#AND DABI NEEDS TO GROW HIS HAIR OUT AND PUT IT UP

[tapiocakisses]

touya todoroki (dabi) nsfw alphabet

tags — implied demisexual dabi, gender of partner isn't specified, nsfw content, switch dabi, switch reader

warnings — brief mentions of pregnancy / breeding, mentions of daddy kink, mentions of sa (in the 'no' section), maybe ooc (sorry)

for @skrunklystraycat & touya's bday !!

A — AFTERCARE

Now, Dabi isn't careless, but he wouldn't be as attentive as someone like Keigo. Dabi would clean you up, muttering about a mess on the bed and how he doesn't want to "sleep on a sticky bed". If he is the one who's worn out, he'll have a level of expectation for being doted on. He's an indulgent man when it comes to your attention.

B — BODY PART

Dabi loves your hands and hips. He lobes how he can grab at them and pull you to where he wants you. Having you where he wants when you guys fuck is one of his favorite things. He loves how your hands feel grabbing at him. His hair, his arms, his sides, his own hands, etc. He loves being held by you. Even if you're being rough with him. (ESPECIALLY if you're rough with him.)

C — CUM

Dabi cums a lot. Like, a lot. My god. It's like he holds it in for days before he finally cums. When he paints you white, he really points you white. It's worse when he's edged. Poor Dabi and his cute, sensitive dick.

D — DIRTY SECRET

This isn't exactly a secret, but it doesn't come up since he's a villain, and the consequences would throw a wrench in a lot of plans he has. Dabi has a breeding kink. He doesn't want to be a father in any way, shape, or form, but he can't help how his body reacts. The thought of filling you up raw round after round, finally stopping to see how his cum dribbles out of you. (This is why he never looks after he cums inside you.)

E — EXPERIENCE

Virgin. Pathetic loser virgin who never had pussy or dick. He's not suave. He is not a savant at sex. He's a horny virgin who gets flustered at being called pretty. That man can NOT handle sex in the slightest.

F — FAVORITE POSITION

Cowgirl. Dabi loves laying back and watching you bounce on his dick. You look so pretty when your back arches when he thrusts up into you. It feels good to know he can let you have all the control sometimes. (He will fuck you in missionary if he's jealous, though.)

G —GOOFY

Dabi is fairly serious during sex. His focus is feeling good and making you feel good. Though, in the early stages of your relationship, he's pretty awkward and

H — HAIR

Dabi keeps himself pretty well groomed. He's not the most strict about it, but he doesn't leave it unattended. He really only grooms it once it gets annoying or uncomfortable. It's not like his hair grows that fast there, so he has no routine.

I — INTIMACY

This depends. Dabi likes things rough, intense, and sometimes mean. That's all he's known after all. So, he may not be the most intimate in any way in the beginning. He's a kinky bastard and he knows it. Sex is just sex. The problem with that is the fact that his layers are being peeled back. Slowly, they'll peel, but it happens. He doesn't need to put up a facade. You can bring up the fact that you'd like more intimacy in bed, and he'll acknowledge it, but it'll only be a few weeks later when he finally takes your hand in his. Not to pin you down or pull you in any direction, but to simply hold.

J — JACK OFF

It's not super often Dabi spends time by himself to get off. He only does in certain circumstances. Usually he's fisting his cock like no tomorrow when he misses you. Hell, even when your shirt rides up and your abdomen is exposed. He can't help it. You're perfect in every way. His hand doesn't compare, but he doesn't dare use a toy unless it's on you.

K — KINK

I think Dabi would be into just about anything. Choking, slapping, bondage, primal play, spanking, overstim, etc. He's a versatile man. He'll give and take whatever he is willing to endure.

L — LOCATION

Dabi likes fucking you in risky places. Sure, the privacy of a bedroom is nice, but if he's feeling dominant, he'll do it somewhere like in a stolen car or an alleyway. He likes fucking you in places that

M — MOTIVATION

You.

N — NO

No matter how nonchalant and uncaring Dabi seems, I know he has his limits. I genuinely think he wouldn't be into forcing someone into sex. Does he like control and security? Yes. But anything like a rape fantasy has him turned off instantly. He only hurts people who deserve it and you never deserve it. The only other thing he'd be against is being called 'daddy' or calling someone 'daddy'. It just weirds him out and doesn't do anything for him.

O — ORAL

Ohhh, Dabi loves oral. He loves when he watches you drag your lips over his cock, kissing and suckling on the skin. It's a beautiful sight to him. One of his favorite things to do is hike your legs over his shoulders and let his mouth work on you. It's exhilarating to him. The way your hands tug at his hair (if they're not bound), the way he pulls every little noise from you… There's just something about tasting you on his tongue that gets him going like nothing else.

P — PACE

It's fairly surprising to learn that Dabi takes his time. People would think he's impatient (and he is), but knowing that he has such a limited time as a villain, he likes to savor everything with you. He's a gradual lover. He wants to build the anticipation and watch as it becomes all consuming. Though, Dabi does get a little eager in the end. He needs to see it; the glazed look in your eyes when both of you crumble into each other.

Q — QUICKIE

Dabi lives quickies. He may not be a guy with a high sex drive nor a sex addict, but he can get hard if you push the right buttons. Sometimes, it's involuntary. He has to pull you somewhere secluded, push your clothes aside, and slot his dick between your thighs, moaning into your neck. If he really wants to push it - which he typically does - he'll grind his cock against your hole, slipping his tip in the slightest bit just to feel your warmth.

R — RISK

Dabi loves risk. He loves the idea of someone knowing but not watching. Seeing you fall apart on his dick, legs wrapped around his abdomen is a beautiful sight. No one gets to see, but they can hear. The only time Dabi wouldn't be risky is when he's being submissive. He doesn't want anyone to see him like that. Not that he has a "reputation to uphold," but because you're the only person who knows him. Only you can tell him what to do and he'll listen.

S — STAMINA

Moderate stamina. Hence, his favorite position is being any with him lying or sitting down. Dabi is also a huge fan of lazy fucking, so it's perfect. Though, Dabi has his days where he'll fuck like a crazed animal. Those would be slow days where he can spend a lot of time in his head, imagining every little mark that'd be littered on your skin.

T — TOY

Dabi is not a fan of toys on himself. Well, okay, he does like things such as vibrators and anal plugs. The toys he doesn't like are things like sex dolls or fleshlights. He'd prefer to be inside you than some toy. He did try once, and it was uncomfortable.

U — UNFAIR

He can be unfair sometimes. Dabi loves edging you and teasing you. He can be mean and taunt you. That sickly sweet "there we go, baby" he does when you finally give in and let him have his way.

V — VOLUME

Dabi is not a loud guy. He already strains his voice when yelling, and, in full transparency, he doesn't want anyone to hear him when you fuck. It's a level of vulnerability he wouldn't dare show to anyone besides you. Every gasp, whimper, groan… It's all for you.

W — WILD CARD

Dabi lovesssssssss it when you get violent. Even if you're threatening him. Just your display of power and passion is amazing to him. Dabi is nothing if not a slut for strength.

X — X-RAY

I like to think Dabi is on the smaller side. He's close to average, but not qu

Y — YEARNING

Dabi doesn't seem like the type to have an insanely high sex drive, but it isn't super low. It's moderate to say the least. Sure, at times he'll get unbearably horny, but it is not a common occurrence. His libido does spike once he starts dating you, though. All he does is think about you and he's getting hard. He's a pervert in that sense, I guess.

Z — ZZZ…

Dabi has fairly low stamina. You'd think he'd last long and stay awake, but his staples and skin grafts make it difficult to do rigorous activities for a long period of time. Having sex and doing whatever villainous activity always tires him out fast. Give him ten minutes, and he's out. (In the beginning of your relationship, he did try to stay awake longer because he didn't feel entirely safe yet, and he didn't want you to leave.)

[yemmuis]

u and me malfunctioning over choso 🤝

there is just smthhhhh abt him 😩

OH MY LORD I MISSED THIS

YES U N ME FR 🙏🙏🙏🙏 i saw an edit of him earlier and I’ll see if I can find it and post it later but omg…the things he makes me feel. IF I HAD A DICK AS I ALWAYS SAY MAN

idk what it is abt men with their hair up but HOT DAMN cus the list of them that I adore just keeps growing

anyways..choso! my lil space bun man :)) I love him more than I love bakugo and that’s saying something but god..there really is just somethin in his EYES yk! it’s the tired eyes fr they get me every time :((

[rueclfer]

meet cute // shigaraki tomura smau pt two

when you run into your gaming bestie

a/n: i love u shiggy nation and i love this pathetic loser!! (written under the cut btw)

part one

To be fair, you understood the need for some liquid courage. Before leaving your apartment, you were giddy with the anticipation of meeting your closest friends, but the moment you found yourself outside of his front door, your hands were suddenly clammy.

You gave the door a quick 3 knocks, taking a step back from the doormat.

From the other end, you hear footsteps and scuffling on the floors.

"Let me get the door!" Toga's voice comes through the barrier.

"Fuck no! It's my apartment!" Shigaraki's voice comes in.

The rustling and feet scuffling continues on for a moment while you hear various banging and thumps behind the door.

"You two can actually fuck off!" Spinner swings the door open and quickly slams it shut right behind him to lock the others in. He engulfs you in a hug, picking you up and swinging you around in circles as the others swing the door back open to reveal pouty expressions behind it.

"Hi Spinster!" You squeal, hugging him back with the same grip.

"No fair." Toga mutters, crossing her arms.

After Spinner release you, the rest patiently waited for you to step into the apartment and put your things down before getting their turn to greet you with squeals and laughs.

"We meet again, shortstack." Dabi casually drops a hand on the top of your head, slightly ruffling your hair.

"Hi, 2nd favorite silver haired freak. Not surprised to see that you're wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw you." You swat his arm away before coming in for a hug.

"Not everything. You wanna see?" He cocks a suggestive eyebrow at you.

"Your rancid skid-mark infested tighty whiteys? Pass." You shove him aside to get to Shigaraki, who was patiently waiting up against the wall right behind him.

"Hi, Shiggy." Your voice lowers into the soft greeting, wrapping your arms around him, letting yourself melt in.

You feel him stiffen under you for a moment before reciprocating the embrace, letting himself lean back into you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the nape of your neck

"Hey." He mutters into your hair. "Glad to know I didn't scare you off last time."

"Scare me?" You slightly pull away to look up at him. "You're such a sweet little angel, how could you scare me?"

"Okay, that's enough of that." He rolls his eyes and lightly push you away. "I think you're the one that scared me, actually. Terrifying to have you know where I live now."

"Yeah? Well you better keep your door and windows locked then because no way am I leaving you alone now." You pat him on the chest before turning around and revising the group.

There had been countless evenings where you would ask if anyone was online, looking for their company, but to be met with a void of silence or finding out they were all in person together.

Of course you understood that for a long time, you were the outsider. You were the person who couldn't be reached outside of the screen and yet despite knowing this, a pit continued to grow in your stomach from the loneliness and envy.

Seeing everyone's personality from online shine brighter in person felt like you've won the jackpot. Their beaming faces and screaming competitiveness felt like you had been there this entire time, confirming that this closeless was real after all.

Across from you, you see Shigaraki leaning back on his loveseat and resting a half empty beer can on his knee while he watches you contently, not paying any mind to the progression of the board game that sat in the middle of the living room.

You met his gaze and returned the stare.

"What?" You mouth towards him.

He shrugs. "Nothing." He mouths back.

You two had gotten "killed off" in the elaborate game about 10 minutes ago, forcing you to sit out and wait for the last one standing to take victory before you can move on to the next game. In the meantime, you and Shigaraki resorted to this unspoken staring contest.

Of course after mere seconds, his eyes would dart away from your own, causing you to sport a cocky grin.

"Stop that, you're making me nervous." He kicks your foot.

"I'm bored." You sigh back. "How the fuck did we even die so early in the game."

"Well my reasoning is that I hate this game and purposefully died early so I don't have to play it. You on the other hand, just suck." He takes a sips of his beer before passing it off to you.

"You wanna give me a tour?" You take a swig of the cold, bitter liquid.

He nods his head and stands up, reaching his hands out to help pull you up off the couch. You take one last sip before setting the can down on the side table, taking his hands and letting him hoist you up.

He keeps his pinky interlocked with yours as he leads you down the hallway, making your skin run hot.

It was obvious that physical touch wasn't exactly something that Shigaraki is 100% comfortable with, and you respected that enough to keep physical interactions gentle and to a minimum despite all of the urges you had to just wrap your body around him and devour him whole.

You remember when you first spotted him at the cafe. He stood at the other side of the room texting each other back and forth for a good minute before mustering up the courage to take a seat at your table. You took note of his trembling hands, but he had the widest smile on his face, in which the memory of is probably tattooed to your brain at this point.

Though he still refuses to turn on his face cam while gaming, you don't seem to mind it as much anymore after meeting him.

"That's Dabi's room. Mine is this way." He motions to the door to the right end of the hallway before leading you to the left.

"Go easy on him, Y/N, he's a virgin!" Dabi calls out from the living room, followed by giggles and laughter from the others.

You tried to choke down your laugh until you saw a slight smirk grow on his face as he shakes his head. "He's lying by the way."

Your ears go hot, still nervously chuckling as you enter his room.

Dark, as expected. Blackout curtains were an essential to gamers, but you wondered when the last time this room has seen sunlight.

"Brace yourself." You warn a second before pulling back the curtains, illuminating the room. You turn around to see that it was just as you expected his room to look like- various video game and anime posters, and a display shelf of figurines- the typically dorky memorabilia that he always gushed to you about on voice call.

You blew a whistle at his elaborate PC setup and took a seat in his chair, letting your hands run over the keyboard and trinkets sitting on the desk.

"So this is where the magic happens." You swivel around to see him flopped down on his bed, letting his head hang upside down over the edge to look at you. "Let me know what aimbot software you downloaded now that I'm here, yeah?

He rolls his eyes, half chuckling. "Never beating the aimbot allegations just means I'm that good. This is everything you expected it to be?" He replies.

"Definitely cleaner." You tease, getting a scoff from him in return. "Just as cute and dorky as I expected, though." You smile, scooting the chair closer to him, noticing the faint pink blush formed across his cheeks.

"You feel okay with me being here?" You take a finger and brush a stray piece of hair off his forehead. "Not freaking out like last time?"

"Maybe internally, but I think I got most of that out." He reaches up and grabs your hand to hold into his. "You feel okay? Being here? And seeing me?"

"Of course I do." You gripped his hand back, letting yourself interlock your fingers with his. "It's fulfilling in some way? I don't know. I'm happy to have met you. You've been my best friend and I didn't think I'd be able to meet you for a long time."

You liked him so much, much more than you'd like to admit. For a long time, you wanted nothing more than to be able to hold his hand like this or or even breathe the same air as him and now that you were here, you weren't sure where to go with your feelings from this point.

