"Operation: Loopy"

"Needles & Nonsense"

Summary: Reader’s stubbornness kicks back in, and the adults are not having it

The hospital room was too white.

The walls. The sheets. The buzzing light. It all made your skin crawl. Even worse was the IV line in your arm—a clear tube taped down to your skin like some parasite, slowly dripping fluids into your veins like you were a broken plant.

You glared at it like it had personally insulted you.

You had been stable for two days. That’s what they said. “Stable,” whatever that meant. You still felt like garbage. You couldn’t walk more than five feet without your knees giving out. But that was beside the point.

The point was the IV.

Disgusting. Cold. Invasive. You hated how it felt inside your arm, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Every few hours a nurse would come by and adjust the bag, and you had to just sit there like a helpless child. It made your skin crawl. You weren’t even scared of needles, not really—it was the being plugged in part that made your chest tight.

And honestly?

You were done.

You looked toward the door. No nurses. No heroes. The hallway was quiet. Probably lunchtime.

You glanced down at your arm.

“This is a terrible idea,” you muttered under your breath.

Then you yanked the IV out.

It came free with a squelch and a tiny spurt of blood, and you slapped your hand over it with a hiss. “Ow, ow, ow—grossgrossgross—”

A few drops of saline hit the sheets as the IV line swung freely like a limp vine. You shoved it aside like it was cursed, pressing a tissue to your bleeding arm.

You felt instantly better.

But the second you relaxed, the door opened.

“…What the hell are you doing?” Aizawa’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

You flinched.

“I was—uh,” you started, hiding the bloody tissue behind your back. “Nothing?”

He strode over in three long steps, eyes scanning the scene. The IV was dangling. The bandage was slipping. Your arm was still dripping faintly.

“You pulled it out?!” he barked.

You winced. “It felt gross, okay?! I’m not a science experiment—!”

“You’re a hospital patient,” Aizawa snapped, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it to your arm. “This is here to keep you alive. You don’t get to decide to sabotage your care because it’s ‘gross.’”

“I didn’t sabotage anything!” you protested. “I’m just—ugh—it’s my body, let me have some say!”

“You lost that say when you let your body fall apart,” he shot back.

You went quiet.

Aizawa immediately regretted his words. His eyes softened, and his voice dropped. “…I didn’t mean it like that.”

But the silence between you stretched like a cracked window.

“I just…” you said after a while, voice small. “It made me feel like I wasn’t even in control anymore. Like everyone’s poking me and watching me and I’m not even—me anymore.”

Aizawa let out a slow breath. “Okay. Okay. I get it.”

You blinked. “You do?”

“I do,” he nodded. “But that doesn’t change the fact that this is still serious. You need those fluids.”

“…What if I drink more instead?” you offered weakly. “Like, a million electrolytes. And juice. And water. I’ll turn into a human Capri Sun.”

Aizawa gave you the driest look known to man.

“I’m being reasonable,” you added.

“You ripped a needle out of your arm.”

“...Emotionally reasonable, then.”

Before he could reply, the door burst open.

Midnight stormed in, Recovery Girl behind her.

“What happened? The monitor started freaking out—oh my god, what did you do?!” Midnight gasped.

“She pulled out her IV,” Aizawa said, tone flat.

Recovery Girl looked like she might combust on the spot. “You what?!”

“It felt gross!” you shouted, holding your arm like a wounded kitten.

Midnight clutched her head. “You’ve been in this hospital for two days and already started acting like an escaped gremlin.”

You huffed. “I wasn’t escaping. I was... asserting autonomy.”

Aizawa held up the bloody cloth. “With blood loss.”

Recovery Girl marched over and sat you up straighter with surprising strength. “If you do that again, I will have someone sit on you. Understood?”

“...Kinky,” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mmhm.”

Midnight crossed her arms. “Do you hate the needle part or the ‘hooked up to something’ part?”

“…Both,” you admitted. “But mostly the hooked up part. It’s like I’m a USB stick.”

