#characters are pro heroes

[bloody-bee-tea]

Beetober 2024 Day 19 - Wasting

Hitoshi can’t do this anymore.

It’s been three weeks since he ran into Bakugo by chance, three weeks after five blissful years of silence and now Bakugo is everywhere. And it seems he’s deliberately searching out Hitoshi as well, because whenever they cross paths, there’s a triumphant little smile on Bakugo’s face—one that does not make him hot, Hitoshi refuses to admit that—before he barges right into Hitoshi’s personal space and starts pestering him.

And sadly the circle isn’t broken today.

“You should go back to training,” Bakugo says as his greeting, roaming his eyes over Hitoshi’s body. “You need to get back into the swing of things if you want to get anywhere.”

“There’s no swing to get back into and there’s nowhere I want to get,” Hitoshi sighs out, completely exhausted by the constant badgering. “I am right where I want to be.”

“Bullshit,” Bakugo almost spits out and there’s a fire blazing in his eyes. “The only other person who wanted to be a hero even more badly than Deku and me was you. There is no way you’re happy where you are. No fucking way.”

Hitoshi slumps where he stands, a deep weariness draping over him and he lazily blinks at Bakugo.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe this is what I want to do? That things simply changed for me and I am happy where I am?”

Bakugo sneers at the mere suggestion.

“You’re better than this. You can do so much more. You just gotta work hard and you’ll make the fucking rankings in no time.”

Hitoshi hates to admit it but something about Bakugo’s insistent and unwavering faith in him warms Hitoshi down to the core. The thing is just that Bakugo has it all wrong because Hitoshi is a hero, just an underground one, and there is no way in hell he’s ever going to show up in any rankings, ever.

Not in the public ones, anyway.

There are rankings for underground heroes and Hitoshi is already so high up on those that it’s almost unbelievable, and there are only two other heroes outranking him but that is because they have been in the business for double the time Hitoshi has.

He’s gonna get them eventually, he knows that, especially with how more and more undercover missions come his way, more dangerous ones and ones that take months at a time.

Hitoshi’s gonna make the top, no matter what.

“Did I fucking lose you somewhere?” Bakugo snaps out, startling Hitoshi back into the here and now and Hitoshi lets out a weary sigh.

He wishes he could just shut Bakugo up, tell him exactly what kind of work he’s doing, but his entire existence is buried under so many NDAs that Hitoshi really fucking can’t. Bakugo might be one of the top ten, but he’s not allowed to know that Hitoshi is in any way affiliated with any kind of hero work.

He simply doesn’t have the clearance for it, and isn’t that kind of laughable.

“I’m tired,” Hitoshi simply gives back when Bakugo continues to glare at him and Bakugo scoffs.

“What? Police working you to your bone?” he asks and Hitoshi shrugs.

It’s a good cover, especially because he does consult for the police during kidnappings and hostage situations occasionally.

“Just didn’t sleep well,” Hitoshi mutters back, caught off guard by the sudden concern on Bakugo’s face but it’s not as if he can tell him that nightmares from his last mission keep him up at night.

“You need to work out more, tire yourself out, you moron. Come to my agency, I can get you a training plan,” Bakugo grumbles and it almost doesn’t sound like a threat but an offer so it takes Hitoshi a moment.

“I’m not going to train with you or at your agency,” Hitoshi firmly tells him because one, he already gets enough training as it is, two, there is no way in hell he’s going to let Bakugo train him for anything and three, if his handler catches him anywhere near one of the more popular agencies Hitoshi is dead meat.

“How do you keep finding me, anyway?” Hitoshi belatedly asks because he makes sure to alternate the routes he takes so as to not lead anyone close to his home or his preferred haunts but Bakugo always finds him effortlessly.

“I’m just good like that,” Bakugo shrugs, clearly completely confident in his abilities and Hitoshi hates that he kind of has to agree with him.

Not that he would ever say that out loud.

“Well, don’t be. I don’t want to see you again,” Hitoshi tells him right as he walks past Bakugo who thankfully doesn’t follow him but that doesn’t mean he lets him leave quietly.

“Come to my fucking agency!”

Hitoshi simply waves over his shoulder before he gets out his secure phone to text his handler.

Get someone to predict where I go. Dynamight keeps finding me and if he can, others might be able to as well, he shoots off and then submits himself to feeling watched basically 24/7.

The things he does to keep his identity hidden.

~*~*~

Dynamight must have bugged you, agents can’t keep up with you, is the answer he gets four days later after two more encounters with Bakugo and now that’s just insane.

So the next time Bakugo seeks him out, Hitoshi confronts him.

“Did you fucking bug me?” he asks, shoving Bakugo as soon as he’s in reach but Bakugo only blinks at him.

“Why the fuck would I need to do that?”

“You keep finding me!”

“That’s because you’re goddamn predictable,” Bakugo shoots back, though there is a smug smile on his face.

Now, Hitoshi knows for a fact that he is not predictable, because he makes it a point not to be and his handler confirmed he’s damn good at it, too, so Bakugo is spewing utter bullshit.

“How do you keep finding me?” Hitoshi presses out and Bakugo must realise that this is no longer just teasing because his face smooths out.

“I don’t know, I just do. I didn’t bug you and I don’t have anyone following you.”

“We didn’t run into each other for five years, what the fuck is going on?” Hitoshi whispers and he almost fears that the universe is playing a trick on him.

There is no other explanation for it, because he believes Bakugo. As crazy as that might sound.

“Well, can you just stop finding me?” Hitoshi asks after a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, because he can’t deal with this.

“Beats me,” Bakugo shrugs but he does walk away. “Offer to train still stands,” he calls over his shoulder before he vanishes and Hitoshi groans when he feels a new headache setting in.

Just what he needed today.

~*~*~

Hitoshi has no clue how it happens but he has coffee with Bakugo twice a week and they meet for dinner at least once. Always on accident.

It’s irrational and stupid and could honest to god endanger his entire career and yet they somehow end up at the same shop this afternoon again and then find themselves at the same table, too.

This is so stupid.

“I can’t believe this,” Hitoshi groans out just as Bakugo sits down opposite of him and he’s almost scared to pick his head out of his arms when he hears Bakugo slide something over the table to him. “What’s that?”

“Use your fucking eyes, moron,” Bakugo says, explaining absolutely nothing and so Hitoshi moves just enough to be able to make out the word ‘apprenticeship’ before he drops it back down with a groan.

“Absolutely not. Will you fucking drop it?”

“I would if you wouldn’t fucking waste your life away,” Bakugo snaps out and he sounds seriously angry. “You’re wasting your talent. You could be a damn good hero and yet here you are, rotting away. What the fuck happened to you? Where did all your goddamn ambition go?”

“Away, Bakugo. It happens sometimes, so just let it rest.”

Going by the way he works his jaw, Bakugo is not going to let it rest.

“It doesn’t have to be with me,” Bakugo says as he taps the flyer still on the table. “There are a number of other heroes who are good at what they do. My phone number is in there, give me a call when you find your fucking backbone.”

With that he slides out of the booth and leaves Hitoshi and his rapidly cooling coffee alone, for which Hitoshi should be grateful.

Instead he just feels tired.

~*~*~

“In how much trouble am I going to get if I just tell Bakugo I’m an underground hero?” Hitoshi asks as he barges into his parent’s home and immediately he has both their undivided attention.

“So much,” Yamada immediately says and Aizawa nods.

“Too much. Sit. Explain.”

Hitoshi doesn’t so much as sit but flop down on the couch, burying his head in the cushions and hoping that they might just smother him.

“What’s going on, Toshi?” Yamada asks as he gently cards his fingers through Hitoshi’s hair and Hitoshi can feel himself melting into the couch.

“Bakugo is going on,” he mutters and Yamada snorts, while Aizawa sits down on the ground, near Hitoshi’s head.

“What’s he doing?”

“Being an annoying, supportive prick,” Hitoshi grunts and forces himself to turn around.

He can’t quite find the strength to sit up, but this has to do.

“That—sounds like a pretty accurate summary of Bakugo, actually,” Yamada decides as he moves around the couch to sit at the other end, placing Hitoshi’s legs in his lap.

“He’s trying to figure out where you work?” Aizawa asks and Hitoshi snorts.

“I wish. Then he’d know I’m a hero and he would stop pestering me.”

“Pestering you about what?” Aizawa not so patiently asks and Yamada shuts him up.

“No, wait, wait, full stop. Since when are you talking to Bakugo, anyway?”

“That’s the entire problem, papa! I’m not! I don’t even know how this happened. One day he spots me in the streets and next I know, he’s everywhere. I swear to the gods, he has a sixth sense for me, because it doesn’t make sense otherwise. Our own agents can’t follow me or predict where I go and yet Bakugo is there, always. It’s driving me insane.”

“What does he want from you?”

“He wants me to become a hero,” Hitoshi whispers out and there is still enough of that jaded, hurt child left in him that the mere sentiment makes him feel warm.

He could have needed Bakugo’s unwavering faith ten years ago.

“He keeps making all these offers; wants me to train in his agency, wants me to do an apprenticeship, offers to connect me to people. It’s insane.”

“That—doesn’t sound like Bakugo at all.”

“He keeps going on about how I’m wasting my potential, how I could be so much more than I am. I really fucking want to tell him but my handler won’t let me,” Hitoshi complaints, because he’s had this talk with his handler several times already but no dice.

“Wow, Bakugo must really think a lot of you,” Yamada mutters out and Aizawa hums.

“You want to tell him?”

“I want him off my back,” Hitoshi gives back but Aizawa levels him with a look.

“You sure about that?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I think what your dad is trying to say is that this sounds a little bit like boy problems,” Yamada not-at-all helpfully chimes in and Hitoshi freezes.

“What the fuck.”

“I mean, come on. You come in here, just to complain about a boy. A boy, who as far as I understand it, goes out of his way to not only find you but also places his considerable faith in you. Bakugo’s expectations for others are almost as high as those for himself and if he thinks you can meet them then that certainly means something.”

“Oh no,” Hitoshi mutters out, completely horrified to realise that maybe all the meetings at coffee shops and their weekly dinners could have been dates. “Oh no, fuck no.”

“No, how am I just realising this or no, I hate Bakugo and don’t ever want to see him again?” Yamada asks for clarification and Hitoshi is completely mortified because it’s the first.

Fuck, how can it be the first?

“I guess that’s your answer right there,” Aizawa amusedly says as Hitoshi buries his face in his hands and lets out a groan as if he’s dying.

“This can’t be happening,” he mutters, because it can’t but maybe it is.

Maybe Bakugo’s unwavering faith in Hitoshi wore him down. Maybe spending time with Bakugo hasn’t been the worst. Maybe meeting him is a highlight of every given day and maybe Hitoshi is completely and utterly fucked.

“I can’t believe I actually like meeting him.”

“You like him. Of course you like meeting him.”

“He thinks I’m a fucking slob who only occasionally does consulting work with the police, I have no fucking chance.”

“From what I’m gathering from your breakdown here is that Bakugo is going out of his way to meet you and trying to get you back to something that meant the world to you. That doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t care.”

“You’re not allowed to be logical about this,” Hitoshi accusingly says, but of course Aizawa is unfazed.

“What do you want to do about it?” Yamada asks and that, at least is something Hitoshi can answer.

“Nothing. I already talked to my handler, I’m not allowed to tell Bakugo anything. And if I’m not allowed to do that, I’m not going to do anything. That’s not a basis for a relationship.”

