I Saw A TikToks With Like An Pov Along The Lines Of Imagine Laying In Bed With Your So Smiling Weed And

I saw a TikToks with like an pov along the lines of imagine laying in bed with your so smiling weed and then they tell you that you're the only reason they will consider marriage 😍

Smoking weed with Katsuki laying on bed just talking about random things until you bring up marriage talking about how you never really ever wanted to get married but he's kinda changing your mind and then that exact moment is when he decides he's gonna propose to you.

i’m not one for marriage stuff but this sounds like me LOL

firm believer in bakugou doesn’t smoke until he meets you. like his first time trying a cigarette or a blunt was with you. gotten to the point where he doesn’t cough as much but he’s still so conscious of the fact he’s high when he is. like he’s trying so hard not to do anything stupid and instead of slowing down sometimes his mind goes a little faster.

you on the other hand are completely chill, kisses on his jaw and a hand under his tshirt for him to calm down. that usually leads to fucking.

not today though. it’s both of you laying on your double bed which is big for you and normal size for him. has you half laying on him, leg across his chest and cheek under his chin. an old adult cartoon episode playing low on the television as you both just sit in each others presence. you stub out the last of the blunt on your ashtray, letting the cold breeze from your window mix which the new found fumes in your room.

you’re both comfortable, almost moulded into each others bodies. his arm hugs you to him, pressing his lips into your forehead every so often.

then you begin to talk, on one of your slower talks, sharing every thought you have on your brain. for bakugou this is favourite thing about smoking with you. just hearing your thoughts without a filter.

“you know how i’ve never thought about marriage? always sorta put off by it?”

bakugou hums. he’s more of a traditional guy. he doesn’t know why or how but he enjoys those aspects of a relationship, looking after you, marriage, great proposals, romanticism all for you. you on the other hand, don’t mind it. though you’d be lying if you didn’t like the part where he pays for all your dates and gifts.

“i think my mind is changing. i see it differently now. i wouldn’t mind getting married, the whole event… being bound for life.”

your voice goes breathy with thought by the end and bakugou can feel his heartbeat in his throat, trying to understand what you mean. he’s so conscious of the way your body is soft on his harder one, how you’re hugging him like he’s practically a pillow and how your hair is tickling his chin.

“yeah? what’s changed your mind?”

he thinks he knows the answer. he hopes he’s right.

your finger traces something along his chest, down his arm. “you. i used to think i’d never give up my last name for a man but i would for you. i’d even make big financial decisions with you, i trust you so much.” you laugh, “that’s something.”

bakugou doesn’t know how to explain how he’s feeling. like there’s these slow fireworks bursting in his head, the understanding what you mean. you’d marry him. you’d want to marry him. that this isn’t a relationship that can fizzle out in a few more months and it actually can be forever. when all the mental fireworks fade out, he blubbers out the only words he can think.

“i will marry you.”

it’s so abrupt you look up at him, a playful grin already on your face.

“really? you’d take me away from my home to never see my family again and tend to you for the rest of my life?” you giggle and bakugou pinches your sides, becoming an attack of tickles.

he manages to nudge himself in-front of you so you’re laying side by side. you’re slightly out of breath from his fingertips drifting all over you whilst he doesn’t remember what it’s like to not smile.

“that wasn’t a fuckin’ proposal, it was a promise. i want it a-and if you do, i’ll give you everythin’,” he licks his bottom lip like he’s about to seduce you, “gonna make good financial decisions together. maybe a house. mortgage.”

the smiles on your faces rise in slow motion, your arm on his shoulder bending to play with his locks. your chest is pressed to his, your leg automatically coming to lock around his hips. his eyes are hazy and low and you’re sure yours are too.

“that sounds good to me, katsuki,” his name is silky on your lips, that he can’t help but brush his against yours.

“sounds like a dream to me,” he grumbles, voice low and hoarse from everything that means to him.

when you peck his lips, that’s a go go go sign in his head to grab your jaw and make out with you so you feel his next words physically.

“i love you more than life itself.”

you’re delectable, managing to be shy after talking about marriage with his hand sneaking onto your ass.

“i love you too. more than you’ll ever know.”

aki: college is where mental problems are sometimes activated

denji: i hope i get multiple personalities disorders. i get lonely in long showers

my type?

4.3 K words

summary - Yuuji Itadori is a total knockout boyfriend - the only hitch? You’re nothing like his usual type of woman, and it’s making you unsure.

warnings - 18+!, femreader with jugs and vagene, p in v sex, unrealistic car sex, specifically stated that reader is non-tall with big tits, dumbification for both parties, squirting, non-curse AU where sukuna and yuuji are brother-roommates, unprotected sex

Itadori, Yuuji was an amazing boyfriend - something straight out of a top-selling shoujo manga.

Faithful and doting and affectionate. He handed over his hoodies the moment you mentioned an unpleasant breeze, he proudly held your hand in public, and he boasted about the very act of dating you to anyone with ears. But even those displays felt backhanded, the deeper you dug into your own mind. You had no real reason to complain about the situation.

And you especially had no reason when the cause behind your complaints would be so shallow.

You had an ass in the same way that everybody else did, but nothing comparable to the pin-up poster Yuuji tore down when you two started dating. Or his celebrity fascination, Jennifer Lawrence (which also mysteriously stopped being mentioned when you two started dating).

Rather, your body was much more endowed in ways that made Nobara tease as you passed lingerie stores with hot pink lighting and black walls and heavy busts plastered in the windows. She’d snag you by the sleeve and point, just to watch how you scoff and look away.

Yuuji pointedly ignores those stores. He ignores everything in relation to them.

You’d picked this shirt just for tonight. It dips low into your cleavage, just tight enough to still push up the tender meat of your breasts. Not to mention the color - deep crimson, Yuuji’s favorite. Well, at least the closest you’ll ever get to a favorite color with his indecisive nature.

Yuuji sits across from you at the scratched table. When his eyes aren’t scavenging the conveyor belt for small, shiny, colored plates serving anything that may catch his eye, they’re on your face. And only your face.

Normally something you’d absolutely cheer over - if this were a first date, but the fact is that this is one of many dates. And after so many dates that you can’t count anymore, you’re starting to want Yuuji’s eyes to drift.

You want him to look and you want to watch him sweat and go red. You’re starting to need it.

The need only grows more apparent mere days later.

Yuuji keeps his hands stubbornly on your hips, barely making an imprint from outside your clothes. But you choose not to make a fuss since he’s otherwise fully engrossed with keeping his lips pasted to yours. Your hands are sweaty and hot on Yuuji’s cheeks, you just know they are, but he doesn’t seem to mind when he lets you hold him close and grind on him.

Yet his palms are stiff against you. They don’t feel warm or cold or clammy or moist. They just… are. He chokes back every groan and huff and you almost feel embarrassed to be letting out hitches and breathy moans so freely in comparison.

Puffing your chest out, you can feel your breasts pillowing against Yuuji and you’re hoping to tempt him to move his hands up. Under your shirt and bra with bare skin on bare skin. The idea makes you mewl, dragging your hips harder against his and further pushing out your tits for him to grope.

And suddenly, his stiff hands are picking you up off his lap, sliding you beside him on your couch. Yuuji grins, standing and swiping his hands down the legs of his sweatpants before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry, gotta pee.”

“Oversharing!” you call after his retreating form.

