rocketlvr

“ah,” you tsk verbally. your back meets wood as you let out an exasperated sigh, the library chair under you creaking. “man, why is sign so hard?”

“it’s not hard,” katsuki consoles with a small shrug, careful not to sound dismissive. he reaches over to pluck a bit of lint from your shoulder. “it just takes some time. you’re learning pretty well.”

“it makes me feel stupid,” you grumble.

he gives his teeth a suck, the sharp sound making his feelings about you putting yourself down clear before his words do. “you're not stupid. don't say shit like that.” when the pout still lingers on your lips, he decides to distract you, signing again. “do you want to head back to your place first to change before our date?”

you give him a nod, the idea of wearing something nice making you feel a little better. “the sign for dating is cute,” you murmur aloud, forming two lowercase d’s with your hands and tapping your fingertips together. “it's like the sign for kiss.”

“it's like the sign for meet and ‘d,” katsuki explains, rolling his eyes in fondness while adjusting the volume on his hearing aid to catch your quiet mumbling. “not kiss.”

“is it?” you ask, tilting your head confusedly. “it looks nothing like it.” making your hands into two peace signs, your hands meet again in a similar motion.

katsuki’s eyes narrow slightly at your sign of “meet.” “do you know what that means?” he asks in sign.

did you do the wrong sign? why is he reacting like that? you shake your head, signing back “what?” to him. “is it not 'meet?”

the laugh that bursts out of him only serves to add to the burn spreading across your cheeks, and you can't help but feel even more stupid than before. “katsuki, what is it?” you ask using voice, glad the two of you were alone in a reserved study room, “can you stop laughing? is it bad?”

“it's not bad,” he says at last, mirth still curling his lips, “well, it depends on who you ask.”

“well, i'm asking you,” you huff, “can’t you just tell me? did i just accidentally cuss you out or something?”

"no no," he assures, pulling your seat closer to his, “it's actually something we should do after the movie.”

“what? what the hell does that mean?”

with another quiet chuckle, he lifts up his hand and carefully fingerspells it for you, making sure that his production was slow enough to ensure you could catch every single letter.

“f-u-c-k.”

“no!” in an instant, your hands attempt to scramble downwards, “don’t fuck my pussy—”

“no?” he laughs, quick to capture your wrists in a singular grip. he slides his heavy cock down towards your weeping slit. “you don’t wanna be the one pregnant or something?”

“no— of course not!”

“why not?” he asks innocently, before dropping his voice to a low whisper, “don’t you think you’d be a great mommy? or are you nervous about what your alpha friends would say if you got pregnant by an omega?”

you don’t answer right away, afraid of admitting to what he is suggesting. “i… i don’t...”

alas, izuku smiles, already knowing your response. he pulls back slightly, his nose brushing against your cheek as his breath grazes against the shell of your ear. “well, what would you say if i let you mark me?”

mate. mate. mate. almost helplessly, your eyes dart to his now vulnerable nape, the tantalizing sight doing all but nothing to the stoke the hungry flames growing in your core. “… i… really?”

“yeah, really,” he muses warmly, “doesn’t that sound good? don’t you wanna sink your teeth into my neck?”

“i…” you swallow thickly, nodding— drooling, “yeah…”

a pleased chuckle rumbled from his throat, the pieces of a plan just about to click into place. “mhm. all you have to do is beg alpha to fuck you. so, what's the magic word?”

your face burns with embarrassment. “please...”

“please, what?”

you hesitate, taking a moment before choking out the words. “please, a-alpha...”

“hehe~” he giggles some more, the fleshy head of his cock pressing insistently against your barrier of resistance now, “goooood omega. deep breaths now, okay?”

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You sit on the counter bored, swinging your legs, purposefully bumping them into his and pouting, trying to guilt him into letting you do more.

Hes so engrossed in mixing he doesnt even notice your pout.

You use your foot and slowly drive his shirt up, exposing his v-line and a bit of his stomach.

"lemme focus..." he murmurs, using his elbow to gently push you away.

you dramatically groan and nudge him with your foot, he chuckles lightly, almost losing his grip on the spoon.

when he readjusts his hand, some of the batter get on his fingers.

"why dont you mix with your other hand?" You start,

"So you dont get the spoon any dirtier, ill grab you a towel." you grin.

He nods and fumbles for a moment before successfully switching hands. Eagerly, you take his hand and bring them to your lips, slowly flicking your tongue out and dragging it across the length of them.

Putting on a show of half lidded eyes and a small moan escaping your lips, he was trying to ignore your antics but when he heard you moan its like his mind went blank.

He looks up at you with a shocked expression, his eyes follow your tongue, slowly gliding over each finger licking up the batter. He gasps when he watches you take his middle and ring finger into your mouth, giving him big doe eyes while sucking on them.

he briefly looks back at the bowl, then at you, clearly deciding what can wait, you think he's going to ignore you again when his other hand reaches for the draw.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth and scoff, a little irritated, but when he pulls out saran wrap and starts hastily putting it over the bowl and grin breaks out on your face.

"What?" His voice sounds small, pink coats his cheeks.

If you could see his lower half that disappears behind the counter you would see his raging erection too.

"nothing!" You giggle, watching his messily push things to the side.

When the counter is clear he pulls you in front of him, pushing your legs open and closing the gap, his lips collide with yours, messy and hungry.

Your hands quickly tangle into his hair, tugging lightly making him moan into your mouth.

He drags you off of the counter, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling how hard he is you gasp, rolling your hips against him desperately.

you break the kiss to look where he was bringing you as he sets off towards the bedroom.

He wastes no time in pulling your shirt above your head once you've hit the bed.

It was definitely a romantic evening.

“What are you saying… that the Tentiplicity kidnapped you from the battle, shot you up with a quirk-stifling drug, but instead of killing you or holding you for ransom, she brought you home while you were unconscious and completely vulnerable, tended to your injuries, and then left without a word? Kacchan, that doesn’t make sense.” Izuku huffs into the phone, brows furrowed as he racks his gargantuan brain for a more feasible explanation than the one his friend is providing. 

“It’s the truth! What am I, a fuckin’ octopus expert? I can’t explain why she did what she did, I just know that she did ‘em! Stop fuckin’ questioning me.” The explosive blonde snarls. The few frantic octaves that Kacchan’s voice pitches up from his usual low rumble tell Izuku that he might not be getting the whole, unaltered truth. He’s known the blond long enough to pick up on when he’s spewing bullshit. 

“But why would she do that? Why would she just… let you go?” Izuku presses, pacing his bedroom as Kacchan groans in annoyance and frustration. “It doesn’t make sense for a villain of her caliber to get her hands on a pro-hero and then do… nothing.” 

“You callin’ me a fuckin’ liar or something?!” 

“No, no— of course not!” He sighs. No good could come from getting his short-tempered companion any more worked up than he already was, even if it was so obvious that he was keeping a few notes of information to himself. But what could he possibly be keeping from him? What could Tentiplicity have done to make Kacchan, of all people, keep his mouth shut? A few possibilities flood his mind, but they’re so absurd and outlandish that Izuku doesn’t bother entertaining them for more than a few seconds. “I’m just… trying to make sense of it…” 

He glanced at the time on his watch, brows furrowing when he saw it was eight o’clock. 

“But, Kacchan,” he murmurs, chuckling anxiously as he peeks outside his apartment window, “I already agreed to go to dinner with her and she’s picking me up any minute.” 

“You WHAT?! Dinner?! With Tentiplicity?! Are you out of your freaking mind?!” 

“I didn’t know she was Tentiplicity when I agreed!” Izuku sighs, brushing his fingers roughly through his messy curls. He glances at his reflection in the full-length mirror, taking in his tidied appearance: a crisp white button-up that is probably a size or two too small for his muscular body and a pair of sleek black dress pants that hug his upper thighs. They were both oversized when he was sixteen. Guess he packed on a bit of muscle in the past four years. “You’re giving me a bit of a late notice here, Kacchan. If I had known she was a villain, I would have—wait, that’s it!” Izuke gasps.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking because I’m always ahead of you in every way, but tell me anyway.” Kacchan sneers. 

“When will I get a more perfect opportunity to take down Tentiplicity, Kacchan? No other heroes have been able to get their hands on her because she is so under the radar. But she doesn’t know I know who she is, so I have the upper hand! I’ll use this ‘date’ as a guise to arrest her!” Izuku beams at his brilliant idea, newfound excitement flooding his chest at the prospect of taking down another high-profile villain. That would definitely get him some bonus points from All-Might. “I just have to wait for the timing to be right.” 

