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ms0milk · 1 year

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𝟔 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You dread what would have happened if His Highness accompanied you here. You dread what you would have to do to this crowd to keep them from touching him."

cw bkg 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼 unethical rescue tactics, reader is a bit scantily clad (thin nightgown) and someone has big feelings abt it. temporary sense of claustrophobia, descriptions of a very crowded room. i love aizawa i love uraraka i love kirishima i love poor deku i hope you enjoy this protective fluff. 4.1k

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Uraraka Ochako is functioning on four hours of sleep and a few well timed snacks. She’s led morning stretches for the first-shift guards, floated smithing equipment to the forge, freed a bird from the clocktower, and worked Sero’s horrible tape off the back of a fireproof Alderan cloak.

Since midnight it’s been nothing but Alderans pilling up in the courtyard. Every time staff thought they’d collected the last of them, two more would tumble through the gates– one fell from the fucking sky. Captain Hawks deployed from the garrisons at the sight of a flare and dropped Kirishima on castle grounds, crispy, an hour later.

Uraraka has made her morning rounds four times over and polished her cuisses to thinning. She helped Miss Nemuri battle the Alderan Prince to bed and found furs for singed Kirishima. Even off-duty she’s still in her greaves and chausses because without weight on her legs she’d get so distracted she might simply float away. She couldn’t sleep. Not when there was one person missing all night. Until half an hour ago, everyone from the forest fire was accounted for except for Master Aizawa.

When she enters the throne room ahead of you, he’s standing beside the queen no worse for his usual wear. There are a menacing amount of people squeezed inside and the wall of open windows does nothing to make the crowd less oppressive. Off-shift guards, generals, military personnel, butlers, even the kitchen staff are spriting from one corner of the room to the other to try and provide the unexpected guests with appropriate refreshments. You look pale when Uraraka checks behind her, and you feel cold in her hand.

“Y/n?”

You nod, but don’t quite look at her. You’re busy peering out at the seagulls flying past and stumbling on your nightgown hem, like crossing the threshold of the throne room stripped you of all the coordination you displayed just minutes ago. The hodgepodge of royal advisors have squeezed into this modest room for an emergency meeting, but they’re shouting and squabbling like a group of children loud enough to deafen horses at the edge of town. They’re here because of the flame mage.

Uraraka stops trying to navigate through the crowd and turns to you, “Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m alright.”

Do you realize you’re whispering? Or that you answered too quickly?

She pulls your hand a bit and steps even closer, “Is it like last night– like the poison?”

One voice cannot be heard over another, one face cannot be seen for long before moving behind a chest or shoulder or otherwise being walked in front of. Uraraka realizes it was silly to take you from the hospital directly to the queen, even if you were requested. She should have objected. To be fair to herself, she didn’t anticipate the chaos.

A gentleman trips on the corner of a rug and causes enough of a fuss around the pair of you that you’re being bumped by guests from all angles. You look agitated.

“Do you need a chair?”

“Just tell me what your queen needs from me.”

The sound of your heartbeat shouldn’t be so loud in your ears considering the long hum of hundreds of voices around you. You realize you’re staring at the floor and when you look back up, Uraraka stands just inches away with a grounding hold on your hand. She's warm too, like Kirishima. Too warm, she’s too close to you and her hold is too tight.

There’s a bit of movement in the space beside your head and taking a second to focus, Uraraka spies a shock of green hair bumbling through the throng towards her. She knows this particular friend will not be a huge help in this particular moment but what she doesn’t anticipate is your light footwork the second he breaks through the crowd. Poor Deku. He would have been okay if he hadn’t steadied himself on your shoulder after wrestling free of the crowd.

“Hey Och–!”

With eyes still unfocused and balance still off, you kick a foot between his legs, take solid hold of his hand, and then he’s flying– fully airborne– over the back of your head and onto the marble floor. Uraraka barley pushes a pair of diplomats behind her fast enough to keep his red boot from knocking out any teeth. A hush ripples immediately through the crowd.

“Deku you can’t just grab people!”

The short young man gapes up at you from the spot where you have him pinned to the floor. Freckles and nervous eyes, a slight smile, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back immediately.

“That’s enough!” Another voice, a tired voice, breaks through the mortifying silence and kick-starts the chaos again. You release your hold on the boy who is quick to pick himself up and bow his head, but people are moving, generals or ordering, waitstaff are fussing, all around you again. You don’t have Uraraka’s hand to hold. The boy could be apologizing, his mouth is moving for sure, Uraraka is gone– you’re trying to excuse yourself to a young woman whose foot you’ve tread, but she’s replaced by an old man in blue cloaks, then he’s replaced by a spindly child with a silver horderve tray and it’s becoming terribly difficult to stay afloat.

“Y/n,” The tired voice becomes clear again. You raise your head and Aizawa is standing in front of you, borne from the crowd pushing past. He takes another step forward and it’s so much easier to concentrate on his dark coat in the colorful chaos.

He doesn’t seem to be burned, or maimed, or...ghost-like, and he is not phased by the swarms of expensively dressed men shouldering past the pair of you. You don’t know where the boy or Uraraka went and you haven’t introduced yourself to the queen who must be in here s–

“Y/n.”

“Yes, sir.” You snap back to attention.

Aizawa’s caught your eyes wandering to the windows again and when he says your name it’s low and clear, “May I?” You nod. He pinches the collar of your nightgown with his long fingers and clasps the silver neckline closed with a brooch.

“You’re in the throne room. How do you feel?”

“Well, sir.”

“You were injured last night, do you feel any side effects?”

“I’m–I feel fuzzy.”

Panic subsides with nothing to focus on but the man in front of you. He stands close and works slowly. When your eyes are no longer pounding with your pulse you take a glimpse of his handiwork at your chest and melt a little at the shining dragontooth below your collarbone. White and unburnt, heavy and familiar. Aizawa rests his hand over your chest when he finishes his adjustments and your heartbeat slows considerably under the pressure. No one bumps into you anymore.

“You were very brave last night Y/n, thank you.”

You think you thank him in response but you’re having a difficult time taking your eyes off his hand where that pressure keeps your lungs from overflowing with panic. You close them instead.

“You’re in the throne room, are you meant to be here?”

“Yes sir.”

“You don’t like tight spaces do you?”

“I’m alright, sir.”

“It helps to focus on one thing in a situation like this.” He lifts from your dragontooth and replaces the warmth with two hands on either shoulder. Briefly, he glances over your head to the crowd undulating, not daring to crash into the black guard, before tipping his head back down to you,

“What are your orders? You should be in bed.”

The presence of the crowd beyond their clicking howling and clinking is only in the absence of fresh air to breathe. The overwhelming chaos of the room is subdued now, dull save for seagull cries and Master Aizawa watches on patiently like he knows that he’s the reason for your peace.

How many orders had you received this week? You blink a few times as you remember and become fully aware of the tragedy of your mission; Queen Mitsuki’s letter to Her Majesty Todoroki, one of the only two things you were tasked with protecting, is ash in a forest miles away.

“I– have no orders. I was requested for an audience.”

“Unhand me!”

Aizawa’s hand at your shoulders becomes a grip when new noise vibrates from a far corner of the room.

“– if you don’t–!”

A horrible tide overcomes the crowd, slowly at first, then the pull of a thousand eyes, heads and legs towards the sound of the commotion. Exactly what you always dread, the sea of people begins to churn and it is never the threat of the crowd that chills you but what a crowd can do to itself.

The voice turns into many which turns into shouting over the single note of chatter. They’re fighting, someone has started a fight in the throne room and you haven’t even managed to catch a glimpse of the queen or her mighty entourage yet so the room must be vast and the crowd must be plenty and there is a much higher chance than you’re comfortable with, of stampede.

The old guard doesn’t have time to be gentle with you when he pulls away, “Can you manage the crowd?”

“Yes sir.”

And you both understand that this is an order, not a question, not a concern.

“Shinsou!” He calls over your head before diving into the thrawl, “Help our Alderan control this traffic.”

As Aizawa disappears into the swell, the relief of Shinsou’s name floods. Every member of your party had been recovered from last night’s fire. You swivel, hoping to catch sight of the young guard coming your way before you begin to help the Takoban staff herd these guests like Aizawa instructed, but instead of Shinsou there are a pair of wide redrimmed eyes standing much too close.

“You’re the Alderan guard?”

Heads turn.

When a great gaggle of creatures come together, it is the sheepdog’s job to gather them. When a dragon takes up residence in a castle it’s mistaken for a jewel rich cave, it is an Alderan’s job to come and relocate them.

“I heard him say it,” the person presses closer, “you’re a member of the Alderan party.”

Sometimes though it is a sheep’s job to wreak as much havoc as possible. The crowd, still generally flowing toward the tussle at the front of the room, has decided that you too are interesting.

“Have you spoken to the queen?” Is the first of many things you hear when a wall of well dressed backs becomes a ring of eager faces.

“Where is your–”

“–does Aldera have–”

As you attempt to find footing suitable for a military member of your standing, a stiff breeze reminds you that you’re not wearing anything more than a cotton nightgown. There’s no sword at your hip, no medals at your chest past Jeanist’s heirloom dragontooth, and only a flimsy ribbon holding back your braid.

“– can you– will this affect the–”

“–was quick!”

“How hot–”

The Takoban King must truly love war for his council to be so large, and for the people in it to be so joyous in their involvement. Flies on corpses.

More and more people break away from the forward flow of the crowd as they realize who you are and not one of them thinks to give you breathing space. You become the room’s second center of gravity. Where the hell is Shinsou?

“I will answer–” you attempt and then spin to apologize to a man you’ve bumped into, “– your questions– I will–”

What is causing this fuss? One bandit in the woods? Alderan company? Are these the manners of Takoba?

Your breath sticks to your throat in the questioning swarm while they push you deeper through them– like you’ve been swallowed by a great snake. You can’t embarrass your country by using force on royal advisors but the constriction of your arms against your side makes it difficult not to raise your voice.

“Where is your party?”

“Who is– charge–”

“You’ve brought danger!”

“Where is your prince?”

Your prince. You dread what would have happened if His Highness and friends accompanied you here. You dread what you would have to do to this crowd to keep them from touching him.

“Excuse me,” you duck as you murmur lukewarm apologies in escape. You must find Shinsou.

A short woman in tails is at your eye-level like this and she begins a barrage of questions about Alderan foreign policy when you error eye contact. One foot in front of the next only introduces you to a new polished nobel and either their disdain or their cross examination. Pushing forward isn’t working. What happened to the vast throne room? Why does it shrink when you move through it?

Your clothes are too tight– your skin is too tight and the hair brushing the back of your neck will surely kill you. You jerk an arm when a brave soul grabs hold of your bicep and force your shoulder stiff in its socket to stop yourself from striking. Their voices melt into itching static, you feel their mosquito bites in the goosebumps of your flesh.

“Where–”

How will you help to manage this crowd when you can’t even walk through it? You don’t want to be alone anymore, this– you, you won’t remember how to get back now.

“You’re a soldier?”

“– and how many–”

“Alderan! Were there weapons or onl–”

A firecracker pop screams in the open air above all of you and you’re gasping when your hearing comes back, long enough to focus on the whistle and crack of a shot in the chamber. One more keeps the static from filling your ears again, and steals the attention of the generals not yet bored by your silence.

“Move,” detonates as a voice off the walls.

Bodies roll past you, through you, to continue their questions without getting crushed by the parting crowds. They can’t yet see the person attached to the voice or the reason for the parting, but you know the owner of the sparks that splash across the blue-green ceiling, and you would follow them forever and a day.

Prince Bakugou, in all his milk golden glory steps through the swarm like a threat.

Generals that swallow you whole don’t approach him and you itch to be closer, but the questions don’t subside just because a new Alderan guest has appeared and in fact they seize on the opportunity to ask you for an introduction.

Your heartbeat is just the ringing of a dented bell, over, and over again and you feel its pulse in your jaw when you open your mouth to speak. No words come out now– now that your arms are trapped at your side and you’ll never be free of this–

“Oi!”

The bell rings louder.

“What–you! Off of her!”

And the person taking their turn to interrogate you is flung forcefully from frame, along with the waitstaff they grab in a panic and take to the ground. And he’s right there, the prince standing directly before you, a vast clearing behind him, growling and billowing smoke. His red eyes aren’t gentle but they pierce your soul with warm homesick.

Having tossed aside the only things between you, other advisors trip over themselves to escape the prince’s course. Some even try to hide behind you. Gold crackles in his palms as he watches you hurriedly catch your breath– why is he here? He’s close enough to touch again and he’s cleared a path to you like the room was empty.

“Highness,” you bow your head and rush to blink the last of the shock from your eyes.

The prince grits his teeth. The veins in his jaw splinter his sculpted cheeks, “You–” he growls. The crowds swell behind him in both size and volume and then flinch when he jerks back around, “– you dare treat an Alderan like your entertainment! Filthy fucking searats–” an explosion from each hand punctuates his rage.

You flinch. Your eyes flood at the sudden noise and your proximity to it, though something more exhausted than tears, and you realize you may be the one in need of a doctor out of the pair of you.

“C’mere,” the prince locks eyes with an unfortunately close diplomat and snatches their furred collar to many cries and general protest from the fleeing crowd, “You think it’s funny eh? To pull a member of my party from the hospital and ambush her in her bedclothes?” The man sheds a few tears of his own as the prince shakes him.

On the first day of winter the queen and her son Dance Peruro with their citizens. Paint their faces with pomegranate wine and strip off their furs to the waist, and then open the caste gates to let townsfolk pour in for feasts and holiday songs. You are always terribly anxious on the sidelines with Jeanist while trying to follow the crowd’s skipping and yowling to make sure that the queen is safe. The king watches his family from the sidelines too, but much less anxiously and mostly with hands full of food.

In the dance, wild limbs fly like fist fight and there is always, always shouting. Screaming thanks to the heavens while leaping round a great bonfire to singsong horns and strings. The Dance Peruro is destructive and it’s beautiful to watch two pairs of red eyes full of joy, dance together in the crowd that loves them.

Bakugou looks elated in this scene, red eyes slits and filled with excitement. Gold twinkles in his ears. He finally gets to flex his magic even if it is inside another kingdom’s throne room and practiced on another kingdom’s citizens, but how on Earth you’re going to apologize to the Takoban queen– to master Aizawa– you have no idea.

The prince raises his captive off their feet and hurls them into the crowd hard enough to knock a few sturdy generals to the ground. His arms threaten to tear from the confines of his silky white shirt in his passion. With his back turned you still know exactly the expression he’s making and you’re just relieved that he’s safe. It doesn’t cross your mind to detain him.

“Gimme those pretty coats or I’ll skin them off you.”

Just about everyone within earshot either scrambles backwards or starts to strip their outer layers in confusion. An old man in fine blue robes flees through the clearing at the exact time that the masses start to shuffle and thrum against one another, but Bakugou snatches him by the back of the neck and releases a hellstorm of orange and pink strong enough to eject the man from his capes and clear across the room.

“Classic Takoba hospitality, huh? You parade all your guests around in their underwear?”

With the space created by your prince’s rage, the full glory of the throne room becomes clear. In the empty circle around the pair of you the fine white rugs shine like spotlights. They’re stitched with blue emblems– blue flames– that climb across the floor, from stone to window, elven door to throne. The throne.

Most of the crowd has rushed to the entrance in escape, no doubt trapping Aizawa with their terrible fuss, and so the crystalline space all the way at the back of the room is open. And it is where the queen sits in her sea glass throne. Dozens of silver suited guards surround the base of her throne’s raised platform to protect her from your prince’s squalor, Shinsou and Uraraka among them– the freckled boy too.

It’s a struggle not to shout for help. Or rush to her side, for the queen’s fragility lights up every protective instinct, every resuscitative urge in your body; surely she is drowning and you are appalled momentarily, that no one feels it important to save her life.

Icy white skin reflects the light of the afternoon sun and her eyes are dark and sallow. They might even be closed but you’re not close enough to see. You should be closer, she needs someone to keep her from tumbling to the floor like a limply sewn doll. Long light hair trickles over her shoulders to the point where her skirts meet her bodice like a shoreline. She is made of lace. Lace instead of flesh and seems too cold and stiff to survive another moment without proximity to a fireplace. Her Majesty sits with her hands in her lap and does not react to the chaos.

Behind you, your prince is a shark in a school of fish. Royal advisors at the back of the line to flee, panic earnestly now and guards at the edge of the room rim the onlookers, unsure of whether they’re permitted– or able– to subdue this royal guest. But the prince doesn’t snatch anymore lords and instead turns to you as candy sweet smoke rises to the ceiling now that no one is as interested in bothering Alderans as they are in finding something else, deep inside the castle, to busy themself with.

He’s still grinning when he swings around, but you’re not fooled, not even by his concern. You anticipate the scowl before his grin falls because you know that hates to look at you.

If your bad habit is eye contact you fear the prince’s may be aversion.

“Cover yourself,” he grumbles and thrusts the old man’s blue robes into your chest but he doesn’t let go quite fast enough. He holds both you and the stolen clothes there like someone who has something more to say, so you blink up to him. Your white nightgown whips around your calves.

Prince Bakugou was poured from molten gold. He doesn’t look at you but he doesn’t storm away, he doesn’t leave the clearing that he’s made for the two of you and you think he’s trying to say something when his gaze finally flickers from the space above your head to someplace below your dragontooth.

You can tell he’s holding back something calloused and loud by the way he bites hard at his lip. Instead he growls low in the space between you, “Return to your room at once.” And then barks for Kirishima.

“Coming!” The kind voice replies, echoing somehow in every direction. From your spot in the center of the room you can just barely make out red hair and a raised arm milling through the last fifty or so people trying to squeeze through the silver doors and out into the safety of the castle entryway. The Champion is much more polite than his prince and winds his hulking body gracefully through the throng before finally stumbling into the clearing. The prince doesn’t have any trouble looking at Kirishima.

“Take her back– get back upstairs, the lot of you. I don’t wanna hear a single Alderan peep for the rest of the day.”

This feels hypocritical, but Kirishima just smiles like a bowl of bread dough and takes up the open space by your side when the prince begins marching to the back of the room.

Anticipating your concern the Champion leans down to explain, “He has a formal audience with the queen.”

It’s too far to see clearly, but the Queen of Takoba hasn’t seemed to move a single inch in the past few minutes. How is Bakugou going to speak with a ghost?

Kirishima gestures to the piles of rumpled clothes at your feet that the prince threatened off of people in the crowd, “And it looks like you have your pick of fine coats, Y/n.” The smile of his voice keeps you from speculating for too long. You know it’s time to go.

The sweet giant takes the cloak from your arms as he guides you back into the depths of the castle, and you note the gentle way he secures it around your shoulders without touching you at all, “Where is Aizawa?” you ask while nodding your thanks.

“Oh he's taking a long drink in the kitchens.”

With the Champion at your side, you give the throne one more glance over your shoulder before stepping through the silver doors, but at this distance you can only distinguish Shinsou and his blue windswept tunic from the crowd of guards and your prince. You raise your hand beside your head in parting and the apprentice slips his own out from where he’s standing formal and so, so far away, with his hands behind his back. You smile.

While you and Kirishima puzzle your way back through the castle, off in the distances beyond great columns and disgruntled chilly diplomats, through the windy, salty, seashell castle, a blue light quivers in the dark.

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#eeheheeehee i love protective violence #and robbery #a hymn to black water #can you tell how sick of editing i was by the end #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #aizawa shota #shinsou hitoshi #uraraka ochako #kirishima eijirou #oh boy im redesigning my tag system and i am a woman exhausted by all this organization

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xxaraaq · 1 year

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𝘽𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧

Sorry that I didn't post anything for like three months, but it dont matter anymore, cus I'm here now

MILF! Ochako Ururaka x Black!Fem!reader

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

At the ripe age of thirty two, Uruaka Ochako would consider herself to be a great mother. But with her boys, nine, seven, and four – she’s so fucking tired. Tired of not being able to catch a break, tired of not being able to live her life as a young woman, and really fucking tired of having a man child of a husband who couldn’t give less of a shit about her and their kids.

She’s tried to be okay with it, but she just cant be. But when she voices it, all she's met with – ‘it’s not like he's cheating on you, he probably just doesn’t find you attractive anymore.’ or ‘just lose some weight or offer to do more, he’s obviously distant for a reason’. And she’s tried all these things, so, so many times. But nothing ever worked, so she’s just given up. And maybe she just had shitty friends, but the two of you first, she had actually felt something.

“So wait – you're telling me that you haven’t had sex in how long?” You whisper, choking on your drink “Eleven months.” She sighs, taking a drink of her mimosa – she hadn��t touched her husband intimately in almost a year, and it was getting to her. She was getting antsy, and she was getting tired of pleasuring herself on her own.

“I would commit suicide, like, actually kill myself. Are you ok?” and Uruaka knows that she’s not, but there isn't anything she could really do.

“I’ve been so stressed out that I don’t know what today is, I’m not even joking.” She says, the fatigue apparent on her figure

“I seriously don’t know why you won’t get a divorce, I will literally move in with you to help out with the kids if that’s what it takes.” And your serious, the look in your eyes directed right at her

“If I could just get one day, that’s all I would need.” She groans, dreaming of the day where that happens

As the conversation goes along, her husband, m/n, comes up. “Hey honey, me and the boys are gonna go watch the game at Mikey’s house. I’ll be back later.” He says, turning away soon after. With an eye roll and shooing hand, she sends him off with malice in her heart.

“He really gets on my fuckin nerves.” You say, side eyeing him as he walks away with his friends.

“I genuinely don’t care anymore.” Ochako says, getting up to go to the kitchen

Following after her, you close the door behind you, pulling down the blinds

“What’s wrong?” You say, opening your arms for an embrace

“I am so sick of him.” She says, a shake in her voice

“I know baby, I know.” You say, rubbing soothing circles on her back

“I get that he doesn’t care about me, but can he at least fucking act like it.” She cries into your chest

“He doesn’t deserve you, not like I do.” and she knew it was true

“Lemme make you feel better, how bout’ that?” You ask, pulling back from her

“W-what?” She, wiping the tears from her face

“You heard me, Ochako. Let me help you, you need it.”

The both of you know that anyone could walk in at any moment – but that didn’t stop you from kissing her – nor did it stop her from kissing you back. By the time she gained her senses back she was in her shared room.

“We can’t, everyone’s outside.” She says in between kisses

“We already are, and who cares, no one’s gonna come in here.” You shush her, attacking her neck with hickeys

She moans, grasping your hair in her hands – she doesn’t know why she keeps denying herself, she can’t even remember the last time she came by someone else’s touch.

“Fuck.” She moans, the feeling of your hands traveling over her breasts driving her mad.

You pull down the top of her light blue sundress, exposing her front to you.

“So pretty.” You groan, capturing her breast in your hand, rolling her nipple in between your fingers

Ochako whimpers at the feeling of your fingers toying with her, her getting wetter by the second.

“Take it off for me, yeah?” You ask, tugging at hem of her dress

Nodding, she quickly strips down, throwing it to a random spot in the room.

“So fucking gorgeous.” You utter, hands finding rest on her hips

“Don’t be weird.”She says, wrapping her arms around neck

She kisses you – passionately – as you lead her and yourself onto the bed. You suck on her neck as you make you way down to her thighs, lifting one onto your shoulder.

“Can I?” You ask, playing the fabric of her underwear

“Don’t ask me stupid questions.” She groans, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you smile

Taking her answer as a yes, you pull her panties off onto one ankle, licking a slow stripe up her slit. You rub slow circles on her thighs as you continue your assault on her cunt.

“Ohhhhh fuckkkk” She whines, throwing her head back in her ecstasy

“Tastes so good.” You mutter into her, the vibrations of your voice going straight to her core

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t let you touch her sooner – the fluid movements of your tongue making her delusional. But the best part is, all she has to do is sit there and take it.

You massage your thumb around her puckering hole before inserting two into her. “Shitttt” she mewls, holding both her legs up to her chest

“I can’t, s’ too much.” She slurs, her legs shaking as you slurp and suck up her excess

“You can do it mama, cum for me.” You say, moving your fingers in and out of her at an even quicker pace

“Shittttttttt” She screams, squirting onto you and the sheets

“Damn, I didn’t know you could squirt like that.” You say, licking her off of you

“I, I didn’t know either.” She exhales, letting her legs drop onto the now wet sheets

“Uh uh, why’d you let go.” You say, rubbing slow circles on her now puffy clit

“W-wait, we can’t keep going, everyone’s still outside.”

“And they’ll stay outside, I never said I was done with you. Eleven months is a long time y’know; I can’t let go now.” You explain, Entering her once more

Ochako moans as she thinks about what she got herself into. And she really, really hopes that everyone knows exactly where the bathroom is.

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

Yayy I post. Dont expect me to post until summer now byee.

-Nene

#Nene #boku no hero academia #urakara ochako #bnha ochaco uraraka #mha ochako #x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x fem reader #mha x black reader

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sinfulpanda16 · 4 months

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MHA Boys Reactions to You Being Their Secret Santa

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari x reader

Class 1-A decided to do a Secret Santa. How would the boys react when they find out their crush is their secret Santa? What did you get them??

Izuku Midoriya

Deku hands his gift to Kacchan.

"Give it stupid nerd" he snapped causing Midoriya to laugh awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. After opening the gift Midoriya goes back to sit on the couch.

"Alright now its Midoriya's turn!" Mina blurts out excitedly. Deku smiled excited to see who his secret Santa was. This whole time he thought Uraraka was his secret Santa but then you stand up and head towards him causing his cheeks to heat up. Oh shit you're getting closer! ////

You're standing right in front of him with a big Christmas bag, "Here you go Midoriya" you say smiling at him. Deku doesn't budge he's shocked till speechless, which makes the class giggle a bit. "Midoriya?" you call for him a bit worried and Deku comes back to reality. "Oh! Right I'm sorry!" he takes the gift from you.

After calming down a bit he begins to pull out the first thing which was a freaking bag of broccoli. The class laughs and you begin to explain yourself "You remind me of broccoli and every time I see you, I remember to eat my veggies" you giggle. Kaminari chimes in "Yeah same! He reminds to eat my greens lol". Midoriya gives a cute smile and begins to show the class the rest of his presents. You got him a new All Might Poster, new grip strengtheners, an All Might Notepad, some candy and some All Might socks lol.

Midoriya loved it all, he thanks you with a blushy face and can't wait to use all the presents his crush got him.

Katsuki Bakugou

He doesn't know how the hell yall convinced him to join in this stupid game. (He joined because you joined) Anyways there he was leaning against the wall. Kirishima just finished his haul of Christmas gifts Bakugou has given him so now it was time for his secret Santa to reveal himself.

'Please let it be Y/N or so help me-' his thought gets interrupted when you start walking towards him. Yes! When he saw that he didn't fish out your name during the raffle he was hoping that you would at least be his secret Santa. He was seriously about to hate being a part of this if you weren't his secret Santa.

You go up to him and he's looking into your eyes. You hand him his gift "Here Bakugou, this is for you" you say a bit quietly. He keeps staring into your eyes a small blush starting to form on his face. "Tch thanks" he says turning away from you.

"Ooh what did Y/N get Bakugou?!" Mina asks excitedly.

Denki smiles "Yeah I want to know! I wouldn't know what to get Kacchan."

"I would know" Todoroki says blankly causing Bakugou to yell out "SHUT UP HALF AND HALF! NO YOU WOULDN'T! "

You were still standing next to Bakugou, so you jumped a bit at his loud yell which caused Bakugou to sigh and calm himself down. He began showing everyone what you got him. "A new black tank top, sweatpants, a bunch of hot noodles, spicy candy and- THE HELL IS THIS?!" he pulls out a stuffed Pomeranian dog.

The class bursts out laughing "Haha Bakugo that looks like you!" Kirishima laughs. Bakugou turns to you giving you a 'WTF' look. "It's a Pomeranian puppy. I saw it and...it reminded me of you." you shyly explain. Had this been anybody else he would've exploded the damn thing, but he didn't, because it was you. He rolls his eyes "Thanks or whatever." You smile at him and head back to his seat. Bakugou was glad he was part of this stupid Secret Santa exchange.

Shoto Todoroki

He was sitting on the ground in his cute Santa Claus outfit next to you. It was time for his secret Santa to give him his gift. Everyone was actually curious about who could've gotten Todoroki. "Oh that's me. Here you go Todoroki." You smile at him handing him his present.

"Oh." he blushes a bit. "Thank you, Y/N." he says, taking the present.

Everyone watches excitedly as he unties the ribbon on the box and takes off the lid. Todoroki smiles softly "It's a chopstick bowl set along with a packet of soba" he says showing everyone.

"Aww that's really cute" Uraraka gushes along with the other girls.

Midoriya giggles "Yeah. Y/N did a good job with Todoroki's present" he states making everyone agree with him.

You blush at their words and Todoroki blushes at the fact that you actually know him pretty well. He didn't think you'd actually pay attention to him. Everyone goes back to focusing on the secret Santa. He turns to look at you "Thank you again Y/N. I really appreciate it" he tells you smiling softly.

You look back into his eyes "Of course. Merry Christmas Todoroki."

He goes to hug you and you hug him back "Merry Christmas Y/N"

Eijiro Kirishima

This was a blast he's been enjoying watching his friends give their presents, get their presents, laugh (he's been enjoying watching you have fun) but alas it was finally his turn. "Alright now its time for Kirishimas secrets Santa." Kaminari announces. Kirishima was so excited "Yeah! Lets see who my secret Santa is!" he says extatically.

You stand up and start heading towards Kirishima holding a bright red present bag for him, and why did the whole class start aweing? Kirishima's face was becoming bright red like his present. Truth is Kirishima has been very vocal to his friends about having a crush on you. It started with telling Bakugou, but he didn't give good advice on love, so he told the rest of his friends. You were kept in the dark though cuz you were confused as hell lol.

You sit next to him and hand him his gift. He takes the gift "Thank you" he says, and you return him a warm smile. How much cuter can you get he asks himself.

He opens the bag "Oh Wow! It's a red hoodie!" he says with joy.

"There's more" you say excitedly.

Kirishima start looking for more. "Oh, this is a Crimson Riot poster! And... wait is this the hair dye I use?" he asks in shock.

You laugh "Yeah. I would see this packaging in the trash."

Kirishima turns to look at you "Y/N this is awesome I love it. Thank you!" and you smile at him. "Aww your welcome. Merry Christmas" you say going in for a hug to which he happily returns. "Merry Christmas" he says back.

Little did yall know the whole class was watching you guys all like "Yes! My ship is sailing 🥰"

Denki Kaminari

Kaminari says in a cocky tone "Alright it's my turn. Where my gift?"

Jirou in an annoyed tone asks, "Who even got this fool?" to which you reply "I did" laughing.

Kaminari gets excited "Yes! Thank you I got a pretty secret Santa!". You roll your eyes playfully and go to give him his gift. "Here this is for you." Kaminari smiles widely "I'm special today!" and begins to open his gift.

Honestly the whole class was shocked. They didn't expect anyone to give him such nice things. A cologne, a chain, a ring, a nice shirt, and a jacket. Sero asks "Y/N is there a reason you bought him all this fancy stuff?" which is the same question the rest of the class had in mind.

"It's because Y/N respects me that's why." he says feeling proud. You shake your head "No, it's so you can actually get girls" you say making the class laugh.

Mina shakes her head "OMG Y/N you're such a good friend." she teases.

While the class laughs Kaminari turns to you and acts hurt "Ouch Y/N. You wound me." and you just give him a smile. "I was just kidding. I just wanted to gift you something nice cuz you've earned it." you say making him blush. For a moment he genuinely thought his crush thought so low of him, but he's glad to hear that's not true.

You two wish each other Merry Christmas and Kaminari's feelings for sure have definitely grown stronger for you.

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima x reader #izuku midoria x reader #kaminari x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha fanfiction #mha todoroki #bakugou fluff #kirishima fluff #kirishima eijirou #mha fluff #bnha todoroki x you #mha kaminari

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zanarkandskylines · 7 days

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₊✩‧₊ ⇢ birthday boy katsuki!

『 ♡ 』 bakugo x fem!reader (18+ under the cut!) cw; alcohol consumption/tipsy katsuki note; i know canonically it's his 18th, it's his 22nd here. i know it's a tad long for bullet point style, but what can i say? i love this man. -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

✩ you quietly sneak out of bed at 6:30am the morning of katsuki's birthday, trying not to wake him before you get the chance to make him breakfast. he's sound asleep, a soft smile on his lips as his bare chest rises and falls peacefully. you throw on his dynamight hoodie and tip toe to the kitchen.

✩ katsuki had gone to bed earlier than usual last night due to back-to-back patrol shifts, letting you set up a little surprise for him in the living room without him knowing. normally he'd drag you to bed with him, even at 8PM, but he was too exhausted to fight you on it. you'd decorated the living room with a few orange and gold balloons, a small vase of tiger lilies, and a present wrapped in orange paper with a black bow.

✩ he's not much of a sweet breakfast person, so you opt to cook his favorite eggs - soft scrambled with signature hot sauce over rice with some toast and black coffee. you're finishing cutting the scallions for the eggs when you hear katsuki's footsteps approaching from the hallway.

✩ katsuki sleepily stalks up behind you, rubbing his eyes as he wraps his arms around your waist and perches his chin on your shoulder. you turn to kiss his cheek and turn off the heat on the stove. "mornin' baby. wha'cha makin'?" his voice cracks, still in the process of waking up.

✩ "happy birthday, katsuki! made ya breakfast, go sit down." he obliges, squeezing your ass under the hoodie before retreating to the table. you drop the plate and coffee in front of him and sit in the seat next to him. "your favorites - eggs over rice with hot sauce, toast and coffee." he huffs with satisfaction before devouring every single bite off his plate.

✩ once breakfast is finished, you lead katsuki into the living room to open his gift. it's a brand new watch to replace the one he broke months ago - one he's had his eye on since it's release date. all black with gold accents, and on the back, it's engraved with "my number one hero."

✩ katsuki's not much of a party person, so you planned an extravagant dinner with friends instead. later that night, you take him to one of the fanciest places in the city. he's greeted with a table full of friends as a surprise - midoriya, kirishima, todoroki, uraraka, jiro, momo, kaminari, sero, and mina all yell a mish-mash of "happy birthday bakugo/bakubabe/bakubro/kacchan/katsuki!" everyone laughs as katsuki rubs the back of his neck, overwhelmed by the affection.

✩ two hours and plenty of laughs, food and wine later, you and katsuki return home with a handful of gift bags. you can tell he's relieved to be home, but the rose blush creeping up his neck from under his collar gives you a different hint at how he's feeling.

✩ katsuki's unrolling his sleeves and unbuttoning his dress shirt when you approach him, hand on his partially exposed chest. "come lay with me on the couch, i'll give you a massage," is all you need to say for him to follow you silently to the living room. you lay back on the couch, turning on the tv for mindless white noise while he lays face down against your stomach, arms draped around you.

✩ he can't help but groan in ecstasy when your nails scratch against his scalp, fluffing his blonde locks before your hands trail down his neck and to his shoulders. katsuki becomes putty in your hands, melting away any pent up stress in his muscles as you work your fingers through every knot.

✩ "feel good, baby?" you ask. a muffled 'mm' into your abdomen is katsuki's only response after a hefty sigh, his warm breath heating your skin through the fabric of your dress. his fingers lazily trace your sides and down to your thighs while you continue playing with his hair.

