What is wrong with being obsessed with an ass, right?
Bakugo physically cannot sleep unless he is completely glued to your backside. Even when he’s dead tired, he’ll violently yank you back-first against his bare chest, his large hands clamping onto your waist to pull your ass flush against his lap. His thick, heavy length is always semi-hard and nestled perfectly between your cheeks, throbbing lazily against you all night.
ugh!!! if you try to shift away because his body heat is boiling you, he completely loses it. Even half-asleep, his grip will tighten like an iron vise, and he'll let out a low, warning growl as he shoves his face directly into the valley of your ass. He literally buries his nose and mouth right against your bare skin, inhaling your scent from right there just to quiet his brain down enough to sleep.
Waking up is the most feral part because his morning wood is absolutely brutal. You’ll wake up to him already rock-hard and slick, deliberately grinding his heavy weight right against your dripping heat from behind. Before you can even open your eyes, his hand will shove your face into the pillow, his voice a ruined, sleepy rasp against your neck: "Don't fucking move—you're taking it right now," before he drives himself completely home.
cw: smut, perv!izuku, fem!reader, mutual masturbation (kinda? idk im kinda slow), college au, roommates. lmk if i missed anything :)
a/n: i recently finished mha so bare with me, i will be writing alot about the boys, i miss them so bad fml :/
𖤓 Izuku was losing his mind. He never expected college would torture him like this– forcing him to live with you. The sweetest, most oblivious little tease he’d ever met.
His hand moved slowly up and down his thick cock, thumb smearing the steady leak of precum over the flushed head. A low, shaky breath left his lips as he leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, sweatpants bunched around his thighs.
Through the thin wall separating your rooms, he could hear you.
Soft, frustrated whines. The wet, filthy sound of your fingers desperately pumping into your pussy. You sounded so close to tears, like you’d cry if you couldn’t cum soon.
“Fuck…” he whispered, tightening his grip.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be jerking off to the sound of his roommate touching herself. But how could he stop? Not when you pranced around the dorm in those tiny sleep shorts that barely covered your ass. Not when your nipples poked through those thin tops every morning. Not when you got drunk and crawled into his lap, whining about how much you missed him, only to act like nothing happened when you sobered up.
His hand moved faster, the slick fap fap fap growing louder as he imagined you spread open on your bed, fingers buried deep inside that pretty cunt.
Then he heard it.
A broken little whimper of his name.
“Izuku…”
His hips jerked hard as thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist, painting his abs and chest. He bit down on his lip to keep from groaning your name loud enough for you to hear.
cw: smut, perv!izuku, fem!reader, mutual masturbation (kinda? idk im kinda slow), college au, roommates. lmk if i missed anything :)
a/n: i recently finished mha so bare with me, i will be writing alot about the boys, i miss them so bad fml :/
𖤓 Izuku was losing his mind. He never expected college would torture him like this– forcing him to live with you. The sweetest, most oblivious little tease he’d ever met.
His hand moved slowly up and down his thick cock, thumb smearing the steady leak of precum over the flushed head. A low, shaky breath left his lips as he leaned back against the headboard, eyes squeezed shut, sweatpants bunched around his thighs.
Through the thin wall separating your rooms, he could hear you.
Soft, frustrated whines. The wet, filthy sound of your fingers desperately pumping into your pussy. You sounded so close to tears, like you’d cry if you couldn’t cum soon.
“Fuck…” he whispered, tightening his grip.
He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be jerking off to the sound of his roommate touching herself. But how could he stop? Not when you pranced around the dorm in those tiny sleep shorts that barely covered your ass. Not when your nipples poked through those thin tops every morning. Not when you got drunk and crawled into his lap, whining about how much you missed him, only to act like nothing happened when you sobered up.
His hand moved faster, the slick fap fap fap growing louder as he imagined you spread open on your bed, fingers buried deep inside that pretty cunt.
Then he heard it.
A broken little whimper of his name.
“Izuku…”
His hips jerked hard as thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist, painting his abs and chest. He bit down on his lip to keep from groaning your name loud enough for you to hear.
cw: smut, bakudeku x sub!reader, fem!reader, softdom!izuku, harddom!bakugo, dacryphilia, overstim, fingering, spanking, cunnilingus. lmk if i forgot anything :)
a/n: this is my first drabble, lmk if you fw it ;)
𖤓 It wasn’t planned to end up between your two boyfriends on a Saturday night, getting fucked dumb. To be fair, none of this was really your fault. They always told you that you could have anything you wanted, so of course you bought the cutest pair of heels after they already told you no.
That’s how you ended up here, back against Katsuki’s chest while his fingers tugged and pinched at your puffy nipples.
“I-I said I’m sorry,” you whined, feeling him press open-mouthed kisses to your neck as Izuku’s fingers pumped deep into your soaked pussy.
They’d kept you like this for over thirty minutes, refusing to let you cum, the expensive heels still on your feet.
“So messy already,” Izuku murmured, voice soft but firm. “You really want to cum that bad, pretty girl?”
Your hips jerked when he curled his fingers just right. “Yes! p-please, zuku-”
Katsuki’s hand suddenly came down in a sharp slap against your clit, making you cry out.
“Too bad,” he growled. “You don’t get to cum just ‘cause you’re beggin’.”
Izuku kept his pace steady for a moment before he leaned down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. His tongue dragged through your folds before latching onto your swollen clit, sucking gently.
“F-Fuck—! I-I can’t, it’s too much! hic- g’na cum, zuku please!” Fat globs of tears run down your cheeks, bottom lip trembling.
Katsuki gripped your face, forcing you to look at him. “No the fuck you’re not. Brats don’t get to cum.” His tongue laps up your tears with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat.
Izuku pulled back just enough to speak, his voice still soft even as his breath fanned over your clit. “Just a little more, pretty girl. You can take it.”
Your thighs shook as you tried to squirm away, tears brimming in your eyes. “Can’t- s’too much, please-!”
Katsuki slapped your clit again, harsher this time. “Stop whining. You’re not cumming until we say so.”
izuku midoriya starts tearing up as soon as his cockhead pushes into your gummy walls.
his body shudders as he threatens to collapse on top of you. various pleas and whines escape his mouth, your name on his tongue like a prayer.
