#MHA whump

[d1s1ntegrated]

clothes stealing is so real and true to me… freak behavior is beloved… but wat if it was kinda switched? like you wuld steal and hoard shigaraki’s shirts and garments lwlwwl… i feel lik he wuld kinda go crazy abt it since his freakiness is being reciprocated and wuld make him all the more lovey and obsessed idk…

-💊

oh yeah. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 mode activated....heh......

paparazzi

creepy(or is this just canon?)!shigaraki x creepy!fem!reader

summary: life's more fun when you're being fucking crazy.

wc: 4035

cw: stalker behavior, gore-esque writing, mental illness, compulsions, loss of virginity, masturbation, cnc ment, crying, suicidal ideation, biting, rough, dead fucking dove. teehee!

a/n: i'm putting dead dove on here cause i know a lot of this might be a hard read but i'm in a mode that is so ferocious and unstoppable. consider this my shibuya incident part one. also this isn't fully proofread sorry!!!!!!!!

⊹˚₊‧꒰ა𓆩✧𓆪໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹

There's blood. There's so much blood. It soaks through his shirt, his hoodie, his jeans. The smell is nauseating as he trudges into the base, breathing lamented and head spinning.

The stench of death clings heavily to the pale man as he throws himself into a barstool, flinging his hoodie and shirt to the floor with a disconcerting slap. His face is bruised and beaten- a sore loss in his eyes, regardless of the number of bodies piled high in a corner of the city.

The hideout is dead silent as everyone disbands, leaving him alone at the bar with Kurogiri. Without a word, he's poured a drink in a highball glass, taking it with one swift gulp. It does little to settle the defeat staining his chest, as he groans and retreats to his room. Maybe time for a shower, maybe time to just fucking give up. Sensei will be furious at the failure, he's sure of it, and the thought of it causes him to grit his teeth and slam an already-shaky first to the door.

You hear the noise from across the hall. As you trek into the bar, you notice the deafening silence and the pile of soiled clothes on the ground. You grab them to your chest swiftly and head back into your room, the sticky chill staining your hands.

You have a laundry basket dedicated to Tomura. It's hidden in your padlocked closet, next to all of his trash you've picked up over the past few months. When the League let you in, it was a gracious gift from God; but they left you here to do the "behind-the-scenes" work. You didn't have room in your heart to care- mostly because it meant you had more time to yourself, to sneak into Tomura's room and lay in his bed and dig through his wastebasket. They paid little mind to you, which was another blessing: they knew, with your silencing quirk, you yourself tended to be more...timid.

It's not that you didn't want to speak, it's that the more energy you spent speaking, the less energy you had to utilize your power when needed. So most of your communication was based off of hand gestures, bowing, blinking, and facial expressions. You didn't care much to learn JSL, since you liked being the quiet kid growing up. Your isolation made it that much easier to focus on your interests, hobbies, and...obsessions.

The lock opens with a click, and you grab a bag to throw the clothes into. Best not to soil the rest of the "cleaner" (aka, dry) clothes with these. You take a moment with the clothes, running your fingers over the shirt with a lazy drag, pinching the crusting hem with thumb and forefinger. It sticks to your skin, pulling away slowly, and your heart swells. Was Tomura hurt? Or was this someone else's blood staining the delicate cotton? It don't matter to you- it was Tomura's shirt, that's all that mattered now. You bring the garments close to your face, taking a deep breath into the material with a chill. The sickly sweet tang yanks at your senses, the pungency of sweat causing you to recoil a moment as you discern what exactly happened. With a grin, you shove the clothes into the baggie and toss it into your basket- you'll deal with cleaning them later.

With a shuddering breath, you head to the bathroom to wash your hands. The water runs murky as you rinse them off, the entire situation feeling very poetic to you.

Silently shuffling back to your room, you catch the brief hush of conversation coming from Tomura's closed door. You put your ear up to it and wait, the anticipation gnawing at you as you listen for his voice again.

When you don't hear it, you clench a fist and storm back to your own room. You'll listen in later; you have better things to do.

Turning the lock swiftly, you dive back for the laundry basket and yank out a pair of sweatpants and toss them to your bed. His sweatpants, unwashed and worn copiously- they were one of your favorites. The scent was intoxicating: salty and musky and sweet. You bury your face into the crotch of the pants, reaching for between your legs. The ache was too much to bare, the heat swelling inside of you from all of the excitement and frustration forcing your fingers inside yourself with a painful curl. You liked to imagine it was him, taking absolute control of you, breaking you down and hurting you, decaying you from the inside out with painful and rugged thrusts. It was a sickening pleasure to hold, the idea of your nefarious boss stretching your walls with the same animalistic rage he has on the battlefield, but it was a pleasure all the same. And what is pleasure meant to be if not indulged?

Your fingers flit at a wicked pace as you imagine him, bloody and sweating, cursing into your ear. His raspy voice so demanding and impure, the recollection of the sound was enough to drive you insane. You abused the swollen of bundled nerves with haste, letting the shaky moans and drool soak into the pilled sweatpants, leaving a lewd lip-print on the inseam.

It was almost sweet, in your mind. I mean, if he could see how devoted and loyal you are, maybe he'd pay more attention to you. You could be a genuinely impressive partner, you know this. You crave it. His validation, his love and care, it's all you wanted. Instead, you got handed the short end and wound up being his admirer from afar. Unfortunately, not everyone is meant to be the muse. Someone has to be the artist. And that, that was your bitter fate.

You ride out the sweltering orgasm with lowly cries and moans, the shame slipping into you faster than your fingers. It was wrong. It was wrong and you knew that. You had to wash and return his clothes at some point, you'd have to throw out the old used tissues and empty cans and stained rags. It was vile. And the smell battering into your nose was now revolting, the cocktail of blood, cum, sweat, spilled drinks, and other fluids was enough to make you gag.

You didn't choose to feel this way. It wasn't normal, but you just loved Tomura so much, you'd do anything to have even a sliver of him. Just a taste. This was the closest you could get. But no amount of reassurance or self-validation was enough to cure the oncoming wave of guilt.

You sat there for a moment, fingers pruned and head spinning, when an aggressive knock rapped at your locked door. You hurriedly threw the pants back into the closet and locked it, jumping to answer the knock.

Unlocking it while smoothing your hair, you suck in your teeth. Tomura, shirtless, pantsless, loomed in your doorway with an unwavering rage.

