Bakugo Imagine - Blog Posts

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. in every other universe.

about. “in every other universe, gwen stacey falls for spiderman. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well.” - inspired by this bkg art @/kingkatsuki sent me and by self love.

warnings. none. fluff, slight angst, happy ending, across the spiderverse spoilers, spiderverse!bakugou & fem!reader.

once you know that you’re not the only one out there — it’s hard to go back to your regular life. not everyone can do the things that katsuki bakugou can do, you know, shoot webs, fight crime and save the day. it’s isolating. it’s lonely. he knows that he should feel blessed, it’s not every day that you’re given superhuman abilities and the power to change the world.

some days the truth about his identity, the words ‘i’m spiderman.’ sit eagerly on the tip of his tongue — desperate to be pushed out into open and heard by the people he loves. his mom, his dad, even his stupid roommate, kirishima. but if bakugou burdens them with the truth, then he puts them at risk too. losing his childhood friend deku had been more than enough, he couldn’t lose someone else too.

other days he remembers there are others just like him, dotted across the universe in their own connections and constellations — there’s his mentor, there’s his friends… there’s you.  it’s been a year since your world’s were once able to collide and bakugou has tried (and failed) to move on from you and devote himself to saving the day. your smile, your eyes, your drive, your bravery — he would be stupid to purposely forget all of that. 

he’s also a little weird for kicking back in his desk chair, mindlessly spinning around his dorm room (after patching himself up where katsuki had just gotten his ass kicked) thinking about the curve of your lips and how your voice sounds when you speak…

“hey katsuki! katsuki… wanna hangout?” 

in surprise, the blonde tips backwards in his seat, bakugou’s back hitting the floor with a harsh thud that causes pain to blossom somewhere along his shoulder blades. “what the fuck?” he grunts through a stream of colourful curses. he must be imagining things. crushing too hard on someone he’s not supposed to ever be able to see again. you can’t be here. it’s not physically possible. 

but through his searing pain and frustrated hisses, bakugou manages to crack a ruby red eye open — letting his gaze bare witness to the swirling, bright portal in his ceiling and the girl he’s still hung up over just peeking through. 

he really has to watch out for those punches to the head — he’s going insane.

“what the actual fuck?” 

amused laughter streams from between your lips, muffled slightly by the signature piece of a spider-person’s consume. you pull back the mask of your spider-suit which don the colours of your universe and grin. bright and beautiful. it makes bakugou’s heart squeeze in his chest. “dang, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” you tease, letting the web that holds you up sink further out of the portal until you’re hanging just above the foul-mouthed blonde. “good to see you too, hot shot.”

“what— how are y’even here?” bakugou sits up, fighting the twitches in his face and the real meaning to words on the tip of his tongue. i missed you. 

your face tells the story he longs too, your pretty eyes nostalgic and warm. you’ve missed him as well. “oh you know, just thought i’d swing by.” 

“that was fuckin’ terrible.”

“come on, katsuki, you liked it.” i like you. is what he really wants to say back.

he can practically feel your breathy laughter on his lips and taste your vanilla perfume. hanging upside down and in front of him is way too compromising of a position — he might kiss you if he’s not careful.

“fuckin’ dumbass.” bakugou puts a hand on your face and uses it to push you away before you can get any closer. you lose your balance, coming crashing down from the ceiling once your web snaps and the portal closes. he’s quick to crawl over to you, not evening thinking abound space now when there’s been entire universes and timelines between you up until this moment. “shit, you okay? forgot how clumsy you were.” 

he utters fondly, mostly under his breath — in a way that’s impossible to miss with how bakugou leans over you. his face full of bursting concern. you don’t dare to move, taking in said face. observing how much it’s changed since you were last on earth-420. how his eyes are harder, less youthful but still wild. how his lips look softer, fuller — you wonder what chapstick he’s been using. how his chin is stronger and his face more defined and his nose slightly shifted and—

“you’re no different than before, still a meanie.” you quip, voice wistful. quiet. “you grew out your hair.” reaching up, you brush your fingers over the soft tips of his ash blonde locks — closing your eyes at the feel of them, as if you’re basking in sunlight. 

“yeah.” bakugou hums. “yours is different too.” 

“you think? do you like it.” 

“‘f’course.” he keens into your touch as it cascades down to his cheeks. “you always look good.” 

“you haven’t seen me in a while.”  

“doesn’t mean i don’t think about you.” 

“ah…me too.” 

“y’think about me?” 

a beat of silence passes and you don’t speak for a while. you’re both afraid you might hear each other’s hearts racing. ever since i jumped back into that collider.” rolling out from underneath katsuki, you sit up with your back to him and fiddle with your spandex mask. “let’s go for a swing.” 

you’re up and throwing open his dorm window before bakugou can even register — leaving him to deal with his erratic pulse and pink kissed cheeks. it’s crazy how time apart made him only want you more. how he can’t have you because you’re not even meant to be here, even if there’s some kind of gravitational force from the universe pulling you together. when you don’t hear him coming after you, you turn to face him from the window ledge — he can see the longing even in the reflective lenses of your suit. 

“you coming?” 

bakugou’s entire body screams at him to say yes, every fibre of his being itching to be with you. but his one fatal flaw keeps him rooted in place on his knees. he can’t hurt you. can't tell you his feelings knowing he’ll never have a way of acting on them. 

“can’t, got homework.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “i’m a college kid now, remember?” 

he can already tell that you’re rolling your eyes from under the mask even when you shrug back — tipping yourself out of the window, knowing that he’ll chase you. bakugou watches you, half amused, half annoyed as you stand up straight and defy all laws of everything by sticking to the side of his dorm building. 

“does Spider-Man have homework?”

all he can do is shake his head at you. both in amusement and in disbelief.

talking to you eases all the tension katsuki bakugou’s shoulders bare. 

it’s easy to be with you because you understand what it’s like to be alone in protecting the people you love and the communities you care about. hiding your face and cowering away from friends and family in the real world — every day life. you get why wearing the mask is both a blessing and a curse. it cost you your mother’s love. it cost you your home. and now you surf through universes to find your place amongst the other spider people that exist… and yet, katsuki, as you confess — is the only one to bring you comfort. 

whilst swinging and soaring through the streets of katsuki’s city, you tell him all of the nitty gritty details. no one wants a vigilante for a daughter. he holds his tongue in telling you that he wants you instead. you giggle when you explain to him all the worlds you’ve seen and people you’ve met through being apart of this elite spider-team. and when bakugou asks how a pipsqueak like you managed to get in before he did — you cock your head to the side innocently and say…

“you’re an asshole, katsuki. we can’t have you clashing with the number one in charge.”

bakugou has to pull his mask up to breathe while he laughs — snorting so hard that he almost misses a stride while swinging through the sunset-stained streets with you. by the time golden hour sets it’s sights upon you both, he’s taken you to the highest point in musutafu to watch the sun disappear beyond the horizon. 

when the world gets him down — katsuki comes up here to think and clear his head of any doubts that might be holding him back. it’s peaceful up here, away from the crime cracking on below and the bustling mundane city traffic. often times, he thinks of you too…so sharing this spot with you by his side is extremely intimate to him.

you’re talking but bakugou will admit he’s not really listening, too entranced by the shapes your lips form around each word, at least until you say his name. “you’re the only one who’s ever, truly got me, katsuki.” you tell him, swinging your feet off the ledge of the building. if you fall, your instincts would catch you…but you know katsuki would be the first to save you. 

“could say the same thing about you.” he admits, the burnt orange spider crest on his chest heaving with bakugou’s nervous sigh. he pinches at the black latex suit covering his fingers — debating on inching his hand closer to yours.

if you notice, you don’t say anything about it. “in every other universe, spiderman gets the girl.” katsuki swallows as you speak, ruby eyes darting all over your pretty face outlined by warm tone natural lights — your masks long discarded. “and in every other universe…it doesn’t end well. for either of them.”

you don’t bother finishing your sentence, swallowing the lump in your throat along with the fate you might meet if you lean into your greed to be with katsuki. it’s only then that you notice his hand slipping away, retreating behind the wall he builds up around himself — to keep himself closed off and protected from getting hurt. 

