They See You In Lingerie For The First Time V.1

this was so beautiful🥹 give him here num num

Hello hello! I love ALL of your MHA stuff! Your fics and hcs for a certain teacher are just on POINT 😩🤌🏻

I have a teeny request.... Domestic fluff for Zawa when?

Ty ty!! I'm not quite sure if this qualifies, but it's so soft. I wanted an excuse to have Aizawa say "ily" a bunch of times and also sort of play into that Jenny Slate quote, "Who will come into my kitchen and be hungry for me?"

aizawa knows he loves you the minute he comes home to you making dinner in his clothes.

it's a mixture of things: the possessive churn in his gut at seeing his shirt barely skim past your ass, the gentle hum of your voice singing alongside the radio—the realization settles over him so easy it's like drawing breath.

you let out a surprised gust of air when his arms tug you against his chest.

"shouta!" you laugh, and it's unbearable almost, how heavenly he finds this moment to be. he absorbs your smile with a kiss. "what's gotten into you?"

he's not the most affectionate man. he tries to show his love for you through his actions, but aizawa wonders now if distrusting his ability to put his feelings into words is more cowardice than strategy.

to love you is to potentially lose you. he's known that from the beginning. the possibility exists that one day you might not be here in his arms, wearing his Present Mic shirt that you tease him mercilessly over and looking at him like he's capable of offering you the moon rather than the actual exhausted life of a pro-hero.

"i love you," he blurts out, and your eyes soften with such overwhelming affection he suddenly can't stop saying it. "i love you," he repeats against your neck, tracing his thumb over the red mark he sucked into the skin that morning. "i love you," a hoarse rasp as he reclaims your lips.

he has to accept what he can't control, and the loss of you is one. he can only control something as simple and beautiful as this, peppering his love onto your blushing cheeks as you put on the tea.

spider monkey

hanta sero x fem!reader⋆｡°✩— college!au (still have quirks), hanta wants to recreate the iconic spiderman kiss with you, fluff, 1.6k words

a/n: for you @bloomstream

With a jangle of your keys, the door to your shared apartment opens. It’s a day like any other. You finished all your classes around 3pm and headed to the library to watch a few missed lectures. Before returning home, you grabbed some takeout from your boyfriend’s favourite noodle place.

And as you step inside, the salty-sweet scent of tender beef stir-fried noodles and miso soup diffusing in the air, you gasp at the utter pigsty before you. Books and couch cushions are scattered about the floor, the coffee table has been propped up against a wall, and there are metres of tape hanging from the ceiling fan.

You mutter in shock, “Oh my god.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see a swathe of black hair and pale skin darting about. With a thud, Hanta lands in front of you in a low crouch.

Rising to his full height, he takes the takeout from your hands and exclaims, “Thanks, babe! Did you get-oh fuck yea!” He leans down and chastely kisses your cheek before heading into the kitchen. Your wide eyes are glued to how perfectly he avoids every obstacle on the floor as he digs through the bag.

You point around your living dishevelled room while stuttering, “U-uh, Hanta, honey. W-what’s going on?” He chuckles warmly as he drops the takeout on the bench and fetches some bowls and cutlery.

He shrugs, “Just testing out my skills, spider monkey.” You take tentative steps toward the kitchen, trying your best to dodge the mess. You’re almost there when you nearly trip on a particularly large cushion. You catch yourself at the last second before you can fall flat on your face (with your heavy-ass fugly backpack on too).

With lightning reflexes, your boyfriend is already next to you, prepared to catch you should you wobble. He steadies you by your forearms, his thin brows furrowed and his full lips slightly pouty.

Hanta asks worriedly, “Are you okay, babe?” You nod and hum reassuringly as you let him guide you to the kitchen unscathed. He squeezes your arm gently before letting go and returning to dishing out your dinner. You lean on the bench with your chest resting on your elbows as you ask him about his day.

Same old, same old. He remarks, “I was actually re-watching Spider-Man.”

You laugh, “Oh yea? How many times is that now? Like 50?” He pushes two bowls toward you, one with your favourite noodles and the other with your soup, and gestures for you to sit down.

The tongs clank beside the sink as he says defensively, “Yea, yea, well… How many times have you rewatched Twilight?” Your mouth falls open, and your hand stills, sauce-slick noodles slipping from your chopsticks.

“Hey!” You call out as he grins cockily and plops down beside you.

“Just saying it like how it is, MJ,” he taunts, his smirk widening as he slurps on miso.

You groan as you pick at your noodles like they have personally offended you, “Will you stop calling me that? My name isn’t MJ.” With a comical gulp, he stares at you for a moment, seeming to assess you in great detail.

Hanta’s slender fingers tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips ghosting your jaw. He finally cups your chin and turns your face toward him, tired eyes roving over your features.

All the cheekiness is gone from his expression as he says seriously, “Is that a new pimple?” You push his hand off as he guffaws.

You groan, “Just shut up and eat your noodles, will you?” His palm slams on the table as he doubles over from laughter, earning an eye roll from you.

You stuff your mouth full of yummy goodness, ignoring his heart-warming chuckles, especially how they melt you from the inside out and take off the edge from a long day at college.

He breathes out, “I-it hurts.”

After swallowing, you lick your lips and frown, “Damn right it should.” You reach for a napkin, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He cups your cheek with one hand and pats your oily lips with the serviette in his other. In return, you thumb his under-eyes, catching all of his stray tears.

He pouts as you draw back, “I’m sorry, babe. I couldn’t resist.” You shake your head.

“I know.” Hanta places the dirty napkin on the bench and releases you, resigned to watch in contentment as you continue eating. After a minute, you gaze at him and see his lazy smile and fond eyes, his cheek squished by the palm he’s resting it on.

With a mouth half full, you say, “What?” He chuckles softly as he shakes his head and turns back to his meal.

He mutters, “Nothing.”

Gulping down your food, you whisper-yell, “Is my pimple really that bad?”

He groans, “No, spider-monkey. I was just admiring my super hot girlfriend, jeez.”

Dabbing your mouth dry, you giggle, “Oh, well then, why didn’t you say so?” He sighs before munching on his noodles. As per usual, he finishes before you and starts cleaning up.

While Hanta’s putting the leftovers in the fridge, he reassures you, “Don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna fix the living room. Right after we kiss.” You nearly choked on your soup.

Coughing a little, you stutter, “W-what?”

He spins around and grins at you confidently, “I saw it today. You know, the iconic kiss scene? I was thinking that we could recreate it.” He stalks over to you and leans against the bench, his arms crossed as he continues, “I mean, I am kinda like Spider-Man, and you’re my MJ.” You roll your eyes and finish off your soup.

You thank your boyfriend while handing him your bowl, and he starts washing the dishes. You take up your rightful place by his side, drying and putting the dishes away once they’ve been cleaned. The rubbery snaps of the gloves cut through the quiet apartment as he yanks them off. He then wraps a strong arm around your shoulders and carefully leads you back to the living room.

Stopping in the middle, he raises his hands, palms facing you as he instructs, “Just stay there, okay?”

You whine, “But Hantaaaa, I’m gonna taste like noodles!” He drops his hands, head cocking to the side as gives you the “Are you being serious right now?” look. You nod and scamper off to the bathroom. You swish around mouthwash and spit it out before running back to him.

You chime whilst your heart pounds in your chest, “Okay, your turn!” He groans like this is the worst possible thing that’s ever happened to him and drags his feet to the bathroom, muttering to himself about how you two kiss all the time with morning breath or after dessert.

When he comes back, there’s a spring in his step. He stops in the hallway and calls out to you to stay right where you are. You nod and obey, slapping your palms on your sides as you wait for him to do his thing.

In the blink of an eye, tape shoots past you as he flies in front of you. You watch in awe as he rapidly jumps around the room, his tape sticking to various objects like the half-emptied bookshelves and couch until he wraps it around the tape-saturated ceiling fan.

