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“You Coming or What?”

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Word Count: 815

You were halfway through folding laundry in your living room when three quick, aggressive knocks slammed into your front door like they were trying to pick a fight.

You blinked at it. “...What the hell?”

When you opened the door, Katsuki Bakugou stood there, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a second motorcycle helmet.

His usual scowl was in place, but his eyes—sharp and focused—were locked directly on you. His black riding jacket was already zipped up halfway, his ash-blonde hair slightly windblown.

“Get your shoes,” he said, holding out the spare helmet like it was obvious. “We’re goin’ for a ride.”

You stared at him.

Then down at the helmet.

Then back at him.

“You just show up at my place without a text or a call and demand I jump on a bike with you?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Didn’t think I needed to make a damn appointment.”

You folded your arms across your chest, trying not to let the way he looked in that jacket—or the way your name sounded in his voice—get to you. “What if I was busy?”

“You were folding socks. I saw through the window.”

“Excuse me for trying to have a productive Sunday.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t budge. Just held the helmet out again, this time with a little more emphasis.

“You said you liked bikes. Said you’d never been on one,” he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. “So I’m fixing that. You coming or not?”

Your heart did a quiet somersault.

Bakugou wasn’t one for soft declarations or planned-out dates. When he did something, it was direct, no room for hesitation. So if he was standing here now, helmet in hand, it meant he’d been thinking about this. About you.

“...You brought a spare helmet,” you said softly, taking it from him.

“‘Course I did,” he grunted. “Ain’t gonna let you ride with me without it.”

You smiled a little. “Aw, you do care.”

He gave you a glare, but it didn’t quite land the way it used to. “Tch. Don’t start.”

Ten minutes later, you were holding onto Bakugou’s back, your arms wrapped tight around his torso as the bike rumbled beneath you.

You could feel the heat of him even through his jacket—solid, warm; the scent of his cologne and smoke lingering as he revved the engine and tore down the road.

City lights streaked past you like fireflies.

You’d never felt safer.

Bakugou didn’t say much during the ride. He didn’t need to. The way his gloved hand reached back once to squeeze your thigh—checking if you were okay, if you were still with him—spoke volumes.

He drove until the city faded behind you, until all that was left was the quiet stretch of coastal road and the sound of waves crashing nearby.

When he finally pulled off into a secluded overlook, the sky above was streaked with deep oranges and purples—sunset in full bloom.

You climbed off, pulling off your helmet with a breathless laugh. “That was—okay, yeah, that was amazing.”

“Told you.” He smirked, hanging his own helmet on the handlebar before turning to lean against the bike. “You gripped me like you were gonna fly off.”

“I thought I was!” you shot back playfully, walking toward him. “That thing moves like hell.”

He snorted. “You’ll get used to it.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The ocean breeze was soft, the light turning his hair gold at the edges. He was watching you carefully now—quiet, unreadable.

You nudged his side. “Why today, Bakugou?”

He looked away for a second, then shrugged, jaw tight. “Just felt like it.”

Your brow rose. “Right. And you just happened to bring a spare helmet you’ve probably had sitting around for a while?”

He gave you a dry look. “You gonna keep talkin’ or you gonna thank me properly?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Dumbass,” he muttered, voice dropping to something softer. “I wanted to spend time with you. Thought this was a good way to do it. You said you liked when I let you in on stuff I don't show everyone else.”

Something shifted in his expression then—open vulnerability trying hard to disguise itself as irritation.

Your heart twisted.

You stepped closer, until the toes of your shoes bumped his boots. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not being sweet.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t sweet. Just not a shitty boyfriend.”

You blinked again. “Wait… boyfriend?”

Bakugou froze.

Shit.

But before he could try to backtrack, you leaned in, arms looping around his neck. “Good. Because I didn’t wanna be the only one thinking that’s where we were heading.”

His red eyes widened just slightly, the lines of tension easing in his shoulders as he looked at you.

“...Yeah?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Then you kissed him.

And this time, he didn’t need to say anything at all.

__

thank you @invisiboom12 for the idea 😉

Masterlist

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"When It Rains"

Just a boy trying his best. A man struggling to keep up.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader Inspired by: Rain - Sleep Token

Word Count: 745

When it rains, it pours...

The dorm room is quiet.

Too quiet for Katsuki Bakugou’s liking.

He sits on the edge of your bed, drenched from the sudden downpour he hadn’t bothered to shield himself from, still in half of his hero gear. His hands are on his thighs, clenched tight, the water from his hair dripping onto the floor in a steady rhythm. He hasn’t said a word since you opened the door to him.

You don’t ask why he’s here. You just know.

Because you’ve seen this version of him before—the one who doesn’t rage and spit fire, but folds in on himself, weathering storms in silence. And tonight, he came to you to weather it together.

“I messed up,” he finally mutters, voice low, strained.

You don’t answer right away. You walk to him slowly, carefully, like approaching something wounded and feral.

“You didn’t,” you whisper, kneeling in front of him, hands brushing over his soaked knees. “You did everything you could.”

He doesn't move. His eyes are glassy, locked on a point far beyond the wall. Whatever happened on that patrol—it got under his skin. And Bakugou never lets things under his skin unless it matters.

You press your forehead against his knee. “You don’t have to speak. Not until you’re ready.”

For a moment, you feel his body tremble.

And then, a whisper, broken and soft: “Why does it feel like no matter how hard I try, I still end up hurting people?”

You lift your head. His voice doesn’t crack, but you can hear the echo of it, like thunder waiting in the distance.

“You don’t mean to,” you say gently.

“But I do.” His eyes meet yours, and the storm in them steals your breath. “Even when I try to protect—especially then.”

“I know.” You touch his face, fingers cool against his fevered skin. “And I still choose you.”

Something in him shatters.

He surges forward, pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. The wet chill of his clothes seeps into you, but you don’t care. His arms tighten, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through them if he doesn’t hold you hard enough.

“I’m so fucking tired,” he whispers, almost inaudible.

You hold him like a prayer. “Then rest. With me. Just for tonight.”

—I feel it burn, inside of my chest, most of the time.

You guide him gently onto the bed, coaxing him to lay down. He’s rigid at first, like he doesn’t know how to allow comfort, but when your hand finds his hair and strokes through it, he exhales shakily.

The room fills with nothing but your breathing, and the soft rhythm of rain outside your window.

Katsuki’s fingers find yours under the sheets, grasping like a lifeline. “You shouldn’t love someone like me.”

You blink at him, surprised by the rawness of his voice.

“But I do,” you murmur. “And I always will. Even when you’re angry. Even when you're quiet. Even when you think you're too much, or not enough. I love every part of you, Katsuki.”

His jaw tenses, but his grip only tightens.

“Even the broken parts?” he asks, almost a plea.

“Especially those,” you say. “Because I know how hard you fight every day to keep going. And because I know, deep down, how deeply you feel everything, even when you try not to.”

There’s a pause.

Then, his forehead presses against yours, eyes closed. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t have to do anything. You just had to be you.”

—When it rains, I’ll try, to drown it out...

You fall asleep tangled together—your fingers in his hair, his arms wrapped around your waist like a fortress. The storm outside fades slowly into mist, but the one inside him still lingers.

And yet, it’s quieter.

Because for the first time in a long time, Bakugou Katsuki lets himself be held. Lets himself be seen. Not as a Pro Hero, not as the strongest in the room—but as a boy who’s tired. A boy who’s trying.

And you—steady and soft and stubborn—you choose him still.

Every night he comes to you like this, he worries you’ll finally see it: the storm inside him. The damage. The rage. The fear.

But every time he looks at you, you meet him with the same answer:

“I’ll be here. Let it rain.”

And so he does.

Masterlist

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"Saying “ew” when they try to kiss you."

MHA Boys react to you saying “ew” when they try to kiss you.

Featuring: K. Bakugou, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, H. Sero, I. Midoriya, and S. Todoroki.

______________________________________________________________

💥 Katsuki Bakugou

He freezes mid-kiss like you physically slapped him with a frying pan.

“…Excuse me?” His whole face twists in disbelief. “The hell did you just say?”

You’re giggling, but he looks genuinely offended—eyes narrowed, mouth still half-puckered. “You think I’m disgusting? You don’t wanna kiss me?” He scoffs, backing up a little. “Tch. Fine. No more for you, then.”

But two minutes later he’s yanking you back by the waist and muttering, “Shut up and let me kiss you, dumbass.”

______________________________________________________________

💪 Eijiro Kirishima

He gasps like you just kicked his puppy.

“Wait—seriously?! Did I eat garlic or something?! I swear I brushed my teeth this morning—hold on—”

He actually tries to sniff his own breath.

You start laughing and he pauses, realization dawning.

“Heyyy—you’re messing with me!” Now he's pouting, but in the softest, most dramatic way. “That wasn’t manly of you, babe. My pride… shattered.” (You end up kissing him first.)

______________________________________________________________

⚡ Denki Kaminari

He pulls back with the most offended little gasp.

“Ew?! EW? Babe, I’ve literally been practicing my technique in the mirror for you.”

He immediately launches into a whole dramatic bit:

“I’m just a boy… standing in front of his s/o… getting emotionally annihilated.”

You’re crying with laughter, and he pouts extra hard. “That’s it. I’m revoking all smooching privileges.”

Spoiler: he tries to kiss you again like 40 seconds later.

______________________________________________________________

🖤 Hanta Sero

He pulls back immediately, eyes wide, like you just committed a personal crime.

