*•̩̩͙✩˚A/N:Okay guys here’s part two! You ask and you shall receive or whatever. Anyways I’m half asleep already so you better enjoy cause I forced myself to stay awake. Yeahh enjoy babes xx
Shoto Todoroki — “You Want Me to Leave?”
You didn’t usually mess with Shoto.
Not because you couldn’t — he was your boyfriend, not a porcelain doll — but because he was usually the one leaving you flustered with his bluntness, quiet observations, and tendency to walk around shirtless after morning showers like it was no big deal.
But today? You were going to get him back.
The apartment was quiet, filled with soft sunlight. Shoto was sitting on the edge of the bed, one socked foot on the ground, the other resting across his knee as he scrolled through messages from the agency. His white-and-red hair was still slightly tousled from his post-shower routine, and the edge of a smile played at his lips as he absentmindedly read through the group chat he barely replied to.
You stood in front of the dresser, digging for comfy clothes, clad in just his oversized shirt and a pair of shorts that were hidden by the hem.
It was the perfect setup.
You turned, keeping your tone even. “Sho? Can you step out for a second? I’m gonna change.”
He didn’t even look up. “I don’t mind.”
You blinked. “I know, but I do. Just for now. Please?”
That got his attention.
His phone lowered slowly. His two-toned eyes flicked to your face, then down to your outfit, and back up again with clear confusion.
“…You want me to leave the room?”
You nodded, biting your lip to keep a straight face. “Just while I change.”
His brows furrowed slightly. “But… I’ve seen you change a hundred times.”
You shrugged. “Still. I want privacy.”
There was a beat of silence.
Shoto blinked. Once.
Then again.
“…Are you mad at me?”
You had to fight every urge to not crack right then. “No! I just… want to change alone.”
Now he looked genuinely concerned. “Did I do something?”
“No. It’s not about you.”
“Then why—”
You sighed dramatically. “Sho, just please step out for a second.”
He stood slowly, frowning, clearly puzzled. “If you’re upset, I’d rather talk about it.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve never been shy before. You’ve literally sat on my lap while in nothing but a thong.”
“Well, maybe I changed.”
A beat.
“You’re lying.”
You froze, staring at him with mock offense. “What?”
He tilted his head just slightly, watching you like a puzzle he was trying to solve. “You’re messing with me.”
He smiled faintly, proud of himself for catching on. “You forget I live with you.”
“So you’re not going to fall for it?”
“I didn’t say that.” He raised an eyebrow, voice smooth. “I just want to know why you felt the need to prank me. I’ve been very good today.”
“You left wet towels on the bathroom floor.”
“…That was a strategic oversight.”
You giggled, but he stepped closer, tilting his head with curiosity.
“Was it payback for when I accidentally walked in on you last week?”
“You didn’t even flinch. You just said ‘nice’ and walked out.”
“It was nice,” he said, deadpan.
You laughed, cheeks heating.
He stopped in front of you now, arms resting gently on either side of your waist, his touch warm even through the shirt.
“You’re really cute when you lie,” he murmured. “But not very convincing.”
“I had you going for a second.”
“Two seconds. Maybe.”
His thumbs traced slow, absent-minded circles at your hips. “But… for the record…”
You looked up, caught off guard by the faint blush rising to his ears.
“If you ever did want me to leave… I’d probably just wait outside the door. Quietly. Staring at the floor.”
You blinked. “That’s… weirdly adorable.”
“I don’t like the idea of you hiding from me.”
“It wouldn’t be hiding.”
“It would feel like it.”
You softened. “Sho…”
“I know it’s stupid,” he added quickly, letting out a quiet breath. “But I like knowing I can be close to you. That you trust me. That you want me there.”
Your hand found his cheek gently, brushing his bangs aside.
“I do,” you said. “I always do.”
“Then don’t prank me again,” he mumbled, almost pouty now. “You looked serious. I thought I messed up.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close. “I’m sorry.”
He hummed. “You can make it up to me.”
“Oh? How?”
He leaned down, his mouth brushing your ear.
“Let me help you change.”
Your face burned. “Shoto—!”
He smiled, just a little smug now. “What? It’s the least you can do.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours.”
“Fine. But I pick the music this time.”
He nodded, leading you toward the closet. “As long as it’s not the glitter song.”
“Sho—”
“No glitter song.”
Enji Todoroki — “You want me to… what?”
The hum of fire from the kitchen had faded.
That meant he’d finished dinner.
You stretched on the couch, glancing at the clock. It was already late, and Enji was sticking to his off-duty promise — no agency calls, no patrols, just one quiet evening together. He had cooked for you (like always), showered (like always), and now he was probably in the bedroom, folding towels unnecessarily (like always).
He was still Endeavor — sharp, structured, proud — but the man who lived in your home wasn’t the firestorm on TV. With you, he was quieter. Slower. Awkward, sometimes. Like he wasn’t used to being wanted for anything soft.
That’s why tonight felt like the perfect time to mess with him just a little.
You padded into the bedroom, towel slung around your shoulders, robe tight around your waist. He was at the edge of the bed, reading glasses pushed up on his nose, quietly browsing his tablet. Shirtless, of course — his skin still warm from the shower, hair damp and pushed back.
You stood by the closet, holding a change of clothes in your hand, pretending to look thoughtful.
“Hey, babe?”
His head tilted toward you, one thick brow lifting in silent acknowledgment. He didn’t speak — just waited. That’s how Enji was. No wasted words unless necessary.
“I’m gonna change now,” you said lightly, facing him, playing it casual. “Can you, um… step out for a sec?”
He blinked.
“…Why?”
There it was — the first crack. You bit back a smile.
“I just need to change,” you repeated, hiding your grin behind your voice. “Alone.”
He didn’t move. His jaw flexed, and you could see the gears turning in that sharp, structured brain of his. He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions, but he was the type to assume he’d messed up.
A long silence. He stared at you, unreadable. And then, finally:
“I’ve seen you naked. Multiple times.”
You turned slightly away, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Yeah, but still. I don’t know. Could you just… wait outside for a minute?”
Now he looked genuinely puzzled. His frown deepened, not out of annoyance, but confusion — as if he were running the scenario through his brain and couldn’t find the logic in it.
“You’re uncomfortable changing in front of me now?” he asked slowly. “…Did something happen?”
You almost broke.
“No! I mean, nothing bad.” You waved your hand, trying to be breezy. “I just… feel like it. I don’t know.”
Enji’s gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, jaw flexing. You could see his brain working overtime. And it was adorable.
“…If I’ve done something to upset you,” he said, voice quieter, “you can tell me. You don’t have to—”
“Oh my god, Enji—no,” you interrupted quickly, walking over to put your hand on his arm. “I’m not upset. I swear. Just… could you step out for a sec?”
Now he was really confused. Like, genuinely stuck.
He looked at the door. Then back at you. Then at the bed. Then back at the closet.
“…You’re not… testing me, are you?” he asked, clearly suspicious now.
You laughed — you had to. “Testing you? What?”
“You’ve never asked me to leave before. I don’t understand.”
That was true. Enji was normally the one who’d politely look away or give you space — until the relationship deepened and boundaries blurred. But now that you were well past that stage, this sudden request threw him completely off balance.
