#I really hate bakugou... a lot... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

everythingspokenfor · 3 months ago

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𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

⚘ Pairing: Bakugou x reader

⚘ Summary: Bakugou tries to figure out why you work so hard while you try to live a quiet life.

Usually people don't plan their own birthday parties, but this really wasn't just your birthday, Shindo had finally entered the hero rankings, and to you that was a big achievement.

The cake although small, still had lots of embellishments made of chocolate, each one something he loved. You had been excited, bouncing around the tiny one bedroom apartment, having decorated the living room to the best of your abilities you waited for him to come home.

Shindo had been your best friend since kindergarden, always having looked after you, he was 4 years older than you, your parents being neighbours really added onto your friendship.

He had a quirk, you didn't, that didn't matter, at least not to you, he went to U.A. while you prepared for local colleges, it was difficult initially, he was working as a rookie, barely meeting ends, while you had just started college, when you suggested to move in together, you both got a apartment together just before your nineteenth birthday.

Maybe you were blinded by your feelings for him, but somewhere along the way you had failed to realise that maybe this really wasn't the Shindo you grew up with, he worked 4 days a week, his patrol hours merged into those 4 days, rest he spend at clubs, bars and other places where he could mask the smell of rotting soul with liquor.

One of your friends had suggested you work at one of the clubs you attended, said it was an easier way to earn money. Shindo knew about this offer, and he was the one to encourage you to get this job, especially considering you lacked a quirk, people like you, don't usually get chances like this after all.

Majority of people wanted to see the bartender or dancer with some or the other flashy quirks, if you were being honest, that department also preferred people that had quirks.

So, you get that job, work as a bartender first, then as an dancer, though you knew going further would increase you pay 10-folds, you still refused any other offers, the owner was kind enough to not push you too much, even keeping an eye out for you, making sure no creeps made you uncomfortable.

For one thing that Shindo was right, it was the pay, college became easier when you only had to spend 4 hours at one job instead several hours at 2 separate jobs, you could afford rent, afford your degree, afford groceries, maybe you hated yourself a little, maybe you hated not having a quirk but at least you could afford to live.

Shindo doesn't show up that day, the icing melting off the cake, dinner cooled to the core, all the decor you put up for him, seemed like a little pity party for yourself.

You make an excuse on his behalf, he must have gotten busy, he was a hero afterall, one of the top heroes now, he probably wanted to come but couldn't make it.

So, you rub your eyes, hoping to clear up your vision, and clean around the house, he'll come tomorrow to a clean house, you'll congratulate him then.

Unfortunately, he doesn't come home the next day or the day after, or even weeks later, all you end up getting is a text, saying that he is sorry, you only see him in billboards, on t.v. screens, no longer in person, he becomes a stranger.

You see him again, a month later, at the club, surrounded by his friends, celebrating another achievement you suppose. As much as you try to avoid him, you couldn't, not when you almost ran into him.

"Fancy running into you," he gloats, before continuing, "here." As if he wasn't aware of your predicament.

"I work here, Grand, have been for almost a year." You wish your voice did quiver, wish you could handle his presence with ease.

You knew he was an asshole, but he was your friend too, you shouldn't have been so disposable to him. Feeling your eyes gloss over, you turn to leave the counter, few minutes worth of break won't really put the club out of business.

"Hey!" Shindo follows you out, his bigger steps helping him easily crowd you into the hallway.

"What do you want, Shindo?" You sob out, back of your hand pressed tightly against your eye, only managing to smear your tears.

There was no good excuse to justify his behaviour, Shindo knows that much, cutting off all contacts with you abruptly just because he didn't see you fit in his new circle was a shitty thing to do.

Hero rankings is a twisted concept, although multiple informative outlets and news sources claim that these are based solely on work of hero on the field everyone knows it's all about popularity, who has more endorsement, who participated in more ad campaign, whose face is more often planted on the Billboard.

Maybe, seeing his face so often without yours really made me think he was better off without you.

"I wanted to explain myself." He doesn't believe his own words, deep down he knows he fucked up when he assumed that you'll always be around, even when he wasn't.

Your eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed red as big tears dribbled down, "I don't want it." There is defeat in your voice, maybe he beg his way back in your life. "I don't want anything," you breathe, philtrum glossy with tears and runny nose, "I don't want you, I don't want explanation, I want fucking distance between us." You shoved him, he staggers back, your words more of a force than your push.

"You are exhausting, Shindo." You wipe your cheeks, turning towards the back room.

"At least give me a fucking chance to explain."

"Explain what?! That I am some kind of a burner friend? Huh, you left without a word, without a fucking goodbye," You sucked kn a deep breath, alright feeling exhausted, "without any explanation back then, what's makes you think it'll be different now."

Shindo watches you walk away again, knowing that he really couldn't fix this mess.

----

The days only get more tiring, your shifts at the club exhausting you more than ever, you wonder if this might be a good time to apply else where.

Ever since you ran into Shindo there, you have been more tired than usual, you tried changing your working time, even took few days off but the prospect of running into him made it difficult.

You supposed that taking on a new job wouldn't be so difficult, afterall you only worked for 4 hours in the evening, you could afford to get a second job, it'll just add up to your savings as well as give you lesser time with your thoughts.

You applied to bunch of hero agencies, knowing that they have a tendency to hire quirkless individuals to help them financially. A peace offering probably, Oh! You don't have a quirk, here, have a desk job.

Out of all the agencies that you had applied to, only few smaller ones replied within few days, you did expect that, no bigger agency would pick you, considering your lack of experience and expertise.

However, one bigger agency did reach out to you immediately, suggesting an interview and immediately a job.

You didn't expect to be hired by Dynamight's agency within 3 days of applying, his agency was the fasted to respond, already planning to give you the employee badge when you mentioned living close by.

It's takes a 20 minute call and some questions before you were officially hired.

----

The building is a lot bigger than what you anticipated, especially considering your department in Dynamight's agency, biodata and informatics, something that requires perseverance more than the degree.

Your job required you to sit in front of the computer, 8 hours a day, typing away details of whatever crimes had been dealt with that day. From the complete background of the criminals to what the victims had to say, every action taken and what nots.

It used to be easy, at least in the beginning when you had to do reports for just Dynamight and Red Riot, eventually workload got more as more heroes realised that they could dump their paperwork and reports onto you.

You adapted, working overtime, getting it all done, what more could you really do, they were heroes and you, well you were just you.

The first time you ran into Pro-Hero Dynamight, it was christmas eve, the office was completely empty, at least your department, majority of people had holiday, some took leave while others attended a half-day, you on the other hand were working overtime.

It was almost 10 in the evening, the sky completely black, the office was dim too, on the light in the lobby and your little cubicle illuminated, still having few reports left you got up to make yourself a cup of coffee.

It's complete silent when you enter the pantry, hands blindly reaching for expensive coffee beans stacked on the shelves, it's all mundane, a little break before you get back to typing, the machine rings, indicating your coffee is done, you grasp the handle of the mug, slowly bringing it to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage.

You turn around, only to be startled to find a hulking figure standing at the entrance. Letting out a shriek, you almost lose balance, his hand shoots out, steadying you by your wrist, before grabbing your cup and placing it on the counter.

"What are ye' still doin' here?" Bakugou grunts, eyes squinting as he takes in your form.

"Shouldn't I be asking that, jeez!" You blurted, the fact that it was Pro-Hero Dynamight and not some random co-worker registering after words had already left your mouth. You stare at him with wide eyes, a constipated grimace forming on your lips.

He quirks his eyebrow, watching as you inwardly cringe at your tone, "It's my agency, I can be here whenever I want." He moves forward, coming to stand mere inches away, "You, on the other hand, should be at home."

"I have work... Sir." You answer, heart still racing, as you looked at your boss, he continues to stare at you, before turning to leave.

"Should be at home on holidays, typewriter." And he is out the hallway. You don't think your first meeting was significant, don't even think he remembered you after few days.

Weeks pass on, and your work continues to grow, more heroes depositing there reports on your desk, with half-assed promises to give a word in your promotion.

Today was your fourth day in a row, working overtime, the days had only gotten longer, more files piling up than you'd like to admit.

You are alone in the office, or at least you were till few moments ago, your boss no longer sneak around you, maybe the initial jump scare allowed you to evolve a new mechanism to detect his presence.

You assume it's his usual round, he has made a habit of lingering in the department, more often than his did, more often than he should. He walks in, through the main entrance, looking around eyeing everyone thoroughly, before walking back out.

Today, or tonight considering it's almost 11 in the evening, he doesn't follow the routine, instead of walking back out, he walks towards your cubicle, you scramble slightly, suddenly hyper aware of his presence.

"You've made a habit of staying here past the office hours." He leans against the thin walls, arms crossed, muscles bulging through his sky blue shirt, you ogle his build for a minute before meeting his eyes.

"I am not really done yet and I don't want to leave reports for tomorrow." Your answer is the same, work made you stay here.

"How many reports did they hand ya?" He grunts, walking towards you, before crouching down slightly, one hand behind the headpiece of your chair, other typing in your work computer. Oh, dang, you can smell his post workout, musky sweaty, delici-, You straighten your back, hoping to pull yourself out of your sudden inappropriate thoughts.

You don't really know what he is doing, opening all the previous reports you had written. You watch as his expression shifts, brows furrowing as he clicks his tongue.

"Did ya' do all these reports?"

"I did(?)" You muttered sheepishly, wondering had you somehow fucked up every single report and now he is going to fire you.

"How long have ye' been doing other people's work?" He turns his head sharply, his nose almost touching yours, you back up a little, he looks furious.

"It's nothi-"

"That's not what I asked."

"Few weeks now, since Christmas I think."

He doesn't reply, instead he stands up straighter, hand coming up to rub his face, he lets out an exhausted sigh, looking over to your hunched form.

"Take few days off, I'll get these done."

"But-" He doesn't let you start, instead walking out the cubicle, the faint ding of the elevator indicative of his departure.

You are still shocked, hands moving absent-mindedly as you gathered your belongings wonder how long was your sudden holiday, what did the agency consider few days.

You returned to work in 2 days, the silence of your apartment gnawing at your skin, you brain overthinking and conjuring up images of you getting fired, so after 2 days off, you are back.

Everything seems normal, apart from the wariness of people around you, everyone seemed more cautious, not necessarily avoiding you but not out right being in your way either.

None of the heroes showed up at your desk either, you wonder for a moment, if you had perhaps been fired, maybe that's why no one gave you work, cause you had no work.

Alas, bliss didn't last long when you spied 2 rookies heroes glancing your way from the lobby, one of the narrowed his eyes at you before scoffing and walking away, what was up with him today?, not really paying much mind to it, you got to checking your emails, trying to gather all the work that might be pending.

You had forgotten what it's like to not be burdened by work, already having finished all of it by noon, you ventured into the cafeteria, in hopes of finding something to eat. Usually the chefs prepared fresh meals throughout the day, Dynamight forcing all his staff to eat better.

You hadn't really been to cafeteria before, always busy during lunch time and often on coffee breaks during dinner. The cafeteria is spacious, had tables ranging from large tables for groups to smaller individual booths. You greeted the staff, moving to grab a plate.

The food smelled divine, you grabbed the bowl of katsudon from the server's hand and went to one of the solo booths, the idea of sitting with others hand being too intimidating for you, baby steps it was.

You were enjoying your food, along with the view of the city, when a large figure slipped into the booth beside yours, instinctively you hunched forward, face nudging deeper into the space of the booth, intending to avoid interacting with anyone at all cost.

"Ye' normally have a shitty posture or is it just 'round me?" Your could recognise his gruff voice anywhere, his existence becoming more and more prominent into your daily routine.

"It's not that bad," You mumbled, laying chopsticks flat to make sure you don't take a bite when he is asking something, sitting up straighter turning towards him, your curiosity gets better of you and you queried "Did you scold the other heroes?"

He narrows his eyes at you, lips forming a scowl, "Did someone say anything to you?" Before he looks over your shoulder, narrowing his eyes at anyone that looked towards you both.

"No! I was just asking," You look down at your bow! of food, "The reports reduced by alot, so I was just wondering."

"That's 'cause now ye' are doin' what ye' are supposed to." He grumbled, "No longer picking up others slack."

"I didn't mind it," You mindlessly fiddle with your chopsticks, "They probably have better work to do, like save the world."

He turns to eye you, judgement clearly visible in his gaze, "Having other duties doesn't give 'em an excuse to dump their shit on others." He retorts, chugging water from the glass, "Next time some rookies tries to give ye' work, tell 'em to ask Dynamight first."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sir Dynamight."

"Tsk, it's just Bakugou to ya."

He watches you nod your head slightly, before going back to stabbing your chopsticks into katsudon, he observes as you pick out chilli from the meal and scrap if off the side of the bowl.

"You don't like chilli."

"I don't like spicy food." You shake your head slightly. You watch him nod at your words before he steps out of his chair, grabbing the empty plates and walking towards the kitchen.

You immediately notice the change in menu the next day and every day after, there were more savoury items listed.

----

In his own was Bakugou starts looking after you, making sure others don't bother you, leaving a little later than usual, so he could drive you home on some days.

"You are attending the Gala, aren't you?" Mitsuki queried, sharp eyes looking at him directly.

Bakugou avoids her gaze, suddenly more interested in the food she had brought, "It's a Valentine's event, Ma." He answers, leaning over the table to grab water, "Requires a plus one, you and I both know I don't have time for that." He chugs in half the bottle in one go.

"So, you don't have time to invest in a relationship." Bakugou nods his head, eyes meeting her's. "But, you have time to drive her home, every other day." Mitsuki watches delightfully as the colour drains off Bakugou's face, before it returns in a rosy shade of red, starting at his ears.

"It's not like that, Ma I am just helping her." He defends, huffing and crossing his arms, his tone is even though, he isn't mad just shy, he has grown, Mitsuki notes, perhaps had it been a decade ago, she would tease him back, but maybe she grew as well, she suppose.

"It's not necessary for you to attend that Gala," She begins, eyeing his again, "or tell me about your personal activities," Bakugou groans at her choice of words, feeling himself cringe as his mother pretends to be professional about the situation.

"Your dad will be here in a bit, I'll be out of your hair soon," She remarks, looking at clock, before she starts packing up the tupperware.

"How did you-" He stops mid-sentence, as if contemplating, before he begins again,"How did you figure it out?"

"I am your mother, kid, I know everything." Mitsuki snickers at the groan Bakugou lets out.

----

"-namight called us to his office yesterday, apparently the new bitch in data management department complained." One of the interns grunts, followed by curses.

Another intern quips, "Pretty sure he just have a soft spot for quirkless losers." He stops before continuing, "afterall desks jobs are the only thing they are good at." Both of them laugh, turning to walk out the changing rooms, only to be abruptly stopped by Kirishima's large frame, a wide, almost predatory grin spreading on his face.

"Now kids, that isn't really a good way to talk about people." He chimed, moving to pat both their backs roughly, "Why don't you do early morning patrols as well, for a week?" He assigns them work, before walking out, ignoring their groans of protest.

Kirishima enters Bakugou's office without knocking, years of knowing each other gave him the permission to barge into his personal space whenever.

"Heard you reprimanded few rookies this week?" Kirishima begins, eyeing Bakugou who was hunched over his gauntlets, tinkering away, "It's very unlikely for you to interact with interns, you don't even take interns?" He continues.

"Some of your interns don't know how to do their jobs," Bakugou grunts, not bothering to look at Kirishima, "had to set them straight while you weren't here."

"That's understandable, Bakubro." He grins, Bakugou can already feel the headache brewing, this fucker is up to no good, "What about the menu, why are there so many changes?" Kirishima leans in, making sure Bakugou can't avoid his eyes.

"'Cause some employees can't handle spice, that's why, Eijirou."

The use of his first name doesn't deter, Kirishima, infact it only adds fuel to the fire, so there is more to this.

"All these changes for one employee," He chimes, "Does Bakubro have a C-R-U-S-H, a crus-?" A pillow cuts off Kirishima's singing, he snorts before looking at Bakugou again.

Although Kirishima remains silent for the rest of his stay, his teasing grin is enough to make Bakugou groan.

----

You walk into the office to see him resting on the sofa with his head back and eyes closed. Placing the reports in his desk, eyes locking onto his face before your turn to look through the large windows. Watching the city comes to life, as people turn on the decorative lights once the evening sets in.

"You are still here." His voice is hoarse, yet it holds no emotion, just a simple statement.

"It's still 4 in the evening, I am not working overtime."

His lips quirk up, a grin almost plastering on his lips, "I meant you working on a yer birthday." He sits up straight, hands pressed together in his lap, he was wearing his suit pants with a t-shirt, an odd combination that he somehow pulled off.

Your eyebrows furrow when you register his words, after you finished oogling him, how did he know it's your birthday.

"Well I had nothing better to do."

"Don't ye' celebrate with family and friends." His head tilts slightly, genuine curiosity peaking through, he looks younger when he isn't frowning, a boyish charm that refuses to leave him.

"I don't," you mutter out, hoping that he doesn't expect you to complete your sentence. You don't know how you'll explain to him that you haven't celebrated your birthday in past 2 years, and the last time you did, you regretted spending saved up money for someone that didn't even want to be there.

Not that you celebrated before that, family was never really there, and your friends well they had better things to do.

You watch him contemplate, biting the inside of his cheek before gets up and grabs his car keys, "let's go," you standing puzzled. "Why aren't you coming?"

"Where?" You queried, looking at him perplexed. You followed him, feet picking up the pace to match his long strides.

"Somewhere, anywhere." He spoke, almost wishfully, like he was lost in a trance filled with plethora of places to be. "We are going to have a late lunch, or maybe an early dinner."

Your steps halted, "Don't you have work, plus my shift isn't over yet."

"Why do ye keep forgettin' that I own this agency, a little break isn't going to get you fired, typewriter." He spoke, a soft smirk plastering on his lips as he watch you speed up, confusion still lingered on your face but you still followed him.

You had to jog a little, to keep up with his long strides, still having no idea what he was planning on doing, you were left to follow him.

The diner he chose for the was something hidden well into the city walls, small little shop tucked away from the busy streets, there were only 3 people working there, all of them seemed to treat Bakugou like their family.

Greeting him warmly as he entered, the old lady smiling sweetly as she pinched at his cheeks, berating him for not visiting often.

The lady immediately nudges him aside as you catch her eye, her soft wrinkled hands coming to cradle your forearms, her eyes twinkled as she looked at you, "She is really pretty Sparkles, you certainly have a good taste." Her words make you turn towards Bakugou immediately, eyes widened as you tired to understand what she meant.

"You got it all wrong, she isn't my- I don't-" He fumbles his words, despite the situation you find it endearing, watching him flustered.

"Oh, hush now! We all know how this one is going to end." She lets out a mischievous giggle as she winks at you, pulling you towards one of the booth, Bakugou follows behind, refusing to meet your eyes.

The space is cozy, decorated with warm light dangling overhead, she places a menu in front of you both, corners crinkled and torn with time, before she disappears into the kitchen.

"So..." You dragged out, eyes lingering on Bakugou's face, he narrows his eyes suspiciously, "do you have any recommendations, Sparkles." You bite your lip, trying to seem non-chalant, failing miserably as you duck you head to giggle.

When you lift your head back up, you are prepared to see him seething with rage, ready with threats to skin you alive, however, that isn't the case, he is looking at you, eyes soft and lips parted, only to lower his head instantly the moment he caught your eye.

