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dashielldeveron · 2 years

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soulmate trope | various bnha x reader

summary: a villain's quirk causes your class to be assigned soulmates.

uh, soulmates aren't real. they're fictional.

choose-yer-own-adventure oneshots. no one knows how to handle any of this, due to every single character being a dumbass.

fem reader. anticipated characters: bakugou, shinsou, todoroki, monoma, aizawa, and maaaaaaybe one of the villains. haven't decided.

“If we could have one day of—fuck, on your left—training without some disaster, I’d really appreciate it,” you yelled over the fracas to Shinsou, who was helping you lifting crumbled concrete off of Kouda, “Where’d they even come from?”

Shinsou sucked in through his teeth, wiping blood dripping from his nose with the back of one of his hands and rubbing his shoulder where a concrete chunk struck him with the other. “I didn’t see which one of ‘em split open the ceiling to ground gamma, but—fuck!”

He tackled you to the ground, dodging part of the facility’s pipes as it flew past. You sputtered a hasty apology to Kouda for landing on his leg, and he scrambled off to check on his rats.

The two of you shuffled out of the rubble, ducking to the side for a moment of reconnaissance. “Okay, okay,” you said, yanking Shinsou behind what looked like a stable hunk of fallen wall, “Bakugou and Todoroki look like they’re taking care of the villain team’s tank—”

“Kirishima’s there, too—”

You sniffed, wiping sweat away from your face. “I think that’s Monoma and, and Yaoyorozu? Deku? Over there with—”

“I think we’d better go help Aizawa-sensei,” said Shinsou, already latching his capture weapon onto an overhead pipe, “He can’t negate both of those villains flanking him at once.”

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing onto Shinsou, and the two of you whipped across the battle, swinging over to the next corner to Aizawa—but something fucking crashed onto you, making you both slam into the ground. Shinsou tumbled, twisted in his own capture weapon, and you, once you gathered yourself, realized you’d broken the fall of a villain just now joining the fight.

“Get off,” you spat, shoving her aside and coughing, and you barely got a good look at her before she leapt to her feet and planted the heel of her boot into your chest, knocking the meagre breath out of you. For a moment, you genuinely appreciated her costume while she surveyed the scene—pink jumpsuit and helmet, probably modelled off of the pink power ranger—but then she stomped on your chest again, washing away any admiration.

She didn’t say anything once she dropped her attention to you, tilting her head to the side. After a shout from her teammate that you couldn’t make out, she dropped to her knees, putting her full body weight on your chest, pinning you to the ground by her harsh grip around your throat.

She flipped up the black visor of her helmet, exposing her mouth, and she tugged off her glove with her teeth.

Clatter came from all sides—explosions, shattering of ice, concrete splintering like rotten wood, and the villain atop you grinned, nodding at something in the distance while dropping the glove onto your cheek, where it slid off into the debris. “He’s your friend?”

Who’s she talking about?

With a quiet chuckle, she held her bare hand up where you could see it, wiggling her fingers. “I’m about to change your life.”

You were supposed to be fighting back. But you lay there, mesmerised, as glittering, pink dust rose from her fingertips, thin and trailing at first, but soon surging through the air, around you, and you heard a snap—the dust spread in an instant across the whole of the destroyed battlefield of ground gamma.

You took a quick breath, holding it, and kicked frantically underneath her, watching out of the corner of your eye as your friends dropped to the ground within the pink cloud.

“Oh, stop it,” she said through a gritted smile, “At the very least, it’ll be fun.”

She held her leaking hand underneath your nose and tightened her grip around your neck, pressing down on your pulse point.

No. You wouldn’t breathe it in, whatever it was. Minimum it would cause you to faint, like the rest of your classmates, but past that, who knows? You’re not taking…you’re not…you were getting light-headed. But no, you wouldn’t. C’mon, get bored and leave. Leave me alone.

You’re not…

You’re won’t…

Goddamnit.

When you gasped your next breath, you got a lungful of that glittering dust. You anticipated a cough from breathing it in, but oh, God, it was like breathing clearer air, pure oxygen inside this grubby battlefield, and then—then? Then it was as if the air shifted and contorted itself, and you couldn’t get enough: perfectly brewed vanilla coffee, slices of orange on a spring morning, freshly baked chocolate cookies, and more, more scents that brought you to specific times in your life filled with good, good times—none of them mixing together, each scent distinct yet still overwhelming. God, you’ll be smothered if it allows you to experience this.

You were writhing underneath the villain until you passed out.

***

[video description: a white-haired woman is strapped to a chair in a police station’s interrogation room. She looks perfectly calm, even though she’s been arrested, and she’s observing the room at large, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek.

“Name?” comes a voice offscreen.

“Buh, buh! Taint-ed Love,” she says in a sing-song voice.

“Your birth name,” says the voice.

“Ito Tsukimi.” She’s looking at the officer behind the camera with soft, half-lidded eyes.

“Describe your quirk.”

Her grin stretches across her face, and it’s a bit too wide for it. Very toothy. “I’ve been calling it Soulmate Trope. Are you familiar with soulmates, Officer Suzuki?”

There’s the sound of flipping paper. “That’s some fantasy idea in romance novels and films, right? Two people destined for each other.”

“More or less,” Ito says, tilting her head to the side, as if thinking about it, “How do soulmates tell when they’ve met?”

“There’s that movie with the timers—”

Ito interrupts, sitting up in her seat as well as she can, and speaks towards another side of the room, biting her lower lip while she grins. “Officer Kim?”

A different voice, this one masculine, stutters from a distance behind the camera. “Uh, I’ve—I’ve read a book where soulmates had the same tattoo somewhere on their bodies, and um, there’s that old story about the red strings—”

“Yeah, but it’s all bullshit, right?” Ito says, relaxing into a slump, “Soulmates are bullshit. None of that actually is real.” She preens like a cat the best she can in her shackles. “My quirk produces a pink miasma that, once inhaled, assigns you a soulmate. You don’t have one if you haven’t been exposed to it. Usually, your soulmate will have inhaled from the same miasma you did. There are exceptions, but that happens about at the rate—oh, about one in ten. Maybe fifteen.”

The original officer speaks again. “So, is it indicated by a red string, a mark, or?”

“Well, I’ve observed that it can be quite inconvenient for those involved,” she says, “Because there’s no way to control how you’ll know who’s your soulmate. Red string? Sure. Shared tattoos, shared pain? Yeah. Drawing on each other’s skin, shared dreams, first words—” She clicks her tongue. “The real problem comes in when you’ve met the person who becomes your soulmate before, since most soulmate tropes rely on revealing themselves at your first meeting.”

“What’s…what’s that mean?”

“It means that sometimes there’s multiple pairs of soulmates with timers, but they’re already at zero, since they’re all friends, and they can’t tell who’s whose soulmate. It means that you may not remember who said those first words to you, all those years ago. If the soulmate trope assigned to you were to see in black and white until you met your soulmate, but you’ve already met them when you breathe in my quirk, then you’ve always seen in colour, haven’t you? You can’t tell. But now there’s—” She stuck out her tongue. “—an ache in your soul. A longing for another half. Wears away at you if don’t know who it is.”

More paper shuffling from off-camera.

Ito squints. “Oh, that. Old stats. It’s gone up since then. My team thinks that it wears away around three-sevenths of your lifespan if you don’t find your soulmate. It’s been nebulous, but we’ve been taking into account lifespan data from my family’s quirks.”

Suzuki sighs behind the camera. “And you…released this into a bunch of Japan’s upcoming heroes while training.”

“Yeah, what of it? That’s a joke; I understand. I know why I’ve been arrested. And I believe I’ve shared all the relevant information. Hey,” Ito nods upwards in a direction she hasn’t spoken before, “you got a name to go along with those tight thighs?”

The camera falls to the side in the haste to shut it off. End video description.]

***

3-A and 3-B had been hanging out more frequently since the, uh. Soulmate attack. Other injuries had been assuaged by Recovery Girl, and ground gamma had been rebuilt, mostly by Cementoss.

You kind of hated it. Dreaded it, in fact, because suddenly, everyone was a lot more social. A lot touchier. All in the name of trying to figure out who was whose soulmate, or if they even had one.

Unmatched classmates seemed to constantly lounge about the common rooms at the dorms, spending more time together playing video games and cooking, just taking up space and making noise, and shit. Walking to class together, constantly leaning on each other, clinging—

Kaminari was becoming insufferable, trying to bounce between person to person but never finding anything. You’d swatted him away from messing with your hair or trying to peek down your shirt, or the like, for some sign. He didn’t have any visible mark, so he was telling everyone that his was probably touch-based, so did you mind if he just, like, caressed your cheek, or maybe slid his arms around your waist?

It got worse once Mineta took up the same mantle of claiming touch-based soulmates, since he also didn’t have any visible sign, but based on the video of Tainted Love that had spread, he was probably one of the so-called lucky one in fifteen. Didn’t stop him from being terrible, though, but it got tamed to an extent once Bakugou drop-kicked him off Aizawa’s desk on behalf of 3-A’s girls.

Some people were fortunate enough recognise their soulmates immediately, like Yaoyorozu and Jirou, who’d been matched by halves of a tattoo; it also helped that they’d already been dating when they breathed in the miasma.

Though already dating didn’t seem to be a contributing factor to the soulmate matching. Three couples had broken up because they weren’t soulmates, although one from 3-B stayed together, despite it.

It was baffling that Kirishima was soulmates with a girl, but, as Mina assured you, they were being straight in a distinctly bisexual way, and, admittedly, they could be cute when they were in public, with her sitting in his lap in the common room among the rest of the Bakusquad. Both of them laughed more loudly nowadays, and—and fuck, out of all of this, that made your heart ache. Because yes, most of your friends were running around frantically, trying not to die and to find love and completion, but you just…

“Bro, if I had a red string of fate,” Kaminari was saying through three pocky sticks, dangling his feet off of Sero’s desk, “My soulmate and I would use it as a joint support weapon to tie people up.”

“Do you think you could make the string solid, or would it stay invisible and intangible?” Sero asked, and he held out his arm, pulling out a bit of tape. “My soulmate keeps drawing shit on their arm, and it’s adorable. Look at this. It bleeds through my skin sometimes and ends up on my tape.”

“Aw,” said Mina, snatching the tape out of Kaminari’s hand, “It’s got your name in a heart. They tell you who they are yet?”

Sero shook his head, but he was smiling. “They’ve said they’ve in class B, but that’s all. They wrote they wanted to draw out the suspense.”

“Don’t waste your time on their dramatic ass,” grumbled Bakugou from his desk, “if they’re just going to drag you away from your goals.” Bakugou scratched the back of his neck, pulling his loose collar farther away from his skin. “I wouldn’t want a soulmate who holds me back.”

Kirishima looked up from the meme Mina was showing him. “Wait, you haven’t found yours yet, Bakubro?”

“Don’t sound so fucking distraught, Shitty Hair,” said Bakugou, scowling, “Lots of us haven’t identified our soulmates yet. Hell, I’d prefer if I didn’t have one.”

“You’re not marked?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said Bakugou, and he crumpled up his paper and left the conversation for the trash can.

“Huh. All right, well, who else is on the soulmate market?” Kaminari clapped his hands together, smushing his pocky box slightly. “Let’s see. Ida’s taken. So are Asui, Tokoyami, Ojiro, Hagakure—”

“Thought you were listing the unmatched people,” said Sero, “That’d be faster.”

“It’s harder to think of who’s left,” said Kaminari with a whine, “I don’t wanna think.”

“Monoma,” came Shinsou’s voice as he just now got to the classroom from the cafeteria, setting his tray on his desk, “Awase. Komiri. That, uh, American—Tsunotori.”

Maybe if you stay very still, they won’t notice you.

“Isn’t Asui unmatched, too?” asked Sero.

“She is,” Mina, twirling a strand of her hair.

Gradually, you shrank in your seat, shrinking inch by inch.

Kirishima frowned. “Wait, she is, as in, she is matched, or she is, as in she’s not—”

“Hey,” Shinsou said, tapping his fingers pointedly on your desk, and you fucking jumped out of your skin. The movement drew everyone else’s attention towards you. “You haven’t told us who your soulmate is. You keepin’ it a secret?”

After glancing over the group (with Mina lifting her brows suggestively at you), you turned back to Shinsou and rolled your shoulders back, sitting up straight. “Yeah, bitch-boy. You got a problem with that?”

bakugou route

monoma route

todoroki route

aizawa route (part two)

shinsou route

dabi / todoroki touya route

shigaraki route

others tba

#bnha #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou x reader #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #monoma neito #monoma x reader #soulmates #soulmate au #dash it all #dabi #dabi x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader

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tangyangie · 1 year

Text

a slight annoyance

character(s): izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, shoto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijiro kirishima, neito monoma

genre(s): fluff, comfort

synopsis: you’re being bugged by anything and everything. how do the mha boys deal with it?

i'm not writing any mha for a while... because this took way too long. 🥹

» izuku midoriya ☆

ohmygod he’s so sweet. everything he does is meant for comfort.

would probably break through a window for you at this point in time

"do you need anything? i can go grab a blanket, food, anything!"

» scenario:

izuku noticed you've been looking down today. you weren't nearly as energetic as you normally were, and your eyebrows seemed to be permanently furrowed.

everyone was training as usual, but you were in the corner, sad, slow, and slacking. izuku was surprised mr. aizawa hadn't called you out yet.

he subtly made his way over to you, seeming to just be flying around like he normally did.

shooting you a smile, he waved as he bounced everywhere, trying to improve the height of his jump.

you smiled back, but it was obviously forced. once you thought he had gone away, you exhaled heavily and went back to your training. again, izuku noticed this, and he decided to question you about it after training, as do not to disturb you even more.

once the day had ended, everyone walked back to the dorms.

"hey, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?" you heard him say, softly, with a hand gently resting on your shoulder.

barely changing your monotonous face, you replied. "sure, what's up?"

he explained his predicament to you. "you've been off today. do you want to talk to me about anything?"

you didn't care to change your expression. you knew he could read you like a book -- and he knew as well. you sat down on the bed, taking a deep breath in, and you explained your situation.

"--and i've just been so stressed about everything, that i can't focus. i got annoyed at every single thing that's happened today." izuku just nodded and engulfed you in a hugging position.

he always felt like he wasn't good enough at everything, and that included comforting you. but, he always tried his best, and according to you, his best was more than enough.

"do you need anything? i can go grab a blanket, food, anything!"

you shake your head, pulling izuku back towards you. "don't leave just yet. i just want peace and quiet, a hug from you, and a nice, long nap."

"a really, really long nap."

»»»

» katsuki bakugo ☆

bakugo is very... direct. almost scarily so.

so it shouldn't come as a surprise that he would instantaneously question you about your gloomy expression.

"what's going on with you?! you better not lie."

