Touchstarved!dabi Who's Unused To Any Sort Of Physical Contact That Isn't Reprimand Or Pain. He Tries

Ooh that post you made abt reader telling Kiri about her assault in more depth than she does Bakugo is so interesting! I'm so curious about what her motivations would be if she did do so.

I can imagine it being for a couple of reasons, my favorite being that it's almost a way for her to get back at redacted without having to directly face him. Like she doesn't love Kiri like she does Bakugo, so she doesn't care about hurting his feelings or upsetting him by unloading her trauma on him. She can see Kiri as a direct connection to redacted. It would hurt Kiri more than it would Bakugo to hear about the horrible things this man he's revered and based his whole hero persona off of has done. And hurting people (especially someone you view as an extension of your abuser) with all of the unresolved and unhealed trauma she has probably feels really good, as immature as that sounds.

At least it feels good in the moment. Until she has to hear from Bakugo how torn up Kirishima is about it. And until she has to see how hurt Bakugo is by the fact that she confided in his friend before him

Sorry this is so long and ramble-y lmao I’ve been v invested in the TikTok reader series

NO YOU'RE EXACRLY RIGHT THIS IS EHAT I WAS THINKING!!

its an act of violence. it's purposefully upsetting Kiri, partially to flex control over the situation, partially because hurting him feels good!!!

I still don't think she says a name, but she says something like.

"He had red hair. Just like yours. I see him in your face. In that glint in your eye.

"Do you want to hurt women too, Kirishima? Are you like him?'

part one

the music was loud. too loud. bass-heavy beats rattled the walls, drowning out drunken conversations and the occasional, ear-splitting whoo! from someone who’d had one too many shots. the house was packed, every square inch filled with people who weren’t you.

and yet, katsuki saw only you.

leaning against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, your head tilted back as you laughed at something some random asshole said. katsuki barely registered the guy’s face. all he saw was the way your smile stretched wide, the way your hand rested lightly on the counter, the way you weren’t paying attention to him.

his grip on his own cup tightened.

eijiro had ditched him ages ago, somewhere between his third beer and his “dude, i gotta check on my little sister.” which meant you were supposed to be under watch. which meant you shouldn’t be standing here, giggling at some nobody like you didn’t have a six-foot, red-haired menace for a brother who was ready to kick some ass.

“off limits, dude.”

bullshit.

katsuki wasn’t the type to step in unless absolutely necessary. but this? this was necessary.

he stormed over, his presence sucking the air from the room the second he got close. the guy talking to you faltered mid-sentence, side-eyeing katsuki like he’d just realized he’d been trespassing.

“oh—uh... hey, man, what’s up?”

“scram.”

the guy blinked.

“what?”

katsuki took another step forward, eyes glinting under the dim, neon glow of the kitchen lights.

“you deaf? i said scram.”

he didn’t have to say it twice.

you rolled your eyes as your partner scurried off, not wanting to test his luck against bakugou katsuki.

“really?” you sighed, crossing your arms. “was that necessary?”

“you tell me,” katsuki muttered, his eyes flicking over you, lingering on your lips that have stopped smiling.

you looked too damn good tonight. soft, glowing skin, a dress that hugged your curves, hair falling over your shoulders like you were some kind of problem sent to ruin him.

his jaw clenched.

“he was totally harmless,” you continued, sipping your drink. “not that it’s any of your business.”

his business?

katsuki narrowed his eyes, stepping closer, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to keep eye contact.

“the hell it ain’t,” he muttered.

he expected you to shove him, roll your eyes, call him dramatic. instead, you just looked at him like you were finally seeing the way his fists clenched at his sides. the way his breath hitched when you leaned in, just slightly, your voice dropping to something sweeter.

“oh?” you tilted your head, lips curving mischievously. “then what is it to you, katsuki?”

fuck.

there always seemed to be something so dangerous about having his name on your lips. it made his head spin and something hot and restless coil in his stomach.

this was bad.

he exhaled, forcing his gaze away, forcing himself to move before he did something stupid.

like kiss you.