“…Ew?”

He stares at you, utterly betrayed. “You just ew’d the best kisser in Class 1-A?”

Puts a hand to his chest, stumbling back a step like you hit him with a devastating quirk attack.

He starts pacing dramatically, talking to no one in particular.

You’re wheezing with laughter, and he stops mid-rant to squint at you.

“…You’re joking, huh.”

You nod through your giggles and he smirks, immediately pulling you towards him.

“That’s what I thought. C’mere and take it back with your mouth.”

And then proceeds to kiss you so good you forget your own name.

______________________________________________________________

🥦Izuku Midoriya

He jerks back so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

“OH MY GOD—was that too soon? Did I make you uncomfortable?! I-I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—!”

You’re trying to calm him down between giggles, but he’s going full anxious-flustered spiral. “I knew I should’ve checked if the moment was right—I—!”

Then you tell him you were just messing with him, and he deflates.

“Oh.”

Small pause.

“That’s... kind of mean,” he mumbles with the cutest pout. Still blushes ferociously when you kiss him for real.

______________________________________________________________

🔥❄️ Shoto Todoroki

He pulls back, expression completely blank.

“…Ew?”

Looks deeply confused.

“Did I do something wrong? Was it the angle?”

He starts analyzing the geometry of the kiss in his head, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Should I have leaned in slower? Maybe my lips were cold—”

You crack up and finally tell him you’re teasing, and he just goes:

“…Oh.”

Quiet pause.

“I still want the kiss.”

Masterlist

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"Come Home"

Time to give another character some love~ First Bakugo x Reader fic and, yes, it's inspired by lyrics!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Inspired by: “Come Home” by Jace June Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Longing

Word Count: 316

You stare at the soft glow of your phone screen for the fifth time tonight.

“Still on patrol. I’ll try to call before I crash.”

You don’t blame him. Not really. Being a Pro Hero means long hours, late nights, and even longer distances when missions call him across the country. But that doesn’t make it easier.

You curl up on the couch, Bakugou’s hoodie wrapped around you like a memory. His scent is still faint in the fabric—burnt caramel, sweat, and something warm you can never quite name but always associate with home. Your home. Your Katsuki.

The music plays low in the background, humming like a ghost in your chest. "I hope you come home soon, ‘cause I miss you in my arms."

You blink fast. Not again. Not tonight.

The door opens.

You don’t believe it at first. Not until the sound of his boots thumping heavily on the entry mat, the click of the lock behind him. Then you’re moving before you can even think—bare feet hitting cold wood, arms wrapping around him before he’s even fully stepped inside.

“Woah,” Bakugou breathes, arms automatically wrapping around you like instinct. “Shit. I was gonna surprise you.”

You bury your face in his neck. “You did.”

He holds you tighter, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair.

“I couldn’t stay out there another fucking day,” he mumbles. “I kept hearing your voice. Saw your face every time I closed my eyes. I needed to be home.”

You pull back just enough to look at him, his eyes so open, so honest, it makes your heart ache. “You’re home now,” you whisper.

Bakugou doesn’t speak right away. He just leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, the words coming low and quiet, like a promise meant only for you:

“I’ll always come home to you.”

___

It's short, I know. I'm a huge Sero simp, but I do have some love for Katsuki. Just never wrote a fic about him before, lol.

Masterlist

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"Conduct Becoming"

It's Tenya's turn to get some love, or in this case, some smut.

Pairing: Tenya Iida x Experienced!Reader Rating: 🔞 Mature / Explicit

Word Count: 1,061

THIS IS NSFW. All characters here are aged/time-skip. You've been warned. Continue reading below.

You could hear him breathing.

Fast. Shallow. Like he was trying to control it and failing.

Tenya stood at the foot of the bed like he was reporting for inspection — shirtless, flushed, and visibly hard in his sweats. His hands were trembling.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” you said softly, sitting on the edge of the mattress in just your underwear. “We’ll take it slow.”

“I—I am not—nervous,” he said, voice slightly higher than usual. “Merely… aware of the gravity of this situation.”

You smiled, beckoning him closer. “Then come here, hero.”

He hesitated — just for a second — and then moved, like muscle memory took over.

When he stood before you, you reached up and brushed your fingers over the waistband of his sweats. He shivered.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured. “You trust me?”

His voice caught. “Yes.”

“Good.” You tugged his sweats down gently, and his cock sprang free — flushed, hard, twitching.

You looked up at him and smiled.

“You’re beautiful.”

His face went bright red.

You guided him onto the bed, straddling his hips, your body warm and soft against his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, voice low.

You took his hands and placed them on your waist. “You can do whatever you want, baby.”

He gripped tighter, breath catching as he looked at you like you were a dream. “You feel�� incredible.”

You rocked your hips, letting your warmth rub against his cock. He whimpered.

“Oh—God—”

You leaned in, kissing his jaw, his throat, your hand wrapping around his shaft and stroking slow.

“Feels good?” you whispered.

“Y-Yes, it’s… I’ve never—this is—” He moaned, head dropping back. “So good. I can’t—think.”

You kissed the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to think, baby. Just feel.”

You guided the head of his cock to your entrance and held it there — not pushing in yet, just letting him feel the heat of you.

“You ready?”

He looked wrecked. “I—Please. Please, I need—”

You sank down onto him.

Deep.

Hot.

Tight.

His eyes rolled back.

You could feel him gripping your hips, trembling beneath you like he was seconds from unraveling.

“Oh—oh God, you’re—you’re squeezing me—”

You moaned in his ear. “That’s what a real pussy feels like, Tenya.”

He whimpered.

You rolled your hips, slow and deep, taking your time — letting him feel every flutter, every clench, every wet grind.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised. “You feel so good inside me, baby.”

“I—fuck—I can’t—”

You rocked harder, your nails dragging down his chest, your voice like syrup. “You gonna cum already, sweetheart? You gonna fill me up your first time?”

“I—YES—please—I want to—need to—I can’t stop—”

“Then give it to me.”

He snapped.

His entire body shuddered beneath you as he came — a loud, broken moan tearing out of him while his cock pulsed inside you. Thick, hot spurts filled you, and his grip on your hips was so tight it bordered on bruising.

You didn’t stop.

Not yet.

You rocked your hips, slow and deep, milking every last drop of him as his head lolled back and his breath caught in his throat.

“Ah—ah—please—” he whimpered.

“Too much?” you asked, leaning in, lips brushing his ear.

“I—” His hips bucked. “I don’t—know—”

“You're still hard,” you murmured. “You didn’t even go soft, baby.”

His cheeks flushed deep crimson. “I—I want to stay inside—please don’t pull away.”

You froze.

Your heart stuttered.

His voice was wrecked. Unsteady. Wild. Like the thought of losing your warmth around his cock terrified him.

“You can stay,” you whispered.

And he moved.

You gasped — because it wasn’t hesitant this time.

Tenya’s hands gripped your waist, and he thrust up into you with a shaky, needy moan. You clenched involuntarily.

“Oh fuck, Tenya—”

“Don’t stop me,” he begged. “Please—please, I need—need to feel—again.”

You rolled your hips in sync with him, your hands on his chest, nails dragging lightly across his flushed skin. “Then fuck me, baby.”

And that was all it took.

He sat up with you in his lap — still buried deep — and started thrusting. Sloppy. Desperate. His hands gripping your ass like he’d die if he couldn’t feel every inch of you against him.

Your breasts bounced with every roll of his hips, and he latched onto your chest like a man starved — licking, sucking, moaning around your nipple as his cock hit so deep it made your vision blur.

“Fuck, Tenya—”

“I can’t stop—you feel—so good—better than I—imagined—”

“You imagined this?” you gasped, raking your fingers through his sweaty hair.

He nodded, face buried in your chest. “I thought about it. When I—touched myself—I thought about you—how you’d look, how you’d sound—”

You clenched around him on instinct. He yelped.

“—I never knew it could feel like this.”

You started grinding down into his thrusts, taking control again, your mouth at his ear.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you purred. “Look at you. Fucking me like you’ve done this a thousand times. Who’s my good boy?”

He whined.

“I am—please—say it again—”

“Good boy.”

He cried out — full-on whimpered, his hands grabbing your waist as he lost his rhythm, trying to rut up into you faster, deeper.

“I’m gonna—again—I can’t hold it—I wanna cum—inside you again—please—please—please—”

“Then give it to me.”

He lost it.

Thrusting fast, deep, uneven, panting into your mouth like a man begging for salvation — and then he came again, his whole body going rigid, your name gasped like a prayer, voice cracking as he buried himself to the hilt and shuddered.

You stayed there.

Both of you trembling, soaked in sweat, the sheets clinging to your backs. His face pressed to your shoulder, arms around your waist, cock still twitching inside your swollen, dripping pussy.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered.

“I—apologize—” he breathed, voice hoarse. “I… did not anticipate… being so—overcome.”

You kissed his temple. “Tenya?”

He looked up at you — dazed, cheeks flushed, hair plastered to his forehead.

“I can’t feel my legs.” You giggled. “That means you did good.”

He swallowed. “May I… hold you? A little longer?”

“You can hold me all night.”

He pulled you against him, your body heavy on his lap, still joined. His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed your shoulder.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

You smiled.

“I know.”

--

End.

Masterlist: Tenya Masterlist: Other Fanfics

[nan-not-found]

"Say Something"

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 609

The dishes were still in the sink.

