My whore of a blog

Fuck off // 23 🙃

[creampiedby]

under the table. boyfriend! midoriya izuku x fem! reader

synopsis: you can't help but want to have sex with your cute boyfriend in the library. You just mustn't get caught. ^^

warnings: NSFW (MDNI), creampie, disgusting sex, sex in a library, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, overstimulation, sperm, dirty talk, overstimulation, fellatio (male receiving), swallowing sperm, deep throat, Izuku has a big dick😝

a/n: my first oneshot abt izuku and its so rawww and btw tysmm for 3.7k followers🥹💕

words: 4903.

You've been dating Izuku for almost seven months now. At first, he really wasn't your type. He's too nice, too studious, a little awkward with his words. But after spending weeks working on that end-of-semester project with him, you completely fell for him.

He's tall, drop-dead gorgeous, and above all, so intelligent that just listening to him talk gets you wet. Fuck, he's so sexy when he wears those thin glasses that slip slightly down his nose, or when he gets all excited about a subject he's passionate about. His green eyes sparkling, his voice dropping lower…

And then there's his dick.

The first time you saw it, you were speechless. How could a guy who stutters and nerds out like that be hiding a dick that big? It almost felt unfair.

From that day on, you've been officially, completely addicted to him. To every single part of him.

You've been sitting in the university library for over three hours now, studying for the exams that are coming up fast, but you can't focus at all anymore. Your gaze keeps sliding discreetly toward him.

Izuku is bent over his revision sheet, brows slightly furrowed, that adorable little crease forming between his eyes when he's concentrating. His glasses have slipped all the way to the tip of his nose. He's so cute, so serious… and so fuckable like this.

You feel your heart speeding up and, above all, that wet heat spreading between your thighs. You're soaked, just from looking at him. Irreversibly hooked.

Discreetly, you slip off your shoe under the table and slide your bare foot up along his calf, slowly, teasing. The reaction is immediate. Izuku's head snaps up, his green eyes locking onto yours with that dark, almost dangerous look he only gets when you push him to his limit.

"Focus, baby," he murmurs in a low, reprimanding voice. "We have exams in less than a week, you know?"

Even his voice drives you crazy. When he gets all authoritative like that, when he calls you "baby" in that strict tone… Everything about him turns you on like mad.

"I know, I know… Sorry, Zuku," you reply breathlessly, looking away so you don't jump him right there in front of everyone. "But we've been studying for three hours…"

He sighs softly, a little half-smile tugging at his lips anyway. "A little longer and we'll leave, okay?"

"Okay…"

You last exactly five minutes.

Then you start again, looking more innocent this time. You nibble on the end of your pen while staring at him, your tongue slowly gliding over your lips. You see his gaze flick to your mouth for a second before he forces himself to look away, jaw clenched.

You want him to fuck you. Now. You won't last an hour, or even thirty minutes.

You glance quickly left, then right. The library is quiet, almost empty at this hour. Perfect. You pretend to drop your pen, which rolls under the table, and you slip to your knees on the floor without a sound, disappearing under the dark wood.

"Fuck… what are you doing down there, y/n?" he breathes, his voice already a little hoarse.

"Nothing? I'm just looking for my pen," you reply with an innocent smile, looking up at him.

Your hands are already sliding up his thick, muscular thighs, pressing lightly through his jeans. You feel his muscles tense under your palms. His breathing quickens, shorter, more ragged.

Izuku clenches his teeth, one hand gripping the edge of the table while the other slips down discreetly to grab your wrist.

"Y/N…" he growls under his breath, a clear warning in his voice. But he doesn't push you away. On the contrary, his fingers tighten around your wrist like he's torn between pulling you up or keeping you exactly where you are.

You slide your hands higher, up to the bulge already hardening under the zipper. You press your palm gently against his erection, feeling through the fabric just how hard he is for you already.

A small, stifled groan escapes him. He closes his eyes for a second, head tilting forward slightly, his glasses slipping even lower on his nose.

"You're completely insane…" he murmurs, voice rough. "We're in the library, for fuck's sake…"

But his hand isn't holding you back anymore. It even slides into your hair, fingers sinking lightly into your strands as if to guide you.

You look up at him with the most innocent expression possible while slowly undoing the button of his jeans. "Then tell me to stop, Zuku…"

He says nothing. He just stares at you, pupils blown wide, breathing heavy, as your fingers slide the zipper down with deliberate slowness.

The metallic zip glides tooth by tooth, almost silent in the hushed calm of the library. Every millimeter freed makes your stomach flutter harder. You can already feel the heat radiating from him, like his skin is burning under the fabric.

When his pants finally open, you slip both hands inside, gently spreading the sides of the denim. His dark gray boxer briefs are stretched tight, the massive shape of his cock straining against the cotton like an obscene promise.

You hook your fingers under the waistband and pull it down with calculated slowness. His cock springs out at once, heavy, thick, veined, the head already swollen and glistening with a bead of precum that slides slowly down.

It almost bounces against his flat stomach before standing proud in front of your face, barely ten centimeters from your mouth. The musky, warm, masculine scent hits you straight in the nose and makes you squeeze your thighs together. You're soaked, your panties stuck to your pussy.

You don't waste a second. Both hands wrap around the base, one over the other. Your soft skin against his, burning and velvety. You feel the veins throbbing under your palms as you start stroking him slowly, up and down, twisting your wrists slightly.

Your thumb brushes the main vein running the full length, pressing just enough to make it twitch. With your other hand, you massage his heavy balls, rolling them gently between your fingers, feeling how full and warm they are.

Izuku stifles a curse between his teeth. His hand in your hair tightens, tugging lightly on your strands without hurting you, just enough to remind you he's there, fighting not to moan too loud. His glasses are now completely crooked on his nose, his cheeks flushed, lips parted.

You bring your face closer. Your tongue slips out slowly, flat, and you lick from the base first, dragging a long, wet trail all the way up to the head.

The salty, slightly bitter taste makes you moan softly against him. You swirl around the head, your tongue drawing slow circles, pressing against the frenulum, sucking up the bead of precum that keeps leaking.

Your lips part and you take him into your mouth, just the tip at first. You hollow your cheeks, sucking gently while still stroking him with both hands in rhythm, up and down, squeezing just right so he feels every vein pulse against your tongue.

You sink lower, centimeter by centimeter, your mouth stretching around his thickness. He's so big your jaw is already starting to ache, but you keep going, saliva dripping from the corners of your lips, lubing everything.

You take him until the head touches the back of your throat, then pull back slowly, leaving a shiny string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. You start again, deeper this time, relaxing your throat.

A small, wet, almost obscene sound escapes you when you suck harder, your hands speeding up at the base, twisting slightly with every upward stroke.

Izuku leans forward, pretending to read his notes, but his eyes are locked on you. His breathing is ragged, fingers clenched in your hair. He whispers your name like a prayer and a curse: "Y/n… fuck… you suck me so good…"

You speed up. Your head moves faster now, lips sliding along his full length, tongue pressing against the underside. Your hands never stop: one strokes what your mouth can't reach, the other massages his balls, pulling them gently downward to build the pressure.

You hollow your cheeks with every suck, drawing on him like you want to drain him completely. Saliva runs down your chin, over your fingers, making everything slippery and noisy despite your efforts to stay quiet.

You feel him swell even more in your mouth, throbbing harder, his hips starting to twitch despite himself, pushing lightly against your throat.

You're on fire. Your pussy is drenched, you can feel your own juices trickling down your thigh. You press your thighs together, rubbing your clit discreetly against your panties, chasing a little friction while you suck him like a woman possessed.

He's close. You can tell. His cock grows even harder, veins pulsing under your tongue, balls tightening in your hand. His fingers tug harder on your hair, his breathing erratic.

He's trying to stay silent, but a low, rough groan slips out when you take him all the way to the back, your throat squeezing around him.

That's when it happens. A familiar, cheerful voice rings out a few meters from your table. "Izuku! Hey, man!"

Your heart stops for a split second. You try to place the voice. Is that Kacchan…? No, wait, is it Todoroki? No, it's Kirishima. Izuku's friend, the big redhead who's always smiling, the one who often stops by the library to "study" but mostly ends up talking about sports.

Izuku freezes completely. His hand in your hair clenches so tight it tugs on your scalp. His cock throbs violently in your mouth, but he stops moving, body taut like a bow.

"Kirishima…" he answers in an eerily calm voice, almost too calm, lifting his head slightly to look over the table. His glasses are crooked, his cheeks flushed crimson, but he forces a smile. "Hey… what are you doing here?"

You don't stop. You can't. Not yet. Your heart is racing, adrenaline mixing with desire. You keep sucking him slower, deeper, your tongue swirling around the head while your hands continue their slow, tight strokes at the base. You hear him swallow loudly above you.

Kirishima comes closer, his footsteps echoing on the parquet. He sets his bag on the neighboring table, barely two meters away.

"I came to grab some books for tomorrow's class. Have you seen y/n? You guys were studying together, right? I figured I'd find you both here."

Izuku coughs to cover the moan threatening to escape when your tongue flicks right under his head, the most sensitive spot.

"She… she went to the bathroom," he lies in a hoarse voice, jaw tight. "Two minutes ago."

You smile around his cock, lips stretched wide, and take him even deeper, until your nose is almost pressed against his hair. Your throat contracts around him. One hand drops to caress his balls while the other strokes him discreetly, hidden under the table.

Kirishima laughs, completely oblivious. "Oh yeah? Well, I'll wait for her a bit then. You guys making good progress on the revision?"

Izuku closes his eyes for a second, fingers buried in your hair, fighting with everything he has not to come in your mouth right in front of his friend. "Yeah… really good…" he breathes, voice cracking. "We're… almost done with the chapter."

You feel he's right on the edge. His cock is trembling in your mouth, stretched to the limit, ready to explode. You speed up discreetly, sucking harder, your hands working in perfect rhythm, saliva dripping everywhere.

The risk is driving you wild: the danger of getting caught, Kirishima's voice so close, Izuku trying to hold a conversation like nothing's happening.

"Cool! Mind if I sit with you guys for a couple minutes?" Kirishima asks, already pulling out a chair.

Izuku panics slightly. His free hand grips the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turn white. "Uh… yeah, but… wait, I…"

You feel the first thick, hot spurt flood your mouth just as Kirishima sits down. Izuku comes in complete silence, teeth clenched, body shaking with spasms he tries to hide by leaning over his notes. You swallow everything, not missing a drop, your tongue still caressing him as he pulses again and again, long and plentiful.

Kirishima settles in, smiling. "So how are you two doing?" Izuku, breathing hard, eyes glassy, barely manages to say: "Good… Good. Y/n and I are still as fused as ever."

Under the table, you lick his softening cock slowly, a victorious smile on your lips, his taste on your tongue and your heart pounding wildly.

The risk isn't over. Kirishima is right there, sitting next to you. And you're still on your knees, mouth full of him, soaked, more turned on than ever.

Kirishima stays for a good two more minutes, chatting away, completely unaware of what's happening under the table. He talks about his last training session, the professor who changed the syllabus at the last minute, and Izuku answers in hoarse monosyllables, voice cracked, one hand still clenched in your hair while the other pretends to turn pages in his notes.

You keep licking his dick gently, cleaning every last drop with your tongue, savoring the salty taste that lingers on your tongue.

Your chin is slick with saliva, your lips swollen, and your pussy is throbbing painfully, so wet you can feel your arousal dripping onto the floor.

Finally, Kirishima stands up, stretching. "Well, I won't keep you guys any longer. Tell y/n I said hi when she gets back! And good luck with the exams, man."

"Yeah… thanks dude, you too," Izuku mutters, jaw so tight you can almost hear his teeth grinding.

The second Kirishima's footsteps fade and disappear into the stacks, you slowly crawl out from under the table, knees a little sore from the hard floor.

You stand up, discreetly wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, a victorious, mischievous smile on your lips. Your hair is a little messy, your cheeks flushed, your eyes shining with unfulfilled desire.

Izuku stares at you for a second, pupils still dilated, breathing short. He quickly zips up his jeans, the zipper sliding up in a clumsy, hurried motion, the button snapping a little too loudly in the restored silence.

He stands up abruptly, grabs your wrist without a word and pulls you after him. His fingers are burning hot on your skin. "Come on," he growls under his breath, voice still rough from coming barely two minutes ago.

He drags you through the library aisles, past rows of dusty books and empty tables. He knows the place perfectly, he spends hours here every week.

He leads you to a secluded corner all the way at the back, where old law and philosophy books are piled high on tall shelves. No one ever comes here, especially not this late. The spot is dark, narrow, the air thick with the scent of old paper and polished wood.

As soon as you arrive, Izuku pins you against a shelf, his tall, muscular body pressed flush against yours. His lips crash into yours in a hungry, almost brutal kiss. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting the lingering traces of his own release on your tongue, which makes him groan against your lips.

He kisses you like he wants to devour you, one hand tangled in your hair to tilt your head exactly how he wants, the other already sliding down to your waist, gripping you tight against him.

"You're completely insane, fuck…" he murmurs between kisses, voice low and vibrating with aroused anger. "Sucking me off like that in front of Kiri… I almost moaned while he was talking to me."

You smile against his mouth, panting. "You loved it, admit it."

He doesn't answer with words. He growls and nips your lower lip before moving down to your neck, sucking and licking the sensitive skin just under your ear. His hands slide eagerly under your top, slipping under your bra without even unclasping it.

His big, warm palms cup your breasts, squeezing and kneading them with almost desperate urgency. His thumbs find your already hard nipples and pinch them, roll them, tug them gently. You moan against his shoulder, arching your back to offer him more.

"So sensitive…" he breathes, lowering his head. He yanks your top up roughly, exposing your breasts to the cool library air. His mouth closes over one nipple, sucking hard, tongue swirling around it while his hand works the other breast, kneading and lightly scratching with his nails.

He alternates, biting, licking, sucking until your nipples are swollen, red, hypersensitive. Every flick of his tongue sends jolts straight between your legs. You feel your clit throbbing, your panties completely soaked.

While he devours your breasts, one of his hands slides lower. He hikes your skirt up without gentleness, slips his fingers under your panties and immediately finds your burning, dripping pussy.

"Fuck… you're soaked," he growls against your chest, voice muffled. "All wet just from sucking me off?"

Two of his long fingers spread your lips, sliding easily between your slick folds thanks to how turned on you are. He pushes them in deep to the second knuckle, making you jolt and moan louder.

He starts moving them, curling to rub that exact spot inside you that makes you see stars. His thumb finds your swollen clit and starts circling it fast, pressing just right.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his t-shirt, legs shaking. His fingers pump in and out of you, faster and faster, the wet, obscene sounds echoing softly in the isolated corner.

He adds a third finger, stretching you, filling you, thrusting mercilessly while his mouth keeps torturing your breasts, leaving red hickeys on your skin.

"Baby… oh fuck…" you moan, head falling back against the books. He lifts his head, lips shiny, eyes dark with lust.

"You want me to fuck you here?" he asks in a rough voice, fingers speeding up even more, thumb pressing harder on your clit. "Like a little slut who can't even wait to get home to get fucked?"

You nod frantically, unable to form a coherent sentence. Your stomach clenches, the orgasm already building, fast and violent from all the time you spent sucking him without touching yourself.

But just when you feel like you're about to tip over, Izuku suddenly slows his fingers to a brutal stop. He keeps them buried deep inside you, motionless, while his thumb continues to brush your clit with unbearable lightness, almost teasing.

"Not yet," he murmurs against your ear, voice low and commanding. "You're going to wait. You tortured me under that table… now it's my turn."

He starts moving his fingers again, slowly this time, sliding them in and out of you with diabolical precision. He curls them on every pass to press against your G-spot, then pulls them almost all the way out before slamming them back in hard.

His thumb traces slow circles, then fast, then slow again, alternating the rhythm to keep you right on the edge without ever letting you come.

Every time your breathing speeds up and your walls clench around him, he slows down or stops completely, leaving you panting and frustrated.

"Zuku… please…" you beg, voice trembling, trying to rock your hips for more.

He chuckles softly, a dark, rough sound, and pulls his fingers out completely. You moan in protest, empty and desperate. He brings his glistening fingers to his mouth and licks them slowly, looking you straight in the eyes.

"You taste so good when you're frustrated…"

He spins you around abruptly to face the shelf, pressing your chest against the books. With one hand he hikes your skirt up to your waist, with the other he yanks your panties down to your knees in one sharp tug. You feel the cool air on your dripping pussy, completely exposed.

Behind you, you hear the familiar sound of his zipper coming down again. His cock, already hard again despite his recent orgasm, presses against your ass. Izuku leans over you, chest against your back, mouth right by your ear.

"You're going to take everything I give you, baby. Stay quiet."

He lines up his thick head against your soaked entrance and thrusts in with one powerful stroke, all the way to the hilt. The stretch is brutal, delicious, filling you completely. You bite your forearm to stifle your cry, eyes squeezed shut, pleasure exploding through your whole body.

Izuku doesn't give you any mercy.

He grips your hips firmly with both hands and starts fucking you from behind with deep, powerful, almost savage thrusts. Each push presses you harder against the shelf, making the old books tremble on the shelves.

His thick cock fills you completely every time, sliding easily into your drenched pussy still swollen from the frustration he put you through moments earlier. The wet sound of your bodies slapping echoes softly in the isolated corner, mixed with your stifled moans that you try desperately to hold back.

But it's not enough for him.

In one fluid motion, Izuku wraps an arm around your waist and lifts you slightly. Your body arches, your hands instinctively grabbing the shelves in front of you, fingers digging into the old wood and the spines of the books.

Your feet almost leave the floor. Only your toes still brush the parquet, your weight resting mostly on his strong arms and your precarious grip on the shelf. You feel completely at his mercy, suspended, offered, unable to do anything but take everything he gives you.

"Hold on tight, baby," he growls against your ear, voice rough and strained.

He adjusts his grip, one hand sliding under your thigh to hold you higher, the other planted firmly on your hip. In this position, he can sink even deeper. Every thrust is more violent, more precise.

His big cock spears you to the core, bumping against your cervix every time, the perfect angle to grind against your g-spot nonstop. Your bare breasts bounce with his movements, rubbing against the shelves.

Your fingers dig into the wood, knuckles white, while your feet dangle almost in the air, toes desperately searching for purchase they can't find.

Izuku fucks you like this, holding you almost lifted, pounding you mercilessly. His hips slap against your ass at a frantic rhythm, his hot, ragged breath in your neck. You feel every vein of his cock sliding inside you, every pulse, every inch stretching and filling you.

The pleasure is so intense you can barely breathe. Your clit rubs indirectly against the edge of the shelf with every thrust, adding extra stimulation that drives you insane.

"Fuck… you're so tight like this…" he groans, voice cracking with effort. "Look at you… hanging on my cock… Taking it all like a good girl."

You bite your forearm to muffle your moans, but it's getting harder and harder. Little high-pitched cries escape you anyway, quickly turning into shaky breaths. Your walls clench violently around him, squeezing his cock like a vice with every thrust.

The orgasm builds again, stronger, more overwhelming, fueled by all the built-up frustration and this dominant position that makes you feel completely owned.

Izuku senses you're close. He speeds up even more, hips slamming into you with almost brutal force. He lifts you a little higher, holding you firmly against him, your feet no longer touching the floor at all now.

You're entirely suspended, impaled on his thick cock, hands clenched on the shelf for balance. Every movement makes you bounce slightly on him, the angle even deeper, even more devastating.

"I'm gonna come…" he breathes against your ear, voice rough and urgent. "Come with me, baby. But stay quiet. Not a sound."

His fingers slide between your legs and pinch your clit between two fingers, rubbing it fast and firm while he keeps pounding you without mercy. It's too much.

The combination of his cock hammering you, his fingers on your hypersensitive clit, and the feeling of being lifted, completely dominated, sends you over the edge.

The orgasm hits you like a violent wave. Your walls spasm around him, squeezing his cock so hard he lets out a low groan. Your body shakes from head to toe, toes curling in the air, fingers clawing at the wooden shelf.

You bite down hard on your forearm to keep from screaming, a long, muffled moan vibrating in your throat as pleasure explodes inside you, making you see stars. Your juices gush around his cock, soaking his thighs and the floor below.

Izuku follows right after. He thrusts one last time as deep as possible and comes with a rough, stifled groan against your shoulder. You feel his cock pulse violently inside you, releasing thick, hot jets that fill you completely.

He keeps moving slowly through his orgasm, as if he wants to make it last, keeping you suspended on him while he empties himself fully.

You stay like that for a long moment, panting, trembling. Your feet barely touch the floor, your body still impaled on him, his strong arms holding you against his chest. He presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the back of your sweat-damp neck, his warm breath against your skin.

"Fuck… I love you," he murmurs in a cracked voice, still breathless. "But the next time you pull a stunt like that under the table… I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk."

He sets you down gently on your feet, his cock sliding slowly out of you with a wet, obscene sound. The second his head leaves your entrance, a thick stream of warm cum drips down the inside of your thigh, tracing a shiny path on your skin.

Your knees buckle, completely liquefied. You wobble, body weak and trembling, unable to support your own weight. You would have fallen if Izuku hadn't caught you in time.

He pulls you against his chest protectively, one strong arm around your waist while the other hand slides into your hair, gently stroking the back of your neck.

"Easy… I've got you," he murmurs in a low, rough voice, still a little breathless but already softer. He holds you tight, giving you time to come back to yourself, his warm, solid body your anchor.

You feel his heart still racing against your cheek, his breath tickling the top of your head. His fingers keep up their slow, soothing strokes in your hair, almost comforting after the roughness with which he took you moments earlier.

"Hey…" he murmurs, his voice suddenly much gentler, almost worried. He pulls you closer, letting you steady yourself. "I fucked you too hard… Sorry, baby. I got a little too mean earlier."

He kisses your forehead, then your temple, slowly moving down your cheek. His touches are tender now, completely contrasting with the brutality from before.

He adjusts your top to cover you, carefully pulls your skirt back down, and wipes the corner of your still-swollen mouth with his thumb.

You're weak, legs wobbly, body still shivering with aftershocks. Your breathing is short, your head resting on his shoulder. You feel completely spent, but so, so good.

"I… I loved it," you manage to whisper in a hoarse, weak voice, a tired little smile on your lips. "I really loved it… when you're like that."

Izuku lets out a soft, almost relieved laugh. He pulls you a little tighter against him, one hand slowly caressing your back under your top.

"Yeah… I could tell how hard you were squeezing my cock when I talked dirty to you," he replies quietly, a smile in his voice. "But still… I'm sorry I was so rough. You're still shaking. I didn't mean to wreck you that much."

He kisses you tenderly this time, a slow, deep kiss full of affection. His lips are soft against yours, his tongue caressing yours gently. You kiss him back, weakly but with all the love you feel for him, your fingers loosely gripping his sweatshirt.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. "I love you, y/n. Really. Even when you drive me completely crazy by sucking me off under the table in front of my friend."

You laugh weakly against his chest, still catching your breath. "I love you too, Zuku… But next time… maybe we can just go straight home after studying."

He smiles, lifts you up again, this time fully in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head on his shoulder.

"Come on. I'll take you back to the table, pack up our stuff, and we'll head home. You need a hot shower and some cuddles. And maybe I'll make you something to eat."

You close your eyes, nestled against him, a satisfied smile on your lips. Despite the exhaustion, you feel perfectly happy, loved, and already impatient to do this kind of "studying" with him again.

masterlist

taglist: @jmclouds @onepiecenthusiast @toxim0 @koreim @kyluskaye @mooncherrix

© 2026 creampiedby. All work belongs to @creampiedby. Do NOT repost, modify, translate or plagiarize in any way on ANY platforms.

[smolivin]

⊹₊⟡⋆ consequences | dk x bk x reader ⋆⟡₊⊹

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ you and katsuki find out what happens when you push izuku too far⋆｡˚✴︎⋆ 1.2k wc

٠࣪⭑ cw: 18+, established poly relationship, dom!brat tamer!izuku, switch!brat!katsuki, sub!fem!brat!reader, brat taming, edging, orgasm denial, humiliation, ruined orgasm, orgasm control, vibrator use, dacryphilia, degradation (kinda idk just to be safe), light breath play, teasing, spitting, spit swallowing, immobility, discipline/punishments, this is straight up smut

٠࣪⭑ author's note: this started as an ask and then i accidentally went in a totally random direction with it so it gets to be its own post! not rlly proofread and lowkey not edited, please let me know if i forgot any tags!

“keep her legs open, kacchan.”

you’re having a difficult time remembering how exactly you got yourself into this position.... of course, part of it you know; rage baiting izuku is way too easy, and it's so fun to watch him simmering below the surface just knowing that you're gonna get it all back later. today though, you severely miscalculated his mood, and now you're paying for it.

“what the hell does it look like i’m doing?” katsuki’s long, soft fingers are cupping the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs parted no matter how much you try to squeeze them closed. your head is pressed into his chest, eyes fluttering as you strain to look at his face.

in front of you, izuku has both of your wrists locked in his own firm grip. he’s keeping one of your hands in place, forcing you to hold the buzzing vibrator against your clit as you pant and moan. he flits his eyes up to katsuki’s face, cocks his brow as he says, “it looks to me like you’re talking back.”

you can feel the pulsating of katsuki's heavy cock, pressed against the plush of your ass – it makes you squirm and fight the strong arms that restrain you. you turn your head, batting your eyes at the blonde as your chest heaves. a silent question is held in your longing gaze: help me?

he snorts. "what are you lookin' at me for?" when he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice is barely above a whisper. "you're just diggin' yourself deeper, sweetheart." you heave a sigh and reluctantly look back at the man in front of you.

izuku clicks his teeth, sets his mouth in a disappointed line; his usual gentle and permissive nature is nowhere to be found. you screw your eyes shut in frustration, still unwilling to accept defeat. in response, he meanly presses your wrist down, harder. you gasp as the overstimulation makes your toes curl, makes a fresh bead of sweat roll down the back of your neck. "so you listen to kacchan?"

"i-i listen to you both...!" you squeak, trailing off into another pitchy moan when izuku switches a setting on the toy, changing from pulsing to consistent vibrations.

katsuki chuckles behind you, muttering "please," under his breath in amusement.

izuku just rolls his eyes. "add lying to the list," he says, green eyes narrowed at your flushed face. when you start to protest, he sighs and turns the intensity of the vibrations up by one, making you squeal and writhe, of course to no avail. "you've really been pushing my buttons all day." it's too bad for you, he's not in a very nice mood right now. when your legs start to shake, he asks "what are we at?"

right, you were supposed to be keeping track... you're trembling all over, the churning in your gut indicating another orgasm is building. you swallow hard, intending to reply, but a shuddering gasp comes out instead.

izuku sighs, forcing your fingers open and dropping the vibrator into his waiting palm, murmuring about simple questions and simple rules. it's cruel, he's stolen the sensation too soon and ruined the pleasure that should have come. he always knows exactly when you're getting close, his timing alarmingly accurate; he knows your body and it's reactions like the back of his own hand.

you sob and whine, and one of katsuki's thumbs traces the skin of your inner thigh. he placatingly kisses a trail down your temple, unable to stop himself from licking his lips when they make contact with your wet cheek. he hums at the salty taste, kissing you again, your jaw this time; it's a small show of solidarity, acknowledging his role in earning you your punishment. he's always the one who spurs you on, goading you into doubling down on your bratty behavior, and today it blew up in both your faces.

at least he's feeling sweet on you right now; usually when izuku is teaching you a lesson, katsuki is the devil on his shoulder, but today he's in the hot seat right alongside you. however, izuku has different gripes with you both, and so his treatment is different too.

katsuki's breath feels so nice against your skin, and you grind back into him as best you can; he groans into you, pressing his forehead into the junction between your neck and shoulder as he shoves his hips forward against your ass, desperately seeking any relief. his cock is dripping pre all over you, sliding down your flesh and making his thighs all sticky. he's so big behind you, heat emanating off his skin in waves; it's overwhelming, the caramel scent of his sweat curling in your nose.

"i see we're both feeling bratty today," izuku tuts, turning off the vibrator and tossing it to the side with a sigh. "i think some of us are forgetting the rules."

he lifts on to his knees so he's towering over you both and slaps at katsuki's hands, indicating he should let go of your legs. you whimper when he does and your legs reflexively snap together, puffy sex sensitive to any sudden movements.

izuku places heavy hands on your shoulders and slowly pushes you back, down, you into katsuki and he the pillows behind him. "spread," he orders, and katsuki helps you hike your knees up and back, exposing your creamy pussy to izuku's hawkish stare. he bears down on you, moving one of his hands to katsuki's shoulder to brace himself, as he uses the other to line his cock up at your entrance, nudging his angry red tip against your clit just to tease you.

he's heavy against the heat of your sex, your slick soaking him all over, but he doesn't slip inside you yet – his movements are slow, deliberate. he teases at your slit and you gush, staring up at him with wide, dewy eyes as he leans close to your face, his curls tickling your skin and sending shivers arcing down your spine. his breath is wet in your ear when he reminds you,

"you cum when i say so."

izuku shifts the hand on katsuki's shoulder to brace against the hollow of his throat; you can feel the blonde's heart racing at your back. izuku leans over your head to give the man behind you a wet, sloppy kiss, the sound washing over you blissfully. you clench around nothing, the emptiness in your achy cunt bordering on painful. craning your neck to get a better look, you watch izuku place a loving peck against kacchan's lips before he taps them with his thumb, tugging the bottom one down slightly. taking the hint, katsuki lets his mouth fall open, and izuku lovingly spits – gifting the blonde graciously, affording him a small smile when he swallows the glob down obediently.

vermillion eyes are locked on green as izuku pulls back, letting his smile settle into a smug expression.

"and you, kacchan–"

he gives katsuki's throat a gentle squeeze as he finally, finally, finally eases his cock into your gaping hole, bottoming out in one swift maneuver; it leaves both of you gasping and keening.

izuku has his two little brats right where he wants them, bullied into submission and begging him for whatever he's willing to throw their way.

"you don't cum at all."

٠࣪⭑ a/n: yay! bkdk porn yay! as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! taglist :3 @shotorizawa @hachikinss @lonelyfooryouonly (to join you must be over 18, age in bio and following me!

[dotlusional]

izuku’s best friend | bakugo, k. + midoriya, i.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, toxic dynamics (not dot sanctioned healthy communication tactics), established relationship (izuku x reader), softdom!brat tamer!izuku, dom!brat tamer!katsuki, sub!fem!afab!reader (a little crybabyish), creampies, overstimulation, a little marathon sex, consensual non-con (there is a continuous safe word in reader and izuku’s relationship, but reader is a brat & pretends to be reluctant), threesome, pinv, FACE FUCKING!!!!! pussy EATING. both men are mean :( poor you :( dot hate for katsuki shows up, gets sweet at the end, usage of good girl and some degradation, canon divergent

ꉂ ᵎᵎ original a/n: everyone thank 🍮 anon for spoon feeding me this fic i lowkey blacked out writing this. in my mind for katsuki and izuku to have been best friends since childhood in this fic, i imagined izuku having been born with a quirk. they’re so Boyish (notice the effect of having a male best friend vs a girl best friend… (speaking about SMAS) if i forgot any cw/tw tell me

ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n #2: this is a reblog from my old account

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: after a fight with your boyfriend, izuku, he asks his best friend, katsuki, to come over the next day to help act as a “mediator” of sorts

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~6k words

mentally ill girl with daddy issues. out of all the girls in the world, midoriya izuku just had to fall in love with the mentally ill girl with daddy issues. he had only himself to blame, he thought to himself, as he tossed his shattered PS5 into the dumpster— the one you had destroyed in a fit of rage.

after becoming a pro-hero, money was the least of izuku’s worries— and for you, it never had been one at all. maybe that’s why you thought it didn’t matter if something broke; you could always just replace it. but that wasn’t the problem here. not the real one. no, in all the time since you started dating, never once had izuku imagined hearing you call him the worst boyfriend ever. not only that, but according to you, he was also mean, never there for you, and the only good thing about him was his dick.

it would be almost funny if it all wasn’t so maddening. throughout your relationship, izuku had been nothing but kind and patient, all while juggling the impossibly high demands of being the new #1 hero. there were millions of fans out there who would kill to be in your position — even a few top-class heroes who had practically begged him for political marriages, desperate to produce the next generation's strongest hero — but he chose you, a quirkless, spoiled brat who seemed determined to test the limits of his patience.

in a way, it wasn’t unusual— your arguments often followed the same pattern. you’d lash out, he’d stay calm— patient, listening, always trying to understand, and your fights would burn out just as quick as they came, the tension melting away in some much needed rough sex. but this time was different. this time, it had gone too far.

as izuku trekked up the stairs back into your shared apartment, he could feel exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. he entered the bedroom quietly, the dim lights of the city revealing you clutching your pillow as you slept, its fabric stained dark with tears. he let out a quiet sigh at the sight, not out of pity, but out of something more complex. frustration. weariness. love. you clearly regretted what you said and did, but when it came down to it, you didn’t know how to apologize properly— something he blamed on your father, who had always thrown money at you instead of teaching you discipline.

after a few minutes of deliberation, he picked up his phone from the nightstand and sent a series of messages to his best friend, asking for a favor. the reply came only minutes later. once their exchange was finished, he set the device aside and slipped beneath the covers beside you. as his arms wrapped around your stiff form, you gradually softened against him— your breathing falling in rhythm with his. with one last sigh, he joined you in your slumber, wishing you were this good for him all the time.

the next morning, izuku didn’t talk much with you. you didn’t either, guilt sitting heavy in your chest making it hard to even look his way. it didn’t help that the only conclusion you’d reached from the fight last night was that you were going to “talk” about it later.

it was right around early afternoon when the doorbell rang. you were in the kitchen, finishing up washing some dishes, while izuku lounged on the couch in the living room, doomscrolling on his phone. “i’ll get it,” he called out, rising to his feet, his tone carrying a note of expectation— as if he was waiting for something or someone.

as he opened the door, a gruff “yo,” greeted him. you peeked around the corner at the sound, frowning as your eyes landed on bakugo katsuki, ducking under the doorframe as he stepped inside. you weren’t exactly a fan of the pro-hero, even if he was your boyfriend's best friend. he was crude and blunt, and you always felt like when he was around and izuku wasn't looking, he would ogle you.

“are you guys going somewhere?” you ask, wiping your wet hands on the fabric of your sweatpants as you approached the two men, confused on why katsuki was here.

“no, baby,” izuku said, turning his head down to look at you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “katsuki is here to help me with something.”

“with what?”

“making you less of a bitch,” katsuki says casually, like it was funny.

“excuse me?” you frown, caught off guard and offended, reactively shooting a look at izuku to see if he was going to allow his friend’s disrespect. “are you going to let him talk to me like that?”

izuku lets out a sigh, not necessarily happy with katsuki’s delivery or phrasing but he already knew the other man was not one to beat around the bush. “why would i do anything?”

“uhm— because you’re my boyfriend?”

“oh, but i thought i was the ‘worse boyfriend ever?”

“you said that?” katsuki asks, snickering.

your gaze bounces between the two men, incredulity and embarrassment washing over you. “is this about last night?" you ask in a hushed voice, trying to maintain some privacy in your relationship. “i thought you said we were going to talk about it...”

“we are,” izuku says evenly, his hand sliding to your hip, holding you in place. “katsuki’s just here to mediate. in a way.”

unease tightens in your chest as you glance between the two men once more. “what does that mean?”

with a lean towards you, katsuki takes it upon himself to spell it out for you, the condescension dripping from his voice. “it means your boyfriend wants me to show you worse.”

at his intimidation, you cling onto izuku, searching your boyfriend's face for an answer. “babe?” you question, fingers gripping the side of his shirt, hoping for some comfort.

instead, izuku only exhales, his body language calm but unreadable. “would you come with me to the bedroom?” he asks softly, not explaining anything to you.

“for what?”

“to talk.”

you start to protest — “not if he’s going to—” — but your words are cut off with a startled gasp as izuku lifts you up effortlessly, and slings you over his shoulder. “—izuku! put me down!”

as you're carried off into the bedroom, struggling to escape izuku's grasp, katsuki follows close behind, mentally taking note of how your ass looked in your sweatpants. when izuku finally sets you down on the bed, he sits beside you, all while katsuki leans against the doorframe, watching everything unfold. instinctively, you try to get up, but izuku’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist to halt your movement.

“stay,” he commands.

“izuku, this isn’t funny!” you bark back.

“do you see me laughing?” he asks rhetorically, before motioning for katsuki to come inside and take a seat on the bed. at the invitation, katsuki does so, making sure to close the door behind him. as he plops down, inching closer to you, you instinctively crawl into izuku’s lap, pressing your back against his chest.

“she’s scared,” katsuki says with a chuckle, speaking about you like you were some sort of animal or pet.

“i’d be scared too,” izuku muses, “have you seen the way you look?”

“baby,” you call out, switching gears as you begin to feel small in a room alone with two men, pleading with your boyfriend to take you seriously. “what’s actually going on? i don’t like this. i'm, i'm sorry for last night— but...”

hearing the tremor in your voice, izuku refocuses his attention back onto you, studying your posture. “we’re just talking, honey,” he says with a sigh, rubbing your shoulders. “no need to be so nervous.”

“i don’t see why your friend has to be here for that then.”

katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, as if there’s some joke you're not in on. izuku just reaches up, fingers brushing gently through your hair, trying to soothe you. “we need to talk about last night, my love— and how we are going to make sure it never happens again. katsuki's here to help with that.”

“okay well— it’s- it’s never going to happen again. are we done?”

izuku does his best to hide his chuckle at your attempt to avoid confrontation with another sigh, this time shaking his head as if disappointed. “if only i could take your word for it, baby. but, lately... i just feel like you’ve been taking me for granted.”

at his tone, guilt tugs at your heart, and your voice drops in volume. “i don’t do that…”

he clicks his tongue softly. “really? because it wasn’t very nice of you to break my stuff last night— or to say those things about me.”

“i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, shame creeping up your neck. “i was just mad. i didn’t mean to...”

“yeah?” he asks, voice thoughtful, and not convinced. “i don’t know. it’s not the first time you’ve said mean things to me, you know. sometimes... it just feels like you don’t really love me...”

“i do love you!”

a pout forms on his lips, his eyes clouded with a look of pity. “then how come i find that you make me sad more times than happy, baby?”

not knowing what to say, your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. “i don’t mean to,” you whisper, finding that you’re repeating yourself. “i want to make you happy, izuku…”

izuku pauses for a long moment at your words, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes as his plan began to fall into place.

“…could you show me?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“show you…?”

“yeah,” he says slowly, leaning back as if weighing the words. “show me that you want to make me happy.”

you blink back tears, confused on what exactly he wanted, wishing he’d just tell you. “you want me to show you? how?”

his lips curve into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “well,” he murmurs, his breath tickling the nape of your neck, “however you think is best. i just want to see what exactly you’d do to prove it to me.”

as your mind scrambles for an answer, desperate to make things right, it feels like the room starts to spin. “i’d do… whatever you want,” you decide at last.

another soft snicker escapes katsuki, but it’s izuku’s deepening smile that makes your stomach twist.

“really, baby? whatever i want?” he asks, the hope in his voice deliberately deceiving.

you nod before you can give it a second thought.

he tilts his head, eyes studying your face.

“would you kiss katsuki?”

for a second, you think you misheard him. as katsuki's role in all this finally dawns on you, your stomach twists some more, yet you can't stop your following question from tumbling from your lips, hoping your assumptions were wrong. “is this… some kind of test?”

“nope,” he replies with the shake of his head, the expression smooth and calculated. “you got this idea that i'm mean to you, baby. i just want to show you that i’m not. katsuki here, would be kind enough to help me prove it.” his hand brushes your cheek, faking warmth. “if you really mean that you’d show me just how much you want to make me happy, then, show me.”

you hesitate as dread settles on your shoulders— the feeling cold and heavy. he was actually serious, you thought to yourself. slowly, you crawl towards where katsuki sat on the bed, the expectant smirk never leaving his face. you glance back at your boyfriend, searching his expression for some kind of direction on how to proceed— or maybe as a last-ditch plea for mercy, despite knowing deep down, there wouldn’t be any.

“ask katsuki if he could do you a favor,” is all izuku murmurs.

your hands wring together as the words stumble over each other— humiliation churning in your stomach. “bakugo—” you choke out, only to be interrupted by izuku’s sharp correction.

“katsuki, baby.”

"katsuki," you try again, almost whispering, his first name feeling too casual on your tongue. “could you do me a favor?”

katsuki's gaze lazily takes in your quivering form, throughly amused by izuku's approach with you, thinking it was all too unnecessarily gentle. “what was that?” he asks, encouraging you to repeat yourself.

“can you do me a favor?”

“hell are you so quiet for? speak up.”

your hands twist in the fabric of your shirt, reflecting the turmoil inside you as you don't meet his gaze. “i s-said, can you do me a favor?”

with a suck of his teeth, katsuki grabs you by the arm, bringing your face close to his ear. “grown ass woman but can't even fuckin' talk right. speak. up.”

“katsuki,” you repeat, louder this time, although through clenched teeth and shut eyes, “can you do me a favor?”

“ah,” he says, like he didn't understand you the whole time. “what sort of favor?”

“a kiss…”

“you want me to kiss you?” he asks, his teasing tone deliberately getting under your skin.

“i don’t want to kiss you—” you snap, embarrassment burning through you, and a sharp tsk from izuku cuts you off instantaneously. katsuki just lets out a low, drawn-out “oooh,” mocking your lack of self-control as you do something izuku clearly doesn’t like.

“get closer to him,” izuku tells you. reluctantly you do so, annoyed as you are forced to straddle katsuki’s lap. when he rests his hands on your hips, clearly enjoying himself, you can’t help but squirm. you avert your eyes, swallowing the fact that you’ll just have to go along with the blond’s teasing.

“katsuki, i want you to kiss me,” you mumble, begrudgingly. “can you kiss me?”

he laughs at your expression, his fingers curling around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “you have to look at someone when you ask them a favor like this.”

you bite back a sob, the humiliation clawing at your chest. forcing yourself not to look away, you rush the words out, all too fast this time. “katsukicanyoupleasekissme?”

“damn, you fuckin' must like making things harder for yourself, huh? slowlyyyy, girl— i’m not going anywhere."

taking a moment to draw in a shaky breath, heart hammering and ears burning, you finally manage to ask properly, all while holding eye contact.

“katsuki can you please kiss me? i, i really want you to.”

“oh, good girl,” he praises, like you’re a dog. “a long kiss or a short kiss?”

at his teasing, you begin to sniffle, hating how drawn out this was. you look over your shoulder at izuku, awaiting for what your answer should be.

“a long one.”

“a long one,” you echo, silent tears dripping down your cheeks, a sight which goes straight to katsuki’s dick.

“i can give you a long one, yeah,” katsuki snickers, the grin on his face almost unsettling. “c’mere.”

at his instruction, you hesitantly lean forward, shaky hands reaching out to his face. tentatively, your lips brush his, a pit forming in your stomach as the kiss deepens— not because you were kissing another man that wasn’t your boyfriend, but because katsuki was scary! you realized far too late just how nice your boyfriend really was to you.

similar to the way he carried himself, katsuki was rough with his kisses, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth just to hear you yelp and cry some more. when you managed to wrangle yourself away to catch your breath, he pulled you back, his hand wrapped around the back of your head. this time, as you kissed, you felt his free hand snake up under your shirt, giving your braless tits a full-palmed squeeze. your eyes widened at the contact, and you placed your hands on his chest, trying to create some distance.

