Zuku - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

⌗ 𝐼𝐹 𝑂𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐸 𝑊𝐴𝑆 𝐴 𝑃𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐸 | izuku midoriya

warnings ╱ enemies | strangers to lovers ? in a way, black!fem reader, farmer izuku, mean izuku, daddy kink ( it’s used like twice ), copious amounts of cum, tummy bulge, misogyny ? ( izuku doesn’t like when you cuss ), oral sex ( m -> f ) ( f -> m ), pet name usage ( princess, baby, pretty ), izuku has an accent & uses southern slang !

word count ╱ 12.8k ( hehe )

maisie’s note ╱ finally ! ! ! idk why this fic took me so long but it did :3 i think it’s cuz this is different than anything i’ve ever written before and i kinda had to do a little research on the average day of a farmer n what they do n all that stuff @.@ but ermm, yeah! izuku n reader are both twenty one ( 21 ) in this. also, here are the visuals ! one & two ! minors do not interact! feedback & reblogs appreciated!

it’s true.

you know — what they say about the stars being more brighter, more irradiant . . . vibrant in the countryside. growing up in the city, you had thought it was a lie. sure, sometimes you had to squint past thin layers of smog and gloom, but you could always see the stars just fine. distant, celestial bodies made up of hydrogen and helium, floating kilometers, light years away — its always fascinated you. it being not only stars, but space, time, the idea of knowing that you reside on a tiny, floating rock with almost eight billion other people.

moving from an almost two million people populated city to little sycamore square, seeded right near the border of georgia and alabama on a measly two hundred and fifty acres of land wasn’t a change you would have considered trivial nor minor. no, it took a lot of thought — literal years of weighing pros and cons until you just decided, screw it, you simply couldn’t take it anymore. the constant whirring of helicopters circling the entire city, spine vibrating honks of cars and double decker buses aching your sensitive ears as they sped down the three lane street a block away from your home, and constant stories of robberies and gun violence on every breaking news channel you flicked through on tv, to modestly put it, did not sit right in your spirit.

your uncle maevis, the deemed black sheep of the family, had ran off from the city when he was eighteen years old. no one had heard from him in years until there was a call from him to your mother fifteen years later, when you were twelve, telling her that he had became the mayor of some quaint, little town named sycamore square and gotten married to the town’s pastry shop’s owner.

from then on, you guess that you and your uncle maevis grow close. he apologizes for leaving the family on such a bad note, realized that it was wrong for not checking in sooner ( could’ve spared your grandparents the dozen missing persons report they had battered the police into filing every couple years ). you and him exchange letters, talk on the phone, he even began to send you pictures and postcards of the town’s beautiful scenery.

and in a way, you fall in love with sycamore square without even needing to step foot there.

breaking the news to your parents that you wanted to leave the bird’s nest when freshly turned eighteen wasn’t easy — not by a landslide. constant asks of ‘are you sure?’ and snide comments of the town potentially having ‘mountain lions’ and ‘roaming bears’ were propelled into your ears as a last minute save to get you to stay.

but, you had already made up your stubborn, little mind. you were leaving and there was not a thing they were able to do about it. you were a legal adult, they couldn’t chain you to the porch steps even if they tried.

uncle maevis and his wife anna welcome you into their home with open arms and you quickly adapt to your new life there, living as the mayor’s niece. to a certain extent, you’re treated like a celebrity.

upon your first week living there, dozens after dozens of homemade pies, fruit baskets, and bouquets of beautiful flowers were sent to your home. the town even threw you something close to a ‘homecoming’ ceremony to express their happiness and gratitude of having someone of sweet grace, class, and prestige move down to their little neighborhood. you’re aware that everyone takes liking to you . . . and quite quickly, even so.

in that case, everyone aside from him.

a soft breath of air pushes past your nostrils as your eyes catch on glints of forest green shaded beneath jet black curls that flop and dance in the comforting wind.

izuku midoriya.

everyone in town calls him ‘zuku, ‘zu, or simply midoriya. he had caught your eye on your third day having been moved to sycamore square. back then, he had been eighteen too, but he was so . . big. his stature was one of the first things you noticed about him.

natural, refined, sterling hard muscle cloaked with smooth, ivory skin, dotted with speckly freckles the color of honey. through enough gossip and factitiously-innocent asked questions to your auntie anna, you’ve come to learn that izuku has lived in sycamore square his entire life.

him and his grandma reside over near the outskirts of town on a few, large acres of land in a white, oak trimmed farmhouse that’s been passed down through his family for generations.

some mornings, when you go to sit out on the porch swing to watch the rising sun bring in its rays of light with a nice, hot cup of coffee in hand, if you squint hard enough, you can see him on magic — his onyx black, thick maned, friesian horse that he rides to herd in cattle and flocks of sheep, galloping across the horizon.

he does a lot for the town, you came to realize.

most of everyone’s milk and cheese are churned right from the cows he owns, he makes sure to package boxes upon boxes of fresh eggs made by his brood of hens and give them to the town’s grocery and convenience stores, but him and his family are most known for their poultry.

“don’t know what it is about it, but ‘zu has to have the best bacon i’ve tasted in my entire life,” uncle maevis seems to mumble every morning at the table as anna plates his second serving of breakfast.

he’s polite. when he rides through the busy plaza on magic, you can hear him give sweet, “g’mornin ma’am”s and “how ya’ doin, sir?”s, sometimes even tilts his little invisible, wide rimmed hat to a group of high school girls when he catches them staring wide eyed and slack jawed at him and pretends not to notice how they immediately burst out into squeals and giggles when he’s far enough in fear of him hearing them freak out about how ‘handsome’ and ‘gentlemanly’ he is.

you think he’s managed to have a full conversation with everyone in your two thousand person populated town but you. and you don’t know why.

but, in a way, it’s not like you’ve tried to talk to him neither.

because just as how easily polite, kind, and sweet izuku can be, you find that he can also be the slightest bit intimidating.

it’s scary.

you think the closest you’ve ever been close to him has to be every fifteenth of every month — when the town opens its monthly farmer’s market where local farmers and people of the neighborhood sell fruit, vegetables, poultry, and a bunch of crafty knick knacks to consumers.

you sell your own, homemade candles followed by flower seeds by the pound. your little booth is always a hit and it makes you happy to hear praise of how good your candles smell because you put a lot of hard work into it. it’s not an easy task and you’re only able to sell around ten to fifteen.

one of the main reasons why you drive yourself to even crank those out every month is because izuku’s booth is always in front of and two down from yours. you’re able to get the best view of him come when the crowds ebb and dwindle out. his booth sells, of course, produce and handmade soap bars made of honey — a town known product that’s been made by his family for years.

you watch him smile at the people who walk up to his booth and give a pretty, little handsome laugh and bestow soft kisses on the rosy cheeks of infants as if he were the next living messiah and you try, you desperately try not to, but it’s hard not to feel a tinge of jealousy spark in what feels the base of your tummy at it all.

not of him, no, but of everyone else he interacts with. why won’t he talk to you?

“hey, babe,” anna’s giving you a soft smile as you trudge up the three steps that opens up to the large porch of your home. she’s standing in the doorway behind the flimsy, screen door which she pushes open to aid you in carrying the few, heavy bags that contain your candle making materials and set them down on the glossed, mahogany floors in the foyer.

a warm scent of sweet pepper and vanilla balms the air and drifts itself inside of your nose the moment you step foot over the threshold.

you sniff. “you’re baking?”

anna nods and wipes her hands on the apron she wears while walking to the kitchen. “mhm. i heard ‘zu’s grammy came down with some nasty flu. i made her a nice, little basket full of some teas and remedies and baked her an apple pie,” she says as you follow her. “would’ve got you to do the pie, goodness knows how good your lil’ hands are in the kitchen, but i forgot the market opened today and you ran out the door before i can tell you.”

you can feel warmth bloom across the surface of your cheeks as you look away. maybe you were a little extra excited to see izuku today. “sorry.”

“it’s fine, no worries.”

you watch her pull down the door of her teal-colored, antique, double oven and then a plump, steaming hot apple pie is set on the windowsill overlooking the backyard seconds later to cool.

anna gives you a smile, “you think you can run this care basket down to her for me? i’d do it myself but—“

“—sure, sure,” you’re already backing up from inside the kitchen to hurry on upstairs. “just lemme go change and i’ll be right on down.”

you’re aware of what this could potentially intel and lead to — you finally meeting izuku for the first time. there’s a bud of meager enthusiasm sprouting within your chest that you find hard to keep down. you have always made it a goal to look your best, no matter time or day — pretty skirts, dresses, blouses, and mary janes a staple in your wardrobe collection. but, you can’t help but want to look your absolute best just in case of you both stumbling into each other.

so, pulling out your favorite emerald green, white lace trimmed, thin strapped dress made of silk that clenched tight along the bodice to bring out the shape of your figure didn’t seem like a blunder. you make sure to adorn a few thin, gold necklaces to piece it all together and pin back a few of your long, butt length locs with pretty clips to bring out your face more.

“tell her that me and the mayor hopes she gets well soon, alright?” anna’s sending you off with a wicker basket full of tea bags, jars of marmalade, the pie, and a bouquet of baby’s breath in arm. “hurry along.”

you find sycamore square to be at its prettiest during dusk and dawn. towering mountains thread along the perimeter of the entire town, acting as its own welcome and come again sign and big, beautiful, camphor trees and shrubs of roses and hibiscus line the one lane roads. you realize that you walk with a little pep in your step as the fresh, late morning air wafts over your face, bringing with it the scent of dew and cedar.

izuku lives on the most captivating piece of land in town, you think. the closer you get towards the house, the more homes and shops start to disperse until there just weren’t anymore. the pavement evens out to a long, winding, dirt road, corralled by wooden, split rail fencing and miles of meadow stretches out towards your left and right.

the closer you get, the drier your mouth feels. you clutch the bouquet of baby’s breath closer to your chest at the sight of the black, oak, glass paneled front door and you’re prepared to knock on it until you realize that there’s a doorbell, so, instead, you settle for just pressing the pad of your finger against the glowing button, hearing a distant, classic ding-dong! echo throughout the house.

you wait.

and while you wait, your head swivels on your shoulder to look towards your left. there’s a a navy blue colored barn about an acre away whose door was left partially ajar. you wonder, just wonder, if izuku was maybe in there — milking the cows, feeding magic, raking up hay that probably covers the entire floor before deciding to ultimately lift the entire haystack with big, strong arms flexing—

the door opens.

an automatic smile covers your face out of reflex as you turn your head back forward.

“. . . hi.”

it’s him.

he finally stands before you, finally looking at you. your voice quickly gets caught in your throat as you realize that you have to lift your chin just to make eye contact with him.

your voice is smaller when you reiterate, “hi.”

his eyes — the tone of moss, pine, and juniper all brewed and fused into one — stare down into yours and he squints them just a bit before lifting a bended arm to lean against the threshold. “. . . can i help you?”

he wears a thick, red and black flannel thrown over a white, muscle tee. his voice is deep, but not too deep to where you couldn’t comprehend his words. he has an accent, of course, he has an accent. it’s a nice, rich, southern drawl. god, you think you’re going crazy.

“uhm,” your fingers tighten around the basket and flowers. “uh, we heard — my aunt, uncle, and i —that your grandma has the flu and we just wanted to, uhm . . . to . .”

izuku’s staring at you — deep green of his eyes a mirror image of chasmal nihility — awfully different than the usual handsome grin that seems to permanently reside on his lips anytime he waltzes into town. you feel your heart give a firm thud against the cage of your ribs before it ultimately seems to . . stop. he seems . . . annoyed by you.

your chin drops, eyes do too, and your voice is now softer, “we heard that your grandma has to flu so, here you go,” you hold out the items you brought and he takes them slowly, as if hesitant. “the mayor and his wife hopes she gets well soon.”

“. . . mhm,” is all he says, before leaning back against the doorframe.

you think your fingers are trembling so you clasp your hands together and hold them behind your back before deciding to spare one last look up at him.

freckles.

so, so many freckles.

dotted along his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. some are even peppered all over his neck and the broad span of his collar bones and shoulders, you have no doubt that they probably made home along his torso and back, too.

a frown starts to slowly pull down the corners of his lips, “is there anythin’ else?”

oh. “oh! no, no,” a bright smile of embarrassment spreads across your face as you shake your head and slowly take a step back. in doing so, a swift breeze wafts across your face, making you realize that you were standing so close to him before that you were enshrouded in a cloud of his scent. he smells like syrup and pine. “no, uhm, that’s it.”

thick eyebrows rise underneath messy, green curls. “i’ll tell gramma the mayor sends her good wishes.”

you don’t know what you had expected.

maybe a ‘thank you,’ or proper goodbye-send off . . certainly not him taking a step back, mirroring you, and swinging the door shut in your face with a firm blam! before you hear the swift shlick! of a lock twisting.

you’re shocked.

speechless, you scoff a slight sound of dumbfoundment prior to turning on your heels and returning back to where you came from.

okay, you think. wow.

on your way home, you replay the interaction again and again in your head. your mother’s always told you that you had too big of a heart, you let people get away with things that they know they can get away with only because it’s you. so, it’s no surprise why your mind drifts off into the conclusion that maybe . . maybe izuku didn’t mean to slam the door that hard. and if he did, maybe he was just having a bad day. that’s not a far off presumption, you muse. it makes sense.

you try not to dwell on it for too long.

he was just having a bad day. that’s all.

from then on, you consider yourself on a constant, steady descent into madness. it’s something you’ve always struggled with — being a people pleaser. and if you ever decide to go to therapy and discuss why you are the way that you are, you’re sure that it would be traced back to either one, your giving always has been disproportionate in each relationship you’ve had and always lacked a return of current reciprocity, or two, who you were and what you wanted has been replaced by the needs and happiness of others — at the cost of your own likes, dislikes, goals, desires, and dreams.

dramatic, you think. although true, but you’d prefer not to delve too deep into that.

“baking soda, flour, butter, sugar, eggs, white chocolate, macadamias, cinnamon, m&ms, and chocolate chips.”

you’re standing inside of the kitchen with a pink, frill-trimmed apron tied over your favorite, plaid skirt and blouse and a small, crumpled piece of notebook paper held between manicured fingers. the ingredients you have written down on the parchment have all been marked with a check right beside them to indicate that you bought them and they’re all laid out in front of you on the counter.

“alright,” you smile, set the paper down, and grab a mixing bowl.

it’s a new day. that means izuku’s probably doing a little bit better.

you’re fully prepared to try again.

baking has always been more of a hobby of yours than job, but, still, it’s also a skill that you find useful. you’re able to bake three different types of cookies — snickerdoodle, m&m, and white chocolate macadamia nut — in the shape of pretty hearts within only an hour and you make sure to envelop them all on a porcelain with plastic wrap to keep warm.

“where are you going?”

maevis is seated on his dark brown, leather, recliner seat in the living room as you’re shoving your feet inside of your pink, high heeled, mary jane shoes.

“down to izuku’s.”

he flips a page of his newspaper, looks at you over the rim of gold framed, rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and gives a small ‘hm.’ “alright. be safe.”

you smile and wrap your hand tighter around the red and white checkered wool you have the plate enswathed in. “okay, i’ll be back!”

you’re out of the door on a mission.

making it down to their farmhouse seemed to have taken shorter time than the first. you’re already ringing the doorbell before you’re done rehearsing the lines you planned on saying to izuku as the same bout of nervousness that sparked the inside of your chest the first time returns during which the door opens.

“_____!”

you grin, “ms. aya, hi!”

izuku’s grandmother is a tiny woman, standing at only five foot with thin, waist length curls the same forest-green tone of her grandson’s. you greet her with a hug when she opens her arms and a nice scent of toffee and cedar glides within your nose the moment your chin touches her shoulder.

“how are you feeling?”

she gives you a soft smile and waves you further inside the house after shutting the door. “oh, i’m fine now. the tea your aunt sent me helped a lot, tell her i said thank you for me, dear.”

she leads you down the foyer. you find the interior of their home to be very classic — high ceilings completed with wooden beams, dark floors, and a curved staircase a few feet away from the entrance.

ms. aya ushers you to the kitchen, “c’mere,” she says excitedly. “sit, sit! feels like i haven’t seen you in so long. how’ve you been?”

you take a seat on the bench section of the dining room table just as a loud shrill of a tea kettle went off, signaling aya to put on an oven mit, grab it from the stove top, and set it on a coaster.

“i’ve been good,” is your reply. “i just stopped by to drop off these cookies i baked for you and your grandson — uh, izuku.”

“ ‘zu?” she looks over her shoulder at you while carefully pouring the steaming, hot water into a short mug. her eyes glance away and eyebrows slowly begin to gather, “speakin’ of ‘zu, where is—“

a door closes and you hear the gruff sound of a man clearing his throat a few feet down the hall. on compulsion, your spine straightens and all the confidence you had gathered while walking over here demolishes the second pretty, green eyes meet yours and a frown seems to instantly take place on his face.

“ ‘zu, where were you?” aya clicks her tongue and shuffles over to him.

you think they look a bit silly standing side by side — tiny, frail aya and big, strong, sweaty izuku. no flannel today, he’s just in another muscle tee tucked into a pair dark washed jeans, and heavy boots. your eyes flit this way and that, drinking in the sight of thick biceps, sharp collarbones, and a stout neck veneered in a thin layer of sweat.

his shoulders are rising a bit faster than normal. he’s out of breath. “choppin’ wood,” he tells aya through a soft mumble before he’s leaning to kiss her forehead and brush past you to the refrigerator without another glance given your way.

the air within the kitchen seems to spark a new tensity . . . and you’re not sure as to why. what was once lighthearted feels now unsettled. a dumbbell appears to have taken home within your chest and you look down at your fingers which thumb at the knot holding the plate of cookies together.

“well, aren’t you going to say hi?” aya takes a seat across from you. “. . i don’t think you two have met yet, have you?—“

“—we have.” izuku lets the fridge door slam closed as he opens up a cap to a bottle of water.

aya hums in consideration. “oh,” she coo’d. “well, she bought us cookies. c’mere, ‘zuku. try one. she bakes just as good as anna.”

your hands fall to your lap and you direct your vision to them as aya undoes the fabric and slips off the plastic wrap on the plate. izuku gives a soft sigh and lets slow, wide, heavy steps carry him over to the table where you sit.

you.

he cuts his eyes at you, watching you sit there, almost curled into a ball as if you didn’t want him to see you. good. the cookies on the plate look appetizing — heart shaped . . that’s cute — and his stomach growls at the sweet scent that spirals up from them into his nose. the m&ms catch his attention first. shelled chocolate candy of all colors of the rainbow, buried shallowly into the soft dough with a few chocolate chips in between between.

you take a peek up just in time when his long, thick fingers pick one from the plate and your big, pretty eyes follow his hand all the way up to his lips to watch him shove the entire cookie inside of his mouth while staring at you blankly. “no oatmeal raisin?”

he’s talking to you.

you swallow and slowly shake your head, “n-no,” you utter, unable to look away from him. “just . . m&ms, snickerdoodle, and, uh, macadamia and white chocolate.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment. just rubs his fingers together to dust the crumbs off of them and you flinch when some fall on your tiny skirt. “hm,” he murmurs, grabs his water bottle, then walks out of the kitchen without another word uttered.

your posture slumps and you let a heavy exhale. with him gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe.

he hates you.

no, it’s not just a simple dislike ( as if you could deal with that, anyways ). he hates you and you don’t know why. it’s bothersome.

each time he catches your eye in the plaza while he’s talking to someone, you can literally see the edges of his smile go frayed prior to him looking by away. you don’t stop with the cookies, either, no, you drop off pie, cakes, and candles to the izuku residence, all in effort to somehow get a hint as to why or, even better, an explanation, but he’s quick to brush you off, exit the room, or is just simply not in at that moment.

aya, of course, is more than happy to spend more time getting to know you. and a part of you feels bad at knowing a teeny, tiny bit of you only stopped by every couple days was to see her grandson, but, honestly, can you help it?

you’re drawn to izuku like a stupid, little moth to a blaze.

when you catch him at the town’s convenience store while buying lemons and sugar for your uncle’s famous lemonade, you can’t help but step away from the counter, losing your place in line just to follow the mop of moss-green curls all the way to the back of the store where alcohol, gauzes, and all things first aid are stocked.

your steps are quiet and slow as you round a shelf to watch him squint his eyes, bend his neck, and read a description on a box of bandages.

you think your eyes catch the blotch of blood seeping through the white tee he wears before anything — thick, runny, and the color of merlot, dripping down to the light wash hemming off his levis. “i-izu’,” you’re gasping and shuffling over, hardly needing time to think about your own actions. the heels of your loafers clicking against the linoleum catches his attention. “god, are . . are you okay? you’re bleeding—“

“—i know that—“

“—do you need help? uhm,” you’re setting down the small basket holding the sugar and lemons to open up the satchel you wear, hoping that you have something to aid him with. “i should have—“

he bites out a low, “—i’m fine—“

“—actually, matter of fact, no. how ‘bout i just buy some gauzes and neosporin myself and i can patch you right on up—“

“—i’m fuckin’ fine!”

you jump and large, spooked eyes shoot up to meet his. izuku’s fists ball and he takes a step closer so that he’s looming over you — a threatening vice of strength and you’re left to hold your arms around yourself in fear of him hurting you. “that’s what’s fuckin’ wrong with you city folk,” he rasps quietly, eyes shifting between the both of yours as if he were making sure you were understanding each word that came out of his mouth. “always thinkin’ y’all know everything and what’s best. can tell you right now that i’d rather stand here ‘n bleed out than let ya’ help me.”

oh.

there it is, you muse. finally.

izuku watches the corners of your plump, full lips wobble and your bottom lip juts out into a darling pout as your eyes flicker down from his, to his neck, chest, then the floor. “o-okay,” you whimper, voice soft. “alright. fine.”

your head snaps back up and you seem to try to recuperate your previous poise but when it doesn’t work, your entire face crumbles and you make sure to shove past him with a hard nudge of your shoulder into his side to get him out of your way.

and you wouldn’t call it depression, no, but you are . . . really sad for the next couple days.

your bed is your safe haven and you stay wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and plushies, dozing in and out of sleep between hours of crying your eyes out. if he wants to hate you, then that’s fine. you can hate him, too. it isn’t that hard.

maybe this was just what you needed for you to finally build a spine and speak up for yourself.

