One

𑊡˚+₊🌑✦ — tired + bkg; one shot

cw: nsfw, aged up, fluff, established relationship, unprotected sex, afab! reader, softdom! bkg!

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

you loved when it was like this. when your boyfriend’s features settled into stoicism. how easy and relaxed the expression was for him in whole naturalness. so sharp his jaw, so plush his lips, so hooded his eyes. all things always so handsome but today just that little bit more as it scrapes at you.

his pretty tanned skin of hands coupling with your own while you amble your way down toward your cabin, it actually being separated into duos of exclusive genders but you switched that around easily with the requesting of wingman kirishima.

your conversation is not hinting at anything lewd just yet. the little things he did though, walking on the curbside, squeezing your hand when you almost jaywalked, or thumbing your hair behind your ear when the wind was a little meaner, these little things hummed want in your femininity and pulsed arousal throughout, fuelling for later.

bakugo was the one to suggest ‘switching rooms n fucking’ after hours and lets his heart flutter and swell at the thought. your excitement to the proposal so genuine it makes his organ cramp at its newfound fatness. so tired was he growing from how heavy it was heaving his chest lower, it being so heavy that it actually lugs his head down to pull your held hand up to his lips and kiss it lovingly. you giggle and the breath from your nose stutters, “what?” he kisses again. twice. thrice. not lifting his head up till he’s done.

“just thinkin’ bout later,” he circles loops around your hand while he speaks. “me too,” you sweetly say.

he softly presses a kiss behind your ear as you continue your saunter, whispering in oh so lustful ways, “excited?” your smile grows so big and your eyes crease as you hide your felicity in the brawn of his shoulders, it’s almost girlish how flustered you act.

"hmm?" he teases, ducking his head down so his voice tunnels in your ear, fingering sweeps of hair away from the form of your face. “what do you wanna do when we get there, naughty girl?" he tickles with his index your neck and then cheek, the little plumpness of it he can reach at this angle as you simper and laugh pushing your face deeper into his chest.

you finally raise your head up, your hair following the movement swiftly in an animated bounce as you glee a "so much," tiptoeing up so poised and dainty when you reach to kiss him in earnest, "i wanna do so much with you, baby."

this frustrates his dick. makes him wanna plough into you so bad and show you off to the world, to the other students on the trip wishing they were you and him. fucking so recklessly that you’d only hope to find climax in the mess of it, but you both liked it that way. wet, and sloppy, and wild. these were the elements in the potency of your sex. ‘our sex.’

he prevails in composure, thanking his earlier self that he wore a hoodie big enough to shadow his boner. still clasping your hand as you reach the cabin, the solid oakiness of it, he fiddles with the keys and smoothly opens the door to succumb to the warmth inside.

you’d already homed yourself in the newer cabin. trails of kirishima, the now ex-roommate, practically evaporated with the replacements of colognes with perfumes and shorts with skirts. it was only meant to be a sleepover nothing longer than that, but maybe the feeling of you would extend that.

bouncing down onto the couch, hand still entwined in yours so that you bounce down with him, bakugo grabs the remote and flicks to netflix.

“she’s the man?” you nestle into his side and yawn, snuggling into the cotton of his outerwear and breathing in the sandalwood of his cologne. your pretty voice lulls into something warm as it hushes itself to sleep, to signal to her boyfriend that you were dozing off soon, “mm, your pick..”

he kisses at your head. twice. thrice, and paws at it softly, making his voice gentler as he speaks, noticing your impending slumber, “i’ll wake you up, make sure you don’t sleep too long.”

“promise?”

he knuckles your chin up with slowness and lets his head touch yours, “baby, i promise you, believe me.” he winks at the end of his sentiment to which you half-heartedly chuckle, not because of the lack of humour but your contract to fatigue. he presses his lips into yours firmly and lets you drift off into dreamland.

✦ ✦ ✦

the tv is buzzing the credits to the terminator when sunset is falling into nightfall and bakugo is motherly weaning you out of sleep as the feeling of him clawing your hair like once before becomes conscious to you; your sleepiness eases out. he hushes your name and drawls for you to “wake upp,” to which you softly groan and moan and shift your body at. he chuckles at this gesture and swoops you up bridal style, walks over to the bathroom, and cracks the door open.

he coos at you, lets your feet touch the cold tiled ground, and plays puppeteer with your face, talking to you through the mirror, “wake up, pretty girl,” you smile tiredly and he kisses your cheek, “there you are…” he taps at the sink with his palm, “alright come on, get changed into something more comfortable,” and sculpting his hand around the dip of your waist as he leaves.

