raqqtsx0

[raqqtsx0]

My kind of woman. Katsuki bakugo

Bakugo pov, bakugo is IN LOVE with reader of course he would never say anything tho common hes bakugo.

(Heh i got the idea from ‘my kind of woman’ by mac demarco, but i feel like it’s not entirely like the song?)

(Bakugou Pov the whole fic!!!!)

He walks into the common room, and you’re already there. Curled up on the couch, knees to your chest, hair in your face. Laughing at some dumb movie with the others. He pretends not to look at you. He fails. Because you look at him first. You always do.

“Hey, Bakugo.” His name sounds different in your mouth. It always does. He grunts back. Doesn’t trust himself to say more. You scoot over making space for him. Like it means nothing. Like you don’t know what you’re doing. Like you don’t know he’s in love with you.

He drops down beside you. Too close. But Not close enough. You smell like cheap shampoo and strawberry gum. It drives him fucking insane. You pass him the popcorn. Your fingers brush, and for just a second, he thinks about what it’d be like to hold your hand.

He hates himself for it. Because you’re not his. And you never will be. But you’re his kind of woman and that’s the problem.

He doesn’t watch the movie. He watches you.

Not directly he’s not fucking obvious but enough to memorize the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The way you lean your head on your hand when you’re tired. The way you chew on your sleeve when something makes you nervous. You don’t even know what you do to him. He swears you don’t. You shift a little closer, your knee knocks into his. You don’t move away. Neither does he.

He wishes you would.

(He doesn’t.)

Because if he let himself think about it what it means, how often it happens he’d lose it. So he doesn’t. He just stays there. Still. Quiet. Pretending. When your head falls against his shoulder halfway through the movie, he doesn’t breathe.

Doesn’t dare to.

Because if he moves, you’ll pull away.

And he’d rather fucking suffocate.

Later at his dorm.

He stares at the ceiling for what feels like hours. Music playing low from his phone Mac DeMarco, the stupid track you showed him.

“You’re my, my, my, my kind of woman…” He knows every word now. Not because he tried to. It just….Happened. His hand lays flat on his chest, right over the ache. He doesn’t know what to call it anymore. He doesn’t think it matters.

It’s not like you’re his or something. You never were. But you talk to him like you are. You look at him like you’re not scared of him. Like you know him. And sometimes, you smile at him like you might actually feel it too.

Like when you gave him that stupid strawberry bandage for his knuckle. It wasn’t even a real injury.

“Hold still.” You said. Before he could tell you to leave him alone you were already digging in your bag. You pulled out a little tin of band-aids. Soft pink. Printed with stupid strawberries.

He stared at it. You just shrugged. “They’re all I had.”

He should’ve said no. He didn’t. Because your hands were warm. Because you held his like it mattered. Because your brow furrowed when you saw the scrape.

An for a second just a second he felt like maybe someone gave a shit. You smoothed the bandage over his skin, gentle. Careful.

“There. All better.” You smiled. That smile that gets his heart fluttering every time. You treat him like he’s not a monster. Like he’s not too loud, too much. Like maybe he’s someone worth staying for. It’s like you’re a secret the world forgot to keep from him. that smile God, that smile makes him want to say shit he’s not supposed to want to say.

Bakugo rolls over and grumbles remembering the small action you did. He tells himself it’s just a phase. Just a crush. But every time he closes his eyes, it’s not a crush. It’s her like a slow ache in his chest that doesn’t quit. He hates how much he wants to say it out loud. But he never will. Because some things are better left unspoken. His brain doesn’t listen. Instead, it hands him her. Again.

He was late coming back. He Missed dinner, even missed the movie night in the common room.

He didn’t expect anyone to notice. But when he walked in, there you were. Asleep on the couch, hoodie half off your shoulder, waiting with a plate of leftovers beside you.

His name scribbled on a sticky note.

“In case you’re hungry. Sleep good, angry boy.”

He stared at the note longer than the food. Didn’t touch it for a while. Just… looked. He replays that moment more than he’d admit. Not because of the food. Not even the note. Just the part where you waited. You didn’t have to. But you did.

Bakugo slides his hand down his face grumbling in frustration. He knows he’s fucked up plenty of times. Knows he’s not the easiest to love. But she stays and that’s the part that’s killing him. Because every time he thinks about telling her, he imagines losing her instead. So he listens to your stupid song instead. “My kind of woman..”

[raqqtsx0]

Stop looking at me like that. Katsuki Bakugo

Fluff/slow burn.

The classroom was dead silent.

Even the air felt different now that the sun had dipped behind the windows long golden streaks slashing across the empty desks, painting shadows like they were watching. You shouldn’t still be here.

Neither should he.

But here you were. You, still finishing some notes you missed during Aizawa’s lecture, and Bakugo, sitting diagonally behind you, unmoving. He hadn’t made a sound in the last fifteen minutes. Not even the scratch of a pencil. Not a huff. Not a single explosive curse.

You tried to ignore the weight of his stare. You really did. But your spine had gone stiff under it, and your pulse was starting to crawl under your skin.

You glanced over your shoulder, slow. His eyes met yours instantly. Caught. Your breath caught too.

“…What?” you asked.

Bakugo blinked once. His mouth twisted, but no words came out at first. He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t know what the argument was.

Then finally, with a scowl forming

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You turned in your chair. “Like what?”

He shifted. Uncomfortable. Like you’d hit a nerve. “Like that.”

