Mha X Reader - Blog Posts

upgrade pt.2

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — most of izu's arm has been amputated, hurt comfort, swearing, 6.7k words

pt.1, pt.3, epilogue

feat. todoroki shoto + bakugou katsuki

It’s 8am and you’re in the elevator riding up to level 3. You’ve taken the next week off to see your pookie. And you’re anxious to see him, but not yet. There’s someone you need to speak to first. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You walk down the white linoleum corridor, eyes peeled for that tall, lanky doctor. There! He has his back to you, speaking with a nurse outside of the recovery room.

You come up behind him, keeping a respectful distance of course, and wait patiently. The nurse acknowledges you with a nod. Once she leaves, Dr Kita turns around and gives you a lazy smile.

“What can I do for you, Miss [l/n]?” You notice how dark his under-eyes are and wonder if he’s been here all night. Wouldn’t be much different to you, for you’ve been up the whole night drawing up plans that you’re about the show him, if he gives you the time of day.

“I’ve been thinking about Midoriya’s surgery and I wanted to know what kind of prosthetic you were going to give him.”

He raises a thick, black eyebrow, “I don’t choose, Miss [l/n]. Mr Midoriya will choose his prosthetic from a list of accredited providers.” You gulp. Okay, not exactly where you were hoping this conversation would head. Your palms begin to get sweaty. You open and close them, hoping to loosen up some of your nerves over what you’re going to ask.

“Miss [l/n].” Your heart pounds. You can hear it thumping. The blood rushing. “Mhmm.”

“I’m rather busy, so please, just ask me what you want to ask.” He stares at you shrewdly over the rim of his metal frames.

“Okay, so, I’m a biomedical engineer and I was thinking that because Izuku’s amputation was open, then I could build him a cybernetic arm and we could attach it surgically.”

He sighs, “Miss [l/n].”

Fuck. He thinks this is really weird, doesn’t he? “Cybernetic arms work by—”

“I know how cybernetic arms work.” His mouth is pressed into a hard line as he stares you down.

“Izuku is Japan’s Number One hero. Give this man a regular bionic arm and he could never be that again. Look at all the heroes that lost their limbs in the Final War. Replace what’s missing of his left arm with a cybernetic arm and he could continue his hero work. Maybe not as number one anymore, but he could still make a difference in society as a hero.”

Dr Kita just looks at you and you stare right back. This isn’t the first time a man has looked down on you and your ideas as an engineer because you’re a woman. You know that you just have to stick it out. Be confident in your argument, your design, and keep pushing until he relents and takes you seriously.

Just when it looks like he’s about to tell you to get lost, he surprises you with, “Can you build a robot?”

He doesn’t mean it sarcastically. He means it genuinely. Fair question. Most of your colleagues can’t. “Of course I can build a robot. I did mechanical before specialising in biomed.”

“Have you ever built a prosthetic arm before?” He’s got a half-smile on his face, perfect teeth barely visible.

You have to look away momentarily from that intense gaze, “I’ve built a robotic arm before. I built Izu’s current hero suit. And, I know how One For All works. How hard can it be?”

Dr Kita sighs again and looks down at his clip board. It’s quiet for a few moments before he speaks again, “I assume you’ve got the designs.” You automatically reach for your bag on your shoulder, pulling it down and grabbing out your folded and coffee-stained designs. You begin opening them up to show him when he places his slender finger on the folded edge.

“I finish in thirty. You’ll be in Mr Midoriya’s room, I assume. I’ll come over and you can show me then.” You nod in response and smile.

“Thanks, doctor.”

You bow and turn to leave, but he adds, “Run it by him first, yea?” You hum in agreement before returning to the elevator and taking it up to level 5, where Izuku’s been moved to for his stay at the hospital.

You knock on his door (as they’ve given him a room to himself) and let yourself in once you hear his permission. He’s sitting upright, stocking and drainage tubes on his left, cannula on his right. The sunlight kisses his pale skin, illuminating his freckles and bringing out those flecks in his dark green hair and eyes. He smiles once he sees you, inviting you to come over to him. You pull out the bento box you made for him this morning, setting it on the table next to his bed before you grab a chair and sit at his side.

“I missed you. How have you been holding up?” You place your hand just above his knee that’s covered by the thin blankets. He gives you a small smile. You can see how the skin around his eyes are puffy and red. Not well, you take it. “I brought you some of the curry I made. Do you want some?” He hums softly.

You grab the travel case from your bag, whipping out a pair of wooden chopsticks and a rice spoon. You place the bento on your lap. It’s still warm from the fresh rice you placed in it before leaving for the station. You open the lid, slipping it beneath the box. “Mhmm, it smells good, honey.”

“I got you some curry,” you say, pointing to the little compartment with the curry, “some rice, pickled onions, strawberries, and some hard-boiled eggs.” You grab one of the egg-halves with the chopsticks and bring it to Izuku’s mouth.

“Honey, I can feed myself,” he says quietly.

“Shhhh, here comes the aeroplane.” You begin winding and swerving the egg through air. Izuku chuckles and lets you feed it to him. He smiles warmly as he chews on the egg.

“Mhmm yummy. You want another one?” You’re already grabbing another egg. He stares lovingly at you and let’s you feed him this one too. Actually, you end up feeding him the curry and rice too as you don’t want them to get cold before he’s tried any.

You place the bento back on the table and look down. Sensing your sudden nervousness, Izuku rests his right hand on top of yours, on his thigh. It’s scarred from years of pro hero training and work, warm, and large, enveloping your own baby hands. He smiles gently at you, silently urging you to tell him what’s on your mind.

You let out a shaky breath. “Izu-chan…” He gazes back at you with those puppy eyes, humming at the sound of his name from your lips.

You look down, focusing on the back of his hand. “I want to replace most of your left arm with a cybernetic one.”

You trace the scars on his hand. The peaks soft beneath your fingertips. You can feel hardness of the tendons just beneath the delicate skin. “So, I’ll be like… part robot?”

You look back up, seeing the confused look on his face, “Um, yea, pretty much. I’ve already spoken to Dr Kita about it. He’ll be coming in shortly and we’ll go through the designs I’ve drawn.”

“You already drew designs. Don’t those take hours hours, love? Don’t tell me you stayed up all night.” You bite the side of your lip before laughing a bit, more to yourself.

“I thought you could tell now when I’ve pulled an all-nighter, pookie.”

Izu moves what’s left of his left arm, groaning in pain once again. You’re immediately on alert, leaning over him. “You okay?”

“Yea, I just keep forgetting… about that.” You sit back down, grabbing his right hand with both of yours. You smile at him reassuringly, seeing that sheepish look on his face. A comfortable silence hangs in the air for the next couple of minutes. You both thinking over what’s just been said.

You start to think that he doesn’t like your idea when he pipes up, “Okay, I trust you, honey.”

You’re literally gob-smacked, jaw open wide, eyes even wider. “What? You mean,” you fumble your next words as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “You mean, you’ll actually let me build you an arm? And like, attach it you? Like, ‘you can’t easily get rid of it’ attach it to you? Seriously?”

He chuckles at your rambling. “Of course I will. You know a lot more about this kinda thing than I do, sweetheart. If you think it’s for the best, then I trust you. But…”

You’re on the edge of your seat, anxious for that objection. “But?”

“I’ll be able to be hero again, right? With a robotic arm, I mean.” He looks at you curiously, hand squeezing yours again.

You sigh, “Izu-chan, you are a hero. Even with a robotic arm, you’ll still be a hero.” He nods, hand leaving yours to rub the back of his neck. “Thanks hon—” You’ve already leaned over him again, and this time, you cut him off mid-sentence with a brief kiss.

Well, it was supposed to be, but it became much deeper once he cups your right cheek, angling your head just right for him to slide his tongue over your bottom lip. You moan into him, granting him access. Your hands come to the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at the stray curls. Tongues swirl in a flurry of longing and ecstasy. How long had it been since you two kissed? Like, kissed.

You’re already straddling him. Saliva beginning to drip down from the corners of your mouth. Izuku groans as you tug harder at his curls, his large hand slipping to hold the back of your neck, beneath the curtain of loose [h/c] locks.

The sound of throat-clearing catches your attention. You’re pulling away from each other instinctually. The culprit stands at the door, long fingers still wrapped around the door knob.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You quickly get off of Izuku, sitting back in your chair at his bedside. You fiddle with your hair and wipe the saliva from your lips. Dr Kita sets a second chair next to yours. You shuffle so that you can easily look at him and Izuku.

You notice Izuku’s cheeks have gone red, as well as the tops of his ears and his chest. You giggle, realising how embarrassed he must be. You’re pretty embarrassed too, but it’s to be expected. You’re both pretty touch starved after being separated for a month.

“So, where are these designs you wanted to show me?” Dr Kita begins, seated, calm and poised as ever. You grab your bag which lies against the hospital bed, pulling out your designs and laying them on top of Izuku’s legs.

You begin explaining them to Dr Kita, not holding back as you get into the nitty gritty of what materials you’re intending to use, estimated costs, mechanics, electrode implantation, as well as having transformative features if you’ve got time like a cannon or rifle. You pause a few times to look back at Izuku. His blush goes down fairly quickly and, he just nods as you speak. He’s probably got no clue what you’re on about.

“And how are you going to test this arm?” Dr Kita asks. You look at Izuku, the same train of thought passing through you. He nods gently, urging you to continue on.

You take a deep breath in, “You do know about my quirk, don’t you?”

And now it’s your turn to raise your eyebrow at Dr Kita. He just stares back at you, seeming mildly perplexed. “Am I supposed to?”

You chuckle, “You seriously don’t know? The media couldn’t shut up about it when they found out.” You look back at Izuku and he’s just staring at you with that content expression on his face again. You turn back to the tired doctor beside you.

“My quirk is called ‘quirk stealer’ but it’s more like ‘quirk borrower’. But that doesn’t sound very cool, does it? My quirk allows me to ‘steal’ the quirk of others for up to 24 hours at a time by kissing them. I intend to steal Izuku’s quirk, One For All, for a day so I can test how the arm holds up against his quirk and make any necessary adjustments.”

Dr Kita just stares at you disbelief. His mouth hangs slightly open, browheads sloping upwards. It takes him a few moments before he chuckles. He shakes his head as he does so, sunlight catching on loose black strands slipping from his low bun.

“Of course you do.” He re-adjusts, crossing one slim leg over the other. “Fine. Your design sounds good. Plan is thorough enough. Your only issue is that we can only keep his wound—” His boney finger points to what’s left of Izuku’s left arm, “open for a week, maximum. You’ll be, well not you, Mr Midoriya will be very lucky if his wound hasn’t become infected by the time you’ve finished construction and final testing of the arm.”

Your brows furrow at this. It was something you’ve considered but had avoided thinking about. You lean forwards slightly towards Dr Kita, saying in a low voice, “Realistically, how long do you think I have before infection sets in?”

“It all depends really.” Dr Kita pushes his glasses up, from resting on the bump of his nose to the space just before that. He looks over at Izuku, studying him carefully. “Some patients’ wounds become infected within hours. For others, it takes days.” His gaze flickers back over to you. “You’ll want to get him back in theatre and attach the arm as soon as possible.”

You nod. “Umm,” Izuku starts, his voice is quiet and hesitant, “just to clarify, honey, you’re not attaching it, are you?”

You tilt your head to the side, pouting, you say in a serious and saddened tone, “I thought you trusted me.” Your boyfriend shakes his head as he says, “I do—”

“I’m kidding. Of course I’m not?” That wasn’t supposed to be a question, but it turns into one as you look back to Dr Kita and he nods.

“You think I’d just let you operate without any qualifications or training? I hope you know what you’ll find beneath that dressing.” You laughing nervously, unable to tell if Dr Kita is joking or if he’ll actually make you operate on Izuku.

“Of course I do.”

Dr Kita agrees to speak to one of the orthopaedic surgeons to arrange Izuku’s prosthetic attachment, clearing up that you in fact WILL NOT be performing surgery on your boyfriend (as you shouldn’t be). You both thank him profusely and soon, it’s just the two of you again.

You two settle into a comfortable conversation, talking about everything that’s happened over the past month. You find out that it wasn’t until last week that Shoto and Ingenium had been brought onto the mission because of how close they were getting to the organisation orchestrating the sale of young women for quirk breeding.

“I still can’t believe that that still exists in this day and age.” You’re utterly discussed by this and it’s apparent in your voice. Izuku nods in agreement.

He continues on, telling you how he’s been rooming with Dynamight in this abandoned apartment overlooking a series of night clubs since the mission started. It’s been filled with lots of teasing and arguing. Getting older, going off on their own, Midoriya and Bakugou’s relationship isn’t as… explosive (like what I did there?) as it was at UA. Being high-ranking pro heroes now, the competition between them is friendlier. Not friendly. But, friendlier. There was a healthy rivalry between them now.

“If I’m being honest though,” Izuku lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned closer to you, “I’m glad that it’ll be back to the two of us from now on.”

“WHAT WAS THAT DIPSHIT?!”

You turn in shock as Dynamight bursts into the room, door slamming into the wall, hinges shaking. He’s in a hospital gown, bandaged arms peaking out.

“Kacchan!” Izuku says, surprised by his visit. You were surprised that Dynamight could still hear Izuku despite how loud his explosions are. You thought he would have hearing aids by now. Or does he? Fuck, his spiky ass hair is in the way so you can’t see clearly.

“The fuck happened to you?” Bakugou questions, stopping right next to you and pointing at where Izuku’s left arm should have been.

Okay, you’re not having that. “Hey!” You stand up, puffing up your chest and getting in the ash blond’s face. Not that you can cause he literally towers over you, but you get an A for effort girlie. “None of this would of happened if you weren’t such a hothead!”

Fun fact, you’ve actually met Bakugou. You met him last year at the annual pro hero conference afterparty. It was brief, but you already knew from Izuku’s stories that this man was quite… rough. Your meeting then only confirmed such beliefs when he was shouting at Izuku for having a girlfriend and not bringing her around to meet his friends sooner.

“OI, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO, PIPSQUEAK?!” He yells in back in your face. His breath is hot as it hits your face.

“YOU FUCKFACE! You’re the reason my boyfriend lost his arm.” Your fingertips jab his chest. Holy fuck he’s hard. This man is built like a fridge.

“Tch. YOUR BOYFRIEND IS THE REASON HE LOST HIS ARM! IT’S NOT MY FAULT HE CAN’T EVEN CONTROL HIS QUIRK.” Bakugou’s hands grab your upper shoulders, gripping them tight. They’re sweaty and stick to your baggy graphic tee.

“HEY! GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME before you start going off.” Your fingers grasp his wrists. They’re hotter than you’ve ever felt before. You can feel his pulse beating.

“Kacchan, that’s enough,” Izuku says like a primary school teacher scolding a child.

“I’LL DECIDE WHEN IT’S ENOUGH!” Bakugou’s fingers squeeze into the flesh of your biceps. You yelp reflexively.

“Kacchan!”

“ALRIGHT ALRIGHT.” He releases you from his grasp. Now leaning close to you, almost touching, to point at Izuku.

But before he can get a word out, Izuku tells him off, “Can you at least apologise for hurting my girlfriend?”

“FINE.” Bakugou looks down you, not moving an inch. “I’m sorry, okay?” You just nod, leaning slightly backwards to keep you two from touching. This man really has no hold on personal space, does he?

Bakugou energetically points at Izuku, yelling “LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE DEKU! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO BE A HERO NOW?! Tch. And I thought you were my equal. I WOULD NEVER GO N’ GET MY ARM CUT OFF LIKE THAT!”

You end sitting back down once Bakugou leaned even further in. This isn’t really any better though. His hips are very close to your face so, you’ve settled for just turning away from him to look at Izuku. And broccoli boy just takes it. He doesn’t try to stop Bakugou from having his little tantrum. It’s probably better this way anyways. Bakugou can just get it off his chest and be done with it.

I guess he made a good choice for his hero name though, ‘Dynamight’, cause this guy really explodes. Sorry. That could of been sexual if I made it sexual. I meant his anger. Anyways…

After a while, Bakugou just stops hurling insult after insult. He finally huffs and sits down on Izuku’s bed.

“You’re such a dumbfuck, you know that?”

Izuku chuckles, “Yes, I know.”

“WHOSE GONNA BE MY COMPETITION NOW, HUH? WHAT? WHAT ICYHOT? IS THAT BASTARD REALLY GONNA BE MY RIVAL NOW?” Don’t tell me he’s gonna go at it again, you think. He really is just angry, like, limitlessly angry, isn’t he?

“Kacchan, you should keep your voice down. Shoto might—”

“YOU THINK I GIVE A FUCK IF THAT HALF N’ HALF BRAT HEARS ME—”

“I care, Kacchan,” Izuku sighs. He looks tired. Really tired.

You gently touch Bakugou on the arm. He looks at you with hostility as if you’ve just committed an offence.

“Bakugou, Izuku’s exhausted after everything that’s happened last night. Why don’t we give him some space so he can rest?”

The blond scoffs and shrugs you off, “Tch. As if. YOU.” He points at Izuku again as he stands up. “YOU BETTER FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT. I’M NOT LOSING MY NUMBER ONE RIVAL SO YOU BETTER GROW ANOTHER ARM OR SOMETHIN’!” He grabs you by the elbow, dragging you out of the room. You wave back at Izuku before sticking your thumb up and smiling, letting him know that it’s going to be okay and he can just rest. Izuku nods at this.

Bakugou doesn’t just take you out of the room, but continues to ‘guide’ you by the elbow, taking you down the hallway with him. You turn a corner and a café comes into view.

“Um, Bakugou, where are we going?”

“Tch. Are you actually that dumb?” He drags you into the café and you just let him. You considered fighting back, at least just for your elbow, but it didn’t seem very promising given the ripples of muscles that are exaggerated by the bandages around his arms. He’s leading you to a table at the back where you see a head of half red and half white hair. OMG! IS THAT SHOTO?!

Of course, you were Izuku’s number one fan, but before meeting Izuku, you were actually a huge Shoto fan. Not that you didn’t like Izuku, but the half and half boy had caught your attention. You didn’t have a shrine dedicated to Shoto like Izuku has to All Might, but you would always stay up-to-date with his interviews, any new missions he’s on or news buzz he was involved in. He was quite popular back in your home country so it wasn’t too hard to find translations of media he was in. Actually, watching his interviews in Japanese had been revolutionary when you first started learning the language.

And now, you were about to meet him.

“Wait!!”You stopped suddenly, a few steps from the table, causing Bakugou to stumble-stop with you.

“WHAT?!” He turned back to you, frowning hard. He’s gonna get some seriously deep wrinkles if he keeps making such expressions, you think.

You say, “I’m nervous, okay? Are we really going to go sit with Shoto?”

He barked out a laugh. “OF COURSE NOT. WOW, YOU REALLY ARE DUMB. I don’t know how Deku puts up with you.”

“Hey! That’s just mean,” you pout at him.

He scoffs, “I’M ‘JUST MEAN’! GET OVER IT!” Bakugou’s face lowers down to yours just to yell at it. People were starting to stare. You could feel your cheeks beginning to flare up.

“Bakugou,” you say as you put your hand on the arm that was still holding onto your elbow. This draws another look of absolute offence and disgust from the blond. “People are staring.”

“Tch. OF COURSE THEY ARE. I’M DYNAMIGHT.”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s why—” He continues on, dragging you over to the table Shoto’s seated at. He shifts to make room on booth seat, seeing you two coming over. Bakugou throws you down onto the booth side of the table. You fall onto Shoto clumsily, repeating how sorry you are as you push up from him.

He grasps your forearms, helping you sit upright, muttering, “It’s fine.”

Your [e/c] eyes meet his heterochromatic ones and for a moment, you forget to breathe. Wow… he’s so pretty. Those long lashes, clear skin, full lips. Even his scar is perfect. You notice the bandages wrapped around his head like a zumba headband. They loop through his dual-coloured locks. They look so soft from this angle. You giggle nervously once he draws his hands — one hot, the other icy — back to himself.

Your admiration of the hero is interrupted by the ear-scrapping sound of Bakugou pulling out the chair opposite and sitting in it unceremoniously. None of you speak for the next few minutes, and you notice that in this time, most of the onlookers return to what they’re doing.

“So…” You start, tapping your fingers on your clothed thighs.

“Deku told me you were ‘n engineer or somethin’. You’re gonna fix his arm, right?” Bakugou’s red eyes pierce through you with their intensity.

“What’s wrong with Izuku’s arm?” Shoto’s voice is so smooth. Honestly. It’s even nicer than in all of the interviews you’ve seen. You stutter on your inhale, hearing him speak. It’s low and fairly quiet, but confident at the same time.

“Tch. That bastard—”

“Oi,” you cut in, “that ‘bastard’ is my boyfriend. You better con—”

“Deku,” Bakugou glares at you, “got his arm ripped off.”

You sigh, turning slightly to Shoto. Oh my gosh! You’re heartbeat is pumping like you run up a flight of stairs. Are you about to talk to your favourite hero? Ahem, your second favourite hero.

You defend your boyfriend with, “Izu-chan didn’t ‘get his arm ripped off’. The surgeon amputated most of it as the damage was beyond his healing capabilities.”

“Oh.” Shoto looked down momentarily.

“Tch. What a baby. IF THAT WAS ME—”

“I KNOW BAKUGOU! Oh my god I know, we all know. You’re the fucking best hero ever. You would never let anything stop you or hurt you or whatever. We know, okay? Can you please give it a rest?” Your brows are knit together as you glare at him. He glares back.

“Tch.” Bakugou leaned back in his seat, looking off to the side now, face in a scowl.

The table fell into silence again. You didn’t mean to go off at him, and now you must look really bad in front of Shoto. Fuck. You only had one chance and you blew it. You probably can’t even ask for his autograph anymore. Jeez, this is embarrassing. But you were feeling really stressed out by Bakugou and his attitude toward this whole thing. You’re pretty sure that if Izuku were here, that he would tell you that this is just how Bakugou is dealing with his emotions. But seriously like, does he ever shut the fu—

“You didn’t answer my question. Are you gonna fix ‘is arm or not?” Bakugou addresses you with less aggression this time. At least he’s trying. That’s really nice of him.

