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[xmpsrrr]

❀ about me ❀

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❀ Hey guys i’m kierra and i’m 16! i love reading/writing fanfics. (mainly bakugo) BUT i will try to write about more characters 🥹 if you guys have any requests please let me know i would love to write them!! ✧✿

Recent Works ׂ╰┈➤Office hours, After hours.

✿ ❈ ♡ Masterlist ♡ ❈ ✿

✧ My Hero Academia ✧

✦ Jujutsu Kaisen ✦

✿ Haikyuu !! ✿

[xmpsrrr]

Office hours, After hours.

An aged-up Nanami Kento x Reader (CEO x Secretary)

ᯓ★ Your connection with Kento Nanami deepens as you both navigate corporate intrigue, betrayal, and desire. When a rival threatens your position and Nanami’s company, you stand your ground—and in a moment of vulnerability and passion, the unspoken feelings between you and Nanami ignite into a heated, forbidden romance.

A/N- decided to write someone else other then bakugo. 😣 hope u guys enjoy this!! ✮⋆˙

Working for Nanami Kento wasn’t easy, but it was impossible to walk away from.

Every morning, the elevator would ascend past the gleaming steel and glass of the corporate tower, carrying you to the top floor where Nanami Enterprises ruled the skyline. Kento’s name was emblazoned in gold on the frosted glass doors, and every time you pushed them open, you felt a pulse of anticipation.

Nanami was more than a boss. He was a presence. Tall, broad-shouldered, with blond hair neatly combed back, and a pair of designer glasses that framed those piercing hazel eyes. His suits were always immaculate, his voice low and calm, but you’d learned that under the cool exterior was a man who noticed everything. Especially you.

You’d been his secretary for almost two years now. Two years of early mornings, late nights, and stolen glances when you thought he wasn’t looking. Two years of lingering silences when you delivered his reports, of your hand brushing against his when you handed him his morning coffee. You convinced yourself it was nothing more than a passing crush—but lately, you weren’t so sure.

The last quarter had been brutal. Extra meetings, high-stakes negotiations, and deadlines that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Tonight was no exception.

The office had long since emptied, the corridors silent except for the distant hum of the city below. You sat at your desk, illuminated only by the soft glow of your monitor. The quarterly reports were finally finished, neatly printed and clipped together. You hesitated, glancing toward Nanami’s office, where the light was still on, casting a golden glow against the glass.

You stood, smoothing your skirt and gathering the papers you’d just printed. Your heels clicked softly against the polished marble floor as you hesitated outside Kento Nanami’s office. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of warm light spilling into the dimly lit hallway.

Your heart was a stuttering mess in your chest, and you chastised yourself for it. This was work—just work. You were merely delivering the quarterly reports your CEO had requested. Nothing more.

And yet, you couldn’t help but think of the way Nanami’s gaze sometimes lingered on you. How his voice would soften when he called your name. How, just last week, he’d brushed a stray hair from your face during a late-night strategy meeting and you’d felt the ghost of his touch long after he’d pulled away.

You exhaled a shaky breath, steeling yourself. You were his secretary. Nothing more.

Just as you were about to push open the door, you heard a low voice inside—one that made your skin crawl.

“That secretary of yours, Kento. You really ought to replace her with someone more… assertive.”

You froze, every muscle in your body tightening. The voice belonged to Ryoji Sakuraba—the Chief Operating Officer, your not-so-secret rival. Sakuraba had been gunning for Nanami’s position for years, his ambition eclipsed only by his arrogance. He made no effort to hide his disdain for you, often undermining you in meetings, criticizing your reports, and offering thinly veiled barbs that left you seething.

“She’s more than capable,” Nanami’s voice replied, calm and clipped, though you thought you detected a hint of irritation beneath his composed tone.

Sakuraba chuckled. “Capable? Maybe. But she’s too soft. You need someone who’ll stand their ground. Someone who’s willing to play the game.”

You pressed your back against the wall, pulse racing.

“I don’t play games,” Nanami said coolly. “And I don’t tolerate insubordination. If you have concerns about my staff, bring them to me professionally—not in the form of baseless slander.”

There was a pause, then Sakuraba’s voice, lower, almost mocking. “You’re too noble for this world, Kento. Sooner or later, your enemies will eat you alive. And that secretary of yours—she’s a weakness. Everyone sees it.”

Your breath caught.

“I suggest you leave,” Nanami said, his voice now unmistakably cold.

You heard the shuffle of footsteps, and a moment later, Sakuraba emerged from the office, his sharp eyes flicking over you with a smirk. “Listening in, darling?” he drawled, his voice laced with condescension. “Careful—that’s how rumors start.”

You straightened your spine, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “I was just about to deliver these reports,” you said evenly, holding up the papers.

His smirk widened. “Of course you were. Always the good little secretary.”

He sauntered past, his expensive cologne lingering in the air, and you resisted the urge to gag.

Once he was gone, you exhaled shakily and turned back to the door. The silence inside was now thick, but you couldn’t leave—not now. You knocked lightly, then stepped inside.

Nanami was standing by the window, the city skyline behind him bathed in gold and indigo. His jacket was off, his sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. He turned slowly at the sound of your entrance, his expression unreadable.

“I have the reports you requested, Nanami-san,” you said, your voice carefully composed.

He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You heard him.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I just—”

“You were doing your job,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “You’ve always done your job.”

Your breath hitched as he came to stand just a few feet from you, the subtle scent of his cologne enveloping you in warmth. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly tousled from where he’d run a hand through it.

“Kento,” you said softly, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue.

His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t correct you. Instead, he said, “Sakuraba is dangerous. He wants my position—and he’ll use anyone he can to get it, including you.”

“I can handle him,” you said, though your voice trembled.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t mind the long hours, the pressure—that you stayed because of him. But the words caught in your throat, tangled with fear and longing.

After a beat, he took the reports from your hands, his fingers brushing yours in a spark of contact. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll look these over.”

You nodded, lingering a moment longer than necessary before forcing yourself to step back. “I’ll… see you tomorrow, Kento.”

As you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“(Y/N),” he said softly.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder. His gaze held yours, intense and unreadable.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured, almost too low to hear.

Your breath caught, but before you could reply, you offered him a faint smile and slipped out the door.

Your pulse was a frantic rhythm beneath your skin as you walked back to your desk. The air between you and Kento Nanami was thick with things unsaid—desire, fear, loyalty, ambition.

And you knew, deep down, this was only the beginning.

The slow burn of your connection was just beginning to ignite.

You tried to focus on your work the next morning, but the memory of Kento’s voice—“I’m glad you’re here”—echoed in your mind like a secret confession. It was the first time he’d allowed the mask of professionalism to slip, even just a little.

But there was no room for distraction, not today. You had back-to-back meetings, emails to respond to, and a whispered warning from your friend in accounting: Fushiguro Industries had been seen wining and dining key executives from the Sato Group, likely trying to close the deal under Nanami’s nose.

And, of course, Sakuraba was circling.

Late that afternoon, you were filing reports outside the boardroom when his voice cut through the air.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Sakuraba murmured, leaning casually against the doorframe. He looked as though he’d stepped out of a luxury ad—expensive suit, gold cufflinks, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. “Word is, Nanami’s position might not be so secure. And when the company shifts, so do its… attachments.”

You glanced up sharply, spine straightening. “I’m not an attachment, Sakuraba-san. I’m an employee.”

“Ah, but loyalty is such a fragile thing, isn’t it?” he drawled, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “You’re smart, (Y/N). You should be thinking about your own position. It’d be a shame if you tied yourself too closely to a sinking ship.”

You refused to let him see you flinch. “If you’re done posturing, I have work to do.”

His smile thinned, but before he could reply, a quiet but authoritative voice spoke from behind you.

“Is there a problem here?”

You turned to find Nanami standing just a few feet away, his presence calm but unmistakably commanding. His gaze was fixed on Sakuraba, and though his tone was cool, the warning in his voice was clear.

“Not at all,” Sakuraba said smoothly, though his expression twisted into something colder as he inclined his head. “Just a friendly chat with your secretary.”

“Then it’s over,” Nanami said, his voice like the quiet weight of a gavel falling. He stepped closer, subtly positioning himself between you and Sakuraba. “(Y/N), I need those financial summaries. In my office, please.”

Without a word, you gathered the papers and followed Nanami down the hall. The moment you stepped into his office and the door clicked shut, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease—just slightly.

He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed. “Are you all right?”

You swallowed. “I’m fine. He’s just… trying to unsettle me.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened. “That’s his specialty.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. “Fushiguro Industries is pressing harder than ever. They’ve promised Sato’s board a bigger cut if they switch allegiances. Sakuraba’s been feeding them information. I’ve been trying to contain it, but—”

“You can’t do this alone,” you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his features.

“I know I’m just your secretary,” you said quietly, “but I’ve seen the patterns. The backdoor meetings, the timing of their leaks. They’re playing dirty. But we can fight back—if you let me help.���

He stared at you for a long moment, and for the first time, the full weight of his exhaustion showed in the curve of his shoulders. Then, finally, he spoke—soft, rough, honest.

“You’re not just my secretary,” he said quietly. “You’re the only person I trust in this company.”

Your breath caught, a sudden rush of warmth flooding your chest.

Before you could reply, he stepped closer, his voice dropping. “But if you’re going to stand with me, you need to understand the risk. Fushiguro will come after anyone I rely on. Especially you.”