your mascara is smeared, makes you look like you had the party of your life, and it kinda minxes you up, all soft and jaded and flirty. katsuki loved your makeup when it was like this, and you did too. it was so...lived in.

but despite your elevated self-confidence, you were still so tired. you wanted nothing more than to rest your heavy head against that familiar sandalwood smell and your massive six-foot, blonde haired, feat.

you waddle down toward the edge of the bathtub, vertigo slightly attacking in the residual sleep, and pout from the tension in your expression, face desperate to squeeze out any light that abrupts you to wake. he walks in, and speaks:

"still tired?" you nod uncontrolled. your head's weight feels more intense in this state so when you do nod it's more of a harsh jouncing.

he kneels down in front of you. tight, black tank top stretching and creasing in accordance with the movement and he looks you in the eye, trying not to get turned on by how hot you look-- you look absolutely perfect like this. he has to hold out though, save and stuff this feeling in his back pocket so he can focus on you now.

you smile and he looks away, as if to think, then asks, "where's your pjs n underwear stuff at?"

you breathe out your nose harsher to indicate your amusement at the, though serious, question. you point toward your dresser, "third drawer," he gets up.

"alright," eyes searching for the underwear two-piece, "okay, got one." and he moves back to you.

"no, no, not that one," you shake, "get the one that's fully black."

his brows furrow and he walks back to the aforementioned dresser, eyes searching like before, lips mouthing the word 'black' repeatedly as he sorts through the clothes.

smiling at this struggle, you attempt to ease his struggle with the mention, "it's the one i wore when we had sex on halloween."

"ohhh!!" his expression wide, "awh yeah, you look so fuckin' sexy in that one." and he finds it almost immediately with that reminder, like you knew he would.

the tone of his skin shifts in the white of the bathroom when he reenters. "arms up."

you comply, stretching the appendages up, still tiredly but less so now.

he strips you of your tee, your bra. smiling knowingly when he gets to your plushness, hair so elegantly masking half your nipple. you notice his naughty smile and lean forward so they touch him, him only blushing in response and kissing the dip between your paired clavicles before his mouth gapes a little as he drops to focus on the hook at the back when he slips the inky fabric on you.

you can't calm the spur in you, how attentive he's being right now is the sexiest you've ever seen of him, you can't calm this gracing, begging spur. slowly, you wrap your calves around his lower back, dipping down to kiss him, and he was definitely expectant of this with how smooth his lips meld with yours, the way they press into each other and keep pressing into each other as he grasps at the bathtub's edges, accepting this kiss so eagerly.

you hum and break away from this passion, feet rubbing up and down so intimately it's burning bakugo and he's frozen in this want. you grab his bathtub-clasped hands and bring them up to the clasps of your bralette, "still need your help, suki." it's incredulous to anyone how he hasn't fucked you right then and there. but he complies, prevails in composure once again and bows up your back, fitting his hands at the curve of your waist. "you kill me." the scene is so wanton, how swooned he is with you, head up, how aware you are of this, head down.

you get up, using his shoulder as support and pull your underwear down, pressing down to just the grazing of your feet so your pussy is exposed so graciously in the leaning gravity of your equally black nightdress.

you turn around and grab at your thong without a word, katsuki so fucked out mentally he can't even speak, and hop into the holes of your said underwear pulling them up swiftly and leaving to the living room to tug your dark socks off; balled neatness, just to save time.

he's doing so well. so well in his control. control of not treating you the way you deserve and the way he knows you want. quickly following your footsteps, he folds his arms as he watches you finally strip the sock off.

balancing on the ball of your foot as you stand, you smile, wondering why, though you knew, your boyfriend was staring so hungrily at you.

"what?" you drawl, squeezing at his now bigger forearm. he huffs and and brings his bottom lip in to gnaw at, just in pure suppressed excitement of what's to come.

"you tell me." you're now weaving your arm into his.

"i don't know whatchur talkin' about." you like playing it coy, always means for a rougher fuck later.

"i'll let you know in a bit," the two of you bimbling to the swallowing sofa, sound of footsteps softening once you're on the fluffy carpet of the living room rug.

you bounce down together like before, gravity humouring the two of you with the flash of wind it hits as you sink in. smiling awkwardly in an intended manner, you lie on bakugo’s lap, so much flesh and muscle cushioning your head. you trail with the very tip of your nails so sensually up and down his arm in this purposeful and distracting way while you ask him about the movie, edging him to talk about it, he knows that this is just a ploy to build tension to what was coming; a little subversion in conversation as if you weren’t going to fuck less than a few minutes ago.

