#izuku midoriya reader insert

[izukuwus]

Edible Arrangements: Twenty-Sixth Bite: Vampire Kitten

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A/N: YEAH BITCHES I LIED A BIT updates will be every other sunday if I can stay on a schedule because I like it more than Monday updates even if it would've been neater dates this month. Here's where shit gets high stakes (trying to update on a schedule but also I don't have three chapters banked in advance to update with lmao). Let's see if I can actually make it happen!

Chapter Summary: You and Izuku acclimate Sbeve to the house. The day of presenting finally arrives, and then you work on your OTHER group project.

Warnings: blood and biting and vampire things

Word Count: ~4300

"So, you're positive." Izuku's eyes dart to you, knuckles whitening rhythmically on the steering wheel as he takes in your little theory. Sbeve is silent in his crate. It's funny how much like a cat he isn't.

"Absolutely."

"What makes you think he's a vampire?"

"Teeth," you say, "and reflection. He fails the old mirror test outright. Besides that, he doesn't come for food, and he literally is infamous for biting his handlers. It’s not like he can survive on nothing. And then he sets off my bite marks.”

Izuku opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. "Fair point. But how are we going to feed him?"

"He can hunt. Or we can feed him the way I feed you."

He cringes. "Are you sure? The ankle isn't exactly the best place to be sacrificing for someone’s meals. It'd be uncomfortable, and I don't want you giving up all your blood to vampires."

"I think it'd be fine."

He's quiet for a bit. "Maybe not all the time. I'll work something out so we have something proper to feed him, too."

"Oh, so it's good enough for you, but I'm not good enough for Sbeve?" You cross your arms. "Rude."

"N-no! That's not what I meant! He's just… I'm worried about you being fed on by multiple vampires at once. What if it's making it harder for you to break out of the thrall, that you keep coming into contact with vampires?"

You shrug. "I don't think that's the case. I mean, it kinda feels like it's getting weaker, and you've been feeding on me for a while now."

"There's just too many possibilities. I mean, we already know so little about vampires as it is, and some of the information even seems to contradict itself. Repeated contact with vampires could be strengthening the thrall, but also, contact with unrelated vampires may be actually causing it to weaken… And then there's the attack, and how your mark reacted…"

"Hands on the wheel, Broccula," you say with a giggle, thumping his shoulder, "and eyes on the road. Let's make it home, and then you can think out loud all you want about this cat and the other thing."

He smiles, re-focusing his attention. "Sorry. Yeah, let's get home."

~

When you arrive home, you find little difficulty in introducing Sbeve to the house. The front door’s secure, the doors to the other rooms are closed for now, and you and Izuku crouch on either side of the crate.

Izuku does the honors, swinging the crate door open and waiting for Sbeve to come out to investigate. His first steps onto the carpet are slow and tentative, and before he gets very far, he turns around and blinks at both of you in turn.

Briefly, you wonder when the last time he bit someone was. He pads up to you, nosing at your blistered hand and giving you two tentative licks.

"Are you thirsty, baby?" you coo at him, turning your hand over to run a thumb over Sbeve's cheek. He purrs into it, continuing to sniff at your palm. "You don't really act much like a cat, do you?"

You offer him your other hand, the one not covered in bandages.

He sniffs that one, too…

And bites it.

His teeth pierce your skin easily, and you will yourself as best you can not to flinch. Izuku moves, but you shoot him a meaningful look at Sbeve drinks his fill. When he's done, he presses a rough tongue to your bleeding finger and purrs as he turns back around to explore the house.

"I told you," you say as Izuku finds the first aid kit to bandage up your finger, "vampire kitten."

"You're ridiculous," he says. Despite his words, a smile rests on his lips.

~

If you're being totally honest, the prospect of giving this presentation after everything that's happened is less than appealing to you. More so by the fact that you feel totally blindsided by the presentation date actually arriving—trauma and Halloween and kittens overwrite all your thought processes until something like a film class presentation feels so unbelievably stupid in comparison. Who gives a shit about presenting? Tenya could be dead right now, your arm looks like you've been paid to be the test dummy for a SFX makeup artist, and you’ve got a kitten at home who might miss you.

But the presentation day comes, and Hitoshi shows up on time with an easy, tired smile on his face, and asks how you've been doing like he doesn't know what your past few weeks have been like. You give him one of those non-committal non-answers that people give when their response isn't what anyone wants to hear, and he accepts it with that look you give people when you want them to know that you hear what they're really saying, and you leave it at that.

When your group's turn comes up, you take your place at the computer to run the slides, let Hitoshi run his racket, then switch seamlessly. You're not a fan of standing up in front of everyone, not on the first day Izuku has recommended you leave your arm unbandaged, but you swallow down the feeling and follow through on your bit of unraveling Yagi Toshinori's life. By the end of it, as you're both answering the begrudging questions offered up by students who don't really want to care but who are being graded on whether they ask questions, you've almost managed to detach yourself from who the man you're talking about was.

Almost, however, is never quite the same as good enough.

Though you receive ambiguous praise from your professor when the two of you take your seats, you have a bad, near-metallic, taste in your mouth between the thought of Izuku's dad and the pain and discomfort that comes with your arm being visible and in the state it's in. As the next group sets up, Hitoshi leans over to speak to you.

"How's your arm feel?"

"Stiff," you grumble back, "and thoroughly gawked at. Good job on your part, though."

He nods back. "You too." He shifts a little in his seat, fidgets with something on his bag. Eventually, you can't ignore the sense that perhaps there's words in his mouth, waiting to be said.

"Did you want to say something?" you whisper.

He shakes his head. In this classroom, where the lights are dimmed to let the projector shine, he gives off a faint glow.

~

Two hours of sitting in variably-lit classrooms and staring at people’s under-designed PowerPoint slides can’t be over soon enough. The sunlight afterwards is a welcome hug, even with the November cold wrapping around you. You cut across the quad at a leisurely pace, reveling in the feel of the cold air on your arm.

And then, across the quad, you spot Tenya, and the energy whipping up in you from finally being able to move around in the fresh air has you breaking into a run to catch up with him. You’ve barely seen him since he left Izuku’s care.

Your heart sinks a little once you're close enough to really see him. It's almost funny, in a sick sort of way, the way both of you sport matching burns winding around your arms. He's come to the same conclusion as you—long sleeves hurt worse than the looks you receive with the short ones. You’d compensated with a tank top and a zip hoodie, worn open and with only one sleeve actually on. Tenya seems to have opted instead for short sleeves. You imagine neither of you are fully comfortable, regardless.

"Tenya," you say between labored breaths as you finally catch up to him. "I didn't expect to see you here."

He looks you over, mouth slightly agape as his eyes roam over your own exposed burns. They've become quite the sight—in many ways, it looks worse than when it happened, colors all dark and pestilent on your skin, and it certainly draws some unwanted attention. From Tenya, though, despite the way his gaze makes your skin itch, you don't mind the looks. It's not like you're not looking over his arm in turn.

"How are you holding up?" he asks.

"Oh, you know." You throw your free arm behind your head, rubbing the back of your neck. Textures feel so weird beneath your fingertips now. "I'm keeping with the routine Izuku prescribed, but he insisted the bandages come off today, and I'm not liking the looks I'm getting."

He drags his eyes away, a frown on his face. "I apologize."

"Oh, no, you don't need to worry. I know you're not, like, gawking at me. You're about the only person I can stand looking at my arm at this point, actually. Well, you and the doctor, obviously."

If he realizes you mean Izuku, he seems to appreciate that you chose to obscure that fact as he slows his pace to walk alongside you.

"Are you healing alright? I know it hurts. The pain's been excruciating for me."

He nods. "Your landlord sent me home with a list and some medication to keep my own burns on track. The healing process has been exhausting, but I'm glad to be back in classes, at least."

You hum, nodding along. Your brows draw together as you form your next sentence. "You don't have classes right now, do you? I'm done for the day. I thought we could eat together, if you're okay with it. See how we're holding up, spend some time together again."

There's that smile. He seems so much younger whenever he smiles at you, the same way he always has, ever since…

Well, that's not important.

His text tone sounds from his hand, and he glances down at whatever notification. Your own phone isn't buzzing, so you can assume it's not the group chat. His eyes scan the screen, and another text tone chimes as they do. Tenya's face darkens, and he shoves his phone in his pocket roughly.

"Sorry, [name]," he says. "Something's come up."

"Oh." Your face falls. You cast your eyes to your hands, clasped in front of you as they are. "Hey, no worries." A faint glow envelops you as you speak, and not for the first time, you’re glad this quirk belongs to you and no one else.

A heavy arm pulls you close, a gentle, awkward hug that carefully avoids rubbing either of your burns in the process. When Tenya pulls back, he has a forced smile on his face. "I'll see whether I have time tomorrow, alright? I'll text you."

As he leaves you to head home by yourself, your only comfort is that he isn't glowing.

~

Mina has added Tenya to the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Unknown Number to NPS at 10:58AM

Unknown Number: Tenya, this is Izuku. I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but this is really important. Hitoshi ([name]'s friend from class that's also a vampire) and I have been working really hard, but we could use your help. Mina and Tsuyu are helping as well.

Unknown Number 2: This is Hitoshi. I'll make it quick. We know that [name]'s enthrallment involves you, somehow, and we want to lift it.

Tenya has left the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Tsuyu: well.

Tsuyu: that didn't work.

Tsuyu: let me try talking to him.

~

Tsuyu to Tenya at 11:14 AM

Tsuyu: hey.

Tenya is typing…

~

Tenya to Tsuyu at 11:32AM

Tenya: What do you need?

Tsuyu: I think you know already.

Tsuyu: why did you leave the group chat we added you to?

Tenya: I don't intend to get involved with any of that.

Tsuyu: why not?

Tsuyu: I don't want to force you, but…

Tsuyu: Izuku and Hitoshi seem to think you'd be a really big help to [name]

Tenya: It can't be done. I spent years trying.

Tsuyu: I know it hurts, but I think you should hear them out.

Tsuyu: maybe tell them what you tried that didn't work, if you don't want to be directly involved?

Tsuyu: I know you care about [name]. we all do.

Tsuyu: and I for one miss the version of my friend who acted like their full self

Tenya: Truthfully, I don't see a point to any of this.

Tenya: As I said, this isn't something that can be fixed.

Tsuyu: the least you can do is hear them out.

Tsuyu: we’d all like to try, even if you won’t.

Tenya: …

~

Tsuyu added Tenya to the group text '[name] protection squad'.

Tenya to [name] protection squad at 12:57 PM

Tenya: Let me make this clear.

Tenya: What you are trying to do can't be done.

Tenya: I have tried for years to get them back after the enthrallment.

Tenya: Even if you were to lift the enthrallment, the memories they've lost aren't likely to return after being gone for two years.

Izuku: I'd still like to try.

Mina: ^

Tsuyu: ^

Hitoshi: ^

Tenya: Maybe it isn't as painful for the rest of you, but if it's all the same, I don't want to be involved.

Tenya: I've tried reverse-enthralling them. I've reminded them of what they've forgotten. I died and returned and it didn't fix them. They were shot with holy water right on the mark and they don't remember a thing.

Tenya: The only thing I can think of would be to let me die fully, but there would be no point.

Tenya: They would remember me and our past, and I would be too dead to remember with them.

Hitoshi: I don't think their memories are gone entirely.

Hitoshi: the way they talk sometimes, it's clear they're remembering things that they then can't seem to hold onto.

Izuku: They’ll start talking, say something “off”, and then halfway through, they lose their sentence and refuse to entertain the thought of what they had been saying.

Izuku: The memories are there, they just can't look at them directly.

Tenya: …you'll get some information from me. A list detailing what I’ve tried, and the basics of what they've forgotten. That's all.

Tenya: I can't take part in trying to save them anymore. I don’t have the mental fortitude for that.

Hitoshi: alright

Hitoshi: we're listening.

~

Each meeting with Neito brings you a new companion to work with. Mina had been first, then began the revolving door: Tsuyu for the next meeting, Hitoshi for the one after that. Then, again, Mina. It’s really a torturous amount of work for two people to complete in such a short timeframe, necessitating digging through plenty of heavy texts that repeatedly have your eyes glazing over and dissecting winding, un-edited tangles no self-respecting writer would call a “paragraph”, all to glean the very beginning of an idea that you’ll inevitably find no use for when it comes to actually writing the paper.

Twice a week, you’ve scheduled to slog through the dullest readings you’ve ever laid eyes on in hopes of outlining the life and ideas of some long-dead Greek man who never even could have conceived of the world you now live in. And now, on the fourth session, you drop your forehead onto your laptop keyboard with a frustrated groan.

Hitoshi’s sat next to you, working on his own studying, occasionally glancing up from his work to make sure Neito hasn’t attempted murder in the past some minutes.

He pretends not to look disappointed when, once again, he proves that he hasn’t.

Neito looks up from his own laptop, blinking the glaze from his eyes. “Having fun yet?”

“I hate philosophy,” you grumble back. “Why should some guy who died before the world as we know it could ever have existed be the one we look to to decide what’s ‘moral’?”

“You say that word like it’s dirty.”

“What?”

“’Moral’. You act like it’s some made-up concept.”

“Everything’s made up, Junior Socrates. Especially concepts that rely on the ideas of men whose brains would implode the moment they were forced to contemplate a lightbulb.”

“And yet, it’s necessary to create an understanding of where the field is now.”

“And why do I need to know that? What purpose does studying these men serve?” You arch a dangerous eyebrow his way. He’s probably going to say some bullshit about how they were foundational to the study, as though foundations never need to be rebuilt or renewed, as though every foundation is a permanent part of existence—

“To get a passing grade and be taken seriously when you argue with people.”

Heavens above, he actually didn’t say the usual bullshit.

“Okay, fine, you get the faintest idea of respect from me.” You lift your head off your keyboard, position yourself for a healthy helping of CTRL + Z to undo the wise words of wisdom your forehead added to your notes document.

“Maybe if you’re getting this dead-headed over it, we should take a break.”

“And what do you propose?” you say, voice dry.

Hitoshi doesn’t look up from his own laptop. “Have you had any weird dreams lately that felt like memories?”

You open your mouth, close it, then open it again, a strangled laugh leaving your throat. “What?”

“There’s not really an easy way to work around the question. I’m asking about whether you think the attack jogged anything loose from your enthrallment.”

You shrug. “I don’t know. I can’t really think directly at that stuff. Why? Not like it’s—“ You catch yourself before the last word leaves you. Important. “It’s all stuff that just gets passed off as unimportant. Water off a duck, memories off my brain.”

“The edges, then,” Neito mumbles.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

You ignore the glow, dropping your head next to the laptop this time. “I’ll accept that break now.”

~

Neito to [name] protection squad at 11:47 AM

Neito: So, strategy: we need to tackle the edges of the enthrallment.

Neito: Think of it like a really, really well-adhered sticker.

Hitoshi: what’s the ‘edge’ of a memory wipe and replacement?

Neito: Depends on what all they lost, I’d guess. Is Tenya still preparing the document?

Tenya: It takes time. It’s not just a statement of facts for me.

Tenya: You’ll get it soon. Just… give me time.

Neito: We should still try the other methods, but I think it would be useful to figure out where their replaced memories are at their weakest and try to pry at those.

Izuku: In other words, try to get them to keep their mind on it for as long as we can?

Neito: More or less exactly. Which means we need to start probing them for information.

Neito: in the meantime, now that I’ve seen how they react to holy water, I do have several theories on things that could possibly lift the thrall.

Izuku: We can give it a shot, but it seems… risky. I mean, they start getting agitated about it pretty quickly once they get onto the topic of things within the scope of the thrall, and they’re not exactly in on this at this point, so perhaps it’s better for us to tread lightly when it comes to pressing on weak memories? And how would we go about figuring out which memories are weak? Even knowing what’s real and what’s fake doesn’t guarantee that we’ll be able to find the “edges” of their thrall to pick at. Unless…

Izuku: Maybe it has to do with how quickly they change the subject? Maybe the stronger the thrall is over a particular memory, the more likely it is that they immediately get frustrated and change the subject, rather than talk about it for a little bit first. And occasionally they do say things and then get confused about what they were saying. Maybe when they get onto a topic like that, we should press it?

Izuku: There’s just too much information we don’t have when it comes to enthrallment.

Mina: woah dude

Mina: that’s a lot of words, but I think I get it!

Tsuyu: so we just need to start paying attention to how quickly [name] decides they don’t want to talk about something?

Izuku: Yeah! Exactly!

Hitoshi: alright. then we should probably keep some kind of notes on what they respond to to make sure that we’re on the same page. it might be better if we take an organized approach

Neito: Except they’ll certainly notice if we all start talking about one particular thing they ALMOST remember separately of each other.

Izuku: Hmm. Would it be bad if they knew we were trying to lift it? I mean, it’s [name]. I’m pretty sure no one wants them to be their forgotten self more than they do.

Tsuyu: I don’t know if YOU really want [name] to be that person again honestly

Mina: yeah. I mean… the [name] that [name] forgot was…

Izuku: ?

Tsuyu: I’m not trying to put you off of it

Tsuyu: but I’m just saying, it might suck. They had a boyfriend, after all. And they were pretty close right up until the moment their memories were rewritten.

Mina: no problems between them or anything, and [name] would have told me

Izuku: right…

Izuku: We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, alright? That’s all questions that can be dealt with when [name] gets their memories back

Tsuyu: as long as you’re sure.

~

Izuku greets you when you come home. Every day, he does. But today, it’s just Sbeve, barreling down a staircase too large for his diminutive size and meowing the whole way down. You scoop him up, put a little kiss on top of his little head. He’s grown so affectionate in just about a week.

“Hey Sbeve. Where’s ‘Zuku?”

A tiny meow in response.

“Are you gonna stay this small forever?” you coo, cuddling the cat to your chest as you begin peeking in various rooms throughout the house. Where is Izuku?

Not in the kitchen. No response from the basement, which you’ve yet to have any interest in venturing into. You don’t see him in the backyard, or the library, or either bedroom. You frown as you wander back into the hall.

Sbeve meows again as you pass the secret room’s hall door.

“What’s that, Sbeve?”

Another meow. You glance at the door, see the sliver of light beneath, the way the door is cracked just slightly open. Just enough for Sbeve to have slipped out to greet you.

“Ohh. Thank you, baby!”

But then, you hesitate. As good of a cat as Sbeve is, patiently curled up in your arms while you carry him around two floors and baby him despite the fact that he could be anywhere from a few weeks to a hundred years old with no way of knowing, as much as you don’t want to waste his attentive meowing, that room is…

Sbeve looks up at you. You exhale, peek in. You’ll just see what kind of mood he’s in first, make sure it’s nothing you need to worry about. Maybe he’s just working, just likes the space.

Izuku sits inside, desk lamp casting him in a silhouette as he leans back in his computer chair, an arm over his face, lips moving almost silently as he mutters to himself. You can’t catch the words, though you’re sure they’re there, what little pauses between them betraying a frown. And then, you notice he’s glowing.

Lying to himself. Imagine that.

Curiosity burns within you. If you trusted yourself to be stealthy, if you didn't have the suspicion that the vampirism had improved his hearing, you'd try to sneak in, hear a little better. But for now, all you can do is watch and consider your approach. Like this, despite the knowledge that the halo around his form comes from the fact that whatever he's saying to himself is all lies, however small, you can't help but appreciate just how pretty he is. The lighting, too, accentuates him, casts shadows over his muscles and neck that have you swallowing harshly.

Nevertheless, you should say something.

“’Zuku?”

He lets out a squawk, arms flailing as the chair goes out from underneath him. He hits the ground hard, but you don't hear any crunching or anything indicating he's hurt himself, just a quiet 'oof' and a clatter as he and the chair both hit the floor. Another thing, a growl, tears from his throat in the moment before he realizes who's startled him so, and then he's looking up at you from across the room, mouth slightly agape, cheeks red. "[n-name]! Welcome home! I didn't hear you come in, I'm sorry!"

You shake your head, a little smirk finding your lips as you cross the room and offer your free hand to him. His hand in yours, and you pull him up, a curious tilt of the head aimed his way. "No worries. Is everything okay?"

This close, you can see the tears in the corners of his eyes. You don't think he's been crying, not as such, given the lack of tear tracks and the clarity of his voice, but he may have been about to. That, or his eyes started watering from the force of suddenly hitting the floor. "Y-yeah! I'm fine. The chair's okay, too. I think."

You laugh, shake your head again. "I'm not worried about the chair. You seemed pretty lost in thought, there. I was wondering if something was wrong."

He waves it off immediately. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"You're lying," you say automatically, then pull an awkward smile to soften the blow. "Sorry, I just mean… Well, you know. You can’t lie to me.”

Izuku pulls a weak smile, one that has your heart cracking just a little. “I’m not really up for talking about it. I’m sorry.”

That, at least, is truth enough. You take it for what it is.

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#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #vampire midoriya izuku #bnha reader insert #izuku midoriya reader insert #my fics

[mysicklove]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘

DAY 31: MASTURBATION

With: Izuku Midoriya

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: subish! Izuku, fem/afab reader, izuku masturbates to your voicemail and pretends to fuck you, reader calls him baby, and he calls u hun, needy izuku

A/N: masturbation fics are so fun to write for no reason. anyways, my last kinktober fic. crazy. it doesnt feel this way cause i wrote it halfway through lol.

Izuku was left alone for too long. On the verge of three weeks to be exact.

He wasn't left completely alone, of course. He was just overseas, on an important mission. He was separated from you, but that to his love-sick brain, meant he was left alone. His sleep schedule is all messed up from the times he stayed up late at night to wish you goodmorning, or the times where he woke up super early to catch you before you ate dinner. 

He missed you, an ungodly amount. When he comes home to his luxury hotel, and flops onto the bed, the only thing he can think about is you. What it would feel like to wraps his arms around you, and melt in your warmth. The way your fingers would run through his hair, and comfort him from all he did that day.

Of course he had those innocent, romantic thoughts most of the time, but somehow one way or another those fantasies began to change. The touches reach lower, your words begin to drip with honey, and your lips seem to be more passionate, desperate even. Until five out of the seven days, he daydreams about fucking you. 

He lays against the bed frame, shirtless, and dick pulled out of his boxers. The trip back to the hotel was long, and he's been thinking about doing this for the past hour now. He prepared everything ahead of time, because if he was doing something as pathetic as this, at least do it right.

The lights were dimmed, and his eyelids are drooping, exhausted from the day. He slowly reaches toward the nightstand and grabs a couple of tissues, setting them down next to him. Then with a sigh, he puts his phone up to his ear, and brings his hand to his cock. 

He gulps when he hears your voice, wishing desperately that you weren't asleep. Its got to be around 5 am by that time, and of course he wished he was patient enough to wait a couple hours for you to talk to him. But, he was desperate, and the voicemail you left him a couple hours earlier did the job.

“Hey baby,” Your voice broadcast, and immediately he seems to melt. His eyes fall shut and his hands begins to move up and down his half hard cock. He hums in reply, not caring if you cant hear him. “I miss you. Saw a kid walk by me with your merch on, made me smile,” You say, your voice slightly muffled from a task you must be doing. 

He huffs a laugh, head falling to the side. “Yeah?” He breathes, thumb rubbing at the tip, and then falling back down to his shaft in a repetitive motion. You continue on about your day, mentioning nothing too important, just how you went grocery shopping and a nice walk after work. “You shouldnt be working. Can take care of you,” Izuku mumbles, eyes peering open just slightly to watch his movements.

His cock was on full display now, the tip a pretty shade of pink, and beginning to leak. You always called it pretty. A strange thing to say about a penis, but he soaked up the praise, taking pride in his cock now. 

The thought made his mind wander. Would you praise him for what he was doing now? He wasnt supposed to touch himself without you, but its been three weeks, you have got to understand. Were you touching yourself thinking about him? The thought sends a thrilling shiver down his spine.

Your voice was now a background noise, just listening to the tone, the sound of it, but nothing of what you were saying. Maybe you were cooing at him. Telling him how good he is doing. Or maybe you were calling him a pervert for doing something so gross without you knowing. He lets out a shaky moan, mewling out and picking up the pace of his hand. 

“I miss you,” He warbles into the phone, on top of your speech. What were you talking about now? A dog you saw? Nothing important. Why weren't you touching yourself to his voice? He would die for an audio of that. Or even an audio of where you give him directions of how to do touch himself correctly.

No Izuku, slow down. Don't hurt yourself, baby. Your voice clouds his mind, and he nods, peering back to his cock and slowing his hand down. Thats it. Tighten your hand, and focus on the tip. He obeys, moving his hand up to the head, and making small pumps there. “S-Sensitive there,” He groans to the empty hotelroom, shaking his head from side to side when his heartbeat begins to pick up.

“Went into Victoria's Secret today,” You hum, and his eyes widen, attention snapping back to your voicemail. He quickly turns up the volume and pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Bought something you’ll love. Red is your favorite, yeah?”

Lewd images flash through his head of dark red lingerie sets and he nods. “Fuck. Please,” He moans, wishing he was there to pick it out with you. His dick twitches, and a glob of precum leaks out. Green eyes flicker to it, and he uses his thumb to swirl it around the head, flinger glazing over the slit. “Wanna see,” Izuku pants, growing hot.

You seem to have heard his reply and it makes him whine. “You don't get to see till you get home. A nice reward for doing so good all this time you are away,” You purr, making a short kissing noise into the mic and laughing.

His eyebrows furrow at the possibilities and his mind drifts off from your voice again. Suddenly he is there with you, his rough hands trailing up and down your body. The dark lingerie looks perfect against your skin tone, and his mouth waters at the sight. Well, look how needy you are Deku. Do you want to fuck me that bad?

He nods his head frantically, hand unconsciously picking up the pace. “Please. Please, beggin’ you,” he chants under his breath, his back slightly arching off the frame. He dully notices that the voicemail has ended, but doesnt pay attention to it, too immersed in the movie playing in his head.

His mind cuts the scene forward, growing too impatient and desperate as his orgasm begins to approach. You are under him, sending scratch marks down his back while moaning out. His thrusts are frantic, and he tries to pretend that his hand is you. Its not the same, but it will do. 

