Bakugou Katsuki, Who Absentmindedly Starts Touching You At Random.

you’re going to cry. you swear, you’re going to lose your mind right here in the middle of class because this stupid problem refuses to make sense no matter how hard you try.

your pencil is shaking in your grip, and you can feel your breathing getting uneven. you’re on the verge of either breaking down or blacking out, maybe both.

so, against your better judgment, you turn to katsuki bakugo.

“bakugo,” you whisper, tapping his arm. he scowls, glancing at you with that usual irritation in his eyes, but when he sees the desperation on your face, he sighs. “what?”

“help. please.”

he rolls his eyes but takes your paper anyway, muttering something about how he’s “not a damn tutor.” you watch as his sharp eyes scan over your work, and then his gaze pauses, his expression freezing for just a split second.

you don’t notice, too busy fidgeting with your pencil and trying not to let your stress consume you.

but katsuki sees it. the faintest pencil indent next to your name at the top of the page, the remnants of an erased word. his last name.

his crimson eyes flicker to you for a moment. you’re oblivious, chewing on your lip as you wait for his help, completely unaware that he’s just discovered your little daydream scribbles.

his face doesn’t change. not one bit.

calmly, like nothing happened, he picks up his own pencil and rewrites his last name next to yours. then, beneath it, he adds an arrow pointing to the words with a single note.

“soon.”

he hands the paper back to you like nothing happened.

“you were messing up here,” he says, pointing at the mistake, explaining the problem in his usual blunt but effective way. you nod, relieved to finally understand.

it’s only when he turns back to his own work that you notice the little addition to your paper.

your heart stops.

your brain short-circuits.

you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the squeak that escapes, your face burning so hot you’re surprised you haven’t spontaneously combusted.

you steal a glance at katsuki, but he’s acting normal, like he didn’t just casually flip your world upside down.

but you don’t miss the tiny, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

soft spot

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: from the start, Bakugou never liked you. So what would that ever change?

notes: fluff, falling in love, bakugou trying to process emotions, he can't believe he likes you, he's trying so hard to deny it

word count: 3.1k

a/n: I wrote this during my four hour flight with 'soft spot' by keshi on replay.

From the moment Bakugou passed you at the UA entrance exams, he hated you. Not that he had a solid reason. A passing glimpse at your eyes and the snippet of your voice was enough to rub him the wrong way. Something about you grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. It was irrational, and he knew it, but that didn’t matter. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw you were lagging behind him, though he didn't pay much attention. Why would he? You were just some random extra who’d probably wash out before the practical even started.

But when he saw you sitting in 1-A, any sense of relief vanished. You’d made it? Seriously? Bakugou’s disbelief morphed into simmering irritation as he watched you walk in with a confidence that only fueled his annoyance. He was fuming. You were going to be here for the entirety of his education at UA? His jaw clenched at the mere sight of you. Whatever. You were just another obstacle, one he planned to ignore. He only had to focus on becoming the number one hero. No way some nobody was going to distract him from his goal.

Yet life had other ideas. You got close to Mina, which meant you were suddenly hanging around his friends. But it was bad enough that he had to acknowledge your existence at all, let alone exchange the occasional curt greeting. The nail in the coffin was one project. When Aizawa paired the two of you up for a project. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him. Forced to work with you— a dumbass in his eyes— was the last thing he wanted.

And yet, as you both begrudgingly tackled the project, he realised you weren’t just some random annoyance. You were sharp, competent, and had a knack for getting things done without fuss. That revelation grated on him even more. It was only then, against his will, that he began to learn a bit more about you—bits and pieces that chipped away at his initial disdain, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.

Bakugou tried giving you a hard time, tossing insults your way whenever the opportunity arose. But you deflected them naturally, either brushing them off or firing back with witty comebacks that only annoyed him more. Somehow, you always managed to steer the conversation back to neutral ground— back to assignments or studies— like his words didn’t even faze you. Okay so maybe, just maybe, you were pretty decent at handling his crap. But who was he kidding? You were still annoying. Did you think you could figure him out that easily? Not a chance. You were just another obstacle in his way, nothing more.

You’re quite nice aren’t you? He’s seen you around the classroom. Always being nice, offering a smile, and somehow getting along with almost everyone in class. Hell, even some students outside of 1-A seemed to like you. The only exception was Mineta, and honestly, Bakugou couldn’t blame you for that. Nobody could be expected to put up with that creep for long. That grape-head can’t quit being a pervert for one second. But what gives? What was the point of all that friendliness? Not that it mattered to him. Those were your problems, not his. You had to deal with those people and not him. And you better not think for a second that it meant you’d get close to him.

For most of the year, he kept his distance, pretending you were just another face in the crowd. A few begrudging greetings, a handful of exchanged insults—that was the extent of your interactions. You were just some random classmate, nothing he needed to waste his thoughts on. And as the school year dragged to a close, Bakugou found relief in the thought of summer break. At least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to see your face at all. Or anyone for that matter.

After the summer break, everyone returned for their second year, and Bakugou couldn’t help but notice that you had bulked up. You’d clearly been working out— your leaner arms and toned physique were proof of that. It seemed like someone finally decided to stop slacking and hit the gym. Good for you, he thought. But in his mind, you still had a long way to go. You were already behind, and you’d need to push yourself even harder if you wanted to keep up.

