wonubby

[wonubby]

HIII so im wondering if were ever going to get a backstory on katsuki's relationship with his ex? :o IM ESPECIALLY WONDERING IF HE WAS ACTUALLY IN LOVE WITH SUCH A BITCH WHAT 🥀🥀

Hi yes I’m planning on making some backstory for kats and his ex dwdw !!

[wonubby]

obsessed - k! bakugo

2. hire someone to 'leak' crude pictures of the two of you on holiday

synopsis - despite knowing you've successfully bagged katsuki bakugou, aka pro hero dynamight, his fans are still shipping him with his ex. so what's a better way to claim him than leaving little trails of your love on him? specifically, his body.

warnings – fluffy and suggestive, bakugo death mention but only briefly.

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katsuki wasn't stupid. he knew what your plan was, and honestly? he didn't give two fucks. you were bound to reach your breaking point one day.

he actually loves this side of you. you matched his inner freak on some level. of course, he was still crowned as the 'bitch' in your relationship, given his infuriating attitude.

you, however, were overjoyed. everything fell into place.

phase one? complete. phase two? already in motion.

you and katsuki had travelled to the Bahamas for the week. it was a little getaway for the two of you since he's always busy fighting.

the first two days were spent wrapped in the sheets. the warm air creating a sexy atmosphere that kept the male going. something about fucking in the heat, getting all sweaty, and using his quirk in the midst of the act got him heated.

not that you were complaining though; you were blessed with the most amazing orgasms of your life.

anyway, today, the two of you decided it was the perfect time to head to the beach... with some secret company.

was it a bit desperate to call the paparazzi, getting them to leak pictures of you and your fiance? possibly.

was it going to make that bitch burn? absolutely.

"are you finally ready, babe?" his gruff voice called out to you.

letting out a breathy chuckle, you hooked the last earring on before facing him. "yep," you said, popping the p, "how do i look baby?" you did a little twirl, letting your frilly, leopard tankini flay around you.

smirking, katsuki placed two hands on your hips, biting his lip at the sight. "you always look amazing, sweets. but this? this makes me want to cancel our plans and keep you inside." he said, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

"well, sucks for you, katsu, because whether you like it or no, we're going out there. you can channel all of your inner fuckboy when we're on the beach." you teased, placing two hands on his chest, pushing back.

katsuki was wearing an unbuttoned white shirt with a pair of khaki shorts. his muscles were on display, including the couple of scratch marks you had left on his chest from this morning.

you placed a kiss on his lips, slow and sensual, subtly biting his lower lip as a warning. "worry less about fucking me and more about how you're going to act all lovey for the 'hidden' cameras."

"yes ma'am," he chuckled. boy did he love the new you.

walking towards your purse, you grabbed the keys, throwing them at him before heading to the door. "grab the speaker; i'm making my way to the car."

the car ride was decent. old 2010s music blasted through the window, as your hair flowed behind you, occasionally stopping to kiss katsuki during the red lights.

you were truly living life.

the moment you reached the beach, the feeling of the dry, hot sand beneath your feet had you relaxing. finally feeling like you could breathe. katsuki was quick behind you, tugging off his unbuttoned shirt and throwing it into a pile of your clothes.

"come here; let's get some sunscreen on you before you look like a tomato," he joked. you scoffed, touching his chest before turning around.

his hands slid up your body, slowly massaging the skin tenderly. your eyes snapped shut, leaning back onto his body as he began. "feels so good, kat. maybe i should make you my personal masseur." you giggled.

"yeah right, like i already don't do all 'at." he groaned teasingly.

as he continued to rub the cream all over your body, you locked eyes with the photographer hidden in the bush. a smirk crawled onto your face as you quickly turned around and faced katsuki.

"have i ever told you how hot you are, baby?" you questioned, eyes half-lidded as you looked at him with the most innocent eyes.

"hmm, no i don't think so." he raised an eyebrow in false confusion. "why? is there something you need to tell me?" his eyes trailed over your body, large hands moving from your hips to your ass.

"nope!" you laughed, running away from the boy and into the water.

"you tease!" he yelled, moving fast to reach your now wet body.

the moment he caught up with you, you were pulled flush against his body as he brought you into a searing kiss. every kiss you shared with katsuki felt magical. he made you feel something. made you mean something.

he was all you could ever ask for, the man of your dreams. you spent your childhood following him around. watching him bully izuku, win the sports festival, and even watching him die. but, during those times, your love for him was simply platonic.

it wasn't until you both bumped into each other while he was on patrol that everything changed. a few months after his breakup with amira, he had contacted you, asking you out on a dinner date. at first, the two of you thought it wasn't anything serious until you shared your first kiss together under the night sky as snow painted the pavement.

breaking away from the kiss, you smiled softly at the man. "i love you." the three words were muttered so softly he could barely hear them.

"i love you too, pretty." he smiled, leaning down and pressing kisses to your neck. tongue poking out to trace the purple marks he left the night prior.

a moan left your lips at the sensation, smiling softly as your hands dragged into your hair. the slight flash of a camera caught your eyes as you nudged katsuki with your knee. he seemed to understand the cue as he effortlessly picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

the moment became intense with mouthwatering kisses and bites being marked all over your body. it clearly gave the photographer what he needed.

"you might be as mean as i am kats. you must really hate her to be doing all this for me."