You squeal as he covers it in impossibly more tape, “Hanta! You’re gonna break it, oh my god!” Your boyfriend has that cheeky smirk plastered across his face as he lowers himself down to you from the fan, hanging upside down. Your jaw is slack as he dangles right in front of you, his lips perfectly aligned with yours.

He says cockily, “You have a knack for getting in trouble.”

You groan, “Ugghhh Hanta.” You’re tempted to shove him just to see him swing from the ceiling, but you think better of it as you hear your fan creak.

He chuckles, “Fine fine, c’mere, MJ, n’ gimme a kiss.”

Sighing, you grab the sides of his face and tenderly kiss him. His lips are so warm and soft against yours, making you smirk. You knew that chapstick you bought for him last week was so worth it. He grips your hips and tugs you closer to him, making you yelp into his mouth. He swallows the sound whole as you tilt your head, the wet sounds of your kisses filling the air.

Once the ceiling fan groans like it’s on its last straw, you pull back and gaze up at it with wide eyes before looking at your boyfriend.

“Hanta!” You shriek.

He laughs breathily, “I know, I know. ‘M getting down now.”

You two spend the rest of the night cleaning up your living room. Hanta insisted that you sit down and relax, and you tried to really, took a shower, did a face mask and everything. But your poor pookie desperately needed help with ordering his comics by universe and release date. And the entire time, he was yapping off your ear about how cool he is.

Despite your attempts to humble him, you can’t help the smile permanently tattooed across your lips every time you think about your kiss, and more importantly, your very cool boyfriend.

the bird in me

hawks x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — bird mating drabbles, throwing up, you're a barista, fluff, sexual implications at the end, 3.5k words

a/n: this has to be one of my favourite works so far

regurgitation

it’s bad. every time he sees you, he can feel the churning in his stomach. something as simple as a smile or wave is enough to have his fist pressed to his lips, loudly clearing his suddenly tight throat.

every time you talk, he’s trying hard not to make a fool of himself (and failing miserably). he’s constantly ahem-ing or coughing, anything to push the rising bile back down his oesophagus.

he wills himself to be a man, to take the acidic burn with pride because he’s fortunate enough to be acknowledged by such a beautiful and intelligent girl. but by the five-minute mark, he’s excusing himself to the bathroom and throwing up this morning’s breakfast.

you thought he was just shy at first, but as it continues to happen, you begin to think he doesn’t like you.

the bell chimes as the café door swings shut. you gaze over the coffee machine, spotting those bright red feathers against the gloom of the night.

you take a deep breath in, rolling your eyes as you drawl, “we closed ten minutes ago, mr hawks.” a nervous laugh, your interest is piqued.

“i know, dove, but i wanted to see you,” he says confidently, only to clear his throat right afterwards.

your brow furrows, and you say more bluntly than intended, “well, i don’t know. you’re always trying to run away from me. your usual?”

“yes please,” he says, waltzing over to you. he rests his weight against the bench, watching you brew his double-shot cappuccino. ahem. he continues. “and i’m not trying to run away from you. never have—”

“doesn’t seem that way to me,” you cut him off. he coughs ostentatiously into his elbow, his face heating up from the sheer strength it’s taking to not throw up right now. he can’t help it!

you continue as you pour the thick foam into the takeaway cup, “you’ve only got few minutes for me before you’re dashing off. i mean i know you’re busy, but do you not have any better excuses? like, for a pro hero, you sure are shit at lying.” you’re glaring holes into the creamy milk as you shake chocolate powder on top of it.

you mumble, “if you don’t like me you can just say so.” the snap of the lid on the little paper cup echoes through the empty café. hawks hears his heart crack a little at your words. not like you? how could he not like you?! wasn’t it obvious—ahem!

he gasps, “bathroom?” you roll your eyes.

“at the back. hey!” your arms are raised as you glare after him, watching as he rushes to the bathroom.

you whisper-yell to yourself, “what the fuck?!” you slide his hot coffee to the edge of the bench and huff, fed up with his perplexing behaviour. if the night wasn’t so still, and the streets surrounding your tiny café so quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him violently throwing up in the men’s bathroom. but you do.

your eyes widen and then crinkle as you wince, wishing that such disgusting sounds weren’t ricocheting off the walls. you pull the bow of your apron loose and shrug it off, leaving it on a nearby table as you make your way to the bathrooms.

you hear the toilet flush as you body slam the heavy, olive green door open. white lights sting your eyes as you search for any sign of your most loyal customer. you find him resting against an open stall door, eyes closed, lips chapped, and forehead beading with sweat.

“mr hawks?” you say gently. his golden eyes shoot open and find you immediately. he smiles incredulously, and his voice is thick as he rasps, “this is the men’s ro—”

“shut the fuck up. are you okay?” you shift closer to him, but he moves back, calves hitting the toilet seat. you stop in your tracks, caging him in the small stall. his eyes dart to the side as he weighs up how to get out of the corner he’s backed himself into.

seeing his nervousness, you sigh. you turn and begin to walk out of the bathroom. he catches your elbow by the sinks and pulls you into his chest. you yelp as you hit his solid frame, utterly bewildered. his large hands gently squeeze your upper arms as you tilt your head up, gazing at him.

you mutter, “what is it?” he shakes his head, eyes dropping and unintentionally resting on your collarbone peeking out of your uniform. great, the pro hero thinks. that familiar sensation is reignited at the base of his throat.

he chokes out, “i-just give me a minute.” he let’s go of your arms and wanders back into the stall, shutting the door and bolting it this time. you groan, wrapping your arms around yourself as you listen to him throw up again, his chunky symphony amplified by these fuck ass tiles.

interjecting the flush of the toilet is the stall door slamming open. out strolls a lazily grinning hawks. he chuckles, “don’t tell me you have to clean in here.”

you sigh, “of course i do.”

he stops in front of you and shrugs, “then give me the mop and bucket and i’ll take care of it, alright?”

you shake your head, muttering, “look don’t worry about that. are you okay? what’s going on? you just threw up like twice. do you have food pois—”

“i feel great, actually. now, about what you were saying earlier,” he reaches out and takes your hands in his awfully clammy ones.

your shoulders slump as you huff, trying to pull your hands back. “hawks—”

“ya know, i really wish you would stop calling me that, dove.” he draws you in close, his body heat seeping through his clothes into you.

you retort, “and i really wish that you would stop interrupting me.” he opens his mouth, sucking in a breath as though he’s about to speak, and then he doesn’t.

the stifling air is quiet for a moment before the pro hero mutters, “sorry.” you shake your head as your mouth draws into a hard line. but you inevitably soften as he jerks away from you, coughing.

quietening down, he rasps, “i really like you, okay? i’m not trying to run away from you. quite the opposite, actually.” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, concerned that you can feel his heart jumping out of his chest. at least his stomach isn’t lurching anymore. he really did need that release.

seconds pass in tense silence as you wait for him to explain. he sighs, “i swear, y/n, i like you.”

“but,” you say, emphasising the ‘t’. he looks away from you, gathering his courage for what he’s about to say.

he breathes out, “don’t laugh, okay?” you nod, about to tear your hair out from the suspense. this man really knows how to dodge questions, you think.

“every time i see you… i wanna throw up.” he mutters that last part at the end as he gazes down at the minute crevices between your bodies.

your eyes widen as you exclaim, “you what?!” he grip tightens on your hands as he shakes his head fervently.