You often wondered if he felt the same about you. There had been more than enough restless nights with half delirious conversations to solidify your friendship with each other, but did he want you the way you wanted him?

"Me too." He mutters silently. "Do you...think we can do this again sometime soon? Maybe at your place next time or here, I don't really care. Just us though. We'll ditch these dumbasses."

"Oh? You actually like my real life company?"

He presses his lips together in response.

Obviously, expressing his emotions didn't quite come to him as easily as it did for you, but you saw the efforts nonetheless and could never pass on the opportunity to tease him for it.

"Jokes, Shigs." You laugh. "You sappy motherfucker, of course we can do this again- me and you."

"It's a date then."

Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open without a single word or sound coming out. It was usual for you to shamelessly flirt with him, but for a bold proposition like that to come out of his mouth made your limbs go weak.

Shigaraki clearly had the same reaction with the way he reach over to grab a pillow to smother against his face, hiding his nervous coughs and giggles.

"Wait no no no, don't get embarrassed." You laugh, jumping on the bed to try and rip the pillow off. "It's a date! Say it again for me."

"Fuck off!" He yells into the pillow. "I didn't say shit."

You successfully rip the pillow away from his hands and pin his arms down with your own. He had a panicked smile on his lips, his face cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"Say it again." You lean closer to his face, making his eyes widen at the sudden close proximity. "And then I'll leave you alone."

There was a beat of silence while you held his arms above his head as you slowly inch your face closer to his.

"I want to go on a date with you, and I don't want you to leave me alone." He says like he's holding in his breath. "And if you lean in any closer, I might just explode." He squeaks out.

You smile, pausing for a second before leaning in to plant a kiss on the space right under his eye. Soft, slow, and sensual.

You stayed there for a moment just to see his face flush into a deeper shade of red and eyes grow wider before hopping off the bed and exiting back out to the living room.

"Do your thing, then hurry up. I want to play more games."

bonus:

[probablysimpledreams]

So Fuckin' Gorgeous (Dabi x reader: NSFW)

a/n: man oh man I have been ITCHING to write for my man and the time has come<333 nothing more to say than I need him bad and enjoy this <3

cw: smut lol, more female reader (usage of "baby girl," clit, etc), rough Dabi, spanking, submissive reader, light bondage (it's just tying wrists together lol), once again rough Dabi there is lots of mentions of pain

wc: 1247

Date nights were not common in your relationship. This fact had nothing with your relationship status, but rather his criminal status. As nice as a fancy dinner or trip to a museum would be together, not too many places were looking to serve the highly sought after criminal, Dabi, and his "pretty little victim" (the name the media has given you after photos were leaked of you two together one night). Besides, Dabi didn't see much need for official date nights as the two of you already lived together so most days were spent together. That meant every night was date night in his eyes, which is exactly why you argued you two needed more date nights. You explained to him that having a special dinner or event to enjoy together every so often was good for the relationship and kept things interesting. While he did not fully understand this line of thinking, he could tell it was important to you. And despite his complaints, Dabi often found it hard to say no to you.

This brings us to how he ended up messing with his tie in the bathroom mirror, trying to get it straight as he mumbled how stupid it was for him to be dressed up to eat dinner at some rundown villain owned bar. His annoyance was short lived however as he steps out of the bathroom to see you sitting patiently on the bed, all dressed up for the night's activities. Since it was uncommon for you two to go out, you rarely got dressed up around him. What was the point of putting on your best outfit if you two were just going to be on the couch? Besides, it's not like your clothes were going to stay on or intact when around Dabi, so what you wore truly never mattered.

"You clean up nice," you teased as you stood up, approaching him. He always looked good, but seeing him all dressed up had an effect on you that you were not expecting. The sight and scent of his cologne had your mind dizzy, making him grin.

"Could say the same 'bout you," his voice was low as he eyes scanned up and down your body. It was clear you being dressed up had the same effect on him as he licked his lips, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. His hands grip your waist, slowly ushering you to walk backwards back towards the bed. The way you looked up at him so innocent and small, inviting him to ruin you, had his cock twitching in his tight slacks. "So fucking pretty," he begins kissing your neck, pushing your body down against the mattress. You gasp as he bites down on your sensitive skin, body feeling hot from the heat he radiates and your growing arousal. You notice he's moving slower than usual, making you whine. You spread your legs, inviting his body to move closer as your hands move to pull at his neatly combed back hair. A deep grunt leaves his mouth before biting down harder on your neck, chuckling as you cry out his name and grind against his growing erection. "Need somethin' doll?" he teases, hand leaving the tight grip on your hips as he slides your underwear to the side to rub circles against your clit.

"N-need more of you," you whine, body shaking against his rough touch. "Need all of you, Touya." He groans at how his name rolls off your tongue so hungrily and lovingly. The way you desire him, crave him drives him wild.

"Fuck doll," he begins undoing his belt, eager to free his hard cock. "You're so sexy all needy like this," he begins undoing his tie, eyes never leaving yours. He chuckles as you eagerly remove the rest of your clothes, not wanting to wait a second longer for him to be inside you. "Could just eat you up. Now, ass up baby girl. Arms behind your back too."

You don't waste a second as you flip your position, following his orders. He gives your ass a hard slap, licking his lips as you cry out from the pain, a small tear rolling down your cheek as the sting provides an overwhelming sense of pain and pleasure to course through your body. He grabs your wrists that fell back to your side after the spank and ties them together behind your back with his tie. "Ready doll?" he asks. Once your nod a yes, a hand yanks your hair to push your face into the mattress. You scream as he slams into you, other hand squeezing your waist to keep himself steady. Each thrust becomes rougher and rougher as he pulls his cock in and out of you. Your words are lost in the mattresses as he grip on your hair is strong, keeping you face down. Your back arches, leaving him with a perfect view of your ass. "F-fuck baby. Such a pretty fuckin' body...perfect ass..pretty needy cunt..f-fuck," he rambles as his cock pushes deeper and deepening inside you. "Love this fucking cunt." You squirm against the restraints wanting desperately to grab the mattress, anything to ground yourself. He smirks at your squirming, finding twisted joy in seeing your struggle as he takes you all for himself.

"What baby?" he asks, voice low and laced with lust as he yanks your head up from the mattress. Your face is flushed, cheeks stained with tears as you breathe heavily. You're unable to respond to him fully, just cries of his name and pleasured moans able to leave your lips. It's all too much; the lack of control over your body, his cock stuffing you, the pain in your scalp from his rough tugs. And you love every second of it. "What? Can't answer my question? Fuckin ya too good? Going all dumb on me?" He's completely lost in the pleasure. The way your body reacts to his movements have him losing his cool more and more. A deep groan leaves his throat as he feels you clench around him, knowing you were moments away from coming undone completely. "F-fuck ______. You feel so good. So gorgeous."

He drops your head so the hand can return to rubbing your clit like earlier. The rough movements and rough thrusts sent you into your climax, crying his name as your vision blurred from pleasure and tears. He doesn't slow down, fucking you hard through your orgasam. It doesn't take long after you for him to fill you up, squeezing your waist tight as he finishes inside you. You collapse on the bed as he pulls out. He chuckles at your exhausted body and expression before picking you up, getting onto the bed and letting you lay on his chest. He runs his finger softly through your hair, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as you work to catch your breath.

"I'm starting to see why you argued so hard for date nights," he joked as he kept playing with your hair, free hand reaching for the nearby cigarette box. "Should do these more often."

"Maybe next time we will even make it to dinner," you joked back.

"What?" he moved so quick you barely had time to process that he was now onto of you, your wrist once again being restrained by him. He looked down at you with that same mischievous grin from earlier, making you gulp. "Hungry for more doll?"

[mango-bango-bby]

Hi! Is it okay if I request platonic Yandere LOV with Dabi’s sister? Like they fight over who gets to babysit her while Dabi run errands? Thank you! I love your content!

♡ Babysitter ♡

(A/N: I genuinely love platonic LOV so much!! I’ve been getting so many platonic bnha request’s lately and I love it so much!! It’s the best for comfort 💞)

Content Warning ⚠️: Yandere, platonic yandere, children, the league fighting over reader, reader cries

Summary:  Dabi has to leave for an errand, so the league has to babysit you (Yan!platonic!brother!Dabi x GN!child!reader + Platonic!LOV x GN!child!reader)

Masterlist ➸ ♡

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Dabi did his best to take care of you. He did the best he could with his lifestyle. You stayed in the leagues hideout most of the time, almost never going out. You were still pretty young and stayed away from the outside, as your brother advised you to. 

He actually trusted most of the league around you, some of the villains that would visit weren’t as trusted then he would keep you locked up in your room. He knew the ones he trusted though, he knew they wouldn’t hurt you.

“I’m going out” Dabi says, placing you down on the couch. “You’re in charge, watch Y/n” He says, leaving the underground bar. He had noticed that your roots were starting to grow back in. Although not healthy for your hair, he couldn’t risk your identity being even some what findable through your fiery red hair that you got from your father. So he needed to go get more hair dye.

All of the villains in the room look at you as you sit with your toys in your lap. You just play with your small lego’s, not even noticing that your brother had left. The only problem was that no one knew who exactly he was talking to.

“Hehe, c’mon Y/n, let’s go paint your nails” Himiko giggles going to pick you up, only to be interrupted by Spinner. “Don’t leave, I’m supposed to be watching them” He whines, watching Himiko hold you. She only blinks at him.

“No, I’m watching them! I’m they’re favorite! Y/n loves spending time with their auntie Himiko! Isn’t that right, cutie?” She says, blowing a raspberry on your stomach before putting you back down on the couch to play with your toys.

“He left me in charge” Tomura mumbles, his eyes focused on his game on the TV. “What? Why would you be in charge?” Spinner asks, Tomura rolling his eyes. “Because I’m the leader” He says as if it were obvious.

Kurogiri sighs from behind the bar while cleaning glasses. “You all are so immature, that’s why he left me to watch them” He says, earning huffs from around the room.  But they’re cut off by a small knock on a door.

“Dabi?” you say, knocking on his door. None of them were watching, you had left to the hallway. “Dabi” you say walking into the room, looking everywhere, even under the bed as if he could fit under there. “Where’s Dabi?” you whine, walking back into the lounge area, still looking for him. You were still very young but you could speak with very small sentences. 

“He’s not here” Tomura states, not even thinking before saying it. “No-“ You whine, balling up your fist as tears start welling up in your eyes. “No, no, please don’t cry” Spinner panics, Himiko also trying to comfort you but it only makes you cry more. 

“I want Dabi!” You cry, Dabi facepalming as he walks through the door with a box of hair dye in his hand. He walks by swooping you up into his arms. 

“Can’t even leave you alone with them for five minutes” He huffs, carrying you off to your room as your crying calms now that he’s here. 

This only causes another fight, they never did find out exactly who he was talking to.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵ Thank you for reading, darling!!

[thelittlegirlinwonderland]

What I'd Change about MHA

firstly, i'd put monoma in 1-a. i'd replace sato b/c i hate his character design and does he even do anything?

i'd make aizawa more of a stoic, scary looking guy but he just wants what's best for these kids. he doesn't lie to them or use ruses but he tends to push more and seems like a hardass to prepare them for the cutthroat life of heroics

i'd flesh out the characters more, their backstories, why they want to be heroes. i'd also build their relationships more. give them time to bond, spend time together outside of school without a disaster happening. filler type stuff

i like most of the plot up until the war arc, so i'd probably keep it, changing small things like stain. i think i'd make stain a former hero, like lady nagant, who saw corruption in his field and decided to handle it in the most extreme way. i would either get rid of stain attacking tensei or have it be a 'wrong place, wrong time' scenario where tensei found stain attempting to kill a different hero and wouldn't leave(similar to midoriya running in to save tenya)

ofa is one of the things about the og that annoys me. firstly, more than 9 users. probably 11-13. if it's supposed to be 2-3 hundred years since quirks, 9 doesn't make sense. especially since the first 3 were all around the same age and most of them died young. i'd also have more diverse users and quirks. i hate fa jin and gearshift, and danger sense and smokescreen don't make sense. blackwhip and float are great quirks. expand on the users' pasts as well. why were they chosen? what did they do with the quirk when they had it? also more izuku/vestige scenes. no random bakugou look alike user

i'd change a lot of the villain's stories. i'd change toga to actually be a victim of the system instead of just a blood-crazed lunatic. she was starved and didn't understand her cravings until she snapped and accidentally killed a classmate. from there, she's treated like a monster and pushed into the league who help her get the blood she needs which calms her down significantly. no wanting to become the people she loves and creepy harrasment of izuku and ochaco. just make her a scared teenage girl with no one else to go

as for shigaraki, when afo gets arrested show a slow change in his thought process, behavior, and lifestyle as he adjusts to life without the man who had been grooming and abusing him his entire life. make him realize afo isn't a helpful sensei but rather manipulating him. have him grow and reject afo and his ideas. have him start forming his own ideas of how he wants to change society

dabi is a tough one. i think i'd make him ostracized from his entire family. he had the quirk but not the body or mind for heroics. enji rejects him, rei can't stand his ambition, natsuo and fuyumi don't have anything in common and so he pushes them away, shoto is the masterpiece. this makes him more sullen and closed off. i'd have him run away instead of nearly dying and being save by afo. when he finds the league, he starts to open up more and develops more of a personality in this new family.

i wouldn't make kurogiri oboro. i think i'd scrap oboro as a whole. kurogiri is still a nomu but he has no ties to any heroes.

i'd have more people die in the war. more important heroes like all might, miruko, edgeshot, jeanist etc. bakugo stays dead, it's a tragedy that even someone as strong as him can't always win. maybe parents, friends, past classmates of the students because this is a war, collateral is going to happen. gran torino also should've died.

izuku: -make izuku's hair slowly turn white after he gets ofa so by the end it is completely white. this can be due to stress, having multiple quirks, getting a quirk when he didn't have one, etc. -all for one is his dad. this can explain why izuku can wield all of the past users' quirks, he's built to have multiple. now, this doesn't make afo a good person suddenly. he's still the man who groomed tenko and killed countless. maybe he just makes kids every now and then to get/make new quirks. it's just a game to him, he doesn't care about izuku or inko but it give izuku more personal stakes. -lean into izuku's analysis and intelligence more. -make monoma part of his friend group and have them bond over quirk analysis. -i think i'd make Mic his tutor. like how aizawa saw shinsou and decided to train him, mic sees izuku and his destructive quirk and decides to do something about it.

[bakugotrashpanda]

Touya x Reader Word Count: 1.4k

!!: angst

A/N: this started out when I realized I didn’t write anything for Dabi’s birthday and then saw /tartaufraiz’s art on twitter and my brain took off with it. It wasn’t supposed to be this much angst, but I started listening to Logical (Olivia Rodrigo) and uh. Here we are. Just kind of wrote with this one, hopefully everything's in order and makes sense.

Your ex shows up the day after his birthday.

