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mamayan · 1 year ago

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Okay imagine this - (you don't have to do it, you can delete this if it makes you uncomfy, I love you and you have done nothing wrong ever) - but IMAGINE okay?

Bakugo Katsuki, The Dynamight, number two hero, and his child with you is quirkless (bonus if reader is also quirkless)

Imagine the disappointed ambition - he was so sure the kid would inherit his quirk or something similar, he was so sure - especially since the kid looks like Katsuki - and yet...

I guess I'm in mood for hurt-comfort 😔

Honestly, I see this affecting our dearest mama here, as it’s likely for Katsuki to really fall for someone after being a bully/jerk to them.

Imagine his quirkless sweetheart, desperate to please and impress at all times because they’re just useless without a quirk (thanks to his bullying in the past) and realizing their child inherited their quirkless gene?

Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugo x Quirkless Fem! Reader!

Growing Pains

cw: SFW • Language (R) • Hurt/Comfort • Bully to Lovers • Child Care (tis the season) • Pro-Hero Katsuki • Fem! Reader • Marriage • Katsuki learns how to communicate a little better

A child is a gift so precious one must always be careful never to forsake it.

That’s what his hag-mother always said at least. The endless joy though which his daughter brought truly lived up to her words though. A gift. A precious, incredibly tiny and fragile, gift he swore to never forsake as he held the bundle in his arms at the hospital.

You looked beautiful even after so long in labor. Joy painting your features and making his heart ache from the sugar being injected into his veins. The love and adoration in your eyes only making his resolve harden further, to protect you both and love you two till his last breath.

So what changed from that moment till now? As a normally happy rambunctious toddler sits in complete stillness with eyes wide in horror. You didn’t look any better, skin perspiration more than his own on a usual day, lip being chewed until the skin breaks and he’s forced to grip you tightly.

“Hey—,” his gruff voice wakes you up.

“I’m so sorry…” his brows furrow in confusion, your apology unexpected and odd.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” He feels the atmosphere in the room start to divulge, his child and you both acting as if you’d heard a cancer diagnosis and not something he’d already considered the possibility of. Of course he’d wanted his daughter to have a quirk, but it didn’t call for such a grave reaction.

“It’s all my fault… I’m so sorry baby…” the tears freak him out more, your tears flowing endlessly as you stare at him with such hopeless eyes he’s startled to his core. Dark garnet eyes widening as a sick feeling enters his gut, something churning he can’t even name. “I failed both you and our daughter, making her weak and worthless like me—,” He’s going to be sick for sure, the sterile little clinic room starting close in on him.

He’s Dynamight, number 2 pro hero, and only because shit for brains Deku was better with the media but still, he’s not sure what to do. How to fix it, as you hold your child and cry, asking for forgiveness from him.

It makes him remember every instance of the past he cringes and does his best to avoid thinking on. Every tug of your hair, every shove to the floor, every time he made you feel small for something so superficial as not having a quirk.

Your tears were endless, and they seemed to spur on his daughter as well, her little sniffles making him nearly enraged as the door creeks open at the worst moment and the doctor returns.

The woman’s sympathetic gaze make him want to punch her, the way she seems understanding and not offended as himself.

“It can be a hard acceptance Mrs. Bakugo, I’m happy to recommend some quirkless support groups for the two of you, then we can look at some family care plans—,”

“What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about? Support group? They don’t need a fucking support group, your raggedy ass bitch—!”

“Katsuki!” “Mr. Bakugo?!” “Papa?”

It didn’t matter, he wasn’t hearing words anymore, top blown and his tempter unleashed as he nearly blows the door off after throwing you both over his shoulder and storming out. Cursing the entire way, uncaring of the phones being pulled out and people whispering and recording. He’d get an earful from the agency but it hardly computed in his mind.

Your fault? It seemed clear enough it was his fault. When all he ever did was make you feel belittled for your quirklessness, small and weak because of it, and now what did it do?

It passed on to his own fucking kid. His fault. This was his fucking fault.

His own eyes were admittedly wet as he shuts you both up in the car. Making sure you both are buckled in safely before he nearly screams once he’s seated behind the wheel. He wants to scream more, yell and break something to deal with the flood of guilt and shame washing him like an old friend.

He never apologized, only pushed it all away like the bullying and harassment never occurred when he started courting you. He’d been in love with you, and that bullying was his sick revenge for making him feel so much adoration for a single individual.

His frame engulfs the seat, muscles taunt and wide chest heaving as he calms down slowly to your silent tears and wobbly bottom lip.

“Katsuki… can we not have any discussions with her in the car…? Maybe we…,” you lick your lips as you fumble over yourself like a nervous wreck in the passenger seat, eyes wide and pacifying as you give him a look filled with a plea. “—Maybe we could have her stay with your mother tonight?”

Because you think he’s angry at you and at her.

For being quirkless.

The most defenseless and precious people to him, the two he’d sworn to never hurt or mistreat, now looking at him with complete devastation and heartbreak. His daughter is never usually so silent and still, sitting like a little doll in her car seat.

He’d always been a confident man. Unshakeable and firm in his resolve because he refused to settle and let himself be anything less than the best.

For all he is though, he’s never felt more helpless and human.

You flinch when the first tear falls.

The sight just as jarring as the realization your child is like you.

Katsuki’s eyes widen before narrowing as he grits his teeth and bares them like a hurt animal, tears spilling as he slams his head on the steering wheel in frustration. The windows tinted and thankfully adding a touch of privacy he’s grateful for now.

“I’m sorry—!” It’s wobbly and hissed like a curse, his apology burning his throat as he forces it out. He can’t look at you as he wipes at his face, shaking his head as he clears it to focus long enough to repeat himself.

“I’m so fucking sorry—never, never did I think less of you ‘cuz you didn’t have a damn quirk—! I was an asshole, a piece of shit that didn’t know how to deal with my crush on you, so I fucking ruined it by picking on you.” His eyes are blood shot, kept wide to prevent anymore liquid spillage but the way his entire face and body scrunch up, it’s difficult to believe he’s able to stop himself on sheer will alone.

“Papa…?” It’s like a slap to the face when he looks over at his daughter to see a spitting image of you both in her, features more like him but personality following you in a way that makes him melt.

“Y’listen good,” he gathers himself up better as he addresses your daughter now. “You will never be less than anyone else, quirk or no quirk, y’hear me?”

“But—,”

“No buts. It’s not up for debate. A quirk doesn’t classify a person’s value. It never has. We just associate them with power when in fact, a bunch of useless quirk havin’ shit stains run the country. A quirk ain’t power kid, power is in will, and that’s all you.” He’s glad you kindly dismiss his slip in language, watching as her little eyes widen and well with tears too.

“So I’m not bad?”

“You’re the best damn thing that’s happened since I met your mom. I love your mom, don’t I? She’s great even if she doesn’t have a quirk. Strong and resilient, patient and smarter than I’ll ever be.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight it may break soon if he doesn’t release his grip.

Then he’s being met with you. Your arms wrapping around him, your own muffled cries in his shirt. His hands are around you just as quickly, pulling you into him as much as the small space in the vehicle allows, breathing you in and calming himself as he reaches out and unbuckles your daughter to pull her little body into the bear hug too.

“You mean it…?” Your whisper barely audible as he holds you both close.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

And that’s enough for this moment. While he’s not a great man, Katsuki truly never lies, sometimes honest to a point it’s painful.

This is a bittersweet pain though.

Dividers/ @cafekitsune

#Yan answers #Yan loves her mooties #tw: child care #bnha #bakugou katsuki #pro-hero katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #hurt/comfort #mha

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whirlybirbs · 7 months ago

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— CAN'T WE BE SEVENTEEN? ; shoto todoroki ; 焦凍

summary: he's loved you since he was seventeen. pairing: f!reader x pro hero!shoto ; reader was a 1-A student tags: mutual pining, heavy make-out, thinly veiled sugar daddy shoto, reader does not go pro, touya might be a dick but he's a hero now, shoto is bad at feelings wordcount: 5.6k a/n: i do not fucking know what came over me, enjoy your food my little todorokinas. yes the title is what you think it is. no i will not elaborate.

You never did go pro.

Truthfully, you thought there would be more pushback when, in your senior year, you announced your plan to pursue a degree in early childhood education with a focus on non-conforming quirk development.

The War changed a lot. It changed you, your classmates, and the world. But, through it all one thing stuck with you:

What if someone helped Tenko Shimura?

How different would his life have been? How different would history have spun?

You graduated at the top of your class and joined the faculty at Chiba Prefectural Preparatory School for Quirk Specialties two years ago.

Chiba Prep was opened eight years ago in response to a societal cry for more infrastructure around what was dubbed "non-conforming quirks": a nice way to say quirks that can injure, maim, or kill. Maybe even all three on a bad day. Some parents still see their child being labeled as a non-conforming quirk user in the national database as akin to social suicide.

You see it differently.

Your quirk allows you to manipulate emotions — anger, sadness, betrayal, love, hatred. If you can feel it, you can sink it into another's psyche deep enough to drive them to act. You can even imbue things with feelings. For example, a cup of warm milk can transform into more than just a simple comfort, now it can hold the feeling of home and safety, or even exhaustion strong enough to put even the biggest foe to rest.

You could easily use your quirk with nefarious intent.

You could steep hatred in someone's bone so deep it drives them to harm themselves. You could sew fury so solid into someone's mind it drives them to violence.

Just a touch and you can control others with something so intrinsically personal it only exists within themselves: their feelings.

What makes you any different from little Asuke, a shy little girl with a quirk that allows her to see people's greatest fears, and then manifest and control them? You're convinced she can use this for good, if only with practice. In your mind, her future is bright and glimmering. Perhaps she will become a therapist, focusing on exposure therapy? Or, maybe the most prolific horror novelist in their time?

Or, bright and sunny Tao — a transplant whose parents sought out Chiba Prep's specialized education — whose heteromorphic quirk makes his bodily fluids, namely saliva, eat through nearly anything but his own biologics. A sneeze is quickly the most dangerous thing in the world for the cheery, lizard-bodied class clown.

He's just a boy given a quirk that needs more care.

He isn't a villain-in-training.

None of them are.

It's important to teach them that young — and as their teacher for Year 3 of their elementary schooling, you aim to hammer that in as much as possible. They deserve to feel normal. To feel loved and supported. They aren't scary, they're children.

So, you take it upon yourself to insist on pushing for privileges like field trips. There aren't many public spaces that welcome the classes of Chiba Prep with open arms. Over the years, there have been plenty of incidents. But, a day trip into the city to visit Tokyo's Hall of Heroes is green-lit with bubbling excitement from both faculty, the children, and their parents.

You usually keep your history as a graduated member of Class 1-A quiet.

After all, you never did go pro.

And even still, Shoto Todoroki never stopped thinking about you.

He remembers that weekend everyone moved back in for their last year before graduation. He remembers you smiling at him, and helping him drag up a duffel of luggage from the common room to his dorm. You made a joke about how you're sure he got taller over the summer, and how his hair is longer now. You said you liked it.

It was the beginning of the end, then.

His crush was a silent, smothering thing. It made it hard to think. Shoto had enough on his plate thanks to Touya's acceptance into the Villain Rehabilitation Program and his father's insistence on staving off retirement. Not to mention his parent's divorce — no matter how amicable, it was still a separation. Add on training, tests, studying, finals, and j-term classes... And a desperate, writhing, burning crush on the nicest girl in class?

Touya's elbow digs into Shoto's side.

It drags him back to reality — to the stifled quiet of the historical Hall of Heroes.

Suddenly, the doors to the wing squeak open, and a tour guide ushers in the elementary school class. The buzzing excitement and wonder are visible on each of their faces as the attendant — one of the HoH's lead tour guides — excitedly explains the newest, in-progress addition to the Hall:

Endeavor's wing.

There's a whisper of awe that ripples through the children as their teacher and co-teacher follow, and as the class moves through the large, open space. They're staring up eagerly at the gilded statue in the center of the room. It's larger than life and intimidating. Years ago, Shoto might have had to fight the odd tremble in his knees at the reminder it brings: to be small in his father's shadow again. But, things are different now.

Very different.

Touya scoffs. "I thought this wing wasn't open to the public yet."

"They're just children," Shoto hums, turning his back on the gaggle across the way to inspect the large mural winding along the back end of the installation, "I'm sure it's—"

"Oh, ho, no way!"

Shoto quirks his brow at his brother's outburst. His elbow digs into Shoto's ribs again.

"Ain't that the pretty girl you never got the balls to ask out your senior year?" comes the rasped drawl of his older brother's voice. Touya is clearly amused, his white hair hanging in his eyes as he leans forward to squint, "She is cute, Sho'—"

"Shut up," Shoto grits, turning his head over his shoulder; he tries to bite back the flurry of nerves that ignite in his gut, "Stop talking."

It is you.

You look... good.

Happy.

You're crouched by a small, timid girl in the back of the crowd. Your hand is in hers, and you're pointing upwards at the large paneled screens replaying Endeavor's most historic fights. You're explaining something to her, your knees bent as you squat. You look... the same. As if in the six years since they graduated, you sat still in time.

For a second, it's like he's seventeen again.

It's his senior year, and he's stuck at the corner of the gym's edge with a half-empty glass of punch in his hand. The lights are low, and there's slow music playing. His tie feels too tight. Bakugo keeps telling him to 'ask her to dance already', and Kirishima is considering bashing his head through the wall. Even Midorya is trying to persuade Shoto.

"It's prom, man! C'mon, this could be your last chance—"

Touya is about to be a real pain in the ass — his favorite pastime — and make some comment about your ass, but when he turns to lob the one-liner at his baby brother, Shoto's gone.

Shoto is on the move.

The crescendo of gasps draws your attention first.

Then, the cry of "WOAH, IT'S SHOTO!" leaves you dumbfounded. The rippling murmur of excitement bleeds into the children as their eyes — and the eyes of the tour guide — widen at the sight of the approaching Pro Hero.

