summary: after months of scrutiny and villainization in the media, Deku decides it’s time to settle things once and for all: he’s confronting his biggest hater—you.
warnings: spiderverse AU, slightly mean!izuku/deku, slow burn, kind of enemies to lovers, obsession/fixation, fem!reader, reader has an obsession with deku and is desperate (understandable), celebrity-fan dynamic, home intrusion, consent/boundaries discussions, no use of y/n, teasing, flirting, dirty talk, a lil bit of degrading kink, sexual content, oral sex (izuku!receiving), masturbation with sex toys implied, p in v sex, multiple orgasms, nsfw, smut, MDNI;
wc: 6,4k
a/n: hey guys! hope you like it! pls don’t just ask for a part 2, i actually wanna hear your opinions! what did you think? likes, comments and reblogs are always welcomed! also… confession time: i realized i really like it when deku rips off clothing items... it's the second time i write it in a fic. confession number 2: cowgirl might honestly be my fave position so far;
“And now back to our colleague on site,” the voice from the TV filled the room, echoing softly against the walls. “Do you hear us?”
“Yes, hello. Reporting for Japan News Today...” Your voice came through the speakers, clear and professional.
“...it seems our prestigious hero, Deku, fled the scene immediately after saving the endangered civilians. He was not available for interviews today, and some sources also claim they spotted him near the bank just hours before the explosion occurred. Could he be involved in some way, or was it merely a coincidence that he appeared right on time once again? Is our dear hero trying to deceive us, or did he truly save the day?”
A pause—measured. “I’ll let you decide at home.”
“Sources my ass. She made that shit up,” Katsuki’s voice rang out sharply, drowning out the rest of the broadcast as he scowled at the screen.
“Eh… actually,” Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “I was patrolling there earlier. I noticed some shady-looking people hanging around.” His tone was thoughtful, almost apologetic, as if he were still trying to justify himself, even now.
As usual, his genuine concern had been twisted into something ugly.
“Damn,” Katsuki scoffed, shaking his head. “She really knows how to spin shit. Always on your ass.”
“That’s her job,” Izuku replied with a casual shrug, even though the constant villainization still unsettled him more often than he cared to admit.
And Katsuki saw straight through it.
“Hey.” The blond suddenly spoke again, a slow, devilish smirk spreading across his face as his eyes glinted with something dangerous—and mischievous.
Izuku stiffened. He knew that look far too well.
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Izuku cut in immediately, pointing a finger at him, “it’s a no.”
“She deserves it,” Katsuki insisted, nudging his shoulder. “Let’s just mess with her a little. It’ll be fun.”
“Kacchan… it’s not right,” Izuku trailed off, gaze shifting to the side. His voice softened, conflicted.
“C’mon, Izuku,” Katsuki pushed. “Why not just give her what she wants?”
“And what does she want?” Izuku raised a brow, genuinely confused.
“To meet her favorite hero.” Katsuki winked suggestively.
Izuku blinked—then almost laughed. “Favorite?”
“Yeah, you heard me. I know freaks like her.” Katsuki snorted. “Bet she’s got posters of you all over her walls. Probably sleeps with a fuckin’ Deku-sized pillow every night.”
Izuku froze for half a second, the idea uncomfortably vivid.
“Well… studies do show that people who spread extreme negativity often develop obsessive tendencies towards the subjects they criticize,” Izuku began, hand coming up to his chin as he slipped into analytical mode. “There’s a big possibility this behavior applies to her as—”
“Oi, nerd.” Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Shut up. Let’s do it.”
Izuku sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. “Fine.” He hesitated, doubt gnawing at him. He wasn’t the type to mess with people. Not like this.
…And yet, something darker stirred in his chest at the thought of finally confronting you after months—of making you feel the weight of every careless word you’d written and said about him when all he’d ever done was help.
***
“You sure that’s the street?” Izuku asked through his incorporated mic, frowning down at the crumpled scrap of paper in his hand before glancing up at the massive apartment complex looming above him.
“You think I don’t know how to do my fuckin’ job?” Katsuki snarled back through the speaker.
Izuku winced instinctively. “Jeez… loud.”
“Wow,” Izuku muttered, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Talking shit really does pay well, huh?”
“She’ll be back around six,” Katsuki continued, all business now. “No neighbors nearby. Private area. Stay out of the cameras and activate suit camouflage.”
“You better,” Katsuki warned. “Or tomorrow there’s gonna be a headline like: ‘Friendly Hero Deku Breaks Into Woman’s Apartment.’”
Izuku laughed quietly. “Alright. I’m off.”
With a flick of his wrist, the camouflage function activated—and he vanished.
***
Today was longer than expected.
Every minute felt stretched thin, exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. All you wanted now was to soak in a long, hot bath and fall asleep early—no noise, no thoughts, just silence.
You arrived home very late, as traffic had been unbearable, horns blaring, lights flashing endlessly. You told yourself again that you should just take the subway. Yet you never listened.
With a tired shake of your head, you entered your apartment, locking the door behind you. Your coat and shoes were discarded carelessly by the entrance as you stretched, muscles aching, steps slow as you walked down the hall towards your bedroom.
You twisted the handle without much care, pushed the wooden door open… and instantly froze in place for a few good seconds.
Then,
Your body moved before your brain could even process what was happening.
You slammed against the wall, breath stolen, heart thundering as a wave of disbelief and fear collided with your chest.
“W-what— what are you doing here?!” you screamed, horror ripping through your voice, heart hammering so violently it felt like it might burst out of your chest.
Deku was there. In your room. On your bed. Lounging like he had every right to be there.
Holding a stuffed plushie to his chest.
Your stuffed plushie.
Of him.
“Oh,” the masked man said lightly, tilting his head, eyes scanning the room attentively.
“I thought you’d be happy to see me? Given all the posters… figured you’d be thrilled to have the real thing,” his voice was soft, almost teasing.
Your words failed you. Your tongue tied itself in knots, mind spiraling. Shock, fear, disbelief—they all churned together like a storm inside you.
The man who had occupied your thoughts for months ever since the first moment you saw him on screen—your fixation, your obsession—was here.
“Didn’t know you were such a big fan,” Deku said while he finally stood up from your bed, leaving the plushie behind and stepping towards you.
“I—I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. Tears pricked your eyes, and your lip trembled.
He softened slightly. “Aww… don’t cry. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not the bad guy you make me out to be.”
Ouch.
That stung harder than you expected.
“T-then…?” you sniffled, blinking rapidly, ashamed that your body betrayed you like this.
“I’m here to talk,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you room to breathe—but not enough to make you feel free. “Your articles… they make me feel bad, y’know?”
You lowered your gaze, shame flooding you. “I—I know.”
“Then why do you write them?”
“I just— I—” The words stumbled over themselves.
“And don’t lie to me,” he interrupted, pointing his finger towards you. “I’m already pretty mad,” he chuckled lightly.
You took a deep inhale, needing air more than ever as you felt your chest tightening painfully. You weren’t supposed to say what you were feeling—but it was your only choice. You didn’t want to upset him even more. Being honest was the best you could do.
“Lots of people write g-good things about you,” you stammered, cheeks burning, voice barely above a whisper. “I couldn’t stand out, so I… I did the opposite… because I… wanted your attention.”
His silence made your stomach flip. You dared a quick glance up. Even if you couldn’t see his face, you could tell he was surprised. Not angry. Not even annoyed. Just… slightly thrown off by your confession.
Your heart lurched. “I—I didn’t mean… I mean… it sounds stupid…”
“Okay,” he said softly, eyes locking onto yours behind his mask, sharp but not unkind. “You have my full attention now. And what next?”
You felt the weight of the moment press down, every nerve screaming, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. This was your only chance.
“I—I like you!” you blurted, barely able to hold his gaze. “I… you’re everything I want!”
Deku’s body stiffened at your second confession, expecting anything but this.
“You don’t even know what kind of person I am, what I look like,” he chuckled, voice low, teasing—but gentle.
Your heart melted at the sound.
“But I know you!” you insisted, cheeks hot and hands trembling. “You’re heroic, kind-hearted… helpful. You wouldn’t be standing here to just talk if you were like I portrayed you… I’d be dead!”
“Oh?” he murmured, eyes widening slightly behind the mask, and you saw a flicker of real surprise.
“And I don’t care what you look like! I fell for you anyway… nothing can change what I feel for you,” you mutter, gaze falling down as you felt so ashamed. “Let me make it up to you!”
“Make it up to me?” he asked, tone teasing, voice softer than before.
“Yeah! In any way. I would do anything for you!” you admitted. “Please.”
“You know what you’re implying, right?” His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn’t touch you, nor move closer.
“Yes,” you whispered. “This… this is what I’ve wanted since… since I first saw you…”
He paused, studying your face carefully, and then lifted his hand to your cheek, pressing gently but assertively.
“Maybe I should,” Deku said softly, tone darkening just enough to make your stomach flutter, “…knock some sense into you, yeah?”
Your fingers grazed the fabric of his gloved hand, heart leaping with a strange mix of fear and longing.
“I… can’t believe this…” you started, voice trembling with excitement.
But then, his posture stiffened. You could see the shift in his body language—a caution threading through his usual softness.
“But I don’t think I can trust you,” he said, his voice calm, low, but firm as his hand moved away from your face. The mask softened the words, but the weight behind them pressed against your chest.
“What if… you twist this?” He gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What if you say… that I forced myself on you?”
Panic and shame surged. Your stomach dropped. Your hands reached his strong chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit, desperate, trembling.
“No! I would never! Just, tell me how I can win your trust!”
He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a smile behind his mask, amusement spread all over his face.
“I’ll do anything— I won’t write lies! I won’t make up negative things about you anymore!”
“Hm…” he murmured, tilting his head again, eyes bright behind the mask. “That’s a good start,”
He took a slow step closer, and even in the suit, the closeness made your chest flutter uncontrollably. “Since you’ve already got my attention,” he added softly. “You don’t have to… keep pretending.”
A shiver ran through you—not from fear, but from relief, awe, and a rush of something dangerously sweet. Your heartbeat finally began to slow from its frantic pace. The tension between you felt fragile but alive, charged with possibility.
There he was— the hero who had inspired you in secret —and maybe, just maybe, he was letting you in. You didn’t even know how he looked like, what his real name was, but you didn’t even care.
But then,
Deku gently pushed your hands down, taking a slow step back, glancing towards your window. His posture shifted slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing—but there was a quiet purpose in his movement.
“I should go… for now,” he said softly, voice calm behind the mask, almost gentle.
Your chest tightened, panic bubbling up. “Wait! Wait—please!” you called, sprinting after him, voice trembling.
“Don’t go!” Your fingers clenched around his bicep, gripping tightly as if your hold alone could keep him grounded.
“Just—stay! Please?” The words left you urgent, determined, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.
“I’m sure… you don’t even have time for dating with this hero life… or am I wrong?” Your voice was quiet, thoughtful.
He stood silently, hands twitching at his sides, fighting the urge to touch you—but he didn’t. Oh, this hero discipline… always so painfully precise.
“You can trust me! Look around—I’m your fan!”
You stretched your hand to gesture around, every inch of your room plastered with posters and photos of him, every shelf filled with action figures, fan made comic books, newspapers in which he appeared… Everything was a confession, proof of your obsession.
“I would never make this… something bad,” you continued, voice shaking but steadying. “I wouldn’t even tell anyone about this!” Desperation bled through your words, eyes pleading.
“Or is it that you don’t find me attractive?” you asked softly. “If… if that’s it, I understand…”
“No,” he answered simply. Short, firm, unwavering. Relief flooded your chest like sunlight breaking through clouds.
“Then? Will you let me?” The words were almost a whisper, tremulous, hanging between you like fragile glass.
“Not tonight,” he replied, shaking his head, his voice soft but resolute.
“Then… when?” The question slipped out before you could think, vulnerability raw in your tone.
“Let’s wait,” he said carefully, each word deliberate, measured. “See if you keep your word. Then… I will come to you.” Even through the mask, you could feel the faint curve of a smile in his tone—warm, teasing, and sure.
“Okay…” you exhaled, letting go reluctantly. Of course it wouldn’t be this easy. After months of tearing him down, his skepticism was understandable.
“Promise me,” you called as he moved towards the window, voice small but resolute.
“I promise,” he offered a firm nod, as he opened the lock and stepped onto the ledge.
His movements were precise, fluid—the kind that came from years of training, agility perfected. He waved at you, a playful flick of his hand, before launching himself into the night. A black webline shot out, anchoring to the neighboring buildings, pulling him swiftly and silently out of sight.
Your eyes followed him, mind spinning with a storm of disbelief, excitement, and longing.
***
Izuku moved through the city silently, the shadows swallowing him like a second skin.
Normally, he would call Katsuki for advice, reassurance, or just to vent—but tonight, he craved solitude. The confessions you’d made weighed heavily in his chest, twisting him in ways he hadn’t expected, leaving his thoughts tangled in knots.
Was it right for him to respond to your advances?
The question gnawed at him, sharp and insistent. The power imbalance pressed against his conscience like a thorn, even as a soft, insistent desire coiled in his stomach.
You liked him, desperately, urgently, and he had seen it in your eyes, heard in your voice, felt it in the tremble of your hands. Yet that didn’t erase the rules he lived by, the moral code that governed both hero and man.
He had never used his fame for this. His life was buried under hero work, college, training, endless obligations. Attraction from someone else? That had never been on his radar. And now, here you were, daring, honest, vulnerable… impossible to ignore.
As he neared his dorm, he dropped lightly into a dark alley, the soles of his boots thudding against the concrete. He checked the yellow backpack tucked carefully in his usual spot—everything in its place.
He discarded his suit, then he scanned the street again, making sure no one had witnessed him. He then smoothened the clothes under the suit, which were pretty wrinkled now, and started walking.
Every step towards his dorm felt cautious, aware. Even in solitude, the memory of your words lingered, warm and dangerous.
And for the first time in a long time, Izuku realized he wasn’t just thinking about heroics, duty, or morality—he was thinking about you.
***
“Took you long enough, nerd,” Katsuki drawled as soon as Izuku stepped in, locking the door behind him, eyes turning towards his friend with curiosity and mischief.
“What’s with the long face? Pussy not that good?” he smirked, and Izuku pressed his hands to his face in immediate shame.
“We didn’t do anything,” he muttered, slumping onto his bed, a sigh escaping him.
“Why not?” Katsuki raised an incredulous brow.
“Because… I can’t just trust her yet,” Izuku admitted, voice soft, conflicted.
“Then what the hell did you do?” Katsuki pushed, leaning forward on the arm of his chair, sharp gaze fixed on him.
“We talked. She promised she won’t write lies nor bad-mouth me anymore… and I promised I’d come back to her,” Izuku explained carefully.
“You’ll go back, right?” Katsuki prodded, tone light but insistent, sensing something.
“I… don’t know,” Izuku said quietly, eyes flicking away, uncertainty threading through his expression.
“Dude, what the fuck? She clearly wants you.” Katsuki shook his head, half-laughing.
“I’m not used to this,” Izuku whispered.
“Then get fucking used to it. Trust me, she’d spiral if you don’t go.” Katsuki leaned back. “And you’d be surprised how many people want both Deku and Izuku. Have more confidence.”
Izuku blinked, a small, smile tugging at his lips. “You think so?”
“I know so, nerd,” Katsuki said firmly, voice softening just enough to sound like a friend instead of a tormentor.
The room fell quiet, the only sound the faint hum of electronics and distant traffic.
Finally, Izuku let himself exhale. “Thank you, Kacchan,” he murmured, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.
“Shut the hell up,” Katsuki replied, tone uneven, already turning back to his game.
“Okay…”
***
The weeks that followed were… quiet.
Izuku noticed it first in passing, half-distracted between patrols and lectures, when a familiar name appeared on his screen. No sharp headlines. No insinuations. No carefully worded doubts about his motives or timing.
Then days turned into weeks. And still—nothing.
Japan News Today continued its broadcasts, your voice still calm and professional, but the tone had changed. When Deku appeared now, it was factual. Neutral. Sometimes even… fair. You reported rescues without commentary. You cited sources properly. You didn’t speculate. You didn’t twist.
You didn’t say his name with venom anymore.
Izuku would tell himself it shouldn’t matter. That this was how things were supposed to be. That this was simply you doing your job correctly at last. And yet he found himself watching anyway.
Then a month passed. A full month where you kept your word. And somewhere along the way, the silence you left behind lodged itself firmly in his thoughts.
He’d catch himself wondering what you were doing when you weren’t on air. Whether you still saw him as your favorite hero. Whether you still thought about him the way you had that night—desperate, hopeful, exposed.
Whether you were still waiting.
The realization crept up on him slowly, unwelcome and undeniable: He wanted you to like him. To wait for him. To look for him.
He wanted you.
***
The city lights painted long streaks across his mask as Izuku perched atop the dorm roof, gloved hands gripping the edge. The smell of rain, the hum of traffic, people’s voices— this would usually calm him down. But tonight it only heightened the tension coiling in his chest.
Your words echoed in his mind, your desperation, your honesty, the way your eyes had glimmered with both fear and hope. He’d been so careful, so principled, yet the idea of finally letting himself act—letting himself be for you—sent a thrill through him he wasn’t used to feeling.
He flexed his fingers, the gloves creaking softly, and exhaled. His thoughts teetered between restraint and temptation, duty and desire.
And for the first time since he took this role, he let himself go.
With a flick of his wrist, a dark webline shot out, anchoring to the nearby building. He swung effortlessly through the skyscrappers, droplets of rain hitting his mask with a faster pace as he moved.
He had a direction, a purpose.
Tonight was not about other people, it was about him.
When he finally saw your apartment complex, he shot another black web, landing on the balcony of your apartment with practiced ease.
His mask glinted under the soft glow of the streetlights, eyes scanning for any sign of surveillance or onlookers. Everything clear.
He pressed the spider shaped like button on his chest, turning the camouflage off. He felt a tiny hum of vibration, reminding him of the subtle tech enhancements Katsuki had installed—the incorporated microphones, the motion sensors and the web-cam alerts.
There was no way back from this.
***
The noise outside your room made your ears perch up, then your whole body moved without thinking. You quickly sprinted towards your balcony, the door opening in a hurry, the click of the lock echoing through the night.
You froze in the doorway, spine stiffening, chest rising and falling rapidly.
He turned towards your figure in an instant, spidey-senses buzzing in his ears. He looked almost terrifying in the dim light of the night. The shadows hugged him, the mask hiding his expression but not the quiet confidence in his stance.
“You stayed true,” he murmured, voice low, calm, but threaded with something darker, something possessive. “That… tells me a lot about you.”
Your lips parted slightly, breath hitching. “I… I’m trying,” you whispered, voice small. “I won’t ever lie. I won’t—”
He raised a gloved finger, tilting his head, cutting you off gently but firmly.
“I don’t need words. Actions speak louder.” His eyes, bright behind the mask, lingered on you, and you felt heat bloom in your chest.
Slowly, he stepped closer, deliberately, measuring every movement. The slight rustle of the suit as he shifted made your stomach tighten.
“You like me,” he said, voice almost a whisper, and yet it carried across the small space between you.
“You’re drawn to me. Desperate for me to be here.” His fingers twitched to touch you more, yet showing the faintest sign of his restraint.
“And I’ve been thinking… maybe I like that. Maybe I like seeing you want me, and knowing I could… respond.”
You shivered, heart thudding against your ribs. “I—I do want you,” you admitted softly, almost trembling. “I’ve wanted… this… since the first moment I saw you,” you remind him, using the same words from a month ago.
His chest rose slowly as he inhaled, a deep, steadying breath.
“You’ve been honest,” he said, voice calm, magnetic, almost commanding. “And I… respect that. But you also need to understand—there are boundaries. Rules.”
“But—” you began, reaching instinctively for him.
He stepped closer at the same time—not enough to let you touch him properly, just enough for your hands to brush his suit. The contact was brief, controlled, and it sent a slow coil of heat through your stomach.
“I’m not saying no,” he continued, his tone softening, assuring. “I’m just reminding you that I can’t show you fully who I am.”
“Knowing that,” he added quietly, eyes fixed on yours behind the mask, “I hope you won’t regret choosing to do… this.”
He emphasized the word with a slow, deliberate motion of his hand between you.
You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your stomach. The moment felt fragile, dangerous—but you didn’t care.
“I don’t care,” you whispered, voice firm despite the tremor beneath it. “I want this. I want you.”
The dim apartment light spilled across his figure—and you couldn’t help but stare.
The suit clung to him like a second skin, every line and curve accentuated. His chest was toned and firm, rising and falling with steady, calm breaths. His arms—strong, sculpted, working under the tight material—looked made to hold, to grip.
His legs were long, powerful, perfectly sculpted, and even through the tight fabric you could see the muscles flex with every step. The suit outlined everything, highlighting the disciplined hours of hero training, the strength contained behind that calm exterior.
Your fingers itched, your eyes drank him in, memorizing every curve, every line, the taut confidence of his stance.
“You…” you began, voice trembling with awe and desire, “…you’re perfect. I can’t… I just want you. All of you.”
Your hands moved again, fingers brushing against his chest, tracing the outline of his pecs through the suit. “I’ve never… wanted anyone like this,” you admitted, breath hitching.
A slow, deliberate smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth behind the mask when your hand found his. You slowly stepped back, urging him to come inside your room, and he let you, he followed suit, without resistance.
“You’re… bold,” he said, voice soft but edged with amusement.
“Bold enough to drag me in…” he muses quietly, letting the words linger.
“Yes,” you breathed, stepping closer, pressing against him, letting him feel the urgency in your body.
He inhaled slowly, eyes dark behind the lenses, letting the silence stretch between you like a taut wire. Then, almost imperceptibly, he let out a soft, measured laugh, low and teasing.
“Alright,” he murmured, voice almost a whisper. “If that’s what you want…”
Your hands trembled slightly as they hovered near his chest, fingers brushing the fabric of his suit. Your voice came out quieter than you intended, almost a whisper, but steady enough to carry your meaning.
“C-Can I… kiss you?”
The question hung in the air between you, your pulse thundered in your ears, every nerve alive with anticipation.
Deku froze for a second, mind racing, his own desire raising to the surface. He inhaled, then, after a moment that stretched long enough to make your stomach flutter in anxious hope, he gave a subtle nod.
A small, controlled smile curved beneath his mask. “Alright,” he murmured softly, voice low and gentle.
Your fingers moved instinctively, slowly lifting the edge of his mask just enough to reveal the line of his lips. His eyes stayed locked on yours, green shining through the lenses, calm and magnetic, giving you all the permission you needed.
You leaned in slowly, hesitant, savoring the moment, and pressed your lips against his.
The kiss was soft at first, a careful brush, testing boundaries. His hands stayed at his sides, restrained but ready, his chest rising steadily under your touch.
Your hands clutched his suit, urging him closer, guiding him. “Please…” you breathed, pressing your body against his. “Touch me…”
The soft, restrained control melted from his posture in an instant. His lips parted against yours, soft whimpers escaping from you as he finally gave in. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you flush against him, body to body.
Your knees almost buckled at the way he bent to deepen the kiss, his figure hovering over you. His tongue traced yours with careful, teasing exploration at first, then with a growing urgency that matched the desperate rhythm of your heartbeat.
You moaned in his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, lips moving against his, matching the fast pace. With each second that passed, the kissed grew more urgent, desperate, needing him in every way possible. The dirty, wet sounds and your breaths bounced off the wall, echoing in the room.
Feeling heat spread through your body, you carefully backed up, guiding him towards your bed without breaking the kiss. He followed your movements, gloved hands kneading your waist through your thin night gown as you felt the bed frame hitting the back of your knees.
You finally parted from him, looking up.
“Sit down, please,” you asked on a breathy voice.
Deku nodded, sliding onto your bed beside your plushies of him. They looked almost comical now that the real thing—stronger, larger, undeniably alive—was right there.
Your hands rose to his masked face, thumbs brushing over the lips you’d kissed, tracing the swell and redness left from your fevered moments together.
He hummed softly, the vibration through the mask sending warmth into your chest.
“Let me make you feel good, yeah?” You asked with a smile, as you quickly dropped to your knees between his legs.
He stayed still for a heartbeat, then relaxed, letting you guide the moment.
Your hands started roaming over his strong thighs, tracing the taut muscles until your fingers brushed the waistband of his pants.
Slowly, deliberately, you slipped your fingertips under the fabric and tugged it down. He lifted his hips, giving you room, then settled back onto the bed, white lenses locked on yours.
Your hand slid upward, pressing against the black fabric of his briefs. You cupped him, feeling the hardness of his dick straining beneath your palm, teasing him just enough to draw out a soft whimper.
Gently, you lowered your hand, freeing him. His thick, veiny cock sprang into view, tip already leaking with pre-cum. Your mouth watered at the sight, at his grith, eyes following every vein, every curve…
Your gaze flipped to his face, seeing the way his teeth caught his bottom lip, head steady, watching you intently.
“I want to… suck it. Please?” you whispered, hands inching closer in his lap, body leaning forward, heat pooling at the anticipation.
He nodded, and you let out a quiet huff, craving even a hint of his voice.
You moved your attention back towards his aching cock. Your hands wrapped around his aching length, giving a few deliberate pumps, before you stuck out your tongue, starting to lick all over his leaking tip, tasting the saltiness. He shifted under your touch, chest heaving faster.
He let out a guttural moan when you finally took him in your mouth, slowly starting to move down his length, guiding him to the back of your throat.
You began to bob your head and swirl your tongue, exploring every ridge and vein, welcoming him deeper into your wet heat. Every movement was a promise, every sound a spark that pulled him closer to the edge.
Your eyes involuntarily closed at the feeling of him twitching in your mouth, making you eager to bring him close to the edge.
His grunts and moans became louder now, hips bucking forward, watching how you struggle to keep up the pace, yet refuse to stop your motions. Neither the tears prickling at your eyes nor the burning sensation of your throat stopped you to reach your goal.
When his hips started shaking and his breath became irregular you sped up your movements, pushing him towards the edge.
He came with a loud, fractured moan, the sound tearing straight through you and settling low in your stomach. The sensation followed immediately after—hot, sudden, overwhelming—as he spilled down your throat, leaving you breathless, eyes watering.