“please, oh fuck— you’re so tight for me”
“you’re so so perfect, my love”
“please! god, you’re so beautiful”
he doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. but he knows he’s pleading for you.
and that’s all he can think about.
izuku’s hair falls in front of his eyes like a curtain, but his lovesick haze can’t be hidden behind the strands.
his hand grip yours tightly as he thrusts his tip in and out of your pretty hole. it’s too much for him, his dripping mushroom tip leaks and dribbles into and around your cunt as proof.
his free hand slides down your body, caressing your breasts and lingering along your tummy. finally, it reaches its home between your thighs. izuku’s thumb rubs sloppy circles around your clit, as he shakes from pleasure.
his forehead drops to meet yours as fat tears squeeze themselves out of his eyes and onto your cheeks.
“can i? oh please, baby, can i?” izuku babbles.
he’s trying to take it slow, to tease you even more with his painfully hard erection, but he was fraying at the edges. every choked out call of your name begged you to let him sink into you.
once you let him, izuku was eager to push the rest of himself into your warm pussy. his balls hit against you, heavy and aching.
his thrusts quickly transformed from slow and cautious to sporadic and desperate. every moan floated above the squelches of your pussy sucking him in and the slap of skin against skin.
his thumb that circled your puffy clit began stuttering, as did izuku’s hips. he was shaking, face buried into your neck because everything was too much to handle.
“please, baby. fuck, i need you! cum with me, please!” he cried, hot tears falling against your skin.
your pussy clenched around him deliciously, and he was a goner. izuku sobbed into your neck while he emptied himself into your fluttery cunt, hot and filling.
as you came, he kept humping you desperately, his sensitive cock dragging along your sloppy walls.
izuku didn’t bother to pull out as he kissed up your neck to the spot below your ear.
❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki’s car is strictly spotless, but when Y/N is a soaking mess—it's the only mess he’s more than happy to let his wife leave on the leather.
Katsuki’s car was perfectly maintained, smelling of rich leather and his signature cologne with every inch of the interior kept in perfect condition.
Anyone else in his car got an earful about not leaving a single piece of trash behind.
Katsuki rarely let Y/N touch her own car keys, insisting on driving her himself whenever she needed to go anywhere.
He steered effortlessly with one hand while the other rested on her thigh, his wedding band glinting under every passing streetlamp.
He kept his eyes on the road but sensed her stare, catching her lingering gaze that had been stuck on him since they left the restaurant.
"Got somethin' to say?" He asked, his thumb pressing firmly into her thigh. "What's goin' on in that head of yours?"
She didn’t answer immediately, the heavy tension in the car making her breath hitch as she covered his hand with her own, staring at his fingers while her body heated up.
"Just thinking.." She finally whispered. The warmth from his hand that drifted closer to her inner thigh made her anticipation to get home stronger than ever—she wanted the comfort of their home, but the wait was turning into an ache. "How much longer?"
Katsuki glanced at the dashboard. "Forty-five minutes."
He heard her soft sigh as he slowed down for a red light, before turning his head to find her watching him with heavy eyes that told him everything.
"If you keep looking at me like that, we aren't making it past the next block."
Before the engine even cooled, the windows were already clouding over with fog.
Katsuki was pulling her in close and hoisting her legs up until they were hooked firmly over his shoulders.
Space was limited, but he didn't let that slow him down—he snapped his hips forward, each thrust pressing her deeper into the cool leather.
"You like that?" Katsuki growled, his gaze locked onto hers—refusing to let her look away. "This is exactly what you've been craving all damn night."
There wasn’t a single inch of air left between them. He slammed back into her, a deep thrust that tore a desperate moan from her throat.
"That's it.." He hissed through gritted teeth as he felt her tighten around him. "Stop tryin' to be quiet."
"I told you this car was off-limits." He rasped, slowly pulling out. He left only the tip to tease her, his smirk widening as he felt her body practically beg for him to slide back in. "Yet here you are, shaking all over the backseat like you own it."
A low satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest. He watched her unravel, her small pleas falling on his ears while her fingers gently dug deeper into his biceps.
"Look at what you're doing." Katsuki muttered, his gaze flicking down to where they were joined before dragging back up to her face. "Making a goddamn mess all over my interior."
There was no hiding the mess she was making—her slickness coating his cock and spilling over onto the seats.
"Please, Katsuki—keep going.." He didn't need to be told twice.
Grunting at her plea, he buried himself inside her with one heavy, bottoming-out thrust before immediately returning to that relentless pace she loved.
"Fuck—Go ahead and ruin it, baby." He groaned, his voice nearly breaking as they both hit the edge. "I'll clean up your mess, then I'm gonna ruin you all over again back here."
Katsuki was a fanatic about his interior, but apparently, her soaking his leather was the only mess he tolerated.
katsuki with a shy girl who only lets him eat her out if he has a blanket over his head...
he tried to do it a couple times before, only to be met with your thighs clenched around his head and your face stuffed in a pillow — pulling him up by the collar of his shirt as you ignore the ache between your thighs and mutter that he "doesn't have to do that"
and katsuki knows what he can do, prides himself on knowing how to eat pussy, how to make his girl feel good — and he's determined to get to the bottom of this.
so, the next time he's kissing down the valley of your cleavage and feels his hair being tugged as he reaches for your waistband, he decides enough is enough.
"why won't you let me do this"
your hands loosen their grip in his hair, "katsuki—"
"please, you're killing me here" he mutters, bringing one of your hands towards his lips as he kisses your palm, "just wanna make you feel good"
it's clear he wasn't taking your excuses this time, especially when he can see your slick soaking the thin fabric of your panties when his mouth gets just a little too close.
so, you give him an ultimatum...
and katsuki's mouth is ruthless, as if he's been depraved from something so divine all his life — because he has. his head bobbing under the sheets as he listens to your stifled moans. he comes up for air between licks, forehead dewy and hair stuck to his face as he watches you with glossy eyes.
and katsuki never complains, cause if this is the only way to have you as loud as he wants you to be — he'll choose that damn blanket every time.
a/n: do we fuck with the blurbs horndogs? i like writing them when i feel like i have an idea that doesn't need a whole fic 🤔 also then i can provide for your freakiness a little faster ykyk -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋
99 problems, but a wet dream ain’t one | katsuki b.
summary: katsuki had a wet dream about you — and now he can’t get the image out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. and when you find out? you’re sure as hell not making it easy for him.
warnings: best friend!katsuki, best friend!reader, reader is shameless, reader is down BAD, teasing, flirting, cursing, dirty talk, wet dream, smut, blowjob, gagging, spit, dom!katsuki, bratty!sub!reader, degradation, “this is a bad idea” typa fic, MDNI;
wc: 2,3k
Katsuki Bakugou has a best friend problem.
