Warm Up Redraw Of Top Left Drawing

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ON MY KNEES FOR AN IZUKU SMAU WITH HIM AND MC CRUSHING ON EACH OTHER SOOO BAD BUT THEY'RE TWO IDIOTS WHO GO: "oh they wanna hang out one on one? Damn we're such good friends"

just us? | i. midoriya

just two best friends hanging out one-on-one every weekend, doing couple things, and totally not dating (yet)

HELLO! This is my first time requesting so my apologies if I didn't do it right

(｡>﹏<)

(Katsuki x insomniac!reader)

I love your writing style smm, so I was hoping you could write one where the reader is like an insomniac, staying up late to be chronically online and stuff and Katsuki tries to help her ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

I struggle with insomnia quite a bit, and I just stay up, scrolling through my phone or computer even if I don't have anything to do on there. And it's not like a one time thing either, it's like every night, and the only way I actually go to sleep is holding my plushies or listening to ASMR/or calming music, but it still takes quite a long time for it to kick in.

So I would love it if you could convey that in one of your oneshots!!

If you don't wish to go through with my request for any reason, no worries and I hope you have a good rest of your evening! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

I wish you tons of love and good times all around, thank you for listening (∩˃o˂∩)♡

katsuki trying to help his insomniac partner

katsuki was writing down what was on the board, listening to what mister aizawa was teaching when he turned his head to see you nodding off. he glared, and checked to see when the teacher wasn’t looking, then reached over to push your shoulder.

you slowly turned toward him and pouted, quietly grumbling, “what?”

“pay attention. you’re not failing this test, idiot.” he scoffed, changing his attention to his paper and trying to solve the equation in front of him.

after a few minutes, he heard a loud thump to his left, and he sighed once he saw what happened, your hair was splayed out everywhere, your head lay on the desk, and your arms wrapped around your head, protecting it in some sort of way. he reached his arm out, not caring about the equation anymore, and wrapped his hand around your bicep, squeezing it, and small explosions landed on your arm, causing there to be a black mark on your uniform.

you swatted his hand away, seemingly wide awake when he whispered, “we’re talking after class.”

you retorted and laughed, “no shit, katsuki, we always talk after class.”

he rolled his eyes and scoffed, done with your antics. but when the time came, and the class was done, school was officially over for the day, he dragged you by your hand into your dorm.

once you set your bags down and yawned, he asked, crossing his arms after he took his clothes off and changed, “why the hell are you always so tired during the day? do you not sleep or some stupid shit like that?”

you shook your head and then nodded, a little confused about how to explain it with just signals. you spoke, “i have insomnia.”

his eyes widened. well, now he felt like an asshole.

he mumbled, “first off, you need to sleep quicker and easier. what do you think makes you calmer and more sleepy?”

“i think being around people i like makes me sleepy because i feel relaxed around them, like a comfort person. then i like listening to asmr, i love listening to soft taps and crunchy sounds! it’s so cool!” you exclaimed.

he rolled his eyes. he didn’t know what the fuck asmr was, but he assumed it helped, so he spoke, “sleep with me tonight, and we’ll put that asmr thing on.”

“really?” you asked, eyes shining with admiration. all he was worrying about was your phone, as you managed to check it around a hundred times a day, even when you weren’t supposed to. who knew what you would be like at night?

so when it came to be around eight at night, you found yourself in katsuki’s dim room, with his large television screen opened up to the youtube app. you complained, “why are we here so early, kats?”

he answered, “because i’m guessing you take a long time to sleep. put on your favorite channel and get in bed.”

he stripped off his shirt as you took control of the remote, typing in the letters of your favorite asmr channel before clicking on a video. you climbed into bed with katsuki and crawled closer to him, wanting to feel his warmth.

after a couple of minutes, you reached over to the nightstand to grab your phone when katsuki forced your hand down. he argued, “no phones past eight.”

you immediately tried to argue as well, “but—“

“go the hell to bed. no phones.” he kept his word, and eventually your eyes started to feel heavy.

you mumbled, digging your face deeper into his side, and around two hours later, after conversations, and switching through multiple videos, he finally felt your breathing evening, and he sighed.

although you had to wake up early in the morning, two hours preparing to sleep was better than many more hours. he smirked to himself, katsuki had to make this part of your nightly routine.

hi i hope this was realistic enough! i’m so glad you love my writing, you have no idea how much this affects me

How I be looking at 3am on tumblr and Ao3 when I gotta be up at 6am for lectures

your.. not wrong??

i have the urge to eat straight instant ramyun powder

I can't stop thinking about huge cock husband! katsuki HELP MEEE

katsuki knew he was big — too big, honestly.

he could tell by the way you struggled to take him every single time, your pretty little body clenching around him like you were made for him, yet still fighting to adjust — even after marrying him.

and fuck, it drove him absolutely wild.