"I need clothes, all of mine are fucking missing, did you do laundry?" He shoves his way past you, rummaging through your dresser.

You shake your head and point to the unwashed laundry basket next to him. This one was "normal"- out in the open to pose as inconspicuous, a veil for your shameful fetishes.

"It stinks in here. The fuck?" his face screwed as he yanked a pair of your sweatpants out of the drawer. Droplets of water spindled down his powdery locks, and be smelled like the cheap shampoo in the bathroom. He must've showered.

You shrug and quietly murmur out an apology. He rolls his eyes and digs into his neck before looking at you, his eyes locking in on your chest.

"Why is your shirt...there's blood on your shirt." He points and your eyes widen, glancing down to where you were previously hugging his tattered clothes to you. You bite your cheeks as he pads closer.

Stupid. You were stupid and didn't notice the old blood, you were too busy getting off.

He comes dangerously close to you as he examines you. "It's not yours" he researches, "whose?"

You shake your head. Play dumb.

He thinks for a moment before pushing your door closed with his foot.

"Liar, you did grab my laundry. Where is it, it needs to get washed now." his rasp hugs your ears just as you'd fantasized mere minutes ago. He's so close, so pretty.

Your mouth is dry, but you swallow the cough down as he hovers over you. "It's already in the wash" the lie saturates your tongue bitterly, knowing that if you aren't fast enough, he'll catch on. He's not dumb by any means, and he picks up on patterns pretty easily. So you keep your chin up, and look him dead in the eyes as you lay it on thick for him. You dig into your dresser and pull out a pair of old sweatpants, to who they originally belonged you can't actually remember, and a plain black tee that fits you a little too snug for comfort.

Handing the pile of clothes to him, he clicks his tongue and begins to turn to leave, but he stops. The old floorboards creak under his weight as he turns on his heel and, before you can stop him, he starts literally sniffing the room out.

"Seriously, it smells like something died in here, and it's pissing me off." The tall man's annoyed tone presses you deep in your chest as he approaches the dingy closet door. He wiggles the handle with three lazy fingers, but it won't budge. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut as he turns to you.

"Why is this locked? You got bodies in here we don't know about?" he keeps his fingers on the knob, tapping a finger rapidly against the old metal.

"That's just my stuff, Shigaraki". You keep your eyes locked on his hand, his other two fingers dragging dangerously close to the handle.

He turns back with a huff, clearly thinking for a moment before grabbing the knob with a full hand, and the metal turns to dust at his feet. The door swings open, revealing a very pungent and sickening image. You can't see his face, but you can feel his lead-stare on the shameful swath of clothes and memorabilia littering the interior of the musty closet.

Your first instinct is to run. Your second is to scream, to distract him, to do literally anything to peel his bloody eyes away from your guilt. But before you can do either, he re-fastens his low hanging towel wrapped around his legs- he still hasn't put on the clothes you've handed him, and now, he probably won't wear anything you give him- and he spins around to you, an indescribable expression painting his scarred face. There's nothing left for you. Your fear, mixed poorly with the sting of desire, rattles your bones as he tosses the clothes onto your bed, approaching you with the undeniable glint of amusement on his lips.

"Those are mine" his voice is a low, rasped whisper in your face, and he points back to the pile inside the closet, "those are all mine, aren't they?"

Swallowing the knot in your throat, you avert your eyes from his and nod slowly, the weight of your own head like an anvil as you force your body to move.

He backs away from you now, straightening back out from his hunched stance, cracking his neck. The room feels dark now, heavier than before, even with the unnerving scents fogging your sinuses.

He moves around you, circling you like a shark. He drags one long, crooked finger across your jaw as you clench your teeth, trying your best to accept your fate. You had fun while it lasted, right? Who's to say this wasn't the end you'd imagined anyways? You fucked up, sure, but your last terrifying moments were at least spent with the man you loved the most, touching you and breathing so close...

He snakes a freezing hand to your throat from behind, clenching you with four lanky fingers, wrapping his other arm around your torso to pull you into his chest. His towel falls to the ground, you hear the sound of heavy wet fabric hit the floor, and feel an incessant prodding against the soft flesh of your ass. Your breath hitches as you realize, wholly excited and panicked at your questionable fate. Your head spins with agony as he hugs you close, your breathing fastening as his ragged whispers taint your petulant mind further.

"You must really love me, huh?" his grip tightens, "You love me enough to steal my clothes...my garbage..."

Your eyes feel heavy. You try to nod, to respond to him. It's a strained, sad sound, as you confess your ultimate sin to him.

"Y-yes". You find yourself too scared to say anything else.

It's funny to you. Even after all the atrocities you faced, all of the blood and sweat and gore you came to, this felt...wrong. You knew, deep down, that you deserved this. That you were sick, and the best way to cure sickness was in death. But his hands, his iron grip on your soft flesh and fragile neck, the pinching and prodding and poking...it felt so wrong. Like this wasn't supposed to happen. If you had only done it differently, if you'd been normal and simple and wrote home to your mother from time to time. If you'd never set foot in the dingy bar to begin with, if you hadn't dropped out of school, if only you'd learned how to ride a bike and have friends and be a better person this wouldn't have happened to you. You didn't ask for this necessarily, but you caused it, and this was your cross to bear. Even if the cross was sodden with tears, leaving splinters in your tired hands, it was yours. At this point, you'd be nothing but ashes and dirt, it didn't matter anymore.

You let go. You let your body, shaking and sweaty, give up. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, kissing the tender spot with a scratchy lip. Your tears fall, fat and hot down your paled cheeks, unable to speak a coherent thought. "I'm sorry" you repeat, over and over, as his kisses and bites grow in intensity, and you fear for the worst.

Your mantra is interrupted by his thumbs, caressing your streaky cheeks and wiping the tears away.

He leans in close to you, pulling your chin up with his index finger, all other fingers curled into his palm.

"Did I scare you?" he pries into your mind with his ruby eyes, his face...not at all angry, or bloodthirsty, or even annoyed. Instead, his gaze is soft, curious at most. You lock in to him, allowing yourself to answer honestly- because if this is the end, you won't be a liar.

