#todoroki drabble

[seumyo]

todoroki shouto and his 8-month-old son having identical pouty faces.

It becomes trouble when your husband and 8-month-old son are quiet as you’re about to finish preparing dinner. You could sense it, like a superpower you could only unlock when you reached a certain milestone in life.

“It’s just a piece of soft biscuit. Maybe we can give him only a little—“

“No, Shou.”

You had only denied your son a snack once, and yet, the betrayal in his big, watery eyes made it seem like you had committed an unforgivable crime.

Your eight-month-old son, snug in Todoroki’s arms, was pouting hard—his chubby cheeks puffed out, lips trembling, and his tiny hands curled into fists against his father’s chest. Tears clung to his thick lashes, threatening to spill at any moment. He was the very image of pitiful distress.

And Todoroki?

He wasn’t much better.

He’s holding your son with an almost identical expression—unmistakably sulking, his lips pressed together in silent protest (but he knew he could never win this war against you). It didn’t help that your son was his near-perfect replica, down to the way his tiny eyebrows furrowed in quiet displeasure. The only major difference was this little boy inherited your eyes.

Thank the heavens, because you almost came to the conclusion that Todoroki reproduced by himself via asexual reproduction.

Because it was dangerous how alike they looked.

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “Oh, come on. It was just one snack.”

Todoroki’s grip on your son shifted slightly as he responded, voice flat but clearly displeased. “It was just a small piece.”

The baby, as if understanding that his father was taking his side, whimpered softly and nuzzled closer to his father’s chest, letting out a tiny, heart-wrenching sniffle.

“Dinner is literally a minute away. He’ll survive.”

“He might starve and lose his healthy body,” Todoroki tells you warily.

“Shou, take one good look at our son. He’s chubbier than any of his older cousins, plus, we feed him formula 5 times a day, he eats solid food twice, and even gets a snack when he wakes up from his naps—so don’t tell me he’ll starve when he eats more than we do combined.”

Your husband didn’t argue further, but his silence spoke volumes. He gently rubbed your son’s back, sighing as the little boy let out another sniffle. You knew this game—Todoroki might not be saying anything, but his entire posture screamed, “I think you’re being unfair, but I won’t push it… even though I’m clearly upset.”

“The pouting isn’t going to work on me.”

Todoroki blinked, expression unchanged. “I’m not pouting.”

“You are,” you told him. “And he’s just copying you.”

At that, he finally glanced down at the baby in his arms. Your son blinked up at him, sniffling again before sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“…I think this is just his natural expression,” Todoroki finally said, deadpan.

“Uh-huh. I don’t think we’ll ever need a DNA test to prove that he’s yours.”

“Why would we need a DNA test when I’m the only man you’ve ever been with? And our son also looks like me—“

“Oh, Shou. It was a joke,” you sigh lovingly.

“Oh.”

Todoroki hummed, shifting your son slightly so he could wipe away a stray tear from the baby’s cheek. “Your mother is strict,” he murmured, speaking softly to him as if he wasn’t right in front of you. “Very heartless.”

“Excuse me?”

The baby hiccupped, seemingly agreeing.

Todoroki glanced up at you, the slightest hint of amusement evident in his eyes. “It’s true.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Unbelievable. If I left meals to you, he’d be living off of cold soba and whatever random snacks you keep in the fridge.”

Todoroki didn’t deny it (for the most part).

“But I do take cooking classes now...”

“Mhm.”

He gently bounced your son in his arms, his gaze softening as your baby yawned, snuggling closer to his chest now that the dramatics had settled.

You sighed, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your son’s head. “You’ll thank me later, little pouty boy,” you murmured before glancing up at your husband. “And you—stop ganging up on me with him.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied, completely straight-faced.

You gave him a knowing look. “Uh-huh.”

A comfortable silence settled between you before you turned back to the stove, giving the curry one last stir. “Dinner’s ready.”

He smiled. “Finally.”

You shot him a playful glare, though there was no real heat behind it. You took your son from his arms, adjusting him on your hip before pressing a small kiss to his chubby cheek.

“Alright, come on, little pouty boy.”

Todoroki followed closely behind. “Which one?”

You laughed at that.

“Both of you.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[samulogy]

➵ giving pro hero!shouto his first head. m!reader

shouto had never really thought about it before.

sex, desire—those things had always been secondary, distant, something he never put much focus on. his life had been too structured, too controlled, too centered around training and expectations to leave much room for anything else.

it was just a passing thought, then suddenly it wasn’t.

and now—

now, you’re on your knees in front of him, eyes dark with something unreadable, hands splayed over shouto’s thighs as you lean in close.

shouto’s breath hitched. his fingers twitched at his sides, unsure of what to do, where to put them, or how to handle this. he knows you would never hurt him on purpose, but still.

