angelbaby191

[angelbaby191]

Detective

Katsuki Bakugo x Detective! Reader pt.2

part one

The metallic tang of ozone clung to the air, a leftover kiss from one of Bakugo’s earlier explosions. The underground garage echoed with the sound of your boots, steady against the concrete. Katsuki leaned against his battered motorcycle, arms crossed, crimson eyes flicking up when you stopped a few feet away.

"You always lurk in parking lots, or am I just special?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Special? Don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, though his voice lacked its usual bite. His gaze lingered on you, a flash of something unspoken passing through his expression before he turned away, his hands flexing against his crossed arms.

Tonight’s mission had ended clean, too clean. The same cartel pushing quirk enhancers had been one step ahead of you and Bakugo, leaving behind a nearly empty hideout and more questions than answers. Now, the two of you stood in the dim glow of the fluorescent garage lights, an unspoken tension hanging between you.

You crossed your arms, studying him. “So, this is where you brood when things don’t go your way?”

“Tch.” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you have paperwork to do, Detective?”

“Plenty,” you replied, leaning casually against a nearby pillar. “But I thought I’d check in first. Something’s eating at you.”

“Nothing’s eating at me,” he growled, pushing off the motorcycle to face you. His broad shoulders squared up as if preparing for a fight. “What’s it to you anyway?”

“You’re tense,” you said, ignoring the rising irritation in his tone. “More than usual. And you’re not exactly subtle.”

He froze, his jaw tightening. You’d hit a nerve, though he was too stubborn to admit it. The two of you had been working together for months now, long enough for you to notice the subtle cracks in his armor. But tonight was different. His usual explosive bravado was laced with something heavier, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s this case, isn’t it?” you pressed. “The enhancers. The overdoses. It’s getting under your skin.”

Bakugo scowled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Yeah, well, it should. This crap’s ruining people’s lives, and those bastards are still out there makin’ a profit. What the hell’s the point of all this if we can’t even stop ‘em?”

The raw frustration in his voice caught you off guard. You’d seen Bakugo angry—hell, that was his default setting—but this was different. This wasn’t just anger; it was guilt.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer. “We’ll stop them. It’s not all on you.”

“Feels like it is,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. He turned away, staring at the oil-streaked concrete as if it held the answers he was searching for. “I’m the damn number two hero. If I can’t handle this—”

“Stop.” Your tone was firm, cutting through his self-doubt like a blade. He turned to look at you, his crimson eyes blazing. “You’re not in this alone, Katsuki. We’re a team, remember?”

“Tch. You’re just a cop,” he said, though there was no malice in his words. “A good one, but you don’t get it.”

“Don’t I?” You took another step closer, your boots clicking against the floor. “I see what this stuff does to people. The bodies it leaves behind. The families it tears apart. And yeah, it’s hard. But you’re not gonna fix it all by yourself.”

His gaze softened, the fire in his eyes dimming just a fraction. For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of the garage lights.

“You’re annoyingly calm, you know that?” he muttered.

“Someone has to be,” you shot back, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Can’t have you blowing up every five minutes.”

His lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though he quickly hid it behind a scoff. “Whatever.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something vulnerable in the way he avoided your gaze, the way his hands flexed at his sides like he was holding himself back. You’d never seen him like this before, and it made your chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth.

“Katsuki,” you said, your voice softer now. “What’s really going on?”

He hesitated, his mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he clenched his fists, his gaze darting away.

“It’s you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“It’s you,” he repeated, louder this time. He turned to face you fully, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and something else—something deeper. “You drive me crazy, alright? You’re always so damn calm, so put together, like nothing can touch you. And it pisses me off because—because I care.”

Your breath hitched. The words hung in the air, raw and unpolished, but undeniably real. For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said.

“I care,” he continued, his voice rising with each word. “And it scares the hell outta me, okay? Because you’re not like anyone else I’ve ever worked with. You’re—you’re different.”

The confession hit you like one of his explosions, leaving your mind spinning. This was Bakugo Katsuki, the brash, unrelenting pro hero who never backed down from a fight. And here he was, standing in front of you, vulnerable and exposed in a way you’d never thought possible.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his ears burning red. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, alright? I’m just saying it because you deserve to know.”

A slow smile spread across your face, warmth blooming in your chest. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

He blinked, his scowl deepening. “What? Just like that? What if you said no?”

“Then I’d be an idiot,” you replied, stepping closer until you were almost within arm’s reach. “But for the record, I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes searched yours, uncertainty flickering in their crimson depths. Finally, he let out a huff, crossing his arms. “Fine. Then… you wanna go out or somethin’?”

Your smile widened. “Thought you’d never ask, Dynamight.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but you caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As the two of you walked toward the exit, the tension between you eased, replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

For all his explosions and bravado, Bakugo Katsuki had a way of making things unforgettable. And tonight, as the crisp night air greeted you, you couldn’t help but think: maybe this assignment wasn’t so bad after all.

[angelbaby191]

Detective

Pro Hero Bakugo x Detective Reader

The smell of scorched coffee grounds and over-oiled leather lingered in the air as Bakugo Katsuki leaned against the worn brick façade of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. The city buzzed around him, neon signs casting kaleidoscopic glows onto rain-slicked streets. His gauntleted hand flicked a faint spark to life, snuffing it out in time with the thudding rhythm of his boot against the ground.

"Hero work,” he muttered to himself. “This is a waste of my damn time.”

“Not your scene, huh?”

The voice came from his left, cool and amused. His crimson gaze snapped toward you. You stood just outside the flicker of a half-burned-out streetlight, the sharp click of your heavy steel-toed boots filling the space between you. A smirk played on your lips as you sauntered closer, hands tucked casually into the pockets of your coat.

“You always talk to yourself, or am I just special?” you teased, cocking your head slightly.

“Special, my ass.” Bakugo snapped, shoving off the wall. His eyes swept over you, sharp and assessing. Practical boots, worn but well-maintained. A coat that hugged your frame but didn’t restrict movement. And a pair of eyes that glimmered with something he couldn’t quite place. “You’re late.”

You tapped the face of the sleek watch on your wrist. “By my count, I’m right on time.”

“Tch.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

You stepped past him, unbothered by his gruff tone. “Relax, Dynamight. If you’re lucky, this might even be fun.”

The warehouse was barely a blip on the map, tucked away in an industrial district that reeked of mildew and decay. The dull glow of streetlights struggled to pierce the heavy fog rolling in off the bay.

“This it?” Bakugo asked, his voice low.

“According to my source,” you replied, crouching near the rusted side door. You inspected the old lock with deft fingers. “Shouldn’t be too heavily guarded. Couple of grunts at best.”

“Grunts,” he muttered. “Pathetic.”

“You always this charming?” you asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Only to people who waste my time.”

Your chuckle was quiet, almost lost to the sound of distant waves. “Good thing I’m not wasting it, then.”

