ft. bakugo, kirishima, denki, shoto, shinsou, hawks, mirko, aizawa, dabi
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ ∂єηкι
denki thinks you’re the cutest thing ever. he calls you “kitty” constantly and makes way too many cat puns.
loves filming your tail when it swishes or flicks, insisting it’s “the best mood tracker ever.”
scratches behind your ears until you melt into his lap, giggling at how fast you purr.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ ѕнσтσ
shoto is fascinated. he studies your ears and tail with quiet curiosity, asking if they’re sensitive, if they change with temperature, if they need extra care.
he strokes your ears gently when you’re tired, murmuring, “you’re so soft.”
he actually finds your tail comforting. sometimes he wraps it around his wrist while you two talk, as if grounding himself in your presence.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ вαкυgσ
pretends your ears and tail don’t phase him, but he loves them. secretly finds them adorable, especially when they twitch with your emotions.
he teases you by tugging gently at your tail just to see you hiss at him. “calm down, kitty, i’m just playin’.”
sometimes he catches himself scratching behind your ears. when you start purring, he nearly combusts.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ ѕнιηѕσυ
shinsou lights up the first time he sees your ears. “you’re literally my dream girl,” he mutters, not even trying to hide it.
he can read your mood instantly. when your ears droop, when your tail lashes. it makes him protective in this quiet, grounding way.
constantly pets your ears, murmuring about how soft you are. he uses it to calm himself down, too.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ кιяιѕнιмα
kirishima adores your quirk. he gushes over how “manly and cute” your ears are, stroking them gently every chance he gets.
he laughs when your tail swishes, calling it “your mood ring.” he can always tell how you’re feeling just by watching it.
loves curling up with you for naps, your tail wrapping around his waist as you both doze.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ мιякσ
rabbit meets cat - she adores it. she teases you constantly, calling you “pussycat” or “fuzzy.”
strokes your ears without warning, testing your reactions, laughing when you hiss and swat at her.
secretly thinks you’re the sweetest thing when you curl up in her lap, tail flicking lazily.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ нαωкѕ
absolutely loses it over your ears and tail. “are you kidding me? cutest damn thing i’ve ever seen.”
flicks your ears playfully, calling you “kitten” every chance he gets.
loves how expressive your tail is. teases you whenever it swishes while you’re annoyed. “aw, tail’s telling on you again.”
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ αιzαωα
aizawa acts nonchalant, but your quirk makes him melt. he scratches behind your ears absentmindedly, the same way he does with cats, and smirks when you start purring.
loves when you curl up against him like an actual cat. especially when he’s napping in his sleeping bag and you sneak inside with him.
your tail becomes his favorite “tether.” he loops it around his wrist or holds it while walking with you.
𐔌𖾕𖾝꙼ᩚ𛲕𖾟꒱ ∂αвι
dabi smirks the first time he notices your ears twitch. “cute. guess i can tell when you’re lying now.”
he tugs your tail when you sass him, just to watch you yelp. “relax, kitten. i’m not gonna break it… unless you want me to.”
secretly loves it when you curl up against him, tail wrapped around his waist. it makes him feel claimed.
silent but dangerous. you don’t even realize he’s watching until the toy’s pulled from your hand and he’s crouched between your thighs, tongue already lapping it clean. he’ll murmur against your core, “didn’t i tell you to wait for me?” and then the toy’s getting used again, this time with his tongue on your clit.
꒰ 𝐇𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐬 ꒱
oh honey. he’s so down bad. he flies home early just to find you fucking yourself with a toy? he leans against the doorframe all smug and flirty. “damn, babybird… makin’ a mess without me?” then he’s kneeling. tongue out, feather-light licks from base to tip. moaning. worshipping it like he’s jealous of the toy. “don’t worry, sweetheart. i’ll clean up every drop. then i’m gonna make you do it again. for me.”
꒰ 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐤𝐨 ꒱
rumi loves when you get yourself off. she’ll sit back, legs spread, hand between her thighs, watching you like it’s her favorite show. but when you cream like that? she’s on it instantly. “aw, fuck yeah. look at you makin’ a mess. c’mere.” she’ll suck the toy clean, then suck it right out of you. “now let me show you how a real woman eats.”
꒰ 𝐃𝐚𝐛𝐢 ꒱
he’s all slow, mocking drawl, “you got off this hard from some plastic? shit, baby… you’re even dirtier than i thought.” and then he drags his tongue along it. doesn’t even blink. his eyes are locked on yours while he licks up every creamy drop. then he’ll stick the toy in your mouth and say, “taste what i’m about to fuck back into you.”
꒰ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐢 ꒱
dirty. filthy. obsessed. he doesn’t just lick it, he savors it. watches the way your slick glistens on it, strokes the toy in his hand like he’s imagining it’s his cock inside you. his tongue is lazy, wet, and he’s got this creepy little smirk, “didn’t i tell you i wanted to see how wrecked you’d get without me? now be good and let me clean it up.”
Synopsis: After a hot night at the club with your girlfriend, you catch the eye of another baddie just like your favorite bunny hero. She's also just as posessive and dominant. What happens when you get both muscle mommies both in the bedroom for a fantasy fit for heaven?
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Reader Has Braids; Threesome; Girl on Girl on Girl lol; Strangers to Lovers; After-The-Club Sex; Pussy-Eating; Facesitting; Strength Kink; Muscle Worship; Wetness; Clit Stimulation; Edging; Orgasm Denial; Mommy Kink; Legs Up; Spanking; Spitting; Pussy Spanks; Dom!Mirko x sub!Reader x Dom!Semiu; Sharing is Caring; Reader Cums 2x; Free Use!Reader; Aftercare; Strap Sex Talk; Cliffhanger Ending teehee
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: I feel so fucking bad that I didn't get a chance to put more fics out for Pride Month 😔😔 This month has truly been one of the busiest so far. BUT I'm happy to get this one out for y'all at least! This is my very first Mirko fic & there will be plenty more later on cuz that's my waifu fr. I hope y'all enjoy! -love, Jazz
Credits: Divider by @pixopix!
“So you think you can take us both, cutie?”
Your girlfriend stands before you, all lean muscle underneath her mesh, deep-cut top that exposes her delectable tits and lean stomach sinewy with abs. She is smirking down at you in a way that is so knowing and teasing while you try to focus on both her AND the short-haired bombshell standing next to her.
"U-Um…I could try." You try to laugh, but it comes out nervous and breathy even as your panties are more soaked than they were at the club earlier tonight. You know you have bitten off more than you can chew with these two baddies...and the two baddies in question know that.
The short-haired woman standing beside your girlfriend raises a curious brow above her spectacles that remind you a little of owl eyes, so big and round. "Hm. You seemed so confident at the club. Was it the Don Julio?"
She wears the same smile as your girlfriend, something the pro bunny hero Mirko, your Rumi, is known for. Like Rumi, your guest is all lean muscle with curves in all right places. Her cotton candy white hair and alluring yellow eyes are what drew you in, other than how gorgeous her dark skin looked under the lights of the club.