Shoto Todoroki.

He looks... good.

Really good.

He's a bit older, and a bit more filled out than when you were both teenagers. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders — it's a distant echo of his father's physique, though Shoto is so much more elegant and much... prettier. He's always been.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

It's your senior year, and you're sprawled across Momo Yaoyorozu's bed.

They had finally wrangled out of you who your crush was: something they hadn't been able to do in all their years as classmates.

There's a sticky, Miss Midnight-themed face mask clinging to your expression as you try to flip through the large magazine in your hands as nonchalantly as possible. Mina's voice, as she paints Ochaco's nails a bright pink on the floor, is sweet and saccharine as she looks up at you.

"I think you and Shoto would be, like, the cutest couple ever."

You're still crouched when the tour guide nervously — like she was caught doing something naughty — introduces The Pro Hero Shoto to the already-aware crowd of elementary school students and their teachers. It's like igniting a match; the uproar of excitement leaves you laughing as three of your boys push forward to bombard him with questions about his quirk.

Asuke is smiling shyly, now. That's a small win. She's intrigued by the appearance of a real hero, not the "scary statues" — and her big, fat tears stopped rolling the moment you laid a gentle hand on her to quell her anxiety over the new environment with a push of comfort through your quirk. She unhooks her pinkie finger from yours as you guide her towards your co-teacher.

"Boys," you call with a crisp air of authority as you stand and lead Asuke toward the bulk of the field trip group, "What have we learned about personal space?"

"It's fine, really, Insight," comes Shoto's voice; as warm and placid as you remember.

"Insight?" mutters your co-teacher at the presumed hero-name; a look of confusion plasters itself on her face, and her big, feline ears perk up. She leans in to whisper in a way that borders on conspiratory, "Do you two know one another?"

"Old classmates," you confirm, not daring to get into the finer details.

Shoto's attention is entirely rooted in the way you manage the kids. There's something beautiful about the ease with which you handle the bouquet of students; you quell the excitement into a manageable decibel like it's as easy as breathing.

"Shoto," you start as you gesture to him, "Has a very special quirk — Toyamai, he has ice like you. And, fire like Tojiro. He can��regulate his temperature. Can anyone tell me what that means?"

There's a wave of hands shooting up, a few me, me, me's rise from the gaggle.

You're using him as a teaching moment.

Shoto's smile is soft.

You nod at Ogomi, excitedly nodding as the reserved child speaks up. Normally, he hates public speaking. But, recently, he's started working with the speech pathologist during lunch. The boy bounces a little as he answers. "He doesn't g-get too hot, or too c-cold."

"Exactly! Isn't that cool?" you grin at the lazy attempt at a pun, "This is why it's important to learn about our quirks as much as we can!"

Touya thinks this whole thing is just too cute.

You're different than he remembers — but, granted, things were sorta different last time he saw you. He was a little too busy tryna kill his old man and lil' Shoto. He's different now, too. A changed man! A real licensed hero. Support items and all.

He hangs back.

He... I mean, he is a jack-ass but he isn't gonna ruin this for Shoto.

...It's kinda cute.

Just about as cute as Fuyumi said it was.

Apparently, Shoto had opened up to her and Natsuo about his feelings after graduation — about how he regretted not doing anything about it. Fuyumi then told their mum, who then off-handedly mentioned it to Touya... and well Touya dug in because, duh, he is a whore for good gossip. He might be the family's black sheep, but Shoto is the glue that binds.

And he deserves to be happy.

Your co-teacher is ushering the kids to the next installation — a viewing of All Might's Legacy, a new documentary following the retired pro's teaching career. It will be a good wind down for them, in comfy seats and the dark. It's hardly the sort of content an elementary school student would find riveting, but it is All Might. And they love him.

You hang back.

Shoto's heart is hammering in his chest.

"Hey."

"Hi," you greet back, closing the door to the theater and stepping forward as you weave your arms around you, "Long time no see."

"Yea," Shoto breathes, his hands in his pockets as he meets you halfway across the museum's marble floors, "I... I see you're teaching."

His eyes are as pretty as they were back then. Slate grey and piercing turquoise. "I'm in my second year," you confirm softly, fiddling with the material of your sweater, "Congrats to your old man."

You gesture up at the statue, then wave around to the rest of the installation.

Shoto inhales, then nods; he's staring at your face, blissfully realizing you're just the way you were all those years ago. Kind. "I'll pass it along."

"How's he handling it?" you ask, your eyes raking across his expression and trying not to stick to the sharp slope of his jaw, or the bob of his Adam's apple, "Retirement, I mean."

"He's happy, I think. Touya and I are working together and... things are... good."

Last month, Endeavor finally retired. He cited his age, and his dedication to passing his legacy to his two sons: Shoto and Touya. Shoto has planted himself firmly within the Top Ten in the last year or so, and shockingly, Touya isn't far behind. People love an underdog's redemption story, you suppose.

And the underdog in question can read a room.

This is getting a little too sexually tense for even him.

"Heeeeey, girl," he rasps out, staggering backward with a thumb over his shoulder, "Nice t' see ya. I'll let you two catch up, yea? I'm gonna go pop my head into the theater, see how the kids are handling the snooze fest on screen—"

You jump.

How long has he even been there?

"Hi, D— Touya," you strain, wincing a little; the rehab'd villain doesn't seem to mind.

"Hi, teach'. That cool with you?" he asks, wobbling his thumb and quirking a pierced eyebrow; it's comical, like he's trying to disarm you with humor, "Don't want you thinkin' I'm corrupting your youths—"

"It's fine," you breathe, ignoring the sting of age-old mistrust. You know better. Shoto wouldn't be here, with him, if Touya Todoroki hadn't changed. Endeavor wouldn't be entrusting his legacy to the ex-League of Villain member if he didn't believe in his capacity for good, "Just don't be disruptive."

Casting judgment on someone whose life was nearly destroyed by his own non-conforming quirk would go against everything you taught the kids anyway.

"Touya's whole thing is being disruptive," Shoto grits as his oldest brother slips silently through the doors, "I apologize for him—"

"No," you wave him off, laughing a little, "Don't. It's... nice to see you two together."

Shoto's expression is soft as he wanders a little closer. "It took time — and a lot of therapy — but we've all managed to come out the other side."

"That's great to hear, Shoto," you breathe, your eyes flitting across his face, "I'm really happy for you."

There's a long silence, then — and you can't help but ignore the roil of butterflies in your stomach. The eye contact is heavy with some unspoken thing, and both of your tongues are weighted by secrets-never-turned-confessions.

It's like finally this dance you've been doing around one another for years breaks — and the two of you throw caution to the wind at the exact same moment.

"Would you like to—"

"Are you free—"

Hesitant, slow grins bloom on both your faces.

"Dinner?" is all he manages after a sweet moment of soaking up your soft smile, "If you're available...?"

You make yourself available.

Yaoyorozu almost dies when you call her that night — winded from tearing through your entire wardrobe. You explained you had nothing to wear a-and you needed something nice, and you only have an hour to get ready, because Todoroki — yes, stop screaming, Todoroki — is picking you up at 8pm.

Little bro is nervous. Touya can tell.

From his spot on the sofa, the white-haired ex-degenerate scoffs. Natsuo is digging around for some cufflinks in Shoto's dresser.

"Seriously, Sho'? A suit?"

"It's a nice restaurant," his brother says tightly, adjusting the collar of the black button-down, "I booked the upstairs dining room for privacy."

"Who the hell told you t' do that?" Touya quirks a skeptical brow.

"Father was the one who suggested it."

"...That old dog."

Natsuo rolls his eyes at the exchange before throwing his hands as he emerges from the closet. "Do you have any links that aren't emblazoned with U.A. High School's crest?"

The ones in Natsuo's hands have his graduation year on them.

Shoto winces.

"Want me to ask dear ol' dog of a dad?" Touya snarks from the corner, his posture becoming less and less upright as he scrolls on his phone.

"Already did," comes the soft voice of Fuyumi; she's smiling, padding into Shoto's room with a velvet box, "He offered up his nicest pair. He also says not to screw it up with Insight. He likes her."

Of course, he likes her. You worked under Endeavor for a brief work-study period during your third year. Shoto remembers hearing grumbled praise over dinner one night about your talent for de-escalation.

"You told him who I was seeing?" Shoto asks incredulously, taking the box and working the cufflinks on. He's starting to feel exasperated.

Fuyumi nods, popping down beside Touya.

"He asked. I'm not gonna lie to him."

"Did y' tell ma?" Touya rasps, peeking up over his phone to inspect Shoto's outfit. Not half bad, honestly. He looks good in all black. A man after his own heart, "M'sure she's gonna be real excited—"

"Yes," Shoto grumbles, "I called her earlier—"

"Chiba Prep is a really good school, y'know," Natsuo buts in as he tries to find a tie that matches Shoto's outfit. Ultimately, though, the middle brother decides against it and tosses the options over his shoulder, "They're, like, on the leading edge for quirk therapies."

"Hey, nerd? Quiet down. The big kids are gossiping," Touya shirks, turning back to Shoto, "What did mum say?"

"She wants me to call her after—"

"One, you're gonna call mum the morning after," Touya raises a finger, "Because if you don't get laid, I'll be so fuckin' disap—"

Fuyumi slaps Touya's chest. He lets out a pained yelp at the solid smack.

"Uh, ow," he rubs his sternum. "An' two, take a deep breath. You look like you're gonna shit yourself. Those are my pants and they're expensive."

Shoto lets out a long breath.

Fuyumi's smile is sweet like honey. "Aw, Sho'! It's gonna go great. You two have known each other for such a long time, and catching up is going to be amazing. Just be yourself! Confident and kind—"

"—Hold the door open for her, and pull her chair out," Natsuo adds as he adjusts Shoto's collar for him, "Car door, too—"

It's Touya's turn. He's dead serious. "—And do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night. I swear to god."

Easier said than done.

You never did go pro.

Those years of hardened battle instincts have lost their edge. You try to remind yourself this is just Shoto, not The Shoto — but you're a little lost in the whole celebrity of it all when he picks you up in a very nice, sporty little car with ENDVRplates.

You answer the door and he forgets how to breathe.

He has flowers for you. They're blue and blooming and beautiful.

Fuyumi's contribution.

You settled then you were going to kiss him at the end of the night.

The restaurant is... nice. Really nice. The sort of nice you could never aspire to experience on your teacher's salary. Even the valet is a concept that has your head spinning. But, Shoto handles it all with cool ease. The entire time, his hand is settled on your lower back.

It feels like you've been lit on fire.

You're glad Momo was able to create a dress fitting for the occasion. It's sleek and black. Comfortable, too. Not much can be said for your heels on that front, but it's fine.

Somehow, Shoto managed to book the entire upper floor of this place in all its glimmering glory — it's just the two of you alone in a sea of tables.

The waiter is pouring you a glass of the chef's suggested pairing of sake.

You thank him, smile, and take a sip as Shoto unbuttons his suit jacket and watches you.

For a second, you're seventeen again.

Sero and Kirishima were always in cahoots when it came to parties back then — somehow, between the two of them, they always managed to smuggle enough booze onto campus to obliterate any semblance of promised sobriety from even the most stoic members of 1-A.

You remember one night, after a lot of hounding, you finally gave in and joined a few of your classmates on the back lawn for a few drinks.

A few beers turned into a cup or two of wine, and then another big gulp of whatever deranged jungle juice concoction Kaminiari managed to cook up. It tasted terrible, but you were too drunk to really care. Shoto was no better. He was nursing his fourth drink of the night — a rarity he was even drinking at all — and seemed completely fine with the way your arms brushed as the two of you sat close in the grass.

He was always so nervous around you. Now, he just seemed... happy.

"I can't believe there is only one week left until graduation."

Graduation day was the last time you saw him.

Until this morning, that is.

You smile into your drink.

"What?" you ask when his eyes never leave your face.

His fingers twitch towards his own glass. Shoto blinks, then rolls his jaw. He was caught staring. He clears his throat, looking a bit shy. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" you press playfully, cocking your head to the side.

"You..." he starts, then bawks. You're stunning, and it's making it hard to even think straight. He thought these feelings might have mellowed out over the years but seeing you again has just reignited everything. He feels like a hormonal teenager again, "You look beautiful."

Your expression falters into something lovesick. You chew your lip. "You're not so bad yourself, Todoroki."

He manages a half-smile. "Touya had me worried the suit was a bit much."

The idea of Touya offering him advice on his outfit strikes a chord in your heart. It makes you smile even bigger than before. "Well, you can tell Touya that I like it. A lot."

You rake your eyes up and down him. On purpose.

He notices.

Shoto's face feels hot.

He tries to shake the bone-deep want that has swept his entire body up in its grip, but it's difficult when every single word out of your mouth reminds him just how in love he was with you back in school. You explain, excitedly, why you chose to teach at Chiba Prefectural Prep and catch him up on where you've been living since graduating. He's pleased to learn you're still in the area, living in the city, and decidedly in love with the commute to the school.

Shoto's always been a good listener — but you can see how much he's changed when he begins to speak about his career. He seems so much more sure of himself than he was all those years ago. It wasn't that he was... unsure... but, no. He was shy. Quiet.

Now, less so.

It's adorable.

Dinner comes and goes with conversation over sushi that is far too good for you to even process. It's easy talking to him. It was easy talking to Shoto back, then, too but... Things are different. You're both different. Not in a bad way, but in a way that feels like coming home.

While you both wait outside for the valet, Shoto shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders without a single word. Suddenly, you're cradled in a warmth that's very Shoto — his cologne clings to the collar and you bury yourself a little deeper into it.

Shyly, you step closer and steal his hand. It's calloused and warm. He laced his fingers with yours as if practiced. You bite back a grin. You give his hand a little squeeze when you spot the car coming around the corner.

His silence is calming — and he squeezes your hand back. When you look up at him, you realize he's already looking at you.