The lock gave a soft click, and you pushed the door open with a gloved hand. Bakugo followed close behind, his crimson eyes scanning the dimly lit interior. The air was heavy with the scent of damp wood and something faintly chemical.

“Stay close.” you murmured, your tone serious now.

“I don’t need babysitting.” he hissed back.

“Sure you don’t.” you replied, though there was no heat to your words.

The two of you moved in sync, silent and efficient. He blasted open a locked office door with a controlled explosion, while you swept the room for any signs of movement.

“Over here.” you called softly, pointing to a stack of crates in the far corner.

Bakugo crouched beside you, prying one open with his gauntlet. Inside were rows of glass vials, their contents shimmering an unsettling shade of green.

“Quirk enhancers...” you said, your voice grim.

“Figured as much,” Bakugo muttered, picking up a vial to inspect it more closely. He turned it over in his hand, watching the liquid swirl under the faint light. “This shit’s been popping up more and more lately.”

“And it’s getting people killed,” you added, your gaze hard. “Overdoses. Side effects. Collateral damage when quirks spiral out of control.”

He glanced at you, noting the tension in your jaw. “You sound like you’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Maybe I have.” you replied, your tone curt.

Before he could press further, a faint creak echoed through the warehouse. Both of you froze.

“Company,” you whispered, drawing a sleek police issued gun from the holster on your hip.

Bakugo grinned, the thrill of the fight already sparking in his chest. “About damn time.”

The scuffle was over in minutes. The grunts were exactly as pathetic as Bakugo had expected—barely trained, more bark than bite. He took out most of them with well-placed blasts, while you handled the stragglers with surgical precision.

“You’re not bad.” Bakugo admitted grudgingly as the last of the thugs hit the ground.

“I’ll take that as a glowing endorsement.” you replied, wiping your blade clean on a discarded rag.

He smirked, glancing at the unconscious bodies scattered around you. “What now, Detective?”

“We wait,” you said, your tone clipped. “Someone higher up the chain is bound to notice we hit this place. When they come sniffing around, we’ll be ready.”

Back at the precinct, the two of you sat across from each other in a cramped conference room. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting harsh shadows over the stacks of paperwork littering the table.

“You always this neat?” Bakugo asked dryly, eyeing the chaotic spread of files and notes in front of you.

“Organized chaos,” you replied, unbothered by his sarcasm. “Everything’s where I need it to be.”

He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “If you say so.”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, broken only by the faint scratch of your pen against paper. Bakugo watched you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering on the sharp focus in your expression, the way your lips pursed slightly when you were deep in thought.

“What’s your deal, anyway?” he asked suddenly.

You didn’t look up. “My deal?”

“Yeah. Your quirk. Why don’t you use it?”

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and for a split second, your calm façade cracked. “Not everything’s about quirks, Mr Pro Hero.”

“Tch.” He crossed his arms, scowling. “Doesn’t mean you gotta hide it.”

“I ain't hiding anything,” you said evenly, though your tone had an edge now. “I just don’t need it to do my job.”

He didn’t press further, but the mystery gnawed at him. He’d figure you out eventually.

Later that night, you walked side by side through the precinct’s parking lot. The air was cool and crisp, the city’s usual noise muffled by the late hour.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” you said, breaking the silence.

Bakugo glanced at you, confused. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Earlier,” you explained, your smirk returning. “You said I wasn’t useless. I’m returning the favor.”

“Yeah, well…” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his ears burning faintly. “Don’t make it a habit.”

You laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. For a moment, Bakugo found himself watching you, the way the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp caught the curve of your smile.

As you reached your car, you paused, one hand resting on the door handle. “See you tomorrow, Dynamight.”

“Don’t be late,” he shot back, though there was no bite to his words.

You grinned, slipping into your car and driving off. Bakugo stood there for a moment, watching your taillights fade into the night.

Yeah, he thought. This assignment might not be so bad after all.

[angelbaby191]

Unbreakable Challenge

Kirishima x Reader

Eijiro Kirishima had one goal: to make you blush.

He’d admired you from afar for a while now. It was impossible not to notice how calm and composed you were in every situation. Missions, exams, social events—you handled them all with an unbreakable confidence that captivated him. But with that admiration came a curiosity that nagged at him: could he get under that cool exterior? Could he make your calm demeanor waver, even just once?

And so, Kirishima took it as a personal mission. Each day, he tried something different to see if he could throw you off.

Day one started with a simple, confident approach. He leaned against the wall as you entered the training room, hoping to catch you off guard.

“Looking good today, as usual,” he said, his voice low, adding a charming grin for good measure.

You glanced at him with that same calm smile he’d grown used to. “Thanks, Kirishima,” you replied, brushing past him without a second glance as you went to start your warm-up routine. The coolness in your voice, unflustered and unaffected, only fueled his determination.

Over the next few days, he tried everything he could think of. Compliments, gentle teasing, lingering touches. During training, he’d reach out to fix the collar of your uniform or brush his hand over your shoulder. Every time, you’d look at him with that steady gaze and a faint, knowing smile, almost as if you could see right through his attempts.

Day three arrived, and Kirishima was determined to step up his game. He’d thought up a new plan that involved a mix of charm and proximity.

The two of you were in the weight room, and he walked up just as you began lifting a set of weights. The sight of your form, calm and poised as you focused on each movement, sent a thrill through him, but he pushed it aside. He was on a mission.

“Need a spotter?” he offered, his voice coming out lower than he intended as he leaned in close, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from you.

You didn’t even miss a beat, flashing him a polite smile. “Sure,” you replied, setting the weights back with perfect control and giving him a brief nod. If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought you were amused.

Undeterred, he settled beside you, watching carefully. He could feel the tension in his own breathing, the heat creeping up his neck as he watched you. But you were as composed as ever, your eyes focused ahead, no trace of distraction or nervousness.

After a few minutes, you finished the set, stood up, and looked at him with that same calm, unreadable expression. Kirishima almost expected you to say something, but you simply gave him a brief nod and walked off.

By day five, he was nearly ready to give up. Nothing he’d tried had worked. It seemed like you were impenetrable.

But that day, as he arrived at class, he spotted you waiting by the door. There was a look in your eye, a glint of something he hadn’t seen before—a touch of mischief? Before he could figure it out, you stepped in close, and he felt his heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Kirishima,” you greeted, voice softer than usual, and before he knew it, you’d reached up, placing a hand gently on his arm.

“Y-Yeah?” he managed to stammer, suddenly aware of how close you were. Your fingers trailed along his forearm, featherlight but enough to set every nerve in his body on fire.

“I think it’s cute, you know,” you said, your gaze dropping to where your hand rested on his arm. “All your little attempts to fluster me.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “I—uh…”

Your fingers moved up, tracing along his shoulder before stopping at his collarbone, where you brushed his skin with your thumb, deliberate and slow. “You’re so obvious about it, too,” you continued, voice barely above a whisper as you leaned closer, your face mere inches from his. “But I have to admit… it’s kind of sweet.”

