//A New Way To Cope Pt 2\\ Bakugo Katsuki X Fem Reader

Yall I'm like rlly constipated rn XD😍

“Ashes and New Beginnings”

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Genre: Action / Romance / Angst / Fluff

TW: Mild violence, pregnancy, labor scene, emotional vulnerability

---

The mission was never supposed to go this far south.

You were only a few weeks away from your due date—not ideal for fieldwork, but you were stubborn. You could still move, still fight, and no one dared to argue when you gave that look. Not even him.

“Stay behind me,” Dabi had warned with a voice like low fire, his back shielding yours as the Pro Heroes ambushed the warehouse. “You shouldn’t have come. You know that, right?”

You smirked, placing a hand on your swollen belly. “You think I’d let you run off without me? Nice try, hotshot.”

He didn’t smile—Dabi rarely did—but the way his eyes flickered toward you said everything. He hated this. Hated seeing you like this, vulnerable and too close to danger. Hated that he couldn’t stop you… because he knew if it were him in your shoes, he wouldn’t stay behind either.

The fight erupted fast. Flames, explosions, quirks flashing in the dark. You held your own as long as you could—until it hit.

Pain.

A sudden, sharp contraction that stole the breath from your lungs. You dropped to your knees behind the crates, gripping your abdomen with a shaky gasp.

No. Not now.

“Dabi!” your voice cracked, loud enough to pierce the chaos. He turned instantly, the moment burned into memory—his eyes wide, horror dawning.

You're in labor.

Everything else vanished for him. Enemies, plans, strategy—none of it mattered anymore. He bolted to your side, catching you as you doubled over, another wave of pain tearing through you.

“You weren’t supposed to—shit—okay, okay, breathe,” he muttered, voice unsteady for once, panic creeping into every word. “You’re early. Damn it.”

“I can’t—I can’t hold it—”

He lifted you easily, cradling you against his chest, heat rolling off his skin protectively. His own flames flared wildly around him, forming a vicious barrier between you and the heroes advancing.

“She’s out. She’s done. You come any closer, I burn you all to ash,” Dabi snarled.

One look in his eyes, and none of them dared take a step.

He carried you out through the smoke and ruin like a man possessed, whispering ragged reassurances as your contractions got closer, sharper, more intense. He’d never been so afraid in his life—and he’d never felt something burn hotter than the love he felt for you right then.

---

Awesome—let’s go with Parts 2 and 3: a mix of chaotic, emotional, and a bit romantic. Dabi ends up having to deliver the baby himself at a hideout. Here's the continuation:

---

The hideout was a dump—abandoned, half-burnt, and barely standing—but it was the only place close enough. Dabi kicked the door open, cursing under his breath as he laid you down on a grimy mattress. Your face was pale, sweat clinging to your forehead, eyes dazed from pain.

“This isn’t happening,” you gasped, gripping his coat with trembling fingers. “I can’t—I don’t know what to—”

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, voice sharp but trembling. “You’re doing this. You’re strong. You’ve always been. I’ve seen you tear through enemies like nothing. This? This is nothing compared to what you’ve survived.”

You nodded, tears sliding down your cheeks, your body wracked with another contraction.

Dabi ripped off his coat and laid it beneath you. He moved like someone on autopilot—heating up a towel with his flames to sterilize it, searching the place for clean-ish water and supplies.

He had no idea what he was doing. He was a villain, not a midwife. But watching you suffer? Listening to your cries of pain and fear? That broke something in him.

“I got you, baby. Just breathe for me. I’m right here.”

He knelt between your legs, your body shaking violently, and whispered every comforting word he could think of—even though his own hands trembled like hell.

And then he saw it.

“Oh, shit. I see the head.”

---

You screamed—raw, powerful, primal. And Dabi didn’t flinch. He caught your child in his scarred hands like something sacred, eyes wide with disbelief. His flames were nowhere to be seen now—just his soft breath, ragged and stunned as he wrapped the baby up in his shirt.

“It’s a girl,” he said hoarsely, his voice cracking in a way you’d never heard before.

