notes: i'm not changing themes 🧍♀️ i just really like the 'lol im dying' pic and pastel pink didn't match it. also, i hate the title and summary :')
- bakugo katsuki -
katsuki, your boyfriend whom you were positive was always a heavy sleeper, wakes up to the faint sound of you crying.
he turns his head to face your slightly crouched back, seemingly hiding your tears from him.
you feel him shift towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist. you feel the immense warmth of his chest pressed against your back as he pulls you even closer.
"oi..." he calls with a tired voice, partly a whisper as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, the vibration from his baritone voice dancing on your skin as he speaks,"if you were having such a shitty day, why didn't you tell me?"
katsuki waits for an answer, but he only hears faint hics and whimpers instead. "i'm turning the lights onー"
you firmly grasp his forearm before he could get up.
you could talk to katsuki, but right now you're just tired, too drained to even speak of your pain.
katsuki scoffs, feigning annoyance. "can you at least face me then?"
it takes you a minute before stirring until your eyes, glossed with tears, meet his tired half-lidded ones.
he presses the back of your head against his chest with his hand, pulling you into a tight embrace. "tomorrow... we'll talk."
you give a small nod in response.
in a few hours, you'll be woken up by a warm hand cupping your cheek.
katsuki will pamper you with everything he has. when you open up to him, he'll listen and take in everything with minimal cursing here and there, but you don't mind anyway.
and if you cry while talking, he'll be silent and even avert his gaze from you, but he'll place his hand on yours, softly rubbing his thumb against your knuckles, and that's when you know it will get better.
but for now, this is where you'll stayー in katsuki's hold, where the heat from his body completely enveloping yours is enough to hush your crying and lull you to sleep.
in the tiny space you've made for yourself, where you crouched to weep in silence alone, someone has intruded your circle, but it is someone who cares deeply. katsuki knows of your pain, and somehow for now, that is enough.
- midoriya izuku -
izuku stretches an arm across the bed and slides his hand over the sheets, searching for your sleeping figure, but his hand only feels the warmth of the sheets and reaches nothing more.
he jolts up, his heart racing with anxiety as he stares over the space you left on the bed.
he's about to dash out of the room to search for you, but you open the door before he reaches it.
he sighs in relief, "y/n! where were you?"
"sorry, i just.. went to the bathroom."
there was something different about your voiceー it sounded frail and almost exhausted, as if those were the only few words you could utter right now.
"a-are you okay?"
there was barely any light in the room, but izuku could clearly see your worn out eyes, your eyelashes wet with tears, and though earlier your smile was the last thing he caught sight of before falling asleep, your lips now tremble before izuku.
he gently takes your hand and leads you to the bed. he doesn't turn the lights on, afraid that it'll strain your eyes somehow.
and you're now sat on the bed, watching izuku frantically prepare a cup of hot tea, water, your comfort snacks, and a box of tissue. he also offers you his hoodie, and you just take it without saying a word.
"you don't have to force yourself to talk, y/n.." he places a hand on yours and gives you a reassuring smile. "but i'll be here to listen if you wanna talk!"
after a few minutes, you've decided to finally talk to izuku, who's been patiently waiting all this time.
there was absolutely no doubt that izuku was listening attentively the whole time, seeing how he himself started crying too when your voice broke into a soft sob mid-sentence.
but izuku only uses the tissues for you, he'll pat it gently on your damp cheeks, and (if you allow him) izuku will help you blow your nose, and he does not feel an ounce of disgust when he does it having a runny nose when you're crying that much is perfectly NORMAL.
the more you talked to izuku, the more weight has been easily carried off your shoulders.
a few hours ago, it was lonely, cold, and miserableー the weight on your chest doesn't go away at all, never has, no matter how much you've weeped and sobbed.
but this is differentー this gentle and soft thing, the featherlight feeling of being able to share your pain with someone who's a familiarity, someone who cares.
when izuku embraces you, it lasts, and he was always the last to let go.
tags: ph!katsuki bakugo x gn reader, no warnings, black reader in mind, not proofread!!
w.count: 1.1k
a/n: what listening to sza does to a mf- no fr this was supposed to be short and sweet but i accidentally made it a oneshot whoops- stole a paragraph from my shinso wip but that’s okay— lowercase intended bc this was not supposed to be longer than 500 words…
i just think that pro hero katsuki coming home from work with his eyebrows knitted as he unlocks the door to his apartment-
it’s late, the sun had set hours ago and it was time for the moon to occupy the sky. he didn’t expect you to be awake, since he was particularly tired himself. his aching body pops with tension as he stretches his arms, lifting them above his head as his shirt rides up and exposes just a hint of his stomach (yeah he has a v-line but that’s only half the point).
and then there’s you, waiting for him on the couch with sleepy eyes. you’re tucked in on yourself, soft yawns escaping every so often as an alluring wave of sleep slowly washes over you. but, even then, the second he’s settled by the front door and enveloped in the warmth of your shared apartment you’re on him in seconds, hugging him tight while his arms stay locked by his side. he lets you get a few kisses in, peppering them on his grimy cheeks, then his nose, then his chin, until he’s pushing you away by pressing his palm into the curve of your cheek. he grumbles, something about ‘waiting till i’m clean’ but beneath the layers of dirt and sweat, you see a twinge of blotchy pink creeping up his neck.