"i hate everyone. you're just lucky."

the moment you got home, the internet was going wild.

the pictures were up and everyone was going crazy. fans were trending #DYNAMIGHTBACKMUSCLES, #DYNAY/NFUCKING??? and IN PUBLIC IS CRAZY all over twitter. they analysed the way he held you, how he kissed you and, most importantly, the marks on his back and your neck. their most favourite picture was the one where the reddish handprint on your ass was noticeable.

however, the best reaction was from amira. immediately after the pictures were posted, she turned to Instagram, posting a photo dump. the said dump included photos of food, half-empty wineglasses, beach pictures from last year and an old picture of her hand in katsuki's.

the public were immediately quick to notice the types of pictures and who she posted. some sympathised with her, while others called her out on her shitty behaviour. and maybe others included you because you didn't hesitate to post a tweet.

one that read: "he said thank you for the character development. we’ll send flowers."

yeah, you definitely broke the internet.

© 2025 wonubby— All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

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[wonubby]

and he's kinda hot too it's so unfair...

[wonubby]

i currently have 14 asks and i promise u all i will get done w them after june 16th!!!! i even have a few fics in my draft so :3

[wonubby]

sun drunk and honey eyed.

synopsis: childhood memories, sun kissed skin syrupy mouths, lingering pinky promises and first kisses.

cw: wc 1.5k, izuku x fem!chubby!reader, fluff and mutual pining (heavy on izuku though)

authors note: this was a commission :) pls remember my commissions are always open and help immensely during a very tough time im currently going through. emergency comms linked here. masterlist link here.

You remind Izuku of summer— Of saltwater and laughter carried on the wind, the kind that clings to skin and never quite leaves. Of berry-stained lips and sticky fingers from popsicles melting too fast under the sun. He thinks of how you used to chase each other barefoot down cracked sidewalks, your giggles echoing louder than the cicadas, arms outstretched like you were flying, like nothing could ever touch you.

You remind him of those All Might movie marathons, the ones that stretched deep into the night under blanket forts made of couch cushions and dreams. The screen would flicker against your faces as you quoted lines by heart, stuffing your mouths with popcorn and daring each other to stay awake through the entire trilogy. You always won. He never minded losing to you.

He still wears that dumb plastic ring you gave him when you were seven—part of a "marriage proposal" you made with all the seriousness two sugar-high kids could muster. You handed it to him after making him pinky promise to always stay by your side, forever and always, and he’d grinned so wide his cheeks hurt. It was blue raspberry flavored, so you both took turns licking it until it was nothing but a sticky memory, the plastic heart now kept safe in the little box of treasures under his bed.

You remind Izuku of scraped knees and band-aids with cartoon heroes on them, of nights spent whispering secrets through tin-can telephones strung between your windows. Of the time you both tried to dye your hair with Kool-Aid and ended up staining the bathroom sink and getting grounded together.

When he looks at you now, he still sees all of that. Still hears the soft crashing of waves behind your laughter, still feels the warmth of your hand grabbing his as you drag him toward whatever adventure you've set your mind on next. The world could be burning and you'd still look at him like you believed in something better. Like you believed in him.

You remind him of everything good he ever knew before the world got hard and sharp. Before the weight of being a hero began carving into his shoulders. When the world was small and bright and all it took to feel brave was you beside him, holding a flashlight like it was a sword.

He thinks he might always look at you like that—

Like you're sunlight in human form.

Like you're the reason he keeps going when everything else feels heavy.

Like maybe, just maybe, if he keeps holding your hand, it’ll always feel like summer again.

Izuku knows.

He’s known for a long time, really—how you hold a soft spot for him. It’s written in every shy smile that tries to stay small but always grows into a beaming grin, round cheeks flushed with pink like watercolor spilled across your skin. He sees it in the little doodles you scratch into the corners of his notebooks with your colored pens—hearts, stars, clumsy sketches of his face mid-ramble or his hero costume with too many freckles. He knows in the way your knees bump his under the table, not moving away when he gets carried away talking about All Might. Or when he suddenly swerves from that and starts gushing about your quirk and how cool you are and how brave and how kind and—

He knows because even when you’re quiet, you stay.

Sometimes you rest your head on his shoulder when he talks too long, your eyelids fluttering like you’re not bored—just calm, lulled by his voice. And he’ll go still, afraid to move too much and disturb the peace. And in those moments, he can smell your shampoo—floral and soft and faintly sweet, like the petals of a garden only he gets to stand in.

Right now, it’s different—but it still feels like that. Like the calm between all the noise of the world is right here.

It’s a golden afternoon, sun bright and heavy in the sky, casting dappled shadows across the lawn. The blades of grass tickle at your bare feet, soft and green and warm beneath you. You’re stretched out beside him, your legs lazily tangled with his, your bikini bottoms peeking out from under loose unbuttoned denim shorts. Your T-shirt hangs off one shoulder, skin kissed pink by the sun, collarbones glowing where the sunlight touches. There’s syrupy popsicle juice dripping down your fingers and chin, staining your lips and tongue a deep berry red.

And Izuku is shirtless, freckles scattered from his cheeks down to his chest like constellations. His green curls are a little damp at the edges, clinging to his forehead, and his chest rises and falls in slow, lazy breaths as he lays back on the blanket, glowing under the sky.

