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anglaland · 7 days

Text

fragile, handle with care

Fandom: bnha (my hero academia)

Relationship: Rei & Shouto post-

War

Rating: Gen

Additional tags: fem!Todoroki, mother-daughter complexes and healing, hopeful ending

Summary (AO3 link in reblog):

“I never knew,” Shouto says.

“Natsuo was young, too,” Rei says. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“I made it harder,” Shouto says very quietly.

Shouto returns to her new home, and old skeletons follow. Nothing burns outwardly in this household, but guilt and grief alike simmer (and chocolate melts over a flame of their own creation).

“I’m home,” Shouto calls out softly, stepping past the threshold to the apartment.

Rei appears in the small hallway, dressed in a braided gray sweater and the long wool socks Fuyumi had knitted for her while she had been hospitalized. There’s a small smile on her lips with a matching upward curve of her eyes. “Welcome back,” she says dutifully. “How was school?”

“It was good,” Shouto automatically replies, carefully arranging her shoes and hanging her coat. The monitor across the wall from her reads 10C.

She had picked up dressing for the temperature she couldn’t feel from her mom…probably. The Todoroki estate didn’t have central heating either, and Shouto can remember having a gray sweater as well…

…almost. Almost remember, like so many memories, half there with the context fully out of grasp. Maybe the sweater was Rei’s. She thinks there may have been two of them and Mommy, you’re silly, you’re trying to wear mine! and she knows from the psychology class they took last semester that children only really start to dress independently from age 5, so someone had to have been dressing her, had to have put up with Shouto’s clumsy attempts to fit her arms through long sleeves and show her how buttons work.

Shouto didn’t need sweaters after that happened. She had two weeks worth of training clothes, and the outfits for the occasional public appearance with her father that would appear in her room with the tags still attached and disappear the next day (and she had left those tags on one time, once she had understood the concept of wealth and privilege and just how much 3those zeroes meant when she was much, much older, and Endeavor had burned the ends of her hair in anger as they sat shoulder to shoulder at the round table, and she can remember the familiar sensation of his flames against the back of her neck where his hand had rested, the horrible acrid smoke that always came with it accompanied by the unfortunately familiar burnt sulfur as Shouto stayed still, so still, because no one could know—)

Her mother’s hand cups her face. Shouto can’t feel the cold, and neither can her mother, twin sides of the same coin (but wouldn’t that mean being different, a different front and back, cursed to mirror each other but never see each other —)

The touch is warm, nonetheless. Shouto closes her eyes briefly and reminds herself it’s alright to take comfort in the action. You don’t need to deserve affection, her therapist had said. He hadn’t quite seemed to understand that Shouto had to earn it, had to, because she was the reason it had been lost.

But comfort. She could let herself feel the comfort. Her mother had said as much in the hospital after the War, when Shouto had opened her eyes and immediately met Rei’s gaze from where she was sitting in the visitor’s chair next to her. Her mother had wiped the tears dripping down her face with bandaged hands as Shouto had said I’m sorry and I’m so glad and everyone else, are they—? everyone was okay when I left, are they still—? and her mother had said Oh Shouto, My Shouto, had sat on the bed and cradled her face in two hands, and because Shouto was weak and selfish she had leaned forward and dropped her head on her Mom’s shoulder (and that could have been so bad, what was she thinking? How could she prioritize herself when her mother had continuously risked her life and stepped out of her comfort zone since Shouto had started meeting her?) but Rei hadn’t pushed her away, had murmured soft somethings as she stroked the back of Shouto’s head and Shouto cried harder.

It has been okay, since then. Her mother did it a lot, hand just as soft, just as warm, and sometimes Shouto can feel the tears in the back of her eyes wanting to fall again, just for the chance that her mother might embrace her seeing them (thinking only of herself again), but that self-rebuking reminder only worsens the self-pity.

Shouto steps back, and Rei’s hand drops into the space between them. “The new classes have been good. Everyone is doing well.” She pulls a small container from her crossbody bag. “Izuku really liked it. His mom made something too…she insisted, even though I said she didn’t have to. She says if you share your recipe, she’ll share hers, but I think she’s teasing.”

“I’m glad he liked it,” Rei says, stepping further inside. Shouto follows her past the kitchen to sit at the western table they had bought, shiny hardwood muting her steps. “I’ll call Inko tomorrow…hold on, I’m just going to write it down…”

She goes into the kitchen, and Shouto sits herself at the table. The dorms have something similar, with how many of them there are, and although she’s gotten used to it, it still feels different. But everything about this apartment is different. It’s meant to be different. It’s good to be different, even if Shouto is a reminder of anything but different.

Her mother returns with food. “Mom,” Shouto frowns, sliding off the chair. “I could have helped you.”

“You’ve worked hard, Shou-tan,” her mom says, setting the food in front of her and gently pushing Shouto back into the chair. “Rest. I’ll bring the rest out.”

Shouto sits back down.

Soft shuffling sounds echo from the kitchen, so distant from the lively clanging of the dorm kitchens. It’s cold soba that sits unassuming on the plate in front of her. It always is, the first day she returns to this house. Home?

She takes a bite of the plain noodles. Bakugou had yanked her bowl back the first time she had done that in the dorms, had scowled as Shouto frowned at her empty chopsticks and said don’t look at me with those sad fucking eyes, at least wait for the damn sauce, left Shouto with her legs hanging until he had come back with the second bowl.

You didn’t have to do that, Shouto had said even as she dipped her noodles into the (incredibly rich) broth. It was still really good.

Only you would eat soba plain, Bakugou had rolled his eyes. Shouto had chewed her noodles and thought about waking up at 2 am in horrible pain and dizzying hunger, sneaking into the kitchen to eat leftover soba plain and cold on the wooden floor. Is that bad?

It’s wrong, he had scoffed, and had given her both the soba and the sauce at the same time every time after. Because he had made it for her after too, still, even with her impropriety, because the store bought noodles were offensive, or he couldn’t trust her in the kitchen, or he was sick of her eating her bland protein dinners, but not because he liked making it for her (as he reminded her every time).

Shouto can’t— she can’t remember eating soba with her mother, not really. Fuyumi had said she enjoyed it and so she had made it for Shouto. And Shouto did enjoy it, and didn’t know how to even talk with her sister then, so she had eaten the soba every time.

The taste in her mouth now is incredibly familiar, settling in her stomach with painful nostalgia. She doesn’t cook, so she can’t place what exactly about it is different from the one Fuyumi makes, why this one leaves her heart aching as she looks towards the kitchen for her mother.

On cue, Rei returns with the accompanying broth. She smiles seeing Shouto. “You used to love eating it plain as a child too,” she says, setting the dish besides Shouto and settling in the seat across from her.

“I did?” Shouto says, surprised.

Rei laughs. “The sauce was too bitter for you, I think. And you liked to copy me when I chilled it. One time, you had frozen the entire thing solid, before melting it to show off to me, and then started crying when the noodles were soggy in water. I dried it out on the stove, and you burned them to ash the next time you tried to do the same.” Rei settles her head into her palm, and Shouto can see the fondness in her gaze as she stares off at the table. She takes another bite to bury the abrupt yearning in her gut.

“You loved doing little tricks like that all the time, even if most of the time you broke whatever you had with you,” Rei continues.

I started young, Shouto thinks, and says “…I don’t remember.”

Rei fixes her gaze on Shouto and it’s still there — the fondness, the - the love, and now it’s Shouto who can’t maintain eye contact. “I’m not surprised. You were barely two years old at the time.”

Two years old. So much of the happiness in her life had been consumed by then, before five. She had sucked out her mom’s happiness in the following year before it had all culminated in that day.

Shouto tries to remember — god, she tries, but is she remembering the memory or creating it as she thinks about it? It was a version of her that made her mom smile and not cower in fright, happy and not terrified, and Shouto would become that version for her mom, if she could remember.

“I don’t remember,” she says quietly, again.