he’s tired, lugging the weight of himself as well as the unforgiving cruelty of the villain he just fought, hoping to wash away his regrets of today with the same washcloth he uses on his warm skin. as dirt flows down the drain so does his tension, warm water cascading down the expanse of muscles on his back. his shoulders relax, warm water streaming through the budding hairs of his undercut. and then, only then, does he consider using your body wash. your shampoo. it smells like you, and he can only have so much of you at a time. he lathers soap onto his skin with the same gentleness you’d use to kiss him, between his shoulder blades when he’s facing away from you, against the scar that runs across his knuckles. he imagines that instead of his hands they’re your own, feathering touches across his abdomen, fingers tracing the contours of his skin while he denies being ticklish— despite the dimples threatening to ripple through the mound of his cheek.
katsuki could get used to this, the asphyxiating sensation of a long, hard day at work rolling away with mere circular movements of lathered soap. but he has someone to get back to.
the real thing is always better than his imagination, after all.
reluctantly, he makes his way out of the shower, steam fogging up the mirror as he stared his doppelgänger in the eye. a mirrored version of himself, with scars on the opposite side. he wraps a Dynamight towel around his waist, lifting his arm to rub away at the final remnants of eyeliner smeared down his cheek with his wrist. his pointer finger reaches out to place a message on the fogged mirror: a tiny grenade. similar to the ones he’d draw instead of the dot in the ‘i’ from the name ‘Dynamight’ when giving out signatures.
katsuki erupts from the confines of the clouded bathroom, steam following behind him as he leaves wet footsteps against the hardwood flooring. you must have moved from your spot on the couch, as his gaze didn’t catch you anywhere near the cushioned area. instead, he finds you in your shared bedroom. you hold a pillow close to your chest, a Dynamight plushie by the side of your head as you nuzzle the silk with your cheek. even when half asleep, you perk up from his presence. slowly, your head cocks to the side, shifting your gaze from the doorframe to your soulmate. your lips quirk upward as your soft eyes soften even more. your smile nearly knocks him off his feet.
“hey,” your voice is almost incomprehensible against the pillow, but he catches it anyway. you lazily raise your hand to wave, just in case. “you look like you had a tough day.”
a dagger of warmth shoots through katsuki’s heart, beating and writhing against the confines of his rib cage. with his tongue tied, he hums in response, low in his throat. how did you always know?
you hum back, nodding gently as katsuki’s weight dips the edge of the bed. unraveled from his towel now, he flips open the cap to his favorite moisturizer. pregnant silence washes over you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. you can hear his breathing, the sound of lotion between his fingers, the sound of air escaping through his plump lips in the form of a tranquil sigh. looking at him now, you see an arrangement of moles and freckles littering katsuki’s back.
it reminds you of early summer, when katsuki would burn instead of bronze beneath the sun’s rays, whereas your skin would brown. he’d tell you how breathtaking you looked in the form of stolen glances, and you’d soak in the praise just as much as your skin soaked in the sun. the ocean would bellow and cheer beneath your feet, cold and refreshing as opposed to the thick air. even then, when you’d return home and katsuki’s skin would be an unflattering shade of pink, a few freckles would pop through.
“you look like you need some love.” you whisper as katsuki finds a spot beside you, dropping his pager down on the bedside table. he makes no attempt to humor you, grunting behind a dimpled half-smile.
you loved bakugo katsuki. you were sure of it, with how light bursted deep within your chest when he looked at you. his vermillion eyes, a beautiful mixture of crimson and chestnut and all things soothing. he looks at you with all-seeing, omniscient eyes that pierce your soul in the very area you stand. he’s everything you loved, and, yet, everything you loathed. all in-between and outside, every missing part of you could be found within him.
“yeah, let me guess, you’re supposed to give that to me.” he says, though it sounds much more like a question than a statement. he feels you shrug, the mattress moving accordingly to your motions. he lifts the freshly cleaned blanket over his torso, wafting your scents together in perfect harmony. he shifts to you, bumping his forehead against yours momentarily.
“if you want me to.” yes. yes, he does. desperately, unconditionally. he wants your love, he wants you for your entirety, and then some. he wants to hold the essence of you, he wants to trap your love in his gauntlets just to watch it explode whenever he pleases.
“you crazy or somethin’? don’t get all sappy on me.” there’s no trace of venom in his voice, even as he turns back to his side and adjusts his position with his body turned away from you. first goes off the lamp illuminating the walls of the room, then goes katsuki as he slips into a peaceful dream. sometime along the night he finds his limbs tangled with yours, your ear above his heart as you rest your head against his chest.
he’s romantic, and it’s because he thinks about you all the time. because you run around his mind, clicking those square-footed heels around his skull and waving your sharply manicured acrylic nails in his face. he’s romantic because he knows it takes work to keep you. to keep you satiated.
he’s romantic because he’s thoughtful. he passes a shop window and something catches the corner of his eye? something soft or silky or shiny enough to remind him of his you? he’s got 3 different colors of it in a bag, swinging in his hands on his way back home. he’s romantic because he’ll come toeing in, closer to evening than afternoon, and slip it into your hands, and watching your face light up is like taking his very first breath all over again.
