Yall have no fucking idea how hard this post goes for me. I’ll eat both of these bitches raw. RAW I SAY, RAW. The poor people who choose to keep me in their company, simply wishing to enjoy my company and wit, must deal with the wonderful odor of fucking onion mouth or garlic mouth whenever I see a dish that overloads in one or the other. At this point I rlly just want to make a blog dedicated to onions and garlic bec why are they SO GOOD. My best friend gave me a huge onion for my bday as a sophomore in high school and I made a fucking video of me peeling, chopping, seasoning, and sautéing the whole onion. No meat, no other veggies, no grains. Only. Onion. And that was the only thing I had for breakfast that day. And ykw? 1000/10 will be doing that many more times but I will add fresh garlic when I can.
Someone once asked me if, assuming we got universal healthcare, I would be okay with the rise in “healthcare tourism” where people who are sick come to our country to get their medical bills taken care of and life-saving medical treatment cheaper than in their home countries.
I was just like, yeah thats fine, I’d actually prefer it if 0 people died from preventable causes kept behind a paywall for no reason.
“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted
Summary: Arlong, barely alive, is getting treatment of a HUMAN. He hates it. But oh, (g/n) Y/N has quite the soft– No, he can't break. Can he?
Note: This request baffled me, but I understood...somehow? I don't know. I had fun writing it!
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The ocean wasn’t kind that night. It dragged what remained of Arlong’s broken body ashore like a piece of discarded driftwood, salt stinging deep into wounds that Luffy had carved open with fists and defiance. His crew had scattered like minnows in shark-filled water — the ones still alive, anyway.
The world had shrunk down to pain, and the smell of blood and brine.
And then it had the audacity to shrink even further — to you.
You, the only doctor on this sorry little speck of an island. A human. Fragile and unimpressive, standing over him with nothing but a worn-out bag of supplies and hands far too gentle for a creature like him.
He would’ve bared his teeth, would’ve lashed out with what little strength he had left. But even hate couldn’t override the need to survive.
And so your hands worked in silence, steady and sure despite the raw, jagged mess of him. You washed the salt from his wounds, cleaned away dirt and blood with soft cloths, your touch always careful — always patient. Not once did you flinch at the sharpness of his teeth, or the growl that rumbled weakly from his chest.
“Try not to move,” you murmured, voice low but kind. “You’ll tear the stitches.”
He stared at you, the hate still curled in his gut, coiled like the predator he’d always been. But the longer your fingers worked — binding, stitching, soothing — the more that hate blurred.
It wasn’t gone. Not entirely. But it was… quieter. Drowned out by something unfamiliar.
No human had ever treated him like this. No human had ever touched him without fear or malice, let alone with this much care.
You pressed a damp cloth to his brow, wiping away sweat as fever threatened to pull him under.
“There,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his rough skin. “You’re doing better than most would.”
The words weren’t meant to wound or belittle, but for some reason, they stung worse than any blade. Because you weren’t afraid. And worse — you weren’t pretending to be kind for your own gain.
You were just... kind.
And for the first time, Arlong didn’t quite know where to place all that hate.
The next day blurred into the next, time punctuated only by the sound of your voice telling him when to drink, when to eat, when to lie still. And though his body was slow to heal, something inside him shifted faster than his wounds ever could.
He caught himself watching you — how you moved around the room, how your lips pursed in thought as you prepared medicine, how your hands were always so careful even when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.
When he finally spoke, voice low and hoarse, it wasn’t to insult. Or threaten. It was quiet, almost foreign on his tongue.
“...Why?”
You looked up from the fresh bandage you were smoothing into place, blinking softly.
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me.”
Your fingers stilled on his skin, resting lightly against the curve of his jaw — just for a second.
“Because someone had to,” you answered. “Hate... doesn’t heal anyone.”
And for once, Arlong didn’t argue. Couldn’t.
Because lying there under your soft hands, with your kindness seeping through the cracks in his pride, the hate didn’t feel so sharp anymore.
A day later, the sun hung heavy in the sky, burning down on the patch of land where you and Arlong had been stranded for what felt like weeks now. The worst of his wounds were closed, his strength coming back in slow, hesitant waves, but every time he moved too fast, the pain in his side would flare up, and he’d be forced to sit, seething in frustration.
You’d been checking on him that morning, offering him food — simple fish, carefully prepared — but his appetite had been spotty, and his temper even worse. He took the plate from you without a word, his gaze fixed far away, but you still noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed when you got too close.
“You’re gonna need more than that if you want to get back on your feet,” you said, pushing the plate a little closer. Your voice was light, teasing, like you didn’t notice how stiff he had become.
Arlong glanced at you, his lips curling into a scowl, though there was no heat in it this time.
“I don’t need your pity,” he growled, voice rougher than usual. “I didn’t ask for your help, human.”
Your fingers twitched, but you resisted the urge to snap back at him. Instead, you smiled, a little too knowingly.
“I’m not pitying you,” you replied, voice soft and steady. “You’re a fighter. You’re going to need your strength back if you’re going to get out of here.”
There it was again — the way you spoke, the way your eyes didn’t flinch from him. It was the same calm, unbothered kindness that had softened him bit by bit. And that irritated him more than anything. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to anyone treating him like he mattered beyond what he could offer.
He could feel the flutter of something in his chest, the familiar stirrings of discomfort, but he pushed it down as best he could.
“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, sitting up straighter, though his body groaned in protest. “I don’t need you hovering around me all the time. You’re just a human. You can’t fix everything.”
You blinked, surprised by his sudden outburst, but you didn’t take offense. Instead, you placed the food down beside him on the weathered wooden table and took a step back, giving him space.
“I never said I could fix everything,” you said gently, your tone far too calm for his liking. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself by trying to do it all on your own. You’re allowed to let others help you, Arlong.”
He flinched at your use of his name — the one thing that always seemed to make his defenses drop, even just a little. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white against the rough wooden table, but he couldn’t look away from you.
You’d taken care of him. You’d helped him. And somehow, despite everything he hated about humans, he couldn’t bring himself to push you away completely.
“I don’t need your pity,” he repeated, but the words came out more strained this time, like they were for his own benefit more than yours.
You didn’t move. You didn’t argue. You just stood there, quietly waiting, watching him.
“I’m not pitying you,” you said again, this time with more certainty. “You’ve been through a lot. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. You’re... important.”
The weight of your words hung in the air between you both, thick and undeniable, and for a moment, it was just the sound of the waves, the breeze rustling through the trees, and the faint creak of the wooden boards underfoot. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t want to know how to respond to that.
For the first time since his defeat, Arlong felt... vulnerable. Not weak. But vulnerable in a way he couldn’t fight off. He turned his gaze away from you, gritting his teeth as if to push those feelings deep inside, where they couldn’t reach him.
“Stop being so soft,” he grumbled. “I don’t need your kindness.”
But the look in his eyes betrayed him. The way his jaw clenched, the way his gaze softened just before he turned away — he was a mess of conflicting feelings, and he hated it. Hated how your words sank into him, how he wanted to believe you but couldn’t allow himself to. He wasn’t supposed to need anyone. Not even you.
He stood up abruptly, wincing at the sharp pain in his side, but he ignored it, instead taking a few unsteady steps away from you.
“I’ll go. I don’t need you babysitting me anymore.” His tone was harsh, but there was an edge of uncertainty underneath — a small crack in his tough exterior. “I’ll do it on my own.”
You didn’t try to stop him. You simply nodded, watching him with that soft, patient smile — the same one you always gave him.
“Alright. But I’m still here if you need me, Arlong.”
