Latest Posts by ashthesalamipiece - Page 2

“Y/N vs. The Filter (Spoiler: There Is None)”

or: That Time Y/N Roasted the Entire Class Before Lunch

---

It started during homeroom.

Y/N had walked into class, late (again), sipping a suspiciously large energy drink and wearing two mismatched socks and a hoodie that definitely wasn’t hers.

“Morning,” she muttered, plopping into her seat.

Silence.

Aizawa raised a brow. “Y/N. Why are you late?”

Y/N blinked. “Because society.”

“…Try again.”

“Because my alarm went off, and I just didn’t respect it.”

“…One more time.”

“I stopped to watch a pigeon fight a squirrel. It felt important.”

Aizawa sighed. “Whatever. Sit down.”

“Oh, I am sitting,” she said, then looked around the room. “And judging.”

Everyone turned to her.

That was when it began.

---

THE NO-FILTER MONOLOGUE

“Denki, you have the fashion sense of a confused lemon. I love you, but why are you wearing two necklaces? Are you dating yourself?”

“Bakugo, I mean this with love — you scream like a dying vacuum cleaner and somehow still pull.”

“Iida, why do you run like someone poured espresso in your engine oil?”

“Todoroki. King. You look like you glitch in real life. Like I stare at you too long and forget my PIN number.”

“Ochako, I adore you, but you sneeze like a cartoon bunny and it freaks me out every time.”

“Sero’s elbows scare me.”

“Sato has main character energy but like, from a sports anime that got canceled too early.”

“Jirou’s music taste makes me feel like I’m about to be stabbed in an emotionally fulfilling way.”

“Momo, your brain is terrifying. I feel like you could invent a murder weapon out of boba tea.”

“Aoyama blinds me once a week. That’s an HR issue.”

“Mina’s energy gives off 'first one to die in a zombie movie but make it iconic.'”

Kirishima: “What about me?”

“You’re too pure. If you ever turn evil, we’re all screwed. You’d kill us and apologize mid-swing.”

Midnight walked in halfway through this and said, “Oh? What’s going on here?”

Y/N turned slowly. “Hi. Love the outfit. You look like if dominatrix Barbie became a pro hero.”

Midnight choked.

Present Mic entered with a coffee and blinked. “Vibe feels chaotic in here. What’d I miss?”

Y/N pointed at him with no hesitation. “You sound like an auctioneer possessed by dubstep.”

“THANK you,” he grinned. “Finally, someone sees it.”

Aizawa, rubbing his temples: “Y/N, what is wrong with you today?”

She sipped her drink. “I had four hours of sleep and a can of something called ‘Monster Lightning Rage X-TREME.’ I can see sound now.”

Bakugo slammed his desk. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?!”

Y/N turned calmly. “Genetics and unresolved trauma.”

---

Later, in the dorms…

“Do you regret anything you said today?” Uraraka asked.

Y/N paused. “Not even a little.”

“Not even the elbow comment?”

“I meant what I said, Sero’s elbows look like they have side quests.”

Sero: “You know what? Fair.”

---

To Be Continued…

“Chronicles of Chaos: Y/N Edition”

Or: That Time UA Regretted Letting Her Out of the Infirmary

---

1. The Great Kitchen Fire (That Technically Wasn’t Her Fault)

It started with a simple craving: pancakes.

It ended with the fire alarm going off, Sato screaming, and Y/N standing on the kitchen counter fanning smoke with a cutting board.

“I said I knew what I was doing!” she yelled over the alarm.

“You poured orange juice in the pan instead of oil!” Sato cried.

“I was improvising! It’s called culinary jazz!”

The microwave exploded.

Present Mic kicked the door open in his pajamas. “WHO SUMMONED ME WITH CHAOS?”

“I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO FLIP ONE,” Y/N wailed.

---

2. The Invisible Wall Incident

Hatsume had been testing a new tech that projected invisible energy barriers.

Y/N, naturally, ran into it face-first with the force of a charging rhino.

“OW. WHY IS THE AIR HARD?!”

“You walked into the new prototype,” Hatsume said cheerfully.

“You should’ve put up a sign!”

“It’s INVISIBLE.”

“I’m suing you for emotional damage and nose betrayal.”

The class watched her dramatically slide down the force field like a tragic soap opera character, leaving behind a forehead print on the invisible wall.

---

3. That Time She Thought a Villain Was a Cosplayer

It was during a field trip.

Y/N wandered off. (Again.)

She came across a guy in a full villain outfit, mask and all, standing ominously in an alley.

“Ooh, your cosplay is AMAZING,” she said, circling him. “Is this original? Or based on some underground manga?”

The villain, confused, hesitated. “Uh… I’m robbing a store.”

“WOW, dedication to the bit!”

“I literally just set a building on fire.”

“You’re really selling it! I can’t even tell if you’re method acting or—WAIT, IS THAT A REAL KNIFE?!”

She came back five minutes later, singed and out of breath.

“Okay so plot twist, that was not a Comic Con side quest.”

---

4. Her Deep, Emotional War With the UA Vending Machine

She was one yen short.

Just. One.

Y/N smacked the machine. Sweet. Nothing.

She begged. It ignored her.

She yelled, “I HAVE SUFFERED FOR THIS SNACK, GIVE ME MY SALTY JUSTICE!”

Bakugo walked by, slapped the machine once, and it coughed out not only her chips, but a second bonus bag.

“I loosened it for you,” Y/N muttered.

Bakugo didn’t even stop walking. “You’re pathetic.”

“I’M THE PEOPLE’S CHAMPION,” she shouted after him, holding both chip bags above her head like trophies.

---

5. The Time She Tried to “Train” the Dorm’s Pet Turtle

Someone brought a turtle back to the dorms. Bad decision. Y/N decided it had “hero potential.”

She built it a cape out of a sock, taped on a cardboard mask, and named it “Shellshock.”

“Today, we conquer the common room,” she whispered to it dramatically.

She tried to make it do laps in the sink.

It turned around and pooped on her hand.

“This is betrayal,” she whispered, looking into its eyes.

Shellshock blinked. Unbothered. Unapologetic.

---

6. Late Night Philosophy (A.K.A. Sleep-Deprived Chaos)

2:39 AM. She wandered into the lounge in fuzzy slippers, wrapped in a blanket, holding a spoon.

Not eating. Just holding it.

“Do you think All Might ever stubbed his toe in his buff form and cried in his skinny form so no one would know?” she asked Kaminari.

“...Go to sleep.”

“Do frogs know they’re frogs?”

“Y/N.”

“Do we all technically taste like chicken?”

“Y/N, PLEASE.”

Blasty Brat & Baby Bear

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x (platonic) Chubby Little Sister OC

Tags: sibling vibes, soft moments, light bullying, Mitsuki being a mom, grumpy x sunshine

---

“You’re seriously making me babysit her?”

Bakugo’s scowl could’ve cracked concrete. Arms crossed, eyes twitching in irritation, he stared down at the chubby little girl peeking out from behind his mom’s legs.

Mitsuki rolled her eyes. “She’s your sister, Katsuki. And I have errands. You can either watch her or listen to me scream for an hour. Pick.”

He groaned like he was being sentenced to death. “She cries all the damn time.”

“I do not!” she squeaked, voice breaking halfway through. Her round cheeks were already turning pink, her hands clutching the hem of her too-big t-shirt. “You’re just mean!”

“And you’re a crybaby,” Bakugo snapped, already turning toward the living room. “C’mon, Baby Bear. Let’s get this over with.”

She blinked. “Baby… bear?”

“Yeah. Round, soft, and whiny. Don’t get snot on the couch.”

---

At first, she avoided him—tiptoeing around, too scared to even ask to change the channel. Bakugo ignored her just as much, only occasionally tossing a jab like:

“Stop stomping, you sound like a baby Godzilla.”

“Why are you always eating something?”

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m not gonna cry with you.”

But Mitsuki kept forcing them together.

Board games. Movie nights. Grocery trips. He even got roped into walking her home from school once.

And slowly—very slowly—things shifted.

---

She started sitting closer.

He stopped rolling his eyes when she talked.

She’d bring him little snacks she made (badly).

He’d ruffle her hair when she got nervous.

And when she got picked on at school for her weight?

Bakugo showed up the next day, leaned on the classroom doorframe, and said loud enough for everyone to hear:

“You mess with my sister again, I’ll turn your desks into kindling. Got it?”

She didn’t cry that day.

But she did tell him he looked cool.

And for the first time, he only called her “Baby Bear” once that whole day.

---

"Needles & Nonsense"

Summary: Reader’s stubbornness kicks back in, and the adults are not having it

The hospital room was too white.

The walls. The sheets. The buzzing light. It all made your skin crawl. Even worse was the IV line in your arm—a clear tube taped down to your skin like some parasite, slowly dripping fluids into your veins like you were a broken plant.

You glared at it like it had personally insulted you.

You had been stable for two days. That’s what they said. “Stable,” whatever that meant. You still felt like garbage. You couldn’t walk more than five feet without your knees giving out. But that was beside the point.

The point was the IV.

Disgusting. Cold. Invasive. You hated how it felt inside your arm, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Every few hours a nurse would come by and adjust the bag, and you had to just sit there like a helpless child. It made your skin crawl. You weren’t even scared of needles, not really—it was the being plugged in part that made your chest tight.

And honestly?

You were done.

You looked toward the door. No nurses. No heroes. The hallway was quiet. Probably lunchtime.

You glanced down at your arm.

“This is a terrible idea,” you muttered under your breath.

Then you yanked the IV out.

It came free with a squelch and a tiny spurt of blood, and you slapped your hand over it with a hiss. “Ow, ow, ow—grossgrossgross—”

A few drops of saline hit the sheets as the IV line swung freely like a limp vine. You shoved it aside like it was cursed, pressing a tissue to your bleeding arm.

You felt instantly better.

But the second you relaxed, the door opened.

“…What the hell are you doing?” Aizawa’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

You flinched.

“I was—uh,” you started, hiding the bloody tissue behind your back. “Nothing?”

He strode over in three long steps, eyes scanning the scene. The IV was dangling. The bandage was slipping. Your arm was still dripping faintly.

“You pulled it out?!” he barked.

You winced. “It felt gross, okay?! I’m not a science experiment—!”

“You’re a hospital patient,” Aizawa snapped, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it to your arm. “This is here to keep you alive. You don’t get to decide to sabotage your care because it’s ‘gross.’”

“I didn’t sabotage anything!” you protested. “I’m just—ugh—it’s my body, let me have some say!”

