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#bakugou
animepopheart · 2 days ago
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★ 【チーズ】 「 Hiropoke Summary + α 」 ☆ ✔ republished w/permission ⊳ ⊳ follow me on twitter
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trueshellz · 2 days ago
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Imagine yours and Bakugou's daughter running up to you while you're making breakfast one day, her little feet pitter pattering across the floor as she runs up to you both and tugs on your oversized t-shirt.
"Daddy, I'm going to marry Uncle Deku!"
"Ye- wait, what?!"
Katsuki was so used to saying 'yes' to his little girl, whatever she wanted, she got. Nothing was too much for him, the newest toy or the newest video game- she got it.
"Angel, why'd ya wanna marry Deku? Just stay with daddy forever ok?"
"No."
And there is the little pout, her bottom lip jutting out as she crosses her arms, you can't help the grin on your face as you plate up the food.
"But daddy, he's so handsome... he looks like a cute broccoli and always smiling, his eyes are sooooo big. I love him, daddy."
"Broccoli? Ya don't even eat broccoli! Look, ya can't marry Deku. He's too old for ya and anyway, he's married."
"But, daddy... you and Uncle Deku are the same age so you're old too."
A beat as Katsuki contemplated his daughter's words, the small twitch of his eye as he looked over to you in panic. Of course she chose to ignore that Deku was married, focusing instead on the first part of his sentence.
"Babe, just be happy she got out of her Kirishima and Kaminari phase."
Your words a singsong as you went to the table, another beat as Katsuki thought about what you said.
"Wait, what?!"
Next part: Break up
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keiskitten · 2 days ago
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i like when bakugou does the >.o
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dorysummers · a day ago
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Has anyone pointed this out yet?!
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Bakugou's fashion sense being influenced by Best Jeanist 😍🥰😍
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ohmi-ohmyj · 2 days ago
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335 bkdk panel redraw~✨ I couldn’t help myself… L O V E their expressions!
I’m so hype for a training montage!! 😩😩😩
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Pussyfooting Around Pregnancy
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b.katsuki / f.reader
genre: aged-up/prohero, established relationship (they married uwu), fluff, comfort/wholesome
warning(s): bakugou is anxious, him being anxious makes y/n anxious, y/n kinda freaks out a lil when bakugou tells her, a lot of anxiety all around but it's okay!, tiny mention of periods lol, mentions of pregnancy options/choices, it's a happy ending don't worry guys
synposis: you've been feeling sick the last couple weeks and bakugou finally convinced you to go to the doctors to find out why. when your doctor calls back to tell you the results of your tests, you're not around to take the call, so its bakugou who finds out first.
w.count: 5k
-x-x-x-
Bakugou, clad in his hero suit and in the middle of his workday, was currently on his way to the agency you worked at. He and the agency he was currently signed with had established a joint project with yours about a month ago and he was heading over there to finalize some paperwork for his superiors along with attending a very annoying meeting he didn't want anything to do with.
He sat behind the wheel of his car at a light, impatiently tapping his gloved finger against the wheel. His gauntlets were beside him and off his arm, one in the passenger seat and the other on the floorboard. His mask joined the two pieces of equipment to not block his vision or crumple against the roof of the car with its explosively sized headpieces.
In truth, he wasn't sure you were even going to be in the office today. Chances are you were out on patrol or running some errand during his time visiting. Honestly, he wished you would have stayed home.
The last couple of weeks you've been having random waves of nausea and sometimes it was so bad you'd stay curled over the toilet anticipating your stomach to reject whatever it could. And he'd hover around the bathroom- jumping between rubbing your back, asking if you were okay, and standing in the doorway completely at a loss to what he could do for you.
He had taken you to the doctors a few days ago, but the day you went, they were flocked and overloaded with patients and appointments left and right, so your doctor told you that he'd give you a call with results as soon as he got them. As far as Bakugou knew, you hadn't received any call yet; or if you have, you haven't told him.
Bakugou turns into the entrance of the agency's parking garage, stopping at the security booth before flashing his hero license and the yellow striped caution block was lifted and he was promptly permitted access. He clicks his tongue because he hates stopping to get into this damn garage, he'd think the security booth guards would just recognize his car by now and let him pass without fuss.
Parking, he opens his door before he was pushing it fully open with his boot, reaching over to his passenger seat and grabbing the rest of his equipment. Standing and putting his gauntlets on the top of the car he slipped his mask over his head, pushing it up onto his forehead as he leans back into the car to grab his keys and shove them in his pocket.
He slips his gauntlets on before flexing his hands, opening and closing them, and twisting his wrists and forearms before he was taking the elevator up to the agency's main lobby.
The ding of the elevator and the small hum of the doors opening alerted the receptionist sitting closest to the lift. She was one of two who sat behind the long desk. She smiles and greets him- pleased to see that he was on time as if he's even been later before anyways.
"Good afternoon, Ground Zero!" She cheers too cheerfully for his liking. All he wants is just a simple hello or even just a nod. Not a full-blown shout-fest.
"Yeah," he replies as he walks past her and the reception desk altogether, already knowing where he had to go.
"Just down the hall and into meeting room C, please!" The same, peppy receptionist calls out after him as he just lazily waves her off behind his shoulder.
"I know," he mutters to himself as he turns down the hall and out of her sight.
The meeting room he enters was long but basic. A table long enough to easily fit 15 people was in the center of the room. Beside the door was a small kitchenette with cabinets and a sink along with disposable cups and a small coffee pot. Even a minifridge was slotted in its own little cubby beneath the countertop.
