So I’ve been joking for a while about how Inko manages to afford all of Izuku’s AM merch
But I decided to nerd out and look closer, and I’m pretty sure the only expensive piece Izuku owns is the poster he got from Sir
You might think his dorm looks absolutely stacked
but that’s only because it’s a very small room and he brought every piece he owns
If you look in his old room it’s all the same posters
so he’s owned it all for at least a few years, he’s been working up to this for god knows how many years, just to be the proud owner of 5 posters so basic even he would put tape on them
All of his figures are less than 50$
One of which he’s had since he was a child
And it doesn’t look like the other unidentified figures are anything special either(except maybe AM in his yellow suit)
Izuku only has generic fanboy shit, like maybe one of the posters is a custom but I honestly I don’t think he owns a single special anything
The dead guy poster is 100% the coolest thing he has, no wonder he’s so reverent about it 💀
As for fits this is all we’ve really seen is
So yeah Inko isn’t dropping stacks on merch, I’m pretty sure those sweaters were a 2 for 1 deal because they’re almost identical 💀
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I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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pro hero shouto accidentally stumbles across NSFW fanart of himself on twit and replies unprompted ‘👍 but my penis does not look like that’ while his entire PR team experiences an ominous full body shudder
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mdni. not explicit nsfw but implications.
izuku who gets flustered when you walk in on him taking a piss in the bathroom, despite you having seen his dick countless times.
he’ll be mid-piss, his hero suit loose on his figure without being fully zipped and his freckled shoulders jumping when the door bursts open by you who walks in oh, so casually to finish your morning routine. he almost barked out a laugh when you had the audacity to ask, “honey, why’d you close the door?”
slowly turning away from the mirror over the sink, you look at him with a hint of a smirk in the small smile you give him. “you know there’s nothing neither of us haven’t seen.” you leave him in the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door as you move onto the next part of your routine.
if he wasn’t blushing before, the redness in his cheeks that reach up to the tip of his ears now leave no room for doubt. oh, the things you do to him.
and now he’s hard.
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