Punching in the code to your apartment, the front door to the building swings open with a creak. You pull your scarf down from your cheeks and let the semi-warm air heat them up. Giving your boots a good couple stomps to get rid of the snow and ice built up underneath, you head over to the elevator. 

You shuffle your grocery bags around and hit the button, sighing as you regain feeling in your face and fingers from the cold.

“You’re late,” a voice you had hoped to never hear again rings out to your right. Closing your eyes you pray that when you turn no one will be there. Deep breath in. Hold. And out.

Ding.

Metal doors in front of you slide open. You should get on – spam the door close button. Ignore what should be a voice in your head. Ignore the way your heart beat a little faster. 

But you can’t.

The elevator closes.

You turn to the stairs. Slow down. The little voice in your head warns you that you’re not ready to see him; you need to prepare yourself – put your walls up again. Turn faster, idiot. An even louder voice in your head screams at you. Consequences be damned, you need to see him.

When your eyes land on him, built up exhilaration clashes with years of pent up and pushed down sadness. White hair partially covers eyes that stole your heart and years of your life. His dark blue windbreaker won’t do much to keep the cold out, but then again, he always ran warm when you dated. He takes a deep drag of his cigarette before standing.

Your words are automatic. How many times had the two of you fought about lost security deposits because of smoke damage? “You can’t smoke in here.”

He arches an eyebrow but stubs the cigarette out on the stairs. “That’s the first thing you say to me?”

You sigh. “Touya, what’re you doing here?”

He shrugs and meanders over to you. Standing side by side he hits the elevator call button. “You didn’t wish me a happy birthday.”

“And?”

“Wanted to make sure you weren’t dead or something.”

“Could’ve been a text.”

He scoffs. “You’d’ve answered?”

Ding.

You get in the elevator and Touya follows. He pushes your floor before you can. It takes off with a slight jolt. Mechanical whirring fills an ever-growing tense silence. Questions and arguments you’ve wanted to have with him swirl around your mind.

In a desperate attempt to break the unbearable tension, you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind. “I thought you’d be busy in some other woman’s bed right now.”

Smooth. 

So fucking smooth.

He lets out a short bark of a laugh. “That was yesterday. Ya know, on my actual birthday.”

The elevator shudders to a stop and you leave first. Touya trails behind you silently like a shadow.

You finally ask what he’s doing here when your keys are in the door.

“Guess I missed hearing from you,” he says and leans against the wall.

“We broke up years ago.” The tang of bitterness in your voice betrays the calm demeanor you hope you’ve been projecting.

“And?”

“You’re unbelievable.”

He nods at your almost unlocked door. “Are you going to invite me in? Or do your neighbors get a front row seat to whatever you got to say to me?”

You bite your tongue but turn the key, opening the door for him. With a grand sweep of your arm, you wave him in. The subtle scent of his cologne washes over you as he passes. 

Still the same scent he wore when we were together.

You plop the grocery bags on the counter and shuck your winter coat and scarf. When you return from hanging them up near the front door, you see him quietly unpacking your bags.

It’s a domesticity you rarely got from him before. When you were together you would’ve asked him for help unloading the groceries and gotten into an argument about it which would lead to another fight about splitting chores evenly as well as how money was spent. 

But here he is, your ex, in your kitchen putting food he’s not going to eat away without being asked and without complaint.

Folding the bags neatly, he opens the fridge and stops. From the entrance to the kitchen you can see something in his eyes. A myriad of emotions pass over his face – his brows pushing together. A question on the tip of his tongue. Lids lowering as he thinks. A slight frown. An unhappy sigh.

You know what he saw. And you have no excuse for it.

Should’ve kicked him out when I had the chance. 

Touya pulls out a small cake. It could fit in the palm of his hand. Pearly white frosting adorned with a single glazed strawberry. 

A habit you never cared to break. 

An accidental annual purchase.

A birthday cake. 

A secret now out in the open. 

“It’s-

“A habit,” you interrupt. “A bad one.”

“So you do think of me.”

The Touya you dated your first year of college would’ve been pleased — strutted around like a peacock and teased you a little. Not enough for you to get mad, but enough to start riling you up. But this one, the man in front of you now… you can’t quite put your finger on it. Is it a spark of hope in his eye? Maybe a quiet determination as he figures out where you stand? Or is it sorrow as he reminisces about the past?

Regardless, you can’t lie. Not to him. “Of course I do.”

“You miss me.” It’s not a question but rather a statement, and it pierces through the shoddy walls you surround yourself with. “Say it.”

You jerk your head up to find his eyes locked on you. “What?”

“You heard me. Say it. That you miss me.” His voice is rough, and the cake… that stupid little cake still sits in the palm of his hand. 

“I do. I miss you.” If he looked closely, he’d find traces of himself hidden in plain sight. A coat in your closet. A book on your nightstand. A lighter next to your candles. “And what about you?”

It’s the first time all night you’ve seen him hesitate. “We could try again.”

“We didn’t work Touya,” you smile sadly. “Maybe in another life we could’ve been happy, but not this one. It’s too late.”

Too much was said and we can’t take it back.

He sets the cake on the counter amidst your forgotten groceries and opens cupboards until he finds what he’s looking for. Taking a single candle, he gently places it next to the strawberry and lights it. 

“Make a wish,” you murmur.

A smirk ghosts across his lips. “I always wish for the same thing.” He bends so he’s level with the candle. The warm flame illuminates the contours of his face and reflects off the piercings he’s accumulated over the years. With a quick gust, the candle goes out leaving a wispy trail of smoke behind. You both stare at it. 

In the past, you would’ve hugged him and peppered him with kisses – asked him what he wished for and then told him not to tell you or it wouldn’t come true. He would’ve kissed your forehead and told you that superstition was stupid. But that was then and this is now.  

Uncomfortable familiarity settles around you like a wet blanket. You cross your arms over your chest. 

“You should go,” you whisper. Or else one of us will do something we both regret. You take a risk and flick your eyes up to his. Your pain is reflected in his gaze.

“Answer your damn texts next time.”

“Maybe,” you shrug. That would require unblocking his number.

He mimics your shrug. “Then maybe I’ll be around again.”

“Goodbye, Touya,” you roll your eyes and let out a little laugh.

He approaches you like you would a wounded animal. Carefully. Tenderly. Reaching out slowly so that it can run away if it wants to. But you stay there and let his hand find your waist, a familiar warmth spreading under his contact. His other hand cups your cheek, and ever so slowly, he leans in. 

You meet him halfway for a chaste kiss. He doesn’t push for more, knowing he’s pressing his luck as it is.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. His thumb brushes your cheek one last time before he pulls away.

“Until next time.”

“Goodbye, Touya.” 

Picture in banner by takuya_n on unsplash

[thehusbandoden]

Hii, i really liked the claustrophobic reader story. Could you write a part 2 with other characters? (Bakugo, Todoroki, Kirishima, Denki)🥺🥺

A/n: of course! I'm so glad you liked the first part, I hope these are just as enjoyable! Don't be afraid to request again at any time! <33

Comforting Claustrophobic Reader Part Two

(Bakugo, Shoto, Kiri, and Denki)

Genre: fluff/comfort \\ total word count: 1,911 \\ posted: 12/07/2023 \\ requested

Notice!: I don't know much about claustrophobia so I'm sorry if I offend anyone!

Warnings!: claustrophobia, tight spaces, crowds, y/n being flirted on (but not really), a chick trying to get eith Shoto, and a scatterbrained partner (lol). Please let me know if I miss any! <3

Part One (Dabi, Spinner, and Shigaraki)

Part Three (Tamaki)

Bakugo Katsuki (455 words)

"Stupid extras." Bakugo murmured, banging his fist against the door.

You and Bakugo were just locked inside of the small janitor closet together, and by the sound of it, it was Denki and Mina's doing.

The small room and the feeling of Bakugo's warm back pressed against your chest was starting to give you a panic attack. Your breathing was growing heavier and you were starting to sweat.

You could hear Bakugo's voice in the distance, but you couldn't focus on it. You started hypervenelating.

"What's wrong with you?" Bakugo growled, throwing a judgemental look over his shoulder. His crimson eyes slightly softened at the sight of your panic.

"I-I-I need a-air." You pant, your hands beginning to shake.

"Woah woah. Calm down." Bakugo demanded, turning around. You were pressed further against the wall and your eyes welled up with tears.

"Don't move!" You hiss, your hands shaking further.

"Calm down.. please." Bakugo murmured, not knowing what to do.

You violently shake you head, not knowing how to express yourself.

"Shhhh." Bakugo murmured, slowly caressing your head, trying to calm you down. "Can I hold you?"

You nodded, unable to say anything else.

Bakugo immediatly pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands running up and down your shoulders comfortingly.

You focussed on Bakugo's warmth, listening to his deep voice murmur to you. Your breathing started to slow as you clung to him, greatful for the lack of walls pressing against you.

After a few minutes you started to calm down further, sighing as you rest your head agaisnt his broad chest. Bakugo made a small coughing sound before starting to slowly pet your hair.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong now?" He murmured, his voice low and deep.

"I'm claustrophobic." You murmur, burying your face in his chest. He smelt good.. almost like campfire.

"I'm sorry, y/n." He murmured, tilting your chin up to look into his crimson eyes.

"Sorry for what?" You were entranced by his powerful gaze.

"Those idiotic extras put us in here to try and make me.." his cheeks turned a slight hue of pink. "Confess."

"C-confess?" Your mouth opened slightly.

He nodded, his ears also changing color.

"I-I really like you y/n.." he whispered, looking down at you with his intense crimson eyes.

"Y-you do?" Your cheeks were stained with dark red.

"Yes.. I do." He whispered, caressing your cheek.

You slightly leaned into the touch, making him smirk.

"Do you like me back?" He purred in your ear, causing your face to grow hotter.

You nodded, your face flushed in both embaresment and attraction.

"Can I take you out then?" He smirked, playing with your hair.

"Why yes.. I'd like that.."

Todoroki Shoto (555 words)

Shoto was too busy talking to his coworker to notice how stressed you were. He knew about your phobia, but he's never seen it in affect. You've been married for two months, together for eleven.

You were currently at a pro hero gathering. Some of the top heroes were there, and their fans and some newer ones filled in the space.

There were people everywhere.. and you were tired of feeling trapped. As a woman accidently brushed against you, you pressed yourself against Shoto's back, burying your face into his dress shirt.

He didn't say anything, but you could feel his hand reaching behind him to touch your waist, holding you agaisnt him. You started to have a panic attack, gently tapping Shoto to try and get his attention.

Everytime you did he gently squeezed your waist in response, almost like he thought that you were just giving him affection... as a hero passed by you too close for comfort, you pinched Shoto's skin, finally getting his attention as he turned to look at you, looking both confused and slightly irritated.

"What is it love?" He murmured, wrapping his arms around you as he leaned his ear against your mouth, knowing that you prefer to speak to him and only him.

"M-my phobia... it's acting up and I feel like I can't breathe..." You whisper, hiding your face from everyone but Shoto.

Shoto frowned, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"I apologize, love. I'll be more vigilant next time." He murmured in your ear, kissing your temple softly as he slowly brought you towards the exit, shielding your body with his.

"Shoto! Shoto it's you! I'm your biggest fan!" A woman screeched, pressing herself against Shoto's arm. She held onto his arm tightly, hugging herself against it.

You started to hyperventilating, and Shoto wrinkled in nose in disgust. He didn't mean to be rude.. but feeling anyone's touch besides yours caused him to want to hurl.. especially if it was someone like her.. obsessed fangirls who don't respect the fact that he's happily married.

Shoto gently pushed her away, frowning.

"I'm glad you admire me, but keep to yourself. I have a wife, and shes all I'll ever need."

The woman teared up before bursting into sobs, running towards the other side of the room. Shoto quickly pulled you out of the building, embracing you tightly when he found a quite and open place for the two of you.

"Shhh it's okay my love. I'm sorry.." he murmured, littering kisses up and down your face.

"It's okay.. just hold me." You whimpered, wanting to be drowned in his warmth.

He quickly obeyed, holding you against him for several minutes. He didn't care how long it took you to calm down, as long as you felt safe he would be happy.

After about ten minutes you calmed down kissing him softly in gratitude. He kissed back with a smile before pulling away, stroking your cheeks. "Sorry about that 'fan'." Shoto sighed, kissing your nose.

You playfully huffed before kissing his own nose. "It wasn't your fault. You rejected her and got her off of you.. I'm not mad at you."

Shoto smiled wider, kissing you yet again.

"And I'm sorry for not noticing. I'll do better next time, my love."

You smiled again. "I trust you."

Kirishima Eijiro (359 words)

You and Kirishima were on vacation for your first year anniversary. You stayed in a large, luxurious hotel, and were pampered quite a lot.

You and Kirishima spent most of your time in your hotel room, but decided to go down to the hot springs in the morning.

Luckily Kiri was able to get you two a private spring, so you two were alone. The warm water felt amazing, and Kirishima's wide grin as he told you stories was contagious.

After a few hours of chatting and relaxing, the two of you dried off and got ready to leave. As you walked back to your hotel room, there were far more people than before. You didn't think about it much, holding Kiri's hand as you smiled politely at whoever looked at you and wrinkled your nose at the several guys that looked at you longingly.

Kirishima isn't extremely jealous, so he kept to himself, smiling down at you as you walked; smirking as he saw you wrinkle your nose at every flirt.. causing him to gape in shock.

You get to the elevator, and you fail to notice the very tight space when you walk in. It wasn't until you were forced against Kiri's side, a wall, and an old lady that smelt like kitty litter did you notice the tight space and start to react.

Kirishima instantly noticed and pulled you to his chest, moving himself so you wouldn't touch anyone else, and you wouldn't have to look either. Your back was facing the wall, one of Kiri's hands behind your back so you wouldn't brush against it as he held eye contact with you, smiling softly.

He didn't press himself against you, but he was quite close. A lot of people grumbled at him but he ignored them, his free hand stroking your cheek to maintain your undivided attention.

After several minutes you reached your floor and Kiri cradled you to his chest, walking out with you as he made sure that you weren't touched by anyone or anything else.

He continued to hold you as he made his way to your sweet, opening the door with one hand while the other held you by your waist. Once you two were in he let go of you, smiling down at you.

"Thank you.." you smile, caressing his cheek. Kirishima's smile widened as he gave you his signature grin.

"It was nothing." He kissed you sweetly, rubbing your shoulders slightly. Pulling away, he winked at you before heading into the small kitchen that was attached to the sweet.

You giggled as you sat at the island, watching him tie on his 'kiss the chef' apron. He grinned at you, his ruby eyes sparkling in adoration.

"Hungry?"

Kaminari Denki (542 words)

You have no idea how your clingy boyfriend convinced you to go to a party.. but he did.

And now you were surrounded by a bunch of strangers, and that idiotic boyfriend of yours let go of your hand.

You were swarmed by complete strangers, and you can't find the one person you know... lovely.

Your breathing quickened as you felt bodies being pressed against your own, a few rare apologies thrown into the mix.

