My Guess For Redacted—Lady Nagant. She Got To Be Reformed, Saved From Her Past. She Got To Restart

.ᐟ sign this for me

k.takami smau

when you’re the assistant to the #2 hero

a/n: i made an exception with half my screen missing to post for keigo’s birthday. back into my hole i go

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🫶

currently having heart palpitation over hawks being soft just for you. subby!hawks

you’re the one person where he feels comfortable shedding his many personas, the only one who actually makes him feel safe. it’s why he’s here now, arms wrapped tightly around your waist, face pressed into your neck, huffing down your scent like a man seeking reason in a mad world

he’s a performer, a do-gooder, a hero intent on flashing bells and whistles so no one will know that the pain originates inside of him, so the minute he hears your soft little voice say, “bad day, baby?” he’s practically doubled over in gratitude, in relief—finally, finally, he can put the performance away

he just nods against your neck, body tense, and lets you take the lead. closes his eyes tight to keep himself from falling apart when you whisper in his ear, “let me do all the thinking, then, okay?”

when you care for him like this, he’s hesitant to call it sex. it’s something more sacred, divine, your body transcending the words he knows you long to use. you make him feel something he’s never felt in his entire life

you gently push him onto the couch and unbuckle his pants, knowing smile curling your lips when you see how hard he is, straining along the length of his thigh

“poor baby,” you coo and lean in, licking him through his briefs. he nearly cums then and there, fists his hand in the back of your hair to stop you—

“sorry gorgeous,” he says, chest heaving. you love taking care of him because it produces this effect, golden eyes blown out in arousal, wings rippling out and preening behind him. “need you too much for that.”

both of you undress economically and without fuss—skin-to-skin contact is the goal, and hawks already thinks of your beauty as sacrosanct. it doesn’t matter if you sashay your hips at him or not; the want is there 24/7 regardless

you cup his face in your hands and kiss him, gently working your clit along the head of his cock, rubbing back and forth until his hands clamp down on your hips in a silent plea

hawks’ arms wrap around your waist once you roll down onto him, holding you close, forehead pressed to yours as you ride him, mouth hung open in pleasure

he begs you to go harder, faster, “please dove, feel how fucking close I am” as his cock pulses inside you

as he gets closer, he mumbles a litany of moans and whimpers into your neck, punctuating each roll of his hips with a claim, “my darling, my little bird, my fucking girl”—drinks in the sight of you falling apart on his lap like a man finding salvation

later, when you're carding your fingers through his hair in the shower, he says what he's been meaning to for months, "I love you, too"

ive become captivated by this silly guy so woe, doggy yagi art be upon you

inspired by @onesmolbean49 (go check them out!)

+ some feral doggy yagi sketches. his feral & anthro designs are pretttty much identical, but the face shape was just too much fun to change, i peaked with that

These were practice sketches for my Dichotomy au but out of context you wouldn't be able to tell the difference from his actual backstory which breaks my fucking heart...

He was just a kid 💔

ProHero Bakugou x UA teacher reader (best friends to lovers)

Part 1

“Yeah, sorry Mina.” A nervous chuckle leaves your throat as you press the phone to your ear. Your friend had finally calmed down, so you had to call your other friend to tell her she could enjoy the rest of her night. “I’m glad you guys hadn’t left yet, otherwise I’d feel terrible.”

After exchanging a few more words and telling her to have a goodnight, you end the call and shove the phone into your back pocket. Now you had to deal with the mess Bakugou had made trying to make it to your front door. He’d thrown himself to his feet the second your story ended and it registered to him that you’d been disrespected by a man who’d cried to him just days ago about you.

“I’ll clean it, don’t worry about it.” You noticed the way his red eyes couldn’t meet yours and the stiffness in his shoulders as you began to clean the spilled candy he’d knocked from your table. “I can’t believe you waste time on asshats like that.”

“How was your date?” He’d always disapproved of the men you had in your life, so changing the subject was the only way out of another you can do better speech. “I didn’t get any SOS texts so I assume it went well enough.”

The tiny candies are tossed into the trash while Bakugou ignores your question. He didn’t want to talk about the girl he couldn’t remember the name of or the less than worth it date he’d taken her on. You’d just scold him for being picky and tell him he’d die alone at this rate, and with the weight in his chest every time you texted him- he’d started to believe it himself.

“Kats, I’m talking to you.” Your best friend was notoriously known for being an asshole, but he never ignored your questions, he was usually over the moon to tell you every detail of his dates- including the ones you could live without ever knowing. “Are you seriously mad I wouldn’t let you ruin your career over a guy I didn’t even like that much?”