» scenario:

once again, class 1-a was training. similar to capture the flag, they were playing a game where the other teams had to capture their object, which is selected at the beginning.

but you weren't focused on this game. and neither was katsuki. he was focused on you.

he had noticed the dull look on your face ever since everyone got outside. and now that the game had started, it wouldn't be easy to pull you aside and ask you about your expression.

but, when has katsuki ever preferred easy?

while you were on the other team, he still wanted to talk to you, but, of course, he still wanted to win the game.

so, while blasting and destroying his surroundings in order to find your teams' specific object, he was simultaneously looking around for you.

where the hell are they?

you were no where to be found, at first. but then, katsuki saw a figure moving past him in the corner of his eye. he turned his head to see you, running along without even a hint of joy in your face.

suddenly changing course, he used his explosions to direct himself towards you, and thus landing directly in front of you.

"katsuki?? what-"

"what's going on with you?! you better not lie."

"there's nothing wrong." you say casually, but even bakugo could detect the little bit of worry in your voice.

"don't waste our time. we're still training, remember?" he scoffs.

"..i'll tell you later." you sigh.

but, soon enough, you hear a loud noise.

"[y/n's team wins!]" both of you heard from the loudspeakers. you slowly turned to look at bakugo, who looked almost furious.

you stayed silent until he decided to speak.

"how the hell did they get our thing so fast and return it to the base??" he yelled.

the yelling annoyed you, and bakugo looked at your face and could tell that.

"..sorry." he said, so silently you could barely hear.

"what was that?" you teased.

knowing you heard him, he sighed, but grumbled it out again.

"i said i'm sorry."

you laughed, slightly. "it's not your fault, kat. i'm just getting annoyed at everything."

"well, that's not your fault either, so come on." he motioned for you to follow him.

"come on, what?" you asked.

"let's go do something you want to do. it's obviously not schoolwork." he groaned.

"aww, you'd skip school just for me?" you snickered.

"shut up and go relax."

»»»

» shoto todoroki ☆

he says he's not the best at comforting people. he's very, very wrong.

anything you need, he'll gladly do.

"take your time, i'm listening."

» scenario:

you hadn't exited your room once today. shoto definitely noticed.

so, he contemplated knocking on the door.

what if they just went somewhere?

no, i think i would've noticed.

are they doing something in their room?

no, i haven't heard a single noise coming from there. and it's late enough that they would have come out to eat. it's saturday.

...

"i should knock." he whispered to himself.

and thus, he compelled himself to walk to the door.

your door.

he knocked three times with the back of his hand.

"y/n, may i come in?" he whispered after he heard you shuffle to the door.

you grumbled out a "sure" as you unlocked the entrance, allowing shoto to follow you.

"what's wrong, y/n? you look really sad," he mumbled.

you plunged face-down into your bed, groaning into your pillow. "mhh faish izz num nd ai cand hink," you spoke quickly and unintelligibly.

"take your time, i'm listening."

sighing, you sat up to explain how you felt. how everything was only making your horrible headache worse.

he sat down next to you on the bed, and brought his right arm around your shoulders. bringing you in close, he snuggled you and listened for as long as you rambled.

after about 10 minutes, you concluded your speech.

"she sounds like a bitch." shoto decided to speak after you had been silent for a few extra seconds.

"right?? also, when did you start to curse like that?" you asked.

"when did you start to be so down?" he countered.

"fair, fair," you sighed.

"want to get some food?" shoto asked, unsure of what else to suggest.

"please." you laughed, glad your headache was starting to depart.

although he doesn't know it, your greatest comfort is him.

»»»

» denki kaminari ☆

he'd probably just think you were being dramatic at first. not in a bitchy way, but he honestly thought you were joking.

after that, he'd be the kindest person ever, occasionally including small things to get you to laugh your sorrows away.

"look at you, trying not to smile! you know you love me."

» scenario:

it was around lunchtime on saturday, and you were face down in your pillow. denki had seen you at breakfast, but that's it.

"y/n!" he knocked. "look what i found!! it's my old psp! i thought i didn't pack it when we moved to the dorms, but i guess i did."

after around a minute of standing in silence, he knocked again.

"y/n?"

there was no reply at first, but a grumbled 'hold on' sounded, and denki heard your feet shuffling across the floor.

you opened the door, and denki smiled. "did you just wake up?" you frowned at this, and lightly raised your eyebrow. "i'm going to lock you out."

he wrapped his arms around you. "sorry, my bad!! you look great, honey." you sighed.

denki came in your dorm, rambling about all the games he's found, and which ones he should try first. then, he heard the sound of you collapsing onto your bed.

"y/n, what's wrong?" he whined, following you to the bed and climbing next to you.

"everything sucks today." you groaned, smushing the pillow into your face.

"aww, poor y/n. what happened?" he said, as if he was speaking to a child.

"seriously." you looked up at him, obviously a little annoyed.

"wait, really? i thought you were joking. i'm sorry." he frowned and moved to hug you.

after a minute or two in silence, he said something completely random. you couldn't help but giggle a little bit at this, as it was completely out of the blue.

"was that a laugh??" he grinned, proceeding to try everything astronomically possible to get you to laugh. even another chuckle would be good enough for him.

"look at you, trying not to smile! you know you love me."

you sighed, rolled your eyes, and pulled him back down next to you. giving him a kiss on the forehead to shut him up, he laughed and pulled you closer.

"now, tell me about this psp of yours. quietly."

»»»

» eijiro kirishima ☆

he's very considerate with all of his actions. at this point in time, he will literally do anything to make you feel better than before.

he'd buy you the fanciest food ever made and carry it to you on a platter if you so wished.

"it's just what someone as manly as me should do!"

» scenario:

"have you noticed y/n today?" kirishima whispers, eyeing you.

"what?" denki looks up, startled.

"i mean, haven't they seemed off? they look pretty grumpy."

"i don't know, dude. you're the one dating them." denki sighed.

kirishima puffed out his cheeks and exhaled, departing from his conversation with denki.

he walks over to you, while you were lying face up on the couch.

"hey, y/n. noticed you were-- uhm. lying here on the couch." eijiro nervously said.

you glanced at him, smiled, and said nothing.

"what's up?" he asks, sitting on the armrest.

you let out a long sigh, and groan, "too much to say."

"..can i help?" he asks, jumping up. "i'll do anything! do you want food? or, maybe a blanket. do you want me to put on a movie, too?"

"eijiro, thanks. that'd be great." you smile and settle back down into the couch as you watch kirishima rush everywhere to make you happy.

he returned with lots of snacks, a blanket, and fetched the remote so you could choose something to watch.

"you're amazing, kirishima." you gently hugged him as he sat down next to you on the couch.

"it's just what someone as manly as me should do!"

as you were watching the movie, you fell asleep into his lap. you deserved the rest you were finally getting.

"sleep well, y/n."

»»»

» neito monoma ☆

let's be real. neito is probably part of the problem. as much as he may try, he's a little obsessed when it comes to proving himself over class 1-a.

but, when he notices his s/o (the only good person in class 1-a, according to him) so distraught, he couldn't help but investigate the matter.

"is there anything i can do to help?"

» scenario:

he's busy laughing, as always.

"can class 1-a not meet our standards? hmm, it seems that we, class 1-b are getting better and better!" he yelled to no one in particular.

"of course, y/n can always meet our standards." he adds at the end. "they do no wrong," he smiles giddily. he then twirls around, scanning the class for your eyes.

you both make eye contact, and you barely notice at first. you were completely zoned out, too angry (also at no one in particular) to think.

you blink a few times to clear your face, and barely smile at monoma, who raises an eyebrow, makes a mental note to check in on you, and concludes his bi-weekly class 1-b speech.

"thank you for your time, and don't forget to tip your waiters," neito says in a hurry.

you had gone to the kitchen to get a snack, it seemed. he peaked through the doorway, with the sound and the light of the common area flooding the room.

"noticed you were completely zonked out there." he said, hoping to lighten your obviously somber mood.

"so it seems," you sighed, rummaging through the pantry to look for a bag of something to munch on.

monoma slowly and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, bringing you in for a hug. "what's wrong?" he asked, softly wrapping his arms around your back.

relaxing your face, you spewed every problem you had dealt with today. slipping on your own socks when you got out of bed, spilling your breakfast on the countertop, turning out you woke up an hour early, having a horrible headache the whole day, and more, which you explained in detail to neito.

"is there anything i can do to help?"

sighing, you looked to the ground. "sometimes, your class 1-b speeches get to me. i know you say you're not talking about me, but it still hurts when you talk about people i'm close to,"

feeling guilty that part of your mood was his fault, he inhaled sharply and hugged you even tighter. "i'm really sorry, y/n." he spoke. "please, always tell me if you think i'm going too far."

"besides, you're worth more to me than my ego," he smiles, as you snuggle into him, giving him a kiss on his shoulder.

"thanks for understanding, neito." you say, looking up to his face.

"of course." he says. "chips or fruit snacks?"

"just you, please."

"eating me??" neito gasped as he faked looking shocked.

"stupid idiot. i'm gonna throw you out the window."

"i love you too," he smiles teasingly.

as annoying as he is, you smiled back.

notes: guess my favorite character i bet you won’t

why do i change my obsessions so much </3 i actually really don't like mha rn

anyways this should not have taken so long.

409 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 1 year

Text

Deceiving the Duke | 2 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.2k of 30k words | 2nd of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a lady’s maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

The next two days were a whirlwind of activity.

Camie’s dresses arrived, neither quite your shape nor your height, and they required a significant amount of modification to make them wearable. Mrs. Utsushimi helped you select one appropriate for the Monomas’ ball, and you focused all your effort on readying it in time, working into the late night to rework its shape, letting out some seams and taking in other hemlines.

Caroline helped as well, though she mostly only knew embroidery, but she saved several hours unpicking stitches, and covering over some of your hasty needle work with neat little embroidered embellishments.

In addition, Caroline had you practicing all manner of things. She had you stumbling around the sitting room, trying to learn an overwhelming number of dance steps. She herded you into the kitchen to observe table manners, how to sip from a spoon and how to select the appropriate silverware for a course. She tried to impart tips on how to move with elegance and propriety, how to curtsy and when and to whom, proper fan etiquette and conversational etiquette.

Your head swam with the unbearable volume of new information— a thousand ridiculous little nothings that apparently added up to everything.

By the time the Monomas’ ball arrived, you were exhausted, having barely slept or eaten a thing in days. You helped the Utsushimis dress and did their hair, then spent an inordinate amount of time struggling with your own. Caroline helped you match a choker with a small paste diamond to your gown, a pale blue muslin dress which bared entirely too much of your neckline for your comfort.

“Good,” Mrs. Utsushimi pronounced when she met you at the doorway, your stomach churning with anxiety. “You look the part, at least.”

This did not help ease your nerves whatsoever. As the carriage pulled into the Monomas’ drive, you had to suppress a wave of nausea.

Inside, things were even worse. The reception room was stuffed with more nobility than you had ever seen in one place. They were all awash in contrasting shades–the men all marvelously outfitted in dark tailcoats, the women in a posy of pale-colored gowns that practically glowed in the candlelight. Jewels sparkled off of slender necks and at the point of every ear, and the soft pad of boots and slippers against the wooden floors created a sort of murmuring undertone that dampened the sound of the space.

Immediately overwhelmed, you clenched your fingers, still raw from sewing. Your calluses caught the inside of your evening gloves and you winced.

You did not belong here.

Caroline helped take your mind off of things by showing you where to collect a dance card, which you quickly filled with nonsense names to prevent you from having to stand up with anyone, though you doubted you’d be asked. Then you followed the Utsushimis nervously to a conspicuous place on the edge of the dance floor, where Caroline could be seen clearly by any prospecting gentleman.

It was a great relief that at least you did not also have to try to tempt a husband, as the very thought of trying to converse with a gentleman made your skin crawl. You did not envy Caroline, whose whole future had to be decided in this one season, who would have to live with her deception exposed shortly thereafter.

Your place in the crowd meant you were also exposed to the other members of the gentry, however, and you were quickly descended on by all manner of Machiavellian mothers, scouting out the new debut to determine if you posed any sort of danger to their own daughters’ prospects.

“You must be Camie,” a woman in an extravagantly outfitted gown bore down on you. It was so begotten with lace and ribbon and netting that you could hardly make out the shape of the woman underneath. She looked friendly enough, but you had been warned by the Utsushimis never to trust a placid expression.

Your heart climbed into your throat, panicking at being so addressed.

“The Lady Cathleen Bate,” Caroline hinted to you, and you dropped a curtsey, hoping you’d gotten it right. Mrs. Utsushimi did not look upset, at any rate.

“Lady Bate,” you said, trying to control the nervous timbre of your voice. It came out high and strangled anyway.

“I must say, you don’t look a thing like your mother and sister,” she observed, and your heart beat double time.

Fuck, obviously you didn’t look anything like the Utsushimis. Why had any of you thought this was a good idea?

“I…take after my father’s coloring,” you supplied hastily, praying to any god who’d listen that she’d never met the man before his passing.

She made a thoughtful noise, a cross between a hum and a harrumph. It was loud enough that it summoned the attention of the other ladies nearby, and very quickly you were inundated with questions and evaluative once-overs by every scheming mother this side of the ballroom. They practically ran through a checklist of your qualifications, sussing out whether you played piano forte, what sort of needlework you did, what kind of education you’d had, and a laundry list of other incredibly pointed questions that made you feel like you could only ever supply the wrong answer.

Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi did their best to help field questions and to give answers where your obvious lack of formal education became a hinderance—really, how many oblique references to Sophocles in the original Greek did one need to make before they concluded their training was superior to yours?–but it was all too overwhelming.

Mrs. Utsushimi seized an opportunity when the next question about your appearance came your way. She tried valiantly to draw attention away from you with a dramatic retelling of her husband’s demise, waving her fan as theatrically as she wielded her handkerchief.

The moment everyone’s attention was turned towards her, you took your chance.

You ducked away from the gaggle of women, worming your way out of the crowd. You tried to take care not to arouse notice, as you’d been informed an unmarried girl wandering about without a chaperone was much too bold. You beelined past the refreshments table, unable to help lifting a glass of lemonade and several apricot cakes for your troubles, and headed for a promising door on the opposite side of the room that you thought might be a closet.

It turned out to let into a library—quiet, dark and still. You could just barely make out the shape of a few low armchairs and spines of the books by the silvery pool of moonlight spilling in through a row of heavily-curtained windows.

You rushed in, and quickly shoved the door closed behind you. A wave of cool relief sent you slumping against it. Shifting your spoils to one hand, you yanked down a glove with your teeth, annoyed at how constricting the fabric was, how hot and clammy it had made your hands, then made quick work of the other one.

“Fuck,” you muttered again, delighting in the rudeness of the sound. Even twenty minutes in this company had been too much–you didn’t know how anyone could bear it. Camie herself would have never lasted. “Oh fuck…what have I got myself into?”

“I’m told it’s called a library,” a low voice intoned from the other side of the room, and you screamed, reflexively flinging your handful of snacks in the direction of the voice.

A tall silhouette ducked your apricot cakes, and the silence that followed could only be interpreted as astonished.

