#Bakugo Katsuki x reader

[plushieni]

katsuki bakugo’s love language is definitely acts of service. he’s not the best at expressing his feelings — usually blurting out the wrong thing or saying the complete opposite of how he actually feels. so instead, he puts his heart into the things he does for you, rather than what he says.

it’s usually the little things. like doing your laundry before you even notice the pile building up. packing your lunch when you’re running late (which is often), scribbling a snarky note on the lid like, “eat all of it. don’t be stupid.” massaging your sore spots after a long day of training, grumbling under his breath about how you “need to take care of yourself.”

somehow, he remembers everything you say, even if you only mentioned it once. he was like your own personal to-do list in human form.

the trash needed to be taken out? it was gone before you could even stand up. cleaning your room? done quietly while you were in the shower. needed to study for an exam? he had your notes ready and made you sit with him, just so he could make sure your focused. your favorite lip gloss went missing? there were three new ones waiting on your desk, the exact shade, like it was no big deal.

but he never brings any of it up himself. so when you catch on and finally realize how much he does for you without ever asking for credit, you throw your arms around him in a hug full of thank yous and messy kisses.

he rolls his eyes and grumbles, “yea, s’whatever.”

however, you see the way his ears turn red and how he tries holding back his grin. and although he’d never say it out loud, you knew. he loved you more than anything. and this was his quiet, steady way of showing, and saying it, every day.

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[cashmoneyyysstuff]

share my world

synopsis : your boyfriend has a weird little habit of squeezing your fingers. and, naturally, he won't tell you why.

an. i make a stupid "you cant just say perchance" joke here bc i think its very funny. it's corny, so beware!

"so, are we ever gonna talk about this ?"

if katsuki is startled by the fact that you're awake, he barely let's it show besides the way his eyes widen just slightly in the darkness of the room, you're eyes have adjusted enough thanks to the light of the moon peeking through the curtains.

"gonna talk about what ?" he asks sluggishly, eyes drifting downward towards your hands again. or more specifically your fingers.

"talk about why you keep squeezing my fingers when you think i don't notice ?" you explain. katsuki takes about ten seconds to respond. his eyes dart to you when you finish talking. when he looks away again he squints and squeezes your finger with his thumb and pointer almost by reflex.

"s'not like i'm trynna be sneaky.."

you realise he's trying to weasel his way out of your question with a vague answer, so you insist. "and it's always my ring finger too, is it like crooked or something ?" you joke. that rewards you with a huff of laughter from your boyfriend, who squeezes your ring finger tight.

"yeah, m'trynna—set your shit straight." he groans, pretending to struggle as you whine in discomfort. trying to wiggle your finger out of his grip.

when he grants you some mercy and loosens up (still not letting go) he speaks again "if it bothers you so bad why didn't ya say nothin' ?"

"doesn't bother me, perchance.. just wanna know what the big deal is." you reassure, shrugging deeper into his sheets.

he raises an eyebrow holding back a smile "ya can't just say perchance, moron." you stick your tongue out at him as you laugh "that's the joke, asswipe. now quit dodging the question !" you snark, he squeezes your nose in retaliation.

he grunts, looking around the room for anything to save him from talking. he groans when he doesn't find anything.

"i just—it's—i just—do it cuz' i wanna, that a problem ?" he stutters defensively. you roll your eyes, squeezing his nose back, chuckling when he dashes away and glares like you'd smacked him.

"of course not, suki."

"good. quit interrogating me then."

you roll your eyes with a sigh, knowing this is the most you'll get out of your cryptic boyfriend. "that's gonna make me even more curious, y'know ?"

"tough luck. guess y'r just gonna have to live with that. 'night." he settles, and the bastard actually closes his eyes, pulling you closer like his personal plushie. you push at his shoulder "dick." you mutter, he chuckles quietly.

and yeah, you guess you are gonna have to live with that, until you forget about it that is. only for you to remember again and ask him this exact question again and though you're being patient for now, katsuki knows that sooner or later you'll get restless. always so damn impatient, he thinks to himself.

well, not like he could say much, but he'll keep that thought to himself.

and he's being pretty patient right now, he thinks. squeezing your ring finger tight when he realises your breathing has slowed and you'd fallen asleep. he rubs at the spot where he hopes, he prays, you'll allow him to put a ring on soon.

you were just going to have to live with this for a little bit longer in the meantime.

[becertainlust]

Bakugo katsuki refusing to fuck his incredibky horny pregnant wife because he's afraid the strain would hurt her, so he eats her out and fingers her like it's all he's ever known instead?

UNDONE | Bakugo Katsuki

Pairing: Husband! Bakugo x Pregnant ! Reader

Content: Smut.

It starts with a dream.

No—several dreams.

Every night this week, you’ve woken up throbbing, flushed, and wet beneath the sheets, aching for something your husband refuses to give you. Not out of cruelty—but out of caution. He’s been cautious ever since your bump started to show. Ever since his eyes landed on your swollen belly and something primal, protective, and deeply stubborn took over.

You don’t blame him. Not entirely.

But it doesn’t stop your body from burning for him.

You can’t help it—the dreams, the fantasies, the slow grinding of your thighs against the pillow after he leaves the bed in the morning. It’s gotten to the point where just hearing his voice, raspy and low from sleep, has you clenching around nothing. Even now, as you step into the steamy bathroom and peel off your shirt, your nipples pebble from the memory of his mouth. From imagining what it would feel like if he just stopped holding back.

You let out a soft, frustrated sigh.

Your body has never felt more sensitive. Or more neglected.

“Hey,” Katsuki’s voice rumbles from the hallway, breaking your haze. “You need help in there?”

You freeze with your hands on your shorts. Shit.

“No,” you call out quickly, maybe a little too sharply. “I’m fine.”

There’s a pause. You can hear it—the way he hesitates like he knows something’s off. But you step into the shower anyway, shutting the glass door behind you before he can poke his head in.

You don’t want him to see the frustration painted across your face. Or the way your thighs are rubbing together again. Or how your eyes sting a little because you just want your husband to touch you—not like you're fragile, not like you're breakable, but like you're still his.

You rest your head against the tile, hot water cascading down your back, and sigh through your nose.

He’d turned you down again last night. Gentle about it, sure. Pulling you close in bed, holding you like glass, but still shaking his head with that stubborn tone you’ve come to hate.

“Not right now, baby. Not like this.”

You hadn’t said anything back. Just turn over and let him spoon you, hiding the tears of frustration behind slow breathing and a tight throat.

Baths on your own have been lonely. Everyday you would waddle in and waddle out, you’ve made up your mind to just deal with it. Get dressed, keep quiet, stop pushing. You wrap the towel around your chest and start to waddle back into the bedroom—only to find Katsuki standing there, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

His eyes sweep over you. Slowly. Too slowly.

“Thought you said you were fine.”