“because-um-it’s a bird thing. i wanna throw up because i like you, okay?” your mouth hangs half-open as you try to register his words.

he brings your hands to his lips and chastely kisses your knuckles. you stare at him in disbelief, stuttering, “i-it’s a bird thing? you-you wanting to throw up every time you see me?”

he nods, “technically, i want to regurgitate every time i see you. the bird part of me wants to prove to you that i’m a good partner.”

that night, you make sure he’s had some food and electrolytes before drinking his cold cappuccino.

preening

ever since you two started dating, it’s become a routine for kei to preen his feathers just before bed, and for you to simply sit across from him on the sofa, reading a book, scrolling on your phone, or watching him.

but tonight as you take up your usual spot on the couch, kei plops down next to you. he gently nudges your arm, catching your attention.

you mumble, “what is it, babe?” as you lock your phone. he kisses from your cheek to your jaw, earning an airy giggle from you.

he mutters into your skin, “will you preen my wings tonight?” your eyes widen as you let out a stuttered breath.

you pull back, saying nervously, “k-kei, honey, you sure? i’ve never preened anything before.” he hums as he slides off the couch and sits on the floor in front of you. he holds up a bottle of oil and you take it from him while explains how to preen his feathers.

you start with the feathers closest to his body and work your way out, from top to bottom. as your fingers work over his feathers, pulling debris from them and realigning the barbs, your bird boy hums.

you drop another piece of tarmac on the coffee table, saying, “you could hide a fucking road in here with how much rubble i’m pulling out right now.” kei chuckles and sighs, feeling you remove yet another remnant of today’s battles.

“are they always this dirty?” you question. your hero nods. it takes longer for you to preen him than if kei were to preen his feathers, but he appreciates your delicate and loving touch.

and the next night, he asks if you can preen his wings again. and soon, your routine has changed to you preening his feathers every night before bed.

gift-giving, scent marking, nesting

the cold winter nights warm and scrawny branches bloom with flowers, signifying that spring has arrived.

it was subtle at first, kei would bring home flowers for you every few days, claiming that his perfect girl deserved to be spoiled. and he claimed the same when he started making the most delicious dinners for you two every night, and when he started gifting you the most luxurious necklaces and shoes and bags you’ve ever owned.

when you woke up this morning, your bed sheets smelt of citrus. so fresh and divine, you sighed and rolled around, cocooning yourself in the quilt to get another whiff of that scent. you liked the smell so much that you got out of bed still wrapped up in the quilt, and dragged it around home with you all day (it’s your day off).

as kei closes the door behind him after another long day, you rush up to him, quilt left lonely. you throw yourself into his awaiting arms, sighing as his zesty scent washes over you. you sigh, melding your body against his as you inhale his musk.

he chuckles softly, “hey, dove. missed me, huh?”

you hum and mumble into his compression shirt, “you smell so good. since when did you smell like citrus though?” pulling back and pointing to the quilt on the sofa, you continue, “i thought you just bought some new laundry detergent or something.”

kei shrugs it off, claiming that he bought a new cologne (lies). but not before he draws you back into his arms and rubs the side of his face and neck all over your face and neck. sighing, you let him off the hook but resolve to keep an eye on him.

rummaging through his duffle bag, he says excitedly, "d'you wanna see what i got you, dove?" you press your lips together, disappointed by kei's spending habits lately. but not for long as he hands you a sealed box of the perfume you've been eying for years (it's vanilla2 by maison tahité for me).

you squeal in delight and thank him profusely, smothering his cheeks and lips and stubble with kisses before skipping off to your room to try your new perfume (kei rocks you gently as you have a cry over how blessed you are to have such an attentive partner).

for the next week, you swear you can hear shuffling in the early hours of the morning. as soon as you lift your head off the pillows though and search the dark room for some kind of movement, everything stills. you usually fall back asleep, but tonight is a bit different.

again, you wake to muffled sounds emanating from somewhere in your apartment. groaning, you bury your head into your pillow, only to rise from it a minute later when you hear a loud thud. roused from your sleepy daze, you get out of bed and caress the door frame for wayyy too long before you eventually find the light switch.

your eyes adjust to the sudden brightness quickly, and everything looks the same as it usually does. but something is missing. or rather, someone.

you step out of your shared bedroom and stare down the hall, seeing a familiar glow curling its fingers beneath one of the doors. as you approach it, you realise that the light is coming from kei’s office.

but it’s not just the light that is coming from his office. this sound, like something sliding against the floorboards, resonates from behind the wooden door.

you stand outside his office, leaning your ear against the door to eavesdrop. but the noise stops abruptly, as if kei (who you assume is inside) knows you’re right there.

you turn the doorknob and push the door open, revealing a dishevelled-looking kei amidst a heap of blankets. you blink at him dumbly, sleepily, and confused.

“kei,” you drawl. “what’re you doing?” he chuckles nervously as he stands from his crouched position and comes over to you, tripping on a blanket’s edge in the process. you catch his upper arms and help him to steady himself.

he gazes at you frantically, muttering, “’mnotdoinganythingchickpea. whydon’twegobacktobed?” his hands encircle your wrists and gently push you back toward the door. you shake your head.

“keigo takami,” you say in that serious tone parents reserve for when their child misbehaves. “what’re tryna hide from me?”

“nothing!” he exclaims far too loudly and quickly. you raise your brow at him while your eyes trail over his messy hair and half-unbuttoned pj shirt. you catch a glimpse of his toned muscles and golden-brown snail trail beneath the soft cotton. you gulp and avert your eyes to the mess behind him. he side steps, blocking your view.

you groan, “keigo.”

“please dove, promise i’ll show you later, okay?” he pleads.

you roll your eyes, sighing, “you cooking up a grand masterpiece or something back there?” he nods and hums. you let him have his way, following him back to bed and curling tight into his chest, hoping he won’t be able to get away without waking you.

for the next week, you’re banned from entering kei’s office. he claims that he’s working on a big surprise for you, which melts your heart and makes you laugh.

one night after dinner, he takes you by the hand and leads you to his office. dramatic as ever, he makes you close your eyes before he opens the door and guides you inside. when you open your eyes, you see the fruits of his efforts.

before you lies a little nook crafted out of throws and cushions. you giggle as you take in his little nest. it looks so cosy and inviting. 

you exclaim, “kei, this is so sweet!” you turn around and warmly hug him, content to nuzzle into his zesty scent. he kisses your forehead and nudges you closer to his nest. he holds your hand as you sit down in the centre of it, relishing in his overpowering musk. he sits next to you and cuddles with you, peppering your face and neck with tender kisses as he mumbles against your hot flesh how much he loves you.

interpretive dance and singing

it’s the peak of spring; the flowers are in full bloom, the skies are blue, and the temperature is just right for you to wear all your favourite dresses.

tonight is like most other nights. after preening kei’s feathers, you take a shower. you’re soothing moisturiser into your skin as your boyfriend comes into view. you gaze at him in the mirror, smiling brightly. he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, ignorant of the damp towel enveloping your body.

pouring body oil into your palm, you tell him to move. but he doesn’t budge an inch. instead, he wipes the oil out of your palm and warms it in his rough hands. he caresses your shoulders, briefly massaging them before rubbing the oil into your back. his fingertips dip below the towel’s edge, earning a sigh from you.

you tilt your head back to look at your lover. he grins down at you and gently kisses you while wrapping his arms around yours and pulling you back into his firm body.

craving his sweetness, you turn around in his hold, cupping his cheeks and deepening the kiss. tongues swirl and ignite a buried fire in the pits of your stomachs.

kei’s hands roam your body as he sucks on your lower lip. such teasing touches have your towel slipping and eventually pooling on the bathroom floor. he grips your hips, squeezing them as he groans into your mouth.

you two separate for a brief moment, catching your breath and each other’s eyes. he gazes at you lustfully; he’s desperate to mould your body to his all night long, to make you his in the most intimate of ways.

your fingers trail up his exposed biceps before you wrap your arms around his neck. you draw him down to you, smirking as you whisper in his ear, “i know you want me, baby.”

he chuckles gruffly against your skin, the sound doing unholy things to you. his citrusy scent is intoxicating up this close. you breathe in deeply, his thick musk filling your lungs.

he rasps, “yea, i do. i want you so bad, dove.” you hum before nipping at his ear lobe. the small gesture sends a thrill of pleasure shuddering throughout his body.

kei should know this by now, but nothing comes for free. he’s seen the cruelty of this world, and even though you’re his escape from it all, he shouldn’t be as wide-eyed and breathless from your next words.