And then, in a rare moment, Arlong’s resolve wavered.
He stopped in his tracks, his back turned to you. He didn’t speak at first, then muttered under his breath, “...You’re... too damn soft, human.”
You didn’t say anything, but you could hear the faintest shift in his voice. Something softer. Something... almost fond.
The island was quiet. The ocean’s constant rhythm was the only sound that seemed to fill the air, a reminder of the isolation you’d been left in.
Arlong had left days ago — you hadn’t seen him since that last argument. You had given him space, even let him go, because in the end, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He was a prideful, bitter creature, and you couldn’t force someone like him to stay.
So, you had learned to live with the silence once more. To keep your head down. To care only for yourself, though there were moments when you still thought of him — when you would wonder if he was alright, or if he had gotten far enough away from the island to find his next fight, his next battle.
You had decided to go for a walk along the beach today. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. It should have been peaceful, beautiful, like everything on this island had always been.
But instead, it felt strange. Like something was missing.
The thought lingered in your mind as you walked along the shoreline, your feet sinking into the warm sand. And then, you stepped on something sharp — a hidden rock or coral, you weren't sure. But it cut deep, a sharp pain shooting up your leg.
You yelped, stumbling back, but the damage had already been done. Blood quickly began to pool in the sand, crimson against the golden beach. You hissed in pain, clutching your foot, your breath shaky as the reality of your injury began to settle in.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, frustration welling up in your chest. You couldn’t even get a damn break. You needed help, but there was no one here.
The tide of panic started to rise in you, your head spinning with the realization that you were stranded — hurt and alone — and there was no one around to help. The ocean, the sun, the sand… none of it mattered if you were alone.
And then you heard it.
The unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. You froze, heart racing.
The shadows grew longer, and a figure emerged from the trees. Your heart skipped a beat. Arlong.
For a moment, you thought you were imagining things — surely he had left. Gone, out of your life. You didn’t want him to return. You didn’t need him to return.
But here he was, standing in the sand, looking down at you with a mix of annoyance and something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.
“Didn’t think you’d be this pathetic,” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the blood spreading on the sand. “How foolish can one human be?”
You bit your lip to hold back the tears. The pain in your foot was unbearable, and his words stung worse than the injury itself. “That doesn't help, I don't need your help,” you spat, trying to stand, but the dizziness hit you, and you collapsed back to the ground.
“You really think I’m going to help you now?” Arlong’s tone was mocking, but it was so much less biting than it used to be. You couldn’t understand why. He watched you struggle, eyes cold but not with the venom they usually held.
And then, a strange silence hung in the air. The kind that felt too heavy. Too real.
You closed your eyes, tears of frustration slipping from the corners of your eyes. You didn’t care if he mocked you. You didn’t care about his cruel words. You just wanted someone to help. Someone to… care.
But Arlong didn’t move. Not at first. Instead, he sniffed the air, eyes sharp.
His gaze flickered down to the blood — and then back to you.
And something shifted.
“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he cursed under his breath.
You heard him move toward you then, his large hand reaching down to grab your arm, his grip firm and surprisingly careful as he hauled you up.
“Get up,” he snapped, trying to sound like his usual intimidating self, but the way his hand trembled just a little betrayed him.
“I said I don’t need your help! Not like that.” you shot back, voice cracking as you tried to push him away. But the pain in your foot was overwhelming, and your attempts were weak at best.
Arlong didn’t say anything. He just huffed, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up without another word. His grip was strong, but the way he held you didn’t feel like he usually made you feel — like you were a nuisance to him. This time, it was different. There was something careful about the way his hands brushed against your side, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, his face still contorted with a mix of annoyance and something darker. He shifted you in his arms, his free hand reaching down to lift you more comfortably. “Hold on, human.”
Your heart hammered in your chest as you let him carry you, too exhausted from the pain to fight him anymore. You let your head fall against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body — that same strange, familiar warmth you’d come to dread and crave at the same time.
The journey back to the small hut you’d been using as shelter was silent, aside from the occasional grunt from Arlong as he carried you. His usual mocking demeanor was gone, replaced by a strange sense of determination. He didn’t stop to taunt you. He didn’t make a single comment about how pathetic you were.
When you arrived, he gently set you down on the bed, his hands still unusually gentle as he took a seat beside you. You were too dazed to argue, too stunned by his actions to even comprehend what was happening.
For a moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes scanning the wound on your foot. He reached into the bag for the supplies you had, but there was no ease to his movements. He was trying, but it was clumsy — too awkward. It was like he didn’t quite know how to treat an injury that wasn’t his own.
“I’m not good at this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You smiled weakly, despite the pain, feeling the known warmth spread in your chest. “I didn’t think you would.”
Arlong let out a low growl, clearly embarrassed. He gripped the cloth and carefully dabbed at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding with the kind of hesitance that made your heart swell in unexpected ways.
“Don’t go getting used to this, human,” he grumbled. “I’m just… not letting you die because you’re too stupid to look after yourself.”
But despite his harsh words, his touch was careful. Delicate, even. And when the last of the bandage was wrapped tightly around your foot, he let out a heavy sigh, like a weight had finally lifted from his shoulders.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, though his voice was soft, uncharacteristically tender. “Just don’t be an idiot next time.”
Arlong didn’t seem so much like a monster in that moment. He seemed… almost human.
The morning sun came in soft through the salt-scratched windows, the waves slow and lazy against the shore. It was too peaceful — too quiet.
You knew this day would come.
His wounds had long since healed. The bruises, the cuts, the battered pride — all stitched up, sealed away beneath muscle and sharp teeth. He was strong again. More than strong enough to walk away.
And now he stood at your doorway, tall and broad as ever, arms crossed over his chest, casting a shadow that blocked half the sun. He didn’t look at you when he spoke, his voice low and rough, as usual.
“I’m leaving.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than the heat of the sea breeze. You sat there on the steps, already dressed and trying so hard not to look as small as you felt.
You nodded once. “I figured.”
It should’ve hurt more, but the hurt had been simmering for days now. You’d long since accepted that whatever had grown between you would never be dressed up pretty. He was still Arlong. A shark with sharp teeth and sharper pride.
But there was a pause. A long one.
You looked up to see his golden eyes watching you, his mouth drawn into a tight line. There was something in the air between you, but neither of you tried to say it. You both knew it would only make it harder.
Instead, he stepped closer. His large hand dipped into the pocket of his worn-out coat, fingers brushing something inside. When he pulled it free, your brows lifted.
A necklace.
The pendant wasn’t fancy, not some glinting jewel or polished trinket. No, it was a simple, smoothed shard of sea glass — worn by the tides, the edges soft, the blue pale and faded like an old sky.
You barely had time to react before he leaned down, reaching for you with careful, if still clumsy hands. His fingers brushed the back of your neck as he fastened it around you.
“There,” he grunted, stepping back.
You blinked down at it, thumbing the sea glass.
“What’s this supposed to be?” you asked, your voice cracking just a little around the edges.
His mouth tugged into a small, crooked smirk. “Mark.”
“Mark?” you echoed.
“You’re mine. My crew, whether you know it or not.” His gaze was sharp, steady. “That way, everyone else will know it too.”
The words hit you harder than you expected, pulling your breath right out of your lungs.
Typical Arlong — no confession, no soft words, just a claim. As if he had any right to stake it. But you couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in your chest, spreading through your ribs like sunlight.
You looked away, smiling despite yourself. “That so? I don’t remember signing up.”
His lips twitched, the closest thing to tenderness you’d ever seen on him.
