Anyone Else Thing Bruno Mars And Lady Gaga's New Song Dying With A Smile Is So BKDK Coded??

Sneak peak @ The Bearer of The Sun God !

The Bearer Of The Sun God

Abused! Katsuki x Sunshine! Izuku where Katsuki will do anything to ignore the fact that he is deeply not okay, even if it means pushing away everyone in his life.

Very Moon x Sun vibes

Chapter names might change, this is still a pretty rough idea, but I thought it might be fun to put this out there.

If you've seen my posts about Code: Glycerine, that's what this is currently turning into, though it's changed a lot, but the main scene I wanted to write for that oneshot will be in this chapter fic!

I'll keep updating you guys on the progress!

we love support course deku :)

support course! au grrr

sneak peak on a oneshot i'm working on :)

honestly it's so satisfying, makes me not want to type anymore

local writer reads comments lying on bed like school girl kicking her feet and giggling

code: fish

the final sneak peak at the fics i'm working on rn! Vote on my other post for which fic you want me to focus on!

This is gonna be a longer oneshot and will go into darker themes/have graphic depictions of violence.

Deku!

The shout pierced the dense fog clouding Katsuki’s mind. His head throbbed, the sound ricocheting in his skull like a hammer against steel. He groaned low, the weight of his consciousness dragging him down as if he were swimming in tar.

“Tch. Looks like he’s finally awake,” a low, gravelly voice muttered somewhere to his right.

Where the hell am I? Katsuki’s head lolled slightly to the side, the blindfold pressing uncomfortably against his temple. His body felt leaden, like every muscle had been wrung out and left to rot. His wrists stung against the bite of cold metal cuffs, the ache deep and dull.

Then it hit him. The training camp. The League of Villains. And his own goddamned failure. He’d let himself get taken—kidnapped—like some weak-ass extra.

Fuck.

A white-hot wave of anger flared in his chest, threatening to swallow him whole. How the hell had he been so careless? He clenched his teeth, forcing the self-loathing down before it could spiral. Get your fucking head in the game. You’re Bakugo Katsuki. You don’t lose to these bastards.

The room was silent, save for the faint hum of electricity in the air. The kind of silence that wasn’t really silent—the distant groan of pipes, the shuffle of boots on concrete, the faint drip-drip-drip of water somewhere behind him. Katsuki focused on it, letting the rhythm ground him as his mind clawed its way through the haze.

“Oh no! He’s asleep!” The same voice now pitched unnaturally high, broke the quiet. It grated, like nails on a chalkboard.

What the fuck? Katsuki frowned beneath the blindfold. What the hell is this guy on?

He tried to lift his head, but it felt like someone had poured molten lead into his skull. His limbs were heavy, the ache settling into his bones. The restraints dug into his wrists as he gave an experimental tug. No give. Perfect.

“Dabi, release his restraints,” another voice rasped. It was scratchy like its owner had swallowed gravel, but calm—too calm, like someone who could slit your throat without blinking.

There was a shuffle of movement, boots scuffing against the floor, followed by a lazy, “Huh?”

A beat of silence, then Dabi spoke again. “This guy’s gonna fight, you know.”

Damn straight. Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay still, to listen, to think.

“It’s fine. We need to treat him like an equal since we’re scouting him.”

Scouting? Katsuki’s breath hitched, and the fog in his brain cleared in an instant. The fuck do they mean, scouting me?

“Besides, you can tell if you’ll win or not if you fight in this situation, right, U.A. student?”

Katsuki’s jaw tightened, his pulse roaring in his ears. I always fucking win.

The mantra was sharp, a jagged edge he clung to as a lifeline. But the familiar, acidic voice in the back of his mind—the one that always whispered when things got too quiet—was already stirring. Win at what? You're barely holding it together. You’re not worth more than the trash these guys probably dragged you through.

Focus. Katsuki forced the thought away, burying it deep under a layer of practiced anger. He inhaled, long and slow, forcing his senses to sharpen. There were at least three of them—the gravelly voice, the low one, Dabi, and that screechy idiot who was already on Katsuki’s nerves and would probably be the first to go down.

“Twice, you do it,” Dabi, ordered.

“What, me? No way!” The shrill voice, Twice, protested with the energy of someone who talked just to fill silence.

“Do it,” Dabi didn’t snap, not exactly, but the weight in his voice made it clear he wasn’t in the mood to argue.

Katsuki counted the bodies in the room again. Three. Maybe more. This isn’t shit. Easy, right? He bit the inside of his cheek, the copper tang grounding him in reality.

“Man…” Twice mumbled as he shuffled closer. Katsuki tracked his movements, the sound of his boots on concrete reverberating faintly. If these restraints were anything but metal, he’d already be halfway through this idiot and on to the next. But these bastards weren’t completely brain-dead.

And then, from across the room, a new voice spoke—smooth, unsettlingly polite, and entirely out of place in this grimy pit.

“I apologize for using such forceful methods,” the voice said, measured and composed, each word as deliberate as a knife being drawn. “But please understand, we are not just a mob trying to commit petty crimes. We didn’t kidnap you by accident.”

