wannabebabiedsobad

[wannabebabiedsobad]

masterlist

Daddy’s Little Baseball Fan

dad! choi seungcheol ll uncle! kim mingyu ll uncle! joshua hong

“STRIKE HIM OUT! STRIKE HIM OUT!”

Naeun’s tiny fists pumped in the air as she bounced on her father’s lap, her voice somehow carrying over the roar of fifty thousand baseball fans at Dodger Stadium. Choi Seungcheol winced as her elbow connected with his ribs for the third time, but his smile never wavered as he watched his daughter’s passionate display of team loyalty.

“Naeun-ah, maybe use your inside voice?” he suggested gently, though he knew it was futile. His daughter had inherited his competitive spirit in spades.

“But Daddy, they can’t hear me from up here!” she protested, turning to face him with wide, indignant eyes. “How will they know I believe in them?”

To Seungcheol’s left, Joshua Hong sat looking like he’d been through a war zone. His once-pristine white Lakers jersey was now decorated with sticky blue streaks, and he held a completely melted blue raspberry slurpee that dripped steadily onto his sneakers. His other hand clutched Naeun’s tiny pink princess backpack.

“Josh, you look like you lost a fight with a smurf,” Mingyu snickered from Seungcheol’s right, completely ignoring the fact that his own situation wasn’t much better. The tall man was attempting to balance a nacho tray, two hot dogs, a pretzel, and Naeun’s stuffed unicorn.

“At least I’m not the one who bought her a slurpee the size of her head,” Joshua shot back, glaring at his friend. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking she’s six and it’s vacation,” Mingyu defended himself. “Plus, Uncle Mingyu gives the best treats.”

“Uncle Mingyu gives the worst judgment,” Joshua muttered.

Naeun whipped around with lightning-fast reflexes. “Uncle Josh, Uncle Gyu, why are you fighting?”

“We’re not fighting, princess,” Seungcheol intervened quickly. “They’re just… discussing.”

“Loudly,” Naeun observed with brutal honesty. “Mommy says when people discuss loudly, they’re usually being silly.”

Both uncles had the grace to look sheepish.

“Your mommy is very smart,” Joshua said, finally giving up on the slurpee and setting it under his seat.

“The smartest,” Mingyu agreed. “Just like you.”

Naeun beamed, then immediately refocused on the game as the pitcher wound up. “COME ON, DODGERS!” she screamed, causing several nearby fans to chuckle.

“She’s got good lungs,” an elderly woman behind them commented with a kind smile.

“She gets that from her mom,” Seungcheol replied with a fond smile. “Who’s probably enjoying the quiet at her spa day right about now.”

“Smart woman,” the elderly fan laughed. “Leave dad with the loud one.”

Joshua turned to Naeun, eager to change the subject. “Remember when I told you I used to live here in LA?”

“When you were little like me!” Naeun nodded enthusiastically. “Before you moved to Korea and met Daddy and Uncle Gyu.”

“That’s right. I lived about twenty minutes from here until I was thirteen.”

“Can we see it?” Naeun asked immediately. “Like a field trip!”

The three men exchanged glances.

“I don’t know if the people who live there now would appreciate random visitors,” Seungcheol said diplomatically.

“We don’t have to go inside,” Naeun reasoned. “We can just drive by and you can tell me stories about little Uncle Josh.”

“Little Uncle Josh was very boring,” Joshua warned.

“No way,” Naeun replied confidently. “Nobody who becomes my uncle could ever be boring.”

“She’s got a point,” Mingyu grinned. “Plus, I’d love to hear some embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Please, Uncle Josh?” Naeun deployed her secret weapon - puppy dog eyes.

Joshua lasted approximately three seconds. “Fine. But we’re just driving by.”

“YES!” Naeun cheered. “This is the best vacation ever!”

The game ended with the Dodgers winning by six runs. Naeun was so excited she charmed a team photo from a nearby family before they made their way to the parking lot.

“Piggyback?” she asked hopefully.

“You’ve got two perfectly good uncles right here,” Seungcheol pointed out, though he was already bending down.

“Uncle piggyback is different from Daddy piggyback,” Naeun explained as she climbed onto his shoulders. “Daddy piggyback is for special times.”

“What makes this special?” Mingyu asked.

“The Dodgers won, I didn’t spill anything, and you two didn’t fight too much,” she listed. “Plus, we’re in Uncle Josh’s old home.”

Twenty minutes later, they were parked outside a modest two-story house in a quiet neighborhood, with Naeun pressed against the window.

“It looks normal,” she announced after inspection.

“What were you expecting?” Joshua asked, amused.

“Something more… Uncle Josh-y?”

“What’s Uncle Josh-y?” Mingyu wanted to know.

“Neat. And organized. And probably with really good snacks.”

“The snacks were good,” Joshua admitted. “My mom kept these chocolate cookies in red packages. I used to hide them so I wouldn’t have to share with my cousin.”

“That’s mean, Uncle Josh,” Naeun scolded gently.

“I was eight! Eight-year-olds aren’t good at sharing.”

“I’m six and I’m good at sharing.”

“That’s because you’re better than I was,” Joshua said sincerely.

“Speaking of sharing,” Mingyu interjected, “are we sharing dinner? I’m starving and I know a great Korean BBQ place.”

“Can we get ice cream after?” Naeun asked hopefully.

“You just had a giant slurpee,” Seungcheol reminded her.

“That was baseball food,” she explained patiently. “Ice cream is dinner dessert food. Completely different.”

“The logic is flawless,” Mingyu declared.

“Ice cream sounds perfect,” Joshua agreed. “I know a place with twenty-seven flavors.”

“Twenty-seven?” Naeun’s eyes went wide. “How do I choose?”

“Very carefully,” Mingyu said seriously. “It’s one of life’s most important decisions.”

“More important than choosing your favorite uncle?” Naeun asked innocently.

Both men immediately perked up, and Seungcheol groaned internally.

“Well,” Mingyu said carefully, “what are the criteria for favorite uncle?”

“I did buy her the giant slurpee,” Mingyu pointed out.

