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──☆*:・ﾟcontent warning: harassment and intimidation, non-consensual touching, attempted soliciting, possessive aggressor, yandere-esque vibes, reader wears a blouse. minor/ageless/blanks dni!

wc: less than 300 words

How much to touch?

is what the note says. A torn corner of the mathematics pop quiz turned to flying projectile turned to smack dab in the middle of your test. You duck your head over it and cover the paper with a hand, so that when the teacher glares down the face of the room, scouting out potential cheaters, he doesn't give you that second glance. You scoff looking down at it. Messy blue pen ink scrawled on printer paper; fingerprints left on a particularly thick wrinkle. You scrunch it in your hand and toss it up when the teacher isn't looking.

As if he could afford you.

Assistant knew about the cigarettes a WHILE before they started having sex. reader's the only one who knows tho!

sad deku au

You don't know why you came tonight. You knew the invite was just a nicety, pity from someone who didn't want you to feel excluded, but now you're standing on a stranger's porch, listening to the party continue without you. By this point, you're used to it; proximity to Deku comes with a lot of these faux invitations, thinks meant more to impress him than include you.

But here you are, alone as groups of friends chatter along inside. It's like you're 18 again, excluded from the popular kids at prom once again. You take a long drag from your cigarette. After this, you'll go home, no goodbyes necessary.

Just as you pull your jacket closer, the reason you came pops out from the door, all smiles and kind eyes.

"I was worried you left," Deku says softly, closing the door as softly as he can behind him. He's dressed more casually than you've ever seen him, a stark contrast to the dress you had chosen for tonight. "Can I bum one off of you?"

You take another drag. "No."

He approaches you anyway, hand shoved into his pockets. His arms are tensed, triceps taut as he shivers, bulged against the cropped sleeve of his tee. It makes you think of the girl that was hanging on to them earlier and your stomach flips with an emotion you don't want to face.

"Enjoying the party?" you ask as nonchalantly as you can manage.

He leans in close enough you think the cherry will burn him, forehead practically against yours. He exhales with the weight of the world, a stark contract from the placid smile he's pinned to his cheeks.

"Not really."

You pluck the cigarette from your mouth and turn it towards him. With a gentle obedience, he takes it, lips pressed against your fingertips as he inhales. He's warm, hotter than the embers and ash that crumble between you. When he releases and you pull away, he stays there, much closer than a boss should be to his assistant.

"Go back inside, Izuku." You place a hand against his chest and tell yourself you're going to push him away. "Your girlfriend's going to be looking for you."

Izuku watches you with those, sad, sad eyes, red rimmed around the edges from lack of sleep. He'll never tell you what he's really thinking, but as his eyes flicker to your lips, you have an idea for what could be going through his mind.

"Okay," he lets his hands -which you hadn’t even realized had found your waist- drop to his sides, "You're right- Camie. My girlfriend."

You love how he says her name. Camie, Camie, Camie: like it means nothing to him. She dazzles everyone in the room and yet her boyfriend seems indifferent; you’d feel bad if it didn’t fill you with such glee.

“Hey,” Izuku says suddenly, “How do you feel about Camie?”

You start towards the stairs, heels crunching in iced over snow. “Why does it matter what I think?”

He doesn’t respond, but you feel him there, watching your back as you leave, waiting for something, anything-

At the edge of the top step, toes over the edge, you relent. “I think Camie really loves dating Deku.”

Izuku finishes the thought you were afraid of. “But not Midoriya.”

You throw the butt down and crush it beneath your heel.

“Goodnight, Izuku.”

And with that, you go home. He texts you a couple hours later, just after 2am, with two quick sentences.

-I broke up with her.

-I’m on my way.

When you speak his head pops up, verdant curls bouncing wildly and eyes almost impossibly wide. Hunched over himself in a low squat, Deku has tucked himself behind the concrete stairs of the back exit, hands cupped in front of his face to block the wind from extinguishing his cigarette. He tucks them behind his back with inhuman speed, a thin blush growing across the bridge of his nose. His lips are pursed into a strange shape, the corners pulled tight while the center is puckered.

It's almost cute how embarrassed he is to be caught, but you know better than to smile.

Both of you watch each other, waiting for the other to break. Deku doesn't even breathe. He stays there, frozen, like he thinks you won't see him if he doesn't move.

Finally, he exhales sharply through the side of his mouth, a thin stream of smoke pouring from his lips. It's slow, with the restraint and relaxation of a seasoned smoker--- and the tired eyes of one too. You've been Deku's personal assistant for years and he's always been focused and cheerful, if not saccharine, but now he seems....

"I didn't know you smoked."