“You lost that say when you let your body fall apart,” he shot back.

You went quiet.

Aizawa immediately regretted his words. His eyes softened, and his voice dropped. “…I didn’t mean it like that.”

But the silence between you stretched like a cracked window.

“I just…” you said after a while, voice small. “It made me feel like I wasn’t even in control anymore. Like everyone’s poking me and watching me and I’m not even—me anymore.”

Aizawa let out a slow breath. “Okay. Okay. I get it.”

You blinked. “You do?”

“I do,” he nodded. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this is still serious. You need those fluids.”

“…What if I drink more instead?” you offered weakly. “Like, a million electrolytes. And juice. And water. I’ll turn into a human Capri Sun.”

Aizawa gave you the driest look known to man.

“I’m being reasonable,” you added.

“You ripped a needle out of your arm.”

“...Emotionally reasonable, then.”

Before he could reply, the door burst open.

Midnight stormed in, Recovery Girl behind her.

“What happened? The monitor started freaking out—oh my god, what did you do?!” Midnight gasped.

“She pulled out her IV,” Aizawa said, tone flat.

Recovery Girl looked like she might combust on the spot. “You what?!”

“It felt gross!” you shouted, holding your arm like a wounded kitten.

Midnight clutched her head. “You’ve been in this hospital for two days and already started acting like an escaped gremlin.”

You huffed. “I wasn’t escaping. I was... asserting autonomy.”

Aizawa held up the bloody cloth. “With blood loss.”

Recovery Girl marched over and sat you up straighter with surprising strength. “If you do that again, I will have someone sit on you. Understood?”

“...Kinky,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmhm.”

Midnight crossed her arms. “Do you hate the needle part or the ‘hooked up to something’ part?”

“…Both,” you admitted. “But mostly the hooked up part. It’s like I’m a USB stick.”

Recovery Girl pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. We’ll switch you to oral hydration and supplements if your blood pressure stabilizes over the next 12 hours. One more dip and you’re getting a double IV.”

You shivered. “Fine. Deal. Oral hydration or death.”

Midnight raised an eyebrow. “Dramatic much?”

“You’re literally talking to someone who steam-bleeds and passed out running down a hallway,” you said, deadpan. “Dramatic is my brand.”

Aizawa exhaled. “I’m too tired for this.”

“I’m tired, you’re just tired of me,” you teased.

He didn’t even crack a smile.

Midnight walked over and ruffled your hair. “Let’s just try to keep the holes in your arm where they belong, yeah?”

You nodded. “No promises.”

“Reader.”

“Okay, okay—I’ll be good. Kind of. Mostly. I’ll aim for like... 70%.”

Midnight looked at Aizawa. “That’s the best we’re gonna get.”

Aizawa just rubbed his temples again.

“A Pup Among Cats”

Wild Wild Pussycats x Baby!Reader

Reader has a dog-related quirk (enhanced smell/hearing, maybe tail/ears?)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Found Family

---

The first time they saw you, you were curled up in a blanket way too big for your tiny body, floppy ears twitching at every sound, big watery eyes staring up at them like they were the biggest things in the world. Mandalay swore under her breath.

“A… dog?” Pixie-Bob blinked. “This baby has a dog quirk?”

“Yup.” The hero who dropped you off looked exhausted. “Enhanced senses. Sharp hearing, powerful nose, slight tail mutation. Probably some tracking potential when she’s older.”

Tiger folded his arms. “You do know we’re the Wild Wild Pussycats, right? We don’t really… deal with dogs.”

Mandalay sighed. “And yet you brought her to us.”

“She needs a home. And you’re registered as foster-capable for quirked kids. No one else has room for someone with her sensory needs. The shelters are full.” A pause. “She doesn’t have anyone else.”

You sneezed then. A tiny, pitiful thing. Your tail wagged once, unsure.

Ragdoll knelt down slowly. “Hi, sweet thing,” she whispered, reaching a hand out. You sniffed it with that super-powered nose of yours, ears perking. “You smell like… tuna,” you babbled.

Mandalay winced. “Okay, that’s kind of cute.”

Pixie-Bob huffed. “Just don’t expect me to like her.”

—

Three weeks later, Pixie-Bob was the one sleeping with you curled on her chest, brushing your little tail while muttering, “Dogs aren’t that bad.”

Tiger caught you trying to chase your own tail and had to step out because “something got in my eye.” Ragdoll taught you how to howl. Mandalay started keeping extra noise-canceling earmuffs in her bag for when your hearing got overwhelmed.

You weren’t a cat. You barked in your sleep and chewed on slippers.

But somehow, you fit. You were their little pup. The odd one out in a house full of felines.

And the Pussycats? They didn't just “deal” with dogs anymore.

They had a reason to love one.

---

Sorry if this was short!

Bhna masterlist♡

Not everything is on here! It's stil updating!

Boys

Class 1a

Bakugo

"The disaster talk"

They watched the video

The truth bomb

Family Dinner (aka the acacolypse)

The Janitor’s Closet incident

Explosive Delivery

Explosions of the heart

Thin Walls- no restraint

Red Marks red faces

No Time Like a Bad time

Explosive Love: Part 2 – Babysitter Bakugo

Kirishima

Red Riot meet your Sidekick

Explosive Love (Literally)

Deku

In his arms

Explosive Love: Part 3 – Baby's Day Out (with Deku & Todoroki

Sero

Explosive Love: Part 5 – Sero & Denki: Bros vs Baby Bom

Denki

💛 Static hearts

Explosive Love: Part 5 – Sero & Denki: Bros vs Baby Bom

Shoto

Explosive Love: Part 3 – Baby's Day Out (with Deku & Todoroki

More to come!

Girls

Uraraka

Jirou

Momo

Tsuui

Mina

Explosive Love: Part 4 – Mina’s Turn (And She’s Ready for War)

Hagakure

More to come!

Pro heroes

Boys

Present mic

Aizawa

“Head Trauma? Never Heard of Her”

Hawks

Just a Flesh Wound bro

"First Flight"

“Hero Duty Never Sleeps”

More to come!

Girls

Midnight

“Head Trauma? Never Heard of Her”

Mirko

Mt. Lady

Just a Flesh Wound bro

More to come!

Villains

Boys

Shigaraki

Dabi

Twice

Overhaul

Girls

Toga

Magne

Lady nagant

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!

“The Original Disaster Talk”

Teen!Bakugo x Mitsuki Bakugo (his mom)

Tags: Humor, Embarrassing Parenting, Family Chaos, Origin Story

---

There are a few moments in every man’s life that leave a permanent scar.

For Katsuki Bakugo, age 13, that moment came on a random Tuesday afternoon.

He’d just gotten home from school, stormed upstairs like he always did, and was about to open incognito mode for very educational purposes when he heard the knock.

“Oi, Katsuki,” came the voice of Mitsuki Bakugo, aka his mom, aka a hurricane in heels. “We need to talk.”

Bakugo blinked, suspicious. “About what?”

She opened the door before he could protest.

“You’re gettin’ taller. You’re smellin’ worse. And you’ve been hogging the bathroom like you’re hiding a whole-ass relationship in there,” she said, arms crossed.

Bakugo’s soul left his body. “W-what?! No, I haven’t—what are you talking about?!”

“Puberty, dumbass,” she snapped. “It’s happening. I’m not letting your sweaty little teenage man-hormones wreck this house without a warning.”

He turned bright red. “I DON’T HAVE MAN-HORMONES!”

“Bullshit,” Mitsuki said, tossing a pamphlet onto his bed titled “So You’re Growing Hair There, Huh?”

Bakugo stared at it in horror. “What the hell is this?!”

“Your dad was too much of a coward to have this talk with you, so now it’s my job,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed like this was a normal Tuesday. “Let’s start with the basics. Boners happen. Deal with it. You’re gonna get them at the worst possible times. Don’t point ‘em at people.”

“OH MY GOD,” Bakugo howled, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.

Mitsuki continued unfazed. “If you’re gonna, y’know, touch yourself, do it in private. Wash your hands. Don’t get weird with socks. Don’t break the plumbing. Don’t google anything that ends with ‘hub’. And if I ever catch you lying about what you’re doing in the shower—”

“I’M NEVER SHOWERING AGAIN,” Bakugo yelled from under the pillow.

“—you will be grounded, and I will tell Auntie Inko.”

“PLEASE STOP TALKING!”

She stood, patting his head like she’d just taught him how to tie his shoes. “You’ll survive. Just remember: if something’s leaking or growing and you don’t know why, talk to a damn adult.”

Bakugo peeked out. “You’re the worst.”

She smirked. “You’ll thank me when you’re a dad and your kid starts cryin’ because of a math test and a surprise boner.”

He would not thank her.

Not for a long, long time.

---

End Scene

Thus began the generational trauma of Bakugo men being emotionally damaged by The Talk. And so, the legend lives on…

"They Watched The Video"

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Wholesome Aftermath, Secondhand Embarrassment, Uterus-Fueled Respect

Part 12 of the “Knock First, Damn It!” Series

---

It started in health class.

You got the warning note ahead of time. A little permission slip in Hana’s backpack that read:

> “This week, we will be viewing a short educational film on childbirth.”

You signed it.

Bakugo signed it too—then added “Godspeed” in the corner.

---

DAY OF THE VIDEO: 2:43 PM, SCHOOL HEALTH CLASS

Haruki (13) and Hana (12) sat side-by-side, trying to act like this was fine.

A projector flickered on.

A chipper narrator voice began:

> “Today, we’ll be learning about the miracle of life.”

It started out easy. Cute cartoon animations. Uplifting music.

Then it switched.

REAL FOOTAGE.

A woman. Labor. Screaming.

Close-ups. Angles that no one was ready for.

A head emerging where heads should not.

Haruki’s jaw dropped.

Hana gripped her desk like it was a lifeline.

Someone in the back whispered, “Is that LEGAL?!”

The video didn’t stop.

Tears. Blood. One midwife yelling, “ALMOST THERE!”

Hana went pale. “Why is she still screaming?! Why is it still coming out?!”

Haruki looked horrified. “There’s shoulders?!”

Another kid fainted.

By the time it ended, no one clapped. No one spoke.

The lights came on.

Silence.

Existential dread.

The teacher cheerfully asked, “Any questions?”

Haruki slowly raised a hand. “Yeah. Um. Can we take our moms out to dinner or something?”

---

LATER THAT NIGHT

You were cooking when the kids walked into the kitchen, eyes wide, forever changed.