His face is close. It's so... intimate. Very. Nearly better than a kiss.

But, you've wanted to kiss Shoto Todoroki since you were seventeen.

The valet driver interrupts the moment with a respectful call of Shoto's name and offers the keys with a shake of the hand. With a little bit of hesitancy, Shoto remembers the thing Natsuo said — the car door, too — and moves around the passenger side to open the door for you.

It's sweet.

Really sweet.

The car ride back to your apartment is punctuated with easy conversation — you ask him about Bakugo and Midorya, and you're pleased to hear they're both doing well. He asks about Momo, and if you still keep in touch with Mina and Ochaco. He smiles to himself when you admit you did call Momo for help with an outfit.

"She did a beautiful job," Shoto breathes, a palm moving from the gear shift to brush over the dress' fabric on your thigh.

His hand settles there.

Your stomach does a flip.

You chew your lip, swallow down a sudden burst of nerves, and let your hand rest over his. You squeeze it. Shoto tries to focus on the road. His gaze drifts for a moment at a red light, his heterochromatic eyes dancing across your figure.

Keep it together.

He isn't seventeen.

He's twenty-five. He's a Professional Hero. One of the Top Ten in all of Japan. He's more than capable of keeping it together in the face of physical touch from the woman he's dreamed about for years.

...Right?

Green light.

His hand is still on your thigh when he pulls up to your apartment.

The touch is relinquished in favor of putting the sports car in park.

It makes your chest ache.

Shoto swallows thickly.

Do not chicken out on kissing her at the end of the night.

He'll never forgive himself. But, admittedly, he's bad at this. He's not good at reading body language, or even knowing himself enough to realize he looks mildly terrified as you blink up at him in the passenger's seat. His heart is hammering a mile a minute.

What if you don't want to kiss him?

When would he even kiss you? Now? Or at the door?

Why does he feel like he's going to die?

"This was really... Shoto, are you okay?" you ask as you unbuckle your seatbelt; you pause, your brows knitting tightly.

"What?" he asks, blinking back to the present moment. The look of fear disappears, "Sorry. Yes. I'm fine."

You're working his jacket off your shoulders, gently leaning to fold it neatly in your lap. Your voice dips low, into something playful. "You didn't look fine..."

"I—" Shoto clamps his mouth shut as he leans an elbow on the center console, "Sorry. I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Nervous?" you grin, a little giggle punctuating your words as you wriggle in the red, leather seat, "Why?"

Your expression makes his expression crack. He ducks his head as he huffs out a laugh. You continue to egg him on via expression alone. "I... Stop it."

"Stop what?" you push some more, your back pressed to the door as you face him in the car, "You're the one being weird—"

"I'm not being weird—"

"Then what's wrong, Shoto?" you tease in a sing-song voice.

"I'm nervous because I want to kiss you."

His words are punctuated by a slow look that takes in every inch of your face. Butterfly wings kiss your stomach walls. And your knees. You feel a little tremble in your chest.

It feels like someone has sucker punched you square in the sternum. Shoto's no better. He isn't entirely sure what the expression on your face means. Is that... good? Are you happy?

Your voice is a little quieter now. You duck your head and fiddle with his suit jacket as you lean back against the seat, a little closer now.

"You don't need to be."

Shoto's breath catches at that.

So, he makes his move.

His hand comes first — his calloused palm settles nicely against your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone as his pointer finger brushes the underside of your jaw. Shoto is slow. Methodical. It's like he's trying to ground himself in the moment.

Truth be told, he thinks he might be blacking out.

Your eyes flit up his wrist — a dark leather band around his wrist with an expensive watch face, a dark dress shirt with glimmering cufflinks, strong arms and a broad chest, and you can see the dip of his collarbone where the top two buttons of his shirt remain undone.

He looks so damn handsome with his sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and his trademark white and crimson hair. Even his scar is beautiful.

The touch pulls you in like he's got his own personal orbit.

Your elbows are braced along the center console, your eyes flicking across his face as his fingers continue to brush along the soft expanse of your cheek. You wring your fingers together.

Then, his eyes stick to your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispers, his breath fanning across your face.

You never did go pro.

But, Shoto did.

It shows.

Because, at this moment, all you can do is nod feebly before you're swept into the sort of kiss people go to war for. It's the sort of kiss that sticks to your ribs, that feels like warm, fresh food. It's the sort of kiss that would drive you to the brink, that would make you nod and agree sure, let's get married and have three kids, let's name one after your father, and paint the house blue like your mother's favorite flower—

His mouth is eager, but not in an overbearing way. It's gentle. Slow. As if he needs to remind himself this is real and not some midnight fiction that leaves him aching and alone. Shoto reminds himself to be tepid, pliable, and easy, which is easier said than done when somewhere deep inside of him there's a seventeen-year-old screaming in victory.

It's better than anything he could have ever imagined.

And then you whimper.

It's a sound tied between bliss and relief and it's muttered against his mouth as you lean in and let your fingers brush the fabric of his dress shirt. The tips of your fingers brush his abdomen and he flexes, the feeling foreign and warm. It warrants his other hand to drift to your face and you break for a breath; he doesn't care that there's lipstick smeared across his mouth. He's kissing you again — this time a little bit more feverish, a little bit more aching.

You melt against him, this time your hands trembling to grip his wrists.

He needs to slow down.

He is not having sex with you in his father's car.

That's shameless.

He needs to slow down.

He has to, or he'll lose himself in this and he refuses to fuck this up.

Shoto's breath is ragged when he finally peels himself away, his lip parted and eyes half-lidded. His grip on your face is still so soft, so gentle. It's very him.

You're glad you didn't do this when you were seventeen.

It would have permanently altered your brain chemistry, you're sure of it. How could you ever kiss someone else again after that?

He's rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You swallow, and try to level out your breathing. It's hard when he's still so close, when he's so... perfect.

"I've wanted to do that," he murmurs against your cheek, "Since our last year at Yuei."

A well-kissed smile breaks across your face. You reel back, your nose wrinkling as you shake your head in disbelief. Shoto is smiling. A real smile. The sort that's so rare you can count on one hand the amount of times you've ever seen it in person.

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he says, chastely pressing another to your other cheek as he leans back.

"Me too," you admit shyly, "Can we... do it again sometime?"

Shoto's eyes widen incrementally. Then, his smile eases back onto his face.

"Are you free this weekend?"

"I can be," you reply easily with a honeyed look, "And I will be. For you."

"I get off patrol on Saturday around seven," he explains before asking timidly, "We could... do dinner again?"

"Works for me," you breathe as you move for the handle of the car door, "After all, I never went Pro. Weekends are free."

Shoto scoffs.

Then, as you open the door and swing a leg out:

"Oh, and tell Touya I thought the suit sexy."

Shoto's laugh is dry. You leave his jacket on the seat and scurry into your apartment with a lovesick wave. He swears he sees the silhouette of a familiar ponytail greet you at the door, but he doesn't dwell on it. He waits until you're inside and the lights to the front door are shut off.

Then it hits him. He has another date with you this weekend.

Not so seventeen anymore, Shoto Todoroki.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x you #shoto todoroki imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagine #shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #touya todoroki #i LOOOOVE HERO TOUYA #HE IS SOOOOOO CUNTY

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brningcigs · 7 months ago

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─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

no1-pro hero!katsuki x babysitter!reader !!

╰┈➤ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“is the brat asleep?”

you were knocked out of your cleaning trance upon hearing that familiar gruff voice, glancing over your shoulder and smiling before you looked back down to finish washing the dish in your hand. “he sure is.. he knocked out about twenty minutes ago.”

katsuki approached the sink, leaning against the counter as he watched you clean the dirty dishes in the sink. “how’s he been with you? i know he can be a handful.” you simply smiled and shook your head. “he’s an angel. s’got a temper like his daddy, but i know how to handle him.” you replied, your smile only growing. ever since you started working for bakugou you and his son became inseparable. he was the sweetest kid - sure his tantrums were a nightmare but he was awesome.

katsuki chuckled and nodded his head. “yeah sorry bout that.. he seems to take after me with a lot of those kinds of things. how are you with.. yknow, everything? working for me i mean. any complaints?” as you pondered his question you turned away from the now empty sink and grabbed a clean rag, drying your hands off on them before looking back up at katsukis taller frame. “i like it.. i really do. honestly i would do it for free. you’re son is wonderful and you’re..” you stop yourself before you accidentally say something unprofessional, smiling sheepishly as your ears heat up a few degrees. “you’re wonderful as well..”

the corner of katsukis mouth pulls into a grin noticing the faint hint of color on your cheeks and he leans in a little closer. “you’re pretty wonderful yourself.” he spoke in a foreignly tender voice and you can’t help but lower your head to hide the growing blush on your face and tuck your hair behind your ear. “thank you..” you say as you glance back up at him, your eyes switching between his red ones.

a brief moment of comfortable silence falls between you two before katsuki finally breaks it, his hand reaching out to rest on the counter top behind you. “do you wanna have dinner with me sometime?”

you almost choke on nothing, surprised by his sudden proposal and you find your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so much. “i- yeah i would.. love that a lot.” you reply with a small giggle and a few chuckles pull from katsuki as well. “good.” he replies, nodding his head in triumph.

a moment of silence fell between you two but it wasn’t uncomfortable. when you first started working for katsuki, he was more stand-off-ish, not really making conversation or feeding into your attempts at small talk. but as the weeks of working for him turned into months he became more accustomed with you, and you were just so good with his son.

katsuki could still recall the moment he realized he was interested in you beyond working as his babysitter for his son - or his ‘brat’ as he referred to him as. he had come home from work late, pushing down enough of his ego to apologize for getting held up when he spotted you in his sons nursery, holding the small child in your arms protectively in your sleep. his features softened as he stared, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and his heart swelled.

ever since that moment, he knew he wanted to get closer to you. he became more talkative, showing his appreciation more. he even started paying you more, which took him having to tell you to shut the hell up when you politely declined, pointing out that he had more money than he knew what to do with.

now that he’d finally made a move, you were beyond overjoyed. you weren’t sure what to expect of this date, but you couldn’t wait to finally get to know him on a deeper level.

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with-my-calamitous-love · 6 months ago

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LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I’VE EVER KNOWN

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you gain news that your ex boyfriend and pro-hero dynamight has returned from a work trip out of the country. coincidentally, he’s calling your phone right now.

part 1/2

inspired by ‘tis the damn season

everything you learned about katsuki while he was away was against your will.

following in all might’s footsteps, and right after one messy, icy breakup, katsuki left to do hero work in the united states. if you wanted to know who he was hanging with, what girls he was supposedly kissing, or who he was replacing you with, you could have asked. seeing his life in footnotes, on instagram stories and through headlines was the kind of cold that fogged up windshield glass.

theres a lingering ache in your heart, put there by the ache in katsuki’s.

your breakup felt inevitable, more than anything. circumstances, timing, stress… one second, he’s loving you. the next, he’s telling you he needs to think things through. and right after that, he’s on a plane to los angeles with kirishima.

it was almost nice, not having to see him at the agency or anywhere else. you wouldn’t be tempted to call his phone, since the international bill would only break your heart more. you couldn’t go to his apartment because it’d be empty- if you’re not counting the phantoms of lost love.

the 2 weeks he was gone felt like an eternity on your end. you blamed the time zones, though you knew they weren’t capable of freezing time and making your heart ache more each minute.

and with the first snowfall of the season, katsuki bakugou lands back in his home country.

he thanks the attendants in his private jet, shoving his already warm hand into his pockets as he steps out into the brisk air. its colder than he remembered, as if the world felt the same loneliness he was experiencing.

its 10pm, and the snow is glistening against the moonlight like a mirrorball. the sky is blanketed by clouds, a pink hue washing over katsuki as he steps out of the airport and into the night.

he stares at his contacts for a second. he intends on calling an uber.

but either his thumb slipped, or he missed you too much to care about the cold pricking his fingertips. each could be true.

you’re in the process of turning up your heater when your phone lights up through the dark. fingers peeking out the sleeve of your sweater grasp the device, nearly dropping it to the floor when you see who’s trying to reach you.

as if on instinct, your thumb hovers over the green button, before ultimately letting it go to voice mail.

after a hot shower to drown out the chill, you find him calling again. this time, you sit on the edge of your bed, finally resigning to pick up.

you don’t say anything first, wanting to hear him first. maybe you had to make sure this wasn’t some twisted dream.

“…hey babe.” katsuki says, his gruff voice lingering with a soreness in his throat that can only come from prolonged exposure to the cold. that, paired witb the familiar nickname despite the circumstances, makes you clutch your phone.

“hey, kats.” you say, shifting on your bed to get comfortable. after all, any emotional night with katsuki bakugo was destined to be long.

“when did you land?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. you hope he doesn’t hear the trepidation in your voice.

“an hour ago.” he says, stifling a sniffle like a child would. you almost laugh, knowing him too well. he wasn’t the kind of guy you could forget easily.

“i just needed to hear your voice.” he admits, more to himself than to you. crimson eyes watch the way the snowflakes fall to the ground, dancing around in the wind. he remembers how much you love snowflakes. how you’d always try to catch them on your tongue, and how stupid he thought it was. the things he’d give to go back to that.

the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice makes your eyes water. it was something about the cold that brought out the aches in people. like holidays that linger like bad perfume, you both could run from the hurt before getting lost in the snow. you escaped into your warm apartment, away from the world, while katsuki escaped into crowds of adoring fans away from home.

whats funny is that both of you remember how the other left.

the cold air pricks at katsuki’s fingers while he waits for a response. he almost thinks the connections gone out, when in truth, your holding back tears.

with a shaky sigh, you speak. “lets… call it even, then.” you whisper, but he’s captivated by your words like a firework show. “i wanted to hear you, too.”

the breath of relief katsuki lets out can be seen in the cold, night air.

there was about 100 thrown out letters you wished you could send him. you could vomit words onto paper, send them out into the winter air and let the wind deliver your confessions to him.

and honestly, he wants you to. more than anything, he wants to sleep in with you, pull the blankets over that shield you from the cold just for old time sake. and if you don’t want him to stay this time, then he won’t ask you to wait.

if this doesn’t work out, he’ll go back to LA. he’ll let his so called fans write books and stories about him, about his heroism and his nobility without knowing how much his heart hurts on the inside. they’ll wonder about the only soul who knows what that hurt feels like. the only soul who knows all the smiles he’s faking: you.

he hopes that he only breaks his own heart, wanting to spare you from it. if he could, he’d leave you the warmest bed you’ve ever known. he’d call you babe for the weekend, and love you warm against the winter chill.

if somewhere, in his heart, katsuki’s love for you despite the breakup remained the same, then it was the same for you, too. if its okay with you, its okay with him. you could call it even. you’re missing his smile, and you want him to hear you out.

you might have to, with what he’s about to say next.