✩ you can tell by his mannerisms and the temperature of his skin that he's definitely tipsy, relishing in the toasty glow from the red wine at dinner. the restaurant gave you the remainder of the bottle to take home - enough for half a glass each. caressing his cheek and stroking the underside of his jaw like a cat, he rolls his head to the side to look up at you. "want me to run you a bath, kats? we can finish the wine together, light some candles, maybe some music to wind down for bed." he sits up and shifts to plant a messy kiss to your lips before whispering, "yeah."

✩ grabbing the bottle of wine, you head to the bathroom to set the scene. while the water was running, you'd grabbed a few candles from the closet and your bluetooth speaker, carefully placing them on the counter and leaving the bottle next to the tub. katsuki slinks to the doorway while you're lighting the last candle, ambient music faintly playing throughout the room. he saunters up to you, fingers immediately finding the zipper on your dress and tugging it down. you let the dress slip from your figure and fall to the floor, turning to unbuttoning his shirt and slacks in return.

✩ the two of you settle into the bath together, the sweltering water flushing your skin. katsuki reaches for the wine bottle, bringing it to his lips and letting a stream of liquid run down his chin, dripping down his neck and chest and into the water. without hesitation, you shimmy into his lap, running your tongue through the streams of wine, starting with his chest and ending under his jaw. he bites back the moan bubbling in his throat, the sensation of your tongue making him shiver in anticipation. "that's one way to share it," you purr, shifting to nibble on his earlobe.

✩ he grabs your hips under the water, pulling you flush against him as he dips his head into the crook of your neck, open mouthed kisses lingering over your collarbone and across your cleavage. his voice is low, a little slurred from his intoxicated state, hands roaming from your hips to your back. "you're so fuckin' beautiful, baby."

✩ you cradle his face in your hands, rubies gleaming up at you, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs before pressing your lips onto his, hands slinking around his neck and the water splashing between you as your chests touch. your tongues dance around each other's, the taste of red wine swirling on your taste buds. your hands wander up the back of his neck, playfully scratching at his hairline.

✩ you can feel katsuki stiffening beneath you, his cock tucked snuggly under your slit. you're hands are exploring his chest, submerging them under the water to trace your fingertips down his abs. he stops you, pulling back from your kiss with a pop and a huff. "y'don't...have to. i jus' wanna kiss and hold ya like this."

✩ your chest swells at the hearts in his eyes and how soft his features are under the rosy tint in his cheeks. you smile, pecking him on the nose. "whatever you want, babes. it's your day." you sink against him, laying your head against his chest. you can feel his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh, cradling you as close as possible, stroking your back absentmindedly.

✩ he lays his head gently lying atop yours, soft snores accompanying the serene music in the room within minutes time. it never fails to make your heart grow three sizes anytime he falls asleep on you - the fact that you make him feel safe enough to doze off with his guard down. faintly, you squeeze his shoulder to wake him up. "let's get you to bed, kats."

✩ out of the bath, cleaned up and ready to pass out, you both flop under the cool covers. katsuki grips your hips and drags your body into his, wrapping his arms around your waist and entangling his legs with your own. his breath tickles your neck as he places multiple kisses to the back of it before settling his head on your shared pillow.

✩ you turn in his hold to face him. "happy birthday, love. i hope it was everything you wished for." katsuki scoffs, leaning forward to leave a long kiss to your plush lips. "'course it was. coulda sat inside all day with ya and it'd be enough."

✩ right after you turn back onto your side, katsuki leans close to the shell of your ear. "thank you, g'night sweets. you can fuck me in the morning." he snickers while laying back on the pillow, moving one of his hands to cup your breast playfully. you know full well it's staying there all night and drift off to sleep with a huff.

✩ the next morning, you stir awake before katsuki does. the sun from the bedroom window illuminates his flawless skin - he looks angelic, blissfully asleep. remembering his words from the night before, you begin to caress his thigh and up to his hip, slinking your hand under the waistband of his boxers. when your fingers gently glide over his shaft, his brows furrow and a grunt rumbles in his chest. his eyes flutter open when your fingers fully wrap around him, your touch featherlight against his sensitive skin. "good mornin' to you, too," he jokes, a hand coming to your jaw to pull you into a kiss with no hesitation.

✩ your grip tightens around his cock while your kiss grows passionate, a gravely moan spilling from katsuki between your lips. "fuck, baby..." he mumbles, breath already shallow from your touch. clothes are soon strewn across the floor and the sheets are a bundled mess while you both ravage one another.

✩ it's not long until your straddling katsuki's hips, sinking down on his dick until your soaked cunt sucks in every inch of him. his pecs and abs display the red scratch marks you've left, along with the pink bite marks on his collarbone. his face twists with pleasure, hands latched onto your hips as you bounce up and down in a steady rhythm. the way you moan coax out his own, his ferocious desire ramping up the volume of his whining the closer he came to release.

✩ katsuki lunges his upper body to meet yours, nipping at your lower lip to pull you down to the bed with him, not letting go of your hips as you increase your tempo. breathless i love yous are exchanged in the midst of your shared high, your hands finding purchase in his blonde locks. you tug on it roughly while he bites your lip again, one final grunt escaping him as you ride through his orgasm. your close to follow, but not before biting and sucking on his neck through his overstimulated cries while he claws at your back in euphoria.

✩ the afterglow is always your favorite part with katsuki, how his beautiful scarlet eyes twinkle with adoration and body fully relaxes. the way he wraps you up, holding you close as he peppers your hair, head, cheeks, nose, lips, neck and collarbone with kisses - it's electrifying. you lie there for a while before speaking up. "ready to go hiking now?" he laughs, wholeheartedly. "no fuckin' way. we're stayin' here until i say so."

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — happy birthday katsuki, you beautiful son of a bitch. my favorite explosive boy deserves to be spoiled & smothered with love. 💖🎀 🎆 tags; @slayfics @maddietries

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugo x reader smut #bakugou x reader smut #bakugo fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugo drabble #mha drabbles #mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo birthday #☆.rei writes

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sugarlywhispers · 5 months

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ex!b.katsuki x reader ; m.izuku x reader — bakugou cheats on his gf, with midoriya's girlfriend.

☆– warnings; ANGST. mention and description of panic attacks, swear words, cheating (bakugou to reader; uraraka to midoriya).

☆–a.n; so here it is! a continuation to THIS DRABBLE. i honestly didn't plan it, but @imaginationmess started brainstorming with me about this a few weeks ago and i couldn't get it out my head! thank you, sweets💕 i hope you like this, even tho i still owe you that villain!bakugou drabble~🙃 i'll work on it soon, i promise~

☆–a.n; also, i decided to split it in several parts. i don't know tho how many parts there will be. i have at least two more parts already written. we will see...😉 don't worry, each link to the parts will be organized in my masterlist♡

The noise around makes you a bit jumpy. It's been weeks since you've been out of your apartment since that day you finally broke down in front of your best friend Mineta Minoru, after Kats-Bakugou finally picked his stuff out of your home.

You're sitting in a little coffee shop close to where you live, waiting. The chattering, the laughs, the kids playing and screaming, the cars and buses that drive outside, everything feels heavy on your chest as it pulls up and down fastly thanks to your breathing. You know what this is, it's not the first time it happened.

Panic attacks.

You've been having them again since he left.

And you hate them. You hate him for being the reason they appeared again. The first time it happened Mineta had finally convinced you to go out and have some ramen with him late at night after his shift. You accepted, even though you felt your body weak and heavy, only wanting to stay in bed and keep sleeping. Least to say, it ended with Mineta carrying you in his arms, your body trembling non-stop and feeling like you were choking, dying.

But right now, Mineta is not here. And you can feel your throat being closed, like someone was grabbing you by your neck with each breath you take and slowly but firmly putting pressure, until you could breathe no more.

And just when it's about to happen, when you know you're about to make a scene in front of all these people, when the darkness is making its presence in your sight, that he enters the coffee shop.

You don't know why but seeing Midoriya Izuku after so many weeks since you told him the truth, seeing him stand there at the door, a black hoodie that says "HOODIE" in the front and jeans and his typical red trainers as he scans the whole place until his green eyes find yours and smiles openly at you, seeing him walk towards you and getting bigger with each step he takes in your direction –was he ever that big and tall?–, seeing him say "hi" politely to some people who recognized the Number One Pro Hero under the hoodie as he walks inside the place.

Just seeing him… it takes the pressure off your neck. You can breathe again.

"Hi, Y/N, sorry I'm a bit late," he greets with a shiny smile as he sits in front of you. "I had to finish some paperwork from the night patrol."

You open your eyes wide, "Y-you-" your voice sounds throaty and rough, so you clear your throat. He frowns, watching your neck, but he respectfully waits for you to continue, eyes back on yours, watching you with kindness. "You had night patrol? If I knew, I wouldn't have bothered‐…"

"Oh, no! You didn't bother me at all! You're never a bother, Y/N." His smile is radiant, it's been so long since you had seen someone smile that way in your direction. You feel bad for Mineta. When was the last time he had smiled in your presence? A real, genuine smile. You forgot. "I was hoping you got my message and that you would answer, on your time. But you did answer." You look down, you think his smiles will make you go blind because of its shine.

It was two weeks ago–or three?, you feel like you lost track of time, being on your bed and only getting up when Mineta forced his way into your apartment to make you eat or shower. It's been a while since Midoriya left that message to go grab coffee together. And he had been waiting, and you just now answered.

"I'm sorry… I needed…"

"Time, I know. Me too. It took me a while to process everything. I didn't want to get up off my bed, I barely ate… We both needed time."

You look up at him again and you see him swallow thick, like it's difficult for him to talk about it. And you get it. Fuck, thinking about it only makes you want to cry again. You get it. So you pull one of your hands that were grabbing the cloth of your pants tightly in order to help ground yourself a few moments ago when the panic attack was almost on the surface, and grab his that is laying on the table in front that separates you both.

He looks at it for a moment, your thumb caressing the scars on his hand like it's nothing, and when he looks back up, you try to smile reassuringly.

Everything is going to be okay. You are going to be okay, that's what Mineta tells you every day he goes to check on you. You started to believe he says that aloud to reassure himself more than you, seeing how you didn't have the force to even feed yourself some days and he had to do it. It took you a few days ago, when you tried to reach your phone, you had to get up from the bed and when you did, your legs gave up, making you fall straight to the floor, hitting your chin so hard you think you bit your own tongue as you tasted blood in your mouth. How was this you? Did he really have so much power over you that turned you into this corpse that couldn't even get up to reach the damn phone? Fuck no. You decided it was enough. You decided you were going to be okay.

You know your smile it's not the prettiest or most comforting at the moment, but you try. You try for Midoriya, before saying, "We are going to be okay."

His eyes fill with tears, so visible it makes you want to hold him, protect him–and he's freaking Hero Deku, the most powerful hero on Earth and the Symbol of Hope for humankind. Yet, you can't avoid feeling. Feeling that he doesn't deserve anything that happened. Feeling that he deserves so much happiness and kindness, and he hasn't had that in a long while apparently. It's frustrating watching him break, even this little as he doesn't let the tears escape his eyes and smiles back at you.

Two hours pass and Midoriya and you are still in that coffee shop, chatting animatedly, laughing even. Remembering old times, talking about the present and the future, and about the friends that connected you both.

It feels like… a rush of fresh, cold wind after a hot and humid summer day. You have been so used to the hot, the fire, you forgot that cool, fresh relief existed.

Your phone starts ringing in your little bag and you search it as Midoriya laughs at something you said about Mineta.

"And it doesn't end there…"

"Oh my God, it doesn't? What else could Mineta have done to Bakugou? I understand now why Shoto had to be called in to assist him. Mineta was faking stuff so he wouldn't help him… Genius." You see the tears at the corner of his eyes, but this time they are from laughing. And you find yourself thinking you like that better than the previous tears.

You shake your head, smiling, "He started leaving his purple sticky balls under Bakugou's car wheels." That's it. Midoriya laughs so hard it makes everyone look in your direction. But you don't mind, for the first time in a long while, you don't mind people's attention on you. Midoriya's there. And he's laughing. He is laughing.

Life seems a bit brighter.

You pick up the call without really looking who it is. "Hello?" You talk in between laughs.

"Y/N? Oh, where… Where are you? I came to the apartment and freaked out when I couldn't find you!" Mineta says, a bit agitated. But you can't avoid laughing again given that the person you were just talking about with Midoriya called you, it is such a funny timing. You signal with a finger to your phone looking at Midoriya and word 'Mineta', which makes him laugh even harder. Midoriya understood the funny timing too. "Are those laughs? Are you laughing?!"

"Sorry… Yes. I'm with Midoriya. We came to grab a coffee."

You can hear Mineta's surprise, you can even picture his eyebrows pulling up high. "Midoriya? As in… Midoriya Izuku?"

"Yes, love, Midoriya Izuku." That makes the green-headed man in front of you shut a bit and look down at his hands. Weird.

"Ow, you haven't called me love in a while… I'm gonna cry," you roll your eyes at your best friend's dramatics.

"Shut up. Do you need something? I'll be back in a bit."

"Oh, no, bun. I just came to bring you lunch and then I have to sign in. I'll probably be on shift until late at night so I made sure I cooked enough so you have leftovers for dinner too."

You smile. Your heart feels warm, and you can't help but think you have one hell of a best friend.

"I love you."

"Oh, I'm definitely crying now."

You chuckle, "Take care today, okay?"

"Always am, bun. Have fun with Midoriya, but I can already tell you are..." You can hear the suggestive tone, and you want to punch him.

"Shut up."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye."

You end the call and look at Midoriya. He's not smiling anymore, just looking at his hands. His fingers fidgeting with each other, his mind clearly in thought.

"Sorry, I didn't tell Mineta where I was going today. He was worried…"

"Oh, yeah, no problem."

It sounds like there is, so you try to dissipate the tension you don't know what produced it.

"You want to know what else Mineta did?"

Midoriya looks up, eyes open wide, smile returning to his face, "There's more?!"

You nod, also smiling. "He once even left them inside the car, messing up with the engine."

"Oh my God! That's why Bakugou asked for another hero to assist him from now on!" Midoriya laughs again. You shake your head and he stops mid-laugh. "That's… It's not? Then what-...?"

"Do you really want to know?" You raise an eyebrow, sounding cheeky and challenging.

His stance changes, you see a spark in his eyes you have never seen before. He smirks and rests his elbows over the table and gets closer to you, his eyes connected to yours, as he murmurs almost in a low tone whisper, "Tell me."

You can feel your cheeks warmer under his gaze, but find the courage to copy his action and get closer to him, even closer to his ear to whisper in a secret.

"Mineta left cockroaches on the copilot seat, for when Uraraka entered the car."

You back away a bit to look at his face. He looks completely surprised, before throwing his head back and laughing so so hard, completely forgetting they are in a public space.

You laugh too, but because he is laughing so lively. You decide then that you'll try that more. Make him laugh.

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bbyseok · 1 year

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🎥 movie night 01

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

cw: ua students setting, gender neutral reader, established relationship, swearing n cuddling !!

a/n: um so,, i really genuinely wasn’t expecting my latest bakugou fic (hold this for me) to get that much attention but tysm really 🥺🥺 i appreciate all of you !!! but enjoy this short lil thing.. maybe this can be a series ??

———

kaminari has a brilliant idea. and like the genius he is, he commits to it. he manages to wrap everyone of class 1-a into a movie night in the commons room.

obviously during the weekend—aizawa would have all of your heads if it were a school night—and everyone agrees to it, even the introverts of the class. even your boyfriend, bakugou katsuki.

though, you’re sure it has to do with something with you, since you’re going too ‘n all.

“c’mon, dumbass, we’re gonna be late! what’re you so slow for?” katsuki’s voice calls from down the hallway. he had texted you that he’d wait for you in your dorm hall. for someone who supposedly hates interacting with the others, he sure seems eager.

you peek around your door and sigh dreamily to yourself—he’s dressed casually in those black sweats with his hands in his pockets and that stupid overused black aji fry shirt, but he looks good. unbelievable really, how he has to do so little to look good.

“hey! are you even listenin’ t’me?” bakugou then snaps, shifting on his feet impatiently. “quit yer starin’ already!”

you step out of your room entirely with a fond roll of your eyes before closing your door, laughing a bit. “i’m coming, kats, don’t worry.”

when you reach him, he grumbles, “took you long enough. damn idiot. how the hell do you make it to class on time?”

you smile sweetly at him. “you’re my alarm, silly.”

at the start of your day, he texts you. no, not one of those sweet good morning texts. rather, texts that consist of get up dumbass and see you at class idiot that are endearing all the same because it’s bakugou katsuki.

(you won’t comment on it so he doesn’t feel too embarrassed but it’s cute that the first thing he does when he wakes up is text you. what’s even more endearing is that he did it before you two were even dating.)

he scoffs but doesn’t hesitate to take one of your hands in his to lead you to the elevator. “whatever,” he brushes it off, “what would you do without me then, ah?”

you squeeze his hand as you guys both enter the elevator, using your free one to press the right button for the ground floor. “miss class, i guess,” you snicker.

he flicks your forehead fondly with his other hand before tugging you closer. you playfully glare at him before pursing your lips in sudden thought. “wonder what movie we’re watching. bet the others already picked.”

a groan leaves bakugou. “if it’s one of those lame ass comedy movies or some kind of cheesy romance one, we’re going back upstairs!” he declares.

you laugh and simply pat his arm as the elevator doors open and you step outside together. “promise we can at least watch half of it?”

“tch.” he juts his chin up. “fine,” he then huffs out, pairing it with a halfhearted shrug of his shoulders.

by the time the two of you make it to the common area, the dekusquad, bakugou’s friends, and some of the others have already settled in.

“oh, blasty!” kirishima calls your boyfriend over with his usual grin, and then he waves to you too. “glad you two could make it!”

“yeah, yeah,” katsuki huffs in dismissal. you both approach your classmates, some of them greeting you.

now, the two couches of the common area aren’t all that small. but your shark-toothed friend is propped up on one of them with denki next to him as he toys with the remote and snickers alongside sero.

mina is on the other one, where she huddles with uraraka. tsu and most of the girls are with them obviously. some of the others had grabbed some blankets to make home to the floor.

but there’s one remaining free spot next to kiri, just on the edge where the two couches meet and-

katsuki snarls and lunges for it the same time you do but you’re just a little quicker than him. but then his fingers are grasping your arm and he’s suddenly yanking you back.

you falter and nearly fall over on your ass. “katsuki!” you whine, regaining your footing as he scores the seat next to kirishima. he then grins at you, all smug. “hah! i told ya you were slow, dumbass!” he taunts.

you saunter to stand in front of him. “you cheated! that’s my spot!” kirishima can’t help but laugh but he lightly nudges bakugou’s shoulder, saying, “yeah, that wasn’t very manly, bro.” you nod in agreement with a pout.

katsuki gets comfy in his seat, rolling his eyes. “tch, stop your pouting. c’mere, this is your spot.” before you can say anything, he leans forward and tugs you down right into his lap.

you let out a noise of surprise, heat rushing to your cheeks as your hands land on his chest and you’re practically straddling him. a whispered “so manly” escapes from kirishima expectantly and the girls on the other couch squeal. (a quick glare from bakugou sent over your shoulder shuts them up quickly.)

you blink. “o-oh. oh.”

he scoffs and his arms wrap around you so you can get adjusted on his thighs. “yeah,” he grumbles, “now move a bit- can’t see the fucking screen.”

you shift on your.. seat so you can both actually watch the movie as someone flicks the lights off. katsuki isn’t keen on pda so this certainly is.. surprising. (but you don’t mind at all.)

as the movie starts to play out, you feel him rub and squeeze your arm gently on the spot where he had yanked you. you hum softly, pressing a quick kiss to his jawline.

a little satisfied huff leaves him and he only nestles you closer, arms wrapped securely around your middle. and eventually, some time during the movie, you fall asleep in katsuki’s lap, cheek smooshed against his chest and fingers curled into his shirt. you look like the image of comfort in his arms.

katsuki figures that if this happens every movie night, then yeah, he wouldn’t really mind going to them in the future.

(he ends up watching more than half of the movie in the end, but anything to keep you in his arms for a while longer.)

#bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #bakugou fluff #boyfriend bakugou #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha fluff #mha fluff #rain’s writing #my writing

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sakuraaachan · 11 months

Text

Virtual Experience - Izuku M.

Have you ever loved someone so much you created a fantasy virtual world to have sex with them? No?…..Okay.

Izuku Midoryia x Reader

Rating: mature, smut

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This is the full version of this story!

“Going stupid on that cock huh?”

You couldn’t speak, your body stuffed with Izuku’s cock. He relentlessly pounded into you while you held onto his shoulder for dear life.

He groans into your ear. ”Answer me baby.”

“Yes-yes- mhh!” You struggled to moan out, some drool coming out your mouth. Your nails start to poke into Izuku’s back. You're unable to see and only hold onto Izuku in hopes you won't get lost in the abyss of pleasure you were in.

You can hear Izuku chuckle, “relax baby you're gonna make me cum too fast.”

You close your eyes, doing your best to breathe while relaxing your muscles.

“THE TIME IS CURRENTLY 6:00PM, NOW SHUTTING DOWN”

The word goes black as you're brought back to reality. You remove the headset from your face, wiping some sweat from your forehead.

“How was that?” The intercom turns on, Mei Hatsumes voice speaking into it.

You look over at her through the glass doors, a smile on your face. “It felt so real Mei, your work is amazing.”

“Our work,” she corrects, pressing a button to release cold air into the chamber. “And of course it is a VR sexual experience you can actually feel, now that’s the future.”

The door makes a loud click as it unlocks. You grab a towel before exiting and heading up the stairs towards your shared office.

“So you're gonna tell me why you chose Deku as your male participant?”

You pause as you enter, looking at Mei with a shocked face. “You looked at the code didn’t you?”

“Duh! Now tell me everything.”

You sigh in defeat as you slumped into your chair, “so maybe being able to feel him up everytime he rips his suit was kinda getting to my head.”

“So that’s why you wanted to make this,” Mei allows a smirk to come over her face. “Pervert!” She shouts playfully, pointing a finger at you.

Pouting as you let out a small whine, you cross your arms. “Haven’t you ever wanted something so bad, but it was just out of reach?”

“You two are pretty close, so why would he reject you?”

“Have you seen the curves on Uraraka-san? You should have seen them in UA, it was disgusting how obvious it was that she was crushing on him,” you stare at the framed photo of you and Izuku at graduation.

“Doesn’t mean he liked her,” Mei mutters, shrugging her shoulders before abruptly turning your chair to face her. “Use the VR again.”

You raise a brow, “huh? I just got off and it’s 6:30.”

“Just go!” She persists, pulling you out the seat and pushing you out the officer door. “I wanna try something so get going!” She gives you one last push before slamming the door, you huff before going back down the stairs.

“Mei, can’t this wait for tomorrow?”

“Is someone talking?” She blankly ignores you, opening the glass chamber to the VR testing room.

“Mei!” You groan, reluctantly going into the room. “Whatever your testing, it better be worth it.”

She locks the door as you place the body pins on your chest, you take a deep breath before putting on the headset. The system loads you up before eventually you're placed in a different reality.

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

The system specs in your eyes, loading as you get used to your surroundings. “Oh! Yes, I’m fine,” you blink a few times as your vision clears.

You're in a fancy restaurant, one that was illuminated by an orange light setting. Across from you is Izuku Midoriya, dressed in a fancy black suit. He smiles at you, a little bit of concern in his eyes. “Are you sure? Maybe you had too much wine?”

You giggle at his caring nature, “It’s nothing Deku, I just spaced out a bit”

He places a hand over yours. “Please...just call me Izuku.” Your face heats up at the contact, and a smile melts onto your face.

The waiter comes up to the table, a few more behind him. “Here is your check Mr and Mrs, and a complimentary champagne on us,” the waitress places a tray down, smiling at the two of you.

They walk away and you reach for the check, but Izuku grabs it from you shaking his head slightly. “What type of man would I be if I let you pay?”

“Oh, it’s okay Izuku, you do so much for me already….let me pay you back at least.”

He places his card in the checkbook, placing it down by the edge of the table. “You can pay me back later, tonight.” His voice is deep, hotter than it was before.

“O-oh” You flush.

“Y/n? Hatsume-san?”

Mei slams her laptop shut as an uninvited guest enters the office. “Deku! What a surprise, come here for some more testing?”

Izuku shakes his head with a small chuckle, “I’m here to see Y/n, she wasn’t answering her phone.”

Opportunity rushes into Mei's head and her grin widens. “Y/n is just testing our latest invention,” she points out the large window and Izuku walks over to look out.

He arches a brow, “is there something wrong with her?”

You were a sight to see, sitting down on a couch with your legs spreaded. Neck craned back with your mouth opening from time to time.

“We're still working on the name but introducing Fantasy VR, this baby allows you to have sex with anyone of your choosing.”

“Like..transportation?” Izuku asks.

“Illusions, nobody’s actually in there. Just Y/n’s subconscious, and the code of whoever she is doing it with. ” Mei explains, watching your trembling body. “I wonder who it is.”

“Me too,” He whispers.

Your heart rate spikes up, sounding an alarm on Mei’s closed computer. The girl grabs a nearby tablet before turning off your simulation. Izuku watches as you pull the headset off, brushing the sweaty hairs out of your face.

“This is literally the best thing ever Mei, we gotta make it portable.” You let out a laugh of amusement, “having sex with I-”

“You have a visitor!” She interrupts you, pressing the AC button. Confused you look at the window, the man that had just “fucked” you standing next to your best friend.

Shit.

The door clicks as it unlocks and you pull it open before exiting. It was like the walk of shame as you went up the stairs, with every step more embarrassment built within you. “Heyyy Deku…” You enter the office, grabbing the towel you left at your desk. “What brings you here?”

You try your best to act nonchalant, despite the blush that creeps up your cheeks. Izuku raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "I tried calling you, but you didn't pick up. I was just worried. Are you okay?"

“Fuck, it’s friday isn’t it.” You facepalm, groaning into your hand. “Shit, I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, it seems like you’ve been busy.” He jokes, chuckling slightly at your flustered state.

You give him a sheepish smile, using the towel to wipe off the remaining sweat from your face. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was... testing out a new VR invention Mei and I have been working on.”

“Hey lovebirds calm it down a bit, I need to use Deku,” Mei interrupts the two of you, patting her plastic model of the VR headset. “I haven’t tried this baby on a male yet, since he’s here at perfect timing.”

You shake your head at her with a disapproving look, “no, it’s still just a prototype we don’t know what the after effects could be-.

“Sure.”

You turn to Izuku shocked, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Deku, you don’t have to do this, it’s just a prototype, the effects-.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I owe it to you guys for always fixing my suit.” He glances out the window, “besides, I’ll be locked in a quirk-proof chamber, it’ll be fine.”

“Testroom 5” Mei tells Izuku as he exits.

“Are you insane?!” You whisper yell once the door shuts.

“This is your chance to see who Deku wet dreams about” She says suggestively, typing quickly on her laptop.

“I don’t want to invade his personal privacy,”

“You already invaded it when you made a device to have virtual sex with him.” She continues to type, “I saw an opportunity and I took it, you’ll stay single forever if you don’t take chances.”

“What if it fails, and he likes someone else…” Your voice drops, looking down to the floor.

“Then that’s it, at least you’d know”

“Hey, you guys ready?” Deku's voice interrupts the two of you, Mei clicks the mic button before speaking.

“Sending Y/n in to help you with the body pins”

“What is this fucked up romance going on in your head?” You question, crossing your arms at her. “Expect me to just confess my overlonging feelings for him as I help him with body pins?” You walk over to the office door, before mocking yourself “oh Deku, I’ve loved you since high school and I created a whole sexual fantasy land because of how badly I wanted to have sex with you, yeah that sounds fucking romantic.”

Mei spins to face you, “it’ll be something like that.”

You scoff at her before exiting and marching down the steps. “Alright hot stuff you know the drill, shirt off.” Deku complies immediately, tugging his shirt off overhead and giving you a view of his abs. He throws the cloth onto the couch in the room and you walk over and smooth a hand over his chest before placing the clips.

“So how does this work?” He breaks the silence.

You stick on the last pin “you can have sex with anyone of your choosing, just think of them while the VR loads your subconscious into the programmed reality.”

“Hey, I’m going to get some takeout,” Mei’s loud voice booms in the chamber, scaring the both of you.

“Okay!” You shout back, grabbing the headset and handing it to Izuku. “You’ll be in there for 30 to 60 minutes, and nothing will happen to you here…besides the moaning and whatnot but, that’s why we have soundproof chambers.”

He places the VR above his eyes, and you help fit the strap to his head size. It was hard trying to keep his green curls out the velcro strap, you have to note to make an easier way to put the headset on. “Also, try not to get into stressful situations, the headset will kick you out if your heart rate goes up too high, don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

He nods. “You said it could be anyone right?”

“Mhm!” You finished tightening it, stepping back a bit with a victorious grin. “You could have sex with Dynamight if you wanted-...” Izuku doesn’t look amused at your joke. “Yeah…that sounded better in my head- okay! So enjoy and I’ll be up there keeping an eye on your vitals.”

He lets out a hum before sliding the headset down, a second passes before you leave. You tug at the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Did Mei lock you in before she left?

“Fuck-fuck, Mei! I’ll kill you for this!” You shout, still roughly trying to open the door which still wouldn’t budge. “Aww fuck me” You curse, walking over to the couch in defeat. Now you’ll have to listen to Izuku fuck who ever he wants. “I’m going to murder you Mei Hatsume!”

As you sit on the couch, frustration and embarrassment wash over you. You can't believe Mei locked you in the room, leaving you to listen to whatever is happening inside the virtual reality chamber. You look at Izuku, who stands in front of you still unaware of your presence in the room. You should wake him up, savor the little bit of his privacy you haven’t invaded.

But…you’ve never tested interrupting the fantasy while the VR was still active. It could have very dangerous effects. Shit.

A bead of sweat drops down Izuku’s chest, and his fist clenches. You watch through your lashes, staring at the bead as it slowly moves through the maze of Izuku’s chest. How lucky.

Eyes landed on a boner sitting in Izuku’s pants, gosh and he was packing. Your eyes widen and you place a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gasping.

“Puppy-” He groans out, his fist clenching again.

You feel a spark in your pussy, as you clench around nothing. He groans again, making you moan at the feeling it brought to you. “Shit-” you curse, crossing your legs before chewing on your bottom lip.

His hips seemed to thrust every now and then and more sweat rolled down his chest. It was a heavenly sight to see and you had a front row seat, but the throbbing in your cunt was becoming unbearable.

You uncross your legs and hand drifts in between your legs, pressing at your clothed clit to try and relieve some of the pressure. You moan, clasping a hand over your mouth before looking over Izuku to see if he had heard you.

He remained the same.

You hand teases the waistband of your sweat pants, and your eyes darted at the glass wall from time to time, making sure Mei wasn’t back at the office yet.

“Y-your such a good girl- taking my cock like this- ah..fuck.”

You unconsciously whine, allowing your fingers to do as they please as you listen to Izuku’s grunts and cries. It felt heavenly, the risk of getting caught adding more pleasure to it all.

“THE TIME IS CURRENTLY 8:30PM NOW SHUTTING DOWN”

Damn, you glared at the speaker. Taking your hand out your pants, still unsatisfied. Izuku should have taken off his headset by now, but he remained still.

“Deku?” You squeak, afraid of the questions he might ask.

The male remains unresponsive.

You arch a brow, swallowing your pride and getting up to take his headset off. “Hey, Deku…are you okay?”

You pull the VR above his eyes, and his dark green orbs immediately meet with yours. “Deku?” You ask again, but there still isn’t a response.

You're cut off when Izuku slams you against the glass wall of the chamber, the sound of the VR headset crashing to the ground making you cringe. “Midoriya-?”

“I’ve always wondered why you never call me by my first name.”

His mouth traces over your ear as he whispers into it, a shiver goes down your spine leaving you at a loss for words. “I don’t think you understand what you do to me Y/n.”

He moves so his face is in front of yours. His eyes were filled with lust, so different from the way he’d always look at you. “Say it.”

“W-what?” You quiver, feeling tiny in between Izuku’s arms and the wall. “Say what?”

“My name!” You squeeze your eyes shut as he shouts. He mutters an apology, taking a second to breath. “Please. Say my name.”

“Deku?”

“No.” He says in a faint whisper, “my first name.”

“I-izuku,” you hesitate, unable to figure out what could be the cause of Izuku’s sudden actions. It had to be a side effect from the headset, but what could you do? It didn’t seem like Izuku wanted to hurt you, so what..-Your lips never felt anything so warm and soft, your eyes widened as Izuku’s sudden kiss made your knees feel weak.

He caught you before you could fall, slotting himself in between your legs. Hypnotized by the drunk feeling his scent gave you, slowly you parted your lips and allowed Izuku’s tongue to slip inside.

He pulls away, moving his face into the nape of your neck. You gasp for air as finally you're able to think, but your thoughts are stolen from you as Izuku presses his boner into your clothed pussy.

“Ah-! Izuku-” You squeak in surprise, holding onto his shoulders.

“Who did you fuck?” He continues to rub himself against you, staring you directly in the eyes. “Come on puppy, tell me who you fucked with that damned machine.”

You can’t think, looking up at the ceiling as all the built up pressure from before was finally being let out. It felt wonderful, fantastic, so good you wanted to pull away from it.

“Who.” He stops humping you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look down at him, “did you fuck?”

You hesitate, feeling embarrassed but Izuku wasn’t going to take silence for an answer. He presses himself up against you roughly, making you speak out. “You!” You shout, “I made the whole thing for you!”

He groaned in response, “gonna make you feel so good.”

Your back hits the soft couch in the room, Izuku’s body never straying too far from yours. He tugs at the ends of your sweatpants, and you lift your butt up to help him pull it off.

The garment is tossed to the side and his hands run up and down your thighs. He brings his face in between your legs, nudging his nose into your panties and taking a huge sniff. You let out a small gasp before he’s sliding your panties off.

He doesn’t wait before he starts to devour you. His tongue licked up the slit of your pussy as he pushed your thighs up against his shoulders.

“Oh shit-!” You squeak, propping yourself up onto your elbows to watch his green curls bounce as his head moves in between your legs. He sticks a finger inside of you before starting to suck on your clit making you drop your head back with a loud moan.

You drop onto your back, filled with helpless pleasure as your hands begin to reach for something to hold onto. Your hands find themselves in Izuku’s hair and you swear you can feel him smile into your pussy.

A feeling begins to coil in your stomach, you were close and Izuku wasn’t planning on stopping yet. You started to push his head down, moaning out desperately from him to make you cum.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the feeling inside you finally comes undone, Izuku laps up your juices before tapping on your leg to let him go. Once he’s released, he crawls back over you with a sweet smile on his face, one that looks so innocent in contrast to his recent actions. You're both catching your breaths, chests heaving up and down in sync.

He kisses you, the taste of yourself still on his lips, but you're too spaced out to care, caught up in your own pleasure and excitement. Your hands begin to travel down his chest, starting to tug downwards at his pants.

He chuckles. “Can’t wait, can you?”

“Shut up and lose the pants.”

He pulls away slightly, pulling down his pants and taking his boxers with him. Your jaw slacks when you see his dick, it was bigger than how it looked on the VR. He takes pride in your reaction, a smirk reaching his lips as he crawls back on top of you.

“I never want to see you use that machine, ever again,” his mouth hovers over your ear, “when you want sex, you come to me, not some fucking piece of plastic.”

His hips move slightly before you feel the tip of his dick poking your entrance. His right hand comes up to lace fingers with yours, the two of you just staring at one another intently. Slowly his hips move forward and he starts to enter you. Your grip on his hand tightens and you hold onto his arm, pain seeping within your body as he ventures deeper inside.