“I’m pissed.” He answers, straightening your coffee table. Returning to the spot he’d previously been sat in on your couch, he finally meets your hardened gaze and rolls his eyes. “The guys a shitty fuckin side kick, and he’s out here sleeping with other women?”

“It’s fine.” Being friends with Katsuki Bakugou had always been troublesome. He was too angry for his own good, and you hated how he let such small things set him off. You didn’t care if it was true, and the guy had slept with someone else, it was over and you wouldn’t miss him. “You know I’m okay, right?”

“Not the point, kid.” The stupid nickname he’d always used when things got tense, kid. An insult he’d called you when you were students and you struggled to keep up with his ever growing strength. “You’re not some random hookup, you shouldn’t keep letting bottom barrel no body’s treat you like one.”

“That’s what I wanted though, he wanted to date and I’m the one who said no.” Your career was important to you, so dating wasn’t something you particularly cared about. Clearly, your best friend didn’t care, rolling his eyes again as you plop beside him and throw your legs into his lap. “If wed been dating maybe I’d be upset, but we weren’t so it is what it is.”

Comfortable silence replaces the thick tension the room had been filled with just minutes ago. Something about the way his fingertips brushed lazily across your bare legs made you forget why you’d even been arguing with him in the first place. The world might know him as the explosive hero with zero people skills, but behind closed doors, he was truly one of the softest kindest people you’d ever met. Sure, it took years of friendship and many many arguments to find that heavily guarded part of him burried under the thicker less bearable layers of his personality- but once you did, he never hid it from you again.

“I’m crashing here tonight, I’ll shower in the morning.” His voice sounded distant, like he’d been a thousand miles away as he stared blankly out the window beside him. You’d learned he zoned out far too often and his mind just spoke itself. “Since someone had to fight me for 30 minutes and now I don’t have time.”

“Uh huh, blame me.” You weren’t usually one to drop an argument, especially one you knew you’d when. But you were enjoying the soft glide of his fingers running up and down your shin to even try to argue. “I have to be out by 6. The train leaves at 6:10, so try not to be an ass in the morning.”

You preferred public transport, so waking up early was just a part of your routine now. Your poor car had hardly driven a mile in months, sitting sadly in the car park. Driving was for people with no patience, and you had plenty.

“I’ll take you to work on my way in, so I can buy you coffee as an I’m sorry.” And so he could spend a few extra minutes with you, he tells himself silently. “I could pop in and scare your students into behaving.”

“No. they already assume you’re my husband bevause you’re there so often.” It was true. Your students had asked you a thousand times if the two of you lived together, if Dynamite was a good husband, and all the things that made you laugh uncomfortablly at 7 in the morning. “Plus, you know if Mr. Aizawa sees you again he’ll kick your ass. I know you miss your bestie all day- but please try to control yourself.”

“Not possible. I’ve been tryin to control myself- but yaknow, someone needs pants or a coffee or a damn charger everyday.” He smirks, blocking your foot from nudging him in faux annoyance. “Just because I’m a Hero doesn’t mean you can keep usin me like this.”

“Yeah? How do you suggest I use you then Dynamite?” Your stupid question had left your mouth before you even realized how it sounded, causing your face to burn and your feet to retract from his lap to allow you to burry your face in your knees. “Fuckin hell, ignore that- I didn’t mean for that to sound so suggestive.”

“Nah, I get it. You’re totally into me.”

———

Just had to let yall know their dynamic, fun stuff happens soon.

Also waited until midnight to post because ITS MY BIRTHDAY GANG!!!

-Parchy💖

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todo sibling gc: merry crisis

feat: todoroki siblings, you are dating touya 🖤

warnings / cache notes: language, kys joke, touya being a brat, fem!reader, texts to fuyumi are touya’s pov!

req📌: more holiday todo fam content! creds to my bitches in switch city who gave me the idea <3

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© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

Mha texts where reader reposts like sorta sad songs but it just turns out as a misunderstanding. Hope that made sense😅😅

mha boys reaction to sad song reposts

> i tried to match the songs to their "personality" as best as possible...sorry if it's not😓

---

Izuku’s parents you can’t change my mind

Bakugou, whose stamina is unbeatable. Who has just finished fucking you in any place necessary of the bedroom—the bed, the mini-couch, the floor—and still can’t keep his hands off you.

After laying on the bed for rejuvenating moments (at least for him), his large hand slides up your shoulder with a few coaxing kisses.

“Shower,” is all he says, his gruff voice strained and warm breath perceptible against your neck. You just nod weakly and attempt to ignore the mess between your legs.

In fact, he has to carry you to the bathroom. When you’re both in the shower, he still acts as support: your back is to his chest so he bears most of your weight, and his fingers span your lower stomach while you attempt to wash yourself.