Maybe that was how it started. Or maybe it was about the laundry. Or maybe it was nothing at all. The point was, you didn’t remember. You never did. Not with Katsuki.

The shouting started like it always did: sharp, sudden, and loud. It was just another Tuesday night and you were two people with too much history and too little peace.

"You could just say what you mean for once!" you snapped, hands clenched at your sides.

Katsuki stood on the other side of the kitchen, jaw locked, eyes blazing. "Don’t turn this into some emotional bullshit! Just say what you’re mad about!"

You laughed, bitter. "I don’t even know anymore. Does it matter? You’ll just yell until I shut up, right? That’s how this goes."

He scoffed, turning away. "Tch. Don’t start acting like some kind of damn victim."

There it was. The final nail in the coffin. You felt your chest cave in, the weight of all the fights and the trying and the years of loving someone who built walls so high even you couldn’t climb them.

"I can’t do this anymore," you said quietly.

Katsuki didn’t turn. "Then don’t."

"I mean it, Katsuki. I’m done."

That made him look. His eyes searched yours, looking for the fight that usually flickered back at him. But you were just... empty.

"What, so you’re gonna walk out because of one stupid argument?"

You shook your head. "No. I’m walking out because you won’t let me in. Because after all this time, I still feel like some stranger in your life. I’ve given you everything. And I’m so damn tired."

Katsuki didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

You took a shaky breath, grabbed your coat from the hook, and stepped toward the door.

"Fine," he muttered. "Go, then. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone."

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Closed your eyes. Then turned it.

The second the door creaked open, the silence behind you cracked.

"Wait."

You turned your head slightly, not enough to face him.

His voice wasn’t angry anymore. It wasn’t anything you recognized.

"Don’t go."

You turned fully now. And for the first time in years, Katsuki Bakugou looked... terrified.

"I didn’t mean that shit," he said, voice breaking. "I just... I don’t know how to do this."

You stared at him, throat tight. "Do what?"

"This. You. Us. Saying shit. Feeling shit. I don’t know how to not screw it up. But I don’t want you to go."

He stepped forward, hands twitching at his sides. "You say I keep you out and maybe that’s true. But it’s not because I don’t care. It’s 'cause I do. Too damn much."

You were crying now, silent tears down your cheeks.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?"

"Because I’m scared," he admitted. "Because the second I let you all the way in, you could wreck me. And I know I wouldn’t survive that. But I’m already wrecked, aren’t I? You’re walking out and I... I can’t let you."

You hesitated. "You can’t just say this now because you’re losing me."

"I know. But I’m saying it anyway. I should’ve said it every damn day. You matter to me more than anything. I love you, damn it. I’ve loved you and I’ve been too much of a coward to say it."

The coat slipped from your hands.

Katsuki crossed the space between you like he was afraid you'd vanish. His arms wrapped around you, holding you like a lifeline.

"Don’t go," he whispered against your hair. "I’ll do better. I swear. Just... please stay."

Bakugou Masterlist Fanfic Masterlist

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"Her"

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem!Reader Inspired by: “Her” – JVKE

Word Count: 548

There were things Izuku could explain — Quirks, statistics, probability models, training methods. But there were some things that refused to fit neatly into a notebook or spreadsheet.

Like the way his heart behaved around you.

He’d been trying to write about it one night, scribbling into the corner of his journal. A diagram of your smile. A note about how your laugh affected his equilibrium. He crossed it all out. Too clinical. Too far from the truth.

Because how could he describe the fact that you were always there — not just physically, but everywhere? Every corner of his mind, every moment of peace. Every time he slowed down enough to breathe, there was you. A quiet hum behind every thought.

He never said it, but he thought it a million times.

She's the one I run to.

The first time you held his hand, it wasn’t even romantic. You had reached for him during a training exercise, bloody knuckles and wide eyes, calling his name through smoke. And when your fingers found his, when your grip tightened — it grounded him. Just like you always did.

“Izuku,” you whisper now, voice warm with sleep. He turns to look at you, tucked into the sheets of his dorm bed, legs tangled with his under the blanket. Your hand rests over his chest where his heart’s beating a little too fast for no reason at all.

“Yeah?”

You blink slowly, smiling. “You were staring again.”

“Sorry,” he breathes, cheeks pink. “I just… I don’t really believe it sometimes. That I get to have this. You.”

You let out a soft laugh, dragging your hand up to cup his jaw. “You do. Always.”

He leans in, kissing your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose. Gentle. Reverent. Like you’re fragile and sacred and everything good about this world.

“You make everything make sense,” he murmurs. “When I’m with you, I feel like I’m not just running forward all the time. I can… stop. Breathe. Feel.”

You tuck yourself closer into his side, your fingers sliding into his. “You don’t have to earn love, Izuku. You just have to let yourself be loved.”

That breaks something soft and trembling inside him. Because even though he knows he's loved — by All Might, by his mom, by his friends — the way you love him is different. Not because of what he’s done. Not because of who he’s trying to be. Just… him.

No cape. No title. No saving the world.

Just a boy. With messy hair and too many notebooks and a heart too big for his own good. And you love him anyway. Maybe because of it.

He kisses you again, this time on the lips. It’s unhurried. Tender. Like he’s making a promise he’ll never break.

“Her,” he’d written in the margin of a page that morning. Just the word. Underlined three times.

You.

You’re the one he sees when he closes his eyes. The one his soul reaches for on its own. The one he wants to tell everything to. The one he’d choose in every universe.

And even if he never found the words to say it quite right, he knew one thing for certain.

He was hers.

And he always would be.

Masterlist

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"Perfectly Imperfect"

Tenya Iida x Reader

Word Count: 880

It started with a checklist.

Tenya had shown up at your door that morning in a pressed navy button-up and a smile so wide it nearly hid the nervous twitch in his brows. In one hand, he held a clipboard. In the other—a bouquet of color-coded flowers (blue, yellow, and red, because “they represent balance, intellect, and passion respectively”).

“I have our entire day scheduled,” he beamed, presenting the clipboard to you like it was a map to buried treasure. “I left room for walking breaks and potential snack detours. I also calculated time for conversation—both casual and meaningful!”

You stared at him, smirking. “You calculated time for talking?”

“W-well,” he stammered, pushing his glasses up, “I didn’t limit it! I merely ensured it fit into the schedule naturally!”

You kissed his cheek before he could spiral.

“Let’s go, schedule-boy. Show me what you’ve got planned.”

--

10:00 AM — Breakfast

The café looked cozy, bright, and—shockingly—uncrowded. Tenya practically sighed in relief as he pulled out your chair like the gentleman he was.

“According to the reviews,” he began, tapping the clipboard, “their avocado toast is rated 4.7 stars, and the orange juice is—”

CRASH.

Your waiter slipped right as he reached the table, sending your juice and his clipboard flying.

Silence.

Tenya froze, staring at the puddle of orange juice like it had personally insulted his entire family. His fingers twitched, reaching toward the soaked clipboard like he could salvage the schedule with sheer willpower.

“I—I calculated for setbacks,” he muttered, eyes wide. “I accounted for ten whole minutes of unforeseen interruption—”

You reached across the table and gently took his hand.

“Babe. It’s just juice.”

He blinked.

You smiled. “We’ve still got each other. And soggy toast.”

That pulled a huff of a laugh from him.

--

12:00 PM — Museum Stroll

It should’ve been peaceful. Quiet. Intellectual.

But the fire alarm had other plans.

You had just entered the West Wing when the blaring siren kicked off, sending flocks of tourists spilling into the lobby in a frenzy. A child tripped over a museum brochure and Tenya instinctively swept them up into his arms like a true hero.

Once outside, you both watched the fire trucks roll in.

“No fire,” a staff member muttered. “Just the system shorting again. Happens twice a week.”

Tenya exhaled slowly. “That… was not part of the plan.”

You bumped your shoulder against his.

“But you did save a child and stop them from face-planting into a marble sculpture. That was very gallant.”

Tenya gave a half-smile. “I am gallant, aren’t I?”

“The gallantest.”

--

2:00 PM — Picnic in the Park

This was the moment Tenya had been looking forward to. He had packed your favorite sandwiches, found a shady tree near a koi pond, and even remembered your favorite juice boxes. (Yes, juice boxes. He had a whole mini-fridge of them.)

You spread the blanket, sat down together, and—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzzbuzzbuzzbuzz—

A swarm of bees had discovered your sandwiches. And they were not interested in sharing.

Tenya stood rigid, holding the juice box like a shield. “Retreat strategy!”

You squealed, grabbing the sandwiches, and bolted. He followed with stiff, heroic urgency, yelling something about “not letting the insects claim victory.”

You collapsed onto a different bench, breathless from laughter, sandwiches still intact.

Tenya looked… devastated.

“I failed to secure the area.”

“You fought off an entire bee militia,” you said, poking his arm. “I’d say that’s a success.”

He didn’t smile this time.

--

4:00 PM — Aquarium

The aquarium was your safe zone. Or it would have been, if Tenya hadn’t accidentally taken you to the petting tide pool exhibit during feeding hour.

A child screamed. A crab snapped at a dad. Someone spilled an entire cup of shrimp water near your feet.

You and Tenya stood in silence, the scent of brine and chaos in the air.

Tenya sighed, then slumped onto the nearest bench with the saddest flop imaginable. His glasses fogged.

“This entire day was supposed to be a symbol of how deeply I care for you. Instead, it’s become a slapstick routine of errors. A tragic farce. A—”

You took a seat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder.