Rei stands from the table suddenly, already turning, and so she misses the childish flinch from Shouto at the sudden movement. Shouto hates it, the obvious tell of what her life had been like in every inch of herself. She had never been like that a year ago, before the War ended. While everyone else reveled in the comfort of the new peace, healing with their families, Shouto got worse. Got obvious, and she couldn’t even heal her family to make it worth it.

Rei returns with a photo album in her hands. “There’s pictures,” she says, settling next to Shouto’s left (and Shouto breathes very, very carefully). “I think it’s in this one…”

“Where’d you get that?” She manages to say in a somewhat even tone, and decides against saying I don’t remember for the third time and inviting pity from the person whose life she ruined. The front of the album dates it to two years after she would have been born

Rei smiles next to her. Looks into Shouto’s eyes, and Shouto drops her gaze to her chopsticks, before remembering that she could be looking at the album instead. “I made it a few years ago,” her mother says conversationally. “My therapist at the time thought it would be a good way to reframe my memories. Fuyumi brought me the pictures.”

Shouto does remember a small, sleek, silver camera. Fuyumi always brought it out on her birthday or whenever she dressed Shouto for one of Endeavor’s hero events. She would say smile! as she clicked the photo, with Shouto standing awkwardly in a dress or sitting on a table behind shortcake. Shouto never did know what she did with any of the pictures. At one point, Fuyumi had started taking pictures of Shouto’s injuries before she patched them, sniffling it’s not fair to you, Shouto-chan, and it had given Shouto such, such, hope those months, fantasies of — of something happening lulling her to sleep at night, until nothing happened, and Fuyumi stopped, and Shouto gradually started tending to her injuries alone.

(She never knew what happened to those pictures either.)

Rei starts to flip past the first few pages quickly, but Shouto catches the edge of one of the pages with her index finger. A younger Natsuo proudly holds up a game controller while Touya sits next to him, brow furrowed in focus at whatever game plays on the screen behind the camera.

Shouto stares mesmerized at the picture. She’d only ever seen Touya in his schoolboy uniform picture that graced his altar and then every news channel for the past seven months. He looked even younger in the photo, closer to the hazy look in her memories.

He was in a loose blue flannel shirt here. Shouto owned one just like that. The couch they sit on still sits in the Main House collecting dust. Even the picture frames behind it were the same, without the addition of two more Fuyumi had put up after Natsuo had graduated high school and after Shouto had graduated junior high. Fuyumi was probably just out of frame of this picture, too.

The domesticity was everything Shouto ever wanted. Everything she ruined. Even now, she can barely patch it up for her family properly.

Her finger hovers over Natsuo in the picture. “Natsu-nii’s controller isn’t turned on,” she says abruptly. And it isn’t — there’s no triangle of white light on the back of his like there is on Touya’s. Kirishima had shown her how they worked when they had first moved into the dorms. These new gen controllers they released are so different, he had said. Shouto realizes now that it was to make her feel better about not knowing how it worked. He hadn’t even said it any differently. He still didn’t treat her differently.

Her mom laughs. “Touya used to do that all the time when Natsu insisted on playing too. I don’t think Natsu ever realized.”

Shouto takes her phone out. “Do you think he ever did?”

“You’re going to send him a picture?”

“It’s a very sibling thing to do,” Shouto says, and taps the camera.

You sent an image.

Mom says you never realized.

Natsu-nii

realized what

holy shit is that a baby touyu-nii

did fuyumi gives this to you???

You

It’s a baby you, too.

She gave some pictures to Mom. There’s a photo album.

Look at the controller.

Natsu-nii

damn i was kinda ugly as a kid

touya looks exactly the same lmfao im showing this to him

ofc fuyumi just has these, was she even sentient at this age

WAIT

WTF

You

Why wouldn’t she be sentient?

Natsu-nii

WTF

WTF???

that

that bastard

are you serious

what do you MEAN i never realized

this was a TREND?????

You

To be fair, you were six.

Natsu-nii

I THOUGJT I WAS SO GOOD AT IT TOO

THIS WHOLE TIME

this is the worst betrayal.

You

If you tell Touya-nii that, he’s going to laugh at you.

Natsu-nii

HES BEEN LAUGHING AT ME THIS WHOEL TIME THAT FUCKER IM GOING THERE TMRW I S2G

“I’m glad you two are close now,” Rei says, covering her smile with her hand.

“Natsu-nii did most of the work.”

Her mom shakes her head. “Don’t discredit yourself. He said you reached out first.”

“Fuyumi was the one who made it all happen in the first place,” Shouto shrugs. She traces a younger Fuyumi beaming at the camera. Her smile reaches her eyes here, crinkling the edges. “She never gives herself any credit.”

“No,” her mom agrees softly. “She doesn’t. But it’s not limited, Shou-tan. You can have it too.”

“Do you tell her that too?”

“I tell all my children.”

Not all, Shouto corrects mentally.

“Oh, you two were so cute,” Rei sighs. She angles the album towards Shouto. “It’s not the one I was thinking of, but it’s close enough.”

She’s waving a frozen peach at the camera. A block of ice encases both the fruit and her younger self’s fingers. Touya is sitting on the table next to her, hunched over, apparently melting another peach that Shouto had frozen.

“We’re together,” Shouto says, surprised. “I thought…”

“Not always,” Rei says distantly, flipping through the album again. Rei, Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, even her, sometimes, alone more often than not but there. “I used to…in the year or two before…” She takes a deep breath, composing herself. Shouto waits. “Sometimes I’d bring you over to Touya and them…I don’t know if it made it worse. But it made you all so happy. But when you got older…you got more tutors. It was harder.”

“I never knew,” Shouto says.

“Natsuo was young, too,” Rei says. “I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“I made it harder,” Shouto says very quietly, because she doesn’t want her mom to hear and relapse with Shouto’s self-pity, or hear and agree —

—but she still said it aloud because maybe she wanted Rei to hear and tell her otherwise.

Regardless, Rei is quiet for whatever reason.

The little soba she had eaten settles to the bottom of her stomach like a stone. Her appetite has vanished. This is new too, since the War, since she moved into the new house, the ache of hunger being replaced by a different, unnamed ache, and suddenly she can’t take any more — more food from her family, more sympathy, more pity, more of everything she so desperately wished for growing up.

They’ve reached the end of the album. Shouto doesn’t think Rei was looking at it very much towards the end either.

“You’re not hungry?” Rei asks, gesturing to the bowl of soba.

“I’m full,” Shouto lies.

Rei frowns, but doesn’t push her. Maybe she believes Shouto. Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like they know each other very well anymore. Beyond talking about school, and her friends, and about Natsuo and Fuyumi, and about what Rei had done for the day, they didn’t talk about much else. Every topic was carefully safe, and they were quick to veer away from anything more.

And that was probably for the best. The last time she relied on her mom for her emotional well-being, her mother buckled under the stress.

(But she thinks of Inko wrapping Izuku in the tightest hug and sobbing in relief, of Mitsuki swatting Katsuki’s head and the two of them yelling at each other, but so obviously happy, and the carefully maintained distance between Shouto and her mom —

— and is it wrong to want?)

She fiddles with a hangnail. She was the cause. She should be the change.

What do daughters even talk about with their mothers?

“I went shopping with Yaomomo and Ashido the other day,” she tries. “We tried on dresses and I bought one they said looked good on me.” She pulls up the picture Ashido sent in the class group chat, of Shouto in a pale yellow sundress that went to her knees (it wasn’t summer, and Shouto wasn’t really sure why Ashido had snapped the pic, but it made her friends happy, so she didn’t mind).

Rei takes the phone in her hand. “You look beautiful, Shouto,” she smiles. “Will you send it to me?”

“Of course,” she says a little too quickly.

Her mom hands the phone back. “I haven’t worn a dress like that for a while,” she says. “I used to love putting makeup on my friends before we went out shopping.”

