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bajisbabe · 1 year

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[a/n]: this post has been giving me so much trouble, it’s not even funny. winter fic exchange with @. so here it is, unformatted. :)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

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WARNINGS: Fluff, domestic life, plot(?) + smut, established relationship, oral (fem receiving), polite boy!Izuku, aged up!/number 1 pro hero!Izuku, reader can cook, reader and Izuku live together, tiny bit of angst, Izuku calls reader “baby,” reader referred to as beautiful once, slight bondage (?) using Black Whip, izuku uses quirk during sex kinda. P in V sex, unprotected.

Word Count: 4.2k

Synopsis: Izuku is busy, but never too busy to remind you that he loves you.

~★~

You sat up abruptly, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Glaring into the darkness from your extremely comfortable spot on your shared bed, you muttered out, “Izuku? Is that you?”

It couldn’t have been any later than 5 in the morning. The last lingering bits of dusk before dawn. You couldn’t see much other than his silhouette, and the outline of his hero costume. How his shoulders floated up and down with every ragged breath.

Your lips pursed, brows drawing together. “Are you okay?”

You could make out his faint nod. He sluggishly stripped himself of his clothes, heavy fabric falling to the ground with a thud. He stumbled forward and out of the pile of his clothing, kicking off his signature red boots. He lingered at the edge of the bed for a moment, seemingly watching you. You didn’t quite catch the adoring smile of his, merely complaining up a storm as his heavy body collapsed on top of you.

You made it a point to remind him that muscle weighs a ton and that he had a lot of it. He mumbled a quiet “goodnight, baby” and fell asleep almost immediately. The only thing separating you from his bare skin was the dark green briefs you bought him impulsively on your last trip to the store.

—

Izuku came home late the next night, being just awake enough to eat the leftovers you had in the fridge for dinner. Since you had yet to go to bed, you joined him in the dining room and watched him eat. He scarfed it down, gulping mouthfuls of water in between big bites.

He told you to tell him about your day and listened eagerly when you did, nodding and replying when appropriate. You tried to ask him about his, only to realize that he had finished his plate and had started to drift off while sitting up.

You shook your head and chuckled some before standing and patting him on the back, eagering him up and out of his seat and to the bathroom. You helped him out of his clothes, and he helped you out of yours. The two of you bathed together. At one point, you sat behind him on the edge of the tub, washing his back and trying to ignore the large amount of soot on his right shoulder—he had some kind of run-in with fire. Not to mention a new scar you had never seen before appeared on his left side.

You rinsed his skin and moved on to his hair, lathering up shampoo in those soft, green curls of his. He sang your praise, telling you that your hands felt so good in his hair.

Because of that combined with his sinking, heavy eyelids, you found it in you to bite your tongue and say nothing. Rather opting to guide him to bed so that you both could sleep.

But you didn’t sleep much that night, insisting on turning to face him even though he much preferred spooning you. It wasn’t like he could put up a fight, he practically fell asleep the second you wiggled out of his arms, his thick fingers still reaching out for you even in his stupor. You watched his face for hours, noting the little flickers of his lashes, the crease in his brow, the blooming color in his cheeks, the quiet breathing from his open lips.

Your hand came up once or twice to brush away any stray hair that had fallen onto his forehead. You had known Izuku long enough to know that he got rather hot when he slept, sometimes even sweating, but he never complained when the both of you cuddled up under the heavy comforter. Never did he move away, or try for a new position once you got comfortable. Not even once.

For some reason, the thought makes you sad. You think of how selfless Izuku is, how kind he is, how he always puts others before himself. How he ultimately always puts himself in danger because of it.

And the thought makes you want to cry.

—

“Izuku,” you say, rushing to the front door to stop him in his path. He immediately halts, eyes flickering in your direction, brows raising. “Can we talk?”

He opens his mouth as if to tell you that he has somewhere to be—which he does. You know this because he always goes to work around the same time everyday. 8 AM, on the dot. Sometimes as early as 6 or 7, sometimes long before you even get up. But he shuts his mouth, nodding and holding out his hand for you to take. You do, allowing him to guide you to the couch.

You sit right next to him, only allowing a small space so that you can both turn to each other. You take a moment to steel yourself, knowing that what you’re about to ask of him is beyond selfish, and knowing that this might be the first time he’ll ever tell you no.