"Semiu" she said her name was when Rumi asked her. The night was hot and sticky. Just as sticky as Rumi's passion fruit-flavored lipgloss pressed against your lips; juicy and sweet. You had been kissing all night, wrapped up in each other among the throb of music and the push of dancing bodies on the dancefloor, the alcohol and Rumi's perfume fueling you.
She looked so hot tonight. All eyes were on her AND you pushed against each other, hips grinding and hands grabbling at each other's hips and asses. Hers groped your ass under your mini dress while she pushed against you, her sweat sticking with yours, Hennessy and rum on her tongue.
You felt Semiu's eyes on you before you actually saw her. They were like hot lasers on your back, making you feel flush the way the strobe lights did. You turned, finding her sitting at the bar, arms slung over the bar and her thighs spread in her hip-hugging jeans like she owned the place.
And the way she stared at you...she stared like she already owned you and you didn't know it yet. It was so brazen. So bold. So daring, even when you were locked against Rumi with her lips on your neck. Drunk from the seduction and the Don Julio you consumed, you turned to your girlfriend and tugged on her bunny ears.
"Hey," you said over the music, grinning at her. "Remember that thing we talked 'bout before? 'Bout pickin' somebody up?"
Rumi understood immediately and the corner of her glossy lips turned up into a smirk. "Sure thing, babes. Who caught your eye?" You nodded at Semiu who was still staring, sipping on her drink. "Her," you whispered into Rumi's bunny ear.
Rumi hummed in interest, checking out the stranger. "She's been starin' at you all night, y'know. If she wasn't so damn hot, I would've beat her ass."
And so you went over to Semiu and invited her into your little club romp for some drinks and a night of dancing. When you found yourself sandwiched between both women on the floor, you felt that push and pull of two dominants trying to fight over you and mark their territory.
When Rumi pressed her front against your back, her teeth nibbling your neck, Semiu gripped your hips and licked down your throat where a trail of salt from her tequila laid. "Thanks for lettin' me join y'all," she whispered against your trembling neck. "What's next for tonight? You two headin' home?"
Rumi overheard the dark-skinned woman and smirked, answering for you. Only because you were too speechless to do so. "And why you wanna know? You interested in a nightcap?"
Semiu smirked at your girlfriend, taking on the challenge. "And what if I was?" She chuckled, staring into your eyes, the sparks of lust in hers making you weak. "Your girl seems to like that idea, don't you, cutie? Would it really be such a shame to be shared between two bad bitches?"
'No,' you decided and took a shot for the road before hurrying out into an Uber with the two women, kissing and touching in the backseat. Semiu's fingers toying with your thighs while Rumi rubbed your pussy in her lap, making Semiu watch and sloppily kiss you.
You know they both would've probably fucked you in the backseat if you hadn't gotten back to your crib with Rumi so quickly. The idea of the both of them slutting you out was a fantasy you couldn't resist, but know that you're here, you realize that the booze was speaking for you.
Rumi chuckles as she watches you kneel on the bed, staring so obediently up at her. "That always gets her wet. Why do you think I always order it?" She had pumped you up with tequila all night, knowing it made you loose and horny. You feel like you're about to explode the more these two tease you.
Semiu clucks her tongue, acting disappointed. "That’s so messy. All to see your girl be a slut for a whole other woman?" She reaches out and touches your hair, moving a braid back behind your ear. You shiver at her touch.
Rumi doesn't even try to hide her freakiness. "Absolutely. You just need to remember who owns her." Her golden eyes flash at Semiu, but the dark-skinned woman isn't intimidated. You sense that Semiu can hold her own and has had her fair share of threesomes in her days with plenty of pretty women after the club or the bar.
Rumi turns to you, staring down at you with a look dripping with hot lust and posessiveness. "That goes for you too, sweet thing. No cumming for her without MY permission, understood?" She cups your chin in her hand, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp.
It doesn't hurt, but it makes you so wet that you have to control yourself, thinking of nothing but her holding your neck while Semiu eats your pussy, forcing you to take it. "Y-Yes, miss." Your voice is soft and weak when you answer her so obediently. Submissively.
Rumi smiles, proud of you, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. Semiu watches on, interested, her pierced nipples hard beneath her flimsy top. "Oh, she’s that kinda girlfriend. I do love my girls obedient."
Your girlfriend aburptly frowns, her expression sharp. "Obedient to ME. Mind your place, girl. You’re a guest, sure, but you’ll be goin’ home after tonight." Semiu scoffs and tosses up her hands adorned with rings and gold bangles. "Goddamn, fine! Now are we gonna sit here and argue or have a taste of this cutie?"
They both turn to you now, eyes hot with lust, dripping with a night of alcohol and grinding on the dancefloor now blown off with some steamy sex. With you. These two gorgeous vixens could've had anyone else tonight, but they chose you.
So you are determined to make tonight one that they will never forget.
"Strip," Rumi demands and you do so, immediately slinking out of your skin-tight dress with the sexy cheetah print you like. Rumi helps you slide it past your heels, loving it when she fucks you with your heels on, your pretty painted toes up by her ears with her tongue in your pussy or her strap deep inside you.
Semiu hums in enjoyment as she drinks in your body, from your bra to your lace thong, your brown skin soft with coco butter and your body smelling like fruity body mist. She and Rumi come out their clothes too, leaving them discarded on the floor. You greedily drink in their muscles: abs and biceps; thick yet toned thighs; the curves of their perky tits and firm, juicy asses.
They are perfection. And under their gazes, you feel like perfection to them too.
In a blink, you are lying on your back, eyes gazing up at their supreme asses in their panties. Rumi wears a thong while Semiu has on simple lace panties, her asscheeks jiggling so enticingly out of them. She reaches down to stroke your cheek, playing with your bottom lip. "You’re such a good girl for her, cutie. Maybe you can show me what makes you so special," she whispers.
You shiver with anticipation, knowing what is coming next. You were feening for this part, just as much as the rest of tonight. You nod, smiling, fully prepared to have their sugary tastes on your tongue. You can lick on their muscles later. Right now, you want nothing more than to lick on their pussies.
Rumi hovers over you, pressing a loving hand to your cheek. "And you're gonna be a good girl and make us both feel real good, right?" she coos. You nod, smiling up at her, shivering with arousal. "Y-Yes," you whimper.
The prospect of tasting both women is a blessing that you will not turn a blind eye to. Any man and women would be happy to be in your place right now. Rumi smirks, knowing this, and squeezes your cheeks together with her posessive hand. "Then shut up and stick out that tongue f'me."
You do so, sticking your tongue out as far as it can go, allowing Rumi to suck on it before spitting into your mouth. "You know where to put it," she purrs before she pulls her panties down, revealing her sobbing wet pussy to you squeezed between her tanned brown thighs. Gorgeous. Even Semiu is impressed with the sight.
Before you know it, your girlfriend is sitting on your face with her thighs trapping you between them while Semiu is busy slipping your panties off. While you can't see her through Rumi's incredible ass in your face, you can imagine her knelt between your thighs with her ass sticking up in the air, her glasses foggy as she gazes at your pussy. "Let's see if you can focus with my tongue in you, cutie~"
You shiver as Semiu's breath caresses your thighs and the sensitive folds of your pussy. Even the slight brush of wind will make you cum at this point. "Just don't mess up my nut," Rumi huffs, glaring back at your guest. "Or I'll mess up yours." Semiu scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Where's your sense of fun, bunny? Your girl seems like love the idea of me eatin' her out."