You raised a brow, trying not to smile. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He hesitated. Then muttered, more to the desk than to you.

“With that fucking face.”

A beat of silence.

You blinked, surprised. “My face?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”

You laughed, soft and breathless. “What does that even mean, Bakugo?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated but not leaving. Not storming out like he usually would. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward the ceiling.

“You look at me like I’m not a fuckin’ problem.”

You paused. That shut you up. “Because you’re not,” you said quietly.

He scoffed. But it wasn’t cruel it was something shakier.

“Yeah? Then why does it feel like you’re the only one who doesn’t see it?”

You turned fully now, folding your arms on the back of the chair. “Maybe that says more about them than it does about you.”

He looked at you. Really looked. None of the usual annoyance. Just quiet. Like something was coming undone in his chest.

You could feel the tension knotting between you, heavy and unspoken. Then, softly

“…You piss me off.”

You smiled. “Because I don’t treat you like a grenade?”

“No,” he muttered. “Because I want to kiss you and I don’t know how to not blow that up.”

Your smile faded. A beat passed. The room tilted.

You stood slowly, heart pounding. Walked toward him on steady legs even though your stomach felt like it was made of paper.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t back away. He just stared.

You reached out barely like you were going to touch his cheek. But your hand hovered there, not brave enough. Not yet.

“…Katsuki.” She says his name like it hurts to say. His breath hitched. He leaned in.

Slow. Slower. Close enough that your lashes almost brushed.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. Then flicked up again.

And just when your lips were a breath away

CREEAAAK.

The classroom door cracked open a few inches. Wind slipped through, chilling the tension in the air like a slap to the face.

You both jerked apart.

Bakugo stepped back like he’d been burned.

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing his bag with more force than necessary. You stayed frozen. Skin tingling. Heart in your throat.

He didn’t look at you as he headed toward the door, jaw clenched tight. But before he crossed the threshold, he paused. Just enough to throw his voice over his shoulder:

“…Don’t look at me like that unless you mean it.”

Then he was gone. The door clicked shut behind him. You stood there, breathless.

Still meaning it.

[raqqtsx0]

The Warmth he brings me. Shoto Todoroki.

Shoto todoroki and his warm hands.(I got lazy on the color.)

The first snowfall came on a Friday.

You hadn’t expected it so early, but the skies over Musutafu didn’t ask for permission. By the time your last class ended, everything was already coated in a soft blanket of white. You tugged your scarf tighter, fingers clenching the fabric as you stepped outside the main building and made your way back toward the dorms. The cold bit into your hands, even through your gloves.

You were halfway across the training field shortcut when you saw him, Todoroki. His breath fogged in the cold air, his hair dusted with tiny flakes like he was part of the snowfall itself. He stood with his back to you, gazing out at the trees just beyond the school wall. Of course he wasn’t shivering. You hesitated. You weren’t even that close, really. You shared a few classes, trained together sometimes. Spoke on occasion. But you weren’t on his list of “go to people,” and he definitely wasn’t on yours.

So why did your feet keep walking toward him? Maybe because something about him in winter just looked…lonely. You stopped beside him, not quite facing him.

“Hey,” you said quietly. He blinked, turning slowly. His eyes icy blue and burning gray landed on yours, unreadable.

“Hi,” he replied, voice low and smooth, like always. “You’re walking back alone?”

“Yeah. Shortcut.”

He glanced down at your hands. “You’re not wearing proper gloves.”

You held them up. “They’re gloves! Just not… good ones.”

“Let me see.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your hands. They’re red from the cold.”

Your pulse flickered. You lifted them slowly, fingers trembling a little. He reached out, hesitated then gently took one of your hands in his.

Your breath caught. His right hand warm. Not scalding, just enough. Enough to chase away the numbness that had settled in your fingertips. His palm cupped yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he. The silence hung between you like breath in the air, visible, soft, fragile.

“You should carry heat packs,” he murmured. “Or use your pockets.”

“I like to feel the snow sometimes,” you admitted, smiling shyly. “But then I regret it.” He looked at you then, really looked, eyes narrowing just a little in something like curiosity. “You like the cold?”

“I like the quiet it brings,” you said softly. “Even if it hurts sometimes.”

His grip shifted slightly, firmer. “I know what that feels like.” You didn’t have to ask what he meant.

After another few seconds, he let go, gently, like he didn’t want to startle you. The cold hit again, but you didn’t shiver this time. Not with the way your chest felt warm. “You can use my hand again,” he added, glancing away, “if it gets too cold.”

You tried not to smile too hard. “That’s an awfully generous offer.”

“I’m known for my generosity,” he deadpanned.

You laughed. He almost—almost smiled.

(AN: Idk i thought this was cute but idk lmk.😅)

[raqqtsx0]

Just for him. Katsuki Bakugo

An: Sorry for not posting💔( why is smut awkward to write..😅)

word count 3,600, smut!!

Everyone thought you were sweet. You smiled at teachers, helped your classmates with notes, giggled at dumb jokes even if they weren’t funny. You never got detention. Your skirt was always regulation length, your hair neat, your tone respectful. To everyone else, you were the model student. But Bakugou Katsuki? He knew better.

And right now, he was watching you with that smug, all knowing look from across the common room couch, arms slung lazily across the back, legs spread, head tilted like he was bored. But his eyes told a different story. He watched your fingers twirl around your straw. Watched the way you smiled at Deku too polite, too bright. Watched your teeth sink into your bottom lip when you locked eyes with him across the room for half a second too long. He watched it all. Because he’d seen the way you clutched his hoodie when you snuck into his room two weeks ago. The way your voice had dropped an octave when you’d whispered, “Don’t tell anyone I begged for it.”

