#bkg thinking in the past

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: this got long sorry 😔 but creepy/perv bakugou, recording, film major bkg x art major reader, masturbation, coercion, dubcon before it just becomes con, voyeurism/exhibitionism

as an art major, you typically did some works for a few students on campus; for their plays, as background pieces while they danced, a cover for their released songs. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to ask you to create something for them, and you enjoyed it more often than not. but, you weren’t usually the art itself.

Bakugou is a friend’s friend that you’ve seen a few times, ran into at the library or at coffee shops. he’s a film major, and always looks so unhappy about the whole thing, as if he didn’t choose it himself. you joke to Mina that you think he’ll graduate and become one of those directors that hate everything and yell at the actors constantly and later on get sued for being a dickhead. you never say it to him though—you’ve never spoken more than a couple words to the man.

it’s why it shocks you when he approaches you one day. it’s after one of your painting classes, and he stands outside the door with a frown and his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyebrows scrunched as if pissed at the mere sight of you. he asks you, in that low and gruff tone of his, if you could star in his final project for the semester. says it’s supposed to be a film made with this criteria and that, but, you’ve kind of checked out on the conversation after the first sentence.

“You mean, you want me to create something and that be the star of your film?” you ask him, feeling so intimidated at his stature. he always seems to loom, his hair shadowing the lights above, creates a cast over a portion of his face, makes his eyes look…unsettling. like they’re looking straight through your flesh, can find the marrow in your bones. he scoffs like you’ve offended him, rolling his eyes into his skull, mouth pulled tight.

“No.” his voice is firm, gaze concentrated only on you, like the halls are empty and you’re the focus of his lens. “I want you to star in it.”

his words confuse you—you’ve never presented yourself as an actor before, never alluded to wanting to be in the spotlight if not for what you create with your hands. but he shuffles on his feet, looks desperate even. there’s some hemming and hawing for a minute or so—why not choose Mina?—she’s busy—why choose me?—‘cause you’d be perfect for my short film—what’s it about?—you’ll find out once you get the script.

and even after you hesitantly agree and get the script—you still don’t understand what you’re doing. why you’re here, why you’re the only person, why it has to be a solo film, why there’s damn near zero lines in the entirety of the have-to-be forty five minute film.

the scenes are all so long, and maybe it’s because movies aren’t your forte or chosen major, but you just don’t get it. one scene; you’re staring at yourself in the mirror while Bakugou holds a small, black camera over your shoulder. he’s eerily quiet behind you, whispers out a faint fuckin’ go when you have to wash your face in the sink, makes you do it over because your movements are too jerky and unnatural.

the rest of the scenes go that way; you doing regular at home activities, being put under a lens, quietly barked at to do this and move that way and fix your hair and remember to frown.

“Isn’t there another way to film this?” you ask him on the fifth day of shooting in his spacious loft. there’s a bubble bath scene coming up, one you dont understand the importance of, but Bakugou tells you it’s the most necessary part of the entire thing.

“No,” he grunts out, looking at you from under his lashes as he sits on the lid of the toilet. “But I’ll make it soapy, so the camera won’t see much.” the camera? much? you weren’t worried so much about what the camera captured as you were the man behind it. he looks at you with such intensity, you feel naked already despite the robe you wear that’s suspiciously already your size.

he leaves the bathroom when you sink in the hot water, returns before you can say it’s okay, hears the water splashing and thinks that’s good enough. he kneels on the floor beside you, camera pointed directly in your face, makes your chest hot and your skin feel prickly. the scene passes on regularly enough; you run the water over your arms, tilt your head back as you sigh, whisper the few lines scripted, lean back and close your eyes, sigh again. it’s almost relaxing, makes you forget about the friend of a friend recording you naked right now. almost.

“Touch yourself.” Bakugou suddenly demands, hushed and quiet behind the camera. your eyes immediately shoot open, looking to him in question, how he’s eerily still in his spot hovering over you.

“Huh?” you ask, unsure if you heard him correctly, looking around the rounded lens in your face, trying to ignore the red blinking light. but Bakugou only frowns.

“It’s a masturbation scene. Touch yourself.” he repeats, voice louder, more demanding this time. your stomach twists at the thought of doing something so intimate in front of him. he’s a handsome guy, for sure, even made you consider asking him out after this, figured he was just serious about his work and awkward about certain things. but…something had been off about this entire thing since the start.

“But—but I don’t, I’m not,” you stutter, sitting up a little, the bubbles covering your chest starting to disperse with your movements. but Bakugou only sits a little higher on his knees, finally pulling the camera away from his face for the first time since he’s asked you to do this for him.

“You want me to fail?” he asks, booming voice eerily quiet in the silent bathroom, carmine eyes dull, shaded over with something terrible. “Then do it.” he tells you when you shake your head quickly.

you stare at him until he gets back into position again, camera back pointed at you. when he doesn’t say anything else, you swallow thickly, wondering if the art that will come out of this will be worth it. so you listen, sneak a hand under the water, start touching yourself in a way you never have in front of anyone.

is it bad to say that it’s exhilarating? being watched and recorded by someone who breathes so heavily every time your voice hiccups? being directed to touch your chest next when the suds start to disappear and your nipples start to peek through? is it bad that you want him to send you this portion of his film, only, just so you can watch yourself again and again? make a portrait of yourself with your fingers on your nipples and your knees raising from the water and your head thrown back from the intensity in oil pastels?

“That’s a wrap.” Bakugou announces when you finish, head spinning and still panting. you look over to him, how he closes the camera, the obvious bulge in his pants. “I’ll get you a towel.”

you wonder when’s the next time he’ll need you. or better yet—maybe he could be the star in your final drawing project? you had finished it already but, what was the harm in starting over with him as your muse? as naked as you are? camera not blocking his face so you can paint the similarities of his blushing cheeks and eyes when you direct him to look at you? to touch his chest? to play with himself just like that?

#this got. so long. sowwy #but I thought about this ummmm Sunday night #but I was DRAINED from writing 7k words of scorned past midnight and then having to edit it skdjfkf #so I was like. okay. put this idea in the drafts. NOW ms dory memory #anddddd I love this so very much #would’ve loved to turn this into a full fic #but it’s so exhausting trying to write long fics recently bc of this multichap #I’m just not used to it and I can’t do two things at the same time #and I already have like 9 fics on my list to write!!!! lol #but there is something so alluring about film major bkg 2 me #I think hes awkward and comes off as mean but he really is just that serious about his work #but he’s #also a creep for you LOL #definitely think he agrees to become ur muse for art as like a trade off #and you get that boy into SO many humiliating positions 😵‍💫 #I need. to lie down. anyway. #I wrote this at 1am and was scared to post it then cause I didn’t think anyone would see it #so here it is in the morning :) #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

[lemongogo]

ork ,, this is super impulsive but i think i might apply to an artist alley and if ..i get in . IFFF!! i think ill Be Strong And Brave and try to table frlsies 🚶 bc i need to stop being scared and jsut freaking do it

but that also means id need to be serious abt drawing in the next few months and i wanted to know what you guys personally look for @ conventions .. do you prefer posters, stickers, charms, etc .. on site commissions ? .. do you look by fandom or are you more interested in art style / presentation .. and in that same vein, what fandoms do you like to see, so on

ik a lot of it comes down to where you table &the demographic there so ofc id prioritize stuff im into like trigun ofCOURSE !! jjk, kny, but like .. if you enjoy dunmeshi or drhdr , bg3 ,, if i need to go back to my bnha roots i stg i will do what it takes if it means being able to open myself up to opportunities like this🙏 HAJAHAHA

but just wondering ^__^ tysm ! hugs , kisses 🫶

#BC I NEED TO I NEED TO the desire is ripping its way thru my flesh #and i think its partly been the bane of my recent issues wrt art #bc im so scared of failure but tbh.. better to try than to never try at all ig-__- HAJAH #sorry for asking so many questions recently #i feel like its probably boring as hell 2 see that i havent been up to much but i #really appreciate the advice and such everyone has given me ovr the past few months #bakugou print incoming <will b only piece that sells #joe king .. unless.?🥸🤔🧐LMAOO #swear i saw a post that was like a bkg print will save ur table HAHAHAGAG

[darlingimawitch]

when it's bkdk AND it's bkg centric >>>>

#when bkg reflects on his past decisions and apologizes >>>>>> #or when hes in conflict bcs he thinks he dpesnt deserve dk #idk maybe i like him to be in pain #bkdk #bakudeku #dekubaku #mha #bnha #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku

[rinphoria]

katsuki <3

#[დ] — diary #i started writing the dad bkg drabble #it’s only like four sentences lol but i got tired so i’m laying in bed #but now I’m considering making it a little series #just domestic bakugo with his fam #with the kiddos i’ve talked about in the past #his timid oldest son and menace of a daughter #and i’m still thinking about knight bkg #but that ones more difficult #1) bc i only have one scene in mind and 2) i hate doing research #and i feel like that would warrant quite a bit #but maybe i can modernize it to make it tad bit easier on me #idk we’ll see

[angelshimaa]

━━ [ 𝟒:𝟐𝟗 ] ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

✧ cw :: fem!reader (bkg calls reader 'my girl' once), fluff, bkg calls you ‘babe’ once, hinted at that denki has a crush on you, you just wanna braid his hair

✧ a/n :: finally some fluff 🤭 i actually really liked writing this one !!

“your hair is actually a curse.”

your words come out a little above a whisper, absent-minded as you play with his hair, his head resting in your lap. granted, the blond hair is softer than it looks, but its uneven spikes barely allowed for any diversity in hairstyles.

“like, what do you mean i can't braid it?” this isn't the first time this exasperated complaint is voiced and you hear bakugou snort, the corners of his lips tilting upwards in a half-grin.

“thank god, i’d look like shit with braids.” you try to envision them on him, but the fact that his face is upside down doesn’t help at all. what you do see is the light from the warm day peaking through the thin curtains to kiss his face, and you're reminded of how unnecessarily pretty your boyfriend is.

“who said you don't already look like shit?” you can't help it, and when he looks up at you, eyebrows raised as if you both know better, you grin and raise yours back— as if to suggest that maybe he doesn't.

“don’t think you'd be here if i did, babe.” his grin looks boyish and you can't understand why he prefers contorting his features into a grimace.

it's your turn to snort, fingers sectioning some of his choppy bangs off to as to fiddle around with them specifically. “maybe i’m into guys who look like shit, katsuki. ever think about that?”

“if you were, you would be in dunceface’s room right now, not mine.” it's too quick of a response to not have been thought of before, and you flick the top of his forehead. he's done it to you many times before, and you understand why— it was a little fun.

“kaminari is actually really nice, katsu, leave him be.”

bakugou rolls his eyes— of course you'd think he's nice. “he’s even better when he's not hitting on my girl— he should try that sometime.” you chuckle at his grumbling, eyebrows knitted together to frame his eyes. he's cute when he's harmlessly jealous.

“even if he was— i fear my heart is already taken.” you fake a look of sorrow. “a shame, really.”

katsuki's eyes gleam in daylight as he scoffs. “‘a shame’ my ass— you're so in love with me it makes you look stupid.”

he's right, the both of you know he is. neither of you would have it any other way.

“you say that as if you don't kiss the ground i walk on, katsu.” your smile is softer and it sends a pang to his heart.

“and you deserve every kiss.” it's a cheesy line, one a past him would likely cringe at, but he finds no shame in making his devotion to you well known.

you dip your head down to give him a peck on the lips, grinning. the heart eyes he gives you when you're that close has the butterflies resting in your stomach kick up. “that’s what i thought, katsuki. now... have you ever thought about straightening your hair?”

you laugh at the horror that crosses over his face, scowl settling in his face as if to tell you to not even think about it— it doesn't matter how badly you want to braid it.

katsuki's whipped. he knows from the way he thinks you laugh like a summer afternoon, warm and excited, but even he had his limits.

✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3

taglist (fill in this form to join!) :: @maeby-cursed @katsukismrs @himikoslove @pasteldaze @afairywithacrown @moonshuul @https-spacekay @k0z3me

#— signed ⋆·ʚ⁺ #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #mha bakugou #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #mha x you #mha x y/n #bakugou imagine #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo katsuki x reader

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki’s masterlist ♡ !

lil blurbs ! ( i'm just talkin'):

katsuki likes to make you laugh

katsuki's love language is physical touch

katsuki is so dramatic

katsuki likes to bite you

childhood bodyguard! katsuki

katsuki x popstar! reader

katsuki is fun to mess with

katsuki really likes the way you smell

desperate sleepy kisses w katsuki

lil fics ! ( i ramble a little longer) :

katsuki is in trouble

katsuki's extra clingy when he's sleepy

you've been katsuki's for as long as you can remember

you are not the father ! (or watching the maury show with katsuki)

katsuki hates seeing you cry

unchanged apologies ( or the one where katsuki's childhood habits remains the same)

fire-breathing roommate chronicles ( or living w dragon bkg)

baking cookies with katsuki

can't love anyone more than you

katsuki can't say no to you (not that he wants to) (or the one where katsuki takes care of you after you get drunk) part two !

déjà vu : a french term that translates to "already seen." It is a phenomenon where an individual feels a strong sense of familiarity or recognition with a current situation.( or the one where katsuki thinks about you) bnha manga spoilers !!

the bet (or the one where your classmates make a bet.)

this night has opened my eyes (or the one where katsuki cleans up your injuries)

valentine's day troubles (or the one where katsuki's friends help him out for valentines day

boyfriend for sale ! (or the one where your boyfriend forgets to ask you to be his valentine) feat. shoto todoroki !

ewww, katsu's got cooties ! (or the one where katsuki is too cool for cooties)

two of hearts (or the one where katsuki wakes up) bnha manga spoilers !!