“i wish i could change that.” he mumbles distantly, looking out at the world, the universe as if he’s been scorned. cursed by the mask once more. it’s like the stars have turned against him and are mocking him as they come out to play — reminding bakugou that everyone he’s ever loved will get hurt because of him…eventually. everyone including you. “prove ‘em wrong, yanno?” 

even still, he offers you his signature lazy smirk and twinkling mischievous red eyes and you can’t help but fall for him all over again. 

“yeah,” comes your soft reply. “maybe there’s a chance that things can work out.” 

“a first time for everythin’, yeah?”

this time, neither of you pull back as your head comes to rest on his shoulder. 

for a moment, the world stills. freezing time for the only two people in the universe may truly understand one another. 

freezing, for you and katsuki. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Bakugou’s first love who’s temper and passion matches, no, exceeds his, because you had to fight twice as hard to earn things he was given, had to fight twice as hard to get a seat at a table he was born to. His first love, who’s outcast by hero society for carrying too much anger, for being too rough, too much. 

For being Quirkless.

He never said it was love, but it was. He could feel it, knew you could too. Or at least, he hopes you could. 

So after you disappear, there’s not a single day that goes by where he doesn’t think of you, well into adulthood. Little things like the flowers in the florist shop window that are the exact color of your old car, the way the city glows after a rainstorm.

He thinks it would be easier to forget you, to not have to carry the weight around with him all the time, and he hates himself for thinking it at all. Hates that he feels burdened by your memory instead of thankful he could tell someone exactly where every mole and birthmark sat on your skin, the different colors in your eyes.

It’s that perfect memory that confirms his worst suspicion when history begins to repeat himself, a new group of villains unhappy with society rising from the ashes of the last.

You’re clearly different, but he knows you. Knows the way you move, the tilt to your voice when you’re hiding that you’re wounded.

It’s the first time that his heart is at war with his sense of duty, but he keeps quiet about his suspicion regardless, needing to confirm everything for himself before he spoke up.

It’s a thin line he’s walking, but he assures himself he won’t cross it, no matter what.

And yet, when he finally catches you, unmasked and pinned beneath him, bloody teeth bared, he finds himself lifting enough for you to escape. He wants desperately to give chase, to catch you again, but he knows it’s not so he can bring you in.

It’s that realization that wakes him up, makes him take extended leave so he can track you down. Except he doesn’t have to.

You show up at his apartment one night, covered in shadows near the open window as he comes in, absently listening to Kiri worry about him over the phone. It takes everything in him not to hang up on his friend immediately when he sees you, freezing in place.

He should be angry, should be insulted that you, a wanted villain, had the audacity to show up in his home and silently watch him, but he’s not.

Part of him believes he’s finally lost it, chasing ghosts, so he calls out your name quietly, more of a breath than real words, but he can see the way your body reacts to it immediately, and all he can feel is relief crash around him.

There’s a heavy silence for a while, and then he takes a step forward. You stiffen, and in a blink, you’re gone, the only sign you were real to begin with a note telling him to stay away.

But he doesn’t. And neither do you. He knows you follow him, can feel watchful eyes on him, even if he can’t see you right away.

And then you show up in his apartment once more, clearly ready for a fight in the middle of his kitchen. There’s a glint of a knife in your hand, and he’s careful to move slowly as he sets down his groceries, hands splayed to show you he’s unarmed, as if he couldn’t kill you with one flick of his wrist. He calls out your name again, softly, like he’s talking to a wounded animal, and you can’t help the way your heart begs you to respond, even after so many years.

You shift, hesitate, and he straightens, takes a chance, and takes a step towards you. Your hand twitches, but you don’t raise it, don’t charge him. So he takes another. And then another. And then he’s within striking range, and your eyes are hard, angry in warning, but wide, like you’re lost. 

So he steps closer. And you step back, knife falling from your hand and clattering to the floor. He presses forward until your back hits his kitchen island, and he’s leaning over you, knuckles white with the way they grip the marble. 

You look panicked, fear brewing in your gaze when he raises a hand, eyes squeezing shut so you don’t see the blow coming. 

Instead, he brushes your hair away from your face, and your eyes fly open in surprise, the large pro drinking you in, his eyes flicking over your form. 

“I thought you were dead,” 

His voice is softer than anything you’ve ever heard, rolling over you and bringing back memories long since repressed. He cups your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin as if to make sure you’re real, and you hate how good it feels, how much you’ve missed him, and then his gaze dips lower and he freezes. 

Now that’s he’s able to be close to you, breathe you in, he sees what he’s missed before, hidden under stealth suits and large hoodies. From beneath your top curl ragged scars, curving and licking up along your throat and across your shoulders, more abundant than unmarred skin.

Your breath hitches as his fingers leave your face to trace over the scars on your collarbone, his face filled with anguish. His searching takes him lower, to the collar of your shirt where he pulls away, shaky hands falling to the hem as he begins to lift it slowly. 

Your hands circle his wrist in warning, and he spares you a glance, his pretty eyes filled with silent pleas, and you give in to him, as powerless to him as you were when you were stupid kids believing you were in love. Your fingers fall away from his skin slowly to let him continue, heart hammering as you let the man you came to kill undress you. 

He hesitates, inhaling deeply, steeling himself for what he might see before he tugs the cotton upwards once more. 

His stomach twists in knots as you’re revealed to him, arching scars covering most of your torso, some clearly old, but far too many new, deep, and he can only imagine what you went through to earn such markings across your skin. 

He can hardly find those moles and beauty marks he used to be able to map perfectly, now replaced with thick and jagged lines. He looks tortured, struggling not to let it show, but you see it anyways.

You can’t help the noise that bubbles from your throat when you lift your arms for him, a fresh wound beneath your left breast pulling painfully tight with the movement, and he clenches his jaw at the sound of your whimper, brows drawn low over his eyes. 

When his palm lays flat against your stomach, measuring the expanse of your scars to his hand, the former reaching out far further, you squeeze your eyes shut and tilt your head back. 

You never wanted him to see you like this, and in that very moment, you wished you were dead like he’d assumed, rather than a broken shell of who he used to love. 

He’s silent as his hands wander, their warmth seeping into your skin and settling on your hips, fingers splayed wide. He lets out a shaky huff and you finally peel open your eyes as he drops to his knees, his breath warm over your skin, moments before his mouth presses over your flaws.

He doesn’t miss the way you inhale sharply, hazy eyes focused down at him kneeling at your feet, mouth ghosting across your body. 

He traces a path upwards, his hands keeping you grounded as you arch against him, goosebumps rising in the wake of his ministrations. He deviates from his path only once, to press a feather soft kiss against your newest wound, and you hiss, fingers flying to tangle in his hair. 

It shouldn’t hurt so much, but his mouth feels like a brand, his nose brushing along the underside of your breast, lighting a fire within you that you had assumed died long ago. He murmurs out something you don’t quite catch against your skin before he returns the drag of his mouth between your breasts, up until he’s pressing kisses against your jaw, his forehead bumping against your cheek as he shakes his head. 

He exhales shakily again, and you tilt your head ever so slightly, needing to see him, needing to see the disgust, the pity in his eyes. You need him to give you a reason to push him away, a reason to hate him so neither of you start something you can’t finish. 

But all you see is a quiet fury buried in those crimson eyes, smothered by a emotion you’ve only ever seen in those very eyes the last time you’d seen him. You’re not ready to admit what it is yet, denial flooding you even as your mind supplies the word. 

Love. 

It’s like all the air rushes from your lungs, and you’re sure in that very moment, if it wasn’t for his firm grip, that you’d simply crumple under the weight of your realization. 

He draws you back to him, nose bumping yours when one of his hands cups the back of your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair. He opens his mouth and immediately closes it again, breathing in sharply through his nose before he speaks again, eyes shutting. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” 

And just like that, you can’t resist his pull anymore, closing the distance as the first tear rolls down your cheek. 

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skill, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

sitting in your sweatshirt, crying in the backseat

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! (though i don't state pronouns) reader summary: katsuki realizes his feelings a little too late contains: mentions of sex, angst (with a maybe happy ending) word count: 2.8k words masterlist

Under the shadows of the coming morning—the sun rising through the blinds of the bedroom windows in your apartment—Katsuki liked to pretend that you were his. 

Just his. 

He tended to be up earlier than you anyways—with years of waking up for hero work instilled in his sleep schedule—but he liked that time. It was quiet in the mornings; only the sounds of the early morning traffic and the birds nested in the tree next to your apartment to keep him company besides your breathing: breaths that were soft and sweet and slow. 