Bakugou avoids your eyes as you continue looking at him expectedly, like you asked a question, which he realises you did, "Everything is good here!" It's abrupt and vague, he lowers his head again looking at the menu, "Curry rice is good, it's also least spicy thing on the menu." He remarks, hoping you didn't catch his loss of composure.

"Right, so I'll get a serving of curry rice."

It doesn't take the staff long, to prepare your dishes, placing your respective orders on the table within 20 minutes.

You immediately dig in, cheeks puffing up slightly as you take a big big of the delicious curry rice, you hear a chuckle in front of you, eyes immediately darting ahead to look at Bakugou, you furrow your brows slightly, questioning him.

"You look like a chipmunk that found treasure of peanuts." He snorts, watching as confusion along with amusement spread on your face.

You chew up the remaining food, swallowing with a sip of water. "What can I say, this is good."

You both continue eating, chatting in between, the sun sets slowly behind the horizon, gradually painting the sky in warm colours, by the time you were done, it was already 8 in the evening.

The old lady, bids you farewell, warm hands clutching yours as she turns her head to tell Bakugou to bring you here often.

Bakugou grumbles something under his breath, before slowly guiding you to the car.

----

The car comes to a hault, stopping in front of your apartment complex, you open the gate, stepping out the car, Bakugou steps out too, jogging around, coming to stand beside you.

"I had it." You mumbled, eyes darting towards your watch, you still had an hour before your shift at the club started.

"I know you did." He rasps, smooth fingers coming to gently take your work bag off your shoulders, he moves back a little, waiting for you to guide him to your apartment.

"Thank you for today, I suppose." You face him, eyes locking with him, "You really didn't have to take time out of your da-"

"I wanted to." He moves closer, hand coming to rest behind your head on the car door, "Everyone deserves a little treat on their birthday." He said with finality.

You nod your head, before turning slowly, feets aching slightly as you moved to the building, he can see you biting your lips, fingers fiddling with the lose strap of your wrist watch, you take a deep breath before turning towards him, "I wasn't expecting guests, the apartment is a bit of a mess." You utter, sheepishly shuffling into the elevator.

"Just walkin' ye back to yer house, typewriter," He looks skeptical, like he doesn't really believe you, "I've got other places to be."

You move out the elevator and head to your apartment, unlocking your door, hands coming to take your bag from him, he watches you walk into your apartment, closing the door behind you. You watch him, through the window, walking out the building into his car, before driving away.

----

"No, thank you, I had dinner a while ago." You politely decline one of the customer's offer for a dinner date, he insists again, before Martin slides beside you.

"Hey! Big man, is the dinner offer valid for me too." The guy instantly retreats at his cheery tone, sensing the unhinged energy radiating off your boss.

"You didn't have to harass him like that, Marty." You whip the glass countertop, drying your hands before handing him a shot, "You'll drive away customers."

He huffs in your direction, swiftly swiping away the glass, sassy motherfu-, "There is no need for such losers here." He downs the shot.

He watches you snort at his response before going back to making drinks, passing tabs to other employees for payments to be made.

"Why are you happy?" He blurts, you give him a nasty side eye instantly, "Sorry, sorry, wrong choice of words, I was wondering," He starts, correcting himself, "You have been happy these days, giddy even, like genuinely enjoying life, i haven't seen this look on you in forever."

You look at Martin, bewildered, "I don't know, I just haven't been having a hard time lately," You spoke, slowly your work so you could take to him, days have indeed been easier, somehow your sleep schedule was fixed despite working late nights.

"Is it because your new boss is hot." He queried, gaze scanning you up and down, "You aren't going to leave your dear Marty, for your new hot boss right?"

You giggle at his words, partly shy because yes, Bakugou was indeed hot. "No, Marty I am not going to leave you for him."

"So, he is hot, what else is good about him, other than his immense hotness?"

You look at Martin for a moment, "He is nice, I suppose." You mumbled, as your mindlessly fiddled with the glasses around you.

"Nice? Really, that's all you have to say about mister hot blonde?"

"Well, he is sweet and considerate too, he scolded the interns that were handing me extra work, he even changed the menu at the lunch area to include less spicy food," You quiet down, realising that you may have ranted a bit, "He is still my boss though, so no funny business."

"We'll see about that."

----

It's past midnight when you are returning from the club, you changed already but the body glitter still clings to your skin, you let out a breath, thinking about how you'll have to scrub it all off.

Spotting the convenience store on the way, you decide to get something to eat. It's cold when you enter, the drop in temperature biting at your skin, you grab a premade bento, something with curry and rice, before grabbing a bottle of beer.

Walking up to the register, you watch as the racks advertised Pro-Heroes on snacks, a hot sauce bottle with Bakugou's face caught your eye, without thinking much you grabbed it too.

He seemed to be everywhere these days, even when he wasn't really around.

----

Grand used to be a local here, before he got big. before his little fanclub turned into a cult, you wish that didn't happen, wished that he would remain a friend so you could joke about it when you meet him, an inside joke that only you and him understood.

"Thought you took a more..." He pursed his lips, forehead wrinkling as he pretended to think hard, "...decent job." He drags his words, hoping to entice any emotion from you.

You snort, hands coming to grab his empty glass, filling it up with a concoction of cheap liquor and fruit syrup, "You haven't really changed," there is a spite in your tone, that had replaced the usual disdain you showed.

His brows knitted, eyes darting across your face, as he tried to decipher your emotions.

You made it easier for him, "I did, Dynamight has been treating me good." There is half truth in your words, he does treat you alright, but what matters more is that he doesn't treat you like shit, you don't phrase it like that though.

"Not good enough, if you still have to be pawed at here." His expression hardened, fingers gripping his glass tighter, he leans forward, waiting for your response.

You look at him, like he is an inconvenience, like he is another customer demanding more than what he can afford, "This is retirement plan, and we both no there is no 'pawing' happening here." You tutted, eyes scanning the crowd as you looked for other customers wanting to order, "If you are done here, I have work, see ya 'round, Grand."

You turned to leave, shoulders feeling lighter as his presence no longer suffocated you, you assume he doesn't owe you anything, not explanation, not time, you have made peace with how thinks ended.

Similarly, you suppose, you don't owe him anything either, that friendship was done and dusted, it doesn't matter how shitty the situation was or how poor it ended, you are glad that you moved on from it, from him.

He is still stunned, wondering what exactly did Bakugou do to make your life better despite this hellhole. Well there was only one way to find out.

----

Bakugou had a certain dislike towards Shindo, hero work aside, he just didn't like Shindo's personality, maybe it was the interaction during the licensing exarn but his mention always lett a bitter taste in Bakugou's mouth.

They didn't interact much, both heroes working in separate locations, the patrols never overlapped, the only time Bakugou sa him was during events and that wasn't enough to justify Shindo lounging in his office today.

So far, Shindo had figured out that Bakugou did infact have a soft spot and a nickname for you, talking with the employees, working his charm, he got his answers. Though you'd argue they answered because they wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

"What are ye doin' here?" Bakugou queried, suspiciously eyeing him before rounding about the desk to sit on his chair.

"Nothing can't I just come over to see my friend?" Shindo chimed, head coming to rest on his palms.

"You and I aren't close enough for hangouts, what Is it, Grand?"

Shindo raised his eyebrow, disgruntled by the lack of interest in the conversation Bakugou showed. "You've been enjoying company of an ex-friend of mine," He leans back, eyes scanning through the one-way window, trying to get a look at the staff. "I just thought to come over and warn you, I suppose."

"The fuck are you yapping about, Grand? Is this your new found way to bother others?"

"Bother you? Huh... You are the one bothering me." Shindo's tone was no longer calm, instead venom dripped from his words, Bakugou realised this wasn't really a casual conversation after all.

"Just wanted to tell ya, the bitch catches a bone for any man." Shindo hissed, his patience thinning each second he sat infront of Bakugou.

Bakugou's brows knitted, confusion painted clearly on his face, he didn't really understand what Shindo was blabbering about. For a moment he wondered if Shindo had hit himself in the head and was actively hallucinating in his office.

"Your precious little typewriter isn't all that good-" Shindo barely even finished his sentence, when Bakugou's fist connected with his jaw, he laid there, on the tiled floor, as he stared at Bakugou walking towards him, he sure did connect dots fast, damn.

"You don't walk into my office and talk shit about my fucking employees, especially her," Bakugou rasps, barely even touching Shindo, his stance and his tone enough to the message into his skull. "Clean up yourself 'fore you crawl out of here."

Shindo gets up, letting out a bittersweet laugh, you really did find someone worthy of you.

He doesn't bother fixing his clothes, aware that wouldn't bring him his dignity or you back. Just as he leaves the elevator, his eyes catch yours, a large pile of paper in your hands.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows raising, realising who was in the building, before the scrunched together, in confusion, when you noticed his bruising face. Shindo didn't bother stopping when you called after him, your lover would eventually tell you what happened.

You hadn't expected to run into Shindo during your shift, the initial dread of seeing him here quickly changed into concern when you spotted his bleeding nose. You call out for him, but he doesn't bother stopping, continues to walk out, your calls falling on deaf ears.

You almost chase after him, but a hand wraps around your wrist, you look back to see Bakugou, his expression somber, as he pulled you towards the elevator.

"Is he okay?" You still tried to look through the clear glass of the lobby, "He was bleedi-"

"I hit him."

You turn to look at him, brows furrowing in confusion, mind racing as you tried to decipher what could have went down between them, whilst subtly looking for any sign of injuries on him.

"He couldn't land a hit on me if he wanted." Bakugou sounds smug, slight smirk graces his lips as he catches your eyes scanning him for injuries.

"That still doesn't explain why he was hurt.'

"Spewed bullshit in my office, knocked some sense into him."

You scrunch your brows, confused as to why Shindo would come to Bakugou's office, as far as you know, neither are they friends nor do they work on missions together. "What was he here for anyways?"

"Aren't ya' curious, typewriter?" Although a teasing smirk painted his lips, his tone was far from playful, you could hear the anger laced in it. "What exactly is he to you?"

You don't answer him, not really sure what happened to bring up that question, although you have a fleeting idea. The elevator dings upon it's arrival, letting you escape briefly.

You get into the enclosed space, suddenly aware of his looming presence, he hand reaches out suddenly, pressing the stop button. "We aren't leaving, till you answer my question?"

You feel nauseous, sickening feeling in your stomach, as your brain conjured all the things Shindo may have possibly mentioned, "He used to be a friend."

"A friend?" He huffed in disbelief, "You sure did attract pathetic company." He presses against another button, the elevator comes back to life with a loud creak.

Silence fills the space between you both, lots of questions unanswered, "What did he say to you?" Your curiosity wouldn't let you sleep till you find out what happened.

"He strutted into my office called you a bitch and indirectly a whore." He was cold, icy even, when he repeated Shindo's words.

You felt ill, you didn't know if it was due to Shindo's words or Bakugou's reaction. Before you could shuffle out of the elevator he spoke again. "I don't know whatever is going on between you both," He spoke, following your steps out, "but if I hear shit about you, from him or anyone else, I am going to knock their teeths out"

He brisks past you, wide steps carrying him to his office, you continue to stare in his direction, face heating up at his words.

----

Bakugou knew something was wrong, when you didn't show up to work the next day, rationally he knew that you could very well be taking a break but his brain was in overdrive, coming up with crused scenarios, maybe Shindo had found you again, just to get back at him?

Nevertheless, it didn't matter, especially when Bakugou got his car out and sped to your house, running through empty red lights, traffic rules be damned.

He is outside your door, haphazardly knocking, hoping everything is alright. You open the gate, after few minutes, looking slightly disheveled as if you had just rolled out of bed.

"Everything okay? What are you doing here?" You mumbled, slightly concerned at why your boss is outside your front door, 9 in the morning, on your day off.

"Ye' didn't come to work today, thought I'd make sure everything is alright."

You blinked at him slowly, trying to recollect if you had slept through workday or it was actually your day off, "It's Saturday, right?" You asked, he nods in return, "I thought I had today off."

Gear turned in Bakugou's head, as he remembered your schedule, before face palming himself, he cursed under his breath, "I forgot, that's on me, sorry for distributing yer sleep." He walked backwards almost down the hallway way, before stopping when you called for him.

"Wait! Bakugou."

He turned his head around, face warming in embarrassment, as he stopped abruptly, eyes meeting yours.

"Why don't you come inside?" You step out the threshold of your apartment, clad in loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, stance a little uncomfortable but inviting nonetheless.

He turned to face you fully, walking closer till he was right in front of you, moving slightly you have him passage to walk inside.

Your apartment is cozy, small couch in the middle of your living room, with few pillows, he looks slightly comical, his large frame next your smaller furniture.

"Would you like something to drink?" You are already moving towards the kitchen, pulling out a fancy tray from the cabinets, opening a packet of snacks and settling them into smaller plates, "I have water, coffee and...," You squint your eyes slightly, trying to read label of the bottle in the conner of the counter, "...wine which you don't drink so water and coffee and snacks."

You try hard not to think about your rather informal attire, you turn back around, choosing to focus on the coffee, right now you need a cup as well, hands grab the kettle preparing hot water for it. "Why did you come looking for me though?" You ask over your shoulder, still curious as to why he was so worked up.

"Thought Shindo killed ya or something, had to make sure you were alright."

You let out a snort, he finds amusement in the situation too, a shy grin stretching on his lips as he studied you in the comfort of your home. "He wouldn't have killed me," You defended, before pausing and looking over your shoulder at him, "hopefully."

This time he let out a snort, strutting over to stand beside you, he didn't say anything, only observing your mismatched flower patterned cups, variety of small plates, with snacks arranged on them.

"Would you tell me, what really happened for him to act like that?" He questioned, voice soft as he waited for you to speak. He watches you contemplate, fingers fidgeting with the handles of the tray, "You don't have to answer me, if you don't want."

You took a deep breath, before you started to speak, "We were friends, since kindergarten, he always looked after me," You turn towards the kettle, partly to avoid how eyes, partly to pour coffe out in the cups.

"It was all good, uptill few years ago, we shared an apartment, I moved in with him immediately after high school, it was easy on my wallet to split the rent," you speak while pouring the hot drink into cups, mentally chastising yourself, when you accidentally spill on the counter, he stays silent, waiting for you to continue.

"It was fine for a while, then he got in top 20, I prepared whole dinner that day but he didn't show up, infact he didn't come home at that, the rent was paid almost a year in advance and his name was off the lease,"

"I moved out few months later, ever since we run into each other, occasionally, that's all I guess." You conclude, hoping you didn't come across as too pathetic. You turn to look at him, only to end up meeting his eyes, as much as you wanted to shy away, you held the eye contact.

"So, now he goes running around being a little shit." He rasped, hands looking comically large holding onto your tiny cup.

"I texted him, yesterday, to not involve other people into this, hopefully this wouldn't be repeated." You stated, as professionally as you could, but from Bakugou's perspective it wasn't really that, your hairs tousled, miss matched pajamas that you adorned, standing awkwardly in your own kitchen.

"I don't think, he would have pulled any stunt after getting his senses knocked him." You watch as he flexes subtly, toned muscles visible through the thick jacket. "Yet you thought he would have come after me." You teased.

"Oi! I had to make sure." He grunts, voice holding no anger, "I'll get going now, you can go back to bed." He moves out of your kitchen, long steps quickly taking him to the door. "I'll see you on Monday, 'kay." He spoke, turning around, he watches you nod your head, "Words, typewriter."

"See you on Monday, Bakugou."

"Good."

----

You slip out of your work attire, before donning yourself in a red and black lingerie set, something that only looked pretty otherwise it digged into your skin at odd places, overall uncomfortable. Tonight was going to be a long one.

The club was slower than usual, older customers lounging by the counter, chatting up with the bartenders and dancers, as old friends or as something more, you didn't mind this kind of vibe.

You were leaning against the counter, eyeing fellow customer, waiting for them to signal you for drinks, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a large figure hunched over the counter on the other side, you could recognise those blonde spikes anywhere, you wonder what brought him here.

Mari shimmies beside him slightly, the fringes of her cover up getting stuck in his wrist watch as she dances over him, you watch as she tries her luck, leaning over to him, only to be rejected, Mr. Bakugou wasn't here for that it seems.

Bakugou doesn't usually come to places like this, he isn't image conscious, that much is obvious considering the tabloids, it's just lack of time and to be honest, lack of interest.

He doesn't care enough about clubs, strippers and parties and the jazz, he attended his fair share of these when he was younger, fresh-faced rookie hero, now though he isn't into this.

What or rather who he is into is here though, something he recently found out, he doesn't hate you for working here, the idea is only bothersome he knows you don't really like working here, maybe he'll change that tonight.

He looks around carefully, eyes scanning the crowd, when suddenly he feels someone slide onto the seat beside him, he half expects it to be another dancer only to be surprised by your voice instead.

"What are you doing in a place like this?" There is certain charm in the way you handle yourself, because for the first time he sees a different sight of you, sheer cover up barely concealing your lingerie, he watches mesmerized as you pour in drinks, with slight show of skill of course.

"The fuck are you doing here?" He makes a show of it, doesn't let you figure out he was here to see you, that he knew you worked here.

"Working."

He almost gives himself away, snort bubbling in his throat as he wondered if that's your default answer, but nonetheless he has a facade to maintain, little white lies seldom hurt anyone. "Why are ya' working in this sketchy strip club?"

"Pays well." He watch you cringe inwardly, valid reason he concludes.

"What do ya' mean? Don't we pay you enough?" He query is genuine, he does feel a little shitty because he doesn't know what the department does pay you. "Enough to live by Bakugou, not enough to afford me early retirement."

Bakugou can tell that isn't the complete truth, maybe somethings are still kept from him, but he'll figure those out in due time, he suppose. He doesn't get to respond, before you speak again.

"Where you planning on getting lucky tonight?" You snort lightly, eyeing him teasingly.

His face heats up, he was is planning on taking someone home tonight, not for the reason you are assuming though, "None of ya' business, typewriter."

He watches you let out a fit of giggles, before straightening up, reminiscent smile lingering on your face, "Well, I have get back to work now." You stand up, pushing the stool slightly, you don't get a chance to move away though, Bakugou reaches out for you, his hand clasped around your wrist.

"Wait! When do you get off?" He asked, a little breathless, a little desperate, he watches you look around, eyes landing on a wall clock nearby.

"Few hours." You replied, moving slightly as Bakugou shifts to stand in front of you, his frame towering over yours.

"Can ya' not leave early?"

"Where are you gonna take me?"

"There is a hole-in-the-wall diner a block away." You know exactly where he is referring to, it's the same diner he took you to, for your birthday.

"Let me grab my stuff." He watches you strut away, before deciding he'll just follow you. As decent as he is, he still couldn't keep his eyes off you, the black and red lingerie was something he just got to admire, maybe down the lane he'll ask you to wear it again, for now he'll focus on taking you out.

He follows you into the dressing rooms, averting his eyes when you slip out of your cover up. He watches a figure approaching the room through the clear door, stepping out, he prevents him from going in.

"Need help?" His voice is sharp, territorial even, eyes squinted as he glares at the intruder.

"Woah! Calm down man," The guy lifts his hands up in defence, "Was just making sure she was alright, she doesn't go home with customers." Martin, your boss stated, tone even as he challenged Bakugou slightly, he already recognised Bakugou, the blonde hottie of your dreams, still he had to check up on you.

