Bakugou X Reader - Blog Posts

'cause i love the way you call me baby—

bakugou x reader

wc: 15.6k+

warnings: 18+, explicit language, spicy situations (no smut), bakugou is like really bad at feelings, kirishima continues to be a well-meaning menace, angst, fluff, pro hero au

< < < part one |

7:32 A

Bakugou is always so subtly punctual.

By the time you gather the will to meet the chilly morning head on, he is already sitting in your parking lot. The black SUV is idling quietly and he isn't rolling down the window, urging you to hurry your ass up or honking like he'd threatened to at work only days ago. His eyes, much brighter than yours this early, are already on you—as they seem to always be, these days—and you swear it is the cold bite in the air that steals the breath from your lungs.

Though the warmth of your apartment is enticing, you give him a small wave (that he doesn’t return) before locking the door behind you. There is a thin layer of ice covering the short walkway in front of the complex and you strain your toes in your fuzzy boots while stepping carefully, though the effort not to make a fool of yourself is wasted; the pro hero waiting safely inside his vehicle laughs, loudly, when your foot slides across the ice, hands going to grip the rail along the sidewalk so tightly, you fear it'll yank loose from the stud.

It's the first thing you hear out of him, so early in the morning, his brash laughter. Despite the offense, the giggle that bubbles out of you, too, can't be helped.

"Thanks so much for the help, sir!" Is the first thing out of you upon yanking open the door and scrambling in, eager to bask in the warmth of his vehicle (and him).

Immediately, the mischievous glint in his eye dissipates. "Don't start with that crap."

Though you're well aware of what he means, you tilt your head curiously; early morning be damned, you can always find the will to tease your boss. "Crap, sir? I'm afraid I don't follow."

Bakugou throws his car in reverse and leans close, putting his arm around your seat as he backs out of the parking lot. The muscle in his cheek is jumping as he grits his teeth, drawing your eyes to the sharp cut of his jaw, and the scent of his cologne almost makes you sigh audibly. It smells expensive, like orchids and spice and comfort, and sleep is still so heavy upon you that it takes genuine effort not to sink forward to bury your face in his chest.

With his arm still around the seat, he glares down at you. "You clock in this morning?"

"No sir, but—"

"Bakugou." He barks, lips pulling back slightly, enough to show his canines, enough to show how serious he is.

A small smile graces you, one that cools the flickering heat in his red eyes, and you say, "Bakugou."

His gaze lingers for another moment, another thud of your heartbeat, before he shifts in his seat and begins to drive. "The hell are we going, anyway?"

Yukiko—the Sports Illustrated representative who will be interviewing Bakugou later—has already sent you the address of the diner she'd like to meet at. The printed out email is folded into the small backpack you'd brought along for the day, but the location has been typed into your phone so many times, it's well ingrained in your memory at this point. The navigation app in his expensive, massive car could easily guide him, but he lets you pull up Google Maps on your phone, let’s you tell him to take a left at the next stop sign, let's you direct him.

(The back up camera on the dash of the SUV could have also helped him get out of the parking lot; turning around, putting an arm behind your seat, leaning close had all been a choice.)

(It's still a young enough morning that you're embarrassed for already falling prey to this giddy, school-girl manner—as you always seem to do, these days—though it's safe to say this isn't anything new, not with Bakugou.)

The route offers a 45 minute drive and this acknowledgement is met with a disgruntled groan as you say it. There's a weighted, guilty part of you that feels bad again that you've dragged him to do this bullshit ass thing, though Bakugou does little more than huff and sigh; days ago, when you'd voiced the penitent nerves gnawing at you, he'd said (with red ears),

"I'm not forcing you, if you don't wanna go, don't."

and that hadn't been what you meant and that's what you told him, to which he replied (eyes on his monitor),

"Then cram it. We're goin'."

It almost feels like he's just waiting for you to say something, because he sends you fleeting little glances everytime he checks his rear view mirror, ready to cut you off at the first chance should you start that crap again. It takes all your strength to bite back a smile, to keep your hands and gaze on the phone.

Things with your boss have changed—subtly. There's this air that settles between the two of you now—different than before, when every thought you had ended in a question mark—and it's almost a little awkward, like at any moment something could come forth from either one of you and it would be somehow both unexpected and yet not entirely.

The lock on Red Riot’s door has been replaced, it's no longer a hassle to open (one less struggle in your morning); administrator privileges have been granted to you in order to change the schedule easier, quicker ("might as well have 'em, since you bother me about it all the damn time"); a single cup coffee maker appeared on your desk overnight.

Bakugou has asked you to lunch one time—"you hungry or what?"—and if you hadn't already eaten with Reverse, you would have indulged him (and yourself). That snub—and the unreadable look on his face—has haunted you more than once late at night, springing your eyes open as your brain worked through all the things he might have said during a meal with a friend and not under the guise of a work related afternoon.

Maybe he would have complimented you, trying to remain indifferent while admitting he thought you looked nice, or maybe the afternoon wouldn't have ended, extending into the evening, the two of you unable to fall back into a routine that—somewhere along the way—began to feel limited.

"Oi!" He snaps, and you jerk your eyes from your reverie, away from the window and back down to your phone.

"Oh, um, oh, shit," the heat of Bakugou's glare is scorching the skin of your face, "you need to change lanes, like, now."

"Are you fucking kidding me—" He leans completely away (another choice, one that has you grimacing to yourself) while looking behind him, probably breaking several traffic laws because of your absent-mindedness. "Gimme that!" One of his hands completely encompasses your own, warm fingers sliding between yours and the phone before he snatches it away.

"Sorry." The sheepish smile you send him goes wholly ignored. "Am I fired, sir, from navigating?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," Bakugou spits, "you're the worst."

Maybe he would have held your hand or paid for your meal, but maybe he would have swatted at you for trying to steal from his plate. Maybe he would have insulted your taste in food, or chastised your less-than-healthy meal option.

You would have enjoyed it all the same.

—

8:36 A

There's a handful of things you know about the interview:

The topic at hand is hero life after graduating

Absolutely no questions about any past, present or future cases

Absolutely no personal questions, such as religious views, political opinions, or the intimate details of Dynamight's notoriously private love life

The whole interview will be video recorded and released on YouTube later—along with a few behind-the-scenes questions—in a few months

The photo shoot will take place at a separate location

The diner the company rented out is nice, decorated with neon lights and posters of American icons: Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, Martin Luther King Jr., and the like. It's a little tacky, you think, but cute.

Bakugou thinks it doesn't make any damn sense to have the interview here, considering it has nothing to do with hero work—his or any other in Japan. It’s a valid point; while you agree with the argument, there is a pink and white jukebox near the entrance that is just waiting for you to start throwing your paycheck its way.

"Would you rather it be at your apartment, or the office?"

It's gloomy out, skies a sleepy mixture of blue and gray, and the dim glow filtering through the windows compliments him; it's Bakugou in a different light, a tranquil one, as if the weather is any indication of his change in attitude from those feral U.A days.

"Fuck no," he grumbles, ever unrefined, slouching into the table as if it will swallow him up and deliver him from this personal hell of your own making.

Yukiko is a few minutes late—despite the two of you being a few minutes late—so you're sitting across from him, leaning forward so that neither of you have to speak loud or disrupt the morning lingering in the empty restaurant. There's a waitress behind the counter brewing a pot of coffee and you're tempted to ask for a cup.

"Then cram it, sir." The unstoppable smile that blooms is hidden behind your fist, trying in earnest to press your mouth against your palm so he won't detonate.

"Think you're real fucking funny, don't ya'?" His carmine eyes are impossibly small and, though the sight might have scared you at one point, all it does is roll your eyes to the window. When you look back at him, he's staring hard at your face; the annoyance is undeniable, but there's something lingering between the clench of his teeth.

His hands are resting on the table, only inches from yours, and the urge to reach out and touch him fills you so abruptly that even he notices the motion of your fingers.

But—like always, these days—the doors to the diner swing open and the sounds of technical equipment and cameras flashing tell you all you need to know without ever turning around.

"My hero!" Yukiko beams, though your boss visibly recoils.

The first thing you notice about her is how professionally stunning she is—and the second is the quick up-and-down scan Bakugou gives her.

With a poreless face and smile so bright you nearly need to squint, she greets the both of you in such a charming way, any frustration you'd held at her for being late is immediately soothed. Her hair is long and dark, thick, curled in a way that is meant to look effortless (and it does), falling near her collarbones where two dainty necklaces ornament her. The pantsuit she's wearing does wonders for her skin tone and you are reminded of your own slightly damp clothes, outfitted in a jacket that probably makes you look puffer than usual.

When she calls him Dynamight, he has the decency to nod once and grit out, "Bakugou."

Then she turns to you in the plastic, pink booth across from him and asks, "Mind if I sit here for the cameras? You look like you would enjoy a milkshake!"

Life isn't a competition, and Yukiko's overwhelming beauty and professionalism (and charm and fashion sense and cute laugh and manicured nails and fit figure) doesn't mean that you are any less than her, but the insecurity rising within you while sliding from the booth is remorseless. She looks like the type of person that's been cut from the pages of a magazine with a perfectly scripted personality and has been pasted over your own face in the image of you and Bakugou in the diner.

It's so ridiculous, you tell yourself over and over again, because it is, but she's known him all of seven minutes and already she's calling him by his name. You attempt to remind yourself that the seven months it had taken you were all by choice, but then Yukiko laughs when he insists his entire hero moniker be in the magazine and you’re pouting.

It's nine in the morning and you are drinking a milkshake at the counter, far out of the way of the camera, far out of the way of Dynamight and his little bubble.

Last night, as you were scrutinizing the directions to the diner fervently, you'd thought of a few different ways this day might go; feeling pitiful and drowning yourself in milk and ice cream was not a scenario you had considered.

Yukiko starts by asking him questions about the area, if he's familiar with it at all, and this dissolves into a small discussion about where he was born—Atami, near the sea (a fact you were unaware of)—though he moved to Musutafu when he was very young, due in part to his father's career.

Of course, nothing is as easy as your boss up and giving this information away; the representative is already beginning to look a little flustered at the thirty minutes it takes in order to obtain that much.

(An image is born into your imagination of baby Bakugou, diapered Dynamight, in tiny swim trunks by the ocean with a little, chubby tummy. It earns you a sharp glance when you laugh quietly at it, ruby eyes narrowed as if he knows.)

"I'll go where I'm needed." Is what he spits out, arms crossed, when Yukiko asks if he plans to stay in Musutafu for the rest of his life. The question takes a slight turn towards plans for a family and if he'll raise any children here, but his stubborn silence is enough of an answer.

That certainly wasn't an approved subject.

Another surge of guilt rises at how awkward he looks, more than uncomfortable with his shoulders up around his ears. You think he’d rather be at home, catching up on some rest—he surely deserves it—and the pit in your stomach deepens until she brings up the topic of that one day, with the sludge villain, and you think maybe not, afterall. Maybe he likes it this way, so far from the child he once was, so much stronger and different.

"I’m not worried about shit from way back then," he grunts, leaning a little further back in the booth, grasping for distance. "Thought you were supposed to be asking me about the present, how much 'm dominating the hero board right now."

Yukiko laughs—musical, pleasant, rehearsed—but Bakugou isn't joking. She spares the cameraman another look, something she's been doing frequently, and you assume it's an indication on where they'll need to cut certain footage.

One of the crewmen holding the lights pins you with an expectant look, as if you should perhaps be sheepish for his gruffness, but you just send the man a simple smile. You're not his handler; if Bakugou wants his own milkshake, you'll get him one, but you aren't here to school him on how to act, nor to ask for forgiveness either.

It makes you wonder if you've grown used to it all, being so close to the warmth of him. Nothing that he's said so far has taken you off guard or made you flinch, and you've even found yourself surprised at the look on the representative's face when her sculpted mask cracks. Maybe he's calloused you, gotten you used to the heat in which he constantly burns.

Something about that is comforting.

"It's almost intimidating, how fierce you are against competition, even when that competition is made up of heroes you graduated with—"

"My assist rate is nearly triple what it was last year."

"Hey," it’s not difficult to tell where she was going with her question and you definitely should not be hissing at him, but you can't help yourself. He looks at you almost instantly. "Stop interrupting."

The scowl he sends burns your face as if he'd touched it with his own hands, but he only grumbles to himself before turning his attention back to Yukiko. You may not apologize for him, but you'll definitely encourage him to mind his manners. Whatever surprise you think you might have seen on Yukiko's face is gone when you look at her, and she nods once in thanks.

If you let him walk all over you, he will, and you wonder if you should have warned her of that earlier. It's not like he means to, but he has the kind of innate confidence most people don't and sometimes it manifests as arrogance, but they should have known that, surely? Bakugou commands the attention of everyone when he steps into the room because his presence is massive, authoritative, the kind that villains cower in.

The kind that says I am here.

(or, I am here, you fucking bastard.)

"Does it ever bother you to hear that you are being likened to heroes like Endeavor or Snipe? The kind of men that leave certain people divided when it comes to their approach to heroism?"

“I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. They shouldn’t be comparin’ me in the first place.” Bakugou tightens his arms around his chest (you’re thankful he’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt, though it only masks the tension in his biceps in the most minute way) and casts you a quick glance, anticipating your reaction to what he says next. “You worry about the crap people say about you?”

Yukiko sits back a little in her seat and smiles—practiced, restrained—before clearing her throat. She doesn’t answer, only asks, "Does it ever bother you to be compared to Deku, who is projected to be the next Symbol of Peace?"

The diner goes so silent that everyone can hear Yukiko's jewelry clink as she shifts. So silent that everyone can hear you choke on your milkshake (you aren't spared a glance, though, because you are still outside the bubble).

All you can think is that if Bakugou was going to blow the place to hell, he would have done so by now. At a different time in his life, you assume he might have gone berserk and shit talked Deku until people were having to hold him down in the booth—but now he just stares across the table, thinking.

The representative seems unable to look away and shudders; you're glad you can't see the exact expression on his face, though one you have seen comes to mind: in the bright lights of the conference room, footage you shouldn’t have been privy to still casting a faded picture on the wall, an unpleasant, clammy hand on your lower back. The memory heats you, almost the same way it had that day, though it’s less embarrassed now and more fond as you take in the jut of his chin, the line of his sharp nose in the downcast morning light.

("My hero!")

"I ain't gonna talk about that damn Deku."

Even if she wanted more from him, even if she meant to rile him up for some kind of sales-boosting answer, Yukiko only nods and takes a long pause before turning to the cameraman. Her beaming smile is wavering the tiniest bit—something obvious to you because you’ve been obsessing over her this entire time. "Quick break?"

Bakugou is up and out of the booth, stalking towards the door before her face has time to flatten, and you take that as your cue. The sky is still the same dismal shade, even though you've been at the interview for nearly an hour, and it dampens one of the sunny scenarios you'd imagined for today.

The warpath doesn’t end once he’s outside, nearly ripping the car door off its hinges so he can climb in and slam it shut behind him. The silence is so tense that you try your best to follow quietly, closing your door gently just in case it will reignite him somehow. Bakugou doesn't say anything, just throws his head back against the seat and tries in earnest to glare a hole through the ceiling of the car.

You go through a number of different ways to ask if he’s alright (“are you okay?” or “you good, man?” or “is there anything I can do, sir?”) but you can already tell that all of them would just be met with grunted, ‘m fine. So you try to approach him a different way, the kind of way you would a friend that was upset, saying weightless things just to steal their mind from anything stressful.

“I didn’t know you were born in Atami.” Rain starts to lightly fall against the SUV. “That sounds nice—do you ever go back there?”

“You askin’ questions now too?” Bakugou shoots, but it leads without malice, without bite as he keeps his eyes fixed.

Turning your head to watch the rain, you murmur out a quiet “sorry”, pressing your lips together to stop them from betraying you by frowning. He’s upset, and you would be too; constantly shadowed by other heroes, even when the topic of Dynamight only—Bakugou himself—is assured; triggers written down, buttons pressed, waiting just outside the blast zone for a response that will provoke the stereotypical headlines that readers go berserk for. It’s not his fault. At the sound of your voice, his hair shifts against the headrest as he turns to look at you, quick, before sighing.

“We used to go a lot during the summer, but I haven’t been back in years.” His voice is mild, extinguished for the moment. “Don’t have the time.”

“We should go,” you say it urgently, without thinking, trying to cling to something that will lighten the mood. “In the summer when it’s nice. If we plan it out right, we can maybe write it off as a work thing.” The grin on your face is probably embarrassing, but you wiggle your eyebrows playfully.

Bakugou huffs out a laugh, unsmiling, before his own brows pull down as the words, and their meaning, settle in his ears. “Doesn’t hafta’ be a work thing.”

Neither of you have spoken about what happened that day. Neither of you have spoken about what would have happened if Kirishima hadn’t shown up.

For a nerve-wracking, paralyzing moment, as your sweaty toes begin to curl in their boots, it almost looks like he’s going to.

“Look, I don't know—fuck—this is so fucking—” Bakugou’s hands go to the steering wheel and he grips it, the leather making an audible noise as his fingers tighten. He refuses to face you—mouth slightly open, surprised even though you thought you wouldn’t be—and instead glares forward at the diner, as if it’s somehow Yukiko’s fault neither of you know how to talk about this, about It.

After a moment of prolonged silence, you swallow thickly and realize he isn’t continuing because Yukiko is, in fact, standing in the window, waving the both of you back inside. When you nod at her, she crosses her arms but walks away, and Bakugou sighs.

“I’m sorry.” It blurts out before it can be stopped. A little bit of anger is left in his eyes and he directs it straight at you. “I’m sorry you have to come here on your day off and do this thing that you can't stand.”

He’s certainly tired of hearing your guilt about this, that much you’re sure of, but the expression that washes over him still surprises you; completely unhappy, even more so by what you’ve said, and almost—hurt that you keep apologizing.

“You’re so—” with a grunt, he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, clearing it, before glaring at you. No, not glaring, not quite. Something softer. “You think I’m the kinda guy that does shit he doesn’t want to, idiot?”

“Bakugou, you hate this kind of stuff,” it sounds like you’re asking for absolution and it only makes things worse.

Bakugou just shakes his head again as if you aren’t understanding what he’s saying. Maybe you aren’t.

—

11:12 A

The first thing Yukiko says when the interview finally concludes is, “the company has already set up lunch at the arena, if we could all make our way there!”

And the first thing Bakugou says in response to this is, “as fucking if.”

But by this point, after struggling for two hours with him, she must be hardening up to his bark and bite, because she doesn’t say anything or try to stop him as he beelines for the exit. Which leaves you scrambling behind him, giving a half-bow to every disgruntled person you pass while muttering, “thank you, thank you so much, we had a great time, can’t wait to see the article”.

It’s finally stopped raining, but the sun is still hidden behind a wintery haze; there’s a chill inside his car, the kind that settles in unoccupied spaces (the kind that exists when Bakugou isn’t around). It seems to calm down your boss instantly—that, and the fact that all the questions are finally done.

“That wasn’t so bad!"

Near the end, Yukiko asked if Bakugou had any other plans for his future, if being a hero didn't work out somehow, and he looked between you and her, and then her and the camera, and then you and then her and then you and—

Then he said, "What kind of stupid fucking question is that?"

He's giving you that same look right now (bewildered, disbelieving, hassled). Still, you try to charm the expression off his face by smiling and telling him,

"You did great Bakugou, I'm proud of you!" It earns you a soft snort and relaxed, avoidant eyes. "Now, to the arena!"

"'m not eatin' at that place. Who knows what type'a tasteless shit they catered." He’s quick to catch you taking out your phone and snatches it away before you can unlock it. "I know where 'm going, I don't need you trying to kill us again."

An exaggerated pout works its way to your lips. "Aw, come on Bakugou, don't you trust me?"

He huffs but the use of his name doesn’t deter him, "I'm not gettin' a traffic ticket just because you've got your head up your ass."

Though you loathe to admit it, sighing comes easier now that the SUV is putting miles of distance between you and Yukiko. You're feeling a little more playful again, like the day is falling back into its usual routine, gearing up for one of the many scenarios you've imagined. The image of her figure in the pantsuit is still at the forefront of your mind, however, so you shuffle around until you can wiggle out of your puffy jacket. What you’re wearing isn’t anything as fashionable as her no-doubt expensive ensemble, but at least you’re less of a shapeless blob.

"I'll be good this time, promise." Impishly, you extend your pinky out towards him but he only grunts in response, shifting forward in his seat as he swallows—audibly. The movement allows his collarbones to peek out above the top of his shirt, growing your unfounded need to drag your fingers along them, maybe even your breath, maybe even your mouth.

The threat he mumbles goes unheard by you, but the baritone of his voice stops you from drooling like a pervert any longer.

Even he looks a bit more calm—jaw unclenched, shoulders back and rested, nostrils unflared—and his hand goes from the wheel to the gear shift between you. Long fingers cup it loosely, drumming against it as an afterthought, though the music he once had playing has been turned down low; on the ride over, you’d passed a towering, verdant dragon statue that could be seen from the highway and promptly squealed about it, reaching to tap his shoulder with urgency. The radio had quieted, his attention momentarily snapping to you before muttering “‘m driving,”.

Watching him now, Bakugou’s face relaxes further—the permanent crease between his eyebrows softens—and you wonder if he feels it, too, this effortless comfort that shrouds you.

From what you can tell, he's heading back towards Musutafu and it's only after about 20 minutes that you begin to genuinely wonder if he's decided to blow the whole day off, if he's sick of the questions and antagonizing, if he's speeding back to your icy parking lot to be rid of you—but then he's taking an exit, grumbling about slow drivers and old people, and turning down a street that definitely isn't yours.

It's a part of the outer city-skirts that you aren't all too familiar with, where the buildings are set too close together and the parking lots are too small, fitting six cars at most. Apartments look over thin alleys, fire escapes nearly creating a bridge between bedrooms. You pass a man sleeping next to the garbage, a family of stray cats, a blue rolling cart holding brown plants, a woman selling homemade crepes—everything about the area is intimate, and that realization has your stomach flipping.

Lunch with your boss, with Bakugou, for the second time; you find yourself both anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.

Bakugou circles a block twice before parking in a stray lot, grunting something about anyone daring to say shit to him while tucking the side mirrors of his car closer to the windows. No explanation is offered as to where the two of you are eating, but you don't miss the quick glance he gives your top, which makes you feel suddenly exposed and silly, as if he could read what you were thinking when you tossed your jacket to his backseat. There is a strange crease in the fabric near your tummy due to the seatbelt, and you throw it off and yourself out of the car so that he'll stop looking.

Before you can ask where he's going, he's turning down a thin alley ahead of you. It's nearly noon, but the day is so overcast, white-golden lanterns are still lit to guide the way past an izakaya that’s closed, a gentleman outside stacking empty Kirin cases on top of one another. There are two abandoned bikes, a sign leaning against a rusty ladder that advertises a shop for refurbished furniture and hand-stitched clothes. You can’t take a step without landing on a manhole, but the sewage smell is nearly drowned out by the fresh crepes—and something salty, too.

It's silent between the two of you, save for the rustling of a beaded curtain strung up in the middle of the alley as you pass through it. Bakugou holds it open for you to step under and then keeps a hand on your back, urging you forward, though you have no idea where.

Electrical wires criss-cross into a spider-web above your head, a strange sense of seclusion emanating from their disjointed design; other than the gentleman, you are the only two between the bricks. It feels like you are the only two in the world—far from Musutafu, far from Dynamight and Yukiko. Just you and Bakugou.

When you glance back up at him, he’s already watching you—as he always seems to be, these days—and his eyes are nearly orange in the lantern light, made up of something so entirely different than they had been in the diner.

"Kirishima Eijirou was your fellow classmate, is the co-owner of your agency, and has been a Pro Hero Partner of yours for sometime." Yukiko seemed to have a talent for not only segueing into question after question, but also wording them in a way that stoked Bakugou’s aggravation. "Would you say you have a hard time trusting other heroes, or even getting along with them?"

It's no secret that Dynamight has been controversial in the past, that people still look at him and see the wild beast of a child he once was, and though there is nothing you can do about it, it still gets under your skin to see him and his intricacies boiled down to misconceptions. Patience, understanding, you wanted to tell Yukiko, that’s all you need, though you can’t exactly imagine Bakugou would have appreciated you coming to his defense. More than likely, he would have protested you getting involved or making excuses: that much you know already, because you’re used to him.

You wonder if Yukiko, or anyone, would believe the way Dynamight—the explosion hero, number 5 on the hero board—looks in fond, untroubled moments like this one (half-lidded, citrine, peaceful).

Perhaps the only thing that can be done is be thankful, that they are reserved for you.

"Move it, dumbass," he murmurs, and the soft rasp of his voice makes you smile, draws his eyes—unashamed—to your lips.

(You want to tell him to finish it, what he started that day in his office. You want to tell him to kiss you.)

(You don't.)

There is a white neon sign that is lit up just ahead, though there isn't a name, only gyudon in black. It's the source of the salty smell and, when Bakugou reaches in front of you to shove the creaky door open, no one bats an eye at either of you. No one looks up as he comes in and no one says anything until he's chosen a booth at the back, near a large window that looks out into another cramped section of a street.

Winter peonies are hanging from a window box, blushing pink against the gray painted bricks of its apartment. You can see a stray shopping cart from a market out of sight, a handful of brightly colored signs (red, orange, black) advertising all manner of baked goods and beer, ready for the day to darken just a little more before coming to life. A woman carries her baby down a flight of stairs; a stack of books on the ground appear heavy, water-logged and forgotten near three tied trash bags; two boys in university sweaters take turns looking through a magazine, a half naked woman splayed across the cover.

(Just you and Bakugou.)

An older woman comes to the table offering water and tea, though she doesn't ask if or what type either of you would like before the clay pot in her hand thuds onto the wood. She leaves while muttering, “try the Jasmine Pearl”; your boss looks so unbothered by this, by her, that you come to the conclusion he must have come here before, maybe many times.

And maybe Bakugou knows you, too, because he says, “The owner’s kid almost died in a train crash a few years back, before I was—” he trails off while gesturing to himself sarcastically, but you know what he means: before he was Dynamight. It’s all said without looking at you, eyes on the flowers, the books, snorting when he sees the magazine. “I wasn’t looking for anything in return, that ain’t the point of this shit, but the old hag wouldn’t leave me alone until I ate at her place. Food's decent.”

A grin works its way onto your face, earning a glance from the corner of his eye. “So, you took me out for a free meal, huh? Cheap date.”

Bakugou’s eyes zero in on you as a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, and you realize too late where you've gone horribly wrong. "Date?" He asks, hands clasping together atop the table as he leans across it, closer to you, "Who said this was a date?"

Now it's your turn to look elsewhere: the ceiling, the teapot, the signs (red, orange, black). "Well, um, lunch date, as in, just having lunch together. Like—you know, between colleagues, sir."

"Colleagues, huh?" The curl of his lips is sinister, too-sharp, has tea slipping down the wrong pipe in your throat and heating your entire body to a similar, boiling temperature. Some jealous part of you sings; Yukiko witnessed quite a few looks from your boss today, but she hadn't been graced with this one. "'s'that why you got all pouty about whatshername?"

Pouty?

"Pouty?" You gasp, jaw falling slack as your hands curl into fists on the table. It's as if he can see right through you, can read what you're thinking, as if you’re not the only one paying too much attention in all this time at the agency. "I was not pouty."

(You definitely were and you know it, which makes the accusation all the more worse.)

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he smirks, gently flicking one of your knuckles as you narrow your eyes at him. "Never seen you give me that look before."

You pause in the middle of sipping your water to stick your tongue out at him, unable to stop from grinning when he snickers. Amusement is an unseen string tying you together; it's impossible not to smile when he does.

He continues, though you aren't sure where he's leading the conversation, eyes flicking to the door, out the window, at his fingers brushing yours. If you didn't know any better you would say he almost looks— "and you've given me plenty in the last eight months."

Looks, he means, and it takes a moment to recover. Plenty of looks? No, if anyone is giving looks, it's him, not you. It's Bakugou with those eyes, orange and fox-like, watching you squirm like he's caught you in his trap, ripe for the taking.

(That analogy does little to settle your still flipping stomach.)

"What do you mean by that?"

It's a talent, how quickly his eyes can change, how they can go from desirous to unreadable in an instant. A part of you wonders if that's all Dynamight, a skill he's acquired since being forced into the public eye—but a part of you believes that's him, Bakugou, too accustomed to shielding his emotions.

"I mean they aren't the kind y'give a colleague."

An air duct rattles brokenly; birds land near the window; a group of school girls laugh without regard, standing together to peer at something on a phone (too close, you and Bakugou, anxious and willing, for whatever comes next).

"And what do they look like?" There are warning sirens going off in your head, vigilant in their duty to remind you of the line you’re knowingly crossing. Regardless, you unwind your fist, curl a finger around his. "Why don't you show me?"

Bakugou's eyebrows draw down, making him look pinched and offended—though you're used to that look, to him, and you know that's not how he really feels—and then the two of you are in the car outside the diner all over again, ready to talk about It.

But a shadow comes over the window, two palms flattening against the glass as the birds—and your intertwined fingers—scatter. It's the shadow of a man too large, too friendly, too red.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

"Red Riot!" The sight of him is so unexpected that the grin that paints you is entirely genuine, and you wave at him, laughing too loud for this compact, secret place when he presses his nose up against the glass. He waves back at you, then Bakugou, before dashing around the corner.

The door kicks open so fast that it bounces off the wall, jingling all the while, and that does earn Kirishima a few glares, which he meets with a sheepish wave. When his eyes land on you in the back corner, an expression so utterly smug and satisfied comes across his face that Bakugou lets out an incensed sound, signaling his impending implosion.

"Well, well, well, what do we have—"

"What. The fuck. Are you doing here." It sounds less like a question and more like a demand, as if Bakugou isn't really worried about the how or the why; he just wants Kirishima to answer so the response will stoke the fire currently flaring to life.

"I could ask you the same thing." Red Riot beams, trying to squeeze into the booth beside his partner, though the blonde doesn't budge. He almost looks like a feral cat, arching his back the closer his colleague gets. "C'mon man, this is the spot, we eat here all the time."

"Oh, do you?" At the sound of your question, Kirishima flashes you a knowing grin, though you aren’t sure what he’s so certain of: that Dynamight would bring you to this pace, or that he’d been jumpy about it. Bakugou’s neck turns the color of his eyes—which are far from orange and back to their usual blood-red hue.

The realization that he’s brought you here, to the spot, softens you considerably; allowing you into this cramped little space, behind a beaded curtain, across from a dingy apartment complex twenty minutes out of town, nestled into a web of privacy. It means something to him and Kirishima, which means something to you.

At the sight of him now, there in front of you, you're reminded of your previous conversation with the red head, how you'd argued that they didn't need your friendship, had never asked for it—and they still haven't, just placed you inside the bubble quietly, tenderly, without so much as a second thought.

"Kirishima," Bakugou grits out, and the sound of his actual name and not Shitty Hair surprises you (and the man in question), "you're supposed to be on patrol."

"I am!" Red Riot's voice goes up a defensive octave, holding out his arms and gesturing to his hero outfit. The look he sends you resembles one Dynamight had in the diner—like he doesn’t understand the charge against him—and your heart tightens without warning; they’ve been together so long, Pro Hero Partners for some time, and it shows in the finer details.

"Then why the fuck. Are you—"

"I was in the area, man, thought I'd scope this place out before lunch. Then I saw you two," he grins again, which is always the worst thing he could do in this situation, "and thought I would check on how things are going, you know, between you lovebirds—"

"Don't even—this is just a stupid fucking work thing." The finger he points is menacing; you're surprised he's not sparking. "Don't fucking say shit like that."

(And then your bubble pops.)

Bakugou is downright snarling, less like a hungry fox or feral cat and more like a rabid dog, and you can't stop the embarrassment flooding you as it comes crashing down that this abrupt change of pace is simply because Kirishima thought you two were on a—

—date—

—together as anything other than colleagues.

An instinctive voice inside your head pipes up to defend him from, well, yourself, that he's only being so vehement in his denial because he's embarrassed at falling prey to his partner’s teasing, but the immediate part of you, the emotional part, bites her lip to stop from frowning. You do the opposite—smile casually—though you can feel how forced it must be, like it doesn't fit on the curve of your lips in the moment. It must be obvious, you think, it must be.

"It's a work thing," you echo, nodding once (and you don't miss the hot look Dynamight slices you with).