“hey, babe.”

you’re a whiny, little mess, letting anna sit upon your bed and stroke her hand gently over your silk, sleeping cap while you lay your head on her lap. she makes sure to check up on you once every few hours — whether that be just opening the door and making sure you’re alive or, at least, trying to get you to eat something. she doesn’t pressure you into telling her what has you so upset, nor to get up out of bed, and you adore her for that.

“wanna eat?”

it’s morning, around ten am. you showered only a couple hours ago after not being able to sleep and you considered actually getting dressed and going to run a couple errands for the house today for the first time in a while.

but, then, the doorbell’s ringing, uncle maevis is yelling upstairs that it’s for you, making you climb out of your sanctum of warmth and serenity, catch one glimpse of freckled cheeks when you make it to the railing, and then turn around. “no,” is all you grumble, catching anna’s bewildered expression as you climb back into bed and shove your face underneath a pillow. “no.”

she softly asks you, “who was it?” and gets up to check herself. only, it’s clear, that izuku has followed you upstairs because you soon head her give a little gasp and the honeyed, contralto of his voice rumbling out a calm, “g’mornin’ ma’am,” from your bedroom threshold. “i was hopin’ that i could talk ta’ her f’a second . . . just a moment.”

you curl yourself deeper underneath your blanket, almost trying to make yourself appear invisible. maybe, if you curl tight enough you can disappear, or better yet, he won’t see you.

“angel?” anna’s touching your shoulder and you huff and pull away. “i’m gonna let ‘zuku talk to you for a second, okay? i’ll be right downstairs. call me if you need me.”

please don’t leave, please don’t leave, please don’t leave.

her footsteps recede down the hallway and you sigh.

with your aunt gone, it leaves izuku standing in your doorway, and normally he’d ask a woman for permission to enter her bedroom but he knows you’re just as stubborn as a bloody-minded bull, so he walks in on his own and lets his eyes catch on the pretty decor of your room.

you have an an arch shaped window straight ahead with a giant pillow and plush animals covering the floor underneath it. there’s a bookcase of all sorts of material aligned with a wall right beside it so he thinks that that may be your little book nook — cute. a classic tortoise shell vanity is directly across from your canopy bed, and the wall behind it is curtained with fairy lights, polaroid pictures, and photo booth strip images of you, your friends from the city he supposes, and your parents.

what covers your vanity is all types of things. he lets his fingers drift across your hair brush, jars of edge control, make up, and candles.

“i reckon that y’can’t be mad at me forever.”

he watches the little lump you make in the bed shuffle, proving that you heard him, but you don’t say a word.

izuku slowly rounds the other side of your bed and tries to hold in a smile. “you ignorin’ me?”

silence.

he sighs. he thinks he deserves that. “hey,” he crouches down to become eye level with you once he plucks the blanket you have over your head with his finger and lifts it so that your face is revealed. you’re pouting, of course you are, and yet, still, you’re staring at him like you’re trying to deep fry him like catfish with your eyes. izuku nibbles on the inside of his cheek, “gramma told me you were interested in how i spend my day,” his voice is soft, gentle, as if he were talking to a kitten to keep from scaring it away. “ ‘n so i thought i’d show you.”

your pout deepens into a frown and you slowly lift up so that you’re propped up on your hands, “what makes you think that i’d want to spend the entire day with you after what you said to me, midoriya?”

izuku rubs the inner corners of his eyes with his fingers and tries to explain this in the calmest way possible, “just . . come on. put on your shoes and let’s go.”

you fold your arms, “no.”

god, you’re a piece of work. he licks his lips, sighs, and lets his legs work on stretching him back up to his full height. “_____, please, put on your shoes. i’d like it if you came and spent the day with me.”

you, petty you, fix him with the nastiest scowl your pretty face can scrounge up, and in the sweetest tone possible, tell him, “i’d rather lay here in this bed and suffocate or bore myself to death than spend my day with you.”

something wicked curls within the base of izuku’s gut, leaving him staring at you while working his jaw back and forth — something that has him confused on what it means. because he knows what you just said was similar to what he told you at the store, he knows you’re only trying to get him angry, and to leave you alone, and just for that, he’s going to do the exact opposite.

you flop back down, and this time, turn your back towards him, “get out of my room.”

he takes a seat at the foot of your bed. “well, then i reckon ‘m not leavin’ until you come with me.”

“i’ll get my uncle to drag you out himself.”

“mister maevis adores lil, ol’ me.”

you loathe knowing that he’s right. you drag yourself out of bed with a groan and huff, shuffling to your closet to pull out the first article of clothing you see which is a little, white skirt and pink, cropped sweater vest.

izuku clears his throat, standing up when you turn around and fix him with your eyebrows raised and a cocked head. “i’ll leave you to . . .” he looks down at the clothes on your hand then the pajamas you wear — pink, cotton shorts that stopped right underneath your ass and a bralette. “yeah.”

he stands in the hall while you get ready, leaned against wallpaper the shade of eggshells covered in daffodils and buries his fists in his jeans’ pockets, thinking over if this was a mistake or not. in essence, it didn’t take much for him to admit what happened at the store was wrong of him. if he wants to take it a step further, it was fucked up.

but upon his grandma telling him how interested you are in his life on the farm and what he does, he supposed that it’ll be just a tiny step into the right direction of apologizing.

“ ‘m ready.”

izuku doesn’t know why he despises you so much, especially when you look so pretty, every day, all the time. you purposely left him standing in the hall for almost forty five minutes before exiting the room looking as if you were an angel sent directly from up above to stand in front of him. but, izuku’d rather let magic gallop all thirteen hundred pounds of her against his rib cage than admit that, to himself or you.

“what are we doing first?”

izuku’s throwing one, thick, muscled leg over magic’s back to settle on the saddle before reaching a hand down to where you stand on the first step on the porch. your eyes flick from it to magic who only glances at you before giving a small snort and looking away.

“don’t be scared,” izuku reads the evident unease that glistens in your eyes and gives a short head rub to magic who pushes back into his hand with a sound of content. “she’s a sweet girl.”

“are you sure?”

one look at your fingers rubbing nervously against one another as you nibble on the corner of your bottom lip has izuku’s chest doing that weird thing again — makes him feel as if his heart was twisting and clenching and it makes him, strangely, want to pull you into his arms and never let go. any normal person would ignore the feeling, but izuku doesn’t, and to make it worse he responds to it which always has him biting his words out to you in irritation.

“i think i’d know my own horse. c’mon, we’re wastin’ time.”

you struggle a bit but you end up on the horse with your chest glued to izuku’s broad back.

“wrap your arms ‘round.”

you’re hesitant, you’re always so fucking timid around him, but you do it and izuku doesn’t waste another moment prior to giving magic a nudge into her side with the heel of his foot and she takes off down the road on a steady gallop.

you emit a small squeak. initially, its scary. you can’t help but bury your face into the soft cotton of the white button down izuku wears as the world whips past you in a blur. nevertheless, after a while, you take a peek and realize that if you focus on how the wind hits your face and how good izuku smells and if you press your little palms tighter against his chest, you can make out the outline of abdominal muscles ?, and it’s actually nice.

izuku controls magic with natural grace. his posture is straightened yet his lower body is lax so that he’s able to steer her left and right with only his heel if needed. you’re entranced by him.

“y’ever milk a cow?”

he’s leading you to the barn, the same one your eye keeps catching each time you happen to look out of the window while inside of the house with aya.

your thick wedged, vivienne westwood, ballerina shoes are sinking into soft soil as you try to keep up with his long strides. “nuh-uh,” you utter softly. “. . . it looks fun though.”

you hear izuku give a small snort. the sound makes you lift your eyes up to see a soft smile on his face though his eyes were still trained ahead of him. you want to ask him what’s so funny but he’s pushing open one of the tall, heavy doors of the barn and your brain’s immediately going empty at the sight of all of the animals that occupy almost the entire space within.

the pigs are the first you notice, around five of them, caged in a large wooden pin with dried mud caked all over their plump, pink bodies and they seem to snort a greeting towards you and izuku as you, him, and magic past by them, a flock of sheep, and two cows to an empty stall.

“that’s betsy,” he points to a brown spotted cow who lazily chews on a handful of silage. “and that’s tux.” a fluffy black one who stands in the other stall beside her.

you can’t help coo’ing and tickling your fingers atop of betsy’s head. “well, aren’t you precious?”

izuku watches you whisper and mutter to her while he fills magic’s drinking bail with fresh, drinking water. you’re like a child — skipping between betsy and tux and smiling all bright. and they melt their broad, fat faces into your soft palm, all content and happy like they didn’t try kicking and biting izuku the first time he met them all those years ago after being dropped off at the farm at only five years old by his parents before they ran back off to another country. jealous? fuck no.

you giggle, “you’re so cute.”

maybe.

“c‘mere.” izuku makes you hold out your hands so that he can slap some petroleum jelly on your little palms and tells you to rub it in while he opens betsy’s stall, grab a pail, rinses it clean, strip her, then plop it underneath her udders. “alright, now, watch me.”

you have to bend lower so that you’re in a crouching position like him to watch him grab two of betsy’s teats at the base by two of his fingers on each hand, grip, and slide down.

you’re amazed at how fresh, clean milk is released from the teats into the bucket, and how izuku seems to do it almost absentmindedly, as if this was just a regular ol’ day for him which, in hindsight, most likely is. “now y’wanna hold and, sort of, grip as you slide your fingers down so that the milk can come out.”

his hands are beautiful to you — big and thick, scarred and bruised. effortless strength and brawn eclipsed beneath a sealant of wounds. your eyes flutter from them and up to his face, shyly. he chews on the inside of his cheek when he’s focused which makes his freckles dance along his jaw as his curls flop against his forehead upon his moil and effort.

“here.” izuku lets betsy’s teats go, lifts up and takes a step back. “your turn.”

you’re hesitant. you waddle, still crouched down, to replace his spot and grab the teats carefully.

izuku hears you giggle. “they’re . . they feel weird,” you tell him softly. he watches you start to gently squeeze and pull, and surprisingly, you don’t seem half bad at it.

“may bring you around here more of’en.”

you spend your day milking cows, shaving sheep, gathering eggs, and feeding pigs. it’s fun — living in izuku’s shoes for a day, and in a way, the respect you have for what he does for the town builds because you see that it’s a lot. a lot more than you initially thought, that is. however, still, as fun and riveting it is, being a farmer and all, it’s nonetheless exhausting.

you’re burned out by the fifth hour which happens to be around dusk and thankfully, izuku doesn’t try to push you past what’s clearly your limit; he just leads you back to the barn, mumbling something about him needing to check on magic anyways, and lets you plop down on a haybed while he refills her food and water pail.

wordlessly, you watch him. “. . . you don’t like me very much, do you?”

the barn is quiet aside from the sound of a wooden brush’s bristles being combed through magic’s thick mane and the soft cracking of hay being stepped upon on your end. izuku looks at you and finds your eyes focused on your shoes and lets your words marinate for a moment. the question was blurted out so he gives you the option to backtrack and take it back if needed, but when you don’t, he inhales air through his teeth and looks back at magic.

his answer is coarse, “no.”

at the same time he says, “don’t ask why,” you shoot out, “why?”

the barn goes silent again for a while and you find that now that the topic is here, lingering in the air, there’s no point in fighting to leave it alone. “did i . . did i do something to you?” your voice is soft and frail; makes izuku step around magic to get the other side of her mane just out of fear of him seeing your round, doe eyes looking up at him full of dejection. “ ‘cause if i did, i’m sorry. all this time, i didn’t think of me probably saying something to you in the wrong way or tone, or maybe even, cutting you off at the plaza—“

“—you didn’t do anythin’.”

you watch him toss the brush to the side, close magic’s stall, then sigh. his face goes through a range of emotions before he ultimately settles on looking straight at you with what looks like frenzy sheathed underneath a thin layer of control. “. . think it’s more about me likin’ you a little too much than me not liking you.”

your eyebrows gather in close as they dip in to reveal your confusion. “hm?”

izuku rolls his eyes and turns his back toward you. his neck bows and you’re confused on what he’s doing until you notice his shirt loosening around the shoulders. “gramma tells me that ‘m actin’ like a child . . a schoolboy because i’d rather hold my emotions for you under dislike and insults than tell you how i really feel.”

his shirt falls off of his arms and he throws it over a wooden beam while walking to an empty stall where a chipped, large piece of glass laid propped up, serving as a mirror. beside it is a shelf that holds a first aid kit and he grabs it before coming to a stop in front of the mirror, leaving you to look at him through the reflection.

your mind tugs between being shocked at how chiseled his torso is — broad, thick, strong, and decorated with scars and bruises, both new and old — and concerned . . because that cut you had wanted to nurse back at the convenience store seems to not have gotten the slightest bit better. no longer is he bleeding but the skin around it is purpled and clearly tender; you can see it in the way he flinches back from his own fingers when he reaches out to tear off the gauze.

“god, izuku.” you’re walking over and reaching for a wet wipe in the first aid kit. “you’ve been walking around like this all day?”

“past couple days,” he gruffly corrects, watching you bend your neck so that you’re able to carefully start wiping away the pus and ooze that seems to drip from the scar. he notices the tiny gold hooks and shells that decorate your locs and how you seem to actually be concerned for his well being . . and he pretends not to notice how his heart speeds up in the slightest as the feel of your little fingers brushing along his skin.

“you’re stupid,” you hiss, sparing a look up at him to see his eyes widened with surprise. “you’re so stupid. you haven’t let yourself heal, it’s been open this entire time.”

he doesn’t know what to say, but he stands still and lets you rub on some numbing cream and keeps from admiring how pretty you look through the reflection of the mirror behind you.

your voice is gentle again when you murmur, “but i’m not gonna ignore what you said . . . schoolboy?”

izuku feels himself grow a little embarrassed. he looks away. “don’t know how else to explain it.”

you’ve got this far . . . “so you like me?”

he doesn’t say anything. not until medication is transferred onto a thick, new piece of gauze and the gauze is stuck and patted against izuku’s skin.

“truth is,” izuku waits until you look up at him. until your pretty eyes meet his and leave his heart stuttering within his chest which he powers through to softly say, “always thought you were sweeter than stolen honey.”

it’s immediate — the adorable smile that starts to creep up on your lips, leaving you to shyly look away from him and drop your forehead between his pectoral muscles which only makes izuku chuckle. “. . i thought you hated me,” you mewl. “izu’ this isn’t fair. you’d see me coming a mile away while you were standing at the plaza and hurry and go the other way, you sprinkled cookie crumbles on me because i didn’t make oatmeal raisin and when i did, you took the whole plate from me without so much a glance or thank you, and you slammed a door in my face!”

when it’s all laid out like that, izuku realizes that he was a bit rude to you. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, taking a chance to lay a kiss right against the crown of your head. god, he’s sorry. “i’m sorry, i just . . .” he chews the inside of his cheek, trying to explain his emotions as best he can. “i don’t know how to . . like someone.”

you lift your head and his heart melts at the pout that plays on your plump lips. “so, how do you know you like me?”

you’re confused when he grabs your wrist but it all makes sense upon him taking your hand, pressing it against the middle of his chest, and covering his own with it.

thudthudthudthudthud.

your pretty face is amazed, “it’s beating so fast,” you whisper, pressing your hand against his chest more flat as if to get a better feel.

his face softens when he laughs, you realize. he looks almost . . boyish, an innocent gleam in his eyes that you find adorable. “yeah, well . .” he clears his throat. “reckon it’s been beatin’ this hard since i picked you up earlier . . since i first saw you at the plaza three years ago.”

you’re giddy. you really don’t know how else to explain how you feel, especially when you have izuku staring down into your eyes, face soft and eyes dazed, as if he were just looking at you for the first time. you don’t say anything for a second, you want to bask in how this feels for as long as you can, notably upon him bringing your hand that covered his heart up higher so that he can press one, two, three, four, five gentle kisses against each pad of your fingers.

you stare at his lips the entire time — soft, pink, flushed a pretty coral. the air around you both seems to thicken; leaves your own lips parting and your little mouth softly gasping for your next breath upon him pulling you even closer, chest to chest. he’s so big, you realize it for what feels like the thousandth time. he makes you nervously shift from foot to foot as you try to vocalize what you want, leaving him staring at you with amusement shining within viridescent green.

“you can . .” your voice is pitched higher and his fingers tighten around the hold he has around your waist to make you gasp again. “you can kiss me.”

his responding chuckle is so deep that it has you feeling it rumbling throughout your entire body. you hate how a lick of heat starts at the base of your throat and ends with a gush of slick pooling in the seat of your panties. “shit, that’s cute,” he mumbles, still smiling. “how you think i need permission.”

‘huh?’ is only halfway out of your mouth prior to his lips touching yours and you, precious you, blossom like a rose within his arms. he kisses you hard, has your back bending rearward from the sheer intensity of it, but you’re all for it. your hands slip across the broad swathe of his shoulders which you dig your fingernails into as if to somehow bring him closer. izuku cups the underneath your jaw between his large hand, so that he’s able to keep your chin up and lips atop his which he nibbles upon tauntingly, tasting sweet cake batter from your lipgloss.

“izu’,” you whimper and go to pull away but as if drawn to one another like a moth to a flame, you only last a second without his lips against yours before you both are drawn to one another again.

your body’s turning and your feet are moving, walking backwards until the underside of your ass touches what feels like the bed of hay and you’re pulling away for the second time to look up into izuku’s eyes. “can i,” his breathing is slightly labored. “. . . can i touch you?”

you want to be reluctant, you want to resist, but izuku makes it hard.

you mewl out a little, “uh-huh,” while nodding your head and he’s really not wasting another second. your tiny sweater vest is lifted off of your head and thrown somewhere irrelevant, and hesitantly, his fingers reach for the buttons of your shirt before he starts to undo them one by one with your hands holding his wrists the entire time.

your tiny skirt is next to go, not before he indulges himself and lets his hand fall down on one fat, plush globe prior to him taking a nice handful and you squeak while pressing your chest back against his. “my god,” he whispers underneath his breath, looking over your shoulder to do it again. “lemme see it, princess.”

you whine and press your ass back into his big, rough hands, satiating his greed of seeing your it jiggle and move when you grab it from the bottom yourself and squeeze. izuku moans. “fuck.”

it’s jarring — seeing his usual, stoic composure he seemed to have masqueraded just for you drop second by second, until he’s just . . . izuku. the izuku you’ve seen kiss his grandmother on the cheek on greeting each time he enters the house, the izuku that laughs all loud and cute in the plaza, the izuku that seems to have softened up more notably around you until he’s giggling and kissing the spot right atop your heart prior to him picking you up, giving you a twirl, then laying you back upon the soft, fleece covering of a hay bed.

“drive me crazy, y’know that?” he mumbles while undoing the ribbons that tie into a bow right above your ankles which allows your shoes to loosen and fall, leaving you cladded in just your short, frilly socks and pink, laced undergarments with little bows decorating the hem of your bra and panties. “know how hard it’s been f’me, honey?” when you don’t answer, too entranced by his hands sliding up the curve of your hips and waist, up to your ribs then all the way back down to your calves, izuku gives a tilt to your body and swats a nice, thick smack to your ass. you squeak. “ ‘m talkin’ to you.”

“h-hah . . no, izu’.” you’re so cute, pouting down at him like you don’t understand . . like you’re clueless to what you’re doing to him and his little, ol’ heart.

“izu’,” he repeats softly, standing from his knees. nobody calls him that but you and he fucking loves it. he remembers the first time he heard you call him izu’, all syrupy sweet down at that convenience store. he’s positive that you hadn’t even known you let the nickname slip out of your mouth, too concerned with him bleeding and all, but it took almost everything within him from not downright ravaging you directly on that linoleum the nanosecond he heard it pass from your pretty lips.

you follow him when he stands so that you’re seated upright with one hand behind you, holding you up — watching his fingers slip one end of his belt through the loops of his jeans and silver buckle so that he can loosen it, pop open the button, and slide down his zipper.

your little body’s inching closer and closer. you aren’t even looking at him, eyes focused right on his crotch after he pulls his jeans and briefs down his thick, muscled thighs, and his cock springs up centimeters away from your nose bridge. the way you gasp is adorable.

your mouth feels dry. you’d be lying to yourself if you said you never wondered about how his cock would look like, late at night, buried beneath the soft fleece and wool of your blankets with green curls, freckled cheeks, bulging biceps, and pretty lips running through your brain at an all time speed like a movie montage. it’s pretty — tip flushed the same orangey-pink of his lips, firm skin wrapped around all thick, eight inches of him and he curves just slightly upwards.

your fingers lift before they recoil. “can i . .” your voice is quiet; seems to be stuck in your throat.

thankfully, izuku understand you. he hums softly, “want it?”

your hips shift at the sound of his voice — deep, quiet, gentle. your panties are so wet that it’s uncomfortable. you nod, and lift your head when he tilts your chin up so that you can make eye contact with him, “mhm.”

“say it, then.” you almost cum just at the sight of him starting to stroke himself — lazy and steady. “let izu’ hear you say it.”

you’re so pouty. izuku doesn’t understand how fucking precious one girl can be. “i wan’ it,” you whimper.