For once, Bakugou approves your choice of friends, he is glad someone, even if this guy, looked after you while you worked in here.

"Good for ya', I am taking her out for dinner," He glances back into the room, watching you pack up, "if she decides to go home with me afterwards, I'll let ya' know."

Martin grins at him, nodding his head before walking back out. You'll be fine. Bakugou watches as you walk towards the door, before he opens it for your.

"You could have waited outside ya' know." You chimed, smile plastered on your cheeks, as you almost skipped towards him. Bakugou reaches over, grabbing the strap of your glittery bag, tugging it over his shoulder.

"Had a word or two with your boss." He looks over your shoulder for a bit before clasping a hand around yours, fingers crossing with yours as you both walked out.

"Hopefully you won't get me fired."

----

"Wait!" You pat his shoulder gently, putting your drink down, "What exactly were you doing in the club." You reach for a fry, eyeing him curiously, both of you perched on the hood of his car, eating burgers and fries.

"Do I have to answer it?" He picks up your drink, lips wrapping around the straw, stained with your lipgloss, "Why do you even get this sugar water?"

"I just wanted to know, I guess." You mumbled, fiddling with the wrapped of your burger, "Heroes have better...establishments in the name of clubs."

"I came looking for you." He looks at you, hand moving closer to your face, as he wipes away the sauce from your lips.

Your eyes widen, "You knew?" Hands falling in your lap, as you tried to think if you ever mentioned it.

"Someone told me about it, someone completely irrelevant by the way," He watches as you connect the dots in your head, lips quirking up in a smile, as you get back to your food.

He could definitely get used to this.

This fic took so long to be done, I ended up adding Shindo at some point, random plot deviation happened, at one point I accidentally deleted the first draft of this, almost set my phone on fire when that happened.

Just realised I didn't even make them kiss, I'll probably continue this later on tbh, apart from that HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY BAKUGOU KATSUKI 🎂🎂🎈🎁🎉🎊.

I have few more fics and ideas drafted poorly I'll get to them in mid May mostly, cause I have exams, that I have not prepared for at all, apart from that hope you all enjoy the fic. I'll also continue this fic in small drabbles, there are still bits and pieces that are missing. Gonna make them kiss in future.

Divider by: @/diviniyae

Tags: @odessa-is-my-queen @2elusional @shotos-angelic-whore @katthekat1234 @runrabbitrun3 @hellokittymochi @gold24fish @emmaafinchh

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kawoala · 8 months ago

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🐰 ⤷ bakugou katsuki ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

⊂ word count ; .5k (551).

⊂ content warning ; profanity 、one bed trope 、bakugou curses a lot 、cuddling 、sleeping 、1ST TIME WRITING FOR BAKUGOU DID I DO GOOD ?? (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)

This is ridiculous.

After being told you were going on a mission in a completely different country, with the one hero you didn’t want to work with, the HPSC didn’t even bother to tell you that there had been budget cuts. Budgets cuts that somehow transferred to the resources allowed to heroes.

Your eyes dart around the room for the nth time before landing on the singular bed dominating the space. Your arms are crossed over your chest, brows pinched together in the middle. “This is ridiculous,” you say, this time out loud.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He walks over to the side of the bed, kicks his boots off, and flops down on the bed face first.

You blink a couple times at the sight. Briefly, you note how good his ass looks in his pants. But you quickly shake that thought away and clear your throat. “Um, what are you doing?”

“Sleepin’,” he mumbles, though muffled. You can tell by the way he’s acting that he is exhausted. Usually, he’d spit some insult-that’s-not-really-an-insult at you and then ignore you for the rest of the night. Him giving you genuine answers is a bit weird for you.

“Okay.” You nod once, slowly, pursing your lips. “Right, yeah, sure. So, where am I supposed to sleep, then?”

With a groan that’s a little more dramatic than needed, he sits up and looks at you. “For fucks sake, I don’t bite, Y/n.” He slaps the space next to him and you watch dust appear in the air. “Sleep here, or sleep on the floor. I don’t really give a shit. I’m tired as fuck.”

And he just flops back down and rolls over. In a matter of mere seconds, you can hear soft snores escaping him. Your lips part in a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

Eventually, your legs feel like they’re about to give out. You trudge your way over to the bed and carefully sit down. You don't want to wake him, but judging on the way he’s snoring, you’re not sure you’ll ever wake him up.

As soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light. All the tiredness from the day washes away— the plane, the two trains, the bus. All the people who recognized Bakugou and not you.

And then you wake up. The blinking alarm clock reads 1:21 AM. on, off, on, off, on— you look away. Your eyes land on Bakugou’s sleeping figure. His brows are furrowed even now, like he’s having a bad dream, and—

Oh. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him. For a moment, you’re still. You don’t know what to do. Should you move him? Would that wake him up? Should you pretend to sleep and wait until he wakes up so he can move himself?

You look at his face again. He’s pretty like this, you think. Lips parted slightly, cheek squished against the pillow, hair askew.

While you don’t move your arm, you do shift a little in your spot. His hold on you tightens and he draws you closer to him, exhaling heavily. You bring a hand up to his face and push his hair back.

You don’t hate Katsuki, no matter what the press says.

TAGLIST: @aozui @cherrysurf @sweetlyvibe

#kawoala #my hero academia #first time writing for bakugou…#boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #one bed trope

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yowumi · 9 months ago

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underground boxer katsuki bakugou x nurse f! reader [ modern au ] TW. angst & smut

Underground boxer Katsuki Bakugou x Nurse F! Reader

Summary. Underground boxer Katsuki Bakugou who grew up watching his father fight in the ring, seeing the way men get knocked down just from the strikes of his fathers fist made his heart pump, he wanted to feel that adrenaline rush. Since then his father has passed and he fought his way into the life of a boxer. He wasn’t raised to be cared for or enjoy relying on other people, so why is it that he can’t wait for you to patch him up?

Warnings. Fighting, Violence, Slight gore (nothing too serious), Angst (not as much as i thought there would be) Crying, Smut, Masterbation, Obsession, Bakugou has lowkey never felt the touch of a woman, etc. (Not too much smut really)

DISCLAIMER: Characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

A/N. this won the vote, i hope you guys enjoy (I love angsty shit) there’s implied smut and masterbation althought it isn’t very heavy. Ive been recovering from the hurricane that has been passing so I kinda brainstormed this and quick wrote in in 3 days, I hope you guys enjoy and stay safe with all the crazy weather happening <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

One hit to the left, another to the right, 3 hits to the left and STRIKE. A man down.

Katsuki can feel the man get back up in hesitation, seeing his legs threatening to fall yet katsuki was untouched having the man on defense the whole round. What a sad component and this is supposed to be one of the best?

What a joke.

Taking katsuki lost in pride for granted, the man strikes him with a punch straight to the jaw, katsuki laughs already drunk of the adrenaline of such an unexpected move from someone as pathetic as him.

“atta girl, you’ve finally put your big girl pants on, i see” he teased the man, only making his rage stronger.

the guy comes charging at him in full rage, giving katsuki the advantage and knocking the man straight out leaving the man to hit the floor in a thump.

“yeah katsuki, you get his ass!” Kirishima cheers on from the bleachers knowing he’s up next.

Kirishima throws him his towel, “you make it hard for me to top that” and Katsuki gives a small glance of acknowledgment.

Katsuki wasn’t very talkative or perhaps he was talkative, but not very friendly. Although, Kirishima was someone he respected, he had known him since middle school so he’s friendly in his own way.

As Katsuki chugs down his water, some spilling on his chin, As stain begins to walk around the court, coming closer to Katsuki. Stain was known for his intense boxing skills, leaving some of them with eternal injuries that were fatal for many.

But Katsuki couldn’t give one shit. He had never met nor cared enough to listen to who he was, he hated the way he walked in like he owned the place, with that smug grin of his. God, he just wanted to punch that stupid look off his face.

“Who the hell is that runt” Katsuki orders answers from Kirishima, feeling the adrenaline rush comeback to him.

Kirishima gives off a small laugh, He wondered how Katsuki really didn’t know who he was, the guy was basically famous in the underground world.

“That’s Stain, he’s one of the best” Kirishima starts standing up knowing Katsuki’s temper might get the best of him, “He’s one of the guys you might not want to mess with in here, heard he’s killed a few.” He warned.

Stain notices the angry blonde haired man staring at him with hatred, in fact, Stain noticed from the second he walked in. He’s heard a lot about this new upcoming boxer ‘bakugou’, Katsuki being known for his punches being referred to as a ‘bomb’ or ‘explosion’, knocking his opponent’s out in one blow.

“Yeah, well it seems that bitch has a staring problem, he’s been staring at me like he wants my ass ever since he’s walked in.”

Katsuki begins to make his way over to Stain with nails in his fists as he hears Kirishima chase after him, “Hey katsuki wait- hold on now, you aren’t thinking man!”

“I’m just gonna put it out straight, I don’t like you or the way you walk around like you own everyone, so quit staring at me, will you!” Katsuki yells out at him with his usual annoyed aggression.

“Ah Bakugou, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve heard plenty, nice to finally meet you” Stain says giving a nonchalant and unreadable expression on him.

“I don’t care, i’ll care enough to know who you are if you can beat me in the ring.”

Stain thinks about his offer, “Hm, I guess we should settle this in the ring then Mr. Bakugou” He says giving one of his smirks that ticks Katsuki off.

“Yeah whatever, when I win, you’ll have to take your old ass away from here, maybe take yourself to a nursing home while you’re at it, grandma!” Katsuki yells at the man.

“And if I win?” Stain raises a brow. Kirishima sends a worried expression towards Bakugou, In which he ignores.

“You can take my spot in the ring for good or my ass, I don’t care, it’s not like I’ll lose anyways,” Katsuki says over confidently.

“If I win, you Katsuki Bakugou, will have to retire early.”

“Bet that.”

“I’ll see you in 7 months.” And like that it was settled.

They shake on it and go their separate ways.

Kirishima and Katsuki walk out into the dark alley in their usual comfortable silence before Kirishima finally breaks it,

“I don’t have a good feelings about this Katsuki, the guys dangerous and you both are putting your lives on the line” He expresses his concern.

“Every time we step into that ring we put our life on the line, this is no different, he is nothing special, quit worrying about it already.” Katsuki brushes him off.

Kirishima stares away as if he’s biting his tongue trying not to say what’s on his mind, Katsuki notices.

“If it’s bothering you that much, just come out and say it already, jeez” Katsuki says annoyed putting his hands in his pockets and stops walking.

“Well…maybe it isn’t a bad idea for you to retire early, you’re an amazing fighter, i’m not saying this because i think you aren’t good but because you have potential to get out of this place, you aren’t too deep in yet, you can still have a way out and live a good life, I don’t want you dying in here.” Kirishima feels relived finally getting that off his chest.

“Fighting is all I know, there’s nothing else for me, that’s just stupid, why the hell would i quit for a simple life like that when i could be rocking people’s shit and ego’s to the ground and you have a baby on the way with your girl, if anything you should be taking your own advice.”

Kirishima goes quiet, he knows he isn’t the person to be speaking about that subject when he knows Katsuki is right. They both needed help. Though they would never admit that.

With that they say their goodbyes to each other waving each other off as they go their separate ways.

Katsuki walks his way home on his usual route before he sees the same white van pass by him 3 times now, which stands out in the darkness of the night. He stares it down annoyed by it already before the van stops.

Katsuki takes his hands out of his pockets getting ready to take on whoever the hell is in that van.

Before he could react a guy comes up from behind him pressing a knife slashing against his rib leaving a huge scar of blood across his stomach. “Fuck! Come here, I’ll fucking kill you bitch!”

The man who stabbed him was covered in all black, jumping his way into the van before it drives off in a rush, Katsuki holds his wound with little complaints: to be fair, it isn’t the first time he’s been stabbed.

He walks his way home holding a hand against his stomach, figuring he will fix it up once he gets home with some alcohol and gauze.

Before he could reach his block he starts to feel his vision blur and the world starts spinning, before he hits the ground harshly, bleeding out onto the floor.

and just like that, he’s out.

“Oh my! Don’t worry sir, I’ll call an ambulance right now! They are on their way!” Katsuki heard an elderly woman’s voice say in a panic as he blacked out, barely remaining conscious.

He woke up in the hospital.

He hates hospitals, he hated the sounds of the beeping, he hated the pathetic ass nightgowns, he hated the nurses that think they can fix everything, he hated being taken care of.

It was pathetic, he thought.

He gets up to walk out the room, taking out the shit the doctors have injected in him with no reaction. Before he reaches the door handle a young women opens the door.

You smile at him, “Oh it seems you’re awake Mr. Bakugou, how are you feeling?”, sending him a comforting arm around his waist, directing him back towards his bed with a light expression.

Katsuki doesn’t move your hand, he just sits back down. What drugs did they give him, holy shit.

“Don’t worry, the slash in your rib wasn’t too deep and was an easy stitch, you will only be left with a scar. It seems you were already bleeding and bruised all over your body before you were cut, can you explain what happened last night for me sir?” you look up at him from your stool.

You looked like an angel, he thought maybe he died.

What the hell, why is he thinking these things?

“Got stabbed that’s all, can i get out of here now” He says looking away, deciding your eyes on him we’re making him not think properly.

How long has it been since a woman was nice to him? or looked at him like that? Had a woman ever shown concern for him before?

You let out a soft laugh at his desperation to get out, “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be long sir, I would just like to hold you here a bit longer to ask you some questions and make sure you heal properly!”

“Okay” He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, your laugh was mesmerizing. He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

As the days go by, you helped him change his bandages, watched over him, helped him get up, even though the feeling of your touch on his bare chest made him see stars.

In this time he also learned about you, how they were the same age, how you became a doctor because of your mother who was sick and noticed how your coffee was always cold.

On the fourth and final day you were changing his bandages once again, “Mr. Bakugou” You say grabbing his attention.

“You can call me Katsuki, don’t like being called that.” he stated out, he wasn’t in his annoyed state as often when he was with you.

“Okay, Katsuki…May I ask what you do for a living, I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it but you’re bruised and cut everywhere and some look old and others look recent, all look different from one another, I’m concerned.” you say while running your fingers around the bruises and cuts examining them with your eyes.

“Why?” He asks

“Why what?” You ask, confused.

“Why are you concerned?” He was genuinely confused, Why were you so careful and concerned about him? Why did you take care of him like this?

“Because I’m your nurse, Katsuki, it’s my job” you say not thinking of anything of it, you were his nurse. Of course you noticed how beautiful he was, and how you found it cute when he looked down like a kid in trouble when he would slightly raise his tone at you, and maybe you did like his company a bit but you were his nurse, right? you had only know him for a few days, it’s just part of the job, right?

Katsuki looks away.

How could be so stupid.

It was your job, there was no reason behind any of it or feelings, you’re a nurse, he is your patient. Why did he feel so disappointed in your answer? Why was he expecting more from you, what was wrong with him.

You notice the change in expression as you finish wrapping him up,

“Did i say something wrong or accidentally hurt you? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t go prying like that, your business is your business Mr. Bakugou.”

“You are fine, think i’m ready to be let out though.” He says not maintaining eye contact as he puts his shirt on getting ready to leave.

“Oh, I understand. You are already signed for release but I will walk you out!” you offer with a smile hoping to cheer him up.

“I’m good, I’ve got it.” He says while walking out.

And just like that, you were gone.

But you weren’t, not from his mind. For the 3 weeks he would think about you constantly, craving the way you held his waist and body like a fragile piece of glass, missing your sweet laugh and comforting smile, the thought of you lingered inside his mind and soul, leaving him distracted constantly. Which was new for Katsuki.

He got in the ring, yet his mind felt so far away from it. Your face in his head, playing back the few days you spent together, as your patient. He needed to take a few shots before the round, just to get his mind off you.

He didn’t want that to be the last time he felt your warmth and hospitality. He wanted more, he wanted to be embraced in it.

Just like that he sent a striking punch to his opponent, another easy day, although he had some blood on his hands.

He never went to the hospital, he hates hospitals.

He can take care of himself, and it was a small bleeding and the usual fracture and pain of getting hurt out there.

So why did he drive his way to the hospital and specifically request that only you could check to see if his hand was broken?

When he saw your face he immediately felt the warmth in his chests, like a hole had been filled in it. Like it wasn’t empty anymore.

The way your hands felt examining his hands, tracing your fingers all over his big veiny hands.

In which you noticed, you had never noticed his hands before, how much bigger they were than yours or how much taller he was than you that you suddenly started to realize.

Or the way he looked at you like you were an angel sent down just for him.

Suddenly you felt suffocated and trapped by his stare, feelings nervous, why did you feel nervous with a patient?

“Come with me, Mr. Bakugou, I’ll get you examined right away” You say looking into his eyes

He nods and follows you to a room where he sits down and watches you as you examine his hands, not taking his eyes off you, feeling like the world has paused now that he’s with you again.

Like nothing else matters.

Is this what Kirishima was talking about?

Is this the simple life, simple needs, he needed you, but he loved that he needed you? He wanted more, more, more.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, right?

“did you get bangs?” he asked now noticing the change of appearance, it looked good on her.

You blushed, surprised that he would notice something like that. “I did, im surprised you noticed.” Why did you feel so jittery all of a sudden?

“I like them.” He compliments you.

“Thank you, Mr. Bakugou.” You respond slightly losing composure as your face turns a light red at his compliments.

“Makes you look more mature, it’s sexy” He says without thinking, it was like he couldn’t control his thoughts today.

You wonder if you heard him right, his face showed no expression so you figured you misheard. “What happened to your hand today?” You ask taking advantage of how talkative he is today compared to the last time you talked.

“It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about” He looks down at you, his heart felt heavy, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

He wanted you to take care of him in all the places he needed you.

He wanted you to touch him more, he needed it.

Before thinking he leaned down to press his lips against yours in the dark room.

And you let him. For a few seconds, you wanted to enjoy it, entranced in the moment.

You let his tongue enter your mouth and hold your cheek, letting him enter your mouth before coming back to reality, you were at work. Anyone could walk in.

And then you taste it.

The alcohol on his breath wasn’t something you could ignore.

No.

This was wrong on so many levels, he is your patient. you shouldn’t take advantage on him.

you push him off.

After you allow yourself to catch your breathe and see bakugou wait for you to say something, did he do something wrong?

“I think you should be assigned a new nurse.” you say. “I’ll have nurse jenna come and check you out, I don’t feel this is an appointment thing to do as your nurse.”

“Wait- what? I don’t want a new nurse, I requested you.” He said in slight sadness in his eyes, he had came here for you.

“I am sorry, Mr. Bakugou.” You say walking out.

He had no interest being in this hospital any longer if you weren’t taking care of him, he walked out back to his home.

His home that he lived alone in.

He sat in his bed still a bit tipsy, he fucked everything up didn’t he? He scared you off just because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.

And yet he can’t feel sorry he did it.

He would do it again.

He would do anything to feel your lips against his again, he took the bottle of liquor near his bed and pressed it to his lips.

He wanted to taste you again.

And just like that Katsuki slid a hand down his chest, the same way you would, trying to mimic the way you did.

He let himself do that, not rushing, doing it slowly just how you would. He closes his eyes, imagining it was you.

Before he slides his hand down to his lower stomach, going even slower, hesitating.

This was so wrong.

But it felt so fucking good.

He pressed his palm over his sweatpants, rubbing the bulge in his pants to ease it some.