When Yuuji returns, he sits down and rewinds the movie you two had put on earlier. He frowns and murmurs about how much the both of you missed. When you don’t turn back to the TV immediately, Yuuji smiles again and kisses your cheek.

Your gut twists unpleasantly.

And that need festers into utter desperation by just the next afternoon.

“Hey, Yuuji,” you come up from behind your boyfriend, arms dangling over the back of his couch and framing his shoulders. You place your chin on his head, staring at the intense cooking competition he’s watching, “So, I know I just got here… but! I’ve got a small, teensy errand to run.”

“Mhm?” he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, “Want me to go with you?”

His offer has you nodding, trying to smother down the bright simper he threatens to drag out of you, “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”

Sucking in air noisily through his teeth, Yuuji gestures out to the show he lazes in front of, “I dunno, babe, I am watching TV.”

“Very funny,” you back away from his couch, already heading to the door to tug your shoes on, “Just saying, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” Yuuji always wants to come with, you like that about him, “Just getting some new bras.”

Your current ones are fine, but maybe a stuffy changing room is that nudge he needs.

“Oh,” your boyfriend pauses, eyes widening, “Uh. You might want to take Kugisaki for that, she’d know more than me,” he can’t even look at you, “I’m not really the kinda person you’d want around for that.”

You almost ask what he means by that, but the rejection has fried your brain to a gray, crunchy crisp. The kind of fry that looks like it could flake apart with a harsh jab. Again, that terrible, awful knotting in your stomach returns, but you carry on. Because if you claimed to no longer need this errand ran, then he might know what your scheme was - and that was far worse than whatever this hell was.

So you nod slowly and meekly call out that you love him before exiting the door. He says he loves you more.

You really wish you asked what he meant.

Finally, desperation comes to a head when you meet Yuuji’s friend - Todo, Aoi.

Todo, Aoi, who stares at you - eyes narrow as he judges each wrinkle in your clothes and jitter of your muscles - then turns to Yuuji, and asks point-blank, “Did you lie about your type, then, brother?”

Yuuji rips the hand in his pocket out and cuts it across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing a couple of rude ‘shut up’s. You lean into Yuuji’s side, squeezing the hand he lays in yours tighter. It isn’t sweaty. And it isn’t very warm, either.

Aoi doesn’t seem very upset at the idea, “I’m happy you’re happy,” you look down at your shoes when he glances back over at you, “I was excited when I thought we had the same type.”

No, you weren’t very tall. And no, your butt wasn’t exceptionally big. You fell on the more mediocre sides of those categories, the thing you excelled in (what you thought most guys were thrilled over) was having a large bust.

“Dude!” Yuuji hits Aoi in the shoulder. Hard, “Shut up!”

He squeezes your hand so tight you think it might bruise.

“Sorry, brother,” Aoi, you were warned, was extremely unusual - little to no boundaries and almost inept at social interactions outside of fighting. He does seem sympathetic enough, turning to you, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

It’s all so sickening. How you wish Yuuji would hurry up and show interest in shallow things. How you place personal esteem on this whole fiasco. How right Aoi is. How badly you’re letting everything affect you.

The ringing in your ears, for example. The way you no longer think you can stomach whatever Aoi was cooking tonight. The shortness of your breath.

You try to push it down. Tonight is supposed to be fun.

Yuuji shoves his friend, much more lightheartedly than his previous blow, and goes to kiss your forehead - but hesitates. His smile is uneven, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he squeezes your hand, “I love you,” then, apologetically, he smooths his thumb over the sore spots where he clenched your hand, “I love you so much.”

And you know that. You know it like you know your favorite movie.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

He loves you, you know that - what you don’t know, is if he wants you. Doesn’t he get sweaty palms like you? Doesn’t he feel his intestines tie into bunches of little knots like you? Doesn’t he get all hot in the face like you? Doesn’t he want you like you want him?

It’s humiliating to imagine that he doesn’t, and the mere idea makes you so nauseous you think you might hurl at this very moment.

Maybe your boyfriend just doesn’t find you as attractive as you want him to.

Maybe you should give up this repetitive scheme.

The car is quiet, unbearably so. Your knees are angled away from Yuuji defiantly, legs pushed to the far side of your seat so it’d be a hassle for him to reach out and hold your thigh. You used to think it meant something when he did that, but now it seems as though he’s doing it out of duty. Like holding the door for someone behind you. Or offering your seat on the bus to elderly passengers. Simple acts of simple kindness.

The most basic peacekeeping, if anything.

Yuuji peeks at you without turning away from the road, hands tightening around the steering wheel, “Are you upset?”

You could be snippy. You could even opt to not respond.

But you do neither, “Yeah.”

He sighs through his nose, “Seriously, don’t listen to Todo. He doesn’t know anything.”

Now, you’re a little snippy. To point out that Aoi’s being stupid isn’t uncalled for, but to claim he doesn’t know exactly what stupid shit he’s saying is.

“He has a point.”

“Huh?” Yuuji turns his head fully to look at you, something he only does because the quiet backroad home is empty, “What’re you talking about?”

Only flickering, crooked, rusty street lamps are witness to your impending breakdown. Your boyfriend returns his stare to the road. Crickets sing outside and the wind flattens over long grass that shines under moonlight.

“Yuuji,” sinking into your seat, you ignore his eyes, “You can’t seriously say you have no idea,” he’s quiet, lips pressed thinly, “Since we met, practically everybody has known your type. I knew you had a type! It was a shock to our friends when we got together! And now that we are…”

Pulling off into the grassy plain lining your way home, Yuuji slips the key from the ignition and unclicks his seatbelt to really examine you. His eyes scramble over you, every part the sensitive, concerned boyfriend you know and treasure. He pouts, but it’s in earnest; hurt simply because you’re hurt.

“And now that we are?”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“I look at you!” he rubs the back of his neck, now quirking a brow at you, “I look at you all the time.”

“No,” you whine like a petulant child, hands coming up to cover your face, “It’s different!”

Aoi’s words just won’t stop creeping up your spine. Yuuji setting you aside on the couch. Yuuji insisting that you bring Nobara to a lingerie store instead of him. He was lying to someone, right? Was it to Aoi or you?

But everybody had seen that poster, and everybody could hear him declare his preferences.

“It’s way different,” you’re so humiliated you’re nauseous, your voice wobbles.

Yuuji tenderly takes your wrists, dragging down your hands. His smile is squiggly, brows high to his forehead, “Talk to me, pretty girl. You want me to look at you?” you nod, “So tell me what you mean by that.”

You almost hate how soft his voice is. It makes it so hard to be upset.

“I’m not your type,” your eyes trail the way Yuuji’s fingers dance around yours, “And every time I try to… you know, get you to think of me as something other than just cute or pretty - you turn me down. I feel like you don’t find me attractive.”

“Oh, like sexually?”

“Mhmm,” you nod glumly. When he’s quiet for just a couple of seconds too long, you ask, “Did you know what I was trying to do?”

“Kind of,” Yuuji’s cheeks are growing red, eyes now abandoning your entwined hands to stare out the windshield, “I do find you attractive - that’s a little bit of the problem.”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath sharply, engulfing your hands completely with his and squeezing (much more mindfully this time), “I’m crazy about you,” he can tell you don’t believe him, “It scares me a little,” he pulls his hands away and cradles his own over his lap, “I’m worried that if I give in, I’ll scare you off… like I’m too eager or something.”

