Monoma - Blog Posts

I read this all and I was not disappointed

Yandere Monoma x Reader (smut)

Summary: I’m ashamed of this lmfao. No body asked for this I’m simply posting it. You’re in your senior year, you have a special kink that only Monoma can fulfill. I didn’t proof read lmfao. An absolute mess Let’s gooo.

Warnings: Smut, squirting, kinda intense sex, boundary pushing, but consensual.

You didn’t know monoma well, you remember he was kind of weird about your class, he honestly seemed kind of nuts. You found him attractive, but you felt that way about most of your school mates. But weirdly enough, he had a particular vibe that fit a specific kink you had. You, were a woman of unique appetites. An appetite for men who are bat shit insane.

One afternoon, both of your classes had spent the final year of school’s New Years eve together, you watched as a certain blonde boy with grey eyes monologued about your classes being inferior to his, amused and slightly put off by his demeanor, before he’s swiftly chopped by class B’s rep.

As your eyes are focused on him, behind you are mumbles from your classmates.

“Their class rep is always tending to monoma, are they dating?”

“Nah That guy is insane, I can’t imagine him being in a relationship,”

You nodded in agreement, you couldn’t imagine him in a committed relationship either. But you could imagine him fucking you into your head board, rocking it against the wall as he bottomed out inside of you, disgusting noises filling the roo- “are you okay, y/n?” Yaoyarozu asked, snapping you out of your daydream. You gasp in surprise, ripping your gaze away from monoma, mid lip bite to look at your friend. “What? Yeah,” you assure her. “You sure?” She seems genuinely concerned, completely unaware of what you were doing.

You nod your head quickly, clearing your throat and coming back to reality.

Later that night you make your way to monoma’s room, you breathe in slowly before knocking as quietly as you could do you wouldn’t alert his dorm mates. A short time passes and your heart races. Was this stupid? What if he thinks you’re creepy for what you’re going to ask him? But before you can turn and press the undo button, Monoma opens the door. He’s wearing a black hoodie and sweat pants, he has an earbud in and you can see behind him his desk light on with text books and notes.

He seems surprised to see you standing in his doorway, unsure of what you could want. “Y/n?” He asks. “Monoma,” you say, nervousness catching in your throat.

He blinks, waiting for you to respond.

You breathe a sigh harshly out, and caress your wrist to comfort yourself. “This is kind of embarrassing but we’re both adults here...” your question trailed off and he raised an eyebrow.

You gulp and continue. “ you have a...vibe... that I find... hot,” you stop and search through his eyes for consent to continue. He smirks, wide, uncrossing his arms and holding his hands on both sides of the door frames, his arms feel like wings cornering you.

You nervously smile. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in some... friendly... coitus...” you chuckle, knowing that was a weird way to ask that question.

Monoma’s smirk transforms from a narcissistic shit eating grin to a devious, snickering sneer. His eyes darken as he reaches his hand out and time seems to slow. For a moment you’re not sure what he’ll do, as he reaches a finger out to touch your skin, goosebumps erupt in you. He lifts your chin with a single finger, gently. You swallow hard and he forces you to make eye contact with him. Monoma leans in close and whispers “I’m flattered, lamb” he mingles the hand that was holding you chin up to your jaw, the hand that was cradling you in makes its way to your waist.

He guides you back to the wall across from his open door in the hallway of the dorms. Monoma pushes you up the wall to wrap your legs around his waist. He kisses you deeply, eagerly shoving his tongue into your mouth. He wraps a hand around your throat and squeezes lightly, coaxing a moan out of you which vibrates into his mouth.

This must’ve pleased Monoma because he groans and pulls out of the kiss. He takes a moment to look you up and down, which allows you a second to breathe. You look up at him with big doe like eyes, asking for mercy, but craving for him to continue. You look down at your clothes which are, by now, wrinkled and messy, but before you could attempt to fix them, Monoma grabs your wrist and brings you into his room.

