announcementz: arctic analysis schedule out now!! please reblogs and like it up!! I love this series more than life so please give it even a fraction of that!! summary posted on the schedule!
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
-My Hero Academia-
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
izuku midoriya: ✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚
masterlist here!!!
eijiro kirishima: ๋࣭ ⭑🎸⊹ ࣪ ˖ ✮
jealous!kiri (smut, short)
we're not going anywhere (fluff)
habits (fluff)
diamond in the rough (fluff)
all for you (smut)
enough! (fluff) pt 1
blooming flower (smut) pt 2
glowing (smut) (for some reason I cant link it, but its in the other parts) pt 3
tall gf x kiri (smut, short)
katsuki bakugou: ‧₊ ᵎᵎ ⋆·˚ ༘ *💣 *💥~
best of friends (smut)
did I stutter?! (fluff)
we're not going anywhere (fluff)
is that really all you've got? (smut)
second chances (fluff)
whatever you say pretty boy (fluff)
birthday boy! (fluff)
present (smut)
hold you to it (fluff)
shouldve been me (angst, short)
short temper (fluff)
aftercare (fluff)
highschool sweethearts (fluff)
overwhelmed (smut)
sure you're in charge? (smut)
is this hate?! (smut)
denki kaminari: .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎ ϟ ˖ ݁ 𖥔.
charged payment (smut)
way more (smut)
about time! (fluff)
tenya iida: 📖.•📎.★🌀.•
blurry vision (smut)
beefy!tenya (smut, short)
whipped! (fluff, suggestive)
hanta sero: ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆
tutor (fluff) pt 1
ace! (fluff) pt 2
mashirao ojiro: ‧₊˚💛✩ ₊˚🌼⊹♡
operation: tail match! (fluff)
fumikage tokoyami: ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.
shadows and sparkles (fluff)
shouto todoroki: ‧₊˚ ❄️ ‧₊𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🔥
soar (fluff) pt 1
just the beginning (fluff) pt 2
tense (smut)
take care of him (fluff) pt 1
youre the one (fluff) pt 2
bittersweet (fluff/light angst)
memory (suggestive, light angst)
nothing like him (angst/smut)
momo yaoyorozu: °⋆.ೃ࿔:･🪻 °⋆.ೃ࿔:･
tbd!
ochaco uraraka: ‧₊˚🍡𖦹🌸‧₊˚.
is it just me or?... (fluff)
jealousy looks good on you (smut)
challenging me? (smut)
crushing (fluff)
mina ashido: ,🍧˚˖𓍢ִ໋🍓✧🦩˚⋆
tbd!
kyouka jirou: 🎵.𖥔 ݁ ˖🎶๋࣭ ⭑👾
quiet practice (fluff)
toru hagakure:⋆˚࿔♫⋆˚࿔📀♡⋆.˚🪼
tbd!
mirio togata: ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍋ɞ˚‧｡⋆
how much I love you (smut)
neito monoma: ‧₊˚✩⚜️ ₊˚💠⊹♡
obsession (fluff/ light smut)
class 1-A: ₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
sick day (fluff)
in the middle (angst)
in every life (angst)
3 losses, 20 wins (fluff)
spots! (fluff)
comfort and in chaos (fluff/light angst)
burn out (fluff) pt 1
the feeling (fluff) pt 2
goodnight! (fluff)
after the light moved on (fluff)
american exchange (fluff)
birthday boy! (fluff)
team bonding! (fluff)
restless (fluff)
the shadows we carry (fluff/light angst)
for the better (hurt/comfort)
reconcile (oneshots/fluff) pt 2
fights (oneshots/fights) pt 1
waiting (angst/fluff)
for the better (hurt/comfort)
secrets (fluff) pt 1
perceived flaws (angst) pt 2
rift (fluff)
never just protection (angst)
the novelty nova (fluff)
theater kid?! its a MUSICAL! (fluff)
the real support (fluff)
shouta aizawa: ˙ . ꒷ 🍙 . 𖦹˙— 🐈⬛
gravity and erasure (fluff)
all might/yagi toshinori: 🦸🏻♂️⋆｡°👊°⋆. ࿔*:🇺🇸･
more like me (fluff)
beautiful boy (fluff, angst)
UA teachers/Pro Heroes: ‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡📷
tracking shadows (fluff) pt 1
you've got guts (fluff) pt 2
mini might (fluff)
bloodhound (fluff) pt 3
tomura shigaraki: ‧˚꒰💢꒱༘‧—
save point (smut)
dabi/touya todoroki: ⊹₊ ☄⋆｡°✩
favorite (fluff)
hawks/keigo takami: .𓂃 ࣪ ִֶ🪶 ་༘ ࿐
sidekick (fluff)
A/N: thank you so much for all the support and interactions!! if u don't see ur fav up here, its most likely cause I just got tired ;) but requests are open and I'm happy to write for almost anything and anyone! rules posted, pls read before making requests!!
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synopsis: you and your boyfriend pro hero dynamight are fucking. it’s hard, carnal and hungry. he’s screwing you so deep before an interruption occurs… your ex boyfriend starts blowing up your phone, killing the mood and ultimately your man’s patience.
content: pro hero! katsuki bakugou , missionary sex , p in v , backshots , quite a bit of spanking , katsuki refers to your vagina in third person “she”, unprotected sex , katsuki is a huge ass guy , jealousy , semi-public sex, porn with little plot , angry bakugou, gets off on making your ex jealous
author’s note: not proofread so apologising in advance for spelling mistakes!
the bed was violently creaking with every movement as bakugou pounded his cock into you like he hated you. your legs tighten around his waist as your moans grew more elicit with every thrust.
he had a bad day out on patrol and right now the only things he wanted right now was his girl and his dick wet. bakugou was so far gone already, high on pleasure and spurred on by your pussy lips crudely squelching around his cock and making him groan.