“i-izuku!” you called out to your boyfriend with a whine, hoping that he was now satisfied with this display. “he’s touching my boobs!”

however, his only response was a shrug, leaning back against the bed’s headboard as he continued to enjoy the show, but not without adjusting the position of his dick in his pants. “you know your safe word.”

at izuku’s reply, katsuki laughed, quick to work your shirt over your head. as your bare chest met the nippy air, you reflexively covered yourself with your arms. the blond then just rolled his eyes, peeling your hands out of the way so he could continue to play with your boobs as he moved to mark up the sensitive skin of your neck. biting and sucking, you winced with every hickey he left, forced to give into his manhandling.

“you into the prude act?” katsuki asks izuku with a chuckle, right after leaving a particularly painful one on your lower jaw.

“she’s not a prude,” izuku corrects, “she’s reserved.”

“reserved? that’s a cute word for it. i can see why you put up with her bullshit. these feel great,” katsuki comments on your tits, rolling a nipple in between his fingers and silencing your consequential whine with another deep kiss.

“yeah, they’re nice. you should try out her pussy.”

despite your haze, your thighs clench around katsuki’s hips at izuku’s offer to him, unknowing if it was anticipation or fear. nevertheless, you speak up, shaking your head.

“n-no! no! you said just a kiss, baby!”

your boyfriend simply arches an eyebrow at your protest. “you don’t think he needs to give you a kiss down there?”

“bet she’s already soaked,” katsuki adds with a laugh.

“i’m not!” you lie, voice shrill, not wanting to give katsuki the satisfaction that he was right. however, seeing right through you, the two men share a knowing look.

“baby,” izuku calls out to you, beckoning for you to come to him. “come here.”

although you're relieved to be allowed off katsuki's lap, a shiver runs down your spine as you crawl towards izuku, left only to wonder what could be going through his mind. when you are finally in front of him, he works you back into his lap again. then, his hands begin to tug the waistband of your sweats downwards.

“izuku, wait, no!” you cry, squirming to keep your pants on, not wanting to show his best friend proof of your arousal.

“quit it,” he orders you with a rasp, an arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you still. knowing going against his wishes will just get you in deeper trouble, you reluctantly oblige, hiding your face as your slick-stained panties are revealed to two sets of hungry eyes.

“looks like someone is a liar...” katsuki chuckles, now sitting in front of you as izuku kept your thighs open.

“jesus, babe,” izuku mumbles against the shell of your ear as he examines just how turned on you were, his fingers moving to press down against your clit through the thin fabric. “you like being bullied, huh?”

all you can manage in response is a shake of your head, embarrassment tempting you once more to let tears roll down your cheeks.

“i told you,” katsuki says to izuku with a laugh, face lowering near your core, his breath hot against your thighs as he watches izuku play with your clothed slit. “girls don’t like when you play nice all the time. they like being treated like stupid whores.”

“is that right?” izuku asks, but your brain doesn’t register that he’s talking to you at first. at your lack of response, his hand taps your cheek to draw your attention. “hey— do you like it better when i’m nice or mean to you?”

“nice,” you choke out, tensing up as katsuki lays in between your legs, and rests his head on your knee.

“ah, so you think i’m mean to you sometimes?”

“i, no…?”

“i think she does,” katsuki antagonizes, laughing once more, the sound pulling a glare out of you.

izuku lets out sigh, pulling your panties to the side as he does, and both men watch as the slick of your folds stick to izuku’s fingers. “that’s a shame,” he mumbles. your breath hitches as he spreads your pussy’s lips to let his best friend take a look inside. “i think katsuki has to show you what mean actually is if you think i’ve ever been mean to you, baby.”

you find yourself shaking your head again — “nononono” — thighs trembling and twitching to clamp shut, yet unable to due to the pressure of izuku’s forearms against them. “oh no, yeah,” he mockingly pouts. “give katsuki another kiss, okay?”

your gaze meets katsuki’s as he looks up at you, a grin plastered on his face as he slowly leans his head towards your entrance, and places chaste kiss after chaste kiss around it. each one has you whimpering, as well as fighting the urge to buck your hips against his mouth as you traitorously want more. eventually, katsuki begins to lick, his warm tongue lapping up the drool leaking from your pussy, and drawing out a moan from you.

“gross,” izuku grimaces as katsuki’s tongue touches his finger as he was still keeping you spread open. he pulls away his hand, bringing it up to your lips, expecting you to suck off the collected slick. obediently, you do, taking his fingers into your mouth, and tasting your own arousal on them. in response to izuku’s reaction, katsuki just smirks, before continuing to eat you out, hands splaying against your inner thighs to hold them open now since izuku withdrew his assistance.

the fervor of katsuki’s mouth on you causes your back to grind against izuku’s heavy and hard bulge, a hiss escaping his lips at the friction. the gears in your head begin to turn at the sound, and you turn your head to side.

“can i help you with your prob, problem, baby?” you ask, hoping it would get you on his good side and convince him to be nice to you.

unfortunately, yet again, izuku sees right through you. still, he smiles, allowing you a brief moment to think you were so smart. “oh — my good girl — of course,” he whispers, placing a kiss onto your shoulder. he motions to katsuki to unlatch himself off you, and the other man obliges, resting on his heels as he wipes his mouth of your juices with the back of his hand.

thighs still quivering, you flip onto your stomach, almost drooling over the sight of izuku tugging down his pajama pants just enough to free his dick, the head thudding softly against his lower abdomen when it is.

your cheek rests against his inner thigh as you run your fingers up his length, all before capturing it in a firm grip, and giving his dick a few strokes of admiration. as you brush a hair behind your ear, right about to take him into your mouth, you feel katsuki’s rough hands behind you, suddenly groping the globes of your ass. before you can protest, izuku stops you, his hand threading throughout your hair and grabbing you by the roots in a gentle tug, instructing you to focus and continue. begrudgingly, you do, finding your lower half at katsuki’s mercy as you are occupied with sucking izuku’s dick.

wrapping your lips around his flared tip, your tongue flicks against the prominent veins of his shaft, before enveloping him in totality, down to the base, with your forehead pressing against his abs. the result of your efforts is a low, tender “yeah… sh— good girl…” from your boyfriend, the groan going straight-down to the heartbeat of your clit.

eventually you find a steady rhythm, your head bobbing up and down izuku’s length at a comfortable speed, only for it to be interrupted when you feel katsuki’s tongue against your pussy once more, your escaping moans from the sensation causing vibrations around izuku, making him twitch in your mouth.

as you begin to lose focus, trying not to squeal when katsuki takes a shallow bite into the fat of your ass, izuku kisses his teeth, the sound cutting through your haze. “baby,” he murmurs, the warning wrapped in softness, “if katsuki makes you cum before you make me, i’m gonna let him fuck your pussy till it’s wrecked.”

and while you scramble to continue with your hard work, you find the cards stacked against you as pro-hero, bakugo katsuki becomes invigorated with competition and the promise of a prize. grabbing you by the hips, he buries his face in between your asscheeks, tongue plunging in and out of your sopping wetness, licking, sucking— all done with the intent on making you cum quick. all you can manage to do is pathetically clamp your thighs around his head as you struggle to adjust to the sudden overwhelming intensity, finding it difficult to focus on swirling your tongue around izuku’s frenulum in a satisfying manner.

it’s when you feel katsuki fucking motorboating your clit with the flat of his tongue, drool running down his chin and coating your inner thighs, that you realize you might be done for. as your approaching climax comes, you try your best not to give away any tells, resisting the urge to curl your toes. unfortunately, there was no way to play off the resulting spasms running throughout your body. with a toothy grin, katsuki places one last kiss to your pussy, before sitting back on his haunches, priding himself on a job well done.

“she came~” he drawls in a grating, sing-sone tone.

your glossed over eyes as you looked up at izuku to deny it did nothing for your case. “i didn’t— i didn’t, wait, wait,” you pleaded, hearing the rustle of katsuki’s belt unbuckle behind you, and hoping izuku would believe you and tell his friend to wait, despite knowing deep down he wouldn’t.

“if you didn’t cum,” katsuki snickers, finally shimmying off his jeans, and you gasp as you feel the mushroom-shaped tip of his dick languidly sliding up and down your slit, threatening to push past the barrier of resistance, “then you wouldn’t be too sensitive for me to put it in, yeah?”

expecting you to answer the other man, izuku arches an eyebrow down at you, feigning tenderness as he brushes a hair sticking to the sweat of your forehead out of your face. “y-yeah,” you answer, knees struggling to support themselves as katsuki lifts your hips up to align himself better. as you feel the crown of his cock gradually entering you, you let out a telling hiss, the stretch obviously too overstimulating. “but, wait, you didn’t— fuck — you didn’t make me cum yet, you can’t—”

your chest heaves as he buries himself to the hilt, fresh tears running down your cheeks as you whimper and gasp. “s-stupid!” you spit out in frustration, before sobbing into your boyfriend’s lap. katsuki could feel every clench of your pussy around him, the grip like a vice as a result of your recent orgasm, and he bites his lower lip to suppress a groan.

“she’s — fuckkkk... yeah, baby, tighten up just like that — doing a lot... of talking for someone who should be sucking,” katsuki laughs breathlessly as he begins to move. izuku only hums in reply, watching how your face contorts as katsuki hits that soft spongy spot inside you.

“is it too much?” izuku asks you with a murmur, checking in on you. when you shake your head, a soft smile spreads across his face. “good. then i don’t see why you stopped.”

as he gestures towards his dick, signaling for you to continue what you were doing, your brows furrow, biting back the urge to say something mean. with a huff, you take him back into your mouth.

meanwhile, katsuki’s hold on your hips becomes bruising as he pulls you back to slam your ass in tandem with his thrusts. upon seeing you struggle to give him head once more, izuku takes it upon himself to steady you, fingers intermingling with hair as he grabs the sides of your head and bucks his cock down your throat.

the splutter of your slobber mixes together with your tears as your mouth becomes a fleshlight for your boyfriend’s pleasure. “suck,” he says plainly, like he’s doing you a favor since he’d be doing all the moving. in a way, he was right, as all you had to do now was hollow your cheeks and lay your tongue out expectantly.

just as the sharp sting of overstimulation finally began to melt into pleasure, that’s when katsuki's movements stuttered, much to your annoyance. “sh-shit,” he curses, your back arching as he drills himself deeper. “it's chill, if, fuck, i do it inside— right?”

“she'd prefer it,” izuku answers for you since your mouth was occupied at the moment, heavy balls slapping against your chin. “always” — plap — “complaining” — plapplapplap — “when” — plap — “i” — plap — “let” — plap — “it” — plap — “out” — plap — “on” — plap — “her” — plap — “back.” he punctuates his words with a groan as he makes you take him to the hilt, holding you there as you gag.

the velvet of your walls squeeze down on katsuki as you choke on izuku's dick, and the former finds himself unable to stop from burying his cock deep inside you and pumping your womb with thick creamy spurts. “fuuuuuck,” he moans with a shudder, shutting his eyes tight. after a moment to catch his breath, he shortly pulls out of you, watching how his cum oozed from your pussy; your perseverance earns a slap to your ass from him.

“gentlemanly,” izuku comments dryly on how his friend was already limp so fast, as well as how he had came before you during penetration, and did not give you a second orgasm. the judgment came from a place like he wasn’t face fucking you relentlessly.

katuski only rolls his eyes, one arm resting on his stomach as he sprawled himself out on the bed, watching you two continue. “i've been busy,” he shrugs. “i haven't gotten some in a bit. plus, i already made her cum earlier.”

with a sigh, izuku looks down at you, your jaw obviously beginning to ache. “that's why he doesn't have a girlfriend,” he murmured, yet your brain was too busy melting out of your ears to show any sort of response.

taking in your disheveled appearance — bites and handprints left all over you from katsuki, not to mention saliva, pre-cum, sweat, and tears coating your cheeks and neck — izuku finally takes pity, letting you off of him and allowing you the chance to actually get some oxygen to your brain. a soothing touch combs through your hair as you cough and sniffle, having never been treated so roughly before during sex.

“my poor baby,” he coos and you pout as he takes you into his arms, the tip of his dick poking against your well-used folds as you rest on his lap. “katsuki’s so mean, huh?”

“you made him be mean to me,” you huff, wiping your tears against his shoulder, all while your hips absentmindedly grind against him.

a hand settles on your waist, while the other rubs your back in comfort, laughing at your words. “would you believe me if i said that’s just how he is?”

you nod quietly, murmuring. “he’s scary…”

before you know it, the teasing tip of izuku’s shaft sliding along your slit had slipped in due to the slick mix of fluids between your bodies. a breathless gasp leaves your lips as you feel the swollen head nestle snugly along your cervix.

“you’re not gonna break my stuff anymore, right baby?” he asks with a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes not leaving where the two of you were connected, watching as katsuki’s cum inside you frothed around the base of his dick. “gonna be good for me so i don’t have to ask katsuki for anything anymore, right?”

“m-mhm…”

“promise?”

“yes, yeah…”

he smiles, pressing a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips. “i love you, baby.”

“i love you too…” you return, your pussy fluttering around him at his words.

katsuki, still lying on the bed and now checking his phone, mutters an “ew,” under his breath, undermining the moment.

izuku looks past you to furrow his brow at his friend. “if you’re done, you can leave.”

“i’m just a piece of meat to you…” katsuki says with a dramatic sigh, before searching the floor for his discarded clothes to put back on. “i’m eating whatever shit you got in your fridge.”

as katsuki leaves the bedroom, izuku rolls his eyes before flicking them up to yours, studying your dazed expression. leaning back on the bed, he proceeds to take his sweat-drenched shirt off at last. “you wanna take what you need, honey?” he asks gently, seeing how antsy you are.

you nod again, having been feverish upon feeling every twitch of his dick inside your walls. slowly, you lift up your hips before slamming them back down against his, effectively riding him. you had been so close to your second high before katsuki rudely deprived you of it with his early orgasm, and you could feel it lingering within you.

“careful,” izuku says with a breathlessly laugh, thumb wiping away the drool dribbling down your chin. “don’t tire yourself out so fast…”

“m’ okay,” you mumble before letting out a moan, eyes shutting tight when you angle yourself to hit that spot.

finding purchase on your hips, izuku’s hands help guide you up and down his length, as well maintain the pace. “who feels better, baby— me or katsuki?” he asks, goosebumps prickling your arms as his breath tickles your ear.

“you,” you reply immediately, and his heart melts at just how soft and clingy you were for him.

“yeah?” his head dips in between your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and swirling his tongue around the pebbled flesh. “you’re such a good girl; i’m sorry for being so mean to you,” he whispers against your skin, before placing an open-mouthed kiss. “it’s just because i love you, you know that right?”

your lips purse as you squirm under his ministrations, a familiar coil-like sensation threatening to snap soon. “i-i know— m’ gonna cum, izu…”

“me too,” he mumbles, now bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, a thumb hurriedly reaching down to rub your clit to help send you over the edge once more.

as pleasure finally comes crashing down on the two of you, his lips captured yours in a kiss, sucking on your tongue with a low groan as your walls milked every last drop of his release.

covered in a sheen of sweat, your bodies trembled as you rode out the aftershocks together, chests rising and falling against each other as you continued to kiss gently. finally, izuku pulls away to catch his breath, and you collapse on top of him, listening to the pitter-patter of his heart as you do the same, feeling almost uncomfortable with the loads of two men inside you.

a calm and intimate silence falls between you two, before the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen cuts through it, a sound you both laugh at as you piece together that katsuki was planning on doing some cooking.

“do you think he’ll make anything for us?” izuku asks, clearing his throat when his voice cracks with rawness.

you shake your head, sighing. “no— he’s selfish.”

izuku laughs gently, placing a kiss against your hairline. “i’ll uber something if he doesn’t. now, let’s go take a bath together, hm? gotta give my pretty girl her reward for taking her lecture so well too.”

your nose scrunches at the proposition, and you plop a pillow on his face, earning you a giggle from him. “ugh, no. if i have any more dick, i'm gonna throw up.”

[coolgirlexe]

Academic rivals to lovers with Izuku

Content & warnings: f!reader, collage!au, enemies to lovers, reader is kinda an ass, eventual smut, blowjobs, cowgirl, 18+, minors DNI

IB: @mamashima, their fic is super good go check it out!!!

WC: 8.1k

He swears he’s a good person.

No really, he is! He’ll always pay for the person in front of him if they don’t have enough money. He gives up his seat on buses for old ladies. He helps carry heavy bags for the old lady that lives above him.

He swears it, he’s a good person!

But something about you…

The way you cut him off during class when he’s answering a question, only to offer something better. The way you glare at him when he scored higher than you in a test. The not-so-subtle scoff at his analysis of Gregor’s character in The Metamorphosis. God, there’s only so much a man can take before having to wring his hands underneath his desk to keep himself from being rash.

He hasent even done anything to warrant this behaviour from you.

Not that he can think it anyways.

It's just the way it’s always been since he started collage two years ago. Always in the same classes, always taking the same courses, and always the same snide behaviour from you. And Izuku would be lying if he said he hadn't started giving it back.

You couldn’t blame him! After the first three months, he really couldn’t keep quiet anymore. He had even tried to sort things out!

“Have I done something to offend you?” He asked one day, just when class had ended.

He had packed his stuff into his red backpack as fast as he could, trying and catch you before you left.

You always sat in the same place, four rows up, three seats to the right. Out of morbid curiosity, he had once decided to sit there to see what would happen. The only thing that happened was Izuku going home with a sore ankle.

You looked up at him with an indifferent expression, hair falling slightly into your face as you shoved your remaining notebook into your shoulder bag.

“Other than your usual annoying muttering while I’m trying to concentrate?”

Izuku felt the tips of his ears go pink. Fuck, you had heard that?

He always sat two rows behind you. He couldn’t imagine what he had put the poor people who sat next to him through.

“Well… yes, I guess. Apart from that." Izuku stumbled over his words slightly, trying his best to not to offend you. "I don’t think the way you’ve been acting towards me is warranted. You couldn’t just told me to stop”

You just rolled you eyes and threw your bag over your shoulder.

“You’re not special enough for me to pay attention to you enough to be mean. If you’re that sensitive, maybe go somewhere else.” And with that you had barged past him and swung open the double doors of the lecture the store.

Izuku scoffed.

Actually scoffed.

Who the fuck do you think you were?

He had been nothing but nice to you. He had even tried to sort out whatever weird grudge you held against him, and this is the treatment he got?

That was just over a year ago, and Izuku isn’t even trying to hide his distain for you. Instead, there seems to be an unspoken competition between the two of you.

Actually, no.

Unspoken would imply that the two of you had the decency to be subtle about it.

You did not.

It was in the way you raised your hand two seconds after his, fingers already curled around your pen like you’d been waiting for him to make a mistake. It was in the way Izuku no longer stumbled over his words when correcting you, no longer softened his tone when offering an alternative interpretation, no longer tried to make himself smaller just because your eyes narrowed every time he spoke.

And it was the way you smiled when he challenged you.

A smile that made his jaw tighten and his stomach twist in the most infuriating way.

Because you liked it.

You liked it when he pushed back, liked it when he stopped being polite. You liked it when he fin ally matched your energy instead of blinking down at you with those stupid, earnest eyes.

And he could tell. That sparkle in your eye the first time he had finally snapped back and bit too harshly at your counter argument in debate was more than enough to confirm it.

And God, he hated it.

He hated that you knew exactly where it hit him to make him snap. You knew which buttons to push to rile him up. And he hated how he knew that you bit the inside of your cheek when a lecturer praises his answer, and that your foot tapped under the desk whenever he finished his essays before you did.

But the thing he hated the most is that part of him didn't hate it.

That he actually looked for it.

Every stupid, exhausting day.

He swears he's a good person.

But when it comes to you, Izuku Midoriya is starting to think he may be something else entirely.

He couldn't believe it.

He actually couldn't fucking believe it.

One semester. That's it. He just had one more semester before graduation. One semester before he could get his degree, pack a stupidly overfilled suitcase and go on the boys' trip he and Kacchan, Kirishima, Kaminari and the others had been planning since second year.

One year until he was finally free.

And somehow, his Literary Theory and Criticisms class had managed to put his entire graduating grade in the hands of a group project.

Izuku fucking hated group projects.

He was always, somehow, stuck with the most useless people on earth. People who didn’t do jack shit until the final twelve hours and submitted AI-written paragraphs with fake references and acted shocked when he called them out on it. People who ghosted the group chat for three weeks, then popped up the night before the presentation with a “hey guys, what slide am I doing?” like Izuku hadn't stayed up for the past three days to finish their part.

So really, he should be relieved.

Because at least this year, he wouldn't have to worry about someone being incompetent.

No, apparently, this year he had been given something much worse.

The email sat open on his laptop screen, the words typed neatly like they weren't mocking him.

For the final critical analysis project, the following pairs have been assigned:

Midoriya Izuku...

His eyes dragged down.

...and you.

Izuku just stared. The slowly leaned back in his chair and pressed both palms over his eyes.

"No," he moaned into his hands. "No, no, no, no."

From across the kitchen table, Kirishima looked up from the protein shake he was making. "What?"

Izuku dragged his hands down his face until his cheeks pulled down with them. "I got paired up with her."

Kaminari, lying upside down on the sofa, immediately lifted his head. "You mean that bitch?"

"Don't call woman bitches." Midoriya immediately snapped.

Even though he agreed. She was a bitch.

Kaminari raised his hands in mock surrender.

Kirishima’s brows furrowed. “Wait, is this the girl who corrected your essay structure in front of the whole seminar?”

“She didn’t correct my essay structure,” Izuku said quickly, sitting up straighter. “She made a reductive comment about the limitations of my argument, which was only technically fair because we were discussing post-structuralist criticism and I hadn’t yet addressed- ”

Kaminari groaned loudly. “Bro, you’re doing the muttering thing.”

Izuku stopped. Then, with great effort, he inhaled through his nose and looked back at the screen.

You.

Of course it had to be you.

Out of everyone in the class, everyone in the department, every single student who had ever dragged themselves into that lecture hall at nine in the morning, it had to be you.

The universe had a sense of humour, apparently. And a cruel one at that.

A notification lit up his screen.

A new email.

From you.

For one ridiculous, hopeful second, he wondered if maybe you were emailing the lecturer. Maybe you had decided, for once in your life, to be reasonable. Maybe you were also horrified enough by the pairing to ask for a switch.

He opened it.

Subject: Final Project

Midoriya,

I assume you’ve seen the pairing. I don’t like this any more than you do, but I’m not risking my grade over personal issues. We should meet tomorrow after the seminar to divide the work properly.

Don’t be late.

Izuku stared at the email. Them slowly, very slowly, he smiled.

It's noy like he found it funny, but something in him had snapped so quickly he could almost hear it.

Kirishima, chopping his banana, squinted at him. “You good?”

“No,” Izuku said pleasantly. “But I’m going to be.”

Don’t worry. Unlike some people, I know how to work professionally. Tomorrow after the seminar is fine.

He paused, had a think, then added:

Try not to arrive with an attitude. It slows down productivity.

He sent it.

Yeah, yeah, it was immature. He knows. But any comment about your attitude always seemed to hit a nerve. So sue him for being crafty.

Your response came seconds later, as if you were ready for his witty retort:

If my attitude is capable of slowing down your productivity, then your productivity was not very strong to begin with.

See you tomorrow.

God, he hated you so fucking much.

He was late.

Of course he was.

Granted, it was only four minutes, but four minutes and counting!

He had to be doing it on purpose.

You sat alone at the small table in the corner of the library cafe, your laptop open and notebook already filled with three possible topics they could choose from.

Your eye kept flickering to the time on the bottom right corner of your laptop.

Five minutes.

Unbelievable.

After all that talk about productivity, after that insufferably polite little email about working professionally, after having the nerve to tell you not to arrive with an attitude, Midoriya Izuku had the audacity to be late.

You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms. You were not going to let him get under your skin within the first five minutes of this project.

Six minutes.

The library doors opened with a soft mechanical hiss, and there he was.

Running.

Like, actually running.

God, was he ever not embarrassing himself.

His red backpack was slung over one shoulder, one hand gripping the strap, the other pushing back his messy curls out of his face as he scanned the room.

His hair was damp, but not in a soaking wet way; Just damp enough that the dark green curls stuck slightly to his forehead and the sides of his neck. His cheeks were flushed from exertion, breath coming just a little too hard as he spotted you and immediately made his way over.

And for once he didn't sport his usual oversized hoodie. No, this time he had shown up in a fitted black gym shirt.

And holy shit.

Izuku Midoriya was fucking ripped.

Not bodybuilder huge or anything like that, but toned. Strong in a way that, actually, made sense once you saw it because he had never been weak. She had once saw him carry four full shopping bags and a crate of water for this old lady that seemed to live near him. Not that she was paying attention to that or anything.

There were freckles on his arms.

"I'm sorry," he said, slightly breathless as he dropped into the chair opposite. "Training ran over."

"Does it look like I care?"

He huffed a laugh, pushing his curls back again. His arms flexed as he did it.

"By six minutes."

"It could've been sixty. You're still late."

He leaned back in his chair, still flushed, still breathing a little unevenly, and huffed.

"Whatever, lets just start."

You cleared your throat and turned your laptop towards him.

“I’ve already made an outline.”

“Of course you have.”

“I knew you'd be late so I thought i'd save us some time.”

“I apologised.”

"Yeah, I remember."

You turned you book towards him for him to take a look at the titles you had chosen. He leaned forwards, forearms flexing under his weight and you tried your best not to stare.

He pushed your notebook away.

"I have one."

"Is it one of mine?"

"No."

You rolled your eyes and flopped back in your chair.

"Enlighten me."

He pulled your notebook back to himself and leaned down to scribble on it, before turning it over and sliding it over to you.

You read it and didn't have to think.

"No"

His brows furrowed. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“I did. I thought about it and then I rejected it.”

“You rejected it in less than two seconds.”

“Yeah i’m efficient like that,”

Midoriya exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand through his hair. He looked annoyed, which was satisfying. Then he leaned forward, which was less satisfying, because it made his shoulders shift under that stupid black gym shirt again.

"Why the fuck do you have a problem with everything I do?"

"It's not my fault you have shitty ideas."

"What about this is shitty?" He exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air.

"Misread Woman? It sounds like a podcast episode."

"Only when you say it like that!"

"It dosent matter how you say it."

"Holy shit." He let out a humourless laugh, before tapping the page. “The title works because it’s simple, but it still holds the whole argument. Misread Women establishes the core issue. Then the subtitle, which you oh so conveniently left out, gives us the critical framework of the actual argument”

He circled the subtitle: Narrative Voice, Psychological Conflict, and Feminist Criticism

“Yeah, but it's too obvious. It makes us sound like we already know what we’re going to argue before we’ve actually argued it.”

“We do know what we’re arguing.”

“We know the direction. That’s not the same thing.”

Midoriya stared at you for a second.

Then, annoyingly, his expression shifted.

Not into irritation like you were expecting. It was interest.

It was the same look he got during seminars, when someone said something worth pulling apart. Like he’d forgotten he was supposed to dislike you because the argument had become more important than his pride.

“So,” he said slowly, “you think the title overstates the conclusion.”

“I think it risks flattening the analysis.”

His pen paused.

You could see him considering it. Actually considering it. Not dismissing you, not preparing a comeback.

It was deeply inconvenient when Midoriya was intelligent in a way that wasn’t performative.

“Fine,” he said at last. “What would you change?”

You paused for a minute before replying.

“I’d make it less like a slogan and more like an argument.”

You grab the book back off of him and write a new sentence below his while reading it out loud.

“Misread Women: Narrative Voice, Psychological Conflict, and the Gendered Politics of Interpretation.”

Midoriya looked down at it, his eyes moving across the sentence. He rubbed his jaw.

"That's...better."

“Sorry?”

“It’s better.”

“No, no.” You cupped a hand around your ear. “Say that again.”

Midoriya’s face flattened. “Don’t be childish.”

“Say, ‘You were right.’”

“I’m not saying that.”

"Say it?"

"Why? You have a praise kink or something?"

Your face dropped and you glared at him. "Fuck off."

His eyes flickered across your face, and a grin stretched across his face.

"Oh my God, you do!" He sounded so delighted it made her ears redden.

"No I don't, fuck off!" You yelled, a little louder than intended.

He burst out laughing at your outburst, to your horror. Not one of those little under-the-breath laughs he did when he thought you said something clever.

God, you wanted to kill him.

You hated how his eyes crinkled at the corners and how his shoulders shook slightly and how, for a second, he didn’t look like the most insufferable man in your degree.

Fuck him.

Fuck him to hell.

Fuck him.

Fuck...him?

You looked back at your laptop. Immediately.

“I’m deleting the whole document.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. We can both fail.”

“You care too much to fail.”

“I might let it slid this time."

"That's beneath you."

"You're beneath me."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You're so mature."

"Only with you."

"God Midoriya, do you ever stop?”

"Oh I'm sorry, who's the one that started this?"

That shut you up.

"Whatever," You shut your laptop with more force than necessary. "we have a title."

"And half an introduction." he cut in.

"A weak half."

His brow twitched. "How is it weak."

"I don't know, it seems too personal. We're writing from the reader's perspective, remember?"

"That's cause you always try not to sound like yourself when you're writing."

You opened your mouth, then shut it again.

Cause where the hell did he get off on saying something like that?

You looked up at him with a strange look, and his smile faded slightly.

“I just mean,” he said, voice a little flatter, “you’re overcorrecting. You’re trying to sound detached when your actual argument works better because you’re clearly invested in it.”

"You think I don't sound invested?”

“You always sound invested.”

His eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Was that an insult?”

He paused. “Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“I was making sure it hurt correctly.”

“It didn’t.”

“Then I’ll try harder next time.”

You huffed.

For a few seconds, neither of you moved to pack away your things. The document was still open on his laptop, cursor blinking at the end of a sentence neither of you had finished. The café had started to thin out around you, the noise settling into the low, tired hum of late afternoon.

Then someone at the counter called out, “Just so you know, we’re closing in ten sorry, staff training.”

You looked back at your laptop.

Brilliant.

Absolutely fucking brilliant.

You had finally reached the point where the two of you were almost working like normal people, and now this.

Midoriya was already checking the time.

“We could move to the main library.”

You gave him a look. “At this time?”

He grimaced.

Exactly.

The main library during final semester was less of a study space and more of a social experiment in human suffering. Every table and plug socket would be full.

“My apartment’s ten minutes away.”

You blinked.

He shrugged, like it was the most normal suggestion in the world. “My roommates are out so we can work in the kitchen.”

You considered it.

Not for very long.

It wasn’t that deep. It was a group project. People went to each other’s flats all the time. That was literally what university was: bad deadlines, borrowed chargers, and studying in kitchens.

“Fine.” You slipped your laptop into your bag. “Lead the way.”

He stared at you for a second.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You look surprised.”

“I just thought you’d argue more.”

“I can, if you’re feeling left out.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? I can call you manipulative and annoying if that would help.”

He stood, grabbing his bag. “You already do that for free.”

"I know."

He looked at you then, and for some reason, that made the corner of your mouth lift before you could stop it.

His eyes flickered down to it.

Then away.

Had you imagined it?

His apartment was close to campus, tucked above a row of shops with a narrow doorway and a staircase that smelled faintly like rain and takeaway food. Student housing, clearly, but not awful.

Midoriya pushed the door open after fiddling with the key for half a second.

“Sorry if it’s messy.”

You stepped inside and looked around.

It was not messy.

Izuku knew it wasn’t messy.

He had, in fact, spent an embarrassing amount of the walk silently praying that Kacchan’s stress-cleaning had carried over into the kitchen that morning. Which it had. Mostly. The counters were clear, the sofa didn’t have laundry on it, and there were only two mugs in the sink instead of the usual five.

A miracle, really.

Still, the apology had come out automatically.

Izuku pointed down the hall. “Kitchen’s this way.”

The kitchen-living room was warm from the radiator under the window. Kaminari’s controller was abandoned on the sofa. One of Kirishima’s protein tubs sat on the counter despite the fact that Izuku had asked him, at least twice, not to leave it there. There were photos stuck to the fridge with mismatched magnets, a hoodie thrown over the armchair, and a stack of books on the coffee table that Izuku had been meaning to take back to his room for three days.

our gaze caught on the boxing gloves hanging off the back of the chair.

“You box?”

Izuku blinked. “A little.”

“You?”

He frowned. “Why did you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I just told you I’m secretly a horse girl.”

Your mouth twitched. “I just didn't expect it from you.”

"What did you expect?"

You were silent for a minute. "I don't know".

He didn't know what to make of that.

“Okay, well,” he said, because standing there letting you perceive his apartment was starting to feel weirdly intimate. “I’m gonna change a sec. Make yourself comfortable.”

He went into his room, tugging his gym shirt over his head and throwing it into the laundry basket. The apartment was too warm after walking back, and he was still slightly overheated from training anyway, so he pulled on a loose black tank and a pair of basketball shorts.

When he walked back in to the kitchen, he almost stilled.

You had taken your hoodie off. It was thrown over the back of the chair and underneath, you were wearing a fitted tank top. Just a plain one. Nothing that should have made his brain stutter in his skull the way it did.

But it clung to you. The kind of fitted that didn’t reveal too much, not really, but suggested enough that his imagination did the rest before he could stop it. Your shoulders were bare. Your collarbones caught the warm kitchen light. The fabric curved with your waist, your chest, the soft line of your stomach when you leaned over the table to pull your laptop from your bag.

Izuku stared.

He knew you were pretty.

Obviously he knew.

He wasn’t blind.

He had known from the first week of first year, actually, when you had walked into a seminar ten minutes late, hair slightly windblown, eyes bored and sharp and annoyingly beautiful. He had thought, for one brief and peaceful second, that you were gorgeous.

And then you opened your mouth.

After that, it had been easier to focus on how irritating you were.

But right now, with you standing in his kitchen in that tank top, fanning yourself lightly with one of his notebooks because the radiator had made the whole room stupidly warm, hair falling into your face, hoop earrings gleaning in the overhead light, hate became a very complicated thing.

A thing that sat low in his stomach and curled hot.

You looked up.

Caught him.

Izuku’s soul left his body.

“What?”

His mouth opened.

“You’re hot,” he said.

You blinked.

Fuck. 

Shit.

“I mean-” He wanted to die. Immediately. “ It’s hot. The flat. It’s hot in here.”

Your eyebrow rose.

Slowly.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s why I took my hoodie off.”

“Right.”

“Were you confused?”

“No.”

“You looked confused.”

“I was thinking.”

“That must be difficult for you.”

“Not usually.”

You stared at him for a second.

Then your mouth twitched.

And Izuku, who had survived exams, deadlines, Kacchan’s temper, and Kaminari nearly setting the toaster on fire, almost died because you nearly smiled at him in his kitchen while looking so fucking sexy.

He cleared his throat and moved to the sink.

“Tea?”

He didn’t wait for you to reply before turning the kettle on.

Behind him, you sat down at the table. He could hear your laptop opening, the soft zip of your bag, the small click of your pen. 

He set the mug beside you and sat down across from you, opening his own laptop like it could save him.

“So how are you gonna make your shitty title a piece of art?” you said.

“Can you give me thirty seconds before insulting my work?”

“No.”

“Of course not.”

“You’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“For improving you.”

He looked up.

You were looking at the document, face completely composed, like you hadn’t just said something designed to start a fight.

Izuku’s fingers tightened around the edge of his laptop.

“Improving me?”

“Academically.”

“Right.”

Your eyes flicked to his.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

“I’m just wondering when your superiority complex developed.”

You smiled. “Probably around the time I realised I was usually right.”

“You’re not usually right.”

“I am around you.”

He laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “That is such bullshit.”

Your brows lifted.

There it was.

The shift.

He saw it happen. The exact second your posture changed, spine straightening, chin tilting, eyes sharpening like you had been waiting for him to give you a reason.

“What’s bullshit?”

“You acting like you’ve carried every argument we’ve ever had.”

“I have.”

“You interrupt me in seminars just to rephrase what I was already saying.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly. “That is not true.”

“It is.”

“You make half a point and then trail off into five unnecessary tangents.”

“Because I’m building context.”

“You’re just hiding behind context.”

“And you hide behind being mean.”

Silence.

Your expression changed.

“I don’t hide behind being mean.” you spat, gritting your teeth.

He should have remembered that you were in his apartment, that this was supposed to be a project meeting, that the title document was still open and the introduction still needed work.

Instead of doing the mature thing, he said, “Yeah, you do.”

Your laugh was short and humourless. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“From me?”

“Yes, from you.”

“What do I hide behind?”

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

His eyes dropped.

He forced them back to your face.

“You hide behind being nice.”

Izuku stared at you.

For some reason, that was worse than any insult you had ever thrown at him.

“I’m not hiding behind being nice.”

“You absolutely are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You act like you’re above it all because you hold doors open and smile at lecturers and say everything in that polite little voice like it makes you better than everyone else.”

His jaw tightened. “That is not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Then why do you look so angry?”

“Because you don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” He raised his voice this time.

“I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t know me.”

You scoffed. “And you know me?”

“I know enough.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know you can’t stand not being the smartest person in the room.”

Your eyes flashed. “And you can?”

“At least I don’t make it everyone else’s problem.”

“No, you just mutter under your breath until someone praises you for being thoughtful.”

Izuku stood.

He didn’t mean to.

The chair scraped harshly against the floor behind him.

You stood too.

Because you never let him have the height advantage for more than half a second. It didn’t matter that you were shorter than him, you made up for it in spite.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, voice low.

“I have two years of evidence.”

“Evidence?” He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “You mean two years of you deciding you hated me before I even did anything.”

“I didn’t decide anything.”

“You absolutely did.”

“You annoyed me.”

“Why? I didn’t fucking do anything. You just hated me because I was competition.”

You stepped around the table slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not flattering myself. I’m right.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You couldn’t stand that I was good.”

You glared at him, and something hot and ugly twisted in his chest, not quite satisfaction, not quite guilt.

Your voice dropped. “I couldn’t stand that you acted like you didn’t know you were good.”

Izuku went still.

You laughed again, quieter this time.

“That’s what pissed me off. You’d sit there, muttering under your breath, writing half the essay in your head before anyone else had even opened the text, then look shocked when the lecturer praised you. Like you were so humble. Like you just stumbled into being brilliant by accident.”

His throat tightened.

“I don’t act like that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do. And everyone buys it. The sweet, thoughtful, harmless Midoriya act.” You mocked.

“It’s not an act.”

“Then what is it?”

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

He didn’t know when they had moved closer.

He just knew they were no longer on opposite sides of the table.

The space between them had narrowed to almost nothing, both of them standing near the edge of the kitchen, laptop screens glowing uselessly behind them.

“What do you want from me?” he snapped.

You blinked. “What?”

“You keep doing this. You keep pushing and pushing and pushing, and then when I push back, you act like I’m the problem.”

“Because you are.”

“No.” He stepped closer. “You wanted me to be the problem.”

Your breath caught.

His pulse kicked hard. God, what was even happening? He was breathing hard, he could practically feel the blood pumping around his body. He was so angry. So fucking angry seeing you stand their in his kitchen and blame him for your shitty internal issues. He didn’t know if he wanted to throw you out or pull you closer and shut you up in the exact way you needed to be shut up.

“You wanted me to snap at you,” he said, voice lower now. “You wanted me to stop being polite. You wanted something to fight with.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t step back.

“And what about you?” you asked. “You want me nice?”

“No.”

The answer came too fast.

Your lips parted slightly.

Izuku’s gaze dropped. Then he looked back at your eyes, and the anger was still there, but so was something else now. Something worse. Something that had been building underneath every argument, every correction, every too-long stare across seminar tables.

“No,” he said again, quieter. “I don’t want you nice.”

The radiator clicked under the window.

Somewhere outside, a car passed over wet pavement.

You were close enough now that he could see your breathing shift. Close enough that if he lifted his hand, he could touch your waist. Close enough that all the stupid, inappropriate thoughts he had been trying to kill since you first started pushing him found new life.

You looked up at him.

Still angry.

“What do you want, then?”

Izuku should have laughed it off. He should have stepped back. He should have said, To finish the project. Instead, his eyes moved over your face again. Your mouth. Your jaw. The strap of your tank top against your shoulder.

He had always known you were gorgeous, even when you were glaring at him. Especially then, maybe.

But now the thought was no longer quiet or manageable. It was right there, wanting and dangerously close to being said out loud.

He swallowed.

“You really want me to answer that?”

Your expression didn’t change.

But your voice did.

Just slightly.

“Try me.”

Something in him snapped.

Not all the way.

Just enough.

He leaned in a fraction, close enough that the words did not need to be loud.

“I want you to stop looking at me like that unless you’re going to do something about it.”

Your breath caught again, and this time there was no hiding it.

For one long second, neither of them moved.

Then your eyes flicked to his mouth.

His hands were still at his sides, clenched so tightly his knuckles ached, because if he touched you without knowing you wanted it, he would never forgive himself.

But then you leaned forwards slightly.

His voice came out rougher than he intended. 

“Say something smart.”

Your gaze lifted back to his.

“What?”

He tilted his head, jaw tight, control hanging by a thread.

“Come on,” he said. “You always have something to say.”

Your eyes flashed.

There you were.

That look. The one that made him want to argue with you until the whole world disappeared. The one that made him want to shut you up in ways he absolutely should not be thinking about while the project document was open behind him.

You smiled. “Maybe I’m waiting to see if you’re better at this than you are at introductions.”

Then he laughed once under his breath.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

“No,” you said.

His eyes dropped to your mouth again.

“Good.”

Izuku had no clue how he got here. Honestly. Whenever he tried to think back to it the only thing he can think about is how it felt to have your mouth stuffed full of him.

"Oh fuck- shit just like that."

He threw his head back and tangled his fingered into your hair. He was having a hard time getting his legs to carry his weight, trying his best to put as much of it on the kitchen table he was leaning against.

"Oh God-" He moaned, and he had half the mind to feel embarrassed about the sounds he was making, but the view. Oh fuck, the view.

Something about seeing you on your knees for him, mouth full of his dick, taking it so well and not able to say anything; all of those times he had beat you at a test, all the times he came out on top, nothing compared to this. He felt so fucking high, the wet, filthy sounds of your mouth desperately taking him.

"Doin' so good." He murmured. "Such a good girl."

You pulled back, your mouth connecting with his cock through a string of split before it split. You looked up at him slightly annoyed. "So you really never stop muttering, huh?"

God, he fucking hates you.

But seeing you like that on your knees...

He clicked his tongue before shoving your head back down into him. You choked slightly at the force, tears prickling on the outsides of your eyes. He used his thumb to brush them away.

"I like you better like this." He said, slightly breathless and you continued to work on him. "So full of me you cant use that smart mouth of yours."

You whimpered slightly, and his eyes fluttered shut for second. He had to be dreaming, that was the only way to explain this. Only way to explain the this intense wet heat enveloping his dick and the tight knot in the bottom of his gut begging to be snapped.

God, he never wanted to wake up.

There were pornographic sounds filling the room, and at the back of his mind he was faintly aware that it was him making those noises. Hands tightening on the strands of your hair weaved through your fingers caused you to tilt your head back, taking even more of him and making a sound that vibrated through him right to his core.

"Shit-," He whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he pushed your head even deeper. He felt your tongue swirl at the base of him and that was all it took to throw him over the edge. He came with such vigoure it but all the hand jobs he ever gave himself to shame. He spluttered, hands coming off of you to grip the table behind him to support the weight his legs could no longer support.

When he finished, he opened his eyes to find his leg shaking slightly and you splayed on the floor, one knee bent and hair slightly mussed from his hands. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand as you eyed the ropes of white that he had left on the floor.

You looked up at him then, and to his horror, you had an amused look on your face. You muttered something under your breath.

His eyes narrowed.

“What did you say?”

You shrugged, far too casual. “Nothing.”

“No.” He said too quickly. “Say it again.”

“I said…” You tilted your head, looking up at him through your lashes with that same infuriating little smile. “For someone who talks so much, you’re surprisingly quick when it matters.”

Izuku felt it happen in his chest first.

A sharp, hot pull of humiliation.