He stepped back slightly. “If this is some kind of… relationship boundary reset, I’ll respect it. I just don’t—” He broke off again. “Are you mad at me?”
That did it. You absolutely couldn’t keep it together anymore. You burst into laughter, doubling over a bit, and Enji looked even more alarmed.
“I’m pranking you, you dummy!”
He blinked.
“You… what?”
“I’m pranking you,” you repeated through laughter. “It’s a trend — telling your husband to leave so you can change, even though it makes no sense. I wanted to see what you’d do.”
He just stared at you.
For a very long time.
“…You’re joking.”
“I just said it’s a prank!”
Enji exhaled, half-relieved and half-exasperated. “You’re playing games now?”
“I had to! You’re so serious all the time.” You grabbed his hand, eyes still sparkling. “You were about to spiral.”
“I was not about to spiral.”
“You were definitely spiraling. You thought I was mad at you!”
He grunted and looked away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. You caught the faintest pink at the tops of his ears.
“…You caught me off guard,” he muttered. “That’s all.”
You grinned, still holding his hand. “You really thought I didn’t want you in the room anymore?”
“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, eyes softening slightly. “You’ve never asked me that. It felt… abrupt.”
That was his way of saying it unsettled him. Which, okay, made you feel a tiny bit bad. But he also looked so flushed and confused that you couldn’t help but tease him more.
“Aww, poor flamey,” you said, bumping his hip. “Didn’t know what to do with himself.”
Enji gave you a flat look, but you saw the amused twitch in his mouth. You knew that look.
“I could’ve just taken my shirt off right in front of you and ended the prank,” he said casually.
You blinked. “You wouldn’t.”
He leaned a little closer.
“Wouldn’t I?”
Your stomach fluttered — which was not part of the plan. “Enji…”
“I’m still confused,” he continued smoothly. “But I think I know one way to get over it.”
You raised a brow. “Which is?”
“Take your shirt off and make it up to me.”
You stared at him.
He stared right back, face completely serious.
“…That’s not how pranks work, babe.”
He hummed. “You’ve pranked me. That means I win the next move.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re making that up.”
Enji took a slow step closer. “Am I?”
You backed up — just slightly — laughing. “Oh, you’re so full of it!”
“You said I’m too serious,” he said, voice low and amused. “Maybe I should start pranking you back.”
“You wouldn’t survive the chaos.”
“I think I’d manage.”
You watched him with warmth in your chest. He really was trying, even now — adapting to your energy, playing along, letting himself soften for you.
“You’re kind of adorable when you’re confused, you know that?” you said softly, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt.
He sighed, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I hate how much that worked on me.”
“You love it.”
“…Maybe.”
Silence fell again — but this time, it was warm, content. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into the heat of him. The earlier awkwardness had melted into something tender, familiar.
You buried your face into his chest.
“Still love me, even if I prank you sometimes?” you asked
He held you tighter.
“Always.”
Aizawa Shouta — “You Want Me to Leave? …Why?”
Living with Aizawa was kind of like living with a grumpy cat that secretly loved you.
He never said “I love you” first, never really smiled unless you were half asleep on his chest or struggling to button your coat in the morning. But he’d fix your collar for you, wordlessly. He’d bring coffee without asking. He’d drag himself out of bed at 3am just to warm up the house because you kicked off the blanket in your sleep and now your toes were cold.
Subtle. Careful. Quiet.
So naturally… he was the perfect target for a harmless little prank.
You were in the bedroom, fresh out of the shower in your robe, rifling through the dresser for clean clothes while Aizawa sat on the bed reading some training reports for his class. His hair was loose — his “I’m off the clock, don’t ask me to move” look — and his posture was relaxed, shoulders slouched, one hand resting absently on his thigh.
Perfect.
You cleared your throat. “Hey, babe?”
He didn’t look up. “Hm?”
“…Can you leave the room for a sec? I’m gonna change.”
There was a pause.
He turned a page, deadpan. “Why?”
You shrugged casually, not looking at him. “Just want to change in private.”
His face was deadpan.
“…We’re married,” he said slowly.
You held back your grin. “Still.”
Another long pause. He blinked once.
“You’re shy now?”
You shrugged. “Just not feeling it right now.”
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, clearly trying to process the situation.
“We’ve literally showered together.”
You spun around with mock-seriousness. “Shouta.”
“Yes?”
“Could you please leave?” you asked with dramatic politeness.
He looked up now, slowly.
“…Are we fighting?”
You held back a grin. “Nope.”
“Did I do something?”
“Not that I can think of.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and he closed the file in his lap.
“I’ve seen you change a hundred times. You’ve changed in front of me without realizing it.”
You gave a shrug and didn’t meet his eyes. “I just want to be alone while I do it this time.”
The silence stretched.
“…Did Hizashi put you up to this?”
Your lips twitched. “No.”
“Do I need to remind you,” he said, voice low and dry, “that I’ve stitched you into your hero costume while you were half-naked in lingerie because we were late to patrol because of how hard of sex we had the night before?”
You snorted.
“I’ve bandaged your ribs. Rubbed medicine on your back. You fall asleep next to me without undergarments.”
“This is a prank.”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re lying.” He didn’t even blink. “I’ve interrogated villains more convincing than this.”
You bit your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Aizawa stood, stretching with a quiet sigh. “Alright, fine.”
You blinked. “Wait—what?”
“I’ll go.”
Now you were thrown. “Seriously?”
He strolled toward the door. “If you’re gonna play games, I’ll go nap on the couch. Let me know when the dramatics are over.”
“No! Wait—Shouta!”
You caught his sleeve as he passed and burst out laughing, tugging him back.
He didn’t resist, but his unimpressed look spoke volumes.
“You’re the worst liar alive,” he said. “You can’t even keep a straight face.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually get up!”
“You pushed it too far.” He raised a brow. “Telling me to leave our room. Like I’m some random guy you barely tolerate.”
You grinned. “You tolerate me.”
“I more than tolerate you,” he muttered under his breath.
You paused.
“…What was that?”
“Nothing.”
You leaned into him. “Say it again.”
He exhaled sharply. “You heard me.”
“No, I need you to say it like you mean it.”
He deadpanned, “You’re annoying.”
You kissed his cheek. “I know. But you love it.”
He grunted, grabbing your waist and pulling you in lazily. “You’re lucky I like difficult women.”
“I thought you didn’t like anyone?”
“You’re the exception.”
Your heart skipped a little at the easy way he said it — so casually, so Aizawa.
You looked up at him and grinned. “So you weren’t mad?”
“I wasn’t mad. I was considering revenge.”
“Revenge?!”
“Hm.” He tugged your robe loose at the collar with a finger. “Something along the lines of making sure you ask me to leave next time. Loudly. Desperately.”
Your breath hitched. “Shouta.”
He shrugged, eyes half-lidded. “You started it.”
You narrowed your eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s completely fair.”
“You play dirty.”
“You like it.”
Damn him.
You turned away quickly, trying to hide your smile — but he reached past you for your clothes from the dresser.
“I’ve seen you wear this shirt three days in a row.”
“It’s comfy.”
“It’s mine.”