“I was,” you mumble, tightening the towel more securely around you. “Didn’t need help.”

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. He just studies you like a puzzle, eyes lingering on your flushed cheeks, the way you won’t quite meet his gaze.

“You’re pissed,” he mutters finally.

You shrug, heading toward your dresser. “I’m not. Just tired.”

“The hell you’re not,” he snaps gently, following behind you. “You’ve been actin’ weird all damn week. You barely looked at me this morning.”

"Katsuki!" wow you shouted, clutching your wardrobe doors closing your eyes before taking in a breath. “Maybe I’m just trying not to get turned down again,” you mutter under your breath.

Silence.

When you glance over your shoulder, he’s still standing there—still watching, but now his expression has shifted. His jaw is tight. Not from anger. From realization.

You turn away again, trying to ignore the heat in your face. “Forget it.”

But Katsuki doesn’t let it slide. Not when it comes to you.

In two strides, he’s behind you, hand wrapping gently around your wrist to stop you from walking away again. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, voice low, dangerous in the way it always gets before he does something intense.

You swallow, but say nothing.

“Fuckin' Look at me.” he begs

You do.

His gaze is fire. And something else—guilt. Regret. Lust, buried under layers of self-control.

“I turned you down to protect you. Not ‘cause I don’t want you,” he growls. “You’ve been on my mind every damn second. The way you moan in your sleep. The way you squeeze your thighs together when you think I’m not looking’. You don’t think I notice?”

You feel your breath catch.

“Katsuki…”

He steps closer. His hands cradle your hips. Warm, large, careful. “I miss you,” he murmurs. “Miss the way you taste. The way you fuckin’ sound when you come on my tongue.”

You shudder.

“But I’m not about to risk your body—or our kid—by losing control”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

His lips are warm, and soft, and it’s the most maddening thing about him—how someone with so much strength, so much power in his hands and voice and body, can still touch you like you’re made of glass. Like he’d worship you with a whisper if it meant keeping you safe.

“But I can still take care of you,” he breathes against your skin. “Still make you feel good.”

You’re already trembling, nails digging into the edge of your towel. His words sink into you like warm honey, thick and sweet and so close to what you need—but not quite there.

“Katsuki…” Your voice is soft, shaky. “It’s not enough.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your face. “What isn’t?”

“This—these soft kisses, the way you’re tiptoeing around me like I’ll break.” You suck in a breath, thighs pressing together again. “I want your mouth. I need it. Please…”

You don’t even realize you’re begging until his hands flex on your hips, a quiet groan escaping his throat.

“Say it,” he rasps. “I need to hear it, baby. Say what you want.”

Your cheeks burn, and your lip trembles, but your pride is gone.  Melted away by weeks of wet dreams, aching thighs, and empty, aching nights. You rested your hand on his taunt arms, they looked strong enough to press into a mating press allowing a view to watch his cock sink into you. But that's asking for too much.

“Please, Katsuki,” you whisper. “Eat me out.”

His eyes darken like a switch flipped. The guilt, the hesitation—it all crumbles beneath the weight of your words.

“Yeah?” he growls, voice thick with want. “You want my fuckin’ tongue, baby? Want me to lick this sweet pussy until you forget your own name?”

You nod helplessly, towel falling loose as he backs you toward the bed. His hands cradle your hips, your belly, guiding you like he owns you. And when you hit the mattress, he doesn’t hesitate.

He sinks to his knees.

“Lay back,” he murmurs, voice reverent now. “Lemme show you just how much I fuckin’ want you.”

And you do. Because you’re already trembling—already soaked—because finally, finally, your husband is about to put that filthy mouth to work.

Katsuki kisses down your belly with a reverence that nearly undoes you. His hands are gentle as they guide you back against the pillows, but his eyes—his eyes are hungry. Locked between your thighs, like he’s starved for this, for you.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters, voice gravel rough. “Swear to god, baby, you’re drivin’ me insane.”

Your breath hitches when his hands part your thighs. He eases you open carefully, reverently, and his eyes drop to your glistening core.

“Shit,” he breathes, jaw flexing. “You’re already so wet.”

You whimper when his fingers glide over your folds, feather-light and teasing.

“You’ve been this needy for me, huh?” he growls, dragging the tip of one finger along your slit. “Wakin’ up drippin’ and thinkin’ about my mouth?”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice cracking. “Katsuki, please—please don’t tease—”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes flicking up to yours with a wicked glint. “Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”

Then he lowers his head and licks a long, deliberate stripe up your soaked core.

Your hips jerk.

A sharp gasp tears from your lips as his tongue flattens and presses in deeper, tasting, exploring. His hands anchor your thighs down as he groans into your pussy, like you’re the first drop of water in a desert.

“Oh my—Katsuki—fuck—”

He hums against your clit, the vibration shooting straight through you. He’s relentless—thorough. Every swirl of his tongue, every slow drag over your sensitive bundle of nerves, is practiced.He eats you like he’s memorizing you all over again.Like this is a devotion, not an act.

Like you’re his altar.

And then—then—he eases a thick finger into your soaked heat, slow and gentle, curling up just right.

Your head falls back. Your mouth opens in a silent cry.

“Mmm, kats–” You’re nearly sobbing now. “You make me, feel so good—feels so fucking good—”

“Yeah?” he growls, slipping in a second finger. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come on my fuckin’ tongue like a good girl?”

You nod frantically, hands flying to his hair, gripping tight as he sucks your clit, tongue flicking in tight little circles. His fingers curl perfectly, stroking that spot inside you that makes your toes curl, and your thighs start to shake.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against you. “Good girl” 

You come with a sharp cry, arching into his mouth, walls pulsing around his fingers as he works you through every second of it. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up—keeps licking and sucking like he needs to drink down every wave of your pleasure.

Only when your legs are twitching and you’re whimpering for mercy does he finally ease back, lips and chin glistening.

You’re panting, flushed, wrecked.

He crawls up your body and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your lips—letting you taste yourself on his tongue. Hands gently cupping your face. He pulls back slowly, his body leaving a trail of warmth across yours as you tremble beneath him. The taste of your kiss lingers on his lips, deep and hot, as he watches you with a look of self control thrumming in his mind.

Don't be stupid katsuki.

 His breath comes in soft, measured gasps, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin reflecting the dim light.

You’re left breathless, a wild mix of exhaustion and yearning swirling inside you. His hands, once fierce, now glide gently over your skin, tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts the intensity of what just happened.

Leaning down, he presses his forehead to yours, his voice low and soothing. “Still with me?” His breath brushes your lips, a gentle contrast to the heated clash moments ago.

You blink up at him, feeling both undone and whole in his presence. Your body still thrums with the aftershocks of what he’s done to you, but there’s something comforting, almost protective, in the way he holds you now.