“oh yea? show me,” you whisper seductively. it’s like everything was dark before you spoke. and now that you have, the lights have been switched on. your words are like the gospel, true and calling him to action. and yet, they’re so impure. kei has been enlightened.

he steps back from you, the cool air wafting over your bare skin. your nipples harden as you bite your lip, looking at him nervously. your lover shakes his head, saying lowly, “meet me in the living room once you’re done.” you hum as you nod, rather intrigued by kei’s sudden change in mood.

when you’ve finally finished your post-shower routine, you head to the living room. your jaw slackens, and your brows raise as you enter, seeing the coffee table moved and couches pushed back to create space in the centre. you blink dumbly as he comes over to you.

he wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you to one of the sofas, saying cockily, “take a seat, chickpea.” you follow his instruction, making yourself comfortable on the sofa while your boyfriend steps back. he catches your eyes, the look in his awfully serious.

you ask confused, “kei, what’s going on?” he shakes his head.

clearing his throat, he begins to sing. you blink at him dumbly as you register his sweet praises that are surprisingly on-key. he spreads his arms wide before rolling his wrists and body in time with his words. you grab the nearest cushion and hold it tight as your mouth hangs open.

your eyes are trained on his quick, rhythmic movements. he spins around and jumps, his voice never faltering. you shriek playfully as he locks eyes with you. his wings spread out to his sides, his beautiful feathers on full display. you can feel your face heating up, cooking beneath the heat of this moment.

you can’t stop staring at him, drinking in how good he is at interpretive dance. you shriek again as he slaps his thighs in a wide stance. your laugh is stuttered as you raise the cushion up, blocking your view of him.

his singing stops and in a moment, the cushion is snatched from your hands and hurled across the room.

he pants, “’m not done, dove. watch me.”

you stutter in disbelief, “n-not done?” he hums as he steps back, ready to continue his performance.

shaking your head, you exclaim, “kei, kei, it’s okay! you don’t have to keep going.”

he pouts, “don’t you like my dance? or my song?” you’re rendered speechless as you stare at him. he tilts his head toward you expectantly, but you can’t speak. you’re far too stunned by his musical display to say anything. the air shifts as he chuckles softly and steps toward you. he plops down on top of you, squishing you against the sofa.

he mutters into the crook of your neck, “did i show you have much i want you?” you groan from his weight as you thread your fingers through his hair.

you kiss his damp forehead, saying amusedly, “oh yea. i, uh, i liked that song you sang. what’s it called? ‘the bird in me’?” he bites your shoulder lightly, but the sudden sensation makes you gasp.

your hands are already shoving at his chest as he grunts sarcastically, “yea, it’s called ‘the bird in me’. i wrote it just for you, chickpea.” he raises his head and pulls off you a little, giving you a bit of breathing room. your chest rises high, grazing his as you take in the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“now, let me have my reward.”

okay but like bakugou x seamstress fem!reader. you’re a fashion designer and have your own small label. for every event your husband goes to, he’s in one of your designs that was, of course, made by you.

he groans as you sit on the floor, one knee bent as you push up your glasses. you’ve got your tape measure wrapped around katsuki’s lower leg.

he thinks you look absolutely adorable as you concentrate on taking his measurements. he still finds odd that you insist on always re-taking his measurements every few months, but he's learned to shrug it off and let you have your way.

“i wanna make sure your clothes look good, suki!” you chime. you pushed him back by the shoulders, leading him to the centre of the living room where he now stands, peering down at you.

tingles erupt underneath his skin as your delicate, pin-pricked fingertips run up his shin to his thigh, tape measure gliding through his blond hair. and when you gaze up at him with those pretty lined eyes, he comes undone.

his heart beats calmly as you say, “you’re thighs have gotten bigger.” tch.

he huffs, “what’s that supposed t’mean?” you poke his thigh innocently, meeting his crimson eyes with a similar look.

you grin, “probably because it’s winter.” you gaze back at the tape measure before recording his new measurement in your trusty notebook. you can feel him glaring at you, but you know it’s in jest. you then measure his other leg and hips.

coming to his waist, you giggle, “and your waist has gotten bigger too.”

your husband grumbles, “yea, well, don’t get used to it. by summer, it’ll all be gone.” you look up at him, your palm cupping his cheek as you guide his gaze to yours.

you say sweetly, “but i like you like this.” with your other hand, you poke the fresh fat of his tummy. there’s not too much. just enough so he’s more cuddly now.

“oi! quit it, brat!” he steps back, evading your wandering hands.

you pout playfully, “oh come on, suki! let me finish my measurements, please.” he gives in after a minute of staring down at you, feigning irritation whilst utterly entranced by your soft gaze.

once you finish, you peck him on the cheek and skip off happily to your sewing room to start designing his new suit.

…⊹₊⟡⋆…

at the annual pro heroes gala, no one can take their eyes off your husband. you really outdid yourself this time, sewing his suit to perfection.

you only finished it a few hours ago as you had been making some last-minute alterations. all of the sweat and tiny pricks and screaming as you seam ripped was all worth it as your husband looks delicious. you could take a bite out of him the way the fabric falls over his skin, hugging his 50 pounds of ass and meaty biceps. you can’t decide which one you want to devour first.

seeing your dazed expression, katsuki comes back to you, eager to rid himself of old acquaintances and false pleasantries. he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you into his side tightly as he mutters into your hairline, “everything okay, sweets?”

you hum, snapping out of it and gazing up at him. you say quietly, “just thinking about how good you look tonight. everyone keeps staring at you.”

katsuki chuckles gruffly, the sound pure ecstasy to your ears. “all because of you, doll.” you shake your head in protest, but your husband grabs your chin and tilts it back. your lips brush lightly, teasingly.

he whispers against them, “why don’t cha let me show you how grateful i am?” you bite on your lower lip as you think over his offer that you’re bound to accept. the little movement drives him crazy. crazy enough to smash his lips onto yours as photographers rapidly snap pictures.

the next morning, you’re sore. there’s no doubt about that. you groan as you roll over, taking in a grinning katsuki as he pulls you close, hand in his phone as he scrolls through twitter.

there are a million comments about you both: your kiss, your incredible design and sewing skills, how hot pro hero dynamight is, how lucky you are to be his wife.

you tilt your head up and kiss his jaw, mumbling into it a sleepy “good morning”. he hums as he tightens his grip on your hips.

after bellowing about a comment he read, katsuki draws you in impossibly closer and kisses your forehead. the heat of his lips lingers on your skin as he peppers kisses down to your ear. he grumbles, “love you.”

you sigh, curling your toes from the warmth spreading throughout your body. “i love you, too.”

they see you in lingerie v.3

lov x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — implied smut, 770 words

ua students, pro heroes

todoroki touya (dabi)

⭑.ᐟ you don’t get a chance to walk out of the wardrobe as dabi barges in. he was getting impatient with how long you were taking. as soon as he lays eyes on you, his usual smirk stretches across his phase. his gaze is filled with pride and lust at how sexy his girl looks for him. you’re in blue, the set matches his sharp eyes.

“well, what do you have here?” he teases. you giggle as he slowly steps forward, charred fingers slipping from the doorknob.

“you gonna spin for me?” he asks in the lazy drawl. he’s standing a little way in front of you, hands slipping into his pockets. he stares at you expectantly. you nod and twirl slowly for him. you love the feeling of his undivided attention on you.

dabi can’t resist it when you wear blue. makes him feel something when he sees how much you adore him, enough to drape your body in the colour of his eyes and flames.

he can’t take it anymore. he closes the gap between you and grabs your roughly by the waist. you’re giggling coyly as you fall into his chest. his hand is already on your jaw, fingers pressing hard into your flesh and forcing your head back and up to look into those ocean eyes.

that night he claims you for himself in more ways than just physical.

shimura tenko (shigaraki tomura)

⭑.ᐟ when you step out, you catch sight of shigaraki. he’s sitting on the edge of your bed, fully engrossed in the video game he’s playing. he got impatient and decided to resume his game as you were taking your sweet time.

he doesn’t notice you step out cause he’s about to win. you couldn’t care less though. in fact, you’re a bit annoyed that he couldn’t just wait until you were done showing him the lingeries set you had got for him, to resume his game.

you stalk over to him, coming to stand right in front of him, blocking his view of the TV. your arms are crossed over your chest. your boyfriend glares at your frame momentarily before putting the controller down with a sigh and looking up at you. you’re staring down at him harshly.