“want what?”

a glistening bead of pre cum starts to build at his tip. “want your cock, izu’,” you sniffle and push your cheek deeper into his palm. “want it . . in my mouth, please?”

“what a darlin’ thing you are,” he whispers, eyes focused on your lips which part wide open when his thumb brushes across the bottom. “don’t even have to tell you t’ open up . . good girl.”

the first taste of him on your tongue has your eyes simultaneously rolling back and fluttering closed. it’s something that you can’t explain — a certain briny sweetness that makes your saliva build up within your mouth and literally has you drooling over him. you begin a rhythm at a slow, lazy pace . . burying all of him til he touches the hilt of your throat and pulling back slowly while softly humming in content.

“fuck,” izuku whimpers and tilts his head back, letting himself just feel it for a second . . feel how your little mouth wraps around him tight. you’re messy with it — don’t care if your slobber gets all thick, frothy, and fizzy, ‘cause you’d only pull back and smooth it all over his shaft to lubricate him more while smiling cutely.

izuku’s mouth falls open when your little fists melt into the mix and you circle them in opposite directions while bobbing your head. his toes curl in his boots. “oh, goodgirlgoodgirlgoodgirl,” he moans and lets his hips start to rock back and forth. that’s exactly what you are. you’re so fucking good. izuku hates himself for how he treated you all these years. you didn’t deserve it, no, you didn’t.

all of those times he’d see you at the farmer’s market, selling your pretty candles and flower seeds, he’s been wanting to walk over and spark up a conversation with you so bad. but, he never could. in a way, he thinks you intimidated him . . all pretty and sweet, it’s fucking insane how bad he’s wanted you and for so long.

you choke and your throat clenches around his crown. izuku pulls out, letting you gasp and hum. “so pretty,” he whispers, slapping his heavy dick on the cushion of your displayed tongue. he’s positive that his eyes have hearts doodled within them. “prettiest girl in town . . in the universe.”

you can’t help but giggle which makes him smile and bend to grab your legs and pull them which has you falling back onto your back. “you taste s’good, izu’,” you whisper.

“hm? really? lemme try then.” he’s holding your face firmly between his hand so that he can essentially dip his tongue inside the warmness of your mouth to stroke it over your own and the roof of it, needy for both his and your conjoined taste and — god, it doesn’t disappoint. him, sharp and tart, mixed with your sweetness, he thinks he’s in love. you’re enticing; enlivening something carnal and twisted within him. something that izuku himself doesn’t even have a clue of as to what it is.

all he knows is that he’s never wanted someone as bad as he does you. he doesn’t know why he’s battered down this feeling, this urge for so long, but he knows that now that he has you, he refuses to ever let you go.

you’re looking up at him like he’s hung the sun in the sky when you whisper, “izuku.” your eye contact only breaks because you seem to shy away. “it hurts.”

hurts . . . he doesn’t like that. you shouldn’t be hurting, not one bit. never again for as long as he’s alive and breathing. “what hurts, honey?” he’s lifting himself a little higher, thinking that maybe him lying all of his body weight on you is the problem; but when you whine and shake your head, as if that was the last thing you wanted him to do, he grows even more confused. “hmm?”

it’s cute — how your little hand scrambles for purchase on his wrist so that you can lead and place his fingers right over the seat of your panties upon your pussy and how your eyes roll back into your head, making izuku think that only your relief is able to be satisfied and glutted by him — whether by a simple touch or not.

“oh,” he whispers, letting his fingers find the puffy pearl of your clit that protrudes out between your lips just the slightest bit and is hardened to the touch. “want me right here?”

“uh huh.” your legs are lifting on their own accord so that you can grab the backs of your thighs and hold yourself open for him. izuku appreciates that.

he bends his neck low so that he can leave sweet, gentle kisses along the soft, plush skin of your inner thighs. you smell so good to him — like a coconut cream pie, almost exactly like it, and it’s intoxicating. “spread ‘em wi — well, i’ll be damned,” pushes out of his chest as a soft whisper when you open your legs wider before he finished his sentence. “there you go . . . smart girl. so fuckin’ perfect.”

flawless. exquisite. you’re perfect.

upon him tearing your underwear off and pocketing them without missing your cute, scandalized gasp that is, izuku feasts his eyes on your pretty pussy and is positive that he falls in love with you right then and there. you’re shaved bare, save for a cute landing strip in the shape of a triangle right on your mound whose tip points to your slit.

your lips are chubby and brown but when he uses his thumbs to spread them apart, he opens a door to lovely, glittering, pink and a tiny, swollen clit who seems to have made home in its hood. you’re beautiful. you’re . . “ ‘bout pretty as a peach.”

you grow sheepish under his glazy-eyed stare. “s-stop it.”

izuku wants . . . he wants so much that it makes him press the pads of his fingers harder into your skin where he holds your thighs up himself in frustration. he wants to curb all of your doubts, your uncertainties, your worries — wants you to believe that there won’t be another day on earth where he’d be all cruel and horrid to you. he wants to know if you prefer to live out the rest of your days in a sweet cottage home or cozy, little bungalow. he wants to take his time to get to know your body, wants to treasure it the way it deserves to be. would you flinch back or keen if he blew a soft breath on your little clit to coax it from its cover?

he blows.

your body recoils but your back arches and you whine. both. how sweet.

when his mouth latches onto your entire pussy is when you gasp. his entire tongue scours the complete length of you, from the silver of skin separating your sweet cunt from your taint, all the way up to the throbbing bud of your clit. you lift your head, sparing the chance of your heart failing at the sight of his eyes staring straight ahead into yours through long, pretty eyelashes and messy curls. “ngh — izu, god,” you slump back against where you lay.

it’s a loud slurp echoing throughout the quiet barn when he pulls himself off, just to lay his thumb right above your clit and push the hood of it upwards with just a bit of pressure so that he can grant himself access to it. “there we go.”

your little toes curl in your socks when he suctions his lips to it and gives a few wet, experimental suckles. the muscles of your abdomen tenses and rolls and he feels you press the inside of your thighs closer to his ears, essentially telling him that you liked that.

“ooh shit,” you’re whimpering. “shit, izuku, fuck.”

how filthy. izuku comes to realize that he doesn’t like that very much — those foul words flowering from your pretty lips. but, still, he does it again, only this time he pulls his head back just an inch with your clit still in his mouth before letting it go with a wet pop so that it can settle back in place. you hiccup.

izuku wonders, “. . feel good?” he murmurs around your pussy, needing to know.

he looks up at you just in time for him to catch you lift your head. you’re beautiful. eyebrows just the slightest bit furrowed, making him think you were almost sad if it weren’t for how your mouth was dropped along a soft ‘o’ as you moaned his name. “uh-huh,” you nod and your soft hand pushes some of his curls back from his forehead to get a better look at how his tongue slowly began to snake down to slither inside of your tiny hole. “hng, shit!”

you think the responding swat on your thigh is innocent. his tongue buries inside of you deeper when you fall back again and open your trembling legs wider. “f-fuck, don’t stop—“

“—jesus fucking christ.”

izuku lets your legs fall from around his face and stands up. his mouth leaving the warmth of your pussy is so abrupt that you’re left blinking up at the ceiling in shock for a moment before you’re whimpering, “why did you—“

a bundle of lace trimmed cotton is pushed inside of your mouth — your underwear. “kiss your ma’ with that mouth, shortstuff?” izuku kicks off his shoes and his jeans. “i counted. your lil’ self cursed five times, i don’t like that. pretty girls don’t swear.”

a small mewl is made out through the gag in your mouth. izuku only joins you on the bed of hay when you reach out for him and makes sure to spread your legs wider, just to accommodate his build. he wants his words to sink inside of your fuzzy brain, wants to make sure that you understand what he’s saying . . and so he passes the time by trailing the tip of his nose carefully down your cheek until he reaches your neck where he softly kisses and hums against. “no swearin’, princess. y’hear me?”

you give a gentle “mhm,” and head nod, looking up at him as if he were the creator of all things good and he removes your panties without another second wasted before kissing your lips one more time.

his cockhead nudges the entrance of your pussy and it makes your next inhale go trembly. it hurts. blood hums and thrums within your veins, all heading south which only makes your pussy feels as if someone had been pounding at it with a hammer for an hour straight. izuku knows it hurts, he can see it in the way your hips shift and how your face screws. “can i—“

“—please, mhm, please,” you’re gasping. “do anythin’ izu, i don’t care.”

so pretty. izuku lifts up, spits into his palm and polishes it over his cock, watching your chest heave which only brings his attention to your tits, still encased within your bra and he silently thanks you for having a front clasp because he’s able to simply pluck the hook loose which allows your breasts to spill out into his welcoming hand.

“ooh, fuck,” he whispers, stroking the underside of his dick along your lips while rolling one, small nub between his fingers.

he inches inside you slowly, gradually, little by little until his heavy, plump balls are pressing flush against your ass and you’re mouth is left agape with a little pool of drool sitting on your tongue. izuku groans, forehead touching yours. “shit,” he’s panting, he realizes. left breathless by the sheer sight of you. “oh, fuck. how’s it feel, baby? ‘s good?”

your response is a simple sob of his name.

you’re so — you felt so full, so full, so full — it was too much. not enough? it was so much, too much. you can’t get enough. so good, so good, so good —

your eyes roll into the back of your skull when he pulls out just half way and carefully grinds back in. you’re positive of there being a bubble around you two, one full to the brim of avid, ravenous want and desire — three years of angry pining and back and forth leading up to this one moment which leaves izuku grabbing you by the backs of your knees to press them into the soft blanket on either side of your shoulders which he also uses as leverage to begin pistoning his hips up then down.

“oh my god,” you squeak and reach for his forearms, digging your nails deep into the skin when the crown of his dick bumps against the textured ridge of your cervix.

oh, he’s waited long enough — too long. “fuck, y’so pretty,” he mumbles, hearing the sticky squelch of his cock fucking your cream in then out of you. “so . . fuckin’ beautiful.”

his thrusts are slow, calculated, deep and his thumbs rub comforting, little circles against the underside of your thighs. he was proud of you for taking all of him so well. he’s inescapable when he leans back down to bury his face inside the crook of your neck which leaves your legs still opened and bent back by the weight of him.

your breaths are short and pushed out of you with each jab of his hips and you find the strength to wrap your arms around his back and bury one of your hands inside of his soft curls. “feels s-so good izu’,” you hiccup, feeling overwhelmed. your clit is stimulated by his trimmed pubes the closer he pushes his hips into yours.

izuku can’t get enough. his hands slip down beneath you so that he can grab you by the soft globes of your ass, grip them and start to make you rise your hips to meet him halfway when he picks up a quicker rhythm. “filthy . . lil’ . . pussy.”

tears of pleasure blur your vision. you can’t babble anything but ‘so good.’ “ ‘s so good,” you sniffle. “daddy, ‘s so good.”

the name slips from your lips without much thought, but something inside of izuku ignites. makes him lift his head to look at you, but it’s like you hadn’t realized you said it. how cute, how sweet. a lopsided smile lifts his lips, “ ‘s that right?”

he doesn’t give you a chance to take it back, no, that title’s all his now. he lets your legs go in lieu of throwing them over his shoulders and with the new position, it’s like his energy triples. you’re a mess. you’re a teary faced, empty brained, dumb little mess. “izu — god, fuck — izu’!”

two thunderously loud smacks rain down on your ass before you can even comprehend what you had just said. “what did i say?” izuku’s tone is gentle though as he holds your throat within his hand, not pressing, not squeezing, just anchoring you down to reality so that your blurred vision can focus on him. “what did daddy say, hm?”

your pussy spasms around his girth. “n-no,” you swallow and try to form another sentence. “no swearing.”

“good girl,” his pace stills. he sits there for a moment, lets you feel the weight of him inside of you while he basks in your velvety, pink walls tightening and constricting around him before he’s suddenly pulling out.

you gasp.

he coo’s at how your pussy gapes, only for a moment or two, before your pretty walls were closing again and shrinking behind the lips of your labia while greeting him with another gush of milky white slick.

“c’mere.” he tilts your body on its left side so that he can slip up behind you, lift your bent leg, and slap his heavy cock on your pussy. “put it in f’me, pretty.”

you sniffle as your little hand reaches for his dick and you align his tip to the entrance of your cunny so that izuku can slowly push back in. he thinks this position may be his favorite. your head falls back into his shoulder and you turn it into his neck as if to silence the loud, long moan crawling out from the base of your gut.

he lets you have that; knows you can only quiet yourself for so long, especially when he picks up an immediate constant rhythm that has your ass bouncing off of his hips with thick clapping sounds that echo throughout the entire stable. you’re drooling, a thin rivulet that trickles down your cheek and izuku lets his thumb stroke it away while he pants against your opened mouth. “please cum in me,” you’re crying and digging your fingernails into the forearm that’s wrapped around your chest. “please, izu’.” you’ve never wanted anything more in life, you’re sure.

izuku moans and slips his leg between the both of yours, needing to be intertwined within you. “oh, fuck, y’want that?” he groans. “y’sure?”

“uh huh.” when your hand slips between your legs to capture your clit beneath your fingers, he notices and pushes them away to replace them with his own. you’re sure you’ve reached seventh heaven when his other hand’s fingers slip past your lips so that you can suckle and busy your needy mouth with them, hardly needing another second before your joints were locking up and you were cumming with a silent moan.

you clench up tight — almost too tight. izuku’s jaw tightens and he bullies his cock past that tight barrier your pussy seems to take on as it spasms and drips a thin, pearly cream down his shaft and balls. “oh fuck.” he bends your leg further and further back until it’s almost touching your shoulder. he wants to see it — wants to see his heavy, swollen balls smack against that little clit, wants to see your pussy get battered into submission, wants to see your tummy bulge to accommodate all that he gives.

“mine,” he whispers underneath his breath as his balls draw closer to his body. “god, you’re mine. all fucking mine.”

he cums with a choked gurgle of your name. it’s surreal. iridescent stars seem to border his vision as he ruts his hips against your ass to fill you up to the brim. “shit,” he’s panting and softly whining into the top of your head, holding you as close as he can as his body breaks out into a full shudder. pleasure seems to run up and down his spine at an all time speed, he’s never felt anything like this before. “shit, baby.”

you moan softly at the warmth he brings. you can tell it’s a lot . . can feel it when your fingertips press against your lower tummy and you can hear a small slushing sound.

izuku doesn’t think he can move. his breathing’s labored and his chest feels full, but he can’t move, he’s sure of it. you both lay there for a moment, needing just a second to gather your bearings. you’re tired and you feel just a little gross with all the crying and drooling you were doing, but izuku still kisses you with everything he has within him.

it’s funny, you think.

walking hand and hand with izuku into the same convenience where this all seemed to have started the next day to buy a pan b pill. it’s funnier seeing almost the entire town’s reaction to seeing you kiss one another for the first time and you think it’s absolutely comical, come eight months later when he’s proposing to you in a field of daisies at dusk only a few acres away from the barn.

“oh my god, i hate you,” you’re giggling while staring down at him on bent knee, holding a tiny, red, velvet box that holds a gorgeous, angled diamond with a pretty pearl right beside it — it belonged to his great grandma, he’ll tell you about a year later while you’re both cozied up underneath a blanket in your own, little cottage home. “are you sure?”

he’s smiling, all pretty and soft, with his eyes focused on yours like you were the only person on the planet, the only person that mattered. “absolutely positive.”

© COPYRIGHT. all content belongs to GUMIPAWZ! do not modify, claim, share or repost on other platforms.

i-izuku as a lifestyle dom??? say more i beg of u 🎤

yes i gladly will AHEM

so, in theory, izuku is an insanely caring person. and with that comes an innately natural sense of nurture. you noticed it before you even got with him. hell, it’s like it exuded out of him with every single one of his actions. so it feels quite easy to drift into these roles with him, allow yourself to give into these tendencies he has and whatnot.

but then you really get with him, and you quickly learn that yes, he’s nurturing, but there’s a deeper meaning to it. it comes slow at first; him taking a certain task from you. it’s almost gilded under that caring sheen again. but then it keeps going. him stopping you from reaching for things on the shelves or tutting at you and sending you away with a kiss to the forehead as he chops the rest of the vegetables for dinner. and it’s not even inherently dominant at this point, not really, but there’s just..an aura around him. like you can’t tell him no, like it’s impossible to even try to dismiss him.

things escalate rather quickly; maybe your lack of detest is what gave him the go ahead, the green light that you were fine with all of this. of him taking a sense of control. and you become very aware of a very, uhm, different side to izuku entirely.

it starts with a night out with some of his friends. you become acquainted with them rather quickly, and telling by the sweet smile on your boyfriend’s face he’s rather glad for that. but maybe you get a little too friendly with a certain redhead, having to stand a little closer to hear what he’s saying over the noise in the club. and it’s not your fault, but someone knocks you into poor kirishima, has you landing front first into his chest. and that, well that just won’t do.

it’s the first time izuku ever really acts out around you, grabs you by your belt loop n tugs you to him with a pout on his lips. “nuh uh,” he says, soft and low but just loud enough for you to hear him. “stay by me, alright, honey?” and there’s nothing harsh about it, nothing too intimidating, but his eyes. something swims behind them, swirling up like a sea of test. like an order painted green. so you nod. let deku slide his arm around your waist. listen to him.

and the more you listen, the more izuku drops these little commands or actions or words and you follow them, grant him with this sense of dominance he craves—he rewards you. he’s sweet on you, that’s obvious, and while he makes sure to remind you he holds power over you, it’s nice to treat you.

because maybe he takes you out to a gala, lets you fraternize with the other pros and chat it up while the assholes try to stare down your dress. but when he passes by you with a hand to the small of your back, giving you a look that says you need to lay off the champagne and you put it back on the tray as soon as a waiter comes by? it’s only right that he fucks your brains out in the venue’s bathroom before he delivers his speech later.

or perhaps you come to visit him in his office, soft grins and polite waves to his secretary as you reach his floor. and as his hands find their way under your clothes as you straddle his lap and he finds the lingerie he set out for you this morning? surprised you actually wore them like a good girl? he can’t help but splay you out over his desk and shove his tie in your mouth so he can eat you out till you see stars.

or it could just be around the house, just..letting him handle things. do things for you. picking out your clothes before your outings with friends. (smiling real wide n proud when you tell him how pretty it is n how you wanted to wear that shirt anyways, because he tries to pick outfit he thinks you’ll like). doing your hair or brushing it out or taking your makeup off before bed every night. taking “harder” tasks from your hands just because he can. when you give him the power for these things, let him do them, it honestly makes him a little dizzy. like some sort of power trip. but he likes when you do things with him too. assist him for simply little things around the house or when you come to his office. it’s a simple “baby, c’mere n help me with this, yeah?” but it’s kind of more than that to him. kinda like an unspoken rule you’re following.

that being said though, he doesn’t have many hard “rules” per se. i mean, sure, he doesn’t enjoy when you touch yourself and he isn’t there (unless you call him while doing it). and he isn’t too keen on letting you do things without telling him beforehand (because he gets worried if he comes home and you aren’t there). but there’s things he likes you to follow, mostly simple things that aren’t too hard: listening to him (within reason), wearing what he want you to around the house (but always consults with you first), stay close to him or in his line of sight, things like that.

and, of course, the bedroom holds a whole lot more. things he likes and prefers and wants you to do or say. he sets more rules there, more things to go by, and asks you regularly if you’d like to change them or add onto/take away from. his dom personality…amplifies in there. but all in all he still focuses majorly on nurturing. even in the bedroom. especially without. as long as you look pleased and follow basics, well, he likes that.

oh, and he loves being called sir.

izuku flirting with you at a meet and greet!!

summary: you take your nephew to meet his favourite hero, deku. he turns out to be so much more beautiful and even kinder in person. and he seems to take a liking to you…

warnings: none!

masterlist

‘pro-hero deku!’

izuku hears the high-pitched yell moments before something suddenly clamps onto his leg, making him stumble and over his feet slightly. he laughs nervously when he notices the young boy clinging onto him.

‘sunoo!’ you say urgently, before giving the pro-hero an apologetic bow. he’s taller than you expected. broader, too. ‘i’m so sorry! my nephew is just so excited to see you!’

‘you’re my favourite hero, deku! i want to be strong like you when i’m big!’ sunoo says proudly, looking up at izuku with hopeful eyes.

‘that’s alright!’ he smiles back at you before turning his attention to your nephew. ‘it’s lovely to meet you, sunoo. do you want to become a hero too?’

sunoo finally lets go of izuku, jumping in excitement when he kneels down besides him. it warms your heart to see your nephew so happy. you can tell it makes deku just as joyful. he interacts with sunoo so naturally - you’ve seen the way he is with kids on tv and social media too. has he always been this attractive?

‘uh-huh! i’m gonna to be just like you!’

‘wow, really! you’re gonna have to work real hard though, okay? study well too. and listen to the adults around you!’ izuku says and looks up at you, nodding in your direction. you smile back at him, feeling heat in your cheeks and a little tug on your heart. he has the most heartwarming smile and adorable freckles.

sunoo begins telling izuku all about his deku merchandise collection. every so often he’ll say, ‘isn’t that right, auntie!’ and beam up at you to agree with him. you’re certain you go over the one-minute mark that most meet and greets allow but izuku doesn’t seem to notice. he’s just as invested in the conversation as sunoo is, listening intently.

then, izuku stands back up to speak with you. you feel yourself melt under his soft gaze. he has the most wonderful eyes which lock with yours instantly.

before izuku can form a sentence, sunoo is begging him for a picture. you’re about to move out of the photographer’s shot before you feel a slight pull on your sleeve.