He bent down and picked you up with such ease that you yelped, grabbing onto him like you didn't expect it. He sat you down on his kitchen table, notebooks and laptop forgotten. He put both his palms on your thighs, teasing the hem of your skirt with his thumb,

"Midoriya-"

"Oh, now you want to say my name properly?"

You swollowed.

"What? You had a lot to say a second ago?"

His hand crept further up until he reached your panties. He palmed your pussy, and it took everything in you to stop yourself from jolting. He took his time, teasing you through the fabric, feeling the pooled wetness before slipping his fingers in.

Your breath hitches, but you didn't break eye contact with him. You wouldn't be the one to lose. Hus fingers played with the wetness between your folds, and when he slipped a finger in you couldn't help the way your thighs pressed together on instinct.

Midoriya smiled, and used that opportunity to slide another in. His other hand made its way to the small of your back, his palm hot and the calloses from boxing felt so good against the sweat coating your body. His fingers start moving and you feel like you're floating. You back arched slightly and he smirks.

"Still nothing smart to say?"

And because you couldn't help yourself, you say;

"Try not to disappoint me a second time."

The a guttural moan escapes you and your back arches as he hits that sweet spot inside of you.

"Found it."

That's when he starts the assault. He slips in a third and pumps them into you at such a pace you feel your eyes rolling back.

His mouth finds yours somewhere in this, his tongue curling against yours as he tried to take the moans right from your mouth into him.

His thumb finds your clit, and he massages it in tight circles, making another series of moans escape you.

"You're doing so good for me, baby." he whispered into your ear, the breath tickling you. "So fucking good. Such a good girl."

You moan and kiss him greedily, you hips riding his fingers, needing more, needing it faster, You could feel the knot start to form in your gut.

Just when it starts to feel good, he pulls away.

You open your eyes annoyed, glaring at him as he steps back with a shit-eating grin.

"What?" You snap.

"Just enjoying the view." he responded casually, before adding. "Also maybe we wanna do this somewhere other than where we eat."

You looked around, suddenly remembering you were in the kitchen. When you looked back at him, he was already living you by your thighs and walking you to his room.

Fuck, he was so attractive like this. His green curls stuck to him forehead from sweat, pupils slightly blown.

He kicked the door shut behind him before throwing you onto his bed. You vaguely registered the All Might merch in his room, before your eyes were drawn to his shirt being taken off.

Holy fuck.

You had seen the arms. The shoulders. The unfair way his shirts had started fitting him since the beginning of the year.

But seeing it like this was different.

Seeing him standing over you, chest rising and falling, skin flushed, hair messy, eyes dark and fixed on you like you were the only thing in the room worth looking at.

He noticed you looking.

"Staring?"

"Just looking for flaws."

He grinned at you like there was no other place he'd rather be. You wanted to kiss it right off of him.

He leaned one knee onto the bed, mattress dipping under his weight. “Find any?”

You couldn't.

His grin widened.

You hated him.

You hated him so much you reached up, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pulled him down to you.

You kissed him hard and desperate, and arched into him without meaning to, and his grip tightened. He made a sound against your mouth, low and rough, and something about it made you feel insane.

“Midoriya,” you breathed.

He pulled back.

Only slightly.

His eyes searched your face immediately, the heat in them interrupted by something softer.

“You okay?”

The question hit you harder than it should have.

Because of course.

Of course he would stop.

Even like this, with his hair ruined and his mouth swollen and his hands on you like he was seconds away from losing whatever control he had left, he still looked at you like your answer mattered more than anything else.

You blinked up at him.

Then scoffed, because sincerity was unbearable.

“If I wasn’t, you’d know.”

His mouth twitched. “That’s not an answer.”

You swallowed.

"I was going to tell you to hurry up."

Somewhere after, you found yourself on top. Clothes discarded somewhere on the floor and your legs on either side of his hips.

"Ohhhh fuckkkk-" He moaned as you rode him, bouncing on him and stabilising yourself by putting you hands on his chest. You arched your back as you sank back in, earning you a series of pathetic whimpers.

Midoriya watched you tits bounce like a drunk man, then watching the point he entered you. It was all too much, and he gripped you hips so hard he was sure i'd make a mark. He lifted you up and slammed you down, arching his back to meet you half way. guttural moan escaped both of you and the new depth you were able to reach.

"You're doing so good, baby." He moaned. "So fucking good for me. Does it feel good for you?"

"mhm." You hummed as you grinded into him, moving your hips.

"God, you're taking me so well." he muttered to himself.

That only made you ride harder, needing to feel him deeper inside of you. Him fingers found their way to your clit, making you're head spin and a moan rip out loud as your walls flutter and clench around him.

It didn't take you long to cum hard, the knot in your stomach bursting as light filled you vision and your toes clenched. You tightened around him, hearing him whimper as you finish and flop forward into hsi chest.

But he wasn't done.

Instead, he flipped you over into missionary, looking down at you with a glint in his eye, before pushing into you without warning.

You gasped at the burn, but you didnt have time to register it before hsi sacrred hands clamped around your waist and pounding in to you.

His cock speared into you with a filthy sound, stretching you wide around him as you sucked him into you evern when everything felt too much. Your eyes rolled back as you instinctibly tried to push him away, but that didn’t stop him.

He just kept pounding into you, your lips gripping onto him. The pressure mashed your clit into the underside of him, sending brutal sparks flying up your body and all the way back down into your toes.

"-too much!" You managed to groan.

"God, i love you like this." Midoriya brushed the hair out of your face to see you. Eyes rolled back, fucked out, and so drunk on his cock. "I wish I could do this everytime- fuck- you act up. Get you so stuffed full of me you forget how to speak. You like that? You like how I make you feel so good you can't even think?"

You couldn't even answer him. All that escaped when you tried was a high-pitched whine.

Izuku loses it.

He pounds into you even deeper. Deep, mean strokes that bottom you out with a wet slap. You cry out, ever thrust punching the air out of your lungs as his cock hots your cervix, stretching your gummy walls as he builds the coil inside of you tighter and tighter.

He keeps snapping his hips, hitting that sweet spot with a perfect angle into the spongy spot deep inside of you while his finger find their way to your clit. You move you hips too, grinding against him; meeting him half way, earning you a guttural groan from him.

"Gonna-" You moan. "I'm gonna-"

"Me too." He interrupts, his pace turning frantic as he finds his last few thrusts before snapping.

Your whole body convulses, walls clamping down around him and milking him as you moan loudly. He fucks you through it and messy gushes squirt out around him, making every thrust sloppier and filthier. You feel him shoot into the back of you, hitting your spot one last time.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, jusssttt like that." His voice breaks slightly. "Keep squeezing me, baby. Jut like that." His legs were shaking as he continued to come alone with you, fucking you through it, the deep thrusts shaking short cries from you as you wrapped your legs around him and rubbed against him with every thrust. "Such a good girl, so perfect and good for me. So beautiful, gonna fill you right up."

You clit sent aftershocks through your body as you started to come down from it, causing your legs to shake as pooling warmth trailed under you, soaking the sheets.

Midoriya collapsed over you a second later, breathing hard against your shoulder as the last of his control seemed to leave him all at once. His face was tucked against the curve of your neck, his curls damp against your skin, one arm braced beside your head like he still didn’t quite trust himself not to put too much weight on you.

You stared at the ceiling.

At the All Might poster above his desk.

At the corner of a textbook sticking out from under a hoodie.

God this fucking nerd had just fucked you to heaven and back in his embarrassingly nerdy bedroom and was now shaking slightly above you.

His breath brushed your neck.

“You okay?” he asked.

His voice was deep, as if he had just woken up.

You closed your eyes for a second.

“Don’t sound so proud of yourself.”

He huffed a laugh against your skin, breathless and disbelieving.

“I asked if you were okay.”

"Are you okay?"

"I asked first."

your mouth twitched.

His did too. You could feel it against your shoulder before he slowly lifted his head.

He looked at you like he was trying to prove something. Like he was still annoyed about the kitchen, about the title, about every single time you had corrected him in class and smiled like you knew exactly what you were doing. He looked young and stupidly pretty and far too pleased with himself.

You flicked his head. "Get off me."

He laughed, but he moved, rolling onto his side beside you instead of fully away. One arm stayed loosely across your waist, like he had forgotten it was there.

Or like he had decided not to move it until you made him.

You suddenly realised you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

He noticed too.

"That good, huh?"

That woke you up.

"Fuck off." You spat, sitting up to leave.

He just laughed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you back into bed with him and hugging you against his chest.

"Kidding," He added. "Stay."

And you did.

Not because he asked nicely.

Not because his arms were warm, or because his chest was solid against your back, or because his breath was still uneven where it brushed the side of your neck.

Definitely not because of that.

You stayed because you were tired.

Because the project.

Because, for once, Midoriya had shut up before ruining something.

And because when his hand settled carefully over your stomach, thumb moving in a slow, absent rhythm like he was still checking you were real, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to make him stop.

[soraphicdeactivated]

When you were very young, if you'd lost something, your mother always told you to retrace your steps.

Lost your favourite toy? Where did you last have it?

Can't find your sparkly pink bike helmet? Go backwards, we'll go to the park and see if you left it there.

But lost your mind in your twenties? Dickmatised by your boyfriend's best-friend? That would be hard to find a way back from.

You tried retracting your steps. Truly, you did. Rifling through memories like a madwoman, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything seemed to change. When being sure became something you didn't remember how to be and suddenly all you're left with is questions. Endless questions.

You know when it changed for Izuku. Could see it in his eyes the night this whole misalliance started. Staring at his best-friend balls deep inside of you like it's the most beautiful display of erotica he's ever seen. But you and Katsuki? That, you're not sure you'll ever really figure out.

You look for answers in every interaction, every delusional, harmless display of affection. That stupid, late night cigarette that kickstarted this entire thing.

"Katsuki?"

Spiky tufts of blonde hair, dishevelled by wind and the fact he's clearly been running his fingers through it, turn on you to reveal a moonlit face you'd grown to find a strange comfort in over the last 5 years.

"What're you doing out here? You don't even smoke."

The pack between your fingers trembles slightly in the wind. It's bitter enough to warrant a jacket, which you left inside, but just warm enough that the liquor swirling your stomach is enough to keep you from shivering. He eyes the open box, silent in his judgement and you roll your eyes, taking a cigarette between your lips as you fumble for a lighter.

"Quit judging. We don't all deal with our stress by punching the shit out of people for a living."

You're closer now, leaning over the railing beside him as you light the end over the high rise balcony of this fancy, new apartment. Yaoyorozu and Todoroki's house warming party. Though, really it's more Yaoyorozu's, and Todoroki disappeared half way through the night, probably to lock himself in the nearest guest room and avoid socialising altogether. Clearly, you and Katsuki can relate.

He eyes the cigarette between your lips, the way your sticky gloss leaves a pink residue around the paper as you pull it from your mouth and exhale a long puff of smoke. It's hard not to wonder what he's thinking when he looks like this— all cool and collected and mysterious. He turns back to the busy streets below before replying, "Deku buying you the cheap shit now?"

"Hm?" You hum, taking another drag as you study his face from this angle.

"The cigs." He motions toward the paper between your lips with his shoulder, eyes on you once more, "They're not the ones you like. You smoke camels."

You stop mid exhale for a moment, turning the steadily burning cig over in your fingers like you're only just realising that for yourself for the first time too. "Oh. I guess you're right." full exhale, "I picked up the nearest pack to the counter on the way here. Didn't really have a lot of time, you know how Izuku gets about being late."

He hums in acknowledgment at this, a shared experience for the two of you. Except, Katsuki's probably been dealing with Izuku's compulsion to being on time for a lot longer than you have.

There's a beat of silence. Comfortable silence. Cosy silence. The kind you don't often find when Bakugo's around. It leaves you time to study the side of his face, the jagged scar across his cheek that glows in the pale light of the moon and you notice how relaxed his jaw is for once. Just loose enough to soften around the edges, which makes him look almost inviting. You think he looks beautiful like this, mull over the urge to tell him. As friends, of course. You're not sure why you don't.

"You didn't answer my question." You tap the ash over the balcony, avoiding those crimson eyes and the almost definite scrutiny in them. That's just how Katsuki is. Always observing. Always to himself.

"What's that?"

"Why're you out here all alone?" You eye with something dangerously close to concern that makes his chest squeeze uncomfortably and for a moment he almost looks winded as he looks back down onto the amber flashing of the traffic lights down below.

"Not my kind of party."

"No party is your kind of party." you laugh, sweet and melodic, and he glares at you. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, "Not my fault you hate everyone." You sway, only really because the balls of your feet are really starting to hurt in these heels but he watches you like he's ready to catch you if you fall. You know he would, too.

"I don't hate everyone." The grumble he talks in isn't very convincing, which he can tell by the raise of your eyebrows, so he doubles down. "I don't hate you."

You scoff, but it holds no malice, just that light-hearted banter between old friends. "You tolerate me because you love Izuku."

A snort, "See, another person I don't hate."

"So the only two people you don't completely hate are me and your childhood best-friend?"

He pretends to think about it for a second before replying, "Your sister's okay." You really laugh at that— the hearty, unashamed kind— leaning over the railing like a madwoman, head thrown back against his bicep kind of laughter. Katsuki only scrunches his nose, "What's so funny?"

"The only other person you could think of was my sister?" You're wiping invisible tears from the corners of your eyes and he thinks you're being a little dramatic, but he doesn't point it out.

"She's. . .funny." He tries to defend, but it doesn't even sound convincing to his own ears and he cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. You only laugh harder, doubling over until your hands are on your knees and you're practically folded in halve over a joke he didn't even mean to make.

"You've met her once! And all she did all night was make fun of Izuku!"

He simply rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way the corners of his mouth threaten to pull up into a smile. "Yeah, okay, laugh it up. At least you won't catch me on the front page of a newspaper." Another giggle from you, one that has him wondering if it's always been so easy to make you laugh, and if so why hasn't he heard that kind of laugh from you before?

"Wow, okay. Here you go with the whole 'You're too nice (Y/N), don't talk to strangers (Y/N)' lecture again." You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't leave.

"Maybe I'm sick'a savin' you." He grunts, and you audibly gasp.

"That was one time! How was I supposed to know that guy wasn't actually looking for the nearest phone box?"

He shakes his head, "He was wearin' a fuckin' balaclava."

"We were outside the club! It was dark!"

"You're just lucky I was standin' outside."

"Oh yeah, my knight in shining armour." You tease, leaning further toward him again just to poke him in the side, which he winces at. You furrow your brows, and he clearly doesn't want you to ask by the way he's shuffling a little further away and avoiding your eye. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothin'. Just a little scraped up from my last fight."

"Let me see." You press, moving closer until your hands are bunching up the hem of his sweatshirt and he's stopping you with two hands on your wrists.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it."

"I don't believe you." You mumble, pushing the hem further until you're able to catch a glimpse of the blackened skin of his torso. You gasp almost immediately, shoving his clothing further up until he's practically shirtless in front of you, typically pale skin bloomed in shades of yellow, purple and straight up black as he grunts and winces with the strain of the movement. "Fuck, Katsuki, have you had anyone take a look at this?"

"You're lookin' at it right now, aren't you?" If you weren't so concerned, you would've shoved your fingers into his sides over his ability to give such a snarky comment while you're just trying to help.

"You could have internal bleeding, how long have you had this?" You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed, and he knows he doesn't deserve this. Doesn't deserve this kind of doting, nor the painstakingly gentle glide of your fingers across his abdomen. Featherlight touches lighting sparks across his skin, and if he weren't so focused on the light flooding in from the party still very much in full swing behind you he might have let you do this for as long as you wanted.

But then the doors are sliding open, noise pollution spilling into the quiet cocoon of space the two of you had made for yourselves away from it all and a familiar mess of green curls is stumbling out. So Katsuki does what he does best, he pulls away.

"Baby!" Izuku drawls, attaching himself to your side like he hasn't seen you all night and in seconds it seems you've managed to forget all about Katsuki's injuries. "Been lookin' for you everywhere. Thought you ran away." He mumbles into your skin, nose pressed to where your neck meets your jaw and you laugh— that same mirthful giggle as before— and he knows he deserves even worse for the way his ow smile drops at the scene in front of him.

"I've only been out for like ten minutes, Izu." You chuckle, nails running over his scalp the same way they had run over Katsuki's skin moments prior and he wonders what it would feel like to know you meant it.

"Too long." He sighs, body falling limp in your hold like it's the best thing he's felt all night, which it probably is. You let him breathe you in for a moment before you're catching Katsuki's awkward gaze over the thick block of muscle that is your boyfriend and pushing him upright with a smile that's anything but the slightest bit annoyed at his inebriated behaviour. Just quietly amused, like this whole thing is endearing for you.

He only seems to notice Katsuki when he stands to his full height, eyes lighting up the same way they always did when he was faced with his best-friend and he's quick to pull him into the embrace, mumbling an excited "Kacchan, you're here too!" as he holds the two of you in an uncomfortably close, three-way hug and you're left a tangle of limbs on your friends' balcony.

"Get the fuck off me, nerd." He struggles, but you just smile and wrap your arms around the two of them, like this is the most normal thing you've done all night and he knows deep down if the two of you let him he'd stay here forever. It's only when Bakugo mumbles, "You're crushin' your girlfriend." that Izuku lets up, releasing the two of you from his sweaty embrace in favour of swinging his arm around your shoulder as he sparks up whatever random conversation his drunken brain seems to want to have and the two of you are left shooting eachother lopsided smiles over how adorably drunk your boyfriend is.

But that was normal. At least, you try to convince yourself it was. Glancing over at that familiar mess of curls as it snores a blissful symphony of exhaustion beside you.

You sigh, sitting up and scrubbing your hands across your face. You'd have to look closer. Closer to when this all began and you find yourself circling back to the same night over and over, the night all these fruitless fantasies solidified into something real.

"Bakugo! You showed up!"

Kirishima was one of Izuku's many friends that you decided to love wholeheartedly the first time you had met him way back in university. He had started the conversation with fussing over how in love the two of you were, how you were all Izuku seemed to talk about for the last six months and how excited everyone was to finally be able to put a face to the name. The two of you bonded over your shared affection toward the freckle faced boy pretty quickly, which soon blossomed into a valuable friendship over the years.

Bakugo, however, didn't seem so pleased to see him.

"Yeah, whatever, Shitty hair. I'm not staying for long."

That familiar grumble only made the red head erupt into hearty laughter, slapping an arm around the irritated blonde as he drags him to the private table Mina made sure to book in advance for such a large party.

He spots you and Izuku first, curled up against eachother in the wide booth as you nurse the edge of a half empty wine glass, the drink sparkling in the dim, yellow light. Izuku holds what looks to be some kind of fruity cocktail, which Bakugo refrains from making any sort of comment on as he slides into the booth beside you, that same, lint covered hoodie sliding up his forearms as he glides them across the sticky table.

"Kacchan! How did it go?" Izuku sits up, leaning across you to converse with his friend, who slouches back against the booth like he wants to be anywhere else right now.

"Kicked his ass. The dumb extra gave all that talk just to get knocked out second round."

The table erupts in cheers, a few of the girls holding their glasses up in celebration of his win and he looks down at his grazed knuckles as if to avoid the attention.

"Man, I wish we coulda seen it. Future heavyweight champion Bakugo Katsuki!" Denki cheers once more, waving his glass that spills over the marble tabletop and Sero gets up with a grumble in search of a napkin.

"You didn't give him too hard of a beating though, right?" Mina asks, sliding in to claim Sero's empty spot across the table from the three of you. "I mean, you still let him get up after?"

"Nah. Kid's six foot under. Showed up to invite you guys to the funeral." He jokes, but his face remains sat in that same old scowl despite it.

"I wouldn't put it past you, Bakubro. Sometimes you turn into a beast in the ring." Kirishima returns with a tray of shots, placing them on the table and offering the first to Bakugo, who politely declines.

"Aw, come on, Bakugo! This is your first night out with us in like. . .forever!" Mina whines, and Denki nods beside her.

"You won the fight man, now's the time to let loose a little!"

"If Kacchan drank each time he won a fight, this would be an intervention." Izuku chimes in beside you, taking a sip of his drink with his free hand that isn't slung over your shoulders.

Katsuki gives a nod of approval beside you, but you lean forward to push a shot glass each in front of the three of you. One orange, one green and one bright purple with little shimmers floating around inside. "I'm sorry we didn't get to come watch, the least you could do is celebrate the win with us." You suggest, urging him to take his pick.

He thinks for a moment, lips pursed like he's mulling it over before muttering, "Fuck it." and making a grab for the orange glass, downing it in one without waiting for you or Midoriya to take yours alongside him.

The table erupts in cheers again, watching like giddy teenagers as Bakugo swallows hard, face screwing at the bitter taste of the hard liquor disguised as 'sweet' on the menu.

"(Y/N) the Bakugo whisperer! Teach me your ways!" Kirishima laughs, hand slamming the table a few times as you shrug, a coy smile painting your lips.

"Maybe I'm just better than all of you." You tease, fingers wrapping around the pink glass as you nudge Izuku to take the vibrant green beside it, sharing a glance before downing each of your shots in sync with one another.

"Yeah," Bakugo coughs, still processing his own drink, "or maybe she's the only one with a fuckin' brain."

"I dunno, she's been with Midoriya for. . . how many years?" Denki jokes, earning him an elbow from Mina.

You smile at the mention, fingers interlocking with his against your lap, the denim skirt you're wearing riding up slightly with the movement. "Five. Next week."

"Ugh! You two are like. . ultimate couple goals!" Mina gushes, face pressed to her hands against the table like she's witnessing true glory up close.

Izuku smiles at that, turning to press a kiss to your cheek and pull you a little closer to his side, which in turn has the whole table erupting in childish coos. "To many more." He practically beams, retrieving his original glass just to clink it with yours against the table and take another swig, which you return.

More cocktails, a few rounds of karaoke and a boat load of shots later and everyone seems to have found themselves their own little space in the crowded bar.

It's late, probably later than it should've been, and Katsuki has to continuously remind himself that he's supposed to be 'letting loose' and to relax his shoulders each time they wind up by his ears.

He's drunk. Not wasted, he offered to be the sober driver because he didn't trust either of you to make it home in one piece, but enough to feel the tingle in his fingertips as they rest against the thighs of his jeans in the bar stool he's found himself perched upon. Beside him, Deku's humming along to some cheesy pop song he doesn't think he's heard before, umpteenth drink in hand as he sways slightly with every new melody that blasts through the crackly speakers.

You're not far. Maybe about a metre or two away, bent over the bar as you point at the row of colourful bottles behind the barman, dictating which one you'd like to choose for your next round, which you graciously offered to provide for the two boys. Your two boys, as you called it.

It was funny, being called yours. Izuku didn't seem to mind, of course he didn't. He was yours. Had been since the day he sat next to you in his first aid course, vital for becoming a teacher, though you had been pursuing nursing at the time.

Katsuki only became yours by association. He was Izuku's, he knew that. Didn't need to be said, nor addressed. He just was, always had and always would be. Things worked out that way, worked just fine and didn't need to be messed with. But then you came along, and suddenly there was a new person to not completely hate. A new person to laugh at his rude, and probably inappropriate, jokes. A new set of tastebuds to try all his cooking. A new set of his hands to clap and a voice to cheer his name in the stands of a boxing ring. A new place in that cold and withered heart of his to be filled.

You became part of him, because you were part of Izuku. And now, the three of you were part of eachother. He thinks maybe you all share part of the same soul, which he would never admit out loud, because if anyone asked he didn't believe in that corny shit. But he did. Seeing you and Izuku it was hard not to believe two people could be made for eachother, and he thinks maybe you were kind of made for him too.

So hell, if you wanted to claim him as yours, he wouldn't stop you. As long as he got to exist in your guys' orbit.

You shoot them both a smile over your shoulder as you wait for the drinks to be prepared, that same drunk flush in your cheeks he knew meant trouble even on a good day. You're tapping your nails against the bar, waiting patiently like the good girl you are, when a familiar intro has your entire body lighting up.

"Oh my god! It's our song!"

You're darting over to take one of Izuku's hands in yours, pulling him to his feet with no complaints as you fight to take Katsuki's in your other. He lets you hold it, but doesn't budge, shaking his head. "No way. I'm stayin' here."

"Kacchan! Don't be boring! You love this song!" Deku pouts, arm wrapping around your waist on instinct to toy with the hem of your cropped shirt.

"You love this song. I suffer through it every time I give you two a ride because I have to."

"I see you tapping your fingers against the steering wheel every time it plays!" You argue, nodding along with Izuku.

"That's a nervous habit." He grunts, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweatshirt.

"No, that's a nervous habit." You correct, motioning toward his fingers, which quickly flex into balled fists at your acknowledgment. "You tap when you enjoy things!"

"I don't." He practically growls, but the blush across his cheeks gives him away almost immediately and Deku's already dragging him to his feet with a lot more force than you had.

"You so do!" He laughs, already beginning to sway with you as he drags Katsuki with you as collateral. "You tap your feet every time you listen to Foo Fighters!"

It's loud on the dance floor, cramped with sweaty bodies and the three of you have to shout to hear eachother now. "I like the drums!" He tries to argue over the sound, but the two of you have slipped into your own little world, dancing hand in hand to the beat of your favourite song.

He's too stiff too dance. Surprisingly uncoordinated despite his profession, so he settles for watching the two of you instead. You're so close you may as well be part of eachother, chests bumping with each bounce of your heels and laughs mixing into one breath as you twirl and spin around one another. Deku takes your hand in his, extending his arm to spin you once or twice before you're collapsing back against his chest, head thrown back in that same joyful laughter as the night on the balcony.

This goes on for a few more songs and a few more rounds of shots, which Katsuki declines under the excuse of him driving, until he's herding the two of you into his vehicle at god knows what time and grumbling about making sure you get home safe.

He helps you into the backseat, tries to with the help of Deku, who's still reasonably sober compared to you— a mess of flailing limbs and wet kisses pressed to your boyfriend's chubby cheeks as they box you into the backseat.

Katsuki's just about to round to the drivers side, Deku in tow with the passengers seat before you're grabbing him by his collar and begging him to stay with you.

"Don't leave me alone, Izu. Sit with me." You whine, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and he looks a little embarrassed at how publicly you're seconds away from groping him in front of his best-friend, but Katsuki just nods, urging him to join you, which he does, like the dutiful boyfriend he is.

The car rides filled with awkward silence as Katsuki tries to focus on the road, on anything but the way you're practically straddling Izuku in the rearview mirror, legs slung over his lap and your tongue hot against his neck as you sigh into him, sweet little murmurs about how cute he is, how much you love him. All the things that should be done in private.

"Baby, we're in the car." Deku mumbles when you try to turn one chaste peck into multiple open mouthed kisses, practically salivating over him before you've even made it to your side of town.

"He doesn't mind." You whisper, teeth running along his throat in a way that makes him stifle a groan. "Do you, Kacchan?" You lean forward, into the front seat and Bakugo has to grit his teeth to stop himself from swerving off the road.

It's the first time you've called him that. The first time you've called him anything besides his government name and something about it being Deku's name for him that you're using makes his stomach flutter.

His lack of answer is enough for you, and you're plopping yourself right back into Izuku's lap and pulling him in by his hair for a sloppy kiss. "See? I told you. He's a good friend, he doesn't mind."

A good friend. God, if he was a good friend he wouldn't be fighting so hard to stay in control just from watching the two of you like this. Wouldn't be driving one handed just so he can keep adjusting his jeans to make sure neither of you catch a glimpse of the bulge that's threatening to rip out of his zipper. Wouldn't be driving the speed limit just so he gets to keep the two of you in his backseat for longer.

He unlocks the door with a button from the drivers seat when he pulls up outside your shared apartment. Nothing but a soft 'click' of the lock opening to say goodbye. But that, obviously, isn't enough for you.

You're stumbling around to the passenger seat window, knocking on the glass and begging him to roll it down just so you can lean into the glorious smell of his leather seats a little longer and take a deep inhale, sighing out that, "Your car smells so good, Kacchan. Smells like you."

He buffers for a moment. Flexes his hand on the steering wheel and eyes Deku over your shoulder through the passenger seat window like he's asking for permission to accept the compliment.

"Could you help me get her upstairs?" He asks. A genuine favour from his best-friend, for your boys to help put you to bed and he'd be a real asshole if he said no.

So he helps lumber you up four flights of stairs, eventually opting to carry you bridal style up the last two after you and Midoriya nearly rolled down the second. You're babbling the whole time, running your nose along his hairline and taking slow breaths like he's a pack of camels and you're trying to get in as much smoke as possible before he burns out.

"Izu says you smell good, too. Says he likes keeping your sweatshirts 'cause they smell like you. Isn't that cute, Kacchan?"

He ignores you because he doesn't know what else to do. Because Deku's got his back to him, practically marching up the stairs and he can almost feel the scarlet of his cheeks from here. Because a good friend wouldn't embarrass him by acknowledging this. And he's trying so hard to be a good friend.

He only places you back on your feet when you touch down on the floor of your shared apartment and the doors safely closed. Only takes his hands off your waist when he's sure you can stand. Deku still won't make eye contact, and he thinks maybe this is his punishment for letting things carry on so long in the car.

But then you're pressing your face to his chest, nuzzling against him like you've forgotten which one's which and sighing into him, "We love y'so much, Kacchan. You know that, right?"

He rubs a hand over your back. Doesn't know why. Trails his fingers through the ends of your curls and even pulls one around his finger just to feel it bounce back like it was never there. Like this will all be a distant memory tomorrow morning and you'll go back to being his best-friend's girlfriend. That this will have never happened.

Deku's watching him now. Not angry, just quiet. Eyes glassy and kiss-bitten lips parted like he's seeing him for the first time. Like he's watching some sort of puzzle fall into place and suddenly the warmth of your body pressed against him is gone and you're trailing back to Izuku, running your nails over his scalp the way you had before and pressing sloppy kisses to his jawline.

Katsuki thinks he should leave. Knows he should. But he doesn't, stands there like he doesn't know where to put himself, holding eye contact with his best-friend while you lick a long stripe from his jaw to his cheek and break into that familiar grin.

"He can stay, can't he, Izu?" You hum, shooting Katsuki an assessing glance before whispering, "I think he wants to watch."

It's so fucking twisted, which must be why he stays. Must be why he watches you palm his best-friends cock through his jeans, wishes it was his. It's why he obeys when you tell him to, "Sit.", legs spread wide across your sofa as you clamber yourself into his lap, Izuku right behind you, hands trailing your side like he's been waiting for this as you run your nose along his Kacchan's jaw.

"You're so lonely, Kacchan. So sad and lonely. We want to help you." You whisper, and he thinks he feels tears brimming his lash line, eyes falling shut as the first one falls, cascading down his cheek, only to be lapped up by your hot tongue against his skin. "'S okay," you coo, carding gentle fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp just right in a way that makes him preen, groaning to the touch, "You don't have to cry. We've got you."

Your fingers bunch the hem of his sweatshirt, lifting it over his head and he doesn't fight. Raises his arms and lets you pull it off, only to be thrown somewhere and surely be kept by the two of you. The bruise is healing now, more yellow than purple, almost green in places, but still tender enough to warrant care and you are oh so careful with him. Sliding down until you're on your knees between his legs, pressing kiss after kiss along the lean muscle of his abs, across the blood-rushed skin and his head lolls back against the sofa, only to be caught by Izuku's hands in his matted hair, keeping him upright.

"Stay awake, baby. We can't take care of you properly if you don't keep your eyes on us." He chastises, but his voice is so fucking gentle. So fucking sweet and Bakugo thinks this must be some kind of fucked up mind game, some cruel trick to mock him for how badly he wanted this.

"I'm sorry." He chokes out, voice thick with tears but Izuku only shushes him, hand rubbing over his hairline to push his sticky hair from his forehead and run his thumb over the silvery scar there.

"You don't have to be sorry. You never have to be sorry. Not with us."

He nods, because what else is he supposed to do. Glassy eyes trained on the only constant he's ever known as he lets his girlfriend run her tongue over the waistband of Katsuki's jeans. He feels like he's floating, the only part of his body he's still in control of being his hand flexing at his knee. Tensed, like he so desperately wants to make a grab for your hair, and Izuku think it's adorable how much he holds himself back for fear of overstepping a line that isn't even really there anymore.

Does Katsuki know he wants him to fuck you? He fights a grin at the thought. His dumb, fucked out best-friend all flustered when he realises that he's allowed to have this. That he'll willingly give it to him.

Still, he does find it a little inconsiderate that Kacchan's the one getting all the attention. After all, it's him that splits you open almost every night. His cock that you crawl home to, his name that you whisper while you sleep, his couch in the apartment he bought you on the first viewing just because you said you liked the windows, and now Katsuki's about to be the one to claim your mouth first on that very same couch.

All it takes it two firm taps against your shoulder and you're stilling almost immediately, fingers tucked in Katsuki's belt loops as you pull back to look up at your boyfriend, a dopey grin on your face. He smiles, running a soothing hand across your cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear— "Why don't you show him how you do it first, hm? Don't wanna overwhelm him."

You blink up at him a few times— these slow, loving, cat-like blinks— ping ponging between his face and Katsuki's crotch as if mulling the idea over in your head before a wicked smile spreads across your face and you're turning to face him, hands already pawing at his zipper. He laughs, stroking a palm over your scalp to rest at the back of your head as you smile up at him, giddy with anticipation. "Let me sit down first, baby." He takes a seat on the opposite couch, leaving nothing but a small, hickory coffee table between the three of you and pats his thigh expectantly, "C'mere."

You perch in between his knees like this is the only thing you've been waiting to do all day and you almost purr when he caresses your jaw. "Open." He commands, but it isn't rough. Just firm, casually dominating in a way that's almost out of character for him. You obey, even going the extra mile to slide out your tongue and tip your head back. He presses his thumb against the muscle, pushing it flat against your chin with a hum, "That's it. Good girl. Little wider, sweetheart."

You always get like this when you drink. All soft and pliant, begging to be fucked dumb. To be bossed around so that tired little brain of yours doesn't have to put in any work. It's funny really, jarring almost and he gets off on the idea of how stunned Kacchan must be right now. How untoward this must be for him. To see you, the headstrong loudmouth you are, knelt between his knees like a fucking house pet and letting him guide your mouth over his cock.

It's not always like this. Sometimes he's the one kneeling, which is equally just as fun, but it's what makes times like this always so special. They don't come often, so when they do, who is he to deny his sweet girl of what she so desperately needs? What kind of boyfriend would that make him? And now that you have an audience he's only all the more intent on thoroughly pleasing you in front of your guest.

It's messy when you swallow his cock. Drool peeking down the sides of your lips, pooling at the tufts of bright green hair at the base of him and you moan over him when his hand finds the base of your hair, fingers curling through the strands, a gentle reminder that he's there. "Doin' so good, sweet girl. You're so beautiful. So perfect." His hazel eyes twinkle at you, round with adoration and Katsuki nearly chokes on his own tongue when they land on him, "Isn't she, Kacchan?"

His knee jumps, "Yeah. Yeah, she's— she's great." His chest heaves, voice tight like the air burns and Midoriya's brows furrow, unsatisfied.

"Great? Is that—" he moans, loud and unfiltered, when you constrict around the tip of him, never breaking eyes until he's ready to continue. "You can do better than that. I know you can."

"I don't—" he grits his teeth, eyes screwing shut as he presses his feet hard against the parquet flooring in the effort to steady his legs, "Fuck, what do you want me to say?"

He smiles at that, eyes falling back on you, head tilting to the side in that unashamed admiration of the girl beneath him. "I think you're making him nervous, honey." he addresses you directly and you look up, humming in acknowledgment before releasing him with a 'pop.' You sit up a little higher, turning to Katsuki with a wet chin and wide eyes, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before looking back up at Izuku like you're waiting for permission for something. He nods, chin tucked toward Katsuki, "You can help."

You're up in seconds, leaning down to give your boyfriend a passionate kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth and your fingers curling around his jaw before your eyes lock on Katsuki.

They're different now. Smaller, no longer wide with love but narrow with something else. Lust, maybe. Or maybe this is a punishment. A reckoning. Karma for all the late night phone calls, the stolen brushes of skin in dimly lit classrooms, the silent claim he's kept over your boyfriend since they were children that never really went away. Not even after you, not even while craving you just as badly. Whatever it is, you look you're about to eat him alive, and he thinks— knows he's going to let you.

You grip his chin with two fingers and his entire being shifts, world spinning on its axis like your touch has just given him every reassurance he needed to be okay with this now. Just for now. To have his cake and eat it too.

You straddle him again, thick thighs bracketing his hips and he fights off a groan at the heat of your skin through the denim. "Do you want me to help you, Kacchan?" It's a simple question. So fucking simple, but his brain short circuits. He blinks, dumbly, and you pout at him. "We don't have to do anything—"

Two strong hands grip your hips, keeping you flush to him, panic set in the intensity of his hold. "No. I— shit." His voice breaks, he tries to bite it back. "I wanna fuckin' ruin you." The admission flies out of him and his lips set like he wants to drag it back in as soon as it leaves, but your entire body seems to lit up at his confession, head turning over your shoulder to shoot Izuku a look that reads as slightly amused. He nods, slow and convincing, from his position on the couch and it's only then Katsuki registers the steady stroking of his hand over his cock.

You lean in, hands braced against his shoulders and lips brushing his ear with a lazy smirk, "I think it's going to be the other way around."

Izuku always fucks you well. He's slow, considerate, intent full with his touches. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with practiced hands after a particularly long and trialling day.

But katsuki? Katsuki fucks like he wants to do damage.

Hips rutting against yours with so much force the couch scrapes across the floorboards a little with each thrust, filling the room with creaks and slaps of wet skin against skin as he groans over you, "Wanted to do this for so long. Fuck, bet you wanted this too, didn't you? Couldn't fuckin' help yourself." His hot breath fans your face with each pant, eliciting spark-like tingles across your skin and all you can do is nod and reach for him, nails scraping along his back in a way that makes him arch his spine, burying himself into you that little bit deeper.

"Shit, you're so tight. Couldn't wait to get me like this, huh? Bet it's all you two freaks think about each time he fucks you." He's babbling, totally pussy drunk and it comes out more volatile than either of you could have expected when he stepped through the front door. "Does he like seeing you like this? Like watching you cream on another man?" Izuku is still sitting directly opposite the both of you, but he hasn't been directly acknowledged by either of you, save for the way your eyes flick to the hand pumping his leaking dick every so often, since Katsuki first slipped it in. You mewl, which isn't a direct denial, but Katsuki still smirks above you, crimson eyes dropping down to watch the way you quiver around him before flitting back up to your face. "Or is it just me? Only me that gets to fuck this pretty pussy while he watches?"

"Just— just you. Only you."

His jaw goes loose, swollen lips parted as a guttural groan rips from his throat. "Yeah, fuckin' right it's only me." a particularly hard thrust knocks the air from your lungs, "Only me."

He's confident now. Cocky just from the way he's got you, dumb on his cock, and it's enough to have him turning over his shoulder with a shit eating grin, addressing Deku directly with, "You watchin', nerd? Look at how fucked out she is, all dumb on my cock." he mutters, turning back just to run his eyes over the way your tits jump with the stuttered breath you take in at his humiliating words.

Izuku smirks, uncharacteristically smug for him. "I think she likes you, Kacchan."

He laughs, breathy and hoarse, "Ya fuckin' think? Clenchin' me like her life depends on it."

You remember now, how something had shifted deep inside your gut. How those boys, your boys, had shifted your entire being.

You think you find it now. Here, in this memory. Of Katsuki between your legs, and Izuku by your side. The best of both worlds, both of your worlds, in one place.

You realise that nothing is lost. Nothing was ever really found. That this was there all along, from the day you were seated next to that bushy browed, green haired boy on the first day of first aid training way back in University. You might not have officially met Katsuki then, but deep down you know you had. That in knowing Midoriya, you knew him too. Because it's not possible to love one without loving the other.

And you know now, that it's okay to love both. Because fuck, you do.

[siocalm]

ᖴOᒪᒪOᗯ TᕼEIᖇ ᒪEᗩᗪ

Once upon a time... You found out your boyfriend was once a part of a 'no-strings-attached' threesome with his two best friends! But.. Wait.. Why are you suddenly asking them to teach you how to make your boyfriend submissive?!

K. Bakugou x Reader

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

Warnings: HEAVY SMUT with barely any plot (i was ovulating, sorry..), sub/bottom!bkg, dom!reader, top!kiri, top!izuku, mentions of kiribakudeku 3some (but no feelings were involved), OOC, NOT PROOFREAD

“You’re so cute, Kats,” you murmured, cupping his burning red face like you’d just discovered something precious.

Bakugo froze.

For a split second, he just stared at you. Eyes wide, breath caught somewhere in his chest, before his scowl snapped back into place. He jerked his head to the side, teeth sinking into his lip as colour spread all the way to his ears.

“Tch, what the hell are you saying?!” he snapped, voice rough. “Quit talking shit like that! I’m not cute!”

But he didn’t pull away.

If anything, his grip around you tightened, fingers curling stubbornly into your clothes like he refused to let go. His shoulders were tense, jaw locked, but the way his gaze kept flicking back to you gave him away. You can feel his toned legs encircle your waist, keeping you locked on top of him.

Soon, the bed creaked with a new weight. “Kacchan always says that at first.” Midoriya laughed lowly, scarred hand guiding yours to Katsuki’s bare chest. Your palms flattened immediately, relishing in the rapid, pounding thud of his heart.  

Midoriya leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, “He’s sensitive right over here-”  still holding your hand, he guided it towards your boyfriend’s nipples. His fingertip brushed it first, showing you how to tweak it just right, slow and deliberate, before easing your fingers to do the same.

Your breath hitched at the whimper that escapes Katsuki, “S-shut yer trap, Deku! I ain’t sensi- h-hngaah…” he jerked like he’d been shocked, shoulders tightening as a tremor ran through him. His head dipped forward, blond bangs falling into his eyes while he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Told ya..” Izuku’s laugh was soft and teasing, brushing against your ear in the closest, most deliberate way. 

You can’t believe this is finally happening. You watched in awe as your blonde boyfriend uncharacteristically let out high-pitched moans, just from having his nipples played by both you and Izuku.

A few weeks ago, you and Katsuki finally got to bed after stressful days at work. The room was quiet in the comfortable way that only happens when you are in each other’s arms. The sheets were warm, and the faint glow of the city lights filtered through the curtains. You were half on top of him, half beside him, your cheek pressed against his arm, idly tracing the scars around it.

For someone who spent most of his life bristling like a ticking time bomb (both literally and figuratively), Katsuki Bakugo had gotten surprisingly used to this. He never thought he would find love, and did not even imagine that he would find comfort in someone other than himself. At the ripe age of 26, and being together for over two years, Bakugo was glad to be someone’s special person. He was glad- no, absolutely thankful to every single higher being, that it was you who gave him your never-ending love.

His arm was slung lazily around your back, hugging you so close to him, allowing himself to be the most vulnerable. Raw and exposed just for you to see. He’s not Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, he’s simply just your Kats, ‘Suki, honey.

Silence settled again for a moment. It was the kind that didn’t need filling, the kind built from trust instead of awkwardness. Bakugo stared at the ceiling while you played with the hem of his shirt.

Then he spoke, like the thought had been chewing on him.

“…You- uh- ever do anything stupid before we started dating?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the question, and then, because he looks nervous? You can feel the way his fingers twist your hair, as if it can soothe his nerves. “Define stupid, Kats.”

“Like,” he gestured vaguely with his free hand, “relationship shiy.”

You lifted your head a little to look at him. “That’s very vague..? Are you talking about exes or something? I thought you already knew that I had previous relationships before?”

“Tch. No, dumbass. I meant like- Gah!”

Another pause after a groan. He didn’t look at you when he said the next part.

“…I.. Uhm. Fuck- used to be in a threesome.”