Kirishima’s heart raced, a heat he hadn’t expected flooding his cheeks. The tables had turned completely, and the worst part was he knew you could see right through him. He felt trapped, but in a way that was exhilarating.

Then, as if to seal your victory, you brushed your lips just beside his cheek, lingering close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. His heart thundered in his chest, his thoughts a mess as he struggled to find something—anything—to say, but you were already pulling back, giving him a satisfied smile.

“You know,” you murmured, looking up at him with that calm, unbreakable gaze, “you’re even cuter when you’re the one blushing.”

Kirishima’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. He was at a complete loss for words, his face hot and his pulse racing. And as you turned and walked into class, casting him one last, knowing glance over your shoulder, he knew one thing for certain: he’d never look at you the same way again.

[angelbaby191]

hi, I was wondering if you're doing any requests.

Yes I am!! You can submit anything! I don't do smuts or lemons though! I can do a little bit of spice!

My main thing to do is fluff or angst! So, feel free to ask for anything!! I do any character from any anime!

[angelbaby191]

Baby Eggs

Tokoyami x AFAB! Bird Quirk! Reader

!Rewrite!

The cramps hit like a tidal wave, gripping your lower abdomen and making your emotions spiral. One moment you were a sobbing mess, the next a volcano of anger, and then a queasy wreck. And to top it off, your quirk—a pair of large, feathered wings and a sensitivity to bird-like instincts—was not helping. Your maternal side was going absolutely feral. Earlier, Koda let you cuddle his bunny to calm down, but after you got teary, you’d retreated, not wanting to burden him with your mood swings.

Now, creeping down the stairs with your wings half-spread for balance, you slipped into the kitchen. It was well past midnight, so you had the place to yourself, which was perfect since all you wanted was toast. Kneeling to search the fridge, you came face-to-face with an open carton of eggs, sitting right by Mina's bag of discount Valentine's chocolate. Something inside you stirred—a protective, nurturing impulse. They’re just eggs, you told yourself, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they were… helpless. Needing you. Without a second thought, you scooped them up, cradling the carton like it was filled with tiny lives.

As you shuffled down the hall, holding the eggs with careful, cradling hands, you realized that you’d have to knock somehow. But with your arms full and your quirk making you feel overly protective, you weren’t about to shift the carton to just one hand. These eggs were fragile. They were babies, your quirk-driven instincts insisted. You weren’t going to let anything happen to them—not even a little wobble.

You sighed, looking at Tokoyami’s door and trying to figure out a way to get his attention. Your wing! That could work. You shuffled closer, angling your body to get a good aim with your wing, and lifted it slightly, bracing for what you hoped would be a gentle knock.

The first attempt… wasn’t so gentle. Your wing hit the door too softly, barely a tap, and you heard nothing from inside. You tried again, concentrating, this time giving a small, firm flick of your feathers. The sound was louder, but still not enough. You bit your lip in frustration, flaring your wings a bit more, trying to balance your instincts to protect with your need to knock.

Finally, on the third try, you managed a soft but noticeable knock, brushing your wingtip against the wood with enough pressure to echo lightly through the hall. You held your breath, your feathers quivering from the awkward angle, as you waited for a response.

After a moment, the door creaked open, and Tokoyami’s head appeared, blinking at you in sleepy confusion. You almost lost your composure seeing him like that—his feathers tousled, eyes soft from having just woken up, clearly not expecting you at this hour.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, voice low with concern as he noticed your watery eyes.

You sniffled. “Tokoyami… you’re the only one who’ll understand.” You tilted the eggs toward him. He blinked, staring down at the carton, then back at you.

“…Why do you have a carton of eggs?”

“They’re babies,” you whimpered, voice thick with emotion, “and they’re going to eat them.”

Tokoyami’s brow furrowed, his beak opening slightly as he glanced between you and the eggs, clearly torn between confusion and empathy. Wordlessly, he stepped aside to let you in, giving you and your ‘babies’ room on his bed. You settled in, holding the carton gently, while Tokoyami remained standing, his quirk Dark Shadow emerging to whisper worriedly in his ear.

“Is she… alright?” Dark Shadow muttered, blinking at you with wide eyes.

“She… I think so,” Tokoyami replied, though his tone was uncertain. He settled on the floor in front of you, crossing his arms. You looked up, feeling the embarrassment bloom as your face heated, but he didn’t seem judgmental. He was just… there, steady and calm.

“It’s my red week,” you admitted, fiddling with the corner of the carton. “I can’t keep my quirk under control. All the instincts are just… too much.”

Tokoyami nodded in understanding, his feathers relaxing slightly. “I know the feeling. Tsu-chan and I sometimes go through the same thing.”

He shifted closer, resting on his knees, and reached out to gently take the carton from your hands. You watched as he held it carefully, leaning down to nudge one of the eggs with his beak in a soft, almost tender way. His quiet cooing brought an unexpected warmth to your heart.

Seeing him like this, so gentle and calm, you felt a rush of gratitude and fondness. Tokoyami, who usually kept to himself, was handling your strange emotions and quirky instincts with nothing but quiet support. You sniffled, not from sadness, but from how deeply this moment touched you, realizing how kind he truly was.

He looked up, catching you staring, and you quickly turned away, cheeks warm as your wings gave a small, involuntary flutter. You didn’t think it was possible to like him more, but here you were, heart thumping as he held those eggs like they really were precious.

Ok, I genuinely love how this rewrite came out! I love Tokoyami and mainly rewrote it, because it popped up back on my feed after being up for like- a year? (And I'm on my period again.)

I'm constantly changing my formats, and I'm sorry!! I'mma stop doing the colored text for the character dialogue, mainly because it's a lot of hassle. Also, because it's tacky, now that I truly see it.

[angelbaby191]

Thinking About

Katsuki Bakugo:

who's partner is a higher rank than him.

Katsuki Bakugo, who would be a mess of emotions when he first realizes his partner outranks him as a pro hero. There’d be that instant jolt of pride, mixed with this competitive fire that practically ignites on the spot. It’d eat at him, gnawing a bit, and he’d spend days silently stewing over it.

How the hell did they get higher than him?

Katsuki Bakugo, who wouldn’t stop from watching them in action, admiration sharp in his eyes as he takes in the way they command the scene. There’s something undeniably powerful in how they handle everything – every villain, every rescue – with a kind of calm he can’t help but respect. It’s infuriating, honestly, how flawless they make it look, and it’s that same confidence that somehow makes his heart pound a little harder every time he sees it. He can’t deny it: It's fucking hot seeing you in your element. It's annoying that you've surpassed him. 👀

Katsuki Bakugo, who during patrols, would practically try to make a game out of it, like fine, they’re ranked higher, but they’re not stronger. They totally are. He’d go all out, purposely snagging villains right out of their grasp just to prove he’s just as capable, if not more. There’d be these small moments where he'd throw them a competitive smirk and say something like, “Better keep up, or they’ll start wondering if you really deserve that rank.” But deep down, he loves that they can meet him blow for blow.

