𝙙𝙮𝙖𝙣 ᯓ★

"𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺? 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦" mha writer <3 tiktok- kirishimasladyy

[soraphicdeactivated]

where's all the bkdk x reader fics where izuku and reader are in a long term loving relationship and bakugos a miserable lonely piece of shit who's never seen two people so in love before and he's so fucking jealous and pathetic that he ends up becoming your guys personal little lap dog as long as you give him a grain of affection and and and

[certifiedseraphim]

"I would be kind for you" Katsuki x "I would be cruel for you" Izuku HEAR MEEEE

katsuki who died for izuku on the field and Izuku who promised himself if his Kacchan did not come back to him he would personally put each and every participant in the battle down. Villains, friends, mentors.

Katsuki whose love has made him truly heroic and Izuku who would give up his heroism for love.

They are SO IMPORTANT TO ME.

[dotlusional]

beauty mark | midoriya, i.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, pussywhipped!teasing!izuku yay, brat!fem!afab!reader, cunnilingus, porn no plot, reader has a beauty mark in the hoo ha, clothed sex

ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old account

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: observant + annoying bf izuku eating out shy reader for the first time

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~340

“you got a beauty mark in here, baby.”

after vehemently refusing to observe izuku eating you out for the past five minutes due to shyness, your arm covering your sight lowers so you can glance down at him lying in between your legs, and you watch as his thick fingers spread open your drooling folds into the shape of a V. a shiver runs down your spine as he presses a chaste kiss directly to the mark before swiping over it with his tongue.

“what…?” you ask hazily, attempting to prop yourself up onto your elbows, “i do?”

“uh huh.” he takes another lick, the sound of your guys' bedsheets rustling as he adjusted the growing tent in his sweats. “you want me to take a picture?”

“uh, no—” you scowl. a whiny whimper quickly replaces the sound. “what the hell am i gonna do with a picture?”

“look at it,” he shrugs. “admire it. love it” — chuu — “that’s what i’m doing.”

he must be crazy, you decided, to think you were going to let him have documentation of you receiving oral for the first time — pajamas pants pooled at your ankles, shirt riding up your stomach, hands trembling, needy pussy spread open — on his phone. you shake your head, a breathy hiss escaping you.

“babe, can’t you just— ah — do it without the comments? it’s embarrassing…”

izuku only lets out a simple hum in response. “bossy, bossy,” he muses. his lips wrap themself around your clit before giving the bead an obnoxious slurp. “i just think it's funny.”

“funny?” your brows scrunch. “why is it funny?”

your boyfriend merely laughs at your confusion and how you writhe underneath him. “cause’ it’s like— y’know that thing about how moles are the places where your lover in a past life kissed?” when you roll your eyes, the grin tugging at his lips deepens. “looks like someone was getting freaky.”

god, did he ever shut up?

“izuku,” you huff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “don’t be weird.”

“alright, alright,” he concedes with a chuckle, “no talking with my mouth full, got it.”

[bearinlaice]

hiiii i was wondering if you could do bakugou x f reader and its like fluff smut idk but like we’re it’s like skin to skin cuddling so like only underwear on and there just cuddling and kissing and talking

skin to skin | k. bakugo .ᐟ 

ᝰ.ᐟ cw: 18+, fluff, smut, skin-to-skin cuddling, soft kisses, random conversation, light bickering, light teasing, grinding, dry humping, p in v sex, softdom!katsuki, he’s also a pervert heh, sub!fem!reader, established relationship

ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis: skin to skin with katsuki

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n 💬: uhh take this ! domestic katsuki … need that expeditiously. do u guys still liek me ?

“it’s too fuckin’ hot,” katsuki mutters, complaining, already tugging his shirt back over his head and tossing it somewhere across the room, his muscles flexing with the motion. then he looks at you expectantly. “you’re overdressed.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m literally in a tank top.”

“still,” he says, dropping onto the mattress with an “oof” in just his boxers. his skin is still warm from the shower he took a while ago, hair still slightly damp at the ends.

you pretend to think about it, taking your sweet old time just to annoy him. then, you slowly pull your tank top over your head, unclasp your bra, and shimmy out of your pajama pants, leaving you in your underwear, just like him.

katsuki follows every move without any shame whatsoever, and when you notice him watching, he simply clicks his tongue. “took you long enough,” he says, holding one arm out. “c’mere,” he rasps, voice low and inviting, pulling you into his arms for that skin-to-skin contact he craved.

the both of you too tired and too warm for clothes. you slide against him and your bodies flush, his warmth seeps into you as he wraps one arm around your waist and slides the other up your back, fingers splaying wide to feel every inch.

he exhales long, murmuring, “fuck, see? this is better. skin on skin... yeah.” his chest pressed to yours, the steady thump of his heart syncing with yours.

you can’t help but tease softly, “you’re so dramatic.” then you press a kiss to the center of his chest.

he huffs but tilts his chin down so he can press a kiss to the top of your head. then another, one to your forehead and one to your cheek. just soft, lazy kisses trailing down to your chest where his lips brushed the swell of your breast.

you nuzzle closer, inhaling the faint scent of soap and him. one leg slipping between his thighs as his hand moves slowly up and down your spine, warm and heavy. “…so, what’d you do today?” you ask softly, tracing idle shapes over his collarbone.

“training kicked my ass, then paperwork, and i had to yell at some bums who couldn't get their shit together,” he answers, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “same as usual.”

you smile. “you sure like yelling, though it’s not good for you.”

he pulled back just enough to glare, but it softened quick. “nah, i like competence. but fuck it.” then he kissed you again, lips molding to yours slowly, tongue slipping in to taste you deep.

you then break away to ask, “wait, wait, did you eat anything?”

“…yeah,” he admits with a sheepish grunt as you interrupt his kisses, and you squint at him. he rolls his eyes and mutters. “protein bar.”

you push lightly at his chest. “katsuki.”

“what? i was busy.” he catches your hand before you can pull away, turning it to kiss your knuckles, then your palm, then pressing it flat over his heart. “i’ll eat more tomorrow,” he says quietly. “stop worryin’,” his eyes hold that rare softness, and you lean in for another kiss at the sight.

he chased your lips when you pulled back, peppering more gentle ones, clingy in the best way.

he then shifted, rolling to his side and maneuvering you carefully, settling between your thighs with his hips nestled close. his dick, now fully hard just from the constant kisses, pressed against your inner thigh, hot and heavy.

“you okay?” you ask with a scoff, voice soft with care as you notice.

“perfect,” he says gruffly, kissing along your jaw, steady and exploratory, lips dragging down your neck, pausing at your collarbone to suck gently, leaving a faint mark. “you’re s’warm,” he murmurs against your skin.

“y-you complained about that five minutes ago.”

“different,” he says simply, nuzzling closer.

you laugh quietly and run your fingers through his damp hair again, scratching lightly at his scalp. he exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “…we should grocery shop tomorrow,” you say randomly, thumb brushing over his cheek.

he groans dramatically into your neck. “don’t ruin it.”

“we’re out of coffee.”

that makes him lift his head immediately. “what.”

you nod solemnly. “you used the last of it this morning.”

he stares at you like you just delivered life ending news. “we’re going first thing tomorrow,” he says seriously, then leans down to steal another kiss. “not dealin’ with you without caffeine.”

you gasp softly, slightly offended. “me?”

“you’re a lot,” he mutters, smirking smugly against your lips.

“you’re the one who yells at people all the time.” you protest into his kiss.

“i have my reasons,” he pulls back to insist, but his voice softens when he leans in to kiss you again, thumb stroking lazily along your waist.

your leg hooks around his, pulling him closer. katsuki exhales shakily from your warmth hitting his bulge, but instead of escalating, he presses his forehead to yours. “we’ll get groceries tomorrow,” he says quietly. “and that stupid cereal you like.”

you smile and laugh softly. “yes, sir.” then your smile drops, “hey, it’s not stupid!”

“it’s just a bunch of marshmallows.”

“and? it’s not stupid — it’s got the best marshmallows!”

he kisses you again just to shut you up, his hand stroking down your side to rest on your thigh. the shift brings his hips closer, and you feel him a little bit harder now — his dick brushing against your inner thighs through the thin barrier of his boxers. wait, no, somehow in the tangle of shifting, kissing, and pulling, his boxers are gone too, leaving him bare.

his dick twitched against you, already smearing warm slick against your skin.