You sat up, jaw on the floor, because what do you mean the Katsuki Bakugo was in a threesome?! The same Katsuki who stuttered when he tried to confess to you years ago? The same Katsuki whose entire face got so red when you both shared your first kiss as an official couple?!

There was a long, stunned beat of silence.

“A what?”

“A threesome,” he repeated flatly, but he wasn’t meeting your gaze.

Your brain tried to catch up. “…Okay.” Then it caught up. “With who?”

Bakugo rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking way more interested in the ceiling.

“…Deku and Shitty Hair.”

You stared at him, jaw dropping even more. 

“…Deku as in Izuku Midoriya?!”

“Yeah.”

“And Shitty Hair as in Eijiro Kirishima?!”

“Yeah. Sweets, I’m pretty sure ya’ only know one Deku and one Shitty Hair”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again, blinking at him with eyes wide.

“Huh. Well… That’s… Something I didn’t expect to hear on a Friday night..”

His eyebrow twitched. “That’s it?”

“I meannnn” you gestured helplessly, “I’m surprised, of course. Two years, and I never knew about this, or that you even swing in that direction! But I’m not gonna like… condemn you for it or something.”

He studied your face carefully, like he was trying to see if you were lying. “You’re not weirded out?”

“Never,” you said honestly. “Though I have to admit that it’s something I’ll take time in processing.”

He exhaled through his nose and looked back at the ceiling.

“It wasn’t a relationship thing,” he muttered. “No feelings. None of that crap. It just… happened.”

You tilted your head. “How does that just happen?” You try to envision a younger Katsuki, the man you haven’t met yet. How did this arrangement come into play? Who initiated it? When did it-

Bakugo huffed. “Stress.”

“That’s your explanation?”

“Mm.”

You waited, eyes deadpanned as you crossed your arms and quirked one eyebrow up. He glanced at you again, clearly realizing you weren’t going to let him get away with that.

“…It was during that period after we started getting serious hero work,” he said reluctantly. “Everyone was wound tight all the time. Missions, pressure, rankings… all that shit.”

His fingers started idly tapping your thigh as he talked.

“We got drunk once and Shitty Hair suggested it as a joke at first,” he continued. “Deku turned red as hell. I told them both to fuckin’ stop playing…Then a few weeks later, it stopped being a joke. When, uhm, Ei and I were stuck with the nerd after he invited us to be the guest heroes in his class.”

You were quiet for a few minutes, trying your hardest to wrap your mind around his abrupt confession. Soon, you lay back down beside him again, resting your head on his shoulder.

“…Did it last long?” you asked gently.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “A few months, maybe. On and off. Sometimes ‘s all of us, and sometimes it's not. ”

“There weren't any drama?”

“Nope.”

“No secret feelings?”

“Hell no.”

You hummed thoughtfully as Bakugo glanced down at you again.

“Ya’ good, sweets? Y’know, you can be honest with me...” his brows furrowed. For a second, he wanted to go back in time before his stupid mouth started spewing his past. The last thing he wants is for you to leave him, or to be weirded out by Deku and Shitty Hair. There may not be any romantic feelings involved, but he still treasured those two dumbasses as his closest friends.

You shrugged against him. “You trusted me enough to tell me. That’s the part I care about.”

“…Tch.”

He clicked his tongue, but there was no bite in it. He brought you closer to him again, tightening his grip on your waist as he shifted positions, burying himself in the crook of your neck. 

You shifted slightly to look at him,  “…So,” you said slowly, curiosity starting to creep in despite yourself. You let out a soft snort of laughter,  “How exactly did that first time even happen?”

Bakugo groaned and buried himself deeper against you. “Fuckin’ hell… I knew ya’ were gonna ask that shit, perv”

After your little “Hey!” and a slap on his shoulder due to his name-calling, he let out a long sigh.

“…Alright. It started after one mission when we were all completely wrecked…”

A few days later, you were still thinking about it.

“I was the- what do people call it? Ah, the bottom.”

You tried not to. You really did. Promise! 

But the thought had lodged itself into your brain like a splinter, and every time you almost forgot about it, it would immediately come back to the forefront of your mind. If you were being honest, him being submissive was way more surprising than finding out he used to be in a threesome with his closest friends.

You bit your lip. Katsuki was always the dominant one in your relationship. Even when he was relaxed, even when he was soft with you, there was always that underlying edge of dominance to him. The way he guided you by the waist. The way his voice dropped when he was teasing you. The way he looked at you when he wanted something.

Katsuki Bakugo was not the type of person anyone would ever imagine being submissive.

And yet…

Your brain, very unhelpfully, keeps on remembering that specific part of his confession.

The idea that there was a side of him you’d never seen before… a version of him that had once trusted someone else enough to give up control…

It made your curiosity spiral. Not in a judgmental way. Not even in a jealous way.

Just… Plain desire. The need to see him be the one in your mercy for once.

What would he be like?

Would he still be stubborn? Would he get embarrassed? Would he bark orders anyway? Would he be quiet?

Your face warmed slightly.

Would he like it if you tried?

Immediately, another thought followed.

….What if you did it wrong?

This was the problem. You had zero experience taking the lead with him like that. Sure, you’d teased him before, pushed his buttons, but actually flipping the roles? That was different. You never even tried, to be honest.

What if it felt awkward?

What if he didn’t enjoy it?

What if you completely ruined the mood?

You sank further into the couch, staring blankly at your phone. 

You’re overthinking this!

But the thoughts just kept piling up, until all you can think about is taking control for once. 

There was… one solution. A very questionable solution. But technically, it was the most logical one.

Because the only two people on earth who knew the answer to your problem…

It was them.

“He reacts the most to direct attention… Always wanna be the center of everything, right bro?” A flash of red hair appeared, slightly in front of you. Kirishima’s muscular frame towers over Katsuki, and you can see how he ducked his head lower to Katsuki’s chest. “F-fuck. Shitty hair, you better not do what- MMMH!”

Bakugo’s back arched, head tilted back when Kirishima took one nipple to his mouth, sucking almost immediately and leaving love marks around the sensitive flesh. “Ha…A-ah, Oi! T-too rough, y-you braindead asshole!” 

An uncharacteristic growl slipped from Kirishima’s lips as he bit down harder, drawing a sharp gasp and a breathless, “Fuck! Kirishima!”

Oh my… Seeing your boyfriend treated like a plaything by his friends, and now by you, sends a hot, restless feeling rushing through you. When your ass grinded against his clothed cock, Katsuki cried out, humping the air to try and gain more friction for his very erect member. “J-just do some shit already!”

“Ah, ah, Kaacchan,” Midoriya tuts behind you, fingers curling around the blonde’s waist and keeping him exactly where he wants him. There’s a teasing lilt to his voice. “You’re being rude.” His breath is warm, sending a tingling sensation that makes your pussy throb with want. “Aren’t you going to show your girlfriend some proper manners?” A chuckle escapes him. “Don’t tell me you need to be reminded.”

You feel your heart pounding in your chest when soft sniffles escaped Katsuki’s lips. His usually fiery eyes now look up to you, pupils blown wide. “P-please…” 

“C’mon, Kaachan. Don’t want your sweetheart to be disappointed in you, right?” 

“No..!” he jolted, hands reaching to your hips frantically. Blush taints his pale skin, going as far as his collarbones as he paws against your clothes. “P-Please…” he closes his eyes, biting his lips, “P-please fffuck m-me…”

Izuku smiled with exaggerated innocence, clapping his hands lightly, his voice pitched higher than usual. “Knew you weren’t totally useless, Kacchan!” The comment leaves Katsuki clenching his jaw tightly, short, frustrated whimpers escaping him as he tries to grind your ass back down.

Kirishima leaned back, admiring the marks he left on his bro’s pale skin, catching your attention once more. “Look, he’s easy to mark up, right? Sometimes he begs us to leave him filled with all sorts of marks, like he wants someone to claim him.”

A tremor passes through you and the explosive blond the second you feel the fabric of his undergarments being ripped apart.

Holy fuck, that was hot. And you assume Katsuki thought the same, as a low, needy whine escapes him.

“C’mere, we’ll show you what makes Kacchan beg and cry.” Izuku gently lifts you with ease, shifting you to sit at the side. 

You can see a lube bottle being passed around by the two men, both of whom then slather a generous amount on their hands. “I’m sure you already know this, but you need’a make sure he’s properly stretched.” Kirishima looked at you with a beaming smile, as if he was not about to demolish his closest friend.

“Shit… You know what to do, Kacchan.” A simple tap on his knees made Katsuki silently bristle, but he still pulled his legs up, presenting to all three of you with his arms under his knees. Izuku smiled, moving to rest in between his legs, lifting his ass slightly to land a powerful smack in one cheek that caused him to lurch with a loud yelp.

You were nearly hypnotised by the way Izuku’s rough fingers teased the fluttering hole, rubbing teasing circles around the rim. “Fuck… Fuck, Deku! NNgh…Ha…MNGHHH!” his volume grew the second the tip of Izuku’s finger entered his awaiting hole.

“D-Don’t stop you, nerd! G-go..Hah…G-go f-faster! S-shit! R-right there! Angh..!” Katsuki whimpers, hands trying to find anything to grab onto after he lets his legs rest on Izuku’s shoulders.

A low whistle brought you back to reality, “Damn.. I almost forgot how loud Bakugo can be”, Kirishima says with a laugh, watching how Izuku scissors open a moaning Katsuki. “Here, I’ll show you another way to lube up your fingers, yeah?”

You gulped, nodding because you don’t trust your voice at this point. Shit, who knew your boyfriend’s thighs quake so easily at the most simple touches?! 

“ShitshitshitSHIT! There! Y-you’re so close, Izuku! Fuckin’ press against it- mmMPH?!” His eyes widened at the sensation of your fingers on his tongue. Tears glistened as he looked up at you, struggling for a moment before giving in.

His eyes grew half-lidded, sucking and swirling his tongue around your fingers, thoroughly coating them with his saliva. 

“Atta girl… See how pretty he looks?” Kirishima complimented, before nudging Izuku to remove his fingers that were roughly pumping inside Katsuki’s ass, letting it leave with a long, wet squelch.

The blonde protested in muffles, trying to bring Izuku back in by pulling him with his legs, grinding his ass roughly against the palm. “Patience, Kacchan. Your girl is going to find out how it's done”

Deku beckoned you closer. Just like earlier with Katsuki’s nipples, he gently grabbed your fingers to teach you how to tease the awaiting heat, how to dip your fingers inside, before easing more to pump slowly.

Your eyes stay focused on Katsuki, trying your best to remember which actions make him close his eyes in pleasure, begging you to go faster. 

Brows furrowed in concentration, you curve your fingers slightly, just like how you would when you masturbate on your own. You hope you’re doing it right, especially with how Kirishima and Midoriya watch your every move as if waiting for you to hit something.

“S-sweets, g-go a bit d-deeper”, Katsuki instructed, already having his muscles tensed. You immediately follow through with his request. Suddenly, you feel one spongy spot that makes him jolt upright, an inhumane noise escaping his lips. “Ah! Fuuuuck, sweets, f-faster! F-faster- Yes, oh gods yes, just like that, you’re doing so well f’me! F-fuUUCK!” he screams, legs twitching as he meets your pace by slamming his hips on the curl of your fingers.

Kirishima took this as his sign to move closer to you both. He licks his lips, then wraps his entire hand around Katsuki’s hard cock, pumping it slow and hard. This made the blonde cry out further, the dual sensation making him shake on the mattress,

The continuous, frantic noises Katsuki makes only spur you further to hit that sensitive spot more. You match your pace with the handjob Kirishima is giving him, “Ah.. AH.. a-ah! Oh fuck.. E-ei.. S-sweets.. ‘M g-gonna, g-gon-na c-come!” he sobbed, hole clenching around your fingers.

Kirishima smirks, panting lowly as he glanced at you, “What do you think, should we let him come?”

“Yes! P-please, sweets. I-I was s’good!”

With a grunt, you nodded towards Kirishima, giving him the silent signal to go faster, “Y-yeah ‘Suki? Come on, let me see how much of a slut y-you can be”

Your words made him whimper lowly, sniffling in pleasure before one final slam of both Kirishima’s fist and your fingers made him roll his eyes to the back of his head, mouth opening in a silent scream as bursts of cum shot out from his tip. 

Both of you pulled away, yet he still shivered, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from him, watching how his cock continued to spurt strings of cum that landed on his abs. 

Bakugo collapsed back to the bed, panting and shuddering as his climax reached its end. Normally, this would’ve been the end of it. You already managed to learn what pleasures him, what pace he loves, and where his prostate is located.

But… Fuck… You may have to re-evaluate your kinks. Because now, seeing Katsuki barely even manage to sit properly… It makes you want to do a whole lot more.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” you chuckled, fingers brushing over your boyfriend’s inner thigh. You let your gaze flick to Deku and Kiri, letting them feel your attention before speaking. “Watch closely,” you said, voice low and deliberate, filled with a newfound confidence after seeing Katsuki become a subby, whiny mess, “and see if I’m doing it right.” The air between you thickened with anticipation, and both of them leaned in, eyes fixed on you, waiting for your next move.

You let your touch guide Katsuki to part his legs, keeping his foot flat on the mattress, taking the opportunity while he’s still recovering from his first orgasm. You drank in the sight of his twitching hole, heart racing at it gape due to your and Izuku’s touches.

“O-oi… The hell are you g’nna do- OH!” his toes curled, jolting when he feels a wet muscle enter his hole. You tentatively licked around it, then dived right in, eating him out. “S-shit.. Babe.. W-wait…” Katsuki brought his palms to his mouth, high-pitched gasps escaping him. You continue to suck on his hole, slurping on the wetness around it.

“Holy shiiiiit” Kirishima groans at the sight, immediately unbuckling his belt to let his own cock free. Izuku follows suit afterwards, and soon, they both pump their cocks in their hands, masturbating to your newfound intensity.

Katsuki gave them a low glare, “Disgusting, fucking perverts… Ya’ into this shit? Seeing me all- u-urgh- o-o-oh..” he chokes on his own voice, tearing up at you. He can feel the way his hole contracts around your tongue, can hear how wet he is down there. His two friends chuckle lowly, merely speeding up the pace on their cocks when you worship your boyfriend with your mouth.

The soft whimpers that leaves you only added to Katsuki’s pleasure, the vibrations course through his skin. Shit, he might come from this. His cock lay heavy on his abs, pulsing and curving for attention. Breathlessly, he reached out to it, crying at the immediate relief he felt afterwards. It’s too much. He matches his pace to the same pace Izuku and Kirishima set, the pleasure building as you treat him like your meal.

Shit. Shitshitshit-

“Cumming! Sweets, fuck- I-I’m cummi- a-ahh!” he sobbed again, body spasming when he came unexpectedly. Izuku and Eijiro moaned at the sight, their peaks hitting together in perfect unison, angling their heads of their cock to Katsuki’s body, painting his skin with the whites of their cum.

You panted, letting him catch his breath for a moment. Sitting back up on the bed, you wiped your face, slick and warm, but your eyes still burned with need. Yeah… there was no denying it, you were hooked.

His body quivers with your feathery touch, more… you want more.

“Kats, baby…” You murmured, bringing his attention to you. “Can you give one more?” he whimpers, shaking his head no. “N…No.. T-too much!” he pouted, lips trembling just like the rest of his body.

“Please…? Just one,” you whisper against his ear, “Look at Izuku and Eijiro, they haven’t properly cummed yet.. They’re our visitors, baby,” You urged. “Thought you wanna be good for me..?”

He sniffles, rubbing his eyes as he tries to remind himself to keep breathing, “O-okay..” he whispers, giving you his full consent to continue. You smile, pecking his lips and his cheeks, cooing softly at him. “Thank you, baby… Tell us the safeword if it’s gonna be too much, yeah? I love you.”

Sitting back up, you looked back at the redhead first.

“Kiri… let’s switch.” Your voice was low, firm, and edged with something that made the air thrum with tension. As you moved, your gaze lingered on your breathless boyfriend, tracing every shiver before flicking to the redhead. Finally, it settled on Izuku. “And Zuku… go there.” You pointed to the spot just by Katsuki’s face, letting your command hang in the air, heavy and irresistible.

“W-wha….” Katsuki mumbles, watching with hazy eyes when you straddle his hips, removing your clothes in the process and bumping your clit against the base of his cock, which was slowly getting hard again. He flinched, “F-fuck! Sweets, ‘m s-still sensitive”

“Shhh… It’s alright, baby. I won’t move until you tell me to.” Your hands glided over his abs, each touch grounding him, steadying his racing heartbeat. When they took their places, Izuku and Eijiro’s gazes were locked on you, their posture taut with anticipation. The air around them seemed to thrum with expectation, waiting for whatever you would do or say next.

Katsuki’s palms rested against your love handles, holding you tight against him. “Can you open your mouth for Izuku, Kats? Wanna see how you look…” A tiny hiccup escaped him, betraying how tense he was under your gaze. He opened his mouth, taking in the fat mushroom tip of Izuku’s cock, giving kitten licks and tiny sucks.

A low groan escaped Izuku, whispering praises, “Ffuck Kacchan.. Your mouth feels so good…” he nudges more of his length, more noises of pleasure leaving him until Katsuki fully took in his length, the blonde gagging slightly at the girth.

Izuku didn’t move, every muscle tense as he waited patiently for your next direction, his eyes locked on yours with a mix of eagerness and hesitation. You let your gaze drift back, slowly, deliberately, and found Kirishima already straining with anticipation, his chest rising and falling a little faster, pupils blown wide. The air between you seemed to thrum with tension as you held eye contact, feeling the silent heat radiating from him, the way his body subtly shifted closer as if he could somehow lean into your command. “Ei.. Part his legs”

He already knew what you were implying. He takes his cock to tease against Katsuki’s hole, before slowly sliding inside inch by inch until he is buried deep inside. “Ah.. Bakugo, s-so tight…” Katsuki cried out, despite gagging around Deku’s dick, his hand gripping you tightly.

And finally, you take his own cock, sliding it inside your own heat, your pussy clenching hard on his thick length.

After a few minutes to let him get used to the sensation, you, Izuku, and Eijiro seemed to have some neuro-connection, your control snapping and suddenly going all out on Katsuki.

Bakugo can barely form a single thought. He wants to moan, scream and cry at how good everything feels, but his mouth is being used by fucking Izuku. His eyes were crossed, mindlessly sucking on the weight on his mouth. He can feel the veins on the cock, gagging when the tip continuously hits the back of his throat.

Fuck… Izuku is so big. Hearing the taunts Izuku growls in his ear pushes Katsuki to suck harder. He immediately started hollowing his mouth, and his hands reached up from your waist to the base of Izuku’s cock, pumping it. Flat tongue memorising the taste of his pre-cum  

Then there was Shitty hair, grabbing Katsuki’s legs and pressing them to each side of your waist, putting him in a somewhat missionary position. Kirishima smacks each side of Katsuki’s ass, slowly thrusting in and out, and then going faster and faster until he’s plowing at him.

Big.. So fucking big… He feels stretched out, massive cock curved perfectly to press against his prostate. The bed creaks forward and backwards with the shared movements of Izuku and Kirishima. 

Fffuck. Feels so good, Ah- Mnghhh- The overstimulation is delicious, sensitivity making everything sensation the right amount of pain and pleasure combined. He screams muffled against Izuku’s dick, squealing when Kirishima uses him like a cocksleeve. 

And lastly, there’s you. You bounce on his hardened cock, tip barely inside before you slam back down, repeating the process over and over. Your hands are everywhere on his body, tweaking his nipples, sucking more marks on any skin left untainted. 

You make sure you push his cock to the deepest part of you, keeping him surrounded in your pussy’s heat. 

It’s too much… The combined stimulation makes him feel like a slut.

But he absolutely loves it.

He relishes control of his body, letting the three of you do whatever you want.

Izuku slams deeper on his mouth, messily letting saliva coat down Katsuki’s chin as he continues to ease his throat. Kirishima acts as if he has no control over his hips, heavy balls slapping the curve of Katsuki’s ass, concentrated on hitting his prostate over and over.

Fuck me! Use me like a toy! A-ahh.. M-Mngh- P-please… 

Intangible babbles coming from Katsuki’s lips only pushes you to go further. You use him like your personal dildo, rubbing your clit on his tip, grinding against it, then pushing it back inside.

M-more… Ngh.. More! More! He himself is growing addicted, screaming in delight in every movement the three of you do.

He swallows every drop of Izuku’s cum that shoots down his throat.

He lets Kirishima defile the deepest part of his insides with warm release.

He shoots his load inside you, each spurt making you clench and milk him for all he has.  

Fuck… Sssso G-gggoood…

His memory is hazy after that first orgasm. From what he barely remembers, it lasted a few more hours, with the three of you changing positions a few times. 

There was once when he was on all fours, cock pistoning in and out of him in an unforgiving pace, thick cums worth many rounds already sloshing inside him as his ass ripples in each thrust. 

Then the other knelt back down, tongue messily eating him out, keeping his thighs locked around your head. Whatever it is, by the end, he was absolutely spent, covered and filled with everyone’s release.

The room was quiet now, the only sounds the faint rustle of sheets and Katsuki’s steadying breaths. You sat beside him on the bed, gently brushing stray strands of hair from his damp forehead, your fingers lingering just long enough to soothe him. “Shhh…” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple after he groaned awake. He leaned into your touch, still trembling slightly, and you rubbed comforting circles across his shoulders, letting him feel that safe, grounding warmth after the bath you gave him when he was barely conscious.

By the time you glanced toward the door, Izuku and Kirishima were already gone, the soft click of the closing door marking their departure after they also had their own share of aftercare. They bid you and Katsuki a goodbye, even offering some food and medicine they remember Katsuki taking after every 'arrangement' they used to have all those years ago.

The emptiness of the room only made the moment feel more intimate, as if it were just the two of you suspended in time. Katsuki’s chest rose and fell with slower, more even breaths now, and the tension in his jaw softened under your fingers. You hummed softly, pressing your forehead to his shoulder, inhaling the faint scent of him that still clung to the sheets.

“You were amazing,” you whispered, brushing his cheek gently with your thumb. “Thank you… for trusting me. For letting me… experience this with you.” Your voice was low, tender, a mixture of relief and awe, and he gave a small, breathy laugh that made your heart clench. He murmured something inaudible in reply, pressing a brief, weak kiss to your hand and lips.

“I love you, Katsuki”

“I love you too, Sweets” he whispered.

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

A/N: I can't believe I ovulated so bad to the point that I wrote this ?? HAHAHAHA Once hell week is done, I'll most likely go back to writing fluff/crack (do people still call it crack..?) Additionally, I logged into Tumblr after ~3 days, and I can't believe my previous work got over 1.1k likes?! Thank you so much! It was such a cool surprise seeing the amount of support I got, especially since I logged in just after taking my test! I was almost shy with all the comments, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to reply to everything:(

[bearinlaice]

Can we also catch print on Izuku👀👀👀👀👀👀??

𐔌 catch print w/ i. midoriya .ᐟ ֹ ꒱ִ

꒰ cw: 18+, college!au, suggestive, teasing, awkward, pervy!slightly mean?!shy!fem!reader, curious!teasing!izuku (possibly ooc), pre-relationship

i don’t see why not … heh. this makes up for katsuki’s pt.2 okay? okay.

the study session in izuku's dorm room had started innocently enough. textbooks spread out on the bed, notes scribbled in his oddly neat handwriting, the faint hum of the air conditioner cutting through the conversation that had already drifted somewhere else— something about training schedules, hero internships— but it all blurred together into background noise.

“…and if you look at the way he angles his shoulder before impact, it’s actually really efficient for minimizing recoil, like—”

izuku is mid-ramble, notebook half open in his lap, fingers tapping against the page like he’s already thinking three steps ahead of what he’s saying.

you are listening, you swear you are, or at least— you were.

“…it also probably reduces long-term strain on the joints, which is something a lot of pro heroes overlook, especially with—”

your eyes wander, not even on purpose at first— just a brief glance downward that stays a moment too long…

it’s really subtle. you tell yourself that, at least. just a quick glance, nothing too obvious— your eyes tracing the shape outlined through his sweats, your brain filling in the rest.

you were a shy perv at heart, always stealing glances when you thought no one noticed, especially during these close-quarters study marathons with izuku.

he shifted in his seat on the edge of the bed, crossing his legs casually as he flipped a page in his hero ethics textbook. that's when you noticed it again— your gaze falling back into his lap. it wasn't blatant, but in the way he sat, thighs slightly parted, it was impossible to ignore.

you don’t even realize how long you’ve gone quiet.

your eyes locked on the faint bulge, you really couldn't help but categorize it in your mind, just like you did with every other guy you'd ever caught a glimpse of during these sneaky catch print sessions.

izuku’s? definitely a b— maybe pushing a d. the way it sat so pretty made your mouth go dry. you often imagined how it would feel, like how it would stretch you—

“…and that’s why i think—” he stops, the words just… cut off.

“uh... everything okay?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, voice soft but careful in that way that makes it obvious he’s replaying the moment.

you blink, snapping back up and he’s staring at you.

you’ve been caught. izuku's green eyes fixed on you from behind his book, catching you mid-stare, a small, awkward smile tugged at his lips. the air thickened with that awkward exchange, his gaze holding yours a second too long before finally speaking again.

"…did i lose you?" he asked, voice soft and genuine, tilting his head slightly. he uncrossed his legs slowly, letting the movement draw your gaze back down once again without realizing it. the bulge shifted, growing just a fraction under your lingering attention.

“what? no—” you answer too fast, shaking your head. “you’re fine, i’m listening.” you swallow hard, heat flooding your face as you tore your eyes away, fiddling with the edge of your notebook. gosh, you were such a perv— staring like that, ranking him in your head while he sat there all oblivious. "i, i just was… zoning out,” you mumbled, barely audible.

he hums, but it’s not convinced. his gaze dips then lifts again, and there’s a flicker of realization that settles in slowly, like pieces clicking into place. his brow then furrowed a little, like he sensed something off.

“you keep— um… looking down there,” he adds innocently, a little unsure, glancing at his lap. "is... is there something on my pants?" his freckled cheeks flush pink, his hands hovering uncertainly as if to check, but he hesitates, too polite to pat himself down in front of you.

your stomach twisted all kinds of ways with a mix of embarrassment, he had no idea whatsoever. biting your lip, you decided to test the waters, voice shaky and quiet. "no, it's not that. it's... um, catch printing." you just blurt out, wanting to move past this.

the bold and suggestive admission hangs there in the air, a little too much for how shy you usually are. it then led directly to the awkward silence that made you unconsciously rub your thighs together due to his unspoken curiosity mirroring your own pervy interest.

izuku blinked, head cocking to the side like a confused puppy. "catch... printing,” he repeats slowly, brows pulling together. “what's that? like, some kind of hero analysis thing?" his tone was so earnest, green eyes wide and curious, making your core clench at how adorably clueless he was about the dirty turn your mind had taken.

you dared to glance at him, only to look away just as quickly. “it’s stupid,” you mutter, shifting on the bed to ease the growing ache between your thighs. “…and not exactly,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

you hesitate, already regretting opening your mouth, but he’s watching you in that intent way of his, like he actually wants to understand. "it's basically when you... sneak a look at a guy's bulge,” you then gesture vaguely. “then guess the size. people rank it, with like letters or whatever. it’s a tiktok thing.”

his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. "rank it? my... dick?" he stammers, a soft chuckle leaving him as his hands drop to his thighs while he looks down at the obvious tent in his sweats and that telling upward arc. you could see it twitch under his gaze, his flustered reaction only fueling your shy, perverted curiosity.

"y-yeah," you admitted, voice breathy and quiet, unable to stop your eyes from flicking back down.

izuku let out another breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but there was a spark in his eyes— flustered, yeah, but intrigued too. he leaned forward a bit, elbows on his knees now, making the bulge more prominent. "so... what'd you rank mine? if you were, uh, catch printing." his voice dropped, a teasing lilt sneaking in despite the blush, like he was testing you back, the unspoken curiosity bubbling up in his awkward smile.

“izuku!” you choked on your words, but the perv in you won over the shyness. "an a," you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. "definitely an a!”

“i’m just asking!” he exclaims, playfully raising his hands defensively. then, he groans softly, flashing a grin as his hips shift involuntarily, the bulge jumping visibly as he hardens fully under your gritted out words. “an a? and what is that, hm?” he bites his lip, his eyes darting to yours with bold curiosity.

the teasing made your breath hitch, heat pooling low in your belly. he was so open about it now, flustered grin turning annoyingly playful. you fidget where you’re sitting, fingers twisting into your lap. “it’s nothing!— i wasn’t seriously—”

“you were,” he interrupts again, this time with a softer tone. “…so,” he begins, his voice now quieter, “when you were looking…” he shifts again as he repositions on the bed. “…were you guessing,” he continues, his voice a bit unsteady as he readjusts, “or were you trying to be certain?”

you blink at him, narrowing your eyes, unsure of where he’s going with this. “because those feel like two different things,” he adds quickly, over-explaining now, but he doesn’t stop. then, after a small pause, he murmurs, “if you were trying to be sure,” his eyes flicking up to meet yours again, “you could’ve just asked.”

izuku then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, tugging just enough to tease the line of dark hair trailing down. "cause if you're that curious about my ‘a-rank’... maybe you should see it for real, confirm the details up close, yeah?”

[kamiflix]

▶︎ Thot Shit (starring . pervy!choso & cuck!gojo)

synopsis . Your new boyfriend realizes you're quite the strange woman. content . afab!reader, established relationship(s), cuckholding, voyeurism, filth, mentions of perv!toji (help idk how he got here), rough sex, a hint of chojo, semi crack fic, masturbation, spit, dirty talk, teasing, creampie, etc.

With your hips working to slam your sloppyyyy pussy down to the thick base of Choso's blushing cock, you had the man an absolute mess of sweat 'n tears beneath you. He should've known from the day he met you that you'd drive him insane, considering you managed to out-perv him.

Though, that was a story he'd dwell on another time since right now he was much too focused on pinning the pads of his fingers into your skin so he could hold you correctly as you rode him like you wanted him to impregnate you or something. He'd never had a woman ride him this good until now. You'd only been dating for a few days, but he swore he was already in lov—

“Oh, and who’s this?” A rather soothing voice enters your bedroom and Choso's body freezes, his grip on you growing impossibly tighter.

When he looks past your sinful frame for a moment, he makes eye contact with some white-haired man who seems to be awfully casual about walking into your bedroom while you're clearly... occupied. Not that he moves to pull out of you or make you stop riding him, though.

“Nngh," You moan sweetly whilst letting the tips of a fresh manicure run down the smooth display of abs beneath you, "This is my new boyfriend Choso.”

Choso's brows furrow slightly and his grip on your hips falters a little as he watches that same man pace into the room as if you're not literally naked and in the middle of fucking someone. Panting, “H-Hahh—are you two like-, r-roommates or something?” He asks you.

The guy that Choso's all curious about comes over to the side of your bed and pulls out a chair from god knows where before nonchalantly taking a seat. Running a noticeably ringed hand through his white hair as he chuckles, “Cute, but no. I’m her husband.” Gojo explains for you.

“Huh.” Choso gapes, cock throbbing inside you in some weird form of shock. Then those dopey brown eyes of his get wide, and he shoots you a panicked look. Huffing, “You didn’t tell me you were married?!”

Instead of reacting to him like any sane woman would in a situation where she's caught cheating on her husband and boyfriend(?) at the same time, you merely tilt your head to the right and snicker. Teasing him as you say, “Mmh, did you jus’ get harder, Cho?”

His chest caves in a little and for some odd reason, none of this newfound information is making him any less horny. Hell, he's still holding onto your hips and guiding you up and down the veiny length of his dick while he stammers, “What? N-No,” before swallowing down a groan as you neatly clench around him. He turns his head over to meet eyes with Gojo and sounds truly apologetic as he puffs, “Hey man, look, m’sorry.”

“What for?” Gojo deadpans with this weird smile on his face, leaning back into the chair he's pulled out for himself and letting his meaty thighs sprawl out.

Your eyes quickly shoot over to the display of his already forming bulge and Choso's left to unintentionally whine as you glide your pussy upwards along the stretching curve of his cock and then squeeze around him again. Struggling to figure out where exactly he should keep his eyes, the brunet exchanges glances back and forth between the both of you before finally managing to reply.

“Uhm, fucking your wife?” He explains in between something short of a grunt.

Gojo's smile widens out across those rosed lips of his before he raises a thin, unconvinced brow, “You don’t sound sorry.” Then those azure eyes of his floats down to where Choso's burried inside you and he notes how the man is helplessly bucking his hips into you—earning the squelchiest sounds from your cunt. “And you’re goin’ faster now despite apologizing.” Your husband points out.

Choso’s face twists up and he can't help but whine, “She feels really fuckin’ good, m’sorry.”

Leaning forward, Gojo tips his head to the side as if to get a better look at how pretty your pussy looks being nice 'n split open by the rude viscosity of Choso's cock. And the curve he had on him... fuck, your husband was able to catch exactly how the man's tip knocked against your cervix—just bullying his poor wife's pretty pussy.

He can't help but palm at the erection he's managed to gain from watching so far, “God, this would be terrible if I wasn’t into this...” He hums.

“Y-Yeah," Choso redirects his attention to the same place that Gojo's eyes have fallen to and his lashes flap over upon seeing the gorgeous globs of your slick getting dragged up and down his shaft as you bounce on him. Barely even coherent as he mumbles, "...Probably would.”

It didn't take a rocket scientist for him to realize your husband happened to be a cuck. And considering how he just started dating you only a few days ago and was only getting harder from being watched by said cuck husband, Choso figures he might just be one too!

At that, and in an honest attempt at not blowing his load too soon, Choso's hips slow down and he goes back to letting you do most of the work.

Of which Gojo notices immediately and scoffs, “Hey, don’t slow down now.” He directs, earning Choso's gaze for a moment. Gojo looks almost disappointed now and challenges the man directly via meeting eyes with him and cocking a brow, “You wanted to fuck my wife, didn’t you? So fuck her.”

A whimper nearly jumps out of Choso's throat and his fat tip kisses somewhere deep inside you—earning a thoughtless moan out of you while he questions Gojo in return, “You’re just gonna... ngh-, watch?”

“Yeahhhh..” Your husband's voice is sleazy by the time he replies considering he had driven his focus elsewhere. Pulling his dick out and messily spitting on the palm of his hand—nice ‘n filthy like he always does whenever you bring in a new boy-toy. “Fuck her real good f’me.”

Before he can do that, you start to angle your body up and lean yourself back, placing your hands behind you and on his thighs so you could fuck yourself stupid on him. This sudden change only makes Choso's head spin whilst he loses his grip on you for a second, grunting, “Shiiiit.” in reaction before he can control himself.

The sound reverberates throughout your bedroom, and the mattress the two of you are mounted on seems to creak and dip deeper inward with your unexpected movements.

“And baby?” Gojo murmurs while lightly rubbing his hand against his drooling, pinkened tip—precum trickling and glistening all the way down to the fat of his achy balls.

You whine as you meet eyes with him and try your best to avoid looking at his cock, “Yes ‘Toru?”

Your husband gives you the prettiest smile before nodding his chin at you, “Let him cum in you this time.”

Choso’s dick twitches further upward and your body nearly flies up some with that forceful rut of his hips. Stuttering out an all too innocent, “W-What?”

Meanwhile, your eyes seem to have lighten up as your rickety hips go to bash down impossibly harder, fucking him right back down after feeling him attempt to do the opposite to you.

Then you clasp your lower lip in between your teeth and bite back a whorish little smile, "Ohmygoddd, finally.” Peering over to your husband and taking one of your tits into your hands to grope, "Thank you, 'Toru." you purr.

Your boyfriend(?)—he's still confused as to what exactly your relationship with him and will become after all this—repeats his actions from earlier and looks back and forth between you both, “Do you two do this—fuck, jus' like thaaat..." He chokes, tugging your body forward to aid your desperately grounding hips and feeling his dick ram all around every corner of your sweet walls," D-Do you two do this often or something?”

“Yes.” The both of you say in a synchronized moan.

After which, Gojo lets out another laugh in between the continuous strokes of his cock. He was trying to match the pace of your pussy swallowing up Choso’s plumpy length, but his voice was getting shakier as he spoke, “Last week I came home to her gettin’ railed by our repair man.... Nngh-, what was his name again, sweetheart? The one that stole your panties after the job? Was it Kento?”

“No, no—mmph! Kento’s my boss." You explain indifferently between your needy bounces, "The repair man for last week was Toji, remember?”

“Oh yeahhhh," Gojo enthuses, his hand growing unintentionally quicker as he thinks back on it, “He left you sore for quite a few days too.”

The way you two are talking about this weird... routine of yours has Choso's face twisting up slightly and a mumbled, “What the fuck…” ghosting past his lips.

Gojo suddenly nods at him while he talks to you, “Where’d you find this one?”

You giggle, “The back of Spencers.” and Choso grimaces, trying to distract himself from your strange conversation as he instead focuses on pounding his nearing release up into your rather noisy hole. It sounded like you were getting wetter from being fucked like this, “He was—s-shit, right thereee, Choso. Good boyyy.” You praise naturally as you look down at him and send him a warm smile. Still going on to continue with your explanation seconds later, “He was groping himself while watchin’ me buy a new toy, I just had to bring him home.”

“Perv.” Gojo says.

Though, you’re not sure if that was directed towards you or Choso.

Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head right after hearing that word and he's groaning shamelessly loud, “Gonna cum.”

“Bet you are,” Your husband teases, steadily thrusting his hips up into his fist, “Mmmh, how full do you think you can leave her?”

“H-Huh?” Your poor boyfriend(?)—seriously can he even call himself that after this?—gasps.

“I wanna fuck some cum out of my wife when you’re done, if you don’t mind." Gojo elaborates with that same, cuck-happy grin on his face again. The head of his dick is already smeared over with a gloss of his creamy seed and he's clearly reaching his own orgasm whilst giving Choso directions, "So make sure to leave a nice ‘n creamy load in there for me, yeah?”

Okay, this had to be the strangest fucking couple Choso’s ever encountered. He doesn't think he'll be coming back after this.

banner art from; "Kubitsuri Danshi to Nikushoku Joshi" || perm general tags (1/2):

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[dotlusional]

baby-trap | midoriya, i.

ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, dubcon, mean!boyfriend!(soft?)dom!izuku :(, fem!afab!sub!reader, established relationship, HEAVY BREEDING KINK, punishment, marathon sex, degradation, rough sex, dumbification, terms of endearment, praise, baby-trapping, over-stimulation, not heavily proof-read

ꉂ ᵎᵎ original a/n: hi ^_^ based off this ask. i wrote this before my japan trip i think

ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n #2: this is a reblog from my old blog

ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: your boyfriend catches you poking holes in condoms... uh oh...

ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: 650~

izuku’s hand in your hair is tight.

you had done something bad. something really bad. correspondingly, your boyfriend — who usually was sweet, gentle, and patient — was mad. or at least with the way you were blubbering into the pillow, you were acting like he was.

“izuku! wait, wait, wait!— i, i’m sorry— oh my god, please—please slow down—“

“shh shh shh,” he cooes simply, your pitiful pleas cut off by the rough repositioning of his thrusts into you from behind. “you can take it, my love. isn’t this what you wanted? poking holes in condoms because you want my babies? huh? all y’had to do was ask. fuck, where did a stupid little thing like you even get the idea of baby trapping me?”

it was a bit hard to remember the exact moment in question that had led you here, even though it had only been a few hours ago. yet somehow, there you were— caught sneaking into his room after excusing yourself to the bathroom during your date, a thumbtack in hand as you went after the stash of condoms hidden in his bedside drawer, and now facing the consequences. had you known your little plan would have ended up like this, you probably would have thought once or twice about going through with it.

“m’sorry,” you sob, toes curling in a mixture of pleasure and agony as he wrung out yet another orgasm from you, “i-i just love you so much, puh-pleaseee don’t be mad...”

the man couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how you were still worrying about the moral wrongness of your actions. if anything bothered him, it probably would've just been the established fact you hadn’t asked him upfront to properly breed you— because who were you to deprive him of the authentic baby-making experience?! thankfully, he was much more than willing to show you exactly his feelings on the matter and even more to pound them into your silly dumb head.

“i’m not mad, baby— we’ve been over this. i’m just trying to be a team player. unlike somebody.” with a grunt, he releases his grip in your hair, a large palm moving to splay itself against your lower back instead. “here— you move and see if the way you do it will get you pregnant or not.”

a heat burns across your cheeks. body trembling, you do as he says, small tearful hisses slipping past your lips as his fat cock drags along your sensitive walls.

“izukuuu,” you ultimately hiccup, “i can't... it's too much...”

your pathetic display only results in the disappointed click of izuku's tongue. “come on— you gotta do better than that, lovely. you think my cum is gonna stick with you doing that? you gotta get it deep.”

the following punctuating thrust catches you off guard, knocking you off balance, and your stomach meets mattress. you're left with barely any time to recover for when his pelvis begins grinding against your ass as he follows your descent, and his ankles hooking around yours as he mocks the mindless moans that escape you doesn't make taking it any easier either.

“oh, oh— do you feel that, baby?” he snickers, “that’s you going to be a mommy by tonight. gonna hafta get married and everything— make you my pretty little wife… never gonna leave you and i’ll make you pregnant like you want alllll the time… does that sound good, sweetheart? huh? can i get an answer?”

you try your best to scramble for answer, mumbling a, “y-yes! yes— please, yes…” in hopes responding speedily would result in him easing up a little. what you get instead is a sloppy kiss to the cheek succeeded by him wiping the drool trickling down your chin with his thumb.

“mm, good girl... one more round then, okay? gotta be thorough about these things.”

[tentypos]

dot new acc

[tentypos]

“BEACHBOY”

a mha college au FEAT. DENKI K.

“and she's on top of me, and it is hot, hot, hot.”

disclaimer; i dont fw mcafferty, at all. but the song is so him.

the fruits of mine and @kamislop ‘s freaksations

mdni. cw: mutual masturbation, they’re practically edating, gooner x gooner, fingering, premature ejaculation, ummm, what else, unprotected sex, does that count as grown folk sex or not, riding for like five minutes, mommy kink (sorry i had to sneak it in there), whiney pathetic denki, so nothing new, bad language, recreational drug use, virgin denki, virgin reader. reader is thick fem coded. this is so meta

wc: 3.9k

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

starting track….

you've never actually met denki kaminari.

which is weird.

because, at this point, he's basically integrated himself into your daily routine.

he's the first person you speak to when you wake up, the last person you message before you go to sleep. the first person you go to text when something happens, small things, big things, bullshit that no one else is going to understand, movie reviews, song recommendations.

you've followed each other for... god, maybe two years now? one of those internet mutual situations. it was either a tiktok comment, or an instagram comment he posted that had you snorting at your screen so hard, you had to follow the guy with the pikachu profile picture, immediately.

always the first person to like your stories, to slide up with stupid reaction gifs, or drooling emojis. and then following it with 5 minute rants about how "this jjk arc is actually about the burden of adolescence", completely serious.

sometimes you’ll post something and before you’ve even locked your phone again—

LMAOOOOO

who pissed you off this time

or

okay but hear me out

followed by the worst take you’ve ever read in your life.

but you reply every time. because his exact ratio of funny to horny is just so perfectly calibrated to your freakquency.

you’ll post a selfie and get:

good lord.

then thirty seconds later:

WAIT WAIT WAIT

i need to rant

and suddenly he’s voice-noting you for four straight minutes about drama inside his friend group.

people you technically know. well. not know know. but know in the way internet mutuals know people. through usernames, blurry instagram stories, occasional re-posts, overheard names.

sero said this, jirou blocked someone, mina got too drunk at a house party, bakugou pushed him down the stairs, again.

and denki relays all of it to you like a disgraced court jester bringing gossip to the queen.

you’ll be brushing your teeth at midnight listening to him say some shit like, “NO because tell me why this grown man started shadowboxing in the function because somebody drank his monster.”

and you’re laughing so hard toothpaste nearly goes down your shirt.

it’s easy with him. so easy. easy to reply, easy to keep talking, easy to accidentally spend three hours discussing whether eren yeager was doomed by narrative structure or just mentally ill.

and then you’ll realise it’s four in the morning and your phone’s on 2%.

and he’s still typing, still there. that little green dot beside his name.

because he's always online. chronically.

you don't think there has been a single moment recorded in history where denki hasn't been within five feet of his phone. he'll snap you back when he's on the toilet, mid shit, phone still clutched in his hands. he'll text when you when he's on the train, replies with typos so bad you can physically hear how fast he was typing. snaps while he's walking home.

so eventually, eventually, obviously, inevitably, the natural progression of things.

he starts sending you voice messages while he's jerking off.

your own personal whimper audio plug.

you can't really remember when that started. actually, no, you can…

he’d just finished the third arc of this anime you recommended and absolutely had to call you at two in the morning to tell you exactly what he thought about it. and you were online anyways, active two minutes ago right there beside your profile picture.

only problem is, someone just happened to be mid goon sesh. vibrator pressed to your clit, toes clenched, sweating under your blankets, thighs drenched in your own slick, room dark except for the glow of your phone screen.

you're still not really sure what possessed you to press accept on his call, and you're even less sure why you continued to pleasure yourself with him rambling down the phone.

maybe it was the confidence that comes with anonymity, the fact that he doesn't know you in real life. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the fact he actually listened to you, watched the things you recommended, came back wanting your opinions like they matter, like you matter.

or maybe he's just… easy to listen to? warm, animated, endearing. the soothing tone of his voice, of him snickering at his own jokes.