You were starting to have a panic attack as you searched for Denki in the crowd, trying to spot his bright yellow hair. You looked for several minutes until you spotted him. Hurrying to his side, you hugged him from behind.. and then you realized that it wasn't him.

The man smirked at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Before he could say or do anything, you hurried away, pushing through the crowd. After getting within a safe distance, you tried calling him.. it went straight to voicemail.

You hands started to shake as you tried and found an exit, needing to calm down. As you get to the exit you hear Denki calling your name, but you ignore him, leaving the building.

You find a secluded area and slowly sink to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Denki rushed to you a few minutes later, his eyes full of confusion and worry.

"Y/n!? What's wrong?" He tries to touch your shoulder but you push his hand away.

"Y/n my darling sunshine.. please..." He whispered, his eyes growing wet as he kneeled beside you.

"I told you about my phobia." You whisper, eyes welling up with tears.

"Phobia.. what phobia..?"

"I have claustrophobia Denki! And you just left me in there!" A few tears fell down your cheek.

Denki's eyes widened. "I'm sorry.. I-I didn't know.."

"I told you! Twice before the party and like three times when we first started dating!"

"I'm sorry! It must have been my adhd.." he whispered, gently placing his warm hand on your cheek.

Sighing, you lean into his touch, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks.

"I'm sorry baby.. I really really am.."

"I told you I didn't want to go.. and you promised to hold my hand the entire time.."

"I'm really really sorry baby.. really I am. I got distracted, I'm so so so sorry.." he whispered, gently kissing your tears away.

You blushed at the contact, the two of you were still new to physical affection.

"I need you to remember next time.. okay?"

"There won't be a next time.. I won't try and make you go to a party ever again."

You smiled, giggling quietly. "We'll see.. you forget things a lot."

~~~~~

Part One (Dabi, Spinner, Shigaraki)

Masterlist | Navigation | You can tip me here <3

Bakugo's masterlist | Shoto's masterlist | Kiri's masterlist | Denki's masterlist

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated <33

~~~~~

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way -minus reblogging.

[sarahjtv]

My Hero Academia: Chapter 424 Spoiler Thoughts:

MHA is finally back from break and we have a calm after the storm chapter. Let me put my thought on Tumblr for a bit:

So, let's get this out of the way: Tomura Shigaraki/Tenko Shimura is dead. Like, DEAD, dead. Unless Kohei Horikoshi pulls the rug under us, I think he's made it clear that Tenko's not coming back. Those last 2 pages were it for his conclusion. He did add one more panel of Shiggy and some dialogue from Deku to say that maybe Deku really did "save" Tenko, but that's all we got. I'm still unsure how to feel about this, but I appreciate Horikoshi giving Tenko a bit more of a conclusion after the last chapter. But, the story isn't over yet, so we'll see if he's mentioned again.

Bakugo's parts were the best parts of this chapter. I'm glad to see him alive and well after everything (I highly doubt Horikoshi would keep him dead again anyway) and that his parents are there for him (Mitsuki yelling at him was funny ngl). Sucks that his right arm will never fully recover, but maybe that rehab will help him get to a good enough place. Also, his moments with Deku and All Might were incredibly sweet and a great conclusion to their little storyline. Seeing Bakugo genuinely tear up and look back on his and Deku's relationship throughout the years honestly moved me because it shows how far this young man has come (the artwork on his face is so good btw; Horikoshi has always been great at expressions in particular). Katsuki Bakugo's character development is one of my favorites in the series and he deserves #1 in every character poll he gets.

EDIT: OH, BAKUGO'S CRYING OVER DEKU BEING QUIRKLESS AGAIN AFTER THE EMBERS BURN OUT ONE DAY I'M GOING TO FUCKING CRY WHAT THE FUCK 😭

Deku continues to be Deku till the very end. I loved Izuku nerding out about how he gets to share a hospital room with All Might because of course he would. It's also nice to hear that A.) All Might reassures Deku that even though he doesn't feel like he saved Tenko because Tenko died, he still might have in the end and B.) Deku still has the embers of One For All which doesn't make him Quirkless. I assume this means that Deku is basically back at the start when he first got OFA. I'm sure his strength is still there at least, but it's probably not nearly as powerful as it was in the final battle.

Also, Deku's haircut 😭! I know they had to do it because it got messed up in the final battle and surgery, but please let his hair grow again before the manga ends, Horikoshi! I want his cute, bushy green hair back! There's also a scar on his right cheek covering his cute freckles I can't. His eyeball popping out of his socket when he sees Kacchan cry was hilarious, though 😂

All Might also telling Deku and Bakugo that they're the greatest heroes to him and everyone else is a really nice full circle on their initial dreams when the story started.

And then there are the two panels we get of Shoto and Ochako. I assume we'll touch on their epilogues next chapter, but I'm curious how they're doing because Ochako looks solemn and we don't even see Shoto's face because his back is turned to us in a dark light. I bet they're reflecting on what happened to Toga and Dabi respectively. We're still not sure if either of them really died, so it's a coin flip as to whether they did or not. There's also Shoto's whole family situation that needs tying up which is a whole other can of worms. I really hope this gets covered in the next chapter.

Finally, we see Deku and the others returning to UA which is currently being rebuilt. I'm guessing we'll see how everyone else is doing post-war too either in the next chapter or later. While we need to cover the main 4 (Izuku, Bakugo, Shoto, and Ochako), we also need to see how everyone else is doing because they weren't the only ones affected by the war. Everyone has battle scars of some kind.

And while the chapter is called "Epilogue", it's not over yet. We clearly have more story to cover and bows to tie as neatly as possible. Horikoshi can't please everyone (no one can, really), but I can tell that he's doing his best and that he still genuinely cares about his story after nearly 10 years. I'd say we have the rest of June at least and the end of summer at most until MHA finally ends. This was a really nice "wrap-up" chapter and we have more to go until the end. Despite its flaws, My Hero Academia is still peak fiction to me and some of the parts in this chapter cement that. It will always have a special place in my heart. I will be sad to see this series go, but I will be there until the end.

EDIT: I just saw Horikoshi's comment this week and it basically confirms that we have more story to come. He doesn't say how many chapter but he says "I'll keep going for a little while" and that we're returning to school life; the "Academia" part of the story. I'm really glad he's not rushing the conclusion because there's a lot of stories and characters to give finales to. I'm also really curious to see how school life is post-war, so I'm glad that'll be explored.

[yanderecrazysie]

Dabi NSFW Alphabet

Reposting because Tumblr is shit sometimes

WARNINGS: yandere themes, NSFW, mentions of non-con

A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Dabi isn’t really a cuddly person. He doesn’t really do anything for you after sex, except maybe kiss you a little. He’ll probably just turn over in the bed and go to sleep.

B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part about himself is his dick. It’s intimidating to any girl and it makes him feel good, so why not?

His favorite part about you is your cunt. He loves playing with it and fucking your pretty little pussy.

C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)

Dabi’s cum is very thick, but it’s not a huge load. It tastes average, since he doesn’t really care about his diet.

D: Dirty Secret

Dabi is addicted to porn. He can barely go a day without watching it.

E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Very experienced. There are plenty of girls who look past his burned body because he’s got a big dick and knows how to use it.

F: Favorite Position

Doggy style. He gets to see your nice ass jiggle and he feels in control.

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)  

He might make a few joking comments, but he’s mostly serious.

H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Dabi lets his hair grow a little long, but not too bad. The hair down there is white, since he only dyed his head of hair.

I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He’s not very romantic. He’s feral once he’s inside you, only thinking about fucking you as hard as he can.

J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Dabi jerks off all the time. He has a high sex drive and needs some way to relieve it.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dabi is a sadist and he also likes the idea of stealing your virginity.

L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Dabi will do it anywhere, any time and he doesn’t care who’s watching. In fact, he might just send videos to his damned father.

M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Dabi’s cock is really sensitive. Brush against it, sit on his lap, touch it and you’re fucked (literally).

N: No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dabi, despite his sadism, doesn’t like blood. No period sex, no cutting you, nothing with blood at all.

O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dabi prefers receiving all the way, but he will always make sure you’re nice and wet for him before he fucks you.

P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)  

He is fast and incredibly rough. He acts like he has a grudge against your poor little pussy with how hard he fucks you.

Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)  

He’s more than okay with a quickie. In fact, most of the times he prefers it.

R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) 

Dabi won’t listen to your ideas, but he has plenty of ideas of his own.

S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Dabi only goes one round usually, but that’s because he’s a little lazy when it comes to sex. He could probably go more if he tried.

T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Dabi would put a vibrator on your clit and watch you orgasm several times, helpless to your pleasure.

U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He’s a tease through and through. Both verbally and physically. Grinding against your g-spot, calling you all sorts of names, etc.

V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Dabi’s overall kind of quiet, but his breath is labored. At the end, he lets out a loud grunt.

W: With or without consent (Non-con or consensual?)

Dabi is pretty into non-con when it comes to you. In fact, it kind of turns him on to see you cry under him.

X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Dabi’s long and girthy, with veins up and down his sizeable cock. He’s also gotten piercings on the side and top of his dick that rub against all the right places.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Dabi’s sex drive is insatiable. He needs you all the time, even if you’re still sore. Sometimes he’ll give you a break and watch some porn instead.

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dabi gets a good night’s sleep, falling into unconsciousness pretty quickly. He doesn’t care if you have a sleepless night.

[kharmii]

(Where Dabi takes Geten out of his Meta Liberation Army bubble so he can observe some normal people)

Geten: Is the Meta Liberation Army handbook short on stock?

Clerk: Sorry, that's all we have... *sigh*

Geten: Get a larger stock and they will sell!

Clerk: Thank you for your suggestion.

Geten: There's still time to be patient until that glorious day comes.

It can't be helped; I must refrain from using my meta ability in public. (To Dabi) What did you buy?

Dabi: It's a secret.

Geten: Stop following me!

Dabi: It's a babysitting job. Give me the pocket money the bald CEO gave you.

Geten: Don't call him bald!

Dabi: Let's get something to eat.

Geten: We'll go to the restaurant run by PLA soldiers and frequented by government officials that offers free all-you-can-eat meals to senior officials.

Dabi: That's so shitty.

(Dabi takes Geten to a popular fast-food burger joint instead)

Geten: -Looks messy

(Sign says 'Wo's Burgers')

Dabi: How can we talk about the future of society without knowing what's popular with our current society?

Worker: Welcome to Wo's. Can I take your order!

Random Girl: Hello, mom? The closing ceremony is over. Big brother is here too.

Random Older Boy: Which one is good?

Random Voice on Phone: Yes, I went to pick you up. I'll be back after lunch.

Random Younger Boy: No way.

Boy: The red one!

Older Brother: Seriously?!?!?! It's spicy!

Boy: Yeah! Ta-bo is an adult at school.

Dabi: Hey.

Geten: Ah... Ah, leave it to me.

Dabi: If you don't like it, burn it.

Geten: Don't just kill future soldiers without permission.

Don't hold me back with haphazard slaughter. If you get in his way, I'll put an end to your life right here.

(Geten gets more worked up)

Geten: When the time comes, as much as you want to, just kill them if they need killing. Right now, you're definitely the one holding me back.

(Where Geten reveals how he can't connect with regular people from being sheltered and isolated by MLA ideology.....hints at affection for Dabi maybe)

Geten: It's possible to become attached to a single ant,

When they gather together, they're no different from the buildings that grow everywhere.

It's an unrealistic view, like watching them from the other side of a television or a window.

Geten: ReDestro is passionate about society, which includes the general public.

Even if I think so, maybe I-I need to have a real, tangible experience of it.

Even if a large number of people were killed in front of you, you probably wouldn't feel any particular sympathy.

I think it puts a river between us.

The reason I stopped earlier was simply because that's what Re-Destro still wants.

Blue Flame, who are you?

Dabi: You're so talkative. Are you an adolescent?

Everyone has a river around them, right?

So, let's build a bridge for the same cause or dream... No matter how many weird arguments you make, no matter how disgusting the logic.

You're just gonna fly off like a brain dead idiot anyway, so don't ask me.

Well...

Geten: It's impossible..

Dabi: If you cross, I'll give you a kiss.

Geten: What are you talking about?

Dabi: The story of the ice man who drowned miserably in the Sanzu River.

Geten: Every single time since a while ago.....!

Dabi: It's fine, kids should just act like kids and have a happy meal.

Geten: Stop treating me like a child!

Geten: I don't approve, I don't approve....

*cough* *munch, munch, munch* *cough* *munch*

(Manages with mouth full) This simple food is the diet of the masses.

*breaks into a paroxysm of choking and coughing from food getting caught in his throat. It was so good he ate it too fast)

Dabi: (amused spewing vinegar) I don't understand hamster language. You are eating your hair. Wow, you look sloppy. Sheez....

*slaps him*

Did it hit you strange?

Geten: !?

Geten at a high point observing Dabi speaking to another person.

Geten: (creeping on Dabi in a dark alley) If we understood each other, there would have been a way for us to live together.

Are you pretending to be a self-sacrificing hero?

"You said things like 'light and shadow', 'we live in different worlds', 'fly freely', even though you were the one who made it impossible for me to fly.

That is.....

Is this your kind of love, Blue Flame?

Dabi: He talks so much. He won't stop talking. What a brat.

Geten: Should I get Trumpet to look into finding a good plastic surgeon?

If you can live without using fire, you don't need me. But you do need me, right?

The two of us could retreat to the countryside.

I wish I could live modestly and peacefully.

Dabi: Get wet

Geten: Dry it yourself.

Dabi: Impossible.

Geten: (thinking) Our relationship continues to develop. What a sad man.

Geten: (whispers an unintelligible endearment)

Dabi: Don't call me that, I'll kill you.

Geten: Is this name reserved for Hawks? Sorry about that.

Dabi: What, you don't even know your name? (Meaning the endearment is for Geten).

You're living a truly wonderful life, poor thing.

Geten: ? (Too dense to get it)

Huh? You're kidding!! How the hell do you know that!!!

Dabi: Pfff.....Let's go.

Geten: (confused, maybe because he doesn't actually know his real name, and Dabi claimed the endearment was his actual name).

Hey! There's more like this!

(Dabi pretends not to listen while Geten rants)

Re-Destro's.......apparently it was discovered in the notes he left behind! And then...! Anyway, there are even more touching scenes!

This is the worst! I don't believe it! Hey!

Dabi: *sighs*

Art credit: yaoi, hrak (yaoi), My Hero Academia BL 3000+ bookmarks / （※注キャプション）荼ホ＋外荼外の今までに描いた漫画 - pixiv

[luffythinker]

God i love trans Shigaraki so so so badly, have something i wrote, i don't know where to go from here i was just letting my mind wonder in a scenario where Shigaraki has a crush on Overhaul and Overhaul is making an effort to try and make this alliance work so he puts on a pretend pleasant face.

///

Maybe it’s because of his quirk he was never able to grow facial hair. Tomura always thought this was weird, weird the way his body grew hair in places like his pits on and between his legs but not on his face.