Haruki walked up and hugged you. Full-body. Long. With meaning.

“…You okay?” you asked.

“You did that for me,” he whispered like a cult convert. “You’re a superhero.”

You blinked. “What… did they show you?”

“Everything.” Hana said, voice flat.

Bakugo peeked around the corner. “So. You saw it, huh?”

Haruki nodded slowly. “Dad.”

“Yeah?”

“…Did you WATCH Mom go through that?”

Bakugo took a long sip of tea. “Front row. Got hit in the face with a piece of placenta.”

Hana gagged.

Haruki looked like he was going to cry again. “I can’t believe you survived that.”

You smiled. “It’s part of the job.”

Haruki saluted. “Respectfully? I will never raise my voice at you again. Ever.”

Bakugo smirked. “I been sayin’ she’s a badass.”

Hana bowed. “I’m gonna do your chores for the week. Just because.”

You nodded like a queen.

“…Also,” Haruki added, “I might be abstinent until I’m thirty.”

Bakugo fist-pumped behind you.

“The Truth Bomb”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Education Gone Wrong, Parental Panic, Coming-of-(Too-Much)-Knowledge

---

It started with health class.

Specifically, Haruki’s teacher sending out a “Heads Up” email with one horrifying subject line:

> This week: Reproductive Systems & Human Development! Please prep your child accordingly. :)

You showed the email to Bakugo.

He stared at it like it personally threatened him. “Nope.”

“Babe—”

“Nope.”

“They’re gonna hear it anyway. Wouldn’t you rather they hear it from us?”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “Then I’m starting with the consequences. No one talks about the awkward socks or the lifetime of trauma.”

---

The Setup

You called a “family meeting.”

Haruki (13) and Hana (11) sat on the couch, suspicious and slightly panicked.

“Are we in trouble?” Hana whispered.

Bakugo crossed his arms. “Not yet.”

You shot him a look. “Guys, your health teacher is starting a unit on… human reproduction. And we figured it’d be better if you heard it from us first.”

Haruki groaned. “Oh no.”

Hana perked up. “You mean like how babies are made?!”

Bakugo: visibly regrets not leaving the country sooner.

---

Stage One: The Basics

You took a breath. “Okay. So. When a male and a female reproduce, the male’s sperm meets the female’s egg.”

Hana raised her hand. “Like in Finding Nemo?”

Bakugo blinked. “We’re not starting with Finding Nemo. There’s no clownfish foreplay in this story.”

Haruki choked.

You glared. “Katsuki.”

“What?! It’s better than pretending it’s magical fairy dust!”

You sighed. “Anyway. The sperm is inside the semen, which is released when the male ejaculates.”

Haruki made a face like he’d just eaten glue. “Ugh.”

Hana frowned. “How does the sperm get in there?”

Bakugo groaned. “Here it comes…”

You smiled awkwardly. “Well… the penis goes inside the vagina, and that’s how the sperm reaches the egg.”

Dead silence.

Haruki’s entire soul left his body.

Hana blinked. “So you and Dad—?”

“NOPE.” Haruki stood up. “I’m out. I’m leaving the planet.”

Bakugo yanked him back down by the hood. “You’re sitting through this. If I had to live it, you’re gonna learn it.”

---

Stage Two: The Details (aka: The Regret)

You powered on. “Once the sperm fertilizes the egg, it implants in the uterus, and grows for about nine months.”

Hana nodded slowly. “So it’s like planting a seed, but gross.”

“Exactly,” Bakugo muttered. “A gross, screaming seed.”

Haruki still looked like he wanted to vanish. “Wait—how do you even know when to do that? Like, is it just random? Do people plan it?”

You and Bakugo exchanged a long, awkward silence.

“…Sometimes it’s planned,” you said carefully.

“Sometimes,” Bakugo added, “you’re just feeling brave. Or stupid.”

You smacked his arm. “Don’t say that in front of them.”

Haruki blinked. “So I was a brave mistake?”

“YOU WERE A LOVE-FILLED ADVENTURE,” you snapped.

Bakugo shrugged. “He wasn’t planned. But he was loud from day one.”

Haruki looked genuinely horrified. “You guys were doing that stuff when you were, like, young?!”

Bakugo grinned wickedly. “Kid. We invented the thunder clap.”

“OH MY GOD—”

---

Stage Three: Existential Crisis

Hana raised her hand again. “Wait. You had to do that two times to make both of us?”

Bakugo tilted his head. “Minimum. We’re not amateurs.”

You smacked his arm so hard his chair squeaked.

Hana gasped. “So you—you did that… a lot?!”

Haruki covered his ears. “LA LA LA I’M NOT LISTENING.”

“WE LIVE HERE,” Hana yelled. “YOU DID THAT HERE?!”

You stood up. “Okay! That’s enough education for one night!”

Haruki fled.

Hana followed, yelling, “WAIT—IF YOU GUYS KISSED THAT MUCH, DID YOU ALSO—OH NOOOO—”

The bedroom door slammed.

Silence.

Bakugo took a long sip of water. “Think they’ll ever look us in the eyes again?”

You grinned. “Not until college.”

He chuckled. “Worth it.”

“Family Dinner (aka: The Apocalypse)”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Katsuki Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Complete Breakdown, Teen Drama, Secondhand Trauma

---

Dinner started off normal.

You made katsudon (Bakugo’s favorite). Haruki was unusually quiet. Hana had a suspicious smile. Bakugo was halfway through his second helping, blissfully unaware of the emotional landmine about to detonate.

You should’ve known.

You should’ve known.

It started with Hana.

“So, I think Takeshi might ask me to be his girlfriend.”

Bakugo froze mid-chew. “He better not.”

You gave her a soft smile. “That’s exciting, sweetheart.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes. “No it isn’t. It’s illegal.”

Haruki jumped in, mouth full of rice. “Takeshi’s not that bad. Better than closet girl.”

Bakugo dropped his chopsticks.

“You wanna repeat that?”

Haruki realized too late that he’d just outed himself. Again. “I—I mean, hypothetically—”

“You were back in the closet?!”

You groaned. “Oh my god, not again.”

Hana leaned back smugly. “I saw them holding hands yesterday.”

Haruki turned bright red. “TRAITOR!”

“She winked at him too,” Hana added, like she was announcing a war crime. “Both eyes.”

Bakugo stood so fast his chair screeched. “THAT’S IT. This dinner is OVER. Everyone to their rooms. No more hormones. NO MORE WINKING.”

You tried to intervene. “Katsuki—”

“Nope. I’m done. I gave the talk. I suffered through The Incident. I read the damn Diary. I survived ClosetGate. And now you’re telling me I’m raising a Romeo and Juliet sequel in my own house?!”

Haruki mumbled, “Technically we’re more like a Rom-Com—”

“SHUT UP, HARUKI.”

Hana, cool as ever, kept sipping her juice. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s not like I’m gonna kiss him on school property.”

Bakugo wheeled on her. “YES YOU ARE. AND I’LL BE THERE. HIDING IN A BUSH WITH BINOCULARS.”

You snorted so hard you choked.

Haruki tried to sneak another bite of katsudon.

Bakugo caught him mid-chew. “You think you get to eat after all this betrayal?!”

“Dad,” Haruki said around a mouthful, “you need therapy.”

“I need a flamethrower.”

---

Ten minutes later, you were cleaning the kitchen while Bakugo sulked in the corner like a war veteran.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered. “We’re surrounded. Outnumbered. Hormones on all sides.”

You kissed his cheek. “You’ll survive.”

“I miss when they were babies. When they only cried because they wanted snacks, not because some punk told them they had ‘pretty eyes.’”

You laughed. “You’re doing great.”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re surviving.”

He groaned. “Same thing.”

“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.”

"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.

---

“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.

"Explosions of the Heart"

This one is rlly long😭

☆☆☆

The hospital reeked of antiseptic and tension. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Bakugo Katsuki paced the floor like a caged animal. His hands—usually steady in battle—trembled slightly. Outside the delivery room, his world was unraveling.

"Mr. Bakugo," the nurse called gently. "She’s in distress. We’re doing everything we can."

He didn’t answer. His crimson eyes were locked on the swinging double doors that had swallowed you hours ago.

You—his wife, his partner, the only person who could call him a dumbass and still get a smile out of him—were behind those doors. And you were fighting a battle even he couldn't charge into fists-first.

Twelve Hours Earlier

Your water had broken in the dead of night. You’d barely gotten a full sentence out before Bakugo was already tossing clothes into a bag and barking at the cab company over the phone. By the time you reached the hospital, contractions were tearing through you like lightning, each one worse than the last.

Something wasn’t right.

The baby was breach. Your blood pressure spiked. You were losing too much blood. They rushed you into an emergency delivery, voices sharp and fast. Bakugo hadn’t been allowed in.

Present

Time blurred. Katsuki hated feeling useless more than anything. He should be in there. He should be beside you, holding your hand, telling you it was going to be okay even if his chest felt like it was going to explode.

A sudden scream tore through the hall. Your scream.

His knees buckled. He hadn’t even heard himself move before he was slamming into the door, fists glowing faintly, ready to break it down—

"Sir!" a nurse barked, shoving him back. "You can't go in there!"

"That’s my damn wife!" he snarled. "Let me—"

The screaming stopped.

Too abruptly.

Bakugo froze. The world stopped moving.

Seconds felt like eternities until finally, the doors opened and a doctor stepped out, blood on her scrubs and exhaustion in her eyes.

"She’s alive," she said softly. "And so is your son. But it was close. Too close."

His legs gave out and he collapsed into the nearest chair. His hands covered his face as air finally returned to his lungs. Alive. You were both alive.

"You can see her now."

He stood shakily, pushing into the room. You looked like hell—pale, exhausted, barely able to lift your eyelids—but when you saw him, a weak smile curved your lips.

"You look like shit," you whispered.

A choked laugh escaped him. He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, dumbass.”

Then he saw the tiny bundle in your arms. Wide red eyes—his eyes—blinked up at him.

"Hey, little guy," he said, voice thick. "You’re already causing trouble, huh?"

You laughed faintly, and Bakugo leaned in, touching his forehead to yours.

"Next time," he murmured, "we're adopting."

---

Two Weeks Later

You were finally home.

The scent of sterilized hospital air had been replaced by the warmth of your shared apartment, still littered with unopened baby gifts and half-assembled furniture. It felt surreal, like you had died and somehow gotten a second chance.

Katsuki hadn’t left your side since the hospital.

