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Bakugo Katsuki - Blog Posts
day 5 of daily wacom art so i get used to it
431 is a mixed bag but i love that Bakugo is in tune with his emotions, he realized that Deku is a special person to him and can live with that, regardless of where they stand, whether Izuku reciprocates that committment. that's such a nice testament of Bakugo's growth :)
Hii!! If you can, can you write Katsuki x fem reader where reader is scared of being intimate with Katsuki because she's very insecure about her body and Katsuki reassures her? It can be both comfort and smut!! XOXO
To Worship
Katsuki wasn’t stupid. He could tell when something was off, especially when it came to you.
He noticed it in the way your body stiffened whenever his hands wandered beneath your shirt. The way your breath hitched, not from pleasure, but hesitation. The way you pulled back just before things went too far.
It pissed him off—not because you weren’t giving in, but because you were holding yourself back. From him.
Tonight was no different. You were straddling his lap, lips swollen from his kisses, body warm and trembling in his arms, but the moment his fingers slipped beneath your top, you tensed.
"Oi," he muttered, pulling back to look you in the eye. "The fuck’s goin’ on?"
You shook your head quickly. "Nothing."
"That’s bullshit." His crimson eyes burned into yours, sharp but not unkind. "Talk to me."
You swallowed hard, trying to look away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Y/N."
Your chest ached at how soft he said your name.
"I just…" You exhaled shakily. "I don’t want to disappoint you."
His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face. "What the hell does that mean?"
You bit your lip. "I’m not… perfect, Katsuki. My body isn’t—"
"Don’t you dare finish that sentence." His voice was rough, but his touch was gentle as his hands moved to your waist. "You think I give a fuck about that?"
Your vision blurred with unshed tears. "I don’t want you to see me and—"
"Tch." Katsuki scoffed, then leaned in, brushing his lips over yours. "You’re fuckin’ perfect to me."
You gasped softly as he kissed you again, slower this time. His fingers traced over your skin with a reverence that made your heart ache.
"You don’t gotta hide from me, baby," he murmured against your lips. "Lemme show you how much I love every damn part of you."
Your breath stuttered as he guided you onto your back, his body hovering over yours. His hands, usually rough and calloused, worshipped your curves, tracing over every dip, every scar, every so-called imperfection like they were something sacred.
"God, you’re beautiful," he muttered, voice thick with want. "Can’t believe you ever doubted that."
Heat pooled in your stomach as he kissed his way down your body, worshipping every inch of you with lips and tongue. The tenderness in his touch made your insecurities feel so small, so insignificant.
And when he finally pressed into you, stretching you so perfectly, he held you close, his forehead resting against yours.
"You feel that?" he groaned, voice shaking. "That’s how much I fuckin’ love you, baby."
A soft whimper escaped your lips as he moved, slow and deep, his hands gripping yours as he made love to you like he had all the time in the world.
No rush. No shame. Just him showing you, over and over again, just how beautiful you were in his eyes.
And for the first time, you believed it.
Katsuki moved with a kind of intensity that left you breathless—not the usual rough, explosive passion he carried in everything he did, but something deeper. Something unshakably devoted.
His hands never stopped moving, mapping out every part of your body with deliberate care. When your breath hitched as his fingers traced a soft curve or a spot you weren’t fond of, he lingered there, pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses to your skin as if to tell you, I love this. I love you.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he pushed deeper, hips rolling slow and deliberate. “So tight… fuck, baby.”
Your legs trembled around his waist, pleasure sparking through every nerve as he kept you close—chest to chest, fingers tangled with yours. His pace never faltered, never rushed, stretching the moment between you like something precious.
A whimper slipped from your lips, and Katsuki was on you immediately, capturing the sound with a kiss, swallowing it down like he needed it to breathe.
“S’okay, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you again, softer this time. “You don’t gotta hide from me. Ever.”
You let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the way he was looking at you—like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Tears pricked at your eyes, and Katsuki’s expression softened, his thrusts slowing to a near stop as he cupped your face.
“Shit, baby,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your eyelids, kissing away the tears that slipped free. “Didn’t mean to make you cry.”
You shook your head quickly. “No, it’s… it’s not bad.”
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping into something rough and tender all at once.
“You believe me now?” he asked, hips shifting just enough to make you shudder.
You gasped, fingers tightening against his as heat coiled deep in your stomach.
“Katsuki—”
“Say it,” he rasped, his other hand slipping down your waist, pressing into the flesh there like he was grounding himself in you. “Say you believe me.”
You swallowed hard, body trembling beneath him, pleasure crackling through your veins like wildfire.
“I—” You gasped as he pushed deeper, hitting the spot that made you see stars. “I believe you.”
A low groan rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening. “Damn right, you do.”
His pace picked up just enough to steal your breath, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you to the edge with slow, deep strokes that left you unraveling beneath him.
“Let go, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “I got you.”
And with one last roll of his hips, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Katsuki followed right after, burying himself deep with a groan, his grip unrelenting as he spilled into you.
For a long moment, all you could hear was your own heartbeat, the slow, steady rise and fall of your breaths mingling with his.
Then, Katsuki shifted, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.
“You ain’t ever gotta doubt yourself again,” he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer.
You curled into him, chest aching in the best way, and whispered,
“I won’t.”
Im a sucker for angsty fwb Bakugo and messy feelings.