"no wonder you walk around like you own the place," you teased, sprawled out on the bed as katsuki stripped off his shirt.

your eyes shamelessly dragged down his sculpted chest — lingering far too long where his sweats hung low on his hips. "if i had a dick that big, i would too."

katsuki froze mid-motion, his head snapping toward you, a smug grin already tugging at his lips.

"yeah?" he drawled, stepping closer to the bed. "sounds like someone's jealous."

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "jealous? please. i just feel bad for you—must be hard walkin' around with all that weight between your legs."

that earned a loud, barking laugh from him, but the glint in his eye was pure predatory hunger. "oh yeah?"

his knee sank into the mattress as he crawled toward you, towering over you in an instant. "well, you're about to feel just how hard it really is, sweet girl."

your face burned. "i mean—it's just— y'know, objectively speaking..."

"objectively, my ass," he scoffed as he yanked his sweats down.

his massive, thick cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen with an obscene thump, already flushed an angry shade of red at the tip. heavy, girthy, and veiny as hell, precum leaking steadily down the length like he was aching to stuff you full.

you could see the way it throbbed, the sheer size of it always leaving you speechless — and now? watching him stroke himself lazily, his massive hand barely wrapping around his shaft while he watched you squirm beneath him?

your body was practically begging to be split open by him.

"c'mere," he growled, wrapping a hand around the base, thick veins bulging. "since you're so fuckin' interested in my dick, why don't you put it to good use?"

and that’s how you ended up riding him, stuffed full and stretched to your absolute limit, gasping as his cock bullied its way inside you inch by thick inch.

"fuck, baby," he groaned, watching as you tried to sink down on him, your breath hitching when his thick tip stretched you open. his large, rough hands gripped your hips, trying to guide you gently, but his patience was wearing thin. "so fuckin' tight, shit... you sure you can take all of me?"

your head lolled back, tears prickling your eyes as you forced yourself to sink lower, hands splayed on his chest for balance as his thick tip battering against your cervix. "i can—i can do it, suki... i need it, need you..."

the stretch burned so good, and you knew once you got past the initial ache, it would feel heavenly.

"shit... my perfect fuckin' wife... built to take my cock, huh?" he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as your walls squeezed around him, determined to milk him. "goddamn, look at you—fuckin' strugglin' to fit me in but still takin' it like a good girl."

you clenched at his words, and he felt it.

"fuckin' hell—"

without warning, he flipped you onto your back, his thick cock still buried deep inside you.

"sorry, baby," he grunted, pressing your knees to your chest. "gotta fuck my wife properly now."

and god, did he. his massive length pounded into you mercilessly, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. his cock bullied its way deep inside you, nudging against your cervix like it owned you, and all you could do was sob his name as your body struggled to accommodate his impossible size.

the bed creaked beneath you, your moans and his growls of "mine" and "perfect fuckin' wife" filling the room.

"s-suki! too—too deep!" you sobbed, your nails digging into his back. but he didn’t let up — he couldn’t. you felt too good wrapped around him, and the sight of your belly bulging slightly with the size of him only spurred him on.

"you can take it. built for me, remember? look at that—" he growled, pounding into you like you were his personal fucktoy. he glanced down, groaning low when he saw the bulge in your stomach from where his cock stretched you.

"shit, you feel that?" he groaned, pressing a large hand to your stomach. "my cock all the way up here? fuckin' made to be stuffed with me, huh?"

and when you finally came — hard and fast, screaming his name like a prayer — he followed instantly, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum deep inside you. his cock twitched violently as he filled you to the brim, his grip on your hips unrelenting as he rode out his high.

but even then, he stayed inside you, watching as his cum threatened to leak out around his still-hard cock.