“fuck you’re tight. god-“ he snarls, plunging himself deeper and hitting that g-spot that makes you gasp and press into him like a desperate slut. your cunt was soaked for him that every thrust made a crude plap and squelch. “hear that baby? she’s saying hello t’me. ain’t that polite?” he groans into your ear and you cringe, face contorting from shyness, trying to hide your face from him. he smirks from satisfaction, speeding up to watch you cry out for him as he fucks you deeper.
“k-katsuki… s’too— mmh! s’too..” you whine, struggling to get the words out.
“too what? cat gotcha tongue? can’t help you if you won’t talk baby.”
bakugou had his hands by either side of your head, making eye contact with you and relishing in all the sounds you were making. when you’d look away from embarrassment he’d move one his hands, holding yours with only one before lowering his head and smacking your face gently.
“look at me baby. won’t ask again.” he commands, carmine red eyes darkening at your trembling ones. you nod, trying your absolute best to not shut your eyes from ecstasy.
you’re being dicked down so hard your toes are curling.
you let out a cry of pleasure, nails clawing down his chiselled back. “what’s that baby? you gonna come?” he groans into your ear and you nod desperately.
he speeds up and your vision starts to go white, its filthy and nasty and just as your orgasm was on the very tip of your tongue he pulls out with a lewd ‘plap’. you whine as he flips you over. “why?”
he rolls his eyes and drags you up with one arm. “shut it woman. i’ll do what i want. now back that ass up for me, we ain’t done here.” he proclaims before grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath you. he forces your face down and lands a harsh smack to your ass that makes you yelp.
he’s wasting no time, grabbing your cheeks and spreading them whilst he looks down to inspect your pussy. he lets out a low whistle admiring how much slick there was. “fuckin’ hell sweetcheeks.”
then he’s got his meaty hands around your hips to keep you from running away from his cock, forcing your back to arch higher whilst your walls accommodate his size so nicely. it’s obscene and filthy the way his balls slapped against your ass. just as you began to drool into the pillow, your phone blared on the nightstand.
the pro hero grunts, ignoring the incessant string of sound at first— slamming himself into you even harder to drown it out with your whines.
but it just got louder. the more your phone buzzed the harder he went.
“m-maybe it’s an emergency? I should answer it.” you suggest weakly despite his glare.
now he was getting pissed. he had a bad fucking day and the last thing he needed was an interruption whilst all he was trying to do was fuck his girl. bakugou groans, reaching to grab the phone and hand it to you.
he notices you make a face as you look at your phone screen. “who is it?”
you avoid his gaze. “s’nothing.”
he snatched your phone and sees it for himself. he sees it’s no caller id. it’s gotta be your ex— this is the third time this week he’s called you now with no caller id. you had told him about how the obsessed fucker wouldn’t stop harassing you and now he was gonna make sure he’d put a stop to it. “thats it, im answering the phone. let him hear how a real man dicks you down.”
before you can argue with him he clicks answer and tosses your phone to the side.
“—hello? y/n?” your ex calls out. “i get you don’t wanna talk, but i miss you and i need you back.”
wasting no time, bakugou starts slamming into again. fucking you doggystyle as fast as possible, drawing out desperate and loud moans outta you.
“y/n?“ your ex raises his voice. “are you fucking serious?”
“sorry man, she’s busy. busy with real dick. ain’t that right honey?” bakugou spits into the phone, moving the device to your head whilst bullying his cock deeper and faster into your walls which were handling his size so nicely. “c’mon mama. you love this cock right? tell em’.”
he lands a harsh spank to your ass. you yelp “agh! yes— ffffuuuckkk! love it! i love you katsuki!”
“really baby? you love me? more than you ever loved this dickless wonder?”
“yes! so much!” you shout in pleasure. the scene was so lewd it was meant for a porno. not this.
he lands another smack to your ass. “that’s my girl.”
and maybe bakugou was being an asshole. and yes he’d hate this if it was the other way around. but sometimes you had to take extreme lengths for others to get the hint. the jackass should’ve left you alone the moment you two broke up. you were his and he’d make that clear to your ex just to get him to back off.
“still there my man? or do i have to go on FaceTime?” bakugou gloats, smirking into the mic.
“fuck you!” your ex finally shouts before ending the call. good on him for not sticking around before she came.
you’re too cockdrunk to notice, creaming around his cock so much that you were starting to feel that fuzzy feeling underneath your tummy.
“‘suki! im— im—“
“close? come for me baby. come for your hero.”
you come with a shout, pussy twitching as it creams around his length. bakugou rides out your orgasm aggressively, bucking his hips until he comes inside of you, thick and torrid. your legs give out. the both of you are covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and panting heavily.
you both collapse into eachother’s arms. you look at your boyfriend, who stares at the ceiling. his blonde locks are damp with sweat. you watch his rising chest. then, after a few moments, you speak up.
“why did you stay on the phone with him?” you asked softly.
“tch.” bakugou scoffs, meeting your gaze. his eyes are more of a gentle hue. “‘cause you’re mine. what, i can’t make it known?”
“katsuki.” you giggle. “did you get jealous?”
his face puffs out in embarrassment. “fuck off. who said anything about jealous?”
“nobody. my lips are sealed.” you smile.