You smirked. “So? I like it.”
He handed it to you. “Then keep it.”
You blinked. “What?”
He met your eyes. “It’s yours. You wear it more than I do anyway.”
A pause.
“…You’re giving me your favorite shirt?”
“It’s just a shirt.”
“To you that’s practically a marriage proposal.”
He rolled his eyes but stepped closer, brushing a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you want a real one?”
You blinked. “Wait—what?”
“I’m kidding,” he said flatly — but the flicker in his gaze said maybe he wasn’t.
Your breath caught. “Say it again.”
“No.”
“Shouta—”
“Don’t prank me again,” he muttered. “You’ll give me a complex.”
You grinned, heart fluttering.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Deal.”
Keigo Takami — “You want me to leave? Excuse you?”
Living with Hawks was… exhausting. In a good way.
He was a human golden retriever with wings — constantly hovering, teasing, touching, kissing. If he wasn’t flying off for hero work, he was lounging around shirtless, plucking feathers from his wings with a grin and flicking them at you like darts. He was affectionate to a fault, smug on a normal day, and just a little too proud of himself when he made you flustered.
A thought sparked in your head, mischievous and immediate. You glanced at Keigo, who was distracted checking his phone — probably looking at memes or celebrity hero gossip. Now was your moment.
He was lounging on your shared bed when you stepped out of the bathroom, hair damp, towel slung around your shoulders, and robe pulled tight. You padded over to the closet, pretending not to notice the way his eyes followed your every move.
His wings twitched lazily behind him.
“You’re lucky I’m tired,” he mumbled, “or I’d be over there helping you out of that robe.”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re always tired.”
“Yeah, but I’m never too tired for you, baby.”
“Mmhm. Can you do me a favor, actually?”
“Anything,” he said, spreading his arms dramatically. “Want me to fly to the moon? Steal Endeavor’s stash of instant ramen? Fight crime shirtless?”
You snorted. “No, just… can you leave the room for a minute?”
His smile froze. “…What?”
“I’m gonna change.”
The silence was immediate.
His brows rose, golden eyes blinking in confusion. “You… want me to leave? So you can change?”
“Yeah.”
You were biting the inside of your cheek now, doing everything in your power not to lose it.
His wings twitched. “You want me… the man you have licked frosting off of his goddamned dick, to leave. So you can change.”
“…Babe.”
You looked at him innocently.
He sat up slowly. “Is this a test? Did I miss a date? Did I say something dumb while I was half-asleep again?”
“Nope.”
“You’re… actually kicking me out of the room?” His wings flared slightly. “Do you have a secret boyfriend you’re changing for? Is that it? Did a villian put you up to this?!”
You cracked. A laugh bubbled out before you could stop it, and his eyes narrowed instantly.
Keigo stared at you like you had just told him he was being drafted into the military. He pointed to the couch. “This couch. That I bought. In the apartment where I pay the rent. Where we sleep next to each other. Naked, might I add.”
Keigo threw his head back and groaned, pacing away from you like he was physically in pain.
"This is a test," he muttered. "You're testing me.
You're trying to kill me. Oh my god."
You turned away just enough to grab your shirt from the basket and hold it to your chest.
"Could you? Just for a sec?"
He froze. "You're serious."
You shrugged.
Suddenly, he was kneeling in front of you with one hand over his heart and the other stretched dramatically into the air.
"Oh, cruel temptress!" he wailed. "You wound me!"
You lost it. Burst out laughing, hiding your face in the clean laundry pile.
"I've been exiled," he continued, standing up and spinning in a circle like a tragic Broadway character. "Banished from the bedroom I so lovingly vacuumed crumbs out of last night.
Tossed aside like a common pervert."
"Kei-stop-" you gasped between laughs.
"No! I'll go!" he declared, already walking backwards toward the hallway with his wings flaring slightly. "'ll stand outside the door like a chaste fool and wait for the sound of a zipper like some kind of shameful husband-in-waiting”
"We're not married," you reminded him, still giggling.
"Oh, but I could be!" he shouted, dramatically flopping onto the bed behind you. "If only I hadn't betrayed your trust by looking at you!"
He peeked up at you from the covers, grinning.
You snorted and tossed a balled-up sock at him.
"You're such a menace."
"Admit it," he said, voice low and cocky now. "You wanted me to react like this."
“Ah-ha.” He pointed at you, grinning. “There it is. You’re messing with me.”
“I almost had you.”
“You had me worried we were breaking up!”
You rolled your eyes, walking over and pushing his shoulder gently. “You’re so dramatic.”
“I am dramatic. But only when I care.” He caught your wrist, tugging you gently between his legs. “You can’t just say stuff like that. You change in front of me all the time. You literally walked around naked last week with your ass-cheeks hanging out while eating ice cream. You said clothes were a ‘societal burden.’”
You rolled your eyes. “You are the worst.”
“Correction,” he said, walking over and kissing your forehead with zero warning. “I’m the worst best husband.”
He wasn’t your husband — yet. But he loved using the title, and you never had the heart to stop him.
He stepped closer. “The room where I’ve seen you change so many times I could recite a time-lapse of your entire wardrobe evolution.”
You cleared your throat, still playing it cool. “Yes.”
You gave him a wide-eyed, innocent smile. “Exactly.”
You smirked. “I wanted to see how fast you’d crumble.”
Keigo leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “Joke’s on you. I always crumble for you.”
That actually got you a little flustered. He smirked, clearly noticing.
You tugged on your clean shirt and turned to him, arms crossed. “Alright, drama king. You can stay.”
He rolled over to you in half a second, pulling you into his lap. “Only because I passed the test, right?”
“You absolutely failed the test,” you laughed.
“Nah. I redefined the test,” he said smugly. “And then I got extra credit.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away from him. His hands were warm on your waist, and he kissed the side of your neck gently — less playful now, more genuine.
“I like watching you change,” he murmured. “Not just because you’re hot — which, duh — but because it reminds me I get to see all the parts of you nobody else does.”
Your heart fluttered a little at that. He could be bold and ridiculous, sure — but this was Keigo at his most real.
“I didn’t mean to mess with you too hard,” you said softly.
He smiled, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Mess with me all you want, baby bird. I can take it.”
“…Husband,” you teased quietly, nudging his chest.
His whole body stilled for a second — and then a smirk broke across his lips.
he fingers you in class while the teacher is oblivious just feet away……
The classroom was suffocatingly quiet, the only sound being the monotonous drone of the teacher explaining complex logistics at the front of the room. It was the last period of the day, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks.
You were sitting in the row next to him, your thigh practically brushing against his. To any outsider, he looked like he was paying attention—slumped in his chair, arms crossed, scowling at the chalkboard. But beneath the desk, his hand was doing something entirely different.
It had started with a simple touch—a rough graze of his knuckles against your leg. Then, his hand had slid up, gripping your thigh with a possessive strength that made your breath hitch. You tried to focus on your notes, but the heat radiating from him was distracting.
Slowly, deliberately, his hand migrated further. He slid his palm under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the lace of your panties. You gasped, a small, sharp sound that made the girl in front of you glance back. You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs, but he didn't flinch. If anything, the risk only seemed to embolden him.