“Y-yea,” you mutter, looking down at your hands. It takes a few moments for you gather up some confidence, but when you do, you look back up at him, meeting his fiery gaze. “I’m going to build him a cybernetic arm which we’re going to surgically attach to his wound.”

“The fuck is ‘cyber… cyb… cyb’ fuck I DON’T KNOW. WHAT IS IT?”

“Cybernetic?” You raise your eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. “Yea, hurry up n’ spit it out already.” He’s glaring you down softly this time.

“Cybernetic is the same as bionic or prosthetic. Basically, I’m going to build him a robotic arm and replace what’s missing of his left arm with it.”

“So,” Shoto says, “Midoriya-kun will be part robot?”

You notice how perfect his posture is, how stoic the expression is on his face. Amazing… You nod, “That’s the plan. We don’t have much time, so I need to build and test it as soon as possible.”

“Then get the fuck out ‘ere. Seriously,” he’s leaning over the table now, “go build that shit.”

“Baku—”

“YOU HEARD ME! I’M NOT HAVING THIS—” Bakugou points vigorously to Shoto, “AS MY SOLE COMPETITION. YOU BETTER FIX HIM! ROBOT, NOT ROBOT, I DON’T CARE.” He’s standing at this point, palms on the table, leaning over mockingly to Shoto. “YOU AIN’T SHIT COMPARED TO ME ICYHOT!” Shoto turns to you, unfazed by Bakugou’s outburst.

“Please excuse Bakugou’s behaviour. He’s upset over Midoriya-kun’s inju—”

“I’M NOT UPSET! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!” Bakugou’s hands begin to spark on the table, leaving scorch marks in their midst. He quickly wipes his palms on his hospital gown, muttering about how he’s going to have to pay for that.

You sigh, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I need to get back to my place and start now. Thanks Bakugou.”

You stand up, ready to leave when Shoto catches you off guard. “We should at least get you a coffee then. I assume you’ll have a long night ahead of you?”

Oh my gosh! Is THE pro hero ‘Shoto’ offering to buy me, ME, a coffee? Oh my gosh! Yes! Yes sir!

You laugh nervously, trying to play it cool but you obviously fail, “O-oh, um, yea, okay, yea, that sounds good. Yea…” You meet his gaze. It’s soft. You might actually pass out from how excited you are right now.

“Tch. FINE. I’m not paying though.” Bakugou crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg. Shoto dismisses the blond’s lack of enthusiasm with a wave of his hand.

“I’ll pay.”

“Really?! Like, you-you’ll actually pay for my coffee?!” Fuck. That sounded so fangirl-y didn’t it? Shit. He’s gonna know.

“Of course," Shoto replies. He places his credit card on the circular table. Where did he get that from? “What would you like?”

You think for a moment. Maybe he brought his wallet. That makes sense. From what you’ve seen of Bakugou’s behaviour, he didn’t seem to be the type to pay for the date. Not this was a date. Concerning the coffee, you usually get a double shot oat milk cappuccino but you know that the answer that won’t make you seem like even more of a weirdo is probably an iced coffee.

“Um, I haven’t seen the menu.” A safe choice.

Shoto chuckles at this, shaking his head slightly. “Of course, sorry.” He rises from his spot on the booth and you notice that SOMEHOW he’s even taller than Bakugou. Oh… so is this why Bakugou’s so mad? Height is pretty sensitive subject for men, right? He’s also in a hospital gown with a few bandages wrapped around his arms at different sites. He motions for you to start walking and so you do. He follows you as you walk over to the counter.

You notice that they have oat milk and cappuccinos on the menu. What you don’t notice is that Bakugou ended up following you two over to the counter and was standing just behind you, off to your side, watching you intensely. His sudden “tch” alerts you to his presence.

“One large cappuccino with oat milk. And one egg salad sandwich. And a three of the ichigo daifuku. You want anythin’ else?” Bakugou looks down at you.

You lean up, whispering close to his ear, “Can you make it a double shot?”

“Make that a double shot for the cap. OI! ICYHOT, what do you want?”

Shoto’s heterochromatic eyes widen for a moment before he chuckles softly. “I’ll have an iced coffee. Medium please.” He looks back at the explosive blond who clicks his tongue.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, telling the server, “Two iced coffees. Both Medium.”

Bakugou ends up paying for your order and shooing you and Shoto back to your seats while he waits for it to be ready. You laugh and Shoto smiles lightly, seeing your good mood.

“What is it?” He asks, looking at you curiously.

You giggle, “He’s such a softie, huh?” You playfully elbow Shoto’s side. His brows furrow slightly, revealing his confusion.

“Bakugou?” He questions. You nod in agreement, still smiling stupidly.

“He’s all—” you puff up your chest and curl your arms like a tough guy, “rawr I’m Dynamight I’m so tough when really, he’s quite caring, isn’t he?”

Shoto nods slowly, “Sometimes.”

You two stay quiet for a minute or two before Shoto says, “Midoriya-kun talks a lot about you.” You look back at him like he just grew a second head.

“Really?” I mean, it made sense. You two had been together for about three years now.

Shoto nods, “He could talk about you for hours. He could barely contain himself during the mission.”

You giggle, “You make it sound like he loves me as much as All Might.” At this, Shoto gives you a small smile.

“Maybe he does.”

“Ahh don’t start putting ideas in my head or I won’t be able to concentrate.” You dramatically place the back of your hand on your forehead, sighing in feigned distress.

“My apologies…” He regains this neutral-curious look on his face. “I hope you don’t mind but, he told me that you were a big fan of mine.”

Oh fuck. Okay, it’s not funny anymore. “He what?” You stare wide-eyed at Shoto. He meets your gaze with a slight smirk. “You knew? Like, this entire time, you knew?” He offers you another nod. You let out a sigh, seeing Bakugou returning with your coffee and food. “That’s so embarrassing,” you groan.

“Why?” Shoto tilts his head at this.

You whine, “Because, I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you. Did he tell you that I’ve seen ALL of your interviews? Like, every single one? Even when you were still at UA?”

Bakugou places the coffee tray on the table before setting the sandwich and daifuku in front of you. He distributes drinks. You have to admit, yours looks so good! The foam is so fluffy, just the way you like it.

“Thank you, Bakugouuuuuu.” You draw out the last syllable of his name. You take a sip, moaning softly at how yummy your coffee tasted. The two heroes just stare at you. One slightly embarrassed and the other pleased.

“Yea, I know right. The barista here makes a mean as fuck coffee,” Bakugou says through his smirk.

“Mhmm, this is so good! They don’t disappoint.” Bakugou watches you as he sips on his own coffee, a shit eating grin on his face. Provider Bakugou unlocked?

You look down at the food in front of you, tearing the paper bag that the daifuku came in into three pieces. As you put one of the snacks on each piece, you say, “Yea, I’m like seriously a huge fan. I have a lot of your merch too. BUT, my number one hero is Izuku. You’re my number two hero.” You wink at Shoto as you slide the daifuku over to him.

Bakugou chokes on his sip. He starts coughing furiously. On instinct, you stand up and are about to go to his side and pat his back when he holds up his hand.

“I cough I-I’m cough fine cough.” You sit back down, watching him ride out the wave that is his coughing fit. Seeing him coming to the end of it.

You ask, “You okay?”

“LOOK AT ME! OF COURSE I’M FINE.” Shoto laughs, watching Bakugou trying to shake off the blush of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.

“Are you surprised that I’m her second favourite and your not?” Shoto says in his usual monotone. Was Shoto provoking Bakugou? You never thought the day would come when you would see this holy sight.

“OI! DON’T START SOME SHIT YOU CAN’T FINISH YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD!!” You start laughing hard as you slide Bakugou’s daifuku over to him. “OI! WHAT’S SO FUNNY?” You start laughing even harder, leaning back in your seat, arms wrapping around your belly.

“Y-you are,” you laugh out. Your tummy begins to hurt, tears of joy gathering in your eyes. You watch through glassy eyes as Bakugou shoves the dessert whole in his mouth angrily.

“Oi. Shut it.” But it sounds more like “Shuf ip” as he speaks while chewing.

You salute, giggling, “Yes sir.” At this, Bakugou rolls his eyes.

You have a moment of clarity. Or delusion, you decide. Actually, he’s quite handsome too. You couldn’t really see it before because of his rather… energetic personality. But, there’s something quite attractive about the sharpness of his features. You can see why so many of your friends like him so much.

“I’M WAY BETTER THAN THIS FUCKWIT—”

“Hey! there could be kids around—”

“I should be your second favourite instead.” Bakugou crosses his arms again, with one large hand enveloping at least half of his drink.

You shake your head, giggling again, “Oh yea.” You meet his gaze. “Prove it.”

Shoto looks with wide eyes between you two.

“PROVE WHAT?” Bakugou’s leaning forward and so do you.

“Prove that you’re a way better hero than Shoto.” He barks out his laughter once again in your face, it’s sharp and short.

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY TRACK RECORD? Tch. AS IF I HAVE TO PROVE ANYTHING TO YOU, PIPSQUEAK.” He rolls his eyes, leaning back and sipping his coffee down inhumanly fast.

“You right? You’ll get a tummy ache if you drink it that fast," you say. You look down at his quickly emptying drink before looking back up into his red eyes. He stops sipping, only ice left.

“SHUT UP.”

You decide now that you’ll stop riling him up. Dynamight is a pretty cool hero. And to be honest, you do wear his merch because Izuku owns a significant amount of it. Being a pro hero, Izuku usually got discounts or free merch from other heroes. Being his girlfriend, he usually got you any merch you wanted. You feel kinda bad for pissing Bakugou off after he’s been so nice to you. Well, as nice as Bakugou gets for a someone he’s just met (the first time doesn’t really count as it was so brief).

“I’m sorry for suggesting that you’re not a cool hero, Dynamight. You are a cool hero and I’ll tell Izuku how nice you’ve been to me,” You say with a grin. But this seems to have the opposite intended effect of soothing the tension.

“SHUT UP YOU DUMMY!” He looks away from you, getting up abruptly to throw his cup in the bin. He takes the torn pieces of the paper bag with him as you pop the daifuku into your mouth. Mhmmm, it’s so yummy too! The fresh strawberry is so sweet!

“He’s flattered,” Shoto chimes in.

You look at him confused and ask, “Are you sure?”

He nods before asking, “Do you really own my merch? That must make Midoriya-kun uncomfortable.”

“Hmm,” you think about it for a few seconds, hearing Bakugou scrape his chair against the floor again. “Not really, I mean, have you seen how much All Might merch he owns?” You raise your brows in exaggeration.

Giggling, you add, “I should be uncomfortable.” Shoto just looks at you, wating for you to continue while Bakugou begins picking at the chips of the table.

“We actually talked about it when we started dating. Izu-chan knows that I’m your fan. I’m not like in love with you or something, you know? I like what you stand for, I think you’re pretty attractive, and I admire how hard you work in your career. I do wear your merch a lot though. That makes Izu-chan jealous sometimes.” You ramble on mindlessly.

Shoto looks down, “O-oh.”

It’s true. You couldn’t fathom the idea of being in love with a man you’ve never met, like you know some girls are with the respective objects of their affection. I say object because what they’re in love with is a commodity, an image, not a person. That would be super awkward if you were infatuated with Shoto. Especially since Izuku and Shoto work together sometimes.

“Stop talking and eat your sandwich.” Bakugou points to the untouched egg salad sandwich on the table. He’s right, if you’re gonna be up all night building a cybernetic arm, you had better eat up.

“Thanks Bakugou!” You squeal. He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t thank me, just hurry up and eat before I make you.” His voice was gruff as he stared hard at you. You giggle one last time before unwrapping the sandwich and taking a bite.

This place has seriously good food.

upgrade pt.1

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — most of izu's arm has been amputated, hurt comfort, swearing, 4k words, resources used linked at the end, non-mha characters are made-up

pt.2, pt.3, epilogue

You were stirring tofu curry in your kitchen. It’s delicious scent curling up your nostrils, tendrils seeking your body and your home. The television was playing in the back. Sliced spring onions freshly chopped on the wooden chopping board next to the stove. You were humming softly to yourself your favourite song.

Today was the day that your pookie bear, Izuku, was coming back from his month long mission. It had been a gruelling four weeks of rushed phone calls.

Quick “How’s your day been? and even quicker “I love you’s”. You missed his nerdy talk about all the latest heroes new moves and how much he still admires All Might, his cuddles and warm hands on your tummy when it was that time of the month.

You missed how he would always try to pick you up from work, clad in a face mask and Dynamight’s new merch. You missed making dinner together. You missed waking up together whenever you two slept together (cause separate beds in relationships is superior convince me otherwise).

He had been on an undercover mission to bring an underground quirk breeding organisation to justice. The fact that those still existed sent shivers down your spine. One time, you had asked him over call what it was like, being so close to all of that.

To which he dodged with, “It’s what heroes are expected to deal with, so don’t worry about it honey.” You probably shouldn’t have asked as all mission information is classified until the news gets their grimy hands on it. But, it still had taken you back that he didn’t want to talk about it.

But, you know that when he gets home, he’ll be tired but he’ll want to talk. And you’ll sit there, looking up to him, reminded of how strong he is and of how hard he works to protect you, to protect all of Japan. Speaking of which, he should be home by now.

Plucking you from your daze is the reporter’s voice shouting into her mic, “Breaking News!” You turn around, seeing her standing in front of Central Hospital on the small television screen.

“Japan’s Number One Pro Hero ‘Deku’ severely injured during quirk breeding rescue mission.” Your mind goes blank. You rush over to the TV, grabbing the remote, turning the volume up, and plonking down on the tan sofa.

You watch as footage comes on screen, showing Deku, outside of what looks to be an on-fire night club, surrounded by several villains in coordinated suits. Dynamight’s explosions can be heard in the back muffling the screams of girls chained and barely clothed who are being taken out of the building, covered in soot and coughing, by Shoto and Ingenium.

You watch intently as the villains lung at your hero. He dodges, expertly, using the intricacies of One For All to knock them unconscious. As gentlemanly as ever, even when he fights.

But it’s not enough. You continue watching, enraptured by the fight, as the reporter continues, “Pro Hero ‘Deku’, along with other heroes like Japan’s Number Two ‘Dynamight’, Number Three ‘Shoto’, and ‘Ingenuim’ have been on an undercover mission investigating quirk breeding auctions in downtown Tokyo’s underground night clubs for the past month. Tonight, things went awry as Dynamight engages, fed up with the secrecy of the mission, dragging the pro heroes into an intense fight with the villains orchestrating this conspiracy.”

“Of course it’s fucking Dynamight,” you mumble under your breath.

Deku’s now taking five villains at once when the left side of the building collapses due to the flames. It had been the entrance, where Shoto and Ingenium had been hauling out what you assume to be the victims of this scheme.

Shoto hands the young girl in his arms to one the firefighters at scene before turning around and yelling to Deku, “There’s still one more left in the building.”

Your hands have begun to shake. The suspense is wracking your nervous system.

“Deku attempts to dash back into the building when the villains he was just fighting jump onto him—”

They drag him to the ground, delivering some serious blows to his torso. The left side of the building further crumbles in on itself.

“Approaching Deku is another villain known to authorities as ‘Bon Appétit’. Quirk is knife.” Bon Appétit’s arms are comprised of different knives and swords, jutting out, sharp and glinting evilly. You cringe and yelp as the villain thrusts the blades into Deku’s left arm.

“Reeling from this blow, Deku uses One For All at what sources suspect to be full capacity, to fend off the villains and rescue the victim inside. Emerging—” The video pauses on a shot of him, girl on his back, left arm bloodied and dangling limply. From what you can see from the awful lighting, shaky cameraman, and torn shreds of Deku’s suit, his flesh is torn and skin (beneath the blood) has gone purple. No! “Deku’s left arm appears to be severely injured.”

The broadcast cuts back to the reporter outside of Central Hospital. There are a flurry of reporters and police surrounding the entrance to the hospital. She stands with her back to them and continues, “Pro Hero Deku was taken to Central Hospital to be treated shortly after 7pm. Our cameras caught—”

A video of an ambulance pulling up to the entrance plays on screen. Once it’s stopped, Deku is ushered out, flanked by paramedics. Dynamight steps out after him, shouting a string of censored curses and insults after broccoli boy in front—

“footage of Pro Hero ‘Deku’ being escorted by ambulance here with Dynamight and Shoto following suit. Love and support is being poured out by fans to Deku and his family tonight for his swift recovery. Hirota Miu, TBS Television.”

You sit there, hunched over, elbows on knees, shell-shocked. You don’t know how much time passes after the broadcast before you hear your phone ringing. You grab it from the low coffee table in front of you, clicking the green phone icon and bringing it to your ear reflexively.

“Miss [l/n], this is Dr Kita from Central Hospital. Deku gave us your details as his emergency contact.” You blink… and blink again. What? “Deku’s been seriously injured in his recent fight. He’s being prepared for emergency surgery on his left arm right now. You’re welcome to come in and visit once he’s out. The procedure should take 60 to 90 minutes. Just come to the front desk and give your information to the receptionists, and they’ll direct you.”

You stare out the window, looking at all the lights sparkling from above and below your apartment. How could everything seem so peaceful right now when your partner, your hero, was going in for emergency surgery?

“Yes I’ll, um, I’ll be right there. Um…”

“Is there anything else, Miss [l/n]?” You stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to think of what to say.

“No, sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“See you soon then, Miss [l/n].”

You move routinely, going to your bedroom to put on a bra before lacing up some sneakers, throwing on one of Izuku’s hoodies over your t-shirt and mini shorts, and grabbing your bag. You leave your apartment hastily and practically run to the station, taking it to the one closest to Central Hospital.

There are no words to describe how you feel. Your heart is pounding hard in your chest, and not from the exercise. Your skin is crawling with anxiety. Your shirt clings to the sweat dripping down your back, and every so often you wipe your sweat-laced palms on your shorts.

Your thoughts consist of “Is he okay?”, “Why is he going into emergency surgery?”, “That idiot, I told him never to use One For All at 100% because it could lead to some serious damage! He knows that. Why would he risk it?! The blow from that villain was bad enough, why did he have to…?”, and the like. One thought triggers the next, an endless cycle until Central Hospital is towering above your small figure.

You keep it calm and steady as you walk into the lobby. The receptionist greets you and tell her your name and why you’re here. She nods knowingly, not bothering to confirm details and telling you to take the elevator to level 3.

You follow her directions, down the hall and to the left. You’re met with dull blue double doors. The sign above reading ‘Recovery Room’. You push it open, involuntarily inviting numerous stares from doctors, nurses, and recovering patients who are conscious.

A tall, lanky man comes over to you, dressed in slacks and white lab coat. He has a clip board in hand. “I’m Dr Kita. You must be Miss [l/n]. We spoke on the phone.” You nod, trying to gulp down your nerves.

“Mr Midoriya’s surgery will be finished in about,” Dr Kita looks down at his silver watch, “an hour. You’re free to walk around, get some snacks or something. Visiting hours end at 8pm, but I’ll make an exception for you.” He smiles gently at you. You nod and thank him before looking away from him, thinking about how you were going to kill time.

You felt sick to your stomach, knowing that your boyfriend was undergoing surgery at the moment. What else could you possibly think about but that?

“Actually, Dr Kita, I’d like to just wait here.” You look back up at him. He has jet black hair tied neatly into a low bun. His rectangle glasses slip ever-so-slightly down his nose, behind which sleek brown eyes stare at you with a look of understanding.

“You can’t wait in the recovery room but you can wait outside. We’ll call you in once Mr Midoriya’s is out of surgery.”

Your response is a whisper, “Oh… okay.” You look down to your feet, shoulders slumping. Quickly, you pick yourself back up, raising your head back up and asking, “So, I’ll just wait in the corridor?”

Dr Kita nods and says, “That’s fine.”

You turn to leave before realising that you hadn’t even been told what surgery Izuku was undergoing. You turn back around, noticing that Dr Kita hadn’t moved an inch. “What’s his surgery for?”

Long, slender fingers push the glasses back up his hooked nose. He sighs, “Unfortunately, Mr Midoriya’s left arm has suffered trauma beyond repair. The decision was made to amputate part of his arm.” Your mouth falls open. Amputate. His. Left. Arm?

“And who made that decision?” Dr Kita shifts under your piercing gaze. You make a mental note to apologise later for staring daggers into him.

“The trauma surgeon did. He’s in there right now performing the procedure on Mr Midoriya. I understand that this may come as a shock, but he explained to me that it was necessary and urgent to amputate Mr Midoriya’s left arm as the tissues in his forearm and hand were damaged severely. Mr Midoriya was losing too much blood and some bones in the forearm had been shattered. There is too much damage and danger to simply reset the bones and stitch him up. The surgeon’s doing what he can to salvage what’s left of Mr Midoriya’s arm.”

Are you actually hearing this right now? Is this real? Are you actually in the hospital right now, hearing a doctor tell you that Izu-chan’s arm is to be amputated? Did you turn off the curry before leaving? Fuck.

“Do you mean that the whole arm won’t be amputated?” You ask.

“It’s possible that the whole left arm won’t be amputated. The main damage was done at the forearm and elbow.” Dr Kita’s tone was fairly dead-pan. But you’re not thinking about how many patients he must of seen in similar or worse situations, or the worst situations. All you’re thinking about is your boyfriend who might be losing most of his arm right now.

You gulp and say, “I see… Thank you for clarifying. I’ll, um, I’ll go wait outside now.” Dr Kita nods in acknowledgement before you spin on your heel and take your leave.

For the next hour, you pace back and forth, up and down the hallways of level 3. You check your phone every five minutes, making sure that you have enough time for another lap of the level. After one painstaking, anxiety-inducing, palm-sweaty hour, you’re standing outside of the recovery room, waiting to be called in.