Doesn't matter; Kirishima laughs slowly and winks, as if the three of you are all in on some secret joke, as if he knows Bakugou too well. "Of course, definitely! Work thing. I'll make sure to mention that to Mina later when I—"

"You aren't gonna say shit about this, unless you want me to tear you a new one." Bakugou's eyes widen a frightening amount, palm slapping against the table as he nearly upends it. Kirishima remains unphased and it makes you think of Yukiko again, of how indifferent you were to some of his answers.

(“In the past, it’s taken more than a little elbow grease to obtain an interview with you, despite being a household name. Do you find you struggle with the newfound fame of being such a public, top-ten hero? I don’t think it’s a secret that Dynamight likes his privacy.”

“I don’t have time for shit like this because I’m busy doing my job. I don’t know what else anyone wants from me, why they care how long I spend at the gym or what my beer of choice is. I save the fucking day and then I go home, what I do there isn’t their business.”

“...so you do struggle with being in the spotlight so frequently?”

“I don’t struggle with anything, because I ain't the one that’s bothered!”

Yukiko had, in fact, looked bothered, especially when you snorted and rolled your eyes at him, especially when he peered back to make an exasperated face at you, shaking his head like he didn’t understand how he wasn’t making sense.)

And that hurts, you can't lie, with how mortified your boss is at the prospect of anyone knowing you two are together, even during a work thing. It's ridiculous, but you have to blink once, and then twice suddenly, because you can't stop thinking about the up-and-down look he gave Yukiko, how well put together she seemed.

It's not as if you are neurotic enough to believe it was love at first sight, or that he's even minimally interested in her—by the end of morning, actually, you were almost certain he wouldn't have offered her a glass of water were she to spontaneously combust—but she was so chic and elegant. She probably knew 6 different languages and drove a car priced in the same range as his SUV, she had innate charm and structure, business aptitude, she was wildly impressive.

If even she couldn't entice him, then who could?

It's ridiculous. You're being ridiculous because he's your boss.

Before you're forced to try and interrupt the unhinged hissing going back and forth between your employers, the older woman returns and quiets both of them with a single look. Kirishima gives a shy smile and steps out of the way, far out of her way, and Bakugou sits back down, muttering out to her that yes, he would like two bowls of gyudon with kimchi (like always). There’s a story here, maybe many; suddenly bitter, you wonder if you could ever be authorized to hear them.

(You haven't even had time to think about what you want, but there's a yellowed, dimly lit menu on the wall and your eyes catch on chicken curry, so you repeat that and she's off again.)

The first thing Bakugou says to his partner then is, "would you get. The hell. Out of here."

(Again—it's not so much a question.)

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint—" (Dynamight growls his disagreement) "—don't wanna interrupt you two like last time, so feel free to start the smooching once—"

Kirishima cracks up when Bakugou shoots from the table, though a flash of something like panic smears out his smile. Even when he puts his hands up and starts backing towards the door, babbling all the while, your boss doesn't stop following him, palms curled the way they are when he's gonna blow something straight to hell, and he doesn't refrain from advancing until Kirishima is bumping into the door, scrambling to get it open.

And he still doesn't stop until they are both back out in the alley, for a long time.

The food arrives, the woman looking at you for the first time as she asks, "he ditch you?" When you tell her he hasn't—that you know of; maybe he did?—she mutters, "little punk" before stalking away. You wish she would have stayed to hear you agree, but you dig into the food to stop the pit deepening in your stomach.

Quietly, you go to war with yourself, arguing that it was Bakugou who had his hand on your neck and it was Bakugou with his eyes on your lips and it was your boss who insisted you call him Bakugou.

And it was Bakugou who was embarrassed by this, by you and your stupid little work thing.

You miss the jingle of the door when he returns, only offering your attention as he slumps back into the booth, red-faced. He doesn’t acknowledge you, only splits his chopsticks and stares at the still simmering bowls of food while holding his breath, before tossing the utensils on the table, wood clattering lowly as he shoves his fingers in his eyes. They dig forcefully into the muscles, as if he’s trying to stop a headache that won’t quit.

“Everything okay, sir?”

He looks stressed, more-than; another wave of guilt wracks you, though it’s hard to determine where it’s building from this time. The truth is out: he does hate this bullshit ass type of thing, and you wonder why he tried to insist he doesn’t; he should know that you know by now.

Bakugou's hand drops from his eyes to his mouth, where he pulls at his lips absentmindedly. Underneath the table, his knee won't stop jerking, just like how the fingers on his other hand won't stop drumming against the table; he's thinking, too hard.

If life were a scenario of your brain’s creation, you think he would lean across the table and take your hand fully, but instead he just kicks you lightly to get your attention. It’s so on brand for him, so Bakugou, that you realize instantly where your imagination was wrong and dare to smile, tucking your chin down to hide it.

Your boss is not smiling. "You—he's a fucking—" his struggle is almost painful, and you can feel the tug and pull of the words he wants to say and the words that are leaving his mouth. "Y’know what I meant, right?"

And it's not so much a question as it is a plea.

Yukiko calls three times before Bakugou digs into his second bowl.

—

12:24 P

The first two attempts go ignored, mainly due to the horrendous glare he gives both the phone and your hand, frozen mid-air, before he snatches it from you during the third call. He doesn't even bother with a greeting, just grunts "yeah, yeah, we're comin'," and then proceeds to eat faster than you've ever seen a human eat anything.

Some inane side of you has half a mind to bring your chopsticks together near your mouth and ask, "How many calories do you consume in a single day, Dynamight? Fans everywhere want to know," but things are still intensely awkward, made even worse now that you’re pressed for time, so you store that little funny away for later.

Later; all of your exciting scenarios have washed away with the returning rain and you'd like nothing more than to go back to the office, to return to the space with Bakugou, with Dynamight, that you know best. The ground is too unstable, shaking as easily as your breath every time he meets your eyes. It's a lot to handle, more than you expected, and that—like all things, these days—only brings back the guilt.

The entire drive back is quiet, save for a few vexed sighs, and he listens to the navigation guide in his car as you pick mindlessly at your cuticles; it feels like something's been ruined, and the silence makes you sadder than you expected, puts something in your throat that’s hard to swallow.

Sports Illustrated has rented out a stadium, one that's equipped to deal with any stray explosions that could bring about the savage cover shot they're looking for. It has a sleek and shiny gym, one prepared for an entire rugby team—which may or may not equal Bakugou and his immense presence—, a locker room, and even a small conference area that's been set up to look like a U.A classroom.

("Thought this was supposed to be about me now, not back then."

"It is," you said, standing in his office, reading from the itinerary Yukiko had forwarded. "How different you are.")

Freshly powdered and matte, she's waiting just inside the doors, looking appropriately in place against the gray-slate tiles and smile-white walls. "Welcome back to high school!"

Ahead of you, Bakugou grumbles, "fucking great."

"The makeup trailer is just down in the hall, so we can head that way! We'll start with the gym first, and then move to the 'classroom'." Just as you begin to follow him, she produces a lanyard with a plain white badge reading visitor and extends it out to you. "Just in case anyone says anything." She assures, back to beaming.

Bakugou rears his head as if she's attempted to slap him. "Who's sayin' something? She's with me."

"Oh, no, no!" Yukiko waves her hands urgently, trying to put out the fire before it starts. "Just in case!"

"Just in case what—"

"It's fine." You say, Miss Customer Service™, "I get it, it's fine." Bakugou is frowning when you look up at him, though you slip the cord over your head and flash him your best reassuring smile. Yukiko is given a warning glance, one that says this isn’t over with just his eyes before he’s stalking away.

You hope she’s not able to read that look.

It looks strange so empty, the arena, and your brain likens it to a carcass: the walls feel hollow and massive, the concrete echoing back every noise you tentatively make; you’re afraid to think too hard in case that, too, will reverberate. It’s entire design was born with thousands of people in mind, but it is just you three under a never-ending stream of LED screens, banners of sports teams COMING SOON!, closed coiling doors, blocking the advertisement of takoyaki, yakisoba and cold beer, syrupy kakigori. Bakugou eyes the portraits lining the walls, black and white candid shots of fans cheering wildly, and you don’t realize he’s slowing down until he’s right beside you.

Very vaguely, you remember the U.A Sports Festival, maybe had it on as background noise at a friend's house while chatting amongst yourselves, oblivious and uncaring to the quirk-blessed people that were using their talents to the fullest. It dawns on you how strange it is to be here, beside Bakugou, how far both of you have come. Any clear images from the three festivals he had been in are all recent, only replayed on your laptop after he'd become a household name, after he became your boss, after he started meaning something.

In an eight minute video you'd watched titled dynamight being dynamight, you remember his sixteen-year-old self standing at the microphone, saying something about winning that made every one of his peers furious, and it's just so him that you're forced to throw an elbow, smile and shake your head when he asks what your deal is

Hands shoved into the pockets of his loose, dark jeans, he elbows you back lightly. "Don't fuckin' laugh at me."

"Don't be so funny."

"Don't be so easy to amuse."

"Don't be such a child."

"Me?" The look he gives you is bewildered, though the rigidness of his eyes has melted. Muttering another threat under his breath, he leans against your arm like he's going to push you again, but he doesn't, he just stays. One of his hands comes out to gently flick the plastic badge, making a face at it like its very existence is an insult, and he looks away when it lands back against your chest, when you snort at his impudence.

"Nobody will question you," Yukiko affirms, smiling softly when you both glance back. You’d almost forgotten about her, embarrassingly enough, and she looks between you two and the lanyard before rolling her eyes, waving her hand like the idea of it is silly—even if she’d been the one to produce it. "Trust me."

The expression on her face reminds you so frighteningly of Kirishima’s, like she knows something you don't, and it only winds you up even further as Bakugou is ushered away into another exclusive bubble. Her heels click pleasantly against the concrete, between just the two of you, leading the way through a small twist of tunnels impossible to navigate without her. The floral scent of her perfume is intoxicating, filling up every cramped area she enters, and you’re ashamed that you can’t stop inhaling through your nose.

"It's nice to finally meet you," she says suddenly and offense is a reflex that rips through you, wanting to remind her that you two met hours ago, but you become distracted by the texture of her skin, more obvious now that she’s so close to you. How human; gorgeous, stunning, daunting—but perhaps not as high on the pedestal as you had placed her. "We've been emailing for a few months now."

"Oh," you blink, dumbfounded, "yeah, I guess we have."

"I meant what I said,” Yukiko stops and holds her hand out, letting you go ahead of her in the direction she's leading you. "It's easier to outrun Ingenium than it is to get an interview with Dynamight, so we have you to thank for setting this up."

"Oh," you parrot, then, quickly, before she thinks it's all you know how to say, "no, I mean, I was just as surprised that he agreed. Dynamight, uh—" she laughs at the sheepish smile you give her, "he hates these things."

"Does he? I couldn't tell." She makes such a cute face that you might have been jealous if you weren't laughing with her. It's less awkward than you might have expected it to be hours ago, less forced, and a feminist, eat-the-patriarchy side of you is immensely disappointed in yourself. "Well, we, the company, are blessed he has you to influence him."

Another dumb blink; you make a disbelieving face to yourself before looking down at your fingers. "I wouldn't say I influence him, maybe know how to wear him down, but,” you trail off as she laughs again, shrugging.

Of course you do, know exactly how to bother him, how to bug him and push every button that will set him alight; you almost want to tell her it’s in your job description to understand exactly how to get away with harassing Dynamight—and keeping your head.

Yukiko leans against your shoulder with the same sentiment Bakugou had, though you can feel the stark differences between her arm and his. “I think he’s lucky to have someone that understands him to such an extent. It’s very rare to have assistants that can accept people as they are, behind their hero persona. I'm sure you might be aware of that, though, working with others in the business.”

Around the corner is a set of large glass doors that she steps up to open, once again gesturing for you to enter, and you want to tell her to back-up, to rewind a minute or two. The gym is just as you imagined: spacious, set up for industrial sized workouts, stock full of equipment and weights that look as if they could snap your back in half, were you unable to work with them properly. The fluorescence—and the light boxes and white sheets and reflective umbrellas—confound you long enough that Yukiko whisks away further into the room, up to the cameramen from the diner and a new gentleman, one you easily conclude will be the photographer for the day.

By the time you regain your composure—and close your mouth—Bakugou is entering, cementing you to your spot, withdrawn from the attention behind a treadmill that sits taller than your head. Nerves begin to take flight in your stomach at the sight of him; upon first glance, he doesn’t seem any different than usual, handsome as ever, but then you notice how dark and long his eyelashes look, the light contour under his cheekbones erasing what little roundness there is to his rarely-seen stoic face. He looks all Dynamight: sharp angles and jutting edges, dangerously keen, ineffable.

With all the attentiveness of an enlisted serviceman, he scans each corner of the room until he lands on you, small and out of the way, and you give him a small wave (one he doesn’t return). It looks like he’s got something to say, something serious, something important, judging by the sincere expression on his face. It’s tired, worn-down, though not in the way you imagine it is when he’s had a long day of hero-ing; it reminds you of the look on his face that day in his office, when the both of you had finally let go of whatever was keeping you back, when you’d finally crossed a boundary together.

It’s longing, you realize, that look.

“—so, I think it will be best to get a few warm up shots, maybe just doing some light stretching.”

Shamefully, you realize you’ve missed the photographer’s name and are somewhat relieved he hasn’t acknowledged you outside the bubble; the idea of having to ask him to repeat it makes you want to sink into the floor, to be dragged down by the weights the size of your head.

Bakugou jumps on his feet a few times—sporting a pair of bright orange kicks—before extending his arms to the ceiling, bending them behind his back, rotating his shoulders in some deliberate way that looks almost painful. Yukiko comes to stand beside you then, unnerving you with that look on her face, and she only grins before asking, loudly,

“He looks great, don’t you think?”

He glances back at you lazily, eyes—which have darkened—trained on your face, and you begin to realize that he does, he does look great.

He looks—immaculate.

The pair of compression tights he’s wearing only highlight how strong his thighs must be and his legs seem unending, long and powerful underneath the black fabric. A loose, orange tank is covering his torso and, though you hadn’t thought much of it at first, it becomes apparent to you why it seems so slack on him: in all the places it would hug the average man, Bakugou’s body is tight, muscular, rigid. His shoulders are capped and you can see the curve of his traps due to how thin the straps of his top are, the tension in his biceps as he just stands, relaxed.

Oh my god, you think, horrified. You’ll have to wait there for the next two hours—maybe three—watching as he builds up a sweat, as he works out and grunts with effort and pants and—

“Uh, y-yeah,” the attempt to clear your throat only makes you choke, has your voice coming out as a pathetic squeak, “he—you look, yeah, great.”

The hungry sheen that will gloss over his eyes; the curve of his cheek with the smirk that rattles your knees; the poorly disguised want in his voice as he teases and taunts your revealing choice of words; any minute now he’ll spark to life, sweetheart on his tongue, taking note of the sweaty palms you run across your thighs—

But it never comes.

Instead his eyebrows pull down in that Bakugou way, jaw and fist clenching in tandem as his breathing changes, deepens, giving you that same up-and-down look that bothered you earlier. Now that it’s directed at you and not Yukiko, however, it has a different meaning, riles you up in an eager, impure way. Nothing else is said as he turns towards the weight rack, but the muscle in his cheek doesn’t release and his leg doesn’t stop bouncing until the photographer is kneeling on the floor to get a shot of him curling a dumbbell.

The ceiling becomes extremely interesting then and you spend the camera flashes and the “ooooh, great shot, just like that,”’s admiring the tiles above everyone, all 27, 28, 29, 30 of them. There aren’t any cuticles left on either of your hands by the time Bakugou sniffs, drops the weights to the floor with a sound that demands your attention—unfortunately; the photographer, bless him, whatever his name is, gets a wonderful shot of your boss’s abs as he uses the bottom of the tank to wipe the perspiration above his lip, over his eyebrows, down his neck.

You’re sure there’s a great shot of the white-blonde trail of hair leading from his belly button down into his shorts, because that becomes all too visible, too.

Oh my god, you think, horrified.

Or you think, you think; you actually say it, feeling sweat pool in all the uncomfortable spots against your skin when you realize everyone is looking at you, everyone; Bakugou’s eyebrows are raised expectantly, waiting for you to continue as he works his jaw.

“I have your headphones,” you say idiotically, as if that warrants the carnal thoughts digging through your brain, swiveling your backpack to hang in front of you for emphasis. “I—can he—does he want them? Or—I mean, do you, sir?”

Yukiko frowns apologetically, “I’m sorry, that would be like product placement and only certain brands were approved for the shoot.”

His eyes—dark, deep and dark—bounce between the two of you before he shrugs, “whatever, s’fine.”

“‘kay!” Synapses momentarily defecting, you give him a thumbs-up, smiling so hard that it hurts, until he snorts and turns around to rack the barbell.

Once again, Yukiko leans into you, flowery and smiling, and when she winks, you’re astounded by the sharp turn this situation has suddenly taken. It feels like only minutes ago you and Bakugou were eating in tense silence, too self-conscious to even look up from the designs of your plate. It feels like only minutes ago he was glaring at the badge around your neck, averting his eyes from your chest, elbowing you.

It feels like only minutes ago Yukiko was implying you were intertwined with Bakugou in some way no one else was.

I think he’s lucky to have someone that understands him to such an extent.

Understands him? No, you can hardly say that you do, why he works 100 hours a week, why he comes to the office early and stays late, why he won’t call Deku back, why he doesn’t find the time to go to Atami anymore.

Why going with you doesn’t have to be a work thing, but this does.

You don’t understand why he wants you to call him Bakugou, or why he cares if you still want to go to Backdraft’s charity event, why he tells you not to take the late train or why he gets mad if you work through lunch. You don’t understand what the hell any of this is, why he knows the kind of looks you give him and leans against you and says things like, “she’s with me”.

But you think he might understand you, to some extent.

Since you’ve known him, he’s always been too clever for his own good, too perceptive; he knows why you’re being pouty about Yukiko, notices when you shuck your jacket off, he had the locks changed on Kirishima’s door, though you’d never spoken a word to him about the effort it took to get inside, Bakugou knows—in the dark, lights off, during a meeting—when some cop has their hands around your wrist or resting on your back.

And he must know what you’re thinking, then, here, now, because he’s sitting on the bench, sweating, chest heaving, looking at you like—

—like he’s had enough, like he’s fed up with all the back and forth, the tug and pull. The looks, dancing around It, Kirishima and his hero sense, his precise timing. And you think you’ve had enough, too. You think you're anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.

“Alright, we have some good shots in here. Back to the makeup trailer, and then we can revisit U.A!”

It’s all been undone wordlessly, the ties holding you back, the wall you’ve both tried to build, and Bakugou stalks by you, eyeing you like the fox he is, like you’re the mouse caught in his trap. Before he’s fully out into the hall, he’s already pulling the tank up and over the expanse of his back and you have to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, because he knows; broader than you ever realized, embellished with pale scars, shoulders steady enough to hold the weight of Japan.

“Come on,” there’s a light hand at your elbow, manicured nails digging lightly into your sleeve as Yukiko tugs you from your trance. “I think you’ll enjoy the classroom set up.”

The corridors twist and turn again, your floral guide leading the way as she talks aimlessly about how many reps Bakugou can do—a secret she will keep to herself and away from the public, she promises with another wink. She’s kind and funny, easy to socialize with, good at making conversation; these recognitions are met with more compassion, more relief than jealousy.

As pointed as some of her questions may have seemed during the interview, it feels as if Bakugou is in good hands, that she won’t twist his words to make him out to be a jackass or a villain or someone the people shouldn’t look up to. All of her little glances to the cameraman; hopefully those footage cuts will be handled with care. You want to trust they will.

“He’s a natural, I’m surprised.” She comments, “He photographs very well.”

Not that you’ve spent any certain amount of time looking at Dynamight promo shots, but you’ve no reason to believe anything otherwise. “He’s beautiful, I think anyone would be hard pressed to get a bad photo from him.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re clapping a hand over it, trying belatedly to slap them back between your lips.

This little confession is met uneventfully, Yukiko only sparing you a glance at the sound before continuing down the concrete. She’s an angel, you realize, a god-send. “I suppose that’s a good point, Nakano has to spend at least 20 minutes with me in order to get a good headshot.” Another admission that makes her seem less superior. “It helps that he’s confident. Anyone would be, with a body like that.”

“Yeah,” you hum, noncommittal, eager to get as far away from this topic as possible.

The doors she opens are steel, painted white, and—though you’ve never been in a U.A classroom—it looks exactly as you would expect. Desks organized in four rows of five, cupboard at the back, a green sheet on the wall that Yukiko says will be edited to look like the field outside the school, a wide chalkboard that has DYNAMIGHT in an explosive font that’s meant to look hand-written.

(You want to tell Yukiko, and the others entering the room, that Bakugou has nice penmanship, better than what’s displayed on the board, if that’s meant to be “his”. It’s not any kind of cursive calligraphy, but his is neat, clean, professional.)

(Suddenly you want to tell Yukiko a few things, that Bakugou is confident, that he’ll walk all over you if you let him, but you want her to understand that he’s considerate, thoughtful in a way that the public could never comprehend. You want to tell her that he means well, that he tries in all the ways he knows how, that he asks questions that aren’t so much questions as they are pleas, you want her to understand he doesn’t do shit he doesn’t want to do.

You want to tell her that he’s made you accustomed to the heat in which he constantly burns, that his fingertips have left marks on the back of your neck, that he’s calloused you.)

And it must be written all over your face, these unsaid things that are bursting at your seams, because she smiles the same soft smile she had before you and Bakugou parted, like she understands, like she knows. A manicured hand squeezes your shoulder and then she’s exposing to you the purposeful look she gives the cameraman from the diner, a look so familiar, so pained and open you have to gasp. There’s a ring around his finger, you realize, but not around hers.

“Yukiko,—” you breathe, though there isn’t anything else that comes from you, there isn’t anything else you know how to say.

A sheen of tears fills her eyes as she shrugs, powdered mask never betraying her as she smiles complacently. “He looks great, don’t you think?”

This unspoken thing that has been laid out before you has you so shaken, so surprised that you don’t even realize she’s talking about Bakugou, that he’s arrived for class until she gestures to him with the hand that has led you here.

(He does, he does look great, you realize, he always looks great.)

They’ve dressed him in a school uniform, one that must be an oversized twin to whatever he wore in highschool—or was supposed to wear; already, he’s tugging so hard at the red tie around his neck, you fear he’ll yank his own head off.

An instinctive side of you, Miss Customer Service™, is meeting him in the middle of the classroom, waving his hands away so you can release him from his leash. “Stop thrashing,” you chide, receiving a grunt in response as he peers down at you. The starched shirt he’s wearing underneath his blazer is only buttoned up to the middle of his chest, giving you another view of his collarbones, of his clavicle, of the tendons in his throat.

When he swallows, his Adam’s apple absorbs your attention, hands halting in their movements as his own come down between you. You feel his fingers lightly brushing against your stomach, deftly working to undo the belt around his pants and all the blood in your veins stops—

—because what the fuck is he—

“Didn’t wear this stupid thing, either.” Bakugou mutters, eyes black in the studio lights surrounding you both. The clinking of the pin against the frame has you looking down, forehead just barely grazing the white-blonde hair lightly dusting his chest as he pulls the leather from around his waist in such a provocative fashion that you’re forced to—

You have to step away from him, the loose ends of his tie falling against his shirt as one of the desks digs into your back. It must look like he’s shoved you or startled you somehow, it must. Dynamight, your boss, Bakugou—he’s a sight, with his shirt half-open, tie undone, holding a belt in his hands as his pants sag down around his hips the way they always do, the way he prefers.

(It’s longing, you realize, that look.)

(It’s want.)

The photographer, Maybe-Named-Nakano—or is that the name of the diner cameraman?—steps in, a reminder that you two aren’t the only ones in the world, you and Bakugou, by instructing him to lean against the chalkboard lazily. Next to his name, which he insists ain’t really mine because it’s missing the “Lord” and “Explosion” and “Murder God”; just as you expected, just as you feared, his blood-lust gaze never leaves your face.

For some reason, you want to tell him about Yukiko, about what she’s shown you, about what she’s implied. The urge fills you so suddenly that you think you’ll explode if you don’t tell him right now, if you don’t grab him by the free collar of his shirt and shake him, meet the wistful eyes that have been ripping you to shreds all day, all week, for the past few months, longer than you can remember.

It feels like a warning somehow, this thing she has given you, that if the feeling inside you doesn’t find its way out of you and into him, you’ll be the assistant in the puffy coat, sitting off to the side, drinking a milkshake as Dynamight gets interviewed, as he twirls a silver ring on his finger because you didn’t have the fucking guts to just say—

“Fuck this,” Bakugou snaps, breathless, arms winding back to tear the gray blazer off. It makes you blink, this outburst, and you look at him as he looks at you, as he looks at Maybe-Nakano, at Yukiko, before tossing the jacket on the teacher’s desk in front of him. “I’m fuckin’ done,” he spits, already half-way out of the room.

Uh oh.

“Wait,” you call, though it’s too late, “You—I—,” instead, you just face all the raised eyebrows and the few fed up frowns (and those instantly put you on the offensive). “Sorry, I just—give me a minute! Be right back!” Miss Customer Service™ goes scrambling out into the hall, head whipping left and right as she tries to discern where her Hero(!) could have stormed off too. The only thing you see lingering in the carcass of the arena is the makeup trailer, though you hadn’t heard his feet on the steps or the slam of the door.

The berating doesn’t stop as you hurry across the lobby; what the hell is wrong with you? Clearly something has upset Bakugou, your boss, and you were too busy with your head up your ass to realize what’s ignited him. The day has been stressful enough for him, that much you managed to stay aware of, but somewhere in the costume change and makeup retouch, his mood has taken a downward spiral.

There are several jumbled apologies swirling around in your mouth as you bound up to the trailer, knocking once, then twice, before yanking open the door; if he’s that pissed, he wouldn’t have opened it for you anyway.

“Bakugou?” Empty; your voice bounces around the vacant space. It’s nothing particularly spectacular: a few vanities set up, one on the end near a sink in the event they need to wash or style his hair. The floor is carpeted and the lean-back chair looks comfortable, there’s a muted television in the ceiling corner playing videos from the Sports Illustrated YouTube channel.

God, you can’t imagine how you look, burdened by the emotional rollercoaster you can’t seem to dismount from. When you step up to the mirror, you see the bags under your eyes, not as well hidden by your concealer as you thought at 6 this morning, and only growing darker since then. However you’d attempted to style your hair is alright, not perfect, but it looks like you at least put some effort into it. All at once you are reminded of Yukiko, insecurity rising without your permission, but the shine in her professional eyes fights it off.

The door yanks open all too obviously, the same way he does his office door, his car door, and Bakugou stops on the steps as he stares at you.

Waiting, for you to say something, for him to say something, for either of you to crack.

“Hey,” you breathe, the tension in your shoulders dispersing at the sight of him. The two of you have been together all day, but it feels as if it’s been a while, too long, since you’ve talked to him, just him (just you and Bakugou). “Is everything okay?”

He’s still standing on the steps, hand on the door, glaring at you. The closer you look, you realize his teeth are tearing up the skin inside his mouth, the tie is still clenched tight in his hand, leg bouncing just enough. He’s thinking, too hard.

“Bakugou?”

The slam of the door echoes off the concrete in the lobby, making you jump as he crosses the few steps between you and him (his legs, unending, long and powerful beneath his loose slacks). A myriad of words splutters out of you, none of them quite formed or making sense, when he grabs the front of your top, forcing you back against the vanity, forcing you closer as he crowds against you. The smell of his cologne is exhilarating—expensive, like orchids and spice and comfort—and it just barely masks the lingering sweet smell he’s never without.

“What’rey’do—”

“You’re driving me fucking insane!” It’s like he’s had enough, like he’s fed up with all the back and forth, the tug and pull.

(You think you’ve had enough, too. You think you're anxious and willing, for whatever comes next.)

And then you both erupt, all at once; he presses his mouth to yours (hot, chaste, close-lipped), one hand moving from your shirt to the back of your neck to keep you flush against him. A small sound of surprise and sudden want has him curling into you, pushing you further into the edge of the table until you have to wince out a whiny “ow”.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he grunts and it does something to you, has you scrambling to sit back on the vanity, opening your thighs wide, allowing him to crash so close that he chokes on his gasp. You aren’t sure if he’s aware of it, but his hips are knocking against the wood, straining to grind in tandem with yours.

Back against the mirror, you do your best to shift so that a hand can go up your shirt, splaying out against your ribs, just under your bra, but the table shakes with how aggressive he’s becoming, how unhinged now that the line has been crossed, and things clatter to the floor. Miss Customer Service™ is an idiot, one that turns her head to see bottles spilling onto the carpet, cotton pads and Q-tips strewn out amongst makeup wipes and brushes—a wet bite to your neck has you squealing, unintentionally rutting against the hard length of him as you return your attention back to the man between your thighs.

“—fucking damn it,” Bakugou groans, slanting his head so his mouth can capture yours entirely, parting your lips, tongue stroking yours in a way that has a moan slipping from you. “You’re—”

You’ve no idea what he means to say, but you’re too dizzy to care, agreeing with a breathy, “yeah” that sounds so pornographic, it has you freezing, silently fighting off the embarrassment that threatens to ruin the mood. It seems to spur him on, to ignite him, teeth meeting teeth as he growls like it isn’t enough, like it isn’t close enough, like he’s not getting what he needs.

One of his hands leaves your face to work on the buttons of his shirt, furiously trying to undo them while kissing you so deep, so hungry, but he pulls back to look down at his chest when he barely manages to get one open, “fuck!”

The sight of him so flushed, lips spit-slick and chest heaving like he’d just finished 27, 28, 29, 30 curls has you tightening your thighs around him, a hand going to the table to inch you forward to where you need the pressure of him the most. The look he sends you is threatening, lips curling back to bare his canines like the feral brute that he is, that you need in this moment, but it only eggs you on. You want him to give you that look and many more, new ones, heady ones, the kind that will sear into your eyelids.

“‘m gonna fuckin’ lose it,” he warns, buttons clinking against the mirror as he yanks the fabric apart, tearing the seams and tossing it to the ground.

“What does that look like?” It’s a little humiliating, how out of breath you are just from kissing him; you can’t imagine how it would be if the two of you actually— “Why don’t you show—me!”

Bakugou’s hands cup around the backs of your knees before you can finish, drawing you as close to the edge of the table as he can while rutting against you, hard. A sigh of bliss spills from his mouth into yours as he reconnects his lips, and one of your hands goes to his stomach, shuddering at how tightly it tenses under your touch. After spying it earlier, you can’t help it; he huffs through his nose when you follow the trail of hair underneath his bellybutton to the top of his briefs.

“You’re—oh, fuck—” He’s coming undone in the best way, hand shaking as it slips back into place behind your neck (his fingers are searing, leaving prints on your skin that burn down to your muscle and bone, that brand you), and you can’t believe this is happening, you can’t believe this is actually, finally, happening.

The two of you have put it off for too long, tried too hard to avoid this thing that’s been threatening to carbonize you and now the flame is wild, out of control, consuming you both.

“Bakugou—”

“Katsuki,” he rasps, he pleads, “jus’—you can call me by my name,” his nose nudges yours softly, taking you back to his office, your fingers stroking over his eyelids, him nodding urgently as you said what he wanted—needed—to hear.

You arch forward into him, chest to chest, sternum to sternum, bone to bone, and travel your hands up to his neck, to scratch against his scalp. It draws a groan from deep within his chest and he succumbs, leaning against you so that he can kiss you with significance, with purpose; it’s slow but deliberate, desperate, saying all the things he’s unable to.

“Katsuki,” you say, you yield, and you don’t care that the two of you are in a makeup trailer in a stadium rented out to Sports Illustrated; you don’t care if he’s your boss and you’re his assistant; you don’t care if Kirishima knows, or Mina, or Yukiko or Maybe-Nakano or the old woman from the gyudon place; if he burns, so will you.

Because he’s gotten you accustomed to the heat, because he’s calloused you.

“I don’t want to be Yukiko,” it’s whispered against his lips and he slows down the tiniest bit, trying to listen to whatever you’re saying, “watching you from the sidelines because I couldn’t say it when I needed to.”

Katsuki can’t know what you’re talking about, has no idea of what was revealed to you, but he shakes his head slightly, nipping your lip. “What sidelines? There ain’t any sidelines.”

When he tugs at your visitor badge—the horrible, rotten, loathsome thing—you grin so hard it hurts. “I’m with you?”

His hips rock into yours unhurried, as if you have all the time in the world (just you and Katsuki), and a breath stutters out in the space between you. “‘s’right.”

And then the bubble pops.

“Is everything alright in there?” Comes a voice outside the trailer, and you strain your ears desperately, pleading to the universe that it is not, somehow, Kirishima Eijirou. “We heard some crashing.”