“You didn’t have to,” he rumbled, turning away and stepping down from the porch. “I don’t need your permission.”
His feet crunched against the sand as he moved, slow but steady, back toward the sea. You watched him, your fingers still curled around the cool sea glass at your chest.
At the edge of the beach, he paused — just once.
Without turning around, he called over his shoulder.
“You take care of yourself, human. I won’t be here to patch you up next time.”
And with that, he strode into the waves, the sea swallowing his silhouette until only the horizon remained.
But the necklace, resting against your skin, stayed.
every time someone calls a cis man an egg because he decides to deviate even slightly from traditional masculine gender norms, an angel loses its wings
you do realize that cishet men deciding to goof around with things that are traditionally feminine doesn't automatically mean that they're queer, right? you understand that?
the same bitches who see a man trying on candy scented perfume rather than axe body spray and go "omg you go girl!!" "see you during your transition sweetie! 😘" "which could mean nothing!" are the same bitches who decry the gender binary and say shit like "makeup has no gender!" "clothes have no gender!" "your self expression doesn't equal your gender!" it's almost like y'all see queerness as inherently feminine. hmm.
maybe this is a hot take, but goofing around with gender expression isn't restricted to queer people, nor should it be. cishet men can wear skirts and eyeliner. cishet girls can bind and cut their hair short. cishet people can get funky with presentation and still be happy as their agab. stop reinforcing gender binaries by calling every seemingly cishet person who decides to deviate from gender norms an egg
also while i'm at it and not at the tags yet, if you use this post to bash trans people in any way, i'm throwing tomatoes at you.
dom!gn!reader, sub!pro-hero!izuku, sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship (reader is the sugar baby), degradation, bondage, financial domination, shoe humping, use of vibrator toys, gagging/choking, not really proof read
note: anon wanted the character to be changed to delu for context
AND GOD DAMN AM I PROUD OF THIS ONE
"Do you like it, baby?" izuku lifts his head up, his hazy, glassy eyes staring at the way the new outfit you just bought today looks on you. it looks incredible but he isn't able to voice that thought out, not when you've attached a ball choker around his head and in his mouth which prevents him from saying anything.
You smile when he nods eagerly, taking your sweet time to pose for him so he could see the entire outfit. Though you take longer than usual to do so, just so you could tease him.
You walk towards him, each loud step of your shoes on the floor making izuku's heart race at what going to happen next.
When you've reached him kneeling on the floor in front of the bed, you lick your lips at the delicious scene in front of you.
Drool is dripping down izuku's mouth as it drips onto his legs and even on his leaking cock. a vibrator toy sits attached to his hard dick, waiting to be turned on. his hands are tied behind is back and you dont even need to tie his legs apart, izuku is obedient enough to do that himself. His body is fully revealed to you and if you were to see him from behind, you would be able to see a vibrator toy in his ass too.
You coo at him. "look at you, already leaking like a whore when i haven't even touched you yet." Izuku whimpers but you see the way his dick twitches at your words, his face flushing a bright red. He’s been in this position for a hour now and his dick has been hard almost the entire time. everytime he moves, his dick bumps against his stomach and he can't help but let out a moan each time.
"what? don't lie, you really are a whore for me." You stand in front of him, looking down to stare at the hearts in his eyes. "after all, you let me do all sorts of stuff to you." You chuckle before remembering something.
"oh right! i almost forgot about the toys on you, let me just grab the remote it came with." You reach for the nearby remote before reading the instructions carefully. You just bought the toy today for him and you were eager to test it out, wanting to see all the reactions it would emit from izuku.
"they both came together so i assume they're connected somehow." You quickly scan the paper.
"it says here.. that if i press this button-" You press a button and izuku sudden jerks forward, his eyes widening and tears immediately prickling his eyes. He whines and shuts his eyes. You can hear the sound of vibrations and when you glance at the one attached to his dick, you see the way its vibrating.
Holy shit. You assumed it was going to work well since it costed quite a lot but you didnt know it would work this good. Izuku’s face scrunches up and you realize you started the vibrations on high but you don't move to lower it.
A muffled gasp escapes from him as the toy in his ass immediately hits a spot in him that makes pre cum spurt out of his dick. You watch in amusement as izuku quickly falls apart at the feeling of being played with from both sides. He can't think properly on whether or not he focusses on the pleasure coming from his dick or his ass.
Drool escapes through the openings of the choker and he stares up at you with glassy eyes, pleading you to take it off. And so you do, you want to hear all the adorable noises he lets out obviously.
Though when you move towards him to do so, you purposely bump your leg against his dick, pressing it against his chest. Izuku lets out a cry at the friction.
You’re then surprised to see cum shoot of his dick, staining his chest. You watch in shock and disbelief but izuku is quick to apologize now that the choker is off him.
"s-shit [name] ah!" Izuku whimpers when his dick immediately becomes hard again and he realizes you haven't turned off the vibrations. If anything, he feels you increase them, making him widen his eyes.
"wait! i-i didn't m-mean ngh to c-cum!" You narrow your eyes at him and you suddenly grab a fistful of his hair to yank his head back.
"but you did cum anyways, didn't you? without my permission too like a brat." Izuku hisses at the pain and shuts his eyes. He slowly nods, not wanting to disobey you.
He feels you let go of his hair and stare down at him with narrowed eyes. You’re looking at him like he’s some dirty plaything for you and while he is, fuck do you look hot doing it.
You feel some movement against your leg and you stare down, seeing his dick move against your leg. Izuku must be doing it subconsciously because when he follows your gaze, he gasps and stutters out another apology but you quickly cut him off.
"what, you want to hump my shoe or something? you want to be a dumb whore for me?"
Izuku bites his lip but he then nods eagerly and you let out a small laugh. It’s addicting, really. The feeling of having such power and control over someone who could easily overpower you. He could break out of the bondage right now but you know he won't. You know he wants to be a good boy for you.
You stick your foot out in front of his leaky dick, presenting your new fancy leather shoes that izuku assumes are really expensive.
Well he knows they were expensive actually, he bought them for you for you twos anniversary recently.
With almost no hesitation, Izuku begins grinding his dick against your shoe, groaning at the friction of the rough material against his sensitive member. He can’t help but lean forward to lay his cheek on your thigh and stare up at you as he falls apart from your shoe. You feel the way his dick vibrates from the toy attached.
“F-Fuck ah! Y-Your shoe feels s-so good, baby.” You giggle and lean down to wipe the drool from the corner of his lips, making his eyes flutter.
Since he’s still sensitive from his first orgasm, his second one quickly approaches and he’s quick to warn you. He lets out a groan as he stares up with you with glassy eyes and you already know what he’s asking for as his mind is probably too foggy to even ask or think properly.
You play with the remote in your hand before turning the toys to its highest setting, making Izuku let out a choked whimper.
“Go on, baby. You’ll be a good boy and cum for me right? You finally asked for permission this time.” Izuku nods rapidly as his pace against your shoe speeds up even more. He suddenly lets out a cry as cum shoots out of his dick and stains your shoe along with your lower leg.
You feign a pout. "my shoe is all ruined now!" Though izuku doesnt seem to care, only continuing to rut again your shoe even though he just came for the second time. The pleasure must've gotten to his head, you think as you watch in amusement. You glance down and see as his cum drips down your shoe and onto the floor underneath.
You use a finger to tilt his head upwards towards you, a small grin on your face. "but you'll buy me a new pair right? you'll be a good boy and do that for me, wont you?"