He would curl his palm over your cheek, pressing your figure closer to his as he watched your chest rise and fall under him, stroking your skin softly with his rough thumb—because you were his in that moment. 

Just his.

In those times, he would forget what the reality of his life was—the way you would stare at him tiredly every time he knocked on your door past 1 am, the lingering feeling of your fingers on his cheeks when he leaned in for a kiss, how you would oblige him no matter how many times you’d called him while drunk and upset, the kisses he left on your forehead before he left you alone the next morning—

—That you were not his and he was not yours, no matter how many times he liked to repeat it to himself.

It’s because of my work—he said to himself in the morning, stroking your hair out of your face.

It’s because I don’t have the time to commit—he whispered, nestling himself into the crook of your neck so he could smell the lingering scent of mint, strawberries, and sex.

If only we met under different circumstances… If only my job wasn’t so demanding… If only it was easier… If only I could commit…

If only…

After a while, you only nodded when he whispered those words at three am and your head was resting on his bare chest—like you believed him. 

(Before you would get upset, turn away, tell him to leave—and the cycle would repeat.)

You’d kiss his neck in acknowledgment, curling up in his arms like a cat would—uncaring, unaware. 

He wished he could do the same; just accept the reality in front of him. 

But it didn’t matter, because right now, you were his. 

Just his.

It was the complacency that let the cycle continue; but it was the complacency that became his downfall. He realized this when he stopped leaving you after ten minutes of waking up—waiting for the pink sky to turn bright, watching your eyes flutter open under the light of forthcoming day, the small smile that creeped into your eyes when you realized he was still there—mornings spent in the kitchen drinking coffee and sharing laughs while you paraded around in the sweatshirt he left the first time he came over. 

(It was his favorite in school—black and oversized with a small embroidered insignia of All Might above the right breast.

He didn’t even know he’d lost it until you came out wearing it one morning—and some of his old cologne was still lingering on the collar.)

He let himself forget—deluded himself—into thinking it would last. That he wouldn’t eventually have to pull away, and the dream-like haze he’d lost himself in with you wouldn’t end.

Just his.

It happened five weeks later, after a month-long mission: the morning after, and you were standing in a shirt that wasn’t his with a coffee mug pressed up to your lips like it would hide what you were about to say.

“I think… I think we should end this here, Katsuki.”

The words didn’t register at first, and he stood there staring—trying to come up with an answer.

“This?”

“...us.” Your lips pressed together solemnly, as if whispering a prayer under your breath—and you let out a tired sigh. So very tired. “Our relationship.”

He grunted, unwilling to open his mouth in retaliation. The fear that had been festering in his head began to rise, ugly and thick like bile coming up his throat—and he stood still, silently, staring at the coffee you made for him with too much sugar in the mug he got you from a mission a couple months ago. 

“...I’ve been seeing someone,” you let out—but Katsuki didn’t dare look at your face; Venom sat at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spit out—

—Because you were supposed to be his. 

Just his. “Don’t call it a relationship,” he settled on—enough spite in his voice that he knew it would deter you. “It never was one.”

He expected you to look relieved when he finally stared up at you again, but your expression seemed more soured than before: like you were expecting a different answer to push past his lips. It was quickly replaced though, by a smile that didn’t seem to meet your eyes like they did when you’d wake up in the morning to still find him in bed next to you, before taking another sip of your too-sweet coffee.

“Thank you, Katsuki.”

He didn’t know what you were thanking him for—your time together? For letting you go when you’d both been hooking up like this for almost a year?

And he wasn’t even sure why it felt so bitter. He’d known from the beginning that, whatever this was, wouldn’t last forever. 

Why would you stay in something like this, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to give you more than the little bit of time he already did? Why wouldn’t you want someone who consistently woke up with you in the morning to give you breakfast in bed, or brought you flowers after work, or could take you out in the evenings for dinner?

You deserved that—you deserved all of it. 

So why did he think (hope) you would settle for the little moments he offered you when you could have the world?

He kept his face blank when he left your apartment that morning—drilling the hole in his brain that had been dedicated to you in silence—simultaneously missing the sound of sobbing that came from your apartment as soon as he stepped out the door. 

He thought he would be okay—that in a week or so, it’d be back to how it was without you. 

But it wasn’t.

One week turned into two; two weeks turned into four; and four weeks turned into sitting at the bar, drunk while still in his hero outfit, with Kirishima sitting next to him as he rambled on about you.

You were the only thing he thought about, the only thing he could think about—he missed the scent of your body wash, the warmth of your skin on his, the small teasing smiles you’d give and the dimple that only appeared on one cheek, the too-sweet coffee he’d subject himself to drinking, watching the sunrise while feeling you laying next to him…

Everything about you felt like home.

He’d even gotten distracted the other day during a villain attack because there was a civvie who looked just like you in the line of fire and he’d panicked. 

“It was such a fuckin’ rookie, stupid ass mistake, and I still made it,” he took the last sip of his pint before letting out a small, frustrated grunt because it was finished. 

Eijirou moved to prevent Katsuki from flagging the bartender down for a refill—he was drunk enough after two pints; instead, he signaled for the check while Katsuki groaned in response.

“I’m not fuckin’ finished.”

“Yes, you are,” Eijirou stared at him with a pinched expression. “You have patrol first thing in the morning—you’ll thank me for it then.”

Katsuki huffed under his breath in resignation—unfortunately Eijirou was correct. Not only that, but the upcoming lecture he knew would be coming from the higher ups would be infinitely worse with a splitting hangover. 

“I’ll pay for it,” Eijirou shooed him off his barstool. “Just go stand outside for a bit, maybe the cold will help sober you up a little before you go to sleep.”

Katsuki could only huff in response; his mind was swimming and blurred and his head felt heavy enough that he could only comply with what Eijirou had said—he’d have to pay him back for it later. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he trudged outside. 

The late-winter-early-spring winds nipped against his skin as soon as the door shut behind him, and Katsuki pulled the scarf he was wearing higher up to fully cover his neck and chin—shifting uncomfortably in the cold while he waited for Kirishima. The street was basically empty except for the couple people walking in and out of the bar; he guessed that it was too cold for people to be wandering around at night. Most of the shops on the streets were closed too, leaving the only illumination to come from the blinking street lamps that lined the sidewalk and the gibbous moon above.

“What’s takin’ so fuckin’ long…” he muttered under his breath—trying to peer into the window to see what Kirishima was doing. 

When he turned back, he spotted a couple walking in the distance; though he couldn’t make out their faces, their intertwined hands and the closeness they exuded was enough. Katsuki could see his breath in the air when he sighed, loudly, mind buried in the memories of what could have been—until they were close enough that he could make out their faces: and he realized, it was you.

And you looked happy with the extra, he couldn’t lie—all cheeky, rosy smiles and giggles as he told you some joke that he could barely get through without laughing himself; you were holding a bouquet of pink and yellow tulips in one hand, with the other hand clasped in his (which he occasionally brought up to his lips to kiss the back of); he was carrying both the leftovers of the restaurant you both just went to and a shopping bag from a store you’d always liked.

You looked… at peace—with yourself, your situation.

But as happy as you looked, he couldn’t help the ugly, selfish feeling boiling in the back of his throat.

Because you were just his.

Because… that should’ve been him.

It should’ve been him—holding your hand, leading you through the night with confidence, and the other holding everything you wanted to buy while you smiled and giggled on his arm. 

You’d love teasing him. You’d loved spending time with him, as little as it was.

And though he’d refused it for so long, you’d loved him too.

He’d spent weeks, months, trying to ignore that fact when the two of you were together, if you could even classify it as that—and here he was, stuck in the same fucking position; he was destined to just watch you from afar as you moved on from the cycle he’d pushed you into, while he lost himself in it instead.

Maybe he was just selfish.

Katsuki didn’t even know when he started following you both, distantly (maybe he couldn’t help it, maybe he just wanted to make sure you reached home safe)—Eijirou was an afterthought at that point—and when you’d finally reached your apartment.

The extra even offered to come up and drop the bags off so you wouldn’t have to carry them up the stairs yourself, but you declined: kissing him shortly before waving goodbye and watching him leave. 

Watching you kiss him seemed to wake Katsuki up, his glazed over eyes finally seeming to register his surroundings: the streetlamps overhead, the light from the apartments lining the building, the little crack in the paint of the building where he’d once apprehended a villain to save you, you staring at him—

—you were staring at him? Katsuki didn’t shift from where he was standing as you walked up to him, leftovers and shopping and tulips forgotten on the sidewalk in front of your apartment.