You’re shaking, body spent, but your hips are still lifting off the sheets—needy, desperate, slick and aching. The orgasm’s barely faded, and yet the hunger’s worse now. Throbbing between your legs like an ache in your soul.

“Mmm, more” you whisper, voice broken, strung out on the edge of something more. “Please…”

He’s hovering above you, lips swollen and glistening, jaw slick with your release. His eyes burn molten hot, raking down your body, zeroing in on the way your soaked pussy clenches around nothing.

And he smirks—cocky and condescending, like he knows just how ruined you are. Just how fucking needy you’ve become under his tongue.

“Still twitchin’ for me?” he murmurs, thumb sliding through your mess with a slow, deliberate press. “Didn’t I just make you come”

Your hips jerk against his hand.

He tsks, sliding that same thumb up to your clit—barely brushing it, but it’s enough to make you try to grind against his hand.

“Greedy little thing,” he growls. “Could come a dozen times and you’d still be beggin’ me for more, huh?”

You nod—wild, breathless, clutching at his wrist.

“Please,” you whimper, voice catching. “Please eat me again—I need your mouth—please, Katsuki, I need it—need you—please make me come again—”

His jaw tightens, and something dark flickers in his eyes.

“You really are a filthy fuckin’ slut for it,” he growls, grabbing your thighs and forcing them wide open. “Look at this mess. Soaked and twitching’, just begging’ for my mouth again.”

You can’t answer—not when he’s spreading you wide, dragging your hips to the edge of the bed, not when his breath ghosts over your drenched cunt and you feel how hard he’s breathing. Like he’s barely holding back.

And then—

He dives in.

No teasing. No warmup.

Just tongue and heat and raw hunger—licking into you with a groan that vibrates through your whole body. He’s ravenous now, devouring you like a man lost in the desert. His mouth locks on your clit, lips sucking hard enough to make your vision blur, then soft again, tongue swirling, flicking, dragging through your folds.

Your thighs try to close around his head, but he grips them down hard, keeping you open, helpless.

“Take it,” he growls into your cunt, voice rough, soaked in filth and fire. “You begged for it, now take it.”

You sob.

He flattens his tongue, licking you in slow, deep strokes, and your back arches off the bed—hips grinding against his face as your body loses control again. He slips two fingers back inside you, crooking them right against your sweet spot, and you scream—hands tangled in his hair, dragging him deeper.

You’re not moaning anymore.

You’re wailing—loud, unashamed, wrecked.

“That’s it,” he growls, voice muffled against your soaked folds. “Sound so fucking beautiful”

And then he sucks—hard—tongue curling just right, fingers stroking just right—

You shatter.

Body jerking, crying out as your orgasm rips through you—messy, raw, soaking his fingers, his face, the sheets. Your vision goes white. Your whole body seizes and melts, like he’s pulled the soul right out of you with his mouth.

But even as you twitch, he’s still licking.

Still cleaning you up.

Still moaning like you taste better than anything in the world.

When he finally lifts his head, he’s got that wild look in his eyes again—hair messy, face soaked, lips red and glistening. His smirk is pure filth.

[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.

[rosy-hollow]

On the outside, your boyfriend Katsuki might’ve seemed like he hated trying new things—and that might’ve been true, if it weren’t for you.

Especially today, considering it was your culture's New Year .

Back home, it had always been a big celebration. Your family would invite too many friends over than you could fit in your house, a small gathering turning full blown party. Women gathered in corners to gossip, men sprawled across sofas with plates piled high, and children racing through the halls with squeals and laughter.

Now, it was just you.

To be fair, that part of your culture wasn’t the center of your life anymore. Not since you moved to Japan. For the last few years, you could at least visit home. But this year, with your schedule packed and your workload overwhelming, traveling wasn’t even a remote possibility.

And so you sat alone on your couch, homesick in a way that crept up slow and heavy—grief for a moment that was still happening, just without you.

Today was supposed to be full of celebration. But instead, you were alone.

That is, until three sharp knocks pulled you out of your haze.

Dragging yourself to the door, you opened it—and blinked in surprise.

Katsuki?

Your boyfriend stood there, looking his usual amount of annoyed, but there was something softer in his eyes. He held out a large food container, his ears tinged red as he looked anywhere but at you.

“Happy New Year… or whatever, idiot,” he muttered. “Figured you’d be cryin’ on your ass eventually, so I made you somethin’.”

He brushed past you into your apartment like it wasn’t the most intimate thing anyone’s done for you in a long while.

You opened the lid. The smell hit first—familiar, spicy, home. It took you a second to even recognize the dish, one you hadn’t tasted since last year’s visit. And even longer to realize you were crying.

Katsuki didn’t say anything. He just stepped close and wiped your tears with both hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks before resting there, warm and steady.

“Oi. None of that shit,” he grumbled, soft and gruff. “I came here to celebrate with you, not make you cry.”

You laughed—just a little. A short breath of sound. But your chest felt lighter already.

You set the container down and leaned up to kiss him, a gentle press of gratitude and affection. He kissed you back like it was instinct, wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you in close, his hands rubbing soft, grounding circles into your hips.

When you pulled back, his expression had softened completely. That usual scowl had melted into something tender.

“Thank you, Katsuki. Really, I mean it, I—” But he silenced you with a another searing kiss.

“No need to thank me,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Figured I’d learn how t’make your food anyways… good opportunity.”

You laughed again, a little louder this time, heart swelling.

The rest of the night was spent curled together on the couch, sharing the food he brought, watching one of your favorite movies from back home—this time with Japanese subtitles.

For the first time in years, your apartment didn’t feel empty. It felt like home.

The smell of familiar spices filled the air. You danced with Katsuki in your living room to songs only you knew, his grumbles drowned out by your laughter.

It wasn’t a big party. There were no screaming kids, no gossipy relatives asking when you were getting married, no loud countdowns.

But you weren’t alone this time.

And that made all the difference.

A/N: in honor of tamil new year today!! happy new year to those who celebrate hehe

[dollyfetti]

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.

[luvvixu]

lipstick experiment / k. bakugo

trying new shades of lipsticks on your boyfriend! (spoiler: he loves it so much)

last week, you received a package from a known lipstick brand that you once saved from their company's headquarters against the villains. so as their thank you gift to you, they sent you a box containing about fifteen different shades of lipsticks.

and right now, the lipsticks were scattered across your vanity as you gleefully unpacked your new treasures. meanwhile. katsuki bakugo sat on the bed behind you, arms crossed, pretending not to care—but his eyes kept flicking toward you in the mirror.

an idea popped in your head as you turned at him with a grin. “katsuki…”

he glanced up with suspicion. “what now?”

since you already prepared your lips with your moisturizer, you popped open a rosy pink lipstick and carefully applied it on your lips. “since they sent me so many shades and i really want to test them all out…i was hoping if i could test these out…on you.”

his brows furrowed. “the hell does that mean?”

instead of answering, you lay all of the lipsticks on the bed as you marched over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him with a smile that was wayyyy too sweet to be innocent.

then—mwah—you kissed his cheek, leaving a perfect pink print.

