warnings: innocent!reader x various, stepbro!steve rogers, frat!bucky barnes, ari levinson, marc spector, ransom drysdale, curtis everett, lloyd hansen, andy barber, thor odinson, scott lang, miguel o'hara, frank castle, billy russo, professor!reed richards, professor!logan howlett, professor!peter parker, dark content (dubcon/noncon and other dark elements), essentially everyone is soft!dark, college au, polyamory, idk what to tell you this is just really nasty porn
polls for the au
asks about the au
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thots and blabber about the au
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FICS:
the many firsts
something in return
locked out
i dare you
what i say goes
too big
the basement
a long-awaited lesson
you’ll like it eventually
toying with her
the last one to know
the hotel room
training
mister president
happy halloween, stepsis
REQUESTS:
gaming + intox kink (headcanons)
billy & frank catch you discovering billy’s toy collection (headcanons)
desperate to help (headcanons)
curtis helps you fall asleep (headcanons)
just the tip with professor reed richards, alternative ending to "a long-awaited lesson" (headcanons)
a gift for professor richards (headcanons)
somno with all of the boys (headcanons)
catching y/n watching porn (headcanons)
you better answer it (blurb)
johnny walking in on you cockwarming reed (headcanons)
everyone's favourite kinks + position + location + way to make y/n orgasm + roleplay scenario + nicknames for y/n + place to cum + punishments + partner for a threesome + aftercare + nicknames for the guys + dacryphilia + ass or tits + random audience + turn ons + porn + toy in the basement (headcanons)
Virgin bkg who’s so painfully stupid but acts so arrogant. And when it’s getting heated and you’re making out and want to see his dick… he gets all shy and embarrassed because he doesn’t know if it looks normal or as good as the other ones you’ve seen. When you ask what’s wrong he tells you it’s curved and you think it’s like BENT then he lets you see and it’s the prettiest most orgasm inducing upward curve you’ve ever seen on a dick.
bakugou katsuki knows why he is a virgin. it’s pretty simple really despite the fact he is surrounded by beautiful women often. socialites, the new buzzing influencers, actors and pro heroes like.
it’s because he’s obsessed with his job. always has been. since he was a child who was dreaming of becoming a hero, to his teenage years fighting wars to now in his twenties, working towards becoming number one.
women and mostly importantly, getting his dick wet, has never been number one on his list of priorities. sure when he’d go to film premiers for that hero franchise he loves, occasionally a gorgeous woman would talk to him.
but the thing about growing up uninterested in sex and the only women around him being his friends that share the same heroic goals… well bakugou has never been very good at flirting. which again, was mostly okay since he would just walk away when a woman was about to talk to him.
until he met you that is. the first woman to make him dream of more, that made him unable to get through a shower without tugging one out to the thought of you. that during patrols, he’d think about texting you. what are you up to? where are you? when the hell can he kiss you next?
anyone is experienced compared to bakugou. he’s kissed a girl once in his third year of ua. he’s made out with two in his early twenties.
but now at twenty six this is first time having a woman in his apartment, on his bed, on his lap. he feels like a rabid animal. unsure where to put his hands with the desperate need to touch everywhere so he leaves them on the globes of your ass, squeezing every few seconds when all the feelings inside of him gets intense.
he knows he’s flushed red. he knows his dick is hard and you can feel it through your leggings. but you’re so perfect, leading the moment, letting him react however the hell he wants.
bakugou releases a loud moan when you stick your tongue down his throat, breasts pressed against his chest like you want to live in his skin. he’s never felt a woman like this before, he feels as if the word virgin is in capital letters printed onto his forehead.
he hasn’t told you directly he is but he thinks you know.
“you’re so… fuck. this is so fucked up,” he breathes into your mouth and your fingers rake up into the hair on his nape.
your grin makes his heart skip a beat, falter slightly and he swears he gets winded.
you’re out of breath, chest heaving and your pussy is a centimetre away from sitting on his cock.
“why’s it fucked up? you okay?” you brush your nose against his softly, smoothing out his eyebrow with your thumb. “you look hot, do you want to take your top off?”
you’re being so sweet to him and he appreciates it, he does. but as soon as he knows what he’s doing he’s gonna treat you right. properly.
for now, he’s just worried he doesn’t have what it takes.
“oh, err, fuck. sorry, yeah i will,” he mumbles to you, yanking off his white tee from the neckline.
bakugou enjoys how your eyes glow, scanning his half naked body like it’s something you can eat. your hands immediately flatten against his chest. down his toned abdomen. up to his fat squishy pectorals. he’s never had someone touch him like this. he couldn’t be harder.
“you don’t have to apologise, you know. this is new for us both.”
“you’re not the fuckin’ virgin here.” he bites, “i’ve never even had a woman in my room.”
he can tell you like that idea. you inch closer to him on his lap, your hands are back on his shoulders. you brush your lips over his.
“i don’t know how. look at you.”
and you’re back to making out with him. slower this time. tasting all the flavour from his tongue.
you softly bite down on his bottom lip and like a ring of the doorbell, bakugou opens up to let you in. it’s wet peck after wet peck, tilting your head to taste more of him. he’s eager, too eager ducking closer to you, as to not waste any time with your lips off his. you can only think that if he kisses with this much passion, you’re dying to know how he’d fuck.
bakugou tightly grips your ass and without meaning to, he shoves you directly onto his cock.
you mewl like a cat, hips grinding down onto him like you can’t help it. “you feel so good, ‘tsuki.”
you feel good because of him. him.
your tongue sneaks into his mouth, twirls and brushes against his. he learns quickly, you’ll give him that. his tongue dances against yours, licking up everything you offer. you feel his body vibrate, his dick twitch. you begin sucking on his tongue and that’s when he releases a harsh grunt. you’re soaked.
“let me see it.” you palm his cock through his shorts, “let me see.”
bakugou opens his eyes, pulls away from your mouth for a moment.
“i… fuck.” he’s back to mumbling. then stupidly, he looks down at the lump in his fabric.
“you… you don’t have to?” you offer, unsure about his wide eyes, “we can keep kissing?”
“it’s just that… it’s just….,” bakugou looks up to the ceiling.
he’d love for you to touch him, do anything to him but nobodies seen his dick before. sure he’s seen some porn videos but he’s never seen a dick like his in them. he’s googled and nothing said there’s anything particularly wrong about his.
but what if you find it weird, what if it puts you off him completely?
“talk to me, baby,” you push, laying a kiss on his jaw. then making a line down his neck. “wanna make you feel good.”
he’d like that.
“listen. seriously.”
you pull off him at that, sitting up on his lap, your hands at his waist. he is stupidly gorgeous. puffy pink lips because of you. his long straight eyelashes. his beautiful cheekbones and that eyebrow slit.
“i’m listening. tell me anything.” you soften your tone, trying to get the horny out your eyes. your tits are basically spilling out your vest top and you don’t miss bakugou’s pupils darting to and from them every few seconds.
“i think…. i…”
you don’t speak.
katsuki takes a deep breath. he almost shouts without meaning to. “nobody has seen my dick before but me. right?”
you nod with a frown, unsure where this is going. “okay. nothing’s wrong with that.”
bakugou winces. he isn’t built for this. he’s always been attractive physically. his body works better than the average. can run at speed, stealthy, built for hero work. his quirk is best of the best and is only getting stronger by the day. but using his body for sex? that’s something he has no clue about.
“it might not be normal lookin’? like it works fine, i’ve never had any problems with it? but it might be odd for you.”
you’re immediately imagining the worst. it’s not small. you felt it a second ago between your legs. heck, you’ve seen it when he walks around in those stupid grey joggers. oddly coloured, oddly shaped? is it too big?
“what’s wrong?” you tilt your head.
his whole face is flushed. a beautiful pink to the apples of his cheeks. you would kiss them if he wasn’t so serious right now.
he closes his eyes, leans his head back on his headboard. his hands stay on your thighs. you tap his chest.
“c’mon tell me.”
he exhales sharply.
“my dick is fuckin’ curved. to the left. i don’t know why.” he blurts, embarrassment written all over him, “it’s always been like that.”
for him to be this stressed about it, it must be abnormal. is it like a hook? you’ve seen one like that on one of those medical reality shows. would it be able to go inside if you? you so badly want him inside of you.
you shrug. you can’t imagine anything about this man being less than perfect. “it can’t be that bad, baby.”
you rub his chest soothingly but his face doesn’t soothe you one bit.
“i’m fuckin’ sorry. i brought you here and we’re goin’ so well and—,”
“let me see. let me see your dick, c’mon,” you smile softly.
you sink your hand to touch his crotch again.
“you sure? i don’t want you to be put off me like i’m a freak—,”
“katsuki. come on.”
it’s in slow motion. your mouth immediately start salivating, his hands grip the elastic waistband of his shorts. he pulls it down in one go with his underwear.
“oh katsuki. baby…. honey.”
this man has nothing to worry about. bakugou katsuki has on him a cock that can rival your favourite dildos. it curves to the left, a smooth pleasing curve that you already know will hit your softest spots. you swallow your spit, your hands inching up his thighs. it’s darker at the base, twitching under your attention with two round balls (one a little larger than the other) at the bottom.
he is hefty. heavy. thick like a tree trunk with veins darting up the sides. you imagine the weight of it in your mouth. the deep pinkish purplish head on your tongue. most of all, you imagine it curved inside, pushing a sweet orgasm out of you.
of course, this big idiot didn’t know what he had on him. part of you wants to lie, never let him know how good he has it so he doesn’t go around sharing his goods. but you need to, it’s written all over your face.
“you must be joking, katsuki,” you hum, delighted. you run your finger down his shaft.
his hips jolt, eyes lazing slightly from your attention. he’s so hard it’s getting painful.
“what? what? spit it out.”
“you need to fuck me. doesn’t have to be now but someday. you have to.” you whine, “you don’t get it at all.”
“what? it’s not a problem? this okay with you?” he stutters, unable to keep a steady head as you sink down the bed to rest your chest on his legs. now you’ve got your face right in front of his dick, as if you’re measuring the curve by degrees.
you want to lick him.
“you’ve got a pornstar dick. a dick they base dildos off,” you breathe. the look in your eye is wild, untamed. “you’d feel amazing. even if you don’t know how to use it. you need let me bounce on it.”
bakugou blinks down at you. he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing, fuck, he doesn’t know what to do about you. not one bit did he think you’d even have this reaction.
“w-what… i know how to use my own dick.” is all he can manage but you shake your head.
you flick your eyes up to him, “we’re gonna learn together, okay? can i… can i…” you flatten your tongue against his shaft and give him one lick up.
bakugou’s sure he’s about to come any second now.
“y-yes but be fuckin’ careful. i don’t wanna nut on your face.”
You smelled them the second you stepped inside. two thick, sweet-musk scents tangled together in the air. Satoru’s bright and almost sugary, Sugurus deeper, warmer, like rain on warm wood. It hit you low in the gut and made your cock twitch in your pants before you even saw them.
Satoru was on the couch, shirt hiked above his stomach, one hand loosely around his leaking cock like he’d been trying not to touch too much. His white ears were flat, tail lashing hard against the cushions. The second he saw you he made this broken little sound and tried to get up, but his legs wobbled.
Suguru was in the kitchen doorway, robe hanging open, long black hair messy. His ears were low, cheeks flushed dark, and there was a visible trail of slick running down the inside of one thigh. He looked like he’d been trying to hold it together with sheer will. The second your eyes met, his tail curled tight around his own leg and he exhaled shakily.
“Both of you?” you said, voice low. “At the same time?”
Satoru whined and nodded fast. “It’s bad. Really bad. I tried waiting but Suguru came out of his room and he smelled so good and then I got worse and—” He cut himself off with a soft moan when his own hand twitched on his cock.
Suguru swallowed. “I… didn’t want to bother you. But it’s not stopping. The ache. I can’t think.” His voice was quiet, rough at the edges. “If you’re tired we can—”
“I’m not tired,” you cut in gently, stepping closer. “Come here. Both of you.”
They moved at the same time. Satoru basically launched himself into your chest, tail immediately wrapping around your thigh, face buried in your neck while he rubbed his leaking cock against your hip. Suguru came slower, more hesitant, but when you reached out and cupped the back of his neck he leaned into it like he’d been waiting for permission. His purr was low and shaky.
You walked them toward the bedroom, one arm around each. “Tell me what you need,” you said. “Use your words.”
Satoru answered first, voice muffled against your throat. “Your cock. Please. I need it inside, I need to be full, it hurts so much—”
Suguru’s ears flicked. He didn’t speak right away, but when you glanced at him he met your eyes and whispered, “I need you too. I tried touching myself but it’s not enough. I keep thinking about how you feel.”
You got them on the big bed, side by side on their backs. You took your time stripping them the rest of the way—slow pulls of fabric, hands sliding over their warm skin. Satoru squirmed and whined the whole time, tail trying to drag your hand between his legs. Suguru stayed quieter but his breathing got heavier every time your fingers brushed the base of his tail or the soft skin behind his ears.
You started with your hands. Two fingers in Satoru first because he was already dripping down his thighs and begging. He arched hard, a high sound ripping out of him, ears flattening all the way back.
“Fuck—yes, yes, right there—” His tail thrashed, then wrapped around Suguru’s wrist like he needed something to hold onto. You crooked your fingers and he sobbed, cock jumping against his stomach.
You looked at Suguru while you fingered Satoru. “You okay?”
Suguru’s eyes were glassy. He nodded once, then shook his head. “I—I need it too. Please.”
You pulled your fingers out of Satoru (who whined in protest) and slid them into Suguru instead. He was just as wet, maybe more, and the second you pushed in he let out this long, shaky exhale and his whole body relaxed.
“There you go,” you murmured. “Breathe for me.”
You worked them both open like that. alternating, sometimes two fingers in each at the same time, watching the way their tails curled around each other for comfort. Satoru kept up a running commentary of needy little noises and half-begged sentences. Suguru was quieter but every time you hit the right spot inside him his ears would twitch hard and he’d let out this soft, broken purr that vibrated through the bed.
When they were both loose and dripping and begging, you finally pushed your pants down. Your cock was hard and leaking, and both of them stared like they were starving.
Satoru reached for it first. “Me first? Please? I’ll be good after, I swear, just—let me feel it first—”
You lined up with Suguru instead, slow and deliberate. “You can wait a minute,” you told Satoru, voice calm but firm. “Let me take care of him. Then you get your turn.”
Suguru’s eyes fluttered when you pushed in. He was so hot and wet around you it took effort not to just slam in. You went slow, watching his face, one hand stroking his tail base the way you knew he liked. He made this soft, relieved sound when you bottomed out.
“God—yes. Just like that. Don’t pull out yet, please…”
You rocked into him in long, deep strokes while Satoru watched, whining and touching himself, tail lashing. Every few thrusts you reached over and wrapped your hand around Satoru’s cock or slid two fingers back into him to keep him open and desperate.
“Look at you both,” you said, voice a little rough. “So fucking needy. Dripping all over the sheets. You feel so good, Suguru. So tight around me.”
Suguru moaned softly, one hand reaching out blindly until Satoru caught it and laced their fingers together. The sight of them holding onto each other while you fucked Suguru made heat curl low in your stomach.
You didn’t let Suguru come yet. You pulled out when he was close, ignoring his soft protest, and turned to Satoru.
“Your turn.”
