Gojo Is Met With A Small Slap To His Face. One That Wakes Him Up From His Stupor, Head Swiveling Around

The afternoon was quiet, with the sun gently filtering through the window. You were sitting on the couch, with Bakugou lying face down on your legs, his head resting against your belly.

—This doesn't mean anything…— he murmured with his eyes closed as you absentmindedly played with his hair.

You smiled without saying anything, letting your fingers slide through his blonde locks. He growled lowly, but didn't move away, on the contrary, he seemed to settle better against you.

—Are you falling asleep? —You asked quietly.

—Shut up... it's just comfortable.

His tone was stubborn, but the slow pace of his breathing gave it away. His hand, which had previously rested at his side, moved to gently hold the fabric of your shirt, as if he was unintentionally seeking to make sure you were still there.

You continued to stroke his hair with a smile, and soon after, you felt his grip relax.

Bakugou had fallen asleep on your lap.

“do you think we’re soulmates?”

“i don’t believe in that shit.” katsuki’s hand tangles in your messy hair sprawled against the pillow he fought you over and ultimately gave to you with a small roll of his eyes.

you huff against his chest, frowning at his words. “you don’t think we were meant to be?”

“hell no.” he grins almost a little mockingly

“why not..?” you mutter, thankful your face is out of his sight because your disappointed expression is really quite laughable.

it’s silent for a long moment, and in the dark room, you assume he fell asleep. you sigh, cautiously readjusting your position to be more comfortable as you shut your eyes, ready to sleep.

that is until his hand drops from your hair onto your arm, rubbing small circles. “i don’t think i’m meant to be with anyone.” he whispers, staring up at his ceiling, still covered in glow in the dark stars from when he was a kid. “i think i just got lucky.”

you keep your eyes closed, half asleep as you respond immediately, “well, i don’t believe in luck. everything happens for a reason, suki.”

“that’s your prerogative, i guess.” he hums, his motions slowing down against your arm, resting there lazily.

“mm,” you wrap your arms around his torso, your cheek smushing against his chest.

another long moment passes, and katsuki’s still staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“you asleep?” he murmurs, careful not to wake you if you are.

“no, baby.”

he nods to himself, leaning down to plant a kiss on your head. “okay. i love you. thank you.” he whispers before resting back on his bed and shutting his eyes.

“thank you for what?” you reply, smiling softly at his affection.

he shrugs lightly before sleep takes over him, his arms engulfed around you without another word.

im like,, in love with hoku, shes bae, 10000000/10 would die to see her happy and cuddling with her loved ones. anyways if its cool for you could we maybe have some hokucanons with the rest of hasl being protective lil shits. or maybe mihawk and shanks??? idk i love them all i want them to give her hugs and beat up anyone mean to her.

Hoku and Hugs:

Luffy - Completely normal. Doesn’t even blink. Capable of falling asleep in his arms. Will often be doing normal tasks while he hangs off her or drags his feet around. Luffy is one of the few people she’ll initiate hugs with first. 

Shanks - Wouldn’t even dare. Shanks wouldn’t even mind and just open his arms with that dumb kissy face like “c’mere dove” but she’d just be hyperventilating several feet away about to faint

Mihawk - She always initiates the hugs but he always hugs back in his own way. Will sometimes be seen riding on his shoulders with her arms wrapped around his face despite their heights, no matter what age.

Ace - Usually has her in some kind of head-lock or the two of them are usually scuffling before it morphs into this giant bear-hug. His are the most suffocating, Hoku often tries to dodge less he fall asleep on top of her. The warmest hugs though.

Sabo - These ones kind of sneak up on her when she leasts expect it. Sabo’s hugs are the kind where he smiles, all quaint and polite and it might be at an extremely inconvenient time but Hoku thinks he just likes to watch her squirm with the debate of turning down his polite, kind little hug and feeling bad about it so she ends up walking into his arms.

Bonus:

Chopper - Hoku can often be found toting Chopper around, tucking under her arm like baggage she’s just carting with her. Chopper is her immediate traveling-companion on the colder islands otherwise Hoku complains non-stop and gets on everyone’s nerves.