Inside was only two people and he recognized both. One was your immediate superior who had been managing the project since the word go and the other was just another random intern he had seen in passing a few times.
Marching in, he slides off his gauntlets and partially begins wishing he had just left them back in his car before he parks himself in a chair away from the other two. He glances at the clock before he starts watching the intern flutter around to help make any final touches to the project or just assist the project leader with any last-minute detail for the near future meeting.
Bakugou withholds a groan- this meeting was going to drag, he thinks. He could feel it in his bones.
Two hours later and he was trudging out of the meeting room with too many people shoulder to should with him. When the meeting leader had finally brought the meeting to some sort of conclusion, Bakugou had never been more glad to leave an area before.
The moment he comes around the corner, he was approached by an agency member with a cellphone in her hand. It wasn't hers though, it looked exactly like yours. Before he could even begin to ask why the hell she had your phone, she starts talking.
"Oh, good! Your meeting's all finished up. Here," she quickly shoves the phone into his hand. "Y/n's phone started ringing in her locker, so I went to pick it up and tell whoever was calling to call back later, but it was her doctor."
"What?" He looks down at the blank, black screen. Her doctor finally called back? And of course, it has to be when she wasn't around to take the call.
"I told him that she wasn't at the agency, but you were around. He asked if you would call him back with her number since you're married and since she has you as someone with who he can share her medical information."
"Yeah," he spoke towards her blandly, but not really at her. He was hyper-focusing on the fact he was finally going to get some answers- he hopes. "Thanks," he quickly raises his hand that held your phone before he walks off towards the parking garage. He'd make the call in the privacy of his car, not in the agency lobby.
Slinking back into his front seat, throwing his gauntlets into his back seats instead of the passenger this time, he shut the door and promptly locks it before he lifts your phone to use it.
Punching in the passcode, he goes into your recent calls and taps on your doctor's numbers. Three monotone rings went by before the line clicks with someone picking it up.
"Katsuki Bakugou," he introduced himself quickly. "You called earlier when neither my wife nor I were available and I'm returning a call?" He states as his leg starts bouncing in anxiety. Why was he so nervous? He's taken plenty of calls for you before, why was this time making him so jittery?
"Thank you for the return," the older voice of your doctor speaks into the receiver before he starts on with the official doctor stuff. He talks about the tests you ended up doing, from physical tests and typical check-up exercises to verbal stress tests to make sure your mental health wasn't taking any swan dives.
During the call, Bakugou wasn't told anything all that remarkable. He could feel himself start to settle down and think that maybe you had just been working a bit too hard and needed a break. Although, all that relaxation disappears as your doctor clears his throat after a long pause.
"As to why your wife has been feeling ill and experiencing random fits of vomiting-" Bakugou's shoulders square, anxiously awaiting any gut-punching results, "-she happens to be pregnant, sir."
The silence on his end that sat in his car with him was mind-numbing.
"What?"
The rest of the phone call was a lot of him just humming affirmations and small 'okay's and 'yeah's just so he could finally hang up. When the line ends and the call finally drops, his hand falls onto his leg, the black screen of your phone facing the roof of his car.
His head was resting fully against his seat's headrest as he stares at the concrete wall outside his windshield that had small patches of spray paint on it.
"Pregnant?" He says aloud, almost to try and convince himself that that was the word he heard the doctor say. He was just told you were pregnant. You had a baby in your body. He... he gave you that baby.
His chest feels tight, like he has static in his bones. That tightness subsides into tingles before it tightens back up again. Digging into his center console he finds his own phone- he always keeps it in the car to avoid distractions during work hours.
Unlocking it, he sends a text to your phone that sits in his lap. The screen lit up with his text was sent successfully. He takes a breath, then another, and then one more before he gears himself to get back out and give your phone back to the receptionist who would give it someone to put back in your locker.
Once back in his car, he locks the doors and latches his seat belt. He looks at himself in his rearview mirror briefly before slipping his mask off his, pulling it up and over his forehead, and starting the car.
He needs to go home.
-x-x-x-
When you got back to your agency, the first thing you did was head back into the locker room, bolting for the showers. Just walking around on patrol today make you break into a decent sweat and your feet were killing you for some reason. Stripping from your suit in the privacy of a shower stall, you stop and look at your stomach, rubbing at it.
You thought back to your random nausea spells recently and you had noticed some bloating in your figure lately too. It wasn't too big a deal considering that it was around the time your period should be hitting, it just hasn't yet. You didn't find that unusual either- with work and the stress that follows, it wasn't odd for your period to skip a month from time to time.
So, since you hadn't started bleeding, you figure you were experiencing pre-period and actual period symptoms minus the blood. Which still royally sucked.
Stepping into the shower, you sigh as the water turnes warmer and warmer with your adjustment to the temperature. You wish sometimes you could just stay in a hot shower for the rest of your life. Though, you make your shower brisk since you would be finishing with your workday once you got dressed.
Walking to your locker with a towel over your body, you open it and grab your phone checking any notifications you may have missed. Your coworker had told you in passing that Bakugou had taken your phone while he was in the building for the dual project regarding both agencies. "Something about a doctor's visit or something," she had told you.
You assume he'd just tell you if you were sick or not when you see him next- be it at home or during a spare moment when you meet during work. Though, your stomach drops when you see a text from him sent hours ago on your lock screen below other notifications from social media and the like.