“Bad idea. Very bad idea. You need to cancel the date. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, Izuku. She’s crazy. A fuckin’ lunatic. Nothings off the table with that freakin’ octo-bitch.” Kacchan hisses, immediately shitting on Izuku’s plan. 

“Hey, it’s a good idea! Just because you couldn’t take her doesn’t mean I can’t.” He grumbles before pale yellow light floods his bedroom window from a car passing by outside. He flinches as his phone dings against his ear, your number flashing across his screen as you text him that you’ve just pulled up. Izuku’s heart thumps nervously against his rib cage. 

“Oh, I took her just fuckin’ fine,” Kacchan says in a low voice, but Izuku is too distracted by the fact that his villainous date is now, as is currently, waiting outside of his apartment complex to pay his friend’s words any mind. 

“Crap. She’s here.” He mutters, mostly to himself. “I’ve gotta go, Kacchan. Wish me luck!” 

“Don’t go on this fuckin’ date, you stupid little—!” Izuku hangs up the phone before the blond can finish insulting him and quickly tucks it in his pocket, scuttling over to straighten himself out in the mirror before making his way out of his apartment, making sure to grab his wallet from the kitchen counter. He might be planning to arrest his date at the end of the night, but first and foremost, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman always pays. 

There’s no denying his buzzing nerves as he steps out into the cool night air, a soft breeze caressing his cheeks that have only recently begun to shed their baby fat. There’s a sleek black car parked at the curb, purring softly. The windows are heavily tinted, but he assumes it must be you. Swallowing down his anxiety, he saunters up to the passenger side window and drums his knuckles gently against the opaque glass. 

The window peels open, and he’s greeted by your playful gaze and grinning lips. For a moment, he forgets you’re a villain. 

“Goddamn…” the word slips out in a breathless whisper, a hot pink blush flushing his cheeks when you giggle, the sound so lovely he thinks he might melt on the spot. No, stop it, he catches himself quickly, she’s a villain who hurts innocent people. Don’t get flustered by her appearance. 

“It’s good to see you again, too, handsome~” you flirt seamlessly, unlocking the door and watching as he timidly slides into the faux leather seat. 

Your eyes slide slowly over his figure, the swells of his chest that seem to strain against the thin fabric with every breath, the narrow curve of his waist hugged by the hem of his dark slacks, which squeeze the muscular flesh of his thighs. The sleeves of his too-tight button-up are rolled up to the junctures of his elbows, showcasing his scarred forearms. Not to mention the rather luxurious-looking gold and black watch wrapped securely around his slim wrist. If he notices your heated stare, he doesn’t mention it. 

Instead, Izuku clears his throat and smiles at you sheepishly. “S- Sorry. You look… really nice.” 

“No apologies necessary.” You wave off his concerns, casting him a look of bashfulness so sweet that it has Izuku second-guessing Kacchan’s claim that you’re capable of being a ruthless criminal. “I’m glad you agreed to come out to dinner with me. I was worried that I was being a little too forward.” 

“N- No! It wasn’t forward at all! I mean— it was forward but not too forward b–because I–I also wanted to… go out… with you.” Izuku sputters clumsily, mentally smacking himself across the face for getting so easily worked up. Your soft peals of laughter only make him feel more embarrassed, but he quickly clears his throat and straightens out his back, refusing to let himself look small in front of you. He is a hero after all. “So, I’m glad you asked me out. Is what I’m trying to say.” 

“You’re cute, Izuku~” you grin, shifting the car into drive and pulling out of the complex. 

Izuku watches his building vanish in the rear-view mirror and suddenly wishes he had insisted more on driving. He swallows back a wave of fresh nerves as he fully grasps his situation. Kacchan wouldn’t lie about you being a villain. Izuku trusts that wholeheartedly. So he knows for sure that he is currently sitting in the car with none other than the villainess Tentiplicity, pretending to be something that she’s not—a sweet, innocent girl. Even if you play the part well, he knows it’s just an act, a disguise. 

He can’t help but wonder why you would ask him out in the first place. You must know he’s a hero, especially considering his ranking on the hero billboard charts. The two of you have never directly fought before. He wasn’t even aware that you were involved with the group of villains trying to rob the bank vaults the other day when Kacchan vanished. You must’ve taken a more stealthy role in that operation, and then snagged the opportunity to take a hero hostage when the operation started falling apart.

But that brings him back to his earlier question: why did you return Katsuki unharmed without even holding him for ransom? It doesn’t make any sense. You must have taken him for a reason. Tentiplicity is cunning, calculating. There’s a reason heroes or authorities have never caught you. Tentiplicity is best known for her involvement in high-profile robberies, whether it be dangerous weapons, massive sums of money, or classified information. You’ve done it all. 

Since you’re a more stealth-oriented criminal, there isn’t too much information about you outside of the fact that you can produce tentacles from your body that can reach up to thirty feet in length. Although unconfirmed, there have been reports of your tentacles being able to produce a paralytic substance absorbed by human skin upon contact. 

It wouldn’t be difficult for you to slip a tentacle over the center console and touch him. The thought makes Izuku tense, cautious. He watches you from the corner of his eye, on high alert for any sudden movement you might make as you drive to the restaurant.

You had decided on one he was familiar with, a family-owned Italian place ten minutes or so from his complex. He knew the way there by heart, so he’d notice pretty quickly if you deviate from the route. It’s a small comfort, one he clings to as his nerves settle into an unpleasant itch beneath his skin. 

Timing. This is going to be all about getting the right timing. 

“So…” he clears his throat, “why did you ask me out?” 

“Curious?” You smirk. 

“A little…” he confesses. “I mean, it was pretty abrupt, you know?” 

“Honestly, it was kind of spur of the moment. I’m not usually that bold, but… god, something about those freckles. I just couldn’t help myself~” 

Something about your tone sends a shiver down Izuku’s spine. It’s different from the one you’ve been using— darker, richer. Is that your real voice? His toes curl in his dress shoes. When did his heart start beating so fast? He swallows a lungful of air, chest suddenly tight as his stomach swirls. Fear? Definitely. But, there’s something else, too. He can’t quite put his finger on it, and he’s not convinced he wants to. 

“You think I’m attractive,” Izuku says. The boldness with which the words slip from his own lips makes the hero blush. 

“Extremely.” You're shamelessly flirting with him now. It’s unfamiliar territory, being so blatantly come-on to. Enough so that he keeps his mouth shut the remainder of the drive. If there’s one skill Izuku is sub-par at, it’s flirting with pretty villains. 

As soon as the car is parked, Izuku scurries out to open your door for you, ever the gentleman. You purr your gratitude and link arms with the blushing hero, allowing him to lead you into the restaurant. He tries not to flinch at the way your blood red nails press into his bicep as the hostess guides the pair of you to a secluded booth in the back per your request and sets down two menus. The dim orange lighting feels strangely intimate as Izuku slides onto the vinyl cushion across from you. 

Acoustic guitar thrums through unseen speakers, weaving through the faint conversation of other patrons. Izuku can’t decide whether or not it’s to his advantage that the restaurant is rather crowded. But he doubts you’ll feel inclined to reveal yourself to a restaurant full of people, given your secretive reputation. 

“T- Thank you for helping Kacchan the other day,” Izuku says, cutting through the brief lull between you as you look over the drink options. “I was pretty worried when he suddenly went missing from our mission. I can’t imagine what must’ve happened. Where did you, um… find him, anyways?” He hopes it doesn’t come off too interrogation-y. But it seems you anticipated such questions. That, or you're a phenomenal on-the-spot liar. Either seems plausible. 

“It was pure luck, really,” you don’t look up from the menu as you speak. “He was just lying there, unconscious in the middle of the street. I honestly thought he was dead for a few seconds. He must’ve gotten hit pretty hard to get knocked out like that.” 

Izuku wonders if he’s just imagining the subtle rise of your cheeks, the faint smirk in your voice. “Right. Very lucky.” He nods like he believes the words coming out of your mouth, drumming his fingers over the cover of his own unopened menu. “I wonder how he got there. On the street, I mean. We were in the basement of that old bank on 5th Ave when we got separated.” 

You still don’t look up, voice taking on a bored edge. “That is strange, isn’t it?” Izuku opens his mouth, intending to keep pressing, but flinches in mild surprise when you abruptly snap your menu shut and lay it down on the table before leaning forward on your elbows, propping your chin on interlaced fingers. “Hey, Izuku. Can I ask you a question?” 