Shouto can’t read the look she sends her. “I don’t wear much makeup.” She resists the urge to touch her scar. “It…feels heavy.”

“Oh,” Rei says. “Well — that’s okay. It’s been a while. I probably don’t remember much of how to do it. And styles change so fast these days.”

Shouto doesn’t know the first thing about fashion styles. “Yeah,” she agrees lamely.

The conversation settles. Shouto tries to rack her brain for other girly topics, and she wishes she had Uraraka or Hagakure with her. A girl that knew how to be a girl not — whatever Shouto is.

They’ve tried with her, of course. Putting makeup on her (but avoiding her scar without a word, and what was the point of dressing up a broken doll?), shopping, of course, painting her nails, watching romcom movies—

Well. There was a thought. She could, certainly.

“Valentine’s Day is this week,” she says hesitantly.

“Is it?” Rei looks towards the calendar hanging on the wall. “You’re right. Time’s passed by so quickly.”

They stare at each other.

“Is there someone you like?” Rei asks softly.

“…yes.” The hangnail is a little longer. Endeavor would have ripped it off if he saw her fiddling with it. “He’s in my class. You know him. Bakugou Katsuki.”

Rei’s eyebrows furrow, before recognition sparks in her eyes. “The boy who visited you in the hospital…the one who told me not to let you do anything stupid, and that you did-“

“That’s him,” Shouto interrupts, trying to stave off the inevitable.

“– ‘pretty good out there, for a half and half bastard like yourself’.”

The tip of her cheeks feel warm. “He – he doesn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” Rei says. Shouto thinks this might be the widest she’s seen her mom smile today. “The way he looked at you. You two were familiar with each other.”

“We’re classmates.”

“But maybe Valentines?”

She’s not quite sure how she feels so hot suddenly, considering that she was created for thermal equilibrium. She sits her cheek in her right hand and tries to covertly cool herself off. “Not yet.”

“But you’re planning it.”

“I don’t know,” Shouto admits.

Her mom looks at her with knowing eyes, which grips her heart in equally painful ways. “What’s making you hesitate?”

Shouto thinks of waking early and drinking her pre-workout shake and watching him come back from an even earlier morning run, slanted red eyes and some remark or the other as he started breakfast and she watched him until she couldn’t delay any longer. The look he gave her when she started making his shake along with hers, and the ever so slight, ever so present smirk that appeared every day afterwards. Facing off against each other in afternoon training and the adrenaline of knowing she could be more heavy-handed with her quirk, seeing the explosions pop in his hands and the same feral look on his face because he could do the same. Stopping at the convenience store after remedial classes and him picking out strawberry milk every time, in addition to groceries for the class, the remark between them forever unsaid. And — comfort, of not having to try, not having to worry about her poor social skills, not masking, just — her.

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” she confesses.

Rei’s hand curls by her side. Shouto thinks of Inko grasping Izuku’s face between two hands, wiping away tears with her thumbs. She resists the urge to trace her scar.

“It will change,” her mom agrees softly.

“Oh,” Shouto says. She’s not sure if she should have told Fuyumi instead and gotten false optimism instead.

“But friendships always change, Shouto. Yours already has, even if it’s been slow enough that you haven’t noticed.” Rei twists a ring around her finger. “I can’t tell you what to do…I married Enji young. But whatever decision you make, it will be the right one.”

“You trust me too much,” Shouto says, trying for levity (except she’s awful at that, and it comes out a little too honest).

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because —” Because I don’t. Because anytime anyone has put their trust in me, I failed. Because I failed you. “Because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Rei laughs, and the air shifts with the sound, and Shouto’s head snaps up, mouth parted. “Who does, Shou-tan?”

There’s a wonderful expression on Rei’s face, and Shouto wonders. “Did…did you ever —?”

“No. I wasn’t interested in any of the boys I went to school with. But one of my best friends was head over heels for a new boy or girl every few months, and we’d make chocolate for her to give her new crush.”

“Bakugou tried to teach me how to,” Shouto says, if teaching included strict directions for Shouto on how to use her fire (“it’s good practice for quirk control,” Bakugou had grumbled, shoving two bowls into her hands). “…I burned it.”

Rei laughs again, and Shouto wishes for a moment she could bottle it up for herself, before dismissing the selfish thought. “It takes some practice.” She glances towards the kitchen, then back towards Shouto. “…I can help you make some, if you’d like.”

“Now?” Shouto says dumbly before she can stop herself. “No, I mean,” she says hastily before the open expression on Rei’s face can slide off, “Yes. I’d love to. Thank you.”

Making chocolate turned out, in fact, to be melting chocolate. That would explain. Well. That she wasn’t supposed to let the chocolate harden because that happened after.

She tells her mom as much, hoping (selfishly) for another laugh. She’s rewarded easily, and Shouto’s whole chest lights up in warmth. “Wouldn’t you just leave it as is, if you wanted hard chocolate?”

“I thought the heat changed it somehow,” Shouto admits, opening up packets of dark chocolate Rei had gotten from the hospital staff after being discharged. “Isn’t that what cooking is?”

Rei is chopping nuts beside her, intermittently checking on the stand mixer next to her with different ingredients. “The heat does change it; it melts it. But it remains the same, just in a different form.”

Shouto gathers the chocolate in her hands, keeping it cool with her right hand, and brings it over to her mom. “We need a sauce pan and bowl, don’t we?”

The nuts are shuffled unceremoniously into a small bowl, and another round of chopping starts. “Ah,” Rei says, not looking at her. “Bakugou-kun probably used the double boiler method. We’ll just be using the saucepan. It’s…better, for this.”

Shouto nods, and turns the dial on the stove. It’s electric, the surface heating up without a lick of flame. Her mom had shown her what to do beforehand, but promised support if Shouto needed it. She drops the chocolate in slowly, and then begins to stir.

“It was nice of the hospital staff to give you gifts,” Shouto says, not taking her eyes off the stove.

“It was, wasn’t it?” She can hear the smile in her mom’s voice. “They gave me the baking pans as well, and the mixer…it was very kind. I told them a long time ago that I wanted to open a bakery when I was younger, and they let me practice in the communal kitchen, sometimes.”

Shouto stops stirring abruptly, and the chocolate begins to stick to the sides of the pan before she remembers to restart. “You wanted to open a bakery?”

”After word got around that I was making Ayase’s — my friend, the one with the many love lives — making Ayase’s chocolate, many of my classmates wanted some too.” Rei says, nonchalantly, as if this wasn’t the first time Shouto had heard of her mother’s dreams. “I ended up with a small catering business. The money helped my family…”

The scent of the dark chocolate is too bitter all of a sudden, and Shouto feels her throat constrict. The tiniest of fractals cover the countertop. “But you had to stop.”

“Well, of course.”

“Because you got married. And had kids.”

Rei meets Shouto’s gaze. “I wanted that.”

“But you wanted a bakery more. And you couldn’t because–” because Touya told me that you only got married because the Himuras needed money and Endeavor was probably far richer than whatever actually made you happy “because you had to have us. Had to take care of us.”

“Shouto,” Rei says, steady. “Whatever Touya told you…isn’t true. It was my decision. And it’s not as if I stopped completely. I still baked all of your birthday cakes, didn’t I? You used to help me–”

– and whatever she says after is lost in white noise because Shouto remembers that her mother did have to stop completely, remembers tugging on her mom’s shirt to ask about it and Rei brushing the bangs out of her face and saying Not today, and she had asked Natsuo about it, peeking across a paper door in the middle of the night, and Touya had told her venomously (and why can she only remember the painful memories of him?) that Mom can’t make them because she’s too busy with you.

“You had to stop because of me.” Shouto croaks. “I did make everything harder.”

And Rei hears this time, undeniably, but Shouto’s thoughts keep running, running, running, and she had known, of course she had know that she ruined her mother’s life, stole ten years from her, but — this, knowing that her mom had dreams, a goal, and Shouto took everything from her—

Rei stills, pausing the mixer. “Shouto, you were a child. A baby. You couldn’t have made it harder.”