"You can't tell anyone," he says softly, defeated. He pulls his hands from behind his back and stamps out the cigarette butt against the concrete .

"I won't." you say it a bit too quickly and Deku sags, as if you've confirmed his fears. Quickly, you sputter out: "But I don't think it's a big deal. We all have little bad habits and flaws, you know?"

He smiles, all teeth and squints like usual, but suddenly it feels hollow, nothing more than an overpracticed act.

"I'm the number one hero in Japan." He smashes the ashes further, grinding them further and further until the the pile is scatters across the ground. "I don't get to have little flaws."

He looks back up at you, his smile faded into something into much smaller, much sadder, and much more authentic.

"I get to have big, juicy secrets that..." Deku trails off, "I barely won Number One last year, if I have any slip ups..."

He puts his hands on his knees and stands, brushing off his hero suit with a heavy sigh. Rolling his shoulders back, he stands up straight and offers his signature plastic smile. "Forget I said that. Back to work?"

As he walks back toward the door, y realize that you've known Deku for years-

he revels in the attention you bring him, the way the men in the room can't help but stare at you. they watch in jealousy as naoya touches you however he wishes with no resistance from you. quiet and pliant, just how he likes you. you don't flinch when he shoves his fingers in your mouth or gag when he pushes your head down on his cock. naoya has trained you well and they all want their own little pet like his.

i think its a desire he would have but never act upon unless you say you want it! like he knows its kinda out there for kinks but he's fantasized about marking you like that. something so primal and raw about covering you in his cum and piss that makes his cock twitch <3

Between your legs, Toji is indistinguishable from beast. Pitch hair sweat slick and mussed to his forehead, nose tipped down low and nestled in the soft flesh above the mound of your pussy as he sucks insistently on your clit. his hand fucks into you with quick deep strokes while he's got you reclined on the bed, legs spread as far as you can get them. When your knees started to shake, he whispered little comforts into your thighs and worked with his hands. "Precious little slut you are... Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky. That's it, baby... keep clenching down on my fingers." And you were good for him then. Kept your thighs open and your lips spread. Even begged him for more. But that was four orgasms ago. He's working you up to the fifth and the repeated sensation has gotten you feeling a little wild, if you can believe it. you're gripping onto satin sheets like you're fighting for your life (and nobody could convince you otherwise), dissolved into curses and pants and moans, your fingers drawing fabric into sweaty palms as you arch your spine, twist and turn as though it'd alleviate any of the pressure. he drinks in your fervor and fucks it back into you, holding your hip still to keep you from jerking away from his attentions. it almost feels like you've gone numb to it until he's getting you to that blessed place again, where your head gets all fuzzy and your stomachs in knots; though your body doesn't feel as light as it did before—that weightlessness nirvana almost peculiarly beyond you. it doesn't feel right. not terrible—the exact opposite in fact, you feel too good, panting and clamping and sweating as Toji bears down on you, but something about the three fingers he has crooked up into you is making you feel different. suddenly too full. that primal heat in your belly, a coiled snake of jumbled nerves; agonizing pleasure nearly painful, divides and multiplies. it builds like stress, a strange yet weight right above your uterus, settling in your bladder— "Toji—I'm, y-you need to stop!—" He barely glances up. Your hands quickly reach for his head and manage to yank it up, but his fingers keep going. The heat in your face begins to sour from your embarrassment. The pressure keeps building, and he's still fucking pushing you. Goading you, moaning when you tug his hair back. His skin is hot and flushed too. Licks that scar on his lip just as he seals your fate. "Just cum doll," goes down to the third knuckle, so deep you're seeing stars. "No need to be so shy," he curls his fingers and presses firmly up. You follow his order and let go. It's exhilarating and mortifying. Toji's not expecting any of it. You moan makes him think you're squirting, though when it lasts for more than a few seconds and leaks out onto the sheets, he's staring up at you, eyes twinkling with stars of amusement. "Wooooow, my fingers that fucking good?" You groan and it cuts through the air like a sob, your palms pressed firmly into your eye sockets as you prepare to hear the story for months to come. once you've started pissing it's like you can't stop, liquid trickling down your thigh if it doesn't get soaked into the sheet. "Yeah, let it all out." You can't tell if he's making fun of you, but it kills you a little anyway. bladder emptied after a moment, you lay in a shameful silence, Toji seemingly faded into nothing as you hide yourself in the crook of your elbow. you're too embarrassed to look up, speak up, breathe even. For a moment, only deafening silence. (what you don't see: Toji's adam's apple bob as he watches you completely and utterly lose it. the most indecent he's gotten you to date, and that's definitely saying something. he's hard; but there is still very much work to be done here. he doesn't notice how he licks over his lips, bares a fang,)