The look in your eyes is different, he realizes. Sharper. Darker. Almost… predatory. 

A nervous laugh hiccups from his throat. “You just did,” he jokes lamely, clearing his throat at your responding blank stare. “I, uh… Yeah. Yes. Go ahead.” 

The air shifts, suddenly heavy. 

“What are your thoughts on calamari?” 

Goosebumps prickled across Izuku’s arm, anticipation spreading beneath his skin like an uncomfortable itch. “Personally? I prefer katsudon.” 

You kiss your teeth in disappointment. “That’s a shame.” 

Izuku doesn’t hesitate. Black whip spears out from his knuckles beneath the table, the serpentine, black tendrils winding tightly around your legs and waist, effectively restraining you. But you don’t flinch, not even a little. 

The smug look on your face transforms into a mocking pout. “Oh? Are we done playing pretend already? But I haven’t even ordered my wine yet.” 

It’s jarring. Just how quickly you drop the nice girl act. Everything about your pretend demeanor simply falls away, revealing the dangerous nature lurking beneath the gilded mask. Your presence seems to swell, not literally, but in some unfathomable way that fills the space around you, like some kind of dark aura. It is probably considered bad form to restrain and arrest your date before the appetizers come out, but Izuku decides he can make an exception just this once.

“Tentaplicity,” Izuku starts, voice firm and low as he glares across the table, tightening black whip’s grip around you. “You are under arrest for crimes against the country of Japan, including robbery, trespassing, espionage—” 

A sharp peel of laughter cuts him off, your suddenly blazing eyes flaring with amusement. “Now you’re just getting ahead of yourself, don’t you think, Izuku? You’re going to spoil all of my fun,” you croon, clicking your tongue. “And you were being such a good boy, too. I’m feeling strangely disappointed.” 

Annoyance curls at the corners of Izuku’s mouth. You weren’t taking him seriously at all. In fact, you seem entirely unaffected by the fact that he currently has you bound with his quirk. Your indifference nicks the hero’s ego a bit, confidence wavering. “This is the end of the line, Tentaplicity. You’re going to prison. It’s over.” 

“Oh, is that right?” Condescension drips from your tongue, thick and saccharine as raw honey. 

Heat seeps across the back of Izuku’s neck. “Yes.” He says in a huff, moving like he’s about to stand. Until he feels something slick and warm creeping up his pant leg, and freezes instead. 

You smile at him innocently. “Sit down, Izuku. Unless you want me to bring this entire restaurant down with all of these innocent civilians inside of it.” 

The threat makes Izuku’s body go rigid. Shit. He made a mistake. He glances down towards his leg, where a sleek purple tentacle curls around his calf.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

How could he have been so careless? Assuming those damn tentacles wouldn’t be able to slip out when he had you restrained. He had no idea of the full extent of your abilities or if those rumors of paralytic substances were true. If they were, this could be checkmate. 

A whispered curse slips from Izuku’s mouth as he slowly sits back down, jaw clenching irritably. 

“That’s it. Such a good listener.” The praise only makes him scowl harder, rousing a mirthful grin across your face. “Izuku, I really do like you. I wasn’t lying before, about finding you attractive.” 

Red blossoms across the hero’s face despite his best efforts to will it away. He hates how his body responds to the beautiful villain’s empty flattery, hates how it heats him from the inside out like something molten, pooling in his lower belly and spreading through his veins—wait. Wait, no. This feeling… It’s not from the flattery. No way. It’s something else entirely.

His scarred hands flex into tight fists where they sit on his thighs, his gaze dropping to discover that his too-tight dress pants are tight for a wholly new and unexpected reason. 

“Wha— why am I—?” 

“Hard?” You interrupt, simpering as your tentacle trails further up his leg until it's slithering over his knee. 

Izuku jolts and folds forward, slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a jagged moan. He’s so confused. What the hell is happening inside of him? Why does he feel so… so fucking horny? 

“I’ll tell you what, Izuku,” you lean over the table as the grip of his black whip slackens around you. “I’ll leave everyone here alone if you walk outside with me right now. What do you think? A pretty reasonable deal, right? No one has to get hurt. And I’ll tell you alllll about my quirk. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hm, Izuku?” 

Every time you say his name, Izuku finds himself that much closer to coming undone right then and there. His body is a live wire, every nerve ending crackling with white hot electricity. It’s like he’s under siege by some invisible force eating away at the edges of his sanity. He can’t remember the last time he felt heat like this. Maybe he never has. He’s not thinking straight. 

That’s probably why his head bobs all on its own, and his traitorous mouth opens, husking out a breathless, “okay.”

The tentacle retreats from his leg, but that hot, hazy feeling remains. His knees wobble beneath him when he stands, weak and unstable. You loop an arm around him to support his unsteady weight and tug him tight against your side. He leans into you without a fight and allows you to guide him out of the restaurant, much to your waitress’s dismay. You placate her with a smooth lie about him suddenly feeling ill, his flushed face and unfocused gaze a convincing testament to the falsity.  

By the time you step into the cool night air, Izuku is coming back to himself, bit by bit. His back slumps against the rough stone of the exterior wall once you round a corner to a secluded side of the building, dropping onto his ass as he fights to catch his breath. 

“Geez, I barely used my quirk, and you’re already this weak? Sensitive little thing. I guess I’ll have to be gentler with you.” You muse, eyeing him with a lazy smirk.

He stares up at you from the floor. “Y– your quirk… you excrete… an aphrodisiac-like substance from your tentacles that s–stimulates the nervous s–system, inducing pleasurable sensations in people you touch,” he whispers, his lust-fogged brain working a mile a minute. Shamefully, he wishes he had his notebook on him to write it all down. 

Your brows lift, amusement glinting in your eyes. “Quick one, aren’t you?” 

“Just… observant.” 

“And modest to boot,” your gaze rakes over him, finding the hero cuter and more fascinating by the second. Even in the shadowed alley, those big, round eyes like mossy pools of green sparkle up at you with unrestrained curiosity. It’s almost flattering. 

What a strange boy.

“Is that—is that what you did to Kacchan?” 

You smile. “You really want to know? What I did to Kacchan?” Your voice curls as a faint, violet glow pulses from behind you, a pair of twin tentacles slithering into view. The sight of them steals the breath from Izuku’s chest. “I can show you if you like.” 

Izuku swallows the saliva filling his mouth as the otherworldly appendages extend towards him. Against his better judgment, he reaches out, sliding a rough palm over one of the smooth, coiling limbs. It’s almost glossy in texture and appearance, just slightly translucent, like blown glass fresh from the furnace. The pro hero gasps as the tapered tip coils around his arm, squeezing gently, the other creeping up his clothed thigh. That feeling from before returns, gentler now, less all-consuming, a faint thrumming warmth just beneath his skin. 

“Oh,” he gasps. His knees press together and draw up towards his chest, but the tentacles coil around each of his ankles, roughly yanking his legs apart, damn near sending him sprawling across the stone sidewalk below. “Ah! H– hey!” 

“Shh, puppy. Don’t wanna make a scene now, do we?” You move forward with startling swiftness, feet planted on either side of Izuku’s thighs, and he has to crane his neck back to look up at you. He nearly chokes on his tongue when your dress shifts, and he catches a flash of black underwear. Instinctively, he looks away, but a tight fist in his mossy curls forces his attention back to you. “Eyes on me.” 

Your tone demands obedience.

And, in spite of himself, of everything he knows about just how dangerous you are, he finds himself obeying. He’s not sure why, but he gets the feeling you won’t hurt him. You didn't hurt Kacchan. Not technically. 

“Good boy,” you hum, caressing his head. “Look at that pretty face. Bet it would look even better between my thighs.” 

Izuku’s breath catches in his throat. Between… your thighs? 

“Why do you look so scared? Fuck, don’t tell me you’ve never eaten someone out before.” The laughter in your words makes Izuku blush hotly, his responding silence speaking volumes. It’s not a far leap to assume the poor boy is a virgin. The thought that he’s never been properly touched makes you coo at him. “So puppy needs some training, is that it?” 

The hero’s chest practically vibrates with each rapid thud of his heart. He can’t believe this is really happening. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t eager to learn. To touch, to taste. You’re just too fucking pretty. It’s driving him to the brink of insanity. Maybe that’s why he shyly leans forward, nuzzling at the inside of your thigh, kissing the warm flesh with trembling lips. “Yeah…” he murmurs huskily. “Can I?” 