Still, you didn’t stop.
You swallowed every drop of cum, continuing to suck him dry until his large, gloved hand tangled hard in your hair, harshly pulling at the strands to get you off of him.
Your chest heaved, sweat glistened on your temples and chest. Your cheeks were flushed, lips all wet with spit and cum, as you stared up at him with half lidded eyes.
“Felt good?” He asked, voice low, breathy. “…sucking me off with the same mouth you used to talk trash about me?” he still tried keeping his composure even if his orgasm left him a total wreck.
You should have felt shame at his words, should have crawled into a ditch and hid there forever, but all you could focus on was his voice.
His real voice.
Loud and clear.
Without the voice modulator, without the mask. His real voice… It was soft, gentle, not very deep, almost boyish and yet so sexy and so fucking addicting, it made your thighs brush together and your heart skip a beat.
“Yes… uh… can you move back on the bed?” You asked impatient, feeling the wettness stick to your underwear as you looked at him.
He quickly looked at your neatly made bed, then at his boots.
“I might get your sheets dirty—“
“Fuck the sheets, move back, please,” you were practically begging and he let out a small laugh, but still complied to your request.
He moved his body on your mattress, until his was back was pressed against the wooden headboard, sitting prettily with his cock hanging out from his briefs, pants dragged around his muscular thighs, sweat and cum forming a sticky mess.
You slipped on the bed, ignoring the stinging pain of your knees as you crawled towards him and settled in his lap.
For a second, you just looked at him, analyzing every visible part of him. His rosy lips, his strong jawline, then going down over his v-line, following the veins that lead to his groin. Your gaze landed on his strong thighs, frowning at the small clusters of freckles dusted over his scarred skin.
“You have freckles?” You asked surprised as you studied the pattern. “You have them on your face too?”
“Yes, and other parts,” he added with a smile, knowing his response will stir you up.
And it did.
You groaned loudly, fingers gripping the material of his suit, head falling against his strong chest.
“You are gonna kill me,” you almost cried, and he let out a laugh, sending a warm feeling through your body.
“I wouldn’t even have guessed you liked me this much,” he teased and looked back up at him.
“You have no idea…” you sigh. “Let me show you, yeah?”
Your fingers quickly reached the hem of your night gawn, pulling it over your head in a swift motion and throwing it on the floor.
His lips parted then closed, remining quiet as he studied your exposed chest. He followed the swell of your breasts, the small beads of sweat forming between them and your hard, sensitive nipples.
You smiled as you felt the tip of his dick hit your stomach. You reached down to wrap it around him again with one hand while the other went to take one of his and place it on your chest.
“You like them?” you tease lightly as you give his cock a few pumps, feeling his large hand squeezing the soft flesh of your breast.
“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath.
“Ride me,” he added suddenly, taking you by suprise.
“R-ride?” you stammered, taken aback by his request.
He seemed displeased with how long it took you to comply, so he took matters into his hands. He trailed his fingers down until they reached the hem of your underwear.
In a second you hear the sound of clothing ripping, and when you look down, you see the material of your panties in half, exposing your drooling core to him.
“Deku— what—“
“Shh, it’s okay, you were taking too long,” he explains softly as his hands move to your hips, fingers digging in your flesh. He shifted you, guiding you until you were perfectly above his aching cock, then slowly let you sink on it.
You didn’t try to wiggle away from his touch, stomach twisting in anticipation as your slippery, wet cunt finally made contact with his leaking tip, making you let out a gasp.
Your hands found his broad shoulders as you let him move you however he pleased.
“You seem too wet and ready for me,” he mused watching how his dick slipped between your wet folds with ease. “What were you doing before I came?” He asked on a serious note, eyes leaving your form and skimming over your room.
“Ah— Mhm!” You moaned loudly at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, head thrown back, mouth parting wide, failing to give him a reply.
“Oh,” he smiles as his gaze lands on a used dildo that was clumsily thrown behind your nightstand.
“Hmm… tell me,” he murmured, voice low, eyes studying your reaction like a lab report behind the lenses. “Is my dick better than the toy you were using?” His cock was buried inside you, hips shifting slightly as he tested your response, watching every flicker of your expression, every shiver that ran through you.
“Yes! Yes!” You nodded desperately, as he started moving you up and down, walls contracting and relaxing with each motion.
He grunts in response as he bucks into you.
“Ah!” You cry out, feeling the warmth coil in your stomach.
His moderate pace changed with each passing second, turning it into something faster, deeper, bruising your sweet spot, making your body arch into him, tits bouncing deliciously as you become a moaning and whimpering mess.
“I like you,” you babbled, too fucked out too even register your words.
“Mhm,” he mused quietly, focusing on his movements, brows furrowed behind his mask.
“Deku—Ah!”
“ I like you… I like you so m-much—“ you sniffed and he clicked his tongue.
“I get it—I get it. Just be quiet now,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips as he bounced you against him, irritation and desire mixing in every movement.
“But—“ you were cut off by something being shoved in your mouth, soon realizing it was your own underwear.
“Just keep quiet for me, okay? I—shit—can’t focus with you like this,” he groaned, a low, breathy sound escaping him as your walls clenched around him.
“Fuck,” he bit out, teeth catching his lip as his fingers anchored deep into your hips.
The pressure snapped something in you.
Your body convulsed as he hit that sensitive spot again and again, the sensation sharp and overwhelming. Your fingers clawing into his shoulders as you tried (and failed) to stay quiet. The sound that left you was muffled, broken, nothing you could control.
The tension coiled tight in your stomach, fast and familiar.
Your hands pressed against his chest as your orgasm tore through you, heat flooding your body all at once. Your eyes rolled back, your muscles giving in as you went slack against him, breathless and spent.
He followed almost immediately.
A strained groan tore from his throat as his body tensed beneath you, veins standing out along his neck. His grip tightened reflexively as he came, hips jerking once before stilling, his cock twitching inside you as he spilled with a shuddering breath.
Then—nothing. Just the sound of your breathing, uneven and shaking.
You stayed like that for a moment, bodies pressed together, neither of you moving, the room filled only with the quiet aftermath and the faint hum of the city outside.
That was when the buzz sounded.
Soft at first—almost easy to miss—but close.
His body jolted slightly, the reality snapping back into him as the sound came again, sharper this time.
Deku instantly recogned the sound and then— it hit him: in the heat of the moment, you must have pressed something on his chest. Something you shouldn’t have.
Before he could even do anything about it, a voice blasted through his in-ear, scaring you and making him groan.
“DEKU YOU FUCKING NERD—TURN YOUR FUCKING MIC OFF NEXT TIME!”
ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, dubcon (drunk sex, but reader is drunker than izuku), noncon elements (not from izuku), softdom!pro-hero!ex-boyfriend!izuku, sub!afab!fem!hearing quirk!reader, reader is wearing a dress, thigh-fucking/pussy job, fluffy, relationship reconciliation, established relationship, cum on pussy, begging, jealousy, hurt/comfort (?)/angst(?), breeding kink BOO, praise, aftercare!! i didn't proof read too intensely because i got lazy and i need to clean my room, possibly ooc izuku but u know what u meet me at the a/n at the bottom...
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: happy new year ^_^ does this count as oc reader? idk bro... just modify the quirk u got in ur head for your self-insert and slap super hearing on and make yourself op #wishfufillment #ibemakingmyselfopaf... (although i kept it pretty vague so it could be a base ability or part of a stronger quirk)
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: a creep at a new year's eve party tries to forces himself onto you but luckily, your ex-boyfriend, number one pro-hero, midoriya izuku, saves you. he then takes you home in his car.
ꉂ ᵎᵎ w/c: ~4.6k
a warmth clouds your mind. it spreads throughout your body, slipping down your arms into your fingertips, and brushing far too close to your core. you shouldn’t have drunk so much tonight. but how could you not— especially knowing your ex-boyfriend would be at the party?
it was bad enough that izuku had just become the number one pro-hero. it was worse that he wore the title so effortlessly. handsome, taller than you remembered, still painfully sweet and charming— calling him the biggest fumble of your dating history wouldn’t be an exaggeration. and although you never spoke about it, no one would have blamed you for the fact that you weren’t over him— not even if four months have passed by.
the breakup had been amicable, or at least on the surface— one-sided in a quiet, aching way. you had said you weren't ready for something serious, and izuku — gentle as always — didn't push, not wanting to trap you in something you weren’t sure about, even if the two of you had been together for nearly half a year.
and so, when you saw him again, standing alone with some pretty girl on the balcony, the glass door between you a fragile barrier to their conversation, your chest caved in. was that his date? was he going to kiss her at midnight? you could only watch as he took her palm in his, studying it with the same familiar thoughtful expression he had once given you. an ache tore through you instantly, sharp and unrelenting in its carnage, and tempted you briefly in using your quirk to eavesdrop on their conversation. instead, you reached for another drink, hoping it would drown out the sorrow threatening to consume you whole.
from then on, the night became a blur. loud party music bled together with the frantic thrum of your pulse, each beat echoing in your ears. jokes from a man you’d never spare a second glance at while sober felt funnier than they actually were— and more importantly, his hands on your hips as you two danced were warm enough to numb the pain of losing the only man who had ever treated you right.
one foot in front of the other, you reminded yourself as you stumbled down the hallway, fingers dragging along the wall for balance. the man was guiding you somewhere. somewhere private. where was he taking you? his car? home? wait, was it your home— or his? did he even know where you lived? did you even know where you lived? three… no— seven? ugh... what was your address again?
“we’ll have some fun, okay, baby?”
his voice, syrupy and low, felt almost sickening in your ear, a sticky smarminess dripping from every word that made your stomach twist.
“ah… wait… i can’t…”
the grip on your waist tightened, his jaw clenching as you tried to pull away from him. “why not?” he demands. “didn’t we just have a good time?”
did you? all you remember was something hard grinding against your ass while you tried not to step on other people’s feet.
“i haven’t done it in a while… i can’t…”
“sure you can,” he insisted, his tone soft but carrying an edge, guiding you toward the exit, moving fast as if no one should see. “i’m not really the sort of guy that likes when a girl is too active anyway.”
“ah… please, no… i need to text my friend to pick me up…”
just as he’s about to offer some sort of coaxing response, a shout of your name from down the hall cuts through, grabbing both of your attention.
“hey!” izuku smiled, cheeks rosy from a combination of running and the one or two drinks he's had, demeanor disarming as ever. “i’ve been looking for you all night— you're really just gonna leave without saying hi?”
the pushy man’s expression falters, brows furrowing as his eyes dart between you and izuku— the latter of which easily dwarfs him. “excuse me,” he nearly snarls, forcing a smile, “me and her were just about to leave so—”
“oh, forgive me,” izuku smoothly interrupted, holding his hand out as if he had forgotten himself, “midoriya izuku, number one pro-hero— and you are?”
the guy doesn’t bother answering, his hand slithering up to rest on your waist, either defiantly ignoring or oblivious to the quiet weight of izuku’s introduction. “her boyfriend,” he lied, eyes narrowing as he’s forced to look up. “look, she’s really drunk right now, so i’m just trying to take her home—”
“what’s her middle name?”
“excuse me?”
“if you’re her boyfriend— what’s her middle name?”
“i-i don’t—”
“okay, heres an easier one: what’s her favorite fruit? what's her favorite song? or actually— what's the name of the stuffed animal that sits on her bed?”
your eyes could barely stay open, leaving you to rely almost entirely on your hearing to follow the conversation — which was something that usually wouldn’t be a problem, since that’s how you often navigated the world — but tonight, with alcohol muddling your quirk, the sounds you typically depended on seemed shrouded in a filmy haze.
regardless, as the man’s teeth ground together and his grip around you loosened, you knew he had come to the conclusion you weren’t worth the trouble.
“man, fuck—” he clicked his tongue, fists clenching by his sides in a hollow threat, “you want her that damn bad, you can have her. fucking lame-ass cock blocking motherfucker…”
with each step of his fading presence, your body swayed without his support, hands reaching out to catch yourself as the floor spun dangerously close. but luckily, izuku’s broad chest acted as a cushion to stop your descent.
“let’s take you home, okay?” he murmured, his voice tender, yet tinged with a strange melancholy.
you could only nod, the heat of his body a sensation you’d been dreaming about almost every night. “he’s not my boyfriend,” you find yourself mumbling for whatever reason. izuku doesn’t respond.
and so there you were, slumped in the passenger seat of izuku’s sedan — a car that somehow felt much smaller than you remembered — helpless as a never-ending cargo train blocked the road to your house, due to a stubborn herd of cows squatting on the tracks.
it was expectantly quiet. a gentle snow had just begun drifting down from the starry night, landing softly onto the roof of his car, each resulting tiny tap twinkling and pure. you had always liked the sound of snow for that reason. if only you could actually hear it now— the haze dulling your senses felt as if it was beckoning you closer and closer to the nearby edge of insanity.
your forehead presses against the dashboard, your stomach twisting with unwanted regret. “i shouldn’t be in this car,” you mumble aloud, unsure if you were speaking to yourself, telling him, or just stating the obvious.
“don’t lay like that,” is all izuku says, brushing past your concerns. “bad for your back. adjust the chair so you can lay against it instead.”
“i don’t know how,” you confess quietly, your tone making his lips curl in amusement, and then something softer, sadder. he unbuckles his seatbelt to lean over you, repositioning the seat so that you can rest against it properly.
as he moves, his arm grazes your thigh, making your breath hitch involuntarily. memories, vivid and unwelcome, surge through your mind, tugging at your chest, and a soft, almost pained groan escapes you as nostalgia and longing collide. “i really need to go home...” you murmur, turning your head to the side away from him.
“i know,” he says gently, his gaze flicking to your face for just a moment, “i’m sure the train will move soon.”
you let out a heavy sigh, one hand rising to press against your forehead, your eyes shutting tight in concentration. “i drank too much… i can’t feel my quirk… this is so bad…”
“it’ll be back in the morning,” izuku assures you, his eyes drifting back to the road, only to be met with the sight of the obnoxious train still in the way.
another sigh escapes your lips, your head falling back against the seat as a mixture of exhaustion and frustration twist through you. “no… i need my quirk to sleep… i can’t sleep without my quirk…”
“can’t sleep without your quirk?” he questions warmly, an eyebrow arching as he finds himself charmingly confused. “i feel like it’d be better without it.”
“no…” you mumble, head lolling forward until your chin rests on your chest, “i need it… i can’t sleep without... listening to your heartbeat…”
as the words tumble out before you can stop them, another layer of heat rushes to your face, your eyes snapping toward him in a sudden panic. “i, wait— that’s not—” you stammer, the abrupt surge of sobriety making your voice frantic, “i didn’t, i didn’t mean that…”
your hands rise to cover your face, your body trembling as a tide of embarrassment and shame washed over you. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry,” you sniffle, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as not only did the truth that you weren't over him lay bare, but also the guilt of having been crossing a line into his privacy. “i don’t mean to— i just… i got used to it… and…”
“heyheyhey,” izuku soothes, his hand reaching out to your shoulder in an effort to ground you. “shh… i’m not mad— hey, hey, shh, shh, shh… it’s okay, you’re okay… please don’t cry… it's okay... you’re good.”
“i’m sorry… i’m so sorry, i…” you snivel once more, your words drifting off as you're not even quite sure what you were apologizing for — be it the break-up, the fact you hadn't moved on, the fact he had to save you from some creep and leave that pretty girl alone at the party, or the fact you were crying in his car — you just felt sorry for it all. “sorry…”
“it’s okay,” he repeats himself, his tone firm in hopes you understand him. instead of being upset, izuku seemed rather… pleased, a teasing smile curling his lips. “seems like you miss me, huh?”
“yeah…” you mumble, nodding sadly as you wipe your nose with a fist, “but you don’t miss me...”
“says who?” he asks, an eyebrow raising as he cants his head.
“says me and that girl you were talking to outside the party…”
he pauses, taking in your body language. “you were listening?”
you shake your head, fumbling with your fingers. “no…. but i knew i would eventually because i wouldn’t be able to control myself… so i took a shot every time i felt the urge to…”
izuku blinks, something soft flickering across his face. “you hate shots.”
you shrug, picking a lint off your dress, and avoiding his gaze. “i hate hearing you flirt with a girl more.”
a chuckle escapes him— he'd be lying if he didn't find your drunk jealousy endearing. “she’s my intern,” he explains carefully, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings, “good girl— just graduated from UA.”
still, you frown, absentmindedly drawing sulky circles into your thigh. “do you call her that?”
“call her what?” he asks, tilting his head puzzledly.
you sigh, lips jutting out into a pout. “a good girl…”
as it dawns on him what you were getting at, he lets out a light snort from his nose. “not the same way i used to call you, that’s for sure.”
your eyes drift up to his, your stare not unlike a cat as several thoughts swim through the fog of your mind, all vying to be the right one to say. “you’re weird,” you mumble at last, slumping back into your seat.
“you’re weirder,” he retorts, a grin tugging at his lips.
you let out a huff. “well, you’re mean.”
“how?”
“i don’t know,” you sigh, watching as the train finally starts to move, “by being the only guy to have ever treated me right so i can’t get over you…”
izuku laughs, the sound airy and light, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. “i’d argue you’re meaner then. girl of my dreams— only to break up with me but listen to my heart despite insisting no contact.”
“i can’t control it…” you murmur, pouting again.
“inhibitionally or technically? ‘cause i know the latter is a lie.”
“the first one…” you mumble again, leaning your head against the cold window, “i don’t listen to your conversations or anything… wouldn’t want to.”
“i know you wouldn’t,” he says gently, eyes drifting back to the road as the train finally clears, the car accelerating gradually. “so… my heart, huh?” he asks after a pause. “what do you like so much about it?”
“stop… i’m drunk…” you mutter, cheeks warming, “i can’t fight against your teasing…”
“it’s my heart!” he chuckles, shaking his head in mirth, “come on— you owe me that much.”
you exhale deeply through your nose, shoulders lifting slightly in a sluggish shrug. “i don't know... i just like it— it’s nice and slow… or at least usually…”
“usually?” he asks, wondering what you meant by that.
you scratch the skin under your ear, hiding your face away from him. “i don’t, um... listen when you’re... uh... doing ‘self-care.”
as the realization of what you were talking about creeps over him, an amused smile plays along his lips. “y’know,” he drawls, “you’re bad liar sober, and a terrible one drunk.”
“i don’t!” you say shrilly, your face flushing with embarrassment. you let out a sigh. “or at least i couldn’t… i didn’t want to hear you moan some other girl’s name.”
“or worse,” he cocks an eyebrow, “hear your name?”
“it wouldn’t have been…”
“it was,” he says easily, “it’s always been.”
another quiet settles between you. izuku pulls into the parking lot of an abandoned mall — a place that was once a breeding ground for the many late-night conversations you used to share — and shuts off the engine, hoping to save gas as he wants to keep the conversation going, not yet ready to leave things where they were. after taking a long, thoughtful look at you, he finally speaks.
“why don’t we get back together?”
“izuku…” you breathe, eyes closing tight as you can't bear to face him.
“i’m serious,” he murmurs, a quiet chuckle escaping, “would it be so bad? what’s stopping us?”
you sigh, only able to offer him a resigned shrug. “i’m too stubborn for my own good…”
“how’s that?”
“i don’t want to admit i made a mistake.”
“to me?” he asks, turning fully in his seat.
you shake your head, letting out another sigh, this one much deeper. “to everyone. to my parents... my friends... your friends... the media… don’t you care what people would say?”
“who cares what they think?”
“you should care what a lot of those people think,” you murmur.
“well, i don’t,” he shrugs, his voice dropping to a tender tone before he speaks again, subconsciously leaning closer to you, “i only care what you think.”
another sigh escapes you, eyes drifting to a faulty street lamp, its weak light struggling to shine. “i don’t know what to think.”
“well,” he laughs, the noise more breath than sound, brushing dust off his console, “just stop thinking for once. just do what you feel.”
“i don’t think i should act on how i’m feeling right now…”
his gaze lifts up to meet yours, curiosity and confusion flickering across his face. “why?”
“because,” you mumble, shifting slightly in your seat, “you’ll say no…”
“how do you know that?” he asks, gentle and soft.
“because… i’m drunk… and you always said you wouldn’t…”
his brows pinch together as he tries to make sense of your words. but then it clicks, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “…you wanna fuck me?”
“stop,” you pout, hurriedly hiding your face — pink with embarrassment — from him. “it’s just cause your car is making me remember things…”
“oh,” he chuckles, inching closer to you, “it’s not because you have a crush on me and you haven’t gotten any in a while?”
your face deepens in color. “how do you know that?”
“i heard you telling that guy earlier,” izuku explains, angling his head to catch your hiding eye. “i found it a little funny— you were always insatiable when we were dating— would've thought you found a way to... get your needs met.”
you huff, folding your arms tightly across your chest, chin tucked down as your gaze flicks away. “I was not insatiable…”
he lets out an amused laugh, leaning back into his seat. “just because you pretend to be shy about it — like how you are right now — doesn’t mean you weren’t.”
you bite the inside of your cheek. “whatever,” you huff again, sulking like a dejected puppy. “now i’m drunk and horny, and you won’t help me…”
the corner of izuku's lips quirk at your dramatic display. “you know you’re not gonna get anywhere trying to rile me up, right? especially not after all these months. you’d be better off using that big-girl voice of yours when asking your ex-boyfriend for a favor.”
“just so you can say ‘no?” you ask, brows knitting together as you huff a third time.
another laugh slips past his lips, hand tapping lazily against the side of his seat. “you really shouldn’t assume things before you try. but, if that’s what you think, you’re welcome to stay 'drunk and horny.”
after a few more moments of whining and grumbling, you eventually lift your gaze through your lowered eyelashes, the pout tugging at your lips almost permanently. “izuku… can we fuck?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.
he taking a slow moment to consider your words, seemingly weighing them in his mind. “we can do something adjacent,” he says at last.
“noooo!” you whine, already knowing exactly what he meant by that, a pang of dissatisfaction twisting through you. “i want your dick…”
the frown on your face only gets you an amused hum from him. “my dick is reserved for my girlfriend, sorry,” he says, shrugging casually.
you pause, the alcohol in your system stinging your eyes as you don’t fully grasp what he means by that at first. it's not until some minutes pass by that your foggy mind registers what he wants you to do, and the timid question slips past your lips: “can i be your girlfriend, izuku?”
“hm,” he begins, trying not to let his smile show through his mock-serious expression, “only if you promise you won’t break up with me again.”
you shake your head, sincere eyes peering up at him. “i won’t,” you promise gently, before quickly moving on. “can i have your dick now?”
“nope.”
“what?” your voice wavers, eyes already shimmering with unshed tears. “why not?”
“‘cause you’re drunk, silly.”
“izuku!” you groan, your hands curling into fists before dropping onto your thighs, unsure what else to do with them.
“yes?” he asks, playing innocent, eager to lend you his ear.
you pout, sinking back into your seat. “you tricked me…”
he snickers, sliding his chair back and patting his lap. “i said we could do something adjacent, didn’t i?”
you let out an exhale, feigning reluctance, yet your hands betray you, already lifting the hem of your dress so that you could wiggle your panties down to your knees. although thigh fucking could never compare to the real thing, hearing the sweet song of his jean's zipper be undone had your pussy drooling in anticipation all the same.
as izuku tugged his briefs down just enough to free his cock — the length just as thick and pretty as you remembered— your back pressed familiarly against his chest, before settling down onto his awaiting lap. with the crown of his cock peeking between your thighs, your clit twitched eagerly against his hardening shaft.
“you’re so wet, baby,” he comments almost smugly, enjoying how your fluttering folds pepper his dick with kisses, “did you miss me or my dick?”
“i missed you,” you whine, trying your best to sit still, even as he teased you. “don’t be mean.”
“i’m not being mean,” he snickers, a hand moving to turn your face towards him so that he could steal a brief kiss from you. a smile curls his lips when he realizes just how much he's yearned for your lips. “i just wanted to know; i missed you too. can you feel how hard i am for you?”
you nod, swallowing deeply as your eyes flick back down to where you were connected, your floaty attention redirected. “i wanna put it inside… please can we put it inside?”
he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder, his words soft, hating to disappoint. “i wanna put it inside just as much as you do, baby,” he practically cooes, “but we haven’t been with each other for months— do you think it’d be right if i fucked you while you were drunk?”
your lips curve sulkily, fingers twisting into the fabric of your dress where it bunches at your hips. “i said it was okay before…” you murmur.
he lets out a soft hum, giving your thigh a squeeze. “just hump my dick like a good girl to get off, okay?”
you stall, an airy pout escaping you. “what about just the tip…?” you suggest, testing your luck.
“no, baby,” he says firmly, his light-hearted laugh brushing against the shell of your ear, “i’m only doing this because i missed you. you already know this is more than i should give you.”
“can you move then?” you ask, flashing him your best puppy-dog eyes, “please, izu?”
“why?” he teases, raising an eyebrow, “because you wanna pretend you’re getting fucked from behind?”
shyly, you nod, ducking your face to the side, your thighs tensing around him. he snorts lightly at your behavior, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “mm. alright,” he murmurs, “squeeze your thighs tight for me, okay?”
as he leans back, you pitch forward, hands grasping the steering wheel for support, and relishing in the sensation of your clit rubbing tenderly against his swollen cockhead.
“ah… feels so good, izu,” you whimper, eyes shutting tight as he gradually begins to increase the speed of his thrusts.
“yeah?” he croons, one hand finding rest on your hip, the other snaking up to rest just below your belly button, “are you imagining it's my dick inside you? hitting you right here?”
“yes— oh my gosh…”
your reactiveness draws a breathy laugh from him, the sound faintly mocking. “poor baby—” he clicks his tongue, “—your pretty little pussy's crying so much for me… you really weren't with anyone while we weren't together? did you at least touch yourself, baby?”
you shake your head, a warmth spreading across your cheeks as liquid truth makes you more honest than you'd like, “i-i didn’t…”
“just like how you never listened to me jacking off?”
“i didnnnnn’t,” you whine, a sloppy moan escaping you as his scarred hands palmed the globes of your ass, before guiding your hips to grind down more roughly against him. “it didn’t feel as good…”
“as good as what, baby?” he asks, briefly pretending not to know the answer, “as good as me touching you?”