You’ve been thinking it over… just how will it be, Izuku without his left arm. He’ll be devastated. He confided in you soon after you two first started dating that one of his biggest fears was pushing his body beyond its’ limits. He wanted to protect people, to be an incredible hero, and he would do anything to achieve that. He was afraid that one day, he would go too far and he wouldn’t be able to come back from that. And then, he wouldn’t be able to protect people anymore. How would he react, knowing that part of that fear had become reality? What would this mean for his hero career? For your relationship?

Even as this new reality dawned on you, not once did you even consider leaving him. How could you? He was the man that you were so deeply in love with. You two were discussing marriage just before he left for that mission. Oh, why did he have to go on that mission?!

He means so much to you. He’s been there for you at some of your hardest times, like when you first moved to Japan to pursue a career at the front of biomedical engineering. Or when the public had found out about you two and had bullied you relentlessly for your quirk due to it’s similarities to All For One’s. It was all the tabloids could talk about for the entire week, before Izuku had released a statement under his agency, clarifying the differences between your quirks and re-affirming his love and trust in you.

He had been the reason that your life in Japan had become so much more inclusive, joyful, and prosperous. Hell, he had even taught you Japanese at the beginning of your relationship, and continues to help you whenever there’s an expression or word that you don’t understand.

That All Might otaku has been there for you through everything. If that had been you. If you had lost your arm. He wouldn’t even consider the possibility of breaking up with you. How could you?

“Miss [l/n].” You’re brought out of your thoughts, seeing one of the nurses peaking out from behind the recovery room doors. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “He’s out.”

You rush over to her, entering when she pushes the door open for you and thanking her. And then, you spot ruffled deep green curls crowding a peaceful looking face. He’s still asleep. You let out a breath.

You follow the nurse over to the side of his bed, where you notice some other doctors in slacks. Dr Kita comes over almost immediately after you do. You’re by Izuku’s side, watching him. Speechless. About half of his left upper arm remains, wrapped beneath bandages with a stocking and drainage tubes attached. You can feel the tears starting come on. You tilt your head back, blinking rapidly. Not now! Not yet.

You look back down. The medical staff are talking in medical gibberish, so you focus on your pookie. It’s not that you can’t understand medical jargon. Being a biomedical engineer, you often work with such terminology. You’d just rather not right now. Not when Izu looks like an angel that’s fallen from the heavens as he sleeps. He’s got little cuts on his face that have been cleaned and had betadine dabbed onto them. His other arm has a cannula in it. It too is scarred and has other minor cuts that have also been cleaned up.

You sit on the side of his bed, waiting patiently for him to wake up. After a few minutes, his eyelids begin to flutter and soon, he opens his beautiful green eyes. You draw in a breath, taking in the dazed look on his face as he looks around and starts to move his head from side to side.

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita says. His voice is calm and steady. It stops you from leaning over to cup Izu’s cheeks. For now anyways.

“Mr Midoriya, can you hear me?” Izuku groans in response, he begins lifting his right hand to touch his face when the nurse beside him gently grabs it mid-air and brings it back down the bed.

“Try to not to move too much, Mr Midoriya," Dr Kita says.

“Ugh,” he groans, his voice hoarse. “What happened?” Dr Kita holds up two of his fingers in front of Izuku’s face.

“Mr Midoriya, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Izu grumbles, “Two.”

“Good. How are you feeling? Are you experiencing any dizziness or nausea?” Izuku shuts his eyes, his brows creased. He hums in response, "Both."

You can’t stop yourself from calling his name this time. “Izu-chan.” His eyes open immediately and he looks down at you from the slightly raised bedhead. He squints, murmuring with uncertainty at first, “[Y/n]?”

You bite the side of your lip, shifting closer to him, “Yea.”

“You’re here, babe.” His voice is still raspy.

You hum in agreement, “Of course, I’m here. You okay?”

He chuckles softly, “Mhmm I—”

Fuck. He goes to move his left hand, presumably up to his face again. He usually rubs the back of neck when gets nervous. But no hand moves. Because there’s no hand to move. You watch, lump in your throat, as he winces, letting out a groan of pain. Your eyes move with his, to the empty space that was the rest of his left arm. He looks back up at you, before turning his gaze to the doctors and nurses watching him cautiously.

“I-I don’t… I don’t understand. Am I?” He tries to move his left hand again but lets out another groan. “I-No, this can’t. I—”

“Mr Midoriya,” Dr Kita cuts him off. “Yes, we had to amputate most of your left arm. You had experienced trauma beyond repair to your left forearm and elbow from a combination of severe wounds and the use of One For All at what we suspect to be full capacity. The surgeon decided that this was for the best.”

It’s like you can hear his heart shattering into a million pieces. It shatters alongside your own. The look of pain, of sheer, tortuous, anguish across his face hearing those words, you can’t hold back your tears any longer.

You sniffle quietly as they roll down your cheeks. “Sorry,” you murmur, voice heavy with sadness. You mentally berate yourself for crying, drawing the attention to yourself when it’s not your moment. But, you can’t help it. All you want to do is give your boyfriend cuddles and tell him everything is going to be okay. That you’re going to make it through this together. But all you can do is sit there and start quietly sobbing.

“Honey.” You look up through your tears and fingers trying to wipe them away. He looks like he’s about to start crying too.

Izuku shifts his gaze from you to the doctors. “Can you give us a moment?”

“Mr Midoriya, we need to some che—”

“I’m happy to do whatever checks you want. Please, just give us some space first?”

The doctors look amongst each other, communicating in an unspoken code before taking their leave. You let out a shaky breath, looking at your boyfriend lying beside you.

“Hey," he says, his voice cracking. You both laugh. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands. His right hand grasps your lower back softly.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

“For what? It’s not your fault.” He looks at you with a gentle gaze, just as gentle as his touch.

“I know but I—” you choke on your sobs.

“Hey, it’s alright.” His hand pressures you to move forward so you can lay on his chest. But you don’t. You look up into those glassy green eyes.

“I can’t," you say, your voice tight. One of your hand goes to his chest. “You’re in pain," you continue, shaking your head.

His brows knit together at this, “I-It doesn’t hurt there.” You pause before you nod knowingly.

You too can’t help but want to be close to him like this. You lay your head on his chest with care, hands close to yourself. His right hand strokes the top of your head, scarred fingers threading through your silky [h/c] locks.

You tilt your head back, looking up at him. “You don’t have to pretend it’s okay. I-I know it’s not okay.” You plant a shaky small kiss on his jaw. His hand cups your shoulder.

“Yea,” his voice trembles. “I…” You can feel his chest vibrate with the emotions rising to the surface. You hear him sniffle, and soon, you two just lay there, crying together. One of the nurses brings over a tissue box which you two drain, wiping tears away and blowing noses. No words can articulate the kind of moment you two share.

It’s only when you two have calmed down that you lift yourself up from his chest. You cup his cheek in your right palm and murmur, “You hungry? D’you want some water?” He shakes his head, sniffling up those last tears. You dab his under eyes with the ruined tissue in your other hand.

“I was m-making—” You stop to inhale and exhale a deep breath before continuing, “tofu curry when they called me.” ‘Your favourite’ you leave unspoken.

“Can you b-bring me some?” He pouts. You nod your head ‘yes’, chuckling softly as you look down, “I will but, I don’t think they’ll let me back in if I leave now. Visiting hours are over.” Izuku nods, gulping down those straggler tears.

“I think I might have left it on, so I’ll bring some tomorrow, okay?” He nods again, bringing his right hand to your cheek, thumb gently caressing the delicate skin below your eyes.

“Mr Midoriya, Miss [l/n]. Do you mind if we continue with the general check-up?” You both look at each other before looking back at Dr Kita.

“Of course,” you reply as you move away from Izuku and stand up next to his bed. “Do I have to go now or?”

Dr Kita looks up from his clipboard, “We’ve given you special clearance for tonight. In future, you’ll have to abide by visiting hours.” He’s moved from the foot of the bed to the left side, a distance away from you.

“Visiting hours are from 10am to 8pm. I would advise leaving soon if you’re catching the train back to your apartment. I’m sure you know that it’s not very safe walking around alone at night.” You hum in response.

You look back at Izuku who shakes his head in agreement. He sniffles, “I-I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” You nod, moving closer and leaning over him, placing a small kiss on his lips. Your first in a month. It’s brief but sweet. Just enough to keep you going until tomorrow.

“Stay strong for me, okay?” You say. Izuku smiles back at you.

You pull back and turn towards Dr Kita, “Thank you for all of your help, doctor. I’ll be back here tomorrow. Should I just ask at reception?”

He hums in response and says, "See you tomorrow, Miss [l/n].” You walk past Dr Kita, turning around once your approaching the doors, locking eyes with your Izu before leaving the recovery room.

The trip home is filled with replays of all that had just happened. When you got back, you found that luckily, you had in fact turned the curry off. You turn it back on, following the recipe in your mind to finish it off. Dinner, packing leftovers, dishes, all go by mindlessly. You’re still stuck in a daze by the time you sit in your plush chair in the corner of your room, pulling at your journal. It’s time to talk about it.

these are the links that I used to write this story:

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/10iiud/amputees_of_reddit_what_was_it_like_to_lose_a/

https://www.quora.com/What-is-it-like-to-lose-a-limb-in-an-accident-and-how-did-you-handle-the-emergency

https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/psychology/cyborg#:~:text=Initially%2C%20a%20cyborg%20was%20described,to%20compensate%20for%20some%20disabilities

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cyborg_(DC_Comics)#:~:text=transform%20the%20city.-,Powers%20and%20abilities,speed%2C%20stamina%2C%20and%20flight

https://www.fairviewrehab.com/nursing-care/care-after-amputation/

https://www.cancercouncil.com.au/cancer-information/cancer-treatment/surgery/recovery/hospital-recovery-room/

https://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/definition-amputation

https://my-hero-academia-fanon.fandom.com/wiki/Cybernetic_Arms

https://newsinhealth.nih.gov/2018/08/bionic-movements#:~:text=The%20bionic%20hand%20sends%20signals,hand%20is%20closing%20or%20opening

when they're drunk

izu, katsuki, kiri, shoto

wc: 360

midoriya izuku

super lightweight ⟶ two shots of vodka and he’s already drunk

clingy and wants lots of affection

will lay on top of you and tell you about his all might merch collection and trading cards ⟶ actually unable to shut up until he inevitably falls asleep on you

doesn’t usually like the taste of alcohol so prefers a piña colada or cocktail

he’ll usually have a drink when going out with the dekusquad cause he doesn’t want them to feel like their drinking alone ⟶ y’all know tenya is the DD

bakugou katsuki

heavyweight

goes red in the face, ears, neck and chest when drunk

prefers beer on tap

actually doesn’t drink that much cause he doesn’t want to lose control of himself like shitty hair; usually the DD for the bakusquad

the other reason why he doesn’t like to get drunk is because he feels sad and lonely ⟶ with you around, he’ll ask you questions about how much you love him and talk about how jealous he gets when he sees you with other men before giving you cuddles

kirishima eijiro

gets fucked up; life of the party and tearing up the dance floor; hitting on the ladies relentlessly

just mindlessly happy n’ extroverted, especially when drunk

would like to think he’s a heavyweight for manliness points, but isn’t

convinces denki and sero to go do something reckless and dumb, like go to a seven eleven and see who can drink a large of all the slurpee flavours first

tries to convince you that he’s not drunk when bakugou calls you to pick him up ⟶ his tongue is rainbow and he’s got the worst stomach ache ever; you don’t need an explanation

goes for hard liquor ⟶ tequila, vodka, whiskey, bourban

todoroki shoto

has never been drunk before

really smiley when tipsy, laughs at all your jokes, talks more than usual

he’s quite alert still, even when he’s tipsy ⟶ he’ll pick up on the lingering scent in the air if you’ve cooked dinner hours earlier

prefers sake ⟶ the only alcohol in the todoroki household was sake, so it’s the drink he’s most familiar with

he’s not very adventurous ⟶ tried a gin and tonic once and it got the nod of approval

rut suppressants pt.2

alpha!todoroki shoto x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, fluff, talk of kids, in the shower, 2.1k

pt.1

The next week is a haze. You’re constantly out of breath, panting and mewing and moaning and squealing and screaming and all the rest of it. Your body belongs to your mate and he’s playing with it, moving it, folding it however he likes. And you couldn’t ask for anything more.

You two become one in a mix of sweat and fluids gushing and dripping onto any surface (un)fortunate enough to be touched by your passion. Bed, dresser, floor, island bench, couch, shower walls, balcony doors. He’s got you covered in his fingertips, stained black and blue. Hickeys paint the expanse of your neck, chest, and thighs. Not even your arms or hips are safe from his assault. And you love it.

Of course, you had to call in sick from work for next week. The reason you rasped out quickly over the phone to your boss while Shoto was drawing you back beneath the covers, was that you’re mate was “awfully unwell” and you had to “take care of him.” And taking care of him, you sure were. If the presentation went well? Who knows, who cares. It hasn’t crossed your mind since he had taken your phone from your hand and threw it across the room, onto the floor.

It was now day eight. The late morning sunlight was filtering into your mess of a bedroom. You were clammy with sweat and other fluids. Your body was pressed against Shoto’s side, arms wrapped around his torso. His warm arm is draped lazily around your shoulders, while his cold hand is resting atop yours just below his pecs.

You had woken up first, using the first few minutes to take in the sight that was your alpha. His mouth hung slightly open, soft snores coming from his rising and falling chest. His white and red locks were tangled and matted to his pale forehead. You waited patiently, watching to see if those long lashes would flutter, and if his eyes would open… but, they didn’t.

Chuckling quietly to yourself, you slowly remove yourself from his grasp, which is no easy feat, seeing as you were quite small compared to him. It took about ten minutes for you to finally drag his arm off you; it had tightened when you started to move, leading you to freeze up and wait it out, until his arm relaxed. You wobbled on your feet.

This is the first time you’ve stood on your own and tried to walk in days. You limp over to the bathroom, the ache in your inner thighs, your hips, your back, arms, everywhere, making it hard to walk properly. Once in the bathroom, your hands grasp the sink-top. Looking into the mirror, you see your own reflection staring back at you. Dark under-eyes; knotty [h/c] locks, some clinging to your ears and cheeks, others to your temples; the artwork his mouth had left behind all over your chest and shoulders. This man… You sighed.

Taking it slow, you make your way into the shower and turn on the hot water, than the cold. You wait for it to reach that perfect temperature before getting under and moaning with delight. The warmth washes away the stickiness on your skin and eases your sore muscles. It soaks into every part of your body, and all you can do is just stand there, palms against the little blue square tiles, eyes closed, and enjoy the sensation.

Soon enough, you’ve shampooed your hair and now let the condition sit in it, long hair in a makeshift bun. You’re rinsing off the suds from your skin when a pair of arms wrap around your waist. One hot, the other icy.

“Shoto!” You exclaim. You were surprised that he had woken up so soon, and even a bit saddened that you wouldn’t have more time to yourself before getting railed again.

“Hey,” your mate mumbles sleepily into your shoulder.

You lean back into him and turn around, placing your hands on his muscular shoulders. He hasn’t shifted. He’s just resting his forehead against your neck. He always does this whenever you’re cuddling. He’s thinking of what to say next, so you stay quiet and give him as much time as he needs to think. Seeing his usual quietness return, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding in and smile. Your fingers run themselves through his locks mindlessly, dampening them.

You’re curling your fingers in the hair at his nape when he speaks, “I’m sorry.” Your brows furrow and lips pout. You pull back from him slightly, lifting his face up so that you can see that look in his eyes. Guilt. But why?

“Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say more quietly than you had intended to, the words coming out barely above a whisper. The running water almost blocks them out.

“For all of this,” he says. He removes his cold arm from your lower back, long fingers pointing to all of the hickeys and bite-marks covering your décolletage.

You giggle, “Don’t be.” You run your fingers behind his ears. “I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head, dismissing what you’ve said. “No, you should mind. I can’t do this to you again, [y/n].” He averts his gaze, turning his head to the side. You guide his focus back towards you, much preferring those angelic, heterochromatic eyes on you than on the shower wall.

“Shoto, babe, I don’t understand what you’re saying," you say, forehead creased.

“You should be angry with me for how I’ve treated you this past week. I’ve been so rough with you. I haven’t been taking good enough care of you. I—”

You pressed your finger to his lips, shutting him up. “But I’m not angry with you. Well, a little over lying to me about your ruts.” You cock your head to the side, taking in that extra guilty look he’s got now.

Giggling, you continue, “But honestly, this past week has been one of my favourite weeks ever! Even more than the week we were staying at that beach villa. Do you remember that?” You grin wide, slowly removing your finger from his lips.

He nods in response, “But—”

“There is no ‘but’. I liked it and I hope you did to.” He brought you back into him, his forehead going back to it’s resting place on the side of your neck. His lips brush your mating mark.

He sighs, “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” You can’t help but sound hurt. He’s your mate, your alpha, your husband… your best friend. Why wouldn’t he want you to know all of him the way he knows all of you so intimately?

“’Cause,” he mutters, “it’s shameful.”

“Getting batshit crazy to protect and screw your mate? I don’t think so. It happens to all alphas.” You laugh a little before continuing, “I hate to break it to you, but your not that special, pretty boy.” Looks like your massive ego has returned.

He chuckles all raspy into your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin, incomparable to the steam gathering around your bodies. “’Not that special’?” He pulls back and steps away from you, taking his cold and his heat. His eyes stare at you in disbelief, face painfully far from yours.

“Nope,” you smirk. You look up into his eyes, right brow slightly raised, daring him to take it further.

But, he doesn’t fall for it. Or at least, not yet. “You’re saying that I’m ‘not that special’?” You nod in agreement. “Hmm, you’re right. I’m not that special. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you every time I rut.”

Fuck, he still feels guilty. You look away, already wishing that you could skip the rest of the conversation and get to the part where you’re making out again. “Babe, look, I told you, I like it when you’re rough with me, okay? I like it when your slow. I like it when your romantic. I like it whenever you touch me, so please don’t feel so guilty about it.”

He still doesn’t look convinced.

“Honestly. I mean…” You trail off, thinking of a way to get it through to him that being aggressive and horny asf is a normal alpha thing and not a self-discipline problem. “Okay okay, do you think that I’m some horny, pathetic slut when I’m in my heat?”

“Of course I don’t,” he frowns disapprovingly.

“It’s the same thing!” You say, your hands flying up to his chest as you take a step closer. “I get super clingy, you get super protective, and we both wanna bang each other. There’s no shame in that.”

You’re on your tip-toes, leaning up towards him. He looks so hot when he’s mad, you can’t help but want to kiss him. He sighs and obliges, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, hands back on your body, exploring conquered territory. You two stay like that for a little. Shoto moving to place small kisses on your nose, cheeks, eye lids, and forehead, before coming back to your lips. Much to your disappointment, he finally pulls back, cupping your cheeks and gazing deeply into your eyes.

“You never told me where you put my suppressants.” You groan, rolling your eyes involuntarily. Not this shit again. Don’t tell me he wants to start taking that cr—

“I’m not going to take them, there’s no use now. But please, tell me where you put them.” He wraps his fingers around your chin, bringing your focus back to him.

You shake your head ‘no’. He sighs in response, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. You follow suit.

“Please.” You’re such a sucker for when he pleads.

Huffing, you give up the secret location, “They’re in the dresser, top drawer, beneath my underwear.”

No response. It’s quiet between you two for three seconds too long. Shoto questions, “But why?”

“Why’re they beneath my underwear?”

“No. Why did you take them?”

You bite the side of your lip, pondering if you should tell him why you really took them or not. You don’t have to think for long though, the flesh slipping out from your teeth. “I took them because I’ve never seen you rut before. And, um well, yea I just got a bit concerned, you know?” Your alpha removes his forehead from yours.

Tilting his head to the side, he asks “Concerned about what?”

“Well, um, you know—” It falls quiet between you two for another minute or two. The water hitting the shower tiles is the only sound permeating the tension.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Shoto,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” You pout. He continues looking at you adorably, confused.

You sigh, “Fine. I was worried that maybe you were on rut suppressants because you didn’t wanna have kids with me.” You got real quiet at the end there, averting your gaze to look down at your feet. Did Shoto always have such big feet? They look pretty massive compared to your own right n—

“You thought that I didn’t want to have kids with you?” He slid his hands to your waist, the similar sensation calming you. You looked back up at him, seeing that he had leaned back down now, your noses almost brushing.

You nodded, “Yea. You know, I-I thought that straight after we got married we would start trying but… we just, um, we just didn’t.”

You were biting your lip again. A nervous habit. A nervous habit Shoto loves. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pulling it out from the clutches of your teeth. He watches as the flesh perfectly rounds. Sighing, he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is tender, but deep. Tongues are swirling, hands seeking more and more of each other’s bodies, little moans escaping here and there. He pulls away slowly, saliva connecting your lips before snapping with the distance.

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to make you doubt our future together. I just didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“I know,” you nod as you caress his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs, gently brushing over the edges of his scar. It’s quiet for a little as you two just take in this moment.

“Why don’t we start trying then? When our cycles sync up we can—” You squeal excitedly.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you exclaim, “Why don’t we start trying now?!” You’re grinning from ear-to-ear.

“O-oh oka—” You cut him off, smashing your lips back together...

Let’s just say that your attempt at creating new life today seemed very promising.

rut suppressants pt.1

alpha!todoroki shoto x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — smut, p in v, masturbation, voyeurism, knotting, oral sex, swearing, 5.2k words

pt.2

You were typing away at your computer, responding to some dry work emails about tomorrow’s presentation. You had been working in a small team to design a new marketing strategy for your company’s latest hero gadgets. And of course, you had been pulling the weight of the team, you little hard worker. Or maybe your HR team didn’t hire the right candidates, you decide. It was easy enough though. The hard part was just getting your colleagues to look like they knew what they were doing by 10am tomorrow.

After responding to another email of “What does this mean?”, you heard the front door click open, grocery bags scraping against it. Ah, your mate is home. Finally, you smile.

