THIS IS A BACKUP ACCOUNT for PROMOTIONBNHA! | This blog is mostly promoting BNHA/MHA blogs who do reader insert or original characters (OC), etc. It is to bring attention to other BNHA/MHA blog. | Please share your appreciation to your writers, it means a lot for them. It motivates them to continue sharing their work with you. It's IMPORTANT! | DO TAKE IN RECOMMENDATION ON WHO TO SHOUTOUT NEXT|
I am an adult—more specifically, a college student. If anyone needed to know!
This is backup account for @promotionbnha. I was mainly active between 2018 to 2020. I am back to create a new list who are active within the fandom.
I am still debating on creating a main blog for this, but fear I will be having issues with my blog again. For now, this blog will exist in the meantime.
This will be backup for me to know who was on the list and have their permission to do so. I do have excel spreadsheet with writers. I just want to have another source to double check that I have everyone counted for. It took almost 2 weeks to resolve issues with my main blog for this.
I will be running on Queue (Up to the January 28th, Five Times A Day to prevent clogging people's dashboards / the list should be out before or after that date.
If you want to give writer a shoutout, please feel free to send an ask or DM on this blog or at @promotionbnha
For Anyone who wishes to block or follow the following tags:
#bnha list 2025 (All of the writers that will be featured in the list of this season)
#bnha smut (For all smut pieces of 2024) This is a new tagging system I am trying out.
For Dark Content including Yandere and etc.
It will be under #tw mature content, For anyone who wishes to block the tag.
CURRENT COUNT OFFICIALLY ADDED FOR BNHA WRITERS OF 2024: @ 102 WRITERS
FOR ANYONE WHO IS A WRITER and Wants to be added on the list. PLEASE REBLOG THIS POST! FOLLOW THE TWO RULES on the post, reblog and comment on the post.
Here are my previous BNHA lists from over the years. There were few writers and artists.
(pt 1) yandere cult-follower rural country izuku x stranded tourist reader
the gas gauge inched towards empty faster than the morning sun could come. your vision flickered between the gravel path, rugged trail against your tires, and your rearview mirror.
trailing closely behind, a soft engine growls. a chipped black honda has been following your move for awhile now. ever since you left that port three hours ago...
what's your move?
your boyfriend glances around for a place to pull over, squinting, no streetlights in sight. only headlights could provide you with the comfort of seeing your surroundings. but the isolated landscape offers no motels, no stores, no sanctuary. no cluster of trees to barricade yourself in.
he steps on the pedal, the suspension creaks from such an abrupt command.
maybe just a bit further, you hoped, just a few more miles and there might be signs of life. the tires fought each bumpy terrain, but so did the other vehicle. as old as the honda was it relentlessly fought to keep up with your pace.
your boyfriend’s hands grasp tightly around the steering wheel. harsh drastic turns abusing the already overworked engine. the needle hovered over the letter 'e', you barely had enough time left.
the car gradually slows down before hitting an abrupt stop and the red warning light flickers on once your rented car runs out of gas. your breathing hitched.
"no. nononononono. NO!" he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, once more pressing against a pedal that would not obey. the car behind you did not deter from its speed, you could have sworn they were planning on slamming right into you
but at last second it swerved. a blur of dust as it swerved from view. leaving you in creeping silence. you both curl yourselves lower into the seat and he places his jacket on you to hide your figure, hammering hearts before falling asleep from exhaustion.
the next morning you wake up to a gentle tapping on your car window. you jolt up from fear that whoever was following you last night had returned.
only to see a man with broad shoulders holding a basket of herbs and vegetables give you the brightest smile. with a hearty laugh he says, "sorry to startle you, miss. it's not often we see cars in the west, this isn't a place for tourists."
you glance around the driver's seat where you expected to find your boyfriend is now vacant. you call his name under your breath as if wishing he could magically reappear some way, some how. but nothing.
a million thoughts run across her mind before: "miss...are you alright?"
you softly respond with an obvious hint of nervousness in your eyes as you look back at him, "umm...sorry. It's just that my boyfriend...did you see anyone else around here? he was driving and fell asleep here last night."
but as much as you try to describe your boyfriend's physical attributes and clothes, the man maintains a face of unfamiliarity to the information. he assures, "no, ma'am. haven't seen anyone but you, actually. but, let me help you. this place isn't necessarily the safest for tourists."
you reluctantly oblige, opening the door.
"i'm izuku, you're lucky i found you."
"and why's that?"
"outsiders aren't allowed to roam without a guide."
a few more hours and you finally reach izuku's ranch. the fresh smell of rust and herbs fills your senses. "would you like some tea?" you nod and watch as he methodically prepares it. rather than from tea bags and a water faucet, he gently crushes herbs between his fingers.
"my family has tended to these plants for centuries. in our culture its more than just a medicinal remedy, its a way to connect ourselves with earth again and strengthen our spirituality."
"what do you believe in?" he pauses shortly before responding, "hirukami. it's the belief that everything, every energy is being exchanged constantly for the greater good."
he gives you the cup of tea that was prepared in a hand-cared cup decorated in art works of plant forms. "you should come to the festival tomorrow. there will be a great celebration."
꒰ 💌 mdni. kirishima won’t let his shy girl look away during missionary. . . ꒱ ⸝⸝ .ᐟ
kirishima won’t let you look away, tangled within his muscular frame, all sweaty limbs and breathless gasps wrapped up in pure ecstasy. his body hovers above yours, casting shadows in the dim light spilling through the loose curtains and cool evening air. the sweet smell of vanilla wafts through the room, soft ribbons of smoke curling lazily from the incense he had lit only moments prior.
kirishima always makes sure the moment is sensual, wrapped in a lovesick haze—he’s a very romantic man at heart. and he holds yours with large, calloused hands adorned with various scars that trail up his arms, across his back, and toward his chest like inked medals, tributes to his life as a hero—a man very much capable of violence, yet all soft lips and hushed reassurance when he’s buried beneath the covers with you. his favorite place, he thinks. tucked away with you, lapping at your spoils, while you squirm beneath him, all pretty whimpers and trembling limbs.
the head of his cock traces your slick folds slowly, your pussy aching for his girth to finally stuff your needy hole full. his voice is low, a rasp that settles warm against your skin. you’re feverish underneath him, body practically molded to his, the way he keeps you close. voice rough yet it holds a softness reserved only for you, he’s demanding too—every time you squirm or let your gaze drift to the ceiling, nerves curling tight in your chest during this intimate, overwhelming moment.
“look at me.” he says it like a mantra with such authority that it only makes the wetness between your thighs pool further, the ache inside you growing louder. you shake your head weakly, but his cock pushes through your entrance now, your hole greedily welcoming him, swallowing him down to the base. he’s warm inside you, full in a way that sends a rushing sensation rushing through your body. you need him to move, need him to fuck you dizzy.
“mphm, kiri i need you to mo—”
he thrusts once, rutting his hips into you slowly—just enough to graze your sweet spot, sending a rush of white-hot pleasure through your body, before stilling almost immediately.
“like that?” he asks, voice strained, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him not to keep going.
his grin is wild, sharp, shark-like teeth glinting as the edges of his lips curl cruelly. he waits, blood-red eyes fixed on you, and even through the haze of lust you can feel the weight of his stare.
he’s waiting for you to cave.
you know he won’t give in until you look at him.
despite the urge to curl away and hide, you slowly turn, your eyes catching the velvet softness hidden within his stare. your heart—the very organ tasked with keeping you alive—beats so rapidly you fear it may give one final pump and finally surrender as you weakly meet his devoted gaze.
his soul seems to brim in the irises of his eyes, to spill from the pads of his fingertips—the same ones that catch your jaw the moment you falter and turn away again, burying yourself in the plush pillow where the faint scent of lilies lingers in the fabric from the detergent you’d washed it with.
his touch is warm as he cups your jaw, fingers pressing gently into your skin, thumb tracing idly over the softness of your bottom lip.
“look at me, i wanna see that pretty face.”
your cheeks bloom a deep red under his honeyed words. “shut up, you’re so dumb,” you mutter, completely flustered, shoving his hand away—but it only makes him chuckle. his face drops into the crook of your shoulder, deep crimson locks spilling forward, bangs falling into his eyes before he brushes them aside. he looks slightly disheveled, completely open for you.
his thumb presses against your lips before slipping past them, kneading gently at your gums as a boyish grin spreads across his face. “you’re so cute. you have no reason to be shy, baby… just keep looking at me, hm?” he murmurs. when he pulls his thumb free, saliva glistens along the pad of it. you bite down lightly, leaving behind faint marks from your teeth.
“she bites,” he says, something wild flickering across his expression.
his hands find yours, fingers interlacing as he pins them above your head, hips rocking into you with a steady, building rhythm. your eyes stay locked on him, both of you slick with heat, the sounds of him filling you echoing in the tight space between you. his thrusts turn fast, erratic—until he slows just enough to drag against your g-spot, chasing the way your breath stutters at the curve of him.
his forehead falls against yours, maroon strands spilling around you both like a curtain shielding you from the world outside your windows. one hand slips free to cup your face, thumb tracing soft circles into your skin. kirishima’s lips find yours again, his tongue brushing along the seam of your mouth, asking—before taking. you melt into him, breaths tangled, shared, stolen, given back all at once, inhaling each other’s oxygen, greedily consuming it. a perfect depiction of love.
his other hand leaves yours, drifting lower, finding the swollen bud of your clit. he rubs slow, light circles—barely there—but paired with the heat of his mouth, the wet press of his tongue, and the steady thrust of his cock, it’s enough to make your thighs shake. he smells like warm cedarwood and clean soap, layered with something faintly musky and lived-in, like he’s just stepped out of training, and it clings to him in a way that’s completely intoxicating—you’re drunk off his scent.
his movements falter just slightly, hips stuttering as your body tightens around him, pulsing.
“fuck…” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. “she’s gripping me.”
his forehead presses harder to yours, almost too much. “you feel so good… look so pretty when you finish on my cock, my sweet baby,” he coos.
your nails dig into his broad back, crescent marks forming as you cling to him.
“gonna spill,” he mutters under his breath.
you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him deeper, refusing to let go. he glances down at you, breath catching, a half-laugh breaking free.
“you’re sure you don’t want me to pu—”
you only tighten your hold, thighs squeezing his torso.
he laughs, breathless, grin sharp and besotted with fondness, “greedy girl.”
꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ masterlist - kofi - emergency comm info!
@tokkushin pushing the shy!gf agenda (≧◡≦) ♡ !!
note : i may have went overboard with the detail but i really hope u guys can feel the intimacy i was trying to portray. . i listened to cinderella by mac miller while writing this and i love that song sigh. reblogs, likes and comments are so appreciated and make my day 🫶
taglist : @xoxojisu @esilek @candiiee @cvnt4him @panchikogirlfriend @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @izutwos @doubelieveme @ivankinnieclatter @roronoafushiguroaratakahakari @green-orange-bloom @sparklylanddetective @lem-hhn @gaige312 @ryobaby @hrts4cupid @buuxbear @b00rants @v4mp1r3b4tzz @trilxogyyy @loveergirll @searchingfornothinggg @megumisrighttoe @rarebambi @vitya124 @sogmarizzler @lilfluffybunny @dreamyreadinglover @nonokoo @yxo7 @sunnyfieldsz @ludmiig @azizxxxah @lun3z take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
izuku midoriya was terribly allergic to strawberries. the sight of them alone made him shiver, the smell was enough to have his nose twitching with discomfort, and the moment the plump berry made contact with his taste buds—it was like the grim reaper himself was driving his scythe right through izuku's throat.
yes, he was undeniably allergic to strawberries, but you didn't know that. how could you when you're standing in front of izuku with a cupcake, one made from strawberry batter with wedges of the fruit decorating the delicate frosting, outstretched in the palms of your hand like some divine offering?
izuku was already flushed by the sight of you bounding over to him with such purposeful steps, but the subtle scent of strawberries in the air had his heart beating quicker for an entirely different reason than your smile. normally, he'd have take a polite step back and explained his situation to any regular person—or, more so, his absolute aversion to the cursed fruit, but izuku can't do that right now—not when it was you standing in front of him.
"i'm hoping i'll be able to learn more about you, izuku! i made it a point to get to know all my co-workers on the ua faculty team, but it feels like you and i haven't talked that much, huh? well, pleasantries aside, i really do want to get to know you more! i overheard your birthday was coming up from a couple of our students, so..."
izuku felt similar—wanting to know more about you, that is. actually, he's jotted little notes down about you quite often. like how you wear your hair down on fridays, and how you like your eggs scrambled, and the details of your coffee order from the café across the street—you get it. but, still, izuku was shy.
he'd rather admire you from afar than face you head-on; things were easier that way. he'd seek you out in the teacher lounges and hallways just so he could hide, because izuku was infatuated with you. stupidly in love, dangerously so even—and he only says this because he can't stop himself from accepting the cupcake from you.
his scarred hands brush against your own, and he hopes you can't hear the hitch in his breath.
you smile patiently, and izuku's body suddenly feels like it's been doused with ice as he realizes you want him to eat the cupcake right then and there, probably so he could tell you if he liked it or not. he could hand you this cupcake back right now, apologize profusely for never once mentioning his allergy, and try and explain the misunderstanding—
no. no way. nope. the strawberries wouldn't kill him, right? it's fine, everything will be fine.
"y/n, this is... this is so sweet of you, really! you shouldn't have gone through so much trouble for me." izuku all but croaks, laughing nervously as he shifts from one foot to the other. you smile happily, not sensing izuku's panic—too busy rambling. if izuku wasn't so distracted with his own irregular beating heartbeat, he'd see you were quite nervous too.
"i visited this strawberry farm across the city to get the freshest ones they had, it was a bit of a hassle, but i wanted your cupcakes to be perfect! i have the rest of the tray in the kitchen for the class to share, just in case you wanted any more." you smile, and izuku slowly absorbs your words before a soft smile stretches across his lips.
the cold leaves his body, and now all he feels is warm. almost like a fire had been started right in the pit of his stomach, and with every word you spoke, it felt like those flames were licking at his skin, yearning to push forward and feel you themselves.
slowly, izuku brings the cupcake to his lips, and you tilt your head in confusion as he hesitates for a single moment—he looks up briefly, already feeling the incoming sickness from the smell of the strawberry frosting—but you're smiling when he meets your gaze, eyes glimmering and hands clasped together expectantly.
izuku takes a large bite.
he chews as fast as he can, blinks back the burn building up in his eyes, and swallows—his entire body protests, and he has to resist the urge to gag as he takes a deep breath right after.
"g—good. really good. wow! i think i need, uh, water! yeah... and the bathroom. excuse me—"
he's out of the room in five seconds flat, leaving you standing there alone in total confusion.
to your horror, you find out about izuku's allergy third period that day with your class. and soon enough, you also learn izuku had to go back home for the day because he'd gotten ill in so little time.
stupid stupid stupid—it's the only thought swirling in izuku's head as he groans into his pillows. he'd have to cancel his birthday dinner tonight thanks to his condition, but that wasn't even what was bothering him. you'd made him cupcakes with so much dedication, all out of the kindness of your heart, and he'd taken one bite before promptly running away with no explanation.
izuku lets out a sudden gasp once he realizes he didn't even say thank you, slapping his hand against the burning skin of his forehead before rolling over in his bed from the pure nausea he felt.
"'m sorry," izuku sniffles into the silent abyss of his room, but that quietness is disturbed the second he hears someone knocking at his front door.
sulking, he shuffles into his all-might slippers and grabs his mug—one filled with tea that should help lessen the burn in his throat—before he opens the door.
izuku chokes mid-sip when he sees you, and you offer the green-haired boy in front of you a dorky grin.
"long time no see, izuku! may i come in?"
izuku stammers for a response, blushing wildly as his eyes dart over your form in disbelief—like he couldn't believe you were actually standing at his door (he briefly debates if he's imagining you here, but after pinching himself in the thigh and feeling a jolt of pain while you remain right in front of him, he realizes it's all very real).
"uhm—could you just give me one second, please?"
izuku doesn't wait for a response before he quickly closes the door, sliding against the floorboards of his apartment with how fast he's running around to pick up anything out of place before he rushes to the bathroom to fix his hair.
after deciding he looks a little less stupid than when he'd opened the door, he takes a moment to crouch onto the ground of his bathroom and silently scream into his hands. you were here. outside his apartment. and for some reason, izuku just cannot believe it.
he doesn't have any food to serve—no on-hand snacks either, and frankly, his living room isn't as spotless as it usually is. izuku is wholeheartedly embarrassed and quite a mess, but he takes a steadying breath to calm himself in spite of everything.
it's okay. he repeats the words over and over in his head again until he can somewhat believe them. it's okay because it was you on the other side of the door. his co-worker with a heart of gold and endless kindness, something his students would ramble on about all the time.
izuku opens the door slowly, a bashful smile gracing his lips as he immediately helps you inside, taking your coat for you and thanking you for the cupcakes as your head tilts back with laughter.
despite everything... it wasn't the end of the world. izuku is sure of it now, because you're holding up a pharmacy bag filled with all the treatment he'd need to be feeling better in no time, and you're smiling. and if you were smiling, then his worries, his embarrassment, his sickness, his panic—none of it mattered. not when you're leading him back to his room with a cheesy grin and a promise to nurse him back to health.
yes, it would all be okay.
he'll remember this birthday with you as one of his favorites <3
thinking about timeskip eijiro kirishima tying his hair into a messy man bun before eating you out
kirishima’s hair has gotten long, crimson strands now falling past his broad shoulders. you’re laid bare and pliant beneath him, his body hovering over your thighs, spread wide with one large, calloused hand. his grip is firm, fingers pressing into soft flesh, squeezing just enough to pull a reaction from you.
every mark he’s left on your skin burns with an aching need. his head dips lower into your heat, soft, intricate kisses teasing your inner thighs like whispered love confessions. sharp, fleeting bites follow, blooming into tender, tooth-marked impressions. your hands are buried in his velvet red locks, fingers scratching tenderly against his scalp. the soft wet sound of him sucking at the plush flesh of your thigh fills the room. your heart rattles violently against your chest, so rapid you swear it might give out.
the muscles along his back flex with each movement—sharp, defined lines shifting beneath your gaze. you remember countless nights tracing those same muscles, leaving scratches born from pure ecstasy, softer kisses scattered during gentler nights, devotion pressed into his skin under moonlight.
and the scar on his shoulder—you kiss it every night he comes home safe, back where he belongs, wrapped in your arms and your sheets.
he buries his face deeper between your thighs, red strands brushing and tickling your skin as they fall, wisping softly over your body.
a quiet irritation flickers across his expression when his hair slips forward again. he pulls back slightly, resting on his forearms as he tugs the black hair tie from his wrist. it snaps softly against his palm. you watch the subtle flex of his hand as he gathers his hair into a loose tie, a few strands escaping to fall across the scar at his brow.
then he lowers himself back down, breath warm against your slick heat. his pupils are blown wide with want and adoration, red-tinged irises darkened with need. his brows knit slightly in concentration—on you, on your pleasure. love is written across every feature of his face, paired with that sharp, charismatic grin.
your lips part at the sight of him. crimson strands frame his tan, scarred skin, loose pieces catching the light, his hair pulled back, his features softened—completely undone by you. your breath hitches at the realization, lungs filling with air as you sit there, watching him take you in just as you do him—both completely enamored with each other.
your hands lift to his face, cradling his jaw, thumbs brushing slow circles into warm skin. he leans into it instantly, melting beneath your touch.
“you’re so handsome… my gorgeous boy.”
color blooms across his face, deep red spreading down his neck. he drops his forehead lightly against your knee, breath spilling out in a rough, husky rasp that settles deep in your chest.
“you’re so beautiful, my sweet baby… sorry i had to stop for a second—”
his lips trail down your thighs again, slow and reverent as he continues,
“really gotta do something about this hair… was taking my attention away from my baby.”
his words melt into a grin as he presses a soft kiss against your pussy, following it with teasing kitten licks to your clit. his lips close around your sensitive, swollen bud, sucking gently, and it pulls a sharp mewl from your throat as you cry out—your hips lifting to meet his face, chasing the feeling as you grind your heat against him. he holds you there, steady, as your body moves against his mouth and he coats himself in your arousal, burying himself deeper into you.
⊹₊ masterlist - kofi - emergency comms
taglist: @xoxojisu @candiiee @seraphsmuse @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @lotusstarr @cupkiki @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @badslittlemuffin @dreamcastgirl99 @moonstonejpg @wonubby @dienamiight @sofi4dsam @kawaiiclubdaily @therefore-evermore @luckybibucky @sk1ppy-art @myths-and-ledgends @icanread-icantwrite @changkyunnnie @twoplayergaymers @socialobligation @calliopemanga @izutwos @doubelieveme take a look at this post to be added, or removed!
ⓘ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader x eijiro kirishima ⸝⸝ fluff, smut, angst, alternative universe (au: fantasy), polyamorous romance, action-adventure, mature themes
what if you were a princess from distant land sent to another nation to marry a barbarian they call a dragon king only to find yourself tangled in a dangerous court filled with brutal traditions, political unrest, betrayal, and two possessive men who slowly begin to claim every part of you for themselves.
꒰ TABLE OF CONTENTS ꒱ ✶⋆.˚ ⌕
ⓘ one ⸝⸝ your a dutiful princess sent to marry the barbarian dragon king of the scarlet region for the sake of an alliance, only to find yourself caught between your terrifying new husband and the fiercely loyal dragon hybrid who slowly becomes just as possessive of you as the king himself. ﹙18.8k﹚
Meet cute but make it bloody?
contains: BLOOD, otherwise pure fluff, gn reader
After an hour in line, you finally reach the doors of the best haunted house in the city. Given the size of your group, you'd have to be split up. You offered to go in after and catch up to everyone. Ten minutes later, they let you through the doors.
It's creepy and well done, but not too scary yet. Maybe it's because you know it's meant to be this way, but you're just not as afraid of places like this as you were when you were a kid. Still, the nostalgia is nice.
You come into another room that looks like a toxic waste spill. Green goo glows on the floor with a path zigzagging through the middle. It's obvious where you're meant to walk.
As soon as you step forward, a zombie mannequin springs out from around the door. Instinctively, you pull your arm back, swing your weight into it, and hit the offending figure in the face.
“Yawwch, fuck!” it– he screams.
“Oh!” you exclaim, “I am so so sorry! Are you okay?”
Staggering back until he's leaning against the wall, he pulls off the mask. Much to your surprise, he's cute. Really cute.
He's also covered in blood.
“I am very sorry about your nose! Can I get you anything?” you glance around, trying to find anything to help him stop the bleeding, but everything you see is covered in glowing sludge.
“Uhm, no,” he says, looking up at you for the first time. “I'm fine. Great, actually.” He smiles as the blood trickles down his chin.
“It uh, it doesn't look like it. Really, I can go find something.”
“Nah, there's a first aid station. They'll help me out,” he says, still happy. You wonder if you gave him a concussion.
“At least let me walk you there, it's the least I can do.”
“Deal,” he smiles, sending butterflies through your chest.
You follow him through a few rooms. One is a crime scene, another is filled with brightly colored jars of fake body parts. He pushes through hidden doors you never would have guessed exist, leaving a trail of glowing green footprints. A few turns later, you pass through a door covered in fake cobwebs and you're in an undecorated back stairwell. He waits at the bottom step for you to walk alongside him.
“So, a first aid station. Does that mean they expect this sort of thing to happen?” you ask, trying to make conversation.
“You know,” he laughs, “I probably should have asked about that when I first started this job, huh?”
“How'd you end up working here anyways, it seems kind of fun. Minus the dangerous parts.” You notice that you're stepping in unison.
“I saw an ad on a flyer someone stapled to an electrical pole in the park. So, like any rational human, I pulled one of the numbers off and called.”
“That's… Official.”
“Yeah,” he grins, blood drying to his lips. “When I got a call back, I was like 50/50 on it being a job interview or getting my kidneys stolen. Imagine this place without the decorations, they probably could have left it that way and it would still be scary.”