Fuck, even saying that word makes Hitoshi go hot all over.

“I’m going to call in a few favours,” Aizawa decides as he gets up, leaving for his office before Yamada or Hitoshi can say anything.

“You think he’ll have any luck?”

“There are very many people who owe him one,” Yamada shrugs and sinks down deeper into the couch. “Seems like we’ll have to wait. Movie time?”

“Sure,” Hitoshi shrugs, because that might take his mind off Bakugo and that’s really all he wants right now.

He can come to terms with his feelings later.

~*~*~

It’s well into the second movie when the printer in Aizawa’s office starts to go off and Hitoshi and Yamada share a glance.

It seems as if Aizawa has gotten somewhere with his favours if he needs to print something and anticipation makes the tips of Hitoshi’s finger tingle.

All for naught, because it takes another hour before Aizawa comes out, a seriously frightening stack of papers in his hands.

“What is all of this?” Hitoshi warily asks as Aizawa dumps them into his lap.

“These are all the papers Bakugo needs to sign for you to be able to tell him that you’re a successful underground hero.”

Hitoshi blinks.

“All of these papers, just for that?”

“All of these papers, just for that,” Aizawa agrees. “If you want to talk to him about your agency or less classified mission details you’ll need to put him down as your confidant as well as medical proxy.”

Hitoshi immediately flushes because—well. That’s usually reserved for family and spouses and Bakugo really is neither and Hitoshi hates that the thought is tempting, still. He could just put Bakugo down as his confidant, have him sign even more papers and then be able to rant to him about his fucked up missions.

“Oh, he’s thinking about it,” Yamada whispers out and even Aizawa seems pained.

“Bakugo, really?” he asks, something he clearly wanted to do all this time and Hitoshi fights the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

“Yeah, well, apparently loud blondes are the way to go for us,” he snipes out as he gathers the papers together and gets up as Yamada sputters to the side.

“Thanks for this, dad. Seriously.”

“Whatever,” Aizawa says with an eyeroll but there’s a small smile on his face and Hitoshi darts in for a quick hug before he turns around to Yamada.

“Do let us know how it went,” Yamada pleads and Hitoshi nods, already fishing his phone out of his pocket.

He saved Bakugo’s number even though he never did end up sending him a message but it takes no time at all to type a short one out.

Meet me here, now. S. H. is all he sends, with his home address attached and he waits just long enough to see that it’s marked as read before he deletes everything again.

He might be excited, but he’s not stupid and he does like his job. He’s not going to jeopardize it just for Bakugo, even though the thought is tempting.

Fuck you, is Bakugo’s reply shortly after, and then a second message: omw.

“Alright, gotta go,” Hitoshi calls out, rushing to get his shoes on and then he’s out of the door without even hearing his parents wishing him good luck.

He makes it to his place before Bakugo, so it gives him some time to fret over this entire thing, but his spiral is interrupted when someone knocks at his door and Hitoshi rushes to open it.

“This better not be a booty call,” Bakugo grumbles as he pushes into the apartment and Hitoshi’s brain briefly shuts down, before he finds his footing.

“Why, you wouldn’t have come for that?” he asks, once his higher brain functions come back online and Bakugo only scoffs, which is not a no in Hitoshi’s opinion.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to read all of that and then sign them,” Hitoshi says and points to the towering stack of papers on his table.

Seriously, the amount of paperwork that goes into this is insane.

“The fuck is this?” Bakugo mutters as he sits down on the couch, pulling the papers closer and Hitoshi sees how his eyebrow rise higher and higher. “What is going on?” he finally asks after skimming the first page and Hitoshi mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away before he points at the papers again.

“Unless you sign these.”

Bakugo looks between the stack of paper and Hitoshi several times before he nods seemingly to himself and gets to reading. He takes it incredibly seriously, for which Hitoshi is thankful because not even he knows what’s in the fine print of these papers, but he guesses if Bakugo accidentally breaks any of the NDAs he’s about to sign he can kiss his career goodbye.

It takes Bakugo ages to go through all the pages and Hitoshi is a nervous mess the entire time but finally, finally Bakugo puts his signature on the last paper and Hitoshi lets out a sigh of relief.

“So what is all this bullshit about?”

“I’m an underground hero and I’m ranked third on our own ranking boards, so I’m kind of good at what I’m doing,” Hitoshi blurts out almost immediately and then he can finally relax.

“What the fuck,” Bakugo says after a lengthy pause and he sounds seriously angry, which makes Hitoshi wary. “Was it funny letting me make a fool out of myself all this time?” he then snaps and Hitoshi sits up, pinning him with a glare.

“This—” he points at the papers “—did not come cheap. I’m not allowed to talk about any of this shit. My parents know because they are my parents and that’s it. I had to go in several times because you kept finding me when not even our own agents could. They did a sweep of my entire apartment and I had to change my phone three times because you kept finding me. Aizawa had to call in a lot of favours for me to be able to tell you even that much because my handler is adamant that you don’t get to know. I couldn’t tell you shit, not before this. And I’m taking my job seriously, Bakugo.”

Bakugo works his jaw for a moment longer before he finally deflates.

“As you fucking should,” he admits and rubs a hand over his face. “Underground, huh? Makes sense, stupid of me not to consider,” he mutters and Hitoshi shrugs.

“It works best for my quirk. Aizawa got me in and then things just took off.” He pauses briefly. “I’m not allowed to talk missions with you, or about my agency. Just—if I vanish without warning, I’m—working.”

“Working,” Bakugo repeats with a nod and then leans forward. “So now what? You did this to make me back off? Finally annoyed by me assuming the worst of you?”

“Charmed that you even had any kind of faith in me, more like,” Hitoshi shoots back, “and kind of hoping that with this out of the way we can finally talk about other shit during our—” he almost says dates but bites himself off at the last possible second. “Meetings,” he finally finishes lamely and going by the smirk on Bakugo’s face he knows exactly what Hitoshi wanted to say.

“Fine,” Bakugo says as he gets up and Hitoshi freezes completely when he’s suddenly right in his space. “I’ll find you for our next date,” he whispers, way too close to Hitoshi already and yet Hitoshi is still surprised when Bakugo’s lips brush over his.

The contact is brief, fleeting, and by the time Hitoshi comes back online, Bakugo is already out of the door.

“I hate you,” Hitoshi yells after him because what the fuck was that but the only answer he gets is the closing door.

At least until his phone chimes in his pocket.

Tell me about it over coffee is the message he finds and yeah.

Hitoshi thinks he will do exactly that.

[hyuge]

Baby Daddy

Camie and Bakugou dated for a bit in high school but quickly realized it wasn't going to work and broke it off mutually. They stayed friends afterwards, no biggie. Several years later, Camie shows up at Bakugou's doorstep because she's pregnant and the dad didn't want anything to do with it. She wants to keep the baby but she's freaking out and needs someone more levelheaded than she is to talk to. Bakugou, who actually really loves kids, tells her he's gonna help her out the whole way through. He agrees not to go murder the asshole that would bail on her but he's pissed so he is just going to channel that energy into being the best fucking uncle that kid'll ever have.

Meanwhile, Kirishima is finally working up the nerve to confess his many years long crush on Bakugou. He tells himself he's finally going to do it. Bakugou hasn't really dated anyone in a long time, they're both established in their careers, they spend all their time together already, and then he gets a call from Bakugou.

"I need to tell you something but you have to keep it to yourself. It's really important that this doesn't get around."

Kirishima smiles and says, "Yeah, sure. Anything for you."

And then Bakugou tells him that Camie is at his apartment and she's pregnant. Kirishima drops his phone in a panic, heart racing. He knew Camie and Bakugou were still close and that he never really dated anyone after her. He just assumed they were just friends. Bakugou said the breakup was mutual. But was it really? had bakugou lied about it to save face and the reason he hadn't dated anyone up to this point was because he still had feelings for her? But then if they were back together, why wouldn't Bakugou have told him? Kirishima scrambles to pick up the phone but he can't think straight, so he doesn't hear anything else Bakugou is saying. "I'm sorry. I gotta go."

"What? Kirishi-"

He hangs up the phone. Kirishima has a meltdown thinking he waited too long and missed his chance.

Bakugou can't get ahold of him for awhile after that. He's pissed, but he pushes it aside because he promised to help Camie and he still has hero work to do. So he does the things her boyfriend should have. He takes her to the doctor, helps her pick out baby stuff, makes sure she's eating the proper meals a pregnant woman needs.

At one point Camie slips going down the stairs and Bakugou calls Todoroki. He tells him to bring his brother over because they need a doctor and he's not taking Camie to the ER where there's a bunch of nosy fuckers. Natsuo looks her over, says she's okay but if anything starts to hurt or feel off to give him a call. Bakugou tells Camie to move in with him until the baby comes. His place is bigger and this way he can keep an eye on her better. She's annoyed but agrees. Meanwhile, Bakugou still can't get ahold of Kirishima.

When Kirishima finally answers the phone he laughs awkwardly and makes an excuse about work being busy. Bakugou tells him that Camie's moving in and asks if he can help move stuff. Kirishima says he can't because he's busy that day (a lie).

Eventually, they're spotted baby shopping. Photos of them buying a crib and looking at baby clothes are plastered all over the internet. Bakugou never checks skeezy news sites, but Camie googles herself daily. The headlines are already twisted:

"IllusoMight having a baby?" "Pro Hero Dynamight and Pro Hero IllusoCamie spotted baby shopping!" "...sources say Dynamight and IllusoCamie dated in high school. It would seem their breakup wasn't as permanent as people thought!"

Camie yells for Bakugou from the other room. "Hey babe, I think you should look at this." Before he can even see what she's yelling about, his phone is ringing. Denki's name is on the screen when Bakugou answers.

"You're having a baby?!"

"What the fuck are you on about, sparks for brains?"

"It's all over the news. Pictures of you and Utsushimi baby shopping." Bakugou curses and rushes to the other room. Camie's holding her phone up with the screen facing him. "Why didn't you tell us you two were back together?"

"We're not," Bakugou growls. "I'm just helping her out because some asshole knocked her up and bailed."

"Were you the asshole?"

"Shut up." Bakugou hangs up the phone and collapses onto the sofa next to her.

Camie makes a joke about how the photos were pretty good candid shots. He glares at her and she sighs, holding her arms out for him to cuddle. Bakugou rests his head on her stomach and feels the baby kicking his face. He's so mad because fuck those shitty paparazzi, and the one person he wants to talk to the most isn't answering the phone.

He decides to try calling Kirishima again. After the third attempt, he picks up the phone. "Hey. I can't really talk I'm-"

"Busy. I know." Bakugou interrupts. His voice cracks.

"Hey. Hey, what's wrong?"

Bakugou sighs. "Can you come over? Please?"

There's a long pause before Kirishima finally answers with an, "Okay. I'll be there in twenty."

When Kirishima finally shows up he looks around the apartment before asking, "Where's Utsushimi?"

Bakugou waves him inside the apartment. "In her room, resting."

"Her room?"

Bakugou narrows his gaze at him. "Yeah, her room."

Kirishima has a confused look on his face, but shakes his head, deciding not to say whatever it is that was on his mind. "So, what's going on?"

Bakugou sits on the armrest of his sofa and sighs in defeat. "It's this whole pregnancy thing. I guess word started to spread."