‘are you sure you don’t want to be in the picture?’ izuku says hurriedly, as if he had tugged on you without thinking. his cheeks were tinted and he had a sheepish but pretty smile. ‘it’d be such a shame…’

‘yeah, come join, auntie y/n!’ sunoo says in agreement. you smile and join them for the picture, getting a thumbs up from the photographer.

he has you and izuku stand next to each other in the first shot with sunoo at your feet. if someone unsuspecting wouldn’t have walked by, they could have mistaken you for a cute family. you feel your cheeks burn at the thought. this is supposed to be a wholesome meeting and you’re already thinking about having this man’s kids!! for the next picture, izuku picks up sunoo and you lean into them slightly, the three of you smiling brightly.

‘thank you for saving out country, deku. you’re the greatest hero. it was so special meeting you!’ you say happily before giving him a respectful bow. izuku returns the gesture shyly. you’re not sure if you saw him blink once during that interaction. he barely has time to start overthinking before remembering the terribly long queue of people waiting behind him.

you begin to walk away, hand-in-hand with your nephew when you hear someone call out behind you. it’s deku, of course, and he’s handing you a small photocard. you can see a staff member behind him, ushering him back urgently. before you can protest that you didn’t pay for one, he smiles and waves you both away. it’s a pretty picture of him, and you turn to the other blank side to see he’s written his number down hurriedly. he even added a smiley face. did pro-hero deku just give you his number?

‘auntie! what is it! let me see!’ sunoo tries to claw at it. you giggle at him, placing it into a card holder and into your bag. ‘just something i dropped, silly.’

you get home that evening and collapse on your bed. you’re giggling and kicking your feet for hours. now what kind of message are you going to start the conversation with?

i think this needs a part two.

he’s SO POOKIE OMG

— Passenger Princess

Izuku x Black! Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Headcanons of what it’s like to be Izuku’s passenger princess

TW: Slightly (but briefly) suggestive towards the end

Bakugo version here!

⇶ One of Izuku’s primary love languages is quality time, so you being his passenger princess is inevitable

⇶ He loves to be with you all the time, and he feels like running around town with you rather than by himself is the perfect way to spend his day

⇶ Riding around with Izuku is something you do at least once a week, normally over the weekend when he has to run errands

⇶ Shoots you a text first thing in the morning, telling you good morning and asking if you wanna come spend the day with him

⇶ He’s an early riser, usually waking up around 5 AM and starting his day with a good workout, so you don’t respond till hours later and he’s okay with that

⇶ He keeps his notification sound on just to make sure he doesn’t miss it when you text back, happily agreeing to come with him

⇶ Izuku immediately puts down whatever weight he’s lifting, or stops his push ups or sit ups, and replies in an instant, telling you he’ll be over in an hour

⇶ Finishes up his workout then takes a quick shower and gets dressed in some sweatpants and a random hoodie before heading out

⇶ You always tell him that he doesn’t have to, but Izuku was raised a gentleman and everytime he comes to pick you up, he’d much rather come to your apartment door to get you instead of just making you walk out to his car

⇶ Always thinks you look the prettiest in a casual outfit, and little to no make up. His heart melts everytime you greet him with a glossy lipped grin, smelling like your favorite perfume

⇶ Never fails to get a kiss from you, despite your protests and whines about how you just put on lip gloss

⇶ On top of quality time, Izuku is alllll about acts of service

⇶ Before you even go anywhere, he asks if you need anything from anywhere

⇶ Won’t take no for an answer, even if you truly don’t need anything

⇶ Takes you to breakfast before anything if you haven’t eaten yet, and pays for the both of you

⇶ Izuku then proceeds to take you anywhere either of you need/want to go

⇶ He may be the one driving, but he still follows whatever you want like a lost puppy

⇶ If you even slightly mention something about going to Target, the beauty supply, Sephora, Ulta, or even IKEA, you can bet that’s where you’ll end up next

⇶ He’s got zero self restraint, and although he’s grown out of letting people walk all over him, he’s still a people pleaser to an extent, and will try and make his loved ones happy by any means

⇶ Especially you.

⇶ Throws anything that you even glance at into the cart

⇶ Don’t even say “Aw, that’s cute,” to anything, because he’ll offer to buy it for you on the spot no matter the price

⇶ Because he grew up with a single mother who did what she could to make sure he lived well, Izuku can be hesitant to spend money

⇶ But that only applies to him spending money on himself and others spending on him

⇶ No matter how much he loves something, if that price tag isn’t pretty, he’s not getting it.

⇶ But when it comes to you? You could drag him into every luxury store on Earth, and he’d swipe his card on every item you ring up without even looking at the price.

⇶ You never make him spend crazy amounts on you of course, but he denies you everytime you try and deny him buying you things

“What? You don’t love me anymore?”

He was exaggerating, of course. He knows you love him, but he gets pouty when you don’t let him show affection the way he wants to.

“Don’t start with that, Zuku,” you rolled your eyes. “And put that back, you are not getting me that. I wouldn’t even buy that for myself for that kind of money.”

Izuku kissed his teeth in response. He could be so sassy sometimes, only he would get this riled up about not being allowed to buy someone a necklace.

“Okay? That’s you,” he argued. “I’d buy it for you, you know I will.”

Emphasis on the ‘I will’, and not ‘I would’. Izuku has always been the stubborn type, and not even you could change that about him.

“Izuku, absolutely not,” you shook your head at him.

He sighed, walking up behind you and placing the gold rope chain against your collarbone.

“C‘mon angel,” he whispered. “You were just talking about how beautiful this was and how you love it so much. Lemme buy it for you.”

He was sweet talking you now, and it was working. You hated it.

“Izu, baby,” you started, but he cut you off before you could protest again.

“You’d look so good with it,” he put the necklace on you, clasping it and turning you towards a mirror. “See? And I could get you a pendant for it, maybe put your initial on it.”

Izuku pressed a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Or even mine.”

Your face was burning up, and you huffed in defeat.

“…How much is it, again?” You asked.

Izuku smiled at you threw the mirror.

“Don’t worry about that, princess.”

⇶ If the man ever went bankrupt, it’d be because of you, but he wouldn’t even complain

⇶ As much as he loves to spoil you on your shopping trips, grocery shopping is his favorite

⇶ It feels so intimate and domestic, he seriously considers proposing to you then and there

⇶ Picking out veggies that look fresh, seeing which fruits are ripened to your liking, and buying extras of things just because they’re on a good sale

⇶ Groceries are always your last activity of the day, just because you always run around doing so much, Izuku doesn’t want to have fresh food sitting in his car for hours on end

⇶ But he always loves walking around with you from aisle to aisle looking for what you need and checking off the grocery list

⇶ Once again urges you to get anything you need or want, and still won’t take no for an answer

⇶ Sometimes, you just pick up a pack of gum or some candy at the register so he stops asking

⇶ Izuku never wants to leave you when the day is coming to an end, so you always go back to his place to put away groceries and cook some dinner together while he convinces you to stay the night

⇶ He’s lucky he’s a pretty boy that’s got a way with words, otherwise, all his sweet talking would never work

⇶ You already have everything you would need at his house. Shower supplies, your usually lotion and other moisturizers, clothes, and more bonnets than anyone needs

⇶ And of course there’s two of every bonnet, just so he can match you

⇶ After dinner, you take a shower together

⇶ Aside from Izuku not knowing how to keep his hands to himself when he offers to wash you, showering with him is relaxing and endearing

⇶ He holds you whole hot water runs over you both, fixes your shower cap so your hair doesn’t get wet, and lets you wash his face for him

⇶ On top of your matching bonnets, you have matching pjs as well, and a lot of your sets are hero themed, naturally

⇶ Izuku lights up a vanilla scented candle, then gets an assortment of snacks from the kitchen while you pick out a movie or a show to binge watch

⇶ And after a long, hard, and oh so draining day of sitting pretty in Izuku’s passenger seat while he buys you anything and everything, you fall asleep on the couch with him, curled under a blanket, and wrapped in his arms <3

—

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Could you write a fanfic of camgirl and izuku

hMMm, i mean, why not?

here’s a lil’ continuation of this post, the idea comes straight from my darlin’ moot @darkmajesty-xo

pro-hero! deku! izuku midoriya! x cam girl! fem! reader

summary: it’s finally time for deku to exact his revenge on a sweet little cam girl he’s been watching since she started, who’s been making /horrible/ assumptions about his character in bed.

warnings: smut, smut, and more smut, deku’s kinda mean? i’m not spoiling anything, she/her pronouns.

A Savior In More Ways Than One.

@cumguzzler12: woah, who’s that???

@bbwlover6: you’ve never had guest stars before, did you hire a deku impersonator???

@69positions: fuck, i wonder what he looks like…

DEKU peaks at the second monitor you have set up specifically for looking at comments as well as the incoming tips that are sent, a dry chuckle coming from him as he briefly reads through them.

“Mmm… Should I show them my face, doll? I’m not sure, might ruin everyone’s fantasies of your ‘subby lil’ bitch boy.” He parrots to you, mimicking what you’ve said in one of your past streams, the grip on your throat tightening ever-so-slightly. He licks his lips and enjoys the sound of your gasp, looking down at you as you sit in your gaming chair you often use for streaming, still dressed in your outfit for the day that he’s drooled over more than once.

Deku stands behind the chair, the only thing that’s visible in the camera is you and his hand that’s still around your throat, looking more like an accessory than an actual human hand.

“Why don’t we get this started then, hm? Today, I think we’ll do things like your usual streams. Let’s see what we’re gonna shove in that sticky cunt of yours, hm?” The bodiless hand slips from your throat and the sound of footsteps are soon heard. With his hand gone, the bruises on your neck are put on display for all your viewers to see, the reddening imprint of his hand clearly there even on your (s/c) skin.

As quickly as he’s gone, is as quickly as he’s returned, the sound of the gaming chair creaking is then heard as he leans over the back of it, looking down at you with one of your many dildos in his hand. You lean your head back against the headrest of the chair to look up at him with widened eyes, shivering at the smirk that’s present on his face. Then, your gaze shifts to the thickest, hyper-realistic Deku dildo you have in your collection.

“Think you could be a good girl and suck on this for me, princess? Can’t have it going in dry now, can we?” He coos, wagging the fake dick around in your face before he dangles it in front of your face for you to take, which you do, gulping as you wrap your fingers around the silicone object. He grins at your compliance, continuing to peer down at you as you stare up at him.

“Ah no no no. Don’t look at me, baby, look at your audience. Show ‘em how you’d suck your favorite hero’s cock.”

You become undoubtedly shy, the sultry timber in his voice punching you right in your core as you slowly look away from him to look into the camera. Were you really about to do this? Why did you feel so shy all of a sudden? And so so so fucking horny.

He watches you in the view finder in the corner of your main monitor, taking note of your flustered state and the bewildered look in your eyes. Then, slowly, you lift the dildo to your lips and began to twirl your tongue around the head, looking into the camera with a half-lidded gaze. Deku watches every flick of your tongue, the heavenly sucking noises soon filling his ears as he feels his cock stir in his hero suit. Oh, forgot to mention, he didn’t even change out of it when he invited himself over to your apartment, it was almost like he had planned for this happen. (spoiler alert, he did.)

As he’s enjoying the show, he continued to lean on the back of the chair with one arm and uses the other to palm at his cock, rubbing his gloved hand over it in slow, tantalizing motions.

After giving you a little time to wet it, he chuckles, suddenly reminding you of his presence as you squeak in surprise, consequently shoving the dildo a little too deeply into your mouth which causes you to gag for a split second before quickly removing the silicone object. “Think you’ve sucked it enough, haven’t you? Take everything off, we’re just getting started after all. Hurry up now, don’t wanna keep your fans waiting, right?” A new wave of nervousness washes over you as you set the spit-covered dildo down onto the desk in front of you, shimmying around in your chair to slide your bottoms and panties off, propping your legs up on the arms of your chair to give your viewers the perfect view of your glimmering folds. Then, like the good girl you are, you waited for Deku’s instructions, your excitement was apparent considering how you were basically dripping onto your chair, your wetness glistening in the natural light that’s coming from the only window in this room. Before you can even say a word, you’re completely thrown-off with the harsh slap that’s delivered right on your pussy, sending a jolt of electricity throughout your body as you jerk upwards in your chair, your core chasing after the unexpected stimulation, followed by a whine. He moved his hand away from your cunt and takes a good look at your sticky nectar on the fabric of his hero gloves. He makes a scissoring motion in front of the camera, stifling a chuckle at the sight of the bridges of your stringy arousal, that looks like transparent honey.

“Fuck… look at how soaked you are. Sucking a fake dick got you this wet? Can’t wait to see just how much wetter you can get with a little more stimulation. Pick it up. I wanna see you cum on it. Can you do that for me, doll?”

The viewers watch in interest as you obey the impersonator’s words without hesitation, picking up the dildo again to teasingly nudge at your clit with it. But then, in a moment of clarity, you realize that you’ve actually never used this one. It’s mainly because it’s way too thick! You weren’t sure you’d even be able to feel pleasure being stuffed with this thing.

He notices your delayed reaction as you suddenly stop circling your clit with the dildo, frozen in place like you’d just hd a realization dawn upon you. “What’s the matter? Feeling shy?”

You shake your head, licking your drying lips as you manage to voice your concerns in a tiny voice. “‘s too big… It won’t fit.”

The deep laugh that erupts from the man standing behind you makes a shiver run up your spine, the chair shaking simultaneously with the subtle shudder of his laugh.

“If you can’t handle this then, what makes you think you can take the real thing, sweetheart?”

“…w-what…?”

Then he fucking sighs. It sounds like he’s disappointed, making you pout a little from hearing it. You didn’t want your favorite hero to be disappointed in you, but you also didn’t want to be split in half $so soon.$

“My patience is running thin, baby. I guess I’ll help you out. Get up for a second.”

From an outsider looking in, the camera shows your trembling form getting up and then the chair is pulled back. Wait, does this mean the impersonator is going to show his face?? The tipping/chat monitor starts lighting up with words and tips that adds up to enough to pay for your rent for the next few months. Your adoring fans want to see what this man looks like. Is he as hot as his voice sounds???

One can imagine the disappointment the audience has when the mystery man takes a seat and the only thing visible is him from the neck down, the camera was positioned just right to keep his face hidden. Then they watch as he pats his thick fucking thighs that look strong enough to crush a watermelon between them, signaling for you to come and have a seat on his lap, which you do, nearly fainting right then and there as you press your back against his muscular chest, hook your legs over his knees, and display your weeping cunt, your rising and falling chest, and your flustered face. To top it all off, your head is resting on his shoulder, your gaze resting on the camera, feeling the bulge of his pants pressing directly against your bare ass.

He takes the dildo from your hand and shows it to the camera, deciding to mock your incompetence.

“Look at this folks. You’re little Deku dumpster doesn’t think she can take this. No worries though. What kind of hero would I be if I didn’t help her accomplish her goal?”

He taps the head of it onto your lower lips, making you jump with each pressured smack and chuckles, the sound coming from directly beside your ear. Then he whispers into it, rubbing the dildo right up against your clit in a mess of circles that seemed frantic, but also had a rhythm to them. “Ready princess?”

Why would he ask you that and not wait for an answer? You were caught off-guard by him suddenly pushing the tip into you, a strangled moan escaping your mouth as you threw your head back against his shoulder, grabbing onto his forearm to try and stop him from pushing it in any further.

“Woah! Wait… s-slow.. slow… down!” You pleaded, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. Either he had cotton in his ears or he was just straight up ignoring you because the next thing you know, he’s slipping it in further, bullying it into you despite your breathy protests as your chest heaves, squeezing his arm as you felt your toes curl.

“Ah, my poor girl. C’mon princess, you have to take it. You don’t wanna disappoint me or your fans now, do you? Do a good job and I’ll give you exactly what you’ve been begging for. But you’ve gotta do what I ask first. Can you give your hero what he needs?”

He says, his voice making you turn to look up at him, your eyes glazed over with tears. He smiled, waiting for you response. Seeing this, you hesitantly nodded and he raised an eyebrow, thrusting the dildo a little deeper into you, speaking a little more sternly this time around.

“Use your words, I know you can.”

Your hiccuped rather pathetically and spoke up, nodding your head at him. “Y-yes! I.. I can, Deku.” He was more than happy to see how eager you were to follow every beck and call.

“Good girl. Now, gimme a kiss, princess.”

That was— unexpected, you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and it was hard to hide your shock. But, your excitement always seemed to shine through as you giddily leaned up and pressed a kiss onto his awaiting lips.

Unfortunately for your viewers, they were unable to see the tender kiss shared between the two of you, however, they did get a clear view of what came next.

While you were distracted and rapidly melting into the soft, pillowy lips of the on-and-off again #1 hero, you failed to notice the movement of his wrist that was currently holding the dildo until it was far too late. He thrusted it all the way into you at once, making you yelp in shock, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you were stuffed full of the deku-themed-dildo.

That was only the beginning.

The split-second you were allowed to adjust and catch your breath after suddenly being intruded upon by the monstrous silicone object, was forgotten, when he began to thrust it in and out of your gushing pussy with one hand, using the other to tap and lightly twist and rub your bundle of nerves like it was his full-time job.

The stimulation that resulted from the heated movements of both his hands, and the fabric of his glove adding extra friction to the toying he was doing with your clit, made you squirm around on his lap, attempting to run away from his eager hands. With ease, whenever you tried to slip away from him, he’d pull you right back to his chest and continue his abuse on your poor flower. He alternated between pumping the toy in and out of you quick and fluttering to slow and intense, while also keeping his other hand busy tenderly toying with your clit.

Before you knew it, you could feel a heat in the pit of your stomach begin to unwrap itself like a present, and you were gonna feel like it was Christmas morning when he was done with you. Over and over again.

The dildo hit your g-spot repeatedly, while his covered digits rubbed an array of shapes on your clit, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through your lower body and spread its way through your nerves like an earthquake. Until, finally, you felt it.

Although he was unable to tell just how close you actually were, he did notice the subtle hesitant your walls were presenting, along with the much louder sounds of your squelching cunt, a grin spread across his face.

“Ah. Are you close already, princess?~ Cum for me.”

He begins to press his thumb against your clit, thumbing over it like he’s flipping through the pages of his favorite book, forcing more and more mewls of pleasure from your lips as he plays you like a fiddle. He rips the first orgasm out of your body without slowing his pace or listening to your begs for him to let you catch your breath. He’s far too busy guiding you into yet another groundbreaking climax that has you forgetting where you are, who’s watching you, who’s doing this to you, and how you should be keeping your voice down. Especially with you shaking and crying, covered in a layer of sweat that’s starting to soak into Deku’s hero suit, along with the pool of slick that’s dribbling out of your sorry cunt and staining the crotch of his pants— your juices seeping right through the material as well as his boxers, in turn, giving his cock a little sneak peek of just how soaked his actions have left you.

Just like he promised, he pulled out a couple more orgasms from you and finally pulled his hands away. Despite begging him over and over again to give you a break, when he finally pulled away, an involuntarily whine slipping from you as you wished the smooth velvety sensation of his glove and the fullness that the dildo had provided you with. After taking the toy from your cunt, he playfully wiggles it around in front of the camera, laughing childishly at how flimsy it is, but then, he slams the sticky bottom of it onto your desk like a trophy. “You did a good job, baby. I knew you could take it. I’m proud of you.” He soothingly comments, rubbing his hands up and down your sides in a comforting way before he’s grabbing you by your hips and lifting you up, forcing you to stand on your feet. He soon follows after and stands up, suddenly pushing the chair away from in front of the camera and your desk, standing rather triumphantly as he looks down at your tired face and your near-buckling knees.

“On your knees pretty girl.”

He coos, watching as you move like a struggling deer, slowly dropping down onto your knees in front of him and grabbing onto his pants to support yourself, not wanting to fall over since your head was still spinning from the multiple orgasms. Deku was giddy. Why wouldn’t he be? He was living his own fantasy as well as yours.

“Pull it out and show me what you’ve got.” He further instructed, watching as your shaky hands move to slide up his pants legs, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath his suit, until finally reaching the buckle of his utility belt which also serves as an actual belt for his pants. You quickly undo the buckle and pull them down a little until his cock springs out, giving you a clear view of his thickened length that looks scarily similar to the dildo he’d just fucked you with. The only difference was that his actual tip was just a little bit pinker than the fake. Man, some Deku fans really did their research. They even got the veins in his heavy balls nearly down to a T.

You were salivating, and staring.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare or do I have to do everything myself? Tch.”

He clicked his tongue like a disappointed mentor before grabbing onto the sides of your head, and without remorse or any ounce of holding back, he slips his cock between those pretty lips and grins down at you with a sinister look in his eyes that is not befitting of a man who’s the #1 hero.

Your fans watch in awe as your fantasy, minus the blood, is shown on the screen. Even if this guy was an impersonator, he was nailing the impersonation all-the-way, though no one ever expected Japan’s mochi to be such an aggressive… fucker.

He pounds your mouth like his life depends on it, sliding his cock back and forth over your tongue until he’s had his fill.

“Don’t take your eyes off me. Let me see that pretty face, princess… Yeah, yeah, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so good to me.”

His sweet talking would have almost made you swoon if he wasn’t fucking your skull like there was no tomorrow, his hips moving with velocity that every time he hits the back of your throat you can only see black spots and snow.

Gazing down at you with a lovesick look in his eyes, his smiles becomes lazy and flirtatious as he continues holding your head in place, continuing his abuse on your throat, his balls hitting your chin with every piston of his hips.

This continues for a bit longer, the camera catching every second and every frame of you being used like a toy by this “impersonator” but honestly, it’s just you and Deku in the moment, sharing in a fantasy of being used and being the one using.