“…i’m outside, babe.”

part 2 soon 🫧

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writeriguess · 23 days ago

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Hiii! Can I request a Katsuki x fem reader where they're both top ten pro heroes, being in their late twenties, and she realizes she's pregnant, but is very scared and stressed when she discovers it cuz she's worried about her carrier and her and Katsuki already agreed on not having any kids, cuz it could be dangerous for the kids and wouldn't fit into their busy schedules? Also they're already like 6-7 years married? And so she's been avoiding him and Katsuki could tell immediately something's wrong with her and when he confronts her about it she breaks down and he comforts her? Angst + fluff? Also both of them have been rethinking their decision to not have kids but never brought it up cuz they never admit it to themselves and were also nervous that the other didn't want kids.

Thank uuuu!!! <3

Unspoken Wishes

You’d always thought of yourself as fearless. As a pro hero, you’d faced death countless times, stood against villains that could’ve ended you in a second, and yet, none of that compared to the sheer terror gripping your chest as you stared down at the little white stick in your hands.

Two pink lines.

Your stomach twisted painfully. You felt like you were going to be sick, and maybe that was just the pregnancy symptoms kicking in, or maybe it was the sheer weight of the realization settling over you like an avalanche.

You were pregnant.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You and Katsuki had been so careful, so sure that kids weren’t in the cards for you. It wasn’t that you hated the idea—well, maybe before, when you were younger, you both thought it was impossible to raise a kid in your kind of life. Being in the top ten of Japan’s pro heroes meant your schedules were packed, your work dangerous. The idea of bringing a child into that chaos felt cruel.

And yet… somewhere along the years, as the both of you had grown together, built a life together, a part of you started questioning if that decision was still the right one.

But you never said a word.

And now? Now, you didn’t even have the choice to ignore it anymore.

Your hands trembled as you set the test down on the bathroom counter, leaning heavily against the sink as you tried to control your breathing. Katsuki would know something was wrong. He always did. Even after all these years, he could read you like an open book.

Which is why, for the past few days, you’d been doing your best to avoid him.

It was ridiculous, really, but you didn’t know how to face him. You weren’t ready for whatever his reaction would be—disappointment? Anger? Resentment? What if he looked at you like this was a mistake? Like you were a mistake for letting this happen?

So you started leaving for work before he woke up, staying out later under the excuse of extra patrols. You answered his texts late, kept your conversations brief, and pretended not to notice the growing frustration in his voice.

But Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. And avoiding him was about as effective as trying to stop a wildfire with a single cup of water.

You had barely stepped into your shared apartment that night when you felt it—the tension in the air was suffocating. You set your keys down, swallowing hard as you toed off your boots, trying to brace yourself for the inevitable.

And then his voice cut through the silence.

“The fuck is going on with you?”

You froze.

He was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, his sharp red eyes locked onto you. His hair was still damp from a shower, messy and unstyled, and the black tank top he wore only made the tension in his broad shoulders more obvious.

He was pissed.

“You gonna keep actin’ like I don’t exist, or are you finally gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened. “Katsuki, I—”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t even try to tell me it’s nothing. You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been avoidin’ me for days. Not answerin’ my calls, sneakin’ out before I wake up. What the hell is goin’ on?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your hands curled into fists at your sides, your entire body trembling. The weight of everything—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming emotions—was pressing down on you all at once, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“I—I’m pregnant.”

The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them.

A heavy silence followed.

Katsuki didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. But you saw it—the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

And then, just as quickly as it came, the shock faded, and he exhaled sharply. “Shit.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket. “Yeah. Shit.”

Katsuki ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched tight. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t angry. But the look on his face was unreadable, and that was almost worse.

“I didn’t��I didn’t mean to keep it from you,” you whispered. “I was just… scared. We agreed, Katsuki. We agreed we weren’t gonna have kids. That it wasn’t safe, that our jobs—” Your voice broke, and you looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to hate me for this.”

Katsuki swore under his breath, and before you could react, he was in front of you, gripping your face with both hands. His touch was firm but gentle, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slipped down your cheeks.

“The fuck makes you think I’d hate you?” His voice was rough, but there was something else there too—something raw, something that made your chest ache. “You’re my goddamn wife. The person I love more than anything. And yeah, we agreed on not havin’ kids, but—” He swallowed hard, his thumbs stroking your skin like he was trying to ground himself. “But lately, I’ve been thinkin’ maybe that ain’t what I want anymore.”

Your breath hitched. “You… what?”

He huffed, looking away for a second like he hated admitting it. “I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna force it on you. I thought you still felt the same.”

Your chest tightened. “I thought you still felt the same.”

His grip on you softened, his hands slipping down to rest against your waist. “Guess we’re both a couple of dumbasses, huh?”

A watery laugh bubbled past your lips, and he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

For the first time in days, the fear that had been eating you alive started to fade.

“You’re really okay with this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Katsuki scoffed. “Tch. ‘Course I’m not okay with it. I’m fuckin’ terrified. But we’ll figure it out.” He rested his forehead against yours, his hands sliding around to press against the small of your back. “We always do.”

And just like that, the dam broke. You buried your face in his chest, gripping the fabric of his tank top as the sobs you’d been holding back came spilling out.

Katsuki didn’t let go. He didn’t tell you to stop crying, didn’t act like it was something to be ashamed of. He just held you, his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When your sobs finally quieted, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We’re gonna be okay, baby.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through teary eyes. “Promise?”

He smirked, the same cocky, confident grin you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. “Yeah. I promise.”

And for the first time since you saw those two pink lines, you finally let yourself believe it.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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delirious-donna · 9 months ago

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tw: katsuki x female reader, pro-hero, early 30s katsuki, pure smut, pussy drunk katsuki, finishing untouched, implied multiple rounds, implied unprotected sex, seriously I was just on a filthy rampage 😌

It had happened so fast; so fast that you weren’t sure when your intent had been entirely disregarded in favour of your hot-headed husband’s desire to devour you whole. Not that you were really complaining.

Your phone slid onto the counter, anticipation thrumming through you knowing that another patrol had ended successfully with nothing but a few scrapes and scratches to deal with. Child’s play at this point for the number two pro hero and the love of your life.

Heavy boots stomped towards the apartment door; each step echoed in time with the second heartbeat between your legs and you clenched them shut for a hit of friction. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, not without his body slotted against yours. Hard steel enveloped by your soft curves.

The overwhelming swell of lust was immediate when the door opened, a head of ashy blond spikes dipped low appeared and it felt as if his presence sucked the very oxygen from the room. His cumbersome gauntlets were missing—likely left behind at the agency—but his hero suit remained. It was covered in fine dust, thick black streaks of dirt darkened his biceps and sweat lingered on his brow and shoulders as if he had run here… had he run here?

It was hardly a new scenario, this man was your husband and the routine of his dangerous line of work was well accustomed to both of you, but there was always the adrenaline that came after the ‘fight’. It consumed you both, dragged you under raging, lust-fuelled waves until there was no rational thoughts left—only the need.

Katsuki was your air, your reason to draw breath; all you wanted was to see him happy, loved, content with the world he built for you both. Those were the desires you always harboured, right now, you were focused on your baser instincts.

You needed to swallow him down, have his fat tip punish the soft tissue at the back of your throat until you were slurping down his seed like the greedy beast you felt like. Dammit, you were already licking your lips in sweet anticipation. The phantom salty musk taste whet your mouth with runny saliva, and he smirked when he caught your eye.

Honestly, you had expected to settle low and spread on your haunches. You wanted to worship him whilst he towered overhead. His sheer size and frame were mammoth and imposing; broad shoulders and arms thick with golden-hued muscles, a barrelled chest heaving with every inhale and his nostrils flared as confidence beat against his conscious thought. Bakugou Katsuki was a pure powerhouse of a man, a man of action first and foremost, and never more was that true when you felt his deeply calloused palm grab at the back of your neck.

His mouth slanted atop yours, tongue bullying its way into your mewling mouth as you grabbed at his shoulders to stabilise yourself against the force of being hauled against his chest. His unique glycerin laced sweat mingled with the spice of his soap, filling your nose with only him whilst caramel burst over your tastebuds.

Katsuki overwhelmed your senses so easily that you had no idea you were being walked backwards towards the bedroom. He boots thudded as he kicked out of them, stalking forward with no sign of halting the dominance of his kisses, the grope of your hips, waist, breasts. He never stopped, refused to waver and you were simply swept up in the rip tide that he was his momentum.

Instead of falling to your knees in the hallway like you intended, you found your spine pressed against rich brushed cotton sheets, bare and vulnerable to his attentive gaze. It had you squirming, reacting to every simple brush of his fingers on your heated skin. It did not go unnoticed, nothing every did with Katsuki.

You whined, low and throaty when he pathed a wet trail of kisses down your front, stopping at your breasts and lapping at your peaked nipples in turn. He showed no sign of shucking out of his hero suit, and whilst you adored him decked out for business, right here and now, it simply wouldn’t stand.

“Kat—please...”

His crimson eyes rolled in feigned annoyance, but the smirk couldn’t hide exactly how pleased he was that you wanted to see more of him, like he didn’t already know… the menace.

“For a kiss,” he bartered with a smug smile.

“My fucking pleasure,” you replied, eliciting an amused huff of the hero hovering over you.

Grabbing at the front of his compression shirt, you pulled him down until your lips crashed against his. The kiss was a mixture of sweet and salty, the pace alternating between slow and steady to hurried and frantic. You knew every lick to make him groan, every nip at his bottom lip that would stir the beast within until it roared with the compulsion to take over.

“Cussing is my vice, get your own. Now stop complainin’ and let me eat you out.”

With those rough words, the top half of his clothes swiftly disappeared into a dark corner leaving him bare-chested and magnificent. A literal wall of muscle with a liberal smattering of scars, and it stole your breath to gaze upon him.

Your foot braced against his toned pec, taking in the sight of the ash blond God that moved to kneel between your thighs, drinking him down in intoxicated delight.

Katsuki kissed along your calf until his nose pressed against the fat of your thigh, a low moan issued from his throat sending sparks dancing in your veins. Sometimes you could hardly believe it; the big burly pro hero known for his surly, no-nonsense attitude was so easily affected by being buried in your pussy—pussy drunk if you will. It would make you chuckle if he wasn’t in the process of scattering your wits to the wind with his hungry mouth.

Time ceased all meaning as you gave into Katsuki’s every whim, giving up on the keening pleads for you to return the favour after your second orgasm broke onto his awaiting tongue, slick slurped down his swallowing throat. His fingers tightened into the fat of your backside, spreading you further apart with each massage of his warm calloused hands.

He took his time in licking a fat wet strip over your soaked cunt, tugging on the puffy flesh of your folds with insistent lips. Guttural groans vibrated against your throbbing clit, your bud tender from the array of orgasms the hulking male pulled from you without showing sign of stopping.

Your toes sank into the flexing muscles of his broad shoulders, sensing their every ripple as he prodded once more at your gushing entrance. Slick already coated his fingers, drenched up to the knuckles as he pressed against your velvet walls.

“So good—taste so fuckin’ delicious,” he grunted, lips dancing across your sweat dappled skin with every word.

“Oh, ‘suki—oh god. Please, one more.”

Eyes of brightest ruby snapped up to lock with your own, widening almost imperceptibly as his entire body jerked, once then twice. His digits pressed firmly against your front wall, massaging the engorged tissue of your pleasure spot in earnest until you broke apart at the seams once more.

So blissed out from the release of tension low in your belly, you barely realised when the weight on the bed dipped and moved, Katsuki rolled sideways on a panted breath to reveal a large damp stain on the front of his black combat trousers.

“Fuck—I… shit-I need a minute. Got me busting in my damn pants like I’m still a fuckin’ horny teenager, sweetheart.”

You chuckled but quickly schooled yourself into some semblance of a stern expression. “You’re saying it’s my fault, Bakugou?”

“Don’t you Bakugou me, Mrs Bakugou. Don’t think that cause I ruined my trousers I’m not going to ruin your insides. Just gotta give me five minutes,” he huffed, standing to peel away the sticky mess from his cum-covered groin.

You paid for that attitude… over and over until you were as ruined as he promised.

#delirious writes #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut

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realcube · 4 months ago

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dilf december

day two ⭑ katsuki bakugo ⭑ student's parent x teacher! reader

tw : nsfw minors dni, age gap, oral (giving), mentions of vaginal, praise

it's always difficult when there is a problem child in your class, and for the sake of the other students' learning, you need to get their parents involved.

but it's even more difficult when the aforementioned child's only parent is worse than they are.

school had ended, and you had scheduled a meeting with the parent of a child in your class who has been disrupting and causing trouble. you tried to deal with the situation internally but you've been left with no choice but to call a parents-teacher conference.

it was disheartening to hear the child only had one active parent in their life, but that didn't change the fact their behaviour had to be dealt with. you called their parent and arranged for him to meet you in your classroom at 3.10PM.

it's now 3.30PM and a rugged man with spikey blonde hair and light stubble, wearing a black hero costume comes barging into your room, yelling, "alright, make this quick."

before you can even process what he looks like, he's thrown himself down on the chair that you had positioned across from your desk. you take a moment to look at him, and that's when you realise he's not only extremely hot but also that you recognise this guy has a very well-known pro-hero. king explosion murder dynamight god or something over-the-top like that.

but regardless of his occuption or how famous or how good-looking he is, you must remain professional and treat him like you would any other parent of your student.