He knew your little game. And tonight? He was gonna fuckin’ end it.

Bakugou’s hands were everywhere now gripping your hips, lifting your shirt, pulling down your panties with impatient swipes.

“You want people to see you like this?” he muttered, lips brushing your jaw as he shoved his thigh between your legs. “Or just me?”

“J-just you,” you whimpered.

“Damn right,” he growled, yanking you closer until your hips were flush. You felt him—hard and thick through his sweats, grinding against you slowly as your back hit the door.

“Touch yourself.” You blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped, eyes locked on yours. “Be a good girl and show me how much you need it.”

Your shaky hand moved down, slipping between your thighs. He watched every second. “Slower,” he whispered. “Look me in the eye.” Your breath hitched as your fingers slid through your slick folds, rubbing slow circles over your clit. Bakugou’s jaw clenched, one hand fisting at his side.

“Fuckin’ tease,” he muttered. “You like this? Knowing I’m watching?”

“Yes,” you whispered, thighs trembling. He stepped forward, knocking your hand away and replacing it with his own.

“Too slow. Let me show you how it’s really done.” You cried out as he rubbed tight, fast circles, two fingers sliding inside with zero warning. “Louder,” he hissed. “Let the whole fuckin’ dorm know you’re mine.”

“Katsuki—!”

“Say it. Let everyone know what you really are.”

“I’m yours,” you moaned. “Only yours.”

“Damn right.” He ripped your shirt over your head, baring your chest, tongue dragging down between your breasts as he dropped to his knees. You gasped when he licked a stripe up your inner thigh.

“Fuckin filthy under all that sugar,” he groaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good though…” He ate you like he was starving. Hands gripping your thighs, tongue teasing your clit until your legs shook and your hand clawed through his hair.

“Katsuki—I’m—gonna—”

“Cum on my tongue, baby,” he growled. “Show me what that good girl mouth hides.”

You came hard legs shaking, moaning his name like a prayer you weren’t supposed to say out loud.

But he wasn’t done.

He stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like a man possessed. Then he shoved you onto the bed, yanking his sweats down and climbing over you.

“Only I get to see you like this.” he whispered against your ear lining up and thrusting into you all at once. You screamed his name.

“F-fuck you’re so deep!”

“Damn right I am,” he grunted, snapping his hips into you over and over. “Gonna fuck the innocence right outta you.” You clawed at his back, meeting each thrust like your life depended on it.

“You like it rough, huh?” he snarled. “Like bein’ my dirty little secret?” You nodded frantically.

“Then take it. All of it.” He pinned your wrists above your head and pounded into you harder and faster slamming against your g-spot so relentlessly you felt your second orgasm building too fast.

katsuki gonna cum..” He leaned down, biting your neck.

“Cum for me then baby.” You came HARD, body arching off the bed as you clenched around him. Bakugou groaned low and dark, spilling inside you with a final, brutal thrust.

You both lay there, sweat slick and panting. Bakugou ran a hand over your hair, his voice softer now.

“No one else gets to see you like this.”

“I don’t want anyone else to,” you whispered, curling into his chest. He kissed the top of your head and muttered against your skin

“Then you better be mine. For real.”

You smiled. “Only yours.”

[raqqtsx0]

Hiii, i love the way you write!! i was wondering if you could do something with Shoto, like teaching him to play a video game? just some fluff (*＞∇＜)ﾉ tyyy!!

Tactical love. Shoto Todoroki

AN:(Heh first request kinda nervous 🥹😛.) Brooo idk what color to do for todoroki im sorry if it looks weird💔. i’m sorry if this isn’t what you requested or if you don’t like it.

word count 1.6k

……

You never thought the words “Shoto Todoroki” and “Victory Royale” would exist in the same sentence. Yet here you were, several hours into what started as an regular “let’s chill after training” hangout in your dorm, and he was currently squinting at the screen.

“What does this button do again?”

“Jump.”

“And this?”

“Crouch.”

“Why would I want to crouch?”

“So people don’t shoot you in the face.”

He stared down at the controller with a level of caution like it was going to explode. “This seems unnecessarily complicated.”

“You fight villains every day and this is what breaks you?”

“Villains don’t build staircases mid-battle.”

You started a match. He immediately landed off the map.

“Am I supposed to do that?”

“No, Shoto, no you are NOT supposed to skydive into the ocean.”

By the third round, he got killed by a bush camper. By the fourth, he accidentally grenaded himself. By the fifth, he didn’t know how to pick up a gun.

“Why won’t it let me take the weapon?”. “Because you’re trying to mine it with your pickaxe like a psychopath.” You were laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

He, on the other hand, was silent laser focused, jaw tight, eyes narrowed, and you knew that look.

He hated losing.

“Do you want to stop?” you asked, once he got knocked again.

“No,” he said calmly. “I’m going to win. Eventually.”

“It’s just Fortnite.”

“It’s not. It’s… principle now.”

You weren’t sure what was funnier the fact that Shoto Todoroki had declared war on a video game, or the fact that he still can’t aim. You ended the night with him managing to survive to top 10 while hiding in a bush the entire time. He was weirdly proud.

“That was strategy,” he said.

“That was cowardice.”

“Tactical cowardice,” he corrected.