You set your desktop to sleep before leaving the study. As you walk down the hallway, half-white half-red hair comes into view. He’s got his back to you. Black shirt clinging to his sweaty muscles. Must of been to the gym too, you thought. You rest your shoulder against the fridge, arms crossed underneath your chest, taking in the sight of you husband. He’s going through the bags, rummaging through them restlessly, clearly on the hunt for something.

“Need some help?” You smirk.

He turns around, blue-grey eyes wide. His expression visibly eases, slightly opened mouth forming a closed smile. “No, I’m fine. How was work?” He returns to his scavenger hunt in the bag right at his feet.

“Fine. I’ve got it under control for tomorrow’s meeting.” You push off of the fridge and come up behind him, hand on the edge of the island bench. You look over his shoulder, curious about what he could possibly be looking for. Shoto always gave you a kiss first thing whenever he came home, regardless of what had happened during patrol or of what you were doing. For him to neglect you like this was rather odd.

“You didn’t do all the work again, did you?” His voice had an edge to it… It made you bite your lip ever-so-slightly.

“You know how it is—”

“Well, it shouldn’t be,” he almost growled. “You should all be doing it, not just you.” He cussed under his breath.

Okay, this was getting weird. Agitated over you working hard? I mean yea but, he usually reins it it, accepts that this job is just that for you, a job. One that you’ve talked to him about leaving. And swearing? Not Shoto. Only when y’all are… you know.

“Shoto, babe, what’s up?” You say. You're standing directly behind him, you run your hand through his locks. He hums.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine," you whine.

You watch as he starts going through the fourth bag, pulling out a small box with the label “Rut suppressants. Take as needed. Maximum dosage: five per day."

This little fucker. You snatch it out of his hands immediately, sprinting from the scene into the back of your apartment.

“[Y/n]! [Y/n] stop!” You can hear him coming after you, the sound of his feet hitting the floorboards. “Give that to me now!”

You’re running frantically, heart pounding in your chest, hands getting sweaty around the evil cardboard box. You dash into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut. Fuck! Where should I hide it?

You look around, [e/c] eyes settling on the dresser. You race over to it, emptying the contents of the box into the first draw, beneath your bras and panties.

“[Y/n]!”

Shit, he’s close to the door. You slam the drawer shut and run-stumble into the ensuite. Leaning against the door, you lock it. Okay okay, think! Think! The door knob rattles.

“[Y/n]! Open this door right now or I swear—” The silver handle is shaking now.

The toilet! You open the lid and crush the box in your hands; it makes those crinkling noises before you toss it into the trash bin and flush the toilet. At that moment, the door bursts open.

Shoto’s chest is heaving. His eyes are unfocused, frenzied. He’s panting… with anger you decide as there’s no way that little sprint could of worked up the number 3 pro hero that much. He stalks towards you, grabbing your wrists and leaning down to meet your eyes.

“What did you do with it?” His tone shocks you. His voice is so low now… and hoarse. It throws you off. “With-with what?” You breath out. You’re pretty puffed. “Don’t play dumb. You didn’t actually flush ‘em down the toilet, did you?” His face is now inches from yours.

You remain defiant, eyes staring back into his. The heat radiating from his left tickles your skin. “Um… well yea, yea I did. They’re um, yea, they’re down the toilet.” He laughs. More like barks. His breath hits your face. All you can smell is his sweat interlaced with his fresh scent.

“You’re so bad at lying, you know that?” He smirks, straightening back up. His muscles pull taut as he runs pale fingers through that snowy, silky hair. You watch as he looks around the bathroom.

“Where’d you really put ‘em?” He looks back down at you, scrutinising you beneath his gaze. Your ragged breathing now hitches.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t deny it!” He shouts. You shrink back instinctively.

You’ve never seen him like this before. He’s always so controlled. Even when you’re in heat, he’s always got it together. Always able to draw back or change the pace when you need him to. That’s why you took the pills off him in the first place.

You’ve been getting suspicious for months now since the two of you got married that he’s been on rut suppressants. It just didn’t add up. After your first heat together, you had actually asked him about his ruts so you knew when you had to return the favour.

“I don’t really rut, babe.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, heterochromatic eyes averting from yours.

You laughed in response. “You don’t rut?” Your eyebrows raised. “Should I be concerned or…”

“No,” he said shyly, “it’s not like that.”

You waited for him to continue, watching as his eyes fluttered from object to object.

“I don’t get very intense ruts.”

Your brow was still quirked. “You don’t get ‘very intense ruts’? Like, you don’t get super aggressive and horny when you rut.”

His muscles relaxed upon hearing that. He looked back at you now. “Yea, it’s a minor annoyance. Nothing to worry about.”

You relaxed too, seeing that he was more comfortable now. “Trust me.” He took your hands in his larger ones. The temperature difference of both something you weren’t used to yet. “You don’t ever have to worry about control with me.” He gave you a sweet reassuring smile.

“Are you sure? I mean—”

“Trust me.” He squeezed your hands and leaned over, planting a small kiss on your lips. You grinned as he pulled back, trusting his word, however strange it seemed.

Had he lied to you? When you had announced to your friends that you and Shoto were (finally) getting married, they had warned you about that post-wedding baby fever. The endless marathon sex you two would be having once your cycles synced up. You had been waiting your entire relationship for that to happen and it hadn’t. So, once you two tied the knot wink, you had been hoping that the talk of pups would come up, but it just hadn’t. That’s when you had begun to think something was off. Even if he didn’t have “intense ruts”, he would still be feeling the urge to breed you, wouldn’t he? Or maybe he just didn’t—

“Where did you put my suppressants?” He stared you down, thin brows furrowed. “Babe…” His hands are trembling at his sides. Pupils dilated so only the rims of his irises are visible. It strikes fear and-and something else into you. Attraction? Excitement? Maybe you should try something else. Something else that’s gonna get you the result you want.

“Make me.”

At this, he frowns even more. “Make you what?”

“Make me tell you.” You take a step forward, feigning confidence, coming close to him again and tilting your head to the side, challenging him.

He scoffs. Those beautiful eyes, like solar eclipses, flickering away from you for a moment. “Make you…” He says quietly. He stares at you even more intensely now as he’s thinks it over.

It’s time to get cocky. “Yea, make me.” You stretch up towards him, arms wrapping around his neck. “I want you,” you move to whisper in his ear, your lips brushing his earlobe. “My sexy Alpha,” you run both of your hands through his hair now. He groans right back into your neck, large hands palming your lower back. “To make me submit to you.”

In an instant, you're over his shoulder, his palm smacking your right cheek. He’s carrying you out of the ensuite. You’ve done it now hehe.

As he crosses the threshold, you notice the door knob was coated in ice, hanging there, limp. Looks like you’ve gotta add fixing that to your to-do list tomorrow. He throws you like a stuffed toy onto your plush bed. His shirt’s already coming off, rippling contours all for your pleasure. Yea, make that a ‘to-do next week’.

Large hands already besides your head. Lean arms, meaty thighs, delicious toned frame caging you in. You’re forced to stare into those mismatched eyes. Not like you’d want to do anything else anyways.

Your breaths intermingle, just like your scents. He just stares at you, licking his soft, full lips. Afternoon light from the adjacent windows makes your figures glow. You love the way it streaks through his hair, and he loves the way it catches on your pretty pink lips. He thumbs your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth. You lower your chin, taking his thumb into your mouth. You circle your tongue over the top of his thumb before tasting the pad of it. It’s cold, like a popsicle you suck on in summer. You can think of another ‘popsicle’ you’d rather be sucking on right now.

“I… I-I don’t…” His brows are knitted together once more. Pupils wavering between dilated and contracted, showing off those blue and grey hues you love so much. You stop what you’re doing with your tongue, opting to place both of your hands on his cheeks. His thumb leaves your mouth but rests on your chin.

“I don’t know if… if this s-safe.” You can’t stop yourself from giggling a little. What a cutie.

“Pookie, of course this is safe. I was made for you. You know that, right?” You smirk. You’re a feelin’ like a cocky little shit today btw if you didn’t get that. This man’s shyness inflating your ego.

“Of course I do but…” He averts his gaze, looking at your ear instead.

“But?” You continue. However, he doesn’t respond. He just moves his hand from your chin and tucks a strand of [h/c] hair behind your ear, which has suddenly become the most interesting thing in the room.

“You don’t wanna hurt me? You do wanna hurt me but don’t wanna admit it?” You tease.

“No! No, of course I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes shift back to yours.

“Shoto.” You squeeze his cheeks gently. “I’m your omega. If you hurt me then you can just make it better.” You bring his face closer to yours. “You can make it better, can’t you?” You whisper.

He gulps, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the motion. “Y-yea,” he replies, voice low, “I can.” That last part coming out with more confidence.

“Good, then don’t make me dom you, Alpha. That’s kinda embarrassing for you.” You giggle whilst leaning up to him and finally, kiss him.

You both moan into it, feeling the relief washing through you two. But quickly, it’s not enough. It’s far from enough. He growls into your lips, changing his tilt. You follow his lead. You like that. His tongue grazes your bottom lip and you part immediately for him. The tangle that ensues is soul-gripping, bone-shaking, mind-blanking, breath-taking…

Your fingers are gripping his locks. His fingers are gripping the hem of your thin white tank top. Saliva, don’t know don’t care whose, if dripping from the corners of your mouth. His exhale is your inhale and vice versa. He catches your lower lip between his teeth. His sharp canines sending tingles throughout your entire being. There’s nothing that gets you slicked up like a lip bite from your Alpha.

He pulls away, you two panting. Not that the reprieve is sufficient or long-lived. Soon his lips are sucking and nipping your earlobe and that sensitive spot beneath your ear. You whimper out his name. “Shoto”, “Alpha”, “Daddy”, maybe “Babe” or “Honey”… yea, those, they’ll be the only words you know for the next week.

He nips at your mating mark, the beautiful white scar just above your left collarbone. He continues biting it, almost re-piercing the scar. You can’t help the moan-mumbles that tumble out of your mouth. Already, your wetness is soaking your blue lace panties and beginning to slide down your inner thighs.

“Fuck,” Shoto breathes out into your other ear. You shudder at the word, one hand sliding down to his shoulder.

He continues at it, licking and sucking and kissing and biting at your neck. Soon, his fingers are tearing through your top. You mewl at the sensation of him ripping the torn, flimsy fabric off your body. His hands reach for your bare breasts, cupping them completely. Those long fingers begin pinching at the sensitive flesh. Your body responds instinctively, moaning, small hands grasping his wrists, breaths catching in your chest and throat.

He fingers your nipples before bringing his mouth down to you, lips ghosting the hard peaks between his fingertips. He takes one into his mouth, eliciting a delicious whimper from you. His warm tongue circles your nipple as you did to his thumb, but just so much better.

You’ve barely gotten started and yet, you know never get enough of this. No matter how many times he’s done and will do this to you, and so much more, you’ll never be forever satiated. You just can’t be.

He moves to the other, keeping your now wet left breast covered by his cool palm. Fuck, that feels good. More moans spill from your mouth as he continues his ministrations. That slick is at your knees, probably. You can’t really tell cause it just feels like a wet, sticky mess down there at this point.

“Shoto,” you whine. He groans in response. “Hurryyyyy up,” you drag out that ‘y’ as you mewl. You shudder as he chuckles against your tender skin. Tender from his bites and sucking, of course.

“You want me to go faster?” He pulls away from your breast, face coming back close to yours. You whine and nod your affirmation.

“But if I go faster,” he strokes your cheek softly with the back of his index finger, “you’ll miss out on all the fun.” His finger trails down to your chin, gripping it tightly but playfully with his other fingers.

Damn, you’re getting wetter by the second. He’s doesn’t usually tease you during your intimacy. Prefers that slow, soul-binding kinda love-making.

He just smirks at you before moving back to his painstakingly slow kisses and sucks on your breast. He only moves down to your ribs once he’s satisfied and you’ve probably soaked the bed sheets with how much he’s turning you on. It’s driving you insane. No. He drives you insane.

Shoto’s hands wrap around your ribs, feeling their rise and fall and their ridges. “Beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing each rung. He keeps those eyes on you. All cocky. He knows what he’s doing to you and he likes how pathetic it makes you for him. And you can’t help but like it too.

After thoroughly kissing and touching every part of your torso, your arms, your everything really, he’s finally fingering your low waistband. You sigh relief and begin wriggling, trying to get those pants off as fast as possible, but your Alpha is still having none of it.

“Be patient,” he growls as he squeezes your clothed inner thigh, your flesh perking up between his fingers.

“But Alpha—”

“I said,” he stares you down, this dark look in his eyes, “be patient.”

You whine, “Yes Alpha.”

Hearing your compliance, he loosens his grip on your thigh and begins kissing your hip bones and skin just above the band. Fuck, he’s really killing you this time. I thought alphas were all, “Let’s bang. Now. Hard.” when they’re rutting but, I guess not. Maybe, Shoto didn’t completely lie to you by saying that his ruts were different to other alphas. Or maybe, he just wants to tease you for once.

You’re brought back to reality when you gasp reflexively to him biting into your inner thigh through your wet pants. Wet as in soaked and clinging to your hot skin.

“You’re not focusing on me.” Shoto’s voice is low, raspy. Fuck, you love it when he talks like that. Especially just after he’s woken up and you two have some fun together before getting up.

“And you’re not even focusing on me right now.” He bites even harder into your thigh, breaking through the fabric and pulling little red dots to the surface of your now swollen, marked flesh.

“I,” you breath out. “I thought you wanted me to be patient.”

“I want you to do both. Can you manage that? Or is that too much for my little girl?” He’s got a shit-eating grin across face. Since when was your husband such a tease, and such a good fucking one at that? It’s the years of pills, you decide.

“N-no, I can’t manage. Help me m-manage.” You imagine that you must look like some blubbering, whimpering mess right now, and you’re not even naked yet. And he’s not even naked yet.

“Okay,” his grin widens.

Licking those glorious lips, those lips that you want on yours and not the ones on your face if you know what I mean, he pulls away from your thighs. He gets up from the bed, taking off his grey sweatpants and briefs. And fuck, you’re not ready for what meets you. For real. Swollen, hard, precum dripping down the shaft.

He smirks at you as he grabs his cock with his hand, moaning on impact. His other hand comes up to his face, finger pointing to the side of his mouth. At this point, your sitting up, thighs to calves, legs spread wide, dragging your wide eyes up and down his body.

“You’re drooling.”

I would say that you blushed at hearing this, but you’re already red as fuck in the face with how hot he’s been making you. You’re embarrassed and laugh it off, hand coming to wipe that spit from the side of your mouth. Yea, that was definitely yours and not his from earlier. That had already dried.

“W-well, how can I not when,” you take a deep breath in and look back up at him, “when my husband looks this good.”

“Have I got your attention now?” That rasp. That will be the end of you. Or the end of these bed sheets, whichever comes first. You nod feverishly. “Good girl.”

Ah fuck. He’s praising you. Fuck. That’s it. If that dick isn’t in you within the next three minutes, who knows what will happen next. You start shuffling over toward him when he stops you.

“No. You stay there. I want you to watch.” His eyes crinkle as he smiles, amused by your reaction as you realise what’s going on. Is this how this twisted fucker wants you to help you 'be patient' and 'focus'? By not letting you touch him? And by not touching you?

“I can’t. No. Babe. No please.” You’re shaking your head vigorously, already rising from the bed when his hands find your shoulders and push you back to sit down on the edge.

“Watch.” His voice is commanding, absolute.

You’re forced to obey your alpha and sit there helplessly as he pumps his veiny cock with those veiny hands. The precum now all over his dick with even more leaking from the tip. His dick that should be in you right now. His eyes are trained on you, observing every stuttered breath you take in, every time you bite the side of your lip, how focused you are on how he’s pleasuring himself. That feels even better than his hands ever could. Fucking hell.

“Can I—” You start.

“No. Just watch."

“Not you but my—”

“No. Watch.” His tone is stern. His voice strained.

Fuck. If your hands were bound then this would be so much easier, but no, you’re forced to hold back from touching yourself by your alpha’s command and your own self-discipline. You doubt that you’re even allowed to rock your hips right now.

You watch as his movements get faster and now he’s panting. His eyes half-lidded and tongue darting out across his lower lip every so often. You can see the sweat beading on his chest. You start whining, wanting to be the one touching him like that. What you wouldn’t give to just… just have him right now.

“Please,” you begin. Which becomes a slew of please daddy, please, please let me touch you, please, I’m sorry that I took your suppressants, I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry Alpha, I’m sorry that I wasn’t being patient or f-focusing on you, please Alpha, please let me touch you, please, please, please, please… You don’t stop. You can’t stop. All you can do is sit there, slick drenching the sheets below you even though you’re lower half is still clothed, and plead for your alpha to fuck you.

His pale hips jerk forward and you can tell he’s really close. Would he even let you swallow it? But he stops. He stops and comes over to you, collapsing onto you, arms around your shoulders and neck.

“Shoto,” you squeak, but it’s muffled by his weight falling onto you. He huffs into your ear and you just rub his back.

“Tired already,” you jest, but he’s not in the mood to play with you anymore.

“Enough. I can’t cuddle my wife?” He mumbles grumpily into your shoulder before taking the flesh between his teeth.

You hum, “You can always cuddle your wife, but I’d like it more if you fucked me.” He chuckles low, right below your ear. You feel it vibrating through his throat and chest.

“Yea, I bet you would.”

He holds you for a little longer before pulling back, peeling his sweaty body off yours.

“Alright, I’ll give you your reward,” he smiles lazily, even showing off one side of his pearly whites.

You squeal with delight, “Finally!”

“Oi, settle,” he says as positions you so that he’s between your legs, spread wide, slowly pulling both pants and panties off you. Oi?

“So, you’ve been on patrol with Dynami—”

“Don’t mention him,” Shoto growls. He’s been doin’ a lotta that today and you like it. A lot. “Or anyone else right now. It’s just you and me.” You nod submissively. You really should stop riling him up sometimes. But you can’t help it. You’re a cheeky little shit after all.

The relief that engulfs you once those dreadful clothes are off brings out a sigh of pleasure from you. He doesn’t make you wait any longer. He’s already at the source of your heat, lapping up your slick like it’s the elixir of life. To him, it is. You whimper and mewl as his tongue makes its’ way between your folds. It feels so warm and wet, perfect against your swollen lips. You relish in the feeling of what he’s doing to you.

Shoto eats you out like he’s been starved. Greedily, hungrily, in a frenzy. Without a break for air, he keeps going. That tongue, those long digits curling inside of you, his lips, all making you shake and mew. The whimpers and words leaving your mouth are unholy and impure, some real nasty shit.

Only he can get you like this. Only he can have you saying shit like, “Fuck me however you want, daddy.” Or, “Knot in me, alpha! Breed your little omega!”

Once he’s had his fill, he moves away from your core, grabbing your hips and flipping you over, onto your stomach. His fingers are back at your folds, playing with your clit and teasing your entrance, drawing more filthy moans from you. You feel him move on top of you, straddling you. He withdraws his fingers, replacing them with what you’ve been craving for this entire time.

You moan loudly as he fills you up, completely, inch-by-inch. He groans as you draw him in, tight walls clenching around his girth. He stays still for a few moments, allowing you to get comfortable, before he sets a brutal pace. You hands are by your shoulders, gripping the sheets as he fucks you.

Your body is shaking, contorting to his every rough thrust in and out. It’s got your mind absolutely filled with how only your mate can do this to you. You can’t even form a sentence. You mewl, over and over, to the sound of your skin slapping harshly together. Your mingled groans and moans, all that dirty shit dripping from your mouths fill the room. It’s humid. Sweat coating your bodies. Your hair is stuck to your forehead.

Your favourite part — besides from how tight he’s gripping your hips, likely (and hopefully) leaving bruises on your soft skin — is how deep he gets. His tip reaches that perfect spot, making your toes curl and knees bend, before he draws back out, and he does it again and again.

“Sh-sho-shot-to." He grunts out in response. “Sho-sho-I—” Fuck, you can’t even get the sentence out. That’s how brain fucked, how body fucked, this man’s got you.

“What?” He growls. He’s breathing hard, you can hear it, and it makes you drip even more and he can feel it.

“Use your words, baby. What is it?” He groans.

The filthy sounds of him pounding you fills your ears. The squelching of your juices around his length. You can’t even remember what you were trying to say. Oh! That’s right!

“I-I Shoto-Sho fuck I’m-I-I’m gonna,” your voice is quiet and breathy, but he still hears you clearly.

He can feel your thighs beginning to shake, the way your pussy tightens and then releases, and he knows what you mean. “I know,” he grunts again. You continue to moan, feeling your climax coming in hard n’ fast. You gotta know if—

“Just hold on for me, alright. Just-just hold on.” You whimper in response. Not cum yet? You don’t know if you can do that.

“I’ll try—”

He cuts you off, saying, “You will wait for me.”

Your moans and mewls get louder as you get closer, as does his growls and grunts. Even if you can’t wait for him , it doesn’t really matter, you still benefit.

He picks up the pace. You never even realised he had this kinda stamina. But, you should of known. He is THE pro hero ‘Shoto’.

It feels impossibly more pleasurable. It’s like he’s surrounding you. Every thrust is godsent. You couldn’t escape the pleasure of this moment, even if you tried. Your orgasm is building and building, threatening to crash down on you any second now.

“Shoto!” You cry out. You’ve got tears in your eyes. Your shaking, trembling, convulsing as you climax. You squeeze around him hard, sending him over the edge with you. You’re sobbing and screaming at this point, as you feel his knot swell and plunge into you. Thick, white, hot ropes spilling into you. Filling you completely with his seed. Fuck.

You ride out the high together, him rocking into you and you rocking as much as you can manage back into him. Breathing out, he leans down, pulling you back and laying you two on your sides. You groan at the movement, still experiencing those last minute tremors of your orgasm. His legs intertwine with yours, arms wrapping around you. He strokes your head, drawing you close into him as you both calm down. You sniffle and he takes this opportunity wipe the tears from your eyes.