“yes...”
a grin tugs at his lips, a satisfied noise escaping through his nose. “couldn't cum without me, baby? needed my fingers to stretch your little pussy out right?”
“and your dick…” you add with a murmur.
“ah, yeah—” he laughs, as if he could forget, “—and my dick. is that why you’re so dick hungry tonight? been thinking about my dick all this time?”
“yes,” you nod, teeth pressing into your lower lip as you try to stop any drool from escaping at the idea, growing more and more needy. “can you put it inside, izu? please? i’ll be so good for you…”
he lets out a doleful sigh, shaking his head. “no, baby... but how about this? i'll take you to my house tonight, and tomorrow when you're sober, i'll fuck you as much as you want, how does that sound?”
“mhm— yeah— ah— okay, i love you so much, izu…”
his heart swells as he hears those words fall from your lips again, the pumping blood then going straight to his throbbing dick, resulting in a throaty groan and a sporadic pace as he struggles to maintain his composure. “i love you too, baby,” he murmurs, “you’re never gonna leave me again, right?”
sensing your own impending orgasm, you nod fervently, babbling, “i p-promise— are you gonna cum? please cum on my pussy, izu— i don’t wanna waste it—”
his fingers dig deeply into the soft flesh of your hips, eyes shutting tight as nearing edge of pleasure sent him down the brief path of fantasy. “mm— i’m gonna get you pregnant one day, okay, pretty girl? gonna make you my pretty wife— be together with you forever, baby — fuck— do you want that, baby? do you want that with me?”
“yes— yeah— i don’t ever wanna break up again— oh my god, i love you izu— m’sorry—”
“shh, shh,” he soothes, interrupting you as drunken regret threatens to overwhelm you, “it’s okay, baby, i’m never gonna let you go again— fuck, gonna paint this gorgeous pussy white, okay?”
as the heartbeat of your clit throbs for release in tandem with his spasming, swollen balls, izuku and you eventually cum together, thick creamy spurts coating your slit in a thin sheen, your gushing pussy drenching his groin in sweet juices almost as if in response.
breathing through the aftershocks, he pulls you close to his chest as you rest, and pulls your panties up for you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he notices how his cum has created a seal between your spent folds and the cotton fabric. his fingers draw subconscious circles in your clothed pussy as he breaks the silence, speaking raspily against your neck.
“tired?”
you nod. “mhm...”
he exhales contently. “let me take you home, okay?”
given your following nod, izuku eases you back into the passenger seat, returning his chair to its original position and turning the car back on. as he backs out of the empty parking lot and onto the main roads, a feeling of bliss envelops your body, and you grow drowsy, drifting into sleep as he drives toward his house.
once the two of you arrive, izuku doesn’t bother waking you, tenderly carrying you through his garage door into the house and up the stairs to his bedroom— a space you haven’t been in for a long time. he settles you onto the bed and carefully removes your dress and bra, before sliding a shirt of his over you. in the lower drawer of his nightstand are a pack of unused make-up wipes, baby wipes, and a pack of women’s underwear— all things he had bought for you a month before your break-up, holding onto them in hopes of being together with you again someday. he gently cleans you with the baby wipes, changing you out of your sticky panties into some fresh ones, and carefully wipes off your make-up. satisfied with his care, izuku changes out of his clothes and lies down beside you, pulling you close.
when a loud firework rings out to celebrate the new year, you nearly flinch awake— your impaired quirk acting up, as it sometimes made you overly sensitive to nearby raucous noise. izuku lets out a soft laugh, pressing your head to his chest so you can focus on his heartbeat and drift back to sleep.
with all that had went down tonight, he almost forgot what day it was, if not for the celebration. “happy new year, baby,” he murmurs, pressing one last gentle kiss to the crown of your head before finally joining you in slumber.
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ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: inspired by this art (i put it at the end not to spoil the fic) HAHA love live superbat!!! (although personally, i think batman shouldn't date anyone...) um, anyways, as i was writing this, i did think about how izuku wouldn't really engage in sex with a drunk reader, but he himself is a bit tipsy here (not enough to not be driving) and there's a level of trust that is established between you and him where it is fine/he is fine in doing adjacent activities, as long as your pleasure is at heart. a/n pt 2 i think this is Not that great OH WELL I HIT POST AND I GO CLEAN MY ROOM
one-shot? | lactation kink | use of the word Daddy lol | slight argument | slightly sleazy behavior
||| He just wanted have some fun at a party didn't think it'd lead to this and while he loves his son dearly he misses you more or at least what he was in |||
A/n; Sorry chat I like it when he's crazy I'll make him Sweet again I promise and kinda had to rap it up at the end lol also chapter 2 should be up by Saturday or idk lol take this as another treat
@cafekitsune ; dividers | ko-fi.ejieji
||| Pulling into your driveway with a hum, he turns off his car and enters your home with your son in hand, walking in as if he owns the place and somehow, had no struggles with the newly installed lock..... you'd have to fix that. You're upstairs still getting dressed unaware of the familiar stranger downstairs carefully unpacking your son's stuff and placing him gently in his cot as he was still sleeping and lord knows you didn't want him awake at this hour, you finally make your way down the hall completely startled by his presence, while he leans against your son's door frame back facing you.
"Just letting yourself in I see" you almost startle him, turning around to face you with a rather content facial expression given he usually comes by annoyed. " Still dressing up for little ol me I see?" " Yeah you're real funny now get out of my house I have my son, there's no other reason for you to be here anymore" you reply sternly "ouch a bit mean today are we? What are you in some kind of rush?" he say as he walks towards you, making you pace back to the room you once came, placing either hand on the door frame of your bedroom caging you in your own room "yes actually I have a date to go o-" the word date lights a fire in him before you can even finish your sentence "and who will be watching our son? Hm?" He says in a stoic rush as if you personally offended him, you not sure if he's mad about you leaving your son so soon or the date but neither is his business "his auntie that will also have her own children over since your so damn nosey and need to know everything, gosh get off my a-" with that he walks forwards stumbling you into your room, on to the foot of your bed kicking the door closed with his leg and leaning against the edge of your bed "your just gonna leave our kid with a random? Not very mother like y/n" his condescending tone and pushy behavior sets you off " yeah wouldn't need to do any of that if you weren't such a dick now would I?" "So not only do you admit your only going on this date to fill a hole I left but that you also want me? Y/n I'm so- I'm so touched i-" he jokes "get the fuck out already my god" , "yeah no can-do babe plus I have something to give you, might help too" "what did you say?" "nothing- " he walks forwards as he extends his arms over you tripping you onto your bed slightly as your trying to create distance between y'all, trying to turn around so you can get up, he in turn is able to cage you down fist by either of yours "what the hell are you implying, get the hel-" his hands leaves the bed as he proceeded to roam your body slowly.
"Let go of me you-" you try to squirm your way out but his big ass biceps are definitely stronger than you and your voice is betraying you, something he picks up on " yeah? You telling me you don't like this? Hm? I can-" he some how made it in to your bra tweaking and pulling at your soft nipples between his fingers " I can feel your ass grinding against me y'know, clearly you can't hate it that much" you try and leave his grasp once again but him predicting it folds down more causing you to be almost against the bed as he leads his hands down to your hips pressing firmly in them to keep you from moving "let go of me you dick I need to agnh~" with out you realizing again his hand made it's way under your dress pressing delicately onto your clit "mhh keep going I'm listening sweetheart" you squirm more, that unfortunately for you, only leads to more pressure as he begins to grind his rising hard-on on to your ass as you move.
You were always.... Easy when it came to him not on purpose, he always had his ways of course wether you liked them or not and because of this, this how you currently found yourself pool chair folded taking what you would consider the biggest thing you've ever had inside you, he was bullying his fat and long dick into your poor swollen pussy sparring no mercy to your mewls, "yeah ? You still want to go out with some guy you don't know hm? Or stay here and make me a daddy again?" Pressing you and his dick deeper into the mattress knee's almost touching your shoulders, he somehow picks up the speed and intensity, practically slamming his dick inside you too intense for you to even focus " yeah that's right my babys too cock drunk to even think straight hmmh? " He says grabbing you by the cheeks squishing them together "I asked you a question be a good girl and answer" he says as he painstakingly slows down "yes yes yes I'm your good girl I'll be so good please keep going please izuku i-" he can't even wait for to finish begging probably before he plows into you again this time with deeper strokes as if he's trying to reach something, this not being enough for him he bends forward even more reaching your plump breast, swollen from the milk you've been producing and tugs at them, sucking harshly as if he was dying from thirst and massages them firmly coming back up with a pop and giving them a firm squeeze squirting milk onto himself "aghuhhm your wasting ittt please izu-" he grabs you by your kneck gently deepening his strokes as he nears your ear " hmm not wasting anything love, just let me- ughmd let me have this-" you can feel him twitching as he slows down once more despite your whines.
He slowly humps you as he looks down in admiration, " such a good girl for me so good" he says this as you are getting deeper into the bed only getting a moan in response "hmm what was that I can't hear ya?" He tugs at your nipples once more landing on his tounge spraying milk into his mouth the sensation being the last straw making you cum " mhhh that's it come on my cock, all yours baby all for you" he says almost condescendingly, a phone ring brings him out of his thoughts and he sees your phone vibrating on your dresser as he goes to pick it up he sees the caller ID and realizes it must be your date and without a second thought he throws it across the bed getting ready to make sure you forget all about your lil date.
cw : ftm & poc reader, husband & soft dom izuku, pet names, reader gets called bunny once, slight feminization, cowgirl, prone bone, headlocks, dumbification, overstim, squirting, established relationship, creampie & implied aftercare
a / n : working on requests and an izuku fic rn but i need to get this out i’m ITCHING for him. this is very self indulgent i feel the need to remind you guys that i haven’t forgotten my original target audience. hi guys ^—^
izuku remembers when you were mean.
well, technically, you’re still mean—just not to him. which is more than fair in his eyes. it’s just that, izuku remembers when you hated everyone including him. the first time you sparred, he’s pretty sure you tried to give him a concussion on minimum, and a cracked skull at worst.
you’re not that mean anymore. he prefers it this way, really.
especially when you’re like this—settled on top of him, drool that you don’t seem to notice, or care about, sliding down your chin as you bounce on top of him without a care in the world after your third orgasm. yeah. he prefers it like this.
“you’re so sweet to me,” izuku has a dumb smile on his face, keeping those scarred hands on your hips to guide you every once in a while. he doesn’t think you’re listenin’, but that’s okay. “so pretty like this.”
the words are followed with a kiss on your cheek and a thick thumb on your clit, your little determined movements stuttering for a moment as you jolt. whatever trance you were in pauses for a moment—blinking as you lock eyes with him. you’re . . . soft? is that the way to describe it? when you’re like this.
a little stupid, even, but that’s okay. izuku’s there to do the thinking for you.
“aw; don’t stop moving for me, honey. you can keep going,” your husband coos, hands encouraging your hips to move—and you listen. hands on his chest, the pretty, gentle gold ring with his name carved into it catching the light from the lamp as you start riding him again.
he’s big. izuku’s always been big, especially these past couple years ever since the two of you graduated. it’s a little ridiculous. the thought slips from your mind though as you pick up the pace, moaning softly with each bounce. stupidly, you would argue that you’re your husband’s biggest fan, and izuku would agree.
the sounds and scent in the room are both outright filthy. he whimpers every time you grind down on him—and you hiccup when he spells out his name on your twitchy nub. you’re fucking each other stupid. as per usual.
“i-izu,” you manage to squeak out that dumb nickname you’ve been using for him, the one that took him forever to convince you to use. “‘m gonna cum. y-you’re gonna-”
“shh, shh, i know. lemme take over.”
he’s so gentle with you, despite the way he makes sure you can’t walk without his help after he fucks you. you know what he means when he offers to take over—and you never say no.
you’re reluctant to pull off of him, but izuku just smushes your cheeks and makes you flip over. takes his time looking at your poor, pliant pussy; sloppy and wet. he always ignores the way you whine at him, tellin’ him not to look as he feels himself go a little dumb just at the sight of you.
“i’m gonna take care of you, mkay? just let me handle it, pretty boy.” he murmurs, and pushes your hips flat against the soft, green colored silk sheets on the bed. they’re gonna need a wash after this.
“let izu handle it.” the words are mindless when you’re like this, back arched as you drool into the soft pillow. he’s been putting in this position a lot as of late—but it isn’t like you’re complaining.
you feel when the tip pops in, ‘cause it’s hard not to, honestly. it has your eyes rolling back when he pushes in deeper—making space for himself while you’re willing. soft and warm just for him.
always just for him.
“mmh, fuck. relax a little, bunny,” izuku laughs, but it’s breathless and breaks off into a moan. “we’ll cum together, yeah?”
“yeah . . .” you nod, gasping when he finally bottoms out. the feeling leaves you dizzy and breathless, eyes rolling back as izuku slowly picks up where you left off—speeding up to your pace in just a few thrusts.
there’s a filthy noise every time he pulls and pushes. and you know better, gosh, you know better, but your teeth sink into the pillow and you practically bite down every noise by force of habit. you don’t exactly enjoy letting your neighbors know you’re getting the soul fucked out of you at the moment.
izuku doesn’t seem to really care, though.
“ah-ah,” your husband leans down, and you can feel the weight of his body and his dick, and it makes your heart stutter. “you know not to do that. thought i taught you better than that.”
“i-i don’t wanna-”
“it’s okay, sweet thing.” oh. “i know how worried you can get. that’s why i gotta do the thinking for you,” izuku slowly lifts your head up, tapping your cheek for a moment before wrapping his bicep around you.
oh.
you subconsciously squeeze around him—already wound up tight with nerves and stars bursting behind your eyelids as you take a deep breath. force of habit by now.
“there we go. lemme handle you.”
he doesn’t give you another second to think before he pulls out, leaving just the tip, before sinking right back in. this time, you squeal, unable to hold it back from the mere feeling of him settling right back in where he belongs.
and he fucks you just like that—making sure you let out every hiccup, squeak and moan, grinding into you every once in a while just to let you feel him.
when he adjusts his angle, tilting his hips up justttt a little, you’re a goner.
“ohmygoshhhh- there! there- izu!”
this time, izuku doesn’t bother giving you much of a response besides another groan—swallowing down his own drool at the feeling of you getting ready to cum this time. it’s like both of you can sense it, used to each other’s bodies to the point you can just tell.
“uh-huh, i know, pretty boy. i know.” izuku’s arm tightens around your throat, and you gurgle in a pathetic attempt to respond, feeling that band in your tummy stretch and stretch.
it’s not like you can help it. he’s the reason you’re like this, after all. years of putting you above himself has you like this.
you tighten up real nice around him, nearly pushing his cock out in the process, feeling your own wetness slide down your thighs and onto the sheets. it’s filthy. it leaves you raw, messy and drooling onto your husband’s arm.
it never fails to make him smile.
“o-oh,” izuku’s hips stutter for a moment, grinding nice and deep into your poor cervix. “ah, shit. that felt good, huh sweetheart?”
he sounds breathless—voice teetering into a whimper as he presses a kiss to your temple, letting you nod. you don’t have to talk for him to know how happy he makes you.
just the thought has his thrusts getting sloppier. more uncoordinated than before. it doesn’t have any less effect on either of you, really, because it still leaves you stuck between running away from it, or pressing back into it.
it doesn’t take much for izuku to press his middle and index fingers to your clit—rubbing messy circles onto it as your breath hitches, and his moans start cracking.
“mmh, fuck. fuck. you gonna cum again? make yourself feel good?”
“mhm- mhm! please, pleaseee—”
izuku always, always makes sure to give you a kiss whenever he cums inside of you. swallows down whatever pathetic noise you make when you milk him for all he’s worth, both of your hips twitching helplessly against each other.
by the time he lets you out of that headlock, you’re boneless and melting into the bed, thighs trembling as he pulls out with a gross, wet noise while rubbing your hips in a soothing manner. almost like he’s sorry for fucking you after such a long day.
You don’t tell anyone about the secret fan account. Not your friends, not your classmates, and definitely not your fucking family. It exists in the dark— a burner Twitter built purely for one purpose: Screaming about how horny you are for heroes you find attractive and feed off others delusions. The username came to you while scrolling at 12 a.m.: @/MightlessMuse
Vaguely poetic, slightly horny, and anonymous enough to never be traced back to you. Tonight’s tweet sits drafted in your notes, thumb hovering over “post.” You sit there eating your favorite late night snack and listening to “Bathroom bitch” by HOLYCHILD. Reading it again and again, debating whether it’s too much… then remember the entire point of this account is not overthinking. So you hit send and gave your bottom lip a bite—something you did out of nervousness or being turned on.
—
@/MightlessMuse
“my toxic trait is thinking i could handle a green pro hero with freckles bc i swear he’d fold me and fuck me on a table senselessly if he ever looked at me for longer than 3 seconds like FUCK i’m tryna get a load of him” #proherocrush #number4
—
Notifications start instantly.
❤️2.5k 🔁 111 💬 287
Top replies:
• @/blastyourbackout: girl you’d need physical therapy don’t play😵💫
• @/herodekuenthusiast: and honestly?? i support this delusion
• @/kacchansbitch: be serious bc we all know you’d LAST 1 second and evaporate
—
Pinned bookmark comments flood in. Thirst is mutual. Timeline is chaos. All anonymous.
You grin. This is why you like the account. It’s fun. Safe. A space to be unfiltered without consequences. You toss the phone facedown on your bed. Because now you have to get ready for class.
⸻
College was boring. You weren’t one to go out. The only class that was keeping that gpa high was “Quirk Genetics & Dynamics”. It wasn’t about hero society — it was about the science of evolution. Quirk emergence over generations. Mutation patterns. Carrier traits. Whether quirks were stabilizing, intensifying… or heading toward collapse.
Complex. Fascinating. You loved it. And it had absolutely nothing to do with the professor—in a way.
“Izuku Midoriya — PhD, Quirk Phenomenology.”
You didn’t even realize it was HIM until someone in the back whispered “holy shit—thats Pro Hero Deku” and suddenly half the class was Googling and trying to sneak watch his videos of winning against some of the scariest villains of all time. He used to teach high school first and second years but would occasionally come to college campuses as a ‘special guest’, but after several years of this the faculty realized something: older students were… more engaged when Midoriya lectured. They didn’t drift, didn’t doodle, didn’t scroll. They stared. They listened. They hung onto every word. And the university wanted that.
The way he walked into the lecture hall —quiet, confident, like a man who didn’t need to prove anything. Tie, button-down, hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it all morning. Muscular in a way that absolutely did not match the faculty wardrobe he was forced into. And that voice. Soft, low, lecturing like he was narrating a documentary that could ruin lives. A voice that would definitely talk you through it…but we’re getting off track. You still took the class for the science…That was the story you stuck to.
⸻
You slip into your usual seat —third row, center—before the room fills. Best spot to see and hear him. You’re already pulling out your notebook when the door closes and the air shifts.
Professor Midoriya walks into the lecture hall with a stack of notes tucked under one arm and a calm confidence that settles the room instantly. No wasted movements. No dramatic entrance. Just the quiet authority of someone who knows exactly what he’s talking about.
“Good evening everyone,” he says, adjusting his glasses as the projector hums to life. “I hope you all are having a good day so far”
He pulls out his reading glasses and pushes them up with his knuckle, picks up the red marker, and starts writing on the whiteboard without a word— like the entire universe forms in his head before anyone else has the privilege of hearing it.
His sleeve rides up when he reaches high on the board, revealing strong scarred forearms you absolutely shouldn’t be looking at in an academic setting. Markers tap against his palm as he faces the board.
“In classical models, quirks were assumed to operate at a fixed output…the same strength regardless of environment. But newer data disagrees.” He draws a simple graph. The curve rises.
“Many quirks don’t stay constant. They accelerate when stimulated by external triggers.” Pens scratch across notebooks. Yours doesn’t move. He keeps going, voice smooth and steady.
“Triggers vary. Some people respond to danger. Others respond to admiration or rivalry. And—” His eyes sweep the room, unhurried. “some respond to…specific individuals.” A ripple of laughter moves through the room. You don’t laugh. Midoriya smiles a little but not playful, not flirty, just someone who genuinely loves the material.
“For example,” he continues, leaning against the desk, “one quirk might intensify around people the user fears. Another might intensify around people the user trusts.” A beat. “Or likes.” The word hangs in the air. He doesn’t react. Doesn’t search the room. Doesn’t push. Just keeps lecturing, calm and academic.
“The important thing isn’t why a trigger happens — but that it does. Amplification isn’t random. It’s deeply personal.” He turns back to the board and underlines one sentence:
Quirks react to emotion before logic.
The class mumbles approval— interest, amusement, disbelief. You sit frozen, pen loosely between your fingers, doing everything you can to look normal while your pulse fights for escape. You shift in your seat, force yourself to focus on your notebook instead of the man teaching.
Midway through the lecture, he sets the marker down and claps his hands softly, once—signaling a transition. “I’ve prepared an anonymous survey for today,” Professor Midoriya says, tone casual… but his eyes stay sharp. “It’s optional, but it’ll help support our current research.” Students perk up. Extra credit usually lives behind phrases like that. He taps the tablet on his desk and a QR code appears on the projector.
“It’s just two questions,” he adds. “There are no right or wrong answers. Complete honesty is the point.” Chairs squeak. Phones lift. You scan the code with everyone else.
The survey wasn’t outrageous on paper. No talk of attraction. No “quirk compatibility.” Nothing that would make HR knock on his office door.
Just clinical wording:
1. Have you noticed if your quirk fluctuates when you’re emotionally stimulated?
2. If so, do these fluctuations correlate with specific individuals or environments?
To everyone else, it was academic. To you, sitting three rows from the front with your heart pounding through your ribs— it felt like a spotlight.
You answered honestly, but vaguely:
“Yes I do notice my quirk reacting when my emotions are high / I notice my quirk tends to fluctuate around people or subjects I feel strongly about.”
The moment you pressed submit, you already knew what you were going to tweet later.
⸻
Back in your room, laptop open, textbook closed, you stare at the blinking cursor on @MightlessMuse.
The timeline is thirsty for content. And you have plenty.
You type:
@MightlessMuse: learned today in class that quirks can amplify around certain ppl… which is WILD bc mine sure likes to try and act up whenever l see or hear the #4 hero 🤝 quirk science is crazy lol #Thirstfornerds #Quirkfacts
—
Nothing explicit. Nothing illegal. Just jokes. Perfectly fine. Could be about a classmate. A barista. A celebrity. A hero on TV.
Replies fire instantly:
• @Allmightybih: Fuckkkk no wonder my shit starts acting up when i get flustered😩
• @HeroHungry: amplify??? turn UP or turn ON?? DETAILS NOW
• @BlastYourBackOut: quirk going WEEEOWW around a crush is so real
—
You shut your phone off before you get tempted to overshare or start a poll about it and start to conjure up ideas for your next unhinged tweet.
Meanwhile the man responsible for the chaos is completely unaware. For now.
—
Professor Midoriya is still at his desk grading papers. He’s fast. Organized. Thorough. And smart. So unbelievably smart. He can map quirk patterns across three generations in his head. He can do statistical evolution analysis without notes. He remembers every student’s handwriting after week two.
He finishes grading around 11:40 p.m., stretches his stiff shoulders, and finally allows himself to open his phone like a reward.
Not hero work. Not emails. Just a harmless scroll.
He types his own name into the search bar, looking at his tags— not out of vanity, but habit. Reputation monitoring… or at least that’s what he tells himself. The truth is simpler: he likes knowing people care. He used to be one of them. Hell, at thirteen he ran an All Might fan account so dedicated it had twelve thousand followers and a daily breakdown series. He’ll never judge admiration. He understands it too well.
He’s scrolling casually through the usual when one tweet stops him.
@MightlessMuse:
@MightlessMuse: learned today in class that quirks can amplify around certain ppl… which is WILD bc mine sure likes to try and act up whenever l see or hear the #4 hero 🤝 quirk science is crazy lol #Thirstfornerds #Quirkfacts
—
He blinks once, twice… something sits strange.He shouldn’t click.
He clicks.
The account is anonymous. No name, no face. Just memes, thirsty commentary, and art reposts of heroes— mostly him in his prime and thirst trap edits from his interviews and fights with villains. Some post regarding college life…He scrolls back. A tweet from a few days ago:
“every time he adjusts his tie i lose 3 years off my life expectancy this is not sustainable for my education” #droppingout #helpme #ithinkilovehim
He huffs out a tiny laugh not in an arrogant way, just disbelieving. Because it’s absurd to even think but still… his mind ticks automatically. He can’t help it. He tracks patterns for a living. Coincidental, sure… but uncomfortably precise.
Except— the part that sticks in him isn’t the flirting. It’s the wording…
“learned today in class”
“quirks amplify around certain ppl”
He said exactly that in his lecture this morning. His fingers go still. That’s too specific. Too timed. Too aligned. He leans back in his chair, pinches the bridge of his nose, and forces himself not to overthink.
Yes, he said that in class today. Yes, this tweet references that exact idea. But he has multiple students across multiple sections. And thousands of fans online who watch lecture clips, Q&As, and recorded guest talks.
It could be anyone. It probably is. He shakes his head, shuts off the phone, and drops it on the desk —maybe a little faster than necessary.
He’s seen it before. The naughty fanfics. The thirsty posts. The harmless “haha I ship him with so and so” threads.
All of it made him flush, yes, but it was distant enough— just imagination. Safe. Fiction. Not real. But this account? and that specific tweet? It lines up too perfectly with his lecture today. He eventually refuses to let his brain make that leap. It’s not logical. It’s not professional. And it’s definitely not safe. He takes off his glasses, rubs his eyes, and tells himself firmly…It’s just a coincidence.
But the problem is—once a hypothesis forms, the scientist in him cannot unthink it. Even while he packs his bag, even while he locks his office door, one uninvited question stays lodged in the back of his mind like a splinter…What if someone in one of my classes is tweeting about me?
He doesn’t want to believe it. He especially doesn’t want to admit that the idea sends a quiet chill down his spine —But he shuts it down immediately, jaw tightening. Don’t be ridiculous. There are thousands of students and even more fans. Coincidence. It’s just coincidence. He doesn’t look again. He doesn’t check the account. He doesn’t let himself think about it. But the tweet stays burned behind his eyes.