!! Major spoilers for the manga btw !!
The two of you almost never meet like that. It’s almost pushing it to ten times a year in a never ending circle of non commitment and broken promises, words that are only exchanged during intimacy that none of you can’t help but utter and trutfully tonight shouldn’t have been different.
But he agreed to let you stay at his place for the night—you think it’s because he doesn’t want to drive you home and you settle on the couch, in a corner, not even wanting to wrap yourself up in a blanket. He takes none of it, preaching about how he’s not going to let you crash on the couch, that you can sleep with him in his bed.
As you’re given a change of clothes to sleep in and a toothbrush, you avoid looking right into his face.
You know better than anyone why he doesn’t want to commit to you, he doesn’t want you to really see him, he’d rather shut himself away from you. You’re not someone he considers an equal, you’ll never even be close to leveling up with him. You know he hates that about you. That you’re weak. That you gave up on being a hero after the war because of everything that happened.
“Bathe and we can sleep” he says and he gives you a towel and a pair of his boxers.
He already had his shower, he already smells like that orange blossom shower gel and bitter almond shampoo that he has, he already smells like clean laundry and you reek of sinful non committal, casual sex.
You enter the shower and the water running is so hot that it could scorch your skin. You like it that way, feeling the water pierce like fire needles through your skin, stripping away everything in its collision with flesh.
You try not to burst into tears— he’d think it’s bad manners, lecture you for it and you’re not in the mood for any of it. It’s overwhelming and self distracting to think of him that way— your therapist says that you should make an effort to understand him and you really do, you do understand why he acts like he does but it doesn’t leave you with anything to do about it.
You just want to go home, in your clothes, in your bed. The feeling in your heart is unbearable.
But your therapist has repeatedly told you not to sweep the problem under the rug; just talk to him. Don’t just sit in the comfort of the scent of his shower gel and his clothes. Confront him. Tell him you love him and that you’ll stick by his side no matter what.
And it all sounds perfect in theory. Really, it does. Except for the part where you can’t even look at him.
When you look at him, even almost ten years later all you can see is his lifeless fucking body laying under Best Jeanists hands.
So Katsuki knows better than anyone why you can’t accept him, why you can’t commit to him and it drives him absolutely insane.
He is always clothed around you, during sex, during coffee dates to catch up; he puts in the most exquisite effort to avoid showing you his scars.
And when he can’t just hide the one on his face, you respond by not even looking him in the eye. That, as a fact, pains him more than anything.
Frankly, he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to bear it.
But tonight— tonight he’s gonna do it — he’s gonna tell you that he loves you. And then his own feelings will be your problem.
When he hears the shower stop running, he sits on the edge of his bed, one leg bouncing in anticipation; is tonight the right time? Should he do it? And if not now then when? Can he really just let you slip away, or will his confession make you force yourself to be with someone you can’t even look at.
Why are the two of you even involved at all if you think he is so repulsive?
The bedroom door creaks open before he has time to actually process a sequence of words to tell you— and you step out, your hair damp, clinging to your neck in heavy strands. His shirt swallows you whole, draping over your frame, and his boxers sit awkwardly on your hips, a poor attempt at comfort that neither of you will acknowledge. You still don’t look at him.
Of course, you fucking don’t.
Katsuki clenches his jaw. His leg keeps bouncing—until he forces it still, pressing his palm hard against his knee. He’s getting sick of this. Sick of watching you shrink into yourself, sick of the way you refuse to meet his gaze, sick of the ghosts that sit between you, molding the shape of your relationship into something that barely resembles one.
You tug at the seams of his T-shirt to hide the scars on your neck and the ones on your stomach and torso sit hidden, snuggly, underneath the cloth of it.
He knows what you’re doing because unlike you, he is looking at you.
“…Come here,” he mutters, voice gruff, barely above a whisper.
You hesitate. You fucking hesitate. But he wants to kiss you. He wants to sit you on his lap and kiss your lips, your neck, your chest. He wants to kiss your scars, no matter the fact that they’re spread all over your body.
This is the first and most major difference between the two of you and that’s what pisses him off the most. He accepts parts of you you don’t accept about yourself or him.
But eventually, you move, each step slow, reluctant, as if walking toward him is some great act of suffering. You sit on the bed—on the very edge of it, like you’re prepared to run, not on his lap like he wants.
You play out of the premeditated scenario he’s crafted in his head for this moment.
Katsuki feels something inside him snap.
His fingers twitch, nails digging into his palm, the words crawling up his throat like acid, burning to be let out.
You won’t even look at him.
And yet—you still come back to him, time and time again, you come back.
“Sit on my lap” he says, patting on his thighs with one hand, coaxing yours with his other. “Want you close so we can talk”
You don’t answer. You can’t answer, just follow his lead and hover your legs over his, as you crawl your way onto his lap.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” he asks, his voice quiet, sharp and cutting through the thick silence between you.
“M not doing anything” you mutter in response.
“That’s the problem”
Yet, he cradles you, the problem, into his arms, big, strong biceps pressing you close to him, holding your head right into his chest.
His heartbeat is loud— too loud for someone who once died, too real. Technically there’s nothing you should be scared of, he’s here with you, holding you and all you want to do is run away. Something inside you screams at you to run home, that this isn’t real. That he died and wasn’t saved, that you’re imagining all this.
But right underneath his shirt is his scar. And the ones on his forearm are visible now that he’s wearing a T-shirt.