"Keep your fucking mouth shut," he breathed, his voice a barely audible, dangerous whisper that sent a shiver down your spine.
He didn't wait for a response. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugged them aside with a rough yank. The cool air of the classroom hit your wetness for a split second before his fingers replaced it.
You let out a muffled whimper, your back arching slightly as he slid one finger deep inside you. You were already slick, your body reacting instinctively to his touch.
"Look at you," he murmured, leaning closer so his lips were almost touching your ear, though his eyes remained fixed on the teacher. "So fucking wet in the middle of class. You're a little deviant, aren't you?"
He began to move his finger in a slow, agonizing rhythm, curling it upward to hook against your G-spot. Every time he hit that spot, a jolt of electricity shot through you, making your toes curl inside your shoes. You gripped the edges of your desk so hard your knuckles turned white, fighting the urge to moan out loud.
" hey ... stop... we're going to get caught," you whispered, your voice trembling.
"That's the point, love," he hissed, a smug, predatory smirk playing on his lips. "I want you to wonder if the whole class can hear how much you love this."
He added a second finger, stretching you open, the wet sounds of his movement hidden by the teacher's voice. He began to speed up, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a ruthless precision. He knew exactly how to wreck you. He was playing you like an instrument, pushing you closer and closer to the edge while the rest of the class sat in blissful ignorance.
You were spiraling. The contrast between the boring lecture and the raw, illicit pleasure happening beneath the desk was overwhelming. You felt a climax building—a heavy, pulsing pressure that demanded release.
"Please... please, I'm..." you whimpered, your hips unconsciously tilting toward his hand, begging for more.
"Tell me," he commanded, his fingers suddenly slowing down, teasing you, rubbing circles against your entrance without going in. "Tell me what you want, right here in front of everyone."
"I want... I want to come! Please!"
He let out a low, dark chuckle and slammed his fingers back inside you, faster and harder than before. He wasn't being gentle anymore; he was hammering into you, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, grinding in sync with the movements of his fingers.
The pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, trying to stifle the scream that tore through your throat as you peaked. Your internal muscles clamped down on his fingers in violent, rhythmic waves, milking him as your entire body shuddered with an intense, shaking orgasm.
You slumped in your seat, chest heaving, your vision blurred with tears of pleasure. He didn't pull away immediately. He kept his fingers inside you for a few more seconds, feeling the aftershocks of your climax, a look of pure triumph on his face.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand, the sound a wet slurp that felt deafening in the quiet room. He pulled his hand back, casually leaning back in his chair as if nothing had happened.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, he leaned over one last time, his voice a low, promising growl.
"Meet me in the locker room in five minutes. I'm not finished with you."
A/N: this is a little more fucked up than what i usually write, with a lot more angst and feelings. i hope you enjoy! reblogs + comments are always appreciated :)
Tags: child abuse, canon typical violence, incest (brother-sister), age gap (50s-30s), rape/non-con, domestic abuse, angst, plot heavy, eventual smut, p in v, breeding, mentions of csa/cocsa, not proofread
Wordcount: 4.8k
You loved your niece and nephews. In your mind, when the sun rose, it rose for them. You were ecstatic to find out you were to be an aunt, and when three more children came along, you could not have been happier.
But you knew what kind of man your brother was.
Enji had always been rough around his edges, his passion not trimmed down quite enough to fit society's standards. He was driven, yes, and you admired your big brother very much for that, but he was jaded and strict. He had always been that way, even when you two were young. What he lacked in tenderness, he made up for in strength and loyalty, but you knew very well that wasn't enough to raise children with.
As much as it hurt you to think about, you knew something bad would happen. Your fears were confirmed when you flew in for one of the kid's birthdays. With gifts for all of the little ones flooding your arms, you tapped the front door of Enji's home with your foot.
Shoto, your secret favorite, opened it for you. He was such a sweet boy, the youngest but so mature. You remembered when he was just a baby—silent as a rock with the smallest hint of a smile on his face when you got your turn to hold him. You could only make out the top of his head, blinded by the boxes you held, but you knew that hair anywhere.
"Hello, sweetheart," you cooed, feeling the boy hug your leg. It was a gentle embrace, as if he were trying his very best to be nonchalant. Only five and still so blasé, you thought. "Help auntie to the kitchen, will you?"
A tiny, monotone chirp followed. "Yes, ma'am."
God, your brother was loaded. You never brought it up, of course, that would be in bad taste, but being a Pro-Hero looked like it had its perks. You had never seen such a nice house, it amazed you every time you visited. Enji offered many a time to move you in, said there was too many empty rooms anyways. You always denied him, but damn, it was a marvel.
You placed the gifts on the table and mulled through them, finding a smaller box with Shoto's name written on it.
"And this is for you," you said, turning around to face him.
You paused mid-crouch, right on his level. Around one of his eyes was a large, red burn mark. It looked to be somewhat new, only starting to heal along the sides, still fresh closest to his eye. You struggled for a moment, seeing how calm his little face was. Before you could say anything, he snagged the box and opened it.
"Woah," he said, slipping the watch on. "I can't read it."
You held back a snort and patted his head, his deadpan delivery calming you down a little bit. "Don't worry, auntie will teach you how. Why don't you go find your brothers and sisters and tell them I'm here?"
"Yes, Shoto. Bring everyone here," a deep, growling voice said. If you weren't so familiar with it, it would have scared you.
You had not seen Enji for a few years, maybe two. He was the same for the most part, a few battle scars added here, hint of grey in his hair there. Still your big brother, though, even if you had some serious questions for him.
"Enji! Thank you for the invitation! I cannot believe my Fuyumi is ten, she's growing up much too fast, hm?"
"Hm." His arms, thick with coarse muscle, crossed over his broad chest. "She's been waiting for you all week."
"Because I'm her favorite, of course."
"Finicky child, her favorite is whoever brings the best gift," he said, rolling his eyes.
You gave your brother a shove, unknowingly something only you could do without consequence, "So I will remain her favorite, then!"
For a second, everything felt normal. Like you two were kids again, like you never left home. You swore you could see the faintest smirk crawl over his face, if you squinted it was there. Your big brother, always so secretive with his joy, as if someone could snatch it away in a heartbeat.
"I've missed y—"
You were cut off by a tug at your skirt. Shoto stood silently beside your leg, fiddling with the watch strapped around his wrist. Somewhere upstairs, loud footsteps thundered down the hall followed by Natsuo shouting something incomprehensible. Fuyumi’s sharper voice cut through after him, trying and failing to maintain order.
This, too, felt normal. Felt right. Until you looked down again at Shoto and saw that jarring scar. Your stomach twisted.
Children got hurt, of course. They were careless little beings, always getting scraped up and knicked. Not like this, though. The skin was swollen and red, uneven in a way that stretched from the corner of his eye to his squishy cheek. No child could accidentally get hurt like this.
Shoto acted like it was nothing, like the burn's presence was not strange or painful. That worried you most.
Before you could say something, which you desperately ached to, tiny footsteps made their way down the stairs.
"Ah! My babies!" You held your arms open, ready to catch all three stragglers.
First, Natsuo, jumping into your arms, littering your forehead and eyes with kisses, then exiting just as quickly to dig through the gifts you left on the table. Silly boy.