Yukiko—the grin in her voice translates through the door.

Oh my god, you think, you say, horrified. Your hand slaps over your mouth as Katsuki rolls his eyes, stilling his hips but not yet leaning from you. When she knocks again, he grits his teeth and barks,

“We’re come—we’ll be out in a minute, damn it!”

The fit of laughter you devolve into has him scowling, fingers pinching your sides as he grumbles at you to shaddup, though his words are laced with fatigue; neither of you have the strength not to fall into whatever this is.

“‘m never doing this interview shit again, got it?” he groans, grabbing a stray button from the vanity to scrutinize.

Giving a playful salute, you say, “sir, yes, sir.”

Katsuki glowers, rolling his shoulders in that way that looks like it hurts, in that way that looks mouthwatering—and he knows it, by the smirk growing on his face. “If you keep that sir shit up, we’re gonna be in here longer than a minute.”

In your fuzzy boots, you sweaty toes curl, biting your lip to keep from smiling as he retrieves his ruined shirt from the ground—oh, god, how were you gonna explain that to Maybe-Nakano? “Is that a promise?”

His eyes widen furiously and he pinches you again, trapping you back against the mirror as his nose bumps yours, “are you. Trying. To drive me. Crazy.”

And it’s not so much a question as it is a confession.

—

8:13 A

The photos of Dynamight are, as expected, impeccable.

Yukiko had forwarded you a few of the unedited shots through her official email address—and she had also sent several winking emojis through her personal, which she had given to you not long after the shoot.

There are only three sample photos, stamped with an embossed, Sports Illustrated watermark that takes up the majority of the picture, but you’ve been peeking at them whenever Kirishima isn’t incidentally prowling past your office. He looks amazing, changed, grown, in the untouched versions, with scars peeking out on his chest and across his nose, the stubble he refused to let them shave shadowing his chin, the deep, permanent crease between his eyebrows—it’s all him, Dynamight, Katsuki, exactly as he is.

The wooden blinds in his office are pulled open, flooding your office with the fluorescent light burning through his, and when you look up to give him a wave (that he won’t return), his eyes are already on you—as they always seem to be, these days.

Alright already, he means, get your ass in here.

The low heels you're wearing today don’t require a clasp, so slipping them on is all too easy, and you peer out of your office warily—your clipboard and the folder with the photos hugged tight to your chest—while searching for any pesky redheads. When the coast seems clear, you hurry to round the corner from your office into his, leaning back against the door—which you realize has a bright green sticky note that says FUCK OFF, SHITTY HAIR—holding your breath until it’s safely shut.

Your boss is waiting, chin in hand, one ash eyebrow raised.

“Good morning,” you beam, waving the manila folder like a prize before setting it on his desk. “I can’t wait to show you these, they turned out great—”

It’s flicked back across the desk at you, “Not interested.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You whine, shoulders slumping, “don’t you want to see the fruits of your labor?”

“Decline.”

Tapping a pen against your lips, you narrow your eyes at him, biting back a smile when he frowns. “I’ll find a way to show you, somehow, anyway! Deku called at 2:37 yesterday—”

“Decline.”

“And he did not ask you to lunch, y’old grouch.” You smirk when his lip twitches. “I just wanted to gloat that he called and asked to speak to me—”

“What the hell did he say?”

Katsuki looks bewildered; you’re in the elevator, you’re raising the sack.

“Uh, sir, are you asking about my personal conversations with your fellow—”

“I’m not fuckin’ around, what did he say?”

He’s in the corner, hissing and spitting, but you’ve still got him in your sights.

The pen taps against your lips again and you hum, “I don’t really think it’s appropriate that I divulge that information to you, sir, but if you’d like to call him—”

“I know what you’re doing, y’little brat.” His chair flies into the file cabinet behind him with how quick he rises to his feet. “And it ain’t gonna work. When I want to call him, I will.”

Shit, eluded you again. Sorry Deku, you think, maybe next time.

“Okay,” you shrug, checking the box on your clipboard, “Best Jeanist called, he wanted to congratulate you on hitting the number four spot.”

He stands straighter, suddenly looking awkward, out of place, that he’s been acknowledged. “Well, it’s about fuckin’ time.”

Clearing your throat, you lean a little more into the door, keeping your eyes trained on a not-entirely-real to do on your list. “And your romantic partner, she would like to congratulate you also.”

“Hah? My—” Katsuki’s eyes narrow suspiciously at you as he comes around the front of his desk, taking measured, predatory steps as he looms closer. “Better be something other than—”

“Tuna-mayo, I know,” you pretend to read another Post-It before dropping the act, smiling up at him as his eyes dart down to your lips. “It definitely is.”

“When ‘m I gettin’ this congratulations?”

“Later, when certain heroes aren’t in the same—”

But Katsuki doesn’t care, relying on the note tacked to the front of his door as he captures your lips with his own. The hoodie he’s wearing is making him entirely too warm, spreading to you when his hands come up to hold your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks in such an affectionate way, you think to hell with Kirishima knowing.

The clipboard clatters lightly to the floor as you wrap your arms around his waist, hands coming up to rest in the comfort of his back (broad, scarred, steady enough to hold the weight of Japan). He groans lowly when you scratch him through the fabric, though it is more a sound of contentment than lust, and you giggle against him as he pulls back to peck you once, twice, three times.

“Sir,” you try to pout, but your lips don’t listen, “this is entirely inappropriate for—”

“Cut the sir shit, or else.”

“I am never, ever going to cut the sir shit, I’m sorry, I just can’t.” Your arms tighten around him when he tries to pull away, scowling down at you.

“Then you’re gonna get fucking railed in here one day, and I don’t want to hear shit about—and don’t you ask me if that’s a goddamn promise, ‘cause it is!” Katsuki goes to kiss you again, just to shut you up since you can’t stop giggling into the fabric of his chest. “Don’t fuckin’ laugh at—”

There is a wild banging on the glass window of your office, where the blinds are still open and revealing.

Where Kirishima stands, grin lighting up his smug face brighter than you think you’ve ever seen it. Just as he gives a giant, rewarding thumbs up to the both of you, Katsuki tears the door of his own office open, shouting out a raging—

“That’s it!”

—before Eijirou’s wild laughter can be heard echoing off the high-vaulted ceilings of the agency. The sound makes you laugh, feeling so full in your chest at the familiarity of it—Red Riot’s sunshine, Dynamight’s inferno—and it has you wondering if maybe you’ve been inside this bubble a lot longer than you realized, if maybe you’ve been inside it all along.

“Nerd (Affectionately)“ SMAU Master List

Bakugou Katsuki x Gn!Reader

Summary} You’ve been in love with Bakugou since you two were little. Pining after him for years gets tiring when all he does is push you aside. Maybe it’s best for everyone if you two stayed friends. It’s not like he’s going to have a moment of realization of his feelings for you…right?

Warnings} Quirkless!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Cursing, Asshole Bakugou, Humor, there is no Twitter Handle in this SMAU, also bad memes that humor me, SLOW BURN. (Please let me know of any typos/mistakes)

Status} Completed!

Chapter 1: It’s Simp Time

Chapter 2: Designer Boots

Chapter 3: Izuku Said “Ass”

Chapter 4: Friends It Is

Chapter 5: A Smelly Kind of Smell

Chapter 6: Movie Night

Chapter 7: Super Secret Plans

Chapter 8: The Photo

Chapter 9: Firework Show

Chapter 10: Lunch

Chapter 11: She’s Good For Him

Chapter 12: Back and Unpacked

Chapter 13: Plenty Of Evidence

Chapter 14: From Now On

Chapter 15: Pop Off Izuku

Chapter 16: Not Ever Again

Chapter 17: Effort, The Bare Minimum

Chapter 18: Making It Count

Chapter 19: By A Millisecond

Chapter 20 (Final): About Damn Time

Final Words

[Blog Master List]

As You Command Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Dragon king! Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Since you were children, Prince Bakugou has taken a special interest in making your life as hellish as possible. As his future advisor, it's your job to grin and bear it, no matter how much you wish you could teach him a lesson. When the chance for you to leave the kingdom presents itself and the Prince stops it, you're sure it's just another one of his poorly planned pranks that will end badly for the both of you. But could there be more to his actions than you realize?

Genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, romance

Series Warnings: (I will add specific warnings to each chapter) this series will contain smut, cursing, violence, kidnapping, character death, drinking, and may mention dark themes (non-con/dub-con)

Based off this blurb

Schedule:

Chapter 1: February 1st

Chapter 2: February 7th

Initiation

So... that one anon on Jo's page asking for Dabi and Bakugou smut. It uh accidentally happened. This was in continuation to the whole biker au thing. @lady-bakuhoe Jo I can't believe we deadass wrote a whole ass smut fic in discord 💀💀💀

All characters 18+

Biker au. Dabi x reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Warnings: Sexy time themes. Dub/con, fisting, recording and probably bad grammar. Well we thought you guys would enjoy this so here ya go ^.^:

Fuck couldn't add them all text continued here:

Jo:

“Fuck, so fucking tight.” Bakugou growled, your tight hole preventing him from getting his length all the way in. You clenched desperately around his length at the intrusion, a burning sensation filling your lower half as Bakugou landed a harsh smack to your rear, “calm the fuck down, otherwise it’s gonna hurt so much more.”

Bakugou leaned back to spit on your asshole, leaning back as his length slipped out of you before pushing forward again. Trying to sheath himself fully inside you. “Just force it in, I can tell she fucking wants it,” Dabi held the camera towards your face, capturing your pained expression as he weaved a hand into your hair, pulling your head back, “isn’t that right, doll? You knew what you were doing when you let us in. You fucking wanted this, didn’t you?”

You tried to splutter out an excuse, a denial but Bakugou’s cock continued to press inside your tight asshole, filling you and making it hard for you to think straight “filling your virgin asshole up, hah.” He groaned when he was finally buried to the hilt inside your tight rear, his hands moving back to squeeze your cheeks as he took the phone back off Dabi, angling it towards where your bodies were connected. Using his hand to spread one of your cheeks so he could capture his cock disappearing inside your tight little hole. “I’m gonna make you a gaping fucking mess, Princess.” Bakugou gave your ass a smack, watching the skin jiggle as he worked his hips against you, feeling you squeeze around his cock. “Gonna paint those walls white with my cum. Fill your slutty asshole right up.”

You mewled at his words, biting down on your lower lip to try and block out the throbbing pain. Dabi was sick of being ignored as he moved back to slap his wet cock back against your cheek, pressing down on your lips to try and get you take him back inside, but you shook your head in defiance. This was too much. They’d lied to you, what if your father came home and saw you like this? Dabi grunted, moving his hand down to squeeze your nose, blocking off your airway. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, doll. The hard way is gonna hurt a lot more.” His hand weaved its way around your neck, holding tight until your mouth opened gasping for air.

Unable to get your fill as Dabi has already thrust his cock back inside your wet heat. “Shit. Look at you. The perfect little cock slut.” He began to laugh as he held your hair, thrusting himself into your mouth at a brutal pace, “not so innocent anymore, are we?”

Monst: Bakugou groaned at the sight of Dabi's cock bulging against your throat. He reached out his hand clasping it around your throat Dabi groaned hunching over as he aimed to drown you in his semen. Bakugou never thought he'd enjoy using someone like this. But you looked so fucking perfect ruined like this. You only let out muffled whines and tremors as they abused your holes. And as Bakugou slammed into you he moved his fingers and dipped them inside of your slick cunt. He felt you clench down on them and snickered.

"Your about to cum again aren't you? H-here you were pretending to be innocent and your about to cum from me fucking your ass." He mocked.

"Ngh you fucking slut. What would your old man say huh?" Dabi goaded his hips stuttered. He came with a grunt, his cum slipping down your throat. He stayed lodged in your mouth talking the phone from the new recruit; waiting for Bakugou to paint your walls white. And when you felt his nails dig into your hip you knew he was close. His hand that would occasionally come down on your ass went to the other hip as he continued his frantic pace.

It was then that Dabi moved being gracious enough to offer you another orgasm by rubbing shapes into your clit. Bakugou's hot seed filled your insides moments later. And Dabi pulled out of your mouth to hear you cry out as you came. He let your head fall against the floor as he moved around your body to record. He spread your lips zooming in on your empty contracting cunt. He felt himself start to grow stiff agian when Bakugou pulled out and his cum sloshed out of you.

True to his word Bakugou left you gaping. And Dabi's fingers moved to push the milky liquid back into your hole. He didn't know how to end the recording and just cut it off after closing in on your face.

You all panted to regain your breaths when you finally spoke.

"Fuck Dabi I don't think I've ever been this stretched out." You moaned as you sat up.

He didn't answer turning to dig into the fidge. Bakugou was confused when he handed you a cold one.

"Bakugou meet (Name). (Name) this is Bakugou." Dabi introduced opening a can and tossing one to the blonde.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked annoyed.

"Initation." You answered casually reaching over to open a cabinet. You shuffled through it and pulled out a bag handing it over to the blonde. "Most people pussy out. But I'm glad you didn't. We should do this again some time" you winked standing up on wobbly legs.

"Hold up? What about your father?" He asked still confused.

"He hasn't been around for ages." You mused. "But daddy did tell me not to open the door." You grinned.

"And that's why you got punished for it you fucking slut." Dabi added.

Bakugou wanted to rage at the trick but when he looked down to the bag he grinned. He understood that they couldn't let just anyone join and at least he got a good fuck out of it. And more importantly he was now part of 'Endeavor's demise'.

"You guys wanna go again?"

Husband for Hire (Complete)

🌸 You need to be married by the end of the year to inherit your grandfather’s land, and Bakugou needs a roof over his head. The two of you can make a fake marriage work, right?

Bakugou x Fem!Reader 🌸 Stardew Valley Crossover

Updated Tuesdays and Fridays, any times indicated are in PST

Warnings: As usual, my multi-chapter pieces usually contain angst with a happy ending. Warnings at the start of applicable chapters include but are not limited to: Angst, blood

Stardew background: In game, each season is 28 days and I modeled the passage of time off of that rather than typical months. Characters and lore from the game are included, but it should be somewhat easy to pick up on relationships/connections and whatnot.

🚜 Chapter 1 – Spring 14

🚜 Chapter 2 – Spring 15

🚜 Chapter 3 – Spring 24

🚜 Chapter 4 – Spring 28

🚜 Chapter 5 – Summer 5

🚜 Chapter 6 – Summer 11

🚜 Chapter 7 – Summer 22

🚜 Chapter 8 – Summer 28

🚜 Chapter 9 – Fall 4

🚜 Chapter 10 – Fall 6

🚜 Chapter 11 – Fall 15

🚜 Chapter 12 – Fall 23

🚜 Chapter 13 – Winter 5

🚜 Chapter 14 – Epilogue

Tag list: @boosyboo9206, @parker-natasha, @niicevibe, @bakugous-trauma, @pattys-got-cakes, @b-u-m-b-l-e , @sluttybunny-lounge, @cinnamon-n-roses, @cefni, @thewintersoldiersmetaldick, @bunseren-burner, @cloudsgathering, @kryptidkid, @l-ovey, @cherryriotcrash, @peachoasis, @beaniebanby , @fanlovedlt , @quilliamfears , @askerror87, @emerald-souldesert, @denkisclown, @chims-kookies, @hjonky, @senaraphoenix, @animeobsessed03, @theartofhotchinthesnow, @juviathewaterwomen, @lanaxians-2, @nappingwithyuuji ,

◇ Complete

◇ After five years together with Midoriya, you find yourself newly single and heartbroken. When he starts dating again, you shout a bold-faced lie to the universe that wraps you and Katsuki Bakugou together for better or worse. In order to save face, you need to work together with the grumpiest man on the planet.

◇ Verity (noun): The quality or state of being truthful or honest. Also your Hero Name to go along with your quirk of forcing others to tell the truth.

ProHero!Bakugou x Fem!Reader (Brief Midoriya x Reader)

◈ Pro Hero, Fake engagement

!!: angst, sex, cheating

◇ Chapter 1: It Starts With a Breakup

◇ Chapter 2: Life Goes On

◇ Chapter 3: Always Second Place

◇ Chapter 4: How Did It End Up Like This?

◇ Chapter 5: Dynamight and What’s-Her-Name

◇ Chapter 6 (18+): Fuck You

◇ Chapter 7: Leftovers

◇ Chapter 8: A Ring, a Red Carpet, and an Ex

◇ Chapter 9 (18+): Sex on the Beach

◇ Chapter 10: A Lie by Omission is Still a Lie

◇ Chapter 11: What is Love

◇ Chapter 12: The Truth Will Set You Free

◇ Epilogue

Tag List: @thatfanfictionwriter , @loving-katsuki , @dienamights , @katditca , @boosyboo9206 , @alex-sulli , @hypernovaxx , @daddyissxes , @ti-mame , @thekaylahub , @ms0milk , @nerd-nowandforever , @minninugget , @tiny-wooden-robot , @icedemon1314 , @xviternity , @naiomiwinchester , @lovinkiri , @sincerelyyrosemary , @abnormalanimeweeb , @satogg , @liberace2 , @acid-rain27 , @itgetzweird08 , @chaoticorganizedmess , @neurovascular-entrapta , @kiwiified , @bnha-free-writing , @fishbolw , @xxkay15xx , @zombiewarprincess , @izuwumidoriya , @blue-enigma , @mommy-without-milkers , @plaggi , @budibbly , @hiqhkey , @great-goddess-of-sin, @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory , @zyxys1 , @doonaandpjs , @chifuyus-slut , @aceredhairliberal , @dxrkdreamer , @archdag , @bakugospartner , @cxshmereclxud , @nuthonii, @sukisprint, @juneday-romanoff , @chixkadee , @hallothankmas ,

You don’t turn back. No matter how much his screams tear at your heart. No matter how painful each step was to take. Maybe your heart won’t ever heal from this. Maybe you’ll never be happy again.

But at least the man you love has a chance to be.

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader, Bakugo Katsuki x Uraraka

Warnings: Contains mature content, mentions of cheating, alcohol, pregnancy and anxiety triggers

A/N: This was supposedly a one-shot that turned into a series. ❤ Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I loved writing it!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Bonus: Alternate Ending

can you please do some angst anything, like a one shot or just something, my heart hurts

Had been a while since I did a request, sorry I only just saw this bebe. Here ya go.

Bakugo has always had the prettiest eyes. Crimson orbs that some would find intimidating but to you, it looks like rubies that you can spend hours staring in awe at. They're fairly expressive too. What his mouth can't ever say, those damn eyes express.

That was why you can tell it's real.

He's happy. Really happy.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he talks animatedly on the phone. A small smirk tugging the corners of his plump lips. "Shut up, idiot." You hear him say, shaking his head. "I gotta go, Y/n is waiting- So stop bothering me already." But you know from his tone and the way he's smiling to himself that he doesn't mean it.

And then, you hear him say, "Yeah, yeah. I love you, too." His voice bleeding of sincerity and adoration that you had to look away. You scoff to yourself, a wry laugh escaping you as you train your eyes on the logo on the steering wheel. Doing, trying anything, to keep your mind off the ache growing in your chest.

You hear the car door open and you plaster a smile up at him. He mutters his quick apology as he straps in. "Thought you'll never hang up. Simp." You say teasingly, covering up for any trace of the hurt you're feeling inside. A chuckle escapes you when he playfully punches your arm. "I'm no fuckin' simp, shithead!" Bakugo says, laughing a little. "Step on it, we're going to be late."

You rub the spot on your arm that he hit. Not because it hurts but to ground yourself. That this is all you'll ever be. The buddy. The best friend he banters and playfights with, the sidekick he always choses to work with.

Nothing more, nothing less.

It didn’t help that your assignment tonight is surveillance. You don't think you could bear all the hours ahead with him. Knowing Bakugo, he'd probably start talking about her. After all, you had just gotten back from a mission with Todoroki. And usually, once you got back home, Bakugo would be telling you all about the things that happened to him. It had been that way for years. Something you looked forward to. Or at least, you used to.

You already know the things he'd tell you tonight, and you already know he's about to completely break your heart.

Bakugo notes the activity of the suspect you two had been watching from the building across the rooftop you two had set up on, while you softly mutter the details on the communication device in your hand, feeding the information to your police partners. When the person under investigation head to bed, you two relaxed a little.

"Hey, so you must’ve heard." Bakugo starts as you stretch your neck. Oh no, here we go. You blinked and put on the smile you've been rehearsing since you have taken the plane ride back home. "Yeah, it’s on every tabloid." The forced laugh you let out even had you impressed. "You're back together. Again. Woohoo. Big surprise." You say monotonously.

"Yeah. Fuckin' paparazzi won't leave us alone." Bakugo rolls his eyes. He stretches too, mimicking you as you roll your shoulders and crack your knuckles. "It just happened." He then says. You swallow hard, not really wanting to hear more.

"You know that charity shit we were supposed to attend together?" He asks and you nod numbly. Of course, you do. You were so excited that Bakugo asked you to accompany him to this charity ball as his date. You both even planned to match  outfits like how stupid kids would want to do with their best friends.

"Yeah, well, she came that night and she happened to be seated at our table."  He says it like he still couldnt believe his luck, stupid beautiful smile adorning his face. He then went on to say how she had moved to your vacant seat so he can have someone to talk to in the event filled with A-list celebrities and government officials he had no fucking interest in mingling with. "We got to talking and next thing I knew, we were the only ones left in the fucking ball." He laughs.

Normally, you adore this ugly laugh of his. And normally, you would have scold him for being loud and potentially giving away your position. If only your heart wasnt breaking into billions of tiny pieces in your chest.

"Wow," you roll your eyes and looked away, the fake smile you had on your face faltering. "Glad to hear you had way more fun without me." You say, laying the sarcasm thick. You hadnt meant to but you tremble, a soft sob almost escapes you.

Bakugo frowns and shrugged his jacket off, thinking you were just cold. He puts it over your shoulders and when you just stared at him, he takes your arms and puts it through the sleeves. Bakugo zips it up to the collar and puts the hood over your head, even pulling your hair free before smoothening it around your face. It’s his fucking actions like this that had you hoping. Had you thinking that maybe, just maybe, there's something there.

You look up him, thinking, why couldn’t it be me? Could it have been me if I were there with you that night?

"Y/n." Bakugo frowns as he says your name so uncharacteristically soft. You then notice the worry that paints his features as he slowly reaches to wipe your cheek. Bakugo's frown deepens when new ones replace the tear he had just wiped away.

A wave of panic rises in your chest as you replace his hands with your own, harshly wiping your tear steaked face.

"Shit, sorry." You force a laugh. "The fucking wind is too strong up here." You reasoned but you are not fooling him. "I'm gonna go in first, you take first watch." You got up, making a beeline for the door but a strong grip around your wrist stops you.

"Y/N, look at me." Bakugo says, his voice so low you barely heard it. He calls your name again but you still didn’t turn. Your face crumples and more tears flood your eyes.

Taking a deep staggering breath, you wiped your cheeks with your free hand and cleared your throat. "Bakugo, please. I'm tired." You tried to tug free again but he kept his vice grip on you.

He pulls you and made you face him. You can see Bakugo was breathing a little heavily too. "Y/n, is there something we should talk about?" He tries to meet your gaze but you kept your eyes on the ground. Bakugo asks again but you clench your jaw and shook your head stubbornly. "No, there is nothing to talk about."

Bakugo was getting frustrated you could tell. Still, he takes a deep breath and held your face with his other hand, asking, "Then what's wrong? Damn it, tell me." 

Everything, You think to yourself.

You're the one whose been there for him all this time. And it took one night for him to fall in love with her all over again.

You want to be happy for him because you can tell that he's truly happy. But you just can’t.

You love him but he loves someone else.

You know he loves you, but never the way you love him.

Everything is fucking wrong but there's nothing you can do about it so instead you say stubbornly, "Nothing."

To your surprise though, he grabs your shoulders and shook you. "What the hell is wrong with you, then? Why won't you fucking tell me??"

"Nothing. Is. Wrong."  You articulate, shrugging from his hold to take your seat back by the ledge. But he grabs hold of you again, this time catching your hand.

"Stop it." Bakugo grits his teeth. "I know something is wrong. I know you." He says and his eyes widened when you let out a bitter laugh.

"No, you don't." you deride, shaking your head.

"Bullshit! Of course, I fucking do!!" He yells at you. "We've been friends for years!!"

You glower back at him, feeling the stupid tears stinging at your eyes again and your breathing get shallow. "Some friend you are then!" You yell back. Bakugo grimaces, looking at you like he's never been so offended before in his life. He was actually fucking hurt.

"You don't know shit about me, Katsuki." You jab a finger at his chest. "You don't even fucking care about me enough to actually get to know me! You only keep me around because I standby you through everything!" Bakugo staggers a step back when you pushed him with all your might, tears endlessly streaming down your face and neck.

"God, if only you'd have really taken a close look, gave me even a shard of your fucking attention," you whimper, your hands balling into fists against his shirt. "Then you would have known," you feel like youre losing your strength, like your knees could give out underneath you, "that I stayed by your side all these years because, b-because,"

Bakugo swallows hard, his hands circling your wrists. Deep down he sorta knew but he was just denying it to himself. Because he knows he could never reciprocate your feelings.

Please don't fucking say it..

But you do,

"I am in love with you."

A gush of relief floods you, finally having said it after all this years. You closed your eyes so you wouldn't see his reaction. His silence and his hold slipping off of you were enough.

"Y/n, I-"

Bakugo didn't know what to say. His hand is twitching because he wanted to reach out and hold you but he doubts that that is a good idea right now.

"I'm sorry-" he starts, warily trying to reach for your hand again but you shake your head and slipped your hands in the pockets of your jacket. His jacket.

"Me too." You cut him off. "I.. can't be friends with you anymore." Your voice breaks as you admit the sad truth. Bakugo's eyes widened. You can't mean that, right? But the lifelessness of your voice made Bakugo's heart clench. You take a deep breath and bore your gaze to the ground.

You just ruined your friendship. But you guess that's good. You'll finally have a reason to not be by his side all the time anymore and endure the pain of this unrequited love you've had for him for years.

"Y/n-" he tries again. It’s the only thing he could do. Try. Because you're slipping away and he doesn't want you gone. But you scorn away when he tries to reach for you again.

"I cant," you whimper, "I'm sorry."

The days that followed consisted of you taking in other assignments that lead you to work with someone else. Whenever you'd bump into Bakugo, you'd keep your eyes trained ahead while Bakugo couldn't help but stare and long to talk to you again. But he lets you be, thinking, well, hoping that you just needed time. That one day you two will be alright again. Because fucking hell, it's only been days and he misses you so damn much already.

He realizes how present you were in his life. Realizes how badly he took you for granted. Realizes that every morning he wakes up, it’s your texts he first checks. Realizes that with even the smallest inconvenience, it's you he wanted to call and vent out to. Realizes you're that one person he can say anything to, things he couldn't tell even his own damn girlfriend.

Because you were his person. That one person who always listened without judgement and takes him as he is.

Because you got his back no matter what.

Because you.. loved him.

Fuck.

Bakugo throws his arm over his eyes as he feels that pang of longing and regret. He finds himself jumping out of bed. It was supposedly his day off but he comes to the office running.

But when he reaches your desk, you were nowhere in sight.

And on his desk, was your resignation letter.

꣑୧ summary: While training at UA you get partnered with the one and only Katsuki Bakugo the boy whose bullied you since the day you came to UA. What happens when he accidentally hurts you durning training and his real feelings for you come out?

Katsuki Bakugo x Fem

Todays training was harder for you because instead of training with your usual partner, Mina you were stuck with Katsuki Bakugo. Everyone in class had to spar with their partner until one either wins or gives up, and there’s no way in hell Bakugo was going to give up so here you two were the last people still sparing since neither of you have won or gived up.

His fist comes crashing down on your cheek “Come on quit playing defense ya damn extra, wasting my time” he snaps at you moving back to make another explosion.

Right before it can hit you, you’re sliding away and kicking his legs out right from under him causing him to fall down. Neither of you have noticed the class watching the two of you spar so when you kicked Bakugo down everyone was shocked and talking about it only adding onto his anger.

He yells before running up to you and letting explosions out of both his hands and aiming them at you. Before you could move one of them hit you smack in the ribs causing you to fly back into the nearest wall. You back hits the wall the would going blurry as you start to fade out of consciousness.

The last thing you hear before it all goes back is your teacher yelling at Bakugo and Mina telling you it’s all going to okay as she helps pick you up with Kirishima.

The boy who caused this watches as they carried you down to the infirmary his red eyes not leaving your frame till your out of sight. He groans one of his hands coming to run through his head pushing it back. He didn’t mean to hurt you at all, in fact the whole time you were sparing he wasn’t going full out because he was so scared to hurt you.

Even though since he met you at the UA exams he’s been bulling you and constantly belittling you like he does to Izuku. But with you it was different he never went so far to ever put his hands on you. He just didn’t know what to do with you, he never felt like this for anyone before. When his heart would start beating faster when you came around the way his palms would get sweaty and his brain all foggy. He didn’t know what this feeling was but he blamed you for it so at every chance he got his either yelling at you or one of your friends when they’re around.

This all led to him sitting in infirmary waiting for Recovery Girl to finish healing you. From what he could hear you hid your head against the walls and had some broken ribs. The guilt kept growing and growing the longer he had to wait.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you the way you never backed down from a fight and how your hair somehow was always shiny. The way your face lights up when you see something that makes you happy the way-

Before he could finish his thoughts, Recovery Girl walks towards him “Bakugo a surprise seeing you here, if your waiting for your classmate L/N she’s asleep she will be awake soon you can wait with her if you would like” the small older woman says she before walking away to help another person.

He nods not muttering a word to her before walking towards your bed he pulls a chair over and sits next to you. His hand twitches to touch you but he holds back both his palms holding onto the arm rests of the chair to stop himself.

The first thing you feel when coming back to consciousness is something soft under you. Groaning a bit you slowly open your eyes one hand coming to rub your face as you take in your surroundings. Turning over you see Bakugo staring at you now up from his chair standing next to you with his arms crossed.

He glares at you “So now you finally awake tell me what the hell you’ve been doing to me, NOW” he commands staring down at you.

Confused you try to sit up wincing at the soreness of your body, his eyes flicker down to your waist that Recovery Girl healed earlier. You look at him and mimic his stance “What are you talking about Bakugo? I haven’t done anything to you” you say defensively.

Bakugo shakes his head “STOP LYING EXTRA YOU’VE BEEN MAKING ME ALL FUZZY AND WEIRD HAVING MY HEART BEAT FASTER WHEN YOUR AROUND SO TELL ME NOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO ME” he yells at you telling you all he’s been feelings about you.

After hearing his words you freeze staring up at him with wide eyes. Of course Bakugou has no idea what it’s like to have a crush on someone all he’s been focused on his whole life is being the best and not letting anyone stop him.

“Is that really how you feel when you’re around me Bakugo?” You ask the boy slowly pushing your feet down on the floor just sitting on the bed staring up at him.

He nods “Yeah and I don’t know what you did but all I think about is you it’s weird make it stop now ya damn stupid girl” he grunts looking away from you at so let focusing on the wall next to him. His body still faces you as you slowly push yourself up to stand up.

You stand toe to toe with the boy and you look up at him “Can I try something Bakugo?” you ask him quietly scared of his reaction, he turns and looks at you before nodding his head.

One of your hands comes to cup his cheek bringing his head down to you, he slowly closes his eyes and you lean in pushing your lips against his slightly chapped ones. Before he realizes he’s already kissing you back  slightly inexperienced once he realized what he’s down he pushes you back from him and glares at you.

“WHAT THE FUCK, you can’t just kiss me what the hell is wrong with you. That’s weird why are you so wei-“ Bakugo starts to say before getting interrupted by your lips on his again this time you pull away first from the boy.

His mouth is agape like a fish out of water as he stares down at you. Bakugo turns his head away from you once again staring at the all refusing to speak.

You sit down on the bed “I like you too dumbass why else would I have let you get away with all your pointless bullying” you admit to him watching as he starts to pace back and forth.

Bakugo pauses and looks at you “This is what liking someone feels like? I don’t want it I can’t be weak” he growls sitting down in his chair again.

“It’s not being weak Bakugo if you don’t want anything with it’s fine” you shrug your heart dropping to your stomach as you turn your head away from him trying to stop your eyes from tearing up.

His red eyes snap towards you “No I want you around me all the time, away from Denki and everyone else you should be mine and if you make me weak I swear to god I’ll blow your ass up” he growls standing up and sitting next to you on the infirmary bed.

Turning your head towards him a smile playing on your lips “Really you want to be with me?” you ask him your heart slowing falling back into its usually rhythm.