“what the hell—” he started, but froze as you pulled back to admire your work.

you beamed as you wiped your lips. “hmm…too pinkish for me. let's try another shade.”

“don’t you da—”

pop. new lipstick. a bold red this time.

“katsuki,” you said sweetly, cupping his face, “look at me, baby.”

he tried to look anywhere but you, but you gently turned his face back. now, his half-lidded eyes are now looking at you quietly. then, you smiled at him and kissed his nose.

a red mark. right on the tip.

his eyes twitched.

“you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his hands going on your waist to support you as you're literally straddling his lap.

you giggled softly, already reaching for another shade. “yes. but you’re letting me do it, so you’re enjoying it too.”

“tch.”

still, he didn’t stop you.

not when you kissed his forehead in coral. not when you pressed three peony-pink kisses across his jaw. not even when you left a nude kiss mark on his neck.

by the end of it, his entire face was covered in different lip prints—each one messier than the last, because you were laughing so hard and he was definitely holding back a smile.

“you look adorable, kat.” you teased, wiping a tear from your eye.

“shut up,” he muttered, eyes flicking to your lips.

as you were still sitting in his lap again, lipstick in one hand, amusement in your smile, and katsuki…well, he looked like he was trying to stay annoyed. keyword: trying.

you kissed his cheek for the fifth time, the soft press of your lips leaving another mark—this one a warm rose shade that looked kind of perfect against his skin. you leaned back to admire it, grinning.

he didn’t say a word. he didn’t flinch. he didn’t pull away.

you caught it then—a flicker. the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was fighting off a smile and losing.

your heart fluttered.

“katsuki…” you whispered teasingly, “you sure you're not enjoying this?”

he scoffed. “you’re makin’ a mess.”

but his hands were still on your waist—gentle, possessive, like he didn’t want you to move. his red eyes darted to your lips every time you reached for a new shade, and when you kissed the tip of his nose?

that’s when you saw it.

the softness in his face.

his whole expression cracked for just a second—no scowl, no sarcasm. just him. completely vulnerable, eyes warm, like he forgot the rest of the world existed and could only see you.

your breath caught.

you weren’t even sure if he knew how he was looking at you. like every kiss was a promise. like he was trying to memorize the shape of your smile. like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

and still—he let you keep kissing him.

cheeks, jaw, forehead, nose, lips

you were leaving prints everywhere, and he didn’t stop you once.

when you kissed his jaw again, he muttered under his breath, “you’re such a damn menace…”

but his voice was rough. soft around the edges. like maybe he didn’t want you to stop.

you pulled back and whispered, “you look even more pretty with my kisses.”

he didn’t answer.

but his hands held you tighter.

and that look in his eyes? yeah. that was all the answer you needed.

fast forward, you are now finished testing out all of the shades and his face was literally colorful and full of your kiss marks. surprisingly, katsuki stayed quiet as he just kept on looking at you and his eyes would close whenever you land a kiss on his face.

you reached for a makeup wipe, giggling softly as you hovered near his cheek. “okay, let me clean you up before the color stains your skin.”

but before you could touch him, katsuki grabbed your wrist—gently, but firmly.

“don’t.”

you blinked. “huh?”

he looked away, ears tinged red. “leave it. just for a while.” he mumbled softly.

you stared at him in disbelief. “you wanna walk around looking like you got attacked by a lipstick-loving ghost?”

he gave you a half-hearted glare. “i like it, alright? it’s…proof.”

“proof of what?”

he tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “that you’re mine. and that i let you get away with this kinda shit.”

your heart skipped, and suddenly the urge to tease him vanished into something softer, warmer.

“…you’re such a sap when you try to hide it,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his.

he grumbled under his breath but didn’t deny it.

you pulled back just a little—just enough to grab your phone from the nightstand. bakugo immediately narrowed his eyes but didn't question you.

you opened the camera and set it on selfie mode as you fit your faces on the screen. you hugged him close, making your cheeks smashed to each other.

“look at the camera, kat.” you said as you smiled, then clicked the button. katsuki just looked at the camera but didn't smile. he saw his face all covered with your kisses, and if he would be honest, that made him feel oddly giddy in his chest.

“okay, one more.” this time, you placed a kiss on his cheek and snapped the picture.

you took more photos and when you're finally done, you set your phone down and formally looked at your boyfriend. you cupped his cheek as your thumb grazed over his lower lip.

“thanks for letting me test these shades.”

“even though i looked like a damn lipstick experiment, have you finally picked out your shade yet?”

you nodded and showed him your top three lipstick shades. “these suit me better.”

“how about you? what do you think is the best shade for me?”

“anything as long as it's your lips.” he said.

you couldn't help but to crackle a laugh. “is that a flirting attempt or what?”

he glared at you but there's no hostility in those eyes. “shut up.” he mumbled as you continued to laugh.

his arms wrapped around you tighter.

and for once, bakugo katsuki didn’t feel like he had to be explosive or loud or strong to be loved.

he just had to be here—with you.

lipstick stains and all, he's glad to do this lipstick experiment with you.

masterlist

©luvvixu2025

a/n: AHHH I LIED GUYS, THIS HAS TO BE MY MOST FAVORITE BAKUGO KATSUKI FF I HAD WRITTEN CUZ HUHUHU CAN U GUYS IMAGINE HOW GIGGLY I AM WHILE WRITING THIS???

no mind over matter update today, but here's your daily dose of katsuki once again hahah i think i have serious hyperfixation about writing this dude...

[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?!”

[megumismyhusband]

meeting katsuki’s parents was… an experience.

you had prepared yourself for a lot—maybe his mom would be strict, maybe his dad would be intimidating, maybe they’d question your intentions. what you didn’t expect was for mitsuki bakugo to take one look at you, blink, then turn to her son with the most incredulous expression you’d ever seen.

“you’re messing with me.”

katsuki clicked his tongue. “what the hell are you talking about?”

she gestured at you. “this is your girlfriend?”

you smiled nervously and gave a little wave. “um, hi?”

she looked back at katsuki. “be serious.”

katsuki groaned, running a hand down his face. “yes, old hag, this is my girlfriend. what, you think i’m lying?”

mitsuki stared at you again, then back at katsuki, then back at you. “sweetheart,” she said, addressing you this time, “blink twice if you need help.”

masaru sighed from the kitchen table. “mitsuki…”

“no, seriously! you’re so cute, so polite—what do you even see in this angry little goblin?” she continued, gesturing wildly at her son.

you giggled. “he’s not that bad.”

katsuki scoffed. “damn right i’m not.”

mitsuki ignored him. “so, what? you just…��like him? like, willingly?”

you nodded. “mhm! he’s actually really sweet when you get to know him.”

mitsuki looked so unconvinced. “are we talking about the same kid? blond, loud, temper worse than mine?”

masaru chuckled. “it does seem surprising, dear.”