He bottoms out inside you, staying completely still as you adjust to the size within you. His face is in the crook of your neck, distracting you with kissing and sweet nothings.

You gasp out the breath you hadn’t known you had been holding, a small string of curses coming out of your mouth.

“God fuck,” he whispers. “Waited too damn long.”

The feeling of pain subsided into an uncomfortable sensation, and your legs wrapped around Izuku, forcing him to move further into you. You both moan from pleasure, and Izuku takes it as his sign to start moving, going slow in case you're still adjusting.

You cry out for him, holding onto his arms as you pleaded for him to move faster, “please Izuku, god please.” He had you hypnotized, drunk off his kisses and intoxicated by his smell.

“Ah-mhmm, haaa-” You're unable to speak, your mouth hanging open as Izuku rocked in and out of you. He captures your mouth again, the kiss is messy which only adds more to your fantasy.

“Mm fuck” he curses as he pulls away from the kiss. You start to whine out broken praises, feeling the warmth of your upcoming orgasm starting to build up. You can’t think, not a single thought is able to process in your mind, tears begin to flow out your eyes and you cover your mouth with your hand.

Your voice threatens to scream out and the lack of oxygen makes you feel slightly light headed, the room spinning around you. He groans at your now muffled whimpers, his finger going down to your clit and starting playing with it.

It felt like time slowed down as your building up orgasm tumbled down, you stared Izuku in the eyes as your entire body just stopped functioning. He doesn’t stop though, but you can feel the long thick streams of cum spurt from his cock inside you, both of you sweaty messes.

A couple more thrusts for good measure before he collapsed on top of you. The world doesn’t come back to you yet, you basically been fucked dumb. You start to catch your breath, struggling with the heavy weight on top of your body.

“Izuku?” You whisper. No reply.

You move your head to look at him, the man was knocked out. A small groan escapes you as you start to wiggle, accidentally pushing Izuku off the couch and onto the floor when you attempt to lift him.

“Shit,” you curse.

Looking around the room, you had almost forgotten where you were, what you were doing, and you totally just took advantage of your best friend as he was not in his right mind. He was under the influence of the side effects of the VR and you completely took advantage of that!

Your hands begin to run through your hair as a million thoughts processed through your head at once. Holy shit, you actually just had sex with Izuku Midoryia, who is not only the number one hero, your best client, and your literal best friend.

Would he be disgusted? Mortified, maybe he would feel bad for you. “Fuck!” You curse again, hopping off the couch and searching for your clothes. Oh shit, Mei! Who knows how long you had been in here with him, what if she had seen you?!

You quickly put your clothes back on, before grabbing Izuku’s boxers and attempting to put them back on him. It was the least you could do, after you exploited him. You fold his pants up and place them neatly on the couch before walking over to the door and pulling at it again. It still wouldn’t budge!

Wait a minute…this was test chamber number 5 right?

Instead of pulling at the door, you give it a small push and it opens easily. “No…fucking-” you mutter under your breath.

You quickly exit the room, giving Izuku’s unconscious body one last look before you swiftly make your way to the exit. He’d be fine, those test chambers were one of the safest places in Musutafu.

“I’m sorry Izuku.”

It had been a week, a whole week of you arriving to work stupidly early and leaving just before Izuku’s patrol schedule would give him enough time to stop by. A whole week of ignoring all the messages you’d been receiving on your phone, most of them from Izuku.

It was a Wednesday morning, Mei would be coming in quite late since she had to run some errands across town. You were currently on a small break, taking small bites of your oatmeal as you watched your favorite show on your laptop.

But you couldn’t focus. A million thoughts and each of them were about Izuku, the way he made your body feel, the sounds that came out of him, how his tongue felt in between your legs.

There was no way you could ever look at Izuku the same again. How could you ever apologize for what you did, and to make matters worse, you just left him half-naked in that chamber.

What could he possibly have to say to you?

“Hey.”

You clicked the spacebar on your laptop, pausing the show and turning over to the door of your office. Izuku stood there dressed in his regular clothes with a bag strapped over his shoulder.

Your eyes widen but you're quick to mask your look of surprise with an awkward smile. “Hey.”

A moment of silence passes before you clear your throat. “It’s um, very early, what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t say anything, almost like he forgot himself. “Oh yeah…My suit, it’s um…ripped.”

You hate that Mei isn’t here so you can’t just throw this onto her. With a small sigh you get up from your chair, tossing your blanket aside and walking over to Izuku. “Come on, let’s get that fixed up.”

No matter what happens between you and Izuku, you still would never want him to go somewhere else to fix his suit. It’s like cheating on your hairdresser.

It was unbearably silent between you two. Your plan was to act like Friday never happened but it was easier said than done, just seeing Izuku made you want to clench your legs together.

“You haven’t been answering my messages, or calls.”

There it was, the elephant in the room. How were you supposed to act like nothing happened between you two, when you’ve been ignoring him for the whole week!

“My phone has been acting weird, I think it might be broken,” you mutter out a lame excuse as you take Izuku’s suit out the bag and lay it out on the table. Like hell he would believe that. Your best friend could make a whole new brand of phone that would be 100 times better than any phone you could buy now.

He only clicks his tongue and nods and you begin to look over the suit for the damage. “It’s over here,” you almost squeak as you feel a chest press up behind you, Izuku leaning over you to point at where the rips were.

“Thanks,” you mutter out breathlessly, his actions not helping to the throbbing in between your legs. The way his abs felt pressed against your back reminded you of how he held you up against that wall, humping himself in between your legs to pleasure himself and you.

You stop yourself before you lean back into Izuku, moving away from his arms and over to the waist of the suit. If you didn’t know any better, you could say the marks looked intentional. Just too clean to be from a battle, and too straight to not have been done on purpose.

Should you say something? Why would Izuku cut his suit on purpose? No, no, just fix the suit and get him out of here.

You walk over to the nearby computer, typing in a few codes before the table you had set the suit on begins to move, it descended into the floor before it was covered by a glass panel. Some robot hands appeared out from the side before beginning to work on the repairs.

You finish typing on the computer, “alright, should be about 5 minutes.”

“Can we talk?”

A strong smell of bleach enters your nose, the process of repairing is almost done, and is now on the cleaning cycle. The smell is so strong you can’t find yourself to reply to Izuku. “Is it just me, or does that bleach smell really strong?”

“No-”

The smell irritates your mind, it doesn’t help that your heart is racing too. “Geez, that smell is strong,” you breathe out, stumbling out of the cleaning room for some fresh air. Izuku follows behind and though you’ve left the heavily scented room your mind is beginning to spiral.

“Y/n, please, I just wanna talk-” he pleads, but you couldn’t listen if you wanted to run down by fatigue.

“Yesh, yeah, we can talk, just wait here” you put your hand up to stop him. “I’m gonna go get some water.”

He stands still as you make your way to the cafeteria in the building. The cleaning room was quite a ways away now but the annoying smell of lemon bleach clouded your nostrils. You don’t even make it to the cafeteria before you sprint into a nearby bathroom and start to puke your guts out. You attempted to keep your hair from falling into the toilet bowl, but it was quite difficult as you emptied your stomach into the toilet.

You weren’t used to throwing up, you never really drank to that point, and your stomach was normally quite strong when it came to bad food. You stop puking, and rest your face onto the side of the toilet as you catch your breath.

You rub your stomach, it was strange for you to just become sick all of a sudden. Weakly your hand comes up to flush the toilet, and you carefully lift yourself up off the floor. You trudge out the bathroom, leaning against the wall as you take a second to catch your breath.

A weird smell hits your nose, making you want to vomit all over again, and it was coming from outside the bathroom. You walk over to the door and open it, catching one of the building workers who was carrying a plate of food off guard. “Ma’am?” She asks.

“What is that? It smells terrible.”

She brings the plate in front of you, before taking off the cover to show a very beautifully plated breakfast. It looked absolutely delicious, but the sight and smell of it was going to make you throw up again.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you quickly run back into the bathroom as your mouth waters, starting to vomit into the toilet again. The worker follows, placing her tray of food onto the bathroom counter before walking over to help.

She grabs your hair and holds it up, a smooth hand running up and down your back. She lets out a small chuckle, “I was the same way when I first got pregnant.”

Pregnant?

“But--” You try to speak in between breaths, “I’m not pregnant?”

The worker only shushes you, continuing to rub your back. Her words still don’t leave your mind, and now that you think about it, you and Izuku definitely didn’t use a condom, and he was too out of his mind to pull out.

It’s way too early for you to be showing signs this heavily though right?

Right?

The vomiting stops and you sit there and take a moment to catch your breath. The worker stands up, “I’m going to get you some soup, my mother used to make it when I was pregnant, it doesn’t have any strong smells so you’ll be able to eat peacefully.”

She opens one of the cabinets in the bathroom and grabs you a few small white towels, placing them next to you before exiting. You flush the toilet again before slowly standing up, grabbing one of the towels and running some warm water on it.

You drag the cloth over your mouth, wiping away any residue that might be left from your previous puking session.

Pregnant? This couldn’t be real, the universe had to be just toying with you, punishing you for taking advantage of Izuku.

As you stand there, the weight of the possibility settling in, you can't help but feel overwhelmed. Thoughts race through your mind as you try to process the implications of the situation. The worker returns with a bowl of soup, and you gratefully accept it, hoping it will help settle your stomach.

The take out bowl, lifting the lid she had put on it to glance at the soup. She was right, it was odorless, and looked delicious. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice still shaky.

She gives you a kind smile. "You're welcome, dear. Take your time and eat slowly. It'll help you feel better."

You leave the bathroom with the soup in hand, avoiding the cleaning room where you had left Izuku and entering your office.

Mei turned to you, her laptop was still closed which meant she probably just got here. “Whoa you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” you say swifty, grabbing your bag from a nearby couch. “I’m not feeling well so I’m gonna go home, I have a really bad stomach bug.”

Mei eyes you suspiciously, she had gotten into the habit of doing that after your refusal to tell her what happened last week. With the damages to the VR set, and your constant avoidance of Izuku, it was hard to say nothing happened.

“And this has nothing to do with Deku, who’s currently coming up to the office now.”

Shit. “Nope, nothing! Okay bye!” You burst out of the office and hurried to the elevators, spamming the button so you could get down to the garage floor.

As you anxiously wait for the elevator, your mind races with thoughts of how to handle the situation. You can't face Izuku right now, not when you're still processing the possibility of being pregnant. The elevator doors finally open, and you step inside, relieved to have a momentary escape.

Once you reach the ground floor, you rush to your car in the garage, hoping to make a quick getaway. You start the engine and speed out of the parking lot, the weight of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders.

Driving aimlessly until you find yourself on a quiet street, parked by the side of the road. Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to come to terms with everything. You feel mixed emotions. What will this mean for your relationship with Izuku? And if you are pregnant, what choices will you have to make?

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. It's clear that you can't continue avoiding Izuku or the situation at hand. Things had just gotten very serious and it was time to face the truth and have an honest conversation with him. You reach for your phone, intending to call him but stop when it rings. He was calling you.

You hesitate. Maybe you should wait. Just until you have some more information. The uncertainty of the situation weighs heavily on your decision-making process. Once Izuku’s call ends you quickly grab your phone, opening your search browser and searching up how early signs can show, and what the symptoms were.

The internet seemed to make it worse, listing each of your symptoms in many different articles. Before you know it you’re starting to cry, small sobs leaving your mouth.

You stared at one of the articles, a huge text practically mocking you. ‘It’s going to be okay!’ But it wasn’t, it was not going to be okay.

Was buying a pregnancy test always so awkward?

The long line on the one register that was open, the simple music they play to drown out the silence in the store.

Standing with a hoodie pulled over your head and a stack of pregnancy tests in your arms, each a different brand, you can't help but feel self-conscious. The aisle you found yourself in seemed so distant from your usual shopping routine, and the music playing in the store only amplifies the awkwardness of the moment.

The weight of your situation hangs heavily on your shoulders while you wait for your turn to make the purchase. You glance around, hoping that no one you know sees you here. The line seems to move at a snail's pace, prolonging your discomfort. Each passing second feels like an eternity as you become acutely aware of the cashier's gaze and the potential judgment of other customers.

You were next in line, but the grandma that was in front of you just decided she wanted to take her sweet time. Pulling out her phone in request that the cashier explain the store’s mobile app to her. You let out a small groan of frustration, starting to tap your foot on the ground.

“Y/n?”

You freeze. Hoping that maybe whoever called your name would figure it wasn’t you.

You almost jump at the small tap of your shoulder, slowly turning around to meet the face of Uraraka.

“Ohhh heyyy Uraraka,” you extended out the words, trying to act surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh I was just patrolling around and wanted to grab a snack,” she says with a sweet smile. “What are you-“ she glances down at the unmistakable items in your hands.

You drop all the pregnancy tests onto the conveyor belt, “I’m just grabbing some items for a friend!” The transaction feels like it takes forever as you fumble for your wallet, your fingers seemingly incapable of functioning properly.

“You know, Deku has been asking about you.” Her voice turns into one of worry, “he says you haven’t been answering his calls.”

You feel a mix of relief and anxiety as Uraraka believes your hurried explanation and doesn't press further about the pregnancy tests. However, her mention of Izuku only adds to your growing unease.

"Yeah, I've just been really busy lately," you reply, attempting to sound nonchalant as you finally locate your wallet and pay for the items. "Lots of stuff going on, you know?"

Uraraka studies your face for a moment, her concern evident in her eyes. She reaches out and gently touches your arm.

"Y/n, if something's bothering you, you can always talk to me," she offers, her voice filled with sincerity.

“Well, I really have to go.” You tell the cashier to keep the change, grabbing your plastic bag. “Bye Uraraka,” you say quickly before walking out the store.

The one thing that could have gone wrong, went really fucking wrong. Uraraka would definitely tell Izuku that she saw you here. You purposely came out into the store when you knew Izuku would be across town patrolling so you wouldn’t have to run into him.

You look at the tests in your bag, it felt like the word ‘pregnancy’ that’s printed on the box was just mocking you. You throw the bag into the passenger seat of your car before getting in, leaning your head on the top of the steering wheel.

“Fuck…fuck!”

You contemplate your options, the right thing to do here was to stop being such a coward and tell Izuku straight up. But you weren’t going to do that, not yet. So you decided on locking yourself in your home until you gained the courage.

While navigating through the street you mind seems to torture you with all types of different sinarios , each of them ending with Izuku finding out and hating you forever.

You step out of the car, once you arrive home, and retrieve the bag of pregnancy tests from the passenger seat. As you enter your apartment, you close the door behind you, creating a barrier between yourself and the outside world. The familiar surroundings offer a temporary sanctuary, shielding you from the uncertainties that have been plaguing your mind.

You toss the bag onto the table, walking over to your fridge and taking out a gallon of water. You were going to need a lot of pee. As you chug down glass after glass, you find yourself pacing back and forth, your thoughts consumed. It is important that you stay honest with Izuku here, but fear grips you tightly.

Sitting down at the table, you reach for the bag of pregnancy tests and carefully examine them. Each test represents a potential answer to the question that has been haunting you. The longer you keep this secret, the harder it will be to face the consequences and find a resolution.

You take the bag and head to the bathroom. Filled with anxiety and hope, you follow the instructions carefully and lay out the multitude of tests you had on the counter.

You sat on the edge of your bathtub, biting down onto your knuckles as you awaited for some form of answer, but your wait was swiftly interrupted by a knock on your door.

Startled by the knock on the door, you quickly stand up, leaving the pregnancy tests on the counter. Your heart races, wondering who could be at your door at a time like this. The interruption adds another layer of tension to an already overwhelming situation.

Your heart almost stops as you peek through the peephole, it’s Deku and he’s holding many brown bags. You want to ignore his knocks, pretend like you weren’t home. But he calls out for you.

“I know you in there. Just open up please.”

Despite the fear inside you demanding you to say no, you opened the door to your friend. “Hey.”

"Hey, Izuku," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "What brings you here?"

Izuku shifts nervously, his gaze flickering from your face to the ground and back again. "I've been trying to reach you, but you haven't been answering my calls or messages," he says, his voice filled with genuine worry. "I was really concerned. Are you okay?"

You swallow hard, the weight of your secret pressing heavily upon you. You're not ready to face the potential consequences and the impact it may have on your relationship with him.

"I... I've just been dealing with some personal stuff," you manage to say, though your voice quivers slightly. "I needed some time alone."

Izuku's concern deepens, and he steps closer, his eyes searching yours for answers. "Y/n, you know you can always talk to me, right? I'm here for you."

His words are filled with sincerity, and a part of you longs to open up and let him in. But the fear of his reaction and the uncertain future holds you back. You can't bear to lose his friendship, especially not now. You change the subject.

“What cha got there?” You point to the brown bags in his hands.

“Oh- these, some grocery, figured we could make some dinner together.” He says sweetly, walking inside and placing the bags onto the countertop. “I got all the ingredients to make your favorite.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you step closer to inspect the contents of the bags. Izuku's gesture brings a sense of comfort and normalcy to the moment.

As you unpack the groceries together, a sense of ease settles over the room. Throughout the cooking process, conversation flows easily between you. You discuss everyday topics, while he shares villain stories, and engage in laughter that momentarily lifts the weight from your heart.

“You should have seen Mei’s face, she looked more pissed than Bakugou” you chuckle as you chop the carrots. Izuku's laughter is warm, his peace bringing the same butterflies you felt in highschool to your stomach.

"She does have that fiery temper, doesn't she? It must have been quite a sight." He says, standing over by the large pot. You glance over at him, he looks silly with the apron you forced him to wear, but you couldn’t love him any less. It's in these moments that you realize how much you cherish his presence and the connection you share. But there is something important hanging in the air between you.

But for now, you choose to enjoy the simplicity of the present, relishing in the familiar banter that has always made your friendship special. Until a sharp pain shoots through your finger as your hand slips and the knife almost chops your thumb off.

“Shit!” You curse at the pain, holding your hand up and seeing the crimson blood flow out the wound.

“What happened?” Izuku turns around immediately, grabbing a paper towel to help you with the bleeding. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

“The bathroom,” you say, putting pressure on the wound as he leaves the kitchen and walks down the hallway. The pain throbs through your finger, causing you to wince, but none of that matters when you remember what you had laid out in the bathroom.

The pregnancy test!

You follow Izuku's hurried footsteps with your eyes, cursing him in your mind for his quickness. The pain in your injured finger momentarily fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by the pregnancy tests laid out in the bathroom. But it’s too late.

He’d paused in the bathroom doorway, eyes set on the multiple pregnancy tests on the bathroom counter. You peaked over his broad shoulder, they still had yet to show results.

Izuku turns his head slightly, glancing at you with surprise, concern, and a hint of fear in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to escape him, lost in the moment. His brows furrowed in confusion, searching for an explanation that you have yet to give.

He finally summons the courage to speak. “You’re pregnant?”

“I-I don’t know yet,” you mutter.

He’s fully turned around now, looking at you with an intense eye. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me? If you thought I wouldn’t take responsibility-”

“Wait- you remember that night?” The words escape your lips before you can stop yourself.

Izuku's expression softens. "Yes, I remember," he replies, his voice laced with vulnerability. "I've been trying to reach out to you, to talk about it, but you've been avoiding me."

Guilt gnaws at you, and you lower your gaze, unable to meet his eye. "I didn't know how to face you, Izuku. I was scared and confused. I took advantage of you…."

“Took advantage?” He repeats humorously. “Y/n…I was well aware of what I was doing. If anything, I took advantage of you.”

Now you were at a loss for words. You stutter as the guilt and self-blame that had been weighing heavily on you start to dissipate. “No, no, it was a side effect, from the VR.”

“Well, maybe it influenced me,” he shakes his head. “But it was you I had in that simulation, and when I saw you in the room with me, I couldn’t help myself.”

You stand there, stunned by Izuku's words. "Izuku," you say. "I didn't know. I thought I had crossed a line, that I had taken advantage of you."

He reaches out, gently wiping away a tear from your cheek. A wave of warmth spreads through your chest. The barriers that had kept you apart crumble, and a renewed sense of closeness envelops you both.

But the moment is interrupted by a loud beep from one of the electronic tests you had bought. With a quick glance at each other, you both swiftly made your way back into the bathroom, each test fading in a result.

Not Pregnant.

You could almost pass out from the relief you felt, another tear slipping out your eye. You begin to laugh at yourself, a self-deprecating laugh.

Izuku puts his hand on your shoulder, pulling you close. “What’s so funny?”

“I was so stressed out for nothing,” you say with a sigh. “I literally thought my life was over.”

He pouts, “and what’s so life ruining about being pregnant with my kid?”

You can't help but chuckle at Izuku's playful response, his words easing the tension that had built up inside you. You lean into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort enveloping you.

"You're right," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Being pregnant with your child doesn't sound so bad after all."

“Great.” He says, lifting you up easily into his arms. “Then you won’t mind trying again.”

©LuvloveUni

#izuku mydoria #midoriya izuku #izuku x you #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #izuku smut #virtual reality #smut #mha #deku #deku smut #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #bnha deku #deku x y/n #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader

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whats-her-quirk · 2 years

Text

(with or without) my best intentions

pairing: tenya iida x fem!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

tags: office romance, coworkers to friends with benefits to lovers, quirkless modern AU, romcom vibes and cheesiness

warnings: stress and anxiety, alcohol, consensual drunk sex, public sex, wall sex (Tenya lifts reader), brief pregnancy scare, car sex, tit sucking, secret hookups, teasing, shoe dangling, lingerie, oral sex, pining, fluffy smut, one (1) use of ‘sir’ as a pet name, tenya says ‘good girl,’ a wedding but not ours, minor character ships

word count: 20k

a/n: it's finally here! This is my piece for the @mybigbangacademia

art from @kaexiao - coming soon!

♪ fuck and run - surfer blood

When Tenya is running, air hot in his lungs as he paces himself to his music, he feels weightless. He’s curated his playlists by beats per minute, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes against the pavement syncing up as he achieves cardio zen. When it’s just him and the road—he’ll use a treadmill in the winter, but he’s always preferred to run outside as much as possible—his mind tends to finally, blessedly, switch off.

He wipes a bead of sweat from under the bridge of his glasses as he turns back onto his street for the final stretch of his jog. The exercise is second nature at this point; he’s been running since he was a hyperactive little kid that his parents signed up for cross-country. His stamina and endurance are only improving with age and the magic of a decent weight-training regimen. For all intents and purposes, he’s hitting his late twenties right in stride.

So why now, when he’s in the best shape of his life, more comfortable with himself as a person than he’s ever been, and working his way up to middle management at the office, does Tenya feel like he’s being dragged into a black hole that’s trying to swallow him alive? Before, his morning run was enough to clear his head and get him through the day, and lifting and resistance bands at night would help stave off the twisting, anxious feelings again until he fell into bed, dead tired and lost to the world.

But the past few weeks, all he’s done is toss and turn, barely hitting REM sleep before his alarm is going off and he’s lacing up his tennis shoes to do it all over again. He can’t focus at work; he can’t relax at home. He’s never been this stressed out in his life, and he can’t seem to figure out why.

—

Izuku calls Tenya while he’s on his way to work. Tenya answers with the Bluetooth in his steering wheel, which he doesn’t particularly like to do because it takes a bit of his focus off the road. However, he knows that his friend is in a bit of a rough patch, and an ignored call might do more harm than good for both of them.

“Did you see?” Izuku asks with a sniffle and absolutely no context.

“See what?”

“They went Facebook official. That means it’s for real, for real.” Izuku groans, and Tenya hears something that sounds distinctly like his friend’s head hitting a table. That’s all the context Tenya needs.

Izuku has been Tenya’s best friend since middle school, and for almost as many years, he’s been in love with Uraraka. While he had tried a few different times to show her how he felt, he refused to come right out and confess, for fear of rejection. Now he’s paying the price—according to mutual friends, she’s been seeing Bakugou for nearly two months. Izuku has been an absolute wreck since he found out, and now, apparently, they’ve changed their status to ‘in a relationship.’

“I’m sorry, Midoriya. I know how much you care about her.” Tenya can’t think of anything more comforting to say as he turns into the parking deck of the office building.

“I feel like someone ripped my heart out of my body and stomped on it,” Izuku sighs. “And why did it have to be him?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Tenya can imagine how much it stings, losing the person of your dreams to your sworn rival turned frenemy—as convoluted as it sounds. He wants to be sympathetic, really. But in all honesty, Izuku never made a move when he had the chance, so he should have seen something like this coming. She wasn’t bound to stay single forever.

Tenya pulls into his parking spot, right on time to be five minutes early. After reassuring his friend that he is not, in fact, ‘actually dying’ and promising to meet up after work, he’s able to get Izuku to end the call. With his briefcase in hand, he heads for the walkway that leads inside the building.

In the six years since Tenya started working at Plus Ultra, the company has grown and changed considerably, but one thing he can always count on. When he steps in the front door, Kaminari greets him brightly from the reception desk. “Hey there, handsome. Happy Monday!”

“Good morning.” Tenya knows not to take Kaminari’s flirtatiousness seriously—he talks to everyone like that, and it’s one of the reasons he makes such a good receptionist. In fact, his organization skills are so dismal at times, Tenya has to think his friendly, easygoing energy is the only thing keeping him employed.

Back when they were hired, Tenya and Kaminari were two of about twenty employees. Now the company employs nearly fifty people, plus freelancers. What was once a small startup selling cutting-edge exercise and physical therapy equipment to gyms and health centers around the country is now a leader in fitness product design and customized equipment distribution. While Tenya likes to think that it was his business degree and work portfolio that earned him his job, he’s fairly certain it didn’t hurt that he’s a bit of a health and fitness nut himself.

When Tenya looks up from wiping his feet on the rug, he notices he’s not the only one at reception. You’re bent over the front of Kaminari’s desk, your purse still slung across your body and your feet hovering off the floor and out of your shoes. You’re craning your neck to see Kaminari’s computer screen—why you didn’t just walk around the desk, Tenya couldn’t guess. All he knows is he has to force his eyes away from the slit in the back of your pencil skirt, for the sake of his dignity and yours.

He clears his throat before speaking your name, offering you a polite, “Good morning,” as well. While he’s not quite sure if he would call you a close friend, you’re certainly in his circle of ‘work friends.’ You haven’t been at the company as long as he has, but the two of you have worked together for years—you in marketing, him in the quality department.

“Hey, Iida.” You drop back to the floor, bare feet sliding back into your little pointed loafers. “Wanna come with us to lunch today? We’re gonna go to the deli, I think.” You motion to Kaminari with your hand as you extend the invitation.

Tenya adjusts his tie as he rounds the corner toward his department. “Sure, just send me a message on IM when you want to leave.” For better or worse, the office uses messaging software that’s equally as useful for sending quick notes that aren’t worth a full email as it is for sending memes from across the room.

It’s still early, so Tenya doesn’t run into anyone else on his way to his cubicle. He decides he’ll wait to grab a coffee before the weekly department meeting, opting to crack open his email first instead. After starting out as an account manager, working directly to meet client needs, Tenya was quickly transferred to quality assurance, where the work is more internal and process-driven. It’s his job to make sure that design, manufacturing, and sales are running as efficiently as possible. In practice, it’s mostly spreadsheets and data, but Tenya takes great pride in every improvement he’s been able to help coordinate.

Coworkers trickle in, settling in their cubicles as Tenya works his way through several of the emails that he got over the weekend. He’s so focused on getting the simple inquiries taken care of that he doesn’t notice the time until Shouto appears in his doorway. “You coming?”

“Yep.” Leaving his email where it is, Tenya tucks a yellow legal pad under his arm and a pen in the pocket of his vest. He’d wear a blazer if it didn’t get so hot in the building during the summer. For the next few months, to keep from sweating through his shirts every day, he’ll stick with a vest and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves when he wants to cool down.

At the doorway, Shouto hands him one of the two paper coffee cups he’s holding, and they head to the conference room. “Thanks, I was just about to get my own.” Tenya takes a long, blissful sip of his coffee—one cream, Shouto knows.

Shouto yawns, and Tenya notices the dark circle rimming his unscarred eye. “No problem. If you didn’t want it, I would have just drank both.”

“Long night?” Tenya asks, though he thinks he knows the answer.

“Long weekend,” Shouto sighs. “When I wasn’t fighting with my dad about the guest list, I was begging Hanta to help me choose the flowers, the napkins—anything. It’s like pulling teeth with him and I don’t know why.”

The two of them pass the rows of cubicles separated by low partitions until they reach the glass door of the conference room. Shouto slumps into a seat just inside the door, so Tenya sits beside him. “Maybe he’s just feeling overwhelmed with the wedding stuff. It seems like you both are.”

After eight years together, Shouto finally asked Hanta to marry him, and from Tenya’s point of view, his friend has been stressed out of his mind ever since. Hanta has always been so laid back, practically the opposite of Shouto. While Hanta’s generally aloof disposition probably doesn’t help matters, Tenya suspects more of the trouble has to do with Shouto’s family. The Todorokis are well-known in the area—Shouto’s father is a high-ranking government official, and his sister was recently elected to city council. One of his brothers is a professional athlete; the other was publicly disgraced in a hastily hushed scandal a few years back. Even with an estranged mother that has only recently come back into the picture, somehow Shouto has always been the black sheep of the family. And it sounds like his father sees this wedding as more of a publicity stunt than anything else.

“Overwhelmed doesn’t even begin to cover it,” says Shouto. “Sometimes I wish we could just elope and be done with it.”

“Why don’t you?” Tenya asks, flipping over to a fresh sheet of paper on his legal pad. Their coworkers filter into the room one by one, slowly filling the seats around them at the long conference table.

“My father would disown me faster than he did Touya.” Shouto polishes off his coffee with one long sip. “Plus, Hanta deserves a perfect day if he’s going to be stuck with me for the rest of his life.”

“Don’t say that,” Tenya scolds as gently as he can. “You’ve always been a good partner to him. Maybe you should just be honest about needing his help.”

Shouto shrugs as their boss, Sasaki, takes a seat at the head of the table. “Guess so.”

The quality department holds an all-hands meeting first thing on Monday mornings—a necessary evil that helps address the priorities for the week. As VP of the company and head of the quality department, Sasaki leads the meeting in his usual droll tone. He cracks a few jokes about last week’s audits that mostly fall flat to the tired, Monday energy in the room, but at least he tries. Just before the meeting wraps up, Toshinori, the company’s founder and CEO, pops his head in to say good morning and to wish the team a good week. “I’ll be leaving for a rock climbing trip with some potential investors on Thursday,” he says brightly, “so try not to have too much fun while I’m gone!”

Sasaki rubs his temples with the pads of his fingers. “I’ll be covering his duties in his absence, so if you need me Thursday or Friday, no you don’t. Ok, dismissed.”

Papers and laptops shuffle as people file out of the room, some eager and some reluctant to get on with the rest of their mornings. Shouto nudges Tenya’s elbow. “I’m gonna get another coffee. Want one?”

“I’ll come with you,” Tenya offers, but before he can follow Shouto out the door, Sasaki’s voice rings from across the room.

“Iida, could you stay back a minute?”

“Of course.” Tenya waves to Shouto as he makes his exit, then approaches Sasaki at the front of the room. While he’s worked fairly closely with Sasaki the past few years, their relationship is formal, professional perhaps to a fault. When his boss wants to chat, it usually means extra work for Tenya. He tries not to sound too apathetic. “Is there something wrong?”

Sasaki straightens his stack of papers and tucks multiple pens between his fingers before he answers. “Actually, no. Not this time, anyway.” Tenya cracks a smile at his dry humor. Sasaki merely clears his throat. “I won’t keep you in suspense. The company is growing, and as Toshinori takes on more of the public relations work I loathe, my workload is getting out of control.”

“How can I help?”

“I’ll be stepping away from leading the quality department, and we’re creating a Quality Manager role to take over those responsibilities. Would you like to be considered for the position?”

Tenya speaks before he thinks. “Yes, absolutely.”

Sasaki nods. “Excellent. I’ll get back to you with more details soon, after we talk it over with a few other people.”

Tenya’s own words sit heavily in his own gut for the rest of the morning. The chance to move up in the company—that’s what everyone wants, right? He would be insane to turn down the opportunity for a promotion that probably comes with more perks and a bigger paycheck. He knows that. But even when he’s sitting in the deli down the street at lunch, picking at his salad, he can’t bring himself to be excited about the prospect of it.

“You ok, Iida? You’re white as a sheet.” Shaken—there he was, zoning out again—Tenya looks up from his hands to find your eyes on him, teasing but with a hint of genuine concern behind them.

Kaminari, his mouth full of sweet potato fries, points at Tenya with his fork. “You heard about the promotion, didn’t you?”

“What promotion?” Shouto tagged along for lunch, but he’s mostly been texting since you sat down. Tenya wasn’t sure he was even listening to the conversation.

“How do you know about that?” Tenya asks Kaminari, who leans dramatically over the table to answer while stealing one of Tenya’s fries.

“Honey, I am the eyes and ears of this place. If there’s something going on, I know about it.”

You shove Kaminari by the shoulder. “Shut up. You didn’t even know that Hatsume girl from IT asked Iida out until I told you, and everybody knew about that.”

“Please don’t remind me.” Even though it happened years ago, Tenya still cringes thinking about how loudly Hatsume had propositioned him, right after he had walked out of the bathroom, no less. To make things worse, he’d been so surprised he could only stammer out an uneven yes? that sounded like its own question. The date had gone horribly; he’s avoided calling IT for anything ever since.

“I didn’t mean personal stuff,” says Kaminari. “When it comes to business stuff, I hear what people are talking about. And Iida might be the new Quality Manager.”

Hearing the title again makes Tenya’s stomach flip, but he can’t stop from smiling when you grab his arm and squeal, “Really? That’s so exciting!” It’s stupid, but he thinks it’s really cute how energetic you are.

“Nice.” Shouto puts down his phone and taps his fist against Tenya’s shoulder in congratulations.

“Thank you both, but I don’t have the job yet.” Tenya fidgets with his silverware, aligning the fork and knife with his napkin and then his plate. There’s something he’s been wondering all afternoon. “Sasaki made it sound like they were considering others too. Kaminari, you wouldn’t happen to know…”

“Oh, I know. Or at least, I know of one. I was dropping off some mail and heard Sasaki talking to Monoma in his office. Frankly I don’t even think he’s trying to keep any of this a secret because the door was wide open.”

Tenya rolls his eyes. Of course he’s up against Monoma—that brown-noser.

“He hasn’t said anything to me. Guess that means I’m not in the running,” Shouto hums.

The color rushes out of Kaminari’s face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Todoroki. I didn’t mean to—”

Shouto stops him and shrugs. “It’s fine. Honestly, I wouldn’t want all that responsibility anyway. I have enough to worry about.” Tenya could honestly say the same thing, but before he can comment, you touch his arm again and his mouth dries up.

“Don’t worry. Even though I honestly have no idea what you actually do all day, I know you work harder than just about everyone. No offense, Todoroki.”

Shouto’s absorbed in his phone again. “None taken. I work smarter, not harder.”

“Yeah Iida, lighten up!” Tenya can tell by his big, goofy grin that Kaminari doesn’t mean anything by it. He has no way of knowing how Tenya’s been trapped in his head recently, even before this promotion was thrown into the mix. Even if he’s always been a little high-strung, Tenya knows himself, and if he could relax, even a little bit, he would have done it a long time ago.

—

After waking up to more than a dozen missed texts from various times over the night, Tenya invites Midoriya to come to the gym with him before work. “We’ll get coffee after, my treat,” he tempts over the phone, and reluctantly, Midoriya agrees.