He nods “Yeah whatever your mine so stay away from those damn extras in our class and your gonna train from me after school from now one I can’t have a weak girlfriend” he states before getting up and walking out of the infirmary leaving you shocked.

There was no way Bakugo Katsuki just made you his girlfriend without even asking you. But that didn’t stop the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you think about the kiss you two shared.

What you didn’t see was your best friend Mina watching you from the doorway after Bakugo left, and she may have eavesdropped just a little bit.

my hero academia masterlist

thanks so much for this request send some more guys and please repost for me I’ll be posting more since I now have more free time <33

꣑୧ Head cannons of Poly Bakugo and Izuku who catch feelings for the sweet new side kick at there agency

Poly!BKDK who realizes when they’re already pro hero’s together that they want a third in their relationship when they meet you. Both of the men have gotten taller, stronger and bigger since they graduated UA and started their own agency.

Poly!BKDK who can’t help but notice the new younger sidekick who had joined there agency.

Poly!BKDK Bakugo can’t help but smirk every time he notices Izuku staring at you as you train. He can’t help himself when he sees you training so he always “helps” you. By helping he just yells at you and finds every excuse to hold you and spar so he has a reason to touch you.

Poly!BKDK Izuku who realizes you the one for them when you’re able to make snarky comments at Bakugo without getting fired or hurt. Who smiles to himself when he realizes Bakugo has taken a liking to you.

Poly!BKDK who subtly starts finding more reasons to be around you. Deku who sometimes makes you work longer so he has a reason to take you out to eat since you missed lunch. Bakugo who drives you home at night because it’s “dangerous for sweet girls like you to be out so late” and who walk you to your apartment so he can get a sneak peak inside your home.

Poly!BKDK who constantly try’s to stay around you at work and keep you safe. By keeping you safe they try to make sure at-least one of them goes out with you when you’re doing any sort of hero work.

Poly!BKDK Bakugo who flirts with you constantly and calls you “his best girl” during training.

You kick Katsuki in the stomach and grab his arm trying your hardest to twist the muscle behind him. He smirks and flips you over onto the floor straddling your waist “Nice try kid you almost got me” he states still holding you down. You can’t control the blush that heats up your face at the pro hero’s words and position he has you in.

“T-thanks Dynamite” You mumble looking anywhere but at his face.

Izuku walks through the door stopping at the scene before him. He smiles to himself seeing how flustered you seem to be and how cocky his boyfriend looks on top of your body.

Poly!BKDK who one day after work decided to just ask you out.

After changing out of your hero suit you get your stuff together about to leave the room before Bakugo walks in “Ready to go?” he ask walking up to your grabbing your bag from your hands and leading you outside after hearing you say yes.

He opens the back door for you and you get in a bit confused on why he demoted you to the back until Izuku turns around in his seat “Hey how your day sweetheart?” he asks his big green eyes looking you up and down.

“It was good nothing really happened today it was one of those quiet days ya know” You express leaning back in the seat as Bakugo starts driving. You and Izuku talk for the whole drive just gushing about other hero’s you two admire while Bakugo listening a smile adorning his features.

Once the car stops you grab your stuff thanking the two boys for the ride but before you can open the door for yourself Izuku has already opened it. You look up noticing both hero’s staring down at you “H-hi?” you ask confused as you notice the Izuku hands start fiddling with one another.

“Go out to dinner with us Friday” Bakugo demands only making you more confused.

Izuku groans slapping the blondes shoulder “You can’t ask her out like that Kacchan” he expresses. The two boys start arguing with one another on how to ask out a woman as you stand there confused.

You grab both their arms making them look at you “You two? Want to go out with me?” you ask the two of them before letting go of their arms stepping back.

Poly!BKDK who takes you on the best date of your life, treating you to the best dinner you could imagine. They bring you flowers and then take you out to walk through a park looking at the nature and the stars.

Poly!BKDK who admits they’ve liked you since you first got hired at the agency. Who have been together for years and only until you showed up realized they were missing something or someone.

my hero academia masterlist

Please repost for me and send some requests in I love getting the new ideas to inspire me

ALSO DO WE WANT A PART 2?????

꣑୧ summary: Being needy and waking up Katsuki Bakugo at night to help you out

Turning over in your bed you whine, a achy needy feeling between your legs that hasn’t gone away since you woken up. Glancing at the clock it reads 2:18am and you groan sitting up on your bed. An idea pops into your head and you slide a pair of fluffy slippers on before sneaking out of your dorm. It wasn’t anything new in UA since it was your third year and everyone had grown up quite a bit.

Tiptoeing to your boyfriend’s dorm you use the spare key and open the door sneaking inside.

He lays in his bed shirtless one arm over his stomach as he snores quietly. You giggle a bit and slip the shoes off climbing into bed with him.

Rubbing his cheek softly you mutter “wake up” a few times trying to get him up nicely so the explosive boy doesn’t get to mad at the fact that his peaceful sleep is being interrupted.

Sitting up on your knees in his bed you stare down at the still sleeping boy before straddling his lap. Dipping your head into his neck you start to peeper soft kisses to his skin.

Soon enough he’s groaning under you his eyes fluttering open at the feelings of your lips on his neck. The bed creaks as he pushes himself to sit up with your still in his lap, you squeal “katsuki your up.. finally” you groan wrapping your arms around his neck.

“The fuck you doin ya damn tease” He grumbles looking away from you to the clock before his eyes widen “At two in the morning, damnit why they hell you woke me up?” he asks his hands finding your waist.

Staring at your boyfriend you pout slightly “Need you- please” you whine going back to kissing his neck. The blonde boy smirks at your words his ego growing.

He squeezes your waist “Mhm needed me huh” he mumbles one hand moving to the back of your head, pulling you away from his neck. You stare into his eyes biting your lip “What do you want baby, huh go one tell me” he whispers to you his face moving closer to yours.

“Your fingers please, mine don’t do it as good as yours- can’t cum without you Kats” You admit to him before closing the gap between you both. His lips slightly chapped kiss back immediately his head on the back of your head holding you in place as he deepens the kiss between you both.

Bakugos hand moves from your waist down to where you needed him most. He rubs you over your thin pajama pants, he can feel how wet you are. Pulling away from the kiss you chase his lips but he pulls you back “This wet already tch” he smirks before moving his hand away to go into your pants. His fingers rub your clit lightly “Only my fingers can make you cum huh baby” he says before going down and pushing one of his long meaty fingers into your hole.

You moan and the hand that was holding the back of your head immediately goes and covers your mouth as he shakes his head “Nuh uh baby gotta be quiet can’t have anyone hearing us now can we” he says before plunging another finer inside you. Not moving them just keeping them still inside your soft walls.

He moves his hand from your mouth to hold onto your neck “Please move Katsuki, please need it- need you please” you beg him your voice almost above a whisper. You try and grind your hips against him but he beats you to it slowly moving his fingers in and out of you. He goes faster and faster until you’re biting your lip to keep yourself quiet.

“Woke me up for this huh. Needly little bitch can’t even wait till morning damn extra” He scoffs.

He feels your gummy walls squeeze his fingers tightly at his words. He smirks leaning his face closer to yours to look at your “You like that huh? Like being treating like a little slut, my little slut” he tells you his thumb coming to rub your clit pushing you closer and closer to your release.

Nodding your head you try to speak the feeling in your stomach tightening “Yes m your slut katsuki” you whine you head falling back, as your back arches.

“My whiney girl huh, you gonna cum already. Go on cum for me” Bakugo demands his fingers curling inside of you. He watches as your jaw drops face full of ecstasy.

The band in your stomach snaps as your fish all over his long thick fingers. His fingers don’t stop as you cum, fucking you through your high, thumb stilling rubbing your clit. He slowly down ever so slightly “Good girl, did so good for me” he whispers slowly pulling his fingers out of your hole. His hand comes out of your now soaking pajama bottoms.

He slips his fingers into his mouth sucking your juices off as you watch out of breath. You lick your lips “Your so hot Katsuki thank you” you smile slightly at the boy and you squirm in his lap.

Bakugo smirks “Tch I know dumbass” he says lifting you off his lap and onto the soft sheets of his bed. He walks towards his closets grabbing a pair of his boxers and throws them at you “Change dumbass don’t want you soaking up my bed” he tells you walking back and laying down, getting under the blankets.

“Thanks Kats” you mumbles changing and then climbing over to him.

You lay down on his chests and his arms instinctively wrap around you. He kisses your head one big hand rubbing up and down your bed “Sleep now we have training tomorrow” he demands.

Closing your eyes you nod into his chest place a kiss right where his heart is “Mhm love you Kats” you mumbles drifting to sleep.

“Love you too dummy” he mumbles slowly falling back asleep this time with you in his arms.

SEND SOME MHA OR ANY ANIMIE REQUESTS PLEASE I WOULD LOVE SOME I NEED IDEAS

Lmk if I should make a taglist too comments much appreciated

my hero academia master list

Would anyone read if I started writing for animies like JJK, My hero academia, deathnote, etc

Also send in some requests for ANYTHING I’m back into writing again I was just depressed as fuck

hc that bakugou always thought manifestation was bullshit, until reader (you, i'd assume) told him about law of assumption, he brushed it off as crap, but looked into it, tried it, forgot about it, then wondered why he climbed the hero ranks majorly in 2 months

hiiii just uploaded a new bkg headcanon fic on a whim :)

'we'll be alright'; bakugou x OCD/hypochondriac reader

i've been in an on and off ocd spiral for a while now, and have some weird things happening with my health, that kinda just contribute to each other. wanted to make a fic about it for anyone who may relate <3

'we'll be alright'; bakugou x OCD/hypochondriac reader

A/N: this is quite self-insert because ocd has been kicking my ass the last 4 months 😭 especially when what i'd usually be irrational/obsessive over is actually happening, but i don’t have specifics. but yeah, hope you enjoy :p <33 might make a part 2 of this somehow, or other characters

content tidbits: hypochondriac and OCD reader, GN!reader, talk of obsessions and compulsions, fear of illness (cancer mentioned bc that's one of my fears brought on by my own OCD, as well as random body happenings that could be health related), swearing, anxiety/panic attacks, UA bakugou and reader (what year is up to u), therapy/doctors appointments, platonic relationship, intrusive thoughts, reader isn't initially medicated or getting treatment but does through the fic, essentially hurt/comfort and fluff :) also maybe OOC katsuki. also brief mention of possible OCD katsuki

word count: 1.5k

Briefly proofread

Linked this song because it reminds me of how OCD feels :p

it was known to the people you felt close to that you suffered with anxiety- but to what extent?

yourself and bakugou were at a point of closeness and security within your friendship, to where telling him felt alright.

when bakugou found out you had OCD initially, his first thought was just 'oh, they don’t like mess and are a clean freak', because yknow, stereotypes.

but then you told him what it entailed, he took it in. you talked about your persistent health anxieties and scares, the way they plagued you and tormented you.

"That's fucking dumb, though. Like- you'd know if you were actually sick." He'd say.

"But that's the thing, I don't." You explained. "I don't, regardless of symptoms or not, and that freaks me out. And when I can feel something, the only way I can deal with it is to prod or feel at it."

You explained to him some moments this type of thing happened; in one case, you had odd, painless bumps in random places, and the trigger of its unknown cause sent you spiraling. Petrified it was cancer, you went on an internet deep dive, kept seeking external reassurance, feeling at it 24/7- and rather than this helping, all you felt was fear.

The next was a random pain near your rib. Was it a punctured lung? But then a pain on your head- a tumour?? Then your knees felt different sizes- are your bones shrinking???

He listened, trying to recall times you may have been out of it or panicked for what to him, seemed like for no reason. And it started to click. Realising it extended even further than the health anxieties too. Past traumas, or fears, or habits. It made sense. And it made him feel an ache of sadness for you in his chest. But also pride, for the fact you go through this daily.

In saying that, after you left, he went into full research mode on the types of OCD you had talked about, on how they worked, triggers, compulsions, and how to support you.

He wouldn’t admit it directly, but after hearing how it gets to you, then seeing it in real time, made him feel helpless. Until you got support professionally, he was slightly frantic.

He made a promise to be there for you, any time, if you were having a mini episode, or major. Which he didn’t expect to be..... a lot. But he kept the promise.

1:34am the clock on your phone read. You were tired, sore, stressed. Your hand went to the odd shaping on your back yet again, a nervous shiver going through you. You tried to rationalise. 'It's probably just some muscle. Or some kinda benign growth. Or just my body being weird again.

Or maybe it's a tumour-'

The intrusive thoughts kept scratching inside your brain, urging you to keep poking, shifting, looking for an answer you knew wouldn’t come.

You remembered his words: "If you need me when it happens, fucking come to me. I don’t care when, do it. You shouldn’t be alone with this. And don’t you dare feel bad."

Slipping out of bed, you quietly made your way from your dorm to his, careful to not be disturbing to your classmates.

You go to his dorm, and knocked loud enough.

"Fuck off." You heard from behind the door, the angry voice of Katsuki.

"Katsuki? It’s just me. You don’t have to, but I'm having a hard time with my OCD, and wanted to kno-"

Before you could finish the sentence, the door opened. "Get in." He said softly, looking at you half asleep, yet with concern.

Once in, he closed the door, opened the balcony door to let in a soft breeze, and sat on the bed with you. After a moment, he spoke.

"What's it doing now?"

"My brain won’t stop." You respond, voice tight and exhausted. "I keep finding new bumps, or growths, or whatever the fuck, and even though they don’t hurt or do damage, my brain is still saying cancer. Which is dumb, because I'd know if it was by now-"

"It's not dumb." He interupts. "Ok, yeah, worrying about a worst possibility that you don’t even know whether it's true or not is kinda stupid. But don’t beat yourself up over it. It is scary. Not knowing fucking sucks. But none of this is your fault. Yeah, you'd probably know by now. But you're allowed to just observe it, without making it some kind of evil situation. Give yourself some grace, dimwit. You have every right to be scared. Especially since this matters to you so much. But don’t- don’t let it consume you. You know you're fucking strong. So... know regardless, you can beat whatever is going on. Serious or not."

You looked at him, tears of appreciation, but also overwhelm, pooling in your eyes. He scoffed softly, but not in anger, more so in understanding, and pulled you close, both under the covers, and your face to his chest.

"Just cry it out, idiot. You need to at this point."

So you did. Allowing yourself to feel everything, let everything crash out of you, with him anchoring you. He gently eased and shushed you if you started hyperventilating, the crying turning into a spiral of panic. He whispered soft, encouraging words into the top of your head.

"Its okay. You're gonna be okay, regardless of what happens. This isn’t something you'll do alone. We'll get you the help you need, and I'll be here when you need me to. Things will work out how they're meant to. Just because it's scary doesn’t mean it's impossible."

"I know. I know, i'm just so scared. I hate not knowing. I hate feeling like my mind is working against me, and my body is fucking acting on what I'm scared of-"

"Hey, hey, relax. You’re rambling." He says softly, shifting to wipe your tears. "I know. I hear you. As I said, it's no wonder you're scared. Being afraid of something with mixed signal signs of it sounds like hell. But again, one day at a time. You're asking for help- be proud of that. It's fucking hard to even acknowledge it sometimes. You already took the first step."

"That’s kinda rich from you, considering you bottle everything up." You respond, cracking a slight smile.

He laughed a bit, nodding. "Yeah, I know, I'm emotionally constipated, fuck off with what's obvious. But I mean it. Just because I have trouble doing it, and I ain't the best at comforting, doesn’t mean I won't try and help you. I care about you, fuckwad, even if I don’t say it. I really do."

Once settling down, he got you some water, and turned on his TV for some background noise, of something you both enjoy. You sat, talking, about your compulsions, triggers, fears, trauma, all of it. He listened, gave his input, and got what he needed from you in terms of what you wanted in support from him.

That night, with you against his warm frame, he slept well knowing you were there- regardless of what you had going on, he could be there.

And you slept well knowing he was there- knowing that despite any unknown health factors, legit or not, you'd have him.

From there, you decided to start looking into getting professional help. You went to Aizawa, with Katsuki nearby, to let him know of your situation. You came to an agreement that if you ever weren’t in a fit mental state for training or class, he would give you time to catch up, on the condition you would keep consistent with effort. He then informed the other staff of it, so it would be an all around agreement.

Once that was set, you found a place to go to get the help you needed, or at least a start. You started to gain coping strategies, ways to challenge compulsions or triggers, and more to generally work with until you would get advanced help. As for the physical side of things, appointments were booked, so hopefully that would be a steady process also. He vowed to be there throughout the process of getting any required diagnoses as well.

In the meantime, Katsuki was still there. Through any panic attacks, anxiety episodes, reminding you to do something else when he noticed your compulsions, and occasionally yelling at the rest of Class A if a trigger was mentioned when you were near. Which yes, is extreme, but he meant well.

He helped you identify other compulsions and obsessions outside of the hypochondria, and helped take notes on your physical and mental health for future appointments. He even went to your therapist briefly to ask how to support you, and how to work with you in times you couldn’t carry everything yourself.

No matter how hard it was for either of you to battle against the monsters in your mind, and unknown of your body, he kept his promise. You knew you'd be fine as long as you had him, and everyone else who cared for you, at your side.

If you ever feel alone or unsafe, reaching out to someone who will listen, is the first step. You are more powerful and stronger than you know 🩶

An Enemy Hypnotizes Bakugou and He Hurts You (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Got outta writer’s block with this bad boy. Enjoy!

Word count: 2138

“Katsuki, this isn’t you! Look at what you’re doing!”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Red rage burned in his eyes as he raised his sparking hands, both trained on you. 

Gritting your teeth, you settled back into your own defensive stance. Feet planted on the hard cement, you raised your arms across your chest and braced for impact, eyes glancing back and forth to ensure no more civilians were left on the street. 

The sun shone brightly in the sky, soaking into your skin and creating a halo around Bakugou’s blond head, despite which he still looked like a devil. A leer hung on his face as he circled you, a lion waiting to pounce on his prey. 

Pro Heroes were supposed to be arriving any second; after all, this was just supposed to be a simple academy training mission. You and Bakugou were supposed to survey a local villain terrorizing the streets and observe how a Pro Hero would go about capturing him. 

They should’ve remembered who Bakugou was and realized that he wasn’t the type of person to hold himself back from a fight, however, though distantly you assumed they believed you would be able to hold him back. 

They were dreadfully wrong.

“Katsuki, I don’t wanna hurt you,” you pleaded, softening your stance a bit. 

“Cute that you think I’m the one who’s gonna end up hurt,” he sneered, curling his hands into fists. Sweat dripped down his forehead and arms, further fueling the weapons attached to his arms. 

Panic struck you as you realized he had no control over himself and that no doubt he would use those weapons on you, full force. 

There was only one way to stop him before that happened. 

You would have to attack him first, hard. 

“Just remember, babe,” you shook your head solemnly, “I don’t mean any of this, and I would never hurt you unless I absolutely had to.”

Bakugou cocked a brow and curled his lip, hands sparking now more than ever. 

“Oh, and I also don’t forgive you for eating my muffin this morning.”

A grunt escaped him as he flew through the glass window of the restaurant behind him, crashing and collapsing against a table and chairs. You dropped your leg back to the ground, worry taking over your face as you strained to see his form in the dark restaurant. 

“Katsuki?”

“YN!” All Might’s voice dragged your attention away, leading you to watch as he landed on the street a few yards away. “Are you all right?”

Glancing back into the darkness of the restaurant one last time, you pursed your lips and turned, making your way toward the Pro Hero. “I’m fine, but Katsuki got-”

The wind gets knocked out of you just as you try to take another step, a blast of pure heat slamming into you and knocking you to the ground. 

Head smacking against the concrete, you bite down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. 

“Shit,” you wheeze out as you roll onto your back, blue sky blurring above you. The epicenter of pain is on the left side of your skull and your head pounds with every heartbeat. Whooshes of blood flood your ears and a voice calls your name before everything turns to black. 

“YN. YN. YN!”

A hand pats your cheek gently, urging you to stur. When you continue to refuse, two fingers peel open your eyelid, flooding it with pure light and increasing the headache that had only been steadily pulsing before. 

“Ughhh,” you moan, unable to form words as the same person lifts open your second eye. 

A muffled “pupils are dilating” sounds far off in the distance before you feel your body being lifted up off the hard ground and onto something softer. 

Words like “hospital,” “concussion,” and “serious” filter in and out as you try to open your eyes, even the millimeter you actually obtain being a strain. 

Where is he? You try to form the words but your mouth feels stuffed with cotton and someone shushes you. Even in the blinding brightness, though, you can see him. 

He’s struggling in All Might’s grip, unsuccessfully trying to rip both arms away and barking at every EMT who walks past--who then begins to walk even faster--as his gaze continually glances from them on to you then back. 

Bakugou stops mid-shout and grows still when he finally sees your smallest of movements--the twitch of your fingers, the blink of your eyes, and the mouthing of his name.

Every ounce of fight in his body drains in that instant, and he slumps back against All Might, shoulders and brows drooping as he holds eye contact with you. 

Even in your daze, you wonder why he doesn’t come with, why they won’t let him come with, but that question falls from your mind the instant the ambulance doors are shut and they begin to drive away. 

Two days later, you were released from the hospital. You had a minor concussion and first-degree burns on your left arm, but otherwise you made it out unscathed. 

And during that time Bakugou didn’t contact you once. Not even a lame “Hey, u good?” text. Though technology was forbidden for the first couple days after your concussion, you still snuck out your phone from time to time to call him, text him, anything. He never responded. 

You told him that you were okay, that it was okay. You knew everything that had happened wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t in control of himself. Someone had forced him to hurt you and he’d had no part in it. If he had, he would’ve stopped it, you were sure. 

Nothing. 

All you would get was a little check mark marking each and every one of your messages as “seen.” 

Now that you were coming back to school today, you could finally give him a piece of your mind after that silent treatment. 

First thing you did when you arrived was look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. People flooded you as you entered, asking if you were okay and how many fingers they were holding up. 

You noticed they were asking all but one question: What happened? 

Although you didn’t necessarily want to answer it anyway, this still piqued your curiosity and just as you prepared your own inquiry Aizawa entered and they scurried to their seats. 

Still no Bakugou in sight. 

The most acknowledgement the weary teacher gave you after your absence was a nod and an unceremonious grunt before diving right into the lesson. 

Though your doctors would blame it on your concussion, you found yourself unable to pay attention. It wasn’t even anger towards Bakugou at this point, but genuine panic that he hadn’t shown up yet. You never even thought to wonder what happened after you were knocked out until now. 

Maybe he got hurt too, or was it possible he could still be hypnotized? No, no way. You saw him recognize you post-knockout. So where was he?

The minute class ended you were out the door and running to the dorms. If Bakugou wasn’t there then obviously this situation was more serious than you thought. 

You hit Floor Four and bounded past Kirishima to the absent blond’s room, pounding on the door with all your might. 

“Katsuki? Are you in there?”

His red-headed friend watched as you knocked, flinching each time the door shook hard enough to rattle the entire level. “YN.”

“Katsuki I swear to God if you keep ignoring me-”

“YN.” He tried again, growing anxious. 

“I’m gonna kick your ass so bad you won’t even-”

“YN.” 

“What, Kirishima, what?”

It took a few seconds to register that he hadn’t said your name the third time. Snapping your head to the other side, you faltered at the sight of the blond. 

Hair ratty and tangled, eyes puffy and sunken, cheeks pale and bloodless. If anyone were to guess, they would think Bakugou was the one who took the beating. 

“YN.” He repeated your name like he was pondering over it. 

You heard a door click and turned to see Kirishima gone, disappearing into his room. Glancing around the hallway, you realized it wasn’t exactly the perfect place to have such a serious conversation and gestured for Bakugou to open his door. 

The second it was closed, you turned back to him and threw him a dirty look. “Why didn’t you respond?”

He stayed quiet for a second, looking you up and down, up and down. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping, and you took the time to notice how bloodshot his eyes were. Then, finally, he spoke. “Are you okay?”

Anger swelled at his dismissal of your question, but before you erupted you noticed something. Though Bakugou’s hands twitched at his sides, every time you moved closer toward him he would inch away. 

Taking a deep breath, you moved another step closer, startled when he took one back. 

“Why are you…” you trailed off, struck by his apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asked--no, he insisted. When you responded “yes” he nodded slowly and clenched his jaw, turning away. “That’s good.” Instead of facing you he began to fiddle with his desk chair, rotating it from side to side. 

You step closer, reaching out your hand to touch him and sighing when you see his shoulders tense. It hurt to see him like this, avoiding your every touch like it would give him the plague. “Why?” you whispered sadly.

“I read all your texts, you know.” He turned around and leaned back on his desk, propping himself up on his hands. When his eyes met yours, you saw the crimson was filled with pain. “You said it wasn’t my fault that you got hurt, that it was someone else. Someone else burned you, knocked you out. Someone else hurt you. ” He swallowed roughly. “But that’s a lie.”

“Katsuki, no it’s not-”

“It is, YN!” he snapped, pushing off his hands and pacing “I’m the one who hurt you! I used everything I had against you, to purposefully hurt you.” When he stopped in front of you, his cheeks were puffed and red, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

He was angry now, pissed off but you knew it wasn’t at you. It was at himself for something he couldn’t control. 

You hated it when he was like this. 

Quickly, before he could flinch away you grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him in, close. He wriggled in your grasp, even preparing to wrench your hands off with both of his own on your wrists before you raised a brow. “You really wanna do that?”

Hesitantly he dropped his arms to his sides and gave in to your hold. The muscles in his face relaxed under your touch, and you started to brush your thumbs over his cheeks with a small smile. “Katsuki,” you leaned your face in closer, “the only thing that hurt me during all that time was you ignoring me. Did you know that?”

“YN, I was just trying to-” Before he could finish you yanked his forehead down to press against yours, effectively shutting him up. 

“Did you know that?” you repeated, slower this time. 

He rolled his eyes and pressed harder against your forehead. “No.”

“Look at what I’m trying to tell you, Katsuki. The only time you ever hurt me, the only time you ever caused me pain, was when you ignored me after I was injured.”

“I’m…” ever so slowly he let his hands trail up to your hips, settling there and squeezing for just a second. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. “I’m sorry.”

Your mouth twitched. “Sorry for what?”

“Come on, YN, don’t-”

“Sorry for what?” you laughed, tugging him back in after he tried to pull away. 

Apologies, especially of the genuine kind, were rare for Katsuki. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d even heard those words fall from his lips. 

But here they were, some of the hardest words to ever say, laid out for you and you only. 

Bakugou’s gaze travelled up your face, pausing on your grinning lips before continuing on to a permanent stop on your eyes. His own lips perked for a second. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you after you were hurt.” 

Carefully, like you were a china doll, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. His body was harsh but warm against yours as he leaned his cheek against your hair. 

It was sweet. The sweetest you’d ever gotten out of him, but…

“God, you are one awkward hugger.”

“Don’t test me, YN.”

The Luna Hunt (Alpha Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You don’t need a mate right now; you’ve got more important things, like revenge, on your mind. But the Alpha King needs a mate to take his throne, and now he’s come to town to take you. 

A/N: okay, tell me if I’m wrong but like y’all have read this plot eighty bajillion times on Wattpad before, right? Ehh, I literally thought of it in the shower and it might be some sort of stealing from some unknown author I read back when I was a young, young Oreosmama, but I’m still gonna post it for now bc I like it. I channeled my inner Wattpad writer for this too so I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4244

        Someone should have told the Alpha King that lining up one thousand-something girls shoulder to shoulder in ninety degree weather was a mistake waiting to happen.

        “Achoo!”

        Your sneeze caught the attention--and glares--of the six or so girls lined up on either side of you, each with their own individual reactions. The girl directly to your left, for instance, smiled pityingly and passed you a kleenex from a package sitting in her purse just beside her feet. 

        “I get allergies too,” she shrugged, “always good to keep some handy, don’t you think?” Mustering the most sincere grin you could, you nodded in thanks and accepted the tissue. 

        Sweat dripped down your temple and slid down far enough to disappear under the color of your windbreaker, a piece of clothing that had made you the outcast of the day evidently. 

        You didn’t care. You wore it for a reason. 

        As more pollen tickled your nose, you leaned forward just a bit to see how far away the man traveling down the line was. Good, you thought, I still have enough time. 

        Though he was just a tiny speck from your place somewhere in the middle-end range of the line, you could feel the tension he was inflicting on his audience. 

        The Alpha King. Like all his fathers before him, he was traveling from town to town in search of his predestined mate so he could finally take his place on the throne. He was the ripe age of twenty and, according to all the times you had seen him on the news, he was quite the looker. 

        Though technically illegitimate because his father and mother had produced him before marriage, the Alpha King of this century was especially distinctive for an entirely different reason--he was hot. 

        With blond hair that always seemed to be ruffled and crimson irises that could singe off your eyebrows, Katsuki Bakugou was a young king known to all. Even grandmothers, though they disapproved of his less-than mannerly attitude, still swooned at his natural beauty. 

        Every time you saw him on TV when you were younger, he would always have that permanent scowl etched on his face. And, like most other girls at the time, you wished you could have been the one to turn it upside down. 

        Then you grew up and realized he didn’t really matter. At least not to you. 

        He was just another alpha, albeit the one of the largest pack in the world. Unlike most packs, the Bakugous’ numbers reached into the hundred millions and had towns scattered all over the nation. They were known to be untouchable, and it was an honor to be a part of them. 

        “God, could this go any slower?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise at the groan of the girl next to you. Though she seemed even less interested in the event happening around her with gum smacking and eyes rolling, it seemed her family had at least convinced--or maybe forced--her into a dress that made her blend well with the other girls. 

        Well, at least you weren’t entirely alone in your dreading of this process. 

        The process itself wasn’t particularly a rager but it was a sacred tradition that the Bakugou pack insisted on continuing. This was how the Luna Queen was found, wherever she was. 

        You just wished she’d show up soon so you could get this show on the road. 

        Bakugou Katsuki, however, seemed to be taking his sweet time sniffing down the line of women in the open field of your hometown. Parents and other not-of-age people were forced to stay in their homes so as to not interfere with this careful procedure, and that was the one thing you were thankful for--the one thing you were looking forward to. 

        Now, you just had to wait for the bodyguard of your particular clump of women to step away so the king could smell each of you individually. Mates’ scents are supposed to stand out in crowds of millions, but after one particular sick incident so many centuries ago where a certain Alpha King ended up with a stuffy nose, they decided to leave the kings unescorted as they walked along the line. 

        And so here you were, waiting ever so patiently for Mr. Rhinoceros-neck to step back and away to join the rest of his fellow betas as they guarded the king from a calculated distance of seventy feet. 

        But, of course, Bakugou Katsuki was taking his sweet time. 

        Part of you almost pitied the girls beside you, obviously making the mistake of not wearing sunscreen. You memorized the day's exact weather report and were determined to not let even a sunburn stop you from your mission. 

        Though, maybe a reapplication wouldn’t hurt since you seemed to be sweating off your first layer of SPF 60. Perhaps the windbreaker you zipped over a thick black sweatshirt was a bit of overkill but it was all part of your plot. 

        Heat strokes be damned--you were not screwing up today. 

        Twenty minutes crawled by at a snail’s pace and in that time, the scent of deodorant and perfume reached its crescendo. Girls in skin-tight, above-the-knee dresses reapplied just a touch of antiperspirant with ease as the Alpha King made his way closer and closer to your gaggle of a hundred or so women. The other girls who had gone with more modest skirts and dressy blouses, however, had a bit more trouble tackling the B.O. issue. 

        The sun reached its peak in the sky and you checked your phone to make sure you hadn’t counted wrong. 

        Nope, no mistakes here. Four hours you’d been standing in that line with Miss Smacks-her-gum on your right and Lady Kleenex on your left. Smacks-her-gum had made the mistake of not wearing sweatproof mascara but you weren’t going to tell her that anytime soon. Trapped in a black leather jacket over a poofy black skirt that tickled your own legs beneath their leggings, she looked about two seconds from blowing her top or passing out--you hoped you weren’t going to be around to see either. 

        “Ooh, he’s getting closer,” Kleenex squeaked out, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger out of habit. “Damn, he’s so cute.” She glanced back at you with a nervous smile. “I really do wish I was his mate but, God, what are the odds, right?”

        “Yeah,” you breathed out with a friendly smile, waiting until she returned her attention to the direction of the Alpha King, for she would be the first one he sniffed of your little trio, before dropping the smile entirely, “what are the odds.”

        Now!

        Rhinoceros-neck glanced up and down your row one more time from thirty feet away to make sure no one had left before leaving his post, a sure sign that the group of bodyguard betas wasn’t too far behind. 