“I know,” you whispered.

His gaze was steady, but there was a quiet intensity in it now, an undercurrent of something deeper. “If you want out… if you’d rather transfer departments or leave the company, I’ll understand. I won’t hold it against you.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding. Slowly, you stepped closer, until you were standing right in front of him.

“I’m not leaving,” you said firmly, your voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’m not giving up on you. Or this company. Or… whatever this is.”

For a heartbeat, the air between you was charged with the weight of everything unspoken. His hand hovered just above yours, as though he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.

“I’ll handle Sakuraba and Fushiguro,” he said quietly. “But after hours… we talk. Just the two of us.”

You nodded, your pulse skittering wildly.

“After hours,” you echoed softly.

That night, you stayed late again. The office was silent except for the soft clatter of your keyboard and the low murmur of Nanami’s voice from his office as he called in favors, negotiating with quiet ferocity. When you finally finished compiling the counterproposal for the Sato Group, you carried it to his office, your steps echoing in the quiet.

He looked up from his papers as you entered, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly at the sight of you. You set the folder down between you, your fingers brushing his—this time lingering a moment longer.

“Kento,” you murmured, your voice barely a breath.

His hand closed over yours, warm and solid. His gaze met yours, steady and intense.

“Stay,” he said softly.

And this time, you didn’t hesitate.

The room felt impossibly quiet, the hum of the city outside nothing compared to the thundering pulse in your ears. Nanami’s hand was warm where it covered yours, his grip steady, grounding you.

“Stay,” he repeated, voice low and rough, a plea threaded beneath the command.

You swallowed hard, heart fluttering in your chest. “I’ll stay,” you whispered, the words tasting like surrender.

Slowly, as if testing a fragile boundary, Nanami stepped closer. His hand slid up your arm, his fingertips grazing your skin through the thin fabric of your blouse. The touch was featherlight but searing, sending shivers down your spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your temple as he leaned in.

You didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, you turned your face slightly, just enough to brush your lips against the corner of his jaw—a tentative, feather-soft kiss that tasted like hesitation and want.

That single brush seemed to unravel something in him. His breath hitched, and in the next moment, his lips found yours—firm, warm, and insistent. The kiss was slow but deep, a lingering exploration that spoke of restraint finally breaking. His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his mouth coaxed yours open, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you breathless.

You pressed closer, your hands finding the front of his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the undone collar to trace the hard line of his collarbone. His skin was hot beneath your touch, his pulse racing under your fingertips. He groaned softly into your mouth, the sound low and rough, and it sent a thrill through you.

His hands slipped down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You felt the solid press of his body, the heat of his arousal undeniable against your hip. Your breath caught, a soft whimper escaping as he deepened the kiss, his teeth gently grazing your lower lip.

“Kento,” you gasped when he finally pulled back just enough to let you breathe. His name on your lips was a benediction and a challenge all at once.

“Tell me if this is too fast,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. His breath was ragged, his voice low and rough with restraint.

You shook your head, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “It’s not.”

That was all it took. His mouth crashed back onto yours, and this time there was no hesitation. His hands found the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with a practiced ease, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. His mouth trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against the sensitive skin at your collarbone.

You gasped, fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. He shrugged out of his dress shirt, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he pressed you back against the edge of his desk. The cool surface met the backs of your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you atop it.

“Kento,” you whispered, breathless as his hands roamed over your exposed skin, his mouth finding the hollow of your throat, the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His hands skimmed down your sides, tracing the curve of your hips, the softness of your thighs. When his fingers found the hem of your skirt, he tugged it higher, exposing the thin scrap of lace that barely covered you.

The sound he made was half-groan, half-growl, and it sent a thrill through you.

“God, I’ve wanted you,” he admitted, his voice raw. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, teasing the sensitive skin there, drawing soft gasps from your lips.

You arched against him, hips rocking forward in silent plea. “Please,” you whispered, your voice breaking on the word.

That was all he needed. His mouth captured yours again as his fingers found you, stroking slow and deliberate, teasing until you were trembling against him. You moaned softly, breaking the kiss to gasp his name as his thumb circled that sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low against your ear. “Let me hear you.”

You shattered against him, pleasure crashing through you in waves as you clung to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips in a broken cry.

As you came down from the high, he kissed you softly, gently, as if grounding you back to reality. But the heat between you hadn’t cooled—in fact, it was only growing hotter.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured, lifting you into his arms effortlessly, carrying you toward the plush leather couch near the window. He laid you down gently, his hands trailing down your body as he followed you down, his lips finding yours again, deepening the kiss as he pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel just how much he wanted you.

“I’ve been wanting this… wanting you for so long,” he confessed, the quiet words rough with desire.

And this time, there were no more walls between you.

[xmpsrrr]

✦ Jujutsu Kaisen ✦

nanami

office hours, after hours

more jjk coming soon ★

[xmpsrrr]

✿ Haikyuu !! ✿

Atsumu Miya

After Midnight

Suna Rintarou

if u didn’t want to stay, you should’ve just left

more haikyu coming soon!!

[xmpsrrr]

✧ My Hero Academia ✧

bakugo katsuki

sparks between us

sparks between us part 2

bad at love

second guessing

keep in time(drummer AU )

heat of the moment

after the blowout

echos in silence

backseat confessions

sunshine in a storm

the way you set my world on fire

smolder

more mha coming ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[xmpsrrr]

Back to friends- Sombr

Bakugo Katsuki x reader

Js angst

Been feeling rather sad🙂‍↕️ yes I made ochaco te villain

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Bakugo loved one another deeply, he showed his affection through random acts of service while you were more of a quality time person.

Loved sitting in the same room while he read a book and you napped or even when he cooked and you just watched him with the most adoring look in your eyes.

Everybody wanted what you two had.

That was until something got between you two. Like a brick wall that couldn't be broken, stuck there permanently.

It was three months? Maybe four when he came home. Disheveled,exhausted, angry. Like he was mad at the world.

The room filled with tension as soon as he stepped in the door, rough worn out boots getting thrown off his feet. The kind you told him to get new ones made. Gauntlets banging the floor with an agonizing sound almost as if it was ticking bomb waiting to explode.

He came in jaw clenched,posture stiffened. The wedding ring on his finger once brightly shiny,dimmed.

Almost falling off of his finger like a metaphor waiting to happen.

"Hi baby how was wor-" you began to say a smile placed graciously on your cherry lips. "Fine" he said in a gruff tone almost dismissive of your affection.

Your lips frowned as you got up from the couch sauntering over to him, you felt his arm in an affectionate way trying to calm him down. It worked before, so why not now?

"Stop" he said pulling away glaring down at you like you did something to personally offend him.

"What...what do you mean?" You asked wide eyed and stepping back lips quivering. Confusion etched on your now pale face.

"Cut the shit, you know what you did" he said almost as if he was pointing an invisible finger at you accusing you of something you'd never do.

"Katsuki I don't understand" you said biting your lip.

"Understand of course you don't," he says laughing bitterly,"Ochaco showed me the messages between you and your affair, I know y/n" he says.

"No wonder you tell me to have fun on my missions so you can get fucked by some low class guy huh? Useless slut" he sneered.

"What messages Katsuki I don't understand" you said almost begging him for an answer he didn't even have.

"We're over y/n this marriage was a waste and of course you dragged me into this shithole" he said.

When he threw the ring off it clattered on the ground, each sound a reminder of what once was.

That night you cried, sobbed even because the man you loved, the man you cherished believed a coworker over you?

Some girl that was in both of your highschool class. Always jealous of other girls.

After the papers were signed you left the ring on the table. A wave of sadness swarmed over you.

Years later after the divorce ( love skipping ahead)

You had a nice tiny apartment and you were still recovering not quite trusting any man or yourself just yet.

Suddenly a powerful yet weak knock was heard.

You opened it and there stood a tall brood tired Bakugo. His hair even worse, eyes bags under his eyes and almost tear stains on his cheeks,"look y/n I'm so-" this time you cut him off,"what the fuck, Bakugo you can't just show up randomly to decide to come check up on me." You said eyebrows sewn together.

"You can't just prance on in here like you deserve to.. maybe your sorry because you found out I was right but...you were my husband yet you believed her" your voice cracked.

Emotions poured over you.

"We had everything, and you threw it away because some chick told you differently? And to call me a derogatory word what the fuck" you said laughing the same bitter laugh he used for you.

"You know people say forgive and forget but I'd forget you before I even get the chance to forgive.... I don't wanna see your face...go" was the last words you uttered.

Uttered to the man who broke your heart.

Well is it better to forgive and forget?

Or to hate one with such a negative emotion?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note

Sorry for the shortness I keep just getting spurts of writing ideas.hope you enjoyed.

[xmpsrrr]

smolder

prohero bakugo x reader

summary: tension simmers between you and bakugo until it finally boils over into a night where restraint breaks, emotions run high, and whispered promises leave nothing but the memory of touch and trust in the aftermath.

A/N- 100 follower special hope u guys enjoy!!

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The night was dark, the kind of velvet-black sky scattered with pinpricks of stars that always made you feel just a little bit small. But tonight, it wasn’t the sky that made you feel that way—it was the man walking a few paces ahead, his pace steady and sure, every step crackling with restrained power.

Katsuki Bakugo. Pro Hero Dynamight. A man with a name as explosive as his quirk, a reputation for destruction, and a sharp tongue that kept even his allies at bay. But you, for some reason you didn’t fully understand, had earned his respect. Or at least, his tolerance.

