I am the biggest simp for praise kinks and Dabi. Thank you !!
Dabi normally isn’t one for words. He’s more a thinker than anything else. Only opens his mouth to say the bluntest of things – unless you’re on your back and he’s his fat cock squeezed inside you. Maybe it’s because he’s drunk on the feeling of your wet, convulsing walls trying to milk him for all he’s got. Maybe he’s just a foul asshole with no filter.
He’s gripping your calves firmly, pressing your thighs plush against your chest. You can hardly breathe with his smothering, but it’s not like he cares.
He’s panting, sweat dripping off his scarred body. His hot breaths fan at your reddened face. His tongue starts to roll out and lap at your cheek, muttering the filthiest sweet nothings at you.
“You’re taking this cock so damn well,” he coos, calloused fingers digging into the meat of your legs as he pumps against your cunt. “Milking me so damn well…”
Your whines and moans drive him mad. With a face like yours, an expression so twisted and contorted from the pressure he’s building inside you, why wouldn’t he praise you?
“Got me goin’ deeper each time, huh baby?” He groans, throwing his head back. His eyes seem to disappear into his head. “Such a good little bitch for me…”
You’re not sure what’ll get you first – his words or his dick.
hunting ghosts and horribly flirting chapter seven: come get us, la llorona!
with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou
genre : [ ☀︎ ] fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~
hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?
author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!
A/N Please enjoy what I’ve been self indulging all week. It was a cliche but fun concept to write! @bakugotrashpanda this is the fiction I was dming you about bb. Yall readers leave your thoughts pls bb enjoy~
He hasn’t fed in days, no make that fucking weeks.
Months even although he has tried.
Hoping some stupid fool would venture out during this pandemic and now mandatory quarantine.
Not that the threat of the disease mattered to him, his body would correct whatever ailment in a matter of seconds.
And he needed to eat.
But as usual he has some shit luck. Not a single soul left on the once packed streets.
And there you sit all the temptation in the world, your sweet scent was already hard enough to endure during the few hours you were normally home. Causing the ash blonde to avoid any of the “community” spaces of the dingy shared apartment.
Only agreeing to have you move in since you has claimed you would hardly be home as you were too busy with work.
So busy in fact you could never come by to see the place in person. Further encouraging the angry recluse’s decision.
But had you ever come in person he would have denied you, turned you away no matter the price you were willing to pay.
And especially so if you begged.
Because you fucking reeked.
So repulsively pungent that after just meeting you his throat closed up, eyes narrowing to slits as he felt a deep ache within him.
Going out that very night draining three people drops from dry.
Fuck, who was he fucking fooling?
He never liked liars and he was never good at lying either.
You were far from repulsive really.
You were fucking delectable, irresistible.
Sweet scent lingering in the apartment for hours, clinging to the fabric of the couch, the peeling wallpaper like the smoke of a cheap cigarette, clinging to his skin.
If he was that fucked up over your scent how heavenly would you be on his tongue?
He could imagine from what little he felt he could taste in the air during your full moon. Causing his vision to narrow on that steady strong pulse lying just beneath glowing skin.
He has to force himself to leave even if he’s just fed, one whiff had him thirsty all over again. He’d turned full glutton from just the smell of you, draining a dozen at a time and yet no amount could please him.
His fangs poke his lower lip now, aching with the urge to sink into tender flesh from just the thought. His salvia already secreting that deadly addictive oxytocin that would bring euphoria to both parties.
He swallows hard but it does nothing to satiate his thirst.
His ever drying throat.
Scarlet eyes cut to the door as he hears the soft pad of your feet stop before the fragile wood that separates the beast from beauty. You rise your capable fist tapping the door gently.
“B..Bakugou…"Your voice is soft as you call through the thick oak. He smells salt in the air causing his stomach to twist.