“tch.” he leans over to kiss your forehead. “i love ya. brat.”
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summary: magician!izuku x f!reader who gets caught up in his charm
warning/s: smut, mdni, 18+, p in v, vaginal sex, soft dom!izuku, switch!reader, riding, making out, teasing, praising, swearing
w/c: 3.2k~
The low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filled The Wandering Ace, a narrow bar tucked between a laundromat and a closed record store. The kind of place that smelled like spilled beer and good whiskey, where the lighting was just dim enough to make everyone look interesting. Izuku Midoriya had been performing here on and off for a few months—nothing official, just a standing agreement with the owner for a cut of the night's tips and free drinks. It kept his skills sharp between bigger gigs.
He worked a small high-top table near the back, sleeves rolled up on his black button-down, a simple deck of cards in his hands. No cape, no dramatic music. Just him and the quiet confidence of someone who had spent thousands of hours making the impossible look effortless.
“Pick any three,” he told the group clustered around him, fanning the deck. A guy in a flannel shirt pulled cards, showed them around, then slid them back. Izuku shuffled once, twice—clean, fluid motions—then spread the deck face-down across the table. “Now, tell me which one feels right.” He tapped the correct cards out one by one without looking, each reveal earning a mix of laughs and impressed murmurs.
He followed it with a quick coin vanish, making quarters dance across his knuckles before they disappeared into thin air, only to reappear behind a woman’s ear. His patter was easy, a little cocky. “I’m not saying it’s magic. I’m just saying your eyes are doing most of the work here.”
Then his gaze lifted and locked onto yours.
You were at the bar, elbow resting on the polished wood, half-turned to watch him. Whiskey sour in hand, expression openly curious rather than politely amused like most of the crowd. The eye contact held. Izuku’s rhythm faltered for the briefest moment—the coin he’d been vanishing slipped from his palm and clattered onto the table. He recovered with a quick grin and a self-deprecating shrug, but the flush on the back of his neck was new.
The set wrapped ten minutes later. Applause scattered, people drifting back to their conversations or ordering another round. Izuku packed his deck and a few small props into a slim leather case, exchanged a few words with the bartender, then walked straight over.
He slid onto the stool next to you like he belonged there. Up close he smelled faintly of chalk and something clean, like cedar. Freckles stood out across his nose and cheeks under the bar lights. Lean arms, strong hands. The kind of build that came from practicing sleight of hand for hours and hauling gear around the city.
“Mind company?” he asked, voice carrying that same easy confidence from the performance, edged with something drier. “Or should I pretend I didn’t just eat shit on a basic vanish because of you?”
You smiled, turning fully toward him. “Because of me? Bold assumption, magician.”
“Izuku,” he supplied, signaling the bartender for a whiskey neat. “And yeah. I’ve run that bit sober, drunk, and half-asleep. One look from you and my hands forget how gravity works.” He said it with a small, cocky tilt to his mouth, but his eyes were sharper, studying your reaction like you were a new trick he wanted to figure out.
You gave him your name. Conversation started simple—how long he’d been doing this, the weirdest gig he’d ever had (a bachelor party where the groom kept trying to guess every card wrong on purpose). He was good at listening, nodding along, but every so often he’d interject with a dry, sassy remark that made you laugh.
“Another trick?” he offered after the first drinks settled. He pulled the deck out again, shuffling it one-handed with casual arrogance. “Pick one. Don’t show me.”
You did. He fanned the cards, then paused when you leaned in closer and murmured, “You’ve got steady hands for someone who just admitted I threw him off his game.”
The shuffle hitched. A card slipped. Izuku caught it smoothly enough, but the smirk he shot you was half-annoyed, half-impressed. “Keep that up and I’m charging you for private lessons.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or an offer?”
“Both,” he said, voice dropping. He found your card anyway—the Queen of Hearts—and set it down between you with a flick of his wrist. “Fitting.”
The flirting built naturally from there, never tipping into anything forced. You teased him about the nerdy way his eyes lit up when he explained the mechanical difference between a classic force and a riffle force. He fired back by asking if you always stared at performers like you were trying to see through every move, then demonstrated a more complex flourish just to watch your reaction. When you rested your hand lightly on his forearm while laughing at one of his self-deprecating stories about bombing a kid’s birthday party, he stumbled over his next sentence.
“Shit,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The cocky mask slipped, showing the guy who probably practiced in front of a mirror until 3 a.m. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“Maybe,” you admitted, letting your fingers linger. “It’s cute when the unflappable magician glitches.”
He ordered another round. The bar thinned out around you. Conversation moved from tricks to real life—how he balanced performing with a day job doing close-up magic at corporate events, the way he still got a rush from figuring out new illusions. You shared enough to keep it even. He listened without interrupting, green eyes steady, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic quip that kept things light.
At some point his knee pressed against yours under the bar. Neither of you moved it away.
Eventually the bartender started giving last-call signals. Izuku glanced at you, expression more open now. “My apartment’s a disaster—props everywhere, half-finished routines on the coffee table. Yours?”
You didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”
The cab ride was quiet but heavy. Izuku’s hand rested on your thigh again, thumb stroking slow circles through your clothes. Every so often he’d lean over and kiss the side of your neck, nothing rushed, just enough to keep the tension simmering. When you turned and nipped at his jaw, he exhaled sharply.
“Careful,” he warned, voice low. “I’m trying to behave until we’re off the street.”
You slid your hand higher up his leg. “Behaving looks boring on you.”
He laughed under his breath, the sound rough. “You have no idea.”