Fuyumi was clearly the most excited, as she nearly knocked you over with her embrace. You picked her up and gave her a twirl.
"How is my favorite girl in the whole, wide world?" you asked, smoothing out her hair.
She rambled something about how much she missed you, and how she cleaned her room specifically for your visit, and if you wanted to see it, and, and and—
"Yes, yes, that all sounds amazing, 'Yumi. Why don't you go scope out the presents with your brother? I think you'll like auntie's gift."
With the promise of that, she ran off. Only Touya remained, standing a little further back. He was your first little baby, he held such a special place in your heart, but now, he looked so different. It worried you, too.
He looked thinner, weaker. Little white streaks shined through in his red hair. Dark circles under his eyes, nothing like you had ever seen in a child. He smiled when he saw you, a gave a little wave.
You mouthed a greeting to him, able to tell his wasn't in a mood to talk. "Hello, sweetheart." He nodded and joined the others in the kitchen, dragging Shoto with him.
"Enji, I—"
"Not now," he said, almost brutal in his finality.
You blinked up at him, feeling your chest grow heavy and worried.
"Fine."
Fuyumi was such a lovely girl, and it filled your heart knowing how much she loved her party. She was so grateful for everything, the cake, the streamers, the presents. What made you happiest though, was her little hug before she went to bed.
"You gave the best gift, auntie," she said in a sleepy voice, holding onto you snuggly.
You chuckled and patted her head. "You liked the dollhouse, sweetheart? I knew you would."
"Not that," she yawned, tugging your sweater. "You were the gift. You came to my party, that was the best part. Maybe you can stay for longer? Please?"
Your heart melted into a little puddle at that, and you gave her squeeze. "Maybe I can," you said, sending her to bed with a kiss atop her head.
You watched her patter up the stairs, growing up so fast but still so little. All of them, really. Part of you hated how you had all ready missed so much of their lives. You were grateful to slip into the important moments, but still.
"They always ask about you, you know," your brother said, sliding behind you.
His body was warm, like a hug. Sometimes it teetered on hot and boiling, though, like a flame you cannot extinguish. For now, it was comforting.
You turned around with a hum, looking up at him. "I know. Don't think I don't miss them too."
He gave a huff. "If you miss them so much, why don't you move back here. You have no business in America anyways. Why you left, I can't figure out."
"I just needed something different, Enji. I told you before, this is not my home anymore. I'm happy." You poked his chest, hissing when you felt how firm it was. "We can't all be heroes," you teased. "Some of us have to find other paths. This is mine."
"It doesn't have to be. Life could be so simple for you, but you're so damn stubborn. It's safer here, and the kids love you. I'm asking you to come home, so why won't you?"
"You cannot have everything you want, Enji. I'm not a little girl you can boss around anymore, you know that, right?" again, teasing him.
He grumbled something under his breath about insolence and your stubbornness. An undercurrent of silence passed over the two of you, which was comforting at first, until you remembered Shoto's face. And Touya's eyes. And the flinching and shaking.
"What happened to his face?" you asked, crossing your arms around your chest.
Enji did not answer at first. His demeanor shifted, growing protective and callous. You knew it all too well: big brother guarding himself and shutting others out. Big and strong but not tough enough to have a real conversation. That's your Enji.
"It was an accident," he finally said.
You stared at him blankly. "And?"
His jaw clenched, swiping his teeth with his tongue in one broad stroke. "Rei lost control."
That made your anger hesitate for a moment, staggering behind. "What?"
"She burned him. She threw a kettle at him." His words came out short and mechanical, like he had repeated them too many times. They wore thin and inpatient. You wondered how many times he had to explain that, how many ways the explanation had been played and replayed. It made you feel sick.
You blinked hard. “Rei did that? She would never—”
“She did.” His voice sharpened. “I saw it myself.”
Gentle Rei, who wiped the children's mouths after every meal and kissed scraped knees and apologized to furniture when she bumped into it.
Rei, who spoke so softly that people had to lean in to hear her.
Rei, who begged you to take a seat after flying in to watch her give birth, saying how exhausted you must be all while she suffered contractions.
Your mind struggled to fit the image together. Then another thought came creeping in behind it, cold and ugly.
What had to happen for sweet, gentle Rei to reach that point?
Your eyes narrowed at your big brother, scanning over him with a mixture of disgust, anger, and exhaustion.
"What did you do?" you demanded pointedly.
His eyes narrowed immediately, "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. What did you do?"
"I did nothing."
"Enji." You had never spoken like this to anyone, let alone your brother. Your tone was splattered with anger—more than anger. The deepest fury and heartbreak you had ever felt.
Flames crackled faintly around his shoulders. Reflexive irritation. You remembered that from childhood too. Every time you duh through his private belongings or teased him too much, those little flames would ignite around his body, a physical warning of his anger to come.
“She's not sane,” he said. “The pressure became too much for her.”
"The pressure," you repeated.
"Yes."
"And who would be applying that pressure?" He went silent. Oh, God. "Please, no." You rubbed a hand over your mouth, exhausted. “What are you doing to that boy?"
“He has exceptional potential.”
“He is five," you said, tears welling in your eyes. "For God's sake, he's still a baby. He can't even read a watch, Enji!"
“He understands what is expected of him.”
“No,” you snapped. “Don't say that, you know very well that isn't true. He only understands what happens if he disappoints you, and telling by his face—" you broke into a sob, shoving your brother again, pushing against his chest with each word, "—he has good reason to be afraid."
He grabbed your wrist. Firm, but not tight. The room went deathly still. When you looked up at him with your teary eyes, you saw the Number Two Hero instead of your older brother. Towering, angry, and unmovable.
You knew your brother, though. You had known him since he was an angry little boy, throwing punches at walls because the world wouldn't hand him success. You saw every side of him, and you feared none of them. So you stepped closer to him, and got as much in his face as you could for someone much shorter.
"Every time you speak, he flinches. He shakes. Why?"
Enji faltered for a second, still keeping his grip on your wrist. "He's disciplined. There's nothing wrong with that."
"That baby is terrified and I don't blame him one bit!"
"My son is not afraid of me," Enji said, the flames around him sputtering hotter.
"Oh, he is. He's so afraid, so scared of you, but you know what?" You ripped your hand out of his grip and gave him a smack, harder than you intended. "I'm not. Never once have I been afraid of you! Do something, Enji. Get angry!"
He growled but kept his hands planted firmly at his sides. "You do not understand what it takes—”
“To do what?” you interrupted, eyes wide. “Create the perfect hero? Is that what this is?"
You let his silence be his answer.
"This is wrong," you said, quietly at first, but your voice rose. "Wrong and you know it!"
He cupped his hand over your mouth, "Quiet! What is wrong with you?!"
"How can you ask me that?" you screeched again, letting your smaller fists bang at his chest. "Hit me. If you want to hurt someone so bad, hurt me, but I'll be damned," you said through another sob, "if I let you act like that with them. That's not right, Enji, you know it's not."
You expected him to do something, to hit you. Burn you. Shove you away. Instead, he took you in his arms, letting you smack at him as your hits got weaker and weaker. You cried into your big brother's chest, sobs being silenced by the thick layer of muscle on him.