"Oh," says Kirishima. "I know you wanted to keep a secret. I'm sure it's hard having a baby as a pro hero when you're not married."

"Mm. Camie seems more chill about it than expected. I think it helps that everyone online is saying how she's glowing. As if she couldn't make herself glow begin with." He rolls his eyes.

Kirishima nods slowly. "What about you? A baby's a huge change. That's gotta be hard."

"S'not like it's really my responsibility."

Kirishima actually looks mad about that for some reason. "Of course it's your responsibility! How could you say something so flippant when you're about to be a dad?"

"What?"

"You're having a baby but you're saying it's not your responsibility," explains Kirishima.

"I'm not having a fucking baby."

"What?" This time it was Kirishima's turn to be confused.

"Did you not hear anything I said to you on the phone before?"

"Um..." Kirishima's cheeks flushed red and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I told you some asshole knocked her up and ditched. I'm just helping her out."

Kirishima's eyes grow rounder than Bakugou had ever seen them before. "So... You're not having a baby?"

"No."

"And you're not back together with Utsushimi?"

"No."

"And you're not still in love with her?"

"Hell. Fucking. No."

And then Kirishima is so visibly relieved that without thinking he reaches for Bakugou and pulls him into a kiss, startling him, but he doesn't fight it. They straighten out their feelings after that, and of course because Camie is Camie, she had the whole thing recording in a livestream to clear up any and all internet confusion on whether or not Dynamight was her baby daddy.

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary Confinement

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 678

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“Jirou, are you getting anything?” Hizashi speaks into his mic while kicking the fourth guard he’s knocked out from his path. 

The heroine sighs into the receiver, “Only some weird shuffling from sub-level three, but it could be mechanical. This building is massive, who knows what’s down there.”

“Heard.” He chews on his lip, pulling another tranquilizer from his pack and loading it into the gun. 

There are only four heroes at this location, something that Hizashi vehemently opposed, considering this was a rescue mission. There were six possible hideouts they had to check, and unfortunately not an unlimited supply of heroes available to work the case. 

“Three more ahead of you and I can’t clock anything else.” Jirou relays, the wind from outside rustling in her comm.

Hizashi nods to himself and continues, easily taking two more guards out. The farther he goes the less hope he has that Tokoyami is even here. 

Three weeks ago the hero had been kidnapped on patrol. He’d been alone since typically daylight routes are less dangerous, but Hizashi knew that mindset would kick them in the ass one day.

They received a ransom note from some underground ring of some sort. Drugs, trafficking, it didn’t matter at that point. They were getting desperate and took a hero as a last-ditch effort to face less punishment. Probably why there were barely any people here. 

He makes his way down two levels, reaching one last guard who looks like he could be in charge. 

“What are you guarding down here?” Hizashi asks on a whim, holding the mangled warden in his hands. 

He gives Hizashi a bloody smile, “The lights.”

Hizashi glances up at the dim lights and then the panel outside the padlocked door behind him. It looks well-sealed, with a small switch next to it flipped off. 

The man coughs, splattering blood on Hizashi’s jacket, “He shut up when we turned the lights off.”

Hizashi fumes, disposing of the guard swiftly. “Earphone Jack, be advised and call medical. I think he’s here.” 

“Really? Is he unconscious?”

“I don’t know, they said they’d been keeping him with the lights off. Dark Shadow might have done something.” He contemplates, flicking the light on and beginning to turn the large spoke handle. 

“Medical is on their way, are you able to get to him without assistance?” 

He grunts, hearing the door’s seal hiss as he tugs it open, “Not sure yet. If he’s just behind the door then-” His mouth clicks shut without his permission. The air thickens in his lungs. 

“Mic? Is everything ok?”

“Jirou. Let medical know they cannot come down here until Eraserhead is with them.” 

“What is it, Mic? Is he okay? Should I send for Recovery Girl as well?” 

Mic turns away from the scene in front of him, repressing the urge to vomit.

“No, Jirou. This is now a recovery mission.” He winces at her audible reaction. 

“You’re… you’re sure? What if Recovery Girl can help-”

“Kid, he’s been gone for a while. They kept him down here alone with the lights off, I think his quirk… I just need Eraser in case it’s still in his body.” 

“Oh my god- I’m gonna… um… I’m gonna patch you through.” 

There’s a moment of silence followed by a few beeps. 

“Mic? What’s going on? The page says you changed the status to recovery.” Shouta’s voice is comforting, and Mic finally allows himself to breathe for a moment, stepping out of the small room. 

“Shouta, he… I think he lost control of Dark Shadow. I don’t know how long he made it but… There’s barely anything left. He tore him apart.”

“Fuck!” Shouta curses, “You’re sure he’s…?”

Hizashi forces himself to turn back around. He walks towards the body, crouching down barely within reaching distance. 

He holds his fingers out to the hand laying limp on the floor. Flinching back at the feeling, he sighs and removes his jacket to cover Tokoyami’s twisted neck and head shoved behind his back against the concrete wall he’s leaning on. 

“He’s… cold.”

[cheese-doorstop48]

Izuku has his own problem children now

[into-the-feniverse]

It’s Dabi’s birthday over here in the states now so have some doodles 🔥

[treef-greef]

No. 2 Pro Hero !

no. 2 pro.... hero... ?

[sultrysparkles]

USELESS₊˚⊹♡

[•~AGEDUP!PROHERO!MIDORYIA X F!READER~•] smut/slight angst

synopsis: your pro hero boyfriend comes back angry and hurt and needs a way to relieve some stress

warnings: dom!izuku sub!reader degradation, spanking, use of "whore" and "slut", praise

a/n: pt.2?

the front door slams, which is soon accompanied by faint footsteps gradually getting louder and louder. they sounded urgent and quick. the suspense making your heart race and stomach drop.

you leave your room to further investigate the sudden footsteps, only to be greeted by your boyfriend, izuku sat on the couch. but something was off about him. he didn't have his usual soft and caring personality. his aura wasn't so welcoming and gentle.

"please izuku, baby- just talk to me..." you sigh. izuku had just came home from a mission and he seemed frustrated. and you had been urging the man to open up, after all izuku wasn't the type to get angry easily.

"I told you I'm fine." he shuts you off again. that's all he had been repeating for the last 10 minutes. he kept brushing you off, ignoring the obvious tint of worry slowly spreading all over your face.

"baby please- tell me-"

"fine. you wanna know so bad huh? just can't leave me alone. I'll show you then, since you can't mind your own fucking business." he snaps. you've never seen this side of him. he looked so angry, and frustrated. he was fed up with whatever it was bothering him.

izuku grabs your hands forcefully, his grasp making it impossible for you to even attempt to break through. but it wasn't like you would try to, seeing izuku so fed up and furious sorta turned you on, but you would never tell him that.

eagerly, the green haired man drags you to your sharfed bedroom, slamming the door as quickly as he could. he shoves you onto the mattress, his shadow towering all over you. before you could realize his rough calloused hands reach for the hem of your shorts, toying with the waistband.

"can I?" izuku always made sure he had your approval before doing anything, after all his biggest fear is hurting you. you nod, completely lost in the sudden adrenaline rush.

izuku sighs, his frustration grows even more, he delivers a soft but warning slap on your leg. "y'know better, use your words." it was evident he wasn't messing around. "you can..." was all it took before izuku slides your shorts off in one swift motion, leaving one small rip in them.

you sigh loudly at the sensation of the cold air hitting your naked legs. then a finger runs all over your panties, teasing your soaking hole, slick seeping through the soft cotton fabric. he smirks at the sight. "mm-, didn't know I could do this to ya, makes me feel kinda useful for once..." he chuckles, fingers rubbing your clothed clit.

deep breaths quicken as you ache for more stimulation, hips slowly grinding against his finger. izuku sucks his teeth before holding your hips down, restricting you from any movement. "if you want more, you gotta ask princess." he adds, a cocky grin painted all over his face.

"p-please zuku- more.." you mumble out. he scoffs loudly again, another slap meeting your thigh, this time a little bit harder. "for what? don't act dumb now." he snaps, fingers now rubbing over your clothed clit even slower. despite how humiliated you felt, you were so desperate for more. "please baby, I need you in me..."

panties are thrown across the bedroom, your bare pussy out for him. he lets a hand rub all over your inner thighs, collecting all the arousal which seeped out. "looks like I don't needa prep you huh, pretty girl? but what else did I expect from a slut like you.." he chuckles before reaching down to his belt.

he slowly unbuckles the belt, before stopping suddenly. "nah, since you wanted to piss me off, you do it." grabbing one of your soft gentle hands and placing them on his belt. and you oblige, you didn't care what it took, all you wanted was his cock in you right now.

you unbuckle his belt and slide his boxers off, freeing his girthy cock. his hairs were trimmed and his tip was a rosy pink, veins decorating the length. izuku shudders, "mmm, what do you want baby?" he cooes, hands caressing your cheek.

"I want youu-zuku please put it in" you beg, your eyes staring back up at him so gently. izuku smiles warmly for a split second, distracting you from the fact he had just pushed your legs all the way down to your chest, knees touching your chest. he slams himself in, the girth stretching you out, leaving you with a painful yet pleasurable burn.

the two of you let out breathy moans, which are soon disturbed from izuku's sudden harsh thrusts. usually when you two had sex, he was so gentle and sweet. slow but passionate thrusts as he whispered sweet nothings in your ears. but right now, you weren't even sure if this was the same izuku you knew before.

"everybody sayin im fuckin useless..." he groans, hips bucking into your even quicker, making you yelp out with pleasure. his cock moving in and out of your walls at an impossible speed. "always talking about m'not good for anything." he scoffs

you now were beginning to piece together what had happened earlier, what left izuku so angry earlier. you knew people would constantly mock him for his quirk, and his backstory. and usually he wouldn't care, after all why should he? but today was his breaking point.

"m'not useless though..." he mutters, hi thrusts getting sloppier, hands pushing your legs down even more. "isn't that right? nobody could ever fuck my girl as well as I can" he affirms, hands tilting your chin down, maintaining eye contact.

you nod, too lost in the pure bliss you were experiencing from the sensation of feeling his pelvis grind against your clit. not only that, but izuku was ramming into your g-spot in the right place too. making you sob for more.

"I asked you a question." he grunts, his thrusts getting harder and harsher as he slaps your thigh swiftly. making you yelp as you feel the sharp sting. "m- sorry! you- you fuck me so good zuku'" you cry out. you couldn't believe the erotic words leaving your lips right now. it was so embarrassing.

"yeah, dunno what they talking about. always talking shit. bet they none of them could even get you to the brink of an orgasm hm?" he grunts. at this point he was just mumbling to himself. too lost in his frustrated thoughts.

you could feel the edge of an orgasm overtake you. "f-f-fuck!! zuku! gonna cum-" you squeal. izuku groans, and sighs, an annoyed expression planted all over this face. "did I say you could? I wasn't done princess. hold it." he commands as he continues to fuck you into the mattress.

but you couldn't- not when he looked so hot all stressed and furious. the sweat beading off his forehead as he fucked you like a dirty whore. you twitch, body jolting up quickly. the overwhelming feeling of pleasure filling you up. your cum coats his cock quickly, making izuku whimper loudly.

"shit- didn't I tell you not to cum? dirty whore couldn't even listen to my directions. shouldn't have expected you to listen though, you selfish little brat." he scolds, harshly slapping your clit. leaving you sobbing loudly.