He guides you to the bed and gestures for you to lay down. You lay awkwardly, unsure of where to put your arms, you settle with resting them over your stomach, insecure of how you might look from this angle. You look up at him, nervously, biting your lip as if to plead for him to go faster in order for you to no longer feel so uncomfortable. He smirks at your nervousness, seeming to enjoy it. He stands tall above you, gently caressing your skin. “You’re a beauty, aren’t you? I’ve noticed you too, you know. You look so delicious in your Hero’s outfit,” he licks his lips as he slowly and gently unbuttons your shirt.

“I wanna hear what it is about me that drew your gaze,” His voice is a low rumble as he lowers himself on top of you. Monoma begins to kiss up your jawline and you begin to notice that he smells of burgundy and leather. “Go on,” he coos, biting your ear gently.

‘God this is so embarrassing’ you think, covering your mouth with your hand. Muffled, you answer “R-respectfully, your whole villian-esque manic thing, is sexy to me.... I want you to be like that... in bed,” you cover your whole face when you finish that sentence. You feel him smile against your neck, and then he gives a little nibble. “That can be arranged, Lamb,” he snickers, guiding his fingers from your jawline, down your throat, over your breasts, lifting up your skirt, and gently caresses your lower region, making you shudder.

Neito lightly traces the outside of your panties, carefully watching the quickness of your chest raising and lowering. He nudges open your thighs, wider, displaying your groin in full view. He bites his lip and shoots you a look, clearly enjoying your submission to him. You cover your face again, nervously.

He makes direct eye contact with you as he enters a digit into your heat. Monoma moans as his fingers are sucked in by your body. “Oh wow, lamb,” he grins “I’m addicted immediately, you feel so warm and wet, your pussy muscles are constricting around me I feel like my fingers being eaten,” He laughs. “Monoma! That’s obscene!” You slap his shoulder playfully, covering your face with your free hand. He smiles sweetly and kisses your cheek “no no y/n, it’s not! Here, listen,” he begins to fuck you with his fingers, creating wet, squishing and slapping noises and you begin to realize you’re going to release liquid everywhere if he keeps this up. “M-mo-“ you moan out, push on his chest in protest.

He moans. “Yes, lamb, go ahead, scream my name,” he thrusts his finger faster, curling up in a circular motion, hitting your spot just right that you raise your hips up. “Monoma-wait!” He was moving so fast, at an inhuman speed, it was too much for you to handle, and before you could stop yourself, Monoma removes his hand and you squirt all over his bed.

Appalled, you gasp, and slam your thighs together. “I-I’m so sorry,” you’re mortified, but monoma’s already licking his hand and finger, moaning as he does. “Monoma...” you protest, rubbing your thighs together, unable to hide how wet you are from this treatment.

You look down and notice Monoma palming his thick, throbbing erection through his sweatpants. You moan in anticipation. He pulls his sweatpants down and his cock springs up, it’s longer than it is thick, and veiny. He leans down and kisses you, deeply before pushing his cock into your cunt. You grip his hoodie as a stress ball as Monoma pushes his cock balls deep into you and stops. “Ahh!” You squeal, “Mo-m—ah!” He sighs into your ear, “good girl, y/n, this pussy of yours is like a drug to me I just can’t help myself, lamb,” he begins to slowly thrust in and out, and he moans loudly, sitting straight up, holding your legs open.

He starts thrusting faster, and faster; Monoma above you blubbering rapidly, pounding your pussy like he wasn’t human.

The feeling was unreal, his huge cock stretching your pussy with every thrust in, and providing sweet pleasure on every pull out. He’s above you, those maniacal, crazed eyes, smiling with that famous, unstable grin.

“Y/n, your cunt is squelching on my dick, you’re so wet, Y/N, I suppose it’s only natural,” he’s like a tower above you while fucking into your slit, his hands on your knees, securing that his prey can’t deny him his meal.

