although his tone is light, almost playful— you can feel the edge tucked just beneath it. your brows furrow at his insinuation, a scoff slipping past your lips. “i didn’t say i want to fuck your friend. i was just saying he’s pretty. like a doll.”

izuku simply laughs, the sound colored with something almost a bit dangerous, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “fine. any other of my friends you find ‘pretty?”

“i’m not gonna tell you now,” you roll your eyes, returning your gaze to the screen in your hand. “‘cause you’re gonna be weird about it.”

“so there’s more?”

“no,” you scoff once more, teeth grinding against each other as you grow chagrined.

“i think ‘yeah,” he says mildly, tipping your phone’s screen down to redirect your attention. “i’m just curious, my love. i like knowing what you think about my friends.”

while the delivery of his words sound sweet, you know better. you sigh, setting your phone down to let yourself think, because you knew he wouldn’t let it go. “fine,” you mumble after a beat. “kaminari, i guess, but he’s annoying. kirishima… but i can’t tell if he’s cute or i just like that he’s tall. sero’s pretty. and i guess— ” you hesitate, before exhaling sharply, “—bakugo has some appeal to him. there, happy?”

“hm,” is all izuku responds with at first, letting himself sit with his thoughts. “i don’t think you could handle that train.”

“you said you weren’t going to be weird!” you huff, a heat creeping up your cheeks as the notion of such flashes in your mind.

a snicker escapes him at the sound of your whine, his eyes tracking the way your expression shifts as the dirty fantasies run amok in your mind. “well, i’m just saying— they all play pretty rough. like, eijirou has a huge size kink— he used to brag about how his dick reached like… here… when he did it with a girl.”

you glance downwards as his hand comes to rest just right above your belly button, your body instinctively bucking at the idea, much to your embarrassment. “that’s, that’s crazy,” you mumble, trying to feign nonchalance. “i don’t think that’s possible.”

“really?” izuku asks, tilting his head, his voice deceptively soft. “mine hits about here—” he lowers his hand a few inches down, “—when we do it. he’s a bit taller than me so i feel like it’s easy to imagine.”

“it just… doesn’t seem like… healthy or safe,” you hesitate, “i don’t know how anyone would enjoy that.”

he only offers you a shrug, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “there’s a lot of girls out there who think bigger is better,” he notes. “what do you think?”

“i’m satisfied. like… happily.”

chuckling at that, izuku continues. “denki has a bunch of piercings, and i mean like— i haven’t seen it — but, he has a couple down there. you feel those sort of things with every movement.”

your thighs clench at his description, a surreal heat rising in your core over the concept of your boyfriend talking about the sex lives of his friends. “i don’t think i’d like that…” you comment, unsure why you were even putting in your input, as well as if you were lying or not. “it seems weird. like what if they get caught or lost?”

“they’re usually pretty well in there,” he muses, giving your hip a soft pat, “you wanna ask him and see?”

“no,” you glare, biting the inside of your cheek. “why do you want me to fuck your friends so bad?”

“why do you want to fuck my friends so bad?” he retorts.

“i said i don’t.”

“yeah? then why are you so wet?”

before you can react, his fingers glide down your stomach, effortlessly slipping beneath the waistband of your pajamas and into your panties, unbothered by your attempts of pulling away to avoid proving him right.

“ack!— izu, quit it!”

your protest goes unacknowledged. instead, a long thick finger runs along your bare slit, arousal collecting against it’s pad. “quit what?” he asks, acting oblivious. “touching you? or talking about my friends? 'cause i don’t think you want me to stop either.”

when you don’t respond, pretending to be too distracted by his ministrations, he giggles, leaning close to whisper into your ear. “y’wanna know about hanta?”

“wh-what about him?” you find yourself asking, prurience getting the best of you.

izuku smirks as you maintain a sort of act of innocence. “he likes tying girls up with his quirk and doing whatever he wants to them,” he explains slowly, taking in how the puffy lips of your pussy flutter against him with every word leaving his mouth, “blindfolds them. gags them. pinches their nipples. think he likes omorashi too.”

“o-omorashi?” you choke out, confused by how your own nipples have reactively already begun to stiffen against the fabric of your shirt. “that’s disgusting— why would he even like that?”

“denki likes it too,” he adds. “they’ve talked about how they like how helpless their partners get under them— the high they get from controlling someone else like that. i think they told me i should try it out with you one time...”

you shake your head, holding onto his arm for support as two calloused fingers slip inside your heat, pushing past the initial resistance with a delicious stretch. “nuh uh— no,” you refuse, a hint of curiosity betraying you, “that’s, that’s too weird.”

he chuckles knowingly at your reaction, fingers rocking back and forth as he speaks easily, “i think you’re just scared of me bullying you. but, hey — they’re a lot meaner than me — just imagine how they’d be with you.”

“i don’t wanna imagine that...” you exhale shakily, eyes rolling back as he brushes against your g-spot.

“but you already are imagining it,” he whispers, tapping against that exact spot again and again, over and over. “you’re soaked, babe.”

a haze feels as if it's clouding over your mind. “it’s because of you,” you whine, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in attempt to silence the noise.

“yeah?” he cooes, “it’s for me?”

you nod, a soft moan escaping you as he presses his thumb against your clit. “y-yes…”

“oh,” he smiles, as if he didn’t know. “you sure it’s not for shoto?”

“why— why would it be for him?” you ask, swallowing the pooling saliva in your mouth.

“well,” he starts, rubbing circles into you, “i don’t know. maybe you’re thinking about him using his quirk on you— teasing these—” his free hand slips under your shirt, rubbing a nipple between a thumb and a forefinger, before lightly tugging on the peak, “—with ice.”