“katsuki!” you gasp softly at the slick contact, your own arousal stirring, heat pooling low in your stomach as his dick twitches against you.

"just cuddlin'," he mutters, voice dropping lower, but his hips rock forward instinctively, his dick sliding along your clothed folds in a teasing dry hump.

you arch up to meet him, shamelessly so. your legs parting wider. "yeah? sure feels like more than just ‘cuddling,’" you whisper, teasing, but your hands grip his shoulders, urging him on.

he groans low, nuzzling into your neck, lips sucking gently at your collarbone to leave another faint mark. "shut up," he rasps, affection laced all through his voice.

his hand rhen cups your ass, sliding your panties aside and pressing you tighter against him, guiding the slow grind. his tip then nudges your clit with each pass as he humps steadily. "fuck," he murmurs against your skin, breath hot.

"a-all this from simple cuddling?” you ask, voice a bit shaky as you try to hold yourself together.

"yeah," he says simply, kissing along your jaw, slow and tender.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him back for a deeper kiss. the rhythm picks up just a notch, his dick sliding faster along your pussy, the wet sounds filling the quiet room.

"mm, katsu," you breathe against his lips, and he responds by angling his hips, letting the head of his dick catch at your entrance. he pushes in slow, inch by inch, filling you with that soft, skin-to-skin fuck that feels like the natural extension of your “cuddle.”

the stretch is so, so perfect. your warmth envelops katsuki completely as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush against yours. “f-fuck!” you rasp out, clenching tightly around him.

he keeps it tender, thrusting deep as his mouth finds yours again between praises. "so fuckin' good... tight ‘round me like this." your walls clench, pulling him deeper, and you wrap your legs around his waist, nails digging into his back.

one of katsuki’s arms wrap around your neck, his hand holding your jaw, while his other hand roams, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple as he rolls his hips, grinding against your clit with every inward push.

when you tip over the edge, it's with a muffled whine into his shoulder, pussy pulsing around his dick, milking him until he follows. “mm! katsuki!”

“shit,” he buries himself deep, spilling hot cum inside you with a guttural groan, shuddering as he rides it out pressed skin to skin. katsuki then moves your face up to give you a kiss while he moans into your mouth.

he doesn't pull out right away, staying nestled close, softening inside while his arms wrap around your back now.

"better than any damn grocery run," he rasps with a smug grin, kissing your forehead lazily. you hum in agreement as you pant, content with your bodies still tangled and warm as he’s peppering lazy kisses on you. “…don’t complain tomorrow when you’re dragging your feet, okay?” he adds, with a small chuckle.

ᝰ.ᐟ a/n 💬: this is pretty lore accurate, it’s so hot outside nowadays and the weather is bipolar. release me. im sweaty.

[dykiri]

reader's birthday with bf!izuku

wc:500

the clock read "12:00 am" when you first opened your eyes. you hadn't even been asleep for 2 hours before you were kissed awake by your green haired, freckled boyfriend of a few years.

he had pressed his lips to you cheek, forehead, and temple before you finally stirred with a light grumble of confusion, opening your eyes to a small flame atop a green wax candle and your boyfriend ginning as bright as he could with it being midnight.

below the candle lies a sweet vanilla cupcake from your favorite bakery that he had gotten right before it closed for the evening. a smile was stretching across your lips as you had realized what was happening.

"happy birthday sweet girl" izuku whispered in that giddy tone that just screamed he was excited for whatever reaction he expected you to have.

you hadn't even remembered that it was your birthday. sure, if you were asked you'd likely remember that it was upcoming but your birthday has never been the highest priority on your list. you never minded celebrating once izuku came along though.

grinned lips parting, you rhetorically mumbled "hey it is my birthday isn't it," in that sleepy, sluggish tone he's so familiar with.

"here blow," he coaxed, you lifting your head to put out the flame.

"good," he praised, removing the candle and setting it aside. peeling down the paper, he moved the treat closer to your mouth. prompting you to try it.

receiving the memo, you take a bite. you hum with pleasure, remembering every other 'special occasion' that you had that very treat on. the warm vanilla flavor tasting like comfortable memories.

" 's it good?" he endearingly questions, hoping for the same answer as always.

"it is. thank you baby," you say, bringing your hand up to hook your fingers under his jaw and bringing your lips to his.

"anything for you," he says after the chaste kiss, pecking your lips once more.

you stare with a fond grin for a moment before tugging his arm and saying "now come to bed, i'm sleepy." playful sternness is laced in your voice but he doesn't miss the fond tone of pure love thrown into the mix.

"yes ma'am" izuku obeys. rushing to the kitchen to place the desert in the refrigerator, he makes his way back to your shared room and pulls the covers back. climbing in, his arms wrap around you and lips press a sweet kiss to your temple, muttering sweet nothings as you fall back asleep.

maybe your birthday is indeed a pretty big deal. it is to izuku anyways, and who are you to tell him it isn't?

bday special for my bsf!! love u quinny <3

[dykiri]

Hey there! I wanted to let you know that I reported your account when I meant to report someone else. It was a mistake, and I hope it didn’t cause any issues. I received a ticket from Tumblr and can share it with you if you’d like I'm not able to send you a message right now, though, and I’m not sure why.

ahh it's no worries!! i don't believe tumblr thinks i did anything, i haven't received any alerts or anything so no need for the ticket! thank you for offering and thank you for letting me know!! have a great day!!! <3

[foxyteeth]

RUDE! (╥﹏╥)

IN WHICH you and your ex boyfriend get partnered up for a statistics project

includes k. bakugou

cw: college au, kys jokes, arguing, cursing, bakugou does not have it in him to be mean to u.... crickets, might be ooc i havent wrote for him in 4-ish years, for his bday so its a little rushed..

a/n: happy birthday katsuki!

[dykiri]

"hhnmgh" katsuki grumbles, deep in slumber.

today read april 20th, meaning his birthday has finally come. he's never been the kind of guy to make a big thing out of his birthday, in fact, he's always questioned why they were so loudly celebrated. that was until he was brought today.

it was around 8am on a saturday, he was fast asleep, but seemed to have started stirring ever so slightly, as you were planting light kisses on his temple, cheeks, and nose in hopes to wake him up.

"happy birthday honey" you said in a 'low in volume but high in pitch' voice, laying right on top of him with his hand loosely tossed around your waste.

"hmngh" he grumbles even more, squinting his eyes from the sun beaming through the blinds.

you let out a small sound of amusement at his initial reaction of light, finding it cute how he squints and squirms in such a sleepy manner.

you kiss him again and he tries to bind the little grin forming on his face with his hand, stretching with a groan.

"mornin baby" he rasps, still keeping his eyes tiny and squinted.

"morning birthday boy" you smile, still quiet in the haze of the morning.

by now, he's gathered just the right amount of energy to take his hand and hook his finger under your chin, gently leading your lips to his.

he pulls away from the chaste kiss with a grin.

"you hungry?" you question.

"what, you gon' cook?" he asks with amusement.

"yeah!!" you say.

"watchin you cook all the time taught me a few things, plus who screws up bacon and eggs?" you carry on.

"well shit, if you really think you got it be my guest"

you grin, pecking his lips again before rolling off of him.

katsuki lays in bed for a moment longer, thinking about how he has a new found sense of appreciation for his birthday. maybe his day isn't so bad when he has someone who loves him to celebrate it with.

happy birthday katsuki, i long for u everyday

[shiggyhatesme]

exactly where i wanna be

pairings & cw: k. bakugou x high-maintenance reader, f!reader, prohero timeskip, reader is a liiiitle ditsy, language, established relationship, diva alert

synopsis: so what you're a little bitchy, and maybe you don't think very hard, and maybee you need him to do everything for you...oh yeah you're a princess. its his fault though, and he loves it over here

wc: 3.6k

"baby."

you yelled from the bathroom counter, legs crisscross applesauce as you touched up your mascara, your silk robe sliding off one shoulder.

no response.

"babyyy." you drawled out, a bit louder this time, still fully focused on your own reflection.

you tore your gaze away from the mirror looking to your left at the doorway, nothing. the audacity. your cheeks puffed out as you sighed and got ready to yell again.

"KATSU—"

"what the hell woman?!" his voice raised as he whips around the doorframe, brows furrowed.

you instantly smile upon seeing him, turning back towards the mirror and finishing up your makeup. "baby i think the lighting in here is ugly. we need the warm lights, these are giving hospital. and you know how i feel about white light."

he pinches the bridge of his nose and observes you through the mirror. "you called me in here, no, screamed for me to come in here about the fuckin' lights?"

you stopped applying your powder to look at him inquisitively, your brow raised as if the answer was obvious.