He would think there should be some older authoritative figure in his life yelling down his ear for him to shave it all off but that’s missing too, just like the hair on his face.

Examining himself in the filthy bathroom mirror, it doesn’t have to be this way..

the bathroom, not whatever’s wrong with him.

He doesn’t have to use the League's filthy bar bathroom; he could just go over to that prick's place. The new hassaikai’s bathroom is much much nicer. ( Okay it isn’t truly dirty in here, Kurogiri makes sure of it but it’s not as clean as Kai’s which is the whole point)

Using  one finger to pull at the skin under his eye, digging said finger into that pink skin slot where his eyeball sits inside his head wiping the sleep boogers away. Maybe it’ll even make his eyes feel less dry. Maybe.

He’s not gonna wash his hands or his face just wipe em down on his boxers the only thing he’s got on.

His house, his bathroom, his rules. No shirt all service. Shut the fuck up.

God he hates the person who stares back at him in the mirror. HEY, theres some hair growing on his chest below his neck, sweet. It's little dots almost like how his legs look yet his face is a desert wasteland?

Whatever, Tomura hooks two fingers into the side of the cabinet pulling it open like a case. Avoiding knocking anything out he grabs his meds, turns it on the label side to make sure its what belongs to him and not Dabi’s pills. He can’t always be bothered to remember to take this shit but Sensei was generous enough to humor him when he asked so he better be taking it.

He pours himself one oval-shaped pill into his palm same color as his hair, he takes it with the faucet water running it into his hands ducking his head to drink like a dog swallowing it out of his hand. 

He’ll be back to take another one later this evening.

He didn’t lock the door when he came up here, he knows this because when he goes to turn it someones on the other side trying to do the same thing.

“Shit,” The man’s crystal blue eyes instantly drew towards his small chest. “Put a shirt on, I gotta piss. Move.”

At least he doesn’t shove him outta of the way like he normally does. Maybe because he caught an eyeful? He stop giving a fuck about that the first few times it happen.

Tomura makes his way to his room upstairs further inside the bar's back rooms. His last remaining clean shirt doesn’t have long sleeves, it’s black though. “Kurogiri!” He yells holding it up. “Did you wash clothes today?”

Instead of yelling back the mistful man appears before him with an empty basket. “You neglected to hand in your used garments of the days prior Tomura Shigaraki. I haven’t washed your clothes yet.” He clarifies.

On his desk chair there's his stinky shirt from yesterday's running that arrogant assholes errands. Kurogiri collects them and walks back into the dark corridor. “Oh,” He stops before the darkness can disappear and Tomura can put a shirt on. “Before I leave a message for you.”

He makes a face at the older man. “Ugh, go on then!” He gestured with a rotating motion of his hands sitting on the foot of his bed crossing his leg.

“Overhaul says he’ll need your assistance with a mission of some sort. He didn’t give me all the details, however he encouraged that he’ll need your answer by the end of today. Would you like me to inform him or create a lie for your absence? Though, personally I think it be very punctual of you to attend in proving him wrong about you.”

“What does he want?”

“I do not know, but I can gather it might be about thievery.”

“That asshole thinks I can just get up and go wherever whenever? Gimme a break! I can’t even put my fucking shirt on!” It’s already going over his head, arms poking through the sleeves shaking his hair afterwards. “Tell him..” Tomura thinks for a minute. “Tell him I'll be there, just give me a damn minute.”

Kurogiri’s eyes flicker like he's blinking. “Very well.” Then he’s gone, swallowed up inside the portal.

Tomura falls back on his back, can’t he just leave him alone?

///

It’s not a black tie event, he shows up several minutes late with only his nintendo switch and a few pieces of hershey's kisses Toga gave him because he forgot to eat having all the time in the world to be late choosing to look for his binder instead.

How funny would it be if he came here tits out and Overhaul noticed? Ha, he’d die on the spot.

“Good afternoon.” Nemoto greets him in the living area of the hassaikai’s new building. He’s a filthy casual like their friends or some shit. Tomura resists the urge to hiss at him like a little kid instead he opts for using his eyebrow the man can definitely see under his unruly hair in acknowledgement that he isn’t ignoring him completely.

The man doesn’t know him very well and probably thinks he’s as unruly as his uncut haircut, still he smiles. It isn’t a real smile, it's like a.. Uhh how does he describe it? Like a knowing smile? Like he knows more about Tomura’s attitude then he does about why he can’t grow hair on his chin like Chisaki does. (Even though he’s got a clean face everytime he sees him he knows that man can grow a beard if he felt like it.)

“He’s in his office.” Nemoto answers his unasked question.

“Eh, thanks.” He presses a button on the elevator, going up to the highest fucking floor because what the fuck is wrong with the people here? First it was going around in circles like ants underground and now it’s climbing skyscrapers like fucking birds or whatever the fuck.

Once he reaches the second to highest floor (it’s the highest floor in his mind) he makes his way past the porcelain waiting room straight towards the office doors. It’s decorated with a not plastic plant that probably doesn’t get watered as much as it should but just enough to keep it alive.

“I’m here.” He raises his arms not bothering to knock once he’s inside,

“Close the door behind you.” Is all the stupid monotone voice says behind a big executive chair tapping away at a computer. The doors should close automatically he grumbles to himself closing them.

“Thank you.” It doesn’t mean shit.

“Yeah, what do you want?”

That’s when his yellow eyes look up from his work staring at him like he’s interrupted a room of workers. He isn’t scared of him but he still stiffens under those eyes sometimes, they don't ask for respect, it's something they already own. Reminds him of what should be that ‘older authoritative figure’ not in his life.. 

Chisaki, not just his eyes, demands a form of it, respect, from Tomura everytime they talk. Like when Dabi raises his voice at him but an entirely different story all together.

God he hates Overhaul.

“I am glad you could.." He makes a face between nauseously repulsed and pretending to smile "maintain yourself this evening.” The man beaked man tried to compliment locking his fingers on the desk. Probably taking advice from barrier quirk guy. He knows because Kurogiri and Compress talked to him, told him ‘the young head practices patients with you so you should at least try and meet him halfway.’

He’s not going to be the bigger person, there will be no ‘meeting him halfway’ or anyway.

“Have a seat.”

Shigaraki comes further inside the wasp nest pulling the chair out enough to sit in. The way this man’s trying so hard makes him want to throw up all over his clean table and him.

--- stopping mid point

i don't know what to make them talk about fjdghjdbf is this good? Shig is taking t-pills first i labeled Dabis pills as pain pills but Dabi cant feel anything so hes not taking that, idk what hes taking

also theres an implication that Shigaraki and Dabi have flings sometimes but they dont have a relationship just fuck buddies cause this is a Shigahaul story

idk what to do here , tell me what you think

ohhhh this is fun!!! i love shigaraki's pov here, hes so funny to read, love being inside his head and reading his thoughts (also love the implied shigadabi)

i love seeing shiggy taking T, its hard for me to picture him with facial hair but im imagining him trying minoxidil for months and be so frustrated that it doesn't really help his facial hair to grow 😭😭

also the the piece is good!! im not quite sure what overhaul and shigaraki would talk about here, maybe about the supposed mission? but then im thinking how this would divert to be more personal / lead them to talk about something else, but I guess it depends where you want the story to go, sorry i dont have many clear ideas at the moment :((

but totally unrelated (not really?) but while reading this i think it's crazy that we never saw someone in bnha with a quirk that could produce hormones, or something like that!! i was thinking about ivankov from one piece and how her devil fruit powers is able to give people hormone therapy and a quirk like that would be so cooljfjdjdjf

one touch and boom u give trans men all the T they need/want 😁

[bluelizze]

I DECIDED TO MAKE A POST ABOUT MY GENERINE REACTIONS TO ACCIDENTAL BF PT 4 (omg pls read this series it’s a gem by the wonderful @tenkover)

also i was just causally looping this edit while i was doing this

"You reach up and fix his crooked septum. He blushes. That damn thing."

SINCE WHEN DID TOMURA HAD A SEPTUM (ngl I actually looked up what it was bc idk what it was and I WAS SHOCKED MY JAW DROPPED)

“Why would I want to,” Tomura smiles and kisses the top of your head. He wants to absorb you… you can crawl into his ribcage any day and make yourself at home."

HEAD KISSES >>>>

“The Izuku thing, for example, like, we started off as friends just getting to know each other and out of the blue he gets handsy. It felt like all the friendship building was just… fake– and it was. His entire personality changed when I told him I won't be with him. I've had that happen before. It makes me feel… so alone. Or just generally talking to men. If you're nice you are flirting and they feel entitled to your… well, body. It hurts. And if you aren't nice… you put yourself in danger. My dad taught me to always be polite– well, too much because…. I was nice to my stalker. It's dumb– I am. That's also why I always do what people want… it is the path of least resistance.”

OH SHIT IZUKU LORE WITH READER

also reader being real here bc I always feel like I have to put on a mask around certain people so I sometimes have identity crisis (that’s why I relate to furina and mafuyu A LOT)

“He's always late!” Himiko sighs. “I'd never let you wait, (Y/N)-chan! If Tomura ever lets you wait– just text me, kay?”

HIMIKO BEING READER’S NEW BESTIE

“Really? Voice changer? Cmon, man,” Tomura says and pinches his nose.

OMG DABI BEING MYSTERIOUS BY USING A VOICE CHANGER XDDDD (I know who you are dabi LOLOL)

“Is it because… your friend who got a girlfriend?” He sobs.

OMG????? Does touya love reader?!?! (I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case)

“Y-Yes. Sorry. I… I wanted to ask if I can soft launch you on Instagram?”

SOFT LANUGH 🥹🥹🥹🥹

“When I'm back… can we maybe go on a date? Get Boba and sit in the park?

BOBA DATE BOBA DATE BOBA DATE (I’m drinking one rn)

“Please just leave… go to your boyfriend.” You frown and a lump grows steadily in your throat. You look at the back of his head. His light hair looks badly tangled. “Touya… is that the problem?” “Yep.”

OH I AM RIGHT!!! (not but surprised but STILL THE REVEAL 😤😤😤)

Yes. Thank… you. Hey, one more thing… you're not a serial killer?” “When does it become serial?” “After 5?” “Oh no then we're good.”

OMG I SEE YOU USED THE REFERENCE IM SO HAPPY HDHROWCHOAFNNQ

“During semester break he showed up here and introduced himself as my boyfriend to my dad. I don’t know if you know how charming Izuku can be… my dad loved him. And… I had to play along because if my dad knew that I have a stalker he would never let me go back to uni. So… when he finally pissed off I tried to do damage control and told my dad that I was planning to break up with him– this is so stupid.”

IZUKU you mother fucker 🙃

He snorts. “Talk later… honey..?”

HE CALLS US HONEY 🥹🥹🥹 (I love nicknames like those)

Toshinori wraps his arms around you, almost smothering you with the intensity of his embrace. “Kid, you don’t ever need to justify coming home.”

HOW COME IM SURPRISE THAT ITS TOSHINORI (FOR SOME REASON I THOUGHT IT WAS SOMEONE DIFFERENT BUT I SHOULDVE EXPECTED IT DAMN)

“You love him,” Toshinori chuckles and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel before starting to chop up some tomatoes. “You should see how your eyes are sparkling right now.”

TOSHINORI BEING A BEST DAD 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭

“You are Dabi!” You wave the phone.

OMG THE REVEAL DABI AND TOUYA R THE SAME PERSON (but not surprised bc cmon)

“Holy shit. Now I get what you were saying– Tomura is the guy you have a crush on."

OH SHIT WAIT HOLD UP WHAT A FUCKING PLOT TWIST WHAT WHAT WHAT IDURJDJDJGOMG

OMG YOU HAVE TWISTED THE PLOT EVEN MORE BY HAVING TOUYA CRUSHING ON TOMURA INSTEAD OMG THATS PRETTY REFRESHING I LOVE IT OMG

omg first spinner and now touya. everyone having a crush on tomura on this fic and honstly, that's valid

"Dude, I thought you were confessing TO ME!”

I THOUGHT SO TOO

“No– did you just forget I am gay or what?! Be for real.”

YES I DID FORGET OR I MISREAD IT SOMEHOW

Tenko doesn't remember and Tomura can't face the truth.

OMG WHY U GOTTA END IT LIKE THIS OFRMC EQOJVCUOWDVIPQEBPIBCWDPI

[sinelity]

eyes like yours, can look away (but you can’t stop dna)

↳ in which dabi struggles with the overwhelming familiarity of his reflection

—-

shaky hands gripped the counter, turning white at the knuckles. it was late, far too deep into the am’s to still be awake and this wasted. dabi didn’t care though. he was so numb to the touch, he could hardly feel the counter digging into his skin. hell, he couldn’t even stand properly without a support.

he deserved this though. at least he thought so. he’s been working his ass off, causing trouble for the hero’s every which way he went. it was rewarding enough to watch them from a shabby alleyway as they scrambled around, trying to save every pathetic bitch that couldn’t help themselves.

well it was, up until endeavor arrived on scene. he could handle seeing him, loved the rush of satisfaction it gave him to watch his father seethe at the sight of his very own signature. what he couldn’t handle was the brat shadowing his footsteps. of course, daddy had to parade around his special lil’ boy that he was oh so proud of. the only heir endeavor ever needed; the only one he truly wanted.

it made bile rise in his throat before he forced it down, walking off with his jaw clenched in a similar manner to his hands, only to make his way back to the bar to wash away any memory he had left of the day.

and so here he was, hunched over the sink after a few rounds too many. any self pity he had left in him was long forgotten, put to rest for the remainder of the night. he hated feeling like he had no control, no power over his own stupid fucking emotions. dabi refused to cope, instead opting out for less savory methods that lead him to this exact situation hundreds of times over.

the faucet gave in with a creak, a sharp flow of water ricocheting against the porcelain. he splashed water over his face, hardly holding himself up without a hand against the surface to steady him. the same routine he’d never outgrow no matter how many years pass by.

he didn’t bother to dry his dripping skin. he only held himself against the counter once again, this time his shoulder leaning into the wall.

an empty box laying close to his hand served as an empty reminder; he needed more dye. begrudgingly, dabi looked into the mirror, avoiding any direct eye contact with the man staring back at him. he just wanted to examine his fading hair and white roots, an annoying nuisance but one that was much needed. it was inevitable though. impossible to ignore his own reflection so when his eyes met the familiar blue in the mirror, he felt sick.

he felt sick because it wasn’t him who he saw, but the cold eyes of his father. the same man who he despised more than anything. the same man who was supposed to raise him with a loving smile, yet only ever looked at him with dead eyes. the sight was unwelcome, but it didn’t mind it’s manners. a foot in the door, pushing past the ever growing force trying to keep it away, it made itself at home in his head.

his gaze was locked on the image that intruded his every thought, attempting to get him to focus solely on its presence like it would heal the very wounds it inflicted.