You sobbed, partly from exhaustion, partly from overwhelming love—for the little life in his arms, and for the man kneeling beside you, the same man everyone called a monster.

Dabi leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours, his hand still shaking as he held the baby close.

“She’s got your nose,” he whispered. “Poor kid.”

You laughed weakly, grabbing his collar and pulling him into a kiss, your lips warm against his even in your drained state.

“Thanks for not setting the place on fire,” you murmured.

He chuckled. “I thought about it. But she’s kinda worth not burning the world down for.”

You looked up at him, your breath catching—not from pain this time, but from love.

“I want to name her Aiko,” you said softly.

Dabi blinked. “Love, huh?”

You nodded. He swallowed hard.

“Yeah… she’s got plenty of that now.”

---

Hours passed. You were asleep now—finally resting after everything your body had just been through. Your breath was even, your face peaceful in the dull light filtering through the cracked hideout window.

Dabi sat in the far corner, silent, still, cradling Aiko in his arms.

She was so small.

He held her like she was made of glass, terrified to even breathe too hard. His fingers—burnt, stitched, ruined—looked wrong against her smooth, perfect skin. But she didn’t seem to mind. She just blinked up at him, curious and calm.

“You’re not scared of me, huh?” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

She blinked again.

He gave a shaky laugh. “You will be. When you’re older. When they tell you stories about Dabi the killer. The villain. The monster.”

His smile faltered. His hands tightened around the blanket.

“But your mom… she’ll tell you the truth. She always sees the truth. Even when I couldn’t.”

Aiko squirmed and let out a tiny squeaky noise. Dabi instinctively rocked her—something he’d seen in movies, not something he’d ever practiced.

“Yeah, I know. Life’s gonna be rough. You’re a villain’s kid. Maybe a hero’s too, if she has anything to say about it.”

His voice dropped lower. “But I’m gonna protect you. You hear me?”

A single tear slid down his cheek—he hadn’t cried in years. Not for himself. Not even for his past.

But this was different.

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever done right.”

Aiko yawned, stretched her hand out, and wrapped her tiny fingers around one of his.

And in that moment, for the first time in forever… Dabi felt warm.

Not from his fire.

From her.

---

“Alright, what the actual hell is that?”

Twice was the first one through the door, tripping over his own feet as he pointed at the bundle in Dabi’s arms like it was a bomb. Toga peeked over his shoulder, wide-eyed and covered in someone else’s blood.

“Is that a baby? Did you kidnap a baby? Oh my god, Dabi, I love her already—wait, did you steal her?”

Dabi gave them both a withering look, eyes dark and tired, but there was no anger—just exhaustion.

“She’s mine,” he said simply.

Silence.

Shigaraki looked up from scratching his neck raw in the corner, narrowing his eyes. Spinner froze mid-sip of his canned drink. Compress blinked like someone in a stage play who forgot their line.

“…Yours?” Shigaraki repeated slowly, voice dry. “As in—you made that?”

“Yeah,” Dabi replied, glancing down at the little girl dozing in his arms. “With her.” He nodded toward the back room where you were still recovering.

Toga’s eyes widened like saucers. “You had a baby with the pretty girl with the knives?!”

“Yep.”

“I ship it.”

Twice clapped dramatically. “Dabi’s a dad! Oh god, we’re all going to die. In a cute way.”

Shigaraki stared at the baby like she was some kind of ticking time bomb. “Can it explode?”

“No,” Dabi growled.

“…yet,” Shigaraki muttered, turning away.

Toga was already at his side, peeking at Aiko with genuine awe. “She’s so tiny. You think she’ll have your quirk?”

“Hope not,” Dabi muttered. “Not mine.”

Spinner walked over, scratching his head. “So… does this mean you're, like, settling down? Changing diapers between missions?”

Dabi scoffed. “Hardly. I still burn people for a living. I just… go home after now.”

And weirdly, none of them argued. None of them mocked him. In fact, a strange sort of hush fell over the room—a rare peace.

Toga pulled out her knife and declared, “If anyone tries to hurt her, I’ll gut them.”

Dabi looked up, eyes soft. “Thanks.”