Your hands had somehow found their way, gripping onto his thighs to keep yourself from flying back with his powerful thrusts, and you managed to keep eye contact with him all through, though your vision was blurred with tears. Suddenly, you felt a pulsing sensation in your mouth as Deku groans and rolls his head back, a low and long curse coming from his mouth as he reaches closer and closer to his release.

“Haaah… ‘m close. Gonna come in your mouth, pretty girl…” He announces, speeding up just a tiny bit more so he fill your throat with his seed. Besides the ringing in his ears, the chorus of the slurping noises coming from you in combination with the sound of his groans and the hurried string of mumbled praises that escape your hero’s mouth. He continues for just a little while longer until his pace starts to slow down, thrusting himself as deeply into your mouth as possible, before he grunted out something incoherent and filled your mouth with the taste of him. Once he’s completely dumped his load into your mouth, forcing you to swallow every drop of it, he rides out his release by fucking your mouth just a little more, just a tad bit slower this time.

Then, when he felt like it, he pulled out of your mouth, chuckling at the audible ‘pop’ noise resulting from his quick pull back, the recoil of his cock nearly smacked you across the face but he leaned back a little to stop it from doing so. He then smiled sweetly down at your cockdrunk face, realizing that he may have went a little overboard. Noticing just how daze you seemed to be, he grinned and pulled up his pants, squatting down to suddenly scoop you up like you weighed nothing, having you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the computer.

Then, he leaned over, making sure both your face and his was visible in the camera.

“Say bye to your fans, princess.”

As soon as the chat saw his face, it was almost like the stream broke with the amount of comments that were being posted, along with the steady flow of tips.

You were far too dazed out of your mind to realize what he’d just done and didn’t even bat an eye when he ended your stream and turned off your desktop. He then carried you out of your streaming room to go and find your bedroom.

He knew for a fact that his PR team was going to have him by the balls as soon as he turned his phone back on, but for now, he’d prefer to bury them deep inside you beforehand. Maybe even more than once.

I’m obsessed with the idea that pro-hero Deku is big. He is at least 6’4 and is made of muscle, thick thighs and arms all leading to a sturdy chest. Standing next to him makes you feel so small and you love it. He’s a protector, and you’ve never felt more safe than when you’re with him, held tightly to his chest by those strong arms. You adore that you can be surrounded by so much man, so much hero. You’re not the only one that likes the size difference though. Deku absolutely adores how he towers over you, seeing how small your hands are compared to his, how you barely reach his chest. He loves it even more when you’re fucking, holding your knees to your chest and thrusting into you with hard snaps of his hips. You just look so tiny under him, so easy to hold down and have his way with. Seeing how big his hand is when placed against your throat makes him so hard it hurts. He feels a little guilty that he has these thoughts, but seeing you overcome with pleasure because of him makes the pro feel better. After all, you’re clinging to him with all the strength you have, calling out his name and asking for more. All he can do is give a breathless chuckle, “You know I’ll give my pretty baby anything she asks for.”

Even years after high school, Deku still holds his boyish charm, flashing that pretty smile at you whenever his eyes land on yours. He also remains so very sweet, fondly doting on you and showering you in affection. Truly, Izuku treats you like gold, and you honestly couldn’t ask for a more caring partner. Though he still holds many traits from his younger years, you can’t help but notice the ways he’s changed. As his experience with hero work grows, Izuku becomes increasingly more confident in his abilities. On the battlefield, his shyness melts away, leaving behind an imposing man who wields deadly power and determination. So, you really shouldn’t have been surprised that this confidence would make an appearance in the bedroom. Izuku is a giver, but he won’t allow this kindness to grant you false hope about who’s in charge. He’ll remind you that he’s calling the shots by wrapping a strong hand around your throat, or by keeping you pinned beneath him on the bed, manhandling you into whatever position he desires. He’s powerful, green eyes glowing with his quirk, electricity racing across his skin. It makes you tremble to know that you’re at this man’s mercy, placing your trust in him (a trust he won’t break). He also won’t hesitate to put you in your place if you’re being a brat, landing swift spanks against your ass as punishment. Maybe he’ll even shove his fingers in your mouth to keep you from smarting off. Gone is his typical sweetness, instead he’s become playful, teasing even: “C’mon, honey, don’t you want to be a good girl for daddy? I promise I’ll treat you real nice if you do as you’re told.”

help

the way pro-hero izuku midoriya makes my strength kink act up is genuinely insane

good lord he is so fucking big as a pro i just know it in my heart. he’s so so big and so strong too - got large calloused hands that work you like a fiddle, he could carry you on his arm like a baby and doesn’t hesitate or flinch when he does. please don’t even start with the “im too heavy bullshit” because he highly doubts it. have you seen what he reps? like.. regularly? not deadlifts but good old fashion crunches and curls. he has to get custom weights for just one hand because the one he uses just don’t seem to be heavy enough. 

he’s so big and sweet and pretty. it goes both ways yknow? he’s big enough to cage your entire body with his with a warm smile and a soft grunt. his hands will push your thighs to your ears and he doesn’t have to try at all to keep you right where he need. to take his stress out on your pussy and stretch you out so good - squirting around him cause he’s so big and you cant help. cant help but whine and whimper as he whispers about how rough he’s being but he can’t help it. 

he just loves the way your thighs dimple under his fingers when he fucks you. loves being able to hold the entirety of you up for however long to fuck you deeper. he’s so so so strong - he could do absolutely anything. he can lift a car - you’re not even a warm up in comparison. 

n then on the other hand, if you wanna take control  - he does everything for you. he could break of restraints, he could move, he could squirm - but boy oh boy, does our bring strong hero loving pleasing his baby. loves letting you do as you please and listens just because he can. the sensation in your gut when you know he’s follow rules. god just.. big strong izuku… big strong soft man 

cw: minors dni. smut. reader with body image concerns.

izuku's hips slow to a rolling stop nearly the second you whimper, "c-can we turn the lights off?"

the words are eked out semi-breathlessly, but heard loud and clear, and the tight hold he has around your body loosens ever so slightly as he pulls his upper half from atop of you and leans back so that he can look at your face properly and figure out what prompted that sudden request. he's doing the opposite of what you want him to do right now - studying your lust-warmed face carefully as you catch your breath, a small pout on his lips. the way he looks at you now makes you feel a little too seen, rather far too seen, and your hands reflexively go to your eyes to cover them - not because you don't want to see him, all broad shoulders and perfect, unforgiving musculature, but because you don't want him to see you for the terribly plain being you are.

izuku's hands trace the length of your hips and cup your thighs gently, kneeling as he sits on his calves. he's still inside you, and the full sensation is manageable now even if it still makes you crazy; you can feel him twitch as he thinks, not ready to disconnect.

"yes, but why?"

you whisper something unintelligible under your breath, and he leans in, kissing your forehead, before he pulls your wrists away.

"mm?" he asks. he's smiling down at you, but you can sense a little bit of concern for your mental state, his fingers still running along your exposed skin to attempt to rub in some sense of comfort.

your lips move again, and he pulls one of your hands to his own lips to kiss the knuckles before prompting you to speak louder.

"speak up, my love."

something about the way he slips your thumb into his mouth and looks at you so lovingly, so full of desire specifically for you, overwhelms you and tears form in your eyes.

"i don't feel pretty," you finally cry.

izuku blinks as though he's in disbelief, but the message is clear, and he slips out of you just as quickly as your sobs start to come in for real, and he's got you in a secure embrace.

"but you are," he insists, and he's thumbing your trembling lower lip. you're embarrassed to say it out loud, that you don't see why he sees you the way he does, even if it's not your responsibility to deserve the way he loves you.

you shake your head, and he purses his lips, then kisses your eyelids.

"you're beautiful. you're perfect for me," he insist, but it's hard for you to hear it. all you can remind yourself of is every irregularity to your skin, the way your body falls short to models and other heroes, and everyone else he would be barely off looking at.

he pulls you close and lets you rest in his embrace. a few moments pass, and he strokes your hair and listens to everything that you feel is wrong with you, and even though it hurts him, he lets you say whatever you need to say before denying it.

kisses pepper your skin and deny your imperfections; you let him wind you up more, whispering your beauty into every curve of your body until you start to believe it, until you'll accept him again.

"let me look at you," he pleads, and you nod, letting him intertwine his fingers with yours. the tears are back but they're happy now, thankful, as he fucks you deep, your legs rested on his head, trying to reach the deepest, darkest parts of you.

because you are the prettiest and your beauty is so plain to see.

izuku follows you EVERYWHERE

- you'll never lose him at the mall, he can practically sense when you're not around him

- he just really wants to be around you, LOVES to be around you :(

- talking to you, holding you, ughh <3

- when you get up from the couch to grab a snack, there he goes! right behind you

- when you go to wash up in bathroom, there he is, right in the reflection of the mirror

- if you're in the shower, he'll personally invite himself in to no avail

- "Oh, you're going to shower? Then...can I shower with you..?"

- even times where you really need to be alone

- "Izuku, c'mon now. You know I have to finish filling out these papers. Even one minor error could disrupt the entire thing." He stops kissing the side of your face and rolls your chair around to face him.

- "But...I love you..." He's giving you that look, that same look that you always give into, but this time you were going to hold your. At least you thought you would. "Can't I just stay here? I'll just be right here on our bed!"

- "...I want to say yes, but even your presence in your room distracts me."

- "...Is that a good thing?"

- "Of course! You know I'd rather be in your arms than doing this, Izuku."

- regardless, he knows when to give you space

- he can sense when times are different

- other than that, always expect him to be right in arms reach

support me? :)

🍬 candy drip !!

syn. izuku can’t believe he finally has you. it’s only fair he spoils you to say thank you.

cw. we fuckin fuckin! reader has a lil happy weight on her. loads of pet names. daddy kink. sir kink. yeah there’s both 🥴. size kink if you REALLY squint. not really mean deku but he’s moreso a little strict. very much dom deku content. fem reader.

note. back to my roots with this one! iykyk! also this was written ambiguously but with black reader in mind.

inspo. candy drip - lucky daye // too deep - dvsn

all those years spent pining after you were worth it.

he remembers them fondly. the nights spent having to watch you deal with your boyfriend who barely even deserved you. that one time you two broke up and he descended on you as fast as acceptably possible. how mad he was when he inevitably fucked things up, chased you right back into your boyfriend’s arms. how lost he felt after you lost contact for years. the joy he felt when you randomly popped up on twitter again and followed him.

and now look at you. look at what izuku’s made of you.

in the few short months that you two were together izuku’s impact was obvious. from the way your body filled out, the way your skin shone and smile beamed brighter every day. he’d do nothing to hide his smiles when you told him you couldn’t fit in your jeans anymore, how dresses would tear at your hips, how skirts couldn’t get over your ass. that’s happy weight, your friends would say, and he’d watch as you roll your eyes and mock them, but he didn’t need to see color on your cheeks to know you were blushing everytime they said it.

izuku thinks he’s obsessed with you. surely love isn’t powerful enough a word. you mention you want something and he’s pushing his wallet in your pockets in seconds. you say you’re having a bad day and suddenly he’s called out of work, his baby’s far too important and there are other heroes around to keep the city safe. you’re hungry and he’s ordering your favorites while you tell him you don’t know what you want to eat. you’re whiny, flustered and frustrated and well, he knows how to deal with that too.

“there she is. there’s my honey girl.” he kisses the nape beneath your ear with a content smile. his large, calloused hand thumbs circles into your pudgy tummy, occasionally massaging the doughy flesh appreciatively. “you can be so needy for daddy’s touch sometimes but never know how to just ask for it.”

it’s not like he could say no. you ask him all the time, zuzu, be a little mean with me. rough me up a little. and he tries, he wants to, but that sweet little voice you call his name in, the way your angel pussy opens and welcomes him, it softens him every time.

how can he be mean to the sweetest girl ever?

“sh-shouldn’t have to.” you mutter, head lolling back to his shoulder. your back arches outwards and he watches your pretty tits shudder with the force of your beating heart. by nature, a curse slips from his rosy lips, saliva accumulating in his mouth.

“yeah?”

how can he be mean? shit. you make it so easy sometimes.

the fingers circling your clit stiffen to tap it. gentle this time, hard enough to just sting and make you gasp, make those pretty eyes pop open. it’s good, means you can watch him grab your face and guide your mouth open. on instinct you even stick your tongue out for him. there’s his good girl.

“shouldn’t have to? sure that’s what you wanna go with?” izuku loves watching your face. his tone switches a little and suddenly your eyes are wide and rounded off. there’s not a thought in your head and he feels your pussy throb beneath his fingers. look at his girl go.

“hm?” he asks, tapping your cheek when you don’t respond. “that’s what you’re going with pretty girl? you know better than that with me.”

he spits directly onto your tongue, smiling when you swallow without instruction. your eyes are glossy, lips swollen and rosy from kissing minutes prior. he raises an eyebrow, chuckling a bit when you still don’t respond. “because you know me, right? daddy doesn’t like when you don’t tell him what you want.”

izuku’s fingers feel good between your folds. they must, from the way your breathing catches as he swipes his index up and down from your clit through your seam. the sound is soft and ever welcomed, gentle, sloppy noises from your pretty cunt sounding sweet in his ear. his cock throbs beneath you, tucked up hard and leaking in his briefs.

“mhm.” you say absentmindedly. he tuts, tapping your pussy a little harsher this time before rubbing four fingered circles into your messy little bud.

“you know better than that.” his voice is firmer. “answer me again. properly this time.”

“yes sir.” your response is immediate. izuku’s heart flutters.

sir. she’s calling him sir today.

“what do you want pretty girl?”

he watches as you struggle, fighting through the clouds of your mind. “to cum.”

“hm.” izuku switches to his index, flicking your clit around, smirking when your legs twitch and kick outwards. “want me to make you cum.”

you nod first, finding your tongue when his pace slows. “yes sir. please sir.”

“with what?” your hips jut forward and you whine in discontent. izuku’s sticky hand slaps firm, fast and hard on your inner thigh. “with what, princess.”

you find your words again. “your cock. please. i need to cum on your cock.”

sinking into your pussy makes izuku delirious. your walls greet him excitedly every time, plush and warm and alive as it opens and tightens and hugs his veiny cock in earnest. he loves it, can’t help but press a kiss on your shoulder blades, big hands holding your hips steady. your shoulders sink into the duvet, arching up that ass nice and high for him until he smacks it in appreciation. to show gratitude, your pussy clamps down around his tip, and you both moan in unison.

“my girl’s got such a good pussy.” izuku’s never able to hold his tongue inside you. he babbles too much, driven near insane, and the less coherent the thought, the harder he’s plowing into you. his balls slap against your clit in mere seconds, your choppy squeals and mewls gassing him to go further. he catches sight of your pretty pink nails digging into the duvet covers and adjusts his stance, rooting one foot onto the bed and driving your hips back to meet his strokes. his cock fits in deeper, his eyes rolling around, tongue lolling and panting out like a dog until he’s whining like one too.

“good girl, good girl, taking all ‘a my cock.” he pants. “pussy’s so fuckin— shit, ‘s so good mama. so fucking good.”

you’re babbling nonsense into the sheets, and the giggle from your boyfriend that reaches your ears makes your eyes cross and cunt clench up so tight it nearly pushes him out. izuku moves his hands to your back and arches you further, raising on his toes to angle down into you and fuck you right in that spot you both like.

he succeeds.

“oh!” you cry out. you gasp and shudder and claw, kicking your feet in vain while his big cock bullies hard into you. “oh, oh izu! there, there! ‘s- so good right there, please!”

“yeah?” the smirk on his face is evident in his voice. he keeps his stance fierce and rigid, sweat dripping from his brow as sounds of your sloppy pussy ring loud in the room. “i know pretty girl, i know. know this pussy well, honey. you’re gonna cum for me?”

“mhm!” you whine through bitten lips, too lost in that quickly building feeling churning deep in the bellows of your tummy. you’re so caught up, too caught up, that when izuku pulls out of you and abruptly gives you a harsh slap on your pussy hard enough to bring tears to your eyes, you gasp and keen in the same breath.

his big hand curls around your neck and pulls you up in moments. you’re blinking rapidly, chest racing, and his hand finds your pussy to slap it again rapidly while his lips find your ear.

“pretty girl, how do you address me?” his voice is low and stern. you clench up, pitifully around nothing, though the feeling of his hot, hard cock against your ass does nothing to sedate you. instinctively you push back into it, but a harsh slap to your inner thigh stills you again as tears build in your waterline. “don’t make me ask you again.”

“yes sir!” you gasp out. he hums appreciatively.

“you wanna cum on my cock right?” another yes sir. “then you’ll behave. good girls get to cum on my cock, princess.”

“yes sir.” your lips are wobbling now. “please, sir, m so close, i just- i just need—“

“this?”

izuku pushes into you steady and mindbreakingly slow. he holds you in place, thumbing around your clit in slow, calculated circles, matching the pace of well aimed strokes knocking deep within your center. he borders on too deep every time but fuck it feels so good.

“yeah, yeah!” you fall slack in his hold but he keeps you upright and steady. “this, sir, yes! thank you, fuck, thank you, thank you—“

“cum on my dick princess. be my good girl and cum for me.”

it’s beautiful. you’re beautiful. the way you give yourself to his demands, listen at the drop of a dime like he’s pavloved you. he tells you to cum and you do it. your body runs slack and your walls tighten, then suddenly they fall slack too. his strokes sound squishy and sloppy, creamy cum leaking thick around his dick, coating warm over it in earnest. you cum so much and for so long, until he’s laying you gently on your tummy and angling deep, causing you to tremble and cum again. best of all, the name that falls from your lips as you do so.

“oh, oh! daddy! daddy! thank you, thank you— oh my-“

“that’s it.” he chuckles. “there’s my girl.”

it takes one, two, three strokes before izuku’s groaning deep in his chest. you clench up weakly around him at the sound, and it’s cute. watching your pussy fill until his cum oozes out around him. he strokes as his cock throbs and you tense up, then release again. he’s not surprised he made you squirt. he’s surprised he did it without trying. so much so that it pulls a genuine laugh out of him.

“good girl, good girl.” he kisses on you soothingly. you hiccup, still shaking in aftershock, gasping and whining. “my good girl, always. daddy’s so proud of you princess. did so fucking good for me—“

“fuck me again daddy.” you cut him off, and it catches him so off guard he smiles. your eyes are open and glassy, but the way your pussy tightens around him isn’t to be ignored.

“please.”

he chuckles. such a spoiled little thing he’s got you.

“okay pretty girl. how do you want it?”

CRAVING | izuku midoriya

“cant wait ‘til i get home so you can see.”

warnings: 18+, fem!reader, lots of praise, slight breeding, squirting, dacryphilia, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, some laughter during sex, kitchen counter sex, izu’ calls reader ‘pretty girl,’ ‘baby,’ and ‘bunny’ a lot

word count: 4k

a/n: this was originally supposed to take a whole different route with some arguing then make up sex? but i couldn’t do it, izu’s too sweet ): this + the title (obviously) was inspired by this song, however, during the sex scene, i had this song on repeat and i really dunno why. it just fit to me for some reason so, lol, yeah. enjoy! feedback appreciated. minors do not interact!

the sudden thud of the front door closing makes your shoulders jump up to your ears in a flinch. there’s a heavy sigh following it and a thrash of keys hitting the key tray before lumbering footsteps start to make their way for where you stand inside the kitchen, lower back pressed into the granite counter in front of the sink where you had only been washing the dishes a few moments ago. izuku appears in the threshold and stops there for a moment to give you an apologetic smile — worn-out and weary around the edges. his green curls are more disheveled than how they were prior to him bolting up from the dining room table two hours ago to make a break for a sudden assignment he got called in on and leaving you alone. you had finished the entire bottle of wine sitting on the table between the two plates of seared steak and roasted vegetables before you blew out the candles and grabbed the porcelain to dump clean and wash.

and now he’s back, and you . . you are standing before one another, you, still dressed in your white, long sleeved, cowl neck dress and favorite, nude rene caovilla, high heeled sandals, no longer feeling the same rush of excitement you were two hours ago to celebrate the milepost of your seven-year anniversary.

“i’m sorry.”

the words come out of his mouth soft and discordant, like he was exhausted inward and out and you can only stare. stare at how anguish and heartache lade inside the dark greens of his eyes as his shoulders slump with his dejection of knowing you were disappointed with him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats again when you don’t answer, this time a little firmer while taking a step towards you. “i keep doing this, i know. i, i’m sorry—“

“—it’s fine,” you turn to grab a napkin and rip it off the roll to dry your damp hands. “it’s fine, izuku. really, baby – it is.” you can’t express how much you mean it because it truly is okay. you’ve known since the both of you were sixteen years old that izuku would amount to great things — that he’d be a great, no, a phenomenal, extraordinary hero. it’d be selfish of you to want your fiancé here with you when out in the real world there are people who need saving, right? it’d be greedy . . and stingy . . and just downright mean to want your fiancé all to yourself for a day or two instead of just a couple hours when he’s back from work, tuckered out, sore, and spent, only bent on a hot shower and sleep, right?

you feel his arms wrap around your waist, strong and firm, nothing but sinewy muscle under scarred skin and — you can’t help it, you sigh in sweet content and tilt your head against the muscle of his pec, allowing him to kiss the area just underneath your jawline near your ear. “you can be angry with me, y’know?” he mutters into the skin. “don’t think you have to hold it all in. i know you’ve been planning today for weeks, baby.”

you smile at his gentle sentiments and flutter your eyes open, which you hadn’t even known you closed, to turn around in his grasp and look up into his, “i’m serious. it’s fine, you’re a . .” your tiny hands slide up the stretched denim material of his hero ensemble to his shoulders to grip. “you’re a hero, izu’. you have priorities and responsibilities and, i understand. i don’t think i could ever be angry at you – especially over a situation like this.”

he’s staring at you for a long while, face unchanging aside from his eyes that are looking between yours, flicking between each iris as if he were trying to read something inside of them. and you let him; but you know he isn’t going to find anything you didn’t express palpably because your words are honest. there isn’t an angry bone in your body when it comes to dealing with the man in front of you. “why are you so perfect, hm?” his calloused palm cups the side of your face and, instinctively, your tinier one comes up to wrap around his wrist as you nuzzle into his clutch like a keening kit. “so sweet — too sweet . . why are you . . .?”

he stares again, this time with his lips turning down at the corners into a little frown. he looks . . angry almost and it makes your eyebrows dip in concern before you feel the sudden push of his lips into yours. he’s kissing you like you’re a breath of fresh air after he’s been underwater for too long — deep and only immersed in you, you, you. it makes you hiccup and stand on your tip toes with initial surprise before one of your hands is sliding across the broad expanse of his shoulders to tangle your fingers into the mess of curls that sit at the nape of his neck. “hm,” he huffs out through his nose and anchors your hips firmly between his hands to pull your pelvis into his. “so fuckin’ . . patient and understanding and . .” he makes another little sound of frustration before he’s turning on the balls of his feet to spin you back into the island that sits in the middle of the kitchen and lifts you onto it.

his words make you giggle. “isn’t that,” you’re out of breath already. “i-isn’t that a good thing, izuku?”