"mmm... ain't lettin' any of that go to waste," he smirked, leaning down to kiss you breathlessly. "gonna make sure my pretty wife stays stuffed full of me."

by the time he was done with you — filling you up over and over again, making sure not a single drop of his cum went to waste escaped your fluttering hole — you were a wreck.

and as you laid there, utterly spent and boneless, your walls still struggling to keep his cock inside, one thought burned in your cock-drunk mind:

"god, i love my massive fucking husband."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ anon, i think you got me out of my slump and put my gooning mood into good use 😵‍💫 hope you guys enjoyed 💜

— now streaming! ✩

body swap quirks are few and far between in today's hero society, mostly manufactured in underground drug rings for nefarious uses. when you and your boss, dynamight, are apprehending one of said quirk users, you're unaware that his touch is what triggers the swap until it's too late.

⟡ content. 18+ mdni! | wc: ~1.2k | tw: none. pro-hero!bakugo x sidekick & secret cam girl fem!reader (mid 20s). reader is a faceless cam girl for extra money. bakugo & reader swap bodies a la freaky friday style. bakugo performs for a charity camgirl stream while in reader's body. asks of consent (no dubcon, both agreed to it!). dirty talk via messaging. mutual masturbation. vague use of toys. left open-ended purposefully. maybe ooc?? idk lol. i sat on this for weeks and feel like i blacked out while writing this in a frenzy today. prompt: "just a little more. you can take a little more, can't you?" 『 light it up like dynamight! event 』

REMINDER: CHARITY STREAM STARTING SOON!

Watching yourself through a small phone screen is not how you envisioned this night to go, especially because it's not technically you — it's your boss.

Shockingly, it didn't take much to convince Bakugo to do you a favor. Well…you are the favor he would be doing, as confusing as it sounds. The two of you settled on one condition — he didn't want you in the room with him while he ‘performed’ as you. And, as expected, to promise not to tell a soul or he'll blow you to smithereens. It was an empty threat, considering he had the fattest crush on you and preferably wants you breathing once this is all over with...if he can muster up the courage to tell you.

NOTIFICATION - GLITTERGIRLS: YOUR STREAM HAS BEGUN!

Oxytocin is such a tempting chemical and it's fucking cruel how easy it is for the human body to produce.

You should've cancelled the stream, said you were sick or dead or some crazy ass excuse, anything to not subject yourself to this delicious torture. Fuck Bakugo for agreeing to this, and for being too goddamn hypnotizing. You can't help but imagine if this is how he'd touch you if he were, well, himself. If he'd use that vibrator on you, a rough finger drawing perfect circles over your clit exactly like he is now.

You're physically unable to tear your eyes away from the screen, a familiar burn in your belly starting to become impossible to ignore. And because you're in his body...

Goal Met - $1k reached! vroomvroom20: you really know how to use that toy alienspacequeenie: yesss girl!! starnstripefan: so vocal. hot af

The notification interrupts your thoughts for a split second. Holy shit, it's working, donations flooding in and the charity progress bar steadily becoming fuller. Your fingers tap on the private chat that's reserved for mods only, a way to chat directly to him without others chiming in. They're auto-deleted post stream, thank god.

glitterbot: gj, keep going

Bakugo slows his ministrations, a clear tell that he's glancing at the chat monitor, even if you can't see his face. You continue typing, reminding him of the ground rules, shaky fingers tapping the screen as fast as possible.

glitterbot: remember, don't say names & stay in frame glitterbot: ur doing great!!

The vibrator slides over your clit on screen, eliciting a way too sexy moan that echoes from the office and mixes with the modulated ones coming from your phone speakers. It's getting harder to breathe, unable to stop yourself from shifting your hips back and forth on the couch cushions, the ache between your thighs becoming unbearable.

glitterbot: god, you're so loud... glitterbot: the money is pouring in

You take a breath. Fuck it — when the hell are you ever gonna get this chance again? To know what it feels like to be a man jerking himself off to the sight of your own body? If Bakugo gets to finger and fuck himself in your body, then it's only fair, all things considered.

glitterbot: can...i touch you? glitterbot: uh, i mean 'me' glitterbot: but it's ur body so...say yes or no so i can hear u

It's instant, the sound of a pleading 'yes!' and the sight of your body's thighs twitching sending you into overdrive. You're not thinking straight, literally thinking with your — his? — dick right now.