Katsuki Bakugo, who in those rare, quieter moments, when it’s just the two of them, he’d lean in with that signature smirk, voice a low, teasing rumble as he murmurs, “Don’t think I don’t know how much this drives you crazy, too. You know, you being stronger than me…it’s annoyin’.” But then he’d pull them close, his eyes glinting with that unmistakable spark. “But it’s also really damn hot.”

Katsuki Bakugo, who knows their rank isn’t just a title. It’s a reminder that he’s got someone incredible by his side—someone who’s earned every bit of his respect, his admiration, and yeah, his affection, too.

[angelbaby191]

Good Morning

Kirishima x Bakugo x Reader

Sunlight was streaming through the bedroom window, softened by the light gray curtains you’d pulled closed the night before, casting a gentle glow over the room. Katsuki let out a low groan, shifting beneath the covers as he squinted against the brightness, his hand rubbing at his eyes.

It took him a moment to register the warmth pressing against his side. Eijiro was curled up next to him, one arm slung around Katsuki’s waist, their legs tangled together beneath the blanket. For a second, Katsuki considered pushing him off—this wasn’t their usual sleeping position, after all—but the steady rise and fall of Eijiro’s breathing lulled him, making it easy to relax into the comfort of their shared warmth.

Eijiro stirred a moment later, his forehead pressing against Katsuki’s shoulder, a faint smile playing at his lips as he mumbled something unintelligible. His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a quiet laugh as he took in their position.

“Morning, Kat,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

Katsuki scowled, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Don’t start with that cutesy morning crap.”

Eijiro just chuckled, though his hand gave Katsuki’s waist a little squeeze. “Whatever you say.” His gaze drifted to the bedside table, where two glasses of water sat waiting for them, already beaded with condensation. The sight made him smile, the thought of you anticipating their rough morning warming him from the inside.

Katsuki grabbed the glass, sitting up with a groan as he took a long drink. The water was cold, refreshing, and he could practically feel the relief washing over him with every sip. Eijiro reached for his own glass, mirroring him with a grateful sigh.

“You think they’re awake already?” Eijiro asked, glancing toward the door.

A faint clatter from the kitchen answered the question for him, and the two of them shared a knowing look. Even in the hazy aftermath of last night’s party, it didn’t surprise either of them that you’d be up first, taking care of things. Katsuki couldn’t help the little smirk that tugged at his lips as he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it a bit.

“Guess we should get up,” he muttered, though there was a reluctance in his tone. It was rare for them to have a lazy morning like this, waking up in a tangle of limbs and surrounded by the warmth of each other.

Eijiro grinned, stretching before throwing off the blankets. “Yeah, they're probably making breakfast, too. You know they always spoil us after nights like these.”

They shuffled out of the bedroom, bleary-eyed but a little more awake, the scent of something warm and savory drawing them toward the kitchen. As they approached, the comforting aroma of your cooking filled the apartment—eggs, a hint of melted cheese, and something else that made Katsuki’s stomach rumble, despite his lingering hangover.

There you were, standing at the stove, dressed in one of Eijiro’s oversized hoodies, its sleeves rolled up to keep out of the way as you carefully stirred a pan of scrambled eggs. A plate of toast was already stacked on the counter, along with two mugs of coffee waiting beside it.

Eijiro leaned against the doorframe, a fond smile on his face as he watched you. “Morning, baby.” he called softly.

You turned to look at them, smiling as they walked in, your eyes taking in their rumpled, sleepy forms. “Morning, sleepyheads,” you teased, turning back to the stove. “I figured you’d need a little fuel after last night.”

Katsuki’s smirk was barely hidden as he stepped closer, grabbing one of the mugs and taking a sip. “You know us too well,” he muttered, the warmth of the coffee soothing his throat.

Eijiro reached for the plate of toast, nibbling on a piece as he came up beside you. “You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he said, though the grateful tone in his voice was unmistakable. “We’d have survived.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful nudge with your elbow. “Please. I know how you two get. Besides, I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Katsuki looked away, hiding the hint of a smile that tugged at his lips as he settled into a chair at the kitchen island. There was something grounding, comforting, in the way you just knew them, how you anticipated these little needs without being asked. Eijiro slid into the seat beside him, his usual brightness subdued but still warm as he bit into his toast.

“Anything we can help with?” Eijiro asked, though his tone suggested he was perfectly content just to sit there, watching you.

You shook your head, plating the scrambled eggs and passing the dishes over to them. “Just eat. That’s help enough.”

Katsuki let out a contented hum as he dug in, the warm, cheesy eggs a perfect cure for his pounding headache. Eijiro was quieter than usual, his gaze drifting between you and Katsuki, a soft look in his eyes as he took in the peacefulness of the morning.

For a few minutes, the kitchen was filled with the quiet sounds of breakfast—mugs clinking, the scrape of forks against plates, and the gentle hum of the city outside the window. It was simple, but there was something about the routine that felt deeply satisfying, like an unspoken promise of many more mornings like this.

As you sat down with your own coffee, Katsuki caught your eye, his expression surprisingly soft. “Thanks, angel. For… you know, takin’ care of us.”

You waved off his gratitude, but the warmth in your smile gave you away. “Of course. I kind of like having you two around, after all.”

Eijiro’s hand found yours beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Good. Because we’re not going anywhere.”

[angelbaby191]

More than Headlines

Kirishima x Bakugo x GN! Reader

The studio lights were a little harsh, and the set—polished and brightly colored—felt strangely out of place for what was supposed to be a serious interview. But you had Eijiro on one side, his warmth a steady anchor, and Katsuki on the other, his usual grumbling and intensity tempered by a quiet loyalty. You’d been married almost a year now, and while the public eye never quite left the three of you, you were used to it by now.

This interview, though, had a different weight to it. It was one of the first times you’d all appeared together in an exclusive, high-profile sit-down, and even Katsuki had reluctantly agreed to take part. They’d framed it as a chance to highlight your agency’s work and address the skepticism about your unique marriage, but deep down, you suspected the headline would have more to do with your relationship than your hero work.

As the reporter started, Eijiro leaned forward, his grip around your shoulders firm and reassuring. The first questions were harmless enough.

“So, mr Red Riot,” the reporter began with a gleam in his eye, focusing on Eijiro. “You've been with the Hero Association since graduation. Tell us—what made you want to start your own agency?”

Eijiro's smile was bright and genuine, the way it always was when he talked about his dreams. "Well, it wasn't just me. It was all of us," he said, gesturing to you and Katsuki. "The three of us have been working together since U.A., through training, through missions. We’re a team, and eventually, we wanted to have a place where we could work the way we wanted—focusing on the missions and the people who need us most, not just on what makes the best headlines."

The reporter nodded, his smile looking more like a smirk as he leaned forward with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” he pressed, feigning curiosity. “But starting an agency isn’t a small feat, especially for three high-profile heroes. How did you make it all work?”

