Breaking Rules
Tenya Iida x (fem) Reader
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It was nearly midnight when Tenya Iida’s door creaked open.
He blinked in disbelief, hand still on the knob, gaze flickering rapidly between the digital clock on his nightstand—11:58 p.m.—and the sight standing right in front of him.
You. Wearing nothing but fuzzy slippers, a pair of cotton shorts that barely clung to the tops of your thighs, and an oversized t-shirt that slipped off one shoulder. You looked sleepy, cozy, soft—utterly dangerous.
“Hi” you whispered, smiling up at him with that innocent tilt of your head.
Tenya’s eyes widened. His mouth opened, then closed. He glanced down the hallway—left, right, even toward the security camera near the ceiling—like you’d brought a bomb to his front door instead of yourself.
“D-Do you have any idea what time it is?” he stammered. “This is entirely inappropriate. If someone were to see—if a teacher or even a classmate—”
“No one’s around,” you interrupted calmly, stepping closer. “And we don’t have class tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that this is a direct violation of—of the student handbook! Visitors aren’t allowed after curfew and—” You placed a gentle hand on his chest. “Tenya,” you said, quietly, “it’s just one night.”
His mouth trembled around a protest, but your hand curled around his wrist and you stepped inside his room before he could finish. He backed up, heartbeat hammering in his chest like he’d just broken the law. You shut the door softly behind you.
Walking toward his bed. “I just wanna sleep next to my boyfriend.” He stood frozen in the middle of the room, face flushed, glasses fogged. His striped pajamas clung to his long frame—the shirt buttoned all the way up to his collarbone. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides as you climbed into his bed like it was yours.
He joined you after a long pause, his movements stiff and unsure. He laid flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like he was trying to recite the U.A. rulebook in his head to stop thinking about the warmth of your thigh brushing his.
You turned on your side, propping yourself up on one elbow as your eyes wandered to the way the soft cotton of his pajama shirt pulled over his broad chest. Slowly, you swung a leg over his waist and straddled him.
He went still.
“W-What are you doing?” His voice cracked. “Th-this is not proper. This—”
“It’s just so hot in here,” you said softly, tracing your fingers along the edge of his shirt. “Aren’t you hot, Iida baby?”
His hips jerked slightly—barely noticeable, but it was enough.
Your fingers dipped down, slowly undoing the first button of his shirt. He swallowed hard.
“sorta—please, you shouldn’t…”
Another button undone. His chest began to show—hard lines of muscle, smooth skin, warmth rising under your touch.
“Please…” he whispered again, but it was weak now, breathy.
You unbuttoned another. Then another. The shirt parted, revealing the full expanse of his toned torso—taut abs, the curve of his obliques, that perfect divot leading down beneath the waistband of his pajama pants.
You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, then down the center of his chest. His hands clutched the sheets at his sides, his head tipping back into the pillow.
“Y-You have to stop,” he whispered.
But his hips bucked up into you. His cock was already hard beneath you—thick, twitching beneath the fabric, pressing against your core through your shorts.
“it doesn’t feel like you want me to stop tenya”
You rolled your hips down gently, letting the friction spark between your bodies. He gasped.
“You’re already so hard,” you murmured. “I thought this was inappropriate”
He groaned, face flushed red to the tips of his ears. “I-I can’t… I can’t think straight when you—”
“Then stop thinking,” you whispered against his neck. “Just feel.”
His hands finally rose—slow, trembling—and landed on your hips. His grip was firm. Desperate.
His hands stayed on your hips, trembling slightly as you rocked against him. You could feel him now—really feel him. Hard, hot, twitching beneath you, straining against the thin fabric of his pajama pants.
His chest heaved with every shallow breath. His eyes met yours—wide, pleading, conflicted.
“I-I should stop you.” he whispered.
“You don’t want to.”
He exhaled, shaky and soft. “No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”
You kissed him.
He gasped into your mouth like he’d never been kissed like that before—like he hadn’t let himself want it until now. Your lips moved slowly over his, guiding him, coaxing his control apart with every brush and tug. And when you ground your hips down again, he groaned into your mouth—loudly, head tipping back into the pillow, breath completely stolen.
You pulled back just enough to murmur, “Can I take this off you?” He nodded—quick, breathless.
You pushed the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, finally exposing all of him. He was beautiful—broad chest, sculpted abs, and strong arms you’d only imagined holding you like this. Your fingers slid over the planes of his torso, and you felt the way his muscles tensed under your touch, like he was barely holding himself back.
Then your hands moved lower. Over his waistband. Beneath the hem. slipped your hand into his pants and wrapped your fingers around him.