Goal Met - $5k reached! zaptastic007: she's really into it today crimsonr10t: no kidding phantom_thief: i can see how wet u are, goddamn

Logistics aside, you slip the snug sweatpants down over your hips and to your thighs, his flushed cock now on full display in all of it's glory for you to ogle. The sight alone makes your throat dry, the pretty blush tip sticky with precum and dripping down the shaft. If you could see your irises in a mirror right now, you swear they'd be heart-shaped.

glitterbot: holy shit...ur bigger than i imagined glitterbot: sad i can't suck it instead

Oh god, his eyes must be playing tricks on him or he's way too horny to read the computer screen properly. Are you really dirty talking to him in secret? You're trying to kill him, Bakugo thinks in a lusty haze. He can't speak, not trusting himself to keep your name out of his whiny mouth. The last thing he wants is to dox you and ruin...whatever this is building between you two. He tosses the vibrator out of frame, rolling over to reach for something else off screen.

Bakugo takes the dildo you deemed 'the five star experience' and runs it teasingly over your clit, hips bucking up and lathering it with slick. Watching him prep your body for what's to come has your own hand wrapping around his cock, mindlessly letting your fingers trace along the one vein as if it was your own body.

glitterbot: go ahead, fuck urself for me. stream time's almost up glitterbot: ur doing so good, katsuki. just a little more...u can take a little more, can't u?

That does it, the combination of his given name interlaced with those words break Bakugo's brain in ways he's never experienced. He situates your body and starts to fuck himself with the dildo, slipping in and out of your pussy with ease. Your fingers clench around his shaft, pumping slowly, palm slippery with precum making each stroke like a lightning strike to your core. When you circle your thumb over the tip, it makes you groan out loud, his voice reverbing through the living room. Bakugo must've heard it, picking up speed and sloppily rubbing your clit in messy circles in response.

Goal Met - $10k reached! zaptasic007: oh she's gonna cum soon tapespider87: oh fuck she's not faking it today

The rubber band in your belly is pulled taut, twisting tighter and tighter...and tighter...

glitterbot: i think i'm close...30 sec left glitterbot: make it count, big finish

"Oh fuck," you moan out, Bakugo's voice coming out of your mouth making your head spin out of control. Your voice crescendos through the speaker and office door in surround sound, causing your own orgasm to come crashing down over you. Warm ropes of cum cover your fingers, dripping down to his thighs and sprayed across his lower stomach. Looking down and seeing such a lewd scene on Bakugo's body makes you dizzy, the afterglow of what you did almost enough to knock you out cold.

Goal Met - $15k reached! Congratulations!!! tapespider87: wow, what a photo finish! zaptastic007: see? us pervs can band together for a good cause fiveweenies: fabulous show as always pretty girl

The scene fades to the 'the stream has ended' overlay, successfully ending the video feed to prepare for the next girl's broadcast.

NOTIFICATION - GLITTERGIRLS: YOUR STREAM HAS ENDED!

Exhausted, you close your eyes for a moment, letting your phone drop on to the coffee table and draping a forearm over your face. By the time you open your eyes again, you're suddenly in the office.

The body swap quirk effects must've expired, all of the adrenaline rushing through your systems working it out twice as fast. It's not long before heavy steps approach the office, a surprisingly gentle knock rapping on the door.

"Oi, let me in."

It's a command shadowed in sincerity, something you don't experience often with Bakugo, but welcome with open arms.

"It's open."

It feels like ages, but the door eventually opens, revealing your boss in the doorway, clothes disheveled and one dried stain on the edge of his shirt. The two of you stay silent, daring one another to be the first to break it.

One things for certain...things will never be the same between you two.

— tags: @slayfics @maddietries @starsdesiresz @liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki @purplescorpi0 @m0nnypie @d1orhaz3 @runrabbitrun3 @thefirst-ofus @kalulakunundrum @fulltragedytheroist @elleoelliot @katsucookies @kirishimaeijiromyman @strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87 @unriding @darhinadadragon @pastelle-rabbit @cutiepatoodie @moonlightwriter @katsuslover @rienin @amayaaaxx @Sukunabish @OzDramaQueen @uekarashi @jlynns-posts

Sit there and look pretty.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader

────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

Katsuki always tells you ‘sit there and look pretty.’ He doesn’t mean it in a petty way he genuinely means it. He wants you to sit down and be your pretty self, when he says it it’s usually regarding something he’s doing. Pretty much telling you to watch him, That or he wants to do something for you.

One of his love languages is acts of service so just let him do what he does best.

From ordering food to making the bed he tells you

“just sit there and look pretty mama I’ll do it.”

And You’d be stupid if you didn’t listen to him.