“Katsuki?” Your lips barely moved, and your hands were pressed to your sides. You were trembling slightly—and he couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or him.

He didn’t answer; he couldn’t will his mouth to open in front of you.

“Wh–What are you doing here?”

Even worse, he couldn’t bear to tell you the truth.

“I uh… I was on patrol nearby.”

You stared off to that little crack in the painted wall as if you were reminiscing, avoiding his gaze—your fingers rubbing together red in the cold with wobbly knuckles.

You were freezing.

“Here,” he grunted, slowly pulling his scarf from under his neck to hand it to you. Your expression instantly changed, and though you tried to dissuade him, the visible puffs of air coming from your nose were enough to tell him that it was something you needed.

“I… Thank you…” you whispered, letting him wrap it around you. “You always said you hated the cold, so…”

“Doesn’t matter. You clearly need it more than I do.”

This was his final act, he’d decided. He couldn’t hold you back any longer—not when he couldn’t give you what you wanted and needed out of him; no, it was what you deserved. Maybe his final act of stupidity would mean enough to him in the future that he’d be able to move on; and maybe one day the stupid scarf would just be a memento you had, instead of a reminder of the hurt he knew he’d brought.

And it was all so fucking dumb and poetic—standing in the spot you’d both met, saying your final goodbyes with your happy ending just waiting in the distance: waiting for him to get out of your life so it could be whole and right again.

But when you turned around, and started walking back towards the tulips he never bought you, leftovers from the restaurants where he never took you, and the clothes he’d never offered to buy—your apartment where his sweatshirt was laying in the first, top drawer of your dresser—the words were choked out of his throat.

Because you were supposed to be just his.

And maybe the alcohol in his system had the influence, but he couldn’t let you go: not when you were the best thing that’d ever happened in his entire life. 

The echoing sound of boots slapping loudly against the pavement and your name being called out by his heavy cries was enough to stop you in your tracks—and at first he thought it was because you didn’t want to see him again: but when he called your name once more and you turned around, he learned it was because you were already crying.

“I…I love you,” he whispered when he was close enough, fighting the urge to wipe your tears away like his own weren’t following quickly behind.

“Katsuki…” you smeared your cold fingers over your face, trying to wipe away the evidence that kept falling. “I-I…Y-You…Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for those words to come out of your lips?” you couldn’t really stop the tears from falling now—and he could only pathetically watch as they did. “Do you know how much I’ve fucking ached and cried over those three stupid fucking words? And now… Now that I finally feel okay, you’re standing here—pretending like you can make it alright again? How can you–”

“I love you,” he repeated, grounding his stance in the pavement. He couldn’t let you slip straight through his fingers. “I’ve loved you since I blasted that idiot against that wall to save you. I’ve loved you since you dressed my wounds in your apartment. I’ve loved you since we met at that coffee shop again down the street. I’ve loved you through every night spent together, and through every mission spent away…” He repeated your name once more, cradling your face in his rough, cold palms like he would an oath to his heart. “And—m’sorry… I-I know I was a fuckin’ idiot this whole time not realizin’ it, and you can hate me all you want but I… I just needed you to know, ‘kay?—I couldn’t let you walk out of my life without knowing.”

He couldn’t even face you anymore, not when he could feel the tear that’d begun leaking down his cheek at the thought of you rejecting his admission: a secret he’d kept close to his heart, burying it underneath years of repression and loathing.

And now it was out in the open, left for you to stomp on if you wanted to.

“You say that now, Katsuki,” you uttered, the tears now drying on your cheeks. “But we both know that whatever this is isn’t gonna last.” You scoffed bitterly, putting your hands over his—perhaps in an attempt to remove them from where they were plastered to your skin—but instead they just rested over his while your bottom lip wobbled dangerously. 

He knew you were right. He knew that everything you said was true.

And yet—

—he kissed you anyway. 

Because you knew: that you were just his and he was just yours.

Ignorance is Bliss (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Confessing to you has turned into quite the hassle for Bakugou, as you seem to be totally oblivious to every single one of his ideas. From notes to jewelry, you don’t notice a single thing he tries to anonymously give you. Surely you weren’t that ignorant, were you?

A/N: I desire sleep. I just wanna sleep…. Anyways, here’s another Bakugou oneshot, because it’s just so easy to get ideas for him. This time, poor explody boy’s just confused. Again, thank you guys so much for the likes and follows, and please enjoy!

Word count: 3349

        To Bakugou you were… tolerable. However, in his case, those were pretty high marks. And it was because you were so tolerable that he found himself okay with the idea of hanging out with you more. He was fine with seeing you around after school, or maybe at the movies. Maybe even in his dorm room- okay, he was crushing on you. Hard. Hard enough that he found himself wanting to ask you out. 

        At first, Bakugou tried to ask for the annoying redhead’s help, but that didn’t work out so well. 

        “What about getting her candy and a teddy bear, and then telling her how you feel? Girls like that stuff,” Kirishima had innocently suggested.

        “What is she, five? Fuck no.” He shut down his sturdy friend instantly. After that, the blond had told his companion that he would figure it out on his own. If on his own meant he used Google. To be fair, it was the only other resource Bakugou could depend on at this point. So he searched up what girls like, and found a whole bunch of mumbo jumbo he didn’t really have the money for, but they were worth trying out anyway. The first thing on the list? Flowers. All right, he could afford that. 

        The next day, the blond hero-in-training barged into class much earlier than he ever had, even earlier than the loud-mouthed class captain, and plopped down a hefty bouquet of roses along with a small note attached saying who it was from in the middle of your desk. And then he waited. 

        When you finally showed up, Bakugou was practically snoring in his chair, reclined back with a small dribble of drool crawling down his chin. You didn’t greet him, but you never did, so that wasn’t unexpected. What was, however, was your reaction to his gift.

        “Who the fuck left their garden on my seat?” you exclaimed with disdain. The volume was loud enough to jumpstart the blond from his slumber. He furrowed his brows at your question, now wide awake. Here’s the thing, Bakugou knew you were a cusser. It was one of the few things he liked about you. But the fact that you had cussed at his gift... well, that kind of ticked him off. 

        “What’s wrong with them?” he demanded, but before you could respond, a loud sneeze echoed around the room. 

        Sniffing harshly, you untucked your face from your elbow and inspected the damage before replying, “I’m allergic to their pollen, dumbass.” Pinching the bouquet’s stems between your thumb and forefinger, you held it as far away from your face as you could while you carried it over to the trash. Bakugou’s voice stuck in his throat before he could try to stop you, so he could only watch in horror as you hovered the gift over the plastic bin. Watching his personal note work free from between two stems, the blond clenched his jaw and seethed silently when it gracefully floated to the bottom of the empty bin. 

        “Aww, YN, are you really throwing those roses away? They’re so pretty!” Uraraka spoke up, just then stepping into the classroom. She pouted sadly at the sight. 

        “Well, do you want them?” you offered, extending Bakugou’s gift towards her. 

        “Umm sure. I guess I’ll take them if you really don’t want them!” she agreed, accepting the bouquet and taking a whiff before thanking you. As you told her it was no problem, Bakugou curled his hands into fists and sneered. 

        “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

                                ###

        That night, the blond student consulted his old friend Google once more for advice, leering over his glowing laptop and scouring for anything that might help him woo you. “A poem, huh? Ugh, do girls really like that sappy shit?” You best believe he copied one of Shakespeare’s most popular pieces and dropped it off at your door signed with his name the next morning. Plagiarism be damned, he really wanted to go out with you. After watching the love note flutter to the ground face-down, he quickly knocked on your door and rushed away, peeking out from the wall of another hallway while he waited for you to answer. 

        “Okay, who the fu- what the hell?” you wondered aloud, whipping open your door and angrily peering out only to see no one. Glancing around, your eyes finally spotted the white paper on the floor. Lifting it up, you observed the backside of the note with a scrunched nose. Shrugging dismissively, you crumble up the slip of paper with both hands while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking litterers,” before throwing the ball into the trash can outside your door. After you returned inside your room, Bakugou came out from behind the wall and stared at where you had stood, totally and utterly dumbfounded. Were you really that stupid? Surely you were kidding with him, right? You didn’t seriously just throw away his love letter after only looking at the blank side, did you?