“i don’t get what’s so shocking about this!” katsuki snapped, crossing his arms. “i’m a catch, damn it!”

mitsuki smirked. “you’re something, alright.”

you just squeezed katsuki’s hand, beaming up at him. “i think he’s perfect.”

he huffed, ears tinged pink. “damn right i am.”

mitsuki clapped you on the back—hard enough to almost knock you over. “you’ve got patience, i’ll give you that. welcome to the family, sweetheart. you’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”

[angelltheninth]

Pro-Hero Bakugo Katsuki Coming Home to You

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, cuddles, hero work, welcome home kisses, literal sleeping together

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Some fluff I wrote on my way to work. Enjoy, comment, reblog, all that good stuff.

Something about pro hero!Bakugo coming home even more grumpy and frustrated and you being the only one able to coax a genuine smile, not a cocky grin, on his face as you gently hold him

Because pro hero!Bakugo had a pretty shitty day but having you to come home to and having kiss him to gently ehile you have your hand on the back of his neck and the other in his hair is one of the things he looks forward to the most in his long days

There's always food to heat up and pro hero!Bakugo insists that sit at the table with him even if you ate before him, just seeing your happy face as he eats the meal makes it taste even better

If you ask for details pro hero!Bakugo will brag to you at first, then complain about how annoying everyone else was and got in his way, but then turn it right back to bragging about how people cheered his name afterwards

Cuddles in bed are mandatory in order for pro hero!Bakugo to get a good night sleep and be ready to take on missions the next day, his arms encircle you and hold you close, his hand coulisses, rough and bruised but so gentle with you, his breaths gradually turning into soft snores after he tells you he loves you

Dividers by: @/aquazero

[ashthesalamipiece]

“The Janitor’s Closet Incident”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Chaos, Parental Meltdown, The Fear of God™

---

It started with a phone call.

You picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is U.A. Junior High. We need to speak with Haruki’s parent or guardian. It’s… regarding an incident.”

You immediately sat up straighter. “Is he hurt?”

There was a pause.

“…No. But you might want to sit down anyway.”

---

Bakugo showed up to the school thirty minutes later, stomping through the front office like he was about to arrest someone. You trailed behind, apologizing for the murder energy radiating off your husband.

The principal met you both at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Bakugo. Thank you for coming.”

“Where is he?” Bakugo growled.

The principal adjusted his tie, sweating slightly. “Uh, Haruki is in the guidance office. We… caught him in a compromising position.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.

“Compromising how?”

The principal coughed. “He was found in the janitor’s closet… with a girl.”

Bakugo blinked. Slowly. Like his body had to buffer the information before rage kicked in.

“…I’m sorry. The WHERE?”

“We believe they were… kissing.”

Kissing.

You swore you could hear Bakugo’s soul leave his body.

---

Haruki sat in the guidance office with a cold compress on the back of his neck. Not because he was injured—because the sheer panic had made him sweat so hard the nurse got concerned.

You walked in first. “Sweetheart…”

He looked up like a deer caught in a nuclear explosion.

“M-Mom—I swear—we weren’t doing anything bad!”

“Closet, Haruki?” Bakugo thundered behind you. “The janitor’s closet?! What are you, a soap opera character?!”

Haruki practically jumped out of the chair. “We were just kissing! I didn’t even—I mean—it was only for like ten seconds and—”

“TEN SECONDS?!”

You gently pushed Bakugo back before he combusted. “Let’s take a breath.”

“No!” he snapped. “First he nearly gives me a heart attack with his ‘alone time,’ then I have to give him the world’s most traumatic sex talk, and now he’s reenacting Riverdamndale in the broom closet?! What’s next? A hotel room?! A BABY?!”

Haruki was turning colors.

“I’m not gonna be a dad! I’m a kid! I don’t even know how to do laundry!”

“Damn right you don’t!” Bakugo pointed a finger like it was a loaded weapon. “And if I ever catch wind of you kissing anyone again without supervision, I’m sending you to a monastery.”

“A what?!”

“You’ll have a vow of silence and a celibacy contract by Monday!”

You snorted trying to hold back laughter. “Okay, okay. Enough. We’ll talk about this at home.”

Bakugo leaned down, eye-level with Haruki. “Do you know what I used to do to pervy boys in high school?”

“Traumatize them?”

“Worse. I gave ‘em tips.”

“Wait—what?”

Bakugo smirked. “And then I traumatized ‘em.”

Haruki groaned. “I need a new family.”

---

Later that night…

Bakugo was pacing the kitchen. “A closet, babe. Like, with brooms and mops. That’s not even romantic!”

You sipped your wine. “Be glad it wasn’t the chemistry lab.”

Bakugo paused.

“…We’re homeschooling him.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who traps you into a tight bear hug whenever he comes back from a long mission, shoves his head into your shoulder and takes a big, looong, hard whiff.

"wah—katsuki !! don't, i—don't smell good !" you whine, like that would stop him. you were unfortunately already used to his antics. you'd come to pick him up early at the airport and hadn't bothered putting on any perfume or anything.

and of course, it doesn't stop him. he growls, arms tightening around you threatening to melt into your ribs. he even nudges his nose even harder, moving into your pulse point and his hair tickling your ear.

"shush, stop squirming—don't move. i wanna smell you."

you groan at his lack of shame. "you're way too blunt about this."

"don't know why i'd have anything to be embarrassed about. wanna smell mine. missed you." he says, mumbling the last time just a little bit quieter. but since he's like, pressed to you you had no problem hearing his words and sigh. "y'smell good.." he adds.

you run your fingers through his hair, fondly rolling your eyes at his weak reassurance. "yeah, thanks.." and he has the nerve to grunt in agreement for succeeding in helping you.

[botanicsoul]

The Secretary

agedup! Katsuki Bakugou x (Fem) Reader

MDNI!! (18+)

description: Your entire world flips when you become the explosive hero’s secretary. In the world of high stakes and even higher tension, will you be able to resist his pull, or will you find yourself lost in the heat of it all?” (this bitch is loooooong)

❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❊ ✿ ❀ ❀ ❊ ✿

Pro Hero Dynamite has always been known to overwork at his agency.

Go above and beyond until something is perfect. Every file, every mission plan, every recruit—flawless or you’re wasting his damn time. He doesn’t do breaks. He doesn’t do patience. And he sure as hell doesn’t do mistakes.

People line up to work for him.

Because once you’ve worked under Dynamite, you can work anywhere. You’ve been sharpened by fire. Agencies compete for people who survive even six months at his side.

But just because everyone wants the job doesn’t mean they keep it.