And it isn’t the kind of problem that can be solved by just talking about it, like normal friends do.
No. This is pretty difficult to solve.
Why?
One, because Katsuki doesn’t even talk about feelings or problems most of the time. He just bottles them up until something new appears and then forgets about whatever bothered him before.
And two, he definitely won’t talk about how a wet dream with his best friend made him feel.
Yeah. A wet dream.
He hasn’t had one of those since he was a fucking teenager, and it makes him feel so stupid. He is a grown man, for God’s sake. An established pro-hero. A respected one. And more recently?
A fucking loser.
A loser who now struggles to even meet your eyes while you’re having a simple conversation, because every time he does, he remembers how you looked in his dream — naked and sweaty and so fucking eager to suck him off.
And of fucking course his mind wanders further—
Would your mouth feel that good in reality?
Would it turn him on that much to have you on your knees between his legs?
Would your moans really sound that divine while doing your best to bring him towards pleasure?
Will—
“Earth to Katsukiii,” you suddenly speak, waving a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts and making him jolt slightly, his body shifting backwards on the couch.
“What!?” His head snaps towards you instantly, his hand coming up to slap yours away, ignoring the warmth that lingers from the brief contact.
“I have been talking to you,” you frown, scooching closer to him, leaning forward slightly, trying to catch his gaze. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothin’,” he shrugs, but his body tenses the moment your chest brushes against his arm.
“You’re even pissier than usual,” you remark with a raised brow, studying him carefully. He scoffs.
“You’re imagining things,” he replies way too fast.
You frown deeper, squinting your eyes as you shift even closer, intentionally closing the space between you. You don’t miss the way he immediately leans away.
“Why do you run from me?” you ask, tilting your head.
“I like my space, weirdo,” he mutters under his breath.
“I like your space too,” you tease, nudging your knee against his.
He instantly moves his knee away.
“Shut up and watch this damn movie,” he rolls his eyes, trying to focus anywhere but you.
“Kats.”
No answer.
“Katsuki,” you insist again, leaning in and poking his cheek with your finger.
You feel it — the tension.
You notice the way his hands curl, palms balling into fists as he takes a slow, deep breath, clearly trying to keep himself together.
“What’s up with you?” you push again, your voice softer this time, but more insistent. You move even closer, until he’s practically cornered at the end of the couch, your body fully pressing into his.
“Tell meee,” you drag out, nudging him lightly. “What’s bothering you?”
“You’re bothering me,” he finally snaps, his tone sharp and annoyed, making you blink in surprise. “Even in my fuckin’ dreams,” he adds with a frustrated groan, dragging a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already was.
“What?” you ask, caught off guard. “You dreamt about me?”
“Are you deaf?” he rolls his eyes, letting out a short, dry chuckle.
Then—
Something shifts.
A slow, almost mischievous grin spreads across your lips.
“What kind of dream did you have?” you ask, lowering your voice slightly as you lean closer, your gaze locking onto his.
Before he can react, you move.
In one smooth motion, you swing your leg over him, then the other, settling yourself directly in his lap, your thighs resting on either side of his muscular legs.
His mouth parts slightly, frozen halfway open, one eye twitching as he stares up at you, completely caught off guard.
“Come on,” you push again, shifting slightly on his lap, your clothed core brushing against his crotch through his jeans.
“Did you have a wet dream?” you ask playfully, clearly teasing, not thinking anything of it — but the moment he flinches, looking away instead of snapping back at you, your smile falters just a bit.
“Did you really have a wet dream of me?” you ask again, this time more serious, your eyes searching his face.
“Piss off,” he mutters, avoiding your gaze.
“Oh my god… I want to know right now,” you nudge him again, more insistent this time.
“I ain’t telling you shit, now get off of me,” he says, though his hands find your hips, gripping them instinctively.
You place your hands over his, pressing them down, smirking slightly.
“You know… if you tell me what it was about… maybe I can help,” you shrug casually, as if you didn’t just drop that.
He stares at you, completely dumbfounded, like you just said the most insane thing he’s ever heard.
“You gotta be joking,” he says, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Why would I be? It’s not like I don’t find you hot or anything,” you add, shifting slightly again in his lap.
That stirrs something in him.
He hisses under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening without him even realizing it.
“I’m still not telling you,” he mumbles, jaw clenching.
“Okay…” you hum. “I’ll guess.”
You take a moment to think, then—
“Was I on all fours? Were you fucking me from the back? I know you like doggy style… or maybe something else? Like missionary? Or cowgirl?” you ramble, mostly to yourself, watching his reactions closely. “How about—“
“It was a goddamn blowjob, now shut up,” he groans, his head falling back against the couch with a dull thud.
“Oh,” you pause, blinking. “A blowjob,” you repeat thoughtfully, tilting your head slightly.
“How was I able to fit all of that in my mouth?” you add, genuinely thinking about it.
He groans louder this time, hands leaving your hops and dragging them down his face.
“You are killing me, woman,” he mutters, voice strained, making you giggle softly.
“So you want it?” you ask, watching him closely.
He makes a pause, completely baffled.
Then—
“The hell? Who asks their best friend to suck them off?” he snaps, glaring at you.
“Who dreams of their best friend sucking them off?” you shoot back instantly, raising a brow.
“Smartass,” he scoffs.
“Pervert.”
“Oh, I’m the pervert? Not you, who’s been grinding on me for the past minutes?” he shoots back.
“I only suggested it because you seem stressed lately,” you say, your tone softer now, but still teasing. “And you clearly don’t wanna talk about feelings. Maybe I can help some… other way… you know?”
He goes quiet.
Really quiet.
His brows pull together as he stares at you, his expression shifting into something more serious, more conflicted — something you can’t quite read.
You’ve never seen that look on him before.
Not like this.
There’s hesitation.
Something heavy sits behind his eyes.
“You better not make me regret this,” he mutters finally, his voice lower now.
Your brows lift slightly, tilting your head. You didn’t know what to make of this words.
“Wha— what?”
His hands tighten on your hips, making you shift against his crotch for the nth time.
“Get on your knees.”
“Now?” You ask baffled.
“Yes, now. I’m in the mood and it’s your fault,” he reminds you.