You thought that was the end of it. You thought oh okay no more fortnite. You were wrong.

That same night barely an hour after he left your dorm your phone buzzed.

[Shoto Todoroki, 11:18 PM]

Are you online?

I want to try again.

[You, 11:19 PM]

Shoto it’s almost midnight.

You died to fall damage three times.

Go to sleep.

[Shoto Todoroki, 11:20 PM]

I watched some tutorials.

I think I understand now.

I won a solo match.

Come play duos with me.

You blinked.

“You WHAT?”

You joined his party just to see if he was lying.

He was not.

Bro had gone from complete disaster to cranking 90s, editing walls, and sniping people mid-air like he’d been playing since birth. “Did you sell your soul?” you asked, as he casually wiped out a whole squad.

“No,” he said. “I just… focused.”

“You died to fall damage.”

“That was before I learned how to sprint.”

“I’m scared of you.”

“I’ll protect you.”

You didn’t even have time to react to that because he boxed you in, dropped you a purple shotgun, and then took out two more enemies.

He was so calm while playing now. Too calm.

“They’re moving left,” he muttered into the mic, voice smooth. “I can push them. you can bait.”

“You are terrifying.”

“You said you wanted to teach me. This is your fault.”

Your friends started noticing, too. Kirishima joined one night and immediately went,

“Wait…. Bro, why is Todoroki lowkey cracked..?”

Todoroki just quietly replied,

“I’m learning fast.”

He wasn’t just good. He was pocket protector, god-tier, I’m only here to make sure you win good. He started dropping heals before you even asked. hes literally your fortnite boyfriend. He even knew your favorite loadouts and carried you when you lagged.

“I think he’s in love,” Kaminari whispered

“With Fortnite?” you asked

“With you, bro.”

You weren’t ready to unpack that, so you built a ramp and ran from it.

It became a thing. Every night. Eventually he stopped asking if you were free. Now he just sent one word messages:

“Lobby?”

“Drop?”

“You on?”

Until one night, after your fourth win in a row, you said, “You’re kinda pro at this…” And he smiled that soft, lopsided, only for you smile.

“I’m good because you taught me.”

“And because I like being on your team.”

Your controller nearly slipped out of your hands. You tried to play it off. “Guess we’re a good duo.”

“The best,” he said.

“In Fortnite?”

He looked at you.

“In everything.”

[raqqtsx0]

If it meant anything. Katsuki Bakugo

AN: running out of ideas guys💔 pls help!

Angst. Word count: ~1.3k

⸻

It always started the same

He’s yelling at someone across the field. His palms are sparking. His eyes sharp, furious scan the room like he’s ready to explode again. You watch from the sidelines, heart aching. Because you used to be the only person he didn’t yell at.

Not anymore.

You still remember the first time you made him laugh.

It was late. After training. You were sitting on the steps outside the dorms, holding a half-eaten energy bar, complaining about how stupid hero calculus was, and how your legs still ached from Aizawa’s circuit run. He just looked at you, rolled his eyes, and said, “You whine like Kaminari but you keep up like me. Pick one.”

You fake gasped. “Was that… a compliment?” He smirked. That smirk is long gone now. He’s not yours anymore. Not that he ever really was.

But he used to sit next to you during lunch. Used to pass you your water bottle without looking. Used to stay after training just to walk back with you even when his quirk was drained and his muscles were shaking.

Now?

Now he stays late with her. You don’t even blame her. She’s kind. Strong. Bright. A real hero in the making. The kind of girl who fits beside him in the spotlight.

You? You’re the one behind the scenes. Watching. Wanting. Wishing. You try not to let it show. You’re good at hiding things. But when he walks into class, laughing under his breath, and she’s the one next to him smiling, elbowing his side like she belongs there—it hurts. More than you ever let anyone see.

Even him. Especially him.

Later that night, you think you’re alone in the common room. You’re sitting on the couch, hoodie wrapped around your knees, barely breathing. The lights are low. Quiet humming comes from the fridge in the kitchen.

And then you hear it. Footsteps.

You stiffen.

“Bakugo.?” you ask softly, barely turning.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just stands there, half in shadow, staring at you with unreadable eyes. “You were crying.”

It’s not a question. You turn your face toward the window. “I wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie.”

You exhale slowly, shaky. “Why do you care?” That gets him. His jaw clenches. “Tch. I don’t.”

“Right.” You stand. Try to move past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Wait.” Your breath catches. You look at him. For the first time in weeks, really look.

He’s tired. Eyes shadowed. Sparks low and unfocused. There’s something raw under the surface. Something he doesn’t want you to see but can’t hide fast enough.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he says finally. Voice low. Rough.

You try to pull your wrist free. “You didn’t ignore me. You forgot me. That’s different.”

He flinches. “Shit,” he mutters. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It felt like that,” you snap, sharper than you mean to. “I used to be someone to you. And now I’m just… nothing.”

“You’re not nothing.”

“Then what am I, Katsuki?”

Silence. Your name hangs in the air like smoke.

He lets go of your wrist. You want him to say something. Anything.

That he chose her because she was easier. That he misses you. That he still thinks about you late at night. That he regrets everything.

But all he says is

“I don’t know.”

And maybe that’s worse than silence.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod. “Okay.”

You start walking toward the stairs. He doesn’t stop you.

Later that night, he finds a note under his door. It’s not signed. But he knows it’s from you.

“I hope she’s everything you need. I wish I had been enough to even be considered.”