Before he slowly slid his hands in his pants, the same hands you touched.

He stroked himself over his boxers. feeling the precum already start to leak from him.

He felt so overstimulated.

He just needed you.

Just let him have tonight to think of you this way, it will be the last time, he promises.

…

1 Month Later.

Match after Match.

It was all he could do to get his mind away from you, before it was you taking his mind away from the matches.

One punch after another, he couldn’t stop fighting, He needed to keep fighting.

He found himself becoming even more aggressive, even shutting out Kirishima completely, as Kirishima became more concerned coming closer by the day to retiring.

He also found himself drinking more.

He never really was a drinker, he just wanted to numb the thoughts of you.

“Get me my usual” he demands the bartender as he slides some cash across the table.

“Alright sir, i’m just gonna need some Identification to confirm your over the age of 21.”

“You guys don’t usually ask for that, You’ve known me long enough to know i’m of age, now just get me it, i’m not in the mood” He says growing irritated.

“I’m sorry sir, but our new policy requires us to check everytime.”

“Well I don’t have my ID on me so can’t you just take a rain check or something.” Katsuki says growing even more annoyed by the second.

“I’m afraid I cannot sell you any alcohol until I see some ID, i’m going to need you to leave” The bartender slides him back his cash.

This ticks Katsuki off and he loses it. He randomly punches a guy who was walking in the bar as he starts to head out.

The guy turns towards him in anger, much bigger than katsuki

“What are you looking at big guy, you want a kiss or something, fuck off” He says now yelling.

The guys says to take this outside and little did Katsuki know that the man had a gun on him.

BOW!

one shot barely grazing his skin near the left side of his stomach and the pressure of the bullet sends Katsuki stepping back before the man comes at him with full force, bruising him.

Next thing he knows he’s in a corner of an alley beaten up half to death before he sees a familiar face.

He sees you.

He must have died.

How are you here?

“Katsuki! Is that you? What happened, It’s okay, I’ll take of you now just stay conscious for me please! your badly injured!” You say as you try to keep your composure but tears end up spilling out anyways. You try and pick up his body weight as he slouches against you as you take him to your apartment.

You lay him down on your couch carefully, thankfully he was only grazed so it wasn’t anything too major but he was still beaten up pretty badly.

You take care of him, you both don’t look nor say anything to each other. Before Katsuki stops your movements, placing a soft hand on your wrists.

“I’m so sorry.” he says looking you now in the eye with something you’ve never seen before. Not that angry or annoyed look, he seemed hurt, genuine, desperate.

It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t like you weren’t thinking of him too, it isn’t like you disliked the shared kiss between the two of you. It wasn’t like you weren’t waiting on him, as well.

maybe you needed him just as much as he needed you.

You were so lost in your thoughts you didn’t even realize Bakugou was now crying against your chest softly and quietly, holding onto your waist.

You held him.

Before you could think anymore, you pressed soft kisses against his forehead and ran your hands through his hair.

He looked up with you with teary eyes, “I get so angry constantly, I don’t even mean it, I never think before i do anything, please tell me if i’m doing this wrong. Don’t act accordingly, I don’t want to be your patient.”

“You aren’t my patient, Katsuki. I want you.” you say trying to reassure him as you cup his face, and he gives you a boyish expression as if he’s relieved by your answer.

“Please let me take care of you.” You look down at him desperately wanting to tend to his wounds, his hand is twitching.

Little does she knows it’s because he is nervous, not injured.

he nods and lets you.

You trace your fingers around his hands, this time more carefully, you kiss his fingers after wrapping his hands as he watches, never taking his eyes off you.

You’re kissing the same hands he used to jerk off to you.

He finds himself growing aroused at the thought, you were on top of him, he tried his best to contain his dick and not be such a guy.

Before you could think twice, you looked hard at his fingers before taking two in your mouth, kissing his finger tips as you stare at him.

You knew what it was doing to him.

You felt Katsuki grow under you, he felt big. You could feel him twitch as you took 2 fingers into your mouth, softly sucking.

You slowly begin to grind against the bulge under you as he grabs your hips holding you against him as he struggles not to let his eyes fall to the back of his head.

You begin to crouch over to him getting ready to take his pants off before he stops you.

“No” He says bluntly.

“Wha-“ you didn’t finish your sentence before he flipped you over with no effort, hovering over you now.

“I want to be the one to take care of you now.” He says looking down at your body like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

He placed a soft peck kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” He says softly moaning against the skin of your neck before softly kissing the skin.

You blush under him and look away, he turns your face towards him. “Please don’t look away from me, want to look at your face while i take care of you, angel”

You nod in obedience and open your arms away from your chest to give him room to work his way down.

He kisses the softness of your collar bones, he thinks he’s never been this gentle in his life, it felt so easy being gentle with you, like he didn’t have to hold up his rude boy attitude with you.

He looked up for you to search for any discomfort, making sure you were perfectly comfortable as he did this. He took a hand to your chest and laid a soft firm grab, unbuttoning your shirt.

He leaves your bra on as he places his mouth over the soft plush skin of your breasts, playing with your nipples giving it a gentle twists loving the way your arch against him and let out a small whine when he touches you.

He loved that he was calling you pleasure, not harm.

“Katsuki, I need you.” The way you moaned out his name had him struggling to keep himself calm.

He wanted to hear more of it, just like that.

“i know, baby” He says while taking all your clothes off before removing his own as well.

That night he took care of you, in every way you needed. He wanted to return the favor you gave to him so many times. He would do it over and over again, He felt like a dog, loyal to you in every way.

…

The day of the Fight.

5 months later.

Stain enters the ring confidently as fans cheered loudly ranting on, some even making bets on who would die in the ring tonight.

Katsuki walks out onto the ring, blocking out all noises around him, his mind only on his fiancé (you) at home thinking he was asleep.

God, she would kill me if she found out, he thought to himself.

He hasn’t been in this ring since the day you’ve made love, he decided to completely devote himself to be a better man for you.

He just couldn’t miss this fight, and honestly if he did he probably would’ve been killed for it or worst they would’ve hurt you considering the fact that Stain was most likely the one who sent that man to stab him that day.

“You ready to get your ass beat, kid” Stain said spitting on the ground they walked on.

“Give me all you’ve got, old man”

And like that the match started, blow after blow, both stain and Katsuki going at each others throats, not backing down on anything, fighting for dominance in the ring.

Before Katsuki takes the high ground now finding a weak spot, landing a sharp punch sending a shock to Stain, earning a cocky chuckle from him

“Not bad, kid”

Katsuki takes this chance to come at full power, not giving Stain time to get up or reclaim his place, he knocks him down to the ground.

RIGHT.

LEFT.

He cockily laughs feeling himself getting cocky and drunk over the adrenaline of this before his mind runs back to you, a home to go back to.

He has a home to go back to.

He wants to come home to you, safe and sound, he doesn’t want you to cry or see him hurt, He wanted to be the one to take care of you.

Stain took Katsukis distraction to his advantage before pinning him to the ground harshly, making Katsuki groan. That’s gonna leave a bruise on his back.

Stain gets up and hangs on the ring.

No more.

He hears your voice, your sweet gentle voice.

Enough.

Katsuki could have easily gotten up. He easily could have dodged Stain. He easily could have beat him, claiming the title of number one.

BANG.

Stain jumped on top of Katsuki’s body landing a finishing fist on Katsuki’s chest before it hits the ground next to him, almost grazing him.

He missed.

He missed?

Why didn’t he hit him?

“What the hell” Katsuki yells out in confusion.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, kid. Your friend over there saved your ass, You both got something to go home to, don’t die here.”

Kirishima.

That little bastard saved his ass.

And just like that the match was over, Katsuki let Stain win.

This would be Katsuki’s last match.

Stain was right.

He had something to go home to, a beautiful woman who cared about him and that he was crazy about. He had a life ahead of him.

No title is worth more than that.

You were his home.

…

A/N. Apologies for the rushed and corny ending lowkey 😭 I have my mind set on a gojo fic at the moment that i am trying to work up the courage to write so i’ve been preoccupied, reblogs and notes are appreciated !! This isn’t proof read so srry if there’s any mistakes

#my hero academia #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha

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delusionalmultilingual · 1 year ago

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Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.

In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.

It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.

So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.

It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.

'Come here.'

That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.

In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.

She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.

When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.

"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.

The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.

All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.

"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.

His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."

"Don't talk down to yourself."

Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.

His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.

Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.

"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."

You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.

His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.

Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.

You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.

Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.

God he hated when you did that.

This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )

Now officially edited and proofread

Should I make this a story?

#mha headcanons #mha #mha x reader #mha fluff #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha angst #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader

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peachversace · 4 months ago

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fashion killa

chapter two ; and fall into you

[nsfw] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 20,014 — read on ao3 — read part one on tumblr

tags: strangers to lovers, friends with benefits, pro hero bakugou katsuki, explicit language & sexual content, aged-up characters, porn with plot, model!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, bakugou is a soft yearning idiot who i want to eat up, kirishima eijirou is a good friend, not beta read!

summary:

Fashion Week was supposed to be simple-walk the runway, collect your check, and, if all went according to plan, spend the night with Pro Hero Dynamight. Just a little fun. Nothing more. But getting rid of Bakugou Katsuki proves to be harder than slipping out of a too-tight sample size.

Or, in which a one-night stand with one of Japan's most famous men turns into a relentless game of cat and mouse-and the worst part? You don't hate it.

notes:

the final chapter is here! thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter—it really means a lot to me. this was supposed to go up on sunday, but i didn��t like the ending, so i changed it last minute lol. i hope you guys like it and that it lives up to your expectations. thank you in advance, and happy reading!

enjoy! :D

Things get stranger after that night, but not in a way you could have anticipated.

You and Katsuki seem to grow closer, slipping into each other’s lives with an ease that feels both natural and unsettling. It's not what you expected. You thought things would stay casual. But there’s a shift now—something in the way you reach for your phone more often, his name lighting up the screen with more frequency.

It starts with simple things. He calls you more, which surprises you because Katsuki’s never been one for chit-chat, but his voice on the other end of the line feels steady, grounding. You catch yourself waiting for those calls, anticipating the sound of his gruff voice grumbling about some villain he had to deal with or asking how your day went. It's not just calls either. Texts come in, pictures too. You send him photos of you in a photoshoot, all glammed up in haute couture, and he replies with short, dry comments, ‘Looking good,’ or ‘Too fancy.’ But you can tell he's looking, really looking. You send pictures from the gym, hair tied back, sweat glistening on your skin. And in return, Katsuki sends you his own pictures. They’re blurry sometimes, like he doesn’t know how to properly frame a shot, and he always scowls in them, half his face obscured.

He grumbles, “Ain’t good at this photo crap,” but you can see the effort. It’s adorable, especially when he sends you pictures from bed, messy hair and bare chest, a hint of vulnerability in the way the camera captures him. You wonder if he realizes how soft he looks.

You start spending more time together too—more than you’d planned for. It’s not always about the sex now, though that’s still a big part of it. But there’s a sweetness in how you share space. Sometimes, it’s cooking together, and he’ll stand beside you, watching your every move with that sharp focus he has for everything. Other times, it’s movies, the two of you sprawled out on the couch, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. Katsuki’s not great with words, not in the way some people are, but he doesn’t need to be. His actions speak for him—whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable or tossing a blanket over you when you doze off mid-movie.

The softness between you is unexpected. You’ve seen his gruff, explosive exterior, the way the media paints him as some sort of untouchable force. But here, with you, he’s different. He’s cuddly, something you never would’ve expected from him. He pulls you close without hesitation, his arms firm and warm, always keeping you near. You don’t question it, but it throws you off. This wasn’t what you signed up for—this quiet intimacy that feels more like a relationship than something casual. He’s not supposed to be so sweet, so soft.

One thing that surprises you most is how much he enjoys taking pictures with you.

You’d never have guessed the gruff, no-nonsense Pro Hero would indulge in such a thing, especially when he’s always grumbling about media shoots and press. But when you’re in one of his hoodies, and you tug him down to take a selfie, your hand gently curling around his jaw, he leans in without protest. There’s this small, content smile that tugs at his lips—subtle but real, and it lights up his face in a way that makes your heart skip. You snap the picture, and he’ll grumble, “Didn’t ask for this,” but you catch him later, zooming in on the photo, his thumb lingering over the screen. There’s a softness in his eyes as he looks at the two of you together.

He’s not one for skincare, either, but when you do face masks or anything remotely involving pampering, he sits there and lets you do it, his face a picture of calm contentment. His quirk may have blessed him with great skin, but he indulges you, letting you push his wild hair back with a fluffy headband, revealing his sharp features. You prep his face, and he just watches you with half-lidded eyes, relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before. He doesn’t even protest when you lean down and kiss him in the middle of it, his lips curving into a small, lazy smile. It’s cute how unbothered he is, how he lets you do whatever you want to him.

You’ve gotten more comfortable with each other in general.

More touching, more kissing, and sex has become something deeper. It’s no longer just an outlet, no longer just physical. It’s a way for the two of you to connect, to be closer. There’s a vulnerability in how he touches you, how his hands roam your body with a quiet reverence. When he presses against you, his skin flush against yours, you feel it—the way his guard drops, the way he lets himself need you in those moments. Your head will fall back, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, his mouth warm and insistent, before his firm hand finds your face, guiding you back to him for another kiss. You feel like you’re floating in those moments, lost in the press of his body, the sound of his voice, and the way he holds you as if you’re something precious.

One night, after several rounds of unraveling each other, Katsuki does something he’s never done before—he opens up. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as he starts to talk about the Final War. You weren’t prepared for the weight of it. He tells you about being sent to the frontlines as a child soldier, about how his heart ruptured, the physical agony and the fear that came with it. His right arm, crushed beyond recognition, left him scarred—inside and out. He talks about rehab, about how long it took him to get his arm functioning again.

And then, in a softer tone, he admits something that surprises you: “I still wanna be number one... but I’m content, y’know? With where I’m at right now.”

You’re lying beside him, his hand heavy on your waist, and you look up at him. His face is dimly lit, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes your heart twist. “I think you’re amazing,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure, your fingers reaching up to gently curl around his jaw, pulling him down for a kiss. It’s slow and sweet, and when you pull away, his cheeks are flushed, a faint pink creeping across his skin.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, embarrassed, but you can see the small, content smile tugging at his lips again, the same one he gives you in those quiet moments when his guard is down.

You smile back, your heart swelling in your chest as you kiss him again. There’s a softness to this moment, to him, and it feels like something has shifted between you. Something you can’t quite put into words yet, but it’s there, lingering in the air, unspoken but undeniable.

But then there’s a pause, a hesitation. Katsuki’s expression changes, and when he speaks again, it’s quieter. "You’re the one that’s amazin'," he repeats, his voice low, almost like he’s afraid to say it too loudly. The way his words hang between you makes your heart do a strange little flip. You can feel the weight of them.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him a teasing smile to ease the tension. "What, for walking in 120 mm heels or for letting you do facemasks with me?" you whisper, fingers brushing the scar on his cheek, tracing the jagged line that’s become so familiar to you now.

He huffs, but there’s a flicker of something more behind his eyes. "Nah," he says, shaking his head. "For bein’ you. For workin’ hard as hell, doin’ all this stuff, and still bein’ able to… to put up with me."

The words hit you harder than you expect. You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. You hadn’t realized he saw it that way—like he was a burden, like being with him was something difficult to endure. There’s a vulnerability in the way he avoids your gaze, his usual cocky demeanor gone, leaving just Katsuki—raw and exposed in front of you.

"You’re making it sound like I’m putting up with someone from hell," you say, your voice softer now, trying to coax his eyes back to yours.

He grumbles again, that same frustrated sound, but he still doesn’t look at you, and that’s when you realize just how much he doubts himself. How much he carries with him—his past, his insecurities, the weight of being a Pro Hero. And for the first time, you see how deeply it cuts him, how much he worries that he’s too much for anyone to handle.

"Hey," you whisper, your hand gently guiding his face back to you. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and his eyes, reluctant at first, finally meet yours. "I like putting up with you. You always think so bad about yourself. Stop doing that. Sometimes people just want to be around you, to spend time with you. It’s not weird, and I like spending time with you."

Katsuki’s cheeks flare up with a faint blush, his ears turning a little red at your words. He scoffs again, the sound almost automatic, like he’s trying to shake off the embarrassment. "You’re fuckin’ clingy," he mutters, but the bite in his tone is weak. His eyes flicker with something softer, something grateful.

You grin at him, laughter bubbling up in your chest. "Says the man that’s clinging to me like glue." You lean up on your elbow a little, your smile widening. "I have the pictures to prove it, by the way."

Before you can react, he’s turning his head and biting lightly at your fingers where they rest on his jaw, his teeth just grazing your skin in a teasing nip. It sends a small jolt through you, and you laugh softly, falling back into the pillows, your chest rising and falling with quiet giggles as you look up at him.

Katsuki’s grinning now, a real grin that lights up his face, his usual intensity tempered with affection. He leans down closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you can feel the way his body relaxes against yours. There’s no distance between you—no walls, no masks. Just you and him, sharing the space in a way that feels... real.

"What?" you whisper, still smiling as you reach up to smooth a hand through his messy hair. "Is my skin glowing or something?"

Katsuki scoffs lightly at your teasing, though there’s a small tug of a smile at the corner of his lips. His crimson eyes stay locked on yours, searching your face with an intensity that always makes your heart race. The heat of his body radiates against you, and even though you’re joking, there’s a flicker of something deeper in the way he holds your gaze, something vulnerable he’s still not used to sharing.

"Yeah, sure, your skin’s glowin’," he mutters, his voice rough but soft, leaning down closer. "From all those dumb facemasks you make me do." His lips brush your temple, but the grin on his face betrays his usual gruffness.

You laugh, a light sound that melts between the two of you in the dimly lit room. "Dumb facemasks that you enjoy way too much," you fire back, playfully nudging him. "Don’t think I don’t notice how relaxed you get."

He grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but there’s no real bite behind it. His hand, rough from years of hero work, trails absentmindedly along your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, sending tiny shivers down your spine. His touch is softer than you ever expected when you first got involved with him, but now it’s familiar—comforting in its warmth and weight.

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, the usual fire in them dimmed into something warmer, more intimate. "Maybe," he mutters, his voice low. "But I like you better without all that makeup anyway."

The simplicity of the statement, the raw honesty of it, makes your heart squeeze. You let out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly as you press a kiss to his lips, slow and lingering. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away, his forehead resting against yours.

There’s a stillness in the room now, a sense of peace that settles between the two of you. It feels like the world outside doesn’t exist, like all the noise and chaos of your lives as pro heroes and public figures has melted away. In this moment, it’s just you and Katsuki—no expectations, no pressure. Just the quiet, simple warmth of being together.

"You're an idiot," you whisper playfully, breaking the silence as you tap his chest lightly, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin as he presses another soft kiss to your forehead. "Guess I am for you."

Katsuki's words make your heart skip a beat, and you have to bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to break through. The way he says it—so casually yet so earnestly—makes warmth bloom in your chest. You’re not used to this side of him, this softness that he reserves just for you.

“What are your plans tomorrow?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to disturb the peace between you.

You think for a moment before replying, "Well… I have Pilates in the morning, and then I’m getting my nails done. Do you have any suggestions?" You stretch your arms lazily above your head, watching him with a playful glint in your eye.