All hells, you were so deeply unqualified for the scheme you’d embroiled yourself in.

“I—I didn’t see you—oh, I’m sorry—” you said, watching the figure take a step towards you. The crack of light from under the door highlighted one grey eye and a mop of white hair, a sliver of fair skin. A man.

The proper thing to do would be to leave. You’d been informed to be caught alone with a man was the height of impropriety–-and here one was. But the thought of going back out there made your stomach churn, and you clutched at the door handle uncertainly.

“You’re not…Lord Monoma, are you?” You asked.

The man’s silver eye narrowed in on you. “No,” he said. His tone was low and smooth.

Well at least you hadn’t offended your host, then.

Before you knew what you were saying, the plea was tumbling out of your mouth. “Please let me hide out in here! I’ll give you anything for use of this room. If I have to go back out there I will die.”

There was another moment of stunned silence, and then the man asked, strangely, “I may go, then?”

You squinted at him in the dark. What in hell was that supposed to mean? You weren’t the gatekeeper of the doorway. And of course he should go, for propriety’s sake.

You quickly stepped aside, gesturing to the door and hoping he could see it in the dim. “All yours, thank you for your generous aid in my time of need.”

But the man made no move to leave, and that silver eye stayed fixed on your face. “You’re certain,” he said flatly.

Just what was he getting at here? Could a girl not get alone time with a glass of lemonade?

“Sir–my lord–I’m not sure of your address, I apologize—” you fumbled. “You may stay or go, but I quite require use of this room. If you will excuse me…”

But he still made no move to leave. “And no one is going to…happen upon us here?” he said, his tone even lower and more disbelieving.

Your anxiety spiked. “You don’t think they will, do you?” You asked worriedly. If you were subjected to one more derisive sneer over your inability to read two thousand year old Greek, you would die of humiliation. You quickly moved towards the drapes at the window, inserting yourself behind one.

“If they look for me, you don’t think I’ll be noticed here, do you?” you asked.

There was only silence again, completely judgmental in its ringing emptiness.

If you were really a lady, you supposed you might feel vaguely offended that a man should treat you thus. But you weren’t here to matchmake, so he could do whatever he liked. You shrugged, sliding down the wall to pull your knees against your chest, and took a sip of your lemonade, thankful you hadn’t flung that at him too.

How embarrassing.

The curtain was suddenly tugged back, however, and the man stared down at you. In the moonlight from the window you could just make out two glittering eyes, the straight line of a handsome nose.

“Who are you?” he asked lowly.

“Camie Utsushimi,” you offered, then wondered if you should have made up another name.

Rudely, he did not offer his name back. “Who are you hiding from?” he asked.

“Lady Cathleen Bate, and every other mother who wants to know if I’m to steal their daughters’ prospects out from under them. As if I could, as if I would!” You said moodily.

The man contemplated this in silence. You sipped your lemonade as he seemed to come to some kind of decision.

He made a sort of long sighing sound out of his nose, then offered quietly, “I too, wish to avoid such judgements…”

His tone was flat, but sincere. You recognized the statement for the peace offering it was.

“We can share the hiding place then,” you allowed. “But you must not tell anyone.”

Those eyes glinted in the moonlight, almost speculatively. “You have my word.”

You handed over your single remaining apricot cake to cement the entente. “An honor doing business with you then, sir—or, my lord…?”

His gloved hand brushed your own as he took the cake from you, and he paused, staring down at your bare fingers.

Your face warmed. Right, the gentry were strange about the intimacy of bare skin.

You quickly shoved your gloves back on, cheeks heating, searching for something to fill the awkward silence.

“So, whose daughter’s prospects are you stealing?” you asked stupidly.

The man coughed suddenly, which sounded suspiciously like it might be covering something like a laugh.

“I rather thought gentlemen were the prospects,” he allowed.

You supposed it would be rude to tell an actual gentleman that he and his ilk should hardly consider themselves such, considering how needlessly troublesome this whole marriage market affair was.

“Yes, well,” you said vaguely. “In that case, make sure you’ve brushed up on your Ancient Greek so your wife may accurately test into your coupling.”

Those eyes glinted down at you. Reflecting the moonlight, they were both pale, but you almost imagined they were different colors—his left eye looked a little bluer, perhaps due to the angle he held his head at.

“Must there be a test?” he asked in that low voice.

“Of course. How else do couples converse, if not in Ancient Greek?” you asked.

Those eyes creased, as if the man were smiling. He said something, a string of sounds you couldn’t place—until you realized.

You rolled your eyes, taking an angry sip of your lemonade.

“Yes, a wonderful party,” you answered, as if you’d at all understood what he’d said.

A huff of breath left him, and you knew you were being laughed at.

“Rest assured, I am entirely unsuitable for marriage,” you informed him. “Not a lick of piano forte in me either. Luckily I’ve just been introduced to several young ladies I might recommend to you.”

“Ah” the man said, somewhat knowingly. “This is your debut, then.”

You were struck again by how low and warm and beautifully smooth his voice was. You wondered if his face was just as beautiful as his voice.

“Yes,” you answered, your mind flicking back to the flock of pecking hens back in the ballroom. Then a thought struck you.

“Who are you hiding from in here?” you asked.

The man was quiet for a moment, as if weighing his answer. “...The mothers of the very ladies you’ve threatened to introduce me to,” he said finally.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “They’re bloodthirsty, I will give you that.”

His eyes crinkled a little again, perhaps with another small smile. “I’ve seen their like only once before.”

“Where?” you asked gamely.

“The War for All,” he answered, and another laugh burst out of you.

You shouldn’t have laughed—the War for All, an incident from nearly a decade ago, had been the closest the country had ever come to its downfall. Princess-Regent Momo Yaoyorozu had newly come to power, only to meet a coup from a faction of detractors, attempting to install would-be Prince Shigaraki in her place. The capital had been under siege for nearly a year, before a group of the princess’s allies had helped defeat him–and the princess had spent the next few years consolidating her power, flushing out Shigaraki’s remaining supporters.

It was rude to compare marriage-minded mothers to the like of Shigaraki’s forces.

And yet also perhaps not entirely inaccurate.

“May you meet similar victory on this battlefield,” you told the man.

A clock chimed in the corner of the library, startling you. The remaining lemonade sloshed in your glass.

You sighed, listening to the clock strike eleven. You’d have to reunite with Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi soon, lest they come looking for you and discover you tucked away in this den of iniquity with a strange man.

“Speaking of battles, I believe it’s time for me to rejoin this one,” you said, getting back to your feet. Standing this close to him, you realized the man was rather tall, and he smelled horribly good–like crushed pine, and the powdery starch that had probably gone into his collar points.

As you made your way around him, he offered his hand, surprising you.

“It was good to meet you, Miss Utsushimi,” he said, the use of Camie’s last name startling you a little. Right, you were supposed to be impersonating a member of the ton. You’d spoken perhaps a little too freely in the dark of this secluded room.

“You as well, sir–lord—?” you said, placing your hand in his, realizing he’d never told you his name.

He raised your hand, pressing his mouth to the back of your hand in a proper greeting. You flushed nervously, the heat of his mouth searing through the fabric of your glove

“Shouto Todoroki,” he said.

Your hand froze in his, your heated blood suddenly icing over.

Oh sweet gods above, you knew that name.

The Utsushimis, as any group of women on the marriage market did, gossipped endlessly about suitable members of the ton. You knew a little about most of the available gentlemen, knew who would be an acceptable catch, who would be an excellent catch, and who would be the catch of a lifetime.

Shouto Todoroki—His Grace Shouto Todoroki, that was—was the catch of any lifetime. He was a duke, about your age, who’d grown up in the very company of Princess Yaoyorozu herself. He was rumored to have fought for her in the very War for All you’d been jesting about, and he was also rumored to be the only suitor being seriously considered for her hand, when she finally deigned to marry.

There was almost no more powerful man in all the country, and you’d flung apricot cakes at him!

You grasped the wall, suddenly feeling woozy.

Lord Shouto made a noise of concern, and the fingers around yours tightened.

“Are you well?” he asked.

You quickly steadied yourself, tugging your hand out of his.

“I–yes,” you said hastily, cringing at how strangled the words had come out. “I really must go, my lord.”

With that, you flung yourself towards the door, tearing it open as though the devil himself were behind you. You winced as the light of hundreds of candles seared your retinas.

You couldn’t help but take a quick glance back at Lord Shouto, which turned out to be the worst mistake of your life. In the candlelight from the door, all his features were suddenly thrown into clarity–and he was the most horribly beautiful man you had ever seen.

He was tall and packed with lean muscle, and had a face like a Greek sculpture—the kind the very Ancient Greeks you were so beginning to loathe would have carved. His eyes were bright and mismatched as you’d thought, his mouth soft and sensuous, and his collar points framed a strong, handsome jaw.

You barely allowed yourself enough time to take in his distinct mop of two-toned hair, before you bit out something strangled and fled, back into the ballroom.

Back to safety.

It was unbelievable luck that no one seemed any the wiser to your escapade as you returned, your nearly-empty glass of lemonade providing your excuse. You slotted yourself in between Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi and returned to fielding invasive questions, trying to calm your nerves.

You resolved to put all of this behind you, and stay in line for the rest of the season, lest you run a risk like this one again.

You would be good, and you would keep Camie and her family’s reputation clear.

And yet for the rest of the night, you couldn’t help that feeling that a pair of eyes was watching you. And you hoped desperately that you hadn’t already ruined things.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x you #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x you

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eris-snow · 1 month

Note

heyy! I was wondering if you could write monoma x reader dating hcs/monoma pining (or any other ideas you have for him). Not sure if you even write for him (and if you don't please feel free to disregard this request!) Tysm if you *do* decide to write this and have a very wonderful day!!

Author’s note: Honestly, I don’t know how to write Monoma and he isn’t one of the characters under my radar, but I really wanted to try writing him, so thanks for sending in this request! (This was something I instinctively wanted to turn into a oneshot for some reason, so I enjoyed writing this request!)

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Monoma doesn’t really know what he’s thinking when he fell for you.

He swears that he wouldn’t if he could, because dammit of course he has to choose someone insanely out of his league.

It’s not even your looks, it’s how you carry yourself.

Your mannerisms, your aura, all of that makes him gravitate to you so easily it scares him.

He’s so overwhelmed by your entire aura that his default words to you are all insults.

He’s a carbon copy of Bakugou, wrapped in a different outer package for purely the same reasons.

It had taken a long time for you to get into the status of ‘friends’ during third years, and Monoma will forever wonder just how he did it and why you took him in

He knows he’s an ass, he knows he’s insufferable, and he knows your friends hate him.

Shiny, attention-grabbing Class A, he secretly wishes to be one of them, one of you.

He’s working hard to strive for excellence, but every time he looks at you, you’re somehow already 12 steps ahead of him.

It’s what makes him hate you, but love you so much.

Like an onion, Monoma has layers upon layers of himself. Bit by bit, you end up peeling them and getting small glimpses of what he really thinks under the bravado and the slander.

You learn that when he’s crude, he’s twice as hard on himself. You learn that when he seems arrogant, he’s the biggest critic on himself.

You tell him that his Quirk is freakishly awesome, and validate his hard work.

He shakes his head, so you say it often, daily, frequently. Because then, you hope that he’d know that at least one person has seen his blood, sweat and tears shed.

Your relationship is an exploration. Everyone has a side that others don’t know about, and just as you discover his vulnerabilities, he discovers yours.

Your perceptiveness is sometimes a curse rather than a blessing, and your sensitivity often a poison rather than a tool.

Woven between your good traits are double-edge swords that paint you as more insecure of yourself than he thought.

You’re a human, not a character, he’d say. You might have flaws, but in his eyes, you’re perfectly imperfect.

Dating is a very natural shift. Good cop, bad cop. Angle, Devil. He knows what he plays.

But still, he doesn’t really think it’s so bad. After all, who cares what hordes of critics he doesn’t give two shits about says about him when you, the sole person who sees him as who he is still believes that he’s good?

Transparent, layers unveiled, in tears, with facades, splintered dreams, shattered hopes and ambitious, longing desires: You’ve seen it all.

He boos your class once more and sees you sigh, giving him a crooked smile—imperfect, but still beautiful—like he’s a children’s book with big, bold letters on every page.

Yeah, fuck everyone else. All he really needs is you.

#mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #monoma neito #bnha monoma #monoma x reader #bnha #neito x reader #monoma x y/n

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class-1b-bull · 8 months

Text

Rating class 1Bs casual/daily wear!

Awase/Sen

Awase - 8/10 his fit is a vibe but I wish his jacket was either a little longer or a little shorter because its in a weird middle place. Also he looks weird without his headband ngl

Sen - 9/10 pretty good fit. Kinda basic but I think it works well for him I dont rlly like the shoes tho

Kamakiri/Kuroiro

Kamakiri - 10/10 no words need to be said his fit is amazing and he looks great in it

Kuroiro - 9/10 minus a point because it would be better with some jewelry in my opinion

Kendo/Kodai

Kendo - 10/10 the shoes are a little weird but it somehow makes the fit honestly. Love it.

Kodai - 10/10 I love when people wear turtlenecks and overall she looks nice

Komori/Shiozaki

Komori - 10/10 she gorgeous, it fits her character, its unique and I love it

Shiozaki - 10/10 I feel like im giving out too many ten outa tens but they all look so nice!

Shishida/Shoda

Shishida - 9/10 very classy and I like the look but if it was colored I feel like it would be very monochrome-y ykyk

Shoda - 9/10 something in the fit is bothering me but I cant tell what rip. Looks good tho!

Pony/Tsubaraba

Pony - 10/10 she looks so good! It fits her personality and overall is a nice outfit

Tsubaraba - 8/10 minus two points because its kinda bland and I have unironically wore this exact fit multiple times so

Tetsutetsu/Tokage

Tetsutetsu - 8/10 I dont really like the shoes but the rest of the fit is pretty good!

Tokage - 9/10 shes beautiful and her outfit is too but it doesn't look like she has socks on

Manga/Honenuki

Manga - 9/10 i like the fit but how tf does his hat stay on if hes 2D?

Honenuki - 8/10 hes standing like a toddler that just got put in time out or like a final boss in a game or something lmao. Anyways good fit but there one or two little things that bugs me

Bondo/Monoma

Bondo - 6/10 his undershirt looks annoying and those types of jackets are loud as fuck

Monoma - 3/10 dont get me wrong the fit is nice but its really disappointing after seeing his hero costume yk? Im not expecting him to walk around in a full blown tux but this is just a shirt and shorts?! Wheres the flair?!

Reiko/Rin

Reiko - 9/10 she looks amazing but her shoes are non existent (and so are her feet apparently)

Rin - 9/10 I love the look all the way through but the shoes hurt my soul. They look like those shoes people wear at lakes. Water shoes i think their called? Idkidk.

