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a11eya · 6 months ago

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TITLE: do you still think about me?

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Okay, so you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Bakugou when you were both in high school. He was kind of your first love, if you believe in those kinds of things. But you got over it. It's fine.

You see Bakugou sometimes at hangouts, at get-togethers. He's in your orbit, or you're in his, because of your mutual friends. You're all adults now, so it's fine. It's a little weird, but fine.

You're supposed to be on vacation, at a place that's hours away from Musutafu. You're not sure what you've done to deserve it, but Bakugou's here too. And instead of both of you pretending the other doesn't exist, as usual, he's talking to you. He's everywhere. It's fine.

(It's not fine.)

TAGS: pro hero Bakugou Katsuki, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, soft Bakugou Katsuki, fluff, mutual pining, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, reader with afab body parts, reader with hair that can be pushed away from face when damp

STATUS: Completed; 3 of 3

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

NOTE: Minors, DNI! This chapter contains smut.

“Watch it,” Bakugou snaps.

His hand shoots out to grab your upper arm as you stumble over a hidden tree root, too engrossed in the pictures you’re taking with your phone to notice what’s underfoot.

“Pay attention,” he growls as he steadies you. His hand is warm where it’s wrapped around you.

Heart thumping in your chest, you slip your phone into your pocket, feeling duly admonished.

“Sorry,” you say, looking up at him. “And thank you. Your reflexes are amazing.”

Bakugou scowls at you. “Be more careful or I’m taking you back down.”

“You and what army?” You stick your tongue out at him.

Some expression you can’t quite read flickers across his face, and he narrows his eyes at you.

Your momentary courage deserts you. You squeak and pull yourself free from his grasp, making your way hurriedly up the marked path while trying to balance caution and speed so you don’t trip and fall on your face.

Behind you, you hear a sharp bark of laughter. You can’t help but look back.

Bakugou’s gaze immediately catches yours. There are traces of laughter still in his face—in his eyes, on his lips.

It’s not the first time you’ve heard him laugh, of course. Kaminari’s hilarious, and when he, Kirishima, and Hanta get going at parties, everyone’s laughing. (Even if Bakugou sometimes laughs at them more than with them.) And that’s not even taking into account how much of a menace Bakugou is when Todoroki’s around to tease.

But it’s the first time you’ve made him laugh. You want to keep making him laugh, you realize. You really like him, and it’s such a problem. All that time spent trying to keep your distance, get over him? Undone within a few days.

As Bakugou’s long strides quickly eat up the distance between you, you try to compose yourself, hoping none of your thoughts are visible in your expression. It’s fine.

He puts a hand on your back, nudging you forward.

“C’mon,” he tells you. “If you wanna make it back in time for dinner, save the pictures and the attitude for the top.”

Much of the trail takes you through a forest filled with cedar and birch trees with a steady incline upwards. Wooden stairs and handholds appear a couple times, as this hiking trail is well-traveled. You pass some people in pairs or families on your way up, but not often.

When you hike—and yes, you usually do take a friend or two, Bakugou—you prefer not to talk much. A lot of the time it’s because your lungs can’t multitask; the physical exertion of breathing is more than enough. But it’s also because you hate to cut through the sound of nature with your voice. You love the birdsong, the wind rustling the trees, the faint hum of insects.

Bakugou is quiet too, for the most part. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, with check-ins and directives.

“You out of water? Here.” You find out he has water, a first aid kit, snacks, and who knows what else in the backpack he’s brought along.

“Gimme your hands. Rocks’re slippery here.” He’s all easy strength, a warm grip. Your hands in his.

“Let’s stop here for a minute.” He’s not tired at all, but you are as things get steeper, and you don’t even need to say anything for him to pause for a break.

Bakugou’s a good hiking partner. He’s better than Rie, who refuses to do anything with an incline and complains the whole way anyway, or Hanta, who chats your ear off the entire time and outpaces you with his long legs and hero stamina.

Maybe when the two of you get back to Musutafu, Bakugou’d be willing to go on another hike with you. A friendly hike. You’ve never done anything one-on-one with him before this weekend, and since you’re slowly coming to accept that maybe you’ll have feelings for him forever, it’ll be fine.

You reach the peak around noon.

“Bakugou,” you say, staring out into the distance. You glance away briefly to put your hand on his forearm, shaking it slightly in excitement.

Bakugou huffs, stepping closer to you.

“Look,” you tell him, and his eyes meet yours. You know it’s because of a few clumsy moments you had getting up here that he’s keeping within arms length of you at all times, but—he’s so close. And he acts like he has no idea what he looks like, sunlight limning his blond hair and turning his eyes clear crimson.

You look away, back out. You don’t want to make things weird when—when you’re friends, now, right? The time you’ve spent together this weekend, just the two of you… you’ve got to be friends at this point.

You push your thoughts aside and try to recenter yourself, focus on what’s in front of you.

Trees grow everywhere you look in deep shades of green and umber. The nearby lake shimmers, placid. In the distance are mountains, making their mark against the horizon.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” you say. You turn your head to look at Bakugou again, smiling, only to find that he’s still looking at you. Your hand’s still on his arm.

A little flustered, you let go of him. In a voice softer than you intend, you tell him, “I’m having a great time. Thanks for coming with me.”

He looks at you for a long moment.

“Good,” he says.

Soaking in the open-air bath does wonders for your body.

It’s a little too early for muscle aches and soreness, but you can already feel how fatigued certain parts of your body are—your feet, your calves. The hot water is like a balm as you submerge yourself to your chin.