he’s romantic because you hold him to high expectations. are the gifts pretty? sure. do you look good in them? you look good in everything. but deku is romantic where it counts, too. he makes time for you. does he still get a little anxious when you go out on dates? yes. but that won’t stop him from escorting you to that place you’ve been raving about for the last two weeks.
he’s romantic, without even meaning to be. opens every door for you, gives you his coats when you’re cold, carries you over puddles, let’s you cling to his arm (and feels so proud when you do), makes you walk on the inside of the sidewalk, holds your hand when you’re elegantly heel-toe-ing down a set of stairs. his hands may be a little sweaty when he asks to kiss you, but that’s neither here nor there when he’s looking at you like the moon. izuku, no matter how big and renowned and revered he becomes, treats you as though you’re the center of the universe—and he’s just some guy caught up in your gravitational orbit.
he’s romantic when he’s talking to you about the things he loves—that all might figurine you ordered for him last week, or how bakugou cursed his future grandchildren today. and how he’s never bored with the mundane. never tires of sitting in your apartment and watching mean girls, even when you could be jump-flying to the bahamas.
summary: As a reincarnated god, you desire only one thing: revenge against Morax.
notes: reincarnation, descriptions of violence, angst, former lovers, zhongli story quest spoilers, 4.4k words
Once upon a time, you were a god.
Now, you’re a mortal left with nothing more than the bitter taste of dust in your mouth as you watch Morax fall from the sky.
In the tumult that follows his death, you disappear into the panicked crowd, your chest burning from old wounds, your hands shaking, the memory of his sightless eyes seared into your mind.
What a fool to have been slayed so easily by some unseen foe. What a disgraceful end for someone who has lived for six thousand years. If Morax were to die, it was supposed to be by your hand alone. How dare he rob you of that?
Now, there are no more gods in Liyue. There is only you, haunted by the memory of those long dead.
the differing ways attack on titan characters smooch the love of their lives (includes: armin, jean, mikasa, connie, hanji, eren, reiner, levi, erwin)
sensual fluff (some are vaguely suggestive)
gender neutral reader !
— ARMIN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who plasters a chaste peck onto your unsuspecting figure before dropping his head and stealing away whatever breath you were to afterwords inhale. armin who can’t find the resolve to peel his eyes away because you are a descendant from the heavens; a gift of abundant blessings to an unforgiving mortal who had deemed himself unworthy of your grace, but he were no saint. armin, the sinner, who indulged himself with the bliss that had been you. armin whose own exterior falters and dwindles into an imitating replica of when he were an awestruck little boy. he had become so fascinated, bewitchingly enamored, by illustrated wonders of the world, yet he so quickly abandoned his previous enchantment to consume himself with your intoxicating touch.
— REINER ༄ ˗ˏˋ who passionately sweeps you into his arms and smooths his capped lips flush to your jaw. reiner who leisurely swallows your exhales of bliss as if previously deprived from the touch of intimacy. he fervently irons an abundance of disorderly suckles to your neck, bruising the heated skin with contortions molded as the shape of his lips. reiner who strives to leave your knees weak and buckled, inducing your considerably smaller palms to desperately grip at his shoulders as his palms effortlessly hoist you by your hips.
— HANJI ༄ ˗ˏˋ who cutely giggles against your glossy lips. hanji who zealously sighs into your mouth, rambling ceaselessly when blabbering all abysmal contents residing in their heart, further leaning into your chest and cheekily whispering of the finite promises that awaited you both in the future. hanji who refuses to blink away the lovely sight of your countenance and meticulously etches the mesmerizing taste of your lips into lasting memory.
— MIKASA ༄ ˗ˏˋ who awkwardly shuffles her lips against yours, not quite certain where to efficiently glide her mouth or place her wringing hands. pink tinges the porcelain of her flared cheeks, but a feisty glare pinches her brows into a brief expression of irk that dies at the sight of your amusement. her bottom lip juts into a pout when you laugh at her contemporary conflict. mikasa who continuously proceeds to clumsily bump your nose as she impatiently tugs your shoulders near. the romantically inexperienced ackerman who can’t suppress the desire to impress you but fails to stick the landing each time. mikasa who earnestly perks to her knees when your soft lips split, eagerly asking if you’d let her try again. she convinces you that the last attempts were flukes; a warm up for the final challenge. mikasa who outwardly squirms and curses in disdain when you both buck heads and separate with various exclaims of pain. mikasa who, in her defeat, chooses to speckle a reconciling smooch at the corner of your mouth, visibly preening when you told her to do it once more.
— CONNIE ༄ ˗ˏˋ who impishly cups your face as to directly draw you near before he playfully tackles you into a brief series of faintly peppered kisses. connie whose optics of sterling silver glint with mischief as his fingers spontaneously wiggle along your quivering sides in an effort to extract the echo of a laugh from your lips, and connie who concludes his ministration with a lingering swipe of his nose, roughly brushing the tip of his own against yours in a child-like eskimo-kiss.