“eijiro’s looking for you,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “get your ass back to him before he starts losing his shit.”

he didn’t wait for your reaction. didn’t stick around to see the way your brows furrowed or how you chewed on your lip like you were holding something back.

he just walked away with his fists clenched yet again.

off limits, my ass.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

all right, fine

let's play ball

that bkdk car conversation is really fucking gay

I made this blog to talk about language because I find it fun and fascinating, so while I'm not thrilled to acknowledge 431 any more than I have to, there's really hilarious shit happening in this scene and the people need to know.

So, the first fucking thing we hear outta Katsuki's mouth is this:

"Jeez, why the hell do I gotta be Deku's private little chauffeur!"

There are a few ways you could translate this. It's an indignant complaint with some rudeness, but comparatively mild for Katsuki. Some people might rephrase this to something more like "why do I gotta drive Deku's ass around" but I'm keeping the original, possessive grammar of デクのアッシー (Deku no asshii) because I think it highlights an important implication.

Sooooo... the word Katsuki uses here アッシー (asshii) is uniquely loaded slang.

Jisho.org

This term originates from Japan's bubble economy era of the late 80s and saw continued use through the 90s. During the economic bubble, the unemployment rate was very low; the related increased presence of women in the workplace led to a cultural perspective that women were gaining social power and financial independence.

From this new social dynamic emerged several terms:

Asshii-kun, Messhii-kun, and Mitsugu-kun.

English Journal, written by University of Kitakyuushuu linguistics professor Anne Crescini

There's also the lesser known Tsunagu-kun, who hooks up electronics for a woman, and Keep-kun, a "backup boyfriend" for when a woman's preferred partner dumps her.

A couple Japanese websites I looked at talked about luxury vehicles gaining in popularity during this time, so Asshii-kun are associated with expensive sports cars, something Katsuki is probably referencing since his car is fancy as fuck!

It's not a well known term anymore, to the point that I saw a number of jpn fans joking about having to look up what it means, haha. Katsuki's dialogue often has interesting, unusual word choices, and of course, reigning queen of up-to-date slang Camie teased him about his delinquent shtick being "out of fashion"!

In that journal article, Crescini explores English terms which roughly convey the same meaning as asshii. I've used google translate here to show you what is written, so let's take a look!

O--oh.

Oh.

fdkjslhsmh;lkshm;

LISTEN I WAS TRYING TO BE FUCKING EMPIRICAL AND SHIT

oh. is that right.

yeah

yeah he is

FYI shiri ni shikarareru of course carries the implication of a man being dominated or bossed around by his wife.

Now, on social media, I saw people (likely in their 40s and 50s) using the term jokingly to describe having to chauffeur someone around for errands. It was mostly men talking about their wives, but there were a couple instances of it being used for friends and family members. It definitely has the energy of "being forced to drive someone around without getting anything in return."

But notice that Katsuki voices this complaint about Izuku specifically, even though Kirishima is also in the car. Like yeah, he yells about Kirishima threatening to scratch his car, but he doesn't fucking call himself Kirishima's asshii!

He could have used a plural "you" pronoun or even pluralized Izuku's name with Deku-tachi to make it "Deku and the people with him," but no, it's "Deku's asshii."

Tell me, Kacchan, when it comes to Izuku, are you hoping to get something in return?

"If somebody'd just said the words 'I wanna surpass Dynamight,' I'd have taken 'em." "You ain't gonna give up teaching?"

date me date me date me fucking do hero work with ME Izuku be a hero with ME

[sigh...]

"Man, you got dumped, huh, Bakugou!!"

Listen. My jaw dropped when I saw Kirishima say this.

Weblio (google translated)

This definition specifies "amorous feelings of being in love" (恋愛感情). I'm not joking when I say I've almost exclusively heard this word used for rejected confessions or couples breaking up.

Japanese Stack Exchange question, "Can フラれて be used in any non-romantic sense?"

The Japanese example sentence describes a business proposal being immediately rejected. The comedy here is inherently tied to the verb being used for romantic rejection, like someone saying "I applied for a promotion, but those fickle hiring managers went and broke my heart."