Satoru practically threw himself onto his hands and knees, tail high and quivering, presenting so fast it would’ve been funny if he wasn’t shaking. You pushed into him in one smooth thrust and he screamed—high and broken and so loud Suguru actually laughed breathlessly beside him.
You fucked him harder than you had Suguru, one hand reaching over to stroke his cock. Satoru babbled the whole time, ears flat, pushing back into every thrust like he couldn’t get enough. Suguru watched, one hand slowly stroking his own cock, eyes dark and hungry.
When Satoru got too close you slowed down, pulled almost all the way out, and said, “Not yet.”
He whined but obeyed, trembling. You turned your head to Suguru. “Come here.”
Suguru moved without hesitation. You had him position in front of Satoru while you stayed buried in him. Then you reached and guided Suguru’s cock to Satoru’s mouth. Satoru took it greedily, moaning around it.
You started moving again—slow, deep thrusts into Satoru while he sucked Suguru. The sounds were filthy. You kept talking, low and steady.
“That’s it. Both of you. So good for me. Suguru, you can fuck his mouth a little if you want. He can take it.”
and suguru did.
careful at first, then deeper when Satoru moaned encouragement around him. You fucked Satoru through it until his whole body was shaking, then pulled out and switched to Suguru instead, repositioning him on his back. Suguru’s head fell forward with a broken moan.
You went back and forth like that for a while—fucking one while the other got attention with your hands or mouth or just watching. Every time one of them got too close you backed off, made them breathe, made them wait. The begging got louder. Satoru stopped making sense. Suguru started saying your name like a prayer every time you pushed back into him.
When you finally let them cum it was almost at the same time. You had Suguru on his back, legs wrapped around you, fucking him deep and steady while Satoru knelt beside you and jerked himself off, tail wrapped around your thigh. Suguru came first, whole body locking up, a long shaky purr ripping out of him as he clenched around your cock. You followed right after, buried deep, filling him while he held onto you and shook.
Satoru came two seconds later with a loud, broken cry, painting Suguru’s stomach and his own hand.
You stayed inside Suguru for a long minute, catching your breath, one hand petting Satoru’s ears, the other stroking Suguru’s flank. Both of them were purring now. Satoru loud and ragged, Suguru low and content.
You pulled out slow. Suguru made a soft unhappy noise at the loss. You kissed his forehead, then Satoru’s.
“Stay right there,” you murmured. “I’ll clean you both up.”
Satoru, already half-asleep and clingy, mumbled, “Don’t go far…”
Suguru just reached out and caught your wrist, eyes soft. “Thank you.”
You cleaned them gently with a warm cloth, then got water and made them drink. When you finally lay down between them they both curled in immediately—Satoru half on top of you, Suguru tucked against your side, tails draped over your legs like they were making sure you couldn’t leave.
The heat would come back later. But for now they were full and warm and purring against you, and the only sounds in the room were soft breathing and the occasional sleepy, satisfied little mewl.
You closed your eyes, one hand in white hair, the other resting on a warm striped tail, and let yourself rest.
Toji Fushiguro
Toji was on the bed, back against the headboard, one arm thrown over his eyes like he could block out the heat if he just ignored it hard enough. His tail was curled tight under him, tip twitching every few seconds. He was naked already—had probably stripped the second his heat hit. his cock was flushed dark and leaking steadily onto his stomach. Slick had soaked the sheets beneath him. every breath came out rough.
The second the door clicked he growled without moving his arm. “Out.”
You didn’t leave. You just leaned against the doorframe for a second, watching him. “Wow. Look at you.”
Toji’s arm dropped. His eyes were glassy, cheeks flushed dark under the scar. “I said—”
“Trying to tough it out all by yourself again?” you cut in, voice soft but teasing. You pushed off the door and crossed the room slow. “Such a big, tough guy… until the heat hits and you’re leaking all over your own sheets.”
He bared his teeth, but it didn’t have much bite. His tail uncurled a little when you sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t fuckin’ baby me.”
“Too late.” You reached out and scratched behind one of his ears. Toji’s whole body jerked, then he leaned into it before he could stop himself. A low, reluctant rumble started in his chest. “Aww, there it is. You’re burning up, huh? Poor thing.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, but his eyes were already half-lidded and his tail had started curling around your wrist.
You kept petting his ear with one hand while the other slid down his chest, over the hard lines of muscle, down to where his cock was twitching against his stomach. You didn’t touch it yet—just let your fingers trail through the mess of precum and slick on his skin.
“Bet you were touching yourself before I got here,” you said, casually, like you were talking about the weather. “Trying to make it go away. Did it help?”
Toji’s ears flicked back. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” You finally wrapped your hand around his cock, slow and loose. He hissed and his hips jerked up. “Look how wet you are already. All this slick and you’re still trying to pretend you don’t need help.”
“I don’t—” His voice cracked when you gave him one slow stroke. “Fuck—don’t tease.”
“But you’re cute when you’re all worked up and stubborn.” You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Lie back for me.”
He grumbled the whole time but let you push him down flat on the bed. You settled between his spread thighs, running your hands up and down them, thumbs pressing into the tense muscle.
You took your time opening him up.
Two fingers first, sliding in easy with how wet he was. Toji’s head tipped back against the pillows and he let out this rough, bitten-off sound. You crooked them just right and watched his stomach jump.
“There we go,” you murmured, voice warm and a little teasing. “Feels better when you stop fighting it, doesn’t it?”
“ shut up,” he growled, but it came out breathless and his hips were already rocking down onto your fingers.
You added a third, slow and careful, and he moaned—low and rough, trying to swallow it. You stroked his cock with your other hand at the same time, just slow enough to keep him on edge.
“Look at you,” you said softly. “All that growling and now you’re pushing back on my fingers like you can’t get enough. Such a good boy when you let me take care of you.”
Toji’s ears flattened harder. “I’m not—fuck—a good boy—”
“Sure you are.” You leaned down and licked a slow stripe up his cock, then took the head into your mouth for a second, sucking lightly. He made a choked sound. You pulled off with a wet pop and smiled up at him. “See? Taking it so well for me.”
You worked him open until he was loose and dripping, four fingers easy, his hole fluttering every time you pulled back. Only then did you slick your cock and line up.
Toji’s eyes were dark and hazy when they met yours. He didn’t look away.
You pushed in slow, watching every flicker across his face. The stretch made his mouth drop open on a silent moan, ears twitching wildly. When you bottomed out he let out this long, shaky breath.
“Fuck… yeah,” he rasped. “Just like that.”
You stayed still for a second, one hand stroking his hip, the other petting slow behind his ear again. “There it is. All full now. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
He nodded once, jerky. You started moving—long, deep strokes that made his whole body rock with every thrust. Toji met you halfway at first, pushing back, but the teasing and the soft coaxing seemed to have changed something in him. After a minute his growls turned into rough, needy moans and his hands came up to grip your shoulders like he needed something to hold onto.
You kept talking, voice low and warm between thrusts.
“Look at you taking it so well. So desperate for me.” You reached down and stroked his cock in time with your hips. “You can growl and curse all you want, but your body’s honest. Dripping everywhere. Clenching around me like you never want me to pull out.”
Toji’s head tipped back, a broken sound ripping out of him. “Shut—ah—shut up—”
You didn’t. You leaned down, chest to chest, and kissed the corner of his mouth again while you fucked him a little harder. “It’s okay to need it. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere until you’re full and satisfied.”
His ears flicked at the word “ full,” You kept the pace steady and deep, hitting that spot inside him on every thrust, stroking his cock, petting his ears, murmuring soft teasing things against his skin.
When he got close you slowed down just enough to drag it out.
“Not yet,” you said gently when he whined. “Let me enjoy you a little longer. You’re so pretty like this—all flushed and shaking and trying so hard not to beg.”
Toji cursed you out, but it was weak and his hips kept trying to chase your hand. You gave him what he needed eventually—fucked him harder, stroked him faster, whispered “That’s it, cum for me, good boy” right against his ear.
He came with a deep, guttural groan, cock pulsing between you, hole clenching tight around your cock. You fucked him through it, then pushed in deep and came too, filling him while he shook and panted and finally let that low, rumbling purr out.
You stayed inside him after, both of you catching your breath. Toji’s arms were still around your shoulders. You stroked slow fingers through his hair and behind his ears, soft and soothing now.
“There you are,” you murmured. “ Knew you had it in you.”
Toji made a gruff, embarrassed sound but didn’t shove you off. If anything he pulled you closer, face tucked against your neck.
“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, voice hoarse.
You smiled and kissed his temple. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Ryomen Sukuna
His door was closed, but you could hear him pacing. Heavy steps. The occasional sharp thump of his tail hitting the wall. Low, frustrated growls left him.
You knocked once. “Sukuna.”
“Go away.”
“You’re in heat.”
“I’m aware.” Another thump. “I don’t need your help. I can handle it.”
You opened the door anyway.
He was a wreck. Pink hair wild, markings standing out stark against flushed skin, ears pinned flat, tail lashing so hard it kept knocking things off his desk. His cock was hard and angry-red, leaking down his thigh, and there was slick running in shiny trails down both legs. The sheets on his bed were already in shreds from his claws.
His eyes snapped to you. (all four of them) narrowed. “I told you—”
“You’re hurting,” you said, calm, stepping inside and closing the door. “And I’m not leaving you like this.”
He bared his teeth, sharp fangs flashing, but he didn’t move when you crossed the room. Didn’t move when you reached out and touched his jaw. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, then jerked back like he’d been burned.
“Brat,” he snarled. “Touch me I’ll kill you.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” you said. You backed him toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. You knew it was a loose threat. He sat down hard, legs spreading without meaning to. More slick dripped onto the floor.
You got on your knees between his thighs and ran your hands up them. He watched you with narrowed eyes, chest heaving. When you wrapped your fingers around his cock he hissed and his hips jerked up.
“Don’t—shit—”
You stroked him slow, thumb swiping over the head, while your other hand slid between his legs and pressed two fingers against his hole. He was soaked. The second you pushed in he made this choked sound and his head fell back, ears flat, claws digging into the ruined sheets.
“You can growl all you want,” you said, voice low, “but your body’s telling me exactly what it needs.”
He didn’t answer with words. Just pushed down onto your fingers with a snarl that turned into a moan halfway through. he clawed the bed and cursed and tried to pretend he wasn’t shaking.
When you finally pulled your fingers out and lined your cock up he was panting, eyes glassy, tail wrapped tight around your waist without him seeming to notice.
“Do it,” he ordered, voice cracking. “Fill me. Now. And don’t you dare be gentle.”
You pushed in slow anyway. He took it. his hole clenched around you—but the second you bottomed out he let out this long, shaky breath and his whole body went limp for a second.
“Fuck… yes.”
You fucked him hard, just like he asked. Deep, rough strokes that made the bed creak and his claws tear new holes in the sheets. He met every thrust, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, growling and moaning and cursing your name like it was an insult and a prayer at the same time.
“Bite if you need to,” you told him when his teeth started worrying at his own lip. “I can take it.”
He did—latched onto your shoulder and bit down hard when you changed the angle and started hitting that spot inside him over and over. The pain mixed with the heat in your gut and made you fuck him even harder. He came like that—sudden, violent, cock pulsing untouched between you, hole clenching so tight it dragged you right over the edge with him. You buried yourself deep and filled him while he shook and growled and bit down harder on your shoulder.
After, you stayed inside him. One hand stroking slow through his hair, the other resting on his hip. He didn’t shove you off. Just kept you there, still buried in him, tail heavy and warm around your waist, one clawed hand resting on the back of your neck.
“…Stay,” he muttered against your throat, so quiet you almost missed it. “Until it comes back. Then we’re doing that again. And you’re not pulling out until I say so.”
You smiled and kissed the bite mark you’d left on his skin. “Whatever you need.”
He didn’t answer. But his tail tightened around you, and he slowly relaxed against you.
𝜗𝜚 bullying Choso until he cums- but you’re only following the instructions on his shirt!
more like this
ೃ࿔*:･
You’d seen the shirt online, your screen far too bright for how late it was, coloured pixels burning into your pupils as you scrolled in the darkness waiting for your boyfriend to get home. You were only really looking through the clothes website as something to fill the time, minutes dragging on like molasses. Thumbing in boredom past the designs with obscure city names and sports teams you've never heard of, you saw it.
You’d snorted in laughter, thumb hovering over the picture the website provided as you clicked to enhance the size of the image. At first, it was funny on its own- the stupidity of the big, unapologetically blocky font, the even stupider saying emblazoned across the chest.
Don’t bully me, I’ll cum!
But then, your mind drifts to your sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend. Choso is probably on his way home now, you think- and although he’d never admit it out loud (he would if you asked nicely enough) he did enjoy you being mean to him just a little more than the average person probably should.
Okay, maybe more than a little; the moment you’re on top of him and your palm lands open across his cheek in a slap he’s been begging for, he’s liable to cum immediately. A whine always rips from his throat when you degrade him, watching the way he likes going stupid under your slick hand as you wrap it around his cock and whisper how dumb he looks.
Choso doesn’t really advertise this side of him, preferring to stay quiet about it, but to anybody watching it’s painfully obvious. The way he stares at you when you speak, the way he flushes furiously when you ‘accidentally’ trip and sink your nails into his bare arm for balance.
Yeah, he likes when you bully him.
You smirk, clicking on the size range, and the shirt is ordered within minutes.
“Hey, baby.” Choso announces when he walks through the door, immediately wrapping his arms around you, “what’re you doing? I missed you.”
You lazily scratch his nape with your nails, letting him rest his bodyweight on you in its heavy entirety. “Just... some shopping. I think you'll like it.”
He perks up. “Show me when it arrives?”
You both know what he’s insinuating, a blush already tinting his face; whenever you buy new clothes, ranging from lacy lingerie straight out of his fantasies to simple jeans, Choso adores watching you try them on for him. He sits there patiently at the end of the bed, like a well trained puppy, and waits for you to come out of the bathroom and twirl around.
More often than not, it results in him whimpering between your thighs- not that either of you are complaining about that particular part of your impromptu fashion shows.
Choso's imagining it already, you can tell. If you aren't telling him outright, it must be something good- not to say he doesn't think you look good in everything (or nothing, he loves that even more) but the way you're smirking down at him makes drool water up in his mouth. Maybe it'll be lingerie you already own in a different colour, he muses, or perhaps it'll be a different style.
You smile, a slight tint of evil mixed into the mirth that Choso’s pretty eyes don’t quite pick up on. “Yeah, of course I'll show you, baby.”
He hums happily and buries his face into your skin again.
The shirt arrives three days later (express shipping does wonders, apparently) and you almost squeal with excitement as you cut the parcel open on the kitchen table, scissors in hand. “Choso! My package arrived-!”
He practically teleports around the corner, eager to see what it is you’ve been hiding from him for the last few days. You can’t conceal the grin on your face as you unfold the black fabric, holding back a giggle as you see his brow scrunch in confusion- surely that’s too much fabric for your size, right? Or maybe you just wanted a new sleep shirt, but why would you when he gives you all of his-?
“For you!”
Choso’s eyes land on the text as you hold the shirt up to his eyeline. “For me…?”
Oh. Ohhh.
He goes pink almost immediately as he reads the words printed onto the fabric. “I am not wearing that.”
“But it’s trueee, Cho!” You whine, “you know it’s true.”
“It isn’t.” He says adamantly, sulking at the shirt like it personally offended him. “I won’t cum if you bully me.” Although, his eyes are already darting away from the words as though he isn't ready to think about it too deeply yet.