Oh, how precious. 

“How can I say no when you ask so sweetly?” You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. Is this really the same hero who was ready to haul you off to jail a few moments ago? 

Thick eyelashes kiss the top of his cheeks as he gently closes his lips over your cotton clad heat, sucking so softly, so unsurely, that it coaxes a scoff from you. He opens up and drags the flat of his pink tongue slowly over the soft, thin fabric, slicking it with warm saliva. He can just barely taste you through it, but the scent of you alone is enough to draw a husky moan from somewhere low in his throat as he makes out with your clothes slit. The soft vibrations send a shudder rippling up your spine. 

“Not too bad for a virgin,” you taunt, reaching down the slip the crotch of your underwear to the side, exposing the glistening flesh beneath to the hero kneeling before you. 

Izuku’s body seems to seize up, breath caught behind his teeth as he stares wide eyed at your plush cunt.

How can you be pretty down there, too? How can someone be so fucking beautiful? It’s unfair. He never stood a chance. He was fucked from the moment he laid eyes on you. It didn’t matter that you were a villain, not in that moment, at least. Not when he wanted you in such a visceral, bone-deep way. So severely that his very marrow seemed to sing with its need for you. He can’t tell if everything he’s feeling is just a symptom of your quirk, but honestly, he doesn’t really care. 

He’s ravenous. And you’ve just presented him with a plate of the sweetest ambrosia.

 “C’mon. Give it a proper taste.” 

The sound of your voice snaps him out of his trance, and he looks up at you, only then realizing that a thick puddle of saliva has pooled in his mouth, the tiniest bit of drool escaping the corner. He doesn’t bother swallowing. Because he suddenly remembers Kirishima telling him one time, “the wetter, the better.” 

A ragged gasp rips from your chest as Izuku attaches his sloppy mouth to your bare slit, lapping and slurping at you like a man starved. He more than makes up for his lack of technique with sheer enthusiasm.

Rough, calloused hands squeeze the flesh of your thighs, dull nails biting crescents. Yours burrow into his thick curls, pulling him closer, a silent urging for more. And he gets the message loud and clear.

Whether he intends to or not, his nose ends up circling your clit as he feasts on you, stimulating the little but incessantly. Gasping, your hips arch towards his mouth, pleasure rippling down your spine. 

“You like it? Is it yummy, puppy?” You coo, grinning down at him wickedly as your fingers card through his hair, tugging every so often.

“Mhm. Thank you—thank you. So good, tastes so good,” he babbles against your hot skin, not even bothering to pull away to speak, unable and unwilling to detach from his new favorite flavor: a subtle, almost coppery tang of bitterness entrapped within honeyed tendrils of sweetness that explode across his taste buds.

A sloppy concoction of your slick and his spit leaks from the corners of his eager mouth and spills down the length of his pale throat, but he couldn’t care less about the mess he’s making. 

Izuku is so absorbed in eating you out that he doesn’t notice the tentacles slipping towards him. Not until one squirms into the confines of his dress pants and slick heat engulfs his rigid dick, squeezing and pulsing around him in such a way that he can only let out a startled yelp before his body bucks and a searing load saturates his slacks. 

You let out a scoffing laugh. “Seriously? That quick? We’ll have to work on your self-control, puppy.” You click your tongue in feigned disappointment, and Izuku flushes red, tears of embarrassment wetting his eyes. 

“Y– you caught me off guard…” he glares up at you weakly, squeaking when the tentacle’s grip tightens around him once more. Oversensitivity ricochets through him, and he grabs at the slick appendage in a fruitless bid for control.. “Ah! Wait—!”

“Did I tell you you could stop?” You sneer, dragging his face back between your thighs. “Keep eating.” 

The hero whimpers helplessly, his body squirming as he’s dragged towards a second orgasm within the span of a few seconds. But he obeys like the good boy he is and resumes lapping at you, muffling his moans and whines in the soft flesh of your cunt. The sounds vibrate against your clit, sparks of electricity making the muscles of your thighs tighten. You hitch one over his shoulder, your heel digging into his lower back, watching as it arches beneath the gentle pressure. 

Dangerous inspiration curls in the back of your mind.

There’s no time to brace himself before Izuku feels a distinctive caress against the base of his spine. A caress that slips lower. And lower.

He breaks away from your heat for the second time, much to your utter distaste, gasping into the cool night air as his head whirls around, eyes bulging at the sight of one of your tentacles disappearing down the back of his pants. 

“Wait, no—” any protests wither and die on his lips when he feels pressure. Warm and wet, almost like he’s being licked at. No, exactly like he’s being licked at. Embarrassment and blood-heating pleasure set upon him, the two conflicting emotions giving him whiplash. “I– hold on—” words fail him. Displaced by devastatingly beautiful sounds of euphoria. Against his will his body presses back, hips grinding against the tentacle currently teasing his hole before jerking forward to fuck into the one gripping his cock. Stimulation ravages him from both ends.  “Coming, coming, coming.” 

“Again? Jesus Christ,” you grip his jaw, forcing his head up and back to get a proper look at his sinful expression. Eyes rolling, mouth drooling, skin pink and perspiring. It’s fucking pathetic how sensitive he is to even the slightest titillation. “That dick of yours is a fucking fountain. Seriously, how many rounds do you have in you?” You pause at your own question and grin. “Should we find out?” 

The threat (or promise?) of being made to cum until he physically couldn’t anymore both terrified and electrified Izuku. His mind and body can barely handle this much, and now you want to milk him dry? No. No, he couldn’t. He’d die. No fucking—

“Yeah.” 

Fuck. 

“Mm, I knew you’d like that. Boys like you always do. Going around pretending you're not aching to get those pretty little brains of your fucked out.” The taunting makes Izuku writhe, impatience licking at his every nerve. “Lucky for you, I’m not so easy to fool.” 

Izuku nods stupidly, ready to agree with just about anything you say if it means you’ll keep making him feel like this. Like nothing else in the world exists.

Scarred hands surge forward to clutch at your thighs when the pressure on his hole turns breaching. And god, does he open up around you ever so deliciously.

He’s cumming for a third time by the time the first three inches are inside, shuddering and whining a broken version of your villain name as the dark spot on the front of his dress pants spreads. His tight walls squeeze tight around your alien appendage, clinging desperately like his body is trying to suck you in. 

A soft moan flutters from your lips, and Izuku nearly cums again from the sound alone. So pretty. So fucking pretty. He wants to hear more. 

His warm mouth is back on you in the next second, desperately searching for the spot that makes you tick. He finds it with a careful swipe of his tongue through your slick folds, a small bud at the very top that earns him a shuddered gasp. He doesn’t miss a beat before he’s latching on and sucking, eliciting more and more of those beautiful reactions that make molten heat pool in his belly. 

The tentacle inside of him suddenly curls, drilling into his own sensitive bundle of nerves like a damn homing missile. If he hadn’t been holding onto you so tightly, he would have collapsed onto the stone below, a dumb little fuck toy eager to take whatever you’re willing to give him.

But at his core, Izuku is a giver.

And he is going to give as good as he’s getting if it fucking kills him, even if it means suffocating himself in the warm wetness of your twitching cunt. Which, honestly, doesn’t seem like a bad way to go. 

“That’s it, puppy, right there,” you whisper, gasping softly at the dual pleasure currently blazing through your blood and overwhelming your senses. The tentacle fucking Izuku speeds up, pounding into his ass so brutally that you can feel every sharp jerk of his body giving beneath the force. Every whimper and moan resonates through your clit, and all at once your release is surging over you. “Right there—!” 

Izuku sobs with delight at the first gush you bestow upon him, splattering messily across his blissed out face. The tension in his own gut snaps violently once more at the knowledge alone that he was able to bring you to that edge.

“Fuck, enough,” you hiss, grabbing his hair and forcefully dragging him off of your pulsing cunt when he refuses to do so on his own. 

He whines with disappointment, peering up at you with unfocused, lust-drunk eyes, swollen lips, and flushed skin glistening with your essence. You scoff slightly, swiping a thumb over his slick chin before pressing it into his mouth. He’s more than happy to oblige to the silent command, sucking the taste of you from the digit with a hoarse moan. 

“You’re so pathetic that it’s almost cute.” You slide your leg off his shoulder, the movement followed by a wet pop as you slide your tentacle out of his fluttering heat, much to the hero’s dismay.

“W- was that good?” He asks shakily, licking his lips as he watches you straighten yourself out. You raise a brow, amusement dancing across your face. You should have guessed that he’s the type to need reassurances. Those big green eyes were practically begging for praise.