He was big—thick and flushed and so painfully hard it made him whimper when you stroked him for the first time. His hips bucked up again, completely unintentional, and his head fell back against the pillow with a deep groan.
“Oh my god—” His voice cracked. “I-It feels… I don’t even have words—”
“Good?” you teased softly, brushing your thumb over the leaking tip. He nodded furiously, mouth falling open.
You leaned down and kissed down his chest again as you stroked him—slow, steady, watching how quickly he unraveled beneath you. His hips had a mind of their own now, chasing your hand, desperate for more friction. His hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline.
“Iida,” you whispered against his neck, “you’re so sensitive. You’re gonna come like this, aren’t you?”
You could still feel him twitching against your palm, his breath shaky and uneven beneath you. His face was flushed, chest rising and falling in soft, stunned waves. You started to lean down to kiss him again—but then Tenya surprised you.
He grabbed your hips suddenly, strong and sure, and flipped you onto your stomach in one smooth motion. You let out a surprised gasp as you landed on your elbows, your shorts riding up to expose the curve of your ass.
“Tenya—?”
He didn’t answer.
His hands slid over your hips like he was memorizing them. His breath was ragged behind you as he pushed your oversized shirt up your back, exposing the soft skin beneath. You looked over your shoulder at him—he’d taken his glasses off, hair slightly messy now, the pajama shirt tossed to the floor.
His eyes were dark now. Heavy-lidded. Starving. “W-We shouldn’t,” he whispered, voice breaking. “We’ve never…”
“But you want to,” you said softly.
His hands gripped tighter. His thumbs dug into the flesh of your hips as he groaned, so low it barely escaped his throat. “I want to,” he admitted, his voice strained, “so badly, I can’t wait anymore.”
He tugged your shorts down slowly—pausing when they reached your thighs, like he was giving you one last chance to stop him.
You didn’t.
So he pushed them down fully, his palm sliding over your bare ass. He let out a shuddering breath. “You’re… perfect.”
You smiled into the pillow. “Then do something about it, Tenya—show me how perfect I am to you.”
That broke something in him.
You heard the rustle of fabric behind you—his pants being shoved down just a little more. The thick, hard press of him against your entrance, rubbing along your folds. He wasn’t inside yet, just teasing. Coating himself in your slick.
You whimpered and pushed your hips back. “Please, baby…” Tenya exhaled hard through his nose, leaning over your back and whispering near your ear, “You have to be quiet.”
“I will,” you promised, already trembling with need. “Please, fuck me I need you.”
And then he pushed in. You bit into the pillow as he filled you—slow, careful, but so deep. He gasped behind you, like your body had knocked the air right out of his lungs.
“F-Fuck,” he whispered, and the curse in his mouth sounded forbidden. “You feel… oh god, you feel amazing…”
He stayed still for a moment, trembling, holding your hips like if he let go he might fall apart completely.
Then he started to move. Slow at first—controlled, deep thrusts that made you moan against the sheets. His grip was bruising, his breath hot against your back. He groaned every time he pushed in, fighting the urge to get rougher.
But your hips kept meeting him. Rolling back. Begging for more.
“Stop doing that,” he rasped.
“Doing what?” you asked innocently.
“Pushing back like that. I can’t— I can’t keep it quiet if—”
You did it again. And that was it.
His hand slid up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades to arch your spine for him. His hips snapped forward faster, harder—deep and filthy. The sound of skin against skin filled the room in soft, rhythmic slaps, and even though you were trying to stay quiet, little gasps and whimpers kept slipping out of your mouth.
Tenya leaned forward, chest against your back, lips brushing your ear. “Be quiet,” he whispered. “You’re going to get us caught.”
But the way he fucked you said something else entirely.
“I-i can’t when your dick is literally h-hitting my fuc-fucking organs”
His hand reached down and rubbed slow circles over your clit, and your whole body tensed. “Tenya—!” He groaned, biting down softly on your shoulder to muffle his own moan as you clenched around him.
“Come for me,” he begged. “Please—please let me feel you—”
You came with a soft, broken cry, your body shaking beneath him. Your thighs trembled, your back arched, and Tenya’s pace turned sloppy, frantic. His hands gripped your hips like he was anchoring himself, and with one last, deep thrust, he came inside you—his whole body shuddering with the force of it.
He collapsed gently over your back, breathing hard, lips brushing your skin as he whispered your name like a prayer.
For a long moment, the room was nothing but silence and the hum of your heartbeats, tangled together in a mess of sweat and soft gasps.
“…This was so against the rules,” he whispered.
You smiled into the pillow. “And you loved every second.”
He let out a shaky laugh. “I think I might love you.”
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