"I love you," he said, softly, face still hardened and stubborn.
Your hands slowly stilled against his chest.
The words should not have shocked you, but Enji had never been good at saying them. You knew he loved you, in his own clumsy, overbearing way, he always had.
He was the one who carried you home on his back after you scraped your knees as a child. The one who let you sleep in his bed for weeks after you watched a scary movie with your friends. The one who threatened your cheating high school boyfriend so badly that the guy almost pissed himself.
Enji loved hard and that was part of the problem.
You sniffled against him, fingers bunching into the fabric of his shirt. “Then why are you acting like this?”
He, of course, did not answer.
Your brother rested his chin atop your head with a tired exhale, his arms heavy around you. You hated how familiar it felt. Hated how easy it would be to sink into his arms and forget the horror sitting upstairs in four matching little bedrooms.
“I don't know how to do this,” he admitted quietly. "Not alone."
That made you freeze.
Enji Todoroki did not admit weakness. Not to anyone.
"You have Rei. You aren't alone unless you want to be. Confide it her, treat her like a co-parent," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"She's been admitted." He cleared his throat. "She's in a mental facility, and she will not be leaving. She wasn't safe, not after the accident."
Part of you was angry that your brute of a brother thought he had the right to call anyone unsafe, but you swallowed it down.
"Oh."
You wiped your face roughly with your sleeve and stepped away from your brother completely. The loss of his warmth felt immediate.
“You need to stop training Shoto.”
“No.” The answer came instantly.
You huffed once in disbelief, tears threatening again. “No—?"
“He is special.”
"They are all special," you said sharply. "You do not pick one child and pour everything into them, good or bad. Fuyumi and Natsuo act like they're responsible for everyone's feelings, and Touya is starving for your approval. Even with the attention, Shoto is terrified of you! None of this is right!"
He jaw ticked so tight that he teeth started to grind against each other.
"I need you here."
You sighed. "I cannot stay."
In the most humble display you had ever seen out of your prideful, angry, egotistic brother, he kneeled. Shrinking himself before you, he got on one knee and looked up at you.
"I need your help. I need you to stay. The kids, too. I cannot trust myself without you here. What do you want from me? Money? I can pay," he said, starting to ramble, "whatever you want. You just can't leave."
Ah, shit.
You loved being around the kids more, and Fuyumi was especially excited when you decided to extend you visit indefinitely. Thankfully, none of them had heard your, well, difficult conversation with their father the previous night.
Things were actually pretty smooth your first few days living with your brother. He already had a room prepared for you, strangely enough. Perhaps he had it in case you ever changed your mind about moving, which he always hoped you would. It was nice, likely one of the bigger rooms in the house. There were tokens of your childhood splattered about, pictures and awards and whatnot.
One of the first things you wanted to do was look for a job. Enji quickly shut that down.
"Your job is to stay home," he said over breakfast, sipping his coffee and waving the thought away. "The fact that you would even ask is mind-boggling."
"It doesn't feel right to stay here for free, Enji. I'm not a leech."
"You aren't," he agreed. "You are family."
So, instead, your days were filled with keeping up with the children. You played games with them, something no adult had ever done. Natsuo was shocked the first time you asked to join him in the backyard.
You told them stories about your childhood, what it was like as a young girl. You gave them the opportunity to hear about their father is a positive light, to feel something other than fear towards him, even if only in stories.
You tried to break the barrier between Touya and the rest of the family, but at fourteen, the boy was all ready hurt by the world and unwilling to open up. He did, however, show his love in his own way. Much like his father, he struggled showing his emotions, but every once in a while, a sticky note would find its way onto your door with a little heart and a "T" scribbled on it. Little crooked doodles in blue ink. Sometimes accompanied by things Touya thought you might like.
'Saw this flower outside, you should have it.' —T
'Natsuo stole the last popsicle again >:(' —T
Or, your personal favorite: 'You cook much better than Dad does.' —T
You kept every single note in the top drawer of your bedside table. One evening, when you were helping Fuyumi braid her hair before bed, you caught him lingering in the hallway outside your room.
“You alright?” you asked softly.
He shrugged.
Then, after a long pause: “Do you read them?”
“The notes?” You smiled. “Of course I do.”
He looked away so quickly that it almost gave you whiplash. “Oh.” That was all he said before disappearing down the hallway, ears faintly pink.
It broke your heart that such a little hint of approval could make him so flustered and happy. You were grateful to at least be the one to give it to him.
The children slowly changed with your presence. Natsuo became louder and more easily excited. Fuyumi laughed more freely and made mistakes that kids were supposed to make. Even Shoto started lingering close to your side like a shadow, silently handing you books to read to him or sitting beside you while you folded laundry. He never asked for affection directly, but every time you opened your arms for him, he climbed into them.
They were... happy. They were able to be kids, for once in their lives, without correction or sternness. The only problem with the kids was a hard one to tackle. They had taken to calling you "mom." It was a cute slip up from Shoto at first, and the poor boy was so embarrassed after.
"No, don't read that one," he whined softly, pushing a book out of your hands during story time. "Read this one, mommy!"
You paused for a moment, taking the book. "Ah—?"
His little face went red, flushed with humiliation. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I meant auntie, n—not mommy," he said, tripping over his words as he tried to explain himself.
"Shh, it's okay, I understand. Don't be embarrassed, sweetheart."
Unfortunately, he and all of his siblings took your understanding as permission.
"Mommy, will you brush my hair?" from Fuyumi.
"Mom, Touya won't share!" from Natsuo.
"I found this for you. Hope you like it, mom." from Touya behind your door, slipping a pretty rock under the crack.
It was all very sweet, and you didn't mind completely, but it just wasn't right. You weren't there to replace their mom, that wasn't your goal at all! Rei was a good mother, despite all her mistakes, and it would break your heart if the children forgot about her.
You couldn't tell them no, either, though. They were just so comfortable around you! The house felt less empty with you in it, and Enji...
Well, he watched. Not in a strange way, at first. He just liked having you around. You were his baby sister after all, and you made the house so much softer with just your presence.
You noticed his behavior, but tried to write it off. Probably just happy to have a little help, you thought. Still, it ate at you.
His eyes following you from across the dinner table while you laughed with the children. You swore you caught his eyes dipping down your shirt as you plated everyone's food.
The way he would pause in doorways when you were reading aloud to Shoto in the living room, remaining completely silent for several minutes before continuing on his way.
Sometimes you would look up while gardening outside and find him standing at the window, already looking at you.
It wasn't creepy, per se, just intense. Everything about the man was intense, but intense turned into weird very quickly.
You mentioned offhandedly over dinner how the pillows in your room were too firm. When you returned home the next day, you were met with an entirely new mattress with softer pillows.
Fuyumi asked if there was anything you missed about America, and when you told her about a candy you used to love, your nightstand was full of it the next day.
One afternoon, you stared too long at a dress in a storefront window while taking Shoto into town. It appeared hanging in your closet two days later. With matching shoes.
You confronted Enji immediately, horrified.
“Why would you spend so much on this?!”
He barely looked up from his paperwork. “If you like something, you should have it.”