“relax, shou,” you muttered. “you’re tense.”

shouto swallowed hard, biting the urge to let out a soft whimper. “this—this is—”

you tilt your head, waiting. “this is what?”

he opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

but he wanted it.

and you knew that.

knew it from the way shouto had gasped under your touch, from the way his hips had jolted slightly when your fingers brushed over the obvious bulge through his pants when you just got out of the shower.

“you’ve never done this before, have you?”

shouto exhaled sharply, shaking his head as his fingers curled into the sheets beneath him. and that’s cute, isn’t it? shouto gets to give you all of his firsts. kiss. sex. everything he gets to experience with you.

you chuckled. “god, you’re adorable, baby.”

he flushed.

“shut up.”

“make me.”

then—

your hands moved, slow and deliberate, undoing the button of shouto’s pants, pulling down the zipper. shouto’s eyes are probably burning holes through your skull at this point from how hard he was looking. it was really happening.

your fingers curled around his semi-hard cock, warm and sure, and shouto shut his eyes at the sensation. you gave him a few experimental strokes, your nail slightly digging into his sensitive tip—and shouto was arching his back from the simple stimulation.

“fuck,” he whined, voice tight. “g—gentle . .”

you hummed, amused, before leaning in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock. it’s long, warm, and well-trimmed—as if he was anticipating this. shouto’s whole body jerked.

and then—

hot.

wet, overwhelmingly hot, as you took him into your mouth, tongue flicking against the sensitive underside, lips wrapping around his cock in a way that sent sparks down shouto’s spine. shouto could no longer swallow his moans, his hands flying to your hair before he could think better of it.

hot and cold.

because shouto just now remembered that you had a tongue piercing. god—the cold metal ball gliding along his cock was too much—shouto could just cum like this.

you made a pleased noise, encouraging, before sinking lower, taking more of him in, your fingers gripping shouto’s thighs to hold you steady.

shouto’s head tipped back, breath ragged.

you were—

god, you were good at this. too good. like you had done this before—of course, you had probably done so, like you knew exactly what would make him come undone at your mercy. shouto didn’t even realize he was shaking until you pulled back slightly, looking up at him through your lashes.

“look at you,” you chuckled, thumb swiping over the flushed head of shouto’s cock. “so worked up already.”

shouto glared down at you, but it was ruined by the way his breath stuttered when you licked a slow stripe along his length, flicking your tongue back and forth his tip—and shouto swore he saw stars dancing in his vision.

“a—mmngh . . y/n, wanna cum, please,” he begged sweetly, tears appearing in his beautiful face.

“don’t worry, baby. i always have you, yeah?”

then—

you took him in again, deeper this time, until shouto’s mind blanked completely. if he became addicted to the feeling, it’s most certainly your fault.

[todoroki-waifu]

Todoroki x F! Reader

Warnings: Everyone is aged up appropriately! Mentions of alcohol and female reader.

Scenario: Drunk confessions.

Word Count: 773

Genre: Fluff

--------

"Happy birthday, Mina!" The entire class 1A was gathered at Hagakure's house, throwing a surprise party for the pink hero. It had been so long since everyone gathered together so it was nice seeing everyone at the same time. 

However, you were glad that you and Todoroki continued to see each other often even after graduating from UA. It was hard getting everyone to one location due to conflicting schedules. 

You always hung out with the half and half hero at least two or three times a week, especially on Fridays and weekends. You both would exchange texts frequently as well.

Todoroki wasn’t the only one you closely connected with after UA, but he was different. You had the biggest crush on your close friend. It was so hard to read him so you could never determine if he returned those feelings.  

Ah, if only you knew the truth.

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

"You okay, Todoroki-kun?" The half and half hero directs his gaze towards his green haired friend.

"Ah, yes. Sorry, I was. . .distracted." He sips on his beverage, Midoriya looking towards where Todoroki was focused on. He sees you talking with Tsuyu, Uraraka, Aoyama, and Iida, most likely catching up with the four. He looks back at his friend after hearing him sigh quietly. Todoroki had his cup to his lips becoming distracted again by your laugh.

"You haven't told her yet, have you?" Midoriya asks, fully aware of his feelings for you.

"No, not yet. I'm not sure how to approach it nor am I sure of her feelings for me." Todoroki lowers his cup, his slightly sad gaze directed downwards.

"I-I'm sure she feels the same! You two are pretty close, huh? She's not really like that with anyone else. Besides, if she wasn't that comfortable with you, she would've said something."