"guess I gotta show you how to be a good girl then."

[fujoshirat]

✩₊˚.Belated Housewarming—Literally!

Shouto Todoroki x reader

Summary: After your husband's job as a hero deprives you of intimacy and loving, you decide to make his birthday unforgettable with a heartfelt surprise that reminds him just how much he’s missing. The most important part of your plan? That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron hanging in your closet.

Warnings: A18+ (MINORS DNI), FILTHY smut, porn w/ plot, sex marathon, dom!Shouto and sub!reader, cursing, pet names, missionary, doggy style, squirting, oral (female receiving), upstanding citizen, three-legged stance, inappropriate use of a home but whatever floats your (Shouto’s) boat, breeding kink, domestic kink, temperature play, slight angst in the beginning but overall fluff and smut :)

Author's Note: Happy birthday to the man I fell in love with in 2020 ( ˊᵕˋ )♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The soft clunk of the dryer shutting off echoed through the quiet house, signaling the end of yet another cycle. Bending down, you toss the clean clothes into the laundry basket and walk to the dining table. The entire house is quiet, save for the soft sound of rain outside and the ruffling of clothes being folded.

Yup, this was your married life: silence in a punctual routine while living in an empty house that felt too large without your husband. For all the joy your wedding brought, no one had warned you how lonely it could feel to be married to the second-best pro hero in Japan.

And you have had enough!

It’s been one year since he proposed, 10 months since you moved in together, and 3 months since you both got married. You knew about what you were signing yourself up for. However, nothing could prepare you for what it was really like being married to a pro hero, no less the second best pro hero in all of Japan! A month after your wedding, Shouto had to hop on a plane to America for a mission with other pro heroes, leaving you alone in the house for three weeks. And in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Shouto would come home exhausted from work and patrol. It would be just past 11, just as you were tucking yourself in to bed (Shouto begged you to go to bed at an early time, even if he wasn’t home yet, but you found that hard to do), and your husband would open the front door. You would feel your heart skip: finally, he was home. But then, he’d stumble through the bedroom door with a tired sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue, and you could see the toll his day had taken on him. His uniform would be rumpled, his hair slightly damp from sweat and snow, and his pretty heterochromatic eyes would be soft and dazed as he quietly greeted you.

“Welcome home, Shou.”

“Tadaima.”

“Long day?”

“Mhm…”

“Are you hungry? I made chazuke for dinner earlier.”

“…”

“Perhaps a warm bath?”

“…”

You’d try to stay awake, to offer him something, anything that might lift his spirits—your smile, a warm meal, even a conversation. But all he seemed to need was sleep, and that’s what he’d do. He’d change into his pajamas (simple black shorts), kiss your forehead, and collapse into bed next to you (whose exhaustion was also a massive headache).

You were absolutely sexually frustrated and terribly missed your husband. As days went on, you longed for more than just his presence in the room. You wanted him. But the mission schedules, late night patrol shifts, and endless demands of Japan left you feeling distant.

Yeah, you were screwed.

And you couldn’t blame him. It had been his dream to become his own hero, not for his father, not to surpass All Might, but for himself. It was his calling, and the nature of his work, no, responsibility, naturally required much time and effort. However, you felt like it only widened the gap between you two as the days went on.

At least Christmas was decent. He finally took off time from work for the important holiday and stayed home with you for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Those two days consisted of cuddling on the couch, hours of talking while a random TV show played in the background. You also visited his family for Christmas Eve dinner and stayed home the entire time on Christmas day.

And now, it was January. It was a new year, but most importantly, Shouto’s birthday was fast approaching. You were sick of this abstinence, it needed to end already! The last time your husband had touched you was 4 months ago on your honeymoon! Grumbling to yourself, you dig a hand through the laundry basket until you find the matching sock and continue your folding. ‘Don’t be selfish, Y/N! You knew that marriage wouldn’t be picture perfect! Get a grip!! Ugh, but I’m so pent up! I need the affection!’

You must be ovulating or really really REALLY horny right now because look at you, arguing with your voices in your head! Sighing to yourself, you finish the last of your laundry and head upstairs to start putting it away. After doing so, you check the time on your phone, the lock screen a picture of you and Shouto cutting the wedding cake at your wedding (photo courtesy of Izuku), and it brings a wistful smile on your face. You looked so happy, and so did he. Shaking your head, you pout and check the time: 10:59am. Getting ready to put the laundry basket away so that you could figure out what to eat for lunch, you spot something in the corner of your eye in the closet.

Upon closer inspection, you open the closet door and see your pink, frilly cooking apron hanging. ‘Huh, weird, I must have been so tired cooking dinner last night that I threw it in here.’ Taking it out, you put it on mindlessly in preparation for in case you need to make lunch because there aren’t enough leftovers. As you walk past the mirror and to the bedroom door, you pause in your steps. Your eyes widen when you an idea comes to mind as you remember how you looked in the corner of your eye when you passed by the mirror.

The apron, with its delicate trim, was really nothing special. It was a simple, pink, frilly apron that you had bought before moving into the house with Shouto. However, in this instant, the delicate lace trim, extra pink bows, and its slightly playful charm instantly sparked a thought. You had always loved cooking for Shouto (and he loved your cooking too), but it wasn’t just about the meals anymore. It was about what you could do for him—what you could show him. You could almost picture the look on his face if he found you, wearing nothing but that apron, waiting for him to come home. That thought sent a thrill up your spine, and you quickly caught your breath, heart racing a little too fast for comfort.

That idea was what you needed, and you knew exactly when to do it and what to prepare. Running down the stairs, you eagerly check the pantry. ‘Y/N! You naughty girl! What are you thinking?’ God, you were mad, insane, the surge of excitement building up in your head like your bottled emotions these past few months. You make a mental note to buy more soy sauce and extra buckwheat noodles tomorrow on your daily grocery store run. It was currently January 03, and you had exactly one week to prepare for Shouto’s birthday. Your idea felt so right, so tantalizing. Surely Shouto was pent up as well? Prior to engagement or marriage, you two never avidly had sex, nor did you avoid it.

And it was his birthday, more importantly, his first birthday celebrated with his wife, you. You wanted it to be extra special, to be a sexy happy memory made in this house. You wanted to make the day about him, so why not kill two birds with one stone? Squealing to yourself, you start cooking up lunch while scrolling through Instagram to find the open hours of a bakery down the street.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

At 6:45am, you slipped out of bed as quietly as you could with as little movements as possible. Taking off your pajamas, you could feel the warm, tantalizing bed with the most handsome birthday boy on earth trying to entice you back to bed. But, no, you were stronger than this! You threw the silky pajamas in the hamper and easily put on your “lingerie:” the lacy, pink, frilly apron. Next, you brush your hair as neatly as possible and put on light blush and mascara to look even more delicious. You have to hold back a squeal when you look at your appearance in the mirror. The flimsy material covered enough to leave room for imagination as well as exposed your body just next to those enticing areas. You felt like the epitome of the balance of sweet and sultry—like Sabrina Carpenter concert outfits—exactly what you were going for!

Your thighs weren’t killing you as much as they did these past few days (you did 50 squats from January 03 to 09, and then 30 yesterday to soothe your poor muscles and give them a break before the real workout you desired). Squats are no joke, but anything to be closer to a BBL on this special day! Entering the kitchen, you open the fridge and pull out a simple, white box. You place it on the counter and hum to yourself, ‘Do I make the cold soba now? Or should I wait?’ You tapped a finger to your chin, glancing at the clock on the wall: 7:01 a.m. There was still plenty of time before you planned to wake Shouto up, so you decided you might as well start cooking. The sooner everything was ready, the smoother your plan would go (plus, you weren’t sure if your legs would be okay if you had to cook lunch in between ykw).

After making your husband’s favorite meal, you quickly throw it in the fridge and grab the cake. Running upstairs as quietly as you can, you let out a relieved sigh when you see that Shouto hasn’t woken up yet—still sprawled on his side, one arm tucked under your pillow (that was “pretending” to be you). Your heart pounded with excitement, and at 7:30am, you place the cake on the dresser. Leaning over, you gently brush a strand of hair from his face.

“Shouto,” you quietly murmur, “wake up, birthday boy.” He stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, his soft expression shifting as his brows furrowed slightly and his nose scrunched up. “Mmm…” You have to hold back a laugh—he’s so cute!

“Shouto,” you call a little louder, amusement evident in your tone, “time to wake up!”

This time, his mismatched eyes flutter open, clouded with sleep. His left hand reaches up to caress your cheek as his right hand rubs his eyes. For a moment, he blinked his sleepiness away, still looking up at your face.

He smiled tiredly, exhaustion from last night’s patrol evident, until, in the corner of his eye, Shouto swears that you’re wearing a tank top. Tilting his head slightly downward, his gaze lands on what you’re wearing.

“Good morning, and happy birthday!” you smile shyly, desperately trying to ignore the burning feeling in your cheeks. “Did you sleep well?” Face filled with confusion, his eyes wander down further, and he takes in what you’re wearing (or rather, not wearing)—just one article of clothing (if it could even be called that):

That damned lacy, frilly, pink apron that you use when cooking.

Pink dusts his cheeks, mouth opening to speak, then closing. Shouto was speechless, realizing what today’s occasion was.

“Y-you’re—” His voice gets caught in his dry throat, and he swallowed hard. “Y-you’re wearing just that?” You tilted your head innocently, pretending not to understand. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

Shouto blinked, his hand reaching out almost instinctively to rest lightly on your hip, his fingers brushing the soft ribbon tied around your waist. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur. You giggle at this and move his hand away. “Ah-ah-ah! That, is for later. Aren’t you hungry for breakfast? I got you a cake!” You cheerfully open the cake box and hold it up to him. The fluffy sponge and layers of whipped cream topped with plump, glistening strawberries all add to the strawberry shortcake’s appeal. You watch Shouto sit up straighter, eyes practically sparkling at his breakfast.

“Strawberry shortcake,” he murmurs, “my favorite.” You smile and stand a little closer to him. “I know! That’s why I got it-” Suddenly, you’re cut off when his palm grabs your plump flesh. Not expecting this, you slightly jolt in surprise and grip onto the cake so to not let the beautiful creation get destroyed.

“I want this cake for breakfast, Y/N.” His velvety, smooth tone sends shivers down your spine—and the smirk on Shouto’s face and his mismatched eyes full of mischief blatantly focused on the furious blush on your face tells you all that you need to know: That bastard knows that he’s doing!! “Shou!” You huff, voice wavering as you try to ignore your burning cheeks, “Behave yourself! Let me feed you your breakfast.”

Your husband visibly pouts but lets out a sigh and leans back slightly. Who was he to deny his pretty wife from feeding him? You smile triumphantly, setting the cake box on the nightstand and sliding onto the edge of the bed beside him. Grabbing a fork, you carefully cut a perfect bite from the Strawberry Shortcake, making sure to get just the right balance of sponge, cream, and strawberry.

“Open wide, birthday boy,” you quip cheerfully, holding the fork up to his lips. The man smiles and obediently opens his mouth. “Ah~” Taking a bite, his expression turns even softer. A soft hum of appreciation escapes his throat, making it known that the cake was delicious. “It’s really good, love. Thank you.” “Mhm! It’s no problem at all!” Waiting for him to finish chewing and swallow, you bite back a smirk as you prepare for the next bite.

It was time for part 2 of your plan.