—
It’s been a week since you’ve tweeted anything. It feels like all your professors collectively agreed to give you an assignment to write a 5-10 page long essay due at the end of the week.
You walk in to the classroom like it’s any other day — laptop, coffee, messy notes. You sit in your usual spot, totally normal. But he’s… different. Not obvious. Not inappropriate. Just—sharper. His posture straighter. His eyes lingering a touch too long when he scans the room. Like he’s searching for something he shouldn’t be searching for.
He teaches perfectly. He always does. He’s brilliant. But there’s something in the way he pushes his hair back, something in the way he adjusts his tie while talking, something that makes heat pulse under your skin. And for the first time in weeks, he calls on you during discussion.
“Y/L/N? Thoughts on the amplification variable?”
His voice is steady, neutral —but his eyes are not. You hesitate but you answer, stumbling only a few times, and the tiny impressed twitch in the corner of his mouth nearly short-circuits you. You use to struggle in his class before realizing you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of him— so you started studying like your life depended on it.
Class ends. Everyone starts packing up. And then: “Y/L/N… could you meet me in my office? I need to go over something with you regarding your research paper.” Totally neutral. Totally professional. He had called on a few students the prior class day so no one batted an eye when he called on you.
—
After class it’s just the two of you in his office— Your pulse shouldn’t be this loud. You approach his desk as he sits down behind it. He pulls up a file on his laptop —your paper. The one on quirk gene lineage and inherited limitation thresholds.
He clears his throat, but his voice is soft — lower than usual. “Your analysis was… impressive. One of the strongest I’ve read this semester. I’m seeing real progress in you from the start of the semester till now.”
You stare at your paper on his desk, biting your bottom lip before looking back up at him. He’s not just smiling. It’s something worse. Pride. Approval. Praise. Focus. You. He continues: “I just wanted you to know I noticed. That’s all.”
Your heart is in your throat. You thank him, try to sound normal, try not to melt under the attention. You leave the room on shaking legs.
⸻
You barely make it back to your place before your hands are shaking. You lock the door behind you and lean against it, laptop still in your bag, your chest hammering like you just ran a mile.
It was so small. Just… a paper review. “Your analysis was impressive. One of the strongest I’ve read this semester.” And yet. Your thighs tighten, heat blooming between them. Your chest pounds, pulse in your ears. You pace a little. Hands fidget. You feel like you’re literally vibrating.
You throw your bag onto your bed, flop into your chair, and open your laptop like a lifeline. Twitter. Your safe place. Your chaos outlet.
Fingers fly:
@/MightlessMuse:
Deku would SOOOOO praise you while he fucked you and make you BEGGGGG don’t asked me how I know because i just KNOW IT 😭😭 biting my lip so hard thinking about it #imfreakingthefuckout #ineedhimasap #cumslut
—
Your heart hammers as you hit “tweet.” You throw on a hoodie on and clutch it—breath shaky, thighs still tingling. Your chest rises and falls like a storm. You know you’ll never think about class the same way again. And somewhere deep down, part of you can’t wait to tweet more— to immortalize that little moment.
⸻
Midoriya slouched in his office chair, head heavy, eyes burning from staring at the same lesson plan for the last hour.
Quirk genetics. Amplification theory. Environmental triggers. Every line meticulously typed, but nothing is sticking. He’s tired. Burnt out. Hero work yesterday morning. More hero work tomorrow. Crime has been up recently. Paperwork, grading, emails, repeat. Some days it feels like he’s running a marathon in a suit he didn’t even pick out for comfort. He rubs at his eyes. Sighs. Pushes the laptop away. He grabbed his phone did his ritual weekly search of his name.
what pops up is the new— but usual tweets. fan accounts. edits. interviews. false media. drawings. Scrolling, scrolling, barely paying attention, when a familiar name flickers into view:
@MightlessMuse · 5:43 PM
Deku would SOOOOO praise you while he fucked you and make you BEGGGGG don’t asked me how I know because i just KNOW IT 😭😭 biting my lip so hard thinking about it #imfreakingthefuckout #ineedhimasap #cumslut
❤️579 🔁 10 💬 29
—
He freezes.
Not because it’s dirty, he’s seen thousands of fan tweets before. Not because it’s explicit— it’s just words. Again…It’s the timing and It’s the phrasing.
It’s that he literally praised a student for her paper three hours ago. His chest tightens. His stomach knots. His fingers hover over the phone, trembling almost imperceptibly. Rationally, he tells himself: It’s anonymous. It could be anyone. Coincidence.
But a deeper, unreasoning part of him can’t ignore it. Heat blooms low in his torso. His mind flashes to that paper, her handwriting, the subtle pride in her posture when he complimented her work. He didn’t think twice about it —it was just honest. She deserved praise— she’s been doing so much better in class and so much it was hard not to notice. Professional, simple. Yet now, seeing this… tweet… it lands differently. He leans back, running a hand through his hair. His focus on the lesson plan is gone, replaced with a slow, feral curiosity.
He needed proof it was HER.
The next day, in the few classes he taught, he tried something subtle— calling on a few girls and guys who he thought might fit the profile, the ones who had flirted with him before in a way that lingered under the surface. Each time he asked a question, he didn’t watch for the answer… he watched for the reaction.
One girl giggled. Nope.
One guy went tomato-red. Nope— embarrassed wasn’t the right shade.
One batted her eyelashes. Definitely not.
Then he called you. A question on the board— one of the harder ones. Something he knew was your weak spot according to your test section scores. The room went quiet. You stared down. He waited. And in that silence… your breathing went shaky.
“Y/L/N,” he said, voice smooth, unreadable. “Care to answer?” He should’ve just moved on. That would’ve been fair. But this wasn’t fairness. This was confirmation. His next words were a test. Of both theory and temptation.
Your eyes lifted, unsure. “I… I don’t know.” You licked your lips and bit down on your bottom one, soft but unmistakable— and his eyes dropped the second you did it.
Bingo.
“See me after class.”
The class exhaled all at once, some students smirking, assuming you were in trouble. You just froze— wide-eyed. He didn’t look angry. He didn’t look disappointed. He just looked… curious.
When the bell rang, everyone filed out. Except you. You stood in front of his desk, trying not to fidget. He pretended to grade papers, giving you time to stew, to wonder, to worry. Then he looked up. “Relax,” he said softly. “You’re not in trouble. I wanted to see if you wanted extra credit. You clearly understand the subject, but freeze whenever you’re called on. That’s something we can fix.”
You swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He walked around the desk, standing beside you as he pointed at the problem. Close —but not touching. “Try again. Don’t overthink. I know that you know this”
You answered — slowly, hesitantly — he gave little hints that you were close but you got it right. And he knew he shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. But the word left him anyway, low and warm and too intimate to be innocent: “Clever girl.”
Your breath shattered. Eyes huge. That exact reaction from class — the one he’d been hunting for. He leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching you piece everything together — the tweet, the coincidence, his attention.
And he smiled. Not cocky. Not arrogant. Knowing. “See?” he murmured. “You’re smart. You just needed… the right kind of encouragement.”
Your knees almost buckled. He saw it. He felt it. He confirmed every suspicion. And for the first time, he wasn’t burned out. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t overworked. He was wide awake—because now the game had officially begun.
And god—now that he knew it was you? He couldn’t believe he hadn’t put it together sooner. You were always the one who slipped into class quietly, notebook clutched to your chest, hair a little messy from rushing, lips bitten when you concentrated. A bright, pretty thing without trying to be. He’d thought so from the first week —just a passing thought, nothing more, a private little note in the back of his tired mind: She’s cute.
He never acted on it. Never gave it oxygen. He was exhausted, burnt out, juggling hero work and teaching, too busy to care about attraction. But now? Now that he was pretty sure the girl who shook under his praise was the same one tweeting about getting folded and fucked? Yeah. It suddenly mattered.
He pushed off the desk slowly, closing the space just enough that you felt his presence without him touching you.
“You really do underestimate yourself,” he said softly. “You’re… a lot more capable than you think.”
You swallowed. Hard. He let his eyes linger — not inappropriate, but not academic, either. Like he was studying you for reasons that had nothing to do with the syllabus.
“And honestly?” he added, voice dropping the tiniest bit, “I knew from the beginning you’d stand out.”
You blinked up at him, confused. “Why?”
His answer came like it cost him nothing — but it wrecked you. “You’re sharp. And you’re… pretty hard to overlook.” Your whole body went hot. He didn’t even seem to realize he’d dropped the compliment. Didn’t rush to take it back. He just let it hang there, casual — like calling you pretty was as unimportant as taking attendance. He paused and clicks his tongue before continuing “We will be writing a short 3 page essay on the topic next week—I look forward to reading your work.” But the curve of his mouth— the one he didn’t even try to hide, said he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Then he stepped aside, letting you go, dismissing you like nothing unusual had happened. And when you walked out, heart sprinting in your chest, phone half-pulled from your pocket already. He couldn’t wait to see what you’d tweet next.
—
You don’t even remember walking out of the building. Your legs move, your brain doesn’t. All you can hear is him— “clever girl. see? you’re smart.” Like it’s still echoing inside your head, bouncing off the walls of your skull. You get back to your apartment and drop your bag somewhere on the floor. You sit on the edge of your bed like you’re in some kind of trance, your heart still beating way too fast for a conversation that was supposedly “about extra credit.”
You type before you can stop yourself:
@/MightlessMuse
god gives his strongest soldiers the most DANGEROUS temptations. #greenisAproblem #justfuckmealready
❤️358 🔁10 💬23
• @/blastyourbackout: bestie logged onto twitter when she SHOULD be calling a therapist (i’m so proud)
• @/academiadegeneracy: this is the kind of vague tweet you post when ur future is about to RUIN YOU and you’re EXCITED
• @/lettheheroesruinme: i KNOW this is about that green pro hero. i feel it in my BONES. don’t ask how. WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?!
—
You slammed your laptop shut like it had personally offended you, tossed your phone face-down on your bed, and marched straight to the shower. Because what else were you supposed to do? The hot water didn’t help. At first you hoped it would calm your racing brain, but instead it just made it worse— replaying everything.
His voice. The praise. The way he’d looked at you just before you walked out —like he knew something he shouldn’t. Your legs pressed together on instinct and you groaned, dragging your hands over your face.
your imagination drifting into him being in the shower with you and his hands wondering up and down your soaked body. “Get it together,” you muttered to yourself as you opened your eyes trying to push the thought away. “He’s your professor. One of Japan’s top hero’s. And you’re— insane… fucking delusional psycho.”
But no amount of logic stopped the fantasy running wild. You dried off, threw on pajama shorts and an old pro hero deku merch shirt, and crawled into bed —definitely not planning on checking the tweet again. You didn’t even touch your phone. You needed distance. You needed to chill. Eventually, exhaustion knocked you out.
⸻
Across the city— same night.
Izuku sat on the floor of his house, legs stretched out. He’d just finished tightening a loose plate on his suit —a small repair from patrol— when he let himself relax for the first time in days.
Head tilted back against the couch. Hair damp from his own shower. Shoulders finally loose. He check the account. The urge was there—the twitch of curiosity that refused to die. Just one refresh. Just to see if the account had posted anything new. His thumb moved before the thought even finished forming.
Refresh.
A new tweet appeared immediately:
@/MightlessMuse
“god gives his strongest soldiers the most DANGEROUS temptations. #greenisAproblem #justfuckmealready”
—
He stared at it. He didn’t need caffeine— that sentence lit him up in a way nothing should have. The timing. The tone. The dramatic, borderline feral energy of it.
He didn’t need a quirk to connect dots. He knew who wrote it. Everything was perfectly connected He exhaled once —sharp, amused, and darkly pleased.
So the praise rattled her. So she really did fantasize about him. So she couldn’t stop thinking about it either. He let the satisfaction bloom quietly in his chest as he opened her messages —the fact that the hero world knew him as Deku and that his students still had to call him Professor Midoriya suddenly felt like a weapon in his hands. And he used it.
He typed slowly, deliberately—not leaving room for interpretation…
“Meet me in my office after class Wednesday, Y/L/N”
—
No heart. No smile. No context.
He hit send. Locked his phone. His pant were tight and strained at the thought of her reading it and getting flustered. He leaned back with a silent, dangerous smile —the kind no news interview ever caught.
⸻
Your phone buzzed on your nightstand.
You didn’t notice at first —half-asleep and warm under your blankets. Then it buzzed again. And again. You reached for it lazily, assuming it was a group chat—going to turn on dnd and the moment your screen lit up you nearly threw the entire phone across the room. The top notification:
Message from: Deku✔️
Japan’s number 4 hero. The man who teaches your class. The man you… tweet things about you should not be tweeting. And the preview text?
“Meet me in my office after class Wednesday, Y/L/N.”
You sat bolt upright. “OH MY FUCKING GOD. HOLY FUCKIN FUCK. FUCK ME. FUCK—”
Your heart launched into orbit. He messaged you. On his verified hero account. He said your last name. He wants to meet. Wednesday. After class. Your brain turned into static. Did he know? You were so unbelievably FUCKED. You stared at the message so long your eyes burned, but you still couldn’t form a single reply—not even an emoji.
You dropped the phone onto your chest and covered your face with both hands. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god he knows—” And for a second, you weren’t sure if you were thrilled…or doomed.
⸻
You barely sleep Tuesday night. Your phone still sits on your nightstand, still showing his DM — the one from his verified account. The one with a blue check, 3.2 million followers, the one that only follows like 58 people.
“Meet me in my office after class Wednesday. y/l/n.”
You had reread the message so many times that you started doubting you ever read it at all. Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you dreamed it. By Wednesday morning, the uncertainty had settled like a pit in your stomach.
You forced yourself to eat —anything, just enough to keep from shaking. Then you checked the weather app. Summer in Japan was already creeping in, heavy and humid, so you dressed for it: the cute skirt you ordered online, the tank top you just thrifted that youve been excited to wear…in a way you were dressing for him but you of course didn’t want to say it outloud.
Except today, it didn’t feel exciting. It felt strategic. Walking into class, your stomach was lodged in your throat. Every part of you was braced for… something. A look. A change in tone. A shift in the air.
But he’s normal. He’s already at the podium adjusting the projector settings, sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, tie perfectly straight. Focused. Professional. Calm. Like every other morning.
Like nothing happened. Like you dreamed the whole thing.
“Good Evening, everyone,” he says. Voice steady, low, controlled. Not even a flicker of recognition when his eyes skim across the room and land on you for half a second before moving on. Your heart drops so hard it rattles your ribs. The lecture is clean, clinical. He talks about quirk compatibility statistics, environmental gene activation, the social consequences of mutation theory. He calls on a few students. You are not one of them. Every time his eyes move— you hope. And every time… nothing. By the time the clock hits the last five minutes, you decide you made it all up —the DM was fake, a troll account, a fan account pretending to be him. You must’ve been exhausted. You must’ve imagined it. You’re taking all the right medications right?
Class ends. backpacks zip, the room erupts with conversation and fades slowly as people leave. You shove your notebook into your bag without even closing it properly, trying to get out before your brain embarrasses you any more. You reach the door.
“Y/L/N” His voice stops you like a lasso around the waist. Slowly —too slowly—you turn. Mr.Midoriya is still by the podium, packing up his tablet. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t frown. His face is unreadable.
“If you have a moment can you please come with me,” he says softly.
You nod your head ‘yes’ and follow him out of the classroom and down the hallway. Every step echoes. Every student you pass might as well be looking straight through you. His hand opens the office door. He steps in first. You step in second. He shuts it behind you.
The quiet is suffocating.
You sit down in the chair where the desk is between you and him —at first. He sets his tablet down. He removes his glasses. Folds them neatly. Then finally, finally, he looks at you fully. And that’s when you know. You didn’t hallucinate a damn thing. He leans against his desk, crossing his arms —posture relaxed, expression composed, but his eyes? His eyes are focused like he’s got you pinned to a chalkboard.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” he says. “Something important.” Your pulse is feral. He tilts his head slightly, studying you —not academically, not professionally… like he’s trying to decide something.
“You did you get my message, right?” he asks. Not ‘Did I send one?’ Not ‘Was it confusing?’ Did you get it.
Your mouth goes dry. “Y… yes.” Your knees almost give out.
“Okay so you know why I asked you here.” His voice dips —playful, but dangerously controlled. You swallow. “Yes but no.” Your throat tightens. “Am I in trouble? Or—”
He laughs. Soft. Low. Unhelpful. “Trouble?” he repeats, like the word tastes sweet. “Is that what you think this is?” He pushes off the desk, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m not here to scold you,” he says. “I just want to understand.” His eyes drag over your face, your mouth, your neck. Your breath catches. He tilts his head a little more, waiting, and when you stay quiet he hums —amused, not disappointed. “uh tell me,” he says, voice dropping. “When you posted those things…the ones you thought I’d do.” His tongue brushes his canine, barely noticeable but hungry. Your knees weaken.
“…were you wishing I’d do them to you or was it like a general kink you thought I might have and wanted to share it with other fans of mine?”
Your lungs forget how to work. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out— not denial, not confession, just panic and heat. You force a word—any word. “I didn’t think you’d see—or know it was me and I-i am so incredibly sorry and embarrassed…It was just all cause I have a stupid crush I-” You were rambling, and it turned him on seeing you like this truly.
His eyebrows lift. He moves. Not fast— but with purpose, intent, hunger. The desk is no longer a barrier. He gets up and steps around it, closing the distance until his body heat hits you head-on. You scoot back up in your chair without thinking —but there’s nowhere to go. He’s right in front of you now. back side leaning against his desk. hands giving him leverage on the desk beside his hip, felt like he was caging you in without even touching you.
“you didn’t answer my question.” Your heart is chaos in your chest. He dips his head down closer but not touching, just close enough that your lips part on instinct. He watches it happen.
“were you wishing I’d do them to you?” Your whole body jolts in panic, need, embarrassment, all at once. You look away, but he catches your chin between two fingers —gentle, but undeniable guiding your eyes back to his.
“Do you want me to bend you over this table?” Your knees nearly buckle. “Do you want me to hold you there and fuck you until you forget your own name?” You gasp —a sound that betrays everything. He pulls back just enough to see your face.
“Say it,” he orders, quiet but lethal. “Say what you imagined.” He was giving you take same tone of encouragement like he did before.
Your voice tries to stay steady— it really, really does. “I…I imagined…” Your throat closes. You swallow hard, eyes locked on his because he isn’t letting you look anywhere else. “…your hands on me,” you force out, barely above a whisper. “Your voice... fucking me like you need me against this very desk” Something breaks in him. Not control — no, he still has that — but restraint. The space between you evaporates. “Stand up” it’s like he almost chokes it out. You look up “what?”, he breathes in harshly like he’s trying. “I said stand up please” You stand up your face is inches away from his.
His hand hesitantly slides to the small of your back and drags you the last inches toward him like you weigh nothing. Your chest hits his, breath tangles, and suddenly you’re right where your fantasies always put you. Both his hands are on you now — one at your hip, the other at the back of your neck, thumb stroking slow along your throat like he’s memorizing the pulse hammering there. Your knees almost buckle. His hand on your hip tightens to hold you up.
"You know..good girls don't struggle in my class," he whispered, voice rough. "But maybe... if you begged right, I'd still call you that when you're spread across my desk."
He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you—dark, intense. His fingers trail down, over the curve of your ass—just enough pressure to make your head fall back. You whimper—actually whimper—and that’s when he really loses patience. He spins you gently but firmly, pressing you forward until your hips hit the desk. His body follows, crowding you from behind, caging you in with heat and mass and zero escape.
“Put your hands on the desk,” he says. You obey before your brain catches up—palms flat against the cool surface, breath ragged. He leans over you, mouth grazing your ear.
“There you go,” he purrs. “Already listening” His hand travels up your spine, slow and burning.
Your eyes flutter shut. His hand slides back down— lower —lower— He takes a fistful of your skirt and drags it up in one smooth, devastating motion. Your underwear showing with a wet line seeping through.
“I want to hear you ask for it.” Your body jolts. Your voice fails. He waits—smiling against your neck.“Come on,” he whispers. “You wanted this. You wrote it. posted it. Now ask. for. it.” Your pulse is out of control, your brain gone, every nerve on fire. “Professor Midoriya… please… fuck me against your desk, I want it so badlyyy” you gasped, words tumbling out in a mix of embarrassment and need, your body betraying you with every quiver.
He didn’t hesitate. His hands yanked your panties aside, leaving you bare and wet. Dropping to his knees, he engulfed your clit with his mouth, flicking his tongue in maddening patterns, sucking and teasing until your back arched and your nails scraped the desk.
“Oh… fuuuuck yes— right there!” you moaned, head falling forward on the table, every nerve alive, every inch of you craving more. His tongue didn’t stop, diving in and out of your slick, desperate heat, making you shiver and whimper. You felt like you were melting when he finally stood, The sound of his belt and zipper drew a gasp from your lips. His cock already hard and heavy, slapping against your ass. He pressed himself against you, sliding between your folds, the friction sending shocks straight to your core.
“Tell me,” he growled, hands gripping your hips, “tell me this is better than any of you little fantasy post.” You could barely form the words, trembling, burning, lost to sensation. “Yes… yes, it’s… so much better…”
He slams his fat cock into you forcing a choked moan out before he slaps a hand over your mouth. “Shhhhh—You better be quiet or else someone will hear us” He trust into you as he speaks “and what will people think of me fucking my student hmm?” he continues to trust and you’re trying so hard to listen. “A lot of people want me just as bad as you do and they’ll see me giving you that student pet treatment and we don’t want that do we?” he slowly brings his hand off your mouth and glides it down to you hip giving it a tight squeeze. “no sir” you lean you head back hitting his shoulder with a quiet moan.
He pulls out and flips you around facing him— your back now against his desk. He lines himself up to your hole and slams into you once more. He’s holding your legs apart spreading them wider and fucking you deeper. You could feel him hitting that certain spot that made you want to squirt— it made your toes curl and your hands reaching out to grab anything that kept you grounded. Your head rolled back against the desk and your back arched upwards. You could feel yourself clenching around him as you saw stars. Midoriya continued to fuck you, his thrust were getting sloppier the longer he looked at you. “Fuuuck gonna cum all in this tight pussy—aauh”
“yes— please please please” your voice raspy and barley above a whisper— begging him. This was your dirtiest fantasy come to life and the cherry on top was him fucking you so deep he’d spill his hot seed in you. Knowing you would walk around on campus like nothing happens all while not only your professor but your pro-hero crushes cum is dripping in your panties. Maybe being delusional does get you somewhere in life.
He leans down over you on the desk, the chaos of the moment fading into something quieter. His hands rest lightly on your sides as his forehead hovers near yours. And then his lips find yours, soft, gentle, a stark contrast to everything that came before.
“You’re—so— pretty” he says in between kisses. He lets out a low, ragged breath, chest pressing lightly against yours, hands gripping your sides as if grounding himself. His lips hover near your ear now, voice rough and strained.
He pumps into you a few more times before letting out a low groan and the feeling of warm liquid dripped out your used hole. Midoryia breathed heavily hovering over you before leaning up and pulling out of you. “Look at that” he says as he grabs his cock and runs the swollen tip along your throbbing clit— spreading his cum all over you before sticking himself back inside making you jolt from how sensitive you are. “Don’t want it to go to waste do we?“ he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you.
Your hips jolt towards him wanting more. He laughs lowly at your action. “Wow…you really are a cum slut” you were so fucked dumb you couldn’t think to answer.
“Answer me.” The sharp smack to your hip pulls you out of the fog, breath hitching as reality rushes back in.
“Shit— I am,” you say quickly, words tumbling over each other. His scarred hand comes up to your face, fingers warm against your flushed skin. The touch is almost gentle, almost tender—enough to make your stomach twist. His thumb brushes your cheek like he’s grounding you, like he’s reminding you exactly where you are.
“Get up,” he murmurs. Then, quieter, controlled “Fix yourself before you walk out of my office.” You sit up slowly, nodding because it feels easier than thinking. Your legs feel weak beneath you. You watch him move away, circling back behind his desk like this is all routine. You hear the soft, unmistakable sounds of him straightening himself—zipper, buckle, fabric settling.
Already composed. Already done with you. You smooth down your clothes with shaking hands, tugging fabric into place, pressing your palms against the desk for balance. Your hair is a mess; you try to fix it blindly, fingers trembling. You feel lightheaded. Overheated. Like your body hasn’t caught up to the fact that it’s over. Wrong. So wrong. And somehow, still intoxicatingly right.
He straightens the papers on his desk with careful precision, aligning the edges before sitting down. When you grab your bag, he finally looks up at you—and the shift is jarring. His expression is neutral now. Professional. The man who lectures. The man who grades. The man who risk his lives for others.
“Before you go,” he says evenly, like this is just another reminder at the end of office hours, “I’d like to remind you that the research paper is due in a few days.” You stare at him, trying to reconcile the distance in his voice with how close he was moments ago. How little space there’d been between you.
“Yes, sir,” you manage. “I’ll start it tonight.” There’s a pause. Thick. Deliberate. You sling your bag over your shoulder and reach for the door handle when his voice stops you. “Uh— after you turn it in,” he adds, casual but measured, “I think it’s best you come see me during office hours.”
His mouth tilts into something that might be a smile.
“And after we discuss your paper,” he adds, tone deceptively casual, “I think it’s best I give you a few… pointers on how to make it better.” He pauses, eyes dragging over you slowly—deliberately—before continuing. “Maybe even a few bonus points,” he says, voice low. “That is—if you’re interested.”
The implication hangs heavy between you.
You smile despite yourself, biting your lip like you already know the answer you’re supposed to give. “Yes, sir,” you say softly. “I’d like that a lot. Thank you.”
His mouth curves—not warm, not kind. Satisfied. “Good,” he says, already reaching for the next paper on his desk.
“Then we’ll discuss it properly.” Like this is just another academic arrangement. Like he hasn’t already decided exactly how this will go. The implication settles heavy in your chest.