It started out by chance. You both happened to hit the gym at the same time, and after a while, simply ignoring each other became impractical. Slowly, you started exchanging advice. Small tips here and there. Eventually, the idea of sparring came up, almost as a challenge neither of you wanted to back down from. Before long, sparring became a regular thing, an unspoken arrangement that had developed between you two.

With you constantly hanging around his friends and the realisation that you weren’t as insufferable as he’d first thought, Bakugou had to admit that the two of you were... alright. It wasn’t a friendship exactly, but it wasn’t hostility either. Maybe you exchanged texts sometimes, usually coordinating meet-ups with others, but eventually, those plans shifted to just the two of you. It was never planned; it just happened. And honestly, you were tolerable.

Somewhere along the line, he let you hang out in his room while he worked on something, your quiet presence oddly comforting in the background. Not that it meant anything, of course. You were just decent company, that’s all. Nothing else.

But you were stupid. How could someone forget to eat? You were smart, sure, but you couldn’t even stick to a basic eating schedule? It was ridiculous. Hopeless. So maybe Bakugou started making extra when he cooked, just in case you hadn’t eaten. It didn’t mean anything. He was just making sure you were functioning like a normal human being. Afterall, you train with him. Begrudgingly, he might admit you’re one of his training partners. He needed you in top shape, not passing out— from all things, not eating— in the middle of a sparring match.

Over time, he’d learned more about you than he ever expected. Your favourite things, your hobbies, your weird habits. Hell, he even knew what you were scared of—and of course, he teased you about it every chance he got. You were used to that by now. But it hadn’t really hit him just how close the two of you had gotten until one night.

He was making dinner, he found himself setting out a second plate without even thinking. He automatically measured out your usual portion: a precise amount of rice with a heap of pickled radish on the side, and you always liked having the— wait. Bakugou paused. Ladle still in hand as he stared down at the plate. When had he started paying this much attention? Has he always paid this much attention to you? When had he gotten so used to accommodating your tastes? That night, he pushed your plate aside with a scowl and grumbled at you to make your own damned plate.

Bakugou would never admit that he liked having you around, but in his own way, he appreciated you. You were sweet in that irritatingly attentive way, always knowing how to handle him and when to leave him alone. You’d become a solid study partner, sharp and focused, and you had this annoying habit of anticipating his needs before he could ask. You’d pass him his towel and water bottle between sets because you knew he’d need both; the sweat never stopped, and he always drank after each break. You’d grab protein snacks for the two of you between workouts, keeping energy levels high without saying a word.

And then there were the little things. You’d go grocery shopping alone and always pick up an extra snack for him. Tossing it into his room unless he gave you the nod to come in. You’d share music you thought he’d like. And usually, you were right. Without trying, you’d quietly woven yourself into his routine, and he’d come to rely on it more than he cared to admit. But he’d never say that out loud— not now, not ever.

Just because the two of you had gotten closer and Bakugou tolerated your presence didn’t mean he stopped insulting you. But by now, you were used to it. If anything, you found it fun to fire back with your own jabs, turning every snarky comment into an opportunity for banter.

When you both went off for the hero exchange, he surprised you by texting more often than he usually did. Not that it was a lot by normal standards, but for Bakugou, it was a significant change. You’d update him on what you were up to, and he’d do the same— short, clipped messages, but they were steady, a constant thread throughout the entire exchange. It might not seem like much to anyone else, but coming from him, it was more than you’d ever expected. You never mentioned it, but you enjoyed those texts. And secretly, though he’d never admit it, he looked forward to yours too.

When third year rolled around, there was a quiet comfort in knowing you’d be alongside him for the final stretch. Upon seeing you on the first day back, Bakugou couldn’t help but ruffle your hair with a playful smirk, teasing you before you even had the chance to greet him properly. It was such a natural, casual gesture that it slipped out. That alone was enough for his friends to catch on.

Bakugou hated the way his friends kept teasing him, constantly poking at how different he acted when you were around. Supposedly you make him different or whatever bullshit they were spewing. Didn’t they have anything better to do than pester him about some nonexistent crush? He scoffed and waved off their comments, rolling his eyes at their baseless claims. There was no truth to any of it. They were just talking out of their asses. The two of you? You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

But lately… have you always been this cute? Bakugou had always found you attractive, sure, but suddenly, it was like you were glowing, and he couldn’t seem to look away. It annoyed him, how his gaze kept drifting toward you. Snapping his attention back to his notes, his pen harshly hits the paper. Angrily scribbling with more force than necessary. He did not like you. No way. Why the hell would he? There wasn’t a chance. What was he even saying? You look normal. Normal, basic looking, cute— he said cute again didn’t he?

It was four in the morning, and sleep was nowhere in sight. He lay there, cursing you under his breath. Why were you stuck in his mind, looping around like a bad song he couldn’t turn off? You were just being an irritating stain on his heart— no, his mind. You weren’t in his heart. That would be ridiculous. Just his thoughts, that was all. And that made it better, right? But as he tossed and turned, frustration bubbling up inside him, he realised he was wrong. It wasn’t any better. A low groan escaped him, and all he wanted to do was yell. But it was four in the morning, and all he could think about was you.

