emma’s writing!

Lowkey would be happy that you have the same habit of thinking aloud as him, he would zone out and notice you talking to yourself and would have the biggest grin ever. And It's a huge plus if you share his admiration for All Might, because if you do, oh boy you two would yap for houurs.

꒰ denki Kaminari ꒱ —

Peak. Fav thing you guys like to do is just yap while playing minecraft, often you would simply talk with him about anything while he plays, amazing background sound if you ask him— and not in a bad way. He just loves anything that relates to you and your yap is a plus because it makes him happy knowing you like talking to him about everything you think of.

꒰ Eijiro Kirishima ꒱ —

Lover boy LOVES your yapping, honestly you'd do or say anything and he'd be invested as if you made a huge discovery. He finds it adorable how you fumble over your words and stutter because of how fast you're talking, and despite that, he'd still look at you in interest and drop anything he's doing to listen to you.

꒰ Hanta Sero ꒱ —

He literally doesn't care about your incessant yaps, infact, he likes it more than he should. You two spend most of your free time with you leaning against the headboard of the bed and him laying on your stomach while you talk about everything that's on your mind. Would occasionally mutter "Hm hmm" and "And then what happened after mi amor ?" Just to tell you he's still listening.

꒰ Todoroki Shoto ꒱ —

Literally the listener boyfriend x yapper girlfriend trope — Your talks balances his quiet and he's glad about it. Invested in any subject you bring up—even if he's confused and keeps asking questions in between every 5th sentences. I also feel like he'd remember details of what you talked about yesterday and would ask you the next part the other day. Like, "Do you remember what you told me yesterday? Would you mind telling me more about it?" And you'd just melt because he actually cares.

꒰ Hitoshi Shinso ꒱ —

Lowkey would be happy that you have the same habit of thinking aloud as him, he would zone out and notice you talking to yourself and would have the biggest grin ever. And It's a huge plus if you share his admiration for All Might, because if you do, oh boy you two would yap for houurs.

꒰ denki Kaminari ꒱ —

Peak. Fav thing you guys like to do is just yap while playing minecraft, often you would simply talk with him about anything while he plays, amazing background sound if you ask him— and not in a bad way. He just loves anything that relates to you and your yap is a plus because it makes him happy knowing you like talking to him about everything you think of.

꒰ Eijiro Kirishima ꒱ —

Lover boy LOVES your yapping, honestly you'd do or say anything and he'd be invested as if you made a huge discovery. He finds it adorable how you fumble over your words and stutter because of how fast you're talking, and despite that, he'd still look at you in interest and drop anything he's doing to listen to you.

꒰ Hanta Sero ꒱ —

He literally doesn't care about your incessant yaps, infact, he likes it more than he should. You two spend most of your free time with you leaning against the headboard of the bed and him laying on your stomach while you talk about everything that's on your mind. Would occasionally mutter "Hm hmm" and "And then what happened after mi amor ?" Just to tell you he's still listening.

꒰ Todoroki Shoto ꒱ —

Literally the listener boyfriend x yapper girlfriend trope — Your talks balances his quiet and he's glad about it. Invested in any subject you bring up—even if he's confused and keeps asking questions in between every 5th sentences. I also feel like he'd remember details of what you talked about yesterday and would ask you the next part the other day. Like, "Do you remember what you told me yesterday? Would you mind telling me more about it?" And you'd just melt because he actually cares.

꒰ Hitoshi Shinso ꒱ —

i. midoriya

izuku’s never been one to handle teasing well, especially not when you’re in public. but you were utterly bored of the stale hero-talk going about the table in flat waves, the same two people droning on about meaningless normalcies for what felt like hours. so why not make it a little more interesting?

you smirked to yourself with the idea, almost unnoticeably, as you snaked a hand beneath the table cloth to rest over izuku’s thigh, the muscle instantly tensing beneath your sudden touch. izuku quickly turned his head to you with an inquisitive look contorting his features. you simply smiled in return, quietly whispering a small, “hi,” before leaning your shoulder against his own. 

a faint blush dusted izuku’s cheeks with the movement, eyes now locked on your face in suspicion. the other people at the table were likely too wrapped up in themselves to pay any mind to your small advances, so as long as you stayed careful, you were in the clear. silently, your hand slid to the crotch of his dress pants, barely pressing your palm against his length, just enough pressure to excite a reaction.

imperceptibly, he sucked in his breath, fingers gripping the table so hard his knuckles turned white as his eyes squeezed shut for just a second. wide, green eyes flicked to yours in a moment, eyebrows contorted in such a way as though to plead for mercy without words. but letting up now was no fun, so in response, you only pressed harder, fingers curving to grip him properly now.

a tiny, choked whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it, loud enough to catch the attention of a few of your surrounding friends, several heads turning to face him. “midoriya…you good?” one person chuckled from across the table. instantly, his entire face flushed a bright red, stuttering over his every word as he panicked to respond. 

“y-yes! i’m so sorry—just a, um, leg cramp! w-what were you saying? please continue!” he spluttered a little too loudly to be brushed off as normal, though the rest of the table seemed to ignore it just fine—just deku being deku. once the attention had finally shifted back from him, he turned back to you, utterly flustered as he whispered, “sweetheart—what are you doing?” 

“nothing!” you retorted instantly before adding, “just a little bored.” you playfully stroke him through the restraining fabric of his pants and he quickly snaps a hand to grip your thigh, fingers digging into your skin as he fights to hold his composure. “ah—you’re being mean y/n…” his voice trembles with the soft delivery of his words. “don’t expect me to play nice when we get home.”

k. bakugou

 katsuki’s sitting silently beside you with his usual grimace as the conversation flows from one meaningless topic to the next around him, every once in a while sighing or muttering some small complaint under his breath without drawing the attention of everyone else. frankly, he didn’t even want to go out to dinner tonight, and neither did you. and yet, here you were, surrounded by a pack of egotistical and honestly annoying pros yammering on about nothing as you sat bored out of your mind beside your equally frustrated husband.

glancing towards his face just once was enough to understand his frustration with how slowly the night was dragging by, so you thought, why not spice it up a bit? surely katsuki wouldn’t mind—if anything he should be grateful for your thoughtfulness. carefully, you lean your weight against katsuki's side and prop your chin upon his broad shoulder, a playful smirk spreading across your lips. he’s immediately snapping his head to face you in surprise, scowling as he mutters, “what?”

“nothing,” you gently reassure him. clicking his tongue, he turns right back to the boring conversation happening across the table, silently wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you further in despite his outward annoyance. you take that as an invitation to go further, quietly sliding your hand over his tight suit pants and stilling when you reach the crotch—not yet pressing but rather resting over the fabric.

this instantly draws another reaction from bakugou, though this time he doesn’t turn to face you. instead, he sucks in one sharp inhale and flicks his gaze down to the table in front of him, whispering, “what the fuck are you doing?” you reply only with a teasing giggle and wordlessly palm his forming erection through the thin fabric. immediately, katsuki lets out a muffled groan behind his clenched teeth, fingers digging shamelessly into your side where he holds you.

“jesus—f-fuck,” he grumbles, eyes squeezing shut. “you fucking serious?” despite how angry he seems on the outside, he never even dares to stop you, instead only tightening his grip on your waist with each of your sneaky advances. with some newfound confidence, you suddenly speed up your pace and pressure as you stroke him through his pants, katsuki’s breath hitching just barely. 

without a second to spare, katsuki whips his wallet out from his pocket and throws a wad of cash to the table, grabbing your hand in his own with surprising aggression. “somethin’ came up. we’re leavin’,” he announces sharply as he stands from the table and drags you with him, turning quickly enough that nobody can see his now obvious hardness through his pants. he quickly drags you behind him by the wrist, angrily muttering nonsense under his breath before saying, “damn tease. think you can just pull that shit on me in public?” you can tell the moment he drags you into the backseat of his car that you won’t be leaving for a long time.

s. todoroki

shoto is unnaturally good at holding his composure in high pressure situations—it’s honestly almost unnerving sometimes. but all that nonchalance and occasionally frustrating impassivity only makes it all the more fun to play with just how far you can go before that stoic facade cracks. the dinner was exceptionally banal as well. you’d heard the same five antidotes retold so times in the past hour you thought you might just pass away from boredom right then and there. you and shoto occasionally joined in on conversation, but not much outside small comments or feigned reactions.

even shoto, who just naturally looks like his head is constantly in the clouds, seems bored out of his mind with the dull back and forth. and luckily, you had just the thing to fix it. shoto wasn’t typically the affectionate type, at least not in public. the most you might get out of him was holding hands under tabletops or the occasional forehead kiss, if you were really lucky. so naturally, tonight wasn’t any different—your fingers gently intertwined beneath the sturdy table as he stared down at his bowl of soba.

carefully, as to not draw too much attention to your sneaky advances, you guided his hand further up, just until it rested upon your own thigh. he didn’t make much of it when you let go of his hand and simply squeezed your thigh once in acknowledgement. thats when you finally made your move. slowly, your hand slide from your chair to his, then rest over his thigh just as he had done to you, then finally on the crotch of his pants.

shoto inhaled sharply at the sudden sensation, stiffening just barely under your touch as he glanced up from the food that had just moments ago engulfed his attention. his head tilted as he cocked an eyebrow inquisitively like a puppy after hearing its favourite word. though he didn’t say anything, not yet at least.

you took his nondescript silence as your cue to continue further, palming his partial erection through the fabric of his pants with agonizingly slow movements. he groaned almost inaudibly with each advancement, sounds still quiet enough to hold off prying eyes and keep your friends engaged in whatever nonsense conversation they had going on. it was honestly impressive how emotionless his expression maintained outside of the occasional hard blink that looked to anyone else like a simple, nervous tic. 

he was fully hard now, breath growing shallower with your every movement despite his surprising ability to keep cool throughout the entire thing. quietly, now fully testing the waters as to how far he’d let you go, you wrapped your fingers around his length—as much as you could through the pants fabric—and harshly stroked him. but this time, he actually moved his other hand on top of your own, stopping you completely before he blew his cover in seconds. shoto shifted his gaze to meet yours, quietly whispering with utter sincerity, “i-i can’t y/n…” he leaned in to quickly place a desperate kiss over your lips before adding, voice low and dangerous, “let’s go home. please.”

e. kirishima

a few of eijirou’s pro hero friends had invited the two of you out to dinner, like some sort of triple date, and who was eijirou if not willing to go to every social event in arms reach? obviously, he agreed, despite your half-assed protests and complaints that all these guys cared about was talking about themselves for hours on end—which, by the end of the night, was proven right. you couldn't have cared less about this dumb dinner party, but since your boyfriend seemed so excited, you still went. he begged like a stray puppy when it came to getting his way, and i mean who could say no to that?

the dinner dragged on just as you thought it would, uninteresting topics and mildly annoying jokes that never seemed to end overtook the conversation within moments, leaving you utterly bored and dissatisfied with the night. even eijirou seemed a little tired of their constant complaining over usual normalities and dull hero-talk that solely revolved around their own work. at some point, the other four seemed to have forgotten about your presence at the table. normally, that might’ve stung a little, but instead it opened up an entirely different set of opportunities. without anyone paying attention, you could occupy yourself with something far more entertaining—something just a little risky

eijirou shifted in his seat for the third time that minute, sighing quietly as he toyed with the utensils sitting in front of him. you placed a hand over his thigh and squeezed just barely, innocent enough to just come off as some wordless gesture of affection. he quickly glanced upwards to meet your gaze with a smile, voicing a small, “hey,” as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him, pressing a kiss into your hair.

you settled comfortably against his warmth, hand still just resting in place on his leg, waiting for an opportunity to advance. eventually, the conversation drifted back to include him, if only a little. you took the chance while he was a slightly distracted and slid your hand further down, now pressing a palm softly against his already half-hard length. eijirou drew in a sharp inhale, bordering on a whimper, and accidentally collected the partial attention of a couple of your surrounding friends. he covered it quickly with a cough, but turned to you the instant their attentions flipped. “t-thats not fair, baby,” he chuckles softly before continuing, “y’gonna play dirty with me tonight?”