There’s a pause. Measured. Intentional. You reach for the door when he speaks again. “Oh—one more thing.” You stop. His tone stays casual. “Next time you want to post something,” he says, eyes flicking up to you, sharp and knowing, “don’t make it so obvious you’re a college student but I also wouldn’t mind seeing what else you’d want me to do to you.”
Your stomach drops. “Yes, sir,” you say again, quieter this time. You walk out of his office on unsteady legs, posture straight, expression careful—every inch the good student. Down the hallway, back into the world, carrying the heat of what just happened and the cold reality of what it means.
You go home, sit at your desk, open your laptop. And you write like everything depends on it— because somehow, it feels like it does.
ꉂ ᵎᵎ cw/tw: 18+, toxic dynamics (not dot sanctioned healthy communication tactics), established relationship (izuku x reader), softdom!brat tamer!izuku, dom!brat tamer!katsuki, sub!fem!afab!reader (a little crybabyish), creampies, overstimulation, a little marathon sex, non-con (there is a continuous safe word in reader and izuku’s relationship, but reader is a brat & pretends to be reluctant), threesome, pinv, FACE FUCKING!!!!! pussy EATING. both men are mean :( poor you :( dot hate for katsuki shows up, gets sweet at the end, usage of good girl and some degradation, canon divergent
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: everyone thank 🍮 anon for spoon feeding me this fic. i lowkey blacked out writing this. in my mind for katsuki and izuku to have been best friends since childhood in this fic, i imagined izuku having been born with a quirk. they’re so Boyish (notice the effect of having a male best friend vs a girl best friend…) if i forgot any cw/tw tell me
ꉂ ᵎᵎ synopsis: after a fight with your boyfriend, izuku, he asks his best friend, katsuki, to come over the next day to help act as a “mediator” of sorts
mentally ill girl with daddy issues. out of all the girls in the world, midoriya izuku just had to fall in love with the mentally ill girl with daddy issues. he had only himself to blame, he thought to himself, as he tossed his shattered PS5 into the dumpster— the one you had destroyed in a fit of rage.
after becoming a pro-hero, money was the least of izuku’s worries— and for you, it never had been one at all. maybe that’s why you thought it didn’t matter if something broke; you could always just replace it. but that wasn’t the problem here. not the real one. no, in all the time since you started dating, never once had izuku imagined hearing you call him the worst boyfriend ever. not only that, but according to you, he was also mean, never there for you, and the only good thing about him was his dick.
it would be almost funny if it all wasn’t so maddening. throughout your relationship, izuku had been nothing but kind and patient, all while juggling the impossibly high demands of being the new #1 hero. there were millions of fans out there who would kill to be in your position — even a few top-class heroes who had practically begged him for political marriages, desperate to produce the next generation's strongest hero — but he chose you, a quirkless, spoiled brat who seemed determined to test the limits of his patience.
in a way, it wasn’t unusual— your arguments often followed the same pattern. you’d lash out, he’d stay calm— patient, listening, always trying to understand, and your fights would burn out just as quick as they came, the tension melting away in some much needed rough sex. but this time was different. this time, it had gone too far.
as izuku trekked up the stairs back into your shared apartment, he could feel exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. he entered the bedroom quietly, the dim lights of the city revealing you clutching your pillow as you slept, its fabric stained dark with tears. he let out a quiet sigh at the sight, not out of pity, but out of something more complex. frustration. weariness. love. you clearly regretted what you said and did, but when it came down to it, you didn’t know how to apologize properly— something he blamed on your father, who had always thrown money at you instead of teaching you discipline.
after a few minutes of deliberation, he picked up his phone from the nightstand and sent a series of messages to his best friend, asking for a favor. the reply came only minutes later. once their exchange was finished, he set the device aside and slipped beneath the covers beside you. as his arms wrapped around your stiff form, you gradually softened against him— your breathing falling in rhythm with his. with one last sigh, he joined you in your slumber, wishing you were this good for him all the time.
the next morning, izuku didn’t talk much with you. you didn’t either, guilt sitting heavy in your chest making it hard to even look his way. it didn’t help that the only conclusion you’d reached from the fight last night was that you were going to “talk” about it later.
it was right around early afternoon when the doorbell rang. you were in the kitchen, finishing up washing some dishes, while izuku lounged on the couch in the living room, doomscrolling on his phone. “i’ll get it,” he called out, rising to his feet, his tone carrying a note of expectation— as if he was waiting for something or someone.
as he opened the door, a gruff “yo,” greeted him. you peeked around the corner at the sound, frowning as your eyes landed on bakugo katsuki, ducking under the doorframe as he stepped inside. you weren’t exactly a fan of the pro-hero, even if he was your boyfriend's best friend. he was crude and blunt, and you always felt like when he was around and izuku wasn't looking, he would ogle you.
“are you guys going somewhere?” you ask, wiping your wet hands on the fabric of your sweatpants as you approached the two men, confused on why katsuki was here.
“no, baby,” izuku said, turning his head down to look at you, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. “katsuki is here to help me with something.”
“with what?”
“making you less of a bitch,” katsuki says casually, like it was funny.
“excuse me?” you frown, caught off guard and offended, reactively shooting a look at izuku to see if he was going to allow his friend’s disrespect. “are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
izuku lets out a sigh, not necessarily happy with katsuki’s delivery or phrasing but he already knew the other man was not one to beat around the bush. “why would i do anything?”
“uhm— because you’re my boyfriend?”
“oh, but i thought i was the ‘worse boyfriend ever?”
“you said that?” katsuki asks, snickering.
your gaze bounces between the two men, incredulity and embarrassment washing over you. “is this about last night?" you ask in a hushed voice, trying to maintain some privacy in your relationship. “i thought you said we were going to talk about it...”
“we are,” izuku says evenly, his hand sliding to your hip, holding you in place. “katsuki’s just here to mediate. in a way.”
unease tightens in your chest as you glance between the two men once more. “what does that mean?”
with a lean towards you, katsuki takes it upon himself to spell it out for you, the condescension dripping from his voice. “it means your boyfriend wants me to show you worse.”
at his intimidation, you cling onto izuku, searching your boyfriend's face for an answer. “babe?” you question, fingers gripping the side of his shirt, hoping for some comfort.
instead, izuku only exhales, his body language calm but unreadable. “would you come with me to the bedroom?” he asks softly, not explaining anything to you.
“for what?”
“to talk.”
you start to protest — “not if he’s going to—” — but your words are cut off with a startled gasp as izuku lifts you up effortlessly, and slings you over his shoulder. “—izuku! put me down!”
as you're carried off into the bedroom, struggling to escape izuku's grasp, katsuki follows close behind, mentally taking note of how your ass looked in your sweatpants. when izuku finally sets you down on the bed, he sits beside you, all while katsuki leans against the doorframe, watching everything unfold. instinctively, you try to get up, but izuku’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist to halt your movement. “stay,” he commands.
“izuku, this isn’t funny!” you say with a bark.
“do you see me laughing?” he asks rhetorically, before motioning for katsuki to come inside and take a seat on the bed. at the invitation, katsuki does so, making sure to close the door behind him. as he plops down, inching closer to you, you instinctively crawl into izuku’s lap, pressing your back against his chest.
“she’s scared,” katsuki says with a chuckle, speaking to izuku like you were some sort of animal or pet.
“i’d be scared too,” izuku muses, “have you seen the way you look?”
“baby,” you call out, switching gears as you begin to feel small in a room alone with two men, pleading with your boyfriend to take you seriously. “what’s actually going on? i don’t like this. i'm, i'm sorry for last night— but...”
hearing the tremor in your voice, izuku refocuses his attention back onto you, studying your posture. “we’re just talking, honey,” he says with a sigh, rubbing your shoulders. “no need to be so nervous.”
“i don’t see why your friend has to be here for that then.”
katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, as if there’s some joke you're not in on. izuku just reaches up, fingers brushing gently through your hair, trying to soothe you. “we need to talk about last night, my love— and how we are going to make sure it never happens again. katsuki's here to help with that.”
“okay well— it’s- it’s never going to happen again. are we done?”
izuku does his best to hide his chuckle at your attempt to avoid confrontation with another sigh, this time shaking his head as if disappointed. “if only i could take your word for it, baby. but, lately... i just feel like you’ve been taking me for granted.”
at his tone, guilt tugs at your heart, and your voice drops in volume. “i don’t do that…”
he clicks his tongue softly. “really? because it wasn’t very nice of you to break my stuff last night— or to say those things about me.”
“i-i’m sorry,” you mumble, shame creeping up your neck. “i was just mad. i didn’t mean to...”
“yeah?” he asks, voice thoughtful, and not convinced. “i don’t know. it’s not the first time you’ve said mean things to me, you know. sometimes... it just feels like you don’t really love me...”
“i do love you!”
a pout forms on his lips, his eyes clouded with a look of pity. “then how come i find that you make me sad more times than happy, baby?”
not knowing what to say, your throat tightens, tears threatening to spill from your waterline. “i don’t mean to,” you whisper, finding that you’re repeating yourself. “i want to make you happy, izuku…”
izuku pauses for a long moment at your words, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes as his plan began to fall into place.
“…could you show me?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“show you…?”
“yeah,” he says slowly, leaning back as if weighing the words. “show me that you want to make me happy.”
you blink back tears, confused on what exactly he wanted, wishing he’d just tell you. “you want me to show you? how?”
his lips curve into a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “well,” he murmurs, his breath tickling the nape of your neck, “however you think is best. i just want to see what exactly you’d do to prove it to me.”
as your mind scrambles for an answer, desperate to make things right, it feels like the room starts to spin. “i’d do… whatever you want,” you decide at last.
another soft snicker escapes katsuki, but it’s izuku’s deepening smile that makes your stomach twist.
“really, baby? whatever i want?” he asks, the hope in his voice deliberately deceiving.
you nod before you can give it a second thought.
he tilts his head, eyes studying your face.
“would you kiss katsuki?”
for a second, you think you misheard him. as katsuki's role in all this finally dawns on you, your stomach twists, yet you can't stop your following question from tumbling from your lips, hoping your assumptions were wrong. “is this… some kind of test?”
“nope,” he replies with the shake of his head, the expression smooth and calculated. “you got this idea that i'm mean to you, baby. i just want to show you that i’m not. katsuki here, would be kind enough to help me prove it.” his hand brushes your cheek, faking warmth. “if you really mean that you’d show me just how much you want to make me happy, then, show me.”
you hesitate as dread settles on your shoulders— the feeling cold and heavy. he was actually serious, you thought to yourself. slowly, you crawl towards where katsuki sat on the bed, the expectant smirk never leaving his face. you glance back at your boyfriend, searching his expression for some kind of direction on how to proceed— or maybe as a last-ditch plea for mercy, despite knowing deep down, there wouldn’t be any.
“ask katsuki if he could do you a favor,” is all izuku murmurs.
your hands wring together as the words stumble over each other— humiliation churning in your stomach. “bakugo—” you choke out, only to be interrupted by izuku’s sharp correction.
“katsuki, baby.”
"katsuki," you try again, almost whispering, his first name feeling too casual on your tongue. “could you do me a favor?”
katsuki's gaze lazily takes in your quivering form, throughly amused by izuku's approach with you, thinking it was all too unnecessarily gentle. “what was that?” he asks, encouraging you to repeat yourself.
“can you do me a favor?”
“hell are you so quiet for? speak up.”
your hands twist in the fabric of your shirt, reflecting the turmoil inside you as you don't meet his gaze. “i s-said, can you do me a favor?”
with a suck of his teeth, katsuki grabs you by the arm, bringing your face close to his ear. “grown ass woman but can't even fuckin' talk right. speak. up.”
“katsuki,” you repeat, louder this time, although through clenched teeth and shut eyes, “can you do me a favor?”
“ah,” he says, like he didn't understand you the whole time. “what sort of favor?”
“a kiss…”
“you want me to kiss you?” he asks, his teasing tone deliberately getting under your skin.
“i don’t want to kiss you—” you snap, embarrassment burning through you, and a sharp tsk from izuku cuts you off instantaneously. katsuki just lets out a low, drawn-out “oooh,” mocking your lack of self-control as you do something izuku clearly doesn’t like.
“get closer to him,” izuku tells you. reluctantly you do so, annoyed as you are forced to straddle katsuki’s lap. when he rests his hands on your hips, clearly enjoying himself, you can’t help but squirm. you avert your eyes, swallowing the fact that you’ll just have to go along with the blond’s teasing.
“katsuki, i want you to kiss me,” you mumble, begrudgingly. “can you kiss me?”
he laughs at your expression, his fingers curling around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “you have to look at someone when you ask them a favor like this.”
you bite back a sob, the humiliation clawing at your chest. forcing yourself not to look away, you rush the words out, all too fast this time. “katsukicanyoupleasekissme?”
“damn, you fuckin' must like making things harder for yourself, huh? slowlyyyy, girl— i’m not going anywhere."
taking a moment to draw in a shaky breath, heart hammering and ears burning, you finally manage to ask properly, all while holding eye contact.
“katsuki can you please kiss me? i, i really want you to.”
“oh, good girl,” he praises, like you’re a dog. “a long kiss or a short kiss?”
at his teasing, you begin to sniffle, hating how drawn out this was. you look over your shoulder at izuku, awaiting for what your answer should be.
“a long one.”
“a long one,” you echo, silent tears dripping down your cheeks, a sight which goes straight to katsuki’s dick.
“i can give you a long one, yeah,” katsuki snickers, the grin on his face almost unsettling. “c’mere.”
at his instruction, you hesitantly lean forward, shaky hands reaching out to his face. tentatively, your lips brush his, a pit forming in your stomach as the kiss deepens— not because you were kissing another man that wasn’t your boyfriend, but because katsuki was scary! you realized far too late just how nice your boyfriend really was to you.
similar to the way he carried himself, katsuki was rough with his kisses, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth just to hear you yelp and cry some more. when you managed to wrangle yourself away to catch your breath, he pulled you back, his hand wrapped around the back of your head. this time, as you kissed, you felt his free hand snake up under your shirt, giving your braless tits a full-palmed squeeze. your eyes widened at the contact, and you placed your hands on his chest, trying to create some distance.
“i-izuku!” you called out to your boyfriend with a whine, hoping that he was now satisfied with this display. “he’s touching my boobs!”
however, his only response was a shrug, leaning back against the bed’s headboard as he continued to enjoy the show, but not without adjusting the position of his dick in his pants. “you know your safe word.”
at izuku’s reply, katsuki laughed, quick to work your shirt over your head. as your bare chest met the nippy air, you reflexively covered yourself with your arms. the blond then just rolled his eyes, peeling your hands out of the way so he could continue to play with your boobs as he moved to mark up the sensitive skin of your neck. biting and sucking, you winced with every hickey he left, forced to give into his manhandling. “you into the prude act?” katsuki asks izuku with a chuckle, right after leaving a particularly painful one on your lower jaw.
“she’s reserved, not a prude,” izuku corrects.
“reserved? that’s a cute word for it. i can see why you put up with her bullshit. these feel great,” katsuki comments on your tits, rolling a nipple in between his fingers and silencing your consequential whine with another deep kiss.
“yeah, they’re nice. you should try out her pussy.”
despite your haze, your thighs clench around katsuki’s hips at izuku’s offer to him, unknowing if it was anticipation or fear. nevertheless, you speak up, shaking your head.
“n-no! no! you said just a kiss, baby!”
your boyfriend simply arches an eyebrow at your protest. “you don’t think he needs to give you a kiss down there?”
“bet she’s already soaked,” katsuki adds with a laugh.
“i’m not!” you lie, not wanting to give katsuki the satisfaction that he was right. however, seeing right through you, the two men share a knowing look.
“baby,” izuku calls out to you, beckoning for you to come to him. “come here.”
although you're relieved to be allowed off katsuki's lap, a shiver runs down your spine as you crawl towards izuku, left only to wonder what could be going through his mind. when you are finally in front of him, he works you back into his lap again. then, his hands begin to tug the waistband of your sweats downwards.
“izuku, wait, no!” you cry, squirming to keep your pants on, not wanting to show his best friend proof of your arousal.
“quit it,” he orders you with a rasp, an arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you still. knowing going against his wishes will just get you in deeper trouble, you reluctantly oblige, hiding your face as your slick-stained panties are revealed to two sets of hungry eyes.
“looks like someone is a liar...” katsuki chuckles, now sitting in front of you as izuku kept your thighs open.
“jesus, babe,” izuku mumbles against the shell of your ear as he examines just how turned on you were, his fingers moving to press down against your clit through the thin fabric. “you like being bullied, huh?”
all you can manage in response is a shake of your head, embarrassment tempting you once more to let tears roll down your cheeks.
“i told you,” katsuki says to izuku with a laugh, face lowering near your core, his breath hot against your thighs as he watches izuku play with your clothed slit. “girls don’t like when you play nice all the time. they like being treated like stupid whores.”
“is that right?” izuku asks, but your brain doesn’t register that he’s talking to you at first. at your lack of response, his hand taps your cheek to draw your attention. “hey— do you like it better when i’m nice or mean to you?”
“nice,” you choke out, tensing up as katsuki lays in between your legs, and rests his head on your knee.
“ah, so you think i’m mean to you sometimes?”
“i, no…?”
“i think she does,” katsuki antagonizes, laughing once more, the sound pulling a glare out of you.
izuku lets out sigh, pulling your panties to the side as he does, and both men watch as the slick of your folds stick to izuku’s fingers. “that’s a shame,” he mumbles. your breath hitches as he spreads your pussy’s lips to let his best friend take a look inside. “i think katsuki has to show you what mean actually is if you think i’ve ever been mean to you, baby.”
you find yourself shaking your head again — “nononono” — thighs trembling and twitching to clamp shut, yet unable to due to the pressure of izuku’s forearms against them. “oh no, yeah,” he mockingly pouts. “give katsuki another kiss, okay?”
your gaze meets katsuki’s as he looks up at you, a grin plastered on his face as he slowly leans his head towards your entrance, and places chaste kiss after chaste kiss around it. each one has you whimpering, as well as fighting the urge to buck your hips against his mouth as you traitorously want more. eventually, katsuki begins to lick, his warm tongue lapping up the drool leaking from your pussy, and drawing out a moan from you.
“gross,” izuku grimaces as katsuki’s tongue touches his finger as he was still keeping you spread open. he pulls away his hand, bringing it up to your lips, expecting you to suck off the collected slick. obediently, you do, taking his fingers into your mouth, and tasting your own arousal on them. in response to izuku’s reaction, katsuki just smirks, before continuing to eat you out, hands splaying against your inner thighs to hold them open now since izuku withdrew his assistance.
the fervor of katsuki’s mouth on you causes your back to grind against izuku’s heavy and hard bulge, a hiss escaping his lips at the friction. the gears in your head begin to turn at the sound, and you turn your head to side. “can i help you with your pr-problem, baby?” you ask, hoping it would get you on his good side and convince him to be nice to you.
unfortunately, yet again, izuku sees right through you. still, he smiles, allowing you a brief moment to think you were so smart. “oh — my good girl — of course,” he whispers, placing a kiss onto your shoulder. he motions to katsuki to unlatch himself off you, and the other man obliges, resting on his heels as he wipes his mouth of your juices with the back of his hand.
thighs still quivering, you flip onto your stomach, almost drooling over the sight of izuku tugging down his pajama pants just enough to free his dick, the head thudding softly against his lower abdomen when it is.
your cheek rests against his inner thigh as you run your fingers up his length, all before capturing it in a firm grip, and giving his dick a few strokes of admiration. as you brush a hair behind your ear, right about to take him into your mouth, you feel katsuki’s rough hands behind you, suddenly groping the globes of your ass. before you can protest, izuku stops you, his hand threading throughout your hair and grabbing you by the roots in a gentle tug, instructing you to focus and continue. begrudgingly, you do, finding your lower half at katsuki’s mercy as you are occupied with sucking izuku’s dick.
wrapping your lips around his flared tip, your tongue flicks against the prominent veins of his shaft, before enveloping him in totality, down to the base, with your forehead pressing against his abs. the result of your efforts is a low, tender “yeah… sh— good girl…” from your boyfriend, the groan going straight-down to the heartbeat of your clit.
eventually you find a steady rhythm, your head bobbing up and down izuku’s length at a comfortable speed, only for it to be interrupted when you feel katsuki’s tongue against your pussy once more, your escaping moans from the sensation causing vibrations around izuku, making him twitch in your mouth.
as you begin to lose focus, trying not to squeal when katsuki takes a shallow bite into the fat of your ass, izuku kisses his teeth, the sound cutting through your haze. “baby,” he murmurs, the warning wrapped in softness, “if katsuki makes you cum before you make me, i’m gonna let him fuck your pussy till it’s wrecked.”
and while you scramble to continue with your hard work, you find the cards stacked against you as pro-hero, bakugo katsuki becomes invigorated with competition and the promise of a prize. grabbing you by the hips, he buries his face in between your asscheeks, tongue plunging in and out of your sopping wetness, licking, sucking— all done with the intent on making you cum quick. all you can manage to do is pathetically clamp your thighs around his head as you struggle to adjust to the sudden overwhelming intensity, finding it difficult to focus on swirling your tongue around izuku’s frenulum in a satisfying manner.
it’s when you feel katsuki fucking motorboating your clit with the flat of his tongue, drool running down his chin and coating your inner thighs, that you realize you might be done for. as your approaching climax comes, you try your best not to give away any tells, resisting the urge to curl your toes. unfortunately, there was no way to play off the resulting spasms running throughout your body. with a toothy grin, katsuki places one last kiss to your pussy, before sitting back on his haunches, priding himself on a job well done. “she came~” he drawls in a grating, sing-sone tone.
your glossed over eyes as you looked up at izuku to deny it did nothing for your case. “i didn’t— i didn’t, wait, wait,” you pleaded, hearing the rustle of katsuki’s belt unbuckle behind you, and hoping izuku would believe you and tell his friend to wait, despite knowing deep down he wouldn’t.
“if you didn’t cum,” katsuki snickers, finally shimmying off his jeans, and you gasp as you feel the mushroom-shaped tip of his dick languidly sliding up and down your slit, threatening to push past the barrier of resistance, “then you wouldn’t be too sensitive for me to put it in, yeah?”
expecting you to answer the other man, izuku arches an eyebrow down at you, feigning tenderness as he brushes a hair sticking to the sweat of your forehead out of your face. “y-yeah,” you answer, knees struggling to support themselves as katsuki lifts your hips up to align himself better. as you feel the crown of his cock gradually entering you, you let out a telling hiss, the stretch obviously too overstimulating. “but, wait, you didn’t— fuck — you didn’t make me cum yet, you can’t—”
your chest heaves as he buries himself to the hilt, fresh tears running down your cheeks as you whimper and gasp. “s-stupid!” you spit out in frustration, before sobbing into your boyfriend’s lap. katsuki could feel every clench of your pussy around him, the grip like a vice as a result of your recent orgasm, and he bites his lower lip to suppress a groan.
“she’s — fuckkkk... yeah, baby, tighten up just like that — doing a lot... of talking for someone who should be sucking,” katsuki laughs breathlessly as he begins to move. izuku only hums in reply, watching how your face contorts as katsuki hits that soft spongy spot inside you.
“is it too much?” izuku asks you with a murmur, checking in on you. when you shake your head, a soft smile spreads across his face. “good. then i don’t see why you stopped.”
as he gestures towards his dick, signaling for you to continue what you were doing, your brows furrow, biting back the urge to say something mean. with a huff, you take him back into your mouth.
meanwhile, katsuki’s hold on your hips become bruising as he pulls you back to slam your ass in tandem with his thrusts. upon seeing you struggle to give him head once more, izuku takes it upon himself to steady you, fingers intermingling with hair as he grabs the sides of your head and bucks his cock down your throat.
the splutter of your slobber mixes together with your tears as your mouth becomes a fleshlight for your boyfriend’s pleasure. “suck,” he says plainly, like he’s doing you a favor since he’d be doing all the moving. in a way, he was right, as all you had to do now was hollow your cheeks and lay your tongue out expectantly.
just as the sharp sting of overstimulation finally began to melt into pleasure, that’s when katsuki's movements stuttered, much to your annoyance. “sh-shit,” he curses, your back arching as he drills himself deeper. “it's chill, if, fuck, i do it inside— right?”
“she'd prefer it,” izuku answers for you since your mouth was occupied at the moment, heavy balls slapping against your chin. “always” — plap — “complaining” — plapplapplap — “when” — plap — “i” — plap — “let” — plap — “it” — plap — “out” — plap — “on” — plap — “her” — plap — “back.” he punctuates his words with a groan as he makes you take him to the hilt, holding you there as you gag.
the velvet of your walls squeeze down on katsuki as you choke on izuku's dick, and the former finds himself unable to stop from burying his cock deep inside you and pumping your womb with thick creamy spurts. “fuuuuuck,” he moans with a shudder, shutting his eyes tight. after a moment to catch his breath, he shortly pulls out of you, watching how his cum oozed from your pussy; your perseverance earns a slap to your ass from him.
“gentlemanly,” izuku comments dryly on how his friend was already limp so fast, as well as how he had came before you during penetration, and did not give you a second orgasm. the judgment came from a place like he wasn’t face fucking you relentlessly.
katuski only rolls his eyes, one arm resting on his stomach as he sprawled himself out on the bed, watching you two continue. “i've been busy,” he shrugs. “i haven't gotten some in a bit. plus, i already made her cum earlier.”
with a sigh, izuku looks down at you, your jaw obviously beginning to ache. “that's why he doesn't have a girlfriend,” he murmured, yet your brain was too busy melting out of your ears to show any sort of response.
taking in your disheveled appearance — bites and handprints left all over you from katsuki, not to mention saliva, pre-cum, sweat, and tears coating your cheeks and neck — izuku finally takes pity, letting you off of him and allowing you the chance to actually get some oxygen to your brain. a soothing touch combs through your hair as you cough and sniffle, having never been treated so roughly before during sex.
“my poor baby,” he coos and you pout as he takes you into his arms, the tip of his dick poking against your well-used folds as you rest on his lap. “katsuki’s so mean, huh?”