Cute and funny, you think, you picked a good one to punch in the face. You cringe.
You arrive in a makeshift office, there's a desk on one side and a folding table and chairs on the other. An older woman with a lollipop stands as the two of you walk in.
“Kaminari,” she addresses him in a way that sounds like a greeting, question, and judgement all at once.
“I uh, an accident happened,” he points at his nose.
“Workplace injury?” she asks, gesturing towards the folding table. Before he sits, she already has gloves on. Sifting through the large box on the table, she finds what looks like disinfectant wipes and opens one.
“Which of this is…” she begins, gesturing at his costume. It's at this moment that you realize he's covered in fake blood too.
“Just what's on my face, I was wearing a mask,” he holds up the zombie mask like a decapitated head.
“Oh,” she sits up a little straighter, “oh dear.”
Reaching for another handful of the wipes, she gets to work cleaning the blood off of his face.
Your phone buzzes and suddenly you realize your friends are probably looking for you. The group chat is filled with questions about your location:
y/n where did you go???
you still alive?
Did one of the monsters get you?? 🧟🧟🧟
…and is he cute?
really though where are you?
You laugh at a few of them, replying:
yeah, he is cute 🧟
I kind of punched him in the face though
might have to buy him food or something to make up for it. I'll catch up later!
After more back and forth making sure you weren't actually kidnapped, you agree to come outside and prove you're alive soon. Then you turn back to Kaminari. His face is as clean as possible, minus a split lip.
“I am so sorry,” you gush again, “I didn't realize I hit your lip too! I thought I just got your nose.”
“Impressive, right?” he laughs, “it's not every day you meet someone who's cute and throws a decent punch.”
Heat creeps up your cheeks. After all of this, he's complimenting you for it?
“Flattery aside, I still want to make it up to you. Can I buy you dinner when you're off?”
“Yeah,” he answers quickly. “My manager sent me home for the night. I just have to change, give me twenty minutes?”
“Perfect, meet you by the exit doors?”
“See you soon,” he says before disappearing.
You remember some of the way back, at least you thought you did. In the end, you land yourself somewhere new that's filled with fake smoke. After passing through a hallway filled with hands trying to grab you into a room with clowns and a circus tent theme, you see the exit doors and leave to find your friends.
When you reunite with the group and tell them the full story, you find that most of them thought you were kidding earlier.
“Wait, you actually hit him?” one of your friends asks. “And he said yes to getting dinner with you after that?” adds another.
“Yes to both,” you smile awkwardly.
A few minutes later, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Your friends’ eyes grow bigger. “You weren't lying, he really is cute,” whispers one of them.
Turning, you find Kaminari in regular clothes: a white v-neck and black pants. He was a cute zombie, but this is even better. A bit of green makeup still tints the backs of his hands where he rushed to scrub it off. As soon as he sees you, his eyes light up. They're beautiful, you hadn't noticed earlier (probably too distracted by all the blood.)
“By the way, I'm y/n. You're Kaminari, right?”
“You can call me Denki.”
“Denki,” you repeat.
Your friends say rushed goodbyes before jumping in an oversized rideshare.
“So,” you start as the two of you walk down the street together. “Where do you want to go?”
“Hmm,” he exclaims dramatically, “I'm thinking lobster.”
“Great idea, but I'm not sure where we'll find seafood at midnight and I have twenty dollars in my pocket. Want to try again?”
“Ughh,” he sighs, “if I must. How about the first place we see with the open light still on?”
“Sounds perfect.”
He holds his arm out to link with yours, you accept. The two of you wander into the night, veering towards a large fast food sign.
4 ways that yan pro hero shouto and yan deku would exchange yandere tips without even realizing it in casual conversation
framing their toxic behavior as supportive
i could see izuku most likely doing this. they could unknowingly feed into this easily as clearly they don't know the in's and out's of their behavior in depth. it is far easier to downplay your own behavior when you're the one telling the story.
izuku: "sometimes i feel like when I ask them about their feelings, they just shuts down or get defensive. i want to understand what they're thinking, but the more i try to get them to open up, the more distant they become. i don’t want to make things worse, but i also don’t want to seem like i don’t care."
shoto: "if they're uncertain, don’t push too hard. ask questions that guide them to their own answers. it’s more comforting that way."
2. downplaying independence
they equally, as heroes, feel a strong sense of responsibility and need to carry the burden of responsibility for you and with that comes independence. even the most normal forms of autonomy can be seen as a threat in their eyes.
shoto: "the other day they were telling me all about where they would want to go for the summmer. of course i listened, but there was this sickness in my stomach at the thought of it"
izuku: "i know right? it's just so dangerous how they can never truly get how horrible the world can be. we never go on trips and who needs it when we have each other?"
3. soft surveillance as care
probably the topic that they can get away with the most and even people outside listening in wouldn't bat an eye to it. it just shows that they're the most loyal and caring boyfriends to ever boyfriend. husband material.
"i have location sharing on. just for safety of course, it's not like i check it every hour," izuku laughs.
shotou: "that and having security cameras in the house. it just helps me, no matter where i am, knowing that i can see if they're okay."
4. emotional training
as pro heroes that were former ua students at the top of their class they probably took classes in psychology. but terms and knowledge absorbed from that class did not just become useful for obtaining information from villains and deescalating hostage situations, but for their own relationship with their partner as well.
shoto: "yesterday they snapped at me for asking them where they were going. i really didn't expect it."
izuku: "maybe it was just a bad day? you just have to reinforce what behaviors make you the happiest and they'll naturally lean into it over time. don't worry about it too much."
Synopsis; In which a birthday get together for your boyfriend turns into him fucking you against the wall of your bedroom while your friends are in the other room.
Featuring; Tomura Shigaraki x reader
It was meant to be a quicky, just something to tide your boyfriend over until later tonight when you were alone. You should know by now that nothing is ever quick when it comes to Tomura, especially if he's trying to get a taste of you. Your friends are in the living room, snacks and take out boxes litter the coffee table. It started as a get together for Tomura's birthday. But now?
Now Tomura has you pressed against the wall of your bedroom, both your pants shoved down just enough for him to slip his dick inside you. The tip is your favorite shade of pink and leaky with precum. He pulls your hips closer using your belt loops, drinking in the gasp that slips from your throat as he slides in. Thick cock stretching you out nicely, hitting the spots inside you that send shivers down your spine. His forehead drops, resting against your shoulder as he hides his face in your neck.
His hips move as if they have a mind of their own and he whines against you when he feels you clench around him. It's hot, too hot, with the way your bodies press together. Tomura shoves himself closer, hips moving faster and rougher, trying to force more of your moans out of your throat.
"Wanna hear you please," He whines out, cock twitching inside you and movements sporadic as he chases his climax. He normally likes taking his time when your in the bedroom, the intimacy of it all and the way you hold him close like you never want him to leave. It's his favorite thing, but he knows that right now isn't the time, your friends are waiting and if you're gone for anything longer they'll get suspicious, though he's sure Dabi already has an idea of what you're doing in here.
"D-doing so good Tomu, fuck feels s'good."
Your voice is breathy, moans and whines slipping past your lips as your hands slide into his hair at the base of his neck, fingers scratching at his scalp. You feel the way his whole body twitches as he bites at the skin of your neck and throat, marks beginning to form as he pushes even closer. One of his hands slips between you both, drifting down to where your bodies meet as he tries to help you closer to the edge.
His head dips lower, resting against your chest now as his pace increases, hips losing their rhythm. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in and nails leaving behind marks. He's mouthing at your chest as he whines, pressing his hips flush against you while continuously grinding. His body shudders as he cums, a deep groan sounding from his throat that grows into a high-pitched whine when you clench around him as you cum. Body tensing up while your legs shake around his waist.
"Thank you thank you thank you."
He's babbling as drool drips onto your shirt, top soaked around your chest where he mouthed at it through the cloth. Your fingers are raking through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead as you pepper kisses on his face and head. Telling him that he did good, that he's such a good boy for you.
"Did you enjoy your birthday present Tomu?"
You have more for him after your friends leave but that's a surprise he doesn't need to know about yet. He nods, leaning up to press a kiss to your lips as a thank you. You smile, petting his hair and kissing him back, telling him you're proud of him.
synopsis: trusted with finding his heartbroken friend in a sex club, bakugou finds you instead.
warnings: nsfw, heavy exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fondling, grinding, kissing, mentions of oral (m receiving), public sex, everyone’s naked, everyone’s horny, they’re in a sex club, in my head this is set in germany, still somewhat cute because i am bfbkg
an: tumblr has me on a mature ban which is funny because this is very mature. let’s see if anyone gets this on their dash or if it’s in the tags xoxoxo
bakugou katsuki has stupid friends that make stupid choices.
“stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that.”
“what? you gotta get more confident man, you look good. everyone’s gonna be naked in there,” kirishima chuckles, staring down his blonde friend even though they’ve seen each other naked more than they can count. changing rooms, missions abroad with one hotel room, even an undercover situation where they had to bathe outside in a river. kirishima’s voice turns to a whisper, clutching his clothing to his chest, “don’t turn around there’s naked people behind you.”
“fuck off,” bakugou grunts stepping in unison with kirishima in the queue to slide his clothing across the cloakroom desk. “i’m gonna kill sparky once we find him.”
“arm.” the attendant demands, this bored looking guy who’s probably seen more testicles this one night than bakugou has seen his own.
“for what?” bakugou spits and it only comes out rude because he’s nervous. he’s already had his phone snatched away at the door, which explains why kaminari hasn’t been replying to their texts and now he’s standing with his dick out before a clothed man.
“cloakroom number. you’ve got no pockets.”
bakugou blinks as kirishima chuckles, handing over his clothes and holding out the inside of his muscled arm. bakugou does the same, frowning when he gets a red stamp on his left wrist.
22.
“can’t believe you’ve been to this shithole before,” bakugou grunts. he can’t stop fixing his hair, rubbing his nose, then adjusting his dick. there’s no clothes to fiddle with or pockets to stuff his hands into.
he’s following kirishima down this smoky purple led lit hallway and he can hear bustles of conversation and slow jazz getting louder with every step.
“denks took me once last summer. it was fun, everyone’s so friendly and it’s definitely not a shithole. if anything it’s pretty freeing, very clean. nothing to hide.”
he’s got no clue what that’s supposed to mean, not until he follows behind kirishima through these red velvet curtains and analyses the scene before him.
there’s a minty smell in the air, a thick layer of smoke so you can only make out details of someone once they’re beside you. the room is coated in that same pale purple light with people everywhere. multiple body shapes, genders and the only accessories being earrings.
bakugou’s never had nudity before him at this amount. he knows his friends have taken part in threesomes, a few foursomes but bakugou’s only ever been intimate with two people in his life. sex has never been a focus, not when he was so busy with saving the world… and his drunk friend who’s somewhere wallowing about his ex girlfriend.
“some people have their fuckin’ underwear on. i coulda kept mine!” bakugou whispers in his red headed friend’s ear even nudging him in annoyance.
it’s intimating. there’s women lounging in sofas, legs crossed, legs spread. arms cuddling another in conversation. two women are making out against the wall, her fingers snaking down her stomach and stuffing into the others pussy.
bakugou’s eyes widen, swings around so his back is facing them.
only to be facing a woman straddling a man’s lap, kissing down his neck, wrist flicking between their bodies. he looks to the bar and there’s three men talking, one with his hand on the others lower back pinging at his underwear band. then the third pops a pill in his mouth and swallows it down with an orange liquid. the men giggle, a palm on a chest, a leg between another, a tongue in an ear and—
kirishima shrugs and bakugou can tell he’s not fazed by anything. in fact, he’s interested. looking at the lean man against the wall, swishing a drink by the stem of his glass. he chews down on his bottom lip once he locks eyes with him.
“okay, let’s split up, he last said he was at the back? incase he’s moved, you stay at the front.” kirishima orders, seemingly now in a rush to get everything sorted.
bakugou eyes the man who’s staring down his friend. then the man looks at him, gaze slinking down his body, his cock. winks. bakugou’s eyes go to golf balls.
“you’re gonna leave me?”
kirishima laughs, already ducking out of the conversation, “i’m sure you’ll be safe, bro. you’ll get hit on a few times just say whatever you usually say.”
“how the fuck are you gonna find me again?”
“this place isn’t that big. i’ll check upstairs.”
“there’s a fuckin’ upstairs?” bakugou mumbles to himself once kirishima disappears within the purple haze.
bakugou knows he could be paranoid but he can feel people staring at him. it’s unlike the usual stare he gets as a hero, fans impressed with his quirk, who have been following him for years and are excited to see him in the flesh. instead the stares he’s getting now, as he wanders through this faux house gathering are charged.
people are eying him like fresh meat, as if they can feel that this is his first time being naked in a public space. his anxiety smells good, only brewing arousal in these people.
a man ogles his arms like they’re chunks of chocolate. a woman stares straight at his cock and smiles when it twitches. he’s about to beg a security guard who stands in a suit at the door for his jacket until he remembers why he’s here.
to find his stupid fuckin’ friend who’s drunk himself in a sad stupor. nobody else here seems to be on that wave. chatting like they’re at a casual houseparty but lacking all their clothes.
bakugou circles one room, ignoring the whispers of two women sitting cross legged on the carpet. one is leaning on her hand behind her back, breasts out and perked.
“hey handsome,” she says and bakugou can only bring himself to nod.
he scatters into the next room. people making out on a sofa. a group of five are playing spin the bottle around the table. a woman with blonde hair is in heaven, moaning with her head flung back as everyone watches on. a few men touch themselves to it but pull away when another man springs from under the table, wiping his mouth.
“fuck, i’ve been wanting to do that!”
“spin the goddamn bottle, i wanna try!”
one of the guys notices him looking, “oi! wanna play? i think you're my friend’s type.”
bakugou doesn’t even bother to reply, glancing away with the snap of his head. one step forward and he bumps into a body.
soft and shorter than him. skin on skin, his hand brushing against a breast as he stabilises himself and clutches on your arm so you don’t fall in the process.
bakugou has to blink a few times to get his vision straight. just so he can be sure what he’s seeing is correct.
bakugou’s not sure what word to describe you but the first word that comes to mind is glittery. you’ve got a light glitter across your perfect chest, your arms, your— he stops once he sees a tuft of hair below your stomach. heat rises to his cheeks faster than ever before and he knows, he fucking feels the rush of blood to his cock.
you’re so fucking pretty.
“you’ve got glitter on me,” is the first thing he says but makes no move to wipe it off. instead he looks at that spot where your neck meets your shoulder, how smooth it looks. then, the plain gold hooped earrings in your ears and your shiny watery eyes. nothing about you is symmetrical, not the shape of your eyebrows or your breasts. your lips are luscious, clearly moisturised and he wonders if you’ve kissed anyone tonight.
bakugou katsuki has never met anyone naked for the first time. especially not the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. nothing could have prepared him for this. nothing kirishima prepped him about in the car, definitely nothing in his hero education.
you giggle, butter smooth, hands at your waist and your head cocked to the side like you’re analysing.
“gives something for people to remember me by,” you grin, your teeth are not perfect but your smile is so insanely adorable. bakugou steps forward. “it’s also a hack for any married men. their wives get to find out what they’re doing in the evenings.”
bakugou’s brows rise. “that’s smart.”
“yeah, it happens more than you think.”
bakugou inhales. it’s a little shaky when he takes in your citrus perfume and the mint that feels like it’s being pumped in the air. you must be able to tell how on edge he is right now, overwhelmed and even more so now with your presence. he’s grateful you don’t look past his adonis belt, because then you’d understand exactly how he’s feeling.
“can i touch you? you’re so built. i’ve never seen anyone who looks like you,” you murmur, transfixed by his body. your eyes dart across his pectorals, his brown nipples and then his abdomen. bakugou can’t distinguish whether it’s interest in a biological way or sexually. especially when you stare at the soft tissue pink scar right in the centre of his chest.
bakugou swallows a gulp of his spit. he’s supposed to be finding… they must be pumping pheromones in the air because somehow he’s willing to get on his knees in front of everyone and stuff his head between your legs.
“fuck,” he sniffs abruptly, “y-yeah, you can.”
the little “yay!” that tumbles through you surprises him, creates a whole new folder in his head of how you’re endearing. right beside how sexy you look.
you flatten both your palms on his pectorals first, causing bakugou to inhale sharply. his chest is falling and rising hastily just from that, from you being fucking pretty and naked and interested in him. you squeeze, lips in an o shape in shock.
“they’re softer than i thought. wow, you’re beautiful,” you say with a smile, thumbs brushing over his nipples. bakugou is forced to grip a bookshelf beside him. “you must be in the gym everyday.”
“n-not exactly,” he manages as your finger strokes the smooth scar on his chest, then the two darker brown fleshy scars at his side. they don’t hurt him anymore, haven’t hurt him for years but somehow you touching them so inquisitively has sparks flying through them. “i’m a…”
does he say his job? can you guess?
“you don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. maybe later.”
you draw your fingers across his eight pack, a finger dipping in every curve. he feels firm, hard, undoubtedly strong. like consistency, persistence and pain was needed to look like this. he doesn’t notice you press your thighs together but he does notice how you bite your lip when you finally gaze down at his cock.
leaking, red and prominent against his lower stomach.
“even your dick is pretty. where the hell are you from?” you laugh, “i’m surprised nobody has snatched you up yet.”
he wouldn’t want anyone to talk to him but you.
“i think you’re pretty, too.”
bakugou cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. how childish running around the sandpit to not catch cooties did that sound?
but again, to his surprise, you coo at him. your hands still haven’t left his body, pressing down on his sides, up to squeeze his shoulders. bakugou feels like he’s on fire, raging from unburied tension. he grits his teeth because he thinks he could come from you just touching his upper body, staring at him with your little smile.
“that’s so cute. thank you,” you reply honestly and bakugou gives a soldier like nod, “is this your first time here? you’ve got the first time nerves.”
“‘m not nervous,” but all the blood from his head is rushing right down to his crotch. you're massaging his shoulders now and bakugou is sure he’s about to loose stability in his knees.
“okay,” you don’t argue, “but it’s your first time?”
he wants to say he’s not a fucking virgin but he knows that’s not what you mean and it does feel like his first time all over again. definitely reminiscent of his first time watching pornography back in his room as a teen. over interested, horny but refusing to touch himself yet.
“yeah. my friends are here somewhere.”
it’s as if you’re magnetic, unable to take your hands off him. now they’re on his biceps, squeezing every couple seconds like you’re checking he’s still there.
“oh i know what that’s like. my first time here, i found my friend sucking this guy off less than half an hour in. she wasn’t even on anything.”
bakugou blinks, standing there dumbly like a mannequin that needs to be clothed. his cock aches.
“are you on anythin’?”
you shake your head, “no! my usual guy who i get stuff from isn’t here today, so just a few shots earlier.”
usual guy. this isn’t the place for him to feel jealous, it’s not, but he wonders if there’s anything you’d like him to give you. anything.
two girls and a guy walk past you and him, first acknowledging you with a little wave and giving him those same hungry eyes as everyone before. with his attention away from you, he realises how many people aren’t only staring at him but you. were people getting off on you touching him? there's a girl and guy on the sofa clearly talking about you, did they want you too? one of the men around the spin the bottle round table has an envious look in his eye and bakugou wasn’t sure if it was towards him or you. he shifts his body so that guy wouldn’t be able to see you.
“what’s your name?” bakugou asks. though he eyes your wrist.
a red stamped 47.
“yn,” bakugou’s not sure if you’re telling the truth. “you can touch me too if you want. i’d like it if you did.”
he didn’t come here to talk to women, he didn’t come here to fondle women, even if they’d like him to do so. kirishima has probably found kaminari right? they’re both grown ass men and kirishima has been here before. it’s fine.
you can sense the carousel of revolving thoughts in his head. so slowly, as if he’s a sensitive kitten that will run away at any loud noise, you remove your hands from his body and wrap them around his wrists. you drag his hands half an inch away from your chest. “it’s okay, i promise.”
there’s the space for him to decline, your grip loose so he can pull away. but he wants too, he just probably shouldn’t be.
“f-fuck,” he whispers, pressing his hands on your clavicle. you’re real, alive and letting him touch you. “if i touch you anymore, i will come and i can’t fuckin’ come like this.”
you frown playfully, a little laugh, “why not?”
bakugou stills, “what d’you mean? shit’s embarrassing, i need you to come first—,”
your hands are back on his wrists, sliding his palms down to the fat of your breasts. his hands are massive, able to grab both in a single hand. you exhale softly as if you just took a hit of endorphins.
“what’s your name?”
“katsuki.”
he doesn’t even have in him to lie.
“nothing is embarrassing here, katsuki. maybe if you fall flat on your face. that still applies.”
he squeezes your breasts, tender incase he hurts you. it only makes you step in closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “you’ve got such warm hands.”
bakugou’s thankful you’re cautious to not press your body into his cock. “i’ve never seen a woman like you.”
your eyes are fluttered shut once he starts to massage, glitter from your body transferring onto his palms. it’s all over his body too, like you both are born from the same star.
“i wanna take you home and squeeze you. you’re so adorable.” you whine, opening your eyes to give him a pout.
he doesn’t get this reaction from women, usually he’s the one in charge throwing them on a bed, kissing them first. he’s definitely never been called adorable or cute but you’ve got him tied around your finger, pressing for more attention.
“you guys look gorgeous together, by the way,” a rather pretty man says in passing and your smile beams.
“thank you, honey!”
then your attention is back on bakugou like you knew he was crumbling without you.
“you can pinch them if you want.” you offer, taking your fingers through the hair on his nape.
bakugou looks at his hands on your breasts. his hands are ugly he thinks. always too sweaty, scarred all over though he always keeps his nails clean and cut. they drown your body, your flesh spilling between each of his fingers.
“you’re so…,” he’s out of words to describe how angelic you are, rolling your perked nipple with the pad of his thumb. you’re so reactive, bubbles of light delighted exhales. when he pinches your left bud you moan and bakugou is forced to squeeze the base of his cock.
you laugh at the flush of red in his cheeks, his jaw sharp as he grits down. he’s taking heavy controlled breaths, looking up at the ceiling to calm himself down.
this man, katsuki, is stupidly gorgeous. walking around this event like he’s so unaware of himself. it’s what drew you to him. you’ve figured out pretty quickly that he’s ridden with anxiety, pent up with arousal and is so determined to not release.
“i’m sorry, katsuki. it’s not because of me is it?” your hand flies to your mouth, but the giggles spill out.
he should be embarrassed at your laugh at his clear inability to control himself over your naked body and touching your breasts. about to nut in a room full of people over some half-baked fondling. but he isn’t, it feels like you’re both in this together.
“‘course it’s ’cause of you. i just need to—,” he runs his hand up and down his shaft twice, before letting go. he blinks at you, your pointed nipples, your confident smirk. he wonders how you'd smell if he dipped between your legs. “i’m good now.”
as good as he can be in this situation. he’s fucked.
you give him an understanding nod, biting down your smile. “if you want, we can sit down. talk a little?”
you’re like a fairy. not those dainty petite ones out of those fairytales but a real, glowing one with your palm out for him to take. you almost feel like a figment of his imagination, like he’s suffering from object permanence if he isn’t touching you. he can’t tell if you’re laughing at him just a little bit, he’s not sure if he cares. he’s out of his depth here, getting whiplash with his limits adjusting by the second.
there’s no chance he’s having sex with anyone in public. he’d do anything you ask him to and you don’t even have to say please.
bakugou slides his palm into your smaller one and allows himself to gaze down your back as you drag him away somewhere. your back is smooth, curved and he imagines kissing down your spine. your ass, he glances away, then he looks back. two round globes that ripple with every step you make. he wants to see his fingers gripping your flesh, how it shakes when he slaps a cheek.
he glances at your face to find you smirking at the fact he was so clearly checking you out.