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tabbyrocks · 9 months

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as much as i love monoma, and am SO happy to see him getting some of the spotlight he deserves, i am SO scared that hori is just going to make his character revolve around bakugo. one of my favorite things about monoma is how much he hates him, and picks on his flaws, BECAUSE HIS FLAWS NEED TO BE PICKED AT. I don't want bakugo dying for like 5 minutes to completely change monoma's veiw of him / give him a "newfound respect" for him because THATS BULLSHIT. I cannot stand hori trying to force respect or admiration of a quirk discriminator onto victims of quirk discrimination. if monoma KNEW how horrible bakugo used to be (and we know he already doesnt like him because hes a fucking asshole) he would literally despise him, because people like bakugo were the people who told monoma that he would NEVER be good enough.

#anti bakugo #anti bakugou #anti bakugo katsuki #monoma #monoma neito #neito monoma #i do not like the writer of mha #stop fucking up my favorite characters #just let him be traumatized from all the death please #like at most make him respect izuku more #im just saying that because im a monodeku shipper #both of their characters are getting fucked over by bakugo #i fucking hate bakugo #monodeku trauma twinsies lmao

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nenchainzz · 9 months

Note

//nsfw warning!

thirsts are open so im wondering, what guys do you think just absolutely looove cockwarming and find it really really hot? like they can't get enough of their partner sitting on their lap and squirming around feeling so full. eventually just giving in and fucking them til they see stars. always wants to stay inside after a round for at least a little bit bc it just feels so good, especially if its after a creampie. idk if its considered a kink but if it is its probably my fave LMAO

OOOOOOOOoooooo I completely agree, anon, cockwarming is sooo 🫠😵‍💫

Here are some characters that I think would loooovvvveee cockwarming:

Do the cockwarming as a way to tease you and embarrass you before fucking you oh, so well

-- Ayato Kamisato, Heizou Shikanoin, Pantalone, Kei Tsukishima, Illumi Zoldyck, Suguru Geto, Neito Monoma, Marius von Hagen, and Shuji Hanma

You sit on their lap with their cock nicely inside while they're getting work done, and after will perhaps reward you

-- William Afton, Albedo, Alhaitham, Baizhu, Pierro, Zhongli, Kenma Kozume, Welt Yang, Kento Nanami, Shota Aizawa, Albert Wesker, Vyn Richter, and Kusuke Saiki

Cockwarming with a hint of exhibitionism, with you secretly cockwarming them (maybe with pride coming from them as well) ((like some have you cockwarming them during an important meeting 🤭)

-- Sae Itoshi, Douma, Muzan Kibutsuji, Chrollo Lucilfer, Kai Chisaki, Kyoya Ootori, Mikey Sano, Shuji Hanma, and Wakasa Imaushi

#\^o^/ Answered!!#anon #anonymous #ꈍᴗꈍ Needing Water #blue lock x reader #demon slayer x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #genshin impact x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #my hero academia x reader #ouran high school host club x reader #resident evil x reader #tears of themis x reader #the disastrous life of saiki k x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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bibibbon · 2 months

Text

MHA chapter 416 (rambles)

Ok so this was like mainly a conclusion chapter for many characters and I guess I like that we are getting clarity on what's going on with some of the characters.

This chapter definitely gives me some very mixed feelings I feel like it's one of the best chapters horikoshi has produced in a long time if we exclude whatever is going on with Izuku and shigaraki.

There are still some things I definitely do dislike in this chapter which are:

The overall dismissal of izuku in general by other characters. Like no offense but I feel like we should of seen more people being worried for izuku instead of dismissing their worry and being like oh Iam not putting my faith in him or something because what do you mean you're not worrying for a 16 year old who has to fight an insane psychopath killer?!?? I still hate how momo dismissed this like wasn't 1A's whole objective when it came to getting Izuku back in the vigilante arc was because they were worried and scared for him?!?!? What happend now it makes no sense?!?!? Also i still hate momos atrocious hero costume

Ochako and Toga's character conclusions?!?! Like excuse me what's going on where is toga how is she not in the picture at all if the whole point was that she sacrificed herself for ochako and layed their dying next to her now she is nowhere to be?!?! People just accept it and are like oh well she has been defeated no need to worry but you do realise that she can probably cause damage if she wanted to right?!?? Also Ausi deserves better because what's going on with her she was so out of place and somewhat irrelevant when it came to this arc like seriously hori did her dirty. Also who is next to ochako in that plane ?!?! Am I speaking to early and that could be toga or someone else

Monoma deserved better. Oh did monoma deserve more screentime to shine and actually do more instead he got injured and knocked out offscreen which is such a shame. I really wanted to see more of him

Lady nagant's take on izuku?!?? No offense but Iam sick and tired of characters having some wild takes of izuku. One minute it's oh he sees the good in everyone and he is a saint to the next which is oh he is a puppet who follows instructions to a letter and does more than he should. I still don't like kudo and his views whenever it concerns midoriya it seriously infuriates me. However, now that kudo is gone guess it's lady nagant's turn to take some of the role because hey is she saying that his pain is a good thing and that izuku has a morally grey view of villains which I cannot lie hasn't been proven at all. Don't get me wrong I love that idea but I think like everything in MHA it just has a horrible execution and I can't bring myself to like it. Lady nagant deserves better characterisation then this

This chapter was a 50/50 when it came to the character if Eri. I absolutely adored her interaction with Kota and I find them absolutely adorable also at least ectoplasm is doing something and didn't let the girl run into the battlefield which is good enough (bare minimum). However, it still feels all icky that the heroes used her or well tried to utilise her anyway even if it's with good intentions or whatever the fact that they tried to make her heal aizawa but she lacked energy so she couldn't or whatever. Her lacking energy also feels like somewhat of a horribly introduced plot point because wasn't the whole problem she had when she came to UA was that she had a lot of her quirk built up and shouldn't the power in her horn be enough rewind aizawa into a week back in time like ?!?!! She couldn't be lacking that much energy it makes absolutely no sense to me. Also dam it's sad that Eri is out here being the only one worrying for izuku. They deserve better

Hawks and tokoyami. They deserve their win section I love them and their dynamic just wish the series could of given us more when it came to them seriously the wasted potential the wasted dynamic and tensions get me

The ending of the chapter?!?! Why is izuku in his uniform what happend?!?! I still don't get how they're merging into one person or one entity with different and same memories. Also why is this all about shigaraki like they're sharing memories so why aren't we seeing Izuku's memories this feels iffy to me. The dfo truthers have risen but tbh I don't see how this can benefit izuku in anyway and why does izuku have to watch the shimura family murder. Also if izuku is in his uniform does that mean he has become part of the memory did they do some space jumbo thing where they time travel and now they're changing fate and reality or some shenanigans like that?!??? The kotaro and tenko parallel hit tho that was good but other than that this whole Izuku's Nd shigaraki fight falls flat it's really such a disappointment and disaster to me.

I LOVE THE CONTRAST BETWEEN THESE TWO IZUKU'S. I also adore his relationship with eri I wish we got more of them!!!

#mha critical #bnha critical #mha #hori is a bad writer #horikoshi critical #izuku deserves better #bhna critical #bnha #midoriya izuku #shigaraki deserves better #shigaraki tomura #mha 416 #bnha 416

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billiethepumpkin · 7 months

Text

Stuck: Neito Monoma

Kinktober Day 6

Warnings: Rated X. This content is intended for audiences aged 18 and older. If you are a minor, do not interact with this content.

Contains: BDSM. Bondage. Dom/sub relationship. Dominant reader. Male reader. Teasing. Edging. Handjob. Ruined orgasm. Forced eye contact.

Author's Note: All characters are portrayed as adults because I am an old fuck. :)

There he was, tied up before you.

He had talked such a big game before. He was so confident when you said you were so needy you could top him tonight. He could take anything you threw his way, he said. He wouldn’t even whimper.

He was wrong.

Now, Monoma sat in a dining room chair, arms tied to the back of it and his ankles secured to the legs. He was stripped bare, his hardened member standing at a tension as you stood over him. Neito looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and glazed over. You walked around to his back, his eyes focusing on your every movement.

At this point in the night, you had teased every inch of his body. Your fingernails had raked over every body part he had, except for the one that you knew he wanted you to touch the most. You had gotten so close before, your fingers tracing shapes just below his belly button and on his inner thighs. But never where he wanted you. “You look so pretty, Neito,” you crooned, holding his neck as he looked up at you. He looked desperate, his mouth slightly ajar. “Do you need something?” you asked.

You felt his throat bob as he swallowed. “Please touch me, sir,” he pleaded. Neito’s voice in that moment was intoxicating. He hid it well, but the small shake in his voice made your arousal spring to life. The urge to stroke your own cock through your pants was strong.

“Mm,” you hummed, continuing to circle him. You looked at him, and he looked at you. He was so good. You came to a stop and crouched down in front of him. “You want my hands?” you asked, raising your eyebrows and smirking a little.

“Mhm,” Neito answered. “Please.”

You began to trace a line down his body, starting at his neck. Your finger traced over his pecs, his nipples, his belly and his hips. You never even got close to touching him where he needed you most. You felt your own cock twitch beneath your pants, not even freed from its chamber yet. You weren’t sure if you’d get there. You hoped that Monoma would be too fucked out by then to even remember that you needed pleasing.

“Where do you want them?” you asked, your fingernails raking over his bare thighs. His cock twitched and bounced at the sensation, and you watched him arch his back. Monoma couldn’t answer. He couldn’t think straight. He forgot that you had even asked a question when your fingers reached the innermost section of his thigh. Neito sighed in frustration when you pulled your hand away.

“Hm,” you hummed again, starting to stand up. “You must not need it that bad then.”

“No, please!” he called after you when you feigned walking away. “Please, touch my cock.”

You crouched down before him again. “Say it again,” you commanded. You could feel your expression darken as you stared at his face, fucked out before you even laid a hand on his sex.

“Please,” he sighed, “touch my cock.”

“That’s better,” you responded. Monoma’s dick stood at attention before you, twitching at any little source of arousal. Right now that was you. You traced one singular finger up and down his shaft. He squirmed, arching his back and moaning out loud. Not even a whimper, you recalled him saying.

When you pulled your hand away this time, he realized that he was going to be stuck there for quite a while.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, not daring to move. Instead, you chose to watch what Neito would do. You watched as his hips shook and stuttered, trying to fuck your hand for any small amount of pleasure he could get. He would fuck anything right now. It didn’t even have to be you. It didn’t even have to be a real thing. He just needed someone, something, to touch his aching dick.

When you began to stroke, it only took a couple of movements before he was falling apart for you. He was moaning wildly, squirming in his seat, even though he could only move so much. Neito’s beautiful blue eyes were glazed over and rolled in the back of his head. You weren’t even moving that fast. This is pathetic, he thought. He should be able to take more than this.

It wasn’t long until he felt himself on the edge of his first orgasm. From the dark look behind your eyes, it was going to be the first of many. But you couldn’t hold back.You felt yourself twitch below the belt when he squirmed. You wanted him to touch you just as badly. But he was going to eat his words from before. There were so few chances for Monoma to actually shut himself up. You were going to prove him wrong.

You stopped your stroking and pulled your hand away just as you knew he was on the edge of cumming. “Look at me,” you commanded. “You’re going to look at me when you cum.”

Neito couldn’t help it anymore. Without your hand even touching him, he felt his cum spill from his dick and onto his belly. He sighed and groaned, frustrated from his ruined orgasm. It felt so good, but he was still so desperate to cum, to really cum, all over your hand.

“This is going to be a long night, Neito,” you promised, grinning up at him and standing up to walk away for a while.

Just for a while.

This work was written by Abigail "Billie" Rothenberger. Please do not copy this work on Tumblr or any other platform.

#mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha monoma #bnha monoma #monoma x reader #monoma smut #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober #kinktober #smut #kinktober x reader

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misssmina · 21 days

Note

I have this different (platonic) ships I have and was wondering about your thoughts on them since you really know the characters! I don't like shipping non-compatible characters so your thoughts on if they'll get along or not would really help!

The platonic ships are:

Baku&Camie (I feel like he would put up with her slang bc of dealing with Denki)

Melissa&Deku (They would totally [and did] geek out on tech/quirks)

Baku&Ocha (He already acknowledges her strength)

Kiri&Tamaki (They already work together with FG so I like to imagine Kiri begging Tamaki to spar with him)

Momo&Iida (With being Class president and vice, I feel like they would hang out a lot and develop a friendship that way)

Sero&Todoroki (Todoroki is pretty dense romantically and I think the same applies platonically, but Sero probably approached him after the sports festival because he found him interesting)

Mina&Jirou (Mina helps with Jirou's style and Jirou teaches Mina an instrument [I like to imagine the uke, but maybe something else would suit her better-])

Anyways! These were just some of my platonic thoughts because I've noticed how crazy the fandom is with romance and thought why not mix it up a lil with asking your opinion on them!

So I love these! I’m big on platonic ships.

But here’s the thing,

Bakugou is friends with all the girls (whether he’d admit it or not). Canonically, he gets along with them because they simply do not care about his little attitude issue. My favorite platonic Bakugou pairing is him + anyone in the rich kid club. (Momo, Iida, Todoroki, & Jirou)

Melissa and Izuku but also Monoma (If he can figure out how to stop being a dirt bag). I feel like they all geek out about quirks, especially Monoma because he wants to try them.

Kirishima and Tamaki are already sweet on each other. They both push each other to be better and Kirishima likes to take him on little introvert adventures to make him feel good. (Book cafes, walks, etc)

Momo and Iida, I feel like they get along outside of school very well, but often they’re together for things like press conferences and business meeting, same with Bakugou and Todoroki.

Todoroki and Sero are friends, but I think there’s a very specific dynamic they have. Tired friend + Snarky friend.

Jirou and Mina are BESTIES. Typical yapper+listener friendship. Can be very messy with gossip lol. They are normally who plan dorm activities (movie night, game night, birthday parties, etc). The equal opposite to their friendship is Kirishima and Kaminari.

Sero and Ojiro are best guy friends, they can talk about just calm, normal things. Low energy pals.

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cosmiles · 10 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋

➢ mha characters as american high school stereotypes

note: this literally makes me laugh every time i read it and i lowkey want to do a part 2

characters: midoriya, mina, denki, yaoyorozu, monoma

content: crack, no ships,

words: 0.6k

I. MIDORIYA — The Summer Glow Up

- ik he spent his freshman and sophomore yr being labeled as a simp even though he was just tryna be nice

- some girls in his class were screaming and hollering about how they had a boyfriend when all he asked was if they needed a pencil

- but whew that sophomore to junior yr summer did him right, giving him a few more inches and a nice deep voice

- when he came in everyone thought he was a new student until he said, “Here”, when his name was called

- now everybody and they momma be lowkey flirting with him

- got people asking him for rides home left n right and has about a million candy grams on valentines day

- poor man doesn’t know how to handle all this new attention since he still feels like the same ‘ole deku from last year :(

M. ASHIDO — The Camerawoman

- yk that person who lowkey gets the perfect shots during a fight?