“Yuuji!” you adjust in your seat, moving sideways and finally letting your knees face your boyfriend again, “You wouldn’t scare me off by being eager about my body! That’s a good thing, right? When we’re both into each other, that’s good!”

“No, I mean,” he’s gone rouge all the way up to his ears now, a fire bright in his chest, “I want you so bad it makes me feel like all my skin’s burning. My hands get all gross and sweaty so I have to wipe them on my pants, and- and I can’t think straight,” he’s still not looking at you, but the way he’s pressing his arms down on his crotch tells you he wants to, “Even now, I think I’m going crazy just imagining you…”

You sit up on your knees, leaning over the center console just to watch your boy squirm at the invasion of space, “Imagining me?” he nods shakily, “Imagining me how?”

He whines, turning his head and pressing his scorching face into your neck, “You know how.”

“Come on, pretty boy,” you kneel over the console entirely, squeezing behind the wheel to settle on Yuuji’s lap - slapping away his hands from the growing tent in his baggy pants, “Entertain me, please?”

“Imagining you under me, on me, between my legs,” his hands fly to your hips, palms slipping up under your shirt, and, God, his palms are sweaty, “Any way you’ll have me,” you cup his cheeks and press messy kisses to his lips. Yuuji’s hands roam further up your shirt, fingertips teasing under the cups of your bra, “Any way I can see your tits.”

“I thought you were more into ass,” your bravado falls under his admission, suddenly bashful.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing hard while pushing his hands under your bra, he can feel his heartbeat all the way at the back of his throat. His rough palms cupping the soft, fleshy fat on your chest, “As if that matters,” his brows knit, hips subconsciously jerking up into yours, “I’m a horny guy: my hot girlfriend has big boobs, and I’m obsessed with her big boobs.”

“Just ‘cuz you’re horny?” you tease, grinding down on the bump of his hard cock. His loose pants let him spring up under your skirt, knocking into your panty-clad cunt.

“Nah,” his eyes flutter open, sweaty palms moving around your back and clumsily unhooking your troublesome bra. It takes him three tries, “I like every part of you all the time…” the tip of his tongue parts his lips in hard concentration, “Your whole body makes me feel like I’m full of bugs.”

“‘Full of bugs?!’” you snort, lifting your arms so Yuuji can yank off your shirt and bra in one ungraceful motion.

“In a good way,” he promises, eyes locked on your heaving chest. You can hear the thick breaths he struggles through, “‘m so nervous and horny at the same time, it feels like bugs in my stomach.”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“‘Cuz I wanna make you cum, but I’m worried I’ll cream my pants before we even get to it,” he finally looks into your eyes, he smiles at you with flaming cheeks and palms at your breasts, “It was so hard making sure I kept it together… Been jerkin’ off every night thinking of you - ask Sukuna, he’ll tell you. It’s been embarrassing.”

“Augh, Yuuji!”

“It’s true!”

It makes your palms hot and sweaty, the image of him so desperate. All for you.

“Hm,” you croon, grinding against your boyfriend’s cock, back arching to press your tits closer to his face, “Yuuji...”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Yuuji sucks one of your nipples between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He bucks up against your wetting panties. Pulling away from your nipple with a soft pop, Yuuji stares up at you with another earnest, flustered pout, “Can you take it out for me?”

As if you could forget what he’s talking about, he humps you again.

“Please, take it out,” he cranes his neck to run his warm, wet tongue over your other, unattended nipple.

“Aw,” you didn’t think seeing your big, energetic boyfriend act so pathetic would set you on fire the way it does. One of your hands stretches down between you and Yuuji, wrangling down his pants with him lifting his hips to help, “Do you want me to play with your cock?”

He hums against your breast, nodding eagerly, “Yuh- yeah- ! Please?”

Your fingers wrap around the warm softness of Yuuji’s erection, thumb playfully nudging his mushroom tip’s slit. He throws his head back, ricocheting against the car seat headrest with a throaty groan.

Giggling, you lean in to kiss the sensitive spot just under Yuuji’s jaw, hand still working up Yuuji’s weeping cock, “Having a good time, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” he unwinds his arms around you to grasp your hips once again, fingers bruising at your sides, “Feels so good - so, so good…”

“Who’s making you feel good, Yuuji?”

“You!” his right thigh twitches under you, “You, you - ‘s always you!”

“Always me?”

His chuckle breaks off into a slack-jawed moan, “Said I jerk off to you every night, didn’t I?” he reaches for your wrist, “Wait, wait!”

“Were you…?” so soon?

“I told you!” now he’s the one whining like a petulant brat, “I don’t wanna cum before you, but you just make it so hard.”

So soon.

Your thighs squish around Yuuji’s, hips grinding on nothing - desperate in search of friction.

“You like that?” he sounds breathless, staring at you as you watch his bobbing cock. All red at the head and straining against your hand, “You’re so mean, babe.”

“I like it a lot,” you sit up, lips finding Yuuji’s drool-slicked ones, “I like knowing I have that effect on you.”

“Since I first saw you, I think,” he admits, hands skimming under your skirt now, “Can I… ?”

You nod, holding tightly to Yuuji’s shoulders while you lean on one leg. You could, theoretically, drag your panties down your lifted leg by yourself - but Yuuji stubbornly joins your hand all the way down to your ankle.

Before trying to slip inside you, Yuuji cups your hot sex. His chest tightens, middle finger shakily tracing along your soaked cunt. Tongue lolling back out of his mouth, Yuuji tucks your nipple back into his mouth when he inserts his finger in your hole. Trying to keep his mind as busy as possible so he can stop thinking about how badly he needs to bury himself inside you.

“Yuuji,” your breathing is ragged, already lowering yourself before he even pulls his finger out of you, “I’m so past ready.”

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles against the swell of your tit, teasing his teeth against the full flesh, “I dunno if I’ll be able to get in…” he chuckles to himself, lightheaded when he taps the head of his cock against your clit, “Might slip right out, huh?”

“Stop teasing,” you cradle Yuuji’s head to your chest, arms thrown around his neck, “You’re the mean one.”

“I know, I know,” he lowers in his seat, pressing himself finally, finally, finally inside your pussy. Your tits press even closer to his face when you gasp at the stretch, “I’ve been ignoring my poor pretty girl this whole time,” he says it so mournfully, so heartfelt, “So selfish, just thinking of my pride - I didn’t even wonder how my girl felt.”

“Ahh, Yuuji,” you moan, piercing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he pushes down on your hips, lowering you on his stiff cock until your thighs are flush with his soft pants. They’re a little wet. You don’t care much, and you don’t think Yuuji does either right now. He screws up into you, one arm tight around your waist to pull you down into his thrusts and the other hand finding your slippery clit, “I’m so sorry, angel, can you forgive me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” his fingers work quick circles on your nerves as he fucks you and you’re barely able to scramble together the words (let alone carry those words out in a sensible form), “Yes - ah! - yes, Yuuji!”

There’s something in the way he twists his hips this time because his cock beats into a particular spot that sends white sparks through your veins. You snap back, head hanging and forcing your bouncing tits directly in Yuuji’s face. Before you can even begin to beg, your big, energetic (and maybe a little pathetic) boyfriend is already nodding to himself.

“Right there, angel?” his fingers leave your clit to press down on where his cock batters your insides, “Is that it? Want me right here?”

“Please!” you squeal, thighs quivering and lungs fresh out of air.

