iridecsense

[iridecsense]

[iridecsense]

[iridecsense]

red dot - m.

⤷ summary: “Lately, someone's been driving me crazy...”

 ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ word count:  20.4k ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ pairing: camboy!izuku midoriya | fem!reader ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚genre: crack, smut, fluff if you squint ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ rating: 18+ minors dni ♡ ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚warnings: mentions of drug and alcohol use ♡ ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚kinks: porn, toys, olfactophilia, panty fetish, angry/make-up sex, overstimulation, pet play (?), switch!izu + switch!reader ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚author’s note: This is a COLLEGE AU, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults—more specifically, all characters are in their 20s. me 🤝🏽 making izuku the 6'5 beefcake he's meant to be. black coded reader but skin color and race isn't specified, so anyone can be reader. i actually felt shame, real shame, while writing this. this is probably trash. i'm so sorry. enjoy ♡

The thing about secrets is that they always come to light no matter how hard you try to keep them. And Izuku Midoriya had one of the biggest secrets of all.

Keeping said secret had been quite hard—harder than he originally anticipated. He’s acknowledged that he’s only been able to keep it out of sheer luck. Izuku was rather shit at keeping secrets, especially his own. He was never a good liar. You could almost always see right through him. Though, he didn’t expect he had to lie so much to keep this particular secret. It just so happened that people would ask him questions he couldn’t give the answers to.

Questions like “Why are you so tired today?” and “Hey why can’t I come over tonight?” or the dreaded “Why is this door always locked?”

It’s not like he could just say, “I’m tired because I stayed up late last night hosting a two-hour live stream where I touch myself for strangers on the internet, and you can’t come over because I have to film again tonight! Oh, and that room is where I film and keep all my perverted toys and costumes, so unless you want to see that part of my life, you should probably stay out!”

Right?

No matter how many people try to normalize sex work and sex workers, there will always be people ready to scrutinize and vilify those who are openly a part of the scene, and the last thing Izuku needed was another thing people could deride him for. Especially when he only did it to keep lights on. It was a job just like any other job, and it was the only job he could do given the circumstances. 

You see, college is expensive. 

College is expensive and some people aren't blessed with wealthy parents who can pay their way through debt free. College is expensive, and some people aren't smart or talented enough to get scholarships to lighten the load. And, when those certain people can't get a job to save their life, and the bills keep piling up, and they get a letter from their university telling them to either “Pay up or pack up!”, what the hell are they supposed to do?

Well, they can do one of two things: pray for a miracle, or do porn.

As it turns out, God doesn’t just hand out miracles. 

So, really, there’s only one.

It is because of that sad realization that Izuku found himself on www.camcity.com. For research purposes, of course. He’d never watched cam videos before and it was one of the first websites that came up when he searched for places to stream. It was less sketchy compared to the other sites he came across and had a reliable reputation from what he could tell. He decided he should watch a few livestreams, just to see what he was getting himself into. 

He clicked on the first stream he saw. A girl around his age—maybe a bit older—with long black hair and golden brown eyes was lying on her back in a bed. It was clear she had done this before, or at least she had the confidence of someone who had. She was charismatic in how she talked to all five hundred of her watchers, himself included. She teased her audience with her promiscuous smile and flirtatious giggles. He could see why she was popular: she was a very pretty girl. 

It wasn’t long before she started stripping her clothes. The blush that spread across Izuku’s face was compulsory. It’s not like he hadn’t watched porn before, he has. But that was different. He could easily watch cheesy invented scenarios between pornstars and questionable hentai just to get off but this was different. The video on his screen wasn’t pre-recorded or animated. It was live and very much real. 

There was a sense of shame he felt while watching her. It felt like he wasn’t supposed to be, even though she was allowing him and everyone else to look. In a way, it felt intimate. The girl stripped herself naked, making sure the camera got a good view of her body. Suddenly, there was a wave of notifications ringing as hundreds of watchers started sending money. 

Ten dollars. Twenty dollars. Fifty dollars. One hundred dollars. 

That’s nearly two hundred dollars for merely taking her clothes off! Never underestimate the desperation of horny people on the internet.

If that wasn’t enough to convince him to start, the money she made once she actually started to do what the people paid for definitely did. 

And thus, user shyboi_3358 was born. A bit bland and predictable, but it got the point across.

It’s not like he planned for it to happen, it just did. He only intended to stream once or twice to get the money he needed and hold out for another month until he found a job.

That was the idea, at least, until he streamed for the first time and made over eight hundred dollars in less than an hour.

He didn’t have to do much of anything either. He didn’t have much of a setup back then, only his laptop and a cheap desk lamp. What little modesty he had left kept him from showing his face. The camera view only captured from his neck down.

It was nerve-wracking at first. He didn’t know where to start. Part of him wanted to end the stream the moment it began. To close his laptop and try his luck at another round of job hunting. But then, a small, high-pitched ding halted his cursor from pressing the red “End Stream” button. He had a watcher. 

l0st_boy1: hey handsome ;)

Oh shit.

What was he supposed to do? Again, three new dings rang. His heart jumped, skipping every other beat. He swallowed the lump growing in his throat. He could feel heat rising to his face from embarrassment. It was ridiculous, considering no one knew it was him. To them, he was just a disembodied torso. 

l0st_boy1: wow. your neck just turned really red. brattycunt: are you blushing? how cute.

It was really hot now. He shifted in his chair, still unsure of what to say. 

user167809: are you hot? brattycunt: why don’t you take your shirt off. user167809: ^ k1nkyk1tty:^^!! l0st_boy1: ^^^

His shirt? They wanted him to take off his shirt. That made sense, right? Of course he should take off his shirt! Why didn’t he think of that before? Taking his watcher’s advice, Izuku carefully took off his white t-shirt, so as to not accidentally show his face. His freckled body was on full display. The chill of the room hit the cool metal of the piercing in his erect nipple, sending a slight chill down his spine. 

l0st_boy1: 😳 user167809: 😍😍 brattycunt:💦 k1nkyk1tty: 🤤

A flood of reaction emojis and hearts flooded the chat. Another round of dings—he now had 26 watchers. 

miami_milf: what a sexy bod~! sl0bondeeznutz: holy fuck. newgirl_2000: is it weird that im already turned on? brattycunt: newgirl_2000 totally not weird!

It was... strange. The feeling he felt while reading the comments of his watchers. All of them were strange, but oddly encouraging. In their shameless sexual admiration for him, he found a taste of confidence. It was a new experience. Izuku wasn’t used to girls, or anyone for that matter, finding him attractive. He wasn't what most people would call desirable. (This is total bullshit by the way. Izuku is too oblivious to notice the way people look at him.)

To have these people fawning over him, even if it was shallow and dripping with undeniable horniness and desperation, it was still validating. That validation was all it took to ignite his motivation. It wasn’t long until he found himself slowly slipping into the perversion. His watchers engaged with him, giving them hints, suggestions, and even flat-out instructions of what they wanted him to do—what they wanted to see. 

After a while, it didn't even feel like anyone was watching. In the midst of taking direction from his thirty or so watchers, his natural instincts took over. He was rubbing himself over his joggers. Of course it was awkward at first, but after a few moments, it started to feel good. Like, really good. 

He felt himself harden in his hand. Stroking himself through the dense fabric, he closed his eyes and thought of all the things that got him excited. 

‘Boobs, big butts, long legs, plump lips—do I have an exam tomorrow? No, what the fuck. Focus. Again. Boobs, big butts, long legs, curly hair, soft stomachs—Oh god.’

His hand dove under his boxers, and began pumping his dick to the made-up images of pretty girls and the occasional boy. His breaths turned shallow as his hand slid faster on his cock. 

A new sound rang from his computer speakers, the sound of coins rattling in a piggy bank. Izuku opened his eyes, staring at the screen. A waterfall of tips came flooding in. Five dollars, twenty dollars, forty dollars! They were paying him. 

sl0ppy2nds tipped shyboi_3358 $10.00! miami_milf tipped shyboi_3358 $50.00!newgirl_2000 tipped shyboi_3358 $50.00!

The reactions and tips from his watchers boosted his stream. In a matter of seconds, his audience jumped from forty to two hundred and thirteen watchers. Comments and notifications flew across the screen, each one of high praise. They told him how sexy they thought he was, how pretty his dick was, how much they wanted to fuck him—all of them. 

A man’s ego isn’t hard to please. Izuku adjusted quite well to the attention, closing his eyes once more and touching himself on camera. He would tease and edge himself, something he usually did in his own private time. He never liked finishing early. If he was going to emulate the excitement and pleasure of sex, he was going to make damned sure he enjoyed it. 

He wasn't shy about being vocal either, that really reeled the watchers in. His heavy breaths and whiney moans, the slip of the tongue that had him curse in pleasure, they ate it up. Tip after tip after tip rolled in, and he sat there in his chair, bringing himself to his end. 

‘Boobs, big butts, plump lips, long legs, pretty eyes—fuck!’

He was a hot, sweating mess by the time he came all over his hands and joggers. He slouched in his blissful state, hanging on to that flittering sensation. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, having fucked himself out pretty good even in his simple execution. He kept his eyes close for a minute, before realizing that he wasn't necessarily finished. 

His eyes shot open to look at the stream. Still, hundreds of notifications bombarded his screen. Comments flew by too fast for him to read, tips piled up—that damned piggy bank sound glitched repeatedly! And what was once two hundred and thirteen watchers turned into five hundred and sixty-six. Over five hundred people had seen him jack off in his room. 

Over five hundred. 

All of them watched him masturbate, and they enjoyed it. Better than enjoying it, they paid him for it.

They paid him for it.

THEY PAID HIM FOR IT! 

After he ended the stream on a rather awkward note, his analytics flashed across the screen. He streamed for forty-three minutes. He had five hundred and sixty-six watchers. He gained two hundred and ninety-eight followers. And he made eight hundred and eighty-seven dollars in tips.

...

$878 IN TIPS?!!?

He nearly fell out of his chair after seeing the three-digit number blaring on his screen. He didn’t, though. He sat there, frozen in shock, with his dick still hanging out of his pants. He made half a month's worth of pay in forty-three minutes. He imagined the money he would've made if he lasted an hour or even two. 

That night, he crawled into bed and fell quickly to sleep. When he awoke, he half expected it to have been a dream. But when he checked his phone and saw he had a notification from his bank saying that $792.53 (the amount of his earnings after taxes and fees) had been directly deposited into his account, he knew it was all true. It was arguably the best feeling he’d felt in his twenty-one years of living, not just because of the money.

He’d never admit it out loud, but he liked it. There was no post-nut clarity when the cameras turned off. There was no shame or regret, only satisfaction, and pure adrenaline. It was something about being watched and praised on the internet. Knowing that hundreds of people desired and lusted for him excited him. The attention was addicting. The money was a bonus. He experienced all the perks of the industry without any of the repercussions. And it felt pretty damn good. 

Maybe he could have gotten a job had he left that night and asked the corner store one last time, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?”. Perhaps he could have been sitting behind a counter working eight-hour night shifts for minimum wage—working a “good,” “honest” job. One that he didn’t have to hide from his friends and family. 

But why the fuck would he do that when he was making more money in forty minutes than he’s ever made in a day?

That, dear reader, is how Izuku Midoriya became one of the internet’s most famous camboys in the span of eight months. 

It is imperative to know this because it is the cause of a series of queer and absurd events that start with a lie and end with a sexually intense but otherwise healthy relationship. 

What is the lie, you ask? The only lie someone like Izuku can come up with when people ask, “Where do you work?”

“I’m a freelancer,” Izuku said tightly. 

He sat in the dining hall with his friends during a mutual free period. They all circled around a large table in the center of the cafeteria directly under a domelike skylight. Today was sunny like most days were in early September. Whenever Izuku and his friends' schedules synched, they'd gather at this exact round table to chat and eat. Only today, he regrets participating in this untraditional tradition.

“A freelancer?” Shoto, one of Izuku’s best friends asked. Remember earlier when we talked about how expensive college is and how some people don’t have wealthy parents who could pay their way through? 

Yeah, well, Shoto wasn’t one of those people. His parents were egregiously rich and famous. As nice as he was, Shoto was a bit dense. While Izuku was at least ninety percent sure Shoto would never shame him for being a camboy, he knew he wouldn’t understand. He’d most likely offer to pay for his tuition and housing until he could find a “real” job, and Izuku wasn’t one to take handouts. It made him feel helpless, and he hated feeling helpless. That and his pride wouldn’t allow him to owe anybody anything. He could take care of himself. 

Also, Shoto had a big fucking mouth. Even if he wanted to tell him, he wouldn’t, because half the campus would know by the end of the day. 

Izuku knows he doesn’t mean to be a blabbermouth, but Shoto was never one to pick up social cues. He’d probably let it slip in the most unnecessary moments. It’d go something like this:

Izuku is hanging out with his friends at Bakugou’s place. Everyone is having fun, playing games, drinking, talking—you know, the usual get-together. Maybe it was late and he had an exam to study for. 

“Guys, I’m gonna leave early,” he’d say. 

“Oh, why? It's so early,” Ochako, another good friend, would ask. And before Izuku could open his mouth to explain he simply wanted to study and go to bed early for his exam in the AM, Shoto would chime in and say, “Oh, do you have to stream tonight?” completely unprovoked. 

That itself isn’t bad. People usually don’t hear the word stream and automatically think of cam videos. They think of gamers or podcasts. Now, Izuku could save himself.

“I didn’t know you stream! What game are you going to play, I’ll come with you,” Denki would offer. 

“Video games?” Again, Shoto would interrupt before Izuku could tell him to shut the fuck up. “I thought you said you stream videos of yourself on that cam site. Did I not understand what you meant when you told me you make cam videos of yourself?”

To Shoto, it was no big deal. He wouldn’t catch on that what he said was uncalled for or that their other friends wouldn’t be as indifferent as he was. Nor would he realize he basically opened the door for Izuku’s social torment.

So now you understand why whenever someone asked, “Hey, where do you work?” he’d simply say—

“Aren’t freelancers just tech hipsters who can't hold a job? That’s why they pick up any small project they find on the internet?” Leave it to Bakugou to find something negative to comment on. 

“It’s not that simple, Bakugou. Freelancers make a lot of money for doing many different things.” Mina said, taking a french fry off of his plate, much to his detest. “My cousin is a freelance writer and she's made thousands of dollars a month writing articles for different companies and websites. She doesn’t even have to leave her house!”

“I wish I could work from home,” Denki sighed. “My internship is killing me, you know. Everyone just throws their work on me and I have to do it if I ever want a job in the future.”

“Sure it sounds nice but, at the end of the day, it’s still work. Right, Deku?” Said Ochako.

Izuku simply nodded as he took a long sip from his soda, unsure of what to say. 

“Speaking of work,” Denki perked up. “This project for Professor Aizawa’s class is kicking my ass! Do you think we can have a study sesh tonight?”

“Stop complaining and do your own project, jackass! You only want to get together because you know Momo and Ochako will end up doing all the work for you,” Bakugou chided.