And you do. Especially once Semiu actually gets her tongue in you. You find that she has a tongue piercing when you feel the cold metal press against your clit, making you jump. She chuckles into your dripping hole, her tongue wicked and addictive, caressing every part of you as her hands greedily grip your hips.
Meanwhile, you girlfriend is grinding her pussy into your mouth, making you take every inch of it in your mouth. You just love it when Rumi sits on your face, makes you take all that she gives you. "Mmm, fuck, that's it, baby," Rumi moans. "Just love it when you make me feel so good."
She flips her long, white hair back as her ass grinds into your face, riding it like a surfboard. She looks back at you, cheeks flushed and eyes fiery with lust, her hands massaging her perky tits. "You love eatin' that pussy, don't you, sweet girl?" she coos.
You moan into her pussy, making her whine at the vibrations. Every drip of her nectar on your tongue quenches you, but also makes you crave more. You reach up to grip her firm yet soft ass, the weight of it driving you to insanity. "Uh-huh!" you whimper into your dripping folds. "I wove it, Mommy!"
Semiu giggles from between your thighs as Rumi moans, tossing her head back when your tongue licks her faster. "A Mommy kink too?" she chuckles. "How scandelous....that makes me so fuckin' wet."
Rumi lets out a throaty chuckle, slowing her fast grinding to more slow ones that drag her wetness across your tastebuds. "Well," she sighs, "I guess since we sharin', you can sit on her face...for a bit."
Semiu looks up from your pussy, using one of her fingers to rub your clit while she thinks on this. "How kind of you to share your girl with me," she chuckles. "Let's just hope she don't get addicted."
Unfortunately, you end up becoming hooked like an addict when you get a taste of Semiu's pussy for the first time. She switches with Rumi and sits on your face, her tits and pierced, brown nipples in your face. You yearn to taste him; tweak each perky nipple squeezed between the silver balls with your tongue and teeth.
But you simply watch them bounce as Semiu rides your face, grinding her gorgeous cunt in a nest of trimmed white curls against your greedy tongue. "Fuuuck, girl, that tongue!" she groans. "You ain't too bad at this, cutie, y'know that?"
The praise fills you with utter joy and self-confidence, making your tongue lashes grow more intense and erratic as Semiu rides your tongue like she stole it from Rumi. Speaking of Rumi, the woman is eating your cunt off of the bone, her wickedly long tongue slurping at your dripping juices down to your asscrack.
You whimper and moan into Semiu's pussy as each tingle of pleasure coarses through you like waves. Rumi always knows just how to please you and revert you to nothing but a whimpering slut. "Those are cute sounds you're makin', baby," she giggles. "Keep 'em up. Mommy loves 'em...and all this gush you're givin' me."
She then uses her tongue to dip into your hole, aiming up to lick your internal clit. It's enough to make her eyes roll back and your hips buck up into her tongue. "Hey." Tap-tap. Semiu gently pats your cheek, just enough to smack you back to reality: her on top of you. "Don't stop. Eat that pussy if you want more of me later."
Lucky for you, you do get more of her and Rumi. The two end up switching spots, both of them planting their wet pussies on your waiting tongue, grinding to their hearts content. You are determined to make one or both of them cum, even as your jaw aches and your lips grow sticky with their gush.
Even as they make the bed shake when they bounce their asses on your tongue, practically humping your face. Their throaty, low moans fill the air, no doubt making the neigbors jealous and horny to join. Luckily for you, you manage to make Semiu cum first while Rumi busies herself eating your pussy again, bringing you closer to the edge.
Semiu's moans fill the air, loud and worthy of one of those ebony lesbian porn flicks that you've watched with Rumi before, her abs slick with sweat as she rides you to orgasm. "Fuck, that's it, baby! Make me cum!" she gasps, until finally, she explodes all over your tongue.
You swallow every bit of her, licking her up like a dripping ice cream cone. She is sweet just like one with a bit of salt to her too. It's intoxicating. Finally, she rolls off of you, allowing you to breathe, and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips that makes her head spin. "Good girl," she coos. "Now it's your turn. But I get to make you cum."
You shiver at the prospect of cumming for the gorgeous woman while Rumi simply glares, sitting up between your legs. "Says who?" she grunts, but Semiu is already scooting the bunny hero out of the way and tossing your legs open.
Rumi scoffs, still glaring as Seimu spits on your pussy, coating it in her saliva to make it drip and shine for her. "You could've asked nicely," she growls. "Fine, but only 'cause I don't wanna disappoint my girl. You'd better make her feel extra good then."
Semiu simply smirks at the bunny hero, all fire and self-assurance. "Don't you worry, girl. I've got my ways of makin' this pretty gal scream for me."
Several minutes later, Semiu shows you her trickers with that pierced tongue of hers. You lean back against Rumi's tits as Semiu swirls her tongue in your dripping, swollen folds, sucking on your clit with those soft, glossy lips. You whimper and moan against Rumi's chest, her strong hands holding your arms back while Semiu has your thighs cracked open as wide as they can go, making you spill all over the bedspread.
"Such a naughty girl you got here, Rumi," Semiu giggles against your clit. "Just look at how wet she is!" Rumi tuts as if she's disappointed in her girl being so messy, gushing all over herself in such an obscene way. "And all for another bitch," she tsks. "I'm startin' to feel some typa way, baby."
Her hand moves to your neck to grab your throat while Semiu angles her tongue up inside of you, making you gasp. "O-O-Oh, fuck!" you wail, squeezing your eyes shut in pure pleasure. "F-Fu-uh...you...oh, shhhit, yes!"
Semiu stares at you from behind the foggy lenses of her glasses, watching you writhe against your girlfriend with her hand locked around your throat. "You sound so cute, baby," she hums into your pussy. "Can't wait to hear how you sound when I fuck you."
Yes. The fucking part. The part where they finally take their straps and fill you up...hopefully. You're happy with just getting eaten like a dessert plate, but you're also a greedy ass bitch, so you'd hope to end the night with getting dicked down by the two pretty women, just enough to have to walking side to side the next day with a smile on your face.
Surprisingly, Rumi doesn't bark at Semiu for the comment. You'd figure she'd take it as disrespect, but instead, she says something else that shocks you. "You got some fingers, don'tcha? Go 'head, put 'em in her. She can take it, right, mamas?" She tilts your head up to look at her, seeing her wicked smirk before she plants her lips on you.
She kisses you dumb, shoving her fat, long tongue into your mouth just as Seimu sinks a finger inside of you. You gasp at the feeling, your toes curling as she begins to finger fuck you in between slurping your pussy, moaning with your buzzing clit in her mouth. When she adds another slim digit into your dripping hole, you damn near lose your shit, your soul leaving your body.
You moan and grabble for Rumi's arms, gripping them as Seimu continues to slurp your soul out of you through your pussy, making you pool all over the bedspread and your thighs shake. "A-Ah! Oh, fuck, I'mma cum!" you whine. "Please, please make me cum!"