“ahh, the movie…” he sighs deeply, looking up in genuine awe, “so good, i want you to watch it with me,”

“i will i will,” you hum, still clawing at his thick, veined forearm, upside down eyes so bright.

he knuckles down your nose, emulating the up-down oscillation you’re practicing on him. “you will, yeah? then why’d you fall asleep?”

“cuz i was tireddd,” you giggle, squint in your eyes as you do so.

he pinches your nose with the fat folds of his fingers: gentle—sweeps your eyebrow hairs up with his thumb and gets so close to your mouth, almost speaking the words into you, “you tired now?”

you prop yourself up with the underarms of your skin, narrowing the gap till it almost disappears, only almost so you can speak and have the final words, “let’s see…”

lips meeting and familiarising with each other again. soft movement after movement, gentle grab of plumpness again and again. you feel your lips dancing with each other, it’s so melodious.

he cups his hand into the bundle of hair by your base, hugging them with his fingers and you move yourself correspondingly to a more easy position, letting go of each other’s lips briefly so you can latch and bite at his neck while he brings your hips to connect with own. bone and bone bumping into each the best way possible. flesh sticky with sweat as your dress rides up and pools in a droop by your lower stomach, pulling up and down each time you’d grind yourself against bakugo’s hips.

your head is left empty of the greatness of his hand and felt on the trail of your sides, moving upwards as cooler air nibbles at you when you’re freed in just the charcoal of your top, the feeling being slowly inverted with the skimp of your thong, now freer in just the charcoal of your closeness to each other’s shadow. you bring his hands up to the hook if you bra life before. left. right. and bakugo complies, whispering in pretty husks, “fuck…” “baby— fuck,” and pulling at the backside hem of his shirt, almost dry fucking you when he’s clean of clothing, bare in just his loungewear shorts, tight around the width of his thighs.

“been lookin’ forward to this all day,” he breathes heavy at the end, flustering at the pent up desire he’s had for right now.

“take your shorts off,” you’re voice is buried in the reddening pink you’re causing to his neck, “now, please,” you whine with another pop of lips.

conjoined: shorts and underwear come off ruggedly, a little wiggle and raise of your hips helping the process and dick hits up, precum shining in the white of the room and dripping down, as if an artist were showcasing their piece. it’s so proposed.

his hands act of their own, one squeezing and playing at the fat of your hips, rubbing up and down while his dominant starts molding around his length, slow tugs at first but stronger and whinier as he continues. it’s so good. paint splatters of love all across his neck and now trapezius. you kiss up to the angle of his jawline and by the backbone of his ear, slaying his throat with the warmth, both physical and sensual, of your dulcet voice. nourishing and kind yet wanting and clear, “can i help?” your hand already on top of his and soon domineering and replacing it.

the softer, more feminine clasp of your hand killed him. it fired through his hand and bored into the protecting of his rib cage, so close to the surface of his skin the heat was unbelievable. he picks you and presses you firmly down around him. both your voices eager to display passion. so much relief purred out from his throat that you thought he had came right then and he nearly did. “yes you can, baby,” he jounces you up and down so roughly repeating again, this time more strained, “yes you can,”

you moan and relish in the ploughing he takes into you. his dick tarnishing any emptiness you had inside you and slicking up against those velvety walls of yours. oh, those pretty fleshy walls of yours that were so spongy and welcoming to him. over and over, your moans only getting higher and longer as sweaty skin claps against skin, does he imbed himself deeper and deeper, his moans and profanities getting messier and meaner,

“you fuckin slut, teasing me all fucking day and now look at you, baby. can’t even fucking speak you’re so full.”

your head lulls down, heavy like a baby when you’re too out of your mind from the pleasure of his length, lips twinkling from the jewelling and swelling of saliva at the inner pink of them, only hushed out ‘mmms’ sounding from those wet lips.

he grabs your face with his hand looping under your knee so that his arm was now bobbing you, clutched hand pressing into the hollows of your cheeks to pull you up to look at him, “baby, i’m talking to you,” he coos, malicious in a way but vehement in another.