“you made him be mean to me,” you huff, wiping your tears against his shoulder, all while your hips absentmindedly grind against him.
a hand settles on your waist, while the other rubs your back in comfort, laughing at your words. “would you believe me if i said that’s just how he is?”
you nod quietly, murmuring. “he’s scary…”
before you know it, the teasing tip of izuku’s shaft sliding along your slit had slipped in due to the slick mix of fluids between your bodies. a breathless gasp leaves your lips as you feel the swollen head nestle snugly along your cervix.
“you’re not gonna break my stuff anymore, right baby?” he asks with a throaty groan, half-lidded eyes not leaving where the two of you were connected, watching as katsuki’s cum inside you frothed around the base of his dick. “gonna be good for me so i don’t have to ask katsuki for anything anymore, right?”
“m-mhm…”
“promise?”
“yes, yeah…”
he smiles, pressing a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips. “i love you, baby.”
“i love you too…” you return, your pussy fluttering around him at his words.
katsuki, still lying on the bed and now checking his phone, mutters an “ew,” under his breath, undermining the moment.
izuku looks past you to furrow his brow at his friend. “if you’re done, you can leave.”
“i’m just a piece of meat to you…” katsuki says with a dramatic sigh, before searching the floor for his discarded clothes to put back on. “i’m eating whatever shit you got in your fridge.”
as katsuki leaves the bedroom, izuku rolls his eyes before flicking them up to yours, studying your dazed expression. leaning back on the bed, he proceeds to take his sweat-drenched shirt off at last. “you wanna take what you need, honey?” he asks gently, seeing how antsy you are.
you nod again, having been feverish upon feeling every twitch of his dick inside your walls. slowly, you lift up your hips before slamming them back down against his, effectively riding him. you had been so close to your second high before katsuki rudely deprived you of it with his early orgasm, and you could feel it lingering within you.
“careful,” izuku says with a breathlessly laugh, thumb wiping away the drool dribbling down your chin. “don’t tire yourself out so fast…”
“m’ okay,” you mumble before letting out a moan, eyes shutting tight when you angle yourself to hit that spot.
finding purchase on your hips, izuku’s hands help guide you up and down his length, as well maintain the pace. “who feels better, baby— me or katsuki?” he asks, goosebumps prickling your arms as his breath tickles your ear.
“you,” you reply immediately, and his heart melts at just how soft and clingy you were for him.
“yeah?” his head dips in between your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, and swirling his tongue around the pebbled flesh. “you’re such a good girl; i’m sorry for being so mean to you,” he whispers against your skin, before placing an open-mouthed kiss. “it’s just because i love you, you know that right?”
your lips purse as you squirm under his ministrations, a familiar coil-like sensation threatening to snap soon. “i-i know— m’ gonna cum, izu…”
“me too,” he mumbles, now bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, a thumb hurriedly reaching down to rub your clit to help send you over the edge once more.
as pleasure finally comes crashing down on the two of you, his lips captured yours in a kiss, sucking on your tongue with a low groan as your walls milked every last drop of his release.
covered in a sheen of sweat, your bodies trembled as you rode out the aftershocks together, chests rising and falling against each other as you continued to kiss gently. finally, izuku pulls away to catch his breath, and you collapse on top of him, listening to the pitter-patter of his heart as you do the same, feeling almost uncomfortable with the loads of two men inside you.
a calm and intimate silence falls between you two, before the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen cuts through it, a sound you both laugh at as you piece together that katsuki was planning on doing some cooking.
“do you think he’ll make anything for us?” izuku asks, clearing his throat when his voice cracks with rawness.
you shake your head, sighing. “no— he’s selfish.”
izuku laughs gently, placing a kiss against your hairline. “i’ll uber something if he doesn’t. now, let’s go take a bath together, hm? gotta give my pretty girl her reward for taking her lecture so well too.”
your nose scrunches at the proposition, and you plop a pillow on his face, earning you a giggle from him. “ugh, no. if i have any more dick, i'm gonna throw up.”
ꉂ ᵎᵎ tag you're it! list: @thatonegirl412 @msbyswife @tsukki-lover
ꉂ ᵎᵎ a/n: ok i post this and go to sleep if any typos or poor grammar get reposted. like Okay u hate me i get it
Aki— I thank @dotcantwrite for this idea,, I was genuinely just thinking about this before leaving the dormitory and then opened tumblr and saw dot's anon talking about izuku with piercings 🫡 also sorry for the shit ending I ran out of creative juice for it.
"So how many are we talking about?" You asked while rolling a blunt.
"I don't really remember how many I have." Izuku shrugged as he leaned back on the couch, emerald eyes glancing to the side to watch you roll two blunts– one for him and one for you.
"How about I just show it to you?" He asked, a small grin on his face, making his snake bites glint under the light of the room.
Who would've thought showing piercings might lead to one thing to another?
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
You were now still sitting at the couch, watching Izuku as he showed you his piercings. He had both of his ears completely pierced. By completely, like LITERALLY pierced– from daith, took, tragus, lobe, transverse lobe, anti tragus, orbital snug, conch, helix, industrial, and a forward helix.
"On both ears I think it's around 24 piercings already?" He shrugged as if it was nothing, then was his face. He has an eyebrow piercing, a bridge a septum, dimple, an anti-eyebrow, and snake bites. He also has a double tongue piercing on his split tongue.
"That's 8 on your face.." you murmured and Izuku just nodded his head, a small smirk on his lips. "Mhm, and there's more." He cockily purred.
"There's more?!" You looked up at him like he was crazy.
"Let's say I have two more on my torso and four down there." He grinned.
You looked at him like he was crazy, "the fuck you mean you have four down ther– YOU GOT A FRENUM AND A JACOB'S LADDER?!" He just laughed at your surprised outburst.
Izuku motherfucking Midoriya got a total of 38 piercings all over body and he was planning to add more.
Hi hi!! So tomorrow is my birthday, and I REALLY liked your Izuku x reader, I was wondering if maybe I could get an Izu x reader bday fic? If not- totally cool! Figured I’d ask <3
first of all, happy birthday!! i hope it's lovely and that this short little fic adds some joy to your day! <3
Izuku is physically incapable of being calm about your birthday. It’s the first birthday you’ve celebrated together as a couple, so he wants to have everything go right.
Which means he might go a little overboard on birthday prep.
He sends you flowers every day the week before, each one bearing a card counting down the date. T minus 3 days until my baby’s birthday! Your friends tease you mercilessly, but you actually find it sweet. It’s so Izuku, so cute and anticipatory.
He consults everyone you’ve ever known to determine what presents are suitable for you. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Izuku you were talking about (and that he played Bakugou’s voice memo OUT LOUD), you’d be a little suspicious at how often his phone is lighting up.
When the day of your birthday arrives, you nearly expect him to have a balloon arch over your bedroom doorway. But no, it’s just Izuku in the kitchen making coffee, sweats hanging low on his hips and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He’s needed them more as he’s gotten older, and you think they’re the sexiest thing he can wear.
"Hey, handsome." You hug him from behind.
He cranes his neck to peer down at you, smiling widely. "Morning, birthday girl. Made you your favorite coffee." His hand spans behind him to drag you in front of his body, cradling you between the countertop and his chest. He presses a mug into your hands and kisses your cheek. "How do you wanna start your day?"
You lean into him, a sharp little thrum of arousal slicing through your stomach when your ass brushes against his groin. He’s not hard yet but he’s always sizable, and the idea that he could shuck your pajama bottoms off and bend you over the counter suddenly has your head spinning.
"Whatcha thinking about there?"
There’s such an obviously pleased smile on his face that you can’t help but roll your eyes.
"You know what I’m thinking about."
His hand tightens on your hip. "Put the coffee down, honey."
It’s amazing how quickly you spark desire in the other, how one subtle shift of your hips will make Izuku grind his hardening cock against the meat of your ass.
"You don’t have a schedule we need to adhere to?"
He laughs. "That’s for later. I want you all to myself this morning."
You’re already sensitive and swollen from how good he fucked you last night. His fingers gently caress your folds, thumb rubbing over the hood of your clit. You groan, need already climbing in your lower belly.
"Let’s use just a little bit of lube, huh, baby? Help make sure it’s good for you? I did get a little rough with you last night." He kisses a path in between your shoulder blades. "I’ll try and warm it up a little in my hands, I know you hate how cold it is."
Your hands grip the counter to steady yourself. "Izu, you’ve got to stop being the sweetest fucking guy I’ve ever dated."
"Why’s that?” His fingers pry you apart again, nudging your entrance. He swirls the pad of his thumb over your clit while his fingers gently suck into you, eased in by the lube. it helps the gentle ache left behind from yesterday. "That would ruin my plans of eventually convincing you to marry me."
A little pulse flutters in your stomach.
"Oh. Do you like that, baby? That I wanna marry you one day?”
Your head drops when two of his fingers slide inside of you.
"Of course I like it," you gasp. "The hottest pro hero in Japan wants to marry me?"
"Pretty sure that title belongs to Todoroki—"
"Could we please not talk about Shouto right now?"
"Right, right. Sorry, baby.” He takes his fingers out of your pussy and licks your slick away with the flat of his tongue, smiling when he sees the look on your face. "That’s my title in your eyes, right? That’s all I care about.”
You blush so furiously it makes your ears burn. It still takes you aback how sweet Izuku can be.
"We’ve got hours, birthday girl. Let's go put them to good use."
cw/tw: 18+, pinv, cunnilingus 😛, college!au, the concept of bakugo katsuki being a plot device for sex, angst (?), softdom!brattamer!izuku, sub!fem!brat!ex-childhood best friend turned (ex-)childhood bully!reader, the discussion of switch!katsuki, bisexuality (lol), reader has a pussy & boobs, you argue ooc izuku, i argue izuku if he was peak, no verbal consent (implied), noncon elements, toxic elements, jealousy that could(‘ve) be(en)solved by communication + maturity + polyamory, physical violence (reader slaps izuku in da face), 4k~ words for goddamn deku
a/n: self indulgent cause thats the magic of fanfiction + convoluted tags cause i found it funny
“deku,” you call out curtly, not yet bothered enough to take your eyes off your laptop’s screen, “stop doing that.”
“midoriya,” he corrects suggests as a polite alternative to call him. calloused fingers stop drumming the desk, as per your request. “or izuku, if you want to stop pretending like you haven’t known me since we were kids.”
out of the corner of your eye, your gaze follow his hands as they settle on his lap. “we haven’t talked for like, five years. i’m not doing that.”
“oh,” his eyebrow cocks, head tilting as he studies your body language, “but you’re okay with calling me something mean instead? don’t you think it’s time to quit all that?”
he speaks so casually about your behavior as if you’re some petulant child. as if you and katsuki didn’t make high school a living nightmare for him. as if it was all some sort of… mild nuisance at most. it already embarrasses you to think about how you’ve treated him in the past. more often than you’d like to admit, your heart wrenches up at night over bullying him, the guilt seeping into it. his composure — every time you’ve been around him in a group setting since entering university, and especially right now — just made it worse. but it was just something about being alone with him that made you like this; you couldn’t help it.
you resist the urge to bite the inside of your cheek and instead offer a flippant shrug. “i’m just… used to calling you that,” you say in a casual defense.
the chuckle that promptly fills the air is a swirl of disbelief and amusment. “really?” he questions, “wouldn’t you be more used to ‘izu-chan?”
heat creeps up your cheeks. the only response you can muster to his teasing about the childhood nickname is a scoff. you aptly force your attention back to the group assignment, pretending to focus. he does the same — although not without that stupid smirk still tugging at his lips.
now you remember why you get so mean with him. nobody else in the entire world pisses you off like midoriya izuku. the sooner you finished this stupid project, the sooner you could leave izu-chan’s deku’s stupid apartment. especially, his stupid bedroom. with all his stupid comics and figures on the shelves. stupid posters that littered the walls. not to mention, his stupid face. eyes. freckles. lips. adam’s apple. collar bones. arms. abs. hands. thighs. dic--
it’s only when he clears his throat do you snap out of your blatant study of his crotch. you don’t have a guess for how long you’d been ogling him for.
“distracted?” he asks simply, tone casual and infuriatingly knowing.
“no,” you reply, implicitly telling him to drop it. you shrink into your seat, suddenly invigorated with a never-before-seen concentration on your computer’s screen. “i was just…” you begin, before shutting up, struck with the realization you didn’t have to explain yourself.
“just what?”
“nothing. do your work.”
he’s nice enough not to push it any more, giving a kind-sounding hum of acknowledgement. yet, the silence that follows does nothing for your overthinking. instead, you fall deeper into embarrassment as you worry about whatever assumption he’s possibly formed. therefore, for the sake of your dignity — you convince yourself — you break the silence to try to explain.
you glance up at him again, your chair creaking as you — for some reason — inch just a little closer. “what size shirt do you wear?” you ask with an exasperated sigh, one that would make no sense to him, unaware of the storm of thoughts behind it. the question comes off as random as you’d think it would and bitchier than you meant it to be. izuku ultimately thinks nothing of it though.
“depends on the fit. large. extra large.”
“in men’s, right?”
“you implying i wear something else?”
“what? no — i was just clarifying…” your brows knit together as you bite back something mindlessly snippy. “you’re... big,” you blurt out instead, heat rushing to your face once more the moment you realize how that sounded.
“…now i really think you’re implying something else,” he teases. the confidence he had gained since entering college was incredibly irksome to you, to the say the least.
“i- ew, no, yuck. that’s — it’s just that you’re… bigger. as a person. compared to how you were as a kid. y’know — scrawny.” you stumble over your words, scrambling to explain while keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.
he sighs, lowering his head onto the desk, arms and cheek pressed against the surface as he glances you over. “sure,” he replies, like he doesn’t believe you. his tone and behavior only serves to get you more worked up.
"you were!" you exclaim, “you were arguably smaller than most dudes at U.A.” you notice then that that annoying ass smirk was still plastered on his face and you can’t stop yourself fast enough from slipping back into immature habits. “whatever,” you sigh, feigning apathy. “i bet that it’s still small.”
you don’t know what exactly you were trying to accomplish with that childish jab, but it was only digging you deeper into the hole that you already made for yourself.
“still?” izuku asks, questioning your word choice — not so much confused, but tickled. it makes you hesitate, forced to reconsider whether he actually does have a big dick. and worse, whether he’s always had one (which is something you obviously, never thought about before). something in the air shifts as he leans back in his stupid gaming chair, his body angled a little more towards you.
“...yeah,” you say, voice not nearly as convincing as you wanted it to be, trying to ignore how your pulse has quickened.
at first he says nothing, seemingly lost in thought, before a quiet laugh slips out — like there’s a joke that you’re not in on. because there is.
“what? what’s so funny?” you demand, brows furrowing the way they always do when you talk to him.
amusement yet again laces his voice as he recomposes himself. “you and kacchan are both just… so bad at flirting. he said the same exact thing.”
the cogs in your head begin to turn, along with a pit forming in your stomach. a dawning realization about the nature of your childhood friends' relationship, and even yours, slowly creeps over you. however, you’re either too in disbelief to connect the dots, or too unwilling to.
“what?” you ask, voice now uncharacteristically small.
the rough warmth of his hand settles on your knee as he speaks. you don’t move it — can’t— too caught by the sight of his face slowly leaning close to yours. his voice is low and careful, like a parent letting a child in on a secret. “you and him don’t know how to flirt,” he repeats. "you guys get all mean when you like someone because you're too embarrassed by your feelings. it's okay, i've never minded. it just gets a little old when we're this age."
you become agitated as he talks down to you. additionally, a flicker of something — jealousy, maybe — twists in your chest. you don't even know who exactly it's towards, but the strange, hollow feeling like you're being left out gnaws at you.
"i, i'm not flirting with you, dumbass," you scoff, trying to recover. "are you stupid?"
he laughs, low and amused. “he said that too.”
“okay, well, he wasn’t flirting with you either,” you say, a little too quickly — as if you’d know. the words come out half in defense of your best friend's honor, and half in defense of… whatever it was that exists between you and him. "he wouldn't do that."
"what makes you think he wouldn't?" izuku asks simply, although he doesn't allow you to the chance to make your case. "you think i don't got a pretty face?"
“because he hates your guts, moron,” you snap, voice sharp. "and, because... " your words trail off as you are unable to put into words the complexities of you and katsuki's relationship.
izuku mimics your hesitation with a playful pout. “because… it makes you less special?”
your face burns. "you don’t know what you’re the fuck you’re talking about.”
“yeah?” he teases, leaning closer, chairs right next to each other now. “you don’t think it's obvious how you feel about him? you've always followed him around, like a lost little puppy, doing whatever he tells you; it doesn't take a genius to work it out. or maybe...” his hand, no longer resting on your knee, slides deliberately up and down your thigh, slow and measured, your skin on fire beneath his touch. “maybe… you just don’t like sharing me with kacchan?”
your pulse surges -- in your chest, behind your eyes -- like something’s about to burst. you can’t take it. this new version of izuku, calm and sure of himself, unshaken by your presence -- it’s unbearable. five years have passed since you last spoke to him, and whatever dynamic you once had is long gone. you hate the way it feels, not having power over him anymore. what's worse is how precise his analysis is. forced to think about it, you can’t stand the thought of katsuki secretly harboring feelings for izuku all this time, nor the terrifying possibility that you might want izuku for yourself. the realization settles in your gut like a stone, too heavy, and too terrifying to face.
you know you should control yourself — that it’s wrong, childish, and violent — but your body moves faster than your mind. your palm connects with his cheek in a harsh slap, driven by the desperate need to reclaim the upper hand. you’re on your feet before you even register what you’ve done, shock gripping you by your shoulders as you can only wait for izuku’s reaction.
the man, simply clicks his tongue, a low humorless chuckle escaping him as he slowly rises from his seat. then, his hands are on your arms, and the two of you engage in a wordless struggle, tension crackling between you as he wrestles for control without hurting you. in an instant, your back hits the edge of his bed. fear curls in your stomach as you resist -- not because he'd do anything cruel, but because you know he has every right to put you in your place. you’ve always dreaded confrontation and especially, the accountability that comes with it.
no one speaks for a while. your chest heaves, each breath shallow and uneven, as he forms a cage above you with his arms, his hands gripping your wrists. apart from your breathing, the only sound in the room is the steady ticking of his all might clock on the wall. his face draws close, so close that your breaths mingle, yet his expression remains unreadable. he’s just watching you... studying you. then, finally, he breaks the silence.
“me and kacchan have fucked,” he says plainly, deliberately trying to hurt you without the need of raising a single hand. his eyes are locked on yours to gauge your reaction, observing as the jealousy stabs your chest like a knife, your expression crumpling as the information rips you apart. tears begin to well at the corners of your eyes and it reminds him of when you guys were kids -- how you’d pout if they ever left you out of playing with them.
you thrash, like a mouse caught in a trap. "get off me…! i'm sorry for what i did, but, fuck, it didn't even hurt you--"
“why are you so upset?” he cuts you off, the sickly sweet tone only deepening your guilt. “he didn't tell you? i'd say that sucks, but you guys left me out of everything else. hell, you made me the target.”
“i only did it because kacchan told me to,” you bark back, avoiding accountability, as well as the urge to cry.
“but that’s not really it, is it?” he presses. “you know what i think? i think, you're the greediest little girl i’ve ever met. you can’t handle not getting your way, which is why you went along with whatever he told you to do; because it got you what you wanted.”
"that's not true-- " you interject, but he cuts you off again, tightening his grip around your wrists, but not enough to hurt you.
"isn't it? because the way i see it, it was like killing two birds with one stone for you. you'd get attention from him because you'd do what he says, and attention from me because you’re were being a bitch. i think, you’re upset because you think i don’t have to work for his love ‘like you do’ -- but you don’t fucking get it. he spoils you. i am the one who has to work for it. so, do you really think it would've been fair if i just gave you what you wanted too?"
despite izuku's overall calm demeanor, the raw frustration mixed with jealousy simmering beneath his surface was unmistakable. it was a side of him that you hadn’t seen in a while. that’s why, when a warmth began to gather low in your core, you found yourself unable to say anything, afraid you'd give away your perverted arousal and inadvertently prove his suspicions about your feelings for him right.
unfortunately, he catches on quickly, your blown out pupils making you.
“you’re serious?” he asks, voice carrying both utter disbelief and something darker. “of course you would get off to this.”
you panic, clinging onto what little dignity you have left. “no, i’m not--”
“just stop.” the command is quiet, but it lands like a blow. in one swift motion, he wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, the pressure against your clothed sex sending sparks of pleasure through your body. your hips buck against him subsequently, unable to control yourself.
“see?” he demonstrates, almost amused if he wasn’t so ticked off. “were you even listening to a word I said?”
your ears ring with embarrassment. “i was...”
“then tell me what i said.”
your throat makes a strangled noise. "i'm greedy... and a bitch..."
"close, but i meant verbatim."
“i can’t do that!” you object with a whine.
his sigh follows, as if he expected nothing less. “then you weren’t listening.”
he straightens, releasing your wrists and sitting back on his heels. the silence stretches, heavy and uncertain.
“what am I going to do with you?” he murmurs at last — more to himself than to you.
“i’m not a dog…” you grumble, shifting onto your elbows. “you don’t have to talk about me like that.”
izuku scoffs, rolling his eyes. “you act like one. god, do you always have something to say? you pull that shit when you do it with him?"
you go shy at the subject. izuku can feel his dick twitch traitorously against his thigh in seeing the difference from your usual behavior and over the mental image of the you and katsuki.
“you don’t, do you?” he slowly works out. “fuck, lucky bastard gets you all… sweet and soft. doesn’t even have to do anything, and you fall apart. man, he doesn’t even fucking deserve that. shit, you telling me i don’t deserve that? it never crossed your mind that if you’d just tried to be nice to me, you would've got what you wanted?”
you open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. sweat sticks your hair to your forehead. you’re flushed. breathless. in other words, you look fucked out, and he hasn't even touched you.
"damn it," is all your ex-childhood best friend can say before crashing his lips onto yours. the kiss is searing, with years of foreplay yearning behind it. fisted hands tangle with hair before helping the other person take off their clothes — like it’ll kill them both to be wearing a shirt any longer.
"how’d you do it with him?" you ask breathlessly once the two of you break apart for air. even though it makes you insanely jealous, the gnaw of curiosity trumps the feeling.
"tell me what you think we did," izuku murmurs against the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and biting. nimble fingers make quick work of your bra clasp and toss the garment aside.
you swallow hard as cool air kisses your newly exposed skin, nipples already pebbled from arousal. in a full palm grope, he plays with one of your breasts, while taking the other into his mouth. "kacchan bottomed?" you guess, sucking in your breath as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, a sound which he relishes.
he smiles at your theory, your nipple in between his teeth as he does so. he sucks on the stiff peak for few seconds longer, before releasing it with a wet pop in order to respond to you. "mhm. is he submissive with you or something?” he asks, wondering how’d you know.
a whimper is drawn out of you as a result of his ministrations. you shake your head. “he’s mean to me.”
“aw, poor thing,” izuku cooed mockingly. "rough?"
you answer with a meek nod, watching with bated breath as he goes to undo the button of your shorts.
“i’d figured that’s how he’d do it with a girl. when me and him did it,” izuku explains with a low voice, “he was really bossy. ‘cause he was desperate, y’know? it was cute. begged me to pound his ass hard.”
he lays a large flat hand against your lower belly, pausing his movements to demonstrate. “you could see it bulge right about here.”
your thighs clench automatically, feeling lightheaded at the thought of it all. “s’not fair,” you whine, needy and shameless.
“next time,” he promises. “it’ll be all three of us.” with a firm tug, he yanks your shorts down your legs and off of you, pleased with the sight of your positively soaked panties. his dick throbs almost painfully in his pants as he examines how your arousal clings to the thin piece of cotton. with a smooth movement, izuku hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them aside, finally able to drink in your naked form in its entirety. without much (no) hesitation, he unceremoniously dives forward, sealing his lips around your aching pussy, feasting on you with a single-minded intensity.
your thighs reflexively clamp around his head as your fingers thread throughout his hair. “shi— izu…” you pant, stifling a moan. his hot breath fans against your folds, lips suckling your clit, and a familiar smirk creeps onto his face at the pitch of your voice. “oh, so i’m ‘izu’ when i’m eating you out, got it,” he scoffs, lightheartedly. in response, your pussy flutters against his tongue causing him to let out a groan that vibrates against your mound. it ends up leaving you aching for more -- your greedy hole now practically sucking his tongue deeper with each lap. luckily, izuku nears his limit, willing to give you what you want.
his last final slurp of your pussy is straight-up nasty sounding. as he sits back on his haunches, he wipes the glistening evidence of your arousal on his chin with the back of his hand. cooly, he wrangles off his belt buckle and zipper before shimmying his pants down, your eyes focused on his muscular thighs as he does so. you then watch as his boxers hit the floor, freeing his dick, which slaps against his abs -- the tip is flared and pink, with beads of pre-cum dribbling down its curved left-leaning length, all of which makes your pussy drool in anticipation.
as izuku reaches for a condom located in his nightstand, you stop him mid-motion. "i'm on birth control," you tell him, impatience and desire coloring your voice, not wanting to wait even a second longer. the information and its delivery can only make his erection twitch in reply.
that being said, he crawls towards you on the bed and aligns himself at your entrance. you mentally prepare yourself for the stretching sensation, but instead, izuku pauses, allowing merely the head of his shaft to just… nestle against your folds. a humiliating sound of frustration is ripped out from your throat.
"don't tease," you cry, reaching down to put it in yourself, only to have your hand intercepted by his firm grip.
“i’m waiting,” he says, voice infuriatingly steady.
“for what?” you demand, exasperated.
“an apology.”
“oh my god,” you groan. “i’m sorry...”
“thank you for the vague apology.” his eyes glint; he’s clearly enjoying this. your hips jerk involuntarily as izuku's slaps his tip against your pussy. “why don’t we get a bit more specific?”
you rack your hazy brain for what he wants, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of his swollen head rubbing against your clit. the faint red handprint on his cheek jogs your memory fast enough. “...i’m sorry for slapping you.”
“and?”
“and?!” you repeat back, incredulous at this drawn-out torture. “i-- i'm sorry for being mean to you." the for years hangs in the air, unsaid but heard.
he hums, unimpressed. “hm. not as good as i thought it’d be. you know, when most people apologize, they usually mention what they’ll do better.” his tone is calm, deliberate, and not like he's fighting back the urge to shove his dick inside you. “so. what are you going to do to be better from now on?”