“Am I doing good?” He mumbles, dropping his phone onto the bed and resting the other hand on his thigh. You nod at him, kissing his cheek with redden cheeks, and lazy grin. A view he has seen so many times that he has a perfect mental image of it. 

So good, Izuku. You wanna cum inside?

He moans, louder than he should, considering the thin walls, but he doesnt care at the moment. He never gets to cum inside – this was something he was waiting to hear. “Fuck. Pleaseeee,” He whimpers, eyebrows furrowing and hand frantically moving up and down. His cock is lubed up with pre, and its easier for his hand to move now. 

He climbs closer and closer to his high and now hes hunched slightly over on himself. Suddenly, he hears his phone ringing, cutting him out of his perfect daydream. Just a couple of seconds, he just needs a couple seconds more of fucking you, and then he can take this call. He whines slightly, and peers over at it, not stopping his movements.

When he sees your name his eyes light up, and he grabs the phone and brings it to his ear immediately. His hands makes a lewd squelching noise, but he too fucked out to care if you hear.

A couple of seconds go by, and he breathes into the mic, waiting. And then he hears a groggy, “Hey baby,” and he cums on the spot. Groaning into the phone without a care as cum spills out on his hands and his whole body shakes. 

Another second goes by, as you wait silently on your side, confused on what was happening, but too sleepy to put two and two together. Izuku's chest rises and falls with every breath, and he stares at his cum covered hand, trying not to let out a sound of complaint when he realized he forgot to cum into the tissue.

He blinks a couple times, exhausted but glowing. “Hey hun. Was just thinkin’ bout you,” He hums, grinning at his sticky hand and closing his eyes when he hears your girlish giggle.

PREV POST | MASTERLIST | NEXT POST

#mello.writes #Barkforme! #Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #fem reader #fem! reader #x reader #reader insert #afab reader #afab! reader #female! reader #izuku smut #izuku midoryia smut #izuku midoriya x reader #sub izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #deku smut #deku x reader smut #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x reader smut #deku x reader

[attackurheart88]

Bakugo as your boyfriend Headcannons

• Bakugo follows you around without even realizing it. He walks you to the gym, your next class, home. There isn't a time he isn't right behind you. Bakugo wants to make sure you're safe and make sure you're not doing anything stupid.

• He’s a grumpy gentleman. Bakugo will hold your bag for you and complain about it being too heavy. He waits for you after class but threatens to leave you next time. If you kiss him in public he’ll grumble about you embarrassing him but never stop you. You ask to hold his hand he clicks his teeth but holds you tightly and frowns if you let go.

• He likes to spoil you. Bakugo often buys you gifts randomly whenever he thinks of you. He pays for your nails or hairstyles. Buys you your favorite food when you crave it and if he sees you staring at something boom you find it on your doorstep the next day. If you try to thank him he’ll act indifferent and say he just wants to make sure you don't ruin his image.

• He is your biggest defender. If anyone and I mean anyone was to insult you or hurt you in any way then regardless of their status, race, religion, or age he will beat them up. He is like your personal guard dog who barks and bares its teeth to any stranger who approaches. If you were to get bullied and didn't tell him Bakugo would be really angry and hurt when he finds out. In his eyes, you don't trust him enough to tell him. He would also feel disappointed that he didn't realize sooner.

• You are always an exception. Bakugo is quick to yell at everyone over anything no matter how small but with you this is never the case. You could step on his toes and all you get is a “watch where you're going.” but when Kamari made that mistake he was scolded so badly that he had nightmares for a week. When Bakugo is in a particularly foul mood, everyone tries to avoid him and not make it worse. You on the other hand just need to smile sweetly and give him a kiss on the cheek. Boom he's all better. You playing a prank, breaking his favorite mug, or even yelling and scolding him for his violent actions will have no repercussions. Those are the perks of being his partner.

#bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #kirishima eijirou #my hero academia #bnha bakugou #bakugo smut #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral insert

[deathc-re]

izuku “your pleasure is my pleasure” midoriya.

ik im right dont even argue 🤷🏾

#[moon speaks] #x reader #reader insert #x reader smut #mha smut #izuku midoriya #mha x reader #mha izuku #izuku midoryia smut #deku x reader #deku smut #mha headcanons #deku headcanons #gender neutral fanfic #x gender neutral reader #might turn this into something #my hero x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #izuku x reader

[tighnarly]

Fan Service: Peeping Tom!Deku/Fan! Reader

Description: Izuku is obsessed with you and pathetic. You're obsessed with Izuku and unashamed.

Warnings: Voyeurism, stalking, masturbation, marijuana use, overstimulation, reader with vagina

When Deku was in UA the thing he looked forward to the most was becoming a hero and saving people with a smile on his face. Now that those dreams have come to fruition and crime rates have steadily decreased from any past records ,the thing he looked forward to most was his nightly patrols. It’s not the boredom and lack of much work that made him savor these late night patrols, oh no. There was something much sweeter than that the night brought.

Each night his patrols ended on your street, come hell or high water, villain interruption or not, Deku made sure he never missed your late night show. God save any villain that was dumb enough to cross him regularly but even god couldn’t save anyone that got in the way of his time with you. All that would be left of them would be pulp. There was nothing and no one that was going to keep him from you.

So each night Izuku approached your house at 12 am on the dot. That gave him 15 mins to silently bury himself in the tree outside your kitchen widow. While all other windows in your house remained covered, the ones in your kitchen never are, he presumed it to be because of the little herb garden you had in the windows.

Deku was more grateful to those plants than his own quirk, because of those tiny little plants he got to witness you dance your way into the kitchen every night turning on the light above your stove in nothing but a tight t-shirt and cute little underwear that was almost always from his own merch line. You’d bounce around the room making yourself a late night meal and cleaning up immediately after as if on impulse before you would eat. How he longed to be in the room with you, wrapping his arms around you kissing your neck while you cooked and making you sit down and enjoy your food and taking care of the mess himself. He knows you work late at a restaurant not too far from your place so eating this late is the norm.

His favorite days were your days off when you got high before this part of your routine. When you’re under the influence you dance a little slower, a little more sensually, as if all your worries disappear. You spend more time in the kitchen on these nights too, often getting distracted and dazing off. He wondered what you’re thinking about as you stroke the marble counter absent mindlessly or when you close your eyes as you put your cheek against the counter after every couple bites of your food and then slowly lift it back up with a smile on your face. It was all so cute and dorky and while weed was never Izuku’s style, he liked that you seemed to enjoy it and he loved watching and seeing what you’d do next.

It was also his favorite time of the week because it seemed like getting high always ended up making you desperate, sometimes he could see you forget where you are and slowly start to play with yourself but even when he wasn't that lucky, you always end up in your room and even though he still couldn’t see you, those were the nights he could hear you. You turned into a shameless seductress making pretty moans and gasps that he could just barely hear them through your walls but just those tiny chirps of pleasure were enough to make him rock hard in his hero suit.

God was he completely lost on you. The notebooks he had on you are countless, filled with everything he needs to prepare for the day that you would be his. The only thing that he didn’t know about you yet is how he’d construct the perfect meet cute with you.

If your underwear is any indication, he knew you were at least a fan, but he needed something more. Needed something that connected you to him on a deeper level. Needed you to love him back immediately and just as strongly. Deku needed you to worship him the way he already worshiped you so that he could fully devote himself to you and to make sure that you’d be his and only his. He just needed that perfect moment. So until that moment, his happiness rested on those stolen moments watching and loving you from outside your window.

This particular night was Sunday, Izuku’s favorite night because it means it was your night off. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t rush his patrol a bit quicker. He made his way into the tree just in time to see you arriving to your apartment at the late hour carrying a tiny bag. He could tell that you were already high from the way you seemed to giggle as you walked languidly. Deku wondered what you were doing out so late when you didn't work and made a brief note to make sure you'd never be out this late without him escorting you once you'd be together.

You opened the bag on the kitchen counter and what you pulled out made Deku’s mouth dry up instantly and his dick stiffen in response.

Almost as if to tease him you pulled out a long, green dildo with a small bunny towards the hilt, perfect for pleasuring your clit. Immediately Deku regretted being a hero for just a second when the urge to break into your apartment overcame him. (The irony that being a hero didn't stop his peeping habits was not lost on him.) He was almost willing to throw away his notebooks and his meet cute plan just to chance a knock on your door with a poor excuse as to why the number one pro hero was at your door at the late hour.

You released your new toy quickly from its packaging, carelessly leaving the trash were it fell to the ground. You began a cute little happy dance and you strolled from the kitchen into your room. Izuku almost sobbed from frustration that you were going to your room where he couldn't see you instead of just pleasuring yourself in the kitchen for him to see. Those tears turned immediately into happy tears when, for the first time ever in the time that he had been watching you, you opened the curtains in you room.

For a second Deku swears you looked right at him, but your eyes shifted too quickly for him to believe it was real. After countless nights outside your place, Deku finally set his eyes on your room, his jaw dropped at the sight. If people thought his All Might Room was overboard, he had no idea what adjectives they could find to describe your shrine to him. Every inch of your room was Deku merch. It was like you had no shame. Posters were on every inch of the walls, you had every figurine, every official piece of merch and even copious amounts of unofficial merch were scattered everywhere. The piece de resistance, however, was a lewd body pillow with himself on it. Deku turned a shade of scarlet so dark that Red Riot would be jealous. You slept with him. Even if it wasn't really him, he still graced your bed. Deku also took delight in the fact that the pillow provided proof that you were attracted to him, his cock burned even brighter and precum gathered on top at the thought. It made it even harder to not break in.

Deku then got so lost in his thoughts of fucking you silly while shoving your face down into said pillow that he didn't notice you take off your clothes or slipping your new toy into a harness and putting that harness on your pillow in the appropriate place, setting yourself a scene straight out of a fantasy. He snapped himself out of it just in time to see you straddle your make shift hero. Deku got the perfect view of your naked back and ample ass as you slowly descended down on the green dildo attached to his image.

Izuku came messily in his hero suit instantly.

He would've been embarrassed if you saw or if not for that fact that the sight was like watching the dirtiest porn know to man.

Deku recovered almost as instantly when you started bouncing yourself up and down. He then moved one of his scarred hands down to palm himself in sync with your bounces. Your muffled moans then made their way to his ears making him grip his cock painfully to stop himself from coming prematurely again. Deku watched as the green representation of his dick entered you over and over again, imagining your slick flower was encasing the real him. He was imagining his previous ejaculation was your wetness soaking him through his clothes, imagined how tight your beautiful pussy was, wanting to grind his dick in you so thoroughly that it could never conform to another dick again, never be satisfied by another again, let alone the cheap dildo that was in your pussy. Simultaneously, you both picked up your pace. Anyone passing by would see the tree Izuku was perched in had began to sway as he eagerly fucked his own hand.

Just as he felt the familiar spring begin to coil, you stopped and Deku felt tears of frustration slip down his cheeks. His tears were about to start a small flood when you turned to give him an even more, mouth watering view. Deku could have written poetry about your beautiful breasts. They were the perfect size for his hands to worship, he could spend hours with your gorgeous nipples in between his lips, could almost feel them against his tongue as he imagined biting and kitten licking them. As if they couldn't be more perfect, you began to ride the pseudo him again and your magnificent breast began to bounce and heave. Deku let out on vocal sob as his dick twitched and came all over his ill prepared hand. He would have to learn how to control himself when he finally got a chance to ravish you.

You on the other hand, seemed to have plenty of stamina as you continued to ride pillow him into oblivion. Deku's cock was painfully hard again and pathetic tears gathered in his eyes as he put his hand to his raw member once again, not one to miss any opportunity to come to you. Your hands made their way up your body slowly, teasing yourself with featherlight touches Deku wished were his own. His cock burned in a twisted pleasure-pain as he rubbed vigorously at the sight of you firmly massaging your breasts. Tweaking your puckered nipples, you furiously began to thrust yourself faster and faster onto your toy, back arching in a deep bend. Your hips stuttered sharply down as your body lurched forward in completion with a scream and Deku came painfully for a third time, gagging on his sobs, trying to stay quiet.

As Deku came down from his final orgasm, he didn't notice you coming to the window, too busy biting his own fist to stop any noise escaping him, trying to monitor his ragged breathing. Deku didn't even notice the sound of the window opening.

"You know," you said to the night air, "I always knew you'd have a pretty cock Mr. Number One Pro Hero."

The sound of your voice startled Deku so much that if not for the reflexes he trained so hard to achieve, he would have fallen head first out of the tree.

"I....hehheh....I don't. I mean I," Izuku tried to stutter out an excuse to think of some way to explain himself but ended up falling short.

"Well why don't you come in here and give me a better look at that pretty cock of yours, maybe put it to use and I won't tell anyone you've been watching me for months."

You laughed as he launched himself into your room at your invitation, happy your little show, your perfect trap, worked on your favorite hero.

#deku x reader #deku #mha deku #deku x y/n #deku x you #mha fanfiction #mha smut #mha x reader #smut #deku smut #izuku midoriya #bnha midoriya #deku midoriya #my hero academia #fanfics #fanfiction #text post #reader insert

[pinkykats-place]

Male Reader x bnha male character(s)

Tumblr Recommendations

Disclaimers!

The stories linked are NOT mine.

Most contain mature content.

Gif not mine.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

Abnormal

character(s): Class 1-A and bits w/ Aizawa Shouta [platonic]

Summary: basically class 1-A w/ a rescued mutant quirk user, claimed to be used as an “nomu” experiment from authorities but is generally under UA’s hand for now due to the help of Aizawa’s quirk to prevent... accidents

Ghostly Prince

Reader x Bakugou, Midoriya, Sero

Summary: Bakugo, midoriya, and sero with a tall tattooed boyfriend with a powerful medium quirk who talks to ghost kinda like paranorman and can summon them to fight people

Dirty Thoughts for a Clean Man

Overhaul x male reader

NSFW fic

Dabi x male!Reader

Summary: Reader helps Dabi dye his hair and feelings are revealed.

Warning: smut is mentioned but not explicitly written

not scary at all (nsfw)

ojiro x virgin!male!reader

warnings: virgin reader, crying, slight mention of a breeding kink kinda

dumbed down (NSFW)

m!reader x denki kaminari

smut!

tw: dumbification, toys, daddy k

SATURDAY NIGHT (nsfw)

[ I. Midoriya x Male!Reader ]

Summary: aged up au with smut

❝ 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙚 ❞

𝙄𝙯𝙪𝙠𝙪 𝙭 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞’𝙨 𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

Teaser ➤ Izuku realizes he must act to get what he wants.

been fantasizin! (nsfw)

izuku midoriya x male reader

WARNINGS: heat cycles, bunny quirk, ear-pulling, creampie (x2), toy use, overstimulation, manhandling, dacryphilia, soft dom!izuku, praise, kissing, drool/spit, body worship, dirty talk, breeding mention, use of the word “pussy” as a synonym for (ass)hole, amab reader

do it again (nsfw)

aizawa shouta x himbo!male reader

cw: mentions of creampie(s), large chest (pecs), teasing, anal, headlocks, fingerhooking, drool/spit, dumbification, veryyy minor dirty talk

Hawks x top male reader

Smut fic

SOFTSPOT (nsfw)

aizawa shouta x male reader

WARNING: amab reader, praise, degradation, spitting, dirty talk, crybaby!reader, himbo!reader, fingering, anal, nipple play, chest mentions, use of the words ‘tits’ in a mocking manner, dumbification, mutual masterbation, sadism, humiliation, creampie

Hitoshi Shinso x Male! Reader

Smut Drabble Fic

#reader insert recommendation #male reader insert #bnha x male reader #mha x male reader #bnha x masc reader #Aizawa Shouta x male reader #izuku midoriya x male reader #dabi x male reader #Aizawa x Himbo reader #amab reader #bnha x amab!reader #deku x bunny reader #Denki Kaminari x male reader #kaminari x male reader #deku x male reader #ojiro x male reader #sero x male reader #shy tall male reader #overhaul x male reader #fic recs

[mitsua]

                                                                  

                                                                  

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Series: 𝐁𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐍𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚

Y/n's: . . . GN!

Words count: 494

                                                                  

We're both sleeping on the couch

It's been a tough day at Izuku's work as the #1 hero of Japan, just as each day was. With a slight difference that almost costs your relationship.

It was as if every bad thought he might have had for the past years just became truth in one day.

So to say he was far beyond exhausted was an understatement. He kindly let you know he'd be coming home later than usual (said usual normally being 12a.m.), so you could sleep without worrying.

How could you not worry about him if his voice over phone sounded so rough, raspy and tired with everything he might be living in those offices right now?

This made you remember every time Midoriya got his way out of reunions or late nights to be with you for at least some hours when you called him and expressed your fatigue.

You would not leave him at his own now. Not ever.

So you quickly glanced at the clock as you said your goodbyes and ended the call. 9:48 p.m.

Yeah you could do something about it.

You arrived at his agency half an hour later, with a bigger than usual bag and a blanket perfectly folded under your free arm which helped you open the gigantic glass doors which welcomed any citizen that might be in trouble along the best heroes of the country.

This entrance always gave you chills as you recalled when Izuku spent days and days deciding how to decorate his agency in a way it felt comfortable with everyone, yet it got some of his unique traits like some walls were green-coloured.

You had to take the elevator once the secretary recognized you as his boss's partner.

Finally, opening the last door was a relief for you, but a surprise for your freckled-fiancé. His face changing from confusion to happiness to confusion again since he told you not to worry about him.

"Wha-Why?" he asked, his finger pointing at the things you were carrying, his other hand still with yesterday's and today's patrol reports he had to review.

"Let me tell you a little story about a boy who used to listen to a certain person whining about their day when they were younger, I really admire that boy 'cause he did everything he could no matter what the time or weather was, he'd go with them and accompany them by himself". You said smiling all the way to the wood table his grand officine had, starting to pull out some plastic cutlery and tuppers with fresh food, then, extending the blanket at the couch infront of it all.

Izuku had left all his work by now to stare at your gentle gestures, the care that you held while putting perfectly everything in place for a little time off for yourselves. He had never felt fuller than now, finding comfort in your acts, he let himself drown in this love of yours.

                                                                  

                                                                  

Written by: Mitsua (Credit to their respective owners of the pictures and tagged series' character)

                                                                  

#mitsua #mitsuawrites #mitsuawritings #anime #bnha #mha #headcanons #x reader #fluff #hcs #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #bnha izuku #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #deku imagine #mha deku #bnha deku #deku #reverse comfort #comfort #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #boku no hero #boku no academia #boku no hero academia #gn reader #fluff x reader #reader insert

[platrom]

One Last Chance.

Midoriya x F! Reader, Bakugou x F! Reader (partially/eventually)

WORD COUNT: 20.7k words

NOTE: Here is the ending to OLT. What do you all think? Please leave me some comments!!

If you guys would like to see side stories to this or have some questions, please send some asks! My inbox is always open. And if you have any other story ideas, please request as well.

TW: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, flashback scenes, hospital setting, mentions of prior and current injuries, death, talk about perceptions of death, mentions of suicide attempt/suicide, fluff, therapy, Bakugou has undergone therapy, childhood best friends, toxic friendships, unrequited love, happy ending, the voice leaves, a new voice appears (is personified), reader has a panic attack in a fancy restaurant, reader and Shoto are friends, Bakugou has genuine friends, the reader is loved, kind of ambiguous parts in the ending (must read first part to understand it), reader confronts Midoriya, reader kisses Bakugou

THIS STORY MUST BE READ WITH THE FIRST PART— IT IS NOT A STAND ALONE.

PART 1 / PART 2 (HERE)/IMPORTANT ASK

BAKUGOU OBSERVED your shaken figure as it faded into the distance, head hung low and fists clenched in agony. When you first pulled away from him and continued onward, your feet tapped lightly against every slab of concrete you trekked on, until after a few yards your brisk walk bursted into a hurried sprint. Nobody nor anything was spared a second glance as you fled from his presence.

Candidly, he couldn’t blame you. Bakugou had overstepped your boundaries and attempted to plow through the brick walls you had built around yourself for the sake of your welfare. He understood how you felt and how overwhelming such an invasion of privacy was, notably with his straightforward approach. Bakugou was notorious for diving headfirst into situations, but that didn’t mean it was invariably appropriate.

For instance, now.

Howbeit, he didn’t know what else to do. Bakugou may have gone through years of therapy and anger management courses (thanks to that spiky-haired idiot), but that didn’t mean he knew how to confront everyone about their personal endeavors.

Tackling his own issues differed from helping others address theirs. He had friends, family, and a therapist to talk him through his problems and conjure solutions with. Even his fellow colleagues wouldn’t mind lending a comforting shoulder for Bakugou to lean on; the people around him had read countless books on how to support loved ones who were struggling.

Bakugou had a support system that took years to discover, expand, and wholeheartedly trust. With thousands of hours of therapy under his belt, he was blessed with tools to aid him in the gloomiest and sunniest of days, with or without his therapist by his side.

In comparison, you were not armed with the same lessons and techniques as he was.

Not yet, at least.

Bakugou wanted to change that.

For all of his years of friendship with you, he analyzed your growth and development as a person: how you went from an adorable and frivolous child who was insouciant to the prying eyes of others into a beauteous, percipient young lady who shied away from any unforgiving glares. He remembered how decades ago you, him, and Deku would tussle around in your childhood playground’s decrepit sandbox playing Heroes.

Bakugou had invented the game when you and Deku had been laying against one of the thick blue poles that held up a patent yellow slide incised by impetuous teenagers that lurked around the park at the perturbing time of midnight. To his dismay, despite being in front of you both, none of you batted an eyelash at him. He wasn’t even aware of what you two were discussing, but all he cognized was that the ongoing chatter between you and the freckled nerd was irritating him and he wanted your attention instanter.

Looking back, Bakugou could admit that it was an impulsive suggestion and injudicious decision. In contrast to what any other sensible child or person would have done, as soon as the words ‘Let’s play heroes, Deku and (Name)!’ escaped Bakugou’s lips, the green-haired idiot accepted the request instantly, so eager to please Katsuki. On the other hand, you simply watched in silence as Bakugou beamed in pride with his hands on his hips and Deku enthusiastically pumped his arms in the air, jumping and squealing in both anticipation and delight.

Years after, Bakugou eventually understood why you sat quietly that day and made no move to even consider rejecting the idea. Exactly like Midoriya, you shadowed Bakugou’s footsteps and obliged to his every whim. Yet, unlike Deku, you didn’t quite concur with his exclamations even inside your head and heart. Cleverly, you chose to keep your mouth shut and follow in step because it caused you less trouble than if you voiced your opinion.

That didn’t exactly mean you always emulated that similar action and thought process. There were at times you spoke against Bakugou when you knew you would be reprimanded the least or experience little to no consequences.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he didn’t enjoy those quirks of yours: your fight, your spunk— your tactical and logical thinking. They all were your qualities that Bakugou internally commended you for.

As children, whenever you three played Heroes, Bakugou forced you to take the role of the damsel in distress. Due to your bestowed position as a distressed maiden, the ash blond referred to you as “Princess” often, both during and outside the game. With every fictional mission the two boys conjured, they intended to save you from villains (which happened to be figurines of heroes with a small piece of dark cloth draped over it).

When Bakugou wanted to impress you (and spite the green-haired bastard), after he and the nerd rescued you, he would hoist you off your feet and carry you bridal style, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. Boastfully and vaingloriously, he would exclaim to the other boy with a smug grin, “This is how a real princess should be treated, Deku!”

The young boy would stare in awe, analyzing how Bakugou kept a firm grip on you and refused to let you take a step on your own, despite your occasional protests.

And the times when a small giggle would be heard near Katsuki’s chest, widened vermillion eyes would snap to your face and watch as you grinned up at him, eyes sparkling, glowing, and filled with adoration. Your ridiculously sweet and unfaltering smile never failed to make his chest puff out in pride, cheeks warm in fluster, and heart pound faster.

Katsuki craved to see that expression on your face again.

He yearned to be the one who flipped your entire world upside down and set you anew. Like a festering disease, that ardent desire plagued his heart. It urged Bakugou to be the hero in your life and pillar of strength- the one you were able to lean on for stability when your walls of welfare began to crumble and crash.

When you were merely arm’s reach away, at times in that freckled-dork’s arms, an unremitting voice rung remorselessly in his ears, imploring for him to pull you into his chest and conceal you from the world, to cradle your supple face between his callused palms and tenderly stroke your cheek in hopes his actions could describe an ounce of his perennial love for you. The vexatious voice begged Bakugou to press his lips against yours to convey all the unspoken emotions he could not fathom formulating into lucid and complete sentences.

Katsuki wanted all of the pieces of you: brain, body, and soul.

In bed, during the hours of dusk until dawn, Bakugou’s mind conjured vivid imaginations of a domestic life with you. In many of the scenarios, Katsuki would already be at home in the spacious kitchen, preparing dinner for you both before you returned after a strenuous day at work. Whatever meal he was cooking didn’t matter; you would love his cooking anyway.

He would be so absorbed with cooking that he wouldn’t hear the sound of the door lock clicking open, or the rustling of your clothes as you stripped off your coat. Your lethargic steps would fall on deaf ears as you snuck behind Katsuki, the corner of your lips curling in satisfaction and glee at the aromatic fragrance wafting throughout the house and at the sight of him cooking, no less in the apron you had gifted him for Christmas at the start of his hero career. The apron was black and had the words “THE BOMB” splayed across his chest in thick, white cursive.

Without hesitation, you would pounce onto Bakugou and smush your face into his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. He would quietly hum as you sighed and relaxed into his cozy warmth, mumbling a word of greeting.

After, small bits of chatter would be exchanged between you two until your voices died down and a comforting silence would permeate your shared home.

Eventually, when Bakugou would feel your eyelashes flutter shut as you fruitlessly essayed to stay awake and on your toes, he would lightly smack the top of your head with a wooden spoon and chide you to get your oil-stained arms off his apron and shower before he finished dinner.

The dopey grin that would spread across your adorable face would leave butterflies flittering in his stomach and blood rushing to the tips of his ears. When you noticed his bashful expression, you would raise your calves and wrap your arms around Bakugou’s neck to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, before escaping his clutches as he processed your actions.

Irritatingly, he would wave a wooden spoon in the air menacingly at your retreating figure, screaming, “You shitty woman, if you’re going to kiss me, do it properly!”

Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man; he knew that just as well as anybody else. All of his life, he took everything he could and prospered with whatever resources he had. Everything he did was done in his favor, to his advantage. The cost of his actions and behavior was never significant to him. Even presently, as a hero, he didn‘t bat an eye to his brash language on television or crass attitude. He never spared a second thought about what he did or was going to do.

Until now, when your life, your fate, was placed directly into the palm of his destructive, blood-shedding hands.

If he pursued the direction of which you ran and found you, what would happen to the two of you? To him? To you?

What were the rewards and the risks? Would possibly risking your life be worth it? If push came to shove and you threatened your life, could he save you?

His quirk wasn’t built for the typical rescue training; Bakugou was trained to ward off villains and allow the official rescue heroes do their work. He could handle the battle— the blood, the deafening blasts and shards of glass and slabs of concrete that would fly at him, the blazing ache in his muscles, the adrenaline from fighting and the reality of his eventual, impeding death.

Yet, he wasn’t created to dive into the murky and freezing cold water of the ocean and pull civilians from the bottom. Bakugou Katsuki, Dynamight, wasn’t the one who was meant to lift fissured buildings off of civilians to allow them to escape.

Of course, Bakugou could blow things up. Though, was it really the smartest for him to possibly detonate an already ticking time bomb?

Perhaps, he wasn’t the man for this rescue. But there was somebody else who he knew was.

Bakugou whipped out his phone, scrolling past hundreds of unobtrusive contacts, most lacking a personalized profile picture. Swipe after swipe, blurs of gray passed his vision before his eyes caught the name of a man he would never willingly speak to, not even for work.

You were an exception.

Always and forever.

Tapping the telephone icon with hasty fingers, Katsuki lifted the device up to his ear and began to trace your footsteps.

In his wildest dreams, never did he picture himself dialing one of his biggest rivals over a girl he loved for decades— over a girl they loved for decades— since as long as he could remember.

A confused voice answered on the other end. “Kacchan?”

“Deku,” Bakugou sighed, teeth gritting and fists clenched.

Hopefully, the world would reward him for not being selfish this once.

“I need your damn help.”

For the first time.

Contrary to popular belief, there were countless disparate ideas and thoughts of what death was like. For numerous individuals, it was foreseen as a riveting and transfixing experience. On the other hand, many voiced death to be an ongoing horror that terrorized them in the back of their minds. The twisted thoughts would trickle past the cracks of the mind, seeping into the limelight of their thoughts.

Certainly, there were opinions that fell between the lines and even strayed far from the common and classic perceptions of such an inevitable fate all would face.

Though, you had a rather specific conclusion about death.

Your declaration was that it was quite dull; banal even, considering everything to your vision (more so lack of it) was pitch black, akin to as if you had your eyelids shut— just permanently.

To be fair, you were dead. What did you expect? No one wanted to see the eyes of a rotting corpse, so it made sense that they would shut them.

You prayed your body was being prepared for your funeral. If they even found it, deep down below the surface of the ocean’s beguiling, glossy droplets of liquid transparency that lured innocent strangers to explore what was another’s liquid death.

Your death would also explain why you were frozen like a corpse. Your mouth remained clamp shut, your limbs stayed in place no matter how much you fruitlessly shrieked at your brain to move the lifeless limbs, and every inch of your body felt stone cold despite that if you were alive, warm blood would be flowing through your veins to keep you functioning.

However, there was one minor issue that made you question your predicament and if you were truly dead— you could still hear. What you were able to hear in the oblivion of black that surrounded you was debatable, but it vaguely reminded you of muffled chatter, similar to if cotton stuffed your ears.

Perhaps, if you focused enough you could distinguish the words, possibly even the syllables in hopes of discovering whether or not you had truly met death face-to-face.

All you had to do was listen- stay silent. Just like a dead person. You were dead. You could do just that with ease.

So, you let your conscious fade into the abyss of surrounding black, let the hold you had on the remnants of your soul slide lower and lower, the tight grip of your finger slipping so only the tips of them could reach the sole part of you that held you inside your body— your prison. You let the comfort of your humanity rest and the blaring silence of death deafen your ears.

Unexpectedly, the small, high-pitched voice of a child is what you hear first whose words die at the end of their sentence.

“If you need help, you can just ask for it.”

You want to ask who they are and what they’re talking about, and you try— you pull your dangling humanity closer and repeat the questions like a mantra until you’re screaming them, but they never exit your throat.

When your soul slips from your fingers again, the child remains quiet. Light footsteps begin to echo in the abyss of darkness, faintly reminding you of the days you used to spend in your room listening to rain splattering against your window, the atoms of hydrogen and oxygen splitting as they made contact with the clear surface.

This all seems like a sick, cruel joke from the universe.

Was this the voice messing with you?

Was the voice that haunted you still here with you, even in the after life?

But it didn’t sound the same.

That ominous voice in your head was your own voice. It had the exact same pitch, the same quirky pronunciations you had, even down to the accent. Possibly at first, it had been the voice of others and the words that were spat at you were theirs.

To begin, they were theirs; their crude thoughts, their deleterious words, their abhorrent statements and opinions.

Not yours, not at all.

Those noxious words laced with the deadliest of poisonous toxins gradually infiltrated your mind, the traces of their presence faint. As time passed, the once small stains became vast and covered the expanse of your once kind thoughts, turning each present one bitterer from the last. Once upon a time, the voice in your head was the voice of others.

Until it became yours.

In contrast, the speaker in the pit of eternal darkness had a voice of a naive young girl whose heart was just as pure and innocent as it was when the day she was born. It was filled with glee and utmost care, one that most lost to their greed for coin and success. Genuine people— those who constantly gave back and assisted others out of the goodness of their heart had long gone extinct, or were an endangered species. Those who got ahold of these rare beings either sunk their canines into their flesh for a finishing blow or kept them safe under their thumb, a primordial part of them vocalizing their need to keep someone so precious in the safety of their arms.

The girl moved closer to you.

“The attempt to escape pain is what creates more pain. At least, that’s what my parents tell me.”

That voice . . . It was once yours. The little girl who was speaking to you was you, or the shell of who you once were.

Although the memories of your childhood had lost their precision of detail overtime and existence as the years trudged by, you had always considered them the apex of the years you spent alive. The naivety of being a child and the blanket of being sheltered protected you from the corruption of the real world was a sensation you missed dearly.

“Instead of trying to avoid your troubles and problems, they say to resolve them so nobody gets hurt anymore!”

Your recollection of this particular encounter as a child was not the most prominent, as the once vivid and animated details of that day slowly evanesced from your brain with time.

The interaction had occurred nearly two decades ago in the commonly favored season of saccharine spring in Japan, when the sun’s rays gently kissed your skin and the soft gusts of wind weaved through your hair and brushed it back. You were there solely because the mothers in the city of Musutafu always met up during the spring to gossip about their husbands and children and revel in the scenery of blossoming Sakura flowers that swayed gingerly in the wind from their delicate stems that connected to the branches.

It hadn’t been the first time your mother had dragged you to an event like this with the enticing promise that you would be able to make new friends; that had been the deal-breaker for you. Hence, it had led you to the park funded by the richest of the local heroes and civilians.

The place could only be described in one word: perfect. Gossip from the mothers of the town declared it was kept in pristine condition by countless gardeners who would sweat over every blade of grass they sliced. The shrubbery was luscious, vibrant, and full of life. One would say it was just as youthful as the children that roamed every acre of the greenery.

The mothers had stationed themself near the entrance of the park, where the benches that were bolted into the ground to set down the dishes, snacks, and desserts they brought for everyone to snack on. Further in was the actual playground, which contained the children of the many attending mothers.

After kindly asking your mother for permission to go to the playground by yourself, you waltzed your way over.

That was where the interaction began.

You weren’t sure how you even noticed this peculiar person— nothing about them stood out. Not their hair, not their eyes, not their face.

Absolutely nothing differentiated from the rest.

That much you remembered.

Maybe it was a stroke of luck that brought you to them, that fate decided to pull your strings together and wrap a knot around you both for a moment.

They had been sobbing uncontrollably, their arms hugging their knees and small hiccups of desperate gulps of fresh air had reached your unsuspecting ears.

It was odd how out of all the children there, you were the only one who could hear their muffled cries of pain.

The background, your surroundings, the calls of the other children to return to their side as they watched you step towards the outcast was all a haze to you. You couldn’t recognize or process anything other than the child that sat alone in tears.

It was a complete blur from there.

“Forever doesn’t exist, that’s why you should apologize before it’s too late!”

Why am I remembering this now?

Tears fell that day.

When have they not?

Unspoken words lingered in the air, thick and heavy on your tongue.

How many days have been like that? How many days have I lived like them?

Your mind answers for itself.

In the past, you had labeled them minor inconveniences. They didn’t matter to you.

They were minor inconveniences, you tried to convince yourself like so many times before.

Were the tears you shed over so many lost ones just minor?

Would you just toss them away?

Would you belittle the memories of one of your former closest elementary friends, years of friendship washed away in the downpour due to a nasty little rumor spread about you? Erase the little drawings and cards they made for you, each one describing how you would be by each other’s side forever?

Would you forget about the best friend that got away, the one that was forced to move away at the end of your primary years? The walk around the field, the stories you both wrote together, the secrets you entrusted with one another— were you going to toss that all away?

Would you forget about the one who you worked vigorously to build a friendship with when everyone was forced to split ways in junior high? Did you really think so little of the late night conversations, the occasional but rather spontaneous (and sometimes one-sided) heart-to-hearts, the long hours spent chatting away, learning about a love that stemmed deeper than the plants whose roots dipped beneath the soil under your feet? What about when they had chosen to push you out of their lives— manipulating you to keep you attached?

Would you be willing to forget when the empire you had fought endlessly to build and protect collapsed on you after quakes so powerful the once granite walls fissured and crumbled right above your head when you were at your weakest?

Would the scars that remained from the knives that were stabbed into your back, your chest, your heart, finally heal? Would the nasty and discolored marks fade from your skin like water slipping down a drain?

Would you forget about your family? The ones who raised you, who were by your side, near your side, even when it felt like they were miles away?

Would you forget about those who loved you unconditionally— for every one of your flaws, mistakes, and imperfections? The loyal ones who stood close enough to catch you if you fell, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you took them for granted.

What about Izuku and Katsuki? The ones that at one point in your life or another, meant the world to you?

Could you erase the memory of Katsuki’s passionate carmine eyes, irises the colors of the ripest of strawberries in the patch, filled with unspoken emotions that only the most observant and attentive of people could detect? The number of fingers on your hands could not come close to totaling the indefinite amount of days you spent staring into his eyes, (e/c) piercing through the thin panes of glass behind his eyes that sheltered his heart and soul, learning lessons that words could not formulate, that he would never dare let leave his mouth.

Would those minuscule yet intimate moments with the blond escape you at last?

Ironically, your calmest and most content moments resided with the boy from your childhood who always claimed one day he would be the greatest hero in the world. These tranquil times didn’t stem from your days as kids in primary school or pre-teens in middle school, but rather when you both were studying at UA.

Unbeknownst to Midoriya and nearly the entirety of Class A, Bakugou would constantly sneak you into his room late at night when neither of you could sleep or only wanted to bask in the the other’s presence. He always grumbled and complained about the unruly times you chose to sneak out of your room and how dangerous it was for you to risk injuring yourself just to see him, but every time you countered his argument with a simple smile and a “I missed you” before proceeding to hug him tightly.

The first few times you told Bakugou this, audible explosions began to crackle from his palms and immediately he shoved you off of him (after wiping his sweaty hands on his pants) and barked curses at you. Eventually, he welcomed you silently with open arms.

During those quiet nights, you both would lay on his bed, limbs intertwined. At first, you and Katsuki sat at a distance, until he began to lay down on his bed and hissed at you to follow suit. Then, you made the first move to cuddle Bakugou after he called you over because of a nightmare— the rest was history from there.

Brushing fingertips was your first taste of intimacy with Bakugou, until he gained the courage to hold your hand. Afterwards came the long hugs. Then, those hugs transformed into Bakugou pulling your head to rest on his bicep. Next came intertwined legs and gentle caresses. And the cherry on top was when his walls finally came down and he allowed you to be his rock, the shoulder he cried on when his studies and hero work caught up to him and left him doubled over in hopelessness, desperate to put himself back together.

But what about Izuku?

What about the boy you spent practically every year of your life with, the man that plagued your mind in the early hours of dawn and the late hours of dusk?

Were you ready to remove him forever? Were you truly ready to give up on the one you loved fearlessly for all those years, even in the face of adversity?

For ages, Midoriya was your beacon of hope. When the world felt like it was caving in, when you shoved everyone out and suffered in solitude, he stood unwavering and unrelenting to listen to your command; he defied your expectations and exceeded them.

Though, good things cannot survive for eternities.

At one point Izuku Midoriya, the one who claimed your heart long ago, slowly began to fade right in front of your eyes. He prioritized his work— he made saving others the reason why he breathed.

When that realization dawned upon you and you understood that he would never fawn at you the same way you did with him, you drowned yourself.

It felt like death.

You didn’t want to think about this anymore.

I want the pain to finally end.

It was pointless to clutch onto the minuscule semblance of mortality you had left before you completely rested in the grave. If you accepted the hand the reaper held out to you, sleep would be eternal.

That’s what I always wanted, right? So take it. It’s not like I ever had anything to lose. Whatever I once owned will never be mine again.

Succumbing was always easy. Succumbing to desires always rewarded you, albeit only temporarily. It was simpler that way— to fall under the umbrella of constantly accepting demands.

“Let go.”

You did; you drank every night until you were blackout drunk.

“Hide.”

You did. You pushed everyone away and isolated yourself.

“Suffer.”

You did. You never sought out help when your thoughts became too grim and dreary to bare alone.

“End it.”

You did. You jumped off the cliff and into the ocean.

“Accept it.”

Slowly, you were.

Slowly, you let your thoughts disintegrate into the dark, emptying your mind of coherency. Of rationality, of humanity.

That lifeless feeling of iciness within you traveled across the expanse of your body until you wholeheartedly believed you had always been a glacier of ice and not once a living being.

Like a sinking boulder, you slipped from consciousness to never resurface.

And like a gentle kiss, a speck of warmth formed on your skin before disappearing.

“Please don’t leave me, (Name). I love you.”

“Don’t do that again, idiot.”

The voice is warm like apple cider on a winter day, mixed with a twinge of sweet, sugary cinnamon that permeates the expanse of your tongue. It feels so welcoming, so safe despite the harshness lingering in the undertones of the voice— akin to if a thick and heavy spoonful of honey coated your tongue like syrup flowing off a stack of fluffy and golden-brown pancakes. You craved to have the sugary sap reach the back of your mouth and slide down your throat before it saturated your system with the sticky sweetness.

A tepid and sweaty hand enveloped yours, coarse callouses sheltering the dry and peeling skin of your knuckles from the bitter cold breeze blown from the air conditioning.

More words fall deaf on your ears as the strings of consciousness tie themselves back together in effort to push you out of your drowning slumber. The soothing and homely voice continues to repeat broken and fractured phrases that you try to reach, pushing yourself out of the sinister hold of the tendrils.

Enraged by your defiant behavior, the obsidian tentacles wrap themselves around the tied strings and tug harshly in an attempt to tear you apart, to send you back to where the worst of your melancholy and despondent thoughts resided.

“Come back, don’t leave me here!” the voice cried. “You and I, we’re both the same. Wherever I go, you come with. We are one.”

Were you the same as that evil voice that had plagued your mind like a virus, worming its way into your bloodstream in hopes of controlling your body and fatally killing you?

Would you ever do that to someone?

You’d like to think not.

“You better not leave me behind. You need to be there when I become number one.”

There was that familiar voice again— it was so warm. It felt like hugging a toasty bag of freshly baked bread in the chilly morning, or sitting down on your couch with a steaming cup of hot cocoa on a rainy day, slowly sipping at the aromatic and creamy chocolate that made your stomach squeal in pleasure and delight.

You craved to feel like this forever.

With the threat of betrayal, the tendrils furiously tightened their bruising grip on your limbs, unwilling to part ways with you.

“I was there for you when nobody ever was! I stuck by your side when you isolated yourself and had nobody— when everyone ignored you!” the voice reminded you, enraged by your defiance.

Why couldn’t you just submit to it?

But weren’t you the one that caused it? If it wasn’t for you, would I really be here now?

The idea is a sudden one that sends you reeling, heart pumping and sweat beading at the top of your head. The once cozy heat that flooded your body boils, burning hotter than the fiery and explosive stars above. An audible sizzling sound can be heard where the tendrils meet your skin.

“You better fight back, damn nerd. Everyone’s been waiting for you out here— they dropped everything to come see you.”

Everyone? Your classmates and friends?

But weren’t they the ones who knew of your suffering and still refused to extend a helping hand to you?

“They all come and go, you know that. Why would you go back to them? Don’t go back on the promise you made. Just for Midoriya, remember?”

Promise? Midoriya?

Your mind was too muddled to comprehend the voice’s words.

“That dumb Deku is here too. He’s worried sick about you, wouldn’t stop blubbering like an idiot the minute he saw me.”

The sight of emerald eyes filled with tears flashes through the darkness of your mind, a blur of a murky white, lifeless black, and a faded green.

You should react— you should feel something. Anything.

But you don’t.

The imagery fades as fast as it arrives, leaving you to reside with the black of your mind. There’s no fluttering of butterflies or red rose petals swirling in the air out of the corner of your eyes. The thought of Midoriya doesn’t warm you further— it only leaves you colder than before.

In the pit of death, it’s just you and the last of your humanity.

“He never liked you anyway. You never mattered. You knew that, didn’t you?”

A meek part of you wants to disagree, argue that he had to have appreciated you at least in the slightest to have stuck around you for as long as he did. But the majority of you solemnly nods in agreement, aware of the countless times where you blindly reached out to Izuku Midoriya.

He simply tolerated you because you constantly suffocated him with your presence. Midoriya never had a mean bone in his body, he would never speak up if someone was a nuisance to him.

“Yes!” the voice hissed, delighted. Slowly but surely, you were falling prey to its hold; to the negativity it had spread wide throughout your mind.

It was only a matter of time before you succumbed.

“Wake up, (Name). Please.”

It isn’t worth it, is it?

“I know I haven’t been the best, but I’ll make it up to you. Promise. Just please, please don’t leave me.”

The warm voice cracks, its words quivering, and there’s a shaky intake of breath. It sounds pained.

“You caused that pain.”

You did, didn’t you?

“Just let it all go,” the voice sung. “Come with me and it’ll all go away. Everyone will be okay. You will be okay.”

You should.

You know you should.

You know you should finally let go. You’d lost everything. You’d lost your life and were trapped in this bottomless pit of black.

If you just let go, you could be free.

“Then do it. Stop listening. Ignore it all. Let me take over.”

There’s words that are being spoken to you from the voice beside you, some louder and intenser than the last, but you block them out. You ignore and let the ferocious tendrils wrap around you and pull you down.

The thin string that holds you together snaps.

And finally, finally, it all stops. The noise, the voices, the thoughts, the feelings, the aches and pains.

At last, it’s all over, you tell yourself.

But do you really believe it?

You would never know.

You don’t think you’ve seen this many people crowded into a single hospital room.

For you, no less.

All of the former Class A students from your years in high school have flooded your room, some of them even stuck in the doorway. From Grape Juice to Creati, the space is absolutely cramped.

Beside your bed are mountain-high piles of gifts and letters from your friends as well as others who could not attend in time for the visiting hours. Without a doubt, some of those presents contained articles of lavish and luxurious gifts you could only afford in the wildest of your dreams if you had the money of a top pro-hero. (Money that these heroes had, considering some had been born into wealthy families while others had become filthy rich after making bold headlines as heroes in the media.)

Not to mention, all their attention had been focused entirely on you since the moment you awoke.

Uraraka had been the first to pounce on you, spewing words that flew past her mouth with such vigor and rush that you could not keep up. Like a koala, she clung to you— arms wrapped around your neck in a vice and warm grip as she sobbed uncontrollably into your shoulder. Tsuyu had pried her off apologetically, but you merely continued to stare in a daze, the countless medications that they had pumped through your blood still in effect.

One by one, each visitor came up to your bedside and sat down beside you to speak while the others watched. Each interaction differed from the last.

Mina had buried your head into the crook of her necks as she brokenly whispered words of endearment and utmost adoration into your ear, rubbing your back softly as salty tears spilled from her eyes and onto the pillow behind you. Eventually, Mina clasped your face between her hands and grinned through tears at the sight of your face between her hands, further cementing the fact that you were alive and still with her.

After a couple more shared moments with some of the others, Todoroki had stepped up to you with an indecipherable expression painted onto his features before sitting down and opening his arms in a silent offer of a hug. You lifted yourself up and leaned into his hold and he held you delicately like glass, murmuring a gentle “I’m so sorry” and “Thank you for not leaving us.”

Once Todoroki left your side, Momo immediately took his place and buried your head into her chest. At that point, your eyes had begun to sting in response to the endless tears your friends had shed and you were sure they were just as red as Momo’s bloodshot ones.

After Yaomomo came Eijiro Kirishima, your personal golden retriever.

He had lunged at you, scooping you into his arms. Squeezing you tightly, Kirishima could not help but sob into the crook of your neck, shaking while doing so. Apologetic words were whispered brokenly, his voice cracking and changing pitch every syllable.

For someone so sturdy, so stable, you never thought the unbreakable Red Riot could crumble quite so easily.

At the hands of your own, no less.

Finally, the tears began to flow from your eyes, overpowering the dam that stubbornly refused to budge whenever it splintered. Wrapping your arms around Kirishima’s back, you clutch on for dear life, crying into his shoulder.

You almost died.

You did die.

The horror of your situation finally settles.

Your behavior and actions, it really did matter. It affected others, not only yourself. If these people were barely holding it together from seeing you now, alive and safe in a hospital, how would they have reacted if you did indeed die?

If the voice had truly beaten the odds, what would have happened to those around you?

You’re glad, you conclude, that you’ll never know and they’ll never really experience it either.

Death may conclude your story, but it doesn’t end theirs. You just close the book of their life and stop reading their story.

Glancing up from Kirishima’s quivering shoulders, you inspect the body language of everyone there. Some are hunched over, hands clasped over their mouths with tears staining their face. Others comfort each other, tenderly rubbing their backs.

However, there’s one person in particular that catches your eye.

He broods alone in the back, carmine eyes staring daggers into the ground. Dressed in his infamous black skull t-shirt and black sweatpants, his ash-blond hair stands out like a sore thumb.

You know that hunched figure like the back of your hand, even despite his immense growth over the years.

“Bakugou?”

It’s a quiet croak, a frightened whisper. But like the hawk he is, his head whips up, eyes widened in surprise.

And it is then, you see the true damage you’ve caused.

The rims of his eyes are a soft red, like the powdery light red of blush. Below his eyelashes lay streaks of fallen tears, their traces as evident as a bear’s footprints in still snow. His eyebrows are pulled together, wrinkling the space between his glassy eyes. It’s uncanny seeing Bakugou showing an emotion besides anger or neutrality, especially one akin to despair.

You’ve never seen such a hopeless expression visible on his face before.

You’re a monster.

For doing that to someone like him, you know you are.

Kirishima raises his head up and gives a small grin, glancing back at his companion. “Bakugou’s been here since you arrived at the hospital. He was the first person to contact us all about . . . this.”

You wince, pursing your lips at his not-so-subtle tiptoeing around your attempt. He means no harm, but the sting is just as intense at the reminder of your breakdown.

He moves off you and motions Katsuki to move towards your side, patting the blond on the back as he trudged over.

His steps are hesitant and slow— like a zookeeper approaching a wounded, rabid animal. Vermillion eyes inspect the tears that cling onto your eyelashes, the trembling at the corner of your lips, and the shallow intakes and exhales of breath from your throat.

The air between you is thick, but no matter how tense, you open your arms for Bakugou, staring at him teary eyed. He hovers above you, unsure of closing the distance between you both.

“Please?” Your arms tremble mid-air, and the tears on your face stream down faster. You don’t look decent— no one would look their best in such a weak, raw, and vulnerable moment, but you don’t care.

You don’t care because you know surviving is worth so much more than a presentable exterior.

Bakugou swallows thickly before moving into your embrace. His warmth contrasts the iciness in your bones and brings the blood rushing to the rest of your body. Your heart pounds rapidly and your lungs expand further and further, desperate to inhale all of Bakugou Katsuki in.

You stay like that for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “You idiot.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“If you need help, you better ask for it next time.”

And then, a small bit of warmth blossoms in your cheeks.

“Yeah, I know.”

MIDORIYA IS FRAGILE.

Midoriya is weak.

No matter how much time had passed and no matter how strong he became, he would always be that same helpless kid he once was. It was an innate part of him— Defenseless Deku would always be the child that existed in the corners of the Number One, Symbol of Peace Pro-Hero Deku’s mind.

Those thin, shaking arms and glassy, red-rimmed eyes all sewn onto a young boy would always be the reflection of Midoriya whenever he stared at the mirror.

Years of scars, fractured bones, and matured features would always fail at hiding the truth about the soul that lived within the body of the greatest hero in all of Japan’s history.

It’s something that lingered in his mind at the late hours of dusk and early hours of dawn— the harrowing truth about the Symbol of Peace.

How could one man be so strong, so powerful, yet be so weak, helpless, and vulnerable?

The thought bounced in his mind as he sat tiredly in the rickety chair of the hospital after receiving a panicked, cryptic worried message from Kacchan.

“‘She was tired. Bleak— dull. She wasn’t herself. She needs our help.’”

His words floated in Midoriya’s head, crashing into the sides of his mind once they resurfaced ashore, only to slip from the sandy outskirts of the beach and back into the rippling waves of the ocean.

“‘She needs you, Izuku.’”

(Name), his (Name), was in danger. You needed help- his help.

He wondered why Kacchan hadn’t just followed you himself. He had always loved you, long before Midoriya even did (or knew he did, for that matter). Midoriya had always known that.

Why didn’t he just play hero as he always would (just like when they were kids and Bakugou always wanted to be the one to only rescue you), and take all the glory for himself? It would end as it always did in those Hollywood films— the hero would save the girl and get her, and they would live happily ever after.