"good afternoon, sir. i'm glad you could join me today to discuss your child's academic performance. twenty minutes late, however."

he crosses his arms over his chest and dramatically groans, "i see what the problem is. so, i'm not going to sit here and get lectured about my kid's 'academic performance' from some tween who graduated yesterday."

you blink twice, unfamilar with being met with this much hostility right off the bat. so it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you are able to choke out a response. "my age or experience has nothing to do with this. i'm just trying to help your child succeed in my class."

taking a calm approach seemed to be effective, as bakugo sunk back into his chair. his arms were still crossed over his chest and he still had a sour expression but at least he's listening.

"okay. so if you don't mind me asking, what are things like at home?"

"fine." he replies bluntly.

you nod along, trying to mimic a concerned look, as though you don't already know exactly what the problem is. "alright. it's just that your child has been displaying signs of bad-temper in class and is prone to angry outbursts, and those behaviours usually stem from within the household."

"yeah? well, his mums a whore so that probably doesn't help either." he states plainly, averting eye-contact.

you harshly bite your tongue to prevent you from laughing or even showing the slightest sign of amusement on your face. "oh?" you croak. "so i assume there has been a bit of infidelity."

"a bit." he agrees, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"and how are you all planning on navigating the situa—"

"look. you're not a god damn therapist so don't try this psychoanalysis bullshit on me. just tell me what you want me to do. make him do extra homework? yell at him? take his games away? what?"

you press your lips together in a line, and stare at him in thought. you clear your thought and reply unsteadily, "i don't.. really know. to me it seems like he is just mimicking behaviours he sees at home and is responding to a high-stress environment. are you the only one who lives with him?"

"yeah. me, him and sometimes my mum babysits." he grumbles.

"well, i think we'd need to address the root of the cause. and i hate to say it, sir, but that would be you."

"of course it fuckin' is." he spits, and you brush this off and continue talking.

"you seem very irate about the situation with your wife an—"

"ex-wife." he corrects.

".. ex-wife. and rightfully so. on top of that, i understand you have a very intense and high-stakes job? all of that stress cannot be good for you; i'd suggest you take steps to address your own worries and that should ease the tension in your house."

"don't be stressed or angry. got it." he replies sardonically.

"just take some extra time to chill out and focus on yourself. plus, i happen to know a very effective relaxation technique, if you're interested?"

he quirks an eyebrow.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

you pride yourself on being a helpful and engaging teacher. that's part of the reason why you find yourself on your knees, hidden away in the janitor's cupboard, with your student's dad's dick in your mouth.

it's dark, with only a single flickering bulb illuminating the room, and it casts shadows over his chiselled face. making him all the more intimidating to gaze up at, with crystalline tears welling in your eyes from the way his fat cock bruises the back of your throat.

but even then, he has a firm grip on your hair and uses it to maneuver your head to his pleasing, forcing you to take it all repeatedly at a pace of his making. "shit, you're too fuckin' good at that." he groans lowly, sighing through his nose.

his gaze flickers rapidly between staring into distance at looking down at you and watching your every move; how your sweet cheeks puff out to take his girth, or the way your plump lips clasp and pucker around him. but occasionally he'll lose himself in the intoxicating feeling of your warm mouth and find his eyes rolling back in his head and increasingly lewd noises coming from him.

in this instance, he didn't snap back to reality until after he had shot his salty load into your mouth. you close you mouth as he looks down at you expectantly. without a word exchanged, you swallow it and he only chuckles. "what a good girl." he muses, pulling you up to your feet by your hair and admiring your dishevelled state.

when you are at around his level again, he notices a smudge of cum has spilled from the corner of your lip. so he promptly uses his thumb to guide it back inside, admiring you as he does so.

but this is short-lived before he swiftly turns you around by your hips and works at unbuttoning your jeans, "now let me try this tight pussy."

#bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bnha x reader #👾nsfw #dilf⭑december

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fatkish · 11 months ago

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Hiii Could you do a fluff head cannon with all the mha pro heroes (aizawa,present mic,all might,mirko, And midnight) like little moments with child reader

Pro Heroes x Child Reader:

(Platonic) Fluff HC’s

Aizawa:

Snuggles with the reader all the time

Probably bought a matching sleeping bag for the reader

Has secretly put up their drawings in his office at school

Lets the reader sleep with him when they can’t sleep or have a nightmare

Will go through the house and make sure no villains or monsters are hiding before bedtime

Reads story books at bedtime or tells the reader stories about uncle Mic or his students

Would definitely have pajama parties

Would help the reader build blanket and pillow forts in the living room and sleeps in them

Helps the reader as best he can with their homework

Hizashi:

Most definitely has dance parties or plays music videos games

Bought the reader one of the children’s karaoke machines and cheers the reader on now matter how bad their singing is

Loves playing hide and seek with the reader

If the kid likes to dress up whenever they play then he’ll definitely help and tries to make the reader look like a mini him

Definitely bought the reader instruments like a toy keyboard or drums to let them explore music and see if they like it

Makes up the weirdest and silly stories for the reader’s bedtime

Helps the reader with their homework by making a game of it or making it entertaining

Has pictures and drawings from the reader all over his desk and office

All might:

Dad jokes 100%. Will tell all kinds of them no matter how lame or stupid they are

Plays pretend and has the reader be the hero who defeats the evil tickle monster

Tries to cook food with the reader like baking cookies or making their own homemade pizza. Has had to try to keep the reader from eating all the ingredients when they were younger

Carries the reader on his shoulders and will toss them in the air

Definitely tries to introduce foreign foods to the reader such as classic American dishes like an American hotdog or apple pie

Tells the reader stories of his hero days when he was younger or his experiences overseas as bedtime stories

Helps the reader understand their homework and shows them how to do it before letting them try if they’re struggling

Let’s the reader wear his shirts since they’re so big on reader and he thinks it’s cute

Proudly shows pictures and the reader’s drawings to his coworkers

Mirko:

Definitely cheers on the reader whenever they play Heroes and villains

Will definitely give actual advice on how to fight a villain

Has morning yoga sessions with the reader to help them increase their flexibility

Would most likely play wrestle with the child

Reader has a bunch or Mirko merch and has all the limited edition items thanks to Mirko

Recounts stories of the villains she fought that day as bedtime stories or makes some up

Tries to help the reader with their homework and will hire a tutor or ask another pro to help them if possible

Definitely has the reader’s drawings in her office and proudly displays them for all to see

Probably has a trampoline and teaches the reader how to do cool jumps

Midnight:

Loves going shopping for clothes with reader

Will definitely play heroes and villains with the child and be the villain

Would also pretend to be a civilian in need of saving

Helps reader design their ‘hero’ costume

If the child can’t sleep then she’ll use her quirk to help them sleep

Will read story books to the reader and tuck them in at bedtime

Helps the reader with their homework by referencing the problems to things they already know or that they like, for example: with math, Midnight will use visual references like pieces of candy to help the reader understand addition and subtraction

Has bought so many stuffed animals for the reader, their room is basically filled with them

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suksatoru · 6 months ago

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his hero... ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

synopsis; dabi finds his new obsession - you - a sweet hero who he loves to play cat and mouse with ⊹₊ ⋆

pairing dabi x reader!

Dabi has been watching you for a while now.

He shouldn't be anywhere near you - he knows this. But he simply can't help himself. How can he when the most wonderful hero is right in front of him - kind voice weaving through the crowd as you attend to all the children running up to you, begging for an autograph?

He had originally ventured to the better part of the city, where kids played freely in their front yards and vendors sold their fruits and vegetables to passerby’s without fear. He didn't know why he did exactly - but a change of scenery felt necessary.

He didn't tell the League a thing, wordlessly leaving their hideout in dark jeans and hoodie pulled over his head as he began what he believed to be a quiet stroll.

He heard the voices of excited chatter before he actually saw you. Turning the corner, he already anticipated the crowd of people had only formed because they had spotted a pro-hero. He was right of course, and as he tried to push through the crowd to pass through - he struggled to easily maneuver through the mass of people. There were too many.

Normally, he would've shoved every single person in his way to the ground if he had to - but he knew just how much attention that would attract in this type of environment. Especially if a hero was nearby. With a quiet groan, he realizes he's stuck.

Finally, he lifts his eyes off the ground to see the hero all these people were fawning so much over.

You're kneeling on the ground as a little boy is crying the happiest of tears, eyes shining with nothing but childish adoration while he hugs you. You whisper something in the toddler's ear that sends him into a fit of giggles - and Dabi watches how you treat all the children that follow him in the same manner, kindly offering them your undivided attention and treating them with the upmost respect. Every child left your embrace with the widest grin ever plastered on their chubby cheeks.

Dabi's eyes were solely on you - a beacon of light that completely outshined the darkness.

That was the first time Dabi saw you.

˖ . ݁��‧₊˚.

"Come on, hero! Come catch me." he drawls out

Your legs ache. Just how long had you been chasing the notorious flame villain Dabi for? This was nearing the second hour, and every other hero in the area was unavailable to come help you as back up.

"You are insufferable!"

He tries not to smile, peering down at you from the building he was perched upon as he watches your eyebrows furrow adorably, lips pulled back into a frown as your gaze narrows.

You had been seeing a lot of Dabi recently. He was building quite the reputation amongst the city, wreaking havoc and petty crimes often. If only you knew they were all to get your attention.

"I think it's pretty funny no heroes are around to help you, huh? I get you all to myself tonight." He says, and the unmistakable flush on the tips of your ears evokes a raspy laugh from him

"Why are you doing this? Don't you have better things to do?" You sigh, exasperated by the endless chase he had you running. He's silent, still smirking at you deep in thought - he was contemplating his next move, and you know he had made up his mind when his lips curled into a menacing smirk

He comes down from where he was perched atop a building, landing on the ground with a gracefulness that had you mentally scoffing. You've been going insane out of your mind chasing him, out of breath too as you tried to keep up with one of the most powerful villains - but he seemed so relaxed, almost as if he were playing some sort of a game.

A blast of flame shoots from his palm - and you let out a cry of surprise before shielding yourself from the unexpected attack

The fire wraps around you - it was hot, licking your skin as it moved - but the flames did not touch you. They were merely a distraction.

Lowering your hands from your face, you realize you've lost sight of Dabi.

You're completely still for a moment - unsure of what move to make next as you realized he was hiding somewhere in the shadows. The moonlight above gave you no advantage in this fight. It barely lit the dim street you stood on, and your heart beat pounded in your ears as you realized the situation you were in.

"Hey hero! Now that I think about it, I remember hearing a little something about you."

You whip around in a panic, trying to find Dabi's figure in the dark as your eyes squint in frustration

Night patrol had been going so smoothy - of course he had to show up right when your shift was about to end.

"Dabi - "

You can barely finish saying his name before he holds his hands up in mock surrender, grinning mockingly when you slowly lower your own hands. He knew your hero heart was too good to attack him unless he made the first, violent move.

"What do you want from me?" You sigh, and he stuffs his hands back into the pockets of his coat with a shrug

"Can't I drop by and spend some time with my girlfriend?"

There he goes again. Saying the most random things at the most random times that leave you a stuttering, blushing mess -

"W - What? You are not my boyfriend!" You yell, genuine frustration in your features as you tap your foot impatiently against the ground - unsure of where he was going with this conversation

"Yet." He rasps with a crazed grin

A shiver runs through you at his words.

Your eyes harden, narrowing on him once again as he finally pounces- he didn't use his quirk - instead, his hand reached out towards you with the speed of light as he tried to wrap it around you. You dodge his attack, side stepping and wrapping a single leg around his. He struggles for a moment with his balance before he's pinned against the nearest building - his back hits the brick wall with a thud, and a flicker of surprise flashes through those bright blue eyes as he looks at you

You had managed to best him - and a part of him was happy you did. The lamplight illuminated your face, and his mind trailed back to the way your face glowed when his blue flames had come near you.

Finally - you had him under your control. You press his body against the wall with all your weight - hand raised to the side of his face as a warning that you would activate your quirk if he tried to escape -

Yes, you had finally gotten him -

"You're really pretty, ya'know that?"

You blink back at the villain - taken a back by his words mid fight as your grip on him loosened just the slightest bit - and that was all he needed to knock you off your feet, flipping your arms as he pinned your wrists to the wall, enticing a gasp from you

He grins, tongue poking through his sharp teeth as he peers down at you

"Real pretty..."

Your quirk was of no use if you couldn't move your hands - and he held your wrists above your head with a single hand against the wall, his knee keeping your legs separated as he prevented you from making a single move

"Imagine how much fun you'd have on a date with me - I promise, it'll be the best night of your life. You haven't even given this poor man a chance. " He mocks, bright eyes watching you with a sly smirk as you struggle to release yourself from his grip

"Let go!" You cry out, trying to push him off of you - it didn't help that he was so much larger, his tall figure towering over you as he laughed

"Nuh uh. I don't think so." He drawls out, and you can feel his grip on you tightening as his free hand comes down to gently tug on a loose strand of hair - you move forward to try and bite his finger - and he yanks his hand back at the last second, a hoarse cackle sounding through the air as you glare at him

"Aren't you just precious?"

You're fed up now - tired of him playing cat and mouse with you. Twisting your arm - you maneuver yourself around him and free yourself from his grasp - planting a firm kick onto his back before he can even turn around

That kick would've knocked the wind out of any one else’s lungs - but as he kneeled on the ground - his hands being pulled behind his back by you, a dark chuckle leaves his lips.

"If you wanted me on my knees like this, you could've just asked me hero." He says, and his eyes widen when you press your palm against his mouth to silence him

"Stop it."