“m’not,” you lie, already shivering as though you can feel it. you reach a hand down to palm at the growing bulge in his pants. “you’re hard,” you deflect, trying to gain some footing in this conversation, “maybe you’re the one thinking about him doing that to you.”

the attempt only makes him snicker. “nah,” he murmurs, fingering you deeper and deeper, “i’m hard because i’m thinking about how my perverted little girlfriend is about to cum on my fingers pretending it’s katsuki’s dick.”

you can feel your ears burn as the brief mental image takes you off guard — katsuki breathing heavy against your nape, gripping your hips hard, bruising — and you do your best to stifle the moan trying to escape your throat. “i, i’m not about to cum,” you whimper, fumbling with the waistband of his sweats in hopes of jerking him off as a diversion, but his hand under your shirt moves to catch your wrist, foiling the attempt.

“but you’re imagining it’s his dick, right?”

“i’m not doing that either!” you whine once more.

izuku only hums lightly at your denial. “he likes seeing girls cry, y’know that? one time, he sent me this picture of a girl he fucked — she had mascara all over her face, handprints around her neck — i thought it was a villain he fought at first. now that i think about it, i never really traded back with him…”

“no, no way— i f-fucking, fucking hate that guy,” you grit out, the idea of izuku sending his friend vulnerable pictures of you enraging yet strangely arousing.

“yeah?” izuku laughs, almost mockingly, “then why do you keep on clenching when i talk about him then?”

“it’s for you, baby, i swear…” you plead, begging him to believe you, feeling the waves of pleasure begin to ebb and flow in your core.

“you swear? you sure you’re not just saying that because you wanna cum?”

“i'm not,” you mewl, breath trembling in your chest, “it's for you, izu.”

“mm,” he murmurs approvingly, “whose pussy is this?”

“yours, only yours,” you gasp, eyes shutting tight as he curls his fingers, his free hand coming to tilt your chin upwards so that you couldn't hide from him.

“who's the only one who gets to play with this pussy? gets to have it?”

“you— oh my god,” you cry, toes curling as you feel yourself close to the edge, “i’m gonna cum, please don’t stop, please—”

“go ahead and cum, baby,” he groans, as if feeling your pleasure second-hand, “be a good girl, and cum for me.”

with his encouragement, you do exactly that, a whiny, whimper of a moan clawing itself out of your throat as your walls spasm around his fingers. izuku dutifully continues to pump his fingers in and out of you as you ride out the aftershocks.

“good girl,” izuku croons, subsequently slipping out of you. your forehead rests against his chest as you steady your breathing, the quiet in the room pressing in while your hazy mind slowly recollects itself.

eventually, you break the silence, mumbling the refrain you’ve been repeating for the past hour or so: “i don’t wanna fuck your friends.”

in response, he laughs, before guiding your hand to the outline of his cock in his sweatpants, allowing you to touch him at last. “i know, baby,” he whispers, mirth curling his lips, “although i’d prefer your first thought after cumming be, ‘i wanna fuck you.”

“i wanna fuck you,” you breathe without a second thought, gaze flicking to meet his.

his thumb lifts to brush against your bottom lip, watching as you press a gentle kiss to the pad, and you can feel his clothed shaft twitch against your palm. “hm,” he murmurs, before sitting up straight, “well, how exactly do you wanna do that?”

“i wanna suck your dick first,” you mumble, mirroring his actions before tying up your hair.

“mm, okay, baby,” he sighs contently, shifting to rest his back against the headboard of the bed. “just try not to moan any of my friends’ names when you’re choking on it, okay?”

“m’sorry,” you sob, toes curling in a mixture of pleasure and agony as he wrung out yet another orgasm from you, “i-i just love you so much, puh-pleaseee don’t be mad...”

the man couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how you were still worrying about the moral wrongness of your actions. if anything bothered him, it probably would've just been the established fact you hadn’t asked him upfront to properly breed you— because who were you to deprive him of the authentic baby-making experience?! thankfully, he was much more than willing to show you exactly his feelings on the matter and even more to pound them into your silly dumb head.

“i’m not mad, baby— we’ve been over this. i’m just trying to be a team player. unlike somebody.” with a grunt, he releases his grip in your hair, a large palm moving to splay itself against your lower back instead. “here— you move and see if the way you do it will get you pregnant or not.”

a heat burns across your cheeks. body trembling, you do as he says, small tearful hisses slipping past your lips as his fat cock drags along your sensitive walls.

“izukuuu,” you ultimately hiccup, “i can't... it's too much...”

your pathetic display only results in the disappointed click of izuku's tongue. “come on— you gotta do better than that, lovely. you think my cum is gonna stick with you doing that? you gotta get it deep.”

the following punctuating thrust catches you off guard, knocking you off balance, and your stomach meets mattress. you're left with barely any time to recover for when his pelvis begins grinding against your ass as he follows your descent, and his ankles hooking around yours as he mocks the mindless moans that escape you doesn't make taking it any easier either.

“oh, oh— do you feel that, baby?” he snickers, “that’s you going to be a mommy by tonight. gonna hafta get married and everything— make you my pretty little wife… never gonna leave you and i’ll make you pregnant like you want alllll the time… does that sound good, sweetheart? huh? can i get an answer?”

you try your best to scramble for answer, mumbling a, “y-yes! yes— please, yes…” in hopes responding speedily would result in him easing up a little. what you get instead is a sloppy kiss to the cheek succeeded by him wiping the drool trickling down your chin with his thumb.

“mm, good girl... one more round then, okay? gotta be thorough about these things.”