He leans down suddenly, licking up your neck to your ear, sending chills up your spine. You gasp and he whispers “because you want me, don’t you, y/n? You’ve wanted me for so long haven’t you? Admit it, y/n, you’ve watched me for years. You’ve fucked this pussy—“ he slows down and fucks you slower, the sound of skip slapping and juices gushing louder than you were comfortable with. “—while thinking about ol’ neito, don’t you? And now that you’ve got my cock in you, you’re high on ecstasy,” You’re shocked by his vulgarness, something about the way he curses is more offensive than if anyone else were to, and the dirty things, ten fold. “Monoma!” You protest, this was psychologically over stimulating, but that only turned you on more. He gently grips your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth, you oblige apprehensively. Monoma spits in your mouth, and you realize, he’s right, you are high on his cock, because you’re so horny that you moan, and swallow it.

“Good girl,” he smirks wide, fucking you harder as a reward. You feel yourself growing closer to your peak, you moan “monoma... monoma,” he laughs hysterically. “That’s it, my lamb, submit, submit to your true self. It’s only natural, it’s apart of our human nature, let out your hedonistic side for me, y/n,” he monologues, raising his arms up manically, going full villain, just like you asked.

You’re growing closer and closer as he pounds into you, when he reaches down and puts his fingers into your mouth. As you suck the salt off his digits, moaning wildly, you reach your release, squirting all over his dick. “Neito!” you give a muffled scream as he quickly covers your mouth to keep the rest of the dorm from hearing anymore than they already had.

You’re over stimulated from cumming, and monoma begins fucking you harder and faster, chasing his high with vigor. His eyes are completely glazed over, like he’s in a trance right before he comes inside.

After a few moments he plops down next to you. You breathe heavily and smile at him. “Exactly what I wanted, thank you... please let me wash your beddings though,” you run your fingers through his blonde hair.

Question would you do a class 1-b of the explosive love or is it truly over? (my lungs have been full of laughter from it all)

Explosive Love: Part 7 – Class 1-B’s Babysitting Disaster

A/n, I added jiro bc, why not🫡

Pairing: Kirishima x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Class 1-B and Their Unique Babysitting Experience

Genre: Chaos, Crack Comedy, Baby Gas Wars

Summary: After hearing about the legendary struggles of Class 1-A, Class 1-B believes they can handle things way better. They don’t need a plan—just confidence. Spoiler: They were wrong. Very, very wrong.

---

“We’ve got this!”

Kendo, confident as ever, waved her hand as she stared at the baby in Kirishima’s arms. “Class 1-B doesn’t need a fancy strategy. We’re heroes in training. This is nothing!”

Tetsutetsu pumped his fist in the air. “Yeah! We’re tough enough to handle anything!”

“You guys sure about this?” you asked, looking at your baby, who was already cooing and glaring in their direction.

“Totally! We’ve got teamwork! We’ve got brains!” Kendo grinned, a little too widely. “Let’s do this!”

Kirishima turned to you and whispered, “Should we warn them?”

You shook your head. “Let them learn the hard way. We survived this chaos. They will, too.”

---

T+5 Minutes:

The plan was simple: Kendo would handle the baby while the others prepared snacks and games.

“Alright, little one!” Kendo smiled down at the baby. “Ready for a fun day?”

The baby gurgled and farted.

“Hmm,” Kendo raised an eyebrow, but she pressed on. “That’s a little... unexpected. No biggie, though.”

PFFFT.

The others exchanged nervous glances.

“That was... powerful,” Ibara murmured.

Kendo, ever the optimist, ignored the baby’s warning signs and decided to try a gentle lullaby. “Hush little baby...”

PHBRRRTT.

Kendo paused, her smile faltering.

“That one had vibration,” Ibara noted, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay,” Kendo said, trying to keep her cool. “Maybe she’s just gassy. No big deal. Just... relax.”

---

T+12 Minutes:

The whole team was huddled in the living room now. Kendo was still holding the baby, though the team had taken up defensive positions.

Manga began sketching diagrams of escape routes. “I think we need a plan B... and C... and maybe D.”