Katsuki:
Come home. Gotta talk
"Oh shit," you mutter to yourself in the locker room. Were you sick? Like horribly sick or something? Surely not, a few upset stomachs and headaches can't be cause for too much concern, can they? You feel like you had spiders in your chest as you get dressed, trying to think of what could cause him to send a text that short and that urgent-sounding.
He knew that when you had the chance, you'd check your phone. That's precisely why his simple 'come home' made you move just a bit faster than usual. You quickly sent a text before you leave the building, waving goodbye for the day to those still wandering around the agency.
Leaving the agency now. See you soon.
You often walk to work and back since it wasn't too far from the home you share with Bakugou. That and you two only owned one car and you insisted that he use it since his agency is further away and since it was his car first- he did have it before you two moved in together.
The walk home felt like an eternity. By the time your house came into your field of vision, you were suppressing the urge to run the remaining distance. At this point, the anxiety and curiosity that twisted into some witch's brew concoction in your gut were driving you insane.
Your house key feels like it weighs a ton as you fish it from your keychain and unlock the front door to step inside. Heeling off your shoes, you put them on the shoe rack by the door and lock it securely behind you.
"Katsuki, I'm back!" You call into the house. Walking inside, you stride into the living room where you toss your purse on the single recliner you had with a decorative throw blanket over the back of it.
Katsuki wasn't in the living room and you didn't hear him rustling around in the kitchen either meaning he was somewhere else in the house. It was so quiet though, if you hadn't seen his shoes on the rack you would've assumed he wasn't even home.
Thinking maybe the bedroom, you start down the hall only stopping midway when he steps out of the bathroom with a towel on his head and steam following him out the door. He hadn't heard you call that you were back so he stops short in stride when you nearly run into him.
"Oh!" You lightly yell more in surprise than anything. Wearing a pair of grey sweats, you wondered how he was able to get dressed in something so warm in a steamy bathroom. Doesn't he sweat just pulling them on? Or maybe he was used to it. "There you are."
He just nods, averting his gaze to the pictures framed on the wall and lazily rubbing the towel in his blond hair.
"Didn't hear you come in," he mumbles.
"Clearly," you tease, pushing your finger into his bare, still damp, chest. "Heard you took a phone call for me today?" You cut right to the chase and you couldn't help notice the way his body jolted at the mention of it. Freezing for just a moment before resuming movement. "Is that what we have to talk about?"
"Uh," he clears his throat, "yeah. It is." Bakugou flicks his eyes from your chest to your body to the walls and floors and even the tip of his own nose. However, he couldn't look you in the face yet. He still hadn't decided just how he was going to tell you.
"Katsuki, are you okay?" His behavior was anything but normal. His refusal to properly look or address you had the hair on the back of your neck standing up. His fidgeting by digging his heels into the floor or tapping the tips of his toes against his opposing leg didn't help quell the witch's brew in your stomach either.
You swore you felt sick again just from the tense atmosphere alone.
"Just, lemme get dressed," he lowly spoke. "Then we'll talk." He turns on his heel and shut himself in your shared room before you slowly, and hesitatingly, return to the living room. Sitting on the couch, you fumble and twiddle your thumbs in impatience.
Katsuki was never one to take his time getting dressed. Especially when at home and changing into comfy clothes. He was always eager to strip off the tight, rugged clothes for out of the house. So, after a few minutes pass and he was still in the room- you knew he was stalling.
Was what was wrong with you really that bad? So bad that he had to stall for time just so he didn't have to tell you about it? Would you have to call the doctor and ask him to tell you himself because Katsuki was too anxious to do it?
All the tension made you inwardly groan in frustration. Standing from the couch, you go into the kitchen where you know you had at least two more bottle of hard lemonades in the fridge. Maybe the small amount of alcohol in the drinks would help settle you down a little.
Though, the moment you twist the cap off the one glass bottle you had in your hand, Katsuki was screaming at you from the doorway.
"Don't drink that!" You nearly drop the bottle, slamming it back onto the counter in pure terror. You hadn't even heard him come out of the room, much less into the kitchen. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest thrice as hard with the added layer of temporary fear from his sudden appearance.
"Jesus, Katsuki!" You whirl around and glare at him. He had you all tense and now he's yelling at you without even announcing he was there at all. "What's your problem?" You didn't mean to sound so bitter or angry, but your anxiety about his apparent anxiety was driving you bonkers.
"Sorry, I just," he cuts himself off with a heavy breath and begins rubbing the back of his neck, once again not looking at you. You could see him better in the bright lights of the kitchen compared to the dim ones in the hall and you immediately felt bad for snapping at him. He really did look anxious; really anxious
"No," you sigh, rubbing your forehead and pushing the bottle of alcohol away from yourself. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Is there a reason you don't want me to drink?"
"Yeah, there is."
"Is it regarding the phone call we need to talk about?"
"Yeah," he repeats lamely, "it is."
You cross the kitchen to where he stood in the doorway and lightly start rubbing his arm, trying to get his coiled-up expression to smooth out and offer him something to mentally lean on.
"Look," you start softly, "I don't know what the doctor told you, or what's wrong with me. But it'll be alright, okay?" He wordlessly nods as he reaches and grabs your hand that was rubbing his arm, squeezing it reassuringly. "Let's go talk in the living room."
-x-x-x-
It had been about twenty minutes since the two of you relocated to sit on the couch.
Katsuki has since pulled your legs over his lap with his arm around your shoulders, his head resting against yours as his other hand tinkered around with your fingers. You spent a little while just chatting about random things to get him to calm down a little bit more.
But you knew you couldn't stall forever.
"Katsuki," you break the silence you both had been sitting in for a few minutes after your mindless rambles.
