Go beyond, plus Ultra

he flipped up your sheets to reveal a black hoodie that was two sizes too large and smelt faintly like cologne. the wrinkled article of clothing was tucked away under your blankets and duvet cover, but it was unmistakable; this wasn't yours. he picked it up and pulled it closer to his face, inspecting the fabric.

"what are you doing?"

aizawa stiffened, freezing like a deer in headlights. he turned slowly, only to be greeted by a scowl on your face. you stood in the doorway, arms crossed and clearly disappointed in your dad. your eyes trailed down to the fabric in his grip, before they widened. you swiftly snatched the hoodie from his hands and stuffed it into a nearby drawer.

"stop going through my stuff!" you frowned at the dark haired man, his guilty expression still on his face.

"sorry pumpkin," he shot a sheepish smile in your direction, a hand coming up to graze the nape of his neck. "i was going to do a load of laundry, you sure you don't wanna put your hoodie-"

"get out dad!" you were already ushering him out the door, pushing him with all your might. the tips of your ears flushed red and the look on your face implied you had been caught doing something you shouldn't. aizawa, now banished to the hallway, glanced back into your room, looking for a reason as to why you were acting so flighty.

"dinner's ready in five-"

SLAM-

the tan of the wooden door greeted his face.

ugh, teenagers.

yamada had his suspicions.

"YOOO, what's this dawg?"

yamada scrolled through your playlist as you drove, hands shaking at the wheel. you sat in the driver's seat, a bundle of nerves as your dad overlooked your driving practice. he was helping you prepare for your driving test — or at least he was trying to.

instead of making sure you were obeying the rules of the road, he was messing with the screen in between you two, looking through the playlist you threw on before starting the car.

"pops, you're supposed to be helping me drive!" you whined, one hand tapping your fingers impatiently against the wheel while the other reached for the gear stick. "and don't call me 'dawg'. that's so cringe." your dad ignored your comment, still rifling through the collection of songs. the title of the playlist, 'him', elicited a raised eyebrow from him.

love song. love song. another love song. a song about love. a song about yearning. a song about sex-

yamada's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. before the could turn to ask you what the hell inspired you to add such songs to your playlist, the car came to an abrupt stop. his body jerked, and he had never been so grateful for seat belts. a hand instinctively shot out to protect you from hurtling forward.

he turned to see a mortified look on your face, and followed your gaze to where a little cat licked it's paws in the middle of the road, a meter away from the car. he correctly assumed it was the culprit behind the sudden halting of the vehicle.

then, all at once, it hit him. you broke out into a wailing sob, the car behind yours honked it's horn angrily, and Sabrina Carpenter's vocals blared from the radio. even for a loud guy like him, this was too much.

"it's okay, love," he said unbuckling his seat belt and climbing out the car. "i'll drive us home, and we can try again tomorrow." he embraced you in a tight hug as you wiped your tears and snot on his shirt.

the car ride home was silent, your father casting sympathetic looks your way as you calmed down from your earlier driving incident. he let you relax, but not without making a mental note to ask you what inspired your choice of songs in your playlist.

eri hammered the final nail in the coffin.

"who's this one, eri-chan?" aizawa examined the drawing the young girl had handed him to pin onto the fridge. his eyes scanned the picture, taking a sip of his coffee.

the piece of paper in his hand depicted four figures. one was clearly him, with his dark, unkempt hair and capture tape (or at least what he thought was his capture tape) flowing in the wind. another was obviously yamada, a giant mouth drawn onto an egg shaped head with electric yellow hair that was almost as tall as him. you were next to them, a smile scribbled onto your face, and you… were holding the hand of an unfamiliar figure.

aizawa squinted at the drawing, now pinned onto their art gallery of a fridge. yamada copied him, peering over his partner's shoulder.

"is this one's hair supposed to be purple?" yamada asked eri, who was already working on her next artwork. she looked up to her dads with big doe eyes and nodded vigorously.

"and they have… are those eye bags?" aizawa brought a hand to his chin.