“what? i’m not doin’ anything,” you retort sarcastically with a playful smirk. eijirou gave a small, knowing chuckle at that and pressed you closer to him, fingertips digging just barely into your waist. you took it as a sign to take things just a little further and gripped down harder on the crotch of his pants, effectively stroking him through the fabric. he tried his hardest to remain calm and collected as you teased him endlessly, covering each groan that passed him lips with small, feigned laughs. but it eventually became a little too much, even for the oh so strong red riot.

you slid a hand to grab onto the nape of his neck and tilted his head to your level, littering small kisses along his jaw and just below his ear as you whispered sweet nothings to fluster him just a little more. your hand sped up its pace on his hardness until eventually, he cracked. an embarrassingly loud moan escaped his mouth as his hand shot to yours, stopping your motions completely. the entire table looked to him in surprise and he panicked completely, forcing an awkward laugh before stuttering, “i-i gotta go to the bathroom real quick—s-so sorry!” that was the fastest you think you’ve ever seen him sprint in your life.

d. kaminari

denki went into this dinner party with high hopes for a fun night—he wasn’t one to let a any sort of social gathering get boring. typically, denki was actually great with turning dry conversations and flat get-togethers into something worth remembering, but tonight was a little different. the other guests at the dinner weren’t his usual choice of friends—eijirou, mina, jirou—but instead, some random, smaller pros who you could only assume just wanted to get their name out there rather than actually have a good time. 

denki tried so hard to get the conversation going, but each joke fell on seemingly deaf ears. it got to a point where you genuinely just felt sorry for him and his dumb attempts to get a laugh. when he got his thirtieth side eye and obviously faked chuckle, he decided it’d be better to just stop and let the night be boring, sinking defeatedly into his chair as he turned to you with a pout. admittedly, it was a little fun to see him fail so miserably at the talent he took most pride in, but those sad, puppy dog eyes did wonders to your resolve. you could indulge in his boredom just for a little while, you thought to yourself with a tiny smirk.

it started off small and hardly noticeable. a thumb brushing languidly across his knuckles, leaning your shoulder against his for just a moment before pulling away. things that could seem innocent without the foresight of what you truly planned. eventually, you trailed a hand to rest just over his thigh, squeezing incrementally as to wordlessly acknowledge his presence. denki gave a big dopey smile as he turned his head to face you, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face against your shoulder. “i’m so bored, babyyy,” he whispered dramatically, still quiet enough to not draw the others attention as they rambled on about boring, political talk. 

“yeah?” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into his golden hair. “poor baby.” you could just feel his smile widening at that remark, pulling you tighter into his arms. for a few minutes, you simply left it at that, tracing absentminded shapes across his back as denki melted into your touch. then, you moved. your hand sneakily slid to rest over the crotch of his dress pants, where you found he was already half-hard despite you hardly doing anything yet. you smirked to yourself with the small victory and pressed down with your palm, eliciting a tiny whimper to escape from his lips.

“a-ah, y/n, that's not fair…” denki breathed, tilting his head to look you in the eyes now; his pupils were blown impossibly wide, cheeks flushed a bright pink. he didn’t reach to stop you, if anything, he took it as a challenge to see how far he could make it before others started noticing. inhaling a shaky breath, denki sat up a little straighter, drawing one arm back to rest on the table while the other remained lazily wrapped around your waist. without another word, you began to stroke him through his slacks, pace agonizingly slow. denki’s breath hitched, a tiny whimper escaping him as he squirmed beneath your touch.

“shh, hold still denks—thought you said you were bored?” you cooed as he stifled another broken whimper and buried his face against you. miraculously, the others were so wrapped up in themselves that they paid zero mind to you and denki's antics…that was until denki finally broke. you quickened your pace quite suddenly, squeezing down hard on him while he already struggled to keep his cool. a loud moan passed his lips, eyes squeezing tightly shut before the reality of the situation dawned on him. his head whipped up to the stares surrounding him at the table, forcing an awkward laugh in hopes of saving the situation.

"moving on to the quarterly budget projections for the musutafu district." the speaker’s voice on the call filled the quiet room.

katsuki felt your warm hands slide up his bare thighs as you reached for him. he instantly stiffened in his chair, fighting to keep his focus on the zoom meeting, but he could already feel his dick hardening and straining against his boxers.

his fingers gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as you palmed him through his boxers before slowly tugging them down.

before he could even give a silent warning, you wrapped your mouth around him.

the warmth of your throat overwhelmed him immediately. a sharp hiss caught in his throat, but he managed to choke it back at the last second and mask it as a rough cough. he quickly muted his microphone before they could hear anything else.

"Is everything alright, dynamight?" the agency director asked, noticing his posture on the screen.

katsuki's jaw clenched hard as a deep heat ran up his neck. underneath the desk, you swirled your tongue right around the tip, looking up through your lashes with pure mischief. you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"fine." he managed to growl out, unmuting his mic for a split second before slamming it back on mute. his voice was way deeper and raspier than usual—thick and strained.

his professional composure was completely starting to shatter. he leaned forward and buried his face in his hand, pretending to overthink the budget charts while trying to hide his expression. his eyes fluttered shut as a quiet "fuck.." slipped past his lips.

his other hand crept down, threading his fingers through your hair to guide your movements.

you picked up the pace, bobbing your head rhythmically with your lips tight around him, sucking him in deep. he didn't give a damn about the zoom meeting anymore, he was ready to log off with a cheap excuse at any second.

"can't even wait, can you?" he groaned.part of him wanted to pull you off, to discipline you for being so reckless and impatient, but his fingers did the exact opposite—pushing himself deeper into your mouth. "fuckin' tease."

a mix of pleasure and frustration hooded his eyes as he looked down. whenever a colleague on the call asked a question, he had to forcefully lock every muscle in his body just to nod sharply, breathing in short, ragged puffs through his nose.

"gonna ruin you the second i'm off this call." his hips twitched up on instinct as he watched you intently with the silent promise burning in his eyes, knowing he was seconds away from filling your throat.

you were going to pay for this the very second he clicked leave meeting.

The ringtone screeched through the room from its resting place beside his bed as Bakugo’s head snaps up at the sound. His eyes blink around as to gain consciousness, the AC on blast brushing against his bare upper body. The call ends before he can even turn towards the phone, but starts ringing again immediately. No, this was too out of character for you.

He reaches for the phone, catching a quick glance at the clock on it displaying a crisp 3:16 a.m. “Hello?” His voice, still rough from sleep rumbles through the microphone into your phone speaker, and he can hear a sigh of relief from you. “What’s wrong?” He prompts again. You can hear the rustling of him sitting up, turning on his bedside lamp.

“Kats…” You tried to calm your voice as much as possible but it still comes out shaky, instantly putting him on high alert. “Um…” You try to continue but you feel the tears starting to build up again, the lump in your throat growing. “Could you…Could you come and get me?” You manage to get out, voice breaking as the tears start to escape.

Katsuki is moving even before you finish your sentence, “Where are you?” He asks as he puts the phone on speaker, pulling on a plain black t-shirt and jeans in record time. “Uh…” You look around you, shivering from both emotion and the cold of the night. “Just down from the convenience store near my place. I can…I can wait for you there.” The store itself was closed but they left the chairs out overnight.

“Do you want me to stay on call?” His voice is gentler than you normally hear, careful almost, caring even. You shake your head before answering a soft ‘no’, teeth clattering from the cold. “I’ll be there in 10 minutes, stay right there okay?” You hum in agreement before you hang up.

Turning into the street where he’s supposed to meet you, Katsuki’s heart is hammering out of his chest. Not only is it not like you to call him this late in the night, it’s also unlike you to cry. You were a tough woman, toughest person he ever knew, more than himself even. You were kind and a nice person but never one to show weakness, he’s only ever seen you cry once before, when he died and his subsequent hospital stay. Hearing you break down over the fall broke something in him, not a single red light was obeyed on his way to you.

He almost feels his heart physically hurt when he sees you on a chair in front of the store, flickering neon lights casting odd shadows over your face as you look up to the sky, eyes red, knees pulled up to your chest and arms hugging yourself. You barely notice his car pulling up onto the opposite side, only looking towards him when he finally get out of the car, leaning down to grab the jacket he threw in for you.

By the time he straightens up, you’re already walking towards the car, standing right on the edge of the curb as he crosses the road. Without a word, first thing Katsuki does is wrap the jacket around you, it’s the one you love, your favourite one that he’s had since UA. You blink almost sluggishly as he checks you for any external injuries, almost as tall as him due to the few extra inches of the curb.

“What happened?” The fact that you’re in your sleepwear concerns him instantly, almost like you just ran out of your own apartment in the dead of the night. He helps you slip your hands into the sleeves and watch you pull the jacket roughly around yourself. One of his hand instinctively moves to brush the hair away from your face as the other subconsciously rests on your waist, something he usually doesn’t do.

You take a moment to feel the warm seep into your bones, the jacket smelling exactly like Bakugo, bringing you some peace immediately. His hand cups your cheek, you nuzzle into it as he wipes a stray tear away with his thumb. You shake your head slightly, “I just want to go.” You mumble out barely.

“Then we’ll go.” Katsuki whispers back, stepping back to let you step off the curb, turning to walk behind you as you head towards his car, pulling the passenger side open to let you slide in comfortable. Once the door closes, he jogs to the driver’s side, putting the car in drive immediately after he gets in.

Katsuki drives around aimlessly as he lets the silence simmer, knowing you’ll tell him or talk to him if and when you want to. If all you wanted was his presence, then he’ll gladly give it to you.

“I don’t know why I ever dated that idiot.”

Ah, of course. That motherfucker.

It’s about 20 minutes before you say anything. Bakugo had derived that this was probably about that shithead boyfriend of yours. You miss the way Bakugo’s fingers tighten over the steering wheel. He doesn’t know why you dated that moron either. You’d started dating him shortly after graduating UA, some guy you had a ‘meet-cute’ with, whatever that was, at a library. Now had been on-and-off with him for years. Off, recently.

“What did he do?”

Katsuki knows he physically couldn’t have done anything to you, you were a Pro Hero ranked higher than Dynamite for goodness sake but that fucker played with your feelings like a fiddle and for some reason you keep letting him. You pull the jacket around yourself tighter, as if that’d help you pull yourself together mentally.

“I was already in a panic, woke up from a nightmare and—and i didn’t change the locks since we broke up and he still had a key—” You begin rambling, recounting the event of the night to your best friend. How your ex barged in, starting yelling at you when you were already overwhelmed, how you ran out and the only thing you could think of was to call Katsuki.

Bakugo glances at you, your eyes still following the moon outside the window. This all is partially his fault, completely actually. Of all the years and traumas at UA, there’s one thing you get nightmares about consistently, the final fight and Bakugo dying. You’re also with running around with your toxic ex because of him.

The two of you had kissed once.

It was late one night, after they finally sent him back home but still kept him on bed rest after the final battle, you’d stayed over, letting his mother go to sleep as you kept guard in case Katsuki needed help. He couldn’t fall asleep so you ended up crawling into bed with him, cuddling into him where he felt your heartbeat, felt you alive next to him.

You kept trying to make him laugh, distract him from the pain. When he finally chuckled, you smiled so brightly, like you’d just won something incredible that he couldn’t help but lean in, press his lips to yours, feel you melt into him, and him into you. He remembers falling asleep in each other’s arms, probably the most vulnerable he’s ever been.

But then he did what he always did. Destroy it.

Katsuki panicked the next day, he doesn’t even remember his thought process but he told you it meant nothing, just a heat of the moment thing, that he didn’t have any feelings for you outside of the platonic kind. He remembers the way you tried to maintain the facade of calm but he could tell you were falling apart, co trolling your facial features to not start crying right then and there.

He could’ve told you sooner. Oh, how stupid he’d been. He should’ve admitted that he lied, and that he was wrong, that he couldn’t live without you or rather that he doesn’t want to. But you put up a wall, rightfully so, held him at an arm’s length since then, jumping straight into a relationship with that guy.

Bakugo silently shifts the car into automatic, freeing up his hand to reach for yours, interlocking your fingers with his in silent comfort as your fingers tighten around his.

By the time Katsuki pulls into his driveway, you’re fast asleep next to him, drifted off with your hand in his and his jacket around you. As quietly as possible, Katsuki picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders in a princess carry.

He carries you to his bed, the one that he changed after you made one off hand comment about it being too firm for your liking. Gently placing you on the soft mattress and pulling up the covers, leaving the jacket on you because he knew you preferred it that way.

Katsuki can’t help himself as he lingers a moment, scarred hand reaching out to swipe the sweaty bakr strands sticking to your forehead. A deep sigh shakes his chest, thoughts of what could’ve been if he was braver, which is an odd thought because he couldn’t think of anyone braver than him.

“Good night, beautiful.” He whispers into the starry night sky, words falling on asleep ears.

cut me some slack if this is bad i’m trying 😭😭

Katsuki Bakugou, as you've now come to know him, lives lavishly — expensive furniture scattered around his apartment surely making for good company. The walls are surprisingly bare, save for a handful of art pieces you're sure costs more than your rent.

He doesn't stop long enough for you to inspect them, only dragging you through the apartment with his hand around your wrist.

"You live alone? Mr. Bakugou . . ?" you question, following closely behind him.

Lost in the haze of tattoos and his woodsy scented cologne, not once did the idea of him being taken cross your mind. Nor what you were meant to call him — Mr. Bakugou? Sir? 

Although judging by the grin on his face, he'd probably enjoy hearing either.

"You sure ask a lotta questions," he smirks, twisting the golden knob of the bedroom door. 

He drags you into the darkness of his room, guiding you towards the bed while he flicks on a lamp. The sheer force sends your body flying off the mattress, bouncing against the plush foam before its grounded by his body over yours.

"You askin' if I'm a cheater, sweets?" 