Even if you aren't literally suggesting romantic love, the association makes it sound over the top and dramatic.

Kirishima is drawing attention to how serious and emotionally invested Katsuki is in making this offer and affectionately teasing him for it. Note that he doesn't just use the simple past tense for this verb (フラれた), which would have sounded direct and not particularly sympathetic. He's using a [verb] + shimau construction (further contracted as slang to "-chimatta") which makes it a "regrettable" outcome, like an "aww man!"

You can add that construction to any verb and it would sound funny/sympathetic, so he could have phrased it differently:

断られちまった ("You got turned down," common word used for all kinds of rejection)

拒められちまった ("You got denied," used for romantic, platonic, and familial relationships)

撥ね付けられちまった ("You got totally rejected," used for when someone coldly or flatly rejects an offer or request)

撃沈しちまった ("You got shot down," uses battleship sinking imagery for failure in daily life, business ventures, romance, hopes and dreams, etc.)

轟沈しちまった ("You got crushed," similar to above, but more severe and instantaneous sinking: instant kill, KO, torpedoed, etc.)

The last few in particular are very dramatic and humorous, so they would work well if Kirishima wanted to joke about the speed or bluntness of Izuku's refusal.

BUT NO.

DUDE USED THE VERB SPECIFICALLY ASSOCIATED WITH ROMANTIC REJECTION, which centers the feelings of heartbreak and disappointment.

He is commiserating with Katsuki for "putting his heart on the line" and getting the cold shoulder, and then he fucking wingmans for Katsuki by spelling it all out to Izuku!!

You can say all you want "it's just lighthearted banter, they're joking!" Sure. You're right, this is a funny scene.

But the joke is that Izuku is a cute girl Katsuki keeps trying (and failing) to woo. That he's taking advantage of Katsuki's feelings for him and stringing him along.

The joke is that Katsuki wants Izuku at his hero agency so bad, the rejection is essentially on the level of getting dumped or having your love confession rejected.

The joke is that Izuku is completely oblivious when it comes to love.

oh interesting doesn't that sound familiar

LITERALLY EVERYBODY KNOWS THIS NERD WOULDN'T NOTICE LOVE IF IT PUNCHED HIM IN THE FACE

'cause Katsuki already tried that one

But I will say, for all Katsuki's complaints, the problem is obviously not a lack of reciprocation. The problem is that Izuku doesn't recognize what Katsuki feels for him. He doesn't get what Katsuki is trying to express to him. He can't answer honestly if he doesn't even understand the question.

The comedic parts of MHA are often wrapped up in important plot points and messages. Sure, it's funny, but why does that mean we're supposed to dismiss it?

Also, Kirishima says this:

"Midoriya sure is dense when it comes to these things."

その辺 (sono hen) is a perfectly ordinary phrase for "that area," "that topic," "in that regard," or "around there," and I wouldn't think anything of it if not for this next bit:

"On that note, what about you guys?"

They are talking about the Class B students who started dating, and Sero uses the same phrase to ask whether Jirou and Kaminari are a couple. Again, this isn't unusual, and if these moments were separated by whole chapters, it would not read as notable in any way. その辺 is a common enough phrase that it's not something you could pin down as a "thematic phrase" or anything like that.

But the repetition struck me. Sero could have said, そういえば (speaking of which, now that you mention it, on that subject), this is a very common sentence starter, but he also could have said things like 付き合ってといえば (speaking of dating) to be more specific.

In this conversation, その辺 is framed as the topic of dating or romance by the preceding remarks. Meanwhile, the "topic" Kirishima suggests Izuku is thickheaded about is only really defined by his own previous comment...

which framed Katsuki's rejection as romantic heartbreak.

anyway

here's the funniest translation of Katsuki's asshii comment I could think of:

"Jeez, why do I gotta be Deku's vehicular bitch boy!"