So you hum and stroke his hair with all the tenderness you can afford. “Isn’t it obvious?” Izuku blushes when you gesture towards the mess between your thighs. The very mess he’d created. 

Swallowing, he hesitates before pressing a soft kiss to the skin just above your knee, an almost reverent gesture. “For me, too. I liked it. A lot.” 

“That was obvious, too.” He yelps when your tentacle gives his spent cock one final squeeze before slipping away, leaving him to soften in his cum-soaked slacks. “I could eat you alive, I swear.”

Between your soft chuckles and his responding whine, you almost miss it. A soft sound from the entrance of the alley, something like the sharp intake of breath. Almost. 

Both of your eyes snap over, locking onto the silhouette of a man, rigid with shock at the scene before him. 

Izuku blanches. Not only were they caught, but he’d have to be an idiot not to recognize that distinctive dichromatic hair, even in the dull shadows of the alley. 

“T-Todoroki, it’s not—” Izuku splutters, words catching in his throat and shattering. 

You barely manage to rear back before a wall of ice spears through the space between you and Izuku. Cold breath hisses from the glacial barricade and kisses your face. 

A voice, colder than the ice before you, rasps from the man. “Midoriya, run.” 

Heat like a blazing inferno roars, red flames snap violent jaws and force you back, but you’re too slow. You slam your teeth down on your lip to muffle a sound of distress as one of your tentacles is singed. Fuck, that was hot. Irritation nips at you.

“I guess I’ll have to cut this play session short.” In the span of a second, your tentacles erupt from you, extending into the sky and finding purchase on the roof of a nearby building. You meet Izuku’s gaze once more and shoot him a salacious wink. 

“Tenta—” Izuku starts, but you’re already shooting into the air in a blur of luminescent violet. Graceful and brutal and powerful. The moonlight caresses your silhouette like a yearning lover before you vanish into the dark maze of buildings. To his embarrassment, his exhausted dick manages a weak twitch. He drops his head into his palms, laughing in disbelief as everything that just happened rushes back over him. “Shit. I must be out of my mind…”

“Midoriya!” Any agonizing he could do over his little… escapade with one of the city’s most notorious villains is abruptly cut short as Shoto comes rushing over, heterochromatic eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

Izuku’s hands fly to cover the dark stain on his crotch, a crimson flush consuming his face. “I’m fine!” He says too quickly and clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

Shoto lets out a breath of relief, the tension in his shoulders deflating. “That was Tentaplicity, wasn’t it? Those tentacles…” he trails off, looking skyward as Izuku pushes himself up onto shaky legs, hands clasped deliberately in front of him. “I knew she was a villain, but… I didn’t realize she was a cannibal, too.” 

“Yeah, I— wait,” the green-haired hero sputters. “Cannibal? What the hell are you talking about?” 

“Well, she said she could eat you alive,” Shoto said in all seriousness, brows furrowed in concern. “I was really worried.”

Silence stretches between the two boys. Izuku breaks it with a snort. “No, that’s not—” he shakes his head and grins. “Ah, whatever. Thank you, Shoto. You seriously saved my a—um, me.” 

It’s not exactly priority number one to divulge the fact that he had very little interest in being saved. None at all, actually. He would have gladly stayed between your thighs, stuffed full for the rest of the night if you had allowed it. 

His ass throbs as he slumps into the passenger seat of Shoto’s car after the other man offers him a ride home. He’s grateful, since he’s not sure he’s up for the hour-long walk back to his place in his current state considering his original ride slung into the sky and hauled ass like Doctor Otto Octavius. He’s grateful that Shoto doesn’t ask questions about his disheveled state and sudden limp, probably assuming they stemmed from a fight with Tentaplicity. 

A soft buzz in his pocket makes Izuku flinch. With eager, fumbling hands, he quickly pulls it out and stares at the screen wide-eyed, trying to process what he’s reading. 

Sorry about our date ending so abruptly ;( I was really hoping to spend more time with you, shame we were interrupted by that pretty boy with the two-tone hair. Friend of yours? Maybe he can join us during our next playtime. 

xoxo,

green orbs find yours through the glass of the mirror, a knowing gaze etched on his face that only meant trouble. the tubes stripped from your grasp, quickly confiscated and wound tight in izuku's hand.

"waterproof, huh?" he mutters, staring at the product like a shiny new toy. his fingers brush past your shoulder as he points to another, "just like this one is? and this one?"

his mockery only sets you off, plucking the tube from his hand to tuck it away in your vanity.

"none of them work, izu. they just get all streaky and it ruins my face when i'm out with the girls ... i'm just checking for false advertising!" you huff, arms circled over his shoulders as you peer at him through decorated lashes. "don't you want me to look pretty?"

and izuku knows he shouldn't give in, shouldn't be a pushover just as he has been in times like these. but if his girl needs help, who is he to deny you?

"of course i do."

scarred hands trail the curvature of your body, tugging the hem of your shirt just enough to catch a glimpse of your bra. "but can't you look pretty without funding the entire company with my debit card?"

the smile on your face is answer enough, triumphant and cocky, like you knew just as well as he did that his complaints would fall on deaf ears.

even as you move him towards the soft sheets and press your body into his, he knows its only your feeble attempt to distract — a facade you both know he'll give in to the second your hand palms him through his sweats.

well, if he was buying the mascara, he deserved to test it just as much as you, no?

"i-izu .. izu, please—" you choke out a whine, face smushed against the pillows as you try to keep up. his pace is relentless — every slap of skin a punishing rhythm that brings tears of pleasure to your eyes.

the sheen on his face matches yours, green curls stuck to his forehead as he pants against your lips. warm breath mixing as he looks at you with a dazed stare.

“only the best for you, right? so we gotta — mmm — test it”

your eyes shut in pure bliss, lips caught between your teeth as you lose yourself on the way his hips slam into your wet cunt. a broken gasp slips free when he trails a hand down your front — squeezing over the valley of your breasts until it reaches your swollen nub.

the dam breaks.

"there it is" he coos, smile plastered on his face as a scarred hand swipes at your cheeks, flecks of black mixing with your tears. "think you can—fuck— you can count this one out too, princess"

the roll of his hips mixed with the circles on your swollen nub sends you into a haze, a feverish heat burrowing it's way into your chest as you writhe underneath him.

your fingers trench harder into the pillow, blackened tears forming a pool underneath you.

“izu-izuku, please. please.‘m gonna cum—“

the familiar coil building in your tummy as he moves against you in short, sloppy thrusts —each one forcing you deeper into the sheets. you splutter as he blanks a hand against your head, fingers entangled with the soft tendrils as he grunts against the shell of your ear.

the feeling only makes your cunt flutter, squeezing his length like a vice as tears spill down your cheeks.

“gonna have t’find one that can handle me, hm?” he starts, lips ghosting over yours as he speaks. “its okay, princess. i’m here to help now”

and if it meant you’d get to test them all like this - with the sheets stained black and your face smushed into the pillow…

you might need to add some more to your list.

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

The sound of their collective panting filled the air, the thud of fists against skin echoing off the walls as they tested each other.

Quick jabs, hits to the ribs; it was push and pull as they were nearly on equal ground, two decorated professionals with national titles.

You had to keep a close eye— track his movements to take note of any injuries, run over how exactly you would deal with each one. It was your job to.

But, admittedly, you found your gaze wandering against your will lately. More often than you wanted to admit.

It was difficult to ignore the way his biceps flexed with each jab, how soft blond tufts fell over his face, stuck to the sweat lining his forehead, the low hang of his boxing shorts highlighted his abs straining with each motion.

"Fuck!"

The sharp curse broke your trance, eyes snapping up, immediately alert.

Eijirou's hands flew over his mouth, his fighter's stance softening, hesitant hands reaching out towards his friend whose head was angled down, fighting to not reel.

"Woah, man, I am so sorry—"

Katsuki slapped his hand away, wiping at the blood beginning to drip down his nose with the back of his hand, unyielding eyes meeting Eijirou's.

"Keep it goin', Shitty Hair. And you,"

He didn't bother to look at you as you approached, keeping his burning stare on his opponent while waving you off with a harsh motion of his free hand. "Get back."

His bite was nothing new. You didn't bother to fight the eye roll, stepping closer to assess the extent of the damage. "Don't be dumb. Let me look."

"You deaf or something? Beat it."