You bite your lip to repress a smile.
Instead of a snarky comment, you just nod quietly and get off his lap. He spreads his legs wider the moment you move, watching you closely as you lower yourself onto your knees, settling between his muscular thighs.
Your palms come up to touch them, fingers gripping the material of his jeans as you slowly move them up and down, feeling the tension in his body, trying to ease it just a little.
You take your time.
Slowly moving upward, dragging it out, making it feel like it takes forever to reach his crotch… then his belt.
You start unbuckling it, your movements slow, all while looking up at him — watching the way he stares down at you, jaw tight, lips pressed together, hands resting stiffly at his sides.
You slide the belt out of the way, then undo his zipper, finally revealing his black boxers. Something hard brushes against your hand and he hisses above you, his breath catching.
Your fingers dip under the material and drag it down, exposing his happy trail that leads down to his cock. His own hands come down to help, pushing his jeans and boxers lower, lifting his hips just enough. The fabric bunches at his thighs, out of the way.
And then—
His cock springs free.
Long. Thick. Prominent veins running along the length of it. The tip flushed a reddish color, already leaking with pre-cum.
“C’mon, dig in,” he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips as his hand comes to tangle in your hair, pushing you slightly forward.
You don’t rush.
You lean in slowly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling the way he reacts instantly — his breath hitching, a quiet hiss slipping past his lips as you glance up at him through your lashes.
Your tongue slides out, dragging along his length, long, intentional strokes, collecting the pre-cum as you go. His fingers tighten in your hair.
“Don’t— be such a tease, damn it,” he grits out, voice rougher now, the veins in his neck more visible as he looks down at you.
You let out a quiet chuckle, but you give in.
Enough teasing.
You part your lips and guide him in, taking him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, relaxing your jaw as you go, until the tip presses against the back of your throat.
You pause there for a second, breathing steadily through your nose, adjusting — letting your body relax around him.
Then you start moving.
Slow at first.
Pulling back just enough before taking him in again, setting a rhythm, your tongue flattening along the underside, tracing the veins, working with each movement.
Spit and pre-cum mix together, making everything smoother, your lips sealing tightly around him.
All the while, your eyes stay on him.
Watching everything.
The way his teeth catch his lower lip. The flare of his nostrils. The crease forming between his brows as he tries to hold himself together. Low grunts slip past his lips, restrained, controlled — but you can tell he’s holding back.
That only makes you pick up the pace.
Your head starts bobbing more steadily, your movements more confident, more precise. Tears sting lightly at your eyes from the burn of your throat, but you don’t stop — you just adjust your breathing, keeping the rhythm consistent.
You want to hear him.
Really hear him.
“You happy now?” he asks, breath uneven, voice rough. “Having a mouth full of me?”
You let out a muffled moan around him in response, the vibration traveling through him as your tongue moves again, your pace never faltering.
“You greedy brat,” he chuckles, though his voice strains. He knows you — you like this, like putting on a show, like pulling reactions out of him.
His hips twitch upward when you increase your speed, your nails digging slightly into his thighs to steady yourself as his fingers tighten in your hair.
Sweat starts to bead at his forehead, sliding down as strands of blond hair stick to his skin.
“Mhm— keep— keep going,” he finally groans, his control slipping just a bit more.
You keep the same pace, consistent, precise, working him up without losing rhythm, your tongue and lips working together, spit and pre-cum already dripping down your chin. But is all worth it when you feel it—
The twitch.
The tension building.
A few more precise movements, a slight change in pressure, and then—
He breaks.
“Fuck, fuck, gonn a—“
His words are cut off as a low, deep moan escapes him. He releases, his body tensing as he spills hot loads of cum into your mouth. He closes his eyes at the feeling, barely able to keep his lips sealed.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, his orgasm washing over him, then — he finally looks at you. You were still on your knees, still sucking and slurping like your life depended on it.
“Fuckin’ hell— you’re takin’ everything,” he lets out a weak, breathy laugh. And it was true, you make sure to not let anything go to waste.
You suck him dry.
And he lets you — for a short while.
Only when the sensitivity kicks in does he tug at your hair, trying to catch his breath and helping you catch yours.
“Shit— too much—” he groans, needing another second to breathe, to recover as you pull away, licking your lips slowly, cleaning the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand as you look up at him.
Taking him in.
He’s leaned back against the couch now, hair messy, chest rising and falling steadily, his cock flushed and glistening, resting against his stomach now. His pants and boxers are still pushed down around his thighs as he spreads his legs, taking a lot of space like usual.
But he wasn’t the only one looking messy… he noticed your state too.
And fuck if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
Your hair was deshiveled from his grabbing, your cheeks were flushed, lips plump and glistening with fluids… you looked so fucking pretty like this — on your knees for him, having his cum down your throat and looking at him with teary eyes — a sign of how hard you tried to take him.
You remain on the floor even if it wasn’t the most comfortable place, still close to him.
“So…” you finally break the silence softly.
His eyes snap back to yours, still catching his breath.
“Was this better than your dream?” you ask with a raised brow and a teasing grin.
But he won’t give you want to want. He already gave you enough.
He just scoffs at your question, rolling his head slightly to the side, trying to hide his smile.
nerdjo’s glasses slip down his nose as he stares at you between his knees, mouth already running even while you’re bobbing on his cock.
“fuckkk, that’s so good—shit, wait, did you know that like… most guys only last like five minutes with head? which is, y’know, kind of embarrassing considering the male refractory period—”
his words stutter when you swallow around his sensitive tip, spit dripping down your chin. “ohhh god, okay, yeah, that’s—fuck—that’s definitely less than five minutes for me.”
your tongue presses under his tip and he whines, still running his mouth.
“ahhh—shit, baby, did you also know semen actually has, like, fructose in it? it’s literally nature’s energy drink—ohhh fuck, your tongue—wait, wait, don’t stop—” his whimpers comes out shaky, hand twitching like he wants to push your head down but can’t decide if it’s rude.
you take him deeper, throat tightening, and he slaps a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his lenses. he tries to muffle a moan but it comes out anyway, high and desperate.