“mm, making me feel so good suki— legs are fucking numb from how big you are..” you whine out with a little lisp from his still constant grabbing, it’s making you fall so dangerously in love with him.

he pulls your face to his and sucks in to kiss, all sloppy from your bubbled saliva and his stroked ego. tongues so perfect against each other and closer they come when he bounces you up to readjust and bring you in.

you start whining more, higher and more desperate, “what is it, baby?” his voice sarcastically rolls.

all you can do is drop your jaw, too high on pleasure to even put the effort into kissing him, and he knows this, pulls at your jaw up and down like playing puppeteer and speaking for you.

he groans and adjusts again to hit farther in, your heart almost exploding at this and this hasn’t gone unnoticed. what with the way he immediately and smartly tilts away from g-spot heaven, “no no,” you plea.

he grins so smugly, his canines looking like fangs and only turning you destitute of anything but him: the one thing you lusted so greatly for right now. he closes your jaw up with his finger, hearing the little clank of your teeth, “no what, baby? don’t think i understand.” he feigns ignorance.

your swung arms around his neck are your only stability as your pry and sway yourself into him more, if that’s even possible with the way your clutching to him, “katsuki,” his ears prick up at this, movement slightly stutters at the increased hardness of his dick. “again. mm, fuck me like that again,” and he can’t. he literally can’t not obey you.

so instantly he peruses himself to that same recorded angle like before and thrusts and hits and ploughs into you like there’s no tomorrow, reaching climax and taking you there with him, the skin-on-skin sounds only loudens and loudens and loudens till it plateaus with the peak and fall of your matched voices, slowly does the noise cease, till it bothers no more.

you nuzzle into his neck with your nose, so tired and sweaty, and kiss at the foul bruises you’ve caused him, ringing them with your finger, “fuck me like that again and you’ve got a wife,” you tap at the love mark quickly at the end of your sentence and turn to look him in the eyes with a pleased smile.

bakugo smilies back at you and points toward a clock, “see that clock?”

you nod.

“five minutes and i’m cumming in you again.” to which you can only shy away from and squeeze your lower muscles around his still deep inside you dick, him jolting at the action.

“watch yourself.”

you kiss him bravely, lips so used to each other, “nope.” you sweetly cradling yourself back to sleep feeling the rise of bakugo’s chest as chuckles at the notion, shutting his eyes as well, still locked in you.

“watch yourself.”

you kiss him bravely, lips so used to each other, “nope.” you sweetly cradling yourself back to sleep feeling the rise of kirishima’s chest as chuckles at the notion, shutting his eyes as well, still locked in you.

Get down on it

What’s your favourite fairly accurate science film

bakugo fluff to heal the soul!

bakugo katsuki was fuming in his seat.

it’s not necessarily strange for him to be doing so, but normally it was due to the antics of kirishima and kaminari that gets him all riled up. this time though? it was you.

it all started the moment you stepped foot into the classroom because as soon as mina noticed you, she was already shouting her heart out at this hour of the morning (not that the time mattered much to bakugo because he wanted her to shut up at all times of the day).

but it was what she said that ticked him off even more.

“y/n! you’ve got an admirer!”

bakugo katsuki had to watch in slow-fucking-motion how your face lit up in a (beautiful) smile that almost had his anger raging as wildly as his explosions because it wasn’t him that was making you smile like that.

it wasn’t his love letter that had you giggling and flustered, it wasn’t his bouquet of flowers that you were fawning over and it wasn’t his box of sweets that you were admiring. only he had the right to make you feel like that. 

bakugo is brought out of his misery with the familiar voice of a certain red-haired. “oi! thought you’d never confess to y/n, finally grew a pair?” kirishima asked, bending down to match the blond’s seated position. 

bakugo scowls harder as he gruffly murmured, “that wasn’t me.”

“oh man! really?” kirishima looked back at your desk, noticing the gentle way that you were handling the gifts, setting them down on the floor beside you. “i guess y/n is popular, better shoot your shot before it’s too late.”

small explosions spark from bakugo’s palms as he screams, “i know, dumbass!” 

for the rest of school he had to witness the dazed, delicate expression you wore, paired with a gentle smile that never seemed to fade from your lips the whole day. he even found you fiddling with the card you received, reading it over for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. 

bakugo could write a better one. 

and if that wasn’t enough, he had to watch the way you held the gifts closely in your arms, cradled protectively to your chest as you tried to preserve their sacredness, hearing about how you were going to ‘put the flowers on my windowsill. they’ll be so pretty!’. 

he was going to blast those stupid floras into pieces, not understanding why you were feeling so special over some stupid extra’s ‘chivalrous’ actions because you deserved far better.

and you better fucking believe that he could make you smile wider than anyone else 

that’s what he did, knocking on your door ferociously the next day, bakugo katsuki was holding an even bigger bouquet of arranged flowers, far more grand than the small one you received yesterday, as well as some of your favourite pastries from the local bakery that you always took him to. and as a card? well, it was him. did you need any more? 

was his heart racing because of nerves or because of spite? he didn’t know.