“s-sorry, it’s—,”
“you can look at me, katsuki. we’re all naked here.”
you stop him in front of an empty maroon leather sofa though there’s still other people in the room. a group of four playing a card game on a blanket. a compulsory couple making out on another sofa, always someone making out somewhere. he should be used to it now but beside that couple there’s a man with a man and a woman kneeling on the floor licking his dick.
bakugou rips his eyes away from the scene when you drop yourself into the sofa, sitting sideways with your legs curled. you perch your arm on the back of the sofa, head resting in your palm. you tap the space beside you.
“sit, gorgeous.”
he does because he can see your pussy when he stands. was there a shine there? is it because of him? bakugou flops down, apologising abruptly when the weight of him causes your side of the sofa to bounce.
“it’s okay, you’re a big guy after all,” you say, snuggling up close to him. your hand is back on his chest but he notices your eyes widen.
“what?”
your finger swipes at the precome that’s brushed at his abs from how slouched he’s sitting. you’re quick, eager, like you’ve been caught with your fingers in the peanut butter jar.
bakugou’s never been so hard in his life, his head is a bulging red though the colour dimmed down under the purple lights. he flings his head back on the chair but his hand finds your thigh. squeezes.
“you’re killin’ me. i didn’t expect this when i came here. i was supposed to be in and out.”
“that’s honest. you didn’t expect to be turned on in a room full of naked people.” there’s a moan in the background, a couple. “or you didn’t expect to find me?”
bakugou opens his eyes to look at you, you’re clearly more presentable than he is right now. his eyes are watery, pupils blown out like just taken something and he already looks like he’s been run through tonight. fucked in all types of ways. his lips are parted, staring at your smiling ones.
“you. i don’t even know what to say to you.”
he doesn’t know what’s appropriate in this context. with people fucking and sucking all around him, how honest can he be?
a gasp gets stuck in bakugou’s windpipe when your hand cradles his cheek, thumb brushing the blushed apple right under his eye. the movement presses your breasts together, has bakugou once again wondering how the hell you’re real right now.
“tell me what you’re thinking. your first thought.”
he feels as if he’s about to start salivating. he can see every one of your eyelashes, curled up and batting against your cheeks with every blink. your eyes are caring, looking at him softly like you know he needs to be looked after here, a little push of confidence. bakugou’s never been treated like this in his life.
“i wanna eat you out. feel you come on my tongue. so fuckin’ bad, i feel like i’m going insane.”
he notices your thighs press together now, how your body shivers, how you snuggle closer to him with your breasts against his bicep.
“hearing you say that is going to make me drip onto this sofa.” your voice is like silk, weaving in one ear and out the other.
bakugou’s hand slides from your thigh to your ass, pinching you roughly, arousal uncontrolled.
“i was thinkin’ how the fuck is everyone able to just fuck in public here and now i’m close to beggin’ you to let me. just a taste.” he can barely pronounce a consonant, all his words slurring together, drunk on everything you are.
“you sure you want to? you don’t have to,” but you’re just taunting him. you can see how much he wants to, if not in his eyes but in his raging cock slapped against his chest. you stretch a bare leg across his lap and this large, beautiful man moans for you.
this is probably your favourite type. hot and ready after some touching. wanting to please you just from the sight of you alone. definitely helps that he’s built like a god and looks as if he can back up whatever he puts down.
“please let me,” he groans and you watch as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “i’ll do it here, let me do it here for you.”
you don't say a word, laying back on the sofa and slowly opening your legs.
bakugou feels like he’s about to shut down. your shine catches the light, gloss covering your lips, trickling down to between your ass. you’re pretty everywhere and he can smell how much you need a release. his heart raps against his chest like he just finished a sprint and he grabs the base of his cock whilst gritting his teeth.
“fuck, sorry. i’m tryin’ so hard not to bust. i fuckin’ can’t.” he’s blubbering away, unable to take his eyes from between your legs. you’re so fucking pretty. “so perfect. where the fuck have you been all my life?”
you’re laughing again, propping up your head at the arm rest as bakugou adjusts his body to have his head between your thighs. you ruffle his hair, tugging it lightly before letting go.
“you’re so adorable. i knew you’d be good for me.”
that has bakugou dragging his eyes away from your pussy to your face. “i’m good for you?”
he isn’t the submissive one in sex, in his life. he takes control of everything, he’s the one telling others where to go and what to do and… here he isn’t. here he’s waiting for your next word and there’s a couple people watching it happen. fuck, more people are in the room now. sitting on other sofas, staring at him staring at you like you created the stars in the sky.
“yes katsuki, so good. you said you wanted me, have a taste.”
the permission has him purring like a new shiny engine, both his thumbs spreading you apart and bakugou feels rewarded. thick sweetness pouring from your hole and he’s quick to lap it up so it doesn’t get on the sofa. he can’t waste any of you, how disrespectful that would be. your exhales are bubbling with every lick bakugou makes, firstly careful like he’s testing the waters before he dives in.
he grips your thighs like a man starved, the first piece of meat he’s seen in days. then he starts to rock his face into you. messy like nobody taught the man any manners. licks stripes across you so everything’s contained, moans sending vibrations through you because you taste even better than he could imagine. a sweet tang, that has him rolling his eyes to the back of his head.
bakugou is so consumed by you, by taste, scent and sight, that he forgets about his own hard cock and the crowd that has formed.
“can i touch you—,” it’s another voice, one said to your katsuki but he’s busy.
“don’t touch him,” you bite, grinding your hips up into his mouth, back arching when he suctions his plush lips over your clit, “fuck, katsuki! you’re doing so well, baby. you’re going to make me come.”
bakugou’s too engrossed, focused on your sounds and words to guide him, to ensure he’s doing the best he can. but you notice, you notice the jealous eyes, the aroused ones, even the curious ones in the corner. there’s even word spreading round to other rooms of what’s happening, of this sexy newcomer that has his head between your thighs.
“she’s so hot, she’s never let me do that.”
“who is he… who are they? d’you think they’d want me as a third?”
“i’m getting hard again just watching this.”
everything here is lewd, this is a protected place for your wildest fantasies to come true. the attention only encourages your orgasm, the teary red eyes of this stranger dragging you to the edge.
“need you to come on my face,” he grunts like a raging beast, lifting up on his knees to push yours by your head.
he needs a better position, one to get right inside of you, have your orgasm stretch as long as possible.
you mewl at the burn in your thighs, but it’s welcomed as his wet prodding tongue circles your clit again and again before sucking harshly. he’s created his own rhythm. a paw clutches at your breast as he grunts, ruby eyes staring at you for a reaction.
“we’ve got ourselves fans, katsuki,” you whisper to him and he can tell you are close, eyes fluttering, almost completely gone.
he slips two fingers into you and pre from his cock leaks onto his chest at how wet you are. now, bakugou finally pays attention to all the eyes in the room with his mouth slick with you. the couple that were making out have pulled apart to stare at you. there’s a man running his fist up and down himself. there’s groups of people just watching, more coming in as his fingers pump in and out of you.
how the fuck has he gotten here? a new flush of heat floods him, pride at everyone seeing how well he treats you. that you’re moaning and wailing for him.
“you like everyone watchin’ you, huh? you want everyone to see how pretty you look when you come?”
you look delirious, biting down on your lip as you nod, trying to lock your knee around his neck to bring him back to you.
“yes. i want everyone to see me come because of you.”
he doesn’t understand a thing about right now, just that he needs to take you there.
so he does, loud squelches of his fingers curling along your walls and his lips sucking your clit like he needs it for his survival. your orgasm rocks through you, bursts of come seeping from your hole and bakugou tries his best to keep it in his fingers, clicking around them and grunting when some spills.
your body vibrates, legs tensing in the air as sweat gathers at your temples. you’re murmuring swears with whines and your grip on his head gets stronger to keep him there through your orgasm.
there’s multiple other moans through the room, conversation about you and katsuki but it’s gone mute as white flashes your vision. once bakugou’s sure he’s lapped you all up, sucked you completely off his fingers, he kisses your stomach lightly, fixated on the empty pulsing between your legs.
“you good? wasn’t too much?” he asks you as your chest falls and rises.
you can barely manage to lift yourself up so you take his hand, “loved it. i knew you’d be good with your mouth.”
you still notice the urgency in his eyes so you look over at his cock, about to reach for it.
“you both are hot. mind if i join?” a man with dark hair, toned.
“no. fuck off,” bakugou snarls, lifting you up so you’re wrapped under an arm, tucked to his side. “you’re lucky we’re lettin’ you even watch.”
your smile blooms, awarding bakugou with kisses along his shoulder, a soft bite where his neck meets. “it’s your turn now, katsuki. need to take care of you before you pass out on me.”
you’re both sitting so intimately. you look exhausted after your orgasm and your skin is tacky with sweat against his. yet he holds you tight, skin to skin, your arms circling his neck.
“you don’t have to. i can sort this at home,” he doesn’t know why he says this. is he being polite? he’s now aware of the eyes around him. some people have dispersed since he stopped eating you out. others now just littered around the room.
“no,” you whine, a kiss on his jaw. he’s yet to kiss your lips. “i want to make you come. want to say thank you.”
your face is a few inches from his, hanging onto him like a koala. he’s committing this all to memory, the red printed 47 on your wrist. how your eyes are glassy like you owe him more than just an orgasm. how you gripped his hair once you noticed how many people were watching.
“can i kiss you?” his fingers run down your sides.
“so cute,” you whisper against his lips, sliding onto his open mouth and thrusting your tongue inside.
the kiss is amazing, sexy. has your hips moving against his side without warning. you can feel his boost of confidence as he sucks on your tongue, tilting his head to get deeper down your throat. he bites down on your bottom lip, hating to be away from you for a second before his lips land on you again. he tastes like you and something sweet and it’s all effortless as he begins to push you back down onto the sofa, thick forearms by your head so he can begin to grind between your sensitive legs.
bakugou doesn’t last long at all, he knows he wouldn’t be able to. as your legs wrap around his waist, all he wants is a pussy job. to feel you wet and soaked around his cock. but three thrusts from you with your tongue in his mouth and bakugou bursts all over your chest. his groan is incredible, has you clinging onto him in necessity.
it’s one jolt of come, then his face goes slack, grunts of “fuck, couldn’t stop myself.” hating how he couldn’t go on for longer, even though he’s been burning since he saw you.
“it’s okay baby, it’s all for me. i love that it’s all for me,” you say to him, working him through his weak thrusts as he’s unable to even kiss you, just transferring his hot breath into your mouth. another jolt and his seed pours. “you’re so sexy. i’ve missed you.”
that makes bakugou laugh, his come gathering in your tummy button, under your breasts and through the hair on your mound. “i’ve fuckin’ missed you too. where have you been?”
bakugou’s barely conscious as he lays beside you out of breath and out of any will to move.
“sorry, i know i’ve made a mess—,”
you tut, but you only mean it sweetly when he glances over at you, “stop apologising. there’s wipes and tissues under the chair.”
“that was so sexy, if you guys are ever looking for two more—,”
“no!” you and katsuki blurt, “we’re good.”
as the girl walks away, bakugou sighs delightfully, reaching for the pack of wipes to clean up.
“wait, wait,” you say, scooping up his come from your stomach on your finger and stuffing it in your mouth.
bakugou stares with a slacked jaw, reaching over to kiss the corner of your lips as you swallow.
“are you gonna let me see you again? maybe out of here?”
you cock your head to the side as he wipes over your stomach, then your thighs.
you take longer than needed to reply, enough time for bakugou to mumble, “please?”
“what the fuck!? there you are!” kirishima bustles in, stomping over with kaminari behind him still looking heartbroken but now considerably more interested in whatever's just gone down. “no way, kacchan? seriously?”
kirishima’s eyes flicker over you still laying on the sofa as bakugou wipes you down, very obvious about everything that’s happened.
“good for you man,” he says solemnly, slapping his hand on bakugou’s shoulder.
“kacchan?” you ask.
“short for katsuki,” he says into your hair and there’s something inside you that bursts in delight that he trusted you with his actual name.
“this is yn,” he blurts, knocking his head with yours. the fuck is he supposed to do, caught just having sex in a sex club with a beautiful woman by his two friends, “she’s sweet.”
kaminari laughs wetly, “course she is. how did he find someone and i lost someone. the love of my life.”
“sorry about him. still distraught. i found him asleep upstairs—,”
“then i woke up to him sucking off this guy—,”
“shut up,” kirishima whines.
“was it that same guy we saw when we walked in?” bakugou asks and he’s met with a slow nod, that becomes a small smile in remembrance.
the dynamic of katsuki and his friends wasn’t what you expecting. you weren’t sure what you were expecting really, but it wasn’t this. light laughter between them both, all three of them jacked and muscled like they have the same hobbies.
“anyway we’re heading out now, you coming with kacchan? or you wanna stay with yn here?”
bakugou looks to you. he wants to be anywhere you are. maybe do more with you, talk to you. find out what you do for work, your dreams, your family. he wants to touch you in his bedroom, without a crowd.
“i’ll meet you at the cloakroom in fifteen.”
with two waves to you, you look over at bakugou with a pout. “you’re leaving?”
“you can come with me? this isn’t my thing,” he looks around the room, “not at all. but i wanna spend more time with you. maybe outta here?”
it’s the same nervousness from earlier but instead of coming out jumpy, he’s unable to make eye contact, hands unable to leave your thighs.
“okay… i’ll say goodbye to a few people and meet you outside?”
bakugou doesn’t hide his shock at you agreeing. he was expecting push back, this being a once in a lifetime situation where he meets the most beautiful girl of his dreams and never again. but you rise to your feet, taking his hand like you’re helping him up.
on your tiptoes, you kiss his cheek, “i’ll be quick okay?”
he shakes his head, “take your time.”
with kirishima and kaminari clothed an seated at the front of the car, bakugou sighs for the fifth time.
“it’s been ten minutes bro, she said she will come, she’s coming,” kaminari says through the window, his eyes closed. “you won’t be let down. not like i was.”
bakugou stands leaning with his arms crossed against the car, kicking a rock.
“maybe she doesn’t notice you without your dick out,” kirishima laughs, which only makes kaminari laugh too.
“fuck off, we all had our dicks out—,”
“you know you’ve got glitter on your neck?”
“sorry for taking so long, they couldn’t find my clothes!”
you look completely different yet completely the same, under the harsh yellow streetlight compared to the fuzzy purple haze from the club. you look real, beautiful, in reach for him to kiss with a clear head. and clothed, you’re adorable. dressed nothing like the minx that enjoys having an audience when she orgasms.
you’ve got a fluffy striped jumper on and baggy denim blue jeans with your bag over your shoulder. you look like you’re dressed to do a food shop, a student going to university. fuck… he cannot even wrap his head around the fact he came over your chest a mere half an hour ago.
“you look adorable,” he blurts and you give him a grin, stuffing your hand in his face.
“shut up katsuki, that’s my word for you,” though he only grabs your wrist, kissing the faintly stamped 47.
he continues holding it when you peep your head to the open window to his friends. “thanks for dropping me off guys!”
“no problem!”
bakugou opens the back door for you, “d’you wanna come back to mine?”
he asks before you get in and like before, there’s an extra second pause. then, “are you going to tell me what you do for work?”
“he’s a pro hero, we all are,” kaminari groans, his hangover settling in as well as his urge to go home.
your eyes widen, your hand back on his chest like feeling him will reveal the truth. he’s now coated in a plain black tshirt. “oh wow.”
“guys we really can be horny in the car instead of outside. get in.” kirishima says and it’s a quick scramble of you sliding in and then bakugou after.
it’s inevitable, an attempt to be appropriate but straying from it at every corner.
another kiss shared in the backseat between you saying how many siblings you have, bakugou gripping your thigh as he says where he grew up. kaminari sharing an embarrassing tidbit about bakugou growing up and bakugou threatening to snap his neck. then the blonde apologises to you for saying that while kaminari whines in the background.
when kirishima drops you and bakugou outside of his skyrise apartment the only thing you can think to say is, “you’re a really good friend.”
bakugou huffs a laugh, slinging his arm around your shoulders, “not really. i was eatin’ you out when i shoulda been lookin’ for him.”
likes don’t do anything on tumblr! but reblogs, comments and asks mean the world! i delete comments asking for another part. thanks xox
bestfriend!katsuki when you break up with your boyfriend!
it’s 2 in the morning when katsuki hears a rapid banging on his door.
dragging himself out of bed, he gets up with a groan, slips on the nearest pair of sweatpants he can find, and goes to open his door.
and when he does, it’s you. standing there, in your pajamas, eyes red and puffy like you’d been crying.
rubbing his eyes, voice full of sleep. “..the hell? what’s going on?” he already stepping back allowing you to come in.
sniffing, “he cheated on me—we…broke up.”
you step closer to him, letting your face hit his chest and you start to sob.
oh.
oh.
fuck yeah.
he freezes before wrapping his arms around you slowly, pulling you closer, trying to comfort you. “cmere, i got you.”
you continue to sob into his shoulder, finally being able to let everything out. but little do you know, behind your back, he’s grinning like a villan. fucking ecstatic. practically shaking with excitement.
katsuki has been in love with you for months. but couldn’t do anything about it due to your asshole of a boyfriend.
and now, he didn’t have to hide anything. he’s been respectful of your relationship, sure, he wasn’t going to ruin anything for you. he’s no home wrecker.
you settle down a bit, pulling back to look at him. his hair is a mess, clothes all disheveled, and his eyes tired. you didn’t even realize until now that you must’ve woken him up. “you.. were sleeping.”
he doesn’t even care that you woke him up. this is way more important than sleeping. katsuki nods and gives you a soft smile. he grabs your hand and leads you to his couch. “don’t worry about me right now. come sit.”
he sits down first, pulling you down with him. closer than usual. he rests his hand on your knee, trying to sooth you. there was no holding back now. no more boundaries.
he lifts his arm, allowing you to lean into him. “I just thought he loved me..”
biting his lip to tame his smile, “he was a lame anyway.” his hand finds your back, rubbing soft circles. his voice is sweet. like, almost too sweet. “you’re alright. im here.”
after about half an hour of you rambling on about how you found out, along with on and off crying, katsukis set you up comfortably in his bedroom with a big blanket, some water, and a change of clothes.
softly, “that dick didn’t deserve you. you’re better than him you know.”
“thanks katsuki.” when you look at him, theres a spark of something in his eyes. “can i stay here tonight? i’ll just sleep on the couch.”
the couch? hell no. not when now he can have you right by his side. he’s quick to respond: “nah. we’re both gonna sleep in my bed.”
katsukis about to have the best night of his life. why?
—to the one who understood; shigaraki tomura x reader
synopsis: tomura shigaraki didn't let just anyone into his life. he had built a cage around the most broken parts of himself, yet he willingly watched you slip through the cracks in the walls he'd so carefully constructed—it was either go big or go home, and you went straight for the most vulnerable part tomura possessed—his heart.
tagging @shigarakislaughter because it would be criminal to not tag the head of the tomura shigaraki nation HEH <3 also congrats on your new job bby!! :D
Tomura Shigaraki wasn't a bad person. That didn't mean he was the best—but nobody is perfect. He knows this. So, he doesn't try to be. He's simply his authentic self around you. Tomura never really did think he could ever attract anyone. He's not exactly conventionally handsome, and his humor borderlines between something sinister and wildly crude. But he managed to charm you, somehow.
He'll blame it on your parents dropping you on your head too many times. He'll blame it on Musutafu's hot sun frying all your brain cells—you're truly so stupid for falling in love with him.
Out of all the people you could have been with in the world, you chose the suicidal maniac with ideologies and ways bigger than life itself. Really, him? Tomura doesn't get it.
He doesn't like the way your voice softens when you speak to him. How you even managed to figure out his dislike for loud noises is beyond him. But, you accommodate for Tomura in a way no one has before. He watched you fall in love with him—he watched you go through every stage, and he did nothing to stop it.
He couldn't because it was inevitable: the second your eyes met his, your pupils dilated like a flower in bloom.
You were a new recruit to the league when he first saw you, a wide eyed thing who smiled too much. Tomura hated how there was nothing to dislike about you—he'd glance your way and scoff sometimes, because why can't he find a reason to steer away from you? Something that ticks him off? He refused to accept the fact that maybe you really were just a good person.
Tomura doesn't let people in, it's not his thing. His mind and body are a fortress and no one is allowed entrance inside. It doesn't matter how you make his heart skip or how you soothe the ache in his chest, he'd prefer if you stayed far away from him.
But Tomura kept you at arm's length—torturing himself by keeping you so so close yet infinitely far. He'll let you sit inches away from touching him, but when he glances at you—he imagines a milky way between the two of your bodies, keeping him in line and allowing him to never stray far enough to hold your hand or bump his shoulder against yours.
Kurogiri told Tomura if he ever wanted to pursue someone like you, he wouldn't be against it. Maybe it would be good for Tomura, he suggested. A soul connection was what Tomura had always lacked—and his soulmate was right there—you were right there. But Tomura was stubborn.
Tomura's afraid you'll calm the rage in his heart. He looks at you and he wants to forget all his pain, all his fear, all his hurt—he wants to toss it all into the sea and start anew with you. But the feeling is fleeting, because he pushes it down the moment it blooms in his chest. Stomps on it until there's nothing left.
"Tomu?"
Tomura's eyes tear away from the monitor in front of him the moment he hears your voice. Subconsciously, Tomura straightens in his seat and regards you with a glare, one that was more affectionate than filled with its usual malice reserved for everyone else.
You grin at his silent invitations once he beckons you into his room with a careless hand, telling you to close the door as he spins his chair to face you. Tomura's posture is as if he's sitting in a throne rather than a gaming chair, and your lips twitch at the sight—he notices your barely contained smile and sighs
"What do you want?" he murmurs, turning back to his monitor before he gets back to work. At least, that's what he hopes you think—he's clicking on random things, trying to look like he's busy or occupied with something. But the folder he closes and re-opens over and over doesn't go unnoticed by you.
"I see you've cleaned your room!" You grin, crossing your legs as you sit down on the edge of his newly made bed. Tomura rolls his eyes, folding a fist under his chin as his eyes stayed glued to his monitor
"Only 'cause you wouldn't stop nagging me about it. You're really annoying, you know that?"
Your smile only widens, and the sight makes something in Tomura's stomach flip. He ignores you, glaring at the screen in front of him and praying to the universe his heart would stop beating so fast already.
"I'm proud of you, Tomu. I know you don't hear it often from me, but I really mean it. I think you care more about this kind of stuff then you let on." You say softly, and you can see Tomura's muscles tense for just a second before they go slack—a sign that his undoing was truly your praise.
There's a light pink dust coating his cheek. He stares at you silently, blinking and waiting for you to continue on with something like "Ha, just kidding!" —anything to go against what you'd just said. But you're so sincere it almost hurts. Tomura's eyes widen a fraction when you hop off his bed with ease, moving past him and towards the door to leave—you're talking about how you're going to go pick up some dinner for the two of you from the corner store, sending him a cheeky grin he knew far too well before you placed a chaste kiss onto his cheek
"See you later, Tomu!"
Tomura stares at the door for a full minute after it closes. Then, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and slumps in his chair. For the first time in a while, Tomura cries. He cries because you're the kindest person he'd ever known.
Your son looks nothing like Tomura.
It's still Tomura's son, of course. But the boy grasping your hand right now has black hair, mused from the wind outside and wide brown eyes—sparkling with youth and joy. In his small hands is a card, and he holds it with vigor as he walks with you, chatting about his day at kindergarten today.
Of the pictures online, Tomura is depicted as a monster, with untamable white hair and the cruelest red eyes. That wasn't your Tomura, you had the pleasure of knowing the real one.
"I really hope dad likes my card. Ma, did you know I got to use my new markers in class today? Kenji even said they're the coolest markers ever! They draw so well!"
Your son's smile reminds you of a certain someone. You'd only seen the subdued look of genuine happiness in Tomura's eyes—he could never be truly happy after all he'd been through. Your son's emotions were more fleshed out—he is what Tomura never could be. Happy.