Tenya swings by Midoriya’s tailor shop to pick him up—apparently, he hadn’t gone home last night. His friend is mostly quiet on the way to the gym, heaving restless sighs out the window every few minutes. Frankly, he looks like a wreck, and he clearly hasn’t slept all night. If nothing else, Tenya hopes that a workout will tire Midoriya out enough that he can at least get a little rest.

They part ways after Tenya checks them in at the front desk. Midoriya heads for the lifting machines while Tenya goes up to the second floor to run on the indoor track. Earbuds in, he starts with some stretching, then sets off on a warm-up lap before picking up his speed. He’s groggy this morning, and three miles later, Tenya still doesn’t feel any more awake. He switches to the rowing machine for the last twenty minutes before he needs to get in the shower, but even when he’s pouring sweat, he never gets that rush of endorphins he’s looking for. He just feels tired.

After a brisk shower, Tenya towel dries his hair as best he can and gets changed into his work clothes. Midoriya is waiting on a bench near the entrance, and they walk to the cafe a few doors down where Tenya buys coffee, as promised, and croissants, as a bonus. But when it comes to comforting his friend, Tenya has no idea what to say.

It’s not at all that he doesn’t care. While Midoriya slowly opens up, lamenting his feelings for Uraraka and his regrets about not confessing to her sooner, Tenya listens and empathizes as best he can. It’s clear from his tearfulness that Midoriya needs to get his feelings off his chest, but Tenya can’t come up with any legitimate condolences beyond, “I see,” and, “I’m sorry.”

“I really love her, I’m sure of it,” says Midoriya. “But maybe deep down, the reason I waited so long was because I could tell she didn’t feel the same. I’ve just been putting off the inevitable.” With a sigh, he slowly seems to come to grips with his situation—that it’s been a long time coming. Tenya is glad he could help, but at the same time, seeing his best friend like this confirms that he’s doing the right thing by staying single right now.

Dating someone—even pining after someone—is too stressful for the state of mind he’s been stuck in. There’s too much to worry about when someone else is thrown in the mix. He can barely deal with himself right now. He doesn’t envy Shouto either—he’s in a long-term, committed relationship, and he’s still stressed out by it. So that settles it. Tenya will get out of this slump he’s in by going on the same way he has for the past two years: on his own.

–

The work day is a long one. Because of Toshinori’s absence at the end of the week, Tenya steps up to take some work off of Sasaki’s plate, including fixing some reports littered with egregious mistakes that are painstaking to find and correct. It’s a great chance to show off his work ethic in light of the promotion, but that doesn’t make it any less taxing on his already frazzled mind. By 4:30, he’s running on fumes, but then you arrive at his desk.

“Hey, Iida. Do you have plans tonight?” There’s a glint in your eye—this is more than small talk.

Tenya hesitates, but answers, “Not really. Why?” Maybe you just need a ride home, he thinks. Or maybe you want him to take a look at some marketing materials you’re working on. It’s happened before. He hopes it’s the former, but he’s wrong on both counts.

You rock back and forth on your feet, hands clasped casually behind your back. “Oh good. Then you can come to happy hour with us.”

Tenya adjusts his glasses, as if that would help ensure he heard you correctly. “On a Tuesday?” He draws the words out slowly before realizing that he sounds incredibly judgmental. “I don’t usually drink during the week,” he clarifies.

That makes you smile. “Somehow, I thought you might say that.”

You stroll into his cubicle and lean on his desk. It’s the same way you were bent over the reception desk the day before, hips pushed back and elbows tucked into your sides. He’s sitting beside you, but he can imagine the way your skirt is riding up your legs. He wonders if you do this on purpose, if you want people to look, or if it’s completely subconscious. He clears his throat, ashamed of himself for thinking of you that way. It’s not only rude, but completely inappropriate for a coworker.

“We can tell you’re stressed about the promotion. Just come with us to the bar and put it out of your mind for a bit.” Tenya can hear the fibers of your pantyhose humming as you rub one leg against the other. It’s a sound he’s never registered before—well, not when it wasn’t his own rough hands dragging against someone else’s lace-covered thigh.

Tenya takes a sip from his water bottle to clear his husky throat before he replies. “Who is ‘we’?”

Fortunately, you stand up straight again, and he can get his head back on straight. “Me, Denki, Jirou, Shinsou. Todoroki says he’s gonna pick Sero up on the way. A few others might stop by for a while.”

Tenya rubs his temples. Though it’s not usually in his nature, he can’t deny that a drink sounds good after the day he’s had. And what could one or two Long Island iced teas hurt?

“All right. I’ll join you for a little while. I probably won’t stay too late though.” He means it when he says it. But after seeing you smile back at him, after splitting a cab and squeezing into a corner booth at the bar, after seeing Denki flirt with both Jirou and Shinsou, after watching Shouto kiss his fiance over and over again, after another cocktail, and another, and another—suddenly it’s eleven PM and Tenya doesn’t want to go home if he’s going to be all alone.

So because he can’t stand to watch the couples anymore, he turns his attention to you. You’ve taken off the little cap-sleeve jacket you were wearing at the office, baring your shoulders along with a neckline that’s just a little too low to be work-appropriate in the first place. When you lean forward over the table to take a sip from your straw or laugh at some ridiculous joke Denki made, your breasts are pushed up and together—a sight that makes Tenya’s mouth water. Your face warms with every half-price drink you order, your hair falling out of place, your smile a little looser as the night wears on.

He’s thought about you before. Of course he has. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re quick, witty, and unbelievably kind to others. Tenya rarely hears you talk about yourself. You always seem more interested in everybody else’s ideas, their successes, even their struggles. He’s fairly certain it was all your idea to get a group together to go out tonight—probably entirely for his own benefit. But surely you’d do the same for anybody.

So what’s he thinking? While everyone else is talking and laughing and having a good time, why is he bothering to stare at you like he’s going to do anything about it? He’s known for months, maybe even years, that he doesn’t want to get involved with anybody. But fuck, what he really wants right now is a dark corner and a warm body. And if it should be anybody, his buzzed brain reasons, why not you—someone he actually likes?

No, he corrects himself. Dating is messy. Casual sex is messier. He doesn’t want that, and he needs to remember it. If he’s so damn horny, he can take care of himself after he gets a ride home, and that’s the end of it.

Minutes pass in a haze as he finishes another drink. Shouto bumps his shoulder every time he moves to put his arm around Hanta before he’s peeled away again, so Tenya stands up. He rolls his shoulders, the vinyl booth doing nothing to support his back that’s still a little sore from the rowing machine. He cracks his neck to one side and then the other, and when he looks up again, he finds you with your eyes locked on him.

Blinking hard, Tenya watches as you literally climb up onto your seat and then over the goddamn table to get to him while the others scream and laugh. He reaches a hand out as your ankle wobbles in your high heel, catching you when you stumble into his chest on your way back down to the floor. You laugh, and it makes him laugh.

“You wanna go help me get a round of shots?” you ask, words not exactly slurring but definitely starting to meld. He agrees, and through no will of his own, his palm creeps to your lower back as he follows you toward the bar.

You turn a corner, putting a wall between the two of you and your friends at the table. Tenya actually runs into you, but it’s because you stop walking to spin into him, bracing yourself on his chest and shoulders again. “I saw you looking at me,” you admit point-blank.

“I’m sorry.” The thought doesn’t occur to him to deny it. The way you’re leaning your weight into him presses your chest against him, and if he’s not careful, he’s going to get hard pretty quickly.

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Means I’ve been looking at you too.” Your hands climb his tie up to his throat. “Do you wanna kiss me?”

Heat rushes over him, and he takes you by the waist, pulling you closer. “I want to do far more than just kiss you right now.” He’s hardly gotten the words out before you wrap your arms around his neck and capture his lips with your own.

He should stop you, the rational part of Tenya thinks, as he kisses you back. But he doesn’t want to stop. Kissing you lights up parts of his brain that have gone dark for months, maybe longer. Sweet dopamine bursts through the walls he’s built up inside, rushing to his head the same way a runner’s high used to. Now that he’s had a taste, he can’t help but want more.

His hands search for the perfect spot to hold you, sliding over your hips to cup your ass and press you tight against him. You push forward until he staggers, his back hitting the wall. You kiss until you’re breathless, stealing the air from his lungs, and then you insist, “Take me in the bathroom.”

He may not have dated in a while, but Tenya’s not a fool. He knows what moving to a secondary location means. Any of your coworkers could walk around the corner and catch you in the act right now. If you want to go further, you should find some privacy. With all the adrenaline driving him right now, he’s not going to deny you.

Tenya breaks from your lips to wrap his arm around your back. Ignoring a dirty look from the bartender, who must realize what’s about to happen, he leads you quickly down the hallway where the bathrooms are. He doesn’t even pay attention to which one he follows you into. As soon as the door is locked behind you, he pins you against it.

One hand holds your shoulder while the other cups your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you again. Your lips are warm as you let his tongue slide past them, so soft but so firm. Tenya hasn’t kissed anyone in years, but he didn’t realize how much he missed it.

“Mmm, Tenya.” You hum into his mouth as your hand slides down his thigh, straying to his bulging crotch with a shiver. Your hands are so much smaller than his, but they feel so much better than his own ever could as you rub against his erection. You sigh as he kisses you harder, deeper. Do you even realize how wild you’re making him? How hard?

Tenya releases his grip to fumble with his belt. “Do you want to—”

“Yeah, I want you.” You don’t even let him finish, don’t even give him a second to get his zipper down before you do it yourself. Your fingers are shaking, but you moan in pleasure when your fingers dip under his waistband and pull out his cock. His breath hitches on a groan—everything is moving so quickly, but he doesn’t want it to end. You don’t waste any time—you just spit in your hand and spread it down his shaft with tight, even strokes.

Something inside Tenya snaps. He forgot he could feel this good, completely forgot how satisfying sex can be when he really, really wants it—when he has someone to lose himself in. Fuck his conscience, and fuck his fears about getting in over his head. He lets his hips buck into your hold as his carnality takes over.

“Fuck,” he moans low, letting his forehead fall against the wall behind you.

You laugh coyly. “Feel good?”

“Yes, God, yes.” This time, Tenya takes your face in both hands, stealing ravenous kisses as you wring the head of his cock in your fist. When he can’t wait any longer, he turns your head to the side and sucks a mark into the crook of your neck.

“You want me?” he asks again.

“Please.”

“I love the way you beg,” he growls. “Take your panties off.”

You do as you’re told, body shivering with delight as you peel a pair of light purple underwear down your legs before shoving them in his left pants pocket.

“You’re dirty,” he taunts.

“So are you,” you mewl, eyes traveling down to where he wraps his own hand around his cock, spreading precum over the head with his thumb.

“I think you like it.”

With his clean hand, Tenya hikes your tight little skirt up. With the wet one, he reaches between your legs as you spread them. You lean back against the wall to push your hips out, gasping when he grazes your clit before scissoring through your folds. He spends a few blissful minutes fingering you, swirling around your hole and then dipping inside with two fingers to make sure you’re slick enough to take him. He waits until you’re moaning brazenly, fingers scraping against the tile wall behind you, before he pulls them back out.

You collapse into him as he bends to grab under your thighs, lifts you, and wedges you between himself and the wall. His back and triceps are sore, but it’s nothing he can’t handle, especially not when you’re panting into his neck and begging, “Please, fuck me, fuck me, Tenya.”

He frees one hand to help line himself up, and it’s not the most graceful thing he’s ever done, but when you clench and whine as he pops the head of his cock inside you, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect. How could he forget how good this feels? How could he have denied himself for so long when your dripping pussy squeezing around him makes him forget everything but you?

Even with how slick you are, it takes him a few thrusts to bottom out while you claw at his back, whimpering. Clinging to him, you grind your hips down and clench.

Tenya swears, thrusting his hips for more friction. He fucks you like an animal, head empty except for how tight and hot you are inside and how badly he wants to cum. He’s sweating like mad, hair sticking to his forehead and his glasses fogging up, but he continues to chase after his peak, using you like he would a toy while you moan in his ear.

“Tenya, please.” You start to unwrap one arm from his neck, but when your weight shifts against the wall, you put it back.

“I got you,” he promises.

He holds you tight against the wall as you reach down to play with your clit. You clench harder around him until you cry out, and he grinds against the pulsing of your orgasm until it pulls him over the edge with you.

As he comes down, the tension in his screaming muscles releases. He leans into you, pinning your weight to the cool, tile wall. Spend leaks down your ass and thighs, wetting the front of his pants, but he doesn’t care. Tenya hasn’t felt this good in a long time.

In a haze, Tenya helps you down to your feet. He tries to help you clean up at the sink, but he’s not sure he really does anything helpful. All he knows is that every few minutes, he hears you sigh and giggle. When you’re both tucked back into your clothes, you each order your own cab, and you sneak out the back door to meet them. He makes sure you’re in your car safely before he gets into his.

When he falls into bed, Tenya has the most peaceful night of sleep he’s had in months.

–

When Tenya wakes up, his mouth is dry, his head is throbbing, and he can’t remember when or how he got home. He’s still fully dressed, down to his glasses and even his shoes, which is disgusting. He’ll have to wash the sheets as soon as he gets home tonight.

As his consciousness fades in alongside his pounding headache, Tenya tosses his glasses on the nightstand and rubs his palms over his face. He drank way too much last night, obviously. There’s no way his aching body can go for a run this morning—it’ll be challenging enough just to get himself to work. He sits up in bed, cracks his back, then feels something bunched in his pocket.

When he pulls out your lavender panties, he flops back down onto his pillow like he’s been shot dead.

Everything that happened rushes back to him at once—you climbing over the table, him pinning you against the wall. Between short waves of nausea, Tenya berates himself. That was a stupid, stupid thing to do, and he knows he’s going to pay for it.

Tenya has been in relationships, however short they might have been. He knows, generally, how to navigate those. He’s also had one night stands before. He can handle those too, always with grace and respect. What makes this time different is the fact that he hadn’t planned to sleep with you, had never partaken in sex so casually. Every time before, whether he was in a relationship or not, he had known sex was on the table, so to speak.

This is entirely new territory, and it rattles him.

To make matters worse, every time he pictures the way you looked or remembers a sound that you made, heat rises in his chest. You’d felt amazing, made him feel amazing, and now he’s not sure he’ll be able to forget it.

Tenya drags himself out of bed, groaning unintentionally at the tightness in his quads and lower back, and chugs two glasses of water while frying himself some eggs and potatoes. He knows if he doesn’t get some food in him, he’ll never make it through the day at work, and he doesn’t want to look bad in front of Sasaki, especially not now.

He surely hasn’t been himself lately, he thinks, dousing his eggs in hot sauce, but Tenya never thought he could do something so foolish. You’d both been consenting but under the influence, so where does that leave you? Fuck, he hadn’t even used a condom.

You hadn’t asked him to, and with how long it’s been since he slept with anyone else, he’s not at risk of giving you any diseases, but that doesn’t make it ok. As much as he dreads having to ask if you’re clean, he should probably also find out if you’re on some kind of birth control. He can feel the acid in his stomach burning just thinking about it, but he needs to face the consequences of his actions. Whatever you want to do about it, he’s fine with that.

When he finds his phone buried in his bedsheets, there’s a text from you.

If you want to talk about last night, you know where to find me. But I'm ok, and if you want to pretend it never happened, I understand.

He sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket. It’s selfless of you to offer to do that, but although it would probably be the easier way out, Tenya wouldn’t do that to you. Having sex with you hadn’t meant nothing—you didn’t mean nothing to him. He needs to face you and come clean. You deserve that.

Since his car is still at the office, Tenya has to call another cab to take him to work. After the commute that reignites his headache, Tenya gulps down a bottle of water from the vending machine and pulls himself together. All he wants is to sit down, but there’s only one way to his cubicle, and it’s past the front desk.

Kaminari’s chin is perched in his hands, a crooked smirk on his face. “Hey buddy, where’d you go last night?”

That’s right. The two of you left without saying goodbye or settling your tabs. He’ll have to go back to the bar to get his credit card. Somehow, after all the water he’s had this morning, Tenya’s mouth is still dry when he opens it to speak. He croaks, “I’m sorry, I was not in my right mind last night. I called a taxi without even thinking.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

You and Kaminari are close, but Tenya has no clue if this is something you would tell him. Apparently not, though, because he replies, “Did you go home with that bartender? I swear she had her eyes on you all night.” Unless Kaminari has a remarkable poker face, he doesn’t know anything.

Tenya starts to shake his head, but that hurts his eyes, so he just lifts a hand. “Nothing like that. Just wanted to get home and rest.”

Kaminari cackles. Maybe he’s one of those people that doesn’t get hangovers. Lucky. “All right, whatever you say, big guy. Hey, Todoroki has your watch. You took it off at the table for some reason.”

So he’ll have to make sure to catch up with Shouto at some point today and get it back. Thankfully, Shouto isn’t the type to ask questions, and he was preoccupied all night anyway.

For most of the day, Tenya stays holed up at his desk. After a few cups of coffee and a lunch he ordered in (Kaminari is kind enough to bring it to his cubicle for him), Tenya’s hangover starts to fade, but he can’t shake the anxious feeling sitting in his gut all day. Shouto drops by with his watch but doesn’t stick around to chat, which is perfectly fine. Tenya doesn’t feel like talking to anyone, and he doesn’t want to chance running into you before he’s prepared himself, so he keeps to his spreadsheets and tries to make up for his slow morning.

Any time he gives himself a minute to think, Tenya’s mind wanders back to that dimly-lit restroom. He can’t help but wonder how something that felt so good in the moment can feel so horrible in hindsight. Not only is he ashamed, but he’s also embarrassed. He can only hope he hasn’t ruined his rapport—his friendship—with you.

Around 4:30, Tenya realizes he has about 50 unread IMs. He leaves his notification sounds off because he’s been told that they annoy people, so he hadn’t noticed all the messages coming in while he worked. Worried that something has gone terribly wrong, he opens his inbox in a panic.

What he finds is a barrage of images uploaded to a group chat by Kaminari, who declares that it is officially “meme-o’clock.” It wouldn’t be the first time he’s been bored enough to enact such an activity, and Tenya’s sure it won’t be the last.

While Kaminari has posted most of the memes, Shouto and Jirou have also contributed several deep-fried jpegs of their own. Shinsou chimes in with a single cat picture, but you’re noticeably absent until Tenya hovers over the emoji reactions. You’ve left several cry-laughing faces under the images, but they ring hollow. Normally, you’d be sending pictures to the chat too. Tenya starts to wonder if you’re really ok, like you’d said in your text.

Worry replacing awkwardness, Tenya picks up his phone and finally texts you back.

Do you want to meet me in the parking garage after work? I need to go back to the bar and get my card.

A few minutes later, you respond.

Sure, I need to do that too. Thanks, Iida.

After gathering up his stuff, Tenya finds you waiting by his car—leaning against it, legs crossed demurely at the ankles. You’re wearing a knee-length dress with a frilly collar that he would find adorable if he wasn’t so damn nervous. When you hear him coming toward you, you smile, and for some reason, that breaks his heart.

“Hey.”

Tenya takes a deep breath. “Hey. Do you still want to ride with me?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes a bit. “‘Course. That’s why I’m here.”

Tenya unlocks the car and ushers you into the passenger’s seat, waiting to close the door for you before walking around to climb in. He rolls his neck a little, feeling tension building between his shoulders, as he pulls out of the parking garage and heads toward the bar.

He doesn’t bother to connect his phone to Bluetooth or turn on the radio. It’s already too loud and chaotic inside his head, even though he can’t get himself to say anything. But then he hears you humming a little tune to yourself, and his stomach turns. He can’t put you through this any longer.

Tenya clears his throat. “Can we—” he hesitates, “talk about last night?”

You stop humming, folding your hands in your lap. “Yeah, of course. And, listen, I’m sorry if—”

“Please, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” Tenya is careful to keep his eyes on the road, even as you’re nearing the city parking lot near the bar. Politely, even after he cut you off, you give him the space to speak.

“It’s no excuse, but I think you can tell I haven’t been myself lately. I’ve been stressed, and I was drunk, and I took advantage of you. I’m incredibly sorry.”

You practically dive over the center console to touch his arm, an action that shouldn’t make the back of Tenya’s neck prickle, but it does. “No, no. I promise you didn’t take advantage of me. If I had wanted to leave, I would have left.”

Tenya clears his throat, your sincerity and the warmth of your touch surprising him before, strangely, he feels some of his anxiety begin to melt away. “Ok. If you say so.” He doesn’t think about it, but while he waits to make a left turn into the parking lot, his hand floats up to brush over yours until he finds a parking spot to pull into.

He shuts off the car, but Tenya knows this isn’t over with yet. “I still need to apologize for not using protection. Do you need—”

“Oh, no. I’m on birth control, so I’m not really worried about that.”

Relieved, Tenya exhales harder than he means to.

Your nervous laugh puts him a little more at ease. “Thanks for asking, though. I also got myself tested after my last partner, so I’m clean and everything…”

Tenya can feel his face burning, but he reminds himself that it’s healthy and mature to talk to his partners about such things. Still, he rubs his eyes under his glasses, exhausted by all his worries. “Thank you. I am as well, though it’s been a long time since my last partner.”

“...Really?”

“I—yes?” He didn’t expect you to ask questions. Then you ask another.

“How long?”

Tenya hasn’t really thought about the actual number recently. He counts backwards, and it surprises him. “Two years, maybe two and a half?” He can’t remember exactly what month it was, but he’s pretty sure it was wintertime.

You fall back in your seat with a little snort. Tenya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

There’s that laugh of yours again. “Well, no wonder you’re so stressed.”

“It’s not…I’m just—” Tenya huffs, unable to complete a coherent thought. He hadn’t looked at it this way, but now that you bring it up, his fist has been a sorry comparison to another person for some time now. He’s just been willing to accept that.

Coyly, you bite your lip. “Can I ask…did you enjoy it, at least?”

“God, yes.” Tenya chuckles along with you at his own bluntness, running his hand through his hair as he looks out the windshield.

“Ok, good. Because I did too. You were so hot, Iida.”

Memories of the sights, the sounds, the sensations of your hookup come back to him in flashes, so vivid he can’t look at you. “I have to be honest with you. I don’t typically have one-night stands, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

Tenya’s heart halts, bracing for an impact that never comes, like when he thinks there’s one more step on the staircase. He expects you to be upset—sad, or angry, even—but your voice is soft instead.

“Well, listen. It’s ok if it’s not your thing. But since we both liked it, we could do it again sometime. Casually, I mean. No strings attached.”

Oh.

“So, you mean like friends with benefits?” This was an option Tenya had never even considered. Historically, casual sex is not his thing, but maybe you’re onto something.

“Yeah. Just sex. Because—and I swear—last night was one of the best hookups I’ve ever had. Like, probably top three fucks ever.”

That makes Tenya laugh out loud. It’s not that he thought he was bad at sex, quite the opposite actually. But he wouldn’t have said it that way, and coming from you…

“I’m serious, Iida,” you say after a giggle. “It was great. And I trust you. So if you want to keep having sex, especially if it helps you manage all that stress you’re under, I’m down.”

“I—”

He’s tempted to say no, to go back to just being friends and coworkers, but when he opens his mouth again, he finds he doesn’t want to. It’s one of the crazier things he’s ever done, but…

“I trust you too. But maybe we can start on some kind of trial basis. This is very new to me.”

You smile and knock him on the shoulder like this is the most normal conversation in the world. Maybe it is.

“How about this: the next time you want to let off some steam, just let me know.”

Tenya nods, then realizes he’s been wearing his seatbelt this entire time. He clicks the release button as he pulls his keys from the ignition. He can do this—he can handle casual. Maybe he’ll even be better off for it.

“Deal.”

–

Despite your new arrangement, almost a week passes without incident. Tenya continues helping Sasaki with his audits. Together, they discover a particular issue with the resistance bands that their plant has been manufacturing. Tenya spends a full day poring over the data until he comes up with better testing standards to help ensure that faulty merchandise isn’t shipped out to customers. It’s what he would have done regardless, even if the promotion weren’t on the table.

When Toshinori returns from his trip, looking more bronzed and sporting a splint on a broken index finger, Sasaki calls a meeting to go over Tenya’s proposal. A small group meets in the conference room—along with a few others from quality, there are reps from customer service who have been handling most of the complaints, and Monoma, the sales rep.

For a few months of the year, Monoma is largely out of the office, traveling to trade shows and visiting customers and distributors nationwide to tout the wonders of Plus Ultra equipment. And it’s not that he’s not good at his job—he brings in a lot of clients with a lot of money to spend. But for the rest of the year, Monoma spends his time, as far as Tenya can tell, making a couple phone calls per day before slacking off while everyone else is hard at work.

Maybe he’s biased, but Tenya has never liked sales reps.

Seated around the conference table, Sasaki starts them off by explaining the manufacturing issues they ran into. The customer service lead, Kendo, explains how the complaints came in and what her team did to placate the upset customers.

Toshinori gives Kendo a big thumbs up. “Thanks for all the hard work. It really matters that we keep our customers happy, even when things like this happen.” He’s not really a detail-oriented guy—he just likes to know what’s going on.

“Of course,” Monoma pipes up, “after customer service brought this issue to our attention, we took all of the customer information and used it to pinpoint the lot number of the defective batch of bands.”

Tenya sighs from behind his laptop. Everything Monoma is saying is correct, factually. But the way he’s using ‘we’ makes it sound like he played a bigger role in that process when all he did was email Tenya a list of customer info. It was Tenya and Sasaki who dug through the data, found the lot number, and got the rest of the defective product pulled from the warehouse before it got shipped out.

With a hand placed thoughtfully on his strong chin, Toshinori listens as Monoma talks, and talks, and talks—name dropping the bigger clients that he called personally to explain the situation. With as much patience as he can muster, Tenya waits for his turn to speak with his proposal slideshow open.

“Of course, while I was hunting all these guys down—you know how they are, they’re hardly ever in the office, a little like you, Mr. Yagi—”

“Please, I insist you call me Toshinori.”

“Right, Toshinori,” Monoma shmoozes. “Well, meanwhile, we can assure you we have a plan to keep this from happening again.” He glances over at Sasaki, who is tapping away on his keyboard, no doubt still paying attention to every word like the expert multitasker he is.

Tenya opens his mouth to speak, but Monoma’s lips don’t stop moving. “We think something like this can be caught by testing the next time it happens if we tighten up tolerances a bit. For example…”

He goes on to explain, in a roundabout way, everything in Tenya’s proposal without so much as a pause for Tenya to get a word in edgewise.

Tenya knows this meeting isn’t about him, that they’re just here to catch Toshinori up to speed and get his final stamp of approval. But especially when he’s getting some of the details only partially correct, it’s frustrating to sit there and listen to Monoma speak just because he loves the sound of his own voice.

And while Tenya is sure that Monoma is just trying to show off in front of Toshinori because of the promotion, he also doesn’t want to butt in for the same reason. At this point, it’ll just make Tenya look like he’s trying to spotlight himself. He’ll just have to keep his mouth shut, knowing that Sasaki is aware that the proposal was really all Tenya’s idea.

Sasaki, Tenya thinks almost bitterly, who is just sitting there, letting Monoma talk over him.

It’s fine, Tenya tells himself. It’s fine, and it doesn’t really matter. And he could have maybe left the meeting believing that if Monoma didn’t look him directly in the face when he asks, “Any questions?”

That bastard. That bitch. He wouldn’t normally be so vulgar, even inside his own head, but fuck, this time he’s really pissed. For as long as he’s worked here, Monoma has always been like this—stepping on toes just because he can, and unbelievably smug about it. And Tenya is officially getting sick of it.

Tenya glares back. “No,” he replies in a calculated tone. “No, I don’t think I have anything to add right now.”

If Sasaki notices his ire, he doesn’t do anything about it. Toshinori, on the other hand, appears blissfully unaware, just happy that the problem was solved even in his absence.

When the meeting ends, Tenya is the first one out of the room, his laptop folded closed under his arm. Vaguely, he hears Monoma calling for him, asking if he wants to join everyone for lunch, but he doesn’t stop until he gets to his cubicle. Nobody follows him.

For a while, Tenya just sits there, seething. He gets his lunch out of his mini-fridge, but he’s too annoyed to eat much of it. Instead, he stares daggers down into his salad, stabbing each bite he takes a little too forcefully. He tries to let it go, to forget what just happened because regardless, this should fix the manufacturing problem. That’s what matters. But Monoma’s words keep replaying on an infuriating loop in his head.

So screw that. He wants to go home. No, actually—he wants his blood pumping and his muscles straining and sweat pouring down his back until his mind finally shuts off and the frustration melts away. But he wasn’t planning on going to the gym tonight, so he doesn’t have clothes to change into for a run right now.

Tenya huffs and drops his fork on his desk. He remembers what you said in the car—to let you know the next time he’s stressed out. So he shuts his laptop and shoves his half-eaten salad back in the fridge.

Heads turn when Tenya strides into the marketing department. He doesn’t spend much time in this part of the office. Your work doesn’t overlap with his often. But he doesn’t want to leave any kind of paper trail, so instead of sending you a message, he walks straight up to your desk.

You’re flipping through files in a folder before you look up to greet him. “Hey, Iida.”

After glancing over his shoulder, he drops a heavy hand on your desk and leans down to speak into your ear, his jaw set tight. “My car. Now.”

You spin in your swivel chair to face him, eyes narrowing when you meet his gaze. Tenya raises an eyebrow, asking if you understand. Slowly, you uncross your legs, and it takes all the restraint he has not to bite a hole through his lower lip.

“Go first. I’ll meet you.”

He nods, then makes a beeline for the parking garage.

His mind races. Is this how he was supposed to go about it? For about half a minute, while he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, waiting for you to appear, he almost loses his nerve and calls the whole thing off. But goddamnit, he’s pissed, and he wants to forget, just for a few minutes until he can relax. And you look so good today, so soft to the touch in your flowy little blouse.

Now’s not the time to overthink it. He said he wanted a trial run, and here’s his chance.

You arrive with your purse thrown over your shoulder, heels clacking on the concrete floor until you slide into the seat next to him. Once your bag is placed by your feet, you ask, “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

Tenya loosens his tie. “Not really.”

“That’s ok. We can just have fun, then.”

You kick your shoes off and push the center armrest back. Tenya plants his feet on the floor, and you crawl into his lap, letting your skirt ride high up on your legs. Impatiently, craving the piece of heaven he found the last time he was with you, Tenya wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him for a kiss.

As your mouths move together, Tenya is keenly aware that you’re still, for all intents and purposes, in public. His parking spot is along the outside wall of the parking garage, one level up from the walkway that leads inside the business complex, which should minimize the amount of foot traffic that might pass. Still, the possibility that someone could walk by isn’t exactly remote. But like at the bar, Tenya is surprised to find that he’s not completely opposed to the idea—to the thrilling fantasy that you could be caught.

At least you’re not still inside the office, he rationalizes. How much real trouble could you actually get into? Office relationships aren’t forbidden. And there are worse ways to spend your lunch break—hacking accounts, stealing tape from the supply closet. Fooling around in the car isn’t hurting anyone. In fact, it actually decreases the likelihood of him personally strangling Monoma. From a certain point of view, this is actually the safer choice.

Tenya forgets all his justifications the moment you bury your hand in his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp before you pull at the longer part of his undercut. It forces him to tilt his chin up as you push deeper into the kiss. And when your mouth breaks from his and drags down to his jaw, teasing against his ear, he forgets everything except for you.

Your kisses are light against the side of his throat, careful as though not to leave a mark. They’re slow and wet, your tongue peeking out to taste him with each kiss. When you take his earlobe between your teeth, he can’t help but moan, fingers curling into your waist.

“Fuck, you sound so hot when you do that.” Your lower back arches, your knee knocking against the door as you spread yourself lower, wider over his lap. It drives him crazy, the way you move so easily with him, your body slotting into all the places he needs you most.

Tenya wants to rip your blouse open, but he restrains himself, knowing you’ll still need to wear it back inside. He fumbles with the first few buttons, trying to get it off you, before you realize he needs help. Together, you undo them all, revealing the lacy white bra you’re wearing underneath.

With all his caution thrown to the wind, Tenya palms one of your breasts, pressing it up against his mouth as he kisses your cleavage. You hum for him, reaching behind you to brace yourself against his knee with your other arm slung over his shoulder.

Your breasts feel amazing. He didn’t really get to play with them last time—he was too busy holding you up against the wall. Now, he can knead them with both hands, lifting them up and pressing his thumbs between them until they pop out of the cups of your bra.

Your gasp is delectable when he takes one nipple into his mouth, groaning as he sucks around it. He opens his mouth wider, desperate to take more, tongue lapping at the bud. He can’t get enough.

Meanwhile, he tenderly squeezes your other breast, obsessed with the way it squishes like he’s pressing into soft dough. He looks up at you over his glasses, watching your brows knit together as he drinks you in. Then he does the same to your other breast, giving them equal attention.

Tenya can feel your pulse quickening through your sternum, syllables of his name falling from your lips along with panting breaths. You sound so good, he loves hearing you. “Tell me what you want,” he mumbles, unbuttoning his vest and then starting on his dress shirt.

Your hand drifts down to touch his exposed chest.

“You, I want you.” Your hips grind down against his straining erection as you whine for him.

Tenya sucks air through his teeth, grabbing for his wallet in the cupholder and pulling out the condom he’s had tucked inside for a few days. He holds the corner of the packet between his teeth while he pulls his cock out of the dark blue slacks he pushes down to his knees. You moan when you see it, giving him a flash of pride before you take the condom and roll it on for him.

“You’re so big.” He’s known that for a long time—that his size is impressive to most—but he loves hearing it, the way it tumbles from your lips like you can’t believe it’s all for you.

He sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before pushing your panties to the side and rubbing them over your cunt. Your head falls back, breasts bouncing while he plays with your hole, spreading spit and slick around it.

With both hands on his shoulders, you position yourself above him. “Fuck, fuck me.”

If you keep begging like that, he’s going to lose his damn mind.

Tenya holds his cock steady at the base while you sink down onto him with a gorgeous whine. He watches himself enter you, watches as you take his thick cock like you’re made for it. The ridge of the condom catches the slick that leaks out of you, leaving a creamy ring behind when you start to bounce up and down on your knees.

Tenya guides you, lifting his hips when he can to thrust with you. It feels too good—suddenly, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“God, so tight. Oh my god.” You clench when he calls your name, his voice strangled like your hand’s around his throat. Huffing and moaning, he holds you up while you ride him with impressive stamina.

Sweat beads on your forehead and your chest, collecting in the notch of your throat. You’re persistent, your movements actually speeding up while your walls cling to his cock with every thrust. You’re like an animal, blindly chasing your own pleasure while still giving him so much.

He can tell when you finish by the way you gasp and squeal, writhing like you’re trying to stay sunk down on top of him while you pulse. Watching your body tremor pulls Tenya over the edge with you, his hips lifting as he climaxes before falling back onto the headrest. You fold over against his chest, just trying to catch your breath as you come down.

The driver’s side window is foggy, your naked upper body slippery against him. He’s still inside you, your face buried in his neck. You rest the weight of your tired body against him fully, even as he sits up to start up the air conditioning so you can both cool down. Once the sheen of sweat between you is mostly dry, Tenya reclines his seat all the way back and helps you climb out of his lap.