Were you crying? His throat tightens, muscles screaming for him to move. That this moment, this vulnerability was a golden opportunity to wet those aching fangs. Blunt nails dig into heated palms as he hopes to wait you out but here you go again becoming wholly undeniable.
"Sorry to bother you.” You say so softly he almost didn’t catch it over the shuffling of your feet.
His heart breaks in two as he lunges for the door, biting back more than just his words.
His eyes seem to glow blood red in the low light of the hall, causing you to step back.
There was an intensity to his gaze you could never quite place.
It was as if he hated you and wanted to consume you whole all at once.
Desire burns through your veins especially so when a soft caramel scent is wafted from his room.
You swallow thickly, red eyes dart down and fixate on your throat, a blush creeps over your skin from the obvious blooming bruises.
Why did you have to have your throat EXPOSED?!
Where were your normal oversized hoodies that hid away your sins that you now display openly?
Fading black bruises and pink teeth indents that drove him fucking wild.
Someone dared to mark you and a fucking weak mortal at that.
Bakugou didn’t think you had a boyfriend or girlfriend for that matter but you had been smelling like the same male the past few times you ventured out only to return in the late hours of the night.
And long before this house arrest bullshit happened too.
He stares down, body rigid as he is almost fearful to move. One twitch of his finger could set him off, pouncing onto you to leave the markings of a true male.
Instead he grinds his teeth, canines scrapping the inside of his lip. All the while you begin to feel dumb for seeking comfort from a roommate who barely looked your way.
And when he did it set your skin ablaze. A cold sweat runs down your spine as you take a step back.
There wasn’t a lot you were scared of in the world, what with being a hero and all.
But there was just something about your roommate that unsettled you.
Whatever it was it sat on the tip of your tongue and when the word was to tumble from your mouth you’d look into that heated gaze and the thought would combust into hot flames.
That licked over every inch of your body.
“I uh….” You stammer, dumbstruck for the first time in your life. Swallowing your pride almost choking on it as you half shout.
“I want to play a game or watch a fucking movie with someone. You can pick but…” He watches one arm cross beneath your breasts, pushing them up a tad, while the other hand covered your throat, making its way up to block your plush lips as you look away. He’s noticed this about you in the past year of living with you.
Normally you hold your head high, voice boisterous ringing with confidence but you seemed to curl in on yourself when you spoke to him.
“But I just need someone right now.” It comes out soft, borderline desperate as he watches your fingers punch harshly into the skin of your ribs.
He stares you down, fully taking in the bags beneath your eyes. The way your normally glowing skin is slightly lackluster and the red rims of your bottom eye lids.
He hasn’t smelt you cook anything in the past few days and there weren’t any snack for you to munch on in the house.
You can’t stand how his red eyes slice through you like a scalpel. Blade so sharp you notice you’re exposed much too late.
With an explosion of your limbs your hands are on your hips, teeth bared before you turn on your heel, yelling.
Fighting back angry, hurt tears.
“You know what, this was fucking stupid. Forget I ever…” A strong hand wraps around your bare bicep, warm to the touch.
“Quit being fucking dramatic and give a man a damn second to answer.” He snarls, pulling back his hand as if he touched a burning stove, “I’ll make something to eat.”
“I’m not being dramatic!” You screech, wholly proving his point. His eyes narrow on the nape of your neck before watching your jaw clench and the quickening tick of that juicy artery.
Still you stomp to the living room, picking up voicing to the hologram to pull up the movie archive. Clearly picking for him.
There was no point in him making enough for two as eating never silenced the ever present growl in his belly or the ache in his teeth. For ever robbed the joy of eating, of cooking.
Everything tasted either tasted like soggy cardboard, salted sawdust, or like ashes of the ghost that food once was.
That’s what Bakugou had hated the most about this curse that was placed on him almost a century ago was how much it stole from him.
His sense of taste.
Some days even his desire to live.
He rounds the peninsula of the kitchen with what he’s deemed your favorite, placing it into surprised hands.