Isn’t that what Kacchan wanted? To live happily ever after with you?

At least, that’s what Midoriya had always concluded whenever his thoughts would trail back to the rather confusing relationship between you and his biggest rival.

Kacchan had always held a soft spot for you. Although the brashness of his actions and pointed words would’ve pierced anyone (like they soon did with him), those icicles simply melted before they could touch the surface of your skin.

And at first, that love was platonic (he believes, but Midoriya is unsure. He may have been able to read Kacchan like a book after years of knowing him, but he could never grasp his concept of romantic and platonic love. He didn’t know him like that.)

Gradually, however, it blossomed into something deeper than just a friendship. In the soil of his greatest rival’s heart, the roots of that love penetrated the layers of dirt before it overtook his heart and became something much stronger than either of them could have fathomed.

Kacchan would deny it all, though. Even to Midoriya.

Distinctly, Midoriya recalled watching Bakugou walk off to your dorm when you both were in your second year at U.A. He hadn’t thought much of it then (as it wasn’t until months afterwards did he begin to suspect Bakugou’s true feelings for you), but it became a frequent sight as the weeks passed.

In due time, Midoriya realized that Bakugou had been meeting up with you more than just those moments he saw Kacchan heading to your dorm room.

A polite voice snapped Midoriya from his spiraling thoughts.

“Mr. Midoriya, you are free to see (Last Name) (First Name).”

He gave a kind smile, bowing his head before he rose. Mindlessly, he walked down the hall until he found your room number the nurse gave.

Your room is secluded off into the end of the hall, beside nothing but a sterile white wall. It’s lonely out here— there are no people or gifts waiting outside the patient’s doors; just sterile, white walls and tiles.

You don’t belong here.

When Midoriya entered your room, the sight of your still body laying unceremoniously on the thin white bedding of the hospital greeted him. Not even a paper blanket had been thrown on you.

An IV drip is lodged into one of your arms, with wires of other sorts filling out the rest of the space on your forearms. Your hair is tangled and matted together by the salty water that once absorbed your body whole. There are fresh, pink cuts laying all over your body, no doubt sterilized by alcohol.

The scene reminded Midoriya of the many times he had landed himself in the hospital critically injured and on the verge of death.

You shouldn’t be in his place.

Never should you be in his place.

He loved you too much to stand seeing you so injured. You were a support hero— you stayed in the background to make the heroes of the public stronger. You belonged in an office where you would be safe and protected. Midoriya made sure of that when he requested you work for him.

But he let this happen.

It’s an unfortunate truth he doesn’t want to accept.

Midoriya knew about your feelings the whole time. He had seen the lovesick, dazed expressions you gave him. He saw the way you would grin happily after each passing interaction with him, how your eyes would light up whenever he stepped in the same room as you.

He knew because he would do all the same for you.

Every time he stepped into the office, his eyes would search for any semblance of you. It had always been like that.

He had always sought out for you, even as kids.

That’s why as he got older and realized the grasp you had on him, Midoriya attempted to flee his emotions. The longer he was around you, the deeper he spiraled in his endless pit of love for you. Butterflies would erupt every second he thought of you— they covered every inch of his being until he became a colorful mess of emotions.

And as he neared the number one spot, he realized the danger that came with such feelings. He would place a target on both your backs. Any villain looking for revenge against him would find you first as a means to get to him. And if they did— if they hurt you— he would have shattered

He would shatter.

That’s why he fled from your life: to protect you.

And himself.

Selfish Izuku.

But he failed to realize the affect it had on you. He never cared to look back and see how you took his sudden disappearance.

Look where that got you both, he tells himself.

You, in a hospital bed barely alive and him, guilty and torn apart at the seams.

Izuku Midoriya may be a hero, but he is a villain all the same.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, he is the villain in your story.

But he is— and that is enough to send the strongest man alive sprinting out of your hospital room and into the night, far away from you, his emotions, and the reality of your lives. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision as he soars in the air, pouncing from rooftop to rooftop.

The world will always remind Izuku Midoriya that while your worlds were meant to meet, they were meant to collide together and cause destruction.

He just never meant to damage yours as much as he did.

But Midoriya is weak. He is as fragile and helpless as they come, even if he is trapped in the body of the most powerful and capable being known to man.

The cruel universe continued to laugh at him, bathing gloriously in his misery.

Dumb little boy, it condescendingly cooed.

Helpless Izuku, it reminded him.

And he let it torment him, as he always had. Because while he may be the closest thing to God, even he cannot defy fate.

The world doesn’t welcome you with open arms after you’re discharged from the hospital.

When you step outside of the hospital doors, the weather isn’t warm and sunny with a gentle breeze that kisses your skin in those Hollywood movies. The ends of your clothes and hair don’t flutter majestically in the wind. Birds don’t swoop down and tweet enthusiastically at you, hopping to inch near you. There aren’t people happily chattering as they trek down the sidewalks and kids squealing as they sprint freely across the street.

Instead, it’s a sweltering kind of heat that causes sweat to form in every crevice of your body; it’s the kind that burns your skin the moment you step outside, tearing apart your dry, AC-adapted skin. Hair sticks to your face at unflattering angles and your wrinkled clothes are impossibly uncomfortable with every step you take. The polyester of your shirt rubs uncomfortably against the cuts and bruises located all around your body, making you wince. Animals and critters skitter away into the shade in hopes of cooling down. There are no pedestrians on the street or giddy kids. All you can see and hear are cars honking at each other, angry drivers, and speeding motorcycles.

Life is hideous, unfortunate, and cruel. Life is reality. Life is the truth and the truth was never meant to be kind or forgiving. It was meant to kick you off your high horse and humble yourself. It was meant to remind you no matter the strength you possessed, no matter how perfect you were perceived, you would always have to bow your head to the hand above. It was meant to teach you to never bite the hand that feeds you, or else dire consequences will come from those who are disobedient.

And you disobeyed it. You defied fate. You chose your own death, against the death the world had planned for you. You sunk your canines into the hand of life and tore its fingers off, letting the blood spurt over your face.

Now, you are paying for it by living through misery.

Before and after death.

Always and forever.

“Pathetic,” the voice whispered. “How pathetic, (Name). You can’t do anything right, can you?”

A sleek black cars rolls to the curb and a tinted window is rolled down. Ash-blond spikes stick out of the window and you are met with Bakugou’s gleaming eyes.

“You getting in, Princess?”

He sticks a thumb behind him, signaling for you to go to the back. Nodding your head, you step into the back of the vehicle and shut the door behind you, buckling your seatbelt.

You’re right, you agreed with the voice, I can’t do anything right.

Beside Bakugou in the driver’s seat is Todoroki, who sends you a charming smile when he looks back at you. Bakugou turns over as well.

“Hello, (Name).”

You softened at the sight of his body’s tension melting under your gaze. “Hi, Shoto. How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here.”

A bright laugh escapes you— it’s abrupt and loud— the kind that makes you roll around in your bed rethinking your every choice at the crack of dawn.

Yet, somehow for the first time in months, nearly years, you feel a little bit lighter.

The world seems a little brighter.

The voice boils in rage.

“Aren’t you just a charmer, Todoroki?” your hand waves teasingly as you press your head to the glass, swooning to the side. “I always knew your were my Prince Charming waiting to sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sucks air through his teeth, huffing loudly. Shoto’s eyes twinkle in amusement as he peers over at Katsuki, his eyes crinkling as his smile grows wider and the pearls of his teeth begin to show.

“If you have something to say Bakugou, you should communicate with us,” Todoroki stated matter-of-factly, glancing behind him before reversing out of his spot. “We’re friends, after all.”

Bakugou scowls, rolling his eyes before turning back and staring at you from the dash mirror. “You got all your stuff, (Name)?”

You nodded, watching as he turned to look off into the distance.

Bakugou had changed drastically from the teenager he once was in UA and even though you saw his development each year, never did you focus on each of his features as he matured.

Your mind wanders to the memories stored of the nights you continuously spent with Bakugou, drinking in his features. The images of the moonlight glowing on his skin like a gentle kiss from a loving mother. The slight curl of his eyelashes, always so long and full that the girls in middle school would jealously whisper over how pretty he was. The deep carmine of his eyes that resembled the reddest of apples, so shiny and perfectly polished that even the fruit trees strewn across Japan enviously would turn away, swaying their branches in the opposite direction just to look away from his breathtaking features.

Those features remained as an adult. Though, the only difference between younger Bakugou and your current one were their builds. Katsuki was taller, bulkier, and somehow even leaner to the point every angle of him appeared sharp. His jawline, the outline of his shoulders, his calf muscles, and everything inbetween. You had gotten accustomed to hearing the fangirls and fanboys of Dynamight ramble about his striking appearance, but you never noticed it properly until this moment.

He’s healthier.

Happier, too.

The once permanent scowl on his face has toned down to a stoic expression and his eyes seem purer than they ever had been before. His soul is kinder, his intentions are gentler. It’s evident with the way he interacts with the world around him, how his touch is less sudden and rough.

You’re glad to see him flourishing in life.

He deserves nothing but the best.

“You don’t,” the voice sneered.

A catchy tune permeates the air and you snap back to the present to find Shoto fiddling with the radio. Slender fingers twisted the black knob back and forth, lingering on each different station for only a moment before moving onto the next.

Shoto cleared his throat. “Are there any radio stations you both like?”

Bakugou shook his head. “I only listen to music from my phone.” He tilts his head back to look at you, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not really,” you tugged at your shirt, trying to distract yourself. “I’m kinda like Bakugou.”

Todoroki lets go of the knob and returns both hands to the steering wheel. “Well, I suggest one of you pull out your phone because we have a long way to go.”

His head bobs in Katsuki’s direction and Bakugou whips out his phone.

Quizzically, you peer at the two. Raising an eyebrow, you reiterate, “. . . A long way to go? My home isn’t that far from the general hospital. It’s not more than 10 minutes driving.”

Immediately, you look outside, reading the names of the streets that pass by. Street names you’ve never heard before pass by and you are met with unfamiliar roads and scenery. Instead of the usual shrubs you’re used to walking by, there are blossoming trees on every corner. This part of the city is far nicer than what you’re used to.

They aren’t taking you home.

“Hope you like animals, princess,” Bakugou chuckled, patting Shoto on the shoulder.

“Road-trip,” Shoto said in the most monotone voice possible.

You gulp.

Geez, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten in this car in the first place.

You grumble, pulling your legs to your chest.

Bakugou cackles loudly and Todoroki emits a small chuckle.

You crack a grin and close your eyes. The voice fumes.

Your smile brightens.

Life gradually begins to slow down as the months pass.

Time doesn’t go as fast, memories don’t escape your mind as much, and moments seem to last long enough to engrave themselves into you. No longer do you live life through your eyes as a spectator in your own body, but as an actual human being present in the moment.

In short, you’re recovering.

At least, that’s what your therapist says. Your friends too.

Not everyday is perfect. You’re not productive every morning, afternoon, or night. Sometimes, you can get out of bed with ease and settle into the little routine you’ve built for yourself. You can wake up, make your bed, change your clothes, wash your face, perform a skincare routine, make breakfast and commence with the day. You might be productive the whole days and run errands, make phone calls, book appointments, and catch up with friends and family. In other instances, your day is much more mundane. You lounge on the couch, hangout with friends, or treat yourself to some nice takeout or a nice walk to that local cafe or bakery. You end the day with a nice movie and popcorn, and even desert if you’re feeling something sweet. Then, you go to bed and the process repeats.

Other times, it feels impossible to even crack your eyes open. You can’t bring yourself to break through the state of slumber. All you can pray for are for those black tendrils to pull you back under into a dreamless world to distract you from reality. Getting out of bed is nearly impossible; it requires hours of coaxing yourself, frustrated tears, frantic thoughts, and maybe a pair of helping hands. The distance from your bed to your bathroom is infinite and the idea of even picking up your toothbrush has you collapsing on the spot. The tears bleed from your eyes and pile onto the sink and your pained sobs echo throughout the halls. The water of the shower is too much and you have to just sit there and wallow until a nagging feeling, a sliver of an authoritative voice reminds you there are bills to pay and there is a life to live. The day is filled with long hours of work and unrest and agony, but it only takes one text to guarantee a pair of warm arms will pick up the pieces of your pain when you get home.

Those days are the hardest, but you’ve survived each one. That in its own is a feat that you’re reminded of everyday you stare in the mirror. You imagine the faces of those who remain with you today whenever the thought dwells and you continue on.

Guilt sparks in your chest when you think of all of those who had suffered in the way you had but received no support and were left to suffer. Your heart cracks, but you know you must do this.

If not for you, for them. For those who were not as fortunate. You will live to tell the tale they could not.

You will remember them in life while they are remembered in death.

Your therapist says trial and error is how you succeed in life. Learning from mistakes is how you grow into someone greater than you were before.

To conclude each session, she reminds you consistency is key. Each time you tell her, “‘Frankly, that’s the hardest part about recovery.’”

It’s hard to be consistent because nothing is consistent in your life. Nothing is consistent in life. The world is ever-changing. Everyday, the Earth spins and something changes around you. A child grows a year older. A baby is born. A loved one is lost. Life dies. Life is reborn. Love blossoms and love dies. A new creation is discovered while another is destroyed. A heart is broken while another is mended.

Someone changes. And at one point in time, you were that person who changed.

Without a beat, she sends you that wistful smile of hers and that one sentence that leads you snorting out of her office.

“‘You like to surprise the world, (Name).’”

For the longest time you had thought she was going mad listening to you, but you eat your words now.

“Did you love him?”

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

Slender fingers wrap around the end of the teaspoon, digging the head into the cup of sugar. Another few reach for the China teacup placed in the middle of the table, gently moving it forward to meet the now full spoon of sugar. The grains of white tumble out of the rounded metal and into the warm water, sinking to the bottom until the same spoon hits the water and stirs them around, dissolving them.

The fresh cup of tea is handed to you.

“Who?” The ceramic’s temperature is a favorable kind of warm— the type that spreads from your fingertips into the rest of your body until you’ve melted in a comfortable pile of goo that brings a content feeling swelling in your chest.

The tea is even warmer, steam hitting your face as you go to sip it. The liquid slips past your lips and over your tongue, coating every crevice of your mouth. The hints of mint and Jasmine blend perfectly with each other, the sweet floral balances out the spice of the mentha.

It reminds you of him.

“Don’t be coy, (Name). You know who I’m talking about.” You want to decline her assertion— to argue that her generality is misleading and she should specify who the man she suspects you have fallen in love with is. But this lady is one you have known for your whole life, one who you believe may just know better than all the rest despite your drastic differences. She was always there to keep you in check between reality and fiction.

Finally, you look up.

Astute and inquisitive eyes the color of carmine align with yours. Mitsuki grins slyly, her eyes twinkling in amusement. “There’s those pretty eyes. Glad to see you’re still in tact, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not fragile, Mitsuki. And you’re starting to sound like Katsuki.”

The woman’s eyes soften at the sound of her son’s name and crinkle at the edges in thought. “He got his language from me, y’know. I was the one who called you all those sweet things when you were young. I mean, you were just the cutest little girl!” She wears an adoring smile on her face as she gazes at you with so much motherly love that you can only fidget under her gaze, lowering your eyes in embarrassment.

You never got used to the fireball known as Mitsuki Bakugou, nor her affections. From your earliest days, you could recall the way she would just coddle you. Whenever her son seemed to be talking your ear off or you were overwhelmed, she would simply pluck you out of Bakugou’s reach and walk away from his vicinity, cradling you in her arms cooing quietly at you. No matter how much he would protest, Mitsuki would be your getaway from any situation you couldn’t seem to defuse yourself.

On the weekends, she would take you out shopping with her as if you were her own kin, doting on you like a second mother. She would buy you clothes, books, get you icecream and take you out to eat. Your parents liked to joke that she was their own free babysitter, to which she would always exclaim that you would always be the daughter she never had.

As you got older, that powerful kind of love Mitsuki possessed was one you saw less and less of. That growing rift between you and her son was greater than ever, and the chances you had of seeing her was minimal, minus the outings she would frequently invite your folks to. Even then, she would always be mingling with the crowd.

Sometimes, you wondered if she was there with you through your hardest years would your life have turned out differently. It’s a thought to entertain, but the consequences of misery and despair flare at the idea.

You push the concept down whenever it pops up.

She continues.

“Katsuki simply followed suit. He’s my boy, after all.”

“Your own personal carbon copy,” you agree, stroking the intricately painted patterns of the fine China. The thought of Mitsuki’s question lingers in your head, prodding at a hidden part of your mind you had tucked away for ages now.

The topic of Izuku Midoriya was one you stopped entertaining after the night at the cliff. You had ripped it from the forefront of your mind, shoved it deep inside a metal vault, locked it shut, and tossed the key away.

The relationship between you both was messy— it was a lack of communication, a tangled mess of emotions and one-sided care. The bubble of your affections was filled with mistreatment, betrayal, selfishness, and greed. It was take, take, take from Midoriya and give, give, give from you. It wasn’t healthy for you nor Midoriya.

After you had opened the can of worms that was the man you once loved with your therapist, it wasn’t possible for you to ever see him in the same light. You could never stare at Midoriya with that blindly lovestruck gaze through those rose-tinted lenses. All that flashed before your eyes at the mere mention of him was the horror, sympathy, and guilt that swirled in her eyes as she listened to you. The shaky hug she had given you made you quiver in your shoes and the tears that fell from her eyes made your own slip past your hold.

That was the first time you had seen her professional facade break.

The thought that even the most experienced and knowledgeable of people in the world breaking at the seams from your supposed love story sickened you to your core.

“Was it that obvious?” Truthfully, you’re curious. Did everyone around you know how you used to feel about him? Were your affections for him that palpable?

“Very,” she nods, bringing the cup to her lips once again. “None of us saw it at first when you were kids. Not Inko, myself, or your family.”

Mitsuki sets the cup down, leaning her head on her hand. “But as you all grew up, we all realized that whenever you were with Izuku, you lit up in a way none of us had ever seen before. It was puppy love in our eyes, so we didn’t think much of it at first.”

A noncommittal hum leaves your throat and you inspect Mitsuki as she speaks.

“I mean, you were obvious. It was sweet,” Mitsuki laughs, the vermillion irises of her eyes shining in glee. Suddenly, she placed a finger to her cheek in thought. “Have you spoken to him as of late, (Name)?”

“Midoriya?” you blink, surprised. She doesn’t know, (Name). Stay calm.

You shake your head before going to down the rest of your tea. Mitsuki waved her hand in the air, her face morphing into an indecipherable expression.

“The brat told me about how worried the both of them were over you when you were still in the hospital,” she begins, and she looks down, lowering her voice. “He . . . He was scared.”

You still.

“Scared?” you parrot. “Why? He’s seen worse, hasn’t he?”

The eyebrows of Mitsuki’s face furrow and she sets her teacup down, clasping her hands together. It’s as if the air around you stills and time begins to freeze, pausing the orbiting of Earth itself.

Mitsuki hesitates. “He called me in tears when he was waiting for you to wake up— he was terrified. And when your heartbeat flatlined?” Mitsuki shakes her head. “He couldn’t hold himself together anymore. That Todoroki kid and Kirishima had to take him outside to console him.”

She stares at you, smiling sadly. “The last time he was that petrified was when he was a child, (Name).” A small exhale leaves her lips. “If he lost you that day, he would have lost everything.”

“Huh?” you sweat-drop. “Katsuki has a lot going for him in life, Mitsuki. I don’t think my . . . disappearance would be the end of him.”

Mitsuki shakes her head with a solemn smile, the low curl of her lips hinting at a secret unbeknownst to you. “You just don’t know how much you mean to my boy, (Name).”

She sighs. “I wish he would just tell you already. But I suppose now isn’t this time, is it?”

Mitsuki stands from her position, moving over to pat your head affectionally before leaving the kitchen.

A small part of you claws at your throat, screeching at you to stop her fading figure. It itches at you, desperate to scratch at the surface of your curiosity.

What does Katsuki need to tell me? And why won’t he?

“Curiosity killed the cat, (Name),” the voice giggles in glee. “You don’t want to meet that same end again, do you?”

A booming voice cuts through the clouds in the sky, sending you falling back to the ground.

“You ready to go?”

Leaning against the frame of the hall in all his glory is Katsuki Bakugou, dressed nicer than you’ve ever seen him. He’s wearing a fitted black polo from a brand far too expensive for you to name off the top of your head and a pair of tailored khaki pants. Placed on his right wrist is a black Vacheron Constantin watch with intricate carvings and stones within the clock that looks far too expensive for you to even fathom purchasing or even browsing through.

Like a moth to a flame, Mitsuki steps over to her son, fussing over him like a mother bird with her chick. She huffs as she adjusts the collar of his shirt accordingly, and he groans as his mother who was nearly a foot shorter than him pranced around and fixed his appearance.

The sight was heartwarming, sending a wave of nostalgia through you.

“You expect to go out with (Name) looking like that? I raised you better than this, Katsuki! You’re the son of a fashion designer!” Mitsuki scolds, combing out his hair.

He grumbles, swatting her hand away. “You hag—! I look fine!”

The bickering between the two continues, both of them going back and forth. She swats at his shoulder, even going as far to beat him with her slipper.

Bakugou takes each hit, not moving to fight back. You know he could stop her if he wanted. After all, he was the second strongest hero of Japan and pure muscle. No woman or man stood a chance against him.

Though, when you see Bakugou wince as his mom smacks him for the nth time, you’re left thinking that maybe Mitsuki might be the exception to the rule.

The thought bubbles a giggle in your throat that leaves you chortling to the point of tears. It’s a sound that hasn’t escaped you in ages.

Your chest feels full. Your body feels warm— not the restricting kind, but the comforting one.

They both turn to the sound, their expressions softening as you doubled over in joy. You look up and find Bakugou’s eyes swirling with an emotion that sends your heart fluttering and a brighter grin growing on your face against your will.

The expression reminds you of one you always stared at Midoriya with.

Could it be . . . ?

Heat spreads across your body and your heart skips a beat.

“No one could ever love you, (Name). No one ever will. You’re unlovable,” the voice smirked. “Foolish little (Name). Lovestruck already for another man you’ll never get? How humiliating.”

You recoil back into your timid shell, causing Mitsuki to give Katsuki a look.

The look.

It shouts at him, “Go comfort (Name)! How else are you going to win her heart?”

The one Katsuki returns barks, “What do you think I was going to do?! You’re bothering me, hag!”

Mitsuki rolls her eyes before slapping his shoulder with a huff. “Well, you better go now Romeo, or else I’ll whisk her away from you first!”

He breaks eye contact first, rolling his eyes as he nears towards your hunched figure. From the lowering of your head, he suspects your eyes are trained on the table in front of you. Though, his vision is obscured by the hair that falls in front of your eyes that he so desperately desires to tuck behind your ear.

Be selfish, his mind screamed. Take what you want the most.

But for you, he swore to never bite the hand you fed him from. He would always be grateful for the attention, affection, and care you gave him. You were always so generous with him and the twerp.

Perhaps this time, he would become the hand that did not feed you, but pampered you. Loved you. Took care of you. He would prove that he was not a man greater than the world when he was on his knees beside you. You were his equal, his other half.

He would treat you better than Midoriya ever did. While the Symbol of Peace was blessed with countless chances to end as yours, to take off running with you into a never-ending fairytale, he always left you to eat dust and dirt. Even when Bakugou sacrificed the one chance he had for Midoriya, he refused to atone for his sins. Instead, he only ran further.

This time, Bakugou would not wait for the world to give him a chance. He would create his one last chance with you.

He would love you right. Properly, fully, and unconditionally.

Unlike Midoriya.

A calloused hand gently pushes a few strands behind your ear before cupping the side of your face, bringing your eyes back into focus. Rough palms lovingly caress the apple of your cheeks and instinctively you lean into their hold.

From their touch alone, you know who this is.

Kneeling beside you is Katsuki Bakugou in all his glory, vermillion eyes and all trained on your face. Delicately, you move your hand to wrap around his wrist, giving him a small grin at his delicate behavior. It reminded you of the nights you spent back at UA together.

The syrupy feeling in your chest swirls faster.

A sudden flick smacks your forehead and instinctively you grab your head, face morphing into a glare. “You done prancing with your head in the clouds? We got a reservation to meet.”

You playfully scoff, standing up. “You can’t be nice for once, can you Katsuki?”

He laughed. “Never, Princess.”

The two of you head towards the front door, hugging Mitsuki as you leave. As you both enter Bakugou’s car, she waves you off with a “stay safe name! And protect her Katsuki!”

“We will, Mitsuki!” you shouted, waving. Bakugou grumbles and affectionately, you ruffle his hair. “He says he will, too!”

Mitsuki emits a hearty laugh as she walks back inside the comforts of her own home.

“So where are we headed to eat?” you trace the end of your dress, twirling the loose fabric. “You said to dress nicer than normal, but I’m not too sure what to expect with you pro-heroes.“

Bakugou snorts. “What makes you say that, sweetheart?”

You side-eye Bakugou, cocking an eyebrow. “Take a wild guess.”

“Half-N’-Half took you to one of those rich restaurants in Tokyo?” Bakugou doesn’t even glance over. He’s right and he knows it.

As always.

You grimace, melting into your seat. “I wish I could have evaporated into thin air the moment I stepped inside.”

The occurrence had happened not even a week ago. Only hours before you were meant to hangout with Todoroki, he had sent you an ominous text to simply dress well. When he picked you up, all he would tell you was that you both were attending somewhere nice to dine for the night. And as clueless as ever, you assumed it would be a slightly more upscale restaurant than you both typically frequented.

But boy, were you wrong.

The restaurant was at least fifteen stories tall with clear panes of glass covering every inch of each wall. Chandeliers covered each foot of the high rise ceilings and the floors were glassy, gargantuan tiles that were a pale color of hessonite. The furniture in the establishment were expensive— mulberry silk, plush cushions, bocote wood and all.

The patrons appeared to be just as wealthy, if not more. Dressed in the finest of suits and dresses, adorned with flashy and gauzy jewelry, each and every one of them burned brighter than last.

Shoto too, fit right in. Elegant and classy, they all gawked at the Number Three Pro-Hero.