Rumi tuts adoringly at your sweetness, gently patting your cheek. "So polite. Even slutted out of her mind, she can't help but be so sweet." But she trained you that way. Rumi wouldn't have her girl any other way but sweet and submissive, begging to cum even when you can obviously do it on your own without waiting for permission.
So you ask her, "May I cum, Mommy? Please, please?" You whimper the words out, unable to coherently speak as Semiu's tongue flicks grow more intense, the sounds of it sloshing around in your soaked pussy drifting through the air.
Rumi smiles down at you, adoringly and proudly. "Of course you can, mama," she chuckles, gently stroking your braids. "Go 'head and cum for our guest. Just rmembers whose pussy that is when you do, okay?"
And with that confirmation, you allow yourself to gush all over Semiu's tongue like a tidalwave, your moans loud and bouncing off the bedroom walls as you cum. Semiu takes it all, moaning greedily as she slurps up your mess from the source until your head spins. Rumi holds you close, her muscular arms wrapped tight around you as Semiu finishes up licking you clean until your moans grow weak and soft.
"Hm," Rumi hums, eyeing the way you slump against her, totally spent. "Not bad, but I can show ya better. Switch with me real quick." Semiu shares the same wickedly evil smile as your girlfriend, letting you lay back on the bed. You squeak as Rumi forces to lay back into the pillows, abanaoning her spot behind you. "B-But, Rumi," you stammer, only to get kissed into silence.
Rumi gives you a posessive, slow kiss that makes your brain turn to mush the same way your orgasm from Seimu's tongue did. "Quiet. Mommy wants to taste her girl now. After all, this pussy is mine, right?" She slinks a hand down between your legs to pet your pussy, grinning when you twitch from how sensitive it is. "Y-Yes," you whimper.
But that isn't good enough for your girlfriend.
SMACK! The sound of her hand smacking your pussy echos throughout the bedroom, richoeting off of the walls. "Right?" she repeats, firmer this time. She gives you another sharp smack, her palm sticking to your wet pussy as she does. "Yes, it's yours!" you loudly whine. "It's always yours, Mommy!"
The bunny hero smiles, her joy and pride so addictive. You want to make her proud of you. "Mmm, that's right. Now show our guest how good you cum for Mommy when she tastes you~"
You almost forgot about Seimu, glancing at her watching from the sidelines, rubbing her pussy, the contrast of her white nails on her brown skin making your pussy throb. Rumi switches places with Semiu, now between your thighs, hiking them up so that they are pushed against your stomach.
You have no choice but to lay there as your girlfriend makes your limbs go criss cross like a pretzel and she shoves her tongue inside of you, locking you in a prison of sheer pleasure. "Oh, fuck!" you whine, writhing on the bed like you're in the middle of an exorcism. "O-Oh, shit, Rumi, yes!"
Too late, you realize your mistake. You feel your stomach flutter with nerves as Rumi stares up at you from between the V of your thighs, glaringly. "Who?" Her voice is firm and rasped, making you bite your lip.
Suddenly, she is flipping you over with as much strength as it takes to pick up the remote, making you squeal. "Oh, fuck!" Seimu laughs as you're forced onto all fours, your ass sticking up in the air for your girlfriend.
SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! Each spanking from Rumi feels like fire licking across your asscheeks, the sound of her hand colliding with your Seimu moans at the sight, dripping all over her fingers as she toys with herself watching Rumi spank you and tears spring into your eyes.
"I'm sorry, M-Mommy! It just feels s-so good!" you whine, practically blubbering. "I won't do it again!" Rumi hums in agreement, pausing to soften the blow with wet kisses. "Mm-hm, you'd better not," she grumbles. "Now let's make my baby cum."
And then finally, finally, she's got her mouth on you again, eating you from the back. You moan and whine into the pillows as she pries your asscheeks apart, gripping them as she shoves her tongue inside of your dripping hole, coating her tongue in your honey.
Rumi is relentless with her pussy-eating, not giving you a chance to breathe or to protest. She takes what is hers, her tongue sloshing messily in your pussy, making you trickle down your thighs and drip all over the bed beneath you. Your sweet moans mix with Seimu's as she rubs her pussy to the sight, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.
You watch her as you get closer to your orgasm, gripping the pillow so tight that your knuckles turn pale. "Fuck, Rumi! You're gonna make me fuckin' cum, Mommy!" you whine into the pillow, staining it with your sweat and makeup.
"Then what's the magic word, mamas?" she murmurs into your pussy. "Don't be rude now. Show our guest how sweet you can really be."
"Please!" you sob, your eyes stinging with tears. "Please, please, make me cum, Mommy! Please let your baby girl cum!"
That's all Rumi needs to hear. And with a few more strokes of her tongue, you let out a broken moan as you cum for the second time that night, filling your girlfriend's mouth with your cream. Seimu cums too, letting out a throaty moan and a gasp as she makes her fingers sticky with her cum watching you explode, Rumi's mouth stuck to your pussy as she tongues you down.
Your girlfriend eats you out until your head is blank and you're seeing stars, totally and completely spent. Seimu comes over to slide her fingers, sticky with her cum, against your lips. "Taste me," she orders, making you pry your lips open to suck her taste off of her digits.
Rumi does the same, but with her tongue, forcing you to kiss her and taste your pussy off of her tongue, sharing your cum with one another. Seimu joins in with Rumi's permission, leading to a heated three-way kiss that almost makes you want to repeat the entire thing over again.
Finally, Rumi lies you down on your back and lets you recover. She and Seimu lie on either side of you, sandwiching you between them, their tits brushing against your arms. "How was that, baby?" Rumi coos, gently carding her fingers through your braids.
You weakly smile at her, your head still spinning and your body slick with sweat. You feel heavy with exhaustion but also with the wonderful feeling after great sex. "Heaven," you reply, making Seimu giggle beside you.
"Good," Rumi chirps, smirking at you. "But you ain't seen heaven yet. We ain't even give you our straps yet."
How anime characters would be with you in public vs private
Quiet and collected
In public: They will hold your hand or rest theirs on the front of your forearm as you walk together. Light touches, never anything too noticeable to others. They will place their hand on your lower back or even just put it behind you, just in case you sit, get up, or have to bend over for any reason.
In private: When you get home, they will be more touchy, hand on your waist and affectionate kisses from time to time. They love it when you are touchy back, specifically with cuddling and cheek kisses.
Nanami, Aizawa, Kishibe, Aki, Geto, All Might, Choso, Levi, Armin
Proud but tasteful
In public: They will be touchy with at least one hand on you at all times, often grabbing at your waist. In casual instances, a simple arm around your shoulder might do. When jealous or annoyed by other people ogling you, they will pull you in close by your waist and let their hand travel a bit.
In private: At home, they love to touch your thighs and butt, loving the way you giggle and react to their touch. They also love it when you're touchy, but like it when you're a bit more forward with it.
Toji, Ran Haitani, Quanxi, Dabi, Gojo, Mirko, Sevika
Up in the air
In public: Depending on the day, they can be either very touchy to the point of slight embarrassment in public from the clinginess, or just a slight pinky hold. They explained that it has nothing to do with you, it just depends on the day.