Recovery Girl pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine. We’ll switch you to oral hydration and supplements if your blood pressure stabilizes over the next 12 hours. One more dip and you’re getting a double IV.”

You shivered. “Fine. Deal. Oral hydration or death.”

Midnight raised an eyebrow. “Dramatic much?”

“You’re literally talking to someone who steam-bleeds and passed out running down a hallway,” you said, deadpan. “Dramatic is my brand.”

Aizawa exhaled. “I’m too tired for this.”

“I’m tired, you’re just tired of me,” you teased.

He didn’t even crack a smile.

Midnight walked over and ruffled your hair. “Let’s just try to keep the holes in your arm where they belong, yeah?”

You nodded. “No promises.”

“Reader.”

“Okay, okay—I’ll be good. Kind of. Mostly. I’ll aim for like... 70%.”

Midnight looked at Aizawa. “That’s the best we’re gonna get.”

Aizawa just rubbed his temples again.

I feel like ur writing is giving ai.. idk tho

Hey there!

I'm so sorry that you think this way but my stories are 100% written by me, I just have alot of drafts that I need to get rid of, that's why I post so many times a day, and I used to use chatgpt alot at school but I don't use it anymore, but I guess I picked something up from it.

Also this comment is 100% unnecessary

Really sorry you feel that way! But I write 100% all of my stories

“Red Riot, Meet Your Sidekick”

The late evening air was cool, but sweat beaded on your forehead as another sharp contraction hit, making you grip the passenger seat armrest with a strangled cry.

“Almost there, babe!” Kirishima said, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he sped toward the hospital. “Just keep breathing! Like we practiced, right?”

You glared at him through gritted teeth. “I am breathing, Eijirou—do you want to try doing it while your insides are trying to rip you in half?”

He winced. “Right. Sorry. Focus mode. Hero mode. Got it.”

By the time the car skidded into the emergency parking, you were already moaning through another wave. Kirishima darted out, yelling for help, and within seconds, hospital staff had you in a wheelchair and racing down the hallway.

Once you were in the delivery room, everything felt like a blur. The fluorescent lights were too bright, the hospital gown too cold, and the contractions—insanely close together.

“I feel pressure,” you gasped, clutching Kirishima’s hand. “Like...a lot of pressure.”

He blinked. “Already? That was, what, fifteen minutes since the last check?”

“I’m serious. Something’s happening. This kid isn’t waiting.”

A nurse leaned in, lifting the blanket. Her eyes widened, and she barked over her shoulder, “We need a doctor in here, now. She's crowning!”

“Wait, what?!” Kirishima looked like he’d just taken a hit to the chest. “She’s—already?!”

The nurse met your eyes. “You’re doing great, honey, but this baby’s coming fast. Can you try pushing?”

“Are you kidding?” you panted. “I feel like my soul is about to exit my body.”

“You’ve got this, babe!” Kirishima said, brushing your hair back. “You’ve done harder things. You’re the strongest person I know.”

You barely heard him. Your body was already taking over, legs trembling as another contraction surged through you. You pushed with a cry, and suddenly the room filled with urgent voices, beeping machines, and the grounding grip of your husband’s hand.

“Again!” the nurse urged. “One more time!”

With a scream and a flood of emotion, you pushed—then just like that, it was over.

A piercing cry filled the room.

Your chest heaved, eyes wide with shock and awe. A tiny, wet, pink baby was lifted into the air.

“It’s a boy!” someone called.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped as the nurse placed the baby gently on your chest. He was flushed red, squirming, and absolutely perfect.

Kirishima let out a laugh that was half-sob, half-shock. “Babe… You just— we just—holy hell.”

You looked down at the baby, eyes blurry with tears. “That was so fast.”

“Fast?” Kirishima grinned, eyes glassy. “You just beat me in a race. That was Red Riot levels of fast!”

Despite the exhaustion, you chuckled softly. “Guess he wanted to make a dramatic entrance.”

Kirishima leaned in, kissing your temple. “He’s got your timing. And your strength. You were amazing.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, soaking it all in—the warmth of your baby, the comfort of Eijirou beside you, the soft hum of nurses tidying the room.