“And I carried her backpack all day,” Joshua added.

Naeun clearly enjoyed the attention. “I think you’re both tied for second place.”

“Second place?” they said in unison.

“Who’s first?” Joshua asked, though he suspected the answer.

“Daddy, obviously,” Naeun replied like it was ridiculous to ask. “He’s not just my uncle, he’s my daddy. That’s like being a super uncle.”

Both men deflated slightly but nodded in acceptance.

“Super uncle is definitely higher rank,” they agreed grudgingly.

“But you’re both really good regular uncles,” Naeun assured them kindly.

Dinner was chaotic - Naeun trying to cook her own meat under supervision, the uncles arguing over who got to sit next to her (she made them both sit on either side), and endless questions about everything from table grills to kimchi.

“It’s fermented cabbage,” Joshua explained patiently when she asked about kimchi.

“So it’s pickled?”

“Sort of.”

“I like pickles, therefore I like kimchi,” she decided, then took a big bite and immediately reached for water.

“Too spicy?” Mingyu asked sympathetically.

“Perfect spicy,” Naeun declared through watery eyes. “I’m just not used to perfect spicy yet.”

At the ice cream shop, Naeun approached the twenty-seven flavors with military precision.

“I need to try at least six,” she announced. “This is research.”

“She gets that from you,” Joshua told Seungcheol with amusement.

After careful sampling, she chose unicorn dreams and cookies and cream in a pink cone, providing running commentary on the day while eating.

“The best part was the super far baseball hit,” she decided. “But Uncle Josh’s old house was cool too.”

“What about the ice cream?” Mingyu asked.

“Ice cream doesn’t count,” Naeun said seriously. “Ice cream is just expected when you’re with the best uncles.”

“Expected?” Joshua repeated, amused.

“Daddy says you always make sure I have the best time, so ice cream is just part of that.”

Back at the hotel, Naeun fell asleep in the car. As Seungcheol carried her up, both uncles were already planning tomorrow’s activities.

“Beach?” Joshua suggested quietly.

“Uncle Josh wants to build sandcastles,” Mingyu whispered knowingly.

“Uncle Mingyu wants to teach her to surf.”

“She’s five!”

“They make tiny surfboards!”

“Let’s see what she wants,” Seungcheol interrupted gently. “Though she’ll probably want to hang with her mom first and tell her about today.”

After tucking Naeun in, Seungcheol settled by the window, looking out at LA’s lights. His wife was probably just finishing her spa day, completely relaxed. Tomorrow would bring new adventures and more uncle competitions, but tonight felt perfect.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered. “Tomorrow we’ll tell Mommy all about Uncle Josh and Uncle Gyu’s bickering.”

From next door, he could already hear muffled voices debating pancakes versus waffles for breakfast.

Some things never changed. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[wannabebabiedsobad]

HABADU DADDU CHEOL 🍒

[wannabebabiedsobad]

──★˙ 🎀 ̟ !! Where His Gaze Falls

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

They say if someone looks at you when they laugh, they like you. Not in the casual, passing way you like your song on the radio—but in that raw, unfiltered way where you’re the person they want to share the moment with. The theory had always sounded a little silly to you, like something girls whispered about in sleepovers, all giggles and knowing smirks. But then Katsuki Bakugo laughed, and he looked at you, and suddenly it didn’t feel so silly anymore.

It started quietly. The kind of thing you wouldn’t have noticed unless you were paying attention—except one day, you were.

You were sitting with the class in the common room, sprawled across the couch while Mina told some ridiculous story that had everyone wheezing. Laughter erupted, filling every corner of the space, but somewhere between the noise and the chaos, you caught it—Katsuki’s laugh, sharp and unrestrained, breaking out of him before he could bite it back. And in the middle of it, his eyes—burning red, soft at the edges—were looking right at you.

It wasn’t the “accidental glance” kind of look, either. No, this was deliberate. His shoulders shook with a chuckle, but his gaze didn’t drift, not even for a second. Like you were the only one in the room worth seeing laugh.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. A fluke. Maybe you just happened to be in his line of sight. But then it happened again. And again. And again. It didn’t matter if you were sitting across the room or right beside him—every time something made him laugh, his head would turn, his eyes would find you. It was like muscle memory. Automatic.

You didn’t notice it right away because you never thought someone like Katsuki Bakugo would… do that. But it hit you one evening when Kaminari made some joke that had him snorting, and even though Kirishima was clapping him on the back, trying to get him to laugh harder—he still looked over at you first. Almost like he was checking, Did you hear that too? Wasn’t that funny?

The night you decided to bring it up was a quiet one. Just you and him, sitting on the balcony after dinner, the air heavy with the smell of rain. He was leaning back in his chair, hair messy from the wind, and you were fiddling with your cup.

“You always look at me when you laugh,” you said suddenly.

He frowned, brows furrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m serious,” you pressed, smiling despite yourself. “We’re in a group, someone says something funny, everyone laughs—and then there’s you, looking at me like—”

“Like what?” he challenged, his lips twitching at the corners.

“Like you’re making sure I’m laughing too.”

“Tch,” he scoffed, turning his head away. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” you teased, leaning forward. “So if I start paying extra attention, I won’t notice it happening again?”

He glanced back at you, the faintest smirk breaking through. “…Maybe I just like seeing your stupid face when you’re happy. Got a problem with that?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “No. Just… didn’t think you’d admit it.”

Katsuki snorted, pushing himself up from his chair to stand behind yours. His hands rested on your shoulders, warm and solid. “You notice too much,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now. “It’s not my fault you’re the first thing I wanna look at when something’s good.”

And suddenly, you realized it wasn’t just laughter. When the food was good, when the sky was pretty, when the wind was nice—he always looked at you first.