In private: However, home is always the same—they are sweet, gentle and clingy to you no matter what you are doing. Cooking, watching TV, working, reading, etc., they have to touch you in some way, even if it’s just a hand on yours.
Rindou Haitani, Eren, Hange, Hawks
•••
Author's note: do i have a type? (ˆ𐃷ˆ) i’m greedy and want everyone, so y'all get everyone lmaooo (also, i found this in my notes app from 2024 and just felt like posting it, so i fear some of these characters are random as hell 😭😭)
A soft rustle makes you look up to see a small sprig of mistletoe taped there by a mischievous student. He freezes, his skeletal frame going ramrod straight. A blush climbs from his neck to the tips of his ears, rivaling the color of his signature suit.
"Ah! Young [Reader’s Name]! It seems we've... uh... found ourselves in a bit of a traditional predicament!"
He lets out a nervous, booming laugh that quickly dissolves into a cough. He is a gentleman through and through. Flustered but resolved to honor the "rule", he places a large, gentle hand on your shoulder.
"Ahem. Well, a tradition is a tradition!" He bends down and presses a soft, chaste, and incredibly warm kiss to your cheek. It lasts only a second, but his lips are surprisingly soft. He immediately steps back, rubbing the back of his neck.
"There! Now, uh, no bad luck for the holidays!" He spends the next hour being uncharacteristically flustered, dropping papers and knocking over his tea. Later, you find a beautifully wrapped Christmas present on your desk with an anonymous note that is very clearly in his distinctive handwriting.
Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead)
It's late in the empty classroom. That's when you see it—a single piece of mistletoe, dangling from the lampshade. He stops, follows your gaze, and his eyes narrow into a deadpan stare.
"...Problem Children."
A long, weary sigh escapes him. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is illogical, a waste of time, and undoubtedly the doing of Class 1-A." He says this all in his usual monotone, but there's the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks, barely visible in the dim light.
He looks at you, then at the mistletoe, then back at you with a tired resolve. "The fastest way to end this nonsense is to comply." In one fluid motion, he leans in, his capture scarf brushing your arm. He places a quick, dry, but not unkind kiss directly on your lips. It's over in a blink, practical and efficient.
He immediately turns and walks toward the door, wrapping his scarf tighter. "Go home. It's late." But as you're packing, you hear his low grumble from the hallway: "...Merry Christmas."
Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)
It happens during the school's Christmas party, right by the refreshment table. He's in full festive mode, glitter in his hair and a light-up reindeer sweater. He's telling you an animated story, hands flying, and backs you both directly under a strategically placed bunch of mistletoe. He notices first, his narration cutting off with a dramatic gasp.
His eyes widen behind his sunglasses, and a huge, sparkling grin splits his face. "WELL, WELL, WELL! Look what the Spirit of Christmas dragged in, little listener!" He points excitedly at the ceiling, his voice dropping to a theatrical, radio-announcer whisper. "Seems the holiday magic has caught us in its festive web! YEAH!"
He strikes a pose, one hand on his hip. "A DJ always respects the classics!" He takes your hand with a flourish. Instead of a simple peck, he dips you low in a smooth, dramatic motion, earning a few whistles from nearby students. The kiss he plants on your lips is enthusiastic, sweet, and accompanied by a playful "Mwah!" sound effect.
He rights you with a laugh, his face flushed with joy. "HO HO HO! Consider your holiday season officially MERRY!" For the rest of the party, he makes exaggerated winks in your direction and dedicates the next slow song on his playlist to you. The next day, you receive a custom-made holiday playlist from him titled "Mistletoe Memories," and he somehow "accidentally" coordinates his radio show guest list with your free periods for the next week.
Keigo Takami (Hawks)
It’s less of an accident and more of a carefully orchestrated "happy little coincidence." You’re on a shared rooftop for a post-mission debrief when a single, perfect red feather drifts down from above, gently brushing your cheek before floating up to point at a sprig of mistletoe now hanging from a nearby antenna. He’s already standing casually beneath it, a lazy, knowing grin on his face.
"Oops," he says, not sounding sorry at all. "Looks like some holiday debris got caught in my feathers."
He tilts his head, his golden eyes crinkling with amusement. "You know the rules, right? Can't ignore tradition. Bad luck for our next mission efficiency ratings." He says it like it's a joke, but there's a focused, playful intensity in his gaze. He's already closed the comfortable distance between you, his wings subtly curving to create a sense of privacy on the open roof.
He’s smooth. One hand comes up to gently cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek. The kiss itself is feather-light at first, teasing and sweet, full of his charismatic charm. But if you lean into it even a little, it deepens into something warmer, more genuine, and surprisingly soft, lasting just long enough to leave you a bit breathless before he pulls back with a soft, pleased hum.
He winks, stepping back and letting his wings stretch. "Phew! Luck restored." He acts like it was just a bit of fun, but later, a gourmet chicken dinner from a high-end restaurant gets delivered to your doorstep with a note that just says, "For my favorite bird-watcher. -K."
Enji Todoroki (Endeavor)
You're delivering a report, and he's striding out of his office, both of you focused and serious. You collide with the solid wall of his chest under a doorway. Before either of you can utter a professional apology, a junior sidekick squeaks, "S-Sir! The mistletoe!" You look up. There it is, a small, defiant sprig someone had taped up as a dare. The sidekick pales and flees.
He stares at the mistletoe as if it's a villain requiring a tactical takedown. His brow furrows deeply, and a muscle ticks in his jaw. A flush, not from fire but from pure, unadulterated awkwardness, creeps up his neck. He grunts, a low, rumbling sound of exasperation.
"...This is frivolous."
He lets out a sharp sigh through his nose, a small puff of steam escaping in his agitation. Muttering, "To avoid further... disruption," he bends down stiffly. The kiss is a brief, firm press of his lips against yours—unsmiling, efficient, and surprisingly warm (a natural side effect of his Quirk). It's over in a second, and he immediately straightens up, adjusting his collar as if it's a piece of battle gear.
He clears his throat loudly. "The report. On my desk. Now." He marches back into his office, but leaves the door open behind him—an unspoken command for you to follow. For the next hour, he is even more brusque than usual, but you notice he doesn't correct you once.
Taishiro Toyomitsu (Fat Gum)
He's laughing, holding a massive platter of yakitori, gesturing for you to come try some. As you weave through the crowd toward him, he steps forward to meet you and boops—you're both directly under a huge, glittering kiss-ball.
His cheerful grin turns into a moment of wide-eyed, genuine surprise. Then, a deep, jolly laugh booms from his chest. "HAHA! Would you look at that! The holiday spirit's got us cornered, partner!" He doesn't look embarrassed at all, just delighted by the festive turn of events. He sets the platter down on a nearby table with a thud, his full, friendly attention on you.
He places his large, warm hands on your shoulders, his touch incredibly gentle despite his size. "C'mere! Don't want any bad luck for the new year!" He bends down, his smile softening. The kiss is hearty and sweet—like him. It's a firm, affectionate smack on the lips, full of cheerful warmth and the faint, friendly taste of the barbecue sauce he was just eating. It feels like being hugged by sunshine.