“But I did,” Shouto says, and thinks she could understand the well Touya drew his hysteria from, feels it crawling up her throat. “I got more tutors. I took you away from everyone. I took the old man’s attention from Touya. And you both —” Her hand hovers over the saucepan. “You both suffered from it. From me.”

Rei is looking at her with wide eyes, and Shouto’s mouth goes dry. Had she triggered a memory? Reminded her of something it took a decade of therapy to process? “Sorry—” she starts to say.

“Shouto,” Rei interrupts, clasping cold hands over her own, over the unevenly melted chocolate Shouto is ruining. “That wasn’t your fault.”

She pulls her hands out of her mom’s grasp, and avoids eye contact, avoids seeing if there’s pain in her gaze — from her rejection, from reminiscing, from trying to comfort the source of your trauma. “It happened because of me,” Shouto explains. “If I hadn’t been born — you could…you could all — be different. Be happy.”

“Shou-” her mom tries to say, but Shouto leans away.

“And I know that,” Shouto insists, swallowing past the pain in the back of her throat. She has to say this, it’s important to say — she can’t have anyone blaming themself for her mistakes. “I know. And that’s why — that’s why I’m trying to be better.” Trying to be the hero of the family, like her mother so calmly said she was back then (and Rei had said she was surprised Shouto called her mom, as if it wasn’t Shouto that should be thankful to have the chance to do so). “To save everyone from what I caused. I have to,” she finishes quietly.

Silence. There isn’t even a clock in this house to fill the house with oppressive ticking sound. And silence — silence was the absence of an answer. An affirmation of what she said. It was her junior high P.E. teacher seeing bruises across her flank when she changed and saying nothing. It was the letter she picked off her door when Izuku had left, written words because all of their spoken words had talked around it. It was the echoing downpour as she stood outside U.A. with her father and Hawks, and he had promised to do this together and he didn’t, not until Shouto had said something.

And — maybe that’s why the words tumble out of her now. “And I will. I promise I will, and I’m trying, and I know it’s not good enough to make up for any of it, and maybe in the next life everyone can be happy without me, a real family —”

Her mother hugs her.

Pulls her in, one hand against the back of her neck, the other wrapped around her waist, and Shouto’s chin is propped up by Rei’s shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just holds Shouto, and even with the silence Shouto’s head is the loudest it’s ever been, and even with her mother’s quirk it’s the warmest she’s ever felt.

When Rei pulls back, there are tears spilling from her eyes. And all the emotional build-up, years of it after being trained and trained and trained to not cry — Shouto sees her mother’s tears and suddenly, she’s crying too.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, and tries to pull away. Rei holds her firm.

“No, baby,” her mother says, smoothing over the unruly red split of her hair. “It’s not your fault. None of it ever was.”

“But because I was born—”

Rei cups her left cheek and Shouto falls silent, heavy, hot tears fall down her cheeks. “You didn’t ask to be born. You didn’t ask for your quirk, or the way you look — and I don’t deserve your apologies, not when those are from me.”

“That’s not true!” Shouto interrupts.

“Why not? I chose to have you—”

“But you didn’t!”

“I did,” Rei says firmly, wiping the tears from Shouto’s eyes, her fingers brushing over her scarred eyelid. “And in every universe, in every life, I would choose to have you again. There’s is no life where I am happy without you, Shouto.”

“That’s…”

Rei brings Shouto to the floor, and pulls her into her embrace again. “And I must be one of the happiest ones in this universe, because my Shouto suffered through my choices and still chooses to be kind and smile for me.”

Shouto cries harder.

“Never think that any of this is your fault. Shouto, you’re the best thing that happened to this family.”

She clings to her mom as she sobs, and she’s so selfish for taking comfort when she had ruined Rei’s life, even if — even if her mother says — “How c-can you say that, after everything I’ve done? A-after everything I’ve taken from you?

Rei presses a soft kiss on the left side of her forehead. “You’ve only given me hope, Shou-tan. You saved this family. Never think otherwise, never ever think otherwise.”

Being held like this, against her mother, fists clenched in Rei’s shirt, small circles being rubbed into her back while another hand strokes her hair, feels so familiar that the tears can’t stop, keep flowing as ugly sobs rack Shouto’s frame.

Shouto cries until her breaths become hiccuping gasps, and when she lifts her head and sees the dried tear tracks on her mother’s face, a new wave of hysteria rolls over her and she buries her face in her mom’s neck again as fresh sobs shake her.

Her head is pounding when Shouto finally lets go of her mother’s blouse, sniffing wetly. Her eyes burn, feeling heavy.

Her mother is still there.

(still here)

Fresh tears prick at the corners of Shouto’s eyes, trickling out the side, heavy but not as burning. “Shou-tan,” her mother says tenderly, running her thumb over Shouto’s fingernails.

“I - I don’t—”

“Shh,” Rei soothes. “You’ve been so strong already. We let you think this for so long. I’ve been gone for so long. But,” she gently grasps Shouto’s chin and tilts it upwards, “I’ll never let you go without hearing this again.”

“Mom,” Shouto sniffles.

Rei doesn’t whisper her next words. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

Shouto starts crying in earnest again, and Rei holds her throughout.

“The chocolate,” Shouto mumbles nasally some time later. She can’t tell the time; the warm white fluorescent lighting feeling as bright as noon sunlight to her. But the stove is off, and there’s no smell of burning, of heat to choke them both with.

Rei laughs softly, and Shouto’s been selfish already, and it’s been okay, so — she listens and warms without guilt. Rei brings a glass of water to Shouto’s hands, lightly prompting her to drink, and then to finish the glass. The headache abates slightly.

“We can try again later.”

”It’s ruined,” Shouto says. And indeed, the chocolate is clumped together, hard and decidedly not smooth and even.

“It’s just seized,” Rei consoles.

Shouto blinks slowly. Her eyes are starting to feel heavy with the urge to sleep. “But…chocolate…doesn’t have a brain?

Her mother’s lip twitches in poorly suppressed mirth. “It just means it’s become lumpy like this. We could fix it, if we wanted to.”

Ruined chocolate should just be called lumpy then, Shouto thinks (or not ruined?) “And if we don’t want to fix it? If we can’t?”

Rei stands and opens a cabinet on the distant side of the kitchen. When she comes back (and Shouto only barely doubted that she would come back) her arms are full of the other gifts and well-wishes from her hospital. Her mom picks one of the cards at random and gestures towards the date. Six years ago, from a woman who had written that she was sad to leave and that she would miss Rei. “Chocolate doesn’t spoil easily,” she says, smiling softly. “We can try again…there’s always tomorrow. We’ll still be here.”

— and Shouto returns the smile.

#bnha #fem!todoroki #bnha fanfic #mha #rei todoroki #mha fanfic

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 9 months

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DRABBLE: YOU'RE THE CUTEST BIMBO HE'S EVER SEEN (18+) (MHA) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Idk...I like the bimbo shit. I might make a fic with a bimbo!reader one of these days. Btw, some of these drabbles are meant for chubby/plus-sized readers, but I'll just put that as a note. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

PRO!HITOSHI - Note: Reader is Chubby

When he sees you for the first time, he is as intrigued as he is rock-hard the very moment he sees you in your little pink thong bikini.

He is down the shore with Denki after being forced to take a trip to get out of the sweltering, congested Tokyo heat for a while. Don’t get him wrong; a nice trip down the shore to get away from the villain activity and constant rush of the city is definitely a nice change of pace. But to walk around semi-naked people isn’t is idea of a relaxing vacation. It’s uncomfortable for him, walking around and seeing so many women with strings up their asses.

“You just need some company,” Denki said when Shinso voiced his concerns to his friend. “This place is swimming with plenty of pretty babes for the choosing, ‘Toshi! Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the top underground hero in Japan?”