He must have been right as blush creeps on your cheeks. You take a few bites still scrolling while your thoughts slowly take over.
When was the last time you’d seen him eat? He always cooks but then leaves the containers in the fridge for you with a sticky note scrawled with his roughly neat scrawl.
“Y/N, Eat this before it goes bad dumbass.”
You tap the fork to your lips pondering over the mystery that is Bakugo Katsuki.
“Why don’t you ever eat what you cook?” Your curiosity slips out in the form of a question. He side eyes you before nodding at your food silently demanding you finish eating.
“It’s never what I’m hungry for.”
His voice sends goose flesh over your skin, hairs on your neck standing straight up before you swallow.
What the fuck was wrong with you?
Acting like this and in front of a guy you barely knew.
Well, that’s partially a lie, you knew a little about him from observing him from time to time.
He’d stay up way too late and would come to the love seat only after he thought you were in deep sleep.
When he is really agitated his skin pops like little fireworks dancing along his forearms which usually only happened when someone named Deku called.
He’d do what he’s doing now, despite the harsh look in his ever angry scarlet eyes he cooks for you.
Changes your laundry over when you forget with a scoff but most oddly he indulges you.
Like he is now, sitting squished on the love seat with you, legs spread just enough to avoid touching you.
You give him a glance and finish eating, finally selecting a movie as you’re done.
His eyes widen for a moment as you select a movie that would have been considered old even in his time. It stirs odd feelings in his stomach.
“Really, there’s 3D movies and shit. And you wanna watch a movie that’s not even in color?” He snorts, you would pick this one wouldn’t you?
“We must always remember the classics.” Is all you say, settling in. Fluffing the blanket over you both and even having the audacity to lean closer to him. You notice his rigid muscles beneath you but you’re so desperate for touch that leaning against this stiff board was far better than spending another night alone with your ever twisting mind.
Slowly he melts into your touch, gulping mouthfuls of your scent but enjoying you none the less.
Realizing that he too had been touch starved.
When was the last time he held someone in his arms?
Hell when was the last time he was this close to someone without feeding?
Ten, twenty years?
It didn’t matter, he outlived them anyway so why bother getting attached.
Soon a comfortable quiet settles over the old apartment as it is painted in the soft tones of blacks and grays.
Voices mingling in the air as Bakugo silently agrees with some of the lines.
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
He feels that way about you, of all the cheap apartments you could have looked at online you chose his.
You with the smell like no other.
Sweet enough to somehow get him to watch this shitty movie again, he puts his head in his palm watching the old film play out.
How many times had he been forced to watch this in the common room of the dorms all those fucking years ago?
And then again in shared apartments when nothing else was on or when Bakugo would lose rock paper scissors.
“Remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart.”
"That’s my least vulnerable spot.” Bakugou grumbles in unison with the long gone actor.
Your ears perk, having never pegged him to like such a heart wrenching movie. You giggle, earning a glare and a bark.
“Its just I never would have dreamed you’d ever sit down and watch this movie willingly.”
“You’re right. I wouldnt. Shitty hair…” He clears his throat, “Kirishima, for whatever fucking reason, used to love this movie. Said it was manly and honorable or some shit like that.”
“Used to?” Silence stretches between the two of you for a moment until he sees you fully engaged on him.
His heart twists as he looks down on you and he begins to wonder if your quirk is to pull out unsolicited emotions. His fangs don’t ache nearly as much as his chest as he pushes through the feeling.
A feeling he hardly allows himself to have. Thinking of his best friend who so hurt by this curse he refused to feed on humans.
But animals couldn’t suffice, their bodies needing something in human blood in order to maintain their peak form.
It took him twenty years before he stopped eating all together.
And when he neared the end, neared the point of starvation where instincts would take over he amplified his quirk until he turned to stone.
Oddly enough he’s a shrine relic now.