Your apartment door shut with a decisive click. Izuku didn’t waste time. He backed you against the wall in the entryway, mouth on yours—hot, focused, skilled. One hand braced beside your head, the other sliding under your shirt, palm warm against your skin. He kissed like he performed: deliberate, attentive to every response, adjusting when you made a small sound he liked.
Clothes came off in pieces between the hallway and bedroom. His shirt hit the floor first, revealing the lean muscle and scatter of freckles. You pushed him toward the bed when you reached it. He went willingly, sitting on the edge and pulling you between his legs.
“Bossy,” he murmured against your stomach, kissing lower as he helped peel the rest of your clothes away. There was that cocky edge again, but it softened when he looked up at you, eyes dark. “I like it.”
You climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His cock was hard, pressed between you. Izuku’s hands settled on your hips, grip firm but not controlling. Soft dom energy—guiding with praise and pressure rather than force. “Take what you want,” he said quietly, voice already rough. “I want to watch you.”
You reached between you, stroking him slowly. He hissed, hips twitching. When you positioned yourself and sank down inch by inch, his head fell back, throat working. “Fuck… you feel good. Slow—yeah, like that.”
The stretch was excellent. You settled fully, pausing to adjust, then started rolling your hips in a lazy rhythm. Izuku’s hands flexed on your thighs, thumbs stroking encouragingly. He tried to thrust up once, instinctive, and you pinned his shoulders lightly, grinding down harder.
“Stay,” you told him, teasing. “Let me.”
A soft groan escaped him. “Evil. Absolutely evil.” But he obeyed, letting you set the pace, eyes fixed on where you were joined. Every time you clenched around him or changed the angle, his breath caught. The sassy comments came between gasps—“You’re enjoying this too much”—but they dissolved into low moans when you rode him deeper.
You leaned forward, changing the angle, mouth against his ear. “Look at you. All that card-shuffling talent and you’re falling apart under me.”
Izuku’s laugh was breathless. “Keep talking and this ends embarrassingly fast.” His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer so your chests pressed together. He kissed you messily, tongue and teeth, while you kept moving. The friction built steadily, heat coiling tight.
You straightened again, hands braced on his chest, riding him harder. His hips jerked involuntarily, chasing the sensation, but he didn’t take over. Just watched you with that intense, focused stare, freckled cheeks flushed, hair sticking to his forehead. When you reached down to touch yourself, his gaze followed, lips parting.
“That’s it,” he encouraged, voice hoarse. Soft dominance wrapped in surrender. “Let me feel you come. Please.”
The please did it. Pleasure hit hard, pulsing through you as you clenched around him. Izuku cursed, hips snapping up once, twice, then he was coming too—deep, shuddering, arms wrapping tight around your waist to hold you down on him while he spilled.
You both stayed like that for a long minute, breathing hard. Eventually he eased you down beside him, pulling the covers over you both. His fingers traced idle patterns on your arm—the same muscle memory he used for flourishes.
“Not bad for a guy who dropped a coin earlier,” you said, amused.
Izuku snorted. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll show you what steady hands can really do.” He kissed your shoulder, the gesture casual but lingering. “Though I might need you to tie me up next time so I don’t try to take over. You’re distracting as hell.”
The night stretched. A second round came slower, lazier. He went down on you with the same focused dedication he gave his tricks—mapping every reaction, adjusting pressure and rhythm until you were gripping his hair and shaking. Then you rode him again, teasing him until he was babbling quiet praises mixed with sarcastic little jabs about how unfair you were.
By the time exhaustion won, you were curled against his side, his arm around you. No grand declarations. Just the quiet understanding that this felt easy. Real.
In the morning, Izuku woke first. You found him in your kitchen, shirtless in last night’s pants, attempting to make coffee with the same precision he used on stage. He glanced over when you appeared, that cocky little smirk returning.
“Morning. I didn’t disappear overnight. Consider it a miracle.” He handed you a mug, then leaned against the counter, watching you. “So. Next time I’m performing, you coming to watch? Or are you just going to keep ruining my routines from the audience?”
You took a sip, smiling over the rim. “Depends. Think you can handle the distraction?”
Izuku stepped closer, crowding you gently against the counter. His voice dropped, sassy and warm. “I’m counting on it.”
A/N: I genuinely think that as a kid who didn't have any trainog to do in middle school cause he was quirkless so he learned magic tricks and cards
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
warning/s: teasing, smut, mdni, 18+, p in v, praise, condescension, cunnilingus, making out, all dem
w/c: 1k~
rock climber!yuuji who always shows up to your climbing sessions with that cocky little smirk, chalk already dusting his hands, and immediately starts teasing you about your form. “Babe, if you keep gripping like that you’re gonna tire out before the crux,” he says, but then he’s behind you in a second, warm calloused palms adjusting your hips with surprising gentleness. He makes it fun, turning every failed attempt into laughter and stupid bets—like loser buys lunch—and somehow you always end up winning because he “mysteriously” slips on the easiest hold just to watch you celebrate.
rock climber!yuuji who drags you on sunrise hikes to remote crags, backpack full of snacks he packed himself because “you get hangry and it kinda ruins the mood.” He’s sassy when you complain about the early start, throwing a “aww my girl needs her beauty sleep?” over his shoulder, but the second you reach the top he pulls you into his chest, sweaty and sun-warmed, pressing quiet kisses to your temple while you both watch the light hit the rocks. His charm is effortless; he’ll whisper how proud he is of you for pushing through, voice low and sincere, making your heart do stupid flips.