“That’s a serious accusation Kaachan!” Denki gasps dramatically. “Do you really think so low of me?”

“What did I say about calling me that!”

The rest of the group ignored their bickering and continued eating their lunch. “I wouldn’t mind a group study tonight,” said Momo. 

“Yeah, me too! I always focus better when I work with you guys,” said Mina, though Izuku doubted that was true. 

He enjoyed studying with his friends. It was always fun. That was the problem, though. Studying with them was never really ‘studying.’ It may start out as studying, but twenty minutes later, it turns into a pizza break, which then turns into a smoke break, which then turns into a kickback where all unfinished homework is discarded on the floor getting stepped on by crossfaded twenty-year-olds playing Just Dance 3.

Study group with his friends usually ended with Izuku pulling an all-nighter doing the homework he should have done at said study group. However, today was a Friday, and given that he had completed all his homework for the week to ensure free time this weekend to stream, a little get-together with his friends tonight didn't sound bad. 

“I don’t mind meeting up tonight,” he said, receiving high approval from Mina and Momo.

“I’ll go if Deku goes!” Ochako chimed in.

Soon everyone, even Bakugou, agreed to meet at Mina and Jirou’s apartment later that day for a good old-fashioned study sesh. Once they finished lunch, they cleared their table and left to go to their respective classes. 

The evening came sooner than expected. One minute, Izuku was in an ethics lecture, the next, he was standing in front of Mina and Jirou’s door. He could hear the bass from Jirou’s speakers the second he got off the elevator to their floor. The music vibrated the floor beneath his feet. He checked the watch wrapped tightly on his wrist. He was only thirty minutes late. Had they already given up studying?

He pounded on the door four times before someone finally opened it. 

“Deku, where the hell've you been, Loco?” Denki slurred as he pulled Izuku into the apartment by his shoulder strap.

The entire flat smelled of weed mixed with Mina’s perfume used to cover the smell. Denki practically dragged Izuku into the living room, where Jirou, Bakugou, and Tokoyami played Rock Band 2 while Momo, Tsu, and Ochako watched on the couch. Sitting at the table, Mineta, Sero, and Kirishima were playing what seemed to be a hilarious game of Cards Against Humanity.

“You need to catch up,” Denki said while guiding him to the kitchen. “Let’s get you something to drink!”

Izuku followed Denki to the kitchen and saw Shoto standing by the counter in front of Mina, who sat on top of it. “So you’re telling me you don’t like Fireball?” She asked him. 

“Not really, no,” Shoto answered. 

“Guys look who showed up!” Denki announced, catching their attention.

They both turned to Izuku and gave him friendly smiles. Mina jumped off the counter and gave Izuku a hug. 

“You came just in time,” she says. “(y/n) is making a second batch of her special drinks!”

Izuku furrowed his brow. “Who’s (y/n)?”

His question was soon answered when the door to the fridge he hadn’t realized was open closed, revealing the girl who hid behind it. She held three jugs of juice in her arms and rushed to set them on the counter next to a blender and two bottles of tequila and rum. 

“That’s, (y/n),” said Mina.

“Shoto can you put the ice in the blender for me?” She asked while opening the jugs of fruit-flavored juice. Mina grabbed Izuku’s hand and dragged him over to her. 

"Mina, do you have any tajín?”

“I think Jirou keeps it in the cabinet above the microwave, but wait,” Mina grabbed her by the hand and pulled her close. 

“(y/n), this is Deku. He’s a graphic design major like Bakugou.”

(y/n) eyed him closely enough to make him feel a bit nervous. “Deku?” She echoed. 

“It’s the nickname Kaachan—I mean, Bakugou gave me when we were kids,” he explains.

“Deku and Kaachan, huh? That’s adorable,” she smirked. “What’s your real name?”

“Izuku. Izuku Midoriya," he introduced himself, suddenly feeling shy.

Her eyes trailed up and down his body. Then, she gave him a smile that he knew he would never forget. It was the kind of smile he'd only seen in romantic comedies where the girl meets the guy and she smiles at him for the first time but not only is it—she—beautiful, but also full of possibilities. It was mysterious, coy, sexy, warm, playful, and just...perfect.

“It’s nice to meet you, Izuku.” She walked away, back towards Shoto and the blender leaving him with an incredibly warm face.

"Where did she come from?" He asked Mina.

"Jirou's Music History class," she explained. "She's come over lots of times to hang out, she's really cool. Everyone else has met her at least once before already, but I guess this is your first time, huh?"

Izuku looked surprised. "Really? Everyone?"

"Yeah, dude. If you weren't so busy freelancing or whatever it is you do you'd have met her a long time ago," she teased, clocking his heat-stricken cheeks as he watched her mix a dangerous amount of tequila with a concoction of juice. She and Shoto were talking and she said something that made him laugh—something that not everyone could do. Shoto playfully pushed her aside and tried covering the blender before she could throw more liquor inside.

It wasn’t necessarily her looks that drew his attention, though the more he looked at her the lighter he felt, as if her energy filled the room and him as well. She was intoxicating all on her own. Without realizing it, he was smiling too. Mina saw it too and smirked in her own mischievous way.

"Hey, (y/n)!" She called out to her, drawing both her and Izuku's attention. "Why don't you give Izuku the first sip?"

Her eyes met his and he instinctively gave her an awkward smile. She grinned as she poured the poorly blended orangey slush into a glass cup rimmed with sugar and tajín.

"Of course," she said as she garnished the cup with a slice of lime.

Eagerly she trotted around the counter back to him and Mina. He reached out to take the glass from her hand but she pulled it away.

"Ah ah ah," she shook her head. "You have to christen your tongue before you drink."

With a snap of her fingers, Denki retrieved a shot glass full of tequila and handed it to Izuku. He watched as Denki threw three generous dashes of Tabasco sauce into the glass.

"There you go," (y/n) urged.

"Hot sauce?" Izuku's nose twitched up and (y/n) laughed.

"Yes! You have to endure a little pain before you get the reward, that's how it works."

Izuku raised a curious brow. "That's how your special drink works?"

"Well, yes, but also life," she said with a devilish glint behind her eyes. "Don't be a pussy, it will only burn for a second."

Izuku scoffed in shock, amused by her brazenness.

"Just do it, Deku. Not only will it taste good it will fuck you up quick, trust." Denki chimed in.

Noting how everyone around him was so not sober, he knew he wasn't lying. So, with a deep breath, Izuku prepared himself before throwing back the spiced shot, his nose scrunching up as soon as the strange mixture burnt his tongue. His surrounding friends cheered and patted him on the back for his achievement as he swallowed. (y/n) cheered as well, grinning brightly up at him before taking the shot glass from his hand and replacing it with his supposed reward.

"Way to go champ!" Mina chuckled.

"It's all up from here," said (y/n) as she watched him sip her icy brew. Surprise, surprise, it did not disappoint.

It was strong yet sweet and went down smooth like juice, which was undoubtedly concerning considering he saw just how much liquor was mixed into it. But the salty-sweet rim mixed well with the spiced tequila and rum. Only one thought crossed his mind when his eyes drifted and met hers as he let it cool his tongue and throat from the first offensive drink, and it was that this drink and that girl were going to be a big problem.

Just as Denki had promised, the drink did not disappoint. Mina dragged him back to the living room and everyone else in the kitchen followed. Rock Band had been forgotten and turned into a Mario Kart tournament. Ochako, Jirou, Mineta, and Tokoyami raced each other while others watched. At the table, Sero and Kirishima packed a bong.

Mina sat by Kirishima and Izuku took up space next to her across from Sero, only to be followed by Shoto, Denki, and (y/n), who liberally took a seat right next to him. Izuku stiffened and straightened his posture in his seat as she sat down. The sudden motion sent a rush of blood and digested alcohol straight to his head.

He tried to pretend like it didn't phase him. Like he couldn't feel her knees brush against his every ten seconds or smell her pungent rose body oil. As if he could ignore the dimple on her cheek that sunk when she laughed at one of Sero's jokes or the way her glossed lips puckered around the bong when she took a deep and daring hit. He had already been staring too long before he made the deliberate decision to look away from her and her lips.

"Holy shit, this stuff is smooth Kiri," she praised as smoke blew past her parted lips.

"Funky monkey," Kirishima grinned.

Izuku furrowed his brows. "What?"

"That's what it's called. Funky Monkey. I got it from this kid who sells in my dorm. He said this would be the best for a party," he explained.

"Isn't this supposed to be a study session," Izuku smirked, taking the bong.

"Oh, come on you know better than that," Sero chuckled.

Izuku took a deep hit, mostly because he desperately wanted to feel high, but also because he knew he was a better socialite when he was high. He was a better flirt too.

(y/n) was right, funky monkey was surprisingly smooth, especially with the cubes of ice stuffed in the bong to ease the burn. He didn't even cough the first few times. For a split second, he doubted the strain's ability to get him high, but his doubts were stillborn by the fourth rotation. Between the drink and the funky monkey, Izuku was perfectly crossed.

It was fun. With the comedic banter at the table and the intensifying Mario Kart tournament, the not-so-studious study session turned into a perfect kickback. It was moments like this that Izuku really appreciated his friends. Mina and Kirishima had long since left the table to dance on the floor. Same with Denki and Jirou, who had placed third in the tournament. Shoto decided to try his hand at Mario Kart and went in for a round with Bakugou, Sero, and Momo.

Everyone else was either watching the tournament, dancing or having private side conversations, leaving Izuku alone at the table with her. The new girl. (y/n).

It was awkward at first. Izuku didn't know what to say, but he knew that he needed to say something. He wanted to say something. He probably thought up a hundred lines and scenarios he could use but each one tested terribly in his imagination. He snuck a look at her from the corner of his eye. She was watching the tournament and idly swaying to the music, lip-syncing the lyrics as she periodically took hits from a jay Shoto helped her roll.

The apartment had low lighting, relying on a single lamp tucked away in the corner and a string of LED strip lights set to purple because god forbid college students use fluorescent overhead lighting. Under the cool purple lighting, however, she looked intangible.

Sure, he was absolutely drunk and high beyond belief but that didn't negate how he felt. He was attracted to her the moment he first set eyes on her. Her (e/c) eyes were decorated with long lashes and dark eyeliner, which only made them that much more alluring. Her hair was full and straightened into voluminous (h/c) tresses that framed her face. Her lips were painted with brown lip liner and a clear, glitter lip gloss that sparkled under the right light. Small, chunky gold hoops adorned her ears, and a matching collection of tiered, dainty, gold necklaces trailed down, down, down her chest, stopping just before the dip of her breasts.

God, those breasts.

They were perfect. Perfectly round and perfectly cupped and lifted by the lacey bra peeking through her shirt. One glance and he's already fantasizing about her like some shameless pervert. But what is a person who willingly and exuberantly touches himself online called if not a shameless pervert?

He couldn't help it. (y/n) was his type through and through. Really the only recurring thought that popped in his head when he looked at her was—

"Pretty."

(y/n)'s head twirled around, and he was met with those alluring (e/c) eyes.

Fuck. Had he said that out loud?

"What?" She asked.

He definitely said it out loud.

"Y-Your nails," Izuku thought quickly. "They're pretty."

The center of her forehead wrinkled, a small smile working its way across her lips. She looked down at her hands and angled her nails as if she'd forgotten what they looked like. They were long and round in shape like an almond with a pale pink base and painted white tips.

"Wow, thanks," she said. "Didn't think they were so eye-catching."

Everything about her was eye-catching, but he made sure to keep that thought to himself.

"So graphic design, huh?" She asked. "What made you want to do that?"

It was as easy as that. The next thing he knew, they were talking as if they were old childhood friends. She was easy to talk to and he understood how she managed to click so well with everyone else. To his surprise, they had a lot in common. So much in common that it made him start to question his baser beliefs on destiny and soulmates. He wasn't as much of a pessimist when it came to romance, but he had his doubts about true love and the ever-so sought-after "one", but the hours they spent talking at the table, on the couch, in the kitchen, and now in Mina's room had him rethinking his philosophy.

Out of all the things he learned about her and decided he already adored, she made it at the top of his list once their shared common obsession with comics came to light. It started with a niche joke he'd made about Bakugou in reference to an issue of All Might. He didn't expect her to catch it or understand it. It was more for himself anyway, but to his surprise, she caught it, understood it, and laughed at it as if it were the funniest joke he'd ever told.

"You know All Might?"

“Are you kidding? I love All Might! I used to read those comics all the time as a kid!”

As if she couldn't check any more boxes in the manic pixie dream girl category, she gave him a taste of fantasy. The kickback had mellowed. Muffled chatter and Jirou's playlist leaked into Mina's bedroom, but inside it was just him and (y/n). They sat on a fuzzy rug, sharing hits from a borrowed pipe.

In Mina's room, the lights were dark and dim. Same as the living room, the only lighting provided were blue strip lights and a pink mood lamp. Izuku sat across from her, his long legs stretched out perpendicular to hers. Her legs were crossed, bouncing occasionally to the Weeknd song vibrating the floor with its bass.

She'd finished a tangent about her shitty professor when the mood suddenly shifted. The low airflow kept a cloud of smoke floating around their heads. Izuku's mouth was dry and he tried to hide his need for water by swallowing his saliva and licking his dry lips. (y/n) noticed this, even through her relaxed eyelids and the haze of the room. She liked watching him. She had been watching him the whole night. He was too occupied in his own thoughts to notice.

(y/n) had her eyes on him from the moment he walked into the kitchen. As far as she knew, everyone that was meant to be there was already there. So when the unfamiliar tall, lean, curly-haired boy walked in, she couldn't help her curiosity.

In the short few hours she'd gotten to know him she knew he was twenty-one, a graphic design major with dreams of becoming a graphic novelist, a little anxious but mostly confident in his own way, cute, a lightweight, and undeniably her type.

"What about you?" She asked. "Any professors you hate?"

"No, not really," he confessed. "Even the professors who are hard asses I appreciate. I know their main goal is to make us better and prepare us for the real world. Tough love is necessary sometimes."

"Tough love? Is that what you call it?" She giggled. "I call it sadism."

"Not a masochist then?" He joked.

"Clearly not as much as you are."

Izuku shrugged. "You need a little pain before you get a reward, right?" He quoted. "Pain and pleasure are just two sides of the same coin."

"Familiar with that coin are you?"

The corner of Izuku's lip twitched into a smirk. "Are we still talking about school?

(y/n)'s lips curled with a similar slyness. "I don't know. Are we?"

He stayed silent, unsure of what to say next as he watched her take another hit from the pipe, blowing smoke past her lips. Echos of The Weeknd's muffled lyrics filled the silence, mirroring his thoughts and intentions. He could feel himself grow and twitch in his sweatpants. He shifted in his seat and tugged on the fabric of his pants to hide his shame, but even half-hard it was impossible not to notice.

Her eyes trailed from his face, down his neck, decorated with a silver chain, down his black t-shirt that would tighten around his biceps when he flexed or stretched, to his waistline that was slim and exposed, revealing the elastic of his boxers that peaked above the hem of his sweatpants where his twitching cock was just begging to be touched.