[wannabebabiedsobad]

pt 1 here pt 2 here

jock!bakugo who had to get nerd!reader to stop crying during the homecoming dance. he promised to make it fun for her yet here she was, sitting on the bench outside with tears streaming down her face.

jock!bakugo who announced loudly that they were leaving. she'd stayed long enough and he couldn't bear listen to her cry anymore. he pulled her to her feet, dragging her back to his car. he didn't care if his friends looked for him. he needed to make this night fun for her. right now.

jock!bakugo who drove nerd!reader down to a local fast food joint as a first attempt at cheering her up. he order her whatever she wanted, sitting across from her and watching her eat. he knew he couldn't laugh, but he really wanted to. she looked like a sad little puppy sitting there with her ruined make up and his large jacket over her shoulders as she chewed slowly.

jock!bakugo who listened to her ramble. she felt so bad they left early...but in all honesty? he didn't give a shit. he wouldn't have gone if his friends hadn't dragged him. but at least he got to spend time with her...he didn't drive her home until she was absolutely okay and had at least one positive thing she couldn remember about the night.

jock!bakugo who was convinced that nerd!reader was ignoring him at the school the next week. she denied it, but the thought still lingered. he grabbed her hand when he saw her in the hallway, dragging her to a secluded corner and pressing her against the wall. why the fuck was she ignoring him?

jock!bakugo who panicked slightly seeing tears well in her eyes, voice growing soft as he coaxed an answer out of her. people were making picking on her for going with him? for making him leave early? she thought he was embarassed that he went with her. some people even told her that he asked her out as a bet. he scoffed loudly as she explained away her reasoning, hands covering her face. fuckers...

jock!bakugo who quickly assured her that no, he was not embarassed nor did he ask her for a bet. he wasn't that cruel. he wiped away nerd!reader's tears and did everything to assure her. he liked her for her.

jock!bakugo who froze once he realized he confessed. shit, he was NOT supposed to do that. he stared at her with his brows knit together, fist balled up tightly.

"you didn't hear that."

jock!bakugo who wanted to bash his head against the wall as she slowly nodded and affirmed that she did in fact hear his confession. she wasn't mad. she couldn't be. but someone like her? of all people? she didn't understand.

"let me take you out again. properly, this time. i promise to not let you cry. those damn extras are trash for making you feel like shit."

[wannabebabiedsobad]

"not like this anyway" 😳😵‍💫

You’d been standing there for a while. Too long, in Bakugo’s opinion.

He was sitting on the low brick ledge outside the training facility, elbows on his knees, looking like he’d just stepped out of an ad for "grumpy but handsome" — hair a windblown mess, black tank top clinging in all the right places, his water bottle sitting between his feet. And you, stubborn as ever, were leaning against the wall, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere far away, lost in your own irritation.

He noticed it before you even realized how long it had been. The way your weight shifted from one leg to the other. The way your knee bent slightly, like your body was ready to sit but your pride refused to give in. He rolled his eyes, but there was a softness there, the kind he’d never admit out loud.

“Oi, sit,” he said, tapping the space beside him with the flat of his palm. A quick, commanding motion — like he was calling you over.

Your brows shot up. “I’m not your damn dog, Katsuki.”

He exhaled through his nose—less frustration, more here we go again. Then he straightened a little, leaning back on his hands, tilting his face toward you with that lazy, infuriating smirk that somehow still made your stomach betray you.

"Love of my life. My heart. My one and only pain in the ass.” He gestured again, slower this time, like he was coaxing a wild animal. The words coming out like he was humoring you but also dead serious, “Can you please sit your stubborn ass down and make yourself comfortable? I don’t want your pretty legs to get tired—” he paused just long enough for his eyes to spark with wicked humor, “—not like this anyway.”

You blinked at him, your lips twitching despite your best attempt to keep a straight face. “Did you just—”

“Don’t make me repeat it.” He gave you that sharp, challenging look that made people think twice about arguing with him. But there was a warmth in his voice now, tucked between the rough edges, and you caught it instantly.

He patted the spot again, more insistent this time, like your place was already decided. And maybe it was.

Your face heated instantly, which only seemed to fuel the glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you with the smallest twitch. “You’re impossible.”

He shrugged, as if it was the first true thing you’d said all day. “And yet, you’re still standing there.”

For a beat, you debated holding your ground—both literally and figuratively. With a huff, you pushed yourself off the wall and sauntered over, slow and deliberately nonchalant, just to irritate him. He followed your every move with that lazy, hooded gaze — not the kind that meant he was bored, but the kind that said he was paying attention to every single detail.

When you sat down beside him, his knee brushed yours. He didn’t move away.

"See?” he said, leaning back a little, his voice low. “Better. Now I can keep an eye on you instead of wondering why the hell you’re over there looking like someone just ran over your cat.”

You snorted. “You’re terrible at comforting people, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he replied without hesitation, the corner of his mouth curving up. “But you like me anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but your shoulder bumped his — lightly, almost unconsciously — and for once, neither of you moved away.

This one was inspired by one chap (the sit part) of Spring Guardians & Songbird, I highly rec ittt!!

[wannabebabiedsobad]

bestfriend!katsuki says he’d marry you!

you and katsuki are sprawled out together on the couch, watching whatever action movie he had insisted on watching. at one point in the movie, a wedding scene began, and something popped into your head.

without looking away from the tv, “hey katsuki?”

“yeah?”

“who do you think you’re gonna end up with?” you ask.

he shoots you a look. “what’re you talkin’ about?”

“like! i dunno..” you pause, gesturing towards the tv. “like that. who you’ll marry someday.”

he shrugs and says simply: “figured it’d be you. if you don’t marry anyone else.”

you sit up and look at him, shocked. “what? why?”

his face is calm. casual. he looks at you, shrugging. “jus’ know. we already do all that dumb couple shit anyway. easy.”

you pause the tv. “that’s not how it works! it’s a for life commitment? until death do us part! you cant just—”

“it’s practical.” he cuts in. “I’d do all the cookin’, deal with everything, take care of you, then you can do whatever it is you do all day.”

you stare at him. “you’re not serious.”

he looks at you, “why wouldn’t I be? no point in lookin’ for something I already got.”

a nervous energy buzzed through you. “and what? we’d sleep in the same bed?”

he rolls his eyes, “we cuddle all the time, dumbass.”

you chime in. “it’s not the same!”

he smirks as you nod, slowly, barley taking in what he said. he nods back and unpauses the movie, like now its all decided. like its set in stone.

like he already has the ring.