The public onsen is nice, but crowded. You visited yesterday, after the morning market, and enjoyed it. But it’s a different experience, here in your room’s private outdoor bath. It’s like you’re the only one in the whole world. You needed this time and space to yourself after returning from the hike with Bakugou. When you’re with him, it feels like all your senses are dialed to 110% and the only thing you can think of is him. In the hours since the hike, you took a nap and then checked in with your friends.

Sero finally got back to you late last night, letting you know that he’d met Rie halfway and traveled back with her to Musutafu. Rie messaged you a picture she’d taken of herself, looking haggard and depleted, with her client barely visible in the background looking stunningly gorgeous. Rie’s always been super talented at turning people into works of art.

They both asked how you’re doing. In your group chat with them, you sent along pictures of the gifts you’d gotten them and the photos you took on your hike. The views you captured look unreal, like CGI, they’re so pretty.

You even got Bakugou to take a few pictures—a couple of you, with a big grin, throwing up a peace sign, and even a selfie of the both of you. He’s not smiling, exactly, in it, but his neutral expression is handsome anyway. You weren’t sure he wanted it, but you sent the picture to him, just in case.

You did make the mistake of sending one of your solo pictures in your group chat with Rie and Sero because Rie immediately sent you several follow-up direct messages while Sero just sent a thumbs up.

Rie: Who took this????

Rie: Who were you with??

If you told the truth, you’d never hear the end of it. Instead of replying to her, guiltily, you left her messages unopened, to deal with later.

You drift, eyes closed. The daytime sounds of birds and cicadas have been replaced by the chirping of crickets as the sun sets, casting a dreamy orange glow over everything.

You’ve nearly dozed off when the sound of knocks on your door has you stirring.

Briefly, you entertain the urge to ignore it. It’s probably someone who’s got the wrong room, as you aren’t expecting anyone. You do plan on ordering the in-room dining menu but haven’t gotten around to requesting it yet.

But the knocks come again, and then your phone pings.

Sighing, you stand, water sloshing and streaming off your body. You grab a towel and briskly rub yourself down so you aren’t dripping water everywhere, and then you shrug on the onsen-provided robe.

As you pad over to the front door, you grab your phone and glance at the screen.

The message preview says—

Bakugou: You in your room?

Blinking, you jerk your head up to stare at the door. It’s quiet now.

Hurrying over, you open it. No one’s there.

You stick your head out and look both ways. To your left, you see Bakugou’s retreating back.

“Bakugou,” you call. “Come back!”

He stops, turns. His eyes land on you, and he scowls.

You resist the urge to jerk back. What’s his deal? You were in the bath; you answered the door as fast as you could.

You make a face at him.

With long strides, Bakugou’s back at your door. He steps close, almost crowding you.

“Get back in there, you aren’t even dressed,” he says. His eyes drop down to your shoulder, then quickly dart back to your face.

Your robe had loosened, one side sliding down your shoulder a little when you’d leaned out to look for him. You feel your face begin to warm as suddenly, you’re hyper aware you’re not wearing anything under this robe and he’s just a step or two away.

You fix your robe.

“There isn’t even anyone around,” you say, stubborn, just to get your mind off of the path it’s taking. He’s clearly freshly showered, hair damp, and you’re reminded of your first night here in the bamboo garden, him, under the moonlight.

Stop.

As if to prove you wrong, you begin to hear the faintest sound of voices echoing from down the hall. Bakugou looks at you as if to say I told you so.

You step back. “Come in.”

Closing the door behind him, you cross your arms over your chest, trying not to feel self-conscious.

“What brought you over here, anyway?” you ask.

“Was gonna ask if you wanna eat with me for dinner,” Bakugou says. He avoids looking at you, glances around your room, and you’re glad that you’re generally a pretty tidy person. Glad that he’s not looking at you, but also a little disappointed, though you know it’s dumb. He’s not interested.

“I’d love to, but I feel like a limp noodle,” you say. “I doubt I’ll make it to the restaurant. And I might fall asleep over dinner. I was gonna order their in-room dining menu instead.”

You’re telling the truth. You feel like you’ve spent your time well on this vacation, but you’re tired.

But you don’t want to say no; you don’t want to turn him away. You’ve already spent so much time with him, but it’s like you can’t get enough.

“Do you wanna join me?” you ask.

Bakugou puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. But let’s eat in my room.”

You furrow your brows. “Why? We’re already here in mine.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Go get dressed.”

You stare at him, bewildered. What logical explanation could there be for him to want to dine in his room instead? Maybe his room’s nicer than yours? But he’s never struck you as the kind of guy to care about stuff like that. Maybe he forgot something in there? But that’s silly, he presumably just came from there. The in-room dining menu costs the same across the rooms, so it can’t be that…

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him. “Wait. Is it because you want to charge the meal to your room?”

His silence is telling. He looks at you, unwavering, as if maintaining eye contact will make you back down. But you’re unintimidated.

“I know your tricks now, Bakugou,” you tell him, smug. “You can’t fool me. We’re eating here, and I’m paying for it as thanks for the hike today. Go sit on the couch, feel free to turn on the TV. I’ll be right back.”

You turn before he can say anything, grabbing some clothes from the dresser and walking into the bathroom to change. Faintly, you hear the sound of the TV being turned on.

