#bakugou katsuki x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

peachversace · 3 days ago

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WHAT YOU NEED; A RUINATION

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 7,149 — read on ao3

tags: shameless smut, rough sex, established relationship, aged-up characters, oral sex, vaginal sex, explicit language & sexual content, praise kink, dirty talk, domestic fluff

summary:

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this.

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Or, in which Bakugou Katsuki is the one ruining you, yet also the one being ruined in the end.

The bedroom is dimly lit, bathed in the soft golden hue of the bedside lamp. The air is warm, and the only sounds filling the space are the steady breaths you take, and the quiet rustle of the sheets as you shift between his thighs. Katsuki sits propped up against the headboard, legs spread comfortably wide as you kneel before him, your gaze fixed on his hard cock resting against his abdomen, flushed and glistening with beads of pre-cum that call to you like a siren.

The moment feels intimate, personal—like a secret shared only between the two of you. His bare chest rises and falls steadily, his crimson eyes half-lidded, softened by the warmth of the moment, by the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. And to you, right now, he is.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His knuckles brush your cheek, grazing your skin so tenderly that it makes your heart stutter. He pushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear as he leans back again, watching you with that intense gaze of his. There’s affection in the way he looks at you, mixed with the unspoken desire burning in his eyes. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words rolling off his tongue like honey, thick and sweet. “So good for me.”

Your breath hitches at his praise, thighs clenching together instinctively as arousal blooms hot and thick between your legs. But it’s not about you right now; it’s about him—about making him feel good, watching the way his lips part and his jaw tightens as you slowly lower yourself, your mouth hovering just above the tip of his cock. You can feel his heat, the slick bead of pre-cum teasing your lips, and it sends a wave of anticipation through you.

You press a soft kiss to the head, tasting the salt of him on your tongue before you part your lips and take him in. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the tip, savoring the way his body reacts—how his thigh muscles twitch, how his breath catches for just a moment. He’s watching you, always watching, and the weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle with excitement.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, his head falling back against the headboard, fingers curling into the sheets. But even as the curse slips past his lips, there’s a gentleness in the way he cups the back of your head, guiding you but never forcing, letting you set your own pace. “Just like that…”

You hum against him, the vibrations of your voice making him hiss through his teeth. His approval fuels you, makes you more eager to please him, and you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you start to bob your head, tongue gliding along the underside of his cock. The weight of him fills your mouth, every inch of him stretching your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as your chin becomes slick with spit.

Your hands come up, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock as you pump what you can’t take in your mouth, and it’s intoxicating—the sound of your wet mouth working him over, the salty taste of him, the low grunts and growls that escape him in response. You’re lost in it, in him, so completely consumed by the way he feels against your tongue, by the way he reacts to every little movement you make.

It’s impossible to ignore how wet you are, how your own body throbs with need as your thighs press together, trying to alleviate the ache building between them. But no matter how turned on you are, you can’t stop. You don’t want to. The taste of him, the feel of him twitching in your mouth as his hips start to move, gently thrusting up into your heat—it’s all too good. Too much. You can’t get enough.

“You love this, huh?” Katsuki breathes, voice thick with lust and amusement as he gazes down at you, his fingers stroking through your hair. “You love sucking me off… fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

The praise sends another rush of arousal through you, making your toes curl as you take him deeper, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gag just slightly but push through it, the mix of discomfort and pleasure driving you to take him even more.

His fingers tighten in your hair as he groans low and deep, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs tensing as he fights to keep his control. But you don’t let up, even as his breath quickens, even as the taste of him becomes stronger—bitter and salty as the first spurts of his release hit your tongue.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His voice cracks, and with a final thrust of his hips, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. The taste of him floods your senses, a little sour, a little bitter, but intoxicating in the way it fills you completely, like you were made to take it.

But you don’t stop.

Even as he trembles beneath you, even as he curses and gasps for breath, you keep going, sucking him through his orgasm, your lips still wrapped tightly around him as you bob your head slowly, milking every last drop from him. His body shudders, a broken moan tearing from his throat as his hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer to him as if he can’t handle the pleasure but doesn’t want you to stop, either.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, his chest heaving as his hand falls from your head to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your spit-slick skin. His voice is softer now, more vulnerable, and it makes your heart swell. “Too good… you’re too fuckin’ good.”

The sound of his praise, the way his thumb strokes your cheek, and the sight of him above you—flushed and breathless, with his chest heaving and his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction—it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. There’s such a softness in the way he looks at you, even now, even after he’s just fallen apart in your mouth. The love in his gaze is undeniable, and it makes you feel warm all over, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

You swallow what’s left of him, your lips parting with a soft pop as you finally pull back, resting your cheek against his thigh as you look up at him, your own body trembling with the aftershocks of arousal that have yet to be addressed. You’re breathless, your face and hands covered in spit, but you don’t care. All that matters is him—the way he’s looking at you, the way his fingers continue to trace patterns on your skin, like he can’t stop touching you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as his hand cradles the back of your head, pulling you up to meet his lips. The kiss is slow, tender, and filled with a kind of love that makes your chest ache. When he pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your lips as he smiles, just a little.

Your breath comes out in soft, shaky pants as you slowly rise, straddling Katsuki’s hips. His cock rests against your soaked folds, teasing you as you hover just above him, already wet and needy from everything that’s come before. The sheets cling to your knees, and your thighs tremble with anticipation, your body practically vibrating with desire.

Katsuki leans back against the headboard, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, his crimson eyes half-lidded but focused entirely on you. His arms rest casually on either side of him, but his fingers twitch like he’s dying to touch you, to feel your skin beneath his calloused palms. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he shifts beneath you.

“Whaddya want, huh?” His voice is rough, teasing, yet there’s an edge of softness beneath it, that familiar tone he only uses when it’s just the two of you, when you’re wrapped up in each other like this. His fingers finally come up to brush your thighs, dragging along your skin slowly, so slow it sends sparks of heat straight to your core. “You gonna tell me what you want, or are you just gonna sit there lookin’ pretty?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest at his words, at the way he watches you like he’s waiting to devour you whole. Your hands press against his chest for balance, his skin warm under your palms as you lean forward slightly, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Wanna ride you,” you whisper, your voice low and breathy, trembling with the weight of your desire. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rises to meet yours with each breath. “Wanna show you how much I love you, Katsuki.”

At your words, he groans softly, his head tilting back slightly as his hands slide up your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. There’s a flicker of something tender in his eyes, something that makes your heart swell even more, and the way he looks at you—like you’re everything he’s ever wanted—only makes you more desperate to feel him inside you, to be closer to him in every way.

“Yeah?” His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his gaze. His hands grip your waist, holding you steady as he watches the way you line yourself up with him, your slick folds gliding against his length, coating him in your arousal. “Then show me. Show me how much you fuckin’ love me.”

With a deep breath, you sink down onto him slowly, your walls stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch so deep and so good that you can’t help but moan, your body trembling as you take him inch by inch. His grip on your hips tightens, his head falling back with a deep groan as you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice low and hoarse as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips as you begin to move, slowly at first, your hips rolling in smooth circles as you ride him, your body desperate to feel every inch of him. The heat between your legs is intense, and the way he fills you so perfectly has you gasping for breath, every movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body.

His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes. You moan softly, your back arching into his touch as he leans forward just enough to take your nipple into his mouth, his lips warm and wet as he sucks gently, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you continue to ride him, your pace quickening as the pleasure builds inside you. His mouth on your breast, his hands on your hips, his cock buried so deep inside you—it’s all too much, and yet, you need more. You need all of him.

He groans against your skin, his breath hot against your chest as he pulls back, his tongue flicking over your nipple one last time before he leans back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips again. “That’s it, princess. Keep goin’. You’re so fuckin’ good.”

His praise sends a shiver of excitement through you, making your movements even more desperate as you ride him faster, your hips grinding down against him with every thrust. The slick sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, the wet heat between your legs driving you wild as you feel your climax building, creeping up on you with each roll of your hips.

His hands wander down to your ass, fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your movements, his eyes dark and full of lust as he watches the way you take him, the way your body moves so perfectly above him.

“You gonna take all this cum, huh?” he growls, his voice strained as his grip on your hips tightens. “You gonna let me fill you up?”

You nod eagerly, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, the pleasure too much to contain as you feel the first tremors of your orgasm building inside you. “Always, Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice shaking with need. “For you, always.”

He groans at your words, his hips bucking up into you as his fingers dig into your skin. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you can’t hold back anymore.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you ride him faster, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “I—I can’t… It’s so—”

“Fuck, you’re gonna come for me, huh?” He grins, his voice breathless and teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in his gaze as he watches you, his hands never leaving your skin. “Do it, baby. Come for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. The pleasure is overwhelming, stealing your breath as you gasp for air, your thighs trembling as your entire body shudders with the force of your release.

Katsuki watches you the whole time, his lips parted in a quiet groan as he grips your hips, holding you steady as you ride out your orgasm. His gaze is soft, full of affection, and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest even as your body quakes with pleasure.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of warmth as his thumb brushes over your trembling thigh. “You’re so good for me.”

Even as the last waves of your orgasm fade, you can’t stop. You’re still so wet, still so needy, and the way he fills you, the way his cock feels buried deep inside you—it’s not enough. You need more. You need all of him.

You start moving again, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ride him, your body aching for another release, another high. His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast again as his other hand presses against the small of your back, guiding your movements with soft, gentle pressure.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans, his voice hoarse as he watches you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You shake your head, your breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as you grind down against him, your body trembling with need. “No,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. “I can’t… I need you, Katsuki.”

He groans softly into your mouth, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a slow, languid dance. The kiss is full of love, full of the warmth and affection you always feel when you’re with him, and it only makes your heart swell even more.

You ride him faster, your body moving on its own now, desperate for more of him, more of the pleasure only he can give you. His hands roam your body, his touch gentle and firm all at once, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his cock pulsing inside you as he nears his own release.

“I’m gonna come,” he growls, his voice strained as his hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he thrusts up into you, his hips meeting yours with every roll. “Fuck, baby… you’re so fuckin’ good…”

You nod, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please,” you whisper, your voice shaky as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. “Please, Katsuki… fill me up…”

With a final thrust, he spills into you, his body trembling as he releases inside you, hot and thick. The sensation sends another wave of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan as you grind down against him, taking everything he has to give you.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled together, breathless and trembling. His hands slide up your back, pulling you against his chest as he holds you close, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice soft and full of love. His breath is warm, his words making your heart swell as you melt into him, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. The world outside the bed fades, leaving just the two of you—bare, tangled, and basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, still catching your breath. His skin is damp, his chest heaving as he slowly calms down from the intensity of it all. But Katsuki’s hands never stop moving—one glides up and down your back, gentle and soothing, while the other traces lazy circles on your hip. Even after everything, he’s still touching you, like he can’t get enough of your skin against his.

"Still got energy to keep goin'?" His voice rumbles against you, teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness there. He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face.

You smile, your heart fluttering at his touch. The warmth in his gaze, the quiet affection that lingers behind his teasing words, it’s everything you’ve come to know and love about him. Katsuki—rough, tough, a little brash, but in moments like these, he’s soft and open, all for you.

"Mmm… maybe," you hum, your voice lazy, though the aftershocks of your pleasure still send pleasant shivers through your body. You shift slightly, wincing at the sensitivity between your legs, and Katsuki's hands immediately tighten around you, as if instinctively trying to protect you.

“Oi, don’t push yourself.” He clicks his tongue, but his voice is soft, and there’s a glint of worry in his eyes, even if he’s trying to mask it with that usual gruffness. “I’m not goin' anywhere, you know.”

You chuckle, leaning up just enough to look him in the eye. “I know, I just…” You bite your lip, your hands tracing the contours of his chest, your fingers gently brushing over his heart. “I love you. And I always want you, Katsuki. It’s like I can’t ever get enough.”

His eyes darken at your confession, and for a moment, the teasing smirk on his face falters, replaced by something deeper. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gazes at you with that soft, yet intense look that always leaves you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough but filled with so much love it makes your chest tighten. “Every part of you. Every damn part.”