Explosions in the Rain - K. Bakugo

When you were four years old, you were physically Katsuki Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

Your Quirk was Precipitation, which allowed you to control and manipulate water, but specifically water from the atmosphere or the air around you, such as the rain. For as long as you could remember, whenever Bakugo created those annoyingly loud and intrusive explosions of his, you would also gather the water particles in the air around you and drop water at his hands to stop the explosion. You effortlessly pissed him off to no end, especially when you would always stop him from bullying Izuku.

He hated it; how you got so used to stopping him from creating his explosions to the point where you could even predict when, where, and how he was going to use them. You read him like a book, and he despised it. He despised how well you knew him, despised how perceptive you were despite only being four and the same age as him, and despised how you made him feel weak.

When you were twelve years old, you were mentally Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

It’s already been established for the past eight years that you had grown completely and utterly familiar with Bakugo and his Quirk. But twelve was a difficult age for everyone; most people were entering puberty, it was the time of inexperienced preteens doing things that they will regret later in life, and most people began to understand their crushes.

Bakugo wasn’t most people. When his heart raced whenever you spoke or bickered with him, he assumed that he was just getting adrenaline from “winning” the argument (he usually always lost in the end). Whenever his face reddened when you accidentally brushed his hand or touched him, he just assumed that he was angry. Whenever you defended Izuku from Bakugo, he always assumed that he was pissed because of the sole fact that you were defending Deku of all people.

When you were sixteen years old, you were supposedly Bakugo’s greatest pain in the ass.

You were both first years at UA, and despite your constant arguing, name calling, and childlike behavior with each other, everyone always assumed at first meeting that you were both dating but just had particularly strange ways of showing affection. They had even spread rumors that you were both dating--although you were both used to it, as the same thing used to happen in middle school.

You both denied those rumors, although deep inside of Bakugo’s heart, he did want those rumors to be true. However, even with the knowledge from the both of you that the rumors were false, most people still assumed that you were both in love. After all, you both always looked for each other during a villain attack and stuck to each other’s side. No one will ever forget just how fragmented your mental state was when Bakugo was kidnapped by the League of Villains, and how you cried when you and a few others managed to get him back.

When you were seventeen, Bakugo realized that you were never his greatest pain in the ass, but his greatest soft spot and weakness.

How absolutely heartwrenching your scream was when he basically died. How he felt his soul leave his body when you saw you bloody and unconscious. How he held you close when the war ended and you both narrowly survived.

And finally, finally, he realized that all this time, he never despised the feelings you gave him. He adored it, and he began to relish in it. The red on his cheeks and how you held his heart in your hands and never once dropped it. How he loved you.

When you were twenty-two years old, you truly became Bakugo’s greatest weakness.

Or perhaps we should change how we address him to Katsuki, as Bakugo is now also your last name.

The cold golden ring against your finger was a small yet impactful sensation, enough to make you tear up. You’ve always dreamed of this day, of getting married to the one you loved most. And standing right in front of you at the altar was your dearest Katsuki, who you refused to allow to wear makeup to cover up his scars. “Today, we are here to celebrate the knot of two wonderful young souls…” the priest began.

As the priest finished his long speech, Katsuki leaned in, and right before he kissed you, he muttered something. “You know, growing up, you were my biggest pain in the ass.”

“Same with you.” You murmured, chuckling breathily. His eyes softened before cupping your cheek with a calloused hand.

“I’ll love growing old with you just as much as I did growing up with you. I love you.”

He kissed you after those words, and finally, you eternally became Katsuki’s greatest weakness.

This was made on a whim, and this is also my first time ever writing for MHA…do tell me what you think of this lmao

COME BACK💔

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?

Bakugou had turned the damn house upside down three times.

“Where the hell is it?” He hissed under his breath, storming through the hallway closet for the third time in two days. He’d torn apart the shoe rack, the document folders, and even flipped through the cookbooks in the kitchen, just in case he’d used it as a bookmark. No dice. The damn passport was still missing.

His hair was sticking up more than usual—half from stress, half from the static of the hoodie he’d thrown on that morning in frustration. They were supposed to leave for Korea in three days. Three. It was the biggest pro-hero conference he’d ever been invited to—panel talks, interviews, awards. Best Jeanist, Lemillion, and even Halfie had their confirmations sent in already.

And what did he have?

An expired copy of his license (he got a new one; the expired one’s just in his drawer), a half-crushed protein bar, and a very pouty, very pregnant wife in the living room.