You stay quiet for a beat too long, relishing in the caress of his thumb across the back of your hand. A soothing technique he’s developed solely for you over the course of the last couple of years. “Are you alright?”

You get the urge to cry again, but you don’t. Your head drops so that you can stare at your lap, now unable to make eye contact.

“Baby,” he asks, a hint of panic in his voice. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His hands come up to cup your face, calloused palms feeling warm against your skin.

“Nothing,” you lie, biting your lip.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” He murmurs, eyes flickering from yours to your lips. “I’ll listen.”

“I know.” You sigh, pulling at his wrists and turning your head to break the touch. You look back for a second, only to find a rather heartbroken expression on his face.

“What?” He asks quietly. “What’s wrong?”

You take a breath, suddenly feeling trapped. You need to say it. You need to say something. He should be on his way to patrol right now, and here you are, taking up his precious time. You should hurry up and say what you have to say so that he can go.

But I don’t want him to go. You think.

“Izuku,” you say.

He meets your eyes, brows furrowing at the emotion he can’t quite decipher in them.

“Izuku, I want you to quit being a hero.”

—

After saying such a thing, you seemingly snapped out of your trance and immediately took back your words. Izuku tried to ask you what you meant, and begged you to just talk to him. But you stood up and walked to the front door, knowing that he’d follow you—like he always does.

You told him to have a good day at work, and shrugged him away when he attempted to grab your arms. Scurrying off to your shared bedroom, you closed and locked the door behind you. You heard the knob turn some, then a small knock at the door. Izuku called your name, “Open the door.”

You didn’t, telling him again to have a good day at work. A lingering silence followed.

“Please.” He said. “Can you please open the door?”

You faltered for a moment, fingers aching to turn the knob and let him in. But still, you didn’t.

Izuku hesitated to leave, but ultimately had no other choice when he received a call from one of his colleagues, telling him to “get his shitty ass down here.”

—

Izuku came home early that night, far too early, in fact. Early enough for your dinner to still be hot—which hasn’t happened in months. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, watching Izuku sitting before you.

He ate slowly, complementing your cooking. Only taking a couple swigs of his drink every now and then. He seemed so unlike himself from a night ago. Making small talk, which you responded to in small phrases or single words.

He finished his dinner, wiping his mouth with a napkin. You met eyes. “This morning”—you cringed—“when you told me that you wanted me to quit, you meant it, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t speak, your tongue feeling like lead in your mouth. So you mustered up enough strength to nod. It’s not so much that you wanted him to quit as you know that being a hero was his biggest dream growing up—you could never deny him that. But it’s more so that you want him to be safe. You can’t say that though as it seems your mouth refuses to open.

“I knew it.” He doesn’t say it bitterly, or even matter-of-factly. It’s soft, breathy. He stays quiet for a beat. “Do you miss me?”

You frown. “It’s more than that, Izuku.”

“I know.” He says. “I’m not really home for dinner, not here when you shower, or go to bed. Not here when you wake up or go to work. Not really here in general—”

“It’s not that.” You say, frown deepening.

“Then what is it?” You hate how he speaks to you. Not stiffly or angrily. It’s all too kind, too understanding. Too compassionate and empathetic.

“It’s—” you meet his eyes again, breath taken away by how sincere of a look he’s giving you. You can’t help but be honest then. “I’m scared.”

“Scared?” He asks, brows furrowing. “Of what? Or… who?” He scratches his cheek, trying to think of what he couldn’t protect you from—which is practically nothing, considering he’s the number 1 pro hero. Not to mention, you yourself were pretty well-versed in combat. To this day, you could probably toss Izuku on his ass if he wasn’t careful. He couldn’t think of anything that would scare you.

“Nothing.” You say. “No one. I’m scared… I’m scared of—” why can’t you bring yourself to say it?

He doesn’t say anything, allowing you to gather your thoughts and conjure up something to say.

“I’m scared of you—”

“Of me?”

“No!” You whine. “I’m scared of you getting hurt, alright?”

“Oh,” he murmurs. He mulls over your words for a moment. He isn’t quite sure what to say. “Well… I haven’t gotten hurt yet.”