He’d been quieter than usual—not cold, but... different. Protective. Watchful. The explosions were fewer, the yelling almost nonexistent. And at night, when he thought you were asleep, you caught him just staring—at you, at the baby, at the scar the IV left on your hand.

Like he couldn’t believe either of you were still here.

You shifted slightly on the couch, wincing. Your body still ached like hell. The stitches, the swelling, the pressure—no one talked about how brutal recovery would be. You felt raw. Fragile.

"Katsuki," you called weakly.

He appeared instantly from the kitchen, a bottle in one hand and your pain meds in the other. "Need something?"

"Come sit with me."

He hesitated. "You’re still hurting. I don’t wanna crowd you."

You reached out, fingers curling in the air.

He sighed, set everything down, and slid onto the couch beside you. Carefully. Gently. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your newborn cradled against your chest, tiny breaths warm against your skin.

"He looks like you," you murmured.

"Poor brat," he said, but his voice was soft.

Your fingers laced with his.

"You’ve been quiet."

He didn’t answer for a long time. Then:

"You almost died." His voice cracked. “And I couldn’t do shit about it.”

You turned to look at him, eyes brimming. "But I didn’t. We didn’t. Katsuki, you didn’t leave me. Not for a second. That means everything."

He clenched his jaw. “I’ve fought villains who tried to kill me. I’ve been stabbed, exploded, buried under rubble. I can deal with that. But you, bleeding out and screaming and I couldn’t even touch you—” He broke off. “I’ve never been that fucking scared in my life.”

Tears slipped down your cheek, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “You’re here. I’m here. Our son’s here. That’s all that matters.”

He looked down at the sleeping baby, chest rising and falling in sync with yours. “He’s tiny.”

You smirked. “So were you. Until puberty hit like a damn truck.”

A reluctant chuckle rumbled from him. “If he has even half your stubbornness, we’re screwed.”

“Half yours, you mean,” you teased.

The room went quiet again. You nestled closer, letting yourself breathe in his warmth, his scent. Safe.

“I thought I was ready to be a dad,” he said suddenly. “I trained for it. Got the nursery set up, read every damn book. But the second they handed him to me, I realized I didn’t know shit.”

You smiled sleepily. “You’re already doing perfect.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I haven’t blown up a diaper yet.”

You both laughed—quiet, tired, and a little broken, but real.

He looked at you, really looked, eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You blinked. Bakugo never whispered.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, voice catching.

And for the first time in weeks, you both finally exhaled.

---

Three Months Later

“You sure you’re okay without me for a few hours?” you asked again, already halfway out the door.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, baby monitor clipped to his sweatpants, your son strapped into a carrier on his chest like a slightly confused koala.

“D’you think I can’t handle him or something?” he grumbled.

“I think he shat through three outfits before noon yesterday, and you nearly declared war on baby wipes.”

Katsuki scowled. “One time.”

“One time per diaper.”

You kissed his cheek before he could argue, smirking. “You’ll be fine, Dad of the Year.”

The door clicked shut behind you.

And just like that… it was quiet.

Bakugo glanced down at the wide-eyed little boy strapped to his chest. “Alright, kid. Just me and you.”

The baby blinked, then made a soft gurgling noise.

“You better not be loading your diaper already.”

**

The first twenty minutes went smooth. Katsuki heated a bottle with military precision, burped the baby like a pro, and even played peekaboo without blowing anything up.

Then the baby started crying.

Loud.

Katsuki checked the diaper. Clean. Tried feeding him. Refused. Burping? Nothing. Pacifier? Launched like a missile.

“Are you broken?” he hissed, bouncing him awkwardly.

The baby wailed louder.

Bakugo, future Number One Hero, demolisher of villains, destroyer of fear itself… was being absolutely obliterated by a 12-pound infant.

“Alright!” he shouted over the crying. “You win, gremlin!”

He tried the ultimate move: laying on the couch with the baby on his chest, just like you did.

It worked. Instant silence.

“…Seriously?”

Tiny fingers gripped the collar of his shirt, and the baby let out a satisfied sigh, snuggling deeper against him.

“Tch. You just wanted to lay on me, huh?” Katsuki mumbled. “Clingy little nerd.”

He didn’t move. Not even when his phone buzzed. You’d texted: Everything okay?

He snapped a photo of his son sleeping peacefully on his chest and sent it back.

We’re good. Don’t rush.

He stared at the photo for a long time, warmth blooming in his chest. The kid looked so much like you when he was relaxed. And Katsuki realized something he hadn’t said out loud yet.

He loved this.

Being a dad.

The mess, the noise, the confusion—it was all chaos he could handle if it meant protecting you and this little bean.

“You’re not that bad, y’know,” he muttered. “Might even grow up to be cooler than me.”

The baby snorted in his sleep.

“Yeah, alright, don’t push it.”

**

When you walked in an hour later, you found them both fast asleep—Katsuki snoring, the baby drooling on his chest, one tiny fist tangled in his dad’s ash-blond hair.

You smiled and quietly snapped a photo.

The caption would read: My boys. Chaos level: manageable.

For now.

---

Ten Months Later

Your son had started babbling a while ago, but it was mostly incoherent nonsense—"ba-ba," "da-da," the occasional squeal that sounded like a baby pterodactyl mid-meltdown.

Katsuki had been watching him like a hawk, waiting for the first real word. It had practically become a competition between you two—who would he say first? "Mama" or "Dada"?

Katsuki refused to lose.

“You know I carried him for nine months, right?” you said, folding laundry one afternoon.

“Yeah, and I carried your ass through every post-labor breakdown, so I’d say we’re even,” he grunted, ruffling your son’s spiky blond hair as he sat chewing on a toy grenade (definitely plastic).

Your son looked up at him with wide, mischievous eyes and suddenly let out a loud, clear—

“Boom.”

Silence.

You blinked. “Did he just—?”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. “No. No way. Say it again, brat.”

The baby giggled. “Boom!”

“Oh my god.”

Katsuki stood there frozen for a moment, and then his mouth curled into the smuggest grin you’d ever seen.

“That’s my boy.”

You threw a sock at his face. “Katsuki, his first word was ‘boom.’”

“I’m proud as hell.”

“He’s not a grenade!”

“He’s mine, so yes, he is.”

Your son squealed again. “Boom!”

Now he was bouncing.

“Stop encouraging him!” you said, even though you were trying not to laugh.

Bakugo squatted beside him and bumped their foreheads together gently. “Boom, huh? You’re gonna be a damn legend.”

You shook your head in disbelief, watching your two pyro-twins grin at each other like chaos incarnate.

Katsuki looked up at you, full of fire and affection. “Guess we know what kind of quirk he’s leanin’ toward.”

You groaned. “We are so not baby-proofed for explosions.”

Katsuki smirked. “Guess I better teach him control before he blows up the crib.”

Your baby babbled happily between them again. “Boom!”

Yeah. You were definitely raising a little dynamite.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

---

Age: 2 Years, 3 Months

Your son’s first day of daycare was supposed to be normal.

You’d packed his snacks, extra clothes, diapers, wipes, and left strict instructions that he was “sweet, a little stubborn, and very attached to his Bakugou-brand plushie.”

You also wrote in bold: “If he gets upset, avoid loud noises. They tend to... backfire.”

The teacher smiled politely. “We’ve handled all kinds of quirks. Don’t worry.”

You didn’t.

Until the phone call.

Three hours later.

Bakugo answered it on speaker.

“Hello, this is—uh—Miss Hikari from Little Hero Steps Daycare. We have a small situation.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Is he hurt?”

“No! No, he’s fine. Perfectly fine. A little excited, actually…”

Your stomach dropped.

“…but the plastic slide may have, um... detonated.”

Katsuki let out a low snort. “He blew up the slide?”

“It was only the top half,” she added quickly. “And technically, it was more of a pop than a boom.”

You could feel Katsuki’s pride from across the kitchen.

“Are the other kids okay?” you asked, horrified.

“Yes! No injuries. He wasn’t upset, just… showing off. He said ‘Boom!’ and then—”

“That’s my son,” Bakugo said, folding his arms with a smug little smirk.

You elbowed him. “That is not a good thing.”

“Didn’t say it was bad either.”

**

When you arrived at the daycare, your son was sitting on a beanbag with three teachers around him—like he was some kind of dangerous celebrity.

His hair was wild, his cheeks were smudged with soot, and he looked way too pleased with himself.

“Mommy! Daddy!” he yelled, running over and nearly tripping on his own feet.

“Hey, you little menace,” Katsuki muttered, picking him up.

“Boom!” he chirped proudly, like it was his name.

One of the teachers came over, cautiously.

“We think his quirk is starting to develop. It’s... early, but very similar to yours, Mr. Bakugo.”

Katsuki beamed. “Damn right it is.”

You groaned. “Please tell me we’re not banned.”

The teacher laughed nervously. “No—though we’re investing in more fireproof playground equipment starting immediately.”

**

That night, after your son was passed out in his crib, soot still faintly dusting his forehead, you collapsed on the couch.

“He’s gonna be a handful,” you murmured, resting your head on Katsuki’s chest.

“Yeah,” he muttered, stroking your hair. “He’s gonna be a hell of a hero too.”

You smiled, eyes drifting closed as you listened to your husband’s heartbeat under your cheek—steady, strong, and forever explosive.

Just like the little boy down the hall.

---

You were pregnant. Again.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen quite so soon—not when your firstborn was still blowing up laundry baskets for fun and calling it “training.”

But the second those two pink lines appeared, your stomach flipped. Part nerves. Part excitement. And a lot of “oh god, how is Bakugo going to react?”

**

You told him on a quiet evening. Your son was asleep (finally) and the living room still smelled faintly of scorched Play-Doh.

You sat beside him, heart racing.

“I’m pregnant.”

Bakugo blinked. He looked at you. Then at your stomach. Then back at you.

“…Are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

He leaned forward slowly, resting a hand on your thigh like he thought the couch might explode.

“Holy shit.”

You laughed. “That’s… not the response I expected.”

He stared at your stomach for a long time before finally saying, softly, “You okay with this?”

“I’m scared. But yeah. I want this.”

He nodded, jaw tightening. “You nearly died last time.”

“I know.”

“You think I can do this again?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “What if I lose you this time?”

You reached for his hand. “Then you hold me tighter and fight harder.”

Bakugo clenched his fists, then gently rested one palm on your belly.

“…You better be a chill baby,” he muttered. “I can’t handle two demolition experts at once.”

**

Your son found out a week later when he walked into the kitchen, pointed to your tiny bump, and said:

“BOOM 2?”