Katsuki shrugs, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and you can’t help but let out a soft sigh as your fingers instinctively move to scratch his scalp. The sound he makes in response—a low, content rumble—reminds you of a cat purring, and it makes you smile. He presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips warm against your skin, before mumbling, “Dunno. Whatever makes you feel good.”

You grin, already knowing what will get a reaction out of him. “So if it’s an ugly purple color, you’ll be okay with it?”

As expected, he makes a face, his brows furrowing in clear disapproval. The corner of your mouth twitches in amusement as you roll your eyes. "Don’t worry, I’ll probably go for a nude pink," you murmur, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his. The closeness between you feels so natural now, like a second skin. "And then I have a meeting with my agent about being a brand ambassador for an upcoming label, but I’m still thinking about it. That’s all."

He hums, a low sound of acknowledgment vibrating through his chest, and then you return the question. "What about you?"

"Got the day off," he says after a beat, his voice a little hesitant as if he’s testing the waters. "Thought… thought maybe I’d cook for ya or somethin’." His fingers brush against your lower back, the warmth of his touch drawing you even closer. It’s so subtle, the way he pulls you in, but it feels like he’s trying to close any remaining distance between your bodies. "Make ya those sushi rolls you liked. The ones you had in the US."

The way he remembers something so small, something you mentioned offhandedly during a trip, makes your breath hitch slightly. It’s not just the gesture itself—it’s the meaning behind it. How vulnerable and open he’s become with you, how he always wants to do things for you, to make sure you’re comfortable. His actions say what his words sometimes struggle to—how much he cares, even if he’s not always good at expressing it.

You swallow, the emotions swirling inside you making your chest feel tight in the best way possible. "You don’t have to do all that, Katsuki," you say softly, your fingers tracing small circles along his shoulder, feeling the strength and warmth beneath his skin. "But I’d love it. You know I’d never say no to your cooking."

He grumbles, his usual tough exterior showing through even in moments like this. "Yeah, well, don’t expect it all the time," he mutters, but the way his fingers tighten slightly on your back tells you he’s already looking forward to it. He likes taking care of you, even if he’ll never admit it outright.

You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering there for a moment. His skin is warm, and the simple act of affection makes him relax even more against you, like he’s letting go of something heavy he’s been holding on to.

"I’m looking forward to it," you whisper, and the sincerity in your voice seems to catch him off guard. He looks up at you, his usual sharp gaze softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment. There’s something vulnerable in his eyes, something that makes your heart ache in a way that’s both beautiful and terrifying.

"Yeah," he says, his voice rough but tender. "Me too."

And in that moment, with the quiet warmth of the room surrounding you, it feels like everything is exactly as it should be. The casual arrangement you once had has blurred into something deeper, something more profound. You can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he speaks to you, in the way he cares for you.

You never expected this to happen, but now that it has, you’re not sure you want it to stop. Katsuki has wormed his way into your life in a way you hadn’t anticipated, and it scares you, just a little.

But when he’s this close, when his touch is this gentle, and when his words are this soft, it’s hard to imagine ever wanting to let him go.

It’s like stepping into a high-end restaurant when you walk into Katsuki’s apartment the next day, after finishing up your schedule.

The moment you enter, the smell of freshly prepared food hits your senses, and the sight of the spread on the dining table takes your breath away. He’s really gone all out—sashimi platters laid out beautifully, with slices of the freshest fish you’ve ever seen; multiple types of sushi from nigiri to uramaki and temaki, each piece looking meticulously crafted. The fried dishes, like ebi furai and karaage, are golden and crisp, making your mouth water at the sight of them.

It’s a lot. More than you ever expected from him, especially after how shy he seemed about cooking this for you.

But what really catches your attention isn’t the food—it’s the bouquet of flowers sitting at your usual seat.

Your breath hitches as you step closer, reaching out to touch the delicate petals. The bouquet is a stunning mix of roses, lilies, orchids, and carnations, all in varying shades of pink. The arrangement is soft but vibrant, delicate yet full of life, and you can’t help but be completely charmed by the gesture. You pick it up carefully, the scent of the flowers filling the air as you lift the bouquet closer to your face. The blend of colors is beautiful, and it makes your heart flutter.

With the bouquet in hand, you turn to look at him, your expression softening into a teasing but warm smile. "Flowers, huh?" you murmur, your voice light with affection, though there’s an underlying sense of surprise too. You’d never thought Katsuki would go this far, to do something so thoughtful and gentle.

Katsuki stands a few feet away, looking a bit out of his element, his usual confidence slightly faltering. He’s rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign of his discomfort with this kind of vulnerable gesture. His eyes flick to the flowers in your hands, and then back to you. His mouth twitches like he’s about to say something, and after a beat, he murmurs, almost bashfully, “It’s the same color as your nails.”

You blink, and then you realize—he’s right. The delicate pink flowers are nearly an exact match for the nude-pink shade you’d mentioned getting done at the nail salon earlier that morning. It’s such a small detail, something you didn’t even think he’d remember, let alone match. It’s thoughtful in a way that makes your chest tighten and your heart swell.

You think you might just melt right there. He’s always been sweet in his own gruff, awkward way, but this? This feels different. This feels like he’s trying to show you something more, to express something he doesn’t have the words for.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, your voice a little breathless as you take a step toward him, the bouquet still in your hands. You want to say something else, to tease him maybe, but the lump in your throat won’t let you. Instead, you just stare at him, feeling the warmth in your chest grow, spreading like wildfire.

He looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, his lips curling into a small scowl. But there’s no bite behind it. If anything, he just looks a little embarrassed. “Don’t make a big deal outta it,” he grumbles, though the way his eyes flicker back to yours betrays his nerves.

But you can’t help it. How can you not make a big deal out of it? He went through all this trouble just to match a detail as small as your nails with the flowers he picked. He cooked an entire feast for you, filled with dishes you love. And all of it—all of it—is done with the kind of care and thoughtfulness that makes your heart ache in the best way.

You set the flowers down gently on the table and step closer to him, your hands reaching for his. You feel the callouses on his fingers as you intertwine them with yours, and he stiffens slightly before relaxing, allowing you to pull him closer. “You didn’t have to do all this,” you whisper, your voice soft and tender. “But I love it. I love everything. Thank you.”

Katsuki’s gaze flickers down to your hands, then back up to your face, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out how to respond. He shifts his weight, looking uncharacteristically shy. “S’nothin’. Just wanted to do somethin’ nice.”

Your smile grows, and you can’t resist the urge to stand on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin flushes under your touch, and you feel the way he holds his breath for a second before he relaxes. “Well, it means a lot to me,” you murmur against his skin, your lips lingering just a little longer than necessary.

When you pull back, his gaze locks onto yours, and there’s a softness in his eyes you don’t often get to see. For a moment, the two of you just stand there, the world feeling a little smaller, a little more intimate. The bouquet, the dinner, the way he remembered something as small as the color of your nails—it all feels like more than just casual affection. It feels like he’s slowly, hesitantly opening himself up to you in ways he’s never done before.

And it makes your heart race.

“Now, come on,” you say, breaking the silence with a grin as you tug him toward the table. “Let’s eat before this masterpiece gets cold.”

He huffs, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Sit down already.”

As you take your seat, you can’t help but feel a little giddy. Katsuki takes his seat across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just sit there, surrounded by the feast he’s prepared. There’s a warmth in the air, a sense of quiet happiness that lingers between you.

And as you pick up your chopsticks and dig into the meal he made just for you, you realize that whatever this is between the two of you, it’s something more than you ever could have imagined. Something real. Something that’s growing in ways neither of you expected.

That night feels like a memory already etched into your soul, a moment you know you’ll never forget.

The signs were all there from the start—the flowers, the dinner, the shy glances exchanged between the two of you over the table. There was a softness in the way you spoke to each other, a quiet warmth that lingered in the air, charged with something more than just affection.

It was inevitable, the way the night would unfold.

Now, the room is filled with nothing but the quiet creaking of the bed, the sound of skin meeting skin, and the breathless, intimate sounds you and Katsuki make together. Your hands grip the pillow beneath your head as his strong hands hold your thighs, keeping them folded around his hips. He moves with a steady, deliberate rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through your body. There’s something deeper in the way he touches you tonight—something tender and almost reverent.

Through the haze of pleasure, your eyes blink up at him, catching the intensity of his gaze. It’s overwhelming, the way his molten eyes lock onto yours, filled with an emotion so raw it almost makes your chest ache. You can’t help but tug him closer, wanting to feel his warmth, his skin against yours. He obliges, his forearms coming to rest on either side of your head, bracketing you in. Your legs instinctively tighten around his waist, your ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him even closer.

“Katsuki,” you gasp, the word slipping from your lips in a whisper. It’s a plea, a confession, everything wrapped in one. He answers you not with words but with a kiss—soft, slow, and wet. His lips press against yours with a tenderness that belies the strength of his body, and it makes you shiver with how gentle he’s being. There’s something different in the way he’s moving, like he’s trying to tell you something he can’t quite put into words.

Then, his voice breaks the silence, low and vulnerable. “Say my name,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck.

The need in his voice makes your heart stutter. You feel his vulnerability, the rawness of him asking for something so simple, yet so important. So you do—you say his name over and over, like a mantra. “Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki…” Each word is punctuated by a kiss, your lips brushing against his in fleeting touches. His name feels sacred on your tongue, like it’s the only thing that matters in this moment.

His eyes darken, flecks of gold and violet swirling in the molten depths of his gaze. It’s like he’s seeing straight through you, into the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel bare, exposed. But in the best way. You’re not just giving yourself to him; you’re sharing something far more intimate, something unspoken but understood. The two of you are drowning in each other—in the kisses, the warmth of your skin pressed together, the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

He’s exploded you, just like his quirk, and in his touch, you feel like fireworks—bright, burning, alive. Every time he moves, you feel like you’re breaking apart in the best way, only to come back together, more whole than before.

And then, Katsuki slows his movements, like he’s trying to savor every second of this. His thrusts become deep, deliberate, each one dragging out the moment as if he never wants it to end. There’s something reverent about it, like he’s worshipping you, wanting to memorize the way you feel, the way your body responds to him. It’s so intense, so real, that it almost overwhelms you.

You can’t help but moan softly, your body arching into his as he moves within you. The sensation is slow, building like a crescendo, and you feel like you’re on the edge of something greater than either of you. You’re not just feeling pleasure—this is something deeper. His touch, his kiss, the way he holds you, it all makes you feel like you’ve become something otherworldly, like a star burning brightly in the night sky.

His lips brush against your ear, and in the quiet between breaths, you hear him whisper, “You’re incredible.” The words are hushed, almost like a secret, but they hit you hard, sinking deep into your heart. He’s never been great with words, but in this moment, he doesn’t need to be. The way he touches you, the way he holds you, speaks volumes.

And just like that, you feel yourself slipping, falling into that blissful oblivion, with Katsuki right there with you. The world outside disappears, and all that exists is this—the two of you, tangled together, lost in the feeling of each other. Time slows, the space between each breath stretches, and for a moment, it feels like you’re not just two people anymore. You’ve become something greater, something inseparable, something you never want to let go of.

As the two of you finally find release, together, it feels like the stars themselves have exploded inside of you, leaving you breathless, weightless, and utterly content.

It’s close to dawn, and the first hints of light peek through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room.

You’re completely spent, bodies tangled together, exhausted after countless rounds of pleasure, yet it’s not just the physicality that keeps you close. It’s the warmth of his touch, the familiarity of it, the way his body instinctively presses against yours. Katsuki is holding you like you’re something precious, his lips brushing over your skin—your jaw, your neck, your shoulders—leaving behind tender kisses in his wake. His hands glide over your hips, your stomach, your thighs, tracing your curves with a gentle reverence that makes your breath hitch. There’s something so intimate in the way he touches you now, not just as a lover, but as someone who’s cherishing every moment.

You nuzzle closer, your head resting against his muscular bicep, pressing a soft kiss to it with a smile. His warmth surrounds you, and you can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he takes. The silence between you is comfortable, peaceful, only filled with the sound of your shared breaths and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

In a teasing, hushed tone, you break the stillness, “You never told me what you think of my nails.”

Katsuki huffs a quiet laugh against your cheek, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “Idiot,” he mumbles, the insult carrying no real bite. His teeth sink into your skin teasingly, making you let out a startled squeak, but you laugh when you feel his lips press a soft kiss in the same spot. His voice is a little rough, but warm as he admits, “They look good.”

You smile at his response, feeling the warmth of his approval as it spreads through you. “Good,” you whisper back, your voice soft in the quiet room. You let the moment drift into comfortable silence once again, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close to him, his body still pressed to yours. The bed shifts slightly as you both move, adjusting your positions to be closer, your limbs lazily draped over each other.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, cutting through the silence, and you instinctively reach for it. You scroll through a few messages before opening the camera, catching your reflection on the screen. There’s a faint flush to your cheeks, and you can see the small marks he left on your skin—little love bites trailing down to your collarbone, proof of the night’s passion. You look at yourself, and you can’t help but smile.

You’re glowing.

Before you can dwell on it, Katsuki shifts beside you, slowly leaning in to rest his head against yours, his weight a comforting presence. Your smile softens as you press the button on the camera, capturing the two of you in the frame. He doesn’t protest—he never really does when you take pictures anymore—and there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet contentment that’s so different from the sharp, hardened persona he shows the world. Here, with you, he’s just Katsuki, sleepy-eyed and tender, his face relaxed in a way that makes your heart swell.

You click on the video option, and still, he says nothing, just watches as you record. He leans further into you, his body language loose and easy, completely at peace in your presence. You lift your hand to his jaw, gently scratching at the stubble growing there, and he blinks lazily, his eyes half-lidded as he leans into your touch. His vulnerability is on full display, and it’s something so personal, so special, that it makes your chest tighten with affection.

Without thinking, you turn your head and press a soft kiss to his lips. He lets you, meeting your kiss with a slow, sleepy response, his lips warm and slightly chapped. The kiss is tender, and when you pull away, it leaves behind a small, wet sound that makes you smile. You press another, quicker kiss to his lips before glancing back at the camera, capturing the quiet intimacy of the moment.

On the screen, you see him with that small, almost shy smile curling at the corners of his lips. It’s a rare expression, one that he only seems to show when he’s with you, and it makes your heart flutter. There’s no mask here, no front, just him—content, soft, and utterly at ease with you.

And in that moment, you realize how deeply you’ve both fallen into this. How much you’ve come to mean to one another. His presence feels like home, like something you’ve been missing all along.

There’s something deeper here, something you didn’t expect, and now it feels terrifyingly real.

And that thought scares the hell out of you.

You avoid him after that night.

It’s dumb; it’s stupid; it’s insane, but after that night, the intimacy had shaken you to your core, and you’re not ready to deal with the weight of what that means. The soft way he touched you, the vulnerability in his voice when he asked you to call him by his name—those aren’t things that fit into your neat little box labeled casual. And you don’t want to face the fact that whatever this thing is between you and Katsuki, it stopped being casual a long time ago.

So, you pull away. You don’t call him, don’t text back as often, and when he tries to reach out, you tell him you’re busy. It’s not entirely a lie. Work is busy. You’ve been booked back-to-back with photoshoots for Vogue China, campaigns for Kintsugi and Chanel, and appearances for Tsukiyo. Haute Couture Week is just around the corner, and you’re drowning in preparations.

But the truth is, it’s easier to hide behind your schedule than face the reality of what’s happening between you and Katsuki. You bury yourself in work, hoping the distance will clear your head, will give you time to sort out your feelings. Because you’re not sure what you want anymore. Do you still want something casual? Or has it become something more? You’re not ready to answer that question, not ready to confront the feelings that have begun to creep up on you.

And then, late one night, the consequences of your actions come knocking—literally.

It’s around one in the morning when there’s a knock at your door. The sound startles you, breaking the quiet of your apartment, and you instantly know who it is. You hesitate for a second, your heart racing as you walk over and pull the door open.

Katsuki stands there, still in his hero gear, covered in soot and sweat, fresh from patrol. His eyes are sharp, but there’s a softness in the way he looks at you—something like confusion, or maybe even hurt. He doesn’t waste any time.

“You avoidin’ me or somethin’?” His voice is gruff, but there’s a vulnerability in it, the kind that makes your chest tighten.

“No!” you blurt out, too quickly. Your voice sounds high, and you can’t even convince yourself. “No, I’ve just been... busy. You know how it is.”

He narrows his eyes, his expression hardening. “Busy, huh?”

You nod, trying to hold his gaze, but your heart is pounding in your ears. “Yeah. Work’s been crazy lately.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at you with that intense, unreadable look of his, and you feel the guilt crawling up your throat. You expect him to yell, to snap at you, but when he finally speaks, his voice is low, hesitant.

“Did I... do somethin’ wrong?”

The question hits you harder than you expect. You see the hurt in his eyes now, the way his jaw tightens, like he’s bracing for something. Your chest tightens, and you want to reach out, to reassure him, but you hesitate. You shake your head quickly. “No, Katsuki, you didn’t do anything. It’s... it’s not you, it’s me.”

His entire body tenses at your words, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell’s that s’posed to mean?”

You take a step back, rubbing your arms nervously. “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you say quietly, almost like you’re hoping he won’t hear you.

He takes a step closer, his voice firm, almost demanding. “Do what?”

You swallow, trying to find the right words, but they stick in your throat. “This... us. I wanted things to stay casual, you know? Casual but serious? But now... everything feels different… and I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.”

He’s silent for a beat, his jaw clenching, his fists tightening at his sides. “So avoidin’ me was your solution?” His voice is sharp now, tinged with frustration and hurt. He’s not yelling, but his tone cuts through you.

“No, it’s not like that. I just didn’t know how to—”

“Didn’t know how to what?” He interrupts, his voice rising slightly, his eyes flashing. “Didn’t know how to tell me I’m just some fuckin’ fling to you?”

“No!” you shake your head desperately, stepping forward, but the words feel stuck, like no explanation is good enough. “It’s not like that, I just—”

“Then what?” His voice cracks, and for a moment, you see something raw in his expression. He lets out a shaky breath and takes a step back, his shoulders slumping as he runs a hand through his messy hair. The usual fire in his eyes dims, replaced with exhaustion—emotional exhaustion. He looks tired. Tired of fighting for you. “Y’know what? Whatever. Do whatever the hell you want.”

You freeze as he turns, his back to you, and walks toward the door. Your mouth opens to stop him, but no words come out. You watch helplessly as he reaches for the door handle, his movements slow and heavy, like he’s waiting for you to say something—anything.

But you don’t.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You stand there, your heart pounding, staring at the empty space where he just stood. The weight of the conversation, of everything you didn’t say, settles in the pit of your stomach, and for the first time, you realize just how badly you’ve messed up.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to feel this way. But it does. And now, you’re left standing in the aftermath of your own avoidance, the silence of the room echoing with the absence of him.

And for the first time, you wonder if it’s too late to fix things.

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The weeks after your... breakup? Was it even that? You still don’t know how to label it, but whatever it was, it’s hard. It hurts more than you thought it would, more than you ever expected it could. You don’t cry easily, you’ve never been the type to fall apart over someone, but Katsuki—Bakugou—was different. His absence feels like a missing piece of your life, a hole that you can’t seem to fill no matter how much you try.