“Uh-huh,” he keeps nodding, head too empty to realize he doesn’t need to anymore, “Uh-huh, anything for you… fuckin’ anything…”

When your lower half burns out, Yuuji keeps you upright - fully fucking up into you at that same spot he pushes down on your tummy. The need to cum burns every nerve in your body - it burns and burns and burns until it changes.

Something fuller and more familiar - in a more daily-life kind of way.

“Ah, Yuuji,” your hands perch on his shoulders, body bouncing with the weight of Yuuji’s hips slinging into yours, “I think- ! It feels like- !”

“Talk to me, angel,” dumbly, he looks up at you, almost snickering, “‘Entertain me.’”

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you try warning him, you really do.

But something behind his eyes just shines brighter, grin widening and he actually laughs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” he stares, wide-eyed, at where you’re creaming on his cock, “You gonna squirt on me, baby?” his foolish nodding quickens with his hips, “Squirt all over me, angel, I want it - want it so bad. Soak my car, oh,” his pretty mouth circles into an ‘O’ just at the thought, “Please, please soak my fucking car!”

Your head jerks back, nails digging into Yuuji’s shoulders, throat snapping raw as you cry out braindead mixtures of your boyfriend’s name and pleas for more and harder and his cum.

He moves the hand on your tummy to swish your clit and spread your mess as far as he can, mouth popping open almost instinctively just to catch stray droplets of your cum in his mouth. One day (tomorrow) he might regret (will definitely regret) intentionally making you spray cum all over his front, and even back, seats, but right now he couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, moans choked back in his throat, “‘m gonna cum - where?” before he can ask again, you find the strength to swivel your hips down on him, “Inside?”

“Inside!” you sob, chest tight and eyes watering at the overstimulation of Yuuji still swirling a thumb on your clit, “Cum inside, Yuuji!”

“Fu- ck,” he squeezes the word out of his chest, seating you fully on his lap when his cock throbs. He juts his chin out towards you when he starts cumming, “Kiss me?”

And you waste no time throwing yourself forward to press chaste, sweet kisses on Yuuji’s drooling lips. He hums and whimpers into your mouth, greedily drinking in the taste of your lips on his. As if he’d been starved of it his entire life.

Yuuji keeps you against him, the both of you slowly coming back down to Earth.

His sopping pants are beginning to cool underneath you.

“Ugh,” you groan at the feeling, “I think we made a mistake.”

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs, “Oh well. Can’t unfuck in the car now.”

You’re kind of dreading pulling off Yuuji’s soft cock - if you hadn’t done enough to ruin Yuuji’s pants before, then that most certainly will.

Yuuji sighs again, heartier, hands coddling your hips and tenderly rubbing circles into your bone. His eyes fall to your breasts and remain there, “I really am sorry, angel. I- I never, ever wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you.”

Because he does. Good, God, he always does.

Every time he sees you, his hands get all sweaty and his cheeks are hot and his stomach twists into jumbles of knots.

“It hurt,” you admit, “but it’s fine now,” you giggle at the idea of him apologizing over trying to be respectful, “It isn’t like you were being a dick, you know?”

“Yeah, but! Ugh!” he clenches a hand over his heart dramatically, frowning, “I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings. My sweet girl :( “

“You’re cute,” you kiss one of Yuuji’s fiery cheeks, “Okay, help me off.”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” he stretches over your shoulder to wring your panties back up your leg, “It’ll be unpleasant, but I think you need to wear these back to your apartment.”

“I’ll live,” you pick at the elastic to Yuuji’s pants and snap them back against his sweaty thigh, “Can’t be worse than this, pee pants.”

“Hey, it’s not pee,” he pouts once again tonight, “And be nice.”

You shake your head, leaning down to press your lips against Yuuji’s once again. Soaking in the taste like you’d been starved of it your entire life, “Never.”

I love how so many people (including myself) thought that Nayuta’s personality would be closer to Makima’s, but instead she acts exactly how you’d think a child raised by Denji would act

Why in every Bakugou x Reader, Y/N always gotta be 4'9 and hates spicy food or anything mild and needs bakugou to teach her how to cook because she can't cook for shit?

Like bro, not every reader is white.🤦🏾‍♀️

Did You Miss Me?

Summary: Katsuki worries that you might be cheating on him when you don’t seem to miss him when he leaves on long missions. 7.5k, angsty fluff, domesticity, Bakugo x Reader

A/N: A story I’ve had kicking around for a while and decided to write and post. It is almost entirely fluff, with a little bit of angst mixed in. It’s aimed at military brats in general and I may or may not have written this to help myself deal with that trauma a little bit.

Content Warnings: Cursing, implied sex once, suspecting partner of cheating, might be a little ooc

You were terrible at expressing your emotions. It had always been that way. You never learned how to say the things you wanted to say, and you hardly even understood them enough to know what you felt at all.

It was one of the reasons you and Katsuki got along so well.

You two had met at the entrance exam to U.A., and it had been anything but a happy meeting. He’d thought you were stuck up, and you’d thought he was an ass. You both somehow ended up in Class 1A together, and had butted heads through half of the first year. But somewhere in that half a year, something about the way you saw each other changed.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, at first. The both of you sniped at each other as you had been doing for months, still insulted each other, still tormented each other. But somewhere along the way you both realized a fundamental misunderstanding in your communication.

Katsuki, you realized, didn’t talk with words. At least, he didn’t express what he meant with words. And you, he realized, didn’t either. Katsuki spoke with actions, and you spoke with body language. And once you both realized that, no one could tell the difference between how you two acted.

You both sniped still, insulted still, tormented still. But you were actually speaking to each other now, in a language no one else understood. His friends knew his actions spoke louder than his words, that he rarely meant his insults wholeheartedly, but they could not trade words without speaking one, as the two of you did by the end of that first year.

“How do you do that?” he asked aloud that summer, staring up at the stars from his backyard. The two of you had just had a silent argument in front of both your parents at your birthday party. It hadn’t been anything big, just friendly teasing about your choice in cake flavor.

“Do what?”

“Talk like that. You say things without talking, and you’ve started to do these weird… bird chips too. How do you talk like that?” You shrugged, laying down next to him to look at the stars too.

“Oh, the chirps? You just-”

“I don’t mean how you physically do it. How do you understand what I mean, even when I don’t say anything?”

“Because you do say things.” You turned to look at each other, and the look of contentment on your face melted Katsuki’s heart a little.

“Every time you crunch your nose when you’re confused, or raise your left eyebrow when you’re impressed, or scoff when you get embarrassed, you say something without even meaning to.”

“Tch, whatever,” he grumbled, turning back to the stars to hide the light blush on his cheeks.

“See, you did it just now, Pop Tart.” You poked his cheek as he pouted at the sky.

“I’m not a damn Pop Tart, whatever the hell that is.”

“‘Course you are! I mean, you’ve got such a sour personality, it’s a wonder anyone can stand you,” you said with a smile. “And when you get angry, you set your quirk off a little, even if you don’t mean to. It makes this little popping noise. So, Pop Tart.”

It was quiet between you two for a while, the sound of both of your parents talking amongst each other reaching into the night through the screen door. Your siblings were upstairs, keeping each other busy away from the adults. Maybe playing hide and seek, maybe just yelling at each other, speaking to one another the same way you spoke to Katsuki.

“Why do you talk like that? Without saying anything?” Katsuki whispered. You sat, still staring at the stars as you tried to figure out what to say. He almost thought you hadn’t heard, when you replied.