Drunken Sketches

Summary: The Straw Hat Crew reacts to a creative outburst y/n had as they were drunk. (Jinbe is part of the Straw Hat Crew) y/n Pronouns: they/them

cw: mentioning of alcohol, hungover, hungover reader -------------

It was a peaceful morning on the Thousand Sunny. Sanji was in the kitchen preparing a hungover breakfast for the Crew, while Jinbe relaxed on the deck, watching the sky and calm sea navigating the ship to the next island. Some of the Straw Hat Crew looked more tired or hungover than other, after their big party last night. Zoro seemed like nothing happened and as he didn’t drink two barrels of sake alone. Nami and Ussop on the other hand looked like they were the ones drinking too much, even tho they had two beer top last night. “Breakfast!” Luffy was the ray of sunshine as usual and was about to reach for the breakfast as Sanji stopped him.” “Hey! You know, not to eat until everyone is there, Luffy.” Only now, Luffy noticed that y/n was missing at the table. He asked Robin if she had seen them, but as she looked up from the newspaper, Robin shook her head, “No, the last time I saw them was before I went to bed. They were looking for paper.” “For paper? I saw them in front of sick bay..” Nami said, massaging her temple, looking up tired and worried.

With that as a clue, Luffy jumped up and went to sick bay looking for y/n. The Captain was hungry, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. “y/n!! Food!” As Luffy approached the door, he could hear y/n snoring loudly inside. When he opened the door, Luffy was surprised to find his friend lying on the floor surrounded by sheets of paper and colored pencils. Luffys laugh brought everyone up and rushed to investigate why their Captain was laughing so loud. When they joint Luffy, they saw a snoring y/n curled up, eyes closed, and hand over their eyes and ears to shut out the laugh and the sun. "What the hell happened here?" Zoro muttered. Nami and Chopper picked up some of the sheets of paper from the floor that surrounded y/n, hoping not one of their important Maps or documents were scattered there. As they looked through the pages, they saw that everything was ok, and realized that the drawings on them were actually quite good.

"These are amazing!" Chopper exclaimed, holding up a drawing of himself that y/n had done, complete with little antlers and a red nose.

"Yeah, look at this one of me!" Robin said, holding up a sketch of herself sitting in her chair, surrounded by books, she had picked up.

Usopp and Franky were particularly impressed by their portraits, which showed them posing dramatically with their respective weapons. "I always knew I looked cool, but I never thought someone could capture my essence like this," Franky said with a grin.

As they admired the drawings, Jinbe noticed something funny about the way they were arranged. "They're in alphabetical order," he pointed out. "Look, there's Brook, then Chopper, then Franky..." “yohohoho, how fantastic!” 

Everyone laughed at the realization that even in their drunken state, y/n had taken the time to arrange their drawings with care. They felt a warm sense of affection for their friend, even though they were too hungover to hear it.

"Let's not wake them up," Nami said, picking up one of the drawings and cradling it carefully. "We can put these in the gallery and surprise them, when they wake up."

The rest of the crew agreed, and they carefully gathered the pages of the gallery-worthy artwork. As they left the room, Chopper took one last look at y/n, who was still snoring contentedly on the floor.

"I'm glad they are part of our crew," the little reindeer said, before putting a glass of water and some medicine against the hungover near them.

As they settled back to the breakfast table, admiring each other's portraits, the Straw Hat Crew knew that they had another memorable moment to add to their collection of adventures. And even though y/n couldn't remember anything about their artistic endeavors the night before, they knew that their talent and creativity would be remembered forever.

umemiya hajime who cares even in the smallest of ways and always keeps an eye on.

i'd like to think, be it bofurin's early days of reclaiming the town's trust or current times, whenevr something big goes, and everyone's cheering in unision, you'd stand by the corner or by a shop and watch- with a smile on your face and happy for everyone too but too shy, maybe too lost in your head to join everyone else.

maybe something grows within time, as you watch over and over again just what a big and warm heart umemiya carries on his sleeve, always on the lookout for everyone- making you yearn for his gaze just a little too.

and he'd notice, as he always does, and because he always wishes for the best for his beloved town and its people. so he makes sure to always linger by your spot- if he catches on quickly that you don't want to be a part of the big crowd physically, not yet, he'll respect that and make sure to still stop by and strike conversation when it's all quitened down. make a mental note when you mention your favorite fruit in passing, making sure to grow some and harvest them for you, when the sweet baker down the street gives him yet another bag of baked delicacies, he will always save your favorite warm and quickly bring it to you. noticing the signs of stress on your person and making it a habit to keep your hand in his when he has noticed you biting your nails or playing with your hair too much again.