A thigh slots itself between your legs, the stitching of his pants piercing through the thin fabric of your panties. The feeling makes your back arch — hips moving against him as if they had a mind of their own. 

"Of course not," 

Pressing yourself harder against his leg ,your body buckles at the feeling, a hand snakes it's way to his face as you tug him towards your lips. Warm breath mixes in the minimal space between you two before he closes the distance.

Every clash of lips and tongue is messy, much unlike his composure before. The sloppy grinds against his thigh forcing your mouth to fall open. 

It only makes room for his tongue, weaving itself into the soaked confines of your mouth as he swallows every sound you make. 

"Take off my shirt," he whispers, ending his statement with a kiss against your cheek. Katsuki towers over you as he watches, ruby eyes boring into your needy form as you reach for the plastic. "A good listener too? Someone's horny."

You roll your eyes.

The buttons on his shirt come loose with little effort, his collared shirt slipping from his shoulders and pooling onto the floor. Bold ink stretches over his right arm, trailing it's way over his chest — the dark lines winding over golden skin. 

Your gaze follows the pattern from his forearm to his shoulder — until the design stops. His left side surprisingly bare in comparison.

"Did you run out of things to tattoo?" you smile, reaching out to brush your fingertips over the untouched skin.

"No."

"Then why's this one empty"

A crooked grin tugs at his lips as he fiddles with the hem of your dress, eyes flicking over you like he's already distracted, "Savin' it."

Much like him to answer so vaguely. 

Amused, he watches you, laughing as your brows crease in thought.

"I can hear you thinkin' about it." 

"I'm not."

Liar.

The blonde doesn't waste his breath arguing, actions speak louder than words, after all — like the way your hips buck when he blows softly at your clit, or how your thighs squeeze around his head when he gives the swollen nub a kiss.

He licks a long stripe on the outline of your slit, saliva coating the thin cotton of of your underwear as it sticks to your wetness. Rough hands busying themselves with your chest.

"Mr. - Sir-, please"

Hips bucking against his tongue, dragging the wet muscle over every inch of your core. His tattooed hand moves in front of you, guiding one of yours to his blonde locs. 

"Sir?" he snorts, signalling you to lift your hips as he slips off your underwear, "You're makin' me sound ancient. Just call me Katsuki, yeah?"

His tongue is on you before you can dwell on it — two hands sprawling your thighs apart, as he basks in the glow of your cunt under the dim lighting. He hikes your thighs over his shoulders, inching himself closer to the spot he knows you need him most.

His tongue darts out as if he's testing the waters, dragging it along your slit as he hums against you — his fingers rough on your waist.

You're putty under his touch, thighs clamped around his head as you moan softly into the dim room.

Too quiet for his liking.

He pulls away with your slick coating his mouth, trails of sticky release spanning from his chin to his nose as he mumbles, "Fuck are you so quiet for? You gettin' shy on me, pretty?"

You whine at that, rolling your hips against the air as his lips ghost over your cunt.

"Just feels different."

You certainly caught his attention with that.

"Different, how?" he questions, trailing two fingers from his tatted arm against your soaked entrance, "You gotta talk to me."

His body's now fully on top of yours, bare skin rubbing against your chest as his free hand cages your head. Lips giving a teasing lick to your ear as he watches your writhing form.

With a sigh, your hands cover your face — your body betraying your coyness when his fingers prod at your entrance.

He knows what he's doing — shallowly pressing two fingers inside you before he's pulling them away. Bringing his lips to your face as he commands, "Tell me how it feels."

"G-good. Feels good, Katsuki" you whine, smashing your lips on his to hide the embarrassment clearly written on your face. Your voice is honeyed with want and lust, pressing yourself closer to him as his fingers curl inside you. 

He nods knowingly, nose brushing yours lazily as his fingers move faster. "Yeah? That's a good girl"

Wet squelches bounce off every wall, the sound ringing in your head as heat fills your tummy. Your hands cradle his face as you near your high, moaning into his mouth from the speed of his fingers and the steady gaze of his eyes. 

Even as you cum, his pace doesn't falter — only pulling his fingers from your sopping cunt when you push at his arm. He licks the digits hungrily, milking the droplets of your slick for its every last inch.

Palming the bulge uncomfortably tucked in his pants, he laughs, "That wrecked just from my fingers, hm?"

That earns him another eye roll.

He makes quick work of taking off his clothes and yours, his belt clanking on against your dress thrown in the corner of the room. 

Every inch of his body is a sight to behold, muscles protruding against his honeyed-skin as he fists his cock. It was as if he was sculpted by hand, every detail crafted with the utmost care. 

He's so hot.

"Do you have a condom?" he asks, digging in his drawer. His hands raise in defence when you stare at him offended, rummaging through the drawers of his nightstand as he pulls one out.

He makes slow work of the latex — painfully slow. Thick fingers fussing with the plastic as the room washes over with silence — you have half the mind to yank it from his hands.

So you do.

The shimmery packaging tossed onto his floor. 

"That's not safe sex." he taunts, although the subtle bounce of his cock against his toned chiselled torso tells a different story. 

You ignore him, opting for focusing on the reason why you "actually" went home with this man in the first place. 

"Why wear long sleeves when you've got all…" you pause, gesturing to his arm " … these" you murmur, scooting yourself towards his spot on the bed as you lie back against the bed, watching him impatiently.

You're the one being ignored this time — tattooed hand pumping itself lazily as he coats himself in his own slick.

Just like the rest of his place, his room doesn't tell you much about him, keeping the blonde man with his scarred skin and smug-attitude an untold mystery, which only makes the tattoos scattered all the more interesting.

Trailing your gaze over every inch of his room — something you probably should've done before had this man turned out to be a serial killer.

"What's that one for?" you hum, eyes catching on the litter of small explosions inked on his arm.

He stares at you, then down at himself, a silent questioning of your timing written all over his face before he follows your gaze, "That one was a stupid mistake"

You eye him suspiciously before pointing at the linear art on his pec, "And this one?"

"Even stupider."

Surprisingly, no eye roll this time.

He's over your antics now, laughing at your defeatedness as he cages you underneath his body. Dragging his tip over the slick of your cunt as distraction. 

"Is this still okay?"

You nod softly, grabbing his shoulders to pull him towards you when you feel the gentle press of his length between your thighs. 

"Enough of that quiet shit," he groans, words cut off as he presses himself in deeper, "Be loud f'me, or else I'll stop"

His threats fall on deaf ears as you whine beneath him, hips twitching against his. The words once waiting to be spoken caught in his throat as he buries himself to the hilt, hips pressed against yours as his face falls into the crook of your neck. 

You whine against his cheek, his thick cock splitting you open in the best way possible — sweat and sex blurring your senses as you adjust to his size.

There's a soft rock of his hips, then another — each thrust a testing push that buries him deeper inside your gummy walls. He groans at every sound that slips past your lips, losing himself in your hear as he drives himself further with every slow thrust.

"Still too quiet" he grunts, finishing each word with a sharp thrust, hips fastening their pace, "Louder."

Your mouth falls into a wide 'O' at the shift in speed, skin slapping in rhythmic motions as he thrusts deep inside you. 

Low, and guttural — you moan into the empty space on the left side of his neck before giving the unmarked skin a teasing nip.

Paintings rattle against their spot on the walls as he drags your hips to meet his, a chilling reminder of just how fast he was going. 

Slipping a hand down the valley of your bodies, he toys with your clit. A whine of his name is ripping from your throat as he does so - his cock reaching lengths so deep it pummels the spongy spot inside you like he's trying to learn it. 

Each thrust is more desperate than the last as he watches you underneath him. His eyes honed in on your every reaction as you cry out blissfully. 

"Feel good?" he asks as if his voice alone doesn't force your walls to clench, squeezing around him like a vice he wouldn't dare try to escape. He smirks when you nod your head, pressing his face just a little closer, "Say it."

"F-feels good, 'Suki" 

The words come out in a breathless hush as the feeling of his cock clouds your mind, thighs shaking around his waist as you desperately try to pull him closer. He grunts in response, whispering a small 'Fuck' at the new name, his body suddenly flustered as his pace falters before they're given less than a second to recover.

Warm breath fans over your lips, his nose forcefully pushing against yours with each brutal thrust. 

Flustered, and maybe a bit shy, your eyes lock on his unmarked skin, waves of lust guiding your every move. 

Mindlessly you bite, plush skin sinking into the whites of your teeth as you gnaw and lap at the his shoulder — you're sure that'll leave a mark.

He hisses through his teeth, hips stuttering their pace as he relishes in the sting before they pick up in speed once again. 

"Yeah, mark me gorgeous. Like I'm— fuck— 'm all yours, huh?"

His. His. His.

Every inch of your body taking on a new wave of confidence as your mouth moves against the spot — licking, biting, sucking on the honeyed skin as your eyes well from pleasure.

The sounds in the room are nothing short of lewd — hips colliding, muffled moans against his shoulder, shameless grunts tumbling from his bruised lips — it's all too much for either of you to take.

His resolve snaps when you squeeze around him. Hips jolting almost painfully against you as he fucks you through your high, his not far behind. 

Symphonies of groans and whines reverberate through his apartment, his last few thrusts sloppy inside your sopping walls before he's pulling out with a wet 'pop' Your juices leak down every inch of his cock, mixing with the white globs that drip from his tip. 

He's fully on top of you now, pounds of muscle stuck to your skin through the power of sweat and pure filth.

"You still with me?"

You hum softly, grabbing at his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss. There's a softness to it, one that holds a thousand different feelings in the warm hush of your quiet afterglow.

"You should wear more short sleeve shirts" you whisper against his lips.

He chuckles, brushing away the hair that sticks to your forehead, as he smiles playfully, "Yes ma'am." 

Katsuki rolls you over with ease, your body now pressed comfortably against his chest as he holds you in his arms — the tattooed one tracing your curves lazily.

"… Kats?" you whisper, voice hoarse from its earlier exhaustion, "One more time?"

You hide your restlessness by pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, thighs spread over his as you settle on top of his chest. Your hips move slowly against his cock, the appendage still sitting painfully hard against his toned frame. 

A hearty laugh this time.

"You sure, sweets?" he asks, two thick hands making themselves comfortable on the globes of your ass, "You look pretty tired to me."

You huff, adjusting yourself to prod his weeping cock against your entrance."No, that's you." you huff, adjusting yourself to prod his weeping cock against your entrance, "Don't tap out on me, Grandpa."

Katsuki would rather die than do that, especially when the words "tap out" and "grandpa" used to describe him, are something he's more than happy to fuck right out of your head. 

. . . 

Only a few weeks later, and you're glad to call "Mr. Bakugou" your boyfriend. Spoiled in the luxury and comfort of his heart, he dotes on you in a way no man ever has.

The next time you see Katsuki, you're both clad in a lot more clothes — well, sort of. His burly frame looks almost out of place in such a small café, broad shoulders plopping into the seat across from you.

"You look good" he smiles, beckoning towards the few hickeys that have yet to fade

One more eye roll for the books.

You hum at that, swirling your drinks in the white porcelain as you bring it to your lips, hiding your smile "Short sleeves this time?" you question, swigging the drink in your mouth, "Looks good on you."

Now it was his turn to smile.

He stretches his arms under the light of the cafe, muscles tensing as he does. The tattoos now exposed in broad daylight moving across his skin as your eyes trail from his forearms to his neck—

What the fuck was that?

You reach for the collar of his shirt before you can stop yourself, tugging at the fabric to reveal the ink on the left side of his collarbone.

"Katsuki, is that my fucking name on your shoulder?"

He only stares at you blankly, an unfazed look on his face. "'Course it is." 

He smiles at your awestruck face, laughing as you thumb the skin to check if it's real.

Clearly you couldn't put the words together, and Katsuki's smirk is far too good at filling the silence.

"Your birthday. I'll put that—" he points to a spot on his forearm, thick veins pulsing under his skin "—right here." 

If it was any consolation, you still had yet to find the tattoo of your lips at the back of his neck.

© tokkushin — all rights reserved. all works belong to me .ᐟ pls do not repost/copy, or feed into ai.

a/n: i'm too easily influenced, WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT GUYS PROMISE ME!! don't fall for blonde men and their burly builds and their disgustingly hot tattoos </3 also this is fiction, i really don't think he'd ever get tattoos save for a few small ones but we ball and idgaf -> masterlist. | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋

a jolt shoots up your spine when he taps his length against your folds, once, then twice — thin lines of slick connecting you.

your hands are practically glued to your face now, heat setting in like a tidal wave when he presses against your entrance, just to pull away once more, "katsuki"

"hm? what is it?"

he guides your hands away from your face, burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck and planting chaste kisses against your cheek.

"please."

"please what?"

"katsuki, you know what."