He reads it twice. Then tears it up and tosses it. Not because he’s angry. But because he can’t stand how much it hurts to know he let you believe that.

Let you walk away thinking it was never you. When it had been. The whole time.

But by the time he’s ready to say it You’ve already stopped waiting.

[raqqtsx0]

Fireworks and first kisses . Katsuki Bakugo

AN: sorry for spam posting i have nothing better to do..💔

The smell of grilled squid, candied apples, and smoke hangs heavy in the summer air as you nudge Bakugou’s arm with your elbow. “You seriously wore your hero training shirt to a festival?” you tease, eyeing his usual black top and that familiar pissed-off scowl.

“Tch. Didn’t realize I had to dress like a fuckin’ clown to buy a damn taiyaki.”

You laugh. “I mean, it’s a festival. You could try smiling, at least.”

He snorts. “I am smiling.” You glance up at him he’s not. But his eyes flick to you for a second, and there’s a softness there he doesn’t show anyone else. The two of you have been walking side by side all night. You met up with the rest of the class earlier, but you and Bakugou peeled off somewhere between the yakisoba stand and the goldfish scooping game.

Now it’s just you and him. Alone. Again.

And it feels… different tonight. Electric.

You stop when you reach the edge of the park, where the crowd thins and the trees part to reveal the lake. Fireflies flicker along the path like stars. There’s a hill just beyond the trees where you used to sit as kids during festivals, when Bakugou would pretend to hate fireworks but always watch them anyway.

You point. “Wanna sit there?”

He shrugs. “Don’t care.”

(But he walks faster. He does care.)

You settle in beside him, your knees brushing, the sky already dimming to deep blue. The crowd buzzes somewhere behind you, but up here it’s quiet. Peaceful. You glance sideways at him.

He’s not looking at the fireworks booth or the lake.

He’s watching you.

“Katsuki,” you say, nudging him lightly, “you good?”

He scoffs and looks away. “Yeah. Just… thinkin’.”

“About what?”

“…Stuff.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Deep.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real heat. “Shut up.”

Then he mutters, quieter:

“‘Bout you, dumbass.” Your breath catches. “What?” He doesn’t answer. Not right away. The first firework explodes above—gold and white, loud enough to shake your chest. You both look up, but your heart’s still stuck on his words. You glance back at him. He’s tense. Jaw tight. Hands fisted in his lap.

“I’m not good at this shit,” he says finally. “Talkin’. Feelin’ shit.”

You turn your body toward him. “Katsuki…”

“I ain’t tryin’ to make it weird. I just…” he stops, scowls, then forces it out like it’s burning on his tongue:

“I fuckin’ like you, alright?”

The sky lights up again blue and silver this time but your entire focus is on him. You don’t laugh. Don’t tease.

Instead, you lean in, slow and sure, and say softly

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” Bakugou freezes. “You… what?”

You smile, heart hammering in your chest. “I like you too, idiot.”

His eyes flick to your lips, then back up. “You serious?”

“I just confessed to liking you. During fireworks. On a hill. Yes, I’m serious.”

He makes a frustrated sound and grabs your face gently, surprisingly calloused hands warm against your cheeks.

“You drive me insane.”

“Then kiss me already.”

So he does. And shit, he kisses like he fights fierce, focused, like he’s been holding back for years and finally let himself feel everything at once. He tastes like fireworks and sugar and everything you’ve ever wanted.

You smile into it, fingers curling into the front of his shirt. When you pull back, barely, his forehead rests against yours.

“No goin’ back now,” he mutters. “Don’t wanna go back.” The sky lights up again but this time, you don’t even look.

[raqqtsx0]

Stay with me, even just tonight. Izuku Midorya

Fluff? 1k+ words.

Summary: Reader has to leave UA because of her family’s choices, izuku can’t let Y/N leave without telling her..

By the time he knocks on your door, it’s already past midnight. The common room is quiet. Dorm lights are dim. Everyone else is asleep or at least pretending to be. You’re standing by your window, a duffel bag half-packed at your feet. Your uniform jacket hangs limp over your desk chair. The air feels heavier than it should, like the walls themselves know you’re leaving.

A soft knock. Then a voice “It’s me… Midoriya.” Your heart stutters. You pull the door open. He’s standing there in his sleep clothes, plain black shirt, sweatpants, barefoot on the cool hallway floor. His green curls are messy, and there’s a hesitation in his eyes that almost breaks you.

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” he says. “I figured you couldn’t either.”

You blink hard. “You figured right.” There’s a pause. Neither of you moves.

“Can I come in?” he asks softly.

You nod. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He steps inside. You close the door behind him.

Midoriya takes a seat on the edge of your bed, eyes flicking to your half-packed bag. The straps are loose, and the zipper’s open, clothes spilling out like you’re not really trying to leave. Like part of you still hopes someone will stop you. “So… tomorrow,” he says, voice quiet. “You’re really going?”

You nod slowly, sitting beside him. “Transfer orders are finalized. My mom signed off. Principal Nezu approved it last night.”

“But… you don’t want to go.”

Your throat tightens. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” The room goes still. You can hear your heartbeat. Loud. Messy. Rushing.

“I didn’t want to say anything before,” he says, his voice rougher now, “because I didn’t want to make this harder for you. But I’m fucking- sorry, I’m really upset about this.”

You smile, but it’s tired. “You’re allowed to say fuck, Midoriya.”