“be nice?”
“be good,” he corrects. “keep your hands to yourself.... talk to me like you do everyone else… say it."
“i’ll be good,” you whine, hands gripping his bedsheets in restraint, as you hope he can see how genuine you are (or at least trying to be).
it feels like forever goes by before he finally sinks himself into you, your own gasp catching you off guard as he does. he can’t help but moan shamelessly at the warmth coating his dick.
“fuck…” he drags out, hands gripping your hips tightly to ground himself, “this alone might make all of it worth it.”
every thrust is delicious, the slapping of his heavy balls against your ass a close contender in what you focus on, second only to the way the pulse of his dick feels inside your walls. you wrap your hands around his neck for support, unable to stop your whimpers and gasps.
as his cockhead gets caught on that spongy part inside, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist in an effort to get him to hit that spot again.
“r-right there?” izuku’s voice cracks as he swallows the gathering saliva in his mouth, sweat dripping down his forehead. for a moment, the careful composure he’d grown into slips, revealing the awkward, disheveled version of himself you were familiar with.
you frantically nod — yeah — hand reaching down between your sweaty bodies to rub at your clit as you feel yourself coming close to the edge. based off his sputtering pace, you assumed he was as well.
“can i? inside?” was all he could rasp out, not having the patience to form an actual sentence in a time as urgent as this.
“please,” you beg, barely a whisper, and it’s what undoes him. his hands find his way to your jaw, cupping your face as he kisses you once more, burying himself deep as he cums. you find yourself following him right after, the contractions of your walls making him hiss sharply against your mouth as he was now much too sensitive.
he collapses right next to you and the two of you lie there in each other’s embrace for a while, absolutely spent, bare chests rising and falling against each other. izuku brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes half-lidded, unfocused — a mindless sort of gaze that drifts somewhere past you. eventually, he slips himself out of you, milky liquid dripping down your thigh when he does. you watch as he slides off the bed, crosses to his desk, and picks up his phone. before you can even register, he snaps a picture of your exposed state.
“what are you— ” you start, but he lifts a finger, wordlessly asking for patience. for some reason — maybe exhaustion — you don’t argue. a minute or two passes, before he finally turns the phone screen towards you.
kacchan (new phone)
me: [sent one image] (sent at 15:37)
me: sunday? (sent at 15:37) ✓ ✓
kacchan: k (sent at 15:39)
Synopsis: When you’re invited to a pool party with your sexy, famous hero boyfriend, you’re more than happy to wear your usual oversized T-shirt and shorts combo. But when your man notices how much you appear to be a fish out of water surrounded by all of the bikinis, he is more than happy to ease those insecurities and show you how sexy you are…no matter who sees.
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Established Relationship; Aged Up!Deku (Early 20s-30s); Reader Is Chubby/Plus-Sized; Body Insecurity; Deku Is A Great BF; Sneaky Sex; Bathroom Sex; Dom!Deku x sub!Reader; Spanking; Mild Oral (Giving & Receiving); Doggy Over The Sink; Public Sex; Daddy Kink; Deku Is A FREAK; Dick Piercing/Nipple Piercings; Mutual O; Creampie; Aftercare; Getting Caught (tee hee!); Possible Foursome?
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: Happy 4th of July to all who celebrate!! 🥰🧨 I felt like writing some nasty shit about my favorite broccoli boi after seeing that art of him. Credits to this sexy ass fanart all go to soeduh_ on Twitter! Please follow them HERE! Enjoy & remember: ALL BODIES ARE SUMMER BODIES. GO PUT ON THAT BIKINI NOW. -Jazz
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"Baby!" your boyfriend calls from outside the bathroom door. "You still in there? We have to leave in, like, ten minutes!"
You turn away from your reflexion in the full length bathroom mirror, your heart thumping in fear that your man will open the door. "U-Uh, okay, babe!" you stammer. "Hold up! Just a minute!"
You turn back to look at the full-figured woman standing before you wearing the string bikini that for some reason you were so tempted to buy from the mall. It is a bright sunshine yellow with a thong bikini bottom that certainly does make your plump ass look immaculate.
But the other stuff? They don't make you feel the least bit immaculate. Or sexy or hot or whatever else your boyfriend always calls you.
As you zero in on each part of your body, you're hyperaware of each flaw, like the way your titties sag slightly in your bikini cups. Or how prominent your cellulite looks on your thighs. Or how your tummy protrudes under the strings of your bikini bottom, all rolls and love handles.
You raise your chubby arms, frowning at the hanging flesh there, and then poke your stomach. All soft flesh. You feel so...exposed. Though you're aware every girl at Bakugou and Mina's pool party will probably be wearing the same thing, you feel like you can't.
You bought this bikini specifically for this pool party a week ago and thought you looked good in it beforehand, but as you stare at yourself in the full-length mirror now, all you can think about is ripping it off and returning it (because you kept the receipt).
What were you thinking? And what was Izuku, your sexy, hot pro hero boyfriend with abs and a firm ass to die for thinking calling you hot in this?!
"I can't wear this," you whisper to yourself. But as you begin to reach back to untie the bikini top, feeling uncomfortable and itchy in it, you're interrupted again.
Knock, knock, knock!
"Baby, we're down to five!" Izuku hollers. "Is everything alright?" He sounds worried which isn't good. Quickly, you run the sink water on high. "Y-Yeah!" you stammer. "Sorry, I just spilled water on the floor. I'll meet you outside."
Your heart thumps wildly, hoping he won't come in and see you trying to take your bathing suit off. You know he'll protest, your sweet, supportive Izuku. You still wonder how you managed to bag a guy like him.
"Well...okay," he reluctantly replies. "I'll pack the sunscreen for you and get the AC runnin'!"
When he finally leaves, you sigh in relief. You don't want your boyfriend coming in and seeing you crash out over a bathing suit. You look at the shirt and denim cut-offs sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Your saving grace.
When you pull on the oversized shirt and shorts over your bikini, though it allows you the coverage and hiding you crave, you also feel...weird. Trapped. Unconfident. You hate how you feel.
But you don't have time to wonder why with the clock winding down. Quickly, you grab your pool bag and flip flops before hurrying to meet your boyfriend in the driveway.
Izuku is leaning against his dark green sports car when you show up outside. He looks like a damn catalogue model standing there in the bright sun, his Raybans on his eyes and only wearing his trunks and a tight white tank top. Your lick your lips at the light dusting of freckles across his broad shoulders and chest, his muscles so prominent and yummy.
"Ready!" you announce, plastering on a big, fat smile. He smiles at the sight of you...but then that smile quickly fades. He looks put off at the sight of you. "What's up?" you ask.
Those emerald eyes still look confused as they roam over your outfit. "Uh...nothing!" he chirps, plastering on a fake smile. "It's just...didn't you have a bathing suit you bought that you wanted to wear?"
You are one step ahead of him, having already cooked up a story as to why you didn't wear it so he won't worry about you. "Oh, I got juice on it, so it's in the washer machine," you quickly lie. "So I threw this on. Don't worry, this fits me better anyway!"
Izuku still looks pretty concerned and unswayed by your chipper attitude though. He knows you way too well. But you figured as his girlfriend for five years and roommate, he would know you like the pages of his favorite book.
Izuku has always treated you as the beautiful, sexy woman you want to be seen as. Despite your different body shapes obvious size difference (funny enough, Izuku is TALLER than you!), and the fact that he could always go for a smaller, more famous woman, the #1 pro hero still holds you up on a pedestal.
And so you try to hide this from him in the hopes to not worry or hurt him. "I'm fine, babe," you coo, placing a hand on his arm. "Now c'mon before Bakugou blows up your phone for being late...and you know he'll LITERALLY blow it up."
Despite Izuku's obvious concern, he still gets in the driver's seat while you crawl into the passenger's side and skids off from your shared condo for your mutual friends' party.
As you suspected, Bakugou and Mina went all out for this party: the outside of their mansion is decorated in inflatable beach balls, fake tiki torches, and paper lanterns while colorful animal floaties, pool noodles, and water guns surround the mammoth-sized pool filled with people. There are tables filled with booze, Jell-O shots, and BBQ thanks to Bakugou's cooking skills.
Everywhere you look, you see guests dressed in their best swimwear...and girls in all kinds of bathing suits. All of them sexy. All of them exposing skin. You already feel like a zebra in a herd of a gazelles. Despite Izuku's firm hand in yours, you feel so unconfident and already want to go home.
Luckily, one of the hosts greets you before you can. Bakugou has on his best orange trunks while the rest of him is shirtless, tattoos and muscles on full display. You may have had some dreams involving him and Izuku together with you a few times.
"There you extras are," he huffs, smirking at you and Izuku, the sweetheart pair. Then he wrinkles his nose at you. "You lose your bathing suit or somethin', squirt?"
Squirt-the stupid nickname he calls you because of your height. "It's underneath, Bakugou," you sarcastically reply, "but thank you for your concern." You think you see Bakugou shoot Izuku a confused glance, but you ignore it.
Then Mina comes bounding over in a zebra-print bikini, looking absolutely fabulous in it. Her legs and stomach are toned from years of training. Her perky breasts jiggle enticingly. And her ass? You could bounce a whole bank off of it!
"Eeee, you're here!" she squeals, squeezing you and Izuku both to her in a tight embrace. You can smell the tequila off of her, mixing in with the scent of mango shampoo in her pink curls. "Come on, we've got BBQ and plenty of alcohol. You two want some shots?"
She drags you and Izuku over to the tables with Bakugou, her grumpy yet hot boyfriend, trailing after you, yelling at you to not take all of the twisted teas.
Once you take a Jell-O shot with Izuku, you both hooking your elbows together to drink in unison, you fill your red cup up with some of Mina's concoction: fruit punch spiked with vodka and topped with an umbrella. The alcohol helps to ease your anxiety, pushing it deep down enough for you to act like you're enjoying yourself.
As you begin to socialize with people, you become increasingly aware of how "out of bounds" you are even more. Conversing with Mina and the group from UA becomes difficult once you notice how good all the girls look in their bikinis.
And of course, they notice that you didn't go with the pool party attire.
"Kero, you didn't wear a bathing suit, Y/N?" Tsuyu curiously asks in her frog-green bikini. You simmer in the sun with everyone's eyes on you. "O-Oh, it's underneath," you nervously giggle.
"You must be hot in that though!" Kiri protests, looking so funny with the white streak of sunscreen on his nose. "This sun is blazing! Sweating is real manly, but jeez!"
You give him a tight-lipped smile, sweating out of awkwardness...and because of the sun. You don't dare raise your arms. "I just wore this because I burn easily."
"That's a good idea," Momo agrees, looking damn near like a Victoria's Secret model in her red bathing suit that outlines her perfect, slender body. "I tend to burn easily too, but Jirou insisted I just apply more sunscreen."
Jirou tuts in her purple bikini, an arm wrapped around Momo's slender waist. Uraraka giggles to herself, looking so cute in her pink bikini with white flowers posted on each of her bikini cups. She suddenly gasps, pointing. "Oh, look! Pool animals!"
You and the girls turn excitedly, gaping at the inflatable zebras, giraffes, hippos, and frogs being tossed in the pool by Denki and Sero. Mina, drunk as hell, tries to hurry over, but Bakugou snatches her back by her bikini bottoms.
"Hold up, Pinkie," he growls. "You need more sunscreen on ya. Can't have you lookin' like a damn shrimp." You watch as he squirts some sunscreen on his hands and rubs it up and down her toned back, hips, and ass, making her jiggle when he gives her a playful smack on the behind.
"Thank you, baby," she giggles, kissing him on the cheek. "Now come swim with me!" She takes his hand and drags him off with the others, leaving you to watch in envy. You tug at the collar of your shirt, hot and sweaty, the blue water looking extra appetizing.
'Just take off the damn shirt!' your inner voice screams at you. 'Who cares about how you look? It's a pool party!'
Luckily, Izuku comes to your rescue before you can succumb to your inner thoughts. He is a little tipsy judging by his squinty, green eyes and flushed cheeks. Probably too many Jell-O shots. He looks so cute when he's drunk.
"Hey, you," he coos, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you. "You're not gettin' in the pool?" You cross your arms over your chest, soothing yourself. "I will," you reply. "I just ate though. It's not good to swim when you just ate."
It's a shit lie and Izuku knows it. You only ate a piece of BBQ chicken and a salad...and that was an hour ago! He suddenly leans in, placing a hand on the small of your back. "Can we talk for a minute?" he whispers. Oh, boy. You can already tell this is about something serious.
You know you can't escape this, so you let Izuku lead you away from the party and in the mansion for one of the many bathrooms. This one is located in the back of the house, away from the party that turns to muffled noises once Izuku gets you alone.
He first checks to make sure you're alone before he shuts the door. You swallow, feeling uncomfortably big like Alice in a too-small room. "What's up?" you ask, doing your best to seem as innocent as possible.
Your boyfriend turns to you, a crease between his brows. He looks so worried. So conflicted. You immediately feel like shit. "I didn't wanna say anything and ruin the party for you, but Kaachan practically forced me to do this. I can't help but feel like you wore this for a reason and you're not telling me why."
Your stomach plummets as reality hits you. You knew that this would happen. That he would find out about you and your secrets.
He comes towards you, his emerald eyes etched in worry and gentleness. "Why didn't you wear your bikini?" he gently asks. "Did you really spill juice on it?"
You feel your body tremble in fear. Fear about the truth. "No," you defeatedly confess. "I do have it on under my shirt, but I..." You stare down at your white-painted toes, swallowing the lump growing in your throat.
Izuku presses his fingers under your chin, tilting your face back up to meet his forest-green irises. "But what, doll?" he gently encourages. "Talk to me."
The lump grows bigger and you can feel tears stinging in your eyes, threatening to ruin the makeup you applied with your waterproof mascara and face mist. You hope that the waterproof applies to tears too. "I didn't think I looked good in it," you whimper.
Izuku gapes at you, shocked. "What?!" he exclaims. "Baby, are you kidding?! That bikini was made for you! You looked amazing in it!"
You roll your eyes, once again adverting your gaze from his shocked expression. "You're just saying that 'cause you're my boyfriend," you mutter.
You try to turn away, but Izuku holds you firmly by your arms, keeping you still. His eyes are serious and intense, enflamed with a passionate fire that you've only seen a handful of times. Izuku is usually very laidback and non-confrontational...but not today. You've pushed him.
"No, I'm not," he firmly says. "You looked fucking hot, Y/N. When you sent me that photo at work the first time you tried it on, it took everything in me to not race and put you in our mattress."
Your body grows hot from his dirty confession. It isn't like your boyfriend isn't sexual from time to time, but you don't think he's ever been this blatantly freaky before. "R-Really?" you stammer.
"Really," he answers, stroking your chubby cheek with his calloused, scarred hand. "You're perfect, doll, and I need to you to know that. Bikinis are made for ALL bodies, including yours, and you shouldn't feel insecure about the way you're made."
The saddened, embarrassed tears in your eyes turn to ones of happiness. You giggle, pressing your hands against Izuku's hard planes of pecs, the two studs of his nipple piercings rubbing against your thumbs. "Well, maybe not if I'm with a guy as hot as you," you bashfully agree.
Izuku's other hand moves to cup your ass in your cut-offs, making your pussy throb. "Yeah?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then why don't you take that off and show me that bikini underneath?"
"Right here?" you giggle. The sound of the party sounds louder now despite you being nowhere near it. Izuku's hooded, lustful gaze pulls you in, making you want to do everything he wants. "Right here. I locked the door, so no one's comin' in."
That gives you some relief...and arouses you so much that you fear that your thong is a pool now. Especially when Izuku starts using those plush lips on yours, giving you a slow, sensual kiss like he knows you enjoy. He just knows what makes you sticky for him.
So you unbutton and unzip your shorts before sliding them down your thick, plushy thighs, slinking out of them. Izuku's eyes flicker down to your bikini bottoms, a dark shade of lust coating them as his eyes roam over your cellulite and stretch marks. "Baby," he murmurs. "You're perfect."
Then you peel off your shirt and toss it aside, leaving your juicy breasts exposed in your yellow bikini top. Standing before your man and the growing tent in his trunks, you realize just how wrong you were: you are sexy.
"Turn around," he demands. His tone is low and firm, exciting you. You do as he says and brace your hands on the sink as he comes up behind you. His hands begin to roam over your body, drinking in your rolls and plushy stomach.
You softly gasp as you feel his hard-on pressing into your backside, insistent and all yours. All yours. "Baby," you whimper. "We shouldn't-"
"Nah," Izuku interrupts, already moving to strip his top off of his head. "Don't say that. I need to show you." You feel his warm skin and toned body press into you from behind, exciting you further. "Need to show you how perfect you are."
His calloused hands begin to toy with your titties, cupping each one in his palms and massaging them. You moan, tilting your head back into his shoulder as each thumb and forefinger on his hands pinch and tweak your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your bikini cups. "Fuck," you whisper, biting your lip from the immense pleasure.
Izuku softly chortles in your ear, gently suckling on your earlobe as his lips travel down your neck. It doesn't take long for your core to grow hot with arousal, your pussy growing stickier and wetter with every ministration.
He then twists you around to face him and peels the thin cups away to expose your titties to him. His eyes widen an inch, blown with lust and astonishment. "God," he softly groans. "You're so fucking gorgeous."
One of the things that never fails to make you hot and sticky is Izuku's dirty ass mouth. He never cusses in public, even when the cameras aren't around, but in private? The man swears like a sailor, especially when he's deep in your pussy.
He latches his lips onto one of your hardened peaks, gently sucking and nibbling on it as he massages the other. You bite back a loud moan, arching your back and pushing your chest farther into his wet tongue. "Izu," you moan. "W-We really should get back to the party."
"Fuck the party," he growls against your tits. "All my entertainment is right here."
He pulls away, leaving your nipples wet with his spit, and stands a good arm's length from you, teasing you. With mirth in his forest-green eyes, he pulls at the ties holding his shorts up and takes them down, revealing the pale skin of his thighs untouched by the sun and his cock.
His beautiful, hard, throbbing, veiny cock swinging between his thighs sinewy with hair as green as the top of his head. The pink head drips with pre-cum and shines with a metal ball piercing at the tip, desperate to be licked.
You gape at his dick and his impressive body, your fingers itching to indulge in his muscles and the silky, velvety skin of his shaft.
"Yours too," he says, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Don't you want your boyfriend too, baby doll?"
He takes your hands and presses them against his abs, drawing them down to his cock. He bites his lip as your chubbier fingers toy with his shaft, a soft, lewd groan leaving his lips.
The way heat and wetness pools between your thighs screams yes to you. Your entire body reacts to his touch, voice, and the sight of his body, all of you ready to take all of him.
And minutes later, with your pussy slick from his tongue and your arousal and his cock wet with your spit after spitting and sucking on it, you do take him. Deep and slow.
Izuku has you bent you over the sink and your bikini bottoms pulled to the side, his cock sliding in and out of your slick, tight, velvety-soft pussy, enchanted by the way your lips stretch around his length and girth as he pounds into you from behind.
Your mouth falls agape, wanton, loud moans dripping from your lips as your feel his dick piercing kiss that spot inside of you that makes you see stars.
Izuku presses his face into your hair, breathing in your shampoo as his hands grip your hips tight, keeping you locked against him. "You look so fuckin' good in this," he groans. "My baby is so pretty."
You feel him grip your chin, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. "Look at her," he demands. "Look at that sexy bitch getting fucked by her man. Don't you dare turn away."
You stare at the full-figured, plus-sized woman staring back at you in the mirror, her hair a fucked-out mess and her face screwed in pleasure, streaks of mascara on her cheeks and gloss all over her lips from feverish kissing.
With her bikini top hanging from her stomach, her cups peeled down, her juicy tits jiggle with each thrust that Izuku makes, her tummy and ass jiggling in tandem from the force of his fucking. Her thong is pulled to the side, allowing Izuku easier access to pound into her for a sneaky fuck.
You are exposed. All of you. And you are beautiful. You see exactly what Izuku sees now. "Izu!" you moan. "Fuck, go faster! Please!"
Your pro hero, with his handsome face flushed with arousal and from the activity, widens his eyes at you. Then he splits into a big grin. "Faster?" he chuckles. "Sure, babe, but you gotta keep it down. You'll have the whole party come lookin' for us."
He begins to pound into you faster, harder, one hand gripping your stomach while the other massages your ass, his fingers kneading the glorious, soft globes of pure goodness. "Or maybe you want that," he whispers. "Maybe you're so slutty that you want everybody else to know too."
SMACK!
You squeak as his hand comes down to smack your ass, hard and rough, the sound ricocheting across the bathroom walls. "Then everybody can see how good my baby looks gettin' fucked in her pretty bikini."
SMACK!
"Ah!" you gasp, feeling your pussy twitch around his cock. The sharp sting excites you even more, making your slick drip down your inner thighs that you can feel Isuzu's balls slap against with every thrust.
"Put your leg up," he growls. "I wanna make you cum for me right here. I wanna be deeper." You slowly bring your knee up on the sink, allowing him to sink deeper inside of you. He hides his loud moan into the crook of your neck, desperately pressing his lips into you to avoid screaming at the top of his lungs.
Your man is very local, whimpering, groaning, and grunting about how good your cunt feels tightly gripping him, forcing him to pump all of his inches inside of you. You have to clap your hand tight over your mouth to muffle your moans as he drills into you, making you bounce against his cock like a bunny rabbit.
It doesn't take long for you to feel your core tighten like a knot, your body hyper aroused by the cologne on Izuku's skin combined with his cock massaging your insides. "Oh, my God!" you desperately sob. "Shit, Daddy, I'm close!"
Izuku smugly smiles, reaching one hand down to rub your needy clit with his thick, calloused fingers. "Already?" he chuckles. "I am too. You feel too fuckin' good, baby."
Each dirty word that falls from the sweet, seemingly innocent pro's voice brings you closer to the edge. "If you wanna cum, I need you to do one favor for me." You desperately nod, needing so badly to cream all over his cock. "You ready, doll?" he asks.
"Uh-huh!" you desperately whine, squeezing your eyes shut tight from the pleasure. You need to concentrate in order not to cum before he says to, gripping the sink for dear life as your pussy gushes and squelches from his cock constantly stroking it.
Then his lips are at your ear, whispering you sweet nothings. "Say that you're beautiful," he growls in your ear. "Say that you're the prettiest fucking woman in the world. Say that you look good as fuck in this bikini and you'll never hide your body again."
He snatches your leg off of the sink and, as fast as the speed of light, has you fully bent over the sink, your face pushing down onto the sink. "Tell me that you love your boyfriend and his thick cock," he adds. "And that you know he adores you no matter what you look like."
That's a whole mouthful, you realize. And a lot of which is a little embarrassing to say aloud. You whimper as your boyfriend fucks your tight hole, bouncing your ass off of him in an attempt to get you there faster. "I-I-"
Your boyfriend tuts, slowing down his thrusts. "I can't hear you, darling," Izuku coos. "C'mon, say it nice and pretty for me. Open that mouth up, look in the mirror, and say it!"
He wraps a hand around your hair and pulls your face up to face the mirror, making you stare at your ruined makeup and lust-blown eyes. "I'm beautiful," you whimper. "I-I'm the prettiest...prettiest..."
SMACK!
You sob as his hand comes down to smack your ass again. "Say it!" your boyfriend bellows.
"I'm the prettiest woman in the world!" you sob. "I look good as fuck and I'll never hide my body again!"
Izuku hums in satisfaction, panting and huffing with pleasure. "Aaaand?" he urges.
You whimper with embarrassment, adverting your eyes from your own to stare at your boyfriend in the mirror pounding you from behind. "A-And I love my boyfriend and his thick cock," you add, your cheeks aflame. "And I know he adores me no matter what I look like."
And you believe it.
Izuku peppers your backside in kisses, overjoyed with your words. "Goooood girl!" he joyfully coos. "You did such a good job. Now you get your reward."
He then proceeds to grip your hips and pound into you like there is no tomorrow, making you clap a hand over your mouth to hide your loud moans and screams of pleasure. You're pretty sure he is using some of his quirk here to get you there much faster. You feel as if you are on a speeding rollercoaster taking you down a steep hill.
"You want your reward, doll?" he grunts. "Huh?! Do you want my fucking cum right here, right now?!" His voice is deeper than usual and rough; demanding. It turns you on so much that it's damn near alarming.
"Yes!" you sob. "Yes, yes, yes, Daddy, please!"
"You'd better cum with me then," he demands. "Cream my fuckin' cock, baby." He goes faster, harder, nailing that spot over and over again as he frantically rubs your clit. "Cum for me!" he begs. "Do it all over your man's cock, baby! Give it to me!"
You can't stop the rush of adrenline and bliss you feel as you feel your body seize from your intense orgasm. You sob into your hand as you cum all over Izuku's throbbing cock, trembling as he continues to fuck you through it.
Desperate, slutty grunts leave Izuku's lips as he chases his orgasm in your pussy, plowing you like he owns you until his entire body freezes. "Fuck!" he yells into your neck, his volume muffled as he fills your pussy to the brim with his spunk.
You gasp as you feel the warm rush of cum fill your insides, dripping down your thighs and soaking his balls. A delirious, fucked-out smile appears on your lips, making you giggle behind your hand. You feel so good. So free.
With a soft sigh, Izuku slowly pulls out of you, leaving his cum dripping more down your juicy thighs. His cock is wet with your cream, his green eyes lustful and hooded. "Look what you did," he lustfully says. "Now you've gotta clean it all up."
With a seductive hum, you slither to your knees and lick him up, sucking and slurping your mess off of his shaft. He weakly moans at the feeling of your soft tongue licking him up like you would an ice cream cone.
He then helps you stand on your legs that feel wobbly and soft like jell-O. "You're dripping down here too," he murmurs, admiring his cum drizzling down your soft inner thighs. "Can't have people out there talkin'."
He turns you around and lifts your leg over his shoulder, proceeding to gently lap his and your mixed cum up from your pussy. "Mmm," you softly moan, tossing your head back. You just love it when he gently sucks on your pussy lips, taking extra care to be gentle and soft.