        If even one of them saw you, the plan would be ruined. You had to make this quick. 

        Unzipping your windbreaker, you shrugged it off your shoulders and pulled it free of you entirely, feeling for the binder clips in the front pocket as you did so. Then you zipped it back up and shoved a scrunched wrist under each clip. 

        “What are you doing?” The girl in the leather jacket seemed less pissed off than you expected, that was until you tried to attach the binder clip to her jacket-shoulder.

        “Don’t mind me, I just can’t stick around long,” you mumbled, too busy to expand on just how dumb your plan was with attaching the other clip to Kleenex girl’s shoulder cutouts of her blouse. 

        Yes, perhaps it was all based on the slim-to-none chance you had of lucking out so stupidly that an entire group of betas and an Alpha King literally overlooked your existence, but it was your only chance of escaping scot free. All you needed was for it to look like a person was there.

        You’d done your research, and you’d done it well. You knew Bakugou Katsuki was a pissy man, but you also knew he never made eye contact with women while he went down his lines. Part of it was out of respect as due the tradition’s requirements, but part of it was to make the entire process faster. Women were beautiful all over, but finding your true mate depended on all of your senses, not just one. 

        If his peripheral vision was as useless as you hoped, you could make a clear getaway and go on your true mission. As fun as it was to participate in the Alpha King’s police lineup of one-thousand women for four hours, you had other things to do with your life.

        Like finding that deadbeat father of yours. 

        You stepped back and inspected your windbreaker, fluffing it out here and there while the two girls it was attached to tried to crane their necks back far enough to ask you what the hell was happening. 

        You didn’t respond to their questions, instead kicking off the flats you’d allowed your mom to shove on your feet and placing them in the exact place they’d been for the last two hours, easily found due to the matted down grass. Attached to the backpack you’d brought that sat behind you like all other girls had done with their purses and such were a pair of combat boots, the laces strung around the straps of the black bag. 

        All dark colors, all practically invisible in the forest you planned on escaping through. 

        Past your group of one hundred girls was another group of the same number before all the women of the town finally ran out and the edge of the farm’s field met a forest. The owner of the wheat field that had been so viciously attacking your nose for the better part of your morning had been paid handsomely for his participation in this town and century’s search of the Luna Queen, just as his ancestors had been. 

        The forest was thick and ran for miles far and wide, while on the complete other side of the field sat the rest of the town waiting for the Alpha King’s verdict. 

        Queen or no Queen? they all wondered.

        Shit, did I grab that extra protein bar? you wondered.

        The grass was wonderfully cool on your sock-covered feet as you untied your boots, glancing up once or twice and going on your tiptoes to see how fast the Alpha King was moving at this point. Surely he was growing tired of this just as you wished he’d take even more time. 

        A blond head bobbed past fifty or so girls down, proving yourself correct. He was going faster. 

        “Shit,” you hissed, kneeling down to lace up the boots, only to catch a faceful of dirt courtesy of Leather Girl’s gothic boots. 

        “What the hell are you doing down there?” she spat, Kleenex girl nodding with the same curiosity. 

        “I’m gonna go for a stroll.” You returned your gaze to the boots, lacing the last one up faster before a blond or a boot could stop you.

        “What about the king?”

        “What about him?” You rose to your feet and swung the backpack’s straps over your shoulders, tightening them for a mad dash you prayed wouldn’t have to happen. 

        “Why are you just up and leaving now? You could be caught and get in serious trouble,” Kleenex piped up innocently. Her eyes were glimmering with concern, an emotion you knew was much undeserved for someone like yourself about to do something so stupid. 

        “No I won’t,” you shook your head and gestured to the jacket clipped between the two girls. You adjusted the clips so the windbreaker didn’t slump as much, but it was almost an impossible task due to the eight-inch difference between the two of them. “If you guys keep that up, we’ll all survive this. Just play it cool.”

        Both pairs of eyes on you bulged as you traveled toward the woods instead of the town where they thought you were leaving to. The girl in the leather jacket caught your hand in the nick of time, tugging you back hard enough that you were face to face with both girls. The movement behind their backs distracted other girls in line whose attention you really didn’t need at this point so you yanked your hand away with a glare. 

        A flare of guilt lit up your stomach at the worry in both girls’ gazes, but you couldn’t stop the question escaping your lips. “What do you want?”

        “What if they catch you?”

        “They won’t.”

        Leather Jacket gave you a deadpan look. “What if they notice you’re gone?”

        “I’ll be gone by then, hopefully,” you stared down at the hand still reaching for your wrist for emphasis. 

        “Well, what about your family?”

        The question made you tense and your eyes flashed. “They’ll be fine,” you gritted out. You were doing this for them after all, and all of it was explained in the neatly folded letter still in the pocket of your windbreaker. 

        They would understand. They’d have to.

        “Fine then,” Leather Jacket shrugged, forcing a strand of black hair back behind her ear. “Just be safe.”

        Finally, something you wanted--yet didn’t exactly expect, especially from her--to hear. 

        Kleenex nodded in agreement and you smiled. 

        “Thanks.” 

        And then you left, crouching down and slipping behind the backs of a hundred girls you’d gone to school with for twelve years. 

                                ~~~

        Katsuki kept his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the grass below his shoes as he made his way down the third line that week. Hundredth line that month, with many more to come. 

        Kirishima and Kaminari snickered in the group behind him as he tripped on a sudden hole in the dirt, causing him to cuss and throw a glare back at them. “Zip it, you two.”

        Both men straightened up and saluted him with pursed lips. “Yes sir.”

        And then they broke off into laughter once more.

        Katsuki’s lip curled back and he refrained from growling, knowing that he could scare any of the girls to his left and then he’d get an earful from his parents. 

        Hands shoved into his pockets, he strutted past each and every girl without even catching a whiff of something he even minded at that point. Instead, it was all the same. Flowery scents here and tropically scents there made his mind reel with a full-fledged headache. This town was bigger than the ones he was used to visiting, but a town was more preferable than a city any day--the populations were always too high for him to ever escape a scenting line in a short six hours. 

        Plus, quaint towns like this had his most favored landscape: small shops and cottages behind him with a wide forest surrounding, too thick to even see the sunrise and yet so clear that you could count the stars. 

        Not that he’d ever tell anyone he liked that. 

        Although, deep down he thought that if he ever did find his mate, a town like this was where he’d like to settle down after running the pack for long enough. Letting his wolf free in miles and miles of forest was a dream, and reminded him of his pack’s headquarters thousands of miles away from here. 

        At least I can see the end of the line now, he thought, reaching up a single hand to massage the back of his neck. 

        He estimated he’d be done in this town in another ten minutes. Then maybe he could convince his father’s Beta to let him roam through the forest for even just an hour before moving on. 

        Just a little faster now. 

        Of all the parts of scenting lines, his favorite part was definitely finishing them. 

        So close… so close. 

        Now, he could see the last girl--and the anxious smile on her face. Dear God, that poor thing thought she was the one. She definitely wasn’t the first, and he had to thank that no girl had jumped like the ones in the previous towns had. 

        All towns and cities had their weirdos, but Katsuki was especially pleased to find out that this town was astoundingly normal. 

        Well, maybe except for that one girl that was very obviously trying to make a break for it to the forest. 

        Well that’s a new one. Maybe he-

        Mate.

        The sweet scent of sugared pine and apple trees wafted into his nose, mixing with a slight pinch of spiced cinnamon. His eyes almost rolled back into his head and yet he couldn’t take them off the form sprinting behind the other girls. 

        Gasps filled his ears as Katsuki’s body stood at attention. But if that girl was his mate then how could he smell her…?

        One look to his left and he saw a single maroon windbreaker, attached via what looked like binder clips to the clothing of the two women on either side of an empty space. Even a pair of shoes sat on the floor where his mate had stood, and wind forced the jacket to flutter in midair. 

        She ran away.

        Something in Katsuki’s chest sank as he growled in frustration, ripping the windbreaker away from between the two girls and ignoring how they flinched before he pressed it to his nose, inhaling as much of the scent as he could.

        Intoxicating.

        He could feel his mind sharpen as he stepped away from the group of girls, turning his head once more to search for his mate. 

        A black form disappeared behind a collection of trees hundreds of feet away but he heard the crack of her stepping on a twig as clear as day. 

        “Kirishima,” he barked and the redhead appeared at his side. “Take these two into custody. They might know something.”

        “Bakugou, did you find her?”

        He kept his gaze locked on the trees.

        “Yes, but take the other men with you. I want to find her alone.”

        “But what if-”

        “No,” he spat, blazing eyes almost setting Kirishima aflame, “I’m doing it alone. If even one of you gets near her or gets in my way, he’s not making it out of the forest alive.”

        Kirishima nodded in understanding and whistled to the others, grabbing both girls as they whimpered in fear while waiting for better restraints. 

        Katsuki still kept his eyes locked on the forest edge, just where his mate had disappeared. It was only then that he noticed his hands were wringing the jacket of life, twisting it until it appeared to be tight as a spring waiting to uncoil. 

        Pressing his lips firm against one another, he unraveled the jacket, searching for something, anything that might give him a clue as to who you were and why you did what you did. 

        At last, he found a letter in the front right pocket, addressed to your own mother. 

Dear Mom,

I’m going after him. I can’t let what he did to you slide, even if you say it was for the best.

With love,

YN

        YN. At least now he had a name. 

        And it was perfect. 

        YN, your mate was going to find you whether you wanted him to or not. 

        And he wasn’t going to let you go.

                                ~~~

        There was no way you had escaped as smoothly as you thought you did. Even though you felt like every breath you took sounded like a trumpet announcing your location, you never stopped running, staying crouched beneath the groups of women who didn’t even bother to turn back and watch the show. 

        It wasn’t too graceful either. Your thighs were on fire due to, you know, you having never done this before. After a solid two minutes, you felt your calves spasm and you almost gave up there, but the forest’s edge was so close… so close. 

        When the floor finally transitioned from grass to grass mixed with soil and animal feces, you almost jumped for joy, sprinting so hard that your legs almost gave out when you passed a hefty group of trees that you felt wide enough to hide you. 

        Your ears perked at a series of gasps that rang in the clearing behind you and it was then that you knew your escape was far from over. 

        Maybe there actually was a law against escaping the Searching for Luna Queens ceremony--you’d googled it thoroughly just to make sure you weren’t officially a criminal on the run until after you located your father. But hey, maybe Google had lied to you.

        Then you were screwed. 

        Your mother and stepfather, you could deal with.

        The entirety of the Alpha King’s pack… hmm, not so much. 

        So you kept running, wincing every once in a while that you stepped over a cracked twig. Sweat stuck your hair to your skin and slickened your legs entirely, the midday heat combined with a run through the humid forest finally catching up to you. 

        A small rest wouldn’t hurt. Maybe twenty minutes had passed, thirty if you were really lucky. You settled for a small stump in somewhat of a clearing. Here, at least, the branches of the trees were only swinging so low that they just brushed the top of your head, as opposed to when they thwapped you in the face while you ran.

        Zipping open your backpack, you grabbed the first water bottle you saw, not even bothering to search for the cap after you tore it off and tossed it away before gulping down three-quarters of the bottle. 

        Your heart finally seemed to slow as you took in gasps of air, batting away and choking on the occasional gnat. Your hair felt greasy and sweaty while the rest of your body was just entirely moist--you’d never been so disgusting before. 

        But you’d also never run away from a group of thirteen grown men before so you chalked it up to it being amateur hour. 

        From your seat on the stump, you honed in on your surroundings, trying to figure out which direction to go from there. 

        Birds chirped to your left (possibly South), but you heard the small babblings of a creek to your right (also possibly South). There was nothing coming from in front of you but flies buzzing and the occasional deer scraping its antlers against a tree, and meanwhile behind you there was a-

        SHIT!

        You jumped out of your seat on the stump but it was already too late. Just as you lunged ten feet out a weight tackled you from behind and forced you onto the ground, their heavier weight and superior strength keeping you immobile. 

        Shoulda known it was illegal.

        But only then after your heart stopped trying to rip itself away from your body did you feel it. Sparks. Little zaps of pure pleasure tracing up and down your spine and forcing an involuntary shiver out of you. 

        And the smell, oh God the smell. Like your favorite fruits sprinkled with just a touch of vanilla that had you biting back a moan. 

        Mate.

        Parts of you were happy and others were sad. Happy you found your mate, but sad he had almost just tackled you and forced your face into a pile of bear dung. 

        This was not a great first meeting. 

        “Are you gonna get off me anytime soon?” you wheezed out, spitting out spare bits of dirt that had flown into your mouth mid-tackle.

        Thank God you packed a toothbrush. 

        “Only if you promise not to run.” Jesus fuck this man needed to chill with his voice. It washed over you and warmed up the pit of your stomach like no other, every husk and lilt of his words making you almost quiver in delight. 

        “Yep,” you coughed out, voice surprisingly steady for someone being suffocated mentally and physically, “pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson. You’re good.”

        After a slow, somewhat trembling exhale, the man finally got off you and rose to his feet, instead choosing to drop into a squat beside your head with both arms relaxing on his knees. 

        Very strong, muscular looking arms on very strong, muscular looking knees. And things. And chest. And everything. 

        Dear God, maybe you actually hit the jackpot for once. 

        A large hand reached towards your face, not particularly gentle as he brushed the hair from your face, though you could tell he was trying by his hesitancy. His hand paused right as it reached your hair and after a deep breath, he pushed it back up behind your ear and you could see the rest of him at last. 

        Oh holy shit. 

        “Ba-akugou Katsuki.” 

        “YN.”

        The Alpha King was your mate.

After the Breakup (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Welp, I was going to write for more people but when I started for these two babes-for-characters I guess I just couldn’t stop🤷‍♀️. Not quite sure how these headcanons turned out but hey, hope you like ‘em! (Btw they get a lil saucy, but I’m just in that mood so y’all are just gonna have to accept them for what they are🤷‍♀️)

Word count: 2120

Bakugou Katsuki: 

Wants to ignore you 

Definitely the type to fold his arms and turn away when you enter a room or scoff when you talk to another guy

But when you walk away the guy is being given a glare that could put him six feet under

Acts cold to you--not exactly like how he did before he was interested in you, like how he calls everyone “extras,” but more so like he just sneers at you for no reason and rolls his eyes everytime you speak

Lil pomeranian boi just misses you really badly

But he hates the idea that you have that much power over him that you could draw him back to your side in a matter of seconds. It frustrates him how much he wants you back

At one point he’s tired of having nightmares of you leaving night after night--especially now that he doesn’t have you to comfort him after waking up in a cold sweat. 

So he’ll climb out of bed and stomp over to your door

And proceed to stare at it for about twenty minutes with his mind and heart running marathons

What does he say?

What does he do?

Would you be mad? Sad? Disappointed?

Or… would you even care that he was still in love with you?

It all becomes too much, and soon enough he just has to know

So he raises a fist to pound on your door loud enough to wake the entire floor

And the door opens before he even makes contact. 

“Katsuki?”

“YN.” Surprisingly, Bakugou feels all too calm at this moment, like he knows exactly what to say. 

“What are you doing here?”

A muscle in Bakugou’s chin twitches as he struggles to find the exact words. He wanted to make his point but he also didn’t want you to slam the door in his face. “I… Look. You told me that we should both move on and that I should get over you.”

“Katsuki-”

“But here’s the thing, YN,” when he takes a step forward, you take a step back and he physically flinches at the movement, “I don’t want to.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to get over us and move on to other people. I don’t want to see you with other guys when I know I could make you happier. That I have made you happier.”

“Katsuki,” your face softens, “you don’t have to-”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do, YN. I’m not letting you go, understood? Try to move on all you want, I’m not going to let you. I’ll scare off any man you even talk to if I have to-”

Two hands piled over his mouth shut him up instantly and you lean past Bakugou to glance both ways down the hall before yanking him inside your room. 

As soon as the door’s shut, you turn to him and shake your head with the smallest little smile. 

“Katsuki, you dumbass. I was just going to leave my room to give you the same lecture.”

“Huh?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” you cup his cheek, reveling in the foreign look of shock on the blond’s face, “so no need for anymore threats on guys I may or may not go out with… unless you’re really willing to go after yourself that badly.”

Relief floods through Bakugou’s body, warming him up with the thoughts that he didn’t need to worry about truly losing you at all--as it turns out, you agreed you were his just as much as he did. 

“So… we’re back together?”

“Yep, unless…”

Oh shit

“Unless what?” Bakugou froze under your touch and reached a hand up to secure your palm against his cheek. “What is it?”

It almost pissed him off that you were able to laugh so freely while he was in an obvious state of panic. 

“Well, I was gonna suggest break-up sex but judging by just how badly you want to get back together, it seems like that’s off the table.”

Oh. Oh you damned little thing. 

Such a fucking tease. 

“Nah,” Bakugou shook his head and before you knew it, you were being forced down onto your bed, wrists locked tightly above you. “You’ve got the right idea. Break-up sex tonight, and tomorrow we can make up all day long.”

Kirishima Eijirou: 

On the surface, Kirishima is the same old manly man everyone knows him to be

But his eyes no longer have that same glint

And that smile just always seems seconds away from faltering

His red hair seems less spiky than usual, and those bags under his eyes are just the biggest tell

Kirishima is broken. 

He’s not grinning and holding your hand as he walks into class anymore, escorting you to your seat with a perhaps almost overdone kiss. Instead, he almost slumps to his own seat, avoiding eye contact with as many people as possible. 

But the instant you step into the classroom, you feel it.

You sit in the front row, giving him plenty of freedom to watch you for the entire day.

Kirishima thinks it’s natural, it’s harmless. He’s just trying to get over an ex--everyone knows how hard that is.

But he’s just making things worse. He tortures himself by constantly standing to attention anytime you speak. Or anytime your name is mentioned. Or anytime someone who remotely looks like you walks by him. 

No, he’s not doing great at this “moving on” thing, and he knows that. 

But part of it’s because he just can’t believe that you’re not struggling to do it either. 

Kirishima knows none of those kisses and “I love yous” were lies. He knows you meant every single hug and smile you ever gave him. Every time you said you cared about him, he could see in your eyes that you meant it wholeheartedly.

So maybe you could see how he wondered why loving you was suddenly so painful. 

Because now you were broken up and all this love he had to give you had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. It was like the love he had for you was useless. 

Kirishima hated those words, that thought. That being in love with you for all those months was useless, and that it just needed to be flushed away. 

All those plans he had of being with you, becoming superheroes at one another’s side and raising a family together. Planning ahead so far to even name the bridesmaids and groomsmen of your wedding and the names of your children. 

The future house and the rooms of that house, how many there would be and what kinds they were. You needed a library, one he was all too ready to build for you and he wanted a mancave you would surely supply with snacks.

All of that was useless. 

But Kirishima didn’t want to think so. So he came up with a plan. 

And when you walked into class the next day, Kirishima sat in your assigned seat, and you knew you smelled mischief. 

“Eijirou… whatcha doin’?”

When Kirishima raised his eyes to yours, the corner of his mouth turned up just an inch. 

“Sitting.”

You purse your lips. “I see that. But you know you could do the same exact thing in your own seat, right?”

The conversation wasn’t exactly a spectacle--the only other people in the room were in the back of the class talking amongst themselves distractedly. No one would bother to interfere. 

“Well, YN,” Kirishima leaned back, “I kinda want to trade places for a day. I wanna sit in your seat and act all nonchalant, pretending like I actually wanted us to break up-”

You could hear his voice growing choked up and moved to stop him. “Eijirou-”

“-and you can sit in my seat and do as I do. Remember how happy we were and how much you said you loved me. And how I broke up with you anyway.”

It was cold, like the room had suddenly dropped a few degrees. The boy everyone thought didn’t have a single mean bone in his body seemed to flip a switch in himself, turning emotionless in the blink of an eye. 

For him to act like you never loved him almost hurt as much as when you broke up with him. In all honesty, you thought it was for the best at the time. You felt it would help both of you focus on your studies so that you could become better heroes than anything. 

You thought that’s what Kirishima wanted, and that you were doing what was best for him. But you were wrong.

It seemed all he really wanted was you--being a hero had moved to second. 

“Eijirou…”

So the question was did you want him just as badly?

“YN…”

Becoming a hero was the entire reason you came to this school, and was also the reason you broke off one of the best relationships you’d ever had. You’d thought you were making things better. 

But had it really helped anything?

“Eijirou, I…”

Your grades had actually dropped. Terribly. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually got quality sleep. 

And judging by Kirishima’s dark circles, he was suffering the same side effects. 

These weren’t the symptoms of withdrawal--they were just the signs of a mistake. 

So as you looked into Kirishima’s eyes, hard enough to see past all the barriers he had put up, you could see the same questions you kept asking yourself. 

Why did I ever think this was worth it? Why did I ever think this would help me be happy?

The answer was it didn’t. 

And trial and error was a pain in the ass. 

“Eijirou, I’m sorry.” Your brows drew together in regret as you lowered your gaze, reaching over to grab the hand Kirishima had tensed on the desktop. “Maybe… no. Breaking up was definitely a mistake, and I wasn’t even thinking of the shit I was going to put both of us through by doing that. I’m sorry.”

But just as his mouth opened to respond, the bell rang and twenty other students flooded in in a mad dash to get to their seats. 

Before you moved to claim Kirishima’s seat as your own, you made a split second decision that you hoped could display even a little of what you were thinking. 

Kirishima froze at the kiss, his eyes going wide as you tilted his chin up to give yourself access. His lips were soft, just as you’d dreamt about for the last five nights, and tasted like that damned chapstick he always wore. 

And when you pulled away, he tried to reach out to stop you but you stepped away from his desperate hands, instead navigating your way back to his desk. 

Kirishima was frantic, spinning in your seat to get a look at your blushing face while his own mouth stayed open enough to catch a couple flies. The second your lips quirked up into a smirk, he almost jerked back with whiplash. 

Fucking hell, she did not just-

“Okay class,” Aizawa slumped into the classroom with his usual cheerfulness. “I want you to take a look at-wait.” The teacher paused for just a second to take note of Kirishima’s back facing him and you just five seats away whistling and observing the ceiling with interest. 

“YLN, Kirishima, get back to your original seats for God’s sake. There’s no time for this.”

All too ready, Kirishima rose from your chair and made his way towards you with eyes unsteady and hungry. 

Tonight you would explain just what exactly you were thinking when you decided to break up with Kirishima out of the blue. I mean, you seriously almost gave him a heart attack. 

Directly after school though…

Kirishima caught your arm as you moved to walk past him and threw you a look that would stick in your mind for the rest of class. Just as fast, he released you completely and dropped into his seat, eyes locked on your every move as you slid into your own.

Oh yeah. Directly after school, he was going to make you pay for the pain you put his mind through with your body.

You Come Home Injured (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Another yandere post?? Hell yeah. Don’t know why, just been in the mood for some obsessive boys🤷‍♀️ Hope you like it!

BNHA Tag List (bc that’s a thing now whoop whoop🥳): @your-filled-with-determination​

Word count: 1544

Bakugou Katsuki:

Blood poured from your lip and dribbled down your chin. Your jaw ached and your ribs whined with each of your movements as you pushed open the front door, almost collapsing just as you made it inside. 

“YN?” Bakugou’s angered voice thundered from the kitchen. “Where the hell have you been?”

Even speaking was too much effort as your mind fogged, forcing you to slump into the nearest chair. The sofa felt so… so soft. 

Maybe a small nap wouldn’t hurt. 

“YN?” Loud thumps came closer and closer before a blurred form stood in the entryway of the living room. “YN!”

“Katsuki…” You struggled to keep conscious, head lolling to the side every few seconds as Bakugou’s eyes widened. 

Your state was horrific. Body littered in bruises, he couldn’t tell exactly what blood spatters came from where. You looked like you were dead on your feet. “No, no, no! Who did this?”

His teeth grinded as he struggled to caress your cheek as tenderly as possible. Hot, fiery rage lit up the pit of his stomach, almost travelling to his hands before he stopped himself from exploding just next to your face. 

“I’m…” you could barely keep your eyes open, “...so tired. I wanna take a nap.”

“No, YN, stay with me! You’re gonna be fine!” Crimson eyes were aflame with a worry you’d never seen before mixed in with the normal fury you were used to. “I’ll kill whoever did this to you! I swear!”

Bakugou could only watch as you finally gave into exhaustion, head dropping back onto the top of the sofa before your body relaxed completely. 

Angry. Angry at you for getting into this mess. Angry at the man who thought he could live after doing such a thing. And angry at himself for never trusting his gut and locking you away for good. 

Pressing a shaky kiss to your cheek, Bakugou rose from his crouch at your side and glanced toward the door. He knew what he had to do. 

The next day, you were in the hospital being treated for your wounds. Of course, they asked what happened and who did this to you, even daring to flash Bakugou a suspicious look as he stood at your side with a glare. 

There was no point in looking for the man who hurt you. He was gone. His body--or, rather what remained--was littered around the nearby forest, already being feasted upon by local wildlife. The charred bits of his existence served as a reminder that Bakugou never turned down a fight when it came to you. 

Because no one touched you and got away with it. No one.

Todoroki Shouto:

He can only watch, shell-shocked, as you stumbled into the house, leg limping and cheek a dark purple. 

“YN.” In an instant, he’s on his feet, right hand stretching out to soothe your bruise. A sigh leaves you at the feeling of cold on your burning cheek, leaning more into your boyfriend’s hold as he directs you to the couch. 

After five minutes of him checking every inch of your body for more damage, he finally leaves and returns with a cup of steaming something. 

“Drink this,” he mumbles, concerned eyes watching your every move as you gulp down the tea. 

When you set down the mug, he returns his hand to your face, running his fingers over the marking that has finally stopped swelling. 

Todoroki struggles to meet your gaze as he runs his other hand along your thigh down to your wounded knee. “Who… who did this to you?”

“It’s just part of the job, Shouto-”

“No,” he grits out, setting both hands on your cheeks to keep you facing him. “Who did this to you? Where is he?”

“The cops already arrested him, Shouto.” You reach a hand up to grasp his wrist, running a thumb along the skin. A smile works its way onto your face. “Trust me, I gave more than I got.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw before he finally nods, pulling away and standing up. “Okay. Fine. I’ll let it go. But please be more careful next time.”

Tension leaves your body at his willingness to give in and the grin on your face grows. “I will. Now what’s for dinner?”

That night, Todoroki lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, too uneasy to sleep even with you curled into his side. The cops have him. He’s detained.

But he hurt her.

Somebody hurt the love of his life and got away with it. Not for long. 

Ever so slowly, he slipped away from your hold and left his pillow in his place, stopping in his tracks just for a second to watch as you hugged the pillow tighter to your chest. 

Somebody hurt you, YN. Surely you know I can’t let him get away with that. 

Getting into the precinct was easy, but it was even easier to bribe the cops to let him see the arrests of the night. Specifically ones with bruised fists. 

“Sir, we can’t just let you-” Todoroki flashed his gaze to the fumbling cop. 

“How much?”

“W-what?”

“Give this guy to me,” he nodded toward the criminal cowering in the corner of the cell, “and you could be set for life.”

“Sir…”

The deal was made and the cop turned a blind eye as Todoroki walked out with a more-than reluctant criminal in his grasp. 

“Please, I’m sorry! I screwed up! Just take me back! Please!”

The whining never bothered Todoroki; instead, he was annoyed at just how loud it got as soon as his punishment was dealt. 

It became a question of whether the man died of burns or frostbite--either way, Todoroki knew the man was feast for the fishes as he dropped the charred remains off the bridge and into the river below. 

When he finally returned home, you didn’t even stir once as he showered off the scumbag’s touch and returned to his place in your arms with dripping hair. 

“Shouto…?”

“Shh, go back to sleep, YN.” And you did, ever so safe with Todoroki at your side. 

Because with him, nobody would dare to hurt you again. 

Kirishima Eijiro:

The second you walk through the door, Kirishima’s at your side, ushering you into the bathroom. With a washcloth, he wipes the dirt from your face and neck, stopping every few seconds to stare at the finger-shaped bruises on the skin. 

You knew it the instant you looked into his eyes. “Eijiro… don’t. You know it wasn’t your fault.” 

Guilt covered his face like a veil, draping over his entire body until it appeared as though he had let the world down in some way. 

“I should have been there, YN.” His teeth grit in frustration and his hands ball up into fists. “I should have kept you safe.”

“You can’t be there every second of every day, Eijiro.” You place a hand over his and caress the skin. “I don’t blame you for this. It wasn’t your fault.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong, YN. I should have been there. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe.”

Your heart warmed at his declaration. He was always so kind, but sometimes it was a pain that he would take on so much in your stead. 

“I could have protected you…”

No words you could say could bring him out of this now. All you could do was stay by his side to ensure that you were still alive and safe until he got over his guilt. 

“Let’s go.” You stood with a small smile, offering a hand to him.

Hesitantly, he accepted the offer and rose to his feet, confusion taking over his features.

“What are we doing?”

“Let’s spend the day together, inside. Just the two of us. No distractions. No outside world. Just me and you.”

The thought lit up his face in an instant and before you knew it, you were being lifted into his arms and hauled out to the kitchen. “All right, but only if you let me do all the work. You just sit and rest.”

That night, Kirishima stroked the skin of your cheek, grinning as you slept so peacefully in his arms. You were safe. You were okay. You were with him. 

He wanted you like this forever. 

Forever. That could work. The window just behind your back would need to be locked and blacked out so nobody could see you inside. The doors would need to be chained and bolted with keys only Kirishima had so he could make sure you were in his presence. No leaving without him. No going out without him at your side. Nothing.

You would be safe and in his arms forever. How… perfect.

Kirishima hummed blissfully at the thought. If today said anything about how you felt, then surely you would agree to this too. 

With this plan, you and Kirishima could be by one another’s sides forever, safe and in love. 

Just perfect.

bakugou reacting to his crush having those thirst tiktok (the ones where they just lip sync to a song and loon pretty HAHAHAH)

Bakugou’s Crush with a Thirst Trap TikTok (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Ok, so I know you wanted this to be a lil thirsty, but you’re gonna have to bear with me when I say that this is a lot more thirsty than imagined. Honestly, I’ve been in a mood lately where 24/7 I’m like 🥵, so you just gotta take this and run, especially considering how late it is. Nonetheless, hope you like it! (Side note: asdfskdj thanks for 1.2k followers already! Y’all, I swear I’m boutta cry with this🥺)

Word count: 1653

B r u h

It’s like you’re trying to have this boy explode when you make this video.

Maybe you are.😏

Anyways, although Bakugou has a huge spankin’ crush on you, he doesn’t stalk you on your social media accounts. 

Nope, instead he sees your little video in school. 

“Bakugou! Bakugou!” He had just stepped into the classroom and already Kaminari was jabbering at him. 

What a pain in the ass.

The rest of the Bakusquad is hovering around his desk and has their eyes locked on his phone in his grip. “You gotta come see this!” the blond grins. 

“No, I don’t.”

Kaminari rolls his eyes and rises from his seat, shoving his phone into Bakugou’s hand and clicking on a video. “Uh yeah, you do.” 

Albeit reluctantly, he watches the video and-- oh.

Oh fuck.

It’s a TikTok of yours, but so much naughtier than what he’s seen. The first thing his eyes land on are your hips, moving in a tantalizing pattern and twisting them so slowly. Then they trail up your body, barely clothed in only a lace bra that outlines everything you had to offer and more. They move on towards your slim neck and up to your face, where your lips look plump, the bottom trapped between your teeth. That pink tongue of yours peeks out and swipes along the gloss covered lip you chew on so seductively, his gaze following the wet muscle with conviction.

Then his gaze lands on something that has him squirming in his seat-- your bedroom eyes. Heavy-lidded and already looking fucked into a daze, you smirk at the camera and lip sync to the particularly dirty song. Bakugou gulps at the sight. 

His pants are suddenly too tight, an excited part of himself straining against the fabric. 

He doesn’t even have the capacity to be pissed off that you made the video for any pair of eyes to see; right now, he’s rather stuck on how to hide the tent in his jeans that will no doubt rage till the end of class. 

“You’re such a goddamn perv,” Bakugou spits, thrusting the phone back into Kaminari’s hand. God, the only thing that could make this worse for him is if you were to-- oh heeeey, look who just joined the party.

Your entrance is instantly greeted with catcalls and wolf whistles, each one making Bakugou grit his teeth harder and harder together. 

“WOOHOO, YN,” Kaminari pipes up from beside him, “nice video.” 

In traditional YN fashion, Bakugou expects you to lob your backpack right into his smug face, but instead, you shock him by letting out a snicker. 

“Just for you, my friend,” you snigger, flipping him off with both hands. 