You find yourself crying at night, tears slipping down your cheeks as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. It’s a quiet kind of crying, the kind where your chest aches and your throat tightens, but you don’t make a sound. It’s unexpected, this grief, this sense of loss. You hadn’t realized how much he meant to you until he wasn’t there anymore. Until the warmth of his presence, his gruff voice, his touch was gone, leaving you cold and hollow.

But you push through it. You force yourself to keep going, to focus on your work, because that’s what you do. You’ve always been good at throwing yourself into your career when things get hard, and this time is no different. Even if your heart feels like it’s been ripped out. Even if you feel like you’re walking around with this empty, aching space inside you.

Even if it feels like... love.

But you don’t let yourself dwell on that thought. You shove it down, deep inside, where you don’t have to deal with it. Instead, you work. You focus on your job, on the constant demands of your schedule. Haute Couture Week in Paris comes quickly, and you’re on a plane before you even realize it, throwing yourself into the chaos of the fashion world.

Paris is as hectic and glamorous as always. You’re swept into a whirlwind of fittings, castings, and shows. You walk down runways draped in the most luxurious fabrics, you pose for countless photoshoots, you attend brand events where everyone looks perfect, where everyone seems to have it all together. On the surface, you look the part—you’re poised, composed, radiant. But inside, your thoughts are consumed with him.

Every time you stand still for more than a second, your mind drifts back to Katsuki. To the way he looked that night at your door, the hurt in his eyes, the way he walked away. You think about the nights you spent with him, about the softness in his touch that you hadn’t expected, about the way he kissed you with such intensity that it made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

You miss the way he would scowl when he was embarrassed, the way he’d flick your forehead when you teased him, the way he’d grumble but still pull you closer when you were lying in bed together. You miss him, and no matter how much work you bury yourself in, that feeling doesn’t go away.

And you do bury yourself in work.

You walk runway after runway, your legs aching from the hours spent in heels. You attend fittings, standing perfectly still as designers adjust fabric on your body, their hands moving with practiced precision. You barely eat, following the strict diet that keeps you in shape for the shows, even when your stomach growls in protest. You push through photoshoot after photoshoot, your face a mask of calm professionalism even when your head feels like it’s going to burst from exhaustion.

By the time Haute Couture Week ends, you’re exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. But there’s no time to rest, no time to stop and process the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since that night with Katsuki. September is coming fast, and with it, the next fashion month. Castings have already started, and of course, you’re booked solid. Tsukiyo, Ryūmon, Dsquared2, Dior—they all want you, and you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

You tell yourself that this is what you need. That keeping busy is good, that focusing on your career will help you forget. But late at night, when the city around you is quiet and your hotel room feels too big, too empty, you can’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to him. To the way he said your name, his voice rough but soft at the edges. To the way he held you close after everything, his hands gentle on your skin. To the way he looked at you, like you were more than just some casual fling, like you were something that mattered.

And that’s what scares you the most.

Because deep down, you know it was never just casual for him. You saw it in the way he touched you, in the way he let you call him by his first name, in the way he always made sure you were comfortable, that you were okay. You could feel it in the way he held you close, even when he didn’t say the words. Katsuki was serious about you, and that terrified you because you hadn’t let yourself believe that you could be serious about him too.

But now, lying in your hotel bed, staring at the ceiling in the dim light, you wonder if maybe... maybe you were serious about him too. Maybe this wasn’t just some casual thing for you either. Maybe you let your fear get the best of you. Maybe you pushed him away because you were scared of what it meant to feel this way about someone.

Maybe... it’s too late to fix it.

You first meet Kirishima Eijirou at the brand event for Yūgen, a high-end luxury brand that’s slowly carving its name into the industry.

The event is bathed in understated elegance, the kind that makes everything feel weightless, like an ethereal dream. The fragrance of Yūgen lingers in the air, soft but pervasive, the scent weaving in and out of your senses. It’s a haunting aroma—woody, floral, with a touch of something mysterious that stays with you long after you leave the room. The brand’s aesthetic mirrors that feeling, subtle craftsmanship and poetic beauty all wrapped in quiet luxury.

You’re wearing one of Yūgen’s finest designs: The Moonlit Silk Gown, a floor-length masterpiece in pearlescent ivory that moves like liquid moonlight against your skin. The cherry blossom embroidery is so delicate, it looks as though it might dissolve at any moment. The backless design leaves a trail of silk down your spine, each movement making you feel like a walking work of art, fragile but powerful. You look flawless—because you have to—but inside, you’re far from it.

It’s been a long week. A long month, really.

Physically, you’re exhausted. Every photoshoot, every runway, every campaign pulls energy from you in a way that leaves you hollow by the end of the day. But emotionally? That’s where the real toll is. It’s been weeks since you and Katsuki—Bakugou, you remind yourself, like a bad habit you need to kick—had your falling out, and despite throwing yourself into work, the ache hasn’t dulled.

A vacation sounds tempting, but the thought of having time—time to rest, time to think—is too much. You don’t want to think. Not about what happened, not about the way you avoided him, not about the hurt in his eyes that still haunts you late at night. So you bury yourself in everything else—work, events, anything that keeps you moving forward without looking back.

The event is in full swing, and you’ve spent hours mingling, moving through the crowd like a ghost, smiling, nodding, talking to people whose faces blur together after a while. Celebrities, designers, businessmen, all wanting a piece of your attention. You’re good at it—the small talk, the easy charm, the graceful way you handle yourself. But by the time you finally find a moment to sit down, you feel like you’re about to collapse.

Your feet ache from the heels you’ve been wearing all night, sharp pains shooting through your legs with each step. Your head pounds from the constant hum of conversation, lights, and the weight of it all. You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself, to focus on anything other than the discomfort coursing through you. You consider finding an excuse to leave early, to escape the noise and the pressure, but before you can even act on it, a voice cuts through the noise around you.

“Hi, may I sit here for a moment?”

You blink, looking up, surprised to find a tall figure standing over you, smiling. It takes you a second to place him—Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Pro Hero Red Riot.

He’s famous, one of the top heroes in the country, known for his kindness as much as his strength. You’ve heard about him before, mostly from Katsuki. Despite Bakugou’s endless grumbling about Shitty Hair this, Shitty Hair that, you could always tell there was a lot of affection there. Kirishima is one of Bakugou’s closest friends, a bond that goes back to their high school days.

It’s odd, meeting one of Bakugou’s friends now, after everything that’s happened between you two. You’ve only met Kaminari and Ashido briefly, and that was back when things with Katsuki were... different. Now, you don’t know where you stand with him, let alone the people in his life.

But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it? Not after how things ended.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you say, forcing a polite smile. Your voice is steady, though inside, you feel the familiar tension creeping back up your spine. You watch as Kirishima sits down beside you, his broad frame filling the space with a kind of easy warmth. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, the fabric perfectly tailored to his muscular form. A golden chain hangs around his neck, catching the soft light of the room.

He doesn’t feel overwhelming, though. Despite his large frame and the unmistakable air of strength he carries, Kirishima exudes a kind of gentleness that puts you at ease almost immediately. His presence is the complete opposite of the tension that’s been gnawing at you all night.

“Long event, huh?” Kirishima says, his voice light, but there’s a genuine empathy in his tone. It’s the kind of voice that invites you to relax, to drop the mask you’ve been wearing all night.

You nod, offering him a tired smile. “Yeah. It’s been a long week, actually.”

He chuckles softly. “I bet. These things can be exhausting, even for someone like you.” His eyes flicker down to your gown, admiration clear in his gaze. “You look incredible, by the way. That dress... it’s something else.”

You let a tired smile curl around your lips. “Thanks,” you say softly, though the compliment feels weightless. You’ve been hearing it all evening, and the words don’t really touch you anymore.

Kirishima smiles back, but his expression carries a hint of concern now. His easygoing demeanor is still there, but there’s something more perceptive in his gaze.

There’s a pause, a moment of silence between the two of you, as the murmur of the event continues around you, but Kirishima doesn’t seem to mind the quiet. “You seem overworked,” he says after a moment, his voice gentle but probing.

You shrug, taking a sip from the champagne in your hand. The bubbles fizzle, but even the sharp taste of alcohol does little to break through the numbness you’ve been carrying all night. “I am,” you admit.

He raises a brow, clearly concerned. “Why don’t you take a break then?”

The answer comes to you immediately, almost on instinct. “I don’t want to,” you say flatly. “Taking a break means having time for myself, and that’s the last thing I need right now. Plus, I can’t.” You gesture vaguely, feeling the weight of your schedule already pressing down on you. “Fashion Week is in two months, and my calendar’s already packed. There’s no time.”

Kirishima hums in understanding, but there’s something unsaid in the air between you. His gaze softens as he looks at you, clearly mulling over his next words. The silence stretches, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Bakugou—if Katsuki ever mentioned you to his friends. Did he talk about you? Did they know you were… something, once? The thought makes your heart flutter, but it’s quickly followed by the familiar ache. You feel a lump rise in your throat as you try to push it all down.

Before you can dwell on it further, Kirishima finally speaks. “You know, I have a friend,” he says, his tone casual but laced with something deeper. “He kind of reminds me of what you’re going through. Recently, he went through something… rough, and it’s been hard on him. He’s been burying himself in work, and honestly, he’s not the same as he used to be. Not as happy, not as... alive. Like, something’s missing, you know?”

Your breath hitches. You know where this is going, but you can’t stop yourself from listening, from feeling every word sink deeper.

“The funny thing is,” Kirishima continues, his voice softening, “he never really told us about it. We found out by accident, actually—one of our friends snooped through his phone and found a picture.” He chuckles lightly, but it’s a sad sound. “He was pissed, obviously, but he didn’t stay mad for long. I think it’s because back then, he was still happy. Whatever he had, it made him content. But then… things happened.”

He turns to look at you, and his smile is sympathetic, almost knowing. “I think you understand.”

Yeah. He definitely knows.

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy and suffocating. You feel the guilt rise up, thick and choking, but you force yourself to keep your expression neutral. You don’t want to show just how much it’s affecting you. “I hope your friend is doing okay,” you manage, though your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

Kirishima shrugs, his eyes flickering with a sadness of their own. “He says he is, but… I know him. He’s not.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. It’s all your fault. You can feel it—deep down, you know it. You’ve hurt him, and now he’s suffering because of it. The thought makes your chest tighten painfully. “I bet that… something he had misses him, too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe they didn’t realize how important he was until it was too late.”

Kirishima smiles, but it’s tinged with that same sadness. “Yeah. That’s usually how it goes, isn’t it? We don’t realize what we’ve lost until it’s gone.”

You let out a small, bitter chuckle, nodding in agreement. The weight of the truth in his words is almost unbearable. You didn’t realize. Not until it was too late. And now, you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of what used to be.

Kirishima watches you carefully, as if weighing his next words. “But, you know,” he says after a pause, “my friend, for all his gruffness… he’s pretty forgiving. He’s changed a lot since we were kids. He’s softened, in his own way.”

Your heart stutters at his words. You feel the lump in your throat grow bigger, making it hard to breathe. “Do you…” You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Do you think he’d forgive that something? If they tried to make things right?”

Kirishima shrugs, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at you. “I think he would. He misses them more than they probably realize. But… they won’t know unless they try.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, and before you can say anything else, Kirishima stands up, offering you a kind smile. “It was nice talking to you. And hey, think about that vacation. It might be exactly what you need.”

You nod, too overwhelmed to say much in response, and watch as he walks away, his presence fading into the crowd.

The second he’s gone, your mind spins in a thousand directions. You sit still, your thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, regret, and longing. You think about what Kirishima said—about Katsuki, about how he misses you, about how he might forgive you if you reached out.

Is it possible? Could he really forgive you? After everything?

Your heart races as you play the conversation over and over in your head, and slowly, a realization starts to settle in. You’ve been running from your feelings for weeks, but now… maybe it’s time to stop.

Maybe it’s time to try.

That’s when you make your decision.

You’re done hiding; done avoiding the truth.

The commute to his apartment is hell.

Everything that could go wrong, does. There’s an accident on the highway, forcing your driver to navigate the congested streets of Musutafu. The city is thick with humidity, and a summer storm has turned the streets into rivers. The rain pounds against the car windows relentlessly, and every drop seems to mock you, making you feel like the world itself is pushing back against this decision.

A few blocks from Katsuki’s apartment, the road is blocked by construction. Of course it is. Because, why wouldn’t it be? You’re so close, and the frustration bubbles up inside you until it spills over. Without thinking, you throw the door open and leap out of the car, pulling off your heels and clutching them in your hand. The rain immediately drenches you, soaking through the silk of your gown.

But you run. Barefoot through the city streets, you run.

By the time you reach his building, you’re a sight—your silk dress clings to your skin, the once-elegant fabric now heavy and dripping, your hair plastered to your face. Your heels, still in your hand, are soaked through, and your feet slap against the slick pavement as you take the final steps to his door.

You knock, and it only takes a few moments before the door swings open. Katsuki stands in the doorway, his body immediately tensing as his gaze sweeps over you. His eyes go wide, and you can see the confusion—maybe even concern—flicker in them as he takes you in.

You probably look like a drowned rat, soaking wet and panting from your sprint, but that’s not what gets to you. It’s him. It’s the way he looks. He’s tired. So tired. His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, and the bags under them make it clear he hasn’t been sleeping. His broad shoulders are hunched, his usual fire subdued, and that alone breaks something inside of you.

You did this to him.

“What the fuck—” he starts, his voice rough, but you cut him off before he can get any further.

“No. You listen to me.” You step forward, your heart hammering in your chest, your breath coming in shallow gasps from your run. “I want to talk. I couldn’t do that last time.”

His mouth snaps shut, and he blinks, clearly thrown by the intensity in your voice. He nods, just slightly, a gesture so small that most people wouldn’t even notice it—but you do. He’s listening.

You take a breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside you, and then you begin. “I never meant to avoid you,” you say, voice shaky but determined. “I just… wasn’t ready to deal with the weight of what happened. I wasn’t ready to confront the feelings that you—” You swallow hard. “—the feelings you gave me.”

Katsuki’s eyes stay locked on yours, and you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he’s trying to keep himself calm, to hear you out.

“I always thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship,” you continue, feeling the words start to spill out faster, as if you need to get them out before you lose your nerve. “I thought I wanted something casual. But you… you changed that. You made me realize how wrong I was.” Your voice cracks slightly, and you force yourself to keep going. “I miss you. I miss you all the time. I miss your warmth, your kisses, the way you hold me close, the way you always make sure I’m comfortable, the way you’re grumpy but always so sweet… I miss everything about you.”

His breathing picks up, a faint hitch in his chest, and you notice the way his hands flex at his sides, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded.

“You were never just a fling to me,” you say, your throat tightening with emotion. “And I’m sorry I made you feel like you were. I’m sorry for everything. I was scared, and I didn’t know what I wanted, but now I do. I want you.”

You see him stiffen at those words, his expression shifting, but you press on. You have to say it all, everything.

“Today… today made me realize just how stupid I’ve been,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know what I had until I lost you. And I’m—” You choke slightly on the words, but push through them. “I’m in love with you.”

He inhales sharply, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet hallway, but he doesn’t move. His eyes widen slightly, but you can’t stop now.

“I think about you all the time,” you continue, your voice shaking with every word. “I feel like such an idiot, because I had everything—you—and I screwed it up. I was scared, and I—I let you walk away, but I don’t want to make that mistake again. I want you, Katsuki. I’m choosing you.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each one carrying the weight of everything you've been too scared to admit, too scared to confront. The hallway is quiet, save for the sound of your uneven breathing and the faint drumming of rain against the building outside. Katsuki is still standing there, his broad frame taking up the entire doorway, but he's utterly still. His eyes are locked on yours, wide and unblinking, as if he's trying to process every single word you’ve just thrown at him.

And you know Katsuki.

You know him in ways most people don’t. He’s strong, stubborn, and often explosive, but beneath that tough exterior is a vulnerability that he hides from the world. He doesn’t let people in easily, not really. His sharp edges and brash attitude are a shield, a way to protect himself from the constant pressure, the overwhelming expectations. He’s used to people seeing him as a weapon, a force of nature. But never as something to be chosen—never as someone who could be the safe place for someone else.

So when you stand here, drenched in rain and raw emotion, telling him that you do choose him, that you’re in love with him, it shakes him to his core. You can see it in the way his breath catches, in the way his body tenses like he’s bracing for impact. His eyes, usually so full of fire, are now filled with disbelief, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is real, that you're real.

His lips part slightly, but no words come out. It’s like he’s frozen, caught between wanting to say something and not knowing how to. Bakugou Katsuki, the man who always has something to say, who always knows how to react, is speechless.

The silence stretches on, and with each passing second, your heart feels like it’s being squeezed tighter and tighter. You’ve laid everything out—your heart, your soul, your fears—and the silence in return feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightens, making it hard to breathe.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally start to spill over. You can’t stop them anymore. They fall freely now, mixing with the rain still dripping from your soaked hair and clinging to your skin. “Please.”

Katsuki’s eyes flicker, his jaw tightening as if he’s fighting some internal battle. He’s never been good with words—he’s never been good with feelings—and you can see how much he’s struggling right now. The vulnerability on his face is something you’ve only seen a handful of times, and it cuts through you like a knife.

Finally, he exhales sharply, a sound that’s more like a growl than a breath, and he takes a step forward. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before he cups your face, his palm warm against your cold, rain-soaked skin. His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, the gesture so uncharacteristically gentle for him that it makes your heart ache even more.

“You… fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters, his voice rough and thick with emotion. There’s no anger in his words, though—just a kind of raw frustration and something deeper, something more vulnerable. His crimson eyes are locked on yours, searching your face as if he’s trying to make sure this is real, that you’re not going to disappear on him again. “You think… you think I didn’t fuckin’ want this? That I didn’t want you?”

You blink up at him, the tears still blurring your vision. His voice is cracking in a way you’ve never heard before, and it hits you just how much this means to him.

“I wanted you,” he says, his hand still cradling your face as he leans in closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Fuck… I still want you.” His voice is raw, the vulnerability bleeding through with every word. “But you…” He swallows hard, his other hand coming up to grip your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. “You pushed me away. You made me think… I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth shit to you.”

The pain in his voice is palpable, and it makes your chest ache in a way that feels almost unbearable. You shake your head, your own voice cracking as you try to get the words out. “No. No, Katsuki, that’s not—”

He cuts you off, his grip tightening just slightly, but not in a way that hurts. It’s like he’s holding on to you for dear life, afraid that if he lets go, you’ll disappear again. “You don’t get it,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “No one… no one ever fuckin’ chooses me. Not like this. You think I didn’t want you to come after me? You think I didn’t want you to fight for me?”

His words hit you like a freight train, and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips. He’s right. You did push him away. You made him feel like he wasn’t worth it, like he didn’t matter as much as he should have. And now, seeing the pain in his eyes, hearing the hurt in his voice, it feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Katsuki. I was scared, and I didn’t know how to handle it, but I… I love you. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you again.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to find the truth in your words. Then, slowly, his expression softens, the hardness in his gaze melting away as he exhales a shaky breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek again, wiping away the fresh tears.

“Shitty timing,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. In fact, there’s something almost tender in the way he says it, like he’s trying to hold on to his usual roughness, but it’s slipping through his fingers.

You let out a shaky laugh, your tears still flowing, but now there’s a warmth building in your chest—hope, maybe. You can feel it in the way he’s holding you, in the way his body is slowly relaxing against yours. He still wants you. He still cares.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The rain continues to fall outside, the world around you moving on without care, but in this small space, it’s just the two of you. Just Katsuki and you, standing in the doorway of his apartment, soaked to the bone and hearts laid bare.