“…right? like i’m not saying he was justified, but if that happened to me i probably would’ve done worse.... what d’you think?”

“i—” your voice catches, badly. you bite down hard on your lip, trying to stifle your moans, “umm—ngh—sorry, what?”

there’s immediate shuffling on his end.

“oh shit,” denki backtracks quickly. “sorry, were you asleep? fuck, my bad dude, just call me back in the morning—”

"no!" you reply, too fast, too desperate, you fucking— what the fuck is wrong with you, “no... s’fine. just… keep talking.”

there's a beat, a pause, and then, "oh, uhhh, okay...?" he continues on, rambling, but his voice is lower, slower, calmer, like he’s suddenly hyper-aware of every sound coming through the phone.

finally, he throws in the towel, bites the bullet.

“…sorry— you can literally kill me if i’m wrong but… are you—”

he coughs, awkwardly.

“are you touching yourself?”

god.

you really should've lied.

should've hung up the phone, messaged him back in the morning, or something, literally anything else.

but, ohhh, you didn't even care at that point. your orgasm already building hot under your skin and there was something strangely intoxicating about the fact he could tell, that he was even listening close enough to notice.

“yeah,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself. “yeah… i’m playing with myself.”

your voice wrecked in a way denki had never heard before.

he’s quiet now, fuck, fuck, fuck, you blew it.

he’s probably cut the call, gonna tell all his friends what a weirdo you are, maybe post a story-time on his close friends about the pervy girl rubbing herself while on the phone to him.

but… the humiliation of him finding out doesn’t derail you from the path of pleasure you’re already walking down, and although you’d never admit it, it probably makes it hotter. you might as well finish, you can wallow in your self-pity tomorrow.

the vibrations sound louder now that you’re not being a self conscious freak. you’re whimpering softly while the buzzing echoes against the slick running down your thighs, wet and muffled beneath the blankets.

you can hear it.

so can denki.

“is that—” he swallows, and you flinch in surprise at his voice suddenly coming through the receiver again, but you don’t bother slowing down. “is that…is that your pussy? that—that noise?”

what noise, the bzzz-bzzz-squelch-squelch? is he serious, “what else would it be?”

“i don’t— i dunno, it just…” he stumbles over the words. “it just sounds so… so wet.”

“mhmmm,” yeah, yeah it really does sound so wet, doesn’t it.

“does it always get like that?”

“mhmmm.”

a shaky breath crackles through the phone.

and then,

“w-wish i could see.”

what?

what?

oh.

you almost sigh in real time, what did you even have to worry about? did you forget this is denki, denki kaminari, the same freak who once said he would 'fuck your armpit' as a 'joke.'

the thought barely settles before you finally notice another sound leaking through the phone.

rhythmic. wet.

fap-fap-fap.

you still immediately, fingers curling around your little bullet vibe to switch it off. were you seriously so distracted you didn’t notice? didn’t hear this, didn’t hear him?

the wet schilcks of his hand working his cock, "wish i could see—no- wish i c-could-could touch it—nngggh-oh fu-uck—wish i could-hck!- wish i could fuckin’ taste you."

worse than you, oh, he's waaaay worse than you.

“w-wish you were here,” his voice crackles through the receiver alongside another ruined, greedy, sound. “wish you could see how messy i got—”

“denki—”

“fuuuck,” he whines softly. “say my name again, please. please, i’m—”

“denki, you’re so gross.”

“hah— shiiit, yeah,” he sounds obscene, like he can barely get the words out, “that’s the stuff.”

and seriously? already? because you've barely been on the phone for five minutes, there's no way he got this bad, that quickly. but you can’t deny how much it makes your pussy throb.

“yeah i'm gross, but you're worse, you started it.”

and that was the start of it, and i wish i could say it ended there.

but it didn’t.

because even freaks get tired of e-sex at some point.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

it took a while for you guys to get to this point.

months of voice messages and facetimes, of teleparty and shared playlists, of beefing each other in comment sections and thirsting in dms.

and for denki, it all led to this moment.

your bedroom feels too warm.

his trainers are abandoned messily by your door beside your tote bag. one of your hoodies hangs off the back of your desk chair. fairy lights glow dim amber against the walls, mixing with the bluish light of your laptop screensaver bouncing around the dark room.

everything smells faintly like vanilla, fabric softener, and the weed the two of you smoked an hour ago with your bedroom window cracked open.

his hands shake.

so inexperienced and yet, so eager to please, they gently grope every inch of your body.

you never really enjoyed having your chest played with all that much, but there’s something about how denki’s heavy palm massages the underside of your tit, like he’s trying to unlock something, or explore.

and then his thumb brushes over your nipple, a shock to your system, you arch forward into his touch, body moving on auto pilot.

god, he wants to see you do it again.

he's dreamt about this, about this exact moment, for weeks. every stray thought, every dirty dream, you've plagued him.

mmmmm, and your body is so warm, and soft. inviting. his hands grip the flesh of your thighs, the fat bulging around his fingertips, the softness of your skin, right here, right here in front of him, not through a screen or part of a picture.

holy shit.

he really can’t take it.

because he's jerked off to the thought of you for so long, he's milked himself dry to the sound of your voice, he's wrung his cock to your smile, he's edged himself to the idea of what your hair would smell like, what your skin would feel like.

nutted all over his phone screen, humped his hand for hours.

he never thought he would even get the opportunity to meet you in real life, let alone be allowed into your bedroom, let alone have you underneath him, in nothing but panties and a fucking t-shirt.

he's literally trembling, his palms sweating as he grips you again, harder, firmer, like this is a dream, like if he blinks too much he might wake up, and he'll be back in his bed making a mess all over himself, another late-night fantasy while he’s half-delirious and horny, just like usual.

“denki, hey, dude, are you… good?”

but he's not at home, he's not in his bed, this isn't a wet dream, he's not gonna wake up to bakugou breaking his door down and telling him to take out the trash.

he shakes his head with a smile, “yeah, yeah, i'm good— sorry, i'm out of it.”

you’re definitely hiding it better, but you’re equally nervous.

so fucking nervous. you nearly cancelled last night because of how badly your stomach had twisted itself up. was he even gonna like you? would he still think you’re hot, even in real life? you barely slept, up all night thinking about what he was expecting, and whether you would meet those expectations.

if he knew how you were feeling, he probably would’ve slapped you or something. because this is better. this is so much better. so much better than dreaming or imagining, even now, the way you’re smiling up at him, glasses slipping down your nose, pretty eyes focused on him, and what he’s doing, and if he’s feeling okay.

you’re so perfect.

and he has to make you feel good, he needs to.

you spent the last two hours, half watching something on your laptop, and half making out.

and…

that was life changing.

it’s so indescribable, he still feels dizzy from it. how you felt in his lap, the warm heat of your body consuming his very being. the feeling of your tongue down his throat, his hands around your neck, your lips against his, he almost came, just like that, just from a little kissing.

can you really blame him.

it was so good.

but this is about to be better.

it's so easy for you to melt into him. maybe it's the nervous energy radiating off of him that calms your own nerves. you've always been that kind of person, quick to accommodate to other people’s needs, in tune with their feelings.

and denki wears his heart on his sleeve. he's easy to read, an open book. also his face is flushed a beautiful pink, he's panting, breathing heavily into your mouth, pupils blown wide every time you touch him.

so you kiss him again, just to relax him of course, certainly not because you're craving the feeling of him against you, his shirtless torso pressed flush against your chest.

it works though, he defrosts, relaxes, nearly crumples against you, against the soft swell of your chest, his hands snaking down the sides of your body, fingers dipping underneath the fabric and fuck, are you really—“this soft everywhere?”

you hum at his question, then quickly realise he's talking to himself, hypnotised by the feeling of your flesh, he has to be dreaming because there is actually no way you're really, “—so fuckin' soft, oh my god.”

he's still stuck on that? you click your tongue, as much as you would love to explore each other bodies in this PG-13 way, you've soaked yourself through your panties. maybe you're the real pervert, he's having a wonderful time just touching your skin, and all you're thinking about is how badly you want him inside you.

you do it yourself.

slip a hand in the gap between your bodies, your nervous, virgin, freaked out, bodies, and slide your fingers below the hem of your underwear. you barely graze your outer lips before he's snatching your hand, a little too rough, a little too hungry. he loosens his grip almost immediately but holds your gaze, “please, please let me do it, i promise it'll be good,” his thumb strokes nervously against the inside your wrist, “i— i'll be careful, i'll be gentle with you, i swear.”

who are you to say no? how could you, not when his hands slide down your thighs with gentle reverence, not when he clutches the hem of your panties like he's afraid he'll hurt them.

never mind, he can't do it.

he has to close his eyes, he can't look, can't watch the way your pussy juice clings to the fabric. he peeks open an eyelid, then closes it again. his heart is beating so fast he might throw up.

“denki, babe,” babe??? he nearly screeches, his eyes flutter open again, the faint smile that's painted on your face makes him spurt a tad, you really are perfect, “just breathe, okay, it's fine, you're doing great.”

you really have a way with words, because that kicks him into overdrive, he slips the fabric down so it pools around your knees, and, and, and he—

let’s out a strangled whimper when he sees your puffy pussy lips, drenched in your own slick.

“did i—” he swallows, panting, “did i do this t’you?” eyes transfixed on your trembling cunt. he drags a single finger through the mess, through your slick, until the digit is coated. hisses out a curse when he retracts the finger and there’s a string of your arousal that clings to it.

your arousal, your pussy, your fucking pussy, “g-god,” he slurs around the finger, licking up every last drop of you, and then inhaling deeply, the scent of your pussy making his eyes roll back into his head.

how has he come all this way, just to slurp your mess off of his finger and hump your mattress.

he has to pull it together.

but you’re making it so difficult.

“d'you know," a strangled groan cuts him off and he gulps, "d'you know, how often i’ve dreamt about this, it—”

he's using you like a fidget toy, two fingers dragging through your slick, drawing patterns, somewhat, mostly assessing the area. what makes you flinch, what makes you gasp, what makes you grip his shoulders with both your hands and beg him to keep going.

you dig your nails into him, while he traces your pulsing labia, the calluses of his fingertips trailing a path across your pussy, there's no way his cock can go in there, inside you, inside your mushy gummy walls, that are clenching around his fingers, there's no way he can go in there and come out alive. you'll strangle him to death and he'll never want to leave.

"she's so pretty," as he stares, absolutely mesmerised at the wetness coating his palm as his fingers scissor open your pussy. “so, fucking, pretty.”

and you’re really not making it any better for him, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, his hands feel so much better than your own. you let him know, verbally, but also with how your eyes glaze over, how your breathing stutters, how you lift your legs to wrap around him, to keep him there.

the pressure of your thighs pushes him further into your mattress, and there’s a spark of delicious, addicting, friction that catches him. causes him to twitch against you, crash his mouth into yours, sharing each other’s whimpers.

you can’t go on like this, you try to open your mouth, to speak, to tell him to hurry up and stick his fucking dick in you already. but he doesn’t let you, he’s already lost, of course he is.

the weakest, most pathetic humps, his crotch positioned perfectly in between your legs but also resting on the bed below. so when he grinds his hips down there’s a shock that travels up his spine, but your bodies are close enough that he if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s actually fucking you.

denki’s such an idiot.

your pussy right there, he’s literally cupping your warmth with his palm, fingers prodding against your g-spot, and yet all he can do is imagine, slip off into a daydream where he’s fucking you for real.

and you have a feeling that if you don’t do something to snap him out of it right now, he’d spend the whole night doing just that. pretending to fuck you in his head, while you’re right there, right here, squirming underneath him.

he’s lucky you think he’s cute.

“denki, baby…”

he inhales like he’s just been dunked into a tub of ice water, his eyes snap up from where they’d spiralled over watching his fingers disappear inside you, the creamy slick coating the digits, the heat, the—

“denki?”

“hmm?” god he’s so hot, and still so fucking adorable, he’s pouting like you’ve pulled him away from something important.

“don’t you wanna… put it in?”

put it in? put it in? put what in— oh, oh right. of course, of course he does, but his eyebrows raise like he didn’t realise that was an option.

he fumbles one handed, nearly knocks himself over in his haste to undo his belt, fucking stupid belt, the clasp gets stuck and he, fuck it’s fine, it’s all good, he’s so normal about this.

you motion like you’re about to offer assistance, then his cock springs out, slaps against his stomach and…

oh, oh, the poor thing.

flushed, angry at being ignored, bright pink, and leaking. leaking all over his abs, all over his stomach, the inside of his jeans, the inside of his boxers.

fucking hell.

you nearly start laughing, not mocking, more like, when you’ve been sat at a restaurant for so long, hungry, waiting, for ages, and then they finally bring the food out, and it’s so:

yummy.

that’s it.

you pounce on him like he’s prey, practically manhandle him into laying flat on his back, and clamber over his thighs, your legs bracketing his hips.

and denki moans like a fucking whore.

“oh, holy shit,” his hands twitch like he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to touch you, but he really can’t stop running his mouth like, “you’re gonna—gonna ride me- oh, pleasepleaseplease—”

his voice cracks right down the middle when you finally, finally, sink down.

shit, it is a stretch, despite how long he spent playing with your cunt, but it’s so fucking delicious, mhmmm, you both feel it, the drag of his weeping veiny cock sweeping along the walls of your pussy.

and for the first time all night, he’s quiet.

dead silent.

you think his nose might start bleeding.

his lips, bitten, chapped, parted, rushed puffs of air leaving his body, eyes rolled back into his head, then fluttering, like his soul is being exorcised.

the dam breaks.

“is it— is it supposed to feel like this?” he’s delirious, cloudy eyed and drunk, “holy shi-iiit—can't believe it feels this good.”

he grips your thighs, tight enough to leave bruises, and whimpers when you grind down against him and your tits bounce, right in his fucking face.

“edged myself for th-three days,” he confesses as he drools into your skin, he can't look you in the eye, he presses his mouth against your chest and murmurs, “saved up so much cum for you, all for you.”

“can you feel me, all the way inside.” he presses down on your lower stomach, the pressure makes your toes curl, “c-can’t believe i’m inside you, can’t believe you let me—oh, oh, fuck, wait, don’t—”

don’t what? don’t clench around his cock. don’t clamp down on him with your hot gummy walls. don’t pull him back in when he tries to move. how are you supposed to do that?

“gonna— gonna give you so much cum,” small, sloppy semi-upward thrusts, he can't even move properly, just humping up against you like a dog, “m'gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you up— m-make you feel so fucking good—”

he's slurring, drunk off your pussy, drunk off you, “i hafta— hafta, m-m-make— good, gonna be good— gonna be a good boy."

suddenly he's spilling into you, ropes and ropes, of milky white nut, flooding your pussy, filling you to the brim.

but he doesn't stop moving.

in fact, you don’t know how he mustered up the strength after that pathetic display, but he flips you over, so you’re underneath him again, hisses when his cock slips out, still so fucking hard, still dribbling, one hand gripping your thigh, the other rubbing circles on your clit.

“i c-can keep going— can't stop, not 'till you cum too, i promise, i p-promise i'll keep going mommy.”

overstimulation tears through him, his nerves are fried, but still he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't give himself a minute to catch his breath. just his cock, hammering into you, drilling into your pussy, “keep—ngh-keep going, gotta k-k-keep going…”

you're in for a long night.

… end of playback.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

@kamislop @dotalicious @lonelyfooryouonly @tsushimimi @tokkushin

this is a mixtape madness fic, drop a request and i’ll get back to you:

[tentypos]

“HOT DOG”

a mha college au feat. DENKI K. & HANTA S.

“ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the chocolate starfish, and the hot dog flavoured water…. BRING IT ON!”

mdni

cw: “HELP!! MY BESTFRIEND WANTS ME TO SUCK HIS DICK SO HE CAN RECORD IT AND SEND IT TO HIS SITUATIONSHIP?!”

wc: 2k

starting track….

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

…….

“dude, you’re fumbling with the thing—”

“—i’m not, s’literally fine—”

“you’re gonna— you’re gonna smudge the cam— oh my god—”

“shit, i dropped it, hold on….”

“…you’re a fuckin’ mess.”

“me?! i’m the mess??? this was your idea.”

sero snatches his phone back from his bestfriend with a half-scoff half-snort. it was a bad idea asking denki to do this, the guy never takes anything seriously.

not that this is serious.

this, this is the funniest thing of the century.

this, this is him proving how fucking petty he can be.

because you, oh god, you’ve been taking the piss. ignoring his messages, acting like you don’t know him when he sees you in public, posting another guy on your story. really? and the dude wasn’t even all that.

he had to get his lick back, obviously.

but he has to be smart about this.

posting himself with a girl wouldn't do anything other than push you further away, and while he does enjoy your little games. he does actually, sorta-kinda like you.

he needed something, something good, something smart, something to make you jealous, but also hot, bothered, and horny.

how could he pass up an opportunity like this, a gift from above, or below, however you wanna look at it, in the form of denki kaminari.

because you're aware, he told you himself, offhandedly, about how he and denki used to fuck. not heavy, just two bisexual best friends, down on their luck, fried as shit, sometimes denki's dick in his mouth was just the natural progression of things, he can't help that.

but he remembers what you had said in reply.

“that's hot.”

and he was tickled, ego stroked, he prodded you further, because what exactly is the hot part, him, denki, both of them together? and you, in your own words said you wouldn't mind watching.

something about, yaoi, hentai, and something else about heated rivalry, and something else that he wasn't fucking listening to, because he was already filing this away for later.

you wouldn't mind watching.

but you’re not here. in fact, he hasn’t seen you for weeks, he thinks you might be mad at him for something he forgot about.

but just because you're not here doesn't mean he's just gonna fuck his fist, and mope about. not when his roommate is the denki kaminari.

the camera flips around.

they’re in hanta’s room, low blue lighting, nu metal on the speaker, loud enough to mask the noise they’re about to make, but not loud enough to distract from the task at hand.

denki’s leaned against the headboard, face lit by the blue light of his phone, probably scrolling on reels.

because sero was right. denki is not taking this seriously, at all. because this is stupid, you and hanta always fight like this, and he has to hear all about sero’s new ‘get back plan’ every fucking time.

at least this time he gets a good fuck out of it.

“hey princess,” the blonde says when he realises the camera’s facing him now. he throws a lazy peace sign at sero’s phone with a grin.

yeah, he’s gonna get a good fuck out of this.

he can already tell. sero came to him with an ‘idea’ which was just cornering him in the kitchen and pressing his boner into the crease of denki’s ass and murmuring lowly in his ear, asking him to come up to his room and ‘help him out with something’.

if he had known then, that he was about to make a sex tape with his bestfriend, he would've oiled up for the camera.

instead he's shirtless, hair tousled, the corner of his shitty sonic tattoo poking out from under his waistband, and emoting like a dickhead.

just before he can do one last bicep flex, the camera flips back round to sero. eyebrow raised in distaste, the piercing catches the flash of the phone, he's rolling his eyes and scratching the corner of his nose.

"anyway," hanta clears his throat, slips back into that stupid fake nonchalant tone he gets when he’s sending you voice messages, “i remember you said you were into that whole ‘yaoi' thing.”

he snorts, like he's mocking you, "me n' denks were gonna bang, so, i figured," he's collapses onto the bed next to denki with no grace or care for where he lands, you can hear denki complain in the background. "why not show you what you're missing?"

he grabs the blonde by the face, squishing his cheeks with his palms and drags his face into the picture. both of 'em cheesing at the phone, with matching hazy eyes and drooping smiles. like ying and yang with equal degrees of swag and stupidity across them both.

denki runs his tongue across his teeth, he’s been waiting for sero to do something for a minute, to touch him, to touch himself, a kiss, anything.

instead sero’s still fumbling with his phone, trying to figure out where’s he’s gonna put it to get the perfect angle.

and denki’s tired of waiting.

“dude,” the blonde’s voice is lower now, softer, two steps away from a whisper. “dude, dude— hanta.”

there’s a shiver that snakes it’s way up sero spine when he hears denki say his name. it’s weirdly intimate, in a way it’s not normally. it scratches an itch somewhere deep in his gut.

denki sighs again, impatient, borderline pouting at the lack of attention. but his gaze is heavy lidded, and his voice is syrupy. “just hold it for now, you can put it down later.”

and sero’s easy. they both know this. that’s why denki takes it upon himself to crawl over to where his best friend is still sat on the edge of the bed.

“you’re thinking ‘bout this too much,” he winks at the camera, hands running up and down the faded material coating hanta’s thighs.

as he curls his fingers around hanta’s waistband, nails gently tracing the exposed skin, “let’s just do what we normally do.”

hanta’s disembodied groan echoes, “yeaaah—ngh, yeah,” denki palming his erection through the fabric, “yeah, you’re so fuckin’ right.”

denki smirks at the shaking camera, because he knows, whenever you watch this, that you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

he traces the tip of hanta’s weeping cock through the fabric, softly, barely there, so easily pulling groans out from his friend. it’s so easy to get sero worked up, a bat of your eyelashes, the promise of a blowjob, he’s already half way to busting.

“hanta,” denki coos again. coy. so fucking coy. batting his pretty eyelashes with that doe-eyed look on his face, of course sero was a goner. the camera is visibly shaking from where he’s trying to keep the screen tilted. the blonde paws at his waistband, “lemme suck you off, real quick, i promise.”

what’s a guy to do?

fuck, he can’t do anything. except gulp, audibly. and nod his head like an overeager puppy.

but denki wants to have fun, why not. isn’t this supposed to be a show, a show for you, something sweet to wash out the bitter taste of the toxicity of your ‘relationship’ with hanta, in the first place.

“that’s not an answer,” slow, syrupy, as he licks his lips, eyes directed at hanta through the phone screen. he’s gone back to featherlight touches.

you both know sero loves this the most.

the build-up, the steady climb upwards. and every breath, every stutter, every sigh, every moan, in between then and now, he inhales all of it. almost like he enjoys this more than actually getting his nut. the act of dangling the pleasure in front of his face, just out of reach but so easily obtainable.

“m’sorry,” he exhales, eyes fluttering at the mere idea of denki’s mouth on his cock, “wan’ you t’suck my—fu-uck—”

shit, he would’ve dropped his phone if not for the burning desire for you to see this too, because denki’s mouth is like velvet.

the fleshy walls of his inner cheeks coax thick dribbles of pre-cum out of hanta’s throbbing cock. that perfect fuckin’ tongue of his glazes the underside in hypnotic waves, and all hanta can do is sit there and take it, let denki make a mess outta him.

it feels disgustingly good as the blonde pools his saliva and spits it right back onto him, that hanta can’t help but whine, low in the back of throat.

it’s a shame you can’t see his face. the way he tips his head back exposing the deep flush that blooms underneath the hickeys layering the column of his throat. his eyes, dark, dazed, and actively rolling back into his head, then fluttering closed, automatic, the puppet strings of his pleasure being pulled taut.

but you’d be able to hear how he hisses, “shii-it,” you’d be able to hear the pants pattering within his lungs increasing in volume every second, and the broken groans echoing in his chest with each bob of denki’s head.

you’d definitely get a clear view of denki. you’d see his mouth stretched around the base of hanta’s cock, bulge pressing against his cheek, visible from the outside, nose flush against the dark hair of his crotch.

and you know exactly what that smells like, if you inhaled now you’d probably still get notes of it. of that musk, the sweet sweat, that thing that is so uniquely hanta, that you could recognise with your eyes closed.

unlike denki, who’s dewey eyes are half lidded and fixed directly onto the camera. he’s a show off, he can’t help it, it just comes naturally to him at times like this. he might be laying it on a bit thick, swollen lips glistening with spit and jizz, eyelashes wet like lily stalks after rainfall. tears beading in his water line. the soft pout on his face as he slaps hanta’s cock against his lips, again, and again, and again.

but the dick-drunk daze in his eyes is real enough.

enough to let you know, whenever you do watch this, that denki’s cock is probably just as leaky as hanta's. in fact, if you're paying attention, you'd be able to see the way his hips roll, ever so slightly, and the friction making his mouth water. every subtle shift is just another drag of his cock against, either hanta's mattress, or, plainly, the material confining him.

either way, it's hot as fuck.

hanta seems to think so, "t-that's it, yeah, all the way into-nngh, shit, just. like. that."

deeper and deeper, all the way down into denki's throat, all the way down—

and that's where the picture goes black. muffled. fuck.

lucky for hanta.

because i doubt he'd want you to hear how wrecked he sounded, how animalistic. or see the primal instincts that caused him to grab denki's hair with both palms, white knuckled grip, and breed his throat. or watch him lose all composure as he forces the blonde to swallow every last drop.

and i doubt denki would've wanted you to see the way he limply accepted it, came back for seconds even, licking up every last spurt of his best friend's frothy cum. or the way he whimpered pathetically when he matched pace, and made a mess all over himself.

or the way he said thank you, afterwards.

or how hanta had grabbed him by the face and yanked the blonde back down on top of him. or how their mouths mashed together, hanta slurping the remanets of his own cum from the crevices of denki's mouth.

and i seriously doubt either one would've wanted you to see the electric current of overstimulation that phased through them both, after their sticky spent cocks made contact, in matching, delicious, pathetic humps.

or the way they spent the next twenty minutes torturing each other with the sensation, twitchy bodies and dazed grins.

…end of playback

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

ermmm… haiiiii thank you for waiting 🫪

@dollybabygirly @blueheavenmilkshake @kamislop @dhyuns @rumisgf @scarletgremlin @mymixedupfandoms @lilszier @zmbkats @bussdownflockiana @juliethhhh @salixeris @cattleqtie @realbadgyalll @sinister-italian-music @tokkushin @dotalicious

[tokkushin]

TEHEHEHEHEHEHE IT'S HERE

[tokkushin]

SECRET QUIRKS & NAUGHTY PERKS!

pairing: (timeskip) pervy!prohero izuku x fem!reader

summary: Izuku Midoriya is the perfect neighbour - kind, helpful, and dangerously attractive. But is it true that the most innocent ones hide the dirtiest secrets?

wc: 5.3k!

warnings: lots of talk about underwear, masturbation (m), horny thoughts, panty stealing, he puts a pair in his mouth, brief choking, oral (f!receiving,), fingering, clothed sex, unprotected sex, cum fetish, restraining, teasing, praise, she wears underwear after he cums in them... yeah, brief neito monoma slander lolllz

credits to @/hornetpills on X for the banner!

Laundry day.

Possibly, the most dreaded part of your week. Trudging down to the apartment's basement laundry room every Wednesday and Saturday felt like a punishment. The rows of humming machines, harsh fluorescent lighting and the faint smell of detergent clinging to the air. 

Lately, though, there had been one thing that made it all a little more tolerable.

A certain green-haired pro hero.

Izuku Midoriya. 

Your neighbour from across the hall … and dangerously hot.

You've seen him around the building a few times, never really having too many chances to talk to him aside from when you run into him in the basement.

He lived a quiet life, totally different from the side of him the world sees. The only people you'd ever seen filtering through his apartment were his mother and some of his high school friends.

He was well-known in the building, and he definitely brought the establishment a good name - the kind of person to carry groceries for neighbours, or treat the building staff to dinner as a thank you. It seemed like hero duty never really stopped for him, even when he was off the clock.

Yet even someone so perfect can hold secrets so shameful.

Today was one of those not-so-dreadful days.

You chose to go downstairs later than usual in hopes of not running into the man. Work was kicking your ass, already running late to an important meeting at the agency. The bags under your eyes would be noticeable to anyone, even if they were standing 20 feet away. And although you're sure an interaction with Izuku Midoriya might make your day a little better, you wouldn't want to be caught dead looking like this. 

But of course, the universe had different plans.

"C'mon, please," you huff. You're on your knees in front of the machine, the loud noises echoing repeatedly, as if it were angry. Frustrated, you settle on choosing a different one. The sounds of the former still playing in the distance.

Before you can make it to the next one, you feel your body collide with something. The hard force sends your freshly washed clothes tumbling to the floor. You groan at the sight of multicoloured fabrics covering the ground, heat rushing to your cheeks before you bend to pick them up. 

A scarred hand reaches out at the same time as you, fingers brushing as you pick up the articles.

Just great. And of course, he's caught you on the worst possible day.

"I'm really sorry," he says, placing the clothes back into your basket. 

You watch as he picks the items off the floor, each piece slightly more provocative than the last. A faint blush covers his cheeks as he picks up the last piece on the ground, a green ball of lace sitting between his fingers. You try to ignore how he holds them for a moment longer than the rest before you snatch them out of his hands, shoving them to the bottom of your basket.

"No, it was my fault, I didn't see you there," you say, standing up awkwardly with your laundry basket resting on your hip. Your gaze finds the pile of now dirty clothes resting in your arms. 

He notices the slight gloss in your eyes, shoulders raised and arms fidgeting with the plastic basket. You've never been the most talkative type, but he can tell the usual whimsy you carry is missing today.

"Looks like I'll have to wash these again," you giggle, hoping to break the awkward silence and calm your racing heart. Silently, your mind is spiralling. The clock on the wall mocks you with every tick, your boss's voice growing louder and louder in your head. When he stays quiet, you're certain he's thinking that you're a total mess. 

"I can wash them," he says.

You blink at him, a small hesitation before you speak.

"Are you sure? I can always do it when I come back," you question.

"No, no. It was my fault anyway, so please, I insist. If you stop by my apartment after work, I can have it ready for you," he says, bright smile plastered on his face. He doesn't leave much room for debate, taking the hamper from your hands and making his way towards an empty machine. 

Eyes fixed on his back, you watch as he throws your clothes and his into an empty machine. The appliance is surprisingly much more obedient for him than it's ever been for you. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"O-ok. Yeah, thank you. I'll come by tonight," you say, your words rushed, legs already guiding you to the exit. The clock's ticking fades into the background as you ascend, green hair disappearing in the distance. You don't hear his response as you rush up the stairs, worries long forgotten, and your mind already shifting to the next task that awaits you. 

As soon as the door shuts, Izuku feels his shoulders drop. His hands coming up to cover his face as he feels heat spread throughout his body. He finds a seat in the corner of the room, thighs pressed together tightly as he tries to ignore the growing sensation.

You live in the apartment across from him. Your door is constantly decorated for the nearest holiday, and the sweet scent of baked goods and vanilla drifts through the cracks and into his complex. You leave dog treats for the neighbours' pets, water bottles, and granola bars neatly arranged on a little stool in the hallway.

It was hard not to know who you were, and he's never considered that a problem before. Until knowing so little about you stopped feeling like enough. 

Subconsciously, he started seeking out more chances to see you, timing his laundry trips so they lined up perfectly with yours. Over time, the two of you would fall into easy conversation in the basement laundry room, passing the hours talking about things like work or the current hero rankings. And slowly, it became his favourite part of the week.

And not just for the conversations the two of you shared. Especially not today.

He's always been proud to be a pro hero, helping people was his pride and joy. So, when he finds himself getting hard just at the sight of your underwear, the guilt is immense. Every time he sees you, he can't help but be infatuated, studying every blink, every twitch, the way your tongue brushes along your teeth.

He's not sure why you've got such a hold on him.

It was unethical. He knew that. What would the world think about the current #2 pro-hero imagining such suggestive things about an innocent civilian?

The creaking of the stairs pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. Mrs. Tadashi, the elderly lady from two floors up, graces him with a small, warm smile.

"Could you help me with my laundry, dear?" she asks, arms already reaching out to steady herself.

He ignores the way his heart races, moving to her side in aid, grateful for the distraction as he tries to mask the flush creeping across his cheeks.

…

Work was brutal. You somehow survived the day after being completely chewed out by your boss. Your head is pounding, even the soft click of your apartment door closing reverberating through your skull. 

Before you let yourself get too comfortable, the interaction with the pro floods back into your mind. 

Of course, the one time you're looking and feeling your worst is when you run into him. The thought of your clothes scattered on the laundry room floor, the way he blushed at the sight of your panties - makes heat rush through your body.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face, suppressing the thought as you head to his door.

The first time you knock, you're met with silence. The only sound was small groans from the other side of the door. 

'Maybe he's working out,' you think.

After a few more knocks, the door swings open, and the green-haired man is standing intimidatingly close to you. You can't resist the way your eyes trail over his body, realizing that he's not anywhere near as put together as he looked before. 

Hair dishevelled, and his face flushed light pink. His abs are on display, boxers peeking out from the waistline of his sweats. If he was working out, he definitely didn't look nearly sweaty enough for the amount of noise he was making a moment ago. 

He notices you're staring, clearing his throat before asking you to step inside while he grabs the clothes from his room.

"Sorry! Hope I didn't bother you…" You trail off, eyes wandering as you take in the sight of his apartment. It's modern. Sleek. The All Might posters and figurines on the shelf are the only real pop of colour. 

Well, that, and something else.

On the arm of his couch rests a small mound of green decorated with small flowers, a white substance barely visible on the material. 

Your face flushes as soon as you see it. You did not just walk in on your neighbour having sex, did you? 

As he returns to you, laundry basket in hand, the floral scent of the dryer sheets fills your senses.

"Here you g-"

"Thanks!" you say, cutting him off, grabbing the basket and heading out the door, "promise I won't make a habit of this. Enjoy your night!" you yell, door shutting in his face, leaving him at the entrance, both confused and flustered. 

You dump your clothes onto your bed, folding them before putting them in their rightful place. You've been at this for an hour now, since the interaction with Midoriya. Constant excuses popping up in your mind for what could describe the scenario.

Maybe he was just working out, or maybe he'd pulled a muscle. Maybe he spilled something on the couch and used a lace towel to clean it up?

That last one didn't seem too likely.

…

Where the fuck was it?

Your clothes that were once so neatly folded now covered the floor as you rifled through drawers and laundry baskets. 

You've never been the type to dress up just for a man, of course not. But even you deserved to feel nice after the week you'd had. Nothing wrong with wanting to wear nice panties on a first date, right?

The only problem is, they're nowhere to be found.

Your favourite pair. The only pair in your closet you'd ever justify spending over fifty dollars on. It had your initials embroidered on the waistband in white lettering, contrasting with the black lace of the fabric. It was an impulse buy on a random night, your best friend flaunting a matching pair. It didn't cover much, but that was sort of the point.

You'd taken a load down to the laundry room earlier today with Midoriya, having gotten a little closer to the green-haired man since your last interaction. It was possible that it got mixed with your other clothes, though it was highly unlikely. And weirdly enough, this hadn't been the first time things had disappeared for no real reason.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck.

His hand freezes around his length, the material wrapped around his fingers suddenly falling to the floor. 

Knock. Knock. 

A soft call of his name came from the hallway.

He stumbles to the door, stuffing the fabric into his pants pocket. 

When he opens the door, you're standing there. A small smile sits on your face, eyes bright as you look up at him.

His gaze drops to your outfit before he can stop himself. The way the dress hugs each curve as if it were made for you. The way your breasts spill just over the top of the material, thighs exposed, and the curve of your ass visible to the naked eye.

He's never seen you like this, and he's not sure if he should be anxious or horny.

"You going out?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him, as he leans against the door. His mind races as he waits for your answer, hoping, praying that maybe you were just overdressed for a night out with friends. He tries to hide the way his smile falters, fists tightening at the thought.

"Yeah, just some guy from work I met the other day. Which brings me to why I'm here, actually," you start, eyes inspecting his face. "I'm missing this … thing from my closet, and I just wanted to know if maybe it got mixed up with your stuff a few weeks ago." 

He blinks. Green eyes squinting before he speaks.

"Oh? Well, you'll need to be a bit more specific…" he starts, scratching at the back of his neck. What you do miss is the way his heart pounds in his ears, his stomach twisting as he awaits your answer. 

You hesitate before you respond.

"Well, it's a little embarrassing, but I'm missing a pair of… unmentionables."

"Unmentionables?"

"Mhm," you hum.

"You mean, like underwear?

"Something like that," you start, the embarrassment of your request suddenly hitting you like a freight train. 

"Uh-huh… Well, what's it look like? Describe it to me," he hums, smiling at the way your thighs clench at the thought of the fabric. You roll your eyes at his question, annoyed at how he seems amused by your embarrassment. The question hangs between you two in a beat of silence.

"Well, it's black," you start, the door frame around his stature suddenly becoming much more interesting. "It has white lettering on the waist-"

Odd.

Barely visible from the angle that you're standing at, but clear enough to recognize the initials on the waistband. Your initials. 

In Izuku Midoriya's pocket.

There was no way.

"You know what, it's really not important," you laugh, pushing the thought down to the deepest pits of your mind. To think your neighbour had stolen a pair of your underwear was ridiculous. A pro hero at that.

He's confused at your withdrawal but doesn't think much of it.

"If you say so. I'll look around my place and see if I can find it. You still need me to grab those clothes from the dryer?" he questions, closing the door behind him and stepping out into the hallway. 

The realization of just how alone the two of you are settles, the faint hum of the elevator down the hall being your only companion. 

Right. 

You'd forgotten that you asked him to bring your clothes up, already predicting you'd be running late for your date tonight.

Your gaze flickers back down to the pocket of his sweats before you can stop yourself.

Black lace. White Stitching.

Your initials.

Your stomach flips.

Izuku Midoriya was many things: awkward, polite, almost painfully sweet. He was not the kind of man who stole a woman's underwear

..Right?

And if he did, what could he be doing with it? The thought lingers longer than it should, images of possible scenarios flooding your mind. The idea of him having the material wrapped around his fingers, intricate black lace between each digit. His hand wrapped tightly around his cock. If it were your underwear, does that mean he'd be moaning your name? 

You can't deny that he's popped into your head a few times at night, when you're so close to release and need just a little something to push you over the edge. And it does, he does without fail.

Heat creeps up your neck, quickly shoving the thought away with a shake of your head. You clearly needed to get laid if you were jumping to that. 

"Yeah, if you don't mind. Hopefully, this will be the last time, but I promise, dinner. I'll make it up to you." You smile, eyes coming up to stare at his green ones. The small freckles on his more visible now than ever before.

He nods, a curt smile on his face as he wishes you a 'Good night' before shutting the door. A hand comes over his face as he tries to suppress the heat in his body. 

What the hell was he doing?

He looks down at his pocket, where the faint outline of lace presses against the fabric. Embroidered letters barely visible.

He told himself it would be a one-time thing. He promised that he'd come clean about it, tell you that it had just gotten mixed up with his clothes from the first time.

His chest tightens. You were going on a date. 

The idea of you sitting across the table from some jerk, laughing at his jokes, getting to see you in an outfit he so greedily wants all for himself. It makes his jaw clench.

He doesn't know you the way he does. The way your eyes shift when you're embarrassed, how your thighs clench when, or how you wear darker coloured lingerie, cause that's when you feel you look your best. And he definitely didn't deserve to see you in that dress.

But he's not sure he really deserves to either.

He shouldn't be thinking about you like this.

..So why couldn't he stop?

The guilt of his actions is all he can think about. As he tries to ignore the raging hard-on between his legs. He figures a distraction is the best option; maybe Mrs. Tadashi needs more help in the laundry room.

As he makes the trip downstairs, filling the basket with your clothes, his imagination runs wild. There are 4 pairs in this load, excluding the ones that should barely count for fabric. So many colours, and so many designs.

One last time won't kill him, right?

Wrong.

The thought of you in that dress has made him impossibly hard, so much so that his hand alone won’t get the job done. What starts with one wrapped around his fist quickly turns to two, the third clenched between his teeth. He watches as they move skillfully along his length, hands working to feel every inch. His head thrown back in pure ecstasy, hips bucking into the tightness of his palm as he teeters on the edge of release. 

He's so, so close. 

His hands move faster, eyes shut tighter after each pump. Images of you wearing each pair racing through his mind, a wet spot forming where your pussy and his fluids meet. He bites hard when he cums, white spots coating the material held tight in his hands. Tears swelling in his eyes at the feeling of his release and small moans of your name muffled behind the fabric in his mouth. 

His chest heaves, and his grip around himself loosens. The fresh pile of laundry is sitting tauntingly in the corner of the room. The underwear in his mouth falls out of his mouth, the lace material sopping wet as it collides with his chest. His cock sits against his stomach, angry,  red. Enough so that it hurts for him to move. 

His chest heaves as the last tremor leaves his body, the room around him slowly coming into focus.

If he does want anything to come from this, he definitely needs to say something. 

This had to be the last time.

…

By the time you step off the elevator and walk down the hallway toward your apartment, heels clacking against the tile, you want nothing more than to get out of this dress and forget the night ever happened.

That date couldn't have gone worse. 

Neito Monoma had to have been the most self-centred person you'd ever met in your life. 

The topic of conversation never got the chance to stray too far from him; he would never allow it. And in the brief moments when it did, your mind wandered somewhere far less appropriate.

Green hair. Freckles.

And the very clear outline of your black lace panties in Izuku Midoriya's pocket.

You know the idea of your neighbour stealing your underwear should be disturbing. But you just can't see it that way. 

And that makes this whole thing feel so much worse.

You don't have much time to dwell on it before a knock sounds at your door, the man of the hour now standing in front of you, laundry basket in hand.

"I heard you come back," he says quickly. "I thought I should return these". 

If this were true, and Izuku Midoriya was in fact stealing your underwear, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to find out why.

I mean, you did owe him dinner.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," you start. "Did you want to come inside?"

"Huh?"

"Did you want to come in? I do still owe you that dinner," you smile, grabbing the basket, pulling him into your complex. 

As he walks through the threshold, you notice just how out of place he looks in your cozy apartment. The way he stands awkwardly at the door before you offer him a seat, eyes wandering, taking in the decorations around the complex. His eyes also can't help but land on you. Still in that dress from earlier, the way it rises slightly when you reach for ingredients on the top shelf.

That familiar feeling rushing through his body once again.

"You know," you say, opening another cabinet, "I've been thinking about that thing I lost earlier."

He freezes in the chair.

"The thing?"

"Mhm, my 'unmentionables'," you giggle. Laughing at the name while placing a pot on the stove. "Did you ever find them?"

Green eyes snap to yours, intense, calculating. "Oh, right. The green pair you lost, right? With the flowers on it?"

You pause, brows raised and a smirk on your face. 