"That's nice, Tenko. I'm glad you liked those markers. How about this, we have a drawing competition with those very same ones after we're done visiting your father, okay?" You smile, gently pinching his cheek as he nods enthusiastically with a toothy grin. His eyes catch sight of something behind you—and he's off running a second later.
"Careful!" you laugh, following his excited footsteps as he finds the familiar headstone with the name Tenko Shimura engraved neatly on the top. Carefully, you pick up the old bouquet you'd left last week on his grave and replace it with the new one you and your son had picked up this morning.
Tenko launches into a full story about his newest comic after carefully placing his card down onto the grass, curling up against his father's headstone—giggling and smiling wistfully as he tells him all about his day.
Naming your son after Tomura was oddly fulfilling.
Your son is everything Tomura could have been if love had found him sooner—he could’ve been happy. The world was cruel, but it also gave you Tomura. It allowed you to love him, even if you came too late. Even if he was too far gone. And even after all that happened, Tomura didn't leave you all by yourself.
While Tomura's eyes are different from Tenko's—they both had the same enamoured gleam in them whenever they looked at you.
Tenko falls asleep by sunset, and you take your time talking to Tomura. You tell him about your new job, you tell him how Tenko found one of his old video games in your attic and has been playing it nonstop, and you tell him you miss him.
"—a fucking lot. I can't believe you're gone, Tomu. I see you every night in my dreams."
You glance down at the little boy in your arms, running a soothing hand through his hair to confirm he's asleep before smiling sadly.
"I almost followed right behind you. I would have—I woke up in a hospital with no idea that you were gone. Then, they told me I had this little miracle blooming in my stomach and gosh—it was almost like i could hear your laughter ringing in my head." You whisper, remembering the day Tomura died. It was night now, but your town was luckily safe enough for you and your son to go out and visit the nearby graveyard. Though there may be no body laying beneath, the headstone is enough for you to feel closer to Tomura.
You tip your head towards the sky, resting your cheek against the side of his grave. There was a night, you can't remember when—when Tomura confessed he liked your smile.
So, that's what you do. You smile towards the stars and picture Tomura hanging amongst them in the sky—watching you forever. Tomura liked to call you a treasure sometimes. Something good in a world that's rotten.
"You're special to me. So, please don't miss me too much if this all goes wrong. I'd hate to see you sad."
Your fingertips quickly press against your eyes, and you slump against his grave with a whimper. You allow yourself to cry only because your son isn't awake to see it. You cry because you'll have to mourn Tomura for longer than you've known him.
It hurts. That night when you go to bed is the same as all the previous ones. You dream of Tomura and his gentle smile. The only thing that lulls you to sleep is the prospect that maybe, just maybe—he's finally at peace.
‣ Summary: Katsuki is convinced that you and Eijirou are in love with each other, but not him. He tries to do what he thinks is right by keeping his feelings suppressed and hidden from you, instead of trying to get between the happiness of the two people he loves the most. His plan quickly begins to fall apart the moment you confront him, and his selfish urges take over.
‣ Warnings: Angst, Katsuki being sad and having low self-esteem, false unrequited love, making out, Reader uses the “girl’s” elevator (but we can just pretend gender plays no part in the placement of the dorm rooms in this scenario), the word “fuck” is used a lot, repeated use of a "noose" metaphor? idk
‣ Word Count: 6,350
‣ A/N: This is more of a Katsuki-centric fic, with a bonus fluffy kiribaku blurb at the end!
There is a Katsuki x Reader version of this here, if you’re interested!
Main Masterlist
Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.
He had begrudgingly accepted this truth a long time ago. Despite how it appeared on the surface, he was quite self-aware. Sure, it didn’t require that much self-reflection to figure it out, considering he’d been told this very truth by others around him multiple times throughout his life—at least by the ones that were brave enough to do so—but that’s beside the point. He still came to be aware of it, one way or another.
He could remember the early days of his youth as a spoiled, entitled brat. Even before his quirk developed, he always poised himself as superior to others. He was as selfish as they came. Throwing fits when he didn’t get his way, hurting people around him to ease the raging storm of feelings that were too big for his tiny body, always stealing the spotlight from others, expecting praise and rewards for every little thing he did. Kids are inherently selfish, to some degree, but little Katsuki blew every kid in his grade out of the water, in this regard.
Things didn’t improve all that much as he grew older, but he did get a little better. At least he no longer threw tantrums over not getting ice cream after school or every time he was told “no.” And he no longer sought praise for merely breathing. He preferred to truly earn his title as “the best” at whatever he decided to do—even if that meant knocking some other kids down to get there faster. A minor improvement, but his selfish nature was still wildly out of control. Even when he did recognize it, he didn’t care enough to fix it. He was already seen as an asshole, what was the point in trying to change the minds of people he saw as below him?
It wasn’t until he broke free of his ass-kissing, follower friends and met you, Eijirou, and the other friends "extras" from UA that he finally began to really see and care about his selfish ways—especially how they affected the people he truly respected and cared about. Katsuki wasn’t devoid of a heart, despite what many people believed. He wasn’t incapable of feeling remorse for his actions and of learning how to be a better person. He just never had the proper tools or guidance to be able to grow into the person that he, deep down, wanted to be.
That, and he didn’t have the same motivation before as he suddenly did when you and Eijirou stepped into his life. You pushed him to be better, just by being yourselves. Katsuki was inspired by you from the moment he met you. The way you carried yourselves and the way you managed to handle him and all that came with being his friend. It only made him respect you more. And as he inevitably began to fall for you, he felt the desire to be a better person for you grow even stronger. He wanted to prove to you that he was worth keeping around, even if he wasn’t always “the best” at everything. The last thing he wanted was to lose you over his problematic ways.
To his luck, you and Eijirou were some of the most tolerant people he had ever met. That didn’t mean you never called him out on his shit, though. Katsuki deeply valued you for that. He had grown to be more open and accepting of critical feedback, specifically if it came from you and Eijirou. How could he become a great hero, never mind a great man, if he refused any and all feedback that wasn’t positive?
That said, it still wasn’t easy for him to so easily accept when he was wrong. And it was even more difficult for him to push past his pride enough to apologize for it. But all it took was one look from you or Eijirou to make him give in and do just that. How you managed to gain such power over him, he’d never understand. If he wasn’t so damn in love with you, he’d hate you for it.
He still hated you for it. But in a “fuck you for making me love you so much” kind of way.
If it wasn't for his internal commitment to be a better person—one that you could be proud to know—he would have given into his selfish urges, stolen your hearts, and marked his claim on them a long time ago.
Katsuki had quickly come to learn that being a good person sucks.
“Oh, Eiji texted. He said he’ll be here soon! I invited him. Figured you wouldn’t mind. He said he needs all the help he can get for this upcoming exam,” you said as you began typing a message back to him.
“Fucking hell.”
“Huh?”
You looked up at Katsuki after hearing him grumble something unintelligible under his breath. His eyes met yours for only a brief moment before he averted his gaze, gesturing to the open books in front of you.
“Nothing. Get back to studying! Do you wanna pass that exam, or what?”
You threw your head back as you groaned. “Can’t we just take a little break? Eiji’s not even here yet and we have so much time left to work on this!”
Katsuki pointed his pen at you. “You might have time, but I don’t. You’re lucky I’m even using my spare time to help you idiots with this!”
You rolled your eyes. “You wanted to study for this test too. And you’re the one always preaching about how it’s important to take breaks!”
Before he could respond, you shut your book and looked at him inquisitively.
“So…what were you thinking about before? You looked…more annoyed than usual. Am I annoying you?”
“What the hell do you mean? I don’t look like anything!”
He could see you trying to stifle a laugh, though behind it was a glint of concern in your eyes.
“You look like something is really bothering you, is all.”
“Yeah. You are! Shut up and get back to work,” he growled, though you felt no real malice behind it. You had quickly learned long ago not to take the hotheaded blonde’s rude attitude seriously, often times finding it to be more of a protective shield than anything else.
“Okay, whatever you say,” you said, holding your hands up defensively with a slightly amused smirk on your face. Katsuki huffed in response as he looked away.
Giggling at his strange, yet all too familiar behavior, you opened your textbook again, only to be distracted less than a minute later by another ding from your phone. Katsuki could already tell it was another text from Eijirou by the way you smiled at your screen when you read it. You only ever smiled like that when reading the redhead’s messages, much to Katsuki’s chagrin.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki thought as he stared at you from across the table, frustration and hurt bubbling within his chest.
The truth was, you had the strange ability to make his heart flutter and his stomach do flips and his hands sweaty and fill his brain with so many thoughts of you, it couldn’t focus on anything else. You did all this just by existing as your stupidly beautiful, perfect self.
You even made him feel this way when you looked your “worst”. Beaten up after a bad fight, sleep deprived with bags under your eyes, after—very ungracefully—shoving a giant serving of food into your mouth, just waking up with messy hair and crusty eyes and morning breath, sick with snot constantly leaking out of your nose. All of this and he was still head over heels, swooning over you like a fool. And dammit, did it piss him off.
Even worse, he knew you had feelings for your redheaded friend and not him. He couldn’t blame you for this. He also found himself feeling similarly towards Eijirou, as he did you. He was a damn lovable idiot. A good guy, all around. The kind of man Katsuki wished he could be more like.
He couldn’t blame Eijirou for loving you either. As far as Katsuki was concerned, how could anyone not fall for either of you?
Katsuki loved your entire personality -even the parts that frustrated him most. Especially those parts. On top of that, you were absolutely gorgeous. When he begrudgingly thought of you and Eijirou together, without him, he couldn’t deny that the two of you would make an amazing couple—looks-wise and personality-wise.
It infuriated him to no end. He wanted to hate you both, push you away, relocate somewhere far away so that he’d no longer have to bear the pain of seeing the two of you flirting together, holding hands, laughing at each other’s jokes, hugging one another, and inevitably doing all the things that couples do. All the things that Katsuki wanted so desperately to do with you both.
But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. There was no way he could bring himself to not only truly hate you, but to go on living life without you both. He would likely never admit it, but you had become so interwoven in his life and his heart, that an existence without you just seemed so bleak and empty.
So, as much as it pained him to sit through hangouts and study sessions and the like, all while bearing witness to how close, how touchy, how obviously in love, you and Eijirou were with one another and not him, he chose to stick around and keep his mouth shut. He made a solemn promise to himself not to utter a word about his feelings to either of you, ever.
For once, he saw exactly what he wanted, right in front of him, and he chose not to take it. He chose not to ruin whatever closeness he did have with the two of you. But more importantly, he chose not to ruin you and Eijirou’s chances at finding the happiness that you both deserved, far more than he did.
It was the most selfless thing he’d ever done. And it was the hardest thing he’d ever done too. He felt his heart break every time he saw the affectionate way you treated one another, but he bit his tongue. He tried to shove his feelings down deeper and deeper, but they kept coming back up, tightening around his throat like a noose until he choked.
The truth became quite apparent to him at one point. Loving you both from afar would be his undoing. And maybe he deserved it? Maybe this was his punishment for being an asshole and tearing others down for his own benefit for all those years.
He’d take his punishment. Just so long as he could continue to know you, even if he wanted to know you so much more.
God, he fucking loved hated you.
After the previous day’s study session, Katsuki needed a break from the two of you. He planned to spend most of the day training and holed up in his dorm, just to avoid you both as much as possible; to set his mind straight and get his feelings back where they belonged—locked away in a dark unlabeled box in his mind, along with all of his other unwanted thoughts and feelings. He was starting to lose his composure around you, and when that happened, he always tried to stay out of your way for a few days until he was “fine” again.
“Fine” had lost all its meaning months ago, and yet, he found himself saying it all too often.
“You okay, Kats? You’re not really on your A game today,” you said as you walked over to help him off the ground for the second time that day.
Katsuki scoffed, a low growl brewing in his throat as he spoke. “I’m fuckin’ fine. Wasn’t planning on having you idiots around, distracting me.”
You and Eijirou seemed to have the same idea about working out and training that day. Katsuki ran into you both on his way to the gym. Almost turned around and booked it back to the dorms, but you happened to see him and waved him over to join you. Both of you smiled happily as you greeted him. It pissed him off so much, but he couldn’t say no to you when you both looked so damn cute, asking him to join you with those sharp teeth and pretty eyes sparkling as you looked up at him.
He wanted to curse you both out. Tell you to fuck off and leave him alone.
Get out of his fucking head, already! Stop torturing him with those fucking adorable smiles that made his heart clench in his chest! Stop being so fucking nice to him!
But he bit his tongue, salvaged whatever little composure and willpower he had left, and joined you both to train.
And he fucking sucked the whole time. It only added to his inner turmoil even more. He was too distracted. Too focused on you and Eijirou and the way you both looked so fucking good when you were focused, when you had sweat dripping down your skin, when you were looking at him with those determined eyes while sparring, when you didn’t hold back against him.
At least the two of you were more focused on him than each other, at the moment. Katsuki had insisted that you both took turns going against him until he kicked both of your asses. He was on round three, at this point. He had lost to you both a total of three times in a row.
He knew that you and Eijirou were starting to question his strange behavior lately. He practically stormed out of his own dorm the day prior during your study session together. He didn’t say a word. Just got up and left.
Why?
Because you and Eijirou. That’s why.
When he came back, things were awkward as the two of you tried to ask him about it. He didn’t look at either of you when he told you to leave, not wanting you to see his red, glossy eyes.
It was embarrassing, to feel this weak.
Eijirou knocked on his door later that evening to talk to him. He didn’t answer.
Now the two of you were obviously trying to pretend that everything was normal, for his sake, trying to gently coax whatever was bothering him out of his system in hopes that he’d come around and get out of whatever shitty headspace he was in. You were being good friends, like usual. Always so attentive and thoughtful and caring.
He wanted to scream.
This time, he managed to defeat Eijirou, but he could tell his moves were slightly slower. He was going fucking easy on him. The redhead giving him a pity win only managed to send Katsuki over the edge.
By the time it was your turn, he wasn’t even fully present in his body anymore. All he was focused on was winning one round. Just one solid win was all he needed.
He moved on autopilot, blocking and countering all your attacks swiftly as they came. Thankfully, you weren’t holding back. For a moment, he felt like he was finally winning at something. The suffocating feelings began to dissipate as the adrenaline high began to kick in, filling him with a sense of power and control.
Until you called for a pause.
“What the fuck! Why?!” he barked, smoke wafting off of his hot hands.
Eijirou held a hand out at him, signaling him to back off as he ran towards you. “Chill the fuck out man, they're hurt!”
“Huh?”
It was only then that he realized you were holding your weight on one leg, struggling to keep yourself balanced as you tried to stand on your own. Eijirou was quick to catch you before you fell.
You had an ugly burn on your leg from one of his explosions. He thought he had released it far enough away from you to dodge it. He was clearly wrong.
Katsuki’s head was fuzzy as he stared at you, frozen in place. Eijirou inspected your wound, offering you sweet words of comfort and praise as he carefully wrapped it with gauze.
Damn it.
Katsuki could barely breathe now. The noose growing tight around his throat again.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl.” Eijirou lifted you up into his arms with ease, carrying you out of sight.
Your little whimper of pain shot straight through his heart.
Fuck.
“Come on, Katsuki!” Eijirou called out to him, slight urgency in his voice.
Katsuki remained frozen where he stood, hands clenched and chest heaving as he tried to fight back the tears that were building in his eyes. A million thoughts and feelings swirled inside of him, threatening to burst through the seams of his being.
“Kats?” Your voice sounded distant. It echoed in the background of his mind before it fully reached him.
“Go on without me,” was all he could say. He cringed at the way his voice wavered when he said it.
“Come on, man. You should-”
“Go!” Katsuki yelled, interrupting Eijirou’s attempt to change his mind.
All he heard after that was the sound of Eijirou’s footsteps as they faded away.
You and Eijirou had tried to reach out to Katsuki for four days. He somehow managed to avoid the two of you at every turn. He mostly stayed locked up in his dorm when school wasn’t in session. All calls went to voicemail. All texts left on read.
The two of you even went as far as to try to get Sero or Mina to check in on him. Denki offered to give it a shot, but you declined. You both knew he’d probably only aggravate him more, despite his best intentions.
Every plan of yours failed.
At one point, you couldn’t take it anymore and ended up crying to sleep in Eijirou’s arms one night. He shed a few tears himself as he tried to soothe your sadness and worry; all the while, he was struggling just as much.
You both missed your best friend. And despite your reassuring comments to each other that he would come back soon, that he just needed some space, you were both starting to crumble under the fear that maybe he wouldn’t. He had been acting strange lately, even before the most recent event occurred.
What if you had upset him? What if he was tired of being your friend? What if you were holding him back somehow?
Your thoughts spun in circles in your mind until you began to feel dizzy and sick to your stomach. After tossing and turning for hours that night, you headed down to the kitchen to make yourself some tea in hopes that it’d finally help you quiet your mind enough to allow you to get some much-needed sleep.
Thankfully, it did, because by the time Katsuki walked into the room to get some water after he couldn’t sleep, you were passed out with your head on the table, your hair sprawled out messily around you and your half-empty mug of cold tea.
You looked beautiful.
“Fuck you,” Katsuki cursed you in his head as he stared down at your hunched over, sleeping form.
The common room was so quiet this late at night, he could clearly hear your little breaths with every rise and fall of your chest. He spotted drool slightly dripping out of one side of your parted lips.
The sight made his heart flutter.
On your feet, he spotted those cute fluffy bunny slippers that him and Eijirou picked out for you one day at the mall. He remembered that day with fondness, how you all worked together in teams to find a pair of slippers for each other. In the end, Eijriou was happy to receive shark slippers and Katsuki was surprised with Grumpy Cat slippers. He could still hear both of your laughs as you made a comment about how his face matched his slippers perfectly.
Dammit, he missed your laughs so much.
He huffed in a mixture of sadness and frustration as he turned to walk away, only to stop himself in his tracks after a few steps. He took one look back at you over his shoulder before sighing in defeat.
Walking closer, he worked up the courage to wake you and subsequently face you for the first time in four days. What came out was much more aggressive than he intended.
“Oi!”
You jumped and his heart clenched slightly. He bit the inside of his cheek as you looked up at him, sleepy and confused.
“Ka’ski?” your sweet voice, thick with sleep, filled his ears. He clenched his fists, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth.
“Go to your dorm. You’re gonna end up with a fucked up neck and back sleeping like that, idiot.”
He began to walk away after that, heading towards the elevator at the end of the room. He didn’t get far, though. The unpleasant screech of a chair on the hard floor, followed by the far more pleasant feeling of your hand wrapped around his wrist stopped him right in his tracks.
“Wait!”
“Go to bed, Y/N,” Katsuki warned. The last thing he wanted was to have whatever conversation you were attempting to start with him.
“No. I can’t sleep, anyway. I just keep worrying about you. Please. Just tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to fix it,” you implored.
Katsuki was tense under your grip, but he didn’t try to pull away, even as he let out a loud huff of frustration.
“Just fuck off, okay? There’s nothing you can do.”
You stared at the back of his head with so much pain and sadness in your eyes. Katsuki could feel your gaze on him. He knew better than to look back at you. That look alone would break his heart more than anything else could.
“I won’t ever stop trying, Katsuki. And neither will Eiji. We care about you so much. We miss you so badly. Please, just talk to me. If not me, then Eiji.” Your voice was starting to waver slightly as you spoke. Katsuki hated himself for being the reason behind your sadness and tears.
Even still, he couldn’t let you in on this. Neither you, nor Eijirou, could know. He just needed more time to sort out his feelings and lock them away, where they belonged. But after four days, he was still struggling to get himself back in order. All of it was starting to consume him, distract him, make him perform badly as a student and a hero in training. That part only encouraged him to avoid the two of you even more. He wasn’t going to let stupid feelings ruin everything he had worked so hard for.
His silence only pushed you to speak again.
“Katsuki?”
“No.” He pulled away from your grip, but you reached out to grab him again.
“Katsuki, please!”
He spun around to face you, eyes brimming with tears as he yelled in your face.
“What?! You just can't leave shit alone, can you?! Just fuck off, already!”
You looked at him with heartbroken eyes, biting your lower lip to suppress its quivering as tears began to fall down your face.
Fuck.
Katsuki inhaled sharply as his broken and battered heart shattered to pieces in his chest. Both of you were silent as you stared at one another, unsure of how to progress the conversation without breaking into a fit of tears.
“Fuck, I’m…I’m sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, voice just audible as he looked down at the ground between you. “Just leave me alone, okay? You and Ei are better off without me, anyway.”
He pulled away from your grip and this time, you didn’t reach for him again. However, your voice still followed him as he walked further away from you.
“How could you say that? You mean the world to us, Kats! We’re fucking lost without you! We need you. If this is about the other day, just forget about it. I’m fine. All is forgiven-”
“It’s not just about that.” He stopped in his tracks once more, back facing you.
“Then what is it about? Are you mad at me or Eijirou?”
Katsuki shook his head. Your confusion and desperation drew you closer to him. His feet remained glued to the floor.
“You’re not mad?”
“I-“ Katsuki stopped himself. “Just fuck off, Y/N. I’m not going to talk about it.”
“Why not?”
“Because!”
“Katsuki!”
"BECAUSE I- ugh!" he growled, "because it would be selfish of me to tell you! It’d only make things worse! I'm trying to be...fucking better than that."
You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued.
“It was selfish of me to stick around as long as I did. I should’ve just left the two of you be a long time ago. I thought I could-” He sighed. “Never mind. Point is, it’s gone too far. You even got hurt because of my stupid bullshit.”
“What has gone too far? Katsuki, stop talking like this. You’re not going anywhere. Let’s go wake Eiji and we’ll talk this out.” There was a clear presence of fear in your tone as you reached out to grab his left hand that was clenched in a tight fist at his side.
He ripped himself away from you. “No. This conversation is over.”
The way he spoke, his voice quiet, lacking any of his usual attitude, made your stomach twist in knots. He sounded so sad, so weak, completely defeated. It was completely unlike him, and it scared the shit out of you.
“I give you full permission to be selfish! Just fucking look at me! Tell me what’s wrong!” you begged.
At this point, you were seconds away from getting on your knees just to get his attention, or at the very least, pity. You couldn’t let him walk out of this room. You knew the chances of getting him to open up to you again after this were slim to none. This was it. You had to fight harder; show him you weren’t giving up on him, no matter how hard he pushed you away.
Katsuki was silent, but you could see the way his hands trembled at his sides; his head hung low, his chest heaving. You waited with bated breath behind him, praying he wouldn’t walk away.
Surprisingly, after what felt like a millennium, he turned to face you, his head still facing the floor.
You were scared to make the wrong move, as if you were faced with a small, wounded animal that could scurry off if you so much as breathed the wrong way.
“Kats?” you whispered softly. “It’s okay.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
“Why do you say that? Katsuki, look at me.” You stepped forward and raised your hand, gently lifting his chin up so you could finally meet his eyes. What you saw broke your heart.
Red eyes glossed over with tears, lower lip quivering as he tried and failed to stifle the emotions that seemed to overtake him. Your eyes only filled with more tears of your own as you stared back at him sadly.
“I don’t want to see you happy without me,” he whispered, breaking the silence between the two of you.
Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“I want to be the reason you are happy. I want to give you everything you deserve and more. Both of you.”
“Katsuki…You do make us happy. If anything, we are the least happy when you’re not around,” you said, fingers tracing down his wrist and giving his hand a small squeeze once he allowed you to grasp it. He only seemed to grow more upset at this as he looked down at your interlocked hands.
“But you don’t want me, you want each other.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, we wa-” You froze as realization hit you. “Wait…”
Katsuki made a tsk sound. "Looks like you finally got it. Took you long enough."
You blinked at him. "I- Kats, if you have something to tell me, you better say it now."
"I think you know. Why don't you tell me?"
He was too scared to say it and you knew it.
"Katsuki-"
"Tell me."