"I suppose."

"But no pressure, Todoroki-kun! C'mon, let's just enjoy and see what everyone else is up to." Midoriya knew how madly in love both of you were with one another. 

He had been harboring this secret for quite some time and it has been killing him. He promised both of you to not say a word but it was so awkward being in the middle. He just wanted his two friends to be happy!

---------

A couple hours have passed by and you were enjoying everyone's company despite it being a little loud. But you didn't mind. It was filled with joy, laughter, and some good music.

You and Todoroki found yourselves in the kitchen, taking a celebratory shot with the birthday girl. Once she finishes her drink, she leaves to find Hagakure and Jirou.

"Oh boy, I'm gonna need a break." Todoroki hears you say and he glances over to you, seeing your face more flushed than usual. You had both your hands on your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating off your skin. He could also feel his own face increasing in temperature, but it was more due to how cute you looked rather than the alcohol.

Your adorable pout, the blush across your face, and the cute expressions you made in reaction to something made him weak. He diverted his thoughts back to your comment, not wanting to get caught staring.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course! I'm with Todoroki, Shouto, the best person in the whole, wide world and my biggest crush!"

"E-excuse me? Crush?"

"Mhm! I love Todoroki, Shouto! He's the sweetest, kindest, and most handsomest man I know. He's also really smart and an amazing hero. I love watching him fight, but I hate it at the same time because I get really sad when he gets hurt. But he's so cool when he goes whoosh with his right arm and them bop with his other. He's just so.. so perfect!" You giggled to yourself.

"Is he now? Sounds like a good guy."

"He's the greatest! But you can't tell anyone, okay?" You held up a finger on the tip of your nose and lips, trying to enforce how important that your secret stays quiet.

"Of course not. Your secret's safe with me." He chuckles, attempting to control the smile that was trying to stretch across his entire face. He then sees you fanning yourself and immediately grabs a cold water bottle from the fridge. He opens it for you and advises you to take a sip.

Once you were hydrated and the drunken fog was fading, you realized that your thoughts had escaped from your lips. As soon as Todoroki sees a mix of horror and realization in your eyes, he quickly leans close to your ear.

"Don't worry, I heard Todoroki loves you, too.”

[archer-fb]

Todoroki calls you his snowflake

"Oh it's okay, snowflake, don't cry. Just cum for me"

"Snowflake, we need to get get going."

"Open up, Snowflake. Open wide for me"

"You look fine, Snowflake. Amazing, as always"

"Fucking hell. You feel amazing, Snowflake"

[tsubaki3192]

Men who are so emotionally constipated, or have been through enough trauma that they don't... exactly... do well with touch, but are extremely touch starved and crave love beyond anything else physical.

Men who suddenly gain an adorable S/O who is willing to do all that and more.

Men, who suddenly find themselves having someone to come home to every night; who find themselves lying beside said person every night; who's willing to hold them for as long as necessary when it gets difficult; who refuses to abandon them no matter the circumstance.

Boyfriends, who find it difficult to truly express themselves when they want to, and get frustrated whenever they have that difficulty.

Boyfriends who find their S/O so attractive that they can't help themselves, so they end up blurting out the thoughts that come to mind.

.

Boyfriends who become your husband because he made that same mistake one day, and scrambled to grab the ring.

(The same ring that had been sitting in his pocket for the last three months.)

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

JJK: Gojo, Megumi,

ToRev: Hanma, KAZUTORA, Shinichiro, SANZU, Izana, Kokonoi

HSR: Blade, AVENTURINE, DANHENG,

Genshin: KAEYA, DILUC, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao,

BNHA: Aizawa, TODOROKI, DABI,

Haikyuu: OIKAWA, Atsumu,

[tulippanes]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐘! 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈

t. shoto x reader

. ݁₊ ⊹⁀ word count: 444 . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ warnings: N/A . ݁₊ ⊹⁀ type: drabble, fluff

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would fix your uniform in case anything was out of place, even the tiniest thing, and allowed his touch to remain a second longer.

cheeky! shoto todoroki whose voice would drop an octave lower and lean in close to your ear to whisper something to you, even when not needed, just to see you shudder and he’d have a ghost of a smirk on his face.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would casually throw a random compliment at you so he could see your flustered expression. “you look pretty today,” he said in a monotone voice. it was out of the blue . you blinked at him and felt your face heating up. he looked you up and down, almost as if feeling satisfied with himself, before going on about his day.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would sit beside you, close enough that his thigh is pressed right against yours. close enough that he could not so subtly brush his arm against yours. close enough that when he turned his head to look at you, he could see every single feature of yours. his eyes would stay glued on your face until you turned to look at him too, only for him to look away once you do.

cheeky! shoto todoroki whose hand would come up to wipe off any crumb on the corner of your mouth after you ate something. his thumb thoughtlessly lingered on your bottom lip before he pulled away to act as if nothing happened.