He doesn’t notice most of his staff—doesn’t care to. The only people who get a fraction of his attention are his sidekicks and his PA team. The rest of you? Replaceable. Background.

That’s what you were. Just background.

A newly hired secretary brought in to replace the last one—fired, rumor has it, for leaving a single classified folder out overnight. You were pulled from a random list. No connections, no special qualifications. Just a name picked in a moment of desperation.

And from the beginning, you kept your head down.

Did your job. Stayed quiet. Didn’t try to get in his way. You figured if you didn’t bother him, you’d survive longer than the last girl.

And for a while, it worked.

Until he looked at you.

⸻

It was barely a glance, the first time. You were handing him a folder, and your fingers brushed his. That was it.

But the next day, he asked for you by name. “y/n go to this next meeting for me in 40 minutes and take some notes have it on my desk by 3”

The day after that? He called you into his office to retype a document you knew damn well his PA could’ve handled. He started showing up at your desk more. Asking questions. Staring a little too long when you answered.

No one said anything, but the change was obvious.

Your name started circulating in whispers.

Not in a good way.

Because Dynamite had a reputation. Not just for being a perfectionist or a hard-ass—but for being a flirt. The kind who smiled in interviews and left parties with models on his arm. He was cocky, crude, and didn’t hide the fact that he could get whoever he wanted. He was in the tabloids almost as much as he was on the news. You weren’t his type. Not even close. So whatever attention he was giving you? It had to be temporary.

⸻

Recently one of your male co-workers had been interacting with you a little more than usual lately. He’d stop by your desk for small talk, lingering longer than necessary and dropping subtle hints of flirting—hints you quickly brushed off.

One afternoon, as he stood by your desk chatting about the new coffee shop that had just opened a few blocks from the agency, you heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, aggressive footsteps echoing through the hallway. The air shifted. The floor seemed to still as the explosion hero’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation like a blade.

“Kato,” Dynamite said dryly, voice low but so loud and commanding that it echoed across the entire floor. “Leave my secretary alone and get the hell back to work.”

Everything went quiet.

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers flicking between you and Bakugou, the tension thick in the air. Kato blinked, visibly flinching before muttering something under his breath and practically scrambling away. After that? Silence. No more desk visits. No more awkward compliments. He disappeared.

A few days passed, then a week. You hadn’t realized just how quiet it had been until you were in the break room, talking with Yumi, one of the only people you were actually close with at work. She was leaning against the counter, sipping her tea when you brought it up.

“Hey, Yumi,” you said casually, trying to sound nonchalant as you stirred your drink. “Have you seen Kato around? Last time we talked, he mentioned grabbing coffee at that new place nearby.”

Yumi gave you a look over her cup. “Oh? You don’t know?”

You blinked. “Know what?”

She lowered her voice, leaning in slightly like she was about to share a secret. “After Dynamite yelled at him, Kato got transferred to the other floor—support tech. Apparently he asked for it himself.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Word is he went to HR the same day. Said something about ’not wanting to interfere with higher-up dynamics.’” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “You ask me? I think he got the message loud and clear—and maybe a little scared. Bakugou doesn’t exactly play subtle.”

You felt your cheeks warm, not sure if it was from embarrassment or something else entirely. You looked away, but Yumi smirked.

“He’s totally territorial over you, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was beating just a little faster. “He’s my boss.”

Yumi laughed. “Right. And I’m just here for the free snacks.”

⸻

Things started getting more odd after you grabbed your paycheck, scanning it quickly. Your eyes widen. There’s an extra $200 in there. What the hell?

You head straight to HR, a bit confused. “Hey, I think you guys messed up my pay. There’s, uh, an extra amount in here.”

The HR rep looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “No, we didn’t mess up. You got the raise from the boss yesterday. Didn’t you know?”

You blink. “A raise? From Dynamite?”

They nod. “Yeah. He approved it. It’s all there. So… enjoy the extra cash?”

You stand there for a moment, trying to process it. He didn’t say anything about a raise.

Later, you march into Bakugou’s office. He looks up from his desk, not even bothering to look surprised.

“Aren’t you supposed to be re-organizing those files? I told you I needed that done today y/n” he grumbles, like it’s just another day.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were giving me a raise?” you ask, arms crossed. “I went to HR, and they said it’s from you. You just… threw in a $200 bump like it was nothing?”

He shrugs, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, and?. You’ve been working hard, so you get a bump. Don’t make it a big deal.”

You stare at him, trying to hide the confusion. “But you couldn’t have just said something, I thought it was a true and honest mistake? I didn’t want to get in trouble or anything.”

“Not my problem. It’s in your paycheck. Deal with it,” he grunts, turning his attention back to his papers.

“But I-“ you were quickly cut off by his desk phone ringing.

“y/l/n can’t you just fuckin’ thank me? now get back to work don’t ever question me again” he says before answering the phone.

You stand there, a little speechless. You eventually turn around and leave his office just to sit at your desk still confused as ever.

⸻

work had been piling up, you started staying later than usual at nights. But this night was different.

It was supposed to be simple—just a few files left to organize, highlight, and prep for tomorrow morning. Everyone else on the floor had cleared out hours ago. You liked the quiet. No one breathing down your neck. Just your thoughts and the occasional creak of the building.

Then the elevator dinged.

You didn’t look up until you heard the crash—something hard slamming against the wall near the lift.

And then, there he was.

Him.

Pro Hero Dynamite. In full gear. Hair still wild from battle, jaw tight—and in his arms? A woman.

Not just any woman. A model. One you’d seen in magazines, ads, maybe even a billboard or two. And they weren’t just walking. They were clawing at each other, lips locked, her dress hitched halfway up her thighs. His hands all over her.

He didn’t even glance your way—until he did.

Right as he shoved open his office door.

His eyes locked on you. Smoldering. Unbothered. Maybe even a little amused.

And then he shut the door behind them. Click.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Then you heard it.

The moaning. The banging. The desperate, ugly sounds of sex through that too-thin wall, and you didn’t even hesitate. You gathered your things, barely breathing, and booked it for the elevator before your face could give anything away. You didn’t look back.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The way he stared at you.

Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

⸻

The next morning, you came in earlier than usual—half-hoping, half-praying you wouldn’t have to see him.

Your desk felt different. Like it had absorbed last night’s shame. The pens in your cup were crooked. The light too bright. You reorganized your files twice just to stop your hands from shaking.

You told yourself he wouldn’t bring it up.

He wouldn’t have to.

Because it meant nothing.

To him, it was just another Tuesday night. Another random girl. Another fuck.

And then… you saw him.

Striding across the hallway from his office—jacket slung over his shoulder, hair freshly wet from a shower, and a goddamn coffee in hand like he hadn’t just traumatized you twelve hours ago.

He didn’t even look at you. Not at first.

He passed your desk with that same practiced indifference, talking to a sidekick about an upcoming mission, barely blinking. You exhaled. Maybe it was just another night. Maybe he really didn’t care.