You sighed, suddenly growing nervous as you began to second-guess if what you were about to say was actually correct. Katsuki's hold on your hand grew tighter as he awaited your answer. If he wasn't so focused on what you were about to say, he'd be embarrassed about the growing dampness between your palms.
"I...do you....do you have...feelings....for me and Eiji?"
Katsuki’s silence was all the confirmation you needed. You let out a breath of relief.
“Kats-”
“Do you?” he asked, before clarifying. “Have feelings for me? If the answer is ‘no’, say it now and we’ll never speak about it again.”
You stepped closer to him, slippers touching his as you looked at him with soft eyes.
"What if the answer is ‘yes’?" you whispered.
For a moment, you both exchanged glances between eyes and lips, your hearts racing as you awaited the other’s move.
Finally, Katsuki spoke.
"Do I still have permission to be selfish?"
You nodded, and before you knew it, his hands were on either side of your face, and his lips were crashing against yours.
He pushed you against the nearby wall, never breaking his lips from yours, as he kissed you hungrily, desperately, lovingly. You ran your fingernails up the nape of his neck, weaving your fingers through his messy blond locks and earning a groan from him as he pulled you closer by your hips and deepened the kiss even more.
By the time he came up for air, you were both panting heavily. His grip on your hips didn’t loosen and neither did yours around his neck as you stared at each other speechlessly.
After a moment, your lips formed into a smile.
“We’ve been wanting to tell you,” you confessed.
Katsuki’s soft smile quickly faded into a bewildered frown. “Hah?”
“Eijirou and I, we want you, Katsuki. As far more than a friend.”
Katsuki visibly stopped breathing for a brief moment. You nervously continued to speak.
“But there’s no pressure or anything! We just wanted to talk to you about how we feel, not just for each other, but for you. Every time we’d try, you stormed off, or were clearly out of it, so we were too nervous to bring it up.”
“How long?”
Now it was your turn to look confused.
“What?”
“How long have you and Eijirou been talking about this?”
“Well, we confessed to each other almost two weeks ago-”
“Two weeks?! Fuck you!” he cursed.
You gasped. “Hey! Watch it, mister!”
“Fuck you for ruining my life by making me love you so goddamn much! And fuck both of you for not telling me sooner and letting me suffer! Do you have any idea how painful it has been watching the two of you idiots and your stupid cutesy, touchy, flirty bullshit, every single day?” he ranted, obviously frustrated, but not truly directed at you.
“Aw, Kats…We didn’t realize-”
“’Course you didn’t! You were too wrapped up in each other! I always thought you’d never return my feelings because it was obvious you two were obsessed with each other.”
This time, he sounded sad. You cupped his face with your hands, gently running your thumbs over his soft cheeks.
“We have always been obsessed with you too, Kats. It’s not that we didn’t want to be that way with you too. We were just never quite sure about your feelings for us and we didn’t want to cross any lines or make you uncomfortable,” you explained.
He let out a sigh, eyes closing as he relaxed into your touch.
“We should talk with Ei tomorrow,” you said.
He nodded in agreement, soaking up the feeling of your touch; something he had dreamed of and desperately craved for so long. Finally, his dreams were coming true. He was melting between the palms of your hands, and he couldn't have been happier about it.
Now that he'd had a taste, he'd be damned if he were to ever let you go.
“You’re mine now. Got it?” he said, his hands slightly squeezing your hips as he looked into your eyes.
You smirked amusingly at him. “Woah there, don’t get too selfish now. You gotta share.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. I don't mind sharing. So long as it's with Shitty Hair, I can manage. That doesn’t mean you’re not mine, though!”
You giggled, pulling him in for another kiss, to which he happily obliged. This time, he kissed you back tenderly, savoring every second of your soft lips on his. You melted into him completely, allowing him to pull you even closer against him, his strong arms keeping you locked in place.
You placed a hand on his chest at one point, signaling that you needed air. He grunted before reluctantly pulling away.
He pressed his forehead against yours, smirking at the way you grew visibly flustered under his intensely loving gaze.
“It’s late. W-We should get to bed.”
He hummed in response. “Fine.”
Taking your hand, he walked you over to the elevator across the room, both of you still silently processing all that had just happened until you finally reached the large metal doorway.
You stepped inside the elevator, bidding him goodnight.
“Night,” he said, turning around and beginning to walk away.
His feet came to a halt when he felt a sudden, familiar urge take over him, and this time, he didn’t fight it. Before he knew it, he had his arm between the metal doors, forcing them to reopen.
“Kats-”
He interrupted you by crashing his lips against yours once more, cradling your face in his hands as he kissed you with everything he had. Every skipped beat of his heart, every pang in his stomach, every moment of longing, every loving thought he’d ever had of you flashed through his mind. For once, he wasn’t concerned about ruining anything, of hurting anyone, of losing you. All he cared about was satisfying the insufferable itch of longing and desire he’d carried for you all this time.
Finally, the noose was gone, the bad feelings dissipating while the others became one with his being. He could breathe again.
When he pulled away, he was smiling. He was happy.
And you were too. Happy because of him. Happy with him.
“You should be selfish more often,” you said, still trying to catch your breath.
Katsuki stopped the doors from closing in on him, his eyes still locked on you as he let out a chuckle.
“That’s a first. Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
He backed out of the elevator, finally allowing the doors to close. You stared at him as heat rushed to your face, capturing a glimpse of his growing smirk until he was no longer in sight.
Katsuki Bakugou was a selfish man.
And oh, did you love every bit of him.
*The next day*
"Mannn...I can't believe you guys kissed for the first time and I wasn't even there for it!" Eijirou whined, an adorable pout on his face as he looked between the two of you.
"Are you jealous, Eiji?" you teased, lightly nudging him with your elbow.
"Yes! Do you know how long I've been waiting to kiss you both? It's been torture holding out from kissing you while waiting for Katsuki to get on board, and now I've come to find out that you two were making out for the first time without me?!"
Katsuki shrugged, nodding towards you. "They gave me permission. Blame them."
Eijirou scoffed. "I sure hope they did!"
"He means, I gave him permission to be selfish. I didn't know he was going to kiss me when I said that," you clarified.
"Oh, you knew, and you sure as hell didn't stop me."
"Well, of course not!" you said.
Katsuki smirked at you and you felt heat rush to your face. A brief knowing look was shared between the two of you as you recalled the events of the previous night.
Eijirou watched your silent interaction, his pout increasing as he whined. "I wanna kiss you both too!"
"You snooze, you lose," Katsuki said, breaking his stare away from you and taking a sip of his coffee.
Eijirou narrowed his eyes at him. "Scratch that. I definitely don't wanna kiss you right now."
"Hey!" Katsuki barked, looking at the redhead offendedly.
You giggled at them both, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.
"Both of you, hush. We have plenty of time for kissing later. Now, let's get to work! We can't fail this exam!"
Katsuki rolled his eyes, trying to fight off the growing redness on his cheeks. "Now look who's all ready to study, for once."
"Well, we gotta make sure we all pass! I'm not being left in the dust by the two of you just because of one stupid failed exam!" you said.
Eijirou’s eyes softened as he looked at you. "Aw, hun, we would never."
Katsuki nodded in agreement. "Damn straight. I'll make sure both of you idiots pass, even if I have to jam all the information into your heads myself."
"That always works with me! Right, Kats?" Eijirou flashed his sharp toothy smile.
Katsuki hummed, growing even more flustered over how cute the redhead looked when he smiled at him like that. Thankfully, you managed to draw the attention away from him long enough for him to hide his fond smile. He couldn't let either of you know just how soft he was for you, yet.
A giggle fell past your lips as you spoke. "Good for you, Eiji. But I'd like to refrain from developing a concussion the day before the exam."
Katsuki’s attention moved back to you, a cocky smirk growing on his face. "I could always kiss the information into you."
Eijirou gasped. "What?! No fair!"
"Both of you, be quiet and focus! Or no kisses at all!”
. . .
That shut them right up.
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pro-hero! izuku midoriya who's not as sweet and innocent as you remember him, especially when he's pinned you beneath him.
↳ 1.9k - au-based, izuku never lost ofa and became the number one hero.
↳ cw: p in v, slight teasing, dirty talk, marking, multiple/implied multiple orgasms, fingering, reader gets called princess/baby/good girl/sweetheart, aftercare, general nsfw content.
🍑 masterlist | 🍒 ꒰ cross-posted on @/springismss ꒱
Looking around the semi-crowded street, you let a soft hum of annoyance pass your lips as you continued forward. Due to there being hardly any criminals for the past few days, you had found yourself, yet again, on patrol on a slow day. Not only were you patrolling, but you also caught glimpses of three other pro heroes who were in the area, looking as bored as you were.
A sudden chime in your ear made you stop as you looked at the other heroes, noticing they were still patrolling and talking to citizens. How odd. Lifting your finger, you tapped on the device and placed your free hand on your hip as you continued to scan the area out of habit. "What’s up?".
"Hey, can you come back to the office? We have someone coming and we want our best hero here when they arrive". Furrowing your brows, you glanced in the direction of the voice, opening your mouth to question the communication when they spoke again, seemingly reading your mind.
"And yes, it's been cleared. We've heard it's another slow day, so there's no need for you all to be out there".
Letting out a hum, you turned on your heel and began to make your way back to the agency you were working at. "Sure you're not trying to butter me up there? I'll be there in ten".
Walking through the doors, you stretched and sighed softly, the cool air of the air con lapping against your skin felt refreshing. You had a few spare moments before heading to the meeting room, so you opted to grab a drink, making your way to the meeting room not long after.
Opening the door with a click, you noticed quite a few of the other heroes you worked alongside already there. A sea of murmurs greeted you as you greeted them back, taking your place at the side while you all waited for whoever they had made you come back for.
Up front, you saw the owner of the agency standing there with another figure by their side, most likely their assistant, who called you back. "Ahh, there you are! Now that you're here, I can introduce you to the newest hero to join us-". Your boss lifted a hand and motioned to the door as eyes followed, looking at the door that was clicking open again.
Green was the only colour you could focus on as your eyes widened. You had to be seeing things; this couldn't be real, right? You had to be in some sort of dream. Yeah, that's right, a stupid dream. You and the rest of your classmates thought he'd disappeared, seemingly moving away to the other end of the country or beyond.
No one had heard from him in years. Yet there he was, walking past you as everyone followed with their gaze. "-The number one pro hero, Deku". A confident wave and bright smile replaced the once timid movements of the young boy you remembered.
As you tried to wrap your head around what you had just seen, a group began to form around the hero with words of excitement buzzing in the air.
By the time you had managed to somewhat comprehend things, the group had disappeared, giving you the perfect time to go over and say hello to an old friend. Would he recognise you? You'd doubted it, but it didn’t hurt to see. "Well, if it isn't Izuku Midoriya in the flesh".
The sudden intrusion of your words, and the fact that his name had been used, seemed to take him by surprise as he took a closer look at your face. It took him a moment longer than usual to put the pieces together, but he got there, eyes widening as you smiled brightly at him. "Sweetheart? Is that you?".
Ever since that day when you had both been reunited, the two of you had been virtually inseparable. Spending more time together, be that on missions or in general, had resulted in the two of you becoming close again. Closer than what you both had been before.
Then came the rumours that surrounded you both, some sweet and innocent and others downright dirty. Of course, the latter made Midoriya blush. He couldn't imagine people saying those things, and yet there they were, plain as day. You were nothing more than a friend to him.
Sure, it had been a good few years since he last saw you and the rest of your friends, but he couldn't deny it even if he tried; you had become a beautiful young woman. Foreign feelings stirred deep inside of him, feelings that caused his body and mind to react in ways he hadn’t had since he was a teen. Sure, he'd had partners, but none of them fired him up the way you did.
Feelings he thought he had buried were starting to resurface all over again. Starting to increase each time he was with you until he couldn't handle them any more, the way he felt became too much to bear. Doing the only thing he could think of at that time, acting on how he felt around you, something he should have done back when you were both younger.
Everything seemed to move in a bit of a blur. One minute, you were sitting on the couch in Midoriya's house with him, TV on in the background as you both sat talking about various things. The next minute, you were on your back, pinned to the cushions as you both shared a hot kiss. The feelings that poured out between you both during that kiss had been pent up for some time.
A dark blush covered his face as he pulled back, trying to catch his breath, frame hovering over your panting form. "I can't take it anymore, princess, I need to do something".
In what felt like mere seconds to you, articles of clothing had been scattered all over the floor before thick digits thrusted into your wet cunt, walls stretching deliciously, making you whine out at the burning desire you felt again. "Hah, Izuku, please. I need you".
His fingers disappeared, causing you to whine out from the sudden emptiness before his stout cock began to press deep within you. Pressing past the ring of resistance, as desperate moans sounded.
The overwhelming feeling of Midoriya stretching you made your back arch, hips wriggling as he buried himself deep inside. The pro hero took a moment to savour the feeling of your walls pulsating tightly around his cock, your needy cunt desperately trying to keep him there.
“Shit, you’re gripping me so good, princess. Like that pretty pussy was made for me”. Those words alone had you moaning out, hands grabbing any part of him you could. You had to keep yourself sane.
With the slow pull back of his hips, you gasped slightly as the emptying feeling until you felt him thrust hard back into you. You swear if your eyes could roll any further back than they were already, they would. Bringing your legs up, you wrapped them around his waist, ankles locking behind his back as you pulled him closer to you. Your fingers dug into his forearms, nails leaving crescent moon marks as you tried to ground yourself.
Green eyes glanced at the fucked out look on your face, before dragging down your body, watching the way your tits jiggled with each desperate thrust. Watching the way your body bounced in time with his movements, and the small sheen starting to cover your body. He was eager to show you how much he needed and wanted you, even after all these years. "Fuck, why did I wait this long to get in this cunt of yours?".
The words caught you off guard as a loud mewl slipped past your lips, hands flying to his back before you dragged your nails down, red marks being left against pale skin as you arched further into his body.
You could feel that knot in the pit of your gut tighten, and you knew, knew it wouldn’t be too long before you were crying out from the pleasure. You could already hear how wet you were; messy sloshing noises only added to the way you were feeling. "Izu, fuck, I'm gonna...".
His rough thrusts never ceased as he reached between you both, pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as his fingers pressed against the small bump he was creating inside you. “Come on, baby, let go for me, want to feel you all over”.
All it took was a few more harsh thrusts to have you lose your sanity, to have your back arch beautifully as you gasped out. Broken cry of Midoriya’s name sounded from your throat as your vision blurred. You were almost sure you felt some of your slick squirt out, no doubt coating not only his cock and thighs, but the sofa beneath you.
The overwhelming feeling of feeling full took over your now overly sensitive cunt, breathy moans sounding louder. “That’s a good girl, but I'm far from done, princess".
Before long, you’d lost all sense of time as you continued to be fucked senseless by the man above you.
Your legs were numb, your clit and cunt were overly stimulated, and your body began to grow tired. Despite that, you felt another wave of euphoria nearing, gripping Midoriya's arm as you anchored yourself, a strangled sob left your throat as tears slipped from your eyes. Your nails were sure to leave more marks, marks that would no doubt bleed, not that the pro seemed to mind.
Deep moans sounded from above you as you turned your watery, glassy stare to the man responsible for the state you were in. You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy, desperately rutting into you as he chanced his own euphoria.
After a few more sloppy thrusts, Midoriya let out a guttural moan, hips stalling as he filled your cunt with his cum. “Fuck, that’s it, baby, take it all. Going to fill you so full you’ll be dripping me for days”. The hot fluid seeping deep within you as sparks of his quirk flashed around you both.
Lifting your arm, you brought a hand up to his face and cupped it, guiding him down to your lips as you held him close. You took a moment to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, humming softly as you mumbled against the skin. “I love you, Izuku”.
The words took him by surprise, green eyes widening as they looked down at you, face still flushed as hair clung to you, offering his own sweet smile a moment after. “I know you do, and I love you too, princess”.
Wrapping his arms around you as best he could, he pulled his cock out of you. A moan of loss sounded from you before you felt yourself being moved, held close against his chest as he carried your sore body to the bathroom, helping clean you up once you were settled in the hot water.
A thumb rubbed the small of your back in a comforting manner. No words needed to be spoken, but at that point, you both knew what you were to each other. The feelings you both held were finally shared for the other to feel.
Although you had both been caught up in the throes of pleasure a few minutes ago, nothing could have prepared you for the words that were uttered next.
"Next time, I’ll show you that blackwhip is good for something other than restraining villains, sweetheart".
⋮ 𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆ when a private moment accidentally reveals you as famous streamer katsuki bakugo’s longtime girlfriend, his entire fanbase becomes obsessed with you, leaving the great dynamight to deal with the chaos of his fans falling in love with you while he aggressively defends you from anyone who crosses the line.
⧼ 🪼 ⧽ ∿ pairings 。 ⸝⸝ katsuki bakugo x fem!reader 𓄲 genre ⨾ tropes 。 alternative universe (au: streamer/gamer), romance, (secretly) established relationship, comedy, grumpy/sunshine, fluff 𓏲 contains 。 ᵎᵎ language, extreme pda, suggestive content, sexual tension, slight voyeurism (?), fan comments ꩜ ⋆.˚ word count 。 7.2k ꔛ
꒰ star speaks ꒱ ✮ hello tumblr! here is my first piece in my new blog! obviously i have to start with my baby kats. . . this was inspired by a number tiktok headcanon posts of streamer / gamer katsuki and i wanted to do my own spin on it, so credits goes to those who have done this trope! hope you guys enjoy! ( p.s. i know nothing about streaming and gaming and had to research like a mf, so please excuse whatever inaccuracies and mistakes i made! ) 🩵
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katsuki bakugo is a lot of things.
most people who have watched even five minutes of his streams can list them easily.
loud, aggressive, volatile, hot-blooded, arrogant, and prideful.
he carries himself like someone who refuses to lose and even more reluctant to admit he could ever be wrong. his temper is famous on the internet, the kind of temper that explodes without warning when a teammate misses a shot or when his chat decides to push his patience just a little further than usual.
he yells a lot. that part is not exaggerated.
in the middle of a ranked match, with the glow of his monitor lighting the sharp lines of his face, he leans forward in his chair and snaps into his mic.
“are you blind?! i literally pinged the corner five seconds ago, dumbass!”
his keyboard clacks loudly under his fingers as he switches weapons and swings his character around with the accuracy of someone who has been doing this for a long time and knows exactly what he is doing.
“chat, shut the fuck up! i know how to play the damn game!”
a flood of laughing messages scrolls up the side of the screen and that only makes him more irritated.
“yeah, yeah, keep talking. none of you could last two seconds in this lobby.”
his voice is rough with annoyance and completely unfiltered, a tone that would probably get most people reported if they tried it online.
katsuki does not care. he never has.
he plays like he lives, intense and relentless, never satisfied with anything except first place. even through the camera you can feel the sharp edge of his personality, the way his pride burns hot under everything he does. losing irritates him, mistakes irritate him, people who waste his time irritate him even more... everything irritates him at this point.
he calls people idiots, then he calls them extras, and sometimes he calls them much worse. and yet the strange thing about katsuki bakugo is that beneath all that noise and attitude sits something else entirely.
ambition.
he pushes himself harder than anyone watching can see. every match is played like it's the only thing that matters. every round becomes a personal challenge he refuses to lose. he studies games the same way some people study textbooks. he memorizes maps, tracks cooldown timers in his head, learns how players move before they even realize what they are doing.
when a new competitive shooter releases, it does not take long before his name starts appearing at the top of ranked leaderboards.
people tune in expecting yelling and chaos, but they stay because the guy behind the screen is genuinely terrifying at what he does.
his reaction time borders on absurd. his aim is precise enough that other high ranked players openly complain about running into him during matches. he reads situations quickly and adapts even faster, switching strategies mid-game without missing a beat.
there are moments during streams when the yelling stops completely. the room grows quiet except for the sounds of the game.
his vermillion eyes stay locked on the screen, focused and sharp, while his hands move over his keyboard and mouse with quick, controlled motions. his mouth presses into a thin line as he concentrates, shoulders slightly forward, posture steady.
during those moments he looks different. he looked dangerous in a calmer way.
this is the side of him that earned him his name.
dynamight.
well... technically the full name is great explosion murder god dynamight, a name he declared himself during an early stream with complete seriousness.
the internet immediately refused to call him that entire thing.
dynamight stuck.
and now that name sits comfortably at the very top of every streaming chart that matters.
the number one and most followed streamer online right now.
he is known everywhere for the same reasons: his explosive attitude, his complete lack of a filter, and the way he says whatever he wants into the mic with absolutely no hesitation.
every few months some part of the internet decides he has gone too far again and gets “canceled.”
a clip spreads around social media of him snapping at chat or insulting someone in a match and people start yapping about canceling him. articles pop up questioning his attitude. a few trending hashtags appear for a day or two.
most of the time the “scandal” involves him yelling at viewers who deliberately provoke him. like the time someone in chat typed a long paragraph explaining how he should have played a round differently.
katsuki read it silently, then leaned closer to his mic.
“did i ask?”
the chat exploded with laughing emotes.
he kept going anyway.
“seriously. which one of you know-it-alls thought i needed a coaching session from someone who probably can’t even get out of bronze?”
or the time a teammate spent an entire match complaining through voice chat.
katsuki muted the guy halfway through the round and said flatly to his stream, “if i wanted to listen to whining i’d go to slaughterhouse.”
his language gets colorful sometimes.
“dunce face! shut the hell up for five fucking seconds so i can hear the footsteps!”
“with a brain like that i wouldn't be surprised if your parents are siblings.”
“go die on a hole, you fucking loser!”
none of it is particularly nice and none of it is particularly professional either. but somehow it works. because katsuki bakugo actually earns the arrogance he carries.
when he says he knows what he is doing, he proves it every single stream.
people watch him clutch impossible rounds where he is the last player alive against an entire team. they watch him land shots so quickly that viewers slow clips down frame by frame just to see what happened. they watch him climb ranked ladders in games that have barely been released yet.
it becomes difficult to argue with someone who keeps winning.
his personality ends up becoming entertainment on its own. viewers show up just to see what he will say next or who he will yell at today. the chat constantly tries to provoke him because his reactions are half the fun.
but there is another reason people keep watching.
a reason his haters complain about quietly and his fans talk about loudly.
his face.
people online can call katsuki bakugo a lot of things. rude, arrogant, loud, insufferable, completely full of himself.
but never ugly.
not once.
the camera quality on his stream is high enough that viewers can clearly see him while he plays. messy ash-blonde hair sticks out in stubborn spikes like he barely bothered fixing it before sitting down. his sharp eyes glow a deep vermillion under the light of his monitor. his jaw tightens whenever he focuses and the faint crease between his brows deepens when a match gets serious.
sometimes, in the middle of an intense game, he forgets to yell due to his intense focus.
those are the moments his fans wait for. in fact, clips of them appear everywhere online.
short videos cut from streams where dynamight sits silently at his desk, eyes narrowed at the screen, hands moving quickly across his keyboard while the game reflects faintly in his pupils. his expression stays serious and focused while the match builds toward its final moments.
in those clips he looks devastatingly attractive.
comments flood under every video.
why is he so hot when he shuts up.
someone please tell this man to stop concentrating like that!! i don't think my heart can take it!
i hate him, but also respectfully… he can get it.
the way he locks in during matches should be illegal. i mean... look. at. him!
i want him sooooo bad, it's not funny anymore bro.
fans zoom in on screenshots where his hair falls slightly into his eyes. others slow the footage to capture the exact second his lips press together in concentration.
it becomes a running joke across the fandom that dynamight is most dangerous when he stops talking.
yet even with millions of followers watching him every day, the man himself remains strangely distant.
no one knows very much about katsuki bakugo outside the stream.
everyone knows he is from japan because he mentioned it casually once during a late night broadcast, but he never gave a city or talked about his life there. he rarely mentions family, he does not talk about old friends, and he does not tell stories about childhood or school or anything that might reveal more about him.
the only social media he owns is connected directly to his streaming platforms. and an instagram account that account has millions of followers... it also has zero posts.
no photos, no occasional stories, nothing. he doesn't even follow anyone.
the empty page somehow adds to the myth surrounding him. fans speculate endlessly about why he even made the account if he refuses to use it. some claim he forgot the password while others insist he just not someone who would post pictures of himself... or anything of that matter.
katsuki never explains himself either. the mystery becomes part of his brand whether he intended it or not.
another topic that constantly circulates in his fandom involves something far more personal.
his type.
more specifically whether he even has one.
viewers debate it endlessly in forums and comment sections.
does he like women? does he like men? does he like anyone at all?
some fans joke that someone with his temper probably does not have the patience for relationships. others argue that someone out there must be capable of putting up with him. sometimes the conversation gets more ridiculous.
there are entire threads on reddit where people try to figure out if he might secretly be married. someone once suggested he could even have kids.
that idea usually gets shut down quickly.
most viewers agree that katsuki bakugo does not look like the kind of person who enjoys children running around his house.
still, the curiosity never goes away. it certainly is not because his fans fail to ask him. questions about his dating life appear in his streams regularly. sometimes they even appear dozens of times in a single hour.
dynamight, do you have a girlfriend?
are you single?
what’s your type?
would you ever date a fan? because i volunteer as tribute...
the answers never came. he either does not see the messages, or he definitely does and ignores them. everyone watching knows it is the latter.
katsuki notices everything happening in his chat. he just chooses what deserves his attention and response, and questions about his personal life never make that list.
over time his fans start to accept that they probably will never know. it becomes one of those things people shrug about; a mystery that will stay unsolved because someone like dynamight feels impossible to imagine in a normal relationship.
until one night everything changes.
the stream ended the same way most of dynamight’s streams ended.
loud.
the final match wrapped up with a decisive win, the scoreboard glowing across his monitor as the victory screen appeared. the chat flooded instantly with emotes, messages racing upward faster than anyone could properly read them.
katsuki leaned forward slightly in his chair, rolling his shoulders once as he cracked his knuckles and glanced at the camera. his expression carried that same familiar irritation his viewers knew well.