Tetsutetsu, trying to impress, stood by with a bottle of milk. “Maybe this will help calm her down! I’ve got this!”

The baby eyed him suspiciously.

PFFFT.

Tetsutetsu jumped back like he’d been hit by a rocket. “WHAT THE HELL?!” he yelped, clutching the bottle like a shield.

Kendo sighed. “Okay. So, we’re not handling this as smoothly as I thought.”

---

T+22 Minutes:

Jurota was in charge of distracting the baby with toys while Kendo attempted a strategic diaper change.

“Jurota, you’ve got this, right?” Kendo asked, holding up a toy rattle. “She’s really into sound, so just—”

Before she could finish, the baby farted again. This time, it was a long one.

Jurota, who had been holding the rattle, dropped it and quickly backed away.

“I didn’t sign up for this! I thought it was just a normal baby!” Jurota cried, his face pale.

“I swear she’s aiming for me,” Tetsutetsu shouted from behind the couch. “I feel the pressure!”

---

T+35 Minutes:

The room was now a war zone.

Kendo, the ever-hopeful leader, was sweating. “We need to regroup,” she muttered. “We need... We need a strategic intervention!”

The baby, sensing weakness, let loose.

PFFFT

PBRRRRTTT

PBBT-TSSSSSS...

Kendo held her hands up. “Okay! We need a team effort! Shoji, you try distracting her with your extra arms. Ibara, you handle the snacks. Jurota, keep it together!”

Ibara carefully arranged some snacks. “I don’t think snacks are going to help this situation.”

“I’m gonna pass out,” Jurota groaned. “Is she cursed? Is this a curse?!”

Meanwhile, Jiro was completely overwhelmed. “Guys, I don’t have a soundproof speaker for this level of... chaos.”

Manga finally gave up and wrote: “Subject: baby. Threat Level: Explosive.”

---

T+45 Minutes:

Kendo had lost all hope.

“I’m sorry, I was too optimistic,” she muttered.

The baby looked up at her with big, innocent eyes and let out one final, massive fart.

Everyone in the room flinched.

“THAT’S IT! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Tetsutetsu yelled, running toward the door. “THIS IS HELL!”

“We... we didn’t even try the baby wipes,” Kendo said softly, defeated.

---

Final Tally:

Kendo: Crushed by baby gas.

Tetsutetsu: Traumatized and refuses to even look at a bottle.

Manga: Analyzed the situation, concluded they had all made a terrible mistake.

Shoji: Vowed never to babysit again.

Jurota: Physically and emotionally drained.

Ibara: Retired from all babysitting duties.

Jiro: Still recovering from the sonic levels of flatulence.

Momo: Watching from the sidelines, unaffected, with a notebook full of new inventions for future diaper duty.

---

When you and Kirishima returned, you found Class 1-B sprawled on the floor, completely broken.

Kendo weakly raised a hand. “She’s... a powerhouse.”

“She’s a menace,” Tetsutetsu whimpered.

“And we’re never doing this again,” Manga finished, his face still pale.

The baby, in your arms, giggled.

Kirishima smiled warmly, “Good job, everyone! It’s a learning experience!”

You nodded. “Yeah, let’s never do this again.”

Need... Worried asf monoma x barely alive reader who got their ass sent to the hospital... Shit ton of angst and a fluffy ending and my life is yours unc 🙏🙏

what silence held | n. monoma

the mission went wrong. she didn't make it out whole. he held what was left, whispering promises and apologies into bloodstained skin, praying she'd come back just once more. (2407 words)

neito monoma had always been a figure sculpted from layers of meticulous deflection and purposeful arrogance, a carefully constructed image designed to repel rather than invite closeness. beneath that armor, however, lay an earnestness few had glimpsed, an admiration that had quietly rooted itself deep within him, growing stronger with every interaction he had shared with you—an admiration he kept stubbornly hidden behind sarcasm and rivalry.