You had your feet up on the couch, ankles slightly swollen beneath the oversized hoodie you’d stolen from his wardrobe. You were scrolling on your phone with one hand, the other resting on your baby bump, lazily tracing circles. When Bakugou stomped past, you looked up with the slow blink of a cat.

“Still lost?” you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement. Even laughed under your breath.

The audacity, he thinks, though it wasn’t frustration. He could never be mad at you.

Because he knows you’ll get mad at him, too.

Bakugou didn’t answer. He grunted instead, pulling out another drawer in the cabinet near the TV.

“Maybe it grew legs and walked off,” you teased. “Or maybe your big fat ego swallowed it.”

He shot you a look. “Not helping.”

You hummed. “Not trying to.”

Your pout had gotten more dramatic since hitting six months. Bakugou noticed it more these days, how you’d stare down your food like it personally offended you, or how you’d sigh theatrically every time the topic of even him leaving the house came up. At first, you’d been supportive—even joked that you’d video call him during the conference and heckle him from the screen. But once you found out the biggest day of the event landed on your wedding anniversary, the whole game changed.

Suddenly he feels like he’s on house arrest.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” you murmured, taking a sip of the juice he made you this morning. “Maybe you’re meant to stay home this time.”

Bakugou scoffed. As if.

“Ain’t no damn sign. It’s just misplacin’ shit.”

“You don’t have to go,” you said again. “You could stay. Cuddle me. Eat cake. Listen to me cry about clouds.”

“You said I could go if I find my passport,” he pouts, brows furrowed, and his lips jutted slightly.

“I did, and don’t be mad,” you replied. “I want you to go. Really. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Then why do you look like you wanna punch me in the throat?”

You blinked at him. “Because it’s our anniversary and I’m hormonal. Sue me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So I hope you don’t find it.”

That was the end of that conversation.

-

The night before their anniversary came sooner than expected.

Bakugou had made a reservation at one of the nicest rooftop restaurants in the city. Private booth, soft fairy lights, cityscape twinkling behind them. The host even laid a small bouquet of lavender on the table when he told them it was for a special occasion. He hadn’t told you where you were going, only grunted, “Wear that dress you like—that comfy one. You know the one.”

He hadn’t mentioned anything new about the passport ordeal. You, who figured he’d either given up or accepted fate, were mostly content to enjoy the evening.

You looked like a dream, so his focus was entirely on you. Someone who he somehow managed to have (maybe his bond with his guardian angels came in clutch and even contacted Cupid himself to arrange an arrow for you two).

You waddled into the restaurant, cheeks a little fuller, eyes glowing. He still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got so lucky. He thinks it makes you shy, how intense his gaze got, even after everything—the morning sickness, the mood swings, the late-night hospital runs due to paranoia.

“You okay?” he asked, placing a hand on your lower back as you walked in.

“Mm,” you hummed, leaning into his touch. You could barely hide your smile at this point. “You’re staring.”

He didn’t even deny it. “I am? So what? Can’t a man just appreciate his wife?”

Dinner went well, for the most part.

You had one hand on your belly, the other wrapped around his fingers on the table. You were halfway through your chocolate mousse when Bakugou reached into his jacket pocket and slid something across the table.

“No,” you said slowly, setting your spoon down. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

He didn’t look smug at all, more like... hopeful.

Your brows furrowed. You reached for the passport, flipping it open.

There it was. His damn passport. Found. Intact. Stamped. His most recent picture was taken only a few months ago.

Yoh stared at it. Then at you. Then back at it again.

“…You found it?”

“Yup.”

“Where was it?”

He cleared his throat, gaze shifting to the side.

“…Behind the dresser in the guest room. Stuffed in that red envelope labeled ‘Important Shit,’ which you labeled in your handwriting, by the way.”

You paused. Your cheeks puffed again as your lips turned downward in the softest pout he’d ever seen. You looked down at your half-eaten dessert, spoon idle.

“You’re really gonna go?”

“I want to,” he admitted. “But I don’t wanna leave you pissed off and lonely, either.”

You didn’t say anything at first. Just poked at your mousse with your spoon. Your lashes were low, and he could tell you were struggling. Not angry, just…sad.

Finally, you said, “It’s just one. It’s just one anniversary. We’ll have dozens more, right?”

“We will. We’ll have centuries more.”

“…And you’ll video call me. Every day.”

“Morning and night.”

“And text me when you land. And when you eat. And when you leave the venue. And—”

Bakugou reached across the table and tugged gently at your hand. His hands are rough against yours, but they’re filled with sincerity and utmost love that a man could give to his wife.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

His voice softened.