"uh duh. it's making me look ugly, i almost took all of my makeup off and went back to bed."

he leaned against the doorframe fascinated. not just because there was a beautiful hot mess of a woman sitting on his counter, but also by the shit that comes out of your mouth before nine in the morning.

god—he wouldn't have it any other way.

"yes princess i'll fix it for ya tomorrow." he walked behind you and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, looking down at the watch on his wrist. "you have fifteen minutes. pick it up."

you turned toward him with wide eyes, holding your arms out so he could put you back down on the ground. "but i need my coffee first!"

katsuki chuckled as he placed you on your feet, walking away without another word before coming back with a delicious looking iced coffee in his hand.

"i was midway through making the damn thing when you started screaming."

you took it and scanned it, your eyes flicking between him and the cup.

"did you put sugar in it?"

"yeah."

"enough?"

"jesus christ."

you tap your foot looking up at him. "that wasn't an answer."

he squints at you, annoyed in the way only he can be when he's secretly entertained. "yes, brat. enough."

you consider him carefully, like a queen deciding whether or not a knight is worth sparing.

then: "okay."

you happily sip the coffee as you walk past him into your “shared” (because 90% of it was your clothes, shoes, and bags) walk-in closet rummaging through clothes with one hand and drink in the other. your mouth literally never leaving the straw. he watches from the bed, the tiny domestic performance of it was so stupidly dear to him that he'd rather die than say it out loud.

thats the thing.

everyone else thinks he's patient with you. as if he's suffering nobly. as if loving you is some kind of endurance sport.

they don't get it.

they don't understand that katsuki likes this. loves it, actually.

loves the sound of your voice when it gets whiny and put-upon. loves the way you drift around his space like it was built for you. loves that you complain to him with absolute confidence that he’ll either fix it, replace it, or tell you to quit bitching and then fix it anyway.

he likes that you only act this way because you know, down to your bones, that he can hold it.

that he won't embarrass you for wanting.

that he won't make you feel stupid for liking pretty things, expensive things, soft things. that he won't call you too much when he is, in fact, the one who made you this way.

oh he spoiled you rotten. toothache rotten. that part is entirely his fault.

you used to reach for the cheaper option out of habit, used to say no too quickly, used to look at price tags before you looked at whether you even liked something.

not anymore.

now, if you pause in front of a shop window even a second too long, katsuki notices.

if you say, "its cute, but—" he's already opening the door.

if you mention it, in passing, that you've run low on the serum you like, it appears in the bathroom the next day in doubles.

he got mean about it, weirdly. not mean mean, but katsuki mean.

the first time he found out you'd been rationing the stupidly expensive perfume he bought you for your birthday because you "didn't want to use it up too fast," he stared at you so hard you nearly laughed.

then he took the bottle from your hand, put it back on the vanity, opened something on his phone right in front of you, and bought three more.

you blinked at him from your spot on the bed. "thats excessive."

he hadn't even looked up. "no its fuckin' not."

"i don't need four bottles of perfume."

"then use it more."

"katsuki."

he'd finally lifted his eyes, sharp and flat and impossible to argue with. "i bought it because i like it on you, stop acting like you're gonna get in trouble for enjoying your own shit."

and of course, because he was an insufferable asshole incapable of letting a moment sit without making it a little hostile, he added, "you're spoiled. try acting like it."

so yes—this is his fault.

every silk pillowcase, every hair appointment, every shopping bag, and "baby, can you carry this?" and "katsuki, i don't like the towels here," and also "can we leave, i hate the vibe."

his fault. not that he'd change a fucking thing.

you placed your coffee on the little island in your closet, holding up two pairs of heels and turning toward him.

"versace or dior today?" puffing up one of your cheeks as you wiggled the two options in your hands. an extremely hard decision actually.

he rolled his eyes before getting up from the bed and making his way toward you, shaking his head as he walked.

"remember the last time you wore the versace? you lasted twenty minutes and i had to carry you. the dior is more casual, good for the breakfast, which i'll remind you we need to be at soon."

you nodded in agreement as you put the other heels back, slipping off your robe and stepping into the short white dress that you had picked out all by yourself. you looked up at him as you slid into your heels.

"you're so smart baby, what would i do without you?"

he shot an amused look before kissing your forehead and walking out, "you still have those clips in your hair by the way."

he especially loves it when you text him a million updates on your day while he's working.

you: my nail appointment ran long and now im starveddddd you: the place downstairs put pickles on my sandwich. they know i hate pickles. this feels targeted. you: can you come home with those like little fruit tarts from that bakery i like? you: omg not the big ones btw. the little ones. the big ones are ugly.

he likes reading them in the backseat of a car on the way to interviews, sporting a fresh bruise on his jaw, feeling the way his whole face goes weirdly soft before having to physically control it so no one notices.

suki: eat something real first suki: i'll handle the sandwich place suki: yeah

he loves that you call him immediately after and say, "why did you sound so mean in your texts? are you being sassy with me?"

"you text like a menace. im at work."

"you can still be sweeter."

"you're alive and fed and wearin' shit i bought ya. thats sweetness."

your cute little sigh through the phone warms his heart so much. "barely."

"you're annoyin'."

"you adore me."

a pause. a little hush. like the whole world knows better than to interrupt.

then he says, every single time, with no hesitation at all, "yeah."

he doesn't think you're a brat when you complain, he just thinks you're honest. saying the things that everyone else swallows. some call it no filter, no social cues, or even blunt.

katsuki likes the directness of it. likes that with you, there's no passive-aggressive little games, no pretending nothing's wrong until it curdles into resentment.

if you're upset, he knows.

if you want something, he knows.

if someone's pissed you off, oh he definitely fucking knows. just like tonight.

all it took was once glance at you the second he walked into the restaurant, spotting you already seated at the table with his friends. you're gorgeous, obviously. you're always gorgeous. tonight its in a slinky little dress that probably cost more than most people's rent, hair glossy, jewelry delicate, makeup perfect. oh but your expression is flat in a way that tells him you're two minor inconveniences away from homicide.

kirishima sees him first. "bro!"

"hey," kaminari says, grinning. "your girl's been bullying the waiter."

"i have not," you say, before katsuki even reaches the table. "i corrected him. there's a difference."

"you made him bring back three wine glasses," mina says, a little too delighted.

"because they were spotty," you reply. "am i supposed to drink expensive wine out of a fogged-up glass like i've lost all self respect?"

katsuki pulls out your chair a little and leans down to kiss the side of your head before he sits. "you eat yet?"

your whole face changes when you look at him, not necessarily softer. you never became some watered down version of yourself around him. more like the tension in you finds the exact place its allowed to land.

"no." you say. "i was waiting."

his hand settles over the back of your neck for a second, thumb brushing the skin there. "good."

across the table, sero makes a face. "that was weirdly hot."

"shut the hell up," katsuki barks, but his attention is already back on you. "what happened?"

you exhale dramatically. "everything."

"specifics, baby."

"the hostess tried to seat us by the kitchen. the menus were sticky. the waiter kept calling me sweetheart."

his eyes sharpened at that. "which waiter?"

you touch his wrist. "don't start."

"which one?"

"katsuki."

he looks at you, and you give him that look right back—the one that says you are perfectly capable of handling yourself and also maybe a tiny bit pleased that he's instantly ready to commit a felony on your behalf.

mina is trying not to laugh. "see, this is what i'm saying. you enable her."

katsuki reachers for the water glass in front of you, checks it like it personally offended him, then flags down another server without even raising his voice.

"this one's dirty," he says. "bring her a clean glass. and another menu."

the server blinks. "of course."

he turns back to the table. silence stretching thick.

kaminari weakly says, "you don't even look embarrassed."

katsuki frowns at him. "why the hell would i be embarrassed?"

"because—" kami vaguely gestures at you. "because she's being...y'know."

you raise your brows this time. "go on."

"specific." kirishima finished diplomatically, doing his very best to avoid conflict.

katsuki leans back in his chair, one arm draped behind yours. "and?"

"and thats hard to deal with," sero says.