Reaching over to the cake, you use the plastic butterknife (harmless, I promise!) to scoop up a little bit of the frosting from the cake. Your husband looks at you curiously, unsure of what you’re doing.

And then, the cool feeling of the sugary frosting hits just above the valley of your chest, right where the top of the apron above your cleavage is. To add the cherry on top (or should I say, strawberry hahahahaha okay fine i’m not funny ig sorry), you place a plump strawberry right in the middle of the cream. Shouto’s eyes widen, and it widens even further when you teasingly tug the apron a little lower to show off your bare body for a few seconds. Innocently, you look at your husband. “Shouto,” you speak sweetly, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong, love?” You watch him swallow. Hard. His gaze lingers on the frosting, then flickers back up to your face.

“I said I was gonna feed you, right?” You bite back a giggle when you notice his hands gripping the blanket.

“Come and eat, birthday boy.”

Shouto gulps, eyes glued to your chest, as he moves over to you. His strong arms wrap around your waist as his warm breath hits your collarbone. He looks up at you with lidded eyes as he slowly rubbed your hands along your exposed hips. “If I come and eat, I won’t let you escape, okay?” You couldn’t tell if your husband was horny or trying to be cute, but his cheeks were still painted that lovely shade of red. Not thinking much of it (have we learned nothing??), you nod. “Mhm! It’s your birthday breakfast, remember?” Shouto’s eyes darken as he moves his face close to your exposed breasts.

“Itadakimasu.”

Warm, wet muscle dances along the valley between your soft chest. Biting back a moan, your head tilts upward, hands flying to Shouto’s hair. “S-shou…” No response: the red and white haired man was too busy going down on your divine body. He licks off the whipped cream frosting and starts eating the strawberry. Suddenly, he nips at your soft skin, eliciting a yelp from you. “Shouto!” you chastise him, but he interrupts you with another bite.

“God,” he mutters, “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks flush red again and you bite your lip to stifle and noises. You don’t even notice that Shouto has finished the dessert on your body and is looking up at you with a lovestruck expression. His calloused hands rub small circles at your waist to calm you. “My love, are you alright? Was I too rough?” You nod and look at him with a smile. “I’m okay!” The man lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“You know, I really like this surprise. It’s been so long and I didn’t realize how much I was holding in.” His eyes look down a little shyly from his honesty, and your heart melts.

“Oh, darling, I’ve been pent up too.” You gently touch his cheek while Shouto’s eyes widen at the revelation. You’ve been pent up this entire time? “Since when?” You let out a gasp at the question and look away shyly.

“D-don’t laugh!” "I won't laugh, I promise," he says, his voice tender without any trace of mocking as he reaches up to lift your chin so you can meet his gaze.

“U-uhm… Since you left to America...” His eyes widen in shock. “That long?” You watch his face contort from one of shock to one of regret once realization hits him like a wave.

He had been neglecting you, and he didn’t mean it.

“Y/N, I…” He bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, shorter than when you first met him. “Shit, I… I’m so sorry I didn’t notice-” “No, no, no! It’s okay, it’s not your fault!” You wave your hands around in front of you as you try to reassure him. “I just didn’t want to say anything or bother you because you’ve been so busy and tired and stressed and-!” Shouto cuts you off mid-frenzy-of-an-explanation by grabbing your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I should have noticed how much you were holding in,” he murmurs regretfully, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. He wasn’t frustrated with you, he was frustrated with himself. “God, how many times did I ignore you? Every time I went straight to bed from patrol? Shit, love, I…” Shouto’s voice falters, and you could see the guilt weighing on him.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I was so focused on missions, and I just... I didn’t see how badly you were hurting, how much you needed me here. I wasn’t there when you needed me most.” You have to blink back tears at his statement. What he said was true, but you didn’t want him to shoulder the blame. It wasn’t his fault. “Shouto,” you whisper, “It’s okay. I know how important your work is for you, and I support you.” He shakes his head, rendering you confused.

“No, Y/N, I should have made you my priority, not my work.” His eyes burn with fierce intensity, gazing into yours as if they were wishing stars.

“You are my priority, and as your husband, I’ve completely failed in showing you that you are my priority.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you sniffle. “D-don’t say that,” your voice is wobbly as you reach up to wipe a stray tear, “Y-you’re gonna make me cry and I worked hard on this makeup.” (thank god for waterproof mascara) He laughs at your attempt to lighten the mood and kisses his forehead. “You look beautiful, baby, you know that?” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment, and when he pulls back, there's a lightness in his gaze, something playful.

"Okay, okay, enough with the tears for now," you say, trying to change up the sappy, sad mood. You wipe your eyes and take a deep breath, giving him a small, teasing smile. "I wanted today to be special, so let's enjoy it. Plus..." You pause, the mischievous twinkle in your eye returning as you lean closer.

"I want you to make me cry for another reason."

Shouto’s eyes widen in surprise for a brief moment before he catches the playful spark in your gaze. A grin slowly spreads across his face, and a quiet chuckle escapes him. “Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there's something else there too—a promise.

"Well, then, let’s see if I can make that happen."

Arms wrapping around you, Shouto presses his lips against yours. The kisses are soft at first, testing the waters and giving you the chance to back down (not that you were ever going to). But as the seconds go by, once your consistent kissing back makes it evident to your husband that you weren’t going to stop, the kisses become hungry and urgent.

His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue gently traces the line of your lips, begging for more. You respond in kind, your body melting against his, as you part your lips to let his tongue in. The heat between you both intensifies, every brush of his lips, every movement of his hands, making your heart race.

Suddenly, you pull back breathlessly. Shouto pants softly, eyes clouded with lust as the thick tent in his pants press into your bare pussy. You move your hips teasingly, grinding against him, drawing out a moan from your husband. “B-baby…” he murmurs out, squeezing your hips. You respond with a smile and reach down to remove his underwear. “If you’re okay with it, love, I’d like to take the lead this time.” Shouto’s eyes widen, but he smiles and nods.

“Okay, Y/N, but tell me if you need help or if it’s too much, okay?” Your heart warms at his offer, ever the gentleman, and you nod. “I don’t think I’ll need help but thank you, darling.”

Carefully, you lower your body down on his cock. You gasp when you feel his thick tip stretch your sweet cunt. He’s big, so so big and delicious. As your walls are practically split open, you have to go reeeeeally slow so to not hurt yourself. Hands gripping the sheets, you let out a slutty moan at the sensation. Your husband’s eyes are half-lidded, lust and love mixed together in the perfect ratio. He was only a little more than halfway in, and you already felt so full. Biting his lower lip, he gently reaches a hand over to hold your waist, thumb rubbing loving circles to help soothe whatever pain you may have been feeling (so sweet :( ).

And then, you go all the way up, just until only the tip is inside, and slam yourself down. Shouto lets out a choked, guttural moan, biting his lower lip. “F-Fuck…” His hands grip your waist tighter as he braces himself for more loving from you.

However, your hips do not move as he planned. Rather, they do not move at all and you remain planted on him. Slightly frustrated, Shouto looks up at you curiously.

“Love?”

There is a dangerous, mischievous glint in your eyes as you sweetly bat your pretty lashes at him, hips still not moving. “Yes, Shou?” Reaching over, you cut a piece of the cake and hold the fork up to his lips.

“You’re hungry, right? Say ‘ah’!” He frowns, clearly expecting you to ride him, but he obediently eats the cake. Swallowing, his fingers rub your waist. “Darling, are you going to move now?”

His frown deepens when you shake your head and hold up another forkful of cake to his mouth. “I can’t let my husband go hungry, right?” Before he can interrupt, you giggle. “We never really had a personal housewarming did we? Why not do it now?”

Oh, that’s what you’re plan was. Teasing him by fucking cockwarming him, a dirty move.

And Shouto Todoroki, as much as he loves you, does not like that.

Yeah, you probably should not have teased him so much, because strong hands grab your hips and lift you off your husband’s hard dick. Your back hits the soft mattress and you let out a soft “oof-!” The fork discarded onto the nightstand (a miracle it didn’t drop to the floor), Shouto’s darkened gaze pierces into your soul. Brows furrowed, his expression tells you all that you need to know: He’s had enough with your game, and it’s time for you to face the consequences.

Before you can protest, defend your playful teasing, his lips roughly press against yours, hungrily making out. He bites your bottom lip softly, hands roaming up and down your body, asking for permission to slip his tongue in. You open your mouth submissively, his wet muscle entering the warm cavern. His lips trail downwards to your jaw, nipping and kissing it, before settling onto your neck and biting the sensitive roughly. A whine escapes your throat, body burning with desire and need. “Shouto!! Haah, please…” Your body jolts with slight pain and pleasure when his left hand swats your ass, leaving a pinkish mark.

“Please what?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, feigning innocence as his fingers trail up your sides, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “You were so confident earlier. What happened, hmm?”

“I… I didn’t mean it,” you stammer, your cheeks burning as you look up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, please…”

His smirk deepens, and he leans in again, this time pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of your jaw, his voice a low rumble against your skin. “Oh, but darling,” he purrs, his lips moving down to your neck as his hands tighten on your waist, holding you in place. The teasing tone he used while calling you such a sweet nickname makes your pussy clench around nothing, making even wetter. “Weren’t you just having fun teasing me?” Your eyes widen when one of his hands roughly pin your smaller hands down on the pillow above you.

Oh fuck, you were screwed.

Shouto lines up his shaft to your pussy, angry red tip swollen and leaking. He playfully slaps his cock on your clit, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“You know that I don’t like it when you tease me,” Shouto notes calmly, his eyes telling a different story. “Are you going to remember that next time? Or do I have to fuck you stupid to remember that, my sweet wife?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sound of that nickname. But before you could respond Shouto begins to push the bulbous tip inside your tight hole. You throw your head back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets at the stretch. Just the sheer stretch of his tip alone made your brain fuzzy. Shouto hisses at the feeling of your goey, tight walls. “D-damn, baby,” he breathes out, eyebrows furrowed sexily, “S-so fucking tight…” After a minute, he was balls deep, all of him buried inside your sweet pussy.

Yet, this was not enough for Shouto.

He slides himself all the way out (getting back at you), and rams himself back in. A soft cry escapes your throat, and Shouto almost hesitates to continue. However, your lewd expression and hips desperately moving to feel his cock move again quenches his fears of it being too much for you. He begins thrusting, pants and groans slipping out of his lips.

“Ah ahh—Shou—!! Y-you’re s-so deep-” Fat crystalline tears well up in the corners of your eyes as you whimper. Your husband suddenly thrusts harder, prompted by your comment. “Y-yeah baby, nice and—fuck—deep, gonna cum inside, okay?” Pupils practically heart-shaped, you nod eagerly.

“Yeshh-! Pleasepleaseplease-” Your husband continues mercilessly pounding into your sensitive cunt, soft thwacks! and squelching noises made from the way his mushroom tip kissed your cervix.

“Oh!! So—hngh!—good!!” Shouto toys your clit sweetly with a few circular brushes of his thumb against your neglected clit, pushing you over the edge. “Ahh-!! C-cummin’!!” Eyes squeezing shut, your pussy clenches around your husband’s dick, body jerking up in pleasure as you ride out your high. This seems to have pushed Shouto over the edge as well, because with a final thrust, he empties his balls in your sweet womb, filling you up with his hot, thick cum. Gently, you pull his face down to kiss you softly, taking deep breaths and trying to calm down.