“I think he’s gonna be a little hero,” you whispered, “just like his dad.”

Kirishima swallowed hard. “Nah. He’s gonna be a hero like his mom.”

You held your tiny son closer, smiling through tears, your heart full.

"Static Hearts"

The sun had just started to set, casting a golden glow over the U.A. training grounds. You sat on the bleachers, nursing a bottle of water after a long training session. Denki Kaminari was pacing nervously nearby, chewing on his lower lip.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He kept glancing your way, then turning back around and muttering something to himself.

“Denki,” you called. “Are you okay? You look like you're about to short-circuit.”

He jumped—literally—and gave you a sheepish grin. “Haha, yeah! Totally fine. Just, uh… processing. Y’know. Brain stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you process before doing something dumb?”

“Ouch,” he said, mock-pouting. “That was rude. Accurate, but rude.”

You laughed, and he rubbed the back of his neck, the blush rising to his cheeks like a voltage spike. “Okay, uh… can I tell you something? Like… serious something?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah, of course.”

He took a deep breath and stepped in front of you, eyes unusually steady despite the sparks dancing along his fingertips.

“I know I joke around a lot. And I know I’m not exactly the smoothest guy in the class—”

“You once flirted with a vending machine,” you reminded him.

“That machine ate my money, it was a declaration of war,” he said, flustered, but quickly shook his head. “Anyway. The point is… I like you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

You blinked, stunned, as he kept going, words tumbling out in a rush.

“And I’m not saying I expect you to feel the same, but I just—every time you smile, I feel like I could overload. In a good way! Not in the ‘eyes-go-blank-I’m-a-human-lightning-rod’ kind of way. I just… had to say it.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then you smiled.

“You’re such a dork.”

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Oh nooo, that’s it. I’m fried. I blew it.”

You reached out and tugged his sleeve gently. “Denki.”

He peeked at you through his fingers.

“I like you too.”

His eyes widened. “Wait—really? Like, seriously? No short-circuiting joke?”

“No joke,” you said, standing up to face him. “I think you’re funny. And brave. And sweet. And yeah… a little dumb sometimes.”

He grinned, the electricity in his hair sparking wildly now. “That’s fair.”

Then, suddenly unsure, he held out his hand. “So, uh… can I take you on a real date? No vending machines involved.”

You laced your fingers through his. “You’d better.”

---

“The Original Disaster Talk”

Teen!Bakugo x Mitsuki Bakugo (his mom)

Tags: Humor, Embarrassing Parenting, Family Chaos, Origin Story

---

There are a few moments in every man’s life that leave a permanent scar.

For Katsuki Bakugo, age 13, that moment came on a random Tuesday afternoon.

He’d just gotten home from school, stormed upstairs like he always did, and was about to open incognito mode for very educational purposes when he heard the knock.

“Oi, Katsuki,” came the voice of Mitsuki Bakugo, aka his mom, aka a hurricane in heels. “We need to talk.”

Bakugo blinked, suspicious. “About what?”

She opened the door before he could protest.

“You’re gettin’ taller. You’re smellin’ worse. And you’ve been hogging the bathroom like you’re hiding a whole-ass relationship in there,” she said, arms crossed.

Bakugo’s soul left his body. “W-what?! No, I haven’t—what are you talking about?!”

“Puberty, dumbass,” she snapped. “It’s happening. I’m not letting your sweaty little teenage man-hormones wreck this house without a warning.”

He turned bright red. “I DON’T HAVE MAN-HORMONES!”

“Bullshit,” Mitsuki said, tossing a pamphlet onto his bed titled “So You’re Growing Hair There, Huh?”

Bakugo stared at it in horror. “What the hell is this?!”

“Your dad was too much of a coward to have this talk with you, so now it’s my job,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed like this was a normal Tuesday. “Let’s start with the basics. Boners happen. Deal with it. You’re gonna get them at the worst possible times. Don’t point ‘em at people.”

“OH MY GOD,” Bakugo howled, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.