it all happens down the line, out of your control, before you can even realize. yet are you to blame yourself when umemiya is /just like that/, so endaring, caring, kind and thoughtful, making it impossible to not fall for him? now you have to live with the knowledge of this too, keep it cool whenever he's talking with you- because the chances of a man returning your feelings feels so out of reach that you never dare approach the topic, happy with the friendship the two of you have built.

but umemiya is not a patient guy-- and when he falls, he falls hard. there is no time for yearning, aching or waiting around. before you can even register what's going on, his expression worrying you, until he blurts out a bunch of things at once, leaving you short circuited, and all you can catch are "wanting to see you smile and light up the world for the rest of my life". arms wrapped tight around your frame and burying his face to you, he doesn't even allow you to breathe, let alone think.

by the time he has come down from his high, and you from the shock of it all, you nod at his big pleading eyes, mustering up a quiet "yes" and in his words; you've just made him the happiest man alive.

calvins or nothing?

[nsfw-ish] ; bakugou katsuki x reader — domestic fluff, slight horniness, bakugou katsuki being a cute little bean (but also a sexy phenomenon), slight humor <3

♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖📸.𖥔 ݁ ˖♡

notes: this is inspired by the bad bunny x calvin klein ad that came out a few weeks ago. i’m ovulating and had this in my drafts. enjoy 😃

Your grumpy Pro Hero boyfriend—the one who hates cameras, hates media circuits, hates anything remotely resembling a brand deal—somehow got talked into doing an ad. That, in itself, is already enough of a shocker. The man rolls his eyes at the mere mention of Instagram. His idea of PR is grunting his way through one-word answers at press conferences.

So, yeah. When Katsuki says he’s doing a shoot, you're caught off guard.

The announcement isn’t even some grand confession—it’s a casual mumble, like he’s commenting on the weather. He says it while washing the dishes, fingers soapy, sleeves of his tee pushed up to his elbows, the evening news humming in the background. You're sitting on the counter, half-listening to the TV, half-watching the muscles in his back flex through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Gonna do a shoot in a couple days,” he mutters like it’s nothing. Like the sky’s blue. Like he’s not about to detonate your entire sense of reality.

You pause mid-sip of your water. “A shoot?” you echo, blinking at him.

He doesn’t even look up. “Yeah.”

You slide off the counter and walk toward him, disbelief coloring your voice. “Wait, seriously? You? Doing a shoot? Like… willingly?”

He finally cuts you a glance, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck would I joke for?”

“I don’t know! Because you hate this stuff?” You raise a brow. “Last week you growled at a guy just for taking a picture of you at the market.”

He scoffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “Agent wouldn’t shut up about it. Said it’s a good deal. Said it’d make my numbers spike.” He grinds his teeth. “S’bullshit.”

You grin, stepping even closer, your hands brushing against the hem of his shirt. “So what is it, huh? Sportswear? A cologne campaign? Let me guess, something with black-and-white aesthetics, all ‘I’m brooding and mysterious and I could kill you but also model for Givenchy.’”

His glare sharpens. “I ain't tellin’ you,” he mutters, and then smears a soapy hand across your face.

You yelp, eyes widening in shock before laughing, pushing him back with a dish towel, and just like that, the kitchen descends into a sudsy, chaotic mess—water splashing, laughter echoing, and your annoyed, grumbly boyfriend cracking the faintest smile as you attack him with bubbles.

You forget about it after that.

He goes to the shoot a few days later, grumbles about how stupid it was, comes home smelling faintly of sweat and photo studio, and promptly takes a nap on the couch with his face buried in your thigh.

End of story—or so you think.

Until the ad airs.

And the entire world explodes.

You’re not even the first person to see it. You wake up to six missed calls from Kaminari, seventeen texts in a group chat with Amanai and Hanari, and three DMs from stylists you’ve only ever worked with once, all saying something along the lines of:

IS THAT BAKUGOU???
Please tell me that’s YOUR man.
why didn’t you warn me???

You groggily pull up the video link with one eye open, barely processing the thumbnail—just muted greys and harsh lighting—and then hit play.

And then the world stops.