"I know," he huffs. "I'm not trying to stall, I just don't know how to say it." There goes that witches brew in your gut again and you swear it's rising to a boil to your chest.
"Well, am I like seriously ill or something?"
"No, you're not."
And then that witches brew that bubbled simmered. What? If you weren't sick then why was he so fussy? What had him acting like he was walking on pins and needles with you?
"Then what's wrong with me?"
"Well, nothing's 'wrong', it's just complicated."
"Complicated how?" He went silent again. "Katsuki, tell me what my doctor told you."
"You're pregnant."
"I'm sorry?" Was your immediate response without any thought process whatsoever. He hides his face in your neck with the smallest of whines; hiding away from sight as his arm around your shoulders tightens as if you'd jump off his lap and run away from him.
"He said," he takes a breath against your skin, "that you're pregnant. That's why you've been sick."
You're silent and the silence was more or less to be expected. At least you weren't trying to get up and fret about it. Though, maybe if you verbally announced your thoughts he knew you had tumbling around in your head right now, the silence wouldn't feel so thick. It was like invisible tar that started worming into the air making it harder and harder to breathe.
Bakugou lifts his head from your neck, moving his arm from your shoulder to push the palm of his hand into your head and instead push your face into his neck. His chin pushing into the top of your head.
"Y/n," he croons to try and get you to say something- anything about what's happened; what's happening.
"I'm," was all you manage to whisper against his skin as his fingertips start pushing your head further into him. "I'm pregnant?" You nearly whimper and Bakugou just keeps holding you tighter and tighter. "B-but-"
"Y/n, calm down. It's okay," he coos. Without much notice, your hands move to his chest and push him away from you- or at least you try. He doesn't let go of you though, holding you close to him and only tightening his grip with every one of your pushes.
"It isn't okay!" You cry and he can feel a collection of dampness on his skin now. "You- I- we," you hiccup, "we haven't even talked about kids before and now I'm pregnant?!" Your shoves soon halt and instead your hands are gripping so tightly against his shirt he thought the fabric would tear in your grasp. "Katsuki," you softly cry.
"I know," he hushes. "I know. It's okay. Just because we haven't talk about it before, doesn't mean we can't talk about it now."
"It's a little late to do that, don't you think?" You chuckle bitterly.
"It isn't." Slowly, Bakugou pulls you away from him, his arms releasing you only to cup your face and use the heels of his palms to lightly scrub your tear tracks away. "Y/n," he leans, tilting his head to meet your eyes. You notice the glistening in his eyes and the barely noticeable red around them. He must've had his time of crying earlier before you came home. "What do you want to do?"
"What?" You sniff.
"What," he put more emphasis on his words, keeping his tone level, "do you want to do?" One of his hands on your face dropped to your hip, starting to rub comforting circles on your side with his thumb. "It's your body, so you should make the choice."
"W-wait!" You panic, both of your hands reaching up to wrap around the wrist of his hand that still remained on your cheek. "That's not fair to you! I-I know it's my body and this wasn't planned, a-and we're both still young and always busy with work, b-but that's your baby too," you whimper, feeling another wave of tears wash behind your eyes and sting your nose. "I don't want to make this decision on my own."
There was a beat of silence that allowed Bakugou to think. He's already done his fair share of thinking today since that phone call, but he truly did believe that it boiled down to if you wanted to go through with this pregnancy or not. It was all just so sudden.
Although, that suddenness didn't make him any less excited. It bubbled in his chest the more he thought about it, but he knew he had to talk about it with you before he gets too caught up in daydreams of a family.
"Honestly," he sighs as you hold your breath. Part of you was ready for the brutal 'I'm not ready for a kid', spiel you were expecting, "I really want to have this baby." The gasp you almost to let out gets stuck in your throat as you started coughing, Bakugou quickly drops your face completely and begins rubbing your back to soothe you. "Holy shit," he hissed, "you okay?"
"Yeah, but just, hold on," you gasp, struggling to take in air and regulate your breathing. When you did, you look up at him, your eyes still glossy both from the coughing fit and your boomeranging emotions. "You want to have a baby with me?"
"What kinda stupidass question is that?" He asks incredulously with a tilted brow. "Of course I want a stupid kid with you. Just because the opportunity is presenting itself early, doesn't mean I'm not happy about it."
"So," you sniff, your hands running down your body to push lightly into your stomach, "if I said I wanted to keep it, you'd be okay with that?"
"Babe," he chuckles lightly and the sound of it already makes everything feel better. "If you told me you wanted to keep this baby right now, then I guess we're having a baby."
You smile back at him, nodding in small successions.
"Then, I guess we're having a baby," you confirm in repetition before you sniffle again and he's pinching at your sides, teasing you for crying so much when his eyes were just as wet as yours.
-x-x-x-
The next morning, Bakugou wakes before his alarm, as usual, and quickly moves to shut it off before it goes off and wakes you up. You were still tucked under his arm from the night before and he smiles at seeing how the swelling of your teary eyes from the night before has gone down.
Carefully slipping out from under you, he snatches his phone before he quietly leaves the bedroom. It was still early and the sun hadn't risen to nearly a high enough altitude to light the house as it was still half dark in his living room.
Strolling into the kitchen, he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge as he taps on his phone screen to call your agency. He knew the receptionists got in early and the bosses got there even earlier.
The moment his line was answered he quickly addresses himself and asks to be transferred to your supervisor who was in charge of your scheduling.
"It's rare that Ground Zero makes phone calls to me this early in the morning," Bakugou hears him jest as soon as the transfer was accepted. "What can we do you for this morning?"