You choked on your orange juice. Katsuki burst out laughing.

From that point on, the baby was Boom 2 to him.

**

As the months passed, your second pregnancy felt... different. Easier in some ways, harder in others. Your son was older now, talking more, asking endless questions.

“Did I live in your belly too?”

“You did, baby.”

“Was I loud?”

“You screamed the whole time.”

He nodded proudly. “Boom!”

Katsuki didn’t stop worrying. Not for a second. Every time you winced, he was at your side. Every time you had a check-up, he came. He argued with nurses over your chart. Practically threatened the OB into promising you a safer delivery plan.

“I lost my shit once,” he told the doctor. “I’m not doing that again.”

**

One quiet night, a few weeks before your due date, he crawled into bed behind you and wrapped his arms around your belly, pulling you gently against his chest.

“Still scared,” he whispered against your skin.

“I know,” you whispered back.

“But I want this. I want all of this. You, him”—he nodded toward your sleeping toddler down the hall—“and this tiny bomb too.”

Your heart melted.

“I want them to know they’re loved,” he added, voice thick. “No matter how loud, or messy, or crazy it gets.”

“They’ll know,” you promised, turning to kiss him softly. “Because they have you.”

Katsuki didn’t answer. He just held you tighter, his hand on your belly.

And somewhere inside, Boom 2 kicked like they were already ready to make an entrance.

Just like their brother.

Just like their dad.

---

It started with a kick.

Not just any kick—one that rocked your whole body at 3:12 a.m.

You groaned, gripping the edge of the bed.

Katsuki shot up like a soldier under fire.

“Contraction?” he barked.

“Yep,” you hissed, breathing through it.

He was already moving—bag in hand, grabbing your shoes, shouting toward the baby monitor: “Stay asleep, Boom #1!”

**

This time around, the doctors were ready. And so was Katsuki.

Still, even as they guided you into the labor room, he was white-knuckling the edge of your bed, eyes locked on you like if he blinked, you’d vanish.

You reached for him.

“I’m okay,” you said between waves of pain. “I’m okay.”

“I’m not letting go of you this time,” he muttered, voice low, jaw clenched.

And he didn’t.

Not when your screams broke through the walls.

Not when the monitors started beeping faster.

Not when the doctor said, “We need to move quickly—cord’s wrapped.”

He held your hand through it all. Pressed his forehead to yours. Whispered every curse word in the book, followed by: “You’ve got this. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

And when the final cry rang out—

A high, sharp wail that cut through the air like lightning—

Bakugo exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for nine months straight.

“She’s perfect,” the nurse whispered.

“She?” you breathed, dazed.

Katsuki blinked. “A girl?”

They placed her on your chest—tiny, red, angry as hell. She immediately latched onto your hospital gown like she was ready to fight the world.

You laughed through tears. “She’s already like you.”

Katsuki stared at her.

Just stared.

His eyes—those wild, stormy eyes—were wide and full of wonder.

“You’re kidding me,” he whispered. “I’ve got a daughter.”

You reached for his hand. “You’ve got us.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then to your daughter’s.

“I swear on my damn life,” he whispered, “no one’s ever gonna mess with you.”

She let out a fierce little squeak.

And he smiled, completely undone.

**

An hour later, you were resting, and he was sitting by the bed with your baby girl tucked into the crook of his arm.

“Name?” you asked, eyes heavy but heart full.

He looked down at her, then at you.

“What about Kaori?” he said. “Strong. Bright. Means fragrance or light.”

You smiled. “Kaori Bakugo. It’s perfect.”

And for the first time that night, the hospital room felt still. Safe.

Because no matter how explosive your little family was becoming—

It was built on something unshakable.

Love. Fire. And a whole lot of Boom.

---

Two days after Kaori’s birth, you came home—sore, exhausted, but glowing. Kaori was tiny, sleepy, and wrapped like a burrito in her fuzzy explosion-patterned blanket that Katsuki insisted she wear home.

Your front door creaked open slowly.

Bakugo carried Kaori in with terrifying precision, like she was made of nitroglycerin.

Inside, your two-year-old son was standing barefoot in the hallway—holding a plastic grenade in one hand and a drawing in the other.

“Mommy!” he shouted, running at you.

You caught him one-armed, lifting him up, groaning slightly. “Easy, baby.”

Katsuki stood back, rocking gently with Kaori in his arms. “Hey, Boom #1,” he said softly. “Wanna meet your sister?”

Your son blinked, looking at the tiny pink bundle.

“That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“She looks squishy.”

“She is,” you said, chuckling. “Gentle, okay?”

He padded over on tiptoes, peering up at her like she was some sort of sacred relic.

“…She doesn’t go boom?”

“Let’s hope not,” Katsuki muttered.

“She’s your baby sister,” you explained. “Her name is Kaori.”

He tilted his head. “Can I keep her?”

Katsuki smirked. “She’s not a pet.”

“But I love her already,” your son said proudly. Then leaned close and whispered (as if it were a spell): “Boom.”

Kaori stirred slightly… and farted.

A loud one.

Your son lost it.

“SHE DOES BOOM TOO!” he screamed.

Katsuki nearly dropped her from laughing so hard. “Oh god. She’s already like you.”

**

You all settled in the living room. Kaori slept peacefully on Katsuki’s chest while your son built a pillow fort and declared it the "Boom Base."

“She can live in the base with me,” he announced.

“She’s not old enough for base life yet,” you said.

“I’ll protect her,” he added matter-of-factly. “From monsters. And spiders. And broccoli.”

You looked over at Katsuki, who was watching the two of them with a look you’d only ever seen twice before: once on your wedding day, and once when your son took his first steps.

“Didn’t think I could love more than I already did,” he murmured. “But damn.”

You scooted closer and leaned into him, Kaori safe between you.

“Looks like we’re officially a team of four.”

“Correction,” Katsuki said. “We’re a squad.”

A very loud, occasionally explosive, wildly chaotic squad.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trade it for the world.

"Thin Walls – No Restraint”

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW (18+)

Setting: UA Dorms – Bakugo’s Room

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, possessive!Bakugo, semi-public risk (thin walls), marking, dirty talk, light biting, aftercare implied

---

Bakugo didn’t waste time once the door clicked shut behind you. His mouth was on yours in seconds, hot and urgent, lips crashing with the kind of hunger he never let anyone else see. Only you.

You barely got a breath in before he pinned you against the door, big hands sliding up under your shirt like he owned you.

Maybe he did.

“You been lookin’ at me like that all night,” he murmured against your mouth, hands gripping your thighs, lifting you until your legs wrapped around his waist. “You knew exactly what you were doin’.”

You laughed breathlessly, cupping the back of his neck. “Maybe I did.”

“Brat,” he growled, slamming his mouth to yours again.

He carried you across the room like you weighed nothing, tossing you onto the bed with a bounce. His shirt was gone in seconds, and you sat up on your knees, yanking yours over your head. His eyes devoured you—like he was starving—and the second you were bare before him, he was on you again, hands roaming, mouth trailing hot, open kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he muttered, fingers hooking under your waistband. “Spread out for me. Just for me.”

You arched your back as he yanked your underwear down, baring everything to the air and his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hissed, gaze dark and wild. “You’re already wet.”

“Can you blame me?” you whispered, pulling him back down by the waistband of his pants. “You’re so damn hot when you’re possessive.”

That broke something in him.

He shoved his sweats down just enough to free himself, thick and hard and already leaking for you. You reached down to stroke him, but he grabbed your wrist.

“No time,” he gritted out. “Need to be inside you. Now.”

You moaned as he lined himself up, dragging the swollen head through your slick folds, teasing your clit before slowly pushing in. Stretching you. Filling you.

“Oh my god, Katsuki—” your voice cracked as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours.

“You feel that?” he growled, already thrusting, slow and deep. “Feel how perfect you are for me?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with how he was moving—controlled, deliberate, hips snapping into yours with every stroke that sent pleasure spiking through your veins.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, echoing loud through the thin walls. You heard a voice faintly—maybe Kaminari—yelling something.

Bakugo didn’t stop.

“Let ‘em fucking hear you,” he rasped, reaching down to grab your thigh, throwing it over his shoulder for a deeper angle. “Let ‘em know who makes you scream.”

You did.

You cried out his name, nails digging into his arms, legs trembling as he pounded into you with a pace that made your body shake. The headboard slammed into the wall once. Twice. Rhythmically.

“Katsuki—please—I’m gonna—!”

“Do it,” he snapped. “Cum for me. Now.”

He dropped his hand to your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles, and it tipped you over the edge hard. Your whole body arched, muscles clenching tight around him, toes curling as you cried out his name loud enough that the people next door probably dropped their drinks.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s it,” he snarled, hips stuttering. “You’re so fuckin’ tight when you cum—shit—”

He drove into you one last time and let go, spilling deep inside you with a rough groan, biting into your shoulder as his body trembled over yours.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, the smell of sweat and sex, and somewhere in the distance—a loud bang on the wall.

“Shut up!” Kaminari’s voice rang through the dorms.

Bakugo laughed—actually laughed—low and smug, rolling off you and dragging you onto his chest.

“Worth it,” he muttered.

You grinned, tracing lazy circles on his skin. “Definitely worth it.”

---

“Red Marks and Red Faces”

The locker room buzzed with post-mission chatter, half-dressed pro-heroes in various states of undress switching from their hero gear to their casual uniforms. Katsuki Bakugou, still sweaty and irritable from the high-intensity patrol, yanked his tank top over his head and tossed it into his locker.

That’s when it happened.

“Yo, Bakugou,” Kirishima’s voice piped up behind him. “What the hell happened to your back?”

The room seemed to fall into a hushed pause, the question hanging in the air like a live wire. Katsuki stiffened, jaw tightening as he slowly turned to glare over his shoulder.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

But Kirishima was already pointing. “Dude. Your back. It looks like you wrestled a damn wildcat.”

Bakugou blinked, confused for a split second — until the faint burn of the scratches reminded him exactly what Kirishima was talking about. Red marks. Thin, angry lines trailing across his shoulder blades and down his spine. Not deep enough to scar — but definitely obvious. And definitely not from any villain fight.

Kaminari, half in his shirt, leaned over to look. “Whoa. Are those… scratch marks?” He grinned. “Wait, wait — no villain did that. That looks personal.”

Bakugou growled, jerking his shirt from the locker and yanking it on.

“They’re from the last fight,” he muttered.