You had been partnered with him for six months now—a quiet but capable hero, assigned to balance out his volatile energy. Where he roared, you whispered. Where he charged in headfirst, you held back, calculating. Together, you made a good team, though no one else quite understood how it worked.

“Stay close,” Bakugo grunted, glancing back at you over his shoulder. His voice was low, rough, but not as sharp as it usually was.

“I always do,” you replied softly, falling into step beside him.

His crimson eyes flicked toward you, narrowed slightly, but he said nothing more. He didn’t have to. You’d both grown used to these silences, to the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like thick, summer air.

Tonight’s patrol was uneventful so far. A few minor disturbances here and there, nothing you couldn’t handle. But you felt it—the tension in Bakugo’s shoulders, the way his jaw clenched tighter than usual. Something was bothering him.

“Bakugo,” you said quietly as you both turned down a narrow alley, the city lights casting long shadows. “You’re wound up tonight. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, but then sighed. “Just… be careful. There’ve been reports of some underground shit brewing. I don’t want you getting caught in the crossfire.”

It was the closest thing to concern you’d ever heard from him. Your heart gave an unexpected flutter, and you fought to keep your face neutral.

“I’ll watch your back,” you said, and his lips twitched into something that might almost be called a smile.

The rest of the patrol passed in tense silence, until the crackle of his comm drew both your attention. A dispatch call—an ambush at a nearby warehouse. Without hesitation, Bakugo jerked his head in the direction of the location. “Let’s move.”

You both sprinted, the night air sharp in your lungs. The warehouse loomed ahead, dark and ominous. You could already sense something wrong, feel the tension thrumming in the air like a wire stretched too tight.

Inside, chaos erupted. A gang of low-level villains, but they were organized, more than you’d expected. You and Bakugo fought back-to-back, your quirks complementing each other perfectly. His explosions rocked the walls, your precise strikes neutralized threats one by one.

But then—someone slipped past. A masked figure lunged at you from the shadows, faster than you anticipated. Before you could react, Bakugo was there, his body slamming into the assailant, a feral snarl ripping from his throat. He blasted the villain away with a burst of force that left scorch marks on the concrete.

“You alright?!” he barked, grabbing your arm, eyes scanning you frantically. His hand was rough but steady, his grip strong but not painful.

“I’m fine,” you breathed, heart racing. But his proximity, the way his breath ghosted over your skin, made something in your chest ache.

Bakugo’s jaw worked for a moment, as if he were trying to force words out. Finally, he growled, “Next time, don’t hesitate to call for me. Got it?”

You nodded, breathless. “Got it.”

He let go of your arm slowly, his fingers brushing yours as he stepped back. The fight was over, but something had shifted between you—something neither of you were quite ready to name.

The city buzzed with life long after the warehouse incident, but the rush of adrenaline was still thick between you and Bakugo. The silence that fell during the drive back to headquarters wasn’t uncomfortable, but heavy—filled with things left unsaid.

You glanced over at him once, watching the tension ripple beneath his skin as he gripped the steering wheel. His sharp eyes stared ahead, jaw clenched like he was fighting off some invisible weight.

“I could have handled it,” you said softly, breaking the quiet.

His eyes flicked to you briefly, eyebrows knitting together. “Don’t bullshit me. You almost got hit. If I wasn’t there—”

You cut him off with a small shake of your head. “I know. I’m glad you were.”

For a moment, something like vulnerability softened his expression, and you saw the man behind the hero—the one who carried more than he let on.

“We’ve got to watch each other’s backs. That’s what partners do.”

You nodded, feeling your chest tighten. Partners. The word lingered in the air, heavier than you expected.

Later, at the hero dorms, the quiet hum of the city was a distant murmur through the windows. You found yourself pacing, replaying the night in your mind—how close things had come to tipping over, how Bakugo’s concern had burned hotter than his explosions.

A knock at your door startled you. You opened it to find Bakugo standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the usual fiery edge softened just enough to be almost inviting.

“Needed to check if you’re really okay,” he said gruffly, avoiding your eyes.

You stepped aside, letting him in. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

His gaze finally met yours, intense and searching. “Don’t thank me. Just… don’t scare me like that again.”

There it was—the rare, raw honesty that caught your breath. You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking.

“Bakugo…”

He cut you off with a low, almost reluctant smile. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not soft.”

But in the quiet of the room, beneath the city lights, the heat between you spoke louder than words ever could.

Days passed like a slow fuse burning down, each moment with Bakugo charged with an electric undercurrent you both pretended not to notice.

At training, he was as fierce as ever—explosions marking every strike, his body taut with controlled aggression. But in the rare pauses, his eyes would catch yours just a little longer than necessary, flickers of something softer hidden beneath the usual fire.

One evening, after a grueling session, you both found yourselves alone in the quiet gym. Sweat clung to your skin, and your muscles ached pleasantly, but the tension was thicker than the humidity.

Bakugo wiped his brow with the back of his hand and let out a sharp breath. “You’re tougher than I thought.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

He scowled but the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push it.”

You stepped closer, the air between you crackling. “I’m just saying… you make me want to try harder.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, the explosive hero dropped away, leaving a man who wanted to close the gap between words and action.

“You’re annoying,” he muttered, voice low.

“And you’re impossible to read.”

Bakugo’s lips twitched, and then he was suddenly close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint tang of smoke and something uniquely his.

“I’m not good at this—any of it,” he admitted, voice rough and honest. “But I’m damn good at knowing I want you.”

Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your ears. The slow burn was igniting, and neither of you could—or wanted to—put it out anymore.

For a long moment, you and Bakugo stood there, breath mingling in the thick silence. His confession—rough and edged with uncertainty—hung between you like the aftershocks of one of his blasts.

You were the first to move, a small step closer, so close your fingers brushed his. “Then why do you keep holding back?”

His jaw clenched, crimson eyes locked on yours, but his usual sharpness softened into something raw. “Because… if I give in, there’s no going back.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “And what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

The crack in his armor widened. His hand lifted hesitantly, fingers ghosting along your cheek before cupping your jaw with a tenderness you never thought Bakugo capable of.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“Good,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. “Because you’ve been in my head for months.”

With a low, rough groan, Bakugo finally closed the distance, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was as fierce as it was hesitant. His lips moved against yours with the urgency of someone who had waited too long, his hands framing your face like he was afraid you’d disappear.

The kiss deepened, and you felt the heat of him, the way he held himself back even now, trembling with restraint. When he pulled away, his breath was ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“Not here,” he murmured, voice husky with need. “Not when I can’t do it right.”

You shivered, anticipation pooling low in your belly. “Then where?”

A dangerous smile tugged at his lips. “My place. Tomorrow. After the shift.”

You nodded, your pulse hammering. “Okay.”

As he stepped back, his hand lingered at your waist, his touch a silent promise of what was to come.

The next day passed with agonizing slowness. Every glance from Bakugo felt heavier, every brush of his hand against yours—accidental or not—sent sparks skittering across your skin. The air between you was thick with everything you hadn’t said, everything you were finally going to act on.

Your shift dragged until finally, mercifully, it ended. Bakugo was waiting at the exit, his usual scowl softened just enough to make your pulse jump.

“Ready?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, your throat dry.

The walk to his apartment was quiet, but not awkward. There was a sense of purpose in each step, in the way he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, as if making sure you were still with him.

When he unlocked his door and stepped aside to let you in, you felt the shift immediately. His apartment was surprisingly clean, the faint scent of burnt caramel in the air from a candle burning low on the counter.

“I didn’t want it to be… rushed,” Bakugo said quietly, his voice gruff but sincere.

You turned to face him, heart pounding, and stepped closer until you were standing chest to chest. “I don’t want rushed, either.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, it felt like the world held its breath with you. Then, slowly, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingertips lingering against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

You shook your head, leaning in. “Don’t you dare.”

That was all it took. His mouth met yours in a kiss that was deeper than the first, a kiss that spoke of months of unspoken desire. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he devoured your lips with slow, deliberate care.

He pulled back just enough to speak against your mouth. “You’re so damn soft. You make me wanna be gentle. I’ve never wanted that before.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine. “Then be gentle. Show me.”

Bakugo’s groan was low and needy as he backed you toward his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. His usual fire was there, but it was tempered by something sweeter, something more careful, like he was savoring every second of this build-up.

When the backs of your knees hit his bed, he paused, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath ragged. “I’m gonna take my time. Gonna make you feel so good, you won’t remember anyone else’s name but mine.”

Your pulse thrummed wildly. “Please, Katsuki…”

His eyes darkened at the sound of his name falling from your lips like a prayer, and then he was kissing you again, deeper, hotter, the slow burn finally tipping into something molten.

Bakugo’s hands were everywhere now—rough and calloused but moving with a gentleness that made you melt beneath his touch. His lips traced the line of your jaw, down your throat, leaving a trail of heated kisses that sent shivers through your entire body.

When he laid you back on the bed, his crimson eyes were dark, hungry, but still holding that softness that was reserved just for you. His hands followed, gliding along your sides, up beneath your shirt, fingertips dancing lightly against your skin as he eased the fabric over your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched, a flush creeping up your neck. “You’ve been holding back for too long,” you whispered.

He growled low in his throat, leaning down to nip at your collarbone. “Damn right I have. But not anymore.”