However, as you reach for a towel on the nightstand, beefy, muscular arms grab you and flip you over on your stomach. A pillow is pushed underneath your abdomen as Shouto lifts your hips up to his cock. “D-darling!?” You squeak in surprise, not expecting his actions. Suddenly, Shouto plunges his dick back into your pussy, cum dripping down and onto the bed. A pathetic sob escapes your throat, along with moans and whines. “T-Thought we were done—ah!”

“You thought we were finished? Love, you should know…” His voice drops down to a husky, seductive whisper when he leans down to your ear, warm breath ticking you. His cock twitches in your hole, keeping your gummy walls nice and warm and stretched.

“I fully intend on making this house a real home with you, and ensuring that your womb is nice and full is step one.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Currently, you were getting your brains fucked out in the kitchen, body practically sandwiched between the kitchen island and your husband. It had been hours since you both started going at it. Only your right leg was touching the ground, buckling knee desperately trying to support your body. Shouto was holding your left leg, one hand looped underneath the knee of your left leg and the other grabbing your slutty waist as he ruts his cock into your cunt.

You couldn’t even form a sentence, your moans and mewls and Shouto’s groans filling the house. Manicured nails gripping the countertop, a gasp escapes your throat when you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. Eyes widening, you know what was up: you were going to cum for the nth time.

Your eyes trail to the bruises on your hips from how hard he had been gripping you, then to Shouto’s face. “S-Shouto,” you moan breathlessly, a gasp slipping from your lips when his pelvis begins thrusting faster. “C-Close!!” The smug man smirks, biting his lower lip sexily and pulling your body closer. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you feel an unfamiliar feeling begin to build up in your abdomen. Cock drilling your insides, kissing your sweet, spongy g-spot, Shouto continues pounding hard. “B-baby-!! Oh! Ahn-! GonnA-!!”

Suddenly, the pressure is too much for you and a strangled sob escapes your lips.

Translucent liquid splatters onto Shouto’s abs and pours onto the floor. When you realize what just happened, your blood runs cold. Shouto’s eyes widen when he realizes this as well and his movements stop.

“…”

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and then, blood rushes to your cheeks. Shit. You hide your face in your hands, groaning from embarrassment. “Shit-! Shouto! I-” You what? You couldn’t even say it.

You fucking squirted all over him and the kitchen floor.

Just when you’re about to spew out an endless number of apologies, the breath is knocked out of your lungs when Shouto’s hips start to move again. Your hands fly to grab at the marble countertop of the kitchen island again.

“Oh-! Ahn-! S-Shouto-!! Too much!!” The sensation was overwhelming, and you were still overstimulated from your recent climax. His fingers dig deeper into your soft flesh, kneading your waist.

“Hnngh-! I-Isn’t it—ngh—gross?” Your husband shakes his head, hips continuing to meet your pelvis, and a deep gasp escaping from his throat. “Not at all, love.” He pulls your waist closer to meet his hips, eliciting a sweet, harmonic moan from you. Leaning down, his hot breath hits your ear as he whispers seductively.

“It was hot.”

Your face burns from his honesty, not expecting his reaction. Whining, your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation of a particularly harsh (yet pleasurable) thrust. Your blood boils in your veins as you tried to maintain your grip on the marble island top. Soft pants escape your husband’s lips, a curse word sprinkled in every now and then. Suddenly, Shouto bites his lip. He was getting close. Despite your lower half feeling like jello, you rocked your hips as best as you could to meet his hips, anything to get him close to finishing!

Through your clouded, fucked-out mind, you were still able to count how many times Shouto had finished so far today: four times (twice on the bed to fix your attitude, once in the bathroom when he was “cleaning you up,” and once on the stairs—wait… how did that even happen!?!?). “S-shou,” you pant out, one arm reaching up to wrap around his neck and stabilize yourself. “T-this is —ngh— s’pposed to be about you!” He smiles softly at your remark and slows down. Tenderly, he takes your other arm leaning on the kitchen island and has you wrap it around your neck as well. “I know, but I can’t help wanting to make you feel good.”

Without letting himself slip out of your heavenly folds, Shouto easily picks you up and carries you to the wall. The taller man pins you against it before resuming his lovely assault on your pussy. You writhe against him, babbling mindless nonsense and singing his name with your moans. You were so close again! Heat coils up in your abdomen again as you cling tighter to Shouto. His fingers dig even deeper, and he lets out a guttural moan.

“God, baby, y-you’re—fuck—divine.” His pace grew more erratic as he began thrusting faster. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you sob pathetically, nails digging into his back. Shouto’s mouth presses against yours yet again, hungrily kissing you. Your legs quiver and your body jolts in pleasure as you come again. Your orgasm hits you like a truck, sensitivity heightened from the overstimulation. A few seconds after, Shouto thrusts one last time and fills you up, hot cum flooding your tight walls. Your body shakes as you come down from your high, euphoria surging in your veins again.

Carefully, Shouto lets your legs touch the ground—not that that was any good (he just pounded you!), but hey, the thought counts, right? Still holding onto you, he kisses your forehead softly, body pressed up against your bare skin and the pink apron. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” You smile cheerfully and nod. “Mhm! My legs are a little sore, though.” Your gaze flickers down to the pool of fluids a few feet away from you, your cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Let me just go clean that up.”

Getting down on your knees, you unintentionally flash Shouto with your perky, round ass on full display (keep in mind, you’re still wearing that flimsy, probably crumbled up by now apron). Shouto gulps, adam’s apple bobbing as he watches you grab a rag and wipe up your mess. Cum was still leaking from your cunt, dripping down your thighs and even leaving drops on the floor.

Just as you finish cleaning up your mess with a light, undignified blush, rough hands grab your waist and the familiar hard dick presses up against your ass. You gasp at the feeling. “S-Shouto?” Your response is an icy smack on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. “Shouto!” But before you could get mad at him further, your breath is knocked out of your lungs yet again when he slams his dick into your pussy. You fingers dig into the rag underneath you, knees wobbily trying to maintain balance on the hardwood floor.

“Hnngh!! Not again!!”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It was only 11:51am, and sweet Jesus were you tired.

You felt like you did every position already: on the bed, on your knees, against the wall, bent over the countertop, on the fucking stairs!! You were exhausted! And to your right, the birthday boy was cheerfully slurping his cold soba noodles for his birthday lunch. You weren’t very hungry, but you took a few bites earlier (he practically forced you to eat, concerned for your well-being). It didn’t even look like he broke a sweat, the only evidence of your nasty morning being the scratch marks on his back.

As you take a sip of water, your husband sneaks glances at you. Eyes full of concern and worry, he observes the various bruises, hickeys, and the state of your apron.

Right, that damn apron.

It was a wonderful surprise, a surprise that Shouto would have never thought would ever greet him in the morning, even more so his birthday. If he were to ever tell his first-year high school self of this life, he would probably scoff and tell him to focus on his hero career. But right now, as he looks at you—the person who’s turned his house into a home (and the reason why he even has a big house like this #proposal)— he can’t imagine anything better than this. Finishing his lunch, he places the plate down before wrapping his muscular, warm arms around you. Shouto presses a soft kiss to your forehead, eyes on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft and tender, full of love that makes your heart melt.

“Mhm!” You quip cheerfully and place the glass down. “I told you, I’m not hungry. You worry too much baby.” “I’m allowed to worry,” he murmurs, his hand resting against your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “Especially when it’s about you.”

Your heart swells at the sincerity in his voice, and you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you say with a smile, looking up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes. “You’ll have to put up with me for a while. ‘Till death,' you know?”

His lips curl into a small smile at the reference to your vows, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he whispers, pulling you closer. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

‘Till death’ was what he had promised. ‘I promise to love you until death, until death do us part. Yet I will love you even after death, for an aeon of eternity.’

And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job. Especially as your husband. Looking back at your adorable figure, his smile reverts to a frown when he spots that lacy, frilly, pink apron.

Right, that damn apron.

The sight of it stirs a conflicting swirl of emotions in Shouto. On one hand, it’s adorable—seeing you proudly donning the frilly, slightly-too-thin fabric while bustling around the house for his birthday. But on the other hand... it’s too flimsy, too distracting, and it’s been on you for too long. It takes everything in him not to reach out and tug it off, not because he’s impatient but because it feels like the apron is mocking his already limited self-control. ‘You might be upset,’ he thinks to himself, lips pressed together in a thin line. Shouto knows how much effort and planning you’ve put into your plans today, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.

But at the same time, he wants to see you fully naked, bathed in your usual goddess beauty, all unwrapped just for him.

Besides, it was fine, right? That poor article of clothing needed a break: cum stains everywhere, smelling like a mix of Sol De Janeiro cherirosa and sweat from your lovemaking. It was crumpled up in areas too, no matter how much you tried to smooth it out.

The final string of restraint snaps in him when you put his empty plate in the sink, cute ass on display once again. Before you know it, the knot of the apron is undone and you’re tossed onto the couch.

“Shouto!” You huff, voice full of surprise. But before you can continue your complaining, the pink apron is pull off of your body and tossed to some corner of the living room. Shouto eyes you hungrily, like a wolf looking at his prey. You swallow nervously.

“B-baby?” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice softer now but no less earnest. “And I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.” He begins pressing featherlike kisses to your body, making you giggle and smile.

You were not prepared for what was coming next.

Cold fingers teasing your entrance suddenly press down on your clit, making you scream. You’re soaking wet again, face burning. “My lunch was delicious, like how you always make it,” your husband notes, teasing your hole by rubbing his hot fingers along your entire slit (from clit to ass).

“But I want to eat my dessert now.”

Your cunt makes embarrassing squelches and sounds, music to Shouto’s ears as he continues to eat you out on the couch. It’s been how long? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? 20? His tongue swipes your sweet bud while his middle and ring finger curl slightly and hit just the right spot. Shouto’s name tumble out of your mouth, recited like a prayer. At a particularly rough suck on your clit, your hands fly to Shouto’s hair, gripping it tightly. He moans at the feeling and flicks the bud teasingly. This sends you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head and thighs spasming around your husband’s head.

Pulling his head away from your womanhood, he gives it a light, playful slap, watching your thighs jolt up. “S-Shouto!” You scold him lightly, out of breath. That was your third orgasm from just his fingers and tongue alone. He chuckles and reaches over to kiss you. “Sorry, love, I was just teasing.” Sweetly, he helps you sit up on the couch and rubs your arms to soothe you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple and pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’ve made today perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “And I want to spend the rest of it making you feel just as special.”

Your heart swells at his words for like the fifth time today, and you relax against him, the earlier tension melting away. “You always make me feel special, love.” your tone is filled with warmth as you gaze up at your husband’s perfectly mismatched eyes.

As he lets you cool down, Shouto turns on the TV to check the news. After a few minutes, you suddenly get an idea that you almost forgot about in your plan.

“Shouto?” you quip, gently tapping on his shoulder. He looks at you with a curious look. “Yes, love?” You grin, twirling your hair with a finger.

“There is one more place we haven’t quite warmed up yet.” Eyes filled with curiosity, he watches you stand up start walking. Shouto frowns and puts the remote down before following you. “Love? Where are you going?” Like a lost puppy, he follows you around the house.