“alright, that’s enough for today.” his voice came through the mic clear and steady, still rough from the hours he had spent yelling. “and before any of you idiots start begging for one more match, the answer’s no.”
the chat immediately started doing exactly that.
one more game!!!
stay longer, please!
one more round, great explosion murder god dynamight!
“shut up.” katsuki snorted as he reached for his mouse and started closing the game window. “i’ve been streaming for six hours. go touch some grass or some shit, you bastards.”
a few laughing emotes filled the screen, already sued to his antics.
he leaned slightly closer to the mic again. “same time tomorrow if i feel like it.” another pause as he looked at the camera with mild annoyance. “try not to die before then. later.”
the stream should have ended right there… well, normally it would have.
katsuki used a streaming program that displayed a control panel beside his game window, allowing him to switch scenes, mute audio, or end the broadcast entirely with a single click. at the end of every stream he switched to a short closing screen that read “stream ending,” then pressed the button that shut everything down.
that night he clicked the scene change, the small preview box confirmed the stream had switched away from the gameplay. then he leaned back in his chair and grabbed his phone from the desk.
the actual “end stream” button remained untouched.
the broadcast kept running unbeknownst to him.
katsuki never noticed… and ironically, he notices everything.
he had already leaned back in his chair with a quiet exhale, his posture relaxing now that the match adrenaline had faded. the tension that always lingered in his shoulders during games eased slightly as he unlocked his phone. his fingers moved quickly across the screen while he typed out a message.
the expression on his face softened in a way his viewers rarely saw during streams. the sharp irritation melted into something calmer and more natural. his brows relaxed and his mouth rested in a neutral line while he read whatever reply appeared on the screen.
after sending another text, he dragged a hand through his messy hair, pushing the strands back from his eyes.
“tch,” he muttered softly to himself.
the stream watched everything and every viewer noticed almost immediately.
wait why is the stream still on?
did he forget to end it?
lmao mf definitely forgot
bakubro the stream is still running!!
hello??? dynamight you forgot something!?
definitely not complaining ;)
clip this now before he realizes !!!
the camera continued capturing him sitting there, completely unaware that thousands of viewers were still watching.
katsuki remained focused on his phone, scrolling briefly before typing another short response.
then a few minutes later the door behind him opened. the sudden movement happened clearly within view of the camera.
you stepped into the room quietly.
the hoodie you wore hung loosely over your frame, a familiar orange one that katsuki himself had been wearing during yesterday’s stream. it looked much larger on you than it did on him. the hem reached the middle of your thighs while the sleeves swallowed your hands completely, the fabric bunching slightly as your fingers curled inside them.
your hair looked soft and slightly messy, the kind of natural disarray that came from just waking up and not bothering to fix it yet.
katsuki noticed the movement and turned his head. the shift in his expression happened almost immediately.
the calm look on his face warmed.
once you neared him, he then reached out without hesitation and hooked a hand gently behind the back of your thigh, pulling you forward until you stood between his legs where he had spread them slightly while leaning back in the chair as he looked up at you from that position.
the chat completely lost what’s left of their minds.
YO! WHO IS THAT?!!
WAIT WAIT WAIT
IS THAT A GIRL?!!?Ahjwjhwuwgwhjw
HELLO????
the messages exploded upward so quickly the text blurred together.
katsuki didn’t see any of it. he was busy looking at you.
“you sleep alright?” his voice came out lower than usual, still carrying that rough edge but softened in a way that rarely appeared on stream.
“mhm.” you nodded slowly, rubbing one eye with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie.
your fingers slipped into his hair afterward, running lightly through the messy strands before your arms lowered again, sliding comfortably around his neck.
katsuki responded without hesitation, movement matching yours. one arm wrapped around your waist while the other lifted you easily off the floor, settling you sideways onto his lap as if it were the most natural movement in the world.
you leaned against him immediately, your head resting against the side of his neck. his hand found your thigh, thumb brushing slowly against the soft fabric of the hoodie.
“you wake up just now?” he asked.
“yeah.” your voice sounded quiet and a little sleepy. “you were loud.”
“i wasn’t that loud, brat.” katsuki huffed.
you laughed softly against his shoulder. “i heard you yelling at someone for five minutes.”
“they deserved it.”
“did they really?” you tilted your head slightly, humoring him.
“yeah.” he paused briefly before adding with mild annoyance, “dumbass ran straight into a sniper.”
“that’s mean, kats.” you giggled again.
“i was being honest. my old hag didn’t raise a liar.” his fingers slid lazily through your hair while you spoke, gently combing through the strands as you relaxed against him.
“did you eat yet?” you asked.
“no.”
“katsuki.”
“what?”
“you promised you’d eat.”
“yeah, yeah.” his hand squeezed your thigh lightly. “i’ll eat in a minute.”
“you said that yesterday.” you furrowed your eyebrows at him.
“and i ate eventually.” he bit back as he copied your facial expression.
“after midnight.”
“still ate, didn’t i?” katsuki said before having the nerve to smirk and wink at you knowing it was one of your many weaknesses about him.
you shook your head, smiling into his neck. “you’re painfully annoying.”
“you knew that five years ago yet here you are.”
“yeah, i’m still here.” you smiled shyly under his gaze.
the chat had reached absolute chaos by now.
SHE SAID HOW MANY YEARS?! FIVE YEARS?!!?
HIS GIRLFRIEND? FIANCÉE? HIS FUCKING WIFE?!
WHAT IS HAPPENING? GENUINELY.
you and katsuki remained blissfully unaware as his fingers tilted your chin upward after a moment. your weight settled deeper into his lap, the leather of his gaming chair creaking a soft protest. his arms, corded with muscle, tightened around your waist, anchoring you. the scent of him, caramel, and a faint undercurrent of sweat from a long gaming session, filled your senses.
“still here, huh?” his voice, usually a roar, was a low rumble against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. his breath feathered your skin.
you pressed yourself closer on him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “where else would i go, kats?”
a soft huff, almost a laugh, escaped him. his gaze, vermillion and intense, locked with yours. “smartass.” his thumb stroked the curve of your hip, a slow, deliberate movement that sparked a trail of heat. “you’re really something, you brat.”
your cheeks flushed as you swallowed, the sound loud in your ears. “is it a good something?”
his eyes narrowed, a hint of his usual challenge. “what do you think, huh? you think i’d let you sit here if it wasn't?” his grip on you shifted, one hand sliding up your back, fingers splaying wide across your shoulder blades. he pulled you closer still, eliminating the last sliver of space between you.
your breath hitched as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. “i… i don’t know,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper.
katsuki leaned in, his lips brushing your temple, sending a jolt through you. “liar.” his voice, rough and low, vibrated against your skin. “you know exactly what you do to me, baby.” his free hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. “you act all innocent, but i see the glint in your eyes when get your way. knowing damn well i’d do anything f’you.” the words of his were confessions, torn from him, almost a complaint.
your eyes fluttered shut, absorbing the admission. not even trying to deny it, you leaned into his touch, your body trembling slightly. “suki…”
“god… you fucking, brat.” he growled, but the sound held no malice, only a fierce hunger. his gaze dropped to your mouth, a possessive fire burning in their depths. “just shut up f’me.”
then his lips were on yours, a sudden, demanding press that stole your breath. it wasn't gentle, not at first. it was all him, dominant, intense, a blazing inferno. your fingers tangled in his spiky, soft hair, holding on as if to ground yourself. he devoured your mouth, a desperate, urgent claiming, just the way he always kisses you.
your shyness melted under the heat of his kiss, replaced by a budding boldness you hadn't known you possessed till you met him. you kissed him back, a soft, yielding response to his fiery assault, your own lips parting under the pressure.
he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your chest. The kiss deepened, becoming less a battle and more a desperate, intertwined dance. his tongue swirled with yours, tasting like mint and something uniquely him. his hand, still cupping your face, tilted your head, pulling you into a dizzying spiral. you felt your world narrow to the fierce press of his mouth, the demanding sweep of his tongue, the solid warmth of his body against yours.
then, another low groan vibrated from his chest, a deep “mmmph,” and his hand tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him. his kiss deepened, becoming possessive, a hungry claim. your own hands, trembling, found home on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt. “kats,” you breathed against his lips, a soft, whining sound.
“mine,” he growled, the word muffled by your mouth, his tongue sweeping demandingly. you leaned into him, melting into his embrace, a soft moan escaping you. he pulled back just enough to utter, “god, you drive me insane, baby,” then his lips were back, more insistent, pulling a soft gasp from you. “yeah, that's it. just like that,” he muttered against your mouth, his teeth lightly nipping your lower lip. “open for me.”
you whimpered softly, complying without conscious thought, your fingers digging into his shoulders. his tongue delved deeper, a raw, primal connection. “sweet,” he muttered against your lips, a sound of pure satisfaction. you felt his smile against your lips, a possessive, triumphant curve.
you shifted slightly on his lap, sitting up straighter while the kiss gets even more heated. katsuki leaned back into the chair lazily, allowing you to move against him while his hands settled comfortably on your waist. your fingers curled lightly into the collar of his shirt as you leaned to the side, pressing closer to him. when you opened your eyes briefly, your gaze remained on his face.
then something flickered at the edge of your vision.
movement.
fast movement.
your eyes shifted toward the monitor beside him and saw the chat was flying upward so quickly it looked like a blur of white text.
your heart stopped.
the stream window remained open, still live, and still recording everything.
a startled squeal escaped you before you could stop it. you immediately jumped off his lap and stumbled out of frame.
katsuki blinked in confusion.
one second you had been kissing him and the next you were gone.
“oi.” he turned in his chair. “what’s wrong?”
off camera, you pointed frantically toward the monitor. “katsuki bakugo!” you whispered urgently. “you’re still streaming!”
he followed the direction of your hand and his eyes landed on the screen where the chat moved like a storm. he stared at it for two full seconds then dragged a hand slowly down his face.
you had always stayed out of the room while he streamed. it had been routine for years. he would always text you when he finished, and only then did you come in to talk to him or drag him away from his computer for food, cuddles, or anything else. both of you valued privacy too much to risk the internet digging into your relationship.
katsuki especially. he never wanted to share you with the world.
for a brief moment when you first saw the stream still running, you wondered if he had finally decided to tell everyone about you. but the look on his face told you the truth, he thought the stream had ended and this entire situation was an accident.
katsuki sighed heavily before leaning back again then he held his arm out toward you. “come here.”
you hesitated for a brief moment watching as katsuki rolled his eyes. “they’ve been asking for years.” his voice carried mild annoyance, but his hand remained open toward you. “might as well tell them now that they’ve already seen you.”
you stepped forward slowly and took his hand before he pulled you back into his lap easily. you immediately buried your face into his neck again, shy now that you knew thousands of people were watching you and katsuki make out.
it was a good thing you saw that the stream was still live before anything else happened…
“alright listen up, you idiots.” katsuki leaned toward the mic, his voice rose back into the loud tone his viewers recognized instantly. “all of you extras got what you’ve been whining about for fucking years.” his hand rested comfortably on your thigh while he spoke.
“this is my girl.”
why you acting like the two of you didn’t almost have sex in front of the entire world rn?!
i watched that shit for free…
oh, dynamight can kiss like a mf
HOT. THAT SHIT WAS HOT. KATSUKI BAKUGO IS NOT BITCHLESS!!!!
“stop spamming like a bunch of ignorant idiots!” he spat as he glanced at the screen with irritation. then his tone shifted slightly as he patted your thigh. “hey. say hi.”
you could only lift your head slowly and looked at him.
katsuki nodded once. the reassurance in that simple motion settled your nerves. you knew exactly how protective he was.
anyone who says anything stupid will regret it.
you glanced at the camera then gave a small wave.
“hi.” your voice soft and small after the humiliation of being caught during an intimate moment. then you leaned back against katsuki again while he continued talking.
the viewers finally had a clear view of you and the reaction was immediate.
she’s gorgeous!!
WHAT THE FUCK?! HOLY FACE CARD!
SHE’S SO PRETTY!
miss thing is adorable wtf?!
how did he pull her?
katsuki’s eyes snapped to that last comment. “what the hell do you mean how did i pull her?!” he leaned toward the camera as his hand squeezed your waist confidently. “of course i pulled her. i always deserve the best.”
you laughed quietly against his shoulder.
honestly, you understood the viewers’ confusion. sometimes you wondered the same thing yourself.
you had always been quiet and reserved. the type of person who avoided loud and rude people whenever possible. then you met katsuki bakugo, and while most people saw the explosive attitude first. you saw something else hidden underneath it.
you saw the small moments when his guard dropped even for a split second. the way he listened carefully when you talked. the surprising patience he showed when teaching you how to play your first video game. the way he masks his concern and care with yelling. the way he always remembered little details about things you likes and how he acted like it’s nothing when you pointed it out. you the vulnerability he kept buried under layers of pride and temper.
you fell in love with that version of him and apparently the internet did too. because within minutes of that stream continuing, clips began spreading everywhere online.
dynamight trended again that night.
but this time the internet talked about you just as much as him.
the people loved you.
they loved you in the loud, chaotic, overwhelming way that online fandoms often did. clips of you appearing on katsuki’s stream spread across every platform within hours, and suddenly the mysterious girlfriend dynamight had managed to keep hidden for five years became the most talked about person in his community.
the next time katsuki went live, the change was immediate.
you sat in the living room that evening, scrolling through your phone while his stream ran in the other room. the familiar sound of his voice filled the house while he loaded into his first match of the night.
the chat did not even last ten seconds before the questions started.
where’s your girlfriend?
is your girl there? tell her hi!
bring mrs. dynamight back!
you could practically feel katsuki’s annoyance from a room away even before heard it. he glanced briefly toward the fast-moving chat before returning his focus to the game, his fingers tapping sharply across the keyboard.
“oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, already sounding irritated. his eyes stayed locked on the monitor while his character moved across the map.“can you motherfucking extras chill for five minutes?”
that did absolutely nothing to stop them.
where is she?! we demand the pretty girl!
girlfriend reveal again
i love you bro but we want your girlfriend.
the messages continued flooding upward.
katsuki slammed a key harder than necessary and leaned closer to his mic with visible frustration. “she’s not part of the damn stream,” he snapped, his voice cutting clearly through the audio.
tell her hi for us!
is she watching?!
greedy mf
katsuki scoffed loudly and shook his head. “mind your own business,” he said bluntly.
a few laughing emotes filled the chat immediately. one viewer typed that he was just gatekeeping you.
katsuki’s mouth twisted in mild irritation as he glanced toward the message.
“yeah,” he replied flatly, not even bothering to hide the fact. “i am.” his shoulders lifted in a dismissive shrug. “cry about it.”
still, the requests never stopped. almost every stream someone eventually asked about you. sometimes the questions appeared politely between other comments, and other times they arrived in waves that flooded the chat until the moderators had to slow it down.
most of the time katsuki handled it exactly the same way.
by yelling.
one night you were in the kitchen grabbing a glass of water when his voice suddenly echoed from the streaming room.
“stop asking about her!” he barked sharply, clearly losing his patience. “you people are obsessed with my girlfriend!”
you paused near the doorway, listening.
a message appeared in chat that said they just liked you.
katsuki let out an unimpressed scoff. “good for you,” he replied with obvious irritation. there was a short pause before he added in a firmer tone, “now shut up and watch the fucking game, loser!”
despite your relationship being public now, you still rarely entered the room while he streamed. that had been the routine for years now, the two of you just gotten used to it. you usually stayed somewhere else in the house doing your own thing while he worked. sometimes you sat on the couch scrolling through your phone, sometimes you read, sometimes you slept, and sometimes you watched television while waiting for him to finish.
but you always heard the moments when your name appeared. eventually you mentioned it to katsuki one evening when he stepped into the kitchen during a break between matches.
you leaned against the counter while he grabbed a drink from the fridge.
“i feel bad, kats. they just want to see me again,” you said softly, glancing toward the streaming room.
katsuki looked at you like you had just said something ridiculous. “don’t feel bad for them,” he replied immediately.
“why?” you blinked in confusion, tilting your head.
he leaned back against the counter with his drink in hand, his expression calm but clearly unimpressed. “because they’re fishing for attention,” he explained.
you frowned slightly. “not all of them.”
katsuki shook his head. “most of them,” he corrected. he took a sip from his drink before continuing. “the louder they ask, the more reaction they want.”
“but they seem nice.” you tilted your head thoughtfully.
katsuki snorted quietly at that. “that’s because they like you,” he said bluntly before his eyes narrowed a little. “which is already annoying.”
“you’re jealous.” you laughed softly.
“i’m not jealous,” he replied immediately. he paused for a second before correcting himself. “i’m irritated.”
“those are very similar emotions, baby,” you hummed thoughtfully.
“don’t start.” he pointed a finger at you.
despite all that, he did occasionally give in. not because his fans wanted it, because you did.
if you happened to wander into the room during a stream, katsuki never pushed you away. sometimes you simply sat beside him in another chair and watched him play quietly, your chin resting in your hand while you followed the fast movements on the screen.
other times you ended up on his lap, which was most of the time on his lap because “why have a chair when you have me to sit on?” those were his words.
the days were you were present were that most chaotic.
OMG SHE’S BACK!
MRS. DYNAMIGHT STREAM AGAIN!!
katsuki barely reacted to the messages. his arm simply wrapped around your waist while he continued playing as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
one night he even tried teaching you how to play.
you sat on his lap with your back pressed against his chest, the controller resting awkwardly in your hands while the game loaded. his chin rested lightly on top of your head as he leaned forward slightly to see the screen.
“alright,” he said quietly near your ear. “move the left stick.”
you nudged it carefully and your character walked straight into a wall.
you laughed. “this is harder than it looks,” you admitted.
katsuki sighed softly behind you. “you’re just overthinking it.” his hand moved over yours for a moment, adjusting your grip on the controller. “okay,” he continued patiently, “now turn.”
you tried again and your character spun in a slow circle.
“oops.” you giggled again.
“oi,” he muttered. his tone carried mild exasperation as he watched the screen. “focus.”
“i am focusing,” you insisted.
“then stop spinning like a damn beyblade,” he replied dryly.
you snorted quietly. “don’t rush me.”
“i’m not rushing you. you’re just barely doing anything,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “just move forward.”
you finally managed to guide your character through the hallway without crashing into anything.
your excitement was immediate. “look!” you said happily. “i did it.”
katsuki let out a quiet huff that sounded suspiciously proud. “yeah,” he said, his hand squeezed your waist lightly. “good job.”
the chat immediately exploded with reactions.
she’s doing better than you
LET HER PLAY MORE!
katsuki scoffed loudly at that. “chat, shut up!” he yelled.
later during the match you managed to land a decent hit on an enemy.
katsuki leaned forward instantly. “that’s it!” he said excitedly. “see? i told you you could do it.”
when the enemy finally dropped, the chat exploded again.
SHE GOT A KILL!!
she’s not bad
adorable wtf!?
katsuki leaned toward the screen with a smug grin. “yeah, that’s my girl!” he bragged proudly. then he added with obvious pride, “better than half of you extras already!”
another night you managed to convince him to play something entirely different.
you stood beside his desk while he prepared the stream.
“suki,” you said. “play dress to impress with me.”
he stared at you like you had suggested something absurd. “absolutely not,” he replied flatly.
“why?” you asked, pouting as you glared at him.
“because that game is fucking stupid,” he answered.
you crossed your arms before your frown turned into a small teasing smile. “you’re just scared.” you challenged him.
your boyfriend’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“scared of what, brat?!”
“that you’re not good at it.” you smiled sweetly.
the silence lasted exactly two seconds.
katsuki slowly turned toward his computer. “load it up,” he muttered.
that stream turned into complete and utter chaos.
the colorful fashion game filled the screen while katsuki stared at the clothing options with visible confusion, the timer clearly making him agitated than any other game in existence.
“why are there so many fucking shoes?! how many feet does she have!?” he asked irritably.
“because it’s fashion game! more options, kats, duh.” you giggled.
“this is ridiculous,” he muttered. “and don’t ‘duh’ me, brat.”
“just pick something already,” you encouraged.
a few minutes later the loyal viewers watched in disbelief as dynamight aggressively styled an avatar.
“that hat looks fucking stupid,” he grumbled.
“you chose it, baby,” you laughed.
“yeah and now i regret it!” he shot back.
when the judging round started you leaned closer to the screen.
“mine is better,” you teased.
“no it’s not,” he replied immediately.
“yes it totally is.”
“your outfit looks like a curtain in my grandmas house,” he said bluntly.
“rude!” you gasped dramatically.
“you see it too don’t you?”
meanwhile, everyone else is losing their minds over the two of you.
DYNAMIGHT PLAYING DRESS TO IMPRESS IS INSANE!
never thought i would live to see this day…
i’m sorry bakubro, she won this round.
katsuki pointed toward the monitor with a scowl. “no she didn’t!” he argued loudly.
“the votes say otherwise.” you chuckled, looking smugly at your sore loser of a boyfriend.
“the voters are blind as they are tasteless,” he grumbled under his breath. “good job, baby.”
the chat started spamming the word simp because of that.
SIMPPPP
katsuki leaned toward the chat with visible annoyance. “i’m not a simp!” he said firmly.
you waved cheerfully at the camera. “thank you guys!” you said sweetly.
then someone typed that you were better at games than him.
katsuki turned immediately. “watch your mouth,” he warned.
you laughed as you pat his arm. “they’re just teasing you.”
another viewer commented that you were carrying the stream which got you to lean toward screen before waving them of.