More blood trickled down, coming over the curve of his lip. You had worked with Katsuki long enough to know that he pushed himself until he was battered, had nothing left to give.

Your job was to keep that from happening.

With a sigh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow.

"You are gushing blood. Come on—"

"Get your fuckin' hands off me, you piece of—"

"Again, don't be dumb—"

Eijirou blinked between the two of you, watching as you wrestled to keep Katsuki's arm in your grip, ineffectively attempting to drag him away. With a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes, he began to take backwards steps towards the bench where he kept his water, knowing there was little else he could do in this situation.

"I'm gonna take five. Go with her, man."

Feeling Katsuki's resistance give in just enough, you tugged him towards the med bay, giving Eijirou a grateful look over your shoulder. You hoped he didn't feel too guilty. Sparring was never supposed to get this intense, after all. But, mistakes happened.

You offered soft apologies under your breath to the few nurses on the same late shift as you were with a tight smile as you rushed past them to guide him into the room at the very back, shutting the door behind you.

It was just you two now.

Katsuki was still panting, worked up from the fight. There was probably enough adrenaline in his system to keep him from feeling the real pain of his affliction.

You pushed him back onto the bed against the wall to your right with a hand over his chest, feeling the warm muscle rise up and down under your palm before you turned to rummage through the cabinet, fishing out a medical kit with a crease forming between your brows.

"Are you trying to get yourself put on medical leave before your match next week?"

He didn't say a word, only the sound of his heavy breathing filling the room as you felt his glare against your back.

You sighed.

"Right before I get off too..."

"Yeah," He scoffed, a mocking edge to his voice. "'Cause I did that shit on purpose."

"You kept pushing. That was stupid and you know it, the best athletes know when to call it quits."

Katsuki scoffed, his jutted lower lip pursing as you set down the kit beside him, opening it up to fish out some gauze. "Maybe we should get you in the ring. Since you're such an expert."

You pushed his thighs apart with an unimpressed look, standing between them to get as close as you could.

A hand went behind his neck, gently tilting his head down so the blood wouldn't trickle back into his nose, go down his throat.

You carefully pinched the sides of his nose bridge to stop the blood flow, wiping away at what had escaped with clean gauze.

“You love making my life harder,” you muttered under your breath. “Can’t you just admit I'm right? Say you’ll be more careful?”

“The day I say that shit you can put a gun to my head.”

You rolled your eyes, but he continued.

"I don't say shit I don't mean," he sighed out, abs flexing as he winced slightly. “If your meddling ass didn't get in the way, I would've won.”

“Or you would've gotten your ass beat, but whatever.”

“I've had worse. A fucked up nose is nothing."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" you raised a brow, getting a new piece of gauze. "You never know when to stop, Katsuki. That's your issue."

The room settled into silence only the hum of the AC, your shifting, and the quiet, reluctant winces that slipped past as you tended to him.

His eyes never left you.

Sometimes, you wondered why.

Why he allowed you to treat him, why he let you get close. But you shook yourself out of those thoughts, reaching down to grab an ice pack. No time to get sidetracked, not now. Especially on something that was very likely nothing.

"Bleeding stopped."

He didn't respond, eyes downcast as you alternated between pressing it to either side of his nose bridge.

When he finally spoke, his words were quick. Quiet.

"I was going for his blind spot."

Said like he had to explain himself to you, or maybe himself.

But he didn't have to. You knew that his slip ups were extremely rare, he never made the same mistake twice— he beat himself up over every error, obsessed over earned perfection, victory.

His high standards for himself were what got him so far, but you knew they got to him. That, quietly, he sometimes needed reassurance, like anyone would.

“I know you were.” you finally responded, voice gentle, without pity.

"Eijirou's right side was open and he was getting tired. That was the right move. You would've gotten him."

He blinked down at you, as if assessing your honesty before a slight smile touched his lips. He gripped the edge of the small bed a little tighter, leaning down closer.

"Knew you were starin'."

Your heart jumped in your chest, but you pushed it down.

"Well, that is my job."

"It's your job to watch for injuries. Not stare."

You couldn't help what came out of your mouth next.

"Maybe I was staring at Eijirou."

"You think you're so funny."

"I think your ego's inflated."

"Wanna say that again?"

You pressed the ice a little too harshly into the side of his nose, drawing a small groan from him.

"Save it, Katsuki."

You packed up your kit and gathered the bloodied gauze to throw away, rinsing your hands before coming back to assess your work.

Blood clean, no signs of continued bleeding. A small bruise forming under his right eye from the trauma, expected.

It took everything in you to ignore the weight of his eyes, how he looked at you with an intensity reserved for his opponents in the ring. Calculating, searching. You could feel the burn crawling up the back of your neck. Professional, keep it professional.

You nodded a little too quickly, turning on your heel. "Yep, all good. No more sparring, but you can go back now."

He tugged you by the back of your shirt collar before you got too far, pulling you back between his legs, face only inches away from yours.

"You don't want that."

The sudden proximity along with his words made your heart spike, as if caught.

What did you want? The question made you uneasy.

(Or, maybe it was the answer that you knew deep down that made you want to crawl out of your skin.)

You pushed back slightly, deflecting.

“I want you to see Dr. Tanaka as soon as you can. I'll make an appointment for tomorrow morning since he left for the day. I think your nose is broken.”

“No it's not.”

It wasn't. If it had been broken, you would've known from one look, you would have been angrier with him. But that was your out, your excuse to get away. And he had called your bluff, gaze unmoving.

"Don't play dumb right now."

“I'm not playing dumb." the words came snappy, brave; but you were just so close, that fire faltered. His hand that had gripped the back of your collar had shifted carefully to the front, so close to your neck that you were afraid he might feel your heart try to burst out of your throat.

"You're just…" you trailed off, struggling to find your words. "…difficult. You're being difficult.”

"Difficult?" a dry sort of laugh. "You're the difficult one. For someone smart you can be pretty fuckin' dense."

You bit the inside of your lower lip, eyes darting between him and the door.

You knew what he meant. This back and forth between you was nothing new. But when it got too real you had always gotten away, said something and acted like nothing had happened once you cooled down.

The sounds outside seemed to be getting louder, closer. These doors didn’t have locks. Anyone could come in, find you like this. One of the nurses checking in, a gym goer looking for band-aids.

“Or maybe you do know. Hm?”

The question pulled you from your thoughts in an instant, made your eyes snap to his— first mistake. Once his crimson stare bored into yours, you couldn’t look away.

Could you have been that obvious? You thought your moments of distraction were fleeting, imperceptible to the average eye.

He had never commented on it before, slipping back to his normal self even after your closest calls.

But you should’ve known better. Katsuki Bakugou was not average in any sense of the word.

(Of course, he noticed. Of course he did.)

You sputtered something before you could think, just wanting to hear something other than the sound of your own thoughts.

"Some…someone could—"

"No one's gonna come in." his voice flat, dismissal easy. All matter of fact as he craned his neck down closer to you.

"Unless you want Eijirou to come in. Since you were, what, staring at him, right? That what you want?"

"What?!" the word was almost a squeak, high and taken aback. "That's not— "

You fought the strange heat crawling up your face by shooting him a look, eyes narrowing.

"Katsuki. I was joking."

He hummed.

(Unbelieving? Amused? A bit of both?)

"Sure you were."

You opened your mouth, then closed it. The deflections that had once come so easy were heavy on your tongue. There was no joke, no eye roll, nothing you could say to slip away. Not this time.

You sighed, next words defeated.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to be real with me." you could feel his breath against your lips; hot, charged. "Tell me you don’t want this, that you haven't thought about it.”

“Katsuki…”

It came out weaker than you wanted. Small, kind of breathless. Almost pleading.

For what— to let you go?

(To keep going?)

He kept egging, eyes not once leaving yours. “Say it. I'll stop.”

And you knew he would. Because he was being serious, you could tell by his voice— how it was low under his breath, softened. 

For you, he was being intentionally careful.

Just the thought made you want to cave. But the entire reason your relationship worked, why you were able to handle him, was because you didn't give in.

"There are rules about this sort of thing—"

"You think I give a fuck about bullshit rules?"

"Yeah, I know you don't." you gave him a look. "But I do. I could lose my job, you could get me fired, or…"

You swallowed back the rest of it.

He didn't have to know how it made you afraid, testing the fragile nature of this relationship. How giving in meant that all of this could shatter, that this could all amount to one big mistake.

Katsuki blinked, taking in your expression. He looked off to the side for a beat, lips pursing in thought before, carefully, he took your hands into his.