There’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s not harsh or overbearing. It’s full of adoration, the way only Katsuki can say it—like he needs you, craves you, but also wants to keep you safe, wants to love you in all the ways he knows how.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his thumb before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without needing words. He kisses you back just as gently, his hand slipping from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, holding you close as your lips move together in perfect sync.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathing heavily, Katsuki gives you that lazy grin that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, his crimson eyes soft but still burning with the intensity that makes you melt.

You trace your fingers over the firm planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch, the way his muscles tense just slightly at the sensation. Your nails scrape lightly over his pecs, then drift lower, tracing the deep ridges of his abdomen, following the defined cut of muscle that leads downward. The whole time, your gaze is locked on his, watching for every little reaction, every subtle shift in his expression. And you see it—the way his breath hitches, the flicker of something dark and hungry in those crimson eyes, the barely-there tremor in his fingers as they twitch at your hips.

He’s trying to stay composed, to keep that usual cocky edge, but you know him too well. You know how to unravel him.

“You’re so sexy,” you breathe, voice laced with unfiltered desire, your words rolling off your tongue with the kind of smooth confidence that’s second nature to you. The smirk that tugs at your lips is slow, teasing, like you’re savoring the power you have over him. You drag your nails lightly down his abdomen, feeling his stomach clench beneath your touch, and let your fingers dance along his v-line. “I want you all the time.”

His reaction is immediate. A deep, low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your palms, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s fighting to hold himself back. His jaw clenches, his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and his pupils blow wide with something raw, something primal. His breath is heavy, uneven, and for a moment, he just stares at you—like you’ve stolen the air from his lungs, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words and the way they punch through whatever restraint he’s barely holding onto.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice rough, thick with something almost reverent, and then he moves.

It’s sudden, fast—before you can blink, he flips you onto your back, pinning you against the mattress with a kind of controlled force that makes your stomach flip. His body is solid, warm, pressing down over you, his thighs caging you in, his hands bracketing your head. He’s hovering just above you, close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips, but not close enough to kiss. Not yet. He’s teasing himself as much as he’s teasing you, savoring the moment, making you wait.

You swallow hard, pulse hammering against your ribs as you stare up at him. His face is shadowed in the dim light, his golden skin glowing under the soft hue of the bedside lamp. His hair is a mess, wild and tousled from your fingers, and his lips are parted, pink and kiss-swollen. But it’s his eyes that make your breath catch—the way they burn into you, intense, filled with something so unfiltered it makes your skin prickle with heat.

“Say that again,” he demands, voice low, almost dangerous, but there’s something underneath it, something deeper. A plea, almost.

You know exactly what he’s asking for, exactly what he wants to hear. And you don’t hesitate.

“I want you all the time,” you say again, slow, deliberate, letting every syllable drip with sincerity, with hunger, with devotion. You lift a hand, cupping his cheek, your thumb grazing over his sharp jawline, and his breath stutters just a little, his lashes fluttering as he leans into your touch—just barely, but you catch it.

Something about the way you say it, about the way you look at him when you say it, makes his whole body tense. His fingers curl into the sheets beside your head, his muscles coiling like a predator about to pounce, like he’s barely holding himself together.

Then he’s kissing you, hard.

It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim. His lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity, stealing your breath, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you. His hands move, one tangling in your hair, gripping tight as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your toes curl. The other hand drags down your side, firm and possessive, following the curve of your waist before gripping your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He kisses like he does everything else—fierce, overwhelming, like he has something to prove. Like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, make sure you never forget the way he feels, the way he tastes, the way he consumes you whole.

And you? You love it. You thrive on it.

You moan into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. His hips press down against yours, his cock heavy and hot against your soaked folds, and the friction sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You arch into him instinctively, chasing more, desperate for him, for everything he’s willing to give you.

“Needy little thing,” he mutters against your lips, his breath warm, teasing, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s just as desperate as you are. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth before pressing inside, against your tongue. His gaze darkens as he watches you suck on it, your lips wrapping around his thumb, your tongue swirling over the pad.

His breathing stutters again, and you can see it—that momentary flicker of vulnerability, of sheer awe, like he can’t believe you’re his, like he doesn’t know what to do with the way you undo him so effortlessly.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s softer, tinged with something tender, something he’d never admit out loud, but you see it. You always see it.

You grin up at him, releasing his thumb with a slow, wet pop, and tilt your head, your voice dripping with playful confidence. “That’d be a hell of a way to go, wouldn’t it?”

He barks out a laugh, sharp and genuine, before cutting it off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more controlled. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve, every dip, committing you to memory. And then, with a low, gravelly whisper against your ear, he promises, “I’m gonna make sure you never wanna go a fuckin’ day without me.”

And with the way his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing, coaxing, setting your skin on fire, you know he means it.

You whimper softly when his fingers find your clit, the pads of his calloused fingertips circling it with a touch that’s hesitant yet firm, like he’s still figuring out just how much pressure will make you shatter. “I wanna be good for you,” you whisper, voice soft, but there’s a weight behind your words—a promise, an invitation. Your hands slide over his broad shoulders, down the ridges of his chest, tracing over every defined muscle, every inch of skin that’s burning hot under your touch. You feel the way he tenses beneath you, the way his breath hitches just slightly, and it sends a shiver of satisfaction down your spine.

Katsuki's fingers twitch against your clit, and you swear you feel him shudder. He swallows thickly, his crimson eyes flickering between your face and where his fingers are pressed against you, as if he’s trying to memorize every little reaction you give him. He’s hesitant—not because he doesn’t want this, but because he always wants to do it right. Because despite his rough edges, despite the sharp tongue, and the explosive temper, Bakugou Katsuki is meticulous when it comes to you. He treats your pleasure like a challenge he refuses to lose.

But there’s something else simmering beneath the surface—something darker, more primal. His need to take something soft, something untouched, and leave his mark all over it. It’s that childhood troublemaker in him, that same part of him that probably kicked over sandcastles just to watch them crumble, the same part of him that grins whenever he makes a mess. Only now, you’re the sandcastle, and he wants to wreck you.

Your breath hitches when he finally presses a little harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His other hand grips your thigh, his touch firm, grounding. “Yeah?” His voice is low, rough, filled with something almost smug but not quite. “You wanna be good for me?”

You nod quickly, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You know he likes the praise and craves it even if he won’t admit it, but he also loves hearing you submit like this, knowing that you’d do anything for him. And you would—you'd let him have all of you, let him ruin you completely if that’s what he wanted.

He exhales through his nose, his smirk deepening. “Course you do,” he mutters, but there’s something almost affectionate in his teasing. His fingers move with more confidence now, rubbing slow and steady over your clit, watching your every reaction with laser focus. “You’re always so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”

You whimper, pressing your thighs together, but his hand on your leg tightens, keeping you spread open. He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t let you escape the slow, devastating pressure of his fingers.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but Katsuki doesn’t give you the chance to breathe. He leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping into something dark and velvety. “You always say the right shit to get me goin’,” he murmurs, his fingers dragging lower, teasing at your entrance before sliding back up. “Always runnin’ that smart fuckin’ mouth, and then you look at me like this—” He presses down harder on your clit, just for a second, making you gasp. “Like you need me.”

You do. You need him so badly it’s almost painful, and he fucking knows it. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, see it in the way his eyes darken as he watches you squirm beneath him.

Katsuki shifts, pulling his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. But before you can protest, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pressing down just enough to make you part your lips for him.

“That desperate, huh?” he taunts, his smirk widening as he watches your lips tremble. “You want it that bad?”

You nod, your breath coming in short, shallow pants, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nah, c’mon, baby, use that mouth. You were talkin’ real sweet just a second ago.”

You swallow hard, trying to focus, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like this—like he’s already won, like you’re already his to break apart and put back together.

“I want you,” you breathe, your voice shaking. “I want you to ruin me, Katsuki.”

His eyes darken, something dangerous flashing through them, and you know you’ve just fed into that part of him, the part that loves to take something soft and make it his.

Katsuki groans, his grip tightening for just a second before he lets go, shoving you back onto the bed. He moves fast, so fast it makes your head spin, settling between your legs, pressing his body against yours. His cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and you can feel how hard he is, how much he wants this, wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he looks down at you, his hands braced on either side of your head. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You smirk, your wit bubbling up even through the haze of arousal. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Katsuki growls, but there’s amusement behind it, something fond beneath the frustration. “Smartass.”

But he doesn’t give you a chance to retort—he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all heat and hunger and raw, unfiltered need. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your waist, squeezing your thighs as if he can’t get enough of touching you.

And then he’s lining himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that don’t give you nearly enough. He watches your face, drinking in every little twitch, every little gasp, his smirk widening as he sees how badly you need him.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough, possessive.

Your fingers dig into his back, your body arching against him. “Ruin me, Katsuki.”

His breath shudders out of him, and then, finally, he thrusts into you, stretching you open inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you. The stretch is just enough to make you gasp, to make your nails rake down his back, but it’s perfect. He’s perfect.

Katsuki groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath ragged. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, his fingers tightening on your hips. “You’re so—” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath, swallowing hard. “Shit, baby.”

You feel him tremble slightly, like he’s holding himself back, trying not to lose control too soon. But you don’t want him to hold back. You want all of him.

“C’mon, Katsuki,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “You can do better than that.”

His eyes snap open, locking onto yours, and for a second, there’s nothing but silence between you. Then, his smirk returns, but this time, it’s sharper, more dangerous.

“You really wanna test me, huh?”

Before you can respond, he grips your hips and slams into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, making you cry out. He sets a brutal pace, his thrusts deep and demanding, every movement claiming you, leaving no room for doubt—no room for anything except the feeling of him, the way he fills you completely, the way his body moves against yours like he was made for this.

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this.

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Your gasp is swallowed by the heat between you, your breath catching in your throat as Katsuki's hands find yours, his fingers threading through yours in a firm, grounding grip. His palms are rough, calloused from years of training, from battle, from holding power in his hands—and now he’s holding you, keeping you steady as he thrusts into you with deep, measured force. His grip tightens, squeezing your fingers just as his hips snap against yours, drawing a sharp, breathless moan from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, damp with sweat, his ragged breaths mingling with yours, the heat of his body searing into you.

The pace he sets is relentless, every roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, your body arching to meet every thrust like you’re trying to take more of him, trying to pull him deeper. His cock stretches you perfectly, every inch dragging against your walls, hitting that devastating spot inside you that has your legs trembling around his waist. He watches you through half-lidded, lust-darkened eyes, his gaze flickering between your parted lips and the way your face twists in pleasure. His expression is one of pure, unfiltered possession—like he owns every moan that leaves your mouth, every shiver, every needy whimper that spills from your lips.

"Fuck," he growls, voice rough and breathless, his grip on your hands tightening as if to anchor himself. "Say my name again."

You barely have the presence of mind to respond, too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you, filling you over and over again, but you manage to whimper, "Katsuki—" your voice breaking on the last syllable as he thrusts particularly deep, your head tilting back against the pillow.

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his lips brushing over your jaw as he presses himself impossibly closer, his body flush against yours, his weight pinning you down in the best possible way. He’s everywhere, surrounding you, his heat, his scent, the intoxicating mix of sweat and something inherently him flooding your senses. You feel drunk on him, utterly consumed, and he knows it. You can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his hips jerk just a little more erratically, like he’s losing himself in you the same way you’re drowning in him.

His hands, still clasped tightly around yours, suddenly push your arms above your head, pinning them to the mattress as he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. "You're mine," he breathes, his voice low and wrecked, sending a shiver down your spine. His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "Say it."

You barely manage a nod, your thighs tightening around his waist, desperate for more, desperate for all of him. "I'm yours," you gasp, and that’s all it takes for him to snap.

Katsuki growls, something primal and desperate in the sound, and his pace turns brutal, his thrusts rough and deep, claiming you in every way possible. His hands are still wrapped around yours, fingers locked together, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s taking you now. It’s raw, all-consuming, his body demanding more, his need for you spilling over in the way he fucks into you like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he never wants you to forget this—forget that you belong to him.

Your moans are nothing but broken cries now, his name the only thing you can manage, gasping it into the air between you like a prayer. His lips crash against yours, messy and desperate, swallowing your sounds, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. He’s close, you can feel it—the way his thrusts are growing erratic, the way his breath stutters against your mouth, the way his hands squeeze yours so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks.

“Fuck—" he grits out, his whole body tensing, his hips slamming against yours in a final, deep thrust. And then he’s gone, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. His groan vibrates against your skin as he buries himself as deep as possible, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave—dragging you under with him. A sharp gasp escapes you as your own pleasure surges, legs trembling around his waist, eyes rolling back as the sensation overtakes you completely. You can feel the way he trembles above you, the way he breathes your name like it’s the only thing grounding him as he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.

He stays there for a moment, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath heavy and ragged, his body pressed tightly to yours as if he never wants to let go. Slowly, his grip on your hands loosens, his fingers uncurling, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laces them together properly this time, softer, more deliberate, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispers, "You're mine."

This time, it’s not a demand—it’s a promise.

"I only want to be yours," you whisper, your voice soft yet unwavering as your fingers uncurl around his and weave into his hair, tugging gently at the damp strands. Katsuki stills above you, his breath catching, and for a moment, everything slows. The heat between you lingers, but the intensity shifts—melting into something deeper, something raw and unguarded.

His grip on your wrists loosens, fingers flexing as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them now that the fire has simmered down. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his eyes are wide, uncertain. Vulnerable. It’s rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual brashness, his walls lowered just enough to let you see the boy underneath—the one who’s never really known how to handle tenderness without wanting to crush it in his hands.

"You’re already mine," he mutters, but there’s no cocky edge to his voice, no smirk tugging at his lips. Instead, he says it like he’s trying to convince himself, like the idea of being wanted this much is still something he doesn’t know how to accept.

You offer him a small smile, brushing your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching against his scalp. He exhales shakily at the sensation, his body relaxing into your touch despite himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles ease, the weight of something unspoken lingering between you both.

"You don’t have to act so tough with me," you murmur, tracing the shell of his ear, your touch featherlight. "I love you, Katsuki. All of you."

His eyes dart away for a second, like he needs to escape the weight of your words, but you don’t let him. You tilt his face back toward you, catching his gaze and holding it, refusing to let him run from this—run from you.

His jaw clenches, but then, with a slow inhale, he lets himself sink against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he lets go.

"You fuckin’ ruin me," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your collarbone. But his hold on you tightens, contradicting his words.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Good," you tease softly, earning a quiet huff from him.

But he doesn’t pull away. He just stays there, breathing you in, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

And for once, Bakugou Katsuki lets himself be loved.

#bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou #[lawyer up!]#my fics #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia

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lonelierthanu · 1 day ago

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on that same note, i can also fully imagine after some sort of hero training thing, you do a good job and you run up to him excited. you raise your hand for a high five and he does so, immediately followed by a slap on the ass. You fake pout, but then laugh at his stupid self satisfied smirk and hug him. He squeezes you so tightly back, head buried in your neck to breathe in your scent. The class watching like, “…wtf??”

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.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 7 hours ago

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y'know how kittens scream bloody murder and alter their voices when they're left alone but immediately pull a 180 when they get attention ? katsuki. it's him it's him and he's so irritating about it.

the moment he feels you've been gone for too long, he starts belting, singing–screeching your name until you show up. he just doesn't seem to notice how hard it makes you shit your pants when he pulls that kind of stunt.

you're sure he can hear the way you stomp like a herd of elephants all the way from the living room, you're ready for a fire, a burglar –anything.

you find your boyfriend calmly munching on some chips scrolling on his phone.

you're convinced you've lost your mind when he blinks back at you calmly, like he expected you to explain yourself.

"katsuki."

"mm ?" his cheeks puff out a little as he chews another handful of chips.

you feel your fingers twitch "what the hell was that ?! why'd you scream ?"

he has the nerve to furrow his brows "didn't scream. you weren't responding when i was callin' you normally, i just spoke louder."

"you didn't speak–you yelled my name out like you were getting bludgeoned." you wheeze out.

katsuki huffs, putting his phone down next to him on the couch. a slight pout forms onto his face "..well why were you gone so long ?"

"i was peeing." you deadpan, eyes wide. "i was in the bathroom, i told you that."

silence. and more silence, then katsuki discards his bowl of chips and reaches for your arm "well ya took too long. c'mere." before pulling you towards him and squeezing his head into your shoulder.

it's even worse when you don't tell him you're leaving. it could be the middle of the night with him having to wake up early the next day. you could've just gone to get a glass of water and moments later he's screeching like a banshee. you're used to it by now and after chugging down your drink with a "coming !" he's already practically wide awake (ignore his eyes drooping and the very loud yawn he let out and quickly tried to shut his mouth when you walked in) arms crossed and sitting up in bed. he'll give you a quick once over and huff, that pout again, and he speaks.

"where'd you go ? don't jus' leave like that. ." you hum, going along with his every complaint of how you 'took too long'. he shoves your head into his chest like you're a plushie and noses at your shoulder. you feel him mutter against your skin before falling asleep again."had me worried 'bout you an' shit. ."

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lightseoul · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER 9 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 7.4k (hoo boy. i did say i would end this with a bang. i wrote and edited this in two days.)

tags. minors dni. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of food, mentions of physical & mental health issues, explicit...themes. y'all see for yourselves what those are

a/n. and here we are. a little over two months since i posted the masterlist in the hopes that it would motivate me to see this series through, and i actually did it!!! i poured my heart and soul into this chapter, specifically, so i hope you enjoy it and find it a great way to wrap up the story. see the end for a message <3

links. masterlist, ao3

You shoot up at the sound of a honk—a blaring sound that you think can only be from one of those humongous passenger buses that circle the city.

Except they never really pass by your neighborhood—your apartment being located in the outer peripheries of Musutafu.

So why, all of a sudden, are you hearing these noises?

Wasn’t it just recently that you shot up awake like this?

Clenching your eyes back closed, you shake your head vigorously. The dull thumping that stretches from your parietal straight to your frontal lobe is unmistakable, such is the dryness of your throat. You look to your left, letting out a sigh of relief when you see a glass of water on the nightstand. You quickly grab it and take a sip, finally eyeing your surroundings as you do so.

The room is dim—the city lights emanating through the window the only source of illumination within the four walls, enough to cast a faint glow on what you’re now sure is Bakugou’s bedroom. You’ve only been here one night, but the plush mattress beneath you feels familiar, and you’re a hundred percent sure that’s your suitcase in the corner right next to his wardrobe. The wardrobe where he retrieved the futon…last night?

You shift to be on all fours, wincing to a halt when your back screams in protest at the motion. You try to rotate your neck next, grateful when all you feel is a slight strain and a sting—like you’ve got some bruising at the front. The rest of your body seems to be working alright—fatigued, yes, but not enough to cause you a new wave of pain with every maneuver.

And so with that thought, you slowly crawl toward the foot of the bed, right until you catch a glimpse of the said futon. It’s somewhat undone—arranged exactly how you think Bakugou left it the morning of the mission. Well, how you two left it. You remember accidentally stepping on it once or twice while trying not to invade Bakugou’s personal space as you simultaneously got ready, making a mental note to fix it before you left.

You guess you never got to. Apparently, neither did Bakugou.

Which only means one thing.

It’s still D-Day.

Only then do the events from earlier today come flooding at you, and you find yourself stumbling out the door, barefoot and maybe still a little too out of it to be rushing like this.

Regardless, you burst out of the room—fully expecting the twins to be there—although you’re not hit with a sobering visual confirmation, nor are you hit with a menacing glare followed by a ripping out of your tracker, which you note has already disappeared from its spot in the middle of your chest.

Instead, what hits you is the heady yet comforting smell of ramen broth.

You glance in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, Bakugou’s standing there—decked out in lounge clothes under an apron with a ladle in one hand—staring at you, surprised.

“Hey,” he finally gets out after a beat of immobility, before facing back toward the stove and turning down the heat. “You’re awake.”

You nod, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. You pad toward the kitchen as quietly as you can, stopping a few feet away from him where he looks so normal, like he didn’t just wrestle a murderer a couple of hours ago.

What the hell is going on?

Bakugou glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in question—and it just dawns on you that you said that last bit out loud—before spinning to fully face you again.

“You had an anxiety attack,” he says as a matter of factly, and you feel yourself flame. “They told me to take you home after they did first aid on the both of us.”

So, he got hurt, too.

You tamp down the shame from your breakdown and note the bandage on his cheek, right where his scar is.

Still, it’s not exactly the two of you who you’re most concerned about right now…

You gulp, willing yourself to hold Bakugou’s gaze. “What about Masaki?” you ask. “D-did he—make it?”

At that, Bakugou sighs, and it’s enough for you to know the answer. Despite yourself, you feel a surge of guilt wash over your body.

“He was rushed to the hospital,” the pro-hero explains, solemn, “But he didn’t make it.”

And when you don’t say anything: “It’s not your fault, Y/N. You didn’t kill him,” he huffs, “I did.”

You shake your head decisively, before tossing him a stern look. “You did what you had to do.”

Bakugou stares at you for a second, an inexplicable expression on his face, although you don’t get to study it further because you look away first. “Did you know he was a consul?” you inquire, suddenly feeling the obligation to change the topic.

Bakugou turns, once again busying himself with the stove. “I heard.”

You pull a stool from underneath the kitchen island and hoist yourself up into it. “Explains why he was never around in the headquarters.”

“Explains why he was never home, either,” he piles on.

You feel your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Apparently, he just went through a divorce and lost custody of his daughters to his ex-wife, who that guy Hiroto described to have a pretty weak quirk. Said the man always had supremacist views, but changed for the worst when the woman filed a case against him.”

Huh.

“Speaking of quirks,” Bakugou continues, stirring the broth, “I’m sure you figured it out, but his was called retaliate. He could absorb attacks, especially explosions, and redirect them with—”

“Double the power, yeah,” you finish for him.

“Quadruple if he’s feeling confident—an ironic clause for a relatively meek guy like him,” Bakugou remarks. “Explains why he still took you with him despite suspecting we were doing something behind his back. He needed your luck and was planning to blackmail you into boosting him.”

That makes you frown. “But they didn’t figure out it was actually manipulation, did they? He mentioned luck to me, too. In the car, before we went into the building.”

“No, they didn’t,” comes Bakugou’s cool response. “Masaki and the rest still thought it was luck, just that you may have been using it beyond their instruction. Plus, at that point, they already had my bombs, so they could easily dispose of me and use my life as leverage to get you to do what they said.”

Bakugou reaches for one of the condiments in the rack, lightly shaking the contents out of the container and into the soup. “Explains why they told me last night to follow suit and get dressed in normal clothes. Didn’t matter that I’d be easily identified in them—I was never gonna get to the Prime Minister’s Office anyway.”

That fucking reminds you. “Where did that bastard even take you?”

At that, Bakugou stiffens. “An industrial-grade refrigerator,” he mutters.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he spews, perhaps a bit miffed. You can tell he’s not enjoying talking about this. “I was bolted in, and Kouki disappeared before I could wrangle him into letting me out.”

You can only gawk at him as he drawls on. “Took me a while to gather enough sweat for one massive blow to break the lock.”

“H-how?” you manage to croak out.

“Push-ups,” he answers curtly, still stirring. “I lost count at around 300.”

He takes your stupefied silence as a sign to continue.

“After that, I figured the old geezer couldn’t have gotten me too far—otherwise, he would’ve depleted his capacity to conduct mass teleportation if things went south for them. I boosted myself up to get an aerial view and find a landmark, and got going when I did.”

“Were you still wearing your tracker?” you can’t help but probe.

“I had to,” Bakugou responds, “If I wanted him to come to me. When he found out I was on the move, he teleported to where I was—probably to teleport me to my death, leverage be damned—but I was faster, and he couldn’t catch up.”

“I blasted him unconscious before he could retreat and bring everyone else with him,” Bakugou says as he takes what looks to be a lid and puts it over the pot, leaving a small gap for the steam to come out. “He’s in custody now. Shitty hair’s talking to him as we speak.”

At the mention of the redhead’s nickname, you straighten up. “How is he? And Sero?” you say so quickly you almost stumble over your words, “Are they okay?”

“Yeah,” comes his prompt retort, and you find your shoulders sagging in relief. “The twins put up a fight, but they eventually had them wrapped in Sero’s tape and chased you to the elevator. But then somebody pulled the fire alarm and they got stuck.”

“It was Masaki,” you swiftly supply. “He did it just as he hauled me out of the elevator.”

Again, you watch as Bakugou visibly tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. At least, for a moment, before he sighs.

“Yeah, well, they couldn’t get out for a while because the system needed manual operation to send the elevator back to ground floor, and nobody was around to do it. They couldn’t smash their way out of there, either. Could’ve caused the entire thing to crash down.”

“Wasn’t there any other hero besides them?”

“No,” Bakugou says almost regrettably as he takes the bowl of uncooked noodles into his hands. “They thought I’d be there just as planned, so they assigned the rest of the pro-heroes involved to the rest of the schools.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “I guess that explains why they went for the twins first instead of Masaki. Maybe they thought you’d be there to handle him?”

“No, they had eyes on you,” he corrects, just as he pours the noodles into the soup. “Shitty hair said they prioritized the two because they seemed stronger than Masaki. His packing that much fucking strength came as a shock to everyone.”

You chuckle dryly. “Even you, right?”

He grunts, unamused. “Even me.”

You let yourself sit in silence as Bakugou continues to tend to what he’s cooking. It goes on like this for a little while, before it hits you belatedly.

“Did anyone else get hurt?” you suddenly ask, “You know, aside from Masaki?”

“None, unless you count property damage,” he quips, and you let out a half-hearted laugh. You can hear him smirking when he adds: “Luckily, Kirishima and the others had enough foresight to evacuate the place entirely.”

“I’m guessing you know how they did it?”

At that, Bakugou nods. “…Although, I can’t say I agree with it.”

You cock your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“They used government surveillance information to send targeted texts to the potential victims—parents on behalf of the students, staff, employees,” he reveals, voice low. “Something about a suspension that they needed to be quiet about for their safety. Except the guards, who had to be there at the entrance.”

“But—”

“That would’ve meant Masaki and the twins would receive the message, too, I know,” he interjects. “Good thing I managed to put their names on that piece of paper. Otherwise, we would’ve been fucked.”

“No shit,” is the only thing you can mumble, head reeling from the revelation just now.

“…We barely made it, huh?” he rejoins, quiet.

“Yeah…” you reply.

A pause.

Then—

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out of the blue, startling Bakugou. You refuse to meet his gaze, though, even as you continue. “For losing it back there.”

At that, Bakugou whips to look at you, and you have no choice but to look up at him. “Hah?”

“I didn’t think I’d use everything up, and it’s been so long since I last depleted my quirk like that,” is the only thing you can get out.

You let your eyes fall to your enjoined hands in front of you. “I couldn’t control myself. I’m…sorry.”

Another pause.

“Tsk.”

Your eyes widen at the unexpected sound, and despite yourself, you find your line of vision going back to Bakugou, who’s now scowling at you.

“The only thing you should be sorry for is that unnecessary as shit apology,” he spits, before turning back to the stove. “Now, come on. Help me with the plates.”

You do just as Bakugou says and assist him.

You end up situating the placemats and cutlery just as he finished up the dish, serving it not even a few minutes later in a luxurious-looking, suspiciously Todoroki-esque bowl that you’re sure costs more than a well-functioning arm.

You try to ignore it as you navigate yourself in his kitchen, although it eventually becomes apparent that a peculiar kind of tension lingers in the air still, but you figure it’s not entirely unfathomable.

It’s only been a few hours, after all.

You repeat this like an incantation in your head—again and again until it somehow sticks—even as you quietly say your thanks and dig in. Not one word is uttered in between spoonfuls of food, the silence reminiscent of yesterday’s dinner—even though yesterday now feels like a whole month ago.

At least, that’s what you were thinking, until a booming voice erupts throughout the room, entirely juxtaposing the earlier stillness. You startle, then ease up when you realize it’s All Might’s, and that it’s merely a ringtone. Bakugou scrambles to fetch his phone from the island, although whatever urgency he had just now goes out the window when he sees the caller ID.

“It’s Asahi,” he grumbles.

You hurriedly swallow your noodles. “Aren’t you gonna answer that?”

Bakugou glares at his phone for another second before shaking his head and turning it off, walking back toward you.

“Isn’t he gonna get mad?” you ask just as he reseats himself.

“We’ve been on duty for over two weeks,” Bakugou snarls, picking back up his chopsticks. “He can kindly go fuck himself.”

That makes you snort, which earns you a smirk, although his face falls almost immediately after.

You swallow the discomfort that shoots to your throat at the sight of it.

You try not to get caught, but you secretly sneak glances for the rest of the meal, and only by the end of it do you notice that his hair’s gone back to its normal, unruly state—probably due to a shower that he took after you got home.

That, and there’s definitely something weighing him down.

You just don’t know what.

You don’t attempt to comment on it as you help him clean up the plates, or even as you start drying the dishes after he washes them beside you. He doesn’t try to start a conversation, either, focus seemingly trained solely on the task in front of him, although you know better than to believe what your eyes are telling you.

It’s that thought that ultimately emboldens you to speak up a few minutes in.

You clear your throat, eyeing him as subtly as you can. “…Something on your mind?”

To your dismay, he doesn’t answer you, only passing a plate without sparing you a single glance.

Well, then.

Despite yourself, you feel yourself deflate at his snubbing.

You had your doubts about coming forward and asking him, although that’s when the memories of the things you had to go through together came in and you thought he’d trust you enough to share—but you guess you’re getting ahead of yourself, because there’s no way he’d—

“You used your quirk on me, didn’t you?

You freeze, all thoughts wiped out from your brain.

You feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare turn to look at him, nor do you open your mouth.

He turns away, nodding. “I knew it.”

Fuck this.

“People don’t normally notice—” you blurt, and he shifts to face you again, “—when I use it on them.”

You scratch at your cheek, feeling weirdly restless. “I think it’s only because you’re perceptive to begin with, and because you know about me and what I can do.”

“Why’d you do it?” is his immediate response, catching you off guard. You splutter, although—to your chagrin—he only raises an eyebrow at you, expression nothing less than expectant.

What the hell are you supposed to say other than the truth, then?

“Fine,” you hiss, pulling your lips into a thin line. “It was because I noticed you were getting frantic.”

At that, Bakugou’s eye twitches. “You calling me sloppy?”

“No!” you exclaim, then backtrack. “I was just—I just did what my instincts told me…”

And really, you did.

That’s all you could’ve done in that situation, for a person with your experience.

And you’re about to expound on that to a skeptical Bakugou when, to your surprise, he nods.

“Good call,” he mutters so silently, but you hear it anyway, and your eyes widen.

You must be gaping at him like he just said you are the greatest person to have ever graced the earth because he immediately looks away, embarrassed, a sudsy bowl still in hand.

“It’s stupid,” he continues, and you barely clock him having resorted to aggressively toeing his house slippers—the pair you bought for him. “I’ve never really lost my cool like that before.”

Now, that you’re not sure of.

Still, you force out a decent reaction.

“R-really?”

You’re instantly granted with a side-eye. “Don’t sound so fucking shocked.”

“It’s not that—” you choke, “It’s just that—”

“I have a short temper, I know. Sue me,” he spews, shutting you up.

“But I never let that get in the way of my work,” Bakugou pushes, suddenly serious. “Never.”

You frown, placing the plate you’ve been holding in the drying rack. “Well, they did fool us by separating us last minute,” you offer just as you look back at him, “I’d be pissed, too, getting betrayed like that.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything in reply, opting to stare at you—borderline scowling—for what feels like a minute. He eventually sighs, and you find yourself mentally sighing at the break in eye contact as he puts down the dish he was in the middle of washing.

But then he turns to you again, face blank, and says the strangest thing.

“Tell me. Are you playing with my emotions right now?”

“What?” you cry, “No! Why would you even—”

You’re cut off when—without warning—Bakugou coaxes the towel from your hand and takes a step close, invading your space.

“Good,” he rumbles, voice low and gruff as he leans even closer. “Just wanted to make sure.”

That’s all the warning he gives you before he grabs your neck and dives in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You instantly shut down at the contact, your body going rigid against his just like when he kissed you out of the blue this morning. But unlike earlier today, you don’t relax, and he must’ve sensed it, because he quickly pulls away, the hand that was just on your nape now resting on your shoulder.

“Shit,” Bakugou curses, a mortified look on his face. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No!” you interject, “I mean, it’s okay. It’s just…”

“Just what?” he breathes out, releasing you from his hold, and you don’t know if you’ve finally gone crazy, but did he just sound…hopeful?

No, he didn’t.

Which is why you muster up the courage to say the next thing.

“You’re just confused,” you finally get out, looking him straight in the eye.

His reply is instant.

“Believe me, I’m fucking not.”

That makes you frown, because why is he giving you such a hard time? You’re giving him an out, for god’s sake. A wake-up call, if you will.

That none of these is real.

And that he’s confusing make-believe with reality.

These very thoughts must be evident on your face because he studies you closely for a bit, a similar frown etched on his features. He then shakes his head, the same way he does when he’s getting impatient.

“You don’t believe me?” he finally says, and you’re about to say no, you do not, when he suddenly takes a step closer, and you find yourself stumbling back.

“What if,” another step forward for him, another one backward for you, “I tell you that I’ve been wanting to kiss the crap out of you, even when no one’s watching?”

Yet another step, and he finally stops. “Especially when no one’s watching.”

You can’t help it—you sputter, and to that, Bakugou only flashes you a devilish smirk. “Nothing?” he taunts, “You’ve got nothing to say?”

“J-just kiss?”

The second you say it, you know you fucked up.

His crimson eyes widen in surprise. “I mean, I want to fuck you, too, but—”

“No!” you cry, and he shuts up, “I mean, not like that. What I meant was, is this thing you’re feeling purely physical? Not that I think I’m all that—” you quickly disclaim, “—but is there something else, or…?”

At that, the motherfucker chuckles, and you’ve got half a mind to bury yourself in the very ground you’re standing on. But then you remember you’re on the top floor of a high-rise building, so that would only mean—

“I want to date the crap out of you, too, dumbass.”

“…Oh.”

A raised eyebrow. “Just ‘oh’?”

You flush. That was too soon of a reference.

Still, you have to respond.

“Oh, as in, oh, great,” you croak, “Because, believe it or not, I feel the same way.”

You can only watch in delight as Bakugou releases a breath you think he didn’t know he was holding, utter relief written all over his body. There’s no controlling the smile that breaches your mouth at the sight of it, earlier’s dreadful anticipation now morphing into a hoard of rabid butterflies. Bakugou sees the change in your countenance and grins.

“Does this mean I get to kiss you now? And that you won’t just stand there like a fucking corpse?”

That earns him a punch to the arm, which he takes in stride, laughing. “Can’t you just do it without teasing me?” you grumble, “You’re such a dickhead.”

“Got it, princess,” is the last (pestering) thing he says before reaching for your neck again and pulling you toward him, wasting no time in bringing your lips to his.

It doesn’t elude you that you’re still somewhat tense, but you eventually manage to will yourself to ease up just as his other hand shoots up to hold your cheek, tilting it so he can deepen the kiss. You can’t help it—you groan when he does, and he takes that as an opportunity to slowly enter your mouth with his tongue, and you squeak at the intrusion. He only laughs at that, but he doesn’t let up, his tongue seemingly having a mind of its own as it swirls and explores without restraint.

You don’t know how long this goes on—your brain filled with nothing but the sensation of Bakugou’s soft lips against yours—but he eventually pulls away, and you have to stop yourself from ogling at how debauched he looks with just his flushed face and swollen lips. You guess you aren’t any different, because Bakugou’s eyes rove over your face—hungrily—almost as if he’s drinking you in.