“ ‘s an amazing thing,” his hands cup the back of your knees to push your legs up. it’s so sudden that your hands slam on the granite behind you to catch yourself as you choke on a gasp and your ass ends up halfway hanging off of the edge. “makes me feel like i don’t deserve you.”

your bottom lip juts out in a precious pout at his words – they make your brain go a little fuzzy around the edges, too before you’re recognizing the slight tickle of his fingernails dragging up the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “perfect, lil’ housewife, too. always makin’ sure ‘m safe and careful when i leave for work,” his eyes are going a little hazy and you can admit that you’re familiar with the look he’s giving you right now. “so perfect f’me.”

he drops to his knee, all while tearing off the sheer, pine-green thong you wore to toss to the floor and spread you open wide. the action has your smooth, puffy lips gapping apart in the slightest to reveal your swollen clit peeking out from between them, neglected and needy. a pool of saliva gathers on the pad of the hero’s tongue in longing before he’s inching in close to press sweet kisses along the apex of your thigh, blinking his eyes open and up to gauge the dreamy expression laid over your face. lips parted, eyes glassy, and eyebrows cut close as if you could already feel his tongue where you needed him most.

usually he likes teasing you, likes blowing a puff of air on that swollen bud to watch you clench and whine in vexation, likes kitten licking your entrance with a smile on his face to make you sniffle and cry when you get upset with him . .

but today, he thinks you deserve every and anything you want — you always do. “want my tongue, pretty girl?” he hums his question just to be sure while his thumbs spread your thick lips farther apart to display the bale of satiny pink behind them. “hm?”

you nod and nibble on the plush, glossed skin of your bottom lip, always so shy and timid with your words. ninety percent of the time, izuku has to coax them out of you because you never sounded sweeter than when you were shyly vocalizing what you wanted him to do to you. “tell me,” he coo’d softly. “tell me what you want me to do, bunny.”

you whine and frown, wiggling your hips impatiently. “i want . . i want your tongue, izu’. want it on my clit.”

there’s heat buried in the cool greens of his eyes that stare up into yours through short, webbed lashes. heat so scalding that it makes your body buzz in longing before it’s dampening with the wide brush of his tongue from your hole up to your clit. izuku feels a shudder run up from the soles of his feet to the curls that flop atop his head at the tart, saltish taste of your sweet slick. it’s thick and drips down into the back of his throat like syrup with each lap and swallow. “izu’,” you gasp and fist the frizzy coils of his hair, holding on tight when he suctions his lips around your throbbing clit.

he’s right there.

he’s itching that itch that’s been vibrating inside the blood running through your veins for months now. your needy pussy is pulsing out pools and pools of your nectar that drips over onto his awaiting tongue and across the freckles that dot his cheeks. he looks so . . shameless, so lewd with his face between your legs, looking up at you as if he is saying ‘this is where i want to live out the rest of my days – where i truly belong,’ that it makes your slam your eyes closed in fear of cumming too fast.

“no. look at me.”

you gasp when he slides his tongue past your oozing hole to push it as far as it can go then pulls it back out. “look at me, bunny.” he does it again and you flit your heavy eyes open, whimpering at the picture he makes. you watch his thick, long tongue trace the letters of his name on the puffed pink of your clit . . over and over and over, claiming you as his forever and always. god, it’s so much. the visual, the sounds, how it feels. you throw your head back with your toes curling inside your heels, abdomen rolling and tensing with your breaths as you fight the screw hitching inside your core. “doin’ so good f’me,” he pulls his mouth away to ease his middle finger inside your cunt to the knuckle, watching your walls constrict around it as it already stretches you out. his ring finger isn’t far off and he lets them sit there for a second, let’s his palm touch your clit as his fingers curl up and down, brushing against a bundle of skin angled near the roof of your pussy that was textured and swelled.

your g spot is sensitive — a little more sensitive than average. him touching it always manages to make you squeak out a curse and fight to snap your trembling legs closed, whimpering, “wait, wait, w-wait,”

izuku kisses his teeth and pushes one of your thighs back open firmly and keeps it there, picking up a quick rhythm of pushing his fingers in and out while his tongue snakes along your clit again, dragging zigzags and swirls before he suckles it. and it’s an overwhelming mix. izuku has you right where he wants you, pinned to the granite by the simple weight of his tongue, fingers, and hand, yet you feel like the top of your head has been screwed off to allow your mind to float off into space. withal the shaking and crying and whimpering and pleads, he doesn’t allow you to move a muscle and with one last push of his fingers against your g-spot and his tongue on your clit, your cum is spraying out of you in pulsing shots, surprising you both.

“o-oh . . . god!” you fall onto the weight of your forearm with your opposite hand squeezing the strands of his curls. it’s so much . . and he’s lapping it all up, groaning low inside the back of his throat at how good you taste. “n-n’more,” you’re sniffling, a lone, inky-black tear falling off the mascara-coated lashes lining your bottom lash line. “no more, izu’, please.”

that’s when he pulls his fingers out and his face back to slowly stand and smile. “no more?” his hands press into the counter beside your body as he looms above you, wide, big, and strong, caging you in with no where to go. “you sure? i wanted to make my bunny feel good s’more.” a drop of your slick falls off of his chin and down to your moving chest as you blink up into his eyes, staring up into dilated pupils and sweet smile with something much more hungry laying beneath them both. “you’re not gonna let me do that?”

you feel his finger touch your slit with a feather light skim, but it still makes you twitch as if you had been shocked. you wanted to say something — anything, but it’s like each time you had parted your lips to say something, your brain couldn’t think of a word aside from, “pl . . please?”

izuku’s smile seems to widen. “please.” he softly repeats underneath his breath as his coarse palm wraps around the length of your throat to push your chin up and force you to meet his eyes again. “how sweet — say it for me one more time?”

you swallow and he feels it. you watch his smile fall just the tiniest bit as his grip tightens in the slightest. “. . please, izu’?”

izuku weakly whispers something like ‘my fuckin’ god,’ prior to smashing his lips into yours again as his hands pull down the shoulders of your dress to force your arms out of it and allow the mounds of your breasts to spill out. he’s peppering firm, wet kisses down the length of your neck, leaving your eyes rolling back into your skull as you hold onto the fabric of his costume, allowing him to pull away just a bit to angle his head down and take one, sensitive nipple into his mouth. he pushes both of your tits close together to trade between them both when he wants and nips, bites, and sucks, permitting you to mewl and take it. “so perfect f’me,” the thick leather of his holster wrapped around his waist drops to the floor with a loud clatter after he unbuckles it. “always so pretty and sweet and . . — god, ‘m in love with you.”

he says this while he has his hips nestled between your legs, costume pulled down halfway to his thighs to allow enough room for him to give his aching cock the freedom to spring up into the air conditioned draft floating within your home. you go heart eyed at the view of him — thick, hard, and uncut. “c-can i . . .?” you never finish your question because your hand is slithering between your bodies to use your thumb to pull the soft skin back and rub it over his weepy tip. you gather just enough of his precum to coat the pad of your thumb before you’re bringing it up to your lips and laying it over your tongue, laving up the salty tang you consider yourself obsessed with for years now. “oh god.”

you hadn’t even known you closed your eyes while savoring the taste until you bat them open again and take in izuku’s slack mouthed stare. he doesn’t think he can hold himself back anymore because he’s crowding over you again while wrapping an arm around your lower back to pull your chest against his. at that point, he grabs the base of his cock to tap against your fat, messy pussy, adoring the wet clicks it makes with each one. his veins are thrumming with rushing blood, making his tip much more red and sensitive that normal. he’s already moaning while circling it around your little hole, still wet and messy from your cum and his saliva. “open just a little wider f’me — there you go.” he’s popping the head of his dick pass that first band of muscle and you’re already keening and sinking your acrylic nails into the meat of his biceps. “ouu, good girl.”

“i-izu’,”

he shushes you and pushes in an added inch ahead of pulling his hips back and working in another. it’s a process that gets your walls loosening and welcoming all eight inches of him happily only seconds later. and when his balls are pressed against the soft skin of your puckered taint, he holds the bottom of your jaw in his hand again to slant your pretty face back up to his and kiss the pout off of your lips.

with a distraction set in place, he picks up a slow rhythm . . pulling out carefully and rolling his hips back in. it makes you gasp into the warmth of his mouth, feeling your body melt with each thrust he gives you as your pussy clamps down on him, “ ‘s . . it’s big, izuku,” you whimper, looking up at him underneath your lashes.

“shh, i know, baby, i know – just gotta relax. you gotta open u-up for izu’,” he licks his thumb and presses it against your clit to rub it in steady circles.

you’ve never been one to hold in your moans. you welcome the two, contrasting feelings of the pain and pleasure of his cock bullying it’s way deeper and deeper inside your tiny cunt and the swirls bore down on your bud with cute hiccups and moans of his name, leaning back onto one of your palms to give him more room to work with.

izuku’s dazed off of you — eyes half lidded, lips parted to emit heavy breaths, and sculpted abdomen tensing when he starts to pick up a quicker pace. “there you go,” he groans and looks down to watch your walls drag against the shaft of his dick each time he pulled out like you didn’t want to let him go. “f-fuck, you feel . . so fuckin’ good.”

there’s loud squelches mingling in with the thick clapping of skin booming off the walls inside the kitchen. your tits bounce with the hard pounds he’s pressing into your body and you can’t help but fall back on your forearm, legs lifting higher as you do. “d-deeper, izu’, deeper,”

“deeper?” he gathers the back of your thighs inside of his large hands to bend and press them against your chest, angling his body slightly over yours to push his cock faster and further into the tight cove of your cunt with his full, heavy balls slugging and pounding into the furrow of your asshole now. you’re incapable of words, just pathetic sounds of ‘ngh, hng, ah, o-oh god.’ you wrap your own arms around the back of your thighs to keep them in place and hold still while his tip starts to dig into that pretty, little burrow inside you that makes spit gather inside your mouth and drive your brain empty.

izuku notices this. he smiles above you again, curls bouncing on his forehead and voice breathless when he asks, “mm, right there, pretty girl? want izu’ right there?”

there’s a halo of cream gathering at the foundation of his cock that smears and laminates the rest of the skin an angelic, pearly white. you nod, looking up at him with the dearest expression on your face — eyes wide and glassed over with your cute, little mouth open. he can’t help but push your legs out of the way to kiss you again, dipping his tongue inside to rub it over the roof of your mouth and taste the cloyingly sweet moans of his name pushing from it. “pussy’s s-so fuckin’ good,” he whines with you, having to lay one of his arms above your head to keep you from sliding up the counter with the sweat that’s starting to glisten on your lower back. “doin’ so well f’me, makin’ . . makin’ me feel so good, baby. thank you, thank you,”

“hngg — w-want . . want babies, want your babies, izu’,” you babble with him on half a mind. all you know is that you want it deeper and harder and faster and more, more, more.

something inside of izuku seems to ignite at your words, even so. makes him slide you further up just so that he can place one knee on the counter beside your hip and fuck you at a pace that has you knowing that for the next few days, you were going to need a pack of frozen peas icing your bruised pussy.

“f-f-fuck!”

you’re aware that there’s tears trickling down your temples as you’re forced to keep still and take each thrust. izuku’s huffing into the crook of your neck. “gonna give you them, g-give you anythin’ you want, bunny,” he whines. “how many, hm? tell me.”

through your haze, you manage to smile and find a little humor in the question, “w-want four,” you giggle weakly which makes him huff a little laugh, too. “four?” he croons in a soft tone while thinking. “g-gonna give you six.”

“izuuuu’,” you have to hold onto his shoulders again when his pace picks up once more and his index and middle finger join the mix to draw clumsy circles on the buzzing surface of your clit. you hear him mumbling faintly about how you’re going to look so pretty walking down in aisle to him come eight more months, how cute you’re going to be swollen with his kids as his darling, little housewife, how he was going to make you his and his only.

you cum with his promises being sweetly murmured into your ear — creamy-white, watery pulsating squirts that gushes from your pussy at the speed of a jet. “don’t stop, don’t stop, izu’ . .” you’re sobbing and bubbling his name through a coarse throat. “oh g-god, fuck,”

he’s moaning with you, dropping his hips faster and faster while driving you into overstimulation. with each splash that pushes out of you, your cunt spasms and squeezes him just the tiniest bit tighter to let it all out. he focuses on that, along with your hiccuped breaths drafting over the shell of his ear and your soft hands sliding up his back to rub through his hair. “cum f’me, izu’,” you’re whispering and it’s . . . immediate.

his eyes roll into the back of his head when the first spout of his cum rushes out from the head of his cock and inside of your womb. there’s more following — shot after shot after shot and it’s so much. there’s some already leaking from around his shaft as he shivers and keeps still, not making a move to pull out until you’re whining with the weight of him pushing your thighs right up against your ribcage. “izuku.”

he hums and manages to settle down and regain his composure about a minute later to take in your current position then blushes, “oh . . ‘m sorry, baby,” he unravels your legs to let them fall around his waist and lays his chest against yours.

you gather his face in your hands and make him look up at you, “you okay?”

he nods and kisses your lips, taking in the ruined mascara smeared along your eyes, cheeks, and temples, the messy hair, and small, wine colored bruises already starting to bloom along your neck and tits. “. . are you okay?”

the way he asks the question makes you fluster because you know you look a mess with all the crying you were doing. you smack his shoulder and huff with faux irritation, making him chuckle and kiss you once more. “so . .” he utters on the soft skin. “four kids, huh? we never talked about that.”

“six?” you roll your eyes while grinning. “please, izuku. four is the max, okay?”

he smirks, something playfully devious shining beneath those pretty, green eyes of his that makes your own squint in slight suspicion. “sure. whatever you want.”

you decide to press him for the details of his surely ‘diabolical plan’ another day. right now all you want is, “bath, dinner, and cuddles, please?”

once again, he offers you whatever your precious heart desires.

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gonna talk about unprotected sex with my favorite greenette before i go to sleep.

izuku thinks you’re so adorable when you beg him to take the condom off, when he’s fucking you so deep you have to stand on your tiptoes. and even though his cockhead is kissing your cervix, you’re teary eyed and begging him to wait, to let up just a second.

he’s kissing your shoulder, batting away the wetness from your eyes with his thumb.

“what’s the matter, honey?”

“izu take it off- i wanna feel you, please.”

he’s chuckling at your desperation, pulling one of your arms backwards, “take it off for me,” is all he says as he slips out of your cunt, and you’re quick to grab at his shaft, running your hand downward to pull at the tip of the rubbery condom. you pull until the stretchy material is pulled too far outward, nice and taut before it starts to roll down izuku’s slicked cock. when he was free from the extra layer, he maybe sure to slam right back into you, arching your back the way he likes as you drop the useless rubber to the floor.

you cry out his name over and over, eyes glazing at the feel of the ridges of his cock, bare and hot in your insides. this was what you needed, to feel all of him completely.

“awe, sweet girl, you want me to fill up this little pussy don’t you?”

the ripple going down your spine was enough confirmation.

☆

Deku having to get out of bed to get ready to go to work, but he doesn’t want to let you out of his arms so he just goes through his morning routine carrying you around on his hip

sorry. i’m having a moment.

deku will not stop staring.

you’re not sure why—before you catch a glimpse of yourself in the heart shaped mirror hung in your living room. there’s a patch—two patches, two dribbles of milk pearling through the soft white give of your halter top on either side.

oh.

your feel your whole face twist. not that he could see your pretty face with his eyes on your lactating tits. “why didn’t you tell me?”

deku’s eyes are reluctant to look away. green eyes slowly devour you, trailing up the curve of your neck to the soft little pout in your glossy lips. and then he meets your teary gaze, eyes blown and pretty as he seats them on you. izuku at least has enough sense to blush a little.

he hums when you clench at the pocket of his shirt. “tell you what, baby?”

you hiss, “that i’m fucking leaking, maybe?”

“because,” izuku’s strong, scarred hands trail gently up your back when he steps closer. he could hold you in one hand if he wanted. the number one pro hero crowds you a little, eases you back, back, back until you’re pressed into the wall beside the mirror in yours and his living room. “you get clammy and lock yourself away!”

he might be the softest yeller you know.

“i miss you,” he pleads. “it’s selfish and—,”

“you’re sensitive about—about it, i totally get that.” you hardly hear what he says when he breaks off into a mumble right after. something breathy and dark about enjoying it. his fingers tighten on you.

enjoying, what?

“you like it, though?” your voice trembles, wavers. you think your breasts might be leaking a little more now. the faster your heart, the faster it drips from your hard nipples and makes a mess of you. deku likes the mess. he likes making you a mess, likes cleaning you up when you get all doe-eyed and achy for him.

“i’d keep you here all day to myself if i could.” izuku leans down close. you feel the tough fabric of his hero suit brush against your tummy as he folds down and over you. grabs you close by the arms with the softest little press of his fingers. he takes a long inhale, eyes falling shut. izuku’s lashes beat gently against his freckled cheeks; you think he’s reminiscing on the memory of something that’s never happened. you suspect izuku plots, and has been, on how to make it happen.

“all fucking day. sweet tits in m’mouth and that mean little voice you put on when you like it t’much. when you like me too much. love when you get all weak f’r me, pretty—,”

“don’t sound like no hero to me.”

deku hums, not even looking you in the eye anymore. you swear you see little pink hearts amidst the sea of green. what a pervert your hero turned out to be. the biggest (thickest).

Izuku Midoriya who holds your legs together against his chest with one arm while he bullies his cock into you. The head of him stretching you so wide it's hard to breathe, but he knows you can take it because you have so many times before. Izuku who fucks into you like you're going to slip away from him at any second. He’s holding your legs so tightly to his chest before he gets impatient and grabs ahold of your hip so that he can shove you down on his cock as he thrusts, needing to be buried so deep inside of you that you'll never forget he was there. Every inch of him leaves you gasping for air. Your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your skull but you don't dare to look away from your monster of a husband, whose eyes glow with the promise of ruin.

“Keep your eyes on me, I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

drunk minds speak sober thoughts

cw: mdni dubcon. drunk sex. reluctant but willing reader. praise. filth. honestly don’t even read this.

the only alternative to opening my docs when horny is doing half a backflip and landing on my neck

When you open the door, he’s standing there propped on his elbow. Feet barely crossed in front of each other as he makes an attempt at posing as desirably as possible, and looking like a complete drunken fool in the process.

You raise a curious eyebrow.

“Hi.”

“Midoriya?”

“Helloo!” He greets again, and it’s tailed by a giggle as he moves forward.

“What’s-“

His arms are heavy and all surrounding as he pulls you into a hug, you nearly stumble back from how much weight he’s putting on you. Barely able to hold himself up correctly, and already dipping his head into the crook of your neck - you shiver as your friend takes in a few good whiffs of you.

Midoriya groans quietly. “Y’smell so good.”

“You smell like a distillery.” You rub his back. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Oh my god, s’much.” He giggles. And then he presses in more, kicking the door closed behind him. “Les’ have a sleepover. I’m so tired.”

He punctuates that by nearly laying all of his weight on you, giggling again when you grunt from the stress and try with all the strength you can muster to drag him to the bed.

You blow out a sigh as he bounces on your mattress from where you’ve all but thrown him, feet hanging precariously close to the floor as he stretches his arms and nuzzles into your blanket.

“How’d you even get up here like that?” You breathe.

“I took the elevator.”

You sigh again.

“If you’re gonna sleep in my bed, you can’t sleep in your regular clothes.” You turn your head to search through your drawers. “I don’t want my bed to smell like alcohol.”

Midoriya snorts behind you. “Okie.” And it’s followed by the sound of shuffling.

You’re quick as you grab the oversized college hoodie from your dresser, turning around - though hesitating a bit when you find him laid out in nothing but his underwear behind you, boxers fitting comfortably over his muscled thighs and chiseled stomach.

You try not to stare as you throw him the hoodie. “Put this on, whore. And fix yourself, don’t just sleep on top of the covers.”

“S’ bossy..” He pouts but he does it anyway.

Your feet patter around the room as you start to get ready for bed again, grabbing your phone from where you left it in the bathroom and plugging it up on your bedside table.

You're lifting a leg onto the bed while absently tying your hair up when Midoriya pulls at your lower thigh.

“Hm?”

“Can you…?” He starts drunkenly. “Do s’mthing for me.”