You giggle, “Thanks, honey.” The words dampened by your sudden emotional outburst.

“Anything for you, love," he responds as he kisses the side of your forehead and moves to grab the blankets, pulling them over you two, up to your chin. You snuggle back into him, hands grasping his forearms, a mindless smile spreading across your face.

You say, “You’re not done with me yet, are you?”

He remains silent for a few seconds, before groaning into your hair. It still smells like fresh cut strawberries in the midst of all the scents filling the room.

“Only if you tell me where you hid my suppressants.”

“Than I’m never telling you!” You squeal. There ain’t no way you’re gonna give up this side of your alpha just yet.

“Hey, that’s not what you should be saying,” hey says. His voice is low, bordering on a growl.

“Sorry for not following your script," you say. And now you’re the one wearing a shit-eating grin.

“You know,” he shifts, now leaning over you and narrowing his doe eyes at you, “if you insist on acting up, then maybe I will just have to fuck you through this rut of mine.”

“I hope you do,” you say with a smirk even wider.

“’Course you do,” he grumbles, laying back down again, nose buried in your hair.

You two lay in silence until his knot goes down, and he can finally pull out. He turn you back onto your stomach and pulls the blankets back, drawing out slowly, making you moan. His cum gushes out, further eliciting moans from you.

You can feel it dripping down your the back of your thigh. Shoto watches, enjoying the sight. Though, before he’s realise it, he’s got his fingers inside of you, finger-fucking that cum back into you. You can’t help but start whimpering and moaning even louder as you feel him fingering you.

“Shoto…”

He draws his fingers back out, letting the cum drip out again. He’s tempted to slide them back into you so that no more escapes, but he refrains from doing so, knowing that you two need to talk a bit more about kids than just “Do you want kids? Yea, I want kids. Do you? Yea, sounds good.”

He clears his throat before saying, “I hope you’re ready, baby.” He wraps his hand around your waist and turns you over, onto your back. Your eyes find each other. The sun’s setting, illuminating how wet and dewy and bruised your soft flesh is.

You breathe out, smiling happily, “I’m ready.”

Introduction?!? 😱

_______________________

Hihi! This is just a little about me incase anyone wants to be my moot!

My names Cass, or you can call me Cece (a self given nickname👍). I’m fifteen! So please don’t DM me if you’re over nineteen or under fourteen!^.^

I play MHUR quite a bit.

Like I said, quite a bit (°▽°) I’m also a rapid Toga and Strike Dabi main, i for sure wanna main Ochako and Hawks more. That being said I’d also really love to make some friends who play MHUR, I’m not the greatest at it but I really wanna get some more friends on there >.<

I’ve got different mangas that I’m yet to read, but I keep wasting my money and buying more than I need(・Д・)

I enjoy a couple different anime’s— MHA, Kuroshitsuji, JJK, and Kotaro lives alone. I know it’s not a lot but it’s so hard for me to get into anime’s even if I wanna watch them, the second I start I just wanna do something else even if I wanna know whats gonna happen😭

Some characters I favour

MHA—

Dabi (Touya Todoroki)

Hawks (Keigo Takami)— I love him, he’s so babygirl coded

Mirko (Rumi Usagiyama)

Himiko toga

Ochako Ururaka

JJK-

Shoko Ieiri

Sukuna Ryomen

Utahime Iori

Choso Kamo

Yuji Itadori

Kuroshitsuji—

Vincent Phantomhive— sorry but he was SO fine.

Undertaker (Adrian Crevan)- I’ve always loved him, ever since I first watched.

Cheslock (from the Weston college arc)

Elizabeth Midford

Herman Greenhill (Weston college arc)

Some mangas I’ve got (none are full collections)—

Kuroshitsuji

Death Note

MHA

Kirby Mania

JJK

And some more<3

Im not really big on shipping but here’s some of the ships I think are cute—

Togachako

IzuOcha

MiruHawks

DabiHawks

Sukugo

Shoko X me.

Anyways, if you have any questions my inbox is open!<3 feel free to send in something there— or in dms<3

so i've been craving neito x reader fanfics lately and it's better to just keep on searching on ao3 but i thought 'why not contribute?' so i published a oneshot on ao3 here ! please check it out <3

summary: A one shot in which Monoma Neito is hopelessly in love with you. This was never the plan, and he feels stupid for feeling this way, but you've rendered him completely defenseless against you and your antics.

here is the link if you don't want to enter into it right away: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64126069

every kudos and cmnt is greatly appreciated !!

hii can i please make another request for katsuki x female reader and where reader has a stalker? and attacks her one day when she was coming home from work Katsuki realises that she is missing and searched for her and tries to find her

I was not satisfied with how this turned out:(

---

Where Are You?

The city was quiet that evening. Katsuki Bakugo had just finished his patrol and was making his way home when his phone buzzed. It was a message from you—his girlfriend. He quickly opened it.

You: “Hey, babe. Just got off work. On my way home. See you soon!”

He smirked at the message, the thought of you waiting for him warming his chest. You always sent him those little texts, a routine that he loved. But something felt off tonight.

You hadn’t replied to his last message, and it was a bit later than usual. He shook it off at first, thinking maybe you were busy. But his gut told him to check again, just in case. His instincts never failed him.

He pulled out his phone and typed another message:

Katsuki: “Yo, where are you? Everything good?”

He waited for a reply, but there was nothing. A sense of unease settled over him. His mind raced back to the odd feeling he'd had earlier that day. A conversation he'd overheard at the cafe that morning. Someone had mentioned you. A man with a weird, unsettling tone in his voice. Katsuki didn’t know why, but something in that voice triggered a sense of danger.

The sound of his phone buzzing snapped him out of his thoughts. It was a message from you.

You: “Sorry, babe. Ran into some issues. I’ll be home soon. Love you!”

Katsuki frowned. It didn’t feel right.

Something about the message was off. He glanced at the time again. You should have been home by now. His heart started pounding in his chest.

He didn’t waste another second. Katsuki stormed out of his apartment, heading towards your place. His mind was racing, and the gnawing feeling of dread made his steps faster, more frantic. He didn’t know what was happening, but he could feel that something was terribly wrong.

---

Meanwhile, you were in a completely different kind of situation.

It had been a long day at work. You’d just gotten off, glad the shift was finally over, but something felt strange. A chill ran down your spine as you made your way home through the quiet streets. It was too quiet.

You kept your pace steady, glancing over your shoulder every now and then. The man you’d seen in passing a few days ago seemed to be following you again. He wasn’t close enough to be obvious, but you could feel his eyes on you. The feeling of being watched had become all too familiar.

As you turned a corner, you quickened your pace, trying to shake the feeling of his gaze. But as you reached the next intersection, the sound of footsteps behind you grew louder. Your breath caught in your throat. Panic shot through your veins.

Suddenly, you felt a hand clamp over your mouth from behind, dragging you into an alley. Your heart raced, and you struggled against the grip, but the man was too strong. You kicked and screamed, but your efforts were in vain.

Before you could react any further, the man hissed in your ear, “You’ve been ignoring me too long, little girl.”

---

Katsuki’s pace was relentless as he raced through the streets, his mind a blur of thoughts. He felt the anger boiling within him, but there was something more—something darker. The feeling in his gut kept growing, each step amplifying his worry.

His phone buzzed again, and he pulled it out, hoping it was you. But when he saw the message, his blood ran cold.

You: “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know who they are. He… he followed me. I’m scared. Please, hurry. I’m—”

The message cut off abruptly.

“Katsuki!” he cursed, his breath ragged with panic. His eyes scanned the street, and that’s when he saw it—your bag, tossed haphazardly onto the sidewalk just ahead.

Without a second thought, Katsuki burst into a sprint, his heart hammering in his chest as he traced the path leading to where he knew you had been.

Every instinct told him something was wrong. He could feel the shift in the air, the tense energy that came with danger.

“Y/N!” he shouted, but his voice echoed in the night, swallowed by the silence. His hands clenched into fists, fury building as he continued his search. He wouldn't stop until he found you.

He turned a corner and his eyes locked on a shadow in the alley. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the man’s back, a figure looming over you.

The world seemed to slow as Katsuki’s vision turned red with rage. The man’s hands were all over you, and you were barely holding on, struggling beneath his grip.

“No one touches my girl,” Katsuki growled under his breath, stepping forward with a quiet, lethal menace.

Before the man could even turn around, Katsuki lunged. He grabbed the man by the collar, slamming him against the wall with a terrifying force.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Katsuki’s voice was low and full of threat, his eyes burning with fury.

The man struggled in Katsuki’s grip, but he was nothing compared to the fury that boiled inside the blonde hero.

“I—I'm sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!” the man stammered, but Katsuki wasn’t having any of it.

“You’ll be lucky if you leave here breathing,” Katsuki snapped, tightening his grip as he looked at you, trying to make sure you were okay.

You were shaking, your breath coming out in uneven gasps. When your eyes met Katsuki’s, a flood of relief washed over you, but the fear didn’t disappear just yet.

“I’ve got you,” Katsuki whispered, his voice softer now as he gently pulled you into his arms. “You’re safe now.”

And for the first time that night, you believed it.

hii. hope everything is well with you :)

if you’re not too busy can I request a shigaraki x online gamer friend reader. where he becomes friends with a random girl he met while playing league or something (modern au).

maybe even a meet up or something. tyyy!!

"Lagging Hearts"

Shigaraki Tomura wasn’t supposed to care about anyone online. He liked the distance. The screen, the anonymity, the safety of being just a name on a friend list. But then he queued up for a late-night ranked match in League of Legends, and everything started glitching—emotionally speaking.

He met you by chance. Your username—“Pix3lGrrl”—was the kind of cringe he'd usually block. But you locked in midlane fast, started typing callouts in team chat like a drill sergeant, and your sarcasm matched his beat for beat.

“Garen support? Wow. Peak performance,” you typed.

He smirked. Okay, maybe she’s not awful.

One game became three. Then ten. Then nightly Discord calls. You tilted like a pro, cursed like a sailor, and still somehow made him laugh when his fingers were twitching to decay the world.

“You ever stop touching your face when you’re mad?” you teased during a losing streak.

He choked on his soda. “How the hell do you know that?”

“You always stop talking right before you screw up a teamfight. It’s, like, your rage silence.”

He didn’t reply right away. He was too busy… smiling?

—

Weeks passed. He didn’t tell you who he was—what he was. You didn’t ask. It was kind of perfect. The late-night games, the trash talk, your sleepy voice when it got too late and the ranked queue became ARAMs “just for fun.” He found himself waiting for the little Discord chime that said you were online like it was a drug.

One night, after a particularly nasty loss streak, you groaned, “I need a break. Let’s just talk.”

And he did. For hours.

You made him laugh so hard his screen shook. You called him “crusty king” and he didn’t even hate it. You told him about your cat, your weird neighbor, the way your keyboard was missing the F key but you were too lazy to fix it.

He thought about telling you. About his hands. His past. His real name.

Instead, he just asked, “Wanna queue again tomorrow?”

You replied instantly. “Always.”

—

He didn't know what this was—just a gamer friend or something dangerously close to real—but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like disconnecting.

---

It was your idea to meet.

“Well, technically,” you said, “I’m being bribed with bubble tea. But yeah. Let’s meet.”

Shigaraki stared at the message for a full minute. His thumb hovered over the reply button. He’d never seen your face, and you’d never seen his. It had been months now—countless games, DMs, weird late-night rants about anime betrayals and which champions needed nerfs.

He wasn’t ready.

But he said yes anyway.

—

You picked a little gaming café downtown. Neon lights. LED keyboards. The smell of instant noodles and too many Monster cans. You wore a hoodie, same as him, and your hair was a little messier than your Discord icon implied—but it was you. He knew it immediately.

You were sitting with a boba and a Switch, tapping your foot to some lo-fi remix. You looked up and smiled.

“Crusty King?” you teased.

He almost turned around and left.

Instead, he gave a dry little laugh and slid into the seat across from you. “Pix3lGrrl. Didn’t expect you to look so… normal.”

You arched a brow. “Thanks? Didn’t expect you to look like a villain from a dystopian anime.”

He froze.

Your smile faltered for half a second, and then you recovered. “Kidding. I mean—you’ve got the vibe. Grumpy, gray hair, twitchy fingers. Kind of hot, though.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Nothing.”

You both sipped your drinks. Played a couple rounds of Smash on the café’s Switch dock. Laughed a lot. It felt almost like home. Like a weird dream.

But then you leaned in, really looked at him, and asked, “Hey… what do you do, anyway? You’ve never said.”

His hand twitched—just once. He quickly put it in his hoodie pocket. His mouth went dry.

“I… break things.”

You laughed. “Okay, edgy. What does that mean?”

He paused. Then whispered, “My name’s not really Ten.”

“Wait.” Your smile dimmed. “What?”

“I’m Tomura. Shigaraki Tomura.”

You went still.

You knew the name. Everybody did. The guy who vanished after the League crumbled. The one with a death count and a face like a warning sign.

You looked at him, really looked, and then said quietly, “And you… you play Jhin in ranked.”

He blinked. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

You smiled slowly, something tender and a little heartbroken. “You’ve got four kills, and I’m starting to think I’m one of them.”

He opened his mouth—but you held up a hand.

“I'm not running. Just… give me a sec to update my patch notes, alright?”

And then, in the same breath, you asked, “You still down to queue tonight?”

“Ashes and New Beginnings”

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Action / Romance / Angst / Fluff

TW: Mild violence, pregnancy, labor scene, emotional vulnerability

---

The mission was never supposed to go this far south.

You were only a few weeks away from your due date—not ideal for fieldwork, but you were stubborn. You could still move, still fight, and no one dared to argue when you gave that look. Not even him.

“Stay behind me,” Dabi had warned with a voice like low fire, his back shielding yours as the Pro Heroes ambushed the warehouse. “You shouldn’t have come. You know that, right?”

You smirked, placing a hand on your swollen belly. “You think I’d let you run off without me? Nice try, hotshot.”

He didn’t smile—Dabi rarely did—but the way his eyes flickered toward you said everything. He hated this. Hated seeing you like this, vulnerable and too close to danger. Hated that he couldn’t stop you… because he knew if it were him in your shoes, he wouldn’t stay behind either.

The fight erupted fast. Flames, explosions, quirks flashing in the dark. You held your own as long as you could—until it hit.

Pain.

A sudden, sharp contraction that stole the breath from your lungs. You dropped to your knees behind the crates, gripping your abdomen with a shaky gasp.

No. Not now.

“Dabi!” your voice cracked, loud enough to pierce the chaos. He turned instantly, the moment burned into memory—his eyes wide, horror dawning.

You're in labor.

Everything else vanished for him. Enemies, plans, strategy—none of it mattered anymore. He bolted to your side, catching you as you doubled over, another wave of pain tearing through you.

“You weren’t supposed to—shit—okay, okay, breathe,” he muttered, voice unsteady for once, panic creeping into every word. “You’re early. Damn it.”

“I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

He lifted you easily, cradling you against his chest, heat rolling off his skin protectively. His own flames flared wildly around him, forming a vicious barrier between you and the heroes advancing.

“She’s out. She’s done. You come any closer, I burn you all to ash,” Dabi snarled.

One look in his eyes, and none of them dared take a step.

He carried you out through the smoke and ruin like a man possessed, whispering ragged reassurances as your contractions got closer, sharper, more intense. He’d never been so afraid in his life—and he’d never felt something burn hotter than the love he felt for you right then.

---

Awesome—let’s go with Parts 2 and 3: a mix of chaotic, emotional, and a bit romantic. Dabi ends up having to deliver the baby himself at a hideout. Here's the continuation:

---

The hideout was a dump—abandoned, half-burnt, and barely standing—but it was the only place close enough. Dabi kicked the door open, cursing under his breath as he laid you down on a grimy mattress. Your face was pale, sweat clinging to your forehead, eyes dazed from pain.

“This isn’t happening,” you gasped, gripping his coat with trembling fingers. “I can’t—I don’t know what to—”

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, voice sharp but trembling. “You’re doing this. You’re strong. You’ve always been. I’ve seen you tear through enemies like nothing. This? This is nothing compared to what you’ve survived.”

You nodded, tears sliding down your cheeks, your body wracked with another contraction.

Dabi ripped off his coat and laid it beneath you. He moved like someone on autopilot—heating up a towel with his flames to sterilize it, searching the place for clean-ish water and supplies.

He had no idea what he was doing. He was a villain, not a midwife. But watching you suffer? Listening to your cries of pain and fear? That broke something in him.

“I got you, baby. Just breathe for me. I’m right here.”

He knelt between your legs, your body shaking violently, and whispered every comforting word he could think of—even though his own hands trembled like hell.

And then he saw it.

“Oh, shit. I see the head.”

---

You screamed—raw, powerful, primal. And Dabi didn’t flinch. He caught your child in his scarred hands like something sacred, eyes wide with disbelief. His flames were nowhere to be seen now—just his soft breath, ragged and stunned as he wrapped the baby up in his shirt.

“It’s a girl,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking in a way you’d never heard before.

You sobbed, partly from exhaustion, partly from overwhelming love—for the little life in his arms, and for the man kneeling beside you, the same man everyone called a monster.

Dabi leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours, his hand still shaking as he held the baby close.

“She’s got your nose,” he whispered. “Poor kid.”

You laughed weakly, grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss, your lips warm against his even in your drained state.

“Thanks for not setting the place on fire,” you murmured.

He chuckled. “I thought about it. But she’s kinda worth not burning the world down for.”

You looked up at him, your breath catching—not from pain this time, but from love.

“I want to name her Aiko,” you said softly.

Dabi blinked. “Love, huh?”

You nodded. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah… she’s got plenty of that now.”

---

Hours passed. You were asleep now—finally resting after everything your body had just been through. Your breath was even, your face peaceful in the dull light filtering through the cracked hideout window.

Dabi sat in the far corner, silent, still, cradling Aiko in his arms.

She was so small.

He held her like she was made of glass, terrified to even breathe too hard. His fingers—burnt, stitched, ruined—looked wrong against her smooth, perfect skin. But she didn’t seem to mind. She just blinked up at him, curious and calm.

“You’re not scared of me, huh?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

She blinked again.

He gave a shaky laugh. “You will be. When you’re older. When they tell you stories about Dabi the killer. The villain. The monster.”

His smile faltered. His hands tightened around the blanket.

“But your mom… she’ll tell you the truth. She always sees the truth. Even when I couldn’t.”

Aiko squirmed and let out a tiny squeaky noise. Dabi instinctively rocked her—something he’d seen in movies, not something he’d ever practiced.

“Yeah, I know. Life’s gonna be rough. You’re a villain’s kid. Maybe a hero’s too, if she has anything to say about it.”

His voice dropped lower. “But I’m gonna protect you. You hear me?”

A single tear slid down his cheek—he hadn’t cried in years. Not for himself. Not even for his past.

But this was different.

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever done right.”

Aiko yawned, stretched her hand out, and wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his.

And in that moment, for the first time in forever… Dabi felt warm.

Not from his fire.

From her.

---

“Alright, what the actual hell is that?”

Twice was the first one through the door, tripping over his own feet as he pointed at the bundle in Dabi’s arms like it was a bomb. Toga peeked over his shoulder, wide-eyed and covered in someone else’s blood.

“Is that a baby? Did you kidnap a baby? Oh my god, Dabi, I love her already—wait, did you steal her?”

Dabi gave them both a withering look, eyes dark and tired, but there was no anger—just exhaustion.

“She’s mine,” he said simply.

Silence.

Shigaraki looked up from scratching his neck raw in the corner, narrowing his eyes. Spinner froze mid-sip of his canned drink. Compress blinked like someone in a stage play who forgot their line.

“…Yours?” Shigaraki repeated slowly, voice dry. “As in—you made that?”

“Yeah,” Dabi replied, glancing down at the little girl dozing in his arms. “With her.” He nodded toward the back room where you were still recovering.

Toga’s eyes widened like saucers. “You had a baby with the pretty girl with the knives?!”

“Yep.”

“I ship it.”

Twice clapped dramatically. “Dabi’s a dad! Oh god, we’re all going to die. In a cute way.”

Shigaraki stared at the baby like she was some kind of ticking time bomb. “Can it explode?”

“No,” Dabi growled.

“…yet,” Shigaraki muttered, turning away.

Toga was already at his side, peeking at Aiko with genuine awe. “She’s so tiny. You think she’ll have your quirk?”

“Hope not,” Dabi muttered. “Not mine.”

Spinner walked over, scratching his head. “So… does this mean you're, like, settling down? Changing diapers between missions?”

Dabi scoffed. “Hardly. I still burn people for a living. I just… go home after now.”

And weirdly, none of them argued. None of them mocked him. In fact, a strange sort of hush fell over the room—a rare peace.

Toga pulled out her knife and declared, “If anyone tries to hurt her, I’ll gut them.”

Dabi looked up, eyes soft. “Thanks.”

The League didn’t understand much about love or family. But they did understand loyalty. And chaos. And revenge. So protecting a tiny, flame-born baby girl?

That… they could get behind

---

It was 3:14 a.m.

Dabi sat cross-legged on the floor of the hideout, shirtless, hair sticking up in every direction, dark circles under his eyes even darker than usual. Aiko was screaming like the world was ending, her tiny face bright red, and her little fists flailing like she was throwing punches at fate itself.

He stared at her. Then at the diaper. Then back at her.

“…I’ve blown up buildings with less stress than this.”

You groaned from the cot behind him, too sore and sleep-deprived to move. “You said you had it,” you mumbled.

“I did have it. Then she peed in my eye.”

Another wail came from Aiko, and Dabi winced like someone had shoved a knife in his ribs.

“Alright, alright, damn, we’re doing this.”

He opened a fresh diaper like it was an enemy he was about to fight. He glanced at the old one, holding it between two fingers like it might explode. “You’re lucky I love you, you little gremlin.”

You snorted.

After a solid three minutes of muttering threats at the diaper, several almost burns, and at least one moment where he looked genuinely afraid of baby wipes, Dabi somehow managed to get the new one on—crooked, but on.