“Tenya?”

“…Yes?”

“I’ve had the best day ever.”

He blinked. “But—But it didn’t go according to plan!”

You giggled softly. “Exactly. You made a perfect plan… and when it didn’t go perfectly, you were still by my side. You saved a kid, rescued our sandwiches, made me laugh about bees, and you never once gave up on trying to make me smile.”

He looked at you, stunned. “But… I ruined the picnic.”

“You brought the picnic. You ran with me. You made today ours.”

His chest rose and fell, slower now. The tight line of his lips softened.

“…You really think that?”

You reached up and kissed his cheek, right beside his glasses.

“I know that. You're the best boyfriend ever—even when the juice is spilled and the bees are angry.”

His ears turned bright red.

“…Thank you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I suppose… I did succeed in one thing.”

You smiled. “What’s that?”

He turned, eyes soft behind his lenses.

“I got to spend the entire day with you.”

End

--

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

"That Pro Hero is hot."

MHA Boys react to you saying "That Pro Hero is hot."

List Includes: K. Bakugou, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, and H. Sero

______________________________________________________________

💥 Katsuki Bakugou

"EXCUSE ME?"

This man goes feral. "The fuck you mean ‘they're hot’? You got eyes for someone else now?! You wanna go drool over their shitty face, be my guest!”

He’s 100% irrational, pacing around like a storm cloud. Eventually glares at you and growls, “What’s so damn special about ‘em, huh?! Bet I could smoke ‘em in a fight and look better doin’ it.”

He definitely trains harder that night, aggressively.

______________________________________________________________

💪 Eijiro Kirishima

“Oh really?” He laughs, but it’s slightly nervous. “Yeah, I mean, they’re pretty good-looking���”

You can see him mentally checking himself. He doesn’t want to be insecure, but he cares. “...But do you think I’m hot, too?” he asks with a grin, but there’s a flicker of hope behind it.

Tell him yes and he melts. Absolutely preens. Also lowkey stalks the pro hero’s feed later and goes, “Huh. Guess I could try that hairstyle…

______________________________________________________________

⚡ Denki Kaminari

"OH MY GOD, SAME??"

Zero shame. Zero insecurity. He’s right there with you. “They’ve got that whole ‘cool and competent’ vibe, huh? Bet their fanservice is off the charts.”

He pauses, leans in. “...But I’m still your favorite, right? C’mon, babe. I may not be ‘hot’ but I’m electrifying.”

You’re stuck with bad pickup lines for the rest of the week.

______________________________________________________________

🖤 Hanta Sero

Raises an eyebrow. “Damn, you didn’t even hesitate.”

He laughs it off but he's definitely side-eyeing the pro hero next time they appear. “Okay, but like... do they bring you snacks at 2 a.m.? Do they know your boba order by heart?”

Later that night: “So... if I started wearing tighter pants, would that help?” 😏

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.” 💀💔🔥

The MHA boys reacting to “I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

Includes: K. Bakugou, I. Midoriya, S. Todoroki, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, and H. Sero.

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💥 Katsuki Bakugou

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

"...The hell are you accusing me of in your sleep?!"

He immediately stiffens, jaw clenching. "Tch. What kinda dumbass dream logic is that?!" But he is kinda nervous now. He's pacing. "I would never cheat on you, what the fuck -"

Then he pauses, eyes narrowing. "...Was it that extra from Class B? Tell me who it was."

He's already trying to fight your dream. Not because he thinks he did something wrong, but because he's mad anyone (even imaginary) would think he'd risk losing you.

He stays mad all day until you soothe his ego with cuddles.

"Next time, just dream of me spoilin' you, dumbass."

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🥦Izuku Midoriya

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

"Wha- Me?! I-I would never! I promise!"

Panics immediatley.

This man is spiraling.

"Did I do something wrong? Were you upset with me before bed?"

He's pulling out a journal to log your dream like it's part of his training notes.

Apologizes even though he didn't do anything. He's lowkey on edge the rest of the day, doubling down on sweet gestures and affection.

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🔥❄️ Shoto Todoroki

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

He blinks at you. Once. Twice. Very slowly.

"...Was it with someone I know?"

Not because he's actually guilty - he's just genuinely trying to understand the logic of dream cheating. When you stare him down, arms crossed, he tilts his head slightly like you're a puzzle he's trying to solve.

"I see. You're upset."

And then, very softly: "I would never do that to you."

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💪 Eijiro Kirishima

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

"WHAAAT - BABE, NO. My loyalty is unbreakable!"

He says this like it's a title. Man is offended and heartbroken that your subconscious would even suggest such a betrayal. He's grabbing at your hands, putting them on his chest like:

"Do you feel that? That's a heart that only beats for you!"

He'll immediately go into affirmation overdrive. "I love you. You're beautiful. No dream-world floozy could ever compare. Want me to punch dream me? I'll do it. For us."

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⚡️ Denki Kaminari

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

"Wait, hold up - were they hot?"

Immediately unhinged.

He thinks it's funny at first and makes it worse before realizing you're actually upset. Then he's like:

"Babe, nooo - I would never cheat! I'm like, emotionally codepedent on you."

Denki will send you memes all day about dream-boyfriend cheating scandals. But he also posts a thirst trap selfie with a caption like:

"Would never cheat. I know what I've got at home 😌💛"

You forgive him instantly. Probably while sitting in his lap as he makes puppy eyes at you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

🖤 Hanta Sero

“I had a dream you cheated on me—explain yourself.”

"That's gotta be the most disrespectful dream I've ever heard."

He's leaning against the wall like he's been shot. Hand over his heart.

"And after all we've been through? The late-night calls? The forehead kisses?"

Gets all dramatic on purpose. Then gives you a smug grin.

"Dream me is clearly an idiot. Real me knows he's the luckiest man alive."

Still, he's cuddly the whole day, throwing in casual flirty lines like "Bet dream me couldn't make you laugh like this" or "Wanna remind yourself I'm real?" and, well... now you're the one flustered.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

Calling Them "Pretty Boy" - MHA Boys React

MHA boys react when you call them “pretty boy” in front of other people.

List Includes - K. Bakugou, I. Midoriya, S. Todoroki, T. Iida, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, and H. Sero

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💥 Katsuki Bakugou

You call him "pretty boy" in front of the whole squad - Kirishima, Mina, Denki, Sero - everyone.

He freezes. Blinks. Turns red in a very specific "trying not to explode" kind of way.

"THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

Looks like he's gonna blow, but the way his ears go red tells the truth: :he's not mad. He's flustered.

He'll spend the rest of the day barking things like:

"Tch. Damn right I'm pretty. The prettiest damn boy you'll ever get!"

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🥦Izuku Midoriya

You drop a sweet little "pretty boy" while he's mid-ramble at the dorms. Everyone hears it. His soul heaves his body.

"M-Me?? Pretty?? B-Boy???"

Face on fire. He doesn't know what to do with his hands. Tries to process it with logic:

"I mean - I - uh - thank you?!"

Ten minutes later, he's still blushing and smiling to himself like a dork.

Says: "They...called me pretty..."

Over and over.

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🔥❄️ Shoto Todoroki

You say it casually in front of Iida and Izuku while passing him a drink.

"Here you go, pretty boy."

He blinks.

"That's new."

Sips his drink like nothing happened.

"Should I call you pretty, too?"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

🦵 Tenya Iida

You say it in front of the entire class. "Appreciate the help, pretty boy!"

He. Stops. Functioning.

"P-Pretty -! Excuse me?!"

Frantically adjusts his glasses, waving his arms like a traffic cop. He tries to scold you but can't stop blushing.

"I am not -! That is -! Highly inappropriate!"

But the moment no one's looking? He's lowkey grinning to himself and sits so straight the rest of the day. Like a proper pretty boy should.

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💪 Eijiro Kirishima

You say it in front of the Bakusquad and he BEAMS.

"Heh - aw, babe, really?!"

Absolutely thrives off it. Flexes a little.

"Yo, did you guys hear that? I'm their pretty boy!"

Winks at you. Throws his arm around your shoulder. Now you've done it - he's not gonna let it go. "Pretty boy privileges" are in effect for the next 48 hours.

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⚡ Denki Kaminari

You say it while passing by, totally offhanded. "Looking good, pretty boy."

He freezes. Turns slow-mo to you.

"Wait...hold up. You just call me pretty boy?"

He absolutely milks it. Instantly posts on his socials. Probably changes his bio to "certified pretty boy".

"Can I make it my contact name in your phone??"

It becomes a thing and he'll pester you daily to say it again.

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🖤 Hanta Sero

You casually drop it during lunch with the squad.

"Hey, pretty boy - pass the sauce."

He doesn't even flinch. Grinds wide.

"Anything for you, beautiful."

Plays it so smooth - until you look away and he hides his face behind his hand, whispering a soft "holy shit" to himself.

He's not immune. He's just slick about it.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

"Stand By You"

It's about time to show our class rep some love.

Pairing: Tenya Iida x Reader Inspired By: "Standy by You" - Rachel Platten

Word Count: 721

The night air was crisp, and the stars above twinkled with the kind of indifference that felt unfair. You sat on a bench just outside the U.A. dorms, elbows on your knees, head bowed low. The day had been long—physically exhausting, emotionally taxing, and mentally draining. Nothing went right in training, your grades were slipping, and worst of all, you felt like you were just… dragging behind everyone else.