Izuku stares up at you dumbly, hearts practically in his eyes. He nods eagerly.
can you write about megumi falling apart in sex? he’s so nonchalant irl and i’d like to see him cry 👍
- 🌝 anon
dom!gn!reader, sub!megumi, praise, degradation, pegging but def could be read w/ dick, crying
“You’re doing such a good job for me, baby,” you praise, the sweet words leaving your mouth making Megumi shiver.
His only reply is a loud whimper, barely able to speak now due to the brutal pace of your fucking and the overstimulation. How many rounds has it been now? One? Two? Well each one after became more intense than the last.
“It’s t-too much ngh-“ He manages to stutter out yet his body tells otherwise. His hips are grinding back against your strap, he’s letting out the prettiest noises, and he’s crying out of pure pleasure.
“How cute” Megumi whines at that, his tears coating his pretty face as you speed up the pace even more at the sight, a loud cry coming from him.
“Such a pretty slut for me, hm?” And it’s true, he looks so pretty with the tears, the cum coating his chest and around him, and the red marks you’ve left on his body going along perfectly with his flushed face.
He lets out another sob when a particular thrust has him arching his back and crying more. Then cum shoots out of his dick onto his chest, staining it even more.
warnings. izuku gets *manipulated*, sub!izuku, dom!reader, tentacles pt 2, cunnilingus, overstimulation, good boy izuku, anal penetration (m. receiving), semi-public, izuku gets called puppy, izuku can’t stop cumming, interrupted
part one
Oh god. He can’t help it.
You’re too fucking pretty.
When Izuku saw your number light up his phone last night with a text message asking him if he would like to go out to dinner, he swears to god he almost pissed himself with excitement. The last thing he expected when checking up on Kacchan after he went MIA during their clash with villains the other day was to come face to face with one of the prettiest girls he has ever seen. And then you asked for his number? Ugh, it was a total KO. Of course, that bubble popped pretty quickly after receiving an eardrum-bursting phone call from Kacchan, informing him (unnecessarily harshly) that the pretty girl who gave him her number was a notorious villain.
“What are you saying… that the Tentiplicity kidnapped you from the battle, shot you up with a quirk-stifling drug, but instead of killing you or holding you for ransom, she brought you home while you were unconscious and completely vulnerable, tended to your injuries, and then left without a word? Kacchan, that doesn’t make sense.” Izuku huffs into the phone, brows furrowed as he racks his gargantuan brain for a more feasible explanation than the one his friend is providing.
“It’s the truth! What am I, a fuckin’ octopus expert? I can’t explain why she did what she did, I just know that she did ‘em! Stop fuckin’ questioning me.” The explosive blonde snarls. The few frantic octaves that Kacchan’s voice pitches up from his usual low rumble tell Izuku that he might not be getting the whole, unaltered truth. He’s known the blond long enough to pick up on when he’s spewing bullshit.
“But why would she do that? Why would she just… let you go?” Izuku presses, pacing his bedroom as Kacchan groans in annoyance and frustration. “It doesn’t make sense for a villain of her caliber to get her hands on a pro-hero and then do… nothing.”
“You callin’ me a fuckin’ liar or something?!”
“No, no— of course not!” He sighs. No good could come from getting his short-tempered companion any more worked up than he already was, even if it was so obvious that he was keeping a few notes of information to himself. But what could he possibly be keeping from him? What could Tentiplicity have done to make Kacchan, of all people, keep his mouth shut? A few possibilities flood his mind, but they’re so absurd and outlandish that Izuku doesn’t bother entertaining them for more than a few seconds. “I’m just… trying to make sense of it…”
He glanced at the time on his watch, brows furrowing when he saw it was eight o’clock.
“But, Kacchan,” he murmurs, chuckling anxiously as he peeks outside his apartment window, “I already agreed to go to dinner with her and she’s picking me up any minute.”
“You WHAT?! Dinner?! With Tentiplicity?! Are you out of your freaking mind?!”
“I didn’t know she was Tentiplicity when I agreed!” Izuku sighs, brushing his fingers roughly through his messy curls. He glances at his reflection in the full-length mirror, taking in his tidied appearance: a crisp white button-up that is probably a size or two too small for his muscular body and a pair of sleek black dress pants that hug his upper thighs. They were both oversized when he was sixteen. Guess he packed on a bit of muscle in the past four years. “You’re giving me a bit of a late notice here, Kacchan. If I had known she was a villain, I would have—wait, that’s it!” Izuke gasps.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking because I’m always ahead of you in every way, but tell me anyway.” Kacchan sneers.
“When will I get a more perfect opportunity to take down Tentiplicity, Kacchan? No other heroes have been able to get their hands on her because she is so under the radar. But she doesn’t know I know who she is, so I have the upper hand! I’ll use this ‘date’ as a guise to arrest her!” Izuku beams at his brilliant idea, newfound excitement flooding his chest at the prospect of taking down another high-profile villain. That would definitely get him some bonus points from All-Might. “I just have to wait for the timing to be right.”
“Bad idea. Very bad idea. You need to cancel the date. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Izuku. She’s crazy. A fuckin’ lunatic. Nothings off the table with that freakin’ octo-bitch.” Kacchan hisses, immediately shitting on Izuku’s plan.
“Hey, it’s a good idea! Just because you couldn’t take her doesn’t mean I can’t.” He grumbles before pale yellow light floods his bedroom window from a car passing by outside. He flinches as his phone dings against his ear, your number flashing across his screen as you text him that you’ve just pulled up. Izuku’s heart thumps nervously against his rib cage.
“Oh, I took her just fuckin’ fine,” Kacchan says in a low voice, but Izuku is too distracted by the fact that his villainous date is now, as is currently, waiting outside of his apartment complex to pay his friend’s words any mind.
“Crap. She’s here.” He mutters, mostly to himself. “I’ve gotta go, Kacchan. Wish me luck!”
“Don’t go on this fuckin’ date, you stupid little—!” Izuku hangs up the phone before the blond can finish insulting him and quickly tucks it in his pocket, scuttling over to straighten himself out in the mirror before making his way out of his apartment, making sure to grab his wallet from the kitchen counter. He might be planning to arrest his date at the end of the night, but first and foremost, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman always pays.
There’s no denying his buzzing nerves as he steps out into the cool night air, a soft breeze caressing his cheeks that have only recently begun to shed their baby fat. There’s a sleek black car parked at the curb, purring softly. The windows are heavily tinted, but he assumes it must be you. Swallowing down his anxiety, he saunters up to the passenger side window and drums his knuckles gently against the opaque glass.
The window peels open, and he’s greeted by your playful gaze and grinning lips. For a moment, he forgets you’re a villain.
“Goddamn…” the word slips out in a breathless whisper, a hot pink blush flushing his cheeks when you giggle, the sound so lovely he thinks he might melt on the spot. No, stop it, he catches himself quickly, she’s a villain who hurts innocent people. Don’t get flustered by her appearance.
“It’s good to see you again, too, handsome~” you flirt seamlessly, unlocking the door and watching as he timidly slides into the faux leather seat.
Your eyes slide slowly over his figure, the swells of his chest that seem to strain against the thin fabric with every breath, the narrow curve of his waist hugged by the hem of his dark slacks, which squeeze the muscular flesh of his thighs. The sleeves of his too-tight button-up are rolled up to the junctures of his elbows, showcasing his scarred forearms. Not to mention the rather luxurious-looking gold and black watch wrapped securely around his slim wrist. If he notices your heated stare, he doesn’t mention it.
Instead, Izuku clears his throat and smiles at you sheepishly. “S- Sorry. You look… really nice.”