You open the laundry room and walk to the washing machine. All of a sudden, you grab a dirty laundry basket and drop down to your knees. Digging your hands through the clothes, you begin tossing the clothing into the machine. “Y/N? Let me help y-”

All of a sudden, you stick your upper half inside, your bare butt on full display. Shouto’s jaw drops, throat drying up. You wiggle your legs in mock distress, fighting the smile on your face.

“Honey! I think I’m stuck in here. Can you help me out?”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[grenadehearts]

katsuki bakugo so needy to please! ✧

warnings: 18+ k.bakugo x f.reader

authors note: ik this is so short but i could not get the idea out of my head like... katsuki would sooo be a giver (this is so self indulgent but.. tell me its not so real) master list link here ✃ m.list

Thinking about Katsuki Bakugo, who couldn't care less about his own pleasure. He hates it, actually—thinks it's stupid, a waste of time. Why would he bother with something so meaningless when he could bury his face between your thighs instead? When he could have his pretty baby trembling under him, your tight folds dripping with cum after he's made you come undone not once, not twice, but three times over with just his tongue.

Katsuki Bakugo, who would never ask you to wrap those soft, plump lips around his cock. Nah, he'd rather see them part in a breathless gasp, your voice cracking into those sweet little cries that make his blood run hot. Every sound you make feels like it's carved into his chest—especially when his tongue is lapping at your swollen clit, or when his fingers are buried deep inside you, curling just right until you're shaking apart beneath him.

Katsuki Bakugo, whose mind is completely consumed by you. He'll be sitting in the middle of some high-stakes meeting, supposed to be focused on something important, but all he can think about is the way your back arches when you're close. The way your fingers tangle in his blonde spikes and tug like you're trying to anchor yourself to him. The way you cry out his name like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

Katsuki Bakugo, who never understood sex or why people made such a big deal about swapping spit for a fleeting moment—until he had you. Until he buried his face in your desperate pussy and realized this was what they meant. That this was what he'd been missing all along.

Katsuki Bakugo, who laps up every drop of you like it's the only thing that will ever satisfy him. He doesn't stop—doesn't even think about stopping—not until your thighs are trembling and your voice is hoarse from screaming for him to grant you a moment of reprieve.

Katsuki Bakugo, a giver through and through. He doesn't care about himself—he never has. All that matters is you: your pleasure, your cries, the way you fall apart under him again and again. That's all he needs to get him to spill out in his tightened pants– without even being touched.

p.s this is sooo scary to write like i feel like u guys are gonna hate it and say he's ooc and call me delusional.. anyways! if you guys do like it reblog + comment it means sooo much + requests are open! m.list + comms are open.

[bloody-bee-tea]

24 Days of MHA 2024 Day 13 - Night train

Hitoshi doesn't know what he's doing, which is kind of terrifying, because knowing his goals and ambitions has always been his thing. And now he's downright floundering because he simply cannot wrap his head around the fact that Bakugo Katsuki is lounging on his couch in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt.

Because they are together. Boyfriends, even. Mutual confessions on both sides, and Hitoshi simply cannot understand how he got here.

Sure, he damn well knows why he is here, because, hello, that's fucking Pro Hero Dynamight, one of the most promising young heroes out there and who is Hitoshi to say no to someone like that? Especially since Bakugo Katsuki is also nothing to scoff at, with his sharp wit and mean remarks and gruff way to care for people more than he likes to let on.

So Hitoshi damn well understands his own side of things, but Katsuki's? Not so much.

Hitoshi is not, by any means, attractive; the eyebags alone are a huge turn off and he's been told more than once that his eyes are creepy as fuck. Add to that his acidic personality, his numerous traumas from a shitty upbringing and being called a villain his whole life, his many and various insecurities, and his stupid quirk and he's not what anyone would call a catch.

And yet.

And yet Katsuki is right here with him, lounging on the couch like he belongs there, after cooking for Hitoshi on what could have only been a date and Hitoshi is so thoroughly lost.

"Why are you here?" Hitoshi blurts out and almost jerks when piercing red eyes slide over to him.

"What? You expect me to wine and dine you and then just ditch?" Katsuki raises an eyebrow at him as he asks this but Hitoshi shakes his head.

"No, not that, I understand what a date is, I just mean—why are you here? With me."

"Seriously?" Katsuki's voice takes on an incredulous note. "I thought I made that clear when I said I had fucking feelings for you or whatever."

It's almost funny how Katsuki is unable to say it again, if only Hitoshi's brain wasn't so stupid and would accept it for the reassurance it is clearly meant to be.

"And now you can't even say it again," he bitterly mutters out because what if this is already it, what if this one dinner date is enough to turn Katsuki away from him already?

Katsuki musters him for a long moment before he reaches out across the couch to take Hitoshi's hand in his.

"I'm in love with you. Why does that not want into your thick skull?"

"Don't know," Hitoshi mumbles, the words spinning around in his head and it should be reassuring—it kinda is—but still, he can't stop poking at the words as if they could fall apart like that and reveal their true meaning.

"Stop thinking so hard, you're hurting yourself," Katsuki snorts out and it's instinct, it's not something Hitoshi wants to do when his free hand immediately clutches his forearm.

"I'm not," he rushes out, too caught up in what he perceives as an accusation to understand that this is not at all what Katsuki had meant.

Silence settles around them, almost uncomfortably and Hitoshi startles when he realises what he just did.

"Fuck," he whispers out, completely horrified by himself and he wrenches his hand out of Katsuki's, to tug them both close to his chest as if he could undo the damage like that.

"Hitoshi," Katsuki almost warningly says and Hitoshi jerks his head.

"No, don't," he pleads with him, but of course that is not something that ever works with Katsuki.

"Hitoshi," he says again, much more steady this time and when he reaches out for Hitoshi who flinches back, he doesn't even stop.

He gets his hand around Hitoshi's forearm, where the thick of the scars are and then he just looks at Hitoshi.

"Are you good?" he asks, nothing more and nothing less and his hand is a warm, comforting weight around Hitoshi's arm.

"I am," Hitoshi forces out, because he is. "I haven't—not for years," he admits because it turns out when your living situation isn't shit and people actually give a fuck about you and your wishes and your future there is little reason for him to hurt himself.

"Okay," Katsuki simply says and then slides his hand down until he can tangle his fingers together with Hitoshi's. "Then get the fuck on the couch and watch this stupid movie with me."

It's Katsuki's own brand of asking for cuddles, Hitoshi realises with a start and for a moment it's hard to breathe.

He's so unbearably fond of this abrasive asshole that it almost chokes him.

"Whatever you want," he finally agrees and sits down next to Katsuki and allows himself to be manhandled until Katsuki is seemingly satisfied, with Hitoshi safely tucked into his side, Katsuki's arm around him and legs tangled together.

Hitoshi has to admit, he's pretty satisfied with that position himself.

~*~*~

Dating a very popular spotlight hero certainly has his downsides Hitoshi bitterly thinks as Katsuki puts his newest assignment down in front of him.

He was requested to collaborate with an agency, two prefectures away and of course Katsuki said yes. Hitoshi doesn't begrudge him that, because how could he ever, but he does hate the implications of it.

"So you're leaving," Hitoshi says, and forces all of his considerable training into not sounding bitter.

"Two weeks," Katsuki agrees, though his gaze sharpens. "The first week is mostly recon, so I might get a day off, but two weeks is the time-line for this."

"Okay."

Hitoshi doesn't know what else to say, because everything is so stupid and it's all his brain's fault. Of course Katsuki is going to say yes if a prestigious agency asks for him, that's not even a question, and in all honesty, Hitoshi wouldn't even want him to say no on Hitoshi's behalf.

That's just plain wrong, and Hitoshi is not that kind of partner but this is still—it's bad, in his mind, because what if the distance is enough to remind Katsuki that he actually hates Hitoshi? That Hitoshi is hot garbage and nothing more and that he doesn't want anything to do with him and especially not romantically?

"You're being stupid again," Katsuki sighs out and flicks Hitoshi's forehead.

"I know," Hitoshi sighs out, because he does know and mandatory therapy has helped him a lot with recognising the signs, even if he can't yet stop them.

"Here's what I don't understand," Katsuki starts and Hitoshi snorts, implying that there should be a lot of things Katsuki doesn't understand and Katsuki knows him well enough to glare at him. "Asshole," he hisses, but there's a smile playing around his mouth. "You go on undercover missions all the time, mostly lasting longer than these measly two weeks. Why do you never worry then?"

It's not logical, Hitoshi knows it isn't, and his explanation doesn't do anything to clear that up, he knows that as well but still, he has to try.

He finds that he wants to try a whole lot of things for Katsuki.

"It's different because I don't get to overthink things. I go in and I have to do my job; I have to concentrate on that. I don't have time to worry about if you'll still love me when I'm back because I'm way too busy not blowing my cover and getting killed. But when you go—"

"You have all the time in the world to worry your pretty little head off," Katsuki finishes for him and Hitoshi shrugs helplessly. "If it helps any, I'm way too busy during a mission to look around for someone else."

Katsuki doesn't say 'someone better' and it might not mean anything to Katsuki, but to Hitoshi it means the world.

"I know," he eventually says, "which is why this is so stupid. I should worry way more when I'm gone on a mission because it leaves you with time to spare, and I shouldn't have to worry about a thing right now, because you're busy and I'm not. But it's not logical and I hate it."

Katsuki snorts at that and says "You're so much like Aizawa sometimes. Maybe Todoroki was on to something with you being his biological son." Hitoshi has just enough time to roll his eyes at that before Katsuki goes on. "But I'm also glad to hear therapy is doing you some good. You wouldn't have known this was all stupid a few months ago, so I'm proud of you."

Hitoshi almost hates the way the praise makes him light up, but it's not something he can hide and he finds he doesn't want to when Katsuki's face goes all soft.

"Thank you. I'm trying," Hitoshi admits, and this too would have been hard a few months ago, but he did learn a thing or two in therapy and also thanks to this relationship.

"I know, and we're going to beat the stupid out of you eventually," Katsuki tells him with a wink and it makes Hitoshi laugh.

"You're certainly welcome to try."

~*~*~

Hitoshi hates the way his skin crawls, because he knows what it's the onset for and he couldn't care less for that shit, especially with Katsuki so far away right now.

Which is probably the reason for this to begin with, he thinks, and wonders if it's too late to call his therapist and schedule an appointment.

It is, he decides after a quick glance at the clock because it's nearing midnight now and his therapist would very much kick his ass if he called him right now instead of waiting until the morning like a normal person.

And besides, it's entirely and thoroughly stupid, because Katsuki is scheduled to come back tomorrow or the day after at the latest and Hitoshi really just needs to hold off on his stupid break-down until he can hold his boyfriend in his arms and make all the stupid thoughts stop.

Easier said than done, Hitoshi finds as he grabs for his phone and sends off an ill-advised message. It's stupid and irrational and will accomplish nothing because Katsuki is asleep by now and Hitoshi will feel thoroughly stupid once morning comes but it's too late now.

It's especially too late because not even a minute later Hitoshi's phone rings.

He almost jumps out of his skin, it's that unexpected and then he fumbles the phone twice. In the end he has to call Katsuki back.

"What was that about?" Katsuki demands to know when he picks up and Hitoshi lets out a long breath. "You're being—"

"Stupid again, yes I fucking know, will you stop it, goddamit," Hitoshi hisses out and a small part of himself knows that he's overreacting, that there's no reason for him to be this angry, that Katsuki did nothing wrong, but he can't stop himself. "I know I'm a needy little bitch, but you decided I was yours so you better fucking deal with it!"