Bakugo’s lips found yours again, his kiss deeper, more demanding now as he pressed you into the mattress. His hands were steady as they slid over you, unfastening and removing your remaining clothes with care.

When he finally had you bare beneath him, he pulled back just enough to look at you—his eyes drinking you in with an intensity that made your breath catch. “So fucking perfect,” he rasped. “Mine.”

Your hands found the hem of his shirt, pushing it up and over his head, revealing the planes of muscle that flexed with every movement. You traced the scars and lines of his body, memorizing every inch as he shivered under your touch.

Bakugo groaned, his hips pressing against yours, the hardness of him undeniable. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, voice low and rough. “Gonna have you saying my name over and over.”

Your hips arched into his, a needy sound escaping your lips. “Please, Katsuki…”

That was it—the final spark. He claimed your mouth again, his kiss hot and possessive, his hands everywhere at once—stroking, teasing, worshiping every inch of you. He took his time, lips mapping your skin, fingers coaxing gasps and moans from you until you were trembling beneath him.

When he finally slid inside you, it was with a slow, deliberate thrust that filled you perfectly. He groaned, forehead pressing to yours, his breath ragged. “Fuck… you feel so good,” he murmured.

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he moved with deep, rolling thrusts that sent sparks of pleasure through you. He was relentless yet tender, his mouth finding yours again, his words a mix of praise and need.

“That’s it, baby… so good for me… taking me so well…”

Your body tightened around him, your climax building with every stroke, every whispered word. Bakugo’s pace quickened, his control slipping as his own release loomed.

“Come for me,” he groaned against your ear, his voice breaking. “Wanna feel you fall apart around me…”

The pleasure crashed over you like a wave, your cry muffled against his shoulder as you came, shuddering in his arms. Bakugo followed moments later, his own groan torn from his chest as he buried himself deep inside you.

For a long time, the only sounds were your combined breaths, the soft rustle of sheets, the quiet hum of satisfaction that filled the room.

Bakugo pressed a kiss to your temple, his arms tightening around you as he whispered, “Told you I’d take my time.”

Bakugo’s weight settled gently beside you, his breathing slowly returning to normal. His arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close, the heat of his skin searing into yours in the best way possible.

For a long moment, you lay there together in silence, your heartbeats gradually syncing, the world outside fading into irrelevance. His head dipped, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, a quiet rumble of satisfaction vibrating in his chest.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough but softened by an unfamiliar tenderness.

You blinked up at him, head resting against his shoulder. “What?”

His crimson eyes, still dark with the aftermath of desire, met yours. “Didn’t think I’d… feel like this. Didn’t think I’d care so much it’d scare me shitless.”

A soft smile tugged at your lips. “I scare you?”

“Tch.” His scoff was half-hearted, and he rolled onto his side to face you fully, his hand coming up to trace along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You scare me because you make me wanna be better. Not just a better hero. A better man. I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

Your chest tightened, emotions catching you off guard. You reached up, fingers curling into his hair, drawing him down into a slow, lingering kiss.

“You’re not going to,” you whispered against his lips. “We’re in this together.”

His breath hitched, a rare vulnerability flashing across his face before he masked it with a crooked smirk. “Damn right we are.”

The two of you lay there for a while longer, limbs tangled, the world quiet around you. Eventually, Bakugo’s voice rumbled low against your skin. “You’re staying the night. Non-negotiable.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

“Good.” He tucked you closer, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against your ear. “You’re mine now. And I’m yours.”

In the quiet that followed, you realized how right it felt—how natural it was to fit against him like this, to let your walls down completely. And when you finally drifted off to sleep, it was with a soft smile and the comforting weight of Bakugo’s arms around you, keeping you safe and warm.

Outside, the city lights shimmered like embers, and for the first time in a long while, you felt at peace—knowing the slow burn between you had finally ignited into something real.

[xmpsrrr]

The Way You Set My World on Fire

inspired by the song “in my head” by ariana grande

(bakugo x reader)

Summary:

You’ve always seen more in him than he shows the world. And he’s always seen you as someone too good to be tainted by his mess. But love has never cared for timing, and fantasies only hold out so long before they crash into reality.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You didn’t mean to fall for Bakugou.

You were supposed to keep it professional — work as fellow pro-heroes, lean on each other in battle, and walk away unscathed every time. That was the plan.

But then came the long nights. The quiet check-ins after missions. The small things: the way he remembered your coffee order, the way he never let you walk home alone, the way he always stood just a little too close.

And you? You let yourself believe he felt the same way. Not because he said it — but because it was there, in the way his gaze lingered, how his hands trembled when you got hurt, the way his voice cracked when he called your name in a fight.

But tonight, under the hum of city lights and the quiet of the rooftop, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I think I built something up in my head,” you said softly, your arms wrapped around yourself as the wind bit through your jacket. “Something that wasn’t real.”

Bakugou stood beside you, silent. His jaw was tense, fists clenched like he was fighting something invisible.

“Don’t say that,” he muttered, barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, trying not to let hope take root again. “Then say something else.”

He turned, eyes burning. “You think I don’t feel this?” he snapped. “You think I don’t want to grab you and kiss you like I’ve been dying to for months?”

You blinked.

“But I’m not the guy in your head,” he said, voice raw. “I’m not soft. I’m not good at this. And I sure as hell don’t deserve you.”

Silence stretched. You stepped closer.

“I never asked for perfect,” you whispered. “I just wanted you. The one who stays up with me when I can’t sleep. The one who walks three blocks out of his way just to make sure I’m okay. The one who pretends he doesn’t care when it’s written all over his face.”

He looked at you like he was drowning — and for the first time, wanted to be saved.

“You set my world on fire,” you said, reaching for his hand, “and then act like you don’t know it.”

He didn’t speak.

He kissed you instead.

Like a man who finally let go of the war inside him.

hope u guys enjoyed!:)

[xmpsrrr]

Like sunshine in the storm

(bakugo x reader)

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You weren’t sure when you’d first started seeing Bakugo Katsuki as more than just a classmate. Maybe it was the first time he glared at you for complimenting his explosion technique, calling you “annoying” with heat crawling up his ears. Or maybe it was later, when he stood in front of you during a villain ambush, teeth bared, blood on his lip, as if daring the world to try and touch you.

Either way, you couldn’t help the pull toward him. Like sunlight chasing the storm, you were drawn to the quiet fire beneath his growls and curses.

He, however, wasn’t making it easy.

“Oi,” Bakugo grumbled as you skipped beside him on the way back to the dorms. “Stop bouncing around like an idiot.”

You beamed at him, completely unbothered. “But it’s a beautiful day, Bakugo! The sky’s so blue!”

Bakugo glared at the sky as if it personally offended him. “Tch. Sky’s always blue. Big fuckin’ deal.”

“You’re in a mood,” you teased, nudging his arm. “Rough day in training?”

His jaw clenched. “Didn’t hit my target fast enough.”

“That’s still awesome, though! You’re amazing, Katsuki.”

His step faltered. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to you, softening for a split second before hardening again. “Shut up. Don’t butter me up.”

But your grin only widened. You’d learned long ago that behind every harsh word, Bakugo hid a hundred unspoken things. He didn’t know how to say “thanks” without baring his teeth. Didn’t know how to show he cared without pushing you away first.

So you stayed.

When the others joked that you were fearless for hanging around “angry Bakugo,” you just smiled and said, “He’s not scary.”

And maybe that’s why, later that night, when you sat outside under the stars, Bakugo found you.

“Oi.”

You looked up, startled. He stood a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, scowl softer than usual in the moonlight.

“Katsuki?” you asked, tilting your head. “What’s up?”

He hesitated. “Why’re you always so damn… happy?”

The question made you blink. “I guess… because I want to be?”

“That’s dumb.”

You laughed. “Maybe. But I like making people smile. I like making you smile.”

He turned his head away sharply, but not before you saw the faintest twitch of his lips. “Don’t waste that shit on me.”

You stood, brushing grass from your legs, stepping closer until you could see the tired shadows under his eyes. “It’s not a waste.”

He didn’t move when you touched his arm gently. Didn’t flinch when your hand slipped down to his, fingers warm against his calloused palm.

“You’re worth it, Katsuki,” you said softly.

He sucked in a breath like you’d punched him in the gut. “You’re fuckin’ stupid.”

“Maybe,” you whispered. “But you still haven’t let go.”

His grip tightened instinctively. “Don’t want to.”

And that—

That was enough.

Because in that small moment, the sunshine had broken through his storm.

And for once, Bakugo didn’t try to fight it.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

this is super short but hope u guys enjoyed!

[xmpsrrr]

Back seat confessions

inspired by the song “partition” by beyoncé

(bakugo x reader)

The city blurred past outside the sleek black car, neon lights slicing through the dark like electric veins. Inside, it smelled like leather and heat and him. Bakugo sat back, legs spread, watching you with that molten look—the one that made your stomach flip and your thighs clench.

“C’mere,” he commanded, voice low and dark, his tongue flicking across his lips. “Now.”

You didn’t hesitate. You crawled into his lap, feeling the solid press of him beneath you. His hands went straight to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he dragged you closer. The silky fabric of your dress slid higher with each movement, and his gaze followed, slow and hungry.

“Look at you,” he murmured, tracing the edge of your panties with a rough thumb. “Comin’ out tonight dressed like this… beggin’ me to fuckin’ lose it.”