The League didn’t understand much about love or family. But they did understand loyalty. And chaos. And revenge. So protecting a tiny, flame-born baby girl?

That… they could get behind

---

It was 3:14 a.m.

Dabi sat cross-legged on the floor of the hideout, shirtless, hair sticking up in every direction, dark circles under his eyes even darker than usual. Aiko was screaming like the world was ending, her tiny face bright red, and her little fists flailing like she was throwing punches at fate itself.

He stared at her. Then at the diaper. Then back at her.

“…I’ve blown up buildings with less stress than this.”

You groaned from the cot behind him, too sore and sleep-deprived to move. “You said you had it,” you mumbled.

“I did have it. Then she peed in my eye.”

Another wail came from Aiko, and Dabi winced like someone had shoved a knife in his ribs.

“Alright, alright, damn, we’re doing this.”

He opened a fresh diaper like it was an enemy he was about to fight. He glanced at the old one, holding it between two fingers like it might explode. “You’re lucky I love you, you little gremlin.”

You snorted.

After a solid three minutes of muttering threats at the diaper, several almost burns, and at least one moment where he looked genuinely afraid of baby wipes, Dabi somehow managed to get the new one on—crooked, but on.

Aiko immediately stopped crying.

She looked up at him with big, innocent eyes, hiccupped… and smiled.

He froze.

And for the first time in a long, long time… he smiled back.

“Okay. That was almost worth the trauma.”

He picked her up carefully, resting her tiny head against his chest. She nuzzled into his warm skin, calm now, soothed by the steady beat of his heart and the low hum of his fire.

“You’re gonna wreck me, aren’t you?” he whispered.

She gave a sleepy sigh.

“…Good. I probably deserve it.”

---

Dabi was dozing on the couch, shirtless, as usual. Aiko was perched on his chest like a sleepy little loaf, fists curled, head tucked under his jaw.

It was peaceful. Soft crackling from the fireplace. Your gentle humming in the background as you cleaned up.

And then—CHOMP.

“OW—what the hell!?”

Dabi sat up with a startled yelp, eyes wide, clutching his neck. Aiko blinked at him, innocent as ever… mouth smeared with drool and the tiniest red mark forming on his collarbone.

You leaned over, squinting.

“Is that… a hickey?”

Dabi stared at the baby. Then at you. Then back at the baby.

“She just—bit me. And sucked on my skin like some tiny mosquito demon.”

You lost it, laughing so hard you nearly dropped the bottle in your hand. “You got your first dad hickey. Officially initiated.”

“I burn people for fun, and this is what takes me out?”

Just then, Toga popped her head into the room—saw the mark on his neck and immediately let out a wolf whistle.

“Well, well, Dabi! Didn’t know you were into neck stuff.”

“It’s from the baby,” he growled.

“Sure it is,” she sang, winking.

By the time the rest of the League caught wind, rumors had spread.

Twice: “Dabi’s into bite play confirmed.”

Shigaraki: “Ew. Stop breeding.”

Spinner: “Should we get her teething rings or garlic and holy water?”

Dabi groaned, covering the mark with his hand.

But later that night, when it was just the three of you again, he looked at it in the mirror. The little bruise, round and oddly perfect. It hurt like hell.

And somehow… he loved it.

“She’s already leaving scars,” he muttered, tracing the spot with a smile. “Just like her mom.”

---

It started small.

You were feeding Aiko one afternoon—just you, her, and the peaceful hum of the hideout. You offered her a spoonful of mashed carrots with the usual sweet smile.

“Here comes the airplane—”

She stared at you. Then slapped the spoon clean out of your hand.

“…Excuse me?”

From the other room, Dabi laughed. “That’s my girl.”

You glared. “Don’t encourage her.”

But it only got worse.

Later that day, you tried again—with applesauce this time.

“No, Aiko. We don’t throw food.”

Aiko looked you dead in the eye and mumbled something that sounded a lot like:

“Sh’t.”

You froze.

“…What did you just say?”

From the couch, Dabi shouted, “What did she say?!”

“She said your favorite word.”

Dabi came striding in, picking her up with this massive, proud smirk on his face. “No way. Say it again, squirt.”