Katsuki’s head snapped toward the sound, or as much as it could with the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. He barely had time to process the words before Twice was in his space, close enough that Katsuki could hear the rustle of fabric and feel the faintest hint of body heat.

The blindfold ripped away, dragging a few strands of hair with it. Katsuki bit back any wince, keeping his expression flat and defiant. Pain was a distraction. And now? Now he had visuals.

His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and what he saw didn’t improve his mood. Twice stood in front of him, looking like someone who had either wandered out of a BDSM convention or decided to cosplay as a half-assed, monochrome Spider-Man. Black and gray leotard, face fully obscured. No identifying features there.

Katsuki’s gaze darted past him, cataloging the room with a precision born of combat. An emo, a goddamn lizard, some dude with fish-lips, a schoolgirl, a creepy magician wannabe… and that bastard Shigaraki.

His stomach turned. Definitely way more than three villains.

Twice crouched at his feet, his gloved hands fumbling with the restraints. Katsuki’s fingers twitched, the instinct to lash out barely restrained by the knowledge that it’d accomplish nothing in this moment.

What would All Might do?

Across the room, Shigaraki straightened, his silhouette a shadowy smear against the faint glow of a flickering light bulb. The stupid hand mask perched on his face like a trophy of bad decisions.

“Even though our situations differ,” Shigaraki began, his voice scratchy yet calm, his words soaked in barely restrained disdain, “everyone here has been restricted. Suffered. Because of people… rules… and heroes.”

He moved closer, slow and deliberate, each step deliberate like he was daring Katsuki to react. The sound of his boots echoed, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

Good. Now come closer, asshole. I dare you.

Twice knelt at Katsuki’s feet, his gloved hands fumbling with the last restraint. His muttering was an incessant hum, words blending together into nonsense Katsuki didn’t bother to decipher. Every muscle in Katsuki’s body coiled tight, ready to spring the moment he had even an inch of freedom. The final shackle clattered to the floor, the sound bouncing off the cold, damp walls.

“I’m sure you also–”

Twice barely had time to blink before Katsuki’s foot connected with his face. The impact was sharp, a satisfying crack that sent the masked villain sprawling. Katsuki didn’t hesitate, launching himself backward to create space as the chair he’d been strapped to crashed against the wall with a deafening clatter.

The room erupted in chaos.

Twice groaned on the ground, clutching his face, his voice muffled behind the mask. Katsuki’s red eyes darted toward Shigaraki, who flinched, his skeletal fingers twitching with anticipation. 

But Katsuki wasn’t close enough yet, dammit.

Next time.

The high-pitched whining from Twice was already drilling into Katsuki’s skull, fueling his simmering rage. He didn’t even think—he charged. His right fist was cocked back, and with what little sweat he could muster from his battered body, he ignited an explosion that rattled the room.

Twice slammed into the brick wall with a sickening thud, his groan echoing through the haze of smoke and debris. Somewhere behind him, Shigaraki staggered, the force of the blast knocking the hand-mask clean off his face. Katsuki caught the flicker of disbelief in Shigaraki’s dull eyes as they landed on the mask lying pathetically on the floor.

“Shigaraki!” A voice shouted, sharp with alarm. Katsuki couldn’t tell who it was, nor did he care.

He straightened, his stance radiating defiance as he slipped effortlessly into his tough-guy persona. His chest heaved, every muscle in his body thrumming with adrenaline. His trademark scowl deepened, the edges of his lips curling into that feral grin he’d practiced a hundred times over—the one he could never get to look like All Mights.

“I listened to your endless, pointless talking,” he spat, his voice low and venomous. 

He made a show of wiping dust from his cheek, his eyes narrowing into slits as he fixed his glare on the group of villains. “Idiots like you can’t get to the point, so you talk and talk. Basically, you mean ‘We wanna harass people, so please join us,’ right?”

He sneered, letting his words hang in the air as he took a slow step forward, daring them to react.

“Don’t bother.”

The group tensed, their varied expressions ranging from anger to incredulity. Katsuki could feel their hesitation, their uncertainty. It only made his grin widen, even if it didn’t have the same gleaming optimism as All Might’s.

“I want to win like All Might,” he declared, his voice rising with an unshakable conviction that burned in his chest. “No matter what anyone says, that will never fucking change!”

He spat the words with venom, his feral grin twisting into something more vicious. Katsuki stood his ground, daring any one of them to take the first step. His heart pounded, the weight of his declaration settling over the room like a storm.

Bring it.

