🄱 ┊ ꒱ DNI: rape/sa jokes. pedophilla. incest. bullying. proshippers. loli cons. block me if you support that stuff. ALSO DO NOT MESSAGE ME ASKING IF ITS OKAY TO SEND NUDES. (do NOT ask! someone already asked me and now im scared someones gonna send me a nude 💀)
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Your boyfriend has been sporting the same hair style since the first day you’ve met him.
His trademark space buns were part of his identity at this point and you’d rarely see him without them, unless it's wash day and he has to let his hair out, otherwise his hair will be simply parted in the middle and tied in two separate buns.
However, for some reason, he decided to make a change in his style for once. You don’t know what inspired the sudden decision, but you still support it obviously and offered to help since you’re quite good with hair.
He showed you the reference picture. ‘It looks simple. It shouldn’t take too long’ you thought.
If only you knew how wrong you were…
What should’ve taken less than two or something hours has extended to nearly three because this boy won’t stop flinching and complaining whenever you touch his head.
“Oga, how do you want me to do your hair if you keep flinching all the time…”
“You’re making it hurt on purpose, aren’t you…”
“I’m literally just parting your hair, stop being dramatic,” He just kissed his teeth and looked down again. You had to start by doing the front of his head because his neck area was ‘too sensitive’ apparently, so you’re finishing the back of his head now.
After hours of pain and suffering — his words, not yours — you were finally done. Well, almost done. There were still at least ten braids left to go…why does this boy need to have this much hair, huh? You’re kind of jealous that he has that much hair, but you’re definitely not jealous of how tender his scalp is…Because he’s been acting as if you’re doing some sort of acupuncture on his head or something. You can’t help but smile at the thought of his teammates seeing him act this whiny right now.
“How many are left…”
“Two.”
“You’re lying again.”
“I’m not! I promise we’ll be done in a minute.”
Except you weren’t.
It took you another thirty minutes to finish because he kept on complaining again. Guess he should just stick with his usual hairstyle…it looks cuter on him anyways.
an — this is js me projecting lowk...but someone pleaseee send me an onazi req, this was too basic ☹️ also i randomly threw in the word oga there cus my friend keeps calling me that over text all the time lol 😛
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
do you ever just feel overly horny, overworked and underfucked but you KNOW izu wouldn’t let his sweet girl feel neglected
✩꒱ overworked, underpaid and severely fucked — ft. izuku midoriya .ᐟ
🏁 ꒰ ✩ smut ⋆ mdni ⋆ pro hero izuku midoriya & fem!reader. oral sex, established relationship, care taker izuku. -> izuku midoriya is a good boyfriend, pervy and a little weird … but good. what? it’s not his fault that you’re so easy to look after.
overworked, underpaid but not!! underfucked when you’re with izuku !!!
he’s a little weird, a little perverted but he can be a really good boyfriend if you just give him a chance. promise! izuku is so doting, he’ll leap at the chance to take care of something for you even if you insist you’re getting along well financially.
the first time you let him pay for your food shop and essentials, he walks out of the store with three bags for life on each arm and a boner he just barely manages to conceal. you’re huffy and annoyed because you hardly need the stuff he picked up but it’s enough to last you, so you can’t complain. you kiss deku stupid after he’s loaded the car and lick into his mouth when he settles into the driver’s seat. “always happy to help you, baby.” he murmurs giddy. “just text me what you need next time, you don’t even have to leave the house.” between smooches he doesn’t say he expects a thank you, but you feel the way his chest bristles bristles beneath your fingertips whenever you do give your thanks. as though you’re praising the lord and graced him enough to give you this blessing. he is a little weird.
izuku has an annoying tendency to know what you need before you need it. a bath with lavender oil and candlelight upon return from a three day business trip out of city helping with company interviews — one you had no say on going to. a home-cooked meal because you didn’t have a chance to grab lunch between meetings, although pork katsudon is all he’s good for ( he’ll call kacchan for recipes and cooking advice once you tire of his own skill set). a new work bag because the one you’ve had since starting busted at the strap on the way home, your new one just so happens to be designer because the leather is stronger.
he does it all with a kiss pressed to your cheek and a smile that causes a crinkle at the corner of his eyes — sickly sweet and sticky against you but you tell him thank you all the same and he tells you anything, always. in response. you’re spoiled rotten to the point of feeling suffocated but it’s good, so good, to be swept off your feet for a little while.
izuku is a great listener too. you’ll come home from your job where they don’t pay you enough pennies to give a fuck, designer purse now abandoned on the sideboard by the counter with your keys, heels clicking angrily and izuku will be there ready to hear you out. take your mind off things for a little while.