“Mhm?”

He looks at you for a while, drawing circles in your thighs.

“Sit on my face.”

You pause.

“You’re too drunk.”

Midoriya smiles giddily. “So? Y’expect me to ask you when I’m sober? You’re too hot.”

“You’re like barely conscious right now, Midoriya.”

He looks up at you a little woundedly. “Y’don’t want to?”

You wait a few long beats before answering a little honestly. “I mean… yeah but-“

You wobble a little as he starts to pull you in his direction, manhandled until you’re nearly hovering over his face. “W-wait. Midoriya, but you’re way too drunk! I don’t wanna-“

“Take advantage a’ me?” He slurs as he slides his head between your thighs, and you smell heavenly. “Been wan’in to do this like forever.”

He nuzzles his nose into your inner thigh as he reaches up to clumsily pull your panties to the side, breaths heated as you struggle in his grasp but his grip is unmoving.

“N-no wait!” You fumble. But even as you protest his hot tongue is already digging between your folds. “F-fuck…. Midoriya..!”

Vibrations send electric little waves up the rest of your torso as he moans contentedly underneath you. Sloppily dragging his tongue back and forth from your clit to the quivering little hole feeding him so well, momentarily taking a moment to dip his tongue in and all but dig you out as you inadvertently hump against his face.

His hands are steely as he keeps his hold on your hips, sliding them lovingly up your torso as he coaxes you to ride his face.

“Ah,” And the way you whine has him moaning out again. “We-… We shouldn’t be doing this…!”

Midoriya presses you more into his face as he defiantly nods in disagreement. He says something too. Maybe a cross between “mhm!” or “yes, we should.” But he’s not too keen on ripping himself away to sound any clearer.

You mewl when one of his hands slide up your shirt to fondle with your breasts, roughly squeezing in handfuls as he thumbs at your pert nipple.

You start to push at his head. “Izuku! Fuck, Izuku…” He chases your clit even as his head presses further into the mattress. “God…. your tongue…”

He grunts, removes the hand groping your breast to stop you from pushing his head away and instead card through his air.

“m’gonna cum…!” You whine. “Fuck m’gonna cum….”

Midoriya nods. “S’okay,” He sounds drunker than ever, cheeks red and eyes glazed over. “Go ‘head, baby. Y’ can cum.”

You gasp airily before letting out a moan that nearly has him cumming in his boxers, desperately humping into his face as you finally cum with a cry of his name, and he groans as he devours it all.

You’re whining from over stimulation when he’s finally getting his last few slurps in, kissing the inside of your thighs before finally letting you roll over and letting out a sigh of content. “God, thank you.” He breathes. “You’re so fucking good.”

You silently catch your breath.

You’re half dozing off when you feel your panties being pulled down your legs.

“N-no, wait. Midoriya, wait-“

He pouts as he pulls himself out of his boxers and god are you not prepped enough for that. “What happened to ’Izuku?’” And his pupils all but dilate as he presses your shirt up your chest. “Call me Izuku again, it was so cute?”

You halfheartedly push him away as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Come on, wait!” You whimper. “You’re gonna regret this in the morning…!”

“Why would I regret this in the morning? ‘ve been wan’ing to do this since I met- fuuckkk!”

You gasp. You can feel him in your guts and he hasn’t even gotten the whole thing in yet. You’re all but sobbing from the pressure as his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“s’tight!” He whines. “So fucking tight, princess. You’re milking me..!”

You dig your nails into his upper back as he lays his head in the crook of your neck and starts pistoning. He’s definitely rearranging your guts right now.

“s’too much, ‘zuku!” You mewl as he pants into your ear. “s’too deep! Fuck! You’re breaking me!”

“Mh yeah?” He lazes a few whiskey tinted kisses down your pulse point. “Ah- y’feel me in there? Feel me in your tummy?”

Midoriya lifts himself on one of his arms to press on your lower stomach and you all but convulse. “Look at how pretty this pussy is.” He lowers his hand till he’s rubbing attentive circles on your clit. “Takin’ me so well. Makin’ me feel so…ah… good!”

He’s lifting one of your legs and coaxing the other further when he lays his weight on you again, forcing his tongue in your mouth that still tastes like you.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” He pulls back and admits. “Always wanted you to be mine. And now you’re-“ Midoriya grunts. “Bein’ such a good girl f’me.”

You’re gonna squirt at this point. “You’re really suckin’ me in, huh? You want my cum?”

You whine.

Midoriya brings back his hips to push in a firm dragging thrust. “Good girls get what they ask for, baby.” He kisses the underside of your jaw. “Y’want it? You want my cum?”

“Ye- fuck!” You cry. “Yes! Yes!”

Midoriya groans. “Yeah y’do. Good fucking girl.”

Your back arches as his hips piston back and forth steadily into your core, creaming all over his cock as the way you pulsate around him has him clenching his teeth - and fucking into you even as you clench around his hot cum.

He whines as his thrusts finally shallow, slowing till he’s pressing as deep as he can and grinding his hips against yours, so desperately that the bed catches the current and the mattress wavers as he needily grinds himself in as deeply as he can.

It’s enough to have you creaming around him a second time, more managed seizing as your insides clench around him in the throws of your third orgasm and he cums again with a broken moan.

You can finally catch your breath when you reach up for him, carding your fingers in his hair before jolting a bit in his grasp as he rolls the both of you over.

You sigh. “Jesus, Izuku-“

Snore!

He’s asleep.

where there's smoke, there's fire - izuku x reader

summary: it's hard to get out of a loving relationship.

cw: yandere, horror, home invasion, manipulative behavior, abusive relationship, reader's kinda sick in the head too, smut, fem!parts, noncon/dubcon, oral sex (fem!receiving), penetrative sex

a/n: idk every overpowered person needs a killswitch ig.

You awake from a nightmare.

It's the type that has you bolting straight up to a sitting position, head pounding, throat dry and heart thumping in your chest in a frenzy. You're not sure what the dream was about, just that you were out cold for an unspecified amount of time, and while a sense of malaise is still set deep in your bones, there's an even more substantial leaden feeling in your arms, as though parts of you are still waking up.

And something is wrong, something that isn't neatly contained within the realm of REM sleep. You can sense it, keenly. It is dark in your room, and when your eyes finally adjust, you’re shocked to realize that your home is filled top to bottom with a thick haze of smoke.

Gasping, you then cover your mouth, remembering everything fire safety has taught you. Yet somehow, something about the smoke is wrong. There's no alarm going off from your smoke detectors, and you had an inspection recently, so you know those work. The smoke seems... wrong: too thick and evenly spread to be coming from a fire whose heat isn't close enough to feel. When you crawl out of the bed carefully, kicking off satin sheets, and using your fingers to make your way through the dense veneer, you realize it's still cold in fact, cold enough that you are shivering.

Perhaps it is fear that keeps the fine hairs on the back of your neck on end.

Still trailing around your mattress you maneuver further, waving a hand through the smoke. Maybe if you can find your phone, left charging on your dresser for once and not thrown irresponsibly on the other side of your bed as you slept, you can figure out what’s going on and call for help.

Your heart is still pounding, a thump, thump, thump, that is relentless.

The smoke smells wrong.

You find your phone, and somehow manage to turn on your flashlight.

The smoke is...

purple.

Your eyes widen with realization and you start to turn quickly.

"Izuku-"

There's a flash of green that seems to leap out of the darkness before you can begin to scream, and a body collides with yours, with the sensation almost like being hit by a moving vehicle in terms of speed and power; it takes your breath away, and a hand clasped firmly over your mouth refuses to let you draw a breath.

The smoke doesn't dissipate, not yet, but you can see him now, almost too clearly, and then your eyes water and your vision clouds.

"I missed you," he says, matter-of-factly. As if he hadn’t just broken into your home. As if he were welcome.

You try to say something but both the hand sealing away your voice and the firm hold he has on your body, pressing it close against his as he leans you against the dresser, allows you no such justice. Your phone crashes off the surface too loudly, and the squeak of the legs as the dresser slides across wooden flooring pierces through your ears.

Izuku's grin is wide and unsettling, like a feral cat delighted to finally have caught its unsuspecting prey. His teeth are disturbingly white in the dark, and his eyes still gleam like electricity in a storm. He doesn't need to use OFA to trap you, and nevertheless, you can see it ripple through his body as a form of intimidation.

By now, he knows that you've already given up flight, and he loves that you know that he knows. You stare at each other for a moment, recognizing the gravity of the situation, and time freezes for a split second.

Then it resumes.

"Say it back," he mutters now, dropping his hand. You'd forgotten to breathe in all this time, not even daring to inhale from your nose, and now suck in a huge volume of air, crying as you breathe it out.

He lets you weep silently for a few more moments, your hands digging deep into the edge of the dresser, watching you with the blank expression that is so unlike him but also far too much like him. It's the one that is devoid of his usual compassion, once he's decided that you are in no way worth saving but rather something to be dealt with. Swiftly, efficiently. When you catch it and recognize it for what it is, your blood runs cold and suddenly your tears dry up. They’re pointless.

"Say it back." his tone is more demanding now, and you shake your head.

"I didn-"

"Say it back." he repeats again, and he advances. The smoke is starting to clear finally, ever so slightly, and you can see a little more of him. He is superficially the same as you remember before you disappeared on him just a few months ago - same broad shoulders and imposing height, heroic frame despite the boyish, freckled face - but there’s a faint pallor under his skin, and he's just very slightly more gaunt, something you can peek from the neckline of his plain blue t-shirt, and there is a very slight tremulousness that extends to his fingertips that reminds you he is much more angry than he wants to let on.

You step back reflexively and consider standing your ground, and then you remember that the same hands that once held your face gently have leveled a building to that same ground, and you swallow hard.

"I-it's been a while." your voice is barely audible, weak, not much more than a whisper.

"That's not what I asked you to say," Izuku catches immediately. But he allows it, leaning in, and his face is all smiles again. Your stomach turns and again you're leaning back, but all that is behind you is a hard surface, and he even helps you up there, immediately hoisting you onto the short dresser so that your back presses against a mirror, something that can so easily break. 

It’s not really that unlike you now that you think about it. You are just as fragile.

He snorts.

"Did you think I couldn't find you?" he asks.

You shake your head and he laughs, and quicker than a flash he's grabbed your face by the underside of your chin, squishing your cheeks together in mock intimacy.

"How cute."

Your throat dries up again enough that a sharp breath would make you choke and sputter.

His eyes dart back and forth, inspecting every part of your body, from your face to your neck, bosom to your upper limbs, then your thighs, bare in pajama shorts. You feel unreasonably vulnerable, like he has x-ray vision, seeing to the very center of your person. There is an impulse to cover your chest, despite being covered tastefully in a tank top, and when you try to cross your arms, he forces them back to their sides.

There's a gasp you let out and then you bite your lip silent, afraid to make him angry. Izuku glares at you, licking his lips.

"You realize I only let you go so you could get back to your senses, right?"

This has you taken aback, despite all your fear. What does he mean, 'get back to your senses'? You meant it when you left. Things had felt wrong for far too long, and the walls were starting to close in... calling too much, worrying too much, comments about your clothing and your comings and goings, nervous about any men who he wasn't aware of becoming too familiar, even your own brother... It had all become too much the longer you dated and suddenly you were a frog nearly half-boiled, realizing it was almost too late.

Maybe it is too late now. Izuku, you can tell, is still in his own twisted way, in love with you.

After all, his hand is running gently the length of your thigh as he waits for you to speak. You won't speak, but you know you can't look away, lest he throw a real tantrum. As if stalking you right now and demanding you tell him you missed him is not tantrum enough.

The smoke continues to clear.

"You're taking too long to apologize, my love." he says, once his hand has reached your face again, and he's tilting your face to look at him. You allow him to move you, like a warm life-size doll, not a human with thoughts and feelings of your own.

"I've missed you so much... sure i've been busy, but going home to that cold bed without you, night after night? How cruel can you be?"

He turns to look at your own bed, smaller than the one you shared but still enough space for two.

"Do you still sleep on the left side?" he asks. This time he's not looking at you, still staring at the mangled sheets on both ends.

He turns back to you now, expecting an answer, and when you don't give him one immediately, he repeats himself again, sharply.

"Do you?"

"Yes." you admit, wondering why it sounds like a grave confession. He smiles, and you try not to look at him. and yet he tilts you face back in his direction before asking you another question.

"Bunny, you're so cruel, you know that? Valentine's day?" he asks. His eyebrow raises  and he tilts his head to the side. "How could you leave me on Valentine's day?"

When should I have? you ask in your head, thankful he can't hear your thoughts.

"I had a ring, love. I wanted to marry you, maybe that day even. We could sign some papers and disappear with each other for a little while… It could have been such a beautiful thing, you know how badly I need a break! So imagine how it felt to see that you were long gone!"

Izuku's grip on your chin tightens for a moment, then he pushes you slightly. The back of your head taps gently at the mirror behind you, but it doesn't hurt and the glass doesn't break, even if there is a sting where his fingers pressed onto your skin.

He steps back and laughs again, really laughs, hands running through his hair as he doubles over in amusement. 

"I looked so stupid! flowers and chocolate and stuffed animals and sparklers... I was going to fly you up to the highest point and write our names in the sky.. I was..." his voice trails off, and he is staring off into space. You are shaking now, crying too, somewhere between terrified and enraged the longer he speaks.

His eyes narrow as his gaze snaps back to you from your sniffling sound.

"Say what you want to say, dove." The edge in his voice is palpable though, as if he is expecting a hit that he will return with just as much fervor.

“You can't force me.” Vitriol seeps from your voice but it’s shaky and unconvincing.

And so he laughs, again, sinking down finally onto your bed, and laying backward, an action that makes you almost furious. A mocking laugh, arms spreading like he would make a snow angel; bile rises in your throat and you fidget but you don't move, knowing that your break for it has to be smart if it will be successful.

"But you can make me fall for you?" he asks, through humorless chuckles. "That's not fair, is it?"

Bolder now, you retort, "I didn't make you do anything."

Izuku doesn't like this response, moving fast enough that one second he's off the bed and right in your face and the other second has you thrown onto the mattress itself; so fast that you barely register it until your back is where his back was, and he is hovering right on top of you.

"You approached me first." This is said harshly, as though he is regretful of that fateful encounter and you resist the urge to spit in his face.

No, you just said hi to him first, and he was smitten that you'd given him any attention, The cute but admittedly terribly awkward boy sitting alone in a coffee shop, with an extra chair that you'd wanted to borrow for your friends. Maybe you'd given him too long of eye contact, maybe it was the fact that you didn't know who he was yet; maybe you had flirted a little the second time you met, but who wouldn't when having a chance to meet the charming hero on television, the one who hugged children and petted dogs and smiled to the camera and disappeared villains in the blink of an eye?

How could you have known he had a couple screws loose? He was so good otherwise.

Until the paranoia set in. the obsession with you and your safety and your innocence and you belonging to him and the constant explaining away of unhinged behavior, and the long periods of absence with sudden, extreme and unending demands for intimacy - he was making you as crazy as he was.

"I didn't know you were insane."  you finally say, looking straight up into his eyes, brazen behavior arising from three years of almost pulling your hair out and three short months of fear.

His eyes widen, and for a split second he looks furious, and in his eyes you suddenly see a storm - in fact, you imagine your entire home up in flames and lightning instead of smoke - and then he kisses you.

You fight back, but the grip on your wrists is like wrought iron - in fact, as though making a mockery of you as he leans all of his weight on top of you, he shifts your wrists forced at your sides to rest above your head, then uses one hand to keep them together, the other stroking the side of your face gently. The longer you kick at him, the longer he presses your legs down, then adjusts his weight to pin you fully, the longer you can feel your head start to spin from lack of air in your lungs.

"Settle down." he orders you, once you're almost dizzy, as the fight quickly makes its way out of you. He forces his tongue down your throat and suddenly, eventually, instead of biting you accept it, because this is a body you know, and a body that you've fought but you've also held, and the taste of his tongue is the same as it's always been.

His weight is familiar, and the way he sucks your tongue and his lips clash with yours is intimate, and again your fighting spirit drains further and further. Your limbs grow limp and he adjusts, now less on top of you and more fitted against you, large body accommodating to the spread of your legs.

He pulls back, and your eyelids flutter. Izuku looks at you with an unnatural amount of love, an unsettling amount of love, a love that is crushingly abundant and inescapable.

You hear him whisper, "that's my girl."

It should make you angry, but instead you're tired, exhausted even, and then you're comforted, because why fight him when you won't win and when he loves you anyway?

Will anyone else ever feel this strongly about you, enough to remove any obstacles in your path, even if it is your own silly will to be free? Will anyone else be so willing to be your own personal monster, at your beck and call?

You have the power to make the prison your home. After all, you are not only stuck to him, he is just as much stuck to you.

Deku is a good hero. Izuku is a good man. He is your man.

He’s strange, and he’s terrifying, but that’s because he is special. Unique. You have to understand where he’s coming from. If not you, then who else?

Your hands curl into his hair, tugging softly and your body shifts too, legs wrapping around his waist keeping him snug against you. You know if he wanted to, he would as easily melt into your skin as he wishes you would consume him. After all, what else runs through his head all day? It is only natural that separation from you should make him this anxious, this self- and outwardly destructive.

There is tragedy just as much as there is comedy and joy in fate.

"Do you love me?" you ask, as you feel Izuku grow against you with every wave of his body against your center. He nips and bites at you relentlessly, leaving hickeys everywhere he can reach. Marking you, marking you, marking you.

"Yes," he whispers. He kisses your earlobes, and your hands reach the side of his face, cupping them so that he faces you.

"Do you love me enough to ever let me go?" you ask again.

Are your eyes pleading for mercy? You know that they are wet with tears, but you can still see him. He's beautiful when he's not angry, when he's not afraid or stressed or vengeful. The sweetest man. A man you've loved. Someone you still love even if you are afraid.

Izuku shakes his head quickly, and tears fill his eyes.

"I love you too much for that to be possible."

You nod, and a tear slides sideways down your cheek. He'll never understand. Maybe one day you’ll accept it, when you’ve both grown too old to argue.

"Good."

He dips down low and kisses you and this time, you accept him more readily. It takes not long for your clothes and his clothes to be shed, and your naked bodies to press together fervently, the once freezing room now hot with twisted passion. Izuku bites your lower lip and asks you who else has touched you since him.

“No one, Izu,” you whisper. 

He’s pleased to hear it, not that you could safely give him any other answer. His cock presses hot and heavy against your pubic bone; he hasn’t entered you yet, and you wonder how he’s managed to wait this long before stuffing you full.

Izuku kisses your forehead, then your nose, then lifts himself up so that he’s rested on his haunches. You gasp as he drags your lower half upwards to his mouth as easily as lifting a glass of water, and sips, then gulps your center down, thirstily like your pussy is an oasis and he is a weary traveler seeking solace.

He’s moaning, palming your ass cheeks with fervor as he slurps you down - worse so because he is loud as he eats you up - your back arches and you grab fistfuls of his hair as you whine and mewl and squirm under his touch. It’s too much, it’s always too much and yet you can feel your head swim with pleasure the longer he goes on. 

After all, he just loves you so much, he just has a heavy-handed way of showing it. 

“God, you taste so good,” he whispers into your folds. “You’re so beautiful, you’re everything, I need you so much, bunny, don’t you know?” His tongue circles around your clit, licks long stripes to the taint, dips into your center; he sucks at your folds, bites gently even, ignoring the straggled gasp you let out, or the way your legs tighten around his shoulders as you tense up and explode into climax.

As you shudder and shake as he lets you go, laying you back down to recover from the first blinding orgasm, he whispers that you are beautiful again, and again, and again. 

You know you’re beautiful. He’s told you so many times already, enough that even if you stare at the mirror and think of yourself as less than perfect, you can hear him over and over again in your head.

Beautiful. Perfect. Gorgeous. His.

You are his.

Izuku takes no time filling you to the hilt once your breathing evens out - or once he runs out of patience - and you wince as you adjust to his size, but it’s a mostly pleasurable burning stretch as he bullies his way into your pussy, letting out a sigh as he nestles deep where he belongs, and he actually smiles, relief that you can see in the dim light when he presses his forehead again close to yours.

“Don’t we fit together perfectly?”

“Mm, ‘zuku,” you reply in the affirmative. Mollified and malleable you are now, as you should be for him, your voice is soft, barely a whisper, wavering only with the twitch of his cock inside you.

Izuku kisses your earlobe, and rolls you so that you lay above him, forcing you upright.

“So I can see you better,” he says as he nudges you, and understanding, you support your weight gently with your palms. He won’t make you ride him, he’ll do all the movement himself, but he loves to see the bounce of your breasts as they do now with every thrust upwards. Every gasp and sigh as you hold on to him, the twist of your features, the way you throw your head back when he has a firm grip on your hips and really goes to town; how you shake when you climax, squeezing your quivering thighs together in time with your fluttering walls, drawing in deep breaths for lewd, lewd moans. 

Izuku plays you like a fucking fiddle.

He pleasures you first, because oh goodness, he can outlast you nearly any day of the week, drawing climax after climax out of you until you’re dumb and quiet, waiting for the thick spurts of cum to fill you up.

He’s done this enough times, until you’re craving and needy and forget why you’re mad in the first place.

Dick sick and sick in the head, just as much as he is. 

And just like that, he forces his way back into your life. Legs tangled together as you sleep, lives intertwined anew like nothing ever happened.

