♡

You had promised yourself a thousand times the cycle would end, that this time you’d close the chapter and move on, but every time you tried and swore you were done, you found yourself pulled back into him. It was endless. Exhausting.

Your friends had warned you a thousand times, saying that he was toxic, destructive, narcissistic, even and that he only used you.

But as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t let him go, he was magnetic, irresistible in a way that made your chest ache, a pull you couldn’t fight.

The cycle was painfully predictable. You’d stop talking—usually because you were the one to decide to, thinking maybe, this time, you’d finally stay away, but then, he would come back. You’d resist for a week, maybe two, if your willpower was strong enough for you to endure his begging. And then, without warning, he’d end up in your bed, smirking, triumphant, knowing he could have you whenever he wanted you.

“K-Katsuki…” you whispered, clutching the sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric as if it were the only thing holding you together.

“Yeah?” his voice was low, lazy, but full of that dangerous weight that always made your heart pound.

“This… this isn’t right…”

“Mhm.” he leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. “But you love it… and you know that.”

And as much as you wished you could deny it, as much as you wanted to hate him, it was true, you craved the chaos he brought—the way he dominated, teased and pushed boundaries—it consumed you, thrilled you, and made your head spin.

And, of course, the next day, after all the intensity, he was gone. Just like that. Your bed felt cold, empty and silent, the sheets still warm from his body but a cruel reminder of what you’d lost once again.

You were tired from that repetitive and painful cycle, and this time, you decided enough was enough. Two years of it had shown you the truth: he would never love you the way you loved him.

The ache in your chest, the obsession, the nights you spent waiting for him to call—it all had to end. You blocked him everywhere, cut off all contact and swore to yourself that this time, it was over for good.

Time passed, and surprisingly, he didn’t chase you this time. No fake accounts, no sudden appearances suspiciously right on important dates, no messages. For once, it seemed like he got the message and got away.

The emptiness was strange, unfamiliar, but there was peace in it, fragile and bittersweet, but it was still peace.

In that void, someone new entered your life, someone different. Iida.

He was calm, gentle, reliable, intelligent, respectful. He never made you doubt where you stood, never made you cry at 3 a.m, never made you feel like loving him was a war you couldn’t win.

Your friends were thrilled, congratulating you and saying how you finally found someone who was actually treating you right, that you should be happy, and in theory, you were… but your heart felt hollow.

Peace was unfamiliar. Safety, predictable love, stability—it didn’t thrill you the way he did.

You never mentioned it though, you tried to ignore it, telling yourself with Iida it would fade, that eventually, you would learn how to be happy without chaos. You never imagined that someone was watching, waiting for the right moment.

“Dude… did you see who came out of the cinema today?” Kirishima’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“The hell do I care who went to the damn movies,” Katsuki scoffed, disinterest evident in his tone.

“You’re gonna want to see this bro…” Kirishima handed him his phone.

And there you were, smiling, laughing. Iida’s arm around your waist. You looked happy—no, not happy, radiant, or at least it seemed like it.

“The fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

“Crazy dude, right? Didn’t think she’d switch types that fast, like, he’s totally the opposite of you—“

“Shut up.”

“It won’t last.” he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else, before walking out.

And of course, on the other side of the campus, you didn’t knew what was coming.

You were cleaning, just like every sunday, cleaning helped you clear your head—you needed the distraction, a break from all the thinking that filled your days lately.

Suddenly, a loud knock startled you.

“Uhh… who is it?” you asked, your voice hesitant, you weren’t expecting anyone.

No answer. The silence on the other side of the door making your pulse quicken.

Confused, you opened the door, only to freeze when you saw who it was.

It was him, Katsuki Bakugo, the man who’d been haunting you even in your dreams, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

He was there, standing in the doorway, impossibly close, his presence overwhelming. Your heart hammered, you couldn’t speak—you couldn’t even believe he was in front of you after all this time.

You didn’t even have time to react before he stepped forward, crowding you back against the door. His body was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. His breath hit your cheek—heavy, deliberate.

“Tell me he’s better than me. Say it, and I’ll leave.” his voice was sharp, dripped with possessiveness.

“Katsuki…”

His proximity sent shivers down your spine, his hand on your waist, the other one tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Go on,” he pressed, eyes burning into yours. “What’s so damn special about him? Does he make you feel what I do? Does he touch you the way I do?”

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him, your whole body trembling, words stuck in your throat.

A sarcastic laugh rolled from his lips, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Of course he doesn’t.” he pressed closer, his body practically against yours. “Then why the hell are you with him, huh?”

“You know exactly who’s to blame for why we’re not together anymore…” you whispered, avoiding eye contact, your voice barely audible, “so don’t try to act all innocent now… what we had, it’s gone.”

“You think that’s true, huh? I’m not sure if you’re lying to yourself… or to me.”

“I’m not lying, Katsuki.”

“Right…” his eyes narrowed, scanning your face, searching, calculating. “Then tell me why you haven’t told me to stay away.”

And as much as you wanted to deny it, it was true, he was right. You had tried, really tried to convince yourself that you were done, that he didn’t had any more power over you and that he wasn’t able to make you feel anything anymore, but standing here, with him breathing over you, it made you feel like you wanted him all over again.

“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go.” he said, locking eyes with you.

Your gaze dropped to his lips, and that was all he needed.

He took you by the waist, slammed you against him, and kissed you.

At first, you tried to pull back, to fight, to cling to the remnants of your dignity. Seconds felt like minutes as every memory, every betrayal, every moment he had taken you and left you aching floated back. You wanted to say no, but you couldn’t. You were trapped, lost, addicted to him, and he knew it.

You melted into the kiss, every part of you burning at the heat of him, feeling a small, smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Without warning and without breaking the kiss, Katsuki lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively curling around his waist.

The moment his body pressed closer, your breath hitched, heart racing.

He carried you toward the bed with an intensity that made your body shiver, climbing on top of you as soon as you were down, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress. You could feel the hardness of him growing against you, each movement deliberate, desperate. Small moans tumbling from your lips, mixing with his low, commanding breaths.

Your fingers tangled in his messy hair, tugging his head closer, urging him to deepen the kiss. He responded immediately, his lips and tongue demanding, exploring, claiming. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your waist as he pressed himself against you. Every brush and every heated groan between you only intensified the fire building in your core.

You were drowning in him—the taste, the scent, the feel of his body against you—and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t care about anything else. All that existed was him, and the reckless, consuming desire that set your veins ablaze.

You shouldn’t be doing this, you knew that, every rational thought screamed at you to pull away, to stop, but the pleasure clouded your mind, dulled your senses and left you aching for more, and before you even realized it, you were already on top of him.

His lips left yours just for a moment, trailing down your jaw, nipping gently at the sensitive skin of your neck. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter, pulling him closer, craving every inch of contact you could get.

He shifted slightly, grinding his hips against you with controlled, deliberate pressure, teasingly slow at first, making you whimper and arch into him. The sound of your own moans seemed to fuel him, and his low growls vibrated against your skin, sending shivers through your spine.

“God… you’re mine, you know that?” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough, commanding. Your body melted at his words, every nerve ending screaming for him.

You felt completely exposed, completely alive—every gasp, every moan, every shiver was magnified by the intensity of him pressing into you. And even as your mind tried to protest, tried to remind you of logic or reason, your body betrayed you, craving him, needing him, wanting nothing more than to be consumed entirely by his fire.