"for you."

and there it was. that right there. you had to hide your smile in your hand.

he never asks you to be less.

never gives you that look, the one that says don't make this a thing, don't be difficult don't be too much right now. he meets you where you are. he'll adjust accordingly, and he'll make room.

because to him, loving you is not some great act of patience. it's not a burden he shoulders because there's a shiny award at the end.

you are the reward.

every specific little preference, every dramatic sigh, eye rolls when something is beneath your standards. every exacting opinion and offended pout and "be serious" look you send him when the world is not arranged to your liking.

its all you. and he loves all of you.

dinner goes better after that.

he doesn't even bother letting you order, or even asking what you want because he already knows. he switches your fork when it has a water spot you don't like. he pushes his drink toward you when yours is running low. when your heel suddenly catches against the chair leg and you mutter, irritated, he drops a hand to your ankle and rubs once, absent and grounding like your discomfort belongs to him too.

nobody else seems to know what to do with the way you are.

but he does.

later, in the car, you sit with one leg folded under you, your heels kicked off the moment you had entered. also something katsuki predicted would happen when you asked for outfit advice. the city outside the windows blurs in gold and white. katsuki drives one-handed, the other resting heavy on your knee.

you stare at him for a while.

he notices, obviously.

"you're doing that thing."

"what thing?"

"staring at me like you're about to either say somethin' emotional or start a fight."

"mmm maybe both."

he huffs a laugh.

streetlight spills over the hard line of his jaw, catches in the pale ash blonde of his hair. older now, broader, more settled into himself. confidence without the performance strain of it. he doest need to prove himself anymore. especially not to you.

"do i embarrass you?"

he looks over, eyes wide like you just said the most ridiculous thing in the world, which is also insane to say as ridiculous things fly out of your mouth every day. "the hell are you talkin' about?"

you look out the window.

the thing is—you know what people think of you. that you're spoiled, dramatic, materialistic, kinda mean.

and okay, maybe you are spoiled. because katsuki saw what made your life easier and prettier and softer, and instead of calling you too much for wanting it, he made it so you never even had to ask. he booked the hard to get reservations, the spontaneous flights, replaced those cheap sheets with the ones you liked. he memorized your orders, your dress size, which jewelry you liked for all day wear.

he built an entire life around your comfort like it was the most natural thing in the world. so yes, maybe now, years later, you complain a little more. maybe your standards are impossible for anyone who isn't him.

you're only like this, though, because he made the world feel safe enough to be particular in.

you didn't have to shrink with him.

you got bigger. brighter. needier in the way flowers are needy for sun.

your throat tightens a little.

"i know i'm annoying," you mutter.

his entire body language changes. "who said that?"

"no one."

"bullshit."

you sigh. "i just know."

katsuki stops at the red light and turns fully to look at you, like really look at you.

"listen to me," he says, low and flat and dripping with certainty. "you're not annoyin'."

you give him a look. your look.

"i complain all the time."

"so?"

"im kinda mean."

"you're picky."

"you can't say i'm not difficult."

he shrugs one shoulder and the light turns green, but he doesn't move for half a second because this apparently matter more than the honking car behind him.

"you are difficult," he says finally.

your chest sinks.

"—and i like that."

you blink. he drives forward, expression set, like he didn't just casually rearrange your entire internal organ system.

"you know how many people in this world are boring as fuck?" he goes on. "how many people expect you to make yourself smaller so they can feel comfortable bein' mediocre around you?"

your eyes sting a little, annoyingly so.

katsuki continues, voice rough and sure. "you got opinions, you got taste, you know what you want. you don't sit there smilin' through dumb shit just so other people can feel better about givin' you less than you deserve."

you swallow hard.

"and yeah," he says, glancing over, "you're a pain in the ass sometimes."

you laugh wetly, because of course he'd say it like that.

"but you're my pain in the ass." his thumb strokes once over your knee. "exactly where i want you."

tears slip freely now before you can stop them.

katsuki notices immediately and groans. "ah, hell, stop it woman."

"i hate you," you whisper.

"no, you don't."

"you made me cry in the car. my mascara is probably runny. and my nose is gonna be snotty."

he digs a tissue out of the console with one hand, passes it you you without looking. "you'll survive."

you dab under your eyes carefully. "i look pretty when i cry don't i?"

he snorts. "there she is."

you're mostly recovered by the time you both make it home. mostly.

enough to resume normal routine, which means standing in the entryway while Katsuki kneels to unbuckle the straps of your heels because you've declared your feet "too emotionally exhausted" to do it yourself.

he glances up at you from where he's crouched, beautiful ruby eyes meeting your own. "emotionally exhausted."

"yes."

"from sitting at dinner and being hot?"

"from enduring the public, baby."

he hums like this is a valid medical explanation.

there are men out there who would feel emasculated by this, maybe. by kneeling for a woman who complains about dirty wine glasses and insists on fresh flowers in the apartment every week and refuses to carry anything heavier than her own phone.

but he looks like a king from where he is. looks like worship doesn't diminish him whatsoever, looks like devotion—when done right—is power.

"what?" he asks.

"i love you."

his expression shifts—small, but devastating. a little surprise, even now. not because he doubts it. just simply because it still gets him, every time.

"yeah?" he says softly.

you hum in response.

you smooth a hand over the front of his shirt. "even though you're kinda bossy."

he quirks a brow. "kinda?"

"and mean."

"to everyone else."

"and occasionally to me."

"you like it."

you sigh dramatically. "unfortunately."

the corner of his mouth lifts. he slides both hands under your thighs and picks you up like you weigh nothing. you let out a small squeal and tighten your arms around him, indignant on instinct.

"your feet are emotionally exhausted," he says, deadpan, already carrying you down the hall. "wouldn't want you sufferin'."

you narrow your eyes. "you're making fun of me."

"a little."

"you're so rude to the woman you love."

he pushes the bedroom door with his shoulder. "and yet.."

and yet.

thats the whole thing, really.

and yet he knows the exact serum you're running low on without checking. and yet he moved your charger to your side of the bed because you always forget it in the living room. and yet he can identify the difference between your annoyed sigh and your actually upset one from another room. and yet he takes the pins out of your hair one by one when you're too tired.

and yet he still looks at you like none of this is charity. like loving you isn't labor. like you are not too much.

like you are, some fuckin' how, exactly enough to fill every empty place inside his fiery self.

he sets you on the bed and starts unfastening his watch, but not before unzipping the back of your dress because he knew you'd ask him to.

"you really mean it?" you say, because the feeling you have right now is too big to leave alone.

he glances over.

"when you say that," you add. "that im where you want me?"

katsuki stills.

then he steps back between your knees where you sit on the edge of the mattress, braces his big hands on either side of you, and lowers just enough that you can't look anywhere but him.

"there's nowhere else i want you," he says.

and you hate how much it affects you.

your fingers curl in the front of his shirt. "even when i'm being awful?"

his mouth twitches. "especially then."

and you both just sit there for a minute, eyes flickering between each others, back and forth.

then he kisses you. not a nasty sloppy kiss like he needs you desperately. the kind of kiss that says he knows, he understands, and he chose this. the kind of kiss that says every spoiled little thing about you fits into his scarred hands like it was made for them.

you melt into it, because of course you do.

you know he's the love of your life. your love in every life.

and you both get ready for bed in your normal routines. he hands you every serum and product you need without you having to ask. but don't be mistaken, because whether you realize it or not, you do all of these things for him too.

you do it as you put his watch back in the case since he always leaves it lying around. you do it as you mindlessly pull out the pants he likes to wear to bed every night. you do it as you grab a water from the mini fridge since he chugs one down every night before bed. you do it as you hang up his hero suit for tomorrow, already having cleaned it earlier.

you do it because you love him so damn much.

and you love the way he loves you.

and katsuki is exactly where he wants to be.

with you in his bed, in his shirt, asking for ridiculous velvet hangers after nearly crying over how loved you are.

his beautiful, impossible girl.

his favorite pain in the ass.

his princess.

i’ve been getting inspired by these like bitchy reader fics i’ve been seeing so had to do one myself (a lil different) this was the cutest thing i’ve ever written omg also reader is soooooo valid id be the exact same way if i was rich, unemployed, and obviously dating katsuki bakugou. love her.