“No apologies necessary.” You wave off his concerns, casting him a look of bashfulness so sweet that it has Izuku second-guessing Kacchan’s claim that you’re capable of being a ruthless criminal. “I’m glad you agreed to come out to dinner with me. I was worried that I was being a little too forward.”
“N- No! It wasn’t forward at all! I mean— it was forward but not too forward b–because I–I also wanted to… go out… with you.” Izuku sputters clumsily, mentally smacking himself across the face for getting so easily worked up. Your soft peals of laughter only make him feel more embarrassed, but he quickly clears his throat and straightens out his back, refusing to let himself look small in front of you. He is a hero after all. “So, I’m glad you asked me out. Is what I’m trying to say.”
“You’re cute, Izuku~” you grin, shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the complex.
Izuku watches his building vanish in the rear-view mirror and suddenly wishes he had insisted more on driving. He swallows back a wave of fresh nerves as he fully grasps his situation. Kacchan wouldn’t lie about you being a villain. Izuku trusts that wholeheartedly. So he knows for sure that he is currently sitting in the car with none other than the villainess Tentiplicity, pretending to be something that she’s not—a sweet, innocent girl. Even if you play the part well, he knows it’s just an act, a disguise.
He can’t help but wonder why you would ask him out in the first place. You must know he’s a hero, especially considering his ranking on the hero billboard charts. The two of you have never directly fought before. He wasn’t even aware that you were involved with the group of villains trying to rob the bank vaults the other day when Kacchan vanished. You must’ve taken a more stealthy role in that operation, and then snagged the opportunity to take a hero hostage when the operation started falling apart.
But that brings him back to his earlier question: why did you return Katsuki unharmed without even holding him for ransom? It doesn’t make any sense. You must have taken him for a reason. Tentiplicity is cunning, calculating. There’s a reason heroes or authorities have never caught you. Tentiplicity is best known for her involvement in high-profile robberies, whether it be dangerous weapons, massive sums of money, or classified information. You’ve done it all.
Since you’re a more stealth-oriented criminal, there isn’t too much information about you outside of the fact that you can produce tentacles from your body that can reach up to thirty feet in length. Although unconfirmed, there have been reports of your tentacles being able to produce a paralytic substance absorbed by human skin upon contact.
It wouldn’t be difficult for you to slip a tentacle over the center console and touch him. The thought makes Izuku tense, cautious. He watches you from the corner of his eye, on high alert for any sudden movement you might make as you drive to the restaurant.
You had decided on one he was familiar with, a family-owned Italian place ten minutes or so from his complex. He knew the way there by heart, so he’d notice pretty quickly if you deviate from the route. It’s a small comfort, one he clings to as his nerves settle into an unpleasant itch beneath his skin.
Timing. This is going to be all about getting the right timing.
“So…” he clears his throat, “why did you ask me out?”
“Curious?” You smirk.
“A little…” he confesses. “I mean, it was pretty abrupt, you know?”
“Honestly, it was kind of spur of the moment. I’m not usually that bold, but… god, something about those freckles. I just couldn’t help myself~”
Something about your tone sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine. It’s different from the one you’ve been using— darker, richer. Is that your real voice? His toes curl in his dress shoes. When did his heart start beating so fast? He swallows a lungful of air, chest suddenly tight as his stomach swirls. Fear? Definitely. But, there’s something else, too. He can’t quite put his finger on it, and he’s not convinced he wants to.
“You think I’m attractive,” Izuku says. The boldness with which the words slip from his own lips makes the hero blush.
“Extremely.” You're shamelessly flirting with him now. It’s unfamiliar territory, being so blatantly come-on to. Enough so that he keeps his mouth shut the remainder of the drive. If there’s one skill Izuku is sub-par at, it’s flirting with pretty villains.
As soon as the car is parked, Izuku scurries out to open your door for you, ever the gentleman. You purr your gratitude and link arms with the blushing hero, allowing him to lead you into the restaurant. He tries not to flinch at the way your blood red nails press into his bicep as the hostess guides the pair of you to a secluded booth in the back per your request and sets down two menus. The dim orange lighting feels strangely intimate as Izuku slides onto the vinyl cushion across from you.
Acoustic guitar thrums through unseen speakers, weaving through the faint conversation of other patrons. Izuku can’t decide whether or not it’s to his advantage that the restaurant is rather crowded. But he doubts you’ll feel inclined to reveal yourself to a restaurant full of people, given your secretive reputation.
“T- Thank you for helping Kacchan the other day,” Izuku says, cutting through the brief lull between you as you look over the drink options. “I was pretty worried when he suddenly went missing from our mission. I can’t imagine what must’ve happened. Where did you, um… find him, anyways?” He hopes it doesn’t come off too interrogation-y. But it seems you anticipated such questions. That, or you're a phenomenal on-the-spot liar. Either seems plausible.
“It was pure luck, really,” you don’t look up from the menu as you speak. “He was just lying there, unconscious in the middle of the street. I honestly thought he was dead for a few seconds. He must’ve gotten hit pretty hard to get knocked out like that.”
Izuku wonders if he’s just imagining the subtle rise of your cheeks, the faint smirk in your voice. “Right. Very lucky.” He nods like he believes the words coming out of your mouth, drumming his fingers over the cover of his own unopened menu. “I wonder how he got there. On the street, I mean. We were in the basement of that old bank on 5th Ave when we got separated.”
You still don’t look up, voice taking on a bored edge. “That is strange, isn’t it?” Izuku opens his mouth, intending to keep pressing, but flinches in mild surprise when you abruptly snap your menu shut and lay it down on the table before leaning forward on your elbows, propping your chin on interlaced fingers. “Hey, Izuku. Can I ask you a question?”
The look in your eyes is different, he realizes. Sharper. Darker. Almost… predatory.
A nervous laugh hiccups from his throat. “You just did,” he jokes lamely, clearing his throat at your responding blank stare. “I, uh… Yeah. Yes. Go ahead.”
The air shifts, suddenly heavy.
“What are your thoughts on calamari?”
Goosebumps prickled across Izuku’s arm, anticipation spreading beneath his skin like an uncomfortable itch. “Personally? I prefer katsudon.”
You kiss your teeth in disappointment. “That’s a shame.”
Izuku doesn’t hesitate. Black whip spears out from his knuckles beneath the table, the serpentine, black tendrils winding tightly around your legs and waist, effectively restraining you. But you don’t flinch, not even a little.
The smug look on your face transforms into a mocking pout. “Oh? Are we done playing pretend already? But I haven’t even ordered my wine yet.”
It’s jarring. Just how quickly you drop the nice girl act. Everything about your pretend demeanor simply falls away, revealing the dangerous nature lurking beneath the gilded mask. Your presence seems to swell, not literally, but in some unfathomable way that fills the space around you, like some kind of dark aura. It is probably considered bad form to restrain and arrest your date before the appetizers come out, but Izuku decides he can make an exception just this once.
“Tentaplicity,” Izuku starts, voice firm and low as he glares across the table, tightening black whip’s grip around you. “You are under arrest for crimes against the country of Japan, including robbery, trespassing, espionage—”
A sharp peel of laughter cuts him off, your suddenly blazing eyes flaring with amusement. “Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think, Izuku? You’re going to spoil all of my fun,” you croon, clicking your tongue. “And you were being such a good boy, too. I’m feeling strangely disappointed.”
Annoyance curls at the corners of Izuku’s mouth. You weren’t taking him seriously at all. In fact, you seem entirely unaffected by the fact that he currently has you bound with his quirk. Your indifference nicks the hero’s ego a bit, confidence wavering. “This is the end of the line, Tentaplicity. You’re going to prison. It’s over.”