You're both laughing—soft and breathless—over something stupid he said, some corny dad joke that wouldn’t have landed with anyone else but made you wheeze with laughter. You lean your head against his shoulder again, your cheeks sticky and warm and your heart full, and Izuku thinks he could stay like this forever.

Your laughter quiets into something gentler, something almost wistful, and your fingers reach up to tug at the edge of his hair. You’re staring at him, sun-drunk and honey-eyed, and then you glance away again—off to the sky, or maybe back in time.

“Remember that summer,” you start softly, “when we thought we could build a treehouse in your mom’s backyard with just rope and cardboard?”

Izuku chokes on a laugh, rolling onto his side to look at you better. “You mean the one that collapsed on me and you cried for like an hour because you thought I broke my leg?”

“I thought you did!” you say, half laughing, half scolding, nudging your foot against his. “You wouldn't stop screaming!”

“I was screaming because you were screaming!” he counters, grinning. “You stepped on my limited edition all might figurine trying to get help!”

“I was panicking!”

Izuku is laughing now—really laughing. His shoulders shake with it, the sound bubbling up from deep in his chest, and he rolls closer to you until his forehead almost bumps yours. His arm falls around your waist in the motion, loose and easy and too close, and you don’t move.

You never do.

And your heart stumbles a bit when he looks at you like that—cheeks pink from the sun, lips wet with melted popsicle, eyes that could catch stars in them if they tried hard enough.

The sound fades from his chest, slowly, but the grin remains. Just a bit softer. A bit shakier.

Izuku stares at you for a long second, and his heart starts doing that thing again—that terrified, aching thump like it’s not sure whether to leap forward or fall back. You’re close. Too close. The kind of close that would ruin everything if he made the wrong move. The kind that makes it impossible not to look at your lips and wonder.

He swallows, and his voice goes quieter than he meant.

“Y/n…”

Your name sounds like something sacred in his mouth. Like something he’s never allowed himself to say like that before.

You blink, gently, brows tugging just a little. “Hey, Zu… You okay?”

You brush a curl from his forehead, fingers light against his skin, and that’s it.

He breaks.

Because he isn’t okay. He hasn’t been okay since he realized you’re not just his best friend anymore. Haven’t been okay since he noticed the way your hand feels different when it’s wrapped around his wrist instead of just touching his arm. Haven’t been okay since he dreamed once about kissing you and woke up with tears on his cheeks because it felt so far away.

So Izuku doesn’t think—he prays, silently, to All Might or to fate or to whatever power is watching—and he leans in.

The kiss is soft and sun-warmed and tastes like salt and berry-flavored popsicles and summertime. His lips move slow against yours like he’s scared you’ll vanish the moment he presses in too hard, like you’re made of smoke and the slightest pressure will send you scattering.

You kiss him back with your whole heart.

When you finally pull apart, the world feels quieter. Softer.

He’s still leaning over you, green eyes wide and almost scared, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. His cheeks are blazing, his fingers trembling where they’ve curled around your side.

“I—” he starts, breath catching. “I love you. I… I really do.”

You smile. So softly it almost hurts.

You thumb over his cheekbone, gentle, tracing the freckles kisses by the sun, like you’re memorizing them for later.

“Zu,” you whisper, voice barely a breath, “I love you.”

You always beat him to it.

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath since childhood. His forehead drops against yours, and for a while, you just stay like that—knees tangled, lips pink and sticky, hearts finally, finally on the same page.

The popsicles melt into the grass. The sun dips a little lower.

And the summer stretches on, sweet and golden and full of promises finally kept.

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[wonubby]

AHHHH WHENS THE NEXT PART COMING IM SO INVESTED.

GIRLLLLLLLLL THANK U FOR BEING INVESTED I LOVE U AND um idk... im so busy w exams but maybe sunday!

[wonubby]

katsuki would be MEAN in a mating press.

[wonubby]

textbook kisses - eijiro kirishima

synopsis - between countless textbooks, twitching fingers and hushed distracted giggles, you kiss him.

authors note - this is actually based on my selfship lore! I'll link right here, hidden locket selfship scrapbook. masterlist link here!

You and Kirishima were sprawled out on his dorm bed, surrounded by a mess of textbooks and half-filled notebooks, highlighter stains and ink smudges everywhere. Both of you were trying to study for the chemistry midterm—something neither of you were good at. Usually in these study sessions, Kirishima helped you with math, and you helped him with English, but tonight it was just you two, shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing, and the silence was so loud you swore he could hear your heartbeat.

The only sounds were the rustling of pages and Kirishima’s quiet grunts of frustration, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus, red hair falling loose even with all the gel he packed into it. His brow furrowed just enough to highlight the scar above his right eye, his foot tapping lightly against the carpet like his body was begging to move.

You tried not to take up too much space, even though you were already close—too close. Usually these sessions had more people, a whole group of you gathered around some dorm common room, but not this time. Just him. Just you. And all you could think about was how warm he was beside you.

His room was exactly how you'd imagine—posters of Crimson Riot, shelves full of boxer memorabilia, the walls plastered with scribbled affirmations in Japanese, little reminders to stay strong and push forward. Manly, as he liked to say. There was a punching bag hanging in the corner, and you remembered the first time you saw it, back when you knocked on his door late one night to ask if he wanted to come watch a movie with the others. He’d opened the door sweaty, hair down, in a loose tank that clung to him, a hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage with blood seeping through.