You raise a brow, dropping the fabric onto the counter. “Is that a challenge?”
He swallows thickly, “n-no, I’m just saying-“
“Wear the shirt, Choso.”
“I don’t want-“
“Wear. It.”
Something about the tone of your voice, the way your eyes narrow darkly as you glare at him, makes something in Choso instantly obey as he reaches out for the shirt. He doesn’t break his annoyed eye contact as he yanks his own clothing over his head, and you try not to let your eyes drift too far down to the wisps of hair dipping below his belt and the muscle of his abdomen.
When it’s on, fabric new and slightly scratchy against his skin, you smile. “Good boy.”
Choso’s cock twitches in his jeans, but he’s determined this time- he will not let you condescend him into an orgasm, no way.
But he will if you have anything to do with it.
“You’re such a fucking slut, Cho.” You pant above him, thighs firmly planted either side of his lean hips. What better way to test his resolve than to bully him until he cums? You’re just making sure the shoe- or, in this case, the shirt- fits!
He moans wantonly, big eyes swimming with tears as he gazes up at you while you bounce on his cock. “B-baby-“
You don’t hesitate, gripping his jaw with one clammy hand and glaring down at him. meanly. “Shut up.”
He gasps, hips bucking as the whites of his eyes make their debut. He’s still wearing the shirt- you insisted on it- and the fabric is heated below your fingers. It’s almost hilarious, on some strange and perverted plane of humour you like to operate on when it comes to your boyfriend.
Choso is trapped below you, around you, inside you as you use him to prove your point. He’d like to say he isn’t struggling to keep his side of the argument alive, but his mind is quickly getting fuzzier as his cock twitches inside your cunt.
“You’re just sooo pathetic for me, aren’t you?” You breathe out, grasping his face into position. You can feel the physical shake that trembles through his body, his hips lurching up to meet the swift glides of your pussy along his sticky length.
Choso groans, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. “I-“
Slap!
He inhales sharply, cock splurging out a few more rivulets of pre when your palm lands on his cheek. You roll your hips harder, “I didn’t tell you that you were allowed to speak, Cho.”
He gives in, nodding dazedly into your touch as you thumb over the stinging mark your hand left behind.
“Look at yourself.” You spit out at him- literally, a thin string dripping glassily down to his mouth. Choso’s lips are already parted, heaving in gasping little breaths between whines, so it isn’t hard for him to readily take the saliva messily smearing across his lips and lick it up like a dog.
You’d feel terrible for bullying your boyfriend if he didn’t look so pretty as you did so. One cheek redder than the other from your slap, hair completely messy against the pillows, eyes totally glossed over and filling with tears as you bully him to an orgasm.
“Cho…” you coo, voice sickeningly sweet, deliberately slowing your movements to hear the way he groans in protest, “do you wanna cum?”
He nods slowly, movements sluggish. You notice the way he isn’t speaking- clearly, your slap did its job and he’s waiting for permission. “You can speak.”
“Please-“ he begs almost immediately, hands encircling your thighs, hips, waist- any skin he can get to, “please, just let me cum, need it so bad-“
You pretend to ponder on this longer than necessary, until the wait dips over into cruelness and Choso is left throbbing and whimpering against the lack of friction. “I’ll let you cum, if-“
“Anything.” He breathes, trembling as you start to pick up the pace again, “please, anything, just let me-“
“You can’t cum until after I do.”
Choso freezes, expression akin to that of a deer in headlights. You know his favourite thing is cumming at the same time as you, how could you be so cruel? “But-“
“You heard me. Wait.”
And he does, because he has no choice; he has to wait and torture himself with the feeling of your warm body pressed up against his, your heat bleeding into the shirt until Choso feels dizzy.
When you feel your orgasm creep up on you, building slowly, you press your mouth against his for the first time since you started and Choso moans into the kiss like he’s been starved.
“M’so close, Cho-“ you keen against his lips, nipping at the skin only to soothe it with your tongue. The feeling of your cunt pulsing so perfectly around his cock makes Choso cry, a few stray tears slipping saltily down his face.
“Please-“ he heaves, “c’mon, let me cum-“
You relent, nodding once, and the effect is instantaneous. His spine arches up off of the mattress, cock jumping inside you as he spills over in milky strands that streak the skin of your thighs and his pelvis, smearing shinily.
Choso trembles through the aftershock, the shirt clinging stupidly to his chest when you roll off him. You giggle as the text comes into focus again along with the rest of your blurred vision. “I told you the shirt was right.”
He groans exhaustedly, throwing an arm across his still-teary eyes. “Stop.”
“You like me bullying you.” You giggle, voice singsongy in a way that should be irritating but really just makes Choso’s heart melt. “I told youuuu.”
Two arms wrap around you without warning, cramming your face against the shirt. He sighs defeatedly, pressing his mouth to your forehead in a gentle kiss to get you to stop squirming out of his grip and lie still. “You’re mean.”
There’s a few moments of silence, and Choso briefly thinks you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, but then-
“If I’m nice to you, will you cum too?”
ೃ࿔*:･
masterlist
a/n: okay so funny story I actually DID see a shirt with this on a while ago and thought about Choso, so maybe this is a manifestation
You’d been asking him for twenty minutes, shamelessly relentless, until Toji finally let out a heavy sigh and shifted over you. Even then, he refused to give you his full weight. He braced his knees on the mattress on either side of your head, his thick, scarred thighs framing your vision as he hovered just inches above your mouth.
"You're annoying, you know that?" he grumbled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration in the dark room.
You didn't answer, just tilted your chin up and caught him. The moment your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, the tension in Toji's heavy frame snapped. He didn't stay hovering for long. As you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes, his hips started to drop. He began grinding down against your mouth, a slow, desperate roll of his hips that forced you deeper against his center.
His breathing roughened, turning into sharp, jagged hitches. He gripped the headboard, his knuckles turning white as he chased the friction. You added two fingers, sliding them inside and hooking upward. Toji's breath hitched violently. He was practically riding your face now, his heavy muscles twitching with every frantic thrust of his hips as he ground down onto your tongue.
Then, without warning, his entire body stiffened up.
Toji let out a sharp, breathless gasp. His back arched, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth and cheeks. It wasn't just a leak; he was actively squirting, his internal muscles pulsing frantically around your fingers as the sheer volume of it coated your lower face.
The room went dead silent, save for the sound of his ragged breathing.
Toji froze completely. The strength gave out in his arms, and he dropped down, his knees taking his weight as he stared blindly at the wall. He looked down at you, his usually sharp green eyes blown wide in absolute, stunned disbelief. He was completely speechless, a dark flush rapidly climbing up his thick neck and spreading across his scarred chest. He just stared at the wet mess on your face, his mouth slightly parted, trying to process what his body had just done.
You pulled your fingers out slowly and swiped the back of your hand across your chin, catching the slick fluid. You looked up at his shocked, flushed face and smirked.
"Damn, Toji," you said, your voice low and cocky. "Didn't know I could work you out like that."
His jaw snapped shut. For a long, heavy second, he just stared at the wet mess covering your lower face. The deep red flush burned all the way to the tips of his ears.
"Shut up," he finally grated out, his voice a full octave lower than usual, completely raw. He dragged a heavy hand down his face, deliberately breaking eye contact. "Don't act like you did something special. I just... it's been a long week."
You didn't wipe the smirk off your face, letting your eyes drop meaningfully to where his thighs were still trembling against the mattress.
"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped, though the harshness of his tone was completely ruined by the way his breath caught at the end of the sentence. He shifted his weight, suddenly hyper-aware of his own body and the undeniable evidence he'd left all over you. He reached down, his large, calloused thumb aggressively wiping at your chin and cheek, trying to scrub away the proof. "Wipe your damn face. You look stupid grinning like that."
You chuckled, catching his wrist and leaning up to kiss the inside of his palm. He flinched, but he didn't pull his hand away.
"I'm serious," he warned, his chest still heaving as he finally forced himself to look back down at you. His green eyes were dark, defensive, but blown wide with lingering heat. "You utter a word of this to anyone, and I'm putting you through a wall. You just caught me off guard. Don't let it go to your head."
He let out a rough, shaky breath, trying to summon his usual intimidating aura, but he was still straddling you, completely laid bare and visibly shaken.
"Now are you gonna get up," he muttered, his voice dropping into a needy, impatient growl as his hips twitched involuntarily against you, "or are you just gonna lay there looking smug all night? Because I still have an ache you need to take care of."
You didn't argue. You just reached up, gripping the back of his thick neck, and pulled him down. He didn't resist, collapsing his heavy frame over yours. He caught your lips in a quick, rough kiss, tasting the salt and slick of himself on your mouth without a single complaint.
He broke the kiss just as fast, turning his head to bury his flushed face deep into the crook of your neck. He let out a long, heavy exhale, his massive chest expanding against yours as he snuggled closer, his solid weight pinning you to the mattress. He was still trembling slightly, his arms wrapping around your shoulders in a tight, grounding hold.
"Just shut up and touch me," he mumbled into your skin, the last of his fight completely drained out of him.
satoru .g
The sheets were a tangled wreck underneath you both. You were twisted up in a breathless 69, Satoru’s ridiculously long legs straddling your shoulders while his face hovered right over your hips. He had your cock in his hand, his lips parted to finally take you in, but the second your tongue swiped firmly against his slick heat, his jaw just slacked.
He was far too distracted by what you were doing to his pussy to actually focus on sucking your dick. He tried, ducking his head down, but as you dragged your tongue right over his most sensitive spot, he let out a sharp gasp and lost his grip entirely. He ended up just panting hot air against your thighs, his long fingers abandoning their task to twist deeply into your hair instead.
"Hold on, let me—ah!" Satoru gasped, a breathless, exhilarated laugh bubbling out of him as he failed to focus for the third time. "You’re doing that on purpose. You’re not even letting me start."
You didn't let up. You gripped his thighs, holding him steady as you worked your tongue in broad, demanding strokes. Satoru was incredibly vocal, his hips rolling eagerly and shamelessly against your mouth as he completely surrendered to the sensation. The room was filled with the wet, heavy sounds of the friction and his ragged breathing.
He arched his lower back, pushing himself deeper against your face. You took the invitation, sliding two fingers deep inside him and hooking upward to hit that internal sweet spot, keeping a relentless, punishing pace with your tongue.
Satoru’s breath hitched violently. He completely abandoned the idea of the 69, his head dropping back against the mattress as he practically rode your face. His long frame arched completely off the bed, his thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks as the overstimulation built up higher and faster than he was ready for.
"Yeah, right there," he stuttered out, his voice pitching higher. "Don't stop, don't—fuck!"
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through his long frame as the last of his control completely broke.
Satoru let out a loud, sharp cry, his fingers pulling taut against your scalp. His hips buckled hard, and a sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your mouth, chin, and cheeks. He was shaking, his internal muscles clenching in frantic, wet waves around your fingers, completely coating your lower face.
He collapsed down onto your legs, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. For a split second, there was total silence in the room, except for the sound of the bed creaking.
Then, Satoru shot up. He pushed himself onto his hands, craning his neck to look down at your face. His bright blue eyes were blown incredibly wide, but there wasn't a single hint of embarrassment in them. Instead, a massive, thrilled grin broke out across his flushed face.
"Holy shit!" he laughed out loud, completely breathless and amazed. "Did I just do that?!"
You pulled your fingers out slowly, swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his wide, excited eyes and smirked, your tone perfectly cocky and satisfied.
"Damn, Satoru," you teased, your voice low. "Didn't know I could make you flood like that. Look at the mess you made."
"Are you kidding?! That was incredible!" he beamed, completely unashamed of the sheer volume of slick covering your face.
He shifted his long frame immediately, abandoning the 69 entirely to slide his legs down and fully straddle your waist. He leaned down over you, practically vibrating with lingering adrenaline, and didn't even hesitate before pressing a wet, messy kiss right to your lips. He tasted himself on you without a second thought, his tongue swiping lazily at the corner of your mouth.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his flush deepening but his grin turning distinctly teasing. He reached out, tapping a finger right on your slick chin.
"You look really good wearing me, by the way," he hummed, his tone playfully arrogant. He let out a happy, exhausted sigh and dropped his weight, snuggling his face right into the crook of your neck. His heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your chest, and his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders.
"You're an absolute genius," he murmured happily against your collarbone, his hips still twitching involuntarily against you. "But now I have to clean up my mess. So lay back, because it's my turn to focus... and I'm going to take my sweet time draining you completely dry."
choso. k
You had him pulled right to the edge of the mattress, his back flat against the sheets while you knelt on the floor between his legs. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, and Choso was visibly hesitant. His hands were gripping tightly at the bedsheets, his knuckles turning stark white, and every time you leaned in even an inch, his thighs would reflexively try to snap shut against your sides.
"Wait," he breathed, his voice tight and nervous. A dark, heavy blush was already dusting his pale cheeks, spreading down his neck and over his collarbones. "It's... I'm already too sensitive right now. Maybe we should just—"
You didn't let him finish. You reached out, gently but firmly catching his wrists, prying his fingers away from the bunched-up fabric of the sheets and pinning his hands flat to the mattress by his sides. Then, you slid your arms under his knees, hooking his pale legs securely over your shoulders. It opened him up completely to your view, leaving him entirely exposed.
Choso let out a shaky, embarrassed whine, turning his head sharply to the side so he wouldn't have to look at you. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling in shallow, nervous hitches.
"Just relax for me," you murmured, leaning in close enough that your breath fanned over his slick skin.
The moment your tongue traced a long, slow, deliberate path right over his center, Choso let out a startled, high-pitched gasp. His entire body jolted like he’d been struck by lightning. He was so incredibly pent-up and sensitive that even the lightest, teasing pressure felt like a massive shock to his system. He tried to squirm backward, instinctively trying to pull away from the overwhelming sensation, but your grip on his hips kept him anchored right at the edge of the bed.
"It's too much," he whimpered, tears immediately welling in his dark eyes and spilling over the bridge of his nose. "Please, I can't... I can't take it, it's too much..."
He was pleading, shaking his head against the pillows, but his body was completely betraying him. Even as he cried out for you to stop, his hips were instinctively bucking upward, his breathing turning into wet, ragged gasps as he chased the very friction he claimed was too intense.
You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, curling them upward to hit a steady, rhythmic pace while your tongue worked him over without a single ounce of mercy.
Choso became a complete wreck. He was sobbing openly now, sweet, musical sounds of pure sensory overload leaving his lips. His head thrashed against the pillows, his dark hair a tangled, sweat-dampened mess. His stomach muscles jumped and twitched with every stroke of your tongue, the overstimulation rapidly pushing him past the point of rational thought.
"Please!" he sobbed out, his voice cracking as his toes curled so tight they cramped. "Ah! I'm—I'm gonna—!"
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him as he finally shattered.
Choso let out a loud, ruined wail, his back arching off the mattress so hard he practically lifted himself into the air. A sudden, heavy rush of hot fluid sprayed directly across your face.
The heavy, intense rush of it left him completely drained. His body went limp, collapsing back onto the mattress with a heavy thud. His chest rose and fell in sharp, desperate gasps as the last of the tremors worked their way through his thighs.
All Choso could do was lay there and pant.
Then, Choso slowly opened his tear-filled eyes, peering down at you through his damp lashes, his chest still heaving. When he finally focused on your face—when he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your cheeks—his breath hitched violently in his throat.
He froze completely. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his pale features, his lips parting in silent horror. The red flush on his face that seemed to consume him entirely.