“Seriously, d’ya think I’d leave you without a plan?”

You blinked.

“I’m leavin’ you flowers and your cake. I told Kirishima to drop off that spa basket thing you said you wanted last month. And your mom’s stayin’ over the night of. I made sure. I even stocked the fridge.”

Your mouth parted slightly, tilting your head to the side. “You…did all that?”

“Yeah.” He looked almost bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t want you to think I forgot. Even if I ain’t here physically. I’m still here.”

Your eyes shimmered just a bit. A good sign, Bakugou notes.

Then you smiled—soft and tired and affectionate.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“Tch. Don’t cry. I’ll look like an asshole.”

You laughed then, nose crinkling. “You are an asshole. But a sweet one.”

“Yeah, you love me.”

“I do.”

You two didn’t talk about the passport again that night. Not after that.

Instead, you finished dessert. Slowly. Your hand stayed in his the whole time.

When you walked out of the restaurant, he kept his arm around your shoulders, guiding you carefully down the steps like you were made of glass. You leaned into him, soft and warm, your belly pressing into his side.

And when they got home, you told him, “Let’s open the anniversary cake early.”

He didn’t say no. Not when you looked that happy. It doesn’t matter that he’s already full from the chocolate mousse you two had earlier.

When night finally settled, and Bakugou’s wiping the excess frosting off the corners of your lips with a napkin, he hears you say, “Come home soon, okay?”

He nodded, then softly kissed the crown of your head.

“Always.”

Always come home to you.

-

The morning of Bakugou’s flight started earlier than usual.

He had been up before the alarm even went off, brushing his teeth with the kind of intensity that only came from years of military-grade discipline… or nerves (also because he wants all bad germs on his mouth to die). Not that he’d ever admit to the latter. He stood in front of the mirror, towel slung low on his hips, steam curling from the hot shower as he stared at his reflection.

This was it. The day he was supposed to fly out to Korea.

Except—he wasn’t going.

Not really.

He’d made his decision last night, somewhere between the weight of your hug and the feel of your heartbeat against his body when you fell asleep on his chest. The moment you started snoring softly, your nose slightly buried in his shirt, he realized there was no way in hell he was getting on that plane.

Not this time.

But you didn’t need to know that just yet.

Because if there was one thing Bakugou knew about his wife, it was that you’d throw a fit if he skipped a life-changing professional opportunity just to spend your anniversary folding baby laundry and rubbing your swollen ankles. Plus, he knew you’d never allow him to stay. And if you knew he was lying about leaving, you’d huff and puff until he actually made him go.

So, he planned ahead. Like a goddamn mastermind.

By the time you woke up—slightly groggy with pillow lines on your cheek—he had already “packed.” His suitcase was zipped shut and positioned neatly by the door. His travel duffle bag sat upright next to it. His travel documents were tucked inside an envelope labeled “Do Not Open Unless Emergency.” (Totally blank inside.)

You blinked at him sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you waddled into the living room in his oversized T-shirt. One of the many shirts he was sure was missing from his closet.

“You already packed?” you murmured, voice small and pouty.

He turned from the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. Acting too nonchalant to not give anything away.

“Yeah,” he said. “Didn’t wanna rush.”

You crossed your arms over your bump. “It’s only a three-hour flight, Katsuki. Not an expedition to the Arctic.”

“Still gotta prep,” he said, biting back a grin.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, but the smell of something sweet distracted you. Bingo.

He stepped aside, revealing a neatly arranged dessert box sitting on the counter. Inside: four of your favorites—strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream, a slice of creamy Basque burnt cheesecake, a generous portion of tiramisu, and your current obsession: mango sticky rice.

“You bought me desserts?” you awed.

“I bought you a stack,” he corrected. “Don’t think I don’t know you get all sad and start craving sugar when I leave.”

You scoffed. “I do not.”

“You do,” he said, crossing his arms smugly. “You pouted so hard last time I left, I came back to find the fridge empty and you passed out with a half-eaten ice cream tub on the couch.”

“That was one time!”

“And I’m not takin’ chances.”

He bent forward, pressed a kiss to your cheek, then to your rounded belly. “Eat well. Don’t lift anything heavy. Text me when you’re sleepy. I’ll land by lunch. Kirishima’s already on the way, but it’ll take a while because of traffic since the bridge is getting repaired.”

“You’re acting suspicious,” you said, frowning as you clung to his shirt. “You never say goodbye this… nicely.”