He had overworked himself.

You ended up sitting him down and bandaging his hand yourself while he laughed nervously, cheeks flushed as he kept apologizing. If someone asked when you realized you were in love with him, you’d probably say that moment. But truthfully? It was earlier. Maybe the first time you saw his dopey grin, or the way his red eyes lit up when he was talking about something he loved. It was always him.

What you didn’t know was that Kirishima had felt the same. From the second he saw the quiet girl with headphones in, tucked in the back of class scribbling in a notebook you clutched like it was sacred—he’d wanted to know what was inside. Wanted to know you. And maybe, if he was lucky, find his name written somewhere on a page.

But now you were both here, knees touching, fingers dangerously close, and your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. You hoped he couldn’t hear it. But he probably couldn’t—his was too loud.

He groaned suddenly, tossing his pencil aside. “Man, there’s no way I’m ever gonna get this. It’s like every question’s in a different language or something.”

You let out a tired sigh. “Yeah, same. I failed so bad last time the whole test was covered in red ink and question marks. Honestly I think the teacher debated quitting after that one."

He laughed—really laughed—and you felt like you could breathe again. Like his laugh gave you life. The crinkle in his eyes, the scrunch of his nose, all of it made your stomach twist sick with love.

He looked back down at his notebook, nodding to himself. “Okay. Time to get serious.”

But you weren’t listening anymore. Your head was too loud, thoughts spinning, heart racing, and you kept stealing glances at him like you were trying to memorize the way he looked when he was this close.

Then his knee bumped yours again and you swallowed hard.

“Kirishima,” you said, voice low.

He didn’t respond. Still talking, still ranting about how chemistry was the worst subject known to man.

“Kirishima,” you said again, a little louder.

Nothing.

“Kirishima!”

He jerked his head toward you, blinking in surprise. “What? What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, eyes darting from his to your notebook and back again. You felt his body shift slightly closer as he tilted his head. “Hey… what is it?”

You didn’t say anything.

“Y/N?” he whispered, voice softer now. More careful.

The moment cracked wide open between you.

You leaned forward, hands cradling his face, and kissed him.

Fast. Barely even a second. But enough.

You pulled back right away, eyes squeezing shut in panic. Shit. Shit. Shit.

But then you opened them—and he was just staring, wide-eyed and stunned, red creeping all the way up to his ears. His lips were parted like he was still trying to catch up.

And then suddenly he surged forward, grabbing your face with both hands, kissing you harder than you expected—like he’d been holding it back for years.

He kissed you like it meant something.

And then he slowed, adjusting, finding a rhythm, one hand slipping to the back of your head to hold you steady, the other brushing your cheek, thumb making soft circles on your skin.

His lips were rough but warm, sweet but a little clumsy. It felt like kissing his personality—passionate, bold, and stupidly gentle all at once.

When he finally pulled back, he fell flat onto the bed, covering his face with both hands as he let out a sound between a groan and a scream.

You quickly adjusted yourself, And spoke. “I’m sorry—did I do something wrong?”

He reached up and grabbed your hands, shaking his head so fast his hair whipped into his face. “No, no—God, no. I’m just—fuck, I’m really bad at this. I’m freaking out. This is kinda embarrassing but, uh... I’ve liked you forever and I literally cannot think straight right now.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but he panicked again. “Wait, no, maybe that was weird. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that—”

You kissed him again.

This time slower.

And when you finally pulled away, you collapsed against his chest, both of you breathless, his arms wrapping around your waist as his fingers lightly traced your spine.

He mumbled shy hushed compliments against your skin, you giggled, both of you flushed and shaky, hearts still racing but finally—finally—on the same page, chemistry long forgotten.

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[wonubby]

so perfect - k! bakugou

cw: none, bakugou's just such a cutie! also tooth rotting fluff ^_^

a/n: wrote this while listening to she looks so perfect, if you couldnt tell

yeah, he loved you.

he's always known he's loved you. the only problem was that you didn't know. well, you kind of knew; he just hasn't said it out loud.

but seeing you in his bed, lying in an oversized shirt and a random pair of boxers you stole from his drawer, made him want to say it.

"why're u starin' at me, freak?" you giggled, looking up from your phone at the boy.

a pinkish hue scattered against his cheeks at your words, glancing away. "im looking at how ugly you are; why did i let you into my dorm again?" he scoffed, the corners of his lips turning up.

"haha, you're hilarious, kats. you literally asked me to come. now what's up?" you gave him a pointed look, sitting up to face him.

"nothing, 'm just tired." he gave a quick excuse, bashfully rubbing his hand against his neck.

squinting at him, you sigh before letting it go. "oh well, come sit; i wanna sleep and i need my furnace to keep me warm." you pat the spot next to you, slightly shuffling back.

he gave you an incredulous look. "get the fuck out of my bed. you aren't sleeping here." he grabbed your arm, pulling you up and out of the comfy sheets.

"hey! you ass, what're you doing!" you shrieked as he wrapped himself around you.

he didn't respond, only burying his head in your neck, sending tickles down your spine. consciously, you wrapped your arms around slowly, worried about the sudden change of attitude.

"kats? are you okay?" your voice was so sweet it made his head nudge your chin.