but now, standing rigid and hollow-eyed before the stark hospital window separating him from your battered form, monoma felt every carefully laid barrier crumble beneath the weight of profound fear. the clinical white lights cast sharp, unforgiving reflections across the polished floors, illuminating your frail, unmoving figure beneath the sterile sheets. the stark contrast between your vibrant spirit—once so full of stubborn resolve—and the battered body now sustained by machines cut deep into his consciousness, a visceral pain he'd never known before.

your body was a ruin.

blood still crusted around the stitches at your temple, a wound that split your skin down to the bone. your left eye, swollen shut, was purpled nearly black. dried blood rimmed your nostrils. deep bruises bloomed across your collarbone and arms, fingerprints in violent shades of plum and yellow. a jagged gash peeked from beneath the gauze on your abdomen, where they'd reopened you twice due to internal bleeding. a rib had pierced your lung. he'd overheard the doctors say it was a miracle you'd made it to the hospital at all.

inside the room, it was too quiet.

the low whir of the oxygen machine, the faint hiss of air being pushed into your lungs, the soft, consistent beeping of the heart monitor—it should have been reassuring. instead, it felt like a countdown, like a fragile metronome ticking away the seconds you might have left. monoma sat motionless in the corner of your room, the plastic chair beneath him stiff and biting. the rhythmic tick of the wall clock carved into his skull with every passing second, each one sounding louder than the last.

he hated it. hated the silence. hated the way it filled his ears and forced him to listen to the slow, labored breaths you weren't taking on your own. hated the sterility, the scent of antiseptic that clung to the air like guilt. he wanted to scream, but the moment he opened his mouth, nothing came. just the sound of that damned beeping.

monoma sat in rigid silence, watching as your chest rose with the help of the machines, not strength. not anymore. all he could do was sit there and remember. not the good memories. no—the last thing he wanted, the thing he couldn't stop seeing, was how it happened. how you ended up like this. how he let you end up like this.

and then he was back there.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

the air was thick with smoke and ash, turning daylight into a choking haze that painted the battlefield in bruised, sickly hues. rubble littered the ground, the shattered remains of buildings cracked open like bone, and the screams of distant civilians echoed behind the veil of destruction. fires burned unchecked, consuming what little structure remained. it was the kind of scene that stripped away any illusion of heroism—just ruin, blood, and the desperate need to survive.

monoma was bleeding.

he stumbled behind a half-collapsed wall, hand pressed tightly against his ribs, where something inside cracked with every breath. he had copied a quirk minutes ago—strength, maybe, or speed—but the user had gone down too fast, and now the power was bleeding out of him like the rest of his strength. he was running on fumes. his vision was doubled. he was useless.

he was alone.

except for you.

you were still standing. just barely.

ahead of him, through the smoke and flame, you faced the villain who had carved through half your team like wet paper. their quirk was monstrous—pure kinetic manipulation, an ability that turned every limb into a wrecking ball. every punch split concrete. every kick ruptured the earth. the sheer pressure rolling off their body was suffocating.

and you stood in front of it.

you were a wreck. blood soaked your shirt, a dark patch blooming from your side where a rebar had grazed your abdomen. one of your arms dangled slightly off-kilter—dislocated or broken, monoma couldn't tell. your face was almost unrecognizable: your cheek had split open, swollen to the size of your fist, and one eye had completely shut from the bruising. blood matted your hair and dried at the corners of your mouth. your jaw trembled with exhaustion.

but your legs held. barely.

"stay down," the villain growled, voice grating through clenched teeth. "i'll make it quick."

you spat blood at their feet. "you first."

monoma wanted to scream.

you moved first.

you ducked under the first blow. the wind it produced nearly knocked you off balance. you countered, striking fast—a jab to the ribs, a glowing blast of energy from your fingertips—but it only staggered them.

then they retaliated.

their elbow cracked against your jaw with the force of a sledgehammer. monoma saw your teeth snap together hard, blood spraying as your head snapped to the side. you crumpled against a lamppost, rebounded, and charged again with reckless, suicidal momentum.