Aiko grinned. “Sh’t.”

You palmed your face. “Dabi, stop smiling.”

“I’m not! I’m—okay yeah, I am. But c’mon, listen to the attitude on her. She's feral.”

“Oh my god.”

It didn’t stop there.

By the end of the week, she had a whole little sass vocabulary going:

Glares when someone touches her snacks.

Mimics Dabi’s sighs perfectly.

Says “bruh” when her bottle falls.

And, most dangerously of all—the eye roll.

Toga was obsessed.

“She’s a tiny Dabi! But cuter. And less murder-y.”

Twice tried teaching her to say “Boom, baby!” after every fart. It worked. Too well.

Shigaraki banned her from the meeting room after she threw a pacifier at him mid-rant.

Dabi? He was beaming the entire time.

“Kid’s got fire,” he said proudly, arms crossed, scarred lip curled in a grin. “Just like her old man.”

You gave him a side-eye. “If she starts setting stuff on fire next week, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal.”

(You both secretly loved it.)

---

It was raining.

Not the hard, violent kind that matched Dabi’s mood—just a steady drizzle outside the hideout, mist curling over cracked windows. You were curled up with a blanket, half-asleep, watching Aiko crawl around the dusty floor, babbling nonsense to herself.

Dabi leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded, just watching her. He did that a lot these days—quiet, present in a way he never used to be.

Aiko picked up one of his gloves from the floor. Turned it over in her hands. Dropped it. Then looked up at him.

And said it.

“Dada.”

Silence.

The rain didn’t stop. The wind didn’t pause. But something in Dabi broke.

You sat up instantly. “Wait—did she just—?”

He didn’t move. His face had gone still, unreadable. Only his eyes gave it away—wide, full of something between shock and something too tender to name.

Aiko smiled at him like it was no big deal.

“Dada.”

Dabi walked over slowly. Dropped to his knees in front of her. She touched his cheek—right where the staples met burned skin—and giggled.

“Dada.”

He laughed. Just once. Rough, soft, stunned.

“Yeah, kid,” he whispered. His voice cracked. “That’s me.”

He pulled her close—not tight, just enough to tuck his chin over her tiny head.

You watched from the couch, a hand over your mouth, heart about to explode.

He’d been called a lot of things.

Villain. Monster. Traitor. Burner. Killer.

But Dada?

That one might’ve saved him.

---

The night was quieter than usual. The storm outside had finally slowed to a gentle patter, and the hideout was filled with nothing but the occasional crackling from the fireplace. The warmth of the flames danced across the walls, casting shadows as Dabi sat on the couch, Aiko nestled against him.

She was asleep now, her small chest rising and falling in that peaceful rhythm that made even the toughest villains pause. Dabi’s hand rested lightly on her back, the familiar weight of responsibility and love settling in his bones.

You were asleep in the other room, exhausted from the day’s chaos, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi had nothing but time.

His eyes traced the small curve of Aiko’s face—so serene, so full of life. She was perfect. His daughter. His kid. The word felt foreign on his tongue, but so right.

He hadn't realized how much he needed this—this quiet, this peace, this tiny human who somehow softened everything he’d built himself into.

Carefully, Dabi let his fingers run through Aiko’s soft hair. He didn’t even think about it—he just did it. A tender motion, a simple gesture he could barely believe he was capable of.

Then, he started humming.

It was the song you always hummed to her when she was fussy, the tune that seemed to calm her every time. A melody so soft, so gentle, it made him forget the past for a moment and just exist in the now.

Aiko stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her little hand gripping the edge of his shirt as she snuggled closer. The soft sound of her breath filled the room, the night settling in deeper.

Dabi kept humming. His voice was low and unsteady, like a fire that only flickered, but in that moment, it was full of warmth—like he was finally allowing himself to feel everything he’d kept buried for so long.

He wasn’t a perfect father. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was a good one. But right now, as Aiko slept soundly in his arms, her tiny body rising and falling with each breath, he felt something he hadn’t in years—something like peace.

Aiko shifted again, this time her tiny mouth curling into a soft smile in her sleep, as if she felt the rhythm of his heart. He kissed the top of her head, his voice barely a whisper.