You didn’t hear the footsteps at first—only the soft rustle of cloth and the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat.

“I noticed you weren’t at dinner,” said a voice. Calm. Familiar.

You looked up to find Tenya Iida, his glasses glinting faintly under the moonlight, concern etched across his features. He was still in uniform, tie loosened slightly, hair a little mussed from running his hand through it—something you’d come to recognize as his tell when he was worried.

“I wasn’t hungry,” you replied, shrugging and immediately looking away.

Iida didn’t speak right away. Instead, he sat beside you, not too close, but close enough that his presence was grounding. You expected him to give you a lecture—he was class rep, after all. Instead, he sat in silence, waiting. You didn’t even realize how much you wanted someone to wait for you to speak, to give you the space to figure out what the hell you were feeling.

“I feel like I’m failing,” you whispered eventually, voice breaking.

There was a pause. “Academically or emotionally?”

You huffed a broken laugh. “Both.”

Iida turned toward you, expression softening. “You’re not failing. You’re struggling, yes—but that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Everyone has periods of self-doubt. Even All Might.”

You shook your head. “Iida, you don’t get it. You’re always so composed, so… perfect. You lead, you excel, you know who you are. I’m just trying to keep up. I can’t even—”

“I’m not perfect.” His voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. You blinked.

“I try to do the right thing, but I’ve made terrible choices too,” he continued. “I’ve let anger cloud my judgment. I’ve pushed people away when I thought I had to face things alone. But do you know what I’ve learned from all of that?”

You shook your head.

He inhaled, steady and slow. “That you don’t have to go through anything alone. And more than that, you shouldn’t.”

His hand reached out—not forcefully, just open, palm up on the bench between you two.

“I may not be perfect. But I will stand by you, through everything. That’s what being a hero is to me. And more importantly, that’s what loving someone means.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Loving someone?

You turned to look at him, eyes wide, but he didn’t flinch. His voice wavered slightly as he added, “I—I understand if that’s too soon to say, but I care about you deeply. When I see you hurt, I want to bear some of that weight. When you cry, I want to be the one to help you heal. And when the world feels too heavy, I want to carry a piece of it with you.”

His words—so sincere, so painfully Iida—hit you harder than you expected.

“You’re such a dork,” you whispered, tears in your eyes.

“Yes,” he said, lips twitching into a faint smile. “But I am your dork. If you’ll have me.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. Your fingers reached out, weaving into his on the bench. His hand was warm, steady, strong.

“I’d like that,” you murmured. “But… I’m messy. I cry a lot. I doubt myself. I don’t always know how to be strong.”

“I’ll be strong for you when you can’t be,” he said without missing a beat. “And when I falter, I hope you’ll be strong for me too. That’s how this works, doesn’t it?”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, finally letting the tears fall—not out of pain, but out of relief. He didn’t move, didn’t try to fix you or force a smile. He just held your hand and let you be.

“I won’t promise to fix you,” he whispered after a while, “but I can promise to stand by you while you do it yourself.”

The stars above may not have changed, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so small beneath them.

I'm slowly starting to see the appeal in Iida.. Definitely underrated.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

"Oh, I can do this all night." - SPICY!!

Bakusquad guys reacting to you saying: "Oh, I can do this all night."

List Includes - K. Bakugou, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, H. Sero Timeskip! Aged up!!

(Mature readers only — suggestive content, heavy flirting.)

Continue reading below ⤵️

🔥 Katsuki Bakugou

He freezes for a split second — not because he’s flustered, but because his brain instantly runs a full simulation of every possible way you could mean that. His gaze sharpens, grin wicked, like a match being struck. “Hah? You think I can’t keep up?” he growls, voice low, rough. He closes in, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other tracing a slow line down your hip. “Don’t say shit like that unless you’re ready to prove it, princess.” And oh, he means it. He will absolutely turn this into a full-blown challenge. His stamina’s already terrifying—you just unlocked the beast.

────────────────────────────────────────────

💪 Eijiro Kirishima

Kirishima chokes on air for a hot second—did you just— Then his face splits into a toothy grin so wide it hurts to look at. “Whoa... you’re really tryin’ to test me, huh?” He chuckles, and it’s deep, from the chest. He’s already rolling up his sleeves like he’s about to ruin your night in the best way possible. “You better stretch then, baby—’cause I’m not stoppin’ till I see that smile turn into begging.” Affectionate? Always. Gentle? Sure. But if you’re down to go all night? He’s all in. And he’ll make you feel like the only thing that matters in the world is you and his hands.

────────────────────────────────────────────

⚡ Denki Kaminari

Denki short-circuits on the spot. He’s got that wide-eyed, slack-jawed anime boy expression, followed by a slow smirk that climbs like a live wire. “Ay—say that again. Slower.” His voice drops an octave, and his hands suddenly get a little bolder, sliding around your waist. “You tryna short me out, sweetheart? ’Cause that mouth of yours is dangerous.” Then he leans in close—lips brushing your ear—and whispers: “Bet I can make you short-circuit first.” Wanna test how long he can last? He’ll happily fail, but not before you’re trembling and laughing in his lap at how red he is and how badly he wants to impress you.

────────────────────────────────────────────

🍃 Hanta Sero

Sero blinks once. Then grins—slow, cocky, and wickedly smooth. “Ohhh, is that a promise?” He’s got you backed against the wall before you can blink, all teasing hands and husky voice. “I mean, I could tape you to this bed and find out.” You gasp. He winks. “I’m a man of endurance, babe. But you talk like that, and I might just ruin you before midnight.” Sero plays with anticipation—he draws it out, lets his words drip with heat and mischief, loving every second of your reactions. He thrives on this kind of energy. You’ll tap out before he does—and he’ll be proud of that win.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

Sólo Tú, Mi Amor - pt. 1

I'm on a roll with these. This one is gonna be longer, though.

Latino!Sero x fem!Reader (use of she/her pronouns)

This one is a bit more mature, so 18+ please. MDNI. Timeskip!Sero, Aged Up, ProHero!Sero

Word Count: 3,156 * I did not expect to write this much, omg. * I also didn't re-read to check for grammar so I apologize for typos.

Enjoy!

** Part 2 is now out!

You yawn, muscles aching and begging for rest as you make your way up to your apartment. The day had been long—nonstop patrols and villains who just couldn’t seem to behave. Honestly, today’s noise was worse than any other day this week. Maybe you should see if you can take a day off tomorrow.

Inside your apartment, you shrug off your boots and start peeling off your hero gear. It wasn’t much—thankfully, you kept your costume simple. Who needs flashy when practical works just as well? It made it easy to get out of in minutes, and you happily pull on some comfy pajamas.

You’re almost in the kitchen to grab a snack when your phone buzzes. You eye it, debating whether to answer. Surely if it was the agency, there were other heroes who could handle whatever urgent business they had. Then again... you sigh and pick up your phone to check the notification. Your eyes widen.

🧻 Cellophane Open your window.

You spin around to look at the only window your apartment has. And sure enough, crouched against the glass like some cryptid Spider-Man, is your best friend—Hanta.

Crossing your arms, you approach the window. His helmet is lifted, and he grins cheekily at you, one arm stretched upward to hold the tape he's hanging down on. His lips start moving, but you can barely hear a word through the thick pane. You lean forward, cupping your ear. He pouts and taps the window, pointing upward.

You shrug, pretending you don’t get what he wants. He rolls his eyes dramatically, then lifts his phone and swipes his thumb over the screen. Seconds later, another text pops up.

🧻 Cellophane Let me in. Please? 🥺

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your chin as you stare at the screen. You make him wait—just a little—fighting the twitch in your lips threatening to give away your amusement.

👾 Me Why should I?

You glance up just in time to see him reading the text. His eyebrows draw together, lips pressing into a mock frown.

🧻 Cellophane Because I brought you a gift. ...But if you don’t want it~

You roll your eyes, but your curiosity wins. With a dramatic sigh, you unlatch the window and lean forward. “What gift?”

"Who said I had a gift?" he grins, kicking off the wall and swinging effortlessly through the window. You shuffle back as he lands with a soft thud, boots hitting your floor.

You gape at him, betrayed, as you raise your phone like it’s damning evidence. "You said you had a gift! That’s textual proof, Sero. Liar."

He just laughs, turning around to slide your window shut behind him. "Relax, pollita. I’m just teasing."

You blink at the nickname but let it slide as he removes his helmet, running a hand through his hair. It’s damp with sweat, strands sticking slightly to his forehead—clearly from patrol. You watch him without meaning to, eyes drifting from the curve of his jaw down to where his collarbone dips beneath his suit. Spandex really doesn’t breathe, you think absently.

His voice cuts through your thoughts. "See something you like?"

You jolt, heart stuttering as you snap your eyes back to his. "Looking for my gift, Mr. Liar."

"In due time," he says, strolling further into your living room like he owns the place. He drops onto your couch with a heavy sigh, boots propped up on the coffee table. If it were anyone else, you’d have smacked them and raised hell—but this was Hanta.

You two had been best friends for years now—crashing at each other's places, pulling late-night patrols, getting way too comfortable in each other's space. Seeing him make himself at home like that wasn’t unusual. It felt... natural.

You step over his legs and settle beside him. "How was patrol?" you ask.

He lets his head fall back against the cushions with a groan. "Exhausting, but fun. I got paired with Denks today—haven’t seen him in a while."

"Denki? That’s shocking."