He pulls back, beaming, and gives your shoulders a friendly squeeze. "NOW the party's really started! Get over here and have some gyoza, you've earned it!"
Rumi Usagiyama (Mirko)
It's in a training gym after hours. She's just finished pulverizing a series of high-density targets, and you're there doing cool-down stretches. She hops down from a high bar, landing directly in front of you with a heavy thud. As she straightens up, a piece of mistletoe—knocked loose from the rafters by her impact—flutters down and lands perfectly on top of her head, caught between her long, white ears. She freezes, one ear twitching to flick it off, but it just settles more securely. She looks at you, then at the ceiling, then back at you with a sharp, challenging grin.
"Hah! Looks like the universe wants a piece of me," she barks, planting her fists on her hips. She doesn't step back; if anything, she leans in, her crimson eyes gleaming with competitive fire.
"Well? You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna follow through? I don't half-ass anything, especially not traditions."
She doesn't wait; she closes the gap, one hand coming up to grip your chin firmly but not roughly. The kiss is assertive, energetic, and surprisingly skilled. It's less about romance and more about a challenge met and conquered. There's a faint taste of her protein drink and sheer, unadulterated victory.
She pulls back with a satisfied "Heh!" and plucks the mistletoe from her ear, tossing it over her shoulder. "Not bad. Could use more intensity, though." She saunters off toward the showers, but calls over her shoulder, "Hey! You're spotting my leg press routine tomorrow! Don't be late!"
Kugo Sakamata (Gang Orca)
Hero Gala. You are his designated liaison for the evening, guiding him through the crowd to mitigate his intimidating presence. While navigating near the grand staircase, you both pause to let a group pass. He leans down slightly to hear you over the orchestra, and that's when you both see it: an elaborate, tasteful mistletoe arrangement hanging from the bottom of the staircase's ornate bannister. A hush falls over the immediate, well-dressed crowd.
A low, rumbling groan emanates from deep in his chest—a sound of profound social discomfort. His sharp teeth are bared in what everyone else would mistake for a threat display, but you recognize as severe embarrassment. His large, dark eyes dart from the mistletoe to you, then to the staring crowd. He straightens to his full, imposing height, his tailored suit straining.
"...This is... an unfortunate spectacle," he grumbles.
He understands the pressure of public expectation all too well. With a resigned sigh, he bends his great head. He is painfully gentle. He places a careful, closed-mouth kiss on your forehead, the gesture surprisingly tender and formal. The coarse texture of his skin brushes lightly against you, and you can feel the restrained power in his stillness.
He immediately turns his glare on the gathered onlookers, who quickly scatter. "The event is this way," he states, gesturing forward with a sharp claw, his tone all business again. For the rest of the night, he positions himself subtly between you and the most curious guests.
Tsunagu Hakamata (Best Jeanist)
He is meticulously adjusting the drape of a new costume prototype on a mannequin, and you are handing him pins. As you both reach for the same pin cushion on a shelf, your hands brush. A soft snick sound is heard. You look up. A single, perfect strand of denim fiber, woven into the shape of a minimalist mistletoe sprig, has been threaded through the ceiling fixture directly above you. He must have subconsciously manipulated his fibers while focused.
He goes perfectly still, his critical eyes shifting from the mannequin to the fiber-art above, then to you. A faint, almost imperceptible blush dusts his cheeks beneath his high collar.
"A... Freudian slip of the threads," he says, his voice calm but laced with a rare hint of self-reproach. "How unkempt of me."
He believes in doing things properly. With a precise, elegant motion, he removes one of his gloves. He gently tilts your chin up with his bare fingers, his touch cool and sure. The kiss is deliberate, composed, and flawlessly executed, neither too brief nor too long. It's smooth, cool, and tastes faintly of mint. It feels like being the center of a perfectly arranged piece of art.
He steps back, replacing his glove and smoothing down his already immaculate jacket. "We have diverged from the task at hand. The inseam on this prototype requires attention." He returns to his work, but his movements are even more precise, if possible.
or... hawks' instincts getting the best of him and deciding you are his to train !!
warnings : fluff !!
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: ... THIS IS GONNA BE A SERIES, PART TWO IS ALREADY IN THE WORKS
( second part )
( 🏷 @callme-holly )
The high-tech lounge in the Top Ten heroes' temporary viewing suite hummed with subdued energy. Multiple screens projected different angles of the U.A. Sports Festival, the roar of the crowd filtered into a pleasant buzz. Hawks, slouched in a sinfully comfortable recliner, was ostensibly "networking" and "scouting talent." In reality, he was enjoying a rare, sanctioned moment of downtime, a bucket of premium chicken wings in his lap and his signature visor tipped back on his forehead.
"Ugh, this year's batch is so serious," grumbled Mirko, kicking her feet up on the low glass table, her muscular frame a study in contained power. "All grimacing and trying to look cool. Where's the fun? Where's the showmanship?"
Hawks chuckled, lazily plucking a feather to fetch another soda from the mini-fridge without getting up. "Not everyone can have your particular brand of explosive charisma, Rumi. Some of us have to rely on good old-fashioned, marketable charm." He flashed her a grin, which she answered with a mock-scowl.
“C’mon, show me something with guts! All this running and shoving is a warm-up at best.”
“Patience, Rumi. The good stuff’s in the combat rounds. First years are all raw potential and no technique.”
The first-year cavalry battle had just concluded, and the screen was replaying highlights. Hawks’ eyes, trained to process high-speed movement, were casually tracking the ebb and flow of quirks. And then, during a slow-motion replay of a tight maneuver, he saw it.
A flash of light. Not explosive or harsh, but a clean, radiant burst that formed a solid, golden disc under the feet of a stumbling teammate. The camera panned, and there you were.
Hawks’ chewing slowed. Then stopped.
You were beaming, not with the fierce grin of victory, but with a pure, unadulterated smile of relief that your teammate was safe. Your white wings—almost angel like—gave a little, happy flutter as you helped her up. The sunlight caught the edges, making them seem to glow. You said something to your teammate, your expression soft and encouraging, before turning, your smile turning playful and determined as you launched back into the fray, not with aggressive strikes, but with clever, shielding maneuvers, using hardened light to deflect attacks and create platforms.
"Hey. Bird-brain. You're dripping."
Hawks blinked. Mirko was staring at him, a smirk playing on her lips. He looked down. A spot of barbecue sauce had fallen from the forgotten wing in his hand onto his flight suit.
"huh," he said, intelligently. His eyes snapped back to the screen. They were showing a close-up of the top teams. You were laughing at something your red-haired and sharp-toothed teammate said, your head thrown back, eyes crinkled with joy. You looked… soft. Bright. Like a personification of a sunbeam.
Professionally, a dozen synapses fired at once. Wings. Flight-capable. Likely similar muscle groups, similar aerodynamic principles. Rescue applications are immediately obvious—light generation for dark environments, hard-light constructs for instantaneous protection or stabilization. High maneuverability shown in team battle. Public-facing demeanor: excellent. Non-threatening, approachable, "safe" aesthetic. Marketability: through the roof.