“Then fuck it. I don’t want you to leave.”

He turns to you, eyes blazing now not with anger, but with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on at the time.

“You’re one of the strongest people in this class. One of the best. And… you get me. More than anyone.”

You stare down at your hands. “It’s not about strength. It’s my family. They think U.A.’s too dangerous. Too much risk. They want me at a normal school.”

“But you don’t want that.”

“No,” you say, barely audible. “I want to stay. I want to stay here with you.” The words slip out before you can stop them. You flinch but he doesn’t. He reaches for your hand. Slowly. Gently. Fingers brush your wrist, then slide into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Then stay with me,” he whispers. “Even just tonight. Please.” You look up. Your faces are close. You can see the freckles across his nose, the way his lips part slightly when he breathes.

“You’re gonna make this impossible, izuku…”

He laughs softly, eyes glinting. “Good.”

You sit there for a long time, fingers interlaced, saying nothing. Then you lie back on the bed, and he lies next to you. You stare at the ceiling.

“I used to dream about this,” he says suddenly.

You glance over. “Lying in a girl’s bed?”

“Your bed.” He flushes. “I mean not like, in a creepy way! Just… being close. Being with you.”

You turn toward him, your face barely inches from his. The room feels warmer now.

“You’ve always been the one,” he murmurs. “I tried to ignore it. Focus on hero training. But every time you smiled at me or grabbed my wrist mid-battle or sat next to me in class… it was like this countdown started, and I couldn’t stop it.”

Your heart’s going to rip through your chest. You know it.

“Say it, Izuku,” you whisper. “If this is our last night, don’t leave anything unsaid.”

His voice drops to a hush. “I love you.”

And then

Your hands tangle in his shirt, and his mouth finds yours like he’s been waiting forever.

The kiss is desperate and slow all at once , tension unraveling, breath hitching. His hand slides to your waist, firm but hesitant. Yours cradles the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He kisses you like he’s memorizing it. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You break away just long enough to whisper, “You kiss like you’re scared.” He presses his forehead to yours.

“I am scared,” he breathes. “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

You stay like that for a while kissing softly, tangled in each other under the covers, whispering things you wouldn’t dare say in daylight.

Eventually, your breathing slows. The night stretches long and quiet. You fall asleep in his arms, his nose buried in your hair, his hand wrapped around yours like a promise.

THE NEXT MORNING

The sun rises. Your phone buzzes with a reminder about your transfer. You stare at the message. Then at Izuku. His eyes flutter open when you shift beside him. “You still leaving?” he asks, voice hoarse from sleep.

You hesitate. Then delete the message.

“Not yet,” you whisper. “I think I want one more night like this.” His smile is slow, sleepy, and full of hope.

“Then I’ll make sure every night makes you want to stay.”

[raqqtsx0]

more than sex. Katsuki Bakugo

TW: not proof read, smut, fem reader, creampie,jealous sex?

You and Bakugo had been messing around since the start of second year at U.A.

No strings. No drama. Just something to blow off steam after training or long missions. It was his idea of course.

“We’re not dating,” he had said. “Just stress relief. Got it?”

You agreed. Because getting close to Bakugo meant getting hurt. Because you swore you could handle it. Because it was just sex.

…Until it wasn’t.

⸻

The dorm party was supposed to be chill.

The common room was lit with soft LEDs, music playing low, drinks being passed around, and everyone was in a good mood. You showed up wearing something tight and black and low-cut because you could.

Kaminari saw you and smiled wide.

“Damn, Y/N. You tryna give a guy a heart attack?” You laughed, leaning into his side a little too easily. “Just felt like dressing up.”

He put a hand on your lower back. “You look good.” You smiled but your eyes flicked to the door. Waiting.

Then he arrived.

Bakugo walked in wearing a black tee, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. His red eyes swept the room once landing square on you. His gaze dropped to where Kaminari’s hand still rested. His expression shifted subtle, but dark.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. That sharp, possessive look said enough.

And when Kaminari leaned closer to whisper something in your ear, probably innocent—Bakugo turned and walked straight back out the door.

⸻

You found him out back, leaning against the dorm wall, hands clenched at his sides.

“You gonna throw a tantrum every time I talk to someone?” you snapped. He turned slowly.

“You flirted with that extra in front of everyone,” he growled. “You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I didn’t realize I was breaking the rules of our little arrangement, and me and him weren’t even flirting..”

His jaw clenched. “It wasn’t just talking.”

“What, he touched my back? You’ve done worse in public.”

“That’s different..” he says his voice low

“Why?” you challenged. “Because you want me and no one else can?” He stepped forward. Your back hit the wall.

“I’m not fuckin’ sharing you.” Your breath caught.

“You said this was just fun.” He stared down at you. Furious. Breathing hard.

“Yeah, well… maybe I didn’t want it to be.” But before you could say anything, his hand slid to your waist. Pulled you close. His voice dropped.

“You really want him?” he asked, low. “You want Kaminari touching you?” She gulps hard and shakes her head.

“Then let me remind you who this fuckin’ body belongs to.”

You barely made it back to your room before Bakugo kicked the door shut and shoved you against it.

His mouth crashed onto yours hungry, messy, full of anger and something else you weren’t ready to name. His tongue slid in deep, tasting every gasp you made. His hands gripped your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing.

You wrapped your legs around his waist. His hard cock pressed against your core through your shorts.

He growled, biting your lip. “You like being watched, huh?”

“What?”