Your breath hitched as he pushed the hem of your dress up to your waist, exposing you completely to his heated gaze. His hands roamed over your thighs, squeezing, spreading them wider as he settled you more firmly over his lap.

“Katsuki,” you whispered, tilting your head to let his lips find your neck.

He groaned against your skin, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. “Say it again.”

“Katsuki.”

“Fuckin’ love when you say my name like that.” His hands gripped your ass, grinding you down against his hardened length, the friction sparking heat in your core. “You’re gonna ride me, baby. Right here.”

You glanced toward the driver, but Bakugo caught your chin, forcing your gaze back to him.

“Eyes on me.” His voice was a growl. “He’s got the glass up. He can’t hear shit. Let him fuckin’ wonder.”

His lips crashed into yours, hungry and rough, teeth clashing, tongue claiming. His hands found the waistband of your panties, tugging them down impatiently, tossing them aside without care. He reached down, unzipping his pants, pulling himself free—and your breath caught at the sight of him, thick and hard in his hand, leaking at the tip.

“Take me out,” he ordered, gaze locked on yours, wild and dark. “Wanna see those pretty hands on my cock.”

You obeyed, wrapping your fingers around him, stroking slow, watching his head tip back with a hiss.

“Shit,” he groaned, his hips jerking into your touch. “Fuck, that’s it.”

He gripped your hips again, lifting you, lining himself up. His eyes bored into yours as he dragged you down onto him, inch by inch, stretching you so good it made your eyes flutter shut.

“Open those eyes,” Bakugo rasped, his breath ragged. “Wanna watch you take it all.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze as you sank fully onto him, gasping at the fullness, the way he filled every inch of you.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, forehead pressing to yours. “So fuckin’ tight. You’re killin’ me, baby.”

He gave you a second to adjust—then his hands guided you, rocking your hips slowly at first, grinding you down against him until every movement sent sparks shooting through your veins.

“Yeah,” he groaned, watching the way you moved. “Just like that. Look so fuckin’ good ridin’ me.”

You set a rhythm, bouncing in his lap, the car rocking softly beneath you as his hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples until you whimpered.

“Faster,” he ordered, snapping his hips up into you hard enough to draw a cry from your lips. “C’mon, baby. Fuckin’ take it.”

You moved faster, chasing the pleasure building between you, your moans mixing with his low, filthy praises.

“Look at you,” he growled, pulling a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. “My girl. Makin’ a mess all over my cock.”

His words pushed you closer, heat coiling tighter in your belly with every thrust. His hand slid between you, thumb circling your clit with rough precision.

“Cum for me,” Bakugo demanded, voice dark and commanding. “Right fuckin’ now. Wanna feel you squeeze me.”

And you did—shattering around him with a choked moan, trembling in his lap as he fucked you through it, not slowing, not stopping.

“Fuck,” he snarled, his grip bruising as he slammed up into you harder, faster. “Gonna fill you up, baby—take every fuckin’ drop.”

With a final deep thrust, he spilled inside you, groaning low in your ear, holding you tight as you both rode out the aftershocks together, breath mingling, sweat slicking your skin.

The car rolled on through the city, but inside? It was nothing but heat and heavy breaths and the quiet thrum of the bass.

Bakugo pressed a lazy kiss to your neck, his smirk returning as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Next time,” he rasped, biting your earlobe, “I’m fuckin’ you in the penthouse elevator.”

And you knew—this night wasn’t nearly over.

this is a little different from what i usually write, but hope u guys enjoyed!

[xmpsrrr]

Heat of the moment

(bakugo x reader)

The bass thrummed beneath your feet, the pulse of the music vibrating through ur chest as you moved rhythm. Sweat beaded at ur hairline, a grin was stretched across your face as u spun beneath the flashing club lights, letting the world blur beneath you.

you were glowing under those lights, unaware of the searing gaze fixed on you from across the room.

Bakugo leaned against the bar, one hand gripping the plastic cup so tight the rim was warping around his fingers. His jaw ticked, teeth grinding, as he watched you throw your head back laughing your hips swaying in time with the beat. You were too radiant tonight—too carefree, too damn beautiful— and you weren’t even looking at him.

He hated it.

and then he showed up.

Todoroki stepped up beside you, his usual unreadable expression was softening just a little as he whispered something in your ear. You tilted closer, cupping your hand around his shoulder so you could hear him better, your mouth to close enough to brush across his neck as you laughed again.

Bakugo’s blood boiled.

“The fuck you doin’?” he growled under his breath, his chest heaving. His nail bit into the plastic cup, until the cup completely crumbled and cracked between his fists, beer spilling down his wrist.

“Katsuki?” Kirishima’s voice barely registered over the pounding in his ears.

But Bakugo had already shoved off the bar, pushing through the crowd ignoring the startled looks he got as he stormed towards you, his expression dark and dangerous.

You turned just as reached you, a bright smile on your lips— until you caught sight of his face.

“Katsuki?” you asked, blinking in confusion “What—?”

“Outside. Now.” His voice was low and rough, a command that left no room for argument.

He grabbed your wrist— not hard enough to hurt but firm, heated—guiding you away from the dance floor, weaving between bodies until the cool night air hit your skin like a slap. He didn’t stop until you were pressed against the brick wall of the alley beside the club, his hands slamming the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

“What the hell was that?” He growled, his crimson eyes blazing.

“What was what?” you demanded, breathless, heart pounding from the suddenness of it all.

“That little stunt on the dance floor.” His face was from yours, his voice low but lethal. “Laughin’ with him. Touchin’ him.”

You frown, realization hitting your face “Todoroki? Katsuki, I wasn’t—”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he snarled. “You knew i was watchin’. You were showin’ off.”

You shook your head quickly. “No—Katsuki, I swear he was literally asking if i could teach him the right steps. that’s literally it—”

“Bullshit.” His lips twisted into a snarl, his hands curling into fists against the brick. “Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what you were doin’.”

Before you could argue again, his mouth crashed onto yours, cutting off every word.

The kiss feral—raw, desperate, claiming. His lips were rough, his teeth nipping, tongue demanding entrance, as if he was trying to burn the taste off of anyone off your lips. His hands slid down your hips, gripping tight enough to bruise as he pulled you flushed against him, his heat searing through your clothes.

“Fuckin’ driving me insane,” he rasped in your mouth between kisses. “Laughin’ like that. Dancin’ like that.” He kissed you again, deeper, rougher. “You wanna make me lose my fuckin’ mind, huh?”

You gasped, your hands curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. “I wasn’t—”

“Don’t care,” he growled, his lip tracing down your jaw, biting lightly at the hinge. “Don’t care if you meant it. You’re gonna listen now.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his voice hoarse and low but firm.

“You’re not anybody’s girl out here,” he murmured, voice trembling with the weight of the words. “You’re not for them. You’re for…me”

Not a demand. Not a claim. A truth he couldn’t swallow down anymore.

You felt something melt inside you at that confession, raw and unpolished as it was, full of frustration and vulnerability.

“Katsuki…” you whispered, cupping his face, thumbs brushing his flushed cheeks.

His lips crushed into yours again, hungrier this time, his hands sliding up your back, gripping the nape of your neck to deepen the kiss, his body pressing you harder into the wall.

“You’re gonna let me remind you, yeah?” he murmured roughly against your lips. “Gonna let me show you how fuckin’ crazy you make me?”

“Yes,” you whispered, breathless, your nails digging into his arms.

“Good.” His mouth trailed down your neck, teeth grazing, lips sucking a mark just above your collarbone. “’Cause I ain’t sharin’ that smile. That laugh. None of it.”

Your knees nearly buckled beneath the weight of his voice, the heat in his touch.

“Katsuki…”

His hands framed your face again, tilting your chin so your eyes met his burning gaze. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, softer now but still rough around the edges. “I need you to fuckin’ tell me.”

You shook your head, lips parting, dazed and dizzy from his intensity. “Don’t stop.”

A crooked smirk curved his mouth before he kissed you again—deep, possessive, messy—his hands mapping every curve, his breath ragged as the heat between you flared brighter than the neon lights inside.

And for the first time that night, Bakugo wasn’t angry anymore. Just desperate. Just yours.

hope you guys enjoyed my friend ava gave me this idea!!

[xmpsrrr]

Keep in Time

college AU | drummer!Katsuki x reader | one-shot

The first time you saw Katsuki Bakugou, he was kicking a bass pedal like it owed him money.

You were walking past the practice studios in the Fine Arts building, clutching your iced coffee and trying not to fall asleep on your feet, when a thunderclap of drums ricocheted off the hallway walls. Not rhythm. Not rehearsal. It sounded like war.

Curious—exhausted—you peered through the window of studio room 4C.

There he was: blond hair matted to his forehead, tank top clinging to a lean, powerful frame, forearms tense as he pounded the drums with raw, feral energy. Every movement was precise, furious, magnetic.

You didn’t realize you were staring until the cymbals crashed, and he looked up.

Your eyes met.

You startled, spilling coffee down your sleeve. He smirked.

You left.

You didn’t expect to see him again, not really. But your best friend Mina had a habit of dragging you to house shows on the weekends, and one night, while suffocating in someone’s sweaty basement, you saw him.

“Is that the guy from—”

“Yes. That’s Bakugou Katsuki. Drummer for Voltage Riot,” Mina said, eyes wide. “Total menace. Doesn’t even like performing, but he’s a freak on the kit.”

As if on cue, the music started.