"I didn't mention anything about them being green."

He doesn't answer right away. 

His eyes flicker to the pot long forgotten on the counter, then to you. His jaw tightens as he runs through a dozen different excuses he could give you.

"…right," he says quietly, a faint blush on his cheeks as you laugh at him.

"Maybe you need to get your story straight, Midoriya."

The words come out light, almost teasing. But he knows what you mean. The look on his face changing instantly.

For a second, neither of you moves, before he changes that in an instant.

You're surprised when his hands grab at your neck, thumb tracing along the length of your windpipe. His hold is gentle, but tight. Like he's afraid that if he lets go, you might not be there. Like, this might not be real. You moan into his mouth as he squeezes, the movement forcing your mouth to open. He wastes no time slipping in his tongue, the muscle colliding with yours without hesitation. 

"Fuck you're perfect," he groans, hands wandering the valleys of your body. You slip your hand under his shirt, his abs tensing at the feeling of your cold fingers. Your hands fidget with the waistband, slipping into his pants and grazing over his cock.

Reluctantly, your lips part. Hands fidgeting with the zipper of your dress.

"Help me take it off' you ask, turning around and placing your hands on the counter. Thighs shifting against each other as you get more antsy by the second.

His hands trail up your sides, fingers tracking along the teeth of the zipper before they disappear.

"'M not sure I want to. Do you mind keeping it on?" he questions, hands rubbing along your thighs. 

You pause before looking back at him. He's on his knees between your legs, his eyes glancing at the spot between your legs.

"N-not that I don't want to see your body, you're gorgeous, just that, you look so good in it."

You smile at his answer, eyes rolling back when you feel him lifting it over the curve of your ass. 

You notice the way he pauses, eyes trained on the pair of panties hugging your curves.

"Izuku? Is everything okay?" you question, the position of your body suddenly seeming a bit too vulgar for the moment.

"Yeah just that, I've seen this pair before," he starts, thumb moving along your slit. The small patch of wetness growing with each stroke. "Couldn't help but picture you in it. Almost lost my mind just thinking about it."

You don't get a chance to respond to him, the feeling of him pulling the fabric down to your ankles being the only thought in your mind. You whine when you feel him nearing your heat. Hips writhing in anticipation.

"Please. Please, I need more," you moan, hands pushing your body back further in search of his tongue. He smiles at your desperation, gracing you with a small lick along your folds.

Your hands fly to his hair, breath hitching as he flicks his tongue. Each one reaching deeper than the last. Izuku Midoriya was acting like a starved man, hands holding you still as his tongue does all the work. Each time his mouth separates from your body, thin lines of your substances still connect you both.

Your thighs shake when you feel his finger press against your entrance, pushing it in until it reaches his knuckle.

"Is this okay?" he asks, standing up from the spot between your legs. His upper body pressed comfortably against your back, and his finger continuing its assault. You moan when you feel his cock against your ass, slowly grinding against your cheeks.

"Fuck. A-another one. Please. Izuku, hurry up," you whine, head turning to look at him. His lips find yours in a heated kiss. Not nearly as gentle as it was before. He smiles against your lips as he pushes another finger inside you, your slick allowing him to move effortlessly. He watches as your teeth dig into your lip, hole clenching as you near your release.

"Didn't like seeing you so dressed up for some other guy, baby. Made me feel so lonely," he says, fingers picking up in speed. You'd honestly forgotten about that guy, the only person on your mind that whole time being Izuku. The one who was fucking you so good right now.

"'M really s-sorry. Promise he was a j-jerk. 'M never gonna talk to him again. Only want you," you choke out, pussy clenching tighter around his digits. 

"You gonna cum?" he asks, fingers thrusting harder, faster. He smiles when you nod your head, coaxing you through every moment. His hand holds you steady when your legs twitch, his guidance being the only thing keeping you from smashing your head onto the counter.

He lets you catch your breath before he moves again, kneeling between your legs to lap at your juices. Not a single drop going to waste. 

Your legs are bound by the material around your ankles, wetness collected at the base. It was even better than he could've imagined.

His tongue trails along your neck, open and wet kisses moving up to your ear as he frees himself from the confines of his pants.

He was bigger than you'd imagined. His cock grazes his stomach, small beads of precum sitting on his tip. A faint blush grows on his cheeks when he notices you're staring.

"'M gonna put it in now," he says, lining himself up with your entrance. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

When you nod your head, he pushes in slowly. His tip disappears, and then the midline of his cock. He doesn't get to continue at this pace, though; the feeling of your hips pressing back against him forcing him to bottom out.

Your eyes shut at the sensation, a faint burning feeling mixed with absolute pleasure.

"So needy for me, hm?" he asks, slowly picking up the pace with his thrusts. He watches the way your ass collides against his hips, the base of his cock disappearing each time. You're clearly not in the right headspace to give him a verbal answer, mouth agape, cheeks pressed against the cold marble. Small puddles of drool collecting on your face. The only thing you can do is nod your head, before you're moaning again. Your hole squeezing around him after each thrust.

Your arms flail, searching for anything to keep you grounded as his thrusts get harder, deeper. Izuku, ever the gentleman, takes hold of them. Both of them held in one of his hands, crossed tightly behind your back. His body leans over yours, dark green hair tickling your ear. When he's this close, you can hear everything: the small moans when you tighten around him, the way he tuts as he watches the tears flow down your cheeks.

"Do you know what I was thinking about when I had your panties around my cock?" 

You groan, arms resisting against him as you try to cover your face. He was so close, lips just a whisper away from yours, his thrusts unrelenting against your hips.

"Ah, fuck."

"Yeah? You wanna know what I was thinking about? Need you to answer me, princess."

You turn your head to face him, tears glossing over your eyes as you look into his.

"Was thinking about how - fuck, how perfect you'd look on my cock. And what you'd look like walking around with my cum between your legs."

Your eyes squeeze shut, the overstimulation of it all pushing you to your climax. You can tell by the small stutter in his hips that he's close to, his dick hitting depths just short of reach before.

"Please, baby. C-can I cum inside? Need to. Need you so bad." 

Your small moan of approval is lost in the sound of his groans. His head thrown back as he thrusts deep into you, fearful of the idea of a single drop going to waste. 

Your legs are shaky, the feeling of his body against your back being your only solace. Warmth flows throughout your body, small drops of cum dripping onto the material beneath you. The once dark coloured fabric is now painted with spots of white.

Hesitantly, he looks at where your bodies connect, the sight making his eyes shut, reluctantly pulling out of you before he starts something he's not sure will ever end. He takes to his knees again, face aligned with your heat. He watches as his fluids seep out of you in globs.

His hands reach for the panties by your ankles, dragging them up until they cover your ass. 

You whine at the feeling, the cold substance mixing with the heat of your pussy.

It was just too good.

He presses a small peck to the damp part of the clothing, pulling your dress down to cover it. He laughs when you don't move, body seemingly frozen against the countertop.

"Hey. Still with me? " he asks gently, arms moving to pull you up. He's startled when your legs almost give out, body fully resting in his arms. 

After opening a few doors, he finds your room, your body resting comfortably in his hold. He places you down gently before flopping on the bed next to you, an arm draped lazily across your chest. 

For a moment, neither of you speak. A comfortable silence taking over the apartment.

Your fingers toy with the waistband of his shirt before you glance at him.

"…So," you say quietly, "how long have you been stealing my underwear?"

His eyes shut for a moment as he lets out a small breath, like he's been anticipating this question all day.

"So you knew?"

"I had my suspicions. But when I saw my favourite pair in your pocket, it kind of sealed the deal." You laugh, turning your body to face his. Your eyes squinting in discomfort as you remember the substance between your legs. "'M gonna need those back by the way, they weren't cheap."

"Yeah … I'm not sure you can wear those anymore," he smiles, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.

You blink at him slowly, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling inside you.

"Oh, Izuku … you're lucky you're cute."

a/n: yayy pervy izuku is here. i'm thinking if this does well i'll make one for bakugou cause i've already got some thoughts! Also this is not proofread yet, I'm so tired. Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, mwah! 💋

[tokkushin]

ATTENTION REQUIRED!

⋮ 🪽₊˚⊹ ┆ teacher izuku midoriya x f!afab!reader

༝ You've never really enjoyed school, but that never took away from your success. Now, you're struggling in Behavioural Analysis class, Professor Midoriya's behaviour analysis class. One bad mark after another, is relying on your good grades even enough to get by? — wc 6k!

ʚ !! ɞ ›› MDNI! lowkey toxic izuku, strict!zuku too, power imbalance, teasing, pet names, degradation, dry humping, grinding, kissing, incentives (tehe), oral (f!receiving), fingering, breast play, spanking, biting, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, sir kink

𓏲ּ𝄢 ┆aa here she is, rewritten into one cause the other one was so ass lol. i hope you guys like it!

School was a pain in the ass - but not in the usual way.

Sure, there were early lectures, endless studying for things that probably wouldn't even matter in real life, it all could feel a little pointless - never mind the ridiculous expenses for just a couple of classes. But it was the quiet pressure you placed on yourself to always outperform that really bothered you. Your parents beamed at every report card, proud as if your successes were their own. To you, it just wasn't worth it. 

Your reputation around the campus was nothing short of impressive. Outstanding grades, a high GPA, and professors who praised your work without you even touching the readings. Learning came naturally, and you never really needed to try. But some just weren't as simple as they seem.

'Shit, I'm late,' you thought, feet padding faster towards the doors of the lecture hall. In your defence, you'd spent most of your night mapping out your schedule, switching classes around for the easiest workload possible. This class, especially, had seemed like a safe addition - a GPA buffer, if you will.

Mina had put in a good word about the Behavioural Analysis course, taught by some random professor in the academy. After a quick search on some student websites, his reputation was set - highly praised, accomplished in ways impossible to ignore, but nothing you couldn't handle.

The squeak of the door captured everyone's attention, including your new professor, Izuku Midoriya. Dark forest green hair, light brown freckles across his face. His outfit was sharp: a collared shirt tucked neatly into his slacks. A red tie for a pop of colour, and the watch on his wrist that screamed punctuality. His eyes seemed warm, almost welcoming. But there was a dark edge to him that could make even the best students second-guess themselves. And god, was he hot.

You freeze at the top of the stairs, heart banging against your chest. His gaze is unwavering, enough to make you wonder if that last comment might've actually slipped out. You aren't scared, exactly, but his attention felt …dangerous.

You spot Mina's familiar pink hair as she smiles and waves you over, nails gleaming as she pats the seat next to her. The deafening silence in the classroom suddenly feels even louder as you make your way over.

"How nice of you to join us," he says, eyes trailing over your form. "Don't forget that being late doesn't turn out well for many students in this class". He smiles as he speaks, though it doesn't reach his eyes. 

You know better than to take it as anything less than a warning.

Your first few days in the class were already hell. 

It shouldn't even be legal to give students a course load this heavy. You were exhausted, and not only that, your grade was slipping. Fast. You'd only done one assignment so far, and you were already failing. A giant D plastered across the front of your assignment in bright, red ink. An essay worth 30% of your grade. A small note underneath that reads, 'Do better', before you shove it into your school bag.

It almost felt like he never let that first day go. As if he knew who you were, and his impression of you was set in stone before you could even change it. Every interaction carried the same edge, like he was trying to intimidate you. And it was worse that he knew it was working.

This certainly wasn't a class you could skim by just being smart.

Your eyes glanced at Mina's paper. A bold 'A' sits at the top, and just beside it, a small, shiny gold star sticker.

You blinked.

Gold stars? Really. The teacher with a PhD in Mind games and a Master's in testing your patience, was handing out stickers as a reward.

She smiles as you pout, waving the paper in your face and wiggling her eyebrows, "I got a gold star," she smirks.

You roll your eyes at her antics, but you can't hide the small pout still present on your face. You didn't need his stupid gold stars. You didn't even need his praise. 

At least, that's what you told yourself.

ATTENTION REQUIRED!

Two quizzes and one assignment later, and your grade still wasn't looking good. You flop onto your bed, dimly lit candles casting a soft shadow across the room. 

Despite the midterm coming up, you felt like you deserved a break, even the best students need one sometimes.

The last couple of days had been long, grazing over notes for the test and barely recovering from a night out with Mina, yet you'd already put in more effort than you usually did for classes. No matter how smart you were, it felt like Professor Midoriya was determined to see you fail. And, unfortunately for you, that made him all the more enticing.

A ding from your inbox pulls you out of your thoughts - Professor Midoriya. Subject: Immediate Attention Required.

This couldn't be good. 

…

Due to your current academic performance…… failing the course. Continued unsatisfactory performance… academic probation.

Your heart pounds, eyes stinging as they move across the screen. A failed course was one thing, but academic probation? Your parents would never let you live it down. Life would be over as you knew it, and your reputation would be absolutely squashed. You consider closing your laptop, pretending it's not real, but the next line catches your attention.

… I am willing to offer you additional review sessions following each lecture. Your participation in these sessions will determine if your grade can be reassessed.

This opportunity is not extended to all students. I expect effort. Do not waste my time… Let me know your decision before class tomorrow, Professor Midoriya.

You stare at the screen, the tears that once threatened to fall down your cheeks now out of mind. Review sessions with him. The thought makes your stomach twist, half of its nerve, half something else entirely. But more than that, something sparks inside you. An opportunity to show him that you can be good, even when he makes it impossible to be. 

And it's not because you want to please him, it's because you need him to see that you're capable. To acknowledge that you're worth way more than the shit he's been giving you. Even if the thought of his praise sits warmer in your chest than you'd like to admit.

The air in the classroom feels heavier now more than ever. You enter the empty lecture hall, a whole 15 minutes before class is scheduled to start, descending the stairs as more of him comes into view: the sharp line of his jaw, the way his sleeves are rolled neatly to his forearms. But he doesn't spare you a glance.

"Sir," you start, eyes trailing over his form, "I read your email from last night."

He stays quiet, eyes fixed on you like he's analyzing something. Longer than what you'd consider comfortable, before he closes his laptop and stands up from his seat, his glasses coming off in the process.

"You're early," he says, eyes glancing at the time on his watch. "You must be taking this seriously. That's good." Somehow, within the last two seconds, he's closed the distance almost completely. His body is mere inches from yours as the soft scent of sandalwood graces your nose.

You resist the temptation to roll your eyes, forcing your shoulders to stay relaxed even as your heart races. A small smile tugs at your lips instead, and you bite your tongue hard enough you taste metal. 

"I understand your time is important. I won't disappoint you, Sir."

He offers you a small smile, watching as the students filter into the class. He takes a few steps back, reclaiming the space between you two. “After class,” he says quietly, stalking back over to his laptop, “I suggest you make this worth my time.”

You exhale slowly, turning around to look for your pink-haired friend. The warmth in your chest is annoying, a distraction. You'll make it worth his time, alright.

Hey! I saw you talking to Professor Midoriya. What was that all about?” she smirks, her elbow nudging your shoulder. “Trying to get yourself a gold star?”

"Mina, please. The last thing I need is some sticker from some teacher." You huff, "He just offered me some help for the next few classes. That's all."

"Yeah, right. Some "teachers" don't just offer private lessons when they feel like it, especially not ones like him," she laughs, loud enough to catch the attention of the class. You give her a sharp smack on the arm, the silence in the class finally breaking.

"Sorry, did I interrupt your conversation?" he says, a small smile on his face, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“No, sir. Sorry," she apologizes, giving you a small grin and leaning back in her seat. And for a moment, something in his eyes flickers, like the word doesn't sound right coming out of her mouth. You don't miss the way his eyes linger on you before he resumes his teaching. Just a second too long. Mina doesn't miss it either.

"He's so into you," she whispers.

"Mina-"

"I mean, he's totally your type. Tall, built, emotionally unavailable. Hell, I'd sign up for extra help too," she laughs, turning her attention back to her computer. She was wrong. She had to be. 

You stare at your screen, willing your heartbeat to slow, but your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes lingered on you. You try to focus on the lecture, but all his words are blurred; the only sound is your heart beating against your chest.

And you're not sure if it's from fear or want.

Before you know it, class is over. The sounds of chairs scraping against the floor, and students filtering out of the class is all you can hear, and suddenly, the room feels much smaller.

You force yourself to move towards him, even as Mina's words play on repeat in your mind and your heart hammers against your chest. Descending the steps like each one might be your last.

There's silence as you stand in front of him, his eyes trained on his computer, the reflection glaring against the lens of his glasses. Through it, you can see your essay on positive reinforcement, the one he noted as 'Not reflective of your potential.'

He doesn't acknowledge you right away. Almost like he's evaluating you.

"Sit."

You pull out the chair across from him, folding your arms over your chest on instinct.

He doesn't miss the way your leg bounces, or how your hands grip at your sleeves as he takes in your posture. Of course, he notices.

"I've heard a lot about you," he says casually, closing his laptop and leaning back against the chair. His legs spread slightly, arms crossing to match yours, "High GPA, pretty decorated record. Teachers talk pretty highly about you, it's a bit surprising you're in this situation, huh?" he smiles, though it's sharper than the way he's talking.

"And what do you think of me?"

He tilts his head slightly, almost as if he's amused by something only he understands. Before ignoring your question completely.

"Let's start with something simple. Define positive reinforcement." 

Now you're convinced he might think you're not nearly as capable as everyone says. There's something almost condescending in the way he talks to you, as if the opinions of other teachers mean nothing to him, as if he'd rather decide your potential all on his own. 

"That's what we're starting with?"

"That's what you missed."

Your jaw tightens. And suddenly, everything around you is more interesting than the man in front of you. His gaze doesn’t falter, though, and he waits patiently for your answer. When you do respond, you fumble your words more than you'd like to. And it's not because you think you're wrong, but the look he gives you offers nothing to anchor yourself with.

"No. You seem to forget the details of concepts a lot."

"…I was nervous before the exam."

"Are you nervous now?"

Yes. Yes, you are. Very much so, at that. And you hate that it's him who's making you feel this way. 

"I'm not," you lie, back straightening in the process.

He doesn’t argue with you. Just watches as your knees shake underneath the desk and your eyes search for other things to look at. Analyzing.

“Then say it again, and get it right.”

You try again, slower this time, choosing your words carefully. There's a beat of silence before a smile stretches on his face. 

"Good job," he says, moving from his seat to stand beside you, leaning against the desk. "If you'd just slow down and think a little harder, I think you'd be much more successful". He's close now. Closer than he's ever been before, so close, in fact, that you can see a small sliver of skin through the holes between his buttons.

"So I'm not failing because I'm stupid? That's reassuring."

He ignores the attitude, exuding a small sigh of amusement at your response.

"You're failing cause you rush. If you don't take your time, you don't get rewarded. At least not with me."

His eyes flick to yours

"And that's what you want, isn't it?"

You don't answer him, and he doesn't need you to - your silence says enough. He steps back, reclaiming his space as if nothing had happened.

"That's enough for today."

You blink. "That's it?"

"For now," he says, adjusting his glasses with a small push before moving back to his desk.

You hesitate, willing yourself not to question it. But curiosity wins, "That was kind of ... short."

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. When he crosses his legs, you see a small flash of green bunnies on his socks. Pretty immature for someone who just made your panties wet.

"I can't lay everything on you during the first lesson."

He glances over at you through the lens of his glasses. "Otherwise you'd never come back."

Silently, you move to collect your things, slinging your backpack onto your shoulder, and ignoring the way your heart hammers against your chest so hard it feels like it might burst. Good job. Two words that you've heard so often, that have never held so much value until they came from his lips. From him.

"Thanks, sir. I'll see you next week."

"You did well today," he says, his focus already back on his computer. 

He doesn't look at you. And he doesn't need to.

Because he knows you'll want to see him again.

ATTENTION DIVERTED!

A few weeks later, and you're still in the same spot. Just like he expected. Legs crossed, arms folded against your chest. Less tense than the first time you sat in front of him, but the tightness in your chest remains. The tension between you two is sharper now, unmistakably so. It's obvious in the way his fingers brush against yours, in the way his body cages you when he points out something on your screen. 

These past sessions taught you one thing: Izuku Midoriya was everywhere, but still not where you wanted him. 

And he knows exactly what he's doing. You'd even say he took pride in it - how he smirks when your thighs squeeze together, or when he catches the small glint in your eyes after he tells you that 'you're improving'. But never the words you crave most.

Good Job. 

Or maybe, some other version of that.

As per his email, the one he's started signing off with a little less formality each time, this 'Precision Practice,' as he now likes to call it, is all about the Midterm. The one coming up next week, that, at this point, you're not sure you could be more prepared for. But you're sure he'd find a way to change that.

"There she is, my favourite student," he murmurs, glancing at the empty room, "I was wondering how long you'd make me wait." His body is lax as he leans against the desk, shirt rolled up just enough to reveal the toned line of his forearms, faint blue veins trailing up the length of his arms.

You roll your eyes at his words, despite the way your heart skips just a little, "I was only coming down the stairs," you smile, pulling out the seat in front of him. It's practically routine. Sit, listen, and ignore the way his presence fuels a warmth in your body. 

"Took you a little longer this time. You always talk to that girl … Mina. Right?" he asks, watching as you pull out your materials.

"Shouldn't you know? You gave her the gold star, didn't you?" you say, your leg bouncing against the floor and a familiar heat crawling up your cheeks.

"Does that bother you?" He asks. His voice is low, almost playful, as he watches your stoic expression fade for a mere second.

"Does … what bother me? That she got a sticker and I didn't? I think I'll live."

"It's what the sticker stands for," he says, tilting his head as your fingers tap away at your computer. Hovering over the next key as your brows furrow. "It means that the student has done a good job. It means that I think they're capable."

"I get it," you say, though it comes out harsher than you'd like it to. "I don't need your stickers to tell me that. My record speaks for itself."

He doesn't flinch. Instead, a slow, amused smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Those are some pretty harsh words," he murmurs, voice teasing, like it's fun to watch you break.

A soft breeze brushes your cheek as he squats beside you, eyes suddenly level with yours. Two hands grab at the arms of the chair, the legs scraping against the ground as he nudges it towards him. "Just so you know, I do think you're a good student," he starts, voice softening just a smidge, but his eyes remain sharp. "But … you should remember who you're doing this for."

He's close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him, sandalwood filling your senses once again. Every movement, every freckle painted on his face. Close enough to touch, but still far enough to leave you wanting more. And his eyes, swirls of green you could get lost in if you tried. If he'd let you.

"Alright," he says, shattering the tension with a grin as he grabs your hand and pulls you up. He hands you a blue marker, yanking the cap off with his teeth, "You're the teacher this time." 

Sliding into your chair, legs crossing over each other as he folds his arms over his chest, mirroring your usual position. 

You feel his eyes pierce your back with every movement, sense his smile when you get an answer wrong. It goes on for hours, the constant push-and-pull, the teasing touches and the flirtiness in his tone - until you realize it's too late, you're already too far gone.

"Ok, last one," he smiles, watching as you sigh and press your head against the whiteboard. "Let's go back to positive reinforcement." It's almost as if he doesn't believe you really understand it. 

"Sir, I think we've covered that one enough," you huff. Languidly removing the lid of the marker and getting ready to write the definition on the board. The loud squeaks of the marker against the board echo softly in the room. Streaks of dark blue painted on the white surface in uneven lines. 

Until it's joined by another sound. The legs of the chair screeching against the floor reverberate through the room. The heat from his body closing in with every step.

"If we've gone over it so much, surely you know what it means," he says, body now pressed against yours. Soft breaths ghost on the nape of your neck, the warm feeling forcing the hairs on your body to stand. Through the corner of your eye, you see his hand hover beside yours before settling over it. Thick fingers grazing yours as he takes the marker from your hand. "Give me an example," he whispers, his lips now mere inches from the shell of your ear. 

Somehow, within those few seconds, it feels as if you've forgotten how to breathe, and every movement presses your body against his. The air in the room is suffocating, not that you're complaining.

"When…" your thoughts are cut off by the feeling of his lips against your neck. They're soft, supple, stopping your train of thought entirely as you press back against him, eyes falling shut at the feeling. But you should know better than to think he'd let you get too comfortable.

"Don't get distracted. Answer the question."

"When a t-teacher rewards a student for getting an answer right," you huff, head resting against his shoulders as he plants chaste kisses on your collarbone.

"What kind of reward?"

"What does that have to do with the question?" you ask, words coming out in a huff as you will yourself not to moan just from the feeling of his lips against your shoulder. His hands find your waist, turning your body so you face him. Green eyes trace your features, brows furrowing slightly when his eyes lock on yours. 

"I just want to know what you'd consider to be a good reward. Something worth your time."

"…. A gold star," you huff, lips mere inches from his. Slowly, you feel him close the distance. Lips so close to yours, you're tempted to lean in - just a little - to close the space your body and mind have been fighting all this time. 

Until he smiles - whisker dimples indented on his cheeks as he brings a hand to your chin before muttering a quiet 'good answer'. Your lips hover close, barely brushing, like they're teetering on the edge of something. Then he pulls away. He's gone, already moving away from you and back to his seat behind the desk. You're left standing there, marker long forgotten on its metal tray, and a warmth in your chest with nowhere to go.

You don't move. You're not sure you can. Legs tied down with cylinder blocks that wouldn't let you budge.

"Prof-"

"From now on, these sessions are over. If you fail the midterm, I'll have no choice but to take this to the Dean."

You blink. His words setting in heavy before you will yourself to move. You huff, gathering your things in hurried motions, hands fumbling as they shove loose papers into your bag without a care. Just like the first time, he doesn't say anything. Eyes fixed on the computer screen, barely visible behind the glare of his glasses. Nothing. Lips pulled taut as if he's biting back a response.

Heat creeps up your neck as you rush out of the room; the only sound you hear is your own heartbeat, loud and uneven in your ears. Pounding against your chest as if it might burst.

It was stupid to think this could be anything else. Stoic, strict, and senseless - that's all he was. When you push the door open, you refuse to look back, a small sting brewing in your eyes. You were a good student. You didn't miss details. You didn't need his words to tell you that.

But even the smartest students miss things. Like the way his grip tightens around the edge of the desk the second you step out, lips burning under the weight of his teeth. Or the way his own heartbeat races just as fast, matching yours beat for beat.

ATTENTION WITHHELD!

An 'A'. 

Red, bulky letter sitting at the top corner of your midterm. 

You stare at it longer than you should, fingers gripping the edge of the paper as if it might disappear.

Your eyes drag to the corner, expecting to see the shiny, shimmering reflection of the sticker on your page. But it's blank. The only message being 'Good' in the other corner, but it's what the pages lack that makes heat creep up your neck. Your eyes flick to his, but to your surprise, he's already looking at you. A stone-cold expression etched into his features before he addresses the class, "If anyone has a problem with their grade, they're welcome to come to my office after class." 

All of this work, and he can't even appreciate you properly. Can't praise you properly. Just as he's done for other students. You've done everything he's asked, followed instructions, swallowed your feelings in silence. But it was just like him to leave you wanting more. 

You wouldn't let him win.

When you round the corner to his office, there's a lineup. Your foot tapping impatiently against the tile as you inch closer and closer. Students file in and out, a multitude of expressions etched on their faces as they move past you. Each step towards the door sparks something inside you, a tight coil of frustration that gets tighter by the second.

Until it's your turn. You barely wait for the other student to leave the room, shoving past them and rounding the side of the desk to stand beside him. Ignoring the chair that was so gracefully pulled out for you.

"I think you're missing something," you huff, holding the paper in his line of view. Arms outstretched and foot tapping against the carpet.

There's a beat of silence before he moves, eyes glancing at the bold 'A' on your paper before moving them back to his computer. With a sigh, he stands from his seat, making his way towards the door where students wait impatiently outside his office. "I'm sorry, guys. She'll be the last student I take for today," he smiles, all bright and wide, before shutting the door and locking it with a soft click.

His office is neat. Stacks of paper neatly arranged in the corner by the printer, small trinkets decorating the shelves around the room. Everything was in perfect order, which makes sense given his record.

"What seems to be the problem?" he questions, arms crossed as he leans against the door.

"You gave me an 'A'." you scoff, pushing the stack of paper into his chest. "That's it?" 

"And you're complaining?" he asks, brows lifted as he inches closer to you with every step. 

"You give everyone else something. A sticker, praise - whatever game you keep playing and all I get is 'Good?' you question, watching as he gently places the test onto his desk. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you with darkened eyes. "I'm sorry, did you want one?" he smiles, already reaching for it on the desk before its shoved out of his hands.

"You're a piece of shit" you mutter, although you know it lacks bite.

His hand cups the side of your face, thumb smoothing over your jawline as he speaks, "And yet, you're still here."

And just like before, your lips are mere inches from each other. But this time, they meet. His lips move roughly against yours, noses bumping as you press your faces together. His hands trail the sides of your body, hiking your thigh into his arms as he lays you against the desk. 

The sound of the mug clattering against the desk. Instinctively, your head turns towards the sound, a gasp escaping from your lips as you watch the small droplets of coffee form a puddle on the floor. It doesn't stop Izuku, though.

"Always getting distracted," he huffs, taking your distraction as an opportunity to shift his focus to your neck. Light kisses turned to rough bites as he trails them down to the hem of your shirt.

Your hips writhe against the desk when he pushes your shirt up, keeping the fabric pooled around your neck as he fondles your tits. His mouth works around your breast, nipples like swollen mountain peaks from the cold air. His hand gropes and squishes the other, giving you sharp pinches when you move too much underneath him.

"All this attitude over a sticker?" he asks, smiling against your chest as you roll your eyes at his ministrations. Your arms move to cover your face as he trails down lower on your body. Hips lifting slightly as he nears your aching heat.

His fingers toy with the waistband, dipping a finger against your clit as if he's testing the waters - not that there's much to test. The air in the room is cold against your skin, legs already squeezing together from the lack of warmth. But they don't make it far. 

"Ah Ah. Don't do that. Thought you wanted to be good for me?" he smiles, pressing two thick fingers into your hole. Your jaw goes slack, the feeling of him pushing inside you, hitting the spot that's always been just out of reach. It's overwhelming.

"I don't need your stupid sticker," you huff, willing your body not to move towards the feeling of his tongue. The muscle moves skilfully between your folds, lapping at your juices like a man starved. And maybe he is. Maybe Izuku has been waiting for this just as long as you. Maybe even longer. Since he read the transcript of the smartest student on campus, never doubting your skill, never underestimating your intelligence. Just a smart little thing he couldn't wait to defile.

Or maybe, that's an easier answer than to admit there's something more.

"No? Then why are you here?" he asks, lips only removing themselves from your pussy to get the words out. You feel him smile between your thighs as you ignore his question, tugging at his hair instead. Tendrils of forest green carded between your fingers.

His fingers move in perfect tandem with his tongue, every movement pushing you closer and closer to your release. You clench around him, his nose nudging against your clit as you move your hips on his face. And he lets you. Let's you use him as a vice that as if your need could shape him.

He groans into your core as you release on his tongue. Standing from the spot between your thighs to wipe his mouth. He watches as you lie breathless on the desk, eyes glossy, arms covering your face, sweat glistening on your forehead.

A firm hand moves you from your position, despite your whines. Pulling you up and turning you around so your chest is flat against the wooden table. Your ass on full display, full mounds untouched, unmarked. And he couldn't wait to change that.

He leans over, his tie brushing your spine. "I'll tell you what, be good, and you'll get your sticker," he whispers, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, bulge pressing into the small of your back. Just like old times.

You whine against the wood, face smushed against it as he holds your head in place. And that's when you feel it. The sharp smack of his hand against your ass. A yelp slips past your lips from the force, shades of red already flourishing on the spot.

"Please, M-Midori-"

"That's not what you call me," he says, hands moving past your head to grab something just out of sight. "You know my name. Say it," all you can do is look at him, wide-eyed and confused, before he speaks for you. "I know you're a smart girl. Don't play dumb." 

"… Please, Sir" 

He lets out a low chuckle as the tears spill over your cheeks, as your high hits again. It's overwhelming. His voice husky with lust and control, and just a hint of cocky amusement. "Good girl" he mutters, his hand rubbing the red mark, leaving a small kiss before decorating it with something sticky. 

A gold star.

"There we go. Feels good, huh?" and you can hear the smile in his voice. Groping your ass cheeks and inspecting the spot as if it were a work of art. Which to him, it might as well be.

"See? When you work for it, I can give you as many gold stars as you want," he smiles, loosening the buckle on his belt and freeing himself from the thin confines of his boxers.

"S-sir" you whine, ass lifting from the table to writhe against his length. Your hips rocking back and forth, as you urge him to fuck you. He laughs at your feeble attempts, easing inside you in one smooth motion. His tip snug inside your hole, every inch of him etched into your mind as he grinds against your rear. 

"What is it, pretty?" he asks, eyes twitching from the warmth of your insides. He finds his pace gradually, hips pressing flush against your ass with each thrust. "You want another?" he asks, toothy smile adorning his face as he guides you along his cock.

You nod your head quickly, eyes rolling back and hole clenching from the feeling of him bottoming out inside you. "If you want another, you're gonna have to take it. Like a - fuck you're tight - like a good girl," he moans, though it all comes out breathless. 

A harsh spank lands on the other cheek, a tingling sensation sending a jolt through your body. Instinctively, you squeeze around him, hole fluttering from the contact. Just like before, he runs a soothing hand over the mound, decorating it with the sticky plastic and a soothing thumb. His pace falters, thrusts uneven as he feels himself nearing his own release, and you're not too far behind. 

"You gonna cum?" he smiles, body leaning over yours as his face comes into view. He presses a sticker onto your nose, giving it a small peck before doing the same to your cheek. He's flushed a bright red, eyes glassy and wide-eyed as he rocks against your ass. His lips press against yours, only it's softer this time. Each kiss is a silent grounding as he brings you both to your release.

Heat blooms through you, waves of pleasure clouding your thoughts as you feel the white-hot spurts inside you. His hands cling to your sides, tight like you might slip away. The sounds of your ragged breaths fill the room, mixed with his groans of ecstasy and the smell of coffee. 

Everything is still. Your body trembling, his still pressed against you. Neither of you speaks. The stickers on your body glide against the sweat on your skin, slick dripping down your inner thighs. He pulls back slightly, moving your hair to admire the dazed look on your face, praises and whispers of 'good girl' falling softly from his lips. You can only look at him, head still spinning, caught between feelings of ecstasy and the unspoken question of what happens next.

The puddle of coffee has seeped into the hardwood, sticky and messy on the floor. As your eyes meet, it's as if they have a silent conversation. An understanding that this is something neither of you can undo. 

Despite how smart both of you are, neither of you know how to fix this.

© tokkushin — all rights reserved. all works belong to me .ᐟ pls do not repost/copy, or feed into ai. likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! :) are stickers made of plastic...? idfk.

[mamashima]

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE, NSFW.

❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: i listen to a lot of audio porn…18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.

eijirō kirishima swears like a sailor. he starts out sweet, but it gets to a point—usually when he’s watching his cock bury inside you, any hole will do—where he gets a little selfish, greedy, chasing his own high, even (especially) if it’s through you. and by the time he’s fingered you through a third orgasm, his eyes wrecked and lips bitten pink, he’s rambling about how much of a filthy fucking whore you are, leaking all over the bed for him like this.

hanta sero is the epitome of calm, cool, and collected. he’s never silent, but he doesn’t let himself go until you’re begging use me, daddy, rounding your cute little eyes and hurting you’re bottom lip in a pout like he’s not doing enough. he always, genuinely, tries to resist, but his willpower quickly corrodes the moment you wrap his hands around your throat, and suddenly, all fears of hurting you dissipate. he just wants to cum, dammit.

denki kaminari is a performer. he likes being watched—likes the look on your face when he licks his cum off your stomach, the look when he bottoms out and shows you how good you feel. but, he can short-circuit just as easily, turning into a whiny, pathetic mess when you fuck him to a second orgasm.

izuku midoriya is a babbler. it’s not long before he’s stammering about how pretty you are, how lucky he is, how good you feel. but don’t mistake that babbling for submission, because, yes, he may be drooling on your shoulder—but he’s also got your face shoved into the pillow with one hand, using the other to prop your hips to find that spot that makes you scream.

hitoshi shinsō is typically pretty quiet, until he gets drunk. (or high, though its usually some combination both.) then, he can’t help but buck his hips to make you gag on his cock, because as hard as he tries, he’s not a nice guy. but you’re always so sweet to him, and he tries so hard to return the favor, feeling perpetually guilty for every single immoral thought—but once he’s drunk, all he wants is to see you cry.

katsuki bakugō sounds just like his music taste—hot and loud. he won’t talk about it, and if you tell anyone, you’re dead, but even when he’s alone, he has to keep a hand over his mouth to keep the unwanted noises at bay. the issue is you feel good, too good, and every time he finds himself scrambling to bite at anything to shut himself up—a hand, the pillow, your shoulder, something.

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

[unequivocallyyoursrin]

AITA for agreeing to a threesome with another Pro-Hero and his girlfriend?

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader x Shoto Todoroki Synopsis: Bakugou Katsuki has never been this confused, excited, and fucking terrified his entire life. For all the wrong reasons, at that. Being involved physically was not really his nature. Yeah, he might indulge his drive to fuck sometimes to relieve stress from work and life, but other than that, he doesn’t really do much. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy it, not at all. He loves it. But it's become a routine now. So, imagine his shock when Shoto Todoroki and his beautiful girlfriend, you, come up a month before his birthday to ask him a serious question that would surely change the trajectory of his life, and possibly awaken some deep-settled desires in him. Contents: afab!reader| porn with decent plot | threesome | cuckholding ig | degrading | dirty talk | getting passed around | praise | improper use of quirk | marathon sex | unprotected sex | timeskip-Bakugo & Todoroki | double penetration | an: honestly, i never imagined myself writing smut, but here i am

The poor boy is a mess. In every possible way.

The air in the room was stifling with the scent of sweat, expensive cologne, and the undeniabe smell of sex. The tatami mats, neat and precise, carefully chosen by the Todoroki Head Maid a few months ago, were now misaligned. The shoji screens still half-open, as if someone had pushed it aside so hurriedly and never bother to fix it. The bedside lamp was the only thing illuminating the entire apartment, making the air feel more vulnerable.

And on the futon, was a mess of tangled bodies and blankets and pillows spilling into the floor.

“Fuck yeah,” Bakugou Katsuki grunted above you, his voice rough with effort and satisfaction. “Took me long enough to get this tight pussy wrapped around my cock.” he chuckles.

The soft futon beneath the three of you offered little resistance as she was positioned, hips raised slightly by strong hands. “C’mon now, don’t hide that pretty face away,” he cooed through his deep breaths, his grin revealing a deep set of dimples on his cheeks, which was cute and quite the opposite of what his was doing to you right now.

His hips pistoned against yours, driving his bulbous tip into the spot that made you see stars. His chest, glistening with perspiration now, remained pressed against your back, as his other hand held you jaw, positioning it properly so you could look at your dear boyfriend, who sat in the beside the two of you, stroking his own length.

“Look at her, Shoto. So cockdrunk, hm?” Bakugo taunts, driving his cock deeper than ever. “Just a few rounds and you’re already on the brink of passing out,” he adds, slapping his hand against your weeping pussy.

You should’ve seen this coming, to be honest. You don’t even remember how you got to this point in the first place.

Shoto’s gaze lingered on the way Katsuki’s hips slammes against yours, each thrist a violent claim. A faint smirk touched his lips as he watched his beloved girl’s face and the blonde-haired pro-hero’s face contort in pleasure. Who knew that the Top 2 Pro-Hero hid something as depraving as this.

“Look at him,” Shoto murmured, his voice a low hum and his breath a surge of warmth against you ear, migling with the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. “He’s completely lost in that little hole of yours.” he continues, caressing you jaw with his free hand.

His words sent a flutter down your body, pleased by the indirect praise, which in turn made you clench tighter around Katsuki’s cock. How did things even come to this in the first place?

-

A few weeks ago, approximately three weeks and 5 days (yes, he has been counting), Bakugo received a rather odd message from Todoroki Shoto, saying that they should meet up. Bakugo, ever the skeptical, almost ignored it. Almost.

But something about the message felt different. So now, he had let himself get bitten by curiosity. And he went.

The restaurant he went to was a famous 5-star michelin spot, despite being tucked away from the main street. You could say, this was one of the few places where the filthy rich could get together privately. That itself shoul’ve rang the alarms in Bakugo’s head. Because then, he saw you.

You weren’t just pretty—no, because that would be an understatement. You had the kind of presence that pulled attention without asking for it. Sharp eyes that missed nothing, a gaze that felt almost deliberate when it landed on someone, like you were choosing to see them.

You and Shoto were already seated at the far end of the restaurant, in one of the private booths, waiting for him.

Bakugo didn’t bother hiding the edge in his voice as he approached. “You two really picked a place like this just to talk?”

You smiled while Shoto gestured calmly to the seat across you both.

Bakugo, for the first time in his life, was speechless. His brows weren’t furrowed anymore, which Shoto should’ve noticed after being classmates with him during highschool for 3 years. But alas, unfortunately for Bakugo, he didn’t give a damn about it.

He took a sharp inhale, and looked away. Away from the two of you that were all smiles at him as he tried to digest what you and his friend had just offered him. His eyes wandered around the restaurant, glossing over the people there over the glass panes of the private booth Shoto had rented for the meet up. There was a quiet murmur of people outside the booth, but all that rang in his ears were your words.

“I’m sorry? What?” he asked, turning back to look at the two of you now, because in his defense, Shoto would never ask things like that. The man was dense as fuck!

He stared at him like he was waiting for the joke, for the rest of the squad to pop up and scream at him that this was a prank. It wasn’t.

This is what gnawing at him for the past few weeks—you, and your suggestive and flirtatious comments and messages—and Shoto…Shoto who just never pushed back, denied, and who visibly enjoyed it. The following days was a blur to him. Your offer made him go blank,

There was definitely something wrong with the two of you to even think of setting something up like this. And there was definitely something wrong with him too that he hadn’t just allowed this to happen, but also leaned into it.

The turning point was a few days ago, when Shoto once again invited him. This time, it was his apartment. That alone—as he kept telling himself—should’ve made him refuse. So he went. Again.

He reached the edge of the small hallway where it opened into the living area and kitchen.

You were there.

At the stove, back turned to him, wearing something simple. Casual, almost careless in how it sat on you, the kind of outfit that didn’t try to demand attention—but somehow still did anyway. Not because it was revealing, but because it wasn’t trying to hide anything either. The ease of it made it worse.

You made it harder to look away. Bakugo clicked his tongue and looked away, annoyed and frustrated at the fact that he noticed as much, and by the fact that the front of his pants just got tighter.

Shoto noticed, and finally spoke up from behind him.

He walks up to him, “If you do not want to, just say it. We won’t force you to.” he says, face blank as ever. Bakugo grimaces, his ego slightly hit.

“I mean,” Shoto stared at him, squinting his eyes as if studying him. “we could always find someone else to join in. She and I aren’t particularly picky.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowd as he looked back at him.

“We’ll just have to manage if you’re not up for it,” he adds, “We understand it isn’t something everyone would agree to. It’s just that she wanted you first.” he shrugged before making his way to the kitchen.

It should’ve calmed Bakugo down, cause it sounded practical, reasonable. Logical. But it didn’t. It hit his ego hard and something lit up.

-

And now, there was no turning back. Not when they had you like this.

Katsuki let out a harsh laugh, never breaking rhythm. “Shut up, icy-hot! F-fuck! ha…ya think you could just replace me after relentlessly offering me shit?!” his voice thunders with frustration and amusement, the air around him crackling as his sweat drips.

Shoto, in turn, raises an eyebrow. “Is that what got you so worked up?” he taunts once again, as if knowing exactly how Katsuki would react. He was right.

“Oh, fuck you! sh-shit!” his pace stutters as you clench harder this time, unconciously driving him near the edge as your body aches with pleasure.