Bakugou didn’t want to fall. Falling in love? He didn’t even believe in that crap. Love was just a distraction, something that could derail his path to becoming the number one hero. He didn’t need whatever this was stirring inside him. But no matter how hard he tried to shove it down, you always came back. Like a stubborn ember refusing to die out. And a small part of him— one he didn’t dare acknowledge— wanted to let you in. To see if you could change his heart. What terrified him was the thought that you actually could. That you’d be the one to make him believe in love.

Yeah, he’s grumpy in the morning. Everyone steers clear of him. When you approached, you’d feel that heavy aura, instinctively knowing to leave him be, letting him brood in his silent fury. No one knew why he was in such a foul mood, and no one dared to ask. Not like he’d ever tell anyone anyway.

He tried to keep his distance from you. Forcing himself to act normal, like you were just another person in his orbit. Trying to treat you like you were everyone else. But his efforts were futile at best. Around you, his guard would drop unconsciously. His shoulders would relax, and he’d lean in just a little closer, drawn to your presence without meaning to be. It was maddening how easily he softened around you, how your very presence seemed to melt his defences away. When he caught himself, he’d snap back, stiffening his posture and throwing out some half-hearted insult, trying to reclaim his usual grouchiness. But it never lasted long. Because no matter how much he tried to fight it, he always ended up sinking back into the comfort of being near you. He couldn’t help it.

His gaze lingers on you, often without him realising it. A stolen glance here, a lingering touch there. Anything to feel that brief, electric contact. Normally, Bakugou wasn’t one for physical closeness; he hated being touched. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t resist the urge to brush his fingertips against yours, the lightest touch of your skin sending a jolt through him. A graze of your shoulder, the faintest brush of your arm—he craved it more than he’d ever admit. He felt like a fool and he hated it.

You want him to go to some new outlet with you? He’d follow without much protest, even if he didn’t see the point. You’d offer him a bite of some food he was sure he hated, and somehow, it tasted different when you fed it to him. Better, even. When you wanted to stay up and watch movies, he begrudgingly kept you company. Even though he’d rather be sleeping to adhere to his strict sleep schedule, his eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop. Occasionally flickering his gaze to you, just to make sure you didn’t doze off first. And if you were on the verge of sleeping, he’d hit you. You were the one who wanted to watch this dumb movie and he’d be damned if you were going to fall asleep.

But finally, he’s changed his mind on you. These past few months, he’d finally convinced himself that he didn’t feel anything for you at all. Whatever had been pulling him toward you was gone. He’s sure of it. He didn’t like you—not even a little bit. In fact.

He hates you.

He hated the way you looked at him—the way your eyes lingered, the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way your laugh echoed in his ears long after it faded. He hated how you fidgeted with your fingers, how you’d absentmindedly tap the table, or purse your lips in concentration while trying to remember where you left your stuff (which was, as always, on the floor between your bed and the bedside table). He hated the way you’d run your fingers through your hair to fluff it up, how you got lost in the pages of whatever book you were reading, or the way you hummed along to the music you were currently hooked on. And then there was your clumsiness—the way you always bumped into things on your left side, so much so that he instinctively started walking on that side, like he could shield you from your own absentmindedness.

He hated the way you spoke to him, the playful grin on your face when you said something witty, the mocking lilt in your voice whenever you got a good comeback. He hated the concern that crept into your tone when you noticed him pushing too hard, insisting that he rest properly. He hated the way you cared for him with a gentleness he didn’t think he deserved. He hated how you’d rise back up every time he knocked you down during sparring, your relentless spirit never wavering. The twinkle in your eyes when you talked about the future, the way you’d smile at him without a hint of hesitation—it all drove him insane. But most of all, he hated how easily he could see himself in that future with you, that creeping thought of being by your side no matter where you went. And he hated that he didn’t hate it at all.

He hated that he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

Maybe he’d always had a soft spot for you. Even if he never wanted to admit it, he couldn’t deny the truth he’d buried for so long: he’d fallen for you. You had him wrapped around your finger and he couldn’t stop himself. It was what you did to him that he hated the most. How you affected him. How you turned him into a lovesick fool. All because you existed beside him. He needed you because you’re everything he isn’t. He doesn't believe in love but no one makes him feel like you do.

In truth, he hated you from the start because you didn’t feel unfamiliar. When you meet new people, it usually takes time. Getting used to their mannerisms, their presence, the way they filled a room. So why were you so familiar? With you, there was no adjustment period. From that very first glance, your eyes were soft and inviting, your atmosphere light and effortless, as if you’d always been a part of his world. Even your scent, subtle and barely noticeable, felt familiar. Why were you so easy to get used to? You were so easy to get used to, and that terrified him. The moment you passed by him at the entrance exam, he’d felt it— a premonition of love he’d tried desperately to ignore. He knew from the start that falling for you was inevitable.

You knew it too didn’t you? That you’d end up falling for him as well. He never needed to confess because you already knew. You understood him well enough to know he’d never openly admit it. It only took one late night and a shared kiss for the two of you to finally embrace the love you both saw from the very beginning.

恋の予感 koi no yokan: (n.) lit. Premonition of love; the sense one can have upon meeting someone for the first time that the two of you are going to fall in love.