Last time, all you needed to do was get yourselves together enough to sneak out of the bar and get home. Now, Tenya realizes, he has to walk back into the office as if he didn’t just fuck you in his car. Granted, the condom was a good idea—it takes care of a large percentage of the mess you made, but he’s still sweaty and disheveled after disposing of it wrapped in a wad of napkins from the glove compartment.

You give each other a good once-over outside the car, making sure all buttons are done up right and everything’s tucked back where it’s supposed to be. He lets you fix his hair for him, shaking out his bangs with your fingers before fixing them back in place across his forehead. He intends to walk you back inside, but you stop him just outside the glass walkway with a glance over your shoulder.

“Give me a little head start,” you tease. Your giggle is equal parts adorable and sensual as you strut away.

Tenya stares after you, your legs, your tight skirt, until you disappear through the double doors at the end of the corridor.

He can give you a head start. He’d give you just about anything you want at this point.

–

From that day on, hooking up with you becomes more and more frequent. Tenya tries not to wear out his welcome too quickly, but the more he has sex with you, the more he craves it. Once per week quickly becomes three or four times, sometimes in the car, sometimes in whatever empty room or closet you can find when the opportunity arises. You let him do so many different things to you, content to let him take the lead and call the shots.

It’s almost Pavlovian, the way he finds himself set on the path from his desk to yours after a stressful meeting or phone call—even just too many hours looking at spreadsheets can make him itch for you.

As much as he loves your legs wrapped around his waist while he plunges inside you, Tenya learns he has much more of an oral fixation than he ever realized. When he’s frustrated, he needs his mouth on you. He’ll eat you out or suck at your breasts while you bounce in his lap, and before he knows it, he’s forgotten whatever it was that was causing so much tension in the first place, soothed by the weight of you on his tongue.

There aren’t many rules in your arrangement, but after the third or fourth time you turn down Tenya’s offers to cook you dinner, you set an important one.

“I really appreciate the thought, but in the interest of keeping this casual, let’s not hook up at your house or mine.”

“It’s just dinner,” Tenya reasons. “I would never expect you to sleep with me in return. We wouldn’t have to.”

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know myself, and it would be hard for me to be in your house with you, alone at night, and not want to have sex with you.”

“I…” Tenya rubs at the back of his undercut. He should probably get it trimmed soon. “I’m not pressuring you, but why—”

“Because if I start waking up in your bed, it’s only a matter of time before one of us catches feelings. And you said you didn’t want that, right?”

Tenya hesitates for half a beat, but, “Yes, you’re right.”

“So no sleepovers. But thank you again for offering, Tenya.”

“Of course.”

The other rules remain largely unspoken. You always wait for him to initiate, and at first, this concerned him. If you weren’t interested in doing this—if you’d changed your mind—he needed to know, and he told you as much. He’d been surprised at the heat that pooled in his stomach when you laughed and replied, sincerely, that you liked it that way. That you liked when he took you, ravished you. That it turned you on to be used that way. It was as much for you as it was for him.

Tenya would never forget the salacious grin on your painted lips when you told him so. It made you that much more attractive, this insane sex drive you seemed to have. A few weeks ago, he never would have thought that you were so insatiable. How wrong he’d been.

As time goes on, however, you start finding ways to tease him, daring him to make the first move.

It’s been nearly two months when Tenya notices you dressing differently. Your skirts get tighter, and you never swap them out for dress pants, even when September begins to cool off the sweltering summer heat. You almost always opt for blouses with buttons or in fabrics that stretch—the easier to take off and put on, the better.

You also start to have a little more fun with your accessories, including your underwear. Every once in a while, Tenya will mumble a little comment about them—”these new?” or “haven’t seen this one before”—and he can tell by your smile that you love it.

One afternoon, Sasaki calls a meeting about a new product launch, and Tenya finds himself seated next to you at the conference table. With close to a dozen people in the room, it’s easy to watch you, unnoticed, even when he should be focusing on the presentation. Instead, Tenya’s eyes drift up and down your legs, counting the beats as you bounce one knee over the other.

You push your chair back from the table, hands crossed in your lap as you appear to listen about the wonders of kettlebell gloves. Maybe you are listening—you’re a decent multitasker—but Tenya is positive you know what you’re doing to him when you slide one foot out of your little black pumps. By curling your toes, you tap your shoe against your heel, and it should not be sexy, should not be turning Tenya on, but it does. Your bare ankle looks so delicate as your shoe dangles from your toe, reminding him of how quickly you could be undressed.

The meeting can’t end soon enough.

As soon as he can get you alone, Tenya is crowding you against the copier. He runs his hands over your hips, riding over your curves. “Have you always dressed like this for attention? Or is it just for me?”

You push your ass back against him. “What’s gotten into you?” you giggle, acting as if you don’t know.

“Supply closet?” he asks in response. If it were anyone else, he’d be self conscious about being too direct. But it’s you, and he’s learning not to think twice.

It’s nearly 4pm—some people have even gone home by this point. There’s no one around to see you dragging him by the tie into the closet and shutting the door behind you.

Tenya drops to his knees, kissing your thighs as you turn on the overhead light. His nose teases at the hem of your skirt, pushing it up as his hands slide up the backs of your legs. “Someone might see the light under the door,” he mumbles, almost whispering.

You hum appreciatively. “I think you’re going to wanna see these.”

“See what?”

Leaning back against the built in shelf, you push your hips forward. “Keep going.”

Clammy palms push your skirt up over your hips. Tenya continues his ascent up your inner thigh, pushing your legs further apart to make room. He finds his surprise at the apex.

Your red lace panties have no crotch. Instead, draped over the middle, is a string of faux pearls. They’re beautiful, nestled against your folds, and they’re already wet.

As he stares in awe, Tenya stupidly comments, “Those can’t be comfortable to sit around in.”

You stifle a laugh. “They’re not as bad as you’d think.” You lift one foot out of your shoe and place it on his shoulder, lewdly spreading yourself for him. “Wanna taste ‘em?”

Tenya turns his head, kissing the ball of your ankle before pulling your leg down over his shoulder. “Dying to.”

His mouth slots between your thighs—trembling, if he’s not mistaken—with a warm sigh of relief. After leaving wet kisses over your clothed clit, Tenya tilts his head back and lets his tongue jut out, licking a stripe over the pearls. The little beads taste like plastic and you, like treasures for him to find and retrieve, soaked in your essence. He works at them with his tongue, playing with them until he loses his grip and then starts all over again, slurping you up as he goes.

Your hips buck when he hits a sensitive spot, when he pushes the pearls deeper into your folds with his tongue. He feels you twitch when he nudges one almost inside your hole before sucking as much of you into his mouth at once as he can. You hum on a moan, trying to keep quiet, fingers twisted tight in his hair.

Tenya comes up panting, his face covered in you. “Do you want to come like this?”

With your back pressed up against a shelf of printer paper, you bite your lip hard and nod yes.

Tenya pulls you down firmly on his shoulder, getting you right where he wants you, before pushing two fingers up inside your panties to tweak at your clit. He rolls the little bud between his thumb and forefinger, licking against your slit where the pearls are held taut until he hears you squeak and feels the little gush against his face.

While you shiver in the aftershocks, Tenya licks his lips then wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand. Carefully, he pulls you off his shoulder and stands up, undoing his belt on the way. His heartbeat pounds in his throat while he struggles with the condom. Once it’s on, he slips inside you, one of your thighs held to his hip, the string of pearls brushing his cock with every thrust until he comes undone.

Then, like every time, you clean yourselves up and walk away like nothing ever happened, and Tenya’s heart breaks a little more.

After months of wallowing, Midoriya finally starts to act like himself again. He joins Tenya at the gym more often and even comes jogging in the morning a few times. Some evenings, Tenya cooks dinner for both of them, knowing his friend is hopeless in the kitchen and has more or less been surviving off of Cup Noodles since mid-summer. Tenya doesn’t mind it—he likes to cook, and it’s nice to have the company a few nights per week.

Tonight, after they finish the salmon he made, he’s standing on a stool in his bedroom while Midoriya measures the inseam of his tux pants for Todoroki’s wedding. Tenya had to order his a size up to make room for his thick thighs, and he needs them tailored.

“Are you going to ask her to be your date?” Midoriya asks just as he presses his tape measure to Tenya’s crotch. He doesn’t have to clarify who he means.

“No.” Tenya focuses intently on not getting hard at the thought of you. It’s pathetic that a simple thought or mention of you is sometimes all it takes, but he cannot embarrass himself with Midoriya between his legs right now.

“I told you, it’s only casual. We’re not together, and besides, they already invited her anyway.”

Midoriya shrugs. “But you like her, don’t you?”

“I… It’s purely physical.” He hasn’t shared every dirty detail with Midoriya, but since he’s never met you, Tenya felt safe telling him about your arrangement.

“So how are you going to feel if she shows up with somebody else?”

“She’s not—”

Midoriya grabs a few pins from the cushion around his wrist, holding them in his mouth while he crouches to pin Tenya’s hem. “But are you sure?”

Now that Tenya thinks about it, he’s not. Just because he hasn’t been seeing anyone else, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t be.

“All I’m saying,” Midoriya mumbles around his pins, “is that you shouldn’t wait around too long if you want something more.”

Tenya has to admit that he might have a point. Maybe he’s not cut out for casual after all, despite how good it’s been so far. He spends more time thinking about you than he cares to admit—and it’s not always sexual. He wishes he could spend more time with you outside of work too.

Sometimes, during his morning runs, he imagines what it would be like if you were beside him. But he doesn’t even know if you like jogging.

He doesn’t want to talk about it right now.

“Wow, Midoriya. That really means a lot, coming from you. And you’re aware that Bakugou will more than likely be there with Uraraka?”

Midoriya snorts. “God, I hope Todoroki doesn’t seat me with them. But regardless, I’m still going stag to the wedding. I don’t even know anyone to ask. Now hold still so I can get the other leg even,” he says, reaching for his measuring tape again.

While Midoriya finishes pinning, Tenya considers all his options. He was planning on attending the wedding without a date—he figured he’d just see you, Midoriya, and everyone else from work there. He supposes he could ask you to be his date as a friend, but what would be the point?

To make sure you’re not going with someone else, he guesses.

With the wedding only a few weeks away, he’s going to need to figure out what to do about it—if anything—and soon. Maybe he can bring it up casually in conversation, but he’s not sure he has the nerve. Between finding out you’re going with someone else or asking you out himself, Tenya’s not sure which one he’s more afraid of.

This doesn’t count, Tenya tells himself. When Sero shows up at the end of the workday, off early from the tattoo shop, and invites everyone to join him and Todoroki for dinner, it doesn’t count as having dinner with you. There’s nothing in the rules about going out in a group together.

Careful to keep himself in check, Tenya only has two beers with his burger. It may have worked out in his favor last time, but he doesn’t plan on getting wasted this time. You seat yourself easily by his side, your arm brushing his as you finish off a cocktail with your dinner.

For the first time, Tenya really wonders if anyone else around the table can tell that there’s something else going on between the two of you. He’s usually as careful as he can be, trying not to show you any special attention. But even just sitting next to you, listening to you talk and laugh with your friends, is distracting.

Then, while you’re laughing at something Denki says, your hand falls to Tenya’s knee. It seems like you don’t even notice that you’re doing it, the gesture warm and familiar, like you’d done it a thousand times. Tenya’s neck gets hot, and he can’t think about anything but the weight of your hand on his leg.

“Iida.”

Tenya jumps when Sero calls his name, and you pull your hand away, jolted back to reality. “Hm?” He hasn’t been listening at all.

“I asked if they’ve given you that promotion yet. I wanna know when you’re gonna be Shouto’s boss so I can tease him about it.” Sero’s arm is wrapped around Todoroki’s shoulders, his signature grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. Todoroki hardly reacts except to blow a strand of hair out of his face.

Tenya clears his throat. “They haven’t mentioned it in a while. Toshinori is hardly in the office, so I suspect that’s slowing down the process.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Denki leans forward so he can catch Tenya’s eye over the table. “I was sorting the mail and I heard Sasaki talking to David Shield from R&D. They were going over some financial mumbo jumbo and I heard him say they need to make some hiring decisions this month before they can approve his research budget for next year.”

This time, when you squeeze Tenya’s arm, you don’t try to hide it. You have a good reason not to. “So you’ll know this month whether you’re moving up or not. That’s exciting!”

Although he’s been fucking you for months, Tenya still blushes at your touch, especially while his friends are looking. This is what you do to him. He mutters, “Thank you. I’ll just be glad when this whole thing is over and I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Your hand falls away from him as you reply. “Yeah, that makes sense.” Something in your voice changes—you sound almost disappointed, giving Tenya a pang in the heart.

“There’s no way they’ll choose Monoma,” says Todoroki. “He’s a dickhead.”

Sero gulps down the rest of his drink, his forehead creasing with a frown. “Is this that guy who stole your yogurt out of the fridge?”

“I can’t prove it, but I think so.”

“If I ever get my hands on him…”

“You guys wanna hear something crazy?” Denki chimes in. “I put red pepper flakes in my leftover takeout to see who’s been stealing it from the fridge, and at lunch, I caught Shinsou coughing and buying a milk from the vending machine. I trusted him!”

While Denki retells the loss of his chance with Shinsou that may have opened another door with Jirou, Tenya’s attention falls back to you. You’ve gone quiet, which is strange, considering how excited you were. Did his reaction upset you? Was it not what you were looking for? He can’t quite discern what he’s done wrong, but he felt the twinge of sadness when you pulled away from him.

He lets himself look at you—really look at you—while you pointedly look away. He’s dying to get you away from this table, to somewhere you can talk, but he can’t think of an excuse. So instead, while nobody is paying attention, he reaches for the strap of your dress, which has fallen down your shoulder. He lets his knuckles trail against your arm as he pushes it back into place.

“Please,” he whispers, so only you can hear. “Come home with me.”

He doesn’t expect you to agree. He prepares himself for you to reject his invitation, like you always do. But your eyes shine when you look up at him. “Ok.”

When the bills are paid and the table is cleared, you climb into Tenya’s car. It’s dark outside, and it’s just started to rain. Music plays softly from the speakers because he knows you dread silence. Tenya nestles his hand in your lap while he drives, letting you play with his fingers to distract yourself.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No…. I don’t know.”

He’s never seen you like this, the light that usually bursts from inside of you practically extinguished. He knows he can’t take what you say at face value right now.

He doesn’t want to be pushy, but he tries a different question. “Did I do something that upset you?”

Over the pattering of the rain on the windows, he hears you sniffle, and that’s when Tenya realizes that you’re crying.

“I just need a minute to think.”

“Ok.” Tenya turns up the music a few notches, hoping it gives you the illusion of space and privacy behind the sound. That, and unless it gets any worse, he really doesn’t want to hear you cry because it breaks his heart.

You wipe your eyes, pulling yourself together as he parks in his driveway. Craning your neck, you look out the rain-streaked window. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” Tenya turns the radio down again, but leaves it softly playing an old rock ballad he’s probably heard a thousand times before. “Do you still want to come in? I’ll make you a cup of tea. Or if you’ve changed your mind, I can drive you home or call you a ride. Whatever you want.”

When you turn back to him, you’re wearing a ghost of your usual smile. “You’re too good to me, Iida. Always putting me first.”

Tenya fiddles with his tie, pulling the knot a little looser around his throat. “Of course.” It’s all he can think to say. Is it not obvious?

You unbuckle your seatbelt, his heart clenching at the sound. “A cup of tea would be lovely.”

The rain has started to pick up, so you follow him up to his stoop with your coat held over your head. As Tenya unlocks the door, he decides that if you’re not ready to talk about what’s bothering you, he’s not going to push it anymore. If you just want to be comforted and taken care of, then that’s what he’ll do. In a way, it’s exactly what you’ve been doing for him over the past few months, in more ways than you even know about.

He lets you inside, taking your coat and flipping on a light while you kick off your ankle boots, revealing a pair of brightly-colored socks with what looks like turtles on them. Normally, he’d make a comment, tell you how cute he thinks they are. Maybe later he’ll get the chance.

The next thing Tenya does is fill and turn on the electric kettle. Then he sets you down at the kitchen island while he fixes you a plate of mini scones and goes over the tea choices. “Decaf?” He can’t imagine you’d want caffeine at this hour, but maybe you want a pick-me-up.

“Yes, please. Do you have something herbal?”

Tenya hums as the kettle starts to bubble. “Orange, lavender, or white jasmine?”

“Oh, the orange.”

Tenya grabs two teabags.

“And honey?”

He grabs the honey.

His back is to you as he fixes two matching mugs—thick, blue ceramic that he picked out when he got his first place of his own. The kettle is almost ready, so while he waits, he undoes his tie completely, letting it drape over his shoulders. He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, then rolls up his sleeves. Though Tenya genuinely just likes to be dressed comfortably at home, he wouldn’t be upset if you happen to be watching him.

When the kettle is ready, he prepares a tea for each of you, then turns to add the honey in front of you so you can say when. You wrap both your hands around the mug like it’s made of solid gold. Immediately, you take a sip.

“Ow.” You click your tongue against your teeth.

“You never let it cool,” Tenya mentions, slowly stirring his honey into his steaming cup.

“So you’ve noticed?” This makes you smile, so Tenya keeps going.

“I’ve noticed a lot of things about you.”

“Like how many different bras I own?” you chuckle.

Tenya snorts, then runs a hand through his hair. “Well, yeah. But also stuff like how you like your tea and what music you listen to. Where you have scars and marks on your body. That kind of thing.”

A long, not-uncomfortable silence falls over the kitchen as you both enjoy your tea, Tenya leaning against the island opposite you.

You wring out your teabag against the side of your mug with your spoon, then place both on the saucer Tenya set out between you. Then you clear your throat. “At the bar…”

Tenya sets his own mug down and listens.

You sigh. “It’s kind of stupid, in hindsight. But I’m worried that when you get the promotion, you’ll be all set in life. And you won’t need me anymore.” Your voice wavers on the last syllable, and you cough into your shoulder to cover it up. Your eyes are glassy again.

Tenya doesn’t hesitate, barely thinks before pressing his hand to your cheek, softly bringing your gaze to meet his. “I guarantee that if I get the promotion, I’ll be as stressed as ever. Maybe even more—just look at Sasaki. I’ll be in his shoes.” Tenya chuckles in spite of himself.

“Regardless, I wouldn’t want to stop seeing you, if that were the case. I’d actually like to see you more, if you want that.” Tenya rubs his thumb over your cheek. “Unless you’re ready to be done with me, and whatever this thing is.”

“No.” You reply in a thick, watery whisper. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes. “But I think I fucked up. I think I have real feelings for you.”

Tenya brings his other hand to your face. “Oh, thank god,” he mumbles into a kiss.

Your mugs of tea are quickly forgotten. You kiss him back across the kitchen island, covering his hands with your own. Tenya can’t stop because he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to kiss you like this, with the full weight of how he feels about you.

When you finally pull back, you’re biting your lip. “Is it too much if I ask you to take me to your bedroom?”

Tenya does you one better and carries you there in his arms.

You giggle when he lays you down on his pristinely made bed, your blouse riding up over your stomach. Tenya is blindsided by how beautiful you look like this, rumpled and laughing. He’s never fucked you lying down before, and suddenly, it all feels that much more intimate.

He doesn’t have much time to think about it before you pull him down on top of you by his shirt. Tenya settles himself between your legs, bent over the foot of the bed. You undress each other between passionate kisses, baring yourselves to each other from this entirely new angle.

Tenya trails kisses down your body until he’s crouched on the floor, tongue pressed against your pussy with a heat he’s never felt before. He devours you, groaning while you writhe against him, reaching down to pull his hair when you want him to hit a different spot. He lets you direct him wherever you like, alternating between licking over your hole and sucking your clit until you cream on the two fingers he has buried inside you.

Half-drunk on you, Tenya climbs back on top. With your legs around his waist, you beg him to fuck you, to fill you up with everything he has. He doesn’t have a condom nearby, but you plead with him anyway, telling him that tonight, he doesn’t need one. For the first time since the first time, he slicks himself up with you and slides in raw, moaning your name as the plush of your walls sucks him in deep.

When his glasses slide down his nose from the sweat beading on his face, Tenya tosses them vaguely toward the night stand. As he moves inside you, he drops his forehead to rest against yours. Even with his eyes closed in ecstasy, he listens for every desperate sound you make and feels every clench of your muscles around him.

He feels like there’s so much he wants to tell you, so much he wants to ask you, but it feels so good inside you that he can only babble. Your breaths are hot and fast against his mouth as he lets the words spill out. “So good, so fucking perfect. Good girl, you fuck me so well.”

He lets you push against his chest and roll him over. He holds your middle while you ride him to your climax, the extra wetness and the vice-like squeeze pulling him over the edge with you. Your body locks up over his as he fills you with everything he has, coating your insides until it starts to leak out into his lap.

Tenya’s chest pounds, breath quickening until he comes down and you collapse at his side, a hand splayed over his sweaty chest. He holds you, memorizing the shape and weight of you beside him until you get up to shower off together, and then he holds you for the rest of the night too.

–

Tenya never thought he would see you like this: in his bed, under his sheets, asleep with your head on his pillow. He hates to wake you up and disturb you, but if you want to go home for a change of clothes before work, he probably needs to drive you there soon. Lightly, he nudges your shoulder until your lashes flutter.

“Morning,” he says softly.

You roll over onto your back, groaning a little bit as you stretch. “Good morning,” you mumble.

“Sleep ok?” Tenya slides out of bed, reaching to his bedside table before he realizes his glasses aren’t there. He’s about to get down and look under the bed for them when your hand finds his back. He lays back down.

“Pretty well, yeah.” You take your time looking him over, touching his arm, studying his face fondly.

After a while, he asks, “Do you want me to take you home before work?”

You snuggle deeper into your pillow. “Nah, I’ll just borrow one of your shirts.”

“You’re already wearing one of my shirts,” he smirks, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. He’d let you dig through his pajama drawer before bed, and you’d chosen the biggest t-shirt you could find.

“Then I’ll borrow another one.” You giggle a bit, before your smile fades. “If that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok.”

You sit halfway up, swallowing a deep breath, and a knot forms in Tenya’s stomach.

“I just want to make sure we’re absolutely clear,” you explain, twisting the bedsheets in your fists. “I have feelings for you. Is that something you want to pursue now? Because I don’t think I can stay casual with you anymore, unless it’s just as friends.”

Tenya exhales. He sits up too, taking you hand in his own so you let the sheets fall away. Even without his glasses on, he sees you in perfect focus, his memory making up for what his vision lacks. “I should have known from the beginning that I couldn’t ‘keep it casual.’ Especially not with you.”

You blush, and it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. You try to look away, but he doesn’t want you to hide from him. Lightly, he lifts your chin with a curled finger and pecks you on the lips.

“Would you like to date me?”

You burst into a fit of happy giggles. “Yes. Please.”

Tenya smiles so big it almost hurts. “Ok. It’s a deal.”

You kiss him again before swatting at his chest. “You fell for me?” you tease.”

“Completely,” Tenya admits with one more kiss.

Eventually, he’s able to get you out of bed, and he finds his glasses, haphazardly tossed aside the night before, all the way across the room, behind his hamper. He’s not even sure how he managed that. He leaves you to get ready while he goes downstairs to start his coffee pot and stick a few eggs in the hard boiler. You don’t have a ton of time to get to work, but he can order you some breakfast once you get there if you want.

With two travel mugs filled and ready to go, he heads back upstairs to finish getting dressed. He finds you in the ensuite, leaning forward over the counter to pin up your hair. You’re wearing one of his dress shirts tucked into your skirt and an oversized sweater vest over top. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it all look so purposeful.

He has a passing thought about taking you over the counter, pushing your skirt up and fucking you from behind, but you’re verging on being late to work already. Besides, he remembers. The two of you have all the time in the world now.

Instead, he gives you a kiss on the cheek, tells you that you look beautiful, and within minutes, you’re out the door.

When he pulls his car into the parking garage, something occurs to him. “What are we going to tell people?”

“About us?”

“Yes,” Tenya chuckles. Apparently, it hadn’t occurred to you yet either, but with this relationship, he was starting to expect to figure things out as you go. “Do you want to tell people about us?”

“Yes,” you answer confidently. “But maybe we can just say that we’ve been getting closer as friends… if anyone asks.”

“Good idea.”

That’s how the two of you end up walking into the building, hand in hand instead of one after the other. It’s also why Kaminari stands up at his desk screaming, “I knew it!” before the front door has even closed behind you.

Tenya probably should have expected the news would shake up the office a bit. Everything is about to change, but to his own surprise, he isn’t afraid in the slightest. He just holds your hand a little tighter, and he feels ok.

While you’re busy talking Kaminari down when Sasaki appears from around the corner. “Iida, do you have a minute?”

Tenya’s stomach drops. Everything positive he was feeling is instantly replaced with nausea. He’s sure his face turns pale as he wonders what this is about. The promotion? Probably. But what if he’s in trouble? What if someone caught the two of you hooking up and he’s about to be reprimanded or worse?

Trying his best not to jump to any more dire conclusions, Tenya swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “Sure.” He gives your hand one more squeeze before following Sasaki to his office.

Despite his nerves about the conversation ahead, Tenya finds Sasaki’s office as calming as usual. It’s plainly furnished with a desk, chairs, and a few filing cabinets, and a bookcase stuffed with comics, all of which are kept immaculately neat. The only items on the desk are Sasaki’s computer and a set of wax seals.

On a shelf by the windows sits a tabletop fountain next to an oil diffuser, the calming scent of eucalyptus wafting across the room—Tenya has always assumed Sasaki keeps these around to help with stress. One wall is decorated with posters from national parks, and across from it hangs the company’s yearly branded calendar next to a framed motivational print of a kitten clinging to a tree branch.

None of this is unsettling except for the old cardboard cutout of Toshinori, made years ago for an advertising campaign, standing in the corner staring out eerily from behind the man himself, who is seated next to Sasaki’s desk.

Toshinori stands and shakes Tenya’s hand. “Great to see you, Iida. I’ve been so busy, I feel like it’s been months!”

In truth, it has been a couple weeks, not that Tenya would mention it. “How’s your finger healing up?” Tenya asks, taking a seat. The last time he saw Toshinori, he was still wearing a splint.

“Fine, it’s all fine. I do have a sprained arch from wakeboarding, but it’s nothing that some good shoes and a few days of rest won’t fix.” Toshinori is always injuring himself, it seems. Nonetheless, he remains endlessly positive, making it impossible for Tenya to tell if he’s in trouble or not.

Sasaki takes a seat as well and pulls some papers out of his desk drawer. “Well, now that Toshinori has a bum foot and I have him captive in the office for the week, we were finally able to discuss some things.”

Sasaki taps the edges of the paperwork on his desk, but before Tenya can even say a prayer that they’re not severance papers, Toshinori blurts out, “We’re promoting you to Quality Manager! What do you think?”

Sasaki sighs. “As in, do you accept the position?”

“And all the perks, of course,” Toshinori says, nudging his elbow into Tenya’s side.

Truthfully, Tenya is so relieved he could almost cry, so it takes him a few minutes to find the words to respond. After flapping his lips a few times, Tenya enthusiastically accepts. “Yes, yes I would love to. I’d be honored.” Reflexively, he reaches out to shake Toshinori’s hand again, which makes his boss laugh as he accepts.

“You’ve been nothing but an asset to the company for years, Young Iida. You deserve it more than anyone.”

Sasaki tries to hand Tenya the stack of forms and contracts to sign, but Tenya slides in a handshake before Sasaki can dodge it. Sasaki chuckles under his breath. “I hope you haven’t been driving yourself crazy worrying about this. You were easily our first choice.”

Tenya clears his throat, accepting the contracts and a pen to sign them with. The salary increase listed at the top of the page is nothing to balk at, and he’s even more thankful than he was a minute ago.

“To tell you the truth, I thought maybe you’d go with someone else.”

“Who?” Sasaki asks.

“Monoma, maybe,” Tenya mumbles.

Toshinori bursts out laughing, the volume practically rattling the walls. “Monoma is a fine salesman, but truthfully, it was only because the investor board wanted us to present a few candidates before making the offer. He was more of a back-up.”

“Monoma is a prick,” Sasaki adds bluntly. “I would have only promoted Todoroki if you declined, Iida. You’ll be at liberty to choose your own assistant manager once all this is finalized, but I highly recommend you choose him. He’s got a level head on his shoulders.”

“You’re right about that.” Tenya would love nothing more than to bring Todoroki up the corporate ladder with him, so to speak, but he’ll have to see if he’s even interested first. Maybe he can enlist you and Hanta to help him encourage Todoroki to step up. If nothing else, he’s positive Todoroki would love his own office instead of a cubicle.

After he reads over the rest of the documents and signs his name on the dotted line, Sasaki takes Tenya to his new office, an actual corner office that was vacated a few months ago when Aizawa started working from home while taking care of his adopted daughter. It’s all so corporate, and feels almost too much for a middle manager, but Tenya has to admit, the view is much nicer than the temporary walls of his cubicle.

And so is the privacy, he realizes, when you slide in shortly after Sasaki leaves, locking the door behind you.

“Congrats, Mr. Manager.” You throw your arms around his neck, craning your neck back for a kiss. With his hands pressed to the small of your back, Tenya pulls you in for one.

“Thank you. So you heard already?”

You slip teasingly out of his grasp, wandering over to peer out the floor to ceiling windows framing the corner of the room. “Of course. You’re the talk of the office today, you know.”

“Is that so?” Tenya slides up behind you, unable to keep his hands away from your hips, pulling you back against him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, marveling again at the view of the city outside. “And is that your fault?”

“No, Denki was listening at Sasaki’s door the whole time. He’s the one who told everybody.”

Tenya kisses the side of your neck. You don’t smell like your normal perfume. You smell like his shirt, his toothpaste, his home. “Of course.”

You giggle. “And you know what else they’re saying?”

“What’s that?”

“That you’re dating the girl from marketing.”

Tenya kisses your neck again, farther down, pushing your collar aside to get closer to your shoulder. “I’m flattered that people think I could deserve her.”

You turn in his arms, already unbuttoning your top. You take a step back, leaning your ass against his new desk. “Imagine if they knew what’s been happening right under their noses.”

Tenya loosens his tie. He’s on top of the world right now, with nothing to stop him from taking advantage of his new private office. Breaking the facade, he presses himself against you again and asks earnestly, “Does this make me your boyfriend?”

He lifts you up just enough to help you sit on his desk. You grin, somehow warm and salacious all at once. Taking his face in your hands, you pull him closer still. “Yes, sir,” you reply before sealing your lips over his.

Todoroki and Sero could not have chosen a more perfect day for their wedding. It’s unseasonably warm for mid-autumn, the sun peeking through the branches of the half-barren trees. For a day when he needs to stand outdoors in a tux and not sweat through his jacket, Tenya could not be more thankful.

Although it’s almost time to head to the venue, Tenya stops in front of the bathroom mirror to ensure that not a hair on his head is out of place. He knows how much it means to Todoroki that today goes smoothly, and even though Tenya isn’t the best man, he’s taken it upon himself to coordinate some of the finer details of the day, as far as the wedding party goes. He’s texted Natsuo multiple times to make sure he has the rings, made sure that Midoriya is on standby for any last minute outfit repairs, and reminded Inasa at the rehearsal dinner that he is not permitted to start drinking until after the ceremony.

Just as Tenya is starting to feel a stress knot forming between his shoulder blades, your heels come clopping against the tile floor of the bathroom. You reach in and grab your lipstick off the bathroom counter, tucking it away in your comically small clutch purse. In the same motion, you teasingly pat his ass with your hand.

“You look so handsome. I love your hair slicked back like that.” Even after everything, it still makes Tenya feel fluttery inside when you flirt with him so shamelessly.

He trails the back of his hand down your arm, admiring the way the sleeve of your dress flutters over your skin. “Thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Good thing there’s no bride to upstage.”

Chuckling, Tenya subconsciously leans in to kiss you. You slap your purse against his chest to stop him. “Baby, my lipstick,” you giggle.

“Good catch.” There’s no time for whatever cleanup that might entail.

From the moment the two of you hop into Tenya’s car, the next few hours pass in a blur. The ceremony is being held outside at Enji’s country club. Cocktail hour will be inside the rustic lodge, and dinner and dancing afterwards in an elaborate tent on the edge of the golf course. Though it looks lovely on you, your lipstick again prevents Tenya from kissing you before you part ways. Instead, he presses a kiss to your hand before you go to meet Kaminari in the lodge for a drink.

Garment bag in hand, Tenya is then whisked away by the wedding coordinator to a dressing room on the lower floor of the lodge. Midoriya is already there, crouched on the floor, pressing the creases in Todoroki’s white tux pants with his portable steamer. The groom himself is sitting on a barstool in a silk robe and his boxers, talking to his brothers. Touya isn’t even technically in the wedding party, but Tenya thinks it’s nice that Shouto invited him to hang out before the ceremony anyway. Inasa and Tokoyami, Todoroki’s college friends, should be joining shortly.

Normally, Tenya would ask Todoroki how he’s feeling, but he’s wary of stirring up any potential trouble. Instead, he says, “That’s a nice robe.”

“Gift from Hanta,” Todoroki says, smiling. “It came in a set. I think mostly he just wanted to wear the matching one.” Natsuo snorts out a laugh before covering his mouth with his hand, but Shouto doesn’t even seem to notice. In fact, he’s smiling more than usual, with an easy confidence that Tenya was definitely not expecting.

“You seem… relaxed.” Tenya can’t help but state the obvious. It’s been months since he’s seen Todoroki so calm and laid-back.

“Yeah, Todoroki,” Midoriya comments. “Aren’t you nervous?”

Tenya would smack Midoriya in the back of the head if he were standing close enough, but Todoroki keeps smiling, unflappable. He simply glances down at his hands, rubbing his left ring finger.

“I would be. But just between us, Hanta and I are actually already married.”

Tenya’s jaw drops to the floor. Midoriya screeches sharply in surprise.

Natsuo blinks. “You’re what?”

“Don’t tell dad. Or mom or Fuyumi, either,” Todoroki says. “But yeah, we were talking about how stressed we were, how I was so wrapped up in planning and Han was avoiding it. So we decided to book an appointment at city hall, just for us.”

“Well, shit.” Touya clicks his tongue, grinning.

“Well, congratulations!” Tenya sputters, equal parts proud and flabbergasted.

Once everyone is present and dressed, the next few hours are spent taking photos while trying to avoid Sero, who is getting ready with his own bridal party on-location. “Hanta’s old-fashioned,” Todoroki explains at one point. “He didn’t want to see me before the ceremony.”

It’s a sweet notion, and it’s completely worth it, Tenya decides, as he watches the pure joy on his friends’ faces when they finally see each other. With the bridal party already lined up, Todoroki and Sero exit from opposite sides of the lodge and meet at the end of the aisle. Todoroki grins so hard it looks like his cheeks might burst while Sero smiles brightly with all his teeth, an eyebrow raised as if to ask, “Are you ready for this?”

From there, the two join hands and walk to the altar together. Tenya finds himself crying, overwhelmed with happiness and pride for his friends who are so in love. He spends the first few minutes of the ceremony behind his handkerchief until he’s able to pull himself together.

Vows and rings are exchanged, and when the officiant pronounces the couple “officially” wed, Sero fully dips his husband and steals a steamy kiss—one dramatic enough to potentially piss off his new father-in-law, but also romantic enough that no one will be able to say a damn word about it.

Then the party begins.

While the rest of the guests are shuffled off to cocktail hour, Tenya endures more posed photos than he’s ever been subjected to in his life. Cheeks sore from smiling, he finally makes it to the reception tent where you’re waiting for him with a drink in your hand. He tips back the expensive amber liquid without bothering to ask what it is, but the burn on the way down is refreshing.