And he was begging. He didn't have to say it aloud. She could see it in his reddened eyes that were dilated into black holes and in the way he leaned back against the bed frame; his open lap was like an invitation.

He could feel her eyes scanning him. His heartbeat quickened, speeding up with every second. An unsung song lulled in the air. They were both waiting to see who would sing it first.

(y/n) licked her lips. From where he sat, she was cool and collected. He on the other hand was an anxious mess. He felt like a deer caught in the sights of a preying tigress, just waiting—hoping for her to pounce.

"Fuck." she muttered, taking a quick puff from the pipe before setting it down on the ground and crawling over to him.

His breath got trapped in his lungs as her legs straddled his sides, all her weight sat on top of his lap. Her hands flung to the nape of his neck and into his curls, pulling him close. Her lips attacked his with little to no care. His large hands encapsulated her waist, caressing and groping at her back, ass, and thighs.

He could taste the alcohol and smoke on her tongue as they swirled together. The dryness of their mouths was of no concern. The feeling of her mouth, the softness of her lips, and the dance of their tongues were enough to have his dick rock hard and bouncing. She could feel his want between her legs. She moved her hips against him as they made out, arching her back and pressing into him so her throbbing clit could experience some friction.

Their heavy petting and soft moans floated around the room along with the smoke. Izuku cursed against her lips, his deep throaty moans growing more desperate by the second. He was practically clawing at her skin and clothes. He wanted them gone. He wanted her naked and bare, rutting against him with those perfect, perfect, perfect boobs bouncing in his face.

His rough, calloused hand snaked up her shirt, feeling her soft, warm skin until it reached her bra-covered breast. He took her left breast and squeezed, massaging her supple mound while his other hand gripped her asscheek. She was so soft, he thought. She was hot to the touch. She was practically burning for him. He loved the feel of her. Not too taught and muscular or too bony and fragile like she would break. Just soft. Just perfect. If he could enjoy her body this much just from touching her, he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be inside her.

Her moans were music to his ears. Low and sparse as they were between her excited pants, he drank them in, hoping for the chance to hear more. His lips dove for her neck, kissing and sucking while his hands dove for the button of her shorts. She gasped once his hand dove into her pants and brushed against her black lace panties. He wasted no time feeling the crotch of her panties and the damp wetness of its delicate fabric. Oh? A cocky smirk stretched across his lips.

"You're so wet," he moaned in disbelief.

Two of his fingers rubbed against her clit through the fabric, drawing out more moans she tried to hide. He looked up at her, his fingers moving on their own. He just had to take her in. To see her mouth hung open, her eyes low and dilated, see her face change once his fingers pushed her panties to the side and slid effortlessly into her dripping cunt.

What a sight it was. Her grip on his hair tightened, pulling his head back. He grunted, the pain adding to his delight. His fingers moved slowly inside her, feeling her out. He took the time to stretch her out and find the spots that made her jolt and twitch. Her hips swirled and rocked against his hand. Her moans grew louder and more succinct. He smiled, his eyes glistening at the sight of her so lost in the feeling of his fingers inside her she couldn't focus on anything else.

Her eyes shut, and her face scrunched. Her brows crinkled at the center of her forehead, and she kept her bottom lip pinned between her teeth to hold her sounds of pleasure from escaping into the next room.

"You take my fingers so well," he said lowly in her ear. "God, you're perfect. So fucking perfect. I can't believe you."

He was getting so excited his pace quickened, accurately targeting the spot that made her tick. A moan she couldn't hold back escaped, loud enough it could have alerted their friends outside if the music wasn't already so loud. Her hand unwove itself from his locks and slapped against her mouth, muffling the others that she couldn't hold back on her own.

Izuku chuckled. "What?" He panted. "You don't want 'em to hear? I do. I want them to hear how much fun we're having. I wannem to know how you sound when you cum all over my fingers."

Her eyes opened, and peered down at him. The hand around her mouth wrapped around his thick neck. Izuku grunted and swallowed, his Adam's apple pressed against her palm that tightened around his throat. Their eyes locked, and hers were dark, piercing black pools.

"Is that what you think this is?" She asked, her voice velvety and smooth. The sound of it alone had his leaking cock jumping for attention.

"Let's get one thing straight." Her hand slipped into his boxers and pulled from it his impressive length. Pink and slick with pre-cum, her hand slid up and down his member with little resistance. His strangled moans tickled her ears and she smiled.

"If they hear anything at all, it would be you and your pathetic moans after I finally put an end to your incessant stares and silent pleading. Because I decided to put you out of your misery and play with your pretty pink dick that's been begging me to touch it from the minute you walked in the room."

The feel of her hands around his throat and his cock set him off. His fingers inside her began to move in pace with her hand around his length. He looked up at her, eyes wide and round, absolutely enamored in her presence like a lovesick puppy.

"They'd hear how pretty you sound for me," she sighed. "How happy you are to let me use you for my own pleasure. You're happy aren't you?"

Izuku nodded fervently. "Yes," he said breathlessly, his face scrunching and contorting into labored expressions of pleasure. His hips jumped and bucked, chasing her touch.

Satisfied, (y/n)'s grip on his neck relinquished. She caressed him, rubbing her manicured hands up and down his exposed skin, letting him feel the light scratch of her nails.

She smirked and pressed a kiss on his lips as she caressed his cheek and massaged the back of his head. He loved the way she played with his hair. Her gentle touch was just as exciting as when she was rough with him.

"You should be thanking me," she hummed against his skin.

The pace on his cock veered faster and faster, along with his accompanying efforts on her sopping cunt. Their heated breaths turned the air hot and moist. They could feel their skin growing sticky, and the smell of their respective slickness began to permeate the room. Izuku practically whined when her thumb started to rub his sensitive tip, circling around his hole and sending jolts of pleasure straight to his aching balls.

Izuku's free hand grasped at anything and everything, her waist, her ass, her chest, her back, her neck, her hair. He wanted to overstimulate his senses with as much of her as he could. Just as her thumb worked on his tip, his worked on her clit, rubbing against the throbbing bud as his fingers fucked into her g-spot. Lewd sounds and profanities fell from her lips that she tried to silence with a sloppy kiss.

"F-fuck! Thank you," he moaned in her mouth.

"Wanna cum w'me, pretty boy?" she panted.

He nodded. "Yeah...fuck yeah, I wanna cum with you. Let's cum...wanna feel you squeeze around my fingers...wanna cum all over your pretty little hands. Please, please, please..."

He begged so nicely it would be cruel to deny him the release he so desperately wanted. So, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked her hand from palm to the tips of her fingers, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum. She gathered as much spit as she could with her cottonmouth and drooled on her hand and his reddened curve that anxiously slapped against his abdomen. Her warm saliva slicked his length, allowing her hand to glide freely. It was a race to the finish line, only there was no first place, only the promise of flying past the checkered pavement.

"M'so close...right there. Ouu, fuck," (y/n) cooed.

Her hand twisted and pumped better than his own. Meanwhile, Izuku's long digits could reach parts inside her she needed toys to touch. He could feel her walls tighten and contract around his two fingers. She could feel him pulsate in her hand like he was ready to explode. He never had a handjob as amazing as this. He never felt hands as soft and perfect as this. He never felt a cunt as wet and tight as this.

Then, he realized how truly thankful he was to her. He would've never made the first move tonight. He couldn't have pulled her onto his lap and taken her so confidently. He couldn't have wordlessly captured her lips in a heated kiss or shoved his tongue down her throat. He could have. But he wouldn't have, no matter how badly he wanted to. He wasn't the type. He was the type to titillate and beguile with his flirtations, go on a date or two, and—if he got lucky—then he would take her and bury his dick inside her with joyous abandon. But this was different. This was new.

All this—how amazing he felt in this moment, how consumed by awe and pleasure he was, how lucky he felt to have her on top of him stroking his dick and riding his fingers, all of it, was thanks to her. And he was more than grateful.

Izuku pressed kisses on her lips, cheek, and neck, keeping his moans low in her ear only for her to hear.

"Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyoutha—ah!!!"

White ribbons erupted from his leaking tip, coating her hands, and his stomach, dribbling down her wrist and the sides of his veiny length. His strangled grunts puffed against her ear, his grip on her thigh so tight she knew it'd bruise.

Her efforts weren't in vain; she came along with him just as promised. Clenching around his skilled digits, her puckered walls contracted and spasmed. Her pulsating clit pounded against his thumb and her heaven-scented slick coated his fingers. From her lips came the sweetest sound that would haunt him in the future.

They held each other close, her grip on his hair relinquished, and she held the side of his face, her thumb stroking his cheek and bottom lip. She kissed him then, gentler than before, with a tenderness that made his heart flutter. He kissed her back with just as much sweetness. Slow and languid did their lips interlock, kitten licking and pecking like true lovers.

When they parted, a small string of saliva connected their lips before snapping at the seams. If it were possible for his eyes to dilate even more, they did. He looked up at her, his big emerald eyes turned nearly obsidian. The grip on her thigh became a soft caress, and a wide grin flashed his straight white teeth.

Izuku's dimpled smile procured one of her own, a warm rush of blood heated her cheeks, and the once domineering force that pounced on him and milked his cock became a sheepish college girl, trapped on his lap. (y/n) lowered her head to hide her face in the crook of his neck. For some reason, she found it hard to look into his eyes or have him look at her.

He couldn't help but laugh. "What? You're shy now?"

"Shut up." Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

He chuckled, pulling her close, and boldly pressed a kiss on her shoulder. They stayed in that position for what felt like a while. Izuku rubbed circles on the small of her back. They were still coming down from their highs. It was a good couple of minutes before they realized the music from outside had stopped.

(y/n) shot up, her eyes wide. "What happened to the music?"

Izuku stared at her, his body frozen as his ears tried to tune into the next room. They stood still, afraid that any movement would somehow expose them to the world.

"Get up!" (y/n)'s hushed order had her jump from his lap and hurriedly button her shorts.

Izuku cursed and looked down at the mess on his lap. In a rushed attempt, he took his right sock and used it to wipe the cum from his dick and stomach. He quickly tucked himself into his pants before standing to his feet. He gave his left sock to (y/n) for her to clean her hands.

"Sorry," he blushed.

She didn't seem to care and cleaned herself as best she could. He stuffed the socks into each other before putting them in his pocket, sliding his Crocs back on just in time. A knock came from behind the door, and their heads snapped up to see Mina pop her head in.

"Hey guys, we're gonna call it a night—are you okay?"

From the outside looking in the pair probably did appear awkward.

"Yeah, yeah we're good."

Mina's eyes narrowed. "Okay? Well come out we're gonna take one last shot."

They watched her retreat behind the door, their tense bodies relaxing in her absence. They shared a look, snickers erupting from their chests. Izuku gestured for her to go ahead, but with her back to him he couldn't help but give a playful smack to her ass.

(y/n) gasped and pushed him in the chest, her face hotter than coals with embarrassment as she scurried down the hall to the next room. He did his best to hide his obvious giddy before he entered the living room. The last thing he wanted was for the others to know what happened in the other room.

When he came in he found everyone gathered around the table with shot glasses in their hand.

"Deku, I've got yours right here!" Denki held out a tequila-filled shot glass.

Making his way to the table, Izuku found space around the table between Denki and Shoto. (y/n) stood across from him next to Mina and Bakugou, though she was doing everything in her power not to look at him. Denki put the shot glass in his hand and gave a toast.

"To senior year! May we all pass our classes and finally escape this hell hole by the end of the year."

"Here, here!" They cheered in unison, tapping the bottom of the glass on the table before downing them in one sip.

It took a while for everyone to clear out of Mina and Jirou's apartment, goodbyes and what-not. Eventually, everyone pooled out, going in their respective directions back to their dorm. Some people lived in the same building as Jirou and Mina and didn't have to journey far, unlike those who lived on the other side of campus or in off-campus apartments nearby. Others wanted to keep the party going and headed to the bars in town. And (y/n)...she decided to sleep over at Mina and Jirou's insistence.

By the time the elevators reached the lobby, everyone scattered. Izuku stood on the sidewalk, unsure of what he wanted to do.

Well, he knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to take (y/n) home for round two, but now that plan was bust. He was full of energy and excitement. Hell, he was still half-hard. Every time he tried to form a coherent thought, it was overtaken by her. Her touch, her scent, her voice, her moans. The whole situation gave him whiplash. He wasn't even sure it happened. It felt like one hell of a wet dream.

"Fuck..." he muttered.

One thing was for sure; he wasn't going to let this pent-up energy go to waste.

ping! ping! ping!

wheresthebbcs: woah urgoodgrl: this is so hot! miami_milf: sweet boy, this is the horniest I've seen you. user5318008: i wish he'd use me like that.

"ah! ah! hhhhuuuhhh... fuck mee..."

Izuku's heavy pants and grunts filled the room. His whole body was sticky, coated in a thin layer of sweat due to the stuffiness of the room and the vigorous assault he was giving his dick.

As soon as he returned home from the kickback, he made quick use of his hard-on. With her memory still fresh, he set up his camera and positioned himself in the oversized leather beanbag chair in front of it. (He bought it a few months ago. It was comfier than his old desk chair and easier to clean.)

He teased himself at first, rubbing his hands on his chest and thighs, partially to excite himself more but more so to give his viewers time to join. They came like moths to a flame, flooding his comment section with their usual depraved quips. Normally, he would greet them, give them some attention, and feed into their delusional parasocial relationship with him. But tonight, he let them ping unacknowledged.

He only had the mind and energy to think about her and how much better her pussy would feel than this fuck ass fleshlight.

newgirl_2000: i've never seen him like this...it's sooooo sexy! chicagobear_3: he's fucking that thing like it's his last night on earth. brattycunt: newgirl_2000 what do you think made him like this?

The wet squelching of his lube-filled fleshlight and the slap of his balls against his ass mimicked what his imagination fantasized to be the sound of (y/n) freely bouncing on the length of his dick.

What he wouldn't give to see it for real. How amazing would it be to have all of her, to be used again by her? To see her bare, to feel her body pressed against his, smell her sweat and her cunt.

Oh...that's right....her cunt...

He'd forgotten. He had her scent quite literally in the palm of his hand. Without a second thought, Izuku held his right hand to his nose and breathed in her aroma. He moaned, the pace on his cock doubling. The muted, tangy remnants of her arousal filled his nostrils. He cursed, incoherent exclaims and praises dribbled past his lips.

"so good...so fucking good..."

thisisabathtub: ayo what the fuck? 😭 2bullies1nerd: is he smelling his fingers? playboi_thottie: i know a mf smelling pussy juice when i see one lmaoo brattycunt: NO WAY 😭😭 say it ain't so! newgirl_2000: brattycunt not somebody fucked our man 😭😭

His pathetic moans grew as he planted his feet on the ground and bucked his hips up into the translucent toy twisting and pumping along the curve of his length. There was no way it could hold a candle to the real thing, but for now, it was good. For now, it was enough. All he could do was close his eyes and imagine her while he mercilessly fucked into a cheap imitation pussy.

kingsized: hold up im typing with one hand bbydoll88: oh to be a fleshlight~ k1nkyk1tty: i'm so wet rn newgirl_2000: ^!! brattycunt: my vibrator isn't enough. i need to fuck the screen.