"It's last minute, but Y/n can't come into work today."
"Oh? Is everything alright? I know her health has been a bit unstable recently."
"She's fine. Some stuff happened last night and I think she just needs to take a day and rest. She can fill you in tomorrow."
"Well, we'll just have to do without her today then. Take care of my employee, Ground Zero."
"Don't give me orders," he hisses before he hangs up. Next, he calls his own agency, giving them the same spiel, saying that he couldn't come because he had to stay home with you just for today. When all was said and done, he goes back into the bedroom.
The sun was higher and light was finally starting to filter into the room and surround it with natural light. He slides back into bed, causing you to stir as he lifts your head to put it back on his chest.
"What're you still doin' here," you slur, knowing that when Bakugou got up the morning, he was staying up. Today was different though.
He tufts. "What? Can't I just stay in bed with my wife for once?" He chuckles as he rolls to his side, your head falling to his bicep as he rests his other hand on your hip. "I called us both in, so we're staying home today."
Your eyes crack open at that. Bakugou hated taking time off work. He always said it feels like wasted time that he could have used for other things. It was a war to try and convince him to stay home when he was sick.
"You never call in."
"Yeah, never for myself. I called in for you though, so it's valid."
"What? But, I'm fine."
"Maybe," he hums. "But, we had a pregnancy bombshell dropped on us yesterday and on top of that, even if we decided to have the kid, we need a day to process it. So, stop complainin' and stay home with me dammit."
"'m not complaining."
Easily following his example, you were soon comfortable again and were quickly falling back asleep. Bakugou didn't fall asleep again but instead, he was soaking up the shared warmth of the bed and you as he scrolled on his phone to pass the time. At the very least, he could always hope to bore himself to sleep.
From reading stupid news articles, to scrolling mindlessly on social media, to even watching obscure videos he came across, he found ways to keep entertained while you peacefully slept. Later on in the morning, his phone buzzed in his hand with a message from Kirishima.
Shark Teeth:
Heard that you called into your agency? You good bro?
Bakugou rolled his eyes. It was true Bakugou not coming to work was rare, so it wasn't unusual for people to talk about it in small murmur for morning gossip. He just hates that people were still in his business when he wasn't even around. But, Kirishima was also way too nosy and too good-natured to mind his own damn business in the first place, even for one measely day.
He looked down at you still asleep, dead to the world, and smiles again- that giddiness returning and spreading through his chest like sparklers as he texts his closest high school friend back.
Don't fuckin' tell anyone yet, but we're having a kid
-x-x-x-
a/n: no, but why did writing this give me the warm and fuzzies? was bakugou ooc? probably (most definitely) but I don't care because a grown-up, well-communicated, and sOFT blond boy is exactly what the doctor ordered. lemme know what you thought by sending in an ask, or reblogging with comment, or even replying to this post!
i mean it- give me some feedback guys, i'm not below begging
also! i tried writing more in the present tense? kinda? so sorry if anyone noticed the perspective between present and past tense constantly changing >>" i tried ;-;
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ghostbeam · 2 days ago
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Cant stop thinking about how Bakugou subconsciously takes care of you. Bakugou whipping food off of your face for you, chuckling at ur mess and pecking your lips afterwards. Bakugou stopping you on a walk, standing in front of you and untangling the necklaces around your neck while you continue to talk about whatever happened at work that day. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing these things. Smooths a stray hair down, always ties your shoes for you, grabs your phone from the kitchen because you ALWAYS forget it in there after you’ve made yourself a snack. Your friends think it’s cute. Most people notice it before either of you do. The way he makes you drink water in between drinks at a party, the way he keeps a spare hair tie on his wrist for you, the way he squeezes your hand when you walk into a room full of people cause he knows it makes you nervous. It’s never been something he has to think about Looking after you is second nature to him.
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pochipop · 23 hours ago
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had this idea for sooo long & i think ur the perfect person to bring it to life (especially w bakugo bc you write him so well, like it's insane, your portrayl of his him is always spot on) ,,, anyhow, thank u sm if you do this!! ,,, (pro hero au) bakugo, aizawa, hawks, fatgum, and amajiki reacting to/tending to their s/o after them being hurt on the job?
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REACTING TO AN INJURED LOVER ― BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA.
content warning(s) ; mentions of wounds/injuries.
characters ; bakugo, aizawa, keigo, taishiro, amajiki.
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𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 forces his way through the crowd, shoulders pushing against strangers in order to reach your side. In typical fashion, you could hear him coming from a mile away, scolding people, demanding they get out of his way or inform him of your location amongst the medical staff on site. You stifle a laugh, knowing now isn't exactly the time to be giggling under your breath at his antics, ―and even more so, you're not sure your ribs would take kindly to the vibrations. When his eyes meet yours, there's an equal mixture of elation and dread that swims through your veins. . . He's mad, and you knew that much before he's reached you, but there's a spark of intense worry glimmering behind the scarlet of his irises, and you feel guilty for being the cause of it.
"You dumbass!" He yells, but his gaze betrays him almost as harshly as his actions, ―hot hands reaching out to poke and prod at your skin in a surprisingly gentle manner, "how many times have I told you not to go off on your own?"
It's hard to meet his eyes when they brim with so much unadulterated intensity. His emotions are raw, and he wears the anger on his sleeves, but this is so much more than simple aggravation. He's disappointed, in himself more than you or anyone else, for not being there, ―for not being able to protect you as he's always promised he would.