“Thank you, I needed that,” he jokes, sliding his arm around your waist.

“I thought you might. Being in a wedding is hard work, you know.” You rub little circles into his back, holding yourself close to him.

Tenya presses a kiss to your temple. “Hardest part is being so far from you.” He knows his time is short—the rest of the wedding party members are already filling their seats at the head table, and he needs to join them.

Your seat at the ‘friends and partners’ table is calling you too. With a parting kiss, you promise to find him after dinner.

The food is incredible, the speeches are limited to a few short toasts, and Todoroki shares a dance with his mother that makes Tenya tear up for a second time that day. It’s all very traditional, befitting the elegant decor and soft, intimate lighting in the room.

Tenya doesn’t consider himself much of a dancer—for all his athletic ability, he’s much too stiff on the dance floor and sticks out like a sore thumb—but he’s relieved when the DJ invites everyone out of their seats with an upbeat pop song. Suddenly, everything feels more casual, and people begin to move around freely to mingle.

Once he procures another drink to loosen him up, Tenya joins you on the dance floor along with Kaminari and Jirou. While Tenya sways side to side behind you, one hand on your hip and the other around the neck of his beer bottle, he gets the chance to people-watch. Todoroki has his arms thrown around Sero’s neck, the newlyweds sharing a smitten look and slow dancing even though it’s a faster song.

By the bar stands Toshinori, a head above the crowd and with his hand wrapped loosely around a few of David Shield’s fingers. Midoriya speaks animatedly to them while tracing his finger nervously around the rim of his cocktail glass. Toshinori flaps open his jacket to show Midoriya the bright red and blue silk lining, so Tenya assumes they must be talking menswear. They seemingly exchange phone numbers, after which Toshinori lays a heavy hand on Midoriya’s shoulder before David pulls him away to another conversation.

As Midoriya lingers alone near the bar, Tenya is able to catch his eye. He tries to wave his friend over to join the group, but Midoriya just shakes his head, lips pressed in a tight smile. It’s then Tenya notices that you’re chatting with Uraraka as you dance, your hands clasped with hers between you as Bakugou hovers nearby, hands in his pockets. She was seated at your dinner table since her boyfriend was standing up for Sero, so of course you made friends.

When the song ends, Tenya can’t help but pat your ass before slipping away. You wink at him over your shoulder and pop your hip, confirming that you liked it.

Tenya drifts over to the bar. Posting up next to Midoriya, he asks casually, “How’s it going?”

Midoriya shrugs. “Fine. I don’t really want to go over there, though.”

Tenya takes a pensive sip of his drink. “Understandable.”

“‘Sup, Iida.”

Turning away from the bar with one of the signature cocktails in hand is Shinsou. Though he was replaced as Kaminari’s date after the leftovers squabble, Tenya doesn’t hold it against him.

In fact, as he’s saying hello to his coworker, Tenya gets an idea that could be complete brilliance or an absolute disaster, but he decides it’s worth a shot.

“Have you met Midoriya? He’s a school friend of mine and Todoroki’s.”

“I have not,” Shinsou muses. He reaches out to Midoriya for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

In less than a second, Midoriya has pulled Shinsou’s entire arm toward him to inspect his wool jacket. “Is this Ralph Lauren?”

Shinsou chuckles. “Yeah, vintage. I like to do my rounds at a few thrift shops every weekend. You wouldn’t believe the gems you’ll find if you’re willing to sift through the junk.”

Midoriya flips Shinsou’s cuff inside out, closely inspecting the stitching. “It’s in great shape, and this is probably from the late 90s. Have you found any other cool stuff lately? I swear I never have any luck at the shops in town.” He’s babbling, a long-standing nervous habit.

Shinsou gives a catlike grin. “I’d be willing to give you some pointers. Wanna go find somewhere a little quieter?”

As the two scamper away, falling into conversation about the best places to thrift, Tenya makes his way back to you. He falls back into place behind you, holding your hips and swaying along with you. It seems like a lifetime ago that he only dared to touch you when no one else was around. In reality, it’s only been a few months since that night at the bar, when everything started—when everything in his life changed.

Tenya’s life isn’t perfect by any means, and it looks much different than he thought it would before you. But he has a job he enjoys for a company that treats him well. He’s in a room with nearly all his friends—more than he can count on two hands—and he’s proud of the lives they’re leading too.

And he’s in love. With you.

The DJ plays a slow song next, urging all the couples to join the grooms on the dance floor. The string lights draped in tulle across the ceiling of the tent fade to a moody indigo hue, and couples young and old take the floor. You spin around, wobbling a little before falling into Tenya’s chest. He makes a mental note to get you a water before you have another drink, but he can’t help but smile when he sees how eager you look.

“Dance with me?”

“Of course.”

You move onto the dance floor proper, choosing a spot near the outer edge. Tenya holds you close, his hands loose against your waist while your arms loop around his neck. It’s effortless, how well the two of you fit together.

Tenya had told himself for years that a relationship would only make life more complicated. He was wrong. Because being with you is easy. It’s comfortable. It makes his life better. The earth-shattering sex is just a bonus, and even that is something he doesn’t have to worry about anymore. He doesn’t need to rush off with you in public because he knows you’ll be home with him at the end of the day. Not that he never wants to hook up in public again, but it’s nice knowing he doesn’t have to.

“So, tonight. Are we going back to your place or mine?”

Tenya hums thoughtfully. “It doesn’t matter. Which do you prefer?”

You playfully tilt your head side to side, like you’re weighing heavy options. “Yours, if that’s ok. I feel like I’ve practically been living there, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Never. Even if you want to move in permanently, I wouldn’t say no.”

It’s not until you gasp that Tenya fully processes what he said, but it’s the truth. He’s been thinking about it for weeks. He’d been going back and forth, a little worried that it might be to soon for you—

“Can I really?”

Tenya pushes a stray tendril of hair behind your ear. “Yes.”

You quietly squeal with delight, just loud enough for the two of you to hear. “You want to live with me? You want to cook and pay bills together? And share a dresser drawer for our socks?”

“I think you can have your own dresser. But yes,” Tenya chuckles.

“Can we get new curtains for the bedroom windows?” Clearly, you’ve been thinking about this for a while.

“What’s wrong with my curtains?”

Your fingers drum against his shoulder. “Nothing, nothing! I just think the room could use a little more color.”

“Fair enough, if we can pick out the new ones together.”

“Deal. But I want something a little darker so I can sleep in while you go running crazy early in the morning.”

“All right.” He smiles.

Tenya has only successfully convinced you to join him once on his morning run. It was nice having you by his side, but he finds it equally nice to come home and see you still serenely asleep in his bed—your shared bed. Those early mornings are his favorite thing in the world, especially when they lead to cuddling you, showering with you, making coffee and pancakes with you. Now that you’re moving in, he realizes, maybe every morning can be like that.

Tenya tilts your head up, content to kiss your lipstick off. After, you press your cheek to his chest, ear to his racing heartbeat. Even with all the time in the world, Tenya can’t wait for what comes next with you.

#tenya iida x reader #iida x reader #tenya iida fanfiction #my hero academic fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction #mybigbangacademia #bnha #junes fics

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ms0milk · 6 months

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𝟏𝟐 | 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You will spend summers in rainstorms and autumns in his orchards because you are Alderan and he will kill Takoban gods to get you there."

cw brief description of drowning and a claustrophobic struggle with the ocean. suggestions of suicidal intention and self harm. reader tries to fight the sea and your prince has horrible misunderstandings about it. bkg 🫱🏽‍🫲🏼 unethical rescue tactics pt 2, borrowed clothes, a fevered fireside confession in the bedroom you’ve been searching for 6.4k

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If Takoba is the edge of the world, Aldera is the center. You so starved for comfort, stand with your feet at the tip of the surf and tie your braids together.

You watch the sea at midnight and the winds coming off the water bite your scars before they chill your bones. Autumn at the edge of the world is miserable. Lakes freeze but the ocean is colder, and full of tides , like Todoroki said, which you’ve spent the day reading about. Unlike lakes and winter ice skating, the ocean has a taste. Salt and decay. It tastes unfathomably ancient. You watch its many maws foaming under the moonlight and seashells burn in frigid water when you step onto them.

In the view from Bakugou’s bedroom, you’ve lined your boots up neatly in the sand and stand watch beside them for a moment. You’re dressed to stop a midnight siege, in your white nightgown and padded habergeon, staring so small and far away from the warmth of his fireplace. You in a dark blue world, framed by his open window. Bakugou would have sipped his tea and rolled his eyes at his newly fucked up sleep schedule and how ridiculous you insist on looking in public if his cup wasn’t spilt on the rugs where he dropped it. If he hadn’t already ripped his door off its hinges in his sprint out of the castle.

You couldn’t sleep. You have no appetite and no mobility yet for sparring. Just books. Just Uraraka answering your questions about the sea while watching her men train. The ride with Todoroki yesterday was nice but it left your throat stiff and you are still in your kingdom’s service. Today in Takoba, tomorrow and forever behind your prince. Long before the blue gardens and scars, before the kitchen, before sticky crowds and white horses and cold hallways, something somewhere started to die.

You take another step into the swollen water, it rises with the moon, to confirm your suspicions and grimace when a crab scuttles over your foot. Another step and you’re up to your hem. It would all be easier if your heart was still a forest fire. When did that stop? When did the rain come? Up to your knees now. Seawater climbs your nightgown.

As it stands you’re no longer a dragon, just damp tinder. The black sea sways you side to side at the hips now so gently– keep walking, don’t look back. You will free yourself from doubt and you will fight a god to do it.

“Moon makes tides,” Uraraka yawned and slouched and stretched as you sat on your knees beside her in the pit.

“Can you swim in it?”

“In the ocean?” she squinted, “Yeah of course. But don’t tell me you want to swim in this weather?”

“I won’t.”

Shinsou could only pretend not to hear for so long from his spot beside you both this afternoon, “The moon makes tides, and tides make storms.”

Good. Up to your ribs now. Wear the rock there like an anchor.

In the cold water your body heat becomes that much more apparent and it’s lovely like home. Genuinely hot for a second. Your nightgown floats up around you and you sink quickly from chest to nose when the sand under your feet drops to freezing nothing. The sudden dip sends icy pain behind both eyes and the sensation of failing steeles every joint sickly sore. Walking through the ocean is like a fight, like driving a sword through someone solid, like braving a thunderstorm, but sinking into it is easier than sleeping.

You gasp and spit out the aftermath of losing your footing but you also fight too hard in anticipation of sinking and you’re suddenly in the open air up to your waist like a salmon leaping upstream. The weight of the nightgown settles you back down to your shoulders and it’s silent except for the sound of waves kissing the beach and one another. Whistling wind. You bob only some ten meters out from shore, just short of where Todoroki held you back for fear of drowning and something wild like greed blinks open a sleepy brown eye.

You hardly have to move a limb to keep your head above water; the sea is free and gentle. You float easily here, where a lake wants to watch you fight. It’s part of the fun at home and in exchange you are safe in freshwater. Salt stings– saliva pools under your tongue to keep it from getting inside– but it also holds you up in the foam like two hands under the hip.

Is this what you were so afraid of? This is the god you planned on killing tonight?

Every day in this miserable place you have been beaten. You have fallen apart in some way, your hair is too messy, your new clothes don’t fit right. You lose Aldera with every step, heel toe– earrings that are no longer yours, heel toe– a weapon you can't return, heel toe and stand at attention– a brooch you’re too afraid to wear, to lose too, so you keep it under your pillow and wear silver seashells instead. Blue fire took the first victory in the forest and you salvaged your prince with your life thin in your teeth. Takoba took the second victory and strung you out in your nightgown for nobles to pick at like crows. A driftwood table took the third and Bakugou stole the fourth. The only time you have ever won here is when you decided to die. When you churn the water with your arms a pain echoes across your back not quite inside your scars.

Kirishima on the verge of tears, Shinsou above your operating table, Uraraka at your side, Todoroki holding you back from the edge of the world– your prince, wet to his knees– you have never, not once in your life have you ever failed. Their gazes make your throat hurt and you spit again into a tiny rolling wave that lifts itself over your chin and into your ears.

The goddess of the sea does not pity you.

She pulls you into her arms and laughs when you rub your freshwater eyes. She tossels your hair with silent waves you could never have seen coming. She reminds you of her strength. And Todoroki told you that you couldn’t possibly challenge her– eat your words sealace prince. Even just this once, witness me. You are a gem in the crown of Aldera, the left hand of the golden family. Takoba is no setback the sea is not your master, you are a chosen servant, not a mistake. It is so wonderful to be in the presence of a queen again and at night her water is soft and black.

The shore is farther than you remember when you finally glance back at the world. You bob like a peach, a frozen peach, and realize you can’t feel the cold anymore. Time to head back. Today was just a test anyway, to make sure you could put up your fight. Maybe sleep will come now that you’re starting to breathe heavy and now that your muscles ache again after days without real training. Ice creeps up the back of your neck from wet hair.

The goddess of the sea plays with you for a few more seconds and you can’t wait to come back in the warmth of the sun to lay on your back with her to whom you no longer need to prove yourself. The ocean pulls in its depths just as much as it pushes at the shore so you brace your eyes for discomfort and duck under the surface to kick a good length forward. It would have worked in a lake, at the center of the world.

When you resurface you are somehow farther than before and considerably shorter of breath. The cold starts to press on your lungs now that you’re truly using them. It’s okay, one more time. You kick once to let the goddess lift you up with her salt and breathe in the free air before diving under again but all you actually do is stir bubbles around you exactly where you started. If anything even farther. Your boots are too small to see now.

There are no storms, no raging waves, no rain, no thunder, hardly wind, what is putting up the fight? Whatever. You paddle above water, thankful for light clothes, and weary of the growing ache under your jaw– the start of a pulsing headache. More than anything you are finally excited for bed, but no matter how hard you push there seems to be a growing distance between you and safety.

Dread drops in your peachpit stomach and you start to feel long pretty fingers tickle your heels in black water. The ghost of the flame mage happy to drag you with him to the bottom of the sea. Irrational like a fear of the dark, but still there’s no more time for testing pride, you have to get back to shore. The little girl inside of you cowers when you take one more heavy breath and then release it to sink yourself as deep as the salt will let you. You can see the breaking point, all you need is to reach the seafloor and kick yourself to it.

As you drift down into the pitch black something so much better than sand or ghosts meets your feet. You connect with rock as your lungs begin to ache for air and kick with every well trained muscle your legs have, forward towards the shore. Faster than freshwater, you rocket to the surface and gasp excitedly, blink rapidly, and infinitely closer to white sand, and then immediately the goddess pulls you under again.

Sure you found the breaking point, sure your toes tease the start of the shore you want to reach so badly, but that’s what waves do here. Break.

Something so silent couldn’t possibly be this powerful, but your head is forced back under as your hips are pulled back out and you tumble head over knees, mouth filled suddenly with salt and sand in the darkness. Resurfacing is no fun task, choking. You’re thankful it’s easy to float in the ocean but saltwater dries out your mouth as you retch it back out from your throat into the foam and then there’s another break over your head to remind you that humans should stay far away from god.

You’ll die just thirty meters from the shore. Salt blinds you. Water deep in one ear keeps you just dizzy enough to let this sea carry you out once again, and shouting isn’t an option. Shouting or gasping, you have to pick one. Ache has turned to paralysis; muscles so beaten and a heart beating so fast you’re already at the last limit reached by your master, training to failure. Striking and swinging until you can no longer hold your weapon. Hours of training reduced to fifteen minutes at sea.

The bruises of your shoulder protest every paddle you force out of them and go much stiffer much faster than the rest of you. In a way, the mage is drowning you. In every way the sea is much more claustrophobic than a war room.

The moon watches you heaving for air stuck between beating waves and being swept back out to sea. She doesn’t do anything. You are pulled under again. The rocks beneath you scratch your soft skin this time and your instinct is to flinch which fills your nose with water and drowning is certainly not as peaceful as poetry makes it out to be.

Of course it ends like this. A soggy creature fighting gods alone.

Of course he’s watching you, his Captain, being stolen by the sea.

You surface forcefully with a grip on your scruff and while your body remembers how to breathe, magic every furious color of the rainbow arcs above your head. The water recoils for a moment around you in the force of his impact. Bakugou erupts from the sky as he always does into the tragedy of your life in Takoba and you have no control over your searing gaze when it turns to him above you, framed by sparks and stars. Halo from the moon.

You both fall back into the water but not so helplessly as a moment ago. Your prince hooks and arm across your chest, pressing your back to his front and with so much more strength than you could ever muster, rips his way through the water in half of a backstroke. Half of him focused on keeping you afloat and only half of him conquering the sea. His legs create their own current. He holds you and you’re sure you’re breathing loudly enough into his collar to hurt his ears.

You are an excellent swimmer. Weak children, drunk diplomats, tests from your master; you have dragged your fair share of victims out of rivers and as the victim yourself you know better than to struggle or panic in your prince’s grip as he drags you from the goddess, but you can’t help how your fingers scratch at his translucent tunic. Cling to the warmth of his bicep.

In twenty seconds he has reached the break. Strength like a war criminal, like a godslayer. He turns in the water, times it to match the swell of a wave for height, and pulls you chest to chest with a guiding hand on the side of your head to fold you into him. The sea drops you and you know what comes next. Bakugou anticipates your struggle, or a drowned man’s panic, any logical thing and wraps another arm around you tight as he pulls you both under, but you don’t fight a single second and neither do you breathe.

He knows the sea so much better. If you weren’t unraveling like a common soldier you would have realized too, just how much calmer the water is underneath its surface. Even with ears full of sand you can hear the wave crash above you but there is no pull underwater. The roll of the goddess back out to sea twirls through your hair but nothing else. She lets your prince push up to the surface and doesn’t stop you from catching your breath inside the crook of his neck. Eleven seconds to beat the break. What does he even need a captain for?

This time when the tide drops, you don’t quite drop with it. Knees in the sand. Back on solid ground you realize how hard a body can shake and then water is beating you down again from behind, and a warm hand has you by the back of the haubergeon to keep you from slipping out to sea or laying flat down to sleep in the surf.

Both hardly walking, and you more-than-half carried, you and your prince stagger over seashells like glass back to the spot where your boots rest like nothing bad has ever happened at all, chased the whole time by a disappointed tide. You collapse the second he lets you. You, useless with cold and vomiting seafoam.

“Why?!” Your prince chokes, similarly out of breath beside you, hunched over his knees from the effort of winning your war. You can feel the glare. You are warmed by it and then entirely numb again, in a terrible turn of events, to even his attention. The very last ember dies without smoke.

Bakugou, even in a temper tantrum, has never looked quite so disheveled. He’s been wet before, and pushed his hair back with big hands and caught his breath through his teeth just like this, but he’s never looked at you with such confusion. His eyebrows don’t sit right. Without a scowl his whole thing really falls apart, huh?

“Answer me, Eyes!”

You wheeze instead of speaking when you try to use your voice for the first time and spit out the last of the salt that comes up with it. He doesn’t move, catching his breath across the sand at midnight. Your prince really is so pretty and something inside is eating you alive to the beat of the wash of waves. He is a star and you are the bloody little creature beneath him always, not chosen at all.

You sit yourself up. Bakugou is beautiful. Broad chest and shoulders trained for his magic and a wet tunic that clings to every lovely shape, just a few feet too far away to touch. Unmarred face and shaggy hair. His eyes. His jaw slopes sharp, sharper still in the moonlight and dripping with water, up towards his hungry red eyes that eat everything they’ve e–

“Wake up!” He barks.

He’s not eating you. He brings back your focus and when you hold his stare this time it’s so obvious he’s not confused, or angry, not exhausted or embarrassed or exasperated. He’s six and he’s holding your hands in a velvet carriage, terrified.

Oh boy. You guess self-control died with your heart, because your shoulders start to shake in a chuckle. Bakugou stares. Any fold of his brows melts immediately at the sound of your soft laughter but he hardens again when he speaks.

“What about this is funny?!” and pulls himself up to his knees as you lower yourself to clamshells, not-quite-laughing but not fighting the smile either. This is exhausting. “You just tried to kill yourself!”

This makes you snort, which is ugly, and shuts your prince up entirely. One laugh like a lie and then another and you curl in on yourself, shivering arms folded above your head and forehead pressed flat to the sand. Something like an apology. You are redundant, not suicidal.

If it were a real apology you would wait until he spoke again to raise your head like Todoroki in the stables, but that’s not what you’re doing at all. You ache from the inside. Burn in fact. You chuckle again and spit salt one last time when you sit up, then grab for your shoes with muscle memory instead of feeling since the cold has stolen that from you too. Bakugou is staring again– it is irritating, you should do it less.

The ocean makes a lovely noise when you are not drowning in it. It’s much quieter and sounds a bit like laundry sliding over itself. Or apples tumbling into a basket. You are the first to your feet, clumsily, and you are not so delirious that you forget you need proximity to a fire. Anyone else might not be able to stand through this adrenaline trembling but how many apprentices have come so close to death so many times as you?

“Oi,” Bakugou growls, confused again by the wrong emotion for just long enough to let you escape.

The hill between the castle and the sea is overgrown with dune grasses tall enough to tickle your hips and that is what you decide to climb. Empty stomach, ruined shoulder, shaking legs, deep dead eyes.

Your clothes cling to you. They make you small. He can hardly breathe in the cold as he rushes to catch up, dripping what he's sure are icicles, and you look as if you could hardly stay conscious in it. Does your face feel as red as it looks? Friction or fever? “Captain!” And it’s obvious Bakugou can’t decide on his volume, but bulldozes after you nonetheless husky with exertion, “fuckin wait–”

There are sandy paths beaten into this seaside hill, small like children made them on their happy little way to swim. Bakugou makes quick work of it. You hike. You put all your effort into staying on two feet through a chill you could hardly ever imagine. Heat pounds in your temples, cruelly imitating Alderan fire when really it’s something poisoned like liquor.

“Please don’t follow me sir,” you call over the wind when the prince gets a few steps too close to catching up and he makes a sound almost like words, like words you shot dead in his throat. You know that sound because you have been shot at the same exact angle. Deadly isn’t it? He falls back.

Just for a moment Bakugou stops and watches, filled with something neither of you have the words for yet. Recovering just as quickly as you are succumbing to exhaustion.

Wait, he stares. Just– “Y/n.”

Wrapped in white, you are framed by rolling seagrass in the moonlight. You finally stop climbing and turn. You like a half-drowned painting. In a furred cape you might be a queen. From your spot smiling sadly at the edge of the world, your nose has started to bleed.

“Give me an order.”

Six and shaking in his hands. Eleven soaked in a fruit filled hallway, always working and fond of libraries. Sense of humor that doubles over his queen. Often covered in blood, staring too earnestly right now for him to remember that anger might fix this. Bakugou doesn’t breathe.

You turn back towards the castle alone and for the very last time, your body keeps the tears at bay. On a hill of swaying green grass and bright in the moonlight, your prince, frozen, looks so much like his mother you should kill him for it.

You always thought you were hiding from him on duty, only slightly more stealthy than a dragon. It got better when Jeanist stopped training you in chainmail, but your excitement at every small job bounced off the walls of his castle so obviously. Squirrel duty? You helped a hundred bastards back outside without pause. Sent up to swept bookshelves under the Great Oak and you're the only person he’s ever seen hum to themself so high in the air. Stable duty? Stable master more like. Seven and stacking stools to reach the saddles before Jeanist set you back on the ground by your scruff like his kitten. Bakugou can’t remember what went first, your heartbeat or his hearing.

The very first time you snuck up on him was in August under a plum tree, nine years old. He slept beside his book in the shade on a perfect day, perfectly alone and free of tutoring for the afternoon. Maybe because you were barefoot, but somehow even out of breath, the only thing that gave you away was your voice.

“Careful Highness.” He shot awake with that and figured for a moment that you were a dream while his eyes adjusted to the light through the leaves behind you– panting above him and holding tight to a plum. Like premonition your other hand lurched to catch another as it fell toward him, “they’re ready for harvest.”

Bakugou sat up. Off at an impossible distance for you to have run to catch plums, Jeanist stood beside a hanging line of red uniforms waving a beckoning hand.

“Laundry calls,” you whispered. As the little prince turned stupidly back to you above him, you set both plums on the grass beside his book and bowed.

Wait.

“Maybe a nap in the vineyard? Grapes won't bruise.”

Wait, I know you.

He watched you bow one last time and jog out of the shade back to Jeanist and Alderan laundry, just as he watches you stumble now in the dark, towards the faraway lights of a castle without the fire you need.

Wait!

“Y/n!” Bakugou bursts over the ridge and back onto marble pavement, what the fuck is he gonna do– your name won’t work twice, he’s wasted too much time. “Captain!”

You pay him no mind drifting away with your back still turned and with even less coordination than when you dragged yourself from the sea. You are deteriorating– fuck, fuck it. Bakugou, brimming with something to the left of anger, charges. If you hear him coming you do nothing to stop him. Not as he closes your distance with eight good strides and slings you over his shoulder.

"I–!" you jerk to strike instinctively, “Put me down!”

Good, you can shout. He still has time, you’re still alive. He’ll apologize for touching you later, for hesitating and staring, he will say everything he set aside in anger when you are not trying to kill yourself.

“Put me down,” you hiss like you know you’re one of three people that can make his skin prickle with threat.

“Not a chance.”

You grip the back of his tunic, clinging so wet to his body that you grab equal parts flesh and he turns away from your path to the glowing front gates all those hundreds of meters away, to kick in a door on an insignificant corner of an insignificant annex in the shadows of the castle that is only unlocked because it’s the same one he flew from, instead of his window, when he was trying not to startle you with his magic and into the sea.

You will spend summers in rainstorms and autumns in his orchards because you are Alderan and he will kill Takoban gods to get you there. Your nails on his back begin to burn with your silence and it’s haunting not only because you weigh less to him than a phantom, but because the smell of the sea follows you inside when there is no one else left to close the door. Immediately it is warmer without the wind but he will not slow until he finds fire, because you are gripping him instead of screaming again– because you are freezing to death and he will not let you win under new circumstances after he worked so hard to save you from the first.

This part of the castle is his, below the kitchens, the deep white underbelly in the cliff over the sea where no one will find him except cooks and staff who keep his secret and the queen who kindly ordered these quarters before she lost her mind. There is no difference of weight or warmth when he sets you down without a fight in front of the only red door in the hall. You aren’t a ghost. Even if you aren’t convincing. He throws the door open.

You would win in a contest but Bakugou too can make a steady fire. It’s still chirping bright in his fireplace when he crowds you inside of his quarters. Wood and furs. The smell of bread, everything so unlike Takoba. Small. Hard surfaces cushioned or covered in anticipation of winter, with red and gold and wool, forest tapestries from home– and it is a small victory that you take another step, then another, deeper inside without hint or suggestion.

“where are we?”

“You need to change,” Bakugou dismisses when you’re far enough inside to close the door, and pulls open a cherry chest of drawers at the foot of his bed. It’s draped in pelts and pillows. Faded herbs hang in bundles above you.

“have clothes in my room.”

“Didn’t ask.” When he looks over his shoulder, you are wobbling towards the fire like a starving woman, with two hands reaching subtly from your side. Good, shut up and warm up. Bakugou rifles through his options one more time and grimaces, raising his own black Alderan riding tunic aloft; it’s the only thing that’s going to be long enough to cover all of you.

He’ll sort out this shitshow step by step– dry you off, shout scream scold, get you warm, shout some more– a good Alderan lecture, and then tie you to him if he must since you obviously can’t be trusted alone. Walking into the sea when you thought everyone was sleeping. And for what? He grinds his teeth and grips the sids of his dresser with the realization that he’s probably not going to sleep again tonight. He’d kill you if that wasn’t what you so obviously wanted.

“Alright asshole, get ch–” Bakugou chokes when he turns back to you, sitting politely fireside with a dagger materialized in your good hand, blade pressed flat to your collar. He jumps, black tunic flying and shouts indiscernibly in a lunge for the weapon.

Not fast enough because by the time he makes one step, you’ve driven the blade down your chest and clear through your shirt. It falls open and your bare ribs seize in goosebumps this close to the fire, “told you I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“Drop it!” He wails, as if to a dog.

Oh how you will haunt him until the end of time. A month with you, just some soldier from his castle– a prodigal apprentice in a kingdom of geniuses– an impersonable, silent, invisible guard, who should cause harm only when necessary and appear only in danger– a woman who does this job to a tee, and still somehow steals his attention to any corner of the room she conceals herself in– just a month and you have beguiled him. Reaping grim satisfaction from watching you wreak havoc in this place he loathes.

You sit in front of his fire in his secret room, half bare now that you’ve decided to cut your clothes off of yourself, and entirely bare when you run the lip of the dagger across your shoulder to catch the fabric and then rough straight down the other side. You are pink from heat and staring through him entirely unfocused, all chaotic braids and parted lips. There’s a dry track of blood smeared under your nose and he shudders to think what part of his back it was wiped on while he was carrying you away. The fingertips of your scar peek into free air. Bakugou can’t spin around fast enough, howling in anger.

You sound like you’re smiling again mournfully like last time, “following orders, sir.”

“Don’t call me that!” He roars and shoves the black tunic behind his back towards you. This room is small, maybe five paces wide, and so he sits as far as he can from you on the floor beside his bed, still within arms reach. Back turned.

What the fuck is so funny? This isn’t a headache this is sustained torture. Bakugou’s own wet clothes cling to him in dry patches of salt and stick and grit that he’s desperate to bathe away just as soon as you are tethered to another magician. In another kingdom. You breathe heavily behind him in a mismatch between effort and task and then a sopping thud reminds Bakugou that you are stripping to nothing behind him and piling your rags onto his fine rugs.

“You’re a fucking nightmare.”

“you’ll be free of me in a moment.”

And it dawns on him, seasick irony, that there isn’t a person alive in this kingdom but him who could stop you from doing a single thing.

“If you think I’m letting you out of my sight you’re concussed.”

You pause your fiddling behind him for a second before resuming and you’re close enough that he can still hear your less than methodic pulling and ripping. A huff here and there. In the seconds it takes you to speak again your voice is still laced with the amusement that makes his skin crawl, “third time I’ve told you I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“Save it– just hurry up.”

“was just saying a prayer.”

“Save. It. An excuse that fulla holes wouldn’t even work on Kirishima the naif.”

“because nothing gets past the Champion.”

Bakugou erupts, out of unwounded fists to clench, and jerks around with every intention of barking at you. He’s not sure what he pictured before turning and he’s not sure where his voice went, but you are sat beside his fire draped in his black tunic with an expression he can hardly find the words for.

What is it in the way your shoulders hang? Exhaustion? The way your chin tips or your eyes flutter? Hunger? You watch him like you’ll eat him alive, like your life is the least of his concerns. The laces at your collar drape limp over your fingers from where you gave up their tying and so the shirt hangs loose and open, and much much too big. Bakugou has never thought of the shape your sternum makes between your breasts or what color the fine hair on your thighs might be. He knows the answers now because you’ve given up on posture like a selkie out of water and everything so unlike his Captain– because something inside of you is slipping.

“don’t bother the Champion with this,” your voice is still draconian. Even as your body fails, your eyes are still dark and infinite and possessive beside the glow of his fireplace and under a window that looks out over black water, “or Lady Mina, or your Lords. Don’t worry them with me.”

Bakugou mirrors you unconsciously in the way he sits close enough to touch. Why do you say that? You keep saying it, ‘Lady Mina,’ all month the same thing. Sir Sero, like he’s not a soldier in Jeanist’s rear guard. Like Mina and Denki didn’t grow up in the castle with you all to learn magic fifteen years ago.

“They’re not,” he admits because something about you unraveling by the sea sucks the malice like marrow from his bones. Maybe something inside of him is slipping too.

The pair of you slouch on the soft rugs from home and sticky with foreign salt, looking. Your next smile seems to take every ounce of strength, “what?”

“They’re not lords.”

And in a rush, such horror ignites in the eaves of this tiny room like an Alderan dollhouse. It is a grease fire film of oil on water. He is the match. You drop your head to your shoulder and start to laugh like Bakugou isn’t watching the life evaporate from the top of your head and out his window in the heat that pinks your cheeks and blotches your chest. You laugh like you have life to spare, “course they’re not.”

You manage enough coordination to hold the chest of his tunic closed with one hand as you rise, still giggling bitter, nothing like the bells you rang for Todoroki.

“Stop–” Bakugou reaches for you as you walk past him towards the door but stops short of touching even the air.

“dream something sweet Highness, I won’t interrupt again.”

“Oi, wait–” He gathers himself awkwardly barefoot and still dripping seawater, to catch the door before you pull it open. You bow your head and reach for the knob at the same time as he manages to slam his palm and weight against it in case you decide you have enough life left to fight.

“Told you, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Maybe staring isn’t so much a habit as it is a system to keep you from collapsing under the weight of Alderan sun. You who watch the world carefully so that when you attack it is silent and succinct. As long as you’re only looking, just watching carefully, the world will never be in danger of you spilling the secrets obvious only to you, and your kingdom won’t have to acknowledge the war crimes it takes to teach a kid how to kill.

Bakugou looms above you and rests against his door on a forearm. You raise your head like it’s lead to look at him. Your mouth even opens to speak but then something like fire punches to life in the blacks of your eyes.

It’s not a blink this time, it’s a stutter at first– and your face is so flushed that it almost looks like you’re glowing– before something you see feeds the kindling to roaring. For a blessed second you aren’t smiling. You stare so deeply into your prince he can’t look away for long enough to realize that you’re reaching for him.

Why? Why are you leaning closer?

The first heat pools at the hinge of his jaw and then scalding follows. Why are your hands so hot? You pinch his earlobe between thumb and pinky and let your fingers graze over the ridges of ear just so gently that sparks itch where sweat prickles at his neck.

It’s still for a second before chills, agonizing, erupt up his spine, bone by bone as he realizes– as your prince’s face drops and his own hand jumps to reach his ears and what’s no longer there. His right hand grasps at Alderan gold, a tiny sun. His left only cups yours, so much smaller– and the ghost of your earring lost somewhere deep at sea. Six and bleeding in his hands, all grown up and at his mercy.

“I hate you.” You smile in anguish.

You don’t bother pulling your hand from his, only rest your head against the door and let your heavy eyes finally close. Nothing to hold back the freshwater tears now.

Bakugou almost isn’t fast enough in his shock to catch you when you begin to slide down the wall in collapse, “Y– shit– Y/n!” One hand pulls up on your own and the other reaches around your back to try and bring you into him instead of hard against the wooden floor like he’s still a prince and not just a man whose heart won’t stop racing.

“Y/n? Y/n,” he shuffles you in his lap where you landed, and breathes the shapes he hopes make the sound of your name as he searches, distracted. You are limp in his arms and entirely too warm to have been freezing to death a few minutes ago. Lips parted and rolling like you’re trying to speak. Running to safety with you on his shoulder, the seachill must have hidden your fever from him. He cradles your head to check for blood and holds your cheek when his fingers come out dry from your hair, "c'mon, Captain."

“majesty..”

Your heartbreaking laughter still bubbles up in quiet sobs and incoherence murmured through abandoned ego, “..m sorry,” when you manage to see through the tears for a moment before falling unconscious again. Every apology laced always with “mitsuki.” You must have been holding it back. You must have been keeping the fever at bay by sheer force of will because now on the floor against him, your body is so hot it’s making his chest clammy. Sweat has soaked into the nooks of your black tunic and pools in salt licks between your breasts. Fuck Alderan fire.

