Neito Monoma X Reader - Blog Posts

•Es completamente egoísta, sólo se preocupa por sí mismo.

•Piensa solamente en su propio beneficio.

•No trata bien a ninguna persona, no tiene buen tacto para las relaciones.

•Su lealtad es dudosa.

•Al menos eso es lo que piensa la mayoría de las personas al conocerlo.

•No saben que su actitud cambia totalmente en el momento en que está con su pareja.

•En realidad, trata a su pareja de la mejor manera.

•Claro, mantiene parte de ese egoísmo, pero de diferente manera, más posesiva.

•No consideran que nadie, aparte de sí mismo, sea digno de tu atención.

•No tiene problema alguno en elogiar a su pareja, su pareja ni siquiera tiene que pedirlos, él mismo lo hace porque te considera digno de alabanza.

•Contigo se muestra sin reservas, sabe que puede mostrarse tal como es sin dar explicaciones.

•Te hará prometer que nunca le contarás a nadie el cómo es contigo, no quiere que los demás se enteren de su vulnerabilidad.

•Esa personalidad suave sólo está reservada para ti.

• Michael Kaiser, Gyokko, Neito Monoma, Bakugo Katsuki, Byakuya Togami...

Se considera muy inteligente y con mucho conocimiento, te intentará impresionar con palabras que suenan sofisticadas (probablemente no entiende completamente el significado de la palabra).

• Zantetsu Tsurugi, Neito Monoma, Jafar...

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.

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."

𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚 𝐱 𝐔𝐀 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 @haikyuubby

MEETING NEITO MONOMA:

he probably met you during the sports festival or some inter-class training exercise. instantly, he's got you pegged. what's your quirk? How can he use it against you...or, well, analyze it strategically?

if you're in 1-A: Oh, the drama. he'll use every opportunity to subtly (or not-so-subtly) mock your class. it's his bread and butter, but there’s a glint in his eye when you retort. he loves someone who keeps up.

if you’re in another support class: he’s lowkey impressed with your skills, but he’s not gonna show it at first. he’ll “test” your inventions/ideas, offering critiques that are unnecessarily harsh but secretly constructive.

no matter what, he remembers everything about your quirk after seeing it once. he's already thinking about how to use it. not necessarily in a malicious way, but in a “what if” scenario kind of way. like a twisted game of chess.

he'll probably try to shake you with a comment that sounds like it's targeted at you, but actually, it's targeting all of 1-A.

MONOMA CRUSHING ON YOU:

he denies it. vehemently. to everyone. especially himself. it's "strategic interest," nothing more. he needs to understand you...for reasons.

he starts showing up where you are. A lot. "purely coincidental," of course. he just happens to be studying in the library at the same time you are...every day.

his jabs become...less pointed. More teasing. he still roasts 1-A, but when you're around, the jabs are more directed at you for whatever your thoughts are at that moment. and he actually listens (mostly).

he will “help” you study, which quickly devolves into him quizzing you relentlessly and then smugly correcting you, but will explain in a way that is actually beneficial.

if someone else is flirting with you? oh, he’s livid. but he’s not going to start a fight. instead, he will find some way to subtly undermine the potential rival with a cutting remark about their quirk or their intelligence while maintaining plausible deniability.

he analyzes everything about you. your strengths, your weaknesses, your study habits, your favorite tea, your handwriting, even the way you fidget when you're nervous. it's all "data," but he's memorizing it like it's poetry.

secretly, he likes the way you challenge him. you make him think, and he appreciates that, even if he’d rather die than admit it.

DATING NEITO MONOMA:

the confession? a disaster. he probably tries to play it off as an experiment, a challenge, or some other convoluted excuse, but the blush on his face gives him away. you have to basically spell it out for him.

dates are…interesting. expect a lot of intellectual debates, museum visits disguised as "research," and him trying to impress you with obscure facts.

he's surprisingly attentive. he remembers every little detail you’ve ever mentioned and will use that to surprise you with thoughtful (if slightly eccentric) gestures.

he will defend you to the death. if anyone dares to insult you, he will unleash a torrent of scathing wit so brutal it would make bakugo blush.

he loves to copy your quirk, especially if it's something he can use to tease you. expect demonstrations and exaggerated imitations.

he has a soft spot for physical affection, but he’ll never initiate it in public. it's usually a stolen hand squeeze or a quick hug when no one's looking. he’s a bit awkward about it, but he cherishes those moments.

he’s fiercely protective of you, but not in a smothering way. he trusts your judgment and abilities. he just wants to make sure you know he's always there for you.

he is a surprisingly good listener, even if he interjects with snarky comments from time to time. he genuinely cares about what you have to say and values your opinion.

he’s a surprisingly loyal and devoted partner. once he commits, he's all in.

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

there’s a power pulling me back to you || monoma neito

imagine having a quirk that makes your body work like a magnet. and when monoma copies it without a second thought, your bodies smush together. your heads bonk against each other, and you’re pretty sure your teeth clank from the impact (your lips may have touched, too).

you push him by the shoulders, your arms shaking due to the strength the movement requires. you see his face—shocked, frozen in place. you squeeze his shoulder, repeating “earth to monoma,” when he takes too long to respond. he suddenly deactivates his quirk, causing your bodies to part.

he doesn’t make a single sound, eyes still wide. you think yours widen too at some point, because the expression he’s making is so... new. you never thought you’d see him so caught off guard, even if you tried. and it looks strange on him— uncharacteristic. before you can hold it in, you burst out laughing.

he seems to calm down after hearing that. he was afraid he made you uncomfortable, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. he mutters a quiet apology, his usual smile returning. when your laughing fit doesn’t end anytime soon, he crosses his arms and gives you an unimpressed look.

you hold your stomach and cover your mouth, trying your best to stop laughing. why on earth would that happen? well, you know why, but it’s way too ridiculous. you feel warm all over, like your body’s about to fall apart. your giggles slowly die out. you breathe in and out. “it’s fine,” you say. “who could’ve known?”

“none of us, it seems,” he replies. “you clearly enjoyed it, though.” he gives you that teasing smile you hate.

you open your mouth to reply—but then, what can you even say? deny that you enjoyed it? claim that he liked it even more? none of those are accurate, so you shut your mouth. after a moment of thought, you murmur, “I guess I did,” with a shrug.

his smile drops—he wasn’t expecting you to admit it. his arms fall to his sides as a thousand different responses race through his head. before he can decide against it, a mocking laugh escapes his mouth.

“haha! no wonder you did! I’d give you a chance if you begged for it, but I bet you’re too shy to ask for another time! what a—”

before he can finish his sentence, you step in and grab his tie, pulling him down to your level. you stare directly into his eyes. “can you do that again, pretty please?” you ask.

he breathes out slowly, taking his time. then he raises a hand to the side of your face, leaning in. you tilt your head and nod in approval. in a flash, he crashes his lips against yours, activating his quirk just in time. your bodies stick to each other yet again. he drapes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly, his other hand burying itself in your hair. you hug his shoulders, a cold hand brushing his neck, causing him to shiver.

for the first time in your life, you thank whoever blessed you with this quirk—as your bodies slot perfectly together.

you part to catch your breath, but your quirk immediately forces your faces back together. his reflexes cause him to pull your hair to keep your noses from crashing against each other. you let out a suspiciously pained noise. he leans in to kiss you again, then again.