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would sulk if you were to say no to something he wanted you to say yes to. “stop pouting,” you said while he averted his gaze.

“i’m not pouting,” he quietly huffed. you sighed before you gave in, “if i say yes will you stop moping?”

“yes.”

cheeky! shoto todoroki who would pretend as if he’d done none of these things only to then subtly tease you about your reactions. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bluntly stated. your eye twitched, you were visibly exasperated. “uhm, yeah you do. you know when you- er..” you trailed off as you tried to put your words together.

“when i what?” he asked with a tilt to his head.

“you know!”

“i really don’t,” he said while he took a step closer to you. he stared at you, watching you fumble your explanation.

you waved a hand in dismissal, “nevermind.” the tiniest of a smug smile curved on his lips, a suspicious little glint in his gaze and he hummed.

“did it make you nervous?”

“so you did know!” you shouted, and all he responded with was a light chuckle.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shoto todoroki is fucking shameless. and surprisingly clingy.

he’d done a good job becoming a little more social little by little. he’s still a little wonky and awkward during the few times he tries to make conversation, but he tries and that’s the good part. you’re proud of him.

you’ve known shoto since you were kids, his closest friend, you’d seen him through it all and you’re so grateful that he’s found friends he feels comfortable and happy with, though he always reassures you that you’re dearest to him, which always makes you a little too giddy and flustered for somebody who’s supposed to be his closest friend and nothing more.

you’re in the cafeteria chatting with your mutual friends, shoto had told you to go off without him since he needed to go the bathroom and you found yourself sitting next to midoriya when he’d scooched in next to you, happy to see there was still a spot for him at the table. you liked midoriya a lot, he was sweet, cute and most importantly he made shoto come out of his shell in a way that you regrettably never could, plus the way he flails around when he gets embarrassed is pretty funny.

(you did notice ochaco’s face going completely blank for a few seconds, but you didn’t think much about it.)

after a few minutes of giggling and chatting shoto shows up, and something is immediately wrong with the way his natural straight face goes absolutely dead in the span of three seconds. it’s subtle, but you know him and it’s there. there also seems to be a chill in the room now.

he’s at your side of the table in three seconds, but he doesn’t register your smile in greeting as his cold gaze is glued to the green haired boy next to you.

“midoriya,” and his voice even sounds a little deeper, colder as he speaks like he somehow managed to use his right side on his mouth.

“that’s my seat.” he states calmly.

“oh ! my bad, todoroki !” izuku splutters an apology, but shoto’s eyes do not waver, staying fixed on the boy until he grabs his tray and makes a move to stand “i didn’t realize this was your spot, sorry !”

you feel a little bad at how intensely he’s apologizing, but you’re still shell shocked about that look. shoto seems unfazed though, his expression morphs slightly when izuku goes to squeeze in next to iida.

“i always sit next to yn.”

it’s so stupid. really, it is. how fast that makes your heart beat. because shoto does always sit next to you, he always has and he still always does when you come over to his house. but it’s the fact that he didn’t say he always sits here, in his unassigned assigned seat.

he said he always sits next to you. and your mind and heart races.

you don’t get much time to think because immediately he’s next to you, sighing before sitting as close to you as he can. he looks over to you and you look back, still a little startle but his features are soft again when he looks at you. he drops his utensils to thread his fingers with yours under the table.

“ did you wash your hands, mister ?” you tease, but you squeeze his hand when he squeezes yours. he frowns but it’s not the one from before. it almost looks like a pout and you snort.

“yes, i did.” he snips, you giggle and his eyes soften. even as you assure him you were just kidding he doesn’t mind, he couldn’t be mad at you.

you offer him a bite of your lunch as truce and he leans forward and plops a piece in his mouth from your chopsticks, then offers you a bit of his precious soba noodles and even holds a hand below them so they don’t spill because he insists on feeding you himself.

your friends pretend they don’t see the lowkey romantic exchange, but with the way shoto keeps insisting to have you eat his food and the soft barely there smile when you crack a joke that manages to break through his icey demeanor, they can start to figure out why he wanted to sit next to you so bad.

[matteglaze]

Thinking abt Todoroki Shouto, and how he isn't as dense as he comes across...

