first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
summary: you can't help but be overwhelmed with your love for your boyfriend, and can't help but take it out in your own strange way.
aka; you get cuteness aggression and take it out on your boyfriend.
pairings: housewardens & minajael tealrajah x gn! reader
cw: pure fluff
note: this was kinda difficult for me to write because all my motivation evaporated within one night, but I want to get back into writing more! Hopefully once my job starts up full force I still will have energy to write more (probs not).
wc: 2.9k (~350 per character)
Master List
❥ Riddle Rosehearts
Riddle Rosehearts was adorable. It was just a fact to you. He was small, with impeccable fashion and just the cutest face known to mankind. Have you seen his pout? Gosh you just wanted to squish his cheeks every time. This thought couldn’t help but bounce around in your head, like a rabid animal trying to break free of its cage.
You can only keep an animal caged for so long.
It manages to break free one evening, the two of you are on a stroll through the rose gardens. You can’t stop looking at the ruby haired housewarden, the way the sun frames his face, his gray-blue eyes alight with passion as he speaks of his time during the equestrian club, his pink lips forming around each syllable, and slowly you find yourself zoning out. The intense need to shower him with affection buzzes throughout your being, until it overwhelms you to the point of it almost being painful.
You wrap your arms around his small frame, halting your walk as you squeeze him as tight as you can, swinging him lightly as you try to get all your pent up energy out. Riddle is flabbergasted, absolutely spluttering incoherent words as his mind tries to comprehend how fast his world just shifted. A second ago he was trying to ignore your subtle glances towards him, now he’s wrapped in your vice-like embrace.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Riddle stutters, face a bright red, nearly matching the color of his hair.
“You’re just so cute!” You groan, squeezing him a little tighter to emphasize your words. “I can’t hold it in anymore, ‘m sorry.”
Riddle tries to regain his composure (a difficult task as you nuzzle into him), speaking softly, “Don’t apologize. I do not mind your shows of affection. Though I do request you keep these moments for us alone.”
“Okay,” You agree, grin bright as you get even more giddy at the prospect of being able to do this again, and again, and again. So excited, that you bite his cheek softly before pulling away.
“What in the world was that for?!” Riddle’s voice cracked, any composure long gone once again.
❥ Leona Kingscholar
While Leona was intimidating, and can be quite scary at times, you couldn’t help but remember that at the end of the day…he was still a lion. You loved to watch the way his ears twitched, or how his tail swayed, or how his canines (which were sharper than a human's) poked out when he smiled smugly. It just made you want to squish him into utter oblivion. Who allowed him to be so cute!
While Leona wasn’t a huge fan of being overly affectionate in public, he indulged your overly affectionate habits behind closed doors. Which is where you were right now, laying beside the lion beastman as he dozed the day away. Once again, that clawing affection rose up within you, the incessant need to claw and squeeze him until the energy building up in you finally goes away.
You tried to hold back, as Leona didn’t like anyone waking him up…yet, his nose twitching cutely was the death of your restraint. You lunged at him, wrapping around one of his beefy arms and squeezing around him like you were a boa constrictor. Yet it wasn’t enough, it never was. So you lay yourself completely on top of him, hugging his head to your chest, smothering him (quite literally) with your love.
“What are you doing, herbivore?” Leona’s sleepy voice asks, muffled. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Yes,” You state flatly, squeezing his head to your chest a little tighter before giving him room to breathe. Slitted green eyes meet yours, and you feel your heart melt as his pupils dilate as they meet your own.
“I question why I allow you anywhere near me with your homicidal affection,” The lion mumbles, closing his eyes once more as he relaxes further into your embrace.
“Because you love it,” You hum, leaving a splatter of soft kisses across his face.
“I love you,” He corrects, tugging you closer (somehow). Of course, Leona cannot let you have the last laugh, turning his face and giving your cheek a light chomp, his smug self dozing off once more.
❥ Azul Ashengrotto
Azul was such a gentleman, and it drove you absolutely nuts. The quiet ways he cared for you, the way he was always close to your side (and if he wasn’t, then it was the twins), the way he always gave you discounts (it wasn’t even discounts at this point, he just fed you for free). Ugh, and the cute blush he gets every time you thank him, it makes you want to eat him up! Oh and how he was so shy, yet clearly ate up all your affection made everything ten times worse.
“You. Are. So. Cute!” You punctuate each word as you squish Azul’s cheeks. He allows you to do so, ears a bright red as he takes in your strange form of affection. It was a needed break from creating fine prints on his contracts.
“Th-thank you, my pearl,” Azul stuttered, voice muffled as you continued to pinch and squish his cheeks.
He would have been offended by this not too long ago, before you both were together. It reminded him of his mother, who would always pinch his cheeks when he was little, reminding him of times where he was bullied for his weight, for his merform. Yet once his heart opened up to you, and your bond grew, he couldn’t help but be reassured by your bouts of love. It reminded him that he didn’t need to work for your affection, and that you truly did love him for who he was, and not just what he could offer.
Unfortunately for him, the squishing was not enough for you. From your spot on top of his desk, you lean in, causing the mer’s eyes to widen at your proximity. His form utterly stills, acting like this was the first time you’ve done this (it was far from that), only for you to bite his cheek.
“Darling!” Azul gasps, heart fluttering violently at your actions.
“I’m hungry for takoyaki,” You joke, nipping at his reddened cheek once more before finally pulling yourself back.
Azul’s brain officially shuts down, jaw dropped. Give him some time to try (and fail) to regain his composure.
❥ Kalim Al Asim
This sweet boy. The question is when aren’t you feeling cuteness aggression towards him? Kalim tackles you in a giant hug? You’re squeezing the living daylights out of him right back. He kisses your cheek? You kiss him all over his face. You’re both a gross mess of affection and glee, it lowkey disturbs everyone around the two of you. But neither of you could care less when you both love each other so so so so much it physically hurts to keep it inside.
“Kalim!” You practically squeal with laughter as the housewarden peppers the entire side of your face with kisses. You do your best to pull away from your overly affectionate boyfriend, who then lands ticklish kisses to the side of your neck, giggling along with your laughter. You try to push him away, face aflame as you glance at the few people who pass you in the courtyard. You fail that mission quickly as Kalim pouts towards you, which instantly bleeds into a beaming grin (he can’t pretend that he isn’t the happiest guy ever with you).
“I can’t help that I love you so much,” Kalim says without a hint of shame nor hesitation, which makes your insides turn from a gooey mess, to a violent buzzing storm.
With no rational thought, you tackle the sunny boy down onto the bench, no longer caring of the stares of others. Kalim is a willing victim, having been on the end of your cuteness aggression many times. You both squeeze each other as tight as possible, and the fact that he is copying your actions makes you feel even more aggressive.
“I love you so much too,” You reply, head buried in the crook of his neck. With skin pressed to skin, you can’t resist the urge to bite, which leads you to chomping his neck in a quick and light bite.
“Hey!” Kalim giggles, not even trying to wiggle away from you, leading you to bite his shoulder, then cheek to finish off your attack.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” You lamely apologize (you both know you’re not sorry, and that it will happen again). “You’re just too cute.”
“It’s okay,” Kalim easily bats off your apology, arms looped around your waist as you still lay on top of him on the uncomfortable bench. “You should do it again!”
You both fed into each other's affection crazes.
❥ Vil Schoenheit
It was an awful, bubbling pit that you had to keep to yourself. Every time you saw Vil’s newest photo shoot, or watched the newest movie he was in, that crazy urge to chomp his arm off festered inside you. Could anyone blame you? Vil was beautiful, skilled, amazing, gorgeous, and so, so sweet in his own (slightly backhanded) way. You weren’t the only one with those feelings, but you were by far the luckiest, as you can call him your boyfriend.
Ugh, and the fact that Vil has let you on set for his photo shoots? It’s torture in it’s own form, one you willingly put yourself through every time. You do your best to act like a normal human being as Vil poses, switches outfits, makeup changes, then poses again. You pretend like your brain isn’t barking like a feral dog as you bring him his water bottle, reassuring him he looks perfect when he asks for your opinion. You hate the knowing look in Vil’s amethyst eyes as you scuttle away.
It isn’t till later when you’re both safe in his room, tucked under the blanket of night when all your pent up energy releases.
“You’re too pretty to be kept alive,” You grumble, squeezing Vil with all the strength you could muster. Vil could only let out an amused sigh, allowing you to exhibit your cute tendencies. As much as you wanted to take a bite out of your too gorgeous boyfriend, you had begrudgingly agreed to not leave any marks (or do anything that could lead to marks), so you settled on wrapping yourself like a koala around Vil and trying to merge you both.
Vil absentmindedly runs a hand through your hair, frustratingly unaffected by your attack. So, you use the last tool in your arsenal, and press your lips to his feverishly. Of course Vil reciprocates, and you can’t help but wonder what he sees in you, but that thought quickly dissipates as he easily leads you into a more coherent kiss, taming your rampage into something more gentle until finally the energy in your system is gone.
“What am I going to do with you,” Vil mumbles fondly, tucking you close into his side (you’re already pressed against him, but it’s a sweet gesture nonetheless). He’ll never admit that your cuteness aggression for him does something he’s not too proud of.
❥ Idia Shroud
Idia is too beautiful to be a recluse shut in. You cannot comprehend how your boyfriend thinks he’s ugly. From his flaming blue hair, bright yellow eyes, and that cute shy smile he gets around you. Ugh, just the thought makes you want to squeeze his head till it pops…in an affectionate sense. Idia finds the notion insane. He can barely comprehend the fact that he has a partner, let alone that you love him so much it makes you go crazy. He would just be existing and you would spring at him like a rabid raccoon. Who even does that?? It’s not like he’s a romance protag, yet you make him feel like one.
You do your best to not jump him when he’s gaming. You know how seriously he takes it, and you don’t want to make him upset if he fails in getting an ssr, or a rare item. So you sit (im)patiently on his bed, pretending to scroll on your phone when you’re secretly eyeing up your pretty boy. He’s completely lost in his game, a giant, maniacal grin spread across his lips as he mashes the button of his controller. He looks so happy it makes your stomach flip.
You really, really tried to be patient, sitting there for a few hours, yet when Idia gets into a game, he can play it for days without a break. So you give in to your desires, slithering your way towards his seated form, stealthy coming up behind him. Your stomach twists in knots at the anticipation of finally smothering your boyfriend in the affection he deserves. You pounce, nearly jumping into his lap as he lets out a high pitched scream. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction as you wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing his form into your own.
“Wh-what are you doing?!” Idia exclaims, voice cracking on a few syllables.
“Loving you,” You grumble, peppering kisses into his neck as you nuzzle into his side. You feel the heat of Idia’s hair as it flares, his attention solely on you as you shower him with kisses and hugs.
The ‘game over’ screen is long forgotten as Idia basks in you and the love that consumes you both.
❥ Malleus Draconia
Malleus is overjoyed by your bouts of cuteness aggression. In fact, he anticipates it, wishing to have you shower him with the affection he oh so longs for. He cannot judge you though, as he feels the same, he is just unsure how to showcase his own affection. Ugh, but he is just a total cutie. You love when he pouts at his phone, asking you for help, or when he speaks passionately about gargoyles, or when he looks towards you to see how you react. All your adoration and love just want to explode like a volcano! Malleus just smiles and it makes you want to kiss him all over his pretty face.
“You’re so gorgeous,” You complain, squishing his cheeks beneath your palms. “Who let you be so pretty? It should be a crime.”
Malleus’ grin speaks wonders as he sits perfectly still, eating up your attention and affection. He says nothing, eyes squished as you paw at his cheeks like its playdough.
“You’re too dangerous to be left alive,” You declare, pausing your movements. Malleus tilts his head, curious about what you’re going to do next, and your cuteness aggression flares even more at the adorable gesture.
You don’t think as you lean in and lightly ‘bite’ (more like place your mouth around) his horn, the two of you stock still as the action clicks in your heads. Your stomach drops, you definitely went too far, and you pull back, apologies ready to fly off your tongue, but strong arms halt your movement. Your breath is still as you notice the bright red blush that coats the dragon fae’s cheeks and ears, his pupils widely dilated as he stares at you. Your heart skips a beat as he pulls you closer.
“You are quite brave, child of man,” His voice reverberates between you both, but his tone is filled with nothing but warmth and something a bit darker. “You are lucky that I enjoy all your strange forms of affection.”
With that, he leans in and bites your cheek (something you have done to him countless times), reciprocating your strange show of love.
❥ Minajael Tealrajah
Minajael cannot get enough of your seemingly random attacks of affection towards him, no one had dared to get close to him, let alone bite him (except for his adorable pet tiger). It invigorated him, made him feel strangely normal. You didn’t treat him like some porcelain prince like his father did, nor did you treat him like untouchable royalty like others, and biggest of all, you didn’t try to suck up to him because of his title. Your uncontrollable affection for him proved just that.
You had borrowed the magic carpet from Kalim, taking Minajael for a ride across Sage’s Island. It was beautiful, the moon a waning crescent above, the sky nearly clear, if not a few fluffy clouds dotting the horizon. Yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of the prince across from you. Your heart melted at the way his warm, brown eyes took in the scenery, his face shining with wondrous awe. The nail in the coffin was when his gaze finally landed on you, eyes brimming with love and joy and it makes you want to explode.
You gently hold his face, squishing his cheeks lightly before attacking his face in kisses. Minajael chuckles softly, practically melting in your embrace, his own heart beating erratically. Yet kisses aren’t enough to get rid of the vibrating energy that is buzzing beneath your skin. So you squish his cheeks together, pressing a final kiss to his smushed lips before tackling him (gently, you don’t want to fall off the carpet).
“You are so strange,” Minajael breaths out, enjoying the way you try to squeeze it out of him. “I love it.”
“You say that like you aren’t strange too,” You reply seamlessly, relaxing your hold as Minajael wraps his arms around you.
That familiar smug smirk tugs on his lips, nuzzling your nose with his own.
“You’re right,” He agrees, his sweet affection turning sharp as he bites the tip of your nose in retaliation. “We’re a perfect match.”
It was safe to say that you both match each other’s freak.