"I did what I had to do," you insist, "there wasn't time to get help. If I'd hesitated, those people would have lost their lives."
You're right, and Bakugo knows it, but that makes him all the more frustrated.
"What did the medics say?" He questions, hands trailing to your face as he tilts your head from side to side, assessing the damage.
He may be obnoxious and rude, hot-headed unlike any other, ―but he burns for you like a well-kept campfire; tempered and controlled.
"No major injuries," you assure him, "just some cuts and scrapes, and maybe some bruised ribs. Nothing that won't heal itself naturally if I give it some time and get rest."
He doesn't even bother to hide the sigh of relief that passes through his lips. The hands on your cheeks steady the lolling of your head to the mercy in the warmth of his palms before dropping to your shoulders. His grip is gentler than you've ever known it to be, ―as if he thinks you're made of porcelain and he's scared you'll shatter into pieces at his feet.
"If you ever do that again, I'll kill you myself," he mumbles out an empty threat, eyes softening now that he knows you're going to be okay.
You crack a smile and reach up, four fingers wrapping around his thumb. It's the first time he's never edged your hand away in a feign of disgust, embarrassed that people might see him and notice the deep-rooted love he has for you. He crouches before you, pulling your hand with him, sparing a few glances at the people around him, ―as if making sure they're not staring at him, at this vulnerable state he's found himself in at your liberty. Somehow, you manage to stop yourself from threading your fingers through his hair. You mumble an apology to him for scaring him, for making him worry about you. Bakugo doesn't have the strength to deny either. He lets out another heavy sigh.
"Come on," he beckons, "leave the civilians to the others and the medics to the injured. I can deal with your wounds at home."
𝑨𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂 hasn't been this scared in heaven knows how long. You're not one to act irrationally, not one to take risks if you've yet to calculate their rate of success, ―but today, things had gone south so fast that none of the pros had time to rethink, regroup, or restrategize. What you did was necessary, and Aizawa dares to think that's the reason it pains him so badly to see you like this, the beginning stages of hefty bruises littering your face and upper torso, cuts snaking up your arms and down to your hands where your purple knuckles stare up at him woefully.
"Scale of one to ten?" He asks, keeping his hands to himself for now.
He's uncertain as to whether or not his touch would do any good. The last thing Aizawa wants to do in this situation is exacerbate the injuries, ―make you feel any worse than you clearly already do.
"Five," you answer, though he can't help but to think you're downplaying it for his sake.
Even now, you're thinking more about him than yourself, and it makes him want to wrap his arms around you tight enough to meld his skin to yours, hard enough that he could sink into you and make everything feel okay.
"Don't give me that look," you force a smile onto your face, but the pull of your wounded cheeks makes it look more like a grimace than anything else, "it looks a lot worse than it feels, I promise."
It's an empty promise, but Aizawa could have told you that long before the words left your tongue.
"You did the right thing," he says as he takes a seat beside of you, sure to keep a few inches between your bodies, "as much as I hate saying that now. I look at you and I know you're hurting, and I. . . I wish I could make it all stop for you. But we both know you did what you had to do, ―what the rest of us couldn't do fast enough."
He hates that you're shouldering this pain alone. If his quirk were able to erase that for you, he'd do it in a heartbeat. But you already know that.
"Thank you," you say to him, so genuinely that it makes his heart clench, "that means a lot to me. Especially coming from you."
Aizawa feels so small next to you. You're the entirety of the righteous and moral world encapsulated into a human being, and he's. . . Something less than that, from his point of view, ―something so miniscule, and yet you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky above your head at night, and he wonders why, especially in moments like this.
He stares at you so longingly, as if there's a million things he wants to say, but hasn't a clue how. You don't press him on it, either. He seems to be taking your injuries harder than you are. . .
"I'm okay," you assure him, "I really am. All of this will heal. I just have to give it time."
"I know. I know. It's just hard to see you like this and not be able to do anything about it," he responds, eyes downcast in guilt, or even shame.
"I'll let you disinfect these cuts and make me dinner," you say, hoping to lighten the mood, "―how's that sound?"
Finally, he cracks a smile.
"Sounds good to me."
𝑲𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒐 knows you. He knows you're so beyond capable of holding your own in any situation that comes your way, and he trusts you, ―trusts your abilities and your instincts to guide you. But he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't scared out of his mind when word of your accident and subsequent injuries found their way to him. He dropped everything all at once to race to your side like the world was ending on your behalf. You were no stranger to small cuts and miniscule bruises every now and again, but these were different, ―noticeably deeper and undoubtedly more painful. Your eyes look glazed to him, and it sends another shockwave of horror to his restless heart.
"You need stitches," he states firmly, "this wound on your head looks bad, and there's a lot of blood."
"You're a pro hero, Keigo, not a doctor," you joke with him, hoping to settle his obvious nerves.
It's the first time you've ever seen him so frazzled by something, especially in regards to you. He's calm and cool, known for his ability to act like nothing's wrong even when the world is crumbling, ―and yet now's the time when he loses it? Over a minor head injury?
"I've already been checked over, and it's nowhere near as bad as it looks to you. Head wounds tend to bleed more because the skin there carries more blood, and skin tends to be thicker along the scalp. I don't have a concussion, and honestly, it doesn't hurt all that bad. . . It's just a dull ache now," you elaborate.
Watching him as his eyes rake over every last inch of you, rapidly so, searching for injuries of any kind, is charming in one way, and hilarious in another. It's hard to believe this is the thing that's sending him off the deep end, despite him having more serious injuries than yours on a number of occasions. For what it's worth, you reach out to him and place a soft hand atop the crown of his head.