“You were never going to make the first move were you?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

It refers to the knowledge that future love is inevitable.

a/n: ugh I loved writing this on the plane. But I am very very tired now. For my wife @chocogoldie

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

this request ! fem ! reader , girly ! reader

katsuki with a girly!gf was not something that class 1a expected from the explosive blond. they all thought that he would end up falling for someone similar to his own personality and drive, and not you - his complete opposite.

despite the two of you being an unlikely pair, you complimented the other almost perfectly. your pretty pastel-based outfits and sweet mannerisms contrasted his loud, uncontrollable persona in a way that made it look natural. you were bubbly and pleasant to be around while your guard dog of a boyfriend loomed behind you.

more often than not, a pink accessory would be found somewhere on katsuki, especially if you werent present. whether it was a charm bracelet or a pink hairclip tucking away his unruly mop of hair, there was always some element of you on him, and it had become a game within the class to try and guess what 'mark' you had left on katsuki that day.

katsuki usually hated being ridiculed and made into a joke, but if it brought a smile to your face, he would walk around in a handstand all day just to see you laugh. your airy giggles and bright smiling face made it all worth it to him, and he didnt care that the two of you were nothing alike.

he didnt want someone that was like him, hell, he barely liked himself most of the time. so he found happiness in your difference, and how bright you were in comparison to him. you were his light, the calm to his storm.

MASSAGE OIL ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆k. bakugo⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

pairings : k. bakugo x reader

genre : crack, slice of life, established relationship

synopsis : After a grueling day of dance training, you’re sore as hell and in desperate need of a massage. Luckily, your explosive hothead of a boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugo, is more than willing to help—until things take a hilarious turn. What was supposed to be a relaxing massage turns into absolute chaos when you both realize Katsuki grabbed the wrong bottle… and slathered you in lube instead of massage oil. Cue the shouting, the accusations, and the absolute mess that follows.

warnings : profanities... like ALOT. a hint of explicit jokes too!

wc : 1,457

notes : OMG i haven't written in A WHILEE. wrote this out since it just spawned randomly in my mind and i thought it was kinda funny sooo... why not make a oneshot out of it! :D ANYWAYS, i still got a heck tone of pending papers to do cuz let's be honest, school sucks. JK! still tryin my best to keep those gpa's UPP!! (i'm about to crash out and lose my shit... help me) LOL hope ya'll would like this one the same way as I did!

---

The living room was quiet except for the occasional scroll of a thumb against a phone screen and the faint sound of Katsuki sighing every now and then. Both of you were sprawled out on the couch, wrapped in blankets, doing absolutely nothing but enjoying each other’s presence.

After a whole damn day of training yesterday, your body was in absolute shambles. Everything hurt—your legs, your arms, your back—hell, even blinking felt exhausting. And naturally, you were complaining about it.

“I swear to god, Kats, if I have to do another goddamn windmill next week, I’m gonna fucking lose it,” you groaned, tossing your phone onto your stomach. “My body is screaming at me. Like, I think my muscles are planning a rebellion. My back, baby. My back is DONE.”

Katsuki, not even looking up from his phone, let out a short snort. “Well, no shit. You disappeared for a few months and then jumped straight back into training like some lunatic. What’d you expect?”

“That I’d have superhuman regeneration powers, obviously.” You rolled onto your stomach, dramatically burying your face into the pillow. “Ughhh, I need a back massage. Katsuki, pleaseee.”

“Tch. Fine, fine,” he grumbled, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I’ll get the oil. Wait here.”

You watched as he got up, stretching slightly before making his way toward your shared bedroom. You sighed in relief, smiling to yourself. Perks of having a strong-ass Pro Hero boyfriend—he gave damn good massages.

A few moments later, Katsuki returned with the familiar little bottle in his hand. He plopped back down next to you, tugging at your oversized top. “Take this off.”

You turned to him with a lazy smirk. “Oh? A lil kinky now are we, huh?” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows.

He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Shut the hell up and turn around, dumbass. Ain't tryna get you dicked down.”

Chuckling, you finally pulled your shirt over your head and lay back down on the couch, getting comfortable as he poured some of the oil into his hands. He rubbed them together before pressing his palms against your skin, starting slow, letting his thumbs dig into your tight muscles.

In all honesty, training was the pain in the ass. Especially since you just got back after a few months of taking break from dancing. Not gonna lie though, dancing was really you passion ever since you were a kid and it lead you to many great opportunities and achievements you never thought you'd reach. You've been through countless of stages and danced your ass in all of them.

Definitely you're not ashamed of that, cause who would? It was just that you and your crew were all busy for the last couple of months since competitions were just coming in and it was just too much to handle physically and mentally. That's why you took a little break but of course you also took your time to pass by your studio ever now and then. Checking out on the progress of the routine, just not entirely participating in the dance.

"Ohh yeah, press a little bit harder there, Kats."

"Yeah, yeah, quite moanin' your ass, I know I got magical hands."

"Hell yeah you do, babe." You grinned and Katsuki just chuckles.

A few minutes then passed by in comfortable silence before something felt… off.

You frowned. “Hey, Kats?”

“Hm?”

“You bought a new massage oil, didn’t you?”

“The fuck you mean?” Katsuki paused, his hands still pressed against your back. “I bought the same menthol massage oil we always use. Why?”