Your small victory has you re-energized. You change, buoyed with it. You do wonder about this newly discovered quirk of Bakugou’s—paying for things unnecessarily. You do recall he’s never been stingy, covering rounds of drinks at get-togethers, spotting your mutual friends’ meals on birthdays.

It doesn’t come across as—I have more money than you do, so I’m flaunting it, even though you’re aware that he does make more than most of your friend group because of his higher hero ranking and the fact he owns his own agency. It feels more so like his way of showing his friends he cares; it’s warming that it’s something he’s trying to do with you.

It’s juvenile, this need to be reassured, but you wish you could ask him if he thinks of you as a friend.

When you leave the bathroom, you find Bakugou sitting on the couch, flipping through the provided menu. He looks up as you approach and sit a cushion away from him.

“You like fruit?” Bakugou asks.

“…Yes?” you say, blinking. “That’s so random.”

He tilts his head toward the other end of the couch where the gifts you’d bought at the market sit. Sero’s bag of fruits is open, peeking through.

“Oh! Those are for Hanta. You know he likes citrus fruit, right? You got him those oranges a couple weeks back.”

Bakugou raises a brow. “He tell you about that?”

“Yeah! He was talking about them non-stop for a couple days. Couldn’t get him to shut up. It was really sweet of you—I think those oranges are his favorite variety.”

Bakugou’s expression is hard to make out, but you think maybe he’s pleased. He’s a really great friend, you think.

“Let’s order,” he says.

You order to your heart’s content, feeling justified since you’d only eaten an onigiri and some snacks Bakugou’s brought for lunch, at the peak. While you wait, a hero special on All Might begins playing on the TV, and the both of you are unable to resist being drawn into it. He was the hero of your childhoods, after all, the biggest star.

“What’s he like, anyway?” you ask Bakugou. When he looks at you askew, you make a face at him.

“I only ever saw him at events or peripherally, teaching the hero course,” you say defensively. “You probably don’t remember, but I was in the management course.”

“I remember,” he says. You resist the urge to grimace. You wish he didn’t; you’ve been getting along so well that you lulled yourself into forgetting about your cringy past.

“...He’s annoying,” Bakugou says after a moment, interlocking his fingers and staring down at them. “Old man doesn’t know when to quit. Still at that damn school.”

“Still teaching?” you ask. “That’s nice.”

“Should retire,” Bakugou mutters. “He’s done enough.”

“He’s done more than enough, I think,” you say. “But you heroes always give so much of yourselves, going where you’re needed. It’s one of the best things about you.”

Bakugou looks up at you, tilts his head.

After a moment, you realize.

“About you, as in heroes in general!” you say hastily. You’re a liar. You were thinking about him, not All Might, not all heroes.

A couple knocks at the door save you, and when you move to get up, Bakugou motions for you to stay.

“I’ll get it,” he says. You sit there, beating yourself up over your slip-up, as Bakugou speaks to the people at the door. You greet them when they come in, watching out of the way as they quickly set the table and arrange the dishes you’d ordered.

You hardly notice as they leave as quickly as they came, so dazzled by the food on display.

Bakugou touches your back, and you startle. You look at him.

“Come sit,” he tells you.

“Okay,” you say.

The food is delicious, but the company’s even better.

You find yourself talking about all kinds of things with him.

“Do you go hiking often?” you ask. “You looked pretty comfortable out there.”

“I like outdoorsy shit,” Bakugou says. “Hiking’s fine. I like mountain climbing best.”

“Mountain climbing?” You tilt your head. “That’s pretty intense. It suits you! I have a friend who’s into bouldering and is trying to get me into it. I feel like that might be more my speed.”

“You scared of heights?”

“I’m scared of falling!” You laugh. “But with your quirk, I guess you don’t have that worry.”

“If you want to try bouldering, tell me,” he says. He brings his cup of tea to his lips, takes a sip.

You blink at him. “Do you know how?”

“Started with it a couple years back and moved on to climbing. Being outside’s better,” Bakugou says.

“Okay! I’ll take you up on it,” you say, trying to hide the little thrill that runs through you at the thought that he wants to spend time with you, even when the both of you return home.

You reach for the teapot to refill his cup, and your hand brushes against his, resting on the table. He doesn’t pull away. His eyes lift to meet yours, deep carmine in the low light.

Before you know it, it’s true night. It’s not so late according to the time, but it feels like it is because the both of you were up early and had a physically taxing day.

Mid-sentence, you cover your mouth as you yawn, little pinpricks of tears springing to your eyes.

“Sorry,” you say, just as you catch Bakugou hiding a reciprocal yawn. It’s cute. You don’t think he’d appreciate you saying so, so you hide your smile.

“You wanna sleep here?” you ask. “I’m sleeping in the bed nearest the windows. The one next to the wall was Rie’s, but they changed the sheets and everything yesterday. It hasn’t been touched since.”

Bakugou looks at you for a moment. “You good with that?”

“If you are,” you tell him. “And if you’re okay with using the complimentary toothbrush they give out.”

He snorts. “Thanks.”

Getting ready for bed at the same time as him feeds into thoughts you refuse to acknowledge. He tells you to get ready first as he takes care of cleaning up the food and dishes to be taken away by the staff. You try to help, but he gives you this stubborn look you’re too tired to fight. You thank him instead and retreat into the bathroom.

It’s only when you’re both in bed, the lights out, that those thoughts return, make themselves manifest.

The awkwardness you used to feel around him, the self-consciousness about your history, the pressure to keep him at a distance—it’s all faded so much into the background. Instead, your body hums with nerves, with a different kind of awareness.

He looked at you a lot, today. Whenever you looked at him, he was already looking back. He made himself known with little touches here and there: on your back, your arms, your hands. You thought you’d imagined it yesterday, this morning, but—no.

You’ve had partners before, both short and long term. That dance in the beginning, that will we, won’t we—you think you’re not imagining it here, with him.

“Goodnight Bakugou,” you say quietly, in case he’s already asleep. You don’t trust yourself to look at him to check. Seeing him across sheets, soft and undone… you don’t trust yourself to look at him and keep these bubbling feelings inside.

“Night,” Bakugou says.

When you wake, the sun isn’t even up.

The room is dark, though it’s in hazy shadows that speak of a coming dawn.

Blinking sleep away, you rub at your face and turn onto your side to reach for your phone.

You freeze mid-motion.

You’d forgotten Bakugou, sleeping in the other bed, still deep asleep. His face is restful, uncreased by a frown, though you can’t make out much more in the gloom.

You look at him for a long moment.

Quietly, you grab your phone off the bedside table and get out of bed, heading into the bathroom. You wash your face and brush your teeth before undressing and donning an onsen robe. You pad over to the sliding glass door leading out to the deck and open-air bath and step out.

A simple shower sits in the corner of the deck, intended for rinsing off before bathing. You stand under the spray, scrubbing yourself down.

You want to use the open-air bath one more time before checking out. You want some time to yourself before you have to face the morning. Soaking in the steamy water, watching the sunrise—it’ll be a nice ending to this vacation.

Suitably clean, you slip out of the robe, hanging it on a hook on the wall, before sliding into the bath.

It’s so hot it makes you hiss as you sink down, the steam visibly wafting in the air. The seats within the bath are at a perfect height for you to sit sideways in one of the corners, arms folded across the ledge. You rest your head on them.

The sky’s begun to change to a blue, with pink and orange streaking the horizon. You stare out into the distance, blinking slowly.

You don’t regret spending so much time with Bakugou this weekend. You had a lot of fun, and when the alternative would’ve been a rather lonely couple of days, you’re grateful. You’re happy that you’ve grown closer, when it seemed an impossibility a couple days ago.

Knowing him as you do now—you like him so much. You like what you’ve learned about him, up close.

You feel guilty keeping your feelings from him; you want to tell him, but you’re not sure. You're teetering on the edge—are you reading too deeply into his words, his actions? Does he return your feelings? Or is his interest fleeting, just because of circumstance, likely to fade once you leave this ryokan behind? You don’t know.

The sound of the sliding door opening jostles you from your thoughts.

You turn just your head, keeping your front pressed against the side of the bath.

Bakugou stands there, looking rumpled but forcibly alert. Like a tiger, just woken up from sleep, not sure what’d woken it up. Little water marks stain the front of his shirt, and the edges of his hair are damp, as if he’d washed his face.

You stifle the urge to smile.

“Good morning,” you say softly.

He grunts out what could be a greeting back.

“Did I wake you up?” you ask. “I’m sorry if I did.”

“Y’didn’t,” he says. “I usually get up early.”

Bakugou looks out over the pond, out at the trees on the far side, before looking at you.

“S’early for a bath,” he says.

“Wanted to use it one last time while watching the sun rise.” You push your hair away from your face, where it’d begun to cling because of the steam. His gaze tracks your movement, the sluicing of water down your forearm. The bare line of your back.

His eyes snap back up to yours, but it’s too late. You caught it.

You watch him for a long moment. Take a deep breath.

“Wanna join me?”

He studies you. The longer the silence stretches, the more your nerves fray.

You swallow, open your mouth to take it back. Maybe you’d imagined the look in his eyes.

“You sure?” he asks. His voice is raspy with the remnants of sleep, deep with something else. His words are heavy with things unspoken, and you shiver despite the warmth of the water.

“Yeah,” you say.

He turns to the shower you’d just used, and you look away as he grips the back of his shirt, pulls it over his head, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin. The broad breadth of his shoulders, the hard lines of muscle leading to his waist. Old scars, telling of the fights he’s survived, the fights he’s won.

You whip your head forward, looking away, feeling impossibly warmer than you already are in this bath, steam rising around you.

There’s the sound of clothes hitting the deck and the water turning on.

You keep your eyes on the horizon, the peek of the sun over that line, even as you hear the shower shut off and his footsteps approach, even as the water level rises as he climbs in.

Heart thumping fast against your chest, body tense with anticipation, it takes all your will not to startle when his hand touches your bare back. You shift to face him, and he’s close, so close. Like yesterday, and the day before, but today maybe he’s finally within your reach.

“This what you wanted?” His hand slides down your skin, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. You reach a hand up to his face.

He stops you, grip encircling your wrist—a familiar motion.

“Y’gotta say it,” Bakugou tells you. His eyes are molten red with the sunrise, heated. Your breath catches.

“Yes, yes, wanted this,” you say, trying to move closer, and he huffs out a laugh, the glimmer of a satisfied smile on his lips.

You look up at him, soft, putty in his hands. He’s so handsome like this.

Unable to resist, you lean up to kiss his cheek.

He turns his head as you retreat and kisses you.

Your eyes flutter shut as your head tilts to press against his lips better. He’s warm. You only realize he’s let go of your wrist because your hands come up to brace against his chest, unfettered. His hand on your back grips your waist, and his free hand comes to rest on the other side. They’re searing against your skin.

When he touches his tongue against your lips, a request, you open up for him, a door thrown all the way open. He kisses you deep, plundering, tongue sliding against yours slowly, sensually. The sound your mouths make when you part for air is filthy.

You want to be closer, ever closer. When your chest touches his, nipples hard against his skin, he makes a rough noise against you that has you humming in pleasure.

Fuck it, you think, and you shift so that you’re straddling his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, skin to skin now.

He’s half hard from just a few kisses, pressed against your lower belly. There’s an answering pulse in your sex that has you arching against him, craving friction. His hands slide to your ass, fingers dimpling into your skin, pulling you to him.

His mouth travels down your neck, biting gently here and there, sucking. His hand cups up to cup your chest, thumbs across your nipple. You gasp.

He kisses you again, drinking you in like he can’t get enough. You’re dizzy with want.

When you pull back for air, he’s breathing hard, and so are you. His eyes are hazy with arousal. You feel like you’ve been taken apart.

“We movin’ too fast?” he asks.

You blink at him, mind fuzzy, slow to process. “Hm?”

Bakugou lifts a hand, cups the nape of your neck. His thumb glides against your skin, distracting. All you want is for him to keep kissing you.

“Said we needa slow down.”

“No,” you say immediately, and he snorts, lips curving.

He disentangles himself from you, and the sudden space between you leaves you feeling bereft, adrift.

He stands, completely unselfconscious despite his nudity and visible arousal, and steps out of the water. You watch as he walks over to where you’ve hung your robe and returns to the edge of the bath. He holds the robe open.

“Let’s go inside,” he says. “You've been in there too long.”

Leaving the bath feels a little like Bakugou’s broken a spell that’d fallen over the two of you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen next, and it makes you a little anxious.

But he’s right. You’ve been in here too long, and you’re a little lightheaded from the heat.

With a quiet thanks, you step into the robe, the cloth immediately clinging to your damp skin. As you tie it closed, he rubs his lower half down with his discarded shirt and picks up the pants he wore to sleep, puts them on. Then he opens the sliding door, nudges you inside. He heads to the kitchen area.

You stand there for a second, unsure of what to do with yourself. You wish you knew what he’s thinking.

“Hey, c’mere. Drink this.” Bakugou returns with a water bottle in his hand. He gives it to you, then corrals you towards one of the beds. “Sit down, you’re swaying like you’re a damn penguin.”

This startles a laugh out of you, and you shake your head, twisting the water bottle open and taking a drink. Bakugou sits next to you, close, legs pressing against each other. He’s still shirtless, a couple drops of water still dripping down his torso here and there.

You like him so much. You inhale.

“I’ve liked you since we were teenagers, though I don’t think you noticed,” you say, avoiding his eyes. Your heart is racing. “I don’t think we’re moving too fast if you don’t.”

Bakugou snorts. “I noticed.”

You turn your head sharply to stare at him for a moment. He gives you one of his mean little grins that has you feeling warm, self-conscious, because it makes him so boyishly handsome.

Groaning, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you just… find someone with a memory quirk and erase all your memories of me back then? Thanks. It was a super embarrassing time of my life.”

Bakugou takes your wrists in his hands, pushing them down so he can see you unhindered. He leans forward and kisses the side of your head, your ear.

“You saying it was embarrassing, liking me?” he rumbles against you. You shiver.

“The way I went about liking you was,” you mutter. He snickers, and you shove him.

After a halting moment, you ask, “Umm… So I thought you barely knew I existed, before this weekend. What…?”

You’re not sure how to finish your sentence. And you hate yourself a little for bringing this up, for potentially killing the mood. But you have to know if this is just a casual thing or—or something else. You don’t know what you’ll do with the answer, but. You want to know.

He looks at you for a long moment, considering.

“Only thing I cared about while I was at UA was being the best,” he says, at last. “After the war—I knew I needed to be stronger, to be strong enough. So much shit needed to change. Didn’t have much use for dating.”

“Right,” you say quietly. The years after the war were hard for Japan. So many systems were dismantled and built anew. Some older heroes lost their faith in what they did; the younger ones struggled with the trauma of what they’d lived through. Everyone, hero or not, had to rebuild their lives.

You understand. And Bakugou’s always been so driven and focused with anything he puts his mind to. He’s been instrumental in shaping what this new generation of heroes looks like.

Bakugou reaches over, puts a hand on your thigh. Even over the cloth of the robe, his warmth reaches your skin. He doesn’t do anything more, just rests it there. Distracting. Sending goosebumps across your body.

“You were always around, these past couple of years. Hangin’ around Soy Sauce Face and his girl. But you were always fucking running away. What the hell was up with that?”

Bakugou scowls at you, squeezing your leg a little, and your mind scatters. It takes a moment to gather yourself and process what he’s asked. When you do, you frown.

“What do you mean, I was always running away?”

“You tell me,” Bakugou growls.

When you continue to look mystified, Bakugou’s scowl deepens.

“Whenever I tried to talk to you, you’d scurry away, like a little mouse,” he says. “Didn’t even get to say shit before you’d be gone, hiding behind Tape Head or his girl.”

As he talks, puzzle pieces begin to fit together in your head.

When you’d see him at get-togethers, you’d always worried about how you’d come across to him—that he’d be able to tell your crush on him had endured, that it’d become more. So maybe you overcompensated a little. You tried to play it cool, super disinterested in prolonged engagement, and when you could… maybe you did avoid him a little.