.ᐟ

[wannabebabiedsobad]

SCOUPS FIC RECS pt.1

MDNI!

When in Rome by @highvern

WC: 24k | fluff, angst , smut

The Pen Pal Project by @mr-cha-n

WC: 10.2k | fluff

Willow by @cherriegyuu (series)

WC: 16.7k [total including all chapters + drabble] | angst, marriage of convenience

All roads lead back to you by @starlighkyeom

WC: 10.6k | exes to lovers, angst, smut

In this life by @trblsvt

WC: 13.47k | fluff, angst, hurt/comfort: exes!au

A seat across from you by @nerdycheol WC: 19.5k | strangers to lovers, fluff, slow burn

Track record by @nerdycheol

WC: 12k | f1! Au, fluff, smut

Too many beds by @miabebe

WC: 13k | frenemies to lovers, smut

Lowlifes by @milfgyu

WC: 11.5k | fluff, humor, gang!au, smut

Off the grid by @callisrecords (series)

WC: 46.5k [total] | angst, fluff, exes to lovers, f1!au

[wannabebabiedsobad]

thirty and VERY sexy

[wannabebabiedsobad]

Small Explosions of Happiness

Pairing: Bakugo katsuki x fem!reader!

Genre: wholesome, sweet

Setting: Musutafu hospital

The sterile white walls of the hospital room had been softened by the quiet hum of the heating vent and the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside your bed. You were propped up against the pillows, your hair a little messy but your face glowing—not in the cliché “new mom” way, but in the utterly exhausted, finally-I-can-breathe way. Your phone rested in your hands, thumbs idly scrolling through social media, though your attention kept drifting to the soft voices on the other side of the room.

Katsuki sat in the chair by the window, hunched slightly forward, as if the entire world now fit neatly into the bundle he was holding. His spiky blond hair was as chaotic as ever, but his eyes—those usually sharp, firecracker-red eyes—had gone soft. Softer than you’d ever seen them. He was cradling your son like he was holding something more precious than life itself, his big, calloused hands almost comically gentle against the tiny blanket-wrapped body.

Across from him stood Mitsuki, arms folded, but the corners of her mouth curved upward in an uncharacteristically tender smile. She was studying her son with quiet amusement, like she was watching a scene she had imagined for years finally play out.

“You’re holding him like you’re scared he’s gonna explode,” she teased, voice low but warm.

Bakugo didn’t even glance up. “Shut up. He’s sleeping.” The words came out in his usual gruff tone, but there was no heat behind them. His thumb shifted slightly to adjust the blanket near the baby’s cheek, and his gaze softened even more. “He’s perfect.”

Your lips curled into a small smile as you pretended to keep scrolling. Perfect. You’d never heard him say that about anything without at least a side note about how he’d make it better.

Mitsuki’s eyes flickered to you briefly, catching your tiny smirk. “Looks like you’ve turned my son into a big softie,” she said, leaning against the wall. “Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

Bakugo snorted. “Shut it, old hag. I’m not soft.” But then he glanced down at his son again, brushing the edge of the baby’s hat with his fingertip, and his voice dropped to a mutter. “Just… don’t wanna wake him up.”

You chuckled quietly, finally setting your phone on your lap. “You’re doing great, you know,” you murmured, your voice making both of them look at you. Bakugo’s ears turned pink, and Mitsuki smirked knowingly.

“Tch. ’Course I am,” Bakugo muttered, though the way he avoided eye contact told you he was secretly eating up the praise.

For a few moments, the room was filled only with the muffled sounds from the hallway outside and the soft, steady breathing of your newborn. Mitsuki stepped closer to her son, her gaze flickering between him and the baby.

“He’s got your stubborn face already,” she said, tilting her head. “Look at those eyebrows. He’s gonna start yelling before he even learns to talk.”

Bakugo gave a short laugh, one that almost startled you. “Good. That means he’s not gonna let anyone push him around.” His eyes met yours then, and there was an unspoken message there—one you’d seen countless times before but never this strongly: I’m gonna protect him. Always.

Your chest warmed, and you shifted slightly under the blankets. “He’s lucky,” you whispered.

“No,” Bakugo said quietly, his gaze steady on you now. “We’re the lucky ones.”

Mitsuki’s expression softened even more, though she covered it with her usual attitude. “Alright, you two are gonna make me start crying, and that’s not happening. Give me my grandson.”

Bakugo shot her a glare that was only half-serious. “You’ll wake him up.”

“Oh, please, I raised you. I know how to hold a baby,” she retorted, holding out her arms.

Reluctantly—so reluctantly it was almost funny—Bakugo stood and handed the tiny bundle over to her. You watched the subtle way his hands lingered for a moment, as if making sure Mitsuki really had him secure, before letting go.

Mitsuki’s face softened instantly as she cradled the baby, rocking gently. “He’s warm,” she murmured. “And heavy for a newborn. Must be all that Bakugo blood.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, but he was smiling—small, barely-there, but real. He sat on the edge of your bed now, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed yours. His hand found yours under the blanket, giving it a quiet squeeze.

“You okay?” he asked in a voice so low it was meant for you alone.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “More than okay.”

He exhaled through his nose, like he’d been holding that question in all day. “Good.”

And in that moment, between the steady warmth of his hand, the sight of Mitsuki quietly cooing at your son, and the soft hum of the hospital room, you realized something—this wasn’t just the start of a new chapter. This was your new life. And it was loud, messy, stubborn, and so, so full of love.

[wannabebabiedsobad]

"One More"

Pairings: K. Bakugo x F. Reader

Author's Note: These ideas are piling up and is now rotting inside my head, so might as well write some down. I wrote this during class, so don't ask why this is short 🥲

Warning: Swearing, Curse Words, Suggestive, Not Proofread

Getting assigned to a group where your academic rival is also assigned is not for the weak. What do you mean you have to argue with him just to make him understand your point about your topic?