Finally, he pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace that leaves no space between you. His chin rests on top of your head, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his heart beats against yours.

“Don’t run from me again,” he murmurs, his voice gruff but laced with something soft, something tender. “I won’t fuckin’ let you.”

You nod against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as tightly as you can. “I won’t. I promise.”

He’s warm and so familiar, and you pull away from the embrace slowly, your fingertips grazing the sharp edge of his jaw as if grounding yourself in the solidity of him. His skin is warm beneath your touch, and there’s a slight tremor in his breath, a vulnerability that only you get to see. With your hands framing his face, you look up into his eyes—those deep, crimson eyes that burn like embers in the dim light of the hallway—and you murmur, “I love you.”

The words are soft but sure, slipping from your lips like a secret, and they hang in the air between you, filling the space with something fragile yet undeniably real. Katsuki’s breath hitches, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that betrays the storm brewing inside him. His hands, which have always been rough, steady, and unyielding, now grip your waist gently, like he's afraid you might vanish if he holds too tightly.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he closes his eyes for the briefest moment, letting the weight of your confession settle inside him, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that you rarely get to see. It’s raw, unguarded, and it steals the air from your lungs. His head dips, and with a shuddering breath, he captures your lips with his own.

The kiss is tender, a slow unfolding of everything unsaid. It’s not rushed or frantic—it’s a return, a homecoming. It feels like stepping back onto familiar shores after being adrift for too long. His lips, warm and firm, taste of all the things you missed, of safety and fire, of passion restrained but not diminished. His kiss is like the first light of dawn breaking across the horizon, soft yet full of promise. It’s the summer sun that melts the tension from your bones, the serene hush of winter’s first snow, the gentle bloom of spring flowers, and the quiet fall of autumn leaves—all of it wrapped into one. A constant rhythm, pure and right, grounding you in the moment.

Before you realize it, he’s pulling you into his apartment, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. Your heels clatter to the floor in the genkan, forgotten as his strong arms wrap around you, lifting you with effortless grace. Your hands find their place again, cradling his jaw, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips seek yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You’re weightless in his arms, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he guides you down the familiar hallway, each step measured and deliberate, leading you toward the sanctuary of his bedroom.

The scent of him surrounds you, filling your senses—sharp and smoky, like burning embers, mixed with something inherently Katsuki. You missed this. You missed the way he feels against you, the steady pulse of his heartbeat as it thunders beneath his skin, the way his presence alone fills every corner of the space with warmth.

He lays you gently on the bed, the mattress sinking beneath your weight, and for a moment, he pulls back. The loss of his warmth is brief, but you feel it keenly until he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, every scar etched into his skin like a map of battles won and lost. His body tells stories—of strength, of endurance, of survival—but all you see is the man who holds you now, the man who wears his heart hidden beneath layers of gruffness and fire.

Your hands move instinctively, tracing the familiar lines of his chest and shoulders. Your fingertips ghost over each scar, each ridge, as if memorizing him all over again. His skin is hot beneath your touch, and your hands curl around the back of his neck, pulling him back to you. His mouth meets yours once more, but this time the kiss is deeper, more urgent, the heat between you building with each passing second.

He welcomes you back like the dawn welcomes the night—slowly, but with an inevitability that feels like fate. His touch is reverent, as if you’re something sacred, something to be cherished. His hands, rough and calloused from years of combat, move with a surprising gentleness as they begin to peel the wet fabric of your dress away from your body. It clings to your skin, soaked through from the rain, but he is patient, his fingers working carefully, unwrapping you from the silk like a gift.

His touch is molten, a slow burn that spreads through you, lighting up every nerve. It’s like molasses—thick, slow, and deliberate—filling the space between you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Katsuki is fire, fierce and untamed, and in his hands, you feel like molten gold, soft and pliable, shaping yourself to the heat of his touch. He moves with purpose, his gaze never leaving yours as he strips away the last barrier between you, leaving you bare beneath him.

When he finally presses his body against yours, skin to skin, it feels like everything you’ve been missing. His warmth envelops you, his presence grounding you in a way that nothing else can. His hands roam over you, tracing every curve, every line, his fingers mapping out the soft planes of your body with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire that burns in his eyes.

There’s something unspoken between you now, something that doesn’t need words. His touch is a silent claim, his fingers skimming over the dips of your waist, the arch of your spine, the softness of your thighs. He knows every inch of you, and yet it feels new all over again, like he’s discovering you for the first time. His hands are steady, but there’s a quiet desperation in the way he holds you, like he’s afraid this moment might slip away if he lets go.

Katsuki’s breath is hot against your skin as he lowers himself down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, down to the hollow of your throat, each one a promise, a vow. His touch is deliberate, a slow, deliberate worship of your body, as if he’s reminding you of everything you are, everything you mean to him. His hands glide over your hips, his fingers brushing the tender skin of your inner thighs, and you arch into him, your breath hitching as you feel the weight of his love in every movement, every touch.

In his arms, you are safe. In his arms, you are whole.

He is fire and strength, and you are his, claimed by the fierce heat that only he can bring. You are molten gold, shaped and refined in the crucible of his love, and together, you burn brighter than the stars.

His lips press against yours, fueled by a newfound hunger, a kind of urgency that pulls a gasp from your throat, a soft whimper that escapes into the space between you. His hands roam your body with a heated reverence, fingers tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your hips, until one hand dips lower, slipping between your legs. When his finger slides inside you, the sensation is immediate, raw—a sharp intake of breath echoes through him as he feels you clench around him. You’re so warm, so wet, and it sends a shudder down his spine.

You can feel the tremor in him, the restraint, the overwhelming desire bubbling beneath the surface as his forehead presses against yours, breath mingling with yours in the stillness of the room. Another deep pant leaves him as he moves his finger inside you, the motion making you arch into him, your body responding to him as if you were always meant to. But before you can even catch your breath, he pulls away, eyes burning with a fire that ignites something deep inside you, and in one swift motion, he’s pressing his hips against you, rutting the length of his cock against your slick heat.

His body trembles with restraint as he teases you, but soon enough, he can’t hold back. His hand grips your thigh, pulling you closer as he lines himself up, and then he slips inside you—slowly at first, the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, taking you inch by inch until he’s seated fully within you. The world stills, and for a brief moment, it’s just him and you—joined together as one, moving in a rhythm older than time itself.

It feels like floating—weightless, untethered, as if you’re both suspended in the space between worlds. He rolls his hips, a slow, rhythmic tide, and you meet him, each thrust a push and pull, the two of you locked in a quiet dance. It’s like the meeting of the sea and the bioluminescent sands, glowing with heat and light, each touch sparking something deep and primal within you.

You murmur his name, “Katsuki…” your voice breathless and needy, and he responds with a kiss, his lips soft but insistent as they claim yours. He thrusts into you, achingly gentle, his movements precise but tender, each one filled with care. His hips move steadily, his hands cradling your body as though you’re something delicate, something priceless. To him, you’re precious—a masterpiece he’s lucky enough to hold, a delicate thing that he handles with reverence. Every time he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are filled with something deeper than desire—something raw and unspoken, something that ties the two of you together in ways words never could.

Your hands drift over the hard planes of his chest, tracing the scars that mark his skin—testaments to battles fought and won, to the life he’s lived. Your fingers explore the rough edges of his body, skimming over the taut muscles that ripple beneath his skin, and the stubble along his jaw that scratches lightly against your fingertips. Each touch is full of reverence, because to you, Katsuki isn’t just a work of art; he’s a force of nature. He’s beauty in its rawest form, an Adonis sculpted from lava and tempered by explosions. He’s the embodiment of power, but beneath it, you feel the vulnerability he only ever reveals to you.

Your hands continue to explore his body, memorizing every part of him. You thumb the scars along his shoulders, fingers dancing along the ridges of his abs, and as you do, you marvel at how someone so strong, so unyielding, can be so gentle, so loving. He moves inside you with reverence, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot and heavy against your lips. His body presses down against yours, the heat of him sinking into your bones as he thrusts deeper, driving you further into the mattress. His movements are unhurried but deliberate, each one building on the last until the tension in your body coils tight.

And then it snaps, the pleasure washing over you in waves, pulling you under as you come undone beneath him. His name is the only thing you can manage, whispered over and over like a mantra, like a promise, your hands clutching at him as though he’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—of being with him like this, of feeling loved, cherished.

Katsuki follows you into that blissful fall, his own body trembling as he reaches his release. A broken moan escapes him, raw and guttural, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck as he holds you close, his thrusts slowing to a stop. His breath is warm against your skin as he cups your cheeks, tilting your face toward him for a kiss that’s softer now, full of unspoken words and emotions too heavy to name.

When he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his eyes flicker open, and you see everything in them—gold, violet, amber, the brightest and most precious colors shimmering in the depths of his gaze. It’s as though he holds the universe within him, and all of it is focused on you. His lips brush against yours, the softest of touches, and he whispers in that deep, gravelly voice, “I love you too.”

The tears you’ve been holding back spill over, but they’re happy tears, and you blink them away as you smile. You press another kiss to his lips, your heart full, knowing that whatever happens next, you’ve found your way back to him.

And that’s all that matters.

The aftermath is a world all its own—silent, untouched by the chaos that exists beyond the walls of his bedroom.

Here, in the quiet glow of the moonlight, everything feels simple. The unspoken tension and complicated emotions that usually color the spaces between you seem to fade, leaving only this moment. It’s just you and Katsuki, wrapped up in each other, connected by something deeper than words could ever capture.

You’re cradled against him, his body solid and warm beneath you. His fingers trace slow, languid lines up and down your side, a repetitive, soothing motion that makes you feel grounded. Your own fingers mirror his, lazily drawing circles over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths under your touch. The scent of him—burnt caramel, cloves, sandalwood—wraps around you like a familiar blanket. It’s intoxicating and comforting, a part of him that feels so deeply etched into you now, as permanent as carvings on an ancient tree.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The stillness is sacred. But then, as if the weight of everything unsaid finds its way to your lips, you break the silence. "You know," you whisper, your voice soft as it brushes against the darkness, “today I realized that I deserve to take a break. To stop running away from everything.”

Katsuki’s fingers still for a moment on your skin, but then he leans down slightly, a silent acknowledgment that he’s listening. His hand rests at your hip, grounding you both.

“And… and you do too,” you continue, your voice growing a little stronger, though still fragile. "Your mom’s always on you about taking a vacation, right?" You feel his chest rise sharply beneath your head, his body stiffening just slightly. You take a shaky breath, pushing forward with the thought that’s been growing in your mind. “So… I booked two tickets. In the car. On my way here. To Indonesia. A luxury vacation. The plane leaves tomorrow morning.”

For a second, the world pauses. Katsuki freezes, his hand stopping mid-motion, his entire body going still as if he’s trying to process the words. Slowly, he leans up, propping himself on his elbows, his gaze searching your face with a mix of disbelief and confusion. His fingers find your chin, tipping your face toward him so your eyes meet. “You did what?” His voice is low, rough, not quite angry but edged with a bewilderment that you rarely see from him.

You lean into his touch, your heart swelling at the feel of his calloused fingers against your skin. “I want to go away with you,” you say, your voice steady and honest. “I’m tired, and you’re tired, and I just… I want to be with the man I love. To take time for us. Away from everything.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing. His chest rises and falls beneath you, each breath coming in measured, as if he’s trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to break through. His jaw tightens, muscles clenching as he looks at you, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his gaze.

It’s like he can’t believe it. Like he’s struggling to understand that you, here in this moment, are choosing him. That you’ve made this grand, impulsive decision for him—for both of you. His eyes dart away, unable to hold your gaze, his throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. You watch the way his emotions twist inside him, how they tangle up in his mind like a storm that he can’t quite put into words. You can see it all—the disbelief, the hesitation, the way this feels too good to be real for him.

He doesn’t speak, but the weight of his silence says everything. For someone like Katsuki, someone who’s spent his whole life being told he’s too much, too harsh, too aggressive—it’s hard to let himself be wanted like this. To be chosen. And it breaks your heart a little, knowing that this is how deep his vulnerability runs, how much he’s carried on his own without ever asking for anything.

Gently, you reach up, brushing your thumb along his jaw, guiding his face back toward yours. “You deserve this too, Katsuki,” you whisper. “You deserve to take a break. To just… be with someone who loves you.” Your voice softens, a faint crack in the quiet. “Let me love you.”

His breath stutters at those words, his eyes meeting yours again, this time filled with something deeper—something fragile. His hands tighten on your body, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But then, he just exhales shakily, leaning down to press his forehead against yours.

You can feel the tension slowly leaving his body, the weight of his resistance melting away as he allows himself to accept what you’re offering. He doesn’t speak, not yet, but his lips brush against yours in the softest of kisses, and you know he’s heard you.

It’s a moment of surrender, not just to you but to the idea that he can have this—that he’s allowed to be loved like this. And as you both lay there, tangled in each other, you realize that this is the start of something new.

Something real.

Something that, for once, feels like it’s yours to keep.

There has to be someone sabotaging Tsukiyo, you think. There’s no way this could happen two Fashion Weeks in a row—the final outfits not fitting again.

It’s déjà vu. Minase looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. The tension in the room is thick as assistants, stylists, and tailors dart around like bees in a hive, scrambling to fix the chaos unfolding before them. You’re sitting in the same spot you were last time, watching the chaos but strangely calm, Amanai seated beside you. The familiarity of it all is almost comical.

“This can’t just be bad luck, right? Someone has to be sabotaging the brand,” you muse aloud, watching Amanai get her hair touched up while your own makeup artist carefully layers shimmer onto your eyelids.

Amanai snorts, tilting her head slightly as the stylist adjusts a stray curl. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But at this point, I’m almost used to it. Minase will just do what she always does. Cut some outfits and make sure the important ones fit. These are summer pieces anyway—more skin showing means less fabric to worry about.”

You chuckle, a tired sound that mingles with the hum of panic around you. The Spring/Summer collection is about fluidity and celestial romance, staying true to Tsukiyo’s ethereal identity. You’re supposed to embody that dreamlike essence, but right now it feels more like a fever dream than a romantic one.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. She always manages to pull something off.”

Like clockwork, Minase’s voice cuts through the frenzy. “We’re cutting some outfits!” she announces, her voice laced with an edge of barely-contained frustration. “We’ll focus on the most important pieces. It’ll shorten the show, but it’s all we can do.” She turns to one of the stylists, rubbing her temples with a groan. “At least The Celestial Ripple Dress still fits,” she mutters under her breath, almost as if she's trying to convince herself that this won't be a complete disaster.

You exhale, grateful that your outfit isn’t one of the ones causing trouble.

With hair and makeup done, you’re hurried to the fitting room, where the assistants and tailors usher you into your first outfit of the night: The Sakura Veil Jumpsuit. It’s an airy, pastel pink piece, with floral appliqués floating on a sheer overlay. The deep V-neckline glimmers with crystal embellishments, catching the light as you move. You feel the soft iridescent embroidery brush against your skin, mimicking the delicate movement of petals in the wind.

It’s snug, but the tailors make some quick adjustments, and soon enough, you’re able to walk comfortably in it. With one final touch-up to your hair and makeup, you prepare yourself for the runway, the whirlwind of activity swirling around you like an unseen storm.

Amanai and Hanari are already at the curtains, peeking out at the venue. Amanai is dressed in The Moonlit Nomad Ensemble, a layered kimono-inspired blazer in misty gray, paired with fluid silk palazzo trousers that make her look like she’s gliding. Embroidered constellations shimmer faintly on the blazer, cinched at the waist with a metallic indigo belt, adding a regal structure to the otherwise ethereal look.

Hanari is draped in The Ocean Mirage Dress, a sky-blue gown made of sheer layers of chiffon that ripple like water. The bodice is structured with wave-like 3D elements, flowing seamlessly into a skirt of cascading ruffles edged with micro-crystals that glitter with every movement.

Amanai turns to you, her expression calm despite the chaos. “So? Ready?”

You smile wryly, adjusting your boots. “I think so. Just hope I don’t face-plant. These boots are a little slippery, and I don’t think I can handle the embarrassment of falling in front of everyone.”

Hanari snorts, barely suppressing her laughter. “Just make sure to fall gracefully, then. That’ll still fit the theme, right?”

You all share a brief moment of amusement, but soon enough, it’s time to get serious. The smirks and giggles are quickly replaced with the practiced poise of professionals.

Time to focus.

One by one, you step onto the runway. Hanari goes first, her gown flowing like liquid, followed by Amanai, whose ensemble glints subtly in the soft lighting. Finally, it’s your turn.

The second your foot touches the glossy floor of the runway, the world condenses into a singular moment. The backstage chaos falls away like a distant memory, and all that remains is the rhythmic click of your boots against the floor and the steady pulse of your own breath. The lights are blinding, but you keep your gaze forward, your body moving with effortless grace. You’ve done this a hundred times, but tonight, there’s something sharper about your focus, something more intense.

The audience fades into the background, their murmurs barely registering in your mind. Each step feels deliberate, every movement controlled. You feel the fabric of your jumpsuit shift against your skin, the weight of the crystals on your chest catching the light as you move. The shimmering appliqués float as if alive, and you become a part of Tsukiyo’s dreamscape—an ethereal figure, moving through a world of starlight and fluid beauty.

As you near the end of the runway, you pause, turning slowly to give the audience a full view of the outfit. You hold your head high, projecting an aura of quiet confidence.

You turn on your heel, making your way back down the runway with steady, deliberate steps, the sound of your boots echo with each click, vibrating deep in your chest. There’s a practiced grace to your movement, but every step feels charged with a weight that goes beyond the runway. You remind yourself to stay poised, to let the outfit speak through your body, through your calm. The audience’s eyes are still on you, but their murmurs barely pierce your bubble of focus.

When you finally step off the runway, a quiet exhale of relief escapes your lips. You feel your muscles relax, but only slightly. There’s still one more outfit to showcase—the most important one of the night. As you slip into the organized frenzy of backstage, assistants swarm you with quick, precise hands, ushering you toward the fitting area for the final look: The Celestial Ripple Dress.

The jumpsuit slides off with ease, and in its place, the assistants fit the silk of the Celestial Ripple Dress against your skin. The fabric feels like liquid, molding to you as though it’s alive. The iridescence of the material shifts between hues of lavender and warm peach, flickering like the first light of dawn. The architectural collar frames your neck and shoulders, delicate patterns flowing from it like lacework, lending you a regal air. The beaded obi-style belt cinches your waist, and as you glance down, you admire the laser-cut lace at the hem, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship of the design.

It’s a vision, a dream, and as you catch your reflection, you feel like a celestial being. But the reality of what’s about to come slams back into you with the controlled chaos around you—stylists pulling at your hair, makeup artists adding touches of shimmer to your already glowing skin. You still carry a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia two months ago, and the subtle golden tone contrasts beautifully against the soft tones of the dress.

Before you can fully immerse yourself in the calm before the storm, Minase appears at your side, her energy frantic but precise. She adjusts a few last details on the dress, her fingers working quickly.

“Listen,” she starts, her voice low but urgent. “Remember what I told you. Confidence. You need to own this moment. Make sure every single person in that room sees you—sees the dress. And that final pose?” She gives you a meaningful look, her eyes wide with intensity. “It has to be perfect. You need to look like you’ve stepped straight out of the stars. When the lights dim, and you see those white LEDs flicker, that’s your cue. Got it?”