When reading fanfics Shouto is always oblivious and dense, and yes, I wholeheartedly agree with that—

But i feel like Shouto also does it on purpose, you know? Like, one day you're both talking, and he's just soo up close to your face. 'He probably doesn't realize' you rationalize inside your head, but no, he's definitely aware of the affect he has on you. Your reactions are cute, he thinks, cute in the way he can't seem to stop teasing you.

I think he'd pay extra close attention to people that are close to him, people he holds dear, so whenever you stutter, or your mind goes and blank and you think 'Oh, I hope he didn't notice that—' he does.

I think that's why I like the idea that he's actually a little menance, but the worst part is that he gets away with it !!

Whether it's saying something so humbling and out of depth— something that many would take offense to but think, 'well, he didn't really mean it that way— that's just how he is', NOPE!! he definitely meant it that way, but not clarifying anything saves him the trouble so why should he care yk...

Though, he mostly (all the time really) does it with you. Getting up in your personal space, saying things like "When we're on a mission together, I feel like I can handle anything as long as you're the one by my side"— and it flusters you sooo badly, but no, this is Shouto we're talking about, clearly he didn't mean it like that, right? Right? (And the entire time, he's trying to bite down a Cheshire grin)

So, yes, in the earlier years of being a hero he wasn't really great at communication and unaware of social cues— but now, he's practically evil with the way he acts around you.

Sometimes you think you see it; you're going to call him out on his behavior. There's no way he didn't know what he was doing when he held your face in his hands on a hot summer day, pulling you close and saying, "Is this cooling you down?" (No, actually, this was just heating you up)

But whenever you do call him out on it—

"You know, you're not that slick." You say one day, ice cream cone in hand as you walk next to him, bumping him with your hip. Your eyes slide over towards his mismatched ones, gauging his reaction closely. If you were anyone else you would have probably missed the slight quirk of his lip; the uplift of his brows. But you don't, and the grin on your face overtakes most of your features. Maybe today will be the day he finally admits it. Instead he doesn't speak, takes one lick of his mint chocolate ice cream and then he turns to you, a silent question appearing on his face. A taunt.

You let out a humourless breath, cone tight in your hand as you point it in his direction. Accusing him of something both of you know you won't be able to prove, but he knows you know, and you know he knows you know. But, it'd be really great if he could just admit it, because it's almost like a game.

A game between just the two of you.

"Don't try and act blonde now!" You chide, biting on your bottom lip to control the smile that tries to force it's way on your face.

Shouto smiles at your antics, leaning in close to you, and all of a sudden he completely invades your senses. The smell of mint on his lips is so close, and yet so far. He stares deeply into your eyes, and just as you thought you were getting closer to the truth— he brings his thumb up to wipe absent mindlessly at the corner of your mouth. He pulls back, looks you in the eyes, and takes a tentative lick at the frosty flavour on his thumb. With a cat-like tilt to his head, he says, "I'm not blonde?"

But, the worst part is whenever he speaks about you to others, he speaks so fondly of you; like one would do about their partner— but you guys aren't together. Sometimes he does it right in front of your face whenever you guys are at a hero gala. Shouto sees you talking to a new and upcoming, young, pro-hero and he immediately comes to your side. With how close he is, and with the things he says to them, "I can never imagine myself without them by my side." It gives people the idea that you're both, you know, a thing.

Little do you know, he's been playing this 'game' ever since high school, and even though the two of you aren't exclusive— it doesn't mean he can't get in his fun.

Todoroki Shouto is not good for your health.

[bunnyyyuu]

even if he won't say it, touya really is a big softie for you.

you know it when you see the look on the league's faces when he lets you get close enough to touch—it's a "what the fuck is wrong with dabi?" look. you can see the confusion and near repulsion amplify tenfold when not only does he allow you to grasp his hand, he holds yours back. everyone in the LOV knows dabi would rather die than have anyone's hands near his scarred skin.

you know it when, on non-busy days, he follows you with a fake reluctance to the so-called "hangout spot" of the league's hideout. at this point, spinner is always asking you to "get dabi" because everyone knows he won't let anyone else drag him out. but when your big eyes plead with him to spend some quality time with the LOV, he just can't say no.

you know it when he hisses a sharp "no, get your own," when a soul dares to ask for a bite of his food (even if he's complaining about it being bad three seconds later), but will hand-feed you a big bite of your own. sometimes, he'll even offer you the rest if you really seem to like it.

you know it when he hides his face in a pillow as you diligently change the staples on his back. he knows he can do it himself—you know he can too, considering he was stapled up years before you met him—but he knows you'll do it better. you make sure his skin is aligned perfectly, each silver sliver placed evenly apart. you make him look like a work of art. it doesn't hurt like it used to, is what he always says, but he's still biting down on that pillow like he'll die otherwise.