The screen fades in, and the first thing you see is concrete—cold and industrial, metal beams and stark shadows. The lighting is sharp and stylized, the kind of aesthetic that screams high-end minimalism, and then—

There he is.

Katsuki.

In nothing but tight black briefs, leaning against a concrete wall, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his thigh. His scars catch the light. His tan skin looks like it's been kissed by some god. His abs—hard and defined, with that perfect cut down his sides—flex slightly as he breathes. There’s sweat glistening faintly on his collarbone.

And his expression?

That look. The one he gives when he’s about to fight someone and knows he’s already won. That heavy-lidded, lazy gaze that screams dominance and confidence. His jaw is tight. His mouth is parted just slightly, teeth catching on the fabric of his own tank top as he lifts it with one hand, revealing the full line of his torso—slow and unbothered, like this means nothing to him.

You gasp. You physically clutch your phone like it might explode in your hands.

Is this a fucking fever dream?

The ad keeps going. Transitions shift—now he’s outside, in some open-air gym setup, hanging from a pull-up bar in white briefs, his body tense and glistening, thighs flexing as he hooks his legs around the metal, inverted and still steady. The camera pans slowly, sinfully, down the line of his waist, his back muscles moving with effortless control.

You are floored.

And then—then—he’s sprawled in a plush lounge chair, still in briefs, arms behind his head, legs spread in that arrogant, casual way that only he could pull off. He’s completely relaxed, like he doesn’t know the entire planet is watching this ad and forgetting how to breathe.

You drop your phone on the bed and bury your face in your hands.

“What the fuck,” you groan into your palms. Your heart is pounding. Your thighs press together on instinct.

Katsuki, your grumpy, camera-hating, blunt-as-hell boyfriend… just dropped the hottest underwear ad of the year. And you had no idea what he was shooting until now.

You scramble to your feet, pacing your bedroom, mouth still open, heart pounding in your chest like war drums.

Your phone still lies face down on the bed, but you’re pacing like the floor might cave in. Your heart is slamming against your ribs, your body thrumming with something between disbelief and desperate, carnal desire. There’s a burn low in your stomach. A buzzing heat behind your eyes.

Because the ad isn’t done. It gets worse—so much worse.

The music shifts, something darker now, heavier—bass rolling like thunder. And then the screen cuts to him again. Katsuki. In jeans this time.

Low-rise. Washed-out. Loose around the thighs but slung criminally low on his hips.

And those goddamn white briefs are peeking out above the waistband like it was staged in a dream. His hand glides lazily over his stomach, fingers tracing the defined V of his hips, brushing right past the thick trail of hair under his navel. He stops there—lingers there—just barely grazing the hem of the briefs before his thumb tucks in, teasing the edge. His gaze flicks to the camera.

And he smirks.

Not his usual cocky grin, no. This one’s lazy. Lopsided. Something slow and dangerous that makes your knees buckle. Like he knows what he’s doing. Like he planned this moment for you and you alone.

You gasp. You clutch your chest. "Oh my God."

And then—as if that wasn’t enough—the music picks up and the scenes start layering: cuts of him against the concrete, muscles flexing under the strain of his pose; transitions to the gym, his thighs clenching, his expression loose with exertion; cuts to that plush chair, where he’s lounging like sin incarnate, and finally, back to the jeans, with his hand still teasing that waistband.

It’s not an ad anymore. It’s a weapon. A visual threat. A public sex dream.

You stand there, completely dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth parted, blinking like you’ve been smacked upside the head with a wet towel.

And the comments?

Oh. The comments.

@takxmi291_: raw. next question.
@abersiw.3: Good lord what a great day to be alive.
@BIGPAPA.EJI: FLASH US ‼️‼️‼️
@numbber1.lemilionnn: giggling at 3am
@angelzkiss: GOOD GOD IM GIDJDJFNNFHDNDNDJDNCN🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦
@hyurhio008: YEP IM GETTING HIM PREGNANT
@Cello_Zumazz: damn now my screen's all sticky :/
@bpxrndeku: I FEEL LIKE A MAN IN THE 1800S SEEING AN ANKLE FOR THE FIRST TIME.
@lennysqqie: don’t be scared. take em off.
@dynazaddy98: i wanna GAGGGG on that huge COCK—
@stareandfanfic: look at em TITS AWOOGAAAA

You can’t even think. You’re vibrating. Your brain is gone. You’re standing there, still in pajamas, while your very private, very grouchy, very hot boyfriend just broke the Internet in his underwear.