You can barely keep your eyes open, so relaxed by the water, but he can see all of you just by where his chin rests on your shoulder. The water and soap sliding past the peaks of your breasts, the souvenirs that you not-so-sternly asked him not to leave on your skin.

Where you rest in front of him, he can’t help but feel aroused all over again, especially rubbing his hands over your supple skin that he couldn’t appreciate the first few rounds, clouded by the roughness you love.

Unable to just watch, he gently spins you around. Your eyes are half-closed, so you pay it no mind. You just continue your slow, leisure washing, completely unaware of the fact that he’s completely hard again, even if you wouldn’t be surprised.

Your eyes open back to reality when he gently takes the loofah from you and hangs it up on the little hook. His muscles casually ripple when he does literally anything, and if you weren’t so attracted to it, you’d be jealous.

“C’mere,” he orders, his voice in that soft tone reserved for you. His hands follow, crossing at your lower back and pulling you toward him even more. The atmosphere is hot and slow with the exhaustion settled into both of you.

You do something of a hum in question, but don’t resist when he leans down and slowly captures your lips in his. Your longing for each other is evident simply in the sigh that follows when you connect.

There’s water dripping everywhere, mostly on you, but the kiss is everything Bakugou usually isn’t: patient, slow, and needy. Actually, no. He was always pretty needy.

“Kat,” you whisper, and he groans in response, stretching his hands up your wet skin until he crosses your ribs, his thumbs move past the side of your breasts, and your arms are naturally guided to his neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were asking, to be honest, but you didn’t care. Not when you could feel the length of him pressed against your stomach.

Bakugou moves a few strands of drenched hair back behind your ear, and then strokes the rest at your nape to keep your head up to him. It was admirable, really, how he could be literally twitching in arousal, and still move like it doesn’t bother him at all.

Although, he is getting closer at hinting to it, because somewhere in the heat, your right leg is being lifted to his hip. When you find an escape from his kiss (he doesn’t allow you many), you glance down to what he’s doing.

He interprets your brows slightly furrowing and the low, tired droop of your eyes, already knowing what you’re going to say.

Voice still soft and practically gone even in distress, you begin, “I can’t go another round. There’s no way I’ll—”

“Shh,” he places a kiss on your forehead, then another at your temple. His head dips to lick and kiss in the crook of your neck, and your fingers either run through his wet, blonde hair or span the muscles of his back. He’s completely gone.

The left hand that upholds your leg starts to massage your thigh and inch up to your ass. “I talk to this pretty pussy almost every night, and you don’t think I know what you can handle?”

A whimper leaves your mouth and your hold tightens around him. Despite your lower body being completely stretched and at ease, he can still feel the tension elsewhere.

He continues, his voice dripping with reassurance, “Slide it in yourself. Then you tell me how it feels.”

And after a few moments and a sigh, you carefully reach down and wrap your fingers around him the best you can. You can feel him react to the movement alone, and with a prayer, you guide his head right to your entrance so you can sink when you’re ready.

When you descend, an immediate whine feels the air. He still fit perfectly from earlier and the sensitivity had tripled.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping yourself around him again. He holds you close.

“Feel good?”

You nod, and he throbs inside at the same time. He kisses you again, making sure to uphold you through your fatigue. Helping those in need was his job after all.

His right hand that covers your lower back loosens so that your weight inches backwards, then it pulls you right back in until you’re pressed against each other.

He groans with pleasure. The vibrations move to your lips that kiss him like he’s the last man on Earth.

And then he does it again, and again, until your head is simply resting on your own shoulder with your arms encircling his neck, water rushing down your hair and back. Your eyes are completely closed as he cradles you, erotic whines, whimpers, and moans falling from your lips into his ear.

Your slick walls drag up and down his skin. He moves so easily in and out that he can feel the outline of where his head usually reaches—the little space left. He was nowhere near as deep right now, but he is sure with the slight bend of his knees, he could have you screaming how you were for the hours before this.

And funnily enough, he doesn’t want you screaming at the moment. It’s something previous Bakugou would never say; not rock hard and needing to be balls deep in you quick Bakugou, at least.

You were worn out and tired, your body unable to take his usual pace. He’s almost 90% sure if he lifted you off the ground, you’d comply and hold on tighter, but he’s not going to push you that far. Not when he’s content like this, caressing your beautiful, dripping figure as you cry his name.

“Mmghn, that feels s-so good.” You speak, just above a whisper. And somehow, he can still hear you over the water and small splash of you both meeting in the middle. It’s like his brain is wired. No matter what, he’ll always be able to hear you.