And you, in comparison to them, stood out like a sore thumb. Meek, humble, and intimidated. You could hear their whispers about you, that night. But you chose to suck down your raging emotions to enjoy the night and tasty dishes.

Well, for as long as you could.

“Was the food good? Shit like that is either hit or miss,” Bakugou commented as he took a right turn, peeking at the GPS set up in the car. “We’re almost there.”

You nod, watching as the once filled roads of the highway cleared into empty streets of residential neighborhoods. “The food was fantastic, but the portions wouldn’t have even fed an infant. I don’t think I’d ever go back, though.”

“Why not?”

You blink, scratching at the skin of your arm to distract yourself from Bakugou’s question. Maybe, just maybe he would ignore your silence—

He repeats his question, opting to now stare at you. You shrink further back into your seat.

There’s no point in lying now, is there?

“I kind of freaked out,” you admit, leaning against the window. The glass is cool against your skin and you let your eyes close momentarily. “I was thrown into an unknown environment and I could feel all their eyes on me. They weren’t trying to hide the fact that they were talking about me.”

You kicked off your heels, sitting your legs up on the seat. “Halfway through, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I told Shoto I had a call to take and nearly sprinted outside to get some fresh air.” You open your eyes, looking at the dashboard in front of you. “It’s humiliating to think about it now, but I left for nearly an hour trying to calm myself down. I must’ve looked insane to anyone walking by.”

The imagery of you sitting on your bottom in front of a Michelin star restaurant with your head in your hands breathing erratically and on the verge of tears made you cringe at the idea. You definitely got some dirty looks, even if no one approached you.

Timidly, you peered at Bakugou. His expression was blank and his lips formed no response.

Your heart constricts itself in your chest.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut, you chastise, curling deeper into yourself. Dread filled your stomach. Why did I even open my mouth?

“Why did you?” the voice taunts. “Everything is easier when you just stay quiet.”

Tears bud at the corner of your eyes and you curl deeper into yourself, focusing on the scenery flying by outside.

Despite the two of you entering residential roads, the area looks familiar. The quiet streets eventually delve into a busy intersection filled with grocery stores and small businesses. The scene looks familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it.

“Stupid, little (Name),” the voice coos patronizingly. You grit your teeth. The dread that once resided in your stomach transforms into a festering anger that dribbles into your bloodstream, spreading like pure poison.

The voice beams, spinning circles around your mind eagerly. “Didn’t we go over this last time, (Name)? I’m always right. You’re always wrong. That’s just how it is. That’s life.”

That’s not true— you’re nothing but a filthy liar! you seeth, digging your nails into your skin. I believed you and look where I am—

The thought freezes you. As soon as it comes, it dies. You can hear the voice giggling in delight. Horror creeps into your chest. You tremble in return.

I thought I was getting better. That hopelessness you thought left your system months ago seeps into your bones, attempting to crack the wall of sanity you had spent months building. I thought I was supposed to be healing.

The mantra that rung repeatedly in your head that evening at your office plays again, mimicking that dull little tune. I can’t, I can’t, I—

“We’re here,” Bakugou turns off the ignition of the car. Swiveling your head, you are met with carmine irises and narrowed eyes inspecting your features.

You gulp.

Choke it down, (Name). You’re ruining it for him. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re okay. You’re fine. You’ll be okay. Just get out. Just leave. It’s only a few more hours and then you can kiss the bed goodnight and never wake up again.

Finally, when you turn to see where you arrived, your heart plummets.

To your side lay swaying blades of grass, swinging to the current of the evening breeze. They dance in the wind, luring the unknown to enter their arcane kingdom. In between the luscious planes of evergreen grass is a dirt road, soiled with muddy tracks from those who had come before you two.

The idea that some of those tracks could have been yours sends you reeling.

I can’t do this. This has to be some sick joke the universe is playing on me. A nightmare.

Suddenly, Bakugou is in front of your door, unlocking it for you. No words are said, except for the calloused hand he has laid out for you. You can’t see his eyes, but you’re sure he must think you’re insane.

If he didn’t before, he surely did now.

Just get the night over with, (Name). It can’t be that bad, right? You’re just overthinking it. It’s not that big of a deal.

“You’re too naive,” the voice sings. Slowly, the inky tendrils of despair emerged from the crevices of your mind, circling your brain. Latching onto any expanse of mind, they pulled and pushed. “You’re hopeless. Why do you even try? You failed once. You’re nothing. You’re worthless.”

I’m not worthless, you argue back, taking Bakugou’s hand. He’s saying something that you can’t pick up, but you don’t care enough to. Rage bubbled beneath your skin. I’ve made it this far. I survived. I can do this.

Storming off, you walk on the trail. Each step you take is filled with fury and steam, gallons upon gallons of boiling emotions that you can’t wait to scream into the night.

When you walk along the curves, twists, and turns of the trail, you don’t picture the nights you spent running up the path with Midoriya. You don’t envision locks of green rooted with black bouncing with each step, galaxies of freckles or the craters you call dimples. Those stupidly bright red shoes the color of maraschino cherries aren’t what form in your mind as you stare at the ground, watching one foot go in front of the other.

Instead, those memories are replaced with the days you spent drinking yourself into oblivion, desperate to drown your sorrows. Flashes and flickers of empty beer bottles strewn across patches of damp, crushed and curled grass play in your head. The sight of filthy and grimy white tiles and a pair of shoes dragging themselves repeat in your head like a broken tape, the beep of a scanner continuously breaks each train of coherent thought that attempts to enter your head.

“‘Would that be all?’”

Thousands of voices ask, some more feminine, some more masculine, some exactly in-between or strewn off into the left or right. Their faces are blurs and unrecognizable blends, obtuse and acute shapes. Their noses are thin, thick, long, short, stout, round, curved up or down, broken or centered perfectly. Their faces are long, round, slender, puffy, soft, rough, bony, or chubby. It’s angles and curves, proportions and disproportions. There’s marks— dots, lines, squiggles, blobs— imperfections in their eyes, but they’re just shapes in yours. Their strands of hair are slicked back, falling forward, parted down the middle, sides, sticking up, down, left and right, or to the side. Their eyes come in different shapes— circles, ovals, diamonds, almonds, pistachios. The outlines are round, big, small, sharp, soft, thin, delicate, tough.

There’s billions of them.

But you never cared enough to truly study their features, instead opting to let a hum and snatch the alcohol from the counter, disappearing in the night.

Now, you wonder if you had cared to stare them in the eyes for a moment longer, to peer past the veil of darkness before your eyes, would you have been saved? Would you have been stopped in your tracks, staring at glistening eyes filled with life, youth, and humanity, disturbed at your disgusting, reckless behavior?

“No one could have saved you,” the voice reminds. “No one can save you. No one will save you.”

Your blood boils and the sense of reconciliation shatters, leaving you sourer than before. Frustrated, you stomp faster, ignoring Bakugou.

The only thing audible is the blood pumping in your veins, the angered huffs from your mouths, and the stomping of your heels against the trail. Each step causes the ends of your shoes to stick further into the soil, making each motion more exerting than last. At the rate you storm up the path, sooner or later fate will bring you down on your knees to kiss the dirt.

With every few feet, the soil beneath your feet hardens. The layers become dryer, returning every step with enough abrupt force to keep you resurfaced. No longer do the pebbles littering the ground sink in; instead, they slide with the specks of dirt, tumbling up and down with the breeze of the wind. You ascend further and further, rise higher and higher. No longer do you fall to your surroundings.

Instead, you rise above them.

“Just like the waves,” the voice beams. “But this time, will you fall below them?”

Time seems to slow to a stop, and you are brought back to reality, frozen in your tracks.

The sea sings its song, the one it always has— the lullaby that sailors fall asleep to and creatures far below the surface awaken for. Each wave crashes against the rocks littered around the cliff wall, the impact of every hit resonating in the air. The droplets of salty water fly high into the air, dropping as fast as they bounced from the cold stone.

The once comforting noises of the deep blue haunt you, seeping into your ears and drowning your heart.

“Don’t step too close to the edge, or you’ll fall off, Princess.”

A sudden warmth blooms on your wrist and when you turn your head, your gaze meets Bakugou’s. Carmine meets (e/c), the two melting into the other.

He wears a cocky grin, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It looks forced, dare you say, nothing like the bright and deadly grin that adorns his face on the battlefield or when he jokes with friends.

You want to ask, “Are you okay?” But your mouth is glued shut and your body is too heavy to move, so you opt to stand in silence with your wrist in his rough palms, allowing the heat of him to bleed into the coldness of you.

“You’re missing the main attraction, sweetheart,” Bakugou nods his head to the side and your gaze follows suit.

Laying a few feet away from you is a picturesque picnic, straight out of any girl’s Pinterest board. There’s a large black blanket laid out with fairy lights spread all around it, lighting up a pathway for you to enter its soft kingdom. Plates of pastries, fruits, and different foods rest around each inch, goading you to come and take a bite. There’s a wooden basket woven to create the finest pattern, a heart, centered in the middle filled with ice and two bottles of what you believe are champagne and wine.

Your stomach lurches and the tea you had earlier churns in delight to make a reappearance from your gut. You swallow thickly.

“Wow,” is all you manage, but you see the corners of Bakugou’s lips turn just a little bit higher at the words. He doesn’t seem to notice your inner turmoil.

“Did you really think he would? After he hid the fact that he knew you were suffering all this time?”

You answer with memories of going out with friends, with him distracting you from your crumbling life after you escaped the hospital. The voice scoffs at each one and with every noise of disappointment, you hole yourself further and further into your mind.

Bakugou gently tugs you forward, leading you to the picnic. Moving to the side, he guides you to sit down, to which you curl your legs into your side. Carefully walking around the fairy lights, he takes a seat, crossing his legs.

The air between the two of you is tense, awkward. None of you make the first move to speak or eat. You just sit in silence with your hands in your lap, fiddling with your fingers. Never once do you dare to peer up and see how Bakugou reacts to the feel of the room.

Selfish.

He makes the move to pick up a piece of food, and you follow suit by grabbing some mochi. At least that would keep you busy.

Bits of conversation fall between you two, but no sparks fly. It’s lifeless and dull— the fireworks that once blew up beside you two now blew up between the two of you, creating a rift greater than the Nile River.

The mochi is soft as it is sticky, refusing to tear from its body. Though, when it finally breaks, it resists your teeth as you chew it slowly, fighting to keep itself whole. The doughy inside burst into your mouth, sweetening your tastebuds.

Though, the saccharine goodness does little to cancel out the bitterness in your heart and the sourness on your tongue.

“You should see the water. Looks gorgeous when you’re up close,” Bakugou sets down a piece of strawberry cake he had bitten through, nearly halfway done. Rising from his position, he extends a hand to you, goading you to follow in his steps. You mindlessly take the bait, allowing him to drag you like a little girl with her dolls.

Each step closer is painstaking. A nasty feeling latches itself onto your mind, eating through the walls of your sanity. Long, thick, silver drills press into the cement, chomping with all its might to destroy the structure.

“Isn’t it just nostalgic?” the voice prances, jumping back and forth in ecstasy. “You and me, just like from day one.”

You wonder if the glass shards from the broken beer bottles remained spread across the plains of grass, nestled deep between each patch of blades. Had others whom trekked these hills let the glass crunch beneath their feet, shattering the sticky, translucent material? Did they ever consider the story behind the pile of broken bottles, wondering if a soul was suffering the way you were? Or did they merely scoff at the sight, commenting about how reckless others were at the sight of haphazardly tossed glasses with the image of a group of teenagers drinking and giggling into the night?

Did they treat it kindly, lifting each individual piece and storing it to toss away? Or did they kick it to the side with a huff, stepping around any other messes nearby?

Would they have believed a soul if they told the story about a woman drowning in her own agony, her own lovesick foolery? Would they have empathized with the lost soul tethered together by a vile voice, haunting her every living moment?

Would they have listened to the soul beneath their shoes and the sky above their heads sing the tale of misery?

“Would you believe them?”

No, you answer, now peering at the water that soared to the edge of the cliff. I wouldn’t have even listened.

The salty liquid crashes against the boulders, flooding every crevice until the dips overflowed, spilling back into the ocean. Algae resurfaces with every wave, creeping further upon the cliff. Different creatures slip from the holes, desperate to escape the vicious cycle of life and Mother Nature.

Some drown, some drift off into the abyss of black, and others survive. It’s as beautiful as it’s painful and horrific.

Life is cruel. Life is unfair. Life is unforgiving.

Life is a rose— deceptively gorgeous with its bright lights, warm skies, cool breezes and pretty organisms. But with every creation comes its thorns— its threats and consequences for such beauty.

Life is you. You are life.

You are living.

Your throat constricts and your fists clench.

The sky is no longer a melting pot of warmth. There are no hues of burgundy, honey, or marmalade. All that lingers in its tracks are the sinister obsidian, with streaks of berry blue and a deep indigo that looks nearly the same as the vantablack that permeates the entirety of the atmosphere surrounding you. It is freezing cold and frigid.

The twinkles of fluorescence in the air are the only symbol of warmth left, but they are just as cold as the world around you is. They never lit up in the cozy tones of color. They were overshadowed, for they thawed under that gentle glow it emitted.

Static trickles into your ears, blocking out the noise of your surroundings. The control of your own body slips from between your fingertips, tipping into the ocean below. The sight of the world around you blurs and finally, you are rendered helpless.

Bile comes up instantly.

The world seems to nearly tip over as you hurl, coughing up all the liquids and food that had once churned within your stomach. Thick, corded arms wrap around your waist, stabilizing you and soothing your pained body.

Choked coughs escape your throat as you are forced to expel all the contents of your stomach, burning your throat. A tang of bitterness is heavy on your tongue and your mouth is impossibly dry. Grabbing at your throat, you perform a poor hand motion of drinking and instantly Bakugou hands you a glass.

It’s clear— it looks close enough to water. You down it.

It’s sweet, bubbly, and nothing like water. Once again, you vomit. It rushes back through your nose and out of your mouth, leaving you shuddering in place. A surprised “Shit!” leaves Bakugou’s mouth and he tugs you to him, rubbing your back with those large calloused palms of his.

You cough, inhaling every bit of air. “You— god— you gave me champagne?”

Bakugou hissed. “I didn’t realize that we didn’t have water— I was trying to help!”

It burns, stings. Your throat is on fire, your chest is constricting on itself and your heart is pounding. The heat of Bakugou only adds to the coldness of your skin, the iciness that seeped from your insides to your skin. Your eyes demand to fall shut, the lids drooping with every breath. The world feels dead around you, your head is heavy, and you are limp.

You are dead. You are a dead man trapped in a living body.

Bakugou shifts. “Are you . . . okay? Fuck— that’s a dumb question but—”

The thumping of Bakugou’s heart brings your eyes to shut. “I thought I was. Yanno, I thought I was recovering and all that. I was making progress. That’s what everyone said.”

A warm finger slides under your eye, brushing the puffy skin gently. “But?”

“I guess I didn’t. Or I did and I fell backwards. Took one step forward and six steps back.” You push your head further into his chest in a poor attempt to allow the exhaustion of your body to seep into the heat and disappear. “Lately, it feels like I’m back to before the hospital. I don’t reach for the beer like I did before, but that misery and hopelessness still lingers within me.”

Does it ever go away? you want to ask. Do I ever heal?

Nobody can answer. Time can only tell. Life can only smile.

You glance up at Bakugou and watch as his face contorts into a confused expression, lost at your words. A sad smile graces your lips. “You know, it was here where it all happened. I don’t think you even knew— I don’t even know how you knew about this spot— but I guess that’s what I get. I mean, it’s what I get for not telling you the entire truth, I guess. The world likes to make people pay for their actions, huh?”

Bakugou remains silent.

“I hate this place. It reminds me of him.” You both are aware of who you’re referring to. “We found it together. When we were kids in UA. Maybe even before, I don’t really remember.”

Bakugou shifts the two of you so you’re both laying down, inching away from the cliff and back to the cloth. He brings his hand to your back, rubbing soft circles and figure eights. You bury your head into his chest, words muffled by his shirt.

“There’s so many memories here. Good and bad. And I kept coming back all this time to relieve them because of him. But he never cared. It’s stupid now— I can’t believe I never saw it. I was holding onto something that had died long ago and I was dying because of it. I think I’m dead now, anyway. I don’t feel alive.”

You choke on your words. “I want it to all go away, Katsuki,” you say plaintively like a child, clutching his shirt. “Please.”

The waves smash against the cliff and you curl closer to him. He’s warm, so impossibly warm, but you can’t seem to seek equilibrium and match temperatures.

The noise won’t be drowned out.

Stop, please. Stop, stop, stop.

“I can’t save you,” he begins.

Your heart falters in your chest. The dam in your eyes splinters, the wood that held the water behind your eyes begging to flood.

“‘M a hero, but some battles aren’t meant to be fought by all.”

You whimper.

“I can try to help you, (Name), but no one can save you. You have to want to get better to heal. It’s not going to be easy and you won’t be alone, but you have to be willing to hold yourself together. We can only support you, but you have to be the change you want to happen.”

He tilts your head to him, pointer finger under your chin. The soft carmine bleeds into the blurry (e/c). “I know you can do it. You’re strong and you flourish even when everyone around you tells you you can’t. You’ve outdone the best of the best in your fields.”

You sniffle. “That was once. Hatsume just made a dumb mistake.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re capable, (Name). But you need to trust and believe in yourself. It’s hard; I know. But you’ve gotta if you want to move on.”

Your lip quivers. “Did— did you know?”

His eyebrow raises.

“About Midoriya?”

His face falls into a neutral expression and you swallow thickly. He nods.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“If I did, would you have listened? I think you knew but refused to accept it.”

You sigh, wiping your eyes. “I guess that’s true.”

Silence settles before he breaks it.

“(Name).”

You look at him and watch as he hesitates, looking away from your eyes before speaking.

“I—”

The words fade into the steady sloshing of the water, drowning into the night.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Kind, cerulean eyes follow the twitch of your fingers as you twirl the ends of your hair between your fingertips, until you let it fall back to its original spot.

She lets out an amused hum, spinning her machina fountain pen between the area where her thumb and pointer finger connected. The expensive pen had a pointed tip with edges sharper than the tip of a freshly-shaven knife, curving beautifully into a fine line. The body of it was a gooey, deep decadent chocolate brown mixed with a tint of crimson and carmine that left a particular shine when placed into the light. Thin strips of white and a blush, baby pink spilled onto the body, twisting and curving until it wrapped around the top of the pen.

Wealthy people, you shiver.

“If you continue to burn holes into the pen, it might as well explode.” She tosses the pen up for good measure, showcasing a number of spins before it slips right between her middle and index finger, securely settling it in a perfect pencil hold. “My late husband bought it for me.“

Your heart twists. “Oh.”

She chuckles, lowering her gaze to the pen held in her right hand. “He always spoiled me with lavish gifts. I was so frugal and stingy when I was younger, but he wanted nothing but the greatest for me. Everything I own now is all from him.”

A thin glaze coats her eyes, the pale sapphire flooding into a deep, engulfing azul. The flecks of silver seem to brighten against the cerulean tint, the blacks of her pupils tracing the intricate lines carefully. Long sections of white hair fall around her face, covering nothing more than the corners of her eyes and the highest end of her cheekbones.

“Is that your quirk?” The question jolts her out of her mind, eyebrows furrowing at your directness. You swallow, peeking at the window to protect your mind from her piercing eyes. “You’re young— or at least you look like it. Your husband passed away. Your quirk must stop you from aging, right? Because you don’t look older than 26 at most.”

There’s shifting in front of you, but your eyes refuse to look back ahead. Embarrassment burns in your cheeks and the fear of overstepping swirls within your gut.

“You should have stayed quiet,” the voice reprimands. “You’re so dumb, (Name).”

I was so dumb, why did I say that? She probably hates me now. She’s going to kick me out and I’m going to be stuck here forever and it won’t stop and—

“You’re more observant than you let on. But you also like to avoid confrontation, don’t you?” It’s not condescending or patronizing; it’s a factual statement— the truth. There’s no tone other than neutrality and genuinity. “That’s why you’re here today. A bit earlier than I expected you to come around, but you did nevertheless.”

Your lips purse. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She picks up the clipboard, flipping through some pages. “You weren’t completely honest about your past when we first began chatting, were you?”

The silence that lingers answers her question.

“Why not?”

You sigh. She smiles.

“I just . . . didn’t want to.”

“You’re not a burden, (Name),” her hand grabs the delicate pen and begins to trace unintelligible shapes onto the paper. “I understand why you closed yourself off. I read your file, you know. Spoke to Dynamight and Deku about you.”

You still.

What?

The knife of dread, fear, and panic slices it’s way into your heart, carefully tracing the outline of your aorta, atriums, and ventricles. The pointed tips glides over each ridge, caressing the soft tissue and flirting with the idea of piercing its way inside, only to send blood spurting everywhere and leave you cold inside out, once again.

She continues. “They both care for you a lot, in their own ways of course. Deku is much more vocal about his concern, but Dynamight is the silent, brooding type. He expresses his concern through his actions and behavior.”

She spoke to them? To him? Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?

Why didn’t Bakugou tell me?

“Yeah,” you breathe out, averting your eyes to the window outside. Your heart palpitates inside your chest. “That, uhm, really sounds like them.”

The sky is a bright blue today, with not a single cloud in sight. Buildings decorate the slopes of blue, with light shades of gray and dark shades of a hybrid of obsidian black and white.

“What a shame,” the voice pouts. “The view is obstructed. Wasn’t it just so lovely?”

The collar of your shirt is suddenly a tad bit too high, too tight, and suffocating. It clings to your throat, wrapping its fuzzy tendrils around the base, before slowly gliding across the expanse of your skin.

“Doesn’t it just remind you of those beautiful waters? The one near the cliffs, you know. Don’t you just want to go for a swim?” the voice purrs. “I, for one, think it sounds refreshing.”

The tentacles speed their movements, rushing their efforts to close their tendrils around your throat. The inky black swallows your throat, leaking into your lungs. Faster, they move. Tighter, they squeeze. Together, they suffocate you.

“It’s not fun when you’ve gone right back, y’know. Takes the fun out of your misery. Now, you’re all lifeless like a doll. You have no hero to save you. Just what will you do, (Name)?”

The sight in front of your eyes fades from a lovely sky and high rise buildings to a murky, endless bank of water screaming at you to fall below. Like a siren’s call, the kelp sings to you by teasingly waving its green body, luring you down below.

Sweat pools on your forehead, threatening to drip down your neck and onto your shirt. You can see it all now.

You remember it all now— vividly.

The beer. The cliff. The staff worker. The evening sky, the water, the spray of the salty sea, the stabs of the grass. The incessant nagging of the voice— the reminder of him, everything about him and how little you meant to him.

It all washes over you like a tide, overflowing with the means of drowning you to snap you back to reality.

“‘Wake up!’” it screams.

“—(Name)?”

Virdescent eyes bore into yours, pupils dilating as they continue to hold your gaze. The flecks of obsidian and rim of a deep, mysterious amethyst capture your attention.

The kelp twirls.

“(Name)?” A gentle, unnatural hand places itself upon your shoulder. The aroma of distilled rose water permeates your nostrils. “(Name), are you okay?”

The toxic green melts, burning through to reveal a set of pure, bright ruby red eyes.

The sky glimmers.

You blink.

She grins.

He doesn’t react.

You don’t know if that’s good or bad, really.

But the words continue to tumble.

“I— I loved him. That’s what hurts, Katsuki. I loved this man who returned an unobtainable love and I was too blind to see it.”

How foolish am I? How stupid do I have to be to not have seen this further?

“How stupid are you, (Name)?” the voice parrots.

It hurts. You’re tired. Everything is dark. The sky, the grass, your vision, your mind, your thoughts.

The stars in the sky are so faint, so dull. You miss their shine.

You miss the bright lens that were placed above your eyes, lighting up the sky.

Slowly, your world crumbled. Now, it was tumbling, shattering into millions of pieces.

Your chest tightens, and it feels as if you are back in the office, curled into a ball on the verge of suffocation.

You can remember the warm traces of tears spilling from your eyes, trickling down your cheeks. If you close your eyes, it feels as if you’re there, in those stuffy office clothes with the haphazardly thrown stacks of papers and splayed out tools, shattered pieces of glass, and a throbbing heart.

You’re dying. Lifeless. Hopeless.

I just want it all to end, please, please, please—

Warm hands snap you out of your thoughts. Large, calloused hands cup your face, tracing the dull tips of its fingers along the outline of your jaw, thumbs circling comfortingly under the bags of your eyes.

It’s cozy and loving, like warm cider on a chilly autumn day. Your heart pounds in your chest in excitement. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and an older, kinder voice whispers at you to simply open your eyes.

When you feel the tickling of hair against your head, your eyes flutter open. A warm head bumps against yours, resting itself in the very center of your forehead, as if it fit there. The remedial hands of warmth continue their trek of tracing the outline of your features, encapturing your face in their hold.

Boring into your eyes are Katsuki’s, in all their cherry red glory.

“Bakugou . . . ?”

A hint of doubt flickers across his features. The corners of his eyes crease, and the middle of his brows furrow.

“You’re a cruel monster, (Name).”

“Always hated when you called me that, y’know,” is all he replies with.

He’s close.

“Too close,” the voice reiterates.

Despite the warmth radiating from Katsuki, goosebumps erupt on your skin like a volcano’s molten lava bursting through the surface to cover the earth’s surface in its flames.

Is it from the cold?

“No,” a foreign voice answers.

Red eyes flit to your lips and a shaky exhale leaves your nose.

Is it anticipation?

“Yes,” it responds again.

“Lean in,” it goads. “Give in. Don’t hold back.”

“You’ll hurt him, just like you hurt yourself,” the voice chimes. Your heart plunges into your stomach

The quiet lull of the other voice drowns out the terrors of the voice. “Be his. Just for tonight, let him have you.”

“Okay,” you breathe. The doubt and hesistance leaves you.

He press his lips against yours.

The kiss is a warm caress, one that lets warmth blossom on your own. It’s soft but so sweet, so gooey like maple syrup dripping down your throat. A tinge of cinnamon bleeds into your mouth and the smell of caramel floods your nose.