𑣲 summary: restless at his inability to fall asleep, bakugo comes looking for you.
𑣲 pairing: bakugo x reader (both are U.A students)
𑣲 wc: 0.9k | 𑣲 tags: comfort
The clock ticks on in equal intervals, each tick resembling a gunshot that pierces through the eerily still midnight air. For once, the dorm building is blanketed with a deafening silence, everyone long drifted off into a well-needed rest after enduring the harshness of today's training. The silvery moonlight trembles as it creeps along the floor of Katsuki Bakugo's bedroom, canaries that had been singing a merriment tune outside his window silenced by the authority of time.
Katsuki Bakugo should have been asleep long ago. He is notorious among the class for being the earliest sleeper after all. Yet here he lies sprawled out on his bed, blanket carelessly kicked to one side as he stares up at the ceiling, unease plaguing his frantic heart.
It is too silent. And Katsuki Bakugo is never a silent guy, his quirk being a strong definition of his identity.
He swears quietly and kicks himself inwardly, lamenting his inability to fall asleep earlier when there were still noises in the background generated by his classmates that could lull him into sleep. He'd never tell anyone that that is the only reason why he goes to bed so early… but you are the sole exception, of course.
Bakugo pushes himself off his bed warily, dull blood eyes darting left and right. He watches the flickering shadows dance on the walls of his bedroom before he finally raises a hand to ruffle his hair out of annoyance and slips out of his bed, padding towards the bedroom door.
His footsteps are quiet out of rare consideration for his classmates, floorboards groaning with hushed creaks as he makes a beeline straight to your room. The corridors brighten with golden rivers flowing from the tiny gap underneath your bedroom door, illuminating Bakugo's hopes that you are still up and able to entertain him. Right before Bakugo knocks on your bedroom door, he hesitates and pauses. He contemplates disturbing you to seek comfort. He calculates the shame that will accumulate if he is to show you such a weak and vulnerable side of him. And lastly, he wonders if you are actually awake or if the golden rivers are just a product of the little nightlight you switch on every night before you go to bed.
In the middle of all his jumbled thoughts, the door gently swings open and Bakugo freezes like a deer caught in headlights. You look up at him, head tilted, dressed in your nightwear and a pencil in your hand.
You're no stranger to Bakugo visiting your room in the middle of the night when everyone else is fast asleep and silence invades the dorm building. You're also no stranger to Bakugo standing there in your doorway, raw panic in his eyes and cheeks flushed red from sheer embarrassment at being caught lingering outside your bedroom every single time. It's a moonlight waltz and you always catch Bakugo before he falls.
"Are you scared?" You ask softly, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of blonde hair aside.
Bakugo snorts out of faux haughtiness but you see right through him like he is a piece of glass, how his shoulders hunch up immediately and how his crimson eyes dart towards your lamp, the only source of light in the hellish nightmare of darkness immediately. "Why would I be scared?"
"Why can't you be scared?" Your lips curve into a gentle smile. Without waiting for an answer, you grasp Bakugo's hand with your free hand and tug him towards you before you nudge the door shut. He stumbles towards you with the shakiness of a newborn fawn. "Lie down."
"I'm not tired. Don't tell me what to do." Bakugo sulks, his eyes roaming all over the open textbooks and study materials on your desk. You laugh lightly without a reply and return to your chair, sitting down on it before you resume your studying with your back facing Bakugo.
It takes Bakugo a whole minute of standing awkwardly behind you like he has just invaded on a sacred shrine before he finally ambles towards your bed adjacent to your desk and lies down on his side as he stares up at your side profile. The golden lights paints your face, softening your facial features and Bakugo can only stare stupidly as you continue jotting down notes. He traces every line and curve, every rise and dip, every crest and trough.
Your pencil scrawls roughly against the papers. Your chair creaks each time you shift in your position. You let out a satisfied hum when you finish a section or a questioning sigh when you encounter a perplexing question.
Bakugo blinks as the drowsiness slowly seeps in, starting from his bones and surging up to his head. Your outline wavers and blurs in his vision before his eyelids finally gives up and he drifts off into a deep sleep, faint snoring erupting minutes later.
You turn your head towards the sleeping boy on your bed, watching as his chest rises and fall evenly. With a light smile, you lean over to pat his head softly and you are answered with a soft content hum as he instinctively nuzzles up to your touch.
You return to your studying afterwards without needing to make any more intentional noises. When you're finally done with what you sought to do, you set down your pencil and slide into bed next to Bakugo, cradling the sleeping boy close to you before you finally fall asleep too.
a/n: i've returned. i am now open for requests. please read my guidelines first before submitting.
bf!kirishima who never shuts the fuck up about you. ; 0.3k
you don’t even notice at first. that is until bakugo comes knocking on your door at the ass crack of dawn.
you’re in your pajamas, cuddling with bf!kirishima, and then someone starts knocking on your door very persistently.
“i’ll get it.” you say gently, knowing your boyfriend is fast asleep due to the training him and bakugo decided to force themselves to do.
you gently open the door trying to make as little noise as possible.
“if your fucking boyfriend mentions your name ONE more time, i swear to fuck you will be a widow.” katsuki threatens as you can baisically see the steam coming out of his ears. “your name didn’t leave his mouth the whole. time.”
you feel a pair of arms wrapping around you from behind.
“hey bakubro! why ya’ yelling so much, hm?” kirishima feigns innocence as his best friend gets even redder in the face.
“i’m never training with you again, ya’ hear me?!” the door shuts with a thud as eijiro closes it.
“don’t know what midoriya’s been feeding him.” he shrugs with a knowing smile, ready to go back to dreaming about you. he’s almost at the bed before you call out to him.
“eijiroooo” you whine slightly. he turns around quickly.
"yes baby?" all his attention is immediately back on you, sleep leaving his mind.
your hands are covering your face in embarrassment. your face has gone completely red, matching his hair color.
"that's was embarrassing, eiji." he signs as he carries you back to bed.
"shh bakugo's just bitching about shit that doesn't even matter, you know him." he lies you gently onto the sheets and kisses your forehead.
"if you say so."
both of you know katsuki wouldn't be this mad over 'nothing'.
Pairing: Touya Todoroki/Dabi x Fem!Childhood Sweetheart!reader
Genre: Mainly Angst, but there is some Fluff mixed in as well!
Warnings: None
WC: 4,646
This story is based on this gif imagine!
Fanfiction Masterlist
The elevator descends deeper and deeper beneath Tartarus, each mechanical groan echoing through the narrow steel chamber like the prison itself is alive.
The deeper you go, the colder the air becomes.
It creeps beneath your coat, slides across your skin, settles heavy in your lungs.
His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dark coat, shoulders stiff beneath the fabric.
The harsh fluorescent lights overhead sharpen the scar over his left eye, throwing the exhaustion on his face into brutal clarity.
Ever since the war ended, he looks older somehow.
Not physically—he still has the same sharp features, the same heterochromatic eyes—but grief sits on him differently now.
Like a weight he can’t set down.
Neither of you speak during the ride.
There’s too much to say.
And somehow, nothing at all.
The elevator finally shudders to a stop.
Thick metal doors slide open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a long underground corridor lined with reinforced walls of steel and concrete.
Armed guards stand posted every several feet, their expressions unreadable behind helmets and visors.
The atmosphere inside Tartarus feels wrong.
Not just dangerous.
Dead.
The scent of antiseptic and artificial frost saturates the air so heavily it burns the inside of your nose.
Every breath comes out faintly visible.
Somewhere far off, machinery hums with a constant mechanical drone.
Shoto steps out first.
You follow half a pace behind him.
Your heartbeat grows louder with every step.
Touya Todoroki.
The name alone feels dangerous inside your head.
For years, you trained yourself not to think it.
Not to say it.
After the news reports.
After the broadcasts.
After Dabi revealed his true identity to the world, and everything collapsing into ash and blue flames.
You told yourself the boy you loved died years ago.
That the villain wearing his face wasn’t him anymore.
But then Shoto showed up at your apartment a few nights ago, standing silently outside your door in the pouring rain.
And the first thing he said to you was—“He asked for you.”
The memory makes your chest ache so sharply you nearly stumble.
Shoto notices immediately.
His gaze flicks toward you. “You okay?”
You nod too quickly. “Yeah.”
It’s a lie.
He knows it’s a lie.
But thankfully, he doesn’t call you out on it.
The two of you stop outside a massive reinforced door at the end of the corridor.
Frost crawls along the edges of the metal frame like veins of ice.
A security panel glows beside it.
Shoto hesitates.
Just for a second.
You notice the slight tightening of his jaw before he reaches for the keycard clipped to his belt.
“I should warn you,” he says quietly. “He’s… different.”
Your throat tightens.
Different.
How much more different can Touya become?
Shoto swipes the card.
The lock disengages with a heavy clunk.
Then the doors slide apart.
Freezing air immediately rushes over your body.
Your breath catches.
The room beyond resembles less of a prison cell and more of a medical laboratory.
White floors.
Steel walls.
Endless monitors glowing blue.
The constant beeping of machinery fills the silence like artificial heartbeat rhythms.
And there—In the center of the room—Is the cryo chamber.
It towers vertically toward the ceiling, thick reinforced glass covered in layers of frost.
Blue light pulses softly from within the capsule, illuminating the silhouette inside.
Your feet stop moving.
For a moment, you can’t breathe.
Touya.
No—Dabi.
No—Both.
The scarred figure suspended within the chamber looks horrifyingly fragile.
Burns cover nearly every visible inch of skin.
Dark purple scar tissue stretches across his body in brutal patches, stapled together in jagged lines.
Tubes snake from his arms and neck into humming machines nearby.
His chest rises and falls slowly beneath layers of medical harnesses regulating his temperature and breathing.
The war nearly killed him.
You knew that already.
The news reports said his body had been burning itself alive for years.
But seeing it—Actually seeing him—Destroys you in ways you aren’t prepared for.
“He shouldn’t have survived,” Shoto says softly behind you. “The doctors still don’t fully understand how he did.”
You barely hear him.
Your entire world narrows to the man inside the glass.
Memories crash into you all at once.
Touya grinning at you by the docks when you were teenagers.
Touya stealing your scarf and sprinting away laughing.
Touya promising you he’d become stronger than All Might one day.
Touya kissing you under flickering streetlights with cold hands and warm blue eyes.
Not Dabi.
Touya.
Your boots click softly against the floor as you finally force yourself closer.
The sound echoes through the freezing room.
Inside the chamber, the figure stirs.
Slowly.
Heavy eyelids twitch.
Then vivid blue eyes open.
The sight hits you like a physical blow.
Even now, after everything, those eyes are unmistakable.
Touya’s gaze is distant at first.
Empty.
Exhausted beyond comprehension.
Like someone who’s spent so many years consumed by hatred that there’s nothing left inside him anymore.
Then he sees you.
Everything changes instantly.
His pupils widen violently.
The heart monitor spikes.
Beepbeepbeepbeep—One of the nearby machines begins sounding a warning tone as his pulse skyrockets.
“Touya,” you whisper, his name leaving your lips before you can stop it.
Inside the chamber, his entire body goes rigid.
His mouth parts beneath the oxygen mask in what looks like a silent gasp.
Disbelief floods his expression so completely it’s unbearable to witness.
You step closer until you’re standing directly in front of the glass.
Your trembling hand rises slowly before pressing flat against the freezing surface.
Touya stares at your hand like he can’t comprehend it’s real.
Like you’re a hallucination his broken mind created.
His scarred jaw trembles.
The staples lining his cheeks pull taut as his expression crumples.
He tries to move.
You see the effort immediately.
His arm twitches weakly against the restraints of tubing and wires.
He attempts to lift it toward you, but the motion barely gets halfway before his strength gives out completely.
His hand falls uselessly back to his side.
A broken sound escapes him through the breathing mask.
Not a word.
Just pain.
Your vision blurs with tears.
God.
He looks so tired.
Not evil.
Not monstrous.
Just tired.
Like the world finally stopped burning long enough for him to realize what he became.
Shoto quietly steps farther back, giving the two of you space.
Touya never looks away from you.
Not once.
A tear gathers in the corner of his eye.
Then another.
You watch helplessly as the tears slide down the scarred skin of his cheeks, catching the cold blue light before freezing against his face in tiny crystalline trails.
His chest begins shaking.
Silent sobs.
The monitors speed up again.
His eyes squeeze shut as if he can’t bear looking at you anymore.
And suddenly you understand.
He thinks you hate him.
After everything he’s done—Everything he destroyed—He thinks seeing you recoil would hurt less than seeing you stay.
Your chest aches so violently it feels impossible to stand.
“Touya…” Your voice cracks. “Look at me.”
Slowly, painfully, his eyes reopen.
They’re shattered.
You’ve never seen someone look so utterly devastated.
He leans forward weakly inside the chamber until his forehead rests against the frosted glass directly beneath your hand.
The movement fogs the surface between you.
You can practically feel the trembling wracking through him.
“I’m here,” you whisper against the glass.
His eyes close again and more tears spill free.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A choked sound leaves him.
His fingers twitch weakly at his side before finally—finally—lifting just enough to press shakily against the inside of the glass opposite your hand.
The barrier between you is freezing and thick and impossible to cross.
But for the first time in years, Touya looks at you like he remembers who he used to be.
Not Dabi.
Not a villain.
Just a boy who wanted someone to stay.
Years pass before Touya is finally removed from the cryo chamber.
Not months.
Years.
Years of surgeries.
Years of skin grafts and rehabilitation.
Years of carefully monitored temperature regulation because his body still runs too hot even when he’s sleeping.
Years of physical therapy after the damage his quirk inflicted left entire sections of muscle barely functional.
And through all of it—You visit him.
At first, the visits are heavily supervised.
You sit behind reinforced glass while doctors monitor his vitals like he’s still moments away from dying.
Touya barely speaks during those early months.
Sometimes he doesn’t look at you at all.
Sometimes he stares for so long it feels like he’s trying to memorize your face before it disappears again.
The nation slowly rebuilds above ground while deep beneath Tartarus, Touya learns how to exist without rage consuming every second of his life.
It isn’t easy.
There are setbacks.