        Shaking his head, Bakugou abruptly remembered that yes, you have done dumber things. Just thinking off the top of his head, he could remember many incidents where you completely amazed him with your own idiocy before he ever thought much of your presence. For example, one time you had been so tired that you had run into the wall directly next to Class 1-A’s entrance, then proceeded to yell at it, “Move dumbass!” So yes, yes he could believe you had just thrown away his confession note obliviously. Bakugou shook his head at the memory before rubbing his temples, walking back to his own room to plot yet another tactic of confession.

                                ###

        Google was a godsend, and had provided him with the perfect gift. Jewelry! How had he completely managed to forget how much women love jewelry. Over the weekend, Bakugou had managed to convince Kirishima to buy him a necklace for you, one that was “your style.” In the end, his redheaded classmate arrived at school on Monday with a silver heart encasing a crimson stone on a metal chain. After silently thanking Kirishima with a small nod, Bakugou couldn’t help the small curl of the corners of his mouth while he lifted the locket up to glimmer in the fluorescent light of the classroom. His hard-headed companion, however, seemed a little disappointed in the gift. 

        “Look dude, I really don’t think YN is going to like that. She’s not really that kind of girl,” Kirishima insisted, a little concerned at how his friend would react if yet another confession plan failed. 

        “Trust me, this time I’ll get her. Plus, you know how all women love jewelry, it’s foolproof,” Bakugou assured his friend with a smirk eyes still set on the necklace. Patting Kirishima on the chest, the blond gestured for him to observe as he set down the necklace on your desk and made his way back, both preparing to watch your reaction. The redhead pursed his lips and bit them anxiously while his friend squinted with impatience. Finally, you entered the classroom and Bakugou had to hold back a fist pump. After all, he wasn’t victorious yet. Sitting down in your seat, you didn’t appear to notice the necklace, and the blond flinched harshly when you ignorantly dropped your bag on top of it. An apologetic hand settled onto his shoulder, and Bakugou was too stunned at your utter obliviousness to things right in front of you to shrug off Kirishima. 

                                ###

        He had watched you all day in class, and nothing. You hadn’t acknowledged the necklace at all, and you didn’t even notice when your notebook had accidentally pushed it off the table. The future hero’s eye twitched and his hands began to tingle in irritation. You had to be screwing with him! How ignorant could you be? 

        It wasn’t until after school when he discovered you had, in fact, noticed the necklace, but for all the wrong reasons. Miserably dragging his feet to his room, he had passed the common area, only to hear your heart-stopping voice. Halting in his tracks, he backtracked until he could see you and the pink freak standing in the middle of the room and conversing. Eavesdropping slightly, he leaned his head in to hear better. 

        “Oh YN, that’s so cute,” Ashido gushed, holding her hands to her cheeks as she observed the necklace you held in between the two of you. “Who gave it to yo-”

        “How much do you think it could sell for?” you asked distractedly, scrutinizing the gem in the center of the silver heart before peering back up at your classmate curiously. 

        “Well, i-isn’t it a gift?” she replied, her usually bright voice dropping with a lilt of uncertainty.

        “I don’t know,” you shrugged casually, “I just found it lying around.” Umm, no. Bakugou vividly remembered setting it down quite obviously in the center of your desk. Maybe you needed a nice, new pair of glasses. That could be his next gift. 

        Mina shifted excitedly from foot-to-foot with her hands folded in front of her heart before enthusiastically suggesting, “Well, why don’t you just keep it? It is really pretty!” 

        Pursing your lips, you looked at her with an “are you serious” face before promptly responding, “Because it’s not mine, duh. That would be rude, Mina.” 

        Distractedly peering back down at the necklace, you made your way to the exit of the common area with Ashido bewilderedly shouting after you, “And selling it isn’t?!” 

                                ###

        In a last ditch effort to grab your attention and confess, Bakugou made his way to the mall and searched for a clothing store you seemed to absolutely adore. On many of your clothes resided the word “Pink,” and the blonde student could distantly remember his mom always dragging through malls and passing by a shop with the exact same name. 

        Now, as he stood in front of the bright, highly feminine store, he couldn’t help but sneer disgustedly at its neighbor. Shuddering (and blushing) at the sight, he stepped into the original store, only to bare his teeth at the sight of the one register being in the connecting room. In that store. Bakugou groaned aloud, attracting attention from most of the customers and workers in the area. Snarling back at them, the blond continued to his original goal, wandering into the other, darker half of the shop. 

        “Why the hell are they the same store?!” he muttered to himself with a grossed out expression, all while keeping his head low to avoid staring at the rather lewd clothing around him. Although, it seemed unavoidable at a certain point when Bakugou accidentally ran into a table, looking up to find his path once more only to make eye contact with string. That’s it, he swore that’s all it was. Just… string. What the hell is that gonna do?! His face burned at the sight and he clenched his jaw tightly, searching for the checkout area so he could finish his business and get the hell out of this place. 

        At last, he reached his destination and slammed his palms down on the counter, causing the cashier to flinch with frightened eyes. “Gimme a Pink gift card. Twenty-five dollars,” Bakugou demanded harshly. The girl in front of him instantly lost her patience at the order, and she had to force on a fake smile before replying. 

        “Sorry sir,” her voice was snide. “We only have Victoria’s Secret gift cards here.”

        “Whatever, just give me a damn card,” he barked, shoving the cash into her hands. The teen boy was growing seriously uncomfortable in this place, and he despised that feeling. 

        “Here you go. Have a nice day!” the worker sarcastically chimed, beaming at how anxious he appeared. His lip curled at her tone and he grumbled under his breath as he navigated his way out of the vulgar store. 

                                ###

        Bakugou’s hands trembled as he set down the card on your desk. He was still shaken up over that stupid store, but whenever Kirishima asked him about it, he just shook off the question, mumbling about how he didn’t want to talk about it. Crashing down into his desk, Bakugou miserably shoved his chin into his hands, resting over the surface and waiting impatiently for you to see his gift. He wasn’t stupid this round. In a brightly colored, anonymous card, the blond had written about how he liked you and how he wanted you to buy yourself something nice. It was a genius plan, as now he didn’t have to worry about buying you something. Oh man, if only he had put his damn name on it. 

        When you walked into the chattering classroom and sat in your seat, you inspected the card thoroughly, even poking at it with your goddamn pencil. What the hell? Either way, when you finally opened it like a big girl and watched the special gift card drop unceremoniously onto your desk, you didn’t make a sound. You just… stared. You were totally silent, breathing evenly with a blank face as you inspected the card like it had the secrets to the world. Evidently, you didn’t want to know those secrets, as you abruptly pushed up out of your chair, ever-so gracefully banging it into the desk behind you. Your eyes were dark and unreadable, and you hair acted as a curtain around your face while your fingers braced against the desktop. It was like you were burning the hot pink words printed on the gift card into your brain. 

        Finally, you looked up and stared ahead at the teacher’s board while your face slowly grew enraged. “Mineta, you little creep! I’m gonna kick your ass!” Bakugou jumped at your outburst, observing shakily as you swiftly turned your head to the pint-sized, purple student in the corner of the room. As a result, the little squirt screamed in terror and ran away. You chased him out of the room, and Bakugou couldn’t help but bite his lip tentatively while staring blankly at where you had stood. 

        Kirishima, also shaken by your sudden outburst, made his way over to his best friend’s desk, glancing at yours along the way. Spotting what had made you so upset, the redhead groaned and dragged a hand down his face while shaking his head. “Seriously, Bakugou, Victoria’s Secret? That was your genius idea?” The blond nodded in a daze. “If she ever finds out,” he continued, “she’s going to murder you.” Bakugou could only nod in agreement, still shocked at your reaction to the gift. Was it really that perverted? 

        Helplessly, he stares up at his friend with desperation dripping from his face, whispering a small, “Help me.” Kirishima beams brightly at the admission, placing his hands on his hips.

        “Finally willing to listen, huh?”

        “Don’t push it.” Bakugou massages his temples, exhausted from the week's events. 

        “Don’t you worry, buddy. I have the perfect idea.”