“Well… it’s not minty like usual. And it feels kinda… greasy?” You turned your head slightly, your brows furrowing. “Like, I dunno, it doesn’t feel the same.”

Katsuki huffed, shifting slightly as he lifted his hands and rubbed his fingers together, as if expecting the familiar cooling sensation to suddenly appear. “What the hell? It’s been a few minutes, and I don’t feel that minty shit either…”

Now getting suspicious, he reached down and grabbed the bottle from the floor to check it properly. Maybe he bought the wrong one by accident?

He flipped the bottle around in his hands, reading the label.

“…uhhh.”

Your head snapped up. “Katsuki, what the fuck do you mean ‘uhhh’?”

Katsuki blinked. Then blinked again. His red eyes grew about two sizes as he processed what he was holding.

You twisted your body slightly to look back at him, and the second you saw the bottle, your stomach dropped.

“KATSUKI.”

He flinched. “What?!”

“YOU STUPID FUCK. YOU USED FUCKING LUBE INSTEAD OF MASSAGE OIL?!”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched as he immediately went on the defensive. “ASSHOLE, THEY WERE IN THE SAME DAMN CABINET. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE?!”

“OH, I DUNNO, MAYBE READ THE GODDAMN BOTTLE?”

“I WASN’T THINKING ABOUT READING, I WAS THINKING ABOUT RUBBING YOUR WHINY ASS DOWN.”

You sat up fully now, chest still out, and slapped your hand over your face in pure disbelief. Meanwhile, Katsuki was still holding the damn lube bottle like it wasn’t already too late.

“This is actually insane. We are insane,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Oh my god, Katsuki, what if I had skin allergies or some shit? What if I just broke out in hives? Huh?”

“Well it hasn't happened before now did it? And plus, we’ll figure it out, dumbass,” he shot back, but his voice was losing the edge, turning into a chuckle as he finally started to process the absurdity of the situation.

You groaned dramatically, flopping back against the couch. “You're actually disgusting.”

Katsuki finally burst out laughing, tossing the bottle onto the coffee table. “You’ll live.”

Still pouting, you crossed your arms, glaring at him. “We’re never speaking of this again.”

“No, no, we absolutely are,” Katsuki smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I’m tellin’ the whole damn crew. You got rubbed down in lube.”

“YOU’RE NOT TELLING SHIT.”

Katsuki laughed harder, leaning down to press a kiss against the side of your head. “Relax, dumbass. No one’s gonna know.”

“…Swear on your All Might figurine?”

Katsuki groaned. “God, you’re fucking impossible.”

You snickered before finally letting yourself relax in his embrace. As much of a disaster as that was, at least now you had a new inside joke to hold over him for the rest of your lives.

"Will you be a gentleman now and bring me up to go shower with me?" You batted your eyes at him.

"Aight, aight, we'll shower together, princess." He kissed you're temple and carried you bridal style towards the bathroom with you chuckling.

And if he ever fucked up again, you now had the ultimate trump card:

“You used lube instead of massage oil, babe. You literally cannot say shit.”

fin

---

CUDDLING W KATSUKI <33

pls he’s a such a cuddle bug!! he’s very guarded but once he’s comfortable w you he’s COMFORTABLE. he has no shame in wrapping around you and keeping you pinned to him and the bed for HOURS. you’re the only one who gets to see his clingy side!!

he likes it a lot when you lay on his chest! he gets to hold you close to protect you and also press kisses to your head. either one of or his top fav position fs

when katsuki thinks you should be heading to bed because it’s late (or he thinks you’re talking too much/being stupid and need to stfu) he likes to rub his fingertips gently down your back

ITS SO TINGLY and also very sleep-inducing. for someone who has literal explosions come out of his fingertips, it’s unbelievable how gentle his hands become. he’s trails his fingers up and down your spine with the most featherlight touch that makes you both shiver and sleepy

OH and he’d also be the type to give you lil tickly pinches and squeezes to make you giggle when you cuddle but also to shut you up when he thinks you’re being stupid. (he also does it just to hear your laughter but vehemently denies it)

sometimes katsuki gets cuteness aggression or like surges of “oh my god i’m in love with this man/woman” and squeezes you really really tight to his chest

he’d also be the type to like cradle and rock you to sleep. it’s insane how someone so violent and crazy can become so gentle and soft (will vehemently deny this statement)

katsukis love languages are def acts of service and physical touch!! pls he’s such a sweetie pie i love him

extra: one time kirishima and the gang caught you guys cuddling asleep and could not believe their eyes. like they weren’t even drinking water and all did spit takes. lots of photos were taken and he hasnt lived it down since

“If I asked nicely would you remove my spine then?” The words are muffled against Katsuki’s chest, your cheek smooshed against his warm skin as he chuckles beneath you.

“It’s your muscles that ache, not your spine, dumbass,” he corrects fondly, his fingers working at untangling your hair as he gazes down at you. His hands dip lower occasionally, a casual attempt to check your tempt that doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

The groan you let out is full of frustration, eyes closing and arms tightening around his torso. “You’re supposed to be nice to me when I’m sick,” you pout, earning another chuckle and a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m always nice to you.” He muses, resisting the urge to shift beneath you and risk disturbing your achy body. “Speaking of, I really shouldn’t be letting you lay on me when you’ve got a fever. Gonna overheat more,” he warns, his hands rubbing up and down your back despite his words.