“o-okay, okay, uh—s-science says sucking dick releases oxytocin—hahh, f-fuck—bonding hormone, y’know? so technically, we’re like… getting closer right now.”
you hum around him in agreement and he gasps, words spilling faster. “shitshitshit, baby, you’re—fuck, your throat’s so warm, you’re making me cum—ahhh, oh god, wait, I’m serious, I’m—”
he breaks off with a choked moan, cock twitching as he shoots thick cum across your tongue, still babbling about “increased intimacy” while you swallow every drop.
when your husband is supposed to be the calm, rational one, you don’t expect to find him standing at the foot of the bed with his cock in his hand, whining into the dark like he’s about to fall apart.
but that’s where satoru ends up. tank top pushed halfway up his ribs, belt hanging useless from one loop, pants around his knees. his fist works up and down the fat length of his cock in rough, punishing strokes, spit and precum smeared down to his balls. he’s staring at you the whole time—at the soft curve of your hip under the sheet, the flutter of your lashes against your cheek. pregnant. glowing. carrying his baby.
and he’s rutting into his hand like some desperate virgin.
the panties he stole from the laundry basket are bunched in his other hand, pressed to his face. he inhales like he’s drowning, shuddering so hard the flimsy fabric trembles against his nose. your warm, musky scent has him sobbing out a noise that doesn’t sound human.
“fuck, baby—” it rips out of him, pitched way too high. “smell so good... oh fuck, i can’t—can’t stop.”
his cock is obscene. flushed dark, fat veins raised under the skin, the head so slick it shines even in the faint glow of the bedside lamp. precum drips in heavy strings down his balls, thick enough to coat his knuckles. every stroke drags more slick out of him, messy, frothing and too loud. schlick, schlick, schlick.
he sucks at the fabric like it could feed him, panting between licks, nose buried deep so he could breathe you in while his tongue works. “god, i'd eat you out for days if i just—mnghm!—if i just had the chance.”
his hips snap forward into his own fist, cock smacking his stomach with each thrust. precum splatters onto his tank top, dripping onto the hardwoods in obscene drops.
disgusting. a husband rutting into his fist because he’s too scared to touch his pregnant wife.
but satoru can’t stop. he’s babbling now, words spilling fast and needy. “want it so bad—fuck, want to fuck you on my knees, i’d worship you, i’d never stop—”
he chokes on a sob as his balls tighten up, cock jerking violently in his grip. the sound he makes is actually humiliating— a high, euphoric whine. his thighs shake.
then, he breaks.
cum spurts out in heavy ropes, hot and endless, painting his stomach, his abs, his fist, the floor. lewd, thick jets that won’t stop, spilling like his body is trying to empty years of frustration at once. it drips down the backs of his fingers, strings across his knuckles, sprays his shirt. he gasps, still pumping through it, cock twitching uncontrollably, as if even his own body doesn’t know when enough is fucking enough.
“ah—mnhg—fuck, t-too much, i can’t...” his voice cracks, strangled, but his fist won’t let go. more cum leaks out, drooling down his cock, streaking his thighs. his knees buckle and he braces one hand on the nightstand, forehead dropping against the wood with a hollow thud.
when it’s finally over, when the spurts slow to tiny dribbles, he’s still shaking so hard he can barely breathe. his cock still twitches against his stomach, still half-hard like it doesn’t know how to stop.
and you’re still asleep. lashes fluttering, lips parted, beautiful and soft while he stands there wrecked.
⡴ utterly whipped gojo forcing you to praise him during sex [kinda a pt 2 to this ? ] ⡴ didn’t even touch word count
he’s balls deep in you, and yet of course he’s still spouting stupid bullshit.
“i’m doing good, right baby?” he moans (moreso whimpers), still thrusting in that half-romantic half-what it’s actually supposed to be—a hookup—rhythm. his normally porcelain cheeks are completely flushed, his cool white hair falls in his face, some strands sticking to his forehead glistening in sweat.
“i—what?” you manage to say, still out of breath from how he’s fucking into you with his unfairly big cock. every perfect ridge and vein of it is dragging against your walls as he thrusts in and out of your sopping cunt—though you’ll deny how wet you are because of how large gojo’s ego will be if he knows he actually arouses you.
“say it.” he pouts above you, gripping harder on your shoulders he’s deemed a perfect leverage point in you to help with his strokes. “say i’m doing good… please?” his blue eyes pleading to you like a puppy dog.
“gojo, i’m not fucking doing th—” he shoves all the way back in and stops his thrusts. you moan without even meaning to from the sheer amount of girth being stuffed in you. he juts his lower lip out further, clearly upset by your answer.
“c’mon,” he looks physically pained as he restrains himself from continuing his thrusts. “just say it and i’ll keep fucking you.” he whines out, sounding a lot more weak and less intimidating than he thought he would.
you breathe out. you know he’ll hold on to this for the rest of the foreseeable future but you’re close anyway. you’ll come then kick him out like always and if next time he keeps mentioning it, you’ll just stuff his face with your pussy.
“you’re doing so good, gojo.” you moan out in a shaky voice.
he moans, loudly, near pornographic, and he gets back to thrusting immediately, except he seems more motivated. his strokes are fasting and more like he’s trying to impress you. his sounds are more desperate and huffy than before.
he reaches around your waist to hug you closer and shove his face deep in your neck, right below your ear.
“haaah, fuck, baby—say i’m the best you’ve ever had, please.”
“mm, god, gojo you’re the best i’ll ever fucking have.” he cries out. cries out and actually cries. tears start streaming down his pale face and cupping along your neck and collar bone where he’s found solace. he’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon.
unwantedly but admittedly, you say this next one yourself. it’s almost like you’re starting to… like him. ew.
“such a g’boy for me, satoru.” he nuts. immediately thick cum oozes into your pussy, spilling out from how overstuffed it already is with his girthy, oversized, genetic lottery winning cock. his whole body shakes and shivers while he releases, still trying to thrust so you could finish like the good boy he is.
unfortunately he forgets he’s not god and ends up overstimulating the hell out of himself by the time he gets you to cream by his thumb pressing along your clit.
he brings his head up, covered in sweat as he’s still shaking from the feeling of nutting the hardest he ever has.
he looks nearly completely out of it before his lips curl into a smirk. “you finally called me satoru!” and then he’s attacking your lips and shoving his tongue so far down you’re throat like he’s wasn’t just near seizing from cumming.
HI HI Adelynn !!! I don’t really know who you write for, so ignore this if you don’t want to ! But what’s your take on yearner izuku ? I would love love love to read something about him :-)
YEARNER IZUKU MY LOOOOVE
Izuku Midoriya is utterly obsessed with you.