What the hell does that mean?

All through class, Bakugou is forced to sit at his desk with his backpack over his lap, but he can’t help letting his gaze draw to you from time to time. He had only been caught a handful of times, but each time you only glanced away just as quick. 

“Just for you, my friend.”

“Just for you.”

“Just for you.”

The words echo in Bakugou’s mind, making his fists curl and curl until his fingernails almost draw blood in his palms. He’s put out of his misery when the bell rings, and he blasts out of class sooner than Aizawa can dismiss him. 

In his dorm, he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. The way you moved, the way you looked, that glint in your eyes. But was it all for Kaminari?

The thought makes his hands tingle with sparks, but deep down, his stomach churns nastily. Was that perv the guy you were thinking of when you made that?

What kind of a sick power play was it for the creep to show it to him anyways?!

Pacing back and forth, Bakugou digs his hands into his hair and growls. 

“FUCK!”

The only times he had seen you that way were in his room, in his brain, while he sat on his bed and grunted your name deeply, dealing with his bodily desires. 

God, how could you post something like that?

The phone on his nightstand was practically calling his name, begging him to open the app and watch you. The memory just wasn’t enough at this point.

Five, six, seven times he’d watched it now. Eight, nine… oops, there had been a miscount. He must’ve watched your video at least forty times by now, each one riling him up more than the last. 

“Fucking hell,” he hissed for the fifth time, biting into his lip viciously to keep back a groan. Why did you have to do this to him?

Even more, why did you have to make this for Kaminari?

Shit, it must’ve been midnight by now. He couldn’t even calm himself down with a cold shower, exiting the bathrooms just as excited as he’d entered. His hair dripped water that slid down his bare upper body, trailing lower and lower until it soaked into the cotton surrounding the skin below his v-line. Rifling a hand through the blond locks, he fluffed them up to their original form, still damp, but in place.

And when he travels back to his dorm, his crimson gaze slowly gazes over to yours, just a door over. Aside from the towel, his hand only clutches his phone, and once again, your TikTok flashes through his thoughts. 

Ever so hesitantly, his tongue darts over his lips, wetting them swiftly. Seriously, what the hell was that video?! Why would you post something like that?

Aside from Kaminari’s benefit, according to you.

And with those words, his fist bangs against your door, uncaring that the sun was long gone and lights were supposed to be out hours ago. He just needed to know.

You, on the other hand, were pissed. You whip open your door with burning eyes, having just been woken up at exactly 1:07 am. 

“What in the everloving fuck do you need?” It doesn’t cross your mind that it’s the exact person you had been waiting for to come to your room for hours; you’re just enraged at any dumbass who’s woken you up from a rather pleasant dream. 

Not a word is said before a phone is shoved into your face, showing last night’s thirst trap TikTok courtesy of you.

“What is this?” Bakugou interrogates, eyes aglow beyond the screen. 

Oh, you gotta be kidding me. He’s doing this now?!

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you shrug and gesture to the phone. “Well, ya know Bakugou, I think they’re calling it a ‘thirst trap’ nowadays-”

“No, YN,” he interrupts, pushing into your room. Instinctively, you step back, even though you and your body are in agreement that you want him closer. “What the hell is this?”

There’s no doubt that the glint in his eyes is possessive, especially after he slams your door shut with his foot. 

“Bakugou, c’mon, it’s past midnight. I need to go to-”

He chucks his phone to the side with a snarl and snags your hips, forcing you backwards until your knees buckle against your bed. You fall back with a gasp before Bakugou falls after you, his knees immediately assuming a position to straddle your thighs. 

“YN,” he grounds out, hands now pressed on either side of your head, “who did you make that for?” It was the million dollar question, and evidently Bakugou was going for big money. 

Of course, you want this to happen right now. God, you’ve waited months for this guy to finally display that he returned your feelings. But now, slightly peeved and a little playful at his jealousy without a cause, you wanted to have some fun.

“Who do you think, Bakugou?” Eyebrow raised, you let your tongue slide over your lower lip, smirking when he rushes to watch the action. 

“Don’t fuck around, YN.” A rough finger brushes a strand of hair away from your face, but little did you know, it was a distraction technique. Before you can tease him again, both of your wrists are trapped above your head, completely immovable in his iron grip. “Who the fuck was the video for?” 

There was a little uncertainty flickering in Bakugou’s eyes. You realized with shock that part of him was unsure about all of this. Part of him was legitimately concerned you didn’t actually want this. 

Don’t worry, you would qualm all his fears, especially after he slid a knee between your thighs and pressed against a sensitive area that left you a whining mess. “You, Katsuki!”

Instantly, all hesitation flees his body as he grips your wrists tighter, dropping his forehead to yours and capturing your mouth in a heated kiss. 

“Hell yeah it was. Now let me show you what bad girls get for showing off what’s mine.”

Safe to say, Bakugou had to help you walk to class the next day, but it was totally worth it.

You would never admit it to his face, but Kaminari’s plan was genius. Posting a thirst TikTok was the perfect way to force Bakugou into confessing. 

You just wish the dark marks covering your skin weren’t so obvious, especially the one right on the underside of your jaw. No amount of makeup would cover his hickeys, but don’t worry, you would learn that over time.

Can I request Yandere Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya kidnapping a Fan Reader? Y/N is a fan but mostly those type of fans that admire from afar. But the reader can't handle being in the same room with the yandere. The reader gets all red and runs away. And if the yandere show affection, Y/N covers their face from embarrassment.

Kidnapping Fan Reader (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: Ngl, this request is the bomb. Like seriously, I love ideas like these! Anyways, I’m gonna make these a lil long, and also I was a lil confused on how to make the reader a fan?? But I tried so here ya go. Please enjoy! (Side note: Good Lordy these are long😳😳 my bad)

Word count: 3814

Bakugou Katsuki:

As a pro hero, Bakugou was initially quite frightening to you. 

You were a nobody, just someone who always happened to be in the crowd whenever he had a person to save, but then your view of him changed when one day he saved a kitten from a tree in the park. 

It was the first time you had ever seen him so… calm. There was even a hint of a smile on his face when the cat chattered at him. Then, of course, he noticed you creepily watching him. 

A blush encompassed your face but before he could shout at you for watching him, you had dashed away with your hands on your cheeks. 

At first, Bakugou was confused. What a dumbass.

But then it was like he was seeing your blushing face everywhere. No one had ever looked at him like that-- like he was cute. 

Months passed, and you couldn’t help but notice the hero Ground Zero had become partial to patrolling your part of town for any danger. 

You brushed it off, counting it as a blessing since you often got to see him on the rooftop across from your apartment building, just surveying the street below. 

If only you had known that he was only watching you.

Bakugou couldn’t believe how stupid you were, leaving your window so open and bare for anyone to peer inside. Anyone could watch and see how you curled up on your couch to read a book. They could see how you would slowly fall asleep, head dropping back as a bit of drool dribbled down your chin. Any loser stupid enough to look through the glass would see how your shirt became rumpled as you shifted in your sleep. It was large enough to slip off one shoulder and leave your untainted skin bare for anyone to corrupt. 

God, it was like you were teasing him, daring him to come take what was his. Bakugou would teach you a lesson or two about toying with him. 

The wind blew through your open window. You always left it cracked since your AC was a bit fickle. And as you dozed off to sleep, you were almost certain that squeaky noise that reminded you to buy a little WD-40 once in a while was only a dream. 

Licking his lips, Bakugou slid open your window, cringing as it whined with the movement. “Shit,” he hissed under his breath, pushing it up the rest of the way. Thankfully, you were already knocked out, soft snores falling from your lips in a steady pattern. 

He couldn’t help but glance around your apartment, snickering at the sight of a poster in your open bedroom. It was from a photoshoot of his from when he first debuted as a pro hero. You had purchased the partially shirtless version. 

Surely you wanted this too, then.

And with that logic, he didn’t worry when your eyes fluttered open after he picked you up. 

Mind foggy, you were rudely awakened from your dream about a certain pro hero when you felt your body being lifted. The perpetrator made you wonder if you were still dreaming. 

“Ground Zero?”

“It’s Katsuki, babe. Call me Katsuki from now on.” His arms felt like solid metal, caging your knees and side to his chest as he carried you bridal style to your- open window?!

“W-what are you doing?” He snickers at this.

“Oh please. Don’t act all innocent now. I’ve seen your poster of me, and how you blush whenever I stop a villain in front of you. You want me, YN. And I want you too.”

“Please, I don’t want this!” You struggle in his arms, placing your hands on his chest to push him away but he doesn’t budge. 

“You little tease,” he hisses, using his arms to hold you over the ten story drop that was your open window. “I know what you like.” Fear leaves your body trembling as you default to your instincts, wrapping your arms around his neck so as to not fall to your death. Bakugou grins at this. “You think I don’t know how to read you by now?”

“Please don’t.” 

“Oh, don’t worry babe. I’m taking you home.”

And with that, he hops out of the window and explodes his way through the skies, reveling in the way you cling to his body so tightly. Your whines and whimpers were so cute. Almost as adorable as the blush you used to always wear around him.

It only takes a year to break you. 

In his own home, he kept you locked up tightly. Every window was barred and every door to freedom had six locks, each matching the keys he dangled on his fingertips every time he came home. 

In the first few weeks, you were scared of him and what he would do. Then a month later, you determined his attitude: he was naturally loud and volatile, but he would never hurt you. From then on, he expected you to act a certain way.

Cook him dinner, greet him with a kiss, sleep in his arms, and never try to escape. 

It had been a struggle to get you to agree to the pattern, but after months and months of practice, you finally got in the groove. 

Bakugou even got to see that classic blush of yours whenever he arrived home and peppered your face with kisses. 

Totally worth it.

Todoroki Shouto:

With Todoroki, you’re just a minor student in the Support class of UA, but everytime you cross paths with him in the halls, you let out a squeak and sprint past him. 

Todoroki tried to shake it off. Of course, you weren’t the first person to be wary of him and his abilities. Honestly, it was nothing new and he had a mark to prove it. 

Really, it’s true. Todoroki thought you hated his guts. You always avoid talking to him and hide your face whenever he comes into a room. He thought that was a red flush of anger on your face. 

It’s only when Kaminari groans about how jealous he is over the whole thing. 

“Ugh, Todoroki, you’re so lucky. Why does a hottie like YN have to be whipped for a guy like you?!”

Todoroki just shrugs and walks away, but it only hits him later in his dorm that “Oh shit, that’s what that is.”

He’s all like, “Hmm, makes sense.”

It doesn’t make sense, but he still likes you.

He’s not really sure why, he just does. Todoroki’s never had a girl that acted like you around him. Acted like he was this great person worthy of admiration, whether from a distance or up close. 

The thought of you begins to leave fuzzy feelings in his chest. You? Whipped for him? Nu-uh, no way.

But God, then he notices the way you smile when he enters a room, just before you hide your face. And the way you stutter and fumble over your feet to run away when he talks to you. 

With a quick Google search, he deduces that these are all signs of a crush. 

Oh. Ohh. Well… Todoroki kind of liked that. 

And the next day, he was determined to talk to you. He wanted to see those cherry cheeks up close, and those little flecks of color in your eyes as well. He wanted to see your pupils dilate and your lips fumble for words because you were speechless at the sight of-

What.

A man. No, not a man. An unworthy piece of shit was talking to you. Making you laugh and giggle enough that a rosy tint fell on your face. He was too close for comfort, only inches away from brushing your hand with his. 

Todoroki had to stop this. 

In seconds, he’s covered the distance between you two, feet stomping against the floor loud enough to gather the attention of most in the classroom. He had barged into your classroom to talk to you.

“T-todoroki,” you stutter pathetically, eyes wide as you scramble to hide your face. Blood had risen to the skin of your neck, clear as day thanks to you turning your head to the side. 

“YN, I need to talk to you.” With a hard glare at the other guy, the Class 1A student latches a cold hand over your wrist and tugs you out of the classroom, other students watching in awe at the display. 

“W-what are you-” you cut yourself off and curse under your breath, heat gathering in your face. God, you hated how you couldn’t control yourself in front of him.

Todoroki loved it.

“Shh, just come with me,” he hushes, dragging you into a nearby janitor’s closet just as the bell rings.

“But we need to get to class,” you choke out, proud of how you kept your words steady this round. Butterflies flutter in your abdomen when he pulls you into the tiny room, closing the door behind him before turning to you. 

“We can skip for a bit.” Heterochromatic eyes burn into your own, leaving you ducking your head and scuffing your shoes on the floor. 

“Why-” your question falls from your lips when Todoroki begins to leer closer to you. The sudden proximity leaves you stumbling back until you hit a wall, gulping when his forearms cage you in, one on either side of your head. 

“I didn’t like that, YN.”

“L-like what?”

“That guy,” he seethes. A heat begins to flow off him, growing hot enough to make your forehead perspire. The other half of your body is almost numb, slowly fading into the first dead twinges of frostbite. One of your cheeks feels sunburned while the other is completely desensitized. “He shouldn’t have been touching you.”

Was this a dream? This boy, a soon-to-be pro hero and one of the top in the school, had cornered you in a closet with his face inches away from yours. You didn’t even know he knew you existed. You had always watched from afar, first falling for his aloof looks at the sports festival. 

And now… you just didn’t know. 

“I can’t let that happen again, YN. I just can’t let you run around talking to other guys, laughing and being so close to them when you know you’re mine.” 

What was he going on about?

“Not anymore,” he finally adds, pressing his forehead against yours and staring into your eyes. 

It doesn’t dawn until it happens that he had grabbed a cloth off a shelf in the janitor’s closet. The sickly sweet smell of chloroform invades your senses as you scream in surprise.

You couldn’t help it after a while. You were so tired. And as your vision fades to black, Todoroki purses his lips and wraps his spare arm around your waist. “Not anymore,” he mutters.

You had always known the Todoroki family was loaded. Though it’s not why you liked him, you couldn’t avoid the fact that he used it to his advantage-- especially with you. 

He had bought a small apartment only a few blocks away from UA and decked it out with soundproof walls, bulletproof glass, and locks on everything. 

The one bedroom-- your bedroom-- was beautiful. Silk sheets on a king-sized bed, canopy overhanging it like a protective curtain. There was a bookshelf and a television for your entertainment, along with a window seat so you could see the outside-- the glass was tinted, of course. He didn’t want anyone invading your privacy. 

A closet was filled to the brim with clothing of your size, all fitting like they had been tailored for your body alone. As much as you hated to admit it, Todoroki treated you like a queen. A kidnapped one, yes, but a queen nonetheless. 

He was only waiting for the day that you would ask him to join you on that large, lonely bed of yours. 

Midoriya Izuku: 

In all sense of the word, you were his fan. Really, there was nothing more to it. 

You would flock to all his fights, simply amazed by his power and will. He was a hero, pure and kind to all with an open mind for everyone, and you admired that. 

It also didn’t hurt that Deku was attractive. Rippling muscles hid behind a green costume, almost too similar to the retired hero All Might’s. Freckles dusted over the bridge of his nose and onto the tips of his cheeks, giving him an almost boyish look, but there was something in his eyes. Something you couldn’t see unless he looked directly at you- Oh!

You glanced away with a blush after the number one hero looked up from tying down the villain he had captured. He must have felt your eyes and saw you staring like a hawk-- how embarrassing!

Of course, you weren’t the only one watching him. There was an entire crowd gathered to see the pro hero do his thing. It was only awkward that he had made eye contact with you of all people. What made it worse was that he had smirked. 

Not even his normal, everyday smile that he gave to everyone, but a sly, devious little quirk of his lips. It looked so foreign on his face, and it felt like he knew something you didn’t. 

Ugh, how embarrassing.

You couldn’t hide the heat on your cheeks so you decided to abandon the group of fans, leaving them to watch the rest of Deku’s and hoping to catch up on the news later that night. 

If only you knew that wouldn’t be the first time he had noticed you in a crowd. 

Deku had been watching you for weeks. You were just so adorable, he couldn’t help himself. And honestly, deep down he sees himself in you. There’s a strength behind your eyes, a confidence to do something, and a will to make things happen. 

Deku wanted to help you discover how great you are. In the beginning, at least.

Now, it’s become more of an obsession. 

Under the guise that he wants to see what quirk or potential you have, he’s fallen into the habit of watching you in his spare time. 

No, it’s not stalking. He’s just making sure you’re safe. 

Somewhere during this process of wanting to get to know your life, he’s discovered that you’re perfect. Not only for him, but for everybody. 

You were kind to others, always handing out compliments and taking the high road in arguments. So pure, so untouched. Deku wanted to keep it that way. 

It was all the better when he had followed you home one day and saw it-- the home screen of your phone. It was a picture of him taken by a local fansite. Dramatic flames had been photoshopped behind his outlined form, and even Deku had to admit he looked good. The picture had caught every detail, every indent of his body the hero suit clung to and enhanced. 

He caught you biting your lip and clicking your phone off with a blush before continuing home. 

Deku just knew he had to tease you more. 

What he felt wasn’t fluffy at all. It was intense. A deep, possessive side of him had been unlocked the more he followed you. One day, he knew he had to do something about it. 

Another kidnapping, another villain fought, and as expected, you were among the crowd of spectators. Deku figured you were just as addicted to him as he was to you.

You must’ve been. It was the only explanation. 

You wiggled your way through the crowd all the way to the edge, right where you could peek between all the surrounding people and catch a glimpse of the battle. 

Blood poured from a gash in Deku’s head as he dodged another swing from the villain. 

He hasn’t been moving his legs much, surely I can strike… now!

With a swift kick of his foot, Deku cracked the villain’s kneecap with enough force to make him crumple to the ground. His audience cheered at the sight and news reporters began smiling at their cameras, announcing to their viewers at home that the number one hero had won yet another battle.

While he kneeled down on the villain’s back, his gaze wandered the crowd. 

Where? Where is she? Where’s YN? 

Panic struck his heart when he couldn’t find you in your usual front row spot. No, you were here. You had to be.

His ears perked through all the jabberings of the crowd at the sound of a single camera clicking. Eyes darting back and forth, he finally spotted your signature phone case, with a chibi version of his own face on the back. 

Relief floods his system all before that familiar rush of arrogance that always comes with you watching him takes over. As soon as he finally catches your eye, he throws you a wink.

The outcome is certainly not disappointing. 

Oh my God, he just winked at me. 

You blanch at the sight before your throat releases a little squeal of excitement. You hadn’t even opened your mouth, but apparently it was still audible from thirty feet away. 

You’re almost positive steam is blowing from your ears by the time Deku begins chuckling, green eyes twinkling in glee. 

 Before you could spontaneously combust, you hightail it out of there, shouldering through the crowd and tearing cheek all the way to your house like a bat out of hell. 

“That did not just happen!” You slam your apartment door behind you, coughing and heaving breaths as it had been a while since you ran a goddamn marathon. 

“Oh my God, kill meeeeee,” you whine, running your hands down your face before flopping backwards onto the couch. Evidently, you had accidentally sat on your remote, as the television clicks on and scares the shit out of you. 

“Number one hero Deku defeated the villain only twenty minutes ago, right outside this gas station. Now, we do have footage, but we must warn that it may be graphic for some viewers.”

Your eyes drift to the screen as it switches to footage of the actual fight. Deku takes a hit right to the forehead, leaving a small gash before he dodges and jams the heel of his foot into his opponent’s kneecap, dropping him in seconds. The footage drags on for a few more seconds, and your face burns at the sight of him winking and snickering. 

“They actually got footage of that?!” Part of you is mortified that people all over the city had now seen that (and you’re a bit surprised that it was even real), but the other half is almost glad that it was you he had done that for. Your heart warms at the thought.

“I know, right? I kinda want to save that video now. If only they had caught your cute little blush too.” The sudden voice leaves you lying rigid on your couch. It’s a man’s, and it sounds way too cheerful for your average robber.

“Who are yo-” you cut yourself off when the man comes into view, taking your breath away. 

“Hi darling,” Deku grins. A rough hand peels away from his side to brush the hair away from your face, not faltering when you flinch away. 

“Deku…?” You try to sit up but in an instant, he’s straddling you, one leg on either side of your hip while his face nuzzles against yours. 

“God this is a dream come true, don’t you agree?” 

“How…?” Your mind has truly gone blank, even as your mouth gapes like a fish. 

“Don’t you agree?” Deku repeats insistently. The knees on either side of your hips have begun to press against you with bruising force. His hands trail up and down your arms slowly, just trying to feel you. 

“Why are you here?”

Deku huffs and pulls away, only to press his forehead against yours. “C’mon YN, I know you’re smarter than that.” Rude. “I’m here so we can finally be together!” 

Your hands tremble at your sides. There’s a definitive edge to his tone that makes you understand there’s no other way out of this.

“... You want to be together, right?” Only a second ago, he looked so dangerous and now his eyes are watering. Who exactly had you fallen for? 

“Deku… we don’t know each other.” It was then that you discovered there was nothing more awkward than reassuring a random man straddling your lap. The awkwardness only increased when his tears began to drip down onto your face. 

“YN, please don’t make me do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“I really didn’t want to do this, but I can see now there’s no other way.”

“Deku,” you don’t like the low timber that has grown into his tone, “what are you doing?” 

There was no point in fighting. Deku was a pro hero, number one at that. He’d trained for years, perfecting his body and his quirk, and the best you’ve ever done is buy a gym membership and never use it. 

That’s exactly why no matter how you pushed against his broad shoulders, his toned chest, or even tried to knee him where the sun didn't shine, you couldn’t stop him from pulling the cloth out of his pocket and laying it over your face. 

“Shh,” he couldn’t hold back his tears as you struggled. “Please don’t fight it, YN. Just breathe it in and I promise we can be together forever. Just breathe.”

You wanted to keep fighting. You didn’t want to go where this insane, batshit hero would inevitably take you. But God…

You were so tired…

The next time you wake up, the sun is shining through a nearby window. What you assume is a bed lies beneath you, enveloping you in it’s soft covers. 

Solid, muscular arms are wound around you like a barrier, and you finally take note of what had woken you up.

Pain. Teeth are nibbling at the skin of your neck, no doubt leaving marks.

“Please stop,” you say, voice scratched from little use. The thigh that has worked its way between the two of your own presses higher against your sensitivity, shifting with excitement as Deku smiles.

“Good morning, darling! Welcome to your new home!”

Uh, hey! Could I request yandere Shigaraki, Bakugou and Kaminari trying to get their darling a dog but it backfires cuz their darling is terrified of dogs? Thanks in advance :)

He Gets You a Dog but You’re Afraid of Dogs (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: This is literally the first post I’ve ever made on the road. Y’all, I gotta be honest, I’ve been down in the dumps for the past couple days, so I’m sorry if my mood has been reflected through my stories. Nonetheless, I really hope you all like this one! (Btw, love this request!)

Word count: 2098

Shigaraki Tomura:

Shigaraki notices right away that you weren’t your usual self. Before he ambushed you and took you captive, you were always happy-go-lucky and would smile like no tomorrow.

Somewhere along the line, though, you had changed. Maybe it was that he kept you chained to the bed 24/7. Or maybe it was that you only got to see the sunlight once every two weeks. But surely it wasn’t that he forced you to give him a hug and a kiss every time he entered your room.

No. You loved that tradition just as much as he did.

So maybe it was because you were lonely. Shigaraki noticed that he had to leave you alone more often than he wanted to because of League business, but he also knew that their lair wasn’t exactly a lovely setup.

The TV in his room never brought back the light in your eyes. Nor did the loaded bookshelves. No radios or music or anything made you as enlivened as you were.

But then an idea struck him.

Humans were social creatures, and the only person you communicated with was him. No, of course he wasn’t going to let you talk to another person, that would drive him insane. But Shigaraki knew animal companionship would be just as good.

The adoption center emptied out at the sight of a man covered in disembodied hands, so thank goodness Shigaraki didn’t have to fight over other people for the puppy of his choosing.

A german shepherd was his choice. Obviously a reject because of its older age, the dog was fully grown and was over a third of Shigaraki’s height. It was a trainable beast that would be adorable in your eyes. The perfect option for both of you.

The dog didn’t resist being picked up and dropped out of the pen. Shigaraki snagged a leash off a shelf on his way out, and soon they were both on their way.

Back in the villain’s lair, the others threw him weird looks but kept their mouths sewn shut. They all knew about you, the poor girl locked up in his bedroom like a playtoy, but they weren’t stupid enough to go against Shigaraki.

He didn’t bother to knock on the door. Instead, he barged in and sniggered at the sight of you, passed out and snoring in his bed. The shirt you wore to bed last night was his, and he licked his lips at the sight of it barely covering your upper thighs.

A delicious surprise.

Shaking his head out of his thoughts, Shigaraki picks up his dog and lugs it over to you.

“YNNNN. Wake uppppp.”

You grumbled in resistance, but your eyelids fluttered open anyways.

“Mmm, Tomura? What’s…” you trail off in a yawn and rub the sleep away from your eyes, trying to figure out if the sight before you was real.

You didn’t need sight to know; the german shepherd panted and licked your face before you even got a good look at it.

“OH SHIT!” you cried out, rolling to the other side of the bed before falling to the floor and crawling to the corner of the room.

Shigaraki watches your movements with raised brows, then his mind rattles at the sight of you tearing up and shivering in the corner.

“G-Get the dog out of here!” You point with a shaky finger. “...please?”

He’s still frozen in shock, eyes locked on where you had previously sat before he hears you whimper. This prods him to jump into action.

Hastily, he leads the dog out into the hallway and lets it run loose, all before coming back inside and closing the door.

“Better?”

“Better,” you nod, forcing yourself to give him a smile. Shigaraki sighs and makes his way over to you, plopping himself down on the floor so he can see your face.

“So… dogs huh?”

“Yeah. I’m not really their biggest fan.” The villain nods solemnly.

“... so we can’t keep him?”

Part of you is surprised that he even asked, but the other part of you is screaming to take it and run.

“No, please.” He purses his lips and glances at the door.

“All right,” you flinch at the feeling of his hand cupping your cheek. “I’ll get rid of him.” There’s a dangerous glint in his eye.

“But you owe me, darling.”

Bakugou Katsuki:

As much as he hated to admit it, Bakugou knew you weren’t really happy.

Trapped and locked away in the house day-in day-out was wearing on you. Though you hadn’t lost your fire, you still weren’t joyful like he had been used to back in UA.

After kidnapping you the minute you both graduated, he kept you held up in his new house where nobody could take you away. But he hated to see you so unhappy.

So he decided to get you a dog. Oops.

“YN, come down here.” He dragged in a dog that was perfect for both of you. It was a pitbull, a vicious little thing that was still gnawing on the leash when it entered the house.

“What do you want, dickhead?” You sniggered. Pissing off Bakugou was usually the highlight of your day, since you had learned early on that his threats of hurting you or punishing you for pushing his buttons were all empty.

You made your way down the stairs, narrowed eyes darting around then locking on the front door where Bakugou stood with- oh fuck.

“You’re welcom-”

“AASJSHFHS!” You choked on your own spit and darted back up the stairs, tripping half way and crawling up the rest like a panicked seal.

The smirk on Bakugou’s face fell in an instant as his mind went blank.

What just…

Then his brows furrowed as he glanced down at the dog, who, by now, was sitting perfectly still at his side with a tilted head. It let out a whimper and Bakugou nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you and me both buddy.”

Thankfully, Mr. Sunshine isn’t dim enough to take the dog with him upstairs to confront you; instead, he ties its leash to the stair railing before making his way up.

“YN?” He knocks on the bedroom door. In the beginning, he thought it was almost cute of you to think that you would get to sleep alone. He was glad how quickly you adjusted to sleeping in his arms.

“FUCK YOU!” you cry out, voice cracking and trembling. You were crying.

Bakugou grows angry at your implication. He wasn’t trying to scare you!

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW YOU DON’T LIKE DOGS?!”

He barges through the door and finds you hugging your knees to your chest on his bed. You’re huddled against the headboard, and even Bakugou can see from the entryway that you were trembling.

Another yell dies on his tongue when he spots a tear slipping down your cheek. His heart stutters at the complete, unrestrained fear in your eyes.

Adam’s apple bobbing, he makes his way over to you and sits down on the mattress, laying an apologetic hand on your kneecap.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were afraid.”

“It’s okay.” It damn better be.

A thumb of his wipes away a stray tear on your cheek and his body grows warm at the contact. He wasn’t much for loving communication, but God did he love touching you.

“I’ll bring it back to the pound right now.”

You nod in thanks and purse your lips as he rises. Suddenly, a hand of yours darts out to grab his. He turns back to you with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. I know you might’ve really liked it.” His teeth grit at your ignorance.

“The only thing I care about is you, dumbass. Don’t forget that.”

Kaminari Denki:

Kaminari knew you were growing lonely.

This guy has an entire list of your habits, and he was almost positive talking to yourself wasn’t one of them. Safe to say, he was a tad concerned.

He had passed by your bedroom and heard you jabbering on about whether hot dogs were tacos or sandwiches.

To be fair, he thought it was a valid argument at first, but after listening to you for twenty minutes straight, he knew there was something wrong.

Kaminari loves you dearly, and though he’s not sure if you feel the same, he’s certainly desperate to try. Though you resented him for kidnapping you from your own home, he knew there was one thing in the world that would break down your walls-- one thing no human could resist.

It wasn’t a big dog, no. It was a little golden retriever puppy that jumped and yelped at Kaminari’s side as they walked home.

“She’s gonna love you so much buddy!” he grinned, patting the puppy on the head. “She’s gonna love both of us now!”

Opening the door to the house, Kaminari searched for you before sneaking the dog inside. Then he called out your name in a sing-songy tone.

“YNNNNNN, guess what I got you!” He can’t keep the excitement off his face as he hears you slip out of your bedroom and make your way down the stairs.

“What do you-...” You cut yourself off, watching him warily as you see movement behind him. There’s something… small, barely visible between the blond’s legs but you can tell you’re not gonna like it either way.

“Surprise!” he shouts, picking up the golden retriever and holding it out to you.

Yeah, sure. Doggy pictures online were adorable to look at, but face-to-face, there was always a chance that it would BITE YOUR FACE OFF!

Not even a second after seeing it, you open your mouth and let out a noise suspiciously akin to that of a parrot’s squawk before tearing cheek down the nearest hallway.

Kaminari just watches this go down, the smile slowly falling from his face. Both him and the dog jump at the sound of the door slamming.

They glance at each other before Kaminari shrugs. “Guess she doesn’t like you.”

The dog growls.

Meanwhile, you are huddled up in the downstairs bathroom of Kaminari’s house, trembling in fear and curling up in the bathtub. The curtains are hastily drawn to disguise yourself and seamlessly blend in with the environment.

The only thing that breaks your genius cover is the squeak you let out when the door opens.

“YN?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

That was an excellent question. What did he do?

“...I’m sorry?”

He covers his ears and expects another yell, but all he gets is a small whimper.

“YN?” Kaminari is hesitant to approach you, but he closes the bathroom door behind him before he does so, just in case a sudden canine intrusion doesn’t occur.

All he hears in response is a sniffle, and when he pulls back the curtain, his heart yowls at the sight. He made you cry.

“Oh, YN…” Your face is tucked into your knees as your body shivers with silent sobs. In an instant, he’s in the tub with you, sitting back on his calves and tugging you into his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair.

(If you thought he was gonna miss this chance to hold you in his arms, you were wrong.)

“Shhh,” he rubs your back as your shuddering slows. “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay.”

“I-I’m scared of dogs,” you mumble, tightening your grip in his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, pressing you further into his chest. The feeling of your hair is so soft against his cheek. “It’s not your fault. The only person I got it for was you.”

You were hesitant to display your gratitude, so you settled for nodding. The bathroom falls to silence as Kaminari basks in the euphoria from holding you in his arms. You took comfort in him.

“I’ll give the dog back tonight, then how about I treat you to a nice dinner, hmm?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and his grip on you tightens. “Good,” he hums. Well, look at that. He had you all to himself and he got you to agree to a date with him. Win-win.

I just read the one with Dabi and Shigaraki getting seen by a villain and telling the reader to run and they get lost? Could I request that but with Bakugou, Shinsou and Todoroki? uwu thank you love your writing

He Tells You to Run During His Fight and You Get Lost (Yandere BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Shigaraki and Dabi Version

A/N: Ajskdjd I don’t know if you actually sent this or if it just glitched but bro this request showed up in my inbox six times😂 I was just sitting there looking at it like wtffff. Anyways, I’m glad you liked the other one, and thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Word count: 2197

Bakugou Katsuki: 

The entire street is blacked out. 

Of course, on the one night you actually are willing to go on a date with him, a villain attacks. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bakugou hisses, letting his hand explode for the occasional light. 