“what?” he huffs. you narrow your eyes at him. “really? you couldn’t wait.” you say, your pretty forehead creased. at this, shigaraki looks away for a second before focusing back on you. “no," he says as he leans forward, eyes trailing over your curvaceous figure. he does so for a few moments before standing up and heading to the drawer beside your bed. he pulls out a pair of black drawing gloves and you know that tonight’s gonna be good.

he used to fumble a lot in the beginning, when you two were becoming more intimate. but, he’s a fast learner. the gloves are there just in case shigaraki’s control over his quirk falters.

bubaigawara jin (twice)

⭑.ᐟ when you come out, there’s at least six of jin’s clones crowding the bedroom while the real jin sits on the bed. you can tell it’s him as he’s just staring at you, silently appreciating the breath-taking sight that is you. he’s still in his villain costume.

jin’s clones start coming up to you, telling you how gorgeous you look. one takes your hands while another wraps their arm around your waist. you giggle, flattered by all of the attention. you look over to the real jin, tilting your head to the side as he continues to stare at you.

you wanted it to just be you two tonight, as usually his clones are always around.

jin just keeps looking at you beneath the white sockets of his mask, admiring you. confused as to how such a perfect goddess could possibly be interested in him.

as another clone fingers the lace of your panties, you turn slightly and whine at it. looking back at jin, you run slightly to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and coming to straddle his lap.

“jin,” you pout. “jin, can it just be us tonight?” his covered hands come to your waist and upper back.

“just us?” he questions softly into your ear. you nod, leaning back and cupping his face in your hands. you stare into those white sockets, searching for his gray-blue eyes beneath.

“just you and me,” you say smiling at him. he gently rubs your upper arms with his thumbs. you can here the incessant chatter of his clones cease as they melt, dripping onto the carpet to disintegrate.

you give him a kiss through his mask, knowing that it’s too much to ask his to take it off. he’s doing enough right now, choosing to love you like this.

will there be a part two to ur recent smau? specifically bakugos cauz..................what was that ending indicating 😭😭

tbh that ending was unplanned. i was just fucking around and hoping for the best.

idk i'd make a pt 2, like where i would go with it. maybe the boys and their gf break up and reader wants to slide in😳 hold up nonnie i think i'm cooking.

upgrade epilogue

pro hero! midoriya izuku x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, 1.2k words, hope you like the ring

pt.1, pt.2, pt.3

You and Izuku were sitting on the couch in your cosy apartment. It’s been almost nine months since the quirk breeding rescue incident, and Izuku’s recovery has been swift. He’s taking time off from being a pro hero whilst adjusting to his cybernetic arm. That was part of it. Another part was that he wanted to spend some time training One For All. And the final part was that he wanted to spend some quality time with you. Which was hard because you were still working full-time as a biomed engineer.

His cybernetic arm was currently resting on your lap. The compartment beneath his inner wrist was popped open, and you were adjusting the screws with a screw driver, magnifying goggles on giving you big, adorable [e/c] eyes. He could feel his heart racing from how cute and talented his girlfriend was. He watched quietly, other hand resting on your knees that were curled up beneath you. He caressed the soft flesh with the rough pad of his thumb.

You hummed the beat of that song that had been stuck in your head for days as you worked away. Bobbing your head unconsciously and sucking in your cheeks (making ozempy face) when the screw wouldn’t screw or nut refused to nut (you are most welcome for that btw). You were so focused that you didn’t notice Izuku beginning to blush.

The truth is, he’s been waiting for this moment for months. Not this specific moment. I mean, you’ve done maintenance checks on his arm many times since it was attached. No. The moment I’m talking about is the moment he intended to propose you. Which was this moment, right now.

He just couldn’t wait any longer. Man had to wife you up this instant.

He took his right hand off of your knee, rubbing the back of his neck with it as he sighed quietly. You were furrowing your brows, completely oblivious, at a particularly difficult screw to unscrew. Izuku was tempted to smooth the lines with his thumb, but stopped short, hand ghosting your brows. What was he doing? Overthinking every little thing?

He cleared his throat reflexively. The silence draws on. Comfortable for one person and rather tense for the other. Once you’re finished screwing the compartment back, his cybernetic arm roaring and ready to go, you sit back and sigh happily. You use one hand to drag the heavy goggles off of your face, which unfortunately (and expectantly) leaves your [h/c] locks sticking up in a few places. Izuku laughs nervously, running his fingers through your hair much to your delight. You smile up at him lazily. Once he stops, you get up off of the sofa, grabbing your tools from the cushions and low coffee table.

His eyes dip to your cleavage mindlessly as you lean over to grab one of the smaller screw drivers that’s gotten squished into the cushion creases next to his thigh. He looks up and away, blushing, once realising what he’s done (which you have absolutely no idea of or problem with). He clears his throat again, hand scratching an existent-non-existent itch on his cybernetic arm.

Once you leave the lounge room to put your tools away in your bag, Izuku lets out a frustrated sigh he’s been holding in. He stands up, shaking his hands nervously and watching your figure with anxiety as you re-enter the room. You’re still oblivious to his nerves, too caught up in thinking about what you were going to make for dinner that night. You two had ran out of white radish, a staple in your household, so you were thinking of what other veg you were going to have. Probably steamed broccoli or—

“Honey.” You look at Izuku, like, really look at him, and notice how on edge he seems. Shifting from one foot to the other, left hand on the back of his neck, looking at you then away from you and then back at you.

You step towards him, taking his right hand in yours, interlacing your hands so your palms press together. “What’s up? You seem tense.” Your soft lips stretch into an even softer smile as you try to ease his nerves. He just shakes his head, looking down momentarily before meeting your gaze once more.

What he does next leaves your eyes popping out of your skull and mouth half open in shock. He gets down on one knee and cups both of your hands with his much larger ones. You just stare at him, blinking slowly, trying to process what’s going on — if this is going on — when he starts, “Honey, I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know. You’ve been there for me during the hardest times. You’ve supported me and given me hope even when I felt hopeless.”

He takes a deep breath in, resolve clear in his eyes. He takes out a navy velvet ring box from the pocket of his sweatpants. You watch intently as he opens it, placing the box in your hand. Oh my gosh, is he about to-to…?

“[Y/n]-chan, I love you and I want to be your husband. Will you…” He licks his lips, feeling their sudden dryness. Your eyes follow the movement. He lets out another breath, “Will you marry me?”

You don’t say anything for a few seconds as you try to process if this is actually real and not a dream. “M-marry you?” You stutter. You see his resolve shatter a little as he nods, biting his lip. You breathe out, a smile forming on your face. “Of course, I’ll marry you Izu-chan!”

Grinning wide like you are, he pulls the engagement ring from the box and slips it onto your ring finger. It fits perfectly. You admire the ring. It’s stunning! Dainty silver band with a shining rectangle cut emerald. You’re actually obsessed with his choice as it really suits you and you love how the emerald is green like his features.

He wraps your smaller frame in a tight embrace. You start crying from the sheer joy of this moment. You’re so happy right now. Nothing can describe how good this feels. He rubs your back in circles, gently soothing you.

You two stay like that, whispering “I love you’s” to each other as you both process this emotional high. After a few minutes, you start giggling and pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You take the side of your lower lip in-between your teeth, still grinning. It releases, the flesh bouncing back perfectly supple. “I love you so much, Izu-chan.” You pull his face closer to yours, bringing your forehead to his. He hums, “I love you, honey. Forever.”