But it was too late. Sero was laughing now. “Nah, man. That’s not battle damage. That’s some bedroom battle damage.”

Kirishima’s eyes went wide in realization. “Wait. You’ve got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

Bakugou didn’t answer. His ears were already glowing red.

Kaminari gasped like he was on a soap opera. “Was it the girl you brought to the agency event? The one with the cute smile? Damn, Bakugou, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Sero smirked. “Scratch marks like that? She must’ve had a good time.”

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou snapped, finally losing it, his voice echoing through the locker room. “Mind your damn business!”

But even as he barked at them, his mind flickered back to the night before — your nails raking down his back, breathy moans, the way you whispered his name like a secret only meant for the dark. He hadn’t even felt the scratches in the moment.

He cursed under his breath.

Sero leaned in with a teasing nudge. “Tell her next time to be gentle, man.”

Katsuki shoved him off. “You’re lucky I don’t blow your damn face off.”

Kirishima chuckled and gave him a fist bump on the way out. “No shame, bro. Just maybe bring some aloe next time.”

Left fuming and red-eared, Bakugou slammed his locker shut, muttering under his breath. Still, as he left the room, a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Because the truth was — he didn’t mind the scratches.

Not one damn bit.

---

No Time Like a Bad Time

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Rating: Mature / Explicit (soft smut, implied sex)

Setting: Bakugo's bedroom, evening

Tags: NSFW, semi-public risk, parental interruption, heavy makeout, implied penetration, humor

---

You never made it to the bed.

Your back was against his bedroom wall, legs around his waist, shirt lost somewhere near the door. Bakugo’s mouth was hot and possessive, hands rough as they slid up your thighs, pushing your underwear aside without a second thought.

“Couldn’t wait,” he growled, voice hoarse as he pressed his hips forward, teasing you with slow, maddening friction. “You come over lookin’ like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself?”

You moaned into his neck, fingers tangled in his hair. “We’re gonna get caught…”

“Don’t care.” His hand slipped between your bodies, and the next thing you knew, he was inside you in one slow, claiming thrust.

Your breath hitched, head falling back against the wall as he rocked into you, steady and deep. “Fuck,” you whispered, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Katsuki…”

“That’s right,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Say my name again.”

You were gasping against his mouth, trying to keep quiet, trying and failing. The heat between you was dizzying, his breath ragged in your ear, the sound of skin on skin filling the room—

And then the door slammed open.

“Hey, Katsuki, have you—”

Mitsuki’s voice froze mid-sentence.

You both froze too. Bakugo still inside you, your legs locked around him, his hand gripping your ass, both of you wide-eyed like deer in headlights.

Masaru’s horrified gasp came from behind her.

Bakugo didn’t even turn around. He just rested his forehead on your shoulder and let out the most exhausted sigh of his life. “…Fucking hell.”

You scrambled to yank the nearest blanket off the bed to cover yourself, but there was no real saving this moment.

Mitsuki’s scream could’ve shattered glass. “ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?! IN MY HOUSE?! WHILE I’M HOME?! WHAT THE FUCK, KATSUKI?!”

Masaru was already halfway down the hall, muttering something about trauma and therapy.

“OUT!” Bakugo barked, voice cracking like an explosion. “GET OUT!”

“YOU BETTER BE USING A CONDOM!” she shrieked before slamming the door shut with enough force to shake the walls.

Silence.

You blinked up at Bakugo, still inside you, still panting, both of you stunned into stillness.

“…So,” you said, barely able to look at him, “do we finish… or cry forever?”

He groaned. “Gimme ten seconds to reset my soul.”

---

You woke up in Bakugo’s bed tangled in sheets and shame.

The sunlight coming through the window was soft. The room still smelled faintly of sweat and skin and sex. Katsuki was still asleep, one arm draped lazily across your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

You considered pretending you were dead. That seemed easier than walking downstairs and facing the two people who had literally walked in on you mid-thrust less than twelve hours ago.

But then—like a horror movie jump scare—you heard Mitsuki yell from downstairs:

“BREAKFAST’S READY, YOU TWO! AND YOU BETTER COME DOWN FULLY DRESSED!”

Bakugo groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “Nope. I’m faking my death. Tell my mom I’m gone. Left the country.”

You shoved his shoulder. “We have to go. If we don’t, it’ll somehow get worse.”

“I literally had my dick out when she walked in. It can’t get worse.”

You were wrong.

It got worse.

The moment you stepped into the kitchen, Masaru nearly choked on his coffee and refused to make eye contact with either of you. Bakugo kept his head down like a dog in trouble. You sat across from Mitsuki, who smirked like she’d been waiting her entire life for this moment.

“So…” she began, sipping her tea. “Did we have a good night?”

You choked on your juice.

Bakugo snapped, “MOM.”

“Oh relax. I’m not mad anymore,” she said cheerfully, piling eggs onto your plate. “Traumatized, sure. But it’s not like I didn’t know my son was sexually active. He’s loud enough when you’re not here.”

Masaru made a whimpering noise and physically left the room.

You wanted to melt into the chair and disappear.

“Katsuki, I hope you’re not just going at it raw like some idiot. I didn’t raise a dumbass.”

“I—what the hell kind of conversation is this?” Bakugo snapped, ears red. “Stop talking about my dick at the breakfast table!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t been using it in front of me!” she shot back.

You slowly, silently put down your fork. “I’m… gonna go. Pack my stuff. Change my name. Maybe flee the country.”

Mitsuki smiled sweetly. “Take your time, sweetheart. You were excellent under pressure.”

You didn’t come back for breakfast again for two months.

"Static Hearts"

The sun had just started to set, casting a golden glow over the U.A. training grounds. You sat on the bleachers, nursing a bottle of water after a long training session. Denki Kaminari was pacing nervously nearby, chewing on his lower lip.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He kept glancing your way, then turning back around and muttering something to himself.

“Denki,” you called. “Are you okay? You look like you're about to short-circuit.”

He jumped—literally—and gave you a sheepish grin. “Haha, yeah! Totally fine. Just, uh… processing. Y’know. Brain stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you process before doing something dumb?”

“Ouch,” he said, mock-pouting. “That was rude. Accurate, but rude.”

You laughed, and he rubbed the back of his neck, the blush rising to his cheeks like a voltage spike. “Okay, uh… can I tell you something? Like… serious something?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, of course.”

He took a deep breath and stepped in front of you, eyes unusually steady despite the sparks dancing along his fingertips.

“I know I joke around a lot. And I know I’m not exactly the smoothest guy in the class—”

“You once flirted with a vending machine,” you reminded him.

“That machine ate my money, it was a declaration of war,” he said, flustered, but quickly shook his head. “Anyway. The point is… I like you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

You blinked, stunned, as he kept going, words tumbling out in a rush.

“And I’m not saying I expect you to feel the same, but I just—every time you smile, I feel like I could overload. In a good way! Not in the ‘eyes-go-blank-I’m-a-human-lightning-rod’ kind of way. I just… had to say it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you smiled.

“You’re such a dork.”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh nooo, that’s it. I’m fried. I blew it.”

You reached out and tugged his sleeve gently. “Denki.”

He peeked at you through his fingers.

“I like you too.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—really? Like, seriously? No short-circuiting joke?”

“No joke,” you said, standing up to face him. “I think you’re funny. And brave. And sweet. And yeah… a little dumb sometimes.”

He grinned, the electricity in his hair sparking wildly now. “That’s fair.”

Then, suddenly unsure, he held out his hand. “So, uh… can I take you on a real date? No vending machines involved.”

You laced your fingers through his. “You’d better.”

---

“Diaper Duty and Daddy Feelings”

Setting: Rengoku Home – 3:12 AM

The house was quiet. Dark. Peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

A sharp, angry wail split the silence, and Kyojuro shot upright like he’d been summoned to war.

“I’ve got her!” he declared in a whisper-yell, nearly tripping on his own haori as he dashed toward the nursery.

You groaned from bed, half-asleep. “Kyo… it’s okay, I can—”

“No, no, my love! You rest! I am on official flame father duty!”

Inside the nursery, Kyojuro approached the tiny crib with reverence and absolute panic.

“Hello, my little night torch,” he whispered, lifting her up gently. “What a powerful scream! So strong! So bold!”

She responded by immediately peeing on his hand.

“…A glorious gift,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

One chaotic diaper change later, he was staring at a pair of socks.

Tiny, pink, ruffled socks.

He held one up like it was made of ancient magic. “Look at this. Her entire foot fits in the palm of my hand,” he whispered, eyes wide.

Then, softly, like the weight of it had just landed on him: “She’s so small. How can someone this small take up so much of my heart?”

She sneezed.

He gasped. “Bless you, fiery bean!”

The sock dropped. He forgot it entirely.

Instead, he cradled her close, pacing the room with exaggerated care. “When you are older, I will teach you about the stars, and the way maple leaves change, and how to roast the perfect sweet potato.”

She blinked at him. Yawned. Then spit up on his shoulder.

He didn’t even flinch. Just sighed dreamily. “You are perfection.”

By the time you shuffled to the doorway in your robe, you found him sitting in the rocking chair, baby asleep on his chest, one sock still missing, his hair a disaster.

You smiled. “Flame father duty going well?”

He gave you a dazed, radiant smile. “I would die for her.”

“…You’re covered in pee.”

“And I would die again.”

“We Spent Weeks on That Name…”

Setting: Rengoku Household – Three Months After the Baby Was Born

It was early morning. The baby was finally asleep after an epic crying marathon that could’ve rivaled a thunderstorm. You were slumped on the couch, hair a mess, sipping lukewarm tea like it was your last lifeline.

Kyojuro tiptoed in and whispered like it was sacred: “The flame has settled.”

You just stared at him.

“She’s literally drooling on your haori.”

“A small price to pay,” he replied proudly.

The baby—Kaede Ren Rengoku, carefully chosen from your dramatic naming ceremony—was swaddled and dozing on his shoulder. Peaceful. Angelic. Finally.

Then Haru walked in.

Still yawning, hair sticking up in every direction, he glanced at the baby and said, “Sup, Meatball.”

You blinked.

“…What?”

Haru grabbed toast. “Meatball. I don’t know. Her head’s round. It’s kind of cute.”

Kyojuro gasped in horror. “She is not a meatball! She is our daughter! A sacred spark of destiny!”

“Sacred spark’s been farting for three hours straight,” Haru mumbled.

Aiko walked in behind him and nearly dropped her tea. “Wait. Did you just call her Meatball?”

“She looks like one today!”