- yea that’s her

- she’s always looking for fights to record and keeps a schedule of when they’re supposed to happen

- like you’ll see in her school planner “FIGHT @ 1 NEAR FIRST FLOOR BATHROOM” right next to her history hw

- lowkey almost gets suspended one day for "instigating" but gets out of it

- eventually gets tired of having to send everyone the fight and makes an insta page with denki

D. KAMINARI — Runner of the School’s Instagram(s)

- never sleep, fight, or tell him drama

- cause it’s gon on one of them insta pages

- it started with just making a sleep page and then spread like a wildfire

- got so popular he moved on to the drama and eventual fight page that he co-runs with mina

- it got so bad that people were scared to sleep in class and fights were more frequent

- the school can't do too much about it since no one’s snitched on him yet ;)

M. YAOYOROZU — The Nice "It Girl"

- basically the smarter version of cher from clueless

- minus the terrible driving and falling in love with her stepbrother

- always smells so good and will lend you anything you ever need

- just give it back to her or she will hunt you down

- takes the prettiest notes and is the first one to have her hand raised in every class

- the president of student council for all four years

- everyone knows her but she has a small circle of friends

- don’t take her kindness for granted though or you’ll get a lot of nasty stares in the hallway

N. MONOMA — The Devil’s Advocate

- def that guy that you see across the hallway that you think is pretty

- until he opens his mouth and you realize that he has a pretty punchable face

- always starts his sentences off with, “I don't mean to be that person but…” and then goes on to say some mess

- don’t expect him to help you with anything during a group project

- but if he does, you both are gonna end up fighting more than completing the project

- always has a smirk on his face and will start arguments just because he thinks its funny

- the teachers love him yet hate him

- on one hand, he gets the class to engage in discussions, but on the other do they really want to spend their prep period dragging another student off of him?

➢ thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed and don't forget that Jesus loves you, to drink water, eat some food, and get some rest :))

➢ taglist: 🫧

@megurulvr

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dashielldeveron · 2 years

Text

soulmate trope | monoma

Monoma’s route of soulmate trope.

“why did put your whole pussy into the chapter for the character no one wanted to read next???”

i want to make him pop in the microwave. next question

warnings: reader is a masochist but takes no shit. Monoma is explicitly a virgin, and it’s implied that reader is as well—but it isn’t definite. sexual material but not the actual act of penetration ("then what's the point?" delayed gratification, babey!!!). Fem reader.

~12k words

Monoma let out a scornful laugh so piercing and deliberate that it had no problem reaching your lunch table. “Fucking preposterous. Having a soulmate from Class 3-A would be so humiliating that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, let alone you, Kendo.” His laughter grew louder, sounding a bit forced, but it would have to be in order for the whole lunchroom to hear it. “Unfortunately for you. Sucks to suck!”

Jirou clicked her tongue and turned back to her sandwich, tapping you on the shoulder with a dangly earbud. “His dick must be tiny.”

You snorted into your noodles and covered your mouth. “I don’t even wanna think about his dick or anything else about him,” you said, taking the napkin that Shinsou offered you, “He’s insufferable.”

“He told me he doesn’t have a soulmate,” said Shinsou, nodding towards Monoma, “Said the math was against him, but he didn’t care too much. Said it’s better than someone in 3-A.”

“Jesus,” you said, frowning, “How much does he hate us for him to want to be without a soulmate? Worse, he’s in the same no-soulmate club as Mineta.”

“I wouldn’t want anything in common with him.” Jirou glanced towards Mineta, eating alone against the caf wall. Good. Suffer, pervert.

When Jirou got up to throw her trash away, you sighed and leant on Shinsou’s shoulder. “Shinsou, how’s your soulmate search going?”

He swallowed thickly. “It’s not. How about yours?”

“Well,” you said, scrunching up your face, “I have a soulmate, but I’ve got no fucking idea who.”

Shinsou tilted his head, clonking onto yours. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think we’d better go out to the courtyard for this,” you said, swinging your bag strap over your shoulder, “It requires a visual.”

By the time Shinsou and you had planted yourselves outside behind a cherry tree towards the back of the courtyard (strategically chosen so that you would be hidden behind bushes and hedges, far away from the stone path, just in case someone saw you and Shinsou and got the wrong idea), you hadn’t briefed him yet, due to other students stopping you on the way for your notes.

“But what do you mean you don’t know?” Shinsou let his backpack slide to the base of the tree trunk and, once you had sat on your knees, he joined you on the ground.

“I have a mark,” you said, your fists resting on your knees, “but I can’t read it. I think it’s someone’s name—I don’t think it’s long enough to be first words—but whoever it is has extremely shitty handwriting.”

“You want me to look at it?”

“Yeah,” you said, reaching for the hem of your shirt but pausing, “It’s in a weird place, so that’s why we’re hidden. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re attacking me.”

Shinsou’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he smirked. “Is it on your tit?”

“No,” you said, frowning, “but it’s near one, and it’s all scrunched up and cramped on my ribcage; to get a good look, I’m gonna have to stretch.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he said, and you lay down in the grass and pulled your shirt up to just below your bra, where the muddled words that barely spanned a centimetre vertically scrawled across the left half of your ribs.

His brow furrowed, Shinsou hunched over your chest, leaning down and scanning the text.

He squinted.

“Give me a moment.” Shinsou shifted from your side to (“Sorry about this.”) straddle you, doing his best not to put his weight on you, his hips staying high with his hands planted on either side of you.

(“Arch your back a little more?”)

He tilted his head.

“Yeah, I’ve got no fucking clue,” Shinsou said, sitting back and off of you, “It’s too small and chaotic. I think I can make out the last kanji in the second word, but it can be read as so many different things, so I can’t say anything for certain. We could go old-school: Tokoyami has a magnifying glass. I could go grab that.”

“Sure,” you said, shrugging, “You might as well.”

“I’ll be back,” said Shinsou, getting to his feet with a little jump and brushing off his knees, “Hang in there.”

Nodding, you closed your eyes as Shinsou jogged off through the bushes, and you stretched your arms above your head, waiting for the soft crack. The first thing you’d say to your soulmate shouldn’t be a critique of his handwriting, so you were tossing your mind around for something relevant that wasn’t outright rude.

At the sound of the bushes rustling, you turned to raise a brow at Shinsou for returning so soon, but as you held your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun, the silhouette staring down at you blurred not into Shinsou but Monoma.

Smile slipping away, you yanked your shirt down your stomach again. “The hell do you want? Shinsou’s left, so you’ll have to wait to talk to him.”

Monoma tossed his hair to the side. “I caught him on the way to your secret little hiding place. What were you talking about?”

“It doesn’t matter to you, dickhead.” You pushed yourself up on your elbows and then fully sat up as he squatted next to you. “This soulmate shit is supposed to be personal, so get fucking lost, Monoma.”

Inhaling sharply when you said his name, he held his index finger against his smirk. “Do you actually want me to leave?”

Bitch-ass. “Of course—”

And your mind went blank.

Monoma let out a curt laugh as he watched your realization wash over your face. “That’s what I thought. Now, lie back down for me. That’s good; you’re so good when you want to be,” he said, hunching over you, teeming with rage and gritting your teeth.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

He gave a dismissive wave. “You like it,” he said, moving to sit cross-legged, “C’mon, show me what you were showing him. Go on.”

Fuming, you dragged your shirt hem upwards, but you did it so slowly that he snapped his fingers and told you to hurry up—and you had to. How many more minutes would Shinsou’s quirk last? Five? Ten? If you could be annoying for ten whole minutes, following the letter of the law if not the spirit, then you could walk away unscathed.

(An aside: if your soulmate could have Monoma’s quirk to steal Shinsou’s quirk, that’d be hot. Tell me when to open my mouth, sir.)

Clenching your jaw, you pointedly looked away when he drew closer to your chest to look at the mark.

“Your soulmark’s on your chest, huh? Right under your—your breast,” Monoma said, propping his chin on his fist. “So, it’s visible if you went swimming. It could show.” He scoffed. “And you were crude enough to willingly show it to just some guy who’s not your soulmate.”

Your knuckles tightened around the fabric. “Not like it’s a big deal, since neither of us can read it. Let me go, Mon—”

But his brainwashing loosed you from its grip the same moment his hand dropped into his lap, and he sucked in through his teeth. “You can’t read it?”

You’re not falling for that again. You kept your mouth shut and moved to gather your and Shinsou’s belongings.

“What do you mean you can’t read it?” Monoma asked, dogging you while you shoved your stuff into your backpack.

Shaking your head, you side-stepped him, slinging your backpack over your shoulder and lifting Shinsou’s to your front.

Crowding you, he asked, his grin and tone growing to that usual obnoxious tone, “Oh, have you not learnt how to read yet? Is that why you’re showing Shinsou? Can anyone in 3-A read? Why don’t you—”

You shot him a foul look and elbowed him in the stomach, hard, and Monoma doubled over, clutching the spot and muttering under his breath.

***

The magnifying glass didn’t fucking help. The kanji were that deformed; the handwriting was that incomprehensible. Yes, it’s probably a name, since it’s two words that aren’t the same length as a standard greeting (being a first words soulmark situation). You took it to yourself to borrow notes, cycling through everyone’s handwriting in class. Yes, signatures could be way different than regular handwriting, but there are similarities.

But not in your bitch of a soulmate’s handwriting.

Going through your unmatched classmates’ notes made you hate your soulmate’s penmanship even more, because if Bakugou Katsuki can write neatly enough to read, anyone should be able to.

Nobody’s matched your soulmark.

You decided you could be a little rude when you met your soulmate, for all the trouble he’s causing you.

***

“Oh, ho?”

Oh, God, not now. You curled in more on yourself, trying to hide yourself in your hoodie and kept your eyes on Kaminari’s notes.

“Alone on a Friday night? Do you not have any friends to study with?” Monoma pulled out the library chair next to you, the legs scraping the tile, but he didn’t sit down and instead leant his weight against it so that he could loom over you. “How embarrassing.”

You ignored him. You flipped to the back of a page.

“Come, now, I don’t have Shinsou’s quirk at the moment. You’re allowed to talk to me,” he said, nudging you with his hip while he tossed his book to himself, “and you should, if you want some shred of intelligent conversation. Bet there’s not a lot of it in 3-A.”

Kaminari had really inconsistent handwriting. It was as if he had to draw each stroke completely different than he had last drawn it.

“C’mon, look at me,” said Monoma, and he slid the edge of his book underneath your chin and lifted it to direct your gaze at him.

The slow drag of the paperback against the tender skin of your neck had you swallowing excess saliva. Oh, God. Flinching away, you knocked his book out of his hand. “In case you haven’t noticed, Monoma, you’re a bit of an ass.”

“It’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing you a cavalier grin as he stooped to pick up his book, which he immediately chucked onto the notes you were studying, “What’s all this, then? History notes? Our test isn’t for…” Monoma crossed his arms on the library table and hunched to survey the papers, and he frowned. “Good Lord, why would you borrow that idiot Kaminari’s notes? He’s at the bottom of your class, which is saying something.”

You began to gather up the notes in a huff. “Soulmate stuff is supposed to be personal, Monoma.”

“I don’t understand how that’s relevant.”

“Get fucked, moron,” you said, shoving everything into your bag and pushing out your chair in a screech. “Jerk off onto those illustrations, for all I care—”

He grabbed your wrist.

Lightly.

Just his thumb and middle finger. Space in between.

You froze and stared down at it.

“Did I say you could leave?”

Lips parted, your eyes flicked to his.

“Sit back down. I’ll sit, too.”

Your throat ran dry as he pulled out your chair for you.

When the two of you were seated, he was leaning on his elbow on the table, smug as hell, waiting for you to break first, but goddamn, you were frothing with a boiled-over fury; how the fuck dare he; oh, my God.

Step one: cover your ass.

You cleared your throat and spoke softly (library hours!). “First off, how fucking dare you talk to me like that; you shouldn’t fucking talk to anyone like that. You don’t own anyone; that showed an immense amount of disrespect towards—and I know you hate 3-A on principle; that’s fine. I get it, I guess. But you can’t fucking act like that in real life towards anyone—”

“Pfft.” Monoma bit the inside of his index finger. “You like it.”

How dare he say something so accurate. Step two: proceed to cover your ass. “What the fuck, man,” you said, slapping the table, “You can’t be an asshole to everyone and claim that everyone finds it hot. Everyone just finds you super fucking annoying. Not everyone is a masochist.”

The fucker actually held out his hand to check his nails. “Like you?”

You’ve dug your own grave.

Monoma clicked his tongue before smirking. “That hesitation says everything I need to know.”

Why aren’t you covering your ass?!

“No, I,” you said. C’mon, think! Or at least look like you’re thinking! Brow furrowed, you opened your mouth and then closed it. “I was simply struck dumb by the weird direction the conversation was going. I thought we were talking about how much of an ass you are.”

“It’s connected,” he said, and he held up a finger with each hand before tapping them together. “Even before, I’ve noticed that whenever I’ve ripped your class to shreds, you’re always glaring at me, otherwise with so carefully controlled an expression—especially when I’m verbally insulting someone. You’ve gotten very good at controlling your face so that the arousal doesn’t show—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” you asked flatly.

“Because you’re projecting,” he hissed, clamping his hand on the back of your chair to get closer to you (his breath hit your face with each harsh consonant), “You’re thinking that it could be you I’m degrading in front of everyone, you who’s got my complete attention, whether it be negative or not. You’re—”

“Hold up,” you said, placing your hand on his chest and firmly pushing him away by your fingertips (before he says something that hits a bit too close to home), “Let’s back up. Say you’ll listen to me with an open mind.”

Pouting, Monoma slumped back in his seat and blew out of the corner of his mouth to huff his hair out of his eyes. “Fine.”

“First off—and I swear to you I am being honest here—when I look at you with a controlled, annoyed expression, it is because I am annoyed at you. Your running gag of making fun of 3-A is not cute. It’s a bit pathetic. It’s annoying.”

Monoma frowned. It took him a moment, but he tilted his head, as if he were genuinely considering it. “It’s because it’s horrible being reminded of what greatness looks like, right?”

You shook your head. “It’s usually at a bad time for competition, anyway, since our class tends to go through a lot of outside-influenced events that already have us pretty damn stressed. Regular school stuff feels like it holds less weight when, like, the League of Villains targeted us recently.”

He blinked. Once, twice. Then his jaw dropped. “Are you saying I’m annoying?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“But you look so aroused when I taunt you.”

Good God, you’re going to peel off your skin so that you can whack him with each and every one of your ribs. “Monoma,” you said, peeking through your fingers, “You would fucking know when I’m aroused.”

“Well, I should hope so,” he said, tapping his fingers in a rhythm on the table, “I hope to learn.”

“What the fuck is wrong with—”

“Why are you studying Kaminari’s notes, anyway? If it’s not for school.”

You sighed. Whatever. Anything’s better than talking about what turns you on. If you answer as straightforwardly as possible, maybe he’ll get bored and leave. “Kaminari has the shittiest handwriting in my class.”

“It looked perfectly legible to me.”