You don’t think you can handle anymore of the teeth-rotting sweet things he’ll say to you for the rest of the night, so you press your lips to his. He eagerly responds, head angling with yours and hands moving so his right grips your upper back and left your waist. You smile into this kiss, unable to stop, knowing that you’ll be Mrs Midoriya soon. And that your pookie bear will be your pookie and only your pookie for as long as possible.

how they eat food (e.g. messy, fast, etc)

izu, katsuki, shoto, kiri, shinso, shiggy

wc: 380

midoriya izuku

definitely eats like a baby

talking between bites, making him a slow eater

sometimes forgets that’s he’s eating because he’s so wrapped in conversation

any pastry or any finger food, he plays with and tears up as he listens to the conversation

when alone, he still plays with his food, pushing it around his plate and making images of All Might or other pro heroes out of the different ingredients

bakugou katsuki

is one of those fast, big-mouthed eaters

piece of toast is gone in three bites, two if he’s in a rush

definitely has sauce spilled on his lips and chins from how much food he shoves in his mouth at once

doesn’t take breaks between bites, only if he’s calling one of his friends a nerd or telling them to shut up

todoroki shoto

eats like how you would expect him too, quiet and reserved

one of those eaters who is hunched over his plate, slurping noodles or soup

usually sits cross-legged

doesn’t usually talk when he eats; he prefers to listen (as per usual)

hasn’t spilt a drop of sauce or dropped a soba noodle since he was six

kirishima eijiro

is one of those eaters who won’t stop yapping and making all of these large hand gestures

he’s not really focused on eating as he’s too focused on the fire conversation he’s initiating

BUT, even though he’s talking lots, he’s shoving food into his mouth and gulping it down so that he can keep talking

definitely spills his drinks or knocks the soup from how involved he is in the convo

shinso hitoshi

is a lazy eater

he’s pretty sleepy and chill when eating ⟶ he’ll eat just about anything

definitely rests his head on his palm when eating

listener > talker

food has definitely fallen from his chopsticks because he got distracted between picking it up and putting it in his mouth

shigaraki tomura

definitely picks at his food in disdain

doesn’t care how it tastes, he’ll eat anything; he just doesn’t care for eating when he could be doing more important things (like playing video games)

HATES finger food as he doesn’t want it to decay between his fingers (because it’s definitely happened before)

if he’s in a mood or if one of the league members tries his patience, he might accidentally decay his utensils Kurogiri sighs

after he proposed, you became a stay-at-home fiancé. and now, you’re getting into your ✨baking era✨.

you’ve been waiting for the bananas to get just ripe enough to make banana bread. the other day, when your beloved reached for one of those golden arches, you panicked and yelled at him to put it down.

shoto's beautiful eyes went so wide and his jaw slack as he took in the wild sight you were. he merely chuckled and placed the banana back in the fruit bowl as you ran over to him from your spot on the couch, apologising for raising your voice and reassuring him that his abstinence was for the good of your future baked treat.

you remember his sacrifice as you pour wholemeal flour into a large bowl and mix it with cinnamon and baking powder. you had a cute little apron on; the one you sewed from the vintage fabric shoto bought you for your birthday.

you hum softly as you mash the bananas in a separate bowl before adding the whisked eggs and vanilla extract. you’re determined to make him the best banana bread ever!

the sweet aroma fills the apartment as you rest your feet on the coffee table, allowing your creation to come to life in the oven. you check the time and sigh with relief as you calculate that you’ve still got an hour before shoto finishes patrol and retires to his agency to finish the banana bread.

once it’s golden brown, you take it out of the oven. you squeal in delight, seeing the swirly pattern you made with cinnamon and walnuts perfected. you let the banana bread cool for a good half an hour before taking it out of the pan, cutting it into thick slices, and popping a few in a container. you make sure to pack some butter, almond butter (his fav), and honey before leaving the apartment.

after getting off the train, you walk to his agency. you greet the receptionist who informs you that your hero just got back. with a ‘thank you!’, you take the elevator to the top floor.

you gently knock on his office door and push it open as you hear him call out from inside. he gazes at you with tender, mismatched eyes as you enter, shaking the banana bread container from side to side with excitement. 

you chirp, “i made you some banana bread, honey!” he hums as you walk further into the room. he’s got papers stacked in the corner of his desk and a mellow smile on his full lips as always. you pull up a chair and sit across from him, popping open the lid and letting the smell curl deliciously in the cold air. you fish around in your bag for the paper plates, cutlery, and toppings you brought. after setting them down in the middle of his wooden desk, you scoop him out a slice.

he mutters, “looks good, darling.”

you gaze at him, quirking a brow as you grin, “yea?” he hums and thanks you quietly as you push the plate toward him. he happily listens to you yap away as he spreads almond butter on his slice.

seeing you struggle to spread the butter across your slice, he gently takes the little container from your hands and heats it in his palm before buttering it for you. your heart melts as the butter does into the baked good while you watch him swipe the knife on the crust, getting all of that sweet-saltiness onto your treat.

you two eat quietly, just basking in each other’s presence. shoto breaks the silence with a quiet moan followed by, “this is really nice, babe. still warm.” you nod enthusiastically, overjoyed to hear his praise.

you giggle, “i made it just for you.” he looks at you, eyes full of love and cheekies full of yummy goodness. following a gulp, he licks his pink lips and thumbs the corner of yours, claiming you were a bit messy (you were, really). your heart spikes as he brings his pale thumb back to his lips, sucking off the disobedient butter.

it pains you to leave him, all glowy in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, left to his mountain of reports and paperwork. but, he promises you that he’ll be home soon enough. after all, he can’t keep his hands off his beautiful fiancé for long.

what lurks in the dark pt.1

sub!bakugou x soft dom!succubus!reader⋆｡°✩ — nsfw, titty fuck, reader is obsessed with suki, kinda dubcon, mommy kink, reader is curvy, she talks him through it hehe, 3.9k words

pt.2

a/n: had to watch porn as a reference, i hath been scarred by “SiR lOok AT aLL tHAt CUM FoR Me.”

Once darkness envelops the world, you rise. It’s your time. Time to feed upon the lewd desires festering in the human world. And there’s one man who’s caught your attention.

In silence, you’ve been watching him. You’ve memorised his daily routine; the way he groans and scrunches his eyes when he wakes up in delirium, to the little ‘ahs’ he releases when pushing till failure in the gym, and the thud of his black duffel bag landing on the floor after a long day at work.

Such a delicious treat, you can’t help but lick your lips and purr every time he gets in the shower. The steam leaves far too much to your imagination as water pelts down his hard body.

Your fellow succubi call you odd for your fascination. I mean, your purpose is to get what you need and get out. There’s no time to linger, always moving on to the next victim. But, you feel so drawn to this one man. His lopsided grin is so charming, and his crimson eyes are the shade of your wings. And those veiny hands and forearms— You feel as though he’s meant for you. Meant to be ruined by you, that is.

It all started when you caught a glimpse of him on your travels all those months ago. Sweat-soaked to the bone, clad in his hero costume with blood smeared down the side of his face. What a sight, you had thought. You lurked in the shadows, edging closer and closer to him. Your eyes were trailing the taut pull of his muscles as he delivered blow after blow to the poor villain. You giggled, excited by the violence.

After the villain was taken away, the blond stalked off, shouting about how this sudden incident had interrupted his plans. Intrigued, you followed him home. Much to your surprise, there were no such plans after work. No, all he did was go home, clean himself up and grumble, eat leftover takeout, and go to bed.

Since then, you’ve been visiting him and over time, your abstinence has only heightened your obsession. Now, you are nearing the point of madness. So desperate for his seed, yet too nervous to take it.

You’re a succubus! A demon so seductive men can’t take their eyes off you. They obey your every command, pliant to your desires. Why would this time be any different? Did you want it to be?

You resolve that tonight will be the night you’ll finally have your fill. With a sweet chuckle, you hide in his wardrobe just in time for when the bedroom door clanks open. In walks a muttering Katsuki (as you’ve learnt, that’s his name), his brows are furrowed and his eyes narrow as he strips off his black tank.

You hum quietly in delight, the blond oblivious to your presence. He throws his top on the floor before unbuckling his belt (your favourite sound) and shimmying out of his jeans. He groans as he kicks his clothes into a crumpled pile in the corner.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to his rolling contours of muscle and exposed skin. His slight tan, those scars and veins all for your enjoyment. Your heart rate picks up and tingles disperse throughout your body as your mind conjures the most unholy images of your shared night to come.