"um, i dunno," eri cocked her head to the side in confusion. "that's just how he looks!" the pair continued to rack their brains for the identity of the mystery person intruding their family portrait.

"and they're y/n's… friend?"

"yep!" the young girl grinned. "they hold hands, and kiss, and he told me he loves her!"

a silence fell over the kitchen, the scratching of eri's pencil on paper the only sound heard in the room.

"and who would that be, eri-chan?" yamada asked slowly and quietly, uncharacteristic of him. aizawa's grip tightened on his mug, squeezing the ceramic in his hands.

"shinsou-kun, duh!"

crack.

pieces of ceramic and drips of coffee scattered across the kitchen tiles — aizawa crushed his mug with his bare hands.

"i think they know."

a change in his teachers' behaviour wasn't lost on your boyfriend; shinsou spent the last week with extra duties in homeroom, felt like eraserhead was particularly hard on him in their training sessions, and present mic shouted louder at him than usual, if that was even possible.

"if they don't know by now, that's on them." you looked to your boyfriend with a smile.

he was lying on your bed, his purple locks tousled and his eyes looking into yours. you leaned forward to place a peck on his lips, causing him to pull you closer. you giggled as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you down to lie next to him.

"YOOO, what in the world?!"

"what the fuck."

your dads stared at the two of you, your bedroom door now swung open. you rolled your eyes while shinsou looked mortified. you had never seen him jump up so fast. you laughed, knowing that this scenario was always inevitable.

"yeah, you might be dead."

ARGH I LOVE THIS ONE ,, i'm still working on requests, tho don't be afraid to keep em coming!!

i hope you's had a wonderful valentines and ate loads of chocolate or whatever!! i heart u guys

luvv, hachiluvv xx

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ i. midoriya

➜ midoriya's great with kids! defo cried when he held his daughter for the first time, like full-on ugly sobbing.

➜ since the day you told him you were pregnant he kept a notebook for everything relating to kids, now that she's born, keeps a collection for her through the years noting her interests, preferences, so on.

➜ will profusely apologize if he raises his voice even slightly.

➜ the PTA's favorite parent because he is on top of everything, has arranged multiple school events on top of his grueling schedule.

➜ practices his 'serious dad' voice in the mirror. does not use it.

➜ keeps every single drawing she's ever made, even the ones where he isn't exactly sure how the orange triangle is a giraffe?

➜ is actually excited to attend all of her events, marks them on every calendar he has access to, sits through all of it without any complaints.

➜ writes her little notes for the day and slips them into her lunchbox

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ k. bakugo

➜ swears he'd never be one of those soft parents, folds as soon as she cries in his arms.

➜ is extremely good at styling her hair for some reason, she refuses to let anyone else do it because they don't 'do it right'.

➜ she will climb him like her own personal jungle gym, and he will pretend to hate it.

➜ calls her a little 'gremlin' and is one of those parents who jokes she isnt actually his kid and you two got her from the dumpster.

➜ threatens the 'monsters' under her bed extremely seriously, will discuss war tactics with her if the 'monster' doesn't go away.

➜ i just know that kid is a little shit like him, his mom loves taunting him with it. ("now you know what you put me through.")

➜ doesn't believe in babysitters, takes time off for her majority of the time, the most he'll be convinced to do is maybe let her stay with his parents or his friends and even that he hesitates to do.

➜ lets her help out in the kitchen, or well mostly just be there for moral support while he tells her to not shove her head in the oven or something.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ s. todoroki

➜ shoto was honestly scared to become a father in the first place, and i don't think he'd have a gender preference or anything because he never wants to be like his father was when he was growing up. very gentle with her.

➜ offers her his pinky to hold wherever they're going even if it's just going to the kitchen from the bedroom, he never lets go first either.

➜ uses his quirk to warm her up or cool her down depending on the weather, for the first few years of her life she genuinely does not know about temperature variation because he makes sure she's always comfortable.

➜ very seriously attempts 'dad jokes', because he doesn't exactly understand what they're meant to be. she laughs anyway.

➜ you know this man spoils her, anything she looks at? give him one in every single color.