A villain with electricity powers no less. With one flick of the guy’s hand, the whole street had turned to black, but not before he saw a nice fistful of explosion approach his face. 

Bakugou had told you to run before the fight, and now that the villain was gone, you were too.

“YN!” 

“YN COME BACK HERE!”

Yeah, sure, your relationship was a bit bumpy at first, especially considering the fact that he had taken you from your own home and forced you to live with him, but he firmly believed you two had worked out the kinks over the past two weeks. 

Evidently, that was false. 

“YN I SWEAR TO GOD!”

You left him. You really had. How dare you try to leave him. You truly were dumber than he thought, because he could find you in seconds. 

He wasn’t hurt that you had taken the opportunity to escape, but you would certainly feel his wrath once you were back where you belonged.

Rage swelled in his chest as he released another angered roar into the night. 

You, on the other hand, are terrified. Where the hell is Katsuki?

It was too dark for you to see anyone or anything. No cars were on the streets, no flashing signs. It was like you accidentally stepped into a ghost town. 

In the distance, you heard shouts and thunders. The villain? No, Katsuki could take him. 

Then you saw it. A large, towering figure that was charging for you at an alarming speed. Your blood ran cold at the sight of- Oh God, was that electricity?-- in his palm. 

It was too dark to tell, but you weren’t taking your chances. Cursing under your breath, you spun on your heels and ran. 

Meanwhile, Bakugou had finally found you. His palms fired up with light as he sprinted your way, barking a single “FUCK” when you began running. You really had tried to escape. That was not okay. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Your eyes darted left and right, searching for an alleyway or anywhere else where you could hide and wait for the villain to pass. “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.”

Finally, you found a familiar corner, one you and Bakugou had turned at only half an hour ago. You remember an alley being right after the first building. 

Following the path with burning legs, you took the sudden turn and dashed into the alley, crashing into the wall and slumping down behind the nearest dumpster. Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

You could hear the villain’s thunderous stomps, storming right towards your dead end before they passed it completely, allowing you to release a relieved sigh. It was only when the footsteps suddenly returned that you panicked, heart practically jumping out of your chest. 

“YN!” a familiar voice barked, rage so undisguised you almost choked on it. 

“Katsuki?!” You asked in surprise, supporting yourself against the brick wall as you rose with burning calves. His crimson gaze pierced right through you. “Katsuki,” you smiled, “you’re alive!” 

Bakugou sneered at that. Psh yeah, like that lame ass villain could kill him. But that wasn’t the problem. “You bitc-”

Whatever he was going to say, you cut it off with a suffocating grip around his midsection. “Oh, thank God you found me. I thought I was being chased by that guy!” 

Your hold is so tight he can’t breath, and it’s only when his lungs start to burn that he reluctantly taps out. “Okay, okay,” he pats your shoulder, “unclench, will ya?”

His anger from earlier has almost deflated completely; your touchy-feely-ness with him kind of had that effect. “Let’s just go home.” 

Part of him was still struggling to accept that you hadn’t tried to leave him, but it faded away when you gave him that blinding smile and adorable little nod. “You sure you don’t wanna finish that date?”

Oh God, how could he ever doubt your love when you asked him that?

Shinsou Hitoshi: 

Shinsou would be damned if he let you go.

You were the light of his life. The beam at the end of the tunnel. You were his perfect match. You couldn’t leave him.

He’d promised you that he would never use his quirk on you back when you first got together, but tonight he’s afraid he’ll have to break that promise. 

A villain attacked, one who had stayed mute for the first five minutes of the fight. Right in the beginning, Shinsou knew he couldn’t have you stick around. 

“Let me help!”

“No, YN! Just go! Run!” You watched him for a couple more seconds with wide eyes before nodding and booking it down the streets, never looking back. 

Maybe you had thought it would be the last time you would ever see him. Maybe you were thankful for that fact. 

Either way, you were sorely mistaken. 

The villain finally cracked when Shinsou trapped him in a headlock, squeezing and squeezing until the guy finally wheezed out a “please.”

Then the purple-haired hero told him to dive off the nearest bridge into the river below, and he listened dutifully. 

“YN?” Shinsou called out now, slowly making his way down the street. The more time passed, the more silence heard, the faster he upped his pace. 

The distance from you was almost painful. God, how he just wanted to feel you again. Hear you again. 

“YN, please come here!” Shinsou was jogging now, lavender eyes foraging every inch of the wide open street he was on. 

He was desperate now. Never had he felt so helpless and needy, but God how he needed you in his life. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he had a future to look forward to-- with you. He wasn’t going to let that slip out of his grasp, even if you didn’t feel the same. 

In time, and with enough coaching, you would be perfectly happy with him.

“YN, please tell me where you are!”

Blood rushing in his ears, he began to increase his speed to a sprint, head whipping back and forth across every alley and street until he caught a glimpse of- there!

“YN!” 

Your familiar head of hair perked up at the name and you rose from your hiding spot behind a trash can. Your eyes were glistening and red, veins popping out beside the irises. 

“Hitoshi!” you wailed, locking gazes with him and quickly closing the distance between the two of you. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as soon as your arms wound around his neck. 

“God, I’m so glad you’re okay,” you mumble against his neck. He could feel the wetness of your tears, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it. 

“Me too.” he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you just as tightly. He keeps his gaze locked on the wall behind your head while he contemplates his next move. “I thought you tried to-... I thought you were going to leave me for good.”

You snort bitterly into his neck. “Why would I ever leave you, Hitoshi? I love you.”

What if you were lying? What if you were lying to him right now? He could always ask…

But no, you said you loved him! And he promised you that he would never use his quirk on you. 

But surely it wouldn’t hurt to hear your honest answer, no?

“YN?”

“Yeah?” 

Your grip on him went slack as he felt your head drop completely against his shoulder. No doubt your eyes were glazed over right now, so beautifully vulnerable and yearning for his command. 

“Tell me the truth, darling. Were you trying to escape from me?”

“No, Hitoshi,” you mumble blankly into his skin. “I’ve fallen in love with you. I no longer feel the need to escape.” 

Breathless, Shinsou allows a grin to grow on his face as he dips his hand into your hair, petting it softly. “Good girl, YN. You’re so good to me now. So honest.”

You nod stiffly and Shinsou clicks his tongue. 

In an instant, your grip regains its previous gusto as you rub your cheek against his collarbone. “Can we go home now, ‘Toshi?”

Your mind was so trusting, so vulnerable, so pliable like puddy in Shinsou’s hands. Sure, he slipped up on his promise, but with your unconditional love, he was sure you would let it go in no time. 

“Of course, love.”

Todoroki Shouto: 

You were finally falling for him. Last night, like every night before, he laid a kiss on your lips as he returned home, only this time you responded. 

There was only one way to describe his feelings: he was addicted. To your love, to your touch, to you. 

It’d been so long since someone held him like you did, with that glimmer of adoration in your eyes. He had finally broken down your walls like you had done for him so long ago. 

He wanted to take you on a date tonight as a thank you. A gesture of gratefulness for reciprocating his love. 

But then that piece of shit attacked. 

Todoroki had no other option; he had to tell you to run. 

“YN please! Before he hurts you!” 

Fear was evident in your eyes, so getting you to flee was easy. 

And now that the villain was burned into oblivion, the hard part he dreaded had finally come: searching for you.

Within the ten-block radius he covered, you were nowhere to be found. Every divot, every ravine, every goddamn crack on the sidewalk, he searched for you. Hours passed, but he didn’t know how many. All he knew was that he couldn’t find you.

Of course, he should have expected this. 

You actually left him. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t see it coming. That kiss, no matter how much passion you had put into it, was obviously a lie. You were playing innocent, toying with his feelings just so you could really stick it to him in the end. 

He should’ve known. He knew, since he was a child, that he was an unloveable monster. He had been hanging onto you like his last thread of hope that he could be redeemed.

But now that you were gone, there was no way it wasn’t true. You didn’t deserve a freak like him, with a face not even a mother could love. 

Head hanging, Todoroki made his way home. His shoulders slouched forward as he dragged his feet along the sidewalk. Deep inside his chest, there was an ache. A longing for you, disguised as a physical pain. 

“Shouto.” 

The memory of your voice plagued his mind.

“Shouto!”

Growing louder and more insistent. No, of course he didn't want to forget you, but he had to.

“SHOUTO!” Tingles light up the flesh of where someone grabs his hand, and without hesitation, he spins and tackles them in a hug. 

“YN, please tell me this is real.”

Your cute little snort of disbelief makes his heart stutter. “Nah, this is all just a dream.”

“Don’t say that,” he grumbles into your neck. “You were gone for so long. I thought you left me.”

“‘Left you’? Seriously, Shouto? Is that why you were moping along when I finally found you?!”

“Yes. I thought you hated me for what I did to you, and escaped when the opportunity arose.” 

You tensed against him at his words. He hears you swallow. “I’m not gonna lie. The thought did cross my mind.” 

A nasty feeling crawls up his throat. “But then I realized I couldn’t.” 

“Really?” 

“Y-yes. Shouto… I realized I didn’t want to leave you. Because I-”

Here it was.

“-love you.” 

So it wasn’t a game after all. You weren’t pretending. That kiss had been real, you had meant it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the thought. He wasn’t a monster.

“I love you too, YN.” And you were never leaving the house after this. 

What a tease you were to toy with his feelings. Leave him for so long only to come back and drag him in again. For so long, you knew you felt this way, and only now, after he had searched for you for hours while you let him suffer those thoughts, you decided to confess your emotions. 

Todoroki’s love for you wasn’t a joke. And maybe, now that you seemed to understand you were his, he could finally teach you that lesson physically.

A matching mark of your own would do just the trick.

hiii can i get a scenario of class 1a having to do some body guard duty for some rich families wedding, and bakugous crush not being able to go due to family reasons. when they arrived they found out it was actually the readers family, how would bakugou and the rest react thanks hehe

Dance With Me Tonight (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Bakugou is pissed after he’s assigned to be a bodyguard along with the rest of the class for one of the richest families in Japan. He didn’t even want to go since you, his crush, weren’t gonna be there! But wait… surely that’s not you on the dance floor with another guy? 

A/N: Oof, sorry this one took so long! I’m actually feeling good about it, but only time will tell. Anyways, thank you so much for this awesome request and I hope you like it! (Side note: I’m just gonna leave this here in case anyone wants to listen to it while reading👀)

Word count: 2706

        This was ridiculous.

        The rented black and white tuxedo was itchy in unsavory places, the extravagant ballroom smelled highly of old lady perfume, and there were so many rich bastards. 

        Bakugou wasn’t even sure why he came. Though his class had been requested to guard the wedding and its reception, there was really no point. 

        You weren’t there. When Aizawa had broken the news that Class 1A was requested to guard one of the richest families in Japan, you were the only person with a legitimate excuse to schmooze your way out of the job. 

        “I can’t go, family’s got stuff tonight.” 

        Bakugou gritted his teeth at the thought. The room was dimly lit, the only source coming from the chandeliers hanging above as a band played slow songs at the front of the room. Couples wrapped each other up in their arms and rocked leisurely to the deep crooning of the main singer, and it was no surprise that the newlyweds were in the center of it all. 

        Envy swelled up in his throat. Everyone had someone tonight. Even the green midget had the annoying pink girl, both scouting the room while giggling and chatting. 

        Why did I even fucking come?

        “-Bakugou… Bakugou!” Kirishima waved his hand in front of the blond’s face, waiting for some kind of reaction. Finally, the latter shook himself into reality, glancing away from the murmuring crowd. 

        “What?”

        “Are you okay? You’ve been zoned out for like twenty minutes…” 

        Bakugou rolls his eyes and pushes past the redhead, once more in search of that abandoned balcony he had spotted earlier. “I just don’t know why we even had to be here. No villain’s gonna attack a crowd of superpowered rich fucks.” 

        He allows his gaze to wander the room as he strides, searching for something to do to fend off the oncoming boredom. 

        “Oh come on, Bakugou, wouldn’t that be the perfect time to test your skills? Nobody said you had to wait for the rich people to fight the villains.”

        “Yeah yeah,” he grumbles, crimson orbs still scouring the party.

        “Plus, it’s their wedding day. They don’t want to tear their nice dresses and suits. Think smart here, my friend.” 

        “Whatever.” 

        “GUYS GUYS!” A squeaky voice Bakugou can only connect to that of the perverted blond who always trails behind him around school reaches the boys’ ears. Two hands grab one of each’s shoulders as Kaminari slips between the pair, obviously eager to share some gossip. “Guess who I just saw all dolled up right here?” 

        The electric boy doesn’t even have enough time for a grand reveal; Bakugou’s ears have already perked for other dramatic whispers. 

        “Hold on, guys, is that YN?” 

        “No way, she said she was gonna be busy toni- holy shit it is!”

        At this point, the tense blond isn’t even trying to hide his eavesdropping. Shrugging the hand off his shoulder, Bakugou sticks close to the wall as he stomps over to the chattering pair, who just so happen to be Mina and Toru. Both stick out like sore thumbs in glittering, hot pink dresses among collections of no-doubt expensive pastel chiffon. 

        “Where?” he barks, leaving the girls to squeal at the sudden intrusion. Mina is the first to recover, and as she turns to him a smug glint flashes through her eyes. With a nod of her head, she gestures to the crowd. 

        “Down there in the red dress.” His gaze travels in said direction. “She’s dancing with a boy.” 

        The word leaves Bakugou’s mind in scrambles. You were here, but you were also with another guy. His chest tightens at the fact and when he finally catches sight of you, a breath is caught in his throat. 

        Maroon silk hugs tightly to your every curve, outlining your admirable figure. A sweetheart neckline adorns your chest, lined with black gems that glitter every time they catch the light above. There’s a mischievous slit trailing up your leg that stops just above mid-thigh, revealing smooth skin that seems to go on forever thanks to the black stilettos on your feet. Every edge and line is stitched the same color among the tight dress, showing more and more contrasting patterns of black and red as you sway in the boy’s arms. 

        Bakugou’s sneer transforms into an all out snarl at the minimal proximity between the two of you, completely ignorant of the uncomfortable smile on your face. Your garnet-colored lips pull back forcibly, letting out a nervous lap with every word the other man whispers to you. Face framed perfectly by your curled locks, the blond can’t ignore just how hot you look right now. 

        He also can’t ignore how much he needs that guy to stop touching you. Before he can even register it, his dark shoes are slapping against the marble floor, making quick work of the distance between himself and you two. 

        In seconds, he’s silently fuming next to you both, awkwardly staring the boy down who’s shivering in his my-maid-ironed-these slacks. 

        “Move it, extra,” Bakugou hisses, vermillion eyes burning into his enemy’s skull. That’s all it really takes, as the boy rips away from you and disappears into the crowd of swaying couples around, the only evidence of his existence being the slow-to-fade tension in your shoulders. 

        “Katsuki!” you reluctantly purse your lips, disapproving but also secretly thankful. No words can fall from your lips after that, all of them stolen away at the sudden feeling of his bruising grip on your hips. Instinctively, your hands reach up to wrap around his neck, assuming the appropriate dance position considering your location in the room. 

        “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here?” He really hadn’t wanted to come, at least not after he heard you weren’t going to make an appearance. Some part of him feels betrayed that he had almost missed seeing you like this. 

        The room feels like it’s closing in on you. Of course you had your reasons for not wanting to admit that you were born into this crowd, but being surrounded by them is getting to you. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?” 

        Bakugou bites back the refusal on his tongue when he sees your anxious gaze, observing as it constantly flits back and forth between himself and those around you. “Okay,” he nods, squinting in the darkened room to search for… there! The balcony from earlier. He had seen it when he first entered the empty room along with the rest of Class 1A, waiting for instructions from the wedding’s director while hooking each other up with walkie talkies and earpieces. 

        “Either that’s where the villains are gonna come in or that’s where I’m gonna jump from halfway through this party.”

        “Come on.” His rough hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you along as he shoulders past offended couples who scoff at his impropriety. 

        The outside is so much more peaceful than its opposite, with the only sounds being crickets chirping in the dark forest below and melodic tunes still echoing through the ballroom’s door cracks. 

        Moon shines on the balcony like a spotlight, choosing both of you as it’s favored guests. It’s warm outside, even with the occasional gusts of wind that stick your hair to your lips, and part of you is in awe that Bakugou even found this place as beautiful as most would. Maybe you underestimated him. 

        “So why did you lie about tonight?” The blond’s voice drags you away from the balcony’s banister, urging you to turn around and lean back against it. Your gaze locks on the ground as you rub your arms shyly. 

        “It wasn’t really a lie, per se.” Bakugou snorts. 

        “Sure, and I’m not the best student in the school.” 

        “You really aren’t…”

        “WHAT WAS THAT?!” His riled shout makes you snicker, hiding a smile behind your hand. Bakugou can’t help but admire you, even when you piss him off. Though, he can’t ignore the goosebumps covering your bare arms either. The fact that the straps of your dress were about halfway down your upper arms wasn’t really helping your situation. Grinding his teeth at the stupidity of your outfit, he shrugs of his jacket and approaches you, keeping his gaze focused on the task at hand as he encompasses your shoulders with the thicker fabric. 

        “Oh, uh thanks.”

        “Yeah.”

        Awkward silence ensues, leaving the faint music of the inside to taint the normally innocent atmosphere. Bakugou doesn’t want to crack on the pressure, but part of him still wants to feel you.

        “So, erm,” he rubs the back of his neck, “do you want to dance?”

        The question makes you glance up in surprise. Was this really Bakugou? Giving you his jacket, getting all possessive and now, now asking to dance? No way. Maybe he hit his head or something. Or maybe… 

        Maybe he liked you back.

        “Sure.”

        You both shuffle towards each other, barely keeping yourselves from flushing to the fullest when you finally are close enough to touch each other again. Then the blond finally makes the first move again, quivering hands sneaking around your waist painfully slow. 

        You’re no hypocrite, being just as hesitant as he was in the act of sneaking your hands up and around his neck once more. There was something about asking to initiate the dance that made this so much more awkward than earlier, back inside when Bakugou just forced you both into it. 

        Now, it was so incredibly tedious, forcing yourselves to relax and sway to the music slowly fading out from the inside. Then at one point you threw caution to the wind and dropped your head, laying your cheek on his shoulder as you faced the wilderness beyond. 

        “So…” Bakugou finally speaks up again. His grip tightens on your hips in frustration. Obviously he heard the shakiness of his voice just as well as you had. He calms down with a clear of his throat, allowing his gaze to also fade off into the black surrounding the host building of your family’s wedding. “Why didn't you tell us?” 

        Your form tenses against his own, leaving him in a dreaded panic that you would somehow just disappear before his eyes. Then you answer.

        “I didn’t want you to see me in a bad light…”

        Bakugou shakes his head, still rocking you both back and forth in a steady pattern to the music. “YN, you shouldn’t worry about what those extras think-”

        “Not them,” you interrupt. “You.”

        “...Oh.” He’s silent for a minute, and distantly you wonder if he can feel the racing thumps that are echoing against your rib cage right now. At last he pipes up with another question. “Why?” 

        “I just,” you peel your head away to look him in the eyes, just barely avoiding biting your rouged lips, “I didn’t want you to think I was this spoiled brat who paid her way into UA. I wanted… I don’t know… I guess I wanted you to respect me.” 

        The intensity is enough to make you glance away as Bakugou stares at you in wonder. 

        “YN, I respect you in a hell of a lot of ways.” 

        From any other, the words would have left you scoffing. From Bakugou, though, they leave you redder than a cherry as you resist ducking your face into his button-up dress shirt. 

        “...Oh.” That seemed to be the response of the day. 

        The balcony returns to silence, dulled music still flowing from the party behind the doors. Bakugou’s hands, strong and firm, are still attached to your waist, encouraging the constant swaying while you keep your hands locked behind his neck. The urge to dip your fingers into his fluffy locks is taking a surprising amount of self-restraint at this moment. 

        The air of the moment is serene, strangely tranquil considering one of its residents. You feel content and relaxed for the first time in a long time, all thanks to right now. There’s no eagerness to hide yourself, nor pressure to spill any more secrets. And that’s precisely why you feel at peace with the idea of spilling your feelings now, rather than letting them out during a moment of peer pressure from others. 

        Right now, it’s just him and you, locked in an embrace and swaying underneath the moon and the stars to a faint melody of love and happiness. And it’s perfect. 

        “Katsuki…” Here we go.

        “Yeah?” His voice is soothing, strangely so compared to its usual gruffness. 

        “I like you. Like like-like you. A lot.”  

        Well fuck. That was so much more awkward than you expected it to be. In just two seconds, your mind had gone from “let’s do this” to “can I somehow burrow in his shirt pocket and die” thanks to that confession. 

        For some odd reason, Bakugou seems to agree with your train of thoughts. One of his hands leaves your waist to slip into the hair on the back of your head. Bunching up a collection of curls in his fist, he shoves your face right into his shoulder, dismissing the surprised squeal you give. 

        “What a lame way to say that.” Ouch.

        The response makes you struggle against him, growing ashamed and embarrassed as you push against his toned stomach to escape, but it’s ineffective. His grip has turned to iron, solid and unforgiving as you become more and more frantic. A plea to let you go dies on your lips when he finally opens his mouth. 

        “Stop squirming and let me talk.” 

        You do, allowing him to take a deep breath before speaking again. 

        “I…” he turns his head and gulps. You can’t see thanks to your face being squished against his chest, but you can tell by the quick pounding near your forehead that he’s just as nervous as you. “I like you too, dumbass.”

        Jaw dropping, your mouth goes dry at the confession. Then your hands fall like dead weight to your sides. 

        “Oh.” 

        “That’s it, that’s all I get?!”

        “Sorry, sorry, I just umm… I wasn’t expecting that.” You trail your hands back up over his shoulders once more, finally slipping them into the disarrayed strands. “But I’m glad.” 

        At your reply, he leans back to glance at your face. A wave of relief seems to flask through his eyes when he confirms that, yes, you do mean it.

        “Me too,” he admits, sneaking his arms back around your waist and settling his wandering hands on the small of your back. 

        The tension in the air has drawn back to a zero, and you’re still smiling giddily at the confession. He liked you back, no matter where you came from. 

        He begins to rock you back and forth once more, leading you to the slow song of the band inside as his fingers knead into your skin, flexing and unflexing with every knot your own untangle in his scalp. 

        Owls hoot in the trees beyond the balcony as the stars glitter down on both of you, washing you in dim rays. 

        It’s warm out. It’s nice out. And all you can do is hum along when Bakugou drops his head on your shoulder, huffing a relieved sigh. 

        “God I’m glad I came tonight.”

bakugo when the reader is like in that cheerleader outfit from the sports festival 😳😳🤯🤯

Bakugou’s S/O in Sport’s Festival Cheer Outfit (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Bruhhhh this was such a good idea, but I’m not gonna lie, I got a lil thirsty😳 Like seriously, this shit gets 🥵, so read with caution?? In all honesty, I hope you like it! Please enjoy!

Word count: 637

Oof, now this is a concept

When you do this, you’re playing a dangerous game, poking the bear, riling up a cobra preparing to strike. 

While the other girls dressed up for sake of competition, you did it to play with fire. 

You’re standing on the field, thighs and midriff bare for all the viewers to see like fresh meat on a platter. 

Then finally-- finally-- Bakugou steps out with his other classmates and confronts the sight. 

His eyes are just… roaming.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sight as the atmosphere grows harder to breathe. The tension finally snaps when he- umm what?

Explodey boy charges at you with a sneer, his hands outstretched and sparking. 

He’s livid.

“YN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING?!” 

His tone is scolding and accusatory, almost like a father chastising a child. 

You weren’t exactly one to drool over being chided. In fact, your boyfriend just lit a fire under your ass. 

“Excuse me?”

“Take it off right now!” 

Oh-ho no, that’s NOT happening. 

Bakugou couldn’t believe you, testing him by going out in front of others by wearing that.

Rage pumped through his bloodstream at the sight, but not only that. His pants were growing tighter as well. 

He knew you were peeved at his tone, but the last thing he wanted on you was other people’s wandering eyes.

You were his, and as much as he didn’t wanna be that guy… he was totally gonna be that guy. 

Bakugou steps closer to you and ignores how you try to back away determinedly. His hand latches onto yours and drags you away, tugging you off the field and away from prying eyes. 

You struggle to keep up with his vigorous strides and huff in anger when he finally stops, pulling you into a room and locking the door. 

The room is silent as his back faces you. Not one part of you is afraid, all of your limbs held tight in preparation for an attack. 

“YN,” uh oh, “do you have any idea how fucking unbearable you are right now?” 

Ah, such a way with words. 

Anyways…

His voice is strained and dripping with lust, and when he finally turns around you understand why. 

Bakugou’s nostrils are flaring, and he takes deliberate steps closer to you. Try all you want, you can’t stop the harsh thumping of your heart at this moment. 

When he’s finally close enough, his hand grasps your wrists and walks you back, back, back until you make contact with a cold wall. 

“You made this mess, sweetheart,” he trails his lips down your throat. “Now fix it.” 

An hour later, Bakugou is called out to fight. He swaggers into the arena, disheveled hair barely noticeable from this distance. Thankfully, the high neck of his jacket covers a few hickeys as well. 

 You, however, scramble back into the stands, hair ruffled and clothes oversized. 

“Aww YN, where’d the cheerleading outfit go?” Toru pouts, waggling her pom poms.

Nervously giggling, you collapse into a seat next to her, ignoring the shakiness of your legs as you try to sit in a comfortable position. Ouch. 

“I, uh, I had to change. I was getting a little cold.” 

Not really. But Bakugou’s sweatshirt combined with leggings hides his lovebites better than that outfit ever would. 

It is definitely still tucked in the back of your closet for… future occasions, though.

Standing down in the arena, Bakugou spots you in the stands and throws you a devilish smirk that has you squeezing your legs together.

When He’s Your Fellow Actor (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Haikyuu!! Version

A/N: I swear to God, I just write stories with bullet points🤦‍♀️. It’s an addiction I only give into at 2 am tho, I promise…. Maybe 3. Or maybe 6 am when my family wakes up to go to work, idk!! I'M WORKING ON IT. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy these headcanons/mini reminder that I write for bnha cuz it’s been a fucking minute!

Word count: 1781

Bakugou Katsuki: 

The “Hero-Villain on the show but everyone ships them in real life” trope.

Bakugou’s the hero, but you’re the villain😯

In all honesty, you ship your characters together too, but Bakugou doesn’t get it. 

In an interview he did with you, he got so confused when the interviewer asked you both how you felt about it. 

“People are doing what?!”

He got a lil pissy about it. 

“You guys are calling that scene when she tried to throw me in a vat of acid our ‘first date’?!” 

While Bakugou just sits next to you in utter bewilderment, the attention shifts to you and you’re just like, “Yeah, I think they’re cute.” *shrugs*

*shrugs*

*SHRUGS*

Why the fuck were you shrugging?! THIS WAS FUCKING INSANE!!

Bakugou is all angsty for the rest of the interview, and afterwards you two go to lunch (for the convenience of course).

He’s still watching you order with utter amazement and eventually you catch his drift. 

*sigh* “What’s wrong, Katsuki?” 

His lips twitch at the sound of his name, then he reels himself in. 

“Don’t *sigh* at me! What the fuck was that back there?”

You’re just sitting there like “TF??”

He rolls his eyes. “YN, you actually…” he locks his gaze on the floor. “You actually… like that stuff?”

You giggle and it pisses him off even more. “WHAT?!”

“Oh c’mon, Katsuki, you don’t think the two characters would even be a little cute together?”

…

“Fuck no.”

“Just think about it for a second.” 

He reluctantly does as you ask while you order for the two of you. (You always knew what he liked to eat.)

Bakugou stays unsettlingly silent for the rest of the lunch, tearing away bites of his burger with angry chomps.

It’s peaceful, much like it always is around you. Sometimes he likes that about y-

“OH MY GOD IT’S BAKUGOU KATSUKI AND YLN YN!” 

“I KNEW THEY WERE TOGETHER!” 

Bakugou almost flips out on the fans and their comments, so you quickly autograph whatever they threw on the table before ushering them away. 

You paid the bill and snatched up Bakugou’s hand, dragging him out of the restaurant before he could yeet a table or two. 

Days pass after you and Bakugou’s “date.” The pictures of you two at the restaurant spread like wildfire, but that’s not what peeved off Bakugou. 

No, it wasn’t that. 

It was the fanfiction he had found. 

People had not only written highly sensual acts between the two of your characters, but also between you two as real people. 

It was like people had no sense of privacy!

He almost couldn’t face you the next day after reading all of that. 

Oh yeah, he umm… he kinda read it. ONLY TO SEE HOW FUCKED UP PEOPLE WERE THOUGH!

You saw right through him. He had dodged your every move until finally it was time to film a scene together. 

You didn’t hesitate to grab his face and force it to look at you. 

“Katsuki. What’s wrong?” 

“... I read the stuff.”

Fuck.

You shake your head. “I told you not to read that shit. It’ll just flip you out even more.”

“I know but,” he glances around before pulling you to a more secluded area of the set, “how did they know about us?” 

You giggle and cup his cheek. “They don’t. That’s just what people do.” 

He doesn’t exactly buy it, but he accepts your kiss anyway. “So,” he pulls away, leaning his forehead against yours, “we’re still on at my place tonight, right?”

“Yep.” 

(No one could know you two were together yet. He just wasn’t ready to see more “shipping” shit than he had already seen. You knew that. But that didn’t stop you from writing the fanfictions.)

Todoroki Shouto:

The “they’re brother and sister on the show but fans are perverts” trope. 

Honestly, you were both disgusted at the idea. 

You hung out all the time with the other cast members and only heard of it when someone brought it up.

“WHAT?!”

Yeah, you were human, and you both thought it was a little nasty. 

“Yeah,” Kaminari nods with a grimace, “apparently it’s only because you two look nothing alike though.” 

“Still,” your nose wrinkles, “that’s just wrong.” Todoroki nods beside you. 

“Well, people are weird. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You two were both frazzled by the news, barely able to look at each other without even thinking about it. 

The next day, you two had a scene where you had to hug and kiss each other’s cheeks. Not an unusual act between your two characters, but now it was fucking awkward. 

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Bakugou glared after the director finally said “Cut!” after enough failed scenes. 

“We just found out our characters are being shipped.” 

It wasn’t really what you said that made Bakugou cackle like an evil witch, it was the way you both said it. 

Your eyes were both wide with horror and you couldn’t even stand to make any contact with each other. 

“You two are fucking idiots!” Bakugou screeched, wiping a tear from his eye. “Get over it! Our fans are fucking crazy, and I’m suprised you haven’t noticed that after one too many hotel room break-ins.”

The blond’s words took a while to sink in, and it wasn’t until you were both sitting next to each other on the backstage couch that you finally glanced at each other. 

“So…” 

“So…” 

…

Ugh, you couldn’t stand it anymore!

“Shouto, are things gonna be weird between us now?”

The thought almost hurt. 

Todoroki’s eyes widened as your own darted over his scarred face frantically. 

“No!” He grabs your hands and holds them in his. “... Well… maybe. I don’t know.”

You two had always liked each other. Perhaps a little more than friends. But playing brother and sister while having a relationship was never a good idea. 

A few days passed and you two decided to take a little break from each other. (You had hoped to get over your feelings so you could go back to acting like brother and sister like normal.)

Then you got the scripts for next week’s episode. 

“I’m adopted?” 

The next day, you and Todoroki could finally stand to be in each other’s presence. 

“So….”

“So….”

…

Oh fuck- AGAIN?!

Nope. You weren’t gonna let that happen. 

You threw your hands around his neck and shoved him towards you, pressing his lips against yours. 

Todoroki instantly threw his arms around your back, pressing you closer as he smiled into the passionate kiss.

Kaminari sighed in relief before slipping back behind the wall as you two pulled away from each other. 

“They’re good.”

The rest of the cast let out relaxed breaths while Bakugou rolled his eyes. 

“Why the fuck did you tell them that, dumbass?”

“I don’t know, I thought it would be funny!” 

“Well then I guess you’re just a SHIT COMEDIAN!”

Yeah, it was just one fanfiction about you two as siblings. 

TO BE FAIR… Kaminari only wrote it because he was shitfaced.

Kirishima Eijirou:

The “she was just supposed to be a side character but the fans fell in love with her and started shipping them” trope.

Yeah, you weren’t supposed to last long. 

Kirishima was the main character, a hero, and you were just supposed to be a temporary damsel in distress.

Oops.

Evidently they made your character a little too cute, a little too funny, a little to perfect. 

You were in for about half a season, and in that time, everybody loved you and Kirishima together.