It wasn’t clean or refined. It was chaos, barely held together, and Bakugou was the axis. He played with violence and control, driving the sound forward like the heartbeat of something bigger, louder, realer than any college band had the right to be.

He didn’t look at the crowd. Not once.

But you couldn’t stop looking at him.

You started studying outside the music rooms. Coincidence, at first. Then routine. Then intention.

Bakugou always practiced alone.

Tuesdays and Thursdays, 5 to 7. Like clockwork.

You’d sit in the hallway, back against the wall, laptop open, pretending to write while his drumming echoed faintly through the walls. It was your favorite kind of white noise—imperfect, alive, and unmistakably him.

After the third week, the door cracked open during a break.

“You stalking me or something?” he asked, toweling off sweat.

You glanced up. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He snorted. “Tch. You’re always here.”

“You’re always loud.”

He grinned—crooked and sharp—and disappeared back inside.

It kept happening.

Shared nods. Half-snatched conversations. The occasional thrown snack (“You look like you haven’t eaten in a week. Pathetic.”). He was all barbed edges, dry wit, and unreadable glances. But he never asked you to leave.

One night, you caught the end of a rehearsal. The rest of Voltage Riot filed out, laughing and punching shoulders, leaving Bakugou behind to pack up his kit.

You hovered in the doorway.

“That new track?” you asked.

He didn’t look up. “Yeah.”

“It’s… different. Slower.”

He paused. “Not everything has to be fast.”

“I liked it.”

He finally looked at you. “Good.”

Then, quieter: “I wrote it for someone.”

Your breath caught.

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to play it cool. “Anyone I know?”

He didn’t answer.

The campus showcase came two weeks later. A real venue this time. Real lights. Real sound.

You weren’t going to miss it.

Mina dragged you through the crowd until you were close enough to see the sweat on his brow, the tension in his arms. He hadn’t seen you yet. The stage lights made him look untouchable.

When Voltage Riot launched into their set, the crowd roared.

But when they hit the third song—a new one—everything changed.

The tempo dropped. The band leaned back. And Bakugou took control.

His sticks moved like second skin, every beat hitting in slow, deliberate waves. The rhythm wasn’t aggressive. It was pulsing. Controlled. Like a confession written in percussion.

You didn’t know what it meant, not exactly.

But you felt it.

At the end, he looked up. Right at you.

You smiled.

He didn’t.

He stared.

Then he dropped his sticks and walked off stage.

You found him outside afterward, behind the venue, sitting on a milk crate with a cigarette between his fingers. The streetlight haloed him in amber.

“You gonna say something?” he asked, voice low.

You crossed your arms. “I was waiting for you to.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then:

“That song—” He exhaled smoke. “I lied. I did write it for someone.”

You stepped closer. “Yeah?”

He met your eyes. “You piss me off.”

Your brows lifted.

“But I think about you every time I play. Every fucking time. You’re in my head like a goddamn metronome I can’t shut off. And I hate it.”

You smiled, heart pounding. “Sounds like a you problem.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah. It is.”

Then he stood, closing the space between you.

“Say something,” he muttered.

“I don’t like loud music,” you said.

“I know.”

“But I like you.”

That stopped him. For once, he was quiet.

Then he kissed you—quick, rough, and honest. Just like him.

He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to.

This was the start of something.

hope u guys enjoyed, this was based off a song but i forgot which 😭

[xmpsrrr]

Second guessing

inspired by the song “Love me not” by Raevyn Laene

(bakugo x reader)

The first time Bakugo said he loved you, it had been reckless.

A shout in the heat of an argument.

You were crying. He was furious. And the words exploded out of him like a grenade.

“I fucking love you, you idiot!”

You had frozen.

He had too.

Neither of you said anything after that.

Not really.

Not about that.

You both pretended it hadn’t happened — like pretending made it easier to breathe.

Like pretending made it real.

But pretending stopped working when the doubts started to creep in — eating you from the inside out.

Tonight, the apartment was too quiet.

You sat outside on the small balcony, the city’s lights bleeding into a thousand blurred stars. Bakugo’s hoodie was draped around you — oversized, heavy, smelling like him. But it didn’t stop the cold creeping under your skin.

You were tired.

Tired of wondering if he really meant it.

Tired of feeling like you were waiting for him to wake up one morning, realize he could do better, and walk away.

You heard the glass door slide open behind you. Heavy boots against the floor.

Bakugo didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there, watching you.

“You’re freezin’, dumbass,” he muttered eventually, stepping closer. His voice was rough, frustrated — but you heard the thread of concern beneath it.

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t look at him.

The silence stretched thin, painful.

Finally, he dropped down beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him against your side.

“You’re actin’ weird,” he said.

Still, you stayed quiet.

“You mad at me?” His voice was low now. Uncertain.

That was the worst part.

Bakugo Katsuki — who could fight entire armies without flinching — sounded scared to ask.

You shook your head, pulling the hoodie tighter around you. “No. I just…”

The words caught. You forced them out anyway.

“I don’t want you to stay if you don’t want to.”

Bakugo’s whole body tensed beside you.

“The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

You swallowed hard, fighting the burning behind your eyes.

“You don’t have to love me just because you said it once,” you whispered. “You don’t have to pretend.”

There was a sharp intake of breath — like you’d stabbed him.

You finally turned to look at him.

Bakugo’s face wasn’t angry.

It wasn’t annoyed.

It was wrecked.

“You think I’m fakin’ this shit?” he said, voice cracking at the edges. “You think I’d waste my goddamn time?”

You flinched. He saw it. His face crumpled even more.

“Shit. No, I…” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots like he needed the pain to ground himself. “I’m just—”

He cursed under his breath.

“I ain’t good at this.”

You waited, chest aching, every second stretching endlessly.

Finally, he spoke again. Softer.

Raw.

“When I was a kid,” he said, staring down at his hands, “everybody told me I was gonna be the best. Strongest. Perfect.” He gave a broken laugh. “And I believed ’em. Thought… if I was perfect, nobody could leave me. Nobody could… get tired of me.”

He swallowed thickly. His voice got quieter.

“But they still did. Friends. People I cared about. People who… mattered.”

Your heart twisted painfully. You reached out, your fingers brushing over his knuckles — a silent I’m here.

Bakugo flinched again — but didn’t pull away.

“I got it stuck in my fuckin’ head,” he rasped, “that no matter how strong I got, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d still lose the people I…” His voice broke for real this time. “People I loved.”

You felt your throat close up.

“And then you,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You show up. You see all the shitty parts. The temper. The pride. The fuckin’ ugly, broken pieces — and you stay.”

He finally looked up at you, and god — his eyes. They were red, furious, desperate.

“I don’t know how to trust that.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Katsuki,” you said, voice thick. “You never did.”

He exhaled a broken laugh — part disbelief, part relief.

“I love you,” he said, voice shaking. “Not ’cause I have to. Not ’cause I’m scared. Not ’cause I’m lonely.”

He leaned in, forehead pressing to yours, rough hands cradling your face like you were something precious.

“I love you ’cause you make me wanna be better,” he breathed. “Not for anyone else. For you.”

You clutched his hoodie tight around you, sobbing quietly.

“And I’m scared as fuck,” Bakugo admitted, voice hoarse. “But I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re stuck with me, you hear me?”

You nodded fiercely, unable to speak.

Bakugo kissed you then — fierce, desperate, like he was staking his claim. Like he needed you to believe it.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, tasting the salt of your shared fear, your shared hope.

When you finally pulled back, he was still holding you like he never planned to let go.

“You believe me now, dumbass?” he muttered against your hair.

You laughed through your tears, burying your face in his chest.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I believe you.”

For the first time in a long time, you weren’t second-guessing anything.

hope u guys enjoyed, i love this song.

[xmpsrrr]

Bad at love

inspired by the song “bad at love” by hasley

(bakugo x reader)

You always knew loving bakugo wouldnt always be easy to love.

He was intense in everything he did—training, fighting, living. But love? That was something he could never quite learned to hold without setting it on fire.

For awhile, you thought you could handle it. You thought if you loved him hard enough, he’d let you past the walls he built so high for himself. That eventually, he’d realize you weren’t there to change him. You were there to stand beside him.

But with Bakugo, everything was a battle—even when things shouldn’t be.

It started with the little things.

Missed calls. Short and clipped responses. The way his eyes drifted past you like he was somewhere else—somewhere different even when you were right next to him.

He never talked about it. He never talked about anything that hurt.

And you, too afraid to push him too hard, just kept swallowing your own hurt until it built up into something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

The breaking point came on a rainy night. One where the sky felt heavy, and you felt heavier.

You had shown up to his house unannounced. It was late, and you knew he was home—he always stayed cooped up in his little house especially on nights like this. pretending the silence didn’t suffocate him.

When he opened the door, his face shifted into something unreadable. Tired, Maybe. Guarded.

“What are you doing here?” his tone was rough, the warmth you once knew disappearing.

You paused, standing on his doorstep, water dripping from your jacket onto the floor “We need to talk.”

His jaw clenched “Now?”

“Yes, now”

He stepped back, letting you inside, but he didn’t meet your eyes. His house looked the same,but somewhat felt different. Like you were intruding in a space you once belonged in.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and turned towards him. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

His expression darken, frustration flickering behind his crimson eyes. “I haven’t.”

“Don’t do that,” You said, voice wavering. “Don’t act like i’m imagining things. You’ve been distant for weeks. You barely talk to me. You skip plans without telling me why, And when i ask, you shut me out.”