You can’t let this slide.

So you bide your time. You wait until he’s home from patrol—freshly showered, hair damp and messy, wearing his black hoodie and sweatpants that clings to him a little too well. He’s sitting at the kitchen table now, chopsticks in one hand, steam rising from the shabu shabu you made. His brow is furrowed as he eats, and he's grumbling about how some new sidekick forgot to file a report properly.

You sit across from him with your phone in hand, not saying anything.

And then, casually, you clear your throat and say in a bright voice:

“Explosively warm, and snug. Dynamight wears the new Iconic Cotton Stretch. Now in stores.”

Katsuki freezes mid-bite.

His chopsticks pause, a slice of beef and mushroom still dangling, and you see it happen—the moment it registers. His shoulders stiffen. His jaw tightens. And then slowly, as if the food can save him, he stuffs it into his mouth.

You try not to laugh. You fail.

“What the hell, Katsuki?” you grin, voice breathless with amusement. “Why didn’t you tell me?! That ad launched three hours ago and I’ve seen your dick print more times than I’ve seen my own reflection today.”

He grunts. Doesn’t look at you.

“Honey, you looked insanely good. Like… I’m not even sure it was legal.” You lean forward over the table, voice dropping slightly. “You were so hot. And that grin?” You tap your phone. “That was cute, baby.”

His ears go bright red. A slow, creeping crimson that crawls up his neck to his cheeks.

He finally glances at you, scowling faintly. “S’just a stupid ad. Ain’t that important.”

“Oh, it’s important to me,” you murmur with a knowing smirk.

He huffs and looks away again, stuffing another bite in his mouth. But his jaw’s twitching. He’s so clearly flustered, you can barely take it. A tiny, pleased smile tugs at his lips even though he’s fighting it with everything he has.

And you realize—this is why he didn’t tell you. Because deep down, Katsuki knew. He knew how hot he looked, how big the reaction would be, how much people would thirst over it.

But more than anything, he knew you would look at him like this—like he hung the goddamn moon. And he wouldn’t know what to do with that.

“Sh’ddup,” he mutters under his breath, cheeks now fully flushed.

You grin like a wolf, biting your lip as you lean over the table, eyes glinting.

“No. I’m not gonna shut up. In fact, I’m gonna print out a poster. Hang it in the hallway. Right across from the bathroom.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growls—but it’s soft. There’s no heat behind it. Just embarrassment and affection and that little smirk he only wears when he’s happy in spite of himself.

And you?

You’re head over heels in love with this absolute menace of a man. Horny and obsessed and ready to make him flustered for the rest of the night.

Later, the apartment is warm, and quiet, the soft hum of the city alive behind the windows—but in here, it’s just you and him.

The scent of the shabu shabu still lingers faintly in the air, and the clinking of dishes is rhythmic, almost soothing. Katsuki stands at the sink, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms slick and glistening. His hands are buried in a sink full of suds, scrubbing out the plates he insisted on washing since you cooked.

You’re perched on the counter next to him, legs swinging slightly, phone in hand, face lit up with mischief and fondness. The grin on your face is damn near criminal. You can’t help it—you’ve been giggling all night. Ever since the ad dropped, you’ve been glued to the internet, reading every unhinged, thirsty, downright feral comment about your boyfriend. And oh, they are so good.

Katsuki grumbles under his breath every time you so much as snort at your screen, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Not really. Because he secretly loves the sound of your laugh—especially when it’s because of him, even if it makes him wanna throw himself into the damn sink.

You scroll through your phone, eyes twinkling, then grin wider. “Should I read you the comments next?”

He groans. “No.”

But you’re already doing it. “@yoqnoak24 says: i’m wet, ready, and stretched out to g—”

Before you can finish, a wet, soapy hand slaps gently but firmly against your face.

“Katsuki!” you squeal, laughing in full as the bubbles smear across your cheek and jaw, eyes crinkling with delight.

“Fuckin’ brat,” he growls through a grin of his own, already tugging you off the counter with one hand on your waist.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders instinctively as he leans in, pressing a messy, grinning kiss against your lips. It’s hot, breathless, teeth clicking together for a second before he pulls back just enough to murmur against your mouth, “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

You’re smiling so wide you can barely kiss him back properly, giggling like a teenager. “Probably fuck me stupid, since you’ve already got half the world begging for it.”