"I'm sorry. I stole it all. Your clothes, your trash, your cups and trinkets and napkins and even the blood-soaked things and I'm sorry, please" you rush out your words as if you're on a timer, and as you catch your breath, he simply listens. "I took it all, because it's as close to you as I could get. I-I'm sick, I'm rotten, and it scares me. It scares the fuck out of me, it's so dirty and disgusting and I can't stop the compulsion of wanting you and needing you in every way I can have you, even when I try. I know you hate me, I know you're going to kill me, and I'm sorry. Just know I'm sorry, and I love you, and even if that's disgusting and sick I at least deserve to be able to tell you that".

The words spill out. You don't mean for it all to happen. But it does, and it feels like vomit, and you hold back a gag before you fall to the ground, feeling defeated and empty for once in your life. It's weightless, even with the noose of guilt tight around your throat.

He sits down on the old floor with you. He pulls his towel over him, covering his lower half. He sits there with you as you sob, thick heavy cries soaking into your sleeves. The adrenaline rush wipes clean through you, the horror being the only thing left.

"You actually do love me?"

His words slice through your sobs like a sword, and you swear he sounds almost juvenile as he says it. Like a child begging you to keep a promise.

You sniffle and look up, a weak smile splayed across your puffy face. It's answer enough.

His eyes widen and he comes in closer to you. You see a part of him shatter and splinter as he takes in your words. He bites a lip back and takes a deep breath, his eyes glossing over and he stares off past you. He stands then, reaching an arm down for you to pull up on as he brings you to your feet.

He doesn't speak, but he drags the large basket out of the closet and throws his towel into it. He reaches for the sweatpants on the bed and throws them on swiftly, and with a loose grip, holds the basket and exits the room.

You pull the stained shirt off and replace it with an old sweatshirt before sitting on the bed. You bite your nails, staring at the wall. It feels numb now, like a veil of darkness was thrown over your inner psyche to protect it. You cry, but it feels shameful, because you're in the wrong here. Right?

He comes back a few minutes later, closing the door behind him and re-locking it. Without another word, he pushes you back on the bed, planting a genuine, hungry kiss to your lips. His hands tangle in your hair, and you panic before feeling the slip of polyester against your scalp. His gloves are on.

He pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy, and you stare at him, frozen.

"Say you love me" he says, lips inches from yours.

"I do, I love you, I have for-"

He doesn't let you finish. Instead, he shoves his tongue into your mouth and drives his hips into your thigh. You tense, but not out of fear this time, as you taste the desperation and sweetness on the villain's tongue. You feel that wave of obsession build back up inside of you, and you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, begging him for more.

He bites on your lower lip and pulls, and with one hand, begins to slide your sweater above your head. You hastily fiddle with it yourself, pulling it off and moving down to your bottoms, peeling them off your legs, unable to wait any longer. You let go, differently this time as your core heats and coils up, a silent plead for the man.

His face twists to an excited grin, his eyelids heavy as he pulls the sweatpants off. He shoves your underwear to the side, prodding at your bare beat with his throbbing tip mindlessly. He leans back down, kissing the exposed parts of your chest, your skin prickling at the contact. He nips at the flesh, pulling your bra back to expose you fully, and he gropes at you eagerly. His fingers flit over the soft buds, his own noises spilling from his pretty lips as you throw your head back.

You reach down, taking his impressive length into your hand, and guide the weight to your entrance. His eyes widen, and you realize, you've both probably never done this before. But he shakes off his virgin anxiety as he presses into you, the size stretching you and snapping you painfully. He groans out, gaining some semblance of confidence and sadism as he hears you cry out in pain.

"You love me?" He thrusts fully into you, the searing heat wiping your thoughts away for a moment. "Mhm" you respond, and he pulls out until just the tip is resting against the tight walls.

"You really love me?"

You nod, "Yes". He thrusts into you, sending another shock of pain into you.

"You really fucking love me?" His voice is louder, more rampant, more...commanding.

"Y-yes, Shigaraki" you cry out, and he thrusts into you now with a fluttering speed, unable to hold himself back any longer.

He wraps his hand back around your throat, clasping it with his fingers as he fucks you, rough and careless. "You touch yourself to the thought of me?" He asks, his teeth bared.

You nod again, and smile pathetically up at him as he ruts into you. He grasps your hand with his free arm, yanking it to between your legs where he shoves himself inside of you.

"Then do it". He says, eyes rolling back a bit as you clench around him at the sound of his domineering commands. The pressure on your throat eases for a few seconds as you adjust your fingers between the two of you, pressing into your swollen clit softly. You try to massage it slowly, but his thrusting makes it much more difficult, as he slams your fingers against your clit, forcing you to be much rougher than usual. However, the feeling of his slamming pumps, combined with the torturous pressure against your nerves, sends a brand new level of pleasure to soak into your core. You throw your head to the side, overcome with the aching of an approaching orgasm.

He removes his hand from your throat, and you take a deep breath in. He leans down, kissing your jawline and bringing himself closer so that his thrusts are that much more intense. His body, splayed against yours, sticking to you with the slight sheen of sweat, drive you incredibly mad. You tangle your free hand into his baby blue locks, pulling him to kiss you as you feel your orgasm crash over you. Your hips buck up, fulfilling the craving to feel all of him inside you, smacking your cervix, bruising your walls. He groans out into your mouth, biting down on your lip as he sputters inside of you. Your walls clench around him like a vice, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. His moans and whimpers aid in the rush of endorphins as you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as it all hits.

You both come down fast and hard as he collapses against your chest, cock still throbbing inside of you as the aftershock washes over him. You pepper his face, forehead, with kisses, taking in the scent of him. It wasn't unfamiliar, per se, but it was much better coming from him and not a piece of dirty laundry. It was sweet, salty, and musky, like the ocean and sour apple and new leather.

You don't speak as he pulls out, laying on his back, wiping his bangs away from his forehead. He sighs, and you pull your underwear over your legs. You decide to stay quiet, not wanting to shatter the moment. You both lay there for what feels like hours, the moonlight rippling through the cracked window and ripped curtains.

He speaks after a while. It comes as a shock to your ears. "I..."

You turn to face him as he speaks. His eyes are focused, and he's clearly calculating his next few words meticulously.

"I love you too".

The words splice through the void in the pit of your stomach. The wilting, rotting feeling dissipates inside of you. If even for a few seconds, you try your damndest to preserve that feathered feeling. It feels pure. And very very real. You don't know why, but after everything you've done, everything he's done...this feels like a revival. The lustration of his acceptance, his reciprocating, heals more than death ever could.