“I love you, kid.”

He said it so quietly, like it was something sacred, something only meant for her to hear.

And maybe she did. Maybe she always would.

“Red Riot, Meet Your Sidekick”

The late evening air was cool, but sweat beaded on your forehead as another sharp contraction hit, making you grip the passenger seat armrest with a strangled cry.

“Almost there, babe!” Kirishima said, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he sped toward the hospital. “Just keep breathing! Like we practiced, right?”

You glared at him through gritted teeth. “I am breathing, Eijirou—do you want to try doing it while your insides are trying to rip you in half?”

He winced. “Right. Sorry. Focus mode. Hero mode. Got it.”

By the time the car skidded into the emergency parking, you were already moaning through another wave. Kirishima darted out, yelling for help, and within seconds, hospital staff had you in a wheelchair and racing down the hallway.

Once you were in the delivery room, everything felt like a blur. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the hospital gown too cold, and the contractions—insanely close together.

“I feel pressure,” you gasped, clutching Kirishima’s hand. “Like...a lot of pressure.”

He blinked. “Already? That was, what, fifteen minutes since the last check?”

“I’m serious. Something’s happening. This kid isn’t waiting.”

A nurse leaned in, lifting the blanket. Her eyes widened, and she barked over her shoulder, “We need a doctor in here, now. She's crowning!”

“Wait, what?!” Kirishima looked like he’d just taken a hit to the chest. “She’s—already?!”

The nurse met your eyes. “You’re doing great, honey, but this baby’s coming fast. Can you try pushing?”

“Are you kidding?” you panted. “I feel like my soul is about to exit my body.”

“You’ve got this, babe!” Kirishima said, brushing your hair back. “You’ve done harder things. You’re the strongest person I know.”

You barely heard him. Your body was already taking over, legs trembling as another contraction surged through you. You pushed with a cry, and suddenly the room filled with urgent voices, beeping machines, and the grounding grip of your husband’s hand.

“Again!” the nurse urged. “One more time!”

With a scream and a flood of emotion, you pushed—then just like that, it was over.

A piercing cry filled the room.

Your chest heaved, eyes wide with shock and awe. A tiny, wet, pink baby was lifted into the air.

“It’s a boy!” someone called.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped as the nurse placed the baby gently on your chest. He was flushed red, squirming, and absolutely perfect.

Kirishima let out a laugh that was half-sob, half-shock. “Babe… You just— we just—holy hell.”

You looked down at the baby, eyes blurry with tears. “That was so fast.”

“Fast?” Kirishima grinned, eyes glassy. “You just beat me in a race. That was Red Riot levels of fast!”

Despite the exhaustion, you chuckled softly. “Guess he wanted to make a dramatic entrance.”

Kirishima leaned in, kissing your temple. “He’s got your timing. And your strength. You were amazing.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, soaking it all in—the warmth of your baby, the comfort of Eijirou beside you, the soft hum of nurses tidying the room.

“I think he’s gonna be a little hero,” you whispered, “just like his dad.”

Kirishima swallowed hard. “Nah. He’s gonna be a hero like his mom.”

You held your tiny son closer, smiling through tears, your heart full.

Hi hi hi!! I was just wondering if you could please write about Katsuki having a crush on the reader!! But the reader is extremely oblivious and is kinda scared to love and all that. So Katsuki is frustrated, of course, because he's not the best at feelings either, but he's willing to do his best because that's how much he loves reader lol

I hope this wasn't too much to ask! I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

OFCCC I CAN DO THAT

I'II start working on it tomorrow since it's the weekend, and it will probably be out on monday or tuesday, possibly Wednesday but i will try to post it very soon

Thank you for the request! and have a wonderful night/day!

"Coughing Crisis: A Heroic Interruption"

It was one of those days at U.A. High.

Everyone was gathered in the common room, the mood grim. Aizawa had just finished debriefing the students on a potential new threat—some villain group with a name so edgy it sounded like they were formed in a Hot Topic parking lot.

All Might stood solemnly, arms crossed. "This is no joke. The League of Villains may be making a comeback."