His silence was louder than any explosion he could’ve made.

“Just tell me what going on,” You pleaded, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “If you don’t want this anymore—if you don’t want me—just say it.”

His eyes flashed at that, lips curling into something bitter. “You think i don’t want you?”

“Then what is this, Katsuki?” you snapped, the dam finally breaking. “I don’t feel like fighting for something you’ve already given up on!”

He stared at you, his fists clenching at his sides as if he was trying to hold something back—something dangerous.

“I didn’t ask for this,” He muttered, his voice low, harsh.

The words hit harder then you expected. “For what? For someone who actually gives a damn about you?”

“You don’t get it,” He growled, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t need you to fix me.”

“I never tried to fix you!” you fired back, tears stinging your eyes. “I just wanted to be with you. To matter. But you won’t let me. You’re always running, Katsuki—running from things that scare you, even when it’s just me.”

A tense silence stretched between you too. You could see the conflict in his eyes—like he wanted to reach you but didn’t know how.

Then, he said the words that broke you.

“Then maybe i’m not who you thought I was.”

Your breath hitched, and something inside you shattered.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t explosive like everything else about him.

It was quiet, sharp, and devastating.

“Maybe you’re not,” you whispered, blinking away tears. “And maybe im done pretending that’s enough for me.”

He didn’t stop you from when you turned toward the door.

He didn’t say your name.

He didn’t beg you to stay.

He didn’t come after you.

And that hurt more than anything he could’ve said.

A year passed

A year of learning how to exist without him.

Without his rough hands, his quiet confessions when he let his walls slip, his warmth pressed against you on nights you stayed too late.

Without the person you’d given your heart to, only to have him crush it with his silence.

You tried to move on.

You filled your days with work, with friends, with anything that could keep your mind busy enough to ignore the hollow ache inside you.

You stopped checking your phone for messages that never came.

Stopped passing by places you used to visit together.

But no matter how far you ran, he haunted you.

In headlines. In glimpses of him on patrol.

In the way rain still reminded you of the night you walked away.

And then, on a stormy night that felt all too familiar, came the knock you thought you’d never hear again.

When you opened the door, you weren’t sure what you expected—but it wasn’t him.

Katsuki stood in the rain, soaked from head to toe. His usually wild hair was flattened against his forehead, droplets of water sliding down his sharp features. He looked… smaller. Exhausted.

But his eyes—those fiery crimson eyes—still burned with something you’d almost forgotten.

In his hands was a half-destroyed bouquet of your favorite flowers. The petals were wilted, drooping under the weight of the rain. A box of chocolates was tucked beneath his arm, soggy and warped from the storm.

He looked down at the ruined mess in his hands, then back at you—his expression torn between guilt and something rawer.

“I know I fucked up,” he started, voice rough and quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I know it’s been… too long. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You swallowed, your heart pounding painfully in your chest.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” you whispered, the ache of those words still heavy after all this time.

His eyes tightened, regret etched into every line of his face.

“I did want you,” he said firmly, then lowered his gaze as his shoulders slumped. “I still do. I just—” He exhaled sharply, rainwater dripping from his lashes. “I’m bad at love. I push people away ‘cause I don’t know how to… hold onto them without screwing it up.”

Your chest tightened at his admission—words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“I hurt you,” he continued, voice breaking ever so slightly. “And I hate myself for it. But I couldn’t let it end like that. Not without trying.”

He held out the ruined flowers, his fingers trembling.

“I want you back. I know I don’t deserve it, but… you can’t blame me for trying.”

Tears blurred your vision, memories of that night and every moment after rushing back all at once.

“Why now?” you whispered, barely able to speak around the lump in your throat. “Why after a year?”

His gaze met yours—raw, unguarded in a way you’d never seen before.

“Because no matter how much time passed, nothing felt right without you.” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t forget you. I didn’t want to.”

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe his words.

Slowly, you took the flowers from his hands—drooping petals and all. His breath hitched at the contact, eyes flickering with something fragile and hopeful.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Katsuki,” you said softly. “I just need you to show up. To try.”

He stepped closer, rain still clinging to his skin, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

“I’m here,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I’ll keep showing up—if you’ll let me.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you stepped aside, holding the door open for him.

“Come inside,” you said, your heart pounding with something equal parts familiar and new. “Before you catch a cold.”

He hesitated only for a second before stepping through the doorway—into the warmth, into the space where you once loved him, and where, maybe, you could learn to love him again.

Because no matter how bad he was at love…

For you?

He was willing to try.

hope you guys enjoyed, their might be a few mistakes i was trying to quickly write this 😭.

[xmpsrrr]

After the blowout

(bakugo x reader)

The training room still stank of burnt ozone and scorched rubber—your boots sliding slightly on the blackened floor as you leaned over, hands braced on your knees, lungs screaming. Your pulse thrummed at your temples, and your limbs felt like molten lead. Across the room, Bakugo stood, arms crossed, chest heaving under the weight of exertion and fury.

You barely looked up before you felt it coming.

“What the fuck was that?” he snapped, voice razor-sharp.

You straightened, slowly, sweat trailing down the side of your neck. “It was called strategy.”

“It was called stupid.” He stalked toward you, boots thudding like warning shots. “You left your back open. You let me get behind you—if I’d used even half the blast I normally would, you’d be laid out on that mat.”

You didn’t flinch. You were used to his yelling. His anger. But today, there was something else. Something unsettled. It sat in your gut like static.

“And yet here I am,” you said, shrugging.

His nostrils flared. “You think this is a game?”

“No,” you said evenly. “I think this is training. And last I checked, I’m allowed to adapt mid-fight. Maybe if you’d adjusted instead of exploding first and thinking later—”

His hand hit the wall beside your head, hard. Not touching you. But close enough that the crack of it made your breath hitch.

“You’re reckless,” he growled, leaning in. “And you piss me off. You pull these stunts like your life doesn’t mean shit—”

“I know what I’m doing,” you said sharply, heart hammering in your chest now for a very different reason.

His face was inches from yours. His breath was hot and uneven, jaw clenched tight enough to crack. But his eyes—those furious, wildfire eyes—were searching yours like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t say out loud.

“I don’t care if you know what you’re doing,” he said, quieter now. “You don’t get to put yourself in the line like that when I’m out there with you.”

The silence hit heavy. Your lips parted slightly, and you weren’t sure if you were going to fire back or breathe him in.

“Why?” you asked, throat dry.

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked to your mouth.

“You really don’t get it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was hoarse now, lower, like he was finally letting it crack. “I see you throw yourself into danger like it doesn’t mean anything, and I can’t fucking think. All I can picture is your body hitting the ground and me not being fast enough.”

The admission lodged itself in your chest like shrapnel.

You didn’t speak.

Couldn’t.

Because suddenly you were aware of every inch of space between you—and the way it felt like his body was magnetized to yours. Like some invisible thread had pulled too tight to ignore anymore.

“You don’t get to do that,” he said again, softer. His hand came up, hesitant—hesitant, from him—and brushed the side of your jaw, thumb grazing over the sweat-slick skin just below your ear. “Not when I—”

He stopped himself.

You stepped into his space anyway.

“You what?” you whispered.

His eyes locked with yours. Fire and hesitation battled in them, but when his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you forward, the hesitation lost.

He kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was Bakugo—all raw want and too much pressure and not enough air. You kissed him back with every frustrated breath you’d ever wasted on him, every sleepless night replaying your fights in your head, every almost-touch, every unsaid thing.

His other hand gripped your hip, pulling you flush against him like he couldn’t stand the space. He kissed like he fought—dominant, intense, like he needed you to feel him in your bones.

You didn’t just feel him.

You melted into him.

When you finally broke for air, your hands were in his hair, fingers curled tight. His mouth brushed your cheek, your jaw, your neck like he didn’t know how to stop. His breath was hot, shaky.

“You’re always pushing me,” he said into your skin. “Driving me crazy. And I hate how much I fucking care.”

“You’re not supposed to,” you whispered.

“Too late.”

He leaned back, just enough to look you in the eyes. His pupils were blown wide, his lips bruised and parted. “You wanna do that again?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. “Or are you gonna run like you always do?”

You stared at him.

Then you pulled him back in, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m not running,” you said against his lips. “But you’re not dragging me anywhere unless I let you.”

A slow, predatory smirk curled his mouth. “Then give me permission.”

Your answer was another kiss—harder, deeper—and the promise that this time, you weren’t going to pretend there was nothing between you.

Because something had broken.

Or maybe finally clicked into place.

hope u guys enjoyed!

[xmpsrrr]

Echos in silence

(bakugo x reader, angst)

The apartment was cloaked in a tense silence, the kind that precedes a storm. You stood infront of bakugo arms crossed, heart beating. Bakugo paced nearby, avoiding any kind of eye contact

“You can’t keep shutting me out, Katsuki,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every time something’s wrong, you act like I’m the enemy.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you with a scowl. “Maybe if you didn’t nag me every damn time I walked through the door, I wouldn’t have to.”

Your eyes widened. “Nag you? I’m trying to be there for you!”

“Well, I don’t need you to be!” he snapped. “I can handle my own shit without you hovering over me like some overbearing—”

“Overbearing?” you echoed, hurt lacing your tone. “Is that what you think of me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “I think you’re suffocating me. Always needing to talk, to fix things. Maybe I don’t want to be fixed.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. You took a step back, the emotional blow landing harder than any physical one.