"yo... ook... so... fect.." his voice was muffled so you could really hear him.

grabbing him by the hair, you pulled him away from your neck, staring into his vermilion eyes.

"what?" you whispered. "i didn't get any of that. can you repeat it for me?"

"i said, you look so perfect."

you were frozen, staring at him in the eyes in shock. did your childhood best friend just call you perfect...?

he stepped back, gulping. "shit... sorry, i." he opened and closed his mouth like a fish, hustling a hand through his delicate, gorgeous hair.

"i really fucking like you, and you're out here prancing around my room in my fucking American Apparel underwear, and, god, you're so gorgeous."

it was your turn to blush now, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze.

"i really, really like you, y/n, and, fuck, maybe i love you? i don't fucking know, sorry-"

he was cut off when you placed your lips on his, taking his breath away. slowly, but surely, he melted into the kiss. sweaty hands pulling you into him with a need never experienced before.

breaking away, you smiled at him. "kats, i like- no. i love you too."

with a grin, he pulled you back into a hug, finally feeling at peace.

"hey bakugou!" all of a sudden, the four idiots he reluctantly called his friends entered the room.

"OH?!" mina shouted, practically jumping in her spot.

"GET THE FUCK OUT!"

[wonubby]

OH ITS NSFW NVM 💔💔💔

IM DYING. IT PROMISE ITS GNA BE NORMAL ITS JS A FIC IDEA N. I WAS GONNA MAKE IT FOR LIKR 15+ N THEN ONE THING LED TO ANOTHER HELP ME

[wonubby]

I'm actually afraid I might crash out if kats ex gets more bitchier

HAHAH STOP WHY 😭😭😭😭 im gna make her play victim but i aint gon say any more....

[wonubby]

What if kats ex really just wants us instead 😋😋

OOOOOOOO WHO KNOWS MAYBE... i plan to make her eviler throught the series so we'll see!!

[wonubby]

obsessed - k! bakugo

1. make sure katsuki leaves the house in a questionable state

synopsis - despite knowing you've successfully bagged katsuki bakugou, aka pro hero dynamight, his fans are still shipping him with his ex. so what's a better way to claim him than leaving little trails of your love on him? specifically, his body.

warnings – 17+ only, slightly suggestive, not that much, swearing, kinda humiliation, reports being disgusting

prev - masterlist - next

it wasn't normal for katsuki to be late for work. at only twenty-six years old, he managed to follow a strict schedule every day for the past five years. so yes, it was odd to kirishima when he suddenly decided to be late, especially on the day of an important meeting with well-known news reporters.

unbeknownst to him, katsuki was a little busy.

and by busy, he was making out with his hot fiancée, who had suddenly pounced on him.

"c'mon, baby, you know i need to go," he mumbled between kisses, making no action to move away. in fact, his hands on your waist pulled you even closer.

smirking into the kiss, you pulled away, nudging his collar down slightly to suck and nibble onto his neck. "mm, but katsu." a groan left him at your tone. "you do these meetings every month. just miss it and stay with me." you mumbled against his neck, a dark blotch forming on the sensitive skin.

"ya' know, i can't. fuck- you gotta let me go, doll."

his words only enabled you more, pushing his body onto the couch, straddling his waist. "you, don't need to be anywhere but here. you hear me?" slowly connecting your lips with his again, you push your hips down, clothed clit catching onto his growing bulge.

a whiny moan escaped his lips at the sudden attack, instantly being swallowed with your swollen ones. it didn't take long for him to feed into your persuasions, not that he could resist anyway.

"look at you, being all submissive under me just cause i rubbed myself on your dick a few times. whos the pathetic one now, huh?" you provoked. katsuki knew what you were doing, and those words just egged him on further.

growling into your lips, he flipped you over. your back was now against the soft pillows of the couch, with him on top of you, grinding into you even harder.

bzz!! bzz!!

the sound of his phone buzzing broke his trance. instantly pulling himself away from your compelling body, he turned his attention onto his phone.

kirishima.

his brain had been fogged with kisses and dry sex, and, until now, the meeting was long forgotten. cursing, he quickly fumbled to fix his state, not caring or even realising he had lipstick smudged against his lips and a new hickey proudly forming on his Adam's apple and that his hair was wrecked.

"you fucking minx, you really tried to make me late, didn't ya'?" he groaned, directing his glare from his phone to you.

that sly smirk made its way onto your face once more, leaning up to sit on your knees, your hands resting on his thighs. "well it worked, didn't it? you're still here, and you need to be at the meeting in 15 mins." a hand slowly trailed up, rubbing onto his bulge.

"shut the fuck up; i'll deal with you later." katsuki quickly swatted your hands away, cheeks flushed and brain, once again, slowing. he continued his journey to the door, quickly turning around to give you a pointed look. one that said, 'this aint over,' before walking out.

proud, you sat back onto your heels, a smug look on your face.

'and now we wait.'

it didn't take long for katsuki to reach the hall. he had practically flown himself over, with a few clips and photos of him soaring through the air already posted on social media platforms. some even claiming they saw him come out from amira's house.

absolute bullshit.

izuku was the first one to notice him, gasping at his appearance and nudging shoto to take a look.