“‘tsuki….shiiit, you’re so—ha—big!” you moan out, pain and pleasure mixing as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. You let your arms roam, finding Shoto’s hand.

Bakugo flipped you over, not even bothering to pull out, which made the friction inside mid-blowing. Your slick, aiding in his free movements, made him chuckle even more, never bothered hiding his amusement.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart,” he grunts, a feral grin spreading across his face. “Fucking love hearing you like this. Should’ve agreed to this sooner.”

Shoto, your dearest boyfriend, closing the space between you, his touch gentle but deliberate as his fingers traced you jaw and the curve fo your throat. The skin there was sensitive, a quiet reminder of the night that had already taken its toll on you—your voice softer now, worn from everything you’d let slip past your lips.

“You can still take it, right baby?” he asks, voice tenderly caressing your ears, as if lulling you. And you, poor you, overstimulated and drunk from the amount of ecstasy and adrenaline you fell, nodded obiediently like a puppy.

Shoto smiles. Not the kind that people usually saw. No. Not at all. Because he was a freak. That should’ve been obvious from the moment he suggested this.

“Open up, baby.”

He ruts his cock in your mouth, each inch stretching the muscles of your throat as you try not to gag. You’ve taken his dick in your mouth many times now, since you two got physical, but up until now, all you could do is tear up and gurgle as his tip touches the base of your throat. Above you, Shoto sees his girth move against your throat as his hands wrap tightly around it.

Bakugo sees it too, which sends him into another frenzy. Letting ….

“F-fuck! Your pretty little thing is perfect for this,” he groans, slapping your thighs and watching them jiggle as he pounds into you continously. “Such a pretty cunt too.” he chuckles, letting his thumb run through your sopping wet folds. A creamy white ring formed around the base of his cock, while the frothy slick clung all over your folds.

Shoto moans as your tongue tries to play with the underside of his dick. “Mhm…she drains everything out of me too. So tight…” he comments, letting his hands roam your body until it reaches your legs, hooking each hand under your knee and pulling them up until they touch your ears. “Especially tighter when you hit it like this.” he adds as he himself picks up his pace while fucking your throat.

This position enables Bakugo to see everything. Your cunt, spread wide and obscenely, your pretty little holes fluttering under their stares and the weight of Bakugo’s cock.

You weren’t complaining about this. Not even a little. Not at all.

They enjoyed watching you, sweaty and overstimulated, their juices mixed with yours from the past hours of fucking, and now Katsuki once again planning to fill you to the brim.

Shoto’s hips stutter, and you realize he’s close. He eases slowly, as if savoring the moment he had your mouth on his dick, sucking and playing with the veins you very adored. His eyes meet your glossy ones, and there you see an animalistic desire. It excited to. But, as if reading your thoughts, Shoto pulled his cock out of your mouth , deliberately edging himself before tapping your cheeks with the tip of his cock, both pre-cum and you saliva spreading across your face.

Katsuki scoffs, “Coward.” he jeers without breaking rhythm.

“give—give me a minu—ahh!” You entire body stiffens, your gummy walls clenching around Bakugo, as his entire body in turn goes rigid. A guttural sound tore from his throat.

“Fuck! little slut!” his hips bucked wildly against your pelvis before repositioning you both. With a grunt of effort, he lifted you off the bed entirely, your legs spread wide and unconsiosly wrapped around his waist as he stood fully upright. Your chest against his.

“oh, there it is,” he rasped, arm locked around your waist and the other spreading the cheeks of your ass open. “I don’t know if you got tighter in this position or looser. fuck it, we ball.” he smirks and glances at Shoto as if waiting.

Shoto remains placid at first as he observed the display. His heterochromatic eyes traced the lines of her body and felt his heart beating too fast now. His dick jumps as Katsuki brings his large hand on your ass, a small spark igniting making your skin jiggle and red from the contact. You scream at that, feeling more than a slap, but rather a tiny explosion. did he just?

“Want us both, sweetheart? yeah?” Katsuki cooes, moving slightly as you whimper at the movement, far too overstimulated.

Shoto approached, steam slowly dancing along his skin. He positioned himself behind you, chest against your back as Bakugo held you up. He smirks, letting ice form around his finger and slowly tracing the curve of your body with it. Both men watch you shudder and moan, which leads them to an enticing solution.

You liked having them use their quirks. If that wasn’t so obvious.

Shoto’s smirk widened as he brought his ice-covered fingertip to your bare breast, swirling it around until it reaches your nipples. Frost bloomed across the sensitive peak, making it pucker and harden further.

“ahhhh…sho,” a sharp gasp escaped your lips as their minstrations sent sparks shooting through your nervous system. Bakugo’s hand still on your ass, setting out tiny sparks that travel like electricity to your weeping pussy, and Shoto’s right finger, spreading frost across your breasts. Both stimuli leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“you like that, baby?” he asks, voice gentle as ever but held a predatory fascination.

You arched into Shoto’s direction instantly, letting your finger thread through his soft locks behind you as his fingers continue their assault. Bakugo, on the other hand, feels a surge of jealousy and fascination as he watches. by the gods, you are beautiful like this.

Katsuki’s rough hand, still on your ass, spread your cheeks wider than seemed possible, exposing the tight pink ring of muscle to the humid air of apartment. A smug grin twisted his features as he watched Shoto align himself.

“Hurry up, pervert.” he growled, slowly regaining his rhythm. “Don’t wanna keep this perfect little hole waiting,” he gloats, running hus thumb around the rim, setting off a few tiny sparks once again, making you convulse in pleasure.

he smirks, his voice a hot echo against his ear. “Bet you’ve been dying for someone here too, huh?”

Shoto’s expression remained serene and moved with grace, positioning himself behind you. The pink tip of his dick, which was far too pretty to belong to a man, nudged insistently against your entrance, slick with pre-cum.

“Relax for me, baby,” he coaxes, pressing his tip against the tight rim. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, coaxing you to relax against their bodies.

With deliberate care, Shoto pressed forward slowly. the initial stretch was intense, making you grunt in pain, clutching to Bakugo’s arms for support. He in turn, presses kisses that are far too soft for a man like him.

“Relax, yeah? we’ve got you, pretty.” he soothes, voice far too soft in contrast to the sparks that ignites from his hands. You nod, hissing at the contact.

Every inch of Shoto’s entry drew a sharp gasp from you, your body tensing around the dual intrusion. You gummy walls clenched tightly around Bakugo’s girth, earning a guttural sound from him—half groan, hald whine—while you simultaneously struggled to accomodate Shoto’s shaft from behind.

Their cocks weren’t that different from one another. Katsuki’s was thicker than it is longer, with veins adorning his shaft, a reddish brown bulbous tip, and slightly curved to the right. Whereas, Shoto’s was the opposite: longer than it is thick, a pretty shade of pink as his tip, and did not curve at all. Both was now prying you open.

“That’s it,” Shoto praised softly, his hands gripping your hips firmly. “Take us both like the good girl you are.” his movements, now paired with Katsuki’s, brought you overwhelming fullness. Shoto’s careful control contrasted sharplu with Katsuki’s wild abandon as they established a devastating rhythm. One would pull almost entirely free while the other drove deep, creating a constant state of overhwelming fullness followed by a tantalizing emptiness.

You on the other hand…

“oh—oh god! i—i can’t… fck more…” you gasped out, voice shaking with overwhelming pleasure. The feeling of two cocks sliding against each other through the thin walls of your insides was more than you’d ever imagined possible.

Katsuki’s laughter was dark and triumphant, the adrenaline that coursed through his body at this moment was much more than the adrenaline he had when fighting. “You love don’t ya?”

Your face contorted with pleasure as your body trembled with the familair tell-tale sign that ripples through your body. Your moans became louder, and both men just knew.

Shoto’s hands held your body, caressing your curves and rolls as he felt it. “Close, baby? C’mon, let go for us.” he murmured, his voice a husky edge.

Both men hammered their hips against yours as they took turns taking your lips into a seering hot kiss, far too gone in the haze of lust to care that the futon they were in was now a mess of tangled wet sheets.

A wave of pure white-hot bliss washed over you as your orgasm hit with a breathtaking force. Your vision blurred at the edges as your backed arched, nails digging into Katsuki’s biceps and Shoto shoulders.

As you clenched one last time, the men that sandwiched you kept their relentless pace, chasing their high: biting your shoulder and driving their own hips impossibly deeper as they both exploded inside with a guttural groan.

Katsuki’s body went rigid as his arms still held her as his sees floods her insides, his hot release pumping deep into her womb with several jerky thrusts. His hands, sparking even more now, remained pressed on your skin, sending bolts of sparks against your nerves. Shoto finished moments later, spilling into your ass with a quiet sigh of relief.

They pulled out, watching as both their fluids leaked out of the abused holes.

Such a pretty sight, was all they could think of.

As the night descended, your now washed bodies in new fresh clothes laid tangled underneath the now fresh sheets, the warmth of both men caging you against the chilly air of the night.

Although, for Shoto Todoroki, his consciousness stayed awake. Because at this moment, Bakugo’s figure all seemed too delectable for him.

an: im so sorry i didn’t know how to end it properly without it being that, cause lowkey it makes sense.

[eikyuuni]

izuku letting katsuki fuck his girlfriend ⭑.ᐟ mdni ᭝ threesome, unprotected p in v, creampie, brief cum play, lots of praise from izuku in the cuck chair

your cheek's pressed into the sheets, hands fisting in the fabric as katsuki fucks into you from behind. low grunts under his breath, jaw tight, pace relentless. his hands are rough on your hips, dragging you back into each thrust, hard enough so you feel every inch, every grind, every low, deep press of his cock as he fucks into that same aching spot over and over again.

izuku's curled close, lying on his side just... watching. one hand resting light on your thigh, the other tucked under his head, soft eyes flicking between your face and down to where katsuki's cock keeps disappearing into you.

"you're taking him so well," he murmurs, thumb brushing a little higher, just grazing the edge of your ass, the curve of your hip. his voice is soft, too soft for how filthy it makes you feel. "look at you, angel... you're so full, he's stretching you out so pretty."

you nod meekly, eyes glinting as a sharp gasp slips past your lips when katsuki fucks into you harder, as if he's punishing you for forgetting who's inside you.

izuku hums, dark eyes flicking to katsuki's before returning to yours, smiling. "i know, sweetheart... it's too much, huh?"

katsuki growls low behind you. a quiet, "shut the fuck up," as he slides a hand up to the back of your neck, palm warm against your skin as he presses in so deep you let out a choked, ah— katsuki

"that's it," izuku coos, completely unfazed. "just breathe through it. you're doing so good."

his hand smooths up your back, soothing and warm like he's trying to calm you down while he let's katsuki fuck you stupid right in front of him. like he's not hard under his sweats, cock pressed tight, precum spotting the fabric as he bites the inside of his cheek every time you moan.

"he's so mean, isn't he?" izuku murmurs, low near your ear. "but he always gives you exactly what you need. you should say thank you, baby," he encourages, lips pressing to the side of your neck. "go on, tell kacchan how thankful you are."

katsuki's cock twitches inside you with every word as you stutter out a quiet "t-thank you."

he lets out a curse under his breath as he drags his cock out, eyes focused on your slick coating him before he slams back in—hips flush to yours.

"you're gonna make him cum," izuku says sweetly, sliding one hand down between your thighs, fingers gentle and warm as they dip past where katsuki's cock is still fucking into you, slow just for a moment so neither of them miss the way you jerk when izuku touches you there—firm pressure pressing into you, brushing past katsuki's cock where it's stretching you out, slick and messy and so tender it makes you cry out.

"that's it," izuku murmurs, thumb catching right over your clit, a teasing flick, "there you go. we've got you."

katsuki groans as he lifts your hips a little more to angle deeper. "shit—" he bites out, "she's squeezin' me so tight."

you sob into the sheets. izuku's hand doesn't let up, while katsuki's pace stutters hard, hips snapping into you.

"keep talkin' to her like that, she's gonna cum. can feel it... keeps clenching every time you talk." katsuki mutters, eyes fixated on his cock glistening every time he pulls back just to hear you beg for more.

izuku just hums, "she wants to," he says, his own fingers coated in your slick as they keep moving slow against your clit now. "she's being so good for you kacchan. letting you fuck her that deep, letting me touch— being so brave, don't you think?"

katsuki drags you back onto him, hard, and it knocks a broken little sob out of your chest. "you hear that, baby?" katsuki grits, leaning in, mouth hot against your spine. "you're our good fuckin' girl, yeah?"

"y-yeah," you gasp, voice trembling as izuku presses a little firmer against your clit. "wanna be good for you both..."

"we know, sweetheart," izuku coos, soft and breathless, curling a little closer to you, nose bumping into your cheek as he presses soft kisses there. "you're doing so good. we know it's a lot."

"is it too much for you?" katsuki mumbles, pressing his own lips against your skin, "or you just like whinin' for us?"

you shake your head fast, fingers fisting tighter into the sheets, "no! don't stop, please... i-i'm gonna—"

"yeah?" he growls, fucking you through it harder. "you gonna cum all over my cock, baby? gonna let me feel it?"

"she's right there," izuku whispers beside you. "let it happen. we've got you."

it hits hard—blinding heat sparking deep and low as your body goes rigid, pussy clenching around katsuki so hard he swears, stutters, and slams in once, choking on a groan as he cums with you.

"fuck— i'm cummin'—" katsuki gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips twitch, cock pressing deep and grinding through it as he spills into you in warm thick pulses.

izuku hums beside you, his fingers wet with your release coming up to stroke your thigh, before pressing a kiss to your temple and muttering, "that's it... that's our girl."

katsuki's grip trembles against your hips when he exhales against your skin. chest rising and falling against your back, hands smoothing up and down your sides before he pulls out.

still braced as he drags his cock free—covered in your release, flushed, and still twitching a little. he watches the way your pussy flutters from the loss. watches how wet and ruined you are. how his cum spills out of you, dripping past your thighs and pooling where your legs are still spread.

"fuckin' hell..." katsuki mutters, fingers reaching down to drag through the mess, smiling when your body twitches from the sensitivity.

izuku's fingers are still brushing lightly over your skin. "she looks pretty, huh?"

you try to hide your face in the sheets, body still too shaky to move, still panting—and izuku leans in to press another gentle kiss to your cheek, "did so good for us," he whispers.

"too good," katsuki mutters, rubbing a hand over your ass and squeezing gently, watching another thick drip slide down and groaning under his breath. "fuck, look at this mess..."

your body twitches again at the roughness in his voice, involuntarily, over-sensitive, and izuku just watches it happen—eyes dragging slow between your thighs where katsuki's cum still glistens across your pussy and drips out of you in lazy trails.

he hums, thoughtfully. before shifting closer. lowering himself a little. hands gentle as they slide over your thighs to ease them apart again, despite the way they tremble in protest. despite the soft noise you make when the cool air hits.

katsuki catches the movement from the corner of his eyes and snorts, still breathless, "you're such a fuckin' perv."

izuku just smiles, pretty and flushed and way too focused on the mess. "mhmm," he hums, breath ghosting low, just before he leans in, "i'm just cleaning it up."

you barely have time to register the first warm press of his tongue—slow and gentle, licking a stripe through the slick mess between your thighs of both yours and his best friends' release, the tip of his tongue brushing your clit—before he hums low in his throat, hands tightening around your hips like he's settling in, like he's not stopping until there's nothing left.

a/n a repost from my old & inactive blog eikyuunimain (mariinktg) so if it looks familiar, that's why! likes and reblogs are much appreciated! | mha masterlist

[tonycries]

Walk Em Like a Dog - C.K.

Synopsis. Name: Choso Kamo. Age: 23 Hybrid type: Canis lupus familiaris AKA puppyboy. Diagnosis: He’s in rut, and who does he need? His pretty owner—you!

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, dog hybrid!Choso, hybrids AU, puppyboy!Choso, RÚTS, pheromones, sheIters, companionship programs, hybrid parks, COLLARS, Ieashes, he Iikes it (a Iot), tail wagging, possessive Choso, use of ‘mistress’, use of ‘ma’am’, PÚSSYDRÚNK Choso, first tímes (Choso), oraI (f + brief m), spítting, teaching, manhandIing, he’s just so DESPERATE to pIease you, p worship, pánty-steaIing, stepping on him, finishing early (him), stamina, fíngering, begging, asking for permission, overstímuIation, p sniffing, he’s GONE, Choso with tattoos, ríding him stupid, he’s BlG, making it fit, feeIing for it, cervíx smoochin, BIG stretches, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, miIking him, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, mátes, bonding bites, KNOTS, implied marathons, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 14.4k

A/N. Mwahahah you babygirls asked so daddy provides…

The forums online told you there was nothing to worry about.

Each with their smooth, structured message boards and those advertisements for the country’s best hybrid supplements (‘Buy your companion these chew-safe sweaters NOW!’); and their respective hybrid owners each with queries quite similar to your own. 

“Hybrid has started taking my clothes [URGENT]!”

“Is my hybrid sick? Clothes disappearing, feverish, etc…”

“How do your hybrids let you know if they aren’t feeling good?”

To the symptoms that most-closely aligned with your own canine hybrid’s, the most popular conclusion by the panel of amateurs was that they were likely feeling the effects of the changing seasons. Hybrids, particularly purebreds, were more susceptible to heat and weather than humans like yourself. 

And so you’d forgone the call to your hybrid specialist, Dr. Shoko, for now—in favor of helping Choso keep cool as much as possible, and supporting him through these motions. 

Until today: when you’re folding your laundry and realizing that half your underwear drawer was missing.

As you’re opening up the rickety wooden drawer even further, it clatters mockingly up at you. At your flabbergasted expression—you were sure it’d been at least a third more full the last time you opened it up. At the way you’re bending down and peering in, as if expecting to see the rest of your panties and bras somehow hidden away inside.

Nothing.

You shut the drawer and straighten up silently.

The rest of your laundry sits idly at the foot of your bed, though the last thing on your mind was attempting to finish your folding. You don’t think you could’ve succeeded in doing so even if you tried. 

Because you already know who did this.

Hell- there was only one other person living in your snug Tokyo apartment. It would be impossible not to be him.

Your roommate of five months.

Your hybrid.

The ever-nervous, ever-sweet, ever-handsome Choso Kamo.

You remember the day you got him as if it was yesterday: that phone call that changed everything. The massive hybrid shelter in your neighborhood had been holding an adoption program; in which humans could sign up to be caretakers and companions for hybrids freed from large-scale mills and facilities that raced to churn out the most purebred hybrids. All shapes and species—from the deep underbelly of having a society where humans and hybrids co-existed. 

Mostly temporarily, of course - until the hybrids chose to pursue jobs, education, and whatever else it is that they wanted to do. 

Tokyo JSH (Jujutsu Shelter for Hybrids) wasn’t just a simple rescue operation; but their territories spanned far and wide from medical facilities, to rehabilitation, to temporary homes, to this current matching program that let the public get a more hands-on method to volunteer. Led by Ieri Shoko - a caracal hybrid herself - it was one of the most famed for their sheer number of hybrids taken in and reassimilated into society. You yourself had volunteered for JSH on a few occasions. 

And having a soft spot for hybrids, you barely thought twice before signing up for this new program. 

The registration process had been long and tedious - though you didn’t blame them. Columns upon columns of forms to fill out. Towers upon towers of medical checks for you yourself. They investigated your apartment, they investigated your job, they investigated your personality and ability to house a troubled hybrid temporarily—until they could get back on their feet.

And even longer than the registration process had been the waiting process. 

It’d been months- almost a year before you heard back from the shelter - and by then, you’d begun to think that perhaps they hadn’t found you suitable after all. But then…then it’d happened.

Then you’d been rung by none other than Dr. Ieri Shoko herself. 

The fuzzy-eared doctor had asked you to come into the shelter the very next day, if you were still up to it- and of course, you were up to it!

Spiffed and spruced. Smoothing down your best outfit - for you did want to give a good first impression - you were outside the doors to Tokyo JSH before they’d even been unlocked. The teenage employee in charge of opening those double doors had shot you a strange look as you waited patiently for them, but that didn’t matter—you were about to meet your newest roommate. 

Of course, you were aware that it wouldn’t be all sunshine and daisies and- and whatever else the saturated infomercial playing on loop inside the shelter lobby showed. But at the very least, you hoped by the end of this, you’d be making a lifelong friend out of this - to help someone without expecting anything back…if not a friend then you hoped you’d at least be making a change. And that’s why you were here.

Dr. Shoko had entered the shelter not too long after the infomercial’s 50th loop. 

She seemed somewhat surprised to see you here so early - no doubt the first volunteer she was seeing for the day - though her effortlessly composed features didn’t betray a thing. You, however, were feeling a churning amalgamation of nervousness and excitement that you’re sure showed. 

Though she was kind enough not to point it out, “You’re here early.” And with that, you were being led to the separate patients’ ward.

The air was thick with saline and tension—and the acrid smell of adrenaline. Bed after bed. Each one had their white curtains drawn, and out of respect you didn’t dare peek inside - instead you kept your eyes fixed firmly on where you were going.

So much so that once Shoko stopped in her tracks, you almost bumped into her back. 

Hastily, you looked up to find that…this, too, was a bed obscured by thick white curtains. Only, that was where the similarities between this hybrid and the others stopped: lost in your whirlwind of thoughts, you hadn’t realized that Shoko had led you to the sole bed at the end of the hallway - the one at least twenty-five meters away from all the other hybrid patients. 

Solitary. Silent—no hums or growls that emanated from beyond the opaque partitions. 

Sectioned off, almost. 

It made you wonder just what sort of hybrid - you looked at the chart hung up at the foot of the bed - Choso Kamo would be. 

According to the other notes on the chart, they were a dog hybrid like most of the others here—Canis lupus familiaris. And to be more specific, Choso was said to be a Great Dane. 

And though you had better manners than to engross yourself in someone else’s medical chart, you couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to read even further. Quickly finding out other such details like his gender, his age, his height (6’4 was to be expected as a Great Dane hybrid…but nonetheless absolutely massive), and even his rescue from-

“An underground fighting ring.” Shoko told you in a measured tone, and you’d picked up on the fact that she didn’t want to disturb the hybrid inside those curtains. “It’s not often that we’re able to rescue hybrids from fighting rings- alive, that is. Though they remain our toughest problem.”

Your mouth felt parched, “I…I see.”

“This hybrid was lucky—he was said to be their top fighter. But no one lasts long in an underground fighting ring.” She looked at you solemnly, “No one. And before we proceed, I need you to understand what you’re getting yourself into. I know how much you love helping hybrids - I’ve seen you ‘round here almost every week - but I need you to understand that Choso might not be the easiest companion.”

You nodded seriously.

“It’ll take him some time- and on some occasions he might even lash out.” Shoko gestured to the other beds - namely the distance between them. “We’ve had to separate him from the other hybrids as well.”

You looked from them and back, “But surely he’s not dangerous-”

“No.” She shook her head, “He’s hurt. He’s powerful. But most of all, he’s highly intelligent.” Her ears twitch, and there’s a small quirk at the edge of her painted lips, as though a smile—“All he needs is some love and care, and someone kind enough to wait for him…which is exactly why I chose you.”

And how could you not help Choso Kamo after that?

So she’d peeled back the curtains and oh…and inside had been perhaps one of the largest hybrids you’ve ever seen. One of the most magnificent. 

Even for a purebred, Choso’s drooping ears were covered in the darkest, glossiest coating of chestnut brown. They’d perked up even before you’d entered - no doubt hearing every single nervous breath you were trying to regulate - and they stayed on alert even as he caught sight of you. His sharp canines made an appearance. His powerful tail whipped. 

And yet, even with his features twisted into something unwelcoming, you found the wind knocked out of you at the utter beauty of his features.

They were prominent and pretty. As though carved by the most delicate of hands: those slightly downturned eyes of his, the pertness of his mouth, those high cheekbones. 

There was a glint of something unforgiving in the depths of his chocolate irises, however, as though weathered through the years. Something honed. 

Sitting up on his bed, his gaze narrowed as you entered his space- and a slightly feral growl had left Choso’s lips. His toned body was naked beneath the clinical blankets, and he gripped them as if he was ready to fling them off and attack-

You slowly took a step backwards - something other than fear. You understood how it felt to want to be alone for some time.

And sitting on the empty bed beside him, you waited in silence as he realized you weren’t here to attack—and leaned back into his crisp mattress. Though he still looked slightly wary of you, you didn’t hesitate before introducing yourself and launching into a conversation - rather one-sided at the time, but a conversation nonetheless. 

Shoko had smiled and left the two of you alone for now. Meanwhile you spoke of your day, your job, the weather outside and- did he like the food here? What were his favorite foods? 

Despite the fact that Choso didn’t answer a single one of your gentle questions, you weren’t deterred. And it wasn’t long before you’d looked up at the clock on the end of the hallway—and realized that it was nearly past visiting hours. Choso himself had seemingly come to the same conclusion, as he watched your eyes drift back to him.

And you’d only had one more question left for him.

“Do you want to come with me?”

And he’d given you a single, short answer—in a deep baritone that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in years. “Yes.”

From then on it’d been a short few hours of paperwork - much shorter than your initial registration - to get Choso officially situated in your apartments. In a week’s time he was discharged from JSH and gathering his sparse belongings (nothing but a broken collar) to move in with you in your Tokyo nook.

Your first outing together had been to buy him all sorts of new clothes and necessities and a collar - something that you didn’t think Choso would like. But Shoko had recommended you get one, just in case.

And so there had been a pretty, pink-colored collar with your name on it—fitted to Choso’s size—jostling around at the bottom of your shopping bags as you dragged the Great Dane hybrid from store to specialized hybrid store. 

The first day had been a little awkward…you introduced Choso to the guest’s bedroom that was now all his - and he’d locked himself in there for about two days. Only coming out once he’d completely and fully immersed himself inside, once he’d finally gotten used to the sense of a place—a place that was his own. 

Following had been a blurred few weeks of attempting to get used to one another in this limited space. Choso himself wasn’t all that bad of a roommate, to be honest - he’d spoken to you in bits and pieces whenever he felt like it, gathering up after himself, and letting you know whenever he liked your cooking. And you scoured for these interactions like a man in search of an oasis in the desert, after prolonged summer after summer, after prolonged heatwave after heatwave.

You weren’t even sure why you were drawn to him so much- sure, Choso Kamo was one attractive being. Especially when he was walking around the apartment after a shower, in nothing but a slightly-dampened towel…

But more than that—he was just so damn sweet.

You came to understand that the more you found out about him. 

It started off small: the charred attempt at preparing breakfast for you in the second week he was here, the shy way he’d tug at your collar - despite being such an intimidating size - whenever he encountered another dog hybrid in public. He followed you around everywhere—everywhere. He waited right outside the door for you whenever you went to work.

And come to find that…Choso wasn’t the strong, seethingly silent type you’d initially assumed at all. He was smart. He was funny. He was such a sweetheart.

Soon enough, once he’d opened up to you in the coming months, you’d come to find that Choso actually loved sappy romance movies (and he cried at the end every time), Choso loved making little treats for you whenever you were down, Choso loved cuddlin’ up to after a long day at work. Perhaps it was unconditionally true what they say about Great Danes being ‘gentle giants’ - because Choso Kamo was the gentlest giant of them all. 

And after five months, the two of you were what you could honestly consider good rommates—good friends, actually. Though the housing situation was meant to be temporary until the hybrid was able to get a place of their own - and/ or wanted to - you could honestly see yourself living with Choso for the rest of time. 

Who would have thought?

Though the collar still sat collecting on one of your cabinets. You hadn’t brought it up, and Choso - despite eying it from time to time - hadn’t asked, either. 

Everything had been perfect—that is, until about a few weeks ago when your clothes had started disappearing.

It started off with a jacket here, a bracelet there, and then something you couldn’t ignore - an ugly Christmas sweater from the last holidays (that you honestly weren’t upset to see go). And you could’ve let it slide had it been limited to these souvenirs that you wouldn’t mind never having to think of ever again. 

But your underwear? 

Not only was it your underwear, but it was about half your entire drawer? Perhaps even more so? All those lacy black numbers n’ those matching sets, all those expensive lingerie you’d treated yourself to and even a few of those grandma panties with holes in them- you couldn’t help but wonder just what your hybrid needed these for…

Nesting wasn’t as common for dog hybrids, right? Besides, Choso had a perfectly comfortable bed that you knew he loved and adored. 

To be honest, there was one person in the forums who’d suggested that perhaps those aforementioned hybrids were veering into ruts and heats- though, they’d gotten downvoted to hell.

And though you’d considered the possibility…that certainly wasn’t the case this time, right?

You’d read up on the matter prior to meeting Choso, and you knew that that particular period occurred every two to three months for a hybrid. But in the five months since getting to know him, and since worming your way into his good graces, Choso had never shown any indication of a rut. 

Not even the slightest glimpse of it.

And that was certainly alright - some hybrids simply didn’t have certain proclivities, or perhaps their pheromones didn’t overtake them as such. But your question remained: if Choso hadn’t started his rut then, why would it start now? There must be another explanation, surely. 

And so you’re still mulling over the possibilities as you’re trudging your way to him- knock-knock-knocking on the door to his bedroom. Choso opens the door instantly - as he always did when it came to you - and you’re somewhat taken aback at the sudden…shirtlessness that you’re bestowed with.

Clearly fresh out of the shower.

With his long hair untied, wet tips reaching his broad shoulders- with glistening droplets of water slipping down his hairline and down the middle of his chest. With a tattooed No. 1 on the sculptured ridges of his right v-line. With his toned chest slightly panting—at the sight of you.

Choso’s flushed lips part-

“Cho…” At the sound of your voice uttering his cute nickname, Choso’s long tail immediately starts wagging. And you’re finding it hard to keep the sternness in  your voice, “I didn’t disturb you, did I? I just wanted to ask whether you wouldn’t happen to know where my erm- underwear disappeared, would you?”

And at that- his eyes go slightly wide. “U-underwear?”

And you’d almost have been fooled by the innocent blush that spread across his cheeks…if it wasn’t so damning, that is. “Yes. Underwear, Cho. Where is it?”

“And you’re asking me—?” He pleads.

“My panties didn’t just grow legs and walk, Choso.” You cross your arms with a sigh, “They’re not magical.”

“…I think you’re magical.”

Somewhat catching you off-guard—“You can’t just-” And you feel something flip at the pit of your stomach, “Don’t think you’re going to wiggle your way out of this, okay? I need my underwear back before tomorrow- unless you want me to go to work pantyless-”

His canines slip out with a growl, muscles rippling as he shivers. “Never.”

“Then you better- return them.” You’re wagging your finger strictly at him, to which he lets a sheepish smile escape.

He places a hand on the top of the doorway - a gesture of nervousness, surely. “Y-yes, ma’am.” That little nickname you’d told him time and time again not to use—why so formal? But you can’t help but notice the bulge of his swole muscles, still dappled in the dampness of the shower. 

And to hide the flip in your stomach - again - you’re sighing and looking away from the vision of Choso before you. 

You could still hear the fervent wagging of his tail.

“Wanna go out for a wal-”

“Yes.”

.

.

.

“Okay- ready, Cho?” Slipping your shoes on, you turn towards the hybrid that stood at the edge of the threshold.

Choso was never the type to be leashed whenever the two of you went on walks - you suppose that came with his seeming distaste for the collar. He’d meander along beside you, and though you’d been nervous about losing him the first few times, Choso had proved himself to be loyal and steadfast by your side. Never wandering off too far, even when he was exploring in the hybrid park.

And right now—he was shuffling shyly. “Y-yes…”

You frown, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing-” He replies hastily, putting on his own shoes and getting ready to follow you out the door. But even so…his eyes drift beyond the threshold. “It’s just…”

“Hey…” You’re lowering your voice- and the tension bleeds out of his shoulders as you reach out and gently hold onto his arm. “You can tell me anything, y’know?”

And that’s what makes him finally muster up the courage- “I want to put on the collar, ma’am.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

And who were you to say no to that?

And it feels as if you’re walking on air as you go up to the cabinet and pull those glass doors open - taking out that pretty, pink collar you’d bought specifically for him. Slightly dust-bitten. Yet its heart-shaped pendant glimmers in the sunlight, your name etched onto there—Choso dons that name proudly as you’re fastening it onto his pale neck.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, alright?” Its metal buckle hisses coldly against his nearly-feverish skin: was he heating up? 

That prominent Adam’s apple of his bobs- “Mhm…”

Before long, the two of you find yourselves walking down the summery pavement; it was a beautiful day and the balmy breeze kisses your cheeks. Clouds frothing. Birds twittering. You’re humming at the feeling of warm sunlight on your skin, contrasted by the unfamiliar coldness of that looped handle of the leash in your hands.

The thin, chain-linked length sways just a little—leading up, up, up to the collar wrapped around Choso’s throat. It lets off a metallic sound that melds with the bustling noises drifting from your local hybrid park - you hadn’t had Choso for long before you found out about this place.

And ever since about your second or so week with him, you’d been going there almost daily. With Choso being so naturally shy, it was a good place for him to make friends and interact with someone that wasn’t just you—and bit by bit, you’d gotten the privilege of seeing him open up. Hell, he even had a few regular friends there. And by now, he looked forward to the park just as much as you did- except…today, Choso was pulling back a bit.

Not as though he wanted to leave, but as though he always wanted to be half a step behind. No matter how much you slowed down your own pace for him.

“C’mon, Cho.” You’re gently pulling on the grip of his leash, and yet it doesn’t give away anything. “We’re a little late, your friends will be leaving soon.”

He doesn’t answer.

“Choso?” Your fist tightens around the leash.

He doesn’t budge a single inch—in fact, he seems to slow down even further.

“Choso, come on-”

And then he’s letting out the softest, sweetest sound that makes you stop directly in your tracks- “N-ngh—” Something so unexpected. That you can only turn around and stare at him.

Choso fiddles with the zipper on his jacket, eyes downturned- and yet, you’d be able to make out that cute blush of his anywhere.

You attempt to take a peek at his expression, “Something wrong? D’you wanna go home, Cho?”

He shakes his head. “N-no…” And the fidgeting with that metallic nub grows even faster, Choso’s feet shuffling on the smooth, grey sidewalk. “It’s just…keep going at your own pace, ma’am.”

“My own pace? But isn’t that a little too fast for you today?” You probe.

And he nods, “Yes…” Barely even a whisper, “Keep doing that- k-keep pulling on my leash.”

Electricity zaps down your spine at his tone- oh, his tone. Currents of it leaving your mind a little fuzzy, and curdling somewhere between…

Choso raises his nose up into the air to sniff— with his honed senses, and you couldn’t start tugging on his leash fast enough. “A-alright then.” You weren’t sure to exactly what degree his senses were honed, but you didn’t doubt he could smell even the wetness of your cunt - it’s exactly why you’d tampered down proddin’ away at yourself with your vibrator after he’d moved in. 

And then he stalls so you pull once more- 

“Fuck-”

And you look towards him instantly, “Shit- I’m sorry. Did I pull too hard, Cho?”

“No-” He shakes his head immediately, “No, not at all.”

The tighter it was, the better.

The air feels more humid than it had once been—so much thicker. It’s enough that you feel like you can finally breathe only once you catch sight of the hybrid park; those swooping slides and those green, open spaces. Slides and tunnels. Stores and pathways.

You’re reaching up to unclip his leash, and Choso lets out a sheepish smile as he stops you. “I-I want to keep the collar on, is that okay?”

You’re stunned. “That’s perfectly alright, Cho.” And so you watch his tall figure stalk towards his usual group of companions, your name sparkling on the pendant between his collarbones. Perhaps you should ask him about this sudden change, but…you decide not to push it for now - perhaps it was still the weather that still had him all out of sorts. 

Deciding that you’d join him in playing just a little later - at least when your knees weren’t feeling as weak as they do right now - you sit down on one of the benches overlooking the park. It makes you smile to see Choso laugh and talk with his hybrid friends—such a stark difference from how he’d been when you first met him.

You were proud of him.

“Hey, Choso’s wearing a collar today?” A sudden voice makes you look up—and who else would it be but the ever-charming Kusakabe? You’d met the older man on your first visit to the hybrid park - and you were sure you’d been such a sight: awkward and standing by the edge of the park, a towering unleashed hybrid at your side, both of you unsure what to do. 

He’d been the one to reach out to you first- asking you whether you wanted to join him and his smaller, more welcoming canine hybrid. That had been the first time that you’d seen Choso interact with another hybrid without bearing his fangs. 

As a much more experienced hybrid owner than you, you admit that he’d helped you smoothen your journey as a new companion—vastly. All the best spots to eat here. All the hybrids to be steered clear of due to their aggressiveness. So it was practically routine to run into the dark-haired man during your days at the park, and so you flash him an easy smile. “He is, isn’t he? New development.”

“Pink. Looks good on him.” Kusakabe nods approvingly, arms crossed. “Everyday he surprises me.”

“Right?” And with a chuckle, you’re holding up the slender chainlink leash. “Though if he chooses to continue then I might just have to get something stronger…”

“Oh, I know just the place-” And Kusakabe sits down right next to you on the bench - thigh against thigh, arm against arm. You’re unable to say anything about anyone’s personal space before he’s pulling his phone out and gesturing for you to lean in—“There’s this shop downtown in Shinjuku I go to- the best discounts. It’s right beside the convenience store and the-”

And as soon as you blink, Kusakabe is ripped from his seat next to you.

And before you crouches Choso.

Though not as you know him. Not at all.

Choso bears his piercing canines and lets out a rumbling growl; muscles of his back shifting, body panting, claws protruding—and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew it was contorted into something of utter murder. And you weren’t sure whether this was just your imagination due to the tension of the incident…but did he seem somewhat…bigger? Veins popping. Back hulking. There was almost something…animalistic about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on- other than the fact that he was scarin’ off the others around you like a guard dog. He lets out another rumble of gnarled words and it’s enough to make every hair on your body raise.

“Stay away.” It’s about all you can make out.

You stand immediately, heart pounding. “Ch-Cho?” You reach towards him.

“Stay away.” 

Was that really him?

He repeats.

And then he repeats again.

And he repeats and he repeats- as if crazed. Kusakabe pales and wastes no time creating some much-needed distance between himself and the hybrid.

He bumps into his own cowering hybrid.

“Choso-”

“Stay away from my mat-” 

“Choso- enough.” And you finally manage to pull him back - he doesn’t even seem to register you beside him for a brief few seconds. Not until you force him to just fucking look at you—

And then - only then - do his claws retract, and the sharpness in his eyes fades just a little bit—turning into their usual chocolate-caramel brown once he turns them towards you. You look into his dilated peripherals and wonder whether he was really the same hybrid as just a few seconds before. 

Choso Kamo could easily overpower you, but he’s pulled by your arms easily. 

As you look around, you’re realizing that almost everyone in this vicinity of the park was staring at you. The hybrids nearby had their ears lowered. The owners were tugging on leashes of those same hybrids that refused to move- seconds away from danger and they were too afraid to move. Kusakabe himself was blindly reaching for his own companion. Hell, even the birds seemed to have stopped fluttering about—as though summer itself had been paused for this sudden feral coldness of your sweet Choso. You can’t help but let a shiver run through you as you imagine just what might have happened if you weren’t there to stop him. 

Choso would have torn that man to shreds. 

Without thinking twice, you loop a finger underneath his collar and pull him away- not even bothering with the leash anymore. Fuck…his skin was just feverish. “C’mon.” 

And for the first few tugs, Choso doesn’t respond—doesn’t dare to tear his eyes away from the trembling Kusakabe. But then you’re saying his name once more, “Choso.” He jolts as though hit with a thousand volts of electricity- and you’re quickly pulling him out of the park. Not even a second glance at the mess you’ve left behind, “We’re going home.”

He quietly responds from beside you, “Yes ma’am.” In a voice so heated. 

Collar tight on his neck.

Tight. Tight all throughout your speedy walk back home—even afterwards. And once you’re attempting to reach up and free him of that restraint- Choso flinches away from your hands faster than light. 

Starin’ straight at you with his dazed, darkened brown eyes he holds the buckled lock of the collar and crushes it with his bare hands.

Crushes it so that it cannot be removed.

.

.

.

“I don’t know, Shoko….” Nervously gnawin’ on your lower lip, you pace the hallway outside Choso’s room. Her response comes out as languid and reassuring as ever- but you can’t help but cast a concerned look at the closed door. Locked. “He’s just never acted like this—”

“Aggressive?” Comes her question, “Why, it might just be because of the increasing temperatures that hybrids-”

“No, not just being aggressive.” You struggle to articulate, “It’s just he’s being so…”

Because it hadn’t been just the collar incident after you’d gotten home from the park. Almost immediately afterwards, Choso had rounded the room a few times- alert. Alarmed. For a second there, you almost thought he’d caught onto a whiff of something else entirely—before he’d grabbed one of the throw pillows on your couch and rubbed his swollen scent glands down its puffed surface. 

Scenting.

Scenting was the act of coating an object, hybrid, or person in the pheromones of a hybrid; it’s said that they often feel more comfortable in a space if it reminds them of their own scent.

But to this extent?

You’d gotten used to Choso scenting the apartment during the first week of your cohabitating, but right now it was as if he was attempting to erase every single shred of evidence that anyone else had ever been inside this apartment. 

No one but him. No one but you.

That laptop charger that your coworker had touched last week? He’s gliding the smooth surface down the side of his throat, and replacing that scent instantly. That cushion your friends had sat on the last time they visited? That hair tie you’d washed with a different shampoo than your usual? Even the damn jacket that Kusakabe had brushed up against on the park-

That one, in particular, Choso was ripping away the scent most fervently. 

Until the apartment was saturated with his soft, sweetened vanilla scent. 

It smelled like a bakery here. 

Concerned, you’d attempted to then coax Choso into playtime- he refused. The first time he’d ever refused to spend quality time with you—not even when you’d pulled out his favorite axolotl toy. Thereafter he’d been draped across your living room couch for hours on end, panting, sickly; the only times he’d moved was to disappear into the bathroom every fifteen minutes. And each time he came out more and more feverish than before - flushed down to his chest, trembling just a little. Hands pressed between his thighs. What did that…

When you’d finally insisted that perhaps the two of you go see a doctor, he’d disappeared into his bedroom and refused to come out.

Not even when you’d knocked.

Not even when you’d called for dinner.

And you were two steps away from begging- but instead you’re regurgitating your woes to the ever-trustworthy Dr. Ieri Shoko. 

She listens to your day silently.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry…” Of course, the only thing she was doing by being so evasive was making you worry. “-and this is just a suggestion, of course-”

“Anything.” You’re pleading, “Just- anything that’ll make him feel better.”

She hums, and even through the phone it sounds knowing. “Have you ever considered that…” Somewhere in the distance, your hallway clock tick-tick-ticks away—and it feels as though your stomach flips just in time with its clanging announcement of the hour. “-perhaps Choso might be in rut?”

Breathless, “What?”

You hear the flipping of pages - presumably notes - from her side of the call. “It seems that in our care, Choso Kamo was yet to experience a rut. And from what little information we were able to gather from his previous…accomodation, the same can be said for there.”

“I thought Choso couldn’t get ruts?” It’s surprising that your voice manages to be so steady. 

“Perhaps so.” Shoko answers, “But that is merely a medical assumption.”

Your brows furrow, “W-what are you saying?”

And she sounds as sage as ever, “What I’m saying is that there is no evidence to suggest that Choso can experience a rut-” You’re just about to open your mouth in agreement. “-however, there is no experience to suggest the contrary, either.” More flipping pages—“For all we know, the lack of a rut period for this hybrid could be a result of the high-pressure environment that he’d been placed in since his mature years. We’ve certainly seen as much- though, I never did think that this would be such a case.”

And you just about can’t believe what you’re hearing—“Wait- so you’re saying that Choso can experience a rut…all because he’s finally feeling comfortable?”