“Should I go ahead and laser remove the scars?” Katsuki asks while the two of snuggle against each other.
“Huh? Why?”
“Cause ya don’t like looking at em, I’ve noticed. So would you look at me then?!”
Your stomach twists at the mention of the words, even if they’re so soft spoken and without thinking, your eyes dart down—just for a second—before flicking away again. Just the thought of it, the way the skin is raised and uneven, makes your throat tighten.
You swallow hard, fingers gripping the edge of his shirt. His fingers trace circles on the skin over the band of your -his- boxers.
“That’s not—” You take a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. “I just…”
“You just think im ugly and you’d rather leave, that’s what you want to say isn’t it?”
“I don’t handle… that kind of stuff well.” You don’t say the word. You don’t want to. Just thinking about it makes your skin crawl. “It makes me feel sick to my stomach. And thinking about how you got them—” Your voice catches, and you look down again “It’s too much.”
Silence.
Then, Katsuki scoffs, but it’s weak. “Figures.”
Your head snaps up. “What?”
“Real fuckin’ great, huh?” He curses “I wanna tell you that I fucking love you and you’re here telling me I make you sick— what the fuck is wrong with me?”
You break free from his bear-like hug, only to stare at him, wide-eyed, heart hammering. You hate seeing him like this—hunched slightly, fists clenched, looking at his reflection in your eyes like it’s something disgusting. Like he’s something disgusting.
He isn’t though, he’s strong, he’s beautiful, he’s anything and everything you can’t lose. Nobody ever tells him, you don’t either, you just act like he’s made of glass and then leave as if he can’t or won’t shutter.
He just told you he loves you.
You love him too. You’re in love with him.
Does he even want to hear it after the shit you just spurt at him?
You grab at his face like it's instinct and press your nose to his, locking your eyes into his, breath hitched in the back of your throat. You avoid making any noise, scared that you’re going to ruin this by just existing.
If it’s been so many years and he’s still alive, you shouldn’t patronise his feelings because of your own trauma.
He’s here. He’s alive and he loves you and the pad of your thumb brushes over the scar on his cheek.
Your stomach still churns at the thought of his injury, but you force yourself to step forward, reaching out carefully. “Katsuki.”
Silence.
It’s just like he wanted. His love for you is your own problem now. He can only beat and scar himself further over the fact that he said ‘I love you’ like a curse.
Your stomach twists for a completely different reason now. “Katsuki, I love you too.”
Your lips brush against his, softly. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t even stop you.
He wants to kiss you. Lips, skin, soul. Everything that is yours he wants to put his lips on.
And he does.
His mind goes blank the moment your lips touch his. It’s like a surge of electricity floods his body, short-circuiting everything logical, everything that was screaming at him to hold back, to keep his mouth shut, to not want this more than he already does.
But he does want this. He always has.
Your lips move against his—hesitant at first, unsure, like you’re still trying to convince yourself this is okay. That he’s okay. And that hesitation guts him. It rips through his chest in ways that no explosion ever could, because it reminds him of the truth:
You love him.
You’re not afraid to keep your eyes open and he isn’t afraid to keep his eyes open too.
The two of you probably look like lunatics, kissing with your eyes open, but it’s only because you can’t get enough, it’s never enough, even when you kiss just to have sex it’s not enough.
Katsuki wants to melt into you, he wants to disintegrate into one person with you. He feels like his heart will combust— no, he fears that his heart will combust and he’ll leave you scarred forever.
But he’s done that once already.
His fingers tighten their grip on your waist, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. You’re warm. Real. Sitting right here, on his lap, wrapped up in his clothes, wrapped up in him. It’s a fucking miracle.
He kisses you deeper, almost desperately, parting his lips to taste more, feel more, take more. Your hands are still on his face, trembling slightly, but you don’t pull away. Not yet. And he clings to that like a dying man, pouring everything he can’t say into the way he mouths at you, the way his tongue flicks against yours, the way he tilts his head just right to fit against you perfectly.
His heart is pounding—too fast, too loud. He wonders if you can feel it, if you notice just how much he’s shaking. Because Katsuki does not tremble. Never. He does not doubt himself. He does not need.
Except with you.
With you, he’s terrified.
He’s scared you’ll push him away after this, that you’ll realize just how broken he really is, that loving him is more trouble than it’s worth. He’s scared you’ll come to your senses and run.
Because deep inside he’s convinced himself you’ve been keeping your distance because you think he’s ugly. Disgusting. A byproduct of a rotten hero society.
So he kisses you like he can keep you here. Right in his arms. Like he can erase all your doubts, all your hesitations, all your pain. He kisses you like an apology, a plea, a confession—because maybe it is all of those things.
Maybe it’s all of these things.
And when you don’t stop him,when your hands slide into his hair, pulling him closer, keeping him right here in your arms, he swears he could cry like a newborn.
“I know it’s stupid,” you say, breaking the kiss, only for him to whine against your lips, “but I can’t stop feeling like if I look too long, if I think too hard about it, it’ll happen again. I— I get panic attacks for hours when I remember the way you laid there, lifeless. Katsuki I don’t ever want to see that again. Im scared.”
You don’t have to pull away to continue, you need him as much as he needs you. And so you speak against his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I hate you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to look at you. I'm scared that if I look at you for too long you’ll stop being real. I wanna be with you always, I want you to be here so bad. All the time.”