You’ll become a very good liar yet again, but for now, as he rests, his face nestled into your bosom and hold unbreakable and inescapable, you decide to sleep, and leave your love problems to the morning to come.

tummy kisses and izuku please!! thank you in advance <33

⋆ ♡̷ .ﾟtummy kisses

⋆ ♡̷ .ﾟ prompt list <3

izuku gently caresses your waist with his thumb as he rests his head on your belly; he looks at the world outside through the window, watching the sun go down, the birds returning to their nests, admiring the shapes of the clouds.. everything is so beautiful, but nothing compares to the beauty he sees in you.

he smiles at the thought and rests his chin on your belly, adoringly looking at every detail of your face, and when his gaze meets yours, you smile shyly. he always has a sweet and mesmerizing effect on you; no matter how long you've been together.

he smiles and you runs his hand through his hair, brushing a curl that was falling on his forehead, which makes him smile even more. your hand slides up to his cheek and strokes it lightly with your thumb, he closes his eyes and leans into your hand. he kisses your wrist and opens his eyes again when you take your hand away from his face.

he loves it when you touch him, but he hates it when you stop. he loves receiving your affection and doesn't want to be without it even for a second of his day. so if you won't give him affection, he will give it to you.

he feels you shiver as he brings his mouth to your belly, his hot breath sending hot feelings and shivers down your spine. he smiles against your skin. he holds your waist tightly before spreading soft, sweet kisses down your belly.

he smiles between kisses before starting to drop kisses in a straight line, heading towards your chest. he kisses the space between your breasts, your neck, your chin and finally your lips.

there is no part of your body that izuku has not kissed or adored, there is no part of you that he is not completely in love with.

our time - izuku x reader

cw: minors dni, fem!reader, reader implied to be a hero & high school sweetheart, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, public sex, hot tub sex, shower sex, sex toy use, safe word use, rapid shifts between humor, smut, and hurt/comfort, lots of cheesy jokes tbh, deku is a little bit sassy, bakugou and shinsou have unnamed female partners, baby mention. summary: you and izuku share a yearly tradition. a/n: i'm reposting this hella self-indulgent selfship fic because i can!

“This is a lot of packing for a two day trip,” Izuku teases, as you hand him your overstuffed suitcase, the same dark green typical of his merchandise. He places it next to his noticeably lighter one, which coincidentally is a deep purple and has your Hero name plastered all over it.

“Yeah, but I’m guessing you want to see me in as many outfits as possible in a 48 hour period, right?” you tease back, tapping him gently on the nose. He leans in as he presses the rear door close button to the SUV, then grins. 

In a low voice, he whispers, “that’s quite a bit of clothing for me to tear off. Are you sure?”

Your face warms and you hate that you never win at this game, but try to come up with something quick to say. 

“I’ll be swiping your card indiscriminately to replace anything you ruin this year,” you add, eyes lowering to where your finger is prodding his chest. His eyes seem to twinkle.

“Sounds like I need to make more money then.”

He’s won this round. The warmth spreads to your ears and reflexively you hit his shoulder. His grin widens and you slip from his gaze to run to the passenger side of the car. No more time for banter.

“We’re gonna be late, Izuku!"

Bakugou has given you clear instructions to pick up the keys to your shared vacation home between 6 to 7 pm and will give you absolutely no room for tardiness. You anticipate that he’ll make all manners of disgusted facial expressions when you show up to his place, given that he knows exactly what you’ll be doing for the next 48 hours, and you are still trying to decide whether or not you should play along and double down or admit that you’re a little embarrassed ever since you started this tradition.

Or at least that you’re embarrassed your closest friends are aware of what exactly this tradition entails.

Izuku, on the other hand, never has any shame it seems. If anything, he’s a little overeager for this “retreat” this year, and it’s almost certainly because the past few weeks at work were nothing short of a nightmare for him. Catastrophes that seemed to only prop up as far as humanly possible from you seemed to be the order of the day recently, and you hadn’t had time for dedicated physical intimacy in a while, let alone even see him between missions. The only thing that made it easier to tolerate his absence was that you fell asleep so fast these days due to exhaustion that you barely noticed his side of the bed stayed empty the entire night. 

As he drives, possibly a little too fast and somewhat recklessly (frankly unexpected for a person like him), he holds your hand with varying levels of tightness as though he’s playing with the feel of your hands in his - remembering it, reacquainting himself. He doesn’t say much yet but you can tell by the look in his eye and the twitch in his lips (controlling his urge to talk under his breath), that he’s daydreaming. You have an idea what of.

Pervert.

“What are you thinking of, Izuku?” you inquire after a moment. The goal of the statement is to disarm him which only works half the time.

“Sex,” he replies, bluntly. He doesn’t turn to look at you, focusing on the road carefully, but his fingers tighten again around yours as you pull away indignantly.

“Stop!” you hiss and he laughs loudly. Every time he sneaks a glance at your flustered expression for the next few moments, he breaks out into another bout of laughter and you can’t help but smile too.

“People need to know how ridiculous you are sometimes,” you murmur. “I should expose you, honestly. Let them know who their hero really is.”

“I thought you hated sharing me with everyone,” he says. You meet his sideways glance as he turns, hand over hand, into Bakugou’s driveway. You consider his words for a moment, then sigh. 

“I guess you’re right. I do.”

The car slows to a stop and he parks then faces you in the car for a moment. Sometimes you wonder how he manages to do this - look at you every so often like it’s truly the first time he’s ever seeing you, even if you’ve known each other since you were high-schoolers. He places a hand on your knee as you turn towards him. 

“I’m yours, okay? Not just during our birthday vacation but all the time,” he reminds you. You twist your mouth to the side. There’s something about Izuku that indulges the more immature parts of you, and he handles them all the same.

“Understood?” he insists.

You nod, pretend-reluctantly, and he whispers, “Good girl,” before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Things have been hard recently, you think, but when he’s close to you like this, everything you go through feels worth it. There’s another kiss that makes it to your lips, and perhaps your arms make their way around his neck and-

“I swear to God if you guys start to fuck on my property, I will tear both of you a new one.” 

With Bakugou’s irritated voice calling out to you, there’s a flash of the driveway lights that nearly blinds you, as though you are teenagers being caught getting too close in the driveway of your parents’ home.

Izuku steps out of the car first and Bakugou throws a set of keys at him before flashing you an annoyed look. You give him a cheeky raise of the eyebrows to acknowledge him similarly, pretending not to notice the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt, and look around him to see one of your favorite people make her way out of the house from behind him. 

She’s wrapped haphazardly in a shawl and you laugh as she hugs you, able to tell she clearly just threw those clothes on ten seconds ago, if the breathiness in her voice and the flush in her cheeks is not enough to make it obvious.

“Please do not poke my eye out with your titties, I’m begging you love.” She grins widely as she squeezes you tighter.

“You don’t need your eyes to suck cock, do you?” she whispers into your ear. You roll your eyes.

“Can you ever be civilized?”

“Good question,” Bakugou asks, but not before slapping his wife’s ass on the way back into his house. “Don’t crash on your way there, Midoriya, I don’t want to pick up your shifts.”

“That’s his way to say ‘drive safely’!” your friend translates as she gives Izuku a quick, slightly more chaste hug, then jogs backwards back into the house where Bakugou is waiting. “Happy birthday! Let me know when you guys get there!”

“We will! Thanks!” you wave.

When you turn, Izuku is already getting back into the car. It doesn’t take long for both of you immediately to burst into laughter.

“Kacchan is such a hypocrite. As if we don’t see the bite marks all over his chest.”

“And __’s neck. Embarrassing.” 

You tease but it’s cute to see them so happy. Of all your friends, you think they’ve been stable the longest, and their relationship simply fell into place. It helps you believe that perhaps things will be good for you long-term as well. 

As if Midoriya can read your wistful thoughts, he picks up your hand and kisses the knuckles idly for a moment as he continues to drive, the highway tapering off into a smaller paved road as night settles in. Both of you are tired from the week, and opt for peaceful silence and music played at a low volume. After all, you will have plenty of uninterrupted time shortly.

---

You’re not sure when you dozed off exactly. 

Izuku nudges you gently to wake you then carries you out of the car with one arm and produces a couple dark tendrils from Blackwhip with the other to pull the luggage behind you. 

“I can walk,” you murmur, although you like the idea of being carried, and hope he insists, which he does, and you nuzzle closer into his chest, taking in the scent of his cologne. 

There’s a small gate outside of the cabin that is truly underestimated by the word; rather, it is a large and lavish three-winged property, U-shaped, and fairly secluded in the forest and trees. A section, the rightmost one, belongs to you and features the name ‘Midoriya’ on a welcome mat in front of the entryway. 

Izuku takes in an exaggerated deep breath as he opens the door, and excitedly exclaims,

“Finally. Peace and quiet.”

You try to stifle a laugh as he sets you down, and stretch out a hand for him to toss you his phone and drop in a special safe hanging from the side of the wall along with your own. There’s a preset timer set for 48 hours (except for emergencies) on its display that you contemplate before confirming.

“It’s silly that we do this!” you call out, feeling the disconnection to the outside world immediately the second the safe beeps to signal that it’s locked. Yet it’s necessary, because both of you are bad at blocking out the outside world and simply relaxing when needed.

Izuku steps out of the master bedroom, completely undressed aside from a pair of boxer briefs which he is also actively in the process of shedding. You take in his body, impressive in its shape and decorated with scars and freckles, and almost miss what he says.

“What’s silly is that you’re fully clothed when it’s hot tub time.”

Your eyes widen and you blink a few times in succession as you watch him strip to nothing, and suddenly you forget that you’re exhausted. Swallowing hard, you make your way towards him, but really past him, towards the room where your packed clothing lies, and he intercepts you on the way there, grinning widely as he towers over you. 

“I need to get my bathing suit,” you pout, knowing very well you’re not getting past him. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he lays kisses on your neck that immediately disarm you. You can feel your body sink into him, as you make soft sounds of protest but soon you’re in his arms again and he’s carrying you to the hot tub, lips connected with every step.

…

The night continues and you sink deep onto Izuku’s cock, heat rising around and inside you. Your fingers cling to his broad shoulders as you slide onto him repeatedly, half-lidded eyes gazing down at him. He aids your descent, gliding you onto him as he worships your bosom with his tongue, laving a different wetness along your nipples and the curve of your breast, sucking at the sensitive skin. 

“God, I needed this,” he whimpers as he buries his face into your neck. He cums, holding you tightly, filling you for the first time that night. The splash of water as he moves you so that your back presses against him and he can kiss the nape of your neck is somewhat soothing to your ears, as is the sound of his breathing as he holds you close. 

You need him more - always, really. You revel in the way he plays with your hair and runs his calloused hands along your skin.

You also revel further in the way he dives deep between your legs, after you’ve sat together in the tub and let stress melt away, and after you’ve fucked a second time in the shower, your back pressed against the warm tile, and his hands supporting the weight of your thighs, steady despite the slippery water running over your bodies. He sucks your clit and blows softly against your folds, excited by the tensing of your thighs against his head and the relentless moans.

“‘Zuku, it’s too much…”

It’s never too much, because you can always handle more of him, and he eats you out till you cry and cum all over again, messy on his face, wrists in the palm of his broad hand. He kisses your belly as you practically convulse and come down from your high.

“Wanna rest, baby?” he asks. It’s hard for you to speak as your head spins, so instead you curl up against him. He takes it as a yes.

You fall asleep in his arms, beating hearts pressed close together. There will be more in the AM.

---

The smell of breakfast wakes you before a gentle ache in your thighs. As you shift and reorient yourself from the unfamiliar surroundings, you can hear Izuku make his way in the room with an impossibly loaded tray of breakfast foods he sets precariously on a coffee table across from the California King bed.

“Rise and shine, love.”

Before you can shift, Izuku makes his way on top of you, laughing as you wriggle under him.

“You’re so freaking heavy,” you hiss, but your arms make their way around his bare chest and you inhale his scent. His natural smell is comforting in its familiarity and despite the fact that you’ve been skin to skin nearly all of last night, you crave more closeness. His voice rumbles against your skin as he holds you tightly. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Like a baby,” you reply. 

“Perfect. We should have breakfast,’ he insists. “We could go on a short hike and watch some of the birds in this area.”

“Mm, definitely.”

You kiss his forehead and satisfied, he rolls off of you too quickly for you to reach and slap his ass. He gives you a cheeky look and you crinkle your nose at him first before you decide to get out of bed.

You slip your feet into warm fuzzy sandals and head to the bathroom to brush your teeth first. A blanket is wrapped around your naked body, because you don’t like how the floor-to-ceiling glass windows make it easy for anyone (anyone who dares to anyway) to peep at you. Izuku is at the second sink at the far end, rubbing day-old stubble on his chin to decide if he wants to shave.

“Keep it,” you ask him as you press toothpaste onto your toothbrush. In response, he scratches his chin against yours as you bat him away.

“Maybe I will.”

Breakfast is filled with chatter and laughter, realizing you haven’t had enough time to really speak to each other in the past few months, despite living in the same house. You hold his hand as you walk up higher and higher up the mountain, clad in shirts and cargo shorts and too much sunscreen, bellies full but not heavy. 

Izuku has a guide in his hand that you cannot fathom when he had the time to read that identifies more than a couple of creatures that soar above in the early morning, and you get surprisingly good pictures, particularly when Izuku uses his Quirk to get you high into the treetops for a better vantage point.

You do some foraging as well, of different fruits and flowers to add to your scrapbook, petals to press later - 

Much like you find Izuku pressing into you shortly after, shrouded in the denser part of the brush, away from the shy fauna. All you can feel is him, all you can see is him raised above you, and the caws of birds that are probably embarrassed to witness how easily you drip like sap around him.

“..h-harder, Izuku,” you demand, scratching at his neck, his chest, his back, anything to communicate your feral desire. He bites your shoulder as he grunts in response, driving as much cock into you as he can muster, and you get what you asked for.

---

“I can’t believe you convinced me to roll around in the dirt with you.”

You gently admonish him with a kick of your leg, sending bathwater splashing at his face. He grips your leg and straightens it, laughing as you give him a slightly surprised look.

“As opposed to everything else you’d be willing to do for me?” he asks, pressing a kiss to your ankle. You can feel heat spread to your neck as he kisses further but stops just short of your knee, and then wades from his end of the bathtub to yours, pulling you to his side.

“When did you get so cocky?” you flick more water at him with your fingers as he grins. Your bodies shift in position, until your back rests against his chest and he’s holding your breasts in your hands, grazing your nipples with his thumbs.

“Way back when I finally got your attention.”

You turn suddenly to kiss him then pause. His lips are parted and soft and he looks somewhat surprised by your sudden movement. There’s something that’s said between you two without words, something that whispers I’ve missed you despite the fact that you and he have always been here. 

“Do I still have it?” he whispers suddenly, as his lips ghost yours.

“Always.”

The scent of rose and jasmine fills your nostrils and love fills your heart.

---

“I’m surprised even though this is the third time we’ve been here, I never get tired of this place,” you say as Izuku lays his head in your lap. Izuku might as well be something like a cat or a bunny at this rate - you can practically feel him purr with the gentle scratches of your nails against his scalp, and his hand squeezes your thigh gently whenever you stop. “I still don’t think we’ve seen everything,” you continue.

“Probably not,” he agrees. His wavy hair is slightly damp still, and the rise and fall of his chest is slow and steady. He’s staring up at the ceiling and you can tell his mind, for once in a long while, is almost completely clear. 

Almost.

You can’t lie that you haven’t been a little worried about your phone messages and other updates you’ve been missing while you’ve been engrossed with Izuku, and you can tell he feels similarly, a little bit of guilt settling in. It’s the same for you. Work, work, work. That’s what life has been like between you two as you’ve climbed your respective career ladders, trying to save the world as best you can. Times like this are rare and need to be protected as something as precious as people’s lives.

“Oh my God, do you remember the last time we were here and your nosy self thought it was a smart idea to start exploring the other wings?”

Izuku’s eyes widen as he recalls.

“Fuck.”

You start to laugh and kick your legs and he gets up, shaking his head. 

“Shinsou told me the next time I trespassed he would have me shit myself in public. I hear him in my nightmares sometimes, honestly.”

You laugh even louder, doubled over as the image of Izuku, suddenly dangling from the ceiling by his ankle the second he passed through one door too many.

“The way you called my nameeeeeee!” you cackle as he pouts. “You were swinging there like a trapped animal!”

He purses his lips at you but you’re too busy laughing your ass off to notice, and eventually he ends up laughing too, falling back into your lap. His hands reach up to press your cheeks together.

“You know, it’s weird how many ropes and traps and harnesses are just littered around… Your friends are into some kinky shit,” he points out. Remembering many a midnight conversation about Shinsou and your friend’s ventures into shibari, you simply have to agree.

“I don’t know, I guess she likes being tied up.”

Izuku shoots you another glance, and you can see the glint of mischief in his eye.

“Do you want me to tie you up more?”

You tap his forehead with two fingers. “If I were into that, you’d know by now.”

He pretend-bites your fingers the next time you poke him. “Things can change.”

“Fair,” you reply. You pause, and then you look at him suspiciously. “You have ropes in your bag, don’t you?”

Izuku laughs frankly at the accusation. “I actually don’t, but I’ll keep that in the back of my mind… Plus Blackwhip is always handy.” 

You can feel your face grow hot and he pats your face teasingly.

“I have other things packed, though.” Izuku grins.

That’s how you end up, spine curled into a C and legs raised with ankles by your head, panting and trembling as Izuku intermittently presses a vibrator against your clit. 

“Come on, one more for me, baby,” he pleads, kissing the sweat on your brow as he holds your wrists above your head with one hand and torments your pussy with the other. Your voice comes out in soft cries as you try to recover from muscles clenching around nothing every time he makes you cum, swallowing the noises that slip out of your throat in orgasm with a kiss.

“I d-don’t have any more!” you cry, tears at the corner of your eyes. He gives you a long look and switches off the vibrator, and the last few pulses threaten to send you over the edge again. You’re too tired to wriggle out of the position and he doesn’t move you, keeping you in place.

“Temperature?” he asks. 

You consider for a moment despite your lust-filled haze.

“Hot,” you finally decide. He smiles then bites your lip before switching the vibrator back on. 

---

“I don’t want to leave,” you say first.

The two of you watch the stars around a small bonfire and share bites of cake that is slightly too sweet for his liking and slightly too heavy for your liking but somehow neither of you can get enough of. He says nothing but nuzzles into your neck more as you cuddle. 

It’s surprisingly quiet and melancholy now, as if just a couple hours ago you weren’t screaming his name, as if his thumbs weren’t just dug in the spaces where you back and your glutes meet as he gave you relentless backshots.

“I wish we could stay forever like this,” you continue, then you laugh. “But you’d get sick of me, wouldn’t you, Izuku?”

“Never.”

You turn to look at him. He sounds a little bit too serious. He’s not looking at you but at the fire ahead and you worry that he’s worrying about facing tomorrow yet again. Izuku has once told you that it’s not that he’s no longer nervous, but that the anxiety is less and less able to prevent him from acting the way his heart tells him to as time goes on. 

His legs move first. Always. And yet, it doesn’t mean the fear is no longer not there. It creeps when the rush of adventure is no longer able to drown it out.

It creeps when he holds you like this.

“You’d get tired of me first,” he adds as he fixes his gaze onto you.

“You know that that’s ridiculous,” you giggle. But he isn’t laughing and the crackle of the fire is suddenly too loud. 

“It isn’t. There’s a lot you can have that I can’t give you all the time.” He says. Your heart starting to race, you pull away from him just slightly and his hold on you releases just enough for you to turn and really face him.

“I don’t want anything else,” you insist.

“You should,” he says. The tone of his voice is a little quieter now, and then he repeats himself louder. “You should want someone who is present.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t say anything else because he knows you will argue away anything he tells you. So instead he sighs, not wanting to ruin the last few hours of vacation.

“Someday, it’ll just be this,” he says, “and it’ll be more than enough.” He kisses the top of your head. “I promise.”

You believe him. You know what he means by this intrinsically, as though you were in his head. A space for just the two of you and nothing to worry about. Where you can grow old together, where you are no longer weighed down by what you have yet to achieve and what you have already accomplished.

---

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

You know he does. You know, and if for even a second you forget, he will tell you over and over and over again.

Your fingers intertwine with his and you sigh, back arching as you open up for him. You fit together perfectly, again and again and again. Forever. 

There’s a deep flush in his cheeks as he whispers words of praise into your skin. Another year passes and your love only continues to grow, tended to or not.

“I love you too, Izuku. Happy birthday.”

---

“The second my phone turns on, she’s gonna call me, watch,” you joke, as you open up the phone safe. 48 hours are up, and yes your legs are wobbly, but the red string of Fate that ties you two no longer frays. As expected, there is a flurry of texts that blow up your phone, and as Izuku prepares the car, you try to see which one you can respond to first.

I set the timer by the way 👶🍼. May the odds ever be in your favor.

gtfoooooo 💀, you text back to Shinsou’s favorite rope bunny. But as you watch your husband disappear into the distance, you think that it might not be so bad to have a little one.

“So how many?” 

The expected phone call arrives while the two of you are back on the road.

“How many what?” you ask suspiciously. Izuku glances at you with curiosity.

“Orgasms? What else?” she clarifies, and you’re immediately flustered, practically able to see the mischievous smile on her face. Izuku hears it through the end of the receiver and laughs, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

“Izuku, do not answer-”

“Whatever Bakugou’s capable of plus one,” he says loudly, leading in.

“Bullshit!” your friend shouts back, and you can hear her already shuffling to tell Bakugou and you sigh.

“I’m hanging up,” you announce before an argument begins.

“Why babe?” Izuku whines, but the phone clicks off and he laughs even louder. “He’s gonna be thinking about that all night.”

“Don’t pick up the phone,” you say, but a smile forms on your face. You look forward and the sun is setting on the horizon as you drive next to Izuku. 

It was a nice weekend. You’ll have many more to come.

Together.