[dykiri]

kirishima loves your kisses more than anything

sexual or not, he just can't help but get so warm and giddy whenever you press your lips anywhere onto his body

a cheek kiss when he gets a bit jealous in public always puts him at ease.

a kiss to the top of his forehead whenever he's feeling sick or anxious clears his mind.

a chaste kiss to the jaw whenever you're being used as his personal weighted blanket makes him melt and whenever you press your lips to the top of his head while he's laying half asleep on your chest? that just makes him fall in love with you all over again.

he's never acted like he's not obsessed with them-- your kisses, in fact he's shameless to admit how clingy he is when it comes to them.

it's a late sunday morning. you and your redhead have been awake for coming on an hour now, just talking about everything and nothing all at once. he's stretched out across the mattress with you on top of him, both of you lazily tangled in the satin sheets.

mindlessly through quiet, mumbled chatter, you plant an innocent kiss to your boyfriends lower cheek-- right next to the corner of his mouth.

his mouth turns into a sleepy, sluggish grin, turning his love-filled eyes onto your gaze.

"again?" he mumbles with those sweet eyes you can never deny.

you smile with all the genuine affection you could muster, complying without a complaint in the world.

with that you plant another kiss-- a bit higher this time.

his grin only stretches out farther and larger than before.

"again." he says, his voice lighter and full of sleepy, natural adoration.

you kiss him again.

now his grin has gotten toothy.

"again."

you give him another.

"again"

you give him another.

by now, his cheeks are flushed scarlet. heat radiating off of every single spot you've planted your lips onto and more.

he doesn't stop requesting for more, and he doesn't plan to. the kisses you plant pile onto each other time after time after time, his voice getting more and more sluggish until it's almost incoherent.

oops! you've kissed your lover boy to sleep! he's snoring slightly with steady breaths, napping the day away just a bit more.

watching his chest rise and fall is almost hypnotizing, making a nap cuddled on your big warm man sound better and better.

running your fingers through his deep red hair a few more times, you finally stop staring and tuck your head into the crook of his neck. letting out a sigh, you drift off to sleep thinking about how you're exactly where you want to be.

fin.

pls follow me

[powerchairpunk]

you’re in his dms? okay, well, im on top of him. we’re not fucking he just likes the pressure

[itsr3driot]

mha boys react ── .✦ sitting on their lap

characters included — i. midoriya, k. bakugou, e. kirishima (maybe making a pt two with more)

i. midoriya

izuku’s sat peacefully on the couch, watching some dumb sitcom that he’s hardly even paying attention to anymore, and you see the perfect opportunity to fluster him. casually, you walk up to the couch and step right in front of izuku’s vision, casting a dark shadow over his face as the light spills from behind you. you playfully grab his shoulders with a knowing smirk and tenderly massage at the tense muscles, each movement deliberate as you lean slightly down. “oh! y-y/n, i uh…w-what are you doing…?” he nervously sputters, avoiding all eye contact, his face growing noticeably flushed. 

before he can get out another word, you plop right down on his lap, the movement swift yet calculated, toying with his already fraying restraint. izuku lets out a surprised groan at the sudden pressure, eyes squeezing shut, greedy hands flying to grip your hips. you hear as his breath turns shallow and teasingly “adjust yourself” in his lap once again, grinding down into him as you giggle softly. “f-fuck y/n, you can’t just—mmph!” he attempts to stutter out a protest before you move again, this time quicker, needier, wanting to see just how far he’d let you go before giving in. 

you stand partially, but only momentarily—just long enough to spin around so that you are now sitting on his lap, facing him. you watched as he desperately bit down on his lip, using every last ounce of strength in him to stay calm and collected as you methodically slipped your arms over his shoulders, breath fanning hot over his neck. you leaned in, chest pushing up against his own, littering warm, steamy kisses over his neck and jaw while you relentlessly ground down into him—pace torturously slow. izuku whimpered softly into your ear, hands roaming up and down your body, pulling you impossibly closer. bunching your shirt slightly at your waist, he trailed scarred fingers across your warm skin, each whisper of contact sending shivers down your spine. 

gently grabbing a hold of your hair, izuku pulled you away from his neck just barely, only enough to finally look into your eyes with a newfound hunger that made your heart flutter in your chest. “hah—you feel what you’re doing to me baby? you look so beautiful right now—” izuku stammers out between breathless whimpers, hips bucking into your own with a needy force that drags a gasp from your throat; he’s fully hard now. 

he desperately grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, tongue slipping wet and warm into your mouth, smoothing over every curve as though to commit it to memory. breathy moans and stifled whimpers mingled in the space between you, movements growing faster, needier. “f-fuck—don’t s-stop—mmph!” izuku whined, gripping onto your frame like his life depended on it as he neared the edge. with one final thrust, you both saw stars—head falling limp to his chest as you both came down from your high. izuku pressed a soft kiss into your hair, arms wrapped around your shaking body as his hands rub comforting circles over your back. he held you like it was a promise, gentle and certain, grounding you back into reality. “love you so much baby,” he whispers against your ear, warmth in his tone still lingering as his breath finally begins to even out.

k. bakugou

katsuki was out on a mission for an entire week—and somehow, every day felt longer than the last. you called and texted daily, counting hours till he’d finally be back, but it wasn’t enough—you needed him, his presence, his warmth, his touch. a restless energy buzzed beneath your skin, a burning awareness of his absence that made every moment without him close to miserable. by the end of the week, your entire body ached with a hunger only he could soothe. as you sat on the couch, watching a show that hardly interested you anymore, you heard the click of the front door and felt your heart flutter in your chest. “katsukiiiiii, i thought i was gonna die, i missed you so bad!” you exclaimed, running into his arms instantly as he chuckled. “i know—missed you too, baby.”

as he settled back into the quiet rhythm of your home, time slowed a bit and you finally began to relax—eating dinner and cuddling up on the couch to watch some dumb romcom he heavily protested before finally giving in to you. the movie dragged on and you felt yourself growing bored, restless, longing for something more than just lying against his chest. you lifted your head from his shoulder and gazed into his eyes with a smile—attempting to hide the plans you had running through your head. you slowly shifted on the couch until your knees now held you, hands gripping at his shoulders. “fuck are you doing—” katsuki questions, before being abruptly cut short by the weight of your hips straddling onto his own. he groans quietly, hands instantly flying to grip your waist. “missed me that bad, huh?” he teases, gaze dark and hungry, hands kneading at the skin on your waist with a sort of desperation that nearly killed you.

he simply stared into your eyes for a moment, one hand trailing up your spine to thread its fingers through the back of your hair, smirk melting into something warmer. it was as though he was just soaking in your presence, the closeness between you—the shared, quiet affection that brought a warmth to his chest that he’d never care to admit. he slowly leaned in for a tender kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth within seconds. you began to grind down on his lap, movements starting off painfully slow as though to purposefully torture him—dragging out every second until he could hardly stand it any longer. 

growing needy and impatient, he sharply thrusts upwards into you, drawing a soft whimper from your lips as your head falls to his shoulder, katsuki chuckling slightly in response. “think you can just fuckin’ tease me like that?” he growls against your ear with a dark smirk, warm lips kissing down your neck till he reaches your collarbone.

you take this as a challenge, grinding down quicker, harder, till that cocky, arrogant attitude of his finally begins to crack. his chuckles falter with the sudden change, slipping into a desperate whimper he had no intention of letting out. his hands stay planted at your waist, gripping as though forcefully trying to make you stop, as he almost cries out, “s-shit—wait s-stop—i’m gonna—” he comes with a loud groan, shivering slightly as he throws his head back in pleasure. you follow suit, pressing your full weight into his chest as he brings his arms to wrap you in a warm, grounding embrace. “you’re something else,” he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss into your hair and tracing comforting circles along your back as you come down from your high.

e. kirishima

 your entire day had been swallowed by one mission after another—endless patrols that blurred together and a bottomless stack of paperwork that drained you dry. as you finally began to head home, you realized you’d barely even caught a glimpse of eijirou the entire day. you felt utterly exhausted and painfully aware of how much you’d been craving his presence, his touch. as you arrived home, you spotted him lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone and looking bored out of his mind. “eijiiii,” you whined from the front room, lazily throwing your bags on the floor and taking off your shoes. 

his face seemed to light up at the sound of your voice, a dopey grin smearing across his lips as he replied, “hey baby! i missed you today.” you simply groaned in response, trudging over to the couch where he sat and wrapping your arms around him from behind, burying your face into his shirt. “tired?” he chuckled, landing a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “mhm.” you stayed there for a moment, soaking in his presence, his warmth. after a bit, you slowly made your way around the couch and sat right down on his lap, legs straddling his own, foreheads nearly touching. a surprised groan escaped eijirou’s throat as you moved, gaze hungrily locking on yours. “ngh—so that’s what this is about, huh?” he growls, voice low and impossibly tempting.

your arms slid around his shoulders and neck, clasping your hands behind him. eijirou looked into your eyes with a strange yet ever-so inviting blend of need and love—speckles of longing flickering across pools of deep affection. he held that same gaze long enough to make your heart flutter in your chest as a playful smirk tugged at your lips. you leaned into him without a second thought, lips colliding with his in an almost frantic fashion. his large, greedy hands trailed up your spine, one gripping your waist and the other tangling into your hair, closing every gap between your bodies. he groaned into your mouth as you slid your tongue past his lips, feeling him smile against you. 