he wanted to stop you. he wanted to grab your wrist and scream that it wasn't worth it.

but he couldn't even stand.

the villain slammed their foot into your stomach, lifting you off the ground. you flew ten feet and landed with a sound that monoma never wanted to hear again—flesh hitting stone, followed by silence. a wheeze escaped you, thin and wet.

you pushed up on shaking elbows, coughing violently. blood spilled from your mouth. you were wheezing, your breath broken like cracked glass. you reached for the pavement, tried to draw strength into your limbs, but your knees collapsed.

still, you got up.

monoma watched in horror as the villain lunged again.

they grabbed you by the throat and lifted you from the ground. your legs kicked weakly, a final show of resistance. your fingers clawed at their wrist, tearing at the skin, but you couldn't breathe.

they slammed you into a wall.

then the ground.

then again.

you weren't even screaming anymore. just hoarse, rasping gasps.

they punched you in the stomach. once. twice. three times. each hit echoed with a sickening crush. blood streamed freely from your mouth and nose. your arms dropped. your eyes rolled. your head lolled.

monoma could barely see. he was crawling—literally dragging himself across the pavement, nails scraping along the broken asphalt. he left a trail of blood behind him, from his own split skin, from your splattered remains.

you made a noise. it wasn't a word. just something small. a protest. a whimper.

the villain dropped you like a broken doll.

you didn't move.

monoma reached you in time to catch your head before it hit the ground. your face was slack, your eyes glassy. blood bubbled at your lips. he could feel the broken ribs beneath your skin, the sick heat of internal bleeding pressing against your side.

your chest fluttered. barely breathing.

your lips moved.

he leaned in. "don't—don't talk. you're okay. you're okay, just hold on."

your fingers twitched. you tried to raise your arm, but it fell uselessly.

and then, the villain turned.

monoma looked up. he met their eyes—calm, detached, like they were already moving past this scene.

he didn't have the strength to fight. he didn't even have the strength to stand.

but he spread himself over your body anyway, shielding what little was left of you.

sirens in the distance. voices. shouting. too far. too late.

he screamed your name. screamed for help until his voice cracked.

when the others finally arrived, they had to pry his fingers off you. he was still trying to hold your head. still whispering, "she's still breathing," even though you weren't.

they started cpr before they got you on the gurney.

monoma watched the chest compressions. the blood that seeped through the gauze. the oxygen mask they fitted over your mouth. the way your body jolted with every push.

he saw them restart your heart.

twice.

he saw the paramedic shake their head.

he rode in the ambulance. he held your hand the entire way.

and he didn't realize he was still whispering your name until they pulled him off at the er doors, dragging him back as the double doors slammed shut between you.

and he stood there, hands shaking, blood everywhere, not knowing if you were alive or already gone.

and in that moment, monoma broke.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

his body jolted forward, dragged violently back into the present. the smell of blood still clung to his nose, phantom pain still pulsed in his chest where he'd slammed against the pavement. but your hand was still there. still in his. and barely—just barely—you were still breathing.

he stood up suddenly and crossed to your bedside, dragging the chair behind him, the legs screeching softly against the floor. he took your hand into both of his, warming it with his touch, rubbing gently like he could coax life back into you through sheer willpower. his thumbs traced the bones beneath your skin, too sharp now, too still.

"you always did chase trouble," he whispered again, throat raw. "always leaping into things like you were invincible. i admired it, you know. even when i mocked you, i admired it."

he swallowed, breath shaking. "you make people braver just by standing beside them. you make me braver. and i hate how much i didn't say it before."

his voice wavered as he leaned forward. "you have to wake up. i need you to wake up."

the monitor continued its measured beeping.

and then, in an instant, that beeping stuttered. changed. slowed.

it was like watching a glass fall from a ledge. monoma's head snapped toward the monitor.

then the alarm.

the shrill wail of the machines filled the room, loud and final. flatline.