31 days (or the one where katsuki surprises you)

longer fics / mini series ! ( get comfy 'cuz this one's a multi-parter !) :

♡ fire-breathing roommate chronicles !♡ when an injured, mysterious, and incredibly handsome dragon man blasts through the wall of your apartment, you decide to let him stay with you until he's fully healed. despite the struggles of co-habitating with a mythical beast, his mysterious past and annoyingly sharp tongue, you find you can't help feeling drawn to him..

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

ring pop proposal ♡ 1 2 3 ♡ the three times where mitsuki realizes that her katsuki is in love with you (and she realizes you love him back)

#the masterlist is here ! #cash's list <3

[katsukiizmoon]

╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊”Dirty whore, Eij saw you” + BKG꒱

『♡』 found this in my drafts from months ago, I think I was half asleep while writing on my phone… again.

『♡』 bakugou x reader, alcohol consumption, f! Reader, thigh riding, exhibitionism, Kirishima watches you rub your pussy on katsuki lol, ONE degradation mention only one tho, uhhh Mina talks about dick, yeah that’s just about it, idk how to finish this so I’ll just not !

You’re relaxing, spending the day together and having fun when the caramel pools of want soak into you.

Something about sitting on his lap, in your pretty little skirt, makes your mind wander. Your face heats, room feeling as if it’s risen a few degrees in temperature.

But you’re in public— sort of. His friends are there, you’re all at Kirishima’s place to have some dinner. Something about a barbecue.

To the outside eye this is a normal, pure, innocent thing to do. Sitting on your boyfriends lap is normal. It’s fine. It’s fine.

Your hips adjust a bit, clothed core directly pressing onto this thigh. Your leg bounces, trying to ignore the heat and slick beginning to bubble up. The thin, dark skirt is adjusted to cover a little more. Now no one can see the angle your hips are resting.

Kirishima gives you a big smile, handing a orange drink to the both of you.

“It’s nothing crazy, just a little slushee with some ciroc in it.” He reassures, and you take your first sip.

The sun begins to set, warm rays dying down as they begin to lay to rest for the night. People are slowly going home but the majority are still enjoying the get together.

Katsuki bounces his leg and oh. Oh fuck, that feels good. Your hips kick forward a little, pussy clenching on nothing.

You adjust yourself a little more. Clit beating like it has a pulse, and your boyfriend takes a sip of his drink. You know you’re wet, without even checking.

Kirishima grabs a snack platter now, placing it in front of all of you. You lean forward, hips hinging to grab some crackers and pepperoni. It rubs your clothed clit against him again and your thighs squeeze together a bit.

Katsuki’s thick thigh moves a bit again, dark sweatpants rubbing against you. You lean back, an arm of his finding purchase around your waist. You feed him a little ‘sandwich’ and continue talking to Mina.

She’s going on about a recent fling and giggles.

“His dick was like wayyyy big but he came two thrusts in. Talk about a disappointment!” The girl deemed “pinky” exasperates.

A couple people chuckle and you pipe up. “How big though? Like Eij’ or-“ the thigh bounces again and your mind races.

Luckily no one catches it, you don’t think. Mina starts going on about the guys cock. Talking about wanting it in her mouth, but he apparently also couldn’t be mean.

“I mean-“ she gestured length and girth with her hand “like that! I just wanted some good dick, but no!” Mina finishes, stuffing her face with a variety of snacks.

“Yeah then his dick is probably about as big as mine’ but some guys think size is everything. It ain’t. It’s a lot of work getting it to fit.” The red head offers another drink and you oblige.

Alcohol swims through your veins. It makes you bold- much too bold. Cause now your hips are rutting, lightly against the blonde beneath you.

His cock strains against the waistband of his sweatpants. Katsuki’s on cloud nine watching you, you think you’re getting away with it.

You are not.

He can feel your pussy leaking and clenching with all of his movements. So he jostles you again, reveling in the way you squeeze around nothing.

You’re soaking through your panties a bit, by now. Almost everyone has left and only you, him, and eij’ are remaining. Mina is on the couch knocked out.

His best friends eyes are half lidded while watching you. Katsuki knows you’ve already been found out. He’d been watching for the past hour, every time you’d squeeze your legs or move a little too much.

Kirishimas tongue swipes over his plush lips and he blinks slowly. Eyes flicking down to where the blondes leg now bounces up and down, lightly. Then, to your eyes, and finally to katsuki’s.

Katsuki takes note of the red head’s tent in his pants. Then watches a flush spread across his poor best friends face, and his own cock starts leaking precum. There will no doubt be a sticky mess beneath tanned skin, where the head of his cock has been nestled.

You push your hips down into him a little more and abuse your poor bottom lip with your teeth. It feels so good, your pussy is leaking everywhere. Nothing could possibly be better than this.

“We’re gonna stay here tonight, eij’. Had a few too many, don’t wanna drive.” Your boyfriend suggests and you all but whine.

“But babe we-“ He grabs your hips and pulls down, earning a whimper and a look of betrayal.

Kirishima shrugs, already deciding to clean up later rather than now. His eyes meet your boyfriends one last time before he stands up and begins walking towards the stairs.

Katsuki pulls you inside and up into the spare room. There his fingers force themselves between your legs to slick with your juice. He yanks them out and shoves them in your mouth.

“Dirty whore. Eij’ saw you.” He rasps.

Oh you are so fucked.

#bakugou x reader #masterlist #gochujang #Drabble #boba time #bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader smut

[sat0sugu-angst]

Fight Me, Fuck Me

a/n: happy valentiiiiiine's day!! Sorry this is a lil late i ended up picking up a shift at work so I wasn't able to finish it until this evening (which is kinda ironic ig but whatever). I seen a vid kinda similar (but less horny) on tt n couldn't resist imagining you and bkg getting in a fight on date night and lowkey being all hot n bothered with how yall are mean to each other 🙈 then w V-day around the corner I thought why the hell not lmao

wc: 3.5k

cw: afab!reader, reader is described as feminine but no pronouns are used, prohero!bkg, reader has a healing quirk and works at the hospital, yall can be toxic but that's why it's fun, established relationship, pet names (babe, my love), bakugo pays a lot of attention to your ass and thighs, reader and bkg are switchy asf, multiple orgasms, creampie, squirting, light spanking

all characters aged up +24

MDNI

---------------------------------------

You were silent as you continued doing your makeup, looking past yourself in the mirror to find red eyes focused on you.

Considering it was Katsuki, there wasn't a lot of aggression in his expression, but still, his eyes on you pissed you off. "Can I help you?" You asked, your attitude seeping into your tone.

He sneered, pushing off the bed and walking into the bathroom. "Not unless you can hurry that lil' ass up." He shot back. "We're gonna be late."

You and your boyfriend had impossible schedules. With you regularly pulling doubles at the hospital and Katsuki working his way up the hero rankings, you didn't often get a night off together for date night. Even the important couples holiday, Valentine's Day, was a day neither of you could take off. So this year, you decided to celebrate your own V-day, nearly two and a half weeks after the actual holiday.

The problem was you had mixed up your days, rushing home from the hospital in a flurry after getting a confirmation call that afternoon about the reservation from Katsuki’s assistant. You felt guilty, especially since he'd taken on planning the date night. But in typical Katsuki fashion, he'd blown up at you, yelling his head off as soon as you walked through the door. Then, despite your guilt, you were pissed at him.

"I told you on Tuesday that I was gonna be working today." You raised your brow, looking toward the bathroom with lips pursed. "If we're late, it's because you don't pay attention to anything I tell you."

"Babe, I already said I was sorry." You huff, unsatisfied. You turn back to your face in the mirror, reaching for your eyeliner. "And you told me that while I was in bed. You think I can remember the shit you tell me when I'm half asleep?"

You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your hand steady as you did your eyeliner fuming mad. "Nice apology, Katsuki." You said dryly.

He emerged from the bathroom, and as he passed behind you toward the door, you caught a whiff of the cologne you'd gotten him for his birthday. God, it smelled so fucking good. Normally when he wore it, it was only a matter of time before you were on top of him, unbuttoning his belt. Not now, though. Not unless you were gonna use the belt to strangle him. "Don't fuckin' talk to me about apologies. You're the one who forgot about tonight in the first place."

"I didn't forget!" You whip around to face him. You had crazy eyes, you knew, but fuck, your boyfriend made you feel crazy sometimes. "We had different dates down, and I couldn't exactly leave work immediately. There was a bus accident today. The hospital was overrun. I can't just leave when people need me."

"People are always gonna need you. They're always gonna need me. Doesn't mean we don't need each other." You stilled, recognizing your own words. You'd said them early in the relationship, the first time your jobs were making it hard to be together.

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty? I can't even count how many dates we've had to cancel because you had a mission! But oh, because it's my job, it's a bad thing to be dedicated? Do you not take my job seriously?"

He groaned. "Babe. Do you know what I had to do to make tonight special for us? The strings I had to pull to get us a spot at this restaurant for tonight? If we were just gonna sit at home in our fucking underwear, it wouldn't be a big deal."

You were glaring, but turned your attention back to the real task at hand. "You know what, I can't even fucking talk to you right now. I need to finish getting ready." You could argue, or you could do your makeup. You could not do both.

He let out a bitter laugh. "Well, thank god for that!" He yells back, walking out of the room. You flushed with anger, the sudden urge to throw something at him. But you couldn't chase after him to scream anymore; if you really were late, you'd never hear the end of it.

Ten minutes later, you were off, heading toward the restaurant in silence. Well, silent except for the occasional passive aggressive sighs and grumblings about the music you passed back and forth during the twenty minutes it took to get there.

When you got there, the host offered to take your coats, and Katsuki’s hands were on your shoulders, helping you out of yours. The rough pads of his fingertips grazed over your shoulder, and you were acutely aware of his breath ghosting along your neck.

Fuck, you think, annoyed at the way goosebumps rise along your skin, always like a live wire when it came to his touch. You had to fight your body's urge to lean into his touch, your anger still simmering but somehow making everything hotter, more volatile. You needed to keep it together. You couldn't let him win the argument because you were a little horny.

The restaurant was elegant, elevated. The low light was warm against the white tablecloths, and you were glad you had purchased a new dress for the occasion.

Katsuki was dressed to impress, too; charcoal colored trousers and a black cashmere sweater. When he took off his own coat, you had to remind yourself not to check him out. At least not obviously.

You followed the host toward your table, Katsuki behind you. “Are you gonna be pissy the whole night?” He asked as you were sitting down, realizing the attitude had yet to leave your expression. He couldn’t admit the reason it’d taken him a second to realize you were still pissed was because he’d been too focused on the way your dress hugged your curves, or how he had wanted to run his hands over your hips as he’d taken your coat. No, he wouldn’t admit the reason his ears were red was because he couldn’t stop thinking about dragging your ass to a restroom, or back to the car, to fuck you so hard you forget about why you were mad in the first place.

You sneered at him, about to pop off with an insult, and maybe a curse or three, but you were greeted quickly by your waiter.

Katsuki ordered wine for you, and a dirty martini for him.

When the waiter left, you shot a narrowed look to your boyfriend. “I’m not pissy.” It was a blatant lie, but you couldn't be bothered to care about being fair.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. You have been since you got home.”

“Well, I kinda had a shitty day,” you said, honestly. “Can’t imagine why you thought yelling at me would make me feel better.”

“Babe, really? You were supposed to be off today, then you text me that you were staying late. And you still stayed later than you said. I almost lost the fuckin’ table tryna change the reservation. We don't get to do this often, I'd like my fucking girlfriend to at least pretend to be excited about it.”

You groan a little, trying to not be loud and draw attention. This is not the place you wanted to have this argument, especially with someone as explosive as Katsuki, but you weren’t ready to concede, because if you did, he’d think he was right. “I told you since last week that I’d picked up the extra shift, on this day, and you didn’t say anything. I didn't do it to spite you, and I don’t really appreciate being blamed for an honest mistake as if I did it to piss you off. We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Yes, and this is just how I wanted to spend the evening with you.” He said dryly, sneering and turning his attention to the menu, effectively ending the conversation.