What do you mean you always have to raise your voice so he can listen to you? What do you mean he just wants all his points to be right all the time, even if it lacks some information? What do you mean he dragged you away from the group to discuss with you in private at some random restroom?

What the hell does this all means? You're standing in front of him, face seething with anger and frustration. You probably look like a red tomato, but a very angry one. Him? Stood in front of you with ego and pride, furrowed brows from annoyance. Unlike earlier, he was responding snarky remarks to you, but now? He's awfully quiet.

His mouth shut, his fist clenched tightly that you can see his knuckles turn white, it's funny to see him hold himself back when all he do is speak words ten times worse than any person could imagine.

"What? You can't speak now? I'm talking to you here, you bastard."

"Hey! Are you listening? I said, if you would just follow my plan, our group's grades won't fall deep into hell as long as you cooperate."

You couldn't understand why wasn't he responding like he usually do, especially if he's being told that he's wrong. His eyes went from staring at your eyes, then trailed down to your lips. There's something in his eyes that you couldn't quite understand.

Just as you were about to speak, his lips already crashed into yours. Your eyes widen from how fast he was to latch his lips when you were about to talk. Slipping his tongue inside your mouth, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss.

Your hands found its way to his chest to push him away, but he was quick to act and gripped your waist, pulled you closer to him. You tried to push him away again, but his hands found its way to the back of your head, devouring your lips.

After 5 hot minutes, he broke the kiss and leaned back. Still holding you close to him. His eyes stared at your own, there was a small glint in it — telling you he wanted more.

You took this opportunity to catch your breath. His eyes never left your lips as he pants heavily. Once you calmed down a bit, your eyebrows furrowed, mouth opening to speak again.

"Just what the hell was that fo-"

He slammed his lips against yours again, this time more aggressive, like he isn't holding back anymore.

"You talk to much. Have you ever heard of shutting up?"

He nonchalantly replied, his face close to yours, breath fanning your lips. Your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to reply. He gently nibbled on your lips, a low chuckle coming from him.

"Didn't knew you had sweet lips, sweetheart."

"Can I have one more, angel?"

𔓐𑇓 Masterlist

[wannabebabiedsobad]

#295

[dino learning to drive]

*car moving backwards at 140mph*

Seokmin: *screaming*

Mingyu: SWITCH THE GEAR TO DRIVE OH MY GOD IT'S IN REVERSE

Chan: REVERSE? I THOUGHT IT MEANT RUN

Mingyu: HIT THE BRAKE

Chan: *steps on gas*

All three of them: *Screaming in unison*

[wannabebabiedsobad]

──★˙💍 ̟ !! You Will Marry Me

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

When Bakugo decides he’s going to propose, there are two things he knows with absolute certainty:

1. You’re going to say yes.

2. He doesn’t want to do anything cheesy.

So obviously, his grand idea starts with yelling at the Bakusquad for help, insisting it’s not for “a proposal, dumbasses, just a thing.”

That’s how the chaos begins.

Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t nervous. He kept telling himself that, pacing across the living room of Kirishima’s apartment where the so-called planning was happening. “It’s not even a proposal,” he grunted, arms crossed, eyes twitching toward the giant roll of white tarp Sero and Kaminari were unrolling across the floor. “It’s just... confirming what’s already true.”

It was supposed to be simple. Sero was in charge of hanging the banner. Kaminari was in charge of not screwing anything up. Mina was taking photos. Kirishima was doing crowd control because there was a cake and Bakugo didn’t trust anyone not to stick a finger in the frosting. And you—completely oblivious—were supposed to be lured to the park gazebo by a vague “Baku wants to meet you here real quick” text.

You thought it might be a picnic. Maybe even an apology for blowing off movie night three times in a row. What you weren’t expecting was a huge-ass banner draped across the trellis that screamed in bold red spray paint:

“YOU WILL MARRY ME.”

Not will you.

Not will you marry me?

Just—you will marry me.

In huge, all-caps, blood-red spray paint. No punctuation. Just raw, commanding, emotionally violent energy.

Your eyes bug. Bakugo’s already standing beneath it, trying to look all smug and cool and composed—but there’s a pink creeping up his ears and an unmistakable twitch in his jaw.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, staring up at the words. “Is this… is this a threat?”

“I told those fucking extras to double-check the damn banner—” he mutters, barely keeping himself from combusting on the spot.

"You’re literally threatening me into holy matrimony,” you said, half-choking on your own laughter.

Sero and Kaminari exchange wide-eyed glances from the bushes. “You had ONE JOB,” Mina whisper-yells.

You double over laughing. “I mean… I guess it’s accurate?”

Bakugo glares, fists clenched at his sides. “Tch. I knew you’d say yes, so why ask a question?”

“Oh my god, it’s so on brand,” you wheeze.

“Shut the hell up,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I was gonna be all cool and shit. You ruined it.”

“You’re the one who brought the mafia energy to a marriage proposal!”

But when he finally steps forward, eyes locked on yours, all the gruffness softens. His thumb grazes your hand—calloused and warm—and when he speaks, it’s quiet and sure.

“You’re mine. Been mine. Always will be. So yeah—damn right you’ll marry me.”

Your heart jumps, and your answer, of course, is a breathless, grinning:

“Yeah. Obviously.”

The BakuSquad erupts from the bushes like kids at a surprise party gone feral. There’s screaming. Cake flies. Kaminari rips the banner off the trellis, already vowing to paint a new one with glitter glue and proper punctuation. Bakugo groans into your neck while hugging you from behind.

“You love this mess,” you tease.

He grumbles something unintelligible into your shoulder.

“What was that?” you laugh.

“…Yeah, I fuckin’ do.”

And yet... when you looked at your shared apartment a week later, you found that same cursed banner—the one that screamed YOU WILL MARRY ME—folded neatly in a drawer under his hoodies.

You didn’t say anything.

But when you walked down the aisle months later, your vows began with:

“I was never asked to marry you…”

Bakugo rolled his eyes as the guests erupted in laughter.

“…I was told.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[wannabebabiedsobad]

Hiiiii thereeee!!!!!

I was hoping you could write something about Ex-husband Katsuki and they like co parents theri 7 yr old son.