"code blue! room 308!"

monoma stumbled back as a tidal wave of medical staff poured into the room. hands gripped his arms, pulling him away, guiding him to the wall.

your body convulsed once under the defibrillator's shock. a nurse straddled the bed, counting out compressions as another prepared the next jolt. the beeping was gone. it had been replaced by that long, singular tone—flat and cruel.

he could see the color draining from your face. could see how your limbs had fallen loose, like strings cut from a marionette. you weren't breathing. your chest didn't rise. and he felt something inside him crack wide open.

the compressions were brutal. blood bubbled at your lips from the force of them, smeared across your cheek as your head lolled uselessly to the side. the nurse's hands were slicked in it. every thrust against your sternum echoed in monoma's ribs like he was being punched himself.

"again! clear!"

the jolt lifted your chest off the bed. still nothing.

one of the nurses looked up at another, eyes wide. "her vitals are too unstable. i—i don't know if we're going to get her back."

"we keep going!" another shouted, voice fraying at the edges. "she's young. she can still fight."

but doubt was a living thing in the room now. it crept through the gaping silence between the shocks, through the gory mess staining your gown, through the flatness of your chest.

monoma shoved against the arm trying to steady him. "please," he said, voice low and strangled. "please just—just do something. don't let her—don't let her die."

he was shoved back as they resumed cpr. he could hear bones breaking. could hear his own blood in his ears, roaring.

he was watching you die.

and then.

a single, weak beep.

then another.

the line began to flutter, erratic but blessedly alive. the flat tone faded into silence.

"we have a pulse!"

monoma collapsed into the nearest chair like a marionette cut loose. his hands were shaking violently. he reached for your hand again—still cold, still limp—but now, thankfully, attached to something living.

he didn't speak for hours. couldn't. his voice felt locked somewhere deep in his chest, behind the weight of what he'd seen. what he'd almost lost.

—

days passed in a haze.

he hardly left the room. ate only when someone forced him. he sat beside you, head bowed, whispering things you couldn't hear but said anyway. apologies. promises. secrets.

he memorized the peaks and valleys of the monitor's readout, flinched at every hiccup in the rhythm. he learned the shift rotations of the nurses, knew which ones brought your meds, which one checked the iv. he hated all of them for seeing you like this.

when your fingers twitched, he almost didn't notice.

then, they moved again.

he sat bolt upright. "y/n?"

your eyes fluttered, unfocused. your lips parted. "neito..?"

the breath he exhaled was more like a sob. "you're awake. you're really awake."

you tried to smile. "i feel like i got hit by a truck."

he laughed, broken and soft. "you look like it too. but you're here."

silence stretched between you again. but this time, it was the kind that held weight.

there were things in the air—things he had left unsaid. things you'd never had the chance to hear.

monoma reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your forehead. "there's something i have to tell you."

you blinked slowly, but your gaze was steady. "okay."

"i can't... i can't keep pretending i don't care. you've always meant more to me than i let on. i admire you. i rely on you—" he paused, breath catching. "i love you. i didn't know how badly until i thought you were gone."

your breath caught too—but not from weakness. your eyes softened, a glint of warmth returning to your face.

"i think i've been waiting to hear that for a long time."

monoma swallowed hard, trying and failing to suppress the tremor in his hands. "then i'm sorry it took almost losing you to say it."

you smiled, slow and tired. "i forgive you. but you're not getting rid of me that easily."

he leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against yours. the machines continued to beep, slow and steady. for the first time in days, monoma let himself close his eyes.

"then i'm not going anywhere. ever."

reason #3 | n. monoma

⇨ it was just a list. a dumb, petty, handwritten list of all the reasons class 1-a is the worst. but your name stood out, and now he can't stop talking to you... or thinking about you

I love monoma, so wanted to draw him. He is pretty much in patrol looking for something, also I have no ideia how to draw buildings so its really bad

you know what i just fucking realized today?

Monoma is just fanon Bakugo. like he is CANONLY how the fandom / Bakugo fans see Bakugo.