You didn’t realize he’d notice, let alone be bothered by it.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

He narrows his eyes at you. “S’only here that I’ve been able to really talk to you. No Soy Sauce Face. No Soy Sauce girlfriend.”

“Sorry,” you tell him, meek. “I… I’m gonna die, this is so embarrassing.”

You look up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “I was trying to keep my distance because this dumb crush on you never went away. And you were obviously not interested, so I wanted to be respectful. Sorry I made things weird instead.”

Realization hits you, and you turn your head to him. “Wait, so—you are… interested…?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “You think I was going to all these dumb hangouts this past year just because I wanted to be there?”

Oh. Oh.

You’re not sure what he sees in your face, but he barks out a laugh. He reaches over and takes your face in his hand, squeezes so that your lips and cheeks puff out.

“For someone so smart, you can be a dumbass, huh,” he says, and his tone is so warm that you don’t even mind.

You wriggle out of his grip. He lets you, watching you. Your hand drops to your robe’s tie. You undo it. It loosens on your frame.

You take one of his hands and slip it under the robe, sliding his hand across your skin. The motion bares you to his eyes as the robe falls open.

“Not moving too fast,” you tell him, and his gaze is so heated, you feel like you’re burning up.

Bakugou leans forward and kisses you hard. You open up for him immediately, letting his tongue dart in and tangle with yours. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you press closer. He shifts so that his body covers yours, and he slowly tilts you back so that you’re lying across the bed.

You love the feeling of his weight on you. You arch up to put pressure against his cock, steadily hardening, and he grunts against your mouth, grinding down onto you in an instinctive motion.

When you part for breath, he mouths at your neck, biting gently. You squirm, can only clutch at his back.

“Bakugou,” you say, and his name’s half air.

“S’Katsuki,” he tells you as his lips travel down your body. He takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks. His hand comes up to tease the other one, squeezing, groping your chest. Your legs tighten around his waist, grinding against his bare abdomen, seeking friction to soothe the heat in your sex.

Bakugou pins you, stopping any motion. He lifts himself up a little, and you whine.

His gaze drops to your lips, kiss-swollen. His eyes warm, go half-lidded. “Y’hear me? Say it.”

“Hmm?” You’re so far gone, turned on out of your mind. You just want him inside of you.

You try to press against him, but he pins you with hands on your hips.

“It’s Katsuki to you,” he says, and you shiver. You put your hands on either side of his face.

“Katsuki, please,” you say, and you only get a glimpse of his curved lips before they’re on yours again, swallowing you up.

He gets you fully out of the robe, tosses it aside somewhere. When you wordlessly push at his pants, he takes those off too.

Skin to skin friction has the both of you so worked up. He’s so hard against you. You want to touch him, so you do, hand wrapping around him and stroking the silky skin.

He groans, and you’re on fire.

But Bakugou grips your wrist, stops your caress. He repositions your arms so that your hands are up by your head.

“You keep them there,” he tells you as he moves down your body, and before you can ask why, his fingers are grazing over your clit, thumbing at it.

You arch, gasping, and he teases his fingers over your slit, feels how wet you are. He massages slow circles into your clit, and you’re clenching inside, wanting.

“Please,” you say, throwing an arm over your face, overwhelmed. Bakugou huffs a laugh against your abdomen, pressing a kiss there. He pushes a finger inside you, stretching you. He’s gentle, going slow and paying close attention to your reactions to see if anything hurts.

But he’s going too slow—it’s not enough.

“More,” you tell him. “It’s okay, more.”

So he adds another finger, and your pussy flutters around him as he begins to loosen you up, pumping them in and out, curling them when they’re inside you. You’re so slick that your sex makes a filthy wet sound as he plays with you.

“Fuck,” you say, mind splitting apart. You kiss him, messy, and he just feels so good. It’s such a pleasurable stretch when he adds a third finger.

When he takes all of his fingers out, your body chases him, arching. You’re so close.

“Katsuki,” you begin, just as he puts his mouth on your clit and sucks.

Your entire body shudders, and he licks up and down your slit, tongue dipping inside you. Your hips begin to undulate as you begin to peak, your hands gripping the sheets on either side of you.

You come as his tongue flicks at your clit, gasping your pleasure.

He wraps a big hand around your waist as you ride it out, mouthing at your inner thighs.

You’re breathing hard, little shivers going through you in tiny aftershocks. Bakugou comes back up the bed, wrapping his arms around you. You immediately turn your head for a kiss, tasting yourself on him.

His cock’s still so hard, pressed against your leg, your ass. You’re not done yet. You want to make him feel good.

You reach down and take him in hand. It’s so big with how turned on he is, just from giving you pleasure, and it twitches in your grasp. His hips jerk, searching for relief.

“Want you inside,” you tell him, and his eyes are searing.

You shift so that you’re on top of him, pussy pressed against the line of his dick. He’s throbbing against you, and it’s a little mean, but you grind your hips down on him, moving so that he slides up and down your slit. The tip of his cock slips over your entrance over and over again, pushing in a little but not quite.

Bakugou grips your waist with two hands to halt you. You bite your lip to hide a smile.

“Brat,” he growls, dangerous.

In answer, you take him in your hand and position the tip of his dick right at your entrance and slowly sink down.

His eyes drop to watch his cock enter you, inch by inch, and his grip on you is nearly bruising, fingers indenting your skin. You’re still sensitive, clenching around him, but you’re taking him so easy because you’re still wet from your orgasm.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Bakugou says, and he says it so low, guttural, that you tighten around him. The look on his face is working you up; it’s an intoxicating expression of desire.