“You dressed like that on purpose. Wanted to show off. Wanted me pissed.”

“Maybe,” you breathed. He laughed dark,and mean. He yanked your shirt up, mouth immediately finding your chest, sucking marks into your skin.

“You’re mine tonight,” he muttered against your skin. “You understand?” He says as he bites and nibbles at your skin. You nodded.

“No,” he hissed, dragging your panties down. “Say it.” He looks at you through his crimson eyes, his glare piercing deep through your soul.

“I’m yours..” She says softly. He dropped to his knees and spread your thighs wide, tossing one over his shoulder. And then his mouth was on you filthy, tongue moving fast, sloppy, wet, eating you like he was trying to make you scream for forgiveness. You tangled your fingers in his hair and sobbed as he sucked your clit and shoved two fingers inside you.

“Katsuki…fuck—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop. In fact, he doubled down. You came hard, legs shaking around his head, mouth hanging open, back arched off the door. He held you through it, licking until you squirmed. Then he stood up, lips shiny, eyes wild.

“You look wrecked already,” he smirked, tugging his pants down just enough to free his cock, long, thick, red at the tip, already leaking. “You think he could give it to you like this?” he asked, dragging his cock between your folds, teasing. “You think anyone else can stretch you out like I do?”

You whined. “Please—just fuck me.” she struggled to get out. He shoved in, all at once, deep and brutal.

You screamed.

“God, yes…”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

He fucked you against the door, one hand gripping your ass, the other choking the base of your throat—just pressure, just enough to make you moan louder. His pace was relentless, his cock slamming into the softest part of you over and over.

“You gonna go flirt with someone else after this?” he snarled.

“No,fuck—no—!”

“This pussy’s mine,” he growled. “Say it again.” His grip on your throat tightens, his red eyes staring back at yours.

“Yours Katsuki, I’m yours—!” You came with a cry, your walls squeezing around him tight. He fucked you through it, teeth gritted, then shoved in deep one last time, groaning against your throat as he spilled inside you, hot, thick, claiming.

He stayed there. Breathing heavy. Cock still buried in you. And when he finally pulls out, your mixed fluids running down your inner thighs.

He grabbed your chin, made you look at him.

“You’re not just some fuck to me.”

“Then stop acting like you don’t care.” she mutters low.

He leaned in. Foreheads touching.

“I care too fuckin’ much.”

[raqqtsx0]

Pretend. Katsuki Bakugo

One shot, 1.5k ,2k words.

AN:How do i get more people to see my fics?😅💔

“You want me to be your what?” you ask, blinking. Bakugo scowls at the floor like you personally insulted his bloodline. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, jaw tense.

“I said—pretend girlfriend. Just for this weekend. While my mom’s in town.”

You stare. “You want me to fake date you?” A snicker leaves her mouth. He shrugs, not meeting your eyes. “She won’t get off my ass about ‘being alone forever’ and ‘being to fucking mean for anyone’ If I show up without someone, she’ll try to set me up with some random girl from her gym class or some shit.”

“And I’m your solution?”

“You’re not ugly,” he snaps. “And we hang out. It’s believable.”

You blink slowly. “Did Bakugo just compliment ME?!”

“Shut up,” he growls, ears turning red.

It starts simple.

He picks you up wearing a black button-down and jeans, hair styled just enough to look like he didn’t try (he definitely did). You sit beside him in the train, your thighs brushing. You expect him to pull away.

He doesn’t. “You nervous?” you tease, nudging him.

“Tch. The only thing I’m worried about is you blowing our cover.”

You scoff. “Oh please. I’m the best fake girlfriend you’ll ever have.”

He mutters something like “Tch whatever.” and looks out the window.

Mitsuki Bakugo opens the door with a hand on her hip, blonde hair up in a messy bun, apron smudged with flour and what might be chili oil. She squints at you before even saying hi.

“So you’re the one he brought?” she says, sharp eyes raking you up and down — not unkind, but definitely assessing. “You got better taste than I thought, Katsuki.”

Bakugo groans. “Ma, can we not do this the second we walk in?”

You offer a polite smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bakugo.”

She waves it off. “Call me Mitsuki. ‘Mrs. Bakugo’ makes me sound like I’m in a damn retirement home.” he turns around and yells toward the kitchen, “Masaru! The kid actually brought someone this time!”

A gentle voice answers from the living room, “That’s great, sweetheart!”

You glance at Bakugo. He’s already scowling like he regrets everything.

You sure can see where bakugo gets his attitude and looks from.

⸻

The table is small but warm — worn wood, wood chairs, a pot of spicy curry in the center. Mitsuki moves fast, refilling glasses, barking orders like it’s a battlefield. “You gonna serve your girlfriend or just sit there like a lump, Katsuki?” she snaps, pointing at the rice bowl.

“Chill the hell out, woman, I got it,” he mutters, grabbing the ladle and dishing food onto your plate.

You try not to laugh at the dynamic. “You two always like this?”

Mitsuki snorts. “Oh, this is tame. Ask him what he did to my oven in junior high.”

Bakugo slams his chopsticks down. “That was one damn time! Already fucking apologized.” he mutters low.

“You nearly blew the damn wall off!” she barks, and then turns to you sweetly. “Anyway. How long have you two been together You and Bakugo exchange a glance. The plan was vague. He looks at you like, well?

You fake a soft smile and lean in slightly. “About two months.”

Mitsuki raises an eyebrow. “And how the hell did that happen?” You’re about to answer, but Katsuki speaks first.