And Kat's regretting everything, grovelling yearning, and longing something they could have been if he lowers his ego and pride. If he didn't miss important dinners, anniversaries and the way reader was tired being alone and thrown away.

Reader is now a university professor, with her son having half weeks visits from Kat's.

Idk how Kat's gonna woo Reader, you make the call cherrieshalo!!!

Love lotssss

y'all really be wanting divorced angst recently and you know what im so here for it

k.bakugo x fem!reader | angst but also fluff | prohero x professor | they're divorced LOL | 1.7k words

the first time it happened was your second wedding anniversary.

you sat quietly in the restaurant by yourself, staring at your drink as you assured the waiter that yes, your date was coming soon.

you felt pathetic as you flipped through the menu for what felt like the hundredth time just to seem busy. the waiter also came back for the hundredth time and you begrudgingly ordered yourself a slice of cake from the dessert menu. if your shitty husband couldn't show up, the least you could do is eat away your sorrows in a nice three-tiered chocolate mousse cake.

he finally arrived when you were leaving the restaurant, hair disheveled and smears of dirt across his face as he stumbled in through the doorway. you rolled your eyes with a sigh, informing him how you waited for over an hour and you were going home.  the second time it happened was the birthday dinner your friends organized.

katsuki said he would be there, he promised, but was too busy out playing in his dynamight persona to even inform that he'd be late. it hurt, but you couldn't let it show. atleast you weren't alone this time.

after getting home, you stuffed what was supposed to be his portion of the meal into the fridge. no note, no text, nothing. maybe he'd figure it out.

the third time it happened? it was the worst. it wasn't an anniversary, a birthday, an event, or something similar.

you sat staring at the several positive pregancy tests in your hand. you had tried to tell your husband three times prior during the week, but he always brushed you off. he didn't find out until he saw you changing almost twelve weeks since your first attempt at trying to tell him the good news. maybe things would be better now...

wrong.

katsuki never went to a single appointment. didn't care enough about the gender or the baby. didn't attend the baby shower. hell, he fucking missed the birth. he came to the hospital the day after your son was born, bringing flowers and making sure to stay by your side. why couldnt the fucker have done that yesterday, huh?

he was sure to take off his shirt as he held his newborn son for the first time, staring down at his little scrunched nose and sleeping face. you couldn't help but think that maybe it was all over that maybe he'd going back to being the attentive lover he used to be.  yet he missed his child's first steps, words, crawls, solid foods, birthdays...it was horrible. a pain. you didn't even care about your birthday or anniversaries anymore, just your husband's lack of presence in his own son's life.

your last straw was when he expected you to show up on his birthday. take work off, cancel your class. you quite literally could not and he blew a fuse about it.

you served him with divorce papers shortly after.

you weren't going to take shit from a man, especially not one that wasn't supposed to be giving you shit in the first place.

katsuki yelled, screamed, nearly cried in disbelief at the thought of ever losing you. that only fueled you to press for a divorce even harder.

he got visitation rights. fucking visitation rights.

he was pissed, of course he was. that was his son! but after getting home from court and staring at the wall for a solid hour, it occured to him why.

katsuki fucked up. and he fucked up bad.

hell, he didn't deserve anything more than visitation rights.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

after katsuki got back from a lengthy business trip overseas, your now seven year old son insisted to have his father over for dinner. at home, with you! and honestly? you didn't even know if you wanted that man to step foot into the elevator of your apartment complex. the last time you had dinner with that man was sometime after giving birth and you did not want to do that again.

but who were you to deny such a simple thing from your baby boy?

you reluctantly agreed, grumbling to yourself about the blond asshole while grocery shopping and preparing the meal. your son set the table the best he could, giving up his favourite seat to his father with a scribbled (and poorly spelled) dynamight card sitting over the plate. great, you'd have to sit next to your ex-husband...

the doorbell rang and the young boy ran to open the door, immediately being scooped up by katsuki with one hand and resting him on his hip. "hey there, champ," he pressed several kisses to his son's face. "you've been good? yeah? good, yes. got some presents for ya."

your son cheered as katsuki put him down, handing a few gift bags to the young boy as he scampered off to go open them. katsuki stepped into the kitchen, placing down another few gift bags. "hey, ma. thanks for having me."  "sure..." you mumbled, wiping your hands on your apron. "he insisted having you. i'm just doing it for him."

"okay. figured. still thanking you, though. got you some shit during my trip. you don't have to keep it," you heard him mumble as he shuffled out of the kitchen. you eyed the gift bags, quickly grabbing them off the counter and quickly throwing them in your room.

you didn't want to think about that right now.

the young boy helped serve dinner, putting a lot on his father's plate because he knew he could (and absolutely would) eat everything in front of him. you didn't realize it until it was mentioned, but somehow you managed to cook your ex-husband's favourite meal.  the one you'd cook for him when he came home exhausted or when it was just your turn to cook over all.

it felt bitterly domestic and you wanted to bang your head against the wall.

as the two chatted beside you, your fork pushed around the food on your plate. it felt endless, feelings as if it would never be cleared.

this is what your family was supposed to look like. your high school sweetheart, your son, and yourself. dinner's together every night, talking about the day, and cracking jokes at the expensive of trying to get your son to get out of his moody phase that every seven year old goes through about eating vegetables.

you quickly excused yourself from the table, the creaking of the chair barely heard as you fled to the bathroom.

you couldn't cry right now. this was supposed to be a happy moment for your son, but how normal everything felt was like a repeated stab to the heart. you paced nervously around the 10-step area, trying to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

getting upset over this was stupid.

you padded back out to the dining table and slid into your seat quietly before your thoughts were interupted by your son. "papa said he's taking me out for ice cream!! wanna come, mama??"

no. you really didn't.

the young boy pouted but nodded solemnly. "that's okay. he can be all mine!"

you wanted to vomit.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

as the new semester started, your thoughts were preoccupied with getting your child to school and getting to your own school on time. you had a track record for never showing up late and canceling class, so trying to wrangle the stubborn boy into his backpack and to the school gates was hard.