Finally, when you're all cleaned up, you wrap each other up in a tight, naked embrace, the scent of sex and sunscreen in the air. You softly smile, feeling so good and alive in his arms. "Thank you, Daddy," you murmur against his chest.
Izuku presses his hand to the back of your scalp, stroking your hair. "Don't thank me. Just wear that bikini from now on, and don't ever feel weird about your body, okay?" You nod into his chest, your smile growing when he kisses the crown of your head.
Oh, how you love your boyfriend.
Finally, he pulls away and gives you a soft, adoring smile. He reaches down to pull his shorts up over his semi-hard cock still slick with your spit. "C'mon; we should head back before-"
BANG!
"Jesus!" Izuku shouts, immediately covering your body with his. You shriek in panic, covering yourself from the people standing in the doorway.
"What the fuck, Kaachan?!" he angrily yells, his eyes growing a bright, electric green. "Don't you knock?!"
Bakugou and Mina stand in the doorway to the bathroom, smiling at the sight before them. "We did," Bakugou deadpans. "About six times, but you were too busy cumming to hear us." He smugly smiles at you and Izuku, his eyes roaming over what he can see of your body behind your boyfriend.
"I told him to leave you two be, but he insisted," Mina sighs though her cheeks are pink.
Her boyfriend pinches her hip, making her squeal from the pain. "Don't front, you little liar. You wanted to see them fuck...seems like we were too late though."
The shade of bashful pink grows on Mina's face at being exposed for being a little voyeur slut. Bakugou comes into the bathroom with his girlfriend, shutting the door behind him. "I guess the talk went well?" he assumes.
Despite his bashfulness, Izuku nods and gives you a soft, adoring smile, still covering his body with yours as you fix your bikini so it's covering your naked pussy and tits.
Mina pouts adorably, covering her heart. "Awww, you guys are too cute!" she coos. "And you look so hot in that bikini, Y/N. I'm almost jealous of Midoriya." A spark of interest appears in her golden eyes as she looks at you.
Izuku softly laughs, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close, but moves enough to reveal your body to his interested friends. "Don't be, Mina," he chuckles. "Maybe next time, you and Kaachan can join."
Bakugou tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, his tongue toying with his lip piercing. He pulls Mina close to him, his fingers toying with her breasts right in front of you while she bites back a moan.
"Why wait?" he lustfully asks. "She might as well get some use out of that bikini, right, squirt?"
you feel like you’re brain dead, like you’ve been in this position for years…although it’s only been an hour. choso chuckles at your sluggish demeanor, pressing kisses to your face. “hi, baby. . .” he coos at you, kissing your plump lips. you moan out, and scratch slowly at his built back — the one he strains everyday to make sure you have something to hold on to when he has you comprised in this position.
“cmon, talk to me. .” he whispers into your ear, bringing a soft hand down to rub at your tender clit. “makin’ me sad here…” he chuckles, kissing your neck with fervor. “h-. .”you huff out before a moan bursts out your throat once again. “hi. . .” you whine, your hand traveling to the nape of his neck to play with his outgrown hair.
“thank you.” he murmurs, elongating his thrusts as he kisses along your body.
genshin sugar daddies: when they finally meet each other
you have seven sugar daddies: one for each day of the week. and although it can get overwhelming at times, you’ve done well to keep each and every relationship relatively separate, no matter how demanding of your attention they are. well, that all goes to shit when they’re all attending the same fucking party.
tw: nsfw, dark content
you’re fucked.
“is something wrong, dear?” ayato inquires. you do your best to put on your prettiest smile, smooth down your dress like nothing’s wrong, and squeeze his hand to reassure him that everything is a-okay.
“i’m fine. feeling a bit under the weather, is all.”
everything is not a-okay. underneath your jewel-encrusted gown you are trembling. kaeya shouldn’t even be here, you think. but there he is, chatting up some local politician that ayato had introduced you to earlier. it takes everything in you not to suggest leaving the gala when you had just arrived an hour ago.
ayato smiles, pressing a chaste kiss between your brows. “alright.”
home. just a couple weeks ago, ayato has begun to change his vocabulary. he says ‘ours’ instead of ‘my’ and ‘we’ instead of ‘me.’ every time you take off your new diamond-encrusted ring, he gives you a look you can’t stomach and glides it back onto your finger whenever he gets the chance. he’ll kiss you sweetly like nothing’s wrong but from the way his hand lingers on your ring finger says otherwise.
“i wish i could take you home right now,” ayato laments, taking your hand in his and slowly caressing the back of your knuckles like a lover would. “but you know how things are. publicity is half of the job.”
that’s why we entered this kind of relationship in the first place. you purse your lips. it was supposed to be contractual, nothing more.
ayato’s whispers of sweet-nothings into your ear contrasts your thoughts. he tells you how beautiful you look, how your cerulean gown matches his suit, about how he’ll take it off when you get back, all the while he’s navigating you through the crowds of people. his hand rests gently on the small of your back, as if it was his way of soothing you.
you’re fine, you tell yourself. there’s too many people here. kaeya won’t see you. you dread the idea of locking eyes with him, the dark scowl that’d spread on his lips, if you had the misfortune of seeing him again tonight. he might’ve known that you had other clients, but if he met them in person, you’re sure you’d never hear the end of it.
tws & tags ;; headcanons into short fic. nsfw mdni smut. cybersex. sex work. objectification. vibrators + self pleasure. nipple play. squirting.
GOONER! FANBOY! KENMA who has been watching your content since before you had one hundred followers.
FANBOY! KENMA who, despite being a massive streamer himself, lurks silently in your chat and enjoys your cute commentary and novice gameplay without saying a word. he knows that if he invited you to one of his own streams, your viewer count would likely increase exponentially, but he can't quite pluck up the courage to ask you. (and a part of him enjoys keeping you as his precious little secret gem)
FANBOY! KENMA tunes in to every single one of your lives. he'll drop whatever it is that he's doing to hear that dulcet voice, and see you awkwardly prattle on and charm your small audience with your eagerness to please.
FANBOY! KENMA whose heart would skip a beat when you notice him among your small pool of regular viewers, "hi, kudzuken! uh, i hope i'm saying that right. thanks for joining." you'd say into the camera accompanied by the most endearing smile. he'd then promptly donate $10 to your live-stream as a thank you for the jerk material.
FANBOY! KENMA is repulsed when he looks at your chat to see it overrun by trolls, spammers and perverts due to your lack of a moderation team. a bunch of weirdos online sending inappropriate comments on your body and seemingly innocuous statements that somehow read as creepy. ('love ur smile, babygirl..' 'keep sitting just like that!!!') and kenma can't helped but be disgusted, and partially because he knows he's just as perverted as these other internet trolls. his stare is also often stuck to your tits in those low-cut tops, or the inviting glossiness of your cute lips. he could get lost in those sweet innocent eyes for hours, imagining giving you a tight hug and feeling those soft tits pressed against his chest — just the thought alone was enough to cause a tent in his pants. but at least he had the decency not to type out all those lewd fantasies and post them to a public domain. that had to count for something, right?
FANBOY! KENMA who is disappointed but not surprised when you quit your online gamer gig to pursue a different type of live-streaming. your views were never great and hardly improving, and any subscribers you did have made it exceedingly clear they were only watching for your pretty face or hot body. so kenma couldn't blame you for trying to capitalise on your strengths and explore a career path you may be more suited for — in fact, it was a smart business move.
FANBOY! KENMA who was distraught, but still not surprised, when your camgirl account took off immediately and you gained over ten thousand subs in less than a week of creation, and the numbers were only growing steadily from there. every time he checked and saw your subscriber count had gone up, a small piece of him died. he realised it was parasocial and fucked up to be so upset by you, a content creator, receiving the attention of others, but truthfully, he missed when you were just his little secret.
FANBOY! KENMA figures that even though you were popular now, at least you were doing something that was (shamefully) far more appealing to him. he wasn't able to sleep for days before your first scheduled livestream in your new niche. no matter how hard he tried or how many melotonin gummies he ate, he just couldn't. he was too excited. and rightfully so.
FANBOY! KENMA who almost passes out twenty mintues into the stream. he was, of course, one of the first people to join, and the five or so minutes where you just sat there fully clothed and idled while saying, "i'm just gonna wait for some more people to join before i start.." was about the longest five minutes of his entire life. but the pay-off was worth it. he was hard and stroking it before the show even began, and had his first orgasm when you took your bra off to reveal your pebbled nipples. (but he's proud he lasted that long because he was about to nut as soon as you took your top off). his second and third orgasm came when you started fingering yourself on your gaming chair. he feels blessed to be able to behold your sopping pussy that he's been dying to see for who-knows long. it was more gorgeous than he could've ever imagined. in fact, every single part of your delicious body exceeded his expectations — and trust, his expectations were not low. you were nothing short of a idol in his eyes; a beautiful, cock-riding idol.
FANBOY! KENMA who, regardless of how famous you were, will always be your number one fan. he blabbers to himself about how sexy you are as he cums, he watches all your videos and live-streams and donates crazy amounts of money just to see that vibrator stuffed in your snug pussy go that little bit faster.
FANBOY! KENMA who is an og and can always tell when you are fabricating or 'faking' your reactions. he can identify easily when your clit isn't actually as 'sensitive' as you make it out to be for the camera and he most definitely knows when you fake an orgasm. but he can't really blame you. you've been fingering that desperate little pussy for ages chasing your high but you can't quite reach it and your subs are getting restless, so you just need to cave and give them what they want to see. it's business, and kenma gets that. but he swears to himself that one day you won't need to rely on your weak fingers or some shitty dildo, because he'll make you finish so good and so hard around his own cock.
FANBOY! KENMA that will subscribe and pay for whatever vapid, cashgrab content you release. low-quality nudey pics taken in your bathroom mirror? sold for $20. a blurry photo of you dressed as a slutty bunny on halloween? sold for $40. an upskirt you took when you couldn't afford an uber home from a bar? sold for $60. pair of used panties? sold for $100. jar of your bathwater? sold for $400.
FANBOY! KENMA that will always request private shows with you. his income fluctuates depending on how well his stocks perform or the current trends that denote the viewship on his own gaming livesteams. but regardless, he will ensure to put a pretty penny aside so he can offer a deposit for a private show. during which, if you accept, he'll refuse to show his face. he doesn't want you to recognise him as a semi-famous gamer and put a face to his simp account. he won't give you his real name either but it's okay, he gets hard just hearing you coo his username.. ':)
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
"kudzuken.." you tilt your head as you read the familiar username, "did i say that right?" you giggle awkwardly, afraid you may have butchered the name of your private stream donator — who offered $500 just for this twenty minute show.
kudzuken: yes
he replies in chat, and you smile. "perfect." you murmur, pushing yourself away from your desk and hopping out of your chair so you could show off your whole outfit (or lack thereof) for the camera. "i'm a bunny! hmm— wait, what noise do rabbits make?" you do a little spin, and kenma, on the other side of screen somewhere, was sitting utterly stunned. your 'costume' consisted of a furry grey bikini top, some floppy bunny ears on your head and to complete the look, a cute little pompon rabbit tail. and kenma quickly noted that you weren't wearing any panties, so it was almost a mystery how this tail accessory stayed put over your perky ass.
"i decided to dress as one because you said in my comments once that you liked the pic of me in my bunny costume for halloween." you mused, clasping your hands together as you sat back down in your oversized gaming chair. "so, i thought you'd appreciate this."
kudzuken: i do
you actually read his comments and pay attention to them? was this real life or was he having some kind of hyper-realistic wet dream?
you looked like a fantasy, all cute and exposed for him on his monitor — and just for him. your pussy on full display for him. idly fondling your own tits and palming at your cunt lewdly as a performance dedicated to him. albeit, you do show it to other men as well, but not right now. currently, it was only the two of you, and he felt connected to your bare body on a sexual and interpersonal level. the way your eyes bore into his through the monitor and your glistening cunt basically screamed his name. but he craved more. hence, he stroked his free erection while typing out his messages with his other hand.
kudzuken: take the top off
you pout at message, still teasing him by pushing your boobs together as you purr, "you know the rules, silly~ it's an extra fifty for any clothing remo--." and within an instant of the words exiting your mouth, your donation chime went off.
kudzuken donated $100 with the message: get rid of the tail too
you smile appreciatively at the money, and hum, "thank you.. but i thought the tail was quite cute." you giggle, making a playful jab at his eagerness to rid you of your little pompom tail which you thought completed your costume. little did you know, kenma loved the tail too, but he was even more desperate to see how you kept it on.
as promised, you unclasp your bra and make a show out of the release of your tits: pinching your nipples and rubbing them for the camera. you'd even feign a couple of light moans just for him — although, kenma could always tell when you were acting, but he appreciated the effort.
next was the tail. turned over and with your chest pressed against the back of your chair, you spread your ass to reveal the plug that jammed nicely inside your puckered hole, attached to a small rod that held the fuzzy tail. kenma was in awe as he watched you fidget with the plug cautiously, stifling moans in response even the slightest movement.
kenma was in awe, his grasp on his cock subconciously tightening as he increased his pace. he bit his lip from admiration at how sensitive you were in that little hole of yours, and how shy you were too. he noted how you'd face away from the camera or hide your expressions with your spare whenever the stimulation from the toy would elicit any reaction from you.
kudzuken: don't be coy. pull harder.
you sighed. hesitantly wrapping your fingers around the fuzzy part of the tail and inhaling a deep breath, before harshly tugging on the plug. it wasn't quite like ripping off a plaster. no, you had to pull for a bit and feel your ass contort and stretch around the foreign metal as it tried to escape the confines of your restrictive walls. groaning the entire time, body going limp against your chair. "ahh— i didn't think.. ngh.. it would be so— hah— hard!"
eventually, after a concerningly laborious process, you manage to yank it out. leaving it a cute little temporary gape that kenma would pay anything to fill with his tongue. but alas, he's hundreds of miles away and the best he can do is fist his aching dick while you shallowly finger your hole for the camera.
"i've been filming since super early this morning, kudzuken." you sigh, his username feeling a bit strange to utter in casual conversation, but you roll with it away. your fingers slowly graze your exposed ass and pussy lips as you drone, " 'm so tired now. just wanna cum n' relax. think we can do that together?"
kudzuken: yeah
"yay." you hum lowly, lazily shifting so you are sat normally, except you then sling your legs over the arms of your gaming chair, so your entire soaked pussy is on display for him. you rub sloppy circles over your clit while glancing between your cunt and the camera. "my hands are soo tired though," you whine, relaxing your head back, "mind if i grab something to use?"
kudzuken: don't mind
you could shove a lava lamp up your pussy for all he cares, he just wants to watch you cum. perhaps a very selfish an hedonistic view, but his tip is in agony and he just needs to see you writhing in pleasure before he nuts. otherwise, it's physically impossible for him to climax; it's almost a curse.
during the time his eyes were screwed shut and he was begging his body for just an ounce of relief, you had rummaged in your draw and found both your juul and your favourite vibrator. one went straight into your pussy and the other went straight to your lips.
you put it on the medium setting, so the little pink thing wasn't exactly tearing up your insides, but it still brought you an immense amount of satisfaction. like scratching a severe itch that had been persistent all day. it finally felt like you were being taken care of and you could relax.
"mm, that feels so good.." you purr, eyes closed and enitrely absorbed in the moment. hand wandering down your bare body and spreading your folds so kenma could get a perfect view of your favourite toy stuffed into your tight cunt. he could even faintly hear the buzzing noise. "hmm, this is the best way to de-stress after a long day, huh?"
although a part of him wondered what you could possibly be 'de-stressing' from considering you were a camgirl and you probably did stuff like this all day, the majority of him was so deeply involved in the moment that he didn't even have the mental energy to concern himself with his pedantic worries. instead, he drifted off into a fantasy of his own, imagining those slender fingers pumping his cock were yours.
kudzuken: the best
despite the brevity of his messages, you don't take offence. in fact, it suggests you're doing a good job if he's left with only one hand to type with. so you continue, legs spread wide as you gaze longingly into your computer webcam. your fingers rub sloppy circles over your throbbing clit, but for the most part, the pink toy was doing the heavy-lifting and was the reason your face would scrunch with pleasure every so often.
"nghh, feel so good.. want more.." you whine into the emptiness of your room, your eyes drifting shut and allowing your mouth to freely babble whatever cries appeared in your lust-glazed mind. "wish it was something bigger.." you muse innocently, knowing exactly what you do to him.
kudzuken: me too
and the most shameful part is that kenma knows your being flippant and trying to appeal to his perverted desires, but he doesn't care. it just eggs him on further to imagine his cock in the place of that humble little toy — jammed right into your snug cunt, where he belongs. whatever it was: your pussy, your hands, your mouth, he just wanted to feel you somehow.
"mmph, it's so nice to finally let go.." you say as a breathy whisper, eyes entirely shut as the corners of your lips curl into a faint smile, "can you tell how much i've been needing this?"
his eyes twinkled as he watched your pretty hole suck on the head of the toy as it vibrates within you. your walls were twitching yet you looked stunningly relaxed, limbs all spread out across your chair, as your body practically melts into it. your mouth hung open just a little bit to show a tantilising peek of your tongue. what kenma wouldn't give to insert his cock in there too.
his fingers stiffened around his dick at the mere thought, and before long, he had undergone his first climax, making a mess of both his hand and his black sweatpants. but thanks to you, he's got plenty of practise at this and has built up the stamina to go for multiple rounds. it didn't take long of watching your pussy flutter around the vibrating toy and hearing your melodious moans before he was fully hard again, stroking his length.
"mm, i think.." you murmur, legs beginning to twitch and shudder slightly, as you feel the pool of liquid heat in the pit of your stomach begin to stir and bubble. what was supposed to be a relaxing and tranquil experience, was quickling boiling into something far more intense. "i think i'm getting close.."
kenma's eyes light up at the thought, and his hand instinctually speeds up. originally laid back against his chair, upon hearing your desperate mewls about an impending orgasm, he hastily leans forward, engrossed in the screen afore him. paying attention to every little detail: the way your spread legs shake, your pouty and lewd expression, your drenched pussy and the slick gathering by your enterance around the toy, and how it dripped down to ass and formed a small puddle on the seat of your chair.
strands of your hair would fall into your face and poke at the corners of your agape mouth, which you would then have to swiftly brush aside before returning your hands to rub frantic circles on your clit. "ah, ahh— 'm so so close, boutta finish. can i? can i cum? please—" you plea to the camera.
kudzuken: yes
kudzuken: cum pretty girl
it's as though his fingers acted on reflex, effortlessly typing the response in less than a couple seconds, all while his other hand still vigorously pumped his cock.
"nngh, okay, thank you, sir.. i— fuck!" you squeal , feeling light-headed as your orgasm overcomes you much earlier than you anticipated. you toss your head back in pure bliss as your knees tremble and you rock your hips against nothing, searching for more stimulation from the stagnant toy. despite it going at the same pace that previously relaxed you, the vibrator now felt like it was ravaging your sensitive insides, and all you could do was lie there and take it while your cunt walls convulse in defence.
"ahh— shit, i think— oh my god.." you cry, a second heat erupting within you shortly after you reached your high, as demonstrated by the fury of fluid that all came gushing out of you, with such a violent force that your vibrating toy was pushed out. "fuck's sake! nghh, 'ts too much! i can't, i can't!"
kudzuken: please
you scream and writhe in your chair as this powerful climax overwhelms your poor tired body, and all kenma can do is sit and gaze up at his monitor in awe. he is so astounded that he forgets to keep rubbing himself but the sight of your perfect pussy squiriting all over your chair and desk was enough to make him cum as well, and he released his second load across his clothed thighs again.
a lot of his semen dripped right back down his own shaft but he didn't care; if anything, it helped and served as lubrication. anyway, he was far to immersed in watching you submit to a blinding euphoria to care about the disgusting mess he was making of himself.
once you were done and your pussy has squirted out every last drop of sparkling fluid, you were left breathless and absolutely soaking. your wide-eyes gaze darted across your wet chair to your damp computer screen. you weren't looking forward to cleaning it all up, but alas, you sigh and relax back into your chair, "that was— so good. thank you, kudzuken." you heave, cute tits rising and falling with each deep exhale, "nothing feels better than cumming after a rough day.. it's like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, don't you think?"
you were seeing stars and babbling nonesense, but kenma was amused by it.
kudzuken: thank you too
you smile weakly at the chat reply, "anytime." you hum, slowly sitting up and crossing your arms over your chest, "erm, anyway, i should probably start cleaning up and head to bed. 'm so tired, it's been such a long day. but this was fun, we should do it again sometime."
kudzuken: yes
"well you know where to find me." you titter, reaching forward to your mouse and keyboard so you can end the private live-stream, "bye. have a nice night."
kudzuken: bye (y/n)
was the last thing he was able to type before he was disconnected from the chat. and that was certainly not the last time you spoke. it was an expensive habit, but he'd keep paying to watch you cum before bed almost every night for two months straight.
the summer air clung to your skin like syrup, thick and slow and heavy with every breath you took. the kind of heat that made the world feel lazy, like god had pressed pause on the whole town.
you sat on the hood of bokuto’s pickup, legs stretched out, the chipped paint warm under your thighs.
fireflies winked lazily across the fields, the low hum of country song drifting from the old radio he’d jerry-rigged into the dash. staticy and soft, but the words still clung to you.
“somewhere where the summer lasts all year ‘round…”
bokuto sat beside you, one leg propped up on the bumper, one foot dangling, a coke bottle sweating in his hand.
he turned his head, grinning at you under the brim of his backward baseball cap, that wild sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.
“you ever think about just… stayin’?” he asked, voice low and almost shy.
you laughed, soft, but not unkind, and nudged his shoulder with yours.
“bo, we been over this,” you said, smiling like it didn’t split your heart in half. “i’m goin’ north. gonna be somethin’ big, remember?”
he nodded, pretending it didn’t hurt.
pretending he wasn’t already mourning you before you’d even gone.
“could be big right here,” he said, tapping the side of the truck. “go to UT with me. bright orange looks good on you, darlin’.”
you rolled your eyes, tugging the brim of his cap down over his face until he huffed a laugh. “i wanna see the ocean,” you said. “wanna see buildings so tall they scrape the sky. wanna be somebody.”
bokuto caught your hand before you could pull away. held it against his chest, over the steady thud of his heart.
“you already are somebody,” he murmured. “you’re my whole world.”
your throat tightened, but you didn’t say anything.
because what could you say?
you were seventeen.
he was a boy with dirt on his boots and dreams he hadn’t learned how to say out loud yet.
and you — you wanted the world.
…
the summer blurred in snapshots after that. stolen moments, stitched together with laughter and firefly light.
bokuto sneaking up to your side window after your parents had gone to bed, throwing rocks at the glass until you cracked it open and hissed at him to hush.
him boosting himself through the frame, landing in your room with a crash, both of you muffling your laughter with your hands.
slow dances in the middle of gravel roads, headlights casting long shadows behind you. his hands, rough and careful, learning you like you were the only map he’d ever need.
you lost your virginity to him on the tailgate of his truck, hidden in a clearing down by the river. slow, tender, too full of feeling to ever be casual.
you wore his flannel after, nothing underneath, skin sticky with the heat and the ache of something beautiful. he kissed your forehead after, like he was making a promise neither of you could keep.
the drive-in movies every friday night, popcorn spilled in the cab, your legs tangled over his lap, the movies forgotten in favor of whispered jokes and kisses that tasted like coke and southern comfort.
late nights swimming in the river, him scooping you up bridal style and running straight into the water, both of you shrieking and gasping at the cold, clutching at each other under the stars.
and every now and then, your daddy’s voice would cut through it all.
“that boy’s trouble,” he said once, arms crossed, watching bokuto rev up his truck in your driveway. “you think he’s gonna be enough when you’re starin’ at office buildings instead of cornfields?”
you bit your tongue. you didn’t argue.
because deep down, some small terrified part of you knew he might be right.
you loved koutaro. god, you loved him with everything you had.
but you wanted more.
you needed more.
and kou, sweet, golden, stubborn koutaro — would have given you the whole world if he could.
he just didn’t know how to.
…
the night before you left, he pulled you into the river one last time.
your old sundress floated around your knees, his t-shirt clung to his chest, and he spun you in the current like it might stop time if he just tried hard enough.
“don’t go,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.
“i have to,” you whispered back.
he kissed you like he could change your mind.
kissed you like he was carving the shape of your mouth into his memory forever.
kissed you like seventeen-year-olds who still believed love could outrun geography.
and maybe, for a little while, it could.
…
the morning you left, the driveway was already hot under your sandals.
your car was stuffed so full you could barely see out the back window: clothes, pillows, notebooks, a whole life crammed into duffel bags and laundry baskets.
your mama hugged you tight, whispering prayers you half heard.
your daddy clapped bokuto on the back like he was doing him a favor by not saying more.
bo stood there, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, his cap pulled low over his eyes. he hadn’t shaved. his hair stuck up messy. he looked like he hadn’t slept.
you crossed the gravel between you, heart pounding.
“i’m proud of you,” he said, voice rough. “always been proud of you’.”
“you better be,” you teased, blinking fast against the tears burning your eyes.
he pulled you in hard, arms around your waist, lifting you off your feet like he had a hundred times before, and kissed you one last time.
a kiss that tasted like desperation and goodbye.
a kiss you would dream about for years after.
when he set you down, you touched his cheek, rough with stubble, warm from the sun — and smiled through the ache.
“i love you, kouta,” you said.
his breath hitched, just for a second.
“love you too, baby girl.”
you slid behind the wheel. rolled down the window. waved until you couldn’t see him anymore through the dust kicking up behind you.
bokuto stood in the middle of the driveway long after the car disappeared, staring down the empty road, feeling like the earth had cracked open under his boots.
he bought a sixer that night.
sat on the bed of his truck, staring at the stars, sipping slow.
thought about the girl who once loved the river and the boy who loved her even more.
thought about how love wasn’t always enough.
thought about how, no matter how far you went, he’d never stop wondering if you ever thought about him too.
and somewhere, seven summers down the road, you’d still close your eyes sometimes and remember it all: the river, the pickup truck, the boy from east tennessee.
because some summers don’t end.
they just get folded into the places you keep your oldest dreams.