Aiko immediately stopped crying.

She looked up at him with big, innocent eyes, hiccupped… and smiled.

He froze.

And for the first time in a long, long time… he smiled back.

“Okay. That was almost worth the trauma.”

He picked her up carefully, resting her tiny head against his chest. She nuzzled into his warm skin, calm now, soothed by the steady beat of his heart and the low hum of his fire.

“You’re gonna wreck me, aren’t you?” he whispered.

She gave a sleepy sigh.

“…Good. I probably deserve it.”

---

Dabi was dozing on the couch, shirtless, as usual. Aiko was perched on his chest like a sleepy little loaf, fists curled, head tucked under his jaw.

It was peaceful. Soft crackling from the fireplace. Your gentle humming in the background as you cleaned up.

And then—CHOMP.

“OW—what the hell!?”

Dabi sat up with a startled yelp, eyes wide, clutching his neck. Aiko blinked at him, innocent as ever… mouth smeared with drool and the tiniest red mark forming on his collarbone.

You leaned over, squinting.

“Is that… a hickey?”

Dabi stared at the baby. Then at you. Then back at the baby.

“She just—bit me. And sucked on my skin like some tiny mosquito demon.”

You lost it, laughing so hard you nearly dropped the bottle in your hand. “You got your first dad hickey. Officially initiated.”

“I burn people for fun, and this is what takes me out?”

Just then, Toga popped her head into the room—saw the mark on his neck and immediately let out a wolf whistle.

“Well, well, Dabi! Didn’t know you were into neck stuff.”

“It’s from the baby,” he growled.

“Sure it is,” she sang, winking.

By the time the rest of the League caught wind, rumors had spread.

Twice: “Dabi’s into bite play confirmed.”

Shigaraki: “Ew. Stop breeding.”

Spinner: “Should we get her teething rings or garlic and holy water?”

Dabi groaned, covering the mark with his hand.

But later that night, when it was just the three of you again, he looked at it in the mirror. The little bruise, round and oddly perfect. It hurt like hell.

And somehow… he loved it.

“She’s already leaving scars,” he muttered, tracing the spot with a smile. “Just like her mom.”

---

It started small.

You were feeding Aiko one afternoon—just you, her, and the peaceful hum of the hideout. You offered her a spoonful of mashed carrots with the usual sweet smile.

“Here comes the airplane—”

She stared at you. Then slapped the spoon clean out of your hand.

“…Excuse me?”

From the other room, Dabi laughed. “That’s my girl.”

You glared. “Don’t encourage her.”

But it only got worse.

Later that day, you tried again—with applesauce this time.

“No, Aiko. We don’t throw food.”

Aiko looked you dead in the eye and mumbled something that sounded a lot like:

“Sh’t.”

You froze.

“…What did you just say?”

From the couch, Dabi shouted, “What did she say?!”

“She said your favorite word.”

Dabi came striding in, picking her up with this massive, proud smirk on his face. “No way. Say it again, squirt.”

Aiko grinned. “Sh’t.”

You palmed your face. “Dabi, stop smiling.”

“I’m not! I’m—okay yeah, I am. But c’mon, listen to the attitude on her. She's feral.”

“Oh my god.”

It didn’t stop there.

By the end of the week, she had a whole little sass vocabulary going:

Glares when someone touches her snacks.

Mimics Dabi’s sighs perfectly.

Says “bruh” when her bottle falls.

And, most dangerously of all—the eye roll.

Toga was obsessed.

“She’s a tiny Dabi! But cuter. And less murder-y.”

Twice tried teaching her to say “Boom, baby!” after every fart. It worked. Too well.

Shigaraki banned her from the meeting room after she threw a pacifier at him mid-rant.

Dabi? He was beaming the entire time.

“Kid’s got fire,” he said proudly, arms crossed, scarred lip curled in a grin. “Just like her old man.”

You gave him a side-eye. “If she starts setting stuff on fire next week, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

(You both secretly loved it.)

---

It was raining.

Not the hard, violent kind that matched Dabi’s mood—just a steady drizzle outside the hideout, mist curling over cracked windows. You were curled up with a blanket, half-asleep, watching Aiko crawl around the dusty floor, babbling nonsense to herself.

Dabi leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, just watching her. He did that a lot these days—quiet, present in a way he never used to be.

Aiko picked up one of his gloves from the floor. Turned it over in her hands. Dropped it. Then looked up at him.

And said it.

“Dada.”

Silence.

The rain didn’t stop. The wind didn’t pause. But something in Dabi broke.

You sat up instantly. “Wait—did she just—?”

He didn’t move. His face had gone still, unreadable. Only his eyes gave it away—wide, full of something between shock and something too tender to name.

Aiko smiled at him like it was no big deal.

“Dada.”

Dabi walked over slowly. Dropped to his knees in front of her. She touched his cheek—right where the staples met burned skin—and giggled.

“Dada.”

He laughed. Just once. Rough, soft, stunned.

“Yeah, kid,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “That’s me.”

He pulled her close—not tight, just enough to tuck his chin over her tiny head.

You watched from the couch, a hand over your mouth, heart about to explode.

He’d been called a lot of things.

Villain. Monster. Traitor. Burner. Killer.

But Dada?

That one might’ve saved him.

---

The night was quieter than usual. The storm outside had finally slowed to a gentle patter, and the hideout was filled with nothing but the occasional crackling from the fireplace. The warmth of the flames danced across the walls, casting shadows as Dabi sat on the couch, Aiko nestled against him.

She was asleep now, her small chest rising and falling in that peaceful rhythm that made even the toughest villains pause. Dabi’s hand rested lightly on her back, the familiar weight of responsibility and love settling in his bones.

You were asleep in the other room, exhausted from the day’s chaos, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi had nothing but time.

His eyes traced the small curve of Aiko’s face—so serene, so full of life. She was perfect. His daughter. His kid. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but so right.

He hadn't realized how much he needed this—this quiet, this peace, this tiny human who somehow softened everything he’d built himself into.

Carefully, Dabi let his fingers run through Aiko’s soft hair. He didn’t even think about it—he just did it. A tender motion, a simple gesture he could barely believe he was capable of.

Then, he started humming.

It was the song you always hummed to her when she was fussy, the tune that seemed to calm her every time. A melody so soft, so gentle, it made him forget the past for a moment and just exist in the now.

Aiko stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her little hand gripping the edge of his shirt as she snuggled closer. The soft sound of her breath filled the room, the night settling in deeper.

Dabi kept humming. His voice was low and unsteady, like a fire that only flickered, but in that moment, it was full of warmth—like he was finally allowing himself to feel everything he’d kept buried for so long.

He wasn’t a perfect father. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was a good one. But right now, as Aiko slept soundly in his arms, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath, he felt something he hadn’t in years—something like peace.

Aiko shifted again, this time her tiny mouth curling into a soft smile in her sleep, as if she felt the rhythm of his heart. He kissed the top of her head, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you, kid.”

He said it so quietly, like it was something sacred, something only meant for her to hear.

And maybe she did. Maybe she always would.

Hii, can I request you do a bakugo x reader, with them risking getting caught in public doing it?…

“Can’t Wait” (NSFW, Public Risk)

It started with a look.

You were walking back from dinner with Class 1-A, a few blocks from the dorms. Everyone was laughing, teasing, full of food and energy—but Bakugo had been quiet. His hand stayed on the small of your back. His gaze? Burning.

The second your friends turned the corner ahead of you, he yanked you back into a narrow alley, shadowed and quiet except for the thrum of city lights and your own sharp inhale.

“Katsuki—what if someone sees—”

He kissed you before you could finish, hard and rough, pinning your back to the wall with his body. His hands were under your shirt in seconds, calloused fingers skimming hot across your skin.

“I’ve been wanting you all fuckin’ night,” he growled into your mouth, voice like gravel. “You think I care if someone sees you moaning for me?”

Your stomach flipped.

It was reckless. Stupid. The others could turn around, call your name, walk right past the alley. But the danger only heightened the tension. You dragged your nails down his back and kissed him deeper, harder.

His hand slid down between your legs, under your skirt, fingers teasing your underwear aside. “Already wet?”

“You’re the one who keeps whispering filthy things in my ear at dinner,” you panted.

He chuckled low in his throat, slipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right. “You like the risk, don’t you?”

You whimpered, gripping his jacket, bucking against his hand as he pressed his palm against your clit, working you faster. The distant sound of someone laughing—close.

“Katsuki—someone’s gonna—”

He kissed your neck, biting softly. “Let them.”

Your orgasm hit fast, hard, pulsing around his fingers as you gasped into his shoulder, legs shaking. He pulled away just in time to shove his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied grunt.

“Better hurry up,” he smirked. “They’ll notice we’re gone.”

You fixed your clothes quickly, trying to catch your breath as he adjusted his pants, completely unbothered.

Just as you stepped out of the alley, Mina turned around.

“There you two are!” she called, grinning. “You look… flushed.”

You smiled way too hard. “Must be the walk.”

Kaminari narrowed his eyes. “Wait… where were you guys just now?”

Bakugo slung an arm around your waist, smirking like the devil. “Getting some air.”

Your legs nearly gave out right then.

hi ash can i pls make another request? if you dont mind uh katsuki bakugo x reader where they are dating and they had a argument in the morning and he just switched off his phone for his work reader is on her way from home and feels like someone is following her-texts him but it doesnt go to him and he likes attacks reader? maybe a sad ending? you dont have to do this if you are busy :) and this is the same anon who requested the weak pregnant reader one thank you so much for doing it loved it :)

Thank you so much omg♡

And no problem with making many requests I love doing them♡ anyways I hope you enjoy♡

"Shattered silence"

Katsuki Bakugo x Reader:

The morning had been rough, filled with sharp words and silence. You and Bakugo had been arguing before he left for work. He didn’t say much, only muttered that he was turning off his phone to focus, as he often did when he was deep in his work. You, frustrated and upset, had let him go without a word, but the silence between you both was deafening. You didn’t understand why he always chose his work over talking things out.

Now, walking down the street, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following you. Your heart raced as you kept your pace steady, glancing over your shoulder every now and then, but you never saw anyone directly. The feeling lingered, though — like a shadow always just behind you, out of sight but never truly gone.

You reached for your phone, hands trembling slightly, and quickly typed out a message to Bakugo. You just wanted to hear his voice, to feel like he cared and was still there, even if it was only through a text.

“Hey, I feel like someone’s following me. I’m really scared, Bakugo… please, talk to me.”

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you hit send, but the message never went through. The phone showed that it had failed to send, the signal having been lost in the middle of nowhere. You tried again, but nothing happened.

Where are you? you thought. He always kept his phone off when he was working, but this felt different. You tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. Your anxiety started to build up, your breaths shallow as you felt eyes on you, as though someone was inching closer.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the alleyway behind you, growing louder. Your eyes darted around for anyone that could help, but there was no one in sight. The street was eerily quiet. Your heart hammered in your chest as the footsteps quickened. You started to run.

Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed your arm, pulling you back with force. You yelped in surprise, your body instantly jerking away, but the grip was too strong.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?” a voice sneered. Your stomach dropped as you looked up, only to see a pair of cruel, cold eyes staring down at you.

The world seemed to blur around you as panic set in. You struggled to break free, but the man’s grip was unrelenting, dragging you further into the shadows. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized that there was no escape.

Before you could react, the man’s grip tightened, and you could feel yourself being lifted off the ground. A scream bubbled up in your chest, but it was cut off as a sudden explosion rang out nearby. The force of the blast sent the man flying back, his hold loosening as he was thrown against the wall. The ground shook, and the distant sound of someone shouting your name reached your ears.

“Y/N!” Bakugo’s voice, raw with anger and concern, tore through the air, snapping you out of the daze.

You looked up, your breath shaky, only to see Bakugo standing there, his fists clenched, his body tense with fury. His usual scowl was replaced with a deep, unsettling worry, his eyes scanning over your trembling figure.

“Y/N… what the hell were you thinking?” His voice was harsh, but his concern was clear as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if to reassure himself that you were real.

“I— I was scared,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I… I thought someone was following me. I couldn’t reach you. Your phone was off.”

Bakugo's face softened, though a flicker of guilt crossed his features. He had been so absorbed in his work that he had failed to check on you, to make sure you were okay. He never imagined that something like this could happen.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, tightening his hold on you. “I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have… left you like that.”

But as you stood there, his warmth surrounding you, a deep sadness lingered within you. The argument this morning, the silence, the distance — it all hit you harder than it should have. The terror of almost losing him, of being so alone in that moment, gnawed at you.

“I don’t want to feel alone anymore, Bakugo,” you whispered, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. “I don’t want this distance between us. I can’t handle it.”

Bakugo’s heart twisted in his chest. He had always been so focused on his goals, on being the best, but he hadn’t realized how his distance from you — emotionally and physically — had affected you. The harshness of the morning argument and his neglect for your feelings had almost cost him everything.

“I promise, I won’t ever let you feel alone again,” he whispered, pulling you closer. But the damage was already done. The crack in your heart that had been growing for a while couldn’t be repaired with a few words.

As the minutes passed, a heavy silence settled over the two of you. You stayed in his arms, but the weight of everything hung between you, unspoken and unaddressed. Despite the closeness, the rift between you both was still there, and for now, neither of you knew how to fix it.

hi! I hope you’re well :) I’m sure if you write for denki but I had a cute request. where readers bathroom looks like the body wash aisle at Walmart and bf!denki always uses the readers expensive products whenever he comes over.

I am very well and thank you for asking♡

"Suds and sweethearts"

Denki had always been a bit of a goofball, but when it came to your bathroom, he turned into something of a "luxury product enthusiast." Your bathroom was a haven of pampering— shelves lined with an array of body washes, lotions, scrubs, and oils, each more fragrant and expensive than the last. It looked like the body wash aisle at Walmart had exploded into a carefully curated collection of indulgence.

And Denki? He couldn’t resist.

You'd be in the other room, hearing the familiar sound of the shower turning on, and you knew it was coming. The scent of lavender, or maybe eucalyptus, would soon fill the air—Denki’s signature "I’m testing out the good stuff" scent.

It started the first time he came over, and you found him standing there, surrounded by a forest of bath products, utterly mesmerized. “Babe,” he’d said, his voice full of wonder, “are these yours? Like, all of these?” His wide eyes moved from bottle to bottle, amazed by the sheer luxury of it all.

You laughed, shrugging. “Yeah, I like to spoil myself sometimes. I’m big on self-care.”

“Well,” he grinned mischievously, “you’ve got really good taste. Is it okay if I… try some?” He had that look in his eyes—the one that could talk you into anything.

The next thing you knew, he was in the shower, and you caught a glimpse of him holding your expensive lavender body wash bottle in his hands like it was a rare artifact. He'd be standing there for way longer than necessary, practically bathing in the stuff.

It became a regular occurrence—whenever Denki came over, your products vanished. He never really asked before grabbing something, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. At first, you were a little protective of your stash, but when you saw how genuinely delighted he was, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He’d emerge from the bathroom smelling like a spa, all soft and content, and you’d just smile, knowing that it was the price you paid for dating someone who had zero sense of boundaries when it came to your expensive skincare.

You couldn’t even stay mad about it, especially when he’d pull you into a hug, his hair still damp and smelling like coconut milk body wash, and whisper, “Thanks for letting me use your stuff, babe. It’s honestly so much better than what I’ve been using.”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. “You know you’re not supposed to be using all of it, right?”

Denki just grinned, wrapping his arms around you. “I mean, it’s not like I use all of it. Just a little bit… Every time I visit. You don’t mind, do you?”

Your playful sigh was all the answer he needed before you kissed his cheek, secretly enjoying the fact that your bathroom had somehow turned into his personal spa.

hii, I have a request if it’s not too much work. denki x online gf reader. all of his friends think he’s lying about her but for their spring break the reader flies from America to Japan to visit denki for the first time (reader is in a hero course in America aswell) :p

Denki x Online GF!Reader - The Surprise Spring Break Visit

It was a sunny morning in Japan, and the UA campus was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming spring break. Denki Kaminari, the class clown and the most energetic member of Class 1-A, was practically vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t stop talking about his girlfriend — someone who everyone assumed was just an imaginary online relationship.

“You guys, seriously, she’s real! She’s flying in from America! You’ll meet her when she gets here!” Denki insisted for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice bright with enthusiasm as he bounced in his seat.

The others exchanged skeptical glances. They loved Denki, but this was a bit much. Everyone knew he was a bit of a flirt, so they assumed the ‘online girlfriend’ was just another one of his harmless jokes. But Denki had insisted so many times, they couldn’t help but doubt him.

“Yeah, sure, Denki. When we meet her, will she be just as ‘real’ as your other ‘girlfriends’?” Kirishima teased, nudging him with a grin.

“Dude, I’m telling you, this is the real deal!” Denki said, a determined look on his face. “She’s coming all the way from America to meet me! You’ll see.”

The week passed by quickly, and the day of the big arrival came. Denki had been bouncing around all morning, practically shaking with anticipation. He’d made all the arrangements — from the airport pick-up to the meeting spot — and couldn’t wait for his friends to finally believe him.

Finally, the moment came. Denki stood at the airport gate, nervously glancing at the clock, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. A few minutes later, a familiar face appeared, and Denki’s heart leapt in his chest.

There she was. Y/N. His online girlfriend, looking even more stunning in person. Her warm smile was brighter than any of his expectations, and Denki rushed over to meet her, completely ignoring the stunned looks from his classmates who had tagged along.

“Y/N!” Denki grinned, running up to her. Without thinking, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground in excitement. “I can’t believe you’re finally here!”

Y/N laughed, adjusting her bag before wrapping her arms around him. “I missed you too, Denki. It’s so crazy being here… but I’m happy to finally meet you in person.”

The others, standing a bit further away, were frozen in shock. They couldn’t believe it. Denki's online girlfriend was real. They had assumed it was some elaborate joke or a figment of his imagination, but here she was, standing right in front of them, looking exactly like the photos Denki had shown them. She was even more beautiful in person.

“Okay, okay, we need to admit it. He wasn’t lying.” Kirishima said, rubbing the back of his neck, still in disbelief.

Denki's grin widened. “Told you! See, I told you she was real!”

Y/N gave a shy smile and waved at the group, her cheeks turning a light pink. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I know this must be a surprise for everyone, but I’m really happy to be here.”

As everyone started to warm up to the idea of Denki’s ‘real’ relationship, they began to ask Y/N questions. “So, you’re in the hero course back in America?” Momo asked, genuinely curious.

“Yeah, just like Denki. We met through some shared interests, and we’ve been talking ever since. He’s kind of a big deal to me.” Y/N chuckled softly, glancing up at Denki with affection.

The group couldn’t help but smile, seeing how genuine their connection was. Even though they had doubted Denki’s relationship at first, seeing how happy he was now, they couldn’t help but be supportive.

“Alright, alright. We’ll admit it. You got us, man.” Bakugo grumbled, though there was a slight hint of a smile on his face. “Just don’t get too mushy in front of us, okay?”

Denki laughed and gave him a thumbs-up. “No promises! She’s my girlfriend, I’m gonna be all over her!”

Y/N playfully punched Denki’s shoulder. “Careful, or you’ll make me regret coming to Japan!”

The rest of the day was filled with laughter, exploring, and bonding. Even though Denki’s friends had been skeptical, they could see how much the two cared for each other. The chemistry between Denki and Y/N was undeniable.

And as the day went on, everyone started to think: maybe Denki wasn’t just the class clown after all. Maybe he was more serious about this relationship than they had given him credit for.

hii, can I request a katsuki x reader. where the reader is always sleeping but still keeps up with everyone/thing.

Hii! Absolutely, that sounds like a super cute and fun dynamic—lazy but secretly competent reader♡

"Nap Queen (and the One Who Puts Up With Her)"

Katsuki Bakugou didn’t understand how you did it.

Every time he turned around, you were curled up somewhere: on the common room couch, under a shady tree, in a sunny patch on the roof, halfway under a desk in class—you were like some kind of professional napper. The class had started placing bets on how many hours of the day you'd spend asleep.

What baffled him the most, though, was that you somehow never fell behind.

He’d catch you with your head down during strategy lessons, but when Aizawa asked you a question, you'd snap awake and answer it perfectly, eyes half-lidded like you were still halfway in a dream. You aced surprise pop quizzes. You dodged blows like you had precognitive reflexes. You turned in reports early.

And it infuriated him.

“How the hell do you know what’s going on when you’re always passed the fuck out?” he snapped one day, as you blinked slowly up at him from the dorm lounge sofa, still wrapped like a burrito in your blanket.

“Hmm?” you mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I’ve got good ears… and Denki talks so loud.”

He stared at you, jaw tight. “That’s it?”

You yawned, then smiled lazily. “Also, I listen when I’m asleep.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Is for me,” you murmured, then gave a little stretch that somehow annoyed and fascinated him at the same time. “You worried I’ll surpass you in my dreams, Bakugou?”

His eye twitched. “I’ll blow you to hell in your dreams if you keep talkin’ like that.”

You chuckled and rolled over, pulling the blanket higher. “Cool. Just wake me up first.”

That damn smirk stayed in his head the rest of the day. And the next. And maybe a few after that.

“Hot Sand, Hotter Boyfriend – : Busted”

Setting: Bakugo’s dorm, late at night—door… not locked. Oops.

You didn’t mean for it to happen. Not like this.

But after a long day, some teasing kisses, and Bakugo pulling you into his room with that look in his eye—yeah, things escalated fast.

Clothes hit the floor. Your back hit the bed. His mouth hit your skin like he was starved.

He had you pinned under him now, hands holding your thighs apart as he moved between them, every deep, slow thrust drawing the kind of moans you couldn’t bite back. Sweat slicked your skin, your nails raked down his back, and his mouth was at your ear, whispering filth.

“You feel that?” he growled. “How fuckin’ deep I am inside you?”

You whimpered, gasping his name.

Then—click.

Neither of you heard the door open at first.

But you definitely heard the screams.

“WHAT THE—”

“CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT!!”