“Oh, is that right?” Condescension drips from your tongue, thick and saccharine as raw honey.
Heat seeps across the back of Izuku’s neck. “Yes.” He says in a huff, moving like he’s about to stand. Until he feels something slick and warm creeping up his pant leg, and freezes instead.
You smile at him innocently. “Sit down, Izuku. Unless you want me to bring this entire restaurant down with all of these innocent civilians inside of it.”
The threat makes Izuku’s body go rigid. Shit. He made a mistake. He glances down towards his leg, where a sleek purple tentacle curls around his calf.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
How could he have been so careless? Assuming those damn tentacles wouldn’t be able to slip out when he had you restrained. He had no idea of the full extent of your abilities or if those rumors of paralytic substances were true. If they were, this could be checkmate.
A whispered curse slips from Izuku’s mouth as he slowly sits back down, jaw clenching irritably.
“That’s it. Such a good listener.” The praise only makes him scowl harder, rousing a mirthful grin across your face. “Izuku, I really do like you. I wasn’t lying before, about finding you attractive.”
Red blossoms across the hero’s face despite his best efforts to will it away. He hates how his body responds to the beautiful villain’s empty flattery, hates how it heats him from the inside out like something molten, pooling in his lower belly and spreading through his veins—wait. Wait, no. This feeling… It’s not from the flattery. No way. It’s something else entirely.
His scarred hands flex into tight fists where they sit on his thighs, his gaze dropping to discover that his too-tight dress pants are tight for a wholly new and unexpected reason.
“Wha— why am I—?”
“Hard?” You interrupt, simpering as your tentacle trails further up his leg until it's slithering over his knee.
Izuku jolts and folds forward, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a jagged moan. He’s so confused. What the hell is happening inside of him? Why does he feel so… so fucking horny?
“I’ll tell you what, Izuku,” you lean over the table as the grip of his black whip slackens around you. “I’ll leave everyone here alone if you walk outside with me right now. What do you think? A pretty reasonable deal, right? No one has to get hurt. And I’ll tell you alllll about my quirk. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hm, Izuku?”
Every time you say his name, Izuku finds himself that much closer to coming undone right then and there. His body is a live wire, every nerve ending crackling with white hot electricity. It’s like he’s under siege by some invisible force eating away at the edges of his sanity. He can’t remember the last time he felt heat like this. Maybe he never has. He’s not thinking straight.
That’s probably why his head bobs all on its own, and his traitorous mouth opens, husking out a breathless, “okay.”
The tentacle retreats from his leg, but that hot, hazy feeling remains. His knees wobble beneath him when he stands, weak and unstable. You loop an arm around him to support his unsteady weight and tug him tight against your side. He leans into you without a fight and allows you to guide him out of the restaurant, much to your waitress’s dismay. You placate her with a smooth lie about him suddenly feeling ill, his flushed face and unfocused gaze a convincing testament to the falsity.
By the time you step into the cool night air, Izuku is coming back to himself, bit by bit. His back slumps against the rough stone of the exterior wall once you round a corner to a secluded side of the building, dropping onto his ass as he fights to catch his breath.
“Geez, I barely used my quirk, and you’re already this weak? Sensitive little thing. I guess I’ll have to be gentler with you.” You muse, eyeing him with a lazy smirk.
He stares up at you from the floor. “Y– your quirk… you excrete… an aphrodisiac-like substance from your tentacles that s–stimulates the nervous s–system, inducing pleasurable sensations in people you touch,” he whispers, his lust-fogged brain working a mile a minute. Shamefully, he wishes he had his notebook on him to write it all down.
Your brows lift, amusement glinting in your eyes. “Quick one, aren’t you?”
“Just… observant.”
“And modest to boot,” your gaze rakes over him, finding the hero cuter and more fascinating by the second. Even in the shadowed alley, those big, round eyes like mossy pools of green sparkle up at you with unrestrained curiosity. It’s almost flattering.
What a strange boy.
“Is that—is that what you did to Kacchan?”
You smile. “You really want to know? What I did to Kacchan?” Your voice curls as a faint, violet glow pulses from behind you, a pair of twin tentacles slithering into view. The sight of them steals the breath from Izuku’s chest. “I can show you if you like.”
Izuku swallows the saliva filling his mouth as the otherworldly appendages extend towards him. Against his better judgment, he reaches out, sliding a rough palm over one of the smooth, coiling limbs. It’s almost glossy in texture and appearance, just slightly translucent, like blown glass fresh from the furnace. The pro hero gasps as the tapered tip coils around his arm, squeezing gently, the other creeping up his clothed thigh. That feeling from before returns, gentler now, less all-consuming, a faint thrumming warmth just beneath his skin.
“Oh,” he gasps. His knees press together and draw up towards his chest, but the tentacles coil around each of his ankles, roughly yanking his legs apart, damn near sending him sprawling across the stone sidewalk below. “Ah! H– hey!”
“Shh, puppy. Don’t wanna make a scene now, do we?” You move forward with startling swiftness, feet planted on either side of Izuku’s thighs, and he has to crane his neck back to look up at you. He nearly chokes on his tongue when your dress shifts, and he catches a flash of black underwear. Instinctively, he looks away, but a tight fist in his mossy curls forces his attention back to you. “Eyes on me.”
Your tone demands obedience.
And, in spite of himself, of everything he knows about just how dangerous you are, he finds himself obeying. He’s not sure why, but he gets the feeling you won’t hurt him. You didn't hurt Kacchan. Not technically.
“Good boy,” you hum, caressing his head. “Look at that pretty face. Bet it would look even better between my thighs.”
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat. Between… your thighs?
“Why do you look so scared? Fuck, don’t tell me you’ve never eaten someone out before.” The laughter in your words makes Izuku blush hotly, his responding silence speaking volumes. It’s not a far leap to assume the poor boy is a virgin. The thought that he’s never been properly touched makes you coo at him. “So puppy needs some training, is that it?”
The hero’s chest practically vibrates with each rapid thud of his heart. He can’t believe this is really happening. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to learn. To touch, to taste. You’re just too fucking pretty. It’s driving him to the brink of insanity. Maybe that’s why he shyly leans forward, nuzzling at the inside of your thigh, kissing the warm flesh with trembling lips. “Yeah…” he murmurs huskily. “Can I?”
Oh, how precious.
“How can I say no when you ask so sweetly?” You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. Is this really the same hero who was ready to haul you off to jail a few moments ago?
Thick eyelashes kiss the top of his cheeks as he gently closes his lips over your cotton clad heat, sucking so softly, so unsurely, that it coaxes a scoff from you. He opens up and drags the flat of his pink tongue slowly over the soft, thin fabric, slicking it with warm saliva. He can just barely taste you through it, but the scent of you alone is enough to draw a husky moan from somewhere low in his throat as he makes out with your clothes slit. The soft vibrations send a shudder rippling up your spine.
“Not too bad for a virgin,” you taunt, reaching down the slip the crotch of your underwear to the side, exposing the glistening flesh beneath to the hero kneeling before you.
Izuku’s body seems to seize up, breath caught behind his teeth as he stares wide eyed at your plush cunt.
How can you be pretty down there, too? How can someone be so fucking beautiful? It’s unfair. He never stood a chance. He was fucked from the moment he laid eyes on you. It didn’t matter that you were a villain, not in that moment, at least. Not when he wanted you in such a visceral, bone-deep way. So severely that his very marrow seemed to sing with its need for you. He can’t tell if everything he’s feeling is just a symptom of your quirk, but honestly, he doesn’t really care.