He hastily turns off the bedroom light and flops into bed, grumbling something about hero rankings. You wait until he’s settled beneath the blankets, drifting in a dreamless consciousness, to make your move.

You creep out of the wardrobe and tiptoe to his huge window. Moonlight pours into the room, illuminating a half-asleep Katsuki. The blue glow settles on his face, making him look ethereal, even with that small crease in his brow.

Bobbing down, you rustle the curtains. He stirs instantly, causing a smirk to rise to your lips. You knew he was a light sleeper due to his line of work. Always ready for a threat, he sits up, scrunching then rubbing his ruby eyes. They look iridescent in the low lighting. You brush your hand through the curtains again, drawing his shrewd gaze.

He blinks wearily, trying to discern whether something was there or if he was really losing it. You’re lost to the dark crevices between his bed and side table. He stares at the window for a moment before grunting and crashing back down, throwing the blankets over him.

You crawl to the edge of his bed, grinning from ear to ear. Your eyes feast upon his figure, making out all of his limbs. You lean down and pinch his toes with precision. He shouts and sits up, his pretty eyes wide as he stares at you in shock. A winged creature, beautiful, dangerous, and in the skimpiest little clothes.

You giggle, enjoying his gaze. He shakes his head and stares at you, questioning if this is all a dream. You grab his ankles and tug at them, dragging him partway down the bed.

He shrieks, “WHAT THE FUCK?!” The blond claws at his sheets as you release him. He quickly moves into a low crouch with his hands outstretched. The pale light catches the beads of sweat dotting his palms. You smirk.

He shouts, “WHAT’S GOING ON?! HOW’D YOU GET IN HERE?!” You place your pointer finger on your lips, shushing him. He glares at you as you sway your hips, slowly walking to his side of the bed.

“DON’T COME NEAR ME, FREAK!” He shuffles back, afraid of what you might do if you come too close. You giggle as you place your knee on the mattress, sitting down so the slit of your skirt shows off your thigh’s tender flesh.

You pout, “Freak?” Cocking your brow, you say smugly, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lean forward, both hands pressing into the blankets as you approach him.

“I’LL PUT YOU ON YOUR ASS!” He yells at you, small sparks flaring from his palms. With lightning speed, you launch at him. Your soft body slams into his hard one, pushing him down onto the bed. He shouts in fright at the force; you pin his wrists by the sides of his head. You hum playfully, revelling in the sight of his eyes blown wide and jaw slack.

You coo, “What’s wrong, Katsuki?” His chest heaves, a contrast to your steady breathing. He groans as his gaze accidentally drops to your full chest. Fuck. Why did you have to look so delectable?

You lick your lips, ready to devour him whole. You lean down, pressing your chest against his while your lips ghost his ear. You nibble on his ear lobe, earning a choked-up sound from him.

He grumbles, “The fuck you think you’re doin’?” He knows he could probably throw you off. I mean, he is a foot taller than you and a literal wall of muscle. But he’s paralysed. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t move. Not a single inch without your command.

You whisper teasingly, “Aren’t you gonna put me on my ass?” He tenses up as you let go of his wrists, your hands stroking down his forearms. You squeeze them, groaning in his ear, “These drive me insane.” Your grip then shifts to his biceps. “And these,” you exhale hungrily.

He gulps as your hands slide to his bare pecs, your fingers circling his hard nipples. You suck on the sensitive spot beneath his ear, eliciting a groan as you pinch his nipples. You pull back with a sloppy sound and admire the fresh red mark you’ve left on his skin.

Your eyes find his as your hands slide up and wrap around his neck. You feel his Adam’s apple bob beneath your stroking thumbs. Giggling, you apply the lightest pressure and observe as Katsuki’s breath stammers.

He mutters, “Whaddya doin’ now, woman?”

You click your tongue at him, tutting low, “Don’t use that tone with me, baby.” He rolls his eyes at you. Fuckin brat. You grab his chin harshly with one hand, your long, cherry-red nails pressing into his cheeks. You tilt his head back, his lips parting just how you want them to.

Keeping a firm grip on his throat, you lean forward and brush your lips against his. You state against them, “You should know better than to sass me, Katsuki. I am a demon after all.”

Hearing your words, he lets out the quietest little whimper; music to your ears. You smirk against his full lips, “That’s it, honey. Now open up for me.” He’s obedient, letting you tip his head back and part his lips just as you requested.

Katsuki swears his heart misses a beat as you spit in his mouth. He stares at you, eyes dark as the clouds shadow the moon, unmoving. Your saliva spreads like wildfire across his tongue, so sweet. And as you push his mouth closed, he has no choice but to swallow it.

You praise him, “Look at you, being such a good boy for me, huh?” He opens his mouth to speak, but no words escape. Because there are no words.

He’s never been treated like this before. Never had a woman take control like this. His mind is racing just like his heartbeat, an anomaly in the quiet calm of the night. You chuckle before pressing your lips to his, kissing him tenderly. Your lips are even sweeter, unlike anyone he’s ever tasted before. Your kiss provides him with much-needed clarity, while your wandering hands have blood rushing to his neck and ears… and other places, too.

He yearns to touch you, yet a phantom still pins his hands next to his head. He tries to move them, but he can’t. Frustrated, he gently nibbles your lip, causing you to pull back in surprise. Your lips are slightly swollen, and your gaze is soft, twinkling in the renewed moonlight. You look so sumptuous in these small strips of fabric that dare to be called clothes.

You coo, “What is it, Katsuki?” You thumb the crease in his brow as you lean back down, your lips caressing his. “What’s got you all worked up?” You say far too innocently.

He huffs, “You do.” And now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

You exhale, “Well, obviously.” Your gaze flickers to his lips for a moment before you continue, “It’s something else, though, isn’t it?” You kiss him once more, hoping that’ll soothe his nerves. But it seems to have the opposite effect. He grumbles into your mouth, “Fuckin’ pervert. Comin’ into my room, pinnin’ me down like this—”

You chomp on his bottom lip, making him yelp. He curses, “Like a fuckin’ piranha you are!” You chuckle, sitting back on his hips. Your mouth makes the cutest ‘O’ shape as you feel his bulge poking into your ass. You rock slightly on it, and Katsuki groans in response.

Your hands splay on his strong chest as you slowly grind your core against his hard-on through his trunks. You moan as his clothed tip brushes against your bare clit. You remark, “Already leaking for me, huh?”

He grunts, “Shut up.” You can see his flush and the red tips of his ears. It looks good on him. Really good.

You smirk, “You like that, baby?” You press down harder on him, earning you a delicious moan.

He chokes out, “G-get fucked!” Bakugou Katsuki, stuttering? In the past six months you’ve been watching him, he’s never stuttered. Not once. Not as he stubbed his toe. Not as he stitched his own wounds together because he’s stubborn shit who refuses to go to the hospital. Not even as his ultimate rival (and now “friend”), Deku, announced that he would be getting married before Katsuki could find a fucking girlfriend.

You giggle as you lean forward, seductively dragging your lower lip up his chest till you kiss his jaw. All the while still grinding on him. You purr in his ear, “Believe me, I’m trying to,” as you press your soaking entrance against the growing wet patch on his underwear. A groan is torn from his chest. It’s so yummy, you savor it.

As you lift your chest from his, you catch his wild eyes. They’re frantic, and his pupils are nice and big. You chuckle, the sound ringing in his ears.

He utters, “C-can I touch you?” You stop moving, half on his body, your clit against his heavy balls. You tilt your head to the side, watching the sea of emotions churning in his eyes.

You coo, “What was that?” You angle your ear toward him as he clears his throat. He hesitates, disdain filling him up at the thought of repeating himself. Of making such a desperate request.

He mumbles, “Can I touch you? Please.” He adds that last part as an afterthought. You hum as you lower your chest back to his, your noses brushing.