“He passed recently.” Five decades was recent to Bakugou.
Your heart stills in your chest as you see real emotion bloom on his face. Cheeks slightly flushed, eyes almost watery as the bitter nostalgia washes over you in waves.
Without thought you lunge for him, wrapping sturdy arms around his neck to pull him into the comfort of your body as your fingers rake through his hair. Pushing his face against your warm skin.
His nose is pressing into your throat as your sickeningly sweet smell floods his mouth but that isn’t even the worst part.
No the worst part is that he can feel your pulse against his lips.
It was like putting a starving dog in front of a steak and telling him not to eat.
His teeth grew on their own and he cannot stop himself as his strong arms wrap around you, pushing you ever closer before he sinks his aching canines into your tender flesh with a groan.
Oxytocin floods your system produced by both his body and your own.
He opens his mouth further, ready to suck in a mouthful of what he’s been dying to taste. His pupils dilate and his pants grow tighter at the sound of your soft moan.
He is suffocating, drowning in the dizzying sweet smell that melds beautifully with that metallic tang he cannot get enough of. He wants to savor this sinful high before he has a taste.
Meanwhile you body sears and freezes all at once as a tingling sensation spreads through your body starting at the nape of your neck.
As if a ghost traces its finger along your spine causing you to turn into putty.
“Fuuuuck, Katsuki.” You groan. The sound of his name leaving your lips feels as if he’s been plunged in a pool of cold water.
He jumps away from you, nails biting into his palms hard enough that half blood moons will surely litter his hands.
Panting as he tries to keep his tongue away from his canines that drip deliciously maddening red.
Fearful if he gets even just a drop on his tongue he’ll kill you.
He’ll drain you dry and leave you to rot in the already decaying apartment.
It takes your head a moment to fall down from the stratosphere before the small holes in your throat close seamlessly with a sharp bite.
You press your hand to the wound, only small specks of blood not yet dried paint your palm.
Shocked eyes rove over the muscular body as things start to slowly piece themselves together.
The explosive temper, ash blonde hair, piercing red eyes, an intensity unmatched and that popping quirk he used when extremely agitated.
Instantly the picture in the old text book pops into mind as you imagine the man before you with a black cowl.
The whole section about his story, about how he and two other heroes had been attacked, bitten, by some immortal being. They shortly fell off the face of the Earth after that.
Mind going into overdrive as your memory floods with the text of files you’ve been assigned and the voice of the woman you just recently interviewed.
She was the same age as you. Later twenties, petite, long fire red hair with glossy eyes who was mysteriously left in front of the hospital. Suffering from severe blood loss but not a wound in sight.
Not even a fucking scratch.
And worst yet she wasn’t the first one. There was one daily and dozens when it neared the ended of the month. Worst yet there was never any video of the perp, just a glitch in the frame before the victim is lying helplessly by the entrance.
Still her slurred words haunt you as you think of her response to your question.
“He was hot. Strong muscles, smelled sweet, like candy and nostalgia. He looked so familiar, like an old movie star or something….”
Or maybe she was thinking of an old hero.
“Ground Zero.” The hero name sounds foreign to the panting blonde.
Shit when was the last time he heard that name?
The sound of his old alias brings up surging memories that fist fight with the smell of the blood on his fangs.
Of an overly arrogant boy who was so scared to fail he hardened his heart.
A heart that begin to break while he watched his idol fade away before his very eyes.
Slowly it was mended again from old misunderstood rivalries turned friendships and acquaintances turned family.
Only for them to age and crumple into dust as he stands witness with Father time.
All save one with emerald gems for eyes.
“When was the last time you ate?” It comes out harsh as you rack your brain for the name of that villain, the one that is said to still hide out in the outskirts of a run down city in the states.
You knew Bakugou wasn’t that asshole who mutilated bodies after he fed. That much was apparent by his sheer will power to leave you be for the three months the two of you have been confined to these four walls.