rock climber!yuuji who turns every rest day into an excuse to spoil you. He’ll show up at your door with takeout and a new pair of shoes he “just happened to find on sale,” then bully you into letting him massage your sore forearms. His fingers are strong but playful, thumbs digging in just right while he cracks jokes about how you’re the only one who can keep up with his endless energy. The sass comes out when you try to return the favor: “Careful honey, I WILL take us on another long route in the ass crack of dawn."
rock climber!yuuji who’s ridiculously competitive during partner climbing drills but folds instantly if you flash him that smile. He’ll trash-talk the entire route—“This slab is nothing, I could do it one-handed”—then catch you when you slip, arms wrapping tight around your waist as he laughs into your neck. The charm hits when he admits, cheeks a little pink under the chalk, that he loves how you challenge him right back. No corny lines, just genuine, easy affection that feels like home after a long day on the wall.
rock climber!yuuji who leaves little notes in your gym bag—sassy chibis of himself flexing next to encouraging messages like “crush it today or I'll tell Fushiguro you wanna do his workout with him ^_^.” He remembers every tiny detail about your climbing style, your favorite routes, even the playlists that get you in the zone. When you’re feeling frustrated with a project, he pulls you aside, voice warm and teasing: “You’ve got this. I’ve got you. Quick kiss, then get back to it. I know you got it hon.”
rock climber!yuuji who comes home from a hard session still buzzing with adrenaline, muscles pumped and skin flushed, and immediately presses you against the door for a deep, hungry kiss. His hands roam with that same confident grip he uses on holds—strong, sure, a little possessive—as he murmurs against your lips, “Missed you s'much, baby.” He’s sassy even here, nipping your jaw and chuckling when you shiver: “Already? I haven’t even gotten my shoes off yet.”
rock climber!yuuji who loves taking you in the shower after long outdoor days, water cascading over his broad shoulders while he lifts you effortlessly against the tiles. His stamina is insane; he’ll edge you with slow, rolling thrusts, grinning that charming, shit-eating grin when you beg. “What happened to my tough climber girl? Can’t handle it?” But the second you clench around him he loses the sass, groaning your name like a prayer, hips snapping harder as he chases both your highs. "J-jesus- atta girl-"
rock climber!yuuji who gets playfully competitive even in bed, turning foreplay into a game—who can make the other moan louder first. He’s surprisingly fluffy about it too, laughing breathlessly when you tug his hair, then switching to sweet, filthy praise as he goes down on you: “Fuck, you taste so good…mm- that’s it, juuust like that.” His fingers are rough from years of climbing but he uses them with devastating precision, curling just right while watching your face like it’s the sea and the stars.
rock climber!yuuji who loves lazy morning sex after rest days, sunlight filtering in as he spoons you from behind, sliding in slow and deep with sleepy, affectionate grunts. He’s charmingly vocal—whispering how perfect you feel, how he could stay buried in you all day—mixing in sassy little comments when you push back against him: “Greedy this morning, huh? Good thing I’ve got all this stamina. Cmon pretty girl- just one more-” His hand slips between your legs, working you until you’re trembling, then he follows right after with a low, satisfied curse against your shoulder.
rock climber!yuuji who, after an intense session on the wall, fucks you with that same focused intensity he saves for projects—pinning your wrists above your head, hips grinding deep and relentless while he kisses you sloppy and sweet. He’s funny even mid-thrust, cracking a breathless joke about “sending this route” before his voice drops into pure heat, telling you how hot you look falling apart for him. When you both finish he pulls you close, sweaty and glowing, pressing lazy kisses everywhere and murmuring how you’re his favorite climb, every single time.
A/N: mmmphh~ rock climber!yuujiiiii 🤤 (desire intensifiesss) 🤤🤤🤤
omg I love ur guys' reqs and beautiful ideas sooo much! I'm sorry its taking me so long to write, I've just been sooo busy and I'm needing some breaks, but I'm trying to get back into it.
i'm not going to be writing for MHA or class 1-A as much anymore, but not completely stopping! I'm going to focus my writing on JJK characters now but will deffff take MHA reqs.
i do wanna set some rulez tho, please please please consider how long reqs are. I do love when they are specific and you guys have amazingggg minds, but shorter reqs are better for me to write for because longer ones are kinda stressful!!
love y'all and thanks sooo much for supporting the blog!!!
Hello! Not sure how this idea would go but what about a thing with class 1-a like reader wakes up from one day and all of a sudden she like can't use her quirk..like it's just gone temporarily? She doesn't wanna tell anyone during training and stuff and gets hurt cause she can't defend herself. You can like pick the reason that it's gone 🥹
༉‧₊˚. summary: this ask basically (yes I'm getting lazier)
༉‧₊˚. warning/s: none! fluff
༉‧₊˚. w/c: 3.2k~
The first sign was the silence.
It wasn't a literal silence, of course. The dorms of Class 1-A were never truly silent. There was the distant thud of a weight set in Kirishima’s room, the faint, tinny sound of Kaminari’s terrible music, and the ever-present hum of the building itself. No, this was a different kind of quiet. It was the absence of a familiar, internal hum, the low-grade thrum of energy that had been a constant in the back of your mind since you were four. It was like waking up to find you’d gone deaf in one ear; the world seemed off-balance, muffled.
You sat up in bed, your heart starting a frantic, clumsy rhythm against your ribs. You flexed your fingers, a gesture so ingrained it was second nature, and tried to summon it. The familiar tingle, the faint shimmer of heat that should have bloomed at your fingertips… nothing. Just skin. Just bone.
Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through you. You tried again, closing your eyes, focusing with an intensity that made your head ache. Come on. Come on. You pictured the energy, the way it coalesced from the air, from your own life force, into something tangible and usable. You pictured the small, controlled orb of light you could create to read by. You pictured the defensive shield you could manifest in a split second.
There was nothing.
The silence in your own head was deafening.
"Fuck," you whispered to the empty room. It was a small, pathetic sound.
The day spiraled from there. You went through the motions of getting ready, your body moving on autopilot while your mind raced, cataloging possibilities. A side effect of a new medication? Stress? Some kind of bizarre, quirk-dampening cold? You’d never heard of a quirk just… disappearing. It was supposed to be a part of you, like your eye color or the shape of your hands. It didn't just get up and leave.
By the time you made it to the common room, you’d constructed a fragile wall of denial around the hollow space inside you. You’d just be careful today. Lay low. No one would have to know.
"Morning!" Ochaco chirped from the couch, where she was nursing a cup of tea and scrolling through her phone. "You look like you wrestled a bear and lost."
"Thanks for the glowing review, Uraraka," you muttered, grabbing a piece of toast from the rack. "I just slept weird."
Mina, who was attempting to braid Kaminari’s hair with limited success, grinned at you. "Or maybe you're having a premonition about today's training. Aizawa-sensei looked extra murderous this morning."
You forced a laugh that felt like sandpaper in your throat. "I'll be sure to stay on his good side, then."
Aizawa’s "good side" was a mythical concept, and you all knew it. The morning training session was a brutal exercise in controlled chaos. The class was split into teams of two, pitted against each other in a series of close-quarters combat drills. The goal was to pin your opponent or force them out of the designated ring. It was simple, fast-paced, and, on a normal day, your kind of fun.
Today, it was a special kind of hell.
You were paired with Sero against Bakugou and Todoroki. A classic matchup of raw power versus tactical support. On a good day, you and Sero were a formidable team. His tape could immobilize, your energy blasts could disorient and defend. You’d often managed to hold your own, sometimes even win, against the two powerhouses.
"Alright, you know the plan," Sero said, giving you a confident thumbs-up as you took your positions. "I'll try and wrap up Sparky, you create a distraction and keep Icy-Hot on his toes. We got this."
"Got it," you said, your voice tight. You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring nod, your mind scrambling. A distraction. Right. A distraction that required a quirk you didn't have.
Aizawa blew his whistle. The world erupted.
Bakugou was a missile of explosions and fury, aimed directly at Sero. You saw a flash of red and white as Todoroki skated to the side, his left hand already encased in ice. He was coming for you. Your plan was to create a concussive blast of energy to throw him off balance, giving Sero an opening.
You planted your feet, raised your hands, and pushed.
Nothing.
A pathetic little puff of air, maybe. A flicker of static that was more embarrassment than energy. Todoroki didn't even break stride. He just looked at you, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing in confusion.
"Your quirk?" he asked, his voice as flat as the ice he was now summoning towards your feet.
"Trying a new technique!" you yelled, diving to the side. The ice cracked where you’d been standing, a jagged spear shooting up. You landed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. This was bad. This was so, so bad.
From across the training ground, you heard Bakugou’s furious voice. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, EXTRA? FIGHT BACK!"
You scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting around for an escape. You were a sitting duck. A normal, fragile human in a battlefield of gods. Todoroki was advancing again, this time a wave of fire licking from his right hand. You were trapped between the proverbial rock and a hard place.
Sero, seeing your predicament, launched a wide arc of tape, aiming for Todoroki's arm. "Get out of there!" he yelled.
Todoroki easily dodged the tape, his attention momentarily divided. It was the only opening you were going to get. You didn't have a quirk, but you still had legs. You turned and ran, not towards the boundary line, but directly at Bakugou.
It was a stupid, insane move. He was so focused on Sero that he didn't see you coming until the last second. You slammed into his side, a purely physical, desperate tackle. It was like hitting a brick wall. He grunted in surprise, more than pain, stumbling back a step.
"The fuck?" he snarled, his hand sparking threateningly.
You didn't wait for an answer. You just kept running, putting as much distance as you could between you and the two boys. You could hear Aizawa's flat, disappointed voice call, "Time out."
You stopped, bending over and gasping for breath, your hands on your knees. You hadn't been pinned, but you'd failed. Spectacularly. Your team had lost.
The walk back to the locker rooms was thick with unspoken questions. You could feel their eyes on you—Sero's concerned, Bakugou's furious, Todoroki's analytical. You kept your head down, ignoring them all.
"What was that?" Sero asked the moment the locker room door swung shut. "That new technique of yours… needs some work."
"I'm fine," you said, your voice muffled by the locker door you were staring at. "Just an off day."
"An off day?" It was Bakugou, his voice dangerously low. He was leaning against the opposite bank of lockers, arms crossed, a towel slung over his shoulder. "You didn't use your quirk once. Not once. You ran away. You don't have 'off days' like that. You either fight or you're a coward. So which is it?"
Your head snapped up, anger overriding your fear. "Back off, Bakugou. Not everything is about throwing the biggest explosion."
"It is when you're in a fight!" he shot back, pushing off the lockers. "You were useless out there. Sero could've gotten hurt because you decided to play tag."
"He's right," Todoroki’s quiet voice cut through the tension. He was standing by his own locker, already changed. "Your strategy was illogical. It put both you and your partner at unnecessary risk."
The three of them were staring at you, a united front of judgment. Your carefully constructed wall of denial was crumbling, and the panic was flooding back in.