                                ###

        There was still a small, minuscule chance that Kirishima was wrong, right? Bakugou could care less at this point, he just wanted to confess to you. You were strong, stubborn, loud-mouthed, arrogant, and infuriating. He loved it. Ever since you had insulted him back and then proceeded to kick his ass almost beat him up during a training session, he had fallen for you. Which was why he had gone to such lengths for you. He wanted to get you the perfect gift to return all the fuzzy, totally lame feelings you had given him. And apparently, according to Kirishima, a little bunny stuffed animal and a box of chocolates were the best way to begin to do that. The redhead had claimed that gifts wouldn’t make any girl, especially you, fall in love with him instantaneously. Bakugou was doubtful, but according to how all his previous plans had crashed and burned into one spectacularly extravagant trainwreck, he had no room to judge. 

        While letting those thoughts run rampant in his head, the normally tumultuous hero-in-training stood silently in front of your door, awkwardly waiting for you to answer after he had painfully knocked on it with his forehead. What was he supposed to do; his hands were chock full of stuffed rabbit and chocolates. Breathing a sigh of relief when the door opened to reveal you with a soft, sly smile, he shoved his new gifts towards you. 

        “I like you,” he mumbled apprehensively, looking to the side to prevent you from seeing his flushed cheeks. You could barely hear him, but you knew. Oh yeah, you definitely knew. 

        “Took you long enough,” you teased, hugging the presents to your chest. “No offense, but your other gifts were shit. Oh, aside from this.” Fiddling with the heart necklace and giving him a lopsided grin, you tossed the bunny and the chocolates onto your bed behind you before grabbing him by his wrists and tugging him inside, him stumbling in after you with a dropped jaw. “Speaking of, if you really want me to buy new lingerie, I’ll bring you along next time.” You laughed cheekily as Bakugou’s cheeks grew a darker shade of red, and he muttered at you to shut up. 

                                ###

        Bakugou’s arm tightened around your shoulder as you pushed open the door to the classroom, giggling at his deadpan joke while the corner of his mouth quirked up at your bright smile. Directing you to your seat, he released your shoulder and groaned while dropping your bag to the ground. “Ugh, why is that thing so heavy?” he whined, glaring at the weighted object. Laughing at his pain, the pair of you suddenly tense up at a smaller presence behind you. Instantaneously, the both of you grow pissed, you whipping around and glaring while Bakugou wraps his arm around your waist possessively. 

        “What do you want, pipsqueak?” your boyfriend hissed at Mineta. 

        The shorter male’s eyes widened and he took a barely noticeable step back before standing tall once more and proudly announcing, “YN, I was hoping you’ve come to your senses today and realized that you have wrongfully blamed me for a despicable, unthinkable action!” Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong, but that didn’t mean you wanted to admit defeat. Especially to him. Sneering and opening your mouth to respond, the little grape lifted a finger to pause you and continued, “I will, however, forgive you in exchange for a generous kiss.” Ignoring your disgusted look, Mineta closed his eyes and puckered his lips, only to open them once more at the sound of explosions. 

        Bakugou’s grip on your side was practically bruising, while his other hand was raised with an eruptive display for all to see. Snarling ferociously, the blond’s voice was gruff and threatening as he lowly warned, “You better get a head start while you can. I’m gonna beat your ass, you little creep.” Bakugou’s scarlet eyes were glaring nastily at Mineta, and if looks could kill,... well, you know the rest. The purple-haired pervert stumbled back a couple steps before he whimpered and spun around on his toes, hightailing it out of the classroom. Bakugou smiled at the sight and turned to brush his lips against yours. You placed your hand on the back of his neck to hold him there for a couple seconds, gently nibbling on his lower lip before finally pulling away. The tingles his soft kiss left behind compelled you to keep your eyes and revel in the waves of pleasure they evoked. You were content, at least until a loud bang ripped your eyes open. It was the door to the classroom swinging open as you saw the blond hair of your boyfriend disappear into the hallway. 

        “You purple son of a bitch!”

        Wincing at the roar, you hesitantly sat at your desk, sucking air through your teeth and fiddling with the silver locket around your neck.  “Oopsies.”

late night rendezvous /// katsuki bakugo

rating: 18+. minors dni.

word count: 4k+

warnings: smut, daddy kink, breeding kink, degrading, use of pet names, characters aged up to 20’s, college!au, quirkless!au, sex without condom (wrap it up), use of birth control, tummy bulges, alcohol use, afab reader, pussy and cunt are used to describe reader’s parts, kind of rough katsuki, color-coded texting used. pink is mina, orange is bakugo, red is kirishima.

this is my first time writing smut, take it easy on my fragile feelings :’) i’m trying to work on having my writing flow so bear with me.

we hit the highway 1-5-5 with my whole foot on the dash, she’s in my ear, she’s got no fear, she could care less if we crash.

“too lanky.” swipe

“all of his pictures have girls in them.” swipe.

“he’s definitely lying about being of age.” swipe.

“mina, why did you even have me download the damn app if all the guys on here don’t have your seal of approval?”

“you’re thinking too negatively! you just have persist and find that hidden gem!” you don’t know how your roommate convinced you download tinder. you guys always had a midweek dinner together, just making sure you stay caught up with each other due to your busy schedules. after a few too many glasses of wine, you had confessed to her that you hadn’t been properly dicked in a few months. the thought of going without good sex horrified your pink-haired friend and she was practically on her knees begging your to download some sort of dating/hookup app.

“mina i don’t think this was a good idea. either none of them fit your ‘good hookup’ standards or they don’t fit mine.” you threw your phone down in defeat.

“oh c’mon! you just ha-“

“if you tell me i have to look a little longer i’ll rip your tongue out and slap you with it.” you said, cutting her sentence off. she slowly closed her mouth and looked at the ground in thought. twiddling her thumbs as she did so. your own mind drifted away in thought until she suddenly jolted up off the couch.

“bakugo!” she yelled whilst jumping up and down like a cartoon character.

“huh?”

“oh c’mon! i know you’ve always thought he was attractive! your face turns that tomato red color every time you see him! plus, he’s been single for a while and I really think you two would look good together!” you looked up at her with a dumbfounded expression, blinking slowly.

“bakugo? as in katsuki bakugo? as in katsuki ‘stares daggers at anybody who isn’t you or his close friends’ bakugo?” you slowed down each word spoken as if it would sink into the pinkette’s head. you could admit that he was pretty attractive, but you and katsuki had only had a few interactions, none of them giving off “perfect hookup” vibes. in fact, the only vibes he gave off were “i hate your guys” vibes. each time it was when mina had the friend group over and you happened to either come in late or leave your room for something. she always invited you to join, but you always declined. never wanting to intrude on the little group that’s been inseparable since high school.

“i promise, babes, he’s actually super sweet in his own scary kind of way! you have to get to know him,” she grabbed you by your shoulders, “let me text kiri and see if he thinks bakugo would be down!” before you could express any disinterest, mina had already skipped along over to her room to get her phone. you groaned and covered your head with a pillow as you slumped down onto your couch. contemplating the events of the last hour, wishing you hadn’t of taken mina’s offer to buy your favorite flavor of red.

you sat on the couch for a few more minutes before mina happily ran back into the room and tore the pillow from your face. she was practically shoving her phone in your face with the brightness all the way up.

“jesus, mina, are you trying to blind me?”

“oh get over it you baby. anywho, kiri said he thinks it’s a great idea, and he’s been trying to get bakugo out there again, so he’s gonna try to talk him into it!” she let out a little squeal as she shook her empty hand back and forth wearing the widest smile on her face.

“yay?” you replied, a little apprehensive, but also just trying to fake some excitement.

“don’t sound too happy, babes, you’ll piss your pants in enthusiasm.” her voice dripped with sarcasm and she narrowed her eyes at you.

“i’m sorry, meens, i’m just nervous! your friends are scary and you’re trying to set me up with the scariest one!” you thought about the times you’ve encountered her friend group. all of them (excluding bakugo) had always been super friendly and inviting towards you and even encouraged you to join them if mina tried inviting you to hang out. the sheer size of all of them intimidated you the most, all of them towering over you and most of them were built from years of weight training. kirishima was the biggest, with huge muscles that always seemed to be flexed, even if he was relaxing. bakugo coming in a close second. the difference between the two was kirishima was always outgoing and friendly and bakugo was…

well, he was just not.

it seemed like he always made a point to glare at you. barely ever speaking a word if you happened to come across him in the kitchen or in the hall where the bathroom was. only brushing your shoulder as he walked past you or muttering a “tch.” if you accidentally bumped into him, even if it was his fault you two collided.

that’s why you were shocked when kirishima told mina he had actually talked bakugo into hanging out at your apartment with you.

just the two of you alone.

alone.

the thought loomed over your head for the next week. you didn’t know why you were so nervous. it’s not like it was that serious or you actually wanted it to work out. it was just simply hanging out to watch a movie or two. it’s not like you admired his toned body every time you bumped into him in your little apartment, taking in the way he smelt sweet like burnt sugar.

watching the way his shirt would lift when he grabbed something from the top of the pantry and you got to peek at his toned stomach and the little v-line that disappeared in his sweats.

the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

you definitely didn’t see him in that way.

when the night finally came, you were a nervous wreck. you tried to hide how nervous you were, but mina saw right through your little facade.