"er, kacchan... are you okay?" izuku mumbled, worried by the state of his childhood friend.

raising an eyebrow in a menacing way, he slowly turned towards the green-haired male. "the fuck's that supposed to mean, deku? ya' callin' me ugly?" katsuki gruffed, narrowing his eyes at him.

"no! of course not its just, um–"

before the boy could get his sentence out, the producer called the group forward, nudging them to get out and sit in front of the public.

one by one, the boys and girls were called forward, each getting their own introduction and speech. finally came katsuki's turn. he stepped out into the air, expecting a loud cheer as usual. instead, he was met with quiet gasps and hushed whispers. he couldn't help but be confused but kept his confident facade up, walking to his seat.

you, on the other hand, were grinning like the cheshire cat. not only had you managed to send him out a mess, but he didn't even notice!

there he was, sitting in his chair, manspreading. his hand slightly veiny and twitchy, lips bruised and decorated with light gloss and hair ruffled. oh, and the hickey.

he was beautiful, at least in your eyes. the public were half convinced he'd walked out of a porno and stopped to show up to a live interview. which... was half true!

questions came and went for the heroes, none particularly standing out to katsuki, well, at least until they started asking about his appearance.

"dynamight, this one's for you!" katsuki perked up in his seat, scowl evident on his face.

"go ahead," another grunt.

with a slow gulp, the reporter stood, hands shaking. "so, as you can tell, your appearance isn't quite the best. can you elaborate on maybe what or who you were doing before you got here?" the question made katsuki's head snap, glaring at the reporter.

'the fuck did he just say to me?'

quiet chuckles could be heard from the left side of the room. "what the hell are you two laughing at? huh, dunce face?"

"i mean, sorry, man, but turning up to an interview looking like you just filmed a sex gimmick is insane. you got that afterglow and everything." denki snickerd and katsuki stilled.

'sex gimmick...?'

the scene was so comical, you could almost see the cogs in his head turning. his mind flashed back to 30 minutes prior, the way you were on him, the grinding, the kissing, the – shit.

letting out a scoff, katsuki covered up his shock with a snide remark. "yeah, well, at least you all know how good i'm getting it."

jirou and mina were doubled over laughing, izuku spat out his water, and ochako looked as if she could pass out.

the reporter deadpanned, asking another question straight away. "well, mr dynamight, how do you feel knowing you've outed yourself like this to the public, and who exactly did this to you?" what a stupid fucking question.

"what kinda question is that? tch, of course my fi-" reminding himself that your updated relationship status wasn't known to the public yet, he corrected himself. "my fucking girlfriend did this to me. who else would? and i don't give a fuck about my sex life being outright known to the public," he said, nonchalantly.

"there have been many rumours that you and your ex part-"

"next, i dont have time for this shit. It's a hero interview, not an interview on my personal life." he dismissed the reporter in a second, moving to a new topic, as someone else had asked shoto about his father.

however, you sat there, a small smirk on your face, clenching your thighs at the sight of your man.

'he is totally getting some tonight!'

© 2025 wonubby— All rights reserved. Please don't post my work as your own on any other sites.

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[wonubby]

Get Even - Chapter 1

word count: 1.8 K

cw: frat prez!katsuki x fem art sudent!reader, college AU, frat culture, alcohol consumption, suggestive dialogue, reader panic response, katsuki being petty, foreshadowed angst, strong language/frat boy profanity, Mentions of drink spiking awareness (reader expresses fear of being drugged, no actual drugging occurs), this fic will have multiple chapters!

You didn’t wake up this morning planning to go to a frat party.

You woke up planning to cry over your art history paper and maybe eat a bowl of cereal straight from the box. But fate—or more specifically, your extroverted menace of a best friend—had other plans.

“YOU’RE COMING WITH ME,” she said, barging into your dorm room like the Kool-Aid Man with lashes. “No, I’m not,” you said, barely looking up from your sketchpad. “Yes, you are. Sigma Vex is throwing the party of the semester tonight and I scored us an invite.”“I don’t even know what that means,” you replied. “Is that a frat or a metal band?”

That’s when she hit you with the kicker: “Sigma Vex. As in, the frat. The one run by Katsuki Bakugou.”

You blinked. “The scary blond guy from the engineering major?”

“The hot scary blond guy. Yeah.”

She dangled the invite in front of your face like it was a golden ticket to Wonka’s chocolate factory. Only in this case, the factory was filled with alcohol, sweat, questionable decision-making, and people with abs.

So naturally, you said no. Then she hit you with the guilt trip combo pack: —You never go out. —You’re gonna die single in a cardigan. —You owe her for the time she covered for you when you ghosted class. —And “just come for an hour. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. You can wear black and stand in a corner like a sexy funeral ghost.”

And so now—it’s 8:27PM.

You’re standing in front of your mirror, wearing a bodycon dress that you already regret. Ribbed modal fabric. Soft as sin. Hugs your body like it has a vendetta. Not scandalous—nothing’s spilling out—but you’re not exactly blending in with the wallpaper either.

You pull at the hem. Tug at the neckline. Rethink every decision that led to this moment.

Your stomach is a war zone. You feel like you’re about to be thrown into an arena where hot, drunk gladiators flex for sport and girls get called “shawty” without warning.

Your friend, meanwhile, is in your room with her hair in curlers and a glitter highlighter in one hand. “It’s gonna be fine,” she says. “Sigma Vex isn’t like the creepy frats. They don’t even allow hard drugs. The president’s a total control freak. It’s practically a regulated orgy.”