The rest of dinner, and even the drive home, was much of the same. Neither of you were able to drop the bickering long enough to really talk about anything. Over the course of the meal, one martini had turned into two, and you’d finished off the bottle of wine. You both were still mad, senses dulled, and emotions amplified. When you glared at him, you couldn’t help but focus on the shape of his eyes, how pretty he looked even when he was mad.

And all he could think about was how he wanted to fuck the attitude right out of you. Every sneer, every glare sent his way, pissed him off, but he couldn’t deny how fucking sexy you were when you were mad. Without even trying, you had him half hard in his pants, like he was some fucking teenager on his first date. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, even by the time you’d gotten home.

He rounded the car to I open the door for you, offering you a hand. You raised your brow at him, but let him help you out the car. Katsuki set his hand on the small of your back, just barely above your ass, only because he needed to touch you. He wanted to get you hot and bothered, until you were begging for him.

The heat from his hand did stir something low in your stomach, and you tried not to show how he affected you, not even looking in his direction. As his hand dropped from your back, his fingertips grazed your ass, and you rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door. “Don’t think that’s gonna make me forget I’m mad at you.”

"Tsk," he clicks his tongue at you, pushing open the door and flashing that smug smile he knew you couldn't resist. “You can be mad at me and still want me to fuck you.” He said shamelessly.

You felt your face heat at his boldness, and you had to look away, focusing on the door as he pushed it open. He moved, if only slightly, for you to walk in passed him, and you fought to maintain your composure. You loved it when he was like this, and he knew it was a sure way to get you in the mood and give whatever he asked of you.

He wasn’t wrong, either. You weren’t even really sure why you were still fighting, other than that you were being stubborn and, in a sick way, loved fighting with your boyfriend.

You walked past him, keeping your expression level. Katsuki watched you move through the house, following you into your shared bedroom. Despite your efforts, he saw right through you; he was certain he could have you apologizing and begging him to give you attention.

But you were determined, and when you wanted, could be even more stubborn than your boyfriend. Through the wine, or maybe because of it, you knew you’d succumb to him eventually. You always did, and happily. Tonight though, you wanted him to fold first.

So, you took your time getting undressed, going so far as to ask for Katsuki’s help unzipping your dress when you could've done it easily, letting it pool around your ankles before you stepping out of it. As you stood in front of your dresser, examining its contents and deciding what pajamas to slip into, Katsuki slipped his hands around your waist, settling on your hipbones. He pulled you back into him, and you felt him, hard, pressing again the small of your back.

You bit your lip, stifling the urge to lean into him, to rub against his erection, or worse, let out the sweet moan that threatened to expose you. After so many years together, he knew exactly what would make you crumble, and fuck, you almost did.

“I’m trying to get ready for bed.” You say instead, voice clipped. You reached for a pair of black shorts from the drawer, but his hand was covering yours, intertwining your fingers. Fighting to keep your expression even, you leveled a glare on him as he leaned over your shoulder. “You really wanna piss me off tonight, don’t you?”

“Definitely wanna do somethin’ to ya.” He shoots back quickly, the thumb at your hip rubbing slow circles into your skin, promising more. You narrowed your eyes. There was no way you could resist him, you needed to act quickly.

You turned around, looking up at him through your lashes. His hand was on your ass now, fingers squeezing and pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand flat on his stomach, trying to put some space between the two of you. You were flushed now, and he knew it. “C’mon,” his finger came up from under your chin, forcing you to look right at him as he smiled sweetly at you. “Don’t be a sore loser. Admit it. You’re turned on.”

You lean up onto your toes, pressing your lips against his, reaching down and untucking his shirt the best you could. He helped you, getting his belt undone and stepping backward out of his slacks as you pushed him back toward the bed.

He was pulling his shirt off as he sat on the edge of the bed, before pawing at your hips so you were sitting in his lap. The heat of him pressed right against you was delicious, and you rolled your hips against him. He swallowed your sighs as your tongues danced together, flushing with pride at the noises you pulled from him.

He was impatient, meeting the wave of your hips with thrusts of hie own. But this pesky fabric between the two of you. "Fuckin’ take these off already.” He grumbled, pulling at the fabric of your underwear where it covered your ass, and you wasted no time getting rid of your last layers of clothing.

He nearly cried out as you lowered yourself on top of him, leaning into you so that you could feel his heavy breath tickling your neck. You allowed yourself to enjoy it momentarily, before pushing his shoulder with a finger so he was laying back on the bed, his legs over the edge of the bed. You squeezed around the tip of his cock as you got used to the stretch. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” You hid your satisfied smile by leaning down, sucking kisses from his chest up his neck. With each hitch of his breath, every moan, you rewarded him, clenching around him, or shifting the angle of your hips, lowering down until he was pressed flush against you.

You were used to the stretch, but with the way he filled you, and the lovely friction against your clit, you could already feel how the tension in your stomach was ready to snap. You needed to calm down before you came undone, biting into his shoulder as you found the rhythm that would make him crumble.

The drag of his cock along your walls had you clenching, and then you started to feel the telltale signs that he was close. His fingers tightened on your hips, almost painfully so, unable to control the way he thrusted up into you.

"You gonna come?" You cooed, sitting up a little, pulling out slowly and dropping down on his cock. He looked so close, his eyes fluttering each time he filled you. His resolve was crumbling, too lost in the feeling of you around him to remember that you were the one who was supposed to be one begging.

"Fuck," He whimpered when you clenched around him. You settled your hands on either side of his chest, leaning forward so you could keep bouncing on his cock. "You wanna come, my love?" You ask, crumbling at how Katsuki blushes under you. He nods, melting for you. You lean forward, pressing a messy kiss against him. You were close, too. If you looked at that expression one more second, you'd come undone.

You shift the angle of your hips, and he let out a clumsy grunt, fingers squeezing the fat of your hips for some stability. "Fuck, baby, just like that. I'm gonna—"

That's when you lift your hips, until only his tip is inside you, and still. You reach down, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock. He cries out, a moan turned sour as deny him. You smile down at him, and he knew by that look in your eyes that he was in for it.

You leaned down, lips brushing over his slightly as you said, "I'd like to see you beg me to let you come." He couldn't even find it in himself to be mad, not with the way you looked above him, your hair messy from him running his fingers through it, the light sheen of sweat on your skin from riding him so well. He doesn't care who was supposed to punish who, not when he was so close to coming, not if all it would take was a little begging.

You continued edging him, bouncing up and down on him until he got close, then cockwarming him until he calmed down. His sweet pleas grew more desperate. You almost let him when you came yourself, squeezing around him uncontrollably as you stilled on top of him to ride out your orgasm, and he nearly lost it at the feel of you so tight around him.

But even though you came, you weren't done with him, continuing to roll your hips over him, looking right into his eyes as you fuck him.

He has tears pricking his eyes, and he's whimpering. “Baby, please. Please let me come. I’m fucking sorry for yelling at you today. I got lost in wanting things to be perfect, but I was an ass for getting mad.” Your expression softens for your boyfriend, and before you can even speak, he’s leaning in. His kiss is rough, hurried, and he’s thrusting up into you harder now than before, shifting so he hits that spot that has you moaning into his mouth. Unexpectedly, you fall into your next orgasm, and he feels you clenching. “Baby, please can I come?”

Words elude you, so you simply nod, leaning against his chest and resting your hands on his shoulders, bracing yourself as he uses you to finish. He’s twitching inside you, and after only a couple more thrusts, you feel his warmth flood your cunt, as he fucks you through both your orgasms.

You’re breathing heavily, body feeling heavy as you lay on top of him, hands still resting on your ass, holding you against him. You feel his cum, and yours, seep out of you onto him, but he makes no move to get up to clean.

“I’m sorry, too.” You say softly, tracing your finger over his chest. You look up at him, and his gaze is already on you. “I was being kind of a bitch. I just…felt guilty, for almost ruining tonight, but it was easier to be mad at you than admit I messed up.” You feel your cheeks heat, looking away from him and resting your ear against his chest. “So, I’m sorry for being so sour all night. And for getting the day wrong.”

He rolls you both over, easily moving you both so your head was back against the pillows, still snuggly pressed inside you. Still hard, you realize. “Cute apology, but I can’t let you off that easy. You were a bitch tonight.” His eyes shine wickedly, his smirk smug as he pulls slowly out of you. You whine at the lovely drag of his cock along your walls.

He leans down and, kissing you hard, knocks the breath out of you with the way he thrusts back into you. “I'm not done with you, yet." He thrusted into you again again, hitting that spot that had you already craving a third orgasm.

You’re gasping curses, then his name, as he fucks you, slowly but with strength and precision. You couldn't help digging your nails into his back as you feel the first wave of your orgasm. "Fuck, I'm gonna come again." You say breathlessly, and bite into his neck as you tug on the hair at the nape of his neck right as you come. You feel a rush of liquid, making a mess between your thighs and dripping down your ass, ruining the sheets beneath you.