He was practically drooling, unable to keep his mouth closed long enough to stop his saliva from pooling in his mouth. Her scent was so sweet and full of pheromones. He couldn't get enough. For a brief moment, he dreaded the future prospect of showering and having it washed away forever. What kind of sick fuck thinks like that?

Him apparently.

But it was her fault. She made him like this. Why did she have to climb on top of him? She should've never touched him. For the rest of his life, he will remember that moment and her scent, years from now, when he's old and decrepit, married to some other person who didn't have a fraction of the hold she had on him.

He will call her name in his sleep and wake up to evidence that his doctors were wrong. He didn't have andropause, his dick worked perfectly fine in his old age! It wasn't his fault his spouse couldn't make it tick, couldn't make it jump, or get it hard as a rock, and only the mere memory of her could. That's the effect she had on him, and she cursed him the minute her lips smashed into his.

"Ohhhh, that's it...keep going. Ride it for me baby, please...lemme see, lemme see..."

The consecutive sound of rattling piggy banks blended together, one after the other, as the tips rolled in. He had half the brain power to not the success of the stream. By the sound of it, he was making more than average.

cutecummer: he has the prettiest dick i've ever seen 🥺 sl0ppy2nds: he sounds so hot! he's never been this vocal 😍 playboi_thottie tipped shyboi_3358 $35.00 miami_milf tipped shyboi_3358 $150.00 thiskenswallows: that girl must've been a great fuck to make him this feral bbydoll88: thiskenswallows lucky girl 🥲

Izuku's cock was begging for release. His balls ached something awful, and he knew he was close. He could feel it in his stomach, his abs contracting and tingling as the inside of the fleshlight rubbed against his sensitive tip. He chased the feeling, letting his head fall back, and his hand fall from his face to double-fist the handle.

He held the toy still and fucked up, up, up, faster with each passing second, ignoring the burn of his thighs and core. More, he thought. more, more, more.

"S-shit! Ohhh fuck meee...fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuck me, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!"

PING!PING!PING!PING!PING!PING!PING!PING!

Hot streams of cum filled the clear capsule and dripped down the underside of his cock. His legs shook as the tightness in his chest from his erratic breaths was released. He took deep breaths to alleviate the soreness, occasionally fucking into the fleshlight, enjoying the sinful tingle until he grew soft.

The beanbag was covered in sweat and cum, squeaking at the slightest movement. He fucked himself out so good he nearly fell asleep right there. Thankfully, viewers wouldn't allow for that.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked at the display screen as comments and tips rolled in. He never got the hang of ending the stream. It always felt awkward, but he knew it was one-sided. He blushed reading the comments that popped up, praising him, begging him for more, proclaiming their lustful fantasies about him. He smiled and chuckled hoarsely.

He grabbed the water bottle he kept close by and took some much-needed sips. Before ending the live he thanked his viewers, acknowledging the ones who tipped. After signing off, he began cleaning the mess he made when the notification for his earnings and views popped up.

Halting his actions, Izuku looked at his display screen and nearly tripped over his feet.

You had 2,196 viewers and earned $3,695 in earnings. Congratulations, shyboi_3358!

It was the most viewers and the most money he's ever made in a single live. Someone must have boosted his stream. It was hard to break four digits in one stream, though he's done it a few times before during his two-hour streams. But to make over one thousand dollars for a thirty-minute stream was only possible for seasoned and highlighted streamers.

"Holy shit."

The thought of that many people watching him seemed scarier than the usual few hundred. Still, the money was hard to ignore. Once his chair was cleaned, he took a nice, cold shower to prepare for bed. He tried not to think too much about the stream. It was most likely the algorithm throwing him a bone. His views would go back to normal the next time he streamed.

They didn't go back to normal.

Quite the opposite. Since that stream, his views have doubled, even tripled. Two weeks passed, and since that night, he became a featured streamer bestowed the ever-sought-after purple check. User shyboi_3358 was a verified Camcity content creator. Being verified came with its perks, and the money he was making filled his pockets deep, but holy hell was he in over his head!

The goal was never to become a popular streamer. It was the antithesis of the low profile he was trying to maintain. His risk of getting discovered increased immensely. True, he still hid his face, and besides his freckles, he had no defining marks on his body, but the threat was still there.

It started to weigh on him, the idea of quitting crossing his mind. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel. He had enough money saved to comfortably sail through the semester. Surely he could find a job and earn enough in time to pay for next semester. Better to quit while you're ahead, right? The last thing Izuku needed was a dreaded "this you?" text from a family member or a friend.

And so, shyboi_3358 retired at his peak one foggy September morning. Dare he say it felt good. Sure, the money will be missed, and he can't deny the thrill of it all had become a sexual hobby of his. But to no longer stress about lying to his loved ones or worry about them somehow finding out had him walking a little bit straighter in the world.

It was Monday, one of his busier class days. Most seniors had Mondays and Fridays off, but dumb freshman Izuku added a minor in visual arts so he had double the classes. He was on his way to one of those classes when an unseen assailant hooked onto his backpack and pulled him into an empty classroom.

The door clicked behind him and the motion-sensitive lights flickered on in time for him to see his kidnapper hop onto a table.

"Miss me?"

He was stunned. "(y/n)?"

"Last time I checked," she smiled.

Miss her? It's been two weeks, of course he missed her! Every other thought he had was dedicated to her. He was practically obsessed. There were two things he regretted about that night: not having her sit on his face and forgetting to ask for her number.

He asked Mina about you the following Monday after the kickback. He'd run into her on his way to the gym and wondered if she'd seen you recently. She did a few hours earlier. He could have asked Mina for her number then, but that would open up a conversation he didn't want to have. Even mentioning you in passing stirred up questions like "Why, have you seen her? Did you like her? What did you guys talk about all night?" He didn't need Mina to tell all their friends he had a thing for the new girl. With his luck, they'd jinx it.

"Hey." 

"Hi." Her voice was as soft and velvety as he remembered.

"I missed you," he admitted.

Her smile grew, sighing a dreamy hum as she breathed out from her nose. "It's nice to be missed." 

"Did you miss me?" He asked. 

She bit her lip and rolled her eyes to the ceiling in thought, “Mmm…” She shook her hand so-so, her playful grin dimpling her cheeks. 

Izuku chuckled, "Oh wow, really?" His hands slid up her thighs, scrunching her mesh skirt and exposing her silky legs. She didn’t protest. Their eyes locked in place, wordlessly staring each other down as his hand traveled up and under. He slipped his right hand between her thighs, feeling her soft mound protected by a thin mesh thong. She was wet. 

"Yeah,” he smirked. “You missed me."

(y/n)’s eyes lowered to his lips like an invitation, and he gladly took it, leaning down to taste the sugar of her lip balm. One hand weaved through his curls while the other held her steady against the force of the kiss. It was heated and sexy. He pulled her waist to the table’s edge so she could feel him against her. Izuku hummed and sighed, his need growing more evident between them. He could spend hours just kissing her and be perfectly spent. Their heads twisted and turned at different angles, searching for more of each other. He had half the mind to take her right then and there in the empty classroom, but the notion ceased once she parted their lips.

"You busy?" She panted. 

He had a class in five minutes and another later that day.

"No."

(Y/n) grinned and hopped from the table. "Walk with me."

Izuku watched her grab her bag and sling it across her shoulder as she headed out the door. Delayed, he gathered his bag from the floor and followed after her. Hell, he followed her all the way to the amusement park on the pier.

This crazy, beautiful, amazing girl took him on a surprise date to the boardwalk and he enjoyed every minute of it. He'd forgotten how much fun he could have sober. They had the time of their life! They played carnival games, saw a pirate show, rode a bunch of rollercoasters, ate at a nice restaurant by the water, and had a little fun of their own at the top of the Ferris Wheel. If he wasn't already in love with her before, by the end of the night he certainly was.

"I had a great time," said (y/n). They were standing in front of the door to her on-campus apartment.

"Me too," he said honestly. "Do you think I can get your number this time?"

"Why? So you can add me to your roster?"

"No roster, just you."

She liked that answer. She held out her hand and he fished his phone from his pocket to hand to her.

"This way you can text me when you want to go out, instead of lurking in vacant classrooms to kidnap me when I walk by," he teased as she typed in her number.

"First of all, I wasn't lurking, I happened to see you walk by. Secondly, I didn't kidnap you," she protested. "You came willingly."

"Sure I did."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and returned his phone. He immediately texted her and heard her phone vibrate in her bag. She took it out and entered the new number under his name.

"So, did I make it on your roster?"

She nodded. "You're in the top five for sure."

Top five?

"What—"

She kissed him before he could complain, effectively silencing his thoughts. "Goodnight," she whispered.

"Goodnight."

She smiled when she pulled away, turning to open the door and step inside. "Take care of Mumu," she insisted as she faced him again, referring to the giant stuffed pig he'd won for her at the park. She pressed him to win it for her only to realize she had no room for it in her apartment, so she asked him to keep it for her at his.

"I will," he promised.

They waved goodbye until she closed the door and separated them both. It was nearly ten o'clock by the time he got home and he was exhausted. As great as his day had been, it wore him out. He immediately slipped from his clothes and into the shower. When he finally slipped under his covers he put his phone on the charger and saw he had a text from (y/n).

"Cute," he thought. He texted back.

He was prepared to fall blissfully to sleep, his chest warm and gooey with newfound connection when a voicemail notification banner lowered on his screen before he could turn it off. The number looked familiar like it came from the school.

Clicking on the banner, he opened the phone app and played the voice message. A distorted woman's voice came through the speakers.

"Hi, this is the Yuei University Bursar's Office trying to contact Izuku Midoriya. It appears you have an unpaid bill due by this Friday. If it is not paid by Friday at 5:00 p.m., there will be an additional late fee. If you need financial aid, please contact the Financial Aid Office. Have a good day."

Confused, Izuku closed the app and opened his browser to check his school account. Lo and behold, a four thousand dollar bill was left unpaid.

"The fuck?"

It was there, plain as day in large black numbers.

Payment Due: $4,207.62

He clicked on his account summary to see if there was some sort of mistake. Dread set in the minute he realized there was indeed a mistake, only it was his fault.

At the beginning of the semester, he had opted to try the meal plan. The university lets you use the meal plan for two weeks before allowing you to change your plan or opt out of it entirely free of charge. He figured he could take advantage of the meal plan for the first couple of weeks, opt out by the deadline, and pack his own lunch for the rest of the semester. His mistake was that he forgot. The deadline was two weeks ago and the meal plan cost $3,920.00. Add that to the parking pass he bought and you get $4,207.62.

That was money Izuku didn't have. Between rent, bills, and his empty fridge, he was screwed. How could such an amazing day turn to shit so quickly? He could feel a migraine coming on. What was he going to do? He could pay the balance with the money he saved up, but he won't have enough for everything else. It will take weeks for him to land a job and bills and rent were due in one week. Unless...

Like the green goblin mask called to Norman Osborne, the camera he used to stream called to him, mocked him.

"You need me," it said. "Come back to me. Use me. Turn me on."

Was he really going to go back? He only stopped because it was getting too risky. Yet, his popularity on Camcity.com is the only thing that can save him. He'll have to do it. He had to stream again.

One month later...

Maybe he was thinking too much. After all, what are the chances that someone he knows would stumble upon his cam videos? It's not like cam sites are the mainstream form of sex media. It was pretty niche. You had to be a special kind of pervert, a specific kind of horny to seek out cam sites. He doubted anyone he knew would be so depraved. He could stream all he liked, as long as he kept his face out of frame and changed the pitch of his voice, he could go on undetected and untraceable.

There was no need to worry. How does the saying go? "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." He had a system, and it worked: whore yourself online for a quick buck and watch your financial problems disappear. He liked this system and he had fun doing it. He could understand why others might not reach this point. Their self-proclaimed virtue wouldn't stand for it. But he wasn't born with that stigma. If society were more accepting and he was sure his family wouldn't disown him he would do this openly without shame. It was just too good.

His high libido and endless chase for sexual gratification in its many forms worked in his favor. It made him money. Like, a lot of money. Like, he thinks he entered a new tax bracket kind of money. It was the ultimate cheat code. Not many people can make a living off porn and cam sites alone. Thank God he wasn't one of those people.

All that crap about finally being free of the burden of his secret was bullshit, his mind trying to cope. Yes he hated secrets and he hated lying, he was awful at it, but like every great politician, he was willing to lie and dance around as many questions as he had to to keep money in his pockets.

This isn't greed, reader. Understand that it's pure survival that draws Izuku to this scandalous profession. Yuei University was one of the best schools in the country, and tuition didn't come cheap. There was a housing crisis that doubled rent, inflation, and most importantly, her, his perfect girlfriend whom he would sell his soul, let alone his body to provide for. Any excuse to take her out and spend money on her, he'd make.

She wanted her nails done? He handled it. Hair? "Here baby, there's $1,000, send me pics when it's done."

"Babe, aren't these shoes to die for?" His card is already in her hand.

Her stomach couldn't even rumble around him without him ordering her favorite food on Uber Eats. That's just how he was. He didn't know it until they started dating. He never had a girlfriend before to spoil. But now that he did, he wanted to make sure he had the money to keep doing it. All the more reason to keep shyboi_3358 alive.

One month. It's been one month since their first date, nearly two months since they first met, and two weeks since they made it exclusive. On the outside looking in it may have seemed like the two were moving fast, especially for two twenty-something college students in an age where being nonchalant was seemingly imperative, but to that he said, "If you knew what it felt like to be with her, you'd never want to let her go either."

He was absolutely smitten, and so was she. The two couldn't keep their hands off one another. Call it puppy love, call it the honeymoon phase, he called it burying his fingers in the prettiest pussy on the planet.

"i-izu...stop...i have to go." (y/n) whined, her grip on his wrist contending her words.

"just one more minute..." He muttered.

His body pressed up against hers, trapping her between the cool glass of his balcony door and his massive form. Rain slicked down the screen, surrounding her in drops of dew. The heat from their bodies procured condensation, fogging the glass and causing the smallest squeaks whenever her body moved and trembled. Her hands wrapped around his torso to keep herself steady.

"m'gonna be so late," she sighed.

"cum for me and i'll let you go."

Her previously shut eyes fluttered open, locking with dark emeralds. His freckled face was tinted pink, warm and blushing from his arousal. She could feel him pressing against her thigh. She wanted to do something about it but he wouldn't let her. They both knew if she did there was no way she was getting out of his apartment.

"have a...have a test next week...today's the review—a-ah!"

His long fingers curled up and rubbed against her sensitive walls. Her helpless mewls drove him mad with want.

"then be a good girl," he said, lowering his head to press soft kisses on her temple and cheek. "let me see it, princess...let me feel it."