“Because words never worked for me. I mean, you’ve met my dad, he’s a bit of a hot head. Worse than you, sometimes,” you chuckle lightly, trying to push away the bad memories. “Someone like that isn’t in touch with his emotions enough to teach a kid how to talk about them, let alone how to deal with them. So I taught myself a way.”

You both kept talking that way your whole lives. Your classmates picked up that they could talk to you without talking, but only a few realized how to talk back. Katsuki, of all of them, was still the most fluent in that language, one you had spoken before learning how to actually talk.

You knew what he had meant in second year, when he sat with you in a tree after school, stuttering over his words and unwilling to meet your eyes as pink dusted over his cheeks. You had kissed him, just a quick peck on the lips. He knew what you meant when you pressed your forehead to his after, eyes scrunched tight and noses brushing together.

He had known what you had meant when you stood outside his dorm in the middle of the night a month later, dark rings under your eyes as you stared at nothing, looking so much smaller than you had ever let yourself be seen. He had pulled you into his chest, clutching you tight as you did the same, tears finally slipping from your eyes. And you had known what he meant when he rested his head on yours as you cried into his shoulder.

You stayed with him once your family left, the military calling your mother back to the States, your father and younger siblings in tow. The two of you had been prepared to fight on the matter. Fight for you to stay behind, finish your education at U.A. But it hadn’t been necessary. Your parents and his had pulled you two aside and suggested the idea before the two of you could even bring it up.

Your families had grown close over the year you and Katsuki had been friends, and your parents would have no one else house you if you were to stay. You both agreed quickly, and within two weeks of the conversation, you were moved into the Bakugo’s spare bedroom and your family had moved back to somewhere in the States.

It was the first time he noticed something truly strange about you. You moved on with your life almost too quickly. You adjusted to living with him and his family within a week, as if you had always lived with them. You never talked about your family. Granted, you rarely had, there’d been no need. Your house was practically Katsuki’s house too, your younger siblings had practically become his, too. Hell, he found himself missing them more than you seemed to.

But he brushed it off. After all, it was the middle of the school year. You couldn’t exactly let this shake you with the mandatory work studies and homework and all. And you still called your family, when you could. Time zones were quite the pain, but you made it work.

You graduated together. You were there when he and Eijiro opened their agency a year later. Hell, you were the first person to turn in an application to join, handing it to him the moment he clocked into the place for the first time. It was more a gesture, you both knew; you could have handed it to him that morning at the breakfast table.

Through everything, you both made communication a priority. You were both well aware of how you two couldn’t talk about your emotions to save your lives, so sat down regularly to talk things through. Even when your anger issues fed off each other and the two of you blew up, you would make it a point to come back later and talk it through. Sometimes it took a few days, sometimes you needed to talk with a friend to mediate, but you would talk.

You both wanted this to work. Katsuki knew that. You wouldn’t put so much effort into something you didn’t want to work out. Neither would he. But lately, something had been feeling wrong.

Katsuki and you both had started to take missions that required you to leave for weeks at a time. He always made a big deal about you leaving, getting a “last date” in before you left. He'd almost made you late for several flights because he didn’t want to say goodbye yet. When you were gone, he couldn’t wait for you to get back. He was antsier than normal, more likely to snap at the heroes and sidekicks at the agency. He called you every night before you went to bed, even if it meant he had to wake up at 3 a.m. to wish you good night.

When you got back, there was always something that had to happen. A date of some kind, no matter how small. He would be nigh inseparable from you for hours, showering you with affection the whole time. Whether he picked you up from the airport or you took an Uber back to the house, the first thing he would always do was pull you into him, smothering you in a hug and kissing you all over your face to make up for lost time.

But when he left… it was different.

You went on a “last date” with him, too, but it never seemed like you were as desperate to make the most of it like he was. You’d help him pack, sneaking in some of his favorite snacks somehow no matter how hard he tried to keep you from doing it. You’d kiss him at the door, or at the airport if you dropped him off, but it was him that always tried to stay longer, never you trying to make him stay. No one ever mentioned you seeming more stressed with him gone, even Mina and Eijiro, who could read your body language almost as well as Katsuki himself could after seven years of constantly being around you.

When he got back, you would have your own little celebration. You’d greet him at the airport gate, pulling him into you for a hug as he did for you, rubbing your head against his in a gesture that meant more to you than kissing him ever could, whispering how you missed him. You’d make a meal, cuddle under a blanket for a movie night that would often turn into something more.

But you were not constantly seeking to be by his side, like he was seeking to be by yours. You never pulled him into you like he was the last source of air, like he did for you. The thing that really made him suspicious was that you outright said that you missed him. You never outright said what you were feeling. You were too uncertain of how, usually.

“It just… it feels like they don’t miss me when I’m gone,” he confessed to Eijiro. It was one of his days off while you were gone, something he hated since it meant he had nothing to do and you weren’t there. The two of them were sitting in a nice cafe in a back corner, away from windows with hats pulled low to hopefully avoid being spotted.

“Have you guys talked about it yet?” the red-head asked. “If it’s really bothering you that much you know they wouldn’t brush you off.” Katsuki’s leg was bouncing under the table, and he raised the paper coffee cup to his lips. It was good coffee, one of your favorite places, in fact.

“It’s just… what if there’s someone else?” Eijiro choked a little, setting the cup down and turning his head as he tried to hack up the coffee that had gone down the wrong pipe.

“I know, I don’t think they’d do that either, but-”

“Clearly you do, if you’re bringing it up. Seriously, man, talk to them. As soon as you can. What even makes you think that, anyway? You know how they feel about stuff like that. They can’t even stand when two love interests try to kiss when one of them is in a relationship, and that’s TV.”

Katsuki rubbed at his face, shaking his head. His hand came to rest on his mouth as he tried to form into words what he was thinking. There was an old coffee stain on the edge of the wooden table. He remembered it from one of your first dates. Someone had closed the cash register too loudly and you’d jumped, spilling coffee over the table and your leg. It was an old joke between you both, now.

“I don’t really know. But… they don’t seem like they miss me, and I can’t think of another reason they wouldn’t. It doesn’t make any sense!” His hands ran into his hair, tugging on the strands as his hat began to ride up. Eijiro let out a sigh, the two of them oblivious to the growing noise in the cafe.

“Whatever you decide to do, it should probably be face to face. This is not the kind of conversation you have with someone over the phone.”

“You got that right,” Katsuki mumbled, hands pushing his hat further up his head.

“Mommy, look! It’s Dynamight!” Oh shit.

The day you got back was tense. All the usual things Katsuki would have planned were canceled. Eijiro was right, he needed to talk to you about this. He asked Mina and Eijiro to show up, just in case it turned into a fight. He prayed it wouldn’t.

He picked you up at the airport, pulled you into him like he always did, but you knew something was wrong. His shoulders were tense, and he had looked nervous when you saw him. He pulled away faster than normal, hands on your shoulders to tell you he meant business.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about tonight.”

You were tired. You’d just gotten off a four hour flight, the mission had been exhausting, and you hadn’t slept right since you left home. You never slept right without Katsuki around. The part of you that sounded like your dad told you to brush him off, reprimand him for asking this of you so soon after your arrival.

The rest of you told that part to shove it. Katsuki was worried, and he wanted to talk about something. You owed it to him as your partner to talk it over with him, whatever it turned out to be.