DOOMED YURI FOR THE WIN 🩸🌸

BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty–and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’”

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

love when a mutual has a new blorbo and they keep putting posts on my dash that are completely incomprehensible. it's like watching a friend win a game show in a language I don't speak. I don't have a fucking clue what's happening to you but it's nice to see you happy

transferring to a new university was nerve-wracking. but finding out on day one that there was no dorm room for you? even worse.

apparently, some glitch in the system left your name off the dormitory list. and now, there wasn’t a single open spot on campus. you wanted to cry, but calling your parents and worrying them was the last thing you wanted to do.

so you spent the entire evening scouring for solutions. a faculty member pointed you to a site where students looking for roommates could post listings, and by some miracle, you found one that seemed decent. the description was short but to the point: “apartment near campus. one room available. quiet. no bullshit.”

it wasn’t exactly the warmest ad, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. you sent a text, got a short reply, and now here you were.

standing outside the apartment door, your arms ached from carrying a heavy box of books and sentimental junk while your suitcase full of clothes sat by your feet. you hesitated for a second before knocking. the moment the door opened, you almost regretted your entire life.

a tall guy with white hair, scarred skin, and heavy-lidded, almost dead-looking eyes stared back at you. his presence was so intimidating that your first instinct was to turn and run back down the hall. but you froze instead, staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights.

“is touya here?” you managed to squeak out, trying your best not to sound completely terrified.

he raised an eyebrow. “speaking. who the hell are you?” his voice was deep and rough, his tone sharp enough to cut.

“i-i’m y/n. your... roommate? i applied here two days ago, we spoke over t—”

“oh. right.” he cut you off, scratching the back of his neck. “didn’t think you’d be here so damn early.”

if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was complaining. but then again, it was 7 a.m. if anything, you must’ve woken him up.

“ya need help with all that?” he asked, gesturing toward the box in your arms.

“uh, yes... please,” you said, relieved and surprised he even offered.

he grabbed the box with one hand like it weighed nothing, and you followed him inside, dragging your suitcase behind you. he set the box on the dining table and kicked the door shut behind him. the place was neat. not spotless, but cleaner than you expected. the furniture was simple, dark-colored, and kind of mismatched, giving the place a weirdly manly vibe.

“bathroom’s down the hall,” touya said lazily, pointing. “kitchen’s over there. don’t leave your shit everywhere. and that’s your room.”

he gestured toward a door at the end of the hall, and you followed him inside. the room was small but tidy. the bed was bare, just a mattress and a pillow, but it was clean. there was a desk and a small closet, too. it doesn’t look like anyone’s ever stayed there.

“anyway,” he muttered, turning to leave. “don’t make too much noise. i don’t like loud people.”

six months later, you’ve realized that living with touya had been an adjustment. at first, there were awkward “hi” and “bye” exchanges, brief encounters in the kitchen as you grabbed a granola bar or nuked leftovers in the microwave. he wasn’t much of a talker, which was fine because you weren’t either. not to him anyway.

but then, slowly, things started to change.

it began with shared dinners. a random night where you’d made too much pasta, shyly offering him some because it felt wrong to eat in front of him while he sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. he’d taken the plate with a gruff “thanks,” but the next night, there was an extra bowl of ramen waiting for you when you got home from class.

from there, it spiraled into routine. dinners became a shared activity, a small tradition where you’d sit across from each other, trading sarcastic comments and the occasional genuine laugh. somewhere in between, touya went from your intimidating, scar-faced roommate to your closest friend. you told him everything now—your classes, your crushes, your petty grievances. he listened, mostly. sometimes, he’d even chime in with advice, though his tone always bordered on teasing.

so when you burst through the door that night, cheeks flushed with excitement, it felt natural to dump the day’s events onto him. touya was already on the couch, two bowls of noodles on the coffee table. his lips quirked into a small smile as he watched you kick off your shoes and drop your bag haphazardly by the door.

“guess what?” you beamed, practically bouncing onto the couch beside him, knees brushing his thigh. “some guy asked me out today!”

his smile faltered, but you didn’t notice. you were too caught up in recounting the story, your voice light and animated as you detailed every little moment.

touya’s grip on his chopsticks tightened. he forced a small chuckle, though it sounded strained.

“can’t believe this actually happened!”