Your prince gathers your shoulders and chest, your waist hips and exhaustion, into a bundle in his arms and pulls himself up with his doorknob because he will not let you drown, he will not let you freeze, and you will not win by setting yourself on fire. As he rises, blood leaks again from your nose. Tears fall aimlessly against his heart split to six like a pomegranate. When Bakugou is king there will be no child soldiers.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @mecuryxmoonstone @onlysarcasm @ilovemushroomss @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl

#told you ch 12 was steamy #insofar as its hot and wet #can you tell im the eldest daughter?#a hymn to black water #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #bakugou fantasy au #bakugo fantasy au

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strawhatkia · 9 months

Text

luvr boy.

INCLUDES ! izuku midoriya x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with izuku !

WARNINGS ! cursing, fem!black! reader, we still in high school y’all, a little uraraka slander (read to understand), edited

WORD COUNT ! 1.6k

A/N ! another repost, i had to break it up bc it was a lot of text - izuku motherfucking midoriya. the blasian himself. isaiah niggadoriya. him with a black female? him with a melanated goddess? i think it god’s greatest gift to give izuku ‘deku’ midoriya a beautiful, melanated, healing black woman and for me to write about it.❤️🥰 also, i hate the way uraraka is written and i will not hold back

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊ 👊🏻 📗✧

pretty boy- the prettiest

alright!! let’s start with wash day!!

…nigga did not know shit-

poor baby grew up with inko, bless her straight headed soul, so he had no clue how to probably take care of his hair

all he had was h e a t d a m a g e

“zuku, how do you do your hair?” “huh?” “like what do you do?” “uh well, nothing really, i just wash it, that’s it.” “…” “what? why are you making that face- IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY HAIR?!?”

everything…everything is wrong…

aight sis, grab yo detangler, rat-tail comb, hard brush, sulfate-free shampoo, co-wash, conditioner, deep conditioner, protein treatment, all your oils, patience, and strength

and for the love of everything that is great- throw away his 3-in-1 before he give me a fucking heart attack

chile- you couldn’t even see his fucking scalp. his hair was so matted and curled up tightly together that it hurt to look at it

don’t let him go out this house like this no mo, hear me?

but it’s nothing you can’t fix, give the lil boy head some TLC and watch them curls pop!

first wrap that towel around his shoulders, put a pillow on the floor and sit him down in between ya legs and start the marathon of old all might and black people movies you gon’ be there for a while

lil boy would not sit still and he was tender-headed pick a struggle; at this point it was either get popped by you or suffer the pain from his scalp…he chose the latter

mans almost fell asleep while you was shampooing his hair and when you put the hot oil treatment on his scalp- slumber

after everything, you twisted his hair and gave him a bonnet

“uhm...why are you giving me a hat?” you almost slapped the taste outta his damn mouth

after explaining, he put it on; little did he know it was an expect copy to yours, just a different size

“baby, we’re matching!” ”yes, izu, we are. do you wanna take pictures?” you have just made his night.

the pictures were posted all over insta and has them pinned on his account you betta bet mina was all in the damn comment section ; later, he would print them out and put them on his desk so he can look at when he sat down or went to bed

when you took his hair down the next day, he went to the mirror and baby had stars in his eyes

“it looks so cool!” “i’m glad you like it, izu”

he talks about you to all might all the fucking time to the point they both know you better than ya damn self

which is really annoying because all might be wanting them "one on one" talks and it will irk you to talk to him because everything will be "but young midoriya said..."

to be honest, he went to all might for love advice....don’t ever let him do that again. mans was using the most corniest lines but since it was izuku, he got away with- tell me you not cheesing thinking about him saying the "roses are red, violets are blue line" with the cutest blush...im waiting

golden hour, his favorite time of the day

this man will drop everything just to see you at golden hour like when the sun is just starting to set, he will rush into ya dorm room just to watch you

it's like therapy for him to see you relaxing under the setting sun and see your brown skin shining, i just feel like this time would be the time he reminds himself that he is incredibly lucky to have you and will literally do anything to keep you relaxed like this

"zuku babes, what are you looking at?" "nothing~" "whew boy you are so far gone" "hm?" "oh! uh...love you !" "hm, love you too~"

side note: ...if you hear a camera click, don't be surprised

izuku loves affection, giving and receiving

his giving love languages is acts of service and a lil bit of quality time; his receiving love language is physical touch and words of affirmation

so it’s important that you meet in the middle and give him praise, shit works like a charm

go up to him, pat and rub his curls and tell him that he did a good job and one of two things will happen

one: he'll tear up a lot and ask if you're sure or two: he'll blush really fucking hard

as for his giving love, he'll just kinda follow you now until he is told to leave. don’t do that. just don’t.

let him leave on his own, you'll make him feel like he's bothering you otherwise

ask him for cuddles, he’ll drop almost anything he is doing to do so

even if you just drop hints about it, he’ll just smile and just take you somewhere quiet before sitting down or laying down to take a nap with you (nap dates with zuku !)

i think my heart just busted outta my chest i love him so fucking much

if you wanna match his acts of service, when he’s sick or just really busy at hero work studies, take notes for him in class. he will love you forever i promise.

and best believe, that he wants your attention on him at all times

remember them head pats? let’s say you give them to todoroki or tsu for doing some reason

poor thing is definitely sitting in a corner somewhere sulking

he doesn’t want to get upset because that’s his friends and he's glad that you are getting along but he would be lying if he didn't feel a little salty about it

later on, he will ask for some and if you refuse for any reason, he’ll look at you like you just tore out his heart…cause ya did

and GOD FORBID if you give more attention to bakugo instead of him…it is now in God’s hands

he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking away from bakugo, not before throwing him a glare which later on ensues another fight between them

he only did it because he doesn’t like you getting too close to bakugo, no matter how much he cares about him being his childhood friend

i would like to think there's always that underlying fact that yes, you can handle yourself, but he also knows just how capable bakugou is and lowkey does not want to risk it

please remind him that you do love him and that he is a good boyfriend with all the hugs, cuddles, and all that other good shit

he loves to write about you in his notes, he has AT LEAST 4 notebooks about everything about you as well as somethings he wish to say to you and a little souvenirs from moments between you two that he found special

he has a special item from the time he figured out that he loved you and wrote down in detail what happened and how he felt about it

when you find these notebooks, do not, i repeat, DO NOT tell him that you found. just take the damn notebook while you can and run

give it back and you'll never see it again.

but most definitely tell him about all the things you read and watch him turn bright red

“so, you did get jealous when I gave Sero that hug the other day?” “HUH?!?!? H- H- HOW DID YOU FIND OUT!!?” “*holds up notebook marked ‘Y/n L/n’* Maybe because wrote about it…in detail” *cue the screams of embarrassment and horror*

nah but the amount of times the boy has gone off on a tangent about the little things he loves about you in there will get you flustered-

for drama sake, let’s talk about uraraka

short story: you almost knocked that bitch teeth in

long story: yes, deku used to like her and yes, she almost got him but that did not work out and guess who got him first ! tbh, you started out good friends with uraraka apart from the dekusquad but she never told you about her lil crush until it was too damn late !

and little miss thing was not happy about it; “after all this time…he gets with her!!”

i think you noticed at first her lil sly ass actions and remarks but don’t give in, let her make a fool of herself and watch her run around in circles

be calm and stay two steps ahead, it will work out in your favor ! and it did !

the next person that noticed was tsu, however, she was on your side about this because she hates petty shit and people so what uraraka was doing was not to her liking at all !

the other two, iida and shoto, caught on to it (iida wanting uraraka to at least remain civil and shoto just watching from afar) but deku remained oblivious for a while

he just wanted to be friends with everyone so he kinda just...didn't notice or thought she was mad about something else

i feel like uraraka would get beside herself and start saying reckless ass shit to express her frustration but it would only end up with her getting her ass beat and shunned from the group until she got her act together

you can guess what she said but all imma say is….she really lost her god damn mind and paid the price

what's worse is she really did try to make it seem like you stole from her...but dum dum was the one who didn't speak up? until the very last minute? which...sounds like a personal problem? sssoooooo, stay mad?

everyone in class did figure it out and it was just lowkey sad to see her get so messy but in the end !

izuku loves you very much and would do anything for you

you are his happiness and he’s thinking about spending forever with you

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

lip gloss, lil mama. | f. | multiple characters

boyfriend. | f. | katsuki bakugo

love you more when the day is new. | f. | multiple characters

taglist : @mypimpademia @sevvnt @cosmiles @megurulvr @miirene

izuku taglist: @cosmiles

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liyawritesss · 2 years

Note

hi i wanted to ask do you think you could write the mha girls dating a GN Aboriginal Reader please like their room having some paintings and the girls listening to Reader speaking in their language when talking to family

ᴍʜᴀ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ᴡ/ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴇɴᴏᴜꜱ/ᴀʙᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

Pairing: Adult!Ashido Mina, Adult!Uraraka Ochako, Adult!Jirou Kyoka x Aboriginal/Indigenous!GN!Reader

Genre: Headcanons

Synopsis: How would the MHA girls be like dating an indigenous person?

Warnings: brief mention of body insecurity/low self esteem

A/N: I’m gonna try and keep this as vague as possible so that any indigenous poc who reads it can feel like they can insert themselves in the reader's perspective and not feel boxed in.

Ashido Mina

Mina stays absolutely fascinated by you and your culture. The first time she saw you, she instantly wanted to be your friend. Although you were a bit standoffish at first, once you did open up to the pink haired girl, the two of you were seen together all the time.

She’s exceptionally respectful and curious of your culture, and asks you questions about it all the time. Then she goes back to her friends and relays the cool facts she learned from you.

She absolutely melts when you speak in your native tongue, even if it isn't directed to her. The first time she heard it was when you crashed at her place after a bad fallout with a friend, and you were explaining the situation to your mom who wasn’t fluent in English at the time. The way your voice lowered an octave, alongside a hint of raspiness, had her knees weak like SWV.

She’ll ask you to sing to her in your native language, or to whisper sweet things to her to help her fall asleep. She’ll also ask you to teach her a couple of words, more than likely pet names, so that she has something cute and romantic to call you.

She'll definitely wanna recreate some of the traditional paintings that hang in your room. It's one of your first dates, actually, and one of the first instances that you fell for her because of her appreciation for your origins.

Uraraka Ochako

Like Mina, Ochako absolutely adores your origins and is enrapture by stories of your homeland, the ones passed down to you by your parents, your spiritual practices, and most importantly, your food.

One of the factors that played in you two actually getting together was her being introduced to your cooking. It was very different from Japanese food, with bursts of flavors she had never thought were possible. Since you could tell how much she liked your food, you promised that you’d make sure to keep her nice and full with your cooking.

She’s also a very curious one, who asks numerous questions with a lovestruck, doe eyed look on her face. She really finds the ceremonial attire of your culture very interesting. You’ve had to to scold her multiple times for putting on fragile family heirlooms because if not handled properly, they could untie and break.

If you're struggling with your self esteem, Ochako is your biggest supporter. She takes secret pictures of you because you’re so photogenic, and constantly tells you she loves the most niche parts of you, like your nose, your lips, etc. She’s a real help to your confidence.

Jirou Kyoka

Jirou is a musician by heart, and is always on the look for inspiration for new melodies and songs. Therefore its only natural that the way you’d connect is when she hears you playing some music that is reflective of your culture.

She likes to chill at your place a lot, especially since you're playing some kind of music all the time.

Like the previous two, she’s curious about your homeland and why you decided to even come to japan in the first place. However, she’s more likely to slip it in subtly and isn’t as pushy about getting answers. You’ll open up in your own time with her.

Like Mina, Jirou loves your voice when you speak in your native tongue. The first time she heard it, was when she was playing with her acoustic guitar at your place and you started mumbling some words to the melody. She won’t let it show as much, though, cuz she’ll get embarrassed at how easily she folds at your voice.

Your family adores her, even though she’s kind of quiet whenever you’re on the phone with them. Jirou still gets shocked whenever your mom asks about her in english, using a cheeky nickname that's only common in your language. Though your practices and behaviors are foreign to her, Jirou feels right at home with your family.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 9 months

Text

Several Shots Later (Pro!Sero x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader)

youtube

Pairing: Pro!Sero Hanta x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you go on a vacation in an effort to relax and feel more confident, but find yourself falling for the sexy stranger who sends you a drink across the room and also happens to give you some firsthand dance lessons and a night you’ll never forget.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Sero (he’s in his late 20s); Chubby!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana/Alcohol Use; Sero Speaking Spanish; Petnames: (Baby, Mama, Mami); Skinny Dipping; Strangers to Lovers; Drunk Sex; Exhibitionism; Public Oral; Shotgunning; Dirty Talk; Daddy/Papi Kink; Rope Play; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Cum on Body; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: HAPPY B-DAY WEEK TO MY FAVORITE LATIN KING SERO!! I typed this from his bed btw. Posting it early cuz this weekend, I'm gonna be soooo busy. Anyway, I had this idea after listening to "She's Hot" (the song above) & thinking about dancing to it with Sero cuz y'all know damn well he can MOVE. Enjoy! -Jazz

P.S. If my Spanish is trash or inaccurate, please PLEASE let me know! I used Google Translate lol

Read on AO3 here!

*********

He’s been staring at you all night, ever since you sat at the bar twenty minutes ago. If he continues to do so, you’re sure to soak the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve never been stared at in such a way before––so brazenly and intimately. Though the lust is hidden beneath the surface of his charcoal eyes, you can tell that this isn’t all that is there. You’re used to being lusted after, but this feels different. More…romantic.

And all just from one look! You know you’re probably looking too deep into it though. After all, you haven’t even spoken to the man. But fuck, do you want to, ever since you caught a glimpse of him when you stepped into the resort’s nightclub twenty minutes before with your two friends and vacay buddies.

The man is the definition of “fine”.

Though he was sitting down when you first saw him, you’d place him at a good height over yours. He is all lean muscle, but not overly so, all of which you can see straining against his black polo shirt that he leaves unbuttoned to expose the sliver of chest and a gold chain underneath. His arms, which you’d love to feel wrapped around you, are roped in tattoos, his fingers adorned in rings and his wrist encased in a Rolex watch. The man must got money.

He sits back in his seat now, his shot of rum in his lap and his thighs open wide as if not aware that every woman (or man) could be staring at his crotch in those tight-ass jeans.

You’d never thought you’d ever see a man make a mullet look good either. He rocks it perfectly, several strands of black hair hanging in his alluring eyes that continue to stare you down, making you feel hot all over. His eyes sparkle just as his lip ring and silver hoops along his ears do, his long lashes making you think of a doll’s. He’s so, so beautiful.

You don’t know what he does, but judging by the watch and the Nike Air Forces on his feet, you’d guess he could be a singer. Maybe a business owner or CEO of some company? Maybe even a model? Regardless, he could have any woman in here just with one look and a smile. Why is he so entranced with you? What is it with you that he wants?

“Girl, you’ve been staring right back at him,” Mina chuckles from beside you. “If don’t hop on that man, I will ‘cause he’s fine.”

You side-eye her from your spot between her and Uraraka, watching her sip on her second cocktail of the night in her little pink mini-dress. “Why don’t you just go over and talk to him like a normal person?” she snickers.

You turn away from her and the beautiful stranger, staring down at your half-drunk Mojito. “You know I don’t make the first move,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how. Plus, I didn’t come here for a man. I came here to relax and find some confidence in myself.”

“That’s what a hot guy like him is for!” Mina argues, nodding at the stranger. Though you’re sure he has looked away from you by now, your body still burns as if he is still watching you, waiting for you. “No,” you protest. “That’s what the beach, the spa, and endless drinks are for. I’m not here for sex after the last time a hookup went wrong–which was only a month ago.”

You huff, stirring your drink around before sipping on it to calm your nerves and push those memories away. You came here to get away from all of that, after all. A month ago was the last straw when it came to dating and hooking up, especially with men online. You had been on Match for months but always seemed to run into men who either had a fetish for plus-sized women, and only that, or ghosted you as soon as they saw you outside of your pretty profile picture.

The last hookup you had seemed to break your spirit completely. You and the guy had been talking for a couple of weeks before he asked you out for dinner. Though you were excited, you felt that nabbing feeling in your gut that something would go wrong the moment he saw you in your dress, all of your rolls and jiggly parts on display.

But surprisingly, when you met with him at the restaurant, his smile didn’t even falter. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as if nothing was wrong. You even started to believe that this would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Until you invited him back to your apartment after one too many glasses of wine and got him out of his clothes. Until he stripped you, spread your legs wide eagle, and attempted to go down on you but didn’t. “I can’t do this,” he had sighed, already moving to grab his shit to hastily put back on. “Look, you’re pretty and all, and I thought I could handle you, but I can’t. You’re just too…big.”

To say you were hurt was an understatement. You said nothing to him as he profusely apologized; said it wasn’t your fault but just his preference; that he knew you’d find someone that would be attracted to you. If only he knew that this hasn’t been the case in years. If only he knew that most men only saw you as an object of their fetish and kinks; not their affection.

You weren’t asking for the fucking moon here. Just some love and affection. Just some intimacy. Just some good ol’ big dick. But you always seemed to lack in those departments because of your shape and size. There are times you wished you looked like your friends–so small and socially acceptable with their flat stomachs and breasts that didn’t sag. They could wear tight-skin dresses and crop tops without getting ridiculed or laughed at. You couldn’t.

This is why you took the offer for this trip to the beach resort on the coast of [Insert Country Name Here]. It was a short five-day trip that Mina and Uraraka had been planning to get away from your home in the US for a while and escape the sweltering heat.

When they offered you a spot and a ticket, you took that shit. You knew that this was your chance to finally gain the confidence you were missing and get away from the problems and men your city brought for a while. So far, it’s been working. Ever since you flew in this morning, you’ve been wearing all the bikinis and sundresses you want without getting side-eyed or gawked at. It feels damn good! But getting eyed down by that stranger feels even better.

“He was just a porn-addicted asshole,” Uraraka huffs, crossing her toned legs over each other in her pretty, flowery sundress. “He wasn’t worth your time. As much as I understand your reluctance, Y/N, you’re not behind a screen this time. You’re sitting here, looking sexy as fuck in your mini skirt, and he’s eyeing you down like he wants all of you.”

“She is right, babes,” Mina agrees. “The way that guy is staring at you is making me kinda jealous.” She smiles at the way you bashfully advert your eyes to stare down at your outfit. They forced you to put on the shimmery mini skirt that hugs your ass and the low-cut top that exposes your cleavage for tonight’s activities.

“What’s the point of being on vacation if you don’t indulge in hookups with hot people?” she giggles, sipping suggestively on her straw. You raise your brows at her, more than happy to correct her. “Vacations may be about that for you two, but I’m more about sleeping till the afternoon, lounging by the beach, and drinking my bottomless mimosas.”

Though the sexy stranger makes you think differently, you know that you’re never going to find the courage to get up and talk to him, no matter how much you drank or how sexy your friends said you looked. You wanted to get away from hookup culture and just find confidence on your own without looking for it in sex with a nice-looking guy. You just want to relax! But Mina and Uraraka aren't taking no for an answer.

Mina downs the rest of her drink before staring at you pointedly. “And that’s about to change tonight.” You gawk at her, laughing in disbelief at her stubbornness. “It’s only the first day!” you laugh.

“Exactly!” she agrees. “And we’ve got about five days left here at this resort. You know time flies extra fast while on vacation, girl.” She winks at you, encouraging you to go through with catching a body for the night. But you hum disapprovingly to yourself, stirring your straw around in your glass. “I don’t know, girls,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t seem right to use a guy just to boost my confidence and have a good time.”

Mina dramatically scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. “Please! You’ve got men in here who would gladly give their left lung to do all of that for you and more. Probably even that hottie with the mullet.” Though her words are encouraging, you still feel that roil of fear and uncertainty in your gut. What if he refuses you? What if he says yes but then changes his mind once he gets a look at you under your clothes?

Uraraka’s soft hand on your knee pulls you out of your head. “How can you know if you don’t at least try, Y/N?” she soothingly asks. “You deserve to have a good time, including getting some great sex if that’s what you want. And from the way you’ve been staring back at that stranger, we can tell it’s exactly what you want. So go on and get him!”

Mina places a hand on your shoulder, the smell of her fruity perfume overtaking your senses. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation,” she giggles.

And you realize that they’re absolutely right. You can never know what will happen if you don’t at least try. Plus, even if it goes wrong, there are plenty of other men at this resort you can try to snag, even if for the night or the remainder of this trip. You came here to not only relax, but to find confidence and let loose. Maybe you can do all of that in one night with a hot stranger with no strings attached.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence in your body. “Lemme just finish this first.” You reach for your Mojito and down it, already feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. You feel warm and tingly; sexy and powerful like you could take over the whole world. You’ve got this. You’re a sexy ass bitch.

Uraraka cheers you on when you slide out of your stool, pulling down your skirt over your stomach and thick, jiggly thighs as you do. “Go get him, girly!” Mina shouts encouragingly. “Let us know if you need us to push him into the pool.”

You giggle, feeling nervous yet excited. You can’t believe you’re really coming out of your comfort zone like this. But as you turn in the direction of the sexy stranger, you find his seat open and him gone. “Oh,” you breathe, disappointment blooming within you. “He’s gone.” Mina and Uraraka look around in disbelief. “Where’d he go?”

Uraraka huffs, her bob as she turns her head from side to side searching for the mystery man. “He was just right there!” Mina puts a comforting hand on your arm. “Well, don’t fret, babes. There are plenty of other fine-ass men in here who would gladly give you their undivided attention.” She begins to look around, squinting into the flashing lights on the dance floor despite your disinterest. “Let’s see…what about–“

“Excuse me,” someone says from behind you. You turn, finding the bartender holding another delicious-looking Mojito. “This is for you, miss. It was already paid for.” You and the girls stare at the drink in shock and suspicion. “Already paid for?” you parrot, baffled. “By who?”

“Well, it was supposed to be by your secret admirer, but I think I fucked that up comin’ over here.” A light chuckle leaves the lips of a man you already know is fine judging by his voice–it’s raspy and laced with a slight accent you can’t quite decipher; very pleasant to the ear. A real panty dropper.

When you and your friends turn, you swear to nearly drop dead right there in the club. There, standing behind you with a smile playing on his pierced, plump lips, is the hot stranger from across the room. And he’s even sexier up close! From this angle, you can see the ink on his chest peeking from out of his collar and how clean his nails are. Not to mention his scent––so sweet yet musky. It’s intoxicating. You and the girls stand there like idiots, silently drinking in the fine-ass stranger. “Oh, shit, he’s even finer up close,” Mina whispers to Uraraka, earning a shush in response.

The man smiles, two dimples popping on his cheeks. You love dimples. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he sheepishly says, and you catch a glint of something shiny in his mouth. A tongue piercing. ‘Oh, fuck me,’ you think. This man is trouble.

“I’m sorry if I am, but I couldn’t help myself. You just look too good tonight.” His charcoal eyes are planted firmly on you though you see them falter to trail down your form. You have to hold onto the stool behind you to avoid falling out. Your knees suddenly feel too weak to hold you up. “I thought the drink would’ve been a good icebreaker, but maybe that was kinda douchey,” he wonder aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. His bicep bulges as he does so, making you picture yourself running your fingers over it.

“U-Uh…” You desperately try to find the words to speak, not wanting to come off as a weirdo. But your mind is completely blank, all except for some naughty images of this man’s hands on you and his cock buried deep inside of you as he bends you over the bar. “No,” you reply, finding the words to finally speak. “It was sweet of you. Thank you…for the compliment too, not just the drink.” You cringe at yourself, realizing you’re babbling.

The stranger laughs lightly, the sound like sex to you. “I’m Sero,” he says in his sexy, raspy voice. “Sero Hanta.” He sticks his hand out for yours and you take it. As soon as your hands make contact, you feel an electric current soar through you as if you’re being shocked from the inside. His hand is big and calloused as if he’s been using them for years. You’re not sure if he feels the same zing that courses through you, but his eyes do trail to your mouth.

“I’m Y/N,” you timidly reply as your hands drop. “L/N. These are my friends; we’re on vacation.” You turn to your friends that you find leaving their posts, guilty smiles on their faces. “And we were just leaving,” Mina replies. “We’re just gonna go on the dance floor. Text us if you need anything!”

“Very nice to meet you!” Uraraka shouts with a wave before she and Mina hurry to the dance floor.

“Wait!” You hiss, but they’re already moving out of earshot. You watch them skid off to the dance floor with the sharpest glare you've ever given a person. If looks could kill, they would be dead. Now it’s just you and Sero the Sexy Stranger.

Though you’re not exactly alone, you may as well be the only two people standing in the room with how awkward and tense the air feels. Sero isn’t immune to it either. He stands rather rigidly, his arms behind his back and his eyes looking anywhere but at you in fear of making you feel uncomfortable. Knowing you can’t stand here all night, you clear your throat and pat the stool next to you. “Uh…did you wanna sit?” Sero shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’re cool with it.”

You nod and slide into your own seat while he hops up next to you. “So you said you ladies are here on vacation?” he asks, giving you a friendly, warm smile that eases your nerves. You nod, lacing your fingers together to give them something to do. “Yeah, for five more days. We just flew in this morning all the way from the US.”

Sero’s charcoal eyes widen in shock. “The United States?” he gasps, making you giggle. “Shit, that’s a long way. Where are you from?”

You tell him, including the state. You may as well also tell him the capital and the population of your city with how much you’re babbling, but it’s hard to keep calm in the presence of such a sexy, sweet-smelling man. Sero is full of questions, his curiosity adorable. “What’s it like there? Is the food good? I heard they’ve got the best tour sights too!”

You tell him everything, from the food to the museums to the entertainment there for tourists along with the weather, your neighborhood, and how you’ve been living there ever since you were young. “I met my friends back during college,” you explain as you sip on the Mojito that Sero bought you. “We decided to take this trip to get out of the city for a while.” Sero nods, his attention firmly on you and only you. It makes you blush and you thank God that He made you a Black woman.

“Well, you ladies picked the best place for a vacay. I’ve been coming here for years ‘cause I’ve got family down here.” He waves a hand, flagging down the bartender. “Are you from here?” you curiously ask.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah; I was born in Musutafu, a city in Japan. My mother is Latina but my father is Japanese.” Your interest in him piques here as you have a big soft spot for mixed men. “So are you bilingual?” you giggle. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese forever ever since I started watching anime.”

Sero turns to face you, one muscled arm slung across the bar. “You’re an anime fan, huh?” he asks, interest and the flashing strobe lights in his black eyes which you now realize aren't charcoal at all––they’re a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate. “What’s your favorite? And if you say Naruto, I’m leaving.”

“What’s wrong with Naruto?” you laugh, gaping at him.

“Everyone says Naruto!” he complains, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If not DBZ! Those are the two anime shows that reached the mainstream and everyone knows about.” You decide to leave your obsession with Naruto in middle school on the back burner for now.

“Well, I’ll give you my top five,” you giggle. You give him each one, most of them being very underrated and less popular than other anime. Sero looks impressed when you finish. “Daaamn, girl!” he praises. “You’ve got taste! I didn’t think anyone knew about your fifth pick. It’s more of an underrated one.” You nod, agreeing. “Yeah, but I’m into mystery. The twists and turns make each episode so fun to watch.”

He nods in agreement, a strange smile on his face. Though it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it also feels…weird. You’re not used to being smiled at in such a way, like what you’re saying is so interesting and intriguing. You turn away to sip your drink, hoping more alcohol will make you feel less weird and take you out of your head.

The bartender suddenly returns to your side with a tray of multi-colored shot glasses and tiny bowls of salt, lemon, and lime on the side. “Here you are, Mr. Hanta,” he says. "On the house.” Sero gives him a look as he lowers the tray in front of him. “I keep tellin’ you to just call me Sero,” he sighs, pulling out a twenty to tip the bartender. “I ain’t my dad.”

When the bartender scurries off with the bill, Sero fills you in on why he got the order of rounds: “They give me free shit every time I come in here but I still tip ‘em well. Probably because I know the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s.” He takes one of the shot glasses and downs the contents inside with ease, not even sucking on a lemon or lime slice as a chaser. You don’t realize that you’re staring at him until he raises a questionable brow at you. “Want one?” he asks. Flushing with embarrassment, you shake your head. “You sure? They’re rum shots. Some are just plain, some are apple, and some are coconut.”

Your eyes flick from him to the shots, slowly becoming seduced by the different flavors and the idea of letting even looser. “Just one,” you say, giving in to defeat.

Sero passes you a shot before picking up another one of his own, giving you a white-toothed smile. “To an amazing vacation,” he says, raising his shot. You do the same and clink your glass with his before downing your rum at the same time he does. Though you taste the hint of apple, the rum is incredibly strong and nearly burns your tonsils. You gag as he goes down, making Sero laugh behind his hand. “Don’t laugh!” you pout. “This shit is stronger than the stuff you find in the US.”

Sero snickers as you take a lemon slice and vigorously suck on it, chasing away the strong taste of the rum. “Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles, nodding at the shots. “This is straight rum, mama. Definitely not to be played with. Lemme order you some water.”

He leans over the bar, raising his muscular arm, and you don’t know if it’s you or the alcohol starting to speak, but his arm looks very appealing to you right now. You picture wrapped around your waist or your tummy, maybe on your side while his cock is plunging in and out of the wet, gummy walls of your pussy over and over again, his sweet, raspy voice whispering in your ear.

You blink, alarmed. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ you think. The alcohol is definitely talking now. You have to try to act as normal as possible and not like you’re a horny mess when the bartender returns with a glass of cool water.

But you don't touch the water. Instead, you go for another shot, determination flooding within you that is only conjured by the alcohol. “You wanna try again?” Sero snickers. “Be my guest. It always goes down better the second time around. Don’t drink it too fast, now.” He keeps his intense eyes on you as you down your next shot. He’s right: it does go down a lot easier. While you feel the burn as he slides down your throat, it settles into your tummy nicely, making you feel warm and tingly.

Sero downs his third shot of the night, as do you. Soon, the room is starting to get hotter and seems a little fuzzier than before. The music is sharper, Sero seems a lot sexier, and you’re having trouble focusing. You know that you are only another shot away from drunk, so you decide to take a couple of sips of your water. Unfortunately, your being tipsy means that you have zero filter. “Uh…so what do you do?” you randomly ask Sero. “Like, for work?”

Sero stares at you, perplexed, his pink, pierced lips wrapped around a straw to his glass of water. You flush with embarrassment and go to apologize for being too personal, but his smile eases your nerves. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It ain’t like you asked me what my social security is.” You return the smile, becoming accustomed to his humor and laid-back attitude. “I’m a house renovator, so I fix up houses for people to rent, buy, or put on the market. I’ve got my own business back in Japan. I’m also a dance instructor on the side.”

Your ears perk at his hustle. So he’s got money and he can dance? “So you’re extremely talented, basically.” It could be the trick of the lights, but you think you see Sero’s cheeks grow pink. “I try. What about you?” You tell him your job along with what you do all day while working at it five days a week. His handsome face scrunches in pain. “That’s a great job, but it sounds time-consuming. You ever get bored or have time for yourself?”

You discard your water and sip on the rest of your Mojito, nearly forgetting it was there. “Time for myself is what the weekends are for,” you joke. “But in all seriousness, some of the time I get tired of it. That’s why my friends and I booked this trip as a way to relax and boost my confidence.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. 'Fuck!’ you think, panicking. Goddamn, the alcohol! Why does it have to make your tongue so loose and you so dumb?

Sero’s eyes flash with interest. “Boost your confidence?” he asks, quirking a brow at you that makes him look increasingly hotter. “How so?” He leans in as if to kiss you, a secretive smile curling onto his lips. You avert your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in them. You hope he doesn’t push this. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling a stranger all about your problems with your body and dating.

“I’m kidding,” he finally says, probably noticing your change in demeanor. “You don’t have to tell me, but you could’ve fooled me ‘cause the outfit is certainly doin’ its job.” His eyes trail across your form in your outfit, making your body feel like it just got stuck in an oven. “Does that confidence-boosting also include dancing like your friends are?” he asks, nodding at the dance floor. There, you see Mina and Uraraka on the floor, twirling their hips and sipping on their drinks, carefree and beautiful.

You don’t think you could be that carefree with so many eyes on you. It’s different in the comfort of your own home, but here? It’s just too harrowing of an idea. “I-I don’t dance,” you timidly admit to Sero. “Not ‘cause I can’t, but I just…don’t.”

Sero scowls confusedly at you, his brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, sounding absolutely baffled. “When the music is this good, it’s just too good to not move! You know how to salsa? Or bachata?” You stare at him, gobsmacked. This man can really move like that? “You teach all of that?” you ask, suddenly even hotter knowing this. You can only imagine how his hips can move in bed.

Sero smirks proudly. “Damn right,” he chuckles. “And I’m gonna teach you. You’ve got the best in the business, baby.” He takes his hand in yours and helps you down off of your stool. But before he can lead to you the dance floor, you pull him back. “Wait!” you protest. He peers over his shoulder at you and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I-I don’t know if I’ve got dancing shoes.”

The sexy stranger turns around to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Really?” he asks. “That’s the best you’ve got?” You stare down at your shoes, even more apprehensive. It’s bad enough that you’re afraid of how you’ll look, but you’ve never had a man ask you to dance with him on the floor before. You’ve never had a man pursue you in such a way. You’re not sure how to handle it or what you’re even doing.

You’re aware of Sero getting closer to you until all you see is his chest in your face. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his cologne fogging your senses and self-control. “If you’re worried about what you look like, don’t. You’ve got people in here who dance worse and if you step on my toes, I’ll just act like it didn’t happen.”

At this, you smile though hesitantly. “There’s that smile,” he coos, interlacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon, before the song ends.”

The song playing now is one you recognize from TikTok from the Spanish guitars and Latin beat pumping through the speakers that you’d roll your hips into a mirror to. The strobe lights have now brightened to a seductive red that makes the dance floor look like it’s on fire. Sero leads you to a space on the dance floor between the grinding club-goers and stands in front of you, his height blocking the others dancing behind him.

You rigidly stand with his hand in yours a good distance away from him. You can already feel yourself wanting to run. The confidence that the alcohol provided you is starting to fade. All you want to do now is go back to your hotel room and go to sleep. ‘No,’ you think stubbornly. ‘You’re not doing that. You came here to find confidence and this man is trying to help you with that.’

Sero smirks jokingly at you. Unaware to you, he thinks your shyness is the cutest thing in the world. He’d fuck you right here in front of the whole club if he could. “You’ve gotta stand a little closer than that,” he chuckles. With some hesitation, you move an inch closer to him, barely toe to toe with him.

“Closer,” he teasingly repeats. Maybe it's the guitars in the song or the intensity of his gaze on you, but you find yourself moving closer to him like a moth being beckoned by a flame. Suddenly, you’re close enough to kiss him, your nose nearly brushing his chest.

“Perfecto,” he whispers, and it has your heart racing like it’s trying to win a track race. “Now you put one hand on my shoulder.” Keeping one of your hands interlocked with his, you raise your free hand and place it on his broad shoulder.

Then his hands are on your hips, secure and…nice. This feels nice. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” he asks, his lips at your ear. You can barely speak––your throat is dry and your mind has gone completely blank. “Give me your words, mami,” he demands though not aggressively. The pet name, along with his accent curling around the almost-forbidden word, has you blushing profusely and thanking the Lord that He made you a Black woman.