“Jesus fuck,” he groans, burying his face in your neck. You can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the way his ears are burning where they brush your jaw. But he’s smiling. You can feel that too. It’s hidden, buried in the press of his mouth against your collarbone, but it’s there. That secret softness only you get.

“You’re the worst,” he mumbles.

“No,” you say, tugging gently at his hair as you press a kiss behind his ear. “I’m the best. I’m your number one fan.”

“Damn right you are.”

You laugh again, and he chuckles too—quiet, low, warm in your chest.

This. This is your life with him. This ridiculous, heart-melting mix of domesticity and chaos. You and him in your kitchen, covered in soap and laughter, still buzzing with the aftershocks of an ad he didn’t even want to do. You and him trading kisses like secrets, teasing and tugging, wrapped around each other like you’ve always belonged this way.

God, you love this man. More than anything.

And the best part?

He loves you back just as hard.

Umemiya the type of guy to let you lash the fuck out, call him names, throw a swing (that he dodges obvy), scream, shout and cry and then will hit you with the "Are you finished? Good. Now c'mere." and then will fucking bear hug your ass until you stop wriggling and break down in his arms apologizing.

And let me tell you I fucking hate that this has me on my knees wailing right now.

ae i just imagined gojo leaning down to hear us talk and giggled

and you get a whiff of his subtle cologne, then what? but nonnie when he goes “hmm say that again?” with a soft voice as he places his face so close to yours, interested in what you have to say. how about when his hand is placed on the small of your back, and he brings you closer by instinct? yes i think it’s hot that he always accommodates to you and that satoru is just that big.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, lounging on the couch with a small, fond smile tugging at his lips as he watches you waddle around, the little furrow between your brows making you look both adorable and determined.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, calling out to you as you head toward the kitchen, urging you to sit down and take it easy, wanting you to relax and let him handle things.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, chuckling softly as you stubbornly shake your head, firmly insisting that you need to get the chores done despite his protests.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, his heart swelling as he watches you walk over to the couch, duster in one hand, your other hand resting gently on your back for support, clearly determined to keep going.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, a grin spreading across his face as he sees you struggle to bend down to pick up a stray piece of clothing from the floor, your pregnant belly making simple tasks a little harder.

Husband! Bakugou Katsuki, beginning to rise from the couch, ready to help, only for you to hold up your hand firmly, pointing him back down, not allowing him to lift a finger.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, feeling nothing but pride as he watches your determination and stubbornness lead you through your cleaning, admiring your strength and resolve.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, scooting closer to you as you finally settle onto the couch next to him, folding clothes with quiet focus, his gaze never leaving you.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, his mind already racing with thoughts of having another child with you once your first is born, the image of you full and warm with his child making his heart flutter and his thoughts run wild.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, massaging your shoulders as you hum contentedly, folding the last of the clothes, the soft warmth of your body and the peace in the moment making his heart ache with love.

Husband!Bakugou Katsuki, an absolute pervert when it comes to the sight of his pregnant wife, you—completely and utterly obsessed with every curve and detail of your beautiful, expecting body.

uggghhh i jst loovvve husband Katsuki and his pregnant wife 🥲

Please please pleaseee more dad shoto x mom reader its js too fluffy and cute 😭🙏

NOTE. so much fluff, my heart can’t take it anymore <3

Todoroki never thought that there would be a point in his life where he spent his weekends lying on the living room floor, holding a full conversation with his eight-month-old son as if the tiny human could actually understand every word. And yet, here he was—stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling while his son, Shuu, rested against his chest, happily kicking his little legs as they engaged in what Todoroki was beginning to consider their usual weekend routine.

You had gone out to get groceries, leaving them alone for a while, and he had quickly discovered that Shuu was happiest when he was either being held or allowed to clamber all over his father like a small, determined climber.

Currently, said baby was on his stomach, his tiny hands gripping at Todoroki’s shirt as he made an admirable attempt to push himself up with all the strength his chubby little arms could muster. The doctor had mentioned tummy time was good for his development, but to Shuu, it was a grand adventure—maybe even his greatest enemy.

His son looked so much like him that it sometimes took Todoroki by surprise.