“you are going to be absolutely fine. if you need anything, i’m turning my phone off do not disturb for you, so don’t be afraid to call or text.” she lightly applied some makeup to your face, just enough to enhance your features. she dressed you in a tennis skirt and a tight graphic crop top. not too unusual for stuff you’d usually wear out, but not something her friends had ever seen you in.

“don’t make me feel too special now. you never turn your phone off DND for anybody.” she stretched the skin around your left eye to apply some eyeliner.

“you know I love you babes. you’re my best freaking friend! now shut the fuck up so I don’t mess this up.” she swatted at you and you tried your best to contain your laughter as she finished up. afterwards, the two of you couldn’t contain your fits of giggles.

before she left the apartment, she stuffed some condoms into the drawer on the side table. “just in case” she told you. she reassured you once more that you looked amazing and that the date would go fine.

date. a little word currently giving you so much anxiety. you made your way to your smaller couch closer to the door to wait on bakugo and try to clear some of the negativity from your head.

a few minutes after she left, you heard a slightly aggressive knock on your door. before opening it, you smoothed out any wrinkles in your skirt and admired yourself in the small mirror you kept hanging near the door. a second, more aggressive, knock scared you out of your trance and you finally gripped the knob and opened the door.

bakugo was leaning against the railing across from your door and you had to admit, this man looked damn fine.

he wore a simple outfit. black jeans, white tee, and a black bomber jacket. his undercut looked as if he gelled it to look more uniform, a gesture that made your heart flutter. an outfit like this usually wouldn’t affect you much, but knowing that a man with a body that looked like it was carved by michelangelo himself was wearing it made your core buzz to life.

“hey.” you said, trying to not sound as desperate for him as you felt and gesturing for him to come inside.

“hey.” he replied dryly, pushing past your body to come inside. this time though, his hands found your waist as he moved you aside so he could fit in the doorframe. any doubts you had about maybe wanting to take your chance and fuck this man melted away. any denial about your blossoming feelings for the man also gone. you became a woman determined to get in the blonde’s pants.

you shut and locked your door and quickly told him to make himself at home and gave him the remote to pick the movie. his fingers lingered on your hand a little longer than they should’ve.

“d’ya want a drink?” you asked, making your way to your small kitchen and pulling out the ingredients to make yourself one. hoping some liquid courage would calm your nerves and be a good excuse in case bakugo didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

“yeah you can whip somethin’ up for me. kirishima told me that mina said you have some bartendin’ experience.” he looked over his shoulder at you and flashed you a smirk. there was no doubt about it, this man was confident.

“that i do,” you smiled back at him, “so you’ve been asking about me, eh?” you joked, pouring together various liquids. so far, you were finding it relatively easy to converse with the blonde on your couch. mentally cursing yourself for having to admit that mina was right about him.

you decided to make yourself a simple mixture of pink whitney and lemonade. you made him a whiskey sour, remembering mina asking you to make one real quick after he and his last girlfriend had broken up and the group was due to come at any minute to cheer him up. she told you it was his favorite.

“how’d you know, huh?” he asked as you handed him the glass.

“i have my ways, besides, a magician never reveals her secrets.” you gave him a wink as you sat next to him on the couch. he had picked some netflix show that you never got the name of, mainly because as the night went on and the drinks kept coming, you found each other engrossed in conversation. hopping from one subject to the next and finding out you have a lot of similar interests. eventually, his jacket came off and was draped over the back of the couch. leaving his toned, muscular arms on display and ready to be eyefucked by you.

“no way! i would’ve never pegged you as a drummer!”

“believe it, sweets. what? pinky never told you?” the hand he had tracing circles on your exposed thigh did not go unnoticed. neither did the pet name. you’ve been practically drilling since you sat down next to him. unsure of if you’re actually this attracted towards him or just severely depraved of any action.

“truth be told, she never goes into too much detail about you. probably because you terrify me.” he furrowed his perfect brows at you.

“terrify you?” his hand moved up your thigh some more, your core that had ached since the moment he stepped in your house now screaming for something, anything. a damp patch starting to grow on your panties.

“oh come on, there’s no way you don’t recognize how intimidating you can be. especially since you’re a huge guy,” you gripped his bicep to try to and show him what you’re talking about, but you also just wanted an excuse to touch him. you didn’t miss the way the corners of his lips turned into a smile or that his hand had moved to your waist, “plus, you’re always staring at me in such a mean looking way. could’ve had me convinced that you hate me.”

“hate you?” he started to lean in.

“yeah.” you leaned in to him too.

“‘m not sure if it’s just the alcohol talking, but i’m more than willing to show you just how big of a guy i am. i’ll show you i don’t hate you, just thought you were so fuckin’ sexy and didn’t know how to tell you.” the two of you were as close to each others faces that you could be without physically touching. your breaths fanning over his face and his to yours. his breath smelled like spearmint gum mixed with liquor.

“it’s definitely not the alcohol talking for me, wanted you since the moment you walked in.” and with that you finally closed the gap. making out with the huge blonde in the middle of your living room. hands running up and down each others bodies. yours making themselves at home in his blonde locks and his moving between groping your tits and ass, the movements making you moan into his mouth. suddenly, he pulled himself back. you gave bakugo a confused look.

“should we talk about this first? we’re both not completely there, y’know.” it startled you when he pulled away. it startled you even more when the caring words left his mouth. the gesture of wanting to make sure you weren’t taking advantage of each other while you both had alcohol in your system making you melt into his hands.

“no. i know i wan’ you, plus, im beginning to sober up.” you dove back in, but this time your lips found comfort in his neck. leaving soft kisses and nips on his sensitive skin while he tried to suppress the groans threatening to erupt from his chest. your hands found the hem of his shirt and started tugging it up. he took the hint and pulled his shirt off and throwing in behind the couch. letting you see his chest in all of its glory. any qualms the two of you may of had seemingly disappearing once his shirt was gone. he had a few blonde hairs on his chest and beautiful, tanned skin. his abs could compare to any body builder.

“y’know starin’s fuckin’s rude right, angel?” he grabbed your wrists and brought them to his chest. letting your fingers roam his nude upper half. you pinched and squeezed at his body, paying some extra attention to his nipples. the feeling of you touching his body was already becoming too much and a groan finally escaped his lips. “stop fuckin’ teasin’ me and lemme take your shirt off.”

you removed yourself from his chest and raised your arms, allowing him to take off your top. he moved his fingers slowly, delicately as if he were trying to give himself a show and savor every bit of your skin that was revealed as he pulled your shirt up. he was surprised to see that you had foregone a bra.

“such a dirty fuckin’ slut. so desperate for cock that you couldn’t even keep yourself decent.” he squeezed at your chest and took one of your nipples in his mouth. his wet tongue running circles over it again and again. he drank up the moans that left your mouth and you arched your back, making your chest press into him more and threw your head back.

“fuck bakugo!” you yelped out. you unconsciously started grinding your hips down onto his growing bulge. the arousal starting to leak through your panties and leaving a damp patch on the dark denim of his jeans. he moaned around your nipple at the contact, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight down to your core.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty y’know that?” he said as he released your nipple from his mouth, replacing it with his hands once more. his hands were rough and calloused, but felt oh so good on your aching body. “i would’ve gotten you outta your clothes ages ago if i knew how desperate you needed it.”