“You’re a good kisser,” you offer lamely, desperate for anything to fill the tense air.

At that, he coughs, as if he didn’t expect you to say that of all things. “T-thanks. You, too.”

You flash him a grateful smile, although it’s quick to falter.

A beat.

“So…” you try again, “What now?”

Bakugou looks down at his feet, suddenly shy. “I—uh, meant it, you know.”

You gulp. “Meant what?”

“That I want to fuck you.”

Shit.

“But I understand if you don’t want to, or if that’s moving too fast. It’s only been two weeks and—”

“Correction,” you cut in, “It’s been over two weeks. You said so yourself.”

That makes Bakugou pause, who only looks at you in bewilderment. “What are you trying to—”

“I’m ready,” you declare, voice nothing short of sure. “I want this.”

That seems to set something off in the pro-hero, because his entire demeanor shifts. You don’t get to comment on it before he’s back on you in an instant, encasing your lips in a searing kiss. You stagger back from the sheer force alone, grabbing onto his shirt for purchase as you stumble across the living room, not parting ways for even a second, his mouth hot against yours. He seizes you by the waist just as you almost crash into the wall, expertly maneuvering you through the door and into his bedroom, lips still molded together.

He only pulls away when you reach the foot of his bed, letting go of his grip on you to lift you bridal-style, the brazen display of effortless strength sending a shot of arousal into your veins. You loop your arms around his neck as he climbs over the mattress, inching toward the headboard before gently placing you down into the pillows. You waste no time pulling him back closer to you, initiating the kiss this time, and you think he must like that, judging by the way he groans quietly.

“What,” you mumble against his lips, “You like it when I take charge?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles back, although he doesn’t break away, only biting your lower lip as if in punishment. You wince, but he’s quick to lave over it with his tongue. “Hurry up and—” a kiss, “—take off—” another kiss, “—mm—your clothes.”

That makes you laugh. Of course, he’d order you to strip after just cussing you out.

You don’t complain, though, lightly shoving him away so you can pull your shirt over your head. You glance at Bakugou when it’s off of you, and sure enough, he’s staring at your chest.

“Aren’t you gonna undress as well?” you ask pointedly, hoping your embarrassment isn’t showing on your face.

“Shit, right,” he blubbers, and you find yourself smiling as he hurries to take off his shirt.

Only that smile doesn’t get to last for too long before it’s instantly replaced with an ‘o’ at the sight of his ridiculously defined abs.

You point to it, honestly perturbed. “How the fuck is that even possible?”

Now that makes him laugh, the motion causing his abdominal muscles to flex and you blanch. “What if I tell you I’ve had them since high school?”

“Liar.”

Bakugou grins. “Had you known, would you have forced me to listen to your confession?”

“That’s it,” you make a move to get out of the bed but he tugs you back, flashing you a boyish smile that you don’t want to admit makes you—kinda—all weak in the knees.

“That was the last one,” he promises, still grinning, “I swear.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you’re lying straight out of your ass.”

“Me?” he asks, feigning innocence as he crawls closer, towering over you again until you’re back to lying on the bed. “Never.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, looking anywhere but at him or his broad chest. Although, your efforts are all for naught because he lifts one hand and takes your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Can I take off your bra?” he inquires, the earnestness in his tone almost causing you to squirm.

You thankfully don’t—you’ve decided you’ve embarrassed yourself enough for today—and instead, nod. He doesn’t bother to say anything else as he reaches for your back, and you arch—slowly, Masaki did a number on you, after all—just in time so he can feel your clasp. It takes him a second to undo it, and a few more to lift it off of you, but when he does, the first thing he says is—

“Fuck.”

You snort. “I’m guessing that you like them.”

“Obviously, dumbass,” he spits, although it’s more playful than scathing. Then, he’s back to staring, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “Wow.”

“What, is this the first time you’ve seen boobs?” you joke—because there’s no way a guy like him has never been with a girl, at least physically—although the jesting lilt in your voice immediately dies out when his face falls and he looks away.

Shit.

There’s only one thing for you to do.

Reaching out for his nape, you tug him down until he’s only a few centimeters away, taking his lips into yours before he can protest. To your relief, he melts into your touch, back to eagerly returning the kiss in a matter of seconds. Wanting to make him feel good now more than ever, you let your other hand snake up to his hair, grabbing a fistful before pulling tentatively—as if to test the waters. You don’t end up disappointed—in fact, you’re far from it—when he groans against your mouth, louder than before. Emboldened by his generous reaction, you pull again—harder this time—and it’s your turn to be surprised when his hips buck involuntarily against your own, giving you the slightest bit of friction that’s nowhere near enough.

You rub your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache as discreetly as you can, although this motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who withdraws ever so slightly to study you.

“You okay?”

“Yes—it’s just,” you hesitate, before deciding you owe him the truth. “…I want you.”

Whatever Bakugou expected you to say, it sure wasn’t that—and so candidly, too—because he splutters, face evidently flushing despite the dim lights. “I-I want you, too,” he says honestly, “But I should warn you, I’ve never really done this before.”

“I thought you were gonna say you were massive,” you quip.

“Yeah,” he smirks without missing a beat, and you choke, “That, too.”

You slap his chest, which you instantly regret. “You’re the worst!”

He doesn’t say anything to that, only grinning as he leans in and—to your surprise—latches his lips onto your neck. You barely stop yourself from jolting in pleasure when he finds and nips at your pulse point—no doubt leaving a mark that you’re going to have to color correct tomorrow if you don’t want to get any funny looks. To your chagrin—or delight, you don’t fucking know at this point—Bakugou doesn’t stop his assault on your neck, instead bringing one hand up to graze the skin below your breast.

Suddenly tired of all the teasing, you grab his hand yourself and place it right on your boob, smiling when a curse is immediately muttered against your neck. You don’t let go of your hold, choosing to guide him on how to grope and fondle it instead. Bakugou catches on quickly, and before you know it, he’s already playing with your nipples, twisting and pulling them just the way you like.

“You can use your mouth, too, if you want,” you tell him a few moments later, stifling a moan when he sucks on a spot at the crook of your neck one more time, before nodding and easing down so he can be face to face with your chest.

He doesn’t let you get another word in before he takes a nipple into his mouth, and this time, you can’t stop yourself—you jerk against him—which only pushes it further. He takes the opening and starts sucking, and you’ve got half a mind to push him away. You don’t, though, and you doubt you could’ve anyway, his grip on your waist unrelenting as he switches between breasts, doing all sorts of things with his tongue that have your mind swimming.

“Still think I’m the worst?” he eventually looks up and asks roguishly, lips even more swollen and glistening with saliva.

“Jury’s still out—” you hiss when he pinches a nipple, and you swat him away. “Never mind, you are the worst.”

“Even when I do this?” he drawls, and you’re about to clarify with him what he’s going off about this time, when he unexpectedly slips a finger underneath your panties, and you barely, barely manage to bite back a moan.

“Fuck,” he rasps, “you’re so wet.”

You fight back a shudder even as he traces the outline of your sex, seemingly entranced. “Are you—are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“What, you saying I’m a liar?” is his snarky retort, although he thankfully doesn’t stop his ministrations. In fact, your question only seems to provoke him, causing him to apply more pressure.

“N-no, it’s just that, fuck—” you huff, “I-I wouldn’t be surprised if you went d-down on me and you’d be good at that, too.”

That makes Bakugou pause, and you almost whine at the loss.

But then he practically rips your underwear out of the way, and you somehow don’t find it in you to care at all. They were granny panties anyway, and you’re too engrossed in how the pro-hero urges you to open your thighs for him, and then prying them open himself when you take too long to do it.

Not to mention the look on his face when he finally sees you.

“Stop staring at me, Bakugou,” you can’t help but grumble.

“Katsuki.”

“What?”

He doesn’t shift to look at you, gaze still focused between your thighs. “Call me Katsuki.”

That’s all the foreboding he offers before he dives in and licks a long strip along your slit, and you almost scream, if not for the hand you slap over your mouth the second that he does. He’s relentless—even as you squirm and tremble underneath him—lapping on your wetness like a man who hasn’t had a drop of water for days. You jolt when he flicks his tongue right at your clit, hands instinctively shooting up to grab at his hair. But then he makes the mistake of pushing the wet muscle into your entrance, and you inadvertently pull—hard—hard enough that it causes him to groan against your core, sending a surge of vibrations straight into your pussy.

“Fuck,” you warble, looking down at Bakugou only to see him peering up at you with half-lidded eyes that’s got you almost moaning again. “Keep on doing that.”

Fortunately, Bakugou doesn’t tease you for sounding pathetic just now, only choosing to do as you say. He resumes, with renewed vigor, paying particular attention to your clit this time. He keeps on licking it, and then sucking, before licking it again, that you almost don’t notice when a finger presses against your hole. But then he’s inching it slowly and you’re suddenly all too aware of the intrusion.

The first thing that registers is that his fingers are definitely bigger than yours.

The second thing is that fuck—did he just insert a second one?

You look down to where he’s stuck to your body, but you can’t see anything beyond his head of ash-blonde hair.

But then he does a scissoring motion inside you just as he suckles at your clit, and that’s all the confirmation you need. You can’t help it—you finally moan—and you barely miss him grinning against your pussy at the sound of it.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes out, lifting his head a bit so he can speak. “I thought you were never gonna moan for me again.”

“Again?” you barely manage to answer, already missing his mouth on you. You may be out of it, but you’re certain you haven’t cracked until just now.

“Already forgot?” he goads, pulling his fingers out of you. “Let me remind you then.”

Before you can get up and coerce him to just shut up and continue what he was doing, he’s back to towering over you, smashing his lips against yours.

And then he does it—the thing he did before. The first day in your shared bedroom. You still don’t know what it is, but he does something with his tongue, or his mouth? His teeth? You don’t fucking know, but it’s coupled with his scalding hold on your body, and despite yourself, you moan.

He promptly pulls away, a proud smirk on his face.

“Now, don’t hold back,” he commands cooly as you gape at him in half offense, half shock. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He then makes quick work of taking off his boxers, and at this point, you can only stare at him as he eases it off.

He wasn’t kidding.

If he’s noticing you practically eye-fucking him, though, he doesn’t comment on it, although the faint tinge of scarlet on his cheeks is undeniable. Instead, he only crawls over you again, right until he’s hovering over your pelvis.

Wait.

“Bakugou—” you start.

“Katsuki,” he corrects petulantly.

“Katsuki,” you force yourself to say, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious, “Let me make you feel good, too.”

“Next time,” he quickly responds, and you feel your heart lurch at the promise of a continuation. “I just need to be inside you, or I’m gonna fucking nut.”

You frown, although his honest admission sends an undeniable thrill down your spine. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he seethes, “Now, come on.”

You don’t waste another second, opening up your legs just enough for Bakugou to position himself between them. He’s got an arm propped at the side of your head to support his weight, while the other reaches down to finally grab his cock. He instantly hisses at the contact, and you don’t have to look to know it’s his pre-cum that’s dribbling down your thighs.

He then mutters a curse to himself, but it’s not exactly laced with lust just as it has been the past how many minutes.

And that’s when it hits you.

The guy is nervous.

You reach up to touch his cheek, his eyes shooting up to meet yours when you do. You offer him a small smile, one that you hope says ‘I’m alright’ and that ‘I want this’. But then you remember this is Bakugou freaking Katsuki, and the last thing he needs is to be placated.

“Relax, Katsuki,” you coo, grinning when he shoots you a glare.

“And you’re gonna have to do that on your own,” you tease, “I’m all out for today.”

That lights a flame under his ass, because the glare just now morphs into a look of determination, and one glimpse of it is enough to tell you you’re fucked.

“Spread your fucking pussy,” he growls, and you immediately do as he says. He’s back to gripping his cock in an instant, giving himself a few pumps before he’s aligning it with your entrance.

And just like that, he pushes in.

You both groan when he does, his massive dick barely breaching your hole, and yet, it already feels like your nerves are on fire. You sneak a peek at the pro-hero, and you’re glad you do, because you’re met with the glorious sight of Bakugou with his eyes clenched close, lips bit in a fierce attempt to stay quiet.