"Alright," he breathes out, a stillness tempering the air around him.
The static that once shot through him is toned down by the feeling of your touch, ―you really are fine, standing in front of him proudly, even with blood all in your hair and bruises littering your form. Keigo thinks for a moment that he's falling all over again.
"You have to rest after this, though," he tells you, "no complaining, no whining about going back to work for at least a few days. Understood?"
He knows that even if you agree to those terms now, you'll be arguing to throw you hat back in the ring by morning, ―it's just who you are, and he loves that, although he wishes you'd take better care of yourself.
"Understood," you tell him half-heartedly, just to appease him for the time being.
The rest of this can be discussed at home, in the comfort of your shared bedroom. You suspect he'll order takeout and bring it to you in bed since there's not any way in hell he's letting you cook dinner, and he certainly isn't capable of doing that himself. He's handy in many ways, but in the kitchen just isn't one of them. . . And that's okay.
"Let's go home now. I'll help you wash up, ―get that blood out of your hair before it matts up," he tells you.
"You have work to finish, don't you? Just go back, I'll take care of things and be waiting for you, I'll go straight to the apartment, I swear."
"Everyone already knows I'm not returning today," he scoffs, "you think I'd ever let someone as hard-headed as you go off on your own like this? You'd save a kitten from a tree, scold a kid stuffing candies into his pockets without paying, help an old woman cross the street, and help someone carry their groceries to their car before even thinking about taking some time for yourself, ―I know you."
You giggle, and it melts his heart. It feels so good to hear that from you after all of this. . . It's elating.
"Guilty," you acknowledge, "but just for this evening. You're going back to work tomorrow morning."
He most certainly is not.
𝑻𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒐 is scared out of his mind, but he knows better than to let you see that. It'll only make things worse if you see him shed any tears over this, ―you'll end up being the one comforting him, when it should be and needs to be the other way around.
You know he's worried for you, but don't mention it to him, even in hopes of putting an ease to his apprehension. It's best if you leave things be, speak when he speaks to you, answer his questions honestly, no downplaying the pain and no overplaying it either.
"Where does it hurt the most?" He inquires, golden eyes brimming with all the emotions you hate to see on him the most.
The way he cares is so evident and bold, like he's been waiting all his life to hold you, to have you, to keep you, and he's scared of anything taking you away. It burns boiling hot inside of him, the urge to keep you safe and healthy, happy and smiling, and now that you're here with this pained expression on your face, he feels like he's let you down. He's kicking himself for letting this happen, for being unable to act in your place. Taishiro would switch positions with you in a heartbeat if he could, ―he'd take every laceration just to see you smile at him and not have to search for a grimace behind it.
"Shoulder," you respond, "that's the only place it really hurts at all. The rest of it is just some little cuts, ―they stung at first, but it's mostly gone by now."
"Okay, that's good, then," he seems to sigh inwardly in relief, "―not good that you're in any pain, but good that it's a lot less damage than it could have been."
He didn't need the qualifier, you understood what he was saying without it, but it seems to widdle away at his tension to talk, let him hear your voice and get a response in return, so you leave it be.
"Right," you nod, eye scrunching up in pain when a shock of pain slits through your nerves.
"Don't make any quick movements," he tells you quickly, "as soon as we get word that we can leave, I'll take you straight to the hospital to have them check you over."
"I don't think that's really necessary, it's just a muscle strain, Tai―"
You stop.
The look on his face is begging you to leave this be, to let him have this one thing that he can turn to in order to make ineffably sure that you're okay. You can't possibly say no when he's staring down at you like this, gaze pleading for you to just listen and go along with him. He needs to know that nothing more serious has happened, that there's no long-term damage or any underlying issues that need to be addressed.
"Just to be sure," he whispers, "please?"
Your lips purse into a thin line.
"Yeah, alright," you cave, "that's for the best anyway, I'm sure. . . Better to be safe rather than be sorry later on."
He nods, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are so warm against your skin, you almost purr at the feeling.
"Thank you," he leans down, pressing his lips to the spot on your forehead where his digit had ghosted.
Anything to put him at ease.
𝑨𝒎𝒂𝒋𝒊𝒌𝒊 panics. Jitters surge through his body, —he's just as beat up as you are, but his concern for his own wellbeing went out the window the moment he saw you crumpled on the ground. His heart pounds like a drum, far too loud for comfort, and he can feel his pulse in his ears. The sound of his own heavy footsteps against cement leaves him reeling. . .
"Y/n?" His voice shakes, your hero name all but lost on him in the moment.
To him, you're not a pro hero, you're not an injured savior, you're not just another variable in collateral damage. To Amajiki, you're the soft spot he falls towards when the going gets tough, the lap he rests his head on. You're the smile that keeps him pushing through, the person that's given him more self-confidence than he could ever imagine having. To him, you're the world in a person, the universe even, a full-fledged infinity, —and seeing you like this shakes the very foundation he's standing on.
"It's okay," you look up at him, indigo irises swimming with panic and worry.
Seeing him like this hurts just as bad as the wounds on your body. Those will heal with given time, but this mental image of him, the one you love so dearly, looking down on you with such a devastated expression. . . That will last much longer.
"It's not okay," he moves without thinking, regard for his own injuries thrown to the wind with reckless abandon.
"It will be, then," you give him a slightly strained, but no less genuine, smile.
Your hand touches his in a gingerly fashion, warmth spreading from your fingers to the very core of his heart.