"okay, okay," he snorts out a laugh, prying himself from the spot in your neck and smiling at the dark bruise already blossoming, "'m gonna go slow. you gotta tell me if it hurts though, alright?"

a nod normally wouldn't be accepted so easily — but when every inch of him is aching to touch you, he thinks he'll let it slide just this once.

an elbow digs into the mattress next to your head, his other hand guiding himself along your entrance — foreheads knocking together as you both peer between the valley of your bodies watching him sink inside you.

no feeling could compare to the one in this very moment. perfection in the form katsuki bakugou settling into every part of you

your neck falls against the sheets, all hopes of hiding your sounds slipping away with every new inch. 

katsuki's not so composed either, sweat-soaked forehead pressed against yours as he bottoms out with his lip between his teeth. low grumbles of your name muffled in your shoulder as he basks in the feeling — the feeling of you.

a comfortable silence fills the room, bodies heaving as he forces himself to be still inside you.

"good? f-fuck, are you good?" he murmurs, lapping at his bottom lip to clean the metallic droplets from the force of his bite, "won't move until . . . until you say i can, promise. but fuck baby, you feel s'good"

"move, katsuki"

". . . you sure? i'm not forcing you into anything if you're not ready—"

"katsuki, move now please." you groan, hips grinding down against him in search of any friction you can get. "please."

to say katsuki's amazed is an understatement. heart racing against his ribcage as you writhe beneath him despite the expression on your face — as if your body spoke more truths than your mind ever could as you cling to him in your desperate haze.

"ok," he starts, readjusting himself above you. "ok, yeah 'm gonna move."

and he does, slow and measured — dragging against every inch of you as if it's his god-given solace.

he's never felt more intoxicated. barely able to keep eye contact when you cup his face and moan against his lips. katsuki's hypntoized by it all, crimson orbs drinking in every reaction he pulls from you.

and he's always prided himself on being the steady one, a comforting balance when the grip of anxiety gets to be too much. but when you pull him closer like space is a barrier, moan softly in his ear — katsuki's not sure who's grounding who.

© — tokkushin : all rights reserved. all works belong to me .ᐟ pls do not repost/copy, or feed into ai.

a/n: hello 🤓 we all say thank you to @lilithkleia, @gyalcapone and bb @riotsgrl for tokkushin not deactivating! hooray! | comments and reblogs greatly appreciated! 💋

“four. handsome. deliciously so. body and face. rare,” bakugou laughs, boyish and booming, “thanks, babe.”

you feel uncomfortable, perspiration dribbling between your breasts, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“what is that? what are you reading?”

still bakugou ignores you and continues reading from the paper, “five. successful and ambitious. six. good friend even though he pretends he’s not. protective!! seven. so gentlemanly, holding open doors, paying for dates, very clear on why he likes me.” ruby pupils flicker over to you, “that last one is bare minimum.”

then it clicks, about seven points too late. your head snaps over to him robotically, eyes about to fall out of your head. “where the hell did you find that! stop reading it! stop katsuki!”

you hop up from your seat on your sofa, speed like no other taking over you as you run across the room to grab at the paper in bakugou’s hands. his laugh only booms louder, holding the flimsy sheet in the air over your head as you jump like a child.

“seriously, don’t read anymore!” you shout, trying to hoist yourself up his larger body, using his arms and shoulder as a climbing frame.

nothing about bakugou budges, he just continues reading with the paper in the air.

“it’s getting good, baby!” he laughs, ignoring your jumps and furrowed brows, “eight. listens to me. really listens. makes me feel heard and remembers what i say.”

he looks down at you, whose fingertips are slapping the bottom of the paper. you recognise it all too clearly now. the pink ruled lines, the edges ripped out from one of your old notebooks. your handwriting. “that’s cute. i still listen to you, don’t i?”

“you’re not now! give it back!”

“i’m almost done, two more,” bakugou says, hooking his arm behind your back to keep you locked close to him. you’re both sweaty and sticky. you’ve got no choice but to listen, “nine. cooks. such a good cook! you added five exclamation marks there. ten. fulfils some of my love languages. some?”

“now stop.” you urge. he can’t turn the paper around. he can’t.

bakugou pecks your forehead, his cheeks blushed with all the compliments. he continues skimming the list, rereading it. 

“so this is why you chose to date me, huh?” he looks down at you, pours his lips, “c'mon gimme a kiss.”

if you just grab it out his hands, he won’t see the other side. with pros always comes—

he stops pouting at you.

“give me the paper. i wrote this all a few years ago!”

“if these are the pros, where’s the cons? you must have done a cons list.” 

you shake your head, side to side. he holds the paper away from you. the opposite side, the list of all your cons, written back at you. you loop out of his arm, trying to reach for it.

he notices you staring, eyes fixated and that’s when he flips the paper around. CONS in big red capital lettering.

“this is private! you weren’t meant to see this, you shouldn’t be snooping in my room!” you squeak but bakugou’s already half down the page, pupils running across every line like he’s in a race.

“one. WILL choose his job over me—,”

“well obviously, your job is to save the world!”

“two. odd relationship with his mother? but apparently it’s better than before.”

“it’s so much better now!”

bakugou’s eyebrows drop now, voice getting lower as he continues, “three. argumentative. argues with EVERYONE. his agency workers, the media and his friends.”

“i understand why you argue with them all now! it makes sense!”

“three. his job is terrifying.”

bakugou looks over to you, solemn narrowed eyes and you don’t have a positive word to say about that.

“it is, sometimes i don’t know if you’ll come home.”

“four. he doesn’t do much else besides work. all his friends are from work.” bakugou pinches his nose bridge, “really? you think that?”

“now i don’t! and i know they’re childhood friends and… and we do things together all the time. i know you love to read, game, you’ve got your lego. i didn’t know all of that then.”

“five. don’t know if my friends and family will understand.” bakugou steps away from you, “the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you huff on the spot, “this was from when i met you! all they’ve seen of you is shouting and yelling on the television. they didn’t know how lovable you are. how well you treat me.”

bakugou looks at you, then back at the paper. scratches his head. “six. inexperienced with sex but it’s really cute. has never had a girlfriend?”

“but number one pro is that you know how to use it. obviously we’re experienced now, we know everything about each other,” you flick your finger between you and your boyfriend. 

“and the girlfriend comment? i can’t help the fact you’re my first.”

“no, i mean yes i know that. it was just a question as to why. it doesn’t mean anything to me now.”

“but it was a factor in whether you wanted to be my girlfriend,” he states.

“well, yeah,” you drawl, “i thought maybe there was a reason as to why. that’s all.”

bakugou raises his eyebrows, looks back at the sheet, “seven. doesn’t always have time for me. travels a lot for work.”

“that hasn’t changed.” bakugou grunts. it’s something he knows you struggle with while dating him. it’s even been a conversation you’ve had a few times throughout your relationship. quality time. you want to spend more time with him but he simply can’t. 

you sigh, grabbing his chin between your fingers so he looks directly at you. his eyes are half lidded, cheeks red and exhausted from the negativity and heat. “we’ve been through this. i’m still gonna stick by you, everything i love about you means more than all the things i find difficult.”

he takes your palm away from your face and squeezes it. but you can tell he’s feeling off. “the last one. eight, he’s surrounded by beautiful women all the time.”

“you’re with celebrities, pro heroes, socialites a lot,” you shrug, “that was jealousy on my part, nothing to do with you.”

“i don’t give a fuck about any of that.”

you nod sharply, “i know! i wrote this a while ago, two years even? a lot has changed.”

bakugou sighs from the pit of his stomach, then flings his head back in a huff. “fuck, baby.” he groans.

then he looks down at you, looking up at him.

“just wanna put it out there, that was private, you weren’t meant to see that, my opinions have now changed and i’m sure you had a mental pro con list for me. i just wrote mine down.”

bakugou folds the paper, “yeah, yeah, i get it. you hate my job that much, huh? it covered half of the fuckin’ cons.

“i also said i liked you were successful and ambitious.” you sit on the back of the sofa, crossing your arms. 

bakugou mirrors you standing, crossing his arms too. “but nothing about my job has changed since we’ve got together.”

you groan, leaning your head on your shoulder, “katsuki, i think you’re making problems out of nothing here.”

“you made a list of the problems with datin’ me.” he frowns, holding the folded paper between two fingers.

“and a list of the reasons why i wanted to date you. obviously the good reasons won if i’m with you now.” you glare at him with a sharp tone.

he begins to pace around the room, paper still in hand. a terrible sign. you watch as sweat trickles down his skin, body flush with heat.

“but, babe. the problems you’ve had with me from before we were dating are still problems now. i still don’t have time for you, you still are terrified every time i’m minutes late from a mission, you don’t think i’d choose you over my job and you don’t think i do anything but work.”

you moan aloud, “and i still want you despite that all. i get the world needs you, heck, i need you if i come across a villain. i don’t hate you for being a hero.”

he stops behind you, on the other side of the sofa, “i don’t want you to resent me when you realise you could have been with someone who does have more time for you, isn’t obsessed with their job, can put you first and doesn’t scare you.”

you hop off the sofa. leaning your forehead on his collarbone. “katsuki. i wouldn’t be here if i didn't want to be. i love you. i choose you everyday. i don’t want to argue with you.”

bakugou doesn’t touch you. there’s a shake to his voice, “i’m sorry i’m not better. i’m gonna try to be. just wait for me, fuck, maybe when i’m slower and the younger lot take over, they’ll need me less. it’s just now—,”

“it’s okay. you have time for me right now but you wanna argue with me," you pout up at him.

“you did put that i’m argumentative,” he looks away from you as your hands link around his neck. 

“look at me.”

shiny lava red pupils find you. you ground him, takes him out of the what ifs and the failures of his past and places him in the present with you. 

“i have dated bakugou katsuki for two years and i love him so much. i love how kind and generous he is, always putting his loved ones first. how he dedicates his life and body to saving the world. how even if he’s tired from a long week of working, he still comes over to cook me a three course meal because he wants to see me eat his food. who was so open and willing to change for me. to change his routines and learn my body. who is argumentative because he wants to make things right. who wanted so hard for my family and friends to love him and manages to see his mother once a week just to check up on her.”

you search in both his eyes and he’s listening, he always is.

“i can write an updated list for you, if you want.”

he shakes his head, stuffs his forehead into your neck and slowly pushes you down into the sofa. you laugh, his hands plastered into your waist as his body crushes you in the plush cushions ever so slightly.

“‘m sorry. i shouldn’t have read it. even though i enjoyed the pros.” he muffles, lips tickling your skin.

you tap his shoulder. “you shouldn’t have but it’s okay. i still need you to get my fan. it’s hot.”

“promise you’ll tell me if you want somethin’ to change between us. i’m not wakin’ up one day to you leavin’ me for a reason right under my nose.” he urges and you can see him pleading. the desperation for you to agree.

“promise. now you promise me.”

“course i promise. i couldn’t even fill out ten reasons as to why i hate you.”

“i didn't say i hate you. and sure you can. you hate my cold feet. you hate how i moan about my job. you hate how i hate your job. you hate how i always want a massage. you hate how i wait until the last minute when you’re tucked up in bed for you to get me a glass of water. you hate how i’m indecisive for what i want for my birthdays and—,”

bakugou sits up, “i don't hate any of that shit. love listenin’ to you and half that shit is cute as hell.”

you pout, “you hate when i wear low cut tops out—,”

he frowns, “that’s foreplay, baby. you let me suck your tits after to make me happy. couldn’t give a shit what you wear.”

“how about how protective my friends are? and the fact i tell them everything?”

bakugou shrugs, “you deserve friends that love you that much and that you can tell everythin’.”

“i get snappy when i’m running late or too much is going on or i’m hot.”

with that bakugou gets up. your fan. though not without hovering over you to give you a peck. then another. you press your soft lips against his though you don’t open up because then you will get even hotter and snappy.

he pulls off you and rises from the sofa, “that makes sense, baby. you’re stressed and uncomfortable.”

you roll your eyes, “stop being so understanding!”

he walks towards your bedroom, but not without turning around to look at you. his fingers grip the door frame, “i love you.”

the gates of ua are much taller than you remember. 

you stand frozen, gaping at the sprawling campus before you with heart hammering in your chest. your throat feels dry. 

you nervously smooth your outfit one last time, lip tucked between your teeth.

the first day is always the hardest. you will be fine; it marches through your mind like a mantra, pushing your feet forward as you take a deep breath, venturing further inside.

there aren’t any students here yet, it being a faculty work day. today is of the last before school officially starts.   and it’s your first official day, besides the very brief walkthrough last week.  when you’d asked about lesson plans, principal yagi had laughed and waved his hand. “come and meet everyone first, then you can worry about smaller details. besides, we prefer to have the teachers discuss lessons together at the beginning of the year. it’s good to be united and work together!” it’s an exciting thought, collaborating with so many amazing educators. still, daunting. 

your fingers tap against the handle of your bag as you awkwardly navigate the vaguely familiar hallways, mentally preparing yourself for the day to come. it’s impossible to ignore the way your heart jumps in your chest, and you heave a small sigh. 

it does little to ease the tension you feel. 

before throwing you to the fray, principal yagi wanted to give you a personal tour of the grounds. something about an opportunity to ask any final questions and gain some more familiarity with the campus. “plus, it doesn’t hurt to be seen with the former symbol of peace,” he’d joked over the phone when he’d asked if you would come early today. you smile at the thought; working under the former no. 1 is one of the main reasons you chose to accept this job, and he seems like he’ll be a wonderful boss and mentor. 

it’ll be good to start your first day with just him; despite his fame and stature, all might is a pretty easy guy to be around. 

when you find yourself turning the corner to his office, however, his is not the face you see. 

there’s no way to explain it. no logic, really, behind the way your body seems to react before your brain has time to catch up. when you take in a breath it almost feels like slow motion.

he’s tall. it’s hard to tell if it’s objectively true or just the way he carries himself, but still, tall is your first thought. 

then, good looking. you blink, eyes flitting over him briefly. they register the suit he’s wearing, the scarred hand gripping the strap of a yellow backpack, green tie snug around his neck, cheeky freckles, mussed green hair... 

wait, what? 

very few people fit such a specific description. the fluttery beat of your heart leers forward into a thundering stomp. 

your gaze trails higher, over his neutral, if not for slightly parted lips, expression; over the identifying facial scar; up to—yes, verdant eyes, staring back at you. 

you recognize him. of course you recognize him. anxiety and anticipation and admiration all twist into one confusing jumble of emotions.

the other reason you chose to teach at ua when you were considering your options. even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself, you can feel your high school crush on the greatest hero simmering beneath the surface of your skin. a blush creeps onto your cheeks; he’s even cuter in person than he is on a screen. 

and he’s real and in person now, standing bashful before you. your brain feels a bit foggy and it takes you a second to notice those pouty lips of his are forming words. 