Deku “my legs moved on their own” Midoriya and Kacchan “can I still catch up to you” Bakugou

obsessed with the idea that katsuki just never thinks about romance at all bc he doesn't deem it important so when he first comes across feelings of wanting to be by izuku's side "for the rest of our lives" he just assumes it to be a twisted form of high-commitment long-term rivalry or something lmao

___

mitsuki: what you said to izuku in the hospital.. was basically a proposal, wasn't it? its rare to see you so sappy.

katsuki: ? proposal for what

mitsuki: ..marriage?

katsuki:

katsuki, only just remembering that the concept of romance and marriage exists:

katsuki, slowly coming to the realization that his feelings towards izuku are not only of rivalry: oh

———

decide for me :)

which fanfic should I focus on most? (all oneshots and all BKDK)

code: glycerine revolves around "bring-your-parents-to-school-day" (~25% completed)

code: pierce revolves around Katsuki getting piercings and being forced to do a photoshoot (~50% completed)

code: fish is about the time Katsuki was kidnapped (longer and will take a while to finish. (needs to be restarted))

Code: Glycerine

Since I put up a poll for the fic i'm gonna focus on, I thought I’d go ahead and share some excerpts from the two fics I haven’t shared anything from yet!

The one for code:fish will come soon! Here's my spin on bring your parents to school day ! (This will focus on darker themes/have graphic depictions of violence)

“Students! Don’t forget that this upcoming Tuesday is Bring-Your-Parents-to-School Day! Attendance is required for all parents unless otherwise excused by me—your principal! Thank you for joining me in upholding this exciting new tradition, one that I’m sure will become a cherished event for years to come. That concludes today’s announcements. And remember—PLUS ULTRA!”

The tinny buzz of the PA system died with a click, leaving the room eerily still. Katsuki clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to let out a very loud, very public groan. Of course, this was Nezu’s latest bright idea—one of his many elaborate ploys to salvage UA’s battered reputation.

“Bring-Your-Parents-to-School-Day.”

God. The words alone made him feel like throwing something. Ever since UA’s reputation took a nosedive, thanks to villains treating students like appetizers at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Nezu had been working overtime to make the school seem invincible again. Rebuilding UA’s prestige wasn’t just his mission—it was an obsession. 

And this latest stunt? 

A PR exercise wrapped up in a neat little bow of so-called "parent-child bonding.” How typical.

The official excuse was painfully wholesome: It’s a chance for parents to see firsthand the amazing young heroes their children are blossoming into!

Gross.

Parents. 

At UA. 

Watching him and his classmates. 

Katsuki could already hear the awkward murmurs, see the invasive camera flashes, feel the judgment of it all—and he hated it with every fiber of his being. More specifically, he hated the thought of her coming.

Mitsuki Bakugo.

He had stumbled across the announcement a week ago, pinned to some dumb school newsletter in the common area. His brain had barely managed to register the words before his vision tunneled, his ears ringing. By the time the red haze cleared, he’d bolted back to his room, slammed the door, and let the freak-out commence.

He cranked the volume on his speakers to near-apocalyptic levels, and drowned the world in thrashing guitars and drumbeats sharp enough to shred his spiraling thoughts. Normally, he liked his music calculated and refined—classical pieces that let him sort through his mess of a brain. 

But anything involving Mitsuki Bakugo required chaos.

The music—mostly heavy rock and screamo, the angriest stuff he could find—did what it could. It wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t be. Memories and dread crawled out of the deepest, ugliest corners of his mind, uninvited. Mitsuki, cutting him down with one snide comment after another. Mitsuki, yelling with her wine glass in hand. Mitsuki, dismissing every shred of effort he’d poured into himself as if it didn’t even matter. But most prevalent was memories of that night. 

It always circled back to Mitsuki.

And that was when Iida had materialized.

Like some sort of overzealous apparition, Iida barged into Katsuki’s rapidly imploding bubble, clearly summoned by the earth-rattling music reverberating through the walls. “Bakugo!” he had shouted, surly gesturing wildly like a poorly done marathon runner impersonation. His muffled voice barely cut through the sonic onslaught, and honestly, Katsuki hadn’t even tried to make sense of it. Not because he didn’t care—well, okay, mostly because he didn’t care—but also because his mind was far too busy spiraling into every worst-case scenario this whole parent day debacle might bring.

When Katsuki ignored him, Iida made the bold (and stupid) decision to enter the room. He didn’t just crack the door open to be annoying—no, the idiot strode in like this was some life-or-death safety drill and not Katsuki’s business. Katsuki whirled to face him, armed and ready to fling a biting remark. But then came the kicker, the absolute icing on the catastrophe cake:

“Bakugo… have you been.. crying?”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut.

Katsuki froze, the flames of indignation choking him in his chest. Crying? Since when the hell did he cry? Never. And why the hell would he be crying now? Sure, his chest might’ve been tight and his breathing a little uneven, but that was just because—because of… well, anything else, okay?

The nerve. The audacity.

Katsuki reverted back to his middle school self.

“You think I cry? Are you fucking stupid? Were you dropped on your fucking head as a baby?” Katsuki barked, cutting through both the blaring music and Iida’s holier-than-thou concern. 

He shoved past the taller boy, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Get the fuck out of my room before I blow your stupid ass glasses off your fucking face!”

And so, Iida had left, likely muttering something self-righteous under his breath about boundaries or proper coping mechanisms. 

Katsuki didn’t care. 

Not about him, not about his classmates, and sure as hell not about this stupid Bring-Your-Parents day.