Hanta’s lips twitch into a smirk. "Wow. Even I felt that one."

You grin. "I’ve been hanging out with you too long."

He stretches his arms behind his head, muscles flexing lazily under the fabric of his suit. "Apparently his agency’s been short on heroes. Since we’ve got history, they asked me to lend a hand. I didn’t mind."

You nod along, but his voice starts to fade as your eyes drift—again.

Seriously, did his suit have to be that tight? It clung to every line of his body like it was tailored for thirst traps, outlining the lean muscle he'd built over time. Back in school, Hanta had been lanky, all limbs and grins. But now? Somewhere along the way, he’d filled out. Toned. Broad-shouldered. Strong.

You blame the increased hero work. After all, you both had been busier since going pro. But this level of glow-up? It wasn’t just functional—it was criminal.

"And then he ate the trash," Hanta says, completely deadpan. "I was seriously impressed."

You blink. "Wait—what?"

He chuckles, catching you red-handed. One brow arches playfully. "Knew you weren’t listening. Where do you keep disappearing to, huh?"

"N-Nowhere," you stammer, clearing your throat and willing the heat in your cheeks to chill out. "I keep wondering when you’re gonna give me this so-called mystery gift."

You try to play it off, casual and breezy, but the question bubbles beneath the surface: What is wrong with me tonight? You've seen him in that suit a hundred times. Crashed on this couch with him dozens more. So why now—why tonight—does it feel different?

You shift slightly, as if the movement will dislodge the spiraling thoughts.

Get a grip.

Hanta finally relents and stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his thighs. "Alright, alright. I’ll get your gift out. It’s, uh... kinda tucked away."

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean tucked away?"

He doesn’t answer. Just shoots you a mischievous grin as his hands reach up—fingers catching on the zipper at the back of his suit. You freeze.

"Hanta—wait—what the hell are you doing?" you squeak, whipping your head to the side the second he starts peeling the suit down his shoulders.

"What?" he says, all mock innocence. "I’m getting your gift. You’ve been impatient all night."

You groan into your hands. "Do you seriously have to strip to do it?"

"It’s not like this thing has pockets," he shoots back, the smugness radiating off him. You can hear the fabric rustling and it makes your heart pound. How much of it has he taken off? You don’t dare look. Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This is Hanta. Your best friend. Your ride-or-die. You have literally eaten instant noodles on this very couch while he snored like a chainsaw.

So why the hell does your brain suddenly want to short-circuit?

You really need to get laid, you think, mildly horrified at yourself. It’s been too long. Clearly. Way too long if you’re about to start thirsting over—

"Alright, got it," Hanta says, voice casual.

You let out a breath and turn around.

Your heart stops.

Instead of zipping back up, Hanta is just standing there—in the middle of your living room—with his suit bunched around his hips. Dangerously low on his hips.

"Tada!" he announces cheerfully, holding out a thin packet like he's not casually half-naked in your apartment. You don't move. You brain has completely frozen over. When you continue to stare, he wiggles it in front of your face. "Hello? You want it or not?"

"Yes," you blurt out—way too quickly. you don't even want to think about what you're answering yes to.

You snatch the packet with a shaky hand, eyes laser-focused on it like it's the holy grail. Anything to not look at the man with no shame.

Thankfully, the distraction words. you blink down at the gift, curiosity slowly overriding your panic. the packet is light, paper-thin, and rattles faintly when you shake it.

"What is it?"

"Open it and find out."

You lift the tab and peek inside. When you don’t immediately see anything, you tip the packet upside down into your palm, giving it a couple of gentle shakes.

Something small drops into your hand—metal clinking softly against your skin. You blink. It’s a keychain. Not just any keychain. A limited edition keychain… of your favorite pro hero.

Your eyes fly wide. "Oh my god!!"

You’re on your feet without even realizing it, the empty packet fluttering to the floor as you cradle the keychain in both hands like it’s fragile. "Where did you find this?"

Not only had it sold out the day of release, but production had stopped months ago. You’d scoured every corner of the internet, but anyone willing to part with it was asking a price way out of reach—even for something you loved this much.

“I have my ways,” Hanta says, wearing that trademark smug smile.

You shake your head, grinning. You don’t care how he got it. All that matters is that it’s yours now.

“Thank you so much!” you gush, surging forward and throwing your arms around his shoulders.

The move catches him off guard—you feel his body stiffen just slightly—but he recovers fast, arms wrapping instinctively around your waist as he pulls you in closer without hesitation.

“Glad you like it, querida.”

You giggle, warmth blooming in your chest as you rest against him. For a moment, all you feel is happiness—the kind that glows soft and golden. You’re still clutching the keychain in one hand when a sudden realization crashes into you like a freight train.

The Hanta you're hugging is the same Hanta who had nothing covering his torso. His very bare torso. The very bare torso that is now pressed firm against you.

You freeze. "Um," you breathe out, voice tight, almost laughing to mask the nerves as you try to step back. "Hanta—?"

But his arms tighten just a little around your waist, grounding you. Holding you there.

You barely have time to process the way his grip lingers before you feel it—his breath. Warm. Soft. Ghosting along the curve of your neck. It sends a chill right down your spine.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, voice low, almost a whisper.

"Okay." You lean back into the hug, letting your eyes fall shut for just a second, your body relaxing into his warmth.

"When I saw the keychain," he says, chin settling on your shoulder, "I thought of you instantly. Got lucky too—the guy who had it turned out to be a villain we picked up on patrol."

You huff a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re kidding."

"I wish. Denki and I found it in his stash. Would you be upset if I told you I had to fight Denki for it?"

"Fight him?"

"Well... more like rock, paper, scissors for it. But it was still a battle for the ages. I almost lost."

You laugh, but when you try to pull back again, his arms don’t budge. His hold is firm, gentle, but possessive in a way that sends static to the base of your spine. You don’t know where to put your hands anymore. Or your thoughts. Every muscle in you seems to remember that you’re pressed against him—skin to skin, practically. His chest is solid and warm, and you can feel the way it rises and falls with each breath.

You’re warm. A little too warm. And it’s not just from embarrassment.

Then, his voice drops a little.

"Would it creep you out," he says slowly, "if I told you that as soon as I had that keychain, I had to come give it to you? Needed to?"

Your heart skips. He finally pulls back, just enough to look at you—really look at you. His smile is soft, but there’s something deeper in it. Something that catches in your throat.

"No," you say quietly. "Why would that creep me out?"

His smile grows, just a little lopsided. "Because I only brought it so I could see that cute smile of yours."

Your breath hitches. "W-What?"

You take a step back, finally out of his embrace, needing space to breathe—but now you miss the warmth immediately. And the way he’s looking at you? It’s like he already knows.

He steps closer as you take a step back. "Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, mi cielo." You raise an eyebrow, and he presses on, "The extra attention? The increased hangouts?" You shake your head.

"Nothing’s been different than usual?"

"No?" Suddenly, your back hits the wall. He takes one more step forward and stops. "Because I’ve noticed. Noticed how your breath catches when I get too close, how your eyes drift away when you think I’m not looking, how your cheeks flush red whenever I’m near." To prove his point, he leans in, lowering his face closer to yours. Your cheeks instantly heat up, blooming a bright red. "See?"

"I—I don’t know what you mean."

Hanta shakes his head slowly. "I think you do. I think you know exactly what I mean." His arms lift, hands coming to rest on the wall just beside your head, effectively caging you in. You fight the urge to stare at the flexed muscles of his forearms, the veins standing out sharply beneath his skin. Your mouth waters and you swallow loudly.

His smirk softens just slightly as he watches you wrestle with yourself, his voice dropping into something low and sure. "I've been patient. Been waiting. Giving you time. Figured maybe you just weren't ready yet. But the way you look at me sometimes?" He tilts his head, eyes glinting with something dark and dangerous. You blink up at him, throat dry. "Hanta..." He leans in, nose almost brushing yours. "Just say the word, and I'll back off. Say you don't feel the same way, and I'll go back to being your annoying best friend." There's a pause. You could laugh. You could dodge. You could tease him back like always. But instead, you do the one thing that feels completely terrifying and completely right at the same time. You whisper, barely audible, "And if I feel the same way?" His hands lifts, knuckles brushing your cheek so gently it sends sparks down your spine. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting," he breathes. "Can I kiss you?" Your heart thunders in your chest. But your answer's already formed on your lips. "Yes."

In a flash, his lips are on yours—urgent, hungry, like he’s been holding back for far too long. You gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape. His hands grip your waist with purpose, dragging you in until your bodies are flush.

You tilt your head, chasing more, and he groans into your mouth, the sound low and strained.

"Fuck," he breathes out as he pulls back for just a moment—only a heartbeat—before crashing back in like he never left. His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you gasp again, lips parting for him without hesitation.

He doesn’t waste a second. His tongue slides in, claiming you with a heat that makes your knees weak. He doesn’t ask—he takes—and you let him, melting against him as your moan echoes into the space between you.

"C'mere," he murmurs, voice rough with want, hands sliding to the back of your thighs. Before you can react, he lifts you with ease, drawing a surprised squeak from you as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

He grins up at you—cocky, warm, wanting—and carries you to your room like he’s done it a hundred times in his head. When he reaches the bed, he tosses you down gently but with intent. You bounce once, maybe twice, breath caught in your throat, heart pounding in your chest.