Then, without warning, he stopped mid-step. Turned his head just slightly. Your blood ran cold. But he kept walking. That was it. That tiny little jab, buried so deep it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else—but you knew.

He knew. And now he was watching to see what you’d do with it.

⸻

You didn’t do anything. What could you do?

You buried yourself in your work. Avoided his gaze when he passed your desk. Ignored the little smirk that tugged at his mouth every time your fingers trembled while handing him a report. You told yourself it would fade—that he’d get bored and move on.

But he didn’t. He kept finding reasons to come by. Most times it was work-related. sometimes it wasn’t.

“Where’s the file from yesterday? The one you highlighted.”

“There’s a typo on this one. Wanna tell me where your brain was?”

“You always jump when someone groans, or is that just me?”

“do you always wear skirts that short?”

And the worst part? He never looked guilty. Never embarrassed. Just amused. Like he’d found a new game to play—and you were the only one who didn’t know the rules.

⸻

The next night came.

You were once again the last one in the office, filing mission reports. This time, you double-checked the elevator schedule before staying late. Dynamite had a press conference that evening. He wouldn’t be back until hours later—if at all.

You let your guard down.

Big mistake.

Because when the elevator dinged around 10:43 p.m., and you turned expecting to see a janitor or a delivery guy—

It was him. Alone.

No model this time. Just Dynamite. Loose black tee, sweats slung low, dog tags catching the hall light. He didn’t say a word. Just walked down the hall, slow and deliberate, until he was standing at your desk.

You blinked up at him. “…Can I help you, sir?”

He stared for a moment—eyes hooded, lazy. Then leaned a forearm on your desk. “You’re always here late.” Your throat tightened. “There’s a lot to do.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, gaze dipping briefly to your lips. “That why you stayed last night too?”

“I—I didn’t realize anyone else was—”

“Oh, you realized.” That smug look returned. “You saw everything, didn’t you?” Heat crawled down your spine. He tilted his head slightly. “And what’d you think, secretary? Get a good show?” You stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m—going home. I’m done for the night.”

But as you tried to slip past him, he didn’t move.

Just let his fingers graze the edge of your desk—then yours. Soft. Barely there. Enough to make you stop.

And his voice? Lower this time. Quieter. Laced with something darker. “I fucked her thinking about you all alone out here” he said under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

As you took the bus home after work, his words lingered in your mind. he made you feel like some dirty pervert.

⸻

The following day came, you were a nervous wreck coming to work and praying to whoever was up there to not see him again. But for some reason lady luck was on your side because word got around that Dynamite wouldn’t be in office due for a little to an over ran mission a couple of cities over. You felt the weight of what was like an elephant lift from your shoulders hearing it. The next couple of days you could breathe and get your work done, until the night he came back. You weren’t planning to stay late again but the mission reports were a mess, your inbox was full, and your brain was too fried to say no when your team lead asked for help. Plus you wanted to get it all done so you could go home early for the weekend tomorrow.

Everyone else had left. The sun was long gone, the sky a navy blur behind the tall glass windows. You figured he was still out. Same patrol mission or high-level meeting.

You were so fucking wrong.

The elevator dinged at 11:36pm. You didn’t even look up because you just KNEW. you heard the heavy bootsteps crossing the hall, slow and measured—each one landing like they meant something.

You slowly looked up. There he was.

Hair messy from the wind, shirt clinging to his frame, jaw sharp with tension like he’d been gritting it for hours. He didn’t say anything—just stood there, watching you behind that massive front desk like you were the one interrupting him.

You swallowed. HARD. “…e-evening.”

A low hum left his throat, his gaze staying on you like you were the only thing in the room.

He didn’t walk away. Just shifted his weight slightly, his eyes scanning your desk. You could feel the pressure of his stare, like he was seeing right through you.

You followed his line of sight—realizing too late that your files were fanned out everywhere. Messy. Color-coded. Your pink highlighter cap left open next to your now cold coffee.

Shit.

You scrambled to get up and gather everything, heart thudding harder than you’d like to admit. “I—I’ll get these off before I leave. I just wanted to finish highlighting—”

He didn’t let you finish.

One step closer, without warning.

His body moved with purpose, no hesitation. He didn’t lean in, didn’t raise his voice, but somehow his presence swallowed you whole.

He just tapped twice—once, twice—on the corner of a sticky note beside your hand.

Then, his voice came, low, clipped, a little too calm for your liking.

“Next time you highlight mission details…”

“…don’t use pink.”

he paused for a moment looking at you while his finger was still resting on the sticky note.

“I fucking hate pink.”

You stiffened, trying to shake off the irritation that bubbled up in your chest.

“Well, maybe I’m not here to impress you,” you muttered under your breath, your annoyance pushing you further than you meant to go.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even react at first.

You tried to ignore the sudden heat crawling up your neck. It was just a comment—nothing more.

But then you saw it.

His lips curled into a faint smirk, that signature cocky grin of his. He leaned in just a little more, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he was too relaxed, too calm for the situation.

“Not here to impress me?” His voice was smooth, almost condescending. “Then why the hell are you even still here, huh?”

Your jaw tightened. You were about to fire back, but he wasn’t done.

He took another step forward. This time, there was no space left between you.

His eyes narrowed, gaze dropping from your face to the pink highlighter in your hand. He reached out, slowly, deliberately, taking the cap from the table and flicking it absentmindedly.

His eyes met yours, cold but sharp. He didn’t blink.

“You wanna talk back to me, huh? You wanna act like you don’t care what I think?” He leaned in closer, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. “You’ll get real fucking tired of that attitude real fast.”

You tried to hold your ground, but something in the air was shifting. His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that made you feel small. Vulnerable. He was in your space now—too close. But you couldn’t bring yourself to back away.

“What, you think I’m scared of you?” Your voice was steady, though your heart was pounding in your chest.

His lips curled into a knowing grin, his fingers brushing the back of your hand like it was nothing. But the touch was deliberate. “No, but I think you like it.”

You inhaled sharply, your pulse quickening.

“Like what?” you breathed, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

“Like it when I call you out,” he replied, his voice dripping with something dangerously close to amusement. “Like it when I make you feel something you don’t know how to handle.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he stepped back.

His eyes locked onto yours one last time, with a smooth, and mocking tone. “Not here to impress me, huh? Guess what? You’re not fooling anyone.”

You bristled at the implication, trying to pull away from the tension that was building in the space between you two. But he didn’t let up. Instead, he moved even closer, stepping into your personal space until there was barely an inch of air between you.

“Keep playing it cool,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “But I know exactly what you want.“

His lips were only inches from yours now, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

Your heart pounded, and the words escaped you before you could stop them.

“And what exactly do you think I want?” you breathed.