The way you're clenching around him has him seeing stars, and feeling you squirt around him spurs him into his next orgasm, keeping himself buried in you as he cums. You pull him in for a kiss as he fills you, his lips grounding you as you come down, chests heaving against each other.

~~~

After showering and changing the sheets, you’re back in bed, curled up into his side and playing with his hair. You’re both smiling, fucked out and tired, though unwilling to end the night. “We should just sync our calendars.” You say finally. “That way we won’t get anything confused, and we can avoid pissing each other off.”

His hand, which had settled on your hip, landed a couple light smacks on your ass. “I don’t think I mind us pissing each other off. Not with the way you fight.”

You roll your eyes, grinning even as your face heats. “Please, you were the one who couldn’t stop pawing at me when we got home.”

He snorts. “You liked it,”

“Yeah,” you say absently, eyes growing heavy. “I guess if we settle our arguments like that, I don’t mind getting into a fight every now and then.”

---------------------------------------

a/n: thanks so much for reading! I hope you like this spicy little valentine's treat <3 if you did, pls lmk with rbs and comments! happy v-day <3

taglist: @asmaechan @animexholic @justanothernpcartist @inumakicanrailme

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo smut #mha bakugou #mha smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x chubby reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha smut

[kiisaes]

I don't think there will ever be a better redemption character than bkg and I'm genuinely being so serious. like not really and I'm sure there's a lot of great examples but bkg's arc is so complete. it's so realized and thematically perfect and consistent and there's truly nothing better than watching this dude change throughout the years. like being forced to shift his point of view and realize that he's not the top of the world and have the entire story humble him relentlessly the MOMENT he got to ua. how he represents the quirk majority and how his bad behavior mirrored how society treated those lesser than and how in order to break from that mindset, in order to be a better hero, he had to go through his own personal growth. how his superiority complex is infinitely fueled by his inferiority complex and vice versa and how both of those complexes were jumpstarted by his feelings for deku. how he tried struggling against change before reluctantly working alongside it, then accepting it, then surrendering himself to it, then dying by it. he'd rather die than go back to his old ways, he'd rather die than view deku as any less of a necessity. he is always challenged, always working so hard, always wanting to be the best and the narrative hates him and his past actions so much but he prevails anyway. this dude sucked, yeah, but his development is one of the most satisfying parts of reading this manga. anyone with a functioning brain knows this dude isn't the same as he was from the start and even if he died a fucking year ago I can honestly rest easy knowing that he died a changed man. he's so good. hes so real. he's so honest and true and his last thoughts feel like a plea from the void and a final hurrah all the same

like just look at this, man. (first anniversary piece -> most recent anniversary piece)

he might have been the jerkiest jerkwad in the first season but he is anything but that in the latest

#getting emotional about Him again #i have so many thoughts about bkg it's actually insane. i need help #i started an entire bkg presentation nearly 2 years ago and someday ill finish it. no i wont. it will be too long to finish #but im just saying even if hori didnt plan for this development from the start #he fucking pulled through #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #becki rambles about stuff

[squishytenya]

semblance of touch

prologue / part two

pairing - bakugou x gn!reader

warnings - swearing, bkg uses princess as a nickname but in a gn way, enemies to lovers, minor injuries, hospital setting briefly (title from sedated by hozier)

By the time you had pulled on your jacket and caught up with him, the blonde was already at the front of the hospital. He took one look at you and scowled. Scoffing, you pushed past him and towards the street you knew led towards your shared dorms. 

Your stomping was interrupted by a sharp pain in your chest. Grunting, you paused and waited for the annoyingly cocky blonde to catch up with you. 

“Hurt, Didn't it?”

You sucked on your teeth. Was he going to be so goddamn annoying the entire time? You might put everyone out of their misery and smother him before the quirk even has time to run its course. 

You spun on your heel, pressing your index finger to his annoyingly muscled chest. 

“Listen, I know you don’t like me, I don’t know what I did to you but could you try not to be a giant dick for this please” you hissed at him. 

He dragged his tongue across his teeth, peering down at you. The scowl on his face wasn’t promising but you were determined not to break under his gaze. You could give as good as you got and he was going to be perfectly aware of that by the end of this whole thing. 

He folded. 

“Fine.”

“Thank you” you huffed, spinning around again.

This time you tried not to stray too far from him. 

— 

“We’re gonna have to move you to his room”

Your jaw dropped. Bakugou and you had come to Aizawa’s office to try and look for some sort of fix for the situation. Ripping a bite from your sandwich, you clenched your hands behind your back. It was clear that your angry blonde companion wasn’t too happy about this turn of events either - if his smoking palms were any indication.

“What do you mean? There’s a spare room on his floor” you stuttered, “it’s literally right next to him why can’t I stay there?”

Your professor grumbled, leaning forward in his chair. His black hair looked tousled and his eye bags seemed even bigger than usual - something you hadn’t thought possible until this moment. Because you and Bakugou were his students, despite you both being adults, you were still technically under his guidance and that meant he had to deal with the technicalities of the situation you had landed yourself in. 

“It’s not furnished and the bathroom is on the side of Bakugou’s room” he explained, “even if you moved your bed to the back wall you wouldn’t be close enough” 

You gnawed on your lip and waited for your teacher to continue. 

“We don’t know how long this is going to take to sort, it’s not worth moving the entire dorm layout if it’s going to be fixed in the next couple of days”

“What do you mean days?” came a gruff voice from behind you. 

You grimaced as you were reminded of just who your new roomie was. 

“We thought this was a 24-hour deal, sensei” you scrambled to cover for your counterparts rudeness.

Aizawa quirked a brow at you - the closest to amusement you think you’ve seen on him. Shifting on your feet, you decided that avoiding eye contact would be the best idea. 

“We don’t know that, none of the others have seen any progress so you're just going to have to deal with it” Aizawa’s eyes glowed slightly on the last few syllables.

Even though his annoyance wasn’t directed at you, you still shivered under its weight. He was very obviously tired so if Katsuki could just leave it alone, you could finally sort your shit out. 

“Your things are being moved as we speak,” Aizawa grumbled. 

Cringing once again, you nodded at your teacher and removed yourself from the situation, much to your own relief. Usually, you had no problem being a slight annoyance to the man - he had multiple years to get used to you. But you were tired, and so was he, so you would have to save your annoyance for your lovely new best friend. 

“Come on then dumbass, you smell like hospital and it’s making me retch”

You gaped at Bakugou’s comment, dragging your arm up to your face to smell it. By the time you realised he was pulling your leg, the taller boy was halfway to the elevator and dangerously close to 8ft away. 

“Look,” you started, “if this is gonna work, you’re gonna have to slow the fuck down”

You emphasised the last word, slapping your hand on the blonde’s bare shoulder. A zap of electricity travelled up your arm and through your body, leaving that tingly warmth in its place. It flowed through your body like the drip of honey in your veins. The sensation caused you to let out an embarrassing whimper/gasp combination and you felt your face heat up in response to it. 

Katsuki obviously felt it too, his body freezing up under your touch. You saw a shiver travel through his body, seemingly emerging from where your palm laid across his tan skin. A breathy sound escaped his nose. 

You both stood in the hall, frozen in place. 

“Uh,” you forced out, “we should really… um- go to the dorm”

It took Katsuki a second to regain his composure but he eventually returned to his gruff, standoffish self and shrugged your touch off of his skin. Grumbling, he continued down the hall towards what was now your combined bedroom. 

— 

The room was still very distinctly Bakugou. It was fairly plain, blue and grey bed sheets and very few posters. There was some skincare on the desk next to his bed and a fair collection of books tucked neatly into a bookshelf across the room from his bed. There were a few photos hung on the wall. They featured a brunette man with glasses and a woman that looked like an older, female version of the man that stood in the room with you. Bakugou’s parents, you assumed. 

What really surprised you was the simple white plant pot on his window. The little purple flowers were no bigger than an inch in diameter but they seemed perfectly pruned, not a leaf or petal out of place or a sun spot in sight. They added some colour to the room - something it was sorely missing. 

The only thing that really seemed out of place was the camp bed that had been haphazardly set up in the centre of the room. It had your bedsheets on it but there was nothing else indicating it belonged to you. You understood why this couldn't have been done in your room, the girls had a lot more protests to the loudmouth man next to you living in their side of the dorm than the three guys did to having you around. Shouji was nice enough, quiet but that was fine with you. Kirishima was already one of your close friends so it was more of a help than a hindrance to have him around - especially for him to inevitably play mediator between you and your brand new roommate. 

“Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or go shower?” 

You sucked on your teeth. 

“I was taking in my new prison cell, if you must know,” you bit back at him. 

He raised his hands in surrender. 

“Whatever you want princess, you still smell like rubbing alcohol though” 

You rubbed a hand up your arms uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with the man in front of you. 

“They haven’t brought my clothes over yet”

He stretched his neck to the side, dragging a wide hand down the side of it and groaning. Then, a hand appeared in front of your face. 

“Keys. I’ll get Kirishima to go get your damn clothes” he grumbled. 

You shyly dropped your keys in his hand. Letting him go through your shit didn’t appeal to you too much, but a nice, warm shower certainly did. At this point, you just wanted to crawl into the shitty camp bed and pass out until the sunrise.

Calloused hands grabbed the keys from yours, and then he was gone. You adjusted your jaw, sucking on your tongue to prevent a snarky comment escaping your mouth. Casting your eyes to his open ensuite door, the white of the shower towels glinted in the bedroom light and you felt the sweet promise of cleanliness clear your stress from your shoulders. 

And you were correct. The warm spray of the shower washed away whatever dirt from the fight hadn’t been cleaned off at the hospital and you felt your tense muscles unfurl under your skin. The steam even calmed the thrumming burn under your skin from Bakugou going just over your distance threshold. You didn’t have a wash cloth here yet, but Bakugou at the very least wasn’t a 4-in-1 body wash-shampoo-kitchen-sink kinda guy. Small victories, you supposed.

The knock at the bathroom door came way too quickly for your liking. Leaning out of the shower, you cracked open the door just enough for a tan hand to drop a towel on the floor. 

What a gentleman. 

If you rolled your eyes any more today they were gonna fall out of your head. At least the burning in your chest lessened when he returned to the dorm. It was an odd thing, to find comfort in his presence when he annoyed you so much in every other aspect. Stupid quirk. Huh, finding comfort in Bakugou - maybe a side effect of the quirk was going insane. You mentally wave goodbye to your hero career and let the image of your and Bakugou’s matching padded cells flood your brain. 

The chuckle you let out wasn’t quiet. You bit your lip to stop yourself sounding like a crazy person. There was no need to give Bakugou more ammo than he already had on you. 

“The fuck are you laughing at?”

You bit your lip to stifle a giggle again. This really wasn’t the time for you to start finding stuff funny. 

Wrapping the red towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom - fully expecting a pile of clothes to be waiting for you. 

Instead, it was just Bakugou sitting on the bed. Alone. 

Red eyes danced up your figure, tracing the outline of your waist and hips under the towel wrapped around your body. The red fabric only covered you from your chest to mid thigh and left a sizable amount of both peeking out either end. The water and steam made your skin supple and it seemed to glow under the warm lighting of his room. You felt your face heat up under his watchful eyes and the room seemed to heat up several degrees in the few seconds he had been dragging his eyes up and down your body. 

His lidded eyes finally met yours, peering up at you from between his dark lashes. It felt like they were looking straight through you, into your head and your exact thoughts on the situation. Bakugou shifted, as if to move towards you. 

Knock knock. 

You started, hand gripped your towel tighter against your chest. The noise had knocked you both out of whatever trace you had fallen into and the awkward energy from earlier returned tenfold. 

“Hey dude, I got the clothes you asked for” Kirishima’s enthusiastic voice echoed from behind the thin wood of the door, “I didn’t know what to get so I kinda grabbed a bunch.”

“Leave them by the door”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as he got up, opening the door and throwing your clothes on the bed where his body had been not ten seconds earlier. Grumbling, he left and slammed the door behind him. 

“Tell me when you’re dressed or whatever.”

And with that, you were alone, wondering what the hell had just happened. 

thank you for reading! if you want to be added to the taglist for the whole series, or just Bakugou's parts lmk <3 reblogs and comments are appreciated

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou angst #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha angst

[kyojurismo]

tags : fem!reader, spider-man au, reader gets kidnapped by a criminal, mention of injuries and blood, first kiss, bkg fell first & i got a little carried away alright bear w me.

notes : i just can’t help it, i had to write something about him as spider-man and here we are. across the spider-verse motivated me even more i guess . . . anyway, enjoy !! <3

special tag : @doumadono ♡

part two

spider-man!bakugo who happens to be your classmate, you find yourself study with him since he’s very smart and doesn’t even has to try. the annoying part? he’s popular and girls are all over him, so you’re often disturbed during your studying sessions.

spider-man!bakugo who starts developing feelings for you, finds himself staring at you as you focus on your notes and books, follows your figure in the corridors making sure you’re okay.

spider-man!bakugo who often finds himself checking on you while doing his usual patrols. you never notice him of course, he makes sure of it.

spider-man!bakugo who one day happens to hear you talking about him— well, about spider-man. he’s curious to hear your opinion about him.

“well, i’m glad someone is out there helping capturing criminals, but . . .” your friend shrugs, searching another article about spider-man. “look. he almost let this poor man fall from a balcony while trying to stop this criminal,” she points out.

you chuckle at her words, surprising her. “he can’t control civilians’ reactions, y’know. i think he’s doing a good work and he makes me feel more safe when i walk alone at night,” you confess, smiling. “we shouldn’t be too judgemental, i’m sure he’s doing his best.”