You pull away first, but Bakugou’s hand keeps your head touching his, staring into the other’s eyes.

Am I going to hurt him? Is this fair to him? Am I using him?

“You’re a horrible person, (Name),” the voice says. You want to agree.

The foreign voice speaks up. “Listen, (Name). Stay quiet and listen, please.”

“I know you still love him.”

His voice breaks and you feel your heart follow.

No, I don’t. You want to answer.

“But how much of that is true?”

You’re not sure.

“I know how much he matters to you. Izuku matters to me too.”

You want to cry.

“But I won’t give up on you. I never have and never will. Not— not unles you want me to. I won’t chase you if you don’t want me to. But if you’re willing to have me, even just for a bit to let me love you whole, I’ll stay.”

“Katsuki,” your voice breaks. The tears flow. Calloused fingers rub off the tears.

“He may have been your first love, but I intend to be your last.”

You panic. “But what if it takes too long? What if I take too long to lose feelings and you have to try again to make me fall in love with you?”

A warmth envelops you. “As long as you want me, I’ll work as hard for as long as I have in this life to be your final love.”

The heat is familiar and gentle; it doesn’t set your skin aflame, but instead adds a slight increase with every second, adjusting you.

It’s accommodating and loving.

It feels like home.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It always was.”

I was just too blind to see it.

The new voice whispers, “He could never hold it against you; he would always forgive you. All he wants and needs is you. Remember what Mitsuki said? You’re his everything.”

And he is the same to me.

——————————-——————————————

Midoriya is kind.

“Are you sure that’s all you want to order?” A large, scarred hand settles itself upon your smaller one, rubbing the area of your wrist with slow, gentle strokes.

Midoriya is kind in the way that he would help an elderly lady cross the street with her hand wrapped around his arm, guiding her safely to the other side. He is kind that when a child cried in the middle of the sidewalk all alone, he would approach them with nothing but a gentle smile on his face and kneel down to their height, offering his help.

Midoriya Izuku is a good man with a big heart and a bright smile. He is the sickly saccharine type of person— a man who despite being made of hard muscle, is truly all marshmallow and gumdrops.

He is a glorious man who chose to devote his life to saving the world— but that in itself is what made him so utterly selfish.

“He loves you, (Name).” the soft voice whispers. “Do you know that?”

His love is not enough for me to stay any longer.

“I ordered a whole bowl of pasta, Midoriya. I think that’s more than enough,” you grin, sliding your arm out of his grasp. He pouts like a kicked puppy who was just scolded by their own for eating one too many dog treats.

Maybe long ago, your heart would have squeezed at the expression. Now, no butterflies erupt in your stomach. No heat spreads to your neck and to the tips of your cheeks. All that churns in your stomach is the acidic sips of a mocktail you had and the glass of water you downed before going to meet Midoriya.

“You know, you can still call me Izuku,” Midoriya begins, retracting his hand from your side of the table. You dig your fork into the pasta, swirling it around in the plate. “I’m still your Izuku, right?”

What am I supposed to say to that?

You peer up, watching as his emerald irises swim with a fondness and intimacy you could only picture thousands of women would die to see Izuku Midoriya, Japan’s greatest hero, to gaze at them with.

But to you, it is meaningless.

“Do you pity him?” the gentle voice asks. “Do you pity yourself for how blindly you behaved as him, too?”

In front of you, you hear a group of girls squeal, “Oh my gosh, it’s Pro-Hero Deku!”

A big bite of pasta with a pointed smile is all you offer Midoriya as he turns to face the approaching group of gals murmuring in excitement, asking to take photos.

At least the pasta is good.

——————————-——————————————

“Say it,” the voice utters.

The city lights at the ripe time of midnight are a beautiful sight, filling the world with a plethora of icy and earthy tones. Giggly couples stumble down the street, hand in hand, high off of joy and young love. Teenagers skate down the sidewalks, hollering profanities and excited cheers into the night sky.

The whole world is bright and alive around you, despite the pit of black surrounding it.

“Will you let this moment slip? After all you’ve gone through?”

Midoriya’s hand once again reaches for yours, scarred fingers entangling themselves with yours. The pupils in the greens of his eyes seem to shrink as your palms make contact, and a faint blush sprouts on his cheeks.

In the moonlight, Midoriya Izuku is alive.

He is glowing brightly in the light of the city, with his unruly mess of curls draping over the tops of his eyes.

But beside him, you stand in the darkness of his shadows. In the presence of the Symbol of Peace, Izuku Midoriya, you are nothing more than the spirit that he is championed to destroy.

Once again, you are nothing more than a lost soul falling into the hands of death.

“Is that all you will ever be? Will you let all of your hard work dwindle to waste? Will you fall back into his arms only to repeat this same miserable cycle?”

Tips of blurry blonde spikes materialize in the depths of your mind. The crashing of waves against rocks bleeds into your ears and the pricks of blades of grass send tingles exploding across your skin.

“How much will it take until you truly break, (Name)?”

A pair of loving carmine eyes stare back at you, a bright twinkle in the corners of its pupils. They are a reminder of the gentle kiss and the tender love you had experienced only days before.

‘I want you, Katsuki.’

He had cried, when he heard those words.

‘Please, will you let me love you the way you loved me?’

You never thought you could reduce a man as powerful as Bakugou into a mess of joyous tears. But life has a habit of surprising people in the most unexpected ways.

I’m sorry, Midoriya, you long to say. I’m sorry you are slipping down the path you forced me to tumble down. But I’ll save you in the way you failed to save me in before. I’ll right your wrongs.

Not for you, but for me.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your hand out of his grasp, stepping back. “I can’t do this to you, Midoriya.”

He jumps, startled by your abrupt movements. He opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt.

“I can’t live with you in my life— not anymore.”

“(Name), what? What are you saying right now?” Midoriya reaches his hand out to anchor you— or himself— but you widen the gap between you two.

“I’m talking about you— I’m talking about us,” you gasp. The waves slosh in the bottomless pit of the sea. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see it like everyone else did. You can’t lie to me and say what you did wasn’t purposeful!”

Boots smush into the wet mud, slipping off the bottom of your foot. “_____________!” Midoriya exclaims.

The beating of your heart smashes against your ribcage and blood rushes to your face. “You were given so many chances, Izuku,” you cry as the tears finally slip. The bottle fissures and the dam explodes; the beast is unleashed. “You gave up. You gave up on yourself, you gave up on me, you gave up on us. You always have— you always will. You never took a single chance because you never cared enough!”

There are tears streaming down his own face, distorting the sight of those freckles you once adored so much. You had once believed them to be kisses from the gods themselves. Now, they seemed nothing more than a painter’s deception of beauty.

Midoriya weeps. “________________!”

No longer do you crumble under the weight of Midoriya’s tears. You stand proudly under the pour of your own.

“You’re forgetting someone, aren’t you, (Name)?” the voice curls around you, peering at you gleefully. She giggles. “You should go and surprise him, (Name).”

Katsuki. Your heart shines, despite the pain of the tears.

You turn away from Midoriya, sparing nothing more than a turn if your head. “Thank you for giving me the story of a lifetime, but this is the end of us. Our chapter closes today, Izuku.”

Around you, the city blurs. “The story of us wasn’t meant to last a lifetime. It was meant to be for only a moment.“

And slowly, so does Midoriya. You laugh, “But it is one I’ll never forget.”

Stuffing your hands into your coat, you move away, preparing to cross the street. But you pause before your foot meets the pavement.

“Midoriya,” you murmur, glancing side-to-side as the cars fly by, before looking back at him.

He stares at you, petrified, as if you were a ghost of his past.

Maybe, you are.

Maybe, you have truly become another ghost in his world.

“Do you remember me?”

The Symbol of Peace stares at you like a deer in headlights, frozen and lost. For the first of many times, Izuku Midoriya is clueless.

A smile plays on your lips.

“Who knew you could bring the most powerful man to his knees?” she pinches your cheek affectionately.

Fractured excuses and phrases of rambles slip past his lips, sending circles spinning upon circles.

You know the truth.

So does he.

“Don’t think about it too hard, Izuku.”

As you step onto the street, the moonlight falls upon you, covering Midoriya in its pit of dark.

Finally, you burn brighter than the stars above.

——————————-——————————————

The clock reads 2:37 AM.

You remember this road and the corner where Bakugou caught your arm.

You remember running and running until you got to the convenience store, pouring liquor while sitting on the hill. Downing bottle after bottle, bleeding away into a pool of water.

You remember the lights flashing, the salty spray of sea against your skin.

But you don’t remember the feeling or the pain of your broken heart.

It’s all gone.

It’s over.

The memories remain, the sleepless nights, the sober-less dreams.

But the pain does not.

For the first time, it’s gone; the wound has healed. The rift in your heart has shut.

“Call him.”

Frozen fingers reach into the depths of your purse, unlatching the metal clip to reach your phone as you trek down the street. With a few swipes, you press the call button.

Two rings pass before you hear a click and a groggy, gruff voice. A warm grin plays upon your lips.

“Hi, Katsuki.”

You chatter into the night, walking with a pep in your step. Muffled groans can be heard on the other side.

The voice sighs wistfully, resting her head on your shoulder. “Young love,” she twirls her hair around her finger, lips curling into a pleased smile. “How romantic it is, to be so young and utterly in love.”

Unwrapping her limbs from yours, she slips away into the dark, melting into the shadows of the moon. The wisps of her hair fade into a glimmer that twinkles in the streams of light and her body blows away with the breeze of the night.

You check the time in your phone.

2:37 AM, the clock reads.

The edges of your eyes crinkle.

He knew.

——————————-——————————————

#© platrom, plot / writing / banners & headers. do not repost, reblogs are appreciated! please consider leaving a comment and a heart! <3

#izuku midoriya x reader #x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #deku x reader #bnha angst #bnha reader insert #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #midoriya x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #mha x reader #mha x female reader #bakugou fluff #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x you #deku x fem!reader #deku x you

[faulty-writes]

Alright, alright, I have this little crossover idea of sorts!

Trigun is an anime in the world of MHA, and reader is crushing on Vash the Stampede. Reader has the manga, the anime on Blu-ray, figures, a plush...

How would Izuku, Bakugou, and Mirio react to their crush having a thing for Vash, who is fictional? Would they possibly get jealous, wondering what it is about him they like so much? :3

[ I love this cross-over idea. Fuck yeah! You know, it's funny. I wrote a few headcanons between the BNHA boys and them having a plushie a long time ago. I think the reader being obsessed with a fictional character, Vash in this case, is awesome and quite relatable. I honestly have to say I'm in love with Vash from the 1998 animated series, he is just so cool and I'm also currently reading the manga which is just mind-blowing. ]

His words were stolen from him when he entered your room to see endless amounts of manga, plushies, and even figurines of Vash the Stampede. Although given his collection of All Might merchandise, he knew he couldn't judge. But he also couldn't stop himself from feeling the tiniest bit jealous.

"W-what is it about t-that guy that makes them a-admire him…so much?" He asked after successfully convincing you to allow him to borrow the Blu-ray Trigun Stampede series collection you had. He didn't understand why you liked the characteristics Vash displayed but nonetheless jotted them down in his notebook as he watched.

Unfortunately, the attempts to display the same characteristics he saw to capture your attention were unsuccessful, and honestly, he felt a little pathetic about trying to be someone he wasn't. Plus, the look on your face made him feel like a bigger idiot than he was.

"I d-don't know what I was thinking…" he whined, pressing his head against his desk. "Will they…l-like me like they do V-Vash?" It was pitiful to think he was jealous of a fictional character.

"Perhaps you are approaching the problem incorrectly," Tenya suggested. "While the feeling of affection can extend to…fictional aspects, I'm certain that Y/n is aware of reality and will look at you the way you desire as long as you remain yourself." He wasn't sure how much faith he put in Tenya's words but knew he was right. Comparing himself to Vash wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Accepting something was the hardest thing but given that he was once the quirkless boy who dreamed of being a hero, he would face this issue the same way. He could accept it but not for long. He'd prove he was better than Vash The Stampede and then maybe…just maybe you'd see him as your hero.

"Tch, reading a lame manga, huh!? How stupid!" He remembers those words from his middle school years, and how you would always huddle in the corner with a stupid smile as you read 'Trigun Maximum.' The thing that years later became your obsession.

"What the hell is all this shit!?" He demanded. "This is worse than that damn Deku's room!" You had shelves filled with manga, and Blu-rays, not to mention plushies of the same character scattered around. "You shouldn't be obsessed with fictional dumbasses that swing guns around! I'm the only badass here!" And he'd prove it.

His jaw clenched tighter and tighter whenever he was in class, hearing you go on and on about your love for Vash. How cool and handsome he is, how amazing he is in combat. Damn, he hated it. He would never admit he was jealous, but what made Vash better than him!?

"What do you mean I can't take these!?" he demanded after irrationally barging into your room and stealing your Trigun manga collection. Nevertheless, after a heated argument, he settled for reading it in your room. "What the hell is so damn great about this dumbass?" From what he could gather Vash was nothing but an outlaw with a gun.

He didn't think his jealousy would affect him just like he didn't think his feelings for you would sway him from his dream of becoming a hero. But he found himself being fueled by the hatred of your Vash The Stampede obsession. Because of this, he grew extremely cocky during training exercises. He even went as far as shouting that he was better than some stupid outlaw which you found...odd, to say the least.

It didn't take a genius to realize you were unimpressed by his attempts and criticism of your favorite character. Yet, as usual, he'd be damned if you continued to idolize someone else when he should be the one idolized by you. Whether you liked it or not, he'd be the object of your affection next.

"Heh, wow...you really like this guy." Of course, it was an obvious statement with all the Vash the Stampede plushies, and merchandise that littered your bed and shelves. He picked up one of the plushies, staring into its blue button eyes that reminded him of his own and a strange feeling made his stomach twist. Was he feeling insecure?

"Oh, is that Vash the Stampede?" Nejire asked, pointing to the plushie Mirio held. "Huh, wait you know about him!?" He exclaimed. "Yeah, I-" He grasped her shoulders before she could finish. "What do you like about him!?" He demanded, and although Nejire didn't have a solid answer she settled for Vash's bravery and caring for others.

While Mirio was happy that he shared some favorable characteristics with Vash the Stampede, he still struggled to think of how to get your attention while respecting your love for the fictional character. How could you view him as you did Vash? Of course, he could never tell you who you could and couldn't love, but gosh wouldn't it be amazing if you did love him?

"So, what do you think!?" Mirio demanded with a bright smile. He was dressed in a red trench coat and orange glasses, the key pieces of clothing Vash wore. "You like Vash, right? I sure look like him now, wouldn't you agree sunshine?" To see your eyes light up when you looked at him, even in the silly little cosplay he was wearing, meant the world to him.

He convinced you to hang out with him and took you to a special area resembling the setting where the Trigun show took place. It was part of a beach, with endless sand everywhere. He wanted to impress you while respecting your feelings, and maybe make you have feelings for him. Overall, your reaction was so-so.

Despite his jealousy, and his somewhat successful attempts at trying to sway your attention away from Vash the Stampede and onto him, he wanted you to be happy. "Heh, who knows, maybe I will be their Vash someday!" Until then, he'd just keep smiling.

#izuku x reader #mirio x reader #katsuki x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #togata x reader #izuku x y/n #mirio x y/n #midoriya x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x y/n #mirio x you #bakugo x you #katsuki x fem!reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #katsuki x male reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x male reader #bakugo x male reader #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x self insert #izuku x you #midoriya x you #faultywrites: izuku midoriya: headcanons: 24 #faulty writes: katsuki bakugou: 24 #faulty writes izuku midoriya 24

[katsuki069]

Werewolf!Izuku x Bunny!Reader

Little Thing I started like a month ago then lost motivation lol.

>1k words

Sent out into the forest hours prior, you were now searching for one of the last few ingredients the village healer had requested of you.

Your small pink nose twitched as you sniffed the air in search of some lavender. You knew it would be in the nearby area somewhere, based on how strong the scent was. Basket in hand you wandered deeper and deeper into the forest. Minutes later, you had found some lavender behind some bushes.

You stepped through the foliage, reaching for the lavender before you suddenly heard a snap. Quickly snatching the flower, you stuffed it in your basket as you turned around. From a short distance away, you saw bright, glowing, green eyes.

Holding your breath, you slowly backed up with your long ears pinned to your head in fear. You had been told that deep in the woods there were dangerous creatures that would hunt bunny-kin such as yourself, but you hadn’t thought you had gone that far in. The creature took long strides towards you, coming out of the shadows.

Once in the sunlight you saw what at first glance seemed to be a giant. But after looking for a moment longer you saw the large tail and the pointed ears that were turned in your direction. The being strode closer to you. Not knowing what it was going to do to you, you turned and ran. High-tailing it out of the area you went as fast as you could, making your way back to where you had come.

Hearing a loud growl, you turned to look behind you only to see that the beast was now chasing you, had you unintentionally started a hunt?! You looked forwards once more as you could see your village in the distance, you did your best to keep running but you were growing tired. However, it seemed the werewolf was not, he continued his pace and soon had pounced you to the ground with a snarl.

“Little bunny, don’t you know the forest is dangerous?” it growled in your ear. A shiver ran down your spine as you nodded. “Then why would you come?” he barked down at you. With a terrified stutter you answered, “I-I was getting s-some ingredients for the v-village.” It glared down at you before relenting, crouching back on its haunches and giving you room to breath. You looked up at the werewolf with a petrified gaze, he was absolutely massive.

“W-wolf.” was all you could say in your shock as he towered over you. His lips tilted up slightly as he chuckled. Your ears laid flat against your head as you looked up at the massive creature before you cleared your throat, “W-who are you?” you asked. He grinned down at you, “I’m Izuku, a wolf of the woods.” he answered. You sat up once you could feel your body again. “I’m Yin.” you replied, backing away slightly. Not liking the new distance, Izuku grunted  and pulled you back by the ankle, earning a yelp from you. With the close proximity you could smell him clear as day, this wolf was an Alpha.

He looked down at you with a tilted head, “Do you fear me?” he asked. Not wanting to lie, you slightly nodded your head. He released your ankle and brought his hand toward your face. You flinched away, fearing he was going to injure you. A small frown crossed his lips, but he continued to reach for you nonetheless. With a gentle touch, he pet your long ears and the fine fur that lined it. You silently gasped at the contact, finding it rather pleasant.

He looked down at you, “You’re a rather cute one, Yin.” he complimented. Your lips pressed into a line, not knowing what to say. You gave him a nod in silent thanks as his words replayed in your mind. Never had you heard someone say your name and sound so pleasant. Izuku lifts you from under your arms and looks at your small stature, his gaze thoughtful as he seemingly inspected you. Incapable of doing anything, you just hung there in his grasp.

Before you could ask what he was thinking he suddenly moved you so that you were under his arm as he got up. You squeaked in surprise, earning an ‘Awe-’ in reply from his fanged mouth. He began carrying you back into the woods, not paying mind to your occasional struggling in attempts of escape. “Put me down!” you yelled at him, however to his ears it sounded like a pathetic whine. He chuckles and looks down at you with a grin, “You’re perfect.” he comments, leaving you confused. “Perfect? Perfect for what?” you questioned him as you looked to where he was taking you.

He entered a large cave near the base of a mountain, hidden behind trees and vegetation. Walking inside, you blinked repeatedly to help your eyes adjust to the darkened area. Not seeing much, you were forced to trust the wolf, hoping you weren’t in danger. You felt the muscles in his arms shift before you felt something soft under you. You rubbed your small fists over your eyes and looked around with slightly better vision.

As you gazed upon the caves inside you saw pelts and furs hung on walls along with tools and other miscellaneous items strewn about. Then looking down, you saw you were surrounded by a ring of pelts and furs. Was this a nest?

Izuku plopped himself down behind you and wrapped his arms around you once he had pulled you into his lap. You looked up at him confused but then he finally answered your previous question. “Perfect mate.” You weren’t sure if he was intentionally answering your question or if he was speaking to himself, but you felt reassured knowing he didn’t intend to harm you. Relaxing into his strong chest, you felt your worries slip away for the moment as you drifted off into slumber.

#gn reader #reader insert #bnha #drabble #mha #mha x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya #werewolf #werewolf x reader #bunny reader #x reader #izuku midoriya #shitpost

[izukuwus]

Edible Arrangements 37

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Read on Ao3

A/N: someone remind me to revamp the tumblr formatting for literally all of these chapters both for consistency and so that the titles are actually a thing on tumblr rather than just ao3

Summary: Some pieces are picked up. Some are put back together. Some fall back apart.

Warnings: sad kitten :(

Word Count: 3700 words

This big house holds more empty space in it than space it holds.

Izuku has held onto it, all these years, out of love, out of respect. He has held onto it because he must. He has held onto it because of the memories it doesn't hold.

His mother never made a meal in this kitchen. Never stocked the freezer with emergency cookie dough in case someone had a bad day. Yagi's car never entered the driveway, and Yagi never paused at the door to kiss his mother and ask how her day went. When he showed up for the first time, he wondered if it was worse that they had never gotten the chance to make memories here. His childhood home had become a teenaged apartment had been thrown mercilessly back onto the market the day after he’d come to collect all the boxes, everything already packed for a move that never came.

This house had only ever been his, and then it had been his and yours, and now it didn’t feel like anyone’s. He’d rot in there for days if only Sbeve would let him, the silence settling thick around him like fog.

And then there had come the knock on the door, followed soon after by the door creaking open. He hadn’t bothered fixing it.

Part of him wants to imagine the footsteps belong to you. Wants to imagine you’re coming home, that he’d done something wrong and you’d remembered and you’re coming back to him.

And then he’s sick to his stomach with worry at the idea of you being here and knowing who he was when he inevitably died, and he hoped instead that it was his sire, returning after all these years to finally just kill him already. It’d be a fitting end for a monster who deserved to be alone.

Sbeve was meowing downstairs, getting closer. Whoever had entered this haunted house was following him further in—across the living room, up the stairs, down the hall. Footsteps stopped at his door, and a plaintive meow urged the intruder inside.

Maybe it really was you, come home.

The door creaked as it opened. Izuku nearly hisses as the light from the hall falls on his face. The sound that meets his ears is not your voice, worrying for him, nor even a gasp.

It’s a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, too long-suffering to match with its owner.

“You look horrible.”

He doesn’t reply. A single green eye is all that peeks out from among the blankets and mass of fluff atop his head, watching the silhouette stare at him from the doorway.

“You need to drink something.”

Izuku simply stares at him, hoping he’ll get the message. Besides, by now, he’s sluggish enough that movement is hardly an option. Maybe he’ll get to find out whether vampires hibernate soon. It’s science he’s doing, not depression. Really. He might even write it down.

Tenya strides across the room, flicking on the light as he goes. “This isn’t negotiable. Stay alive at least long enough for us to kill him, and then I can take the cat and you can do whatever you want.” He sets a blood bag carelessly on the bed, right in front of Izuku’s face. It sloshes with a warmth of life that has Izuku’s stomach somersaulting.

If vampires can get sick, he is sick, and the thought of drinking that… that stuff has it worsening by the moment.

“Drink it or I’ll make you. I’m not going to kill him alone.”

“You could.”

“You and I both know that if one person alone could kill him, he’d be dead already.”

He sighs. He turns his face away from the light.

“I hope you know that I’m not joking about forcing you to drink it.”

He grumbles in return.

There’s a pause where he thinks maybe Tenya is about to leave. Then, he’s being manhandled until his face is accessible, and dammit, he doesn’t have the strength left to do much more than yell about it until the blood bag is pierced onto his fangs. Tenya has him held down, unable to do anything but nearly drown in the blood now flooding his mouth until his assailant brings up a hand to help control the flow.

And shit, it’s good. He drinks like he’s spent days walking through the desert, and to be fair, he has been depriving himself, so the comparison isn’t completely outlandish. Sbeve has had him to sip off of; he has had no one.

Tenya squeezes the bag with some force, and sparks fly off Izuku in retaliation. He has to force himself to dial back his quirk before he breaks furniture, the ceiling, or bones as he chokes on the blood, and then, he’s sitting up and snatching the bag from Tenya.

“Fuck you,” he mutters.

Tenya merely rolls his eyes. “I’m not letting you decide to back out now that you’ve done the first part, and you’re not the only person who [name]’s forgotten. You’re going to pull yourself together long enough to kill this man, and then you can do whatever you want. In the meantime, I am not going to be the only person gathering information on him, and you’re going to get out of this house.”

“Since when were you in charge of me? I do what I want.”

“You don’t want to do anything right now. And in case me shoving a bag into your mouth wasn’t clear enough, I don’t care what you want. Do you want the Death Adder dead?”

“Of course I—“

“Then get the hell out of here and work for it. We need information, and you need to not rot in bed while I do all the work.”

He glares, but he doesn’t protest. Tenya wrinkles his nose. “The first thing you’re doing is finishing that blood and taking a shower.”

Izuku snorts. “What, going to force me to do that, too?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He has the unfortunate sense that Tenya will, in fact, manhandle him into the shower fully clothed if he must. Or, given the way the past few minutes has gone, he’s going to throw him out on the lawn and blast him with the garden hose. Best not to tempt it. “Whatever.” He throws his head back and finishes his meal. If he doesn’t have a choice, he supposes he’ll just have to force himself to keep moving.

~

from: [email protected]

Subject: Hakamada’s course

March 7th, 2051

Dr. Midoriya,

I hope this email finds you well. There has been an incident with one of the professors in your department. Dr. Hakamada has been hospitalized and will be receiving medical attention until further notice. I am unable to divulge further details at this time. Until his recovery, I am hoping that you will agree to take over his summer session courses. Please respond and let me know at your earliest convenience. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to call.

Regards,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor

~

Despite Tenya’s best efforts, Izuku spends his time wandering the house in a haze, although he does allow himself the luxuries of drinking, showering, and maybe even seeing the sunlight when he’s not worrying about his classes. The email certainly hasn’t helped matters—he can’t say for certain, but it does sound like his bastard sire may have been involved with it.

And yet, he needs to come up with an answer. And teaching classes in-person has never been his answer. And yet…

He doesn’t know what to do. He wanders the halls of his empty house, wondering when last he saw Sbeve was. Yesterday? Two days ago? The days pass in a blur. He can barely tell anyone what day it is at all—his only point of reference is that damned email.