“Tell me when to move,” he rasps out, refusing to open his eyes.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, bringing your arms up to wrap them around his torso. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” he seethes, just as you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Or else I’m gonna finish.”

Knowing better than to press him, you nod instead, before wiggling your hips slightly. That grants you a curse from him, but before he can cuss you out, you speak up.

“I think I’m ready. You can move no—” you hiss when he pushes without warning, and he freezes.

“Fuck, I’m sorr—”

“Just—slowly, Katsuki. Go on, move.”

He pushes again—slowly, this time—and you can only sit there and take it as he eases in, inch by inch—stopping sometimes when it gets a bit much for you—until he’s finally, fully sheathed in.

“Shit.”

“God.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Bakugou grits out, head nestled within the crook of your neck. He still refuses to look at you, but apparently, that doesn’t matter as long as you’re being praised, because his comment inadvertently causes you to clamp down on his cock, and his breath hitches.

“Jesus,” he drones, burying himself further into your neck. “You’re fucking unbelievable.”

You don’t answer him, choosing to tentatively roll your hips against his instead. He moans in your ear, and this time, you can’t help but whimper.

“Move, Katsuki,” you plead, “I can’t wait anymore.”

That seems to sober him right up, because he grunts in acknowledgement, before slowly lifting himself with his arms. Only then does he opens his eyes, and it takes everything within him not to cum at the sight of you.

He knows better than to fucking give up, though—not when he’s come this far—so with renewed purpose, he starts with small, shallow thrusts that have you mewling at him and him grunting at you, until he gradually builds speed and he’s pulling almost all the way out only to slam back into you again.

He does this again and again—somehow deeper and deeper each time—all the while panting and moaning above you, until he prods at a particular spot that has you jerking violently against him, cursing. “Fuc—”

“Shit,” he freezes, “What—”

“No, no, no, no,” you cry out, clawing at his bare arms, “Don’t stop!”

At your request, Bakugou’s back to pounding into you in an instant, and you barely miss him looking at you with feral eyes before he hits the spot again, and you scream.

“Right—fuck—right there!”

At that, Bakugou rolls his hips once more and hits your G-spot squarely, and you moan.

“Right there?” he breathes out in question, chest puffing in pride as he watches you bob your head desperately, too blissed out to even care what you look like.

But then your walls are clamping down on him again, and Bakugou curses. “I’m not gonna l-last any l-longer,” he manages to get out, choosing to look at anywhere but your face.

“P-play—fuck,” you choke out, “—play with my c-clit.”

And when you don’t immediately feel his finger on your bud: “Hurry.”

That has Bakugou rushing to rub your clit, and you can only beg for more as the overwhelming feeling of his cock inside you mixes with the euphoria brought by his fingers—until you feel the tell-tale signs of your impending orgasm.

“K-Katsuki,” you shudder, “I’m gonna c-cum.”

“I’m g-gonna—” he grunts, eyes clenched closed, “—fuck—I’m gonna cum, t-too.”

“Katsuki,” you call again, and he turns his head to face your direction. “Look at me.”

And when he does—open his eyes—you roll your hips against his as best as you can, and you say it.

“Give it to me, hero.”

And just like that, he cums.

Hard.

And you cum right with him, digging your nails into his biceps as you moan, so loud you wish he’d kiss you to shut you up, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he moans with you—a strangled one that strangely sends a pang of longing straight to your chest, a longing that you can now finally admit is for the very person in your arms, who you so ardently wish would stay there, even if the mission is long over.

You don’t say any of this, though, even as he kisses your forehead before slowly pulling out, or even as he silently pads to the bathroom to get a towel so he can get you cleaned up. You thank him as he does, and watch him as he puts it away and hesitates for a moment—as if the manual he’s read about sex as a high schooler ends at physical aftercare and he’s run out of instructions.

It’s after a few more moments of awkward silence do you finally sit up and move, scooching over to make space beside you. Bakugou’s eyes trail your movement, widening when he realizes just what you’re doing. He’s stiff even as he crawls to the spot next to you, promptly taking the duvet cover that was tossed to the side in the middle of…everything, before laying it on top of your bodies.

“Thanks,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say.

“‘s nothing,” is his reply, voice equally quiet.

Neither of you says anything for a while, even as Bakugou gently tugs your head so you can rest it on his shoulder.

It’s you, though, who breaks the silence.

“You know, had I known things were gonna end this way, I would’ve just slept in the same bed as you.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

a/n. :') first off, i want to thank you, friend, for taking a chance on this series and reading it up 'til the end. this has been the biggest endeavor i've ventured into as a writer, and it still feels surreal to me that i'm writing this now as i am about to post the last chapter. that being said, the biggest thank you to everyone who's shown love to all out of luck, especially the ones who left even just a single-worded comment. with the series having reached its end, it would mean the world to me if you let me know what you think about it / how it was for you <3 thank you so so much!!!

˖⁺‧₊ 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!

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unabletonotlovesatoru · 2 days ago

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𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ teddy’s notes: part 2 of “rivals to lovers” with bakugou — part 1 here!! enjoy <3

the battle had been brutal. civilians were safe, the villains had been taken down, but the aftermath was ugly. smoke still curled in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and burnt asphalt. sirens wailed in the distance, red and blue lights flashing against the darkened sky, and the occasional groan of a wounded enemy filled the eerie silence.

your body ached. bruises were already forming under your hero suit, the sting of a gash on your arm a dull throb. but you ignored it. pain was secondary. what mattered now was—

��dynamight,” you called out, voice sharp with urgency.

bakugou was hunched over, one knee on the cracked pavement, his breathing ragged. one of his hands was clutching his side, blood seeping between his fingers and staining the black fabric of his suit.

he was trying to stand.

“don’t be an idiot,” you snapped, rushing toward him. “you’re bleeding out—”

“i don’t need your help,” he bit out, voice strained. his teeth were gritted, his eyes still burning with that familiar stubborn fire. “i can handle myself—”

his legs buckled.

without thinking, you lunged forward, catching him before he collapsed completely. his weight was heavier than you expected, his body trembling slightly against yours. you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his blood against your skin.

“bakugou,” you said, firmer this time. “stop. you’re not okay.”

his fingers curled into your sleeve. “i—”

but he didn’t finish.

his head dipped forward, his body going slack against you. your heart lurched.

“shit,” you muttered under your breath, shifting your grip on him. “you’re really doing this right now?”

there was no response. he was out cold.

a flicker of something twisted in your chest—frustration, concern, something else you didn’t have time to name. shaking it off, you adjusted your stance and hoisted him up. it wasn’t easy, not with your own injuries screaming at you, but there was no way in hell you were leaving him here.

“you’re gonna hate this,” you muttered as you started moving. “but i really don’t care.”

—

bakugou woke up to the sterile scent of antiseptic, the steady beep of a heart monitor, and the dull throb of pain radiating through his body.

his eyes blinked open slowly, vision unfocused at first, the too-bright hospital lights making him wince. he felt heavy, sluggish—probably from the pain meds they had pumped into him. his fingers twitched against the scratchy sheets, and as awareness settled in, so did the bitter taste in his mouth.

he fucking hated hospitals.

he forced himself to sit up slightly, gritting his teeth when the ache in his side flared up. his mind raced to piece together what had happened. the battle. the explosion. the sharp, searing pain in his ribs. the last thing he remembered was standing his ground, refusing to fall—refusing to show weakness—

but then he had fallen.

his jaw clenched. his body had betrayed him.

he swallowed hard, shifting his gaze around the room. his hero costume was folded neatly on a chair in the corner, torn and stained with dried blood. his gauntlets were nowhere in sight, probably confiscated for safety reasons.

the hospital tv was on, the volume low. he ignored it at first—until he caught the images flashing across the screen.

his body tensed.

his own face, bloodied and unconscious.

you.

carrying him.

bakugou inhaled sharply, something twisting violently in his chest.

there you were, hauling him through the wreckage, your body tense with exhaustion, your own injuries ignored in favor of getting him to safety. your face was unreadable—determined, but something else, too. something that made his stomach churn.

the news anchor’s voice droned on in the background. “pro-hero dynamight was critically injured during the confrontation but was saved by fellow pro-hero—”

saved.

his fingers curled into the sheets.

the word made him sick.

bakugou katsuki didn’t get saved.

he didn’t need saving.

…except he had.

except you had carried him, had refused to leave him behind, had gotten him here when his own body had failed him.

his pride screamed at him to be angry, to be resentful. he should be. this was humiliating. this was the kind of thing that would be plastered over social media, that would follow him for weeks—months, even.

but the anger never fully came.

instead, all he felt was a strange, sinking sensation.

he hadn’t even been awake for a full minute, and already, he had to face the fact that he had lost—lost control, lost the fight against his own limits, lost the ability to act like none of this mattered.

bakugou swallowed hard, his throat tight.

a sharp knock on the door cut through the silence, and before he could respond, the door swung open. you stepped in.

your arms were crossed, your own injuries still evident—the bandage wrapped tightly around your arm, the cut above your eyebrow. but you were standing. upright. strong.

like he should have been.

“you’re awake,” you noted.

“obviously,” he muttered.

“how do you feel?”

he rolled his eyes. “like shit.”

“good,” you deadpanned. “maybe that’ll remind you not to be an idiot next time.”

his eye twitched. “i wasn’t—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, voice edged with something sharp. “you were bleeding out, bakugou. if i hadn’t dragged your stubborn ass to the hospital, you’d be dead.”

he looked away, jaw tightening.

you sighed, rubbing your temples. “whatever. just… don’t do that again.”

before he could respond, you turned and walked out, leaving him alone with the weight of his own damn pride.

—

a few days later, you received an anonymous bouquet of flowers at your agency.

you stared at them, confused.

“who sent these?” you asked your assistant.

she shrugged. “no name. just an anonymous delivery.”

raising an eyebrow, you examined the bouquet—simple, but thoughtfully arranged. not overly fancy, but not cheap either. a small card was tucked inside, only containing one word.

thanks.

your frown deepened.

who the hell—?

—

bakugou, back at his apartment, scowled at his phone, gripping it tightly as he stared at the news once more.

he had thought about signing the card. had thought about owning up to it, about just saying something instead of hiding behind anonymity like a coward.

but when the time came, he couldn’t do it. his pride wouldn’t let him.

his fingers hovered over his phone screen. he could just text you. something simple. something like, thanks for not letting me die, i guess.

but the words never made it past his fingertips.

bakugou katsuki didn’t say thank you.

so, for now, the flowers would have to do.

#— teddy’s writing shop 𐙚🧸ྀི #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #bakugou katsuki fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou #mha x you #bakugou katsuki x you

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fluff-angst-fanfics · 2 days ago

Text

🥺

where pride meets love

synopsis: in a u.a. highschool reunion, your husband is up next in introducing his family.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: inspired by @call-memissbrightside

the gymnasium at u.a. is alive with activity, filled with faculty, students, and heroes from all walks of life.

katsuki’s standing near the back, holding your baby girl in his arms, her tiny hands clutching at the fabric of his hero uniform, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her.

his expression is a mix of annoyance—because honestly, this whole “family introduction” thing is a bit much—and tenderness, which only those closest to him will ever notice.

you stand beside him, your hand resting on his arm, and for a split second, you catch a glimpse of something different in his usual scowl—something soft.

you’ve seen it before, but only in moments like this, when he’s looking at the little life in his arms or the family he’s built.

principal nezu steps forward with a polite clap of his paws.

“thank you all for coming! we’re glad to have so many wonderful alumni here today. if anyone with families would like to introduce them, now’s your chance.”

the crowd goes quiet, waiting for someone to step up. katsuki glares around, crossing his arms over his chest, but it’s obvious he’s trying to look disinterested in the attention he’s about to receive.

it doesn’t work, though. he feels all eyes on him, even before nezu directs them that way.

you give him a small smile, teasing him with a gentle nudge to his side. “you ready to show your family off?”

he scoffs but doesn’t pull away. instead, his gaze softens just a little when he looks down at your daughter, who smiles up at him with those same bright eyes you both adore so much.

his chest swells, and despite his usual gruffness, his pride is impossible to hide.

you feel it too—the silent understanding between the two of you, the knowledge that this moment, in front of everyone, is just another reflection of how far your life together has come.

with a sigh, katsuki straightens his back, shoulders broadening as he stands a little taller. “alright, fine. let’s get this over with,” he mutters under his breath. but then he clears his throat, lifting his chin just a bit.

he shifts his daughter against his shoulder, gently adjusting her so she’s more comfortable in his arms, and with a look at you that says, here we go, he raises his voice for everyone to hear.