“First of all, that’s a lie.” You sigh heavily, wanting to point out the new scar he was sporting the other day, but you choose not to. “And second—Izuku, that’s not the point.”

“I know,” he repeats quietly.

“You’re not invincible.”

“I know—”

“If you say ‘I know’ one more time—”

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, clutching your fork rather tightly. You can do nothing but sit and stare. You don’t know what to say. Your grip tightens to the point that it begins to hurt.

Izuku looks over at your hand, stands, and gently pries the utensil out of your fingers. He smooths his thumb over your reddening palm. Using both hands, he pushes and pulls the skin as though it’ll make the indent stretch and disappear. Bringing your hand to his mouth, he kisses your palm gently. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Really, I am.”

One kiss turns into two, then two into three. He gradually moves his lips down to kiss your wrist and brings your hand to cup his face. He nuzzles his cheek into your palm and sighs contentedly.

“I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

—

“You miss me?” Izuku says, tossing his bag down onto the floor. He kicks off his boots unceremoniously and quickly climbs into bed with you, still clad in his jacket and sweats. His cheeks are a bit rosy from the chill outside.

You roll your eyes and continue to read your book as he wraps his arms around your waist, his cheek resting near your belly.

He looks up at you, eyes gleaming with love. “Baby,” it’s whiny and teasing. “Look at me.”

You glance at him over the top of your book, seemingly unamused. Using his pointer finger, he pushes the book down gently to reveal your face to him. Smiling stupidly, he takes your chin and pulls you down some until your lips meet.

“You can’t stay mad at me forever.” He says.

You set your book down with a huff. “I’m not mad!”

“Are so,” he says, turning over to lay his head flat. “You do that foot tapping thing when you’re mad.”

“I’m not”—you look down to see that your right foot is in fact tapping subtly against the sheet. “That doesn’t mean I’m mad.” You say heatedly.

“Whatever you say, baby.” He glances your way, lips tugging up at the sight of your frown. You’re adorable.

He lets the silence eat away at you, knowing you’ll fess up if he just lets you simmer for a bit. “You came home early!”

“What?” He says, sitting up so that he can see you face-to-face. His left eyebrow raises. “You’re mad because I came home early?”

“No!” You say, taking a moment to watch your tone as you realize how mean you sound. “No. It’s just”—you sigh, closing your eyes. “If you had told me you were going to be home, I could’ve…”

“Could’ve what?” now you’ve really got his attention.

“Could’ve… I don’t know”—you sigh again, feeling frustrated. Every time you see him, it’s like your tongue begins to twist—“I could’ve done something for you. Like, made you lunch or something. Or we could’ve gone out. I don’t know.”

“Awh, baby.” He coos, that insistent smile returns. He grabs your arms, rubbing his large hands up and down them in a comforting manner. “It’s not too late, we still have time.”

“No,” you say sullenly. “It should have been a surprise.”

“Why?” He asks dumbly. Sometimes he really doesn’t understand you. Hardly ever, but when he doesn’t, he really doesn’t.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, shrugging your shoulders. “I guess I wanted to make you feel special.”

He pauses, his cheeks reddening. He dips his head so that you don’t catch the blush blooming on his face. “It’s alright, I don’t need a surprise to feel special, baby.” His hands speed up, a nervous impulse that gives away his sudden shyness.

You turn to look at him, head tilting as you find that he has ducked his head. You can’t quite see his face. “Izuku?” You ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” He says a bit too quickly.

You hum in question, peering closer. “Are you blushing?”

“What?” He sputters. “No!”

“You are!” You say, excitedly. “Oh my god!”

“No,” he groans, cupping his own face in an attempt to cover it up.

He lets you laugh and tease all you want, fighting back another smile until you finally sober up. “Izuku,” you say, drawing his attention.

His eyes shine innocently. “Yeah?”

“What can I do for you?” You ask. “To make you feel special, I mean.”

He ponders on it for a bit, but not long. “Nothing.” He pauses for another beat before saying, “I already feel special when I’m with you. There’s nothing I want you to do for me.”

Although your heart swoons at his words, you can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Was there really nothing you could do for him?

“You sure?” You are looking in his eyes when you notice them darken subtly. Had you not been looking, you wouldn’t have caught it.

