Glad Jujutsu High Decided To Invest In An On-site Therapist

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ A SERENE CELEBRATION, MERRY CHRISTMAS

A younger Bakugou Katsuki had always been certain of his future. At 26, he’d be a man with it all: a nice house, a career as the undisputed Number One Hero, happily married, and maybe, just maybe, a little brat on the way. That was the dream his teenage self clung to—the vision he worked tirelessly to acheive.

At 26, Bakugou stood in the middle of your shared apartment, arms crossed and staring at the half-decorated Christmas tree with a deep scowl. Strings of golden lights glimmered around the tree’s branches, lengths of ribbons are accompanied by shimmering with faux flowers, and ornaments—carefully chosen by you—hung delicately in place.

The problem? The color scheme.

“What’s wrong with red and gold?”

“It’s boring,” Bakugou grumbled. “We do red and gold every year.”

“It’s classic!” you argued, turning to face him fully. “And it matches the rest of the apartment’s decor!”

He narrowed his eyes. He could not believe that he’s having this conversation with you right now.

“We could try something new for once. Like silver and blue.”

You gasped, clutching an ornament like he’d just insulted you personally—even cursed your entire bloodline and ancestors. “Silver and blue? Are you trying to make our tree look like a corporate lobby?”

“It’d look cooler than this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely at the warm-toned ornaments. “This looks like something out of a cheesy holiday catalog.”

“And what’s wrong with cheesy?” you challenged.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t actually have anything against cheesy—hell, he secretly loved how excited you got during the holidays. But arguing about it? That was part of the fun, if not a branch of his quality time as a love language.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a red bauble and hanging it perfectly on the tree. “You’re just scared to try something new.”

You laughed, walking over with another ornament to decorate with. “And you’re just scared because I’m right.”

As Bakugou worked to string the lights around the higher branches, you began unpacking the remaining ornaments from your storage box. You pulled out a small, slightly worn ornament in the shape of a star and held it up with a nostalgic smile.

“Do you remember this?”

He glanced down from the tree, frowning at the star in your hand. “Should I?”

No matter how much he tries to remember, he simply couldn’t recall what made this star so special that you had to ask him if he remembers it.

It’s a star, that’s for sure. A faded one at that.

You sighed, clearly unimpressed by his lack of sentimentality. “It’s the first ornament we bought together. Back when we were... what, eighteen?”

Bakugou paused. It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase during a rare day off from hero training.

You had somehow convinced him to go with you to wander around a Christmas market, bickering over everything from what food stalls to visit to what decorations looked “cool.” You had insisted on the star, and Bakugou—reluctantly—agreed after a heated argument about which shape of star’s better.

“Are you having a flashback monologue right now?”

That brought out a scoff from him. “Fuck no. Just remembered how you were annoying as hell that day,” he muttered.

“And you were so stubborn, god. You kept saying it was pointless to buy an ornament because I didn’t even have a tree back in my dorm.”

“Yeah, and you said, ‘It's not about the tree; it's about the tradition.’ What kinda cheesy crap was that?”

“It's true, though!” you argued, accepting his hand to place the star gently on the tree’s highest branch. “And now, look. We still have it. And now we can buy all the Christmas trees we could ever want.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As you continued decorating, the sound of your laughter and playful arguments filled the apartment, giving it a cozy home feel. By the time the tree was finished, Bakugou begrudgingly admitted to himself that it didn’t look half bad—even if it was the same colors as last year, though a decent fortune was spent for it to not be too repetitive.

It’s a good thing his work pays well (you split the cost of decorations equally; he just says that his work pays better even if yours is a lot higher than his).

You stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, onto the Christmas Eve menu. I was thinking we could do something light this year—maybe roasted chicken and a salad?”

Bakugou groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “Salad? On Christmas Eve? No fucking way.”

“What’s wrong with salad?”

“Is your childhood a bland mess to have salad as one of the main foods? It’s boring,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you when you gave him a pointed look. “We should make something warm and filling.”

“Okay, but you’re helping.”

“Since when did I ever leave all the cookin’ to you?”

Now that he’s 26, standing in the modest yet cozy apartment he shares with you, he realizes that dreams don’t always come in the exact shape you imagine.

Sure, he doesn’t have the massive house he once envisioned, but this apartment—filled with laughter, memories, and the faint scent of your favorite candles—is more of a home than anything his younger self could have dreamed up. The framed photos of your milestones, the shelves of books, and even a few of his hero equipment with the tools scattered on his office—it’s all perfect in a way he didn’t know he needed.

And his career? Well, Dynamight isn’t the Number One Hero yet, but he’s close. Close enough that his younger self would sneer but grudgingly admit it’s not bad.

He’s built a solid name for himself, and he’s done it his way. His rank might not be where he wanted it to be at this age, but he’s learned something more valuable than being the best—he’s learned the importance of balance.

The last part of that dream? The wife? He looks toward the kitchen, where you’re humming some off-tune melody, beginning to prepare what Bakugou’s about to cook with for dinner. The sight of you, so comfortable and almost glowing in your shared space, makes his chest tighten.