— EREN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who heatedly guides your settlement onto his lap before plunging towards your mouth in a frisking effort to devour what remained of your hazy awareness. eren who leaves your puckered lips swollen and quivering by the conclusion of his endeavor, leaning away to observe your dazed state with a satisfactory hum of approval, drawing near as to rekindle the bruising force of his lips upon your own. eren who greedily clutches and detains your antsy frolic by cleaving a palm to the small of your back, stiffly pressing you to his chest with an unyielding restraint as to freely conduct a scheme motivated by the intention to reduce you to a state of wilder.
— JEAN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who simpers when he deliberately separates from your embrace by prying away and halting the intimate dance formerly initiated. his first kiss had been vexatiously brief, whisking your subjected plump hills in a synchronizing graze similar to the fleeting contact of something ghostly; never lingering upon your nude appendages for a second too long. jean whose riling infliction deserved brazen classification as a poor display of affection. jean who purposefully teased you to receive an earful of whiny whimpers that suggested he promptly exhort additional efforts or his cute, little lover would be compelled to execute empty threats. jean who indifferently mumbles an apology and roughly pins you beneath his weight, smugly questioning if he had efficiently made amends.
— LEVI ༄ ˗ˏˋ whose kisses are commonly renown as esteemed rarities and seldom acquaint with your supple skin. levi whose faint brushing of his lips remains long after he has finished as a bitter tinge of coffee sour on your tongue. the weight of his doughy lips coat yours in a sugarless tart, his sheen lips nark and purposefully tormenting you with an antagonizing pleasantry that were to occur once every eclipse of celeste. levi who struggles when conveying his harbored ardor, submitting to the intensity of heat that blossomed from the kindled fire of his heart. levi who yearns for an affinity but is terrified of the eternal menaces that endanger you and himself alike, scared to lose the last entity with possession of his fancy.
— ERWIN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who claws the blunt tips of his fingers into your dough-like middle, eyelids fluttered to a gentle close and hands eagerly palming at your waist as if he’d never receive another opportunity to hold you in his arms. erwin who wrenches your hips flush to his own when you attempt to break away, and erwin who lengthens the duration by hastily capturing your pouty lips in a wordless goodbye.
sero but bonus points if u make it silly and romantic ✨👄✨
sero has a really like? pretty singing voice. it's like smooth and a little raspy it sounds good but his favorite thing to do is very dramatically sing love songs to you. like bottom end of a wooden spoon, hand on his chest singing them to you. he'll even dance with you a little. he does it mostly to make you laugh cause he's not a professional but it's actually like really endearing and romantic. later on, he'll let you sleep on his chest and sing you to soft since he knows how much you like it
summary; saturday nights have become synonymous with girls night. girls night has become synonymous with you getting drunk and calling your boyfriend because you miss him
word count; 2.3k
warnings; college au, swearing (bc bakugou duh), alcohol use (reader is a sappy drunk <3), just fluff!!
authors note; this is the first fic i've ever posted and i'm so nervous idk what i'm doing and this is so garbage ahhhhh. if you don't like it please don't tell me cause 100% i will cry lol
also posted on ao3!
Saturday nights have become synonymous with girls night.
It had originally started during U.A., as a way to get some peace and quiet away from the guys. You all would take over the dorm's common area for one evening every week and ban everyone else from entering for the rest of the night. It became common knowledge that if you needed something in there, you either had to get it before the girls started setting up or wait until morning, unless you wanted a dozen pillows thrown at you with full force.
Sero learned that the hard way. When he got his phone back in the morning—charged, of course, you guys weren’t monsters—he was drowning in notifications and his gallery was full of photos Mina had taken of you all.
(he saves one of them, so he can print out and frame one for each of you as a christmas present that year. Some tears were shed, and yours forever stays on your dresser.)
Girls night had only two, very sacred, rules. The first was that nobody was to be left out (it was girls night, for a reason). The second was no boys, no exceptions.
(well, there was one exception, and that was Kiri, who once woke up from a nap and hadn’t realized that girls night had already started and stumbled in to see you all doing face masks. He asked to join, and he was just too sweet to say no too, so he ended up wearing a fuzzy headband and very pink mask surrounded by girls cooing over him. It is never mentioned to the other guys, and there’s now a basket of assorted face masks in the communal bathroom for anyone to take.)
Even after you all graduated and went to college, girls night stayed. It wasn’t even about getting away from the guys anymore, as they stayed in the boys dorm next door, it was just tradition.
Some nights you would stay in like back in high school, bringing every blanket and pillow into the common room and creating a huge pile to relax in. Other nights, you’d go out to a bar or club, drinking and dancing and having fun. Those nights were the most chaotic, all of you gathered in the shared bathroom to get ready. Someone blasts music, every inch of the counter is covered as everyone gets ready in the mirror, at least two of you get absolutely hammered and have to be carried home. They’re probably your favorite, even if it sucks to come back later and realize you have to clean up your mess.
Tonight is one of those nights, and the chaos is already in full blast. Toru is doing your eyeliner, because somehow she does it perfectly every single time, and you can feel her hand on your chin as she maneuvers you into place. The other girls are all chatting and laughing, one of Kyoka's playlists is on in the background, and your heart is full.
“Hey, who got stuck with Mineta watch this week?” Kyoka asks.
“Iida!” Ochaco chirps, and your brows furrow in confusion. Toru taps the space between them and you relax your face before speaking.
“Didn’t he do it a couple weeks ago?”
“Yeah, he volunteered again.”