after hearing your words bakugo covers his mouth with his palm in attempt to hide his growing smile.

spider-man!bakugo who discovers some criminal kidnapped you and is using you against the police. he’s quick to arrive to the scene and enter inside the building, careful to not being noticed by the criminal pointing a gun to your head.

“please, lemme go!” you cry as you grip the criminal’s arm desperately, tears rushing down your warm cheeks. you can feel he is nervous, and that’s not good at all. he would probably shoot you if the police tries to come inside.

“they saw my face! i’m fucked! shit, i’m so fucked!” he screamed, shaking you and pushing the gun against your temple more harshly.

bakugo crawls on the ceiling, watching closely. he then quickly uses his web to disarm the man, immobilising him to the ground and then reach your shaking figure. “are you hurt?” he asks you, appearing in front of you.

“s-spider-man?” you raise your hands to touch his chest and shoulders to make sure he’s real and you’re not already dead or something. “yeah, it’s me. did he hurt you?” he sounds anxious, even though you seemed alright.

“uh i… yeah, i’m okay,” you check your figure and you don’t see any trace of blood or anything, then you raise your eyes to look at his masked face. “good. i gotta go now,” he hears the police starting to enter inside and he’s quick to rush through the back to exit the building.

“w-wait!” you turn and watch him, once his head turn to look at you you speak again. “thank you for saving me,” you smile at him. bakugo nods and then runs away, without being noticed by the police.

you couldn’t see it because of the mask, but katsuki smiled back at you.

spider-man!bakugo who feels good at the thought of being out there to protect you, to save you if needed. he has another reason to fight for his city.

spider-man!bakugo who bumped into you while running away from a scene after he succeeded in capturing the criminal. “careful, princess!” he shouts before running past you, before using his web to swing away. you feel your heart skipping a beat at the petname.

spider-man!bakugo who’s constantly debating about telling you his true identity, hoping that it would provide him at least a chance to be with you but also remember that it would put you in danger.

spider-man!bakugo who one night jumped into your window, falling on the floor and hitting your desk. you scream as you jump to your feet, scanning the figure lying on your floor… bleeding.

“oh my god… can you… hey!” you kneel beside him, checking the side of his stomach bleeding. you were about to remove his mask, as a way to help him breathing better but he’s quick to grab your wrist, almost scaring you. “don’t.”

you gulp and simply get up, reaching the bathroom and looking for a first aid kit. then you rush back into your room to medicate him. “what happened?” you ask as you start working on the injury. “i got shot, but the bullet passed through so it’s fine,” his voice is strained and visibly in pain but he doesn’t flinch as you medicate him. “it’s fine?! it seems like you’re bleeding to death!”

bakugo’s eyes search for your face and notices you’re actually worried about him. once you’re done you help him to your bed, helping him lying comfortably enough. you were lucky your parents weren’t home that night.

“i’m sorry,” he then speaks as you go back to your desk. “ah? sorry for what?” you turn your head for a moment, seeing spider-man lying in your bed was truly a sight. “coming to you, entering out of nowhere.”

you shake your head and then try to focus on the rest of your homework. you can feel him stare at your figure and it distracts you a bit, so you sigh and close your books a bit too loudly as you cringe. you get up and go check on him again, when you try to remove his mask once more he flinches away, stopping you.

“i need to check if you have a fever,” you explain, staring down at him. “i’m totally fine,” he shrugs and tries to sound convincing enough. “sorry, but i don’t really trust the word of a masked vigilante with a very bad injury lying in my bed.”

“i can lie on the floor if you prefer,” he tries to joke before grabbing your wrists as you try again. “okay, listen… you take it off while i keep my eyes closed and then i touch your forehead, what about it?” you try, just wanting to make sure he doesn’t have any infection from the injury. he seems to be thinking about before giving up. “hm.”

you close your eyes and wait for him to take the mask off, then you feel him guiding your hand to his forehead. you sigh in relief as you confirm that he’s alright. you retrieve your hand and wait for a couple of moments. “can i open my eyes now?” you ask him, a bit uncomfortable now that you couldn’t see what he was up to. “not yet.”

his voice is much closer than before and you then feel his breath fanning over you cheek. you shiver as his hand reached for your face and cupped your cheek. your heart starts beating so fast it almost jumps out of your chest before he leans closer and kisses your lips, the kiss lasts for a few seconds before he pulls away and lies back down, his face now fully covered.

you open your eyes and glance at him before turning around, trying to hide the embarrassment and the excitement. bakugo smirks from under the mask before closing his eyes, satisfied with his actions.

spider-man!bakugo who notices you’re trying to find out the real identity of spider-man, trying to see if it’s someone from your school. he’s sure you will never find out, he acts completely different when he’s spider-man. his secret is safe . . . right?

#📂 — writing !! #spider man au #spider man!bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo drabble #katsuki bakugo blurb #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo fanfic #mha bakugou #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfic

[katscki]

Sleepy

A/N: Thinking about Bakugou and his sleepy gf it’s been plaguing my mind 🏋🏻‍♀️🙌🏼💪🏼

masterlist

cw: SUPA SOFT BKG AHHH

no wc cause i wrote this straight into tumbler and i do not feel like copying and pasting it in word

also not edited so if grammar or spelling is shit i am sorry i will prolly fix it in study hall😆🙌🏼

He loves it when you get like this, all cuddly and cute like a little puppy dog. You usually wake up a bit late not being a morning person and all but today Katsuki thought it might be fun to make breakfast together. Dinners you’ve done, lunch you’ve done, but never breakfast. He will always have it finished by the time you wake up so you can feed your empty belly after a good nights sleep.

He walks around to your side of the bed, it being around 6 am at this point, and starts to gently card his finger through your hair.

“C’mon baby, gonna make breakfast together. How’s that sound?” He speaks softly.

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of him, looking completely disoriented as you cuddle deeper into your cozy sheets.

“Tired,” You speak with a soft pout and furrowed brows. God could you be any cuter, “no sun,” you continued, slurring your words.

“Well baby, he’s not up yet.” He jokes as you tighten your hugging hold on his pillow since he got up.

“Can you sit up for me, pretty?” You do as he says, slowly sitting up with blankets still draped around you. “Arms up.” he speaks one last time before he picks you up placing your arms around his neck and legs around his waist.

You were absolutely weightless to him, he rested one hand securely across your back while the other remained free to hold onto the banister of the stairs. And if he thought you couldn’t get any more adorable he had another thing coming. Just as he was about to set you up on the kitchen counter, you snuggle your head into his chest and his heart melts completely. Bakugou decides that he can hold you for a little while longer while your still trying to wake up.

So there you are in the kitchen, him really doing most of the cooking and you there for moral support. You’re still seated on the counter, tired, but being there nevertheless means the world to him. You could have said you wanted to sleep in today and he would have listened. You could have said you weren’t hungry yet and made breakfast for himself. But you were sleepy and still got up to be with him.

As he works around making the food he never strays too far away you, giving you lingering touches, sometimes taking a break to let your form cuddle into his before he goes back to the cooking. Katsuki let’s you taste the food and give him feedback even if you still aren’t completely coherent yet.

Overall he loves times like these. The ones where you’re clingy and not in a way most guys would hate. But the times where you feel like you need to be touching him and if you aren’t you will pout and whine for him to come back. To which he always does because he feels the same as you.

#mha #bakugou fluff #bakugou #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha #katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #fanfic

[ms0milk]

𝟗 | 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You are mine."

no cw bkg is no poet laureate. the curtain falls on y/n's business formal era. a long overdue confrontation, an eerie garden, IV drip of catharsis, romance a la knock down drag out fight, and an unexpected guest. memories of Alderan monsoons. we're halfway through, folks. the prince and his guard are more similar than they'd like to admit 5.8k

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glossary lmao featherbit is what happens when you're shooting with feather fletching (not plastic) and you don't move the thumb supporting the arrow out of the way fast enough. the feathers move so fast they slice your hand-- i once had to pull some out of my bone, they really get in there. i practiced archery with a bunch of old women as a kid so this might be their special term and not technically accurate. not sure, pls enjoy :)

In the interim between spring and summer, there are a few weeks filled with rage. Fights break out in the kitchens, porcelain shatters at the market. Children used to bumps and bruises suddenly snap the necks off their dolls in the moments after stubbing toes or pinching fingers.

The string of your bow snapped in a tight draw this past spring, while you were training in the forests beyond Aldera’s gates. The nocked arrow bucked sideways with no clear direction and panicked into the ground a few feet away but not so aimlessly that it didn’t catch your bowhand with its fletching first. You screamed that day, for the first time you ever remember and not because it hurt. A quirk like a sneeze maybe. You screamed again, something pent-up and ferocious, after biting the feathers from the thick of your thumb and then calmly packed up to go home.

When misfortunes pile up, there isn’t a person alive that won’t eventually snap. That’s what May is for, that’s all May is for. Those few weeks before summer are especially unlucky and nothing else, and the rage doesn’t mean a thing. Takoba is a vacuum and the prince is fire in a jar, nothing else. It doesn’t mean anything that your fingers are twitching, or that it’s November.

In the sandpit of Aizawa’s training quarters, Takoban soldiers watch on as Uraraka finally convinces you to shoot for her. They whisper on the sidelines sipping from their waterskins, chatting, gossiping all half dressed in some combination of armor and day clothes, or some just look. More than a few only watch you, somewhat apprehensive of the Alderan girl who fired into a crowd with no discipline from Aizawa.

In fact, the Master watches the pit now from his office above the sprawling arena, nursing black tea and a scowl.

You ready a borrowed bow. It’s so natural, the weight of the weapon in your bicep and the sting of fresh strings under your fingertips. “This one’s mine!” Uraraka beams while you repeatedly draw the empty string to your cheek and lower it again for adjustments, “I’m a terrible shot so it doesn’t get much use.”

For a week it’s been this. Training with the timid soldiers and their sweet apprentice captain. Declining a great many invitations from Denki and Mina to “sleepover.” Rising earlier than dawn, banishing the guard sent to watch your door and searching again for your prince. Avoiding the kitchens. Memorizing every corner of the seashell castle in cold autumnal hallways, its sprawling outer walkways battered by sea air, and studying all of the history parsed out in seedsized carvings along odd walls.

For someone so loud, your prince is adept at hiding. For someone so highly trained, your ego cannot take much more of this. Every morning spent searching for someone who thinks nothing of you unless it is to torment.

When the prince is at home he hardly dresses daintily, opting instead for hunting vests and all their loops and hooks for weapons. He wears gold and furs at home, so do you. In Takoba he wears stiff linens with silver climbing from the cuffs. Little blue bows to tie closed his tunic like a viscous babydoll. If you couldn’t still feel his hands at your throat you would laugh.

Shinsou is off running errands for his master and so your only other companion is Sero, gangly as ever, and grinning sleepily as he watches beside Uraraka and her men. “I haven’t seen you shoot in years, Y/n!”

“Why have you seen me shoot at all?” You murmur as you reach into the quiver at your hip to select an arrow. There’s no gallery in Jeanist’s arena at home so unless a lord or lady would like to stand amongst sparring soldiers there is no place to watch you train.

You finger through the decorative fletching and select the one that reminds you most of your queen. Oilslick green feathers, every shimmering color of a peacock sewn to a white birch shaft.

Everyday you find him at lunch, your prince and his friends, growling and smiling through their food in the Great Hall with all the other hundreds of castle staff taking meals. Everyday you station yourself outside the Hall, safe from lunch rush crowds, and everyday he must pass you to leave. You can follow him then. Noon is when you begin your shift. He doesn’t grunt or rumble or speak a single word. Not once all week has he looked at you and no longer do you want to watch him.

Uraraka beams, “Bullseye and lunch is on me!”

“Lunch is free,” you whisper through the draw of your nicely nocked arrow. The bowstrings sit heavy under your fingers as you pull strength to your shoulders in Alderan form. Hips grounded, back straight, shoulders bulging under the pressure, familiar and sore is the draw of a bow and arrow.

Hands trembling, sweat pooling, legs clenched and chest heaving, no matter how often you work your body to exhaustion you can feel him near you. Baths and laundry do not wash away the too soft touch of his hands. Even if it’s only to yawn– to blink– each time your eyes close the prince’s flushed face comes to you, and even more haunting than that is how cold you feel when those same eyes open again. How pitiful your appetite for remembering humiliation. You ready your body to shoot.

You haven’t trained for fifteen years just to miss a shot in front of foreign company. It’s perfect, you are perfect, you know exactly where this arrow will land and how to get it there, like a magnet the arrowhead screams bullseye. You draw tighter, pull the green fletching close enough to your cheek that it’ll cut you on release because the pain will distract from the rock between your ribs, the suffocating anguish tucked under your heart. Why can’t you ever shake him? It helps to hold your breath.

Prince Bakugou's eyes haven’t changed a single time in his life. Wet and worried in a violent carriage. Disinterested in passing on your way to class, bored and rolling when his mother stops to speak with you. Conceited around a campfire. Viscously entertained in windy hallways. No matter what they’re looking at, you will never mistake them, no matter where he is you will find them.

He’s watching you somehow now, you can feel it.

“Kats wait, look!” Sero hollers just loudly enough that you’re shaken from the memories and again focus on aiming. By now the soldiers around him grow impatient and they groan when Sero shouts again, “drinks‘er on Ochako if Y/n hits the mark!”

“I did not say that.”

Above the arena, beside Aizawa’s office, a great distance away, is a little blue balcony and its little blue princess. Right beside her, your prince glowers and slows to a halt as she does. It is well before noon.

Uraraka tries to calm the growing excitement from the crowd, “Princess Fuyumi, please note I said no such thing!” But her soldiers only chuckle and whistle when the princess pretends not to hear her.