His wispy hair was still soft and undecided in color, but those round, curious eyes were a perfect mirror of yours. Every so often, when Shuu blinked up at him with an expression of innocent curiosity, it hit Todoroki that this was his child.

His son.

The little person that he and you had brought into the world. The realization never failed to strike him in quiet moments like this, when he had nothing to do but bask in the weight of it.

“You wouldn’t believe the week I had, Shuu,” Shouto murmured, lifting a hand to gently rub slow, soothing circles on his son’s tiny back.

Shuu let out an excited coo in response, one of his chubby hands grasping at the fabric of Todoroki’s shirt. His fingers barely curled around the material, but he held on determinedly.

“Midoriya somehow managed to schedule us for a meeting at seven in the morning. Seven, Shuu. On a Friday. You know what that means?”

Shuu let out a happy shriek, completely unaware of the horror of early morning meetings. Todoroki sighed dramatically. “Exactly. It means I had to wake up even earlier to get dressed, drink coffee, and mentally prepare for Midoriya’s enthusiasm before the sun was even fully up.” He paused, frowning slightly. “And then he had the audacity to say it was a ‘great team-building experience.’”

His son slapped a tiny hand against his chest, his bright eyes gleaming as he babbled incoherently. Todoroki nodded as if he understood.

“Mhm, I know. I should’ve expected it. But at least your uncle Bakugou suffered with me.”

His son cooed in response, the sound soft and bubbly, like he was adding his own input.

Todoroki nodded solemnly. “Yes, exactly. You understand.”

The baby let out another happy noise before suddenly pressing his face against his father’s chest, his tiny mouth leaving a damp spot on the fabric. Todoroki exhaled through his nose. “And now you’re drooling all over me. Again.” He chuckled in amusement, bringing a small bib up to carefully wipe away the small trail of drool forming on his son’s chin.

“Wah uhm!”

Todoroki sighed, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. But there was an odd sense of contentment settling over him as he let his hand rest on his son’s back, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. It was moments like this that made everything else—the long work hours, the exhaustion, the constant balancing act of being both a hero and a father—completely worth it.

“You are very talkative today,” he observed, shifting slightly so Shuu was better balanced on his chest. His son blinked down at him, completely unbothered, before letting out another high-pitched babble. “Oh? That’s your input? You think I should get revenge on Midoriya?” Todoroki’s lips twitched. “That’s devious. Just like your mother.”

At the mention of you, Shuu’s little face brightened even more, and he kicked his legs with excitement, making Todoroki smile. “You miss Mama already?” He kissed the top of his son’s head, inhaling the soft baby scent that lingered in his hair. “She’ll be back soon. She’ll probably scold me if I let you get too drooly before she comes home.”

As if on cue, Shuu blew a big, wet raspberry against Todoroki’s shirt, successfully soaking the fabric. Todoroki sighed again. “Well, I walked right into that one.”

He shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at his son’s tiny features. “You’re going to grow up into a strong, smart boy, Shuu,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “And I’ll always be here. Even when you start talking back to me instead of babbling nonsense.”

Shuu responded by planting both hands on his father’s chest and pushing up, his tiny arms trembling with the effort. He held himself up for a moment before collapsing back down with a happy squeal, his round cheeks pressing against Todoroki’s shirt.

Todoroki smiled, gently rubbing his son’s back again.

The front door opened a moment later, and your voice called out, “I’m home!”

Shuu perked up instantly, letting out a delighted squeal as he tried to push himself up again. If anything, Todoroki thinks that Shuu would’ve crashed into your legs by now if he were able to walk. And he just lifted him with ease, sitting up just as you walked into the living room with a grocery bag in each hand. You took one look at them—Todoroki’s shirt covered in drool, Shuu’s delighted expression—and shook your head fondly.

“Did you two have fun?” you asked, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter before making your way over.

“I think he’s plotting something,” Todoroki said seriously. “He suggested I take revenge on Midoriya.”

You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth in exaggerated shock. “Shuuchan! Are you already learning how to scheme?”

Your son shrieked in response, his chubby arms reaching for you, his mother. You laughed, scooping him up and peppering his face with kisses. Todoroki watched you, his heart full.

Yes, he never thought he’d be here—spending his weekends talking to an eight-month-old like he was a full-grown adult.

But he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

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