“fuck baby—you’re something else,” he chuckles, lips parting from your mouth to latch onto your neck, sucking and licking like theres no tomorrow. you moan in response, grinding down harder on kirishima’s lap and leaning your head against his shoulder. you feel how hard he’s gotten by now and it only makes you want him even more—one of his hands sneakily sliding downwards from your back to grip your ass and pull you sharply down into his lap. he moans loudly at the sensation, lips never once leaving your skin. 

you whimper against his ear, grinding into him harder, faster, desperate for sweet relief from the burning below your stomach that only coils tighter and tighter with each passing moment. eijirou finds that sensitive spot at the base of your neck, biting down with enough force to drag another whimper from your lips, yet gentle enough to not draw blood. “you sound so pretty for me baby—mmph—c-can’t believe you’re all mine,” he breathes against your skin, voice low, dangerous. you giggle softly, moving quicker as he finally lifts his head to look you in the eyes, his gaze soft affection intertwined with a hunger you can’t deny.

with one final push of your hips into his, he comes—head falling back out of pleasure as beads of sweat trickle down from his forehead, wet spot leaking through his sweatpants. you follow soon after, breath uneven and shaky as your entire weight falls against him. eijirou wraps you in his arms, his touch warm, reverent, and impossibly gentle—as though you're something fragile, delicate. “i got you baby, i got you,” eijirou whispers softly against your slightly disheveled hair, pressing a tender kiss to your head.

guys i don't usually write smut/nsfw, PLEASSEEE lmk if this sucks or not heh

[dykiri]

NUTTT

[itsr3driot]

𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 ── .✦ 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 [𝟏.𝟕𝙠 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨]

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ─ 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

evening settles itself over U.A. as you begin to wind down for the night—a slow, quiet silence creeping into shadows cast by the moonlight like ink drifting through water. the windows overlooking the courtyard glow faintly with the last traces of daylight, pale blue melting into lavender and dissolving into the gentle hush of approaching night. inside, the common room is still except for the low hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the faint, rhythmic sigh of the heater. it’s like the world has exhaled, like you’ve stepped into the calm between heartbeats.

izuku is already there. you notice him before he notices you—observing his quiet presence from behind a doorframe. he sits at the far end of the long couch, head bent over an open notebook, his posture soft and slightly slouched in a way you rarely see during training or class. a kind of unguarded peace surrounds him here, as though the dim room and the warm lamplight have gently untangled the weight he near constantly carries.

the golden lamp at the table beside the couch spills its glow across him, catching the green in his hair, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the slow methodical movement of his pen as he jots something down. in this light, he looks sort of delicate and fragile in a strange sense—the edges of his usually strong, heroic presence softening and melting into something more vulnerable. 

there’s a teapot sat in front of him, steam curling upward in thin, lazy ribbons that disappear into the shadows just as quick as they’d arrived. he’s placed two cups on the table, though one sits untouched, waiting.

your cup.

izuku doesn’t hear you enter at first, too absorbed in his own little world to pay mind to the one outside him. you take a moment—just a few seconds—to take in the scene before stepping into it; the radiating warmth, the quiet stillness, the boy who’s feared and respected on the battlefield yet in this moment looks so gentle you almost hesitate to disturb the air around him. when he finally looks up, it’s not with surprise, but with something softer, something like quiet relief.

“hey,” he says with a tender smile, voice barely above a whisper, as though speaking any louder might break the fragile peace settling between you. you return the greeting, matching your volume to his own. and then words fade; they aren’t needed.

you sit beside him—not too close at first, but close enough that the cushion shifts beneath both your weights in one shared movement, that the fabric of his sleeve brushes lightly against yours when he adjusts his pen. close enough that your warmth and his begin to mingle in the small space between you until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins. the room seems to shrink around you.

you take your notebook out, the rustle of pages loud in the stillness of the room. izuku glances at you, then away too quickly, like the closeness has startled something inside him. but there’s no awkwardness between you, just a soft awareness that settles over the two of you like a warm blanket on a cool winter morning. 

its clear you’ve both grown a little too comfortable with orbiting each other so closely for “just friends” to stay an honest description—the thought of something more sitting quietly between you, too big, too tender, too frightening to touch just yet.

you open your notes; he follows promptly, and just like that, the quiet work begins. not because either of you are particularly focused on studying tonight, but because the label lines a gentle structure to the moment, something to hold onto while the silence grows richer, warmer, sweeter.

your pens scratch at the surface of your notebooks, papers ruffling, sips of tea punctuating the soft rhythm. but beneath it all, there’s a pulse—subtle, steady, and insistent, a gravity pulling the two of you closer.

it happens gradually. at first, your knees brush lightly when izuku shifts his textbook closer. the touch is nothing—barely a whisper of contact—but heat blooms from the point of it and spreads, slow and golden, through the quiet space between your breaths. he pauses just for a heartbeat—you don’t move away and neither does he.

you sense izuku watching—not directly or obviously, but in a quiet, almost curious way, like he’s trying to study your every movement and expression. his breath catches once, nearly imperceptible, but enough to send a soft shiver through the quiet. he reaches for his tea at the same moment you reach for your notebook, and your fingertips graze his. it was a simple contact—skin against skin for the barest flicker of a second—but it felt like a spark, a quiet, warm one meant to light lanterns, not wildfires.

you don’t apologize for the brief moment, he doesn’t either. it passes quickly, like a fallen leaf fluttering with the wind, but something stays behind in its wake—a soft imprint, a subtle shift in the air, an unspoken agreement that the closeness is no longer an accident.

time spills gently forward. the pages of your notebook fill slowly, though neither of you could later recall what you studied. the words blur, the lines soften, your focus narrowing not on the information in front of you, but on the boy beside you who smells faintly of green tea and fabric softener and something warm you can’t quite name.

you don’t look at him often and he doesn’t either, but when you do—when your eyes lift from the pages and meet his—you find a softness there that wasn’t present before. the lamplight catches the gold in his irises, and he holds your gaze for a breath longer than usual, a silent tether stretching between you.

he looks away first, but his hand doesn’t. it stays close to yours—very close—resting on the couch cushion between you, palm open, fingers relaxed, as though he has forgotten to be cautious around you, forgotten to guard the parts of him that feel too vulnerable, too fragile for daylight. your heart shifts in your chest.

at some point, you start to forget what you came to study. the pages blur into soft shapes, the ink seems irrelevant. the only thing that feels clear, grounded, real is the slow, rhythmic brush of izuku’s breath beside you. without much of a conscious decision—you lean closer. not heavily but just enough that your shoulder presses fully against his. he’s warm and steady, the closeness feels right, natural. his breath stutters for a second, the rise of his chest pausing before resuming its rhythm.

he doesn’t move away.

your fingers lie side by side now—his and yours—so close that the faint warmth of his skin drifts over yours like an invitation whispered against the back of your hand. there are no words; none are needed.

no language could capture the quiet trembling that rises through you when he tilts slightly to rest against your frame. no sentence is powerful enough to describe the way his presence presses deeper into your awareness with each passing second. no phrase could encompass the tender gravity building between the two of you as though the lamp’s glow is drawing your hearts together like moths to gentle heat.

silence becomes your shared language, breath becomes your dialogue.

the soft scrape of his pen against paper slows until it fades entirely. he sets it down. you don’t remember when you set yours down. all you remember is the way your hand shifts—barely more than a twitch—and how his shifts too, unthinking, mirroring the movement as though gravity itself has chosen the moment for you.

his fingers curl around yours—carefully, reverently, as though he is holding the hinge of a moment he has no intention of letting slip through his grasp. the warmth of his palm envelopes your own, steady and gentle and so honest it feels like standing in late-spring sunlight. his thumb rests softly against the side of your hand—not moving, simply resting there, as though absorbing the reality of your skin against his.

you feel him try to breathe evenly though he fails each time.

his hand tightens slightly around yours—not enough to startle, just enough to say he wants this, to tell you to stay. a quiet warmth unfurls through your chest, deeper and sweeter than anything you’d prepared for tonight. iit feels like something inside you—something small and guarded and quietly aching—has finally found a place soft enough to land.

you rest your head lightly against izuku’s shoulder. the movement is slow, giving him time to pull away if he wishes—but he doesn’t. he shifts only to make room for you, angling himself so your temple finds the steady rise and fall of his breath. his hands tighten around yours again—so subtle you might have missed it if not for the closeness.

outside the windows, night deepens. inside, the lamp burns low, a single pool of golden warmth holding the two of you in its soft embrace.

after what felt like hours, izuku finally speaks, but only barely. his voice is nearly a breath, a fragile thread of sound woven through the quiet.