“oh yeah?” you said, breathlessly, “then show me how pretty you think i am.” katsuki’s stubbornness came to your advantage when you challenged him. you knew from nights where him and the group would play mario kart on your tv that he wasn’t one to back down and he certainly wasn’t one to lose. he finally let his hand slide under your skirt on grab ahold of your perfect peachy ass.

you kept your body moving back and forth on his. one of his hands rested lazily on your hip while the other gripped at your ass and moved you at an almost impossible pace on him. he removed the hand that was kneading your ass and moved it to your aching clit. using some of his fingers to push your panties to the side and using another to run his finger up and down your soaked slit whilst you still continued grinding into him. he let you coat his finger before bringing it back up to eye level.

“look at how fuckin’ wet you are f’me.” he twisted his finger to let the slickness catch the light. the tip of the finger started to prune because of the wetness. you were already started to approach orgasm from the rough grinding, but the sight of him admiring your arousal on his finger sped the process up. your hips starting to move even faster against him and he placed the finger in his mouth. moving his tongue up and down in a dramatic showcase just for you. slurping up any of your juices that dared to drip from his index with a wicked grin on his face.

the sight of him in combination with the rough grinding on your clit was enough to make the coil inside your stomach unravel. the pressure that had been steadily building for so long finally had you releasing a clear liquid all over his now ruined jeans. you threw your head into his shoulder as your body shook from such an intense orgasm. bakugo moving his hand down to rub you clit through your panties as you released a few more spurts of liquid.

“fuck, you just squirt f’me? just from some dry humpin’? you really are such a desperate slut.” he turned his head to whisper in your ear and his words made you start to gush again. he pushed your thighs back to give him some room to unbutton his pants and free his achingly hard cock from its confines. you had to admit, everything about him really was big. he wasn’t as long as some that you’ve had before, but boy was he thick. you eyed the vein the ran under his cock and his angry, red tip with a pearl of pre just waiting for you to suck.

you started to make your way out of his lap and down to the floor, but he grabbed your thighs and settled you back where you were resting before.

“you don’t want me to give you head?” you asked, quizzically.

“no, just fuckin’ need to get inside you.” he pushed your panties to the side once more.

“but baku-“

“don’t fuckin’ call me that after you squirted all over me. just call me katsuki.” you took ahold of your panties as he ran his cock up and down your wetness, lubing himself up. he lined himself up with your slippery entrance and grabbed your hips to keep you from slamming down onto him, you wanted this just as much as he did and you practically cried trying to throw yourself down onto him.

“please fuck me katsuki!” your eyes started filling with frustrated tears as you wiggled. your hips over him, trying to get some friction.

“you’re gonna have to try harder than that, angel.” he gave you a devilish smirk and raised his hand to wipe some of the tears that dripped from your lashes.

you were desperate and willing to pull out all the stops to get what you wanted.

“fuck me daddy please i need you so fucking badly.” you didn’t even comprehend the words you were saying, so hellbent on getting him inside you. you watched his ruby eyes somehow darken even more with ravenous arousal.

“say that shit again.”

“fuck me daddy?” you said in a more confused than begging tone. the grip he had on your hips was so tight you were sure bruises would be left as he thrusted into your warm and inviting walls. the stretch of having him was so deliciously good that you either didn’t have any pain or it was easily overlooked. one of his hands found his face as he laid his head back on the couch. the sight of your tits bouncing as you fucked yourself down on him was almost too hot to handle.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a sloppy kiss and you roughly bounced up and down on his length. your tongues dancing together and his thighs beginning to flex from the pleasure of having you on him.

“fuck yeah baby uh throw that ass back on me. wish i could fuckin’ see it. fuck this cock shit fuckin’ use my body.” a harsh slap landed on your ass as he hiked your skirt up around your waist. making sure nothing could impede his perfect view. he loved watching his cock appear and disappear in in your tight folds. he used on his hands to spread your lips apart and get a good look at your glistening clit, the sight making him audibly groan. the lewd moans leaving your lips were loud enough for the neighbors to start pounding their fists on the other side of the wall.

“ignore them. jus’ wanna fuck you.” you said, voice barely above a whisper and tainted by strings of moans that kept leaving your body. his hips had now started to snap upwards into you. every time you bounced down on him, he fucked upwards causing his cock to reach impossibly deep in you. he put one of his hands over your belly and almost came just from the feeling of being able to feel himself deep in your guts.

“look at the way this pussy just sucks me in, you fuckin’ love it… you love the way i fuck this sweet pussy.. shit shit shit.” katsuki’s words shooting straight to your throbbing cunt and making you ride him and an impossible pace. the sound of skin slapping and the squelching of your juices fills your apartment and echos off the walls. your moans and his rough grunts somehow making the two of you even hornier. just two college kids with sex hormones going insane.

you really lost it when he leaned over and let a fat amount of spit slide off his tongue and onto the base of his cock before you slid down on him again. the added lube helping bring you closer to your second orgasm of the night. your pussy fluttering and clenching down on him.

“fuck, you’re close aren’cha? wanna cum on this cock? i wanna know what it feels like to have you cum around me.” his words causing the familiar burning sensation in your stomach to come back for a second time. one of his hands come down to roughly rub your clit and your nails start to dig into the junction where his neck and shoulders meet. sweat was causing his blonde hairs to stick to his forehead and his abs glisten.

“fuck yes mark me baby. wan’ everyone to know i’m fuckin’ yours.” his thumb rubbed your swollen clit at what felt like a near impossible pace and you know you were close to snapping once more.

“god fuck me daddy… fuck me daddy… fuck me daddy i need to cum around your cock! i need to feel you fill me up!” for the second time this night his eyes filled with carnal desire as he started relentlessly fucking into you once more. babbling in his pussy drunk state about how good you feel around him and how good he’s gonna fill you. words fall on deaf ears as your second orgasm overtakes you so hard that white flashes over your eyes and squeal at a deafening pitch. you grip his blonde locks as your long awaited release leaks down his thighs and onto the couch.

“that’s it baby. paint this cock with your cum. fuck i don’ know if i can last much longer.”

“jus’ fucking cum for me katsuki please, i need it so bad daddy please. god… fuck!” his pace never faltered, even though your pussy tried to force him out as you came. he just kept fucking up into you, desperate to let go.

“fuck fuck baby m’ gonna cum, gonna fill you up so fuckin’ good baby. take it fuckin’ take it all…. you on birth control? he whined in your ear as you laid your head on his shoulder completely fucked out. you managed to lift up a bit just to nod your head yes to his question. with your granted permission, his hips started to slightly falter and with a few more rough thrusts, he released his hot seed into your abused cunt. he threw his head back in ecstasy as he came so much it spilled out of you. you threw your hips onto him a few more times before he had to grab you to stop.

“fuckin’ hell angel are you tryin’ to kill me?” he said through breathless pants, shooting a tired smile at you. you smiled back at him with hazy eyes. it was clear you were both exhausted from the nights activities. in the room’s quietness, you heard him chuckle.

“what’s so funny hot-shot?” you looked up at him, confused.

“the screen, ain’t that fuckin’ classic.” he started laughing again as you turned over your shoulder to see netflix’s “are you still watching?” screen light up your living room. you couldn’t help laughing a bit too. after the laughing had ceased, the two of you remained in an embrace as he gently lifted you up and slid his now soft cock out of you.

he stroked your hair as you started to let sleep overtake you. bakugo didn’t mind. he thought your tired/fucked-out face was the most adorable sight to see.

“mmm ‘night katsuki.” your words came out slurred because of your sleepiness.

“g’night baby.” he heard you start to lightly snore against his chest. he continued petting your hair and rubbing your back, content with having you rest atop him. mina wasn’t supposed to come back until morning, so he didn’t have to worried about you guys getting caught naked with his limp dick still out.

he played on his phone for about ten minutes until he felt it vibrate. he looked at the top notification panel and saw it was his group message on snapchat that he sometimes dreaded being apart of. he slid open the chat and saw that it was kirishima that had texted.

hey man, how’s it goin between you 2?

it’s going fine. she’s sleeping right now.

well?

well what?

did you do it??????

are you fucking 12? just say sex.

is that a yes?

bakugo knew they knew the answer. they messed with denki the same way last time they knew he got laid. deciding to play into their little game, he pulled up the camera on snapchat while the group chat began to buzz to life as sero and kaminari also started typing. he angled the camera so none of your privates were seen, but enough so they got the point. he rested his large hand under your skirt and on your asscheek as he clicked the circular button to take the picture. neither of your faces visible, but his bare thighs and your bare back could be seen. he sent the picture and went back into the chat and started typing.

this answer your fucking question?