Ex Husband Bakugo Who Knew Marrying His High School Sweetheart Would Just Hold Him Back From His Goal

This is not from your fic but could you do a small scenario of Nanami interacting with his baby? I swear those dad!Nanami headcanons made me so soft

okay i was going to write a scenario with a baby baby but then this kinda hit me and i had to go with it instead!

wc is ~1k bc i'm down bad for dad!nanami

gn!reader, unnamed daughter, hint of angst but mostly fluff (i think)

"Tadaima!" you call, kicking off your shoes with a sigh and nudging them to the side. They splay out beside Nanami's shoes, neatly tucked away.

There's no patter of little feet scrambling to the genkan. No soft, pleased rumble of okaeri as louder footsteps follow in their wake. You fish out your phone.

Nanami picks up on the second ring, his stoic greeting softened by the way it sounds when he calls you sweetheart.

"Where'd you go?" you ask.

He sighs. "I left a note."

"I didn't read it."

"Clearly," he says, but his voice is warm, all summer honey. "We're at the park. We'll head home in a few minutes."

"What, I don't get to have fun at the park?"

He sighs again, heavier this time. You bite down on your laugh. "Come join us, then," he says.

"I'll be there in just a minute."

He pauses. "She wanted to go to Hanegi."

"You're a sucker," you tell him, slipping your shoes back on.

"I'm aware."

"I'll be there in twenty, then."

He says something muffled. You don't need to hear the words to know he's talking to your daughter; it's in his voice, affection stitched quiet into his tone, a patchwork quilt of love sewn soft on his tongue. She chatters back at him, her voice a burbling spring brook.

"Okay," Nanami says distantly, and then he's clear again as he says, monotone: "Apparently twenty minutes is too long. You're supposed to walk faster."

You snort. "I'll do my best. See you soon."

"See you soon, sweetheart."

You walk to Hanegi, passing by the park just down your street—small but serviceable, the paths to the playground lined with overflowing flowers, their petals crinkled at the edges, summer's last stand.

It's easy to find them when you arrive; the playground has begun to empty as it gets later. You pause for a moment and just watch.

Nanami's on one knee, his broad body dwarfing your daughter. She wiggles in place as he ties her shoe, his big hands deft. You can hear the rumble of his voice as he murmurs to her, but the words are lost in the space between you.

He checks her other shoe before pulling back. Your daughter reaches out and pats him on the cheek with a chubby hand. He catches it and presses a little kiss against her palm before getting to his feet.

He watches her run back to a little circle of children. Nanami can be difficult to read at the best of times, but what sweeps over his face now is stark. It's gone within a breath, but you think you'll never forget it.

"Hi," you say, sidling up to him as he leans down to brush off his knee. "I told you we should get the velcro shoes."

He rolls his eyes. "Then she'll never learn," he says, straightening up and pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your lips.

"Is she learning if you're doing it for her?"

He pinches at your side. Your yelp is half laughter, and he moves out of the way without looking when you try to pinch him back. But then his hand is on your hip, and you lean into the warmth of him. Across the way, your daughter shrieks out a laugh as she chases another little girl.

"When do you leave?" you ask quietly.

His fingers flex on your hip. "Tomorrow morning."

You let out a soft breath. "Okay," you say.

The two of you watch your daughter play—calling out to her at times, until Nanami is roped into pushing her on the swing, with her indifferent to your pout when she shuts down your defense of your pushes in comparison to his—until the promise of night is settling over the horizon.

Nanami calls her name. She comes trotting over, hair mussed and eyes bright. He leans down to take her hand for the walk home, his hand engulfing her tiny one.

You've just made it out of the park when she starts dragging her feet. "Daddy," she says, tugging at his hand. "'M tired."

Nanami raises a brow. "If you want something, you should ask politely," he says, but he's already bending down to sweep her up. He perches her on his hip, cradles her small form to him with excruciating delicacy.

Sucker, you mouth at him. He ignores you.

"Sorry," she grumbles, burying her face into his chest.

He presses a kiss to her hair. It doesn't quite hide the quirk of his lips, and the fondness tucked secret into that small smile swells in you, washes over you like the tide, an endless sea too vast for your body.

"Kento," you say suddenly, breathlessly. "Let's go to the okonomiyaki stall for dinner."

Your daughter perks up immediately, turning her small face towards him, a flower seeking sun.

Nanami glances at you. "We'd be out past her bedtime."

"I know."

He considers you for a moment, his dark eyes knowing. They're mesmerizing in the quickly fading sunlight. "Alright," he says.

Your daughter giggles with delight.