“God, what a king,” You sigh. Ever since high school, he’s consistently offered to make sure the little purple creep doesn’t interrupt girls night. Truly a gentleman. “Someone really needs to suck his dick, he deserves it.”
Everyone bursts into laughter at your vulgarity, but no one disagrees.
When Toru finishes up, you thank her and put the finishing touches on your makeup before heading to your room to grab your outfit of the night. It’s one that always makes you feel sexy as hell, and you go to pair it with your black heels that make your legs look divine, but you can’t find them. You pop back into the bathroom. “Hey, have you guys seen my black heels?”
A chorus of no’s answers you, and you frown, cursing under your breath. “I must’ve left them at Katsu’s.”
You look down at your phone, ready to text him, but Mina snatches it away before you can even unlock it. "Hey-”
“No! It’s girls night, you know the rules!” If you rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck in the back of your head. “No boyfriends!”
“I’m just gonna ask him to drop them off, it’s not like I’m inviting him to come.”
“No!” She whines dramatically. “You do this every time!”
“No I don’t!” Everyone gives you a look, and you roll your eyes again. It wasn’t every time. “Drama queens. I just want my heels.”
Tsu takes your phone from Mina and hands it to you, and you give her a smile that she returns. You unlock it and send a quick text to your boyfriend, ignoring the girls’ complaining.
hey baby are you in your room?
yeah
why?
are my black heels there? i can’t find them :(
why do you keep leaving your shit in my room?
yes they’re here
can you bring them to me? 🥺
fuck no
why can’t you come get them yourself?
bc you love me <3
and bc i’ll get you something while i’m out
you always get me shit regardless
pleeeease baby? 🥺
dumbass
You grin at his response, knowing that it holds no true malice. Having known him for so long, you know that he's really just a big softie, and the names he calls his friends are (mostly) fond. Trying not to show your excitement, you check yourself in the mirror as a distraction. It doesn’t really help, because when you see Katsuki’s ‘here’ text, you bounce over to the door to the suite.
When you open it, your boyfriend’s grumpy face greets you and you beam at him. In his hand are the infamous pair of black heels, but you’re too focused by the way his eyes look you up and down, shamelessly checking you out. Your face flushes and you do a little twirl for him as he smirks, and when you face him again you pull him in for a sweet kiss.
“Hi baby.”
“I have your stupid heels,” He grumbles, holding them up with two fingers, and you peck his lips before taking them from him.
“Thank you Katsu, you’re the best!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” You hold onto his shoulder as you slip them on and do the straps, and one of his hands finds your waist. When you're back on both feet, you wrap your arms around his neck and grin at the increase in height. You take advantage of it and rub your nose against his, already drunk on your boyfriend's presence alone. He indulges your bunny kisses (he always acts like he hates them but you know he'd throw a hissy fit if you stopped) until exaggerated gagging noises come from behind you.
You whip your head around to see Mina and the other girls, still fake gagging and you stick your tongue out at them.
“You slowpokes almost ready?”
“Just waiting on you, Miss Lovebird,” You ignore the taunt, turning and giving Katsuki two more pecks on the lips.
“Love you baby,” He squeezes your hips three times as you disentangle your arms from his neck.
“Don’t do anything stupid," You give him a little salute and he snorts. “And drink water, idiot.”
You promise him that you will, and shoo him away with one final kiss. The girls tease you, call you lovesick and Bakugou whipped, which isn’t necessarily wrong, but you tell them to shove it and change the subject to the night ahead.
The club you’re going to is close enough that you all walk, and when you get there you all get drinks and appetizers for the table. The music is loud, so it’s hard to have a conversation, but it doesn’t really matter as the alcohol starts to take its effect. As promised, you have a glass of water with you the entire time, taking big sips in between the alcohol. You convince Momo to go out on the dancefloor with you, and Toru and Ochaco join you after a bit.
When you’re sweaty and starting to get tired, the four of you head back to the table. Kyoka had gotten shots, so you drain the rest of your water and the two of you throw back two shots each. It’s a good night, the alcohol in your stomach making you feel warm and fuzzy and you can’t stop rambling about how much you love everyone.
By the end of the night, you and Kyoka are very drunk. Neither of you can stop laughing, but you can’t even remember what was funny in the first place. When you finally calm down, you take out your phone to check your mascara, but are distracted by your lock screen. You pout before loudly announcing that you were going to the bathroom. The music gets quieter once the door closes, and you don’t feel as suffocated. After doing your business and washing your hands, you lean against the sink, once again staring at your phone; just a few taps later and it's ringing against your ear.
“Hey,” Katsuki gripes, obviously tired, but his voice makes your heart sing.
“Kats’ki,” You slur happily. “Baby, miss you.”
“You saw me a few hours ago, idiot.”
Even though he can’t see you, you’re sure he can hear the pout in your voice. “Still miss you,”
“How much did you drink?”
“Enough,” You giggle at Katsuki’s little grumble. There’s another noise in the background—something jingling?—but you’re too drunk to fully register it. “Can you pick m’up? I wanna see you,”
“It’s girls night, thought no boys were allowed,” He’s teasing, but you frown anyways at it.
“Don’t care, s’a stupid rule,”
“Yeah,” A door slams faintly through the phone, and you perk up a bit. “I’m on my way, relax.”