And it feels...good. To be sick, finally. Because at least you know you aren't alone.

⊹˚₊‧꒰ა𓆩✧𓆪໒꒱ ‧₊˚⊹

[goodwhump-temp]

Izuku Midoriya Whump | MHA

Ep.01 - Crying x2, bullied x10, bruised (flashback), scared Ep.02 - Scared, suicidal, crying, breakdown Ep.03 - Crying x3, training torture, breakdown, collapses, carried, trips Ep.04 - Crying x2, arm busted, falling from the sky, unconscious, nervous Ep.05 - Finger busted Ep.06 - Knocked down (explosion), bullied Ep.07 - Knocked down (explosion), hit from the back, punched, thrown, crying, arm busted, passes out Ep.08 - Unconscious, weak, sling Ep.09 - Squeezed/pushed around Ep.10 - Fingers busted, protected Ep.11 - [ep. includes Aizawa whump❗] Ep.13 - Legs busted, crying, bandaged Ep.15 - Paralyzed fear Ep.16 - Crying Ep.19 - Crying Ep.20 - Fingers busted, punched x2, manhandled Ep.23 - Finger busted x5, arm busted, pain, unconscious Ep.24 - Bandaged, right arm shattered, hand disfigured Ep.25 - [ep. includes Bakugo, Shoto, Iida whump❗] Ep.27 - Punched (back) x2, pinned, splat on the wall x2, bloody nose, exhausted Ep.28 - Thrown x2, bloody nose Ep.29 - Small cut grazed, paralyzed [ep. includes Iida whump❗] Ep.30 - Leg sliced, arm hurt, exhausted, carried, face kicked, SNATCHED Ep.31 - Bandaged Ep.33 - Slips Ep.37 - Backhanded/knocked down, punched, used as human hammer, thrown, spine-slammed, pain Ep.38 - Threatened, choked, terrified Ep.40 - Blown off cliff, exhausted, nuts punched, comforted Ep.41 - Punched Ep.42 - Gut-kicked into wall, bleeding forehead, knocked down, arm busted, crushed Ep.43 - Carried Ep.44 - Arms bandaged [ep. includes Tokoyami whump❗] Ep.45 - Knocked down, tumbles x2, devastated, ambulance-care, says 2-days of unconsciousness/fever, crying, guilt Ep.46 - Arms disfigured, punched Ep.48 - Paralyzed fear Ep.49 - Crying Ep.50 - Punched, crying, comforted Ep.51 - Crying Ep.52 - Knocked down (explosion) Ep.54 - Pinned, scratched Ep.60 - Crying Ep.61 - Knee'd in the face, thrown, angry, pinned, restrained Ep.63 - Gut-punched Ep.66 - Slams into wall, bloody nose, exhausted Ep.67 - Bottling feelings/can't concentrate Ep.72/73 - [eps. includes Kirishima whump❗] Ep.75 - Knocked down, pinned by spikes, spike grazes [ep includes Lemillion & Nighteye whump❗] Ep.76 - Multiple cuts, bleeding, 100% power/extreme pain (delay) Ep.77 - Power overload/dying, crying [ep. includes Lemillion, Nighteye, & Overhaul whump❗] Ep.83 - Fingers-internal bleeding Ep.84 - Thrown x2, shot with beam, stuck holding beam up Ep.85 - Knocked down, knocked unconscious, pinned, thrown x2, kicked Ep.90 - Vision Ep.98 - New power/uncontrollable, panic, vision, slapped x2 Ep.99 - [ep. includes Shinso whump❗] Ep.101 - Paralyzed fear (interview) Ep.105 - [ep. includes Shoto trauma❗] Ep.106 - [ep. includes Natsu whump❗] Ep.107 - Head stabbed with hat, bleeding [ep. includes Aizawa trauma❗] Ep.108 - [ep. includes Shigaraki trauma❗] Ep.117 - [ep. includes Shigaraki whump❗] Ep.118 - Uneasy Ep.120 - Protected [ep. includes Aizawa whump❗] Ep.121 - Arm bit Ep.122 - Knocked back, angry, crying, arms busted x2 [ep. includes Aizawa & Hawk whump❗] Ep.123 - Feral, pinned, protected [ep. includes Bakugo whump❗] Ep.124 - Body exhausted [ep. includes Dabi trauma❗] Ep.125 - Body exhausted, knocked back Ep.126 - Shard headache pain x2, passes out, knocked down, body exhaustion Ep.128 - Bandaged, comatose Ep.129 - [ep. includes Hawk trauma & whump❗] Ep.130 - Coma cont. Ep.132 - Hospital flashback, scars Ep.134 - Gut-punched, bullet grazed x2 Ep.135 - Suicidal/depressed, trampled, confronted Ep.136 - Intervention; depressed, restrained x3, thrown, emotion anguish, pierced ice wall, guilt, body exhausted, crying, scared, collapse, passes out Ep.137 - Scared, mental breakdown Ep.138 - Comforted

[nerdyanimefan]

Child of nomu

TW: Kidnapping, mouth to mouth feeding (but with water), broken bones, bone breaking

When Izuku slowly regained consciousness,he relised he wasn't at school anymore, his eyes fluttered open to the dim lighting of the cave. His head throbbed, and his body felt heavy, as if weighed down by invisible chains. He blinked several times, trying to focus his blurry vision, and gradually became aware of the rough stone walls surrounding him. The distant echoes of dripping water reached his ears, and a wave of disorientation washed over him. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool, damp air fill his lungs, and tried to sit up, his muscles protesting with every movement.

He brought a hand to his head, and a sudden, sharp pain shot through it. He cried out, the sound echoing off the cave walls.

He looked down at his arms, they were twisted in a weird angle, purple and covered in dry blood.

He let out a sob. How did he get here? Closing his eyes Izuku tried to remember what happened, he was walking home from UA…. and he was attacked!

By a black mass, it was so fast that he couldn't keep up, he remembers throwing a punch then blacking out.

But that was in the middle of an empty street. How did he get to this cave? Sucking in a breath he tried to move his legs, sighing when he relised they weren't broken.

So he lifting himself up with his back stregnth, it was a bit painful but not that much, he slowly pushed himself up with his legs.

"Damn it" he cursed under his breath.

When he walked out of the cave he saw he was in a forest, the trees were huge, the sky barely visible between them, but he could see a bit of the night sky.