What are they doing together? You flex the tips of your fingers just enough to cause pain. Bakugou is not merry, he swells too wide without his cape, he is not with his Champion and so he is not safe and gods how he sucks the soul from a room.

Steady.

Blood red eyes glow from under his fair hair as they always do and they brand you like two pinpoint spotlights. He doesn’t pay attention to Sero chiding or Uraraka bemoaning her wallet or the princess waving her lacey handkerchief beside him. He only watches you.

Smooth pressure like a papercut at your cheekbone and the tension in your shoulders disappears as it always does when an arrow goes flying. Release. For a second you do think you smile.

Perfect center. Finally you breathe again when the room bursts into laughter and clapping, lowering your aiming fingers from your cheek when you look up to the balcony. Amid the cheers, Uraraka is the only one to notice oilslick green blooming from the side of your thumb. Blood begins to pour when you make a point to turn, and to bow deeply to the observing princess while Bakugou glares silently beside her. His charged stare closes the noisy distance. It vibrates the feathers that pierce your flesh.

“I suppose we already knew you were an excellent shot!” Fuyumi cups her hands around her mouth so that you can hear the smile in her words.

Overlapping with her glow, savage eyes drink your blood– the blood that seeps between your fingers as you cup your featherbit hand and your weapon with the other and bow even slightly deeper before rising, weeping wound tucked politely behind your back, to catch the your golden prince leading the princess away.

Bakugou skips lunch today. He skips second lunch and tea and attends not a single meeting, and so you spend your entire wretched day searching for him.

What you would have given to stay in Uraraka’s training pit. To spread out in the sand and watch the soldiers laugh and spar while she bandaged your hand. While she scolded you lightly and slipped you sweet cookies to help with the bloodloss. Instead you left with Sero at lunchtime as you always do, to collect your prince from his hiding place.

The rock of your ribs turns to lead when relief hits you before worry. When Bakugou’s golden head doesn’t appear among his friends at their regular table. You cannot know rest until you know where he is and once you find him you will never know rest again.

You’re wandering now like you have been for hours, without direction from one twinkling meeting room to the next. From silly tea parlors, to the armories, to cartography offices, all empty of the Alderan Prince.

You don’t miss your mother often. In fact, there’s a warm wet hole where her face should be when you think back on golden fields and cotton aprons. You do miss Aldera, obviously you do, and with each mission’s obstacle it becomes more and more clear that home will never be what you left it as. Home will never again be dazzling your queen or hunting with your master, it will be dousing the prince’s flames. Aldera will never again be verdant and protective, it will be Bakugou’s hands on your throat and hips and cheeks and surely he will kill you.

Passing a tidying chambermaid or lazing guard, Takoba Castle has opened up. The prince’s chambers still evade you, but you’re no longer lost in chilly halls or tripping on the odd floor runner. Staff don’t stare anymore. A lord or lady might shirk away from your halberd but they don’t seem too concerned with the woman attached to it. Takoba is getting quieter. In your prince’s distance this week something like peace grows.

A collection of hardly audible voices are the first things to stir the castle in hours and you turn under the stairwell archway to mark where they come from. It’s easily evening now, cold sunsets tipping through windows you happen to pass.

“No– of course I will, but I don’t think–”

“Not for you to think about.”

Winding soft around nothing the voices become distinctly two. One of them is clearly a growling Alderan and as you climb up the tight butlers’ stairwell, the grandeur of an East Wing walkway spills over your face with that same sleepy sun. Seaglass Hall. A mnemonic device from your week of wandering; the ceiling of this appendage hallway like so many others in the castle is made of bottled glass, but in the east, only in the east, is it in shades of seafoam green.

Your eyes land squarely on Prince Bakugou, peering startled into the stairwell’s darkness and framed by the archway you trudge through. You’re not sure how much longer you can survive the sight of your jewelry twinkling in his ears. His gold is awash in soft greens beside Deku, who sinks into the shadows under such cool-toned light and you speak before thinking while dusting your hands on your trousers, “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

Bakugou hasn’t so much as frowned at you since the incident in the kitchens. Besides the archery demonstration this morning, he hasn’t even flicked his hateful eyes in your direction. He hides, he’s hiding, the way he’s kept to himself this week is different than dislike and now the death of your peace is palpable.

You pretend not to feel your pulse jump when his lips part, before he remembers that you are no longer worth speaking to. Is that what he’s thinking as his jaw clenches? As he rights himself from standing casually with Deku to his usual intimidating loom. As his pretty red eyes drift through the empty hallway and do a terrible job of hiding his frustration with your words.

There is a crater distance between you and family, between you and any semblance of familiar and soft or vulnerable and whose fault is that? So often it’s no one’s– it’s the queen and her station, it’s Jeanist and his rank, it’s your dead mother, it's the uniform you wear and the eyes that interpret it, it’s the soldiers who drink together and who salute when you walk past, sometimes it’s the color red, sometimes it’s recovering from an injury, it’s in the sympathy of strangers, it’s in your muscles and your favorite weapons and your inability to lose.

Even if only for a second, down the hallway, as you move forward Bakugou seems to lean back.

Deku perks up behind the broad frame of your prince who has begun to puff like a cat in the lengthy silence, and even though you haven’t had much of a chance to speak with the little Champion past your accidental spat in the throne room he doesn’t seem bothered by the memory or by the prince who seethes as he’s talked over.

“He’s all yours Y/n! I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were looking for him.”

Where Bakugou should have snapped or snatched, he only stills. No barking, not even a cross of his arms. He turns his head away as you approach as if pretending to roll his eyes but the prince you know doesn’t shrink in his anger. If he truly wanted you to meet his irritation all he’d need to do is blink. All else fails, he could just grab you again– a puppet on strings pulled too close and smile as you fall to pieces. It worked so well last time.

All three of you seem to realize more words won’t cure this quiet and as Bakugou peels away to storm down the hall, the little Champion nods his goodnights sympathetically and gestures through the seaglass after him.

Maybe this is what the sea looks like beneath its frothing waves? Maybe it’s quiet like this, sun bleeding through cool light at lengths immeasurable and asking at a whisper for you to follow.

“Royal summons. Katsuki hates being late.”

Maybe this is what hell looks like? Maybe the heat of the setting sun through stained glass is a warning and your prince, a golden fire, is just a trick the light can use to draw you in like a bug who doesn’t know better. Bakugou’s broad shoulders shrink the longer you let him get away. Maybe you shouldn’t fall for it again.

“Thank you Champion.”

When Deku slips down the stairwell you came up from, peace truly dies at sea.

Ten and some years ago was Aldera’s wettest summer. Thunderstorms, flooding, bugs like you wouldn’t imagine– most of the season was spent rescuing crops and standing still in rare breezes, but the children had school.

Between training and sleep you dragged yourself to class with civilian kids to learn numbers and poems that would do nothing to protect the queen, in a room full of people too nervous to speak with you. Green lightning ripped through the afternoon sky and caused such bruises that the clouds turned purple. Rain pelted the castle walls sideways.

You were late. You fell asleep standing on shift in the North Wing, tricked into resting your head on the wall from the lull of storm on stone and so when you remember this day the first thing that comes to you is sprinting through golden halls, school bag swatting your hips and back. Sliding down the banister of the Main Hall as if it were a playground, a swift turn under the maiddoor and then a mad dash to the East Wing where your lessons were bound to have started without you. Thunder shook the castle.

The sound of rain grew louder and after bounding round the building faster than a magpie, you realized why. In one of the four hallways overlooking the courtyard, wind, rain, and debris sailed through the line of open windows and beneath them an exquisitely detailed rug drank up the water that pooled inside. As the red and gold details wet, the castle seemed to be bleeding. It slipped beneath the floorboards and the space was soaked in an ancient smell that could only be dredged out of wood by divine floodwater.

If you were old enough to know the words, curses might have sprung from your mouth as you abandoned the school mission to seal your home back up. At eleven years old this was no easy task. Perhaps the bugs hiding in their trees outside laughed as they watched you leap to catch the first great window frame and drag it down shut. Maybe the birds winced as water filled your school bag and plastered your hair hot across your throat– at your soldier’s uniform, already too big, clinging to your bones now that the rain had taken them too.

Who left these windows open?!

The queen loved her art, she loved every floor runner and tapestry, and you would not watch on as the wilderness tried to reclaim her castle. As an adult now, fighting the rain for a rug is of course too silly to be noble but at eleven it seemed to be the most important thing in the world. You burned with purpose. You burned too with embarrassment, at the state of your uniform no other child wore and the mess of your hair even as you refused to take shelter or call for help. Then Aldera’s little prince rushed onto the scene from the opposite end of the hall.

Oh how you could have laughed at the state of it all. At Bakugou, scrawny and pretty and dressed up in jewels like he’d just come from an party, and at the thought of what he saw when he turned the corner. Besides how silly you knew you looked, the comedy of the situation hit you for a moment as curtains of rain, branches, and wind whipped inside the eight still-open windows between you.

It was the first of many days you would feel painfully ridiculous beside your beautiful prince. When an unripe peach sailed inside on the gales and cracked you over the head, the pity in his soft eyes stung. This was not how a royal guard should hold herself. Her hair should be kept back, her face should remain neutral, and most of all her cursed uniform was supposed to fit.

As you were knocked off balance, the prince jerked towards you but before he could take a full step into the storm another few fruits were dislodged from their tree and whipped inside around rain and leaves. Bakugou too was clocked in the head, a peach to his cheek and caught another before it could fly into his mouth and knock out a tooth.

As the pair of you righted yourselves and the hallway grew wetter, the thought of class felt too cruel. The decision between your queen’s rugs and her son, too overwhelming– which should you shelter? A bruised prince or a ruined hallway, which would the queen hate more? Your redemption for falling asleep on duty kept drifting farther away, and then Bakugou began to laugh.

He reached up for the window closest to him and shut it tight with a little hop and a whip of his shoulder. A vine of lightning lit the hallway in negatives for a moment.

He grinned, “Get outta here!” And tossed the peach in his fist across seven open stormy windows to you.

Bakugou’s hands are always fists and if you had known this when you were eleven it wouldn’t have charmed you so much. When the prince cracked a smile in the petulant wind tunnel something light like wheat fields came to life inside of you.

“Yes sir.”

As if reading your mind, the grown prince growls when you catch up to him in the Takoban hallway.

Bakugou takes up too much space to hide from anything. He could suck the air from the room like a great big fireplace if he truly wanted to and suffocate every soul inside, so it’s somewhat remarkable, as you fall behind him, that you aren’t brought to your knees or sent through the pretty glass ceiling.

Why doesn’t he speak? What right does he have to be acting strange after pulling you apart for all to see?

The sky through the ceiling above you shifts quietly to purple as the sun sets, although anything but blue feels wrong in Takoba. Immediately at the thought, the red glow of the kitchens plays over the backs of your eyes and your focus darts down again to those dangerous hands you keep at a distance. Bakugou flexes them as he steps.

His big hands dance. At no more than a step or two behind your prince, marching together down the longest hallway you’ve ever seen, you can’t quite look away from his gold fists under the bottlegreen light. Truly, they are always fists. Always a threat and a reminder like an iron to a branded dog. His hands that cupped your face and pinched you close in the cursed kitchens, exalted by your fear. They lifted you like you weighed nothing and then they caged you in. His hands are only for pain. Playing tricks around a campfire. They are only good for fighting, sweaty and tickling with ripping explosions.

Bakugou pretends he can’t feel your warmth at his back as you drift closer.

Those are the hands that tore through a royal crowd and grabbed hold of your nightgown when they thought no one was around to see. They’re thick and violent– they’re soft. Your well-kept rage stirs as you remember. When they brushed your knuckles warm in a cream calm dream or gripped the fabric at your waist on horseback. Plucking splinters from your bloody cheeks. Gentle when they smothered the flames in your hair at the edge of the forest.

The prince jerks to a sudden stop and when you’re too busy watching the ripple of veins in his fingers, you bump into his back. You both flinch on contact; only at the touch do you realize your prince has been keeping you exactly as distant as you him and then that flinch becomes a fling of mismatched magnets when he snaps his head around, you raise yours, and your pair of fraught eyes meet in lieu of shouting. It aches like a strike to the temple.

In a second your prince is turned and down the hallway again towards a set of modest wooden doors still ages away. “Fucking airhead,” he rumbles. The first words all week. Nostalgia turns to ash in your throat.

The seaglass hallway stretches on like a draconian landing pad with no decoration past the stained glass ceiling. From your week of research this is the only path in all of Takoba Castle that leads straight to the ocean. Something about floodwaters and enemy attacks by sea means that this maze of a seashell at least serves a purpose and that this hallway must be special. Your mind races with the possibilities of what your prince has to do on the other side of it. You wish he would speak to you, and then you wince.

What do you miss? His hate-filled spew? You just wish to be rid of this silence you determine, and slow down behind him with generous distance when you both finally approach the exit.

As the prince pulls simple wooden doors apart a great gust of salted air blows the loose hairs around your face with a horrible tickle and where you expect the sea, iron and blue flowers stare back instead. You and your golden prince look over some kind of solemn garden suspended under the moon.

Aldera is a lush green kingdom, Takoba is a portside merchant city. You know nature and fields and crops. This garden is man-made and more than that it is poorly kept. Metal flower beds, soil spilling over their lips from holes dug by birds or damage done by sea winds, and eerily, no weeds. Maybe the sea doesn’t carry weeds like rivers do? Only one type of sad blue flower wilting like a bell. The garden is at least as large as Aizawa’s training pit and filled with copies of the same bellflower weeping up trellises or littering the ground but still it feels vast and empty. Like a cemetery with no more plots to offer.