Sero tenses as soon as the word flies, pulling away to apologize face to face. “Sorry,” he says embarrassingly, a blush coating his cheeks. “No,” you protest, shaking your head. “I-I like it. And it’s fine…you holding me like this, that is.” A beaming smile crosses his lips; one that makes you smile too and seems to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Now just follow me,” he instructs you. “When my foot goes back, yours goes forward, like this.” He puts one foot back and you timidly bring yours forward. “Now vice versa,” he says before bringing his foot back to the front. You pick up on things quickly and press your foot back. “Good!” he praises you. “Now let’s try it with the music. It goes 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3…just like the beat. Listen to the beat.”

You do as he says and listen to the music, trying to match your foot movement with the rhythm. Sero is a natural at this, as he should be since it’s his side hustle. He moves like he is the damn music, his body turning into water. His moves are loose and languid but not out-of-beat or uncontrolled. His back is straight, his shoulders are squared, and his hips? They roll like fucking waves.

You find yourself wanting to touch them; roll your tongue against them and the washboard abs you know are just up under his shirt. He never lets you go as you attempt to copy his moves and his confidence. And yes, you step on his feet a few times, but he never loses that patient, kind smile. Soon, you start to feel more comfortable and your moves grow looser than before.

Sero feels your body relax and his eyes gleam with excitement. “There we go!” he laughs. “And you said you were worried about havin’ the wrong shoes. You’re a natural at this.” He twirls you twice, making you giddy and dizzy with joy. You are hot and sweaty, and your makeup has probably seen better days, but you don’t care. You feel good, all because of the man you're dancing with tonight.

Suddenly, a newfound confidence blooms inside of you that could either be from the alcohol or from the closeness of this fine-ass man. One that has your hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, just briefly caressing it. “I guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you say in a tone that you’ve never heard come out of your mouth before. It is low and sensual.

Sero notices it immediately. His kind smile turns into one that is more secretive like he is hiding something you don’t know about. He twirls you once more, causing your braids to fly around you and a laugh to burst from your mouth. Then he’s yanking you to him, emitting a surprised gasp from your lips when you find yourself chest-to-chest with him. One of his big hands moves to caress your lower back while the other still holds yours. He stares deep into your eyes as he begins to move his hips against yours, rolling and grinding his body into your own.

Suddenly, like a cliche romance trope, everyone disappears and all that is left are you and him. You only see him. You only know him. From somewhere on the floor, Mina and Uraraka shriek, hyping you up. “Yaaaasss, Y/N!” Mina screeches, much louder than Uraraka and the music. “Get it, girl!”

Before you even realize it, you’re grinding right back onto him, rolling your hips into his. He twirls you around once more, but doesn’t allow you to face him again. Instead, he presses his front against your back and grinds against you from there. His hands grip your hips, coaxing you to wind your ass back into him. You get lost in the music and in him, feeling safe in his arms despite only knowing him for an hour or so.

“You’ve got it,” he laughs into your ear, making your inner thighs tingle. “You were so scared to do this, and now look at you. I bet every man in here is jealous that I get to be the one to dance with such a pretty thing like you.”

Those words are what do it for you, and before you even realize it, you're looping your arms around his neck to bring him closer and turning your face to kiss him. It is a quick kiss, but it’s enough to have your heart hammering even faster and your stomach twirling. When you pull away, Sero's eyes are wide, a shocked expression on his face.

You immediately jump away and cover your mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologize. “I-I don’t know why I…” You trail off, suddenly feeling disgusting and awful. Your confidence is gone and the effects of the alcohol are waning. "I should go,” you whisper, on the verge of tears.

But as you turn to storm off the dance floor, Sero stops you by grabbing your wrist. “No,” he says, a silent plea in his eyes. “Don’t go.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, one of his arms is looping around your waist while his hand gently cups your cheek. His lips are then on yours, planting one of the softest, hottest kisses you’ve ever had on you. His lips are smooth and soft, his piercings tickling your bottom lip. Your lips dance against his until you give a soft moan of longing as your arms move to wrap around him, hugging him close. Your parted lips allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of rum and mint there as his tongue gently swirls with yours. You hold each other, kissing among the sea of people. Once again, you feel as if there is no one but you, him, and the throbbing of the music above.

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the club-goers surrounding you begin to annoyingly scream and whoop over you and Sero. “Oh, shit, they 'bout to fuck on the floor!” someone obnoxiously screams over the music.

Sero pulls away from you, eyeing the faceless voice. “Let me join!” another shouts.

“Fuck off!” Mina yells from somewhere behind you. “Leave them alone!” You’ve never been so thankful for your friends than at this moment.

Sero smirks down at you, arms still around your waist. “We’ve got ourselves an audience,” he whispers. “Not that I mind some eyes, but I’m more interested in getting you somewhere more…private.”

His accent makes the word sound like sex to you. Even if that isn’t on the table, you’ll still go anywhere with him. “Where’d you have in mind?” you breathlessly ask.

He trails his fingers from your waist up your arms to lace through your fingers. “Well, if you want the bedroom now, I’m down for that,” he says, making your pussy quiver excitedly beneath your skirt, “but there’s also a cabana on the beach that’s screaming my name right now if you wanted a good view and some quiet.”

‘Yes!’ your body screams. ‘Do it, bitch!’ But even you know that you can’t give it up to him that fast. All good things come to those who wait, after all. “I’d love that,” you shyly answer. “Can we finish the shots first though?”

You nod at the bar to which Sero chuckles, raising a brow at you. “If you’re dying to get beat by me at my own game, then sure.”

*********

The sea is by far the most especially thing you’ve ever seen. It looks even better while drunk.

After downing two more shots and guzzling down water (and taking a trip to the bathroom beforehand), Sero swoops you away to the seashore right outside the resort where the ocean stretches out for your eyes to behold under the big, white moon that looks so much bigger in the sky tonight. It hovers over the water, making the waves crystalize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky do.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, in awe at the beauty laid before you. “This is beautiful! Look at the moon and the stars!”

You stand at the top of the sandy shore, pointing at the sky with your heels in your hands. The sea breeze wafts your hair and cools the sweat on your body from the club. You feel good away from the people and activity now, the serenity that the beach provides is too nice to put off.

Sero is settled down beside you in one of the many cabanas lined up on the beach that are currently empty. He sits on the bed there with his shoes off and an almost-dazed look on his face as he stares at the ocean. “Look at the stars,” he softly sings. “Look how they shine for you…” His cheeks turn red as he stares up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” you giggle. “I need to sit down.” You put a hand to your head, feeling light and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Sero pats the empty seat next to him, smiling up at you. “Feel free, mama. This cabana is open for two.” You flush with heat despite the coolness of the salty, sea breeze as you sit beside him, feeling flustered at being so close to him. Now you don’t have the shots or the music as buffers. There is nothing but the sea and the empty beach.

However, the silence isn’t awkward––it’s rather peaceful and serene. You dig your toes into the sand while Sero hums to himself, digging into his pocket. He then pulls out a ziplock bag of a few pre-rolled blunts and a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, pausing to look at you for an answer. You shake your head, giving him the green light to do his thing. You watch as he works, entranced by his veiny hands as he takes out a blunt and ignites the lighter to lit the tip of it.

You wish his hands were working you instead.

Still entranced by him, you watch as he wraps his lips around the blunt and takes a short tester puff before putting the lighter away. He takes a deep inhale before exhaling all of the smoke out of his mouth, a peaceful look on his face. “I love doing this on the beach,” he contently sighs. “Nothing like a view of the stars and saltwater breeze while you puff on a blunt.” He gazes at you out of the corner of his eye. “And sitting with a pretty woman.”

“Whatever,” you tsk, gently smacking his thigh to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel good.” He takes another hit of his blunt, though short. “Well, yeah,” he admits, "but also ‘cause it’s true. You are pretty. Did you see the way the security guard was checkin’ you out when we left?”

You retrace your mental steps to try to remember, but come up short. “Uh…no,” you respond, not sure if you believe him. He laughs at this, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Exactly, ‘cause you were oblivious to it, but not me. You had eyes on you like bees on honey.” He then holds the blunt between his thumb and forefinger out to you. “Want a hit? You smoke?” You look down at the blunt, slightly intimidated. Then, for some reason, the thrill of trying something new floods you. “Not really,” you admit. "But there’s a first time for everything.”

You take the blunt between your thumb and forefinger before trying to imitate Sero’s actions. You wrap your lips around the end of the blunt and inhale only to nearly hack up a lung when the smoke invades your lungs. Sero laughs at you while patting you on the back, helping you out. “Take it easy, mama,” he chuckles. “Second time’s the charm as I say. Do it slower.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke much slower than before. It goes down easier the second time and you’re even able to hold it in your lungs for longer before exhaling. “Theeeere we go,” Sero praises with a laugh. “I love a girl who doesn’t quit.”

He lets you puff on the blunt for a few minutes longer, gazing out at the starry sky and sea. He then glances at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Please tell me if this is too personal, but I’m curious about you coming here to boost your confidence. I’d think a woman as beautiful as you are would have plenty of confidence in herself.”

You can already feel the weed beginning to work its magic. You feel relaxed and kind of sleepy, but not enough to pass out. All of the insecurities and uncertainty you felt before have washed away. You pass Sero the blunt and sit back on your hands, exposing your jiggly tummy a little more. “Well, the reason I’m here is after a hookup gone wrong where this dude told me I was too fat and left in the middle of sex with me. I was gutted by it, so when my girls told me about their trip, I took that chance and came here.”

You inhale the sea breeze and exhale solemnly, catching Sero’s attention…not that you didn’t have it already. “Finding love when you look like me,” you confess, running a hand over your body. “Like the dating pool isn’t built for girls like me. I’ve tried dating so many times, online manly, but as soon as a guy gets a view of me from the waist down, they want nothing to do with me. If I’m not seen as some extra pushin’ for the cushion, I’m not seen at all.”

You’re aware that you’re oversharing, but the alcohol, weed, and Sero’s warm personality have all made it where you’re like an open book now. “Not that I mind being perceived sexually,” you reiterate, “but I feel like that’s all guys see when they look at me. I’m a fetish; not a woman who is worthy of affection as well as desire. I deserve better, y’know? I’ve got a good job, a car, an apartment, a pretty face…like everything I have should be worthy to get me a good partner, right? But it’s not. All because of…of…this.”

You grip the jiggly fat of your stomach, huffing frustratedly to yourself. “I don’t hate being in my body, but society does.” Instantly, like a slap in the face, you realize you’ve fucked up. “Sorry!” you immediately gasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I said way too much.”

Sero is staring at you like he just realized you’re a person and you feel even worse. “Look, I don’t mean to pile this all on you, but you’re so easy to talk to and this weed is gettin’ to me and–“ You abruptly stop when Sero suddenly stands. He takes another puff on his blunt before dropping it into the sand and stubbing it out with his foot.

He then proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks, strip himself of his shirt to reveal his beautiful body, and reach for his belt to loosen his pants. When his pants fall, you can’t help but admire how good he looks in his briefs. You stare at him, confused, hot, and bothered by the gorgeous view. “What are you doing?” you softly ask.

“Let’s take a dip,” he says huskily. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious, drunk, or just high as a kite? “But…I don’t have a bathing suit.” Sero raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who said anything about that?” Now you know that this man is gone. There’s no way he is seriously considering skinny-dipping…and there’s no way that you’re actually thinking about it! He must see you fighting with yourself because he runs a comforting, soft hand down your arm, his touch making you shiver. “I’d like to see you,” he murmurs, “if that’s okay.”

You search his face to see if he’s joking or daring you only to laugh at you when you do so, but you find no indication that he’s playing with you. There is a molten tenderness in his gaze that has you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he has in store for you.

So you strip. You start with your top and then your skirt, biting your lip at his sharp intake of breath at the sight of your underwear. Then you’re stripping off your bra, letting your full breasts fall from the cups and against your stomach. Sero’s eyes widen at the sight of you as if you are a piece of art he is admiring in a museum. “Hermosa (beautiful),” he whispers, completely in awe at your body.

You’ve taken enough Spanish in school to know what this word means and it lights your body on fire. He then offers his hand which you take, giggling when he pulls you along to the ocean. “Come on,” he laughs. “Vamos, before the water gets too cold!”

You want to ask him what the fuck he means because the water is like you stepped into the damn Arctic Ocean when your semi-naked body finally makes contact with it. You gasp as the water shocks your body out of its tired state from the alcohol and weed. Sero keeps his hand in yours despite the crashing waves that roll against your bodies the further you wad into the ocean. Finally, you two settle and just let the water caress you. You sigh in contentment as you tip your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above.

“Nice, right?” Sero chuckles. You lazily nod, wanting to stay here forever––among the water, stars, and him. You don’t realize how close he’s gotten to you until you’re suddenly staring at his upper torso and the water beads that drip down his abs. “Can I hold you?” he gently asks. You peer up at him through your lashes, afraid to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

You nod and he slowly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in them. You let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head meets the crook of his shoulder. You embrace him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. There, you two stay, bobbing in the water, linked with one another. “This feels so nice,” you drunkenly confess. “Like a fairytale.”

“I’d hope so,” he murmurs to you. “You deserve it, mami.” And you start to believe it. After a few silent seconds, he pulls away from you, his eyes as dark as the night sky. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his gaze hopeful. “I know I didn’t ask in the club and I feel bad about that, so I wanted to ask you now and–“

You don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because you’re too busy planting your lips on his. This kiss is hungrier now. Your lips move against each other’s like you both are starving for one another. You can tell Sero wants the same thing you want when his hands move below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth. He replies with his own moan and pulls away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He wordlessly kneels before you in the water and takes both of your breasts into his hands, kneading them gently. “Shit,” he softly hisses to himself, amazed at the sight of your hanging fruit and brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimper at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts causing him to move on to other matters. He leans in and latches his lips onto one of your nipples where he begins to suckle on it. You throw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fall from your lips. You can’t yourself, especially when Sero begins to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switches, giving your other breast the same treatment. Your hands find his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the black locks of his hair. You’re ruining his mullet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice chokes on a broken moan.

You can’t take this. All of this is going straight to your pussy which is now throbbing and begging for attention between your thick inner thighs. “Please, Sero!” you whine, gripping his hair. “I need you to touch me.” Understanding immediately, Sero stares up at you, looking uncertain. He then stands, his body dripping in water, making your pussy throb even more at the sight of his glistening muscles. “You sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and hushed.

You practically throw yourself at him, giving him a deep, passionate kiss that nearly takes his breath away. “Yes,” you plead. “Yes, Sero, please. I don’t care, just please touch me.”

You grapple for his shoulders, gripping them in desperation. You don't care how much you come off as desperate or slutty to be sleeping with a man you just met. You need this right now. And Sero is willing to give it all to you. “Okay, baby, okay,” he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your waiting lips. “Let’s get us out of the water first.” He takes your hand and helps you navigate the waves as you make your way out of the water. Once you’re out and standing naked on the shore, you realize the gravity of what you just asked and initiated. Especially when Sero leads you to the cabana. Your eyes flit up to the resort yards away, realizing anyone could come out and see you two naked. “Will anyone see us?” you timidly ask.

“They may, they may not,” Sero replies, a devious smirk on his face. “If they do, they’re in for a treat watchin’ a gorgeous woman gettin’ her pussy eaten.” He then sits you down on the bed and kneels down in front of you. He gently pries your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet pussy. You watch his face change from playful to downright feral as he stares at your cunt. You flush at his expression, still feeling weird about this despite how hot and bothered you are. “But what if–“

He shushes you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs. “No more talkin’, mami,” he growls against your inner thighs. “I want my name on your lips if not those pretty moans I heard in the water earlier.” He continues to pepper your thighs in kisses while his hands pin your legs apart, his hold on you firm. He doesn’t want you hiding from him despite your cellulite and stretch marks, and rolls and imperfections. And it feels good.

You don’t stop him when he dives right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he’s making out with them. You can’t believe the way this man works his mouth! Especially when he starts to flick his tongue along your clit. His tongue swirls around it and flicks it gently depending on how you respond. And shit, are you responding well! Your body can't help but react pleasantly to the sensations––your toes curl; your back arches; your eyes flutter closed; your mouth falls open into an O as moans and gasps fall from your lips.

Sero is not only good with his tongue, but also with his hands. He reaches up and plays with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues. “H-Harder, please!” you beg to which he pinches the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the bursts of pain making you gush all over his lips. “Fuck, Sero,” you moan. “That feels so good!”

Sero moans approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably. “Keep feelin’ good for me then, mami,” he says in between wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. “Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head. I can handle it.”

He pauses to stare up into your shocked eyes, a grin on his face and a pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’ve never had anyone ask that of you before. Plus, your thighs really are on the thicker side. What if you suffocate him? Before you can even agree or refuse, he is already pushing you back onto the bed, emitting a squeal from you.

He stands on his knees for a moment, taking you in. His lust-blown eyes trail up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you that you either like or dislike. Then he inhales deeply as if struggling to process the beauty in front of him. “Tu cuerpo es un país de las maravillas, mami (your body is a wonderland, mami),” he huskily says. You have no idea what to say to that. All you can do is shyly smile up at him as he smiles down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he’s ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head. This gives him better access to your pussy so he can easily tongue-fuck you. As soon as you feel the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit, you are in heaven. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands find his hair, gripping the black locks as your hips begin to grind shamelessly into his face.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums approvingly, keeping up the pace. He doesn’t pause or slow down. He continues to work your pussy just how you want, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It doesn’t take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you. You can’t help it. His tongue just feels too good! Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risqué position turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sero must realize you’re close because his jaw starts to move faster, accompanying his tonguefucking with porn-worthy moans of his own that nearly throw you over the edge. “Fuck, Sero!” you whine. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly hums into your pussy. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and proceeds to suck on your clit while his finger begins to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides. But it is enough to push you further and further down that road to orgasming all over him. His darkened eyes flick up to yours, staring you down between your thighs. “Ven por mí,” he demands. “Cum for me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ hold back a damn thing.” He grins up at you, his piercings glistening in the moonlight. “I can take it; I’m a big boy.”

He attaches your mouth to your pussy again and runs it until you can't help but fall over that edge. “Ven por mí,” he moans into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reach higher pitches. “Ven por mí, ven por mí, ven por mí!”

And you finally do. That tight knot in your core finally snaps and a wave of euphoria washes over you as you cum all over Sero's face and eager lips with a loud moan that would shatter glass. You see the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushes, your body shivering and shuddering. Your back arches and your hips wind into Sero’s face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally fades, you’re left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so-good. Sero eagerly cleans you up, taking extra care to not overstimulate you as he runs his tongue over your sensitive, twitching pussy. Then he lifts his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices. With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hums to himself. “You taste better than the rum,” he sighs.

Something in that sentence and the way he looks at you brings something out of you––a passionate, raging fire that can only be tamed by him. Slowly, you bring yourself to sit up in front of him and grab his face to smash your lips against his. He moans into the kiss, surprised at the suddenness of it, but soon melts into it the more your lips move against his. Finally, you pull away and stare into his eyes. “I take it you liked it?” he breathlessly asks.

“I loved it,” you purr, running your hands up and down his tatted chest. “Now I want to thank you in my way…if that’s okay with you.”

Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his briefs that has only gotten bigger. You also notice the visible wet spot soaking the fabric, meaning the guy was secreting precum when he was eating you out. The idea of this makes the fire inside of you grow. You may as well have told him you want to give him a million dollars with how fast he scrambles up on the bed, ready for whatever you want to do with him. You giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying him down on his back.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you slither between his thick, muscular thighs and finally, finally, getting at those briefs. You gently pull them down, being careful to not scratch him with your nails, and gasping softly when his cock springs free from its trap. It pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box, hard, thick, and veiny. There is nothing but smooth skin down there, Sero’s pubic hair completely shaven. He notices you looking and blushes. “I sweat a lot down there in the summertime,” he sheepishly explains. “So I shaved…it isn't weird, is it?”

You don’t even answer him. You just wordlessly take his dick in your hand, your pussy throbbing at how heavy it feels in your palm. You feel him tense at the feeling of your soft hand on him which coaxes you to begin stroking him, just seeing how he feels. He is soft and smooth, his skin stretching back and forth along his dick as you stroke him.

You pay attention to his body language, peering up at him every so often to see how he’s responding to your touch. He lays with his hands fisting the cushions underneath him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes closed. Deciding you’ve got him right where you want him, you spit into the palm of your hand and continue to stroke him, lubing him up.

Once his dick is shining in your spit, you attach your lips to the top half of him while your hand busies itself with the bottom half. “Fuck,” Sero sighs when your lips wrap around his shaft. “Tan apretada (so tight)…”

You hollow your cheeks and open your throat to take him easier, realizing how big he is the moment he enters your mouth. He practically stretches your throat! How would it feel to get him inside of you? The thought makes you curious to take him deeper. After a few slow test runs where you slide your mouth up and down along his head, you begin taking him deeper. Sero’s hand moves to your head while his other arm moves behind his head, his hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Easy, mama,” he coos. “Take your time. Don’t take any more than you think you can.” You do as he says, only taking as much as your throat will allow. You gag around his cock as you begin to bob your head up and down along it, emitting orgasmic groans and swears in Spanish from his sinful lips. “Mierda! (Shit!)” he hisses, his hand tightening on your hair. “Lo estás haciendo tan bien…you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.”

He continues to whisper praise as you gag and bob around him, using as much of your skill as you can. This includes using your free hand to stroke his balls, tugging on them when he begs you to. You ignore the ache of your knees in the sand and the tears pricking at your eyes, no doubt fucking up your eye makeup. The control he allows you makes you want to give him the best neck of his life, hopefully causing him to nut deep down your throat. You’ll gladly take all of it.

Soon he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips bumping against your chin as his cock fucks your throat. “Still doin’ okay?” he asks, to which you nod, emitting a moan from him when the roof of your mouth slides along his dick. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he whines. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if someone came out here and saw me fuckin’ that pretty throat of yours?”

You tilt your head up to look up at him better, loving the view of his body as he bumps your hips against your face again and again. Spit drips from your lips the sloppier your head gets, only making him fuck your face harder. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly. “Naughty girl. What if that someone is one of your girlfriends? What if it’s a resort worker? You wanna be seen on your knees with dick deep down your throat?”

‘Yes,’ you think, your pussy crying beneath you. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ You want that more than anything. You don't care how slutty that makes you. You want to be his slut tonight. You want to be his everything and more, if just for one night. Before you can eagerly finish him off, he slides his wet cock out of your mouth, sighing as he does so. You look up at him, confused. Doesn’t he want to cum down your throat?

“You can say no if you want to,” he says, his chest heaving, “but I’m gonna be real with you: I wanna fuck you. I don’t care if it’s out here or back at one of our rooms, but if I’m gonna cum, I wanna feel that pussy wrapped around me first.” His words cause your pussy to gush desperately around nothing. You’ve never wanted someone inside you more. “I want that too,” you breathlessly answer, hurriedly getting to your feet. Sero does the same, taking your hands in his. “We can go back to my room, if you want. If the girls are there, we can go to yours.”

Sero is more than happy to agree with that judging by how his cock twitches between his thighs.

After gathering your clothes and other items, you both hastily dress in the resort robes to avoid getting kicked out of the lobby for entering nude before hurrying to the resort and through the lobby for the elevators. You use your key card to get upstairs, giggling at Sero’s wandering hands along your hips and his lips on your neck. When you finally make it to your floor, the man carries you–carries you–to your room. When you’re finally at your door, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for his silence. You’re not sure if the girls are back yet.

Carefully, you unlock your door with the card and open the door to find your hotel room still quiet, dark, and neatly cleaned, meaning only the floor maid was in here. You’re going to feel so bad for ruining her nice work later, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad now.

When the door finally shuts, Sero is on you instantly, his hands ripping off your robe and his lips hastily moving against yours. You’re no better. You can't stop yourself from tossing his clothes off too, revealing his naked body and hard cock in the silver moonlight that pours through the window overlooking the resort’s pool and beach in the distance. “I need to fuck you,” he huffs against your lips, his hands squeezing your ass. “Is it okay if I do that? It’s okay to say no if you don’t–“

You silence him with a kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and exposing yourself for your oral fixation. “Shut up and fuck me, Sero,” you purr to him. “I want you to take me to my bed and fill my pussy up the way I know you can.” You then pluck the robe tie from the floor, dangling it in his face. “And I want you to use this on me…please?” Despite feeling emboldened to talk to him in such a demanding manner, that shyness still peeks through.

Sero looks stunned at your naughty request before a smile creeps onto his lips. “I should’ve realized how freaky you were,” he murmurs before pressing a wet, passionate kiss on your lips that makes you think of his mouth in other places. “Let’s waste no more time then.” He takes your hand and leads you to your bed which is right across from Mina and Uraraka’s. You were so happy that your room came with separate beds since you like to sleep with your panties off.

As soon as you plop down on the bed, Sero is hovering over you, his knees on either side of your body. He holds the rope in his hands, staring down at you questionably. With a nod and a reassuring smile, you raise your wrists towards him. Take me.

He doesn’t need any other confirmation that this is what you want. He takes your wrists and wraps them in the tie before attaching them to your headboard so your wrists dangle. “Good?” he asks. You move your wrists around, testing out the new binds. Not too tight but not too loose either.

You nod and he pecks you on the lips before prying your thighs apart. You raise your hips up to meet him, gasping when his cock begins to slide against your slit. His eyes, hooded and hazy with lust, tick up to meet yours. “You still want this?” he huskily asks. You nod, whimpering with need and already yanking helplessly on your binds.

“No,” he firmly replies. “Don’t just nod. I need your words, mami. Tell me you want me.” He slides his cock up, nudging the head against your clit. “Tell me you want all of this dick inside of this pretty lil’ pussy.” You moan in pure desperation, going crazy with need. “Yes, I want you!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please, Sero! Please just fuck me, Papi!”

The word slips out before you realize it, but Sero catches it immediately. You see his eyes widen an inch and then, in a flash, his entire personality shifts. As soon as he finally slides his cock head inside of you, you know that this is a different person in your bed. He is no longer the sweet, upbeat, concerned man you met earlier at the nightclub, but someone more dominant. Someone who has no problem breaking you completely and then putting you back together again. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“Say that again,” he growls, beginning to roll his hips, sliding his cock head in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. “Call me that again.”

Weak moans leave your quivering lips as you struggle to stay still, afraid he’ll stop if you move. “Papi,” you whine, “please, please fuck me. I can't take much more of this. Please, please just–“

Your pleas are silenced when Sero slides in a little deeper, filling you up. A mutual gasp leaves your lips as your pussy walls tighten around him, keeping him nice and snug inside of you. He keeps up the slow thrusts, letting you get used to his girth. “That feel good, mami?” he huffs. “You like this?”

As if he can’t see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and hear the moans coming out of you. “Yes, papi!” you sob. “Yes, I love it! Please go deeper!” Sero does just that, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to bump his hips against you a little faster now, never going any harder than you want him to. It is just the right speed and pressure to slide against your G-spot, causing you to cry to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Sero laughs, staring down at you. “You like this. You love gettin’ filled by a stranger’s dick, don’t you?” His hand finds your throat, applying a bit of pressure and emitting a gasp from you. “This was all you needed to give you that confidence boost, right? Just to get slutted out the way you need to be.”

“Sero,” you groan, your pussy squeezing and clenching around his cock from his words. He leans down close to you, his lips nearly grazing yours as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. “But only I could’ve done this job right,” he whispers. “Only I can fuck you good like this. Right, princessa?”

His hips move faster, harder, his pelvis bumping against your throbbing clit that is close to exploding from the amount of stimulation and care it’s receiving. “Sero!” you loudly sob, gripping the tie around your wrists for dear life. Without a warning, Sero suddenly tosses your legs up to your ears so he can sink in deeper, causing you to nearly scream out as you see heaven’s light before your eyes.

“Tell me,” he grunts, his eyes posted firmly on yours. “Tell me only I can fuck you right like this. Tell me how good it feels!” Whines begin to leave his lips the more rapidly he fucks you, causing your titties to jiggle and the bed to rock.

“So good!” you babble as your pussy squelches and clenches around him. “You’re making me feel so good, papi! I’m gonna cum soon!” You can feel your orgasm beginning to rise the more he grinds his cock into you, filling you to the brim with him.

“Me too,” he groans. “Dios mío (my God), you just feel to fuckin’ good. And you look so pretty stretched around my dick.” He takes his hand off of your neck and strokes your cheek, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“Eres tan bonita (you’re so pretty),” he murmurs, staring down at you in utter adoration. “Eres mia…you’re mine now, honey. I don’t give a fuck if it’s just for the rest of your vacation. I’ll make you mine again and again, every fuckin’ day and night, so you won’t even look at another man back at home.”

He begins to fuck you right into the headboard where luckily you have a pillow to cushion the blows. The feeling of him hitting that spot again and again without fail is so intense that you can’t help the noises that escape you––screams, cries, and sobs of pure, molten pleasure that you know you’ll never get again. He knows it too and that’s why he begins to slow down, working his hips the way he did on that dance floor. It’s too much on your body, too much on your pussy, and you can feel yourself beginning to reach your limit.

Sero leans down to your ear, nibbling on the flesh of your earlobe. “I want you to cum with me,” he whispers into your ear. “Cum around this dick. Cum for me, mami.” He repeats the same line in Spanish, his husky voice filling your ear as his cock kisses your G-spot and his fingers move down to rub your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of no return.

It doesn't take long for you to finally burst around his cock the way you want to. You cum with a long, loud moan that tears out of you as your orgasm washes over you. The moment your pussy clenches around Sero’s cock is the moment he cums too. He grips your hips and swears in Spanish before he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him. He rapidly pumps his cock in front of your face before his nut spurts all over your body. You gasp as his moans bounce off of the walls, his cum feeling warm on your skin. When you look down, you find it the creamy substance coating your breasts, thighs, and jiggly tummy. There’s even some on your ass due to how high he has your legs up. You are completely covered in him and his scent. And you love it.

Finally, after he feebly gropes one of your breasts and presses a kiss to your foot, Sero unties your wrists and pulls his flaccid cock out of your tender, sensitive pussy, emitting a soft, weak moan from you. Then he’s rolling off of you and plopping down beside you on your bed, exhaustion overtaking him.

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow and processing what just happened. You just had sex with a total stranger. You let him tie you up and fuck you. You let him see your naked body. What shocks you is though you feel stunned at the whole thing, there is no ounce of shame or embarrassment anywhere inside of you. If anything, you feel satisfied with what just transpired.

You turn to Sero, realizing he’s looking at you already, his eyes shimmering in the slant of moonlight pouring through the window. “I meant what I said, you know,” he says, sounding out of breath. You blink at him, confused. “I want to be here with you, every day and night.” A blush coats his cheeks. “I’d like to spend your vacation with you…if you wouldn’t mind.”

You blink at him again, stunned to silence. You have to be dreaming. You just have to be. There is no way this fine-ass man that you just met and gave up your pussy to is really talking about willingly spending the rest of vacation with you. He could have anyone he wants with that face, voice, and body, but yet here he is, laying in your bed, completely pussy-whipped for you and enthralled by your body.

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe I am that pretty. Maybe I am that sexy bitch he sees. Maybe I am beautiful.”

“Is that okay?” Sero timidly asks, becoming nervous. Instead of verbally answering, you lean forward and press a long, passionate kiss to his lips that draws a purr of approval out of him. You pull away, staring up into his eyes. “Sero, you’re acting like you didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life,” you giggle. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

The biggest, brightest grin stretches across Sero’s lips at your answer and he leans in to bring you into another open-mouthed kiss that has you craving more. “You know what this calls for, right?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. Heat pools inside of your core as your mind goes to other places. ‘Please say more sex.’

“A smoke,” he answers, giving you a wink. Though that isn’t the answer you were hoping for, you also know that you have plenty of time to persuade him for another round tonight. He gets out of bed to get his jeans and retrieves his baggie of blunts from out of his back pocket.

Then he swiftly gets back into bed with you and prepares a blunt for you to share. He does the test smoke first and you watch, aroused and entranced, as the smoke billows from between his pink lips. He then passes it to you and laces an arm around your shoulder, watching you lazily as you puff on the blunt. The silence that surrounds you is serene and comfortable as you pass the blunt back and forth between one another.

When you pass the blunt back to Sero after your turn, you flush with embarrassment as naughty thoughts run through your head. “You think we can try something?” you timidly ask. Sero raises a brow. “I’ve…never shotgun with anyone before,” you softly confess, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sero lets out a laugh that you weren’t expecting. “And you wanna do it with me?” he asks, his smile teasing and playful, making you flush even more. “I think I’m honored and turned on.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before passing you the blunt. “Here, you inhale first.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke, letting it fill your lungs. He slowly leans in with his lips parted as if to kiss you, silently coaxing you to blow the smoke into his mouth in one slow, steady rhythm. You feel even more relaxed now–not just because the weed is working on you, but because you realize that Sero is a man who doesn’t judge.

He accepts every single part of you, inside and out. The thought of leaving him when vacation is over almost pains you, but you’re not going to think about that right now. Tonight and the next fun-filled days here are all that matters.

“Feel good?” he chuckles, admiring your hooded eyes. You slowly nod, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Now it’s your turn.” He takes the blunt and puffs on it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you’re helpless to resist him. You lean in, but he takes you by surprise when he firmly places his hands on your hips and flips you onto him so you’re now straddling him.

You slowly part your quivering lips for him and nearly moan when he blows the smoke into your mouth in an indirect kiss. It is just as addictive and as sexy as a direct one, but nothing beats Sero’s lips on yours. You lean in and devour his mouth, swirling your tongue around with his. He tastes like weed, mint, and rum. You find yourself nearly shoving your tongue down his throat which he groans at, his hands grabbing your ass and giving you a smack that has your pussy crying.

When you pull away, a sheen line of saliva connects to your bottom lips. “Round two then?” he asks, staring up at you with hooded eyes.

Before you can say yes or even plant your pussy on his cock that you feel hardening beneath you, you hear the hotel door unlock. Your heart leaps as you immediately jump off of Sero and hide under the covers while he sits up, hiding you from the strangers behind the door.

In walks Mina and Uraraka, drunk and hyped up on attraction judging by the two hot strangers trailing in behind them. One is tall, buff, and redheaded with a toothy grin and his hand in Mina’s while the other is shorter but just as fit and sexy with platinum-blonde hair and crimson eyes that you know have panties dropping. His hand is on Uraraka’s lower back, his fingers toying with the little strings keeping her dress together.

“So this is our room,” Mina giggles, inviting the men inside. “We have three different beds, so we can–“ She stops when her eyes land on you and Sero, naked under the sheets and staring at the four like deers in headlights. Uraraka gasps, covering her mouth and going as red as a tomato.

“Looks like your room is preoccupied right now,” the redhead chuckles, grinning at Sero. “See you finally got her, man!” The blonde rolls his eyes, his hand still on Uraraka’s backside. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” he grumbles. “He’s been eyein’ this woman down the entire night like an idiot.”

Sero looks at Mina and Uraraka who look like they want to shoot themselves. “I see you met my friends, girls,” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste.”

The redhead winks at him and wraps an arm around Mina's waist. “Y’know, why don’t we go back to our room? We’ve got a hot tub, a minibar, and a great view of the beach. We could give these two some much-needed privacy, too.”

Mina quickly nods and practically pushes the three out of the room, winking at you on the way out. The door shuts behind them, leaving you two alone once more.

Sero turns to face you and slithers his hand up your thigh. “So,” he purrs, “we still on for round 2?” He could’ve asked for five rounds and you would’ve given it to them.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, with kisses, touches, snuggling, and endless pleasure that make you want to miss your flight at the end of the week.

THE END.

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