“She really does,” Aiko agreed way too fast.

You buried your face in your hands. “Guys, we picked her name with, like, two family meetings and tears and a Google doc.”

Kyojuro sniffed. “It was a noble quest.”

And yet… two days later, you found yourself cradling her and whispering, “Shh, it’s okay, little Meatball…”

The room went silent.

You looked up.

Your whole family was staring at you.

“…Don’t say it.”

They said it anyway.

“IT STICKS!!”

From that moment on, little Kaede Ren—your beautifully named, carefully swaddled child—was known as Meatball to every Rengoku under your roof.

You gave up. You leaned into it.

And honestly? She was kind of a cute meatball.

---

"Just a Flesh Wound, Bro"

Featuring: Hawks, Mt. Lady, and Fat Gum

The city block was a mess—smoke rising, civilians scattered, and one suspiciously chill figure sitting against a mailbox like she was on break from a 9-to-5 at Chaos Inc.

That figure… was you.

Blood streamed down the side of your head like you were trying to cosplay as a crime scene, and yet there you sat—legs crossed, phone in hand, scrolling like it was just another Tuesday.

Enter: Pro Heroes on Patrol.

Hawks landed first, feathers flicking as he scanned the area. “Whoa there, sweetheart, I think your brain’s trying to escape through your forehead.”

You glanced up. “Oh. Hey. Want some gum?” You held up a pack with bloody fingers like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“…Are you offering me gum while actively leaking out of your skull?”

“Yeah, but it’s watermelon. So, limited time.”

Mt. Lady stomped onto the scene, larger-than-life as always. She squatted down, eyes wide. “Girl, are you okay?! You’re BLEEDING. Like, horror movie bleeding!”

“Am I?” You pulled your phone out, turned it to selfie mode, and gave a nod. “Oh yeah, that’s gnarly. But my eyeliner’s still sharp. So, win.”

Fat Gum ran up, out of breath but full of hero spirit. “We need a medic! Now!”

You waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve had worse.”

“You’ve had worse than a head wound that looks like a murder weapon?”

“Well, one time I hit my head on a metal pole trying to catch a falling hot dog. Nearly died for a bratwurst. Totally worth it.”

Hawks crouched next to you. “Okay, but like. Real question. On a scale of 1 to ‘you’re about to pass out,’ how conscious are you?”

You gave him finger guns. “I’ve got 3% battery and no charger, baby.”

“…Okay she’s officially my favorite civilian,” Hawks whispered to Mt. Lady.

Fat Gum was already wrapping gauze around your head like he was prepping a burrito. “You’re lucky we found you when we did.”

“Honestly,” you mumbled as your head slumped slightly, “if I die, make sure my funeral playlist slaps. Put ‘Stayin’ Alive’ on it for irony.”

You passed out with a little peace sign in the air.

Hawks leaned over. “I vote we adopt her. Anyone else?”

Mt. Lady nodded. “100%. She's clearly too chill to function alone.”

Fat Gum gently lifted you like a sleepy toddler. “She’s gonna be the most chaotic little sibling we never asked for.”

You snored.

---

"In His Arms"

The soft hum of the hospital room filled the silence between you and Izuku. You lay propped up on the pillows, tired but glowing, as you watched your husband sit frozen in the nearby chair, staring at the bundle in his arms like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever held.

“Are you okay?” you whispered with a tired smile.

He looked up at you, eyes wide, already glassy with emotion. “He’s… he’s so small. I’m afraid to move.”

You laughed softly, your hand brushing your own tired eyes. “You’ve held babies before.”

“Yeah, but not ours. Not my son.” Izuku looked back down, his hand cradling the baby's head like he was made of paper. “He’s got your nose… and I think my ears.”

The baby gave a tiny yawn and wriggled in his arms. Izuku froze.

“Did I do something wrong?!”

You shook your head gently. “No, love. He’s just dreaming. You’re doing everything right.”

Izuku sat completely still, not even daring to shift his weight. His hair was a mess, his hero uniform jacket thrown over the hospital chair behind him. He hadn’t left your side once.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted quietly, “but I know I want to do it perfectly.”

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you said, voice growing soft as sleep pulled at you. “Just love him. Like you already do.”

His eyes softened. “I love you both so much it hurts.”

As the baby settled in his arms, Izuku slowly stood up, walking carefully to your bedside. He sat beside you, cradling your son between the two of you.

“He’s going to be so brave,” he said in a hushed tone. “But I’ll be careful. I’ll be gentle. I’ll protect him with everything I have. Always.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, your fingers brushing over the baby's blanket. “He’s got you. He’s already safe.”

In the quiet of the hospital room, with the city far outside and the world on pause, Izuku Midoriya held his son like he was holding the whole future.

And to him, maybe he was.

---

Explosive Love: Final Chapter – The Fartening: UA Edition

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Class 1-A Babysitting Chaos

Genre: Pure Crack, Full Ensemble, Epic Finale

Summary: In a desperate bid to prove they’re “hero-ready,” Class 1-A volunteers to babysit together. Team effort, they said. It’ll be fine, they said. But nothing—nothing—could prepare them for one baby and her Quirk: Mass Gas Destruction.

---

“You guys SURE about this?” Kirishima asked, holding your baby like she was the final boss.

The entire 1-A squad stood in formation—matching shirts, notebooks, snacks, and Mina with a whiteboard battle plan.

“This baby’s just a baby,” said Denki, already sweating but smiling. “We’ve survived finals!”

“She’s literally two feet tall,” Mineta scoffed. “What’s the worst she can—”

PFFFFFT.

The baby made direct eye contact with him as it echoed.

Everyone froze.

Bakugo walked by the door, still emotionally scarred. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered. “Little demon’s got a Quirk worse than mine.”

---

Phase 1: Attempt Diplomacy

Iida read a book aloud. Momo sang softly. Tokoyami played ominous jazz on a toy piano.

The baby?

She waited.

Ochaco: “She’s so quiet…”

Tsuyu: “Too quiet.”

PHBRRRRRT.

Half the team hit the deck.

“WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!” Kaminari screamed.

---

Phase 2: Divide and Conquer

Jirou and Ojiro tried calming her with lullabies.

Kirishima and Mina tag-teamed diaper duty.

Sero built a fart-proof barrier with tape.

The baby? She broke through it.

“HOW DID SHE BREACH THE TAPE LINE?!” Sero yelled, diving for cover.

“THIS ISN’T TAPE-RESISTANT GAS!” yelled Yaoyorozu, sketching a hazmat blueprint midair.

---

Phase 3: Full Meltdown

A fart rolled across the room like thunder.

Ashido screamed, “EVACUATE THE FLOOR!”

Todoroki used ice walls. She melted them with a warm, low pbbbt.

Bakugo peeked in again. “Still think this was a good idea?”

“LEAVE,” screamed Denki, wrapped in a baby blanket and crying.

“I can’t feel my legs,” muttered Mineta from under the couch.

“I think she farted my Quirk offline,” Deku whispered, stunned.

---

Final Phase: Acceptance

Aizawa arrived to find the class scattered like a lost battle scene.

The baby sat in the center, giggling and reaching for her pacifier, a picture of peace after the storm.

“I see she won,” he said.

“She always wins,” Kirishima groaned, gently scooping her up.

“She’s gonna be a future Number One,” Todoroki murmured, still clutching a Febreze can like a sword.

The baby looked around.

Smiled.

And let out one final, echoing toot.

---

Epilogue:

She grew up to be a kind, strong, powerful young girl.

…Her Quirk? "Pressure Release" – a combustion-based gas emission with trajectory control.

Pro Hero Name: Windbreaker.

Bakugo never recovered.

Kirishima was proud.

You? You carried Febreze in your hero utility belt—forever.

The End.

---

Explosive Love: Part 5 – Sero & Denki: Bros vs Baby Bomb

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Babysitters Hanta Sero & Denki Kaminari

Genre: Chaotic Comedy, Tag-Team Disaster

Summary: They called themselves the “Ultimate Babysitter Duo.” They wore matching shirts. They brought snacks. They were so sure they’d nail it. But the baby had other plans… and Denki forgot to bring nose plugs.

---

“I don’t see the problem,” Denki said confidently as he adjusted his “BABY DUTY” headband.

“We’ve got this,” Sero agreed, tossing a roll of duct tape into the air and catching it like it was part of his combat gear. “Two pros. One baby. No fear.”

Kirishima opened the door, holding the baby like she was made of nitroglycerin.

“You guys sure you’re ready?” he asked for the tenth time.

“Dude,” Denki grinned, “we’ve babysat a cat before.”

“Yeah,” Sero added, “and that cat only pooped in Denki’s shoe once. So, like. We’re trained.”

You raised an eyebrow. “She’s... different.”

The baby gurgled sweetly.

FORESHADOWING INTENSIFIES

---

T+15 Minutes:

They were vibing. Music playing. Baby bouncing. Denki had given her a sparkly bow headband, and Sero was trying to teach her to high-five.

“This is easy,” Denki said, stretching out on the couch. “I think we’re naturally gifted.”

PFFFT.

The sound was small.

The smell was not.

Sero went still. “Was that… her?”

Denki waved his hand dramatically. “Whoa—why is it spicy?!”

The baby grinned and clapped. Like a tiny villain. A very proud one.

PHBRRRRTTTT.

Denki staggered back like he'd been shot. “THAT ONE HAD VIBRATION!!”

---

T+28 Minutes:

Denki was hiding behind the kitchen island.

“She’s targeting me,” he whispered into a banana, pretending it was a walkie-talkie.

Sero was kneeling on the couch with a blanket over his nose. “We’ve got gas, repeat, full gas zone! Operation Diaper Storm is a go!”

“Negative!” Denki cried. “I am NOT opening that containment zone!”

“YOU fed her the applesauce!”

“I didn’t know applesauce unlocked her final form!”

The baby squealed with laughter.

---

T+40 Minutes:

There was tape on the walls. Baby wipes scattered across the battlefield. Sero was trying to MacGyver a diaper disposal unit out of a trash can and a fan.

Denki was holding a candle like it was holy protection.

“She’s too powerful,” he muttered. “This baby runs on nuclear.”

“Not even All Might trained for this,” Sero whispered.

The baby let out a tiny, victorious toot.

Both men froze.

“Brace for impact.”

---

When you returned, you found Sero with clothespins on his nose and Denki wearing swimming goggles for no reason.

“She’s asleep,” Sero said weakly.

“But at what cost?” Denki added.

You scooped up your peacefully snoozing, deceptively innocent child.