“That’s rude,” he muttered. “I’m always nice.”

“No, you’re normally grumpy and say something like, ‘Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.’”

He smirked. You weren’t wrong entirely.

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna come back to find out you’ve cried over an empty dessert box.”

Your lip wobbled, and he kissed you again—softly this time, with an extra squeeze to your waist.

“I’ll be back before you know it. It’s just for two nights.”

-

He left around nine. Or at least, pretended to.

Instead of heading to the airport, he drove straight to his agency, parked in the underground garage, and holed up in his office. There was a bottle of juice in the mini fridge, emergency snacks in the bottom drawer, and an absurd number of congratulatory emails flooding his inbox that he ignored.

The hours ticked by slowly.

He checked his phone a dozen times. No calls. No texts. Just one blurry photo from you of the dessert box with the caption: You’re lucky I’m in a sugar coma right now. Or I’d be mad you left without triple kissing me goodbye.

He snorted.

Around lunchtime, he got restless. Then irritated.

Then, at exactly 1:00 P.M., he got in the car and drove home.

No warning.

No heads-up.

He half-expected you to be lounging in the living room, watching drama reruns and fanning yourself while complaining about heartburn. But when he pulled up the driveway and unlocked the front door—

The house was suspiciously quiet.

His brows pulled together.

“[Name]?” he called out, stepping in.

Nothing.

He frowned and shut the door behind him, stepping out of his boots. He heard a thud from the back hallway. Then a low grunt. A shuffle.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he heard you muttering.

“Come on, come on, I’m not that heavy—”

He rounded the corner—and stopped cold.

There you were.

Standing in the hallway. Sweaty. Red-faced. Holding a large box half your size with both hands, your bump barely giving you enough room to balance it. Your lip was caught between your teeth as you struggled to carry what was definitely one of the boxes he had explicitly labeled: Do Not Touch.

“…What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You screamed.

You literally screamed—jumping nearly out of your skin, eyes wide like you saw a ghost.

Or a burglar.

Or both, at this point.

“—Katsuki! I thought you were in Korea—what the hell—”

“Put the box down.”

“You can’t just walk in like that, I thought—I—”

“Put it down, [Name].”

You dropped it with a loud thunk, wobbling backward and grabbing your shoulders.

“Oh my god, I thought you were a home invader! I was ready to throw a candle at you—why are you back?!”

Bakugou marched toward you, still wide-eyed with a mixture of rage and pure panic. He can’t believe this at all. “More importantly, why the fuck are you lifting boxes?!”

“I was bored!”

“Bored? So you decided to tear a disc and pop a blood vessel?!”

“I didn’t tear anything! And it wasn’t heavy; it’s mostly baby blankets!”

He crouched down instantly to pick it up—still heavy, despite your excuses—and carried it to the nursery, grumbling the entire way. “Goddamn woman’s gonna give me a stroke,” he muttered, though there was never any heat in his words.

You waddled after him, still stunned.

“Wait. Why are you here?!”

“I never left.”

“You… what?”

“I stayed at the agency. Figured I’d come back after you thought I was gone. Catch you red-handed.”

“You liar!”

He turned toward you, his frustration subsiding.

“You’re not even a good liar! You went full fake goodbye mode this morning! You even left me mango sticky rice!”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I knew you’d snoop around and start being reckless the second you thought no one was watching.”

Your cheeks puffed up again. That damn pout.

“I was just nesting,” you mumbled.

“Nesting doesn’t involve deadlifting half a closet,” he shot back. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

“…I thought you were in Korea.”

“Yeah, well, again, surprise.”

You blinked up at him again, eyes soft now, overwhelmed. “…You really stayed just for me?”

When he sets the boxes down, he exhaled and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. “You really thought I’d leave you alone on our anniversary? Pregnant? Carrying boxes? Eating dessert by yourself? What do you take me for? A shitty husband?”

You hit his chest weakly.

“You’re so unfair,” you muttered.

“I know,” he grinned. “And I love you.”

You melted then. Completely.

Wrapping your arms around him, your bump pressing into his stomach, you buried your face in his chest and whispered: “I love you too, you dramatic maniac.”

That night, there was no flight. No press. No conference.

Just takeout on the couch, your feet in his lap, mango sticky rice on your plate, and his hand splayed across your belly like a homecoming gift.

Bakugou may have missed a headline.

But he made the right choice.

And that mattered more.

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