Then he’s on you, crawling over your body with purpose, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves no room for second guesses. His mouth trails from yours to your jaw, down to the curve of your neck, where he lingers. He suckles just below your ear, pulling a breathy moan from your lips as your head tilts back for him.

"Fuck," he exhales, pulling back just enough to look at you.—hair a mess across the pillow, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen and parted. "Look at you."

He sits back on his haunches, dark eyes drinking you in like a man starved. His hands trail a slow, deliberate path down your sides, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your thighs as his thumbs rub soothing, tempting circles against your skin.

"I've dreamt of you," he confesses, voice husky. "Nearly every night." His words send a tremble rippling through your body. "Dreamt of the way you'd look beneath me... the way you'd sound when I touched you. Dreamt of holding you close until you melted in my arms."

Your breath hitches, pulse fluttering in your neck. The heat in his eyes is enough to set you alight, and the gentle way his hands roam is in direct contrast to the intensity behind his gaze.

"Hanta..." you breathe out, your voice fragile with emotion—equal parts overwhelmed and wanting.

He leans down, pressing his forehead gently to yours, his breath warm and steady. "Say the word, princesa,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “Just one word, and I’m all yours."

Your heart twists, aching in the best way—because even now, with all the heat between you, he waits. For you. You nod without thinking, but he gives a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Nuh-uh," he says softly, his lips brushing yours. "I wanna hear you say it, pretty thing."

You swallow, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Yes… please."

The smile he gives you then is slow, wicked, and impossibly tender.

"Good girl," he murmurs, the praise rolling off his tongue like velvet, sending a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Then he’s kissing you again—slower this time, deeper. Less like he’s claiming and more like he’s savoring. His hands roam more boldly now, skimming up under your shirt, fingertips tracing the dips and curves of your skin like he’s committing every inch to memory.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he says between kisses. "Wanted you."

Your fingers grip at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him like he's the only solid thing in the room. "Why didn’t you say something?" you whisper, dazed.

He pauses, forehead resting against yours again. "Because I didn’t want to risk losing what we already had… but tonight, when you looked at me like that—I had to try."

His honesty leaves you breathless, vulnerable in the best kind of way. You run your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and he grins against your skin as he kisses a trail down your collarbone.

"Then don’t hold back," you murmur, voice low.

___ ok, I'm pausing there cause 1) it's 6:30AM and I still haven't slept and 2) I don't have much experience writing smut BUT I'm gonna try to write the next part which will be the smut scene So if you made it this far, thank you for reading. I'm so sorry to cliffhang you but once I'm well rested I shall return to finish this.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

“You’d look so cute in a maid outfit 😍.”

MHA boys reacting to you saying “You’d look so cute in a maid outfit .”

List Includes: I. Midoriya, T. Iida, S. Todoroki, K. Bakugou, E. Kirishima, D. Kaminari, and H. Sero

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🥦Izuku Midoriya

Cue full-body blush and a flustered loop of anxious muttering.

"Wh–?! A m–maid outfit?!" He covers his face, but you can see the mental image playing out in his head. "W-well, I guess if it was for a mission or maybe like a themed event, I could—wait, do you actually want me to? Would it make you happy? Is it for training? No? Just for fun?!"

He’s spiraling, but you bet he’s googling “best maid outfits for guys” by the end of the day.

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🦵 Tenya Iida

"Absolutely not—!" he begins, adjusting his glasses sternly. "It would be inappropriate attire for a hero."

Never speak of it again.

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🔥❄️ Shoto Todoroki

"...Okay."

Straight-faced. Calm. Fully ready to wear one right then and there.

"Do you have one in my size?" he asks, as if you were offering him a scarf. He’s 100% unfazed. If you laugh, he just shrugs. "If it makes you happy, I don’t mind." (Bonus: he absolutely sends a selfie to his dad just to spite him.)

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💥 Katsuki Bakugou

"THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY?"

He's already yelling, jaw clenched, ears red.

"You tryin’ to die or somethin'?! I ain't wearin' no—no damn frilly-ass—" He short-circuits. The idea of him in ruffles makes him physically combust.

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💪 Eijiro Kirishima

"HAH?! Me? In a maid outfit?!"

You’d expect him to brush it off, but this boy? He LAUGHS. "Manly as hell if you ask me!" he jokes, flexing.

He’ll actually wear it — unironically — and have a whole damn photoshoot for your camera roll.

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⚡ Denki Kaminari

"WAIT that’s actually so hot of you to say."

He’s already Googling cosplay options. "You want fishnets? Lacy apron? Thigh-highs? All of the above? Babe, say less."

Denki is dangerously into the idea. He sends you a mirror selfie later captioned, "Room service? 💋"

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🖤 Hanta Sero

"…You tryna unlock a new kink or something?"

Grins so hard. Leans into it like a menace. "You want me to do a little spin too? Dust the house while I call you ‘Señorita’? Huh, baby?"

He’s halfway into the outfit before you even realize he was serious. And he rocks it.

Masterlist

[nan-not-found]

"Dumbass"

This fic is a bit different from what I've been doing, but bare with me. It's good. I hope. Mainly an excuse to write with my OCs... Anyways.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Word Count: 2,561

Fluff | CW: mild swearing, light sexual suggestions, otherwise PG-13

Guest Appearances: Kazane Kazehara, Itsuki Tatsume, Kaito Onishi, Hanta Sero.

"I give up!"

You flop backwards into the bean bag on the floor, causing the person already in it to bounce slightly before they glance down at you with a raised brow.

"What's got you so down?"

You look up at Itsuki, who’s now leaning over you, her head tilted in curiosity. With a groan, you rub your face with both hands.

"Love."

"Ew." Across the dorm, Kaito wrinkles his nose from where he's slouched in the computer chair, not even glancing up from his phone.

Itsuki rolls her eyes at him before turning back to you. "Why's love got you down? Did you get rejected or something?" When you don't respond, her eyes go wide. "Oh my god, who?!"

You yelp when she grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you. "Who? Who? Who?!"

"Okay, you freaking owl!" you laugh, your head spinning. She finally lets go but leans in closer, grinning. You glance around the room, suddenly aware of all the eyes on you.

"Um..." you begin nervously.

Sero lifts his head from the bed where he’s lounging beside Kazane. "Dude, you don’t have to say anything if you’re not cool with it," he says casually. Kazane, sprawled out next to him, gives a small chirp of agreement.

"Well..." You sigh. "It wouldn’t be so hard if you guys weren’t all friends with them." You pause, then glance toward Kaito. "Well... almost all of you."

"Ooh, so it’s someone we know," Itsuki grins, already tapping her chin like she's solving a mystery.

"Can’t be Sero," she hums, smirking as the black-haired teen slings an arm around Kazane’s shoulders. "And I don’t think it’s Kirishima. Him and Mina have been cozy lately."

Kaito finally looks up from his phone, squinting at you. "It’s not Denki, is it?"

You grimace. "God, no. The guy’s like a little brother to me."

Itsuki’s brows knit together, gears clearly turning. "Wait. You said almost all of us are friends with them. Who’s the one that’s not?"

You hesitate. It might give it away, but at this point... they’re going to figure it out anyway.

"Kaito."

"Me?" Kaito raises an eyebrow, then grins slowly as he leans back in his chair, eyes half-lidded. "Well now, that’s interesting."

Your cheeks flush. Instantly.

"Wait... you know who it is?" Itsuki asks, still not catching on.

From the bed, Sero lets out a snort, already piecing things together as Kazane gives him a confused side-eye.

"Ugh, I’m leaving," you mutter, pushing yourself up from the bean bag, heat rising in your face. Itsuki scrambles and grabs your hand.

"Nooo! Wait!! Just tell me! I swear I won’t judge!" she pleads, eyes wide and pouty.

You take a breath, eyes fixed on the floor.

"It’s... Bakugou."

There’s a pause.

Then a blink.

“OH MY GOD!”

You flinch at the sudden outburst, ears ringing as Itsuki practically launches herself upright, eyes wide.

“You actually like that angry pomeranian?! Since when?”

Groaning, you turn away from her, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“A while now. But there’s... zero chance for me.”

Her face softens immediately. “Oh... right. I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s no big deal. I knew he didn’t like me like that anyway.”

There’s a beat of silence before Kaito shifts in his chair. “How exactly did you confess?”

“I didn’t like... say it outright or anything,” you mumble.

“Oh no,” Kaito mutters, already bracing himself.

“It was more like... we were walking back to the dorms after training,” you start, voice muffled through your palms. “And he said something about how annoying people are when they get clingy, and I laughed and said, ‘Good thing I’m not annoying then, huh?’”

There’s a pause.

“That’s it?” Kaito says flatly.

“No! I also said, ‘Y’know... I think if someone were annoying, you'd probably still tolerate them if you liked them... right?’” You peek out from between your fingers. “And then I kind of smiled at him for a second too long. Like... meaningfully.”

Itsuki stares at you, mouth slightly open.

“And then?” she asks.

You sigh, your voice small. “He said, ‘Tch.’ And that was it.”

Silence falls across the room.

Kaito blinks at you once, then again, slowly. He tilts his head just enough to let his deadpan expression really sink in.

“You’re an idiot.”

You throw your hands up. “I panicked!”

“A grade-A idiot,” he says again.

You groan again and flop face-down into the nearest pillow. “I know! That’s why I said there’s no chance!”

Kaito snorts. “Not with that cryptic nonsense, no.”

You lift your head just enough to glare at him. “Thanks, Kaito.”

He shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just saying. If you wanna shoot your shot, maybe don’t do it in hieroglyphics next time.”

“There’s not gonna be a next time,” you mumble into the pillow. “I embarrassed myself enough already.”

“Not true!” Itsuki immediately gasps, suddenly energized. She hops to her feet, pointing dramatically like she’s just uncovered a conspiracy. “That wasn’t a confession!” She claps her hands together, grinning. “You still have a chance!”

You lift your head just enough to give her a look. “I’m not solving a Rubik’s Cube of feelings for a guy who thinks emotions are a virus.”

“Exactly!” she chirps, somehow taking that as encouragement. “You just need to say it with your whole chest next time! Like, Hey, I like you even though you yell at kids and hate joy.”

Kaito snorts. “Bakugou wouldn't recognize love even if it sucked his—”

“Kaito!” Itsuki cuts him off, whirling on him.

He lifts his hands innocently. “What? I was gonna say ‘face.’ Totally appropriate.”

“You were not.”

“Was too. You’re all just dirty-minded.”

You let out a helpless laugh into the pillow as Itsuki continues arguing with him.

“...Sucked his face?” Sero echoes from the bed, half-laughing, half-confused.

“Don’t encourage him!” Itsuki yells back.

You let out a groan and sit upright again, looking at no one in particular.

“Even if I did try again... how the hell am I supposed to do it?”

Itsuki opens her mouth, clearly ready to launch into one of her pep talks but Kaito beats her to it.

He stands with a sigh, stretching lazily, then walks over and plops down beside you on the bed, causing Kazane to give a little screech as she hurriedly moves her tail.

Without asking, he slings an arm over your shoulder and leans in like he’s about to share a deep secret.

“My poor, sweet idiot,” he says with mock sympathy. “You don’t need to confess. Just forget the whole dating schmuck and skip straight to the benefits of—”

THWUMP.

A blur of pastel and rage smacks him square in the face—Itsuki’s pillow, sparking faintly with energy from her quirk. The hit knocks Kaito off the bed and flat onto his back with a grunt.

“Ow—okay! Rude!”

“Pervert!” Itsuki shouts, already grabbing another pillow just in case.

“You think I’m wrong?!” Kaito calls from the floor, rubbing his cheek.

“YES!” she and Kazane yell in unison.

Still huffing, Itsuki storms over to you and grabs your hand with surprising gentleness.

“Come on,” she mutters, tugging you to your feet and leading you a few steps away from the chaos.

Once you’re off to the side, she turns to you, her expression calmer now—earnest, even.

“Listen,” she says softly. “The best way to confess? Just be honest with him.”

You blink.

“You sure that works on Bakugou?”

She nods. “Especially on Bakugou. He doesn’t do hints. He doesn’t do ‘maybe.’ You just need to say it clearly—no games, no riddles. Just... tell him how you feel. He might not know how to respond at first, but if anyone deserves to hear it straight, it’s him.”

Behind you, Kaito groans dramatically. “Tell him with your whole chest, just like Itsuki tells me to shut up every day.”

“And yet you never listen!”

You look between the two of them—chaos and comfort wrapped up in two very different packages—and manage a small smile.

“You’re right,” you say, standing a little straighter as a flicker of hope lights in your chest. “I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confess again.”

Itsuki lets out the most excited gasp you've ever heard.

“YES!” she squeals, grabbing both your hands and bouncing in place. “That’s the spirit! Honest, bold—confident! You're gonna crush it!”

Sero sits up, grinning. “Let’s gooo, second confession arc!”

Kazane chirps and claps quietly, tail swishing behind her in encouragement.

Even Kaito sits up from where he’s still sprawled out on the floor, brushing stray pillow feathers off his shoulder. “Look at you. A reformed idiot.” He smirks. “Proud of you, really. Couldn’t solve the emotional riddle the first time, but hey—better late than nev—”

His eyes flick toward the door—and pause.

“Oh hey, perfect timing.” His smirk deepens, way too pleased with himself as he gestures lazily toward the doorway. “C4, idiot here needs to talk to you.”

Your heart drops straight into your stomach.

Because there—right in the open doorway that definitely no one remembered to close—is Bakugou Katsuki.

He's standing there with his usual scowl, arms crossed, red eyes scanning the room full of startled expressions. His gaze zeroes in on Kaito first, narrowing immediately.

“Tch. I’m just here for Sero. Kirishima’s looking for him.” His voice is gruff, clipped.

Then his eyes flick to you—and linger.

“What the hell is he on about?” he asks, jerking a thumb at Kaito, one brow raised in suspicion.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Itsuki is grinning like she’s won the lottery. She leans in close behind you and whispers, “You can do this.”

You swallow hard, pulse thundering in your ears. Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, you step forward.

“Bakugou.”

He raises an eyebrow again, clearly not expecting that tone.

Without another word, you grab his hand.

“Follow me.”

“Wh—hey—”

You’re already dragging him out of the room, heart pounding as the rest of your friends explode into half-shouts and wheezed laughter behind you. Kaito calls after you, something like “Don’t die!” mixed with “Be specific this time!”

You don’t stop. You don’t even look back. You tug Bakugou down the hallway, ignoring his grumbling as his heavy boots fall in step behind yours.

This time, you’re not hiding behind hints or layered smiles.

This time, you’re saying it straight.

You throw open the door, pull him inside, and close it behind you.

Silence.

He stands in the middle of your room, arms crossed now that you’ve let go of his hand. His brow is already twitching.

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” he asks, voice low with irritation. “Why’d you drag me in here like a damn hostage?”

You take a deep breath—but the words don’t come out the way you practiced in your head.

“I like you!” you blurt, and immediately your brain short-circuits.

Bakugou blinks. Once. Then twice.

You keep talking. You can’t stop.

“I—I like you, okay? I’ve liked you for a while now, and I tried to tell you once before but I said it all weird and vague and you probably thought I was insulting you or something but I wasn’t! I was trying to say I like you, and I think you’re kind of incredible in a terrifying, rage-monster kind of way—”

His eye twitches again, but you push through it.

“—and I know you probably don’t feel the same, and that’s fine! I just didn’t want to pretend I didn’t feel anything anymore, and I didn’t want to keep hiding it and doing the whole ‘oh maybe he’ll notice me eventually’ thing because you won’t unless someone hits you with a sign—so this is me. Hitting you. With a sign.”

You gesture vaguely at yourself, chest rising and falling from nerves and the sheer speed of your confession.

Bakugou stares at you.

He doesn’t say anything.

Your mouth opens again—but this time no words come out. You’ve already said everything.

Now it’s just you, standing there like a deer in the headlights, waiting to get obliterated by either rejection or one of his patented explosive responses.

He’s frozen, arms still crossed, lips slightly parted like he wants to say something but hasn’t quite figured out what. His eyes flick over your face—like he's scanning for a punchline.

There isn't one.

Finally, he moves. He exhales sharply through his nose and turns his face slightly, jaw tense.

“...Tch.” His voice is low. Rough.

“What, you think draggin’ me in here and blowin’ up like that was a good idea?” He’s still not looking directly at you, shoulders tight.

You deflate a little. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Another pause.

He runs a hand through his hair, fingers twitching at the ends like he’s burning off steam.

“Dumbass.” The word doesn’t come with bite—just weight.

“You’re over here sayin’ all this loud-ass shit like I’m supposed to know how to respond.”

You blink. “I mean... you could just tell me you don’t feel the same—”

“I didn’t say that.”

That stops you cold.

He finally looks at you again. Really looks at you. And for a moment, the fury dims behind his eyes—just enough to show something else hiding underneath. Frustration. Confusion. A flicker of something vulnerable.

“I don’t hate you. If I hated you, I wouldn’t’ve trained with you, wouldn’t’ve walked you back, wouldn’t’ve remembered what you said.” His voice softens, barely. “I’m not good at this shit. Feelings. Talkin’ about ‘em. I wasn’t raised like that.”

His hands curl into fists at his sides.

“So if you’re askin’ if I like you—yeah. I do. But don’t expect me to say it all pretty and shit.” He scowls again, but it’s… thinner now. Less of a wall and more of a shield.

“You want someone soft? You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.”

There’s silence.

Then he adds, quieter:

“But you want me? I’m here.”

Your heart stutters.

Bakugou shifts his weight awkwardly, eyes flicking toward the door.

“You done bein’ a dumbass or you got more confessions to throw in my face?”

“No! I mean, that's all I had to say but, you like me back? Like, like like?”

“I'm not repeating myself.”

“Right! Of course! Sorry.” You chuckle nervously, fiddling with your hands as you shift your weight on your feet.

Bakugou groans and runs a hand down his face, already turning for the door.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath.

He reaches the handle, pulls the door open—and then pauses. He glances over his shoulder, that familiar annoyed scowl back on his face, but his voice isn’t nearly as sharp as before.

“You comin’ or what, idiot?”

Your breath catches. Then you laugh—bright, breathless, disbelieving—and your feet move before you can think. You rush after him, smile stretching across your face like it’s trying to make up for all the times you thought you didn’t stand a chance.

You catch up to him in the hall, and as the door shuts behind you, you hear Itsuki from somewhere down the hallway.

“DID HE SAY YES?! OH MY GOD—KAITO, HE SAID YES—”

Bakugou groans again.

But he doesn’t stop you from walking beside him.

He just grunts, low and quiet, and mutters under his breath—

“Dumbass.”

But this time, it almost sounds like a compliment.