"You know I won't let that happen. I don't see any of the other shitty medics here."

You snorted a little. Because you did know. You cocked your head to the side, a small smile tugging at your lips. "They're not shitty."

He didn't retaliate, just raised his brows slowly. The truth of his words wasn't what mattered, it was the implication behind them.

(You're the one I see. You.)

His earlier words rang in your ears.

Tell me you don't want this, that you haven't thought about it.

You couldn't, because you had.

Countless times— whenever you watched him hover over his opponents, keep them locked underneath him, the heat in his eyes, a cocky smile on his lips.

He wormed his way into your mind, more often than not, late at night. When sleep couldn't find you and your bed felt exceptionally cold. Empty.

(Him. You imagined him.)

Denying all of that was exactly what you should have done. That would have been the rational thing to do, the smart thing.

But as you traced his face, followed the soft curve of his cheeks against the otherwise harsh lines, watched the furrow of his brow deepen ever so slightly, as if he, of all people, was nervous— you couldn't fight the feeling anymore.

Because you wanted to kiss him, and you wanted him to kiss you— more than anything.

Hesitantly, you brushed your thumbs over the bruises on his knuckles.

“No, I… I do. Want this, I mean."

Something in his expression shifted. Surprise, for a brief second, before that cocky gleam in his eyes that you had seen when he was in-action settled over his face. Only, a little different. (A little sharper, hungrier.)

"Yeah?" he pushed closer, nose just barely brushing yours. "You want this?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Yes."

His gaze darted from your eyes and lips before the sliver of space between you finally disappeared.

The kiss was tentative, careful. So unlike him that it caught you a little off guard.

Soft. His lips were so soft against yours.

He kissed you like he was trying to figure out the shape of your lips, go slow enough to savor the moment, commit the feeling to memory. The hand near your collar came up to cup your jaw, angle your face just right.

You had thought about what this would feel like for longer than you would ever admit. Did he think of you the same way? Were you what he had expected?

When he pulled back just enough to breathe, he drank in your expression; your pretty lips plush and parted, wide doe-eyes blinking up at him.

He groaned, "Fuck it."

You yelped when calloused hands gripped your arms, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, thick biceps flexing as he pulled you down to straddle his thigh.

You planted your hands on his chest to steady yourself on instinct, unable to process it for a second. Your thighs were around his leg, his hands at your waist, holding you in a way you had only ever thought would exist in the secret fantasies you let yourself indulge in. The small bed creaking under your combined weight. His chest rising and falling under your palms.

Sometimes, you forgot how strong he actually was. How he wasn’t just some other annoying, short-tempered guy— his body was molded to his profession; brute strength and jagged lines carved from a life in the ring. His shoulders broad, a tapering waist, arms nearly the size of your head. He could probably pick you up and snap you in half if he really wanted to. Your stomach flipped at just the thought.

Before you could open your mouth to speak, he flexed the muscle of his thigh; deliberate, testing. Sharp eyes watching as your face flushed at his bare muscle pressing up against your core.

Your breath hitched, warmth pooled down between your legs, heart beating in your ears as his large hands slid down to rest over your hips, holding you steady— pulling you down closer.

"Feel good?"

Your ears burned at the mocking edge to his voice. You squirmed, caught between wanting to slap that smug look off his face and slowly seek more friction by grinding down.

You didn't have to choose, not when his hands slowly guided your hips down, back and forth against his hardened muscle. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, clearly embarrassed, ineffectively fighting the whimpers that threatened to slip past with each movement.

His gaze never once left you, taking note of every little reaction.

Heat crawled up your face at being watched so shamelessly.

Leaning forward, you distracted yourself by pressing soft kisses up the side of his throat, staring to grind down on him yourself, your tongue darting out before gently sucking soft marks into his skin.

He let out a strained sigh, tilting his neck back just enough to give you more access.

You hooked your arms loosely around his neck, pecking across his jaw. Your fingers curled into the hair at his nape, giving it a soft tug, pulling his head back so his eyes met yours.

Pupils blown, eyes heavy with want, hair falling over them all messy and disheveled.

You didn't know how you had gone so long without this, how you could have ever wanted to keep your distance. Now that you let yourself have a taste, you didn't think you could ever get enough.

Tugging him to you by the hair, you pulled him to kiss you again.

This time, it was feverish, insatiable. Months of tension and denied desire pouring over all at once.

He kissed like he was still chasing you; like he had something to prove, like he wanted you to feel that you were his favorite taste. A clash of tongue and teeth, nipping at your bottom lip. Each time he pulled back to breathe it lasted less than a beat before he rushed back to steal the soft sounds that slipped past your lips as your hips continued to buck against his thigh.

But the fabric, it was in the way. No matter how hard you grinded down on him, there was too much between you and what you wanted, and the frustration was showing. Your slight sighs turning into small huffs, brows pinching against your will.

The next time Katsuki pulled back, you didn't let him kiss you again. The small string of saliva between your lips broke as you spoke, softly panting. "I want 'em off."

He looked down at your request, pinching the fabric of your pants between his index and thumb. Eyes looking up into yours carefully, like he was uncertain if that was something you really wanted.

You nodded, a little frantic.

"Off. Please."

He got straight to it. Getting them off wasn't pretty, but a controlled sort of desperate.

His movements were precise as always, fairly smooth, but you could feel that something was simmering under his palms as he moved you around to get them off just right, even more so when they finally rested over your bare legs, eyes slightly dazed as he gave the flesh a tentative squeeze.

You bit your lip at the feeling, skin burning under his touch, wanting it all over you.

You glanced down at your shirt.

"This too."

He scoffed, but there was something like a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "Fuckin' bossy."

His hands slid under the hem, bunching the fabric up over your chest, too impatient to get it all the way off. He reached back to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor as he took in the shape of your bare chest, the way your nipples hardened at the cool air of the clinic.

For a beat too long, he just stared.

On instinct, you wondered if something was wrong, if there was something about you that was weird or unappealing, the feeling twisted in you. But before you could tug your shirt back down, he cupped your tits with both hands, feeling the weight of them, squeezing slightly.

"Been waiting for this shit for so fuckin' long, y'know that?" He groaned out, leaning forward to bury his face into them.

You whimpered as he pressed wet kisses across the skin, thumb brushing over one of your nipples while his tongue lolled out to lick over the other, sucking it between his lips.

You began grinding down on his thigh again, the feeling so much more intense with just your panties on. You shifted your hips to find the angle that felt best, rubbing yourself down against the hard muscle of his thigh beneath you, solid and perfect, the friction sending sparks up your spine, your breaths coming out in shallow pants.

Each roll of your hips made your breath come a little faster, especially as his mouth pulled off one of your tits to give the other a fair share of attention.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he nipped at your chest, sucking harshly, catching your sensitive peak between his teeth just to hear you whine. His tongue was hot against your skin, wet and needy.

Katsuki could feel your arousal starting to coat his thigh, soaking through your panties, smearing over his leg with every drag of your hips. Smiling against your chest, he pulled back with a soft pop, looking down at the glistening mess you left behind.

He moved a hand down between your bodies, slightly nudging your hips up with his leg to give him enough space in between to feel you over your panties, the fabric evidently damp as his index and middle finger stopped right above your clothed clit, pressing against it just slightly, enough to pull a shaky sigh from your lips.

"All this from just my thigh?"

There was a smug, slightly demeaning tone to his voice, like he was surprised you were so wet, as if it wasn't his fault. It made you want to throttle him. Or kiss him. Or both.

Your brows furrowed. "Shut up."

He only chuckled, drawing a line down your clothed slit. All slow, agonizing. Self-satisfied at the soft whimper that slips out of you.

"It's a simple fucking question. Haven't even touched you properly yet."

You huffed, mustering your most serious expression to meet his eyes. "God, just quit teasing, Katsuki. You're being mean."

He raised his brows, that smile on his face only widening. "You think this is mean?"

Finally, finally, he hooked his fingers into your panties, pushing them aside. The first touch, skin-on-skin, made you gasp. He dragged his fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, slow and deliberate, before circling your entrance.

"I can show you mean."

His eyes were locked between your legs, watching his own fingers move. "Look at you," he murmured, almost to himself. “Fucking soaked."

He pushed one finger inside, slow enough that you felt every inch. You whimpered softly, walls fluttering around him.

He groaned softly, watching your face contort, feeling himself get even harder in his shorts.

"Tight," he breathed. "Gonna add another. That okay?"