I mean, can you really blame him? You’re utterly perfect.
I promise you this man is going to remember every single little thing about you. Your favorite flower, food, movie, song, book series. Check, check, and check.
It all started before your relationship was even established. You might not have noticed but everyone else in your and his day to day lives sure did.
“Did Midoriya really drop off your favorite food again?” Yaoyorozu speaks up when the both of you sit down for your lunch break. “Looks like it.” Your laugh is mildly disbelieving. This was the fourth time just this month after all. “Soon enough it’ll be a ring waiting for you.” Jirou speaks up from behind you. Instinctively you roll your eyes. “Don’t be silly, Izuku is just a friend.” Yaoyorozu hums, mulling over what your purple haired friend was suggesting. “While I know it is none of our business I must say that I agree with Jirou. What man is willing to go that far out of their way to drop off lunch for a friend? Especially as often as he does.”
You didn’t think much of it, they were just teasing you. You’d known Izuku for years, of course you would know if he had a thing for you.
Then came the consistent floral deliveries. A beautiful bouquet full of your favorite flowers was delivered to your apartment once every three weeks at the exact same time. Now this was, of course, harder to write off. All the more reason not to tell Yaoyorozu and Jirou. You didn’t see a need to fill their minds with more silliness.
“You really shouldn’t be spending all this money on me Zuku.” Looking up at the green haired man you could’ve sworn there was a dusting of pink along his cheeks. “I really don’t mind, you just mentioned how happy seeing a fresh bouquet on your table makes you and well, I want you to be happy.” Izuku rubs at the back of his neck , a nervous tic he’s had for as long as you can remember. “If you say so,” You shrug. “But be careful or I’ll get used to this princess treatment. Then what will we do whenever some super model comes and sweeps you off of your feet? I’ll have to go back to buying my own flowers.” You keep your tone light and teasing, though there is an undetectable seriousness. What will you do whenever he finds someone he loves? Be the pathetic pining best friend who’s eyeing him longingly while he watches his bride walk down the aisle? No thanks.
Things take a turn when you notice him getting closer to Uraraka. Of course you had known of their mutual pining back in high school but as far as you were aware they had both gotten over that. At least that’s what you thought before you spotted them together at the bookstore you frequented, Izuku had even taken you a few times. You really did try your best to bury the rising jealousy when you approached the pair. “Fancy seeing you two here.” You say, reaching up and tapping Izuku on his shoulder. From the sound of your voice you were pretty sure you were turning green with envy. “Oh! Hey there (Y/N, I haven’t seen you in ages!” Uraraka looks nervously between you and Izuku. “Uh huh, how’ve you been?” You really do try to keep your focus on the woman in front of you, considering she’s the one you’re talking to. You don’t remember much of the conversation the three of you share, eager to escape the awkward and sort of saddening situation. Could you just ask Izuku what he was doing out it’s her? Sure. Would you? Absolutely not. It’s not really your business anyways, it’s not like he’s yours or something.
Communication with him dwindled some after that with the constant excuses you were giving him. He wanted to go out to the movies? Sorry, work was super busy and you were just exhausted. Your favorite band was going to be playing near you? Nope, you have to visit your parents that day. Truthfully, that one hurt. You had been dying to see them in person. It didn’t take long for Izuku to notice, he’d see you posting stories out with your friends or about being ‘so bored I could die’. If he slid up on those something had always miraculously popped up. And frankly he had had enough of it.
That’s how he found himself taking a very rare day off just to pick up food from your favorite take out place, an even more elaborate bouquet of flowers, your favorite movie, and that dessert you had told him you were dying to try. He knew you would be exiting the elevator soon, after all he pretty much had your work schedule memorized by now. The closer he knew you had to be getting the more his nerves grew. He didn’t know what he had done to drive you away but he would do whatever you wanted to get back into your good graces. He was at the point he would grovel on his hands and knees if you asked him to.
“Izuku?” He hears you say, looking up to meet your gaze. You had just turned the corner and were rapidly approaching the door to your apartment. Today really had been super busy. “Hey.” Seeing you after a week of essentially being ghosted was like taking your first drink of water after aimlessly traveling the desert for a week. “What are you doing here?” It didn’t take a genius to uncover the apprehension in your voice as you eyed the items he held. “Um, can I come in?” A sigh escapes your lips, you knew you’d have to have this conversation eventually but did it really have to be on a day you were this tired? “Sure.”
Inside the tension only seems to rise as Izuku takes in the home that he’s all too familiar with.
“Do you want something to drink?” You offer as he sets his gifts down on your kitchen table. “No thank you.” The two of you had never felt this awkward around one another before.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate for you to be here right now?” The question catches him off guard. He gets that confused puppy look on his face that you know all too well and that accompanied by a little tilt of his head makes your heart squeeze. “I mean, would Uraraka be okay with you being here? Bringing me gifts and stuff?”
Dark eyebrows knit together before realization crosses his face. “The book store.” His voice is barely audible. “Yeah, sorry for interrupting your date by the way.” “(Y/N) that wasn’t-“ You don’t give him time to finish. “You should probably go Izuku. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable, she really is a sweetheart.” “Wait, just let me explain.” There’s a sad sort of desperation in his voice. “There’s nothing else to say. Please just go before a rumor gets started. My neighbors are very nosey.”
You go to turn around and walk him to the door but are stopped by a rough hand gripping under your chin. Your eyes go wide at how close the two of you now are. Izuku’s eyes are nearly begging, for you to listen, to understand, to love him the way that he loves you. “Would you please just listen for once. You are so stubborn!” It comes out in a sort of laugh. “I love you. I have always loved you and I will always love you.” He pauses, pressing his forehead to yours before pulling away completely. “There is absolutely nothing between me and Uraraka. That day at the book store? We were there shopping for you. You take up every thought in my head. How do you not understand that?” He runs his hands through his hair, tugging lightly. One look at him would reveal how utterly desperate he is for you to understand.
“I can’t stand that a misunderstanding is what’s made you shut me out.” He drops to his knees, peering up at you through dark lashes. “If you want me to beg you I will. Just, please let me back in. I am desperately in love with you.”
Shock is written plainly on your face. You take a few seconds to process his words before you’re on the floor in front of him.
“Izuku I…. I love you too.” Your foreheads meet again. “May I kiss you?” It’s such a simple question, most wouldn’t think twice about it, but it means the world to you. “Please.” Your voice is so soft now, he wouldn’t hear you if you weren’t so close. But he did and that one word was all he needed before his lips met yours.