➜ he isn't very good at emotional talks or feelings but he'll always listen to whatever she has to say, and most of the time thats enough.

➜ takes a lot of candid pictures of her to keep as memories.

➜ very keenly interested in her drawings, thinks she's some sort of abstract mastermind.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ t. iida

➜ his ass is PREPARED. color-coded calendars? done. schedules to optimize every single day? done.

➜ parenting manual truther i fear. reads them religiously and thinks that he's gonna follow them perfectly. until he realizes that a child is.. spontaneous.

➜ always cheers the loudest at school events, even if it's a bit stoic.

➜ neither of them can dance for shit. he teaches her his robot moves and she can replicate them perfectly somehow??

➜ can be a bit strict in terms of discipline and teaching but melts almost immediately if she looks at him with those eyes.

➜ panics if she scrapes her knee or even gets a paper cut, she's the one comforting him sometimes.

➜ watches kids tv shows with her to 'monitor what content she's consuming', but is just really into watching bluey.

➜ doesn't spoil her in the same way as shoto would per say, but will buy anything if she asks nicely enough.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ e. kirishima

➜ #1 GIRL DAD. HAS A T-SHIRT THAT SAYS SO WITH HER FACE ON IT.

➜ you know he hypes her up for whatever she's doing, and she energetically babbles in response.

➜ carries her on his shoulders literally everywhere. she's his little princess afterall.

➜ cries at her events, literally as soon as she's up on stage, here come the waterworks.

➜ encourages her to be open about her emotions and express how she feels however she's comfortable. feelings are manly!

➜ he likes doing drawing and doing coloring books with her, calls them a great bonding activity.

➜ both him and that kid have some hyperfixation on squishmellows, the nursery is practically overflowing with them at one point.

➜ he shows her off like crazy. "oh this? it's just a world's best dad mug my daughter bought as a gift for me because my daughter is just so amazing."

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ d. kaminari

➜ oh he's a disaster, he does not know how to do this, literal trainwreck but it's kind of endearing?

➜ he lets her win at whatever they're playing, because he's just so cool. honestly most of the time she just wins on her own but he gets to play it off as him being humble.

➜ menace duo, constantly trying one prank or another. god forbid they get their hands on water balloons. all hell breaks loose.

➜ tries to help with her homework to appear smart and manages to fail miserably, she ends up teaching him.

➜ embarrasses her constantly, he thinks it's funny.

➜ buys her a minifridge for some reason?? thinks it's the best gift known to mankind.

➜ midnight snack hoarders the both of them. literally it'll be like two in the morning and they're both eating cheese puffs or something.

➜ she thinks he's the funniest, coolest guy in the world.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ h. shinso

➜ pretty relaxed and laidback, he's quite observant though.

➜ will instantly figure out when something's wrong, what it is and how to make her feel better about it. most of the time it involves harassing the family cat, or food, or both.

➜ uses his voice changer to replicate the voices from whatever cartoon character she likes, even without it he can do a mean squidward.

➜ the two can sit in silence very comfortably.

➜ teaches her emotional intelligence and boundaries very early on so that she doesn't take anyone's shit like he used to in junior high.

➜ lets her paint his nails whatever color she wants, so yes, pro hero nighthide does have sparkly pink nails and he owns them.

➜ both of them have like creepily similar food preferences, and both of them for some reason hate peas with a burning passion.

➜ she sleeps best when she's laying on his chest.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ n. monoma

➜ one word. dramatic. very dramatic.

➜ brags about her so hard, to like literally anyone, man, woman, tree. ("my daughter is far superior, naturally.")

➜ absolutely insufferable to other parents, the PTA has considered banning him on multiple occasions.

➜ will verbally berate literally anyone who even looks at her the wrong way, and yes will completely freak out when she brings anybody home.

➜ literally has speeches prepared for her birthday parties, and they aren't short either, one of them went on for a good hour and a half.

➜ almost like over-praises the smallest accomplishments but never in a demeaning way and they sound so genuine it's actually kind of funny.