“Sbeve?” he calls out into the halls. His voice is raw with disuse. Tenya’s the only one he’s spoken to in a while. “Where are you, buddy?”

No meow responds. A twinge of panic buds within him. Did Sbeve escape? Outdoor cats are already disastrous for the environment, let alone thirsty outdoor vampire cats who are somehow even better suited to killing than before, and it’s not like he’s gone out of his way to get his door fixed. Actually, he’s pretty sure it’s still just barely on the hinges.

So now, rather than wander aimlessly, he’s wandering with a purpose, listening out closely for the sound of his kitten.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds Sbeve. The relief doesn’t last long. There he is, sleeping curled against your bedroom door, which has remained closed since the day he enthralled you. He's stuck. Sbeve is sitting there, missing you, mournfully staring up at the closed door, and Izuku did this to him.

He's awful. He's so, so awful.

He did this. He got rid of you. You're safe now, he has to tell himself that. No matter what Hitoshi or any of the others tells him. Even Tenya supported his decision, so he has to be in the right here. Sbeve will just have to understand.

Still, as he sits there, crumpled on the carpet, crying (really crying) for the first time since you left (since he made you leave) Sbeve walks up to him. The kitten sits, and stares, and tilts his head. Then, he's crawling into Izuku's lap and curling up there with one tiny mew.

"Do you think I should try getting out of this place, too?" Izuku asks him.

Sbeve purrs in his lap, but doesn't lift his head. Izuku brings a hand up to gently pet him.

"Yeah. Maybe I should. Staying in here all day just reminds me of them."

That earns him another meow. Sbeve presses his head into Izuku's hand. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Maybe I should get the front door fixed, first."

Another meow, this time with a blank stare that reads, at least to Izuku, as: 'you think?'

He scoops up Sbeve, rolls his shoulders, and turns to look over the banister at the broken door. "Well, let's get to work, Sbeve. Think my summer semester students would like to meet you? Think you could handle meeting them without biting anyone?"

As Izuku parades him around on the search for his no-doubt dead cell phone, Sbeve lets out one final meow.

~

from: [email protected]

Subject: re: Hakamada's course

March 9th, 2051

Dr. Todoroki,

I'm sorry to hear about Dr. Hakamada! I'll gladly take over his summer semester courses. Please let me know if there's anything I can do to assist with the transition or if there's any files I can glance over to aid me in taking over his courses. I am, of course, curious to learn what happened to Dr. Hakamada, but I trust that that information will be divulged as it becomes necessary. Regardless, I can take over all needed courses while he recovers!

Regards,

Dr. Izuku Midoriya (he/him/his)

Department of Quirk Studies

University of Ossenfelder

~

"Where do you want me to put this?" Hitoshi asks.

"[name]'s stuff, right?" Mina shouts after him. "Back room's fine!"

Hitoshi sets down the box, and then they're both heading back out to gather more boxes. On the way down the stairs, Mina sighs. "Thank you for all your help, Hitoshi. You didn't have to come help us move."

"Nah, it's the least I can do. How're they doing?"

"At the main office with Tsuyu, signing stuff with the landlord and sorting out rent. Tsuyu and I are going to split their rent until they're back on their feet. ...Whenever that is."

The apartment had been a good investment. Mina, Tsuyu, and [name] had talked about it before, when the three of them had good jobs and were striking out of college dorms and all that. The only reason it hadn't worked out before had been [name]'s financial troubles, and with those only worsening now that Dr. Izuku Midoriya had come along to fuck up their life, the two who weren't catatonic had decided they'd just have to make it work. [name] couldn't sleep on Hitoshi's couch forever, after all.

The place itself was nice. Almost too nice, actually. It was right next to campus, with good parking, decent space, and no furnishings, which really meant no ugly furnishings to put up with for the next year.

"Well, they've been getting a lot better. I don't even have to brainwash them to get them to eat anymore."

"That's true. Thank you for all that, by the way. I don't know where we'd be without you."

"No, I'm just glad to help. Sucks that I can't do anything more."

She shakes her head as they arrive at the car. "You shouldn't have to. Honestly, you're already being a kickass friend just by being here. Better than someone I know."

He rolls his eyes. "Which over-financed vampire are you talking about?"

"Neito has an excuse. He's got some big family thing to deal with, and at least he's been helping. I don't think we could have found a place this good on our own. The other two, though? Don't get me started."

"Yeah. I get why Izuku's too cowardly to show his face, but Tenya?"

"He doesn't trust other vampires. I think because of what he did to [name]."

Another box, heaved onto the floor. Hitoshi places his own down, pausing to catch his breath. "How are you not out of breath right now?”

"What, because of the boxes? I dance. This is nothing."

"Yeah, but that's not exactly weight lifting!"

"No, but it is dancing."

"Great. Thanks for clearing that up."

"Anyways, I just hope that all of this helps. The crisis counseling and school psych and the aide and all that sound great, but... I don't know. I'm not sure anything can bring back the [name] we know except breaking the thrall those idiots put on them."

"No, but they're barely in a place for us to try it right now. At the very least, this keeps them moving a bit until they get to where we can break it."

She sighs. "Yeah... do you think this Ochako girl's going to be much help? I haven't met her yet."

"If nothing else, they'll be able to get back to taking classes."

Yeah. That was the goal. Preparing [name] for some bullshit professional life while they were only just regaining use of their arm and showing only the barest minimums of emotion on a good day.

"One summer semester's a good trial run, too. Give them the chance to ease back into being a real person."

"They're real now."

"You know what I mean. It's a victory if they eat when reminded to at this point."

"I know." She sighs. "I do."

The next trip up the stairs is taken in silence. At the top, they find [name] and Tsuyu, just opening the door.

"Hey, you two!" Mina greets, putting on her more usual cheery tone. "How was the office?"

[name] has a hint of confusion on their face. "Weird."

"Weird how? Did something happen?"

"Someone prepaid all of [name]'s rent for the next year," Tsuyu answers. "Apparently the landlord received a check from the university. The 'excessive hardship scholarship fund' for students facing undue hardship."

"Are my issues excessive...?" [name] mumbles softly.

"No, babe," Mina says. "But that's good! If nothing else, at least you get some financial compensation for everything."

"Um, yeah. I guess it is."

"And tomorrow, you get to meet with your aide for the summer semester! I've heard she's really nice. She should be great!"

"Yeah."

[name] brushes past her. In the absence of a couch for the time being, they find a spot on the floor and sit, fiddling with their cell phone. They haven't yet been cleared for things like unpacking, not with the state of their shoulder.

Mina tries not to sigh too audibly. "I really hope this works. I miss my best friend."

~

from: [email protected]

Subject: A message from the Chancellor

March 16th, 2051

Fellow Ravens,

I am deeply saddened to inform you about the loss of one of our faculty members, Dr. Tsunagu Hakamada of the Quirk Studies department.

Dr. Hakamada was an exceptional professor who took plenty of time to work closely with his students. Aside from the courses he taught, he was active in aiding students via the tutoring center in a number of subjects, and his passion for education took many of the students he mentored farther than they imagined. Dr. Hakamada also aided in the creation and perpetuation of the Consumer Apparel and Design course's semi-annual fashion show, as a mentor, sponsor, and friend.

Our thoughts rest with Dr. Hakamada's friends and family, those who cared for and loved him, and any Ravens touched by the loss of this bright mind.

Visitation for Dr. Hakamada will be held from 6:00-8:00 PM on Saturday, March 18th, at Respite Funeral Home, 48th Street. A memorial celebration will additionally take place at 5:30 PM Monday, March 19th, in front of the Kevin University Center.

The University of Ossenfelder Counseling Center is available to provide support to any students and other members of the campus community affected by the loss of Dr. Hakamada. The Dean of Students Office may also be a useful support resource for students and may be reached during office hours Monday through Friday.

If you are registered for any courses taught by Dr. Hakamada this semester or during the summer or fall sessions, your registration is still valid. Dr. Izuku Midoriya has graciously agreed to take over all of Dr. Hakamada's duties in the Quirk Studies department until further notice while a more permanent replacement is sought. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out to your academic advisor or department head via the student portal.

Sincerely,

Shouto Todoroki

Chancellor, University of Ossenfelder

~

Up until this exact moment, Izuku had reasoned that this was doable.

Dr. Hakamada's classes had been canceled for a short time, both to give the students a chance to recover and to give Izuku the chance to take over without missing a beat. Not that missing a beat wasn't inevitable—he wasn't exactly the on-campus professor type. In fact, he's pretty sure he looks more like a TA than a professor even on the best of days, although the haggard look he's been sporting lately might add some age to his countenance. When the classes had started up again, he'd done his best, and he's pretty sure he's even doing a good job! It's not that he doesn't know the information, after all. In fact, he's quite sure he could overtake the rest of the department in knowledge, given the chance! He's just not the lecturing type. Especially not when “take over the summer classes” turns into “take over all classes while maintaining your previous workload”.

So he pressed onward, he let himself be persuaded to move into Dr. Hakamada's office after his family collected his personal effects, and he did his best to help his new batch of students adjust to the loss of their professor while not letting his online courses fall too far behind. He already hadn't been sleeping, so not much had changed.

And, in his few moments of spare time, he'd found some information pointing to a cause for  Dr. Hakamada's death. Perfectly legally, of course. For sure.

All he'll reveal is that a mysterious set of bite marks had been found on him when he'd arrived at the hospital, and that he hadn't survived too long after being admitted.

He can't say with any certainty that it was the Death Adder. For one thing, his bastard sire is typically pretty good about killing them completely. It could be a result of Hakamada's quirk, or else the Death Adder made some kind of mistake. In any case, having been the heir to a long line of designers, he fit the usual line of victims perfectly, so Izuku was content to mark it as a sign the Death Adder was hanging out for a while.

That alone was a comfort and a curse. He could handle that soon.

But this?

The papers on his new desk in his new office glare up at him. Most of what he'd received had been standard paperwork. Things to help facilitate him taking over the courses. This particular folder, however, had not been that.

[full name] is the first thing he registers on the page. The rest of it comes in waves as he reads. List of accommodations. Student will have an aide for note-taking and emotional support purposes. A section for a list of triggers, followed only by the words "see attached", implying the list is too long to fit on the eight lines afforded to it. History of being targeted by violent attacks. Traumatic memory loss. Catatonia.

The more he reads it, the worse he feels. And yet, he can't stop reading it.

He had convinced himself that [name]'s friends had been overblowing the whole thing. That, given a day or two, they would be back to their old, perfect selves, and things would be fine, they just wouldn't remember him. He can't imagine that they let them take this course knowingly. No, registration would have been over a month ago. [name] had registered for Dr. Hakamada's course, and now, here he was, taking it over. He hopes, sincerely hopes, that their friends read the email and saw he'd be taking over, that they pushed to get them reassigned to some other course section. Obviously, he can't do anything about this. How would that look? Sorry, Dean of Students, I'm rejecting this student from my course because they are simply not the right fit. No, it has nothing to do with the fact that they're physically disabled due to recovering from a stabbing and emotionally shattered for reasons unknown.

At the end of the page, more words flash up at him in bits and pieces.

Please contact student through aide, Ochako Uraraka, at (xxx) xxx-xxxx to set up meetings prior to summer semester.

God. How is he ever supposed to do this?

~

Izuku to [name] Protection Squad at 10:53 AM

Izuku: you were right.

Izuku was removed from group [name] Protection Squad.

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[mysicklove]

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

DAY 1 : PET PLAY

With: Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou

Word Count: 5.0k

Warnings: sub! izuku and katsuki, gn! reader, collars/leashes, dog ears, reader forces katsuki to bark, reader is purposefully mean to izuku, mlm (they are forced to makeout), hand jobs, slight orgasm control, tons of sappy nicknames

A/N: hi guys!! welcome to day 1!! fun fact, this randomly got posted in the middle of the night some random day in september. fuck tumblr que, idk what happened. but here we are LOL

You'll never get used to it. Having two pro-heros as your dogs. Kneeling at your feet, only in their boxers, silently waiting for their owners command. It was a dopamine rush every time the three of you went into this headspace.

They both had on their designated personally designed collars. The sweet one had a red leather one, that complimented his pleading green eyes perfectly. The brat wore a light pink sparkly collar. He had fumed the first time he saw it, yelling at you to fuck off and refusing to put it on. But after you put a muzzle on him the rest of the night, he shut his mouth. He still gets pissed when you clip it on him, but instead grumbles to himself, not wanting to risk the horrible metal muzzle. Besides, he knows you only do it to get a rise out of him. So on most nights you gave him his usual black spiked collar. Obviously tonight you were feeling more teasing.

The muzzle and a gag lay next to you in case either of them decide to act out. Izuku of course wouldnt ever dare to purposely disobey in this mental state. But he had a huge problem of talking. Dogs arent supposed to talk, so next to you lays a cartoon bone shaped gag, waiting to be put into Izukus mouth. 

Tonight the two of them were leashed together, a pretty but simple black leash divided into two different clips. Their section was small, so the two of them were forced to sit shoulder to shoulder with one another to prevent pulling at the leather. 

They also wore their puppy ear headbands, just because you were feeling special today. Izuku has green floppy ears, and Katsuki, blonde pointy ones. You also had tails designed for them, but that would involve some…prepping. So the collars, ears, and leash were enough for today.

You sit on the bed, crossed legs, with you wrapped around the end of the leash. You give it a hesitant tug and the two of them collapse forward, Izuku with a small whine and Katsuki with a glare, immediately bringing himself back onto his knees, pulling Izuku with him.

You reach forward to pat the both of them on the head. Izuku preens, looking down with clenched fist and a blushing smile. Katsuki looks away with a huff, but you know thats the best you'll get out of him. 

“Look at my boys,” You coo, “You guys are so precious.” You gently pull the leash upward so that the two of them are forced to look up at you.

Izuku beams at you, feeling himself buzz from the praise. “Thank you, Y/N! I want to be good for you today! Even Kacchan says he does too–” You give him a sickly sweet smile, nodding your head and humming at him. He is completely unaware of you trailing your hand toward the gag, waiting for him to finish his rambling so you can shove it on him. 

Katsuki’s eyes flicker to your hands immediately and his eyes widen. It doesn't take much for him to realize his situation. The two of them are tied together. That definitely means something, and Izuku hasn't seemed to realize it yet. 

The two of them were in this together. If Izuku gets punished, the chances of the metal muzzle coming on are high. “We will be your good-”

Katsuki flings his hand over the others mouth, the force of it pushing Izuku over. The blonde topples forward with him, from the short binding leather. Izuku lands on his back and Katsuki lands on top of him with a groan.

You laugh hysterically and the boys both flush in embarrassment, making eye contact with eachother. Katsuki quickly pulls himself up and Izuku is forced to follow – not that he minded. They sit back on their knees both red in the face, looking at the ground, too embarrassed to look at eachother. 

You pat the blondes hair, and he gulps. “Good boy, Katsuki! Poor Izu almost got gagged, that would be too bad, right puppy?” You smile, turning your gaze to the freckled boy who is nodding his head frantically, hating the gag as much as Katsuki hates the muzzle. It makes his jaw hurt, and the drool is humiliating.

You continue to run your fingers through Katsukis hair as a reward and he unconscioully leans into the touch, still unused to the praise. “I guess we don't need a muzzle today either!” Red eyes widen and he tries not to seem to excited at the thought. He gulps, and looks away, clenching at the thin fabric that fails to cover his leaking cock. You chuckle at him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his temple. Izukus eyes flicker to you, clutching his fist to hide his obvious jealousy of the affection.

“What should I do with the two of you?” You hum, admiring the leash in your hand. The boys gulp, and Izuku wants nothing more than to speak, so he bites his tongue to keep himself silent. Katsuki grows weary, wondering what type of mood you were in today.

“Should I make the two of you fuck eachother?” Izuku whines, leaning forward to rest his head on your knee, to wordlessly show his disapproval. You chuckle and bring your hand to his curly green hair, and notice that Katsuki is scowling at you, having the same view. 

You know they prefer it when you are involved. They always complain its not as fun without you, and besides who would give them orders? What will two dogs do without a owner to command them?

“Alright, I've got an idea.” They peer up at you, Izuku still in your lap. “We are going to do some training!” They both flinch, eyes flickering to each other in a silent agreement. This will most likely be something not so pleasant. “I was thinking we try some obedience exercises? C'mere get on the bed you two.”

Katsuki begins to stand and you yank the leash forward, causing the both of them to fall over, foreheads resting next to the carpet. “I don't remember dogs standing.” The blonde fumes, trying not to yell at you. He hates being dragged around.

Izuku paws at the edge of the bed, glancing back at Katsuki to follow. He rolls his eyes with a grumble, but follows behind, on his hands and knees as well. Izuku sits so close to you, that he is practically in your lap. He seems to be vibrating with excitement, hoping you will be kind to him today. You rub his cheek, and he beams for you, nuzzling into your hand.

Katsuki, dramatically, sits as far away as he can, which isnt far due to the leash attached to Izuku. You smile at him at he gulps. “C'mere Kats,” You say, patting your lap.

He nods hesitantly, and climbs into your lap, looking away when you kiss his cheek. Izuku lets out a small whine and rests his hand on your thigh, obviously jealous of the positioning. “We are gonna play a little game.” Red eyes catch yours. “I am going to give out an order and the both of you are to follow them. Easy right?” 

Katsuki pauses for a second. Following commands was what he struggled with the most. His pride always got the better of him. He gulps, but nods.

Izuku on the other hand, is nodding his head with a grin. This was easy for him, and he was always happy to please you. Just a couple of orders and then you will get to touch him. He could do that with his eyes closed. 

“Good boys! Now paw.” You set the leash down and hold out both of your hands flat. Izuku rests his hand in yours in an instant, leaning in closer to hopefully get praised. Katsuki glances at you, and then the hand, and silently places his open hand on yours. He looks away while doing it, slightly embarrassed. 

“Good job Katsuki!” You praise, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. He grumbles under his breath, but the tips of his ears go pink. Izuku leans forward and waits for you to kiss his own cheek, but you don't make an effort to look at him. He whines for it, and you glance at him, a malicious smile on your face. “Dont be spoiled Izuku,” You coo, pickingup the leash and gently pulling on it, causing the both of them to lean closer.

Izuku slightly pouts, but nods. Katsuki feels uneasy; Izuku always gets praised. Something was going on. 

“Alright. Now kiss.” In an instant Izuku is pouncing on the other, and Katsuki topples over at the force of the movement. He lets out an annoyed groan when Izuku's lips lock desperately with his. Izuku on the other hand is moaning into it, slightly dramaticizing the sound to hopefully coax something out of you. 

You sit and watch, trying to not laugh at how different the two are in this situation. Izuku seems to be suffocating Katsuki with his tongue, while the blonde is pushing on his chest to force him off. “Alright, enough,” You command, and just like that, Izuku is pulling away, grabbing Katsuki by his collar, and pulling him up with him.

Izuku this time crawls into your lap, practically purring from how content he feels in the position. But to his dismay, you shoo him off, pushing at his chest with a stern glare. “Did I say you can sit there, dog?”

He gulps, hands trembling, and surprised at your tone. Not only that, but you called him, dog. Not puppy, or sweet boy, his usual nicknames that you give him. Did he do something bad?

Katsuki glances at him, kinda feeling a bit bad for him, but not bad enough to say anything. He feels your hand grab at his collar, and force him forward until he is in your lap again, your hand petting his hair. He peesr back at Izuku who was dragged forward, and looking up at Katsuki with hurt eyes. Jealousy, most likely, and maybe confusion of why the blonde gets to sit there and not him. 

“Speak, Puppy,” You demand, tapping on Katsukis jaw. 

Izuku makes a frantic woofing noise, loud enough that your eyes trail to him. The scarred hand is back on your thigh, and big green eyes peer up at you. Your facial expression doesn't change, but your words cut him like ice. “I didn't ask you to bark, mutt.” You turn back to Katsuki, ignoring the pleading stare from your right. “Speak, Katsuki.”

Bakugou pauses, his face flushed in embarrassment. This is where things got tricky. He would rather die than do something so humiliating. It was one thing to put the ears on and “look” like a dog, but to act like one is some sort of degrading thing. His pride would never let him do something as pathetic as that.

He scowls at his hands, avoiding the burning gaze on the back of his neck. You hum at him, grabbing his chin, and forcing him to look at you. “Katsukiiii,” You purr, hoping to encourage him. 

He shakes his head, huffing out, and ignoring your words. The force of your hands on his jaw gets rougher, and the blonde knows you are beginning to lose patience. He can see Izuku begin to squirm uncomfortably, waiting for him.

Your eyes peer into his, and your words come out slow, every syllable seeming to have a command behind it. “C’mon puppy,” You murmur, “bark for me.”

A couple seconds go by and he doesn't make a noise. You sigh and let go of his chin. “Well, I guess nobody gets to cum tonight. How sad, I was so excited to play with you guys.” 

Izuku grabs onto Katsuki frantically, eyes wide and pleading. He has been waiting for this all week, no way was he willing to give it up for his childhood friend's pride. They were being treated like dogs for god sake, the first step was giving up your ego for pleasure.

The blonde glares at Izuku, but then glances at you, who is beginning to reach forward and take off his collar. You were being serious, and that fact sent shivers down his spine.

“W-Woof?” 

It's quiet, meek and nervous. Izuku covers his mouth to hold back a giggle, watching the other turn a bright shade of pink. “Louder,” You encourage, resting your head in the palm of your hand, growing more and more entertained by the second.

“Woof. Woof,” He tries, but it sounds more robotic, than dog like. He grips at his boxers, and can feel tears of humiliation prick at his eyes. 

“Relax, Kats. What do dogs sound like?” You whisper, petting his head, and trying to hold back a coo, because of how tense he looks.

Izuku inches forward to the blonde, nodding at him when the two make eye contact. Katsuki gulps, and takes a deep breath. “Arf! Woof! Woof! Ruff?” 

You begin to laugh, and Katsuki wants to curl up in a ball and die. He feels Izuku's hand on hisback, patting it encouragingly, but he doesn't have enough energy to bite back at him. So he lets the green haired boy continue, waiting for your giggling to stop.

You pull at the leash, and the two come forward, looking at you. You dont spare Izuku a glance, focusing solely on Katsuki. “Good boy! You did so well for me!” You praise, giving him a peck on his mouth and ruffling his hair affectionately.

He tries not to let the praise get to him, but the tint of his cheeks say otherwise. “F-Fuck you,” Katsuki mumbles, gripping at your thigh. 

Izuku's eyes widen at the spoken words, and his eyes immediately flicker to the gag and muzzle. He also grabs onto your leg, hoping you wont use them. “Ah ah ah,” You tutt, “You know puppies dont speak. I'll forgive it just this once since you are doing so good for me.”

He nods, trying not to roll his eyes. “Now, lets get to the fun stuff. Katsuki definitely deserves a reward for passing his training! Right, Izuku?”

Whenever this is going, Izuku seems to not be involved. He gives you a sheepish glance, clinging closer to you. He was listening to, why isn't he getting a reward? And it didn't make sense, why were you calling him a mutt and dog, just previous to this. Katsuki was the one to get the harsh treatment by you due to his bratty nature, but Izuku didn't do anything wrong.

Red eyes meet green, and Izuku pauses. Then he sighs, and turns to you, nodding meekly. You barely look at him, but smile. “Now, lets get these off of you sweet boy,” You murmur, grabbing onto his boxers and beginning to pull them down. Katsukis eyes slightly widen, but he allows you to, jumping when the cool air kisses his skin.

Izuku stares from the spot behind the two. Watching the way Bakugou's boxers get tossed aside, and how your hand moves onto his thigh. But the only thought that was repeating in his head, was the name you called him. Sweet boy.

It was his. You have never called Katsuki that, because Katsuki isn't sweet. He isn't the docile and obedient one, the sweet one. Why are you calling Katsuki by his named? It didn't make any sense, and Izuku felt himself bite the inside of his cheek.

“Cmon, show Izuku your pretty cock, Katsuki,” You tease, turning him around in your lap, so that his back is touching your chest. The two of them make eye contact, and Katsuki is the first to fume red, hiding his face into your neck while his cock stands proudly on display. Izuku whines, feeling his own pulse against the thin fabric of his briefs. 

Your hands travel to Katsukis dick, forming a makeshift hole, and beginning to stroke it up and down. “Lets test how trained you are Izuku.” He perks up at his name, practically vibrating that you finally acknowledged him. “No touching yourself till Katsuki cums. Easy right?” He pauses, frowning slightly. This is what he struggled with the most. How needy he gets.

It's not his fault, but the second he gets into bed with you or Katsuki, he just gets…excited. Constantly thinking about how quickly he can cum, and how many times he can go without falling asleep. His sex drive was high, although he gets too embarrassed to admit it. But you know him well enough by now.

“If you don't, the two of you dont get to cum for two weeks.”

Two pairs of eyes snap toward you in an instant. A threat like that would practically kill Izuku, and Katsuki also was not in favor of waiting that long. The two of them make a silent agreement, and Izuku slowly places his hands behind his back, clasping them together and waiting. If they dont stray from this position, it will be fine.

You grin at him, but then focus your attention on Katsuki. You open his thighs, slapping him gently when he tries to close them from embarrassment, to give Izuku a full view. One of your hand finds his nipples, and the other wraps around his cock.

Izuku stares at your slow, sensual movements. The way your hand pumps Bakugou, and the way the blonde lets out a shaky breath. He is still tense under Izuku's view, but Izuku assumed he would be. Katsuki got nervous being watched, and you liked to exploit that. You always teased him about how cute he was, even when the blonde scowled at you with a pink face.

Even now, Katsuki seemed to have a pinched brow. He glances at Midoriya, baring his teeth slightly, and then looking away. He probably didn't like how vulnerable he was right now. The only one naked, and getting touched. 

Izuku would kill to be in his position.

“There you go. Feeling better now, puppy?” You coo, pressing light kisses onto his neck. He seems to melt at the sweet words, hating how easy it was you to make his heartbeat to pick up. He nods slightly, and finally falls slump against your chest, trying his best to ignore Izuku's ruthless stare.