your heels clicked against the floor of the hallway as you attempted not to sprint to your lecture hall. stepping inside, you were greeted with a giant bouquet sitting directly on the podium.

huh, weird...you've never received flowers directly to your hall before. to your office for your birthday or as thank yous from the faculty, sure, but never where you held class.

after that, it became a weekly occurence.

you'd strut in during the start of each week to a new arrangement of flowers perched on the podium without fail. who the hell kept sending you flowers?

by the seventh week, there was a note. "good luck with midterms. -kb"

that little shit...

you sighed, beginning your morning lecture and pretending that your ex-husband sending over flowers was totally and completely normal.

during lunch, you hesitantly clicked on his contact and held your phone up to your year. the ringing of the dialtone reverberated in your head as you expected a third ring only for a voice to pick up.  "hey. i'm at the agency right now. do you need anything?"

shit, he picked up so fast.  "uhm, i..." fuck, maybe it wasn't him. but who the hell else did you know with the initials k.b??? "did you send me flowers?"  "yeah. have been for weeks now. thank you for finally fucking noticing." even over the phone your mind painted the picture the deep scowl on his face, brows knit together and forehead wrinkled.  "oh. why?"

"why not? thought you deserved them."

"we're not together anymore, katsuki. it's been 6 years..." you whispered into the speaker.  "tch."

the line went dead.

of course. cutting the line whenever confronted.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

once home, you quickly dug around in your room for the gift bags he left the last time he came over.

you never opened them, opting to leave them untouched as to not rub salt in the wound.

you sifted through each gift, the pit in your stomach growing deeper and deeper with each one.

the perfume he got you during a different mission overseas the first year the two of you were engaged. it was your favourite and you wore it everyday until it ran out.

some stupidly expensive watch to replace the shitty one you've been wearing to work for the last few years. your son must have tattled to him that you've been complaining about your's falling apart.

some fancy chocolates that were most likely expired now in flavours you used to gush to him about.

even after all these years, he still knew what you liked...

before you even knew it, tears started to roll down your cheeks. this was stupid. who the hell cried over their ex-husband years after a divorce?

you frantically reached for your phone, determined to call katsuki for the second time that day. you didn't even remember the last time you ever called him, but this was important.

maybe, after all these years, things could be salvaged.

maybe he didn't give up.

© property of cherrieshalo 2025 - please do not steal or copy my work to post elsewhere

[wannabebabiedsobad]

──★˙💋 ̟ !! First Kiss

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

It happened when you were ten.

A scorching summer afternoon. The smell of cut grass, and you, Katsuki, and Izuku tearing across your backyard in a chaotic game of tag. Bakugo was “it,” and you were sprinting across the grass like your life depended on it. You turned a sharp corner around a tree, and Katsuki, reckless and charging like a mini landmine, crashed into you at full speed.

You both fell—hard. There was a shout, a thud, and then—

Mouth. To. Mouth.

It was clumsy, instant, entirely accidental—but your lips had touched. His were dry from running. Yours were trembling from shock. Time stopped. The world paused.

But it happened.

You both shot up, faces red.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" he screamed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand aggressively, like he just swallowed a spider.

"You ran into me!" you screeched back, flailing like your whole soul had short-circuited. “Gross!!”

From a safe distance behind the fence, a little green-haired Izuku Midoriya stood frozen with wide, horrified eyes, like he’d just witnessed a crime.

None of you ever talked about it again. Sworn into silence by childhood embarrassment and unspoken shame.

Fast forward to now—third year at UA.

The Bakusquad was lounging around—Mina was painting her nails pink and obnoiously sparkly, Sero and Kaminari were trading dumb memes, Kiri was mid-laughing at something, and you were comfortably curled up in the corner couch reading a book, legs slung over the armrest. Katsuki had taken the beanbag near you, grumbling about something dumb that probably didn’t matter.

The topic turned to first kisses—because Mina always gets bored and starts chaos when it’s too quiet.

“So, who here’s had their first kiss?” she grinned, eyes gleaming like a gossip shark.

Kaminari raised a hand. “Middle school. Spin the bottle. Super lame—her lips were like sandpaper.”

“Ew,” Sero deadpanned.

Kirishima chuckled. “Mine was second year. It was kinda awesome, not gonna lie.”

Everyone turned toward Bakugo like bloodhounds. “What about you Dynamight?” Mina turned, eyes narrowing with devilish intent.

Katsuki didn’t look up from the protein bar he was munching on. “Not tellin’.”

"Oh come on,” Kaminari groaned. “You seriously telling me someone kissed you and lived to tell the tale?”

“Bet he growled the whole time,” Sero snorted.

“You’re so full of shit,” Bakugo scoffed, arms crossed and already annoyed.

“Wait, wait, wait—are you saying you’ve actually kissed someone?” Kaminari leaned forward, absolutely invested.

“That’s confidential, electric dumbass.”

“So you’re dodging. Meaning no kiss.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Awww c’monnn,” Kaminari whined, nudging him with a pillow. “Bet no one even wants to kiss your grumpy ass!”

“Yeah, who’d willingly kiss someone with murder in their eyes 24/7?” Sero snorted.

Katsuki looked up slowly. “You sure about that?”

That shut everyone up.

Your eyes didn’t leave your book, but your fingers stiffened just a little on the page.

Mina practically flew off the couch. “YOU’RE LYING. WHO? WHO KISSED THIS BOMB GREMLIN?”

He tilted his chin toward you—just slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You... you don’t mean—” she started, eyes darting between you and Bakugo.

“NOPE,” you said loudly, trying to bury your face in your book like it was a bunker. “We’re not doing this.”

“What aren’t we doing?” Mina blinked.

Izuku, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly choked on his drink.

Bakugo smirked. “It counts, dumbasses. Doesn’t matter if it was seven years ago.”

“WHAT?!”

“HUH?!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SEVEN YEARS AGO??”

Kaminari practically fell off the couch. Sero started howling with laughter. Mina’s jaw was on the floor.

“You kissed someone when you were ten?” Kirishima gasped, absolutely gobsmacked.