“—is your name, right?” 

the realization that he’s asking you shakes you out of your stupor. 

“yes!” you squeak, then clear your throat. “yes, it’s my first day. i’m looking for—“ “—probably looking for all might. oh, sor—“ “—sorry! i didn’t mean—“ “—for interrupting!”  both of your words tumble out in rapid succession, overlapping. he pauses, cracks a tiny smile, which breaks into a grin when your blush from before spreads to your whole face. 

“you’re deku,” the name slips out without meaning to, and you mentally kick yourself for looking like a fan and not a serious coworker. “i mean—m-midoriya, right? i’ve, uhm, heard of you.” stupid. 

you feel so awkward, and you’re already rewriting this conversation in your head when he laughs. it might be the nicest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“yes,” he breathes, jovial. “i’ve heard of you, too.” 

that really catches your attention.

confusion must cross your face because he’s rushing to clarify, “just, y’know, that we had another young teacher joining us in the hero course!”  you say nothing and he seems to take it as an invitation to keep going. “i might’ve read some of your recommendation letters… everyone speaks really highly of you. i really admire the volunteer work you do, and your quirk counseling out reach program, and all might thinks you’re going to be a good fit here and i can’t help but agree—"

the words pour out like he can’t stop them, until he does, clamping his gnarled hand over his mouth. 

it’s kind of… endearing. cute. 

you’ve spent so long fretting about your introduction and overthinking every little thing, but it’s actually nice. 

he’s so nice. 

quite an easy guy to be around, too; must get it from all might. maybe they just rub off on each other. 

izuku’s words are like a drive by compliment; disappearing around the corner as soon as they arrive, leaving you reeling. 

the way he praises you so readily is nice, too.  the way it twinges something in your chest makes you think you like it a little too much. 

“well… thanks.” well don’t sound so excited about it!  “er—thank you, that’s really really nice of you to say!” okay, pull it back now.  “i’m just… really looking forward to working with you,” those vibrant eyes widen slightly and you hastily add, “and… everyone at ua! it’s really exciting to be here!” 

he looks slightly lost for words as he drinks you in, drinks up your voice and your mannerisms and your scent. it’s like he’s trying to memorize you. 

the intensity of his stare makes you nervous, and you shift slightly, peeking behind him into yagi’s office. 

“so is princip—er—is all might back there? he asked me to meet him.” 

izuku is still staring. he narrows his eyes slightly, before glancing back at the office. 

“no, that’s kind of why i’m here. he had to check on something with the entrance exams and caught me on my way in.” he beams at you and scratches the back of his neck. “i guess i’m your guide today. i’m excited to show you around!”

٠࣪⭑

after that first day, friendship with izuku midoriya feels easy. 

he’s just been… around. he holds open the door when you arrive in the morning, brings you coffee at lunch when you mention you’re feeling tired during the morning meeting. he listens when you talk, notices when you’re gone. he’s always so kind, so encouraging; it’s like having your own personal cheerleader. 

sometimes, you feel a little crowded. being observed so acutely means being constantly perceived, and he makes it impossible to blend into the background. 

٠࣪⭑

it’s been a few months. they passed in a blur; sometimes it feels like no time has passed at all. 

you still gnaw at your lip instead of speaking up in meetings, still practice deference to the others. 

except for izuku, and maybe yagi, you feel alone here, a little out of your depth. 

feeling belonging comes rarely; you’ve hardly felt… seen, not since that first day. 

often, you catch yourself searching for him in the halls. every moment of connection, every time he looks at you, sends electricity arcing over your skin.

right now, you’re paired with izuku for a joint lesson. your goal is to pair each student up with one from the other class, aiming to teach the students about collaboration with unknown colleagues and adapting to new situations. 

watching him teach is… well, it’s complicated. 

it’s inspiring, for one; to watch someone so passionate and thoughtful. he’s so focused, so engaged, it makes you want to do your best too.  it’s also intimidating.

he seems to have special way of connecting to the students, anticipating questions before they’re even asked. 

it eats you alive, the feeling of inferiority. has you chewing the inside of your cheeks until you taste copper. 

you’re both stood before the two classes. izuku is finishing his lecture, addressing his notes occasionally to catch any missed points.  he turns to you, head tilted, and you flush, turning to address the kids. 

“don’t forget the goal of this exercise is communication. you need to learn how to adapt to new teammates quickly; you never know who you’ll be working with in the field!” “that’s right!” he emphasizes, nodding along, “alright guys, let’s split up. make your plans, first teams start in ten minutes.” 

as the students break off to work on the assignment, he glances at you. 

“so... uh, how have the first few months here treated you?” 

it’s an innocent enough question, but the answer feels heavy on your tongue. 

“honestly…” the way he’s gazing at you so gently makes it easier to admit. “honestly, it’s been a hard adjustment. i feel like i’m out of my league.” 

he smiles, perplexed. 

“that’s surprising. you’re such a natural.” 

izuku sure is liberal with compliments. 

you slap his shoulder playfully. “stop it, i’m barely managing.”  “noooo—“ he shakes his head vigorously in disagreement. “i promise—you make teaching look so easy!” 

he makes you feel shy. “yeah, alright,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact. 

the praise is almost gratuitous. 

eraserhead never fails to point out ways you’ve failed; all might is always pointing out ways you could improve; you can’t help but wonder if deku is laying it on a little thick, like he doesn’t think you can handle the truth. 

٠࣪⭑

another month passes, and your imposter syndrome reaches a fever pitch. 

there’s one student in your class who is struggling. 

she’s really struggling. her quirk development progress is significantly behind the other students, and it seems like everything you try only makes it worse. every encouragement falls on deaf ears; every bit of feedback lands as criticism. 

it’s early afternoon, and you’re in your classroom at your desk, pinching your brow as you look over your notes from the day’s training. 

there’s a soft knock at the door, and you glance up. 

izuku stands in the frame, looking like he’s trying to take up as little space as possible while doing quite the opposite. two steaming paper cups are clutched in his hands. he looks… nervous.

“hey, uhh… need a pick me up? i accidentally made two.”

“midoriya,” you groan. “you’re a lifesaver.” 

the blush on his face is unmistakable.

he walks inside the room and sets a coffee down on your desk, then slumps into the chair across from you. 

“oh my god, thank you,” you breathe as you glance up and curl your fingers around the cup. the steam wafts towards your face. “you’re welcome,” he manages sheepishly. “so... what’s going on? you look kinda tense.” 

why does he always seem to be aware of how you’re feeling? the tension in your shoulders doesn’t even fully register to you until he addresses it. 

you take a gulp of coffee, wince at the bitter taste. 

leaning forward in his chair, he reaches like he means to take the cup from you before letting his arm fall, pretending to fiddle with a pen on your desk. “sorry, is it bad?”  it kind of is, but that doesn’t matter; you never told him how you like your coffee, with at least a little cream and maybe some sugar, too. 

“i like cream,” you say, but take another sip anyway. it burns your throat, but it also tastes like kindness, so you keep drinking.  “anyway,” you add, “yeah, i’m having some trouble with a student.” 

as you fill him in he takes out a little notebook from his pocket and jots a few things down. 

“you always take notes like that?” you finally ask after the third time he makes another note. “yeah, i guess so,” he says, slightly embarrassed. “i just wanted to make sure i got everything down so i can think about it and get back to you.”  you wave him off. “no, no, its okay. don’t worry about it. really, i was just curious if you’ve dealt with something similar.” “i haven’t,” he admits. of course he hasn’t. “but… let me think about it, okay?”

you nod, and he nods too, satisfied, before standing and walking to the door. 

“thanks again for the coffee!” you blurt, but he’s already down the hall.

you take a sip and snort. 

who accidentally makes two?

٠࣪⭑

later that week, you experience a truly wretched day. 

rain is pouring down thick and steady. without an umbrella, by the time you reach school you’re soaked to the bone. 

maybe if he was the first to point it out, you would have laughed, like you do when the front desk admin jokes about your soggy state as you hurry down the hallway towards your class. 

“i didn’t know you swam to work!” she calls after you, and you laugh and shake your head.  “yeah, it’s faster!” you toss back, trying not to wince as your shoes make loud squelch sounds as you half walk, half run.  class starts in 10, barely enough time to make yourself presentable.

maybe even if he was the second to say it, like yamada, who spots you as you speed walk past the teachers lounge.

“wooahhhhhh!” he shouts after you, “somebody call the custodian, we’ve got a cleanup on aisle 6! the storm found a way inside and it’s spreading water all over the place!”

you bite the inside of your cheek and turn back to grin sheepishly, stuttering “i-i was running late, okay?” 

when you turn again to flee, you run smack into something... broad. blinking, you feel two hands come up to steady you by gripping your arms, hear their owner ask, “sorry! you okay?” 

there’s just enough time register a green tie and feel your face erupt into an embarrassed flush; you really don’t want midoriya to see you in such a disheveled state. his eyes flit over you with a look of concern, which turns into a cheeky smile once they settle on your face.

so when he says, “y’know, when the weather’s like this, it’s perfectly okay to hold class inside,” you don’t have it in you to joke anymore. 

feeling embarrassed, cold and dripping with rainwater, agitated by your own tardiness, you snap,  “yeah, well, i forgot my umbrella,” shrugging out of his grip. 

“wait, i was just kidding—"

“‘scuse me, i’m late,” you mutter, brushing by him and sprinting to your classroom. 

he stands there, watching you go with a scrupulous expression. 

the rest of the morning goes pretty much the same; aizawa drops by to chastise you for your late and unprofessional entrance, yagi sends you an email letting you know that there’s a problem with the last three progress reports you’ve submitted and they need to be redone, and your students seem hell bent on derailing class in any and every way possible. 

by the time lunch rolls around, you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. 

you manage slip into the teacher’s lounge relatively unnoticed, making a beeline to the fridge and retrieving your food before slinking back towards the door. 

unfortunately, you don’t notice the stray cord in your path, tunnel vision focused on the doorway, on freedom. you don’t notice until it’s too late, and the cord has wrapped its way around your ankle and rooted you in place. you don’t notice, because your still moving forward, until suddenly you aren’t, instead careening towards the ground. 

it feels like slow motion, the bento falling from your grip and colliding with the ground in a truly spectacular display; the lid pops off, and food splatters everywhere. you stay there on the ground for a second, blinking slowly like you’re in a trance, before scrambling to your feet and clutching the now empty box to your chest. shit. shitshitshit.

your face is on fire as your eyes dart around the room rapidly; with luck, everyone seems to be wrapped up in something else, whether that be work or food or, in aizawa’s case, a sleeping bag. 

none seem to notice your predicament, and you think you’ve just gotten away with it, when you look down. 

izuku is somehow already on his knees, rag in hand, sweeping up the spoiled food with careful motions. he must have just walked in. you frantically grab a handful of napkins from the counter and drop beside him, an apology already on the tip of your tongue. 

“i’m so sorry, did any get on you? you don’t have to help me with this—" his hand brushes against yours and he smiles at you. 

“i’m completely fine, i just saw you go down! looked like you needed a little help there.”

you know, deep down, that he has to mean it just how he says it; ever the observant hero, he saw a problem to fix and acted without thinking. he wanted to help. 

the thing is, it’s exactly what you don’t want to hear right now. all the little frustrations, all the little upsets from your day weigh down on your shoulders and now the person you admire most at this stupid school saw you eat shit in the middle of the teacher’s lounge and he has the audacity to help you, to draw attention to your misstep.

you can feel the eyes around you shift over now, hearing your conversation. somewhere behind you, someone snickers. 

stupid, childish embarrassment floods you; your ears are steaming and you can’t hear what izuku is saying until the words “—could buy you something else?”