Your hand rubs over the head, thumbing at the slit, and then moves back down to pump him some more. Your other hand cups his balls, and begins to fondle them gently. His breath begins to pick up from the intense feelings, and his hips begin to rock into your hand. Katsuki’s eyes fall shut, and he rests the back of his head on your shoulder, slightiy tilting his head upward.

And as Katsuki finally begins to relax, Izuku finds himself growing uneasy. He gulps, and glances at his briefs, sighing when he sees the dampening spot from where his cock lay. He was too hard, and the boxers were making him uncomfortable. He wants them off.

But he is not willing to risk it. So he plays with his hands behind his back, and shutters whenever he hears Katsuki moan out. He inches closer to the two of you, just until his knee touches the blondes upper leg.

A drop of pre leaks from the blondes tip, and both Izuku and Katsuki make a noise. Katsuki a groan, and Izuku, a pained whine. He was unbelievably jealous, and every cell in his body screamed at him to touch himself. Make the pain go away. Bakugou gets to feel good, why cant he?

“F-Fuckkkk,” Katsuki groans out, and you laugh, and then tilt his head to to the side, and press your lips onto his. Izuku makes a choked yelp, eyes widening and hands coming undone to grip at your shirt. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair. His cock was weeping by now, begging for any sort of touch, and it hurt.

But you didn't care, and the sloppy noises of you are Bakugou's lips together made him let out a shaky, hurt breath. Katsuki grabs onto the back of your neck, pulling your closer, and opening his mouth to slip his tongue in yours. The hand hasn't stopped its motions and Izuku can hear the slight whimpers the blonde unconsciously lets out. The whimpers that go straight to his trapped dick.

Izuku glances at you, and then his black briefs. You weren't looking, obviously very much distracted with Katsuki, and he could easily touch himself without you knowing. Just a graze of his palm, thats all he needed. Something to ease the intense discomfort. His hand inches from hid thigh, and closer to his cock.

But you seemed to read his mind, pulling away slightly, and peering back at him. Katsuki is panting, and moaning into your neck, while your eyes glance at the scarred hand. “Whatcha doing, mutt? Can't go a couple minutes without touching yourself? You are acting more like a bitch in heat, than a puppy. Isn't that right, Kats?”

Katsuki doesn't really seemed to care, just nodding slightly and bucking his hips into your closed palm. He was only thinking about his own pleasure, but he agrees anyways with a low groan.

Izukus eyes widen and he pulls his hand away in an instant, tears welling up from frustration and your words. He shakes his hand frantically, leaning in closer to hopefully convey how desperate he was. He didn't touch himself; he listened to you.

“No. Keep your hand there, dog,” You scold, and Izuku nods quickly, scrambling to place his hand back onto his thigh. Inches away from his dick. 

You nod, and then suddenly, without letting either of the boys know, push Katsuki onto Izuku. Not hard, just enough for the blonde to balance either arms on Izuku's shoulders. His frame casts a shadow on the freckled boy, and he looks up to see Katsukis flushed appearance staring down at him. His ruby eyes are widen slightly in shock, but his mouth is open, and he is panting.

But the worst thing about it all, was that Katsuki's bare cock was meerly inches from his. Your hand remains wrapped around it, and once situated, begins to pump again. It sends Katsuki groaning, and resting his head on Izuku's neck.

Izuku's hand twitches, and he bucks his hips up into the air, just centimeters from touching Katsuki. He feels a drop of pre hit his thigh, and he whimpers, closing his eyes to pretend it doesn't exist. It's not fair. Its not fair. Its not fair.

“Open your eyes Izuku. Look at how pretty Katsuki looks.”

He shakily nods, and tears begin to drip down his face. This was mean. Jacking Katsuki off basically inches away from his own throbbing cock. Izuku didnt deserve this. He knows he didnt deserve this.

He feels Katsukis hot breath on his neck, and he shivers. Green eyes dont leave the lewd sight in front of him, and he feels like he is going insane. His hands begins inches his way toward his bulge, and he gulps, shivering when it comes closer and closer to the spot that will make all the pain go away.

Katsuki, takes notice to this quickly, and pins the hand to his thigh before he could reach it. “Dont you fucking dare,” he hisses into Izukus ear, quite enough so that you dont hear. Red eyes glare up at him, and Izuku looks away.

He feels angry at Katsuki’s words. How mean he was being, when he was getting all the praise and touch. They are supposed to share you, how was this fair? “You don't understand what I'm going through,” Izuku mumbles back, his tearful eyes glaring at him.

“I fucking–” You cover his mouth before he could say anything. Katsukis lidded eyes sneer at him, but they seem to roll back when you thumb at his tip.

“Are you two fighting?” You question, gently squeezing the head a little too hard in warning. Katsuki lets out a whimper, and the both shake their heads frantically, slightly panicked on what you would do if you found out.

You hum, and continue your movements. The blonde sighs out, and you release your hold on his mouth. But, his hand continues to stay on top of Izuku’s, not letting him move.

Midoriya's hand twitches from beneath his, and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels your hand on his leg. His eyes widen, and he shivers under the lightness of your touch. It barely grazes the surface, and it sends a lightly ticklish feeling up his spine. It was moving closer to his bulge, an obvious tease, and Izuku feels himself begin to pant. He wants to touch himself so badly. Tears continue to fall down, and he screws his eyes shut with a sniffle.

Katsuki on the other hand, seems to be in heaven. He has a slight grin on his face, and he's moaning out with every stroke. He is approaching his high in a matter of seconds. You take notice to the way his body begins to jerk, and the slight higher pitch in his moans. “Do you want to cum, Katsuki?”

He nods his head slowly, breathing into the crook of Izuku's neck, while the other trembles. “Then beg.”

He sighs, but then immediately begins his frantic words. “I need–” You send a slap to his thigh, and he yelps, turning back to you and scowling.

“Don't be a brat. Beg like a dog,” You scold, tone fierce toward him for the first time tonight. It surprises him, and your eyes travel down toward the leash, threatening to grab it if he doesn't abide.

But Bakugou was already at his limits. He was going to cum any minute now, so he doesn't care about his pride any longer. Tears begin to coat his own eyes, and he flushes with embarrassment. “Woof! Arf! Arf! Woof!! P-Please!”

A tear drop lands on Izuku's face, and his whole body tenses. Katsuki looked…so pretty like this. He needs to readjust his pants, he needs to take off some of the weight. He feels tight, sticky from the amount of pre trapped in the fabric with him. And the noises Katsuki is making, makes his head spin, and sweat bead at his temples.

“Of course Katsuki, good puppy, you can cum all you want.”

You grab onto his cock, and give it a couple more pumps, before directing it toward Izuku's crotch. Within seconds of your premission, Bakugou buries his teeth into Izuku's neck, and moans. Its loud, but muffled by the skin. His whole body trembles, and cum flies out and lands on top of Izuku’s boxers.

Midoriya heaves, eyes widening as he watches Katsuki. He shivers at the feeling of teeth in his neck, and holds back a cry. He feels a dampening feeling land on his clothed cock, and doesnt have to do much guessing what it is.

He glances at the pool of cum stuck on his boxers, and then back to you, and finally breaks down and sobs. “Please touch me! Woof! Woof! I cant–Arf! I'm going insane, owner, owner please please please!” He rambles, voice raw from his cries.. He continues to bark, mewl, make any sound to voice his desperation.

Katsuki comes down from his high when Izuku starts hiccuping. His mind is blank, but the sounds Izuku was making was pitiful, and it bugged him. He glances at you, and you nod. He slowly pulls away from the boy, and sits down next to him. He is exhausted, but very much content, basking in the post orgasm glow.

Then, you move toward Izuku, kissing his cheek while he sobs and pinches the skin of his thighs, probably trying to stop the urge from touching himself. You pet his head, stroking the fake ears, and run your finger under his collar. Then, you grab his hands and pull them away before he could hurt himself. He peers up at you, and sniffles, using the back of his hand to wipe the tears. “Did so well, sweet boy. I'm sorry, that was mean of me wasnt it? Do you want to cum?”

He lets out a meek, “Woof,” and cries into your neck, every part of his body shaking. He nods, and tears begin to stain your shirt. Even through it all, he played the role till the very end.

Your hand travels to the bulge, and he doesn't even get a moment to process it before he is cumming. His body shakes with tremors and he screams into your neck. Katsuki watches with wide eyes as Izuku stains his pants.

It's like you knew this was going to happen. You play with his hair and coo at him, and then turn to motion Katsuki forward. He stares at the trembling boy, but abides, resting his hands on your thigh. Izuku slumps onto you, hiccuping from his sobs, but finally looking content. He buries his face into your neck, practically wagging his tail.

You pat the both of them on the head. “Good job, my adorable little puppies. Now was that so hard?”

They both look up at you, and give you the most pathetic but meaningful glare two dogs could give you.

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#mello.writes #Barkforme! #Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #gn reader #x reader #reader insert #katsuki smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader smut #sub bakugou #sub katsuki #izuku x reader #izuku smut #deku smut #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoriya x reader

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Smitten to the stars (ch.3/3)

pairing: (adult) midoriya izuku/female reader summary: If merely having you in his life means enduring heartache and concealing his true feelings, then so be it. At least, that's Izuku's grand plan until life forces him into the one thing he dreads the most—confessing. word count: 7.6k chapter contains (check ao3 for all tags): food, smut (public sex -> beach, really light bondage because Black Whip, hickeys, hint of overstimulation, vaginal fingering), short talk of unprotected sex, mentions of harassment which includes one mention of stalking+death threats (no details are given) • ao3 link ch. 1 • ch.2 a/n: written in Izuku's pov

Preview

“Bye-bye, Milky Way?”

“Bye-bye, Milky Way.”

Izuku groaned dramatically, lowering his head into the crook of your neck, the hand on your waist sliding to your back to pull you into his arms. “Promise you’re coming with me if I’m being sent into outer space?"

“I’m not leaving Earth,” you tried to refuse, but he nipped at your skin. “Okay, fine, I promise! You and me and one interstellar journey. What could go wrong…I mean, sounds good, right?”

“Nothing would go wrong,” Izuku replied, his tone light but with an obvious hint of uncertainty. As you snickered at the improbability of that statement, he relented to the truth with his own laughter. “Everything would probably go wrong, but we’d figure it out.”

“Not if we get sucked into a black hole.”

He lifted his head. “Where’s your optimism, love?”

#no use of y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #reader insert #mha fic #mha x reader #female reader #dee's: smitten to the stars #deku smut #mha smut #bnha smut #izuku smut

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Becoming Big Brother (Izuku Edition)

Because this idea has been wormin' it's way through my mind lately

Oh boy oh boy is Izuku excited! The complete opposite reaction of Katsuki's.

Mama Inko tells him after his father's last visit that she was pregnant. It felt like he was getting a present! A sibling to fill the empty spot that Papa Hisashi left.

Once you're born, the Midoriya family is complete.

The three of you become a tight knit trio.

Izuku is a great help and takes his role as big brother seriously. He teaches you all about All Might even as you stare blankly at him with big, dark eyes.

Inko originally planned to have your crib in her room, but Izuku told her it was okay. He didn't mind sharing his room with his sister

Forgets how small he still is when he tries to attend to your fussing at night. When he realized he wasn't strong enough to safely get you out, Izuku climbs over and curls up next to you in the crib

He'll coo softly things about his favorite hero to get you to quiet down. It becomes your favorite lullaby.

"When will she start talking?" "Do you think she'll walk any time soon?" "Why is it taking her so long to grow?" The questions were incessant. Inko was patient, happy that her son was a doting brother.

However, he doesn't like it when you take his crayons and put them in your drooly mouth.

After school, Inko would bundle you up and bring you along when she went to pick Izuku up at the local preschool. Izuku would always tell his friends and teachers "That's my baby sister!" "Isn't she cute?"

He nearly starts to sob when you take your first steps. How you coast along the couch, gripping the cushions for support with your small fingers. Your other hand reaches out toward the tv. Toward All Might.

Helps you get through the dreaded teething pains as new teeth break through your gums.

Inko watches with a warm heart as Izuku offers you a frozen peach slice that always comfort you during your teething. Your's and Izuku's futures looked like they would be a beautiful one. She felt lucky that both of her children will look after one another. No doubt once you get older you'll want to care for Izuku too

#reader insert fanfiction #reader insert #mha izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #bnha izuku #mha izuku #izuku mydoria #deku midoriya #mha x reader #mha #mha deku #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia headcanons #my hero academia hcs #my hero academia hc #mha hcs #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #bnha hcs #mha headcanons #bnha fanfic #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #my hero academia reader insert #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic

[sweet-honey-tears]

🩹Please Be Okay🩼

There’s a mix of both head cannons and a bit of stories. I hope you enjoy it and it’s not too confusing!

Thank you so much for this lovely person for giving me this idea! I had a lot of fun with it! If y’all have any others, please leave them and I hope you enjoy!🤍🤍 this is probably one of my favorite things I’ve written!

PLEASE READ

Warning: Description of wounds, blood, burns, broken ribs, mention of death, disturbing topics, characters are AGED UP, Angst with a happy ending.

○ Dabi ○

Dabi should have figured nothing would be simple, especially with the League. ‘Just a simple-‘ yeah no that’s not how it EVER goes.

Your quirk was similar to Togas in a way, mostly with vocal changes. You were able to lure people in with your song. They called it Siren. It left your throat raw and cracky but it was worth it. To say the least, your quirk relied on you being able to throat.

“ So you have two sets of vocal cords! Can I try!?” You were patient with Toga, and with everyone. Toya never said anything about it, but just ever so lightly grinned.

“Jeez leave ‘em alone will ya?”

You were nice to be around, not annoying or too loud. You also threw it right back at Toya anytime he tried to comment on something you did. But you also called others out of their shit.

“I could always just make you walk to me ya know.” You sighed. Arms slug over his shoulders as the two of you dance to some shitty song you were playing on your phone. Each of you shared an airpod.

“You’d lose your vocal cords if you do.” He tightened his hold on you.

• Injury •

“Dabi” your voice was strained, bubbly as you choked on spit, air, and blood. Burns encased your neck with no particular pattern. Meaning someone was aiming for your throat or head area with a fire-like quirk. Your mouth was sputtering blood. “D-Dabi”. Your body had collided hard with a wall, likely causing a broken rib or hopefully, just some intense bruising. Burns and sizzling skin covered your neck, jaw, and upper chest. Drops of blood slide down to mingle with your charred clothes.

Toya sees red, grating his teeth as he watches a shifted Toga sprint to your side. Her face turned worried, as she touched your shoulders.

Toya knows in the back of his mind it was likely to happen, that the so-called heroes would go for your ‘weak point’ - he would too. But that doesn’t stop him from seeing red. Someone hurt you.

Toya has a small family, and it is the League and you. And you just got injured.

If he notices it was Endeavor that caused this. He’s lost way too far in rage to be consolable.

Blue, complete blue and he doesn’t give a shit who’s caught in the crossfire.

“Why do you destroy everything good? Do you get off on it? By destroying our family.” He’s yelling outputs but no one can hear him due to the sound sod cracking fire.

• Weeks Later •

When you turn your head to face Dabi, your fingers reach out toward his own. His jacket lays crumbled by your face. Something you kept snuggling into m, breathing in the Smokey sent.

“I don’t have to get staples, do I?” You asked, peering out of the black fabric

It causes Dabi to grin. “Not yet doll didn't earn them”

“Thank f-“ you started coughing, your voice straining hard. Davis holding your hand in both of his.

“Take it easy doll.”

• Recovery •

Dabi lets you practice your quirk on him. You have to retrain it a bit after the damage caused by the fire. Though you sometimes wish he wouldn’t let you practice on him, it lets him see you struggle and fail. It angers you. But he’s always there to calm you down.

“Breath doll.”

Dabi allows you to call him, aiming in your wobbly voice to lure him over to you. Allowing you to kiss his lips before you completely let control go. He’ll hold you from behind, sometimes lifting you and saying “C’mon on doll, get out of this.” You have to sing to take it over, causing his body to relax and let you go. Dabi will barely agitate his quirk, giving you the chance to try and Solti him into a dull state of mind to have him stop. tell

“Getting a better doll.”

○ Izuku ○

• Injury •

You were both so close to finishing this damn chase. It had gone on long enough. Your legs sprung you forward, past Izuku as you used more of your strength in your jump. Your target only an arms length away.

“Come on ZuZu!” You yelled out, adding your final stretch.

Izuku lost sight of you for only a minute. His chest burned as he pushed himself farther. He didn’t always like the fact you could go faster than him (your quirk), it made him nervous sometimes. What he if wasn't there in case you needed-

Your screams pierced the air. They were terrifying, bloodcurdling, and horrible. Izuku could feel his breakfast cuddle in his stomach. He felt how is heart momentarily stopped and his lung squeeze. How every breath felt hundred time more Labor-sum and sink into his chest. With his final stretch into the ally you disappeared into, he find you and the target on the ground. The target was more than likely knocked out, seeming motionless. But Izuku could care less. He watched in horror as your body contorted, back arching as your feet pressed into the ground. Your bare fingers attached into the dirty ground. A heavy line of tears rolled down the side of your face, your eyes rolled back. Izuku fell to your side, grabbing your body tightly.

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Your body shook in his hands, you yell for stops and no’s continuing.

• Reaction •

People questioned where the top hero disappeared to, a month had gone by with no sign of Deku or his lover. People questioned your and Izuku's friends, asking either out of concern or anger what happened.

People noticed how Bakugou and others seemed to appear in place of Deku and you on patrol routes. When Bakugou's numbers started rising, the world noticed how he wasn’t flaunting it. He didn’t say anything about how he deserved it, he almost seemed angry at the fact he was rising slightly. No word of Deku.

“Dynamight! Dynamight! What happened to Pro Hero Deku?””

“Why don’t you extras mind your damn business for once.”

“Uravity! Can you tell us what happened to Pro Hero Deku and (hero name)”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure.”

• Healing •

You had seen your work nightmares. Things that have happened or never could, but things that scared you to your core. You never told Izuku what you saw, but you woke up one night screaming ‘Eri’.

Izuku took a month off hero work, only able to because of his friend. When news broke to them about what happened to you, everyone came to your side.

After a month you seemed alright, able to function as you use to. But you and Izuku always did patrols together now, there were no ‘lone’ shifts anymore. Which Izuku didn't mind, he got to spend more time with you and just be with you. Ensure you’re safe.

Nighttime was still a struggle, with instances of Izuku staying awake all night to rub his back. On these nights you slept through the whole night. When he holds you while you sleep as well it seems to help.

“I’m so sorry Izuku.”

“Hey- no everything’s okay.”

Izuku got you a weighted blanket and finding out the pressure seemed to help you too.

When you start going to therapy, Izumi is there for you every step of the way.

○ Katsuki Bakugo ○

People thought Bakugous nickname for you was interesting, Bee. People mostly thought of those cute little honey bees. The fluffy ones people take pictures of when they’re a mid-flower. But that’s not where the name came from,

“Ha!? They're not that quiet. Loudest thing around” ironic coming from him.

Bee is a firework, a loud one that twirls in random directions and lets out a high pitch noise. It grabs people's attention, just like you did his. Plus your quirk. One that allowed kick-up sparks when you ran, allowing you to twist your body in the air in a way most would find disturbing. But not Bakugou, man called you money when he first saw you. And on the news.

“Moving like a damn Monkey.”

You and Bakugou had an interesting relationship. Some would say your love language was aggression. But those people didn’t see you both out of the public eye. That was a different story.

• Injury •

It was just another villain attack, something you had both become desensitized to after your time in U.A. You both had already had your near-death experience before you even graduated. It made every day more sacred that you both were still alive.

Your body lay in a crater, an after-effect of a quirk that blasted you into the sky and casted you back down. Heavy needles had shot through your body, exiting and then being retracted. Ejecting you with something while leaving open gaps in your thighs. You were motionless, wheezing breaths as you felt your limbs become something similar to static. Poison. The villain had injected you with Poison. You likely had broken bones. Ribs. Maybe a skull? Had your quirk not allowing you to twist mid-air You’d be dead. You had to maneuver your spine and legs in a certain way to protect yourself from the fast-coming blow. Accumulating just enough friction to slow yourself down slightly. Your fingertips twitched as you gasped. “K-ka-kat-see” you could feel wetness trail down the sides of your face and drop off the shattered ground. Blood or tears, possibly both. Your shattered body wheezing at even the action.

“Sue-key” your upper teeth cut into your bottom lip as the weight behind your eyes grew. Black spots flitter in and out of your vision. The sky was so blue. So pretty. ‘Kat, be okay.’ You willed yourself to look down though at your body, barely catching the notice of twisted limbs before you were pulled back down by gravity.

When the villain you had been chasing found his way to Bakugou, he knew something went wrong.

“Where are they!?”

“In a ditch slowly dying. You’ll see them soon too!”

Fire, You could see the smoke in the distantanve. Feel the Earth shaking of explosions. If the ringing in your ears wasn't so bad, you could probably hear them.

“You’re going to fucking die!”

The rumble shook your body.

He’s broken. Loosing almost all self-control and restraint as his body propels him into the air. Howitzer Impact. A war-like battle cry rips through his throat. Every emotion he felt, anger and fear, came out in that one moment. Maybe if he were in the city, or with civilians, things would have been different.

Your body physically shook, the pain radiating through every cell. You let out a pained scream, shock fully wearing off.

Katsuki wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he found your mangled body. Maybe 5-8 minutes. He slid into the creator, running on wobbly limbs to your limp body. He lashed his arms out, ridding himself of his gauntlets as you slid to your side.

“Wake up! WAKE THE FUCK UP.”

• Infirmary •

“Suki, please just look at me.” Your shaking hand reached for his face, palm cuppings his cheek. Surgery had gone well. Healing quirks also came in use.

“You dumbass.” He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his lip. “You could’ve- I would have” you watched tears trail down his face. Your heart shattering.

“But I’m here Kitkat” you quietly whispered. Pulling at the childish nickname as a resort to try and comfort him.

“Damn straight you are Baby,” Kat spoke with his eyes closed.

• Recovery •

Bakugoi allows himself to hold onto you a bit tighter when he’s helping you with walking. Your legs had been pretty much shattered and if it wasn't for your quirk, you would have lost them both… likely your life.

Bakugou is taking the time off every chance he can get to help you with your physical therapy. Cast- Wheelchair to walker to cane.

He picks you up on days they hurt too much.

Putting you on his back one day while you two were shopping. Your light as air to him, so he’s effortlessly picking up.

Katsuki takes over your patrols for the coming months. Refusing to let you go back even after the wounds had healed

“Kit, I’m okay. Doctors said so”

“So what?”

“So I’m okay to go back to patrol.”

“No, I’ll tell you when you are ready, and you're not”

Doesn’t mean to come off rude and controlling, but it’s kinda how it happens. You know better tho, with the slight gloss in his red eyes.

“Kat-“ your voice is soft, “I can decide when I’m ready to go and I’m ready to go.”

Bakugou would just stare at you, the annoyed look on his face present as he walks up to you grabs your shirt collar, and tugs you towards him. His arms wrap around you as you stand in silence.

“‘M don’t wanna lose you, Bee.”

He talks into your hair since he can’t talk to you face-to-face when he’s being vulnerable

“Please stay home, just for a day or two more.”

#bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha angst #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi fluff #midoriya izuku #deku x reader #deku x y/n #katsuki bakugō #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #bnha x gn!reader #gender neutral insert #toya x reader #toya x y/n #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader

[summerinthecloudsx]

minors DNI. warnings: Suggestive content, possessive Izuku

Izuku and his goth!girlfriend who is rivaled only by Bakugou in attitude. Who pops into the agency to bring Izuku a surprise or lunch, and listens to people talk about how undeserving you are to be with someone like Izuku. Gentle, soft, sweet. Everything they think you’re not. Because they don’t know you. They don’t see the softness of your expression when you cook with your boyfriend or hear the sound of your laughter when he places a dot of frosting on the tip of your nose. They just see the way you dress, your makeup, and judge you instantly.

And Izuku knows you can defend yourself. Knows if their opinion mattered, you would have already told them off, but you strut by them, tongue swiping out to adjust the piercing on your lip. And as you waltz by their desk, you tilt your head with a wink and cheerful wave. It isn’t much, but it’s effective. Leaves them with scrunched brows and confused gazes.

But Izuku? He’s not sure why but there’s something about your confidence, your attitude that drives him crazy. Makes his cheeks darken and pants tighten as he watches you saunter towards him. A smile plastered on your face, directed at him. Only for him.

It’s the way you place the box of his favorite sweets on the corner of his desk, stiletto black nails with red tips toying with the golden ribbon tied around it. And the way you lift yourself onto the corner of the cherry wood of his desk, crossing one leg over the other to display your platform shoes. Not to mention the smirk you press against Izuku’s lips when he rewards you with a chaste, grateful kiss. He notices. Doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift to the people who had been judging you only moments ago, their mouths parted just enough to appear shocked.

He’s not sure what possesses him then. What forces his hand up to grab the side of your neck, large palm stretching so his thumb presses against the front of your throat. Maybe it’s because he’s fed up with the way people judge you, the way they ridicule you when they think he isn’t watching. The way girls try to flirt with him, claiming they’d be a much better match. And he’s tired of it. He’s a sweet man, selfless, but something about you makes him primal.

He squeezes your throat just barely, enough to make your shoulders rise in surprise. His action elicits a soft groan from you, Izuku’s melodic tenor ringing with a content hum. Your eyes have focused solely on him now, half open and glazed with memories of his hand wrapped around your throat while he thrusted into you the night before. But the dark haired man’s eyes have drifted to the people who whispered about you when you entered his agency. And he stares, glares at them with half lidded eyes, and squeezes your throat again, tilting your head up to press another kiss against your lips. Harder this time, certainly not standard for his normal appearance.

But maybe, they’ll get the picture now. With his large hand wrapped around your throat and your black lipstick smeared across his lips. Maybe they’ll take a hint and fuck off. And if not, he’s happy to give them another show tomorrow. Because you’re his and he’s yours, whether they like it or not.

#idk what this is #its self-indulgent though #reader insert #bnha #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #goth girlfriend reader #Bnha x reader #bnha smut #izuku smut #bnha drabbles #i just know he’s feral for his s/o