Bakugo scowled. "Tch. Let 'em try. I'll blow 'em to hell."

Midoriya was furiously scribbling notes, mumbling strategy ideas. Todoroki looked like he was calculating the villain’s power levels with sheer brainwaves. Even Kaminari was managing to look serious for once.

Then, just as the room hit peak intensity—

"KHHHHHHHHHH–KAHHHHHHHH–HHHKHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Everyone's heads whipped around.

It was you. Red-faced. Eyes wide. Wheezing. Coughing. Dying, possibly.

"OH MY GOD SHE’S CHOKING!" Mina screamed, knocking over a chair in her rush.

"I'm not trained for this!" Kaminari panicked, spinning in a circle like a confused Roomba.

Bakugo: "SOMEONE GET HER A DAMN WATER BEFORE SHE ASPHYXIATES AND DIES IN THE MIDDLE OF A STRATEGY BRIEFING!"

Midoriya already had a water bottle in your mouth and was nervously patting your back with the intensity of a malfunctioning massage chair. "Are you okay?! Do you need—wait, what's your quirk again? Can it fix this?! No, wait, that's not how lungs work—"

"I—I just—" you gasped between coughs, one hand in the air like you were accepting an Oscar. "I inhaled a chip wrong."

There was silence. Like, dead silence.

Then Kirishima, voice full of genuine awe: "Damn. She really said 'crunch' and almost flatlined."

Bakugo facepalmed so hard it echoed. "We're out here trying to save the world and this extra’s getting taken down by a Lays."

All Might turned away and coughed into his hand to hide his laugh. It didn’t work. Present Mic wasn’t even hiding it—he was already on the floor, crying.

You gave a thumbs up with one hand, the other still clutching your water bottle like it was your emotional support beverage. "Still alive. Kinda."

Todoroki blinked. “That was the most dramatic thing I’ve seen all week. And I watched Bakugo punch a microwave.”

“IT SHORT-CIRCUITED FIRST!” Bakugo yelled.

---

And from that day forward, every time there was a serious meeting, someone made sure to have water on hand.

You, the girl who lived through The Chip Incident, had earned your spot among heroes.

But also maybe needed to chew more carefully.

''Sticky Situations and Stone Walls"

In the prestigious halls of U.A. High, Minoru Mineta was infamous for two things: his questionable morals and his Quirk, Pop Off. Most students had learned to keep him at arm's length—some, a full hallway away. But what nobody expected was for him to have a twin brother.

Enter Mamoru Mineta—tall, stone-faced, and emotionally impenetrable. His Quirk, Stonewall, allowed him to generate massive slabs of concrete-like armor around his body, making him a literal and metaphorical brick wall. He walked into Class 1-B without a word, instantly drawing attention. Not for being flashy—but because of how normal he was.

Rumors flew.

“Wait, he’s Mineta’s twin?!”

“Are we sure? Maybe he’s just cursed to look like him.”

“Plot twist: Mineta is the evil twin.”

Unlike Minoru, Mamoru didn’t chase girls—he didn’t chase anything. He followed the rules. He trained harder than anyone. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it hit like a punch to the gut—blunt, honest, and painfully grounded.

Minoru hated him.

Well, kind of.

Okay, not really.

Because despite the endless teasing, the girls fawning over Mamoru, the constant comparisons—Mamoru always had his back. He never joined the others in mocking Minoru. In fact, he defended him. Quietly. Behind the scenes.

One day, when Mineta got caught peeking again and was nearly expelled, Mamoru stepped in.

“He’s stupid, not evil,” he said calmly to Aizawa. “Let me handle it.”

Aizawa blinked. “You want to vouch for him?”

Mamoru nodded. “He’s my idiot. I’ll keep him in check.”

And he did. Kinda. Sorta.

There was something oddly wholesome about seeing the two walk side-by-side: one a walking disaster with grapes for hair, the other a towering fortress of chill. They bickered like fire and ice. But when a villain attacked and Mamoru took a hit to shield his brother, something shifted.

Minoru realized: his brother wasn’t trying to change him.

He was just trying to protect him.