“this—” he gestures to your baby, her tiny hands reaching for him in her usual, curious way—“this is my kickass baby.”

he flashes a rare smile down at her, the kind that could melt the hardest of hearts, before pulling you into him with his free arm, draping it over your shoulders.

“and this here,” he says, puffing his chest out slightly, “this is my kickass wife, y/n. the best damn woman in the world.”

you catch his eye, and for a brief moment, it feels like the whole room has faded away. there’s only the two of you, standing side by side, as he proudly introduces you to everyone in his own way.

a few of the students near the front start whispering to each other, smiles on their faces. kirishima, always the supportive friend, claps katsuki on the back, his grin wide.

"man, you really went all out with the family introduction, huh?" kirishima laughs, his voice loud enough for katsuki to hear.

katsuki looks over at him, narrowing his eyes, but there’s no malice in his gaze.

instead, it’s just the usual katsuki way of pretending to be annoyed. “shut it,” he growls, but his hand tightens around yours.

kirishima raises his hands in mock surrender, still chuckling. “I’m just saying, you’re looking like a proud family man.”

“damn right I am,” katsuki mutters, his gaze falling back on your daughter, who is now gripping his finger as she babbles in her own little way.

his eyes soften again, a rare, unguarded moment that no one else seems to notice, but you do.

you always do.

as the buzz in the room continues around them, katsuki’s gaze remains fixed on your daughter, his lips pulling into the smallest of smiles as he watches her reach for his hand.

she’s talking—if you can call it that—her baby words tumbling out like she’s already got something important to say.

you can hear the quiet adoration in katsuki’s voice when he responds to her, low and soft, “yeah, yeah, I hear ya, kid.”

you lean into his side, the warmth of his arm around your shoulders feeling like home. it’s one of those moments where everything feels right.

amid the chaos, in front of so many people, katsuki looks just like the dad you always knew he’d be—strong, protective, and completely head over heels for the tiny person in his arms.

the crowd slowly starts to disperse, some students moving towards the refreshment table, others chatting amongst themselves.

katsuki stays still, barely noticing the shift in the room. his eyes stay locked on your baby, a tiny, content smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“want me to take her?” you ask, nudging him gently with your elbow. “you look like you could use a break.”

katsuki looks down at your daughter, his arms tightening ever so slightly around her. she stares up at him, her big eyes soft and trusting, and for a brief second, it seems like time stands still.

then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, but the fondness in his gaze remains.

“nah,” he mutters gruffly. “she’s good here. I’m fine.”

you let out a small chuckle and settle against him, your hand resting gently on his arm as you watch your daughter settle down against his chest, a soft yawn escaping her lips.

katsuki pulls her a little closer, his other arm winding around you, bringing you both in.

the way his grip tightens around both of you, the way his hand moves just a little bit to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder, and the sound of the crowd fades to the background.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

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writeriguess · 2 days ago

Note

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you—it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

171 notes · View notes

yawchi · 2 days ago

Text

GENTLE

bakugou katsuki x gn!reader

includes: very. Very soft bkg. fluff n feel good.

notes: old fic reupload

There’s a certain gentleness to the way Bakugou bares himself to you in these moments.

When he’s slow to peel the hero uniform off his body. Dropping a gauntlet, then its pair. Kicking off a steel toe boot. Slipping off a heavy knee guard. He doesn’t shield himself, doesn’t attempt to hide. He just bares himself, piece by piece in your apartment’s too cramped bathroom.

It’s easy, open and inviting how he doesn’t stop you from running your fingers down his spine. The shivers that run up it, the hardly audible sigh that slips through canine bitten lips. He pushes subconsciously into your touch, eases himself into your hands and doesn’t jerk away when you press into a knot beneath his shoulder.

And he doesn’t even mind that he’s standing bare in front of you, he just watches you in the mirror. Vermillion eyes cataloging your every move as you mold around him—press your lips to his shoulder, curl a hand around his chest, fan your breath against scarred pale skin.

His hands work on their own at times like this, follow a routine he’s ingrained in his mind as he reaches for you. It’s so far from harsh, his fingers tugging your shirt over your head, undoing the button on your jeans. He strips you in front of him. Leaves you as nothing but skin and bones. Nothing to separate, nothing to divide.

Warm palms wrap around your wrists and drag you towards the shower. And he hasn’t even started the water yet, and you both know it’ll feel like icicles on your skin because of it, but you follow him anyway.

You’re right, and the water wracks your bones as Bakugou turns it on. But just like everything else around the hero in front of you, it thaws. Nothing stays frozen for long, melting and igniting and soon the water turns warm as well as your chest as Bakugou presses a kiss to your wrist, your forearm, your collarbone. He pauses there, applies a few extra languid brushes of his lips against the soft skin, skims his teeth along the dip of bone.

You press into him, allowing him to dig blunt nails into your waist as you comb your hand back through quickly dampening blond tufts. It’s intimate, the way you tug his head up enough so that you can reach his lips, the way you meld them together so perfectly. It’s unnerving, how his groan reverbates from his throat down into yours. Like you’re drinking him up, swallowing down everything he’ll give you until there’s nothing left.

He can’t help it, how he shoves you against the shower wall. And it isn’t his fault, really, how his hips press to yours with a sense of urgency. And maybe the exhales blowing past his lips and through yours are uncharacteristically breathy, a smidge too airy and light and damn near whiny as he tries and tries and tries to somehow get closer to you. Like he wishes he could crawl in and share the same skin.

You think if you could, you’d let him. You’d give up any part of yourself to him, allow him this indulgence in the silence of your home, under the serenity of the rain of your shower.

Because it’s gentle, the way his hand slides between your bodies and suddenly it’s his turn to drink in any sound you might dare to let out. And you bask in it and relish in it and let yourself drown in the tenderness that is Bakugou Katsuki.

Hardened number two hero who softens from nothing but your touch.

#yawchi writing #bkg x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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angelbaby191 · 2 days ago

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BNHA BOYS

You text them you need something on your period

AFAB Reader

mha/BNHA smau

genre: fluff

#mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #denki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #hanta sero x reader #sero x reader

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stargirlygirl · 21 hours ago

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their omega

જ⁀➴ chapter eight: bathroom shenanigans

alpha! bakugou, kirishima, denki, sero x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, thigh riding, handjob, femdom, sub!denki?, denki's rutting, smau + fic, 3.7k words

m.list

a/n: 'household🏡' gc from your pov + how tf did this go from ‘ride my thigh bbg’ to ‘such a slut for mommy’? might just be my fav chapter of the story tbh

fic underneath smau

With Denki rutting, Hanta was no match for the “fake blond”.

After delivering a brutal shock to the tape hero’s stomach, Denki stalked up to you (ignoring the two alphas next to you ofc) and grabbed your wrist.

Despite your confusion, he dragged you into the house. His grip on you was tight as he led you down the twisting hallways, all the way to the bathroom. He shoved the door open and tugged you inside behind him.

Now, you’re dabbing the cut on his eyebrow with a cotton ball dipped in disinfectant. He’s sitting on the bathtub's edge and you’re standing between his legs. He can’t keep his eyes off your slightly parted lips and the way your tongue darts out to wet them every so often.

He coos your name, and you remove the cotton ball from his brow to look at him. You hum, urging him to go on as you move back to the sink. You grab a fresh cotton ball and return to standing between his legs.

Denki says quietly, “Did I look cool, baby?” You chortle softly and nod.

You say warmly, “You looked so cool, honey.” You move back to the sink a few more times while cleaning his wounds. They’re only minor and you reassure him they’ll be gone in a week.

You go to dab his bloody lip but he grabs your wrist.

Gazing up at you, Denki says low, “Don’t worry about that. You can just kiss it better, right?” You chuckle and pull back from him. He lets go of your wrist with ease. You place the cotton ball down and clean up the mess you’ve made around the sink.

As you wash your hands, you feel Denki’s lean arms wrap around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder and presses his body into yours. You catch those golden eyes in the mirror while wiping your hands.

He smirks and turns his head to the side, planting a kiss on the side of your neck. His long fingers curl in your locks and sweep them from your shoulder, giving him access to your supple skin.

You gasp in pleasure as his tongue slides up your neck. The wet trail it leaves behind cools with the breeze entering through the ajar window. You tilt your head to the side and back as he continues to kiss your hot flesh sloppy style. His spit-filled kisses turn into licks and bites as he nears your other scent gland — your unmarked scent gland.

Rough hands bunch up your shirt and expose your stomach to the cold air. You moan loudly as he grabs handfuls of your tits through your lace bra. His canines nip at your scent gland as his fingers pinch your erect nipples. You throw your head back as a soft mewl passes through your lips.

Denki groans into your sensitive spot as his fingers play with your breasts. The vibrations from his chest and throat, and the euphoric feeling of his hands on your body make you arch your back. Your whine turns into a gasp as your ass hits the blond’s hips. You can feel the stiff base of his cock pressing into the ripe flesh of your peaches.

This coaxes another groan from Denki and he squeezes your boobs. You mewl his name as your back arches further.

He mumbles into your skin, “You gonna let me mark you too, mama?” Once that name slips from his lips, you moan pathetically.

Suddenly, Denki removes his hands from your chest and spins you around by your hips. He grips the edge of the sink bench, trapping you underneath him.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you tug him to your lips. As you kiss, he whines about it being too hard. You can taste the iron of his blood on your tongue. It makes you moan into his lips.

His fingers tangle in your hair and pull gently on your roots, tipping your head back. He laps at your neck again, relishing the flavour of your delicate skin.

Your eyes scrunch shut as he sucks harshly on your scent gland. The act has you moaning uncontrollably while your hands squeeze his firm shoulders. He pulls off your skin with a popping sound and smirks at the redness rising to the tender flesh.

He coos, “Come on, mama. Let me claim you as mine.” You bite your lip as you whine. You’re like a puppet and he’s your master, pulling the strings with the way he manoeuvres you. And he dares to call you ‘mama’ as he does so.

Your alpha tilts your head forward and captures your lips in another rough, whiney kiss. Tongues swirl and air is exchanged, his spit drips down your chin. As he pulls away, your lips are connected by the clear, stringy fluid.

He smirks as you whimper, “Please mark me, baby.” He chuckles at how breathless you are. Those hazy eyes and spit-stained lips unlock something carnal buried deep within him. Not like you’re the same or anything.

Panting, the blond leans down with his hands on your mid-back, pulling you flush against him. You take a deep breath as he bites down on your scent gland, releasing pleasure within you unbeknownst to man. Tingling sensations spread like wildfire through your body as his bite is engraved into your skin forever. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The intoxicating mix of pain and ecstasy doesn’t affect you like it did the first time. It’s much more bearable, and your mind is clearer.

When Denki finally releases you from the clutches of his jaw, you’re still able to stand upright (with a bit of help). You rest your forehead against his shoulder as his arms wrap around you. You can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Over the next few minutes, you both hold each other and calm down from your highs.

It’s only now that you realise how goddamn fucking wet you are. You squirm in Denki’s arms as you feel the slick dripping and pressing against your sopping cunt, ruining your lace panties.

Your mate notices your discomfort. He cups your cheek and lifts your gaze to his golden eyes.

He says softly, “What’s wrong, babe?” You shake your head and look down, a fresh blush gathering on your cheeks from your embarrassment. The blond connects the dots as he takes a deep breath in, the scent of your sweet slick burning his nostrils and throat in the best way possible.