You giggle happily, the thought of seeing your boyfriend’s handsome face in person giving you butterflies. “You’re th’best ‘Suki, I love you so so much.”
“Love you too, you mushy idiot,” You start moving towards the bathroom door, ready to say goodbye to the girls. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“See you, ‘Suki. Love you,” He hums goodbye, and the music goes back to its normal volume once you step out of the bathroom. You make your way back to the table, and notice that the food you all had ordered are in takeaway boxes, with one left to the side. “Katsuki’s picking me up.”
Absolutely no one is surprised by this revelation, but you’re too excited to notice. You all split and pay the bill, then Ochaco hands you the takeaway box, and you remember the appetizer you had gotten for Katsuki. You don’t remember exactly what it was, but it’s spicy so you know your boyfriend will like it.
They call for two ubers to fit the six of them, and when you walk out the cool night air feels like heaven on your skin. Less than a minute later, Katsuki’s car pulls up and you squeal. He steps out and you fling yourself at him, just barely managing to keep the takeaway box away from impact. He sighs, seemingly annoyed, but he’s rubbing your back and he smells so good and like him and that’s all you can focus on.
“Jirou got shots,” Tsu explains. Katsuki just snorts.
“Told you not to do anything stupid,” You let out a little whine, wanting to tell him that you drank water just like you promised, but he’s so comfortable that you’re falling asleep where you stand. He sighs fondly. “C’mon dumbass.”
You sleepily say goodbye to the girls as Katsuki buckles you into the passenger's seat. Looking down, you see you’re still holding onto the takeaway box, and when you look back up, you’re at the dorms. The walk back to his room is a blur, but somewhere along the way he takes the box of appetizers from you, so you’re free to fall onto his comfy bed, too exhausted to even make noise. Katsuki comes back—when did he leave?—with a change of clothes, makeup wipes, and a glass of water, and takes off your heels, tossing them somewhere in his room. When you’re wrapped up in one of his big shirts and sweats, you move to curl up in his covers, but he keeps you from moving.
“Idiot, need to take your makeup off,” He speaks softly, which is weird because even though Kiri is asleep across the room, he sleeps like a rock and wouldn’t hear anyways, but you find comfort in it anyways. “You’ll get pissy if you wake up with that shit still on your face,”
As Katsuki gently wipes the makeup from your face, he thinks about how routine this has become for him. Almost every single girls night out, you drink a little too much and end up calling him, sappy and pouty and asking for him to pick you up. And every time, he’s already halfway out the door before you even say ‘hi’. Every time, he takes you to his dorm, helps you change, cleans you up, and falls asleep with you in his arms.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
When no more makeup comes off on the wipe, he throws it out, makes you (slowly) drink half the water, and finally lets you curl up under his covers, sliding in beside you. He cradles you to his chest, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. You’re in heaven, content just to lay in his arms for the rest of your life. If you were a cat, you’re sure you would be purring right now.
“Night, idiot,” He closes his eyes and breathes deep, ready to finally fall asleep with you in his arms. "Love you."
“Love you too ‘Suki,” You mumble back, sighing happily.
i don’t explicitly mention the contents of the dream, but i do describe his reaction which could be identified as panic and anxiety. if these are triggers for you, i would avoid the following piece.
forcibly drawn, torn, from a previous state free of disturbance, sero jolts, heart hammering as he is startled from slumber.
the cloth of his tee clings to his skin, draping loosely beneath his collar that sheens with cold sweat. his bottom lip trembles, commencing raking tremors of his shoulders that leave him breathless and heaving heavy exhales.
he quivers into the night as the chill of an eerie draft embraces his lone figure with a fleeting caress that forcibly erects goosebumps along his nape. antsy patches of nerves crawl up his arms and bite at his flesh until he is quaking, shivering, into the cool duvet at his lone fingertips.
recollection of imagery plays beneath his eyelids. frightening visage paints gore where once lied a sanctuary. the lids of his obsidian optics flutter tightly until squeezed to an unwavering close as sero wishes away the menacing memories that frolic his temple. dread floods his nerves until confined to the swelling space of his lungs. sero finds it hard to breathe; inhale and exhale. he reminds himself of his present reality, clawing a fist at his shirt where his live heart thumps wildly beneath the skin. his lips tremble silent pleas for help, but his words die; leave him helpless as his throat bobs anxiously.
his weight dips, sinks, into the mattress, and his silken sheets tug at his sides as if holding him hostage. sero struggles in the soft restraints, yet the night watches with an entertained gleam.
sero notices how the wind bellows and howls as if cackling in regards to his temperament, mocking him in spite and crudely whispering promises into his ear, threatening to reveal what menaces the darkness shelters.
the corners of the room shrink, and the wooden panels beneath the bed crumble. hanta coils into the covers as his heart rapidly sinks into his ribs, matching the pace of which the expanse swallowed his fetal figure whole.
he were to drown, lose himself in the depths of a void which possessed no end. he feared for the terrors to persist; fabricate paranoia where worry had not been prior. flittering figures of the late hour shift and contort before his eyes, obscuring his vision. he’s lost. chest heaving, eyes wavering and glossy with unshed tears, hanta is certain he’s a goner; victim to fear and another name brought to death, but breath touches his lips as a gasp, and suddenly he’s heaving, blinking away foggy shadows as you drag him into your embrace and calm him from the chill.
you’re cooing his name sweetly and rubbing a tender hand down his shaking spine. “you’re okay,” you reassure, tucking his temple into your chest as he desperately clasps a needy hand around yours. “you’re safe, baby. look at me.” a frown weighs your lips as he barely raises his nape to meet your stare. scarlet has flared the skin beneath his eyes, and the corners of his almond optics droop with sorrow when you swipe at his fallen tears. “i’ll always be right here.”
he breaks into quakes as he sobs, trembling terribly and rocking roughly in your arms with sniffles that break and squeak as he cries for you to hold him minutes more.