“I see,” you whispered. “I’m just a burden to you.”

Bakugo’s eyes flickered with something—regret, perhaps—but he remained silent.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned away. “I can’t do this anymore,” you said, retreating to the bedroom and closing the door behind you.

Hours passed. The apartment remained silent, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards as Bakugo moved about. He sat on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen, replaying the argument in his mind.

He hadn’t meant to say those things. Not really. But the words had come out in the heat of the moment, fueled by stress and a deep-seated fear of vulnerability.

He stood and approached the bedroom door, hesitating before knocking softly.

“Y/N?” he called. No response.

He opened the door slowly, peering inside. You were lying on the bed, facing away from him, your shoulders shaking slightly.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

You didn’t respond.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “Please, talk to me.”

You flinched at his touch, pulling away.

“I need time,” you said quietly. “I need to think.”

Bakugo nodded, standing up. “Okay. Take all the time you need.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him. As he returned to the couch, he felt the weight of his actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

Days turned into weeks. The atmosphere in the apartment remained strained. Conversations were brief and superficial, the warmth that once existed between you replaced by a cold distance.

Bakugo tried to bridge the gap, cooking your favorite meals, leaving notes of apology, but the damage had been done.

One evening, you sat across from him at the dinner table, pushing food around your plate.

“I think we need to take a break,” you said suddenly.

Bakugo looked up, startled. “What?”

“I need space. Time to figure things out.”

He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again, nodding slowly.

“Okay,” he said softly. “If that’s what you need.”

You stood, grabbing your coat and keys.

“I’ll stay at a friend’s place for a while,” you said, heading for the door.

Bakugo watched as you left, the door closing with a finality that echoed in the silence.

He sat alone, the apartment now feeling emptier than ever. The realization hit him hard—he had pushed away the one person who had always been there for him.

hope u guys enjoyed, my friend ava suggested this..if u guys wanna check out her stories its avaawritess!

[xmpsrrr]

after midnight

Atsumu Miya x reader

Word Count: ~3k

you: “go home”

atsumu: practices jump serves until 2am

also atsumu: “stay. please.”

a midnight gym, a stubborn boy, one very tired (and very whipped) you. slow burn + fluff because I’m suffering

————————————————————————

The echo of your footsteps was the only sound in the empty gym. Every other member of the team had long ago packed up their bags and gone home, leaving behind only the lingering scent of sweat, chalked hands, and old varnish. It was 12:07 AM, and you’d already lost count of how many times you’d checked the clock in the last ten minutes.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You should have been asleep, or at least heading home. But you’d promised yourself—no, promised him—you would stay. Because Atsumu Miya never quit before dawn, and you refused to leave before him.

A single strip of light flickered overhead as you crossed the polished floor, toes clicking against the wood. You perched on the bottom row of the bleachers, hugging your knees to your chest, and listened for the telltale thwack of volleyball on hardwood.

A beat later, there it was: serve, set, spike—thump against the wall.

You let out a soft breath of relief. He was still here.

He emerged from the far corner of the court, volleyball tucked under one arm, hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. His practice jersey clung to him, damp and heavy. He spotted you instantly, grinning that trademark smirk that made your heart stutter.

“Finally got bored?” he drawled, tossing the ball onto the court with casual precision.

You shrugged, kicking your sneakers together. “Thought you’d never quit.”

Atsumu shrugged back, sauntering over as if he owned the place. “I never do.” He dropped onto the bleacher beside you with a theatrical sigh. “What are you doing here, anyway? It’s past midnight—shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, living a normal life?”

You tilted your head. “Normal is overrated.”

“Right,” he said, voice teasing. “And your abnormal life involves stalking me after hours?”

“Fine.” You uncrossed your legs and stood, brushing off imaginary lint. “Guilty as charged. But I do have a point.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

You pointed to the volleyball bag at his feet. “You’re going to wear out the seams before next season even starts.”

Atsumu laughed, long and genuine, and it sent a pulse through your chest. “I’m fine. Besides, practice makes perfect.”

“Practice makes obsession,” you muttered. Then louder: “Seriously, you’ve been at it for two hours nonstop. Come on, take a break.”

He stared at you, green eyes glinting in the half‑light. “And risk falling behind?”

“You risk burning out,” you countered, crossing your arms. “Burnout doesn’t look good on anyone. Not even the best setter in the prefecture.”

That last bit was unintentional—an accidental compliment that made your cheeks heat. You looked down, fiddling with the frayed cuff of your sleeve.

Atsumu’s gaze softened, and he reached out to hook his finger under your chin, lifting your face until your eyes met his. “Why do you care so much?”

Your breath caught. “I… I don’t know. You’re stubborn. I’m stubborn. Maybe we’re both terrible people.”

He let your chin go, leaning back against the metal bleacher support. “Maybe.” He glanced at the clock. “You want to see something chaotic?”

You frowned. “Isn’t this chaotic enough?”

He shook his head, standing and tossing the volleyball toward you. “Watch this.”

He dropped into his setter stance, eyes narrowing, and began a rapid‑fire series of jump serves. Each one blasted off the wall with enough force to shake the entire court—one, two, three, four in quick succession. You counted four before he paused, chest heaving, hair plastered across his eyes.

“You good?” you asked, arms crossed.

Atsumu smirked, tongue catching on his lip. “You should try it sometime.”

You narrowed your eyes, stepping onto the court. “Oh yeah? Watch this.”

Before he could protest, you dove into position and managed a half‑decent set back to him. His serve sent the ball whizzing past your ear on its return trip. You blinked at the empty net.

“Not bad,” he admitted, walking over to brush a fallen strand of hair from your forehead. His fingers lingered—warm and calloused. “But I think you missed your calling as a back‑row defender.”

Your heart hammered so hard you were sure he could hear it. You cleared your throat. “Maybe. But I’m better at… cheering people on.”

His grin was full of something—pride? amusement? something else you couldn’t put a name to. “That you are.”

The two of you ended up on the court, tossing the ball back and forth like it was a casual late‑night game. No rules, no coach’s whistle, just the thud and arc of leather. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering once, twice, then settling into a steady glow that felt almost comfortable.

You noticed things you’d never paid attention to before: the way he exhaled sharply before a serve, the slight crease between his brows when he calculated a set, the way his hair glowed gold in the artificial light. You dared to ask:

“Do you ever think about quitting?”

He paused mid‑serve, the ball resting on his fingertips. For a second, you saw something in his eyes—tiredness, maybe, or fear. Then he shook his head and served. “Never.”

You caught the ball awkwardly and set it to his chest. “Even if you wanted to?”

Atsumu caught your eye, smile fading into something softer. He caught your serve, rolled the ball under one foot, and turned to face you fully. “If I ever thought I couldn’t do it anymore… I’d quit for one person.”

Your pulse spiked. “Who?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stared, lips parted, as if the words were on the tip of his tongue but too heavy to release. The silence stretched, a taut thread in the night.

Finally, he exhaled. “You.”

Your heart lurched, eyes widening. “Me?” you whispered.

He nodded, a slow, deliberate motion. “Yeah.” His gaze softened. “Because you’re the only one who sees the real me. Not the show‑off setter who can’t miss a serve. You see the guy who can’t afford to let his guard down.”

You swallowed. “It’s okay to let your guard down.”

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. “Not around anyone else.”

You lifted a hand, gently touching his shoulder. “I’m not anyone else.”

A beat passed. Then he closed the distance, forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I know.”

Your world narrowed to the two of you, a heartbeat apart, the basketball‑smell of the gym mixing with the pounding of your pulse. You could feel the weight of everything unsaid between you—his relentless drive, your stubborn concern, the weeks of stolen glances during practice.

“Stay with me, tonight,” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, breathless. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He smiled—soft, vulnerable, real. And then he kissed you, gentle at first, testing, as if he was afraid you might disappear. When you didn’t pull back, he deepened the kiss, pressing you against the cold metal of the bleacher support. Your hands found the back of his neck, tangling in his damp hair.

The world tilted. There was no time, no space—just the two of you, after midnight, finally collapsing into each other

When you broke apart, the clock read 12:59 AM. You both stayed silent, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

He kissed your temple. “We should… you know, go home.”

You laughed softly. “Home.” Your fingers traced the muscle at the base of his neck. “This place isn’t home for me—unless you’re here.”

He blinked, heart in his throat. “Then let’s make it our thing. After midnight… you and me.”

You smiled, the kind that made your cheeks hurt. “It’s a deal.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of confessions and stolen kisses. You talked about everything—his childhood summers spent training endlessly, your dreams of becoming a writer, the fear you each held of being good enough. He taught you how to set properly; you taught him to let go, even if just for a moment.

By the time you finally walked out of the gym at 2:13 AM, the air was crisp with approaching dawn. Your fingers were threaded together, steps in sync, as if you’d been dancing this routine for years.

Atsumu paused at the door, turning to you with that cocky grin softened by something like awe. “You’re stuck with me.”

You bumped him with your shoulder. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He laughed, the sound bright against the hush of the early morning. “Good.”

He pulled you close, forehead to forehead, and whispered, “After midnight… it’s where everything starts.”

You smiled, heart full. “Then let’s never leave.”

And as the first pale light of dawn touched the horizon, you and Atsumu Miya walked into a new day—together, at last, in a slow‑burn love story that only became real after midnight.