Mitsuki continued unfazed. “If you’re gonna, y’know, touch yourself, do it in private. Wash your hands. Don’t get weird with socks. Don’t break the plumbing. Don’t google anything that ends with ‘hub’. And if I ever catch you lying about what you’re doing in the shower—”

“I’M NEVER SHOWERING AGAIN,” Bakugo yelled from under the pillow.

“—you will be grounded, and I will tell Auntie Inko.”

“PLEASE STOP TALKING!”

She stood, patting his head like she’d just taught him how to tie his shoes. “You’ll survive. Just remember: if something’s leaking or growing and you don’t know why, talk to a damn adult.”

Bakugo peeked out. “You’re the worst.”

She smirked. “You’ll thank me when you’re a dad and your kid starts cryin’ because of a math test and a surprise boner.”

He would not thank her.

Not for a long, long time.

---

End Scene

Thus began the generational trauma of Bakugo men being emotionally damaged by The Talk. And so, the legend lives on…

I've currently finished a series featuring fem reader x kirishima, it's about 6 chapters♡

''Sticky Situations and Stone Walls"

In the prestigious halls of U.A. High, Minoru Mineta was infamous for two things: his questionable morals and his Quirk, Pop Off. Most students had learned to keep him at arm's length—some, a full hallway away. But what nobody expected was for him to have a twin brother.

Enter Mamoru Mineta—tall, stone-faced, and emotionally impenetrable. His Quirk, Stonewall, allowed him to generate massive slabs of concrete-like armor around his body, making him a literal and metaphorical brick wall. He walked into Class 1-B without a word, instantly drawing attention. Not for being flashy—but because of how normal he was.

Rumors flew.

“Wait, he’s Mineta’s twin?!”

“Are we sure? Maybe he’s just cursed to look like him.”

“Plot twist: Mineta is the evil twin.”

Unlike Minoru, Mamoru didn’t chase girls—he didn’t chase anything. He followed the rules. He trained harder than anyone. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it hit like a punch to the gut—blunt, honest, and painfully grounded.

Minoru hated him.

Well, kind of.

Okay, not really.

Because despite the endless teasing, the girls fawning over Mamoru, the constant comparisons—Mamoru always had his back. He never joined the others in mocking Minoru. In fact, he defended him. Quietly. Behind the scenes.

One day, when Mineta got caught peeking again and was nearly expelled, Mamoru stepped in.

“He’s stupid, not evil,” he said calmly to Aizawa. “Let me handle it.”

Aizawa blinked. “You want to vouch for him?”

Mamoru nodded. “He’s my idiot. I’ll keep him in check.”

And he did. Kinda. Sorta.

There was something oddly wholesome about seeing the two walk side-by-side: one a walking disaster with grapes for hair, the other a towering fortress of chill. They bickered like fire and ice. But when a villain attacked and Mamoru took a hit to shield his brother, something shifted.

Minoru realized: his brother wasn’t trying to change him.

He was just trying to protect him.

“So We’re Just Gonna Pretend That Didn’t Happen?”

Or: The Morning After Y/N’s Brain Went Rated R in HD

---

The sun was shining. Birds were chirping. The UA dorm was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Suspiciously peaceful.

Y/N strolled into the kitchen in fuzzy socks and a shirt that said “Unbothered. Hydrated. Inappropriate.”

The moment she entered, everyone fell silent.

Mina sipped her smoothie too fast and choked. Kaminari avoided eye contact like she was a tax collector. Momo looked like she had spent the night praying.

Iida actually stood up and saluted her.

Y/N blinked. “...Why do you all look like I committed war crimes?”

“You did,” Jirou said, deadpan.

“You said things,” added Uraraka, blushing furiously.

Y/N grinned. “What, I spoke truth. That movie scene was art. Michelangelo could never.”

“YOU CALLED HIM THE ‘BUFFET OF SIN’,” Kaminari yelled, dramatically flopping on the table.

“‘Marriott of Sin,’ actually,” she corrected. “Don’t misquote my genius.”