“Of course, Love. Am I allowed to change beforehand?” You cracked a small smile, resting a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder so he knew you were taking him seriously, so he knew the joke wasn’t meant to be a jab. He smiled in return, resting his head against yours.

“I guess.”

Katsuki’s prayers were answered. The conversation didn’t turn into a fight. In fact, it didn’t happen at all. Almost as soon as he got home, right as you left to change into clothes that didn’t “reek of plane and airport,” as you liked to put it, his manager called.

“Hello, Dynamight. I know this is short notice, but there’s been an emergency in Okinawa. It’s all hands on deck over there, and we need you to get over there. There’s a plane leaving in five hours, we need you on it. I’ll text you the details.”

“The hell? I have the next two days off and Y/N just got back!”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but this came directly from the Commission. I tried to keep you out of it, but they wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry. It’s supposed to take a month, that was the shortest they would allow you to stay.”

“Tch… fine. Send me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Will do, sir. Sorry, again.”

The line went dead, and Katsuki wanted to throw his phone so badly. Blame it on some accident in the kitchen or something. He couldn’t make it to a flight if he didn’t know where it was, and he couldn’t get the information if he never got that text from his manager.

“You have to go in, don’t you?” Katsuki turned to you. You were on top of the stairs in your favorite pair of pants and an old All Might t-shirt you had stolen from his side of the closet. You still looked tired from the flight, but you gestured for him to come up.

“I’m sorry, baby. I-” You pulled him into a kiss, letting him hold you as you did. When he pulled away, he rested his head on yours, noses touching.

“It’s fine. I know you would have stayed if you could. We can talk about that thing when you get back, okay? Now come on. How long do you have to pack?”

“A couple hours at best. The flight leaves in five hours,” he said. You closed your eyes and nodded softly, taking the information in. You were no doubt already planning what he would need. He could do it himself, you both knew, but it was something you cherished doing with him.

“Alright. How long?”

“A month. But it’s an emergency situation, so it might go longer.” You nodded, pulling your head away and holding his hand as you looked into his eyes. The look you gave him, tired but full of love, made him feel awful for what he wanted to talk to you about.

“Let’s get packing, then.”

When he got to the hotel he would be staying in, he wanted to just collapse. But he was still in outside clothes, and he refused to go to bed without pajamas. He dug into his bag for where you always packed the comfy pants he liked sleeping in.

They were a pair you had ordered for yourself last year with angry chihuahuas, but you’d gotten them in the wrong size. You had been rather upset, excited for the new pair of silly pajama pants, and he had immediately taken them and put them on, fully expecting them to be so ridiculously not his size that it made you laugh. He had not expected them fit him perfectly, and when he walked out with the angry chihuahua pants you had been equally stunned.

The memory of your face when he’d walked out, utterly gobsmacked that the pants had fit him, stuck with him. You had been surprised, and trying not to laugh at his face. And then you’d pretended to accuse him of switching the sizes because he “wanted the damn things so bad,” even though he hadn’t even been in the house when you ordered them. It made him smile, even now as he pulled the pair of pants out. They were bigger and more crinkly than normal.

He pulled the couple bags of snacks out from where you’d folded the pants around them. A bag of extra spicy kaki-no-tane, and two packs of his favorite instant ramen had been hidden in the pants, and the pockets felt like they had some kind of candy in them. But most important was the note you’d taped to the snacks.

Come back to talk to me about that thing, okay Pop Tart?

Love

Y/N

There were a couple of hasty doodles on the note. A few hearts, a stick figure drawing of him blowing up a villain with a cartoonishly angry face, and a stick figure crowd cheering for him. Your notes were as cheesy as they had been in high school, and he laughed. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see you calling.

“Your doodles are still as terrible as always,” he said by way of greeting. You huffed good naturedly on the other end.

“Well, I’m sorry Mr. Art Critic, sir, but I only had a few minutes to make them.”

“In a few minutes you still managed to make my mouth bigger than my damn head. And the hearts? If I didn’t know better, I’d say you had feelings for me.” The exchange felt nice, but something about it felt hollow to him. The nagging feeling that you had someone else wouldn’t leave him alone, making him feel guilty for having this silly little conversation with you.

“Maybe I do, or maybe I thought they just enhanced my masterpiece.” You sounded less tired than earlier. Maybe you’d gotten a nap in. Maybe someone else was there with you, making you feel better after a long day.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, trying to sound as happy as you did. But it was hard. The doubt, the frustration, and the missing you all made it hard.

“... It’s really bothering you, huh? That thing you wanted to talk about?” He sighed. Even three hours and hundreds of miles away, you could read him.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel worried about something like… like whatever it is that’s bothering you.” He almost broke, told you right there what was scaring him so much.

“I… I don’t think I can talk about it over the phone. It’s a face to face kind of conversation, you know?” he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. He could almost see you nodding, that stupid, warm smile on your face you used to reassure him.

“I get it. And I meant what I wrote on that note. Come back, so you can tell me all about it. Don’t think you get to die just to get out of talking through this,” you said, and he could hear your own throat start to tighten.

“I will. Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Katsuki. Love.” He smirked at your unconventional confession. Though he supposed he wasn’t much better, for playing along with it.

“Love, too.”

The month dragged on for Katsuki. Helping with the disaster relief, keeping villains from taking advantage of the weakened infrastructure, and his worry made every hour feel like days. But he had a date marked on his calendar, exactly a month after he left. The day the Commission said he could go home.

Until it wasn’t

“Those fucking bastards! Changing the date last minute. They told me I’d leave tomorrow two days after I got here, just to fuckin’... Others are going home on time, but-”

“Katsu, hey.” You pulled his attention back to your face on the computer screen. Your arm was stretched out of frame, and he just knew you were holding your laptop screen. “It’s okay. I had a feeling.”

“It’s not okay! First they pull me here right after you get back, despite the time I took off, then they change the day I’m supposed to go home… Sometimes I just wish I was able to blast myself all the way back to you, so they can’t keep me here like this.” It felt like he’d grabbed your heart and squeezed it. You had to hold back a couple tears, and you resolved to call your mother about it later. You owed her… you weren’t sure what, but you owed her something.

Katsuki was just sitting silent on the other end, staring at you for a minute.

“What do you mean, you had a feeling?” There was the edge of suspicion in his voice, and it cut. You didn’t know what he suspected of you, but it hurt that he did at all.

“It was like this with Mom a lot. Anytime she would tell us when she was going to come home, it would get changed. It’s why I told you not to tell me, it’s bad luck.”

“But I’ve told you when I’ll come home before, and you’ve told me too. It hasn’t changed before. The Commission’s just being-”

“A government entity that doesn’t care about either of us beyond numbers in a list. Pieces to push around on the board. The other times were with other agencies, and agencies care about their heroes because their heroes are the ones running the agencies. The Commission doesn’t give a shit.”

He sighed on the other end. He was laying on his stomach talking to you, chin in his hand as he turned his head away. His elbow braced him against the bed, and his feet kicked up behind him. He would kill you if you mentioned that he kicked his feet up like a teen girl on her phone to anyone. It made it that much more funny to you.

“It sucks. I just wanna get home, and now I have to wait another week.”

“Check the inside pocket on your suitcase,” you said, a mischievous little smirk starting on your face.

“You didn’t.”

“You won’t know unless you look~!” You sang. He huffed, going off screen to check his bag. It took too long.