But if it’s been months like you think surely he cannot live that long with out eating right?
The slightest dark circles hang beneath those scarlet red eyes, cheeks a little paler than normal and his fangs.
Canines elongated, swelling up his gums a bit indicating his hunger, his thirst.
When he does not speak it confirms your theory and it lines up perfectly with the timeline of that woman.
His last meal much too long ago.
“Come, eat.” You tap your throat with almost shaky fingers. Heart halfway breaking over the torture it must have been.
He snarls, unmoving ready to bolt for the door but worried he will give in to the ache in his teeth and throat.
Of gulping down every last drop your godly body had to fucking offer.
When he makes no move you grow impatient, allowing your quirk to shape shift your nails into claws.
“You fed me, I feed you. Now I’m telling you to eat.” Your voice is commanding as you scratch deep grooves into your forearm followed by beads of dazzling red.
His eyes dilate unnaturally before he swallows thickly.
Getting just a small taste of your blood from his fangs before he is pressing you into the couch, forcing your arms behind your head as he licks a swipe up the wounds. A shudder runs through you both before you feel the skin pull taunt and close fully.
Only for pain to settle in your wrists as one strong hand holds them there before his free hand tilts your head away. Exposing that damn neck you had to press him to. He bites into that blessed artery before pulling harshly at the skin, deeming your flow not fast enough.
You taste far better than you smell and he has to be careful with you for fear he won’t be able to stop. Especially so with each encouraging mewl that leaves those lips and reverberates in his mouth.
His grip turns tighter as you look over him, eyes savoring his sculpted body beneath his tight tee and that bulge that rests in his tight black joggers.
You knee it teasingly causing him to snap away from your neck.
“Careful.” A guttural growl, causing you to clench around nothing, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”
“Oh I always finish what I start.” You free your hands quickly, tugging at his joggers more than needing the treat that lies beneath. He catches your wrist, eyes darkening.
“This isn’t how I normally feed.”
“Then it’s time to try something new.” Silence stretches between the two of you, he tries so hard to resist. To tell himself he’s had enough at least for now but he finds himself gravitating towards you.
Being pulled back into the heat of your kiss as if the two of you were tragically magnetic.
You positive and him negative.
He rips your camisole from
your body exposing your breasts to him. Your skin is marred with more
dying bites than he’d like.
He smirks to himself as he thinks of you, this strong, brash being and it is hard for him to imagine you to be so submissive
To bend to the will of someone else.
He thinks he’d rather it just be for him.
You notice his smirk as he licks some blood from his lips, your stomach twists in anticipation. Not realizing how much you like those lips curved upward, even if it means he may devour you whole.
“What?” The smallest of blushes creeps along your skin as he leaves you exposed.
“Tch. You own yourself until you’re in the bedroom and that’s when you want to be marked.” He presses kisses along your breasts and collar bone, biting over the fading hickies, “By the looks of these you went out not too long ago. Naughty girl.”
He bites causing you to moan as he laps at the blood before removing his mouth. This time allowing all of the little bite wounds to stay open for a few minutes. Little bruises dance beneath the puncture holes. His eyes rake over your body, drinking in every detail as a slight shudder runs through you.
His thumb swipes over a small pink bite mark on your hip. He isn’t sure why he feels so jealous over the thought of you lying beneath another man.
Of you gazing up at them in anticipation as their hands sully your skin.
Of their mouth littering your perfect skin with their half assed love bites.
He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, you were a grown ass woman who wasn’t his.
Yet he was tempted to call you his own.
“These are pathetic.” He murmurs as you watch him lean forward to replace the bite with his own.
His breath is warm on the hip bone before he slides those damn teeth in, giving you another hit of that intoxicating drug.
“Then show me how it should be done. Mark me as yours.” He looks up at you, mouth still attached to your gorgeous skin. You fight the urge for your eyes to flutter as you stare him down. He removes himself, blood dripping from his lip.