You begin moving, lifting up and down on his cock. His eyes are cloudy with want as he watches you on top of him, you with your tits bouncing. He reaches up to cup your breast. Leaning forward, you kiss him, and his answer is hungry as your pace quickens. You pant into his mouth.

But you think maybe you’re not going fast enough for him. He’s careful with you, but looking down at him, you can tell he’s holding back.

So you stop, lift up off of him, let him slip out of you.

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, and his next movements are so fast.

Bakugou lifts you up off of him and presses you back into the bed. He takes your legs, spreads them so they’re straddling his hips, and he’s back inside of you with a hard thrust. Gripping your waist, he chases his pleasure, slamming his cock in you over and over again.

The sudden intense friction against your walls has you climbing that peak again, and you clutch at his back. As if sensing it, he slips a hand down between the two of you to massage circles into your clit. He catches your moan in his mouth.

“Katsuki,” you say, just as you begin convulsing around him, feverish, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, you’re so—” he growls as you continue to tense up around him, fluttering, and then he’s following you over. You can feel his warmth as he comes in you, his big body coming to rest against yours. He kisses the side of your head, your forehead, your mouth. You smile against him.

Sleep comes for the both of you, for a while. You’re not sure if it’s been minutes or hours when you come to, but when you do, soft morning light floods the room.

You jolt up in a panic. Looking around, you search for your phone. You move to get out of bed when you don’t immediately find it.

“Where the hell’re you going,” Bakugou grumbles. He throws an arm over your waist and mouths at your hip.

“We gotta get packing, Katsuki,” you say, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Or at least I do! I’m checking out this morning.”

“Stay another day,” he says, voice a little growly and his eyes closed, and you stop. “I know you’ve got a shit ton of leave saved up.”

“And how would you know that?” you ask. You put your hand on his head, thread it through his blond hair.

“Tape Head said you haven’t taken off in forever,” he says.

Bakugou opens his eyes, looks up at you. He presses a kiss against your skin. Bites you gently.

“Stay with me,” he tells you.

And what else can you say but yes?

Final Notes: And we're done! Thank you all of you for following this little labor of love to its conclusion. 💖 Bakugou's birthday fic's finally completed, over a month after the fact.

A couple things! Some of you caught on to the fact that Bakugou being at this onsen ryokan at the same time as reader was a little fishy—you were so right. Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari gifted Bakugou the reservation for his birthday, knowing that you would be there with Rie, knowing Bakugou's been interested in you for a while now. (Bakugou knew something was up immediately after he saw you at the ryokan.) Rie having to leave was purely coincidental, but it turned out to be a happy coincidence!

(I love you guys; the comments you left last chapter and the conversation you guys were having with each other made me laugh.)

The location for the hike is based off Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park, specifically the Mount Amagi hikes, with a lot of creative liberty taken.

I think the only Japanese used here was a mention of onigiri, which are rice balls with a seaweed wrapping with various fillings inside.

Once again, thank you for reading! All your likes, reblogs, comments—I appreciate them so much. Hugs and kisses, and until next time! ✨💞

Tag List: @blairbellerose @yeehawgiddyup13 @reads-stuff-quietly @surprisemodafakas @scarlett-witchh @queenpiranhadon @sleepyyhabii @j-pendragonx @bakunianadecorazon @dreamingoftomorrow @nonamebbsblog @gina239 @seabass17 @dynakats @I-bozo-I @humblechumbble @universal-s1ut @sweetblueworm @kukikoooo @liluvtojineteyam @nemisimp @bkgnotsuma @poemzcheng @farrowroyale @simp-plague @dreamingoftomorrow @mystic60 @k0z3me @buzzyandbadatmath @anicaaa67 @icedemon1314 @lovra974 @andyetshewrote @frostbez @mo0nforme @mrsjna @pinkpurpledreams

#last chapter!!!#once again happy belated birthday bakugooouuu 💖#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha #fic: dystam?#jess scribbles #also i tried to include everyone who requested to be on the tag list!! not sure if it even works tho...#cw: sex

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songwithnosoul · 3 months ago

Text

This is excellent.

Poor Yomiel. Even the fucking apocalypse isn't enough of a disruption of the social order for him to be able to build a new, ordinary-ish life for himself.

I like the description of his arrival, with his snazzy suit and shades translated to the time period but equally inappropriate cold-weather gear for a snowpocalypse, how completely unaffected his appearance is even down to small details like hairstyle. He's frozen in a different way--in time, not in ice. I also like the translation from systems engineer to Generator technician. That's perfect for ending up with the same sort of "works in sensitive government position->false accusation->stupid decisions->done got Temsik'd" backstory.

It also hurts how he almost managed it. He worked so hard to fit into society, providing an important service--although it admittedly is easier to be tireless when you literally can't tire, at least physically--and it almost paid off for him. Almost. That's perfectly in the Ghost Trick spirit, all of those painful "almost"s. He even tried to ignore Jowd and Cabanela and mind his own business, too. And they didn't try to ruin his life, even, they were just disturbed and careless and it snowballed from there. Yeah, that sounds about right.

I also like the focus on the process of his ordinary life falling apart even in spite of his best attempts to hold it together. The open suspicion just getting worse when he tries to be heroic and heals/resets in public, manipulating the doctor to hide the fact that he's a ghost and being brought before the Captain to defend himself. I like the look at all of the trying and failing to fit into society that broke him down to the point where (as far as he was concerned) all he had left was revenge.