“that’s not true,” you said kindly.
katsuki snorted beside you. “damn right it’s not,” he said confidently. then he added proudly, “i’m still better than all of you.”
he never admitted it out loud, but katsuki liked that his fans liked you. seeing chat fill with positive messages about you made something warm settle quietly in his chest.
what he hated though was the other kind of attention.
because some viewers loved you a little too much.
sometimes the chat crossed a line.
especially the men.
one night while you sat beside him reading chat, a message popped up on screen.
hey, pretty lady, you can ditch bakugo and go out with me instead.
katsuki’s head snapped toward the monitor immediately. “what the hell did you just type, you motherfucking pig?!” he demanded.
another message appeared… most likely form the same person.
if you ever break up call me *** *** ***
katsuki leaned forward slowly, his expression darkening. “were you dropped on the head when you were a kid?” he asked harshly. “you probably look like you were drawn by a damn foot… probably smell like one too!”
then someone else wrote that you were way out of his league.
you covered your mouth trying not to laugh.
katsuki grinned sharply. “yeah?” he said, his arm wrapped around your waist firmly. “too bad she’s still mine.”
messages calling you pretty or cute or gorgeous appeared constantly whenever you joined the stream. those comments never bother him.
katsuki always reacted the same way.
she’s so beautiful! honestly, she’s probably the prettiest girl i have ever seen.
“damn right,” he would say confidently. “she is.”
jealous comments sometimes appeared too. those didn’t bother him either, in fact, they made his ego bigger. to have someone that people desired was something that made him feel good. it’s one of the many reason why he loves you, it’s because your were the best of the best.
lucky bastard
damn, never been more jealous of bakugo. i wish that was me
those comments only made him more smug.
“jealous?” he asked once with a grin. “get used to it.”
but when someone acted like he wasn’t even there or when anyone disrespected you, the mood changed instantly.
one comment once appeared in chat.
gosh, stop glazing her so hard. she’s not all that. they get outed and all of a sudden she’s always joining the stream. it was better when she wasn’t there. fucking clout chaser.
katsuki’s jaw tightened immediately, his vermillion eyes darker than usual as he read the comment, if they think he was rude and aggressive before… then they would think he is absolutely deranged the second someone says bad about you.
He leaned slightly closer to the monitor, his eyes narrowing as he reread the message. the room went quiet except for the faint audio of the game still running in the background.
you were sitting beside him, scrolling through your phone, unaware of what had just popped up.
katsuki’s jaw tightened. “i’ll say this once and only once, so you better listen,” he said slowly. “the second i see another negative comment about my girlfriend in this chat, i’m not just banning you, i’m nuking your account so hard you won’t even remember what this stream looks like, motherfucker.”
“i don’t give a single damn if you don’t like me. talk all the shit you want about me. but you run your mouth about her again and i’ll personally make sure you never type in this chat again.”
no one dare say anything bad about you after that, that’s for sure. the one and only dynamight made sure of it.
but that didn’t stop the people who wanted you.
you should dump him and date me instead.
“listen here,” he said in a low voice. “if you think she’s leaving me for some random idiot in my chat, you’re even dumber than you sound!”
another message appeared seconds later.
i’d treat her better than you
katsuki barked out a sharp laugh. “no you wouldn’t, you lowlife!” he replied bluntly, his hand squeezed your thigh lightly. “because you wouldn’t even get the chance.” his voice turned rough with irritation. “next person who asks my girl out in my own stream is getting banned.”
you patted his arm gently. “katsuki,” you said softly.
“huh?! what?” he replied.
“be nice.”
“no.” he glanced at you briefly.
you giggled quietly and the chat laughed with you cause he definitely calmed down after that.
and despite all the yelling and insults and aggressive bragging, one thing had become obvious to everyone watching.
katsuki bakugo loved you.
and absolutely no one was taking you away from him.
༘⋆ 🏷 comment, dm me, or send me an ask to be added to my permanent taglist!
♡ AN: initially wrote this for 30.Kinktober BREEDING KINK, but strayed from the prompt quite a bit
♡ TW: noncon/dubcon, abortion, toxic ex-boyfriend, yandere, bullying, stalking, feelings of guilt, running away/found again
♡ FEM reader
Your name fires off his tongue like a warning shot out of the clear.
You stand stock-still as it rings through the air, a sharp chill succeeding it, before you, wide-eyed and ashen, look up to find that unwanted stare glaring back at you.
It had been a day like any other. You’d been on your way home from work, maneuvering through the turbulent streets in favor of stuffing yourself inside the overcrowded subway. You had leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and the remnants of a bottle of red you’d very much been looking forward to all day long.
You hadn’t been paying attention, eyes on your phone, opening your notes to see if there was anything on your shopping list that required you to drop by the supermarket first—hoping there wasn’t, with fingers crossed—when, out of nowhere, you’d bumped right into someone.
It was a day like any other. But opening your eyes, a feeling sank heavy in your belly at what you saw, a feeling you’d nearly forgotten, whispering at you in hushed and urgent whispers as though scared to be heard.
Run.
Shell-shock has you by the throat, making you swallow thickly beneath a flared breath, trying to keep cool, the same way you would when encountering any other wild animal—no sudden movements—talking to him just so, like a beast who could and very likely would kill you if you weren’t very, very, very careful.
“Hi…”
His lips move, talking to you, but you’re unable to catch any of it over the sound of your own blaring heartbeat. Ears ringing, rushing with blood, feeling faint, looking at the ghost-of-suppressed-past as if he’d come only to remind you of what you can’t forget.
“Grab coffee with me?” he asks eagerly, eyes bright, beaming, loud, looking as surprised as you felt, though without the fear, to have bumped into you like this—like a scene straight out of a movie.
It’s all odd and nothing short of terrifying. But even odder and more horrifying still, there’s a smile on his face—giddy looking, of all things.
It was a good imitation of normalcy. You’re sure, from an outsider's perspective, it couldn’t have looked any different from two estranged sweethearts stumbling into each other, a much-awaited long time, no see. And yet, despite the effort, none of it relieved the feeling of being robbed at gunpoint.
“Uh—I was just, uhm…” You struggle to find the words. Your throat is like a dry well, heaving up empty buckets, delayed in answering the first question, “Heading home.”
Eerily sharp, inspecting you like a security screener, his eyes don’t dither, and neither does his voice—pressing on, just as keenly as before, insisting, “My treat? For old times' sake?”
You can’t help but regard it the same way you would the gun being cocked. “Uhm…” Praying to whomever might take pity enough to listen to you, while you empty your purse for all the measly value that it’s worth.
“Okay.”
You’re led away by a grip on your wrist. It’s not too tight—nothing you wouldn’t be able to rip yourself free from if you tried—but for some reason, it still feels impossible. It’s the same when he ushers you down on a seat by a tiny two-seater table inside a cute sundae cafe while he goes to stand in line to order. Despite the many inner voices, some whispering and others screaming, telling you to go now that he’s got his back turned, you remain right there, statuesque, trying to remember how you’d usually make your feet move, but coming up empty-handed with a feeling of utter foolishness that all but jeers at you, telling you that you only have yourself to blame.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I just bought the most expensive thing,” he returns with two flamboyant, syrupy mocha coffees topped with whipped cream and marshmallows, sitting down opposite you.
“That wasn’t a brag—I’m just—I don’t know what to say…”
He seems nervous, too. Or no, not nervous, but excited, sitting strangely straight-backed on the tiny wooden café chair, both his hands wrapped around the acrylic of his cup, fingers locked, glistening wet with dewdrops dripping down its sides—it’s impossible to tell if any of it’s genuine or not.
You don’t touch your own. Actually, you don’t do anything. You just end up sitting there. Waiting, wondering, in anxiety, still rattled by the shock, partly in disbelief, thinking—hoping—you only fell asleep in your cubicle back at the office and are having the strangest nightmare you’ve had in a while.
“You’re nowhere to be found,” he suddenly states after your silence, making you snap out of your ponder, blinking at him, still startled to see him sitting there, in the flesh.
You can only muster up a “What?”
It makes him laugh—an awkward, slightly impatient type of laugh. “I mean.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks off to the side as if sheepish about something, explaining, “I couldn't find you anywhere on social media.”
Your face blanches anew.
He’s been looking for you? The thought makes your gut twist even tighter. You knew he would, but still? Has he been looking for you all this time? Did you really just stumble into him at random, or was all of this some twisted act? Why? What does he want?
Why can’t he just leave you alone?
You grab your drink, if only to let the taste of sugar distract you. Answering curtly, “Oh, yeah, I don’t use my real name anymore. So many scammers and stuff, you know...” You take a sip, aggressive enough to give you brainfreeze—thinking anything’s better than this burn that’s all but consumed you from head to toe.
He lifts his drink up to his mouth as well. “Smart girl. Glad to see you finally protecting yourself.”
You both drink for another long pause.
He drums a beat on the table while looking up at the ceiling, then out the window, in some way looking like he’s thinking up things to say, and in another way looking like he’s holding himself back from saying what he really wants.
He looks older—you notice against your will—bigger. Not surprising, given the years that have passed since you last saw each other, but still, you’d have thought he’d never grow out of that ever-present and ever-cocky smile of his. Right now, he seems, somehow, somewhat normal, sitting there—dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. You don’t know why it strikes you as odd. It isn’t, really. You’re sure he wore the same things back then, but still, it seems off for some reason.
You suppose, what’s weird about it is that it makes him look like any other average person you would bump into on the street, even when he’s the farthest thing from it.
It just doesn’t make much sense—none of it.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asks suddenly, once again popping the awkward silence like an overinflated balloon at a little girl’s birthday party.
You keep waiting for a high-pitched cry to break out.
It’s those types of questions—trivial nothings anyone would ask anyone. Anyone but him. In his mouth, it’s a script, like an actor treating the world as his stage. He does it well, though—fitting in—he always has. But you know better this time than to believe it, having experienced it first-hand, how it only runs skin deep.
“Good,” is all you offer. Forgetting to return the question.
He doesn’t seem to mind. Unbothered, continuing on with his dialogue as if on cue, “Must have been hard moving away. Dropping everything like that. So suddenly.”
It’s more probing than his previous ask, more personal—but you’d say it alludes to more about him. Something about his tone, something accusational, something not quite polished enough to suit that fluffy exterior, making way for a bit of the real him to peek through, enough to make a fresh chill run down your spine.
You don’t have an immediate answer. Too caught up in the feeling of imminent threat—at the edge of your seat waiting for him to lose patience, as if he’d lunge at you from across the table, uncaring of the people around—even though, logically, you know he’d never do anything in public. Your thoughts from earlier return. Why is he doing this? What does he want? Why? All these years later, why can’t he let you go?
There’s another airy laugh before he flashes you a big grin. “I have to admit,” he says, chuckling. “It kind of felt like you were running away from me.”
He says it as a joke, but you know it isn’t. It’s got clear intentions—he wants to make you squirm, to make you beg, to apologize, to cry, and do all those things you used to do when he got upset.
A part of you still wants to, feeling like it’s the safest option. You almost indulge it, but instead you steel yourself. After all, you ran away from him for a reason.
And all these years later, you’re not about to go running back.
“I just needed to get away, is all,” you excuse. “I’d been so cooped up, I barely knew who I was or what I wanted out of life.”
It’s not really a lie. Then again, it’s also far from the full truth of it. And by the looks of him, you both know it. The way he eyes you calmly—hunting and hauntingly. That fluffy exterior, like sheep-skin on a wolf, peeling away, too rotted to hold itself together.
“Hmph.” Tilting his head, he eyes you condescendingly. “Yeah, you always were a bit of an airhead, weren’t you? Always following me around like you didn’t know where to go without me,” he grins, speaking as though it’s all fond memories. “Not that it ever bothered me, of course. Actually, I kind of miss it. Don’t you?”
You nearly flinch, almost making your drink fall and crash onto the ground, wishing you’d just left when you had the chance. If only you’d been able to shake the shock out of your body enough to allow your feet to move.
“It's a long time ago,” you say, voice thin, looking into the foam halfway down your fountain glass as you take another sip. Wherever the conversation is headed is not somewhere you want to go—especially with him leading the way.
“What does that mean? You don’t remember?” he snickers, knowing you do.
“We used to have so much fun…” His voice slips into a lower murmur, spilling your shared secrets over the table-top. “You’d sneak me in through your bedroom window at night. I’d have to climb your rose-wall like you were Rapunzel. Tch—you were so cute, shushing me, thinking your parents were gonna wake up.”
You stay silent as he laughs.
“Yeah, always such a goody-two-shoes. Remember how much you choked on your first drink? Granted, I’d maybe overshot the vodka on purpose. Your first smoke was just as bad, but shit—your first hit of the good stuff was the worst. You couldn’t stop coughing, and after your fourth hit, you weren’t even able to move. But I took good care of you, didn’t I? Getting you into your PJs and tucking you in tight. You remember?”
He doesn’t really give you any time to answer or stop him.
“I almost got you to take your first tattoo as well if you hadn’t been such a scaredy-cat. Tch—but no worries, I took a lot of your other firsts to make up for it.” Humming, his eyes go lazy—pictures of it all playing out behind them. “You really let me get away with everything… Like a Barbie doll—you’d let me dress you up the way I liked, and undress you wherever and whenever I wanted.”
He takes a moment to admire your face, all flushed and pouty, avoiding looking back at him, before he grins with another sly scoff. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
You think you might get sick if you stay any longer, and still, nothing—not even the feeling of that all-too-familiar collar being clasped around your neck—is enough to convince your body to get up and leave while he continues to tighten the leash.
“You’re right,” he admits when you don’t say anything. “It is a long time ago. It’s just… looking at you makes it feel like yesterday.”
You could say the same. Although you can’t say those would be the memories you’d choose. Or, at least, you wouldn’t have phrased them like that. Rather, you remember the time his hand left a bruise around your throat so deep you had to wear a scarf for two months waiting for it to disappear, and the way he’d lick and suck on it every time you were alone—telling you he was kissing it better when he was actually just making it worse. Or the time he didn’t allow you to wear a sweater to a party, forcing you to choose between leaving it in the car or walking home by yourself all the way to the other side of town, and the way he’d shown you and your bra off to everyone inside when you’d conceded—later praising you with sweet nothings and heated kisses in an off-limits bedroom even when you were begging him to take you home. Or that time he’d knocked your father’s teeth out in the driveway for having warned him to stay away from you. Or how, when you’d told him you had decided you were getting the abortion, he’d called you a baby-killing bitch, and said he’d never look or speak to you again if you went through with it.
You’d made sure he stood by those words. You’d made a decision and packed your bags, leaving your childhood home behind you with goodbye kisses to your parents, promising them you’d keep in touch despite moving as far away as your savings would allow. You took the first job you could get and worked your way up with only a high school degree to back you up.
You’d erased all traces of yourself—practically faking your own death.
And you hadn’t seen him since.
“Give me your contacts?” he asks, pulling his phone from his pocket, spinning it around, and sliding it across the short distance of the table separating you.
“Your phonenumber,” he clarifies. “It would be nice for us to catch up. It’s been so many years, I was beginning to fear we might never get the chance.”
You can’t really say that you agree. But the sight of his phone already in front of you, waiting for you to indulge him, somehow and someway, you still don’t have the guts to say no to him, even when typing up the numbers feels no different from signing a deal with the devil.
Finally—and thankfully—he releases you a short while after that.
He’d offered to walk you home, but you made up an excuse on the fly about going to see a friend—not sure if you were convincing or not.
Paranoid, you still get on the subway to another part of town, now a little happy about the crowd, before hailing a cab to take you back.
The stairs up to your apartment feel like an eternity, even as you rush up the flights. Your hands, cold and slightly trembling, struggle to put your key in the lock. And when you finally step inside, you instantly collapse against the door, breath knocked out of you, shaking from head to toe.
A phantom in your stomach makes the tears rush down your cheeks like acid rain, corroding the skin in its wake. It’s every emotion at once—shame, guilt, anger, terror.
You’re overreacting, you’re aware. But it doesn’t help. Thoughts racing, telling you you’ll have to move again, even farther away this time, maybe even out of the country, to someplace faraway he’ll never find you. But how did he find you? If he found you once, he’ll do it again. Meaning you’re not safe. There’s nowhere you can go. It’s only a matter of time before he hunts you down again, and again, and again, and again.
You clamber across the faux wood, running to the kitchen cabinet to pull out that bottle of wine along with a glass, topping yourself off to the very brim. A few drops spill over onto the floor in the rush.
A pling comes from the floor while you drink, making your eyes snap to view it—whole body on edge and convinced it was something deadly, only to see your phone where you’d left it on its back, screen lit.
You stare at it, regarding it with apprehension. Then, despite not wanting to move, your feet take you with them anyway, slowly walking over until you’re standing right above it, spotting an unknown number at the top, followed by an unwanted text.
it was good seeing you
made me realize how much I really miss you
maybe I can see your place this weekend. wanna know what you’ve been up to…
anyway tell your friend hi, and call me when you get home. let’s plan another…
There’s more to the messages, but you can’t see it without opening the chain. You only stare at it as it is. Reading it over and over. Unsure what you’re looking for outside of wanting it to go away until the screen goes back to black, snapping you out of it.
You end up leaving it there—choosing to walk yourself over to the couch instead. But you don’t really know what to make of yourself once you’re there, either—whether you want a sitcom as company or if you prefer the silence.
The silence gives room to more thoughts, and too many of them are bad, so you put on the first recommended thing.
More plinging from the floor disturbs your binging. Still, a full five twenty-minute episodes pass before the singular plings are exchanged with ringing.
You let it ring until it stops. Ignoring it without pausing the show in front of you. You just keep drinking your wine, staring at the screen without catching any of the contents, as more plinging and ringing chimes from the floor.
You close your eyes, and a couple of stray tears slip free from your waterline. You don’t even dare move. Sitting there, stiff and scared and helpless, like you’re back in time and still just a hopeless girl stuck beneath his thumb.
Funny enough, it’s when the noises stop for a full episode that you finally get your legs to move, slipping out of the blanket you’d wrapped yourself in, toes numb against the cold floors as you walk back over to your phone. You don’t know why—you still don’t want to look, but an indescribable urge all but forces you to open the chain, eyes peeled as you scroll through a mile of messages, each one worse than the one before…
it was good seeing you
made me realize how much I really miss you
maybe I can see your place this weekend. wanna know what you’ve been up to all these years without me
anyway tell your friend hi, and call me when you get home. let’s plan another date
don’t mean to blow up your phone, but your accounts are private, you need to accept my friend request
I know you’re with a friend, but it only takes a minute to reply
you should get better at checking your phone. what if it was something important?
pick up the phone, I need to talk to you
I’m not angry, I just really want to hear your voice
answer me
why are you being like this? we had a nice date and now you’re just going to ignore me?
you haven’t changed at all you know that? you’re still that same flighty fucking bitch you always were
answer the fucking phone right now
I swear if you keep ignoring me I’m gonna come over and make you regret it
Breath shallow and weak on your upper lip, you stare in deafening silence as another message is typed up. Three dots jumping, slowly compared to the rapid beat of your heart.
last chance
You almost toss the phone away when it rings, but manage to maintain your grip, breath coming out heavy—so heavy that the screen catches dew on every outtake. Finger hovering over the green button, somewhat itching to slide it, but remaining placid until the ringing eventually dies out, reverting back to the text chain.
You click the number at the top, slowly tapping Info, then the two red words at the bottom, blocking him. Then, you go back to the cartoon still playing on the TV and re-drape yourself with your still-warm blanket, hugging yourself tightly. Eyes sliding to peek at your phone now and again, relieved to see it simply lying on the coffee table, calm as usual.
You spend the weekend inside, ordering take-out. Using your computer to check out if you’ve left anything to be found online that could help him find your address if he somehow managed to check out your socials despite you blocking all his advances. You don’t think so, but still, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s somehow able to track you. It’s all silly, but even so, you end up deleting your accounts across every platform just in case, not even leaving your phone number in the end, thinking you’ll get a new one as soon as you can.
You consider staying home sick on Monday, but you wind up going anyway after double-checking that the office website and Facebook page hadn’t publicized your name or picture anywhere.
Still, you’re a nervous wreck all day, hardly getting any work done, even when you skipped lunch to sit in your cubicle. You keep wracking your brain with the same question—how’d he even find you in the first place? Was it really just some fucked up coincidence? Is that even possible? For him to just suddenly show up out of the blue, multiple cities away from the last place you saw him so many years ago? Had you maybe mentioned you wanted to move here? You’re certain you didn’t, you’re certain this place wasn’t even on your radar before you made the decision. Did your parents tell him? No, they wouldn’t, right? Maybe not on purpose. Using the work computer, you check out their profiles. But, just as you’d requested, there isn’t a single post about you or the few times they’ve flown out to visit you. Actually, scrolling through, it’s squeaky clean from top to bottom, so much so that it’s as if they didn’t have a daughter at all.
It doesn’t make any sense. How the fuck did he find you?
Well… it wasn’t easy…
The contractor he paid was one out of a dozen others before him. He suspects the first eleven were amateurs who only did a deep dive through the web, as if he couldn’t do that on his own. But this last guy, he was legit. A lot more expensive, too, but after years of trying to find you, he wouldn’t complain, especially when the guy somehow managed to track you down in less than two days' time.
He could barely believe it once he pinged him in the middle of the day with a picture of you—candid, you looked to be on your way somewhere, probably home with the somewhat tired look on your face, dressed in drab work clothes he’d never picture you in, older now and still, you were as beautiful as the day he lost you.
And, after so many years, he’s not about to let you slip away again. No matter how stubborn you are.
He watches you climb the stairs outside your building, tired in your step. You’d stayed late at the office, made him wait all day until dark, but somehow it was fitting. Romantic, in one way, and deserved in another—hunting you while you’re all alone at night. This way, he could make you pay a little, freak you out, scare you—get you to really regret it.
“Hey.”
You whip around like a bunny who’d heard a twig snap—eyes round, hand down your purse, stopped in the middle of fishing for the keys.
“What—what are you doing here?”
You sound worse than you did at the cafe. Just like his own, you’ve let the mask slip. Might as well, given there’s no one else but the two of you around.
“Why’d you block me?” He ignores your question in favor of posing his own. It’s a stupid thing for you to ask, anyway, given how obvious it is.
“What?” you continue to act stupid, still with your hand in your purse, trying to be smooth while you carefully feel around for your keys as though he can’t see exactly what you’re doing.
“You blocked me,” he clarifies, standing at the bottom of the short ten-step staircase, looking up at you. “Why?”
He can spot you swallowing thickly, in fact, he thinks he can even hear it, followed by your cheap excuses, all spluttered out like nervous word-vomit, still trying to keep up the charade in fear of the reality staring you in the face, “Oh–well, you know, I'm sorry–I sorta just keep touch with close friends so—”
“No boyfriends then,” he states—this time, fully like an accusation.
Your shoulders hike, and goosebumps break out across your arms. Still, you try to stay strong. “You’re not-”
“Careful.”
A heavy silence ensues at that.
The wind blows softly through the empty street. Everyone’s either eating a late dinner or already in bed with a movie. Meanwhile, you’re here, on the steps, looking down at him, waiting for a sudden air-strike or alien invasion—anything to make it break the deafening quiet.
When nothing happens, you find no other option but to break it yourself. Mustering up the courage, you finally break the act, asking him what’s been on your mind all along, “What do you want?”
A grin breaks out across his face then. Stating the obvious, “I want you to invite me in.”
Your hand whitens with the death grip you're giving your bag, stiffening up like a cadet trying to put some bite into her bark. “And if I say no?”
The smile curls, becoming something vile. “I’ll invite myself.”
You whip around, keys in a panicked hand, stupidly jabbing at the lock with no tact to make it work.
“Don’t.” He’s behind you before the first tear drops, and you let out a choked whimper, feeling his presence at your back like something from a horror movie. “Don’t make me angry.” He cyphons the chills out of you, voice tepid and smooth right at your ear, speaking to you like a lover. “You don’t want that. I don’t either… Just invite me in.”
You sniffle, biting back a cry, shaking against his chest as he wraps both arms around you.
Feeling possessed, you fiddle with the keys against the lock again, hand shaking so much that you drop them on the floor. Startled, you rush down to pick them up, promptly and still as clumsily trying for the lock.
Arms around you, his cold hand grasps yours, steadying it as he helps you slide the key in place, turning your hand in his, twisting it until the lock comes undone. He puts his paw on the knob and pushes down, letting the door swing in.