“Safe, is the more likely option.” She corrects, “Though comfortable isn’t incorrect, either. As well as open, happy, attracted-”

You reel- “Attracted? To who—?”

There’s a slight pause.

“I might be no optometrist-” She deadpans, “-but rest assured that I’m not blind.”

A sudden rush of something in your veins—“A-and what can I do to help him through this…rut?”

“At this stage? Find him a mate.” Shoko answers, and there’s shuffling from the other end of the line. “Or be his mate.”

You’re speechless.

“Good luck!”

A tone rings. The call is over.

And you’re left alone in your Tokyo apartment- alone with the massive puppyboy that was in the throes of his rut. 

The door feels taller - more intimidating - than you remember it being when it’d been nothing but an empty guest’s room. But now it had meaning to it…it had someone inside that you cared about. Cared about to an extent that perhaps you never thought you would—fuck. Before you know it, you’d been standing motionless outside Choso’s doorway for a few minutes.

And you’re sure he can smell your heady wetness from inside.

And once you’re jolting back to your senses, you realize that your legs had lugged you as clooooose to it as you can go - had already put a hand on the doorknob that you don’t remember putting there. 

You twist it open.

And the wave of pheromones that hits you is enough to bring you to your knees. 

The flurry of vanilla sweetness, of the sunshine of early morning, of the warmth that comes from days spent at the beach—it all envelopes you like a whirlwind set to devour you whole. First it’s taking presence in your lungs, then your brains, then your cunt. Quite literally- you grasp onto the wooden beam of the doorway in an attempt not to embarrass yourself.

But you don’t think that Choso was in the presence of mind to care.

You don’t think he even notices you enter at first.

He’s buck-naked on top of his bed. All twisted up in slightly-dampened sheets, he looked like a Renaissance painting; with his meaty thighs spread wiiiiiiide and his angry red cock throbbing between his legs, with his entire body covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, with his tail not even wagging anymore, with his pinkish mouth parted and letting out the prettiest whine after whine as he fucks up into his fist.

Up and up.

Again and again.

He still has his collar on him.

Every muscle in his nearly-Herculean body twitching as he does so. Abs tensing. Biceps bulging—

Dribbles of sap explode from his tip like a damn fountain- leaving his hand glistening in layers of sticky glue-like substance. Shaft pulsing in the air. Heavy balls twitching once-twice- If it isn’t just the filthiest sight you’ve ever seen…he cums. 

With the most pornographic cry of your name falling from his lips. 

And from the puddle right below those ruttin’ hips of his, you wonder just how many times he’s cum to the thought of you before.

Choso gliiiiides his palm down his aching shaft to drag out his high. Again and again.

Pump after pump.

And it’s only once those sticky white droplets of seed have petered out that he’s finally attempting to crack his eyes open. Long lines of tears glimmer down his cheeks, and you think he just looks so pretty whimperin’ out your name as the last few ropes of his cum empty out of his cock. Letting his sweaty head slump back against the pillows, Choso’s chest heaves as he attempts to catch his breath before—

Oh- and how is he supposed to catch his breath when you’re standing there - so beautiful and fuckable - in front of him? Jaw dropped. 

Unbeknownst to himself, Choso’s tail starts wagging.

Unbeknownst to you, your thighs are pressing together. 

And he lifts his sensitive nose in the air once more taking—one sniff, two sniff. Like cherries. It’s all he needs to register in that hazed brain of his that you’re completely and utterly soaked through those panties you weren’t wearing. 

He wasn’t exactly doing anything lewd, but you think you’ve never felt more exposed.

Pulling down the hemline of your short, short skirt, you gasp- “Ch-Choso.”

And he flinches.

As if you’re struck him down to his very core—there’s something carnal there that shifts within Choso’s eyes and obscures anything of the sweet hybrid that you knew. His body trembles as he heaves to a stand beside the bed - and it’s just then that you’re realizing that in his rut, Choso was much bigger than you normally knew him to be. He was taller. Bulkier.

Just as he had been at the park, it’s like a more base part of him had taken over. Invaded. 

Those claws of his drag down the soft covers of the bed and tear it to shreds without even trying- and you start to wonder what that might just mean for you…

He’s oozing power you knew he had- you knew he had, but never knew he’d think to harness as he crosses the bedroom in nothing but three strides. 

And he kneels before you in a shorter amount of time.

Kneels. 

Like it’s where he was always meant to be, beneath you like this, those capped knees of his strike the carpet with two thuds! Hard enough that it should hurt a normal human, though not even the faintest glint of pain registers in Choso’s eyes - so dilated now that they were almost completely engulfed in blackness. 

His milky thighs squeeze around your calves. Which inadvertently means you can feel his cock grow even harder than before…

From your feet, he’s peering up at you with an expression akin to worship—clammy fingers grasping desperately at your skirt. They’re sliding just beneath - where his feverishly hot skin sizzles against your own - and a sudden pang of neediness shoots through your every blood vessel. 

The air in the room suddenly feels hotter. Sweeter.

And you’ve always wanted Choso Kamo, but those pheromones he’s jetting out makes you feel almost dizzily greedy to feel him-

“Ma’am…” Choso’s voice quivers out—husky. But it wasn’t in the way that made him sound demanding- no, it was veering on the edge of an unsteady pleading. His unfairly handsome face cocks ever-so-slightly to the side, and he’s looking up at you through his loooong dark lashes. Puppydog eyes. “-permission to eat you out?”

You’re nodding so rapidly that your head bumps against the wall you’re pressed up against- hips bucking towards him, and he only yearns even closer with a whimper. “Yes—” You’re uttering out, “Yes, pl-”

But you didn’t think that Choso Kamo would ever make you beg for him, did you?

Hell, he should be the one begging—just to taste you. Just to sniff your pretty pussy. Just to tip his head slightly backwards and let those ropes of clingy sap leak down his tongue aaaaaaall the way down to his throat. His pheromones leave him in gusts, rendering the hybrid more n’ more ruined every time you’re blinking down at him. “Permission to swallow, ma’am?”

“You may.”

You witness the exact moment that Choso Kamo tastes you on his tongue for the first time.

Because his powerful, hybrid tail starts to wag harder than you’ve ever seen it. Because he groans. Because a primal noise escapes him that sounds like the most erotic music to yours eardrums—“Fuck.” Choso’s eyes go slightly wide. “Fuh-fuck…”

With the wettest, most lecherous plap! that mouth of his drops even further ajar. To plaster more of you across his maw. 

You’re the sweetest things he’s ever had the pleasure of smelling- with or without pheromones. 

His Adam’s apple bobs with the wads of your pussy’s needy juices slippin’ straight into his gullet. Pressing himself so close to you that he’s physically unable to breathe through his nose- Choso wastes no time before clawin’ onto both sides of your hips and plastering your sticky, syrupy pussy all over his mouth. 

Just wide open.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses. 

“Sh-shiiiiit—” Gasping, your hands snake down to grab onto Choso’s sweaty locks. They were practically pitch-black with perspiration by this point, making it slippery for your hands to tighten around and place the slightest pressure when tuuuuuugging-

Choso fights with everything left in him to not dig his claws into your pretty thighs and drape your thoroughly wet pussy across his mouth. He mewls, “N-no.” His kisses grow more fervent. “No, baby…”

Eyes just a bit teary from the sudden stimulation, you’re wondering just what it is that poor Choso’s huffing n’ puffing about. And that’s the instant you’re witnessing the dog hybrid lean up onto his haunches and jerk his toned hips against your legs. That reddened, throbbing erection of his crushing against your calves. 

It’s the only bit of friction he can get- and the only bit of friction that he needs to spurt his webbed seed all down your skin. Splatterin’ some against the wall and even down himself—he’s making such an utter mess as he cums just from eating you out.

That, too, with merely a few sultry licks.

Whimpering. 

Choso’s head throws back with an echoing sound, lips wobbly oh-so-cutely as he drenches your heated flesh with his gooey sap. It forms a layer of warmth that you don’t get too feel for too long-

Because the man himself is draggin’ his roughened fingertips down the dredges of it and stuffing every ounce he can gather between your legs. Straight into the sinking divot where your hole was, Choso makes sure to retract his fatal claws as he slides his lacquering layers down your pussylips. Painting gloss after gloss of creamy white.

Pheromones were just soaking into the air, making it so heavy.

And that ruddied tip of his tongue slips out and starts lavishin’ away at your messy slit. Just so fucking messy.

Despite his tail wagging away at the lewd sight, he can’t keep the regret out of his tone. “I c-can’t believe I’ve cum.” He utters out a breathy pant into your cunt. “I can’t believe it—”

“Awww- s’okay, Cho.” You swear you see his cock twitch at just the slightest mention of that nickname falling from your gorgeous lips. “It’s probably your first time, huh?”

“I-it is.” Your poor puppydog nods.

“Then it’s alright-”

“But I wanna be good for you, mistress.” And even more sinful than that title was the way he was looking up at you with the most agonized tearful eyes—“I-it’s all my body’s telling me to do…” As Choso’s huffin’ away, the edge of his lower lip jutted out into the cutest pout. His brown brows furrow as he focuses on chastely pecking your hole—and you’re hit with the understanding that he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. By now he’s rutting against your calves like a dog in heat - and it would be incorrect to say he wasn’t. “I wanna please you.”

“Is that soooo?” You’re crooning out- and he shivers. Reaching the edge of your foot out, you slide up the lined muscles of his left leg - ending up pressed between his thick thighs.

You step on Choso’s rock-hard erection with your foot and he all but cries-

Humming to yourself, “Then act like it.”

He gasps, “Wh-what?” And though he was in disbelief - his ears waste no time pricking up.

Your heel crushes his hot, dribblin’ erection- “Awwww, didn’t hear me, baby?” Harder. As he bucks his hips and lets out a sudden yelp, you’re pulling his handsome face up to yours—“Why’re you giving me kitty licks if you’re a dog hybrid, huh? Why don’t you eat me out…”

Hooking your non-dominant leg over his shoulder.

“-like a good boy then?”

And then you’re swervin’ his head just sliiiightly to the side—and helping him open up the puffy slit of your pussy and ease his tongue inside.

And all it takes is one push - just one push - of Choso’s flattened, ridged tastebuds- for you to clench around him. The most goopiest feeling.

Enough to make a hybrid addicted. 

“Oh…” He barely has enough space to breathe let alone speak- any and every breath he has left in his lungs is spent parched over your cunt. Choso slips his fat tongue past your first ring of muscle—and you best believe that his extra-specialized hybrid tongue was tasting every droplet of your slick up close and personal. Savoring you - his bleary eyes roll to the back of his head. He’s feeling the velvety squeeze of your walls as he dives in and out, in and out, in and out. 

In and oooooout- and thrusting ravenously all the way back in again. 

“Shiiiiit-”

His eyes widen at the effect that he - he - seems to be having on you. “D-does this feel good-”

“Shut up n’ eat, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was just so obedient.

Not having much experience but swabbin’ the friction of his tongue wherever he could- as fast as he could. Tail wagging as fast as he could. The crowned edge of his tastebuds dig against every orifice inside you, as fast as he could.

And you’re swearing that the way he’s fucking you with is tongue feels almost…animalistic in nature.

Choso’s grip fastened tight upon either side of your squirming hips- and the tips of his fingers twitch as though he was having trouble keeping his claws back. Rugged grunts leave him with every slip n’ slide. Chin plastering against the bottom of your pussy—his handsome features scrape-scrape-scraaaape every inch of you from the end of your cunt and all the way up to the tip. Where your clit was throbbing and needy for him.

He’s whining at the feeling of that pulsation against his face, looking down innocently at your sensitive nub. “D-do I touch you ther-”

“Fuck, yes- you touch me there.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Fuck. 

You’re directing your inexperienced hybrid. And perhaps it was the pheromones that were making your body looser than ever-

But you’re wielding that ruthless restraint you have on him and bucking straight against Choso’s open mouth. As his tongue slips into your hole at a constant pace, you’re making sure that that handsomely big nose of his isn’t going to waste either - just grinding down on the mostly-straight line of it. Your favorite part was that lil’ bump that he had around the middle, it’s where your clit felt its primal pangs the most satiated. 

As Choso eagerly pushes his face between your tremblin’ legs and laps and laps his thick tongue away. Textured tastebuds. Sizzling against where you were most sensitive.

And you might not be a hybrid with those keen sensibilities to know what every single pheromone puff meant- but what you’re feeling right now in his sweetened fragrance was nothing more than utterly content. Pure gluttony.

He was droolin’ down both sides of his mouth and only push-push-puuuushing his face even deeper. “Please-” And his swollen mouth lolls stupidly open- probing his tongue inside to the maximum, to the very hilt of his wet muscle, and even then he grinds his face deeper like he wanted even more. “P-permission to have even…ngh, more, mistress?”

“More?” Your eyes damn-near bulge out of your skull- Choso was already wolfing you down like a man starved. Fucking you with his tongue and gyratin’ his nose across your clit. 

Thirsty for every pearly droplet of slick you’re spraying out, his brows press upwards and he’s fixing you with the most convincing puppydog eyes you’ve ever seen. Hell, even his scruffy ears start to droop- “Please, mistress?”

Muttering underneath your breath, “I swear if you were any other…”

And how could you ever deny him that?

Oh, your hybrid was just so spoiled- but that was a problem for later. Right now, all you can think of doing is reaching down and hooking a finger in that pink collar of his—he keens as you’re using that to puuuuull him even further upwards, nose-deep between your legs, and sputters. 

Rolling your hips faster and faster - you were just so glad that you had the upperhand with his collar now. Because every time that Choso even pulled away to gasp out his unsteady breaths- you’re hauling him straight back.

“What’s the matter, baby?” You’re cooing down at him, letting his flushed face crush against your pussylips. Leavin’ such a lecherous smear of your pussy’s slick across his features, “Didn’t you say that you wanted more?”

“I did- I do.” He’s whining, hips starting to rut once more. Just so teary and guttural with all the stimulation - your pussy was just ruining him, and it really didn’t help that those rut pheromones left him in an even more dire state. Choso sloshes your slick ‘round with his tongue and sobs at the searing restraint you had on his collar, “Wanted more- ngh, wanted to taste your pussy more, ma’am.”

“Then—?” Just so mean now. You tug on his collar again and make him shiver as he’s whimpering, tearing up, bucking like an animal—so overstimulated on being used. “What else does my good boy want, huh?”

“I-I’m your good boy?” Those tear-filled eyes of his are just so pretty, and they’re blinking a few times before Choso even realizes that you’ve asked a question. He hastens to answer before your tugging grows even more insistent - though he really doesn’t mind the pain…“I just wanted permission to…”

“Yeeees?”

“J-just to…”

And you’re peering down at the poor hybrid: his powerful tail is still now, and his pheromones were slowly becoming more and more maddened. You’re seeing the way his long fingers tremble where he’s holding you—edging juuuuust the slightest bit closer to your core…

“Permission to finger me-” You smile down something sinful at him, “-granted.”

He gapes, “Th-thank you, ma’am.”

“It’s a hybrid-eat-pussy world, right?”

And those slender tops of his fingers have no trouble just sliiiiiding a few inches inside- filling you up enough that his digits fill up every single orifice. Every single nook and cranny. He’s thrashin’ around inside, letting the curved tops of his fingers prod and poke away—

“Can smell you getting e-even wetter when I reach for…ngh- here.” He’s muttering out in a slightly breathy tone- slightly crazed. And the sweeter your treacly cunt jets out pheromones, the closer he’s veering towards that one spot-

Choso babbles, “Can smell you the sweetest…around here.” Through his shaggy bangs, you see those brows of his furrow- “Can smell your pussy wantin’ me to go…”

And then he’s hitting it.

“-here, ma’am.” 

Unlike the sudden surges of pleasure that were almost knocking you to the floor, Choso was just looking up at you so innocently as he pumps his lengthy digits towards the very back of your pussy. Striking splat! where your g-spot throbbed—before he’s pushing inside and inside to scrape damn near your cervix.

Fingers so long that you think he could reach that spongy layer if you really wanted him to-

“D-deeper, Cho…” Your mouth waters at the delicious zaps of pleasure running through your veins. Your head throws back as they only seem to increase with every passing second, and you whine. “M’so close—deeper.”

“Close?” He breathes out, as if in disbelief.

And you best believe that Choso was running his poor fingers ragged doing exactly what you’re asking - he’s scrubbin’ up every ounce of space down your walls, he’s leaving your g-spot feeling raw at the constant whacks, he’s sure the skin of his knuckles was reddening at the impacts but—but he doesn’t even fucking think to slow down as Choso fucks n’ fucks your pussy stupid.

He could feel himself going stupid, mouth latched ‘round your pulsating clit and moaning. “Please cum.” Babbling, “P-please cum…need to make my mistress feel good-”

“Shit, and I really do feel good-”

“Need to be a good boy and give her pleasure-”

“Already doing so much, baby-”

“Need to make her cum—” Tears spilling down the sides of his handsome face, he looks up at you with pouted lips. Quivering, “Permission to make you c-cum, mistress?”

You tug on his collar - this time, high enough that you can bend down and press a chaste peck on his forehead. “Permission granted, Cho.”

And it’s just then that Choso’s reeling his fingers properly back - all the way till those rotund ends - and pushing straight into the deepest depths of your pussy. Directly into spots you perhaps weren’t even sure you had—perhaps your cervix. It certainly felt that way. 

Deep.

And suddenly you’re shattering all over the hybrid’s fingers n’ mouth - something that Choso realizes before even you yourself do. His nostrils flare at the sudden peak in your stewed cherry pheromones—like the trumpets denoting the opening of those pearly gates.

Suddenly your legs tremble open and you’re gushing your orgasm down his ready tongue. 

Jaw ajar, he lets you riiiiiiide your waves of bliss through and through his mouth. His handsome features. Your hands being a permanent fixture in his hair now, “P-please…” Blabbering away as the dopamine renders you more loose than ever, “Feels so good, Choso—”

Those ears of his perk up, “Yeah?”

“Feels so good- hck!” Sparking all over with pleasure. “Shit- it might just be the b-best orgasm of my damn life.”

And it really was.

You weren’t just saying this to soothe his rut - those sudden jolts and sparks, the way that he’d prolong them so much by massaging your bundles of nerves…it was the best you’ve ever felt. Choso just keeps swervin’ and swervin’ his knobbly fingertips against that pulsing target of your g-spot, in sloppy tandem with the slurps of his mouth suckling away on your clit. Again and again.

Draaaaaagging out your euphoria until it seemed like it couldn’t go on any longer- then pumping a fresh few waves of electricity into you with the sudden hits at your g-spot. Again and again.

“Mmmm, I’ve been a good boy then.” He murmurs deep into your cunt. And it’s only once most of the haze clouding your mind has cleared up - by the time that your orgasm has diminished into nothing but a few tender jolts - that you’re finally registering the way Choso’s hips were still humpin’ away against your body. 

The way that Choso crushed his large, sculptured frame to yours and rutted into you like a dog in heat- “Been- been such a good boy. Can this good boy get a…”

He bores his pleading eyes up at you.

Feverishly flushed.

“-treat then, ma’am?”

You’re riding out the last of your high on that very handsome face, and you gasp. “But of course, Cho.”

In practically no time, you’re finding yourself helping Choso Kamo stand up- yes, you were the one to help him stand up.

The powerful hybrid was just too pussydrunk on you to even stand straight—being readily moved in the direction of the bed. Pheromones heating up. Rut intensified. Choso’s clamoring onto the mattress on your command, letting himself fall backwards against the pillows and half-hide his face against their puffiness.

His dewy mahogany eyes peek at you as you shrug off your clothes and join him- stopping right between those long legs of his. “Wh-what are you going to do, mistress?”

“Give you a little payback, of course.” You’re winking. And without further ado—you’re pushing apart his slightly-jittery legs; almost miles long now that you were seeing them from this angle. He was flushed all the way up to his inner thighs, highlighting the spattering of freckles that he had upon that skin.

From here, you could see his rock-hard erection even better - sure, you’d been given a proper show earlier. But this?

This gave you the opportunity to admire eeeeeevery single detail up-close.

The sheer rose shade at the crown of his shaft, the way it graduated down to the prettiest pink on his hilt. No wonder he liked that collar so much, it looked so similar to the color of his…

The veins upon veins that made the most beautiful patterns down his cock - they curved and overlapped in a way that made your cunt throb. The way his dark curls spattered him all the way down to his swollen hilt—Choso was mostly well-groomed, though he didn’t seem to have had the sense of mind to trim these days. But you almost…liked it like that. 

The way he was not only blessed with incredible length, but incredible girth, too—perhaps even bigger now that he was in rut? But you’d always imagined that Choso would be the type to have a massive cock anyway, it’s always the silent ones who do…

The hybrid watches - looking as though he wanted to tear his eyes away from a vision so lewd but couldn’t - as your pretty face looms closer n’ closer to his throbbing erection. Fuck, he might just be longer than your damn face…seeing it compared like this…he can’t help but let his tail wag ferociously. 

“Now now, Cho.” Your stern voice breaks through, “Settle down now or I won’t be able to-”

“S-sorry!” He stops immediately.

And you grip the base of his red, thickened cock. “No interrupting me.” Hard.

“I understand…” Choso whines, body startin’ to arch off of the mattress - though he holds himself back for the most part given how he wasn’t sure how you’d react. Would you punish him? Would you like it?

Whatever his frenzied mind had been fearfully conjuring up, it’s all wiped blank by the feeling of you surging your head down and gulping up the first few inches of him. Happily.

First, Choso’s mouth drops. 

Then, the sensation of your wet tongue on his cock hits him.

Finally, he’s planting his feet at the edge of the bed and bucking- gripping onto your scalp with his hands. Bucking. And bucking. And bucking—he cries out, “Oh f-fuuuuuck, ngh—” Just a few tears of overstimulation leaving the sides of his eyes, “Fuck- ngh, this is what it feels like?”

Of course, you certainly couldn’t respond due to your mouth being full - but that doesn’t stop you from looking up at him through your lashes and winking.

The thickness of his cock fills up your entire mouth, pulsating in a way that was incredible. The creamy layers of pre that topped his bulbous tip tasted almost…sweet? Almost like salted caramel - and you didn’t know whether that was you or the pheromones talking. 

“Fuck-”

You’re just starting to give Choso a few gooooood, loooong bobs of your head—up and down. Up and down. Slobberin’ your entire mouth from the top of his mushroomy tip and about halfway down that incredible length.

But that’s around when the hand at your scalp grows almost searing.

And you’re looking up to find Choso shaking his head after only a mere few seconds of you giving him a blowjob- “P-please…any longer and m’gonna cum.” Which had just been too good for him.

You pull yourself off of his fared tip with a pwah! “Aaaaand?” Still kissing him down there.

“And I want to…ngh, save it.” He admits, eyes not meeting yours.

“Save it?” You’re cocking your head in confusion, “Save it for what, Choso?”

“Well…”

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am—” The dog hybrid looks up at you with a slightly pouty expression, “I wanted to save for when I f-fuck you…”

Your jaw drops.

There’s a slight silence in the room- though the sudden heated increase in pheromones does enough talking for the both of you. And you’re wasting no time before removing yourself completely from his cock—he ruts. 

Before pushing those hips of his right back down.

Before shuffling up the king-sized mattress to straddle either side of his thoroughly sculptured hips, feeling the curves and divots of his muscles there.

Before perkin’ your hips juuuuust behind you and catching Choso’s globular tip in your entrance- slamming your cunt down as far as you could take him.

You’re sucking in a harsh breath as the first heated inch of him enters your cunt—shit, he really did feel as good as you’d imagined. “Fuck.” 

The pointed top of his shaft probin’ inwards. 

Zig-zagging veins massaging up against your soft walls. 

The throbbing of his shaft creating a vicious drumbeat that you find your pounding heart synchronizing to- you’re throwing your head back and arching your hips to get more of him- and right now it seems like you were the one that was finding yourself utterly ruined on his body. 

Your hands find themselves slitherin’ right up his toned body—right past those ripples and curves of his muscles. Ultimately resting on top of both his pecs, “Fuck, Cho.”

“Mistress…” He pants out- lips meeting yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

With a low snarl, you’re absolutely melting into his embrace. It’s barely anything of a kiss and more like Choso was bearing his canines and glide-glide-gliiiiding them dangerously down the front of your cracked maw. Just the slight softness of his actual lips peaking through and gluing against yours ravenously, “Choso-”

“Mistress.” 

“Choso- you feel so good.” Before you know it, Choso rams his strong hips up - plunging his achingly hard cock - just the slightest few inches until he suddenly stops. But not because he’d bottomed-out. It’s as though he’d been completely and utterly ready to pound your silly cervix raw- but jerked himself to a stop out of nothing but pure will and the need to-

“G-get permission.” He mutters between trembling lips, words coming out as nothing but a few slurred syllables - each one melting into the last. 

And as you’re blinking away the haze in your eyes, attempting to make sense of him, you ask. “Get permission? You want permission to- ngh, fuck me, Choso? You know you already have it…‘

He shakes his head. “Not…that…” Sounding as if he was on the very verge of ruination just from the way he found himself stuffed inside you—not moving a single inch. But still ruined.

The pheromones in the room heighten, and Choso’s tail swishes agitatedly. 

“Then what is it?”

“It’s something far, far dirtier…” He admits, and despite his words there was the shyest blush upon his face. And you swear his cock starts to throb even harder at his utterance—going to the extent that it felt like Choso was damn near about to explode- “It’s where I- hngh, fuck, it’s not something that a hybrid like me deserved to even imagine about you, mistress.”

As though he couldn’t even stop himself - his hips were moving in the slightest ruts up and down now. Up and down. Up and down. Barely-there grinds that almost felt more lecherous than just fucking up into you.

His tail starts to wag once more as Choso starts rubbin’ his tip against the roof of your cunt. Forgoing those rational desires of his to not fuck you until he gained permission for…whatever it is that he was too afraid to admit. Those pinkish lips of his quiver as you’re starting to clench around him—“I-it’s nothing something I deserve…but fuck, how many times I’ve thought a-about it…”

“Then tell me.” You’re humming ruthlessly down at him. His eyes slightly widen at the commanding tone of your voice - surely, you must know that he could never deny you when you speak to him like that? “That’s an order from your master, baby—”

He shivers. “A-an order?”

“Tell me what it is that you’ve been thinking about for so long.”

Choso’s slick-wettened cock slips in just a few inches deeper, and he whimpers something inaudible.

“What was that?” You’re leaning down to hear him better.

His lips moving mere millimeters away from your own, “I-I’ve always thought about- ngh, almost ever since the first time I saw you- fuck, it was like th-this animal desire in me…” Big, bulbous tears collecting at the edge of his right eye, Choso finally jerks his hips up—“Permission to breed you, mistress?”

Oh—

That ‘yes, baby’ is keening out of you faster than you can register it leaving your hips.

And that’s all it takes for Choso to succeed in bottoming-out, that’s all it takes for Choso to dig his strawberry divot against the edge of your cervix, that’s all it takes for Choso to fully n’ properly start to fuck up into you like an absolute madman. 

Arching his back against the mattress.

Higher with his hips, lower with his shoulders: he runs his pumping tip across every inch of the roof of your cunt—even deeper, and then stirs his fattened length around in search of that pretty g-spot he’d been troublin’ so much not too long ago. Pump after pump.

Probe after heavy prooooobe of his geysering orifice- you’re feeling your toes curl at the sensation of being so full with him. Warm and heavy inside you. “Permission granted-” You gasp out.

And though he’d already heard your affirmative answer from earlier, it makes Choso swell up just a liiiiittle thicker at his circumference. Snaggin’ against the sides of your elastic walls, he’s filling you up  like nothing before, just so plump n’ puckering up at every nook…especially around the area of his base that seemed to be growing at an even faster rate than the rest of him…

But you have no time - nor ability - to count away at the feverish throbs and stretches of Choso’s cock right now. Right now, he’s runnin’ his tip against the side of your g-spot until that pretty inner lining of your walls bulge with his sheer size—

“Permission- oh.” You’re throwing your head back in sheer pleasure, seeing white burst behind your eyes. “P-permission…” Sounding as though a broken record-player, “And for how long have you wanted this permission, baby?”

“Too long.” Choso cries out. Hands trembling upon either side of your hips, “Been wanting this pretty pussy for w-waaaay too long- as far as I can remember…was just impossible when I was smelling her sweetness all the damn time.”

Your heart races, “And how long have you been wanting to breed me-”

“Always.”

And after a few more probes n’ a sudden clench—from your sopping wet walls, Choso whimpers and tucks his head into the crook of your neck - where you’d assumed that humans had their scent glands. 

His heavy balls thwack! the globes of your ass cheeks when he drills his cock inwards, “I’ve n-never had a rut before…” He admits, “It just never felt like the right time. But this- fuck, primal part of me always wondered just how pretty you’d look all round and glowing a-and…pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” You breathe.

“Pregnant with my pups.” Choso babbles out. Those doe-like eyes of his kept on rolling to the back of his head every time he’s feeling himself being clenched juuuuust a little tighter than usual. Dark brows furrowing. Hands tightening. “Wondered just how much your- hah, pretty tits would grow even more.” Mouth lathering over your right tit, he suckles—as though expecting milk to come pouring out already. “Wondered just how sweet your milk would be, mmmm…”

“And what else?” You huff. But the hybrid’s just so dazed on your pussy and his rut and your pussy that it takes a firm tug on his collar before he’s back to his senses.

 “Huh- oh—” Choso blinks his teary-clung eyes back open, peering around the thickly-scented room as though he’d just forgotten where he was already. “Wondered just how many people would stare at you as we w-walked down the street, me on your leash…”

“And why’s that?”

“Because just how many of them would think that it’s me—” Out-of-breath. Voice a couple octaves higher than usual - utterly gone. You didn’t have to feel the steadily-increasing sloppiness of his cock to know that Choso was losing himself - thwack! thwack! thwack! “Just how many of them would think that it’s your poor, shy puppyboy that fucked you all pregnant, mistress?”

“Shiiiiit—” Your legs were starting to tremble - and whether because of fatigue or something else entirely, you’re unsure. But Choso immediately snakes his fingers down just a little lower to cup either side of your ass, and he’s using his immense strength to support you as you start bouncing back down onto his merciless thrusts. “Keep going-”

His eyes grow wide, “P-permission to-”

“Keep going, Choso.”

And who was he to go against his mistress’s wishes? Especially when such wishes was something that he’d been wanting to do since the day he fucking met you—fuck, perhaps even sooner. It was always in that carnal part of him that he’d been trying to ignore ever since the first time he smelled your beautiful, addictive scent outside his bed at the clinic. Those curtains were useless - he already knew that you’d be the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes upon. 

Like cherries, syrup, and sex.

And right now he was fucking into the most beatiful thing of all- your thighs press against that No. 1 tattoo on his v-line, and you’re keening.

Arching your back so that the roooough curvature of his cock could stir up your insides even more than he already was- and that was saying quite a lot already. That ridged pattern of his veins were bumpin’ up against the sides of your channel, your nerves, and making you clench around him even tighter—leaving the hybrid more and more honest with every single thrust. “I’m s-such a dirty hybrid…so perverted.” He admits, “I’d even wonder about trying to fuh-fuck you pregnant all over again every single day—”

“H-how do you mean?” You’re panting out.

“I’d wonder how many times it’d take to plant my seed inside- to fuck you so full that it finally- hngh, takes.” Eyes only partly-cracked open, “And then I’d wonder that it’d be best to fuck you every- single- day-”

“Yes-” You’re mewling out, your nails digging into the plushness of his pecs.

“I’d make sure my hybrid cum’s dripping down your legs every second of the day-”

“Yes.”

“I’d make sure when we’re walking—ngh, going on our walks, that every single hybrid in a five-mile distance is going to smell me on you…” Choso leans in as though sharing one of his deepest, darkest secrets, “-and in you.”

“Yes—”

“And thennnnn—” It’s here that an almost sleazy smirk graces his pretty lips, “I’d wonder about fucking you even after you were pregnant.”

Your jaw drops, and your hands fly to his collar.

“I’d wonder about fucking you u-until your womb remembered me and…” So caught up in his sinful words that you hadn’t even registered that the thickened base of his shaft was only growing thicker…and thicker, and even thicker—to the extent that now it was a round circumference nearly twice or thrice what it had normally been, and you hadn’t even seemed to notice the slamming slaps against the forefront of your cunt. Faster. Harder. His right hand dips down between your jittery legs to start teasin’ your clit with fresh tugs and rolls, “—we don’t stop until we have nine kids.”

Nine kids.

Nine kids?!

Choso Kamo had been so-ravenously dreaming about pumping you full of nine of his kids; creating a small army of hybrid half-breeds that would likely look just like him but with your open warmth and that beautiful smile of his. And why was it that you could imagine it so clearly? 

“Nine kids…” Eleven repeating it a few times doesn’t do much to let the words fully sink in - who would have thought that the nervous, innocent Choso Kamo would be such a lewd character inside? Who would have thought that he’d be nodding along to your repetition.

Gingerly letting his eyes slip to the side of his pillows, “B-but I know that’s just a far-off- ngh, dream, mistress.” Much more of the usual Choso that you know, though he’s still fucking up into you as though it ached him very second that he wasn’t stuffing you all the way to the brim inside - Choso’s rounded, reddened tip plasters against the back of your pussy and you’re yowling. “That’s why I stole those panties, that’s why had to- ngh, satiate myself with just my hand…”

And that makes you slightly more alert- “My panties? Where are my panties, by the way?”

He shyly shrugs.

To which you’re narrowing your eyes in suspicion, “Choso…”

And the larger hybrid almost flinches- “Th-they’re under my pillows.”

Without a mere moment of hesitation, you’re diving your hand underneath one of those puffy pillows you’d picked out just for him during that first shopping trip you’d undertaken with him…and you find all those panties you’d lost. Half your drawer, to be precise. 

Choso whimpers as you’re pulling a few strappy pieces of lace and gauze out—some of the sluttiest of your collection, and your fingers had scraped the rest of it that still remained down under. Honestly, how many had he collected without you realizing at first? How many had he fucking used—?

Those scraps of fabric were sticky and slightly cloying to each of your senses- and so what else could you think of doing? What better option for punishment was there to do but gather them up into a tight ball in your hand and push them between Choso’s pinkish, puffy lips- gagging him with your panties. Your panties that he’d used to jerk off.

A taste of his own medicine - or at least it was supposed to be. You just didn’t expect for Choso’s tail to start wagging even harder than ever. 

Pervert puppyboy.

“So you wanted to breed me, huh?”

“N-not wanted…” He corrects you, hips surging up uncontrollably into your wetness. “Want.”

“So you want to breed me, huh? So you want to make all those dreams a reality?” Purring, and the man beneath you can only nod with his massive tear-filled eyes - just so pretty when he cried, hm? To stimulate him even further, you’re exerting your hips to outmatch his pace, rammin’ his bulbous cock into every crevice and geysering orifice that you’re able to realize exists—“Then you know that you still haven’t gotten my- ngh, permission for that, Choso, baby.”

Choso sputters out an exhale, “P-please, ma’am?” Muffled through your own panties. Rubbin’ his roughened thumb against your clit even further to sweeten the deal—“Do I have the permission to-”

“Yes-” And whatever hopeful moan was about to leave him, you’re cutting him off. “But only on one condition.”

“Please- what is it…?” He hisses, “Please-”

“But be warned, it’s a bit of a tough one-”

“I’ll do anything.”

And this was exactly where you wanted him. Exactly. You’re smiling down at the beautiful, utterly ruined boy beneath you—and pulling him in with a finger hooked underneath his pink collar - one that proudly had your name upon his pendant - to whisper into his flustered ears. “Then…bark like you want it.”

Choso’s eyes widen just a fraction. His cock trembles dangerously deep inside of you, and his nostrils flare as he exhales a large breath. Right before- 

“R-ruff…” Before he’s muffling out the sweetest, most sultry fucking barks through the panties you’d gagged into his mouth- all because you’d asked. At the smell of your treacly cunt only growing even more aroused, Choso continues—“Ruff- arf—”

Your grin grows, “Ohoho? Louder.”

“Ruff-”

“Louder.”

“Ruff—woof.” He was just embarrassing himself, and it only made him even harder. Cock blushin’ almost as much as his cheeks were by this point- “Arf- arf, pleeeeese, ma’am.”

“Hmmm?”

Those dilated pupils of his cross, and Choso’s spitting out the gag of those gauzy - soiled with his own cum - fabrics to plead through trembling lips. 

“P-please let me breed you, mistress.”

And what else more could you say but—“Of course, Cho.”

And in the next few sloppy thrusts, you’re feeling Choso empty out rope after loooooong heaving rope of cum inside you. It’s sheer volumes that you never even thought possible, sheer wads that were webbin’ up your tight insides and taking over every single ounce of space inside you - each with those creamy, glued-up wads of his seed. 

Warm and wet.

Wild.

They’re splashin’ around inside of you and lacquering a thiiiiick few layers upon the channel of your cunt—over and over and over again. Choso doesn’t even need to try to make sure that every single spot is covered, because the sheer volume makes it impossible for a generous heap of his sap to puddle at your cervix, gettin’ hit by a torrential wave of his cockhead striking. Pumping deep inside. 

Choso’s twitchy balls press up against your ass, just the slightest bit of your pussylips, and you’re shivering as you feel the orgasm that runs through him.

Collar dangling.

“Fuck…” Choso seethes through clenched canines, one of his hands coming up to press down upon your core. That cute front of yours where if he pressed juuuuuuust right- he could feel the vibrations of his shaft emptying out at your sponge-covered womb, “Fuck, m’gonna get at least one kid tonight , ma’am.”

Soon enough, you’re crashing into your own high, too.

And it zaps through your body faster than the last one - clearly having been so overstimulated that this one overtakes you more quickly, this one makes you see stars behind your eyelids, this one makes you shiver n’ shake on top of him.

Being properly fucked through your rapidfire waves of dopamine as he leans you even closer into his arms. As he nuzzles the side of your neck. As he hums out sounds of satisfaction at every euphoric peak he’s probin’ his massive cockhead into.

As Choso leans down and bites the side of your scent glands—you’re feeling something pop! 

And you’re experiencing a sudden rush of warmth like another orgasm- like a hundred thousand other orgasms. It all courses through your overstimulated body one by one, at the same time, increasing in both length and intensity—it’s breaking you down to your very core—until you don’t even realize that you’re gasping out Choso’s name like a prayer. 

And he’s worshipping yours in much the same fashion. 

Basically ruining it with his lewd tone as he manages to slip that girthy knot of his inside - grinding n’ grinding the plumpness of his base until he’s fit-fit-fiiiiiiiiiitting in. Your cunt stretches like elastic around him, and it’s unbelievable to you that you’re able to fit so much of him inside like this. 

You can feel him hot and throbbing deep inside you.

Preventing you from leaking even a single wad of his dewy white cum you’re milking. 

“My mate…” Choso rasps out. You’re collapsed on top of him by now, and he runs one open palm down the curvature of your spine—then aaaaaall the way back up again to check on that freshly-made bonding mark on you - all bloodied and already healing through the special properties of a hybrid mate’s saliva - and then even further up to trace that collar of his. Lock broken. Your name always against his beating chest. Having you mewling at the sensation of his knot-

Currently, however, it was also your head against his beating chest. 

You’re gripping onto his muscular body even further- and it almost makes you chuckle to feel that way just that makes Choso’s cock twitch inside of you. “No…” You state simply, “My mate.‘

“Anything you say, ma’am.”

.

.

.

Thereafter, it hadn’t been too long before Choso had roped you into a second round. Then a third. Then a fourth—where he’d been whimpering and shooting blanks, drool dripping down either side of his mouth as his cock slid into you in a thorough mating press.

And then a fifth. A sixth.

A seventh- honestly, after the seventh you’d stopped counting. 

You didn’t trust Choso to keep count, either - honestly, you don’t think you would’ve trusted Choso to remember his own name. 

Not this night or any of the hot summer nights that came after. 

By the time the heat’s simmered down, and your lungs don’t feel clogged with the cloying sweetness of mingled pheromones, and you’re finally able to crack open your eyelids in this sultry sauna of a bedroom—you can barely move. 

Body heavy.

Limbs aching.

Even the tiniest of twitches sending soreness shooting through your vessels.

You’re finding yourself tucked to Choso’s side underneath the covers- hand thrown around his muscular side, your chin hooked into the curvature of his spine. Who’d have thought that the big, bad hybrid would’ve been a small spoon? 

That collar of yours was still ‘round his neck and showed no signs of being taken off soon. And you’re remembering just then that through most of his rut, the two of you had gotten up to scarf down food and clean yourselves when necessary. Though towards the feverish end of it, honestly you couldn’t remember anything other than wanting him to mark you with a bonding bite over and over and over again- so why were you notably wiped down and smelling of your favorite body wash?

Did Choso…wash you down even through his rut? 

You knew the pheromones always hit the strongest towards the beginning and the end of one’s rut, did he really push through all that n’ tenderly tuck you in?

You’re feeling such a rush of affection for your puppyboy, and, sleepily, you press a line of kisses down the column of his throat- marked as well. In the heat of the moment, you’d somehow managed to puncture Choso’s scent glands with your own human canines. 

He was yours, and you were his. 

Choso hums groggily and snuggles even further backwards against you. Frankly, you think you could cuddle up against him and spend another day here—another week, another month.

Perhaps even the rest of your life.

But if only that incessant bzz-bzzing would stop.

With a pained groan, you’re managing to sit up and blink your eyes somewhere behind you - where the noise seemed to be pulsing from. Choso whines in disappointment and attempts to pull you back down with his warm hands- and oh, how it hurt you to deny those puppydog eyes. 

“I’ll be cuddling you soon, spoiled baby.” You tut down at him. Finally locating the source of the noise, you’re reaching your sore hand out and grabbing onto your glaring phone.

Its screen assaults you with light immediately.

And then with a phone call.

Dr. Ieri Shoko.

Wincing, you’re answering the call. “Hello?”

“Woof- you sound rough.” Her cool tone wavers just the slightest in amusement, “Rough week?”

“Rough day.” You’re joking, “Rough rut.”

And there’s a slight pause on the other end of the line, “Right, but…you do realize it’s been a week, right?” 

“What?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

Almost immediately, you’re ripping your ear away from the phone and checking the date- fuck, Shoko hadn’t been messing with you. It really was a week since that last time you’d called her—you spent an entire week together in bed with him? And you hadn’t even realized?

Jaw dropping as so many things hit you at once, “My job-”

“Has already been notified.” And she sounded to be the exact opposite of you, collected and pausing for what you assumed to be sips of her morning coffee. “After our last call, I signed you up for the Hybrid Rut Registry- I do this for everyone that shelters, but didn’t consider it for Choso. It lets your workplace and loved ones know if and when your hybrid is in rut—and for your relationship I entered it as you’d be needed for the duration of the rut.”

Your heart races at her (very correct) assumption.

“You’re welcome.” She hums, “Also double-check on that to make sure that everything’s in order there- and also congratulations-”

Your bitten mark throbbed.

“-I expect to see you both at the clinic for a check-up today.” From your side, Choso wraps his muscular arms around you with a whine for you to come back. “But that’s not actually what I was calling you about- I was actually checking on your availability.”

“My availability?”

“Yes, for the program.” She replies simply.

“The program? Th-the companionship program?” You breathe, “Wait- I can help another hybrid?”

And she merely hums in satisfaction, “Mhm, I’ve got another hybrid that needs your help.” And whatever Choso’s honed senses let him hear or feel—he’s sitting up on the bed and pressing his face to the crook of your neck. “Another dog hybrid- a year older than Choso, slightly smaller, golden retriever variety, same intelligent and mild demeanor.” 

“Yes?” You breathe. Heart pounding already. 

“His name is Ino Takuma.”

A/N. WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOG, SIS, WALK ‘EM LIKE A DOOOOOOOOOG-

Plagiarism not authorized.