Okay back in high school I used to have those ELA class presentations and one was a goal you wanted to do after high school
So imagine it's Kami's turn and he gets up in front of the class with a big grin that challenges Kiri's and you know he's about to do something embarrassing...
So he starts about 'normal' things he wanted to do after high school like finding his dream job or smacking bakugo's forehead without any trouble, and then it happens
He says he wants to marry you and goes on an oration that would last for an hour if the teacher hadn't told him that's enough
Then everyone after class keeps teasing you, purposely bumping into you just to say 'sorry Mrs. Kaminari', bakugo is merciless 😭
(references here!)
THIS IS MAKING MY CRY ALL OVER MYSELF, PLEASE...
Like he's up there, and he keeps looking at you so you know things are going to go haywire, since with him, they always do... but you can't figure out what right until the slide show flicks to some embarrassing picture you sent him privately that he saved, and he's going off on some tangent that's like...
"And once we graduate, I plan to get married to y/n... yes, y/n, they're right there... babe, please say hi. Yes, them."
Cue you melting right into your seat when he starts pointing, horrified... but of course he just continues, and pulls up like a pinterest board's worth of stuff about you and how he wants your future is going to go... and just because it's ridiculous, Denki's probably even like, made some of those weird face-morph pictures to show what your kids will look like...
And (because this was my highschool experience with presentations) your professor keeps coughing and awkwardly smiling to him about wrapping it up... but Denki's just going "Uh, I'm not finished. Anyway, I want a honeymoon with snow, but that would mean Winter wedding? Maybe Australia? Y/n?"
LIKE, PLEASE DENKI NOT HERE, YOU'RE SWEET BUT LET'S GO HOME AHHHHHH... and when you look over next to you, both Kirishima and Sero are fucking DYING and you can tell Bakugo wants to explode...
And just like you said, when the whole campus gets wind of this and starts calling you Mrs. Kaminari or asking where's the ring... yes, Mina starts yelling shit like, "SHOO, STOP BEING MEAN TO THE BRIDE," too...
Denki couldn't be happier.
But on a more serious note, because part of me doesn't know how jokey you wanted me to take this... it's also making me cry more to think about Denki just being serious about the whole thing.
Like, boring presentation about futures and jobs and dumb crap, but right at the end he's pulling the "And of course, I'm gonna marry y/n..." with a little smile and wave to you...
It's still embarrassing, but so, so, SOOOO cute because the whole class goes "Aww!" and teases you very sweetly as you're leaving together and Denki's still just so proud of the fact...
[my heart is buried in venice] izuku’s body aches. his bones cry for rest after a full day of patrols, and his mind races with thoughts of tomorrow’s responsibilities. press conferences and pro-hero meetings; this is everything he’s ever wanted, but a tight, almost sickening seed of doubt plants itself in the pit of his empty stomach.
as he steps past the threshold of your shared apartment, his nose is flooded with the savory scent of warm katsudon, and izuku swears that he almost collapses into a pile of tears and sentimental mush right then and there. being led by his ever-growing appetite, he stumbles into the kitchen with a wobbly smile plastered on his dirt-caked face. he sees the rice cooker open with the small grains ready to be spooned into a bowl and topped with breaded pork, but it isn’t that sight that makes his heart feel so full.
it’s you. it’s always been you, but he has to admit, the you he’s seeing right now is one of his favorites. donning a pair of his old, slightly tangled all might earbuds, you sway back and forth to the music that plays from them. the movement of your hips is hypnotic, and he can feel his eyelids drooping as he continues to watch.
“i’m back,” izuku murmurs, not expecting you to hear him. but, he is proven wrong when you jump and turn at the speed of light. the panic in your eyes dissipates as fast as it appears and is replaced with gentle adoration that makes izuku’s heart falter in his chest. taking the earbuds out, you offer him a sheepish grin and open your arms for him to fall into.
he takes advantage of the opportunity and nestles his face into the delicate skin of the crook of your neck. one of his arms wraps around your waist while the other skirts around your shoulders to cradle the back of your head. you smell of fresh cotton, vanilla, and cooking oil, and izuku can feel his head go foggy. he tries his best to keep the tears at bay, but he can’t help it. his favorite food with his favorite person after coming home from his childhood dream is all too much. so, he cries; he allows himself to be weak in your embrace.
as his tears seep into your shirt, the fabric darkens along with the night sky. you hug izuku infinitely closer and press tender kisses to the tired body of your lover. with gentle reassurances and saccharine words, izuku realizes that he’s exactly where he needs to be.
warnings/tags: mentions of grief and death, vague descriptions of violence, hurt/comfort, 1,500w
Katsuki pads in and there’s silence. There are no stomps or a brash ‘I’m home.’ Not even a kiss to your temple, a hand to palm your ass.