You swallow fear and choke on desire as he rises above you, hovering over you as he corners you into the couch.
“You wouldn’t be able to handle a true marking.” His voice is dark, threatening as he leans in to nibble at your lip. Tips of his fangs indenting your plush bottom lip but never piercing the skin. You pull back a bit to better hold his gaze.
“I can handle it.” Your voice cuts hard but your eyes scream fuck me harder as you gaze up at him under long lashes.
“Are you sure you can handle it?” His hand slip between your thighs, that you happily spread, to find you soaking, his nimble fingers swirl over a needy clit as you fight from turning into putty in his hands.
You need to be in control for just a moment longer, for just long enough to convince him you won’t break so he could go all out.
“I know I can.” Your eyes flash serious before returning to that bedroom look causing him to sheath himself in a harsh thrust.
Your head rears back into the couch, biting back the moan hard enough you taste blood.
Only for Katsuki to lean in, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth. You watch his face contort before he shudders over top of you. You feel him twitch within you causing you to whimper, trying hard to get some sort of friction.
You never knew Bakugou Katsuki would like to play with his food.
“You’re such a naughty slut aren’t you, Princess?” He gives another harsh thrust, “Body begging to be fucked out.”
How the fuck did he know you loved dirty talk?
“Can, can you read minds?” You pant and he laughs darkly. It’s an oddly pleasant sound as it echoes back to you.
“No…” He leans in kissing you until you feel desperate for breath before he presses his forehead to yours, “When I feed I feel their strongest emotions temporarily. If I mark you, make you mine for all the world to fucking see I’ll feel your most intense emotions and vice versa. Always or until the bond is broken.”
He squeezes your ribs until they groan beneath his touch as he reads your expression.
Where you turned off, were you no longer wanting to be marked? You lean up to bite at his lower lip. Pulling as you ease back down.
“Then make me yours, Katsuki.”
“Maybe.” He kisses your throat, testing the waters with each thrust until he’s set a brutal pace.
Causing a coil to quickly tighten in your stomach.
He plunges into you, wholly, figuratively, lapping at your throat before nipping in your ear as you moan loudly.
“You’re taking my cock so well Princess.” He praises causing you to clench around his length. His own eyes threaten to roll in the back of his head and he wonders when the last time he has ever felt so in tune with some.
If he ever really has.
The couch hits into the half wall with sharp percussion as Bakugou pulls all but a scream from your lips, nails turning to claws ripping his shirt to threads before they scrape down his back.
He takes bites of you here and there as he thrusts into your throbbing cunt, hitting your clit with his pelvic bone as he bottoms out in you with each harsh snap of his hips.
“Fuuuuck. Katsuki.” Is all you can say over and over as he brings you to your first high of the night.
A sweat prickles over your sensitive skin as the coil in your stomach snaps convulsing beneath him as your legs lift from his back.
Eyes fluttering, head thrown back and throat exposed to him as your pussy attempts to milk him dry, coaxing him ever closer to his own climax.
Shuddering as he feels yours in his own blood.
Red eyes drinking in the sight of you, messy sex hair, cheeks and lips red from the rush of blood, body spasming due to his thrusts.
He takes a hand and swirls across your puffy bud, tongue licking at your perked nipple send you into an over stimulated series of body rocking orgasms paired with the high you feel that drips from his fangs with each bite.
You pant heavily, body going limp after your sixth Earth shattering release, vision blurring and all you can see is red.
You can barely hold into his biceps, one hand trying so hard to pull at the ash blonde that sits at the nape of his neck.
He enjoys the sight of you fucked out, border line having your tongue stuck out as if you were making an aehego face.
And all of it just for him.
“What’s wrong kitten? Can’t finish what you started?” He asks cruelly teasing you ever close to yet another high. You smirk up at him weakly, trying so hard to respond without sounded totally exhausted.