“no!” your retort is quick and it comes out a little harsher than you mean it to. he shrinks slightly, taken aback. “i mean, sorry, no, thank you. i couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

the only thought on your mind is retreat; you need to get out of this situation as fast as possible, get away to lick your wounds and wallow in your shame.

again, you know somewhere in your subconscious that he’s just being sweet and earnest deku when he says, “no, it’s nothing! i really don’t mind, it’s important for you to get enough nutrients, especially on a work day, and i know this great little place, i can just pop right there and back—"

“i have to go,” you choke out, standing quickly to throw the pile of napkins and food away. 

“no, wait—!” he says, but you’ve already spun on your heel and darted from the lounge back to your classroom, cheeks burning. 

why did he have to keep pushing like that? couldn’t he tell that the most helpful thing to do in that moment would be to pretend he didn’t see anything? why did he have to make everyone look with his dumb loud voice, offering to buy you lunch?

god, does he think you can’t afford another lunch? 

who does this guy think he is?

it’s impossible to stop your thoughts from spiraling. maybe this whole times he’s just been humoring you, playing the part of good hero and extending a hand to the floundering newbie. 

maybe all those lingering glances he throws your way indicate something sinister; maybe he’s just waiting for you to mess up badly enough that he can swoop in and save the day. 

you’ve seen how the hero types can be; arrogant, self serving, unconcerned. maybe he’s really like that, too. 

the thing is, you never really ask for help — always been independent, figuring things out for yourself. you know how to self start, don’t need someone to help you.

so why is he always… just… there, waiting to give it to you? 

offering his services up on a silver platter when you wish he would just give you a second, to catch up and breathe. 

he seems to have a knack for seeing you in your worst moments, the dutiful witness to your failures. you bet if you sneeze on yourself he’ll be waiting to dab it right up with a tissue and a lolly for your bravery.

it’s not just his looming reputation and happy-go-lucky attitude; it’s him. his… his presence.

it doesn’t help that he looks like that, all freckles and curls and charming smiles, tall and strong (from what you can tell… you’re not blind to the muscles straining against his sleeves when he rolls them up). 

you just do your best not to think about it — the hot, sticky feeling that floods your core whenever he lingers in your mind for too long.

if he could just be less attractive to you, you’d write off your feelings of inadequacy and put him out of your mind! 

unfortunately, your heart seems committed to striking up a fierce rhythm when he’s around. it makes it hard to think straight, makes you hyper aware of everything you say and do.

no matter what, you can’t shake the feeling of those piercing eyes when they’re on you; seeing you. 

seeing through you. 

izuku is really starting to irk you, to get under your skin. he makes you feel dissected and vulnerable.

you can’t help it, when it makes you a little crazy. a little unsettled. even as you push it down, the thought makes enough of an impression.

٠࣪⭑

that friday is the first day of the infamous ua sport’s festival.

it’s been a whirlwind, preparing for the event. you haven’t had many more opportunities to embarrass yourself, instead drowning yourself in work. 

you don’t see izuku much either.

it’s a good day for the fesitval, the air clear and clean, sun shining instead of beating. you’re in the stands that survey the vast arena, stood beside your class as they squirm excitedly in their seats. it’s not their turn, so you all have an hour or two to watch the other students battle it out for first place. 

a few rows below you, you spot him. it’s impossible to miss the mop of green curls, standing out above the crowds of kids watching in the student section. 

turning to your class, you try and adopt a stern expression. “seriously, please don’t run off or do anything crazy. save your manic energy for the field, alright? i’ll be right back.”

they all offer you vague assurances, which somehow aren’t very comforting to you. still, you walk to the stairs, taking them two at a time to catch up.

deku and all might are walking briskly, seemingly buried in conversation. 

for just a second, izuku glances up like he senses something, then sees you on the stairs above and waves, offering a quick smile before turning back to yagi. 

you hesitate, not wanting to disrupt them. you just want to thank izuku for his kindness earlier in the week, after working through your embarrassment on your own time; you’ve half a mind to offer to buy him lunch in gratitude, although the courage required for that might be too much to muster right now.

as they turn to walk up some stairs a section away, you gasp when you see the little notebook clutched in izuku’s hand. it’s the same one as earlier in the week, the one he used to document your conversation, and he’s gesturing to that very page, shaking his head with an incredulous expression on his face. yagi says something and izuku laughs, rubbing his forehead. 

are…. are they talking about you? based on body language, it seems like they’re joking about something, and when izuku gestures over in your general direction, your heart sinks through the floor. 

are they making fun of you? 

it’s hard to believe, but the evidence is right there. yagi points to something in the notebook and rolls his eyes, and izuku shrugs his shoulders and spreads his hands like, who knows?

they’re definitely making fun of you, probably laughing at the way you have no idea what you’re doing and need to ask for help from someone who’s only been teaching slightly longer than you. hot embarrassment blooms in your chest, before souring, turning to anger. 

that stupid deku. how can he have the audacity to be so nice and understanding to your face, then turn around and mock you behind your back? 

the rest of the day you’re stewing in resentment, raging war against deku in your mind. apparently he wasn’t really your friend at all, and all those compliments and encouragements were actually underhanded, probably meant to undermine you.

so, maybe you deflect. a little! so what? it’s hard to sit with your disappointment, and you want him to feel just as bad as you do right now.

if he wants to play a stupid little game with you, you’re more than happy to oblige. in fact, it will probably feel great to watch perfect deku get slipped up and reveal his true feelings of disdain. if you can get him to admit he’s been making fun of you the whole time, you’ll have him right where you want him.

you know that deep down, he has to be a real person, like you. not some white knight perched on a pedestal, reaching out a hand when you’re perfectly capable of getting up by yourself. 

you just need to break him down, until you see it— the real him. the izuku that he hides away inside. 

no one is that friendly all the time. no one is that earnest. there has to be something there, under the surface. you just want to see the mask slip, just once. 

this desire drives you to, admittedly, rash action; but there’s no other choice. 

٠࣪⭑

you start small, just to see how he reacts. 

the following monday morning is bright and chipper. 

you’re strolling down the hallway towards the conference room where the staff meeting takes place when you see him at the end, standing right by the door. perfect. 

as you suspect, he sees you right away; brightens and smiles at you. you bitterly swallow the wave of annoyance that washes over you, sure, now we’re all buddy-buddy, and steel yourself. 

as you grow closer, he raises a hand in greeting. 

“good morning—“

you cut him off by breezing right past him, neglecting to spare him even a glance as you drop into an empty seat. it’s out of necessity; you worry if he looks in your eyes he’ll be able to read your thoughts.

his address dies in his throat, strangled, and you can feel his eyes on you, analyzing.  trying to figure out, why. 

the next morning, he still tries to open the door for you, a hopeful yet nervous smile adorning his face. 

and the second morning, you ignore him again. but he doesn’t say anything.

that week, you ignore him through every single meeting. 

the next week, he stops trying to greet you on your way in. clearly that’s not going to work. instead, he plays it differently; waits inside, holding the last available chair. 

for you, presumably. 

that's when you opt to stand instead, giving a pointed look of disgust at the empty seat before shifting focus back to all might, who's standing at the front of the room to address the staff

because you’re so stubborn, still refusing to acknowledge him, you miss the way his expression crumples. he looks crestfallen.

٠࣪⭑

as days tick by, you decide it’s time to up the ante. 

start poking fun at him, jeering his choice of breakfast or making fun of his backpack. 

“i’ve always used a backpack,” he grumbles one day, after a barrage of comments about how stupid and juvenile it makes him look. “it’s an efficient way to carry my stuff.” 

you’ve been playing your little game almost a month now.

“‘efficient way to carry my stuff’,” you mock, rolling your eyes. “do you always have to talk like such a nerd? it’s kinda grating.”

his eye twitches, and he slowly and carefully shuts the notebook he’s writing in. 

it’s just the two of you in the teacher’s lounge. the school day ended an hour ago, but you’re both still grading yet another joint assignment. yagi seems hell bent on forcing you two to work together, and it’s starting to piss you off. 

why the former symbol of peace thinks it’s so important to have your classes work together is a mystery. 

it’s been non stop lately, at least one or two days out of the week set aside for collaborative training. he keeps insisting that as the two newbies, you can help eachother out! you’re his dream team!

it makes your blood boil. at this point he has to be doing it on purpose, forcing you to work with midoriya, but to what end, you have no idea.

izuku sets the notebook aside and folds his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers, before he looks up at you. 

“did i do something to upset you?” he asks, voice measured to disguise his hurt feelings. 

your stomach sinks; maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you were hoping for. you wanted him to break, not bring it up to you. 

somehow, his mature response to your childish jabs only pushes you further down your path, and you try not to squirm in your seat. 

now he wants to take the high road? typical. 

your attempt at an airy and unconcerned tone is mid at best when you snap, “no. you’re fine.” you pause, think for a second, then add, “honestly, i guess you upset me a little. just, in general.” 

his eyes widen and he grips his hands harder, knuckles turning white. “what is that supposed to mean?” 

there’s something in his tone that stops you, and you study his face carefully. 

he seems hurt, a little frustrated… actually, he seems very frustrated. his expression is suspiciously hard to read, like he’s trying to remain guarded.

“just that sometimes i get a really sketchy vibe from you,” you spit, unsure where you’re pulling this vitriol from. “like… i don’t get you. you don’t make sense to me. and i feel like you’re putting on this nice guy act but i don’t buy it. and like..."

the longer he sits there, just letting you ramble, the more uncomfortable you get, faltering when you realize you’re not quite sure what to say next. “i don’t know,” you finish weakly. “you’re just annoying, sorry.”

far from goading him, now your words seem to be… almost too harmless, like he’s barely even listening anymore. the way his expression has shifted is unnerving; it’s like a lightbulb clicked on in his head, and he’s fighting a smirk as he nods along to your insults. 

“well, i’m sorry you feel that way,” he says graciously, grabbing his notebook again and flipping it open to a new page. you try not to peer at what he writes, but he seems to sense your curiosity and causally moves an arm to block your view. “i guess i’ll just have to work harder to win you over!” he exclaims, cheerfully snapping the book shut with finality and moving to gather his things to go. 

you scoff, redirect your attention back to your work in front of you like continuing this conversation is beneath you. 

however, you feel his eyes on you as he leaves the room; once his back is turned, yours bore holes into the back of his head. 

٠࣪⭑

the two of you strike a strange, tense balancing act; you taunt, he pretends to be completely oblivious. 

out of everything, you think this is the worst. it’s like he’s playing with you, like he knows something you don’t and loves to hold it over your head. 

any normal person would have a stronger reaction to your bullying. actually, any normal person would have any reaction. 

it’s like the more buttons you push, the more izuku doubles down, refusing to give in to you. 

٠࣪⭑

today, you’re sat in front of the huge screen that displays the ground gamma camera feeds, groaning as your problem student has her ass handed to her by midoriya’s top student. 

she’s made some progress since you spoke to him about the situation (which he never ended up getting back to you about), but still; her confidence is shaky, and she’s too afraid to make the tough calls that would ultimately lead to her victory. she keeps getting backed into corners with no way to run, and her quirk isn’t well suited to escaping in a pinch. 

a cup of coffee is set down next to your arm and you glance at it, see the cream swirled in. 

he’s gone and remembered how you prefer it, and it stirs something within you. you wrap your hand around the cup and take a sip; it’s comforting, and you sigh with satisfaction.

“thanks,” you murmur, attention turning back to the screen. he hums in response and sits next to you. 

“hey,” he ventures, tentative. “about this student,” he gestures to the screen, “i thought about what we talked about a little while ago. i really wanted to give you good feedback, so i had to sit on it—anyway, i wrote down some thoughts that might be helpful.” izuku’s cheeks are tinted pink when he slides a crisp notebook across the control panel towards you. 

flustered, you take the notebook and flip through it, secretly admiring the neat, careful print and color coordination. 

it’s way overboard, completely unnecessary; it’s almost like he’s made you a little guidebook for potential issues a first year teacher might run into. 

completely unnecessary and yet, it truly touches you. it’s an incredibly unnecessary, thoughtful, endearing gesture.

he's awkward when he says, “i really... related to something you said, about… feeling out of your depth, when starting here, and—i guess, i wish i’d had something like this, to reference when i felt overwhelmed.” 

your heartbeat feels deafening in your ears. it’s so stupid, the way you suddenly feel like crying. blinking rapidly a few times, you close the book and set it down gingerly. 