It’s only you two in the cliffside clearing, not a royal in sight. Who summoned him? Bakugou keeps his back to you while stepping between the garden beds and you wonder if he is unsettled too. You’re glad he does not watch you while you begin to wander.

By all calculations this path should have led to the sea but when you approach the precarious edge of the garden there is still a five story drop between you and high tide. The castle is built on a bluff above the beach. A foundation of rock. Below even that, black water stretches spindly fingers in the sand.

Who is this place for? On one side of you, Takoba Castle’s white spires reach into the now-night sky and on the other a deadly drop into the sea. A single type of flower planted over and over again into boxes that could hardly keep them alive. When you happen a glance between your feet, you’re startled by the movement you can see under them. Candles flickering inside a great many feet below you. A garden with a glass floor.

The air becomes suddenly thick with realization as you scan what parts of the clearing aren’t shadowed by clouds passing over the moon. The one door you came through and a steep drop off the edge with no railings. A single way in but decidedly two ways out. This is no garden.

“Hey.”

Something is trying to distract you. Had it not been just the two of you out here, you never would have registered the quiet voice drifting low through the breeze as Bakugou. Gentle? When you don’t turn around he rumbles soft again, “Eyes.”

His second words all week. The sound is warm wool. Bakugou is trying to speak with you and where surprise at his voice should make your heart race, something much more sinister has settled on your pulse. You are not listening, in fact you cut him off with a wave of your hand instead of turning at his shockingly soft cadence.

“Highness, who sent for you?” You demand delicately, back still turned as you skim the ruined garden. This place is meant to be a prison. You shouldn’t be here. Who is it supposed to keep in?

Had you been watching him, you would have caught the prince’s jaw slack and then coil tight again with your dismissal. He holds himself tenser and tenser.

“Highness–” You try again, but his voice, noticeably less gentle, cuts you off.

“Eyes, not n–” It’s your prince’s turn to try again, but this time you spin around to keep him quiet and take the upper hand.

“We have to leave.”

Suddenly you’re approaching him in the center of the garden, weaving over spilt soil and sad flowers faster than he is able to stop you coming closer, and you don’t yet know that there’s a reason he drifted so far away before trying to speak. You are too busy identifying blindspots to notice him curling inward from rage. All you register is his lack of haste and it compounds a preexisting fury in your bones. You can parse out your feelings about his words later, about the way he called to you, about his tenor, about a thousand things– later. Strong is the sea air tonight.

The distance you kept between his hands and your body this week vanishes under the circumstances and now you are so close you should smell the sweet of his ignition begin to drip in anger. Instead you watch shadows over his shoulder and pause in front of him, “Who summoned you?”

“Will you–”

“Highness who–”

“Shut up!”

Faster than immediately, somehow simultaneously, your body registers his threat that you are so practiced in withstanding and you take a steadying step back, no longer hiding your gaze from that which wants to kill you. Up, up, up is his shadowed face and those tiny shining suns that have done too good of a job until now, in protecting him.

The last time you watched each other like this you feared you might have to hurt him. He is a bit taller, he is much more beautiful than you. You wish you could have known him. It is only one terrible second before the shouting begins but in it is your prince’s final moments of softness, what might be fragility under the reds of his eyes, what looks like worry at the corners of his lips, washed over by crimson fumes like an eclipse or the death of a star.

“Highness–”

“Be quiet.”

But you have already had your fill of his golden cheeks and so you turn with your arm outstretched in the direction of the door, “We need to–”

“Are you fucking demented?” He growls. He does not budge. He stares and you no longer have the patience for him. It is slipping from you like sand.

“Walk and talk my prince, we have–”

“Excuse–?”

“Highness,” you hiss back at him and steady your hand on the hilt of your short sword.

You’ve pushed too far because oh how he bites the air now. He spits, “If you cannot–”

“I cannot–”

“– listen–” 

“Come, now.”

“You will listen when I speak.”

“You do not speak to me!” And how you bite back.

He rushes you.

The prince is threatening in the best of situations and when the wall of his body obliterates the space between you, your arms move faster than you’re able to control as they pull your sword from its scabbard. Bakugou flies against your blade as you raise it, pressing his own chest against the flat steel you keep vertical in defense. You hate to admit that he scares you.

“You will lose the fight you pick with me,” you murmur close enough to taste the air he breathes too close. He does not fight back or raise his hands and sparks do not come to life around you. At your back, Jeanist’s halberd itches to hunt.

“And you will lower your weapon.”

“I am your mother’s soldier, not yours.”

Bakugou bares his teeth to the realization that your obedience has only been a courtesy to this point. Pillowed chest to yours, you are close enough to feel the rumblings of his ribcage. Of his biceps as he holds them still at his sides like two great snakes that would like nothing more than to kill you. Dripping fists. You can see it in the tremble of his throat, his resisting a thousand things, screaming, flying, eating you alive, biting down into the meat of your neck that his lips brush as he bows into your blade– all at once like an implosion. What is he holding back?

“Then run back home to your queen.”

“You are my responsibility.”

“Oh yeah my hero,” he swells and pressed deeper, drawing blood, “my little captain–”

The nickname from the night in the kitchens cracks the wax seal of your rage before it can even melt and in seconds you’re losing the fight to contain your ancient violence. Blade now cutting through his tunic and Bakugou still does not pull back. He does not raise his own weapon or his magic and his hands don’t reach for you.

“Check that ego, Eyes.”

“I am doing my job!”

“You! The havoc wreaker, charged with my protection? Careful not to make me laugh Captain or I might just slit my throat.”

The threat oozing from this garden is as far as a thought has ever been from your mind while it is otherwise filled with curses. Could you kill him? You will bite through your tongue before holding it. Every time he calls you captain something inside heaves like the sea.

“Do you tire of torture?”

“You think yourself so special?”

“You are a beast!”

“You are insufferable!”

“You suffer my charity easily enough!”

You almost want to wince at the shape your prince’s lips make when he remembers the weight of your earrings and he presses so deep into the curve of your body and blade that your foreheads bump in threat.

“Run away home.”

“You are not my queen and not my master.”

“And you are still Alderan!” He snaps sweet, “You are my responsibility!”

Sparks come like tears to Bakugou’s eyes and his canines shine when he bares them to you, too close to see the details of his delicate face. 

“I am your prince and she’s not here! She is not fighting for her life in Takoba– Fuck the queen!”

“You–!”

“You!”

“You are cruel!”

“And you are mine.”

Somehow the ocean falls. The world stops turning and at the words neither you nor your prince make a single sound.

His scowl melts to shock, jeweled eyes first slits and now wide under slack brows. Blade to his neck and still Bakugou’s hands do not crackle and your breath hardly comes when you need it, and you want to touch him– strike him– you think you might kiss him. You think he might let you, and then comes a voice from the sea.

“Get a room.”

In a shadowed corner of the glass garden your blue ghost bends at the waist to smell bellflowers. His hair is white.

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#bakugou x reader #a hymn to black water #bakugo x reader #bnha #mha #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au

[dazed-diary]

sugar, spice, and everything nice

summary: you decide to bake brownies in the middle of the night, bakugou just wants a glass of water, the two of you have a conversation

bkg x gn!reader - wc: 3.5k

warnings: just some cursing here and there, that's all!

“Ah, shit.”

You let out a curse under your breath, already moving to get a spoon to retrieve the piece of eggshell that had managed to escape into the batter. With slow and careful movements, you guided the spoon up the inside of the bowl while balancing the frivolous escapee that was threatening to slip back into the batter on the tip.

It was the middle of a Thursday night and the U.A. dorms were asleep, the students being exhausted after the recent spike in villain activities. It was understandable, being tired with everything that was going on, although for some reason, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep at all, seemingly too much on your mind. After alternating between tossing and turning in your bed and mindlessly staring at the dark ceiling for what felt like hours – a look at the time told you it actually had been hours – the urge to bake brownies had inexplicably taken a hold of you. 

For a moment you had just laid there, weighing the pros and cons of a spontaneous past-curfew, definitely-against-the-rules trip to the dorm kitchen for a midnight baking-session, when, after a couple seconds of inner debate, you had decided to just go through with it, throwing the covers off of yourself with a quiet “fuck it”. 

Now you were here, in the kitchen, trying really hard not to make a sound in order to not wake any others – you had even resolved to mixing everything with a whisk instead of a hand mixer, even though an annoying voice at the back of your head was telling you that the bedrooms were too far from the kitchen for anybody to hear you, anyways. 

Nevertheless, now you were dedicated to see this through to the end and continued on whisking away. Once you were satisfied with the look of the batter, you moved on to measure the flour, when, all of a sudden, the ceiling lights of the kitchen turned on, startling you. Originally, you had only turned on the small light above the stove in order not to draw attention from outside, even resorting to your phone flashlight to find the ingredients you needed in the cupboards, so the bright lights from above were a little blinding.

“What the-“, disoriented, you shielded your eyes and turned around to the direction of where you thought the light switches were, trying to identify whoever had busted your little baking session. Still blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness, you expected Mr. Aizawa to be standing in the doorway, ready to give you a lecture. However, you were proven wrong as a gruff voice that definitely did not belong to your sensei cut through the silence.

“The fuck are you doing?” 

Bakugou Katsuki stood at the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, both in black, and looking at you as if you had just grown a second head or something.After recovering from the initial shock (and relief at not receiving detention for your stupid idea), you tried to think of a reasonable way to justify still being up.

“Uhhh…”, you said dumbly, trying to think of an explanation that wasn’t just ‘I couldn’t sleep so I did what any sensible person would do and started baking brownies in the middle of the night in our school’s dorm kitchen. Any more questions?

Instead, you uttered a lame “I’m…baking?”. 

Wow, what a great explanation. He surely wouldn’t think you were weird now.

If he doesn’t already think that, you told yourself.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at that, looking even more irritated than before and like he wanted to say something else, but he stopped himself, huffed out a breath of air and walked towards the cupboard with the glasses and cups, muttering something about him being “way to fuckin’ tired for this shit right now”. 

Still a bit stunned, you watched him fill a glass of water under the tab, lean on the counter and chug it. Before he could fill it up again, though, he seemed to notice your stare on him and he side-eyed you. “What.” 

Realizing that you must’ve probably looked even more insane now, you quickly avoided his piercing gaze and turned back to your brownies-in-progress, resuming your previously interrupted task of measuring the flour after muttering a quick “nothing!”

Pressing a few buttons on the scale, you added a quieter “I was just surprised to see someone else up, is all.” 

You grabbed another bowl and set it on the scale, daring to look up at him again, only to find his eyes still focused on you, much to your surprise. Somehow, the feeling of his eyes on you made you feel…nervous. You tried not to let it show and instead busied yourself with your phone, checking the rest of the recipe. Because he did not immediately make the move to head back to his room, you tried to drown out his presence as best as you could. 

Your relationship to Bakugou was…normal, you thought. As far as you were able to tell with his fiery attitude, he didn’t hate you. That was something, you supposed. He didn’t seem too concerned with you; in class when you were teamed up with him or pitted up against him in teams, he seemed to know enough about your quirk in order to form fitting strategies either with or against it, but when the two of you were teamed up there was someone else from class with you pretty much every time so the two of you had never quite been…alone like this, now that you thought about it. 

“The hell you making, anyway?” 

His voice interrupted your thoughts and you turned back to him, still leaned against the counter but his body angled more in your direction.

“Just some brownies for everyone, I thought we could eat them tomorrow after school or something.” Suddenly you had a thought. “I’ll probably just say I made them yesterday or something, they’ll probably think it’s weird I made them in the middle of the night. Like, who just bakes brownies instead of sleeping, right?”, you let out a nervous laugh at that. 

He stayed silent at that, leaving you to wallow in slight embarrassment, mulling over how you would explain to your classmates where the batch of brownies had magically appeared from. Was there a student with a brownie quirk at U.A.?

“You’re a dumbass.” 

“Huh?” You looked back up at him dumbfounded, eyes having unfocused with your internal chaotic monologue.

He rolled his eyes and walked past you, the scent of his cologne drifting past you in a wave of sandalwood and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. It smelled good. Not that it mattered.

“I said, you’re a dumbass.” Now on your other side, he grabbed the knife and cutting board with the chocolate you had prepared and started chopping.

“Wha-“, you cut yourself off, having to shake your head in order to process what was going on. “What are you doing?” 

“What’s it look like I’m doing? Cuttin’ your dumb chocolate for your dumb brownies or whatever,” he shot you a dirty look.

You wanted to argue that neither the chocolate nor the brownies were ‘dumb’, but you held yourself back. Instead, you rephrased the question because technically he had answered it. “Why are you doing that?”

He tch-ed. “Because it’s fucking late and we got team exercise tomorrow and I ain’t losin’ because some teammate of mine was too tired!” His brows were furrowed now and he was chopping faster, the chunks decreasing in size at an almost alarming rate. 

You stopped short. “There’s no guarantee for me being in your team, though.”

“What’d you say?”

“Huh? Uh, nothing, nothing.”

Choosing not to argue with him about his…peculiar way of talking, you watched him cut the chocolate. The pieces were pretty small now, however you figured it would be useless to tell him to stop at this point. Instead, you continued working on the batter, mixing the flour and cocoa powder into the bowl with the eggs, sugar and butter. A sort of comfortable silence settled over the two of you, the crunching of the chocolate under the knife and the whisk scraping the sides of the bowl somehow added to the atmosphere. 