Though Denki's compliment works somewhat, Shinso isn’t concerned with meeting someone for a hookup. He isn’t even really interested in sex…until he meets you, at least. While Denki is busy trying to flirt with some girls standing by a hot dog stand, Shinso slinks away into a nearby trinket store. His eyes roam over the seashell fridge magnets and snow globes with the fake snow replaced with sand. He thinks about which gift would be good for Eri, his little sister, until his eyes land on you.

There you stand a few feet away at a shelf of trinkets, standing on your tip toes with one of your chunky arms outstretched. You’re trying to reach for a pink seashell-shaped purse on the top shelf, and though you know damn well you can’t reach it, you still try.

Shinso is no longer interested in checking out the store items now that he’s got a look at you. You’re the best thing in here, from your plump little frame to the pink clothes you wear…if you can even call them clothes.

You’re really wearing just a mesh pink cover-up dress with a hot pink bikini underneath. The bikini top ties around your neck and back, exposing your rolls, while the bottoms are stuck in between your luscious, plump asscheeks that all Shinso wants to do is shove his face in. While he’s still uncomfortable seeing you in a thong, it's a different kind of discomfort now. He can feel his cock chub against his shorts, uncomfortably so.

“Excuse me?” It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking to him because of how dazed he is from your ass. You’ve turned around to face him now, showing your front, and dear fuck, does he wish you wouldn’t have. He can now see how the bikini top barely covers your big, juicy breasts and how your tummy bulges slightly over the string waist of your thong. Your lips, kissable and soft, shin in pink, glittery gloss and your cute little fingernails and toenails are coated in pink paint. Everything about you is pink.

He decides that the color fits you especially well when you open your mouth to speak again. “I'm so sorry,” you giggle sheepishly, giving him a smile that feels like a punch in the gut, “but could you help me reach that bag up there?” You point one chunky hand up towards the top shelf. “I’m just too short to reach.”

Shinso blushes at the sound of your voice, so sweet and innocent-sounding. He wonders how you’d sound moaning his name with his cock buried deep inside of you. “Uh, sure,” he replies, his voice sounding dry and gravely. He can barely breathe. You excitedly clap your hands, thanking him profusely for his help. “I was so sure I’d end up tripping over these,” you giggle, pointing down at your pink sandal wedges. What a pretty princess, you are.

“It’s whatever,” Shinso deadpans as he walks over to you. “Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to those shoes.” He glances down at them. “Steve Madden, huh?” he asks, loving it when you flush shyly at his observation. “I had some extra money,” you confess. “So I splurged. But they’re cute, right?!”

‘So, so cute,’ he thinks, but he isn’t referring to the shoes one bit. When he steps beside you to reach for the bag, he catches a whiff of your body spray. It is sweet and delectable, like whipped cream or sugar. God, could you get any cuter? As if answering him, his cock throbs painfully in his shorts. He barely has to stand on his toes to reach the bag, causing you to cutely gasp at his height. “Wow!” you say, shocked. “You’re so tall! I’ve never met anyone as tall as you.”

Shinso chuckles when he grabs the bag and holds it out to you. “Well, now you have. And you’re welcome…” He trails off, wishing you’d take a hint and spill the space in with your name. He watches as you gulp and stare up at him with those big, doe-like eyes as you take the bag from him. When you do, your fingers brush against his, sending an electric shock through him as if Denki just used his quirk on him.

“T-Thank you,” you softly stutter. “And I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr…” You trail off too, cutely puckering your lips. “No Mr,” Shinso chuckles. “Just Shinso. Or Hitoshi. Whichever you want.”

You tap one painted nail against your chin thoughtfully. “Hit-o-shi,” you carefully pronounce. Shinso has to suppress a groan at the sight of your soft lips forming his name.

“Can I call you ‘Toshi?” you ask, hope in your eyes. And something more. Mischief, it looks like. Hitoshi’s interest reaches its peak when he realizes that there is a whole other side to you than the cute, innocent persona he’s seeing right now.

He copies your move and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin, earning a sweet giggle from you. “Only if I can call you princess,” he replies smoothly. “And maybe buy you somethin’ to eat? I’ll admit that I’m not too familiar with the boardwalk though.”

You look rather shy from the pet name, but you don’t let that stop you from conversing more with him. “Is it your first time here?” you ask, gasping when he nods. “Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun! They have the best funnel cakes and pizza here! I’ll tell you what, ‘Toshi: I’ll treat you to food for doing such a good deed and helping me get my bag. Deal?”

You reach your hand out for him, peering up at him through your thick, doll-like lashes. All Shinso wants to do is fuck you silly while you look at him like that, but instead, he takes your hand, smirking at the way you bite your lip. “It’s a deal, princess,” he huskily says.

SHIGIRAKI - There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to people. There’s just no way! Do you know what you’re doing to him?

These are the thoughts that run through Shiggy’s head when you step into the dimly-lit, crowded bar with Toga by your side. The two of you giggle to each other, looking like the best of friends in your little sundresses and tiny purses that hang off of your wrists. The only difference between you and Toma the combination of innocence and sexiness you seem to ooze.

Toga had said she was inviting a friend of hers to the annual bar hop adventures she, Shiggy, and half of the LOV always have at this exact bar. Dabi knows the guy so they get drinks half off and the cops aren’t called despite them being out and about in the city. He sits with Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Twice (who won’t shut the fuck up) now, a whiskey in his hand that he knows he’s going to need when you finally come up to greet him.

Shiggy was initially against Toga bringing a stranger into their activities. “What if she talks?” he hissed. “How can you be so sure she won’t blab to the police about us? How do you even know this girl?” Toga barely gave him a glance as she poured herself some juice in the kitchen in their lair. “She’s an old childhood friend of mine,” she explained. “And no, she’s not gonna talk because she hates cops and heroes. I promise you’ll love her! She’s got a wicked streak to her.”

When he sees you, he can’t tell what about you is so ‘wicked’. You look like the cutest package of candy in your short, pink sundress that barely covers your ass or your tits that jiggle enticingly. He doesn’t even think you’re wearing a bra. You paired the dress with some pink heels, a charm bracelet, and two high pigtails that he envisions yanking on while his cock is buried deep in your–

“Hey, guys!” Toga giggles when she finally makes it to the stools. Shiggy nearly jumps out of his skin, earning a low chuckle out of Dabi. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one from my childhood? I told you I was bringing her tonight, remember?” She gives you a toothy, excited grin, allowing you to introduce yourself further.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say in your sugary, sweet voice that washes over Shiggy. “I hope I’m not interrupting your night out, but Toga insisted I meet you all.” Twice is the first one to make an impression, hopping out of his seat to greet you. “Not at all!” he brightly chirps. “I’m Twice, by the way. This here is Dabi, Spinner, and Shiggy.”

Spinner gives you a nod while Dabi only glances and Shiggy glares at Twice. “Shigaraki,” he corrects his friend. Toga rolls her hazel eyes while you giggle to yourself. “Ignore him,” she sighs. "Come, sit right here with me! I’ll order us some drinks. Do you like those fruity ones?”

Eagerly, you nod, making you even cuter. You then turn to him, your big eyes stopping him short of breathing. “Um…is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing one red-painted nail at the empty stool. To anyone else, he would’ve said something smart, but he can’t even muster words with how soft your lips look and the sweet smell of your perfume filling his senses. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. He’s never had any woman make him feel this way before. He thought these kinds of feelings were long gone.

He nods, earning a blinding smile from you as you take a seat. As you do, the hem of your dress rides up, revealing a sliver of thigh that has Shiggy’s cock throbbing uncomfortably in his sweats. From his right side, Dabi leans in towards him. “You’d better snag that before someone else does, Shig,” he teasingly whispers. “That someone bein’ me.”

Shiggy glances at his friend, irked at his attempt at pushing his buttons. He knows Dabi also has a thing for innocence; especially ruining it. He turns to you, already finding you looking at him. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?” you ask, quiet excitement in your voice. Shiggy blinks, confused as to what you mean, until you point at his band shirt. “I like them too! Have you ever been to one of their shoes?”