Bakugo’s head whipped around just in time to see Kirishima, Kaminari, and Mina standing in the doorway like deer in headlights, jaws on the floor.

You shrieked and grabbed the nearest blanket, yanking it over your chest while Bakugo shoved himself in front of you, completely naked and fuming.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”

Kaminari tried to cover his eyes and still managed to trip backwards out of the doorway. “I didn’t see anything—I SWEAR—except everything—I’M SORRY—”

Mina was frozen, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. I saw Bakugo’s ass. It’s sculpted.”

Kirishima yelped and slammed the door shut, voice cracking. “WHY wasn’t it locked?! WHY?!”

You were hiding your face behind Bakugo’s back, skin burning with embarrassment.

“We are never surviving this,” you whispered.

Bakugo grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m gonna murder all of them.”

“You left the door unlocked!”

“You distracted me!”

The hallway outside erupted in chaos—screaming, laughing, someone (probably Sero) shouting “They were going at it like R-rated rabbits!” and Uraraka crying, “I can’t believe I SAW that!”

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself and groaned. “Do you think it’s too late to fake our deaths?”

Bakugo looked back at you, then down at himself, and sighed. “Guess they know I’m good at my job.”

You smacked his arm. “Not. Helping.”

hey ash can i please request soemthing? a katsuki bakugo x female reader they are married and reader is like extremely weak? like physically and she got pregnant-a high risk one the type where the doctor would say to consider a abortion? something like that? you dont have to do this Just a request from a fellow follower love your works they are chaotic and love them :)

Hii mll♡

Of you can request anything I appreciate ittt♡

I hope this is up to your expectations♡

---

"Stronger Than You Know"

Bakugo had never imagined himself the marrying type—at least not back when he was the hotheaded teen with a short fuse and a tunnel vision for victory. But somehow, you had wormed your way into his life with gentle hands and soft words, the exact opposite of everything he used to think he needed.

He used to think strength was everything.

But then he married you.

You weren’t strong like him. Not in the way that counted for most people. Your body was fragile, your energy limited, and your constitution was nothing short of worrying. Some days, he’d carry you from the bed to the couch because your muscles trembled too much. He always did it without complaint, though he grumbled under his breath just to keep up appearances. You’d laugh and call him a softie, and he’d call you a brat.

But he never once resented it. Not once.

Because you were the only one who could make him feel calm. Needed. Loved.

So when you told him you were pregnant, his reaction was… complicated.

He stared at you for a full minute before the words even processed. You were sitting on the couch in one of his old shirts, fingers wringing the hem, face pale and eyes a little wet. You’d looked scared—not of him, but for yourself. For the tiny, forming life inside of you.

And he felt like the ground tilted beneath him.

You were already so delicate. The idea of you carrying a child—his child—through nine months of hellish strain made his stomach twist in fear.

Of course, the hospital visit only made things worse.

“The pregnancy is high-risk,” the doctor said, voice carefully neutral. “Your body might not handle it. If complications arise, it could be fatal… for both of you.”

You’d gripped Bakugo’s hand then. He could still feel how cold your fingers were. The doctor kept talking, listing options, risks, and the word he hated more than anything in that moment: abortion.

Bakugo didn't speak. He didn’t trust himself to.

The moment you two left the office, you waited until you were in the safety of his car to finally whisper, “Katsuki… what should we do?”

He didn’t answer right away. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“Do you… want to keep it?” he finally asked, voice low.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I want to try. Even if I’m scared.”

He looked at you for a long time. Your face was full of fear and hope, all tangled together. You weren’t strong—at least not in the way people measured it. But he had never seen someone braver.

“You’re not doing this alone,” he said, turning fully to face you. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together. I’ll be there for every damn second.”

You gave him a watery smile, and he kissed you before you could say anything else.

---

The following months were hard.

You were in and out of the hospital more times than either of you could count. Bakugo adjusted his patrol schedule, sometimes canceling it altogether just to sit beside you during check-ups. The staff got used to seeing the pro hero sitting with you, his scarred hands cradling yours, whispering quiet reassurances that didn’t match his usual brash image.

There were nights he’d sit beside your bed, wide awake while you slept restlessly. He’d talk to your belly when you were too tired to stay conscious, his voice low and steady.

“Your mom’s the toughest damn person I know, you hear me?” he’d mutter, fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “She’s stronger than any hero out there.”

Sometimes the fear crept in.

Like when you collapsed while walking across the kitchen.

Or when the doctors said your blood pressure was too high again.

Or when they prepared an emergency bag “just in case.”

But you always pulled through. Even when your body screamed and the world felt like it was stacked against you, you kept going.

Because you had a reason now. A heartbeat you heard on fuzzy monitors. A future wrapped in warmth and baby clothes folded neatly in drawers. And Katsuki’s hand, always there. Always strong. Always steady.

---

The birth wasn’t easy. It was a blur of beeping machines, sterile white lights, and a level of panic Katsuki never wanted to experience again.

They rushed you in after you started bleeding—too much, too fast.

He wasn’t allowed in the OR.

He punched a wall.

Paced like a caged animal.

Nearly lost it when a nurse asked him to “stay calm.”

But then—

A baby’s cry.

And the nurse came out.

“A girl,” she said. “She’s healthy. And your wife… she made it. She’s going to be okay.”

Bakugo didn’t remember sitting down, but he did.

Didn’t remember the tears, but they came.

When they let him in, you were pale, exhausted, barely awake—but smiling. And in your arms was the tiniest, angriest baby he had ever seen.

“She’s got your scowl,” you whispered hoarsely.

He looked down at the two of you—his whole world in one hospital bed—and something in him broke open.

He kissed your forehead.

“You scared the shit out of me, idiot.”

You laughed weakly. “Worth it?”

He looked at the baby again, who had just punched the air in protest.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, it was.”

Sunkissed Secrets – Part 2

Pairing: Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Slight Embarrassment

The situation had mostly calmed down… or so you thought.

You were still curled up on Bakugo's chest, trying to act natural while his towel remained very strategically draped across his lap. His arms held you tighter than before, more protective now—but also slightly panicked.

You could feel it in the way his fingers tapped his bicep. Bakugo Katsuki, pro at destruction, was currently losing a boss battle against his own body.

Meanwhile, the girls were definitely suspicious.

“So…” Mina started, scooting closer with a grin that spelled danger, “you two look comfy.”

“We are comfy,” you replied sweetly, trying to play it cool. “Can’t a girl lay on her boyfriend without being interrogated?”

Mina narrowed her eyes. “Mhm. Totally. No reason at all to be acting, I don’t know… weird.”

Ochaco giggled. “Y/N, you’re blushing like Midoriya after a hug.”

“Am not!”

From behind his towel fortress, Bakugo growled, “Y’all need to back off before I blow the sand out from under you.”

“That would be suspicious behavior,” Momo pointed out, ever the logical one. “And possibly destructive.”

Kirishima jogged over, surfboard under his arm. “Yo, what’s going on? Bakubro, you look like someone just kicked your puppy.”

Bakugo glared at you, as if this were somehow your fault, and you nearly snorted. You leaned down and whispered near his ear, “You know they’re never gonna let this go.”

“I hate all of you,” he muttered, cheeks redder than your swimsuit.

Unfortunately, Todoroki chose that exact moment to sit down near the group and ask, “Is there a medical reason for why Bakugo is… immobile?”

Kaminari, never one to miss a vibe, paused mid-sandcastle and shouted from a distance, “OH MY GOD, BONER ALERT!”

Chaos. Utter chaos.

You buried your face in Bakugo’s chest as he let out a loud, pained groan. The girls lost it, Mina and Jirou howling with laughter while Hagakure fell over invisible from laughing too hard.

“Deadass?!” Kaminari cried. “Bro couldn’t even handle a kiss?”

“I’M GONNA KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU,” Bakugo roared, towel flying as he sat up too fast—realizing too late that he’d just revealed the evidence in question.

You scrambled to throw the towel back over him as Kirishima burst into a full-on wheeze.

“TODOROKI, FLASH FREEZE ME,” Bakugo bellowed.

Todoroki blinked. “I don’t think that’s safe.”

You were crying from laughter at this point, holding onto your mortified boyfriend as he glared at the sun like it had betrayed him.

“Well,” you whispered in his ear, wiping a tear from your eye, “at least we know I still have an effect on you.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

You kissed his cheek anyway.

As promised! Here is a bakugo fic from the poll♡

Sunkissed Secrets

Characters: Class 1-A x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Light Romance

The sun was blazing overhead, its golden rays dancing on the ocean waves as laughter echoed across the shore. Class 1-A had finally earned a day off after weeks of intense training, and they were making the most of it with a beach trip.

Somewhere down the sand, Kaminari and Kirishima were in a heated (and mostly ridiculous) sandcastle competition. Todoroki sat under an umbrella, sipping cold juice like it was some sort of high-stakes mission. Midoriya was off with Iida collecting seashells for “strategic inventory reasons” no one really understood, and Mineta was being actively buried in the sand by Tsuyu and Jirou—at her suggestion.

Near the center of the beach, a group of girls—Mina, Ochaco, Momo, and Hagakure—were lounging on colorful beach towels, gossiping and sharing snacks.

You were stretched out on the sand, nestled comfortably on your boyfriend Bakugo’s broad, sun-warmed chest. His arm was lazily slung around your waist, and his eyes were closed behind his sunglasses, enjoying the peace. It was rare for him to look so relaxed. You smiled to yourself, heart full.

“You’re staring,” he muttered without opening his eyes.

“Can’t help it,” you replied with a grin. “You’re cute when you’re not yelling at everything.”

He cracked one eye open, scoffing. “I am cute all the time. You’re just too blind to appreciate greatness on the battlefield.”

You snorted and lifted your head just enough to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He didn’t fight it—in fact, his hand tightened slightly on your waist, lips pressing back with quiet intensity. The kiss lingered a moment longer than intended, the kind that leaves a buzz under your skin.

When you pulled back, Bakugo’s jaw clenched slightly, and his cheeks had the faintest tinge of red—not from the sun. You raised a brow, suspicious.

“…Babe?” you teased, sitting up a little. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just… stay put for a sec.”

You blinked, then felt it—his body stiffened beneath you in more ways than one. Your eyes widened slightly, then a mischievous smirk played on your lips. “Oh… did I do that?”

Bakugo groaned and tugged his towel over his lap. “Damn it, woman.”

From nearby, Mina peeked over her sunglasses. “Y/N, why do you look like you just caused a problem?”

“Don’t worry about it!” you called back, face pink but smug.

The girls exchanged glances and snickered. Bakugo cursed under his breath, dragging you closer so he could bury his face in your neck.

“If anyone says a word,” he murmured, voice low and threatening but laced with affection, “they’re getting blasted into next week.”

You giggled and rested your head back on his chest, heart fluttering.

Best. Beach. Day. Ever.

"Operation: Loopy"

You were a strong, independent aspiring hero. You’d faced villains, explosions, and Bakugo’s screaming. But none of that prepared you for the wildest opponent yet…

…a wisdom tooth extraction.

You blinked awake, mouth stuffed with gauze, brain foggy, and vision blurry. The fluorescent lights above you hummed like a villain’s theme music. Was this Tartarus?

“She lives!” a dramatic voice shouted. That was—oh god—Denki Kaminari, filming you on his phone.

“GET THAT CAMERA OUTTA MY EYE SOCKET!” you bellowed. Or at least, you thought you bellowed. It came out more like: “Geff dat camma outta my faysalkit.”

Mina popped into view, laughing hysterically. “Girl, you sound like you’re summoning demons!”

You tried to sit up. “Iz dis… is dis my quirk? Am I… a duck?”

“Honestly? Maybe,” said Kirishima, gently pushing you back down. “You’re being super unbreakable right now, though. Respect.”

You squinted at him. “You got… rocks for skin. Are you okay? Like emotionally?”

“Wow, even under anesthesia, she checks in on us,” Tsuyu said calmly from the foot of the bed. “That’s kinda sweet.”

“I love all of you,” you mumbled dramatically, reaching for Todoroki’s face. “Especially you, Mr. Ice-and-Fire Cream Sandwich…”

“…I’m gonna pretend that was a compliment,” Todoroki muttered, letting you poke his cheek with your numb finger.

Bakugo, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, muttered, “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s a disaster.”

You gasped. “You take that back, Kacchan! I’m a beautiful disaster.”

The gauze puff in your mouth fell out mid-monologue and Denki nearly dropped his phone laughing. “We’re keeping that. That's going in the group chat AND your graduation video.”

Finally, the nurse arrived to check on you, only for you to gasp and shout, “WAIT. AM I STILL A DUCK?!”

“No, sweetie. You're not a duck.”

“...Disappointing.”

Question would you do a class 1-b of the explosive love or is it truly over? (my lungs have been full of laughter from it all)

Explosive Love: Part 7 – Class 1-B’s Babysitting Disaster

A/n, I added jiro bc, why not🫡

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Class 1-B and Their Unique Babysitting Experience

Genre: Chaos, Crack Comedy, Baby Gas Wars

Summary: After hearing about the legendary struggles of Class 1-A, Class 1-B believes they can handle things way better. They don’t need a plan—just confidence. Spoiler: They were wrong. Very, very wrong.

---

“We’ve got this!”

Kendo, confident as ever, waved her hand as she stared at the baby in Kirishima’s arms. “Class 1-B doesn’t need a fancy strategy. We’re heroes in training. This is nothing!”

Tetsutetsu pumped his fist in the air. “Yeah! We’re tough enough to handle anything!”

“You guys sure about this?” you asked, looking at your baby, who was already cooing and glaring in their direction.

“Totally! We’ve got teamwork! We’ve got brains!” Kendo grinned, a little too widely. “Let’s do this!”

Kirishima turned to you and whispered, “Should we warn them?”

You shook your head. “Let them learn the hard way. We survived this chaos. They will, too.”

---

T+5 Minutes:

The plan was simple: Kendo would handle the baby while the others prepared snacks and games.

“Alright, little one!” Kendo smiled down at the baby. “Ready for a fun day?”

The baby gurgled and farted.

“Hmm,” Kendo raised an eyebrow, but she pressed on. “That’s a little... unexpected. No biggie, though.”

PFFFT.

The others exchanged nervous glances.

“That was... powerful,” Ibara murmured.

Kendo, ever the optimist, ignored the baby’s warning signs and decided to try a gentle lullaby. “Hush little baby...”

PHBRRRTT.

Kendo paused, her smile faltering.

“That one had vibration,” Ibara noted, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” Kendo said, trying to keep her cool. “Maybe she’s just gassy. No big deal. Just... relax.”

---

T+12 Minutes:

The whole team was huddled in the living room now. Kendo was still holding the baby, though the team had taken up defensive positions.

Manga began sketching diagrams of escape routes. “I think we need a plan B... and C... and maybe D.”

Tetsutetsu, trying to impress, stood by with a bottle of milk. “Maybe this will help calm her down! I’ve got this!”

The baby eyed him suspiciously.

PFFFT.

Tetsutetsu jumped back like he’d been hit by a rocket. “WHAT THE HELL?!” he yelped, clutching the bottle like a shield.

Kendo sighed. “Okay. So, we’re not handling this as smoothly as I thought.”

---

T+22 Minutes:

Jurota was in charge of distracting the baby with toys while Kendo attempted a strategic diaper change.

“Jurota, you’ve got this, right?” Kendo asked, holding up a toy rattle. “She’s really into sound, so just—”

Before she could finish, the baby farted again. This time, it was a long one.

Jurota, who had been holding the rattle, dropped it and quickly backed away.

“I didn’t sign up for this! I thought it was just a normal baby!” Jurota cried, his face pale.

“I swear she’s aiming for me,” Tetsutetsu shouted from behind the couch. “I feel the pressure!”

---

T+35 Minutes:

The room was now a war zone.

Kendo, the ever-hopeful leader, was sweating. “We need to regroup,” she muttered. “We need... We need a strategic intervention!”

The baby, sensing weakness, let loose.

PFFFT

PBRRRRTTT

PBBT-TSSSSSS...

Kendo held her hands up. “Okay! We need a team effort! Shoji, you try distracting her with your extra arms. Ibara, you handle the snacks. Jurota, keep it together!”

Ibara carefully arranged some snacks. “I don’t think snacks are going to help this situation.”

“I’m gonna pass out,” Jurota groaned. “Is she cursed? Is this a curse?!”

Meanwhile, Jiro was completely overwhelmed. “Guys, I don’t have a soundproof speaker for this level of... chaos.”

Manga finally gave up and wrote: “Subject: baby. Threat Level: Explosive.”

---

T+45 Minutes:

Kendo had lost all hope.

“I’m sorry, I was too optimistic,” she muttered.

The baby looked up at her with big, innocent eyes and let out one final, massive fart.

Everyone in the room flinched.

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Tetsutetsu yelled, running toward the door. “THIS IS HELL!”

“We... we didn’t even try the baby wipes,” Kendo said softly, defeated.

---

Final Tally:

Kendo: Crushed by baby gas.

Tetsutetsu: Traumatized and refuses to even look at a bottle.

Manga: Analyzed the situation, concluded they had all made a terrible mistake.

Shoji: Vowed never to babysit again.

Jurota: Physically and emotionally drained.

Ibara: Retired from all babysitting duties.

Jiro: Still recovering from the sonic levels of flatulence.

Momo: Watching from the sidelines, unaffected, with a notebook full of new inventions for future diaper duty.

---

When you and Kirishima returned, you found Class 1-B sprawled on the floor, completely broken.

Kendo weakly raised a hand. “She’s... a powerhouse.”

“She’s a menace,” Tetsutetsu whimpered.

“And we’re never doing this again,” Manga finished, his face still pale.

The baby, in your arms, giggled.

Kirishima smiled warmly, “Good job, everyone! It’s a learning experience!”

You nodded. “Yeah, let’s never do this again.”

“Attack of the Morning Hair: Y/N vs. Gravity”

Or: The Day Her Hair Committed a War Crime

---

It started like any other peaceful morning in the UA dorms. Birds were chirping. Kaminari was already screaming because he shocked himself trying to toast bread. The usual.

Then came her.

The common room door swung open with the force of divine judgment, and in stumbled Y/N — half-asleep, wearing oversized socks, a hoodie that probably wasn’t hers (possibly Aizawa’s??), and…

Her. Hair.

Complete chaos.

Her bangs were standing completely straight up, like they’d seen something horrifying and never recovered. The rest of her long hair was sticking out in every direction, defying physics like it had just fought off a tornado and won.

It wasn’t just messy.

It was sentient.

Sero spat out his cereal. “WHAT IN THE—are you okay?!”

Y/N blinked, bleary-eyed, gripping a mug with nothing in it.

“…No.”

Bakugo actually paused mid-toast-chewing. “The hell happened to you?”

“I slept wrong.”

“That’s not sleep. That’s a spiritual possession,” Jirou muttered, genuinely concerned.

Todoroki tilted his head. “Is it supposed to… be like that?”

Y/N scratched her head, making it worse. A piece of hair slapped her in the face. “I don’t know. It was normal last night. Then I woke up and looked in the mirror and it was like—”

She held up her mug like a Shakespearean actor.

“—I HAVE SEEN THINGS. I HAVE BEEN THROUGH BATTLES.”

Mina was wheezing. “Girl, your bangs are standing straighter than Iida’s moral compass.”

“I thought it was a bird nest at first,” Kaminari whispered to Kirishima. “I almost offered her sunflower seeds.”

Midoriya approached gently, like she might explode. “D-Do you want help detangling it?”

“I think it’s sentient now,” Y/N muttered. “If you touch it, it might bite.”

“I bet Present Mic’s hair bowed in respect when it saw yours,” Sero added.

Y/N slowly turned her head, her bangs refusing to move like a stiff wind couldn’t touch them. “They said if your hair touches the ceiling, it’s good luck.”

Momo was trying not to laugh but failed. “What ceiling? You’ve breached airspace. You’re legally an aircraft.”

Then—Midnight walked in.

She stopped in her tracks. Stared. Then, with the most serious voice she could manage:

“…You look like the final boss of a shampoo commercial gone wrong.”

Y/N raised one eyebrow. “Or the main character of an edgy anime where my quirk is just being really dramatic.”

“Name it,” Kaminari begged. “Name the anime.”

“‘Frizz: The Reckoning.’”

Bakugo started laughing so hard he had to turn around. “I take it back. You’re not a villain. You’re just unholy.”

“Should I put it in a bun?” Y/N asked, attempting to gather the chaos.

“No,” Todoroki said immediately. “You should document this. Scientists need to study it.”

---

One Hour Later…

Her hair was finally tamed with the combined effort of Momo’s entire salon set, six clips, three bobby pins, and a prayer.

But the legend lived on.

A photo of “Morning Y/N” became the new meme in Class 1-A’s group chat, complete with captions like:

“Quirk: Bedhead Beast Mode”

“Power level: Over 9000 follicles of fury”

“Local teen scares away villains with sheer hair volume”

“Bakugo’s explosions fear HER now”

---

The End…?

(Or is the hair still out there… waiting… rising again at the next 7AM wakeup call?)

"Secret’s Out"

Edgeshot prided himself on precision—both in the field and in life. He had slipped in and out of the hospital with the skill only the #4 Pro Hero could muster, careful not to attract attention. The media didn’t know. The commission didn’t know. Not even his closest colleagues.

And that’s how he liked it.

This was his peace—his sanctuary with you and your newborn son. And he wasn’t ready to share that with the chaos of the hero world.

Unfortunately, fate—and Present Mic’s big mouth—had other plans.

---

It started innocently enough. A casual patrol meeting at the agency. The usual crew—Endeavor, Mirko, Best Jeanist, Hawks, and of course, Present Mic—sat around the table throwing back caffeine like it was oxygen.

Edgeshot stood at the edge, arms folded, face unreadable as always. Calm. Controlled.

Until Hawks strolled in late, twirling a familiar beanie in his hand.

"Yo, Shinya," Hawks said with a smirk, holding up the tiny gray hat with a small embroidered duck. "You, uh, drop this?"