He must have a heart problem by this point because it comes at him at the most unexpected times whenever he sees you.

No, he doesn’t have a wife yet. But he’s about to change that.

He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

He’s got the ring—it’s hidden in the drawer under his socks, where he knows you won’t go snooping.

He knows you’ll say yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it made him a bit nervous. He knows because you look at him the same way he looks at you: like the world would become lighter and easier to conquer as long as you have the other.

But still, he waits.

Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants the timing to be perfect. Not rushed, not forced. He’s learned to be patient over the years.

“Kats, help with cutting the onions, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’!”

Soon, he’ll drop the question. He’s not in a rush. This is your life together, and it’s not perfect, but it is just right—chaotic, loud, and full of love. And when the time comes, he’ll make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

But you already know that, don’t you?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

honk shoo 😴💤

NSFW version on x

snow days with katsuki<33

you loved surprising your husband. while he was not particularly one for surprises, he had to admit that yours were often endearing as hell. a homemade cake for his birthday—simple, not too sweet and full of love. exactly how he liked it.

you’d gift him little trinkets you’d found when he came home from patrol. you’d prep his coffee the night before so he could wake up and just start the machine. you were thoughtful, and he loved that about you.

after a few inches of snow, katsuki sat in his office, perusing some papers with his glasses on. he looked so sexy with his muscled arms and thick thighs. you peek your head through the door, rapping your knuckles against the oak wood.

“‘tsuki?”

“yeah?”

and he smiles at your giggles, his pouty face upturning as he looks at you with a squint, “what’re you laughing at, huh?”

“just, look out your window!”

katsuki looks confused for a moment, before he’s shaking his head with a grin. another one of your antics, of course, he prattles on as he swings the curtains open. and there it was: your surprise.

‘I LOVE YOU KATSUKI!’

there it was, written in the snow in big bulky letters. he could even see your footsteps that trailed along the side of the message, your cute feet making adorable imprints in the reflective ice.

katsuki feels a warm rush go straight to his heart. he didn’t get sappy, didn’t get overly-emotional. but you, with your little surprises, well, he couldn’t help but get the slightest bit choked up. you really loved him.

he bounds over to you and swings you up into his arms, hands slipping to cradle your bare stomach as he kisses you in a frenzy, “fuckin’ love you.”

“i love you too!”

but katsuki couldn’t just let this slide. no, he couldn’t! which was why, when you woke up that next morning, you find your husband curled up on the couch with his head nodding towards the door.

“go check the porch out,” he grumbles, flicking through his phone while trying to hide his smirk.

“oh? what have you got planned, hmm?”

and you’re opening the door, grin widening as you spot carefully carved letters written in the snow.

‘I LOVE YOU,’ with your name written right next to it.

your cheeks flush and you suddenly feel so shy as your man comes behind you and pulls you flush against his hips.

“oh, katsuki, you didn’t have to—“

“yeah, but i wanted to. ‘sides, ‘s about time i give you a surprise back, yeah?”

and he’s scooping you into your arms and carrying you past the threshold of the front door into the warmth of your home.

"you only find sukuna attractive because he's in yuji's bod-"

LIEEEEESSSS

HAVE YALL SEEN THIS MAN?????

HIS TRUE FORM IS ONE OF THE YUMMEST, HOTTEST THINGS I'VE SEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, FOUR ARMS, TWO MOUTHS, TWO COCKS, 7 FEET OF PURE MUSCLE, HIS LETHAL FACE CARD AND YOU COME HERE AND HAVE THE AUDACITY TO TELL ME I ONLY FIND HIM ATTRACTIVE BECAUSE HE'S IN YUJI'S BODY???

PUH-LEASE I'M A TOTAL FREAK FOR THIS MAN, PUT ME AND HIM IN A ROOM TOGETHER AND ONE OF US IS COMING OUT PREGNANT AND IT AINT GONNA BE MEE

HE'S NOT A HEAR ME OUT, HE'S A HOLD ME BACK!!!!!

The Heart Cracks Before it Shatters (Pt5.5) ⋆｡°✩ Bakugou Katsuki

Masterlist ୨ৎ pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4 pt5

a look into Katsuki's isolation

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒

Glitter 𐔌 𐦯 : Okay so i know i said only one chapter left but... i wanted to give a little perspective into Katsuki's thoughts.

Warnings : Angsty, Female!Reader, Reader is a wife, Reader has children, bakugou is very sad, agruments, swearing, sadness, aged up characters, childern, babies.

W/C : 1.2k

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Katsuki is angry at you, and he fucking hates that.

It doesn’t happen often. Rarely, even. And when it does, it’s always fleeting—like when you hurt yourself doing something stupid, or when you tear yourself apart over things that aren’t your fault. Dumb shit. Shit he usually shuts down with a kiss to the temple and a gruff “knock it off.”

But right now? He’s raging.