“Well,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to the sheets. “Could you let me—wou—would you let me… Never mind.”

“What? No!” You scoot closer to him, grabbing his hands and pulling them to you. “Tell me, tell me!”

“Well, uh,” he looks up at the ceiling, suddenly unable to make eye contact. “Well, uhm, would you let me… Would you, maybe…”

“Izuku,” you drop his hand to place your left hand on his shoulder, your right hand still holding one of his. “You can say anything, seriously.”

“Okay,” he sighs, looking unsure. “Uhm, what I’m trying to say is… Could I maybe eatyouout?”

You blink. “What?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself.”

Because Izuku is always so busy on patrol, it’s been a minute since he’s given oral. You still get intimate every now and then, but you hardly have time for foreplay. You never ask because you know he’s busy and feel that it’s selfish of you to do so.

Little do you know, he’s been craving it but holding back because you haven’t asked for it.

“Oh,” you say. “Well, if that’s all”—you slip off your shorts.

“Oh.” He repeats, mouth agape. He didn’t think it would be this easy. He honestly thought you’d say no, or laugh his request off. He has to stop himself from looking as eager as he feels. “Okay.”

It takes him a second to act, to move. His large, calloused hands smoothing over your inner thighs and spreading your legs. He lets out a hushed curse at the sight in between. He looks up at you, then down, then up, and down again.

“May I?”

You bite your lip, words stuck in your throat as you nod. He doesn’t hesitate any longer, kissing at your clothed clit and licking through the fabric at your hole. He can only handle so much before he hooks his finger on the bridge of your panties and pulls it over to reveal you to him.

“Fuck.” He breathes, shuddering with excitement at the prospect of what’s to come. He sucks at your clit, drawing circles around it with your tongue. His hands cup under your knees, forcing your legs up higher as you tremble beneath him. He can’t help but think of how beautiful you are as he tugs your panties off and tosses them aside. They were only getting in his way.

His tongue delves into your hole, greedily drinking up all you have to offer until you’re begging for mercy. “Izuku, please!”

“I know,” he mumbles. “I know.” He presses a finger in, easing it back and forth as he kisses your clit. Then, a second, speeding up to a punishing pace.

Your fingers curled into his hair, gripping harshly, but you know it’s nothing that Izuku can’t take. He twists his fingers, curling them expertly in a way that has you gasping. Adding a third finger to ensure you’ll be stretched enough to take him. Adding a particularly pointed thrust of his fingers, he feels you tighten around them. Pulling away only to suck off your juices obscenely, tongue flicking between his pointer and middle fingers.

“You’re so wet,” his eyes are heavy-lidded, lips wet with your release. He’s staring down, seemingly infatuated with your pussy. “I missed this. I missed you, baby. So much.”

You feel your skin warm, embarrassment setting in. “Shut up.” You grumble, your tone holding no heat. He simply smiles at you, eyes glancing down at himself then back up to you with a more sheepish expression. You look down, finding that there’s an obvious tent in his sweats. One spot in particular seems damp with pre.

You don’t say anything, opening your legs just a bit wider to invite him in. He quickly shucks off his jacket, kicking off his pants, and pulling down his boxers. He eases his way through your legs, his hips bumping your knees and thighs out of the way as he closes in on you. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He says quietly, breathily.

You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as he leans closer, curving in over you. He presses his throbbing tip to your hole. He slides his tip from your clit to your hole once, twice, making you ache with need. He’s big, moreso in width than in length. But his length is certainly nothing to ignore either. You catch sight of a neat patch of curly green hair—it’s all sticky with pre, looks like he might have come while eating you out—and a smattering of freckles that you can just barely make out right above his pelvis.

“Fuuuck,” he whines, teasing you both as he presses the tip in, then backs out, and presses in again. The stretch of it alone has you squirming. “Think you can handle me?”

It’s one of the very few times Izuku’s teasing sounds a bit too mean. His eyes are dark and his smile seems so smug all of a sudden. He’s only teasing, but you can’t take it. “Hurry, please!”

“Why,” he aligns himself with you. “We’ve got all night, baby.” Then, he thrusts in. He slides it all in in one go, leaving you writhing and panting. You feel him shudder against you, strong thighs pressed up against your ass. His eyes roll back, a hiss blowing through his teeth.