Some days he spirals so badly the guards end the visit early after his heart monitor spikes dangerously.
Some days he refuses to speak entirely, shoulders hunched forward beneath hospital blankets while silence suffocates the room.
But you keep coming back.
Every week.
You tell him about the outside world.
About how Shoto became one of the top heroes despite everything.
About Natsuo finally going back to college and proposing to his girlfriend.
About Fuyumi opening a small tutoring center for kids displaced after the war.
You tell him about rainstorms and crowded train stations and stray cats that sleep outside your apartment building.
Normal things.
Human things.
At first, Touya only listens.
Then eventually—Very slowly—He starts talking back.
Not as Dabi.
Never as Dabi.
Dabi’s voice was sharp edges and mockery and smoke curling from burned lungs.
Touya’s voice is quieter.
Rough.
Fragile.
Like someone relearning how to speak after screaming for too many years.
The first time Touya laughs again, it almost ruins you.
It happens nearly three years after your first visit to Tartarus.
By then, visiting him has become part of your life in a way that feels both terrifying and natural.
The guards know your name.
The long metal hallways no longer make your stomach twist the way they used to.
Even the heavy security doors with their hydraulic hisses have become familiar sounds etched permanently into your memory.
But Touya himself is still hard to read.
Some days he barely speaks at all.
Some days he stares at the wall behind you with that distant, hollow look in his turquoise eyes, like he’s somewhere far away.
Other days he talks just enough to cut you open with a single sentence before shutting down again.
Still, you keep coming back.
And eventually, little pieces of him begin returning.
Not Dabi.
Touya.
That day, you’re sitting across from the glass divider with your knees pulled close to your chest in the uncomfortable metal chair next to the cyro chamber.
One arm hangs lazily over his bent knee, black staples catching faintly under the fluorescent lights above him.
You’re telling him about Shoto.
Specifically, about how Shoto accidentally froze an entire press conference microphone during a live interview after a reporter kept pestering him with invasive questions about the Todoroki family.
“He had this look on his face,” you explain, already trying not to laugh. “You know the one. The really irritated stare where he looks exactly like Endeavor for half a second before he realizes it and gets even angrier?”
Touya rolls his eyes dramatically. “That sounds horrifying.”
“It gets worse,” you continue quickly. “The reporter kept talking, and suddenly the microphone just—” You clap your hands together. “Frozen solid. Ice everywhere. The table. The cameras. One guy almost slipped trying to run away from the stage.”
Touya’s mouth twitches.
You pause immediately.
Because that hasn’t happened before.
“He didn’t even apologize,” you add carefully, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He just stared at the microphone like he was offended it froze in the first place.”
Touya lets out a sudden sound.
A sharp snort.
It escapes him before he can stop it.
The noise startles both of you.
His eyes widen instantly, horror flashing across his face like he’s physically caught off guard by his own reaction.
He turns his head away sharply, shoulders going rigid.
But it’s too late.
You heard it.
A laugh.
Not the cruel, jagged mocking sound Dabi used to make on television broadcasts.
This is different.
Small.
Rusty.
Broken from disuse.
Human.
For one fragile second, Touya Todoroki sounds twenty-four instead of haunted.
And your chest caves in around the feeling.
He looks genuinely shaken by it, like he doesn’t understand how something so normal managed to escape him after years of rage and smoke and ash.
You feel tears sting your eyes instantly.
Touya notices immediately and groans softly, dragging a scarred hand down his face. “Oi, don’t start crying.”
“I’m not crying,” you lie terribly as your vision blurs.
“You literally are.”
“I hate you,” you whisper shakily, laughing through the tears now slipping down your cheeks.
Touya stares at you for a long moment after that.
And for the first time since you met him inside Tartarus, you catch something warm hidden underneath all the exhaustion in his expression.
Not happiness.
Not yet.
But something close enough to hope that it nearly destroys you.
You cry the entire drive home afterward.
Not because you’re sad.
But because for the first time in years, Touya sounded alive.
Eventually, almost 7 years after your first visit, the doctors decide that his condition is stable enough for permanent removal from cryostasis.
That morning, your hands shake the entire trip to Tartarus.
The prison feels different now than it did years ago.
Still cold.
Still oppressive.
But less like a tomb.
The guards recognize you immediately when you arrive. None of them question your visits anymore.
After years of consistent clearance checks and supervised meetings, your presence has become routine.
Even so, your stomach twists as you walk through the underground corridors.
The medical wing doors slide open.
Cold vapor rolls across the floor.
And there he is.
The heavy hiss of depressurization echoes through the room as the cryo chamber unlocks for the final time.
Thick white vapor spills outward in heavy waves, curling around the sterile floor beneath the pale overhead lights.
Touya sits on the edge of the medical bed nearby, wrapped tightly in a dark thermal blanket.
For a moment, you almost don’t recognize him.
Not because he looks unfamiliar—But because he finally looks alive.
His body still bears the brutal evidence of everything he survived.
Scar tissue stretches across his neck and jaw in uneven patches.
Medical staples remain along parts of his arms where grafts are still healing.
His once-burned skin now appears softer in places, newer beneath years of reconstruction.
His white hair has grown longer over time.
It falls messily across his forehead and brushes the back of his neck, slightly uneven where sections had once been burned away entirely.
He looks thinner than he used to.
Softer, somehow.
Exhausted in a way that settles deep into bone.
The room door clicks shut behind you.
Shoto leaves without saying a word.
You and Touya are finally alone.
The silence stretches.
Heavy.
Not uncomfortable.
Just full.
Full of years neither of you know how to properly put into words.
Touya stares down at his scarred hands gripping the blanket around him.
You notice immediately that he doesn’t wear restraints anymore.
Your chest tightens at the realization.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says quietly.
God.
His voice.
It’s rough and damaged from years of smoke inhalation and destroyed vocal cords, but it sounds nothing like Dabi anymore.
There’s no venom in it.
No theatrical cruelty.
Just exhaustion.
Just Touya.
You step farther into the room. “I’m not leaving.”
His shoulders tense instantly.
Then slowly—Painfully slowly—He lifts his head.
Those bright blue eyes lock onto yours.
A breath leaves your lungs.
Even after all these years, the intensity of his gaze still feels overwhelming.
But now there’s no madness inside it.
No wildfire destruction waiting beneath the surface.
Only longing.
And shame so deep it physically hurts to look at.
“Look at me,” he says hoarsely.
One scarred hand gestures weakly toward himself.
Toward the ruined remains of his body.
Toward the monitors beside him still tracking his temperature and heart rate.
“Really look at me.”
Your chest aches.
“The boy you knew died a long time ago,” Touya whispers. “I burned him alive myself.”
You walk toward him anyway.
One step.
Then another.
Touya watches you approach like he expects you to disappear if he blinks too hard.
“You used to look at me like…” He swallows harshly. “Like I was worth something.”
“You were.” you reply.
A broken laugh escapes him.
“No,” he says immediately. “No, I wasn’t.”
His eyes drop to the floor. “I killed people.”
The confession comes out barely above a whisper.
“I ruined lives. I hurt Shoto. I hurt my family.” His voice grows rougher. “I spent so many years wanting everyone to suffer as much as I did that eventually I forgot what being human even felt like.”
Your throat burns painfully.
Touya’s hands shake harder against the blanket. “And then you keep coming back anyway.”
You stop directly in front of him.
“I didn’t understand it,” he admits. “Every visit, I kept waiting for you to finally look at me like everyone else does.”
“And how do they look at you?” you ask gently.
His expression twists. “Like I’m a corpse pretending to breathe.”
Silence settles heavily between you.
Then slowly, carefully, you kneel in front of him.
Touya immediately stiffens.
Up close, you can see every healed seam in his skin.
Every silvered scar.
Every place where years of surgeries pieced him back together.
You reach for his hands.
He flinches instinctively.
Not away from you—Just startled.
Like he still isn’t used to gentle touch.
Your fingers slide carefully over his scarred knuckles.
His skin is still unnaturally warm.
But not burning.
For years, Touya’s entire existence revolved around fire.
Hatred.
Pain.
Destruction.
Now all that heat feels dimmer somehow.
Like embers instead of wildfire.
“You don’t have to carry it alone anymore Touya,” you whisper. “You can stop hurting now.”
At the sound of his real name leaving your lips again, something inside him finally breaks.
A strangled sob tears from his throat before he can stop it.
His entire body folds forward suddenly.
You barely have time to react before Touya buries his face against your shoulder, clutching at you with desperate trembling hands.
The thermal blanket slips partly from his shoulders as he grabs onto the back of your clothes like someone drowning.
And Touya cries.
Not quiet tears.
Not restrained grief.
Years of agony pour out of him all at once.
His body shakes violently against yours as broken sobs wreck through his chest.
You can feel how hard he’s trying to hold them back, like he spent so many years surviving through rage that he no longer knows how to survive softness instead.
You wrap your arms around him immediately.
One hand slides into his hair.
The other rubs slowly across his back.
“It’s okay,” you murmur shakily, even as your own tears spill free. “I’ve got you.”
Touya makes another wounded sound against your neck.
“I’m so tired,” he whispers.
The confession nearly shatters your heart.
Not angry.
Not hateful.
Just tired.
So impossibly tired.
You hold him tighter.
And for the first time since he was a child—Touya Todoroki allows himself to be held without trying to burn the world around him.
The first time Touya kisses you, it happens 9 years after the war.
9 years after the world watched Dabi burn himself alive on live television.
10 years after you first stepped into the freezing medical wing of Tartarus and saw him suspended inside a cryo chamber like a ghost trapped in ice.
And somehow, after everything—You still come back.
Every week.
The guards no longer escort you with the same suspicion they used to.
The routines have become familiar over the years.
Security checkpoints.
Identification scans.
Reinforced doors unlocking one after another with heavy metallic groans.
You know the path to Touya’s cell by heart now.
The underground halls of Tartarus remain cold and dimly lit, but the medical ward feels less suffocating than it once did.
Rehabilitation changed things.
Touya changed things.
Not completely.
There are still cameras.
Still guards standing nearby.
Still reinforced quirk suppressor cuffs stored in the walls in case of emergency.
But his cell no longer resembles a cage meant for a monster.
It almost looks… lived in.
When the final security door slides open, you immediately spot him sitting near the far wall beneath the narrow reinforced window.
Touya looks up from the book in his hands.
And smiles.
Small.
Sleepy.
Real.
Your chest still stumbles every single time you see it.
His hair has grown longer over the years, soft white strands brushing the collar of his dark prison-issued shirt.
Most of the staples are gone now, replaced by faded scar tissue and reconstructed skin.
Some of the burns will never fully heal, especially around his jaw and neck, but he carries them differently these days.
Less like weapons.
More like survival.
“You’re late,” he says.
The teasing rasp in his damaged voice makes warmth bloom instantly in your chest.
You shut the heavy cell door behind you after the guard gives the usual nod of approval.
“Traffic,” you reply.
Touya snorts softly. “You literally work twenty minutes away.”
You grin despite yourself. “And yet somehow I’m still late every time.”
His eyes follow you as you cross the room.
There’s always something intense about the way Touya looks at you.
Even now.
Even after years together in this strange in-between existence.
Like he still hasn’t fully convinced himself you’re real.
The small cell has changed over time.
There are books stacked near his bed now.
Sketches tucked carefully between pages.
A worn blanket folded neatly in the corner chair you usually sit in during visits.
Someone—probably Fuyumi—brought him a tiny potted plant months ago that somehow still survives beneath the weak artificial lighting.
Tiny pieces of humanity inside a prison built to erase it.
Touya sets his book aside as you approach.
“What were you reading?” you ask.
He shrugs slightly. “Some stupid mystery novel.”
“You hate mystery novels.”
“I know.”
You laugh quietly.
God, you missed this.
Not the dramatic moments.
Not the tearful confessions or grief-filled silences.
Just this.
Talking to him.
Existing beside him.
Touya watches you carefully as you sit beside him on the edge of the narrow bed.
Close enough that your knees brush.
The contact makes him go still for half a second.
Even after all these years physical affection still catches him off guard sometimes.
Not because he dislikes it.
Because he spent most of his life believing he didn’t deserve it.
“You okay?” you ask softly.
His expression shifts slightly.
There it is.
That sadness he still carries deep beneath the surface.
Touya leans back against the wall behind the bed, exhaling slowly through his nose.
“Had nightmares again,” he admits quietly.
Your chest tightens.
He doesn’t need to explain which ones.
You’ve learned over the years that Touya dreams vividly.
Too vividly.
Fire.
Screaming crowds.
His family.
The mountain.
The war.
Sometimes he wakes up convinced he can still smell smoke.
Without hesitation, you reach for his hand.
His fingers immediately lace with yours.
Automatic now.
Natural.
Touya stares down at your joined hands for a long moment.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I used to think eventually you’d stop coming.”
You blink. “Touya—”
“No, really.” His voice remains soft.
Thoughtful.
“At first I figured you were visiting because you felt guilty.”
A humorless smile tugs weakly at his scarred mouth. “Then I thought maybe you pitied me.”
Your heart aches instantly. “And now?”
Those electric blue eyes lift to yours. “Now I think you’re insane.”
A startled laugh escapes you.
Touya’s lips twitch faintly upward at the sound.
“There it is,” he murmurs.
“What?” you question, your eyes meeting his blue ones again.
“That laugh.” he replies.
The way he says it makes your chest hurt.
Like it’s something precious.
Something he treasures.
Silence settles around the two of you, softer than before.
Not heavy.
Not painful.
Warm.
Touya’s thumb slowly brushes against your knuckles.
“I still don’t understand why you stayed,” he says quietly.
The vulnerability in his voice nearly undoes you.
You turn slightly toward him on the bed. “Do you want the honest answer?”
He nods once.
You study him for a moment.
The scars.
The exhaustion.
The gentleness he had to fight so hard to reclaim.
Then you whisper, “Because every time I look at you, even now, after everything, I can still see the boy who waited for me by the docks.”
Touya goes completely still.
Emotion flickers across his face so fast it almost hurts to witness.
“You remember that?” he asks hoarsely.
“I remember everything.” you reply, squeezing his hand.
A shaky breath leaves him.
The room suddenly feels very small.
Very quiet.
Touya’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth before immediately darting away again.
Your heartbeat stutters.
For a second neither of you move.
Then slowly—Carefully—You lift your free hand toward his face.
Touya freezes the instant your fingers brush his cheek.
Not fear.
Disbelief.
Your fingertips trace gently along the healed scars near his jaw.
His skin is warm beneath your touch, warmer than anyone else’s ever is.
Touya’s eyes close.
You feel the exact moment his breathing changes.
“You don’t have to ask permission anymore,” you whisper softly.
His eyes open immediately.
The raw emotion inside them nearly steals your breath.
“You sure?” he asks.
The question is so painfully sincere that tears instantly burn behind your eyes.
Not cocky.
Not flirtatious.
Just careful.
Careful with you.
Like your heart is something fragile in his hands.
You nod once.
Touya stares at you for another heartbeat.
Then he moves.
Slowly enough that you could pull away if you wanted.
One scarred hand rises carefully to your face, fingers trembling slightly as they brush against your cheek.
His touch is unbelievably gentle for someone who spent so many years destroying everything around him.
You lean into it instinctively.
A broken sort of wonder crosses his expression.
Then Touya kisses you.
Softly.
Tentatively.
Like he’s afraid too much pressure will make you disappear.
The moment his lips touch yours, six years of grief and longing crash through your chest all at once.
He’s warm.
So warm.
Not burning.
Just warm.
Your eyes slide shut as you kiss him back immediately.
Touya makes the smallest wounded sound against your mouth.
One hand tightens around yours while the other cups your face more firmly, like he suddenly can’t stand the distance anymore.
The kiss deepens slowly.
Carefully.
Years of restrained emotion pour into it.
You can feel how overwhelmed he is in the way his breathing turns uneven.
In the slight tremble beneath his fingertips.
In the way he keeps kissing you like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to.
When you finally pull back for air, Touya rests his forehead against yours.
Neither of you speak.
His breathing is shaky.
So is yours.
For a long moment he simply stays there, eyes closed, holding you like something precious.
Then, very quietly—Almost too quietly to hear—Touya whispers, “I thought I lost this part of myself forever.”
Your throat tightens painfully.
You wrap your arms around him immediately, and Touya folds into you without hesitation now, burying his face against your shoulder as you hold him close inside the quiet prison cell.
Outside the reinforced walls of Tartarus, the world keeps moving.
But here—In your arms—Touya finally feels human again.
synopsis: katsuki bakugo and his girlfriend, reader, are cuddling after an exhausting day of training
content: mdi — second year!katsuki, sweet!reader, gentle affection, after the war au, praising, light kissing
wc: 0.8k
— searching…
everything was quieter now.
the hallways in u.a., the streets under reconstruction, the common room in the dormitory building. it seems like the end of the war brought peace upon everyone.
this feeling of peace and silence was also present in a certain loud-mouthed, overly temperamental student– katsuki bakugo.
he had sustained some of the worst injuries in the war, right there beside izuku. a hole blown through his chest, dozens of broken bones in his right arm and hand so severe that he had to undergo weeks to months of physical therapy. his heart was in such critical condition that his doctors forbid him from undergoing any massive levels of stress while he was still healing– which meant he had to tone down all the yelling, and explosions, and loud threats..
it was irritating having to soften his demeanor but what else could he do.
reader made the whole situation more bearable though. her soft-spoken words and gentle attitude had already started to rub off on him before the war, so afterwards, when peace had fallen over the country of japan, it gotten even worse. it was like her sweetness was sticking to his skin and seeping into his bones as well as the deepest parts of himself.
so now, here he was, his face buried in the crook of her neck while he lounged on top of her, resting most of his body weight on her. they were cuddling on one of the couches in the common room– which, in most cases, would be too public of a place for katsuki to even think about being affectionate, but the whole class was gone on some clean-up mission so they had the dormitory to themselves.
only reader and bakugo were allowed to stay back, having over-exerted themselves at training– boyfriend like girlfriend, apparently.
“quit bein’ a jerk and scratch my head.. brat.” bakugo grumbles under his breath as he nudges his head into reader’s chin, his voice slightly muffled by her shirt.
“i was texting.” reader shot back, placing her phone down onto the floor beside the couch before reaching up and cupping the back of bakugo’s head. she pushes her fingers into his thick tufts of ash blonde hair and starts to gently massage and scratch with her nails.
it was a comforting action that reader had been doing for months now, starting when bakugo first broke down in front of her after his kidnapping. it had always been able to soothe him into relaxation, something katsuki craved.
“ashido was jus’ asking me how you were doing.. they’re all still a bit worried bout you, if ‘m being honest.” reader murmurs in explanation, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head.
“tch.. like i care what those extras worry about. ‘m fine.” katsuki grumbles as he snuggles deeper into her embrace, his muscles starting to relax with her touch.
“i know.. they jus’ care. don’t be too grouchy.” reader comments as her hand continues to move in his hair.
“.. ‘m not grouchy.” he grumbles in slight irritation, though it was mixed with such apparent fondness it was hard to tell if he was truly annoyed or not.
a comfortable silence soon falls over them, only the chatter on the tv and the sound of bakugo’s deep breathing is audible. reader continues to gently massage his scalp, occasionally pressing kisses to his head or rubbing circles on his back.
she strategically waits till he was half-asleep, knowing he would now be too exhausted to protest what would happen next– which was a long assault of praise and affection that katsuki usually rejected cause he was too prideful.
“mmm..” reader hums in contentment, planting a gentle kiss onto bakugo’s head. “my brave boy.. so tired after working so hard.” she praises quietly.
katsuki, meanwhile, grunts in annoyance (though it seemed more like embarrassment than anything). “mmm.. so strong an’ hardworking.” reader repeats with a quiet laugh, her expression softening.
“stop teasin’ me..” he grumbles, shaking his head and nuzzling deeper into her chest (when had he moved down there?).
“.. ‘m not teasing you, ya big baby– ‘m praising you.. cause i love you so much.” reader explains with another gentle kiss to his head. katsuki doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and then shakes his head, grumbling like a stubborn cat.
“i love ya too.. stupid brat.” katsuki mutters after a few seconds of silence.
“ah, my good boy–”
“oi! ‘m not yer damn dog!” his head snaps up, his eyes narrowing into a glare of pure flustered annoyance.
when the rest of the class returns in the late afternoon, they find katsuki lying on top of reader, both of them in deep sleep. over a dozen photos were taken by numerous classmates that day– and used as blackmail later…
plagiarism, feeding work into AI & reposting of content not allowed without permission (@mwagumi)
katsuki isn’t surprised to find you in his apartment when he finally gets home, three hours later than you’d usually expect him. he barely greets you with a grunt when you smile at him from his couch.
he toes his shoes off by the door, throwing them in some corner to worry about tomorrow.
he hasn’t even done any actual hero work today. nothing physical at least. just page after page of boring, useless paperwork that somehow leaves him more tired than he’d be after fighting off a villain for hours.
as exhausted as he is, he wouldn’t dream of touching anything in his apartment until he’s showered. thirty minutes later he emerges from the bathroom, a cloud of steam escaping after him. he changes quickly before collapsing onto the couch and letting his head fall into your lap. he lets out a soft sigh as your hands find his still-damp hair.
“i won’t ask you about work,” you chuckle, already sensing that it’s nothing he wants to talk about.
“please don’t,” he mutters.
he stays like that for a while. just letting you scratch through his scalp with his eyes closed and his breathing growing more and more even.
“aren’t you gonna eat?” you whisper, looking down at him even though he can’t see you.
you made dinner for yourself a while ago and of course you’d saved a tupperware for katsuki in the microwave. for whenever he dragged himself home.
“had dinner at the agency. they had catering in the lounge to say ‘thank you’ or whatever.”
you hum in response, making a mental note to move those leftovers into the fridge.
“you know mina and some of the girls are going to that new bar downtown tonight. do you wanna get out there too, maybe relieve some stress?” you suggest.
only then does katuski crack one eye open and lift his head slightly to look you in the eyes.
“you’re kidding right now, aren’t you?”
the way he glares at you has you breaking into giggles. he can hardly keep his eyes open, much less entertain your antics. even on his good days you know you couldn’t pay your boyfriend a million dollars to go out to some noisy, crowded bar. this is his ideal friday night, and if it were up to him he’d stay this way all weekend.
“you think you’re so funny,” he grumbles as he settles back into your lap. “all i wanna do right now is lay here while you watch whatever shitty movie you’ve got on, what is this anyway?”
“it’s not shitty, ‘suki. it’s a classic—gnomeo and juliet.”
Izuku slumped his way into the comfort of his own home. The lights were off with an eerie silence. Unfortunately too tired his mind drifted to the thought of something to drink. He dropped his belongings, kicking off his shoes and making his way into the kitchen.
Your husband was rummaging inside the fridge trying to ignore the dinner you prepared for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, more like he wasn’t hungry enough. Instead Izuku grabbed a cold beverage and dragged himself towards the bedroom.
Izuku twisted the cap off the drink before entering the quiet chamber. He slouched his way over to the bed where you were supposedly sleeping. Your husband sat on the edge of the bed undoing his belt and placing the drink elsewhere. With a sigh of relief, your lover slowly moved his head to look down at you. You were wide awake.
“Welcome home” you whispered offering a small smile.
“Hi, baby” Izuku replied as he leaned down to kiss you, “what’re you doing awake?” He hushed against your lips.
“I was waiting for you to get home.” You chuckled before hiding your head in the covers. “Did you eat yet?”
“M’not that hungry, but ill take the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.” Your husband pulled away from you standing up from the mattress.
“Hmm, ok” you hummed peaking up from the warm blanket. “You tired?” You asked though the answer was obvious.
“Very.” Izuku groaned out, unbuttoning his shirt and letting his pants fall loosely on his hip. “You, baby?” He said while at the same time walking towards the dresser.
“More or less,” you shrugged. “Just been cleaning around today, trying to tidy up” you mentioned. Your husband (in a now white t-shirt and black shorts) hovered above you.
“C’mere” you whispered reaching your arms out. Izuku crawled underneath the covers pressing a light kiss to your forehead.
“Missed you today…” Your husband placed his hand over your hip. “A lot” his thumbs motioned in lazy circles.
“I missed you too, Izuku..” Your hand traveled under his shirt and up to his back. “What’d you do today, hm?”
Izuku let out a moan of annoyance, “way too much, my supposed ‘light day of work and training’ turned into a nightmare.” His grip around your hips tightened, but not enough to hurt.
“Tell me about it, baby.” You whispered looking up as you somewhat-massaged his back. Your eyes never left your lovers face as he dumped today’s activities onto you.
He complained about students, new teachers, and last-minute grading for students who turned in late work. Unfortunately being the kind teacher he is comes with its cons. He always gives students opportunities even if it stresses him out.
“Then Katsuki came by and talking to him got some weight off my shoulders.” Izuku sighed staring down at your half lidded eyes.
“Mhm..” you nodded as the sleepy state of you was taking over. Your husband giggled as he kissed the top of your hairline.
He slowly leaned over your ear, “the best part of my day..was coming home and talking to you.”
A sloppy smile was printed onto your face. You tilted your head back into the pillow.
KATSUKI is more than phased by your little sneak attack. how dare you. interrupting him during a conversation, pulling him down and kissing his cheek...
and how dare he, let his guard down enough for you to even think about attacking him like that.
"what the hell-" he turns his head to you, only to be interrupted again. this time, with a kiss to his lips. it's quick, but it's sweet. he tastes cherry now.
a snicker sounds from beside him. "dude," denki bites from behind his hand, already tearing up at the sight of the tomato-like redness building its way up Katsuki's neck. he can't even say anything else before Katsuki's glaring at him, then all he can do is turn away and laugh to himself.
"shut it, sparky." he grumbles. the crimson-eyed blond turns his attention back to you, brows furrowed and a frown on his face. "and you."
you blink. "me?"
Katsuki scoffs. he takes a step forward, but you stand still. good. he takes only one more before his hands are on your shoulders. before you know it, you're being tugged forward, and his lips are on yours. he gives you enough time to lean into it before he finally pulls away with a heavy exhale, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
"I prefer strawberries." he comments. "the cherry doesn't have the same flavor to it."
now you're red.
Denki laughs from behind you both, unable to hold it in any longer. you and your pink-cheeked lover both glare at him.
"shut up, Denki/Sparky!"
repost from my old, now terminated, account <//3 went through hell trying to dig this up
Pairing: Timeskip!Pro Hero!Shoto Todoroki x girlfriend!Pro Hero!reader
Genre: Fluff
WC: 1,849
Fanfiction Masterlist
The moment your plane touches down in Japan, your heart won’t stop pounding.
Not from nerves.
Well… maybe a little.
But mostly because after almost eight months apart, you’re finally about to see him again.
Shoto Todoroki.
Your boyfriend.
The newly ranked #2 Pro Hero in Japan.
You stare out the airplane window as the city lights glow beneath the evening clouds, Tokyo sprawling endlessly in gold and white.
Your reflection stares back at you—tired from the long flight from America, hair slightly messy, hero duffel bag slung over your shoulder—but smiling so hard your cheeks ache.
Because Shoto has absolutely no idea you’re here.
Neither does anyone else from Class A.
And somehow, against all odds, you managed to keep the secret.
Barely.
Kaminari had almost ruined it three separate times in the group chat.
It started two weeks ago.
You’d been sitting in your agency office in New York after patrol when Mina suddenly spammed the class chat with approximately thirty screenshots announcing the updated Hero Billboard rankings.
SHOTO TODOROKI — RANKED #2 HERO IN JAPAN
The internet had exploded instantly.
News stations.
Articles.
Fan edits.
Interviews.
The entire world was practically screaming finally.
You’d smiled so hard your face hurt while reading the comments.
Because nobody knew Shoto the way you did.
Nobody saw the years of effort behind that ranking.
The exhaustion.
The pressure.
The impossible expectations he carried since childhood.
People saw the calm, handsome prodigy with overwhelming power.
You saw the boy who stayed awake after missions worrying if he’d saved enough people.
The boy who quietly brought you warm tea after your patrols because you forgot to eat when you were stressed.
The boy who had once held your hand on the dorm balcony during your second year at U.A. and whispered: “I think I’m happiest when I’m with you.”
You’ve loved him ever since.
Maybe even before that.
So when Mina announced there’d be a giant celebration dinner for Shoto that the entire class would attend…
You made a decision immediately.
You were going home.
The restaurant is loud with laughter by the time you arrive.
Warm lights glow through the windows, illuminating familiar faces inside private dining rooms upstairs.
Your heart squeezes painfully the second you hear Kaminari yelling from somewhere beyond the hallway.
God.
You missed them.
You missed home.
The hostess quietly leads you toward the reserved room after recognizing you instantly.
“Everyone’s already here,” she whispers excitedly. “Todoroki arrived about twenty minutes ago.”
Your stomach flips.
Twenty minutes ago.
He’s right there.
You haven’t seen him in person in nearly a year.
Sure, there were video calls.
Text messages.
Late-night phone conversations when time zones allowed it.
But that isn’t the same as this.
Not the same as touching him.
Not the same as hearing his voice beside you instead of through speakers.
The hostess slides open the door carefully—and as soon as you enter the room, Kirishima notices you first.
His eyes go comically wide.
You immediately lift your index finger to your lips.
Silently.
Shhh.
Kirishima slaps both hands over his mouth so fast he nearly chokes.
That gets Mina’s attention.
Then Yaoyorozu’s.
Then Iida’s.
One by one, the entire class slowly realizes who’s standing in the doorway.
And every single one of them looks moments away from losing their minds.
You mouth silently: Don’t tell him.
Ochaco physically grabs Kaminari’s face to stop him from screaming.
Bakugo notices next.
His red eyes narrow immediately before a knowing smirk tugs at his mouth.
“Tch,” he mutters under his breath. “About damn time.”
At the center of the table, completely oblivious, Shoto is calmly drinking from his glass while Midoriya excitedly rambles beside him about approval ratings.
He hasn’t noticed the room going weirdly silent.
You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing.
God, you missed him.
He looks different.
Older.
Broader shoulders beneath his dark blue coat.
His hair is slightly longer now, soft strands falling over heterochromatic eyes you’ve dreamed about for months.
And somehow—somehow—he’s still the prettiest person you’ve ever seen.
Mina is vibrating so hard in her seat she might explode.
Kirishima looks like he’s about to cry.
Tokoyami dramatically lowers his drink like this is the climax of a movie.
You sneak quietly around the table while everyone fights for their lives trying not to react.
Shoto finally notices something is wrong when the room becomes dead silent.
“…Why did everyone stop talking?”
“You’ll see,” Bakugo says, already grinning into his drink.
Shoto blinks slowly. “What does that mean?”
You step behind his chair.
Close enough to feel warmth radiating from him.
Close enough to smell the faint smoke and winter scent that always clung to his clothes.
Your chest aches so badly you almost ruin the surprise right there.
God.
You missed him.
Slowly, carefully, you place your hands over his eyes.
The second your skin touches him, his entire body freezes.
Completely still.
The room collectively stops breathing.
Then you lean down beside his ear, smiling. “Guess who, number #2?”
Silence.
For one heartbeat.
Two.
Then—“...You’re here?”
His voice comes out so quiet it nearly breaks your heart.
You laugh softly. “Surprise.”
The second you remove your hands, Shoto turns around so fast his chair scrapes harshly across the floor.
And then he just—stares at you.
Like he genuinely can’t believe you’re real.
His eyes widen slowly, emotions flickering across his face so openly that the entire room goes silent again.
Shock.
Relief.
Disbelief.
Love.
So much love your chest physically hurts from it.
“Hi,” you say softly.
You barely get the word out before he’s standing.
Then suddenly his arms are around you.
Hard.
Warm.
Desperate.
The force of it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.
A chorus of screaming erupts around the room immediately.
“OH MY GOD—”
“HE MOVED FIRST!”
“TAKE A PICTURE!”
“KAMINARI DON’T YOU DARE—”
But Shoto doesn’t care.
For once in his life, he genuinely doesn’t care who’s watching.
He buries his face against your neck, holding you so tightly it almost hurts.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says quietly.
“You weren’t supposed to know.” you reply.
“I thought you were in America.”
“I was this morning.”
That finally makes him pull back slightly, staring at you like he’s still processing it. “You flew here today?”
“Mhm.” you hum.
“…Just for this?” he asks, genuinely surprised.
Your smile softens. “Of course just for this.”
Something in his expression crumbles.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just enough for you to see how much that means to him.
Shoto has never been good at asking for things.
Especially not emotionally.
But you know him better than anyone.
You know how lonely success can get sometimes.
You know how often he wonders if people love him or the image attached to his name.
So you cup his face gently and whisper: “I wouldn’t miss your moment.”
The look he gives you after that nearly destroys you.
The class absolutely loses their minds.
Mina is openly sobbing.
Midoriya is crying too.
Kaminari is yelling something about soulmates.
Bakugo looks seconds away from throwing everyone out the window.
“You idiots are so damn loud,” he snaps while aggressively wiping his eyes. “Shut up already.”
“You’re crying too!” Kirishima shouts.
“SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR OR I’LL KILL YOU.”
Laughter explodes through the room.
But Shoto still hasn’t let go of you.
One arm remains firmly around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“You should’ve told me,” he murmurs again, quieter this time.
“And ruin your reaction? Absolutely not.”
“I don’t usually react.”
“You literally looked like your brain stopped working.”
“That’s fair.”
You grin. “There’s my boyfriend.”
The faintest pink dusts across his cheeks.
And somehow, after all these years, after war and graduation and long-distance and adulthood—Shoto Todoroki still blushes when you call him that.
The dinner becomes chaotic after that.
Everyone bombards you with questions immediately.
“When did you get here?!”
“How long are you staying?!”
“Did Endeavor know?!”
“WAIT, DOES THIS MEAN YOU SAW THE AMERICAN BILLBOARD RANKINGS TOO?”
“No one cares about your rankings, Kaminari.”
“I CARE.”
Shoto barely speaks through most of it.
Not because he’s upset.
Because he literally cannot stop looking at you.
Every time you glance over, his eyes are already on you.
Soft.
Warm.
Almost disbelieving.
Like some part of him still thinks he imagined you walking through that door.
At one point, beneath the table, his fingers quietly intertwine with yours.
You squeeze back instantly.
He doesn’t let go for the rest of the night.
Hours later, the dinner finally ends.
The others slowly filter out of the restaurant amid hugs, yelling, promises to meet again tomorrow, and Mina dramatically demanding couple photos before leaving.
Eventually, it’s just you and Shoto standing outside beneath the city lights.
The night air is cool.
Quiet.
Tokyo glows around you.
For a moment neither of you speaks.
Then Shoto exhales softly. “I really thought I was hallucinating.”
You laugh quietly. “That bad?”
“I looked up and everyone was staring at me strangely. Bakugo was smiling.”
“…Okay yeah, that should’ve been your first warning sign.”
“It was terrifying.”
You laugh harder, and the sound makes something impossibly fond soften in his expression.
God.
That look.
You missed that look.
Shoto steps closer slowly until your bodies nearly touch.
Then he brushes his fingers carefully against your cheek like he needs physical confirmation you’re actually here.
“When do you go back to America?” he asks quietly.
“In three weeks.”
Relief flashes across his face so quickly you almost miss it.
“Three weeks,” he repeats.
“Mhm.” you hum with a nod.
“That’s not enough.”
Your chest squeezes painfully.
“No,” you whisper. “It’s not.”
For a second, neither of you moves.
Then Shoto leans down and kisses you.
Softly at first.
Tender.
Careful.
Like he’s savoring the fact you’re finally here.
The second your hands slide into his hair, his composure cracks completely.
His grip tightens around your waist.
The kiss deepens immediately, months of distance and longing pouring into it all at once.
You melt against him with a quiet sound, and Shoto exhales shakily against your lips like he’s been starving for this.
For you.
When you finally pull apart, both of you breathless, his forehead rests gently against yours.
“You know,” you murmur softly, “I’m really proud of you.”
His eyes close briefly.
Not because of the ranking.
Not because of the title.
But because you said it.
After a moment, he opens his eyes again, looking at you with that same quiet intensity that made you fall in love with him years ago. “…Stay with me tonight?”
You smile immediately. “Obviously, number #2.”
For the first time all night, Shoto laughs.
A real laugh.
Soft.
Warm.
Happy.
And as he takes your hand beneath the glowing city lights, you realize something quietly wonderful:
No matter how far away America is…
No matter how busy hero work becomes…
No matter how much time passed—home has always been him.
ෆ :: he wouldn't be the nervous guy he is with everyone else. to be honest, the fact that Idia has already gone through the whole process of getting into a relationship, and especially that he has let you into his world, says a LOT. there would already be enough trust for him to talk to you more about practically anything, obviously, he'd still get nervous at times, but simply because he sometimes struggles to process the huge step he took with you.
ෆ :: his room is a safe place for both of you. he would definitely make sure to create a safe space for you in his room. one of his favorite things is spending time in the same room without saying a word, so he would make sure to have your favorite drinks and snacks for those days when you're just too exhausted from being around people.
ෆ :: sometimes he's like a cat seeking your touch. ironically, there would be times when he'd seek your contact, maybe not in the traditional clingy way because that would be too cringe for a player of his level. but he'd love to feel you close, like practically not leaving any space between you when you're watching something together, or letting you play with his fingers while he's focused on doing something else.
ෆ :: he would use all his knowledge to give you the best possible experience in any technological aspect. Idia would use his technological skills to repair, or improve any of your devices. if you mention that your laptop has a problem, he would check it before you even had a chance to ask. if you want a mod in one of your games where your cows are pink, the next day you would have an installation file that he sent you. if his girlfriend wants a custom reminder app, he would make it himself and record the messages with his voice, even if he were internally dying of embarrassment.
ෆ :: you'd see that more talkative side of him that he only shows online. due to the level of trust he has with you, Idia would come quite close to the "extroverted" side he only shows online behind anonymity. you'd see him bragging about how amazing he is playing, complaining about things that bother him without any filter, or simply telling you without thinking what happened during his day while you were in class.
content : the tiktok trend where gfs record their bfs being all clingy without them knowing , pro-hero bakugo caught lacking , domestic fluff , one use of y/n
katsuki bakugo was not the affectionate type. at least that's what everyone thinks. so when mina tells you about a harmless tiktok trend that came up on her fyp, one where girls record their unknowing boyfriends being clingy, you couldn't resist trying it.
the apartment was quiet, it was late and the city lights bled softy between the curtains, all while the hum of traffic was somewhere far below.
you were both in bed. well, technically, bakugo was on top of you--thankfully not too heavy, just close. one arm was around your waist, the other was tucked under your back, all while his face was buried in the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin and you could only assume his eyes were closed, he was relaxed in such a way that made it seem like he had no intention of moving for the next decade. these were the nights you loved, when he was free from patrol and all his hero duties.
it was rare to have this kind of stillness and you were sure many, many people would be baffled that the number five, pro-hero dynamight could exist like this.
"you're warm," he muttered into your neck, voice rough and sleepy from the long day.
you smiled while your fingers brushed lazily through his untamed hair.
and, if it was even possible, he pressed closer.
it was such a sweet, simple moment that you almost felt bad about the phone that you held above him. it had been recording for a few seconds now.
it was just for a trend mina had shown you earlier (and, of course, you have absolutely no intention of sharing it to anyone), but it was something stupidly cute to torture him with.
"he doesn't know when you're recording." she'd said. "that's the whole point."
you laughed lightly, "seems kind of mean."
well, bakugo definitely didn't know.
he shifted slightly and lovingly tightened his hold on you. then, his voiced dropped a little and he drawled out the words, "don't move."
"i'm not moving," you whispered in return, amused.
"good."
there was a pause. you almost didn't want him to see the camera and ruin the moment.
his hand flexed slightly at your waist as if he was checking that the moment was real, that you were real.
"stay here." he mumbled into your neck.
"you're clingy." you teased gently. even after all this time, he still gave you butterflies.
"shut up." he said, though there was no bite to it, only comfort.
his head sank deeper into your neck again and, for a moment, you thought he'd fallen asleep like that. his breath was so quiet and steady and the weight of him felt so familiar now, it made your heart ache a little.
then he murmured a little absentmindedly, "love you.." it was so soft that you almost missed it. your fingers paused in his hair, all the while the other hand kept the phone steady.
you had a small, more-than-content smile. "yeah, i know."
he hummed like that answer satisfied him.
then, bakugo shifted his head upward a little and pressed a soft kiss to your jaw.
that's when his sleepy, crimson eyes caught the dim light from the corner of his eye.
"what is that..." he muttered sleepily.
you stared at the ceiling when he shifted his head slightly, just enough to look up... just enough to see your phone... still recording.
the second bakugo fully registered what he was seeing, his eyes locked onto the camera and he jolted.
honestly, jolted is a bit of an understatement. the blond practically jumped back off of you so fast that the blanket shifted, then his hand snapped up instinctively like he was about to detonate the room out of pure reflex.
"WHAT THE HELL-"
he was already halfway from falling off the bed, glaring up at the phone then back to you like you had betrayed him more than anybody ever had.
you could already hear denki's stupid voice saying, "good one y/n, it could get, like, twelve million views."
"the hell is this!?"
you wheezed a little, "it's just a trend-"
"A TREND?"
"yes!"
"I'LL CREMATE YOU." at that, you lost it. you fell back onto your pillow and laughed, all the while he just sat there with messy hair and looking at your phone like it was the worst villain he'd come across. "DELETE IT NOW."
"i was gonna-" you tried to speak, still laughing, "i was literally gonna-"
"I'M NOT BEING RECORDED IN MY OWN DAMN HOUSE." he barked out and turned his head away, acting like he could escape embarrassment that way.
from somewhere deep in your laughter, you managed to speak, "you were being cute."
at that, he whipped his head back. "DON'T CALL IT THAT!"
"you're ashamed of love, katsu." you teased as your hand went out to pull him back into bed, the other hand putting your phone down.
despite his yelling, he leaned into your touch without fight. though before he could lay down, he leaned across you and grabbed your phone and threw it onto his side of the bed. you had to restrain yourself from calling your boyfriend dramatic.
then, he grabbed the blanket and yanked it up over the both of you. it looked like he was trying to erase the entire incident from reality.
"...whoever gave you this idea is dead." he muttered.
you were still smiling into his shoulder when he finally settled back down. he was a little grumpy and flushed, refusing to look directly at you now. but his hand still found your waist again anyway.
i just want to say how thankful i am for all the likes, comments, and reblogs. i just started this blog and it truly is so exciting and means a lot! also, if you send in a request, i got it but it might just take me a moment! (i'm graduating in 3 weeks and then i'm all yours) <3
tag list : @paleepeaches (lmk if you'd like to be added!)
[ SYNOPSIS ] — You try to be the "perfect" partner to Megumi by hiding your own needs and pain so you wouldn’t be a nuisance. This habit becomes dangerous when you get badly hurt on a mission and lie about it, leading to a tearful confrontation when he finds you bleeding in secret. w.c: 4.8k
[ PAIRING ] — megumi fushiguro x people pleaser!reader
[ TAGS ] — gn!reader, established relationship, canon compliant (?), hidden injury, blood, reassurance, hurt/comfort, use of [Name] once, megumi is a sweetheart as usual. Lmk if I missed anything! art by: @/hong_nock
"You wouldn't mind taking care of these mission reports for me, would you? You're a lifesaver!"
Satoru Gojo didn't even pause to wait for an answer, dropping a stack of heavily redacted, coffee-stained files onto your already cluttered desk. His iconic blindfold was pushed up, a devastatingly charming smile plastered across his face—the kind of smile that made it entirely impossible for anyone to refuse him.
Your head was pounding. A dull, rhythmic thud echoed right behind your eyes, a souvenir from a consecutive string of sleepless nights. You had your own reports to file, a history exam to help Yuji study for, and Nobara had explicitly told you to be ready in twenty minutes to carry her bags through Shibuya. Your throat tightened, the word no forming perfectly on your tongue.
It was right there. All you had to do was push it past your teeth.
"Of course, Sensei," you heard yourself say, the voice sounding entirely detached from your own body. "I'll have them on Principal Yaga's desk by three."
"Knew I could count on you!" He gave you a cheerful salute and vanished in a blur of limitless space, leaving you staring at the mountain of paperwork. You swallowed the sigh building in your chest, picked up your pen, and started writing.
This was simply how you survived. You made yourself a skeleton key, filing down your own edges, your own needs, and your own exhaustion until you perfectly fit the lock of whatever anyone else required. If you were useful, if you were accommodating, if you smoothed out the friction in the lives of the people around you, they would never look at you and decide you were too much trouble to keep around, that's how it should be, right?
But nowhere was this exhausting performance more prevalent than in your relationship with Megumi Fushiguro.
Megumi with his quiet nature, Megumi with his storm-clouded eyes, Megumi who shouldered so much— with Tsumiki's curse, with the expectations of having a powerful cursed technique, Megumi who you were so so so afraid of losing.
You still have a hard time believing you two are dating. The way it happened was so casual it almost felt unreal.
It wasn’t a grand confession, just a quiet surrender to everything that made you fall for him. The hallway was still buzzing with leftover energy from Yuji’s and Nobara’s laughter, but at your door, the silence felt heavy. Megumi lingered, hands shoved in his pockets, before his fingers grazed your wrist as you were about open the door. When he leaned in, it was with the soft gentleness of someone who had finally found a place to let his guard down. The kiss was brief, but you both knew exactly where you stood in each other's lives.
Yet, being his partner did not cure your affliction; it magnified it even further. You treated your relationship like fragile glass sculpture you had to constantly balance on your fingertips. You altered your entire existence to fit the mold of what you assumed was his ideal, low-maintenance partner.
You drank your tea unsweetened because he preferred bitter things, forcing the astringent liquid down your throat every morning while secretly craving sugar. You slept rigidly on the absolute edge of his mattress, your muscles cramping by dawn, just to ensure he had the lion’s share of the blankets. When he was exhausted from a mission, you swallowed your own awful, lingering trauma from the day, hiding your bruises beneath long sleeves and painting a bright, serene smile on your face so you wouldn’t add to his mental load.
And Megumi knew.
He was incredibly perceptive, and the forced perfection of your behavior was beginning to wear on him like coarse grit against his skin. He saw the way your hands shook when you agreed to take a double patrol shift. He noticed the barely perceptible flinch when he absentmindedly turned the television to a channel you secretly hated, only for you to vehemently agree that it was a great program to watch. It frustrated him.
Megumi loved you, he loved you so much it pained him, but he felt like he was dating a shadow, only moving when he did. And he did not know how to bring it up without fearing for what you would do.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
The mission was supposed to be a standard Grade 2 curse eradication in an abandoned subway terminal. It was a joint assignment for the two of you, a rare opportunity to work together. But the intelligence from the auxiliary managers was flawed, as it so often was. The curse was a Grade 1, a massive, grotesque amalgamation of rusted metal and rotting flesh that moved with terrifying speed.
The battle was chaotic in the claustrophobic underground tunnels. Dust choked the air, illuminated only by the flickering, dying fluorescent lights overhead. Megumi had summoned Nue to provide aerial attacks, the electrical discharge illuminating the grim determination on his face. You were covering his blind spots, your own cursed energy manifesting in sharp and precise strikes.
It happened in a fraction of a second. The curse, recognizing Megumi as the greater threat, lunged toward him with a massive, scythe-like appendage. Megumi was mid-incantation, his hands clasped together, momentarily vulnerable.
Your body moved before your conscious mind could register the decision. The ingrained instinct to protect, to serve, to sacrifice, propelled you forward. You shoved Megumi hard, knocking him out of the trajectory of the blade.
The impact was deafening. The rusted metal sliced through the air and tore into your left side, ripping through your uniform and biting deep into the flesh of your waist. The agony was instantaneous, a blinding flare of white-hot pain that stole the oxygen from your lungs. You hit the concrete floor hard, the taste of copper flooding your mouth.
"Nue!" Megumi roared, his voice cracking with a rare, raw panic. The shikigami descended in a blinding flash of lightning, obliterating the curse in a concussive shockwave of cursed energy.
The dust settled, heavy and silent.
Megumi was beside you in an instant, his breathing ragged, his hands hovering over you as if afraid that touching you would shatter you completely. "Are you alright? Where did it hit you?" His eyes were wide, the usual cold indifference entirely stripped away, revealing the terrified boy underneath.
The pain in your side was excruciating, a throbbing, burning sensation that suggested the curse’s rusted blade had been laced with some kind of venomous energy. Blood was already soaking the fabric of your shirt, hot and sticky against your skin. You needed Shoko. You needed a stretcher.
But as you looked up into Megumi’s panic-stricken eyes, the old, familiar terror clawed at your throat. You caused this panic. You are making him worry. You ruined the mission. You are a burden.
The people pleaser within you seized the reins of your vocal cords.
You forced the agony down, burying it beneath a mountain of sheer, desperate willpower. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, twisting your torso to hide the worst of the bleeding from his line of sight. You plastered on a smile that felt like it might crack your face in two.
"I'm fine," you lied, your voice painfully steady. "It just grazed me. I knocked the wind out of myself when I fell."
Megumi frowned, his dark brows knitting together in suspicion. He reached out to inspect your side, but you swiftly shifted away, standing up on shaking legs. The world tilted dangerously, black spots dancing in your peripheral vision, but you dug your nails into your palms to ground yourself.
"I swear, Megumi. I'm okay. Let's just report and go home. I'm exhausted." You kept your tone light, almost apologetic. "I'm sorry I got in your way. I should have been more careful."
The apology tasted vile. You had saved his life, yet you were apologizing for being in the way.
Megumi stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. The tension radiating from him was evident, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew you were hiding something. He could smell the blood. But your adamant refusal to acknowledge the danger built a wall between you that he didn't know how to breach, yet he trusted your judgment, he trusted that you would tell him if the injury was serious.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, thick with frustration and repressed anxiety. He recalled his shikigami, the shadows swallowing Nue whole. "Let's go."
The car ride back to the college was nothing less than silent torture. You sat pressed against the passenger door, your arms wrapped tightly around your waist, secretly applying pressure to the wound that was continuously oozing blood. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of agony up your spine, but you bit the inside of your cheek until it bled rather than make a single sound. Ijichi drove in stony silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, every now and then apologising for the mistake in the mission logs, and then expressing his relief at your well-being.
By the time you reached the dormitories, you were running purely on adrenaline and the need to lock yourself in your bathroom before you collapsed.
"I'm going to take a shower!" you announced the moment you stepped into his room, your voice breathy and strained. You didn't wait for a response, practically fleeing into the adjoining bathroom and closing the door behind you.
The moment it was locked, the facade crumbled. Your knees gave out, and you slumped against the cold tile door, an agonizing gasp escaping your lips. You peeled off your ruined jacket and the blood-soaked shirt beneath it. The wound was horrific. An angry tear across your oblique, the edges blackened with residual cursed energy. It was deep, bleeding sluggishly but persistently.
Tears of pain and exhaustion finally spilled over your eyelashes, tracing hot paths down your dust-streaked cheeks. You had to clean it. You had to wrap it. You couldn't bother Shoko this late; she had been pulling all-nighters all week. You couldn't bother Megumi; he was already mad at you.
You dragged yourself to the sink, turning on the faucet. You grabbed a washcloth, soaked it in hot water, and pressed it against the wound.
A choked, pathetic sob tore from your throat. The pain was blinding, a sickening wave of nausea crashing over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body trembling violently as you tried to scrub away the blackened, infected tissue.
Click.
You froze. The sound of the lock turning from the outside. You had forgotten Megumi kept a spare key on the upper frame of the door for emergencies.
The door swung open, revealing Megumi standing in the threshold. He had changed out of his uniform, wearing only a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked exhausted.
But whatever exhaustion he felt vanished the instant his eyes landed on you.
He took in the scene in a fraction of a second: your pale, shivering form hunched over the sink, the blood-soaked washcloth in your trembling hand, and the gruesome, gaping wound on your side that was currently dripping crimson onto the pristine white tiles.
The air in the bathroom seemed to drop ten degrees. The shadows in the corners of the room physically writhed, reacting to the sudden, violent spike in his cursed energy.
"What," Megumi breathed, his voice barely a whisper, yet it resonated with the force of an earthquake, "is that."
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You scrambled to cover the wound with your arm, backing away from him like a cornered animal, your eyes wide and terrified.
"It's nothing!" you stammered, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate rush. "I was just cleaning it. It looks worse than it is, Megumi, I promise. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess. I'll clean the floor, just—"
"Stop."
The command cracked through the air like a whip. Megumi stepped into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. His face was a mask of cold fury, but his eyes—his deep, beautiful, stormy eyes—were wide with an emotion that looked terrifyingly like devastation.
He crossed the small space in two strides, grabbing your wrists. His grip was firm, inescapable, but agonizingly gentle as he pulled your hands away from your side. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he finally got a clear look at the injury.
"You call this a graze?" he demanded, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed rage. "It's entirely infected with cursed energy. You need reverse cursed technique, immediately. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything in the tunnel?"
Your chest heaved as you struggled to pull oxygen into your lungs. The panic was taking over, suffocating you. You were trapped. You had failed. You had made him angry. You had become the burden you fought so hard not to be.
"I—I didn't want to worry you," you choked out, fresh tears welling in your eyes. "You were already stressed about the mission being a Grade 1. I didn't want to slow us down. I'm sorry, Megumi. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't be mad. I can fix it, I'll go to Shoko right now, you don't have to deal with this—"
"Stop apologizing!" Megumi yelled.
You flinched violently, your shoulders instantly hiking up to your ears, your head bowing in an automatic posture of submission. The silence that followed his shout was deafening, broken only by your ragged, hyperventilating breaths and the steady drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the floor.
Megumi stared at your cowering form, the anger draining out of him in a rush, leaving behind a profound, hollow ache in his chest. He realized, with a horrifying clarity, that you were not flinching because of the pain of your wound. You were flinching because of him.
He dropped your wrists as if they burned him, taking a step back, his hands taking place behind his neck.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, his voice cracking, the anger replaced by a desperate, agonizing confusion. "Why do you lie to me? Why do you let yourself bleed out in a bathroom rather than ask me for help? Am I that unapproachable? Am I that terrible of a boyfriend that you think I would be annoyed by you almost dying?"
"No!" you cried, your voice breaking, the absolute terror of him thinking he was at fault tearing at your heart. "No, Megumi, you're perfect. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. It's not you, it's me. I'm just… I'm just trying to be good. I'm trying to be easy. I don't want to be difficult."
"Easy?" Megumi repeated, the word sounding foreign and ugly in his mouth. He stepped forward again, crowding you against the edge of the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain on either side of your waist, trapping you in. He didn't touch you, but his presence was demanding your full attention.
"You think I want you to be 'easy'?" he pressed, his eyes searching yours frantically, demanding an honesty you didn't know how to give. "I want you to be honest! I want you to tell me when you are hurt so I can take care of you!"
You shook your head furiously, the tears flowing freely now, hot and unrelenting. Your entire body was trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, threatening to break. You were breaking apart, the foundation of your entire coping mechanism crumbling beneath his gaze.
"You say that now," you sobbed, the ugly, deeply buried truth finally clawing its way up your throat, bitter and raw. "You say that now, but you don't know. You already have so much on your plate, I don't want to make it worse. If I don't do it, you will hate me, I don't want you to hate me."
The confession hung in the humid air of the bathroom, heavy and devastating.
You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the blow. Waiting for the agreement. Waiting for him to step back, to look at you with cold realization, and walk out the door. You had finally revealed the ugly, pathetic core of your soul. You were a coward, terrified of abandonment, buying love with servitude.
But the silence stretched. And then, you felt it.
The gentle, hesitant brush of his knuckles against your tear-soaked cheek.
Your eyes flew open. Megumi was looking at you with an expression that shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces. It wasn't pity. It wasn't disgust, but heartbreak. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as he struggled to find words that could possibly combat the magnitude of your self-hatred.
Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild, frightened animal, Megumi reached out. He didn't grab your wrists this time. He slid his arms around your waist, mindful of the gaping wound on your side, and pulled you flush against his chest.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ghosting over your skin.
"You are so stupid," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin, devoid of any malice, dripping only with a desperate, heavy sorrow. "You are an incredible person, so beautiful, so incredible, but stupid."
You stiffened, your hands hovering uselessly in the air, terrified to touch him, terrified to ruin this moment. But Megumi just held you tighter, his strong arms wrapping around you like a shield against the very demons inside your own head.
"Listen to me," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. He pulled back just enough to force you to look him in the eye. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place."Stop acting like your existence doesn't matter, it matters to me. You don't get to decide that you're expendable."
You let out a choked gasp, your hands finally, tentatively coming to rest against his chest, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt like your life depended on it.
"I care about you, so much," Megumi continued, his voice dropping into that serious, unwavering tone he used when making vows. "I care about protecting the people who matter to me. And you… you are at the very top of that list. If you are hurt, my world stops. If you are in pain, I am in pain. Hiding your suffering from me doesn't protect me; it destroys me."
He raised a hand, his thumb gently wiping away the steady stream of tears falling from your eyes. His touch was warm, grounding.
"You are not a burden," he said, enunciating each word with fierce, desperate clarity. "And I am begging you, please… let me take care of you. Let me be the one who carries the weight for a while. You don't have to earn your place beside me by bleeding in silence. In fact, you don't have to do anything but be here."
The dam broke.
You collapsed against him, your legs finally giving out, and he caught you effortlessly, sinking to the bathroom floor with you held securely in his arms.
You wept. You wailed. It was an ugly, guttural, heart-wrenching sound that tore from the very depths of your soul. You buried your face in his chest, clutching at him desperately, crying for the pain in your side, crying for the exhaustion in your bones, crying for the terrified little child inside you who had spent their whole life terrified of being left behind.
Megumi didn't shush you. He didn't tell you to calm down. He sat on the cold tile floor amidst the blood and the discarded bandages, holding you. He rocked you slowly, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other resting firmly against your back. He let you fall apart completely, creating a safe, impenetrable fortress within his arms where you were finally allowed to be shattered, loud, and inconvenient.
Hours seemed to pass before the sobs finally subsided into heavy, exhausted hiccups. Your throat was raw, your eyes swollen and burning. The adrenaline had completely left your system, leaving you weak and painfully aware of the throbbing agony in your side.
You shifted slightly in his lap, sniffing pathetically. Megumi immediately loosened his grip, looking down at you with a softness that made your chest ache.
"Are you done?" he asked quietly, a tiny, sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
You nodded numbly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I ruined your shirt," you rasped, noticing the dark stains of your tears and blood on the grey fabric.
"I don't care about the shirt," Megumi said softly. He gently shifted you off his lap, standing up and reaching down to help you to your feet. You swayed dangerously, the blood loss finally catching up to you. He caught you around the waist, easily supporting your weight.
"Come on," he murmured, his voice gentle but brook-no-argument firm. "We are going to Shoko. Right now."
The instinct to protest flared up instantly. It's 3 AM. She's sleeping. I can just bandage it tight. But as you looked up at Megumi, at the deep circles under his eyes and the lingering terror in his posture, the words died in your throat.
You swallowed hard, the word feeling foreign and incredibly heavy on your tongue.
"Okay."
Megumi let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. He didn't say anything, but the relief in his eyes was blinding. He practically carried you down the silent, moonlit hallways to the infirmary.
Shoko was awake, smoking a cigarette out the window when Megumi kicked the infirmary door open. She took one look at Megumi’s pale face and the blood soaking your side and immediately crushed the cigarette, immediately tending to you.
The process of healing was agonizing. Shoko’s reverse cursed technique was a miracle, but extracting the foreign cursed energy from the wound before healing the flesh was a torturous sensation. You lay on the sterile white cot, your teeth gritted, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead.
Through it all, Megumi sat beside the bed. He held your hand in both of his, his grip tight enough to bruise, grounding you in reality while the pain threatened to pull you under. He didn't look away, even when the wound looked its most gruesome. He stayed exactly where he promised he would be.
When it was finally over, and the flesh was knit cleanly together leaving only an angry pink scar, exhaustion hit you like a physical blow. Shoko handed you a clean t-shirt and kicked you both out, muttering something about needing sleep.
The walk back to Megumi’s dorm was slow. You leaned heavily against him, your body utterly drained. You felt hollowed out, incredibly fragile, like a glass blown too thin.
When you reached his room, he didn't turn on the overhead lights. He guided you gently to the bed, pulling back the heavy comforter. You crawled in automatically, immediately scooting to the absolute edge of the mattress, curling into a tight ball. It was muscle memory at this point.
Megumi stood at the edge of the bed, watching you in the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds. He sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his ruined shirt, and climbed into the bed.
But he didn't lie down on his side.
Instead, he moved to the center of the mattress. He reached out, grabbing you gently by the hips, and physically dragged you away from the edge, pulling you across the sheets until you were flush against him in the very middle of the bed.
You gasped softly in surprise, stiffening. "Megumi—"
"Stop," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your hair. He tangled his legs with yours, pinning you to him, ensuring there was no physical way for you to retreat to the cold periphery. "You are exactly where you belong. Take up the whole bed if you want. Kick me out if you want. But stop going all the way there."
You lay rigid in his arms for a long moment, your brain struggling to process the sensation of being held so securely, of being allowed to take up space without apologizing for it. The warmth of his body seeped into your cold skin. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your back, a rhythmic, grounding lullaby.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you forced your muscles to uncoil. You let out a long, shaky breath, letting your weight sink fully into his embrace. You closed your eyes, his scent surrounding you, pulling you down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, you woke to the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sunlight streaming into the room felt unnervingly bright.
You sat up slowly, testing the newly healed skin on your side. It twinged slightly, a dull ache, but the agonizing burn was gone. You looked around the room. You were alone in the bed, the covers tangled around your waist. You were dead center in the mattress.
The door to the small kitchenette opened, and Megumi stepped in, carrying two mugs. He looked rested, his dark hair a chaotic mess, his eyes softer than you had seen them in months.
He walked over to the bed and handed you a mug.
"Morning," he mumbled quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress near your feet.
"Morning," you replied softly, your voice still gravelly from crying the night before. You wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic mug, seeking comfort in the heat. You brought it to your lips, taking a tentative sip.
You immediately paused, your brow furrowing in confusion.
It wasn't black coffee. It wasn't the bitter, acidic brew he drank every morning. It was warm milk, steeped heavily with a sweet, floral chamomile tea, and generously laced with honey. It was incredibly sweet. It was exactly what you actually liked.
You lowered the mug, staring at the golden liquid, a sudden lump forming in your throat. You looked up at Megumi. He was watching you carefully, his dark eyes analyzing your reaction.
"You didn't make coffee," you whispered, stating the obvious.
Megumi looked down at his own mug, taking a sip of the black sludge he preferred. "I know you hate it," he said simply, not meeting your eyes. A faint, barely perceptible pink dusted the tips of his ears. "I noticed a while ago. You always grimace when you take the first sip. And you always buy that sweet stuff when we go to the convenience store, but you never drink it around me."
Your breath hitched. He had noticed. He had known, and he had been waiting for you to say something.
He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your ankle over the blankets.
"I'm not asking you to change everything in one day," Megumi continued, his voice quiet, steady, and infinitely patient. "I know it's a habit. I know you're terrified. But I am asking you to try. With me. Just with me."
He paused, a tiny, teasing glint momentarily breaking through his stoic demeanor. "For example. I was thinking of making eggs for breakfast. But I know you like pancakes, even though you always say eggs are fine. So. What do you want for breakfast?"
It was a test. A small, seemingly insignificant question, but between the two of you, it carried the weight of the world.
The instinct rose up instantly. Eggs are easier for him to make. He likes eggs. Tell him eggs. The familiar panic fluttered in your chest, the fear of demanding too much, of being an inconvenience.
You opened your mouth, the word 'eggs' forming on your lips.
But you stopped. You looked down at the sweet, warm tea in your hands, the tea he had made specifically for you, acknowledging your preferences, honoring your comfort. You looked at the hand resting gently on your ankle, grounding you, keeping you safe. You remembered the desperate way he had held you on the bloody bathroom floor, demanding that you exist loudly.
You closed your mouth. You took a deep breath, fighting the tremor in your voice. You forced yourself to meet his gaze directly.
"I…" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat, trying again. "I would really like pancakes, Megumi. If that's okay?"
The silence in the room stretched for a single, terrifying second. You braced yourself for a sigh, a roll of the eyes, a sign of annoyance that you had requested the more difficult option.
Instead, Megumi’s face broke into a smile. It wasn't his usual smirk, or a polite curve of the lips. It was a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile that reached his eyes, illuminating his features and making your heart stutter in your chest.
He stood up, taking his mug of bitter coffee with him.
"Pancakes it is," he said softly, turning back toward the kitchen. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder at you, his eyes filled with a certain amount of serenity that was so rare for megumi.
"And [Name]?"
You looked up, your hands gripping the mug tightly. "Yeah?"
It starts simply, a quick peck to your boyfriends lips as you climb into bed beside him. Then, another kiss when you crawl on top of him and settle on his chest, head tilted up to admire his beauty.
Your lips find his nose, peppering tiny kisses over the pale skin and working over his cheeks, watching his eyes flutter when you got closer to them. A few more were pressed against his lips before you glanced up and realised his eyes had flickered shut permanently. You pushed your head up and pressed more kisses against his forehead, feeling his grip on your waist loosen as he fell deeper into sleep.
You held back a quiet laugh as you felt his chest rise and fall in even rhythms, finally getting the rest it deserved after a hard day of fighting curses. As you tip off his chest and settle next to him on the bed, his arm falls to the mattress and a deep rumble emits from his chest. Yuta looks so peaceful like this, the constant frown lines on his forehead gone when he’s deep in unconsciousness, no longer worrying about the dangers of the world and trying to protect everyone he cares for.
It’s amusing how he falls asleep from only the gentle caress of your lips against his skin, and even more amusing when he wakes up a few hours later, blindly reaching for you as you watch TV and stuff your hand in a bag of popcorn.
“Baby?” He asks curiously, sitting up and blinking the sleepiness away, slender fingers reaching to touch yours. “How long was I asleep for?”
“A couple of hours.” You shrug and turn to him, breaking out in a smile seeing his disheveled hair. “You fell asleep when I was kissing you.”
His eyes find yours immediately before he groans in embarrassment. “Sorry, darling. I was tired from my mission.”
“It’s okay. It was cute, really.”
“Cute?” He croaks out.
You nod. “I’m starting to think I have magical sleeping powers.”
“If we both turned into fish, would you rather live in a tiny aquarium with me… or in the ocean with thousands of other fish that look exactly like me?”
⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff
You’ve known Katsuki long enough to understand that silence with him never really means nothing. It just means he’s deciding on whether to respond, whether to ignore you, or whether whatever just came out of your mouth deserves a reaction at all.
Right now, sitting on the floor of his room with your back resting against the side of his bed, legs stretched out lazily in front of you, controller hanging loose in your hands while the paused game casts flickering light across the walls, he’s looking at you like he’s landed somewhere between confused and mildly concerned.
“…What.”
His voice came and it’s not loud and not sharp either. Just flat like he’s giving you one chance to explain yourself before he decides this is stupid.
You don’t answer right away. You’re still staring at the screen, chin tilted slightly upward, like the question you just asked is still sitting there, like you’re replaying it in your head instead of rushing to justify it.
“If we both turned into fish,” you repeat, slower this time like maybe he’s the one who needs a second to catch up, “would you rather live in a tiny aquarium with me… or in the ocean with thousands of other fish that look exactly like me?”
The words settle. So does the silence after.
You can feel his heavy stare before you even look at him, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re messing with him or if this is actually happening.
“…Are you serious.”
You shrug lightly, one shoulder lifting as you finally glance at him, expression calm, too calm, like you don’t see anything wrong with it.
“Yeah.”
He exhales through his nose, slow, controlled, the way he does when he’s already decided he doesn’t like where this is going.
“…The hell kind of question is that,” he mutters, brows pulling together as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, controller hanging from one hand.
“It’s a normal question,” you say, turning your head just enough to look at him properly now, eyes steady, like you mean it.
“It’s not,” he shoots back immediately, sharper this time, “That’s stupid.”
You hum under your breath, unconvinced, letting your head rest back against the mattress behind you, gaze drifting back to the screen.
“You’re avoiding it.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” he says, quick, defensive in a way he won’t admit to, his fingers tightening slightly around the controller. “There’s nothing to avoid.”
“Then answer it,” you reply easily, like you’re not letting him slip past it that fast.
“No.”
You tilt your head, eyes shifting back to him, studying the way his jaw sets like he’s already done with this conversation and the way his grip tightens around the controller even though the game isn’t even moving.
“You don’t know the answer.”
“Tch. I know the answer,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue as he shifts on the edge of the bed, one foot nudging lightly against your thigh without thinking about it.
“Then say it,” you push
There’s a pause.
“…Aquarium,” he mutters finally, like he’s saying it just to get you to drop it.
You blink, sitting up a little, something in your expression changing, hmm interest, maybe, or curiosity.
“Aquarium?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s tiny,” you say, brows pulling together slightly, like you’re actually picturing it now.
“So?” he shrugs, like that part doesn’t matter.
“You’d be stuck,” you add,
“So?” he repeats, glancing at you like you’re missing something obvious.
“There’s a whole ocean,” you say, your voice quieter now, slower, like you’re thinking it through as you say it.
“And a whole lotta things that’ll eat you in it,” he fires back instantly, leaning back slightly, gaze sharper now. “Use your brain.”
You pause.
“…Okay, fair,” you admit after a second, your voice softer, because that part does make sense.
But still—
“There’s also thousands of me there,” you continue, glancing at him again, more carefully this time.
“And?” he says, immediate, like that changes nothing.
You hold his gaze.
“And?”
He stares right back, unimpressed, like he’s not budging.
“Yeah. And?”
You blink once, slower now, something quieter settling into your expression.
“…You wouldn’t get bored?”
“With what,” he asks, brows knitting tighter, like he genuinely doesn’t get where you’re going.
“With me,” you say, softer this time, not joking anymore.
That’s what makes him pause.
Just for a second, but it’s there. In the way his shoulders still slightly, in the way his grip loosens just a bit around the controller.
“The hell are you talking about,” he mutters, but there’s less bite behind it now.
“If there’s only one of me,” you explain, your voice quieter, more careful, “wouldn’t that get boring eventually?”
The room settles again.
Not the same silence as before, nope, this one lingers differently, like something shifted just enough to be noticed.
“…Are you actually hearing yourself right now,” he says, but it comes out lower, less dismissive than it should.
You don’t push. You just watch him.
“So you’d really pick the aquarium.”
He exhales slowly, leaning back on his hands, gaze flicking away for a second before returning to you.
“Yeah.”
“Even if it’s small.”
“Yeah.”
“Even if it’s just me.”
There’s a pause.
“…Yeah.”
You don’t speak right away.
You just look at him, something quiet settling in your chest, something you don’t name but don’t ignore either. Because that didn’t sound careless. It didn’t sound like something he said just to shut you up. Because it sounded simple, so simple and real.
“…Okay,” you say finally, like you’re accepting it without pulling it apart.
He narrows his eyes at you almost immediately, like he doesn’t trust how easily you let that go.
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” you reply, the corner of your mouth twitching, but your expression softer than before.
“You look like you are.”
“I’m not.”
“…You’re smiling.”
You hadn’t noticed.
Your lips press together slightly, like you’re trying to hide it, turning your gaze back to the screen.
“I’m not.”
“Tch. Liar.”
You huff quietly, adjusting your grip on the controller.
“Resume the game.”
He doesn’t move.
“…You’re weird,” he mutters after a second, but it’s quieter now, like he’s just saying it because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
Then—
“You’d pick the aquarium too,” he adds, like it’s obvious, like he already knows.
You glance at him from the side, your expression unreadable for a second.
“…Maybe.”
His head turns immediately.
“‘Maybe’ what,” he says, sharper now, like he doesn’t like that answer.
You shrug slightly, shoulders lifting just a little.
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
You smile, small and quiet, not teasing this time. “Maybe I’d pick the ocean.”
That gets his full attention.
“The hell for,” he says, leaning forward slightly, brows drawn together again.
“There’s thousands of you there,” you answer, like it’s simple.
“That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Yes you are.”
You shake your head, your gaze dropping briefly to your hands before lifting back to him, softer now.
“I’d want to see if I’d still recognize you.”
There’s a pause.
A quieter one.
“…That doesn’t even make sense,” he mutters, but there’s no real argument behind it.
“It does.”
“How.”
You look at him properly this time,no teasing or joking, just honest.
“Because you’re still you.”
He doesn’t respond and doesn't argue either. And that’s how you know it stayed somewhere.
“…You’re still weird,” he says after a second like he’s just filling the space.
“Yeah.”
You press a button, the game coming back to life, sound and movement filling the room again, but it feels distant now, like neither of you is really paying attention anymore.
Because after a moment, his foot nudges yours. Not enough to push you away. Just there. And you don’t move. Neither does he.
𓂃۶ৎ lego flowers date with your boyfriend nerd!jo which morphed into a cozy nap session <3
“babe, i don’t think that’s right…” you said, holding one of the tiny lego pieces in your palm. your boyfriend, satoru gojo, who just made a whole speech about how qualified he was in lego building, seemed as if he was challenged by some quantum physics equation.
he shushed you with a clumsy gesture, and you giggled upon how cute he looked, far too concentrated with a grumpy expression sitting softly on his pretty face.
he was troubled by not being able to grasp the perspectives shown in the instructions. visibly distressed and frustrated. huffing occasionally and blowing the white strands which veiled his eyes.
“baby what about a little break, maybe?” you asked, smiling. he groaned and threw his head back with a sharp gesture.
“i’m losing my mind.”
the date was rather unintended. your midterms were all over the place and the sleepless nights you’ve had all through the week were forming your mind into a exhausted mess. but then again, you missed your boyfriend greatly and it’d been way too long since the last time you’ve been on a date that was not under the name of ‘study date.’
that day, not being able to be apart from him no longer, you just showed up to his dorm, your face drained of color and eyes dim with tiredness. he thought you were about to pass away. you considered the same.
you threw yourself into your boyfriends warm chest, hugging him tightly by the waist.
“i feel as if my soul was yanked away.” you said with your wavering voice and dewy eyes. he just hummed and hugged you back, then grabbed you by the thighs, carrying you into his bed while caressing your sides affectionately.
satoru seemed to always be aware of your needs. he sensed any dim worry you had within you, and he, for he knew you, seemed to identify how to soothe you immediately.
and right now, what you desperately needed was his presence in any way you could possess. his warmth, his scent, his voice and his words. you hugged his neck tightly and he chuckled upon seeing how needy you were, and pressed a tender kiss on your neck.
“i got you, angel.” he said, and on his comfy bed with fuzzy blankets laying across, he placed you. the room was chilly possibly from the half-open windows and it reeked of freshly cooked ramen with his favorite seasoning.
“were you eating?” you asked with a pout, visibly upset that he didn’t call you.
“are you hungry? i thought you we studying baby, or i would call you y’know that.” he said hurriedly with a faint blush on his face.
“well i was studying but oh my god— i can’t take it anymore! literally i see dark spots everywhere thought i was going mad at some point.” you said with a frown forming on your face.
he lay his palm on your temple and brushed the hair in there, and then his slender fingers started to massage your head slowly with tender movements. the other hand cupped the back of your neck, and he, with a shy attempt, pressed a light and short kiss upon your lips.
“do you want to rest?” he asked with no urgency.
“yeah, but i want to spend some time with you too— i missed you s’much babe.” you sulked and he giggled, murmuring a silent ‘cutie’ before nodding.
“i missed you more angel, i was just trying to give you some space. you said you couldn’t study with my face in front of you, remember?”
“yes i just want to kiss all over your face instead of chasing after the stupid words on the textbook, sorry for that.” you lurched forward trying to get up and he held your waist securely, his laughter echoing across the room with his sweet voice. he grabbed your cheeks with all his gentleness, and kissed your nose.
“it tickles,” you breathed out with a giggle, and he started pressing kisses all upon your face.
“baby i get it okay,” you almost screamed pushing him, and he, instead, pulled you closer, capturing you by the waist and standing between your legs.
“love you so much.” he said, and you replied with a shy giggle, which he only nuzzled his head against yours.
“are you hungry?” he asked again, and you simply shook your head. “would you want to nap?”
“not yet,” you replied, and he nodded, turning around to search for something on his desk.
after quite some time, he showed you some lego flowers that seemed as if they were bought recently.
satoru scratched his nape and fixed his crooked glasses with his empty hand, mumbling some unclear words.
“i actually planned making these and giving it to you later, but maybe we can build them together?” he asked with the familiar uncertain tone in his voice. you smiled and simply nodded thinking it would be an adorable date, snuggled warmly in bed while lazily building some flowers.
well, you’ve never took your overly competitive boyfriend into consideration.
his eyes darted to you tenderly, but once faced with the obstacle before him, the lego, they burned fiercely with a mad glint. you also were frustrated with the poorly written instructions but yours was rather faint in comparison, considering he almost lost his mind over some plastic pieces.
“babyy,” you dragged the word on your tongue and kicked his thigh with so little force.
“hold on angel, you see the piece here? once i figure out where to put it the petals are done.”
you pouted and threw yourself back into the soft blankets, laying on top of them and glancing at the walls of his dorm, full of posters with the comics he was so fond of.
the strands of warm sun streaming in beneath his light curtains fell upon your face, and you winced, turning your face towards him instead.
“toruu,” you tried again, persistent in a way he adored.
he, after a few more heavy groans, faced you with a scowl formed on the unbelievably perfect features.
“so this thing is— impossible. y’know i’m usually really good with these but baby— the instructions are so unclear and i think there’s been some miscalculations about the lengths of—“
you simply grabbed the soft cheeks of him, puffy from the ramen he’d just eaten, and pressed a light kiss on his lips. he was sitting cross legged on the bed and with his huge figure, he had to almost fold himself in half to kiss you properly since you were laying down.
he grabbed your neck with his warm hand, the other sitting firmly on your waist, deepening the kiss.
when you pulled away to take a look at his face, you were met with the flushed cheeks and widened eyes of his, his glasses sat crooked on his nose. he reached for another kiss but you giggled and pushed him by the chest.
“now that is not fair.” he said, his lips curling into a soft smile.
“what’s unfair is you tricked me into a date night and have been fiddling with those plastic things instead.”
upon your words, he almost threw the pieces away across the room.
“just thought my girl wanted the flowers,” he murmured with his puppy-like look worn knowingly on his face.
“well turns out your girl just wants his boyfriends attention.” you pouted jokingly and he melted right away, pushing his face against the warm skin on your neck and pressing light kisses in there.
“and what my girl demands she should get,” he pushed away the tiny lego pieces.
satoru then lay next to you while taking off his glasses, his enormous body stretched out across the bed with his fluffy pajamas. he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer, burying his face into your stomach.
“we can go back to legos after cuddling toru. i also could use some napping right now, do you know how many times i’ve pulled an all nighter this week? thought i would pass out at some point.”
he simply nodded against you, hugging you tighter by the waist and almost crushing you with his toned arms.
“okay so you remember the decision i’ve made back in the start of the semester? that i was going to study daily? i think i might want to do exactly that.” you said. “i genuinely can’t keep up with all of those slides.”
he hummed for you to keep talking.
“i would really want you to be my study partner but it’s kind of impossible with that stupidly handsome face you got. i mean, who could ever concentrate?” he merely giggled upon your words and shook his head, his hair brushing your chin slightly and making you laugh.
“and what makes you think i could resist that angelic face of yours?” he asked. you laughed, cozy with him in your arms and chilly spring breeze creeping through the window, caressing your figure with no urgency.
he, sensing how you needed a little nap, started talking about a new comic he’s been interested in lately, introducing the plot to you and honestly, it did seem interesting but with his soothing voice, the lack of sleep prevented you from engaging in his one-sided rambling. all you could do was to nod and hum between his words, although you noted to ask him about it more later for you also enjoyed the comics he liked.
you caressed his soft white strands. “my hair, it’s gotten longer.” he said. “would you cut it?”
“mhmm,” you barely replied, far too sleepy, pressing a tender kiss upon his head as a proper answer instead.
the traced his fingertips on your hips, their warmth luring you further into sleep.
“you’re really sleepy huh?” he asked, and you again kissed him instead of replying. he chuckled lowly. “okay pretty, i’ll wake you up hm?”
“one hour later.” you whispered. he tightened his hold, his arms etched around your waist.
it was warm and cozy and full of him. everything you’ve longed for over the days you’ve spent without him.
his scent was so pleasant and familiar and it made you feel secure. his embrace was overwhelming in its ease.
you sighed out with comfort. he kissed right below your breasts, where his head was located.
“do you want to watch a movie later?” he asked, and you nodded. it sounded nice.
“okay angel, we’ll watch a movie while doing the lego hm? promise i’l be chill this time.” he chuckled with a muffled voice since his face was pressed against your soft sweater.
“you’re the smartest baby, these stupid plastic things could never defeat you.” you replied.
“they almost did though…” he silently murmured. you simply chuckled and buried your face into his fluffy pillows. he tangled his legs with yours.
beneath the warm spring sun, you fell asleep with satoru in your arms, holding you gently and whispering sweet nothings to you. the lego flowers all forgotten.
it had been way too long since gojo left. you knew he was busy with work, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. so when you heard the sound of your front door opening, you practically sprinted across the room.
“toru!” you called out, eyes lighting up as you saw that stupid white hair and those stupidly pretty eyes behind his even stupider sunglasses.
but just as you reached out, you smacked into something. something very solid. you recoiled, blinking in surprise.
oh. infinity. you should’ve known.
“uh-uh,” gojo wagged a finger, smirking. “password first.”
you sighed dramatically, crossing your arms. “seriously?”
“do i look like i’m joking?”
“you always look like you’re joking.”
“that’s because i’m a funny guy.”
“you’re something, alright.”
“aw, babe, you’re so in love with me,” he cooed, placing a hand over his heart.
you rolled your eyes, but the way your lips twitched betrayed your amusement. still, you weren’t about to let him win that easily. so, instead of giving in, you decided to be difficult.
“fine. password is… gojo sucks.”
his smirk widened. “mm, wrong answer.”
you tried again. “password is… my boyfriend is a menace and i should’ve found someone else by now.”
“cold. so cold,” he said, feigning a dramatic shiver.
“password is…” you trailed off, tapping a finger to your chin, “satoru gojo is a loser.”
gojo gasped, pressing a hand to his chest like you’d physically wounded him. “okay, now you’re just being mean.”
“oh, now i’m being mean?”
he gave you a pointed look. “say the real password and i’ll think about forgiving you.”
you huffed but finally relented, stepping closer to his barrier with a playful smile. “i love you, toru.”
in an instant, infinity dropped. before you could blink, he had you wrapped up in the tightest hug ever, lifting you off the ground as he spun you around.
“toru!” you laughed, gripping onto his shoulders.
“i missed you,” he groaned into your neck, refusing to let go. “so, so much.”
“you were gone for two weeks.”
“might as well have been forever.”
you rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at the way he clung to you, like he was never going to let go. you ruffled his hair, chuckling when he leaned into your touch.
“next time, just let me hug you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple.
“hmm.” he grinned against your skin. “nah. making you say ‘i love you’ first is way more fun.”
this is a drabble archive account for creamflix - this is a repost and not something stolen. i am not exclusively active on this account, nor do i take requests on here. if you want to use this idea for a fic or series, please ask for permission first.