He nods and kisses the side of your head again, keeping stable and consistently moving with minimal effort. The underside of your right knee is now resting in his elbow, so his hand can hold your waist and pull most of your weight that way instead of trying to push your whole body with just your thigh. At some point, you began helping him out.

“Keep moving your hips just like that, I got you.”

You groan at the instruction, and he chuckles heartily. Love poured from him and into you, making you feel more safe and secure than ever.

It didn’t take long until warmth gathered in your core with your clit dragging back and forth along his cock. He occasionally grunts and has to fix position to keep himself from spilling inside, not before you do first.

He can’t explain the relief he has when you insist that you’re gonna come soon in the form of a warning. It builds with each “thrust” and being so close to him as he carries you to climax.

“I’mna come,” you say again, more rushed this time, but muffled by his shoulder.

“I can feel it.” He responds, keeping pace. “Do you know what it feels like having you pulsing around me? Knowing you’re going straight into your sleep after?”

You shake your head.

“Hell, baby. Hell.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way: the only option you have on sleepless nights being him. When you tap his shoulder or rub yourself against him, knowing he’ll never say no. Hope could he? He takes great pride in being your melatonin.

And, without fail, you fall into a perfect deep sleep, his cum still dripping into or out of you. It’s never there in the morning, and he loves that the only way it will happen is if he wears you out.

“Kattt…” You toss your head back, a low rumble in your throat that you only make when you’re on the verge of completely losing it. He attacks your neck again, letting your body naturally bounce off him and come back.

“Let yourself feel it. Let me take you there,” he encourages gruffly, nipping at your ear.

“Agh, fuck,” you nearly sob, digging yourself further into him somehow.

His eyes shut, a wave of clarity rushing over him. It’s you, his woman, his everything, needing him. He thought he knew what he wanted early in life. He knew he wanted to be desired by others in multiple ways, the best at everything. God, how wrong he was.

Now he wants to be the best at everything for you. Because you deserve nothing less. He doesn’t want to be desired by anyone else but you, because you carry all the validation he could possibly gain dopamine from. Nothing compares to you being completely and utterly dependent on him, clinging to him for dear life.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he spouts, not bothering to stop or care about being sappy. He loves to hear you whine in response, only to finally come up with a few words. Clearly you got the cheesy feeling too.

“L-Love you, Kats.”

He bushels the hair at the bottom of your head with a grunt, tilting your nose up to him. He lets his lips kiss you passionately first, then he pulls away, but obviously not too far since you’re still nose to nose. Your eyebrows are upturned in that sensual expression he loves.

His deep, crimson eyes flicker to your puffy lips, a sign of the night, and land on your pretty damp eyelashes. He was breathless and stern.

“Don’t look away. Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You blink, registering his words with the shake of your head. “Don’t stop,” you plead.

He calls your name, and it’s enough to know he’s being dead serious. Both his grips tighten, mainly the one in your hair, and you don’t know if it’s water dripping down your cheeks or a tear or two.

You can feel your bottom leg beginning to shake, and the heat get to your head.

You shut your eyes instinctively, “K—”

“I’ve got you, don’t even think about it. Look at me.”

Your eyes shoot open in remembrance of his words as he leaves and reenters you again with increased speed, the sound when you slap together even louder. He holds your head in place. “I love you more, baby. More than you can ever dream.”

You watch his eyes and they say everything you can’t, everything he can’t, and that alone is enough to send you over the edge.

Your jaw drops and you literally begin shaking, not caring that all the strength you had left went into your orgasm. Your head pounds with the stream of the shower and fatigue, and your hands begin to slip at his neck, but you don’t even care. You know he’s got you. He said it himself.

“Shit,” he hisses, your orgasm expected, but the power of it not. He almost missed the fact that you were gushing around him by mistaking it as the water, the countless times you’d done this before catching up to you. He keeps thrusting his hips forward and whispering you praises. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

You are sobbing now, real tears as he stills and twitches inside. He holds the promise he made to you since you did the same. He keeps his eyes focused on you, even as white spurts paint your insides, and puts his swollen lips on yours. Through your gasps, you couldn’t kiss him back, so he bites your bottom one instead.

It isn’t until you lose your footing and go limp against him that he bends to pick you up and lower your leg gently. You’re still jerking slightly, your muscles overworked, and the last of his release lands somewhere on your thighs as your back is arched against him.

Before you can say anything or even think about it, he holds you upright and bends down to kiss you with all he has left, now that you’re somewhat here. When it’s over, you fall against him completely.

The rest is a blur, and the next time you know what’s happening, you’re tangled together in the unused guest bedroom.

©️ hxltic