yet it only ever reopened them, and suddenly he was right back to his past, burning up and screaming for help as his father watched. he waited, begged, cried for even a flash of care or regret in his fathers eyes but all he saw instead was disappointment. it hurt, digging into his sides and letting loose on his worn down body. he caught a small glimpse of himself engulfed in blue flames before he erupted and everything went to hell.

it tore at his insides, starting low in his knees, weakening them as it makes its way to the tip of his ears. a path only it could trace, hitting every nerve and marking its way deep inside him like it belonged. but it didn’t. he didn’t want it to. it wasn’t supposed to be there anymore. he tried so hard to tear it out of his head like it never existed in the first place.

it wouldn’t relent. he could try and try all the wanted, but even he couldn’t rid of every trace of the past that lead him here. it wasn’t what he envisioned his future to be when he was younger, but fate was cruel. it wouldn’t forgive the sins of those it had no hold over, so it would latch itself onto those around.

it wasn’t fair, but the world was doomed from the start much like his family was. his life was mapped out for him before he could even blink and he had no ounce of control over what happens anymore. he never did, and it was foolish to ever think he could change his destiny like he tried to the mind of the very man that put him in this position.

so he looked away, forcing his eyes to look elsewhere. anywhere else but his reflection like it would ever be enough to forget the eyes he inherited. it wasn’t though. it’s always going to be there. every fucking time it will be right there again, waiting for the pained face he makes to stray back. he can turn his back all he wants, but it won’t follow his movements. instead it’ll creep closer, glass shattering as it reaches for him, clawing at his scarred back and dragging him towards it.

then what?

he can’t escape the blood that so desperately wants to corrode his lungs, fill them up until he’s a sputtering mess. he can’t escape the way it begs to seep out of his torn skin, wanting to cling to every inch of his body until he’s drowning in it. he can’t escape it no matter how far he runs.

it sticks to his shadow, outlining his silhouette even on the darkest of days, trailing into his room right after him. it hovers over him as he hardly even gets his boots off before he collapse on his bed, one hand under his head and the other on his abdomen.

his mind is far too corrupt to ignore it. it lingers as his eyes close, watching, waiting for him to drift off to into a dreamless sleep. seconds pass by, then minutes until it decides to bully its way in again, deciding that it was now it’s home and he was just a mere guest. pulling and plucking at his eyelids, forcing them open as a way to make a statement; there’s no avoiding it. no way around it, to forget it, to bury it. he’s forever damned to be stuck with this torment.

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 293, Replies Part 1

1) “Oh my god man, now shit’s gonna get real! Even though he’s not gonna be able to do much against Shigaraki. Or Machia. Okay, he’s not exactly the ace that will save everyone, but we’re still glad he’s back, for Chapter 293: Hero-Saturated Society.”-Honestly? (points to the devastation wrought by each individual and the ongoing chaos) I don’t think there’s anyone who can save everybody from this. Not even All Might in his prime can stop multiple S-tier calamities like these erupting simultaneously across the country, and these poor heroes are forced to face them back to back. At this point, it’s trying to contain the damage, not stop it completely, and they need all hands on deck for that. 2) “Also, where are the girls? There’s only the boys here, also is that evil Midoriya next to Shigaraki?”- It seems to be a minor list of all the major fighters still up and running in this battle, so judging by the fact he’s standing next to Tomura I’m gonna assume that’s what Dabi would look like if he wasn’t self-cremated and still had his hair dye in. 3) “Oh yeah, there’s my baby after bringing back the power from my other baby.

Eri takes it and Eri gives it back, her power is unmatched.”- Eri’s power is so game-breaking that it’s actually pretty impressive to me how Horikoshi’s been avoiding making her too much of an OP crutch for the heroes to rely on, mangling themselves without fear of the long-term repercussions with Eri in their corner. 4) “Didn’t you saw the last panel Midoriya? Eri is the reason he’s here. Unless you meant how he knew to come to this specific location, which, being honest, is not that hard to guess, just following the trail of destruction and bodies Machia left”- To be frank, Izuku’s been so preoccupied stopping Tomura and all the little head-games that have been going on between their Quirks that I don’t think he’s fully processed the implications of what Machia’s appearance here means for everything left behind him. Gonna be a nasty shock to add to the growing pile. 5) “FUCK YOU MIRIO WE HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN AGES OF COURSE WE ARE NOSTALGIC ABOUT YOU”- It was even longer with all the weekly releases for us….well, I guess maybe not, what with finishing off the Vigilante alcohol binge for you.

6) “Also, jesus fuck man she told him about the super secret battle plan even though he was no longer a hero student and didn’t even had a quirk anymore, c'mon girl we know that Mirio is trustworthy, but that was reckless!”-She also knows him/worked with him directly as another hero intern under Nighteye’s office before the management change, so it’s like she informed a co-worker she’d known for a long time about the upcoming plan, which adds a little bit to her verification of Miro’s trustworthiness. Besides, in the same vein that having a goal to strive towards can make you push past your limits, knowing there was a big upcoming battle could have pushing Miro more into trying to regain his powers, giving her another reason to tell him. 7) “Well Mirio, hate to break it to you but you’re a bit bigger than a bug or lizard, not to say that there might be other side-effects of rewinding you half a year.

Although considering you’re here fighting I suppose that was not the case”- If there were any, I’d think they’d show up as a long-term deal, and right now, that’s a hypothetical problem they can afford to put aside whilst they focus on the present and distressingly immediate. 8) “AIZAWA GAVE THE NOD OF APPROVAL FOR HIS DAUGHTER TO LET HER POWER LOOSE

ERI SHALL HEAL THEE LIKE JESUS DID”- He’s also the metaphorical brake to her runaway powerhouse of a power, so she needs him nearby anytime she’s thinking of unleashing her Quirk in any degree, even after having better control of the “speed”. 9) “Yeah Mirio, thank you for showing up, we’re extremely happy to see you, but unfortunately you can’t do much to actually take them down. I doubt you could punch them hard enough to make them pass out.”- Miro dumped all his skill points into speed, evasion and defence, leaving him with pretty lacklustre offense against beings a jacked teenager can’t knock out in a single punch – and that’s exactly the kind of monstrous footsoldier AFO’s been honing all these years. 10) “…

Well okay, sure, I guess that the best option would be to call for help, but, who’s gonna come help you now? Everybody is already here!”- Other than his personal skills, Miro’s greatest ability is his awareness of his own shortcomings and limitations, making him a fantastic team player whenever he shows up, knowing when to delegate tasks he can’t handle himself to somebody better qualified and unafraid to show this, unlike other, more prideful heroes who might bluff about it and give a false sense of security. 11) “…

Is that Bakugo? Is Bakugo coming here? Wasn’t he already around? After he almost died that is”- Bakugo is the embodiment of “I didn’t hear no bell”…if only because he blew the bell up before he started fighting. Besides, he has extra motivation to push himself back from the brink of death, what with needing to fulfil his promise to Jeanist to tell him his incredibly serious and well-thought-out hero name the next time they spoke. 12) “fuck it was bakugo.but I swear, I thought he was there on the floor after he got stabbed by Shigaraki back in chapter 286”- He was on the floor, but then he got himself back off the floor, and doesn’t plan to hit it again until the heroes have won…somehow.

13) “Oh thank god Nejire is okay, even though she got half of her body burned like that.”- Proof that Bakugo’s not an outlier, every hero is equally capable of standing back up to continue the fight…and so unfortunately are the villains too.

14) “Also, wait, is Bakugo gonna reveal his hero name? We didn’t heard what it was so far right? In just assumed it would be Bakugo. Or kacchan. God I hope it’s kacchan.”- It’s better!

15) “what”-   Shush you, this is the greatest name he could have picked.

16) “Mirio it wasn’t meant to be funny, Bakugo is just always thinking about murder 24/7”- It might just have been because of his hang-time running out, but Bakugo looks like he face-planted in disappointment after Miro misunderstood the purpose of his name. @thelreads

[ltadoriyuujl]

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.

Eyes's slow progression of soldier to captain to warmaster in bkg's mind ohhh i'm unwell the trust the respect...

Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm.

HE'S SO WHIPPED HE'S DONE FOR...

Where did his anger go?

Personally I think he used it all up to keep the fireplace by Eyes's sickbed roaring but what do I know?

Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot.

This is the line that really killed me everything after just constructed my coffin and lowered me into the ground.

Bakugou watches you shamelessly.

Oh how the tables turn...the eyes are the windows to the soul and these two have just been shattering the glass since the dabi attack.

He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it?

You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.

He's so sentimental...his heart is so big...bakugo katsuki, self-centered and vain in the sense that he thinks he is the root of every issue and it's his duty to fit Aldera on his back.

“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?” You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?” “I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.” “You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”

“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–” “Fuck off,” he tosses at you like it’s ever worked before. “I won’t.” “Eyes–” “– it’s beautiful.” “I make bombs.” “You make starfall.”

AHHHHHHHHHHHH. the themes THE THEMES THE MOTIFS THEY'VE GOT MEEEE. my prince my captain my dragon my sword and shield my teeth and claws my gods my queen my eyes his eyes her EYES. do you get it. the rot is in me too i think.

If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch.

They're all fire and stars and heat and home and like. whatever you get it. The Voices torment me eternally.

“This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.” “Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.

I've been found dead AND THIS KILLED ME. 16 CHAPTERS AND WE FINALLY MADE IT. IT FEELS LIKE HOPE AND LOVE AND THE SWEETEST THING I'VE EVER HAD.

“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.

I need to be put down.

Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.

this was obscene /pos. i need them to eat each other whole and decide they're still not close enough.

You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.

Pulling my hair out at the root I dreamt of times like this...

You take off when he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner.

It's been lovely knowing you Shinsou I'm sure your memorial will be beautiful.

You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.

cold and warmth ice and fire queen and guard the metaphors all want me dead.

in conclusion pomme my life's goal is to get crazy rich so i can support and commission you forever like an 1800s noble and their favorite artist. i am rewired on an atomic level. you have bewitched me body and soul.

𝟏𝟔 | 𝐇𝐞𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"This is so much worse than fury. You rip your hand away from his and take a step backward. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken."

cw blatantly suggestive, an accidental confession and the panic that follows. bkg doesn't know why he's been looking for you. you couldn't be angry about it if you tried. laughter, bite marks, magic, a warm hiding spot. 8.1k

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A slap across the face and the spatter of blood that follows in an arc across fine rugs. Bakugou bleeds when he tries not to think of you. You are too easy to be with and too difficult to find.

Your prince and fragments of rehearsal fineries that you would beam at if you appeared in this frigid foyer– which he knows only because you’ve done nothing but smile at him for seven cursed days– storms towards warmer hallways. There’s nothing for it but to track you down. He wakes up and you are not outside his door. He eats and meets and eats again and you do not materialize behind him or emerge from shadowed corners to brandish a weapon when unpleasant lords are unpleasant. Are you still following orders or are you finally sick of him?

Bakugou pretends he is not walking quickly. A maid has pointed him in your direction. The waitstaff here has no particular affinity for either of you, so they’ve tried their hardest to answer his questions this week and be rid of Alderans for the day. After all, once he finds you he doesn’t bother anyone else until dawn.

Find is a strong word, the maid thinks as she chews a dry lip. You don’t seem to be hiding from him.

It's the busiest morning, second only to tomorrow’s actual ball, and Bakugou has spent the whole of it in dress fittings and board meetings and appetizer tastings. He was meant to rehearse the first waltz with Fuyumi but for four days in a row she’s had her hands full with final adjustments to royal rosters and seating arrangements. The king is home afterall. And he does not dote on his daughter.

Bakugou turns up a second staircase once he arrives in the center castle and barks at a guard, stationed and startled, in the doorway where he emerges. Shinsou clutches his chest and stares at the imposing prince, heavy but silent.

“Boo. You seen my captain?” Bakugou only half-waits for a response from the apprentice before following his intuition to the left. You like to hide in odd places.

“Yeah,” Shinsou breathes and finds his position again, “carrying her lunch to the catwalks.”

Bakugou grins and hopes you can feel him wherever you are, rolling his eyes.

She was in common clothes– I think, headed towards the throne room.

Haven’t seen her, sir.

Your Alderan? It’s freezing, she should request a jacket from the supply corps.

Five days ago he found you rehousing spiders in the rafters of the greenhouse much to the chagrin of delicate flowers. Two days ago he finally spotted you among a dozen soldiers all helping the blacksmith resilver the inlay of the soldier quarter’s door. Yes, he’d told you to leave his babysitting to Kirishima but he didn’t expect you to listen.

Yesterday, Bakugou caught you wandering through the ninth-story walkways, the walkways sculpted onto the side of the castle like wasp nests where the archers hide. Your fingers gripped the hem of your padded tunic, red with cold, and your back pressed flat to the white castle marble even as you craned to gaze the city and sea over the edge of the balustrade.

Your prince almost screamed when he glanced out one of ten thousand pale windows in his search when instead of the depressing gray sky, it was your braids whipping in the wind outside, several stories higher in the air than he would have liked you.

“Eyes!” He jerked the window open and stuck out his head. 

“The marble is too smooth Highness, please stay inside.”

White pointelle curtains rattled on their rods with the ferocity of the afternoon wind. “Come now,” he’d barked. He swallowed a roar to keep from startling you off the wall. You turned from the view towards his outstretched hand and half a golden body out the little window, and smiled.

You smiled from the cobwebs when he asked you what the fuck you were doing in blue begonias. You smiled at him among the crowd when he mimed flexing from the gallery to mock the blacksmith. You smiled when he caught you practicing sword forms for bored children and again when he and Kirishima joined in. You smiled without thought and he warmed at the sight of it. He laughed.

He laughed when the florist shrieked over a clutch of spider eggs and he laughed when you hammered Aizawa’s door crooked in your distraction. He laughed when Kaminari tried to teach you to juggle apples in potion storage, and very softly he laughed when he found you asleep beside proofing ovens.

The castle’s vanity seeps into every orifice, it bleeds from the seamless walls and into seed-sized crannies. Family portraits, royal crests, kingdom’s colors, wards against death written in old Takoban like they think this is the only kingdom on the continent where people might live forever. Superstition and agitation nick the Alderan like thorns through cold blue hallways. He itches for forests. On the third floor of the East Wing there is a great open gallery. It presides over the grand staircase of the castle’s entrance so that an invading army couldn’t so much as piss over the threshold before the legion of soldiers that fit upstairs fired off their arrows.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.

He knows where you are. He can hear the king shouting from an open door downstairs and crosses the entrance gallery, bathed in warm sunlight from its volley of windows. It takes him exactly as long to walk it as it takes stained glass heat to pink his shoulders and with a perfect golden hue he dips under a doorway to find you perched at the lip of a ledge. You’re always about to fucking fall off something.