He can see the undeniable blush coating your soft cheeks - and he grins sharply at the lovely sight, hoping he can stare at you long enough to engrave it into his brain forever.

Of course, he escaped police custody mere days after being let out of your sights.

˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

one week later - the day of his escape.

"A present?" You mumble quietly, smiling to yourself as you pick up the bouquet left outside your door. Dark blue flowers are bundled together with white lace, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

This was obviously a personal gift - not something from one of your fans. You're home was a private location, so the only reasonable conclusion as to who gifted this bouquet to you was one of your other hero friends.

A small card is tucked between the petals of a flower, and you pry it open with delicate fingers while reading the lanky, dark handwriting written on it.

Go check what's on your bed, hero ;)

You freeze, eyes scanning over the note again as you try to take in the words - your bed? inside your apartment? But - how did Dabi find you? Again?

You fumble with your keys, heart beating as you shove them into the door knob- twisting it open as you rush inside, flowers still in hand as you approach your bedroom

There's a husky smell - one simply too manly to be yours, and it hits your nostrils the second you enter your bedroom.

On your bed laid your hero costume.

The name "Dabi" was written obsessively over every inch of the fabric in dark ink.

It didn't seem like this was a little liking Dabi took to you anymore - no, this was a need - one that burned too fiercely to be put out

Lucky you.

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dabiekql · 1 year ago

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Recommendation - Jujutsu Kaisen/Haikyuu/Boku no Hero Academia/One Punch Man/Attack on Titan/Tokyo Revengers

Navigation

-----

🔮 Jujutsu Kaisen

Singledad! Sukuna x Neighbour! Reader

Sukuna - affaire de cœur

Sukuna - How Sukuna Loves

Sukuna - Having Soft Spot on Concubine Reader (NSFW)

Sukuna - Sukuna & His Love Languages

Sukuna - What If He Lost Someone

Yuta - Cursed Spirit (NSFW)

Gojo - Won't You Say It Back?

Gojo - Wanna Be Yours

Geto - Wings

Geto - We're In Trouble Now

Geto - Sorcery Schemes

Megumi, Itadori, Sukuna, Geto - When They Accidentally Yell at You

-----

🏐 Haikyuu

Ushijima - Story Time

Kageyama - Communication (Omegaverse)

Alpha! Kuroo - Come See Me

Alpha! Kuroo - Please Don't Let Me Go

Oikawa, Iwaizumi - Let Me Help You (Omegaverse) / Oikawa, Matsukawa, Hanamaki

Bokuto, Ushijima - Back Me Up (Omegaverse)

Sugawara, Ushijima - Time Bomb

-----

💥 Boku No Hero Academia

Bakugou - One Word to Describe Bakugou

Yandere Barbarian! Bakugou - Iron

Alpha Dragon! Bakugo x Thief Omega! Reader

Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x Female! Reader

Overhaul - When Kai Wakes Up in Another Universe

Overhaul - Wedding Day

Hawks - Courting Troubles

Alpha! Dabi x Omega! Reader

Alpha! Tamaki Amakiji x Omega! Reader

Dabi, Shigaraki - He Tells You to Run During His Fight and You Get Lost

Hawks, Overhaul, Dabi - How the Boys React to You Doing the Break Up and Get Back to Your Ex Thing

Omegaverse - Anything from this Author is Great

-----

👊 One Punch Man

Yandere! Garou - Turning the Tables

Yandere! Garou - Please Don't Save Me

Yandere! Garou - Child's Play (NSFW)

-----

🔰 Attack on Titan

Levi - The Perfect Blend

-----

🏍️ Tokyo Revengers

Chifuyu, Mikey, Mitsuya, Baji, Izana - Mythological AU! #2 Omegaverse

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queenpiranhadon · 5 months ago

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╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ✸ .ᐟ: You and your best friend Mina Ashido go on a much needed girls night - the strain of managing your kids and work life has been strenuous, and both of your loving husbands were more than willing to watch over the kids for the night. However by accident, both men manage to wreck the lego set the kids have been working on, and so they decide to play a game to distract them from the wreckage.

✸ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Pro Hero! Bakugou, cursing, you can Katsuki have two twin daughters, you and Katsuki are married, f!reader, fluffy, crack, your kids call you mama, Katsuki calls you baby, f!reader, usage of Y/N like once.

✸ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, Ejirou Kirishima x Mina Ashido

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: ✸

"Alright, I'm leaving!" you call out, and your husband's red eyes rake over your form before wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he presses a firm kiss to the temple of your head.

"Ya better have fun tonight, yeah?" he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, and you hum softly, turning so that you face him, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck, playing absentmindedly with the baby hairs at his nape.

"I will.. promise to hold down the fort until then?" you ask, smiling knowingly and Katsuki smirks, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Yeah yeah, I can handle the brats for the night, woman." he says and you giggle, rolling your eyes playfully.

"I'll hold you to that Suki.. make sure Eji doesn't burn down the kitchen, okay?"

He clicks his teeth, snorting at the thought. "Tch. As if I'd ever let him in my kitchen in the first place."

You chuckle, remembering how possessive the explosive blonde could get over his favorite room in the house. "Yeah.. you barely let me in the kitchen when we first started dating."

Your husband's eyes soften a little at the thought, drinking you in one last time before you had to leave for your girl's night with Mina. Honestly, he still couldn't process it to this day, one wedding and two children later- he always found himself awestruck at the fact that you were his wife.

Or even simpler- you were his, and to that extent, he was yours as well.

You press your lips against his lovingly, and he reciprocated with no hesitation. Katsuki always was and is a lover who showed his affection through actions, channeling all his love into a single kiss, one that always took your breath away.

The small noise of a throat clearing is what causes you to break apart, seeing Mina in the corner of the room with an amused expression on your face.

"S'cuse me, lovebirds but I'm going to need to steal your wife from you Bakubro." she says lightheartedly, and Katsuki frowns - though lackluster- from the nickname. Both Mina and her husband still insistently called him the same nickname from their UA days, as did the rest of your friendgroup, and it was frankly amusing.

You hum, squeezing your husband's hand one last time and pressing a kiss to his cheek before turning to leave with Mina, waving before shutting the door gently behind you.

Kirishima stumbles into the room just then catching Katsuki's attention, with one child attached to each of his limbs, your daughters clinging to his legs and his daughters on his arms.

It would never not be funny, the four of you - Ejirou, Mina, Katsuki and you - thought, that you all ended up having girls. Mina became pregnant with their first daughter the year before you became pregnant with the twins. And then the year after that, Mina got pregnant again with their second daughter.

One of your girls, Kasumi's eyes light up at the sight of Katsuki, detaching herself from Kirishima's leg and bounding over to her father, grinning up at him.

"Hi Daddy!" she chirps, and Katsuki chuckles, scooping her up into his arms and ruffling her hair.

"Hi Muffin." he says warmly, before turning his gaze to his best friend, the poor red head trying to detangle himself from the three girls that still clung to him. "What happened to you, huh?"

Kirishima sweatdrops. "I...have no idea."

Katsuki snorts, and shifts Kasumi in his arms before motioning to his other daughter Hanami to join him, the little girl running over to him, squealing happily as she settles in his arms, small hands now playing with his spiky blonde hair.

Kirishima sighs in relief, sending the blonde a grateful smile. "Thanks man, I could barely move." he sweat drops, chuckling wryly.

Katsuki smirks, and kisses the tops of his daughters' heads before setting them down, Ejirou doing the same with his girls.

"Why don't ya go run outside, yeah? We'll call ya in when it's time for dinner."Katsuki says, and Kasumi nods eagerly, grabbing Kirishima's younger daughter Fumiko's hand.

"C'mon Fumi! We can go play with the waterguns Daddy bought us!" she chirps, and the pair run off to the backyard, their sisters in pursuit.

Kirishima watches the girls disappear and grins, nudging the blonde.

"So, with the girls gone... how've you been man? I feel like I haven't seen you in forever, especially with hero work and everything."

Katsuki nods, agreeing with me. "Yeah, me and Y/N have had our hands full... especially since, -ah fuck!" He swears, jerking away as pain shoots up his leg, accidentally stepping on something sharp.

However, it wasn't just anything, Katsuki looking down at the object, blood draining out of his face at the sight.

"Oh shit, are you oka- oh fuck." Kirishima pales as he sees what used to be the lego set the girls were working on, now shattered and completely demolished.

"Ah shit- c'mon Shitty Hair, we need to clear this out before the girls get back." Katsuki says hurriedly, and Kirishima nods, hastily dumping the pieces back in the box and stuffing it under the sofa, hoping the girls' wouldn't notice.

Just as they finish up, the girls come back inside, the two men freezing as they enter the living room.

"Hi Daddy!" Kirishima's older daughter Yui beams, before her eyes scan the room, narrowing slightly. "Where's our lego set?"

Kirishima sweat drops, trying to think of a lie on the spot. "Well, I uh, we-"

"We moved it to the dining room so that no one would step on it." Katsuki says nonchalantly, despite the irony.

Yui nods, suspicion leaving her eyes. "Oh, okay! Can we go play with it before dinner?"

Kirishima clears his throat. "Well...we could, but what if we played a game? You pick."

Each of the four girls' heads perk up at the prospect of a game. Hanami shares an evil look with Fumiko, the latter one declaring:

"We're going to play Horsey Ride!" Kirishima pales, and your husband raises an eyebrow.

"What's Horsey Ride...?"

Turns out, Kirishima didn't have to explain, because the girls had whisked the two of them outside so quickly that the situation explained itself.

The girls had their fathers on all fours, and they sat on their backs, as if they were riding a horse.

Katsuki internally groaned, mentally thanking himself for putting in extra reps at the gym earlier that week because frankly, the weight of two little girls on his back wasn't easy to carry.

Kirishima seemed to be faring the same, a grumpy look on his face as his daughter make him trot around the backyard.

Hanami tugged on Katsuki's hair, seemingly attempting to control his actions like something straight out of Ratatouille, and he begrudging obliges, now joining Kirishima in trotting around the yard.

Suddenly, Fumiko groans.

"I'm booorrreddd..." she whines and Kasumi frowns, thinking of a different game to play, something sparking in her eyes.

"What if... we have a horsey wedding!" she chirps, and both Katsuki and Ejirou freeze.

A what?!

Katsuki would rather die than do this to be honest, especially in the company of Kirishima, but he also possesses the inability to say no to his girls.

He also owes it to you.

Which is how he found himself grumpily sitting on the stairs to the porch, waiting for Hanami to escort him down the "aisle", with his hair tied up into uneven and painfully tight pigtails and your lipstick messily applied to his lips.

Kirishima wasn't doing any better, his hair stick out in all directions as the girls grabbed a sharpie and drew a mustache on his face.

Fumiko was randomly slamming away at some keys on the toy piano Katsuki bought years ago, and Kasumi was at the end of the aisle, clearly the officiant.

Katsuki crawls up to Kirishima's side, the two still on all fours. side eyeing each other as it takes every fiber in their being to not laugh at the other's appearance.

Kasumi clears her throat.

"Ahem. Ladies and Gentlemen, and Horsies, welcome to the HORSEY WEDDING!" she says, a little overenthusiastically, and Katsuki prays to whatever deity is out there that the neighbors don't hear the commotion and come over to investigate.

Katsuki and Ejirou glance at each other once again, defeat settling in their gaze.

This was going to be a long night.

And indeed it was, you and Mina returning home to see your poor husbands passed out on the floor, Katsuki's hair still in pigtails and Ejirou's face still marked with the mustache, a half built lego set in between the two of them.

You giggle, snapping a picture of the two discreetly.

If there was one thing you knew for sure about Katsuki Bakugou, it was that he would do anything for his girls.

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @tootiecakes234 @gina239 @its-liberty-frazblair @lilyadora @themultifandomgirl

@kovu-bunnbunn @callmeanythingyouwant00 @nemisimp

@milkm4nz @lightsgore @skaiblu-e @that-one-lightskin @hahajsphaha

@abinformyobsessions @sharycatx3 @meddykip @riririr11 @ladygojooo

@abyzissupersleepy @lilaccmilk @anime2006

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yanderegarden · 2 months ago

Text

Love 100mg Warning: May be addictive

Katsuki Bakugo

Student! Yandere! Katsuki Bakugo x Student! Addict! Reader

TW: yandere-themes, non-con/dub-con ideations, profanity, kidnapping, emotional, verbal, & physical abuse, implied drug-use & addiction, withdrawal symptoms, violence, blood, forced confinement. FEM reader

Tip-Jar

You and Bakugo grew up in the same town, on the same street, and attended the same schools, yet barely exchanged anything more than a simple glance in the hallways.

Growing up, you can recall briefly watching him from the entry hall window of your home, admiring his confidence even as a child. His belief that he was capable of anything could be felt even from houses away.

Your parents kept you sheltered as a child. You had the urge to go and play with the other kids, but knowing there wasn’t much you could do, you were content staying inside.

Developing a passion for your studies at a young age, you became fascinated with your courses. Excelling in middle school, you were one of the top students.

It wasn’t until one year in middle school that you were formally introduced to Bakugo—when you both tied for first place in the science fair. You had envisioned Bakugo as someone who was confident, strong-willed, and kind...

Little did you know, his jealousy of being at the top was paired with the will to be the only one there. You felt an uneasy feeling standing next to him as you both had your picture taken by the school newspaper, holding a trophy together. You won’t forget how you tried congratulating him, saying, "I don’t know how they expected us to share this medal," attempting to lighten the mood. But he simply replied, "Keep the stupid medal. It'll probably be the last one you get." From that moment on, you steered clear of Bakugo.