“stay…?”

just one word—soft, uncertain, yet quietly hopeful. 

you squeeze his hand in answer, your thumb gently brushing his knuckles. he exhales—a trembling, disbelieving exhale that sounds like relief and gratitude and something too tender for language. you close your eyes, he does too

minutes pass though neither of you pay any mind to it. the tea cools, your notebooks lie forgotten upon the table. the rest of the dorms sink into sleep but not once do your hands separate. not as the lamplight grows faint, not as the weight of growing weariness threatens to pull you under. 

the ticking of the clock and hum of the heater fades into the night with every other outside noise like irrelevant static. you notice as izuku drifts further into slumber but don’t bother to wake him. it doesn’t matter in this moment—in an instance so tender, so gentle it feels wrong to disrupt.

and there, under the soft, golden lamplight, you could feel something—a warmth, a fondness, a love—finally unraveling into the hushed night. it may have been a little uncertain, but you knew it was real, vulnerable, something worth fighting for. and maybe, that could be okay.

guys i cant lie, i am NOT proud of this one im so so sorry if this sucks

[dykiri]

STAR FOR PRESIDENT BC WHATTTT how can she write like this pls❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[itsr3driot]

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙-𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 ── .✦ 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 [𝟏.𝟔𝙠 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨] 𝒕𝒘 - 𝒔𝒉

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 ─ 𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛-𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙥𝙨𝙚; 𝙠𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙚

some nights, the world feels too loud, yet you still feel far too quiet—like a match struck but never lit. nights where all the neon glow of the city outside your window seems to press against the dark like a heartbeat you can’t match, where the air itself feels thick with the weight of thoughts you can’t outrun. tonight is no different than any other—heavy, slow, soundless in a way that makes you feel like the world forgot you were supposed to be part of it. 

your room is dim, curtains half-drawn, the moon carving a thin line across your floor. the stillness is dangerous; you know it. you’ve known it all week, maybe longer—like a soft collapse at the center of your chest, a sickening sense that your mind is folding in on itself, again. you tried to breathe, to distract yourself, to convince yourself you’re okay, that you aren’t one gust of wind away from crumbling. but it doesn't keep the thoughts from circling throughout your head, relentless and never-ending.

you’re simply exhausted by how much it takes to just exist.

that urge hits you the same way it does every other time, not sharp or dramatic—a whisper, a familiar, cold coaxing into habits better left behind. it promises you comfort, swears to cease the pain, the sadness—though you know fully well it never will; it never does, anyways. you don’t want to listen, but you do anyway, fingers curling to grasp the familiar, shining blade sitting at your nightstand.

you sit on the edge of your bed with your hands trembling. everything feels distant, muffled, like you’re underwater and the surface is far above you, laughing and unreachable. it’s not about wanting to die, no—more of wanting the ache to quiet down for just a moment, wanting something loud enough to drown out the noise inside your skull.

the moment passes fast and quiet, without spectacle. 

for that split second, you think it’s gone silent, but it fades just as soon as it came. you were foolish to believe tonight would be different than any other.

warm, scarlet blood pools at the opening and slowly seeps down your wrist like flowing rivers of an unspoken aching. the sting makes you hiss just slightly, grasping the bedsheets beneath you so tight your knuckles go pale. 

shame rushes in like tidewater, filling your lungs, heavy and choking. you curl in on yourself as though to hide from the world outside you, ashamed and disgusted. your hands press to your face, breath shaking, blood running in vivid streaks of deep red down your arms. you didn’t want this. you never did. you promised yourself, you promised him. and the guilt hits harder than the pain ever could.

your vision blurs just as a quiet buzzing from your phone breaks your spiral, but you don’t check it, don’t pay any mind to it at all. you can’t bring yourself to. everything in you feels raw and exposed, like your nerves are too close to the surface, every thought an open wound. the silence in your room grows thick, suffocating, and you feel yourself shrinking inside it, folding smaller and smaller in the dim corner where you’ve curled up, hoping you might somehow disappear.

minutes pass, maybe more. time becomes slow and heavy then finally, your dorm door clicks. a sound so soft you almost think you imagined it, until you hear his voice—warm, familiar, and heartbreakingly bright even through the muffled wood.

“baby? you in here?”

your stomach drops, entire body going rigid with panic. before you can find your voice, before you can wipe your face or stand or hide or even prepare, the door opens further, letting in the faint hallway light that spills across your floor.

kirishima steps inside, his expression soft with that dopey, affectionate smile he always wears when he thinks he’s catching you off guard. he’s holding something in a plastic bag, probably a late-night snack raid from the vending machines. his hair is a bit disheveled, a few strands falling over his forehead, and he looks impossibly warm, impossibly alive compared to the cold pit forming in your chest.

but then he sees you, and his entire world stops. the smile dies, color draining from his face. his eyes widen with a fear so visceral it shakes him to his core.

“oh my god—” his voice cracks, splinters, as though he’s just been punched. the bag hits the floor with a dull thud as he bolts toward you, quickly shutting the door in the process. he crosses the room in three frantic steps, falling to his knees beside you so fast the impact jolts the bed. his hands hover over you, trembling violently as he scans your shaking body, your posture, your breathing—everything.

“oh god—oh god, sweetheart—okay, hey, hey—look at me—please—” he’s trying to keep his voice steady though it doesn’t quite work.

you flinch away, instincts curling you tighter, shame flooding your veins.

“kiri—don’t,” you rasp out, barely audible. “i didn’t… i didn’t mean it i-i swear—i didn’t want you to see me like this—” but he’s already seen. he’s seen too much to ever forget.

his eyes dart downward yet again, and the realness, the urgency of this moment finally fully registers to him. something inside him collapses. his breath leaves him in one sharp, broken exhale. his hands fly to you—gentle, desperate—as he assesses how badly you’re injured, his panic rising like wildfire as crimson smears across his fingertips.

“baby—oh god—okay, hold on, hold on—” his voice, his hands, his entire body is shaking like he’s been electrocuted.

“it’s okay—it’s okay—just keep steady for me—wait, don’t move—just—just breathe, sweetheart—please breathe—”

your tears finally spill over in a gut-wrenching sob that shakes through your entire body, chest heaving with the weight of your unsteady breathes. “kiri, i’m s-so sorry—i didn’t mean it, i—”

“no—don’t apologize,” he says instantly, voice strangled. “not right now. not ever for this. i just—i need to help you first. please. please just let me help.” you nod, weak, and something like relief flashes across his face, even through the terror.

with one hand steadying you, he reaches blindly toward your desk—yanking open the drawer hard enough that it rattles—and grabs the first-aid kit sitting inside with shaking fingers. he fumbles it open, breath hitching, then forces himself to slow down, to be steady. to be the hero he thinks he’s supposed to be for you.

he cleans you up with trembling hands, wrapping the gauze and bandages softly around your bloodied wrists, every movement excruciatingly gentle. his brows knit together, lips parted like he’s holding back a sob. “you scared the hell out of me,” he whispers, voice so raw it feels like a confession. “i-i walked in and—i didn’t know how bad it was—i didn’t know—”

“eiji…” your voice quivers, 

he presses his forehead to yours, breath shuddering. “no, don’t talk—not yet. you don’t have to explain anything. i just—god, i just need you safe.”

when he finishes, he closes the kit with a soft click that echoes in the room’s stillness. then he lifts your hands, kissing them with slow, trembling reverence.

“thank you… for letting me help,” he breathes. your chest aches.

“you shouldn’t have to.”

