Which TsumTsum stories did you enjoy? All of them are so chaotic in the best way possible it was basically a sitcom.
out of all of them? I am of course extremely biased towards Malleus' card story, in which he very proudly shows off to his tsum that he knows how to use this arcane tool the humans call a (each syllable carefully pronounced) "mi-cro-wave", almost drops it in the washing machine, and then throws it a big special party where everyone fights over who gets to dance with Malletsum. I still don't know how exactly they were dancing with a six-inch blob. it's magical.
however, it's hard to top "Jadetsum helps Jade hide a body except the twist is that it was actually setting him up to take the fall". watch out, you little bean, Jade'll get you back someday...
Katsuki has already turned seventeen by the time you wake up from your coma. Despite the late nights he spends at the hospital by your side, when you wake up, he is inevitably, at school. You wake up to Mitsuki Bakugo holding your hand.
Tags/CW: Bakugo x fem! Reader, high school sweethearts, estab! relationship, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, reader in a coma after the war, class 2-A is a soft menace, mom (in law lmao) Mitsuki is mothering, spoilers for season 8.
Despite it being hard to accept at the state you find yourself in, or even realise it at first, Mitsuki is the one by your bedside when you wake up.
For a second you’re convinced you’re dreaming. The room is too bright, the sheets too stiff, and Katsuki’s mom is sitting there like she fought her way past three nurses and a steel door just to sit and stare at you. Which, knowing her, she probably did.
Her arms are crossed, but her foot is tapping like she’s been waiting a long time. Like she’s been worried. And that solemn look on her face is screaming an apology you don’t recognise yet.
“’Bout time,” she mutters, voice sharp but thin around the edges. “You scared the hell out of us, kid.”
Your throat tightens as you glance, puzzled, around the room. It’s empty, aside from Mitsuki's chair, your bed, and the iv attached to the tender inside of your elbow. No friends, no parents, not a begrunting boyfriend… just Mitsuki and a hospital room you don’t recognise.
In a swift movement, she clasps your hand inside her palms. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Your parents couldn’t make it to Japan yet.” she says and you blink at her.
The lump in your throat starts bubbling in pain. Your lip quivers next, eyes watering at the fraction of a second. The moment you try to move, the dull ache in your ribs reminds you why you’re here in the first place.
“I’m so sorry,”
You try to speak, but find your lips feel like they’re glued together. It hurts when you pry them and it hurts even worse when you try to speak.
“Ka–”
Panic ensues at the sound of your voice. How long have you been here? You don’t even recognise your own voice. Where you could hear softness, you now hear raspiness, broken sounds that can’t form a word.
But still, you want to ask—The last thing you remember is watching Katsuki fall to the ground with his chest torn, you lurching towards Shigaraki with all you had and white hot pain everywhere in your body.
“Kats–Kaah–”
Mitsuki’s eyes flick to your abdomen, the monitors attached to you, then back to you again. Softer, barely “Katsuki? He usually doesn’t leave until he passes out sitting up. Brat’s got stubbornness.”
“Miss—Mitsuk—Mitsuki, my m—mom,”
The sound rips out of you like gravel dragged across concrete, and Mitsuki is already moving— one hand on your shoulder, the other hovering like she wants to fix something she can’t reach.
“Hey, hey— don’t force it,” she says, voice dropping into that hushed, frantic register only mothers have when something hurts their kid. Or a kid who might as well be theirs.
She reaches for the small cup of ice chips on the tray next to your bed, scooping a few with the spoon and pressing it gently to your lips. “Just this, sweetheart. Slow.”
The cold hits your tongue, sharp and clean, and for a moment it’s the only thing keeping you together. Everything else feels like it’s drifting —your memories, your breath, the distant echo of Nejire screaming your name before everything went dark.
Mitsuki watches you swallow, her jaw tight, eyes shining with things she will never say out loud.
“You’ve been out for a few months,” she adds quietly. “Masaru is trying to get ahold of your folks, along with the doctors but… you know how time zones are. And… circumstances.” Her mouth twists like she hates how uptight she’s being. Like practiced softness physically pains her. “We didn’t want you waking up alone.”
Your chest pulls tight. It shouldn’t mean as much as it does. But it does.
Your fingers clutch weakly at the blanket. “K–” The name falls apart in your throat again.
Mitsuki seems to understand anyway.