You pulled your fingers out with a soft, wet pop, slowly swiping the back of your hand across your slick chin. You looked up at his horrified, flustered face, letting a slow, incredibly self-satisfied smirk cross your lips.
"And here you were begging me to wait," you teased, your voice low and perfectly cocky in the quiet room. "Look at the absolute mess you just made of my face. You must have really been dying for this."
A pathetic, utterly mortified squeak left his throat.
"I—I'm so sorry!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic, shame, and overwhelming embarrassment. He immediately scrambled upward, his shaking hands reaching out to frantically cup your jaw, his thumbs trying to wipe at your slick-covered cheeks. "I didn't mean to—I don't know what happened! I'm so sorry, you're covered in it, I ruined everything, I—"
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy apologies. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting him up instantly.
Choso melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his blind panic instantly replaced by a heavy, adoration-filled heat that he couldn't hide.
Before he could find his voice to start apologizing all over again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the pillows to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, tear-stained face deep into the crook of your shoulder, absolutely desperate to hide from your cocky gaze.
"You're terrible," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs still trembling where they bracketed your waist. "Please don't look at me right now... just hold me for a second."
mahito
You had him hoisted up onto the edge of the heavy wooden desk, standing squarely between his legs. Mahito was leaning back on his hands, swinging his bare heels against the back of your thighs and giggling that manic, grating laugh of his. He was treating the whole thing like a game, his mismatched eyes bright with chaotic amusement as he looked down at you.
"Is this supposed to be intimidating?" he teased, a wide, stitched grin stretching across his face. He tilted his head, completely unbothered. "C'mon, you look so serious! Are you really going to just stare, or are you actually going to—ah!"
His mocking laughter was completely cut off the second you stepped in close and dragged your teeth lightly up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. You didn't give him what he wanted right away. Instead, you took your time, deliberately teasing him. You mapped out the patchwork lines of his skin with slow, agonizingly light laps of your tongue, completely ignoring his slick center while hovering just inches away from it.
Mahito shifted on the hard wood of the desk, his grin faltering. "Hey. Stop messing around. That tickles."
You smirked against his skin and traced a slow circle just outside his heat, blowing a warm breath over him. Mahito’s breath hitched, a sudden, involuntary shiver running down his spine. His hands gripped the edge of the desk tighter.
"I said stop playing," he grumbled, his voice losing its playful edge, dipping into something much more impatient and needy. "Just do it already!"
"Impatient, aren't we?" you hummed.
Then, you finally gave it to him. You gripped his thighs, your fingers digging firmly into his pale skin to hold him in place, and buried your face against him. The second your tongue swiped firmly and relentlessly against his core, the change in him was instantaneous.
The playful arrogance melted entirely off his face, replaced by a look of wide-eyed, frantic overstimulation. He jerked backward, his spine snapping straight, but you didn't let him retreat. You worked your tongue in sharp, demanding strokes, refusing to let up the pressure. He wasn't used to being overwhelmed, usually twisting and reshaping himself out of any corner, but his body was completely betraying him.
"Wait, wait—stop!" he gasped out, his fingers tangling desperately into your hair. He tried to squirm away, letting out a series of high, breathless whines, but his hips were instinctively bucking forward against your mouth. "I can't—it feels too—!"
You answered his frantic movements by sliding two fingers deep inside his soaking heat, hooking upward to hit that deep, internal pulse.
Mahito’s entire body went completely rigid. His breath caught violently in his throat, his jaw dropping open in a silent scream as the sheer intensity of the overstimulation shattered his chaotic facade. His heels dug sharply into your lower back, his pale thighs trembling uncontrollably against your cheeks.
Then, the tension finally snapped.
A violent, full-body shudder ripped through him. Mahito let out a loud, high-pitched cry, his back arching off the desk as a sudden, splash of warm fluid sprayed onto you.
The heavy rush left him entirely drained. He collapsed forward, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, his forehead coming to rest heavily against the top of your head.
Mahito slowly pushed himself up, blinking rapidly as his dazed eyes finally focused on your face. When he saw the sheer volume of slick dripping from your chin and painting your shirt, his breath caught in his throat.
He froze completely. The manic, unhinged curse was rendered completely speechless. A look of pure, unadulterated shock washed over his patchwork features, his mouth falling open. A dark, violent flush erupted across his pale cheeks, burning right through the stitches on his face and spreading all the way down his neck.
You looked up at his horrified, flustered expression, letting a slow, incredibly cocky smirk cross your lips as you wiped his essence off you. You didn't wipe all of it away, letting him stare at exactly what he’d done.
"Well," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "That’s certainly one way to finally shut you up."
A pathetic, mortified squeak left his throat.
"You talk all that big game," you continued, stepping into the space between his thighs and crowding him against the edge of the desk. "But you completely flood the second I put a little effort in. Didn't know you had it in you to make such a massive mess of me. Look at you. You made a puddle."
"I—what?!" he stammered, his voice trembling with sheer panic and overwhelming embarrassment. He looked entirely stripped of his usual bravado, his shaking hands hovering in the air as if he didn't know what to do with them. "I didn't—I don't even know what just happened! You—you cheated! You did something weird to me, you must have used a cursed technique, I—!"
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists to stop his frantic, messy excuses. You leaned forward, tilting his chin up, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips, tasting the salt and slick of him, shutting his rambling up instantly.
Mahito melted into the kiss the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating in the back of his throat. All the fight left his body. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his panic instantly replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.
Before he could find his voice to start arguing again, he just gave up. He slumped forward with a heavy sigh, sliding right off the edge of the desk to wrap his arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his chaotic energy entirely snuffed out.
"You're so mean to me," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs wrapping securely around your waist to hold himself up against you. "Shut up... don't look at me right now... just carry me to the bed."
suguru. g
You had been begging him for weeks. Every time you backed him against a wall, cornered him in the kitchen, or tried to pull him down onto the bed, Suguru would just offer that perfectly serene, frustratingly composed smile of his. He’d brush a hand through your hair, gently kiss your forehead, and murmur, "Soon. I just want it to be the right time and place. We shouldn't rush these things."
He was incredibly private, highly protective of his own vulnerability, and utterly obsessed with maintaining total control over himself and his environment. He hated the idea of feeling exposed or caught off guard.
But tonight, his elegant little excuses had finally run out.
He was seated deep in the plush, dark velvet armchair in the corner of his dimly lit bedroom, his long, dark hair tied back loosely. You were kneeling on the floor right between his parted thighs. Even now, with his legs spread for you, he was trying so hard to maintain that aura of untouchable grace. He rested one elbow on the armrest, his chin propped on his knuckles as he looked down at you through half-lidded, heavy brown eyes.
"Satisfied?" he hummed, his voice smooth and incredibly patronizing. "You’ve been relentlessly impatient, and now you finally have me exactly where you want me. Just do try to be gentle, won't you? I'd prefer not to make a mess tonight."
His arrogant, perfectly constructed little speech died instantly in his throat the second you bypassed his thighs and buried your face directly against his soaking heat. He tried to quickly muffle the sharp gasp that escaped him, biting down hard on his lower lip, but you weren't going to let him stay composed. Not after making you wait this long.
You gripped his thighs, your thumbs pressing firmly into the muscle as you dragged your tongue in long, deliberate, punishing strokes over his center. Suguru tensed violently, his hips involuntarily jerking upward against your mouth as his lower back arched completely off the cushion.
He tried to recover his composure, forcing a shaky exhale through his nose. He reached a trembling hand down, his palm finding the top of your head in a soft, patronizing pat—a desperate attempt to pace you. "Ah... you certainly don't hold back, do you?" his voice wavered, entirely losing its smooth edge. "That's... slow down a little, sweetheart, I can't—"
But the gentle head pat immediately turned into a white-knuckled, bruising grip in your hair the second you slid two fingers deep inside him, hooking upward to find the deep, internal ache he’d been so desperately hiding.
Suguru’s facade entirely crumbled. His hips buckled, lifting completely off the velvet cushion as he tried to chase the angle of your fingers.
"Wait, please, you're—ah! God, fuck!" he choked out, his voice cracking into a high, ruined pitch.
He was completely overstimulated, his long, muscular legs trembling violently against your ribs. He tried to pull you closer by your hair and push your shoulders away at the exact same time, his body entirely confused by the sheer volume of pleasure. A ruined, desperate whine tore past his lips, his head throwing back against the chair as his toes curled into the carpet.
Then, the final, stubborn thread of his control snapped.
Suguru let out a loud, melodic cry. His entire body locked up tight, and a sudden, rush of hot fluid met your awaiting mouth, completely coating your tongue in the sudden.
The intense rush of it left him completely hollowed out. He slumped forward in the armchair, his chest heaving with ragged, wet gasps. His hands slipped out of your hair, falling limply into his lap as the last of the intense tremors wracked his frame.
For a long, heavy moment, the only sound in the quiet bedroom was his open-mouthed breathing.
"So this is why you've been avoiding me for weeks," you teased, your voice low and deeply satisfied in the quiet room. "You were terrified I'd make you completely lose your mind. I've never seen anyone drench a chair this fast. Look at what you did to my face."
A pathetic, utterly mortified groan escaped his throat.
"Have a little mercy..." Suguru rasped out, his usually eloquent vocabulary completely deserting him. He looked utterly stripped of his pride, his shaking hands coming up to frantically drag down his burning face. "I had no idea I was even capable of that. God, you're wearing half of it. Please, don't gloat, I'm already entirely humiliated."
You chuckled, catching his trembling wrists and gently pulling his hands away from his face, refusing to let him hide. You leaned forward, crowding into his space between his thighs, and pressed a quick, wet kiss right to his trembling lips.
Suguru melted the second your lips met his, a soft, needy whimper vibrating deep in his chest. All the tension drained out of his rigid posture. When you pulled back just an inch, his brown eyes were wide and beautifully dazed, his intense embarrassment entirely replaced by a heavy, pliant heat.
Before he could try to find his composure again, he just completely surrendered. He slid right off the edge of the armchair, his knees hitting the floor right in front of you as he wrapped his long arms tightly around your neck. He buried his burning, flushed face deep into the crook of your shoulder, his perfectly kept facade completely destroyed and abandoned.
His trembling hand came up, instinctively finding the back of your head to offer a soft, shaky pat—his usual comforting gesture, though right now, he was entirely the one who needed it.
"You win," he mumbled into your skin, his voice muffled and shaky, though he was clinging to you like a lifeline, his bare thighs bracketing your waist on the floor. "I severely underestimated you. Now just... hold me, and let me pretend this didn't happen."
naoya. z
The bedroom was stifling, the air heavy with the frantic, wet sounds of his undoing. Naoya was pinned against the headboard, his pale legs hooked over your shoulders and his ankles locked behind your neck in an involuntary, white-knuckled grip. His hair was a sweat-slicked mess, and his dark eyeliner was completely ruined, dragged across his cheekbones in jagged streaks by the tears he couldn’t stop.
"Stop... I said stop!" he choked out, his voice cracking. He tried to shove at your shoulders, but his arms were shaking so violently his hands just slid off.
You didn't listen. You gripped his thighs tighter, your fingers digging into his skin, and buried your face back into his soaking heat. While your tongue swirled in heavy, demanding circles over his center, you slid two fingers deep inside him, stretching him wide and hitting that internal sweet spot with a punishing pace.
The double assault was too much for his nerves. Naoya’s entire body spasmed, a sharp, broken cry tearing from his throat. His hips buckled, his muscles clenching greedily around your fingers even as he tried to pull away from the friction.
"Just one more, Naoya," you murmured against his skin, your voice a low vibration that made him sob.
"It’s not... ah!... how you won't stop! You're... ngh!"
He was completely overstimulated, his nerves frayed, yet he arched further into the touch. His toes curled, and his breath came in hitched, needy whines. You increased the pressure, your tongue flickering faster as your fingers worked him into a frenzy.
"One more," you repeated, your teeth grazing him lightly.
"No! No more, please—Aaaah!"
He went rigid, his back arching off the bed as the next wave hit him. His thighs twitched uncontrollably against your ears as his body finally gave up, then came the gush of slick, coating almost the entirety of your lower face.
He let out a ruined, melodic cry, his hands flying up to cover his face in shame. He was sobbing openly now, his frame vibrating with the force of the climax. You finally pulled back, tasting the salt of him on your lips as you looked at the state of him—the smeared makeup, the trembling limbs, and the soaking mess on the bed.
"You're such a pretty mess, baby," you murmured, reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. "Look at you. All that big talk, and you’re just a leaky little girl for me, aren't you?"
Naoya visibly cringed at the endearment, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. A deep, frantic blush climbed all the way to the tips of his ears. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson.
"What are you looking at, idiot?" he snapped, though his voice was entirely too shaky to carry any real weight. He squinted at you through his glassy, tear-filled eyes, his face a brilliant, humiliated crimson. "Don't call me that... it's pathetic. I'm not some dumb woman or a bitch for you to talk down to."
"Funny," you teased, your tone perfectly cocky as you deliberately let a drop of his slick run down your chin. "Because you're the one on your back, drenching the sheets because you couldn't handle a little tongue. For someone who hates women so much, you sure do scream like a girl for me."
Naoya visibly recoiled, his lip curling in a sneer that was half-furious and half-shattered. "I do NOT—!"
"You do," you interrupted, leaning in until your nose brushed his. "You’re pouting like a bratty little princess just because I made you lose your mind. It’s cute, Naoya. Really."
"I am NOT cute!" he hissed, his voice cracking with indignity. He reached out with a trembling hand, grabbing your collar and tugging you upward with a weak, desperate jerk. "Wipe your face. You look disgusting. You're filthy, and it’s your fault I’m like this anyway."
Despite the insult, he didn't let go of your shirt. His legs remained wide, his heels digging into the mattress as he pulled you closer. His eyes darted to your zipper with a desperate, impatient hunger that betrayed every word of his bratty protest.
"Well?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a needy, demanding rasp. "Are you just going to stare at me and say stupid things all night, or are you actually going to finish this? I'm not waiting any longer. Hurry up and give it to me."
"Say please, then," you hummed. "Tell me you want it, pretty girl."
"Shut up!" he barked, though he immediately arched his hips back up against you, practically begging for the contact. "Just... just do it! Please, damn you!"
Sorry this took so long I just get lazy sometimes lol. Let me know if you guys have any requests or feedback! Otherwise just listen to me jerk off on all fours and cum all over my bedsheets ^w^
₊⊹ A/N: this is inspired by the animation of time skip izuku. lmk if i should do chapter 2.
The classroom was silent, save for the faint scratch of your pen against the stack of hero ethics essays you were grading. The late hour painted the windows of UA High in inky black, the campus long deserted after the students had gone home. You liked working late, less interruptions, less noise. But tonight, there was one persistent thorn in your side that just wouldn’t leave you alone.
Izuku Midoriya.
You could feel his stare burning into you from across the staff room. He was always there, lingering like a damn shadow, pretending to shuffle through his own paperwork while his emerald eyes flicked up to you every few seconds. It had been like this for months since you’d joined the faculty as a combat tactics instructor. Izuku, the ever-earnest heroics teacher, had latched onto you almost immediately. At first, it was subtle, little compliments on your teaching style, shy offers to carry your books or grab you coffee. Then it escalated. He started finding excuses to be near you, brushing against you in the hallway, stammering apologies while his cheeks flushed bright red. Now, it was outright shameless.