No longer did you have long, pondering stares at him from your bedroom window, fantasizing about what he was like or how he treated his friends. Instead, you chose to focus on yourself, your studies, and your life. When graduation day came, you applied to the public high schools in the area. Considering the reaction you had faced when Bakugo declared he'd be the only one attending UA High, you decided to stay away. You had seen the way he treated Midoriya and chose not to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Why take the risk? you asked yourself

It wasn't until your parents told you that a mutual hero friend of theirs had extended a letter of recommendation for UA High’s General Studies course and applied on your behalf.

The school welcomed your application, considering that a pro hero had recommended you for your intelligence.

You told your parents it wasn’t a great idea—that it would be expensive, that you didn’t want to place that financial burden on them, that you’d rather stay closer to home and your friends. What you didn’t disclose was that you’d rather not be anywhere near Bakugo.

They dismissed your concerns, insisting you didn’t know what you were talking about. You should be excited that a hero recommended you—it would be rude to disrespect a hero like that, they said. Do you think you know better? Eventually, they bullied you into agreeing.

And so, there you were, ready to join Class 1-C.

"This won’t be so bad?" you muttered under your breath, using the palms of your hands to flatten your uniform’s skirt and straighten your tie. You adjusted the strap of your school bag over your shoulder, took a deep breath, and forced a smile on your face—whether it was genuine or not.

The first year went by fast, and you were already in the middle of your second year, but you were drowning. Overwhelmed by your parents pressure to do well in your studies, and struggling because you still hadn't made any close friends—if any at all. You began to feel more sensitive to teachers' criticism. Riddled with anxiety whenever you saw Bakugo in the hallways, even though he barely paid you any attention.

That’s when you started sneaking out of the dorms at night.

Was it because of loneliness? Boredom? The crushing weight of responsibilities and missed, late schoolwork? You didn’t know.

But you knew that, out there, you could finally breathe.

A deep inhale of fresh air. The darkness and coolness of the night surrounding you. No thoughts—just the sound of the world asleep, the occasional car passing by.

It became a habit. Slipping out for a few hours. At first, you stayed on campus, walking the grounds, avoiding security. You had a spot near the forest where you would simply lie down and watch the stars. Then, you started venturing into the town surrounding UA.

You were surprised by how different it was at night. During the day, it was just another city. But at night? The streets were alive—vivid lights, bustling crowds, music, laughter, the smell of street food wafting through the air. You felt like an outsider at UA high, but it was different when you went out at night. At first, you were nervous to explore. You stuck to familiar places close to school, opting to visit a ramen shop, and after a warm meal, your belly full, your eyelids grew heavy. You began to get ready to leave, until a young man—who looked about your age—smiled at you. You glanced down, blushing. He approached the table. "Hello," he greeted. You hesitated but nodded. "You can sit next to me if you’d like."

You talked. What felt like minutes turned into an hour. He never ordered anything, but eventually, he asked if you’d like to walk around town. You agreed. He was polite. A gentleman, you thought. Opening doors for you, holding your bag, eventually—your hand.

You felt flattered. Someone was finally paying attention to you.

Your quiet, shy demeanor often came off as rude to others, but in reality, being sheltered for so long had made you excel academically but fail socially. So when a cute boy your age showed interest, you felt a warmth in your chest.

He bought you tea. Took you to a park. The two of you sat on a bench, watching the koi fish in a pond. Then, you looked up and caught him staring at you. His face instantly flushed, sheepishly laughed and quickly looked away. You giggled. Finally, he asked, "So, what’re you doing out here so late? A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t be out here on the mean streets all alone," he joked.

You laughed, explaining how you felt like you couldn’t breathe inside the dorms, how you were stressed from loneliness, overwhelmed by homework. You rambled, spilling your guts to a stranger.

But he let you.

You apologized for talking so much, but he simply shook his head.

"No need to apologize. I understand. I was going to a high school around here, but I eventually dropped out. My parents kicked me out, and now I live in an apartment down here."

You frowned. "Hmm… I’m sorry."

"I'm alright. I'd rather live on my own than have my parents nagging me every day. Better this way," he said. You agreed, somewhat relating to his situation. "Especially since I can do this all I want now." He pulled out what looked like a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag. "Oh shit, sorry. Did you want some?" he asked while letting out a cough. You shook your head. "Oh no, thank you. What even is it?" He smirked. "Weed." You gave him a confused look. "Devil's lettuce?" he teased. "Cannabis?" You laughed, turning red, embarrassed by your own naivety. You had heard of it, of course, but you had never seen or smelled it before.

Suddenly, you were fascinated. "What does it do?" you asked curiously. He smiled. "C'mere."

You leaned in, and so did he—until his lips pressed against yours. You kissed him back, only to feel smoke filling your lungs. You coughed, your eyes widening. Then, out of nowhere, an overwhelming urge to laugh took over you, so you did. And so did he.

That night was the beginning.

Sneaking out to meet him, to smoke, to escape—it became a habit. A few weeks passed, and then he introduced you to alcohol. Then, other substances.

You started spending nights at his apartment.

You felt guilty, knowing your parents and teachers would disapprove of this behavior. But you didn’t care.

The stress, the loneliness, the weight of expectations—it all disappeared when you were with him, when you were using. You began to love being high.

You barely made it through your second year with passing grades. You were forced to take summer classes. Eventually, the school had to intervene. A meeting was called with your parents, the principal, and the vice principal. They listed everything—your grades, your frequent absences, your improper dresscode.

"We’re so very sorry for our daughter. Please excuse her shameful behavior. We have failed as parents, but we will do our best to get her back on the right path," your parents exclaimed, bowing their heads in shame.

You sat there, numb. Unmoved. It wasn’t until after the meeting that your parents let loose, yelling at you for what felt like hours. You tried to find your passion for studying again, but the truth was, your real passion had become the feeling of being inebriated.

Eventually, you learned how to balance doing the bare minimum in school while still getting high your last year. You started sneaking your friend into the dorms, buying drugs from him, getting high in your room.

"Wow, this school is for rich kids, huh? You never told me you went to a rich kid school. Are you rich?" he asked, looking around with amusement. You laughed at his dorky demeanor. "No, I’m not. My stupid parents made me go here on a scholarship. I hate it." He chuckled, and you sighed. That night, you showed him around campus, wandering the grounds.

Eventually, you stopped by a vending machine, digging into your pocket for some change. Then, you heard footsteps. You turned quickly, covering his mouth with your hand. "Be quiet," you mouthed, bringing a finger to your lips.

His eyes widened.

You could tell—he was scared. Scared to be caught, to be punished. Arrested... again. Then, just like that, your oh-so-reliable friend chose to run. You slapped your forehead and groaned loudly. The footsteps were getting closer. Panic set in. You crouched down, pressing yourself against the vending machine side, hoping—praying—that whoever was approaching wouldn’t walk past.

You shut your eyes. Your heart pounded in your ears.

Then—

"What’re you doing crouching by a vending machine?"

Your eyes snapped open.

Bakugo.

Relief left your lungs in a sharp exhale. "Oh, it’s just you," you muttered.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Just me?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

Quickly, you got up, dusted off your knees, and tried to walk past him—only to feel a firm hand grip the sleeve of your collar.

"Who was that with you?" he demanded.

"Who? What? He was n— I mean, there was no one with me."

"Hey!" He shoved you back against the vending machine.

Your breath hitched.

"I don’t need off-campus losers sneaking in and causing problems for me. I’m on my way to the top, and I don’t have time for trash like that screwing things up. Keep your outside garbage out there."

You scoffed, shoving his hand off of you.

"Shut up. You don’t know anything. It’s dark out. You thought you saw two people? It was just me. Go get your eyes checked."

He pushed your arms to your sides and growled, "Listen, I know what I saw, and by the looks of it, you shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like that anyway."

You stayed silent. "I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Your hair reeks of smoke. And you look like you belong on the street right now," he seethed. You held your breath.

"What’s it matter to you?" you finally spat. "One less person to get in your way of becoming a hero, right?" He didn’t reply. So, you kept talking. "So what? You gonna tell someone? Go ahead. Do it. I don’t care anymore anyway." Your voice cracked. You looked down in shame, muttering the last part under your breath.

He sighed. "You used to be an honors student. Maybe I should tell someone—get you kicked out. Not like it’ll make much of a difference whether you’re here or not. You don’t talk to anyone here anyway,” he muttered the last part.

That was it. That was the last straw. You mustered up the courage and drove your knee into his crotch. His grip on you instantly loosened as he grunted in pain. Wasting no time, you grabbed your bag from the ground and bolted.

You didn’t stop running until you felt you were far enough away. Only then did you glance back—he was gone. When you finally reached your dorm, you collapsed onto your bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

The next few weeks were spent in a state of paranoia. Every time a teacher so much as glanced your way, your heart pounded, fearing they’d pull you aside, take you to the office, and demand to search your bag. You tried to keep a low profile. No more using in the dorms. No more using at all. But it was too difficult. After a month, it became clear—Bakugo wasn’t going to say anything. Even so, you vowed never to bring your friend onto campus again. Instead, you snuck out at night, bought what you needed, and returned immediately.

That was supposed to be the end of it. But then, you started to feel it—eyes on you. Watching. Walking from class to class. At lunch. During breaks.

It was Bakugo.

You avoided eye contact at all costs. If I don’t acknowledge him, he’ll eventually stop. But he didn’t. Instead, it led to painfully awkward encounters—bumping into each other in the hallways, turning a corner only to find him there.

You even spotted him hanging around outside the 1-C dormitories. You brushed it off. It’s just a coincidence. He must know someone here. He just happened to be there at the same time as me. Still, a voice in the back of your mind nagged at you. Why would he care about a failing, drug-using student like me?

One night, for the first time in a while, you decided to sneak out again. Creeping out of your bottom-story dormitory window, you took a quiet walk across the school grounds, heading downtown.

Just as you were about to put your headphones in, you felt one being yanked from your ear.

You jumped, heart pounding—Bakugo.

"Where d'ya think you're going? Academic students have a curfew."

You scoffed. "I could say the same for you, hero course."

You put your headphone back in and kept walking, ignoring him. But he grabbed your bag. Hard. You barely had time to react before the force yanked you backward. He caught you before you hit the ground.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" you snapped, shoving him off.

"You're my problem, junkie."

You scoffed, disgusted. "I'm not a junkie," you muttered under your breath. But then he grabbed your bag again, and this time, everything inside went flying onto the pavement.

Panic set in. You scrambled to pick up your things before he could see—but it was too late. His eyes scanned the scattered items: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, a pipe, multiple baggies—powders, pills, and plants.

His face went cold.

The amusement in harassing you disappeared instantly. "Fuck off already," you spat, stuffing everything back into your bag.

"I didn't realize it was this bad."

You didn’t reply. You just turned and speed-walked away.

He didn’t follow.

And you were relieved.

Months passed. Your grades tanked your 3rd year. Your addiction got worse. Skipping classes became routine—opting instead to get high at your friend’s apartment. "Alright, I'm gonna head out and re-up on that shit you like," he said, shutting the door behind him. You lay sprawled across his bed, sheets messy, clothes and empty beer cans scattered on the floor.

A cigarette dangled from your lips as you practiced blowing smoke rings. Minutes passed.

Then, the door creaked open."Hey, back already? Finally. Let's get this party started," you called out, pushing yourself up.

But as you stepped into the living room, you froze.

Standing there, bloodied and bruised, was Bakugo.

You stared.

So did he. For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, you found your voice. "Whose blood is that?"

Silence.

His fists, still clenched, dripped with blood. His knuckles were torn open. He stepped closer.

"We graduate soon, y'know," he muttered. "Only a few weeks left."

Something about him felt different—more dangerous.

His presence was overwhelming. He had only grown taller, stronger over the past 2 years. Meanwhile, you felt like you had only gotten smaller.

"I'm gonna be a full-fledged hero soon." He let out a dry laugh. "My parents helped me tour condominiums. I have one now too,” he bragged.

Your heart pounded. He was dodging your question. And he was still getting closer.

Your mind raced. I just need to get past him. Run out the door. It'll be fine. "Yeah. That’s cool, Bakugo. Good for you." You forced a nod. "Listen, what are you doing her—"

"That scum you hang around with," he interrupted. "You realize he's corrupting you? And you're too much of an idiot to know any better."

Another step forward.

You moved back, knocking over a lamp. Glass shattered, startling you. "Yeah, he's just a friend I like to hang out with. I was lon—"

"You had me!" Bakugo snapped. Your breath hitched. "You could’ve talked to me."

Your brow furrowed. "What do you mean? You were in class 1-A, and I was in 1-C. I barely saw you."

"I mean as a kid." The words hit like a brick. "You barely made eye contact with me. Always thinking you were better than me. But look at you now." He sneered. "You're desperate for someone to come rescue you."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't need anyone to rescue me, Bakugo. I think you should go."

You backed up again—only to hit the wall.

Nowhere left to go. Bakugo exhaled through his nose, staring down at you. "I’m gonna help you. You’ll sober up. Gain some weight."

Your stomach twisted. "Let’s just make this easy on both of us. Come with me."

For a moment, you were silent. Then, you burst into laughter. It was loud, almost hysterical—whether it was genuine or not, you weren’t sure.

"You find this funny?"

"Yes! I do, actually!" you snapped. "I’m practically an adult! You can’t just take me. I’m not your responsibility. Now move."

You motioned for him to step aside.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed your wrist. Instinct kicked in. "Hey, get the fuck off me—!" In a blink, he flipped you over his back.

Panic surged through you. You kicked, heels slamming into his legs, struggling to break free—But his grip was like iron. And for the first time in your life… You were genuinely terrified. You pounded your fists against his back, kicked your legs, did anything to try and break free. But you were still coming down from a high—your movements sluggish, weak, useless.

Bakugo didn’t waver. His grip was iron, his hold on you unrelenting.

"Don’t worry," he kept muttering under his breath. "I’m gonna get you out of this shithole." When he pushed open the apartment stairway door, you were met with a sight that made your stomach drop.

Your friend—beaten, bruised, and bloody—lay motionless on the ground.

You screamed.

"Let go of me, you psychopath!"