"What do you want in yours?" he asks her, already heading in the direction of the stall, his hand warm at the small of your back, keeping you close.

You barely hear her reply. You're too busy watching them, committing them to memory, from the glint of Nanami's golden hair to the delicate brush of his fingers on her cheeks to the way her cheeks puff out as she squirms.

He pauses for a moment to press his forehead against hers, whispering something too quiet for you to catch. She beams at him, and he smiles back, his fingers tracing little patterns against you, and it feels like coming home.

A/N: HI! I rewrote these, because I hated them. Now you can expect a part two lol.

Synopsis: These are separate drabbles of Megumi x reader encounters where his dogs come and visit you when he’s getting it on. These are just progression encounters in an strangers to lovers timeline. I intend a part two, but here are the first five in the series.

All of the characters in this are aged up, despite still living on the campus of Jujitsu Tech. (They live in the teachers yard) I never really specify, but the readers job is to research the places sorcerers are to vacate curses from. They then hand the info over to ijich. They are called the Jujutsu Librarians.

One

Your cheeks coat in cold moist streaks. Your half asleep state chalks it up to a window left open, likely a November chill nipping your skin, but then its warm, then cold and wet. Licking.

You snake your hands around your attackers neck, pulling them into a snuggle, soft fur puffing between your fingers. You beg for five more minutes with a promise to give them all your attention at a waking hour, but as your mind begins to slip back into a blissful rest you are presented with two absolutes.

You are not home, and this is not your dog.

With a grog you have to fling yourself from a black dog leans on your side while another white on peaks at you from the foot of your bed frame. You’d ask who they belong to, but the red symbols on their foreheads tag them as Megumi’s.

The black dog weaves through your still packed suitcases hopping to your unoccupied side. You look around wondering why they could be here.

The only times you’d seen the pups was when they were hunting curses and from the look and feel of your surroundings their was none.

White dog pants onto your nose, slathering you in a slobber gooped kiss.

“oof,” you say, rubbing your nose, you voice caught between normal and sandpaper. “thanks for that, um-” you look around the shut window and door. “how did you?”

Behind your studio apartments door three knocks echo through the room pulling your and the dogs attention.

“Come in-”

Megumi peaks over the lip of the door, freshly showered hair dripping onto the rug. “hey,” His eyes find both butts of his dogs wagging at him as he steps inside. “I’m sorry about them. They uh- Tend to wander when not working.”

“it’s fine. I don’t mind the company,” you say, thinking about the millisecond of peace you felt in the animals familiarity. “My dog hasn’t yet arrived from my home country, so they’re being very comforting.”

“right um-” he holds out his hands, the dogs dissipating from reality. He goes to turn before pausing in the doorway. “you’re the new librarian, right?”

You pull your pajama shirt straight wishing this wasn’t your first official meeting of the sorcerer. “At standing yes.”

He nods. “what is your name?”

“L/N.”

“Hm,” he says, “nice to meet you L/N, sorry again about the dogs.”

Keep reading

... give me the soft bakugo 👀

If this flops or gets me ostracized from the fandom you’re uninvited to my birthday party-

-

Bakugo could never stay awake during movies.

It was a problem for him, genuinely. The amount of times he’s fallen asleep, and grumbles in annoyance when you tell him the movie’s over is truly staggering. It’s not that he wants to miss the action, he’s just so exhausted from being… well. Bakugo, that when the end of the day comes, and you’ve got a hand buried in his hair and a blanket tossed over you both, he never stands a chance.

And it’s a ritual at this point, merely part of your daily routine. He comes home. He showers. He curls up against you, and before the movie’s rising action can start, he’s out cold.

And nine times out of ten, you’re more than willing to stay, scratching his scalp and watching Bakugo’s handsome face twitch and lax with each detail of dreams…

But today? The one out of ten? You’re fucking hungry.

You so wish you’d eaten before you decided to be his snuggle buddy for the next few hours, knowing he’d already had a bad enough day and you leaving to have a snack would only disturb him further, but if it wasn’t you slowly leaving the warmth of bed, it would be your growling stomach.

Okay. Slowly now. You pinch the arm that’s tossed over your waist and slowly lift it up, slipping from under the appendage and out to freedom.

Once out of his warm embrace, you quickly scurry to the kitchen for a sandwich- heavy enough to get through the night, but light enough where you can quickly eat it- and a quick look through of your phone so you can update your friends and family to be officially his for the night.

And it seems to all go well! He’s still knocked out, as you assumed he would be after such a long day, and you’re just about ready to bite when-

“…the hell in the fuck are you doing?”