“Yeah, well, we worked our asses off,” Katsuki interjected before you could answer. He crossed his arms, his glare practically daring the reporter to say something snarky. “We knew what we wanted, and we got it done. You think we’d be sitting here today if we didn’t know what we were doing?”

Eijiro shot Katsuki a soft, playful elbow to the ribs, chuckling. “Kat’s right. We’re stubborn when it comes to our goals, and we knew we could create something better together than what was out there.”

The reporter’s smile twitched, clearly hoping for a softer, more marketable story, but he quickly moved on. “Right,” he said, his tone still a bit dismissive. “But let's talk about that legendary War during your first year. A lot of people look back at U.A. and talk about that as a moment that changed you three and many others. How do you feel about it now?”

There was a collective pause as memories of that time resurfaced. Eijiro’s usually cheerful expression dimmed as he looked at the floor briefly, his brow furrowing. “It changed all of us,” he admitted, voice quieter. “We were kids, thrown into a war we weren’t prepared for, but we made it through because of each other. We lost people. Friends. But we didn’t let that stop us. If anything, it made us stronger.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, grounding him. “That time taught us what it means to fight for something bigger than ourselves. And it taught us how important it is to have people by your side.”

The reporter nodded, looking a bit thrown off by the honesty in your words. Shifting slightly, he tried another angle. “Your quirks work well together. I know that Kirishima's Unbreakable Quirk is legendary, paired with Bakugo's explosions and—well, your unique abilities. How do you make them work together so fluidly?”

Katsuki scoffed, a half-smirk forming on his lips. “We’ve been doing this for years. You think we don’t know how to back each other up by now?”

Eijiro grinned, his earlier sadness dissipating. “Yeah, we each know our roles in a fight and where our strengths lie. Kat’s explosions keep the offense up, I’m the shield, and you—” He turned to you, his smile softening, eyes warm. “You tie it all together. Your quirk makes us stronger, gives us the edge to push through anything.”

You returned his smile, feeling the familiar surge of pride that always came when you fought alongside them. “We’ve always had each other’s backs. We’re a team; it’s what makes us effective.”

The reporter tapped his notepad, as if searching for a new angle to throw at you. His voice lowered, taking on a more personal tone. “And what about when the teamwork ends for the day? Surely being together in the field, then going home together, must make things… complicated.”

Your smile didn’t waver, but you felt Eijiro tense slightly beside you, and Katsuki’s expression grew darker. He wasn’t one to entertain personal questions, but his eyes flicked to you, letting you handle it.

“Not at all,” you replied evenly. “It actually makes things easier. We know each other better than anyone. Being able to go home to people who understand you on that level… it’s a blessing, not a complication.”

“Interesting.” The reporter’s tone held a note of skepticism, and he angled his body toward you. “You must get a lot of questions about your marriage, though. After all, it’s not every day we see a poly arrangement in the hero world.”

Eijiro chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension that had started to creep in. “Well, it’s not the ‘normal’ relationship, I guess, but it’s ours. We didn’t set out to make any kind of statement—we’re just happy together.”

The reporter’s eyebrows rose, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer. “Happy, yes, but a question many have is how exactly it works. I mean, three heroes… I imagine things must get interesting behind closed doors, if you know what I mean.”

The moment he said it, you felt the heat spike in the room. Katsuki sat up straighter, his jaw locked, hands balling into fists. His voice was low, simmering with suppressed rage. “The hell did you just ask us?”

The reporter flinched slightly, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Katsuki’s reaction, but his gaze turned to you as if daring you to answer. Eijiro’s hand tightened protectively on your shoulder, his usually warm expression hardening into one of warning and uncomfort.

But instead of letting either of them take the lead, you raised a hand, gently nudging Eijiro to let you handle it. Katsuki’s eyes met yours, and though still fuming, he held his tongue, trusting you to speak.

With a calm, collected expression, you leaned forward, meeting the reporter’s gaze directly. “In a world where we're risking our lives every day to protect others, where we face danger daily to keep people safe, you’d think people would care more about our hero work than our personal lives.”

The reporter blinked, clearly not expecting such a controlled but cutting response. Your voice was steady, but there was a hard edge to it, an undeniable authority.

“Our marriage is built on mutual respect, trust, and love. It’s not ‘interesting’ or some novelty—it’s our life. And we don’t need to explain the details to anyone who can’t see beyond a headline,” you continued, your tone unwavering. “If that’s all you’re focused on, then that’s a reflection on you, not us.”

Eijiro’s hand slipped down to clasp yours, giving a firm, supportive squeeze. His pride in you was clear, and Katsuki gave a sharp, approving nod. “Yeah,” he said, voice laced with a mixture of admiration and impatience. “What they said. Got any actual questions, or are you just here to pry into stuff that’s none of your damn business?”

The silence was thick and heavy, and the reporter shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, mumbling some half-hearted apology as he hurriedly tried to wrap up, looking visibly thrown by your strength.

When the interview finally ended, and the lights dimmed, Eijiro pulled you into a warm hug, laughing softly. “Babe, that was amazing! You totally handled that jerk.”

Katsuki’s scowl softened as he ruffled your hair, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You shut him up better than any explosion could. Proud of you.”

You leaned into their warmth, feeling the familiar sense of security that only they could bring. “Guess we’re stronger together, huh?”

Eijiro grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Always.”

[angelbaby191]

Unexpected News

Katsuki Bakugo x AFAB! Reader

The sun was just breaking over the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow through the window of the small but cozy apartment you shared with Katsuki Bakugo. The gentle light played over his face as he lay sprawled on the bed, his usual intense scowl softened in sleep. The faint creak of the floorboards as you moved through the apartment didn’t stir him; he was a heavy sleeper, especially after long days of patrols and late-night training sessions.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the subtle scent of Katsuki’s cologne and the faint traces of smoke that always seemed to cling to him. You had grown to love that scent—it was a reminder of the intensity, strength, and fire that he carried with him wherever he went.

As you poured a cup of coffee, you felt him stir. The quiet morning was broken by the familiar sound of his heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen, his form still rumpled from sleep, but his eyes sharp as ever.

“Oi,” he grumbled, voice rough with sleep. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” His scowl was softened by the lingering haze of sleep, and though he tried to look irritated, there was a warmth in his gaze that he couldn’t quite hide.

You smirked, taking a sip of your coffee and savoring the warmth that seeped through you. “Figured you could use the rest,” you replied. “Plus, I didn’t want to deal with your usual morning complaints.”

He snorted, grabbing his own cup of coffee and muttering something under his breath as he took a sip. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the early morning light spilling across the kitchen and filling the small space with a warm, golden glow.

After finishing breakfast, you both suited up, the quiet familiarity of the routine grounding you. His hero gear clinked faintly as he adjusted his gauntlets, the metal cool and smooth beneath his fingers. You noticed how he flexed his left arm slightly, testing it, a faint shadow crossing his face as he recalled the lingering injuries from the battle against the League of Villains.

You placed a reassuring hand on his arm, your touch light but steady. “Don’t push it too hard, okay?” Kissing his cheek.