It takes Shiggy some time to process words, but he doesn’t keep you waiting or questioning yourself. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “Two years ago. You listen to metal like that?” His eyes graze over your outfit and your body, picturing you without clothes. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

You giggle, adorably scrunching you nose. “It doesn’t,” you agree, “but yeah! I’m into a lot of hard metal and rock, but not too much screamo. That doesn’t keep me out of Hot Topic though.” Shiggy smirks at your confession and nods down at his wrist. You look down, gasping at the spiked Hot Topic bracelet sitting there. “It’s like we’re one and the same,” you softly laugh, smiling at the bartender when he lowers your pretty, fruity drink down.

Shiggy watches you sip your drink, your gloss stain on the glass rim making him want to cum all over your mouth. “Are we really?” he asks, but not unkindly. He is actually very curious and interested in you. What is it about you that Toga likes?

He gets his answer when you turn to him, a mischievous, dark glint in your pretty eyes. Despite your cutesy appearance and pretty clothes, you now appear before him as someone else. Someone darker. “We could always find out,” you suggest, a slight purr in your voice. He doesn’t know if it’s an accident, but your knee slightly brushes his when you shift in your seat.

Those words are all Shiggy needs. After one too many drinks and the whole “getting to know you” shit, you find yourself underneath him in his bed, your legs up by your ears and your pretty, pink dress on his bedroom floor. Shuddery moans and grunts leave his lips every time he drives his cock into you again and again, his hands wrapped around your ankles. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me, slutty girl.”

You whine for him, your lipgloss smudged off of your lips and pretty breasts jiggling for him as he fucks you into the mattress. “It feels good!” you babble, your mascara smudged. “You feel so good, Shigaraki!”

“Tomura,” he grunts down to you. “Call me Tomura.” Realization clears in your dazed eyes and your pretty face splits into a smile before he swoops down to swirl his tongue with yours in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

A sudden bang comes from above the wall above your head where the headboard bangs against it. “Could you two shut the fuck up?” Dabi yells. “I’m tryin’ to sleep off this whiskey.”

“Yeah!” Toga agrees. “I brought my friend tonight to get to know you, Shiggy, but not like this! You’ll ruin her!” A light giggle leaves your lips as Shiggy continues to rock his hips into your wet, tight walls. You lean up, your sticky lips at his ear. “I’m already ruined,” you whisper. “Can you ruin me more, Tomura?”

Shiggy didn’t need you to repeat. The entire night he spent ruining you over and over again, covering you in his cum until the dawn. Now he thinks you could be an extra good addition to the LOV crew.

PRO!BAKUGOU - Note: Reader is Chubby

He could’ve blown his fucking load when Mina brings you along for mini golf one night.

It’s just an ordinary summer evening where he and the squad are playing mini golf and slurping down milkshakes before you show up. Initially, Bakugou is irked waiting for you and Mina to show up, hating when people are late. “Where the fuck are these two?” he huffs. “They’d better not be doin’ their hair or somethin’ ‘cause I’m gonna be pissed if they are.”

“You know how girls are, ‘Suki,” Kiri chuckles, watching Denki try to aim his ball at a hole surrounded by gnome and fairy statues. “Mina takes forever to do her makeup sometimes, but it’s all to look nice for us. I’d think her friend is doing the same thing.”

As if on cue, Sero announces their arrival from his seat. “Look!” he exclaims, a chocolate milkshake in his hand. “They’re here! And damn, does her friend look good.” Each boy turns to look at you and they can all agree. Especially Bakugou.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you strut up with Mina, arms hooked in one another’s. You’re wearing a low cut, white crop top with a push-up bra that make your breasts look immaculate and delicious and a tiny, pink tennis skirt that starts at the waistband of your pudgy stomach and stops right at the top of your thick, jiggly thighs. You paired this outfit with white Nike low tops and pink knee socks that make you look more innocent than the cute little smile on your face that gets wider the closer you get to him and the guys.

He can’t stop staring at you, especially when you get closer and he gets to drink in all of the other details to you––how short you are compared to him (you barely graze his chest!); the Fenty gloss on your plump lips; the tiny bow clip in your hair; the scent of fruit on your skin that makes him dizzy.

Are you fucking forreal? How are you going to show up like that as if it’s normal? Are you trying to tease him? Are you playing with him? Bakugou can’t help but be irrationally angry from how cute and sexy you are. How is it possible to be both cute and sexy? All he knows is that his dick knows the answer judging by how it’s pushing up against his briefs at the sight of you now.

Mina stops you right in front of him despite his raging hard-on. Just his fucking luck. “Fellas,” she says with a smile, “this is my friend, Y/N. We work together at my agency and she was just dying to meet you guys.”

You flush, becoming shy at Mina’s teasing. “C’mon, Mina,” you softly whine, bumping your hip with hers. God, what Bakugou wouldn’t give to feel those hips in his big hands! Would you let him? There’s no way you wouldn’t. Your short skirt says that you want his hands all over you.

“Oh, really?” Denki asks, raising a brow. He struts up to you, already putting on the charm. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he purrs, shaking your hand. “I’m Denki, by the way. You probably know me as Chargebolt.” He raises your hand to kiss it, but is stopped by Bakugou tossing a golf ball at his head. “Kill the flirting, perv,” he grumbles as Denki rubs his temple, glaring at him.

“Sorry about them,” Mina sighs, but you just giggle. Bakugou’s ears perk at the sound. “That’s Kirishima and Sero aka Red Riot and Cellophane.” Kiri gives you a friendly wave while Sero gives you a wink that Bakugou doesn’t particularly like either. “And Bakugou already made his grand introduction,” Mina sarcastically says.

You finally face him entirely and he sees your smile falter somewhat when your eyes land on his. Bakugou notices immediately. Do you not like what you see? Are you intimidated by him? He backs up to try and give you space, realizing how small you really are…small enough to break…small enough to toss around in a bedroom. His bedroom, preferably.

“Nice to meet all of you,” you sweetly say, though your eyes are still on him. “I'm exposing myself here, but I am a big fan of you guys! I’ve got all your posters and merch!” Everyone except Bakugou laughs at your cute little confession. “Oh, yeah?” Sero asks, raising a pierced brow. “So who’s your favorite hero, Y/N? It’s okay, you can tell us.”

He, Kiri and Denki look at you, interested despite your obvious shyness and discomfort. Even though Bakugou won’t admit it, even he is interested. Even so, he decides to come to your rescue, shocking every single one of his friends. “Ignore them,” he murmurs as he passes you a golf club. “You want next game or what?”

You stare up at him with those big eyes, looking shocked he’s even saying much to you. You wrap one hand around the golf club, giving him a look at your pink manicure. He can’t imagine how they’d look on his cock while you’re stroking it for him. “I would,” you say, “but I’m not much of a player. I wore the right outfit for it though!”

You swish your hips around in your pink skirt, making Bakugou’s cock even harder when he thinks he catches a glimpse of your inner thighs. “Show her, Katsuki!” Kiri shouts from the sidelines. “She is our guest, after all.” The redhead gives him a knowing wink which emits a growl from Bakugou.

“Whatever,” he huffs. Despite being pissed that his friends know he is whipped, he leads you over to one of the golf holes located up on a hill surrounded by wooden fans. You stand to the side, your tongue thoughtfully licking your bottom lip and giving him some awful thoughts about your mouth. “Am I doin’ it right?” you ask, even bending your knees though it’s still the incorrect form.

Bakugou nearly laughs at your cuteness. “Nah, but I’ll give you points for your eagerness. Want me to show you?” You peer at him from over your shoulder and nod. Without even realizing how this looks, he stands behind you, putting a good distance between his front and your back to avoid giving you a taste of his raging bulge.