“You’re just worried I’m gonna get you sick,” you mumble back, lip poking out in a pout. He sighs in response, his chest rising beneath you as affection seeps into his voice.

“You’re really dramatic when you’re sick, yknow that?”

chicken scratches ☆

synopsis : katsuki tries to surprise you...but he's taking too damn long !!

an. merry christmas(if you celebrate) n happy holidays yall !! i love my boyfriend as usual,,btw have yall seen that new hori art ??? dreamy sigh my man so stupid..

cw. itty bitty manga spoilers, but otherwise nun !!

when katsuki manages to hold a pencil again and write with his right hand, it looks absolutely horrendous.

switching from writing with their left hand then back to the right one would've been disorienting for most, and it probably was for him, but he didn't show it much aside from the occasional grumble and scoff at his trembling grip. nothing ever holds him back after all.

you sigh "can i—"

"no. don't look yet." katsuki has his back turned to you, sending you a sharp glare. hunched over his little piece of paper like how he'd hide his page from kaminari's peeking eyes during an exam, always so dramatic. he turns around with a huff and you snort with a roll of your eyes.

you had come over to his room after he’d told you to, mumbling out a quick “come over.” over the phone and hanging up before you could say a word.

and so here you were. waiting.

“katsukiiiiiiii—”

“shut up,” your boyfriend grunts, his scribbling sounds harsher, in a bit more of a rush. “so damn impatient..”

“but i wanna see what you wrote !” you kick your legs up in the air, pouting at his back sitting in his office chair. “i’ve been waiting for decades to see you write with that arm again.”

katsuki scoffs out a snarky laugh “yeah, well how do you think i feel ?” you groan, whining at his dark joke, he laughs again. “just stay put. ‘m..almost done.” he trails off, focusing back on his surprisingly long task.

you do know that despite being able to use his arm again, it had gone slow—surely, but really slowly. then again, he originally wouldn’t have been able to use that arm at all, so you’ll honestly take anything.

but the excitement is getting to you, and you really wanna see what he wrote ! so slowly, surely, you quietly try to sneak the short distance to his desk to peek behind his shoulder. however, your boyfriend has some crazy spider senses.

he sighs “if i turn around and you’re not sittin’ your ass on the bed i’ll—HEY !”

busted. katsuki catches you mid creep, so close to seeing his paper until he swiftly turns in his chair. he reaches out with his left hand, reflexively, and grabs a hold of your arm.

“you can’t ever just—do what you’re fuckin’ told ! knew you were being too damn quiet ! ” he complains between gritted teeth, trying to wrestle you away from him.

“i just—wanna see !” you shriek. when he suddenly remembers he can use his right hand again, and it almost feels nostalgic the way he jams it in your side to tickle you, dropping his pencil in the process. you think you hear it rolling on the floor, but your own noises of surprise overpowered the sound. he’d really gotten better at using that arm again, you could cry if your boyfriend wasn’t actively trying to shove his entire hand inside your ribs and push you away.

during the light scuffle, his hurried movements magically make the paper fly away with a harsh whip of his arm and a gust of wind, you thank every god when you notice it, just a second before he does. you’re half sure the world slowed down as you slide down to the floor and clutch the piece of paper in your grasp like the fate of the world depended on it.

the little piece of paper makes your heart jump, with its crumpled up edges and wonky writing and all.

I love you

both the o’s are too long, his u trails off towards the end and the e looks like he'd written it with the pencil in his mouth. it looks nothing like his usual handwriting.

but it was him, unmistakably, undeniably him and all of him and all of his efforts. all his efforts coming down to this. being able to write i love you and to show you.

your heart does more than jump, it restarts in your chest.

harshly, your flipped over by katsuki. he’s red all the way down to his neck and his eyebrows twitch angrily. but his hands, both his hands are gripping your cheeks hard and pulling at them and you can’t help but laugh.

“little shit. can never jus’ lemme be romantic..” he pouts, pouts like the adorable tryharding asshat he is, and you’re so so happy. your cheeks hurt cus he's tugging at them but his right thumb is digging into your cheek. you can feel the little callous on his middle finger because he holds his pencil with too much pressure on it.

“you’re so adorable.” it tumbles out between a watery laugh before you can stop it, katsuki’s jaw ticks and he gets even redder if that was even possible—he uses his right hand to squish your nose shut mid breath so your ears pop.

“shut it, shut up. ya ruined everything.” ducking down, his teeth make contact with your cheek and your chin knocks against his when you jump with a little scream. "i literally just finished. was just about to hand it to you, but noooo—everythin' has to go your way.." he angrily mumbles into your neck.

you press a kiss to his nape and he stiffens "i'm sorry for ruining your perfect surprise." he scoffs, biting at your shoulder. "i'm really happy though, it was unfortunately very worth it."

"you're a fuckin' fiend." he spits out, and you really can't help but laugh "love you too." you snort out, and his hands, both of them squeeze your sides hard, your cheeks hurt and you can't help but laugh.