you know it when your hand is wrapped around his cock under the covers while you two lie face-to-face. his hands are in your hair or on your waist as he bucks into your fist. white lashes are against cheeks, sheilding those teary turquoise eyes from you. even if the dim light, almost all of his pale flesh is dusted pink. when he's close, he'll pull you flush against him and duck his face into the crook of your neck. he keeps humping your hand, tip now rubbing and spreading a mess of pre against your soft stomach. he's whining, and he's greedy for you, and his whole body feels like it's on fire in a good way for once, and his brain is a mess except for one, consistent thought—you. "thank you," he rushes out of his lips between moans as he spurts cum on your tummy, "'love you."

you know it.

[seumyo]

I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG

PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?

FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.

NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!

MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.

Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.

His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.

It reminded him of someone. Someone close.

You.

And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.

Ayane’s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.

As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way you always stood firm despite your fears.

God, it felt like seeing you all over again.

“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”

Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”

He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.

As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.

“[First Name], I—”

Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.

Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.

Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to come to terms with it.

“Sensei?”

The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”

Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?

What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.

“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”

“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”

Her words hit too close to home.

“Thank you,” he could only murmur.

Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”

But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.

Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.

Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.

The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.

In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.

He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.

Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?

“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.

“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”

The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.

He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.

“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.

“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.

“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”

The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever you tried to drag him along to something.

“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”

And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.

“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.

“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.

It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.

“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.

Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.

Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.

Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P

His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”

He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.

“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”

The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.

“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.

“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”

He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, wherever you are.”

As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.

TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.

Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.

“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.

Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”

The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.

“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”

Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.

“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”

He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.

“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”

The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.

“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.

“I need you now, please.”

The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.

You did like sunsets, didn’t you?

“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”

He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.

“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”

Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.

“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”

He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.

Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.

“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”

As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.

He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.

SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.

If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.

Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.

All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.

Now, it was just silence.

With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.

“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”

He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.

He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.

He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.

“I saw this and thought of you!”

Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.

“Me?”

You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”

Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.

Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.

He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.

The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.

Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.

The prince has been so stressed lately.

I wish I could take it all away.

He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.

Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.

Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.

Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.

He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.

“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”

He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.

You’re going to be amazing. Always.

A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.

When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.

“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”

He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.

Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.

“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”

The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.

SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[grenadehearts]

MHA BOYS SMAU - we listen and we don't judge trend

sorry guys for the super long break i took from posting but here is a smau finally 😞

ugh i love kirishima

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[dollyfetti]

“kiss me.”

“i’ve never kissed before.”

you roll your eyes with a small giggle. “shoto,” you start warmly, scooting closer to him on your bed. “you don’t need to know how..” you pause, trying to find the right words while the boy blinks back at you with a blank expression like always.

“it’s easy! like.. just..!” you demonstrate with a little pucker of your lips and squeeze of your eyes, bringing a very tiny smile onto shoto’s lips. he has to admit to himself, he’s a little nervous. he wants to be good, but how can he be good at something he’s never done?

“will you kiss me kindly?” he murmurs, white lashes kissing his cheeks as he blinks at you like a curious cat.

your toothy smile widens and you nod immediately. “sho, i will kiss you so kind, midoriya will seem like a jerk.”

he frowns, shaking his head a bit. “he could never be-”

“i know, i know,” you cut him off with a soft grin.

you look down, watching his hand press flat against his knee, like he’s unsure of what to do with it. you hum, taking it into yours. he follows your gaze, frown melting into his little smile once more as your fingers roll over his skin.

when he looks back up, you’re already admiring him. it’s a thing you do, where you silently take in every inch of his face.

your eyes flicker to his lips and you lean just a little closer. you hear his small inhale, and internally coo at your shy boy. “i’m going to kiss you now, okay?” you mumble, still caressing his hand with utmost care.

“yes.” he murmurs back, closing his eyes. “go ahead, sweet girl.”

the nickname brings a pitter patter to your heart, and that’s the push you need to press your lips against his. they’re soft, not that you expected anything less. they’re hesitant and awkward, but filled with love anyhow, and you find yourself giddy at the fact that he’s taking his time.

his lips rub against yours in a nervous manner, but his hand squeezes yours a bit before bringing his other up to cup your cheek. he even opens his eyes for a few seconds to see the happy look on your face before pulling back with an exhale of relief.

“good, right?” you say with a coo, leaning your face against his hand unconsciously.

his face softens more, if that’s even possible, and he nods gently. “yes. very good, i think.”