“that’s—that’s really nice. really, that’s… i appreciate it.” you look up at him, offering a small smile. “thank you. seriously.”

the grin izuku returns to you is warm, radiant. the feeling in your chest right now is so confusing, so overwhelming, but something about it feels… so, so, good. warm, spreading throughout your limbs.

the screen beside you both flashes several times as the exercise ends, breaking the private bubble you're in.

you blink, shaking your head to clear it, and look at the results: predictable, the outcome of this battle was determined from the very beginning. 

in the corner, you catch your student glaring harshly into a camera, like she’s trying to make direct eye contact with you. “when the hell,” she spits, “am i gonna learn anything useful in this place?” before stalking off the field.

it feels like a slap in the face. she's clearly reeling from her defeat, but it feels like a defeat of your own.

you rise, tucking the notebook under your arm. “i’m going to talk to her,” you say, avoiding izuku's eyes. it’s too hard to look at him right now, and you don’t know how to feel about him anymore. 

all you know is you want run away.

and somehow, you still long to see him break, more for the commitment to the game than anything else now. 

almost on a whim, you snatch the cup of coffee before you turn and walk away, pausing in the doorway. there’s a trash can stationed there, and grip the cup in your hand before dumping it, throwing the cup in after and leaving the room without a second glance. 

٠࣪⭑

another couple of weeks pass and at this point, you’re getting a little desperate, having been baiting him for months now.

if you’re honest, you’ve lost the plot a little bit. all you want is to shove him off his course, make him stumble. you want him to give in. 

you’re tired, but that’s no reason to quit yourself.

this afternoon, you’re feeling bold, or maybe you’re just itching for a sense of satisfaction, when you traipse into his classroom towards the end of the lunch period. 

he’s hunched over his desk, tapping out a little rhythm with his fingers as he pores over a stack of assignments. it’s because of this that he doesn’t fully register you entering the room, not until you slink across his desk and slam your palm on the papers in front of him. 

he doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t look at you either; just clicks his tongue, gives a little shake of his head.

“what can i do for you today?” 

izuku sounds tired, more than usual, more than just a result of your ongoing antics. maybe he didn’t sleep well last night, or he’s behind on his grading. 

your chest swells at the opportunity and you seize it without hesitation. an opening.

“yeah, i was just hoping you could… help enlighten me. about a theory of mine.” 

you can see it, how just for a moment his shoulders relax. there’s a chance this is just a work related query, maybe a question about quirks or lesson plans or teaching styles or even all might. 

“alright, what’s your theory?” 

he reaches for his steaming mug on the desk, next to your hip.

at this point, you’re willing to say whatever it takes to get a rise out of him. “i just have this hypothesis that you’re some kind of… depraved freak. a real pervert.” 

izuku chokes on the coffee he’s sipping and it splashes down his front. he mutters a curse while scrambling for the stack of napkins he keeps stashed in his desk drawer. 

aha! it seems this one is a winner! you grin and lean closer, invading his space.

“e-excuse me?!” rosy cheeked, he can’t quite meet your hawkish stare.

“you just seem like you’re secretly a weirdo or something. i think… you’re too nice—” your voice is low, enough that no one could possibly hear what you’re saying from outside the room. “—and no one can possibly be that sweet and innocent.” no one can hear you except for him. 

he’s still wiping at his shirt when he glares at you.

“y’know, that’s really not appropriate for you to say to me.” that… mean edge to his voice…. you’ve never heard it before… 

“besides… who said I was innocent?” 

now it’s your turn to double take. 

could he finally be really, truly provoked? the thought goes straight between your thighs and you clench them together. 

there’s only one way to find out.

“yeah, but it’s not like you’re going to do anything about it,” you quip. “i can say whatever i want to you and it doesn’t matter. like how i bet you write creepy gooner hero smut in your free time. what else could those stupid notebooks be for?” it’s a low blow but you don’t care anymore.

“come on,” he scoffs, voice steely, “that’s enough.”

the bell signaling the change in the schedule sounds and you push yourself off his desk and towards the door. you can hear the clatter of footsteps clambering towards you down the hallway. 

pausing in the doorway, you smirk at him over your shoulder.

“you’re probably a stalker or something. maybe… are you a panty thief, is that it? or do you have a shrine to your waifu that you have to jerk off to every night before you can fall asleep?” 

his face is set in anger when bursts to his feet, takes a step towards you like he means to grab you—

alas, saved by the bell; it’s at this moment that the first of his students begin to trickle into the classroom.

you plaster on an innocent smile and nod to them as the greet you, waving at izuku with sickening sweetness. 

if looks could kill.

“thank you so much, mr. midoriya! i gained a lot of helpful insights from our discussion today!” you gush, hands clasped in front of you.

his jaw ticks. you can see his fingers are gripped tightly at his side, but just as fast as he clenched the fist, he relaxes it. quickly smoothes his features into a cheery grin to match yours.

“me too! we’ll have to finish up another time.” 

it’s not missed on you, the thinly veiled threat: i am not done with you. this is not over.  

you teeter back to your classroom with wobbly knees and slicked panties. 

٠࣪⭑

early that evening, yagi stops you on your way out the door. 

he jogs up when you stop and turn, grinning. “i just wanted to tell you how amazing it’s been to have you on the staff!” 

you blush and wave your hands, smile creeping onto your face. “thank you, that’s very kind.”

“it seems like everyone has really warmed up to you, especially young midoriya—" you feel your eye twitch as he keeps talking, the smile on your face turning forced, “—think it would be a great idea for you to join some of the other teachers for dinner tonight!” 

huh??? how did we get here?

“oh… er—i don’t know if i can…” you start, but he stops you.  “i see, you have other plans?” you sigh and shake your head. “no, but—“

he laughs, “then i insist! it will be great for team building!” and steers you down the street, in the direction of a restaurant you know is frequented by ua staff, although you yourself have never been.

this is how you find yourself squeezed into a too-small booth, yagi on your right and izuku on your left, sandwiched between you and the wall. aizawa, yamada, and a couple of teachers you don’t know very well sit across the table.

the left side of your leg is searing where it’s pressed to his. he’s been avoiding interactions with you as much as possible tonight, although every time he reaches in front of you, you feel him tense.

this close proximity is almost too much to handle. the smell of his shampoo wafts towards you every time he turns his head and you feel like a something from a cartoon, drifting away on the scent wave. 

yamada is telling a long-winded story, while a disgruntled looking aizawa chimes in occasionally. izuku seems enraptured, laughing and asking questions right on cue. if he wasn’t so genuine, you’d think he’s sucking up.

all his focus is directed on yamada and it strikes you that this is a golden opportunity.

you bite your lip to stop from smirking with glee, and glance down to see that the hem of the tablecloth falls… perfectly, right where you want it. izuku is leaning forward, the length of his waist concealed beneath the table, and the way your hands are clasped in your lap right now, they are too. 

no one notices when you creep your hand forward along the edge of the booth seat, sliding it over his leg and squeezing. 

no one except izuku, of course. 

his eyes dart to your face immediately, but his expression gives nothing away, and he looks away just as fast. 

alright, you’ll bite. 

you crawl your fingers higher up his thigh, slipping them momentarily into his pocket and yanking at it. his leg twitches then, like he’s trying to shake you off, but you persist. 

when you finally grope at his dick, it’s already more than halfway hard, and you can’t help your smirk now. 

suddenly, izuku grips your wrist and coughs loudly. he turns to you and his expression is still guarded but his eyes are blazing. 

“do you want to go smoke?” he asks abruptly. 

“i don’t—" you start, but it doesn’t matter because he’s standing and shuffling you out past yagi, following closely at your back.

he’s practically shoving you, turning over his shoulder to say, “we’ll be right back, just going to have a quick smoke.”

yagi watches you leave with a knowing stare, but yamada looks confused, asking, “when did you start smo—" before he’s swiftly kicked under the table and shuts his mouth with a clack of his teeth. 

outside, izuku is dragging you down the street, hand gripping your wrist. 

you stumble to keep up with his frustrated stomp, calling, “h-hey, where are we going?”

he doesn’t look back, gritting his teeth when he says, “i live close by.” 

the rest of the short, silent walk is laced with discomfort. when you reach his apartment, you wait awkwardly as he fumbles for his key and then finally shoves the door open and you inside. 

it’s cute, if not small. hero merch is intermixed with regular decor, which is unsurprising. he has a turntable and a stack of records beside it; there’s quite a few plants in pots on the windowsill. he has a small futon, a table to eat at, and a counter that connects to the kitchen. papers litter both surfaces, some in neat little piles and some strewn haphazardly. there's a hallway and you assume it leads to a bathroom and his bedroom.

it’s very sweet, very him. smells like him, too, and you take a deep breath. 

when you turn away from the apartment, you see izuku standing by his closed front door, arms crossed, looking furious. 

right; you’d almost forgotten why you’re here.

“what the hell was that?” his tone is so angry it shocks you, but you shrug, feigning innocence. “i was just messing around.”

he grips at his hair in frustration and starts pacing, muttering, “that is not messing around, i can’t believe you would do that in front of my mentors, in public. what if someone had seen you?” 

you shrug again, and he sucks at his teeth. “i don’t know, but they didn’t, so does it really matter?”

“yes! it matters, you’ve been absolutely out of control lately and i knew there was something up with you, but this—it’s crossing a line, do you seriously want my attention that badly?” his words sting a little bit. did you want his attention that badly?

no, it was more like you needed it, craved it, couldn’t get enough of his attention. 

“please,” you snort. “i don’t need the attention of someone who’s beneath me.” “you don’t seriously feel that way,” he states, but it almost sounds like a question. “why on earth,” you exclaim, “would i want attention from someone like you?” 

his pacing ceases now, and he comes to you where you stand, taking your wrists in his hands and looking hard at your face.

“i don’t think you mean that,” he says, and you squirm in his grip, trying to tug your wrists back. he holds you firmly but gently, gaze imploring.

“fuck off!” you bark, still squirming, and he groans in frustration. 

“you’re such a liar! jesus, your so full of shit i doubt even you know what’s true and what’s not! anything going on up here?” he lets go of your wrist to flick at your forehead and the action makes you—embarrassingly—gasp, pupils widening and cheeks flushing.

swallowing thickly, you see some sort of recognition dawning on his face. 

“this whole time," he starts slowly, intentionally, "i’ve been trying to be nice to you. even when you act like such a brat,” his eyes trail down your body and back up to yours, sending a shiver down your spine.  “especially then... but you like it more when i’m mean, don’t you?” 

your mouth falls open in surprise and you can’t help the way your thighs clench slightly. 

always watchful, always noticing, he actually laughs out loud at the effect his words have. it’s a short, barked laugh, bursting forth like he wasn’t expecting it. 

he’s studying you now, like you’re a specimen to be uncovered, finger tapping against his lips as he purses them. 

“that’s definitely it,” he muses. a mischievous twinkle appears in his eye now, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“i thought girls liked it when the boys they’re into are nice to them? you must be some kind of freak, then,” he ponders, crowding your space and lowering his face to yours, so he can look at you squarely. 

“stupid deku, m’not into you. don’t be ridiculous.” 

“izuku,” he demands. 

“i-what?”

“that’s what i want you to call me.”

“i—uhhm.. okay…” 

the prospect of using his first name feels so intimate. 

you turn the name around and around in your head, weighing out how it would feel to say, tasting it. 

izuku. 

“izuku,” you whisper it, testing it out; admittedly, it feels… right.

in front of you, his pupils blow wide at the sound. his throat bobs, and he murmurs, “yeah,” like he’s been waiting to hear it. 

at once, you feel overwhelmed.

“okay, well, izuku, i don’t even know where you got that idea.” the delicate moment breaks, and he scowls. “i don’t like you, so don’t get confused.”

you’re a liar.  you know it, he knows it.

there’s very little leg for you to stand on, and it’s reduced to nothing when he abruptly cups your sex, thumb and index teasing at your soaked panties, pulling and twisting the fabric. you shiver at the contact. they’re dripping, clearly disproving your claim. he sucks in a breath and gives you an exasperated look, like he’s disappointed. 

you look away, moving to step back, but he follows you, backing you up until you hit the countertop, nowhere else to run to. 

his face morphs into mock concern when he looks down at his fingers, then back at your face; voice is low and laced with condescension when he leans close to your ear and says, “did someone tell her that?” 

you balk. “w-what? what?” 

he’s shaking his head, like he’s talking to no one in particular. “hmmm. yeah, it’s like i thought, i don’t think she knows that you don’t like me. and clearly—" he nudges the slick undies to the side and teases the fingers through your folds, pinching your clit. a wide smirk curls his lip when you gasp. “—she’s the one who’s making all your decisions right now.”

he’s making it harder to keep up with the game that you yourself set into motion; it’s just that right now, he’s so much better at playing than you. 

“d-don’t—“ you splutter, losing your train of thought for just a second as he continues to toy with you, “don’t be-ahhh—" slipping two fingers inside, curving against that one soft spot that makes your toes clench, “—gross!”

“when are you going to give up?” he sneers, “this is just embarrassing for you. you keep trying to act tough but i can feel you twitching around my fingers.”

you are twitching, your pussy constricting and contracting as he pumps in and out, prodding at the soft walls of flesh to see how they react.

it’s not long before you’re gasping for air as you cling to his arm. your orgasm strikes through your body with a jolt, sudden and completely unexpected. 

he slides his digits out of your cunt, studying them before holding them up for you to see. 