“The Janitor’s Closet Incident”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Chaos, Parental Meltdown, The Fear of God™

---

It started with a phone call.

You picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is U.A. Junior High. We need to speak with Haruki’s parent or guardian. It’s… regarding an incident.”

You immediately sat up straighter. “Is he hurt?”

There was a pause.

“…No. But you might want to sit down anyway.”

---

Bakugo showed up to the school thirty minutes later, stomping through the front office like he was about to arrest someone. You trailed behind, apologizing for the murder energy radiating off your husband.

The principal met you both at the door. “Mr. and Mrs. Bakugo. Thank you for coming.”

“Where is he?” Bakugo growled.

The principal adjusted his tie, sweating slightly. “Uh, Haruki is in the guidance office. We… caught him in a compromising position.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed.

“Compromising how?”

The principal coughed. “He was found in the janitor’s closet… with a girl.”

Bakugo blinked. Slowly. Like his body had to buffer the information before rage kicked in.

“…I’m sorry. The WHERE?”

“We believe they were… kissing.”

Kissing.

You swore you could hear Bakugo’s soul leave his body.

---

Haruki sat in the guidance office with a cold compress on the back of his neck. Not because he was injured—because the sheer panic had made him sweat so hard the nurse got concerned.

You walked in first. “Sweetheart…”

He looked up like a deer caught in a nuclear explosion.

“M-Mom—I swear—we weren’t doing anything bad!”

“Closet, Haruki?” Bakugo thundered behind you. “The janitor’s closet?! What are you, a soap opera character?!”

Haruki practically jumped out of the chair. “We were just kissing! I didn’t even—I mean—it was only for like ten seconds and—”

“TEN SECONDS?!”

You gently pushed Bakugo back before he combusted. “Let’s take a breath.”

“No!” he snapped. “First he nearly gives me a heart attack with his ‘alone time,’ then I have to give him the world’s most traumatic sex talk, and now he’s reenacting Riverdamndale in the broom closet?! What’s next? A hotel room?! A BABY?!”

Haruki was turning colors.

“I’m not gonna be a dad! I’m a kid! I don’t even know how to do laundry!”

“Damn right you don’t!” Bakugo pointed a finger like it was a loaded weapon. “And if I ever catch wind of you kissing anyone again without supervision, I’m sending you to a monastery.”

“A what?!”

“You’ll have a vow of silence and a celibacy contract by Monday!”

You snorted trying to hold back laughter. “Okay, okay. Enough. We’ll talk about this at home.”

Bakugo leaned down, eye-level with Haruki. “Do you know what I used to do to pervy boys in high school?”

“Traumatize them?”

“Worse. I gave ‘em tips.”

“Wait—what?”

Bakugo smirked. “And then I traumatized ‘em.”

Haruki groaned. “I need a new family.”

---

Later that night…

Bakugo was pacing the kitchen. “A closet, babe. Like, with brooms and mops. That’s not even romantic!”

You sipped your wine. “Be glad it wasn’t the chemistry lab.”

Bakugo paused.

“…We’re homeschooling him.”

“Milk Meltdown”

Bakugo x Fem!Reader + Daughter Chaos + Newborn Baby

Genre: Humor, Family, Fluff

Warning: Embarrassment levels are HIGH

---

You had just settled into the rocking chair, your newborn daughter latched onto your boob like it owed her money.

It was peaceful. Quiet. Almost too quiet.

Cue your four-year-old, stomping into the room like she owned the place, holding a suspiciously empty juice box.

“MOMMY!” she gasped. “IS SHE EATING YOU?!”

You blinked. “What?”

She pointed, eyes wide in betrayal. “THE BABY! SHE’S EATING YOUR BOOB!”

Bakugo, walking past with a burp cloth, froze in place like a dead NPC.

“She’s not eating me, honey,” you tried to say calmly, even though your soul had left your body from secondhand embarrassment. “It’s called breastfeeding.”

Your daughter blinked. “Like...with milk?!”

You nodded. “Yes. Mommies make milk for babies. It’s how they eat before they can have real food.”

She stared. Then stared harder.

“So you're a cow now?”