You sit cross-legged behind a black railing, picking at the cup of fruit beside you. Your hair is getting longer, wilder, and your braids tumble with white ribbons as you follow the scene below. Two stories below the ballroom is awash in afternoon light and hundreds of potential floral arrangements with the king dead in the middle, roaring at artisans. Prince Natsuo is slightly behind him and his neck is an agitated red. You pop a berry in your mouth.

You were always going to love the catwalks– the thin system above important rooms that servants use to gauge crowds and light the tall candles. All of tomorrow it’ll be crawling with footmen and today it looks like it’s already been dusted in preparation, although it’s not meant to be seen. You sit comfortably in its shadows and watch.

Tension melts from his veins when he finds you and nothing replaces it, so Bakugou isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking when he slips inside to be closer. Jeanist taught him too, he can be quiet. You wipe juice from your lip with your thumbs and polish it with a lick. Your fingertips are purple. You run them through your hair to push the braids behind your shoulders and focus again on the agitated king and his crying arachnophobic florists.

“You stare like the best of ‘em,” Bakugou whispers as he drops behind you and cups a hand over your mouth in case you make a startled sound, although, you react before he actually finishes the thought or announces himself, and jerk forward to catch his gentle hand with your teeth.

King, prince, artisan, maids, seagulls, and dustbunnies pause their meeting to agree that a grunt did in fact come from the chandeliers and that they aren’t insane, before continuing their jury over the fate of the party decorations. A whiff of caramel is the only thing that keeps you from breaking the hand with your bite and just as quickly as you attempt to reveal the intruder through pain, you swing your arm around to cover the prince’s mouth before he gives away your position with a yelp or fireblast. The momentum flattens you both.

Maybe one day Bakugou will remember that you are filled with the same fire that he is, before trying to bother you. When did the urge to bother you even occur to him? Both of you, square on your backs to hide properly in shadows, are close enough for your hand to still be firmly planted over his face like a muzzle. He smiles first this time. You smell like blackberries.

Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm. In the seconds that the king and his entourage fall silent, Bakugou can only just barely contain huffs from his nostrils and the wet at the corners of his eyes. You stare like always and he must have melted fast enough because horror and apologies haven’t tumbled out of you yet. His dragon’s nails have gotten longer. Loose and wild hairs frame the face he only ever knew as perfectly kempt and unreadable. He cannot stop finding new things to notice here on the itchy rug beside you and he’s grateful you have only covered his mouth because his firebrand eyes gleam when you succumb to your own smile. Immediately you hide it behind your own free hand to stay quiet and the pair of you swallow stupid mirth in the dark.

Where did his anger go? “Ow,” the prince rasps when he’s collected himself and pulls your hand into his.

“Excuse me, Highness,” you whisper back. Your smile still rattles him like a blow to the side of the head. What the fuck is it about you that makes his pulse drum? Bakugou rolls onto his back. If you were sick of him you probably wouldn’t lay so close.

He tilts his gaze back to you, “What are you doing up here?”

Watching, you mouth like you’re signaling him to shut up. You pull your hand away from his and look over your shoulder towards the ledge where roars and curses roll up from the king like crashing waves.

“Why?”

It’s as close as Bakugou has ever seen you come to rolling your eyes. You blink at him and press forward. Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot. It eats away at the strongest parts of him, the parts of him that are poised and beautiful and ready for war. It’s eating you too. The strongest parts of you that are silent and obedient and deadly.

You drag your body across the floor to be closer to him– so much closer– so close that your thigh practically drapes over his and you cup your hand to his ear so you can whisper an answer that he can’t even focus long enough to hear. Maybe the rot started earlier. Maybe he should never have picked a fight with you.

A sudden scream flies up from the ballroom and Bakugou reacts before you do, less to offer protection and more because he knows you’ll launch right off the walkway if he doesn’t hold you down, but still his hold is protective when the scream is followed by a pillar of white orange fire that flies high and soots crystals in the chandelier. It’s brief and scalding like a geyser and you are not strong enough to protest your prince tucking all of you under his chest in the interim. You smell like home, like forests like moss. The scent of the sea is finally falling out of your hair.

“In what world is this my responsibility?” the king seethes. His drop in volume is menacing and it echoes violently in the empty room, “pick your own fucking flowers, I have work to do.”

The ballroom doors are not meant to be closed or opened with such force and they scream louder than he can when he burns his way through, leaving the prince and his artisans in the cold and terrible hall. A ball in Takoba is an oxymoron. A malicious idea. Bakugou leans back on his arm to release you and sits up to watch Natsuo console his workers. The eldest Takoban prince wears patience well. Whose idea was this party? The same person who sent for Enji? Belligerent. Bakugou hasn’t seen the queen in weeks.

He grumbles before he turns to look at you, “Missed what you said.” But when he does finally look, you are so much Alderan that the cold of Takoba falls off his shoulders like frost. Maybe that’s why he’s been searching for you. The fire that only a life in his castle could stoke, ravages the blacks of your eyes. Even though you are silent, he knows what you’re thinking.

“Down girl,” he grins and kicks his legs out from under him to settle more comfortably. Flowers below are picked in whispered consensus and the room empties under your glare. The sun has started to set. The far wall of the ballroom is, in classic Takoban fashion, one long series of windows taller than most houses and the sea shines behind it in a trick of rolling warm shapes like smoke from a fireplace. You both linger at the edge of the shadows up on high. Bakugou watches you shamelessly.

“I will not attack the king.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

You think for a few seconds and turn to him with an awkwardly soft look that crackles into a smile too easily for you to be the same girl who grew up learning how to kill in his castle. Everything you do but fight is bizarre. Like blue fire, he cannot make himself look away from you.

“What’ll you do at the ball?”

“What do you mean?” The ballroom is empty so there’s no need to whisper but neither of you know how to talk to the other.

Bakugou cocks his head and doesn’t need to hope you know when he rolls his eyes anymore because he can finally do it in front of you. He crosses his arms, “Do you dance? I can’t think of anything else to keep you distracted enough to avoid assassination.”

But you are already distracted by something and he can see the moment you stop listening to him talk. All the better, he thinks. He might have just asked you to dance with him.

“Your hand Highness, I– mers–” and you reach forward to take up his bitten fist like touching him is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your fingertips are ice-cold. The rot spreads. “You startled me, I’m so sorry.”

Now Bakugou isn’t listening. You rub at the divots your teeth left in the side of his palm and press them like imperfections in pie dough. Your hands are so much more slender than his. So much rougher. Do you feel it too? The death of fury? How the ocean slowly laps at the bonfire until wood can no longer fight back? Do you remember the library like he does? He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it? Do you miss home like he does? Or has he ruined that too?

“No. I’m sorry,” he admits before thinking. He startled you after all, but immediately he is silent with realization; breath holds in his lungs. Fuck, that’s not– you asked him so clearly not to do that. Is he incapable of leaving you with anything? You watch his fingers twitch for a moment like you can feel his heartbeat there and then look up at him and stare. He’s not sorry for sneaking up on you at all. That’s not what he meant.

Eyes was an apt nickname, if not a little mean. Bakugou has never envied telepaths before. How ignorant he was, to think of you as the bloody little girl in a velvet carriage. You hold his hand now with just as much strength as you did all those years ago; obviously it was strength and not desperation. You did not hang laundry to thank him. You did not catch fruit to thank him. You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.

“Never thought I’d hear a sheep apologize to the sheepdog.”

He startles a little, just a slight widening of his eyes, because you hold his hand up to see the ring of teeth clearly and cover your chuckle with the tips of your fingers.

“Callin me a sheep?”

“You are biteable like one.”

Do you know what you’re doing? Bakugou wonders as his own smile escapes the confines of horror. He snatches his hand back and leans against the black iron railing to face you. Quick wit, quicker draw, why do you hide such pleasant things under such a ferocious– the Alderan blinks and his face falls for half a second again in realization.

You blink back because you cannot read his mind, “Are you okay, sir?”

The same fire. If he stopped and thought for a single fucking second you wouldn’t have been the enigma protecting his home. You would have been a girl that he wanted very much, to talk to in his ceaseless boredom. He melts into a smile again and this time his teeth glint, “Don’t call me that.”

Winter really has arrived; the sun sets faster with each second and soon the ballroom below is a great orange pool. He was meant to rehearse the opening waltz today and the thought of you watching him, concealed, makes his ears hot. Florals drift up and up from their vases where they’re warmed in afternoon light.

You cross your legs and turn too, so that the prince isn’t just staring at a profile. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“To what?”

“The ball, Highness. Are they fun?”

“You’ve attended balls,” he grunts and scans his memory for the last party thrown in Aldera, although you don’t appear in the pictures his brain conjures up. “They’re fine. Loud.”

You nod. There are ten-thousand things he could think to ask you and a hundred more questions he knows that the answers will spur but sitting beside you in the dark without a threat to either of your lives is new and overwhelming. Your wild hair makes wild shapes.

“Fuyumi wants to dress you up.”

You don’t find that as funny as he does and you’re gawking when you turn from the view of the ballroom to look at him. He thinks you aren’t afraid of him– he hopes– but he knows you still won’t say what you long to for fear of sounding unprofessional. He’ll have to work on that.

“She gave up on Ochako years ago.”

“Is it a gown?”

“Takoban,” he rests his head on the metal too, enjoying all the scandalized expressions your pretty lips make, “frilly lace, the works.”

You consider this for a moment and make the shape of his name before swallowing it. One more time, “I see.” And you turn back away to think some more, about how to phrase something unprofessional. He’s teasing, he hasn’t seen the damn thing but for a moment your prince can see you so clearly, sewn tight into a dress made of sealace. You try to speak again, fail, and lean closer. Your breath is sweet from fruit and your bowl is empty behind you.

“I can’t wear blue for another second, Highness, I’ll hurl the tailor into the sea.”

Bakugou spits over the railing in amusement and huffs, a subdued panic, when he crosses his arms again.

“Highness please,” you chuckle, “I’ll get violent,” and you smile under the frown, which just serves to make you look even more like a dragon– like you’ll make good on your word– and less like an obedient footsoldier. How do you do it? What are you doing to him? Bakugou can only stare with a rough affection because if he tried to speak right now something might come out.

You run a hand back through your braids to settle them where you like them to lay. It’s draconic, regal, every way you sit perch and glare from the clearest part of any room. His mother calls it King’s Corner, or the Seat of the Queen, that perfect spot where you can see everything important without showing your back to a soul. That’s always where he finds you. That’s your secret. He pinches an ear between his knuckles to try and cool it down.

“Takoba’s lucky you aren’t a mage,” he manages. He has to look away to say it but he does manage, “should thank you for it.”

“I did try,” you don’t need to manage back. Proximity to him isn’t eating you alive. “And I don’t work for thank yous, thank you very much.”

When Bakugou was ten years old he celebrated his birthday in a parlor with boughs of cherry blossoms and sweets for which he never really had an appetite. He was doted on and he worked hard to deserve it so that anything he wanted to do that day, and any birthday thereafter, was his. You were not celebrated with cake. He wouldn’t know until years later that his mother brought you gifts and good food on your birthday because he could find you every day of the year at work somewhere in his castle. You did not fall ill, you did not fail, and on his birthday you, nine years old, practiced forms in the paths between spring orchards just downwind from the parlor. Jeanist was seated inside with him among the family’s guests. No appetite for cake. Bakugou only celebrated ten birthdays and you have never stopped breaking his heart.

“Tried what?”

You ruffle your own hair so you don’t have to look at him either because at least one thing embarrasses you. “Magic.”

“Magic.”

“It’s not funny,” you chirp at his flat tone and round on him with your legs crossed. He leans back when your voice comes out a bit louder than expected and his bitten fist aches when it clenches. “I would copy you.”

The rot makes him weak and useless and susceptible to your stare, but the rot makes you fearless.

“I used to watch you studying– when we were really little– when we were both supposed to be eating with everyone in the Hall. You used to,” you look briefly to your side like someone important might be watching you acting so casually and it dims that fire he needs in your eyes.

“Used to what?” he smiles. He knows you watched him, you must know that too. Finish, please finish your story, he wants to hear your voice tell you more about home.

“Used to watch you flail your chubby arms until sparks came out.”

When Bakugou laughs this time he tries not to hold anything back, if only just to douse you in oil and keep the fire alight. Fucking please, just talk.

“I used to try every night too!–” you laugh, slightly louder, “– wind up my arms tight and spin around my room after curfew– disturb the horses– pretend to be a dragon.”

“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?”

You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?”

“I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.”

“You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have you ever sheltered from a spray of ethereal flames?”

He frowns and smirks, confused, as if to ask, why have you? And the flint tinder in the bright part of your eyes sparks white hot.

“Melting, crushing, it’s completely inescapable without a barrier mage,” you pull your knee up with a bit of theatrics and lean because with everything inside of you except for actual realization, you want him to listen too. “Pink and red, blue, green golden and white hot. Highness, has no one ever told you how beautiful your magic is? You make magic like a dragon, who wouldn’t want a blessing like that?”

No one would want this cursed fucking magic that prickles his palms with sweat in the dark for no other reason than because you are looking at him, when all he wanted was– he just wanted to see you– watch you, he didn’t need you to watch him back and now the fire of Aldera he keeps trying to warm beside will blast him all the way to the wick. This is the flattery he hears so much about from his blushing mother.

“‘s not special. My magic maims people.”

“So do I.”

He frowns deeper, “Not the same.”

“I worked hard to maim people, it’s not the same because what I do isn’t beautiful.”

“That’s not–” he doesn’t think that. Don’t think that he thinks that, “–work isn’t beautiful. War isn’t beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–”

“Fuck off,” he tosses at you like it’s ever worked before.

“I won’t.”

“Eyes–”

“– it’s beautiful.”

“I make bombs.”

“You make starfall.”

Bakugou stares. Rough affection, yeah right, he’s melting.

You fall back on your hips when you realize you’ve broken clear through the confines of professionalism and the embarrassment sets in quickly. Eyes dart sideways, chest and knees turn. Your embarrassment is a subtle grip on fraying rugs. What do you do to your heart to make it pull so strong in every direction? Is it a spell? One that makes him quiet and happy to wait for his silent guard to speak again. This must be how the queen feels. You turn fully back to the rising orange light of the ballroom below and your lips part before any words are actually ready to come out.

The first time you try to speak, he doesn’t hear you. Bakugou traces the path between your shiny scars with his gaze. One below your ear to the one at your eyebrow and down again, past an old cut in your cheek. You couldn’t douse the forest fire behind those lashes if you tried. Not under orders or oath. Not from embarrassment.

“What does it feel like?” You whisper, looking a great distance down past abandoned flowers.

Both of you have fallen closer to each other in the waves of your nothing conversation, so much so that your shoulders would press together if the rot just ate away a little bit more. Bakugou’s heart sinks into the ballroom. It plummets like a drowned man.

“Give me your hand.”

This is a fucking mistake, but all your prince can see is the last time pure joy ever sailed across your face in an evening spent around your wonderful campfire. He caused and extinguished it with one spark thrown into your cupped palms, the last time you ever tried to make magic. “I won’t hurt you,” he rumbles even though it kills him to look at you now.