“coming!” your voice comes from the other side of the door and sure enough, the telltale sign of a door unlocking reaches bakugo’s ears. you greet him with a smile, “oh, hey! bakugo- whoa, that is a big bouquet of flowers.”

“‘s for you,” he grumbles, unable to look away from your expression, gauging for a reaction. you’re silent for a moment before pointing at yourself. 

a weak ‘me?’ slips past your mouth.

“who else, dumbass? you’re the only one worthy of fuckin’ flowers.”

he dumps them in your arms and you gape at him. “wait- was it you that gave me-”

“nope, but you best believe i outdid them.”

you laugh, a sound that bakugo has grown to cherish over the time you’ve spent together. with a softer, adoring look in your eyes, bakugo thinks he’s reached the peak of life as you meet his gaze. “thank you, bakugo,” you say quietly but there’s something in your voice that tells him that you’re trying to keep your giddiness on the low. he can tell in the way that you marvel at the flowers with a wondrous expression, holding them to your heart.

he scoffs, not in a dismissive way, but in a manner of content.

“oi, i’m takin’ you out tomorrow night, on a date.” bakugo tells you and your chest flutters in the way that it always does when you’re around him. “you’re always pretty so i don’t need to tell you this, but dress nice.”

you beam at him and his heart stutters, “‘kay, only for you though.”

“don’t say shit like that!” the blush on bakugo’s face tells you enough as he stomps away.

he’s happy when you send him a picture of his flowers that sit pretty on your windowsill.

we need these everywhere

UC or ER?

when you know exactly how you want a scene to go but as soon as you sit down to write it you are suddenly staring at some of the worst sentences mankind has ever strung together.

omfg yes yes and yes and also he pretends not to be sad realllyyyy really hard but sometimes its just too much and when yall first moved in together (!!) and he was crying in the bathroom hiding you went in and kissed his forehead (gojo melt moment) and held him and sat on the cold tile cradling his head and didnt say anything sarcastic or stupid or anything actually and just sat w him until he started talking to you abt his feelings

AND he was so embarrassed afterwards he tried to make it up to you and apologize for wasting your time and you smacked him in the face (!!!!) and scolded him for thinking that way and he felt SO LOVED 🥰

i feel like gojo would be in a ‘hot chocolate x green tea’ relationship.. his partner is very funny but more of the sarcastic humor and he pretends to be offended but he never actually is. his partner is his sense and is the person who tells him to stop eating so many sweets and maybe get in some protein, makes sure that he sleeps well and tells him not to take missions when he’s sleepy. and when they do all this he wants to cry because he never got that time when he was babies becs he had to grow up so quickly. his partner his this older , mature energy about them and it makes him feel so different- not like he has to impress anyone or have anybody’s back. because hes finally being taken care of with no strings attached, and it feels so good to him. OH LETS NOT FORGET HOW HE WILL BE THE KINDEST PERSON EVEN TO HIS PARTNER!! because they’ve done all this for him and he wants to now buy you the entire earth or say the most disgustingly kind things to you.

like if you so much as tell him to have a good day , to be careful and that you love him he stops dead in his tracks and goes. , “thank you !! i love you more!! you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!! byebye yn!!” while he’s walking out , and his voice is getting farther and farther but he’s also getting louder because you MUST know how special you are. the good you’ve done. how much of a good person you are. you HAVE TO. and don’t get me started when you’re sad. because when he’s sad he doesn’t know how to express it properly so he makes these atrocious jokes that leave you so concerned, but you still comfort him anyway, and he loves you so much for it. so he’ll hug you a tight but doesn’t know what to say at all😭. so he’s holding you and rocking you side to side and just saying , “i’m here, it’s alright, i’m right here,” because that’s all he really knows how to do but he PRAYS that it’s enough for you because he will literally wither away if it isn’t. gojo n his more emotionally smart, mature but still chaotic partner </33

aND LASTLY. everyone hates when you two are together because it’s so chaotic , you can’t even get out a sentence because every word you seem to say has some kind of dumb ass inside joke or something. like you once read a book that mentioned a baseball bat being heavy and he was so distraught . he kept going ,” heavy????? 😏 baseball bat???????? 😏” and now whenever anyone brings it up or it’s on tv you both topple over laughing. megumi is done cus he thought you were supposed to be the mature one 😕😕😕💔💔

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.