[ink-stainedkiss]

‘Jacked and Kind’ Drabble - Bnha Boy Trio

Synopsis: Doing the ‘A Boy Who’s Jacked and Kind’ with Bakugo, Todoroki, and Midoriya!

A/N: This was a request! A fun one might I add. Hopefully you guys like it and don’t forget you can always request Oneshots, drabbles, Headcannons, etc! 🫶🏻

Warnings:None

Word Count: 1.1k

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo wasn’t stupid, he’s seen the trend, and when you brought it up to him, he wanted no part in it.

“C’mon Katsuki,” You whined, waving your screen in front of him,”It’ll be cute,” He huffed,”I don’t care.” Frowning, you plopped onto the couch next to him,”Why are you so against it?” He continued to read the book in his lap, slightly annoyed by your persistent,”Because it’s a stupid fuckin’ trend. Why do you need to film it to prove I can pick you up?” Smirking, you draped yourself over the boy, putting on a pitiful performance,”So we can prove our love.”

Scoffeing, Bakugo shoved you off of his arm, unfazed by your words,”Yeah, whatever.” You decided to move onto the next tactic,”I mean, if you’re too weak to do the trend then I understand…” Alas, Bakugo showed no reaction to your provocation. Your shoulders dropped and he let out a chuckle,”Did you really think that would work? You’re not as smart as I thought.”

Clearly the ‘kind’ part didn’t apply to your boyfriend. You groaned audibly and got up, finally leaving Bakugo to his reading. You stood, staring sorrowfully at this couple on your phone,”I guess I’ll ask Eijirou instead, I’m sure he’ll be up for it.”

Like a flipped switch, Bakugo was on his feet in an instant, his book left behind,”Like hell you will.” He uttered,”Set up your damn phone.” A giddy smile spread to your face as you set up your phone. I knew that would work.

Bakugou stood next to you begrudgingly, a scowl depicted on his features. The music started and you hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t get revenge by tossing you over his shoulders. His large hands gripped your hips and you didn’t have anytime to grab his wrist before you were being lifted from the ground. You were star struck. I didn’t even jump. Bakugo snickered at your reaction and flexed slightly for the camera. You posed for the camera, feeling Bakugo’s hand resting comfortably on your thigh. Right before the music ended, Bakugo flipped off the camera, making you let out a laugh.

He let you down easily, mumbling under his breath about how stupid this was and he was going right back to his book. That night, your post had blown up. You rested on your bed with Bakugo showing the hilarious comments.

i feel so disrespected.

in front of my salad??

the audacity to be in my fyp…

so cute! *blocks*

If one thing was true, Bakugo fit the jacked description extremely well.

・❥・

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto hadn’t seen the trend at all, which wasn’t a shocker, but when you came to him so energetic, he was curious to see what it was all about. He had to admit, the trend was cute. You stared at him with such hopeful eyes,”So? Can we do it Sho’?” He glanced at the video again, then at your face,”Will it make you happy?” You bobbed your head rapidly,”Yes, I’ve been dying to do this with you.” He gave a small smile, then gave a curt nod,”Then let’s do it.”

You were buzzing with happiness and your smile was blown wide in front of the camera. You started lip syncing to the music and then you felt Shoto’s hands on your hips. You knew Shoto had muscle (he always let you caress them whenever you liked) but you were still shocked by the ease of his movements. He gracefully lifted you, placing you onto his shoulder and you posed for the camera, crossing your leg over the other like a princess. Once it was over, Shoto put you on the ground softly, and as a thank you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek,”Thank you, Shoto.”

After a few hours, your video was flooded with likes and comments, but as you looked over the video, you realized Shoto wasn’t even looking at the camera. He didn’t flex or smile, instead his eyes were locked onto you, who was too busy looking pretty for the camera. He looked completely whipped for you and you couldn’t help but show it back to Shoto. The boy gave a simple shrug,”You looked beautiful, I couldn’t help myself.”

His words made you blush and you had to cover yourself ur embarrassment by tucking yourself into Shoto’s embrace. He didn’t know why you needed a hug all of a sudden, but he was happy to provide. When you calmed down, you both went through the comments. Shoto was a bit confused,”Why are they so angry?” You chuckled, shaking your head,”No, they’re not mad Sho’, they’re being sarcastic.”

on my wifi?

if you look closely you can see me hanging in the background 😊

you guys are adorable!! I’m standing in the middle of the highway rn!!

・❥・

Izuku Midoriya

Let’s be honest. Izuku is the one to come to you about the trend. He saw it on his feed and was thrilled to try it out. He practically bounced on his feet as you watched the couple. You knew Izuku wasn’t as tall as most of the guys on the trend, but if you knew one thing, it was that Izuku had arms for days, let alone his muscular legs. You passed Izuku his phone back, raising a brow at him,”And why do you wanna do this?” Izuku lit up, puffing his chest out with pride,”So I can show you off.”