“That isn't the point at all! That is so irresponsible," you said, urging him to return it.
"I took you from the life you wanted, and I want to give you the life you deserve as an apology. If you want something," he repeated, "you will have it."
You gave in and accepted the gift, because what exactly were you supposed to say to that? It wasn't malicious, just Enji. Too much of Enji. The ease of your life was starting to creep down your back. Everything was handed to you, which sounded like a dream, until you realized that someone had to be pulling the strings.
One night, you creeped down the stairs, unable to sleep. The house was dark, but peaceful. You nearly screamed when you found Enji sitting alone in the living room.
He was still dressed in his hero uniform, massive frame slumped against the couch. The television played muted in front of him, though he clearly was not watching it.
He looked exhausted. Empty.
“You're awake,” he said quietly.
“So are you,” you replied, clutching your robe tighter. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry.”
You hesitated before sitting beside him. For a while, neither of you spoke. A comfortable silence, with only a hint of anxiety lingering in the air.
“You're happier here,” he said eventually.
You glanced at him. “What?”
“You smile more.”
Your chest tightened. "I like being with the kids. I really did miss them. It's nice."
His gaze lingered on your face for a second too long. “It's more than that.”
You laughed nervously and nudged his arm. “You sound creepy when you say things like that.”
“I mean it.” Enji leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. Even sitting down, he was enormous. “You belong here,” he said.
You tried to brush it off. “I can't stay forever."
“In America, nobody takes care of you.”
“I take care of myself just fine," you said, trying to reassure both him and yourself.
“You shouldn't have to.”
You suddenly remembered the room he already had prepared for you before you arrived. The clothes in your closet. The way he refused to let you work. How quickly the children had attached themselves to you. How every part of this house seemed to be made specifically for your comfort, as if a space had already been carved out for you before you agreed to stay.
Enji finally looked at you again. Softly, he said, "I knew you'd come back eventually, now we can start over."
You jumped up quickly as Enji slipped his uniform off. "What are you doing?!"
"It's not too late to start over. I can do better this time, since you're here. We can all start over."
"I knew it wouldn't work with Rei," Enji said breaking the kiss. Your lips were bleeding now and swollen. "She wasn't made to handle it. She shattered, wasn't good for the children, but you're perfect."
He had been like this for hours, silencing your sobs with kisses or his fingers, all while he mumbled into your ears.
"I only wish they were really your kids. Shoulda never let you leave, I had plans for us." He shoved his tongue into your mouth again, forcing your tongue to intertwine with his before he fucked into your throat, feeling every inch of your mouth.
There was no possible escape. His body was big, bigger than you remembered. Years of strength training and hero work made him too toned and heavy to wriggle out from.
You moaned, using your fists to hit his back and get him off of you, but it was futile. For as much stamina as he had, you could tell he was starting to get tired. Maybe just a few more minutes and he would be done. If you could take it for just a bit longer, maybe—
"Was always supposed to be you. But we have another chance now, my love. Can make it right and give you more kids."
Your cunt betrayed you and squelched against him, gushing with each of his thrusts.
"Oh, you like that idea, huh? Wanna be full of my babies, stay home pregnant and barefoot forever?"
"No," you whined, tears streaming down your face.
"C'mon," he said through a deep groan, letting his pace get sloppy, "don't lie to me. You think I don't know you love this?"
He groped your belly with one hand and pushed your leg up with the other. He was too deep, pummeling against your cervix like a man crazed.
"Besides, you weren't complaining when we were younger. Comin' into my room at night and touchin' me, bringing home random guys. You were asking for your big brother's cock then. Still want it now?"
❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: stuckage (aka you get stuck and fucked), major dub-con, some ass play, spitting (on your ass), degradation, creampie, Enji is dirty and mean and he's really not sorry for it
→ Kinktober Masterlist ←
The sink of spandex between your thighs reminds him of why you are such a vexation. Fabric stretches across the mound of your cunt as you struggle, a perfect contour of what lies just out of reach.
“Finally found something you can’t escape, hm?”
Enji hears your scoff echo across the panes of the air duct, elbows pinging the metal as you try to shift your weight.
You won’t slip away. Not this time.
“Pull me out,” your hips arch and shake with your demand.
The hero claws inside his chest, your plea reaching his sensibilities. But the curve of your thick, open legs strokes a more sinister flame in the pit of his stomach.
“Where’s the fun in that? I’ve chased you for long enough.” He deserves a reward.
For a cat burglar, he expected you to be more clever. Yet here you are, stuck at the waist in the old factory’s ventilation, in a hole your thighs were never going to breach no matter how much you struggled.
Now he gets to be the judge and jury of your punishment.
“Almost like you wanted to be caught,” he muses to himself as he finally gives in to the itch to sink his fingers into the fat of your ass.
Your gasp sounds like the hiss of air down the duct, shrill and quick. You’re not a naive villain—you know what’s coming.
Blunt nails scrape against your costume, black threads splitting with just a fraction of the force he can give.
Your skin spreads into view like a ripe fruit being peeled. Sweet flesh is already dripping as he snaps away the spandex over your cunt, a thrill sparking in his cock at the sight of your pussy lips opening as you wiggle yourself in his hold.
“Oh you fucking pervert! Let me go!”
He could. He should. He won’t.
Intentions are made clear when his massive hand cups your cunt, thumb rubbing over your asshole as he grips your body, shoving you tighter into your trap.
You grunt and groan, shoulders thumping against metal. You seem to be testing your flexibility in a guise to rub yourself back against the palm of his hand. Your wetness smears against his skin, labia spreading against callouses.
He presses his hand until he finds the swell of your clit. A muffled moan makes him rub hard, hard enough to have a muscle in your thigh clenching and shaking.
Grinning, he spits a string of saliva to drip down onto your ass, moving his thumb just enough to catch the lubrication and smother it against your puckered hole. He dips his thick digit into your ass and delights at how you buck back against him.
“You’re a better whore than a thief.”
There’s no denial, just short moans against metal at each thrust of his thumb into your ass. He twists the digit in your tight cavern, moving his fingers away from your cunt so he can watch your pussy clench in anticipation of more.
You’re a prettier sight than he imagined, already messy, body begging for his touch. He’s had many frustrated nights fisting his dick to dreams of catching you.
Enji toys with you just long enough to get his cock fully hard and aching.
You whine as he pulls away, hips pushing back like you’re searching for him, desperate and needy.
He keeps quiet as he unbuckles his suit, wrapping his cock in his hand and pumping, squeezing his fingers around the base of his cockhead.
Taking advantage of you shouldn’t turn him on so much, yet his balls feel heavy as he watches you panic, unable to see the world behind you.
Your head clinks against the air duct, your trapped hands slapping against the bottom.
“En…Endeavor? Please. Please don’t leave me like this.”
He hates that he won’t be able to see the look in your eyes when he fucks you, but it’s too much of a risk to let you free. You’ll slip away like every time before.
You purr with comfort when he grips your ass, pulling at the fat until your pussy is spread to hungry, flaming eyes.
He bursts your relief by prodding his cock into your wetness. Your cunt clenches at the feel of him and he can practically smell your fear.
“I’m not going anywhere, little whore.”