“She’s not annoying,” he mutters. “That’s how.” Your brows lift, but you go with it.

“He walked me home after training. We talked. It just… worked.”

Mitsuki eyes him suspiciously, then turns to you. “So what’s your quirk?”

You explain, and she nods along. “Smart. Versatile. Better than this hothead’s walking bomb act.”

Katsuki huffs. “Tch. My quirk’s top-tier, and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mister Number-Two-Ranked-Teenager-In-That-Damn-Magazine,” she mocks. “Big deal. Still can’t do your laundry right.” You almost choke on your water. Bakugo slams his cup down, red creeping up his neck.

“You really gotta do this in front of her?”

Mitsuki shrugs. “If she can’t handle a little teasing, she shouldn’t date a Bakugo.”

She narrows her eyes at you.

“You got guts, though. I like that.”

you grin. “Thanks. I like him. Even when he’s a grump.”

Bakugo mutters, “I’m right here.”

⸻

Later, while she’s clearing the table and bickering with her husband about how he loads the dishwasher wrong, Katsuki leans closer.

“You’re way too good at this,” he mumbles. You raise an eyebrow. “What, fake dating?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low, almost… tense. “Makes it feel real.”

You open your mouth to answer — but Mitsuki interrupts. “Oi, lovebirds! You staying for dessert or sneaking off to do god-knows-what?”

Bakugo yells back, “We’re not doing anything, you nosy hag!”

she cackles like it’s the best joke she’s heard in years.

You glance at Bakugo. He’s red-faced, glaring at the floor, but his hand brushes yours under the table. Just briefly. You don’t say anything about it. But you feel it.

It’s late. You’re walking through quiet city streets. He hasn’t said a word since dinner. “You okay?” you ask.

He grunts. “You’re a pain in the ass.” You bump your shoulder into his. “You liked it.” He stops walking. You turn and he’s staring at you.

Hard.

“What?” you ask, half-laughing. “Do I have something on my face?” His jaw clenches. His eyes drop to your mouth.

“No,” he says. “Just thinking how easy you made that look. Like it was real.” The air gets tight. Your stomach flips.

“It’s supposed to look real,” you say, quietly. “That was the deal.”

“I know,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t feel like it.” Your breath catches.

He looks away first. “Never mind.” You both say nothing the entire way back. But when you reach your hallway, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. You look down at where he’s touching you like it’s fragile. It’s the softest he’s ever touched you.

“I’m not gonna ask you to keep pretending,” he says, voice low, rough. “But… if any of that felt real to you too…”

You step closer. “It did.” He lets out a shaky breath like he’s been holding it in for weeks.

The he grabs your face and kisses you. It’s not gentle. It’s months of tension, every sarcastic comment, every brush of fingers and late-night walk, every time he looked at you and thought fuck, I like her too much.When he pulls away, he mutters against your lips:

“Then let’s stop pretending.”

[raqqtsx0]

Manipulator boyfriend Izuku Midoriya

AN:(first fanfic sorry if it’s bad.. Send requests or tips🙏🏽!!)

|| TW: first fic, end is rushed and lowk bad💔.||

Izuku Midoriya wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was the sweet one. The shy one. The “all-smiles-and-notebooks” boy who blushed when you touched his hand during combat drills. But somewhere in the cute rambling, blushing mess he changed. You just didn’t realize how fucked up things had gotten… until it was too late.

⸻

It started small.

“Hey, Y/N… do you really think Kaminari’s someone you should be trusting with your secrets?” You laughed, thought he was joking. But he wasn’t smiling. “He’s flaky. Talks too much. You could get hurt.” That’s what Izuku always said — you could get hurt. And the way he said it made you feel stupid for not seeing the “danger” he saw. But now? You’re sitting alone in your dorm room, staring at a message from Ochako.

Ochako: “He knew I talked to you? I didn’t tell him anything. I swear, Y/N.” And that’s what chills you. You never told him about the conversation. So how the hell did he know?

Later that night the knock on your door is too soft to be friendly. You don’t answer. Of course, that doesn’t matter.

Click.

He lets himself in. “Hey,” Izuku says like nothing’s wrong, a cup of tea in one hand and his eyes already scanning your face. “I thought we could talk. You’ve been… off.” You take a breath. “Izuku. I need space.”

He laughs. Just once. Low and sharp. “Space,” he repeats, stepping closer. “Right. Is that what you told Bakugo too? Or did you give him something extra with it?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t see the way he looks at you?” he snaps, his voice rising. “You think I’m fucking stupid?”

“No. I think you’re losing your mind.” Wrong move. His entire body goes still…

“So.. That’s how it is Y/N i’m your crazy jealous boyfriend again? Yeah just call me crazy fucking Deku like everyone else!” His voice cracks. (How is bro crying on command?) He sets the tea down on your desk with a clink.

“I thought you were different… But I guess not.”

Your breath catches. “That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.”He’s right in front of you now, hands on either side of your chair. Trapping you in.

“You liked it when I got jealous. When I told Mineta id use one for all on him for staring at you. When I told Todoroki to stay in his lane. You liked knowing I’d fight anyone who even looked at you wrong.”

His eyes are on fire, green and blazing, and you realize with a sudden pulse of fear that he’s not letting you go.

“You think that’s love?” you whisper, shaking.

“No,” he says. “I think it’s control.” He smiles, but there’s nothing sweet in it.

…

AN: I take requests 🥹.