“The other pocket,” you yelled. You heard the telltale crinkling of the bag of wasabi kaki-no-tane and Katsuki cursing you as he stomped back to the bed.

“How the fuck do you always manage to sneak these things in?! I swear, you have a second quirk you aren’t telling me about,” he said, opening the bag and grabbing a few pieces.

“Sure I do. Not my fault you never check your bag,” You shot back.

“I do! And then this shit appears out of nowhere!” You laughed at his false indignation. You knew he liked the snacks, or you wouldn’t pack them. Plus, it was a game the two of you could play, no matter how far apart you were. No matter how suspicious of you he felt.

“I’m going to have some extra time while I’m here. Anything you want?” He asked. You snapped back into reality. You hadn’t even realized you’d started to drift away.

“Oh, um… Could you bring back some brown sugar senbei? They’re super tasty, and I wanna mail some to Mom for Christmas.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll pick a couple packs up. We could just get some back home, you know.”

“I do, but the Okinawan ones taste better, and those cost an arm and a leg everywhere else.”

“So I hear. Anything else you need?”

“Nah, just the head of whoever made the decision to yank you around, but they’re probably here, which means I can get that myself,” you joked. Katsuki cracked a smile.

“Careful, they might be listening to you through your computer mic and charge you with conspiracy to commit murder. Then we’d have to go on the run, and you and I both know Ei couldn’t handle running the agency alone.”

“He won’t be alone, he’s got Mina and Denki and Sero.”

“Oh, yes, and they just inspire confidence.” You blew a raspberry at him and his attitude.

“You know damn well they can handle it if it’s all four of them.”

“You’re right, I do.” Katsuki fought down a yawn. “I gotta turn in. G’night, Y/N.”

“Night, Katsu. Stay safe.”

“I will.”

There was another delay in getting Katsuki home, and you scolded him for mentioning he had a week left. You made him promise not to tell you until he was on the plane and had taken off that he was coming home. You worked on getting ingredients together to make mapo tofu and miso butter cookies in the meantime. You wanted to have everything put together for when he got home.

You had a feeling he was going to want to talk to you the minute he got home, so you called Eijiro and Mina to let them know ahead of time that you would be calling them in to mediate. You didn’t think it would escalate, but Katsuki had been sitting on this for over a month. He might blow up after keeping a lid on this for so long. He had been adamant about not talking about whatever was bothering him over the phone, and you didn’t push him.

The minute you got the text that he had taken off, at 2:27 p.m., you started cooking. You didn’t want to cook the tofu until he got back, so he could have a fresh, hot meal, but the cookies could be made ahead of time. Once they were done, you did a quick round of the house to make sure everything was put away and clean.

You checked the time. 5 p.m. You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and a packet of Airborne. You opened the packet and the water bottle, dumped the powder in, and popped the cap back on. You shook the bottle to mix the two together all the way to your car.

It was with you as you sat in the arrivals area in the airport, waiting for Katsuki’s flight. You’d been waiting for twenty minutes. Not uncommon, but you were worried. Had something happened once he got airborne? Had the plane needed to turn back? You checked your phone for any new messages from Katsuki.

The waiting was always the worst part. Flights weren’t always on time, and you hated it. It meant you could never be certain when Katsuki was going to be in your reach again. Or if something had happened that the tower just hadn’t found out about yet.

The relief you felt when you looked at the big screen displaying the arrivals and departures and saw that Katsuki’s flight had landed ten minutes ago almost knocked the wind out of you. He was safe, nothing had happened midair, he would probably be out in a few minutes.

Ten more minutes passed before you saw Katsuki walk out among the crowd. He had his carry on bag over one shoulder, scanning the crowd of people sitting, looking for you. You stood, walking over to him. He picked up the pace once he saw you, crushing you with a hug once you got close enough and burying his head in the crook of your neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” you said to him. His shoulders tensed a little. You’d said the wrong thing. Or maybe it was something you’d done. Whatever it was, you didn’t know what to do to fix it.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered into your neck, not letting go of you despite his want to leave.

“Okay,” you said, pushing your head into his through the ball cap he wore, waiting for him to let go so you could go get his suitcase. He did eventually let go, and you handed him the water bottle.

“Okinawa’s hot this time of year, and you just got off a plane,” you said as you handed it to him. He stared at the pink lemonade flavored death you’d just handed him.

“You trying to kill me or something?”

“Look, I hate it too, but it does work and I don’t want you getting sick right after you’ve gotten home.” He rolled his eyes, but did as you asked and drank the vitamin C rich water. You pretended not to notice him fake gagging after he’d downed the water bottle as you walked towards the baggage claim.

When you got home, Eijiro and Mina were already there. You had long since given Mina a key to your house, and Katsuki had given one to Ei. They were your closest friends, welcome in your home anytime, even if you had to fight Katsuki to agree to give them the keys. He’d said they could know they were welcome without having the keys, but he ultimately caved.

The worrying part was that you hadn’t asked them to come over or told them Katsuki was home yet. Which meant Katsuki had called them. Which meant he was also worried this would blow up. Not a good sign.

You greeted your friends before helping Katsuki carry his bags upstairs. He didn’t even take time to change clothes or unpack anything before heading back downstairs. That really set off alarm bells. True, you both had only been taking missions out of the city for a year now, and Katsuki didn’t always unpack and change right away like you, but it didn’t sit well with you.

You both sat in the living room facing each other. Mina had made tea, a small tactic to keep things civil. You couldn’t very well flip a table over dishes when there were dishes on the table.

Eijiro sat to Katsuki’s right, Mina on your left. That way they could signal each other without necessarily alerting either of you in case they needed to act without you both noticing.

“Okay, Katsuki. We’re both here, what do you need to talk about?” He took a deep breath through his nose, gathering his strength. His fingers were steepled, hiding the lower half of his face as he stared at the coffee table between you. Kirishima rested a hand on his shoulder to encourage him.

“Do you miss me?” he blurted out, looking you in the eyes. “When I leave, do you miss me at all?” It felt… bad. You didn’t know how to describe the feeling, though you supposed hurt was the best way to say it. 

“Of course I do. Why would y-” you stopped yourself. This wasn’t a blame-game, he was worried. “What was it that… that gave you the impression that I didn’t?” You looked away from him as you chose your words, but you brought your gaze back to his as you finished.

“You… you don’t act like you miss me. You don’t… treat me how I treat you when you come back. Or when I leave. It’s like it’s just a normal day for you!” His shoulders were tightening, and he tore his gaze from you, like he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

“Hey, man. Calm down,” Ei urged.

“Okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat. “What exactly do you mean, when you say I don’t treat you like you treat me?”

“Do you honestly not see it? I… When you’re about to go, I take every second I can with you. I feel like part of me is gone when you aren’t here, and-” Katsuki started to stand, and Eijiro stepped in.

“Sit down, Kat. You’re worked up. Take a breath, a drink, something.” Katsuki looked like he wanted to challenge the red head, but Mina stood too.

“Bakugo, he’s right. You need to calm down.” He sighed, collapsing back to the couch. You had a feeling he’d been planning on pacing, but it was best for everyone to stay seated. It was easier to get worked up if you were already up and moving around. Katsuki took a drink of the tea, wincing as he burned his tongue. You reached a hand across the table to him, and he took it as he set the cup down.

“... I’m different, when you’re gone. Everyone knows it. Hell, Ei’s had to stop me from blasting a hole in my desk over the stupidest shit when you’re gone. When you get back I…”

He sat, thinking about how to say wherever it was he needed to say. You rubbed your thumb across the back of his hand to comfort him, and he did the same.