The kiss was desperate but not rough. Rather than a desperation to explore every inch of you it was a desperation to make you see how much he adored you.
His hands find your waist, pulling you effortlessly closer. Goosebumps line your body at the sheer gentleness of his touch.
You’re not sure how long it is before you break apart. Minutes? Hours? You find it doesn’t really matter. All you can focus on is the sweetness of his kiss as he plants slow and gentle pecks across your face. Your face that is currently squishes between his large and calloused palms.
“Zuku,” your voice comes out a little funny.
“Yeah?” He pulls back just long enough for you to answer.
“I love you too.”
I hope this was okay, definitely a little rushed cause I was so excited to get this out!
I think if Katsuki were to have a pet, it would be a cat of some kind. He'd likely have a preference for a breed that's loving and calm, yet he finds himself at a shelter where a particular siamese cat catches his eye. She's only about a half a year old, and the shelter doesn't know how to respond to how territorial she is.
Still, Katsuki adopts her and names her Princess, short for Princess Explosion Murder. (She's his baby, after all.)
Katsuki spoils the hell out of his cat. Premium cat food, (wild-caught salmon, wet food, and so forth) a bed over half the length of his couch, and enough enrichment toys to fill a whole room of his apartment. In retrospect, he shouldn't be surprised that Princess makes more demands of him than he makes on the field.
And Katsuki, weak for his cat, is more than happy to oblige her every demand.
On occasion, (every day, for at least an hour, but those are semantics to him) he carries her around the apartment and indulges her, taking the toys she gives and hands them back.
And, for as much as Princess sasses him, she only ever wants to be around Katsuki. On the off chance he has guests over, Princess is firmly affixed to his side, refusing to entertain anyone but Katsuki. He won't admit it, but he's especially smug about this.
Which is why when he brings you over to his apartment for the first time, his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when he sees Princess saunter up to you and nuzzle against your calf.
It does little to quell the beating of his heart when you crouch down to dote on her, lightly rubbing behind her ear and letting her inspect your hands with her paws, a task she performs rather magnanimously.
And god forbid you take Princess into your arms and cradle her, like he does, and turn to him with the bright smile he fell in love with.
"Look, Katsuki! She's so cuddly!" You beam.
"She has never once been cuddly with anyone," he nods slowly---absently, head struggling to reconcile the sight.
"Really? She's so sweet."
"She hissed at Dunce Face when he turned in her direction."
"Oh." You tilt your head, looking down at Princess. "Well, Princess and I are getting along just fine."
He can't really deny that, nor can he deny the fact that he's fallen more in love with you.
if this isn't coherent, it's because it's 2:28 A.M. and my vision's a little bit bleary and my head hurts 💖
satoru is obsessed with the idea and making you do things you wouldn’t do.
he likes the fact that you’re sweet and quiet and only save your giggles for him, but he also likes when you’re gagging on his dick with tears filled to the brim dripping out of your eyes with your hand in between your thighs.
his eyes glued to yours with mischief, his stomach swirling with butterflies because of how easy it is to get you to do things with him and him alone.
you and satoru are one and the same, both perverted freaks; the only difference is that you never explored it.
way too sweet and fragile before, not even realizing when satoru asked you to come study at his place it meant him being balls deep inside of your mouth giving you instructions.
you didn't even touch yourself alone; that’s when satoru knew he had a gem, his own personal doll to corrupt and bark orders to, knowing you would do them.
the first thing he did was have you sit in his lap while he showed you porn of women that looked exactly like you, talking you through the video while his hand slowly slid in between your thighs, rubbing you through the thin fabric you had on for panties.
“already that wet just from videos? "fuck, you’re cute.”
this was his own wet dream come to life, having you unexperienced, wet, and horny in his lap waiting for what came next.
the first thing he ever made you do was try to touch yourself while he watched, knowing you had no prior knowledge on how to do it, his eyes glued to your hand and how it trembled while your index and middle fingers made contact with your slick that coated your slit.
“there you go, you’re a pro already.”
a sly smirk on his face while he watched, saliva coating in his mouth and his palms getting sweaty watching.
as much as he wanted to swoop in and put his hand over yours guiding, watching felt better, naughtier, like a guilty pleasure. he wanted to see you ache and get frustrated with yourself because you couldn’t properly get yourself off.
the more this went on, the more stuff he started bringing to you.
“it’ll feel good, i promise. if it doesn't, you can slap me.”
before sliding in between your thighs and licking down your slit, gathering all your sweetness that coated his tongue and fingers that slipped into you.
gasping as time went on, his tongue flicking repeatedly on your clit and his fingers curved inside.
every time he put his hands on you, a wave of shame hit you, but still, you stayed, doing every naughty thing he wanted.
bakugou katsuki who genuinely truly gets pussy drunk when he eats you out.
he’s down there, eyes half lidded, tongue lazily lolling against you. hard to tell what’s slick and what’s spit. his hands on your thighs forcing them apart further as his tongue slides in even deeper. he’s practically moaning into you.
“ffuck kats- it’s too much!” you whine as he pumps a finger into you, sucking harshly on your clit.
“i can’t baby, y’just taste so damn good. can’t get ‘nough of ya..” as he removes his finger and goes back to slurping you up. breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert. he wants you for all of them.
and he’s so embarrassed by this but he always humps into the bed and literally cums into his pants every damn time. you always poke fun at him for messing up the bed and shit but then he just drags you onto the floor or couch and the whole thing repeats and he’s asking if this spot is better but your legs are shaking too hard to even form a thought.
but yeah katsuki would die a happy man between your legs. the only thing on earth he’d let defeat him.
It’s been three hours since it happened, and the fury has yet to subside. If anything, the silence in your shared apartment is making it worse, fanning the flames of your irritation until you feel like a walking, talking inferno. A very pregnant, very uncomfortable inferno.
It started simply enough. You were heading to the kitchen for your fourth glass of water in the last hour – this baby was apparently determined to turn your bladder into its own personal water park. That’s when you caught it: a low chuckle from the living room sofa.
You paused, one hand on your burgeoning belly, the other on the small of your back, trying to alleviate the ever-present ache. “What’s so funny?”