“He’s alive,” she says firmly. “He’s at school and he’s healing, but he’s alive. Stubborn little shit tried to pretend he wasn’t feeling okay just so they wouldn’t kick him out of your room last night. He’s been visiting everyday.”
Your breath shudders. Relief hits so hard you feel dizzy.
“And— just so you don’t freak out later—” Mitsuki adds, rubbing your hand with her thumb in a rare, almost guilty motion, “he might start crying a lot.”
That makes you freeze.
Mitsuki sighs, leaning back in the chair like the confession took something out of her. She stops herself from telling you the doctors had announced to everyone that you would probably not make it, not too long ago.
“Don’t tell him I said that. He’ll yell at both of us.”
She glances toward the door, then back at you. “He’s gonna be pissed you woke up without him here. Believe me. But, we’ll tell him after classes are over. You okay with that sweetheart?”
You nod, or at least you think you do. Your head barely moves, just a slow dip that makes the world tilt a little. You’re not sure if you’re agreeing or just reacting to the tenderness in her voice — something you’ve never quite heard directed at you like this, so softly, before.
“Good,” Mitsuki murmurs, like she was bracing for you to argue. Her hand squeezes yours gently, thumb brushing over the back in a slow, steady rhythm that feels like it’s meant to keep you anchored.
You swallow again, rough and painful. The word “classes” sticks in your mind like a burr. Katsuki is… at school. The school is alright if that’s the case, and maybe, your friends are too, your teachers, All Might. There’s so much you want to ask, but such little strength inside you.
Mitsuki watches your face carefully. “He wanted to skip,” she says, rolling her eyes as if the memory frustrates her. “Said he didn’t care about his damn education if you were—” She cuts herself off. Too sharp. Too honest.
Another small, guilty sigh. “Anyway. We made him go. The teachers insisted. Kid was a wreck. No sleep, no food… I swear he almost blew up a vending machine because someone told him to ‘keep his chin up.’”
Despite the pain, a weak ghost of a laugh bubbles in your chest — a tiny sound, but it pulls at your ribs like something tearing.
Mitsuki immediately notices. “Easy. Easy, sweetheart,” she whispers, leaning in, steadying you with a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to talk yet. You don’t have to do anything yet.”
But you want to. You want to ask what happened, how bad it was, whether Katsuki’s really okay or just putting on a front because that’s what he does when the world is falling apart around him.
You try again, voice scraping out of you like rough smoke: “H–how…?”
She shakes her head fast, stopping you before the sentence can hurt you more. “Later. When Katsuki’s here.” Her voice softens, unbearably so. “He deserves to hear you first.”
Your breath stutters, the weight of that landing somewhere deep and tender.
Mitsuki reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair from your forehead. The gesture is so gentle it barely feels real.
“We’ll tell him after school,” she repeats softly. “He’ll come running the second he hears. And he’s gonna be loud, and dramatic, and probably hug you too hard. But he needs this. He needs you.”
Her voice cracks just a little on that last word. Barely noticeable, unless you’re looking for it. And you are.
“Rest now,” she adds, settling back into her chair but not letting go of your hand.
______
Later that evening, the hallway outside your room is louder than it should be for a hospital — muffled bickering, restless footsteps, a sharp whisper that’s definitely Kaminari complaining he’s been standing too long. With your eyes barely opening from your earlier slumber, you can hear Kirishima gently shushing him. Someone — Mina, probably — keeps insisting they should “just peek in real quick because what if she’s awake?”
You also catch the hissed argument that’s delivered as a response “Dude, stop— she might be asleep again!” and “I’m not stopping, you stop!”
Their silhouettes shuffle under the doorframe’s faint light, shadows overlapping like they can’t decide whether to crowd closer or bolt down the hall.
You blink slow, the world tilting for a moment, and the ceiling swims into focus. Your throat is dry. Your body feels like it’s made of bandages and cement. But your brain? Your brain catches up just enough to realize:
They’re here. All of them. A soft exhale escapes you— barely a sound, but apparently loud enough for the enhanced senses of teens with superpowers.
Mitsuki nods her head towards the door and chuckles. “They can’t wait to see you,” The commotion outside stops all at once, like someone hit pause. Then—
“Did you hear that?!”
“Kaminari, shut up—”
“Wait, wait— I think she’s awake—”
“Katsuki’s gonna kill us if we go in—”
“Oh my god. Just. Check!”