Normaly he would have called for help but his phone and signature yellow backpack is no where to be seen, so he walked ahead.

He needed to think about this carfully he didn't want to go even deeper into the forest and get even more lost.

Suddenly a screech broke out somewhere near him, he tried to cover his ears but his broken arms didn't budge.

He looks around in a panic. Was that an animal? No, no animal can make a noise like that. Also. It's the same sound he heard before he was attacked.

He quickly ran as fast as could, one for all flowing through him helping him go faster.

But it wasn't fast enough because the creature was right behind him, Izuku looked behind him to see that familar black mass.

"CRAP" he yelled out.

He was only able to run for a few more feet before all the wind was knocked out of him, he slides down the forest floor, before he can look up something jumped on his back.

"He-hey get o-off" he spuddered out.

Izuku felt something wrap around his waist and suddenly he was in air, but he wasn't flying. Something was holding him.

He looks at the creature that picked him up, his blood went cold when he saw what it was… A Nomu… But nothing he's never seen before this wasn't like the nomu that the hero killer stain saved him from… it was bigger, black as night and seemed to be…. thinking?

Izuku can tell because the monster looked at him curiosly.

"Let Gooo-" Izuku yelled as the nomu held him upside down by his legs.

It turned around and began to walk back to the cave. Wait Why?!

He activated OFA again "i said let go" Izuku tried to kick out of the nomu's grasp, but it held tight.

The creature held Izuku back to face level with it and growled at him. "I'm not scared of you, I've seen your kind before" Izuku tried to hide the fear in his voice.

CRACK

Izuku screamed in pure agony as his legs snap, the nomu had broke them as easly as twigs in its hands, It ignore his screams as it layed Izuku back on the cave floor.

The nomu walked to the back of the cave, Izuku began to rive in agony, he has never had both of his legs broken like this, hot tears falls his face and his body is racked with sobs, the pain in his arms returning at full blast.

The nomu then returned looming over him "N-no please wait" it grabs Izuku again and walks a few feet away placing him on something surprisingly soft.

A bit of confusion clouded Izuku' head. Why did it lay him down here? If it was gonna eat him why didn't it do it already? It did just break his legs and most likely his arms.

Izuku's consciousness was slipping the pain was too much to handle, the nomu seemed to just stare at him, watching…

The last thing Izuku saw was the nomu reach out its hand and gently touch his cheek….

Izuku regained consciousness again, he slowly blinked the sleep out of his eyes, the sun was now shining through the entrance of the cave. So its day time now….

He turns his head to the side, to see variuos objects, like vases, all kinds of trinkets and toys, lots large cloths. Blankets and pillows? Izuku thought for a moment, but a small squeel got him out of his thoughts.

He turned his head the other way, it was that nomu. Did it collect all these things? How? Why? HE HAD SO MANY QUESTIONS THAT WILL NEVER GET ANSWERED!

The nomu got close to him, close enough that he felt its hot breath on his face, he closed his eyes preparing for the worst. But nothing happened, Izuku opened his eyes to see it was still there looking at him, tilting its head…

"W-what-ACK?" Izuku went into a coughing fit, he didn't relise how thirsty he was…

The nomu jumped back in surprise, but regained compuser quickly, the nomu reached out to place a finger on his cheek, "W-water" Izuku coughed out the words, he doesn't know to who he was talking too.

Izuku was coughing so much that he didn't realise the nomu leave, trying to swallow down any siliva that may still have been in his mouth he only coughed again.

Then the nomu came back slowly walking towards Izuku  "N-no stay back-" he tried to speak but his voice failed as he couhed again. The monsers large hand scooped his head and lifted it a little and lowered its own head towards him. What was it doing? Was it gonig to eat him?

But insted of teeth the nomu puts its mouth onto Izuku's and used its other hand to part his lips. What? Suddenly its large tounge entered his mouth and Izuku gasped. But it didn't hurt.

A wetness filled Izuku's mouth as water began to spill down his throat. Was it giving him water? He undeliberately drank the water that filled his mouth.

He couldn't push or kick it off so he just let it happen.

After what felt like an eternity the monster pulled away and gently put Izuku's head down on whatever he was laying on.

God that was the worst, but his thirst was quenched.

He looked back at the nomu trying to make some sense of what is happening right now. First it breaks his limbs. Now it gave him water? He closed his eyes again. "T-thank you" he croaked out as a tear rolled down his cheek.

The nomu let out a happy chirp like noise. Did it understand him?

I think i'm gonna leave it at that. Mostly cause i have no idea where to go with this <(°>°)> sorry. But if you got any ideas i'll be more then happy to hear.

[ashitanoyuki-on-ao3]

Tamaki pieces his life back together. All is well - until it isn't.

[alittlehurtwithyourcomfort]

hey y’all! i want to start trying to write more, so i want to try taking fanfiction prompts! the rest of this post will detail the rules for submitting a prompt as well as which characters and fandoms i’m willing to write for.

————————————————

rules:

- no nsfw/sexual content

- no emeto

- no a/b/o

- no rape/non-con

- no gore

- no character bashing

- no romance (exceptions: buddie, glacier, polyninja, lava, bruise, plasma, cole/geo, birdflash)

————————————————

preferences/what i like to write:

- hurt/comfort, whump, angst

- platonic relationships/background romance

- happy ending (well, mostly happy)

- found family

- canon divergence

————————————————

current fandoms + characters + relationships:

- ninjago: cole, lloyd, kai, zane, jay, glacier, lava, bruise, plasma, cole/geo (+ found family, sora, arin, background jaya, background pixane)

- DC: dick grayson, tim drake, birdflash (+ batfam)

- 9-1-1: buck, eddie, buddie (+ firefam)

- MCU: peter parker, tony stark, matt murdock, kate bishop, yelena belova (+ found family, mentor relationship, no ships)

————————————————

please submit prompts through asks! thank you <3

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Me who made MHA Whump before I even knew what whump was: 🫣

Syke Isamiti

Quirk: Glitch

Glitch allows the user to glitch short distances and also glitch other people and objects.

Mug falling? She will glitch it to make it stay in air and puts it back.

Person falling (out of a building)? She will glitch them so they stay in place till they get help.

If she glitches to much/over uses her quirk, she is at risk of having a heart attack due to the extra blood pumping, keeping her alive while she glitches through time and space.