"This is just part of the job," you tell him, "and we both know that. But I'm worried for you too, so I guess I shouldn't be giving you any lectures on this."
Amajiki wants to throw his arms around you and pull you in close, —so close that he'll feel your heartbeat against him, feel your pulse against his skin. He wants to breathe you in, wrap himself around you, let you do the same for him. It's not in the best interest of either of your bodies, not with all these bruises, cuts, and otherwise tender spots, but. . . The heart wants what it wants.
"I'm sorry," he offers you a shy smile, "I don't mean to make you worry for me."
"It's just natural," you shift slowly, arm coming around to hold your stomach in pain, offering some kind of stability for yourself, "worry comes with the territory when you care about someone."
You're right, and it warms his heart to know you feel the same, —to know that you feel equally as inclined to do everything in your power for him, just as he does for you.
"Let's take care of each other then," he offers in a small, almost embarrassed tone.
Who were you to turn down such a thing? And more importantly, —why would you ever want to?
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mha-quotes-and-such · 2 days ago
Bakugou: You can trust me. Let's not forget who pulled you out of the river when we went camping
Midoriya: ...that was Iida. You pushed me in
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trueshellz · 12 hours ago
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Previous part: Dating Deku
Yours and Bakugou's daughter, who is nothing like her daddy except for the red eyes. Where he's brash and to the point, she is cute and bubbly, always smiling and has a heart of gold. So imagine the anger, the fury, he feels when one day after patrol he comes home to his daughter bawling her eyes out at the school gate.
"Daddyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
"Wh-what? What?! Tell me, angel. Who do I need to kill?"
Bakugou completely ignores the looks he gets, who cares that he is surrounded by all the parents and dressed in his hero outfit, gauntlets in the car and a hoodie tugged over his torso with his hair pinned back using his mask. His little girl is crying and someone is going to pay for it.
"I broke up w-with my boyfriend! He-he said... he said that he was a Deku fan so... so he couldn't go out with me anymore."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
"An-angel, when did you get a boyfriend?"
Bakugou is completely lost for words, absolutely seething in anger that a) his daughter had a boyfriend, b) said boyfriend was a Deku fan and now c) said boyfriend is now an ex-boyfriend. The ride home is eventful, with his daughter crying and Bakugou conspiring with ways to go after the kid, even contemplating asking Deku for help with this and by the time he's gotten home to you he's losing his shit.
"Our daughter broke up with her boyfriend today. Boyfriend! Did you know about this?"
"Which one?"
"Which...which one? There's more?! How many has she had?"
You turned confused as he started tapping away at his work phone, forehead creased in concentration as he shook his gloves off to type faster.
"Why?"
"I need to figure out how many jail cells I need to clear out."
A/N: Daddy Bakugou is my crack
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shutupextras · 23 hours ago
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saw you were doing requests so how about a classic bakugou x reader where he goes out with the reader as a bet, but ends up falling for them, angst to fluff please <33
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pairing(s): bakugo x y/n authors note: hello! thank you SO much for this request, i had so much fun writing it! i hope this is good enough :) Sorry that it's so short :( REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN! :) content warning: cursing
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You and Bakugo had been dating for around six or seven months now. He asked you out, and you were completely and totally shocked. It almost felt too true to be real...and unfortunately for you, it was. "You did what?" You froze, staring at Bakugo in shock, face twisted up in pain and anger. "So this whole thing, our entire relationship was just a game to you?!" You scoffed, eyes watering up. "At the beginning, yes." Bakugo angrily muttered in return, crossing his arms. "But, now, no...I truly do love you. Regardless of that stupid bet with fucking Denki." Bakugo rolled his eyes. "You fucking..." You muttered, sliding your shoes on. "Come on, dumbass, I just told you I loved you! I know I fucked up at the beginning but you're just being petty now!" Bakugo scoffed, as you looked up at him in disbelief. "I'm being petty?! Bakugo, I was a fucking bet! A bet!" Your voice cracked, tears falling down your face, Bakugo taken aback by the use of his last name in comparison to what you normally call him. "The goddamn best bet I've made, so calm down! I love you, so much. What more do you want?!" "An apology!" You spoke, tears soaking your face, as he sighed. "Look, I'm sorry." Bakugo muttered. "I'm sorry, alright? But...please don't just get up and leave! You're one of the least annoying people I know. That bet simply brought us together. Everything I've said for the past 5 months has been completely truthful." Bakugo flipped his head, bending down. "I'm going to hug you..." Bakugo sighed out, wrapping his arms around you, as you continued crying. You were hurt...but you loved Bakugo so much. And you were pretty sure he was being truthful. If he didn't actually like you, he'd probably have broken up with you by now, right? "I'm still mad at you, just so you know." You muttered. "But...I'll forgive you for now." You muttered, wiping your tears. "...Thank you" Bakugo muttered out. "Can you make me my favorite food?" You giggled a bit, wiping your tears again as he sighed. "Whatever." He sighed, as the two of you got up. "Can I kiss you?" Bakugo sighed out, as you nodded. He cupped your face, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. He pulled apart from you and wiped the tears off your face. "I'm sorry I made you cry." Bakugo crossed his arms. "Can we also watch my favorite movie tonight? And possibly could you get me this necklace I've been looking at?" You laughed a bit again, as he glared towards the last part. "Mind you, I shouldn't be forgiving you." You muttered, as he sighed. "Fine." Bakugo trailed off, as you kissed his cheek. "I love you...even though I'm still partially mad at you and slightly hurt." "Yeah, thanks and sorry...I love you too."
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