Omg this is one of the most heartbreaking and beautiful fcs I have ever read in SO long- I can't 💖💖

In Case You Don’t Live Forever. (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Bakugou, blessed with immortality, meets the love of his life across all of their lifetimes. 

“Reincarnation is real. Even now, in what should be his fourth or fifth lifetime, Bakugou will tell you that it exists. He’s not sure which religion is right, which one wins at the end, whose god is real. But he knows that when we die, we don’t just vanish. We remain, somewhere, until it’s time for us to return to where we came from in new flesh and blood.”

Content Warnings: reader death (nothing graphic but this is a fic about reincarnation), rumination, loss of virginity, slight smut, slight cheating, friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, angst, hurt / comfort, pining bakugou, completely sfw big brother bakugou (in a VERY non-sexual way), child death (again, nothing graphic, but just in case), needles (an IV), afab reader.

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Thank you to @mikaaberry​ and @suyasgf​ for beta-reading this!! If you want two songs that set the tone for this fic, listen to in case you don’t live forever by ben platt and stuff we did from up!! I wanted to write a fic about Bakugou experiencing the different types of love, so here this is!!! Also…. I’ve been writing a lot of angst lately… sorry… 

Seguir leyendo

second helpings

synopsis: he owns the kitchen—until you quietly claim a corner of it, and he is enjoying it more than he lets on.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: been gone a while. had ran out of ideas but here we go

you don’t cook often.

not because you can’t, but because he always beats you to it.

katsuki treats his kitchen like a battlefield—controlled, efficient, and his.

he moves like he’s been doing it his whole life, sleeves pushed up, jaw set in focus, the faint smell of spices clinging to his shirt even after he’s done.

it’s something he enjoys, something he’s good at, and he rarely lets you lift a finger when it comes to meals.

so when you tell him, “i made something for you,” you expect a scoff, a teasing remark, maybe even a lecture about how he should be the one cooking for you.

what you don’t expect is for him to hesitate.

it’s barely noticeable, but you catch it—the slight pause, the flicker in his expression before his arms cross over his chest.

“you what?”

you huff, nudging the bowl toward him, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “i cooked something for you.”

his red eyes flick down, scanning the dish like he’s assessing its structural integrity.

it’s nothing fancy—just something simple you put together while he was out. but his fingers twitch slightly, like he’s holding himself back from reaching for it immediately.

“…what’s the occasion?”

you blink at him. “nothing. just wanted to.”

his brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand the concept of someone cooking for him just because they felt like it.

but after a moment, he exhales through his nose, jaw shifting as he grabs the chopsticks.

“you didn’t have to, y’know.”

you smile, resting your chin on your hand. “I know.”

he doesn’t say anything else before taking a bite.

the first one is quick—just a taste.

then the second comes almost immediately after, slower this time, more thoughtful. his chewing slows just a fraction—contemplative. his brows furrow, but not in a bad way.

he’s thinking.

then, without a word, he goes for a third bite.

you watch him, amusement curling at your lips. “well?”

he chews, swallows, and sets his chopsticks down with a casual motion.

“…it’s good.”

you stare.

then squint.

“just good?”

his ears tint the faintest shade of pink, and he scowls, looking at anything but you. “what, you want a damn trophy?”

you snort, shaking your head. “a simple ‘thanks’ would work.”

his mouth presses into a tight line, and for a second, you think he might just grumble his way out of this. but then, just barely above a mutter—

“thanks.”

your grin widens, warmth blooming in your chest as he goes back to eating, and even though he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t miss the way he finishes every last bite.

it happens again.

not immediately, but enough that it starts to become a habit.

one night, you make an extra portion without thinking, setting it aside without a second thought.

another night, you leave something for him when you know he’s coming home late, the dish waiting on the counter like a quiet reassurance that he isn’t alone.

you don’t always expect a reaction, but you always get one—even if it’s just a muttered “’preciate it” or the way his shoulders shift ever so slightly when he sees what you’ve left for him.

and then, one evening, you catch him sneaking extra bites.

you’re pretending not to watch, seated at the kitchen counter with a drink in hand, your body angled just enough to keep him in your peripheral vision.

katsuki eats like he always does—quick but deliberate, each motion efficient, no wasted movements.

his back is straight, his expression unreadable as he makes his way through the plate of curry you set in front of him.

then, the second you turn your head—

a blur of movement. a quiet clink.

your eyes snap back to him.

katsuki freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, a second helping clearly stolen from the pot sitting on the stove.

his jaw tightens as he chews, his expression carefully neutral, but you don’t miss the way his fingers tighten slightly around his chopsticks.

your brows lift. “did you just steal extra?”

a beat of silence.

then, his red eyes flick up to yours, his chewing slowing slightly as he glares, unimpressed. “what?”

your gaze drops to the now slightly emptier pot.

a slow grin spreads across your face.

“you did.”

he scowls, shoving another bite into his mouth like it’ll somehow erase the evidence. “it’s good. so what?”

you rest your chin on your palm, amusement flickering in your eyes. “you could just ask for more, you know.”

he clicks his tongue, gaze flicking to the side, suddenly finding the tiled floor far more interesting. “dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

after that, you start paying more attention.

to the things he likes, the things he doesn’t say outright but that you pick up on anyway.

you learn that he prefers meals fresh off the stove, that he eats fast but never wastes a single bite. that he loves spice—but sometimes, just sometimes, it even gets to him.

you catch the way he drinks more water when it does, the slight furrow of his brows when the heat creeps up on him.