She sat most of her body weight on his leg between her thighs and spread her legs wider for him, allowing his fingers to slide in deeper. He moaned upon hearing the slick wet sounds of her pussy. He angled his wrist and moved his hand faster. He's gotten better over time, and he was already good to begin with. He knew exactly how to make her tick. He could make her cum in fifteen seconds if he wanted to.

His fingers traversed the lush channel of her cunt more times than he could count. One touch here, a rub there, a couple of flicks that way and she's sliming and contracting around his index and middle finger with ease. But where's the fun in that? He'd rather play with her like he was now, enjoying her pretty moans and the soft warmth of her fleshy walls as she comes undone in the palm of his hand.

Her hips bucked into his hand and her nails dug into his back. She came so prettily that he came on his own without being touched. He'd never done that before, but he was so aroused that the sound of her climax set him off, his hips jutting against her thigh as an orgasm shot through his body. A guttural moan of her name fell from his lips and his hand slammed against the glass as he steadied himself.

(Y/n)'s soft lips kissed up his neck and under his jaw, her hands caressed his sides as she muttered his name. He took her in his arms, lifting her in the air and locking her legs around his waist. He chased her lips, skipping the formalities, and pushed his tongue into her mouth. They shared a slow passionate kiss, completely lost in each other. (Y/n) pulled away and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"I have to go," she whispered reluctantly.

A low groan came from his chest. "I know."

He gently set her down on the ground but kept his hands attached to her waist. "Want me to drive you? It's still raining pretty bad."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay, I'll take the bus. Besides, you said you were up all night working yesterday, you should rest."

Work...right.

"Okay," he agreed, not because he wanted to but because there was no point in arguing with her. She pecked his lips and scurried off to put her jacket and shoes on at the door.

Izuku turned his head to the balcony, a small smirk dawned on his features at the ghostly print of (y/n)'s back and ass accompanied by his hand mark left on the glass.

"Hey, babe?" Her voice pulled his attention.

As he turned his head, she threw something in his direction. Luckily, his quick reflexes allowed him to catch it. He looked down at his hand and saw her balled up panties. They were white with small red hearts and a small red bow on the front.

Heat rose to his face. "What's this for?"

"Can't wear them now, they're soaked thanks to you. Wash 'em for me will ya?" She smiled sweetly.

Before he could even stutter out a response about how she shouldn't wear a maxi dress with no underwear when it's 68 degrees and raining, she zipped up her cropped puffer jacket and blew him a kiss goodbye as she walked out the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow, love you, bye!" The door closed behind her.

And he had her panties.

He stared blankly at the soiled fabric, his cock growing stiff. A wave of shame washed over him. Was he really this excited over a pair of wet panties?

"Have some dignity, man," he muttered to himself and went into his room to put her undies in his hamper.

A cold shower. That's what he needed. Jerking off to her scent on his fingers is one thing, but to be a full-on panty sniffer? Well, even he had his limits. He would never stoop so low. Absolutely not. There was no way in hell. None.

"shyboi_3358 goes crazy over girlfriend's panties! camcity stream 10/24/2023"

'Interesting...'

It was late at night. (Y/n) was laying back in her bed, vibrator in tow, incognito tab open, browsing the internet for some reliable porn. The past week had been stressful to say the least. Midterms. You know, the time in the middle of the semester that reminds students that college isn't just a fun place where you live with your friends and drink margaritas.

You have to study and actually retain the information your professors teach. It's all fun in games until the professor you haven't paid attention to the whole time informs you that the midterm is twenty-five percent of your final grade. Now you have to spend the next week trying to figure out what the fuck a metamorphic rock is so you can save your already teetering grade. And to do that you have to sacrifice all the things you hold dear, like your social life, weed, and spending time with your beautiful green-haired boyfriend.

She hadn't seen Izuku since last Thursday when she left his apartment in a hurry to get to class on time. That was five days ago. They texted and facetimed constantly, but she couldn't help but still miss his presence and his touch, especially tonight. It has rained nearly every day in the past week and tonight was no different.

It wasn't like she was complaining. She loved the rain, especially in the fall when it's paired with a nice October chill. But it was weather like this that made her think of Izuku and how badly she wished to be curled up in his arms watching Gilmore Girls or Twilight.

It also made her think of when he finger fucked her against the window in his apartment last week. That's why she laid on her bed in nothing but her underwear and Izuku's hoodie she promised to return to him weeks ago. (He's never getting it back.)

It still smelled like him. Expensive cologne and his natural musk. Heat pooled at her center. He was just so perfect. But her perfect boyfriend and his talented fingers weren't around so she had no choice but to finish herself off.

She wanted to put her vibrator to good use. Usually, she would close her eyes and relive the moments they had together, but her brain was fried from all the studying she'd been doing that whenever she closed her eyes she saw diagrams of divergent and convergent boundaries. Why the fuck did she take Geology?!

So, she moved to the next best thing: porn. No need to think if you watch, right? But the poor girl was so picky, not sure of what she was in the mood for she spent ten minutes looking for the perfect video. Ameture? Not really. Hentai? Not a fan. Lesbian? Next time for sure. She scrolled and scrolled until a thumbnail caught her eye. It was a man with smooth ivory skin sitting on the edge of a bed. He had a nice build, she could tell through the black graphic tee whore. The reason it caught her eye was because it was an All Might t-shirt.

"Heh," she laughed to herself. "Izuku has that same shirt."

Looking closely, he had a similar build as him too. She snorted. "Wouldn't that be funny."

As in, wouldn't that be funny if the guy in the video was actually Izuku? It'd be hilarious! Too bad it wasn't. It was just a coincidence. A useful one at that.

The title revealed to her that the video was a reposted recording of a camboy livestream from a few days ago. The engagement was pretty high, over three hundred thousand views and a ninety-six percent up-vote.

'This guy must be pretty popular,' she thought.

Thinking that his slight resemblance to her boyfriend would help relieve her aching core, she clicked on the video and held her phone close to her face.

The video started with the man walking into frame, and sitting on the bed. Just like the thumbnail he had on a black All Might t-shirt and matching black running shorts. Even his legs reminded her of Izuku's. They were just as long and his thighs were just as muscular. By the looks of it, he was already hard, the outline of his dick curved to the right, flat below his waistband.

He palmed himself over his shorts, his breathing growing heavier. Soft gasps and grunts spilled from his lips, which was just about all she could see of his face. Echos of what she discerned was the live stream chat notifications sporadically chimed.

The man gripped his length, allowing a proper reference for the girth and length of his dick. He was as thick as he was big, his already large hand only encapsulated two-thirds of his length. He hissed, teasingly shaking his member.

'He's pretty hot,' she thought, feeling herself get wetter as she watched

She felt bad for thinking so. Somehow it felt wrong now that she had a boyfriend. But it was only because of the faceless camboy's resemblance to her boyfriend that she even found him appealing.

Her hand searched for her vibrator at her side and brought it over her panties. She put it on its lowest setting, not wanting to hasten her climax. The video was fifteen minutes long and she planned to watch all of it.

The man on the screen shifted in his spot on the bed, leaning back and spreading his legs. He pushed the hem of his shirt back, exposing his chiseled stomach. 'Izuku's abs were like that.' She increased the speed of her vibrator. A soft moan hummed in her throat as she applied pressure on her clit.

To her suprise, and her excitement, the man began pulling down his shorts, just enough to reveal his leaking cock straining against a pair of frilly, white, and red heart-patterned panties. He was wearing women's panties. Not only that, he was wearing women's panties that looked eerily similar to a pair she owned.

"Oh my god," she said aloud as she shot upright in her bed.

He stroked himself, the feeling of the soft fabric rubbing against him brought him obvious pleasure by the sounds he was making. (Y/n) couldn't tear her eyes away. The longer she stared, the more she considered the camboy in the video might actually be her beloved boyfriend.

"There's no way," she tried to reason.

So what this guy's torso reminded her of Izuku? Most guys these days were gym rats with impressive bodies. That didn't mean it was him! And sure, the panties he wore looked like a pair of panties she had but they were in her drawer—

They weren't in her drawer. She forgot. That fast she forgot that she left those panties at Izuku's the last time she saw him. Which was last week. On October 23rd. If that wasn't enough to convince her what she saw over the next couple of minutes would.

He shed his shorts, and his languid pumps along his base grew more fervent. His hisses and grunts turned into airy moans and soft murmurs. He even sounded like him. She's earned enough of Izuku's moans to know when she's hearing them. He slipped off the panties and brought them to his face. She could hear him sniff and sigh in satisfaction, his hand increasing its speed on his glistening cock.

(Y/n)'s face burned. He was sniffing the panties. Her panties.

"Those can't be my panties," she laughed nervously, not fully confident. "I'm tripping. This isn't him. His room doesn't even look like this!"

But when the man lifted the bottom of his shirt to hold it up between his teeth, his freckled chest looked just like Izuku's. He had a silver chain necklace and a matching bar nipple piercing on his left nipple, just like Izuku. His dick which was now wrapped in red-heart patterned panties was pink and curved upwards just like Izuku's. And—wait a minute...was that—

"MUMU?!"

There, in the background, a reflection of a full-body mirror leaning against the wall showed none other than the oversized stuffed pig Izuku had won for her on their first date, Mumu.

There was no denying it. She had all the evidence right there. The anonymous camboy dubbed shyboi_3358, was none other than her boyfriend, Izuku Midoriya.

Two days went by with (y/n)'s newfound knowledge hanging over her head. She chose not to confront Izuku. How do you confront your boyfriend about being a camboy anyway? Do you get angry? Do you shame him? Do you dance around in a clown costume singing "i know your secret, your dirty little secret!"?

She didn't want to do any of those things. She was upset that he didn't tell her, but she wasn't angry or disgusted by it. The last thing she wanted him to think was that he couldn't trust her, or that she would leave him for being a camboy.

Hell, if he'd told her up front she'd offer to go the extra mile and make anonymous videos with him. That's how much she didn't care. They never talked about work, aside from the fact that they do it, so she could understand why he never brought it up. Maybe if she asked, he would be honest and tell her, and she wouldn't feel so weird about the whole situation.

And that's exactly what she did.

"Izu, what do you do for work?"

It was the day before Halloween. (Y/n) showed up to Izuku's apartment unannounced. He was in the middle of a stream when she came knocking at his front door. Izuku's heart dropped to his ass and he frantically shut down his computer like a kid who was about to get caught watching porn.

This particular stream was Halloween-themed and he was dressed up in a headless horseman costume and a vibrating cock ring. He undressed with a quickness that would put The Flash to shame. He stuffed his costume into the closet with all his other toys and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He left the guest bedroom which he used as his streaming room and locked it behind him to greet the person at the door.

The last person he expected to see was his girlfriend. She showed up all big eyes and pouty-lipped and told him she missed him so much she decided to come visit him after taking her test as a reward.

He missed her too, so of course he let her in. They were sitting on the couch and watching The Vampire Diaries when suddenly she asked that dreaded question, completely out of the blue with no warning. He was completely unprepared.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean, you never really explained to me what you do for work," she said. "Must be something good if you can afford to live here on your own."

"I freelance." He spat out his automated response.

"You freelance?" She repeated.

"Yeah."

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes. "You're telling me that you make all your money by freelancing?"

Why did he suddenly feel like he was being interrogated?

"Yes?" He didn't mean for it to come out like a question. "You can make a decent amount of money freelancing. You know, Mina's cousin is a freelance writer and she's made thousands of dollars a month writing articles for different companies and websites."

Now he was just rambling.

"Is that what you do?" She questioned. " Write articles for different companies and websites?"

"No." Good, he thought. If he'd said yes she would have asked to read an article of his that didn't exist.

"No? Then what do you do?"

"Make videos." Not far from the truth so it sounds believable.

"What kinds of videos?"

Oh shit. he didn't think that far.

"Well, I don't make them, I edit them. For other people." Perfect save!

"Oh, you mean for like YouTube and TikTok?"

Izuku nodded. "Sure, yeah like that!"

(Y/n) hummed, seemingly satisfied with his answers, and returned her focus back to the TV. He didn't notice that he was tense until he felt his body relax and sink into the couch. He felt bad for lying, even more than usual because it was her. Eventually, he will tell her the truth. But for now, he was thankful that she believed him.

'He's a shit liar,' thought (y/n).

On one hand, she thought that was a good thing. It meant that he didn't lie often. But that didn't change the fact that he lied to her face instead of telling her the truth. She hated that. She hated lying. Most of all, she hated that he didn't trust her.

"You know what I feel like doing?" She spoke after a while.

"Hmm?"

"Why don't we go to the movies?" She suggested. "Didn't you say you wanted to see Five Nights At Freddy's?"

Izuku smiled. "I thought you weren't into Five Nights at Freddy's."

"I'm not a huge nerd like you, but I've watched Markiplier's videos," she corrected.

"Okay, let me take a shower and we can go." He kissed her forehead and got up to go to his room.

She waited until she heard the water in the shower run and his door close before she moved from the couch. She had her eye on the guest bedroom door since she walked in. She asked him about it before and he told her he used it for storage, which is why it was always locked. Now she suspected that it was the unfamiliar room she saw in the video.

If he didn't want to tell her, then she'd have to find out for herself. She walked up to the door and jiggled the handle. Still locked. She cursed under her breath and tried looking around for a key. She checked in the kitchen junk drawer and in the closet but came up with nothing. She considered looking in his room, but that was too risky. She was about to give up when she looked at the top of the door frame.

'I wonder...'

She reached her hand up to swipe across the top of the door frame with her fingers and—clink!

A metal key pin fell onto the vinyl floor. 'Bingo'

She picked the key pin off the floor and stuck it into the keyhole. After jiggling it around and turning it to the left, she heard a satisfying click and opened the door.

It was exactly what she thought. It was the room in the video. A queen-sized bed sat in front of a desk with multiple monitors and a video camera. There was the mirror that faced Mumu, who was tucked in a corner next to a huge beanbag chair. By the left side of the bed was a closet that was left slightly ajar.

She moved over to the closet and opened it, her mouth falling open in shock. The closet was full of toys and fetish wear. There were handcuffs, ropes, dildos, butt plugs, various fuck toys and so many other things she wasn't familiar with. She didn't know her boyfriend was this experimental. It was kind of a turn-on.

(Y/n) noticed a muffled whirring sound and looked down at the bundle of clothes at her feet. The clothes seemed to be a costume of some sort, a vampire by the looks of it, but on top of it was a pink vibrating cock ring. She picked it up and examined it. Her cheeks grew hot as she imagined Izuki with his hands tied behind his back and his dripping cock red and overstimulated by the cock ring.

"What are you doing?"

The (h/c) haired girl jumped at the sound of Izuku's deep voice.She whirled around to find him standing there, damp, with nothing but his towel wrapped around his waist.

"How did you get in here?" He asked. He sounded upset.

"Found the key," she said.

He took a step forward. "Why were you looking for the key?"

(Y/n) sighed. "I know about the cam videos."