Katsuki is silent, staring at you like he doesn’t know what to say. His fingers twitch again before he finally, finally moves, cupping the back of your neck and tugging you against him, sealing your lips in another kiss.
You let out a shaky breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you press your face into him.
His grip is tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from his lap. “I’m here,” he mutters into you, voice soft. You’re not to be fooled with that patchy ass voice he pulls for everyone else “Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“But I still hate this scar,” he continues, whispering “Hate what it reminds me of. But if it means I get to stand here with you, get to hold you” He swallows thickly. “Then I’ll keep it.”
Your heart lurches.
A shaky breath leaves your lips, and without thinking, you reach up, gripping his face between your hands again. His skin is warm, slightly rough, chapped by the sudden change of weather, but real.
You don’t look at the scar this time. You don’t have to. Instead, you look at him as a whole; his furrowed brows, his slightly downturned lips, his tired, burning eyes, his blond lashes that you used to make fun of in high school.
It all makes sense now.
His breath stutters. His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly, and before you can say anything else, he crashes his lips onto yours again.
It’s desperate. A little too messy. Like he’s trying to pour every ounce of regret and relief and love into it all at once. You gasp softly against his mouth, your hands tightening around him, and he groans low in his throat, pulling you impossibly closer.
He kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. And you kiss him back just as fiercely, because you need to remind yourself that he is real. He’s not going anywhere but here.
Katsuki’s breath is heavy against your skin, his forehead still pressed to yours, his fingers still gripping you tight. But something shifts. It’s something sharp, electric, crackling in the space between you.
He’s teetering on the edge of restraint.
Your own breath shudders as he exhales, hot and uneven. You’re still pressed against his chest, against the scar that used to make your stomach twist, but right now, all you can feel is him.
And then, he moves.
In a blur of motion, Katsuki grabs your thighs and yanks you, throwing you and himself into the bed before you can even process it. You gasp, hands flying up to steady yourself against his shoulders, but he doesn’t give you a second to think.
His mouth crashes against yours, hot and desperate, nothing like before. The trembling kisses from earlier can’t even compare to this one. This one is feral.
Like he’s been waiting for this moment to break and go berserk.
A muffled sound escapes you as his hands roam, gripping, squeezing, pulling you closer like there’s still too much distance between you. His fingers dig into your thighs, sliding up under your shirt, palms rough and searing against your skin.
You barely have time to process before he’s tilting his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping against yours in a way that makes your stomach twist and turn.
He groans, low and hungry, and the sound sends a sharp, molten heat straight through you. Katsuki has always been intense, but this—this is something else.
This is unrestrained.
This is him. Losing control. And you’re the cause.
His hands move again, gripping the hem of your shirt and tugging it upward, fingers brushing over your ribs. His lips break from yours just long enough to drag hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone—teeth scraping, tongue soothing, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Your fingers tangle in his hair, breathless, gasping, barely able to keep up with the way he’s touching you like a starved man.
He doesn’t just kiss you any more. He’s devouring you whole.
His breathing is ragged, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and swollen. His hands are still on you, still gripping you tight, but he doesn’t move or push any further. He just looks at you, like he could burn you, melt you into goo with his gaze.
And then he pleads, “Say it again?”
Tell me you want me. Tell me you love me and it’ll all stop being an amalgamation of emotions.
The unspoken words hang between you and all you can do is lay there, on your side, and watch him watch you like you’re a rough diamond in the making.
You don’t deny him of anything. You speak the words as if your life depends on them.
“I'm in love with you”
He tightens his arms around you, pressing you so close that it’s almost suffocating but he can’t help it. He needs you like this, needs to feel the warmth of your body, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the proof that you’re being for real as it’s written on your palpitating heart. That this isn’t some cruel dream that’ll slip between his fingers the second he wakes up.
His lips ghost over yours again, desperate, frantic. His breath is ragged, shaky, and his hands roam—your back, your sides, the dip of your waist—like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, burn the shape of you into his palms.
“Say it again,” he hears himself crack as he speaks, and he hates how wrecked his voice sounds, how utterly pathetic he must seem right now. But he doesn’t care. He needs to hear it.
You hesitate, and that hesitation guts him. But then your fingers tighten in his hair, your lips brush against his cheek, over the scar he thought you couldn’t bear to look at.
You do something he never, not in a million years, could even allow himself to imagine. You kiss his scar.
And right now he doesn’t even think he can see anymore.
“I love you.”
He lets out a shaky breath, forehead dropping to your shoulder. His heart is a fucking mess, erratic, wild. His grip on you tightens, like if he just holds on hard enough, he can keep you here forever.
Katsuki has never begged for anything in his life, but if you tried to leave now, he thinks he would. He knows he would. On his knees, sprawled all over the floor if he had to.
“Again” he exhales, sharply through his nose “I swear,” he breathes, voice rough and full of desperation “I’ll die if you don’t”
Your breath catches, and he feels it, the way you go still in his arms.
“Don’t say that,” you whisper, voice barely audible.
He presses his lips to your temple, your cheek, your jaw. It’s feverish, aching, his heart is going to give up, caught between his greediness and insecurity. “I don’t wanna live in a world where you don’t love me back, so just say it”
It’s pathetic. Weak. Not the kind of thing he would ever say out loud.