“Yeah,” you said, digging a page back out of your bag, “Take a gander. Take a goose. Look at this shit.” You smoothed the rumpled paper onto the table, scooting your chair noisily closer to it (he lifted his chair quietly). “It’s like the man didn’t go to kindergarten. Look at the way he forms his kanji. No consistent form. No style,” you said, gesturing with your pinkie towards a particularly egregious part, “He’s got some bulky words over here, but it gets small and tight towards the bottom, and—” You cut yourself off and scratched your forehead. “It’s still better than my soulmate’s handwriting.”

Monoma’s eyes snapped up to yours. “Huh?”

“My soulmate’s handwriting is shit. The shittiest I’ve ever seen. I can’t fucking read it. You saw.” You lowered your hand to graze the spot where it branded you. “Can’t even tell if it’s a name, or first words, or anything. I don’t know,” you said quietly. “Makes it feel like he’s so far away. Like I’ll never be able to find him, and this’ll chip away at my soul, like Tainted Love said. Never be able to—what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Monoma had started unbuckling his belt.

“Holy shit,” you said, sliding your chair away from him, “Just because I had a moment of vulnerability does not mean I’m down to fuck—”

“Look at this.” Monoma tugged the waistband of his jeans down—

“I’m not looking at your noodle dick.”

“It’s not—what kind of noodles are you eating? No, fuck, I mean. It’s not my dick,” he said, brow furrowed, lips curled inside his mouth momentarily, “but you probably won’t believe me based on my word alone.”

He’d pulled his jeans down about three centimetres—barely enough for the elastic of his boxers to show (high-waisted bitch)—and. And. And it’s your own goddamn signature, perfectly legible, you’d like to add, scrawled sideways on his hip, parallel to…to one half of that infuriating v that some guys have.

“Do we both have all of the information now?” He yanked his jeans back up and fumbled for the ends of his belt.

“Uh,” you said really intelligently.

“With that out of the way, I’d like to propose—”

“Already?”

“—a guideline,” Monoma finished as he sat back down, narrowing his eyes, “since it appears we’re both inclined to miscommunication: that we be as honest as we can with each other and tell each other what we’re thinking, in general, to prevent confusion.”

“How reasonable of you,” you said, “I hate it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I don’t,” you admitted.

“Onto other things I’m right about.” Shifting in his seat to face you, Monoma nudged your knee with his and reached for your hand—he made eye contact with you to see if it were all right, and after you nodded very slightly, he took it, your fingers curving into his palm as they both rested in your lap. “You like it when I’m a bit mean to you, yes?”

You scowled. “Hey.”

He smiled, glancing at your hands. “Yes?”

Pointedly looking away, you said, “Yes.”

“I don’t wanna do anything you don’t like,” he said, and he winced. “I thought you already knew and that you were playing into the teasing thing, so I’m sorry for how I was acting towards you.”

God. You guessed you could be honest with your stupid idiot beautiful man of a soulmate. “No, no. I’m a bit fucked up to where I think the casual bullying thing is attractive.”

Again, Monoma winced. “But I didn’t have your permission.”

You scoffed. “You hardly have permission when you try to roast the whole of 3-A—”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have sexual undertones,” said Monoma, taking your other hand and edging his chair closer to you.

“I should hope not.”

“It doesn’t.” Closing his eyes, he sighed and rubbed his thumbs over your fingers, his skin soft where you touched him. “I—I have another guideline. More like a rule.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Monoma cracked one eye open, gauging your expression before opening them both. “I’d like to keep the fact that we’re soulmates a secret. I’m not ashamed of you, by any means, but—but if everyone finds out that I’ve got a soulmate in 3-A after all the shit I’ve talked—” He grimaced, his shoulders falling slack. “There’ll be hell to pay. I know this is a lot to ask, but—”

“Sure,” you said, giving his (soft) hands a squeeze, “but I’ve got a rule—guideline—or two myself. We’re being honest with each other?”

“Of course.”

“One: lend me your moisturiser.”

Monoma laughed, the first time you’ve knowingly made your soulmate laugh. You can already tell you’re going to collect so much of his laughter like prized marbles in your pocket. You looked forward to it.

“Two: you should keep bullying Class 3-A.”

Here Monoma frowned, but before he could open his mouth, you continued.

“Three: you start bullying me—in private, though.”

He opened his mouth, a smile tugging on the corners, and he closed it again before leaning back in his seat. “All right, then, masochist. Tell me what you’re into.”

***

In the first joint training session between 3-A and 3-B since the soulmate incident, you faked an injury.

“Fucking hell,” you said, with more volume and vehemence than you would have for a normal wound, and you crumpled to the ground to grasp delicately at your calf (catching the attention of those sparring nearby). While you were shielding it from view, you ripped part of the fabric of your P.E. uniform pants leg.

Shoda Nirengeki, who’d been sparring you, rushed over towards where you crouched and gestured over his shoulder to Aizawa-sensei, who had started walking before he’d been summoned.

“Jesus Christ, Shoda,” you said, blinking a lot to pretend like you’re trying not to cry, “Good—good work.” You sniffed. “Holy shit. Your—your Twin Impact stuff is really coming along.”

Shoda’s perpetually grim expression grew grimmer. “Sorry about that,” he was saying as Aizawa stopped behind you, “Do you think you need to go see Recovery Girl?”

“Uh,” you said, glancing in what you hoped was a nervous way at Aizawa-sensei and back at Shoda, “Uh, no. No, I can keep going. Just let me—” Visibly bracing yourself, you pushed yourself up to stand, refusing Aizawa’s help, and you wobbled.

“Change out of your P.E. uniform and go see Recovery Girl,” he said, “You’re excused for the rest of the period. Shoda, let’s find you another pair to spar with.” Aizawa paused. “Can you get to her office by yourself?”

You nodded, like a student who didn’t want to show weakness. Yeah. “Sure. I’ll just—just be slow going, y’know? I’ll…I’ll be fine.”

Aizawa dismissed you, and while you felt like a bit of an ass faking a limp along the gym wall, it was a perfect balance of oh-I-don’t-want-to-bring-attention-to-myself-BUT.

Once you closed to gym doors behind you, you heaved a sigh. Hopefully, that was enough for that idiot to notice. You walked towards the girls’ locker room.

Where’s your locker, your locker—yeah, around the bend towards the back, near the showers, behind the weird island of lockers in the middle. Yours was the last one for 3-A before 3-B’s lockers started, and even then, unclaimed lockers stretched between classes—probably for privacy between shower stalls.

When the door swung open with a slow squeak, you had to bite back a smile as you took your school blazer off its hanger.

“Look who thinks she can ditch the only class we’ve had together in weeks,” Monoma said from the doorframe, judging by the sound, “but she’s not as slick as she thinks.”

His sluggish footsteps echoed on the locker room tile, and you changed your mind: you put your blazer back in your locker to skip a step, instead unbuttoning the first button on your P.E. top, starting at the collar.

“You were just begging for any shred of my attention.” Sounds like he’s rounded the island. You kept your back to him. “Well, you’ve got it. And you like it more than you care to admit.”

Oh, good start. “What are you doing in the girls’ locker room, Monoma?” you asked flatly, hiding the fact that you were unbuttoning your shirt by hunching into your locker to tug at your duffel bag zipper. “You’re not supposed to be in here. You can’t cut class without anyone noticing.”

“No more than anyone will notice you’ve miraculously been healed without going to Recovery Girl.” Judging by his shadow (flickering because of the spinning fan blades between the fluorescent lights), he placed a knee on the wooden bench behind you, and he stretched forward so that his breath brushed against the back of your neck. “But you can’t escape me.” He blew cool air into your ear, and at your shiver, he hummed. “And I believe I told you to call me Neito.”

You were pleasantly surprised by how good he was at this—but you supposed you shouldn’t be, since he’s already told you about the improv class he took over the summer. Theatre kids will be freaks and be good at it on occasion.

You tried to turn to face him, but Monoma seized the back of your head and pressed your cheek into the locker vents, not very hard but firmly enough to leave an imprint on your skin. “No, you don’t get to look at me unless I say you can. Got that?”

“Let go of me; get fucked, Mo—”

“I said—” He shoved you against the next closed locker with his other hand splayed widely across the small of your back, and the cool of the metal pricked goosebumps where it touched your bare skin. “—Got that? Can’t you hear me, babe? Or are you just that thoughtless?”

Clearing your throat, you swallowed thickly. “I can hear you just fine.”

“Oh?” Monoma clicked his tongue (a habit of his you’ve previously thought was rather vexing, but it’s since grown to be a perfect mark of condescension). “I can hear you just fine what?”

You clenched your teeth. “I can hear you just fine, dipshit.”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Monoma gripped the hair at the base of your neck and yanked, and he hissed into your ear, his face barely out of your periphery. “You fucking get off on pissing me off, but it’s not gonna pay off in the long run. It’s not gonna be long until I have you in your rightful place: in my bed or under my fucking boot. And you’ll want it; you’ll want what I give you, and I want you writhing underneath me, so teary-eyed and pitiful and overstimulated that you’ll finally puncture your ego enough to beg me to stop, and I won’t.”

“As if I’d ever beg you for anything,” you said, revelling in the way he used his harsh grip on your hair to guide your face away from the vents to prevent you from getting cut, “You’ve never had anything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah, well—” Monoma cut himself off, scoffing onto the back of your neck. “Good Lord. If that’s the truth, then you’ve got another thing comin’ to you—I’ve wanted you since before all the soulmate stuff, and now that goddamn fate has put a permanent mark in my shape over your heart, no one’s gonna take you away from me.”

You jolted in place, even though his hands roamed down to pin you by your hips. “Neito, is that—?”

“You’re goddamn right it is. You’ve—you’ve fucking distracted me when I’ve had to work harder than anyone else in this fucking school, studying not only my quirk but every quirk around me—and in you’d saunter. What the hell were you playing at? Seems like you don’t even try,” he said with a grunt, and his thumbs began to dig into the small of your back from his clutch on your hips—good pain, a delicate feeling that had your vision blurring for a second—and Monoma used his shoulder to keep you pressed against the locker, finally pressing his chest against your back (still sweaty from sparring, but his body heat was a comforting contrast to the increasingly lukewarm metal against your stomach).

Tilting his head, he rested his cheek near your uniform collar so that he spoke against your neck. “All right, sweetheart? So, don’t push your soulmate away. Even now, I’m being so patient with you, and I could be even more, offer to wait for you to give yourself to me so that I can destroy you in every way you crave. Invite you to explore together how long it takes you to break. But y’know?” His lips grazed your neck with every word. “I’d rather make you regret keeping what’s mine from me for such a long time.”

Wait, you’d been getting so into it you’d forgotten to pretend to struggle. So, you squirmed in his grasp and tried to kick him from behind. “Only in your pathetic little wet dreams are you and me—”

“Hey,” Monoma said, lifting both the arrogant voice and his chin from your shoulder, “You’re not actually hurt, are you? Do you need to go to Recov—”

“No! No, you’re doing great,” you said, and you finally got to look him in the eye, nodding encouragingly, “I’m fine; I faked an injury for this. This is good. You’re really good.”

With a softness sweeping over his face, Monoma smiled. “Thanks; I wrote some of these lines this morning.”

Fucking nerd.

He stretched to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “So, you won’t mind if I do this?” With the smug voice returning (you snapped back towards the inside of your locker), he rammed his thigh between your legs, the pressure initially on your ass before he jerked you back by the hips so that it was all against your clit—he pushed down on the swell of your ass to keep you still.

“Regardless of your meagre little excuse to get my attention, I think you are sick, but it’s not something that can be cured, can it?” Monoma brought his other arm around to wrap around you, his palm flat against your bare collarbone (he thought you wouldn’t notice his quiet gasp when he realised your shirt was unbuttoned, but he’s not subtle), so he’s keeping your back arched as he pressed down on your ass. “You’re a sick little pervert—you stay up late fucking yourself while thinking of me, don’t you? Thinking of my hands on you just like this? That’s why—”

“Wrong—”

“Oh, yeah? But you’re turned on by this now, so I know you’re fucking soaked—”

“Wrong again, asshole—”

Monoma laughed loudly enough for it to reverberate throughout the locker room, and you made an effort to elbow him, which he evaded. “Is that so? You’re not wet? Open your legs, then.”

His hand trailed from your collarbone down to just above your bra, stopping short of touching your boob in a way that matters, and you jerked away too hard and struck your shoulder against the locker. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

When he finally moved his hand from your hip around to graze your bare stomach with his fingertips, Monoma fucking shuddered. He briefly buried his face in your scrunched-up collar before lifting it to speak. “Say you hate me all you want.” He thrust his thigh upwards, lifting you enough for your toes to graze the floor (has—has Monoma fucking Neito always been strong enough to manhandle you?). “But you can’t deny the way I make you clench,” he said, and with his hand flat against your pelvis, he forced you to grind on his thigh all the way back until your ass met his—his fucking erection—

The locker room door slammed open with the handle clattering, and Monoma had clamped his hand over your mouth and yanked you into a shower stall before Asui and Hagakure could start their noisily mournful search for a piece of Hagakure’s equipment that they left behind.

Monoma clutched you to his heaving chest against the mildewed shower wall, leaning on it so that you wouldn’t have to, the hand on your hip keeping you close and the one over your mouth shaking—as it should be, you thought, since he’s got his soulmate’s ass against his cock.

The girls talked while they riffled through their lockers, each door squeaking with the movement. Once your breathing quieted on its own, Monoma cautiously lifted his hand from your mouth, and he took you by the chin to look at him, raising his eyebrows to ask if you’re okay.

His shoulders slackened from the tension once you nodded, and he closed his eyes to kiss the side of your head. Keeping his mouth near, he stared over your shoulder and reached both his arms around to start buttoning up your shirt.

***

Another day, at your scheduled meeting at a vending machine during fourth period, the two of you agreed that while the threat of being caught is hot, neither of you actually want to found in that sort of position. You both said you’d be more careful, but you’d both said it in a bit of a joking way—playing the bully and victim felt better fast and loose, you’d said, even though in retrospect, it took more than a little planning.

“The illusion of spontaneity, then,” Monoma said, attempting to roll his can of peach soda down his upper arm to pop it in the air with his elbow—you caught it from hitting the ground.

“Still,” you said, deliberately placing the soda back in his hands rather than risk his dropping it again, “I worry about how much of your time you spend planning for this stuff. All I’m doing is reacting, while you basically have to have a script.”

Monoma shot you a toothy smile while he plugged a couple of 50-yen coins into the vending machine for you. “More like an outline. It’s not too bad.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and leant against the machine while you punched in your selection, and over the whirr, he said, “Makes me get better by trying over and over again. And I’ll keep doing it over and over again, so long as it makes you happy.”

“Oh, it does,” you said, bending down at the kerchunk to reach into the flap, “It really does.” You stood back up and snapped your fingers. “Oh, yeah, I finished your stupid-ass Franco-Belgian comics, but they’re in my dorm; I’ll get them back to you after dinner.”