He has a serious underlying issue that's the cause of his rude behavior. he respects women, ie, defending Uraraka when EVERYONE was doubting her during the sports fest, and literally looking the opposite direction when that stupid fuckwad tricked the 1-a girls into wearing those cheerleading outfits. he's extremely insecure, and he's actually nice to his classmates.

Bakugo on the other hand was canonly spoiled as a child. he had a god complex that was shattered and that's the closest thing to a reason for his behavior. he simply refused to go easy on Uraraka just because she's a girl but for some reason the fandom makes it waaayyy more than it actually was.

but for some reason the fandom decided that Monoma was the bad one out of the two just because "he's annoying", and writes him as this homophobic, sexist bully who, in reality, is a good fucking character.

Coloreanding y estrenanding #Procreate con el hermoso de #Monoma 🥰💕✨ . . #bokunoheroacademia #myheroacademia #digitalart #digitalillustration #monomaneito #class1b #mhafanart https://www.instagram.com/p/CV_Q3tcv7_9/?utm_medium=tumblr

this took a while but finally finished the color wheel challenge i did on twitter :D it was so much fun !!!

please consider when Midoriya and Monoma are pro heroes:

Midoriya got a letter in the mail today. This normally wouldn't be unusual, seeing as he's a pro hero he receives fan mail all the time. This letter, however, in bright bold red letters on the front, says 'TOP SECRET, FOR MIDORIYAS EYES ONLY'.

He had assumed it was a letter from the hero commission regarding a new mission or something of the sort. While it was rather strange, they sent him a letter instead of an email, Midoriya took the letter inside with urgency.

Still, under the assumption this was a mission from the hero commission, Midoriya didn't take the time to find his letter opener. Pulling out the contents, this wasn't a mission. The pages were full of romantic words and cheesy date ideas. A pickup line here, a description of his face and where the author wanted to kiss there. Line after line, page after page, Midoriya was bright red.

And right there, at the bottom of the last page. In black ink it read, 'Love, Neito'.

This 'classified information' was instead a love letter from his dimwit of a husband.

au where Monoma and Midoriya become streamers/YouTubers, but none of their fans know that they're dating. So like picture their fan's surprise when they see Midoriya walk past Monoma's camera in his underwear.

The first time Midoriya sees Monoma wearing glasses he gets so distracted by the sight of it that he walks into a wall.

what are your top 3 favorite pairings for Monoma my boy

OO!! Fun question :D

My top pair would obvi be monodeku! I forget why I originally first started shipping them but I slowly became obsessed with them :)!

Number two would probably be shinsou!! I really enjoy their dynamic both romantically and platonically :D

ANNND number three is todoroki! Which I know sounds strange but I really enjoy monoma finding the top members of class 1-A attractive. It's makes me giggle! I mostly enjoy them platonically but romantically they're fun as well :)

Monoma: I'm kind of crushing on someone but I'm worried about telling you who it is because I don't think you'll like it…

Shinsou: Just rip the bandage off.

Monoma: It's Midoriya.

Shinsou: Put the bandage back on.

midoriya: Must be hard not being able to laugh

monoma: I do have a sense of humor you know

midoriya: I’ve never heard you laugh before

monoma: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

then they made out

as pro heroes, during an integration:

midoriya, to the criminal: Jail is no fun. I’ll tell you that much.

monoma: Oh, you’ve been?

midoriya: Once. In Monopoly.

I DREW MONOMA AS THAT ONE TODOROKI SCENE GUYS !!

I'm honestly not tooo confident in how this looks but its whatevez :) I hope you guys like it !!

monodeku canon (real and true trust me)

Doodles :)

They dance :)

Monodeku is literally just:

monoma: we can't be in love!! were forbidden rivals, forever fainted to be in a limbo between hatred and romance <//3

Midoriya: Okay!! but youre pretty <3

Monoma: Nooooo!! the rivalry!!

Literally anyone else: you do realize you're the only one holding yourself to these standards right??

Horikoshi sketch 06/08 [x]

😉

Monoma scene redraw

Original scene: