Rainfall and Ruin
Izuku Midoriya x fem! Reader
this is straight filth
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You’d been poking the bear all damn day.
Not just for fun—but to finally see what he was hiding.
The thing was…you were dating. You’d been dating for a while now. He kissed you sweetly, held your hand, dry humped you with desperate little whines—but he never went any further. He always stopped himself. Always shook his head, cheeks blazing, voice soft and nervous. He worshipped you, always asked before going any further. And yeah—it was cute.
At first. But now?
Now, it was maddening.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he’d told you once, after a particularly heated makeout that ended with him biting his lip and pulling away. “I don’t… I don’t fully know my own strength. What if I lose control?”panting, cheeks flushed as he grinned against you until both of you were trembling. “I get so… worked up. I don’t know if I could stop.”
God, and you loved him for it. You remembered smiling up at him, brushing sweaty hair from his face. “Then don’t stop.”
you saw the way his hands shook when they rested on your hips. How his jaw clenched when you moaned into a kiss. You knew he wanted to go further. He just wouldn’t let himself. Every time. He never let himself lose control or be rough with you.
You wanted to test him. So today? You wanted to see how far he could be pushed. And damn, he made it too easy.
——
The way he always turned red every time you called him “Zuku.” How his breath hitched when your hand brushed low on his stomach. How his eyes would flicker nervously away when you leaned over to grab your pen, your skirt riding up just enough to make his throat go dry. You’d let out soft moans around him when you’d stretch a little in your seat, just so he could hear. It was like you had him on a string, and each movement you made tugged him closer to the edge.
During your study session later, you decided to take it even further, to really test just how far you could push him without him breaking. The room was nearly empty, the only sound the soft rustle of paper and the scratch of pens. You skipped over to him, a playful smile curling on your lips as you took your seat just a little too close.
“Tell me, Zuku,” you breathed softly against his neck, your lips grazing his skin. You felt him freeze, his body going rigid as your breath tickled his ear. “Do you think about me when you’re alone?” you whispered, “what do you do when you think about me?” your voice soft and teasing.
You could see the way his grip tightened on the textbook, his knuckles turning white as he tried to steady his breath, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t hide it anymore. You could tell by the way his eyes darted to the side.
You leaned in closer, your body brushing against his as you let your words linger. “I know what you do,” you purred, practically tasting the way he was unraveling under your attention.
You saw his jaw clench, his chest rising and falling with every breath. It was almost cute, how badly he was trying to hold it together. Almost. But you weren’t done yet.
“Zukuuuu…” You dragged the name out, rolling it on your tongue like it was a secret. “wanna know what I do when I think of you?” You slid your hand down his arm, deliberately slow, and when your fingers brushed the edge of his hand, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you kept your palm pressed against his, letting the heat of your touch seep into his skin. “Maybe i’ll have to show you” He was trying to be good. But you were done playing sweet.
So when you asked him to walk you to your dorm after that long study session, all soft smiles and batting lashes, you had every intention of testing that tight grip he kept on himself.
You hooked your arm around his, holding onto him like you needed his warmth, and he let you. Quiet and sweet like always.
But when you got to your door, you turned around, tugged him a little closer, fingers just barely grazing the waistband of his pants.
“Thanks for walking me, Izuku,” you said, voice low and sweet, fingers brushing just below his waistband. You leaned in, your lips grazing his jaw. “You’re always so good to me.”
That’s when you saw it. Not the flustered smile. Not the blush. His eyes.
Dark. Focused. Hungry
You tilted your head, trying one last poke. “Goodnight, Izuku.” You turned toward the door. But before your hand could touch the knob, his slammed into the wood above your head, caging you in.
You gasped, spinning around, heart jumping. His eyes weren’t flustered anymore. They were blazing.
“You think this is funny?” he asked, voice low—dangerous. “You’ve been teasing me all damn day. And now you’re gonna act like I’m just supposed to walk away?”
Your lips parted, breath catching. “I didn’t mean—”
His hand grabbed your chin, tilting your face up. “You did,” he growled. “You said goodnight like you didn’t spend the whole day trying to see how far you could push me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek.
“You wanted my attention, baby? You’ve got it.”
Before you could react, his thigh slid between yours, pressing up hard, forcing your legs apart. You gasped and instinctively tried to close them, but he held you there—pinned and squirming. His mouth curled into a slow, knowing smirk.
“Ooooh, there it is,” he whispered. “You like this. You wanted this.”
He leaned close, lips ghosting over your jaw, hot breath sending chills down your spine.
“You’re not nearly as innocent as you pretend to be” You opened your mouth to throw out another cheeky line—but you didn’t get the chance.
His lips crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue, stealing your breath. There was nothing sweet about it. It was greedy, rough—punishing. Like he was tasting every smirk, every teasing laugh you gave him that day.
You moaned, grabbing at his shirt, desperate for more. He didn’t stop.
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. You felt the hardness straining against his pants, pressed perfectly against where you needed it. You whimpered.
He kicked the door open and shoved it shut behind him, never breaking the kiss. Carried you to the bed like you weighed nothing. Then he dropped you onto the mattress and climbed on top of you.
His fingers gripped your hips, hauling you closer, grinding his cock right against your soaked panties through your shorts.
“Feel that?” he rasped, voice dark and gleeful. “I’m hard for you. Have been all damn day.”
You couldn’t even speak—just gasped, clinging to him, your mind spinning from the pressure, the heat, the filthy things he was saying in that shaky, desperate, cocky voice.
“I’ve been so good,” he hissed, voice shaking as his forehead pressed to yours, his breath coming in ragged little pants. “So fucking good for you.”
He ground his hips forward again—harder this time. You cried out, your hands flying up to clutch his shoulders as the thick, heavy heat of him rubbed right against your sweet spot.
His eyes fluttered shut. He bit back a moan.
“Held back every damn time you touched me—every time you climbed in my lap with those pretty eyes, makin’ those little sounds—and I didn’t touch you like I wanted to.”
He dragged his hips against you again, slower this time. Deeper. His voice broke—pleading now.
“Tell me I’ve been good, baby,” he whispered, raw and low, like it was killing him. “Tell me I’ve been good for you.”
You whimpered, nodding, clinging to him like you might fall apart. “You’ve been so good, Zuku—so good, baby—”
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes—now blown wide, wild with want—and smiled.
“I want you to ruin me, Zuku.”
He let out the filthiest, neediest sound you’d ever heard, like your words physically wrecked him.
He thrust forward again, harder this time—enough to make you cry out.
He nuzzled against your neck now, lips brushing your skin, his voice lower—more vulnerable.
“Think you’re ready to take me, baby?” he asked, tilting your chin up again. “’Cause when I get inside you—I’m not stopping.”
You gasped his name, dizzy from the friction, from the way he was everywhere.
His eyes swept over you, dark and unreadable.
“Strip,” he said, calm. Too calm.
You blinked, breathless. Your jaw dropped slightly. But your thighs pressed together. You slowly sat up, pulling your shirt off one shoulder, then paused, lips curled in a challenge.
“If you want me naked so bad,” you purred, “you should do something about it, Zuku.”
His eyes flared. He was on you in a second. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head, then dragged your shorts down your thighs in one rough pull, leaving you in your underwear.
“You’re real brave with your clothes on ya know?,” he muttered, kissing down your stomach, teeth scraping lightly at your hip.
“You really gonna fuck me like you’re mad?” you breathed, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue dipped below your waistband.
He leaned up, lips brushing your ear.
“No,” he whispered. “I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been waiting.” god—you were done for.
His mouth was on you—
Hot, wet, perfect. His tongue moved like he was memorizing every part of you—slow drags, then sharp flicks over your clit that had you gasping, fingers digging into his curls.
“Izukuuu—”
“Say my name again like that,” he murmured, eyes flicking up, glazed and desperate. “Say it while you cum on my tongue.”
And you did. Hard. Arching up, thighs trembling around his head, crying out for him as the pressure snapped and pleasure crashed over you like a wave.
But he didn’t stop. Not even close.
He kept licking, slower now, gentle—like he was soothing you through the high. His hand trailed up your body, calloused fingers brushing your ribs, your breast, until he was hovering over you again.
His cock pressed hard and heavy against your thigh through his sweats.
You sat up as he straightened, taking off his shirt. Now seeing his barea chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, lips parted.
You reached down slowly, eyes locked on his, fingers curling into the waistband of his pants.
He didn’t stop you. Just watched. Watched with dark, hungry eyes, looking up at him like you were about to worship him.
You pulled his pants down, dragging his boxers with them, and—Your breath hitched.
His cock sprang free, flushed and hard, twitching as the cool air hit him. It bobbed once, landing right in front of your face, heavy and aching. You bit your lip, eyes wide with awe and want.
“Tell me again,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked, full of that ache he’d been holding back for so long. “Tell me I’ve been good. Tell me I deserve to fuck you.” His hand came up—not rough this time—just soft. Gentle. He cradled the back of your head like you were the most fragile thing in the world, fingers threading through your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. His thumb brushed just behind your ear.
It was so tender it made your heart stutter.
“You’ve been good, Zuku,” you whispered, voice cracking as your hands fisted in the sheets. “So good to me. You waited. You were patient. You didn’t rush anything.”
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, eyes fluttering shut like he needed to feel everything. But then, in a snap, that softness twisted into something hotter. Darker.
He grabbed your neck and shoved you flat onto the bed so fast you barely had time to process it. Your back hit the mattress, breath stolen from your lungs, hands grasping at the sheets as he towered over you.
He let out a low groan, hips twitching forward. “Tell me I can.” his grip around your neck let up for you to breathe.
“You can. I want you inside me. Please, Izuku—I need you.” He finally gave in.
One hand braced on your thigh, the other gripping your waist, he sank into you slow at first—inch by inch, letting you feel every stretch, every bit of him until he bottomed out with a guttural sound.
You cried out, back arching, breath knocked from your lungs.
He snapped his hips forward, hard and deep, and you saw stars.
He was relentless now.
Each thrust slammed into you with dizzying force—deep, punishing, perfect. His grip on your waist had tightened, fingers digging into your skin like he couldn’t bear to let you go.
Your moans had turned to cries, hands scrambling to hold onto anything—him, the sheets, your sanity.
His thrusts grew rougher, more desperate—like something inside him had snapped completely, like the leash had finally given way.
The bed slammed into the wall over and over again, the headboard banging so loud you could barely hear yourself moan. Each thrust sent a sharp jolt through the frame, until even the bolts started to rattle loose beneath you.
“Izuku—” you gasped, hands scrambling at the sheets. “You’re gonna break the—”
CRACK.
“Baby I- I can’t stop” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m not deep enough in you.”
The headboard split with a sharp snap, wood splintering under the force of his grip as he braced himself, hips snapping forward with punishing rhythm.
Your thighs trembled, legs falling open wider just to take him, even as pain bloomed where his hips met yours. You knew you’d be bruised with dark marks between your legs.
“Z-Zuku—!” you gasped, eyes glassy, vision blurred. “Too much—!”
But your legs didn’t close. Your hips didn’t pull away. If anything, they lifted, begging for more.
Because god, it hurt, but it was so good. That line between pleasure and pain blurred until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Your body needed it. Needed him.
“I’m hurting you—” he choked out between thrusts, breath shaking as he slowed just for a second. “I—I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“You’re not,” you moaned, nails raking down his back. “You feel so fucking good, Izuku. Don’t stop. Please—don’t stop—”
His pace returned, rough and needy, but his hand slid to your face, cupping your cheek—tender, even as he wrecked you.
“You’re everything,” he panted, kissing your lips between thrusts. “You’re—fuck—you take me so well.”
Your body trembled, every nerve on fire, tears prickling in your eyes from the intensity, from how much he gave you—how deeply he wanted you.
And when his fingers found your clit and circled once, twice, just right—
You screamed. Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled scream ripped from your throat, and your whole body snapped.
The orgasm hit you like a wave. Blinding. Overwhelming. Your legs locked around him, hips bucking, hands fisting in his hair.
“ZUKU—!”
Your voice broke, trembling as you sobbed through it, clenching around him so hard his rhythm stuttered.
“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, head dropping to your neck. “You’re—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—!”
He was losing it.
You felt it in the way he started to fall apart—his thrusts erratic, his moans louder, deeper, needier. He braced his forehead against yours, eyes screwed shut, muscles shaking with the effort to hold on.
“I’m—baby, I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”
You cupped his face this time, kissed him through your wrecked smile. “Do it. I want it in me. Izuku—please.”
That was all he needed.
With a strangled cry, he buried himself deep one last time—so deep—and came, hips jerking, body trembling above you as he gasped your name like a prayer. You felt the warmth flood inside you, the way his cock pulsed through every twitch.
Then everything went still.
Just the sound of your heartbeats. Your ragged breathing. His soft whimpers as he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving.
You wrapped your arms around him, threading fingers through his messy curls.
“Hey,” you whispered, still breathless. “You didn’t hurt me- I mean you hurt everything around us.” He lifted his head slowly, green eyes soft again—glassy, concerned. “promise?” You smiled, kissed the tip of his nose. “You were perfect, Zuku.”
A shy grin tugged at his lips, and he melted into you with a shaky laugh, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you impossibly close.
“You drive me crazy,” he murmured.
“Good,” you whispered. “I want to be the only one who gets you like this.”
“You already are,” he said, pressing a kiss to your collarbone.
“I love you”