“Hey, um, Y/N-sensei,” his voice cut through the silence, soft but laced with a nervous edge that grated on your nerves. “D-Do you need help with those essays? I’m pretty much done with mine, and I thought—”
“No, Midoriya,” you snapped, not even looking up from your work. “I’ve got it handled. Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
You heard him shuffle in his seat, the faintest whine escaping his lips. “I-I just thought… you’ve been working so hard, and I wanted to—”
“Stop.” Your tone was sharp, cutting him off mid-sentence. You finally glanced up, your eyes narrowing as they met his. Those damn eyes of his, wide, glistening with something between awe and hunger—always seemed to be pleading for something. “If I need help, I’ll ask for it. Sit down and finish whatever you’re pretending to do.”
His lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as he nodded quickly. “R-Right. Sorry, Y/N-sensei.” He ducked his head, but you didn’t miss the way his hands fidgeted under the desk, or the faint flush creeping up his neck. Pathetic. And yet, there was something about the way he looked at you, desperate, almost feral, that sent a prickle of heat down your spine.
You went back to your grading, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. But it was impossible. Every few minutes, he’d shift in his seat, letting out a dramatic sigh or muttering something under his breath just loud enough for you to hear. “Gosh, it’s so late… I bet Y/N-sensei is exhausted… if only she’d let me help…”
Your pen stilled. That was the last straw.
“Midoriya,” you said, voice low and dangerous as you slammed the pen down on your desk. His head shot up, eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. “Get over here. Now.”
He scrambled to his feet so fast he nearly tripped over his chair, hurrying to stand in front of your desk. His hands were clasped in front of him, fingers twitching nervously, but you could see the way his thighs pressed together, the subtle bulge in his slacks that he was trying—and failing—to hide. “Y-Yes, Y/N-sensei?”
You stood slowly, rounding the desk until you were right in front of him. He was taller than you by a few inches, but the way he hunched his shoulders and avoided your gaze made him seem so much smaller. You reached out, grabbing his chin roughly and forcing his head up to meet your eyes. His breath hitched, a soft whimper slipping out as his face turned scarlet.
“You’ve been a pain in my ass all night,” you growled, your grip tightening just enough to make him wince. “Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me like some desperate little puppy? What do you want, huh? Spit it out.”
His lips trembled, eyes darting away before flickering back to yours, brimming with heat. “I-I just… I want to help you, Y/N-sensei. I… I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry, I know I’m annoying, but I—”
A sharp crack echoed through the room as your hand came down across his cheek, the slap ringing out in the silence. His head jerked to the side, a gasp tearing from his throat as his hand flew up to touch the reddening mark. But the way his eyes glazed over, pupils blown wide, told you everything you needed to know.
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you hissed, stepping closer until your bodies were nearly pressed together. “You don’t want to help. You want my attention. You want me to notice you. Well, guess what, Midoriya? You’ve got it. Now what?”
He swallowed hard, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as he pouted, his voice trembling. “Y-You’re so mean, Y/N-sensei… I just wanted to be nice, and you… you hit me…”
“Oh, don’t start with the crocodile tears,” you snapped, grabbing a fistful of his messy green hair and yanking his head back. He yelped, his hands flailing for a moment before settling at his sides, trembling. “You love this, don’t you? Look at you, practically shaking with excitement. You’re disgusting.”
His cheeks burned even brighter, a shaky whine escaping as he squirmed under your grip. “N-No, I don’t… I don’t like it… you’re being too rough…” But his words lacked any conviction, especially when you noticed the way his hips twitched, the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants.
“Liar.” You let go of his hair, only to shove him backward. He stumbled, catching himself against the edge of a desk with a soft grunt. Before he could recover, you were on him again, spinning him around and bending him over the desk with a firm hand on his back. He gasped, hands gripping the edges as you pressed yourself against him, your voice hot in his ear. “You’ve been begging for this all night. Don’t pretend with me.”
“P-Please, Y/N-sensei,” he whimpered, his voice breaking as he pushed his hips back against you, just enough to feel the friction. “I-I didn’t mean to make you mad… I’ll be good, I promise…”
You smirked, pulling back just enough to bring your hand down hard on his ass. The sound of the slap was loud, and he cried out, his body jerking against the desk. “Good? You? Not a chance. You’re a needy little brat who doesn’t know when to quit. But that’s fine. I’ve got all night to teach you some manners.”
His breath came in short, ragged pants, and when you glanced at his face looking back at you, you saw the tears streaking down his cheeks, but his eyes were burning with something raw, something primal. He wanted more. Needed more. And fuck, if that didn’t stir something in you, too.
You grabbed his arm, yanking him up from the desk and shoving him against the wall. He hit it with a thud, a soft moan slipping out as his head tilted back, exposing the pale column of his throat. “Y-Y/N-sensei, please… I can’t… I can’t take it…”
“You’ll take whatever I give you,” you said, voice dripping with authority as you pressed a hand against his chest, pinning him in place. Your other hand slid down, brushing over the front of his slacks, and he jolted, a desperate whine escaping his lips. “Look at this. So hard already, just from a few slaps. You’re pathetic, Midoriya.”
He bit his lip, tears spilling over again as he shook his head. “N-No, I’m not… I don’t want this…” But the way his hips bucked into your touch told a different story. You smirked, letting your fingers trace over him, just light enough to make him squirm.
“Don’t lie to me,” you said, giving him a firm squeeze that had him gasping, his knees buckling slightly. “You’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Me putting you in your place. Me making you cry. Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop right now.”
His eyes widened, a panicked look crossing his face as he shook his head frantically. “No, no, please don’t stop! I… I do want it. I’ve wanted it for so long, Y/N-sensei. I can’t stop thinking about you… about you being rough with me, punishing me. I’m sorry, I know I’m a mess, but please…”
There it was. The confession you’d been waiting for. You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Good boy. That’s what I like to hear.”
The shudder that ran through him at your praise was visceral, his breath hitching as he melted under your touch. “T-Thank you, Y/N-sensei…”
“Don’t thank me yet,” you said, pulling back with a smirk. “We’re just getting started. I think you’ve earned yourself a little detention after hours. Let’s see how much you can take before you break.”
His eyes lit up, a mix of fear and anticipation swirling in them as he nodded eagerly. “Y-Yes, Y/N-sensei. Whatever you want…”
— ft. k.bakugo, i.midoriya, s.todoroki, t.iida, h.shinsou, e.kirishima
— author’s note : first post, please be kind world!
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
⭑ Katsuki Bakugo
You fell first.
Second week at U.A. and you were already head over heels for him. No one really understood why—it was Bakugo Katsuki, after all. Always yelling, always scowling, always furious at the world. He barely looked your way. Mina and Denki joked that you must have a death wish whenever you brought him up.
But then… things changed. Quietly.
For some reason, he never yelled at you. Not even once. Not even when you threw yourself in front of Tsuyu during a practice mission and ended up needing to be carried out of the building.
He just muttered, “Dumbass” twice, while lifting you up and walking you to Recovery Girl.
After that came the water bottles. Every time training ended, he’d toss you one and mumble, “Stay hydrated. I’m not carrying you again.”
Liar.
Kirishima was the only one who noticed he always kept an extra bottle, just in case.
The real turning point, though?
That poor boy from Class B who dared to ask you on a date.
Bakugo nearly exploded. Kirishima had to physically hold him back to stop him from lunging at the guy.
And before you could even respond, Bakugo grabbed your wrist and started walking.
You were stunned.
“Bakugo—what are you doing?”
“Me and you,” he said gruffly, eyes locked straight ahead.
“Date. Now.”
That night changed everything.
No one dared to tease him after that. Not when he made it so clear you were his. And he didn’t care what anyone thought.
He loved you loudly, fiercely, intentionally—until the whole damn school stopped questioning why you had fallen so hard for him.
And by then, he had already fallen harder.
⭑ Izuku Midoriya
He fell first.
He knew he liked you—really liked you—the moment you used your quirk to throw the ball so far that everyone realized: if someone was getting expelled that day, it definitely wasn’t you.
Admiration wasn’t the reason he noticed his feelings.
Most of your classmates were impressed by your control, your power, the precision with which you handled something so seemingly simple.
But Izuku? He didn’t reach for his notebook. He didn’t ramble about your technique or potential. He just… watched. No notes. No muttering. Just silence.
He saw the way your shoulders relaxed when it was over. The way you laughed at something Mina said, and how you smiled when Bakugo threw in one of his backhanded compliments. He noticed everything.
He never admitted it, but when he broke his finger to launch that ball across the field, it wasn’t just to prove himself.
Yes, he wanted to stay at U.A. Yes, he wanted to make All Might proud.
But truthfully?
He just wanted to stay long enough to see you again.
Even if that meant going through Aizawa’s “one of you will be expelled” threat every week.
(He was so relieved when no one actually was.)
But you—sweet, clueless you—you fell harder.
Everyone knew how smitten Deku was with you. And deep down, so did you. But when you called your mom late one night, asking for the recipe of a pastry you knew he loved, something shifted.
You spent hours in the kitchen baking batch after batch, trying to get it just right. You barely slept, but the next morning you showed up, cheeks red, handing him the best one you had.
You both blushed your way through breakfast that day, and when he smiled—really smiled—you knew you were done for.
Eventually, you started dating.
Yes, he is your biggest supporter. He loves you loudly and earnestly.
But you?
You’re his biggest fan—collecting every merch, magazine, and article with his name on it.
And he tries to act like it doesn’t get to him.
But it does.
And it makes him happier than he’ll ever admit.
⭑ Shoto Todoroki
You fell first.
You had already fallen for him years before he even looked at you that way.
It all started when your parents arranged for both of you to train when you were 8, to make out of you enemies who would eventually compete to be the #1 pro hero.
Both of you would fight each other, week after week. You, technically, weren’t allowed to exchange pleasantries—after all, you were there to compete. But you would always find a way to talk to him, about anything really. Once you started to talk about how much you missed eating candies, he didn’t answer, but a timid smile formed on his face.
As the years passed, you started to develop feelings for him. He would catch you staring for too long, you made it seem as if you were analyzing him or just zoned out, but deep down, both of you knew.
As both of you made it into U.A., your friendship finally had a chance to grow. To have actual, not rushed conversations. But you never pressured him, never talked about your obvious feelings, you knew he needed time to heal, as much as you did.
But, eventually, he fell harder.
Much harder.
Maybe it was during that night patrol in second year, when he almost got hit by debris and you shielded him without hesitation—burning the edge of your hero costume in the process. He didn’t say much that night. Just looked at you with those stormy eyes and asked, quietly, “Are you okay?”
Or maybe it was the moment he realized you had memorized his favorite tea, the exact way he liked it. That day, you passed him a cup without saying a word, and he froze, fingers lingering on the ceramic longer than they should have. You always noticed the small things—especially when he didn’t say them out loud.
It was never loud, the way he loved you.
But it was there—in how he always sat next to you during strategy meetings, how he started calling you after rough patrols, how he waited for you after every exam. You never asked him to. He just always did.
Eventually, one evening after training, when the sun was sinking low behind the U.A. dorms, he looked at you and said,
“You were the first person who treated me like I wasn’t broken.”
You looked at him, startled by the confession.
And then, softly: “You never were.”
He didn’t say anything back.
But that was the moment he knew he was yours—fully, irreversibly.
And that he had fallen far too deep to ever come back up.
⭑ Tenya Iida
You fell first.
Maybe it was the way he apologized with his whole soul after accidentally bumping into you in the hallway.
Or the way he always remembered to pull a chair for you before meetings.
Or how he waited outside your dorm when he knew you’d had a hard day—without saying a word, just… being there.
Maybe it was how fiercely protective he was of the people he loved. The way he fought for his brother’s name, for what he believed in, even when it left him bruised.
Or maybe it was after that mission, when you were gravely injured, and he carried you all the way to the nurse’s office, gripping you tightly, whispering your name, running faster than even he thought possible.
You didn’t remember it well—you were slipping in and out of consciousness—but he did. Every second.
And the next day, he came back.
With pastries.
And the neatest notes he had ever taken—if that was even possible, just so you could study.
And hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
He was kind. Loving. Unintentionally funny. A gentleman through and through.
Of course you fell first.
But poor Iida…
he fell harder.
He tried. Honestly, he did. You were both studying, you were both young—he told himself that again and again. But he never got past those two excuses. Not really.
He stayed up until 3 a.m. with Sato trying to recreate that chocolate cake you always praised, just to cheer you up after your injury.
He spent the entire night debating whether to visit you before classes.
He didn’t.
But he left the tray outside your door anyway, carefully arranged. And still came back later, awkward but devoted, with more pastries and a hundred unspoken words.
Somewhere between all the long hours, the careful notes, the conversations under low dorm lighting—
He fell. Harder than he’d ever thought possible.
For him, it wasn’t just affection.
You were a promise. A reminder that he could build something good in this world—with you in it.
And when he saw you cry once, quietly, under the staircase after another grueling day, something broke in him.
He sat beside you. Took off his gloves. Held your hand.
It was the first time he’d touched you, skin to skin.
And his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.
From then on, he never tried to hide it again.
He memorized your schedule.
He read your favorite books.
He learned to brew your favorite tea, even though he didn’t like tea.
You noticed. Of course you did.
But you didn’t say anything.
Not until he showed up at your door one night, fists clenched, eyes wide, tie slightly crooked, and said:
“I know this may be reckless and horribly timed, but I am—truly, entirely—in love with you.”
You smiled.
Because by then, he didn’t need to say it.
You’d fallen first, but he made it impossible not to fall harder, too.
⭑ Hitoshi Shinsou
He fell first.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious.
And at first, he told himself it was just curiosity.
When he joined the Hero Course and became part of Class 1-A, you were the first to look at him—not like the guy with the “villain-ish” quirk, not like a threat to be watched, or a weapon to be handled carefully.
You didn’t treat him with stiff politeness or cautious distance.
You treated him like a classmate. Like a potential friend.
You laughed at his jokes, tossed back your own sharp comments.
You noticed when he pulled away from the group.
You called him out when he got too closed-off—but you always gave him space when he needed it. Just… quietly shared it with him.
The moment he realized something had shifted was probably stupid.
You complimented his eyes.
You had the audacity to step a little too close, stare straight at him like you were trying to see through all the walls he’d spent years building.
He had no idea what to say.
You just laughed—soft and satisfied—
and walked away.
He thought about it for days.
He didn’t understand what he was feeling.
But then he started bringing you extra snacks after training.
He slowed his pace just enough to walk beside you.
He stood just a little too close during sparring.
It wasn’t intentional. Not at first.
But for him, you were stronger than gravity.
He fell.
And he fell quietly.
But you?
You fell harder.
You knew it the night he texted you out of nowhere:
Toshi:
Hey. Don’t come to training tomorrow. You looked tired today. Take a break.
You stared at the message for ten minutes, rereading it.
He’d noticed. He noticed you.
And he was looking out for you, in his strange, quiet, Shinsou way.
You didn’t listen, of course.
You showed up to training anyway—just to see him roll his eyes when you winked at him.
After that, it was over.
You memorized the rhythm of his voice.
You learned the little signs—when he was overwhelmed, when he needed silence, when he needed you.
You started recognizing how he fidgeted with the capture weapon Aizawa was teaching him to use—especially when he was nervous about a mission.
You could always tell.
And somehow, that made you fall even harder.
He fell first.
But you fell deeper.
And now, he doesn’t know what to do with the way your hand lingers on his sleeve.