Monoma’s soda hissed when he opened it. “And are they as stupid and ass as you thought?” he asked with an easy grin.

“No, considering I figured all of them were going to be like The Adventures of TinTin. Not the best starting point, Neito.”

He shrugged. “It’s the one with the most international fame.”

“I’ve been meaning to read Persepolis for a while now; I didn’t know it fit into that genre. I liked that a lot. Chlorophylle is charming, but I’m not sure I get all of the dated satire. Yoko Tsuno is fun; that, uh—that Rahan one isn’t as good as you think it is.”

“What are you talking about? It’s hilarious. You get to see the process of discovery.” He took a swig of his peach soda too quickly and choked a little, like an idiot.

“Thirteen was interesting,” you said, unscrewing the cap for your strawberry soda and paused so that it wouldn’t bubble over, “Do you have the other volumes?”

Monoma wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Baby, I’ve got them in the original French, if you like.”

“I do not like. You’re a freak,” you said, smiling down at your soda bottle, “I barely speak this language, and you’re stupidly talented enough to read—”

When Awase rounded the corner and walked down the hallway towards the two of you, Monoma visibly floundered for a split second before launching into his (clown) routine.

“Every single day proves me more and more right that no one in Class 3-A has any taste,” he said too loudly, gesturing wildly at you and spilling his own soda in the process, “I mean, come, now. Strawberry? It’s not even a berry. It’s a pseudocarp.”

Get the man a clown nose; now you’re having an argument over food.

“Your mom’s a pseudocarp,” you said as Awase passed by, hesitated, and turned back.

“Is this idiot bothering you?” asked Awase, stepping slightly between you and Monoma.

“Always,” you said, tossing your hair the best you could and spinning on your heel to go to class.

***

You put more strategy into organising a girls’ pool volleyball game than you did for most of your practical hero assignments. Once the sun had gone down, the girls of the hero course would have a no-boys-allowed volleyball game in the school swimming pool as a reprieve from the stress of schoolwork and internships, even getting permission from Aizawa, Vlad King, and Nezu to ensure it’d be okay. Conveniently, a certain mouthy bitch would find out about the competition between 3-A and 3-B, and he’d sneak into the pool area to support his class to defeat 3-A. And oh, no, he’s the only boy at this girls’ event, and so his punishment would be to pack up all of the volleyball equipment with you at the end of the night, therefore ensuring a carefully crafted “public” moment of a bully and his victim he’s secretly in love with in a situation that has the illusion of possibly being interrupted but in actuality is quite private, since everyone has worn themselves out from the game and is eager to get the fuck back to the dorms.

Unfortunately.

By the time you’ve finished tying the net across the water, several boys from both classes have trickled into the pool area. None of them arrived together, each of them clearly having the same idea of being the only boy surrounded by girls in swimsuits, and now they were bitterly glancing at each other out of the corners of their eyes. Hell, Kirishima was even here with Mina’s support, since she convinced him to do the heavy lifting—which they showed up too late to do, so you’ve already done it.

Now you regretted telling Shinsou to stay away even after his offer to help set up, because you’d like some sanity amidst, like, Mineta and Kaminari not even trying to be discreet.

When Monoma walked in with his fruity little towel over his arm, he gasped way more dramatically than the situation called for, but at least he didn’t say anything to further embarrass himself. He pouted all the way to his pool chair (good boy; he’d recognised your towel and bag to set up next to your chair in the far corner), where, even from the table at which you were arranging carrot sticks and sour candy (a balanced diet), you scouted out his battered copy of The Return of the King and the next volume of Thirteen when he plopped them at the foot of his chair.

You got Kendo to shout out the rules for the invading group: “First off, our snacks are off limits. Second, you don’t play our volleyball game, and if you say anything about it, it had better be only positive encouragement. Get in the pool, sure, but stay away from us.” That was a nice touch of hers, since the pseudo-volleyball court took up most of the pool; the guys would have to be scrunched up together near the far edges.

During the volleyball game, outside of your vain attempt to channel Oikawa Tooru, you did a quick headcount: you’ve accidentally involved around 25 people in your plans to make out with Monoma later. It struck you that with all of the people out here, it might genuinely be less of a risk to just kiss him in the common area of one of the dorms at this point.

“Oof, ouch, my bones,” you said to Mina, “My arms are starting to ache. Put me out, coach. I’m gonna go sit for a few minutes.”

Mina sent a playful splash your way. “That’s fine! Try to enjoy your break the best you can—though you might wanna move your stuff! It looks like Monoma’s camping out next to you.”

You could make her laugh harder if you let her know he’s your soulmate. “I was there first. I’ll make him want to leave.”

She waved you off, and you climbed out of the pool, water sloshing down your body to the concrete as you approached your pool chair.

Monoma—what a cute moron—had adjusted his chair so that he could lounge back while he read, and he was wearing sunglasses despite the sun having gone down long ago. As you wrapped your towel around yourself, he shut his book and rested it on his raised knee.

“You gonna get me some sour gummies?”

“Get them yourself,” you said, squeezing water out of your hair, “I’m exhausted.”

His lower lip jutted out. “Kendo said boys have to starve themselves.”

You laughed through your nose. “If the other guys hadn’t had the same idea to show up, you could have probably weaselled away the whole bag by now.”

“With the other guys here—” Monoma made a noise as if to spit in their direction. “—I don’t like the way Kaminari looks at you.”

You actually laughed this time. “Kaminari looks at everyone that way.”

“Yes, but,” he said, scratching his cheek, “you’re the only one that matters.”

You narrowed your eyes. How sweet. “You can’t mean that it doesn’t matter if he pervs on someone, so long as it’s not me—”

“God, fuck—you know what I mean,” he said with a loose wave, “I was trying to be romantic and gallant, but if you’d rather talk potentially problematic subtext that I didn’t even mean—”

“I don’t; I’m so fucking tired.” You brought your knees to your chest, your toes dangling off the edge of your seat. You brought your towel over your head so that it was more like a hood you could hide under. “There are way too many people.”

Setting his book aside, Monoma sat fully upright and crossed his legs. “You need to get out of here?”

“I can’t,” you said, groaning, “I’m in charge. It would be mean of me to slack off and make someone else clean everything up.”

He shot a look towards the pool and back at you. “Why don’t you take a nap until it’s over, then? Here, take my towel. Use it as a blanket—” He tossed it to you. “—and I’ll make the excuses. Say you badgered me for it and that I’m not leaving without all my stuff. And then I can help you pack it all up once everyone’s leaving.”

Unfolding his towel in your lap, you blinked blearily at him. “You won’t mind that we won’t get to…?”

“Nah. I’ll be fine. Another time.”

“Okay,” you said, curling up on your side away from the crowd and tucking both towels around yourself, “Thank you.”

You heard him hum as he flicked a page of his book.

When Monoma shook you awake, you rubbed sleep out of your eyes to reveal a silent, empty pool, the volleyball net already rolled up beside the water and the snack area already ferreted away.

You covered your yawn but spoke through it. “What—who cleaned—”

“Kirishima helped me take down the net, and he and Mina took care of the food—except for a bag of sour gummies I have successfully commandeered,” he said, “But you have the key to the room where the net goes, so they’ve all left once everything else was done. And lucky you—you missed when Ashido took the video to record the event on the third years’ twitter account, so you didn’t have to be humiliated for posterity.”

Well, it appeared they volunteered to help and being caught on camera wasn’t always fun (especially with Mina’s unreliable camerawork), so you elected not to feel guilty. “You didn’t wake me up sooner?”

Monoma raised a brow. “If you’re passed out on a poor chair during a fucking loud get-together, you need the sleep.”

“Fair enough,” you said, sitting up and reaching for your bag.

“Oh?” Monoma was saying as you wadded up both towels and shoved them inside. “You don’t plan on getting wet again?”

“Not when I’m already dry—oh. I see.” Stifling another yawn, you pushed on your knees to stand. “Sure. Not as intense as we planned, please, since I may collapse any second. But I guess I could get caught in the pool after hours by my school bully; I don’t know.”

Monoma yanked you back down to kiss you on the cheek before releasing your arm. “Brilliant. Go get in the pool.”

It’s probably be hotter if there’s a layer of he-can-touch-the-bottom-of-the-pool-but-you-can’t, so you climbed in towards the deep end and swam towards the middle. From your spot where your clung to the edge, you cheered when he took off his shirt, and he still rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Hot boy! There’s a hot boy on the loose,” you said as he got closer and sat down on the ledge next to you, dipping his feet in the water, “Hot boy!”

“You’re insane,” he said through a soft smile, and he tried to ruffle your hair, but you dodged it by ducking underneath the water

“But that’s part of my charm,” you said once you’d surfaced.

It was a good thing you were already in the pool, since your throat was already going dry at the sight of his stupid lean but toned chest, certain lines in muscle defined but not all of them (he’d told you he deliberately didn’t want to get super ripped like Bakugou or Kirishima, because a lot of his strategy in battle relies on agility and flexibility—and if he’s got less bulk to throw around, then it’s easier for him to recover when an opponent’s caught him off guard—something about the same thing male gymnasts did, from his perspective). Still, that just meant that he was a different kind of physically fit, and the category you’d decided he fit into was pretty.

“You ready?”

His voice broke your attention away from the cute little rolls on his stomach when he hunched over. “Yes.” You kicked off the side of the pool underwater, propelling yourself more towards the centre.

Treading water, you tilted your head up towards the night sky and listened for movement in the water, but all you could hear was the tinny buzz of the overhead lights, occasionally interrupted in their drone when bugs flew into them.

Two fingers grazed your spine before you knew it. “Wha—Neito,” you said, spinning around in the water and frantically searching for an escape route before he could crowd you, “What are you doing out this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice taking on that icy, patronising tone, “It could be trouble if someone knew you were out after curfew, sweetheart, and I know you’re depending on Aizawa’s recommendation to get into that agency soon. So, let’s not make a scene while we’re here. We wouldn’t want anyone else to find you. You’re lucky it’s only me, who won’t share his playthings.” Monoma kept his face close to the water and swam to your side, getting behind you before you could even register movement.

“You don’t—you don’t have to do this,” you said in what was hopefully a choked-up sounding way, your breath hitching as his hands drifted down your sides to grip your hips from behind, “We could just—we could both just walk away! Say we didn’t see—”

“No.” He tapped his fingers on your hipbones while his thumbs dug into the small of your back again. “Why would I sacrifice a chance to—stop squirming—to discipline you for how you behaved—”

Once you kicked out of his grasp and began to swim towards the shallow end, you figured he’d manhandle you back into his arms, but Monoma remained in his place and called your name with enough wrath to froth over.

He spoke with a controlled, quiet fury. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You hesitated just before the pool steps.

“Turn around.”

Looking over your shoulder, you met his scowl before turning fully.

“Either you come back here on your own, or I make you.”

Ohhohoho, hot. You took more time than you normally would have in returning to him, and you took his hand when he extended it to you, your own shaking.

“So, she can be good when she wants to,” Monoma said under his breath, “Not that she’s been good at all today.” Dragging you closer to him, he gripped the back of your neck to make you look into his eyes. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”

You sniffed and glanced away for effect. “I—I don’t know what—”

“I—I don’t know,” he mocked, and he moved his hand to squeeze your cheeks, your chin in his palm, “Do you know how much those other guys were looking at you? No? Answer the fucking question, sweetheart.”

While you struggled to shake your head, Monoma squeezed again, his thumb and middle finger forcing space between your upper and lower teeth.

“Care to explain why you chose to wear such a tiny little swimsuit—”

(It’s really not. It’s a two-piece that completely covers you, including your stomach, and even has a little skirt, but you can guess where he’s going with this.)

“—that could be tragically lost at any time?” And yes, he’s going for the first tie at the back of your neck, and he tugged it loose, flipping the strands to the front so that the fabric fell enough for the top of your boobs to show. “You’d think that you want any sadistic voyeur imagining how you’d look out of your swimsuit to touch you—”

“But—”

“Hold still for me.” He reached for the second tie. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, hm? Because,” Monoma said, yanking your top off and chucking it off to the side, where it struck the concrete with a wet plop, “we can’t have…have you…”

You caught a visible moment of genuine affection sweep across his face as you squished your boobs against his chest, hugging him tightly while checking the surroundings again in case someone else saw your nipples—even him, considering this is going to be his first time seeing them bare.

He guided your chin up to face him, his lips so close you could feel their heat. “Well, aren’t you suddenly such a good girl?”

And that got heat spreading across your face and ears; you made feeble efforts to jerk your chin away, but he held it steady.

“You’re taking it so easily, even clinging to me. Bit suspicious, yeah?”

“No,” you said, finally ducking your head, “I don’t want anyone else to see me, and I’m nervous, anyway.”

As he guided you backwards towards a corner of the pool, his eyes lit the fuck up. “Anyone else? Is my prideful little baby admitting that it’s okay if she gets manhandled and shoved around and spat at, so long as it’s my hands doing it? You don’t want to be passed around like a common whore?”

As he situated the two of you in the corner, he took a glance towards the doorway and adjusted himself so that he’d block the view of whoever may walk in. Monoma waited until you’d mumbled out no as an answer.

“It’s only me? How embarrassing.” His grin stretched widely across his face, his teeth cutting into his lower lip. “You only have to focus on me, babe, because if anyone tried to take you from me, he’d see that mark, my name already branding you until the end of time. Hey,” he said, relaxing his grip on you a bit, “let me see?”

You dropped your arms, backing into the corner as far as you could go, and his eyes fell half-lidded and down to your boobs.

The fucker sighed dreamily.

When he raised a tentative hand to rub his thumb over the soulmark, he fucking sighed again.

Since your nipples had the time to harden due to the cool of the night, instead of, like, his touch, you asked, out of character, “Are you gonna do anything about it, screwboy?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” said Monoma, shaking his head, and he got back into it. “But they won’t even have to see the soulmark to know you’re mine; when I’m through with you, you’ll be so marked up with hickies and bruises—maybe a slap mark or two—that they’ll know you’re not theirs to touch.” He cupped one of your boobs and gently pinched the nipple of the other, rolling it between his fingers, and he took a moment to kiss you—open-mouthed and insistent, a soft sort of greediness as he took your lower lip into his mouth, and he couldn’t hold back his fully fledged moan when you raised your leg to keep his hips pressed to yours to grind against him underwater.

“I dare you to tell me to stop.” Monoma kissed down your throat, being wet on purpose, and he got all the way down to just above your nipple before he stared up at you with that idiotic grin. “Ooh, she can’t, can she?” He let out a laugh, the heat suffusing over your boob. “It’s okay, baby. I know you can’t help it.”

Monoma took your nipple into his mouth and sucked, and you scrunched your eyes shut, squirming away on impulse as you pushed on his head—but you made yourself still, and you opened your eyes.

“That’s right, pretty—just look at me.” He made a show of licking all around your nipple before flicking it with the tip of his tongue. “You give me that much, and I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll give you everything.”

***

You were walking back to the dorms from a local corner shop, and Monoma was trying to have phone sex with you.