The night you kicked him out happened fast. One minute, he was standing in the doorway, shoes still on, and the next, he was packing a bag in silence. He’d figured out pretty quick that it was because he hadn’t been… enough. Not affectionate enough. Not there enough. That’s fair. He gets it.

But also?

This whole thing is a unique kind of fucked.

He thought he was giving you space. Time. That’s what it was supposed to be. Because every time he tried to touch you, to close that gap, you froze up. And Katsuki doesn’t do ignoring signals. He thought you needed air. So he gave it to you. He focused on fixing all the other bullshit first, hoping you’d trust him again. Hoping it would feel safe again.

Clearly, that was the wrong fucking move. Now he’s crashing in Kirishima’s spare room like some washed-up loser who doesn’t know how to keep his family together.

And he’s pissed. At himself. At the situation. At you, even if he doesn’t want to be.

Because it feels unfair. Of course he wants to touch you. Hell, he’s been dying to. But he thought being respectful meant holding back, and you didn’t say a damn thing about it until you were telling him to get out. So how was he supposed to know?

He’s not angry at you the way he gets at other people. He’s frustrated. It twists in his gut, hot and sick and tight. He hates seeing you cry. Hates hearing you put yourself down (Why Katsuki Is Angry, Point One). And he really hates when things aren’t communicated (yeah, he gets the irony). You caught him off guard. Blindsided him. And now you’re both hurting. You’re upset. He’s upset. And him being out of the house? It feels too damn close to a real separation.

And that’s the part that makes his blood boil.

Two weeks of this. Two weeks of anger simmering low in his chest, mixing with a hollow sadness he can’t shake. And you still haven’t asked him to come back.

That scares him more than he’ll ever admit.

So his mood’s worse than usual—which is saying something. He’s snapping at civilians on patrol, his friends, and even the kids. That’s the part he hates the most.

It wasn’t even anything big. His head’s just so fucked up that he can’t hold onto his temper. And he misses you so much it’s making him stupid.

Koharu had been crying for nearly an hour, inconsolable in his arms. He tried everything. Nothing worked. And then Riko, standing small in the corner, mumbled, “Mama usually tries…”

And he lost it.

“Is your mother here? No? Then why bother telling me that?”

The words came out sharper than he meant. Meaner.

And the regret hit immediately. Riko’s face crumpled, her eyes wide and hurt, and Koharu only cried harder in his arms.

“Shit. Bug, I’m sorry,” he muttered, bouncing Koharu a little harder, desperate now. “I just—fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Riko said quietly, but she wouldn’t look at him. She slipped away to the guest room Kirishima set up for them, shutting the door behind her.

And he wanted to follow her. To say something. But the second he even thought about it, Koharu let out another wail in his arms, her little fists clenching in his shirt. So he spent the rest of the evening pacing the floor, whispering whatever nonsense he could think of to soothe her. By the time she finally wore herself out, heavy and damp against his chest, it was late. Too late.

And then it was time for them to go home.

He hated seeing Riko climb into the car without saying much of anything, her face drawn tight and distant. He hated it even more knowing it was his fault. Another mistake that dug deep. Another fuck-up he wouldn’t be able to take back.

Before he let them go, before he buckled her in, he crouched down next to her. Pulled her close and kissed the side of her head, his voice rough and quiet against her hair. “Sorry about earlier,” he muttered. “I love you.”

She only nodded. Didn’t say anything. And it felt like a weight settling on his chest that he couldn’t shake.

One of those parenting mistakes, he thought bitterly, that you don’t get a do-over for.

The girls went home after that. And he went back to Kirishima’s apartment.

Empty. Quiet. Not his.

He still refused to look for a new place, and he wasn’t planning to anytime soon. Not unless you forced his hand. Not unless you tore the ring off his finger and told him there was nothing left to fight for.

Getting a new place would make it final. Permanent. And that was something he wasn’t ready to swallow.

So instead, he walked through the door, dropped his keys on the counter like he lived there, and went straight to the shower. Sat there under the water until his skin felt raw, staring at the wall like it might tell him what the hell he was supposed to do next.  

Kirishima wasn’t home yet, which was fine. Better. Katsuki wasn’t in the mood to talk anyway. But it stung.

It stung because he knew exactly where Kirishima was. Out with you.

He’d mentioned it casually earlier, real offhand, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Grabbing dinner with Y/N,” he’d said, before slipping his shoes on and bolting out the door before Katsuki could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean.

And that sucked.

Because maybe you were just dropping off his shit. Maybe you were handing him back the last pieces of his life and telling him not to contact you again. And if that was the case, well—at least Kirishima would soften the blow. Right? Right.

He let his head fall back against the tile with a quiet, humorless laugh. Yeah. That sucked too.

And for now, that was all he could do. Sit with it. Wait. Hope you’d still give him the chance to fix what he broke.

Because if there was still a way back to you, he’d take it.

No matter how much it hurt.

.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊.⊹ °ʚ☆ɞ°.⭒₊

oh he's hurting (one chapter left fr this time!!!)

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Hopefully i got everyone! thank you for reading!

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