“yeah, well… it’s about time,” he muttered.

but you didn’t hear the sarcasm laced in his words. you were too wrapped up in your own excitement, oblivious to the way his jaw clenched or how his gaze lingered a second too long on your face.

he should’ve been happy for you. he told himself he was. roommates didn’t catch feelings, not ones like this. and yet, every time you smiled at him like that, so sweet and innocent, he felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

the days blurred after that. you went on your first date, then your second, then your third. touya tried to convince himself it was fine. this was fine. he was just your roommate. but you started coming home later and later, your absence stretching into the kind of silence that made his skin crawl.

the noodles he made for you—carefully cooked just the way you liked them—sat untouched on the counter, growing cold as the hours ticked by. he’d find himself sitting on the couch, staring at the door, half-hoping and half-dreading the moment you’d walk in, cheeks flushed with the afterglow of another date.

he hated it.

he hated him. the guy you wouldn’t shut up about, the one who’d taken up too much of your time, your attention. it should be him you’re coming straight home to after school.

touya couldn’t stand it anymore.

he barely needed to put in the effort. you were so trusting, so sweet, and all that innocent yapping gave him everything he needed. your schedule, your habits, even the places you liked to study or hang out. all it took was one stop after his own classes ended to track him down: the library.

the guy was just sitting there, headphones in, engrossed in his laptop.

by the time touya was done talking to him, the guy was pale and nodding, muttering weak promises to do as he was told. touya left the library without a backward glance, his mind already on you.

he got home with enough time to spare, pulling out the instant noodles he knew you loved, the ice cream he bought on the way back. he even set the table, everything arranged just the way you liked it. he’d planned it all perfectly, down to the minute.

and then the door creaked open, and there you were.

he already expected it but it still hurt nonetheless when he saw you—eyes red and swollen, your lips trembling as you tried to hold yourself together. the faintest sniffle escaped, your hands clutching the strap of your bag like it was the only thing anchoring you.

“he broke up with me,” you choked out, voice cracking.

and he almost regret what he’s done. almost.

you didn’t have to say more. he crossed the room in an instant, pulling you into his chest. his hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and faintly of cigarettes, and you buried your face into the fabric, tears soaking through.

“it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing as his hand rubbed slow circles on your back. “he’s an idiot. didn’t deserve you anyway.”

his lips brushed the crown of your head, a gesture so soft, so tender, it made your heart ache in a different way.

you melted into him, his arms the safest place you’d ever known. and as he whispered quiet reassurances, a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

this was how it should be. you, in his arms, leaning on him, trusting him. he’d make sure it stayed that way. you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

dabi and dumbification 🤝 - mdni

he likes how smart you are, actually prefers you a little mean, but nothing, absolutely nothing, turns him on like watching his smart girl go stupid on his dick

actually lives for the moment when he witnesses your mind go slack and give in to him—he’s big on control and trust, so knowing that you’re essentially putting your whole person in his hands is everything to him

“aww, you like being my little cocksleeve, don’t ya sweet thing?” he snarls, teeth against your neck, one hand hot on your hip. “no one’s ever fucked the words right outta that pretty mouth, I can tell”

loves the feeling of overpowering you so completely that he’s overwriting your very senses. you’re babbling out his name, tears pricking your eyes at the press of pleasure/pain swirling in your gut. hell, you can’t even beg him anymore, you’re so far gone—

“fuck, this slutty little pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.” smacks your ass as he bullies his cock into you, smirks at the fucked-out whine that falls from your lips. “bet I can get another one out of you, huh baby? you still know how?” said with that infuriating smirk on his face

edges himself the entire time he’s making you cum

“where do you want it? here?” feral grin on his face while pressing down on your lower stomach, your frantic little nod bobbing up and down. “who am I to deny you?”

probably receives noise complaints from every lov member

Can you do a smau where the mha boys are clingy and needy of attention? 💘

🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

texts with the bnha guys; fem! reader (aged up) characters included: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya iida, eijirou kirishima, denki kaminari.

! they want attention

warnings: sfw, fluff, angst-ish in todorokis part