He groans in your ear, “Come ‘ere, mommy. Let me make you feel good.” You gasp as he bundles up the sides of your shorts in his fists. The movement pushes your soaked panties right up against your pussy; you stare up at him with wide eyes. The little ‘o’ shape of your lips and pretty doe eyes makes him smirk.

Denki crouches down and pulls your shorts and panties off together. Once you step over them, he hurls them to the side.

“Always in such slutty shorts, babe,” he teases you. You laugh in embarrassment as heat rises to your cheeks. He stands back up, hands trailing up your divine curves, and moves beside you. He turns on the tap and washes his hands.

Your alpha says, grinning, “Wouldn’t wanna touch my girls’ pussy with these filthy hands, would I?” You shake your head vigorously as your thighs clutch at the thought of his fingers between your folds. He dries them off and returns to standing in front of you.

“Where were we, mama?” He asks with a lewd look in his eyes. You whine and grab his hand, placing it on your lower tummy. He chuckles breathily, “So eager for me.” Your alpha splits your legs with his knee, making you mewl as your slick drips onto his clothed thigh. He curses beneath his breath. Those delicious fingers down your cunt, making your back arch and dirty moans fall from your lips.

“Fuck, mama. Give me a sec,” Denki grunts. He removes his hand from your pussy making you whine. The sight of your whimpering frame and pouty lips makes his cock painfully harder. He kicks off his sweatpants and boxers, erection springing free. Seeing his hard cock oozing out pre-cum has your mouth and cunt drooling.

Mindlessly, you palm your heat before wrapping your silky hand your alpha’s length. He groans loud as your wet hand grips his shaft so fucking tight and begins jerking him off slowly. His sunshine eyes flicker between his cock and your face; he watches you watch yourself giving him a handjob.

His sticky hand returns to your sloppy cunt and his fingers circle your clit. You moan, your ecstasy echoing off the bathroom walls as he circles your clit faster and harder.

You whimper his name as you look up into his eyes and notice the sweat beading across his forehead. Pleasure jolts up your spine and has you moaning again as Denki continues his ministrations.

You do your best to jerk him off but, you don’t know if it feels good as you are continually distracted by your pleasure. And the entire time, your slicks gushes from your hole onto his milky thigh.

At this moment, your alpha can’t stop staring at his wet skin; it glistens in the late morning sunlight. He licks his lips, a grunt escaping them as you drag your finger through his creamy slit.

He slides his fingers out of your sopping hole and smacks your clit, earning a strangled moan from you. He then grabs your hips and pulls you onto his soaking thigh. The skin-to-skin contact is heavenly. It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, moans spewing from your mouth as your free hand grips his t-shirt.

Denki begins rocking you back and forth on his thigh, making you moan even louder. You wrap your arm around his shoulder for stability as you start bucking your hips on his toned thigh. You jerk your hand even more frantically, trying to match the pleasure that your mate is making you feel right now.

You gaze up into his eyes, squealing at the squelching sounds from below. Your lips are trapped between your teeth as you try to quieten yourself down, but he isn’t having any of that.

Your alpha switches to holding you by the waist with one arm while his free hand comes to pry your lip out from your teeth. Once the plump flesh pokes out, he pulls you into a tender kiss. His mouth muffles your mewls perfectly, and his tongue explores every corner of your mouth.

He groans as your pussy becomes even more soaked. Your arousal is now dripping down the back of his thigh and onto the bathroom floor. He pulls away from your lips but keeps his forehead pressed against yours.

The intimacy of this moment is unlike any other. Never before have you been so vulnerable with another man. And not in an “I’m a virgin” way. There’s something about how erratically you’re riding his thigh, how fucking syrupy your cunt is for this man, how close you are, the twitching of his cock beneath your fingers, the streams of blood crying from your fresh mark. You’ve never felt so connected to another being as you do to Denki right now.

You smash your lips back on his as you feel your orgasm build. Your thighs tense just like your pussy as you rub yourself against him faster and harder.

At this point, you start bouncing on his thigh. The slapping of his saturated thigh against your equally soaked clit makes you squeal and whine in ecstasy. You nibble on his lower lip and taste his blood on the tip of your tongue. With a moan, he pulls away from you and stares at you pouty.

“Zoinks! You’re so fuckin’ mean, mommy” Denki grunts out. You suppress a laugh as he grips your waist even tighter and bounces you on his thigh even harder and faster. His only wish is that he had enough time to take your shirt off so he could see your tits bouncing too.

The mirror behind you is foggy from your intimacy; the air is filled with the sounds of smacking, slicked skin and pornographic moaning and whimpering.

You scream out, “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” Your mate groans as your thighs clamp tightly around him, shaking. Your frame trembles as you moan and scream from how fucking good your orgasm feels. You grab onto him even tighter, pulling yourself into his chest as your climax surges throughout your body.

You let go of his leaky cock to grab onto his hips, fully unable to support yourself right now as you shudder through your high. You moan his name over and over as you slowly rub your clit on his cum-soaked thigh.

Denki presses you back into the sink top and holds you close as you calm down. Your body shakes and you moan loudly every so often from the final tremours of pleasure.

Once you slow to a stop, he rubs your back and whispers in your ear how good you are for him. He holds you until your breathing calms down. Sighing, you look up at him with ruddy cheeks and a glowy smile. He chuckles and presses a sweet kiss to your swollen lips. You moan and cup his cheeks, leaning into his loving touch.

He kisses you tentatively at first, uncertain of how you need him right now. But with your guidance, the kiss feels natural and romantic in a way that only such a vulnerable and pleasurable experience can draw out. Sighing, you pull back and gaze at him. He gently smiles and pecks you on the cheek, earning a giggle from you.

He moves to your ear and whispers, “You okay, mama?” You nod and kiss his jaw.

You sigh, “M’fine baby. Y-you okay? You need me to—”

“Later,” he grunts, shaking his head and moving his slick-covered thigh. You shudder and mewl, gripping him tightly. He shushes and reassures you before straightening his leg and standing on it, leaving you with no upright support other than his arms around you. You mumble his name into his neck, and he groans.

Denki strokes your hair and says, “I gotta clean you up, omega. Wanna take a shower together?” You hum in response. He grabs you by the underarms like a cat and lifts you, setting you down on the bench you’ve been leaning on. You sigh as he sets you down, still very sensitive down there. He grabs the hem of your tee and pulls it over your head.

As soon as it’s thrown to the side, your alpha is admiring your breasts. If you weren’t so tired, he would bury his face between them and kiss and nip and suck your soft flesh. He cusses quietly as he pulls his shirt off, telling you to wait for him while he turns the shower on.

You stare at his delicious back muscles, grateful for being blessed with such a spell-binding sight. It sends new waves of pleasure shooting through your body like little electric shocks. Slick starts pooling on the wooden sink top as he comes back over to you. You moan softly as your eyes flicker from his cock to his face.

Denki carries you to the shower. Setting you down, the warm water sprays on your body. You take his hand and lead him under the water with you. You both sigh and cuddle in the shower, eventually sudsing your bodies up and rinsing it off.

Now, your back is pressed against Denki’s chest. He’s kissing your neck and shoulders, leaving bites along your collarbone. His cock is still as hard as a fucking rock; it presses into your lower back.

You shift back into him slightly, causing him to groan and bite down on the soft flesh of your shoulder tip. You whimper as he peppers the reddening spot with kisses.

He mutters into your skin, “Don’t do that.” You moan and chuckle.

“Why not?” You tease. His grip on your hips tightens as he sucks a hickey near your fresh mating mark, making you moan and your back arch.

“Denkiiii,” you mewl. He pulls off your neck and turns you around, just like how this all started. He cups your face and kisses you. His lips are on yours with bruising pressure and he coaxes your tongue into his mouth to suck on it.

The sensation makes your eyes shoot wide open. You squirm in his hold for a few seconds before you begin enjoying how it feels. Relaxing back into him, you trail your fingers up and down his chest.

You’re feeling a bit brave right now.

Your mate yelps and pulls away from the kiss as you pinch his nipples. His hands wrap around your wrists as his gaze flicks between the smirk on your lips and your fingertips curling around his erect nipples.

You coo, “You like that, baby?” He whines and nods. You take one of his nipples into your mouth with a grin, making him moan beneath you. You circle your tongue around his nipple before sucking on it harshly, repeating the process a few times before moving on to his other.

As you do, his fingers twirl in your locks while his other hand squeezes your hips. Pulling back with an even wider smirk, you plant a quick peck on his lips.

“You gonna let me help you finish?” You say with a raised brow. Denki gulps and nods, grabbing your hand and wrapping it around his stiff cock. He groans as your fingers get a good grip on it, a tight grip.

You fuck him with your fist, watching every little expression he makes. You don’t miss a single time his eyes roll back, or his tongue drags across his busted lip (and then the little wince afterwards from his forgetfulness). You bring your other hand to the back of his head and pull his face back to your neck.

You whisper in his ear, “You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you?” He moans into your damp skin while you pick up the pace, jerking him off faster.

He whimpers, “Y-yes, mommy.” You pull his head back by his hair and look into his golden eyes. You grin at how lust-filled they are, at the parting of his lips and pink dusting his cheeks. You brush your lips against his and moan against them. Then at the last second, you move back to avoid his kiss. The little game makes your golden boy whine.

“Do you want me to suck on your cock, baby?” You say sweetly. If only your tone knew the words they laced. Your alpha shakes his head, but you can feel a new stream of pre-cum leaking down his shaft. You gaze down for a moment to confirm, and the sight of his creamy tip widens your grin.

You look back at him and say, pouting mockingly, “Why not, baby?” His little helpless whine makes you moan and you lean that much closer to him, your tits brushing against his chest.

He stutters, “P-please don’t, mama. If you do, I-I-fuck-mama—” He drops his head back down on your shoulder. You suddenly stop pumping his cock and he becomes a whining, moaning mess against your skin.

“No! No, mama! Why?” He says as his body shudders.

You gently rub his back as you coo, “Why can’t I suck you off, honey?”

He whines, “’Cause if you do, I-I won’t be able to s-stop myself.” You chuckle at his words as they seem to imply some kind of self-restraint you doubt Denki has. “It’s not funny,” he pouts.

You tease him, “Like you’re holding back.” He pulls back from your shoulder and looks you dead straight in the eye.

He says seriously, “I’m holding myself back so fucking much right now, baby. Don’t make it worse, please.” You hum in response and kiss him softly.

“Fine,” you relent. You wrap your hand back around his cock and fist-fuck him until he’s trembling. He’s leaking so much fucking pre-cum right now, cock twitching with the pressure of his orgasm. You get down on your knees and pump his cock with both your hands toward your chest.

You look up at him and say, smirking, “I want you to cum on my tits, baby. I know you like them.” He moans so fucking pathetically. You giggle as you watch his knot swell, and you urge him on.

With a shout, he cums all over your breasts. The searing ropes of his seed shoot out and coat your chest. It’s like glazing a cake the way it drips thickly over your nipples and coats your tummy.

You jerk him off through his orgasm, moaning as his cream spews all over you. You love that fucked out expression on his face, the sight of his eyes rolling to the back of his skull and seeing the whole universe there, those little whimpers and grunts clawing out of his throat.

He spills so much cum on you, it drips down to your gushing pussy. You moan in pure ecstasy as his cum coats your folds. One hand comes down to your cunt and you rub his seed in between your lips, bucking your hips against your hand from how good it feels to be covered in your mate’s cum.

At last, you stand back up. Denki’s eyes are on you as he watches you rub his cream into your skin and lick it from your fingers.

He grabs your wrists with a lazy smile on his face and says, “You’re such a freak, mama. Had no idea.” You giggle and bite your lip as you nod. He takes your cum-soaked finger into his mouth, moaning as he tastes himself all over you. You moan as he sucks hard before pulling back.

He sighs, “Looks like we need a second shower.”

taglist - @qyuin @nervoussangel @xxdiaqiaoxx @misscaller06 @kksmush @cielito--lindo @kennygou @tnywabbit @ita606 @sweet-apple-acres

#i was in a mood when i wrote this and it shows #★’s works #bnha omegaverse #fem!reader #denki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #sero x reader #kirishima x y/n #sub!denki #mha x reader #denki kaminari

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