“Stand with your hips square with your feet,” he explains, doing his best to not breathe in your shampoo. You do so before his hands cup yours over the golf club. “Take it back once, aim for the ball, and…” He helps you swing the club at the ball, your body twisting with his as you do. The ball goes soaring up the hill and into the hole, never missing.

From the sidelines, the gang applauded you. “I did it!” you excitedly shout, turning to him. “We did it!” You jump up and down, giving Bakugou a great view of your breasts jiggling and bouncing about. You’re not making this easy for him at all, especially with that pretty smile on your face. “And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you confess.

Bakugou scowls at you, confused. “Huh?”

You look down at your shoes, suddenly shy. “The guys asked me who my favorite hero was out of all of you,” you softly say. “And it’s you ‘cause you’re so sweet.” Bakugou’s brain short-circuits. Sweet. You think he's sweet! You, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met. Suddenly, the air between you changes to something more open and flirtatious. He wants to know everything about you now.

“Well,” he replies, a smirk on his lips, “maybe you can tell me more about how sweet I am over a milkshake?” You look up at him, excitement in your pretty eyes. “And over a phone call!” Denki calls from the sidelines. “Give her your number, dude!”

Bakugou swears if looks could kill, his friends would be dead by now. But he does, in fact, give you his number at the end of the night.

PRO!KIRI - Note: Reader is Chubby

‘Mine.’

That’s all he can think when he sees you for the first time at the gym. As soon as he sees you in your tight, pink sports bra and shorts that cup your shapely, plump ass so nicely, it’s a fucking wrap for him. You pop up on the treadmill next to him and he immediately notices despite him jogging. So far, he’s at five miles. Another five to go.

He knows he can’t be distracted by anything that will ruin his workout, but so far, the distraction is winning. You glance at him and offer a smile that makes your little cheeks and baby face even cuter. The sight of you nearly knocks the air out of him. He manages to smile back at you, trying his best to not seem menacing with his sharp teeth, but you don’t seem too disarmed.

He then pretends to go back to what he’s doing (working out), but all the while, he pays attention to your every move. He watches as one of your chunky fingers presses the buttons on the treadmill, your fingernail pained a glittery pink. Then you start walking along the moving convator belt, your high ponytail swishing behind you and reminding him of some very naughty things, like wrapping his fist in it while his cock is buried in the delectable pussy that he knows hides behind those shorts.

He’s admittedly never dated a woman of your size or shape before. Honestly, he hasn’t had too many girlfriends due to his demanding job as a pro hero. But looking at the way your breasts jiggle in your sports bra and your soft, chubby waist behind your shorts is making him think differently. Not to mention how short you are. He’s got a thing for short girls. Maybe it’s because of the whole protection thing. He likes feeling tall and big enough to protect his girl from everyone and everything, you? You definitely fit the bill.

These thought scare him slightly. Why is he pining after a whole stranger in a gym and thinking that you’re his? He’s eyeing you down like you’re a piece of food and he’s starving for it. He immediately turns away and blushes as red as his hair. ‘This is so unmanly,’ he thinks, criticizing himself for his behavior.

But goddamn, are you too fine! Most of the men in here seem to think so too. He notices their eyes crawling across your body, stopping on your ass and boobs. He glances at you worriedly, wondering if you notice it too. But you’re too busy singing along to the music in your pink AirPods, your voice making him crack a smile. You’re just too cute!

He doesn’t make his move on the first day though. He waits for about a month before he actually says something to you. Every time he comes in on the weekends, he does so on the same day at the same time hoping to see you. And he does. You strut in wearing your short, tight gym attire with your J’Adore Dior duffle bag, your ponytail bouncing. You greet each other with smiles before he watches you get into your workout, paying close attention to the way your body moves and any gym rats who may want to bother you.

The day he actually makes a move isn’t one he planned on. It’s a Saturday morning and he’s busy with his cool-down stretches, pretending not to be looking at you in the mirror squatting with a kettlebell between your chunky hands. His eyes marvel at your body, wondering how you’d feel in an embrace or underneath him. Those thoughts quickly dissipate though when someone walks up to you.

He is buff and about the same height as Kiri with tattoos and a muscle tee. Immediately, Kiri switches into protection mode and strains to hear your convo. “Hey,” the guy greets you. You pause with your workout, lowering the kettlebell down. “Hi,” you sweetly greet, giving him a smile. Kiri bristles. Those smiles are meant for him only!

“I’m Trent,” the guy says, offering his hand for a shake. You take it, still the sweetheart. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself. Kiri notices that Trent’s hand lingers a bit more than necessary before it drops from yours. “That’s some outfit, y’know,” he chuckles, leaning against one of the machines as he attempts to put the charm on.

“Thanks!” you giggle. “I bought this week. I just love pink. It’s such a pretty color.” Trent nods, his eyes trailing lustfully over your body in your tight one-piece unitard and cropped hoodie that stops just above your sternum. You don’t notice but Kiri does. “You know, I could always help you with this workout,” Trent suggests. "Help you get deeper into those squats.”

You blink at him, obviously confused. “Are you a trainer?” you ask innocently. Kiri feels his cock stir. God, you’re just too cute! Trent smirks down at you. “I can be that and more,” he purrs. “Here, let me get you a mat!”

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you protest. “I-I’m not–“ But he’s already moving to get you a mat and bends down to put it under your feet, eyeing your thighs and calves as he does so. You look so, so uncomfortable.’That’s it!’ Kiri thinks, irked to no end. He’s watched for long enough. He can't stop himself from rising to his feet and storming over to you and Trent, anger stirring within him.

When he stops near you, you’re the first one that sees him. He thinks he sees the corner of your lips twitch into a smile but he isn’t too sure. He stares down at Trent, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I think she said she’s fine, Trent,” he firmly says, practically spitting the guy’s name. “You should listen to her.”

Trent pauses and glares up at Kiri. “What do you care?” he scoffs. “So I suddenly can’t be a nice guy?” Kiri glares back at him, his red eyes sharp. “We both know what you’re bein’ nice for,” he almost growls. “And I’m not about to sit by and watch you bother this girl just for some nookie. Leave her alone before I call security.” He eyes Trent down, daring him to fight this.

Trent stands, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. He glances at you before scoffing to himself and storming off, heading for the locker room. Once he’s gone, you sigh in relief. “Thank you,” you say with gratitude. “I have no idea why he wanted to give me a mat. I didn’t even need one!”

Kiri relaxes, but only slightly. You’re talking to him. You two are really talking! “Don't thank me,” he chuckles modestly. “Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I saw him tryin’ to spit game and you not enjoyin’ it too much, so I just had to step in.” He dares to look down at you and almost creams on the spot at the sight of your cleavage. “W-Well, I’m gonna go and let you–“

“I’m Y/N,” you instantly say, twirling the drawstring to your hoodie. You offer him a gloss-lipped smile that gives him butterflies. “Ejirou,” he replies. “Kiri for short.” You giggle to yourself. “I know; other than you being Red Riot, I hear your name all the time here.” He blushes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a regular here. It’s one of the only gyms that are safer for pros like me.”

“Well, I’ll keep your secret,” you giggle, “but only if you agree for me to buy you lunch for your good deed.” From the way you slightly rub your thighs together and peer up at him through your lashes, he feels like you’re thinking of a lot more than just lunch. And he wants to know just what.

He smirks down at you, trying hard to ignore his dick chubbing in his basketball shorts. “Maybe,” he replies, playing along. “I think I’d need your number for that though. I mean, just to tell you what I like…for lunch.” He almost kicks himself. You giggle to yourself, already pulling your rose gold iPhone out of your pocket. “It’s a date then!” you chirp.

After leaving the gym with your number in his phone, he can’t help but nut to the thought of you while in his car minutes later, the vision of your pretty lips and body coated in his sticky cum making him fuck his fist a little harder. Call him unmanly, but goddamn, he can't wait for the real thing!

DABI - When he first sees your cute little self in your mini skirt that barely covers your ass, he just wants to follow you around and scare anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way.