➜ they have matching tuxedos.

➜ that child is just like him and can actually eviscerate anybody verbally because she's been learning sarcasm since the ripe age of three.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ t. shigaraki

➜ shigaraki isn't great with kids. honestly he lowkey doesn't like them, but he cares a lot for his own.

➜ terrified of hurting her, will always be extra careful around her while keeping his hands gloved just in case.

➜ overprotective to the point where it's sometimes paranoia.

➜ physically flinches when he hears her crying. he doesn't know what to do.

➜ he definitely struggles a lot with patience but has never once taken anything out on her because at the end of the day, he loves that kid more than anything.

➜ he's a little freak who actually enjoys baby food and snacks for some reason, like literally has favorite flavors of baby food that he'll buy extra of so that both of them can eat it together. it's actually disgusting but it's a hill he'll die on.

➜ she watches him play games like it's the most interesting thing in the world, he'll give her a disconnected controller sometimes so that she thinks she's playing.

➜ not the best with affection but he does try, he even read up on it on some shitty parenting site because he wanted to but in the effort.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ k. takami

➜ 'cool dad' and self-proclaimed dilf.

➜ takes her flying so much that the girl actually flew before she learned how to walk properly.

➜ his own childhood was terrible and will do anything in his power to make sure that she doesn't for a second feel the way he felt for all those years.

➜ cries on her first day of school harder than she does and always picks her up from the sky.

➜ she puts him in time out when he's made one bad joke too many.

➜ gives her one of his feathers whenever she's away from him so that he always knows she's safe and also because who wouldn't want to show off that their dad is the pro-hero hawks.

➜ brings her little trinkets from all his missions, and she keeps them all safe in a special little box.

➜ she's his little baby bird and he keeps her wrapped in his wings whenever she's cold or can't sleep.

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ s. aizawa

➜ THE GIRL DAD EVER in a nonchalant way.

➜ practically raised eri for a while and his class of problem children so he is experienced and ready for anything she can throw at him.

➜ they have matching sleeping bags.

➜ is really blunt with his advice and doesn't sugarcoat things in the slightest but cares deeply.

➜ will bring her to class sometimes and all of his students fawn over her. she's like a class pet.

➜ carries around snacks god knows where and just always has them on him?? its kinda creepy.

➜ stays up all night if she's sick.

➜ the two have a designated nap time where they just like go to bed?? in sync?? how is this possible??

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ m. togata

➜ THE BEST DAD EVER REGARDLESS OF THE GENDER OF THE CHILD BECAUSE MIRIO TOGATA THE MAN YOU ARE.

➜ encourages her constantly, is her number one hype man, and like kirishima, also has a shirt with her face on it. in fact he has MULTIPLES.

➜ does her hair, dresses her up, takes her shopping, you name it, he's already doing it.

➜ makes her breakfast, lunch and dinner in with those silly shapes and yes her rice has to be shaped like hello kitty and her sausages have to be cut into little octopus or else she wont eat it.

➜ bedtime stories with sound effects and different voices. it's a wholeass theatrical production.

➜ helps her with her homework, teaches her how to be kind and express herself, honestly what can't this man do?

➜ carries her around everywhere because she's always going to be his princess and no one will ever take that away from him.

➜ makes the best silly faces and is a pro at peek-a-boo.

Earlier that evening he’d simply told you to get ready. He had hinted to wear the red set he likes with something lacy on top. 

When you stepped outside, there he was—already on his ruby red scooter. One thick leg swung over each side, thighs spreading wide to balance the machine, broad back and shoulders blocking most of the streetlight behind him. 

“Get on,” he said.

You slid behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. Your hands barely met around his middle. The scooter dipped slightly under the combined weight, then steadied as he kicked off.

When he finally parked outside the restaurant, he helped you off with a big hand around your waist.

“Happy Valentines, baby,” he said, wheeling his scooter up the accessibility ramp behind you.

Dinner started perfectly after that. You knew exactly what you wanted—a dish your friend had recommended when she got off of the waiting list last month. You’d been dreaming of the menu for months after all.