He’s ravenous. And you’ve just presented him with a plate of the sweetest ambrosia.
“C’mon. Give it a proper taste.”
The sound of your voice snaps him out of his trance, and he looks up at you, only then realizing that a thick puddle of saliva has pooled in his mouth, the tiniest bit of drool escaping the corner. He doesn’t bother swallowing. Because he suddenly remembers Kirishima telling him one time, “the wetter, the better.”
A ragged gasp rips from your chest as Izuku attaches his sloppy mouth to your bare slit, lapping and slurping at you like a man starved. He more than makes up for his lack of technique with sheer enthusiasm.
Rough, calloused hands squeeze the flesh of your thighs, dull nails biting crescents. Yours burrow into his thick curls, pulling him closer, a silent urging for more. And he gets the message loud and clear.
Whether he intends to or not, his nose ends up circling your clit as he feasts on you, stimulating the little but incessantly. Gasping, your hips arch towards his mouth, pleasure rippling down your spine.
“You like it? Is it yummy, puppy?” You coo, grinning down at him wickedly as your fingers card through his hair, tugging every so often.
“Mhm. Thank you—thank you. So good, tastes so good,” he babbles against your hot skin, not even bothering to pull away to speak, unable and unwilling to detach from his new favorite flavor: a subtle, almost coppery tang of bitterness entrapped within honeyed tendrils of sweetness that explode across his taste buds.
A sloppy concoction of your slick and his spit leaks from the corners of his eager mouth and spills down the length of his pale throat, but he couldn’t care less about the mess he’s making.
Izuku is so absorbed in eating you out that he doesn’t notice the tentacles slipping towards him. Not until one squirms into the confines of his dress pants and slick heat engulfs his rigid dick, squeezing and pulsing around him in such a way that he can only let out a startled yelp before his body bucks and a searing load saturates his slacks.
You let out a scoffing laugh. “Seriously? That quick? We’ll have to work on your self-control, puppy.” You click your tongue in feigned disappointment, and Izuku flushes red, tears of embarrassment wetting his eyes.
“Y– you caught me off guard…” he glares up at you weakly, squeaking when the tentacle’s grip tightens around him once more. Oversensitivity ricochets through him, and he grabs at the slick appendage in a fruitless bid for control.. “Ah! Wait—!”
“Did I tell you you could stop?” You sneer, dragging his face back between your thighs. “Keep eating.”
The hero whimpers helplessly, his body squirming as he’s dragged towards a second orgasm within the span of a few seconds. But he obeys like the good boy he is and resumes lapping at you, muffling his moans and whines in the soft flesh of your cunt. The sounds vibrate against your clit, sparks of electricity making the muscles of your thighs tighten. You hitch one over his shoulder, your heel digging into his lower back, watching as it arches beneath the gentle pressure.
Dangerous inspiration curls in the back of your mind.
There’s no time to brace himself before Izuku feels a distinctive caress against the base of his spine. A caress that slips lower. And lower.
He breaks away from your heat for the second time, much to your utter distaste, gasping into the cool night air as his head whirls around, eyes bulging at the sight of one of your tentacles disappearing down the back of his pants.
“Wait, no—” any protests wither and die on his lips when he feels pressure. Warm and wet, almost like he’s being licked at. No, exactly like he’s being licked at. Embarrassment and blood-heating pleasure set upon him, the two conflicting emotions giving him whiplash. “I– hold on—” words fail him. Displaced by devastatingly beautiful sounds of euphoria. Against his will his body presses back, hips grinding against the tentacle currently teasing his hole before jerking forward to fuck into the one gripping his cock. Stimulation ravages him from both ends. “Coming, coming, coming.”
“Again? Jesus Christ,” you grip his jaw, forcing his head up and back to get a proper look at his sinful expression. Eyes rolling, mouth drooling, skin pink and perspiring. It’s fucking pathetic how sensitive he is to even the slightest titillation. “That dick of yours is a fucking fountain. Seriously, how many rounds do you have in you?” You pause at your own question and grin. “Should we find out?”
The threat (or promise?) of being made to cum until he physically couldn’t anymore both terrified and electrified Izuku. His mind and body can barely handle this much, and now you want to milk him dry? No. No, he couldn’t. He’d die. No fucking—
“Yeah.”
Fuck.
“Mm, I knew you’d like that. Boys like you always do. Going around pretending you're not aching to get those pretty little brains of your fucked out.” The taunting makes Izuku writhe, impatience licking at his every nerve. “Lucky for you, I’m not so easy to fool.”
Izuku nods stupidly, ready to agree with just about anything you say if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this. Like nothing else in the world exists.
Scarred hands surge forward to clutch at your thighs when the pressure on his hole turns breaching. And god, does he open up around you ever so deliciously.
He’s cumming for a third time by the time the first three inches are inside, shuddering and whining a broken version of your villain name as the dark spot on the front of his dress pants spreads. His tight walls squeeze tight around your alien appendage, clinging desperately like his body is trying to suck you in.
A soft moan flutters from your lips, and Izuku nearly cums again from the sound alone. So pretty. So fucking pretty. He wants to hear more.
His warm mouth is back on you in the next second, desperately searching for the spot that makes you tick. He finds it with a careful swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, a small bud at the very top that earns him a shuddered gasp. He doesn’t miss a beat before he’s latching on and sucking, eliciting more and more of those beautiful reactions that make molten heat pool in his belly.
The tentacle inside of him suddenly curls, drilling into his own sensitive bundle of nerves like a damn homing missile. If he hadn’t been holding onto you so tightly, he would have collapsed onto the stone below, a dumb little fuck toy eager to take whatever you’re willing to give him.
But at his core, Izuku is a giver.
And he is going to give as good as he’s getting if it fucking kills him, even if it means suffocating himself in the warm wetness of your twitching cunt. Which, honestly, doesn’t seem like a bad way to go.
“That’s it, puppy, right there,” you whisper, gasping softly at the dual pleasure currently blazing through your blood and overwhelming your senses. The tentacle fucking Izuku speeds up, pounding into his ass so brutally that you can feel every sharp jerk of his body giving beneath the force. Every whimper and moan resonates through your clit, and all at once your release is surging over you. “Right there—!”
Izuku sobs with delight at the first gush you bestow upon him, splattering messily across his blissed out face. The tension in his own gut snaps violently once more at the knowledge alone that he was able to bring you to that edge.
“Fuck, enough,” you hiss, grabbing his hair and forcefully dragging him off of your pulsing cunt when he refuses to do so on his own.
He whines with disappointment, peering up at you with unfocused, lust-drunk eyes, swollen lips, and flushed skin glistening with your essence. You scoff slightly, swiping a thumb over his slick chin before pressing it into his mouth. He’s more than happy to oblige to the silent command, sucking the taste of you from the digit with a hoarse moan.
“You’re so pathetic that it’s almost cute.” You slide your leg off his shoulder, the movement followed by a wet pop as you slide your tentacle out of his fluttering heat, much to the hero’s dismay.
“W- was that good?” He asks shakily, licking his lips as he watches you straighten yourself out. You raise a brow, amusement dancing across your face. You should have guessed that he’s the type to need reassurances. Those big green eyes were practically begging for praise.
So you hum and stroke his hair with all the tenderness you can afford. “Isn’t it obvious?” Izuku blushes when you gesture towards the mess between your thighs. The very mess he’d created.
Swallowing, he hesitates before pressing a soft kiss to the skin just above your knee, an almost reverent gesture. “For me, too. I liked it. A lot.”