It takes a few purposeful thrusts to get his thick cock to push inside you, your cunt stretching and burning at his intrusion. He doesn’t care to hurt you, mean hands wrapping around your thighs and using your weight to pull your pussy down his cock.
He doesn’t want you ready, he wants to feel your struggle, feel the tightness of your pussy as he punishes you.
Whimpering as he finally gets his length inside you, you grind back against him. He can’t tell if you’re trying to push him out or pull him in.
It doesn’t matter what you want; what matters is what you can give him.
Your pussy starts to gush as he begins his pace—quick, deep, balls slapping against your clit.
Enji’s fascinated by the sight of your wet flesh dragging along his length, sucking so securely it’s like you’re afraid he’s going to leave again.
“I’ve got you,” he sneers in some twisted sense of heroism.
Your reply moan is bubbly, as if you’ve resigned yourself to take whatever you can get.
He pulls your hips up, squishing your body to the top of the air duct as he gets into the heat of his stride. He’s blinded by the pleasure of your warm, went cunt, lost to the primal urge to take, to use.
It’s too easy to abuse you. So small, so exposed. You’re putty in his hands as he spreads you apart even wider, shreds of fabric shuddering against the bounce of your ass.
You sound like an animal trapped in the wall, yelping and cooing all the same as his fat cockhead bullies into your depths.
“You like being a cocksleeve,” he grunts, “your cunt’s so fucking wet.”
Cream is building at his base, smearing into red curls. Your stomach flutters at his words and he realizes he can feel himself in your core.
He could break you if he isn’t careful.
Yet he doesn’t slow down, barely breaking a sweat as he pushes harder, faster, jaw clenching as he chases his high.
He drops one of your thighs, pulling the other higher around his waist as he pounds a fist into the brick wall. The new leverage has your body slipping farther down the chute, trapping you more snugly.
“P-please,” you pant, nails scraping against the metal prison, “I c-can’t take it…”
“Don’t fucking care. You’re cunt’s mine.”
Your ass ripples as his muscular thighs slap against yours, slick dripping into the rips of your costume.
“Such a stupid little girl. This is what happens when you, ah, run from me.”
He can’t hear any response over the wet slap of skin against skin, the slurp of your greedy cunt.
Putting his hips flush to yours, he grinds into your cunt, so deep he knows it hurts.
His hand scrapes up your thigh, big fingers searching for your clit. When his index finger swirls against your swollen bud, you scream, the sound reverberating like a confession in your trap.
Enji presses his forehead to the wall, eyes closing as he feels hot pleasure starting to build in his balls, twitching in his cock.
“Go on,” he pinches your clit between his fat fingers, “cum, cum little whore.”
Your body starts to shake as you whimper, thighs quivering as you lose control. He rubs two fingers against your clit as he pushes harder into you, motions getting sloppy.
Enji grunts, “I said cum, fucking cum.”
He slams into you so roughly that he hears the air duct creak from his pressure. He puts his focus into filling you, stretching you, letting you feel his cockhead spear against the abused, gummy spots inside your cunt.
Your orgasm is rough, sputtering, slick gushing against where he invades the tight suck of your pussy. You thrash against his hold and whine like a bitch in heat, rolls and smashes of pleasure fissuring down every nerve, making your legs kick.
Against every lingering heroic instinct, Endeavor lets himself fill your guts with his cum.
He feels like a volcanic eruption, spewing flames from his skin and molten cum from his balls. You keep him sucked tight as he unloads, cum spilling from the tight squeeze and down your thighs.
His chest heaves with deep breaths, blue eyes opening to stare down at the havoc he’s wrecked.
Your poor body is limp, lodged around his impaling cock. Sweat, cum, and slick drip down your thighs, his fingerprints bruised into your skin. Your costume has come apart even more, peeling down your legs like he’s ripped you apart.
He wonders for a moment if you’ve suffocated; if he’s fucked you to death.
After a few moments, you stir, one weak hand knocking against the air duct.
“For the love of god…” you choke.
Heating the metal just enough to make it malleable, he bends the air duct away from your sweaty, shaking body. Then he tugs you without care, letting you fall onto the floor before his feet.
“Suck me clean.”
A dumb girl would’ve run on shaky, messy legs. But like the smart girl you are, you get on your knees and pop his heavy cock between your lips.
He smirks at the mess of makeup on your face as you look up at him, tongue flat as you lick his cum from underneath his shaft.
Enji grips the hair on the back of your head, shoving your face down to his balls for you to suck the mess you’ve made.
“Not gonna run again, are you?”
“I might,” your moan vibrates against oversensitive skin, “if it means I get your cock again.”
Cant stop thinking about reader being Shotos quirkless twin sister, born minutes after her brother.
Already being considered lesser than her brother by their father because she’s a girl, only to have her fathers disappoint and anger grow tenfold once it’s discovered that’s she doesn’t have a quirk, a stain marring the Todoroki family’s prestine and powerful image.
At least he gets a son with the perfect quirk as compensation, a successor to take his place and one day surpass Allmight, even if he now has to try and hide away his youngest child from the public eye, worried people might think him and his genes weak for having created such a powerless offspring.
Thinking of Yandere!Enji wanting to keep you locked up and out of sight, to protect both his reputation as well as his fragile, defenceless youngest daughter from a world full of villains ready and waiting to take advantage of a weak little thing like you, his paranoia of losing you going over the deep end after Touyas death disappearance.
Even with his focus on Shoto’s training, building him up to be a worthy successor, he can’t let you roam around freely like your older siblings, Fuyumi and Natsuo; whilst not having any combat training, they at the very least have quirks to protect themselves with if they need to.
You on the other hand need to be protected by your father. He may not be the best dad around, but when its just the two of you he can pretend for a moment he’s the kind of guardian and source of safety that children should view their parent as, bringing out unfamiliar paternal instincts within the man.
Having you around strokes his ego, making him feel even more powerful compared to your delicate self, a big, strong protector watching over his little girl, the proud lion guarding an innocent little lamb.
Yandere!Shoto feeling just as protective over his twin, but expressing it differently. He doesn’t just want you safe, he wants to see you happy. (Although, if a choice had to be made between your safety and happiness, Shoto would find himself in a position more similar to his fathers then he would like to admit.) Despite Endeavours best efforts to keep him isolated from his siblings (and you from the world) no one could truly take you from him, his angel sister, who came into the world with him and would continue to stay by his side for the rest of his life if he has his way. You’re his other half, the both of you two sides of the same coin. He believes he was born with such a powerful quirk so that he would be strong enough to always look after you, working himself to the bone when training to become the next No. 1 Pro Hero so that he’ll be strong enough to protect you from anything that might try to take you from him.
Unlike Endeavour, Shoto doesn’t want to keep you locked in a cage like a sad little pet bird, he wants to see you joyful and free (so long as he’s there to watch over you.) He wants to pay you back for all the years that you would sneak into his room after painful and gruelling training sessions with his father, your fingers running through his duel coloured hair and tracing soothing patterns onto his back as you hold him in your arms and comfort him, telling him how loved he is and that he will never be alone. He holds onto you like a lifeline, because without you there is no him. In Shotos eyes, it’s the two of you against the world, and he would rather die then part from his twin.