You nearly drop your eyeliner. “I beg your what?”

She grins. “He has rules. The party ends exactly at 2AM. Pledges clean after. I swear he probably makes them mop in rows. But the house is hot, the guys are hotter, and the drinks are strong.”

You don’t trust this. Or her. But you go.

Because you’re tired of saying no. Tired of playing safe. Tired of wondering what it’s like to be the main character in someone’s story instead of the silent background artist in your own.

So you step into the Uber. Adjust your dress for the tenth time. Take a deep breath.

You’ll just hide in a corner. You’ll sip something fake and sugary. Watch your friend flirt. Go home in an hour. No one’s even going to notice you. At 10:32PM, you walk into the Sigma Vex house, and the party has just begun

The Sigma Vex house doesn’t smell like weed and piss like the other frats.

It smells like cedarwood, expensive cologne, and testosterone. The hallway lights are warm and moody, the alcohol’s not watered down, and the bass is so clean it feels like it’s massaging your organs. Everything is too coordinated. Too put together.

The house hums like a hive. Controlled chaos. All neon lighting, heavy bass, and clean floors that should absolutely not be this clean for a frat house. No drugs, no vomit-stained rugs, no weird stains on the couch (well… not until later). Pledges clean with military precision, and the house parties? Legendary.

This is a party run by a man with a schedule. A mission. A code of conduct.

You’re not supposed to be here. You're very sure of that.

Now, standing here in the corner of the living room clutching a soda in a death grip, you’re watching chaos unfold with terrifying precision. Shirtless guys shouting over pong. Music blasting. People dancing in the dark like they’re in a music video. And not a single illegal substance in sight.

You hug the red Solo cup tighter in your hands—not because you plan to drink it, but because it gives you something to hold. Something to do while you stand awkwardly in the corner of the Sigma Vex living room.

The music is loud. You can feel the bass in your chest like your ribs are its personal drum set. The lights are dim and tinted gold-red, bouncing off bottles and glitter eyeshadow. It smells like sweat, spilt vodka, and expensive cologne that’s fighting for its life.

People are dancing in the middle of the room—no, grinding. Writhing. Some are already pressed so close you wonder if their zippers are about to declare war. There’s a girl literally straddling a guy’s thigh to the beat of a Drake remix. Someone in the kitchen yells “CHUG!” followed by a violent round of coughing and cheering.

You see a game of beer pong in the back. Someone’s making out on the damn couch. Like heavy. His hand’s already under her top and nobody around them cares.

You feel… Like a deer in a frat-lit headlights. Like you accidentally walked into the wrong simulation.

Just you, standing awkwardly in a dress that hugs a little too tightly in all the right places, abandoned by your friend who disappeared somewhere upstairs to swap spit with a tall dude in a backwards cap who looks like he says “bro” unironically, who called her “shortcake” three minutes into meeting her.

You're alone, and you're ready to leave. And then—you feel it.

That static prickle across your skin like the air shifted. Like someone just flipped the tension dial in the atmosphere to oh no.

You glance up—and that’s when you see him.

Blond. Piercing, scarlet eyes. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a black fitted Sigma Vex shirt like it was custom-sewn to worship his muscles. He’s walking through the crowd like a lion who knows the other animals will move.

Katsuki Bakugou.

The legend. Sigma Vexes frat president. The reason half the campus has a gym membership they don’t use.

You’ve seen him before—at a distance, walking out of the engineering building like he owned the sidewalk—but you’ve never been this close. And now he’s looking at you. Like really looking. Your brain short circuits.

He steps up, casual like he wasn’t just stomping through the house like a general five seconds ago. Hands in his pockets. Piercing eyes trailing over your dress like a scan. Not lewd—calculating. Intrigued.

And then, that voice—low, scratchy, voice smooth like gravel and whiskey, way-too-good-for-this-world voice—slips out of his mouth like it’s got intentions:

“Didn’t think I’d see a pretty little thing like you at one of our parties.”

You swear your soda fizzes louder.

“Um,” you say. Your voice is already doing The Thing—that high-pitched, I-don’t-know-how-to-talk-to-hot-people thing. “Thanks?”

He smirks. “First time here?”

You nod, then stop, then try to explain. “Y-yeah. My friend dragged me. I wasn’t… planning to stay.”

His eyes flick toward the dance floor, like he’s clocking the friend you clearly came with. “Lemme guess. Ditched you?”

You blink. “How’d you—”

“You’ve been standin’ here for fifteen minutes,” he says. “Lookin’ like you’re tryin’ to mentally disassociate from the dubstep remix of ‘Seven Nation Army.’”

You let out a panicked laugh, because—he’s right. You are.

And now Katsuki Bakugou is standing way too close. Not crowding, but definitely not respecting standard “hot stranger” protocol. He leans just a bit toward you, glancing at your sad soda. His grin goes sideways. Ferally amused.

“Lemme get you a real drink,” he offers. “Don’t worry—I’ll pour it myself.”

Your heartbeat jumps. Not because it’s romantic. But because alarm bells go off. Every girl-in-college instinct yells: Stranger! Danger! Drink! Frat house! BAD!

You freeze. “Oh—no, thank you. I’m… good. This is fine.”