If that wasn’t a perfect answer, then you don’t know what is. You were setting up his phone immediately. The song began to play and you stood next to Izuku happily. He grabbed your waist, lifting you swiftly onto his shoulder. He flexed his bicep, winking toward the camera, but unexpectedly he was bumping his shoulders up and you were slipping from your spot. You let out a gasp, but then Izuku’s arm was placed securely on your back and under your knees. You giggled out of shock and Izuku’s heart melted at how pretty you looked. He quickly stole a kiss and when he pulled away the video was already done.

He set you down carefully, a heavy blush tinting his face,”Sorry, I got carried away.” You rolled your eyes playfully,”You definitely don’t have to apologize.” He stood over your shoulder, watching the video back and he would be lying if he said he didn’t immediately save it to his camera roll. Later that day you were both cuddling on the couch and you checked the video, which was overfilled with hilarious comments.

am I interrupting something..?

stood up, shed a tear, then applauded

pls get a room.

this has to be cyberbullying.

You both were entertained by the comments, but then Izuku pointed to your caption,”Did you call me a ‘Short King’?”

[paniniani]

flustered: shoto x reader texting smau

thinking about bf! shoto who’s oblivious ass doesn’t realize how suggestive his words are, or why you seem so hot and bothered because of them

an: i felt 13 years old making this but i hope you guys enjoy

[missdynamighttt]

This is not a request or anything like that, I just wanted to know which MHA guys would be willing to have a threesome, as canon and as less OOC as possible in your opinion!

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ FINALLY FINALLY OH MY GOD IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS, THANK YOU SO MUCH NONNIE. THE REQUESTS I GET ARE NICE BUT THEY ARE KINDA OOC AND PURE ON HARDCORE PORN IM NOT SURE IM USED TO YET.

NO TO THREESOME:

katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, tenya iida

honestly? i get these requests but i dont believe they'd be into that or want to do it. its a nice thought but its more that they just want you all to themselves.

they dont believe in sharing. plus, with the lack of intimacy they grew up with, it took AWHILE before yall have mindblowing sex. they won't let another person see how beautiful you look, when its supposed to be all for him.

its more of an ego thing for katsuki. even if you wanted to, his pride couldn't take it. besides, he can take care of you all by himself. he doesn't need another dick, or even a dildo to have you screaming and crying out in pleasure. and if it was a girl, he'd probably just ignore her anyway.

"sure as hell ain't sharin' you, sugar, thats for sure. tch, c'mere, gimme a kiss. i'll show you why my dick's all you need. gonna fuck these stupid ideas outta that pretty little head of yours."

meanwhile, shoto and iida is just reluctant. like i mentioned, it took you awhile in the relationship before hes fucking you so good. it also just feels weird when another person sees him like that, when its only all for you to see.

"my love... as... exciting, as the idea is, i don't think i like it. is that okay? i'm sorry. i'll make it up to you. now spread these legs for me, c'mon. i'll eat you out real good, i promise."

WILLING TO TRY:

sero hanta, kirishima eijirou, midoriya izuku

they wouldn't say outright no but not outright yes either. they're reluctant because another person would see you all vulnerable like that but the idea of bringing you more pleasure gets his dick really hard.

"it.. depends who its with, mi amor. i dont like it but i don't hate it. let's make a list, yeah? narrow it down and shit and we'll see." (y'all end up picking denki.)

"that's.. not what i was expecting. don't get me wrong, i don't hate it. its hot but its a little weird, y'know what i mean? okay, good. who to ask? bakugo would kill me... mina? she would too. but i'll ask." (she said hell yeah)

"oh! um... sure, why not? i'm not sure who we could ask, though.. maybe kacchan? oh! or, uraraka-san maybe. i'll call him and you call her." (both of them said yes but y'all decided on katsuki. you got drunk on both of their dicks real good.)

YES TO THREESOME:

denki kaminari

i think y'all know why he says yes. this man is kinky as shit, no denying that. he's a pervert but he's not a maniac like mineta. the image of you all fucked out taking on 2 cocks or kissing another woman while you're bouncing on his cock and he's eating her out.. its hot.

the challenging thing here was finding someone who was willing to have a threesome with him though. the person who ended up saying yes was sero. i imagine using both of their quirks to real good use, like bondage or shocking your needy clit.

"fuck, fuck, fuck. yeah? you like getting fucked by that, don't cha? c'mon baby, fuck his cock like you mean it, c'mon."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