Izuku's eyes widened. "What?"

"I saw a video and I knew it was you. That's why I asked you about your job because I wanted you to tell me on your own. But you lied. So, I decided to see it for myself," she explained. "But now I'm realizing how incredibly invasive and wrong that was."

Izuku was stunned. Everything from his chest up turned red and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. His legs were shaking and he buried his face in his hands. "Oh my god."

He was overwhelmed. He was angry that she would go behind his back instead of confronting him about it. He was embarrassed that she discovered his secret perversions, and he was scared for what would happen next. Would she leave him? Tell all their friends? Call him a freak, a pervert, a slut?

"You should have told me you were into this kind of stuff. We could take turns using this stuff on each other," she joked in an attempt to lighten the darkening mood. It didn't work.

He laid on his back, his hands still covering his face. (Y/n)'s heart ached for him. She could see all the thoughts swirling in his head and she wanted to silence them. Carefully, she walked up to the edge of the bed and crawled on top of him. She left gentle kisses up his chest and neck, moving along his jaw and finally ending at his lips.

Izuku's hands fell from his face and he looked up at her. Her eyes were soft and kind, with a playful glint sparkling behind them.

"Are you mad?" She pouted.

He didn't respond, making her pout even more. She leaned down to kiss him again. He kissed her back and she took that as a sign. She licked his bottom lip for access to his mouth, which he kindly granted. Her tongue dove into his mouth, tasting his familiar wet cavern. It was minty and she knew that he'd just finished brushing his teeth. His hands lifted from his sides to finally touch her, traveling up her thighs that straddled his waist and to her ass. She smiled against his lips.

"Don't be mad." she muttered as she slipped her hand between their bodies.

The sudden jolt of reverberation trembled at his loins. (Y/n) had rid him of his towel and pressed the cock ring against his balls. Izuku choked out a moan, his hips involuntarily bucking and squirming at the vibrating toy's mercy.

"I was only teasing..." She told him. "forgive me?"

She pressed a button on the side of the vibrator and increased its speed. Izuku hissed, his green eyes struggling to stay trained on her. She looked at him from above, admiring his features. He looked so beautiful in this way. His cheeks were flushed, and the color against his freckles reminded her of a strawberry. His lips were slightly tinted and glossed by her lipgloss, turning them pouty and pink. His green curls were damp and sticking to his face which was scrunched up into an expression of pleasure and frustration.

She felt him harden between her legs. A cocky grin traversed her features and she laughed. "I think you're forgiving me—"

(Y/n) gasped as her body was flipped around, switching her postion. Her back pressed against the bed while Izuku hovered over her. Her hands were pinned above her head with great force and she could feel the air in the room change.

"You're so fucking nosey."

Her heart sank. Izuku's voice was low and threatening. The glare he was giving her turned her blood to ice, raising goosebumps on her skin. This was her first time seeing him like this. She always wondered what he would look like when he was mad, but her imagination was nothing compared to the reality of it. Izuku was so kind and even-tempered, it was easy to forget how scary he is on paper. Right now he didn't look like her sweet Izuku. He did, however, look like a severely pissed off muscular, 6'5'', two hundred and fifty pound man.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to snoop?" He spat.

(Y/n) frowned. "I wasn't trying to snoop! You were the one keeping secrets—"

"So what?" He yelled. "That's my right, isn't it? To choose what parts of my life to share with others and when to do it!" His hands moved to aggressively lift her shirt over her head. "But not to you. No...you're selfish...and greedy. What parts I gave you weren't enough. You just had to have all of me. Had to go looking for it yourself."

Next to go were her pants and her bra, leaving her in a pair of baby blue panties..

"What are y—"

"Shut up!" His hand roughly grabbed her face, painfully smushing the sides of her cheeks and forcing her to look him in his blazing green eyes. She whimpered, heat pooling between her legs.

"I'm warning you," he growled. "From now on, you only speak when spoken to. Nod if you understand."

She gave him an obedient nod. He seemed satisfied with her compliance and loosened his grip on her cheeks.

"Good girl."

He collected her hands, and placed them above her head and held them together at the wrist with his left. His right hand found the cock ring, still on and vibrating, and held it down against her clit over her panties.

"So you saw me, huh?" He grunted as he fought her squirming hips. "What did you see?"

(Y/n) whined, unable to focus with the vibrator drumming on her clit. Izuku pressed the button and increased the speed to its highest setting.

"Answer me," he ordered.

"I...I s-saw a video of you jerking off with my panties," she sputtered out.

He wasn't expecting that. The tips of his ears turned beet red. "You saw that?"

Deep down he knew that someone out there would be recording his streams and reposting them on porn sites without his consent. But he felt the odds of someone he knew actually clicking on it and correctly discerning it was him were so low he decided not to dwell on it. But of course, that one in a trillion odds would be his girlfriend stumbling upon the only stream where he masturbated with her panties.

"Did you like it?" He decided to ask because he was curious, and part of him wanted her validation.

"Yes!" She admitted. "Seeing you wear my panties...getting so worked up over them...It was so hot!"

Izuku smirked. "It turned you on?" His finger pushed the vibrator in circles around her throbbing bud.

"Y-Yes," she strained against her moans. "It made me feel good that I had such an effect on you...that just the scent and feel of my panties could drive you crazy."

Her words seemed to set him off. He discarded the cock ring and pushed the crotch of her panties to the side. He slipped his length over her pussy, tucking it beneath her panties.

"You drive me crazy all right." He steadily bucked his hips, sliding his cock between her cotton underwear and her wet folds. "Can't you feel how bad I want you? Even now, when I'm pissed off and embarrassed, you still make me want you."

"Izu—mmph!" Izuku slapped his hand over her mouth and hushed her.

"You were right," he told her, his voice returning to his gentler register. "I do forgive you," he panted, his slow strokes teasingly rubbing against her clit. "Truth is, I've forgiven you for everything you could possibly do to me already. I can forgive you for snooping and I can forgive you for teasing. But I haven't seen you in days and I have to take out my frustration and pent-up tension somehow."

(Y/n) watched as his features softened and a sly grin flashed his teeth.

"Asshole!"

Izuku let out an airy chuckle at the glare she gave him and kissed her cheek. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck. His hands reached to knead her breasts as his mouth worked to suck and lick her erect nipples. Her back arched and the softest mewls came from her throat.

"You smell so good," He muttered against her skin as he breathed in her rose body oil and vanilla-scented soap.

His lips left her breasts and traveled down her stomach until he was face-to-face with her center. "You smell good here too. So sweet..." His tongue darted out to lick a stripe from the bottom of her pussy to the top.

He hooked his arms around her thighs and threw her legs over his shoulder. When it came to eating pussy, Izuku didn't dilly-dally. He went straight for the good stuff. Encasing his mouth around the whole of her pussy, he lapped at her sopping cunt like a dehydrated hound. He hummed against her folds, moaning as his tongue thrust into her hole. She'd squeeze around the fatty muscle, her guttural moans igniting the fire in his stomach. The tip of his nose brushed against her rose-colored pearl and nestled into her trimmed triangular landing strip.

"I'll never get over how good you taste...how good you smell," he said.

He kissed her swollen pussy lips, sucking them into his mouth and releasing them with a satisfying pop. Her hips bucked and twisted, both urging for his tongue and scurrying away from it. His grip around her thighs kept her pelvis steady as he wrapped his mouth around her clit, slurping and swirling his tongue with great skill and tact. His hand unfurled from her thigh to insert her two favorite fingers.

He assaulted her pussy at top speed, angling his finger up to rub against her g-spot. It wasn't long before he felt her tighten around his fingers. She grew more liberal with her moans, her face contorted and her chest heaved. Izuku watched her from between her legs, not wanting to miss a single second of her undoing.

He tore his mouth from her clit and curled his fingers, finger-fucking her into her orgasm. "That's it...cum for me pretty girl," he cooed.

She did almost instantaneously. Her legs squeezed around his head and trembled uncontrollably. He slipped his hand from her hole and replaced it with his tongue so he could clean up the juices. He lapped her clean and relished in the taste of her cum.

(Y/n) didn't even have time to recover from her climax before her pulsating clit was attacked by the vibrator once again. She yelped and squirmed, but Izuku wouldn't relent. He only pressed down on her sensitive nerve and kept it steady.

He climbed back up to hover over her, his face was only inches away from hers. He wanted to look at her more closely. He smiled down at her, his silver chain dangled in her face and tickled her nose.

"Oh, is it too much? Want me to stop?" He taunted her.

Tears welled up in her waterline. "P-please," she begged. "it hurts!"

She begged him to make it stop, but he ignored her pleas. He took her discarded panties and stuffed them in her mouth, muffling her cries.

"I know, baby," he lilted. "But it doesn't seem like you have much respect for my boundaries. Why should I respect yours?"

Tears streamed down her face and real sobs jerked from her chest. She could feel the pain turn into pressure in her stomach. Her cunt tightened around nothing and grew sore. Her senses were completely overwhelmed with pain and pleasure. She was begging for release, either for him to stop, or for the second wave to finally crash. All the while, her sadistic lover watched, with a grin on his face.

"God..." He caressed her face with his free hand and marveled at the sight of her. "You look so pretty when you cry."

He dipped his head into the crook of her neck to nip and suck at her tender skin. He rubbed the cock ring against her clit, helping her pain crossover to pleasure. The familiar knot in her stomach tightened as Izuku captured her frantic breaths in his mouth. She choked on her muffled moans and clasped her hand around his wrist. She squeezed him so hard his ham started to tingle from lack of blood circulation. The knot in her stomach snapped, and her body spasmed beneath him. He removed the vibrator from her clit for good this time and held her in his arms. He hushed her silent sobs and sniffles and peppered kisses on her face, muttering things like, "you did so good for me" and "I'm sorry."

When her sniffles grew few and far between, he left a final kiss on her forehead and moved from the bed. She was too weak to move, but could hear him rummaging through the closet.

"Y'know," he spoke to her. "When I first met you, I thought you were like a tiger. So powerful...so sexy...I was proud to be yours. I wanted you to use me like that all the time...still do."

She felt his weight dip the bed once again, but she couldn't see him. Her gaze was stuck looking up at the cieling. She heard rustling...the sound of a jingle bell...and the sound of a bottle cap snapping open.

Suddenly, she felt him push her legs up to her chest. In her daze, she couldn't react quick enough to understand what was going on. It wasn't until she felt something metal and round coated in a cool, gel substance prodding at her anus that she accumulated the energy to lift her head from the bed and look down.

Lying on the bed next to her was a pair of fuzzy white cat ears and a pink collar with a bell on it. The round metal thing poking at her ass was a matching fluffy cat tail butt plug. Izuku attempted to push the probe through her virgin hole and she yelped, her muscles tensing and denying access.

"Relax," he ordered.

Blood rushed to her face and her heartbeat thundered against her chest. Despite her apprehension, she complied and laid back down.

"What was I saying? Oh right. A tiger. Well, you can be like that. I like it when you are. But sometimes...sometimes you're like this."

She relaxed as best she could as Izuku pushed the foreign object inside her. It was odd being stretched in that way, but she dealt with it anyway. It was in within seconds. Then, crawled on top of her and slid the cat ears onto her head.

"Sometimes you're small. Sometimes you're weak...and you want me to take over. Sometimes you want to submit to me. And the tigress..."

Finally, he adorned her neck with the pink bell collar.

"Becomes a kitten," he smirked. "And I like that too."

He sat up to look at his work. From his point of view, she looked absolutely adorable. A confused and fucked out glare covered her face, but the collar around her neck and the white cat ears nestled perfectly in her messed hair made it hard to take seriously.

"You look so cute," he swooned. "You were made for this. Maybe this should be your Halloween costume instead."

(Y/n) frowned and turned her head to the side to hide her blushing face.

"You're pouting?" He laughed. "You said you wanted me to use my toys on you. You should be happy. You're happy aren't you?"

She refused to answer his question. She felt humiliated, yet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the vision of her gagged and dressed up like a cat turned her on. Izuku took her by the chin and forced her to look at him.

"You should be thanking me," he muttered.

Hearing her own words uttered back to her sent a chill down her spine. Izuku pulled her ass to the edge of the bed and aligned their lower halves. The tip of his cock teased at her entrance. He held the base of his cock in his hand and rubbed himself in her slick. His mouth hung open, sighing as he slapped his weight on her twitching pussy. He lowered his body, his hands planted on either side of her head. He realigned himself at her gaping hole and slowly moved his hips forward.

"Oh shit," he moaned as he slid into her cunt. "God, you're so fucking tight..."

Inch by inch he stretched her pussy hole to accommodate his girth. This was the moment he's been waiting for. For the last two months, he's settled for pussy-licking and fingering at her request to wait until the time was right to go all the way. He respected her wishes and happily dove his fingers and his tongue in her heaven-sent pussy at any given moment. But he waited long enough to finally break through her walls, and there was no better time than now for him to bury his cock in her precious glory hole.

Her muffled whines kissed his ears and urged him to push deeper. He pushed through about half-way before he experienced any resistance. He slowly pulled out until only his tip remained, and her luscious pink wrapped around his head and pulled him back in. His cock jumped at the sight.

"look at your greedy little cunt," he moaned. "y'keep sucking me back in....so selfish...y'gotta have it all to yourself...well, take it then...take all of it. s'all for you."

He force his way back inside her, pushing through until he felt the base of his balls slap against her ass. A high-pitched moan irrupted from her chest and he felt her legs spread open for him to burry himself even deeper. Her legs wrapped around his waist and locked themself in place. Pressing his stomach against hers, Izuku took her hands in his, held them above her head, and interlaced their fingers.

He snapped his hips back and ruthlessly fucked into her. The sheer force of his thrusts pushed her body up and down along the duvet and rattled the jingle bell secured to her neck. His curved length plunged deep inside her, filling her up completely. His bulbous head rubbed against textured walls, grazing against the most sweet-feeling spots. The plug in her ass created a new sensation that she grew to love. Whatever spots Izuku's dick pressed against was also stimulated on the other side through the lining of her asshole.

The fact that it felt good mortified her and she grew frustrated and angry at Izuku for making her feel so good yet so wrong. His heavy grunts and moans consumed her. Tears glistened in her eyes and she could see nothing but the shine of his necklace dangling in her face.

Each powerful thrust earned a precious short-lived moan muted by the fabric of her panties. Wanting to hear them more clearly, he plucked the bikini from her mouth, allowing her moans to go uncensored. Her soprano vibrato melded with his baritone staccato, and the rhythmic beat of skin slapping against skin accompanied the orchestra of creaking bed frame corners scraping against vinyl floor, creating the score of their ascending symphonic pleasure fuck.

"sweet girl," Izuku panted and kissed her lips. "you sound so fucking pretty...i love it when you moan for me...i wanna hear more"

He unabashedly rutted into her, bottoming out and sweetly kissing her cervix. Delicate, manicured nails scraped at his shoulders as she glared daggers in his eyes. Her brows indented the center of her forehead in what was meant to be a deep frown, but she was so exhausted and lost in having the fuck of her life, she looked like a drooling, simpering doll.