Or how his pulse stutters when you whisper his name.
He hasn’t said it out loud yet.
But you think…
He’s almost ready.
⭑ Eijirou Kirishima
You fell first.
When you heard him say he didn’t think he was “manly enough” to be a hero, you just wanted to hug him—wrap him up in every reassurance you had, tell him that of course he was manly enough to do anything he dreamed of.
You suspected your feelings then, but shoved them under the couch, hoping no one would notice.
Mina noticed. She always did.
When he laughed too hard at one of Denki’s terrible jokes and immediately looked embarrassed, you blushed.
Sero noticed.
You blamed the heat.
But when he stepped in front of a child during a villain ambush and said,
“Don’t worry. I’m unbreakable.”
that was it. You were done for.
But Kirishima?
He fell harder.
It didn’t show all at once.
It crept in slowly.
In the way he trained just enough to always be paired with you during sparring.
In how he memorized your favorite techniques so he could practice them with you.
In how his quirk—his actual, physical walls—cracked a little when you hugged him after a hard day, and how he turned bright red trying to play it cool.
The breaking point?
Someone else confessed to you.
And he just… walked out. Silent. Stiff.
He came back hours later.
Hands shaking.
Eyes soft.
“I know I’m not smooth like Todoroki, or cool like Bakugo… but I think I’m strong enough to protect your heart.”
Boom.
Done.
Unbreakable?
Not anymore.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
steal this and katsuki bakugo will personally find you.
summary. "my parents aren't home" is a hell of a text to get from your reserved boyfriend. now you have to see what's going on, don't you?
wc. 7.4k
tags. smut | sub bottom megumi, top reader, they're both 20yo+, reader is described as big + fights like a brawler (to fit with megumi's shikigami [:), fingering, oral + rimming (megumi receiving), brief thigh fucking, size difference (skinny megumi (it's the gojo genes, it's out of my control)), belly bulge, multiple orgasms, untouched orgasms, doggy style, light mind break/humiliation. gojo makes an appearance at the end.
notes. ngl aging up characters feels a little strange to me? idk if i'll do it again lol
[ requested ]
Megumi is sore, tired, and cranky. Crankier than usual, anyway. His state wasn't helped by his boyfriend, who seemed to have limitless energy and always had a one-liner on hand, who had skipped him back home, planted a kiss on his lips at his doorstep, and promptly skedaddled before Satoru found them canoodling. His mood had soured immediately upon his departure.
His rush to get away was inconsequential, however, as Megumi later found a handwritten note on the kitchen counter regarding Satoru's cross-country midnight snack run.
Megumi's thumb hovers over the 'send' button on his phone.
Come over. Gojo's out.
He debates the idea.
His vices get the better of him.
His phone pings. I love it when you're rebellious! Be there in ten.
Ten minutes? Knowing you, you'd only need five. You liked him so much it was rather embarrassing, and he never hesitated to tell you so – all you did, however, was grin brightly at him and agree.
Regardless, this gives him a few minutes to kill. He'll clean up his room before you arrive.
Six minutes later, there's a soft knock on his balcony door. He glances up from where he sits on his bed, tugging his headphones down around his neck. Beyond the glass are the twinkling night lights of Tokyo, steel spires and reflective glass points jutting up into the black night sky. Unfortunately, he can't see any stars, but the little red lights blinking atop skyscrapers are calming enough.
He sets his laptop aside and rises to his feet. He slides open the door and glances up.
You grin down at him, stuck to the side of the building by the palm of your hand and the soles of your shoes. You look quite comfortable, crouched against the glassy surface, despite being thirty storeys up from being a pancake on the footpath.
"How's it hanging?" you greet with a wave. "All clear on the inside?"
"Mhm." He nods. "Come on in. Cold outside."
He turns, leaving the door open. You land on the balcony with nary a sound, kicking off your shoes and tucking them in the shadowy corner between his potted hosta plants. It was a space he made for you, as he shared a balcony with Satoru, and it wasn't visible beneath the broad hanging leaves unless you crouched down.
You slip inside and lock the door with a soft click, watching with a soft smile as Megumi taps away at his laptop, completing a section of his mission report. He doesn't like to leave paragraphs unfinished.
While he scowls at his screen, you dip into his bathroom to wash your hands and fix your hair. It gets windy after you clear the twentieth floor.
You waltz out, humming softly and shucking off your jacket. You toss it over his desk chair. "So, you called for me? What's on the itinerary tonight?"
He shuts his laptop, setting it aside. He wiggles his toes in his socks, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Dunno. Didn't think this far ahead."
"Nah, I don't believe that for a second. You're always thinking. 'The quiet ones have the loudest minds', right?"
He rolls his eyes but allows a small smile to tug at his lips. He leans back on his palms as you take a seat on his bed, draping yourself over his sheets. You prop yourself up on an elbow, and the twist of your body offers him a straight-through view down the gape of your baggy t-shirt. He stares, unabashed, as he replies.
"Mm... I'm definitely thinking of something right now."
Your grin turns sharp. You tilt your head. "Like you weren't thinking this the first time you texted me, Megumi. You have exactly two thoughts about me, and you're not calling me a loudmouthed idiot so I can only assume it's thought number two."
"You are a loudmouthed idiot." He allows you to scoot closer and slip his headphones off from around his neck, setting them next to his laptop on his bedside table. You hover over him as he settles back into his pillows with a soft sigh, spreading his thighs to fit you between them. He places his hands on your waist. "You going to put words in my mouth, now? Gonna guess what I'm thinking?"
You grin, rolling your hips against his. He sucks in a breath. "I could put a few things in your mouth... 'Words' aren't on the list."
"You're a dog," he mumbles, pale cheeks flushing. "Stupid."
"Oh, you like it," you say playfully, patting his cheek. "Getting shy, are we? C'mon, Megumi, don't clam up now! Tell me what you want from me. If I need to be, I can be quiet."
"Tsumiki's not here this week," he mutters, lifting his hands to your shoulders and tracing your collarbones. "No need."
"Well, all the better for me, huh? I get to pull as many pretty sounds out of you as I want and nobody can stop me." You tug on the bottom of his basketball shorts, sliding it up his leg. You sit up, pulling Megumi's thighs on top of yours.
He stares down at himself, his cheeks reddening. Christ. He swears one of your thighs is as big as his waist. He shudders out a breath as you tug your shirt over your head – grabbing it from the back of the neck in that Hollywood-jock way – and toss it aside carelessly, all too eager to put your hands on him.
"This is what you wanted, right?" you ask, tugging up his shirt to reveal his lean stomach. You place a hand against it, measuring the size, and Megumi twitches in his shorts. "Otherwise, shirt goes back on and I'm raiding your fridge."
He rolls his eyes, grabbing your hair and yanking you down to push his mouth against yours. You groan softly and he pulls at your belt, deftly undoing it with one hand. It eventually slips off the bed with a soft clink, but neither of you care.
"You can steal the juice after you fuck me, you walking stereotype," he mutters against your lips. "Unfortunately for you, no one here drinks."
"Damn," you say, not particularly disappointed. "Is it orange juice?"
"Yeah. The expensive, sustainably-produced kind with the pulp."
"That might be better than any vodka. Quick, strip for me. I wanna see what other fun stuff you have in the pantry. Do you have any square watermelons?"
Megumi kicks you in the hip, making you flinch and groan. "I'll break up with you if you're only with me to steal my food. You also can't eat square watermelons."
"Sorry, sorry," you wheeze, massaging the achy spot on your ribs. "Bad joke. I'm with you because I think you're cute – and hot."
He huffs, pulling his arms back and crossing them over his chest. "Uh-huh... You know, I'm not sure I'm in the mood anymore."
"What?" Your eyes widen. "Wait, Megumi, baby, I really am sorry! How do you take your apologies? Poached, fried, sunny-side-up?"
He gives you an unimpressed look, jade-green eyes boring into you. A brush of your hand over his shorts tells you he's not not into it, but you doubt your jokes are helping. You've got to get back onto his good side.
"I'll eat you out," you murmur, mustering up all the sincerity you can in your expression. "Wouldn't you like that? You'd shut me up, wrap your pretty legs 'round my head. Win-win, huh?"
He considers your proposition, pressing his knuckles to his mouth. You shift and inch your face closer to his pelvis, playing with the elastic band of his shorts. You cup his thighs, one in each palm, and Megumi ruffles his dark hair with a sigh and slumps back into the sheets.
"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Lube's in the drawer." He jerks his chin in its direction.
"Fuck yes," you breathe, scrambling over and digging around for it. The drawer also contains a notebook, an old high-school pencil case, and a worn copy of Tolkien's The Two Towers. Two highlighters and a pencil rattle around freely, and you don't doubt that he's done some light annotation work within the book's margins.
"This is another reason I love you," you say, pulling out the nondescript white tube. "Great taste in literature."
"Classic for a reason," he mutters, accepting your kiss. He tugs you back in for a deeper one, warm lips moulding so perfectly with yours. He hums softly and lifts his hips to help you shimmy off his shorts and underwear. His pretty pink cock twitches under your heavy gaze.
He rolls his hips against your thigh impatiently. "Well?" he prompts, lifting a brow. "Apologise away."
"Right, right." You uncap the tube and slather your fingers in a generous amount, pressing the tip of your middle finger against his taut hole. "I'll be gentle."
"I know."
You ease each knuckle into him, slow and steady. He clenches at the cold feeling. He's tight with just one finger, and you're honestly still surprised he manages to fit you at all.
"I have to prep you so much. Like a virgin," you mumble, breathy and awed. He clicks his tongue, his voice steady even as his hole flutters around your finger.
"Shut up, you're so embarrassing." He scowls. "Not my fault you're huge."
"Eh..." You shrug, working him open gently. "Am I big or are you small? Seriously. Puberty did nothing for you."
"I'm taller than Yuji. That's all I care about."
You chuckle, caressing his thigh. His hole, wet with lube, sucks you in eagerly. You chance a second finger, and his back arches as he grips the sheets, a staccato sound between a gasp and a groan escaping his throat.
"Tall and pretty," you hum, fucking your fingers into him. You scissor them when you sink in to the knuckle, brushing his prostate, and his cock twitches where it lays on his stomach. "Like a model."
"Ah, good. I'm your trophy boyfriend." His breath hitches as your fingers glide against that spot inside him. "Fuck. Less talking, more doing, babe. Want your mouth on me."
"Yes, dear," you reply teasingly, sinking out of his vision. Your hot breath fans his cock and his eyes flutter shut as your soft lips close around his tip, lapping at it gently. You hold it up with the vee of your fingers, your warm palm splayed across his stomach to keep him down. Your other hand works him open, slick sounds echoing off the walls of his room.
He's not generally a loud lover, which is a right shame because his moans are addictive. You just have to work hard for them. He exhales sharply, fingers digging into your scalp, as you take him in your mouth down to the base with ease. His thighs tense and he tosses his calves over the breadth of your shoulders, digging his heels into your bare back. You radiate warmth like a damn heater, and the room's already beginning to feel stuffy – or maybe that's just him.
You hum quietly around his cock, making his back arch with the vibrations. You press on his prostate at the same time and the pleasure bites its way right through him, sharp and sweet. He curses under his breath, tugging his shirt up around his chest to give you better access. You thank him by kissing his tip, flicking your tongue against the wet slit, and engulf him to the root.
He moans your name, reflexively tugging you further into him. "Shit—! Fuck, goddamn—"
You pop off for a breather, smirking as he instinctively pushes your face towards his cock. "Got any more swear words for me, baby?"
"Yeah, here's one. Fuck you."
"Eh." You waver a hand. "Technically, you already said that."
"Suck my dick."
"Good job! That's a new one," you hum, and oblige with a grin. You use the distraction to slip a third finger into Megumi and his back arches, hole clamping down around you. He struggles to relax – you can only fit them in to the second knuckle – and you pop off to coo softly, reaching for the lube and applying more. He squelches when you push them in and you press gentle circles into his hip, watching your fingers sink into him carefully.
"You're doin' great, Megumi," you murmur, and his heart skips a beat. "Sorry, I need to reposition. You – are coming with me."
He gasps when you tug him down his mattress by his ankle, closer to where you kneel at the foot of his bed. You part his thighs again and return your fingers to his hole, pumping them slowly. You blow cool air against his tight pink rim and he hisses softly, a complaint already rolling around in his mouth.
The words promptly die in his throat when you give his hole an experimental lick.
"Oh, fuck," he nearly whimpers, eyes screwed shut as you dip your tongue into his ass. His hand twists in the baby hairs at the nape of your neck and his hips jerk into your mouth.
You curl your fingers, pressing harshly on that sensitive bundle of nerves, and he jolts with a harsh gasp. You lave at his tightening pink hole and he digs his heels into your back as you flick your tongue against him, matching the pace of your fingers.
You're still gentle – just unrelenting. The slick sounds of your fingers filling his hole are filthy, and excess lube smears against his ass with a lewd shine. You bury your face in his ass and your other hand holds his leaking cock out of the way, flattening it against his stomach, and he can't help the jolt of pleasure that runs through him at the sight.
It's like his cock isn't even there anymore. You're so concentrated on eating him out that this little part of him has gone forgotten – not like it really matters, though, because holy shit, your mouth is incredible, quick and dextrous. You barely have to breathe. Guess all that talking really does help with other things.
He murmurs something, fisting the sheets until his knuckles go white. You can't hear him over the obscene sounds his slick asshole is making when you push your fingers into him.
"What was that, baby?"
He grunts softly as you jab his prostate. He shudders. His breaths are quick and shaky, his hands constantly switching from gripping the sheets to your head. He peels his eyes open, resolutely staring at his ceiling and not at you.
"I'm close," he whispers, body jerking as you shift the arm pinning his hips down. Your nails scrape over the underside of his cock. "Oh, shit, shit, shit – your tongue—"
He can almost feel you smirk as you double your efforts, fingers digging into his stomach to keep him from bucking up into you. Your fingers twist and curl, opening his tight ass up so nicely, and your tongue traces his twitching hole, lapping up his flavoured lube.
Then you slip your long tongue in with your fingers.
Megumi seizes, thighs clamping around your head, and you groan in pleasure as you feel him jolt and tremble under you, his cock spurting across your hand. Hot streaks of thick come spatter his stomach and it flexes as he gasps and pants, rocking your face into him and pulling on your hair so hard it almost hurts. You tug on his cock absently, smearing your palm with his release.
When he returns to his senses, he lets you go, legs falling limp like jelly to the bed. He shudders and shivers, gulping down breaths as his lashes flutter. His hair is extra messy, jutting out in every direction across the sheets.
You coo his name, eyes clouded with lust as you grin lazily between his legs. You rest your head on his inner thigh and he twitches, sensitive. With his eyes on you, you bring your come-sticky fingers to your mouth and wrap your lips around them, sucking them clean. A pearly droplet rolls down the side of your palm and you twist your wrist to lick it up, long scarlet tongue running from wrist to pinky. He shudders out a wanton sigh.
Despite the sight making his cock twitch with interest, his brow furrows. He needs to regain a sliver of dignity. "You're – You're such a pervert..."
"Says the one who loves getting his ass ate," you tease, running your tongue over your palm. Your other hand has disappeared out of sight, and he assumes being trapped in your jeans isn't fun. "You came because of it. You're such a nerd."
His frown deepens. "I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not."
You roll your eyes and grin, rising to your feet and shuffling onto his bed. You tug insistently on his shirt and he allows you to slip it off. "Agree to disagree?"
