“The Truth Bomb”

Request by anonymous ♡

“UA’s Sex Ed Class — Featuring: Y/N, No Filter, No Shame, No Peace”

or: Why Aizawa Almost Quit That Day

---

It was a day like any other… until it wasn’t.

Rumors started circling around breakfast.

“They’re giving us the talk today,” Mina whispered, eyes wide.

“You mean the ‘birds and the bees’?” Kaminari smirked.

“I mean the ‘you’re all future pro heroes and the press is gonna catch you doing something dumb so here’s how not to ruin your career with a sex scandal’ talk,” Momo clarified, already emotionally distressed.

At exactly 10 a.m., Class 1-A was herded into one of the support classrooms. Aizawa was already there, rubbing his temples like he aged 10 years overnight.

Midnight stood at the front in heels and a tight suit, holding a laser pointer and a deadpan expression.

Present Mic was there for emotional support. Possibly emotional damage.

Then it began.

---

“Welcome to the UA Pro Hero Sexual Education & Conduct Course,” Midnight said smoothly.

“Also known as: ‘Keep It In Your Pants Until You’re Off the Clock.’”

Several people choked.

“I’M NOT READY,” Kaminari whimpered.

“Bro, we’re literally built for trauma,” Kirishima whispered back.

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS MATH CLASS,” yelled Iida in horror.

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting front row, snacks in hand, eyes glowing with danger.

“Oh this is gonna be good.”

---

Slide 1: “Consent Is Sexy.”

“Absolutely,” Y/N said, nodding like she was on a talk show.

“But also—let’s talk about the real danger here.”

Everyone turned.

Y/N stood up and pointed at the projector.

“THIS! FONT! IS! HORRIBLE!”

“It’s giving... Microsoft Word from 2008. I feel like I’m being visually assaulted.”

“Sit down, Y/N,” Aizawa muttered.

“But my eyes have rights too—”

---

Slide 2: “Quirks & Intimacy”

Midnight began explaining how quirks can impact personal relationships and safety.

“So you’re telling me,” Y/N interrupted, “if someone has a lightning quirk and accidentally zaps you in a sensitive zone, it’s technically a workplace hazard?”

Denki went red.

“I’VE NEVER— I— I MEAN—”

“I’m just saying, bro,” Y/N added, shrugging. “Charge up the wrong spot and someone’s getting CPR.”

“Y/N,” Aizawa growled.

“Oh my god,” whispered Uraraka, curling into herself.

---

Slide 3: “Hero Image & Scandals”

Midnight: “As heroes, your personal lives may become public. So being recorded in compromising situations—”

Y/N raised her hand.

Everyone held their breath.

Midnight sighed. “Yes, Y/N?”

“What happens if a scandal boosts your popularity? Like, what if I pull a full ‘celebrity tape leak’ and end up getting sponsored by a mattress company?”

Aizawa stood up and left the room.

No explanation.

---

Slide 4: “Protection & Responsibility”

They passed around “educational materials.”

Y/N held up a condom and stared at it like it was an alien artifact.

“Do these come in glitter?”

“No,” Midnight said without looking up.

“They should. Missed marketing opportunity. ‘Safety, but make it sparkly.’”

Kaminari wheezed.

“Also this thing looks like a sad balloon. If you blow it up and let it fly, does it scream like a dying rubber chicken?”

She tried.

It did.

---

Slide 5: Questions & Open Discussion

“Absolutely not,” Iida said immediately.

“I have one,” Y/N grinned.

“No,” Todoroki said flatly, before she could speak.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

“You were gonna ask if quirks can be sexually transmitted,” he said without blinking.

“...Okay first of all, that’s a valid question and I don’t like how quickly you guessed it.”

---

AFTERMATH

The class sat in stunned silence as Midnight wrapped things up.

“Any final takeaways?” she asked sweetly.

Y/N raised her hand and said:

“Yeah. I’m never trusting Denki near a hot tub again.”

Denki: “I SAID I DIDN’T MEAN TO ZAP THAT ONE TIME—”

The room devolved into chaos.

Aizawa never came back.

Rumor says he’s still walking the streets of Tokyo, wondering where he went wrong.

"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.

“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!

“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.”

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.

---

"First Flight"

The world found out in the quietest, most intimate way possible.

No live stream.

No statement.

Just a photo.

Posted to Hawks’ official social media, it was timestamped at 2:17 AM.

The image was simple — raw and honest. A newborn baby lay peacefully in a clear hospital bassinet, swaddled in a pale cream blanket, her tiny hand peeking out just enough to show the faintest hint of a feather-soft birthmark on her wrist.

The hospital tag on her ankle read:

Takami, Soraya

DOB: April 8th, 2:03 AM

Perched on the edge of the bassinet was one single crimson feather — unmistakably Hawks’.

No faces. No filters.

Just a baby, a feather, and the beginning of everything.

The caption read:

> “Welcome to the world, little bird.

Born strong, born free.

#SorayaTakami #OurGreatestFlight”

---

Hours Earlier…

You were exhausted, glowing with post-birth adrenaline and relief, curled up in the hospital bed with Soraya asleep in your arms. Keigo stood nearby, looking down at you both like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“She’s perfect,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled sleepily. “You say that like it’s surprising.”

He chuckled. “I knew she'd be beautiful if she looked like you. But I didn’t expect her to already have my pout when she’s hungry.”

You laughed softly, then watched as he slowly walked over to the bassinet. Carefully, reverently, he placed one of his feathers beside her — not for show, not for symbolism.

But to protect.

He stepped back and lifted his phone, hesitating.

“You think… it’s time?” he asked, golden eyes uncertain. “Not for attention. Just… to share her.”

You nodded. “If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

He smiled, the kind of smile only you ever got to see — pure, unguarded, full of love. Then he snapped the photo and sat down beside you, your fingers threading together.

“I never thought I’d care this much about a post,” he whispered.

“Because it’s not a post,” you replied. “It’s a piece of her story.”

---

Moments Later, Online…

Trending Tags:

#SorayaTakami

#BabyBird

#HawksFirstFlight

#HeroDad

Fans were stunned.

The feather. The name. The stillness of the moment. It wasn’t loud or flashy — it was Hawks, but stripped down to his core: a man who had spent his life flying solo, finally grounded by love.

Even fellow heroes responded:

Best Jeanist: “Fashionably wrapped and absolutely precious.”

Fat Gum: “Protect her at all costs. Congrats, featherhead.”

Mt. Lady: “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

---

Back in the Hospital Room…

Keigo turned off his phone and climbed into bed beside you, careful not to wake the baby in your arms.

“Think she knows she already changed the world?”

You looked down at Soraya’s tiny, sleeping face.

“She changed ours first.”

Keigo smiled, resting his forehead to yours. “She’s our best flight yet.”

♡ BNHA Masterlist ♡

Angst- ◇

Comfort-♡

Fluff ♧

More to come♡♡

☆ Bakugo katsuki ☆

♧ Kirishima Ejirou ♧

~ Denki kaminari ~

{ Sero hanta }

♤ Izuku Midoriya ♤

* Aizawa shota *

More to come♡♡

"Coughing Crisis: A Heroic Interruption"

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

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

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

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

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

Then, just as the room hit peak intensity—

"KHHHHHHHHHH–KAHHHHHHHH–HHHKHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Everyone's heads whipped around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was silence. Like, dead silence.

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

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

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

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

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

“IT SHORT-CIRCUITED FIRST!” Bakugo yelled.

---

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

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

But also maybe needed to chew more carefully.

“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.”

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.”

---