You nod, giving her a reassuring smile despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Minase’s eyes flicker with a mix of tension and trust, and she nods before stepping back to allow the final touch-ups. The makeup artists dab a bit more highlighter on your cheekbones, and the hair stylists smooth out the last few tendrils framing your face, ensuring everything is in place.

As you take a deep breath, steadying yourself, the assistants guide you toward the runway entrance. Your pulse races, but the adrenaline is steadying, sharpening your focus. Around you, the backstage murmurs grow softer, almost muted against the steady beat of your own heart. Several people wish you luck as you pass, but their words blur into the background as your mind narrows into a singular focus: the final walk. Amanai and Hanari catch your eye from the side, their reassuring smiles grounding you in the moment. You return the smile, grateful for their support, but you know that no amount of encouragement can ease the pressure bearing down on you.

The runway lights begin to dim, casting the space into an ethereal shadow. The energy in the room shifts—hushed but charged with anticipation. A shiver of excitement runs through you as the white LED lights flicker, signaling the start of your walk.

Here we go.

You step onto the runway, and the moment your heels hit the floor, every pair of eyes in the room locks onto you. The dress catches the dim light, shimmering like a pool of liquid starlight, and with each step, the fabric shifts between hues, casting soft reflections across the room. The collar frames your face, a delicate extension of your own elegance, and the beaded belt accentuates your silhouette, guiding every movement with a subtle grace.

The world seems to fall away again. It’s just you, the runway, and the audience. You walk with the kind of confidence Minase drilled into you—a confidence that commands attention, yet exudes an effortless air. The hem of the dress whispers against your legs as you move, the intricate lace catching the softest hints of light with every step.

You hear the faint click of cameras, the subtle murmurs of awe from the audience, but it all blends into the background. In this moment, you are no longer just a model walking the runway; you are the embodiment of Tsukiyo’s celestial dream, a being that belongs to the stars.

As you approach the end of the runway, you pause, turning gracefully to give the audience one last view of the dress. The delicate collar flares slightly as you move, and you hold your final pose—a celestial queen, untouchable yet mesmerizing. You feel the weight of the moment, the pressure, but also the thrill of it. The audience is enraptured, their eyes drinking in every detail, and for a heartbeat, the world seems to hold its breath with you.

And then you turn, gliding back down the runway with the same deliberate grace. The energy in the room hums, and you can feel the attention still on you, as if the entire space is caught in the glow of your presence.

As you step off the runway, the weight of the night slowly lifts from your shoulders, and you release a deep sigh of relief. The adrenaline that had been pumping through your veins starts to ease, leaving you with a calm satisfaction. “Good job!” echoes from all around you, stylists and assistants offering you quick words of praise as you make your way further backstage.

Minase rushes toward you, her arms enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug, squeezing tightly. You return the hug, a wide smile spreading across your face. You know you did good tonight—really good.

The look on Minase’s face is proof of it.

You’ve done it again.

The afterparty is in full swing by the time you arrive.

The warm hum of low conversation and soft jazz mixes with the gentle clink of glasses. Dim lighting washes the room in an intimate glow, as glittering gowns and sleek tuxedos fill the luxurious space. The familiar click of your heels echoes against the polished marble floor, blending into the cadence of the night. Your eyes sweep the crowd, taking in the lavish surroundings, but you're instantly drawn to Amanai and Hanari, who are comfortably seated near the bar, their faces bright with laughter.

You’re dressed in a liquid gold slip dress that shimmers like molten metal with every movement. The delicate spaghetti straps highlight your shoulders, and the draped cowl neckline adds a touch of sensuality, balancing elegance and allure perfectly. The fabric clings to your body just enough to accentuate your figure before pooling subtly at your feet in a way that feels ethereal, otherworldly. Every step you take makes the high-shine metallic fabric catch the soft lighting, creating a fluid, rippling effect as though you’re a goddess dipped in gold. Paired with minimalist strappy heels, you feel the kind of confidence that only comes with wearing something that makes you feel utterly captivating.

But before you can reach Amanai and Hanari, you feel the familiar warmth of a hand sliding against your back. You already know who it is before you even turn around. There’s no mistaking the touch, the possessive yet gentle slide of a palm against your spine, the electric tension that runs through your body when he’s near.

A slow smile curls onto your lips before you even look over your shoulder, and when you finally glance back, your heart gives a small flutter as you meet Katsuki’s gaze. His expression is amused, eyes glinting with that familiar intensity you know so well. The edges of his mouth are curved slightly upward, a rare smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as aware of the magnetic pull between the two of you.

“Hi,” you breathe, the word barely a whisper as you turn fully toward him.

Without a second thought, your hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around his strong jaw, guiding his face down to yours. The kiss that follows is soft, slow, and searing. There’s something intoxicating about the way his lips move against yours, the way he holds back, teasing, yet still letting you feel the depth of his affection. When you pull away, you press another quick kiss to his lips, something playful. His eyes are half-lidded, lazy but brimming with affection, a softness in his expression that only you ever get to see.

Katsuki presses a kiss to your thumb, his lips warm against your skin. You wipe the smudge of lip gloss from his lips with your thumb, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You didn’t answer my texts,” you say quietly, your voice carrying a playful edge. “I didn’t know if you’d already arrived or not.”

He lets out a tch, glancing over his shoulder toward the back of the room where his friends are lounging. “Came with Shitty Hair and the others,” he mutters, nodding toward Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. They’re grinning and waving at you like a bunch of excited kids. You smile and wave back, but your focus quickly returns to Katsuki.

“You did good out there,” he says, his voice almost too soft for him, but it’s laced with pride. It sends warmth flooding through your chest.

“You think so?” you ask, searching his face, feeling your heart swell when you see the genuine admiration in his eyes.

He hums, nodding slightly. “Yeah.” His tone is gruff, but the sincerity is clear.

You tease him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “So, I looked good then?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes in that familiar way of his, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. “You always do,” he mutters, his hands slipping down to rest on your hips, his thumb brushing the fabric of your dress. There’s an understated affection in his touch, like he’s always more comfortable showing his feelings through actions rather than words.

Your fingers smooth over the fabric of his blazer, admiring the sharp, tailored fit of his all-black ensemble. He looks effortlessly handsome, dressed in a sleek black blazer with subtle metallic details that add an edge to the classic silhouette. The buttoned-up dress shirt underneath enhances his sharp jawline, and the wide-leg pleated trousers give him a sense of casual elegance. He looks sophisticated, polished, but still undeniably him.

Your Katsuki.

“Well, you look pretty good yourself,” you say, your smile widening as you take in his appearance, your hands lingering on his chest. “Real handsome.”

He scoffs again, but you catch the faint blush dusting his cheeks, and it makes you smile even more. He always does this—acts tough, but you know how much your words affect him. His fingers flex against your waist, a small tell that he’s pleased.

He still has a faint tan from your trip to Indonesia, and the memory stirs a warm ache in your chest. It's hard to believe it's been two months since that whirlwind adventure. You can still picture the lush rice fields, ancient temples, breathtaking sunsets, traditional villages, and those perfect beaches.

Indonesia had been like a dream.

It was everything you both needed. The two of you sat down and talked, really talked, about your feelings. Katsuki had opened up in his own gruff way, admitting how he felt after walking out of your apartment that day—how he wasn’t sure if he was just a fling or something more. You shared your own fears, how you’d been too scared to admit to yourself how much he meant to you.

And in that moment, everything felt right.

The rest of the vacation was a dream—relaxing on the beach, hiking through the jungles, trying local food, and, of course, spending every night tangled in each other’s arms. You hadn’t realized how much you missed his touch, his voice, until you had it again. Every morning and night spent wrapped in him felt like a piece of you had been restored.

And now, you’re dating. Officially; something you hadn’t dared to hope for before the trip, and the thought still makes your heart race sometimes.

“So, I look good now as well?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes as you step closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body.

Katsuki raises a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His thumb brushes over the golden necklace around your neck—the one with the first kanji of his name as the pendant, a gift he gave you after the trip. His other hand remains firm against your back, his touch grounding you.

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles, voice low and steady, filled with that quiet, unspoken affection only he can give.

“Sweet talker,” you tease softly, your lips quirking into a smile as you gently smooth a hand down Katsuki’s chest. His warmth seeps through the fabric of his sleek black blazer, grounding you in this moment of intimacy.

He raises a brow but doesn’t refute it, letting your words settle with that usual gruffness, though you can see the faint trace of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips. “Let me say hi to the girls, then I’ll join you at your table, okay?”

He nods and leans in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips, and you can feel the possessiveness in the way he lingers for just a second longer than needed. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that feels almost out of character, but you know it’s him—Katsuki showing affection in his own way. You pull away and pat his chest, turning to make your way toward Amanai and Hanari at the bar.

You glide through the room, feeling the eyes on you once more—not from the runway this time, but from the afterparty’s crowd. Your golden slip dress catches the ambient light, shimmering like liquid gold with every step. You’re in your element, but your heart is still wrapped up in Katsuki’s touch, in the way he looks at you like you're the center of his world, even in a room filled with people.

Greeting Amanai and Hanari doesn’t take long—just a quick exchange of hugs and a few words of praise for your performance on the runway. You laugh softly as they gush over your dress, the compliments filling you with warmth, but there’s an eagerness to get back to Katsuki.

By the time you return to his table, he already has a drink waiting for you, of course. He always pays attention to the details, even when he pretends not to. As you approach, you quickly go around the group, greeting everyone with hugs and smiles. Kirishima gives you a bear hug, Kaminari’s enthusiasm is infectious, and Mina’s wide grin feels like a mirror to your own.

“You looked so cool!” Kaminari practically bounces in his seat, his eyes wide with admiration.

Sero, his usual laid-back self, nods in approval while toying with an unlit cigarette between his lips. He smirks. “Yeah, you killed it out there. Not surprised, though.”

You settle into your spot beside Katsuki, his arm naturally wrapping around your waist as you lean into his solid frame. His presence is comforting—like a rock in the midst of the swirling energy around you. You smile and shrug modestly. “Thanks, guys. I’m just glad that starting tomorrow, I have a few days off. A mini vacation before the real work starts.”

It feels good to let that thought settle in—time to recharge before diving back into the hectic world of photoshoots and campaigns. You’ve been looking forward to this breather for weeks now.

Kirishima, always the supportive one, grins at you. “Good for you! You should take all the time you need.” His warm, encouraging tone is typical of him, and it only adds to the sense of relief that washes over you.

Mina hums in agreement, her bright eyes twinkling as she takes a sip from her drink. “Yeah, you deserve it. Fashion Week looked intense this year.”

You nod, feeling the tiredness start to creep in, but it’s a good kind of exhaustion—the kind that comes after you’ve given it your all. “It was, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s just… fulfilling, you know?”

Katsuki’s hand tightens slightly around your waist at your words, his quiet approval always there even when he doesn’t voice it. His presence beside you, even in these small moments, is grounding. He’s never one to shower you with compliments in public, but his actions—the way he holds you close, the way he’s always there when you need him—speak volumes.

Mina leans in, her smile mischievous. “So, what’s the plan for your mini vacation? You and Bakugou jetting off somewhere?”

Katsuki scoffs, his eyes flicking toward her with mild annoyance, but you catch the subtle way his hand remains on your back, protective and reassuring. You laugh softly. “We haven’t decided yet. Maybe something low-key. Relaxing.”

Kaminari nudges Sero with a grin. “Bet it’ll involve lots of… relaxing.”

You roll your eyes, chuckling at the innuendo, while Katsuki gives Kaminari a warning glare that shuts him up quickly. “Keep talkin’, Sparky, and you’ll regret it.”

“Jeez, I’m just kidding, man,” Kaminari holds his hands up in surrender, laughing nervously.

You smile and lean your head against Katsuki’s shoulder, feeling his body relax under your touch. “Honestly, I’m just excited to spend some time with this guy. We don’t get enough of that these days.”

At that, Katsuki glances down at you, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “We’ll figure something out.” His voice is low, private, as though the two of you are the only ones in the room.

You smile softly, leaning up to kiss Katsuki’s cheek. The subtle gesture of affection makes his face flush slightly, but he keeps his composure by pretending to sip on his drink, carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone. It’s a small, rare show of his vulnerability, the way his cool façade slips just for you. Even though he’s trying to play it off, you can feel the warmth in his posture, the way his arm tenses slightly as if to pull you closer.

His friends, however, are far from oblivious. Kaminari and Mina are practically glowing with grins as they exchange glances, amused by the way Katsuki tries so hard to act nonchalant. Kirishima's grin is wide and genuine, clearly happy for his best friend. They know this side of him, the softer side he shows only to you, and it’s a sight they cherish—though they’d never dare tease him about it, not seriously anyway.

“I just want somewhere with a beach,” you continue, keeping the conversation flowing as you sip your drink. “Maybe Okinawa. Maybe the Caribbean. I’m still figuring it out with our schedules, too.” Your voice is light, relaxed, but the longing for a break is evident in the way you speak. The whirlwind of fashion shows and shoots, though thrilling, has left you craving some time away—a place where you can unwind and just be.

Katsuki’s thumb absentmindedly strokes your waist as you speak, his subtle way of showing that he’s listening, even if he doesn’t say much.

“But I do know that I need a break,” you laugh softly, the exhaustion creeping into your tone, though it’s balanced with a sense of excitement for whatever comes next. “Something relaxing, somewhere far away from all of this chaos.”

Kaminari nods in understanding, his carefree grin softening into something a bit more thoughtful. “No, I get it. This whole thing is a lot, and you’ve been working hard. You gotta enjoy some time off.” His words are simple, but there’s an appreciation in his tone for the effort you’ve been putting in. Hero work, modeling, it’s all a lot, and sometimes people forget how much goes on behind the scenes.

You nod in agreement, grateful for his words, and the conversation begins to shift. Soon enough, they start talking about their hero work—patrols, training sessions, recent missions. You find yourself listening more than speaking, content to let the conversation flow around you. Your hand rests on Katsuki’s thigh, the soft fabric of his trousers warm under your palm. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers up and down, feeling the solid muscle beneath your touch. It’s a comforting gesture, one that feels natural between the two of you now, and you notice how it subtly relaxes him.

Katsuki, who usually has a sharp edge in his voice when he talks, is different tonight. His gruff tone is still there—because that’s just him—but it’s not harsh. He doesn’t bark his words or throw in as many biting remarks. When he speaks, it’s with measured authority, chiming in with his own thoughts on their hero work without dominating the conversation. He’s relaxed, at ease with you at his side.

You catch snippets of the conversation: Kaminari rambling about a recent mission that went awry, Sero and Mina debating the best techniques for urban rescue, Kirishima enthusiastically talking about new training regimens. Katsuki listens, occasionally grumbling an opinion or a sarcastic comment, but you can feel the quiet respect between him and his friends. They look up to him, even when they joke around, and he, in his own way, values their friendship deeply.

Every now and then, Katsuki’s hand moves to your back, brushing against your skin as if to remind himself that you’re still here, grounding him. It’s a small gesture, but it makes your heart flutter every time.

You gaze at him—really look at him—and it hits you: your boyfriend is like a supernova. His eyes, red but gleaming gold in the light, his messy blonde hair somehow still effortlessly handsome, and the way he fills out that sleek black blazer and those perfectly tailored pants. He looks absolutely irresistible.

And then, an idea starts to take shape in your mind.

You can’t help but grin mischievously, leaning further into Katsuki's side. You press a quick, feather-light kiss against the corner of his jaw when no one's looking, letting your fingers lazily trace patterns on his thigh. Your foot slides up and down along his ankle, a slow, deliberate tease that makes him stiffen slightly, his breath catching in his throat. For just a moment, his usual composure falters, and you feel the way his muscles tense under your touch.

A wicked grin spreads across your face as you lean in close to whisper, your breath warm against his ear, "Meet me in the bathroom from last time."

Katsuki’s sharp inhale is barely audible, but you hear it, and it only makes your grin widen. His reaction is perfect—a mixture of shock and anticipation. He tries to maintain his cool, but you can feel the tension radiating off of him, his grip on the glass in his hand tightening just slightly.

You pull back as if nothing happened, your expression innocent as you stand up. "I’m just heading to the bathroom," you tell the group with a casual smile, and no one bats an eye. But Katsuki knows better. His gaze follows you, smoldering, even as he tries to act unaffected.

With a teasing sway of your hips, you walk away, knowing full well that he's watching. The sounds of the party fade as you make your way to the more secluded part of the venue, the quiet settling around you. There’s a pleasant thrum in your body, the buzz of alcohol adding to the heady anticipation that builds with each step. You move through the hallways with ease, your heart pounding just a bit faster as you turn the familiar corners.

Slipping inside the private bathroom, you take a moment to check your reflection. The liquid gold of your dress shimmers under the soft lighting, clinging perfectly to your curves. You snap a few mirror selfies, the excitement bubbling up inside you, and even take a moment to fix your makeup.

A few minutes pass before you hear the door creak open behind you. Katsuki slips inside, his presence filling the small room immediately. His face is flushed, his usual scowl more pronounced, but you can tell he’s fighting it—his embarrassment, his frustration at how easily you get to him. It makes you laugh, a soft, teasing sound that fills the space.

"Don't look so grumpy," you tease, turning to face him fully. "You're about to get the best head ever, honey."

His ears turn an even deeper shade of red, the blush spreading across his neck, but all he can manage is a low, unintelligible grumble. He looks almost flustered, which is rare for him, and it only makes you smile wider. Before you can say anything else, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around your waist, his body pressing against yours from behind. His breath is warm against your skin as he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there.

The warmth of his mouth on your skin sends a shiver down your spine. His lips linger for a moment, soft and deliberate, before he pulls back, resting his head against yours. He’s relaxed now, his earlier tension melting away as his eyes become heavy-lidded, the earlier scowl gone. His hands stay firmly on your waist, holding you close, and you can feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest behind you.

You smile at both of your reflections in the mirror—Katsuki looking uncharacteristically soft, his gaze half-lidded and affectionate, while you’re practically glowing with warmth. It’s moments like this that remind you of why you love him so much. Despite the brash exterior, the sharp words, and the gruff demeanor, he’s always so gentle with you. He’s always so careful, so loving, in a way that makes you feel treasured.

"I love you," you say softly, turning your head to press a kiss on his cheek. He lets you, his lips curving into a faint smile before he tilts his head to capture your lips in a soft, whispery kiss. It’s slow, tender, and full of unspoken affection, his way of saying what he’s never been good at putting into words.

"Love you too," he mumbles against your lips, the words barely audible but sincere.

The simple exchange fills you with a sense of warmth, but you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face next. "Now, let’s get down to business," you say, your voice light with amusement.

Katsuki snorts, rolling his eyes, but there’s a trace of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah," he grumbles, his tone playful, "let’s get down to business."

You laugh softly, your heart swelling as you realize—this is your life now. Moments like this, the quiet intimacy, the teasing, the shared affection—it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it.

With Katsuki, it’s always exciting, always a perfect blend of passion and tenderness.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

final notes:

thanks for sticking around and for reading! this was such a fun story to write, and i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did.

here is my ko-fi :) as some of you may know, i’ve been sick and haven’t been able to work as much, so any support would mean a lot. no pressure, of course!

again, thank you so much, and until next time!

#bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #my fics #[fashion killa]#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut

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