Time stopped.

Edgeshot's eyes flicked to the beanie. His son’s beanie.

"...Where did you get that?" he asked, voice perfectly flat.

"I was flying by the hospital yesterday. Saw a nurse wave it around outside the window. Said someone left it. Had a tag inside that said ‘Shin Jr.’," Hawks said with an exaggerated shrug. "Figured it was a sidekick or... surprise, surprise?"

The room went silent.

Then:

"No way," Mirko laughed, sitting up straight. "Edgeshot has a baby?!"

Best Jeanist narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Hmm... That would explain the recent increase in tactical leave. And the softer demeanor."

"You’ve been smiling lately," Endeavor grumbled, clearly offended by the idea of anyone having joy.

Present Mic practically leapt out of his chair. "OH MY GOD, SHINYA'S A DAD?!" he howled. "WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME?!"

Edgeshot, surrounded and betrayed by a single forgotten beanie, let out a long sigh through his nose.

"...Yes," he said quietly. "I have a son. His name is Ren. And I’d prefer to keep it private."

The teasing exploded instantly.

"Uncle Jeanist has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?" Jeanist mused.

"I CALL GODMOTHER!" Mirko yelled, punching the air.

"Does he have wings like me?" Hawks teased, tossing the beanie back.

Present Mic was already brainstorming a baby shower playlist.

Edgeshot stared into the middle distance, wondering if he could sew his vocal cords into a noose.

---

Later that night, he returned home, your baby curled peacefully on his chest as he recounted the day’s chaos.

"They know now," he murmured to you, gently stroking your son’s head.

You laughed softly, brushing hair from his face. "You knew they’d find out eventually."

"I was hoping for at least six months," he said with mock despair. "Now Jeanist’s talking about matching denim for toddlers."

You snorted. "Better than Endeavor suggesting fireproof diapers."

He smiled—soft and small—and leaned his head against yours. In the background, your son stirred and sighed, clutching the edge of Edgeshot’s hero cape like it was his whole world.

Let them tease. Let them laugh.

Because now they knew exactly what he was fighting for.

"Coughing Crisis: A Heroic Interruption"

It was one of those days at U.A. High.

Everyone was gathered in the common room, the mood grim. Aizawa had just finished debriefing the students on a potential new threat—some villain group with a name so edgy it sounded like they were formed in a Hot Topic parking lot.

All Might stood solemnly, arms crossed. "This is no joke. The League of Villains may be making a comeback."

Bakugo scowled. "Tch. Let 'em try. I'll blow 'em to hell."

Midoriya was furiously scribbling notes, mumbling strategy ideas. Todoroki looked like he was calculating the villain’s power levels with sheer brainwaves. Even Kaminari was managing to look serious for once.

Then, just as the room hit peak intensity—

"KHHHHHHHHHH–KAHHHHHHHH–HHHKHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Everyone's heads whipped around.

It was you. Red-faced. Eyes wide. Wheezing. Coughing. Dying, possibly.

"OH MY GOD SHE’S CHOKING!" Mina screamed, knocking over a chair in her rush.

"I'm not trained for this!" Kaminari panicked, spinning in a circle like a confused Roomba.

Bakugo: "SOMEONE GET HER A DAMN WATER BEFORE SHE ASPHYXIATES AND DIES IN THE MIDDLE OF A STRATEGY BRIEFING!"

Midoriya already had a water bottle in your mouth and was nervously patting your back with the intensity of a malfunctioning massage chair. "Are you okay?! Do you need—wait, what's your quirk again? Can it fix this?! No, wait, that's not how lungs work—"

"I—I just—" you gasped between coughs, one hand in the air like you were accepting an Oscar. "I inhaled a chip wrong."

There was silence. Like, dead silence.

Then Kirishima, voice full of genuine awe: "Damn. She really said 'crunch' and almost flatlined."

Bakugo facepalmed so hard it echoed. "We're out here trying to save the world and this extra’s getting taken down by a Lays."

All Might turned away and coughed into his hand to hide his laugh. It didn’t work. Present Mic wasn’t even hiding it—he was already on the floor, crying.

You gave a thumbs up with one hand, the other still clutching your water bottle like it was your emotional support beverage. "Still alive. Kinda."

Todoroki blinked. “That was the most dramatic thing I’ve seen all week. And I watched Bakugo punch a microwave.”

“IT SHORT-CIRCUITED FIRST!” Bakugo yelled.

---

And from that day forward, every time there was a serious meeting, someone made sure to have water on hand.

You, the girl who lived through The Chip Incident, had earned your spot among heroes.

But also maybe needed to chew more carefully.

Can you make a fanfic that Reader is married to Bakugo and that she's pregnant. And that bakugo's parents are going to sleep over for the past next days due to the due date being so close. Bit midway the dinner, her water breaks. Or that in the middle of the night she gets up to get a glass of water because she's thirsty, and Mitsuki walks down a bit after her. And scares Reader, making her drop the glass of water to the ground. And it makes it look like her water broke, but it didn't. And then like 2 minutes after the rest of them come downstairs due to the noise, and think that her water broke, but Mitsuki reassures them that reader just dropped a glass of water, But then Just as she says "Water" Reader's water actually breaks.

Water, Water Everywhere

It was a peaceful evening at the Bakugo household. The warm glow of the kitchen lights illuminated the room where Bakugo and his wife, the reader, sat with his parents. The two had invited Mitsuki and Masaru over for the night—mostly because the due date for their first child was fast approaching. Bakugo wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type, but he was fiercely protective of his wife and wanted to ensure she had all the support she could get, even if it meant tolerating his parents' presence for a few days.

Reader was sitting comfortably beside Bakugo, resting her hand on her growing belly. The baby kicked gently as she absentmindedly traced circles on her bump. She couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed; the due date was coming closer and closer, and it seemed like everyone around her was holding their breath in anticipation.

“Do you need anything, sweetie?” Mitsuki’s voice cut through the air like the comforting warmth of tea. She was a little too excited about the upcoming birth.

“I’m good, just a little tired.” Reader smiled at her, the exhaustion clear in her eyes but her tone light.

Mitsuki’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she quickly pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and set it down in front of Reader. “Stay hydrated, my dear. It’s important.”

"Yeah, don't make me worry," Bakugo grumbled from his seat across from them. "I swear, if anything happens to you, I’ll—"

“Don’t finish that sentence, Katsuki,” Mitsuki interrupted, rolling her eyes as she gently swatted her son’s arm.

They all chuckled, and the evening continued on, filled with lighthearted conversations and the gentle clink of plates and silverware. But as the night wore on, Reader's fatigue began to catch up with her. She stood up slowly, excusing herself as she made her way toward the kitchen. She was parched. The baby was pressing against her stomach in a way that made her feel like she couldn’t drink enough water.

She quietly filled a glass and took a long sip, leaning against the counter for a moment as she tried to steady herself. Her body was heavy, and the baby’s movements felt more intense than usual. Just as she was about to turn around, she heard soft footsteps coming from behind her.

Startled, she spun around, the glass of water slipping from her hand and shattering on the floor.

"Ah!" she yelped, hands flying to her mouth in surprise.

Mitsuki, who had entered the kitchen right behind her, blinked in confusion. She hadn’t expected to see her daughter-in-law quite so jumpy. “Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

The crash had been loud enough to stir everyone else upstairs, and within moments, Bakugo and his father appeared at the doorway of the kitchen.

“What the hell was that noise?” Bakugo growled, his voice sharp and full of concern. His eyes landed on the glass shards and the spilled water, and his posture immediately tensed. “Did… did your water break?”

Reader froze, her hand still clutching her chest as she stared at the mess on the floor. “I… I don’t think so. It’s just water.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just—” Masaru started, but Mitsuki held up a hand, cutting him off.

“Calm down,” she said, her voice reassuring but firm. “She just dropped the glass. Nothing to worry about. Right, dear?”

Reader nodded, though a small part of her felt a tiny pang of doubt. Had she actually felt something else? Was it possible?

But as Mitsuki opened her mouth to finish her explanation, Reader’s body tensed up again, and the unmistakable warmth of amniotic fluid began to trickle down her legs.

Mitsuki’s eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god… Did you just—?”

Before anyone could react, Bakugo’s eyes snapped to his wife’s face, then quickly down to her legs. His expression was a mixture of panic and disbelief. “You—your water just broke!” His voice cracked slightly, and it was the first time she’d ever heard him sound genuinely concerned.

“I... I think it did,” Reader said with a shaky breath, her voice betraying her calm exterior.

“Okay, okay,” Mitsuki said, suddenly all business. “Don’t panic. We need to get you to the hospital. Right now.”

Bakugo immediately rushed to his wife’s side, lifting her into his arms with ease. His usual tough exterior was momentarily cracked as he whispered against her ear, “I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Masaru, who was just trying to keep up with the situation, turned to his wife, looking both panicked and impressed. “This is really happening, huh?”

Mitsuki chuckled softly. “Don’t just stand there, Masaru! Get the bags ready, we’re going to be grandparents soon!”

As the chaos unfolded, Reader couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “Well… I guess we don’t need a dramatic entrance after all.”

And with that, Bakugo rushed his wife toward the door, eager to finally meet their baby—though he was pretty sure he was going to need a lot of coffee to survive the night.

Can you make a fanfic about class 1A, but it's Omegaverse? Like fantasy too. And reader is the only Omega. And that they have tails and ears. You can choose yourself what animals represent each secondary gender.

''Instincts Unleashed"

The wind howled through the trees, its chill biting at your skin, but the warmth from the bustling students of Class 1-A kept you grounded. Today was different. Today, you could feel it—an undercurrent of change, something stirring in the air, beneath the surface.

You had always been the only Omega in your class, and even in a world where quirks and powers were as common as the very air they breathed, being an Omega was still a rarity. Most people thought of you as fragile, but they had no idea what it truly meant to live in a world where instincts ran deep, and your body was constantly at odds with your desires.

You had animal features that set you apart from the others: a pair of soft fox ears perched atop your head and a long, sleek tail that swayed behind you, a constant reminder of your primal side. Your scent was subtle but alluring, a combination of wildflowers and earthy musk, and it had always been a source of fascination for your classmates.

Today, however, there was something more—something deep within you that made your senses sharper, your instincts wilder.

---

It was lunchtime, and Class 1-A had gathered in the common room to eat. As you sat by the window, quietly nibbling on your lunch, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle glances your classmates sent your way. They tried to hide it, but the way their noses flared or their postures stiffened didn’t go unnoticed by you.

"Hey, [Y/N], are you alright?" Midoriya’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his wide eyes full of concern.

You smiled softly at him, though there was a tension in your chest that you couldn’t shake. “I’m fine, Izuku. Just… feeling a little strange today.”

Bakugo, who was sitting across from you, snorted. "Quit being so dramatic. You’re fine, right?" His voice was gruff, but there was something strangely soft in his gaze. You weren’t sure if it was his natural alpha dominance coming through, or if it was just concern disguised as irritation.

But you could feel it too, Bakugo. You could feel the subtle shift in the air around you, the growing tension, the unmistakable presence of rut approaching.

---

As an Omega, the instinct to submit during rut was something that couldn’t be ignored. It was natural, and while you had never experienced it firsthand before, you could feel it stirring deep within your core. The closer you got to the day, the more your body reacted to the alpha pheromones in the air, the more your tail twitched in response to their presence. It was always a silent, unspoken bond between alphas and omegas—an instinct that only became stronger as the rut drew nearer.

You could feel their eyes on you now, and it wasn’t just because you were the only Omega—they could smell it, too. The pheromones you released were subtle, but to them, they were like a beacon. Each of the alphas in the room was aware of your presence, and they were struggling to keep their instincts in check.

You turned your head to see Todoroki's eyes narrow slightly, his sharp gaze flickering from the corner of his eye to your face. He was a rare alpha, a dual-quirked one with the power of ice and fire, and his presence was both soothing and intense. His left side was the fire side, often tempered and controlled, while his right side, the ice, was always more relaxed, colder. But right now, you could see the flame in his eyes—a sign that his instincts were flaring.

The temperature in the room seemed to rise, despite the coolness outside, and you felt the heat of it press against your skin, making your breath quicken. You stood, trying to compose yourself.

“I think I need some fresh air,” you mumbled, barely able to focus on your words as you headed toward the door.

Before you could step outside, you felt someone close behind you, their presence undeniably strong. Bakugo’s voice broke the tension, low and gravelly. “Where do you think you’re going, [Y/N]?”

You froze, your tail twitching as the sharp scent of his alpha pheromones hit you hard. It wasn’t just the usual arrogance you were used to from Bakugo. No, it was something primal. Something that made your heart race and your body pulse with heat.

“Bakugo…” you began, but your voice wavered, a shiver running through your spine.

“Stop acting like you’re the only one who can feel it,” he growled softly, stepping closer to you. His hand reached out, lightly brushing the tip of your tail, making you gasp and step back instinctively. His touch was almost too much to bear. “We all know what’s coming. Don’t try to run from it.”

Todoroki’s voice was colder, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Bakugo, don’t push them.”

You looked between the two of them, your mind clouded with the rising pressure of your instincts. The scent of fire and ice mixed with your own, the pheromones creating a storm in the room that made everything feel so much more intense. It wasn’t just the rut—it was something deeper, something more primal than any of you had expected.

“I—I don’t know if I can control it,” you whispered, your fox ears flattening against your head. “This… this feeling inside me, it’s getting stronger.”

Your tail was swishing nervously, caught between the instincts to flee and the urge to stay close to the alphas. You could feel it now, the pull of your Omega instincts, calling out to their dominant presence.

“I won’t let you run away,” Bakugo snarled, his eyes narrowing, the heat of his alpha aura almost suffocating. “You don’t get to hide. Not this time.”

The air between you crackled with tension, and suddenly, everything felt so much more real. The ruts, the pheromones, the undeniable urge to bond—everything was rushing toward a breaking point.

You closed your eyes, your head spinning with conflicting emotions. "I can't…" you breathed.

Before you knew it, you were caught between the two alphas, each with their own distinct scent that threatened to overwhelm you. The weight of their presence, their alpha nature, sent a thrill through your body, and it was impossible to ignore.

But then, a third presence made itself known.

“Enough,” a smooth, calming voice interrupted. “This isn’t the way.”

You opened your eyes to see Todoroki stepping forward, his calm and measured demeanor cutting through the intensity. “We need to control ourselves. [Y/N] is right to be cautious. But we will help them, not push them.”

Bakugo didn’t like it, but he huffed, the tension in his posture easing, though the fire in his eyes never quite dimmed.

You exhaled a shaky breath, feeling your heart rate slow, but the storm inside you hadn’t passed. The rut was coming, and you could feel it—the alphas' instincts, your own, all pulling in the same direction.

And you, the only Omega, were the center of it all.

“Milk Meltdown”

Bakugo x Fem!Reader + Daughter Chaos + Newborn Baby

Genre: Humor, Family, Fluff

Warning: Embarrassment levels are HIGH

---

You had just settled into the rocking chair, your newborn daughter latched onto your boob like it owed her money.

It was peaceful. Quiet. Almost too quiet.

Cue your four-year-old, stomping into the room like she owned the place, holding a suspiciously empty juice box.

“MOMMY!” she gasped. “IS SHE EATING YOU?!”

You blinked. “What?”

She pointed, eyes wide in betrayal. “THE BABY! SHE’S EATING YOUR BOOB!”

Bakugo, walking past with a burp cloth, froze in place like a dead NPC.

“She’s not eating me, honey,” you tried to say calmly, even though your soul had left your body from secondhand embarrassment. “It’s called breastfeeding.”

Your daughter blinked. “Like...with milk?!”

You nodded. “Yes. Mommies make milk for babies. It’s how they eat before they can have real food.”

She stared. Then stared harder.

“So you're a cow now?”

Bakugo wheezed from behind the couch.

You glared at him. “Do not laugh. I swear to God.”

He coughed into his fist. “Nope. Not laughing. Totally serious.”

Your daughter looked suspicious. “So when I was a baby, I drank from your boobs too?”

You nodded.

She screamed like she was in a horror movie.

“WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS?! I THOUGHT I JUST ATE APPLESAUCE!”

Bakugo was crying now. Fully crying.

“I’m never drinking milk again,” your daughter declared. “Ever. Never ever.”

“Good,” Bakugo said. “More for the baby.”

She turned to him, dramatic as ever. “Daddy, are your boobs full of milk too?”

You both stared.

Bakugo went redder than his hero costume. “No. No, they are not. And never will be.”

“But you got big ones,” she said, poking his chest.

You immediately whispered, “Rip, bro.”

Bakugo looked like he needed a support group.

---

Later that night…

Bakugo was laying face-down on the couch. “She called me a milk tank.”

“She’s just confused,” you said, cradling your newborn.

“She moo’d at me.”

“She’s four.”

He sat up. “I’m buying a book. No. A chart. A PowerPoint. I’m explaining everything before she thinks I lay eggs next.”

You snorted. “Go ahead. She still thinks babies come out of bellybuttons.”

He froze. “...I need a beer.”

Can you make a story like the one where Mitsuki walked in on reader and Katsuki? <33

"Ground Zero, Meet Grounded"

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Rating: Spicy / NSFW themes (18+) / Humor / Mild embarrassment

---

The second his bedroom door slammed shut behind you, Katsuki’s lips were already on yours — all heat and hunger, like he’d been starving all day and you were the only thing on the menu.

“God, I needed this,” he growled against your mouth, hands gripping your hips like you’d disappear if he let go. His body was hot — hotter than usual — like he was running on adrenaline and teenage testosterone.

“You’re so impatient,” you whispered, breathless already as he pushed you back toward his bed.

“You wore that fuckin’ skirt on purpose.”

You smiled, smug. “Maybe.”

He groaned, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth. One hand slipped under your shirt, calloused fingers brushing your bare skin. You barely made it to the edge of the bed before he practically tackled you onto it, his mouth never leaving yours for more than a second.

His weight, his heat, the way he kissed you like he had something to prove — it had your heart pounding and thighs clenching.

“You know how much I’ve thought about this today?” he muttered, voice low and rough as his mouth trailed down your neck. “Couldn’t even focus in training. Fuckin’ Deku almost got a hit in.”

“Oh no,” you teased. “Not Deku.”

He growled and bit your collarbone just hard enough to make you gasp. “You’re such a brat.”

Your laugh turned into a soft moan when his hand slid up your thigh, under your skirt, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear. “Look who’s talk—”

The door burst open.

“Katsuki, dinner’s—”

Mitsuki Bakugo’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

You froze. Katsuki froze.

“OH MY GOD.”

A beat.

Then:

“MOM, GET OUT!”

Mitsuki was already turning on her heel, shrieking down the hallway. “MASARU! YOUR SON IS DEFILING SOMEONE’S CHILD IN HIS ROOM!”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, mortified, trying to pull your shirt back down and find where the hell your dignity went.

Katsuki looked like he wanted to die. Or explode the entire house. Possibly both.

“I’m gonna burn this whole fuckin’ place to the ground.”

“So We’re Just Gonna Pretend That Didn’t Happen?”

Or: The Morning After Y/N’s Brain Went Rated R in HD

---

The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. The UA dorm was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

Y/N strolled into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and a shirt that said “Unbothered. Hydrated. Inappropriate.”

The moment she entered, everyone fell silent.

Mina sipped her smoothie too fast and choked. Kaminari avoided eye contact like she was a tax collector. Momo looked like she had spent the night praying.

Iida actually stood up and saluted her.

Y/N blinked. “...Why do you all look like I committed war crimes?”

“You did,” Jirou said, deadpan.

“You said things,” added Uraraka, blushing furiously.

Y/N grinned. “What, I spoke truth. That movie scene was art. Michelangelo could never.”

“YOU CALLED HIM THE ‘BUFFET OF SIN’,” Kaminari yelled, dramatically flopping on the table.

“‘Marriott of Sin,’ actually,” she corrected. “Don’t misquote my genius.”

Bakugo entered the room, took one look at her, and immediately U-turned out.

“Ohhh no you don’t!” Y/N called after him. “You ran from the boat scene like it personally attacked you!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

“He’s flustered,” Kirishima whispered.

“‘Flustered’ is generous. Man’s one more spicy scene away from spontaneously combusting.”

Aizawa entered mid-sentence, wearing sunglasses and carrying two coffees.

“If any of you say the word ‘buffet’ today, I’m deducting hero points.”

Y/N raised a hand. “Does it count if it’s in context—”

“NO.”

---

Later That Day – In Class

Todoroki turned to Y/N quietly.

“…You said that if your partner doesn’t make you ‘reconsider religion’—what did that mean?”

Everyone around them stopped breathing.

Y/N turned slowly, sipped her water like it was tea, and said:

“It means, Shoto… that there’s a type of intimacy that feels like you got spiritually suplexed by an angel. And you ascend a little. Like… you see your ancestors clapping.”

Todoroki nodded seriously. “That sounds… intense.”

“It’s the goal, my guy.”

“Is that a normal expectation?”

“For me? Absolutely. If I’m not crying and making dolphin noises, what are we even doing?”

From behind them, Jirou whispered, “I need a therapist and a new school.”

---

Lunch Time – Revenge Plots & Regrets

Bakugo finally confronted her while they were eating lunch.

“You just had to run your mouth, didn’t you?”

Y/N blinked innocently. “I run my mouth all the time. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“In front of everyone?! While the screen was still fogged up?!”

“Would you rather I waited until after the credits and did a full analysis?”

He glared. “If I ever hear the word ‘spine is decorative’ again—”

“Say it and I’ll Venmo you $5.”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“I’m an agent of chaos with a subscription to bad decisions.”

Kirishima whispered to Denki, “Honestly, she’s terrifying.”

“...Lowkey kinda hot though?”

“DUDE.”

---

Bonus: Present Mic found out later and just yelled,

“YEAHHHHH!! YOU’RE SPEAKING FROM THE HEART, BABY!”

Midnight has officially claimed Y/N as her “spirit child.”

---

To be continued… if Class 1-A survives her mouth.