“That was obvious, too.” He yelps when your tentacle gives his spent cock one final squeeze before slipping away, leaving him to soften in his cum-soaked slacks. “I could eat you alive, I swear.”
Between your soft chuckles and his responding whine, you almost miss it. A soft sound from the entrance of the alley, something like the sharp intake of breath. Almost.
Both of your eyes snap over, locking onto the silhouette of a man, rigid with shock at the scene before him.
Izuku blanches. Not only were they caught, but he’d have to be an idiot not to recognize that distinctive dichromatic hair, even in the dull shadows of the alley.
“T-Todoroki, it’s not—” Izuku splutters, words catching in his throat and shattering.
You barely manage to rear back before a wall of ice spears through the space between you and Izuku. Cold breath hisses from the glacial barricade and kisses your face.
A voice, colder than the ice before you, rasps from the man. “Midoriya, run.”
Heat like a blazing inferno roars, red flames snap violent jaws and force you back, but you’re too slow. You slam your teeth down on your lip to muffle a sound of distress as one of your tentacles is singed. Fuck, that was hot. Irritation nips at you.
“I guess I’ll have to cut this play session short.” In the span of a second, your tentacles erupt from you, extending into the sky and finding purchase on the roof of a nearby building. You meet Izuku’s gaze once more and shoot him a salacious wink.
“Tenta—” Izuku starts, but you’re already shooting into the air in a blur of luminescent violet. Graceful and brutal and powerful. The moonlight caresses your silhouette like a yearning lover before you vanish into the dark maze of buildings. To his embarrassment, his exhausted dick manages a weak twitch. He drops his head into his palms, laughing in disbelief as everything that just happened rushes back over him. “Shit. I must be out of my mind…”
“Midoriya!” Any agonizing he could do over his little… escapade with one of the city’s most notorious villains is abruptly cut short as Shoto comes rushing over, heterochromatic eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”
Izuku’s hands fly to cover the dark stain on his crotch, a crimson flush consuming his face. “I’m fine!” He says too quickly and clears his throat. “I’m fine.”
Shoto lets out a breath of relief, the tension in his shoulders deflating. “That was Tentaplicity, wasn’t it? Those tentacles…” he trails off, looking skyward as Izuku pushes himself up onto shaky legs, hands clasped deliberately in front of him. “I knew she was a villain, but… I didn’t realize she was a cannibal, too.”
“Yeah, I— wait,” the green-haired hero sputters. “Cannibal? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, she said she could eat you alive,” Shoto said in all seriousness, brows furrowed in concern. “I was really worried.”
Silence stretches between the two boys. Izuku breaks it with a snort. “No, that’s not—” he shakes his head and grins. “Ah, whatever. Thank you, Shoto. You seriously saved my a—um, me.”
It’s not exactly priority number one to divulge the fact that he had very little interest in being saved. None at all, actually. He would have gladly stayed between your thighs, stuffed full for the rest of the night if you had allowed it.
His ass throbs as he slumps into the passenger seat of Shoto’s car after the other man offers him a ride home. He’s grateful, since he’s not sure he’s up for the hour-long walk back to his place in his current state considering his original ride slung into the sky and hauled ass like Doctor Otto Octavius. He’s grateful that Shoto doesn’t ask questions about his disheveled state and sudden limp, probably assuming they stemmed from a fight with Tentaplicity.
A soft buzz in his pocket makes Izuku flinch. With eager, fumbling hands, he quickly pulls it out and stares at the screen wide-eyed, trying to process what he’s reading.
Sorry about our date ending so abruptly ;( I was really hoping to spend more time with you, shame we were interrupted by that pretty boy with the two-tone hair. Friend of yours? Maybe he can join us during our next playtime.
even before and during your and denki’s relationship, he’s always acted nervous around you. even being in your vicinity makes him falter with his actions and words. you never fail to fluster him.
and it’s obvious when he’s nervous around you, everyone can tell just by two things; his hair and if he’s blushing.
so one day, the whole class is spending time together in the common room after school. some are cooking up some food, others are watching television, a few are taking showers, and some are playing board games. currently, you’re just watching mina and toru play a competitive game of chess.
at the moment, toru’s winning when denki walks out of the bathrooms, black sweatpants hanging on his hips, a white shirt with a silly cat you gave him for his birthday, and a towel is slung over his shoulder. he immediately looks for you in the sea of people scattered across the large room.
when he sees you walking toward him with a sweet smile on your face, his damp hair spikes up, electricity running through his body and out through his fingertips. his face turns even redder with embarrassment, knowing how teasing you get when you see him all flustered like this.
you let out a soft giggle, and as expected, your hair sticks up, and others’ hair starts spiking up as well. when your classmates feel the static on their scalps, the ones watching television turn to denki, who’s groaning in embarrassment with his head in his hands.
“what happened now?” hanta asks, a large smile on his face as he taps his foot on the ground.
“i didn’t do anything, i swear!” denki replies, half panicking.
but you grab his hand, and you feel a soft buzz on your palm. he accidentally shocked you.
his face turns as red as eijiro’s hair, and you hold his already sweaty hand. you place a soft kiss on his cheek, and run your hand through his hair, patting down his staticky hair. though, you don’t get too far before his hair spikes up again.
just before the two of you leave to watch a show in denki’s room, hanta whispers to katsuki, “damn. he’s got it bad, dude,” hanta lets out a laugh.
synopsis. ꨄ︎ your bllk bf entered the relationship as a bet, however, they weren't expecting to love you as much as they do, and are ultimately heartbroken when you find out.
featuring. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x sae, kaiser, karasu, rin
includes. ꨄ︎ angst/no comfort, cursing, pet names, itoshi brothers lowkey gaslighting you to a degree, bllk guys pleading, not proofread
notes. ꨄ︎ hey guys! slaps u with angst :3 i would've included more characters but i felt like it would be slightly copy and paste if i did, so i chose the angstiest characters (imo)
♪ track. ꨄ︎ n/a
end notes. ꨄ︎ lmk if u guys do want a happy ending/p2
okay, but what about bakugo and his spoiled princess of a girlfriend?
he’s always grumbling, always acting annoyed — but everyone knows he lets her get away with everything.
she’s clingy? he groans like he’s bothered, but then he’s tugging her into his lap with one hand wrapped around her waist, his other arm holding her close like she belongs there.
she wants to buy something? he’s saying no — gruff, firm, the usual “you don’t need that crap” — and then she hits him with the wettest, cutest, biggest puppy eyes to ever exist, soft as hell, tilting her head with a little pout:
“katsuki~”
he’s done for. that man’s brain bluescreens on the spot.
bakugo.exe has stopped working.
next thing you know, he’s handing over his card with a scowl, muttering, “just don’t buy the whole damn store.”
she’s giggling, twirling for him in some frilly dress, asking, “do i look pretty? what do you think of this shade of gloss? too much shimmer?”
he doesn’t know shit about makeup or fashion, but he’s sitting there, watching her like she hung the stars, nodding along as she rambles, pretending to understand just because her eyes sparkle when she talks.
and then — then — some guys have the audacity to mock her behind her back, calling her “high maintenance.”
bakugo’s jaw ticks.
he turns, cracking his knuckles, eyes narrow and sharp like a storm’s about to break loose.
“you got a fuckin’ problem, huh?” he growls, stepping closer.
one of them scoffs, but he’s not letting it go.
“i can afford it, you bastards. and if my girlfriend likes to blow my cash on all that sparkly shit she loves, then who the fuck are you to talk?”
he rolls his shoulders, pure menace in his voice.
“you wanna fight? go ahead. let’s see how much your broke ass can afford a hospital bill.”