You understand why, so you keep your distance, lips thinned and sealed. The smell of iron and ash cling to him. Soot and blood smathered all over. He won’t look away from it; when you try to catch his eyes he refuses to lift them from his boots.
You want him to say something, to lash out like the wild animal he is, untamed and unhinged, fueled with dangerous rage. You want his screams so loud you can feel them in your skull, like aching, like fire because that’s what’s normal. That’s how these days unravel.
He looks like he’s been stripped of all that fire. A dying little spark of a star that once burned so brilliant, so bright. He is a hollow husk of himself right now, a remnant—and you know he will crumble soon enough.
At age 33 Bakugou has seen some shit. He's gotten older although he has aged liked a fine wine.
Or perhaps like a bourbon or whisky.
He comes home, growling and fighting with his steel toed boots. Cracking his neck and back as he stretches, taking off grenade belts and locking them up in the safe by the door.
"DADDY!" His kids screech as they run for him. Almost knocking the pro hero from his feet as he scoops them into his arms, they cling to his biceps for dear life.
"Oi I told you brats not to bombard me right as I get home. I barely put the danger away." He growls but all the while you can see the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at his little girl and his little boy. Giving each a kiss on their forhead while they giggle and give a half hearted apology.
"Sowwyyyy" they don't mean it and the thought makes you giggle aloud, they'll do the same thing like they do every day.
"Oi, oi what's so funny?" He snaps, carrying his spawns as the girl starts to treat him like a jungle gym. Hanging from his frame and swinging while her older brother curls into his father's neck. Having missed him while he was out all day. You wonder if Bakugou's beard scratches at your son's face. Smirking as you spot the grays that pepper his whiskers and wind blown hair.
"Nothing." You say as a cat smile blooms on your face, "Nothing at all."
"Daddy, daddy can we help you cook today?!" The girl yells, climbing onto his shoulders, almost kicking her brother in the face as she bends down to scream in his ear. Bakugou visibly jars, jerking his head away while grabbing onto her foot to prevent a black eye.
"Mindful of your brother baby." He says, "Yes you can help. Let Daddy stretch."
He picks up his daughter by the back of her shirt, like a cat with scruff and gently places her on the floor as he makes his way to bend over to set his son down more gently.
Bakugou found out the hard way that his son is more sensitive.
"Do you need to stretch now cause your bones are turning to dust, old man?" The bright eyed daughter inquires. You bust out laughing, encouraging her as your son begins to get weepy.
"Daddy is turning to dust?!" He cries, curling deeper into his father as his arms wrap tightly around Bakugou's thick neck. Tightly enough he almost chokes.
"Oi oi!" He rubs his large hand across his son's small back, "No one is turning to dust baby."
His voice is soft and you're falling in love with him all over again. After your son has calmed down Bakugou sets his tiny bare feet to the ground before his daughter launches at him.
"Tag you're it!" She knows it always cheers him up because he is the faster of the two. He lunges as she runs away squeeling with delight. While your kids share a game of impromptu tag Bakugou comes closer to you. Pulling you into his strong arms as the day clings to his skin. The sweat and dirt from the day streaking his face as he leans in for a kiss.
"I'm home." His lips twitch into a devilish smirk, "Lemme shower and I'll start dinner."
"We prepped for you today. So it should be easy." You place a peck. Fully expecting him to pull away. But he doesn't. Your pouty lips still getting the best of him as his fingers entangle in your hair at the nape of your neck. Deepening the kiss as his tongue slides across yours. He pulls back enough to just let his lips press against yours.
"EWWWWWWW!" Both of your kids shout in unison you both pull away but Bakugou keeps you pressed to him in his strong arms. .
"Momma's got cooties now!" Your daughter yells and when you notices your son's nose scrunched up both you and Bakugou can't help but laugh.
"Damn right Momma has cooties." He jumps away from you into a hunched over stance, "And now I'm gonna get you two."
They scream with delight, wanting the tickles and scratchy kisses on their foreheads but not wanting to be caught so easily. Bakugou chases after them and you hear when they get caught by the shrill screech that echoes through the house. The laughter that follows fills your heart, tears gather in your eyes as you sigh. Wishing you could bottle that sound, these past few moments forever.
You bite your lip to keep from crying as he saunters back with the kids tucked to his frame. Their little fists playfully hitting at his abs. It looks as if he's caught some villains. You can't help the shake in your shoulders. Your heart could burst from the love and the joy you're living.
Instantly the three of them notice the tears. Bakugou let's them down so they can hug your legs and he pulls the three of you safely into his arms.
"What's wrong?" They say, Bakugou's hands rubbing your back and the kids notice. Rubbing your legs as they imitate their dad.
"Yea why is momma sad?" Your daughter asks, her eyes starting to water too, your son is already starting to sniffle. You place your hands on their heads.
"Oh babies, Momma isn't sad. Momma is just..." You let a watery smile steal your features, not knowing your kids will remember what you said next fondly even as they age and well after you pass.