Avian-ly, his brain short-circuited into a single, static-filled shriek.
FLEDGLING. Must guide. Must shelter. Protect. Teach. Provide.
Hawks slowly sat up straight, Mirko noticed. “Mnhm. Rescue play in a competition. Bold. Or stupid,” Mirko commented, but there was a hint of interest in her tone. “Pretty wings, though. Looks like a discount you.”
Something deep in his chest, something ancient and avian, gave a sudden, hard lurch. Yes, please, assume she is related to me in some way, she will be soon.
He subtly cleared his throat, forcing his taloned fingers to relax their sudden, possessive grip on the armrest. "What a kid, she's from the 1.A class, right? Eraserhead's?"
"Oh, her? Yeah, that's one of Aizawa's" She hummed, crimson eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion at her laid back and lazy friend's sudden interest. "She's cute as hell, too. Got a real rescue-hero vibe. Not a brawler, but she's got spine."
Cute. Yes. Cute was the tip of the iceberg. You were… utterly adorable. The way you tucked your wings in when you concentrated. The little hop-skip you did when your team secured a good position. The gentle pat you gave a defeated opponent from another class after the match. It was a sweetness that felt radical in the high-stakes arena. It wasn't blinding or naive; it was a gentle, resilient optimism that shone through every action.
His professional detachment evaporated, replaced by an intensity that had Mirko side-eyeing him with growing amusement.
The one-on-one battles were an agony and a delight. Every time you were on screen, Hawks’ wings would give an involuntary, minute shift behind him. When you used your light to create a dazzling, disorienting flash to gain an advantage, he muttered, "Smart. Non-destructive." When you formed a complex, interlocking shield to weather a powerful attack, he leaned forward. "Good structural integrity. Instinctual."
You were fighting, yes, but you were also performing, bringing a sense of wonder to the brutal contest.
“Show-off,” Hawks murmured, but the word was coated in a thick layer of sheer, undeniable fascination. His feathers, usually so precisely controlled, were subtly fanning and refanning, a sign of acute, agitated interest.
When you lost your final match, placing 6th overall, you did so with a gracious bow and a smile that, while disappointed, held no bitterness. You shook your opponent's hand, said what looked like "Great fight!", and then turned to the stands, waving to the crowd with both hands, your wings giving a cheerful, fluttering wave behind you. The camera caught a group of young children in the stands absolutely enraptured, one little girl pointing and crying out, "Angel! Mama, look!"
Mirko let out a low whistle. “Okay, kid’s got style. And control. That’s not beginner-level finesse.”
“No,” Hawks agreed, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s not.”
He wanted to swoop down into that stadium, right then, and herd you away from the noise and the scrutiny. He wanted to check those pristine white feathers for damage, to preen the disarray the fight had caused. He wanted to puff up his own wings with pride at your 6th-place finish, because you’d done it your way, the kind way, and still soared so high.
And he didn't even know you!
It was overwhelming. It was ridiculous. It was, as his human mind weakly protested, a stupid bird-brain reaction.
He became intensely aware of Mirko’s knowing stare burning into the side of his face.
“So,” she drawled, a wicked grin spreading. “The Angel Hero, huh?”
Hawks cleared his throat, forcing his wings to settle from their agitated, half-spread position. “The… what?”
“That’s what that little squirt called her. Fits, doesn’t it? With the wings and the glowy, nice-girl act.”
“That’s what the commentators are calling her. ‘The Angel Hero.’ Fits, doesn’t it? With the wings and the glowy, nice-girl act.”
“It’s not an act,” Hawks said, too quickly. He internally cursed. “I mean, the control of her quirk suggests intense focus and a peaceful disposition. It’s congruent. Authenticity is key for public trust.”
“Yeah, yeah, save the PR spiel for the Commission, Bird Boy. You’re practically vibrating. You wanna go down there and tuck her under your wing right now, don’t you?”
Hawks ignored the heat on the back of his neck. His eyes were glued to the screen where a post-match interviewer was now talking to you. You were nodding enthusiastically, your gestures animated, your smile so bright it rivaled your quirk. You mentioned something about “doing your best” and “hoping to make people feel safe.”
Stupid, stupid bird-brain. She’s perfect.
"I'm requesting her," Hawks said, his voice casual but leaving no room for debate.
Mirko snorted. "For the one-week agency trial? You? Mr. 'I-work-better-alone'? Since when do you babysit?"
"It's not babysitting. It's strategic investment!" he said, the words flowing easily as he constructed the professional facade. "Her quirk has staggering synergy with mine. I can teach her aerial combat, flight efficiency, and maneuvering in ways no one else can. Her rescue potential is off the charts. And look at her." He gestured to the screen, now showing a replay of your wave. "The public loves her. Kids already see her as an angel! that's a trademark! Do you have any idea what the merchandise on that is? The positive press? The Hero Commission would cream their suits. 'The Winged Hero' and 'The Angel Hero.' It's a PR goldmine."
He was talking fast, his mind racing ahead—training schedules, media introductions, customizing a corner of his agency for a intern, what brand of feather-oil would work best on luminous white primaries…
“Uh-huh. And the fact that she’s a cute, smiley, little chick who makes light flowers and you’ve already decided she’s your new baby bird in your head has nothing to do with it.”
“She’s by far the best pick! Flight-capable, rescue-focused, high public approval ceiling. My agency could offer her specialized training no one else can. Speed drills, aerial combat, feather—er, flight dynamics. Plus, she’s photogenic. Could take her to magazine shoots, build her brand early. It’s a sound investment.”
Mirko was staring at him, her red eyes seeing right through the corporate spiel to the man beneath whose wings were now held in a tense, slightly puffed-up position. She saw the way his eyes had tracked you across the screen with a focus usually reserved for high-speed villains. She saw the barely-contained… proprietary energy.
"You're so full of it," she laughed, a sharp, barking sound. "You saw a cute little birdie with pretty wings and your stupid bird-brain went 'MINE.' Admit it. You want to preen her and feed her and teach her to fly in circles around your big, fancy agency tower."
Hawks met her gaze, his own golden eyes wide with a mixture of defiance and pure, unvarnished instinct. “…The merch would be cute,” he conceded weakly.
Mirko threw her head back and laughed, a loud, booming sound. “I KNEW IT! Oh, this is priceless! The great, aloof Hawks, felled by a first-year with pretty wings and a sunshine smile!” She wiped a fake tear from her eye. “But you’re not wrong. Kid’s got the stuff. The ‘Angel Hero’ paired with the ‘Winged Hero’? The press will eat that up with a spoon. She’ll be a kid-magnet. And,” she added, punching his shoulder lightly, “maybe she’ll teach your cynical ass how to smile like you mean it again.”
Hawks rubbed his shoulder, but his eyes were already drifting back to your image on the screen. The decision was made. It had been made the moment he saw you build that ramp.
“So… you think it’s a good idea? Sending the request? She’s only a first year, but with the exception made for 1-A this year…”
“Are you asking me as a colleague, or as a mama bird seeking validation for adopting a stray?” Mirko teased.
“Rumi.”