He ignored you. Without hesitation, he dragged you outside and threw you into the trunk of his car. Before you could fight back, your wrists and ankles were bound tightly with zip ties. The trunk slammed shut, sealing you in darkness.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. The drive felt endless. Every bump in the road made your restraints dig deeper into your skin. Your mind raced. Where was he taking you? What was he going to do?

By the time the car finally stopped and the trunk opened, the cold night air rushed over you. As soon as you saw an opening, you lunged, trying to make a break for it.

You didn’t get far. In seconds, he was on you—pinning you to the ground, his weight pressing you into the dirt.

"Calm the fuck down. I’m helping you." You thrashed, screamed for help, but no one came. His palm pressed against your wrists, keeping you restrained as he dragged you inside.

You barely had time to process before you were inside a large condominium—immaculate, modern, and painfully unfamiliar.

Your chest heaved, lungs burning from exertion and panic. "Why are you doing this?" Your voice cracked. "Why do you even care?"

He didn’t answer.

He just threw you to the floor and sliced the zip ties off your wrists with a pocket knife. The moment your hands were free, you lunged at him, fists swinging wildly.

He barely flinched. Within seconds, he had you pinned again, his hand tightening around your throat as he lifted you against the wall. His crimson eyes burned into yours, his grip just shy of suffocating.

"Lose this fucking attitude before I get pissed." Fury boiled inside you. You spit in his face. The instant it landed, you regretted it.

His jaw tensed. Without a word, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you toward a door.

Pain shot through your scalp, but you barely had time to react before you were being dragged down a flight of stairs—into the basement.

It was cold. Damp. The air was heavy with dust and mildew. Your stomach dropped. "Bakugo—" He shoved you against a metal support beam and began tying your wrists together with an extension cord to the beam. The plastic of the cord and cold metal beam bit into your skin. You thrashed, screamed louder—but your throat burned, raw from all the yelling.

No one came. No one was going to. With a final tug, he secured the knot, turned, and walked up the stairs.

The basement door slammed shut. Darkness swallowed you whole. For the first time since this nightmare began, you let yourself cry. Tears rolled down your cheeks, hot and bitter, as you tried to process what had just happened.

How had it come to this? You screamed again—until your throat ached too much to continue. You were thirsty. You were cold. You were alone. Eventually, exhaustion overtook your body, and you passed out.

When you woke, the basement door creaked open. Heavy footsteps echoed down the stairs.

Bakugo.

In his hands, he carried a bucket and a towel. You scrambled back as far as your restraints would allow, pressing yourself against the cold beam. He crouched down, soaking the towel in water before wringing it out. Without a word, he reached forward, pressing it against your face.

You jerked away instantly, turning your head to avoid his touch.

But he was persistent. Every time you moved, he followed. Until, finally, he grabbed your chin—forcing you to look at him. His grip wasn’t as harsh as before, but it was firm.

And for the first time since this all began, he was silent. No threats. No taunts. Just silence. Slowly, he wiped away the sweat and dirt clinging to your skin.

Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of scissors. Your breath hitched. The cold metal grazed your arm, and for a moment, panic surged inside you. You were trembling now, eyes wide, heart hammering— But then, with a single motion, he began cutting your uniform away. Fabric fell in shreds, leaving you in just a bra and underwear. A fresh wave of humiliation crashed over you, your body shaking violently from both the cold and fear. Still, he said nothing.

He continued wiping down your arms, your stomach, your legs—his touch clinical, methodical. Your heartbeat was so loud you swore he could hear it. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. He pulled a clean T-shirt over your body—his, oversized and heavy with the scent of burnt caramel and musk.

Without another word, he tossed the bucket aside. "You can piss and shit in here." The bucket clattered against the floor. Then, he turned to leave.

You hesitated before finally croaking out, "What time is it?" He glanced over his shoulder. And then he walked away. The door slammed shut again. You were left in the dark. Alone.

Again.

Hours passed. The high had faded, leaving you raw. Your body ached, your hands trembled. The first waves of withdrawal crept in—irritability, nausea, a gnawing anxiety that only grew with every second that passed. God, you just wanted a cigarette.

Something. Anything. But there was nothing.

Eventually, exhaustion overtook you once more, and you drifted into an uneasy sleep. When you woke again, sunlight barely crept through a small basement window in the corner. Your mind reeled.

They’ll notice I’m not in class. Someone will report me missing. They’ll find my friend—he’ll tell them what happened. They’ll come for me. They have to.

You held onto that hope, clinging to it like a lifeline. Then, the basement door opened again. Bakugo descended the stairs, carrying a plate of food and a glass of water. He crouched in front of you, set the plate down, then picked up a spoon. He scooped up a bite and motioned it toward your mouth.

You blinked. Then, you laughed. Loud and sharp. "Get that the fuck away from me, you creep. I don’t want th—" Before you could finish your sentence, a spoonful of food was shoved into your mouth.

You gagged, immediately spitting it onto the cold basement floor in defiance. Bakugo’s jaw ticked. Without a word, he scooped up another bite and forced it into your mouth, this time clamping a hand over your lips and pinching your nose shut.

"Swallow, and you get to breathe."

You held out for as long as you could, glaring at him through watery eyes. But the dizziness crept in, black dots dancing in your vision. He wasn’t bluffing. You swallowed. Air rushed into your lungs as he finally let go. "Good."

He kept going, shoving spoonful after spoonful past your lips until the bowl was empty. Your stomach twisted painfully, not used to eating this much after months of skipping meals, but he didn’t care.

Finally, he held the glass of water toward you.

You hesitated. "Drink." This time, you did. Your throat ached from screaming, raw and burning, and the cool water was a welcome relief.

Bakugo watched you the entire time, crimson eyes never wavering. For a while, he just sat there, studying you like you were some puzzle he was trying to solve. You swallowed thickly.

"You know someone's going to realize I'm missing," you finally said, voice hoarse. "They’ll come looking for me. And when they do, say goodbye to your career."

For a moment, he didn’t react. Then, he smiled. A slow, knowing smile. "Yeah? Guess we’ll have to see, huh?" Your stomach dropped. He was too confident. Too calm. You looked away, your earlier bravado suddenly cracking.

"What?" His voice was smug. "Where’d that smart attitude go now?"

You clenched your fists, biting your lip to keep from trembling. The cold of the basement seeped into your bones, the only sound was the distant hum of life continuing without you. You weren’t sure what scared you more—the situation you were in, or the sinking realization that maybe… just maybe… no one was coming to save you.

291 notes · View notes

catsoupki · 30 days ago

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A WARM SHOWER (1.5K)

pairing - katsuki bakugou x reader

synopsis - bakugou spends his off-day at the cemetery until the sky clears.

cw - pro-hero bakugou, side character death, reader has a quirk, female pronouns, hurt/comfort, reuniting

a/n - sorry for disappearing for so long ... :( school has just been an ass but enjoy this ! i'll try to do sth for 420 too !

taglist - @staraxiaa @hatsukeii @cashmoneyyysstuff i miss u guys sm i hope you're doing well

Bakugou’s feet are firmly planted on the moss-covered concrete, he stares at the tiles, worn down by the weather. When he returns to his upright position, there was a brief window of time when the umbrella on his shoulder couldn’t shield him from the rain. His hair whips like sand in the wind, back and forth with force. He looks at the bouquet of flowers he’s laid down, drenched down to the stem, leaves somehow still attached despite everything. Petals of white, pink and yellow stand out like a sore thumb on the muted grave. Sighing, he doesn’t hear his own voice. He lets his mind meander, and, he briefly wonders how sad you are. It’s been raining non-stop for the past three days, grey clouds never letting the sunshine through, not even for a moment.

He looks back at the tombstone, your last name etched onto gravelly stone, an unexplained sense of heaviness seeps into his eyes. He entertains a guilty, fleeting thought— he’s glad your sister is dead. A child shouldn’t die, he knows that more than anyone else, but the selfish part of him, the unheroic side, is glad that you’re alive. It doesn’t matter, not as much, that you aren’t alive with him. But the fact that you’re existing, out there, outside of a coffin, above the ground, doing something mundane, like going to work and washing the dishes, it instils comfort into him like no other.

Sure, he would have rathered that you went to work with him, or that you did the dishes with him, but the fact that you can keeps his feet planted on the mossy earth.

He’s bowed thrice by now, and he should be lighting the candles in front of your sister’s tomb next, but the rain prevents him from doing so, let alone the howling wind, sending trees swaying, threatening to tumble down.

He looks at the picture of your smiling sister, a person he’s met twice, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It’s Wednesday, and it’s his off-day. Why is he spending the time he gets off the clock here servicing you and your sister?

She was a really quiet child, she never screamed or cried, her voice was always soft. Social anxiety had its grip on her from a young age, almost rendering her unfit for public school, but she insisted on going to the same one that you went to. You’d always tell him about the story of her first day in middle school. He had heard that story many times, but he’d listen to you intently as if it were unheard of.

“She gripped onto my dress until she tore a hole through the fabric, it was my favourite one! But she was so scared. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t leave her behind but I was gonna be late to work. I didn’t want her to get bullied for needing her sister to walk her everywhere, so I settled with a deal. I told her that I’d be there first thing when school finished. And I was! I was the first person in line that day, packed like a damn sardine by the parents, I even had to take a half-day off ‘cause school ends so early apparently. But her toothy grin makes it worth it.”

She never made it to her first day of high school, and you stopped talking about that story after she died. Bakugou wishes that he could’ve had more time to spend with your sister, he wishes that he could’ve been around her more, he wishes that he would’ve been known as her uncle.

This longing for something that never was strangles his heart like Tomura had, regret, rue, wishful thinking. He knows that his next day isn’t guaranteed, not when he’s a hero. The people need Him, the nation needs Him, and they outweighed you. A stupid mistake on his part, and if he could rewind time so he’s standing in your studio apartment again, he would have caught your hand and never let go. His quirk isn’t about time, though, instead it’s about leaving destruction in his wake, reducing the things around him to ruins beyond recognition.

He left because he feared for you whenever his name is scorched onto alleyways by villains out for blood, whenever his moniker is used in conjunction with a threat, an ultimatum that if he doesn’t surrender, they’ll find out where his secret lover is and dismember her limb by limb.

He never lets these scum get close to you, your name, or your family. But it was enough for something in him to awaken. Dynamight isn’t known for His trepidatious nature, He was known for always winning; He is victory reincarnated. But Katsuki was too late, the feelings had long been seeded (so the villain did win, after all), it sprouted, took form until the roots ran long and deep into his beliefs. Ugly, green vines wrapped around his spine until he suffocated, until he had to cede his love to you; unwillingly; involuntarily;

In his head, he had begged you to shout at him angrily, to scratch at him with ferocity, and maybe then his own persuasion to leave you behind would have hurt less. It was morning in that studio apartment, a late one, you lounged in sleepwear as he prepared breakfast. You probably noticed his unease but decided he’d come to you eventually. You sat on the couch, crossed legged. Sunlight danced on your face, eyes bright, vehement, under the golden streaks of warmth. He, back then, had stood in the kitchenette, a space obviously not built for him, too large of a torso, too tall a frame. He didn’t care, before, he would’ve bent down until his back ached and soured if it meant cooking for you. He had stood in the shadows, shy of your light.

This conversation never comes easy, but it’s one that is well rehearsed in the confines of your homes, his agency, and over the phone. He always loses, no matter what you say, objective points, arguments, frustration-fuelled statements, he never gets past you when it starts showing on your face. He tried to look away from you, but your stubbornness keeps him losing. He forfeits when your eyebrows begin to scrunch and your lips pout. He loses, every single time.

You thought that this would be no different. Levity evident in your voice as you danced around the topic, but you hadn’t seen what he‘s seen, you hadn’t heard what he’s heard. Echoes of that nobody’s warning haunt his everyday life, when he showers, when he eats, and when he sleeps.

He won, but for the first time, he was upset. You fought back with all that you had, threw arguments at him that were impossible to dismantle, insistence bleeding through your hoarse voice, he was on the brink of defeat. But He wins, Dynamight wins.

He leaves destruction in his wake.

It’s been raining non-stop for the past three days, grey clouds never letting the sunshine through, not even for a moment. He’s dedicated enough of his time here, servicing a debt that’s unending, so he calls it a day. Sighing, he doesn’t hear his own apology in the rain. With an umbrella on his shoulder and regret at his throat, he’s going to walk away.

“Katsu?”

The black umbrella in his grip turns obsolete as sunlight filters through a cleared, blue sky. Warmth inundates him.

He looks at the discarded bouquet of flowers on the moss-covered tiles, petals of white, pink and yellow standing out like a sore thumb in a sea of muted colours.

He sees you, the edges of your body smudging in the sunlight, blurred floral patterns on your dress, is he crying?

He doesn’t speak, suppressed by the fear that wraps around him like a noose, maybe his voice would scare the ghost of you away.

Your shoes click against the slippery, moist floor. He wants to tell you be careful, don’t get hurt. Thuds ring in the cemetery, trees still dancing as a slight wind blows. You look bright, vehement, in the streaks of golden light. It took you ten seconds, longer than a century, to reach Bakugou. He closes his eyes. It hurts. It hurts. The world is cruel for playing this joke on him. Regret, rue, wishful thinking. With trembling hands, you reach for his skin, tickling the scars that tell a story bigger than you and him. The wrinkle between his brow settles, “you’re here.”

He says, more so to convince himself, “you’re here.” to will itself into reality. The rain that had poured down on him like salvation is replaced by the intangible sunlight that washes over him like penance. He chases after atonement blindly, wildly, perhaps as a form of Sisyphean punishment for the hurt he had dared slain on you. It doesn’t matter, you’d say, because you’re here, now. You exist, beyond tree roots and above grass, in his arms. With your lips on his and your fingers on him, you're here now, bathing in sunlight, shy of rain. You’re vehement in his grasp.

thank you for reading ! i hope you enjoyed it, all interactions appreciated, have a wonderful day <3

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