Her before Whump:

(You don’t get to see her afterwards, she won’t come out of her room)

[fan-dweeb]

When I say I want dabihawks whump, what I mean is I want Hawks to randomly FaceTime Dabi in the following scenario

Hawks: heyyyyyyyy Hot stuff

Dabi: Hawks???

Hawks: s-sorry. But I think- I think I might need some help

Dabi: Hawks??????

Hawks: ‘s jus’ a small scratch. But I can’t-

Dabi: Hawks??

Dabi: Hawks!

Dabi: Shit that’s a lot of blood

Dabi: You know bones are supposed to be inside your fucking body right?

Dabi: I’m on my way birdie, hang in there

[flightalpha37]

[serial-izuku-killer]

One day I was wondering what it would be like if no one had ever arrived to help.

[max-nicoxfandom]

Some trauma/whump/abuse scenarios for you, because your character can be traumatized without having the literal joker for a parent. Like not all abuse is so outward, I would argue that most abuse looks more like this.

Feel free to add your own, this is just stuff I've experienced

Yelling. I don't mean being yelled at. I mean a child being in a household where their guardian is always stressed and always yelling. It puts your body in fight or flight mode for all of eternity, trust

Sex and other adult topics being discussed with or around a child before they can understand what they're talking about

In the same vein, adults talking about a child while right in front of their face, and not caring what they hear or believing that they don't understand what they're hearing (they always do)

Gaslighting. Phrases like "you dreamt that" "you're being too sensitive" "that never happened" "don't lie"(while telling the truth)

Guardians not supporting the child's interests, or even down right denouncing them, whether they do it by taking the interest away or insulting the child for participating or some secret third thing

Misplaced anger/adult taking out anger on the child

Food scarcity, specifically by refusing to buy food that a picky eater would eat, or not having enough money to keep food on the table

In a similar vein, buying luxury items like game systems, new clothes, TV's, etc, while not being able to afford to put food on the table (and if you want to be even cooler the guardian will make the child feel bad for complaining about not having basic needs met by pointing out all of their luxury items they've been bought, double points if the child didn't want or ask for any of it)

Being treated as a burden, or saying things like "you're too/so expensive" "you're so needy" "you're too spoiled"

Guardian A trying to turn their child against guardian B, making themselves look like the better caretaker or better person.

Guardian who treats their child as a friend, or overall not having enough boundaries between parent and child

Emotional absents. Being there, but never engaging with their child. On the flip side, forcing their kid to participate in something bc the guardian likes it, even if the child hates it

Parentifying their child or forcing them to take care of their household in an adult manner, like helping raise the other children, housework above their skill level, paying bills, etc

Lack of privacy. A guardian telling people about something the child doesn't want people to know about. It could be an embarrassing story, it could be about their sexuality, it could be something that sounds harmless

Physical abuse but only while inebriated, and being (what's at least perceived as) a good parent otherwise

Preventing a child from sleeping while they're tired/extreme sleep deprivation

Repeatedly breaking their trust, like not doing things they promised they would do, saying things they don't mean, bring people who don't like their child around their child, ect

Name calling

Feel free to add your own, or hop into my askbox !! It is always open !!

[thatfanficauthor107]

Random AU’s for you fic writers!

Firefighter x Arsonist

Author x will never ever set foot in a library ever (bonus points if they can’t read)

Academic rivals but they compete for last place

Siren (who seduces then drowns people) x lifeguard

Hates children x teacher

Highschool dropout x prodigy

scientist x guinea pig (as in human they test on not the animal sickos)

fallen angel x redeemed demon

doctor x serial killer

priest x demon

Tag/credit me if you use them!

i take reqs for promps + stuff!

[juche-jane]

https://www.deviantart.com/piggyh0g/art/1064145281

this art was also inspired by "Monoma time loop" fanfiction. I can't get out of my head thoughts about all hardships this kid had to go through in the plot

[fadobeijaeu]

"it's so loud, its unbearable"

this was so mf sad. he's feigning disdain and annoyance but pino's got nothing but a look of resignation. of course a plane is gonna be loud, but such an obnoxious reminder of a job he wants but could never have is unbearable

[parsnips-and-meth]

Boiling Over (Part 1)

Hi! This is my first time posting an exclusive tumblr whump piece - I hope you enjoy. This one features some Todoroki whump, BKTD and a little bit of Dadzawa. Includes: Fever, Vomiting, Vertigo.

__________________________

He should have listened to Bakugou. 

            Shouto had woken this morning in a feverish haze. Shirt clinging with sweat, ears ringing. He’d nearly fallen and cracked his head open on the desk trying to get out of bed. But he’d put it down to quirk overuse – yesterday had been intensive. It wasn’t unusual for his body to overcompensate… or undercompensate. 

            He’d sat panting on the tatami mats, right hand pressed to the back of his neck. It had been soothing, and after a few minutes, he felt more centred. Certainly not bad enough to miss training. Besides – he was sure his temperature would regulate by lunch. 

            He had been wrong. 

            Bakugou was glaring at him over his mapo tofu. He stabbed around in the sauce for a while as Shouto shivered, yet to even pick up his chopsticks. There was nothing appealing about his soba today. The sight of the noodles sitting slumped and wet like fat, brown earthworms made his stomach churn. 

            “You’re an idiot,” Bakugou hissed, a cube of tofu circling his mouth. Shouto swallowed. “I told you to stay in bed.” 

            Shouto could feel a twisting burning in his chest. He pressed his left hand to his sternum and activated his quirk. 

            “Go back to the dorms,” his boyfriend ordered. “Go back or I’ll fucking kill you.” 

            “There’s only one period left,” Shouto murmured, closing his eyes. The lights in the cafeteria were beginning to coagulate and blur. 

            “I don’t care,” he growled. “You look like shit, Icyhot.” 

            Shouto frowned but didn’t open his eyes. “That’s not very nice. You’re supposed to be nice to me.” 

            “I am nice to you, you stupid fuck.” Bakugou’s calloused hand landed on his cheek, thumb stroking back and forth. “God, Sho, you’re burning.” 

            He opened his eyes and shot Bakugou a soft smile. The blonde just squinted further, clearly not placated. “Just one more period,” Shouto said, “and then I’ll go straight to bed.” 

------------

He should have listened to Bakugou. 