(It's also a nice detail that even his defenders are defending him on the wrong points. It's just too much to hope for that they'll say they'd still like him even if he is a ghost criminal. Especially when he's "far from sociable".)

"and this ends up helping absolutely nobody" lol yep, exactly.

(Also, slightly beside the point, but that song you linked is great. I was listening to it on repeat earlier.)

Probably not gonna go anywhere with this but made the mistake of relistening to The City Must Survive from Frostpunk and now I’m vaguely batting the idea of a Grick Frostpunk AU around

Yomiel still gets struck with Temsik, ofc, the whole thought spawned from the idea that it’d be real handy to have an invulnerable superhuman around, but how does everybody else factor into things?

So far, my thought is that the rest of the main cast has survived the Great Frost and made it to a Generator settlement more or less intact. (Alma may or may not be dead, and it may or may not be Yomiel’s fault, haven’t decided. Fiansissel is definitely dead.) They’re all working their asses off in their new, miserable, frostbitten lives, y’know, standard Frostpunk fare.

Then the scouting teams return with a man in tow.

At first, this doesn’t seem strange to anyone. Of course the scouting team brought back a survivor, that’s one of their missions, alongside scavenging resources from the Frostlands. But the survivor… well, dressed like he is, he shouldn’t be alive. His snow-crusted clothes, a fine frock and trousers fit for a cool autumn’s day, should never have been enough to protect him from the bitter cold. His eyes are shielded only by dark inventor’s goggles, the metal components of which should have frozen to his face long ago, and his hands are bare and cold and yet dextrous and undarkened by frostbite. Barely a hair on his head lays out of place.

He’s put to work immediately, of course, all able hands are welcome, and to this he has no complaints. He proves a capable engineer and a meticulous scholar, tireless no matter how the Captain stretches their shifts longer and longer, and integrates well enough into the City, though those who know him will say he is far from sociable. He has a surprisingly keen knowledge of the workings of the Generator in particular, for how jealously that information was guarded in the time before. Questions to him about this knowledge go unanswered, but the Captain allows it to slide, just like the questions about how he survived the Frostlands so ill-equipped for so long.

Good things cannot last, of course.

Cabanela and Jowd only hear about the miracle survivor, at first, but their paths must cross eventually, and both of them would know that face anywhere, the one that haunts them, that last and most horrendous mistake of theirs before the frost set in, stepping out of the shadows of a sun-warmed past to haunt their frozen, ramshackle streets. Their eyes meet his, and to one another they say nothing, but later, over awful moonshine in the public house, Jowd and Cabanela say everything. A ghost from the past—a literal one, even, perhaps, cold dead flesh and cold dead spirit, born of the stars and the snow and come to reclaim the life lost to him, stolen from him. Man or monster? Peaceful, protective, or vengeful and biding his time? While the alcohol fades away, the theories remain—in their minds and the minds of the rumourmongers who overheard them.

It spreads quickly from there, and mutates like a cancer in the City’s veins.

Strangers avoid him. Busybodies in the street come up to interrogate him, how he really survived the Frostlands all that time on his own. Parents shuffle their children to the other sides of snow-slicked streets. The particularly religious cross themselves in his presence, not so subtly he doesn’t notice, not so subtly he doesn’t notice any of this shift in his treatment, in the public opinion.

Some of his coworkers, at least, stand with him, in their strange, scientific way. When he learns about the rumours, the older woman whose drawing table sits next to his scoffs. “Ghosts,” she spits, with unhidden disdain. “What hogwash.”

It’s less reassuring than it should have been.

The day he saves a child from being trampled by an automaton only fans the flames.

He pushes the kid aside as the shadow bears down and suddenly he’s on the ground hearing something snap somewhere behind him. People scream. An immense weight lifts from his body, he pushes himself up, and his pancaked leg is reforming, sliding itself neatly back into place as he turns around to look. He stands up and hurries off, before someone can call for a doctor.

Several days later he learns that the city watch had to break up a fistfight at church between the child’s father and a congregant who speculated to no other protest that Yomiel was the devil made flesh, fuelling the Generator with hellfire and the souls of the damned.

The unrest starts to cause such a fuss that even the Captain gets involved. A doctor comes to find Yomiel at work one day, requesting to give him a medical examination. “To assuage the people’s concerns,” the doctor had said, “to prove to them that you’re as human as the rest of us. The Captain wants to put an end to these foolish rumours before they can cause any more problems.”

He possesses the doctor and fills the examination sheet with numbers that seem plausible enough. The next day, he’s called in to the Captain’s office himself.

Yomiel answers the Captain’s questions with a mix of the truth and what he wishes were true. Sure, he may be abnormal, but he’s not dangerous, he’s not malicious. He’s just like the rest of them, trying to eke out an existence in this frozen wasteland, in this tiny pimple of warmth on the face of the snowball Earth. No, sir, he has neither means nor motive to hurt anyone. Yes, sir, he’ll work hard for the City, he already has been.

I’m tired and running out of steam to be all dramatic lol

Blah blah things get worse blah blah throw the witch into the Generator blah blah I kinda forgort about Cabanela and Jowd in all this beyond the rumours starting. Yomiel should make them suffer for starting the rumours I think and this ends up helping absolutely nobody. Where’s Sissel (cat) in all this? Where’s Lynne and Kamila? Hell if I know

#ghost trick #ghost trick spoilers #frostpunk #the man in red #the fandom writes #fic included #commentary

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