“just look how much she likes me, huh?”

taps your mouth with a murmured here, have a taste; your tongue darts out to trace his fingertips. they’re sweet.

he slides them in his own mouth, then, relishing the flavor. 

“sweet,” he mutters, “tastes good.”

he’s ushering you into his bedroom after that, steering you through his apartment as you lean back into him in slight resistance. soon, though, you’re  seated at the edge of the bed; attempting to unbutton his shirt with rushed, sloppy movements, hands shaking.  

“are you… nervous?” his voice is velvet in your ear. “see, i thought this was nothing, so why are you nervous if i’m so beneath you?” 

“shut up!” you squeak. “i’m not.” he tuts, but doesn’t say more. 

still, he takes a little pity on you, quickly ridding you of the rest of your clothes before slipping out of his own. 

the sight is… well, all your theories about his physique are proven true; a smattering of scars and freckles splash across his well worked body, strong and solid with training. you train your eyes lower and your eyebrows shoot to your hairline; he’s thick, long, veiny, and so hard it must be painful. 

he catches your staring, but still says nothing; just lets you drink in the view.

when he hoists himself over you, nudging your legs apart with his knees, there’s something intense in the way his eyes devour your form. everywhere he looks, your skin feels like it’s burning. 

it makes you feel shy, vulnerable. 

makes you wanna lash out, the only way you know how to deal with overwhelming emotions like this. 

“you’ll probably cum in like thirty seconds,” you taunt quietly, trying to conceal the knocking in your knees. 

“oh, like you can talk?” he scoffs, lining himself up with your entrance, fisting his cock with a soft groan. “just shut up, okay? i’ve heard enough of your shit today.” 

it’s without warning when he bullies his way into your cunt, splitting you open wide with a grunt. no patience as he buries himself deep, balls slapping against you with a loud clap.

it lights a delicious fire, starting in your core and spreading through your bloodstream like molten lava.

when you gasp, it’s raw, too honest, too revealing. 

you clamp your mouth shut tight, practically gritting your teeth to keep the moan bubbling in your chest from leaking out. 

he can’t help it when his dick twitches, murmuring a quiet, “i-fuck—“ as he tentatively thrusts, and the sound rings in your ears like the gates of heaven have opened just for you.

he’s not deep enough, and moving so slow.  it’s on purpose, to drag it out, to tease you.

if you didn’t know him, hadn’t come to rely on his annoyingly dependable goodness and kindness and whatever, you’d say he looked pretty scary. there’s a wicked kind of glint in his eye as he licks his upper lip, driving into you into again and again and again. 

“stop pretending,” you feel him deeper each thrust, whine and grip at the sheets in what can only be anticipation and frustration, “you don’t want me to fuck you like a whore.” 

the words practically sizzle against your skin. he presses a hand against your lower belly and you groan—

that’s when he pulls out all the way, fast, and you can’t help the little gasp that tumbles out of you at the loss of sensation, at the sudden emptiness.

the sting is surprising; your heart sinks at the separation and you try to scoot forward, closer, but he stops you, hands on your thighs. 

leaning back on his heels, he surveys you beneath him, all splayed out and panting; sucks in a breath as your eyes dart over his body and linger on his dick, resting heavy between his abdomen and your belly. pre is pearling down his tip, which is bulbous, red, angry looking. the sight makes your legs twitch involuntarily.

“awww,” he coos, mocking you with a pout. “are you missing my cock already?” he feigns checking a watch that isn’t there. “seems like i lasted longer than your… prediction, which makes you wrong. that’s a shame.” 

you drag your eyes away, trying to look anywhere but him and failing miserably as he catches them anyway. embarrassment burns your face, only made more apparent by the way your body is practically vibrating with wanton desire.

you let out a breathy sound that’s meant to be a huff of frustration and he can’t help but laugh, savoring the way your gaze flits nervously over his features. 

“already keening like a needy little bitch in heat, hm?” 

the words are mean… since when does izuku talk like this?  so…. so condescending, so degrading.  your cunt flutters around nothing, slick arousal trailing down your ass and making the sheets all sticky.

he leans forward, until his face is right above yours and he’s peering straight down at you. 

the look he gives is withering. 

it sends your heart pounding in your chest, makes you feel all nervous and shy, makes you squirm in discomfort, wishing he would train those intense eyes somewhere other than your face. 

“you’re always picking stupid fights expecting me to just sit there and take it.” he mutters, almost to himself, “never thinking about how i feel.” he’s held up by his elbows now as he shifts his weight and presses down, pinning you in place with his hips. you feel his tip graze at your clit and whimper. 

“izuku, i—“ 

he interrupts you by mercifully slipping back into you, planting a placating and somehow condescending peck on your lips. 

it says, you be quiet now, it’s my turn to talk.

“now,” he huffs, emphasizing each word with a snap of his hips,  “-who’s-” snap! “-gonna-” snap! “-take-” snap! “-it.” snap!

the pace is steady now, and brutal, as he leans forward and angles himself to reach even deeper. 

one hand tugs your hair and forces your head back, exposing your neck. his tongue lashes out and sweeps at the trail of drool that slips past your lips and dribbles onto your chin, before he drags the same hand to your face and squeezes the hollows of your cheeks; it forces your mouth open and he spits, your saliva mixing with his and slipping down the back of your tongue. 

a moan resonates deep in your chest.  “now swallow it.”

izuku watches you hungrily as you comply, licks and bites at your throat like he just can’t help himself. 

“maybe i’ll put that in my next gooner porno, you think?” he chuckles, albeit breathily. 

you say nothing. there’s a floaty feeling in your head and it’s starting to spread down your body, making every sensation feel heightened to the point that saying words feels like it would be a real challenge.

“finish writing it after this, before i jerk off to my waifu? that’s what you said, isn’t it?” you stay silent still as the tips of your fingers start to go numb. 

but there’s no slacking off for you, as he pats your cheek to get your attention. you know he can be gentler, when he grips at your face, making you look at him; but you can’t say you mind the roughness. 

“that is what you said?” he snarls, and through the fog you realize he’s really asking you, likely expects some sort of response. blinking up at him, you try to will your brain to catch up; to say something, do something other than grip and paw at his arms like they’re a lifeline as he fucks you dumb. 

he clicks his teeth, disappointed. 

“it’s simple, honey. it’s yes —” he nods your head, still gripping your cheeks, “or no—” now he shakes it side to side. 

your eyes are a little watery when you manage to nod on your own, and he lets you go, waits for your answer.

“yes,” you admit, trying hard to focus. 

“yes what?”

“yes,” you whimper, “that’s what i said.”

izuku speaks with a voice dipped in sugar when he says, “wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?”

“y-yeah, i-i mean, wait, no—?" “too fucked out to think straight, huh?” he coos, pinching your cheek. 

he’s driving his cock into you at a punishing pace and you’re all hiccoughing gasps and moans, “please don’t stop, i’m so close m’gonna cum—" when he falters.

“what was that?” 

izuku, thank goodness, doesn’t pull out of you again like he did before, but his hips slow to a grind, then one slow, deep thrust in and he stills. the weight of him is suffocating. you’re so close that tears well in your eyes again, but he keeps you teetering on the edge. 

there’s an incredulous look on his face. 

“you think you deserve to cum again? you haven’t even apologized, or anything.”

“i—p-please, i—"

he shakes his head. 

“you really don’t get it, do you? why i put up with it? i—don’t... don’t you feel it?” 

your heart is racing, and from the way your bodies are pressed together you can feel izuku’s thrum in his chest too, keeping time. your noses are inches apart, and he looks at you with desperation, like he needs you to understand. you want to, but you don’t, can’t quite make sense of what he’s getting at. 

“f-feel what?”

“feel how much i like you. how much i want you.” 

he presses a hand to your abdomen and forces you to be aware: you can feel it, feel him. right where he belongs.

“i’ve wanted this— wanted you, ever since the first time i saw you. talked to you,” he swallows thickly, “heard your voice, smelled your skin.”

this revelation, of izuku’s feelings for you, make your head spin and pussy clamp down hard. he gasps, ruts into you involuntarily. 

it’s with shaky control that he takes a deep, grounding breath, like he’s reminding himself how. “before i keep going—" you whine and try and buck your hips to get a little friction, but he holds you fast. “—before i keep going, you have to admit that you like me too.” 

he’s not talking down to you now, he’s asking. asking you to let down your guard, just for a second. 

it all seems so obvious, then. maybe the games you and izuku have been playing are more similar than you thought. 

your words all drenched in venom, his in honey, both begging: please, just surrender to me so i can surrender to you, too. 

each desperately wanting the other to stop the game and get real; each dancing around it anyway, too scared to be the first. 

the final hand has been played now, with this. his cards are all laid out for you to see, and now it’s your turn. 

it proves what you’ve known deep down, that he’s always gonna take care with you. that he really is better, kinder, sweeter than you, going first like this. 

he won’t hold it against you, though. not when your pussy is squeezing him like a vice, not when he can practically hear colors and taste sounds, high on the heady feeling of you squirming and boneless beneath him.

green eyes are soft as he leans down and noses at your temple. “go on, tell the truth.” 

his hair tickles as it brushes against your face. he smells so damn good. you can’t help but nip at his jaw in frustration. he tastes good, too.

“yeah,” you choke, finally giving in. “yes, i do. like you.” 

being honest feels so good, you can’t stop the words from flowing now, “i really like you. i-i want you so badly it—it hurts. i can’t help… it makes me…. i feel crazy, and like… i can’t breathe, and—” 

and then he finally kisses you, all teeth gnashing and tongues dancing. a hand comes up to cup your face, almost gingerly. 

when he starts to move again, it’s slow and sticky. 

rich sounds of sex fill the room: the squelching of him drawing in and out, the smack of skin against skin, the slight creak of the bed beneath you as he fucks you into it. 

both of your heaving breaths, coating the air, making it feel heavier somehow.  the little sounds of pleasure being torn from your mouths.

“j-just—hah—one more thing,” he murmurs, voice wavering.

“okay,” you purr, expecting some other pointed question, maybe even another heartfelt confession.  “i think we can both agree that sexually harassing your coworker because you like him—“ 

“izuku!“ 

“—makes you more of a perverted freak than i am,” he muses, ignoring your protest completely. 

he’s teasing again, but it isn’t quite the same as before; you can hear the smile in his tone.

“i’m… sor-sorry—ahhh—" your senses are being kicked into overdrive and you feel the brain fog starting to return, making everything feel saccharine and slow. 

“now say it.” 

huh? what did he mean?

“i-izuku, i said m’sorry—“

“i want you to say it.” 

it takes a second to realize what he’s demanding, and you huff. he’s so mean, he doesn’t let you get away with anything. 

despite feeling raw and exposed, pinned sniffling beneath him with a wobbly lip, you admit, “fine. i’m the freak, a-and pervert, and the other stuff. okay?” 

he pretends to think about your words, as if he’s mulling them over, deciding if they’re enough for you to get what you want.  

cocky bastard. 

“yeah, okay,” he agrees, and lavishes you with another kiss, a tasty reward for your compliance.

a familiar sensation starts to build, feelings of pleasure coiling tight in your gut.

“wanna cum, izuku, please.”

“okay,” he pants again, and increases his pace, hand finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. you feel so good, so full. he’s fucking you with intention, grinding into your hips with each thrust. 

it’s clear by the breathy moans and cries of your name that tumble from his lips that he’s close, too, and you lift your head to attach your mouth to his neck, whimpering into the sweaty skin like a prayer,

izukuizukuizuku.

"i-inside?" he gasps, and you nod into him. the same floaty feeling from before surrounds you now, and the wave that’s been building finally crests, then breaks, your orgasm rippling through your body and taking izuku’s with it. 

a flash of his hips and you can feel the hot ropes of cum he fucks into you as you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, before he finally stutters to a stop, heaving. 

sheathed inside, his lips find yours with urgency, like he needs to kiss you the way he way he needs oxygen. you kiss like that for a moment, before you pull away to suck in a much needed breath. 

he gently slides out of you and collapses by your side, mouthing at your neck softly as his hand cups your cheek, yours reaching up to curl around it. 

for a moment, you both just breathe in the silence, before he smiles and pokes your cheek. “i knew i was right, i had a hunch after you said i was annoying—"

“oh, shut it,” you laugh, swatting at his finger. “you sure waited a while to put me out of my misery.” he smiles, pulling you closer and planting a kiss on your head. 

“yeah, it’s just so fun to watch you squirm.”

you huff in fabricated annoyance and mumble, “yeah, yeah.” 

you ponder for a moment, then laugh and say “‘do you want to go smoke?’ that’s really the best you had?” 

izuku reddens, defending himself, “hey! it’s all i could think of, okay?”

you turn to face him and tug on a curl. he nuzzles your cheek affectionately. 

“they know we’re not coming back, right?” you ask, and he rolls his eyes, snorting.  

“yeahhh, i'm pretty sure they know.”