“Fine, fine. Yes, you feathery freak. Send the request. Train her up. Make her the next big thing. Just promise me I get to spar with her once she’s got some teeth. I wanna see if that sweet attitude holds up when she’s got a rabbit’s foot in her face.”
He rolled his eyes playfully, grabbing a tablet from the table. "The request form is digital now. Needs to be submitted within 48 hours after the festival to be considered." His thumbs flew over the screen. "Hawks Agency… seeking a first-year intern for the exceptional two-week placement period… candidate demonstrates exemplary rescue-oriented quirk application and high public rapport… unique opportunity for specialized flight training…"
Mirko peeked over his shoulder. "You're writing 'unparalleled aerial mentorship.' You're so vain."
"It's accurate," he sniffed. "She placed 6th. That's perfect. High enough to show exceptional skill, not so high that she'll be swamped with offers from every top ten agency. Endeavor will gun for the top three, his son specifically, Best Jeanist goes for the stylish ones… or the ones that need styling." His mind was a tactical map. "I have the edge. The wing connection. It's logical."
As he typed, his internal monologue was anything but logical. She’ll need a safety harness rated for tandem flight. Her own desk. Maybe that sunny spot by the window. Have to talk to the support department about light-reflective costume materials. She shouldn't wear anything that hinders her pinions. Must ensure she eats enough; flying burns calories.
"Gods, you're already planning her nursery," Mirko cackled, collapsing back into her chair. "Fine, fine. She is the cutest first year. And you're right about the 'Angel Hero' thing. The merch would be adorable. Tiny wing pins. Halo hair clips. It'd sell millions. You are handsome, she's pretty, you'll have audiences in every age range."
Now they were both off, the two top heroes brainstorming with the fervor of talent agents.
"Hawks' Agency could launch her sophomore year brand," Hawks mused, his eyes gleaming with a mix of genuine marketing genius and pure, unadulterated fondness. "Build her on rescue and relief work, high visibility public engagements. Kids will love her. Parents will trust her."
"Think of the photo ops!" Mirko added, getting into the spirit. "You, all cool and sleek, with this little ray of sunshine next to you. Training shots of you two flying in formation. She'd make you look almost human, bird-boy."
He threw a couch pillow at her, which she caught and threw back, he dodged absent-mindedly, his focus already back on the tablet. The request was complete. He attached the clip of you creating the hard-light shield. Added the screenshot of you waving. He paused over the 'Additional Notes' section.
His finger hovered. The professional in him dictated: Candidate shows exceptional promise for a rescue-oriented heroic paradigm.
The bird in him screamed: PLEASE GIVE ME MY BABY CHICK I WILL BUILD HER A NEST AND TEACH HER EVERYTHING AND SHE IS SO BRIGHT AND GOOD SHE WILL BE THE BEST RESCUE HERO.
He settled for: "Candidate possesses a unique quirk synergy with my own and a public demeanor that aligns perfectly with the future of heroic image. I am prepared to offer highly personalized, intensive training."
He hit 'submit.'
A soft ping confirmed the request was en route to U.A., to Nezu, to Aizawa, and eventually, to you.
Hawks leaned back, finally taking a bite of another one of the now-cold chicken wings on the bucket nearby him. On the big screen, the awards ceremony was starting. You weren't in the podium, but he could see you from afar, tiny little ants everyone was, but the white of your wings gave away where you were.
Mirko nudged his boot with her foot. "Look at you. Papa Hawk has found his chick. Don't scare her off with your coddling."
Hawks' grin returned, wider and more genuine than any he'd worn all day. His golden eyes were fixed on your image, already mapping out your future—the flights you'd take, the villains you'd outmaneuver, the people you'd save, the nest he'd build for you in the world of heroes.
"Scare her off?" he said, his voice a low, confident hum. "Never. I'm going to make sure she's the safest, strongest, most dazzling little bird in the entire sky."
cw: smut, wlw, fingering, praise, pet names, office sex, cunnilingus, jealousy, age gap (?), lmk if i missed anything ;)
a/n: honestly i feel like this is shit bc i haven’t written wlw smut in so long omg, but this was an anon request, hope you enjoy pooks.
𖤓 Mirko had spent most of her career working solo, but after finally deciding to open her own agency, she hired you as her personal assistant. You were her favorite, though no one else in the office knew just how much.
You got paid more than most of the sidekicks, had the easiest workload, and spent more time in Mirko’s office than anywhere else. She never complained. If anything, she encouraged it. She liked having you around, liked watching you walk around in those barely appropriate skirts, always finding excuses to hover near her desk.
Everything was fine until the new sidekick showed up.
She was everything you weren’t; tall, confident, strong super cool quirk, and clearly ambitious. Worse, she was constantly around Mirko. It didn’t take long for jealousy to settle in your chest. You stopped lingering in Mirko’s office, started taking your time whenever she called for you, and slowly pulled away completely. No more smiles, no more treats from home, no more tagging along to lunch or events.
Mirko noticed right away.
That afternoon, she called you into her office. You walked in slowly, wearing a bored expression as you stood in front of her desk.
“Yes, Mirko?” you asked, trying to sound professional.
She leaned back in her chair, ears twitching as her eyes dragged over you. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Something wrong, princess?”
You forced a tight smile. “I’m fine. Did you need me to do something?”
Mirko stared at you for a moment before sighing. “Come here. Sit on the desk.”
You hesitated. “W-What?”
“I said sit.”
It didn’t take long after that.
One second you were hesitantly perching on the edge of her desk, and the next, Mirko had your thighs spread wide with three of her fingers buried deep inside your dripping cunt. Your skirt was bunched up around your waist, and your hands were gripping the edge of the desk as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out of you.
Mirko watched you with a small, amused smile, her tone dripping with condescension. “There we go. Look at how pretty you are when you’re not pouting. Say it for me, princess.”
You whimpered, hips twitching. “I-I’m pretty…”
“That’s right,” she cooed, curling her fingers just right. “And who do you belong to?”
“Y-You,” you breathed, eyes fluttering. “I belong to you, Mirko.”
She hummed in approval, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl. Now tell me why you were being so distant lately.”
Your face burned, trying to look away. “B-Because… I got jealous…”
Mirko clicked her tongue, grabbing you face and forcing you to look at her, thrusting her fingers a little deeper. “Jealous of what, hm? That little sidekick? She could never take your place.” She pressed her thumb against your puffy clit, rubbing slow circles. “Say it. Tell me you’re better than her.”
You let out a shaky moan, thighs trembling. “I-I’m better than her…”
“Louder, princess,” she teased, voice sweet but mocking. “I want to hear you say it properly.”
“I’m better than her,” you repeated, voice cracking as she sped up her fingers. “I’m yours— only yours—!”
Mirko smiled against your thigh before lowering her mouth to your clit, sucking gently while her fingers continued to stretch you open. “That’s my good girl. Keep talking. Tell me how much you love being mine.”
Your head fell back with a broken whine, one hand moving to grip her hair as her tongue flicked over your swollen clit. “I love it— love being yours, Mirko— please, don’t stop!”
She pulled back just enough to speak, her breath warm against your slick folds. “I’m not stopping, baby. Not until you cum all over my fingers and remember exactly who you belong to.”