Sukuna on the other hand, seemed to be quite indecisive.

He leaned back in his scooter, his thick fingers wrapped around the handle to hold up his upper body. His eyes scanned the menu slowly. 

When the waiter came by, you politely ordered your appetizer, main course, and dessert, along with an espresso martini.

Sukuna needed more time. Every few seconds, he’d grunt low in his throat, flip a page, then grunt again. The waiter hovered politely, notepad in hand, but Sukuna just kept staring.

You raised an eyebrow. “Kuna, is everything okay?”

His eyes slowly peel up from the menu, his tattooed face meeting yours. But he doesn’t say anything. Not to you at least. 

He pulls himself back up from his strange scooter position? and closes the menu with a soft snap.

“Bring everything,” he says.

The waiter blinks. “Sir?”

“Everything on the menu,” he slides the menu back to the waiter with his fat knuckles, your eyes wide in horror. “Get her whatever she wants, and me everything on the menu.”

You stare at him, heat creeping up your neck. “Kuna, baby, I—”

He cuts you off with a lazy shrug. “Woman, I’m hungry and I want the WHOLE menu.”

The waiter recovers from his shock and eases the situation. “Yes, sir. We’ll start with appetizers and keep the dishes coming as they’re ready.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he barks out as the waiter rushes off.

"The whole menu?” you start, concerned. “That's... insane. There's like twenty dishes."

Sukuna's smirk deepened. “I didn’t get this big for nothing.”

He leans back in his scooter as his chubby hands come down to smack his belly. The rolls on his body recoil in response, vibrating and mimicking what was like several waves in the ocean.

The first plates arrived moments later. A double of your starting dish.

“Eat,” Sukuna said simply, scarfing down the appetizer in two bites.

Course after course appeared. As you nibbled on the food in front of you, you watched Sukuna disgustingly swallow down every dish.

You flinch, watching his throat bob with every swallow, his fat fingers coming up to wipe the mess from his mouth, his eyes widening with every coming dish just as you’ve been getting full off of your one meal.

“Are you finishing that?” he asks, motioning towards your half eaten main course.

He had managed to eat most of the dishes they brought him already.

“Sukuna,” you say, your manicured fingers coming up to massage your temple. “You cannot be serious. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“Shut up,” he says, grubby hands reaching out to grab your plate.

He grabs the fork, shoving the food down his throat before swallowing.

Then, he groans in pain. 

“Sukuna!” you exclaim in worry. 

You glance around at the staff, you know they’re staring. 

What is a girl like you doing with fatkuna on his ruby red scooter? If only they knew what he looked like in his prime.

Before you can say anything else, Sukuna rips his dress shirt off clean, revealing his tattooed torso, saggy man boobs, and endless stomach rolls.

“Sukuna, stop,” you hiss.

“Schuth up!” he commands with his mouth full, eating what is left on the plate.

“Sukuna, you always do this!”

The whole restaurant staff gasps.

“Stop complaining,” he says. “We… we… we havent’ had dessert yet.”

“Tonight was suppossed to be perfect, Kuna..”

You’re clearly disappointed. Your voice cracks just enough to make it obvious.

The waiter arrives on cue, balancing a tray of desserts. Fatkuna’s eyes light up despite the groan he lets out when he shifts.

He reaches for a molten chocolate cake first, and brings it to his mouth.

The moment he swallows, there is a distant, ominous crack.

The next thing you know, Sukuna is on the floor, lying on his side, chocolate cake smeared across his neck and chest.

The scooter gave way from under him.

His legs are flailing and the front wheel spins once, then stops.

The entire restaurant goes silent.

You stare at the wreckage, then at him—his roles spilling forward as he tries to sit up.

“Sukuna,” you say, sternly. “GET YOUR FAT ASS UP.”

He tries. He really does.

His big palms plant on the table, one plump leg trying to bend under him to hurl himself up, but his centre of gravity is all wrong. After a few futile rocks back and forth, he just… stills.

The staff are openly gaping now, their phones angled toward him discreetly.