There's a beat of silence on the other end before Katsuki very calmly says "Hitoshi."

It's not a reprimand, not the onset for a fight Hitoshi is illogically itching for and just hearing his name like that makes his eyes burn.

"We shouldn't talk," he gets out, his voice only barely shaking. "I don't know what's wrong and I'm not being fair to you and I'm sorry, but we shouldn't talk, not like this. I'm sorry I sent you that message. We'll see each other when you're back."

He doesn't wait for Katsuki's answer and simply hangs up on him, clutching the phone to his chest. Hitoshi is equal parts relieved and furious when Katsuki doesn't call him back and he wonders if maybe it's time to talk to his therapist about new meds again.

Because this can't keep happening. Hitoshi hates it when he gets like this, and even though he can realise it for the irrational thoughts they are, he's still no closer to constructively dealing with them in a way that doesn't have him screaming at Katsuki over the phone well after midnight and shouldn't he have gotten better already?

"Fuck," he spits out and then resigns himself to a night of fretting because he sure as hell is not going to get any sleep tonight.

Hitoshi spends his time on the couch, staring off into nothing and reprimanding himself for being like this, working himself up into a new spiral of self-hate but he gets interrupted when he hears the front door.

He blinks sluggishly at the clock and sees that it's close to four in the morning now, which can't be right, because if that is Katsuki at the front door then it must already be well into the day. A look outside the window shows that it's still dark out, though, so maybe the clock is right.

"Hitoshi?" Katsuki calls out and Hitoshi turns his head to watch Katsuki walk into the living-room.

"You're here," he gets out, voice raspy, and Katsuki sighs as he pushes his hand affectionately through Hitoshi's hair.

"I am."

Hitoshi blinks and finally comes back to himself a little.

"You took the night train?" Katsuki nods. "You hate taking the night train!"

If there's one thing Katsuki loves more than exploding bad guys then it's his sleep and he would never voluntarily take the night train, not if he can help it.

"I hate seeing you like this more," Katsuki tells him and leans down to replace his hand with his lips.

That simple statement is enough to make guilt course through Hitoshi again and he pulls away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry. For being such a mess," he whispers out because some days he really doesn't understand why Katsuki even puts up with him.

"Toshi," Katsuki sighs out and comes around the couch to flop down right next to Hitoshi. "You're not a mess." He rolls his eyes when Hitoshi gives him an incredulous look. "Well, not always. You're allowed to miss me, you know, and you're allowed to be upset when it takes me too long to come home. That's just normal. Not everything is because of your fucked up mental health."

Hitoshi likes that Katsuki doesn't shy away from calling it how it is, it's somehow reassuring, but still.

"But it makes everything worse. I shouldn't be this needy, you've only been gone for two weeks and we did talk during that time. I should be fine."

"Maybe," Katsuki hedges. "But maybe not."

"You're always fine when I am away," Hitoshi petulantly says as if measuring himself up against Katsuki could ever do him any good.

"Did you never notice that my property damage skyrockets when you're on a mission for longer than three weeks?" Katsuki asks and Hitoshi can do nothing but stare at him. "It's because I miss you too, upsettingly much sometimes. That's just how it is."

"That's not true."

"It is. You can call my agency. At this point they are working together with yours; my agency gets a copy of your schedule every time, so they know when to take me off the more conflict-filled routes. When you're on a mission for longer than three weeks, I only get to patrol the outskirts of town, where nothing much happens, because my agency is goddamn fucking tired of me leaving a mess behind."

"I—didn't know that," Hitoshi mutters, completely taken off guard by that admission and it might be fucked up, but it makes something warm light up in his chest. "You miss me."

"I do." Katsuki says as if it's easy to admit something like that and Hitoshi slumps against him. "I missed you now, too."

"I missed you, too," Hitoshi gives back and snuggles in, content where he is, even if his brain can't quite shut up, even now.

"You're still thinking your self-deprecating thoughts," Katsuki sighs out because he clearly knows him much too well by now and Hitoshi shrugs, because what is there to say?

"Just wondering how I bagged someone like you. I'm a hot mess and you have your life together. It doesn't make sense."

"You have your life together, too, Hitoshi. Fuck, just look around would you? We share an apartment, we're co-parenting two cats. You have a skill-set that his highly sought after and you complete your missions without fault. And yeah, you might be all fucked up in the head but you're doing something about that, too. That doesn't sound like someone who doesn't have their life together to me."

"And I get to bang you," Hitoshi says, all choked up, because joking around is easier than acknowledging what Katsuki just said.

"Yeah, that, too. And I'm high maintenance. You think someone who doesn't have their life together could coordinate well enough with me to keep me entertained? I think not," Katsuki decisively says and tilts Hitoshi's face so he can kiss him. "You don't trust yourself, do you? That you're enough for me?"

Hitoshi presses his lips together, to bite back on the immediate response, because of course he doesn't, but it feels as if he's about to run into a trap and the sharp grin he gets as a response just drives that point home even more.

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life," Hitoshi immediately says and it still feels too little, because he also trust Katsuki with his heart and their cats and his family and basically everything that ever meant anything to Hitoshi.

"Then trust that I wouldn't date someone who is any of the disparaging things you think about yourself."

It's stupid, it should be stupid, but it's reassuring to Hitoshi in a way nothing else has ever been. Yeah, Katsuki is high maintenance and his expectations of people are even higher and if he thinks putting up with Hitoshi is worth it, then maybe he's right.

"I should pay you to be my therapist," Hitoshi mumbles, all choked up as he nuzzles his face into Katsuki's neck.

"Nah, I'll do it for free," he jokes and scratches at Hitoshi's nape. "You good?"

"I love you," Hitoshi says in response because it's so important to him that Katsuki knows that and Hitoshi is well aware that he doesn't say it nearly often enough.

"I love you, too," Katsuki gives back, softening under Hitoshi's hands and Hitoshi wraps himself up in those words.

Because if Katsuki says them, then he must have decided they are true, and who is Hitoshi to tell him he's wrong?

It's not a true fix-it, and Hitoshi will still have to see his therapist to talk things over with him, but for now he can melt into Katsuki's side and believe. And that is more than enough.

[dinarosie]

Re-Reading Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire: Snape’s Moment of Unyielding Bravery

The scene I want to highlight in The Goblet of Fire is one that carries so much weight, and each time I re-read it, the gravity of the moment only increases. Imagine the setting: the hospital wing. It’s packed with people—Cornelius Fudge, Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall, Bill and Molly Weasley, Hermione, Ron, and Harry. All eyes are on Snape as he steps forward, pulls up his sleeve, and reveals the Dark Mark burned into his skin.

“There,” said Snape harshly. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff’s too.

Let that sink in. Snape isn’t just showing a Mark; he’s exposing the deepest, darkest secret of his life. He’s standing in front of his students, his colleagues, and—let’s not forget—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and he’s admitting something most people would bury forever.

What makes this even more remarkable is that the choice to do this wasn’t something Dumbledore told him to make. This isn’t part of some grand plan discussed beforehand. Snape makes this decision on his own, in the moment, fully aware of how it will tarnish him in the eyes of others. Why?

Because Snape understands the stakes. Fudge’s denial of Voldemort’s return endangers the entire wizarding world. By exposing the Dark Mark on his arm, Snape hopes to convince Fudge to take Voldemort’s return seriously. His goal is clear: to push the Ministry into taking precautionary measures and preparing the wizarding community for the battle ahead.

And then there’s this haunting line:

“…We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord’s vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold.”

What Snape doesn’t say, but what we understand, is that he knows he’s facing the exact same fate. When Snape goes back to Voldemort, he knows he’ll be met with pain, torture, and humiliation and even death. Where Karkaroff sees only a way out, Snape sees his duty—a stark contrast that underscores Snape’s resolve.

Here’s what makes this even more powerful: Snape is so determined to convince Fudge that he uses the suffering he knows awaits him as evidence. He stands there, knowing that returning to Voldemort will mean enduring unbearable torture, and he uses that as proof of Voldemort’s return. Snape essentially says, “I know what’s coming for me, and I’m still standing here to tell you the truth.”

Then we reach the next turning point in this scene:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

Look at Dumbledore’s approach here. He’s cautious, almost hesitant. This is a sharp contrast to Half-Blood Prince, where Dumbledore gives Snape direct orders about killing him. Here, Dumbledore knows exactly what he’s asking of Snape: to return to Voldemort, to put himself in unimaginable danger.

And Snape’s response?

“I am.”

That’s it. Two words. No hesitation, no complaint. J.K. Rowling describes him as pale, his cold, dark eyes glittering strangely. Dumbledore, too, is described as watching Snape leave with a trace of apprehension on his face. Both of them know that Snape might not come back. Both of them know he’s walking into the lion’s den. And yet, Snape doesn’t waver.

This moment is a masterclass in bravery, but it also completely dismantles the argument that Snape’s good deeds are purely motivated by guilt over Lily or his promise to Dumbledore.

This scene also shows us that the promise Snape made to Dumbledore after Lily’s death wasn’t just about protecting Harry. It was about choosing a side. Snape made the decision to fight against Voldemort, no matter the cost. From that moment on, he dedicated himself to sabotaging the Dark Lord’s plans, enduring unspeakable pain and danger in the process.

And let’s not overlook this: Snape doesn’t just fight when Harry is in danger. He fights Voldemort at every opportunity because he knows it’s the right thing to do. He does it not because of guilt or obligation, but because his own moral compass demands it.

This scene in The Goblet of Fire encapsulates everything that makes Snape such a complex, fascinating character. It’s raw, vulnerable, and incredibly brave. Snape isn’t perfect—far from it—but this moment proves that he is so much more than the sum of his flaws. He’s a man who chooses to stand and fight, even when it means sacrificing everything.

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[galacticgoldfishart]

little Orphie ani

[stormyvoltzzz]

This man deserved to smile more like this. I will NOT stand for any Aizawa slander in this house!

[massiveladycat]

i honestly dont gaf about the mha ships if they're healthy (i actually won't interact with the fandom that much), but leave ochaco tf out of it if you want to ship deku with someone else. like you shouldnt have to demonize another character to get the ship you want

like holy shit the amount of things I've seen "headcanon: ochaco is jealous so she's a bitch" "headcanon: ochaco doesn't actually care about deku, she cheats on him" "headcanon: ochaco is using deku for money"

QUIT DEMONIZING HER WTF DID SHE DO 😭😭😭 god forbid a fmc is kind and sweet all the while being surrounded by cruel things happening every season. god forbid a fmc have a healthy relationship with the mmc. god forbid a fmc get character development. the audacity people have to make uraraka a bitch even though she is probably the most sweetest girl in mha is beyond me, making me do backflips over here, 360s

[doumadono]

I'm excited to share this incredible artwork created for me by the super kind and talented @explosion-island ♡ It features Bakugo alongside my two MHA OCs - Ayame (his wife) and Mikka (their teenage daughter). I love how Bakugo is dressed formally but with a slight messy touch - his tie not perfectly tied, combat boots instead of patent leather shoes, and his tuxedo slightly rumpled. It perfectly captures his personality - he's just being himself. In my little AU, he's already the number two pro hero, and his daughter attends U.A., aspiring to be a hero like her dad ♡

I want to express my gratitude once again to the artist for creating this beautiful drawing for my birthday. It was truly one of the sweetest gifts I've ever received!