“you’re frowning, sweet girl, what’s wrong?”
then he’s on his knees, crisp white blouse taut against his chest and tie loose, as he slips your heels off one by one accompanied by angel’s kisses. he lets you curse and vent, spill foul secrets about your coworker who keeps taking credit for your work and your boss who demands too much in too little time all while nodding with bouncing ever-green curls brushing against the inside of your thighs and up your itty bitty pencil skirt.
you ramble on and on, your nails taking through his curls as he descends down on your centre. lips hot on your panties, teething at the fabric that’s already wet and has been since he first sunk to his knees before you — placing you at epicentre of his entire universe. izuku nods at the same time he kisses your clit, agreement in the form of sucking the slick from you as if you’re the only source of life for a thousand miles.
“and god, zu — she stole that client from right u-under my nose!” you’re scowling but your body melts into him below, your hips buck over his nose and he thinks for a second he could die here, happy and unable to breathe if it meant drowning in the deliciousness of your cunt. you’re sweeter when you’re pissed off, when you use him to ease the tension wound tight in your shoulders. izuku is desperate for you to use him, need him, he prefers life this way.
“mhm…” he says, or groans, or sighs blissfully like he’s really listening to you. focused on the tale of how that petty girl at your petty job keeps taking the credit. hed take care of that too, if you let him — call them up and say hero deku had a complaint to make. he settles for this, the now, the exact moment you clench around the thickness of his tongue as it thrusts far enough along your slippery walls to make your body shake. maybe it’s selfish off him, that izuku waits for you to get all riled up at work so that you come home to him like this. broiling under the flesh, smelling like sex that stirs his appetite into something more sinister.
when you hug the back of his head to your weeping slit, izuku purrs as though he’s been rewarded. his tongue does a sweet of the entire length of your cunt, gathers what you drool in viscous waves and smelts his spit into the molten mix, frothy cream gathering just around your hole and clit. messy, greedy, filthy but he doesn’t let up even when his chin is painted with a varnish of arousal.
he doesn’t mind being your crutch or your tool to pass a bad day by, as long as you’re above him like this — toes digging into his shoulders, fist tight in his hair, . “a-and seriously, zu. f-fuck, fuck that girl. fuck. i’m gonna cum!” you squeak shakily and he knows the job is done. you’re happy and you’re distracted, babbling god knows what about who knows what but the anger once built up inside you snaps like an easy spring. your orgasm is melt in the mouth, a piece of heaven created just for izuku to indulge in.
perhaps it is weird and perverted that he loves to be used and to use his skill on you… but you like it and maybe that makes you a little perverted too.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
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NOTE! jean x reader. sigh SIGH BIG SIGH. im down bad. also does anyone have naps like that? like ones where you feel like you just woke up from a new dimension.
masterlist!
your head's pounding. throat dry, heart racing, and when you shift you can feel the throw blanket behind you almost pill off your skin.
it's hot. there's a subtle buzz of voices shouting, birds chirping, and the sound of air circulating from the AC that just turned on. it's not helping you whatsoever, not with a six-foot-two man on top of you.
a warm breath on your collarbone sends a shiver down your spine. jean's face is buried into your neck, and your hand is buried into his hair. his arm is wrapped so tightly around your waist that you can feel his gold bracelet cut into your stomach. fingers toying on the edge of your belly button. it makes you a little dizzy, the way he so easily wraps you into his whole being.
it's almost sticky. where his hand is connected to your stomach or where your chest connects with his bare one. where your leg is wrapped around his. where his cheek lies on your shoulder, the strap of your tiny tank top rolled down. you recall him rubbing on you like a cat earlier, sleeping the material down further before pressing a fluttering kiss onto the skin.
"hmph," you mumble, shoving your hand against his chest. he doesn't move, no tightening of his grip, not a single noise from him.
you almost believe he's asleep. but you can feel his fingers running along your anklet as your foot dangles off the sofa, tracing the letter 'j'. feel the way his chest rises against yours, not heavy and loud the way it is when he's actually asleep.
you think you could spend a lifetime doing this. that the sweaty skin wouldn't gross you out, nor would the mark of his bracelet hurt as much. because it's him. and when it comes to him, you don't mind his heavy body weight or how he squeezes you a little too tight.
it makes you a little dizzy, the way you feel so deeply. the way the ache in your chest hardens as his grip on you does. a good dizzy.
if you made it this far just now im going for a run today WISH ME LUCK!!
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