"I said I'm fine!" you snapped, your voice cracking. You grabbed your bag and shoved past them, storming out of the locker room without another word.
You managed to avoid everyone for the rest of the day. You skipped lunch, claiming you had a headache, and spent the afternoon in the library, pretending to study. But the words of your classmates echoed in your head. Useless. Coward. Illogical. They weren't wrong. You had been useless. And the worst part was, you didn't know why.
That evening, as you sat on your bed staring at your hands, a knock came at your door. You ignored it. It was probably Mina or Ochaco, coming to check on you. You couldn't face their well-meaning concern.
The knock came again, more insistent this time. "Go away," you called out.
The door handle turned. The door swung open. It wasn't Mina or Ochaco. It was Iida, standing ramrod straight in the doorway, with Ochaco and Mina peeking out from behind him like concerned meerkats.
"We are coming in," Iida announced, as if it were a formal decree. "Your behavior has been erratic all day, and as class president, it is my duty to ensure the well-being of my classmates."
You groaned, flopping back onto your bed and throwing an arm over your eyes. "Of course it is. Come on in, then. Don't want to be derelict in your duty."
Iida strode in, his posture so rigid it looked painful. Mina and Ochaco followed, their expressions a mixture of worry and determination. Mina closed the door softly behind them, and the small click of the latch sounded like a prison door sealing.
"We're worried about you," Ochaco said, her voice gentle as she perched on the edge of your desk. "You didn't eat lunch, and you totally bailed on training. That's not like you."
"Yeah, you looked like you'd seen a ghost," Mina added, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Or like Aizawa-sensei cancelled training for a week. You know, really pale."
"I'm just tired," you lied, the words feeling flimsy and pathetic even to your own ears. "It's been a long week."
Iida pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes narrowing. "That is a demonstrably false statement. Your performance this morning was not indicative of fatigue. It was indicative of a complete inability to utilize your quirk. Furthermore, your tactical decisions were illogical and self-endangering. Please explain yourself."
There it was. The cold, hard logic, delivered with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. You could handle Bakugou's explosive anger; you could even handle Todoroki's quiet analysis. But Iida's earnest, fact-based concern was harder to deflect. He wasn't attacking you; he was trying to solve you, and you were a puzzle with all the wrong pieces.
You sat up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "Maybe I just had a bad day, Iida. Is that a crime?"
"No," he said, his tone softening slightly. "But a 'bad day' for a hero-in-training can have serious consequences. We are a team. We need to be able to rely on each other. If something is wrong, if you are compromised, you need to tell us."
His words hit you with the force of a physical blow. He was right. Of course he was right. This wasn't just about you; it was about all of them. Your inability to perform, your pride, your stupid, fragile denial—it could get one of them hurt. It could get you killed.
You looked at their faces. At Iida's unwavering sense of duty, at Ochaco's open-hearted concern, at Mina's fierce loyalty. They were your friends. Your family. And you were lying to them.
The wall you'd built around the hollow space inside you finally crumbled into dust. You took a shaky breath, the admission tasting like ash in your mouth.
"It's gone," you said, your voice barely a whisper.
Mina tilted her head. "What's gone?"
"My quirk," you said, the words louder this time, more certain. "I woke up this morning, and it was just… gone. I can't feel it. I can't use it. It's just… silent."
The silence that followed your confession was heavier than any you'd felt that morning. It was a silence of shock, of disbelief. Ochaco's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide. Mina just stared, her usual bubbly energy completely absent.
"That's… that's impossible," Iida stammered, his composure finally cracking. "Quirks don't just… disappear. There must be a logical explanation. A villain with a nullification ability? A delayed reaction to a substance?"
"I don't think so," you said, shaking your head. "I feel fine. Physically. I just… can't do anything. I tried this morning. I've been trying all day. There's nothing."
"God, that's… that's terrifying," Ochaco breathed, moving from the desk to sit beside you on the bed. She didn't touch you, but her presence was a warm, comforting weight. "No wonder you were a mess at training. You were fighting Todoroki with… with nothing?"
You nodded, your throat tight. "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to tell anyone. I thought it would come back."
"You idiot," Mina said, but there was no malice in her voice, only a profound, aching concern. "You could have been seriously hurt. Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I'm scared," you admitted, the words tearing out of you. "I'm scared that it's not coming back. What if it's not temporary? What if I'm just… normal now? What am I if I'm not a hero? What good am I to any of you?"
Your voice broke on the last word, and you hated it. You hated the weakness, the vulnerability. You were supposed to be strong, witty, capable. Not this… this empty, terrified thing.
Before anyone could respond, the door to your room slid open again. This time it was Bakugou, his usual scowl firmly in place. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes sweeping over the assembled group.
"What the hell is this? A fucking pity party?" he growled. "I knew something was wrong with you today. You were holding back."
"Go away, Bakugou," Mina snapped, her protective hackles raised. "This isn't the time."
But you were done hiding. You were done pretending. You looked up at him, meeting his fiery gaze with a defiance you didn't feel. "You're right. I was holding back. Because my quirk is gone."
The blunt confession seemed to catch him off guard. His scorching red eyes widened almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightening. He stared at you, his expression a complex mix of shock and something else… something that looked almost like understanding.
"What?" he bit out, his voice low and dangerous.
"You heard me," you said, your voice shaking but steady. "It's gone. So you can go now. You got your answer."
He didn't leave. He just stood there, his eyes boring into you, his mind clearly working. You expected him to laugh, to call you a useless liability, to storm off in a cloud of frustration and contempt. That's what you would have done, in his place.