"I don't like agreeing with you about most things, generally."
"My god, you're such a bitch," you murmur, chuckling. You grab his thighs, pressing them together, and toss them over your shoulder, slotting yourself flush against his ass. He gasps, face pink. "Fine, back to basics. Are we dating?"
"Y-Yes." His palm is pressed against the thigh of your jeans for his own comfort, unused to being manhandled in such an open position.
"Do you think you can come again?"
"Yes."
"Want it hard?"
"Yes."
"See? Not so hard to agree with me."
"None of that is agreeing," he says in disbelief. "Those are yes-no questions. How did you even graduate from high school? Hey—!"
You shove your cock between his thighs, the hot tip gliding against his balls and settling against his base. You have both of his legs in one arm and you kiss his milky calf teasingly as you lean forward, gently fucking your cock into the space between his thighs. He's slim enough that a good portion of your dick peeks out from the top of his thighs, rubbing against his tight balls.
"D-Don't you dare come from this," he huffs, staring down at your thick cockhead as it pushes past his creamy thighs and slicks up the inner sides with pre. "I didn't tell you to come over just to have you bust like this. I want it inside."
"So demanding," you say impishly, rutting into him. "But alright. I like to spoil my princess."
He hums, ignoring the way his thighs twitch each time you rub up against them. He's still a little shaky from his high. "Good."
You lean down, making his breath hitch as you test his flexibility, and kiss his neck. You tug a pillow down for him. "Love you."
"I know, you big sap," he says, but there's less bite in it than usual. The corner of his mouth even curves up.
He sinks into the pillow below his head as you thrust into his thighs, eyes fluttering shut with a soft, preparing sigh. Your precome makes the glide smooth, and you press his pale thighs together. You pull away and tilt the head of your cock further down, pressing it to his tight hole. Gently, you push in.
Megumi's expression tightens and his body rolls and flexes, fingers twisting in the pillow. You soothe him with sweet words, and he nods in agreement, relaxing as best he can.
"Good, Megumi," you murmur, watching as he relaxes enough to fit a couple more inches. He flinches when your hot touch traces his cock. "Doing so well, baby. Just like that."
He lets out a shaky noise, nodding. He makes an aborted motion to brush his chest and you take note, reaching up with your spare hand to circle his nipple. He arches into your touch, his slick gummy insides rippling against your cock. You groan softly as he blushes dark, the sensitivities of his own body betraying him.
"S-Sorry," he whispers, his tight walls massaging your cock as you rock shallowly back and forth. "You're – big. Ah, hnn..."
"Nothing to forgive, baby. Tell me to pull out and I will, yeah?" You laugh softly despite yourself, squeezing the side of his thigh. "Stretching my little boyfriend... Kinda an ego boost. Nobody else can make you feel like this, right?"
"I've – hah – never had anybody else, you ass," he breathes, and you know he intends it to sound a little mean, a little disparaging, but he's so flushed and his voice trembles in the middle, and it's just cute. His fingers twitch before curling into balls, tugging at the pillow corners.
Your cock sinks in a little deeper. "Mmhm – my pretty little virgin. Takes cock like a champ, though, doesn't he? Such a good boy for me," you purr, distracting him with your words while you coat your cock in an extra smear of lube. You push back in and he lets out a sound startlingly close to a mewl, eyes rolling back briefly as your hips meet his ass.
"F-Fuck," he pants, open-mouthed. He looks and sounds absolutely wrecked, his hole scraping your shaft with each thrust. "So deep – ohh, fuck me, fuck me, c'mon—"
Your jeans zipper presses into his ass as you grind into him. Something about you being half-dressed makes his stomach flutter. Is it because it feels needy, like you couldn't even wait to undress him properly before taking him as yours? He gnaws on the inside of his cheek to keep back the dangerous noise that threatens to bubble out of him.
"You're so pretty when you're being fucked open," you chuckle, making him gasp. "Got a face like a model, body like a porn star... This tight little hole takes me so well, doesn't it? Stretches you nice and full. Drives me crazy, watching all this dick vanish inside you like that," you hum, huffing a laugh. "Like, where does it all go? Not all in my sweet little boyfriend, surely."
"I-Idiot," he gasps, covering his mouth to muffle his moan. "You're being so – so dramatic."
Humming thoughtfully, you lean forward, pushing his slim legs higher. His wet warmth hugs your cock tight, a slick little sleeve for you to enjoy. "Am I?"
You draw your hips back until only the tip rests inside him, then snap your hips forward and sink your entire length into him. He gawps, a few little gemstone tears glittering at the corners of his dark green eyes, and he scrabbles at your hips, fingernails catching in your belt loops and pockets but never really sticking. He lets out his first real moan of the night, sharp and breathy.
"Hnnnh..." He whimpers, eyes dazed as he gazes up at you. His throat bobs and his hair bounces as you fuck him with quick, deep strokes, dragging past his hot, swollen prostate with each thrust.
In a fit of desperation, he pulls at his own asscheeks, spreading himself open and begging wordlessly for more. It's hard to keep himself open with the lube making everything slick and warm, and he ends up clawing at himself as he pants, mewling softly as you tug his body down into yours and fuck him harder. Your skin slaps wetly, loud and lewd.
His cock throbs, twitching where it leaks a pool of pre onto his belly. "C-Close, 'm close," he keens, unable to bring himself to care about the degenerate way he's acting. Your cock knocks the breath out of his lungs, and he loves the way the rough denim of your jeans rubs his ass raw with every rolling grind. His fingers dig into the meat of his ass. "I – ah, hah – close – babe—"
"Yeah, me too," you huff, embarrassingly into the sight and sound of him falling apart. His asshole squelches as you fuck into him harder, rocking the mattress dangerously, and you brace against the bed, pinning his legs to your shoulder when they start to jolt and kick. His feet bob in the air and he greedily drinks in the way sweat shines on your skin and gathers in the dips of your muscles.
You're just so big. You're the close-up brawler to Megumi's ranged attacks, and you've been fighting side-by-side for so long that Megumi's rustier than he should be when it comes to serious threats shoving themselves in his face. It's so much easier to let you at 'em – and a lot more fun to watch you come trotting back to him to have the blood wiped off for you.
He feels so fucking tiny under you like this, gone dumb on your thick cock pounding him into the mattress. He can't get enough.
He comes first, barely about to stutter out your name before his orgasm slams into him, knocking the thoughts out of his head as he feels a sudden warmth flood his guts. His silky, gummy insides ripple and tighten, milking your cock with every aching hot throb, and you groan lowly, fucking him slow and deep through the sea of pleasure.
When you pull out, his hole clenches – and doesn't close. Thick white come dribbles down his ass, pooling around his twitching hips. The sight's enough to reignite the flame in your lower stomach.
You set Megumi's legs down as quickly and gently as you can, before rolling him over onto his stomach and tugging his hips up towards you. He gasps, barely about to get out a questioning huff before you're slamming back into him, fucking the come back into his hole.
He cries out – and immediately slaps a hand over his mouth. His dark hair bounces as he jolts back and forth on your cock, his ass slapping against your hips.
How are you already hard? Sorcerer things, he supposes faintly, because his own cock is filling again. His sticky insides feel so good and sore, perfectly shaped to take your dick, and he clamps both hands over his mouth, falling forward onto the bed. The angle slants his hips up and you crush his prostate on the first thrust, making his toes curl and an embarrassing high-pitched noise to slip out between his fingers.
"Fuck, baby," you whisper, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away. You shift your grip to his upper arms and fold them back, using them as leverage to fuck into Megumi's quivering, dripping hole. "Wanna hear you. There we go. Be nice and loud f'me."
He shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut, as you tug his body backwards onto your lap, letting him feel your hot, pulsing cock resting against his walls. Fuck. The way he's forced to move with you when you do makes him weak in the knees. Good thing you're holding him up.
"Me-gu-mi," you tease, shifting your grasp on his arms. You fuck him lazily, strokes long and slow, and by the way his sigh quivers and his head droops, you know it's not what he wants. "I won't let you come before I hear your lovely voice."
The lean muscles of his shoulders and back flex as he tests the grip you have on him. Broad shoulders, little waist – a proper pretty boy. "H-Hurry up. Gojo might return soon."
"So?"
His head snaps back, a glare harsh on his flushed features. "Don't 'so?' me. Hurry the hell up or you're doing the walk of shame back to yours. Alone."
"You're so mean," you say breathily, grinning. "Love that about you."
He clicks his tongue. His dripping cock is aching to be attended to. "Yeah, well – shit!"
His cry is unobstructed and wonderfully clear. You lean down, taking a peek at his face, and it's almost enough to make you come on the spot. His swollen lips are parted, his blush dark and high on his sharp cheekbones, and his hair sticks to his temples. His eyes flicker towards you, his absurdly long lashes fluttering. His chest heaves.
"Th-That's a dirty trick," he stutters, chancing a glance down. His eyes squeeze shut as his throat bobs harshly.
You tease, "Like magic, huh?" You roll your hips forward in such a way that it has Megumi's chest constricting, as if halfway to tears. A bump protrudes from his flat stomach, a sight made even more obvious when he inhales, his panting breaths shallow but heavy as if he's run a marathon.
You lean back with a chuckle and set a hard, steady pace. Megumi tenses, legs shuffling weakly beneath himself, and can't swallow the embarrassed little sounds that slip out between his clenched teeth. Strings of those noises escape him and his fingers flex, balling into fists. He'll take his dignity to his grave if he must.
Well, that's your purpose, isn't it? To bring him to his little deaths?
"You feel real good like this, baby," you croon, voice low and sweet. He shudders, swallowing roughly, as your cock pistons in and out of his abused hole. Damn it – he can feel the filthy mix of lube and your come dripping down his thigh with each clap of your hips against his ass. "And you're so sensitive, aren't you? My cock hits all the good spots in you, doesn't it, nice 'n' deep... Doesn't it make you wanna let go?"
"I-It's – hah – It's humiliating," he hisses, even though he knows you're right. It's the same story that always goes like this: him refusing, him struggling, him getting devoured by his own lust and submitting like a crashing plane submitting to gravity.
"No, it's cute." You pound into him, merciless and unforgiving as you chase your high.
There's something addicting about being used like this, held in place like he weighs nothing to you. You fuck him like a toy, his come-slick insides gooey and hot, and it can't be his fault when he comes if he can't get away from you, can it? It can't be embarrassing when it's not his fault, and if half the pleasure comes from submitting, then that's not his fault, either.
You're mean. You're making him like this.
A soft, breathy moan escapes into the air.
At the sound of it, your grin takes on a dangerous edge. Megumi's ass is red and tender, the steel rivets of your jeans and the stiff zipper making him twitch and shudder as they scrape against his skin. Your hips quicken, the headboard rocking alarmingly close to the wall, and his mattress creaks as you yank him back to meet you halfway.
His pitiful cock swings between his thighs, dark red and throbbing. It looks painful. You have half a mind to relieve him – but he's so pretty when he comes untouched, and you must have a masochistic streak in you because watching him struggle and come from the smallest bit of friction pleases you like nothing else. His dick pulses with a spurt of clear pre and he inhales with a shaky whine, squeaking quietly and stiffening when you tug his arms further back, making the arch in his spine more pronounced.
His hips jerk. Every time his cock smacks his thigh he moans, warm wet insides rolling as he heaves around you. The bulge in his belly appears and disappears with your thrusts and Megumi's head is foggy. He scrabbles slightly in place, half of him wanting to run away while the other half can't get enough. Unable to choose a side, he can only kneel there, pierced on your cock, and sob out a wet whimper.
The sound is music to your ears. His gasps are whinier, more involved, and you can tell his control is slipping. He no longer gnaws on the inside of his lip to keep himself silent.
Arousal curls hot in your lower stomach. You cock throbs, leaking inside him, and he heaves out a shuddering moan, tilting his head back as his slippery walls squelch around you. His tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. He aches.
Megumi whimpers and barely has time to open his mouth. "C-Close—"
His expression tightens. His eyes roll back.
He seizes. Pleasure slams into him like a tidal wave. He lets out the sweetest whines as his hips twitch and he thrusts against air, creamy white come splattering his stomach in thick ropes.
His sudden vice-tight heat yanks you over the edge with him, surprising you. You gasp and groan as he keens, stuttering incoherently as his puffy hole milks your cock as if it was made for it. Your fingers tighten around his arms, your cock slamming deep inside him and flooding his stomach, and he has no strength to do anything but quiver and moan, hips still jolting erratically as come dribbles down his shaft and balls.
You tug him into your chest, hooking your chin over his shoulder and grinding into him as he rides out his high. You watch him with soft eyes, panting softly, as his hips slow. Eventually, he slumps against you, chest rising and falling breathlessly. A hand curls around the back of your neck and remains there, warm and shaky.
"Damn," he whispers, finally. Your cock twitches, the aftershocks of your high still buzzing along your nerves, and he lets out a deep exhale as the clarity sets in. "That was..."
"Good?" you offer, one big hand splayed gently across his chest. He nods, closing his eyes, and lets his head fall against your shoulder.
He licks his lips. "Grab me a glass, too, please."
"So presumptuous," you murmur, kissing his neck. You wrap a hand around his thigh, lifting him off your lap. He winces slightly, messy hole clamping around nothing, and sinks forward into his sheets, content and boneless. "Lemme clean you up first, yeah?"
"Yeah," he murmurs, burying his face into his pillows with closed eyes. He runs a hand through his hair and hums sleepily. "Thanks, sweetheart."
The pet name feels soft and warm falling from his lips. You kiss his shoulder again before dragging yourself reluctantly out of bed, and your fingers trail down the length of his arm as you pull away. He shifts his hand to let your touch linger as long as it can.
Clean-up is quiet. He's acquiescent, allowing you to manoeuvre his body how you need to. Sometimes you think he's fallen asleep, but then he'll shift to make it easier for you. Your Megumi was never so selfish as to leave you without some pillow talk.
"You know," you begin, breaking the silence, "I may have gotten too impatient."
"How so?"
"I didn't bring a spare set of clothes, and, well..." You gesture vaguely down at your stained jeans. "Oops, right?"
Megumi stares. He turns away and chuckles, nestling into his pillows. "You can steal some of mine while you wash yours. Whatever fits. You can grab your clothes in the morning."
You press a kiss to the back of his neck, making him laugh softly at the tickling feeling. "Ooh, I love a good sleepover. Thanks so much, Megumi."
He hums in response, and if he peeks while you strip and search his closet for his baggiest casual pieces, no one will ever know.
Later, Megumi watches from his place atop the kitchen counter as you pour two glasses of orange juice. His legs swing lazily off the edge, and he accepts the offered glass when you turn around. He downs half the thing in one go, exhaling afterwards in something like relief. You lift a brow, amusement tugging at your lips.
"What?" he mutters, shoving your shoulder as his cheeks glow pink. "You're tiring."
Your smile grows cocky as you fold your arms over your chest, raising the glass to your lips. "Nothing. I'm just... learning things."
"Oh, fuck off," he scoffs, sipping his glass at a more considered, moderate pace. His gaze follows you as you slip between his thighs, one of your hands resting on his thigh. "You already know what you do to me. You haven't learnt a thing tonight."
"I'm always learning about you," you say with mock seriousness, lifting a finger. The movement bunches up the sleeve of the navy zip-up hoodie around your bicep, straining ever-so-slightly – your voice brings Megumi back to the topic at hand.
"For example," you're saying, "you still have the tickets from our first date, which is downright adorable."
"You don't?"
"Not pinned up like you have do. I don't want them to fade, so they're very carefully tucked into an old notebook – from the same year we got together, of course." You tap your chin. "Doesn't Gojo tease you about it?"
"Given that he's been banned from my bedroom since I was fifteen, no, he doesn't." He presses his thumb and forefinger to his forehead, making a face. He ruffles his hair. "I really need to get on with the whole 'finding my own place' thing. We're just so central with this apartment, and honestly, with the way Gojo reacted when Tsumiki moved out for university, I'm not sure he won't just cry when I leave."
"Aw. You really care for him." You pinch his cheek. He pouts, pushing your hand away.
"Stop it. I want more juice."
He hands you his glass. You roll your eyes fondly, grinning as you reach over and grab the carton. You step closer, hooking your chin over his shoulder, and fill both glasses behind his back. He presses his cheek against your collarbone, one arm draped over your shoulders.
"We could always move in together," you offer. "You did mention it once or twice."
"Hm. I guess so."
"Why do you sound so surprised? You brought it up first."
"I dunno. Guess it feels like a big step. Feels a lot more weighty when it's not just a passing thought."
"We'll think about it some more. Honestly, with how you were acting earlier, I'm shocked that you're still awake," you tease, passing him his juice. "Maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and go, what the shit, that was a terrible post-sex idea, and clutch your head with second-hand embarrassment."
He huffs and levels you with a look. "It can't be that terrible. Rent is expensive. Roommates are always viable. We just have the option of sharing a bed – and that means more fun-money for plants."
Just as you set the carton aside, the front door beeps and clicks open. Megumi freezes and can't get away fast enough.
He locks eyes with that stupid black blindfold.
A wide, smug smile creeps over Satoru's face. He knocks the front door shut with a kick of his heel, and he practically skips out of his shoes.
"Well, well, well! What do we have here?" he drawls, a sizeable white bag hanging from his fingers. In his other hand is a soda drink with a colourful print on the sleeve. He gestures broadly with the cup. "YN! Haven't seen you in years! How've you been, huh? You know, if I didn't know that I was your absolute favourite teacher, it'd feel like you've been avoiding me. All your messages come through Ijichi! You can't spare a few minutes to pop by my office?"
He pouts, waiting expectantly with a hand on his hip. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.
"Uh," you say intelligently. You are suddenly aware that your shorts sit several centimetres too high to be reasonably called 'basketball shorts' any longer.
Megumi clears his throat, moving you aside to hop down from the counter. He stands in front of you, which gives you a few precious seconds to pull the sides of the zip-up hoodie closed over your bare chest.
"You're back early," he says, in lieu of anything else.
"I mean, it is—" he flicks his wrist and glances down "—two in the morning. Speaking of – you boys should be in bed. One of you, at least. I can't control kids who aren't my own!" He laughs to himself.
"Keep calling me a kid and I'll treat you like an old man, gramps," Megumi threatens. "Got the hair and humour for it, too."
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Satoru replies breezily, tugging off his blindfold and wrapping it around his wrist the same way a girl would with hair ties. He steps forward, dumping his bag on the end of the counter and taking a loud sip from his drink. "You're just jelly that my hair does what I tell it to. Mm – actually, now that I think about it, I've got something else to say."
He takes three long strides forward and pushes Megumi aside to stare you down. You start, staring at him with wide eyes.
"Gojo," Megumi hisses, but goes ignored.
"Now, I can excuse bullying Megumi for his stick-in-the-mud personality, but I draw the line very firmly at breaking his heart." He stares up at you with a tilted head, blue eyes half-lidded and leisurely as he flicks his finger against your chest. It's a motion that looks frighteningly familiar, and you almost step back as he moves further into your space. His Infinity presses lightly against your skin, crackling with power, and you can see the slight shimmer of it pulsing from him. Despite the ease he uses it with, it feels as heavy as lead.
"Gojo, stop – I'm not a child."
"While I do feel a teeny bit insulted that Megumi would hide this," he gestures between the two of you, "from me, I get it. I mean, who's good enough for my itty bitty Megumi? Not a lot of people, I assure you. Most people are dicks. And when I kill things for a living, I could see how that'd make a kid nervous. Need I remind you of how good I am at my job?"
"No, sir," you squeak.
"Great. And, being that you were one of my students, I shouldn't have to mention just how much pain I can dish out."
"That's right, sir."
"Nor will I have to remind you of what happens when I do a little..." He flutters his fingers, mimicking a magician's flourish, and forms a tiny ball of Purple at the tips of his fingers. The pale glow illuminates his face from below.
His eyes bore into your skull. The air is sucked out of your lungs.
"Gojo!" Megumi yanks Satoru's arm down, dispersing his technique, and shoves himself between your bodies. He glares at him. "What is wrong with you? I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm far too old for you to be playing 'protective dad' over. Legally, I could volunteer for the military, kill a man, and drink myself to death tomorrow if I so wanted. I should be allowed to choose my own partners."
Satoru eyes you for a moment longer, then glances down at Megumi and his whole look changes. He deactivates his Infinity, the air around you becoming ten times lighter, and pouts, ruffling Megumi's hair – Megumi grimaces.
"You are! I'm just exercising my right to do some light boyfriend-threatening," he whines. "I've always wanted to do that! And you know I wouldn't actually atomise you, don't you, YN? You're my favourite ex-student!"
"R-Right, sir..."
"I mean, I would still hunt you down like a dog if you ever hurt Megumi, but I'd make it quick!"
"Gojo," Megumi groans. "Please leave us alone."
Playfully, Satoru salutes, winking knowingly at Megumi. "Gotcha. Boyfriend stuff, right? I'll leave you two lovebirds alone, now." He skips away, waving a hand over his shoulder at the bag of snacks on the counter. "Have a peek, take what you want! Mostly, I went out for a walk. I just liked the colours of the packaging. Cheerio, kids!"
As he vanishes into his room and closes the door, Megumi sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. He turns to you, grabbing your hand. "Sorry... Maybe we should've just stayed in my room. Are you alright?"
"I'm, uh, not gonna lie," you chuckle nervously. "I wasn't expecting..." You flick your fingers.
He purses his lips, squeezing your hand. "Neither was I. He got serious with this, of all things? Ridiculous."
You wrap your arms around him – because having a black hole pressed against your throat was terrifying – and he rests his arms over your shoulders comfortably. You bury your nose in his hair and mumble, "You're the one running over to my place next time."
synopsis : the sweet ejiro kirishima takes you out on a winter packed day.. as friends, of course. | drabble + 𝟑oo
frosty flakes twinkled against the skyscrapers, giggling highschoolers scattered around the pavement while children playfully ran away from their parents.
after hearing a rare snow fall was dusting the city of musutafu, your best friend— kirishima insisted of organising a snowy day for the both of you.
he sighed contently as he stuffed his hands back into the warmth of his thick pockets, eyes fluttering shut as he thought about the day ahead. trying new foods, watching the anticipated illumination show, confessing feelings—
the red head stilled, his cheeks bursting aflame.
confessing feelings? he pouted, sharp red brows furrowing.
no, ejiro kirishima wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly fun day by being reticent.
“kiri loo—”! you turned, pausing as you noticed the missing redhead. “hm.. why’d you stop?” you questioned, tilting your head.
“oh! -aha- sorry! it’s nothing! sorry!..” he quickly jogged up to you, rubbing his neck bashfully.
you raised a brow, “right.. anyway! look—” you pointed excitedly towards the soft fairy lights loop and illuminate the stride of market booths in-front of you.
fragrance of warm treats danced into your nose and low christmas music slowly filled your ears as stalls and decorations came into view. “woah… super manly!” he grinned, punching an arm up into the air.
“super!” you chimed, giggling and quickly grabbing his resting arm, dragging him towards a chocolate stand. kirishima coughed at the sudden contact, his face flushing a vibrant rosy red.
he was thankful it was freezing and snowing, otherwise he’d have no clue on how to explain the fuzzy feeling that seeped from his cheeks to chest and the tips of his chilly finger tips.
“ah! I’m stuffed!” you sulked, chewing the last bite of your strawberry shortcake.
kirishima nodded, “it’s so good…super manly” he mumbled in a dazed manner fake crying as he rubbed his stomach.
the pathway was emptier than it was before as you both reached the light show, structures of animals and cartoon characters glowed softly against your gleaming eyes. “look at that deer it’s so cute! oh my god!— how’d they do that?”you wondered, pulling your phone out to take a picture.
kirishima stared at your excited face, watching as your cheeks stretched into a wide smile as you snapped a picture.
cute. he quickly snapped his head forehead as you turned to look at him, pointing out another display.
after admiring the luminous walk, you and kirishima found a hidden viewpoint— a banister with slightly eroded black paint sat on the edge. “shizuoka is.. really pretty at night..” you hummed, staring at the small blinking lights of the awake city, resting your elbows against the cool metal.
kirishima stared at your side profile, a breathless sigh leaving his lips which appeared in an unnoticeable cloud of smoke. the way your hair glowed and your eyes were lidded— lashes casting a smooth blanket over them as the city lights glimmered within them, lips parted as you smiled softly.
kirishima barely remembered any of the glowing structures from before as your velvety smile challenged their beauty greatly, his crush on you was something the redhead savoured deeply and quietly— only realising his unannounced love when bakugo nudged him and told him to ‘stop looking like a lovestruck loser.’
“kirishima? hey- kirishima! hello?..” you drawled on, shaking the ditzy boy happily.
“huh? oh! sorry! spaced out a bit huh?” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassment crawling up.
“..you okay? are you tired?! we could go back if you want..?”
no quickly shook his head, “nah! don’t worry! the foods just getting to me!”
you raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, “well— if your sure..”
“I said…” you giggled, “could you take a picture for me? with my digital camera! I look way better in them.”
he typically relaxed kirishima stiffly nodded, stepping backwards as he held your camera— placing it to his eyes. you giggled as you held up a simple peace sign, smiling brightly in the camera. “just press button at the top!”
kirishimas lips parted, the camera slowly lowered from his face as he stared limply at your figure.
you tiled your head, “hm? kiri? whats wrong?”
he dryly chuckled, “nothing, you look manly.. by the way.”
a shy grin etched upon your lips, “oh.. thanks!”
kirishima could wait another day to tell you, if it meant this one would be one perfect.
tysm to @snore-3 for requesting this !! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜ hope you enjoyed !!
i had the most unhinged thought and raced to your inbox because i need this demon expelled from my body asap. hawks coming home from the worst day of patrol, everything went wrong and he had to speak up at a press conference, play the part of perfect, and all he wants is to melt into your touch. you can see it in his eyes, the dark circles, and the weary tilt of his smile. "baby bird," his voice is hoarse, "need you to hurt me tonight," so he can finally unravel. you're the only one he wants to be perfect for. okay goodbyeee 💀
𝐔𝐍𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐕𝐀𝐒
Pairing: Masochist! Hawks x Gn! Sadist! Reader
CW: face slapping, lots of blood, cock stepping, kicking, bruising, cock slapping, heavy degration, loss of air, mean reader, tons and tons of tears, scratching, mouth spitting, no mention of safe word but keep in mind it is there !!!
A/N: anon im sorry i totally changed ur thing, i just saw masochist hawks and sprinted. the demons wrote this, not me. dont look at me everyone. HEED THE TAGS
it was a way to blow off steam. something that he looks forward to, just some time where he doesn't have to think anymore. only feeling he has the stinging sensations and the tears that prick his eyes. it was an embaressing obsession he had. he loved pain.
Keigo walks to the bedroom, his hero costume tattered, and dark circles under his eyes. he is exhausted, but coming to you for your touch. pulling you close to him, and mumbling into your neck how bad he wants you to hurt him. till he bruises and bleeds. till every thought just disappears except for you.
and so you pull away, and slap him. it makes him tumble backward, and his yellow glasses fall off. he touches the tingling feeling on his face, blood spilling out from the skin caught on your wedding ring. you dont let up, sending another loud smack across his face, and this time he does fall to the ground, landing on his ass.
tears prick at his eyes, and he can feel his lip tear open. the taste of blood coats his mouth and he gulps, looking up at you for more.
he feels your foot jab onto his clothed cock and he keens, wincing up at you. "w-wait," he stutters, throwing his head back when your press even harder. "fuck!"
"wait? you want me to wait? after you begged for it like a dog?" he is squirming under you, tears now streaming down his face as you dig your foot into his pants.
"'m sorry. sorry—you are going to kill me!" he pleads, hands trying to dig themself into the carpet to fight back against the pain.
you sigh, and let up, instead using your foot to push at his chest, causing him to fall over and onto his back. "take off your clothes, Keigo," you mumble, taking a seat on the bed with crossed legs and staring down at him.
"okay. okay. I will. Just give me a minute!" he pants, tearing off his jacket and shirt as fast as he can. he knows something is coming, you werent playing nice.
you dont give him enough time, he reaches for his pants, and without hesitation you slam your foot into his stomach. he goes tumbling backwards and lands on his side, curling into a ball and panting. his eyes are wide and he is gripping onto his adomen. it surely will leave a huge bruise tomorrow. but thats not what he is worried about, he cant breathe.
"awww, did you get the wind knocked out of you? that's what happens when you move too slow," you tease, as you take in his appearance. he trembles in front of you, looking up at you in fear. tears drip down his cheeks and onto the ground, as he tries and fails to catch his breath.
you giggle at him, padding over to him. he flinches at the footsteps, bracing himself for another kick, but you just begin to unbutton his pants, pulling them down. "useless thing, arent you. cant follow any directions," you coo, now tearing off his boxers.
his cock springs out, tip red and leaking pre cum. "such a pervert! you sick fuck, keigo. who gets hard from getting beat?" you land another slap to his thigh, and his whole body jerks.
you smile at the red handprint, glancing back at him to see him beginning to drool. its coated red from the blood from his cheek and lip. he's is still heaving from the kick, eyes wide, and body gasping for oxygen.
"say Hawks do you get turned on when you are losing against villains? pop a boner like a freak for anyone who hits you?"
his eyes flash to you and he is shaking his head desperately. his words are breathless, "no. no. 'm not a freak!"
a quick, but harsh slap to his cock. he jumps again, globs of tears falling quicker. "fuckkkkk," he whimpers, shaking his head back and forth. his whole body shakes, and fingers dig into his own skin.
"you liar! do you want to be kicked again?"
"no no no no. im sorry. im sorry! im a freak. a pervert who likes to get hit. im sorry," he sobs, reaching for your ankle for comfort. you slap it away and he hisses, rubbing the back of it with a sniffle.
but you smile at him and lean over to sit on his chest. his head is still lolled to the side and his body racks with sobs. "shhhhhhh. so whiny Keigo. thanks for admitting it. my disgusting pervert. here, a reward."
you grab his face, hard enough to bruise, and force him to look up at you. his eyes are half shut in a wince, but he tries to force them open to look at you. you pry his mouth open, lean forward, and drop a glob of spit into his mouth.
he doesnt hesitate to swallow it, opening his mouth up again and sticking his tongue out to show you its gone. "th-thank you," he whimpers, and you smile fondly at him.
you hands trail up and down his down his body, sending vicicoius red raised scratchmarks along his pretty skin. "now, pervert....what should we do to this pretty canvas?"
he grins up at you, tears still dripping, and blood staining his cheeks and lips, but still stars in his eyes. "anything."
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