            He didn’t even remember changing into his gym uniform. But he was wearing it – he could feel every single fibre of it tearing at his skin. The grey expanse of Gym Gamma was so wide, so bright today. 

            Oh god. Not once in his life had he ever felt this awful. 

            He was paired with Kirishima for a round of quirk combat in close quarters, but neither he nor the redhead had moved an inch. Shouto could feel his stomach bloating against his waistband, could feel its contents seething. He snaked his right arm around it, hunching his shoulders and taking deep, shuddering breaths.  

It hurt. 

            The sounds of their classmates around them were building, fights underway. Still, Kirishima waited, watching him nervously. Shouto wondered why he didn’t jump at the opportunity – there was no way Shouto was winning this one. 

“Hey, man.” Kirishima’s voice was quiet, “you wanna sit down? You don’t look so good.” 

“Mm,” Shouto grunted. “I’m okay. Just need a minute.” 

“Dude –” 

He straightened up, pushing his shoulders back. A deep, rippling ache spread up from his stomach to his throat. He could taste acid. “Let’s go,” he said, pushing his right foot forward. 

The fight didn’t last long. His ice was sloppy, arching just past where Kirishima stood, and the other boy skidded round and started barrelling towards his left side. Fire licked its way up Shouto’s arm, but the heat was searing, unbearable – his head throbbed, and his vision narrowed, a rotten, sour taste flooding his gums. He put out the flames as his knees buckled, catching his fall with one hand, and clamping the other over his mouth. He could hear Kirishima shout, but it was indecipherable over the tinnitus. Shouto’s oesophagus burned, stomach cramping and knotting, and he burped, saliva sticking to his palm. 

He felt vile.

“You idiot.” Bakugou was next to him. When had he got here? “You stupid, fucking idiot. You never listen.” Shouto shuddered, and he felt his boyfriend’s hand run up his back, gentle, soothing. “You gonna be sick?” 

He couldn’t answer. He dropped his hand and belched again, rocking forward over the floor. Hot saliva rolled off his tongue and hung from his lips in strings. Bakugou moved his other hand up to cup Shouto’s forehead, pushing his hair back. 

“Yaoyorozu, could you make us a bucket, please?” That was Aizawa. His teacher stood in front of him – Shouto could see the scuffs on his black boots. “The rest of you can wait for me in the changing rooms.” 

Shouto heard lots of whispering and shuffling, and then blessed silence. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe – in, out, in, out. A bucket was put in front of him, along with a flannel and bottle of water. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Yaoyorozu asked, voice trembling. 

He heard Bakugou scoff. “He’s chronically stupid.” 

Shouto lurched forward with a dry retch, forehead hitting the rim of the bucket. He moaned, gulping in another round of air. In, out, in, out. Cool fingers brushed against his skin, followed by a hiss. 

“Christ, kid. That’s a nasty fever.” Aizawa took out his phone. “I’m going to call Recovery Girl. Let her know we’re coming.” 

The nausea was so rampant he could feel it in his eyes. Shouto reached out and grabbed at Bakugou’s knee. “No,” he mumbled, “don’t… can’t move –”

He was cut off with another unproductive gag. He felt like he was choking. Bakugou brushed a hand through his hair, hushing him. “Not yet, Sho. When you’re ready.” 

He sobbed as another cramp ripped through his stomach. “Katsuki.”

“It’s okay, Sho. It’s okay, you’re okay –”

He heaved violently, and this time a slurry of undigested food made it into the bottom of the bucket. Bakugou was holding him steady, mumbling things Shouto couldn’t quite hear, couldn’t quite understand. But the sound of his voice was enough. He burped, bringing up another mouthful of liquid, and then his back was arching as his body tried to wring itself dry. Round after round of vomit, until he had nothing left but spit and dry air.

The stench of the bucket was cloying. Bakugou pulled him back even though he was still gagging, rubbing his back in circles. “I think you’re done, babe. Here, come on. Breathe for me.” 

Shouto hiccupped, leaning back into the blonde’s chest. “I – I don’t feel well.” 

“No shit.” Bakugou used some of the water from the bottle to dampen the washcloth. He tilted Shouto’s head and began wiping away the bile and spit sticking to his chin, the snot under his nose. Aizawa took the bucket to wash out, and Yaoyorozu took his place in front of Shouto, smiling softly. 

“Want to try a bit of water?” she asked, holding out the bottle. Shouto groaned, pulling away from her. The nausea had just barely let up – he wasn’t sure he was ready to swallow anything yet. 

“Hey. Have just a little,” Bakugou said, taking the water from her. He unscrewed the cap and pressed the bottle to Shouto’s lips. “Dehydration is dumb.” 

He felt it wash over his tongue. It tasted acrid and did little to settle his stomach. He pushed the rest away and belched into his fist, shivering. 

“You think you can stand?” Aizawa asked, returning with a clean bucket. After a few measured breaths, Shouto nodded, clinging to the bucket as Bakugou eased him onto his feet. Yaoyorozu moved to stand on his other side, taking some of his weight. His teacher’s gaze was scrutinising, brow furrowed. 

“Let’s go. I want you checked out sooner rather than later.” Aizawa held the door open for them as they left the gymnasium. “But tell me if you need to stop, alright?”

“Mm,” Shouto said, not sure what he was agreeing to. Colours and sounds were starting to melt together. He leaned into Bakugou on his right, eyes searching. “Kats-ki?” 

“I’m here, Sho.” He pressed a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. It was scorching, even on his right side. Bakugou bit his lip and tried to temper his anxiety. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured. “I promise.” 

[ashitanoyuki-on-ao3]

Nejire receives answers to some of her questions. Domesticity ensues.

(In which I am shockingly nice to the anime characters for once. Might need to fix that.)

[writersmorgue]

Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1332

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

Time-activated quirks are rare. Izuku knows, he’s studied many. He was fascinated by the logistics the first time he read about one in the news. The quirk usually being transferred by some physical touch or substance from the user- slowly dissolving into the victim like a pill. 

Pro hero Buzzkill has a quirk that gives its victim a bee sting-like welt every four and a half minutes. The vigilante Combo Breaker has a quirk that breaks one of its victim's fingers every two minutes. 

And apparently, the villain he’d been fighting on patrol also shared this unique quirk factor. 

The debrief had said the guy was quirkless, but one look at the shoes on his feet told Izuku otherwise. 

Now, four hours and twenty-five minutes later, he’s lying on the floor of his kitchen unable to move. 