The voice makes your eyes wander from the brightness of your phone screen, to the culprit himself, standing in the hallway with sweats low on his hips and a blanket wrapped around just the top half of his torso. He knuckles his tired eyes, his lips in a sleepy scowl, and god he looks so snuggly you want to bring him straight back to his warm bed and let him sleep off the day.

But your rumbling stomach would never allow that.

Stopping your staring, your teeth hover over the sandwich before coming down to a biteless close, and you look at him with a clear of your throat, “I’m… eating?”

“You left the bed.”

“Yeah, because you don’t like crumbs-“

“You left me in the bed.”

You blink at him in complete confusion, trying your hardest not to laugh in his face as he growls deep in his throat, “you left me alone in the bed, to make yourself a sandwich!”

“Well I sure as hell wasn’t going to wake you up,” you snort, watching as he struggles back a yawn to continue his ‘threatening’ look. “You were tired babe, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Well… well I didn’t like not knowing where you were,” he grumbles. “And when I pat the damned bed and it was empty, that was an even worse way to wake up.”

All an elaborate way of saying ‘I didn’t like that you left me and our cuddle time.’ You could’ve sworn he’d only be mad if you’d woken him up in the process of leaving, but that’s very clearly not the case. When a loving grin spreads over your face, you know he knows he’s been figured out, and he crosses his blanket-covered arms and avoids your gaze. “Awww, Katsuki-“

“Don’t even.”

“Did you want me to-“

“Fuck off.”

“Stay and snuggle?” His words of empty threats do nothing to deter you from finishing your sweet coo, which he scoffs at while you slowly pull out the chair next to you for him to sit in. “Baby, you know I’d never leave if I knew it would make you upset!”

“It didn’t make me up-fucking-set,” he growls, but he does let his long legs carry him to the chair next to you, plopping down sleepily while maroon eyes struggle to stay awake. “It’s the principle of the matter- you leave, you fuckin’ tell me where you’re going. End of discussion.”

You snort and shake your head at his words, finally taking a bite of your sandwich and thus, ending the conversation. Despite his efforts, he doesn’t look half as mad as he thinks he does, lips pouty and cheeks a titch flushed from your affectionate words and the last remnants of sleep being pulled from his soul.

“For what it’s worth,” you hum, slowly tugging his chair closer to yours, which he instantly rests his head on your shoulder when he’s close enough. “I always want to cuddle with you, too, stinky.”

“Quit it with your stupid pet names,” he grumbles. “I am a man, and I find it disgusting the way you are able to make my heart race.”

“Of course you do,” you agree with him to relax his protests, turning your head to kiss the fluffs of hair that adorn the crown of his head. “Let me finish eating, then we can go nap for real.”

He grunts, a pouting language for ‘fine,’ before he lets you eat in slight peace, just without the use of your right arm which is now being held hostage by his own two limbs.

“C’ I have a bite?” He mumbles, opening his mouth expectantly, as if already knowing you’d say yes. You chuckle and bring the sandwich to his lips, which he bites softly and chews slowly. “‘fank you.”

“You’re welcome, my love.”

“Gross.”

GOD I wish the minimum wage was a living wage.

I'm not flipping burgers, I'm cleaning litterboxes and doing basic vet care like checking weights, administering medicine, bathing, using IVs, keeping records, making lists, doing photography, and way way more. But the point is even if I was just cleaning litterboxes... I love the work. I wish I could pay rent. Shouldn't I be able to clean litterboxes and feed cats who were rescued from the streets and do that fulfilling wonderful work without wondering where I'm going to live?

Shouldn't someone be able to flip burgers, make art, clean up trash, care for the oceans, teach your children, or rescue animals without being forced to choose between their job and their bills?

What if I don't WANT to climb the ladder and use my degree and search for high stress high pay jobs in order to live? What if I want the high stress job of seeing a kitten crashing below survivable temperature and bringing them back from the brink of death, knowing that I'm the only thing standing between this homeless, unwanted kitten and an early grave?

Shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't I be able to afford food and rent by doing that?

I don't want to work at a vet office that can give me steady pay increases. I want to work here, with cats who have no owners, nursing them back to health and helping pick their forever home. I want the infrastructure to support me in doing that. I want the laws to say I can and have programs in place to make it so my shelter CAN support me. I want rent to reflect wages. I want wages to reflect rent.

I want to help the world and be able to survive doing it. I want to thrive doing it. I want that for everyone.

been thinking about this for the past half hour.

the comment section is a joke but i got nothing

Eros

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.

Get down on it

-William Wordsworth