Then, a curious taste. A warm wet muscle curling on the inside of your slick thigh, licking up the damp, near-sticky coating. He moans softly and your skin feels like it burns where it touches, but he's persistence given physique, single minded and diligent as he carefully cleans you up. He gets a good grip on the fat of your thigh til its poking out between his fingers, getting used to the bitter and salt of you on his tongue. You're at a loss for words when he's finished, shuddering and heaving as your body fully relaxes, melts into your sheets like butter on flapjacks. He claps a hand on your thigh and you jolt a little, move your arm off your face finally to get a good look at this demon of a man. He's still smirking at you, the bastard. "Damn baby, really know how to keep shit surprising, mm?" He reaches for his collar and takes off his shirt. You're boneless, a beached whale, on your last legs, waving your white flag. You don't even think you could get up. You're not sure if it's the horror of looking Toji in the eyes keeping you horizontal, or the tingling-near-numbness in your toes. You don't have to consider it for long though, because Toji makes up his mind before you. He scoops you up with little argument from yourself; who flops over his shoulder and lets him do all the work of getting you to the tub. I told you so, you nearly say, but your throat is sore from whining, and he beats you to the punch anyway.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀૮ • ﻌ • ა ain't nothin' but a hound dog!

cw; hybrid!characters, mentions of knotting & rut cycles. scent kink. panty/underwear things. some genital specific hcs.

Hound!Baji was easy enough to share a roof with, but as he adjusts to being the only hybrid in the house, he gets a little too big for his britches & forgoes his respect for you, not honoring the space as something you two share - but that he allows you to exist in. Now he’s stubborn to share - never mind a room; and especially not a bed.

And when he realizes you don’t have it in to argue with him, he stakes his claim on most things in the house. He's become aggressively territorial to the point you don't even have to be actively threatening his space for him to bully you.

He doesn't have a problem with mounting you to remind you who's the alpha in this house. His cock presses into you with the intention to make you submit, since you so often forget your place.

at the same time, you both speak:

"what did you say?"

"i—don't know why i said that."

his entire face flushes hot enough that you can feel your own cheeks warming in response, like he means exactly what you think he means. your heart stutters in your chest and you're suddenly too aware of how open the door to his office is, how close you are to the interns, while standing in his doorway.

you'd hardly come into his office before he'd said, very calmly, "it's bullshit how nervous you make me."

a delayed thrill runs up your spine and it frightens you, sure, but you hold onto it before it slips away. "why would i make you nervous?"

bakugou's lips smush together as he sinks lower into his seat, and even though he's shaking his head rapidly, he just can't brush off what he's admitted. his shoulders raise in an odd fashion, like he's fighting himself to do it, and before he can plant a firm hand over his mouth, he sucks in a deep breath and says,

"'cause i'm afraid to say the wrong thing and look like an idiot in front of you."

it's hard to take in the embarrassment on his red face, and you avert your eyes elsewhere, as if that will give him some kind of reprieve from whatever is happening. the words echo in your head, bouncing around relentlessly; try as you might, you can't help but laugh a little.

"are you okay?"

when bakugou speaks, he's straining so hard you can see all the tendons in his neck. "clearly not."

and—you shouldn't. you really shouldn't take advantage of him, like this, but—

"are you just saying stuff?" your lips twist up into a smile as you look back at him, batting your eyelashes in a way that has him making fists on the top of his desk. "or do you mean it?"

you expect him to burn even brighter, for the muscle in his cheeks to jump and his teeth to grind, but his shoulders relax, suddenly, and he slouches back into his seat with a sigh.

despite the difference in age (and experience), yuji itadori never doubts in his ability to please you. he's an eager lover and it's evident in the way his lips trail across your skin, leaving burning imprints that he soothes with his tongue. each moan and gasp he pulls from you is another testimony to his skill, every broken cry of his name is akin to your sweet praise. you're putty in his hands just as he is in yours.

but there's that flicker, that tiny little fire that threatens to turn into a blaze inside him, when men your age leer at your body.

yuji knows he has nothing to prove, and you tell him such when you notice him set his jaw and the smoldering in his honey eyes.

but—

"y-yuji," you gasp, the breath in your lungs stolen from you as your lover pushes your thighs as far as he can. words can barely form in your brain let alone make it out of your mouth, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise.

"you feel so fuckin' good." yuji's cock slides into you, the position allowing him to easily sheath his entire length into your wet heat. the way you squeeze around him makes him go lightheaded, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. "like you were made for me."

all you can do is claw at the sheets below you, pleasure coursing through your body making you want to writhe but his weight pinned you in place. each thrust of his hips is shallow, his swollen cockhead grinding into you and making you see stars.