You stare at him dead on as you say cockily, “Do you think you deserve it?” He’s gagged by your words. Every muscle in his jaw has ceased to work as he tries to comprehend your words.

Eventually, he stutters, “D-do I? Of course I do I-I…” You slightly suck in your cheeks and pout your lips, thoroughly unimpressed by his answer.

You say bluntly, “That’s not good enough.” You cross the empty space between your lips, whispering against his, “Beg for it.” As you pull away, you can’t help the smirk curling on your lips from his doe eyes looking up at you; those soft kissable lips parted and so damn tempting.

You chuckle as you thumb his bottom lip, “Come on, honey. You do wanna touch me, don’t you?” He licks his lips, the tip of his pink tongue brushing your finger. You lean back down, grazing your noses softly as he takes a shaky breath in and inhales your sugary, velvety musk.

He closes his eyes as he exhales, “Please, let me—”

“Like you mean it, Katsuki,” you cut him off.

He grumbles, “I do mean it, fuckin’ hell!” Neither of you speaks for a few seconds. The only sounds permeating the silence are the distant honks of cars and the shaking of train tracks. He whines, “Please just-just let me feel you.”

You shrug, “Keep going.” He tries to avert his gaze from yours but he doesn’t have many options (your tits are the most appealing one).

He sighs heatedly, “It’s driving me fuckin’ insane not bein’ able to touch you. So please fuck, just let me.”

You like how pathetic looks on him. Giggling, you cup his cheeks and give him a chaste kiss.

“Maybe next time, Suki,” you chirp. “Can I call you that? Suki?” You tease him.

He grumbles, “Whatever,” as he watches you with lidded eyes pepper his jaw and neck with kisses. You work your way down to his pecs.

He moans shamefully as you take one of his nipples into your mouth and suck on the little peak. Your mouth is so hot, a welcome contrast to the cool night air. He wishes he could thread his hands through your hair, maybe tug on it— especially tug on it as you nibble on his nipple, causing him to cry out. You can’t help but feel cocky, his sounds spurring you on.

You latch onto his other nipple now, sucking it much harsher, which makes him curse beneath his breath. Your fingers play with the hard peak you can’t pleasure with your mouth, pinching and twisting, much to Katsuki’s (denied) delight.

Once you’re satisfied, you lick a strip up from the waistband of his trunks to his sternum. The blond can’t take his eyes off yours. You look so pretty like this, staring up at him all smiley. He notices just how long your tongue is, how it narrows with its length. He feels this overwhelming urge to kiss you. To have your tongue lapping at his own. To suck on it.

Your hands grip his ribcage and squeeze gently, more so to feel his bones than anything else. His heart rate picks up once more as you kiss each rung before easing down his abs to his underwear. Your fingers slide past the waistband and wrap around it before you yank them down with both hands. His cock spills out, hard and thick, with precum spewing down his length.

You chuckle, “Look at you, baby. So needy.” Katsuki frowns at your words, but the expression quickly fades as you wrap your hands around his cock and start firmly jerking him off. You spit on his tip, priding yourself in how your saliva drips down your fingers and mixes with fresh precum. You listen to his breaths grow more shallow and watch as his cock grows even harder in your grip.

You lower yourself down, face close to his length as you stroke it. After a few more jerks, you finally suck on his tip. His taste explodes all over your tongue like popping candy. That flavour. You moan, unable to hide how fucking good he tastes. You’ve been starving yourself for far too long, anxiously awaiting the moment you would have him in your mouth. And now that he is, you’re ravenous.

Slick oozes from your hole as you take more of his length into your mouth. Your eyes gaze up at him as you bob your head, your hands still working his shaft.

Katsuki starts to think he might be in love. Maybe the pleasure is getting to his head (it is), but you’re a sight for sore eyes. He’s drunk on the hollow of your cheeks, on your captivating eyes staring up at him, and on how magical your mouth feels. He swears he’s ascended to heaven from how pleasurable your mouth feels wrapped around his cock. He grunts as you deepthroat him, praying to the Lord for one chance. For one fucking chance to buck his hips and fuck your face.

He’s losing it, his eyes fluttering closed as you gag on him. He whimpers from that, the sound triggering even more arousal to slide down your inner thighs. You pull off his cock, just stroking it as you catch your breath.

You giggle, “Do you fuck mommy’s titties, Suki? I see you staring at them.”

He groans, “Ngh-no, no I don’t, mommy.”

You raise your brow at him, a teasing “Oh?” falling from your lips. “Is that right?” You tease. He nods frantically as if the last thing he wants you to do is titty fuck him. But you know better.

Sitting back on your haunches, you smooth your hair back and pull your little bralette to the side. Your breasts fall out and bounce together, making Katsuki spill even more pre-cum.

He grunts, “Fuck please, please don’t!”

“Why not?” You say sweetly, climbing off the bed to kneel on the floor. You grab his ankles once more and pull him toward you, making him cry out. You grab his cock and stroke it a couple more times before squishing your tits together around it. The softness of your breasts unleashes an unholy growl from his lips.

He grunts, “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to!”

With a creased brow, you retort, “Speak to me like that again and I’ll edge you until you’re crying, is that clear?”

The blond goes to grumble about how you can’t tell him what to do when suddenly, you glide your tits up his length. He hisses, silenced as you slide your chest down and then back up. The movement has Katsuki’s head tipping back, his lips parted as soft groans fall past them. Your soft skin, now wet from his cock, feels unreal. He can’t hold in his little cries for much longer.

You pant, “Look at me.” His body responds before he can, cock twitching and head snapping back to look down at you.

So perfect. You look so fucking perfect like this. On your knees with his cock between your tits.

You squeeze your breasts tighter around his length and start bouncing faster, making him whine uncontrollably. Never in his life did Katsuki think a woman would turn him into a mewling mess, but here you are, doing exactly that. And as frustrating as this whole situation is, he wouldn’t have it any other way. At least, not for tonight.

He can feel himself nearing his end, his cock twitching more and more violently as the seconds pass. You’re aware of just how close he’s getting. A grin is plastered across your face as he whimpers loudly, “Fuck mommy! Fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

You purr as you press your breasts even harder into his length, “Then cum f’me, baby. All over my tits.” That’s all it takes. His cum spurts all over your chest, the hot ropes searing into your skin as he groans loud.

Katsuki’s lying on clouds, watching the birds whirl past him with a drink in hand. Bliss. Pure blinding bliss as he rides out his orgasm. But his pleasure soon turns to stinging pain as you show no intention of stopping.

He whimpers, “Please-fuck, please, mommy, I’m done.”

“Be a good boy for mommy and take it, yea?” You coo, your tits still squeezing his length up and down, milking every last drop from him. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from how overstimulated his cock is right now. He tries to tough it out and suck them back in like a man. But his body betrays him again as a few tears slip down his cheeks.

The soft lighting catches on those small streams, and you stop moving once you see them. Pulling back, you admire his work. You don’t try to wipe his cum off as you fix your bralette. You let it rest there, wearing his seed like a badge of honour.

Slowly, you stand up. You’re eye-to-eye, watching each other intently as the tension between you crackles and flares. What’s next? You wonder. You raise one of your hands to your mouth and make a show of licking his cum off your fingers. You see stars behind your eyelids as you taste it. A guttural moan tears up your throat. This is what you’ve been living for. What you’ve been craving for centuries. No one has ever tasted as good as he does.

Fuck.

Your slick has dripped down to your knees and your clit pulses with need. But you can’t fulfil those desires. Not tonight. Because for a split second there, you wanted to climb into his lap and brush his tears away and then shed some of your own. You wanted to cling to him as you tell him you’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.

But that’s not what succubi do.

In the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Katsuki stretches his hands out to where you were standing, confused and sombre. He calls for you, but he doesn’t even know your name. His voice is strangled as he yells into the darkness, ordering you to come back. Pleading for you to come back.

For the rest of the night, Katsuki questions whether that was real or not. But when he wakes up the next morning with the darkest, ugliest hickey he’s ever had, he knows that he’s been visited by a demon.