"f-fuuuck....you....!"

Izuku laughed, a bright smile beaming across his freckled face. She really acted like a bratty little kitten.

"Oh, baby," he snickered. "You already are!"

(Y/n) seized his moment of weakness and used her strength to push Izuku to the right and roll him on his back. She landed on top of him, still connected at the hip. She pinned his shoulders and began riding his dick at her own pace, her clit occasionally brushing against his tamed pubes.

"Now you listen to me," she demanded. "I don't care that you're a camboy...I would never judge you for something like that. But I hate lying. You told me it—haa—you told me it was your right to keep secrets...but you're wrong...there should be no secrets between us."

She rolled her hips against his painfully slow, enough to keep a consistent current of pleasure flowing through his body without any build-up. His hands held her sides, holding her in place as he matched her movements and rolled his hips up into her. He looked up at her through hooded eyelids like he was in a trance. His mouth hung open and his purples were dilated into sparkling black pearls, longingly staring at his tigress. He didn't know where to keep his eyes. On her angelic face, on her beautiful bouncing tits, or her sticky pink cunt making his cock disappear.

"You have to be open....y'have to trust me...trust that I will love 'n accept you—f-fuck—no matter what!"

"You're right," he hissed. "I'm sorry...It'll never happen again, baby."

Satisfied with his apology, she forgave him in an instant and bent over to kiss his lips.

"I'm sorry too," she simpered, bouncing on his dick at her top speed. "But I swear to God, if you ever lie to me again Izuku Midoriya, I will fuck you so good you'll never be able to fuck anyone else again...and then...I'll fucking dump your ass! Nod if you understand."

He nodded fervently. "Y-yes ma'am."

(Y/n) smirked. "Good boy."

Izuku's hands encircled the globe of her ass and held her pussy in a position for him to root his feet into the ground and jackhammer up into her ribbed canal. His lips selfishly engulfed hers, swallowing all her moans, squeals, and sighs. He moaned her name like a prayer, feeling her walls tighten and compress around him. His swollen balls were begging to be emptied out into her womb. He planned to fill her up full until his hot seed spilled down her legs.

Several pussy-aching thrusts later and his dream came true. Izuku came with a cry of her name. His hips jutted into her sore pelvis, painting her insides white. He held her steady whilst she bucked and sizzled out from her own release.

"How's that for a damn kitten?" (Y/n) sighed, her voice hoarse and trembling.

Izuku chuckled and pet the top of her head. She closed her eyes and hummed, lowering her neck to brush her nose against his. He leaned up and kissed her lips, snaking his hands up her naked curves and weaving them through her locks. They stayed in that way for a while, kissing and caressing one another as their bodies recuperated and the fatigue set in.

"How did you figure it out?" He asked, breaking the prolonged silence.

(Y/n) kept her eyes closed and her head on his chest. "Hmm?"

"How did you know it was me?" He reiterated.

"You mean besides the fact that I know what my panties and my boyfriend's body looks like?" She pointed to the reflection of the stuffed pig in the mirror. "Mumu."

Izuku looked at the mirror and towards his camera to see that it was indeed in frame. "Son of a bitch," he cursed.

Another pause.

"Did you tell anyone else?" He asked. (Y/n) craned her head up to look at him. "When you found out about the video you saw. Did you tell Mina or anybody that it was me?"

Her fingers played in his thick curls.

“Don’t worry, Izu," she assured him. "Your secret is safe with me.”

Her answer settled his nerves and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.”

She returned the favor by placing one on his chest before laying her head down once more. She was staring at the room absent-mindedly, simply enjoying the closeness they were sharing when she caught sight of something in the corner of her eye. (Y/n) furrowed her brows.

“Babe?” She muttered.

“Yes?”

“Why is your camera flashing red?”

“What?”

Izuku sat up, forcing her to move onto her side. He looked at his camera and saw that there was indeed a flashing red dot hovering above the lens. The heart-in-ass feeling returned tenfold.

He sprinted from his bed and over to the desk. He waved his computer mouse around and, to his horror, the screen turned on. Notifications rang through the speakers like a siren. His screen showed live feed from his camera, as it had been for the last three and a half hours.

He never turned off the stream.

In his frantic state, he only turned off his monitors instead of successfully shutting down the computer. Everything, every single thing that had happened in the room in the last three hours was streamed on Camcity.com.

To 10,674 watchers.

dick_ryderrr: you got caught in 4k! 😂🫵🏾 user6996: your secret's safe with me too bro masterbaiter tipped shyboi_3358 $200.00! hotteacher_66 tipped shyboi_3358 $350.00! mighty_wreckeder: not even god could pull me out of that miami_milf tipped shyboi_3358 $500.00! brattycunt: I knew he was hot! ME NEXT!!!!!!!🤗 newgirl_2000: i can take them both d_throck_johnson: newgirl_2000 in a fight right?😨

Izuku disconnected the live stream and stared blankly at his screen, dread slowly filling his body.

.

.

.

“Shit."

thanks for reading ♡

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia smut #deku x reader #deku smut #mha x reader #mha smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #my hero academia fanfiction #mha headcanons #my hero x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #mina ashido x reader

[iridecsense]

farmboy izu is my everything~

one of the best fics i've read in a long time! still blushing and kickin' my feet over it ♡

⠀ ⠀ ℐℱ 𝒪ℛ𝒜𝒩𝒢ℰ 𝒲𝒜𝒮 𝒜 𝒫ℒ𝒜𝒞ℰ .ᐟ

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 12.8k word count , black fem reader [ she / her prnz ] , both you and izu’ are 21 , mean farmer boy izu’ , oral sex [ r. + i. receiving ] , dom / sub dynamics , sex in a barn , daddy kink , big dick izu , slight bratty reader , pet name usage [ ex. baby, honey, shortstuff ] , creampie , bit of cum inflation , cervix kissing , izu’ doesn’t find cussin’ ladylike , izu’ is also huge in this so . . i don’t care how tall you are he’s bigger .

belladonna's note to you .ᐟ . . . smthg to keep u cutiez satiated while i study mi lil tushie off ໒꒰ ♡◞ ˕ ก ꒱১ < 3 i wrote dis like . . a year ago now ‘n only loosely edited it sooo my style may be a lil wonkyyy . have fun readin’ n minorzzzzz Do Not Interact !

it’s true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to a certain extent, you were treated almost as if you had been a celebrity.

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

in that case, everyone aside from him.

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

izuku midoriya.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s scary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you sniff, “you’re baking?”

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

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

“it’s fine, no worries.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you wait.

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

the door opens.

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

“. . . hi.”

it’s him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

freckles.

so, so many freckles.

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

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

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

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

you don’t know what you had expected.

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

you’re shocked.

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

okay, you think. wow.

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

you try not to dwell on it for too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’re fully prepared to try again.

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

“where are you going?”

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

“down to izuku’s.”

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

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

you’re out of the door on a mission.

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

“( ❤︎ )!”

you grin, “ms. aya, hi!”

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

“how are you feeling?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you.

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

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

he’s talking to you.

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

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

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

he hates you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—i know that—“

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

he bites out a low, “—i’m fine—“

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

“—i’m fuckin’ fine!”

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

oh.

there it is, you muse. finally.

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

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

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

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

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

“hey, babe.”

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

“wanna eat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

her footsteps recede down the hallway and you sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence.

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

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

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

you fold your arms, “no.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“mister maevis adores lil, ol’ me.”

you loathe knowing that he’s right. you drag yourself out of bed with a groan and huff, realizing there was no point in trying to change his mind, and shuffle to your closet to pull out the first article of clothing you see which is a little, white skirt, white, collared shirt, and pink, cropped sweater vest.

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

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

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

“ ‘m ready.”

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

“what are we doing first?”

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

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

“are you sure?”

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

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

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

“wrap your arms ‘round.”

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

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

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

“y’ever milk a cow?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you giggle, “you’re so cute.”

maybe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his answer is coarse, “no.”

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

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

“—you didn’t do anythin’.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

when it’s all laid out like that, izuku realizes that he was a bit, fuck that, very rude to you. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, taking a chance to lay a kiss right against the crown of your head. god, he’s sorry. “i’m sorry, i just . . ” he chews the inside of his cheek, trying to explain his emotions as best he can. “i don’t know how to . . like someone.” he doesn’t think he’s ever had a crush before. he’s never craved to hold a person tight, to slip love notes within their back pockets as if he were a sheepish teen, to protect, love, and cherish — not until you stumbled into his life.

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

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

thudthudthudthudthud.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“want what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

flawless. exquisite. you’re perfect.

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

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

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

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

he blows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—jesus fucking christ.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your response is a simple sob of his name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it’s funny, you think.

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

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

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

  ❤︎ — all rights reserved ! © pwncez !

#fic rec #if my ideal man was in a fic #it's this one #live laugh love izuku ♡

[iridecsense]

red dot - m. (a preview)

here is an excerpt from my Izuku smut. as always, characters are aged up to 20-year-old consenting adults. minors please don't interact.

READ NOW ♡

enjoy!

"What about you?" She asked. "Any professors you hate?"

"No, not really," he confessed. "Even the professors who are hard asses I appreciate. I know their main goal is to make us better and prepare us for the real world. Tough love is necessary sometimes."

"Tough love? Is that what you call it?" She giggled. "I call it sadism."

"Not a masochist then?" He joked.

"Clearly not as much as you are."

Izuku shrugged. "You need a little pain before you get a reward, right?" He recalled her own philosophy. "Pain and pleasure are just two sides of the same coin."

"Familiar with that coin are you?"

The corner of Izuku's lip twitched into a smirk. "Are we still talking about school?

(y/n)'s lips curled with a similar slyness. "I don't know. Are we?"

He stayed silent, unsure of what to say next as he watched her take another hit from the pipe, blowing smoke past her lips. Echos of The Weeknd's muffled lyrics filled the silence, mirroring his thoughts and intentions. He could feel himself grow and twitch in his sweatpants. He shifted in his seat and tugged on the fabric of his pants to hide his shame, but even half-hard it was impossible not to notice.

Her eyes trailed from his face, down his neck, decorated with a silver chain, down his black t-shirt that would tighten around his biceps when he flexed or stretched, to his waistline that was slim and exposed, revealing the elastic of his boxers that peaked above the hem of his sweatpants where his twitching cock was just begging to be touched.

And he was begging. He didn't have to say it aloud. She could see it in his reddened eyes that were dilated into black holes and in the way he leaned back against the bed frame; his open lap was like an invitation.

He could feel her eyes scanning him. His heartbeat quickened, speeding up with every second. An unsung song lulled in the air. They were both waiting to see who would sing it first.

(y/n) licked her lips. From where he sat, she was cool and collected. He, on the other hand, was an anxious mess. He felt like a deer caught in the sights of a preying tigress, just waiting—hoping for her to pounce.

"Fuck." she muttered, taking a quick puff from the pipe before setting it down on the ground and crawling over to him.

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoryia smut #deku x reader #deku smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #my hero x reader #my hero academia fanfiction #mha smut #todoroki x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #anime fanfiction #mha headcanons

[iridecsense]

isn’t he so pretty <3

FAVORITE GEAR 5 SHOTS!!!!! part 1

[iridecsense]

mha characters x chubby!gf headcanons - m.

ft.୭̥⋆*— i.midoriya, k.bakugou, t.amajiki

contents୭̥⋆*— fluff, smut, kinks

author's note୭̥⋆*— these are more like mini-fics than headcanons at this point. a peace offering for Lip Smacker’s delay. it’s coming I promise! this is a college au, meaning all characters are aged up to 18+ consenting adults, more specifically all characters are in their 20s

izuku midoriya

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — when izuku first saw you he immediately thought, 'cute'.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — you were eating at the dining hall with ochako. he never saw you before, but just by looking at you, he decided he loved your chubby cheeks and round face. to him, you looked like a doll, pretty and soft. And when you smiled? well, that was it for him.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — he officially met you at a party and was incredibly nervous around you at first. it didn’t help that you were wearing the sexiest outfit in the room. he was glad that by the time he had gained the courage to talk to you he'd been five shots in, otherwise you'd acknowledge his incredibly red face.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — luckily for him, you did notice his blushing face and stuttered words weren't alcohol induced but because he was crushing on you. truthfully, you'd known for a while he fancied you. he wasn't exactly discreet in his stares. just like how he was staring at you now, with big doe eyes staring down at you like you were his whole world. it's why you gave him your number.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — he courted you in the way most girls only dream of. he'd take you on the best dates and bring you gifts, like teddy bears and sweets you liked. He'd give you his jacket if you were cold, brush your hair out of your face when you were talking to him, even walk you to your dorm and call you when he got back to his to talk you to sleep.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — the night you kissed him in front of your apartment door was a night he'd never forget. he'd seared it into his memory, from the feel of your lips, the sound of your shakey breaths, and the softness of your waist in his hands.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — once he had a taste he just couldn't get enough. it was almost impossible to keep his hands and lips off you. he'd gotten so bold that he started kissing and borderline groping you in public or while in the company of others. it started to become a real problem.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — "get a room jagoff!" katsuki grumbled as he threw a pillow at izuku's head while he was on top of you doing some heavy petting on the common room couch.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — you giggled underneath him, twirling the hair at the nape of his neck between your fingers. "maybe he's right," you said. "we should get a room."

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — that was all he needed to sweep you off the couch and carry you to his bedroom.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — izuku is so gentle, he treats you like a porcelain doll. That's what you were to him. "my doll," he'd whisper in your ear as his hands traveled lower, lower, lower... you gasp.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — "you're my sweet doll. my precious little doll. i'm gonna make you feel good okay? you want me to make you feel good, right baby?"

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — you were so soft and warm, he could bury his face in your tits forever. he loved leaving hickies along your body, especially your thighs.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — man did he love your thighs.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — he loved the way they encased his hips as he snapped his hips against you. but he most loved them straddled across his own with you bouncing on top, wrapped in his arms, holding you close.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — he wants to feel all of you all the time—your soft flesh pressed against his, his strong arms encasing you, his chin resting on your chest as he looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, watching your face contort into visions of ecstasy. his sweet doll.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — "cum for me doll, please," he'd beg, kissing your breasts. "i want to feel my babydoll squeeze around my cock with her pretty little pussy...so warm for me...so tight. does it feel good when i'm inside you? tell me. tell me it feels good."

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — everything is about you. he will spend hours making you come. he'll eat you out till his jaw locks, make you cum around his fingers until you were a sensitive quivering mess and he'll do it gladly.

૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ˂̵͈᷅ ₎ა — all for his precious little doll.

katsuki bakugou

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you had known katsuki briefly in childhood. his family had vacationed one summer in your seaside town and he met you on a particularly hot day at the beach.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you were only ten at the time. your parents let you go off on your own and you found a small cove with a treasury of seashells to collect.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — alas, your pleasant time shifting through sand and mud was interrupted by two thick-headed middle-schoolers. the boys teased and tormented you, calling you names and insulting your appearance and weight.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — around the same time, katsuki was passing by, finding the forced vacation "shitty". he saw the boys picking at you. he was more annoyed than anything. it is one thing to pick on someone younger than you, but a girl?