“I can’t,” he says, defeated. “You’re going to have to roll me out of here.”

Whatthefuck.

You stand, chair shoved back. “Fine.”

You circle around, grab him under one arm—your manicured nails digging in just enough to make a point—and start pulling. He doesn’t budge at first, but you’re past patience. You plant your heels, lean your whole body weight, and heave.

Inch by inch, he slides out of the remains of his ruby red scooter. The tablecloth drags with him for a dramatic second before fluttering free.

Now he’s free on his other side, able to see the wreckage.

“NOOOOOOOO,” he yells out, his swollen arm reaching out as his hands do a grabbing motion. “MY RUBY RED SCOOTER.”

You kick his side. Even if it was hard, he wouldn’t have felt it through all his blubber. “Shut the fuck up.”

Before he can react, you hook your arms under his shoulders (as much as they’ll reach), plant your feet, and start dragging/rolling him toward the exit. The carpet bunches under him like a red carpet gone wrong. Every few feet he lets out a low “oof” or “easy, baby,” but you’re not listening.

The accessibility ramp outside is mercifully wide. You maneuver him onto it—gravity helps now—and give one final shove. He starts rolling slowly at first.

But, his body angles diagonally, getting him stuck between the two railing. 

You’ve had enough. You kick him again—harder—but to no avail.

You place the bottom of your heel onto his back, and with all your strength, kick him.

He picks up speed down the slope like a boulder.

He hits the bottom with a thud, momentum carrying him straight into the street.

A sedan rounds the corner at that exact moment—headlights flaring.

Crunch.

Not the sickening thud you brace for. Instead, there’s a metallic thunk, a crunch of fiberglass, and the car lurches to a stop. The hood crumples inward in a perfect Sukuna-shaped dent. The driver’s door flies open; a stunned man stumbles out, staring at the immovable mass in the road.

Sukuna doesn’t even flinch. He lies there, breathing heavily, one chubby arm flung out.

The car? Totaled front end. Sukuna? Not a scratch.

You storm down the ramp, furious, cheeks burning from secondhand embarrassment.

“Sukuna, you piece of shit.”

He cracks one eye open, smirks up at you from the pavement. “So, can I get head when we get home?”

Your rage boils over. 

You grab his wrist again—both hands this time—and start the long, undignified process of rolling him the rest of the way home.

Worst valentines day EVER.

thank you besties @motel6killer @whimsic @coralbae for helping fuel my fatkuna dreams

After Afton’s atrocities came to light, the justice system decided to commit him to a psychiatric facility rather than send him onto the electric chair.

«H-How did you get out...?»

«All in due time, love. All that matters now is that I’m here, with you.»

Your eyes stay fixed on him as he quietly closes the wooden front door behind him before running a hand through his wet hair. Every muscle in your body is tense, ready to run or fight if necessary.

His clothes are stained with blood in some places, his hands and forearms tinted red.

«I see you baked a cake. Did you know I was coming?»

He chuckles darkly at his own unfunny joke.

You step back as he moves past you into the kitchen. You watch him closely as he grabs two plates and forks, then cuts into the cake - originally meant for one of your relatives.

For a moment, you consider bolting for the phone to call the police. But you quickly dismiss the thought. Afton is no idiot. He has probably already cut the line. Besides, it would take too long to dial on the old rotary phone and-

«I’ve changed, my precious, little bunny. I’m a good man now.»

William’s smooth yet calculated, ominous voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

«You’re awfully quiet, darling. Don’t you want to know how I’ve been? How I've been TREATED?!»

He leaves the plates with slices of cake on the kitchen counter, then slowly presses your body back against the nearest wall.

«After a while... I-I forgot your scent. Your... taste.»

His warm lips brush tenderly against the thin, sensitive skin of your ear, sending a cold shiver down your spine. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before starting to mark your skin with his lips and teeth. His large hands roam your body like vines desperately clinging to a tree, trying to drain it of its life.

«See how gentle I’ve become? Please, darling... forgive this silly, ol' rabbit.»