Kirishima’s voice breaks through the chaos; firm, gentle, leader-of-the-chaos-crew mode “Guys. Calm down. We’ll knock first.”
There’s a beat of silence and then three different knuckles rap on the door at the exact same time. Your chest shakes with a tiny, pained laugh that’s followed by a thunderous cough. The whispering begins again immediately.
“Bro— I said one person should knock!”
“That wasn’t me!”
“You literally have the loudest knuckles, Sero!”
“How do you even know that—”
Someone sighs. Hard. You recognise the sound as Izuku, doing that tight little anxious inhale before he tries to be responsible.
“Should I… um… should I ask Recovery Girl if we’re allowed—?”
“No, if Kacchan shows up and we’re gone, he’ll blast us into space—”
“Oh he’s definitely gonna show up—”
You try shifting, just enough to look toward the door. A small movement, but enough to tug at something deep in your gut. You wince, which apparently sends the hallway into frenzy.
And before they manage to organize themselves, one brave soul reaches for the door handle.
Mina’s whisper—undoubtedly its hers—cuts through the noise “Okay, on three—”
You have exactly one second to process that, and tighten your hold around Mitsuki’s hand as hard as you can, before a hand curls around the knob and another, much sharper voice snaps from down the hall.
“Touch that door and I swear to god you’re dead.”
Every single voice outside vanishes. You don’t even need to see him to know who said it. Katsuki.
Last time you laid eyes on him he was in a puddle of his own blood, chest torn, right arm destroyed. The thought alone is making your jaw tremble.
Your stomach flips; your eyes do that stupid thing where they well up so much that they sting and your heart kicks into a frantic rhythm, strong enough that the monitor beside you responds with a panicked series of beeps.
For a fragment, you come to believe this is a dream. An afterlife experience. Some sick and twisted purgatory. Some strange, cruel limbo replaying the moments before everything went black.
Mitsuki reacts before you do. She leans in, her free hand hovering near your shoulder as if she can physically hold you together while the monitor continues its frantic beeping. “Easy,” she murmurs, voice low. “Breathe, sweetheart. You’re fine.”
Her thumb presses gently into the back of your hand, grounding you.
The footsteps outside slow, the scrape of rubber soles against the linoleum deliberate now, controlled in that way Katsuki walks when he’s trying to stop himself from running. There’s a muffled scuffle—someone tripping over someone else during their attempt to scramble out of his path.
The doorknob turns. Not violently, but slowly. Carefully. Like he’s afraid the world behind it might shatter if he enters too fast.
The door opens halfway, and Katsuki steps inside.
He’s out of breath, but it's the kind where he’s trying very hard not to show. His hair, shorter than you remember, is a mess from whatever fight he had with the wind on the way here. His uniform shirt is wrinkled, sleeves pushed up his forearms in uneven rolls, and his tie is gone entirely.
But none of that is what gets you. It’s the way he stops actually. Abruptly.
And not because Mitsuki is in his way or because your friends are whisper-squabbling just outside the door. He stops because he sees you.
Awake.
His eyes widen first, a stunned flicker of disbelief that washes over his face before he can hide it. Then everything in him seems to go slack for a moment — shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, the tension dissolving so suddenly it looks like his legs might give out.
“No fucking way,” he breathes, so quietly it barely reaches the room. His gaze flits across your face, ignoring his mother’s plea for decent language.
Whatever strength he had walked in with drains from his posture all at once. His breath catches on a sound too close to a sob, and he stumbles two steps forward before genuinely stopping himself, like he’s afraid he might do the wrong thing and make you hurt again.
The monitor chooses that exact moment to spike again, a sharp, accusing beep-beep-beep echoing through the walls.
Katsuki flinches, just barely. His eyes flash to the machine, then to your hand clutching Mitsuki’s, then back up to you. Something like guilt — real, aching guilt — tightens his expression. His head jerks toward yours and in the same instant he looks completely gutted—like the beeping is some damning confirmation that you’re in pain because of him, that all those months of him replaying the footage of you almost getting torn apart in half, ignoring every warning from people who told him not to, all led to this moment right here: you trembling, terrified, trying to hold yourself together.
He tries to say your name, but it dissolves into a choked gasp. Tears are already spilling, hot and unguarded, not even wiped away. Katsuki Bakugo—who never cries—can’t stop crying.
Instinct drags you forward. You try to sit up, to reach for him, anything to close the distance, but the muscles in your abdomen seize. A bolt of pain rips through you so sharply your vision whites out, and you collapse back into the bed with a strangled breath.
“Stay still!” Mitsuki catches your shoulder before you can tear something, her voice shaking now too. “Sweetheart, you can’t move—”
Your hand slips from hers anyway, desperate to get to him.
“Hey—” His voice cuts off, a sob and cracks, embarrassing him. He swallows hard, trying again. “Hey. Take it easy, you dummy.”
He says it softly. Too softly for it to be an insult.
Katsuki kneels swiftly beside the bed, and his scarred hand hovers over yours.
When he finally touches your hand, it’s feather-light, trembling with the same fear and relief burning in his eyes. He doesn’t grip, doesn’t hold too tight, doesn’t let go either. He rests his palm over yours, as if he’s anchoring himself to you while afraid that even the slightest pressure might hurt you.
You notice he’s holding a flower inside his other hand. Your eyes widen at the sight and he looks down at his hand too, muttering “It’s for you. A ‘get well soon’”
“Katsu–tsuk–ki” you breathe out, shakingly.
Your fingers twitch, wanting to wrap around his hand, to pull him closer, to fix the broken edges of him the way he’s holding onto you. You try to shift, to ease closer, but your abdomen flares with pain and you freeze, groaning softly.
He freezes too, instantly still, and looks at you with wide, frantic eyes. “Hey… hey, hey, I—I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice cracking, almost pleading.
Then, slowly, he adjusts himself so he can lean against you without putting weight on your ribs. His hand over yours flexes, releases, flexes again, as if he can’t decide whether to grip or just stay connected to you.
His tears fall freely now, soaking your fingers, and the sound of him crying forces tears to come out of your eyes too.
All you can do is squeeze his hand back, as much as your pain will allow, and whisper his name again.
He takes it, eve though his own hand aches like it’s being pierced, because the touch is not just an ember that you’re alive. It’s the undeniable fact that you’re awake.
And Katsuki is just so, so happy that this one good thing happens to him, he doesn’t even mind that the rest of the class storms inside minutes later and everyone sees him crying.
Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist
~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work //
Likes and reblogs are so appreciated but if you you liked this you can let me know in the comments <3
distracting toji while he's on the phone...♡ (rough!toji x sweet!fem reader)
tojis halfway through a phone call when you climb onto the couch beside him, immediately curling into his side while he keeps talking, one arm stretched across the back of the cushions behind you and his phone pressed to his ear.
its something about money, something about work, something thats got his brows pulled together while he listens with that oh so familiar rough expression.
"yeah, I heard you," he mutters "then tell 'im I aint payin extra."
meanwhile, youre completely occupied with him.
your fingers find the side of his hair first, gently combing through the shorter strands near his temple while your cheek rests against his shoulder. toji keeps listening while you continue absent mindedly playing with him. your hand drifts lower, tracing the line of his jaw before finding his collar, smoothing it down and then fiddling with it again for no reason other than you just felt like touching it.
"because that aint what we agreed on." he says into the phone, voice steady despite the fact youve now moved on to his hands.
you turn one of them over in your lap, running your thumb along old scars and rough knuckles, tracing every line in his skin with a quiet concentration while the conversation continues.
the man on the other end keeps talking, and toji tries listening.
then your fingers slide to the rolled sleeves of his top, adjusting them before trailing slowly down his forearm, following the muscle there with light touches that dont mean much to you and mean everything to him.
his jaw tightens slightly. "yeah," he mutters into the phone, "mhm"
by now youve found his hand again, interwining your fingers with his, turning them, tracing the shape of his thumb while leaning a little more heavily into his side.
youre not even looking at him, youre just happy sitting there, all soft and sweet, quietly occupying yourself with whatever part of him happens to be within your reach.
the silence on the other end of the call stretches.
"...you still there?" the guy asks.
toji blinks once, realizing he hasnt heard a godamn thing for the last minute. his eyes drop to you where youre curled against him, happily playing with his fingers while resting your cheek on his shoulder.
"yeah." he says "keep talkin."
but his free hand is already settling over yours, thumb brushing across your knuckles while he looks down at you for a second longer than necessary, then he leans over and presses a rough distracted kiss against the top of your head without interrupting the call, squeezing your hand once before settling back into the couch.
toji still isnt listening to the man on the phone, not with you tucked into his side playing with his hair, his sleeves, his hands, every soft little touch way too distracting.
i think kiri will only mark you — like full blown, uncontrolled marking — when he's overstimulated...
going raw for the first time and you can tell he's barely holding himself together, his thrusts are shallow and his eyes glossed over like he's trying not to break.
having to coax him through each movement, kissing his jawline and thumbing away the tears in his eyes as he moves inside you, mouth agape like it needs something to cling to.
so you give that to him.
guiding his head to the crook of your neck and whispering 'bite' against the shell of his ear. you expect him to ignore you, give a warning thrust, laughing as he tells you he 'isn't that far gone.'
but it doesn't happen, and instead you're graced with teeth digging into your shoulder.
it's gentle at first, like he's holding onto the slightest bit of restraint, but when you clench around him, back arched and moaning in his ear — he knows it's an invitation to be a little rougher <3
a/n: to go off this blurb from 🦈 nonnie, marking supremacy | masterlist
i think kiri will only mark you — like full blown, uncontrolled marking — when he's overstimulated...
going raw for the first time and you can tell he's barely holding himself together, his thrusts are shallow and his eyes glossed over like he's trying not to break.
having to coax him through each movement, kissing his jawline and thumbing away the tears in his eyes as he moves inside you, mouth agape like it needs something to cling to.
so you give that to him.
guiding his head to the crook of your neck and whispering 'bite' against the shell of his ear. you expect him to ignore you, give a warning thrust, laughing as he tells you he 'isn't that far gone.'
but it doesn't happen, and instead you're graced with teeth digging into your shoulder.
it's gentle at first, like he's holding onto the slightest bit of restraint, but when you clench around him, back arched and moaning in his ear — he knows it's an invitation to be a little rougher <3
a/n: to go off this blurb from 🦈 nonnie, marking supremacy | masterlist
“c’mon.” eijiro cups your cheek. “it’s time for bed.” he raises his eyebrows at your curled up form on the couch.
“‘m not moving.” you cuddle in deeper.
“don’t gotta.” he slides and arm under you. “i’ll carry you.”
“eijiiiii lemme sleep here.” you pout, cracking your eyes open.
“your backs gonna hurt in the morning and you’re gonna wake up in the middle of the night crying cause i’m not next to you.” a small smile cracks across his face.
“mmm! then sleep out here with me.” you scrunch your brows.
“nah, c’mon pretty girl.” he scoops you up and starts to carry you to the bedroom. “know you wanna have your goodnight kisses.” he leans down and presses his lips to yours.
you lean up, keeping your lips pressed to his, your tongue sliding along the seam of his lips looking for an opening. he chuckles and you slide your tongue in, brushing it against his and whine softly.
“shh shh shh.” he kisses the side of your mouth. “let’s get you all tucked in.”
once he has you under the blankets, he curls in next to you, letting you perch yourself on his chest and presses your lips to his again. he lets you kiss him until you’re falling asleep on his mouth before he shifts you down with your ear pressed to his heart, letting the steady thumping lull you to sleep.
kirishima getting hard while you're straddling his lap and making out together
"c'mere baby.." eijirou mumbling against your lips while pulling you into his lap, your thighs settling on the sides of his hips as he cups a hand under your thigh, the other behind your head pushing your lips together
tugging on his hair and tilting his head back to get access to his already semi-bitten neck, kissing and sucking down to his collarbone as he groans into your ear, pushing your hips down while doing so
as you reach the end of his shoulder you pull away to look at his flushed face, "you okay?" half giggling as you tuck his hair behind his ear while he whines from the lack of contact
looking at you with half-lidded eyes he glances down at your lips coated with a layer of his spit as he runs his hands up and down your back under your shirt, stopping periodically to knead at your hips
"why are you stopping gorgeous.. what's wrong" slurring his speech while moving his head up to reach your lips before you cup his face and go in to kiss him, sighing at the contact before pausing slightly to adjust yourself against him
huffing against his lips, you keep moving around to find a better spot to rest again, "ei turn your quirk off, it's distracting" pulling back to look at his shameless face "that's not my quirk baby" he says while grinning against your pulse point, sniffing your scent
"what are you talki-.." before realizing and pushing him back to look between your bodies, "oh" looking at the hard bulge pushed against your own clothed area that's already leaking through his boxers
"let's go somewhere more comfortable baby.." muttering while nipping your ear and grinding your hips onto his own
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'.
jbbartram-illu
dededos
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kaledo-art
stormborns