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he had the gall to step in and teach the bastards a lesson, but before he could move, you had already thrown a powerful punch at one of the assailant's jaw and kicked the other's in the groin.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you had them running off, sniveling with their tails between their legs.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — needless to say, he was impressed.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he came up to you, intending to appraise you in his own way by saying something along the lines of "didn't think a girl could throw a punch like that."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — but you were still shaken by the encounter and the sight of another boy with—let's not pretend—a rather threatening aura, fixed you to defensively throw a second punch straight at his gut.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — somehow, in that moment, you earned his respect.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — once you apologized, having realized your mistake, and the two of you became fast friends. Playing heroes together, exploring the town, swimming in the sea, and eating both your weights in ice cream and carnival foods.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he found you funny, adventurous, and assertive. unlike the "friends" he had back home, you didn't let him order you around or follow him blindly, you walked with him. you were like partners in crime. equals.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he would not say it, but you are what made his summer vacation bearable. leaving was one of the hardest things he had to do as a ten-year-old boy.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "see you next summer?" you asked.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "whatever."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he knew he wouldn't.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he watched you wave through the back window of the car until it rounded the corner and you disappeared. he sank back into his seat and after a while, his parents heard muffled sniffles coming from the back seat.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "are you alright, katsuki?" his mother asked, gazing at her son through the rearview mirror. his eyes were red and full of tears.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "im fine."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — it's always the friends you meet on vacation and never see again that leave such deep impressions, right?

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — that is until he did see you again, ten years later, walking around campus as if it were any other day.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — it was like seeing a ghost. you looked the same as you did all those years ago.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — well, sort of.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you were still thick, but you certainly grew into yourself as a woman, with the curves to match.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — but it was definitely you. you still had your laugh, your dimpled smile, and the same confidence you had back then. he was glad to know not much changed about you.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he kept an eye out for you whenever he was out. far enough away to where you wouldn't notice him. he didn't know how to approach you. he didn't want to scare you off. for all he knew, you didn't remember him at all. then he would just be some freak who obsessed over a girl he met ten years ago.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — it was only when he was sitting at the student union with his headphones in his ears, working on an assignment between classes that he felt a tap on his shoulder.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he took his headphones off prepared to curse out whoever decided to bug him unprovoked when he saw you, smiling awkwardly down at him.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "i'm sorry, this may sound weird but you remind me of a childhood friend i had. is your name katsuki by chance?"

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you remembered.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — and just like that, you were back in his life.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — it was awkward at first. you both reminisced about the past and caught up on each other's lives currently. but it wasn't long before you both went back to your antics, joking around, playing video games, and having late-night drives and sleepovers at each other's dorms.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — his friends got to know you as well. some of them even calling you the prettier, nicer version of him.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — one night, while katsuki was spending the night in your dorm, the two of you were laying close together on the bed binge-watching Game of Thrones.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "do you think i would look better if looked like that?" you asked, referring to a scene where Daenerys unclothes herself.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "what are you talking about? you want to dye your hair white?"

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you sucked your teeth. "No. y'know, like if i lost weight. i think i'd get more dates if i looked like khaleesi," you say, half joking.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — katsuki frowned. "don't be stupid."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — you looked at him. "what do you mean stupid?"

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "you don't need to lose weight, especially not for some shit-head guy. your body is perfect the way it is."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — your face flushed. "perfect?"

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — katsuki looked into your eyes, then down at your lips. without thinking he crashed his lips against yours. you kissed him back, letting your head fall back into the pillow. the rest is history.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he is a little rough, but only because it's hard for him to control these feelings he's had for you for so long. he makes up for it with affirmations, consistent kisses, and pet names.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "my girl..." "baby..." "sunshine..." though, the latter, which he calls you because he met you during the day where the sun shined its brightest, is most often used when he is teasing you for being a brat.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he practically rips off your clothes and his, so desperate to feel you under him.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he loves your ass. it's one of his favorite things to grab and smack. he loves the sounds you make when he fucks you, his hips snapping into you so fast you're seeing stars. he loves it when you call his name and claw at his back.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — he most likes to fuck you from behind, or while standing up and holding you in his arms with your legs wrapped around him. he liked finding new ways to show you how strong he was, and how your weight would never be a problem for him.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — "you're mine," he'd pant in your ear. " this ass is mine. theses tits are mine. this pussy is mine. all mine."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — but when you fuck him, that's when he really loses his mind.

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — and the way you sucked his dick sent him to the astral plane. and looking down at your pretty face, mouth full of his cock and your pretty puppy-dog eyes.

૮ ๑ˊᯅ��๑ აִ — "f-fuck...you're gonna kill me, girl."

૮ ๑ˊᯅˋ๑ აִ — how lucky was he that he found the girl he couldn't forget after all these years. how lucky was he that you were all his.

tamaki amajiki

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — it was only natural that tamaki was a foodie. he loved food. he spent most of his time thinking about food. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — so did you, considering you had a passion for cooking. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you looooved to cook for your friends. it was your love language. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა —but if you had to pick which out of all your friends you liked cooking for the most, it was tamaki.

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — tamaki loved your food. he would always compliment your cooking, even if it was something as simple as ramen. somehow you made it taste so so good. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you often teased him about it, just so you could make him blush.

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — it came to a point where you started packing lunches for him and making him dinner on weekends. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — mirio would tease the two of you about it a lot. one time mirio caught you giving tamaki his lunch for the day in a cutesie bento box and joked, “it’s like you’re an old married couple!” 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — tamaki blushed profusely and went on a five minute rant about how mirio should be careful about what he says so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — but you werent uncomfortable or embarrassed. secretly you liked the idea of being married to your sweet tamaki. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he did too. he liked it so much that he often had dreams about it. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you’d be happily married together, and you would keep cooking him delicious foods and he would spoil you rotten and you’d have his kids. you’d be the perfect happy family. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — if only he had the courage to ask you out first. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he tried many times, but he would get so embarrassed he would turn into a bumbling idiot and you would be your sweet self and try to talk him down. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “it’s okay tamaki, you dont have to say anything if you don't want to.”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — it wasnt that he didn’t want to, it was that he was scared. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you were the beautiful, bright, bubbly, y/n. you were worlds ahead of him, probably so high you couldnt see him the way he saw you. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — oh, but you did. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — tamaki’s birthday was around the corner and you spent days trying to make the perfect cake. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you practically slaved in the kitchen and spent absurd amounts of money on ingredients to make several different batches of cake. you wanted everything to be perfect because you were going to confess to him that day and you couldnt give your crush a shitty birthday cake when you’re professing your love. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you spent days in that kitchen, even falling asleep in it a few times, covered in flour and chocolate. nonstop it was, wake up, bake, get ready for class, go to class, bake again, pass out. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — your friends barely saw you, and in your frenzy you’d forgotten to pack lunches for tamaki all week.

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he grew worried, and on friday night, the day before his birthday, he went to your apartment to check on you. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you were sitting in front of the oven, watching the cake rise and slowly nodding off to sleep when you heard your doorbell ring. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — jolting up you looked down at the lockscreen of your phone on the counter. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — ”SHIT!” it was friday. you usually cook dinner for tamaki on fridays. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — rushing to the door you primped yourself the best you could and opened it, revealing tamaki. he looked down at you, covered in flour and frosting. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “is everything okay, y/n?”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “yeah, of couse everythings fine why do you ask?” you grin. liar.

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “can i come in?”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — and how could you say no to him and his pretty eyes? 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — so now tamaki was in your apartment, and you were desperately trying to figure out how to convince him to leave before he found the dozens of failed cakes in your kitchen. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “i came by because i’m worried about you,” he said. “i havent seen you all week.”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — your heart practically melted. you tried to tell him you were just busy with homework you procastinated doing, but he didnt seem so convinced. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — then, the scent of burnt surgar started to fill the room, and tamaki smelled the air, his head turning towards the kitchen. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “is something burning?”

��(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — then the smoke detector went off. your eyes widened. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you ran for the kitchen, tamaki following after you to help. cake number 16 had burnt in the oven and a thick fog of smoke filled the kitchen. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you worked quickly to get it out the oven and shut it off. tamaki found a kitchen towel and fanned the smoke away until the detecter went silent. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — once everything seemed to be handled, he took in the state of your kitchen, full of ‘failure’ cakes that said “happy birthday, tamaki!”, “i love you tamaki”, and “happy birthday tamaki, lets make out!”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “you were making these for me?”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — and the beans were spilt. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you admitted to tamaki that you had spent the week baking him birthday cakes because you wanted to make something perfect for him and because...

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “i love you,” you confessed, nervous of the outcome, but glad to have finally said it. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — just like that, you gave tamaki the best birthday gift he could ask for. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — a smile spread across his lips and he took your hand in his. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “i feel like i should have been the one to tell you that first.”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he swiftly pressed a kiss onto your lips, pulling away only slightly, to gage your reaction. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you smiled and kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — the kiss grew heated and he began pushing you back into an empty counter where he lifted you up with ease, entraping himself between your legs. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he trailed kisses down your neck where he licked a spot of chocolate icing left behind. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — your shaky moan was all it took for him to rip off your apron and blouse. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — his tongue trailed along your body, licking and sucking your breats while he dove his hand under your skirt and rubbed you through your panties. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “does mommy...want daddy to make her feel good?”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — oh, god yes! 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — you captured his lips into a sloppy kiss, rocking your hips into his hand. somewhere in the thick of things, you got you hands on the can of whipped cream you left out. gently pulling tamaki’s lips from your neck, you held the whipped cream between your bodies. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — smirking you tilted the nozzle down at your chest, and swirled whip cream on your chest and nipples. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “oh, mommy.” he moaned, immediatly diving his face into your tits, lapping and sucking the sweetness off and leaving hickies on your chest in the process. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — his hands were fumbling with the belt of his jeans, pulling down the zipper to fish out his cock. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — can you believe he fucked you on that countertop?

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he drove his hips into like his life depended on it. all this time he spent pining for you came down to this moment, and he couldnt be happier to get lost in your pussy. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “y’feel so good,” he’d pant. “’g’na cum so hard mommy...g’na fill you up... get you pregnant...yeah...you like that? daddy’s gonna breed you, baby.... ‘n make you his”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — between his cock and his dirty words, you came so hard you saw white. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he came too and kept his promise, filling you up with his cum. he kept his cock inside you and pressed his hand against your stomach. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — “you keep it in there, okay?” he slurred. “don’t let it come out. imma take care of you. i’m gonna marry you. i love you. i love you so much.”

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — he held you close, and kissed you softly. 

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა — that was the first time you ever truly considered getting off the pill. 

#mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #izuku midoriya headcanons #deku headcanons #deku hcs #katsuki bakugo hcs #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo headcanons #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki headcanons #izuku midoriya x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #mha fanfiction #mha college au #smutty headcanons #anime headcanons #anime fanfiction

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The return of spring🌷// fairy commission

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source

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femme adrien au more like miraculous lesbian

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femme chat noire (?)

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Hi! I hope you're doing well!

I was hoping I could be added to the taglist for Lip Smacker if you have one?

worry not my love! i will add you to the taglist :)

#–;💌🕊️༉・₊✧

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Fly Agaric Amanita muscaria

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his brother’s keeper - m. 

 ⤷ summary: after yet again pining for his brother’s girl, newt finds himself stuck between his brother and the woman he is in love with…quite literally.

𓇬word count: 8.0k 𓇬 pairing: theseus scamander | fem!reader | newt scamander 𓇬 genre: smut, porn with a little plot  𓇬 rating:18+ 𓇬 warnings: profanity, depictions of spiked drinks 𓇬 kinks: voyeur, cuckholding, breeding, creampie, menage et toi, oral (fem recieving), anal mdom/femsub/msub 𓇬 author’s note:Something you can think of as a sequel to rumors, or a stand alone one shot. I will definitely not see the pearly gates after this, I am so sorry in advance! I may be a bit rusty so please be gentle and accept this late Christmas gift as a New Years surprise. Expect more from me soon. ;)

     It was usually in conditions like these, when the streets of London were slick with cool wet, and the biting cold spread mist from hot mouths filled the air, that made a time meant for cheer and love, one of desolate solitude for those less fortunate. Whatever the circumstances may be, it is in these times Newt Scamander often found himself alone. Though, if you were to ask him yourself he would deny the accusation and snarkily ask if one could ever be truly alone when surrounded by magnificent creatures. Despite the best efforts of his brother, who cared for him most earnestly, Newt hadn’t spent the holidays with him in years. 

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this is very well said.

while i do appreciate likes and when new followers spam like my work, it doesn’t encourage me to write more.

as someone who is dedicating their life to writing, fanfic is an outlet for me to have fun while also improving my skills. but i can’t improve or find the joy in writing fanfic without feedback and motivation.

i am motivated to write when i get feedback and comments on posts or in my inbox. i am motivated when someone reblogs and recommends my work to others. i am motivated when followers interact with me, message me, and request fics from me. these are the things that keep fanfic writers writing.

it is the lack of these things that causes writers like me who work, attend university, and have families to care for to put fanfic writing aside or retire completely. personally, it is why i tend to have such terrible dry spells.

‘why dedicate hours if my free time writing something that wont get appreciated?’ i’d have thoughts like this.

make no mistake, we love getting likes! likes are nice, keep ‘em coming! but, without the reblogs to match, many fanfic authors’ hard work—all their great fics—are lost in tumblr’s overwhelming sea, unable to get the rightful recognition they deserve. writers want to be proud of their work, but we can only be proud if we get feedback. we can only be motivated by your support.

if you want to keep your favorite fanfic blog writing, reblog, comment, and send them letters in their inbox.

we will love and thank you for it. ♡

this is a rant/vent post. if you are interacting with it you are acknowledging that this is my opinion and my feelings

i don't think i've mentioned it before but i feel like i need to make a dedicated post. please reblog fanfic from creators. tumblr is a website that thrives off of reblogs. likes are not enough interaction.

i used to see post like this one from creators complaining about it before and i didn't understand why it was a problem. now, as a creator, i'll try to explain. watching people go through my account and spam like most/all of my content without a single reblog makes me feel like shit. feedback and reblogs tell creators that you enjoy their work and you want them to create more.

it's incredibly demotivating to see people spam like my account and not leave any kind of feedback. part of the reason why i publicly create fanfiction is because i want you to tell me what you like about it, what i could improve on, anything.

people stop creating because when putting time and effort into something that you don't acknowledge anything about makes us feel like shit. why would you keep creating if nobody cares about the things you make?

*some of these posts would have 0 reblogs if i wasn't rebloging them from an alternate account.

these are some of my recent fics. hundreds of likes to less than 10 reblogs is a terrible ratio. it's like screaming into a void. it makes me feel bad about my work. if you want creators to continue creating, you need reblog their posts.

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