You two had great chemistry on and off the screen. 

Nothing beats that. 

Except for when the writers killed off your character. 

While it ended with a kiss, you apparently died saving Kirishima’s life as one final thanks for him saving yours in your debut. 

The kiss opened both of your eyes and you knew you couldn’t lose contact with each other. 

Initially, his show only lost a few viewers after you were cut. 

But then it dropped by the thousands when fans spotted you two on a date, smiling happily like no one was around. 

Ahh, the power of persuasion.

People were boycotting his show left and right, claiming that they “split you two up wrongfully.” 

Shit went awry.

Everyone panicked. 

Apparently one major funder had a daughter who had a cousin who had a friend who had a dog that loved you two or something.

Idfk

Either way, the writers and directors whipped up some magical mumbo jumbo to revive your character, and the response was instant. 

After some half-assed funeral scene, they had you dig yourself out of the ground like some zombie, claiming that you were of the same superpowered race as Kirishima. 

The ship lived on, and your characters survived multiple seasons enough to make little superpowered babies.

“Man, I can’t believe the fans went so nuts like that. Who knew a little side character death would cause such an uproar.”

Kirishima nodded along with you, allowing a soft smile to grow on his face as he pounced, licking some stray ice cream off your lips before capturing them in a kiss. 

“Mmm,” his hand reached up to hold you in place against him. He only pulled away to press his forehead against yours with a toothy grin. “I have a little secret to confess.”

“Like what?” Your eyes were still closed in bliss as you licked your lips, reveling in the taste of him. 

He turned your head to the side and cupped a hand around your ear, whispering his pretty little secret. Your eyes flashed open in surprise and you pushed away from him to see his face.

You needed to know if he was serious. 

“YOU WERE THE ANONYMOUS ACCOUNT WHO STARTED THIS?!”

Kirishima nods shyly, holding and squeezing your hand in his lap. 

“I just couldn’t let you go. I wanted to keep seeing you.”

God, he was such a babe.

“Fuck Eijirou,” a grin grows on your face and you brush your lips against his, letting out a giggle. “I love you so much.”

You feel his smile grow into a proud beam against your lips. “I love you too.”

Can you do Shoto, Bakugou, Tokoyami, Tomura and Dabi learning their s/o was born with a heart condition but it doesn't stop them from fighting (eg. I was born with an irregular heartbeat so I'm stuck with it for life and I always have to let the doctors know say I was to need to be asleep for something a special doctor 100% has to be in the room to make sure I don't die even if the work is something small and simple)

S/O Born with a Heart Condition (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: This is my first attempt at headcanons, so they might be too small or too large (or too shitty), idk (I also haven’t watched bnha long enough to meet Dabi’s character so :/). Thank you so much for the request, and I truly hope you like it! I tried to make it as accurate as possible to what I could find online, so I hope it works for you. Enjoy!

Word count: 1494

Todoroki Shouto:

If Todoroki wasn’t attached before, he sure is now. 

This man doesn’t hesitate to cater to your every need, and always supports you when you want to do something out of your comfort zone. 

That doesn’t mean he ever leaves your side for more than 20 minutes at a time, though. 

He’s grown attached to you in a way he never thought he could, and hates to see you do something dangerous without his or a doctor’s supervision. 

If you want to work out or something, he’s hesitant at first, but allows you to do so with his constant warnings not to hurt yourself and take it easy. 

He’s always willing to cuddle and comfort you if your chest begins to hurt, and slowly spoons you while massaging your stomach. (His warm hand is a dream.)

You’re still growing used to having doctors watch you almost 24/7, and when you confess this to Todoroki, he hugs you tightly and whispers that he will only stay by your side when you feel up to it.

Of course you feel up to it. This man may have part-cold powers, but he’s still hot as hell. 

You always feel more comfortable with him in the room, and Todoroki is always glad to be around you, taking as much comfort in your presence as you do with him. 

Bakugou Katsuki: 

When Bakugou learned you had a heart condition, he wouldn’t let anyone near you, treating you like a glass doll. (He barely keeps it together when your doctors come around.)

Every time one of his friends would get a little too close, he would start to growl.

If someone bumped into you in the halls, you best believe he blows up on their ass, even if it’s one of his closest friends.

“WHAT WAS YOUR DUMBASS THINKING RUNNING INTO HER LIKE THAT?! I’M GONNA EXPLODE YOUR ASS INTO THE NEXT CENTURY!”

Ten more minutes pass of him screaming at that person, and at some point you have to poke him in the side to get his attention. After that, he goes Mama bear mode.

Yes, even Bakugou has that setting.

He grabs your shoulders with concern written all over his face. “What? Are you okay? Do you need a doctor or something? SOMEONE CALL THE NURS-”

You gotta smack him across the forehead just to get him to shut up. (It resets his brain a lil bit.)

Overall, even though his friends tease him about it, he’s still fiercely protective over you, and no one aside from him is allowed in your ten-foot radius personal bubble. 

You hated how he treated you like a baby, always grabbing your arms to stop them before he snatched the item off the top shelf for you, or any other acts that he does for you that piss you off so much.

Like a pit bull on a leash, he barked and snapped at anyone you passed on the street as his hand gripped your own tightly. 

He was your little guard dog, your furious, explosive protector, and although you often argued about how you could handle yourself, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Tokoyami Fumikage:

You already know this man perches in the corner of your room at night. 

Although he trusts your doctors, he still wants to make sure you’re okay while you sleep. 

There’s a desk in the corner of your room, and he just squats down on top of it like nobody’s business, keeping a watchful eye on your every move. 

The first time he did it, it kinda freaked you out.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You look like Batman-”

“Go to sleep.”

From then on, you let him just watch as you slept, used to having eyes on you as you do. 

Occasionally, Dark Shadow creeps out in your dim bedroom and pets your hair gently, with constant warning from Tokoyami to be careful around you. 

As your relationship grew stronger, you would find him sitting closer and closer to you every night. 

(He scared the shit out of you one day when you awoke to find him crouched on your nightstand.)

Then, one night you stirred to him cuddling you in your sleep. You asked him what he was doing once again.

“I keep watch much better from this vantage point.”

You always ran a hand through his feathers while Dark Shadow’s presence slowly curled around you, and rarely found yourself falling asleep just as easy without him after a certain point. 

Tokoyami watches you like a hawk, and always keeps you on your pills if you take them. He’s a dutiful boyfriend, who never hesitates in making you feel comfortable and loved, day or night. 

Shigaraki Tomura: 

HAND MAN, HAND MAN

Let’s be honest here. We’re talking about a villain. We all know this mf kidnapped you. 

He fell for you first, of course, and was initially confused by your constant doctor companions. He just didn’t like how close they got to be around you, when he had to stay so far away.

He overheard your condition, and by then he had loved you too much to let you suffer, so he snatched up a doctor to take care of you in the villain’s lair as well. 

After a year of patiently waiting, he finally wore you down enough to have you love him. 

By then, he didn’t even have to request you stay in his line of sight at all times. You did so willingly. 

Whenever you wanted to go outside and go shopping or whatnot, he always held your hand to do so. With your doctor near of course.

He just couldn’t risk losing you, no matter how much you whined that you would be fine. 

He’s just as hesitant to cuddle or touch you, but still craves hugs from time to time. Nighttime snuggles are a rare occurrence.

When they do happen, he’s a bit bitter they can’t lead on farther thanks to the unwanted audience in the room.

He definitely lays his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

“Still tickin’!”

In the end, Shigaraki embraces your condition with stride, and does everything in his power to make sure you’re safe and alive.... In his home…. And in his bed ;)

Dabi: 

When Dabi learns you have a heart condition, he becomes ten times more alert around you. 

If you stub your toe, he’s by your side in an instant, shouting about how you have to be careful.

If you bake a cake, he watches over your shoulder to make sure you don’t hurt yourself with any kitchen utensils used. You know, like a whisk.

“What if your finger gets caught and you panic and die on me?!”

Fight me on this, but blue fire boy’s attitude would flip a 180. 

Out of all these guys, he’s the one who’s gonna watch over you the most, acting like a self-taught doctor. 

You can’t do anything without his approval. 

One time he came home to you accidentally taking a nap on the couch. 

… *sigh*

Yeah. Dabi flipped his shit. 

“DON’T YOU DARE LEAVE MY SIGHT EVER AGAIN YN!”

“I was just-”

“NO!”

You’re the only love in his life, and he doesn’t know what he would do if he lost you. 

(Two words. Fire. Rampage.)

Just… be careful. Dabi is the last guy you want to piss off. Of course, he could never be truly mad at you, but you sure know how to push his buttons. 

He, um, he typed up a list of things you could do without his supervision. 

It’s two bullet points long.

1. Go to the bathroom.

2. That’s it.

Dabi can’t remember a time he was as attached to someone as he is to you, so when you throw your fits about wanting to do something on your own, he listens just about as well as a student in an online class. 

“Mhm, sure.”

He just doesn’t wanna lose you, so from now on, try to stay away from doing just about anything until he’s around to witness it. 

aSiDe FrOm gOiNg tO tHe bAtHrOoM oF cOuRsE

Operation Breakup Backfires (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: What’s the harm of a little breakup prank? It doesn’t even work anyway….

A/N: There’s no shortage of Bakugou ideas in my brain, I swear. Also, this might be the first of a little prank “series” I’ll be writing for multiple characters, idk. It just depends if I get more ideas. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1236

       “I’m gonna do it.” You knew it was mean, but you really wanted to see how your explosive blondie would react. 

       “Okay, yeah that’s great,” Kirishima says, “but you know he’s gonna spontaneously combust, right?” You click your tongue. 

       “Oh c’mon, it won’t be that bad.” Crossing your arms, you relax deeper into your assigned seat while Kirishima shakes his head frantically, his palms slamming against the surface of your desk.

       “You’ve met Bakugou, right?” 

       “Yes, I’ve met my own boyfriend,” you scoff, jaw twitching. 

       “Then you know how stupid of an idea this is. The Baku-beast is gonna come out of hibernation if you do this!” Was it ever in hibernation? You shake the thought away and wave your hand dismissively. 

       “I won’t let it go that far, I promise.” Kirishima raises his brows at you.  

       “I don’t believe you. This is gonna be a nightmare,” he mutters with wide, anxious eyes. 

       “He’s not gonna hurt me!” The redhead nods. 

       “Oh, I know that. What’ll happen is he’ll take it out on the rest of us and it’ll be a bloodbath!” He nervously rubs the back of his neck while mumbling, “My throat never looks good post-Baku-strangle.” The phrase mystifies you.

       “Ok. First of all, you have a name for that?” You shake your head, baffled. “Second of all, quit being a wuss.” He grows offended at your words, holding a hand to his chest. 

       “I’m not being a wuss, I’m being logical,” he corrects you with a confident head nod. You roll your eyes at the act. Ever so discreetly, you cough out a loud “Wuss!” while mockingly covering your mouth. Kirishima hurls a withering glare at you. 

       “I am not-”

       “Shush!” You cover your lips with a finger and nod your head towards Bakugou stepping through the doorway. The redhead huffs out a breath and walks away. 

       “Mum’s the word!” you call after him.

                               ###

       The common room is empty aside from you, waiting anxiously in a chair for your boyfriend. You had texted him that you wanted to talk after school, and got a “K” in response. It was enough for you. The doors behind your chair slam open loudly and you take a deep breath before popping up and taking on a solemn face. 

       “What did you want to talk about?” Bakugou asks with pursed lips. His tone is sharp and impatient, but you’ve never heard it any differently. Sighing, you slowly approach him and bite your bottom lip, softening your eyes. 

       “I want to break up.” 

       Silence.

       Bakugou’s face doesn’t change. Not a single twitch in his body, or a widening of his eyes. He seems… unaffected.

       “No.” 

       No? No?! He just rejected your breakup, tackled it and slammed it down like a pro-wrestler before suffocating it with a pillow using one word. ‘No.’

       “Katsuki,” you lick your lips and he tenses at the action, “I just don’t think we’re working out-”

       “We exercise all the time, YN, I think we’re fine.” His voice is rough and guttural, and you notice his hands curling into fists. 

       “You know that’s not what I meant.” You drag your gaze back up to his face, giving him a pleading look and desperately trying to sell your prank.

       “I don’t care,” his jaw clenches and he narrows his vermilion eyes at you, “we’re fine.” The hiss makes you flinch as he stares you down threateningly. Oh shit, he’s fucking scary. 

       You were conflicted; you wanted to be agitated at the fact that he wouldn’t let you break up with him, even though you didn’t really want to end things with him, but you were also touched at the way he wasn’t willing to let you go. However, when his feet stomp loudly against the floor as he approaches you with dilated pupils, fear takes the lead in the race of your emotions. You stumble back at his sudden advancement.

       “Yeah, no, you’re totally right,” you hurriedly agree with him, nodding your head frantically, “I’m good, you’re good, it’s all good.” You give him finger guns and a cheesy smile but his expression never changes. You want to crawl into a hole and die just to avoid his intimidating gaze. 

       “So, um, I’m gonna go to my room now.” 

       “Okay.” With his approval of your release, you hightail it down the hall, barging into your dorm and slamming the door behind you before deflating against it. Hands pressed against your flushed cheeks, you trudge into the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. 

       “What the fuck was that?” you whisper to your reflection. It doesn’t respond, thankfully. The faucet pours cold water that you splash onto your burning face. The beating in your chest is racing so fast it hurts, and you press a hand harshly against it, feeling the swift buh-bumps under your fingertips. That, what had just happened down there, was indeed a failed prank. And now you knew for a fact you were stuck with him. It’s not like you minded that but shit, he was scary! Nope. Never again. No more pranks on Bakugou. 

                              ###

       That night, as you lie in bed beside him, he slowly rolls over to face you, gently dropping an arm over your waist. 

       “Did you really mean it?” he whispers. The room is too dark to spot any emotions on his face, but his words are hesitant. Gulping loudly, you rest a hand on his cheek and throw a leg over his hips. 

       “No, it was just supposed to be a dumb prank.” At your confession, he purses his lips and you start to trace random patterns on his face to ignore your growing blush, ashamed at your actions. 

       “You could’ve just dumped water on me or something,” he gruffly responds, hand pressing into the skin of your back firmly. 

       “Y-yeah, maybe I’ll try that next time.” You look away with a nod and clear your throat. 

       “Just,” he continued, eyes intently focused on the wall to avoid your gaze as well, “don’t ever do that again. I don’t think I could handle it.” Bakugou leans his head into your touch but doesn’t say another word. 

       If you didn’t know any better, or perhaps if you didn’t love him, you would have smirked or snickered, or maybe even pointed out how abnormally gentle he was in that moment. But you weren’t cruel, and you didn’t want to lose the warmth by your side at night. Or the grip around your body during the day. Or his comforting presence every living moment. He was it for you, and you seemed to be it for him. 

       A smile grows on your face at this realization and you run your thumb over his cheek adoringly. The corner of his mouth twitches before you press a kiss against his lips and tuck your face into his chest. 

       “I won’t leave you. Ever.” He smiles into your hair.

        “Good, ‘cause I’m not letting you go.” 

       Yeah, your prank kind of backfired. But hearing him say that made it all worth it.

One Sorry Idiot in a Tree (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After Bakugou saw you “flirt” with Kirishima, he wasn’t very happy with you. Gee, I wonder what you could do to make him forgive you. On a completely unrelated note, did you know there was a tree outside his window?

A/N: Just some more writer’s block killin’, don’t mind me. Got this idea from @otpdisaster​ with this prompt. Hope you like it!

Word count: 2305

        It began with small pebbles.

       Dink.

       Dink.

       After twenty minutes of that, you ran out of rocks. Now, you scaled the tree next to the dormitory building of Class 1-A like Rapunzel’s prince, prepared to get Bakugou’s attention by any means necessary. A branch, not exactly sturdy-looking, but enough, extended out perfectly to your boyfriend’s window. Before you tapped on it, you grimaced at the sight of the small cracks you had left in the glass from rock-throwing. 

       Oops.

       The night was cold but the full moon provided enough light for you to koala-climb your way across the tree branch to his window, hanging on for dear life whenever it swayed in the wind. The bark made indents in your hands from you gripping it like no tomorrow, but you were desperate to speak with him. Finally, you made across enough to reach out with one trembling arm. 

       Tap tap.

       “Why did he have to live on the fourth floor?” you mutter to yourself shakily, knocking on the glass once more before pulling back and clinging to the tree as evil winds from Satan himself tried to blow you up and away. So… guess I have a fear of heights now.

       At last, the curtains covering Bakugou’s window were ripped away as the blond glared out into the night, only for his eyes to widen in surprise.

       “YN?!” he exclaimed. Or at least you think he did. The thickness of the building muffled his words, so it was actually more like “Mphfmpfhmlpfhf?” He was now enraged and shouting at you through the pane, eyes glaring furiously in true Bakugou fashion. He was about ready to throw hands, approaching your form with heavy stomps you could hear from all the way outside, but he… you know, couldn’t reach you. 

       Throughout this whole fiasco, you were chuckling under your breath while watching him like a wild gorilla in a zoo enclosure. Then suddenly, Bakugou’s expression saddened and he withdrew from the window, sitting on his bed and just staring at you with arms hanging motionlessly at his side. You figured he was bummed he couldn’t beat the shit out of you when you were swaying back and forth on a forty-foot tree. You puffed a warm breath on the glass and reached out with a trembling hand, shakily writing “r u ok?” backwards. 

       Bakugou’s brows furrowed as he read the note (you wrote the “k” wrong) before scoffing and hissing words at you. Either he hadn’t figured out you couldn’t hear him, or this was his last push for you to learn how to read lips. Either way, you were over it. You shook your head and pointed to your ear, only to scream in fright when you lost balance and almost dropped to your chilly, forty-foot death. Bakugou jumped up from his bed and sprinted toward you, his palms slamming against the glass barrier while he shouted your name in a panic. 

       You, on the other hand, prayed to every god above and under the sun while you swung back and forth, hanging upside down and hugging the tree branch tightly to your chest.

       “Oh, son of a bitch, thank God!” you laugh in relief before wiggling yourself upright on the thin, outstretched bark. Bakugou’s forehead slapped against the window as he sighed thankfully, his breath causing the pane to fog. He caught sight of this and wrote you a message with a clenched jaw. 

       “R u ok???” In his haste, he had forgotten to write it backwards, and you giggled at the sight before nodding. He narrows his eyes at you and flips you off. You laugh and do the same while straddling the tree branch, clouds streaming from your mouth every time you breathe with the chilly temperatures. 

       “Goddamnit it’s freezing out here,” you mumble, teeth chattering. Normally, you would hug yourself and rub your arms up and down to gather warmth, but right now… no. Never. Yes, you were the idiot who climbed a tree to ask her boyfriend for forgiveness, but you weren’t the idiot who died falling out of a tree after climbing it to ask for forgiveness. Stupidity was your style, but dying stupidly was just pitiful. 

       Ever so slowly, you scooched your way down the branch, holding in a breath as it dipped with your weight while you reached out to write another message. “I’m sorry.”

       The blond read the note while a muscle in his jaw twitched. His arms hung limply at his side once more, but his hands still curled into fists at the words. With glowing, scarlet eyes, he snarled at you and plumped down into his spinny desk chair, fingers gripping the arm rests tightly.

       “At least he didn’t close the blinds yet.” Your chest fills with hope and you smile gently, wiping away the old message and drawing a new one.

       “I didn’t mean to piss you off.” 

       Your brain hurt from the amount of effort you had to put into writing that whole spiel backwards, but he was worth it. Your fingers turning blue? Yeah, that was kind of a problem. You blow hot air on the one hand before transferring and blowing on the other, watching and waiting for Bakugou’s reaction as you do. 

       His eyes run over the note once, then twice, then one more time until you realize he’s actually watching your form and rolling his eyes. Still, the blinds remain open, and you whisper a “Yes!” Extending your arm once again, you write another message. 

       “I love u.” You sketch a heart along with it, although it looks more like a fat, seated camel thanks to your trembling hands. 

       The message, however, still pleases the furious boyfriend, and you’d like to think he had whipped out his phone and taken pictures of you to remind himself on a terrible day that you loved him dearly. You know, rather than the less desirable, more realistic theory that he was going to blackmail you with it later and present it to his friends.

       “Oh, fuck you, dickhead!” you shout at the window, shaking a middle finger at him as emphatically as you can. Shit, why aren’t there any other physical gestures of hatred? My finger’s getting cold. It was getting more of a work-out than the rest of your hands, so you supposed you couldn’t complain too much. With Bakugou as your boyfriend, you were surprised your middle fingers didn’t have six-packs by now.

       Ooh, speaking of six-packs.

       The blond cackled in his room while reclaiming his seat, the motion causing his shirt to fly up slightly and reveal- Jesus fuck. Who gave him permission to have that?

       Shaking away the distraction, you give him a sarcastic smile and laugh before writing one last time. 

       “Ok, so do u forgive me?”

       You lean back and huff, waiting for his response while he assesses the message. At last, he purses his lips and rises slowly from the chair. The light glowing from his room pushed away the darkness around you enough for you to inspect your bluing fingers while you waited for a response. 

        Inside the warm, toasty building, Bakugou scoffed at your trembling form. That didn’t stop the fond smile from growing on his face, but maybe, just maybe you deserved it this round. Ah, fuck it. His eyes glinted when he came up with the perfect message.

       “Yes, I love u too.” 

       However, halfway through drawing this on the slightly-chilled glass that froze his precious fingertips, your form disappeared from his peripheral vision. 

       What.

       Bakugou’s face turned into pure panic when he spotted the cracked, jagged edges of a broken tree branch in your place. 

       “Oh shit! YN!” 

       Your boyfriend charged down the stairwell, loud curses trailing behind him in echoes as he busted ass down the steps. At last, the door was in sight as he blasted through it and out into the dark night, setting off the occasional explosion to light up his surroundings. Then he spotted your form, silent and unmoving next to a broken tree branch. 

       “YN!” the blond roared, sprinting towards you at break-neck speed and dropping on his knees next to you. Your eyes were shut and your lips were barely open, releasing small puffs of air every few seconds. Still, you didn’t make a sound, even when Bakugou patted you anxiously on the cheek. 

       “YN wake up, I swear to God.” You didn’t respond. He fell back on his knees and reached up to his scalp, hands digging in and yanking on the strands frustratedly.

       “Fuck, YN, please!” 

       Nothing. Tears pricked his eyes.

       “Come on! I forgive you, just please come back!” Your eyes peeled open at that and you let out a snort. 

       “Seriously, I have to fall out of a tree to get you to forgive me? You’re kind of a dic- foof.” Any air in your lungs was forced out as Bakugou snatched up your cold body and held you close, squeezing you tighter and tighter with every passing second. It was warm at first, so you relaxed into it, but then it started to feel like a strangling.

       “O-kay,” you choked out, patting his back, “I yield, I yield.” He held you impossibly closer just one more second and your eyes almost bulged out of your head before he leaned away, glaring at you with damp cheeks. 

       “Don’t ever do that again.” 

       “Do what? Flirt with Kirishima or fall out of a tree?”

       “Both.” He avoided your tender gaze and tensed up when your hands palmed his cheeks, wiping away any and all stray tears. 

       “Okay,” you whispered. “I promise.” 

       “Good.” He pushed away your grasp and rose up off the ground, glaring at his feet while holding out a hand. “Now come on. Your hands are fucking icicles.”

       You scoff. “Yeah, no thanks to you, dipwad.” Nonetheless, you accept his offer and stand up, cringing at his white-knuckled grip on your hand while he leads you into the dorm building. 

       “I didn’t ask you to scale a fucking tree to beg for forgiveness,” he grumbles.

       “I didn’t ask you to get all jealous and mopey after I asked Kirishima for a pencil!” you counter.

       “You didn’t ask for a pencil, you asked for his wood!” You can’t help but snicker at the memory.

       “Hehe, yeah. You should’ve seen how red his face got, too! Especially when I reached over and stole it.” You smack your knee while wheezing with laughter. “He looked so fucking scared!” 

       “It’s not that funny.” Bakugou shook his head and rolled his eyes. Your hands were so concerningly blue that all he could focus on was leading you back to his room.

       “-and his face was all like, ‘Oh shit!’” Your amused howls echoed throughout the dorm halls before stopping suddenly as the smile dropped off your instantly serious face. “I think the cold is getting to me.”

       “Yeah, no shit,” Bakugou grumbles, kicking open his door and slamming it shut after tugging you inside. “Strip.”

       “Excuse me?”

       “You’re excused. Now strip.” Your brows furrowed and you smacked his chest lightly. 

       “Listen up, pervert. I’m not stripping for you or anyone el- O-okay.” Mid-sentence, Bakugou had whipped out his trump card on you. Now, he stood shirtless and pantless in the middle of his room, giving you an expectant look. My man is hella ripped. You gulped while eye-fucking him. You wished there was no eye.

       “Who’s the pervert now?” he smirked, taking a seat on the far end of the bed so his back faced you. “There, I’m not looking. Now strip.” 

       To be fair, you knew there was some logic to his words. There was something about having to be completely nude, or at least in drier clothes, when someone was trying to fend off hypothermia. You didn’t care to think too much about it. Right now, your herculean boyfriend was demanding you to hop into bed (partially) naked with him. You weren’t always stupid. 

       After tossing your clothes into his laundry basket near the door, you slipped under the covers and poked him in his sturdy back. Are back muscles a kink? Shit, those temperatures out there had really messed with your head. Or maybe it was the fall? He got the message and joined you under the blankets, his arms instinctively wrapping around your frozen waist and pulling you close. You sigh and nuzzle into his warm chest, relaxing easily thanks to his body heat. Finally having a moment of clarity, you decided to apologize. 

       “I really am sorry for pissing you off like that.” You stared deeply into his eyes while nervously picking at the bedsheets. 

       “It’s okay.” 

       “It was pretty romantic when I climbed that tree for you, though, wasn’t it?” Bakugou sighed and tugged you closer by your cold hips. 

       “Yes, yes it was-”

       “I knew it!” you shouted, wiggling next to him in bed with victory. 

       “Shut up over there!” Kirishima shouted from next door. Your eyes widened with shame.

       “Sorry!” you shouted back before groaning and running your hands down your warmed face, peeking out from in between fingers when Bakugou released a small chuckle. The noise was deep and melodic, and you were addicted to it the instant you heard it.

       Yes, you were an idiot. And you would gladly stay one if you got to end every day with that laugh in your ears. 

       You were his idiot.

Nail Polish and Peer Pressure (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You just wanted to paint your nails in his room, but Bakugou always had to throw a hissy fit. No matter; revenge can take many forms. 

A/N: Google searched “asshole synonyms” for this. I ain’t sorry. Not my best work, but I really wanted to write something, so please enjoy!

Word count: 1220

        “Hey, YN, thanks for the badass nail polish. It’s super manly!”

       “Of course Kirishima!”

       That ticked him off. Even his best friend had gotten his nails painted by you. The whole class was now writing, tapping, and gesturing with their painted nails however they could, and it was all thanks to your seemingly endless supply of that toxic shit. Bakugou was sick of it. 

       It all began a couple days ago, when the blond and you were hanging out in his own room.

                               ###

       “What the hell is that smell?” Your boyfriend sniffed the air with distaste, looking over from the computer he had been playing on. There you were, sitting on his bed with a bottle of polish precariously balanced on one thigh. The other leg was a makeshift surface on which you painted your nails maroon. 

       “Seriously?”

       “Seriously what?” you asked obliviously.

       “Get that nasty shit off my bed before you spill it!” he demanded, spinning around in his chair to face you. He glared at the bottle you innocently gestured at him.

       “What, this? You’re really that scared I’m gonna ruin your precious sheets with a little nail polish? C’mon Katsuki, I’m not that clumsy.” He scoffs at your obvious lie and raises a brow at you. You purse your lips and roll your eyes, giving in. “All right fine, you’re right! But I’ll be careful, I swear.” Following your plea, you throw out your best weapon imaginable: puppy dog eyes. 

       It was ineffective.

       “No, now close that shit before the stench becomes permanent.” He turns back to his computer without another word and returns to his game. 

       “Fine,” you stand up and walk over to his door, awkwardly trying to open with your elbows since your fingers weren’t exactly dry yet. “Then I’ll go do this elsewhere.”

       “Fine.”

                               ###

       Since then, you’ve been painting everyone in the class’s nails, even the guys. Just three days ago he had walked in on you adorning Deku’s hands with emerald green in the common area. Jealousy was his initial reaction, as all he could see was the small twerp’s hands near your lap as you giggled. Then it got worse to see his fingers resting on your thighs while you chatted and laughed together. 

       “YN!” Bakugou had shouted at you. You glanced up with wide eyes from your task, then recognized the look in your boyfriend’s eyes.

       “Oh calm down, Katsuki. It’s not like you were gonna let me paint your nails.” Bakugou almost exploded at your tone. “Besides, Izuku was just wondering what all the fuss was about. There’s nothing wrong with wanting pretty nails.” Those words combined with the fact that you had called that loser by his name pushed the blond over the edge. He was slowly being driven insane.

                               ###

       “Hey YN, some girls at the mall yesterday totally complimented my nails. Thanks again!” the bubbly gravity girl spouted. Bakugou’s arm tightened around your shoulder at the praise, and he snarled at the sight of disembodied hot pink nails floating into the classroom. 

       “I absolutely adore the sparkles you gave me, YN. You’re a goddess!” Aoyama praised next, twirling around and waving his hands in front of yours and Bakugou’s faces before dramatically falling into his seat. This was ridiculous. 

       Everyone, and he meant everyone in the classroom except for him had painted nails of all colors. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” the miserable future hero muttered as he watched Todoroki pass with red and white nails. “I’m gonna hurl.”

       He missed the smug smirk that grew on your face, and you swiftly kiss him on the cheek before separating and returning to your own desk just as the bell rang. 

       It was only a matter of time.

                               ###

       Deku stood over the bruised and beaten blond, shoving his painted hands in front of his face while laughing victoriously. “Well, well, well, looks like I finally beat you, Kacchan,” the green-haired boy boasted. Bakugou only groaned in pain on the hard asphalt of the street, unable to move as the bruises began to darken. 

       “I guess you could say it was all thanks to these,” he continued, flashing his emerald nails near Bakugou’s two black eyes. “Tell YN I’m grateful-”

       Bakugou sprang up from his bed in a cold sweat, gasping and feeling his body for any bruises, only to come up clean. “It was all a nightmare,” he groaned, ducking his head miserably into his hands. “This is fucking stupid.” And yet, why did he want to go to your room now? The pupil-burning red digits of his alarm clock told him it was too late; it was midnight. But he didn’t care. If Bakugou had one more stupid nightmare over fucking nail polish, he was going to lose it. 

                               ###

       “YN!” Who the hell? “YN, open up! Open the goddamn door, YN!” Your boyfriend. Of course. Checking your phone, you moaned at the time while slumping off your bed and onto the floor, worming your way to the entrance an enraged blond currently stood behind. 

       “Did you bring me food?” 

       “What? No-”

       “A stuffed animal?”

       “No! I-”

       “Then why in the goddamn fuck are you here at-” you whip open your door and glare into his crimson eyes, “the asscrack of dawn?” Your menacing whisper was challenged with a raised brow.

       “It’s only twelve.”

       “It’s only bedtime,” you mocked with a sneer. “What do you need?”

       “You need to paint my nails.” Oh, oh this was good. Who needed prank TV shows when you could have all this? You disguised your victorious expression by dropping your head and groaning dramatically. Sweet, sweet revenge was near, and you could almost taste that salty bitch. 

       “Fineeee. But wash your hands first.” He tried to object, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I’m not painting over your crusty-ass sleep nails.” 

       “The fuck are ‘sleep nails’?” your blondy grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless made his way over to your bathroom. Trembling excitedly after watching him walk away, you swiftly texted the class group chat you had made a week ago with great news. 

You: U guys can remove ur nail polish now. Bakugou finally gave in ;)

Kaminari: Thank GODDD, I’m done with this yellow crap on my fingers

Kirishima: Me too, but at least we’ll finally get to see Bakugou with girly nails

Mina: Man, I’m gonna miss my pink sparkles!!

You: It’ll be worth it, trust me

       You set your phone down just as Bakugou turned off the lights in your bathroom, but the buzzing of notifications continued. 

       “What asshole is texting you at midnight?”

       “Probably the same kind of knucklehead that would yell at me through my door at midnight.”

       He scoffs before flopping down onto your bed beside you. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

       “Wonderful.” Your eyes twinkle wickedly as you open your nightstand drawer, displaying a wide array of nail polishes even a rainbow would be jealous of. “So what color were you thinking?”