Another paw on your waist guides you inside with a steady nudge.
You black out as you climb the stairs one step at a time, feeling the rhythmic repetition lull you into catatonia. This time, when you reach the door, he confiscates the keys from your hand, and you let him, only silently watching as he effortlessly puts them in your lock.
“You know… I’ve been trying to find you for a while,” he mumbles against your neck, nosing your jawline, lips on the underbelly of your chin. “A really long while.”
You jolt as the door slams to a close behind you, feeling faint—as though he’s about to bite your throat out now that he finally has you alone. And yet, despite your body being immobile in light of the impending death threat, all he does is hold you, murmuring more words against your ear.
“It makes me feel like—I don’t know... maybe you were hiding from me.” You hold your breath, feeling stormed by his voice, twisting about in your head, leaving little room for anything else. “Do you really hate me that much?”
Overwhelmed, in some last-ditch effort, you try pushing him away while shaking your head, needing to get away, needing space to breathe, to think, to stop this urge of playing dead like you’re some helpless animal stuck on a hunter’s jaws.
But he only clicks his tongue at the attempt. Letting you go with a harsh push that has you drop to the floor. He follows quickly, on top of you, with a fierce grip around your throat.
“I told you already, don’t do that,” he repeats—tone tighter now, vexed. “I don’t want to be rough with you, but I will if you make this difficult.”
“Please–” you squeak, both hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to pull him off without succeeding.
He only tightens the hold as he leans down, teeth gritting, “Please, what? What do you think I’m gonna do that’s so goddamn bad? I’m genuinely curious, please what?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling spit fly from his gnashing, barking the words at you with his face only a short foot away.
“You afraid to say it or something?” he laughs, something just shy of unhinged. “Is he gonna kill me or fuck me—that’ what you’re thinking?”
There’s a silence. You keep your eyes closed while it prolongs—not sure what you’re waiting for—the latter or the former.
“I should kill you,” he says then. “Fucking off the way you did—my kid in your belly and all. What the fuck did you do, huh?”
You croak with another cry, stabbed with that same feeling from before, strangling your guts into unbearable knots.
“Yeah, thought so.”
You don’t even notice his hand when it lets go of your throat and joins the other in cradling your face—tenderly, but cagingly, holding you steady as you choke on your own onslaught of tears.
“How about I let you pick, hm?” he says, voice suddenly soft again, as if there’s kindness in giving you a choice, like he’s asking if you’d like chocolate or ice cream. “Which one do you want? Either I kill you—” His thumbs rub your cheeks while his forehead dips against yours. “Or we make a new one.”
The proposal doesn’t ease your sobbing, only further spurs it on as the ache inside gets twisted anew.
And still, he presses on, “Answer me, which is it?”
You shake your head, a sniveling mess, struggling to breathe, drowning under the pressure.
“Wow…” he grumbles coldly. “You’d really rather die?”
Letting go of your face, he straightens himself, looking down his nose at you like you’re this pathetic thing before abruptly scoffing, “Tch, it's not like it’s anything new. I mean, let’s be real, how many times have we done it, huh?” There’s a new sharpness to his tone as he continues, seething at you as he lays both hands down flat on either side of your head, catching your hair beneath his fingers. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve met a bigger slut than you, always begging to get fucked. That was always your answer to everything. Whenever you made a mistake, you’d make it up to me with sex, whenever I was upset, you’d calm me down with sex, whenever I wanted to talk to you about us, about our future, about wanting to make you my wife, my world, my fucking everything, you’d always shut me up with sex.”
He’s panting by the end of it—both in the same state, heaving for air through the thick of it. The touch of something hot dripping on your face makes you finally open your bleary eyes, blurry vision slowly focusing on the sight of his own reddened ones staring back down at you.
“Did you ever even love me? Hm? Even just a little?” his voice cracks as he asks it. Impatiently demanding your answer this time with tightness in his throat, “Come on, answer me.”
Still, you remain silent in shock as you try to make sense of the expression on his face and how it, despite everything, still has this godawful ability to make you want to reach out and give him every part of yourself in the hope it’ll be enough to make him happy.
“Answer me!”
This time, as he bangs his fist down next to your head, the answer all but springs out of you like convicts in a prison break, “Yes! Yes, I loved you—I love you… I–” It all pours out of you like it’s something you’ve been holding back since the day you left—feeling like a deathbed confession, this white-hot guilty burden you’d been denying, trying desperately to convince yourself wasn’t true.
“You lying to me?” he pushes, as needy as it is threatening, with lips down by the corner of yours and hand back to caressing your throat.
“No–no, I’m not lying–” you promise, putting your own hands by his pulse and cheek, looking at him as all those old feelings retake their rightful spot inside you, festering like a sickness you never fully got rid of. “I love you, I really–”
He kisses you then, and you, feeling desperate for any type of comfort, accept it with greed.
“Yeah?” he asks against your wet lips, gruffly, tasting you with rightful abandon, like he’s only retaking something that’s always belonged to him.
And you indulge him, beyond tired of fighting, you accept the crude peace of surrender all too easily. “Yes–”
He smiles against your kisses, grinning widely with a low snicker, pulling your lips between his teeth before letting go. Brow to brow, nose to nose, he takes your puffy eyes in with his.
This was originally supposed to be a cute, short, fluffy one shot of Izuku falling in love with a girl that jogs in his neighborhood, but it is now a 4.3k piece that is angst to fluff- you're welcome.
Synopsis: Izuku notices a new girl jogging in his neighborhood, wanting to get to know her better, he decides to jog at the same time she does one day, but he learns that she is a lot more than just a new resident who has a hobby for running.
Content Warning: Mentions of Domestic Violence and Abuse, along with descriptions of said actions
Izuku made it a point to know everyone in the neighborhood. Not only to be aware of the people he lived around, but also to let them know that he was there if they needed anything. Not as Deku, but as Izuku Midoriya- their neighbor. He is normally very aware when someone moves in, as he often patrols the neighborhood and notices when moving trucks are parked and boxes are being broken down outside.
So it threw him off when he saw you, a woman he had never seen before, jogging past his house, headphones on, completely oblivious to the world around you. He was on his way to work when he saw you, already dressed in your professional attire, and you looked like you were in the zone. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he made a mental note to try to figure out where you lived. It was a small neighborhood; it shouldn’t be hard. He would have definitely remembered meeting you, so he wondered when you moved in that he didn’t notice.
Over the next few days, he would see you run by in the morning before he went to work, and that evening, he would ask some of his immediate neighbors if they had ever seen you or talked to you before. The answer was the same: no one has talked to you or seen you move in. As he got ready for bed that Friday night, an idea popped into his head, one that would at least get him in your vicinity to talk to you.
The next morning, at the same time every morning, you jogged by, headphones in like you always do, except this time, Izuku was in his workout clothes, ‘stretching’, and started to jog at a comfortable pace behind you when you passed by. Not too close to make you uncomfortable, but he was close enough for you to notice he was there.
For you, you never noticed him before; then again, you didn’t really talk to anyone in the neighborhood. Keeping to yourself and your head down, you wanted to stay off the radar as much as possible. He was very attractive and definitely in shape. You definitely saw that green hair before, but you can’t place where. He follows behind you for a while until you reach the point when you turn around to head back to your house. When he follows you at the turning point, you slow up your pace, which causes him to slow up his pace. You finally turn, breathing slightly heavy from the exercise. You move your headphones off your head. Izuku stops, not even phased by the jogging he has been doing.
“Can I help you?” You ask him, defensive and on guard. Rightfully so, right now, he looks like a creeper following behind you, jogging. He gives you a small smile.
“I’m sorry, this was probably not the best way to introduce myself to you. My name is Izuku Midoriya. I just wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to the neighborhood.” You knew that name. He was a top hero; recognition must have flashed in your eyes because he let out a little breathless laugh. “Yes, I’m also pro-hero Deku, but here I like to just go by Midoriya.”
Knowing that he was a hero put you a little more at ease. You smile at him, now that you know he isn’t following you to kidnap you and murder you, and introduce yourself to him, holding out your hand. He takes it, his smile growing wider.
“So, how long have you lived in the neighborhood? I have never seen you around before until recently.”
“About six months.” His eyes widen in surprise. You have lived here for half a year, and he never even noticed. You place your hands on your hips, still steadying out your breathing.
“I've kind of been staying under the radar for a little while. I haven’t started running again until this past week.” That makes sense why he has just started to notice you every day. Izuku kicks some pebbles at his feet.
“So, which street do you live on then?” He asks, and you let out a giggle.
“That’s a little personal, don’t you think, Midoriya? You have already stalked my run, now you want to stalk my house?” You have a teasing glint in your eye, but his face goes red regardless as he stumbles through an apology of seeming like a creeper.
“I just like to know who lives around me, and I want everyone to know I am here if they need help.” He finally stammers at the end. You nod your head and thank him. When you go to turn again, he stops you.
“Wait! The neighborhood has a little holiday party that we throw every year, it’s at the clubhouse- it’s next weekend. You should come.” You bite your lip, wariness and resignation in your eyes. He doesn’t respond to it, just gives the same friendly smile he has been giving the entire time. “No pressure! Just think about it. Is it okay if I run with you back to my house?”
With the subject change, your eyes relax again. You nod your head. “Sure, that’s fine.” You put your headphones back on, and the two of you jog side by side. Not talking anymore. Izuku watches when you get back into your zone from the corner of his eye. Your face relaxes, almost a carefree look, your breathing pattern changes to keep enough oxygen in your lungs to keep pushing yourself, and your pace no longer changes; you have found your rhythm.
When the two of you approach his house, he gives you a little wave, which you return, and he jogs up his driveway, stopping to watch you run a little more down the street until you take a right. He wonders if that is the street you live on or if it’s just a part of your path. He thinks about the look you gave when he mentioned being around other people, being introduced to other people. The way you locked up and were hesitant- he has seen that look before. It’s from the same victims where something happened to them, when they trusted too much, and they got hurt in the end. It causes his hero instincts to tingle that there is a lot more to the running girl who caught his attention.
Throughout the next week, on your jog, you can’t help but notice Midoriya’s house every time you pass it. He is always in his car, leaving for work, but now he smiles at you and waves. You always wave back, always with a friendly smile, and you continue. That Saturday, Izuku is back in his workout gear again, stretching as you approach. You slow your jog and smile at him, a teasing look on your face.
“Going to stalk my run again?” You ask him. He smiles at you and chuckles.
“I was hoping to join you this time.” You nod your head and actually put your headphones away. When you start back, the two of you don’t say anything for a moment, just letting your feet hit the pavement be the only sound until he asks you the question you have been dreading.
“Have you thought about the holiday party tonight?” You exhale and then, between breaths, respond.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m sorry, Midoriya.” He has an internal battle on whether he wants to push more or let it go, but decides on a different tactic.
“Why did you move here?” He asks. He sees his hero training coming in handy, the quick freeze of your arms and the panic dance across your eyes, before you smooth it out.
“I just needed a fresh start.” You say, leaving no room for any more questions. He doesn’t push, but now he is intrigued. When he gets back home, he will wave bye to you with a smile. He showers and changes, then grabs his laptop.
He searches your name, but he doesn’t find anything. He searches your name with a bunch of different keywords of things that could have happened to you that make his stomach twist, but nothing. Sighing, he lays his head back against the couch. This running girl is going to make him go crazy.
That evening, he is at the clubhouse for the holiday party, and true to your word, you are not there. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed, but he doesn’t know if it’s because he wants to help you or if he just wanted to see you. He is mingling with the residents of the neighborhood, catching up with neighbors that don’t live immediately beside him or on his street, when you gets brought up in a conversation.
It's with an older couple, along with a bachelor and a young couple that just had kids. The older woman smiles, warming to Izuku.
“I heard you started running with the newcomer.” She says sweetly. Izuku’s eyes snap to hers in surprise.
“Do you live by her?” The older man chuckles.
“Yes, she lives right across the street from us. Sweet girl, but quiet.” The husband of the younger couple speaks up.
“She hasn’t come out of her house much until recently. She would only leave to go to work, but I noticed she has started to jog the neighborhood.” His wife nods.
“Yeah, we went to take her a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ dish when she first moved in, but she seemed scared to stay outside for too long. We didn’t push, but it felt like she didn’t want anyone to know she was actually there. We left her alone after that.” Izuku takes in the information. To him, it’s clear that you are hiding from someone. The older woman starts to speak again.
“She has started to wave and tell us good morning, though, and she has a smile on her face whenever she comes back from her run, you wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you, dear?” She implies sweetly. Izuku blushes but smiles,
“You are always trying to set me up with someone, aren’t you?” He says. The conversation drifts again to another topic, but now he knows where you live, and he is getting more confirmation on what he was worried about. You are hiding, but from whom?
The next day, Izuku holds a baked dish that he made, while he knocks on your front door. He notices the curtain move slightly from the window right by the door, before you opened it up, surprised.
“How did you find me?” You asked, though you have a small smile on your face, despite being surprised. Izuku smiles.
“Your neighbors told me last night at the party, Can I come in?” He asks, eyes flicking behind you. You bite your lip, the wariness coming back.
“I don’t know..” You trail off. Izuku smiles at you.
“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want me to, but I did bake you something. I don’t know if you like sweets, but it’s my mom’s recipe, and it’s really good.” He hands you the dish, and it does smell really good. You sigh and move to the side, opening the door more.
“You can come in.” Izuku doesn’t question your decision and steps inside, immediately analyzing the house. It has the bare minimum- no personal touches, as if you have to leave at any moment, you could. He also notices the house needs a lot of work done on it.
He knows this house was on the market for a while because of the amount of work it needed, the roof and some of the floor being two of the biggest ones, but he didn’t realize it was finally sold. He turns to you.
“Did you get the roof and the floor fixed?” He asked you, concerned because he saw the pictures from the listing. Your eyes widened in surprise.
“How did you know about that?”
“So you haven’t.” You take the baked good to the kitchen.
“Money is just tight right now.” You say quietly, your hands gripping the counters. Izuku doesn’t hesitate.
“I’ll take care of it for you.” He watches the panic flood your face.
“No! I-I mean. Thank you, but I can handle it.” You smooth out. Izuku steps forward and says your name softly.
“I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me, but let me help you. Let me do this for you. The roof was in bad shape when the house was listed. I’m sure it has only gotten worse in the past six months; it could fall in. The floors had horrible soft spots. I’m surprised some of the flooring hasn’t fallen through either.” You bite your lip and look away.
“It has, hasn’t it?” He says flatly. “Show me.”
“Midoriya I’m fi-“
“Show. Me.” He says again, leaving no room for argument. You sigh again and lead him to the master bedroom, where in the middle of your floor, you have a big piece of wood lying on the floor on top of a huge hole that looks down directly into your crawl space.
“Shit, how long has this been like this?” You hug yourself.
“Two months.” Izuku curses under his breath. He pulls out his phone and immediately starts looking at a flooring company to call.
“Midoriya, you don’t have to. “ His eyes snap from his phone to you.
“This is getting fixed today. No wonder it’s so damn cold in here. This isn’t safe, and I won’t let you spend another night like this.” He stalks out of the bedroom, phone pressed to his ear as he dials the best flooring company, demanding they come out today, and he will pay whatever he has to.
Sure enough, about two hours later, you watched as Izuku was standing in your driveway talking to an employee of a flooring company, your arms wrapped around you as they walked up. The employee smiles at you and introduces himself, and holds out his hand. You take it tentatively with a tight smile. Izuku leads him to the master bedroom to show him what needs to be fixed. You can hear the muffled conversation.
“….. has to be fixed today.”
“…I can see, but we are backed…”
“…today. I will pay triple if I have to…”
“….Call my boss…” They both come out, and the employee steps out, and Izuku smiles at you.
“I can’t ask you to pay for this. I already feel bad.” Izuku puts his hand on your upper arm and looks at you with such intensity, you have to look away.
“You are not sleeping with a hole in your floor, I don’t mind.” The employee steps back inside and says that a crew will be here in an hour, and asks Midoriya to come out and sign the contract. He squeezes your arm with a smile and then walks out. Your heart can’t help but do a little stutter.
When the crew is done, and your floor looks brand new, Izuku sees the crew off, making sure all of them are gone before turning back to you.
“I’ll be back by next weekend to take a look at other things that need to be done. I will also look for someone to take a look at your roof.” You sigh.
“Midoriya, you have already done too much. I can’t pay you back for this. Please, I am grateful, but this is enough.” Midoriya shakes his head and grabs a piece of paper that was on your counter and a pen. He scribbles something down and then looks back at you.
“That is my number- if you need me, call me.” He turns back to your front door and opens it, stepping out. He looks over his shoulder back a you.
“I don’t know what you are running from, but whatever it is, I won’t let it get you.” He leaves, shutting the door softly behind him as you let out a sob and your eyes fill with tears.
That was two months ago, now you have a new roof, some of your plumbing has been fixed, the leak from the kitchen sink is fixed, you have a new washer and dryer, you have decorations and personality in your house and Midoriya- who has now insisted you call him Izuku- is at your house almost every day, even if it’s just to swing by while patrolling his neighborhood. His touches linger just a little bit longer, he hugs you now when he says hello and goodbye, and his eyes gaze on you for just a moment longer than what would be deemed as just friendly.
Your heart picks up speed whenever he is around, you smile too easily when he leaves, and you stare at your phone- waiting now for his random texts he sends you throughout the day. You shouldn’t- you know you shouldn’t, but you are falling hard. Maybe he is different then last time. Izuku is sweet and loving, and kind. He has helped fix your house up, brought you dinner, learned your favorite shows, and sends you random pictures with the caption made me think of you <3
It was another night when he stopped by, just to make sure that you were okay and if you needed anything. He bought you dinner on his way home, which made your chest fill with warmth. He sat with you while you ate, talking and laughing the way it comes so casually to you now. It was a Friday night, so he wasn’t in a rush. When he went to leave, you walked him to your door, stepping outside onto your porch as he turned around. He smiled at you.
“So, our run same time as always tomorrow?” Your eyes lit up as you smiled back at him.
“Of course, don’t be late.” He nods and moves his hand behind the back of his head as he starts to blush and get nervous.
“I was also wondering, are you free tomorrow evening? I would like to take you out on a real date.” You breathe hitched, and your heart rate picks up. This was the battle you have been facing for the past two months, between exploring something new, something potentially good, or keeping your heart safe. You had an internal struggle for a moment, one which Izuku did not force you to rush through, before you took a big breath.
“Yes, I would really like that.” His smile grew.
“Yeah? That’s awesome! I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow, okay?” You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. He steps forward and hugs you like he always does, arms wrapping around you and his hands going on your lower back while you wrap your arms around his neck. He buries his face in your neck and holds you for just a moment before pulling away.
“I will see you for our run.” He turns and starts his walk back to his house, while you go inside, the butterflies in your stomach keeping you company long after he left.
It was the middle of the night when Izuku’s phone started to ring. He woke up with a jolt and immediately grabbed it, thinking it was the dispatcher for his agency about a hero emergency. A different dread took him when he realized it was the husband of the older couple that lived across from you. Did something happen to his wife? Are they okay? He quickly answers it.
“Hey! Are you guys okay?! What’s the matter?” Izuku frantically asked, already getting out of bed to find pants and a shirt. He hears his wife muttering frantically in the background as the older man talks.
“We are fine, but Midoriya it’s-“ He pauses, and then Izuku hears his wife gasp, and the husband say your name. Izuku panics.
“What?! What’s wrong with her?” He is bolting out of his house, running down the street to your house, hand gripping the phone tightly, waiting for an update.
“We don’t know exactly what is happening, but there is a car we have never seen before outside, and we can hear screaming and things being thrown. Izuku- you have to hurry, something is wrong.” Izuku is already almost there. He thanks your neighbor for calling him and hangs up, seeing your house now and the vehicle. He can hear the screaming- you're screaming, broken, crying, you are apologizing through the sobs.
The door is already kicked in when he arrives, and he quickly assesses the scene. Broken glass on the floor, some of the paintings you hung up are ripped and tattered on the floor, and smaller pieces of furniture, like the lamp he bought you, were smashed. He moves quickly when he hears what sounds like a body hitting the wall, a man yelling, and you cry out, still yelling apologies through your ragged breathing.
He makes his way to the master bedroom, where he sees the scene that will be stuck inside his mind for the rest of his life. A man is standing over you, yelling about how you shouldn’t have left. You are bleeding, definitely have a broken arm, and he can already see different parts of your body starting to swell from punches that will definitely bruise later. He sees your tear-streaked face as you are mumbling to this pathetic excuse about how you are sorry, and the two of them can leave right now.
“The only place you are going is a hospital, and the only place you are going is to a jail cell,” Izuku says calmly, but if you looked- his eyes had fire in them. He was pissed, and in front of him, there wasn’t a man- there was a villain, the worst one he had ever come across.
“This does concern you, hero.” The man sneers. Izuku takes a step forward, fist clenched.
“Everything, when it comes to her concerns me. Back. Up.” You are whimpering, in pain, but scared for Izuku.
“Please, Izu- just leave.” You mutter. The man sizes Izuku up.
“I didn’t like watching you hug on my girl. You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.” Izuku swings back his arm and lands a punch right on the man’s face. He stumbles back, immediately moving a hand up to cup his cheek.
“She isn’t yours. She isn’t anyone's- and she is not a thing. Say that shit again- I dare you.” The man in front of Izuku goes to swing, but Izuku didn’t get a spot in the top ten for no reason. You wouldn’t even call it a fight, as Izuku easily took down your ex with such efficiency that you aren’t even sure he was able to get a punch on Izuku. Just to satisfy himself, though, Izuku gave another good punch to his face, knocking him unconscious- already hearing the police sirens in the distance. Your neighbors must have called the cops after calling Izuku.
When the police come in, Izuku tells them immediately to grab the man. When they make the pass off, he doesn’t hesitate to come to your side. He doesn’t touch you, not wanting to hurt you more than what you already are, but you can see his heart breaking through his eyes. You look away, shame filling you.
“I didn’t want you to see.” You whisper. Izuku shakes his head.
“This isn’t your fault, you don’t have to hide from me.” A tear traces down your cheek, and Izuku catches it with his hand.
“He is never going to hurt you again, I promise.” He says with the same confidence he does when he is working as a pro, making a vow to the civilians he saves every day. A medic comes in, and Izuku steps away, letting them do their assessment on you. Giving you space, he walks across the street to let the older couple know that you will be okay and to thank them again for calling him.
“We feel terrible that we couldn’t do more.” The older woman says. Izuku shakes his head.
“You did plenty. It’s because of you that she is alive right now.” He says. He looks back towards the house and sees that they are wheeling you out on a gurney. He excuses himself and goes back over to hear that you are being taken to the hospital for scans and to get a cast on your arm. He looks at you, grabbing one of your hands.
“Do you want me to ride with you?” You think for a moment before you nod your head.
“If you don’t mind.” You say weakly. He gives you one of his soft smiles, the one reserved only for you.
“I never mind when it comes to you.” He gets in the back of the ambulance with you. Holding your hand the entire way.
Almost a year later, you hold Izuku’s hand as the two of you walk into the clubhouse. The entire clubhouse has been decorated for the holidays, and soft holiday music plays while the residents of the neighborhood eat, drink, and mingle. He leans down and whispers in your ear.
“When you are ready to go, just say the word.” You nod your head and smile at him before pressing a kiss to his lips.
“There’s the lovely couple!” The older woman who lives across the street from you exclaims. You smile and wrap your arms around her, giving her a slight squeeze. You chat for a few moments before going with Izuku to get a drink from the table. When you get there, the new couple that moved in a few months ago is there, where Izuku says hello to them, smiling bright as always. The four of you talk, and then the man asks, as he gestures to Izuku’s arm around your waist.
“So how did the two of you meet?” You and Izuku look at each other and smile, love in both of your eyes as Izuku says.
“Well, it all started when I saw her running in the neighborhood.”