You gesture awkwardly to your soda like it’s an award-winning vintage instead of whatever off-brand cola someone handed you when you arrived.

He raises a brow. Just one. “You think I’m tryin’ to drug you?”

You panic. “N-NO! Not like that—I just—I mean I don’t know you and—uh—I’m sorry—”

He chuckles. It’s a low, rough sound, like gravel being dragged across velvet.

“You’re cute when you stammer.”

You squeak. Then—his tone dips, smooth and syrupy, casual but too sharp to be an accident. “Wanna go somewhere quieter? You look like you’re gonna combust if the bass drops again. We can go upstairs.”

Your eyes widen. He doesn’t touch you. Just watches. Calm. Patient. Too patient. Like he knows what he’s doing.

You swallow. The walls are closing in. The lights are too hot. His face is too much. “I-I actually… have a thing tomorrow. Early. So. I’m just—gonna go. Sorry.”

And then. You bolt. Turn and walk away.

Like a coward.

Like you just rejected Katsuki Bakugou.

You don’t look back. But Katsuki stands there, still. Jaw tight. Pledges laughing too close to his ear like they’ve just seen their invincible warlord get pantsed by a kitten.

“Yo—did you see that?” “She rejected him?” “Bro, the Prez got ghosted in real time!” “I didn’t know that could happen?!”

A few of them start clapping. The disrespect is palpable.

Katsuki takes a slow sip of his drink. Doesn’t react. Just locks eyes on your retreating form like he’s uploading your soul into a kill list. His silence only makes it worse.

That’s when Yamada—one of the newer pledges, all cocky smirk and zero brain cells—decides to grow a pair.

“Dude,” he calls out, grinning like an idiot, “if you can’t get in her pants and fuck her in the next three months, you’re officially stepping down from your heartthrob throne.”

Silence. Everyone freezes. You could hear a pong ball drop.

“And we get to take your precious baby for a spin,” he adds. “Two weeks. Full keys. No chaperone.”

A hush falls over the room like someone just mentioned Voldemort.

Sero drops his beer. “Bro. You did not just bring up the Porsche.”

Kirishima looks physically pained. “Yo, that’s—dude, that’s kinda too far.”

“Yeah, man,” Kaminari adds, eyes wide. “You tryna die or something? That car's his literal child.”

They’re talking about the car. The black 911 GT3 Porsche. Custom specs. His dad helped him import it from Germany for his 21st birthday. That thing growls like a beast and costs more than all of Sigma Vex’s pledges combined. Katsuki doesn’t even park it near other cars. He parks it under a cover and wipes down the tires like it's a deity.

Kirishima steps forward. “Kats, bro—come on. Don’t—don’t entertain this. She’s just a girl.”

“She’s just a girl,” Katsuki echoes quietly.

He downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Then he turns toward Yamada with the slow, sharp grin of a predator who was just handed a valid reason to destroy someone—emotionally, spiritually, academically.

“You’re on.”

Kirishima groans. “Bro—”

“She wants to play shy?” Katsuki says, voice cold now. “Fine. I’ll play too. But three months?”

He scoffs, already calculating.

“I’ll have her begging in two.”

And just like that, the game begins.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Part 2 is in the making! will be finished and posted in 2 days!

check out my other works here!: MHA MASTERLIST

TAG LIST: @d4wnyjlk @lillyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @greeeaaattt @oogieboogiesbugs0724 @dienamiight @urmom2bitch @kalulakunundrum @pastelbakugou @missdynamighttt @lotusstarr @bakug0uzb1thc @fr6giledoll @urfavangelss @witchy-karma @kelisewrites @gamblersdoll @cathnospam @wonubby @writeriguess @proburfavblonde @mrsbakuqo

some of the people i tagged here are the writers i've been following for quite a while and i love so many of their works. and they have inspired me to write and start my own blog here. im hoping we can all be friends <3

[wonubby]

me for the past week and i'm so fucking maddd

STOP👏TAGGING👏XREADER👏IF👏YOU👏USE👏AN👏OC👏NOBODY👏 FUCKING👏ASKED👏FOR👏THAT👏OKAY???

The wrong thing is not the fact that you write a story with an oc, no, that's not the real problem, really.

IT'S JUST THE FACT THAT YOU USE THE WRONG TAG SO YOU HOPE MORE PEOPLE READ YOUR STORY. BUT BELIEVE ME IT'S JUST FUCKING ANNOYING 'CAUSE WE AREN'T ABLE TO FIND THE RIGHT FICS IF YOU KEEP DOING THIS!!!

There are people who like to read more stories with ocs than reader inserts, so use the fucking right tag go reach that community and stop spamming your stories among ours.

I don't think you get it but, you know, the purpose of fanfics with reader insert is to make the reader imagine her/himself as the mc of the story. The best part of these fics is the fact that EVERYONE can be included in them.

SO WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN THEM BY MAKING THE MC A PERSON THAT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE READER AND EVEN HAS A NAME THAT IS NOT THEIRS?

Not to be dramatic but i hate y'all.

And the fact that it's always the same fandoms and we all know who we're talking about...

[wonubby]

KIRIBAKU CORE BAHAHAHA

[wonubby]

A bit late to this trend but heeeyyyy look at them <3

This has most likely been done already but I wanted to have a go at it myself haha

Referencing the Urusei Yatsura OP!