“I love you I love you I love you”
The moment the words leave your lips, the second you tell him you love him again, something in him absolutely breaks. He grabs your face with both hands, fingers digging into your cheeks, thumbs tracing over the curves of your jaw like he’s holding something fragile. Something irreplaceable.
Then he ruins you.
His lips crash into yours again, rough, needy, swallowing every breath, every little sound you make. But it isn’t enough. It’s never going to be enough.
He kisses your lips, your cheek, the corner of your mouth, your jaw. He presses frantic, open-mouthed kisses down your face like he’s starving—like he’s been denied of you for too long and now he’ll die if he doesn’t get to taste all of you.
“Love you,” he mutters between kisses, like the words are spilling out of him against his will. His lips drag over your nose, down your chin, along the curve of your cheekbone. “Love you, fuck—love you so much—”
He’s shaking. He can feel it in his hands, in the way his breath stutters against your skin. His lips find your temple, pressing there like a prayer, like if he kisses hard enough, you’ll understand—really understand—just how much he needs you.
He can’t stop.
He kisses the embers of the scar on your neck, then your forehead, then both of your eyelids like he’s blessing you. Then again, your cheekbones, your jaw, the corner of your mouth again—over and over, like he’s worshiping every single inch of you.
His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, tangling in your hair, holding you onto him for dear life.
When he pulls back, his pupils are blown wide, his breath ragged. “Tell me you’re mine,” he rasps, voice thick with something desperate, something wrecked. “We’re together after this, right? No more fucking sex on the low and then I don’t get to see you for god knows how long”
"Say you're stayin’," he mutters, voice raw. His fingers slip under the hem of his own shirt you’re wearing, pressing against your bare waist. His lips move to your ear, voice nothing more than a plea. "Tell me you’re not leavin’ me, baby."
Your heart clenches at the way his voice wavers, the way he sounds like he's afraid—like the very idea of you leaving is enough to unravel him completely.
“I’m staying,” you breathe, and before you can even finish saying it, his lips crash into yours again, cutting off whatever air was left in your lungs.
His eyes rake over you, wild and dark and fiery red and shaky, lips swollen and shiny from kissing you too hard. His hands are shaking as they run down your sides, like he’s never touched you before.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as if he’s finally letting himself believe it. His hands slide under your shirt, palms pressing flat against your stomach, up your ribs, his thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts. He swallows hard. “Mine.”
His kiss is messy, desperate, like he’s trying to fuse himself to you. Like he wants to crawl inside your skin and live there. And maybe he does. Maybe that’s the only way he’ll ever feel close enough to you.
“Katsuki” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and sweet.
“Fuck,” he rasps against your skin, voice wrecked, breath hot. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”
Your head is spinning, body burning beneath his touch, every nerve alight. “Then take it,” you whisper, nails digging into his shoulders.
His breath stutters and he hisses.
A growl rumbles in his chest as he flips you, pressing you into the mattress before climbing over you, caging you in with his body. His hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, sliding up your waist, pinning you in place like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
He dips down, biting at your collarbone, at the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, dragging his teeth over your pulse before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. A reminder. A claim. One he wasn’t allowed to make until seconds earlier.
You’re his to have.
You gasp, arching into him, and he groans at the way you react, at the way you’re coming undone beneath him.
“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters against your skin, lips trailing lower. “All mine.”
His words send a sharp, electric jolt through you, heat pooling low in your stomach.
Your hands roam his body in return, tracing the hard lines of his muscles, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch. When your fingers ghost over the scar on his chest, he stiffens for just a moment—then exhales shakily, like he’s letting you in.
He wants you to touch it. To feel that he’s here. That he’s alive. This is a reminder too.
You press your palm flat against it, right over his heart, and his breath shudders. His gaze snaps up to yours, pupils blown, expression dark and desperate.
Katsuki is fire—hot and consuming, searing through every inch of you, making it impossible to think of anything but him. And he’s explosion too, nuclear and annihilating, swiping away every ember of fear you could feel at this moment.
And right now, you’re ready to burn and get blown into teeny tiny pieces.
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.
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It’s Kind Of Diabolical
UA was a dream school that people all around the world tried to get into. Not only was it ranked number one in all of Japan, but the school was undefeated in all categories. Whatever category an individual could think of Dean Nezu did everything in his power to make the school the best in said category.
The 3% acceptance rate showed how picky the admissions team was.
Izuku Midoriya was considered one of the smartest students in the school. There were only two people that ranked higher than him in the entire building across all majors. Izuku was in a medical and pharmaceutical concentration of Biology and Chemistry. The double major was hell on earth, but he topped that off with a physics and psychology minor.
No one in the school, including the teachers, understood how he managed his time juggling countless classes all at once. Still, Izuku loved to learn, and he put his full effort into completing every class to near perfection. He worked very closely with his advisors Toshinori Yagi and Aizawa Shota. They complimented each other and it helped Izuku a lot with moving forward and making decisions based on their advice.
Everyone was always talking about Izuku and every move he made. Still, Izuku had something that he kept to himself. Izuku was a professional athlete.
The only reason no one knew was because he didn’t play for the college, making it significantly easier for him to keep it a secret. Well, to a degree he could hide it. He competed in high level competitions, and many were non-profit to raise awareness for important causes. His high ranking often led him to speaking in interviews about the cause.
Izuku was an angel on earth.