And that’s exactly what he does. ‘Cause what the fuck are you doing strutting around like that in this club? Don’t you know how you’re dressed? You’re dressed like you want to get fucked. Though he can’t see you from the front, he can tell you’re wearing a halter top judging from the tie around your slender back. And no bra? Those titties must be bouncing everywhere!

As you can damn well tell, Dabi likes the innocent girls…or the girls who look innocent. Something about ruining them and bringing out that nasty, dark, devious side to them that he knows lies deep underneath their soft, pink, sweet personality. And you’re no different.

So he lies deep in the cut and watches you laugh and chat with people, blushing cutely when they compliment your clothes and being completely oblivious to the guys who stare you down like they want to eat you alive. He sips on his drink and eyes your legs, wondering how they’d feel wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for this little game to come to an end. You step outside for some air and he’s right behind you, but he doesn’t go out immediately. He watches as you lean against the wall and dig into your pink purse for your bubblegum. Finally, he comes outside, feeling blessed that he can finally get you alone.

You don't even flinch when he comes up to stand beside you, taking a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. In fact, you give him a smile as you chew on your bubblegum, your pink lips forming an O for a big bubble. He imagines those lips forming an O when you moan while his tongue is buried deep in your cunt that lies beneath that skirt. From his angle, he can finally see the rest of your outfit––a glittery, pink halter top paired with platform boots and luscious, curly hair that makes you look like one of those early 2000s movie stars.

“Want some?” you ask, holding the box of gum out to him. His eyes flick from the box to your big, doe-like eyes rimmed with mascara to make them look almost like a doll’s. Like his pretty little doll. “You’re askin’ a stranger whether or not he wants your gum?” he asks, raising a curious brow at you before puffing on his cig.

You giggle adorably, almost ditzy-like. “You’re not a stranger, silly!” you protest. He blinks down at you, confused. “I saw you when I came into the club with my friend…and while you were following me around.”

Dabi blanches. Fuck, he’s been caught! How did you even notice? “Accept my apology,” he sighs, smoke billowing from his lips. “Couldn't help myself. You just look too damn cute to be in there not bein’ looked after.”

At this, you become shy and advert your eyes as a bashful smile adorns your pretty face. “You know, smoke is a bad habit,” you softly say. He nods, agreeing. “What’s your point?” he asks, paying close attention to your body language. He notices how tight your thighs are pressed together and the way your fingers fiddle with your skirt. You’re wanting something.

“Because…” Your eyes slowly trail back to his, now hooded and lustful. “Nicotine breath ruins kisses,” you purr. “And I’d really like a kiss from you. I have to thank you for watching my back in there, don’t you think?”

Dabi swears he’s never been harder in his life. He’s also have never ditched a cig that wasn’t a stub yet either, but the promise of finally getting your lips on his makes him toss the cig down and crunch it under his shoe.

Several minutes later, your glossy, soft lips are on his, the taste of strawberries in his mouth, while his cock is buried deep in your soft, wet pussy. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he grips your hips, your skirt hiked up and your lace panties pushed to the side to give him all the freedom to fuck you as he pleases. And he does so.

“You’re just like a doll,” he grunts into your ear, growing harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips. “Are you my pretty baby doll tonight?”

All he gets his a broken moan of his name in response. He chuckles to himself as he lifts your leg up slightly and continues to fuck you silly behind the nightclub. He knew you had a devious side.

NATSUO - You were just the cute girl in his class that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You would walk in wearing the cutest outfits known to man, all of them with pink tossed in. His favorite one was the cropped pink sweater and white skirt that swished around your legs and hiked up slightly in the back to give him a sneak peek of your thighs. That was the first day you two met. You had sat in front of him and rummaged around in your backpack, oblivious to Natsuo burning a hole in your back.

You sighed adorably and turned to him randomly, your glossy lips in an adorable pout that had his cock stirring in his jeans. “Hi,” you say with a smile. “Sorry to bug you, but I forgot my pen at home. Do you have one I can borrow?”

It took a minute for Natsuo to answer because he was too busy staring at your lips move, envisioning his dick between them. “U-Uh, yeah,” he finally replied, idiotically so. He dug into his backpack and handed you one of his best ink pens.

You happily smiled as you took the pen from him, your soft fingers grazing against his. “Thanks!” you chirped. “I promise I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day.” And you did. That is when your friendship began. He begins letting you borrow your pens while you send him notes from class if he’s too tired to pay attention and falls asleep during class, dreaming of himself bending you over one of the desks.

When you first asked him to help you study for your midterm exam, he can’t believe his luck. “You’re just so smart,” you whine as you two walk alongside each other in the hall. “I can’t afford to fail, so I need your help. Meet you at your dorms this weekend? I’ll bring snacks!”

He was helpless to refuse you, but the idea of being alone with you this weekend made him want to bust and hide under his bed at the same time. He didn’t have that much experience with girls, especially pretty, cute, adorable ones like you. He spends the whole day cleaning up his space and gargling down Listerine mouthwash before you arrive.

When you do, it’s at 5 PM after you get off your shift. You show up at his door in a pretty, baby pink dress carrying a bag of snacks and sodas. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after Natsuo invites you in and get you situated at the table in the middle of his dorm. “I just know I’m gonna pass with you as a tutor.”

He blushes at the compliment. How is it you’re so sweet? “S’cool,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m happy to help. Thank you for the snacks though.” He ogles at the all of the snacks you pour out of your bag––Pocky boxes; chips; cookies; biscuits. You embarrassingly giggle, picking at your pink nails. “I, uh…like snacks,” you shyly confess.

‘Oh, God,’ Natsuo laments in his head as his cock surges in his sweats. Why the fuck did he wear sweats?! Why the fuck are you so cute?! This is not going to be easy.

It doesn’t get any easier for him as the night goes on. He gets distracted at some points at the crumbs dusting the corner of your mouth or the way you swipe your gloss over your lips. He tries not to freak out when you lean in to point out words you’re having trouble remembering the definitions for, the scent of your birthday cake body wash and the feeling of your bosom against his forearm. Are you doing this on purpose?

Despite him explaining and breaking down the study guide for you, all he can think about is dirtying up your dress with his cum or plunging his cock in and out of the gushy walls of your pussy. It’s impossible not to. He’s practically sweating halfway during the session so he has to strip himself of his hoodie, revealing his blue tee underneath that stretches across his muscles.

When you finally finish the session, it’s around 7 PM and you’ve correctly remembered most of the guide. When Natsuo gives you an approving smile, you squeal and jump on him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cheer, wrapping your arms tight around him. He blushes, feeling your breasts pushing against his chest. “You’re such a good tutor! I’m gonna ace this exam because of you!”

Natsuo laughs at your cuteness, giving you a one-armed hug in respect to you. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It helps when you have such a great student.”

You pull away from him, peering up at him with those big eyes and that pretty face. “You know,” you say, your voice suddenly dipping an octave but still oh-so soft, “I’d hate to leave here and not repay you for such great work.” Your hands find his and you begin playing with his fingers, his cock stirring as you do. “Is there anyway you can think of, Natsuo?” you ask, batting your lashes prettily at him.

Oh, does he. And he knows you exactly what when he has you lying down in his bed with your dress hiked up on your hips where his hands are and his tongue finally fucking your pussy. “Fuck, Natsuo!” you whine, your hands in his snow-white hair. “Please!”

He moans as he pulls his tongue out of your wet hole and stares up at you. “Stop what, honey?” he asks, smiling at your blissful expression. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To repay me?”

His thumb finds your clit and begins slowly rubbing it, relishing the way you squirm for him. “Well, now you can.”

#bnha smut #smutty smut #18+#drabble #bnha drabble #deku x black!reader #my works #my drabbles #bimbo reader #bakugou x fem!reader #hitoshi x fem!reader #natsuo todoroki x fem!reader #dabi x fem!reader #kirishima x fem!reader #chubby reader #black writers #shigaraki x fem!reader

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