“I can.” You use the last of your energy to buck back into him a few more times before he presses his hands to your hips, leaning to growl in your ear.
“Save your energy Princess. I plan to make a round two. Can you last just a bit longer?” His voice softens near the end, fully sending you what you were fighting tooth and nail to avoid.
That ever dangerous subspace as you’ve fully opened your heart to someone whose true identity you just learned.
Hell, you guess that was better than doing it for someone whose name you didn’t even know as you’ve done before.
“Yes, Katsuki-sama.” You gasp out causing an unexpected chill to run along his spine. He looks down at you in your radiant glory and decides right then.
He decides that he cannot stand the thought of anyone else causing you to look like this. For anyone else to cause your walls to crumple as you expose yourselves wholly.
Or the idea of anyone being able to taste you.
And with his mark not only will other vampires avoid you but anyone who is sexually attracted to you will feel his gaze even if he is not there.
His thrusts turn sloppy as he chooses to give you what they call a mate’s mark.
This one will be even more intense than what he originally debating on doing.
He sinks his teeth into you, a groan echoes back to you competing with the sound of your drenched core being pounded into as blood fills his mouth.
He struggles to deposit the right amount of venom because if he puts too much you will be close to losing your free will.
Just as he pushes in the right amount you shatter beneath him, cunt becoming so tight he cannot stand it and he fills you to the brim with seed thrusts harsh to make sure you receive every last drop.
Your body vibrates and stills all at once as your eyes roll into the back of your head.
Voice going so high it becomes raw before you quiet beneath him.
He removes his teeth from your throat, lapping at the spilling blood hopeful that he has neither drank too much nor given you far too much venom.
He holds his breath with each passing heart beat fear seeps into his bones. Stilling him to his core, your eyes should be opening any second.
He repeats the mantra over and over fearing your pulse is getting weaker, eyes hardly fluttering.
He swallows, the bittersweet after taste of you settles on the back of his tongue, whispering what he always seems to forget.
That not everyone he’s marked has woken up.
Project Don’t Panic
day zero (introduction)
texting! au/fic. shouto todoroki x reader.
When Aizawa decides to make partners for your latest class project completely random, you’d hoped to get your best friend, Momo. Or, y’know. At least someone you knew. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently.
Because no, you didn’t get paired up with Momo.
You got paired up with Todoroki Shouto, who just so happens to be very handsome and smart and intimidating— and a complete stranger to you. For some reason, despite being in the same class, the two of you had never spoken more than a few words to each other.
All of this, in addition to your social anxiety and quirky (literally) classmates?
…was it possible to ask Aizawa for an extension?
- Reader’s quirk is empathy. She can sense, control, and transfer emotions through touch.
- Momo, Reader, Jirou, and Mina are the major friend group.
for the first time in years, I’m taking a crack at writing a multichapter fic! it’s only just starting out, but it’s been a labor of love and I hope you’ll stick around for the ride I have in store~
and, of course, shoutout to the incredible, talented, wonderful @unbreakable-red-riot for being my beta, this thing would still be in the drafts without you! 💖
After a dangerous quirk puts Bakugou out of commission, it’s up to Aizawa and Class 3-A to piece together what few clues they have to find the user.
When the investigation takes an unexpected turn and Bakugou’s health worsens, accepting he’s not invincible might just save his life.
hello lovelies! finally starting to post part 1 of my dabihawks fantasy au, hope y’all have as much fun reading as i did writing
tags: getting together, strangers to lovers, sexual tension, mutual pining, fantasy/magic au, dabi is a todoroki, quirkless au, eventual smut, lots of flirting, some internal conflict
Keigo didn’t exactly plan additional time for this, but he refuses to watch someone be burned at the stake…
Wherein Keigo, a spy for the king with imperative information to relay back to his superiors at the capital, unintentionally binds himself to a
very attractive witch. But he definitely doesn’t have time for distractions.