Bakugo wheezed from behind the couch.

You glared at him. “Do not laugh. I swear to God.”

He coughed into his fist. “Nope. Not laughing. Totally serious.”

Your daughter looked suspicious. “So when I was a baby, I drank from your boobs too?”

You nodded.

She screamed like she was in a horror movie.

“WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS?! I THOUGHT I JUST ATE APPLESAUCE!”

Bakugo was crying now. Fully crying.

“I’m never drinking milk again,” your daughter declared. “Ever. Never ever.”

“Good,” Bakugo said. “More for the baby.”

She turned to him, dramatic as ever. “Daddy, are your boobs full of milk too?”

You both stared.

Bakugo went redder than his hero costume. “No. No, they are not. And never will be.”

“But you got big ones,” she said, poking his chest.

You immediately whispered, “Rip, bro.”

Bakugo looked like he needed a support group.

---

Later that night…

Bakugo was laying face-down on the couch. “She called me a milk tank.”

“She’s just confused,” you said, cradling your newborn.

“She moo’d at me.”

“She’s four.”

He sat up. “I’m buying a book. No. A chart. A PowerPoint. I’m explaining everything before she thinks I lay eggs next.”

You snorted. “Go ahead. She still thinks babies come out of bellybuttons.”

He froze. “...I need a beer.”

"Explosive Delivery"

The delivery room was under siege—and it wasn’t the contractions causing the most damage.

It was you.

Sweat poured down your face, hair plastered to your forehead, and your legs were in the stirrups as another contraction tore through you like a freight train. And yet, somehow, the loudest thing in the room wasn’t the screaming.

It was you roasting the father of your child.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Katsuki said from your side, face pale and panicked.

Your head whipped toward him like a possessed demon.

“BREATHE?! If you tell me to breathe one more time, I’ll shove this IV stand so far up your ass you’ll be dripping saline for a week!”

A nurse dropped her pen. Another subtly ducked behind the heart monitor.

Mitsuki, to her credit, stepped in like a seasoned soldier. “Sweetheart, I know it hurts, but you’re strong—”

“STRONG? STRONG?! You gave birth to this walking anger issue and you survived, so I’m guessing your pain tolerance is WAY higher than mine!”

Bakugo flinched. “Oi! I’m right here!”

“Unfortunately!”

The doctor glanced between you and Bakugo, hesitant. “She’s... crowning.”

You gritted your teeth and let out a guttural scream. “OF COURSE SHE IS, I CAN FEEL MY ENTIRE BODY RIPPING OPEN LIKE A BAD ZIPPER—AND THIS IDIOT WON’T STOP TALKING!”

Bakugo looked like he wanted to disappear. “I’m just trying to be supportive!”

“Supportive?! You flinched when I said I wanted pickles and ice cream at the same time—now you wanna be Father of the Year?!”

One of the nurses whispered to another, “I’ve never seen a grown man look so... emotionally injured.”

The baby was almost there. The doctor guided you through another push.

“You can do this!” Mitsuki cheered.

“Don’t cheer like it’s the f***ing sports festival!”

Another push.

“Almost there!” Katsuki said, leaning over you.

“If you say one more cliché, I will personally ensure this baby is the LAST ONE YOU EVER MAKE!”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Finally, a tiny, furious wail filled the room.

The tension evaporated. You fell back, panting and drenched, while the doctor held up your son.

“It’s a boy!” they announced.

Katsuki stood frozen, staring down at the tiny red-faced infant as if he’d just witnessed God. “He’s... mine?”

You turned your head slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Yeah, congratulations, Captain Genetics.”

Mitsuki laughed. “Well, if he screams like that already, he’s definitely a Bakugo.”

You groaned. “Poor kid.”

Bakugo leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours. “You were badass.”

You cracked a tired grin. “Damn right I was. Next time you push the kid out.”

The nurses agreed silently: they’d never forget this day.

And they would never speak during a Bakugo birth again.

---

Hey can you make your masterlist your pinned post? That way it’s easier for everyone to find certain fics instead of having to scroll to find it. Hope your days goes well!

Of course! But not every fic is on the list but i'II update it!