Katsuki Bakugo was average in school. He was naturally smart and put as little effort into his schoolwork as possible. Katsuki was a business major with two minors. One was in marketing and another in accounting. As long as he got an A in the class, he didn’t try to push himself harder. His main focus was on sports. After all, he was the captain of the football team and spent most of his free time training.
The school's meal plan was heavily abused by Katsuki as he was often seen inhaling food with his friends whenever he wasn’t in the gym or on the field. The training and consistent meal plan helped him greatly. Katsuki was well built with muscles that made half of the campus jealous and the other half lovesick.
Despite all the attention Katsuki got, he remained single. He appreciated his fans to a degree, but never engaged with them. He enjoyed the chase and the rush he got from the attention. Still, he loved playing football, and he loved his teammates. He’d never let a relationship, or other outside influences distract him.
That was until his best friend, also the vice-captain of the football team, decided it was time to flip his life upside down.
“Who’s that talking to Coach Toshinori?” asked Kaminari excitedly upon seeing a cute boy appear on the fields.
Katsuki didn’t bother looking, not interested in hearing gossip about some stranger. Kirishima on the other hand perked up when he noticed who Kaminari was talking about. “That’s Midoriya! He’s insane.”
Kirishima’s statement caught the attention of Katsuki and the rest of the team. Sero recognized Izuku as well and commented, “Yeah, isn’t he doing a double major and double minor?”
“That’s him! Mina told me that he’s already been accepted by every high end medical school he’s applied to,” revealed Kirishima, happy to say his girlfriend's name every chance he got.
Kaminari stared at Izuku from afar, letting his mouth catch flies. Once he let a couple of moments pass by, he snapped back into focus and smirked. “So, he’s smart and successful. Wait, how does Mina know him?”
“Mutual friends, apparently Midoriya is super popular. Almost everyone knows him, so I’m surprised you don’t,” responded Kirishima slowly, letting his gaze return to Izuku.
Toshinori flashed a wide smile at Izuku, ruffling the fluffy locks of green hair. The excited voices of the duo faintly reached the group's ears. Tetsutetsu chuckled to himself before jerking a thumb over to where they were standing. “Looks like he just got accepted to another school.”
Katsuki’s gaze was fierce, but he couldn’t stop the foreign rushing of his heart. There was something about this smartass chatting with his coach that irritated Katsuki. No matter how much he wanted to roll his eyes and redirect the conversation, he knew Izuku would be on his mind.
Fate had funny ways of bringing destined lovers together.
Three weeks was all it took for Katsuki cave into obsession. He hadn’t realized just how big of a figure Izuku had been in the school. After that fateful day, it seemed that anytime he’d be in the food hall or was hanging out with his friends, he’d hear chatter about the mysterious genius.
All alone in his room with thirty minutes until his bedtime, Katsuki started digging. He found some online interviews with Izuku talking about the charities he’s worked with. Then Katsuki found his social media account that talked about plans for his future, study tips, and a plethora of random school-related things.
It only took a minute of scrolling for Katsuki to realize this wasn’t Izuku’s personal account. No matter how much he dug, he couldn’t find any pictures of Izuku at these apparent parties or hangouts with his friends that Mina claimed he had.
The following morning came around and like clockwork, Izuku would become a part of his life.
The football team huddled around Coach Toshinori when he clapped his hands together with his usual blinding smile. “Look alive! As you all know, the season is starting to pick up and now more than ever, we need to engage with the public. We are the best school in all of Japan and we need to maintain that status. So, I want you to take to social media and hold mini interviews with people in busy areas!”
Katsuki shrugged, not bothered by the assignment. It wasn’t like he had any intention of being the one doing the interviewing. If he partnered with Kirishima who was more of a people person, then he could just record the interviews.
“Let’s do this Bakugo!” cheered Kirishima loudly, letting his manly persona take over.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on his phone. “Shut up Shitty Hair! Do you want to scare away everyone with your screaming?”
Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Kirishima turned back to where people were moving in and out of shops. “Oops, you’re right. Sorry man.”
Huffing, Katsuki prepared his phone to record as Kirishima asked individuals if they’d be willing to be interviewed. Most of the time it took one look at Kirishima and Bakugo for people to say yes. It may have been the duo’s good looks, or their UA letter jackets, but people were fast to do an interview.
They had already held short interviews with ten people by the time their interest had fully worn off. Kirishima groaned, crashing on a nearby bench. “Why does Coach want us to interview fifteen people? We are going to have way too much footage,” noted Kirishima as he watched people pass by.
“Stop complaining, we are almost finished,” grumbled Katsuki, scrolling through the countless videos on his phone.
“Easy for you to say! You haven’t talked to one person,” scoffed Kirishima, failing at guilt tripping Katsuki.
Raising a brow with an unimpressed expression, Katsuki shrugged it off. “Not my problem.”
Kirishima spotted a familiar face in the crowd and his face lit up like a little kid on their birthday. “No way! Is that Midoriya? What are the odds we see him here?”
Katsuki was already handing his phone to Kirishima, not bothering to look back or wait for his friend. “Record me.”
The eagerness Katsuki displayed to interview Izuku let Kirishima know everything. Katsuki had a fat crush on Izuku. He’d never pass up a moment to record Katsuki making a fool of himself. Moments like these were rare and Kirishima usually failed to capture the moment in a picture or video.
Once the redhead caught up to where Katsuki had greeted Izuku, he caught the end of their exchange of pleasantries.