His nose is pressed at an uncomfortable angle, mere inches from where his coffee mug was smashed to pieces when he dropped it. 

He’d felt this odd pain in the base of his spine when he got off of patrol, and after his post-shift nap, it had only been higher up on his back and twice as intense. 

Apparently, when it got to his head, he was due to lose all motor functions. Great!

The good news is that Katsuki should be home any minute, and he can pull Izuku out of this cold, black coffee puddle. Maybe he’ll even put him back in bed if he’s feeling generous. 

He’s not sure how long he waits. His eyelids have drooped close, though he couldn’t open them if he wanted. He spends a while trying to determine if he’s breathing or not, but his whole body is so uncomfortably numb that he gives up. 

Soon enough, the door opens and Katsuki’s gym shoes are kicked off into their cubby. 

“‘M home.” He grumbles, probably not expecting an answer because Izuku is usually still napping when Katsuki gets back from his morning gym run. 

Izuku isn’t sure what Katsuki notices first, maybe his socked feet lying on the ground, or the bits of red, blue, and yellow ceramic that probably skidded across the room. 

“Deku? Did you fuckin’ fall?” His husband scoffs, rounding the corner to see Izuku sprawled on the floor, “Oi, get up dumbass.” 

Izuku mentally winces, not prepared for the absolute earful Katsuki is going to give him later. 

Katsuki walks closer, nudging the broken pieces of mug away, “Izuku?” 

Ah, he’s anxious. 

Izuku might’ve predicted this issue if he had thought a little harder. He’s not in any real danger, so there’s no need to worry-

“Izuku?!”

But he doesn’t know that. 

“No come on,” Katsuki mumbles out loud, trying to reason logically like Izuku knows he does when he’s scared, “he hit his head and passed out- no, there’s no blood. He was tired? Maybe he wanted to sleep on the floor…”

Katsuki comes up behind him and drops to his knees, rolling Izuku over. 

Light flashes in front of his eyes, but he’s powerless to blink at the sudden flash. Katsuki curses when his head flops back and smacks the tile. Stars fly across the black of his eyelids. 

“Izuku, wake up.” Katsuki presses his fingers under Izuku’s jaw and curses. 

There’s no way this quirk stopped his heartbeat- right?!

Katsuki pries one of his eyelids open. The cool air burns but he doesn’t flinch. 

His pupil must not react either, because before he knows it Katsuki is tugging him into his arms with a frantic whimper and launching himself across their living room. 

Katsuki places a leg in between Izuku’s own and wraps one of his arms under Izuku’s shoulders so he can use the other to propel them into the sky. 

The wind whistles by Izuku’s ears as Katsuki wastes no time getting them to what he can only assume is the hospital a few blocks away. 

The strain his arm must feel right now can only be extremely painful but Katsuki makes no sign of it. 

Izuku can feel them descending, just as Katsuki’s grip on him begins to slip. Katsuki stumbles a bit on the ground, lurching forward but being sure to keep Izuku’s body in his solid grip. 

“HEY!” He shouts as soon as they step through the sliding doors of the emergency bay, “I NEED A DOCTOR NOW!”

“Sir please don’t-”

“Pro hero Dynamight!” Another nurse interrupts the first, rushing towards them, “What are his vitals?”

Izuku feels himself get flipped onto a gurney, lying face up on the cold, thin fabric. He can feel everything down to his hair follicles itching to form goosebumps. 

He hears the nurse gasp as soon as his hair falls out of his face. 

I might be wearing pajamas, but I’m still the number one hero, he figures. I’d recognize All Might in his pajamas.

“Is that-”

“Someone who needs a fucking doctor?!” Katsuki growls, “YES.” 

The nurse barks a few orders at her coworkers and, from what Izuku can tell, sprints with him down the hallway. 

“Vitals?”

“No.”

The cart shudders when she briefly trips, “N-No? What do you mean-”

“I mean he wasn’t fucking responsive. I came home and he was on the fucking floor. No pulse, no breathing, no pupil dilation.” Katsuki’s voice moves to his other side, and there’s more movement before Izuku is lifted over to a different bed. 

The nurse hooks a machine up to him to start pumping his chest while she darts around him, checking various other vitals. 

“Shit.” She whispers to herself, pressing her warm hands into his wrist harder. 

Someone slams open the door, running to Izuku’s side. His hearing blurs while they yell orders at each other, pricking Izuku with various needles. 

“C’mon.” A new, higher-pitched male voice grunts in his ear as what he can assume is a shot of adrenaline is pumped into his fresh IV. 

“You said you found him like this?” Another female voice asks, farther in the corner of the room where he figures Katsuki is watching. 

“He passed out, there’s no obvious trauma. I have no fucking idea why.” Katsuki grunts, voice warbling. “He was on patrol a few hours ago but there was nothing in the report that would warrant this.”

“It’s not looking…” She pauses, “It’s not ideal, but we can’t rule out the possibility of it being a quirk.”

“Nothing is rousing him. We can keep the compressions going, but his body isn’t showing postmortem symptoms. I think, truly, if he comes back it will be regardless of what we do.”

Katsuki sighs, “I’m going to call his mom. Take the machine off him, she shouldn’t see him like this.”

Izuku’s head jostles as they remove the machine, his chest already feeling the ache and forming bruises. 

The nurse clamps a heart rate monitor onto his finger and leaves his side, rolling whatever monstrosity of a contraption they had waiting for him on a cart out of the room. 

It’s completely silent for a few minutes, not even the usual steady beep of his heart that he associates with the hospital to keep him company. 

The door swings open and footsteps move towards his side. 

He knows it’s Katsuki as soon as their hands touch. 

His husband’s warm hands cup his own, rubbing circles into his skin. 

“If you die on a random ass fucking Thursday morning when you’re not even working I’ll make sure they send you to whatever hell exists for idiots like you.” 

Izuku laughs inwardly, enjoying Katsuki’s touch. 

“Shitty prank. You broke your favorite mug.”

Ah damn, he forgot about that. 

Katsuki’s hair tickles his forearm as the man presumably leans down, pressing his lips to Izuku’s inner wrist, “If you leave me I’ll never forgive you.” He stretches a hand over Izuku’s stomach, resting it on his soft sleep shirt. “I love you, I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

“Come back to me, Izuku.”

And Izuku wishes more than anything that he knew how.