His gaze flicked to your, and though his expression softened, he quickly masked it with his usual scowl. “I know my limits,” he grumbled, returning a kiss to your lips. Though you could see the gratitude in his eyes.

As you both stepped out into the city, the morning air was crisp, carrying with it the faint hum of distant traffic and the murmur of people starting their day. The sky was a clear blue, the early sun casting long shadows across the buildings as you parted ways, each heading to your respective patrol routes.

The city was alive with movement, the sidewalks crowded with people rushing to work, students chatting as they made their way to school, and street vendors setting up their stands. The scent of freshly baked bread drifted from a nearby bakery, mixing with the earthy smell of fallen leaves as autumn began to settle over Musutafu.

Your patrol was uneventful at first, a calmness settling over the city as you moved through your assigned route. You greeted a few civilians, offering them a friendly nod and a reassuring smile. It was moments like these that reminded you why you had become a hero—not just for the battles and the adrenaline, but for the chance to protect and serve the people of this city.

Suddenly, a deafening crash shattered the calm, the ground beneath your feet trembling as a powerful shockwave rippled through the air. Your instincts kicked in immediately, your eyes snapping to the source of the disturbance. In the distance, a massive villain loomed over the buildings, their destructive power already evident in the shattered glass and crumbling structures around them.

The air was thick with dust and the acrid scent of burning metal as you darted forward, dodging debris and calling out to civilians, urging them to find cover. Screams filled the air, blending with the distant wail of sirens as other heroes arrived on the scene.

Your mind was focused, every movement precise and deliberate as you worked to evacuate civilians, pushing yourself to the limit to ensure that no one was left behind. The villain’s power was overwhelming, each blow shaking the ground and sending shrapnel flying through the air. You could feel the strain in your muscles, the burn of exhaustion creeping in as you continued to fight, determined to see this battle through to the end.

On the other side of the city, Katsuki was wrapping up his own patrol, his thoughts drifting to you as he made his way back toward the agency headquarters. The sun was higher now, casting a harsh light over the streets as the morning crowds began to thin. He was just about to call you, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone, when it rang.

The number was unfamiliar, but his blood ran cold as he recognized the name of the hospital associated with your agency displayed on the screen. Without a second thought, he answered, pressing the phone to his ear, his jaw clenched as he braced himself for the worst.

“Katsuki Bakugo?” The voice on the other end was calm, but there was an underlying urgency that sent a shiver down his spine. “This is Dr. Sato from Musutafu General Hospital. Your partner, Mrs. ____ Bakugo, has been admitted. We recommend you come as soon as possible.”

He didn’t wait for them to say anything else. His mind was already racing, panic tightening his chest as he turned and sprinted toward the hospital, his heart pounding as he dodged through the crowds, not caring about the startled looks from civilians or the concerned shouts of his fellow heroes. All he could think about was you—where you were, how badly you were hurt, if he’d made a mistake in letting you go out alone.

The minutes felt like hours as he ran, the world around him fading into a blur. The familiar sights of the city he’d protected for years barely registered as he focused solely on getting to you, on being there when you needed him most.

The hallway outside your room felt like it stretched on forever, each fluorescent light casting a sharp glare over the sterile, white walls. Katsuki’s fists clenched tightly as he stared down the corridor, feeling the itch to storm back to your room and make sure you were alright himself. But the doctor’s grave tone held him in place, pulling him reluctantly into a small consultation room just off the main hall. The room was dimmer, quieter, with the hum of a machine in the corner filling the silence as he waited for the doctor to speak.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” the doctor began, flipping through a few pages on their clipboard, their expression serious yet cautious. “Your partner’s injuries are indeed minor. A broken arm, a few lacerations, and some bruising. But otherwise, they’re in stable condition.”

Relief hit him like a rush of air, momentarily loosening the tight knot of worry in his chest. But before he could completely relax, the doctor continued.

"Though, we have found something abnormal about their stats. We would like to conduct an ultrasound to be sure."

Katsuki's eye twitched. His brows furrowing as he grabbed the doctor by his shirt collar to grumble in his face. "The fuck you need an ultrasound for? It's a broken fucking arm!"

The doctor fumbled over his words, trying his best to explain that they wanted to make sure everything was ok, and that you would be fine. Finally managing to calm Katsuki's fury in the slightest.

“Fine,” he muttered, jaw clenched as he looked back toward the door. Dropping the doctor. “Just… do it. But if they’re not hurt, I’m going back in there.”

The doctor nodded sheepishly, understanding the intensity in his voice. They left him alone in the consultation room, and he paced, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to steady the chaos in his mind. The low hum of the hospital machinery, the coldness of the sterile walls, the antiseptic smell—all of it was grounding, pulling him back to reality even as his thoughts spun.

Time slipped by slowly as Katsuki returned to your room. The worry in his chest had softened, replaced with a strange calm that he couldn’t fully explain. When he opened the door, the sight of you sitting up in bed, cradling your arm in a sling, brought a rush of relief that nearly took his breath away. You looked tired but at peace, a small smile breaking across your face when you saw him.

“Took ya long enough.” you teased, your voice soft but carrying that familiar warmth.

“Tch,” he scoffed, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Couldn’t stay out of trouble, could you?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one running into buildings last week, Mr #2 Pro.” you shot back, your eyes bright despite the bruises shadowing your skin.

Katsuki’s expression softened, and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand resting gently on yours. The silence that followed was comfortable, a quiet moment in the sterile hospital room that felt like a bubble shielding the two of you from the world outside. He noticed the faint scent of antiseptic mixing with your familiar scent—something grounding, comforting. He took a steadying breath, savoring this calm before speaking.

Before he could say anything, the doctor entered the room, holding a clipboard and wearing a faint smile. You straightened up, a curious glint in your eyes as you exchanged a look with Katsuki, your brow furrowing as you sensed his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Your injuries are healing well,” the doctor began, flipping through their notes. "Obviously." You answered back. “We’ll keep an eye on your arm, but you should be ready for light duty in a few weeks. However…”

Katsuki’s hand tightened around yours, his gaze locked on the doctor, a fierce protectiveness radiating from him even as he waited for them to continue.

The doctor met both your eyes, their expression softening as they spoke. “Congratulations. You’re going to have a child.”

A stunned silence fell over the room, the weight of the words hanging in the air like a tangible force. You blinked, your mouth opening slightly as you tried to process the news. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, your eyes wide with shock and a glimmer of wonder.

“Katsuki…” you breathed, turning to look at him, your gaze filled with an emotion that mirrored the awe and disbelief in his own eyes. "This is your fault." You said, playfully glaring at Katsuki

He glared at you, his throat tight as he struggled to find words. For once, the usually sharp-tongued, fiery hero was at a loss, his mind spinning with the reality of what this meant. His hand, still holding yours, gave a gentle, almost reassuring squeeze as he tried to ground himself.

“You… we…” he muttered, the words barely a whisper. “Guess I’ll have to teach ‘em how to dodge better than you, huh?”