Izuku flashed a soft smile at Katsuki. “It’s nice to meet you in person! Toshinori tells me a lot about you.”
Kirishima was already recording with a bright smile. “Hi Midoriya!”
Turning his head to look at Kirishima, Izuku’s eyes lit up when he realized it was Kirishima. “Oh! Kirishima, hi! It’s been so long since we’ve last talked!”
“It really has been! I’ve been so busy with balancing school and football I haven’t been going to the parties lately,” sighed Kirishima defeatedly. He knew Izuku wasn't one to be petty but still, he felt bad about not keeping in touch with someone he enjoyed talking to.
“Nonsense! Anyway, Bakugo, you mentioned something about interviewing me?” inquired Izuku, returning to the initial reason he was approached by the hottest guy on campus.
Katsuki took a step closer to Izuku after letting his eyes trail all over Izuku’s body when the pretty boy had been distracted. Clearing his throat, trying to fight the nerves that flooded his body when he caught sight of muscular legs, Katsuki nodded.
“Yes, the football team is doing interviews with the public so we can post stupid shit to remind everyone why UA is the best.”
Perking up at the explanation of what was happening, Izuku eagerly agreed,” Of course. I’m more than happy to support UA and our football team!”
The three traveled to a more open area of the shopping center. The sun was warm on their skin and there was a gentle breeze. As Izuku and Katsuki waited for Kirishima to give them the go ahead to start the interview, Kirishima swore the scene looked like something out of a romcom movie. The school jock and nerd running into each other and having their worlds collide on a beautiful day with a cinematic breeze twirling their hair around.
Izuku was wearing a white tee shirt with the words “running shirt” on it. He paired the simple tee shirt with some black gym shorts that had white accents on the side seam. Both of his knees were strapped up with yellow kinesiology knee tape, paired with royal blue compression socks. The final addition to the horrifically discolored outfit was a pair of expensive red running sneakers.
Katsuki was in some baggy black pants, expensive white sneakers, and wore his UA football letter jacket.
Their outfits dramatically contrasted each other, but it wasn’t an eyesore like Kirishima thought it would be. Despite all of that, Kirishima cut the two’s ogling short. “Start anytime!”
Without missing a beat, Katsuki went off-script and asked a personal question. “What happened to your leg?”
Both Kirishima and Izuku seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but they quickly recovered. Kirishima knew he was going to use this as blackmail on Katsuki for the foreseeable future. Izuku on the other hand didn’t know what to expect from the interview and was happy to talk to the notorious football captain.
“I do a lot of running. A lot of cardio,” revealed Izuku, smiling shyly at Katsuki as he fiddled with the earbuds he had taken out.
Since he was a person with no filter, Katsuki dove straight into sly flirting. “Were you on your knees by any chance?”
“I actually was,” answered Izuku quickly, a bit surprised Katsuki asked the question. Still, he wasn’t too surprised Katsuki knew what to ask considering he was an athlete too.
Katsuki didn’t falter despite Izuku clearly not understanding what he meant with that question. “Oh. I picked the right guy for the interview,” commented Katsuki charmingly, his eyes looking at Izuku as if he were a meal to devour.
With the single comment, Izuku picked up on what Katsuki was indirectly saying and let his eyes widen and let out a breathless laugh. Katsuki knew he wanted to see that look and hear that laugh every day for the rest of his life. He wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but truly Izuku had him captivated. Izuku felt the exact same way.
He got me, hook, line, and sinker.
“How is your day going?” asked Katsuki calmly, reeling back into interviewing Izuku despite him not asking about UA or things about football.
Izuku pouted, looking at the hustle and bustle of the people around. “Pretty slow”
Seeing an opening to be mischievous again, Katsuki leaned closer. “Do you want me to make it faster?”
Perking up at the suggestive question, Izuku was ready to show he was just as interested. Using all the confidence training his teachers have put him through, Izuku tempted, “How would you do that?”
“How do you want me to do that?” fired back Katsuki with pure enjoyment. There was a little voice in the back of his head, wondering if the man before him was being a little shit to mess with him or if he was truly interested.
While Katsuki was overthinking everything, Izuku tilted his head down, looking up at Katsuki through his eyelashes with a shy smile. It was a very pointed look, and Katsuki felt his heart swoon. Katsuki was ready to bite those chubby cheeks peppered with the most beautiful freckles. Still, he was a college student and imagined pinning Izuku against his locker in the vacant locker room, and making those perfect lips spread to let out a scream of pleasure.
“I’m going to have to cut this video short,” half-joked Katsuki, struggling to keep his mind focused on anything but asking Izuku to date him in less than polite words.
The loud, almost manic laughter erupted from Izuku again as the implications of Katsuki’s words sank in. He was infatuated with Katsuki. There was something so thrilling about being the one that caught the attention of the untouchable football captain. In the back of his mind, he was scared this was all some elaborate prank to humiliate him, but he had to trust that Toshinori wasn’t lying about Katsuki being a good person.
It wasn’t uncommon to hear all his friends talking about Katsuki. It was close to impossible not to hear the name when football was such a major sport. Katsuki was the captain and the team's best player. Besides, Izuku often visits the games.
The only problem was he never got a good look at the blonde when their classes had no overlap and Katsuki was nothing more than a small blob down on the field.