He doesn’t make you wait any longer, speeding up to a rhythmic pace, neither too slow nor too fast. You can hardly keep your eyes open, squeezing them shut in an attempt to drown out the immense pleasure you feel as the curve of his cock stretches you deliciously. He’s strong, every thrust jolting your body and taking your breath. Your toes curl as he hits the rough patch inside of you, hips grinding against you once he realizes.

“That feel good? You like that?”

You can only nod numbly, body tingling. Your hands grasp the sheets beneath you, back arching. His hands slide under your shirt, greedily groping at your breasts as he eases the fabric up and out of the way. He mouths at the skin, relishing in the moan you let out in response. He sucks the plump flesh, squeezing as he slows his thrusts. It’s agonizing.

He tongues at your neck, kissing and sucking, hands still on your breast. Thrusts slow, but still hard enough to shake the bed frame. You wonder how it withstands his power.

“You’re making me feel so special, baby.” He chokes out, voice muffled in the place where your shoulder and neck meet. “Sooo—fucking—special.” He accentuates every word with a thrust.

A hint of light catches your eye, a green and black swirling pattern spiraling over his forearms. Black Whip, you recall vaguely. Hardly able to understand as your brain has turned to mush at the slow strokes of his cock. The whip latches on to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. It doesn’t hurt, only buzzes gently against your skin.

Izuku begins to gasp and sputter against you, lips kissing yours messy and wet. He looks at you with heavy lidded eyes, lips swollen and red from biting. His hair is even more of a mess than usual and his cheeks are blushing a pretty red. You can see the muscles in his lower abdomen contract, his thighs tensing. He looks so feral, but you aren’t afraid. Even with as much power as Izuku possesses, you know he’d never be a threat to you.

Your belly tightens at the thought, his pelvis rubbing pleasantly your clit when he thrusts in, hips grinding slowly. Your head thrums with pleasure, ears ringing a bit as he groans above you. The coil in your stomach snaps suddenly, your pussy spasming around him. “Oh,” he mumbles hazily, unable to stop himself from coming undone.

His cum fills you, thick and hot, cock pulsing. You throb with pleasure, fingers twisting the sheets until they nearly come up. Colors and shapes dancing behind your eyes, you sink further into the afterglow.

It takes a full minute for him to calm, Black Whip gradually disappearing into his skin as his hands gently release their hold on you. He eases out slowly, evermore careful when you groan at the loss of touch. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Might have overdone it.”

You sit up rather groggily, pushing up on your hands despite Izuku worrying over you and telling you to lay back down and rest. “Don’t be.” You smile at him softly, a hand coming up to cup his face.

His anxious expression melts away as he nuzzles into your palm, intertwining the fingers of your free hand with his. He allows a similar smile to grace his lips, “I’ll start coming home early from now on.” He says.

For a moment, you think he’s joking and laugh quietly. But there’s a certain look of determination in his eyes, one you don’t bother to combat as he explains how he’ll double his work effort in half an amount of hours on patrol so that he’ll have more time to spend with you, even if that means handing over the workload to Bakugo—who he already talked to this about, being sure to include the opinions of his task force too.

“I don’t think he’d mind,” Izuku says softly. “He’s always saying he could do it better.” You both laugh, smiling stupidly at each other. Izuku stands, saying that he’ll get you water and start a bath. You nod, unable to voice just how grateful you are for him. Just before he exits the room, he turns to you. “Oh, I almost forgot! I know you told me to be more careful and—and I am, so…” he stops short when he sees the look of utter adoration you’re giving him. He chuckles, feeling his face warm. “So you don’t have to worry about me, we’ve got a new buddy system and everything. I’ll make sure I come home to your every night. I’ll keep my promise, okay? So don’t worry.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, running off to fetch a new set of sheets for the bed. Even though he can’t hear you, you still speak.

“Okay.”

#izuku smut #izuku x reader smut #tw smut #smut tw #tw unprotected sex #it’s been so long .. i literally don’t know how to do this stuff anymore. how do I tag this :/#bnha smut #mha smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #midoriya izuku smut #izuku midoriya smut

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