Your side of the catwalk begins to glow at the lips because the sun has set far enough to climb walls towards the ceiling. You glow with it. Pink in a thousand places, ears and throat, lips, because you’re thinking too hard about what it is to be a proper guard and how much it is probably not raising your voice to delight in magic that does not belong to you. The corners of your mouth tremble. Who was it that told you you talk too much?

“Is that an order?”

“No.” Of course not.

You study the details of the itchy rug for too long, in the new light at its edge. Bakugou used to hate hiding up here in the cold but it was the only place the idiot children his mother sent him here to entertain couldn’t find him. He couldn’t be happier now, now that no one but you can see just how hard he flounders without fury.

Your hips swivel back towards him in precise decision then you fold your knees neatly underneath them to get closer. A few white ribbons in your hair seem to catch fire as the sunlight climbs higher and the sun dips lower out an infinite distance. Every mile it is far, is a mile Bakugou can feel in measures of chill. If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch. You reach and pull both his fists into the space between your bodies from where they lingered in the air.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t,” he breathes, watching all the shapes your fingers can make together. He’s a prince, this is ridiculous. He sits up tall and stretches his arms out so you don’t need to reach so far, and makes a safe place for your strong fingers, those calluses and scars, to rest atop his open palms.

“Don’t call me sir.”

You are looking at him and considering something about his face, or his words, who knows– one of your eyebrows twitches in decision. It’s remarkable how steady your heads are. You are sure of everything you do even when it’s destructive and disruptive and punishable by death.

Laid out plainly like this and stiller than either of you have ever been together, your fingers and wrists, your palms, even your fingernails are so much more delicate than his. Like if he closed his golden fists, you’d disappear. Compared to the princess you have the hands of a farmer, but not a single thought– past how each other part of your body might look beside his– is allowed to rattle through his head when you watch him, straight ahead, and smile.

“Okay.”

He clears his throat. He’s a mage and magic is easy. He’s not going to set off the sweat on the back of his neck. “Don’t be nervous,” Bakugou grumbles to the dark.

You grin and ghost a thumb over the warmth and damp of his open palm, “Who are you trying to convince?”

“It’s this stupid fucking magic,” he bites. A bead of sweat drips through his knuckles onto the floor and if he’s not careful he might take out half the castle. Prince and apprentice assassinate world’s most fucked up royal family– he can already see the dossier sitting pretty on his mother’s desk.

You’re suddenly in a wonderful mood and you sit up slightly at the beginnings of warmth under your fingertips. He can hear your knees squeak and count your heartbeats in the veins of your wrist that his own fingertips reach. Those eyes again– always your eyes. They’re colored like any normal pair anyone might ever see but he’s one of few people who watch the dragons. You must have watched them too, too long, for your gaze to become so similar.

It feels like any other second of Bakugou’s life. Setting fire to own hands and measuring the strength of his magic in reds and whites. It’s an ordinary moment for many whole seconds until your prince follows the beginnings of light up from his palms, to your starving and unabashed awe. The sparks bubble up as hungry fish would in a pond, and then jump, spit, between your fingers like cooking oil. Your touch is so gentle at first. You train and measure your own skill every day so that Jeanist’s recruits don’t lose varied limbs, but as your excitement wells up you spill a bit from your seams. You rise slightly higher and give him more weight to hold and your prince dissolves into a smile.

Four hands rest inside one another and fire from the dragons illuminates your hiding place.

“Highness,” you whisper and startle a thousand times at every new color Bakugou ignites between your fingers. You’re fully up on your knees now having risen higher and higher to watch his magic as best you can and Bakugou sits on the floor beneath you, rotting.

“Highness what,” he whispers back.

You abandon the thought and jump when a green sparkler squeals through the air between you, and when your prince thinks to pull away your fingers are already wrapped tight around every part of him you can manage. He could have done this for you a thousand times; your joy was always this simple, raw, and unjealous. Purple and gold soar across the highs of your cheeks and hug your jaw. It’s all he can bear, to love this smile and to know that his sweat is plastered across your hands and soaked through the cuff of your sleeves, and so he freezes with the realization and embarrassment and with your last words.

“Highness, thank you.”

He doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak yet. The smile he loves. The magic dies with his concentration and as the sun finally crests your walkway for its fleeting moments of warmth, Bakugou tries to muster something like confidence because you’re looking at him with a softness he didn’t realize you had. Is it overwhelming because he knows you could kill him? Maybe it’s because he’s never wanted to kiss anyone before.

Bakugou’s pomegranate eyes dart up to you, saying goodbye to the last of the light and something like sugar scalds his throat. That new thought is fleeting because your golden prince drains the life from it like a butchered animal– gods, can’t he leave you with anything?

“Told you I don’t bite,” he grins and swallows the last selfish thought to death, “that’s your job right?”

You beam before bursting into deep and hungry laughter in the sun-soaked air above him. Whatever. Bakugou supports you as you cling to his arms and struggle to stay upright in your laughter. You’re overflowing. He smiles and huffs, he can’t help that. He can’t help goosebumps either but you don’t need to know about those and he’ll never utter a word. He still needs to meet the dressmaker for alterations and finalize the appetizers, and make sure the kitchens send dinner to your door.

“Highness,” you breathe like a bird and try to collect yourself enough to stop laughing. You plop back onto your hips, “Highness–”

“Highness Highness,” he taunts. The sound of it will make his ears bleed. Bakugou palms for a handkerchief with one hand and lets you hold his other. You cling to the bite you left there. Your legs overlap. “This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.”

“Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.

It’s so easy, you don’t mean to. You are lightheaded in the warmth of the sunset, magic trembles across your sensitive skin and you only want to be closer. Just close enough to bury yourself in that place that is so safe and that fills you with such a horrible comfortable joy–

As Bakugou reaches inside his tunic for something you lean too close. Your chest falls over his lap before either of you remembers that it shouldn’t be like this, that there are a thousand other places your prince belongs and ten thousand rules you have engraved on the meat of your skull to keep comfort at bay. It’s so warm with your eyes closed and his smile tastes like cinnamon. He doesn’t pull away.

You only realize what’s happened after that smile falls dead against your lips. Venom and rage betray a soft exterior. He’s soft against your touch. He’s soft like he’s never fought a day in his life. Your hands hold his beautiful golden head right where you need it and in the quiet, your eyes open to blinding and beautiful sunlight.

A touch is all you wanted, gods know why– they’ll never tell you– and you draw your chin back an inch to breathe. Bakugou is staring violently and his eyes are more like targets now than cherry pits. Eyebrows wider, higher, than the sky, he stares like his heart has stopped. What happened? He doesn’t look like anyone but himself anymore. You freeze.

Prince Bakugou is staring at you until he’s not, on the itchy rug in the sunset of the great black catwalks, until his eyes close and he kisses you back. Soft, closed lips brush so hot they’ll leave a mark, they’ll brand you and everyone will know what you did. The doom spreads quickly. You have never been so graceless in your life as you are now, falling backwards out of his warmth and stumbling onto your feet. He’s still on the ground and you only know he is holding you because sweat drips from the fingers of yours that he clutches.

“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.

You run. Before you can breathe or be reasoned with, before you hear him call your name, you turn and dash through the back doorway alone. If this were Aldera, where would you hide? The frozen air of the seashell castle whispers straight through your flesh as you, sprinting, stumble your way past the castle’s vanity. There is a nook in the wall of the principal staircase where only Jeanist can find you. There is a seat on a high window in the Great Hall that you can reach with a library ladder. There are two tiny battlements in the east corner of your queen’s castle without a real way to get inside and on any day but a lightning storm, you can wedge a hunting knife in loose mortar and climb the masonry over its edge to lay and nap and stargaze at the tallest point of the most beautiful kingdom. An ant couldn’t hide in Takoba. There’s not one dark seam for the bugs.

A guard barely moves in time to avoid being crushed under your boots because fuck this horrible waterlogged place. The ocean drips out of your ears like tears from a seashell, drop by drop because you picked a fight with the goddess and thought yourself lucky to live before you realized she had made a home for herself inside your heart. Now you laugh with your prince and you touch him happily and you spar with him and hold nothing back and you tell him how much his magic helped you to live.

Resisting the urge to kill him, fighting to win Mitsuki’s favor, the threat of blue fire and a mage you doused in the sea, it was all so much easier than this. It could have been that easy forever, what were you thinking?

“Y/n!”

You weren’t, that’s what being too content gets you.

When Bakugou calls your name again his voice cracks because you are so much faster than he is at slipping through corridors. There is nowhere to hide in this awful country. Why are you running? If you were just slightly calmer you might have known where you were but white windows will always look like white windows and Bakugou is not so slow that you can ever really escape him.

You duck under a low wall and its hanging tapestry and emerge on the other side at the edge of a stretch of empty hall. Setting sunlight pours past ten silver vases and someone left a window open, so lace curtains flow around a pedestal with its silvery prize in the center. 

“Y/n, please.”

Agony. This isn’t what you want. When Bakugou calls to you one last time you have no choice but to face him because he has never asked for anything before, and when you do, tears drip off the highest parts of your cheeks.

He lets the tapestry fall over his shoulder and stops at the front of the long, long room. Neither of you speak for an eternity besides the sound of breath being caught again, him at the edge and you in the center being swayed by cold air. His shaggy hair has been pushed back too many times in his rush to follow you and his eyes glow unobstructed. Bakugou’s broad shoulders fit too perfectly into his baubled tunic. It’s easier to watch him than to think.

When he leans forward, you step back, and he pauses like you might start sprinting again.

He doesn’t realize there’s something rotten stuck in the depths of your throat that keeps you from straying too far.

“I–”

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, reading your mind. He’s never looked like this once in his whole life. He fell a step closer in his panic and when you do not run, his fists unclench from where they draw blood at his sides. “Don’t cry.”

You shake your head and he cautions another step. How can you ever go home now? How much longer can you survive here? The thought is suddenly and immediately overwhelming and Bakugou freezes when you drop your head into your hands. It’s too much, you can’t believe how badly you want to hate him again and how much easier it would be than this.

“Y/n,” he whispers. His voice is candled ash. You know exactly how close he is even with your eyes closed because Alderan fire is unmistakable and you know too that he’s giving you a moment to escape.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Prince Bakugou’s magic-worn hands reach up from where he wires them and you snatch them both, and all their kiln-fired warmth, out of the air before he can touch you like you might break the first finger that moves. You don’t mean to bare your teeth either, you hope you aren’t, if you are he doesn’t care. Your prince stands above you, brows knit and eyes stupid with worry.

“Forget,” you plead in whispers.

He pulls your grip higher so that he can rest his palms under your ears. You aren’t doing anything but hanging from him. He moves easily because you do not stop him and he brushes his thumbs over stray hairs and their wild shapes. Silence is worse than his rage, but he’s trembling and his eyes never once look away from yours. He’s studying, contemplating something that continues to break his heart.

“Highness.”

Bakugou cups your jaw like it might bruise and tilts your head up just enough to kiss you. He could not care less about broken fingers.

His lips quiver and press just once to yours before pulling back, reconsidering, and dipping into you again. Your hold on his hands and his hands at your throat are melting, shaking, sweating. His chest swells above yours. You melt with him because you have lost your mind and push against the body you know can hold you. It can pull you from a current and throw you over its shoulder. Bakugou can lift you in strong arms, he can make you laugh until not even an order could compose you at your station.

You part your lips to be closer. He tangles his fingers in your braids and lets you have whatever you want. Your prince tastes like his favorite pastries, and Alderan peaches, and gold, he tastes like he’s fireproof.

Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.

He holds your face now to move you as he’d like– four feet tripping over each other to find a wall– and you grip at the patterns on his tunic between stolen breaths and steps stumbled backwards. Magic crackles where he touches you like he can’t control himself. His voice comes out with his gasps in growls because there is too much and nothing to say. You have forgotten apologies.

“Your hands” he breathes between nips for the softest warm parts of you, “cold.”

“The window–” but he kisses you again before you can finish. His hands are shaking, he is a starving dog and still he holds you like you’re going to break. You terrify him.

How long have you wanted this? There’s not enough focus left for your brain to turn its wheel and if there was you wouldn’t have pulled him so close. You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.

At the end of cold hallways, where servants bustle and where there is still work to be done, the guard who barely survived your warpath ducks out from under the tapestry. He only wanted to check you were okay, but in the almost empty hallways Shinsou’s hand falls slack and his baton slips from it. It rings out against white marble and your heart stops beating at the same time as your prince. Your wheel groans in its new turning. The guard stares and you bristle.

You do not hear what Bakugou says in your panic but he does not let you go so easily this time. You will run, you’ll find somewhere to hide in this prison because that is your job and no one has ever done it better than you and there you will figure out what to do.

The last breath you take before darting away is shared in the sunset with your prince, and just as you turn in a hint of escape, Bakugou cups your cheeks one last time to keep you still. Your hands jump immediately back to his. He stares. His ragings eyes are a study over every inch of your face, even the parts squished and wrinkled in his hold. His magic vibrates unlit through your skin for one more second, just one more second he takes to look and then he whispers,

“Okay.”

You take off when he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner. Seedsized carvings raise their axes and little white waves fall. Sparks fight the chill on your jaw.

You forgo the seaside for fear of worrying your prince again. Manure pools around your pretty white boots because in the stables, horses don’t mind if you need to cry. The ocean swallows the last of the sun and you are suddenly a child again rinsing the blood from her face and into the hay and finding a dark place to hide. Every step is labor. Agitated white stallions complain to you in a line about their dinner and restlessness, and about chickens roosting inside uninvited, and about the woman who has sat here for hours and done nothing to help them.

The port city of Takoba simmers at twilight under the hill that the stable looks out on. Its waters are silver and beg you to join them on all sides from their great distance. They have the advantage as you turn your back to the view.

When you amble towards the last empty stall, a figure drowning in blue is perched on a bed of straw. She is sickly beautiful and she stares like she hates everything she gazes upon.

“Majesty,” you startle and forget to take a knee.

Where you tread carefully in borrowed clothes, the Takoban Queen is happy to ruin her gown  sitting up to her hips in straw beside a plain tawny horse. She runs a brush over the sheen of its mane.

“Yes?” She sighs, defeated, until she turns to you and cocks her head like she might have expected someone else. Hundreds of translucent layers fall over themselves in her skirt like a flower and catch imaginary light for every inch that she moves. There is an ache so deep in your bones, chilled first then charred like dipping cold hands in hot water, you struggle to compose yourself. You cannot muster the question of why a queen might be hiding in the belly of her stables. You could guess.

“You were crying.”

“Please don’t tell Mitsuki.”

When will you be allowed to go home? The queen looks between her horse and the space you haunt above her, and pulls a second curry comb from the depths of her soft straw seat. “They’ll find you if you stand in the open like that.”

The day drags on like a dream you have made from picturebooks of Aldera and the man that you will never be free of, but queens don’t much mind if you need to cry either. You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.

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