Sukuna’s laughter wasn’t the full-throated, arrogant sound that usually echoed through your home. No, this was a suppressed, wheezing thing, the kind of laugh that happens when you’re trying desperately not to, which only makes it a hundred times worse. He was buried in his phone, but his shoulders were shaking.
“Nothing,” he managed to get out, his voice strained.
You narrowed your eyes. “It doesn’t sound like nothing. What are you laughing at?”
He finally looked up, and that’s when you saw it. The glint of amusement in his crimson eyes, the smirk playing on his lips. He was trying to school his features into something neutral, but he was failing spectacularly.
“It’s just…” He gestured vaguely in your direction. “The way you’re walking.”
The air in the room seemed to crystallize. You could feel your blood pressure skyrocket. “The way I’m walking?” you repeated, your voice dangerously low.
“Yeah,” he said, and the idiot actually chuckled again. “You’re waddling.”
And that was it. The dam of your carefully maintained composure broke.
“Waddling?” you shrieked, and you were vaguely aware that you sounded like a tea kettle reaching its boiling point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “I am not waddling! I am carrying your child! A human being! Do you know how much this weighs? It feels like I’m smuggling a watermelon, and you’re over there, laughing at me?”
The smirk on his face finally vanished, replaced by a look of dawning horror. He’d been with you long enough to recognize the signs of an impending hormonal meltdown. He slowly put his phone down, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“Okay, okay, baby, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice placating. “It was a stupid thing to say. You’re not waddling. You’re… gliding. Like a majestic, pregnant swan.”
“A majestic, pregnant swan?” you repeated, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do I look like a swan to you, Sukuna? Do I?”
He wisely chose not to answer that question. He stood up, crossing the room in a few long strides, and tried to pull you into his arms. You sidestepped him, your arms crossed over your chest (or, as much as you could with your belly in the way).
“Don’t touch me,” you snapped. “I can’t even look at you right now.”
And that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it? You were furious with him, so angry you could spit nails, but the thought of actually being away from him was unbearable. Your hormones were a tangled mess of contradictions, and you were just along for the ride.
That’s when the idea struck you. It was brilliant in its absurdity, a perfect solution to your current predicament.
“Go get a paper bag,” you commanded.
Sukuna blinked. “A what?”
“A paper bag,” you repeated, pointing a finger at him. “From the pantry. The big ones we use for recycling. Go get one.”
He looked at you as if you’d grown a second head, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to argue with you in this state. He disappeared into the kitchen and returned a moment later, holding a large brown paper bag.
“Okay,” he said, holding it out to you. “Now what?”
“Put it on your head,” you said, your voice deadpan.
He stared at you, the bag dangling from his hand. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed, a long-suffering sound that you had become very familiar with over the past few months. He unfolded the bag, and with a final, defeated look in your direction, he pulled it over his head.
And so, here you are, three hours later. Sukuna is sitting on the sofa, a paper bag over his head, and you’re on the armchair opposite him, still fuming. The silence is thick with unspoken words, a testament to the ridiculousness of the situation.
You have to admit, it’s a little hard to stay mad at a man with a paper bag on his head. Every so often, you can hear him sigh, a muffled sound from within his paper prison. You’ve made him cut eyeholes in the bag, so you know he’s watching you, but you refuse to meet his gaze.
“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, his voice distorted by the bag.
“Yes,” you say, your voice clipped.
“It was a joke,” he says, his voice softer now. “A stupid one, I’ll admit. But I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It wasn’t funny,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that you’re so emotional, that you can go from rage to tears in the span of a few seconds.
“I know, baby,” he says, and he sounds genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
You sniff, trying to hold back the tears. “You’re just lucky I love you,” you mumble.
“I know,” he says again, and you can hear the smile in his voice, even through the bag. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
He stands up and walks over to you, the paper bag rustling with every step. He kneels in front of you, and you can feel his hands on your knees, his touch warm and familiar.
“Can I take this off now?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.
You hesitate for a moment, then nod. He reaches up and pulls the bag off his head, and you’re met with the sight of his handsome face, his eyes soft with affection. He leans in and kisses you, a slow, tender kiss that makes your heart melt.
“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.
“I love you too,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “Even if you are an idiot.”
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through you. “I know,” he says.
And as he pulls you in for another kiss, you know that he’s right. He’s your idiot, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Even if he does make you want to strangle him sometimes.
an: y'all my favorite influencer is pregnant and i got this idea when i saw her waddle cause its so cute ughhh
ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, pussywhipped!teasing!izuku yay, brat!fem!afab!reader, cunnilingus, porn no plot, reader has a beauty mark in the hoo ha, clothed sex
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: this is a reblog from my old account
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: observant + annoying bf izuku eating out shy reader for the first time
ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~340
“you got a beauty mark in here, baby.”
after vehemently refusing to observe izuku eating you out for the past five minutes due to shyness, your arm covering your sight lowers so you can glance down at him lying in between your legs, and you watch as his thick fingers spread open your drooling folds into the shape of a V. a shiver runs down your spine as he presses a chaste kiss directly to the mark before swiping over it with his tongue.
“what…?” you ask hazily, attempting to prop yourself up onto your elbows, “i do?”
“uh huh.” he takes another lick, the sound of your guys' bedsheets rustling as he adjusted the growing tent in his sweats. “you want me to take a picture?”
“uh, no—” you scowl. a whiny whimper quickly replaces the sound. “what the hell am i gonna do with a picture?”
“look at it,” he shrugs. “admire it. love it” — chuu — “that’s what i’m doing.”
he must be crazy, you decided, to think you were going to let him have documentation of you receiving oral for the first time — pajamas pants pooled at your ankles, shirt riding up your stomach, hands trembling, needy pussy spread open — on his phone. you shake your head, a breathy hiss escaping you.
“babe, can’t you just— ah — do it without the comments? it’s embarrassing…”
izuku only lets out a simple hum in response. “bossy, bossy,” he muses. his lips wrap themself around your clit before giving the bead an obnoxious slurp. “i just think it's funny.”
“funny?” your brows scrunch. “why is it funny?”
your boyfriend merely laughs at your confusion and how you writhe underneath him. “cause’ it’s like— y’know that thing about how moles are the places where your lover in a past life kissed?” when you roll your eyes, the grin tugging at his lips deepens. “looks like someone was getting freaky.”
god, did he ever shut up?
“izuku,” you huff, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your cheeks. “don’t be weird.”
“alright, alright,” he concedes with a chuckle, “no talking with my mouth full, got it.”