“you good?” you ask once, watching as he takes another gulp of water.

he clicks his tongue, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. “’course I’m good.”

you just shake your head, amused.

even when he’s exhausted, dragging himself through the door after a long shift, he still eats whatever you make. no complaints, no hesitations.

just a quiet moment where his shoulders loosen and he sits down without a word.

and no matter how much he huffs and grumbles, no matter how much he acts like it’s nothing—

he never says no to your cooking.

one night, he comes home later than usual.

you’re already half-asleep on the couch, curled under a blanket, when you hear the door open.

heavy boots thud against the floor, the familiar sound of him kicking them off near the entrance. there’s a rustle of fabric as he shrugs off his hero jacket, the soft clink of his gear being set aside.

then—

a pause.

you blink groggily, rubbing your eyes as you push yourself upright. “katsuki?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just stands there, his gaze fixed on the covered dish waiting on the counter.

his shoulders loosen slightly, the exhaustion still clinging to him, but there’s something softer in the way he moves now, like the sight of the meal has pulled some of the weight off his shoulders.

“…you made somethin’?”

you yawn, stretching your arms above your head. “yeah. thought you might be hungry.”

he doesn’t say anything at first. just strides toward you, stopping in front of the couch, and before you can react—warm lips press against the top of your head.

it’s quick, fleeting, but it lingers in the way his breath ruffles your hair right after.

his voice is quieter this time. “thanks.”

your chest feels light, a soft warmth settling beneath your ribs, but before you can process it, he’s already moving again. he grabs the plate, lifts the lid, and takes in the meal.

then, he makes his way back to you, dropping onto the couch beside you.

his thigh presses against yours, his body radiating warmth, and then an arm drapes over your shoulders, pulling you in.

you blink, a little surprised, but you don’t resist, sinking into him as he picks up his spoon.

he eats in steady bites, quiet, comfortable. then, without a word, he scoops up another bite and holds the spoon out to you.

you hesitate for half a second. “you don’t have to—”

“just eat.”

you huff, but open your mouth anyway, letting him feed you.

the flavors settle on your tongue, familiar and warm, but you barely notice because katsuki’s watching you now, eyes flicking over your face like he’s waiting for your reaction.

you chew, swallow, then smile a little. “tastes good.”

his mouth twitches, and he clicks his tongue, looking away. “’course it does. you made it.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

take this for your safety

bakugo x fem!reader

Requested by Anon: pranking your ProHero boyfriend Bakugo

As much as you loved your boyfriend you couldn't help but enjoy his misery.

It was Bakugo's Friday, and he just wanted to get home and eat a warm meal with his girlfriend. Which he did, like clockwork the sound of his gauntlets hitting the floor alerted you of his arrival.

You ran to greet him, helping him take off his gear as you pestered him to wash up before he touched anything. You had spent the last hour cleaning and your efforts weren't going to be ruined by gunpowder and smoke.

It was a routine for the both of you, Bakugo would quietly unwind before seeking you out as you set out the food for each other.

He'd come up from behind and hold you in his arms as you put together the finishing touches. It was warm and comforting, the little life you had together was always moving so this certain time it was nice to find silence.

Your boyfriend went to bed first, keeping his strict schedule of sleeping early even on his day offs. Kissing you on the head and giving you his love.

Nothing out of the cycle, you'd crawl into bed with him not soon after and both wake up tomorrow to start all the weekend.

So imagine Bakugo's surprise when he's abruptly shaken from his slumber, the words you say to him sound like he has cotten in his ears.

"Babe. Babe! Wake up there's someone here." You whisper, shaking him awake as you hold your phone in your hand.

"Huh?" Bakugo sits up dazed, looking around your room confused and tired as he swayed. His eyes squinting to stay open as he looked up at you.

"I think I heard someone in the house! Go check it out!" You said, pulling the blanket away from his body.

He doesn't say anything, still half dead as he hastily gets out of bed. His steps clumsy as he looks between you and the door, still not noticing the phone in your hand.

"Here take this for your safety." You shove your limited addition Red Riot plushy into his hands as you push him towards the door.

He doesn't think twice before heading out.

Even if half asleep his body still operated as if he was working. His palm raised in case he encountered an attack and the stuffed hero was gripped tightly to his chest for protection.

You followed behind him, still recording as you tried to stifle your laughter. The closer he got to the main room the more he woke up, glancing around cautiously before looking down at his "shield." Confused by the random stuffy in his arm he looked behind him, and staring straight at him was your phone and you holding your mouth to stay quiet.

It took him a second to put comprehend everything but one he did you were screwed.

"IS THERE EVEN AN INTRUDER?!" He yelled finally catching on to the ever silent house. That's when you started cackling, heaving as you couldn't believe the prank worked.

Your top hero boyfriend who many feared was standing in the middle of the hallway in his matching pajama pants and a Red Riot plushy attached to him.

You let out a puff of air as he chucked the plushy at him. Before sprinting after you, realizing you were in danger you kicked into high gear and ran to your shared room.

Running to hide under the covers, giggling as wrestled you to the surface.