His grin widened, a wicked, confident curl of his lips, and then, in a voice that was barely a whisper, he answered, “You want me to prove it.”

“fuck you” that’s all it took.

And before you could even process what he meant, he was on you.

His hands found your waist, lifting you onto the desk, making sure there was no space between you. The way he kissed you, with so much force and urgency, made it clear he wasn’t about to stop.

You gasped as he trailed his lips down to your collarbone, his hands already pulling at your shirt, lifting it over your head. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but in the best way. The heat in your body was building rapidly, your skin tingling where his hands brushed.

“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he growled, his lips back on yours with a hunger you couldn’t resist.

You pulled him closer, urging him to take what he wanted, because deep down, you knew you were past the point of no return.

And when his hands moved to the waistband of your pants, you didn’t hesitate, lifting your hips to let him undress you completely.

He didn’t waste any time, his mouth back on your neck, his hands working to free himself from his pants, all while he never broke eye contact with you.

“Say my name,” he demanded, his voice thick with lust, the words slipping from him in a low growl.

You could hardly breathe, let alone think. But somehow, you managed to whisper, “Dynamite.”

He smirked against your neck, his hand coming down on your ass with a harsh smack, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You jolted, a breathless gasp escaping your lips, and he leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

“I said, say MY fucking name,” he repeated, his voice a little sharper this time.

You moaned, your body aching for more as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Katsuki,” you whined, your voice higher, desperate. The sound of his name on your lips, the way it twisted in the air between you two, sent him into a frenzy.

He didn’t give you a moment to recover—he grabbed your thighs and dragged you to the edge of the desk, his mouth crashing into yours again, hungry and unrelenting. You felt the hard press of his cock against your bare core, still hidden behind the fabric of his boxers, and you instinctively rolled your hips, chasing the friction you so desperately needed.

“You’re drivin’ me fuckin’ insane,” he hissed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you—flushed, panting, pupils blown wide. “Actin’ like you didn’t want this. Walkin’ around the office in those tight little skirts… lookin’ at me like that… like you wanted to be fucked.”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly, pulling his boxers down and letting his cock spring free. The sight alone had your breath hitching, and he noticed.

“Yeah?” he muttered, stroking himself slowly as he watched your reaction. “This what you’ve been needin’? Bet your fingers couldn’t even come close to makin’ you feel this full.”

And then he pushed in—slowly, almost teasing, stretching you inch by inch until your back arched and a breathless moan spilled from your lips, your eyes rolling in the back of your skull.

“Fuck—you feel better than I ever imagined,” he gritted, gripping your hips so tight you knew he’d leave marks. “Tight little pussy takin’ me so well.”

He set a brutal pace, snapping his hips against yours, the desk creaking beneath you both his as your body rocked with each thrust. You could barely form words—just whimpers and his name on loop like a prayer.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get filthier, he leaned in, his voice rasping directly into your ear.

“You know how many girls I’ve fucked the last two weeks?”

Each word was punctuated by a hard, punishing thrust.

“Every. Single. ONE of them—I thought about you.”

You gasped, your nails clawing at his back as your orgasm built dangerously fast.“Thought bout how beautiful you’d look bent over my fuckin’ desk takin’ my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back, the filthy words and his relentless rhythm dragging you closer to the edge. Your whole body trembled under him, your mind trying to deny it, trying to keep up, but your body had already surrendered. It needed him. All of him.

“And how amazing your tits would look bouncin’ in my face as you ride me.” he leaned down to your chest and sucked on your tit as he fondled the other with his free hand.

You gasped as his words hit you like a wave, the sharpness of his growl sending a tremor through your body. Every word he spoke, every thrust, made it harder to remember what it was you were supposed to resist.

His pace quickened, and you were helpless under him. Each snap of his hips felt like a jolt of electricity, shooting through your veins, making you gasp and moan for him. The desk beneath you scraped against the floor as he pushed you closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on, your fingers digging into the wood as you clung to whatever semblance of control you had left.

“Say my name again,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Say it and mean it this time.”

“Kats-sukiiiiiaaa,” you breathed, your head thrown back, the sensation of him inside you almost too much to handle. You could feel your walls tightening around him, your body already on the brink of breaking. You were so close—so close you could taste it.

His lips curled into a wicked grin as he saw the desperation in your eyes, his pace never slowing. “That’s it, princess,” he growled, his hand snaking down to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You’re mine now. All mine and not any of these shitty extras around this place”.

You could barely respond, your mind clouded with the pleasure he was giving you. Every inch of your body felt like it was on fire, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core until you were trembling with the effort of holding back.

And then, with one last, forceful thrust, he drove you over the edge. Your body arched against him, your moans a desperate mixture of his name and incoherent sounds. His name tumbled from your lips again, this time louder, as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and weak.

But Bakugou didn’t stop. He wasn’t done with you yet.

He kept going, pushing you through your orgasm with a brutal determination that had you gasping for air. His thrusts grew erratic, faster, harder, as his own release approached. His breath was ragged in your ear, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

With one final growl, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping your hips as he buried himself deep inside you, his release spilling over as he held you against him, each shuddering breath making it clear just how much he needed you—how much he’d been holding back.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms, breathless and spent. He kissed your forehead softly, a rare moment of tenderness after the storm, but the fire in his eyes never fully faded.

“Next time,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, “I’ll be fuckin’ you in my bed not some flimsy office desk.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the muscles in his back as you both tried to catch your breath. This… this was just the beginning.

[socialobligation]

boyfriend of the year (?) | k. bakugo

texts from a relationship built on mutual annoyance, emotional damage, and sour gummies from 7/11

[rosy-hollow]

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: When you're reaped into the annual Hunger Games as the female tribute from District 11, you know you're going to die - the moment you turned 12, you knew the odds were never going to be in your favor. Now, at age 16, you're prepared to meet your end, only to form a unexpected alliance with the most dangerous tribute of all, Bakugou Katsuki from District 2. Trusting him in risky, but honestly, screw it - you're going to die anyways. What's the worst that could happen?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: major character death, blood, gore, heavy cursing, HEAVY angst, mild fluff, violence, fighting, the hunger games deserves its own warning, i repeat, BLOOD AND DEATH!!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ: Ambush

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ: Career Day

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: Ground Breaker

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ: To Leave or Not to Leave

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ: Sparrow

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx: The Feast

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ: The Performance

A/N: guys this has been stewing in my mind for a while now... if you want to join the taglist, let me know!! and may the odds be ever in your favor ;) also just to clarify the art in the banner isn't mine!! i just edited it - found the actual pic on pinterest

taglist: @attackonnat @ldk3347 @onlyisaa @luciapiacat @wonubby @snoopyluvrpao @kiromiix @delshmel @nijoll @babypeapoddd @mirajanestrauss1999 @kianatrg @blankk3 @witch-craft-works @midnight-drives-with-sunarin  @samxbaker

[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