“but i want to,” he says, immediate and fierce. “you’re not a burden. you’re not some problem i have to solve. you’re someone i love.” his voice softens as he continues. “you’re someone worth fighting for—even if the fight is invisible.”

your tears spill again, but this time, his thumbs brush them away with devastating tenderness. he stands only long enough to sit on the bed beside you, then pulls you gently into his arms—your body curling instinctively into his warmth, your cheek pressed to his chest where his heart beats fast and terrified beneath the surface.

he holds you like he’s afraid the world will break you if he loosens his grip. his arms wrap around you strong and protective, his hand stroking your back with slow, grounding motions until your breathing begins to match his.

“you’re not alone,” he murmurs into your hair. “not in this. not ever.” you feel yourself soften into him, exhaustion tugging at your limbs. for the first time all night, the weight in your chest loosens—not gone, but no longer crushing you.

“eiji?” you whisper.

“what’s up, hun?”

“can you… stay for the night…? please?” he exhales—a long, shaky breath full of relief, love, devotion.

“i’m staying,” he says. “all night. all morning. however long you need.” he shifts so you can lie down with him, pulling the blankets over you both. His arms slide around your waist, holding you close, grounding you with every breath he takes. as your breathing steadies, he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“i’m proud of you,” he murmurs. “for telling me. for trying. for surviving the night. even when it felt impossible.”

your voice cracks. “what if it gets bad again?”

his arms tighten around you, warm and unshakable. “then I’ll be right here,” he says softly. “holding you through it. every single time.” a tear slips down your cheek, soaking into his shirt. he kisses your hair. “you’re worth staying for,” he whispers.

you don’t remember falling asleep, only that the darkness feels less like drowning and more like drifting. only the way eijirou’s arms hold you like a promise, that for the first time in weeks, you believe tomorrow might not swallow you whole. because he’ll still be there when the quiet breaks again. because he loves you with a warmth strong enough to anchor you. because you’re not alone in the dark anymore.

[dykiri]

i love star im crying once again

[thena0315]

Class A Eight Years Later

[blueheavenmilkshake]

I loved it when mangle

[dykiri]

kirishima x reader one shot!! 1.4k wc

happy reading <3

☃︎ 𓃴 ⋆❅ 𓃴 𖢔 𓃴 ⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳

it was truly rare that you and your fiancé kirishima had the same day off. he had had this day circled in scarlet on his calendar for more days than he could count, planning it for a similar amount of time.

it was the beginning of december, christmas season, and your favorite season. he had to make sure you were enjoying your favorite holiday, how manly of a partner would he be if he wasn’t?

as much as the red head enjoyed studying your calm sleeping face like he hadn’t already memorized every noticeable feature; he needed to wake you up early for the day he had planned.

smothering and sprinkling your face in soft kisses; he stirs you awake, grinning at how your eyes flutter open before quickly squinting at the oh-so-bright sun.

after he forewarns you of the day he has planned, still keeping some details under wraps for surprise and excitement purposes, he asks you to brush your teeth and get dressed to go shopping. your eyes light up at that, smiling and getting out of bed to follow his previous instructions.

once you exit the washroom, he’s waiting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand. peppermint flavor that could be smelt from miles away streams throughout the room. you grin, approaching the taller and receiving the cup he had reached out toward you as well as a kiss he decided to place on your crown.

confirming that you’re ready to leave the house for the eighth time; he leads you outside, having the chivalry of opening the passenger door of the car, and click the seatbelt into place for you. what a man.

behind the wheel, he reaches his hand over the console, resting it on your thigh like he’s done hundreds of times before. he suggests you “hop on aux,” smirking when you excitedly exclaim something along the lines of “you made a new playlist? a christmas playlist?!”

“yeah! it’s december isn’t it? wouldn’t be so manly to listen to any other kinda music on the first, would it?”

you giggle, agreeing that it wouldn’t be so ‘manly’ to listen to something else. hitting shuffle, your head starts to mindlessly bop to the beat of the music, kirishima’s fingers tapping on the wheel to the rhythm.

☃︎ 𓃴 ⋆❅ 𓃴 𖢔 𓃴 ⋆

to say you were ecstatic when kirishima told you that you’d be christmas shopping would be the understatement of the century. after gathering lights and ornaments galore, he took you to the food section of the store. curious, you asked why he was taking you there. your face lit up after he suggested the idea of baking cookies.

acquiring all the christmas knick knacks you could find, he led you out the store; the full buggy he was pushing rattling along the way.

opening your door and fastening your buckle once again, he went to unload the holly-jolly items you attained into the trunk. returning back to the driver's seat, he clicked his own belt into place. starting the car and turning around with his hand on your seat, he backed out of the parking lot in the way that made your face flush wine-red.

☃︎ 𓃴 ⋆❅ 𓃴 𖢔 𓃴 ⋆

arriving home from your merry outing; kirishima unloaded the car, finding it humorous when you tried to assist.

after he finished unloading, the red head insisted on wasting no time before decorating, letting you decide where different trinkets and accessories were going to be placed while he did the heavy lifting, smirking when he caught your eyes ogling him.

after around an hour of decorating with kiss and giggle breaks in between, the house was relatively finished! all that was left planned for the day was baking— of course with kiss and giggle breaks in between as well.

kirishima decides to make you both some hot chocolate before you start baking— though it’s more like warm chocolate? he insisted that burnt tongues aren’t manly in the slightest so you just deadpanned and complied.

looking up a simple chocolate chip recipe, kirishima told you what ingredients to get out. laughing his ass off when you accidentally get out the corn meal instead of normal flour, he asked you to just turn on some more christmas music instead.

coming back to the kitchen after hitting shuffle on his premade christmas playlist once again, you come back to him in a christmas tree themed apron he insisted on getting.

he already has all the ingredients needed laid out in an organized manner. the dry ingredients already in a bowl waiting for you to stir them while he mixes the wet.

once you're both done stirring, he asks you to add one to another while he stirs it in steadily. after that he mixes the conglomeration some more, folding it into a dough-like consistency.

while he’s mixing you decide to sneak behind him, wrapping your arms around him from the back, seemingly hugging him. he leans into the touch, dumbfounded when you reach your hand into the bowl, snagging a bit of dough with the tip of your finger. hurriedly, you bring it to your mouth before he can stop you.

you hear him scoff but you don’t fail to notice the mischievous grin on his face when he turns around in your arms.

before you know it he’s already wiped the bit of dough on your face you didn’t see him grab. at this, your jaw dropped but it was quickly replaced with a grin similar to his.

“oh this is war” you reply to his antics.

he doesn’t say anything before turning around, reaching into the bowl once again, reloading his fingers with dough before aiming for your face.

you dodge, swerving around him and reaching for the flour. once it’s in hand, you throw a scoop towards his chest but he’s protected by the apron.

though it still gets on his face and in his hair, he doesn’t let it break him. reaching for a cluster of dough and flower per hand, he launches it with one, using the other to wipe some on your nose.

the bakery battle goes on for not much longer before you’ve both laughed so hard you find yourselves on the floor, leaning against each other breathlessly.

by now the cookies have been in the oven. while they’re baking you and kirishima stay put, you leaning into his chest with his arms wrapped around you, talking about everything and nothing all at once.

as he babbles on and on about the randomest topics, you find yourself thinking about how lucky you are. lucky to have this life with kirishima, this life with your dream job, your dream house, your dream person.

the timer sounding off is what rips you from your thoughts. you both get up, the red head moving to take the cookies from the oven.

while the cookies are cooling, you and kirishima decide to clean the kitchen. cleaning might not normally be an exciting activity but with your favorite person hopping around to christmas music in the background you seem to find it more bearable.

kirishima using a whisk as a microphone before tossing it into the sink to be dealt with later has your mood beaming even brighter than before. how did you manage to get so lucky? the question rings in your head once again with the cheesiest grin saddled on your face.

the taller of course noticed this.

“what’s that smile for, babe?” he asks with a grin of his own.

“oh nothing” you reply, taking a step forward with a kiss to the cheek that has his name on it.

“thank you for today sweetheart. it was perfect.” you add. he closes his eyes, kissing you sweetly and slowly.

“always baby” he says between kisses, the tug at his lips prominent as ever.

☃︎ 𓃴 ⋆❅ 𓃴 𖢔 𓃴 ⋆

that night is spent watching your favorite christmas movies, eating cookies, and holding each other like you’re the only ones to ever exist. needless to say, kirishima is very content with the day off he had pulled together for the both of you.

with your head to his chest he sleepily murmurs one last “love you” of the day with a kiss to your head before he drifts off.