“It was an accident!” you shrieked. “We were children! We were playing tag and he literally tackled me—”

“Landed on her face,” Bakugo added casually, like he wasn’t the center of a social apocalypse.

“You remember?!” you accused, throwing your book at him. He caught it one-handed and chuckled.

“You never forget your first,” he said smugly.

“IZUKU,” Mina suddenly turned. “YOU KNOW SOMETHING DON’T YOU.”

Izuku just sat there, trembling, whispering, “I saw it. I saw it happen.”

Kaminari hit the floor laughing. Kirishima doubled over and Mina screamed. You wished the couch would swallow you whole.

And Bakugo? He leaned back against the beanbag like he was a king on his throne.

“Bet none of you extras had your first kiss with someone as badass as me.”

“YOU TACKLED HER INTO IT.”

“Still counts.”

Chaos. Absolute, explosive chaos.

And from that day forward, you couldn’t look at your childhood tag partner without seeing ten-year-old him screaming in your face while your lips still tingled with shock.

Bakugo never let you live it down.

And Izuku? He still has flashbacks.

[wannabebabiedsobad]

🍼 Bakugo Finds Out You’re Pregnant – “You’re Not Alone in This”

—

The bathroom door had been closed for way too long.

Bakugo stood in the hallway, arms crossed, pacing just slightly. You’d been acting strange for days, waking up sick, spacing out during meals, and avoiding caffeine like it was poison (which, to him, was the biggest red flag).

He’d asked what was wrong.

You brushed it off.

But this morning, you nearly cried over burnt toast, and he knew something was up.

So when he heard the quiet click of the lock and the door slowly open, he turned immediately. You were standing there, holding something small and white in shaking hands.

Your face was pale. Your eyes wide.

“…Katsuki.”

His heart dropped. “What?”

You opened your palm, showing him the test. Two lines. Clear as day.

He stared at it.

Then at you.

Then at it again.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Katsuki Bakugo was speechless.

“I… I didn’t know how to tell you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I just found out. I wasn’t planning-I mean, we weren’t-”

He stepped forward, gently taking the test from your hand. His fingers brushed yours, warm and grounding. He stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“…This is real?” he asked quietly, like the weight of it hadn’t fully hit yet.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah.”

A long pause.

You didn’t expect what came next.

Not an explosion. Not yelling. Not panic.

Instead, he exhaled slowly, deeply. Then his hands came up, one cupping the back of your head, the other settling on your waist. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re really pregnant,” he said again, more to himself than to you.

Another nod. A tear slipped from your eye.

You felt him tense, but only for a second.

Then,

“…Okay.”

Your brows lifted. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes burning but steady now. “We’ll figure it out. You and me.”

“But are you-?”

“I’m scared shitless,” he cut in honestly. “But I’m not running. Don’t you ever think I’d run.”

You broke then, sobbing into his shoulder.

And he held you tighter than he ever had before.

“You’re not doing this alone,” he whispered, more softly than you’d ever heard him. “You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

After a few moments, he pulled back just enough to glance down at your stomach, jaw tight, eyes soft.

“…Damn kid’s gonna be loud as hell,” he muttered.

You laughed through your tears.

“Good,” you said. “Just like their dad.”

[wannabebabiedsobad]

babyyyyy

[wannabebabiedsobad]

I loved queenbee reader and jock Bakugou, so I’m pretty please asking for jock Bakugou who is known for having a girlfriend who “doesn’t go here she’s from another school”. No one believes his ass until prom night when he brings his girl and it’s a girl from a preppy school. I’m going to throw out she’s the head of her school debate club but personally not completely sold on that so if you do write this feel free to change it.

STOP WAIT I LOVE THIS im gonna have so much fun tysm!!

no one believed him when jock!bakugo said he had a girlfriend. him? girlfriend? someone was actually able to deal with his ass? yeah, no way! his friends were in denial. is teammates were in denial. his classmates were in denial. there was absolutely no way in heaven, hell, or earth that he had a girlfriend.

jock!bakugo who claimed she went to a different school. he never said which one, just rolling his eyes when he'd be asked. his teammates tried to see if he made eyes at any of the girls on the bleachers during games, seeing if this mysterious girl really did go to a different school or if he was just saying that to get them off his ass.

there were small hints of jock!bakugo's girlfriend on his instagram. an occaisional post on his story of a blurry picture of their hands laced together or another blurry candid of her looking off at the sunset. all of his many posts had her in the comments, too. but to the despair of his friends, there was only one post on her account and her face wasn't even in the frame!

jock!bakugo who would turn down hang out opportunities because he was going out with his girl.

"sorry dude, can't. promised my girl that i'd see that new chick flick or whatever with her. what? no, i don't like shit like that. but she does. that's all that matters."

"no i don't want to go to your house tonight, what the fuck? my girl is coming over and pampering me. skincare and shit. i dunno, but she said it's fun."

jock!bakugo who had his guest for prom listed as his girlfriend, causing a stir throughout the upcoming graduating class. was she actually real? or did he pay some random girl to attend? it didn't matter, his friends were excited to meet her!

jock!bakugo who entered the venue proudly with the most gorgeous girl on his arm, his tie matching to her dress. she looked absolutely breathtaking'- hair styled perfectly, makeup flawless, heels high and smile radiant. the sight of you nearly knocked out the souls of his friends!

holy shit, katsuki bakugo does in fact have a girlfriend.

jock!bakugo who introduced her to his friends and teammates, arm proudly around her waist as he ranted about all her accomplishments. she went to that stupidly rich prep school right outside of town on a notable scholarship, captain of her school's debate team, an honors student, and was the founder of a new club at her school.

jock!bakugo who smirked as he saw all his friends' jaws go slack in shock. how the hell did he pull her? wait, did she say they've been dating for 8 months?? who the hell can put up with him for that long?! his smirked widened as she tugged him onto the dance floor with a grin.

jock!bakugowho reposted the only post of herself on her own instagram, a slideshow of images from prom with a simple caption of a few hearts and the cutest photos she could find of him kissing her cheek.