Kirishima chuckled. “So… you guys wanna try again next week?”

They spoke in unison: “HELL. NO.”

---

Next up: Aizawa stops by to “observe.”

Explosive Love: Part 4 – Mina’s Turn (And She’s Ready for War)

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Babysitter Mina Ashido

Genre: Crack fluff, Chaos, Girl Power vs Baby Gas Power

Summary: After hearing the legends of Baby Boom, Mina insists on babysitting. Confident. Fearless. Fabulous. She walks in like it’s a spa day. But this baby has no mercy—and Mina’s about to find out that cute pink hair doesn’t protect you from napalm-level toots.

---

“Guys, please,” Mina waved her hand dramatically as she slid her sunglasses down. “How bad could one tiny baby be?”

Kirishima and you just stared at her.

“Bakugo almost cried,” you offered gently.

“Deku said his lungs aged five years,” Kirishima added.

“Todoroki won't make eye contact with any infants anymore,” you finished.

Mina grinned. “So she’s a little spicy. I’m spicy. We’ll vibe.”

You handed the baby over. She cooed. Mina winked.

"Girls stick together," Mina said proudly.

From the hallway, Kirishima whispered to you, “We should start a timer.”

---

T+10 Minutes:

Mina was dancing in the living room, holding the baby like she was in a music video.

“We’re thriving, girl!” she sang. “Look at you! A queen! A tiny, powerful queen—”

PFFFFFFFFT.

She froze. The baby grinned.

“Okay,” Mina said slowly. “That was... assertive.”

She sniffed.

“Oh no.”

---

T+18 Minutes:

Mina had relocated to the balcony.

“I’m not saying I’m scared,” she said aloud, talking to the baby like a roommate. “But I did just Febreze your diaper like six times. And you’re still going.”

The baby tooted again. Long. Proud. Musical.

Mina blinked. “That one had a melody.”

She pulled out her phone. “Group chat. Emergency. I’m being farted alive.”

---

T+30 Minutes:

Kirishima peeked through the window.

Mina was standing in the middle of the living room like a war general, armed with lavender incense, baby wipes, and a fan in each hand. The baby sat smugly in a bouncer, thumping her legs like a war drum.

You sipped your drink calmly. “She’s gone full tactical.”

Kirishima whistled. “I’ve never seen Mina sweat before.”

PHHHBBT.

Inside, Mina yelled, “I DON’T DESERVE THIS!”

---

T+50 Minutes:

When you returned, the scene was… dramatic.

Mina was lying flat on the couch, a cold washcloth over her forehead.

“She won,” she mumbled. “I tried… I really tried.”

The baby was sound asleep in her arms, looking peaceful—like she hadn’t just gas-bombed a fully trained pro hero.

Kirishima picked her up and sniffed cautiously. “She’s… calm now?”

Mina sat up slowly. “She was never mad. That’s the worst part. She enjoyed it.”

You patted her shoulder. “She respects you now.”

Mina exhaled. “Good. She can remember that next time, when I show up in hazmat pink.”

---

Next time: Sero and Denki want to babysit together.

Explosive Love: Part 3 – Baby's Day Out (with Deku & Todoroki)

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Babysitters Deku and Todoroki

Genre: Fluff, Chaos, Babysitting Misadventures

Summary: With Bakugo officially traumatized, Kirishima calls in backup. Enter: Deku (nervous but willing) and Todoroki (unfazed... for now). They think babysitting can’t be that hard. But no one warned them about the gas.

---

Kirishima stood proudly at your front door, holding your baby out like she was the MVP of the season.

“She’s all yours, boys,” he beamed. “Don’t worry—Bakugo might’ve exaggerated.”

Todoroki blinked. “I heard she took him down in under an hour.”

Deku nodded nervously, already scribbling in a notebook. “According to my calculations, the frequency of her emissions shouldn’t cause structural damage to a normal household…”

Kirishima slapped his back. “Just don’t let her eat anything orange.”

You blinked. “Wait, why not—”

SLAM.

Too late. The door closed. Operation: Babysitter Bros had begun.

---

Thirty minutes in…

“So, uh… she’s really cute,” Deku said, rocking her gently in his arms. “Look at that smile—so sweet and—”

BRRRT!

He froze.

“That… was a strong one.”

Todoroki leaned in. “I think it shook the floor.”

Deku sniffed cautiously. “Why does it smell like… burnt oatmeal and vengeance?”

Todoroki tilted his head. “It’s oddly impressive. Like she has an internal combustion engine.”

The baby kicked and giggled as if in agreement.

PFFFFT.

Deku panicked. “We need containment!”

Todoroki calmly reached for the diaper bag like a man preparing to diffuse a bomb. “I’ve got this.”

---

One hour in…

Todoroki stood stoically, holding a can of air freshener in one hand and your baby in the other.

“She has attacked three times in twenty minutes.”

Deku peeked out from behind a pillow fort. “I think she’s evolving.”

The baby let out a mighty squeal and flopped happily onto the blanket.

“Her power…” Deku whispered, wide-eyed. “It’s unmatched.”

PHBBBT.

“She’s aiming at me now,” Todoroki said, deadpan. “I admire her accuracy.”

Deku scribbled in his notes. “Hero Name: Gas Mask. Quirk: High-Pressure Flatulence.”

“Wait until Aizawa hears about this…”

---

When you and Kirishima returned, the living room looked like the aftermath of a low-level disaster.

Blankets scattered. Windows open. A fan running full blast.

Deku was fanning himself with a baby book. Todoroki was sitting perfectly still, staring into space.

“She’s asleep,” Deku whispered. “But the damage… it’s been done.”

Kirishima picked up the baby gently, like she was made of pure dynamite. “Did she…?”

Todoroki didn’t break eye contact. “She farted on my soul.”

---

Next time: Mina wants to babysit.

Explosive Love: Part 2 – Babysitter Bakugo

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Reluctant Babysitter Bakugo

Genre: Comedy, Fluff, Chaos

Summary: Kirishima finally convinces Bakugo to babysit for just one hour. It goes exactly how you'd expect—except worse. Because the baby still has her secret weapon: farts. And Bakugo? He's not ready.

---

“I swear, it’ll only be an hour,” Kirishima said, practically bouncing with excitement as you both stood by the door.

Bakugo stood in the living room, arms crossed, expression thunderous. “Why the hell am I even here?”

“You owe me!” Kirishima grinned, already tossing him the diaper bag. “Remember that time I took a lightning bolt for you during that joint training exercise?”

“That was three years ago!”

“And I still have the scar.”

You tried not to laugh as you slipped your shoes on. “Don’t worry, she’s napping. Easiest babysitting gig ever.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re lying.”

You and Kirishima bolted before he could say anything else.

---

Exactly three minutes later…

PFFFFFFFFTTT

Bakugo stared in horror at the tiny being in front of him.

“What the hell was that.”

The baby gurgled innocently from her blanket on the floor. Her eyes locked onto Bakugo’s, gleaming with the chaos of a true menace.

PFFT-BRRRRT.

“…OH HELL NO.”

Bakugo shot up, backing away like she’d just thrown a grenade. “Why does she sound like a damn motorboat?!”

The baby let out a victorious squeal, rolling slightly. The air grew thick with danger.

“I swear to—KIRISHIMA, YOU SET ME UP!”

He pinched his nose and tiptoed over with a blanket held like a shield. “Okay, okay. You got your joke. Ha ha. Very funny. Diaper change time.”

He opened the diaper.

“Oh my god.”

---

Thirty minutes in…

Bakugo was pacing the room, the baby on his hip, burping.

“Come on, I fight villains who can control freakin’ fire. I blow stuff up for a living. I’m not scared of a little—”

PFFFT.

“…I am terrified.”

He glared at her. “What the hell are you eating? Lava?!”

She giggled and patted his cheek sweetly. Then promptly let another one rip.

---

One hour later…

Kirishima opened the door and found Bakugo standing in the hallway, shirtless, holding your baby at arm’s length like a contaminated bomb.

“She farted on my neck,” Bakugo said quietly. “I can still feel it.”

Kirishima blinked. “Where’s your shirt?”

“She won. That’s where it is.”

You took the baby from him, laughing as she snuggled into your shoulder.

“She’s a menace,” Bakugo muttered, turning to leave. “And I’m never stepping foot in this house again.”

Kirishima grinned. “See ya next week, bro. Same time?”

Bakugo didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

PFFFT.

Your daughter let out one final farewell.

Bakugo didn’t even turn around. “Tell her to keep that war crime to herself next time.”

---

Explosive Love (Literally)

Pairing: Eijiro Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Domestic

Summary: Kirishima thought being a dad would be all hero work and cuddles. He wasn’t prepared for your baby’s fiery talent… and it’s directed at him. Constantly.

---

You weren’t sure how something so small could be so dangerously gassy.

Seriously. It was almost impressive.

"She’s like a tiny grenade," you said, watching from the kitchen as your husband Kirishima sat cross-legged on the nursery floor, cradling your giggly five-month-old daughter.

"A grenade that only targets me," he groaned, face twisted between adoration and mild horror.

Pfffft.

Another one. Right on his thigh.

Kirishima paused mid-coo, lips parting. “That’s the fourth one in ten minutes. I counted.”

You tried not to laugh. “Maybe she’s marking her territory?”

He gave you a look. “So I’m the chosen one?”

Pfffft.

“Yup. Chosen again.”

The baby squealed with delight as if she knew what she was doing. Her chubby legs kicked against his chest, and Kirishima caught her, smiling through the torture.

“She’s got your quirk,” you teased, folding a tiny pink onesie. “Only hers is less… hardening and more—”

“Exploding,” he finished flatly. “Her quirk is butt bombs.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand.

Kirishima held the baby up in the air like Simba, her diaper dangerously close to his face. “Why do you do this to me, princess? I’m your dad! I’m supposed to be your hero, not your toilet paper!”

Pfffffbbbbt.

“NOOO!”

You had to sit down you were laughing so hard.

He lowered her slowly. “You know, when I imagined fatherhood, I pictured late-night feedings, lullabies, maybe the occasional diaper mishap. I did not expect my daughter to weaponize flatulence.”

You finally caught your breath and walked over, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re still her hero.”

Kirishima grinned up at you, defeated. “Yeah… even if she’s the real explosive one in the family.”

The baby gave one final toot, this time small but powerful enough to make him flinch.

"…I think I’m gonna need backup."

---

I've currently finished a series featuring fem reader x kirishima, it's about 6 chapters♡