“I can’t let you go when you leave or when you come back. But when I leave… you act like you don’t care.”

“Of course I care!” You interrupted. You winced as soon as you said it. Why was it that the tactics you hated when they were used against you were always the first ones you used? “Sorry. Please, continue.” Katsuki nodded.

“You don’t seem like you value the time before I go the same way I do. No one notices you acting any different at the agency when I’m not around. You don’t… you act like there’s someone else here while I’m gone.”

The bottom dropped out of your stomach. He thought what?

“And I don’t think you would, but I don’t know why else you would act like that. I mean, you don’t talk about how you feel, even less than me. But every time I come back you have to tell me that you missed me, and it just… it doesn’t make sense.” He spat out all at once, his free hand tangling itself in his hair.

You just sat there, breathing. Did he think you were cheating on him? Or was it just his bad communication skills? Granted, they were better than they were, but it was times like these you wondered how much they’d improved.

“Katsuki,” you said, reaching your second hand to grab his, “if I tell you that there’s no one else, will you believe me?” Tears were starting to fall as you looked at him. He moved his hand from his hair, wrapping it around yours.

“Promise me.” He lifted his hands from yours, leaving you free to hold your hands up. It was something you’d started with your siblings. The childish game of crossing your fingers behind your back to get out of a promise had taken hold in them when they were younger, and so to prove honesty you would hold your hands in front of you. Proof that you meant what you said. It was something you still did, no matter how childish it seemed.

“Katsuki, I promise you… I would never, ever, cheat on you.” Relief washed over Katsuki, the tension draining from his shoulders as he watched you.

“I believe you. And… I’m sorry, I don’t- I…” You rested a hand on his again, tears still bubbling op and spilling out from your eyes.

“What do you actually want to ask? Because if you actually thought I was cheating-”

“I didn’t! I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of another reason you would act like that.” He’d cut you off, but you decided to let it slide.

“Like what?”

“Like me leaving isn’t a big deal! When you leave, it feels like everything falls apart. When I leave you just… act like it’s business as usual.” he took a deep breath, grabbing your hand from across the table. You nodded in understanding.

“Do you think you’d feel okay doing the rest of this in private?”

“Yeah. Just… didn’t want things to get out of hand. Are you okay with that?” you nodded.

“Okay, Eiji. You heard them. We come back to find the house destroyed again and you both are grounded, ‘kay?” Mina half-joked. There would be hell to pay if she found out you two started fighting once they were gone. Eijiro got up to go with her, giving a last supportive pat on Katsuki’s back before walking out the door.

You took a breath, drawing back into yourself as you carefully put the words together.

“When you leave… I don’t know. I don’t miss you the same way you miss me. I can’t miss you like you miss me. I don’t know how, I guess.” You paused, taking a minute to breathe. You were already crying, and you still needed to explain. Katsuki didn’t ask anything as you pulled yourself together, so you continued.

“Mom… the first memory I have of her is when I was two. She’s in the kitchen making eggs. My second is a couple months later. She was in the desert, and she’d recorded a message to send to me and Dad. She couldn’t come home when she said she would. She… was trying really hard not to cry.” Again you paused. Again, Katsuki didn’t ask anything.

“That kept happening. Over and over and over again. I got older and older, and I started to understand what it meant for her to leave. I never knew for sure when she’d come back, cause if she told us it was almost a guarantee that the date would change. Hell, I didn’t know if she’d come back. And that was everyday for me for a long time.

“The point is… When you have to keep saying goodbye to someone, you learn how to let them go, even if it is just because you can’t remember how to hold on. You keep going because life keeps going and you can’t afford to spend time thinking about how they might not come back this time.”

You took a last, shuddery breath, staring down at the coffee table between you two.

“I don’t know how to miss you like you miss me. I don’t know if I know how to miss anyone, anymore. You’re right, I do say it when I hate downright talking about things like that, but it’s because you deserve to hear it even if I don’t know how to say it how we normally talk. You deserve to be missed. And… and I’m sorry that I don’t-”

Katsuki pulled you to your feet, guiding you around the coffee table towards his couch. You collapse next to him on the couch. He holds you close, and you do the same, crying, terrified that after everything you said, he doesn’t think you care. You do care, you care so much, but you don’t know how to express it. You hardly know how to feel it.

“Hey, shh. It’s alright. I get it.” You sag into him even more, relief flooding through you. He didn’t think you were cheating on him. He didn’t think you didn’t care about him.

“You’re shit at explanations, though. Did you really have to bring your mom into this?” he joked.

“Shut up, you dick,” you laugh back, tears and a little snot still running on your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know. I should’ve asked.” You gently swatted his shoulder. It was awkward, considering it was behind you, but you made it work.

“You didn’t know to ask. I can’t blame you for that. Thank you for wanting to talk to me about it. Even if you did think there was someone else.” Katsuki chuckled at you, rocking you both on the couch as you just enjoyed each other’s company, something you hadn’t been able to do in person in months.

“Can you blame me? You and I both know you could pull just about anybody you wanted. Long as you managed to keep your big fat mouth shut, that is.” You snorted, snuggling in closer to your partner.

“You’re half right. I managed to pull this fucking amazing guy a while back, and I didn’t have to watch my mouth at all. In fact-” you pulled back to look Katsuki in the eyes, “As I recall, he said it was hot after I cursed him out for making fun of me for being scared of a cash register.”

He smirked back. Your eyes were puffy, there were tear tracks down your face, and snot ran down your nose, and he was certain it was all over his shirt now. You looked a total mess. But you were his mess, and he wouldn’t give you up for anything. He brushed a thumb under one of your eyes, wiping away a lingering tear.

“Dude must have some pretty shitty taste to still like you after that, huh?” Your laugh came out almost like a cough.

“Oh, the worst. He’s got these chihuahua pajama pants that he insists he didn’t want, just took them cause they were his size. As if he didn’t go behind my back and change the size so they could be his.”

“And you didn’t make fun of him? I’m impressed.”

“Oh, no. I made fun of him all the time, even before that. Gave him this stupid nickname but he didn’t even get mad about it once.”

“Bet he loved your stupid doodles.”

“Oh he did. Absolutely head over heels for those dumb things. Never critiqued me once, no matter how awful they were. I mean, seriously, they were just stick figures.”

“He sounds boring,” Katsuki said, leaning in so your noses brushed.

“Oh, god, he is awful. But I’m glad he’s in my life, even if I don’t tell him to his face as much as I probably should.”

“Yeah, well, just because you don’t say it to his face doesn’t mean he doesn’t know.” You leaned up to kiss him. It was slow, loving, the both of you just taking each other in again after so long apart.

“Good. I’d hate to have wasted so many cuddles on him for him to not get the message,” you said, snuggling back into Katsuki. He shifted so he was laying back with you on top of him. You stayed that way for a minute, listening to each other’s breathing.

“You wanna watch something?” he asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said, eyes closed as your head rested on his chest, listening to his heart.

“I do.”

“Then turn on something.”

“The remote’s on the other side of the table.”

“And?”

“And I can’t reach it with you laying on me.”

“Sucks.” Katsuki sighed in mock annoyance.

“Can I at least get a blanket?”

“No. I’m the blanket now.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Fine, I’ll get the remote. But I still get to be the blanket.”

“Deal.”