Bakugo entered the room, took one look at her, and immediately U-turned out.

“Ohhh no you don’t!” Y/N called after him. “You ran from the boat scene like it personally attacked you!”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

“He’s flustered,” Kirishima whispered.

“‘Flustered’ is generous. Man’s one more spicy scene away from spontaneously combusting.”

Aizawa entered mid-sentence, wearing sunglasses and carrying two coffees.

“If any of you say the word ‘buffet’ today, I’m deducting hero points.”

Y/N raised a hand. “Does it count if it’s in context—”

“NO.”

---

Later That Day – In Class

Todoroki turned to Y/N quietly.

“…You said that if your partner doesn’t make you ‘reconsider religion’—what did that mean?”

Everyone around them stopped breathing.

Y/N turned slowly, sipped her water like it was tea, and said:

“It means, Shoto… that there’s a type of intimacy that feels like you got spiritually suplexed by an angel. And you ascend a little. Like… you see your ancestors clapping.”

Todoroki nodded seriously. “That sounds… intense.”

“It’s the goal, my guy.”

“Is that a normal expectation?”

“For me? Absolutely. If I’m not crying and making dolphin noises, what are we even doing?”

From behind them, Jirou whispered, “I need a therapist and a new school.”

---

Lunch Time – Revenge Plots & Regrets

Bakugo finally confronted her while they were eating lunch.

“You just had to run your mouth, didn’t you?”

Y/N blinked innocently. “I run my mouth all the time. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“In front of everyone?! While the screen was still fogged up?!”

“Would you rather I waited until after the credits and did a full analysis?”

He glared. “If I ever hear the word ‘spine is decorative’ again—”

“Say it and I’ll Venmo you $5.”

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!”

“I’m an agent of chaos with a subscription to bad decisions.”

Kirishima whispered to Denki, “Honestly, she’s terrifying.”

“...Lowkey kinda hot though?”

“DUDE.”

---

Bonus: Present Mic found out later and just yelled,

“YEAHHHHH!! YOU’RE SPEAKING FROM THE HEART, BABY!”

Midnight has officially claimed Y/N as her “spirit child.”

---

To be continued… if Class 1-A survives her mouth.

"Hold On, I'm Here"

Genre: Angst / Comfort / Family

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Summary: The happiest moment of your lives turns into a nightmare when unexpected complications arise during childbirth. Bakugo is forced to face the terrifying possibility of losing the woman he loves.

---

The sterile smell of the hospital was suffocating. Katsuki paced the hallway like a caged animal, fists clenched, the roar of his heart louder than any explosion he'd ever caused. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios.

You'd gone into labor earlier than expected. Everything had seemed fine—until it wasn’t.

“She’s not dilating properly. We may need to perform an emergency C-section,” the doctor had said, face tight with concern.

Bakugo had never felt this powerless. Not during the toughest missions, not even when he'd nearly died. Nothing compared to this: waiting, helpless, as the woman he loved fought for her life behind closed doors.

“Bakugo-san?”

His head snapped up. A nurse stood in front of him, eyes gentle but serious.

“She’s still in surgery. There were complications with the placenta… she's lost a lot of blood, but we’re doing everything we can.”

He didn’t respond at first. Just stared. Then, he nodded, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

"She’s strong," he muttered under his breath. "Damn strong."

Time lost meaning.

Finally, hours later, they let him in. You were pale, hooked up to machines, a faint beep echoing in the room. But your chest was rising. You were breathing. Alive.

And in a tiny bassinet nearby—a small, wriggling bundle with a shock of your hair and his eyes.

Katsuki stood frozen for a moment, looking at both of you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered as he sat beside your bed, gently taking your hand. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, weak but there.

“Katsuki…”

“Yeah. I’m here. We’re okay. You're okay.”

He brought your hand to his lips, letting the tears fall freely now. You’d made it. Barely. But you’d made it.

And so had your family.

---

---

The hospital room was quieter now, filled with only soft beeping and the occasional squeak from the baby in the bassinet. You were still sleeping, recovering from the blood loss and surgery. Bakugo hadn’t moved from your side.