You weren’t feeling particularly sexy, bundled up in a heavy winter coat and his houndstooth scarf with your nose running from the cold, but he didn’t need to know that. He wouldn’t, so long as he didn’t hear the rustling of the shop bags.

“Wish you’d video call,” he said, panting, “You could see me, then—see me stroke myself to your voice.”

“When you start the call with a demand to ‘put the girls on,’ you lose all rights and privileges.” You had to be vaguer and quieter now that you were on campus. “Tell me more about what’s happening on your side. You close?”

“God, yes, I miss you. I need you. I swear you could slap my face right now, and I’d come all over my chest.”

You started up the path to the dorms, quietly knocking on the mailboxes for luck. “Not on me? You’re so considerate.”

“Tell me—tell me what you’d do to me, if—ah, fuck—if you were here.”

“I don’t think you deserve that, Neito,” you said, trotting up the steps to 3-B’s dorm and peeking in the windows to gauge crowd control, “Well, I’ll allow you this: I wouldn’t do or say a damn thing. I’d stare you down while you mindlessly babble about what you want me to do until you get frustrated enough to take it into your own hands.” Doesn’t look like anyone’s hanging out in the commons, so you opened the front door.

“You’d hah, have the nerve to treat me like that? You really thi—think I’d let you? Oh, sweet girl, you precious little thing, it’s a miracle you’re walkin’ around with that sort of confidence, when I co—could rip you apart at any moment.” He’s getting careless, letting the wet schlick grow louder over the phone. Must be embarrassing to share a wall with him. “I don’t always play this nicely.”

Kendo waved to you from the kitchen, but you just smiled and pressed a finger over your lips, nodding towards your phone. She gestured towards her cooking, holding out a spoonful of soup, since your hands were full.

You let her guide it to your mouth, and you took the opportunity to moan once you tasted it. You heard him inhale sharply over the phone.

You gave Kendo a thumbs-up, and she smiled, leaving you to choose whether to take the lift or the stairs. With the stairs, you risk the sound of your footsteps echoing, but with the lift, you risk the ding when the doors open.

“Fuck, fuck, sweetheart,” Monoma was saying as you shifted all your bags to one arm to start walking up the stairs, “You make another sound, and you won’t be able to sit down for days when I see you again. I’m gon—gonna fuck you the way you need, and you, you need to feel my cock spread you open, hm? It’ll be so good; you’re so good to me.”

He’s on the third floor, right? Room…what, 302? You supposed you could just follow the sounds of Some Guy Jerkin’ Off, but that leaves a lot to be desired.

“I’m—I know I’d fit you so well,” Monoma said with a grunt, the bed creaking in the background, “Someday, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, some day you’ll get that done, Neito,” you said, scanning the room numbers on the doors, “Until then, you’re just some bitch-ass virgin.”

And that’s what pushed him over the edge. Grinning, you held the phone away from your ear, listening in the hallway for the same whiny, throaty moans (boys should moan all the time, you’ve decided. It’s just too darn pretty of a sound).

You waited outside his room until he finished, and you pressed the phone to your ear again.

“Baby, I love you; God, fuck, I’m so lucky to have you as my soulmate,” he was babbling mindlessly, just like you’d said he would, “You’re so, so good, and kind, and—”

You knocked on his door.

“Shit—” You heard fumbling both over the phone and through the door. “I’m so, so sorry, but I must’ve been too loud; someone’s at my door. I’ve got to go. God, where are my pants—”

Hanging up first, you bounced on the balls of your feet and listened to the clatter going on in his room, and eventually, he, wearing mismatched clothes, swung open the door.

After a beat, Monoma frowned and crossed his arms. “I suppose you think you’re awfully clever.”

“I know I am,” you said, striding past him and setting your shopping bags on his desk, “and you were right: your scarf really does make it feel like you’re cosied up in a sleeping bag.” You took it off and laid it over the back of his desk chair. “Thanks.”

Grimacing, Monoma was already back on his bed and opening his laptop. “Well, now that you’re here, you can’t leave until you tell me what you think of my next chapter.”

“You finished it? That’s really fucking neat-o, Neito,” you said, adding the English word to piss him off. “Let me read.”

While you read the word document on his laptop, Monoma riffled through the shopping bags (crinkling a lot, you might add) for the pack of Kororo white peach gummies, and then he curled around you on the bed to peel it open.

“You’re weirdly quiet,” you said once you got towards the end, “Did I hurt your—you know I don’t really think virgin is an insult, right?”

He gave a dismissive wave. “Not offended by something I am. You’ve got to realise I just had an orgasm, so I have good reason to be all languid.”

You shut the laptop and set it on his bedside table. “Do you think—if our friends knew we were soulmates—if they knew we haven’t had sex yet, they’d be weirded out? I mean, at least in 3-A’s dorm, the school is actively providing condoms and other birth control, since the admin’s realised it’s inevitable people are gonna fuck now that they have a life partner.”

“Well, our classmates don’t know we’re soulmates, and they won’t ever know, so I don’t see a problem.” Monoma held out his arms and made grabby hands, so you lay down for him to hold you. “And I personally am enjoying the delayed gratification of the chase.”

“Me, too.” You ran your fingers through his hair (very soft from his bougie shampoo and conditioner), and he leaned into your touch. “The only person who saw me on the way up was Kendo.”

“Oh, God, did she hear you talking to me?”

“She did not hear me talking to you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I feel like you’re leaving out crucial information.”

“Perhaps,” you said, “To the best of my knowledge, they’re buying my excuse that I like the view from 3-B’s rooftop better than mine, so I don’t think they suspect I’m seeing you.”

“Good. Very good.”

“If anything,” you said, lowering your hand to stroke his cheekbone, “they might think you’re leaving me alone in comparison to the rest of my classmates. You never even copy my quirk during training.”

His eyelashes fluttered against his skin when he closed his eyes slowly. “Why would I? It’s yours. I’m not gonna take it from you.”

“But you wouldn’t take it from me; I’d still have it—”

“I respect you too much to try to use it. I don’t want to learn how to use it, because that would mean I wouldn’t need you by my side in a fight.” He pulled you closer, his body heat seeping through your clothes. “You don’t need me to share it with you. It’s yours.”

At your silence, he rolled his eyes and clicked his stupid tongue. “I don’t really have a quirk that’s truly mine, and I think that extends to my lot in life. My power depends on those around me, so if I’m alone—well. I’m useless. Which is another fucked-up reason why I like the soulmate mark so much, since—” He sucked in through his teeth. “—since I’ve never had anything of my own.”

You held your breath, and then you opened your mouth without a plan—

Monoma laughed—another marble in your pocket. “And before you can say anything about how you can’t own anyone and how I shouldn’t talk to anyone like that, I was trying to be poetic.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that, Neito,” you said, sitting up a bit so that you could cup his face with both hands, “Do you really think that little of yourself?”

He flipped his hair out of his eyes for dramatic effect, unsuccessfully. “Isn’t it cool and fun and sexy of me to need therapy?”

“Only if you actually go to it,” you said, “You don’t need to feel insecure, baby, because you’re everything I could want—even though your value doesn’t depend on my opinion of you. Let me backtrack. That wasn’t the best reason.” You lay facing the ceiling with your arms behind your head, shifting a bit so that he could get another peach gummy, and once he’d popped one in his mouth, he held another up to your lips, which you accepted.

“You’re taking a concerning amount of time to think of my positive traits.”

“It’s not that,” you said, chewing on one side of your mouth, “I’m trying to think of how to say it. I’m not as good with words as you are. Okay, listen. First off, you don’t have to do anything to be worthwhile. You’re worthwhile just existing. You’re good already. You don’t have to do anything more. You’re—fuck, I’m not good at this.” You cringed, scrunching your face up—but Monoma was quiet and didn’t interrupt. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something better later, but right now, I can’t think of anything that tells me how good of a man you are is that I wanna be around you more than anyone else. Hell, I’d rather be around you than be by myself, and I love spending time by myself. You—”

You frantically glanced to see if he were handling this well, and the idiot was lying there with a peach gummy halfway out of his mouth, puckering his lips as if to offer it to you.

You leaned forward to take it, but before you did, you said, “And I can’t get over how much Eri likes you, too, and that Aizawa-sensei trusts you to take care of her when he’s off campus. That kid is cautious around everybody, and she’s relaxed around you.” Feeling a bit foolish, you kissed him lightly in the process of taking the peach gummy from him.

Monoma stared at you, blinking profusely, like he was going to cry, while you chewed and swallowed.

“Are you okay?”

“I think you do know what to say. You’re good. Thank you. I’ll work on things, I guess. I can try.” He stuck out his lower lip. “But I can’t betray my otherwise superior exterior towards 3-A—”

“Oh, yeah? They’ll realise you’re a big ol’ softie if I tell them we’re soulmates.”

“Hey,” Monoma said, frowning, and after a moment, he tilted his head, his hair splaying across his pillow. “I have a proposal—”

“Again?”

“The most romantic one I can fathom,” he said, taking your hands and fiddling with your fingers, “Do you wanna watch Lord of the Rings? Extended edition?”

***

Out in the courtyard, the leaves were changing with the seasons.

“Hey,” said Jirou, scrolling through her phone, “It looks like Tainted Love might get parole.”

Yaoyorozu lifted her head from Jirou’s shoulder. “So soon?”

“She already got moved to a lower-security prison two months ago,” said Uraraka, reaching across the picnic blanket to the plate of matcha mochi, “So they’ve already decided that she’s not much of a threat.”

“You’re joking,” came Shinsou’s voice from your left, dropping his backpack next to you on the blanket, with Todoroki, Kaminari, and Monoma in tow. “After what she did to us? Some of us are fucking dying because of the eroding lifespan side effect.” Shinsou sat cross-legged next to you and propped up his backpack for you to lean on for back support, and the other guys integrated themselves with the rest of the picnicking group—stragglers from 3-A and 3-B after school ended for the day, a sort of tea-party-picnic mostly arranged by Yaoyorozu before exams next week.

Daring to shoot you an apologetic look, Monoma sat at a distance from you, slightly subdued as he crouched next to Kendo and Shoda.

“Yeah, my chest hurts at odd intervals,” said Kaminari, holding a hand over his heart, “I think I need to find my soulmate and get laid immediately.”

“Soulmates aren’t all about sex,” said Shinsou with a scowl.

Kaminari shrugged. “They could be.”

“But Tainted Love is getting parole?” You held your teacup between your palms, letting the heat of your raspberry tea keep them warm. “What’s the source?”

“Uh, looks like Midnight-sensei and Present Mic-sensei were in a press conference this morning about the group that she’s a part of,” said Jirou, “Midnight-sensei’s been working with the authorities on getting information out of Tainted Love, since their quirks are both reliant on inhalants—and Tainted Love seems to like her.”

“I need to talk to Tainted Love,” said Kaminari between bites of some sort of biscuit that Bakugou had apparently baked last night, “I wanna ask if there’s any way that she could, like, speed up the soulmate identification process. I can’t find mine for the life of me.”

Jirou shared a look with Yaoyorozu, and she said, “That’s because no one would claim you, even if you had a few more brain cells.”

“You misunderstand me, Jirou! Being a himbo is the basis of my appeal!” Kaminari slapped the back of his hand to his forehead and screwed up his face. “If I got any smarter, then no one would want me for me, because I wouldn’t be true to myself. Big sigh,” he said, actually saying the words, “Maybe those of us who are unclaimed should just hook up and rotate around until we feel right.” Kaminari’s voice carried across the picnic area (his dramatics made Kendo snort).

Shinsou flicked Kaminari’s forehead. “When you stop being a pig, maybe someone’ll want you. To be loved, you first have to be lovable.”

“You know, I don’t think that’s quite true.”

Everyone’s heads turned towards Monoma, looking oddly constipated and halfway into a scone, which was crumbling to dust in his tense grip. “I don’t think you have to do anything to be loved. I think—” He seemed to notice that he was destroying his scone, and he set it on his paper plate. “—I think that you’re worth loving just because you are.”

Brow furrowed, Shinsou glanced between you and Monoma. “Dude,” he called towards him, “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, Monoma. I love you, man, but you’re not my type,” said Kaminari, popping the collar on his blazer, “even though we’re both unclaimed so far. You know who else is unclaimed?” You watched in horror as Kaminari actually and literally rolled over from his spot on the picnic blanket closer to you. “Hi,” he said, staring up at you, “I believe you’re also dying due to heartache?”

Shinsou tensed next to you—and you didn’t even look at Monoma; you knew he wouldn’t want you to give anything away.

“Uh.” You glanced around for help from anyone, but everyone was also weirdly frozen and put out by this. “I mean, I am. That’s true, I guess, since I don’t have a soulmate. But—”

“Would you like not to be?” Kaminari folded his arms behind his head to grin up at you.

But a tight-fisted Monoma had already stood up and walked stiffly over to where you were on the blanket, and he knelt next to you, nudging Kaminari away with his knee. He started to unbuckle his belt.

At the clink of his buckle and soft zip of his uniform pants, the stillness overtaking everyone shattered: essentially, a collective flinch passed over the onlookers, with more than a few choice swears coming from Jirou, and Kaminari scrambled away.

“My dude, what the fuckingeth—”

Monoma—you slapped your hand over your eyes, already embarrassed—pulled down his pants enough that everyone could see your name along his v-line. “She and I are soulmates,” said Monoma, looking calmly as he could at Kaminari, “Hope that clears things up.”

His jaw slack, Kaminari glanced at the soulmark, at Monoma’s unwavering expression, and back at the soulmark. “You have your soulmark right on your cum gutters? You’re so lucky.”

Yaoyorozu had to clutch her stomach she was laughing so hard; Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose. Jirou could hardly talk for laughing, composing herself enough to stutter out, “You—you call them cum gutters?”

“Like I would know that real term.”

It was nice, since the shock and attention shifted to roasting Kaminari alive. But now Monoma was sitting next to you, staring nervously into the teacup you handed him, and when you gently bumped his shoulder, all he did was take a sip, his hand shaking so that the porcelain clattered when he returned the cup to the saucer.

“That was very brave of you,” you said softly, “Thank you for doing it.”

He hummed, still looking into his teacup.

“I guess I should congratulate you,” said Shinsou, shifting his attention away from the Does-Kaminari-Even-Know-About-Anatomy-What-About-the-Clitoris conversation, “So, congratulations.”

You squinted at him. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You were right about 3-B’s dormitory having a better view from the roof,” said Shinsou, jerking his head to the side, “but I never saw you there. I think you’ve shocked everyone else, though. Check out Midoriya over there.”

He was frantically glancing between you and Monoma, steam almost visibly blasting out of his ears as he tried to process it.

Monoma huffed, and he finally allowed himself the beginnings of a smug grin. “Well, of course it’d be surprising for such a power couple to come out of the soulmate incident. It’s too perfect.”

And when Mina started filming the picnic to post on the third years’ twitter, he made a point of kissing you in front of everyone, as proof recorded until the end of time.

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz

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