Instead, he took a step into the room, his presence filling the small space. "Bullshit," he said, but it lacked his usual venom. "Quirks don't just fucking vanish."
"That's what I said," Iida put in, though he looked uncertainly at Bakugou, as if surprised to be on the same side.
"Did you hit your head?" Bakugou asked, his gaze fixed on you. "Get hit with some kind of weird gas? Think."
"I've been thinking all day!" you shot back, your frustration boiling over. "I don't know what happened! I just know that when I tried to blast Todoroki's stupid face, all I managed was a fart in the wind!"
A strange, choked sound came from Bakugou's throat. It took you a second to realize it was a laugh. A short, sharp, almost sarcastic laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.
"Figures," he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "The one time you actually aim for him, and your quirk decides to take a vacation."
You stared at him, completely bewildered. This was not the reaction you had anticipated. There was no pity, no scorn, just… his usual abrasive self, but with a strange, underlying current of something you couldn't quite place.
"So what's the plan?" he asked, his tone all business. "You just gonna sit here and mope about it?"
"What do you want me to do, Bakugou? Go to Recovery Girl? 'Hi, sorry to bother you, but I seem to have misplaced my superpowers. Any idea where they might be?'"
"It's a start," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself isn't gonna do shit. You need to figure out what's wrong. And until you do, you need to learn how to fight without it."
His words were harsh, but they were also… right. They were a kick in the teeth you desperately needed. He wasn't treating you like you were broken. He was treating you like you were a problem to be solved. And that, more than anything, made you feel like you might actually be able to fix this.
"You'd help me with that?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.
He snorted. "Don't get your hopes up. I just don't want to have to carry your useless ass during a real fight because you can't be bothered to learn how to throw a punch. We'll start tomorrow. 5 a.m. Don't be late."
And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him. The room was silent for a moment, everyone processing what had just happened.
"Well," Mina said, a slow grin spreading across her face. "That was the most romantic, condescending offer of help I've ever seen."
You couldn't help it. You laughed. A real, genuine laugh that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside you, chasing away the last of the cold, silent fear. It wasn't fixed. You were still quirkless. But for the first time all day, you didn't feel alone.
"Okay," you said, looking at your friends, at the open door, at the future that was suddenly, terrifyingly, and maybe a little bit excitingly, unknown.
A/N: I hope y'all are reading this A/N!! I'm no longer going to be writing for MHA as much, but I'll take SOME asks!
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pup!reader waiting so eagerly for izuku to come home only for him to tease and edge her while grading papers, I love condescending izuku 😵💫😵💫
Pup!reader who waits by the door the moment she hears his key in the lock, tail thumping a frantic rhythm against the hardwood floor. She's been good all day, she swears. She didn't even chew on his favorite slipper, even though the temptation was immense. She just wants her owner's attention.
Pup!reader who launches herself at him the second he's through the door, burying her nose in his work-smelling clothes and whimpering softly when he just chuckles and ruffles her hair, instead of giving her the proper greeting hug she craves. "Easy there, hon. Miss me that much?" he asks, his voice already holding that familiar, patronizing lilt that makes her stomach clench.
Pup!reader who follows him like a shadow, her leash dragging on the floor behind her, as he shrugs off his hero gear and makes his way to the dining table. He has a stack of student essays to grade, and he just pats her head absently. "Not right now, pup. I have work to do."
Pup!reader who whines and nudges his hand with her wet nose, trying to get him to pet her properly, to look at her. He finally sighs, a long-suffering sound, and looks down at her. "You're just a needy little thing, aren't you? Can't even let me work for five minutes." But his eyes are sparkling with amusement.
Pup!reader who gets rewarded for her persistence when he pulls her onto his lap. She wiggles with delight, thinking this is it, this is the attention she's been waiting for. But he just settles her against his thigh, one strong arm wrapped around her waist to keep her still, and picks up his red pen.
Pup!reader who feels a jolt go through her when his free hand starts to wander, tracing patterns on her inner thigh. "So fidgety," he murmurs, not even looking at her, his eyes fixed on the paper in front of him. "Can't you sit still for one second?"
Pup!reader who bites her lip to keep from moaning when his fingers finally dip beneath the hem of her shorts, teasing her slick folds. He circles her clit with maddeningly light pressure, just enough to make her hips jerk, before pulling away completely.
Pup!reader who lets out a frustrated whine, her ears flattening against her head. "Ah, ah," he tuts, finally glancing down at her. "No sounds. You wanted my attention, you got it. Don't be greedy." He goes back to grading as if nothing happened.
Pup!reader who endures this torture for what feels like an eternity. Every few minutes, his hand will return, building her up with expert touches, only to leave her hanging right on the edge, dripping and desperate. He'll make condescending comments the whole time. "My, my, someone's eager, aren't they?" or "Look at that, you're soaking through your shorts. What a messy puppy."
Pup!reader who's practically crying with need by the time he finally puts the last graded paper in the 'done' pile. She's a trembling, whimpering mess in his lap. He finally looks at her, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face.
Pup!reader who feels a surge of hope when he scoops her up and carries her to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, his green eyes dark with satisfaction. "You've been such a patient girl, waiting for me to finish. I think you've earned a reward."
Pup!reader who finally gets what she's been craving all day, but not before he makes her beg for it. "Use your words, puppy. Tell me what you want." And when she finally chokes out a desperate "please, izuu," he rewards her with a devastatingly deep kiss and the promise that he'll take care of his good girl, finally.