Except when the baby cried.

It startled him at first—the small, angry wail from something so tiny. Katsuki looked down at the bundle with wide eyes.

“Tch… what the hell do you want now?” he muttered, reaching into the bassinet with the same care he’d handle a bomb.

He picked the baby up, awkwardly at first, cradling her against his chest. She was so warm. So fragile. It made his heart squeeze in ways he didn’t expect.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he grumbled, though his voice was much softer than usual. “You better not get used to cryin’ just to get picked up.”

She kept crying.

“…Okay, maybe you’re hungry or somethin’. I dunno. No one gave me a damn manual on how to be a dad.” He glanced toward the sleeping figure of you, lips pressed tightly. “You’d know what to do. You always know.”

Eventually, with the help of a nurse, he fed her. Clumsily. Stubbornly. But he did it. And when she stopped crying and fell asleep in his arms, something clicked.

He sat back down in the chair beside your bed, holding the baby on his chest now, wrapped in soft blankets. His eyes drifted to you—still pale, but breathing easier. More color in your cheeks.

"You almost left me, dumbass," he whispered. "Don’t ever scare me like that again."

The baby shifted in his arms, letting out a little sigh. Bakugo looked down at her.

“…She’s got your nose. And my shitty attitude, probably.”

He gently touched your hand again, threading his fingers through yours.

“I’m gonna take care of her. And you. Even if I screw it up sometimes. Just… don’t leave me to do it alone.”

As if you heard him, your fingers twitched. Your eyelids fluttered open again, hazy but awake.

“Katsuki…?”

He exhaled sharply. Relief, love, guilt, everything hit at once.

“Yeah. I got her. I got both of you.”

---

---

The apartment was warmer than you remembered. Maybe it was the spring sun filtering through the windows. Or maybe it was the tiny presence sleeping in the bassinet, just a few feet away.

You were finally home.

Moving hurt. Breathing still felt heavy sometimes. But Katsuki never left your side. Not once.

He held your hand as you walked slowly to the couch, gently helping you sit down, fluffing pillows behind your back like he’d done it a thousand times before—even if his ears turned red while doing it.

“You good?” he asked, kneeling in front of you. His eyes scanned your face like he was still checking for danger.

You nodded, smiling softly. “I’m okay.”

“You better be.” His voice was gruff, but his thumb brushed your knee gently. “Scared the hell outta me, y’know.”

“I know.”

He didn’t say it, but you could see it in his eyes—he had cried. Maybe more than once. You reached out and ran your fingers through his messy blond hair.

Then a little noise came from the bassinet. A squeak, then a full-blown wail.

“Shit,” he muttered, standing up fast. “I got her, I got her.”

You watched him scoop her up with more confidence than a few days ago. He didn’t look scared now. Just tired. But in love.

Katsuki rocked her gently, pacing around the living room with her tucked against his shoulder.

“I just changed you,” he muttered under his breath. “Can’t be that again. You hungry? You got my appetite, huh?”

You laughed softly. “She probably does.”

He glanced over, and something flickered in his expression—something raw, unspoken.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “With her. With you. But I’m trying. Every second.”

You blinked through sudden tears. “You’re doing amazing.”

Katsuki sat beside you with the baby, his arm sliding around your back so you could lean against him. She was quiet now, snuggled against his chest, tiny fingers curled into his shirt.

“She’s got your fire,” you whispered.

“Damn right she does,” he said. “You made her strong. Just like you.”

And in that moment, sitting on the couch in your little apartment, wrapped in each other’s warmth and the soft sounds of your new daughter breathing between you—everything felt right.

Not perfect. But real.

And real was enough.

---

this isn’t a request, just wanted to say I adore your page. I haven’t been active on my account for personal reasons and wish I had motivation but seeing you go through your requests so fast is admirable :)

Omgggg♡ tysmmmm♡

It warms my heart that people say this to me, i really love to see that people love my page and adore it😭 i hope to make other people happy and im so glad that you admire me♡♡♡