After a while of whisking and spacing out you realized that you could no longer hear the chocolate being cut, so you turned to your right to see Bakugou rinsing off the knife in the sink. Your eyes then drifted to the cutting board where you beheld…chocolate…powder.

What in the-

You snorted. Before you could stop yourself, your whole body was shaken with giggles and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. Bakugou’s head snapped towards you, his face contorted into an irritated frown.

“What the fuck?”, seemingly more irritated with each word, he got louder. “What’s so funny, huh?” Dropping the knife in the sink and drying his hands on a kitchen towel which was unceremoniously thrown somewhere on the counter, he walked so he was standing right in front of you. 

“Shhh”, you managed between giggles, “you’re being too loud!” After wiping a tear from your eye and taking another look at his face, where you thought you could see some confusion and maybe uncertainty hidden behind the irritation, you decided to explain the reason for your amusement to him. 

“The chocolate-“, you giggled, “you-“, you pointed towards the now-powder when you broke out into another fit of hushed laughter. 

“The fuck’s wrong with it?” he spat, looking at it for a moment before his eyes snapped back to your face. You failed to notice the tips of his ears reddening as his gaze lingered on your grinning mouth.

He genuinely seemed unaware as to what you were laughing about, so you tried to collect yourself. Taking a deep breath and holding back any more laughter that threatened to escape you, you changed your mind. “You know what? It’s fine.” Grabbing the cutting board, you dumped the powder into the batter and mixed it. “It’s perfect, see?” For better emphasis, you held the bowl so he could look at the contents, not that there was much to notice, but you somehow felt like reassuring him.

He scoffed. “Whatever.”

From the far end of the counter, you grabbed the tray you prepared and poured the batter inside before putting it in the oven, closing the door and setting the temperature. As you straightened your back, it was quiet again and the sudden awkwardness that filled the air made you want to busy your hands with something, so you started cleaning up. 

All the while you were putting back the ingredients to their places in the cupboards, you felt Bakugou’s eyes on you. For some reason, he hadn’t moved from his spot and all of a sudden you were reminded of the pajamas you were currently wearing: checkered blue pajama pants and an oversized, washed-out t-shirt with a character of a children’s TV show and the word SMILE! in bold, glittery letters on the front of the t-shirt. You felt blood rushing to your face and tried to subtly angle your body away from Bakugou. 

After another moment of silence that felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat from behind you. Currently, you were putting away the sugar (the last of your ingredients still standing around – after remembering your outfit you had tried to avoid having to use the cupboard closest to Bakugou) when you stole a glance at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. 

“Don’t-“, he cut himself off, as if he was struggling to find the right words. After a pause of another few seconds, he said, “Don’t think so fucking much.”

“What?”

You turned towards him; ugly shirt forgotten. Out of all the things you’d expected him to say to you – hell, you wouldn’t even have been surprised if he’d just left without saying another word, seeing as you had basically made fun of him for cutting the chocolate weirdly – this wasn’t one of them. You didn’t even know what he meant. 

Bakugou’s brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched.

“It doesn’t matter.”, he said. “When you made the brownies, or whatever. It ain’t any of their business. You baked and they get to eat them, ‘s all they gotta know.”

You were dumbfounded. Staring at him, you searched for a reply, anything to respond, but he beat you to it. 

“Bein’ a hero too, and everything. I see you,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Hesitating. Overthinking. You’re not weak, so what the fuck are you doing?” 

You found it impossible to break the eye contact, his red eyes filled with anger and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. I see you.

He continued. “I’ve seen what you can do. Last week you fucking kicked four villains’ asses alone because they were an immediate danger to surrounding citizens. You acted fast because you knew waiting for backup from pros would have been too late and you immobilized those damn fuckers with a move that could’ve hurt the civilians if you were some extra without proper control over your quirk. But you aren’t. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. You have a strong quirk and unlike some other extras here,” his eyes narrowed at that, “you actually know how to use it. So do it. To win.”

To say you were shocked silent was putting it lightly. For a few moments after he was done talking, all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears and you hoped your cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. At your expression, he seemed to realize the impact of his words at least a little bit. 

“Ah, shit- I didn’t mean-“ He slapped one hand over his mouth. You think you heard a muffled “fucking idiot”, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. 

In the meantime, you had somehow managed to regain a little bit of your composure to finally respond to him, albeit you were still stuttering a bit.

“Uhh, you-” Suddenly it was very hard to look him in the eyes. “I never knew you paid so much attention to me.”

That sent him over the edge. “What?!” Stumbling backwards, his expression contorted with some of his usual anger, but you could sense there was something more behind it. Embarrassment, maybe? You didn’t miss the way his eyes were darting around the room nervously, now anywhere but on you or how his cheeks seemed to just slightly redden in color, but you might have been imagining it, of course. 

Suddenly curious, you stepped forward. Untouchable, closed-off, self-centered Bakugou had just given you an extremely personal (and accurate) pep talk. He had read you like an open book, and although you’d known he was intelligent, somehow this hadn’t felt all that analytical and more…emotional.

Taking another step towards him and trying to fight the smile from coming onto your face, you whispered, “You’re being loud again, Bakugou.” After a pause, you got serious, “But, thanks, I guess. Hearing something like that coming from you means a lot to me.” 

At that, he regained his composure, narrowing his eyes. “Just stating the obvious. The only thing holding you back is yourself, it’s stupid.”

Wow, so much for some comforting words. You let out a breath of amusement, shaking your head, gaze travelling to the clock by the door. 

“Oh wow, it’s already two.”

At your words, Bakugou’s head also lifted towards the clock. “How long do these things take to bake, anyways?”

“Like, 20 minutes, I think. I better finish cleaning up, wouldn’t want to have to stay up much longer.” As you grabbed the dishes you had used, you realized something. “Hey, I’m not keeping you up, am I? I didn’t mean to make you stay here just because I started talking to you or anything.”

“You’re not doing shit.” Before you realized what he was doing, he grabbed two bowls from your hands and put them in the dishwasher. 

“Wha-”

“I told you you’re gonna be fucking tired tomorrow, so don’t complain.” He was facing away from you now, fishing the knife out from the dink and finishing cleaning it off.

You just stood there with your hands still in front of you from when he had taken the bowls, mouth opened in a slight gasp. 

When he noticed your silence, he turned around. “Stop standing around like some idiot, you wanna stay here until everyone else wakes up, or what?”

That woke you up from your stupor. He was right, you had already lost enough sleep time as it was, although even as you wiped the counters and took a look at the brownies in the oven, you were still wondering what was motivating Bakugou to stay up and even help you clean the kitchen. Especially knowing how particular he was about his own sleep schedule.

When you were finished, you took a look around the kitchen, checking for anything you might have missed. Satisfied when you couldn’t find anything, you turned to Bakugou, who was putting away his glass of water.

“Thanks,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. Him putting away the glass probably meant he would be going back to bed now, but you weren’t sure what to say. ‘Sleep well’? Internally, you laughed at yourself, picturing him counting fluffy little sheep.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He started walking towards the door, pausing once in the doorway. “Don’t stay up too long, [name].” And with that, he was gone. 

For seemingly the twentieth time this night, you were stunned silent. He had called you by your name. He hadn’t said ‘idiot’, ‘nerd’, or anything like that. He had said ‘[name]’. 

His words replayed in your mind over and over, until you remembered that the brownies were probably almost done now. You had to force yourself to move from your position, holding your hands to your cheeks in a futile attempt to cool down the blush that had formed on your face.

The next couple of minutes passed by in a haze, and before you knew it, you were lying in your bed again, having put the finished brownies in a box in the kitchen, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed by everyone immediately. 

“What just happened?”

You found yourself staring at the ceiling again, still hearing his voice at the back of your mind. It seemed your plan to bake some brownies and then to hopefully have an easier time falling asleep was not working out the way you had envisioned. 

“Ugh, freaking Bakugou,” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. You remained like that for some time longer, before turning to lay on your side. You took a deep breath, attempting to calm your raging heartbeat, and closed your eyes.

Sleep finally embraced you, and you slept without interruptions for the rest of the night.

BONUS:

The next day, the class was gathered at Ground Beta and preparing for the already announced group exercise by drawing lots. You were one of the only ones left who hadn’t been assigned a team yet. As your name was called, you walked to the box with the lots in it and pulled a slip of paper out.

“You’re in team C, which makes that team complete.”, Mr. Aizawa said, although you weren’t really listening, frozen in place because if you remembered correctly, team C was-

“[name].”

Your head snapped to the owner of the voice, who was none other than Bakugou. Because of course.

“[name]. You gonna stand there all day? Get over here.”

He was using your name again and you found that it made operating like a normal person quite difficult. Your body moving in the direction of your team felt almost robotic; as you tried to avoid his gaze, you nearly stumbled over your own two feet. That woke you up from your stupor, and you mentally slapped yourself for acting like such an idiot.

“I fucking knew it. Because you didn’t sleep, you’re tripping over nothing like some dumbass,” he rolled his eyes. “I fucking told ya not to stay up so long, should’ve listened to me.” 

Now you were blushing furiously and you were pretty sure your heartbeat could be heard all the way back in the classrooms, but before you could think of something to say to him, Kirishima, who was another one of your teammates, cut in. 

“What? Dude, hold on! You were with [name] last night?” The redhead looked at his friend incredulously.

You were pretty sure you saw a vein popping on Bakugou’s temple as he yelled, “Ain’t none of your business, shitty hair, nobody asked for your opinion!”

Your mouth fell open. What a way to make this sound absolutely not weird.

“Alright, alright,” Kirishima laughed, holding his hands up in mock defence and shooting you a not-so-sly wink over his shoulder. “I won’t ask, man. I won’t ask.” 

Oh god. 

While Bakugou yelled some more about how that was not what he meant with some tiny explosions coming out of his palm, you pinched the bridge of your nose, already wondering how you got yourself in this ridiculous situation.

#I literally forgot like an entire paragraph I’m such an idiot haha #like i kept looking and thinking ‘this isn’t how I remember it ending’ lol #I also hope the formatting didn't get messed up #how does formatting here even work #I am so lost on this website #and nervous lol #uhh anyways #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki fluff #I also don’t know what possessed me to write the words ‘frivolous escapee’ but here we are #SIX MONTHS later and I notice that there was an entire paragraph like 3 times in a row this is so embarrassing -_-

[doodlegirl1998]

Ok, so this might be a super minor thing but it has being bugging me. Is it weird that despite Ochako, Iida and Todoroki being Izuku's closest friends, they never call him by his first name and vice versa? And the fact that it's Bakuhoe of all people to start doing that after his poor excuse of an 'apology' when we all know he isn't Izuku's friend at all (and really, they never were to begin with).

This is ignoring that Ochako calls him 'Deku' (which I'm not a fan of).

In Japan, people don't really call each other by their first names unless it is with someone they have a close relationship with, whether with family or close friends.

Hi @ultimateemerl 👋

No I wouldn't say it's a minor thing to be bugged by, I am bugged by it too. More so by the injustice of it all, let me explain.

Bkg gets to call Midoriya "Izuku" and be praised by the narrative for 'knowing Izuku the best' and being "the closest" to Izuku when really all he did was;

Physically, emotionally and verbally abuse Izuku all his life for being quirkless (which if you take Quirklessness as disability coding makes a very ugly picture.)

Tell him to kill himself.

Destroy his property.

Scream at him all the time and invent a new slur ("Deku") just for him (this continues into UA.)

Blames All Might for Izuku's low self esteem when really it is in large part his fault.

Physically attacks Izu at the slightest provocation. I.e Izu being proud of Black whip apparently deserves a ninja star head piece to the skull according to Bakugou.

Makes jabs at Izu whenever he can, bc fuck Izu's feelings. Even after the lip service manipulation of an apology, Bkg deems it appropriate to say, "A quirkless child given a quirk, sounds like someone we know," in reference to the Aoyama Situation. Yeah, sounds like a great, thoughtful close friend there. Izu is "lucky to have a friend like that" right Author / All Might?!

Follows Izuku everywhere and keeps tabs on him, in true abuser fashion. (Follows him when Todoroki takes Izu to talk, unjustly joins Izu in the OFA meetings just to shit on the past holders and Izu himself. Joins in OFA training which Izu learnt nothing from and Bkg seemed to use it as an excuse solely to beat Izu up.)

Those are just the eight things I can think of at the top of my head, as to why Bkg doesn't deserve to be anywhere near Izu let alone have the privilege of calling Izu his first name.

Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, Aoyama all deserve that privilege more being Izuku's true friends and it would show their bond closening over time which would have been nice to see.

Izu of course is Todoroki's first friend and Todoroki being as blunt as he is could have asked for the privilege of calling Midoriya his first name while offering his own after inviting him to his home which would have been nice to see.

Uraraka is meant to be the love interest canonically so having her only ever canonically call Izuku "Deku" really puts a sour taste in my mouth. Have her instead like Iida insist on calling Midoriya his last name at first then she could as their bond grows (and they become besties) offer her first name to him.

Iida of course is a bit stricter but it would be nice to see him soften to Izuku and offer his first name as well.

The Aoyama reveal should have been built up more by give Yuuga more screen time - we should have seen Yuuga POV on Izu's situation and focused on their parallels. I would like to have seen Yuuga offer his first name to Izuku and them have that close bond.

With Bakugou he doesn't ask for the right to call Midoriya his first name even after the apology - he just takes it without asking.

Because Bakugou, the abuser he is, believes it to be his right to do so. That signifies to me that, coupled with all his other actions, despite what the narrative wants us to believe he hasn't changed at all.

#anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugou #mha critical #bnha critical