Katsuki recalled Kirishima and Izuku’s short exchange. Kirishima mentioned something about not going to as many parties due to his busy schedule. If Kirishima equated not going to parties to a complete loss of communication, he wondered just how often Izuku attended them. “Do you ever go out to parties?”
“Maybe sometimes,” admitted Izuku slowly, raising a brow to gauge just what Katsuki’s aim was. While Izuku enjoyed some dirty talk, he had no intention of being a sex toy. He had standards and he hoped that Katsuki wasn’t just a closeted player.
“Do you ever see frat boys?” questioned Katsuki quickly, feeling anxiety bubble in his gut. He didn’t want Izuku to have his eyes on loser extras. Katsuki knew that some of the frat boys were persistent and relentless when it came to sexual endeavors. Jealousy was an ugly feeling, and Katsuki didn’t like being in a competition where he could easily lose.
Izuku stilled, a bit offended Katsuki was asking about his potential romantic interests in frat boys. How could Katsuki think he had no standards? Sure, Izuku was popular and flirty when it counted, but he didn’t think he gave off the impression he’d settle for a frat boy.
Truth be told, Izuku had a fear of drinking and drugs. He was a control freak after all.
In the end he’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice some of the frat boys at the parties he attended. No matter how many people tried to hide the parties from the frat boys, they managed to find and get into the private parties. “I do see some frat boys. I don’t go for frat boys though.”
Katsuki immediately relaxed and soon realized he had been making a lot of assumptions. Sure, he was gay, but he couldn’t just assume anyone he was interested in was. Yet, he saw Izuku standing across the field on one fateful day and decided the nerd was his. Still, he didn’t have to worry about some horny men getting their hands on Izuku.
With his skin practically itching from anticipation, Katsuki knew he needed to get a better confirmation of Izuku’s sexuality. Their not-so-subtle flirting wasn’t enough. “So, what kind of guys do you go for?”
“Literally any other kind of guy,” chuckled Izuku, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. It was clear that Katsuki was interested in him no matter what the intentions behind that interest were. Who could blame him for being flattered that Katsuki was giving him attention in a world filled with gorgeous individuals who matched Katsuki’s interests better.
Even if he was a perfect mix of calculated and impulsive, Katsuki was quick to gather the courage and make it clear where he stood. “Like football players?”
The message was direct and Izuku’s face bloomed the most stunning shade of pink Katsuki had ever seen. The shade complimented his hair and made his freckles more apparent. Still, Izuku raised a hand to tuck a stray curl behind his ear. Ignoring the adrenaline pumping in his veins, he smiled confidently. “I’ve never gone for a football player before but…”
All composure was lost, and Katsuki’s buffer vanished. “Do you like dick?”
That was all it took for Izuku to burst out into laughter. Even if Katsuki only wanted him for his body, which meant a hard rejection to an only physical relationship, Izuku had no intention of living a life without Katsuki in it. The vulgarity in Katsuki’s speech and the lack of regret in everything he said was something Izuku quickly admired. “Uh yeah.”
Katsuki couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, unable to believe that with the dumpster fire their conversation was, Izuku was still laughing and engaged. If his last question wasn’t enough to drive Izuku away, he might as well try to ask, “Can I get your number?”
Not even a second passed when Izuku threw his head back in laughter once more, fully captivated by Katsuki. He enjoyed the directness after all the suggestive language. Waving a hand, Izuku took a deep breath before shrugging and nodding his head. “Yeah, I guess you can get my number.”
Suddenly Katsuki felt like an elementary schooler. He remembered watching all his friends ask girls out and being surprised when they accepted. Now he understood how they felt at that moment. It was a pure, unadulterated sense of belonging and acceptance.
Despite the train wreck he presented himself to be, Izuku wanted to stick around.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Izuku as he laughed, raising his hand, messing with his phone to pull up contacts, and offering it to Katsuki.
Kirishima stood behind the camera, wearing a disgusted expression. Izuku and Katsuki were made for each other. He couldn’t imagine any other person in the world still giving their number to Katsuki after being aggressively asked if they liked dick.
Whatever rose-tinted glasses Izuku was wearing, Kirishima wanted a pair too.
Katsuki calmly put in his digits and his name. He knew Izuku knew his name, but still, he liked the feeling of making himself known to Izuku. As soon as Katsuki went to hand Izuku his phone, a calendar notification pinged.
“Sorry, I really must go! I’ll text you, Katsuki. And Kirishima, it was a pleasure seeing you again.”
Kirishima and Katsuki both waved to Izuku and sadly said their goodbyes. They were impressed that Izuku was able to spare them a minute in the first place with how intense his schedule must be.
Izuku walked away with a pep in his step. Kirishima had been busy sending the video to himself when Katsuki’s voice reached his ears against his will.
“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave,” sighed Katsuki, clearly admiring Izuku’s ass-sets.
Kirishima cringed, staring at Katsuki as if he’d been betrayed. “Bro, I love you… but I’m going to need you to stop talking.”
Katsuki gave Kirishima a swift punch to the arm before snatching his phone back. “Never speak of this to anyone. Let’s grab lunch… fuck interviewing anyone else.”
More than happy to stop where they were, Kirishima started walking to the one restaurant nearby he knew they both enjoyed. Katsuki smiled at his phone when he almost immediately got a text from Izuku.
Katsuki wasn’t planning on letting Izuku go after having a taste.