The small laugh that escaped you was half a sob, htting him on the arm. The weight of the moment crashing over you both. You leaned into him, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as you let the emotions wash over you. He wrapped an arm around you, his touch gentler than ever as he held you close, his other hand moving to rest on your stomach in a rare, vulnerable gesture.

For a moment, the harsh lights, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the beeping monitors—they all faded away, replaced by the quiet strength of his embrace. The realization settled over you both, filling the room with a warmth that seemed to radiate from within.

After a few moments, you pulled back, meeting his gaze. His usual fierceness was softened by something tender, a look you rarely saw but one that spoke of promises unspoken, of a future that, though uncertain, felt brighter with him by your side.

“Think you’re ready to be a dad, Katsuki?” you asked, a teasing smile breaking through the tears that shimmered in your eyes.

He snorted, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips, though the softness in his gaze remained. “Please. I’m Katsuki Bakugo. Of course I am.” He paused, his smirk shifting into something more vulnerable. “But… I guess I’ll have to work on the ‘not yelling at kids’ thing.”

You laughed, the sound filling the small room, the tension melting as you leaned into his shoulder once more. For a while, you simply stayed like that, letting the weight of the news settle, feeling the quiet promise of a new beginning surround you both..

[angelbaby191]

Midnight Comforts

Hanta Sero x Reader

The dimly lit dorm kitchen is a sanctuary at this hour, humming softly with the residual warmth of evening. A light golden glow from the overhead lights illuminates the countertop, casting a soft halo around you and the mixing bowl in your hands. You move quietly, not wanting to break the peaceful silence that wraps itself around the room, stirring the bowl of thick chocolate batter in a steady rhythm. It’s just you and the chocolate cake—a little midnight indulgence you hadn’t planned for but now find yourself grateful to make.

The familiar clinking of metal against ceramic fills the space around you, a meditative sound that soothes the edges of your mind, calming the churn of anxious thoughts beneath your calm exterior. You don't let them show, of course; the small waves of anxiety find an outlet in your productivity, keeping your emotions in check in a way that feels healthy. The simple ritual of baking has become a kind of therapy—a moment of creation, and sometimes, solace. The batter is rich and dark, its sweetness filling the air around you with a deep cocoa scent as you work.

Your fingers lift a small handful of flour from the bag on the counter, sprinkling it into the bowl. A few flecks drift up, landing on the counter and smudging across your cheek as you swipe your hand absently. You don’t mind the mess; it makes the kitchen feel warm and lived-in, cozy even. The quiet is comforting, only occasionally broken by the muffled laughter from the nearby common area, where a few of your friends linger, unwinding from a long day. Kirishima’s deep voice followed by Mina’s laughter cuts through the stillness, reminding you that, despite the peace of the moment, you’re not alone.

But then, a sound closer than laughter catches your ear. You hear the quiet padding of footsteps moving across the tile, approaching slowly, though they don’t startle you. Somehow, you know exactly who it is before he even steps into view.

“Hey there.” comes the familiar voice of Hanta Sero, his tone warm and sleepy. He stands in the doorway, his lean frame relaxed, his dark eyes reflecting the soft light, making them look almost gold. There’s a hint of a playful smile on his lips, and you can’t help but return it, a little warmth creeping into your cheeks despite yourself.

“Hanta,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you glance down, focusing on the way the chocolate batter thickens under your spoon. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He shrugs, a soft chuckle escaping him as he moves further into the room. He has this way of existing in any space, effortlessly filling it with his presence while somehow keeping the mood light and comfortable. “Figured I’d find you here,” he says, watching you work with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. “Whenever it’s late and you’re not around, I know I’ll find you baking up something good.”

You chuckle softly, cheeks warming a little under his gaze, though you keep your attention on the bowl. You can feel his eyes on you, the familiar comfort of his presence settling over you like a cozy blanket. Sero smells like oranges, warm and bright, with a faint earthy undertone lingering on his clothes. It’s grounding, and you find yourself breathing in a little deeper, enjoying the mix of scents that now fill the kitchen.

Without warning, he reaches out, scooping a bit of flour from the counter and brushing it across your cheek with a mischievous smile. You scrunch your nose, brushing it off with a huff, only for him to laugh, clearly pleased with himself.

“So, what are we making?” he asks, settling himself on the counter beside you, swinging his legs as he watches you stir, his attention steady and soothing.

“Just a classic chocolate cake,” you answer, focusing on the batter’s texture as you lift the spoon and let the mixture drip slowly back into the bowl, thick ribbons leaving trails in the dark, glossy batter. “Nothing fancy. Just wanted to keep my hands busy.”

Sero hums in acknowledgment, watching as you pour a splash of vanilla into the bowl, its sweet, rich scent mingling with the cocoa. You glance over at him, noticing his calm, easy smile and the way he’s looking at you—like he’s known you forever and can read you without any effort. It’s comforting, grounding even, in a way that makes you feel seen.

You reach up to grab a whisk from the cabinet, but before you can, Sero’s already there, leaning over and handing it to you with a lazy grin. His fingers brush yours, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Can’t let my angel do all the work, can I?” he says lightly, though there’s a warmth in his gaze that makes you pause, cheeks tingling. He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing yours, and you can feel his breath warm against your neck as he watches the batter swirl.

You don’t say anything, but there’s a quiet understanding in the air between you both, something unspoken but clear. He leans over, one arm casually draped across the counter beside you, but the closeness feels intimate in a way that makes your heart quicken just slightly.

He moves behind you, his hands slipping around your waist, his fingers grazing the soft material of your shirt. He doesn’t say anything, but his touch is gentle, grounding, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your sides in a way that’s both reassuring and comforting.

“Hanta…” you say softly, the word barely a breath as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His scent—warm and familiar, with that hint of citrus and something more earthy—wraps around you, filling your senses. The steady rhythm of his breath against the back of your neck sends a calm shiver down your spine.

With the kitchen bathed in a warm, golden glow, you lean back against him, feeling his warmth seep into you. For the first time in a while, your mind feels at peace, the ever-present buzz of anxiety fading in the quiet of this moment.

Then, without a word, he leans in, his lips brushing softly against the back of your neck in a way that’s both gentle and full of meaning. The contact is tender, and you let out a soft sigh, your shoulders relaxing as you sink into his embrace.

[angelbaby191]

Strength

Tenya Iida x Plus Sized! Reader

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the U.A. High dorms, casting golden light across the common area. Tenya Iida sat on the edge of the couch, his posture as rigid as ever, his sharp gaze flicking over to where you sat, distractedly scrolling through your phone. He couldn't help but notice how different you'd been acting lately, how much quieter and more reserved you'd become.

Normally, you were always by his side—teasing him for his seriousness, leaning into him for warmth, or jokingly poking his arm to get him to relax. Lately, though, you hadn’t been as touchy, and it wasn’t lost on Tenya that you seemed to be withdrawing, keeping a noticeable distance. This change troubled him deeply, but he knew there was only one way to address it: head-on.

Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his glasses and rose to his full height, his shadow falling across the room. "Baby," his voice was as steady as ever, though a hint of concern laced his tone, "may I speak with you for a moment?"

You paused, looking up from your phone to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, were softer now, filled with an earnestness that made your heart clench. "Yeah," you replied, though your voice came out quieter than you'd intended, "what's up?"

Tenya crossed the room with purposeful strides, his broad figure commanding attention even in casual clothes. Today, he'd opted for his workout gear—fitted navy compression leggings and a matching short-sleeved shirt that hugged his form. The fabric stretched taut over his chest and arms, accentuating the powerful muscles that came from years of rigorous training. His thighs were thick, strong, his calves straining against the fabric as he walked. His shirt clung to his torso, outlining his firm abs and the broad expanse of his chest, perfectly tailored to his large, athletic build. There was a fluid grace to the way he moved, every step deliberate, controlled—like the engine of a finely tuned machine.

He sat beside you, his sheer presence filling the space. "My Love." he began, voice low but full of authority, "I’ve noticed you haven’t been yourself lately. You’ve been… distant."

You immediately felt your heart tighten in response, your gaze dropping to your lap. You hated how observant Tenya could be, how easily he saw through you. But more than that, you hated the vulnerability that came with admitting what had been bothering you.

"I’m fine, really," you muttered, though the words felt hollow. You busied yourself with your phone again, hoping he would drop it.

But this was Tenya Iida. Of course, he wouldn't let it go.

"Angel..." his tone was firm, though not harsh. "Please don’t lie to me. I care about you too much to ignore this." He turned his body slightly, his large hands resting on his thighs, strong and steady. "If something is wrong, I want to know. I want to help you, because I care."

The sincerity in his voice left no room for evasion. With a heavy sigh, you felt your resolve crumble. You’d never been one to admit weakness easily, but Tenya made you feel safe in a way few others could. Still, what you were about to say felt stupid. Embarrassing.

"It’s just…" You hesitated, chewing on your lip before forcing yourself to continue. "It’s my body. Lately, I’ve been feeling… ashamed of it."

Tenya’s brow furrowed in confusion. "Ashamed? But why?" His deep blue eyes searched yours, genuinely baffled. He saw you as perfect in human form. Loving all your curves and plushness. Your softness was a comfort to him. How could you possibly dislike something so beautiful in his eyes.

You took a deep breath, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I’ve always been bigger than the other students. I know I’m not overweight, but I’m still… plump. I don’t look like them—slim, toned, fit—and it’s been getting to me. I’ve just been feeling… ashamed of my weight. I don’t want to be a burden, you know?"

For a moment, there was silence, and you regretted saying anything at all. But then, to your surprise, Tenya reached out and gently took your hand in his, his grip strong but careful. His eyes softened even more, and the seriousness in his face melted into something deeply compassionate.

"My love," he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, "your weight does not determine your worth, and it most certainly does not affect how I see you." He paused, his gaze firm. "You are strong, both physically and mentally. You have nothing to be ashamed of. And as for being a burden—never." He kissed your forehead at the end of his 'lecture'. Reassuring and pushing his point of love for you and your body.

You looked away, trying to blink back the sudden sting of emotion. "But I’m not like—"

"Enough," he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. "I won’t hear another word of that. Tomorrow, I’ll show you that you are not a burden."

The next day, after classes ended, Tenya led you to the training room. He’d changed into another set of workout clothes—this time a sleeveless compression top that revealed his broad shoulders and muscular arms. His biceps flexed with every movement, the fabric of his shorts hugging his powerful legs as he walked. It was hard not to stare—Tenya’s build was nothing short of impressive, his body the product of tireless discipline and training. But today, there was a particular focus in his eyes, like he had something to prove.

Without a word, he entered your dorm. He dropped into a push-up position on the mat he had placed in front of your large mirror, his form as perfect as always. His triceps bulged slightly as he braced himself. He looked over his shoulder at you, his expression calm but determined.

"Sit on my back," he said.

You blinked, unsure if you heard him right. "What?"

He didn’t even flinch. "I want you to sit on my back while I do push-ups."

You hesitated. "Tenya, I don’t think—"

"Trust me, Y/N." His voice was steady, and the look in his eyes made it impossible to argue.

Reluctantly, you climbed onto his back, settling your weight as lightly as you could. The tension in your body was immediate—you didn’t want to be too heavy, didn’t want to make it harder for him.

But to your surprise, Tenya began doing push-ups effortlessly, his muscles barely straining. His back felt solid beneath you, and his movements were fluid, powerful. You could hear the controlled rhythm of his breathing, each exhale calm and steady as he lowered himself down and pushed back up without missing a beat.

"See?" he said between breaths, keeping his focus on the task. "You’re absolutely perfect. You’re not too heavy. I’m strong enough to carry you."

You blinked, feeling a wave of emotion wash over you as you watched him continue without even faltering. And then, to your utter shock, he switched to one hand.

"Tenya!" you yelped, half-laughing, half-stunned. "Are you serious right now?"

He grinned, his breath quickening just a bit, but he didn’t stop. "If this proves… my point… then yes."

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him—this ridiculously strong, stubborn man, going out of his way to show you that he could carry you, that he wanted to carry you, in every sense of the word. There was no embarrassment left, only a deep, swelling warmth in your chest.

When he finally stopped, he let you climb off before standing and stretching, his arms raised above his head, muscles taut and glistening with sweat. He turned to you, his smile soft but genuine.

Tenya stepped closer, gently cupping your cheek with one large hand, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your heart skip. "You are perfect just as you are. Never doubt that."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders that had nothing to do with your body. "Yeah… I think I do."

[angelbaby191]

[angelbaby191]

DnD IMAGINE!!

*sets at a travelling bar, filled with patrons that are never there too long, for they must continue on their journey. A young sorcerer, traveling with his guild spots a rather beautiful young (lady/man) sitting at the bar, sipping on their drink, and decides to shoot his shot.*

Sorcerer: "Hello there, young (lady/man). I couldn't help but notice you sitting here, all alone."

*The person turns in their seat slightly to face him, remaining polite*

"Oh! Hello sir. May I help you?"

*The man smiles, thinking they are interested*

"It's not about me, who'd be helping whom, My dear. What do you say we go someplace else, hm?"

*The person nervously looks around, then back to the back, talking just under a whisper*

"Sir... While I appreciate your confidence, I would think it best for you to leave, very quickly.."

*The man raises a brow in confusion*

"And why might that be?"

*He asked, sceptically*

"My husband is-"

*The person began, before being cut off my foot steps. The man looks behind him, slowly. Seeing a 7ft Half-Orc. Standing proud. The man ponders for a moment, then laughs. The orc and the person look at him in surprise.*

"Oh yeah! There isn't a GOD that could help you, other than him! I'd feel like a needle prick!"

//THE END//.

[angelbaby191]

My self insert cuz why not!! #mha #oc #