You nodded frantically, beyond words.

The second finger stretched you more, made you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning too loud. He worked them deeper, curling them slightly. Your chest heaved at the intrusion you fought to not cry out, your nails digging into his shoulder as he hit just the right spot.

"There?" His voice was rough, satisfied. "That the spot?"

You couldn't respond, forehead falling into the crook of his neck, clinging to him as he curled his fingers again, rubbing that soft patch inside you with devastating precision.

Once he found it, he didn't stop, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting it with precision each time.

You grinded down into his hand, feeling the heel of his palm press up against your clit. You chase the feeling, shameless. Lost in the sensation, the overwhelming feeling of him all around you.

You mumbled into the skin of his neck incoherently about how you were: "Almost… 'm gonna…"

You could hear his voice right by your ear. Hoarse, determined.

“Yeah?” his efforts nearly doubled. “Close?”

You could only nod, coherent thoughts gone from your mind, only a desperate haze of want.

"Yeah. Yes. Please, please more…"

He kept at it, silently savoring your desperate sounds.

You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, moans muffled into his skin as the tightly wound up knot came undone. Your breaths getting heavy in your lungs, head getting fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut, nails having left angry red lines down the skin of his upper back.

He ran a hand up and down your back as you collapsed against him, coming down from the high. He let you rest against him, breathing from a moment before pulling you back with a small kiss to the side of your head.

"Look at me."

It didn't sound like a request.

"Hm?"

You watched with hazy eyes as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, the loss making you whimper. They glistened under the harsh light of the clinic, coated with the evidence of what he'd just done to you.

He held your gaze as he brought them to his mouth. His tongue darted out first, licking a long strip up the slick-covered fingers. Then, he took them fully into his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes never once leaving yours.

Your breath caught in your throat. Heat flooded through you again, despite having just come. Tasting you off his own fingers like you were the best thing he'd ever had— it was almost too much.

When he finally pulled his fingers from his mouth with a soft pop, he smirked at your expression.

"Tastes good," he said simply, like commenting on the weather.

You clenched around nothing, already missing him inside you, feeling spent but somehow needing more.

"You're shameless."

"Last I checked, I wasn't the one humping your thigh."

Your face burned, a small, angry sort of pout settling on your lips.

He snickered, hand sliding up to your waist, giving it a small squeeze. "Little too late to get all embarrassed. Shit was hot."

"Uh huh…" You gave him a look, "Um. Thanks, by the way... that was—" You trailed off, not knowing how to express what you feel just the right way. "Good. It was good."

Katsuki snorted. "Just good?" you rolled your eyes, but leaned into his teasing with sweetness, something he didn't quite expect.

"Much better than good."

He searched your eyes for a beat, a hand coming up to brush back some of your hair. Then he pecked your lips— soft, almost sweet — before tugging your shirt back down carefully.

That was when you slowly realized, he was wrapping this up. But… he didn't cum?

He didn't cum.

"Hey, wait you didn't—"

He knew what you were talking about, the strained bulge in his shorts was nothing short of obvious.

"Does it look like I care."

His dismissal of his own need threw you off.

"Katsuki, that's not fair. I can't just—"

"Sure you can. You just did."

You turned his head towards you, pulling him into a soft kiss, parting his lips with yours, trying to not get lost in tasting yourself on his tongue. Gently trying to urge him to let you have him the way he had you.

You try to convince him, urge him to let you return the favor, do something.

You ran your hand over the bulge in his shorts, traced it gently, wanting. He groaned against your mouth, the sound strained in the back of his throat, like he was holding himself back. "C'mon, Katsuki," you palmed him over his shorts, wanting to hear more. "Let me? Please?"

He looked like he could give in, his jaw tense, eyes screwing shut as your finger hooked into the waistband of his shorts, drawing out a breathy sigh. You froze when the intercom crackled above you.

"The gym will be closing in ten minutes. Please begin wrapping up your sessions and make your way to the exit. Thank you."

You blinked. Fuck.

"…I can be quick?"

That was a lie. Ten minutes wasn't nearly enough time to do what you wanted to.

He waved you off with a snort, tugging your hand away from his throbbing cock, taking it upon himself to adjust the hem of your shirt with more care than you thought possible from someone like him.

"Relax." He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Shit’s not a big deal. Can take care of it in the shower."

The mental image of him standing under the shower, hand wrapped around his cock, thinking about this — you — made something low in your stomach tighten.

You must have made a face, because he huffed out a laugh.

"But if you want to make it up so bad," He leaned in closer, nose brushing yours. The soft curve of his lashes was so much more apparent this close. He pressed a final, lingering kiss, grinning softly as he spoke. His voice low against your lips, promising. "We'll go for round 2."

may blabs: baby's first smut dont throw tomatoes at me.. ok

btw if u ever genuinely have a bloody nose do NOT tilt your head back. that blood will go down your throat and if it gets into ur stomach u could throw up and that is not good so do NOT do that ✌️✌️

big special thank u to the mutuals ( @updownandbatty & @cupidkats & @hushedlotus ) AND irls i bothered w this fic… u are goated ❤️‍🩹

again, art in the header is not mine, credits to the artist !!!

taglist: @nanakamii 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ :

his thighs are tense, and each time the fleshlight sinks all the way down, his hips are rushing to meet you halfway. at some point, your hand doesn't even move, you're just watching him fuck the toy as if it was you.

his thrusts get sloppy and you can tell he's so close to cumming, but you're still a little upset, and also a tad jealous from watching so you swap out the toy for your mouth instead!

you don't think you've ever heard katsuki moan so loud in your life, the feeling of you wrapped around him in place of the plastic is hypnotizing. all wet and warm, his composure lost the moment he feels your tongue against the base of his cock.

there's a silence that takes over the room afterwards, before the soft rustle of the sheets replaces it. and when the cuffs and blindfold come off, he wastes no time holding you in his arms, nipping at your ear and telling you that you're 'such a fucking tease'. 

and you're convinced he's sworn off toys, so you offer to throw it out. but instead, he tells you that he has more plans for it... one's that involve you a little more!

a/n: well i can't deny you sam ... people don't burn me at the stake here, sam brings out the freak in me. this may not stay up for too long fr

while you remain quiet, the group devolves into a mixture of shock and chaos at his response, bombarding him with a flurry of questions.

“what?! i’d believe that back then, but now? midoriya, you gotta be kidding! you’re telling me you don’t have girls lining up to get a piece?” mina asks, sitting up right.

“eh… none that i’m really interested in…” he replies.

“are you able to get it up?” ejiriou questions, an eyebrow arched.

izuku chuckles heartedly at that. “i can get it up.”

“i thought you had girlfriends before— how is this possible?” kyoka leans forward, incredulous.

“maybe he’s just waiting until marriage,” theorizes hanta.

izuku shrugs again and he leans back against the couch, considering his next words carefully. for a moment, it seems like his eyes flick to yours — lingering just long enough to seem thoughtful — before settling on the rim of his red solo cup.

“not really,” he murmurs, letting the words roll off casually, “i’m more so just waiting for the right girl that does it for me.”

“ooh!” eijirou laughs, “high standards then, i see! what even is your type, midoriya?”

“i wanna know too! we could set him up!” mina chimes in.

“i think he likes those bubbly nice girls,” denki assumes.

izuku shakes his head lightly, playfully scrunching his nose before taking a sip of his drink. “ah, no. i think i like mean girls, if anything.”

“whaat? so you’re saying you like girls who take control or something?”

“hah, not really— i mean like…” he clicks his tongue as the words escape him. “like… i don’t know. the ones that huff and pout.”

“feisty, huh?” eijirou ponders, a finger tapping his chin. “i don’t think i know any girls like that…”

“you don’t want a girl like that, midoriya,” hanta advises, “my ex was like that. total headache.”

“more than the girl screaming her head off?” kyoka giggles.

“it’s a close competition,” hanta laughs.

“yeah… but even then, girls at our school are all… goody-two-shoe sweethearts that are on the fast track to being in the pro-hero hall of fame. like this one,” mina says, draping an arm around you as if to prove her point.

as you get roped into the conversation, your hands fly up, waving as you laugh. “wh— hey? what’s that supposed to mean?”

“goody two shoes' is not the word i’d use for her,” denki teases with a smirk, catching your hand by the wrist when you playfully try to swat him. “i feel like you lose that title once your virginity is gone.”

“well, whose to say she isn’t a virgin?” hanta suggests, “if someone like midoriya hasn’t gotten any, then how do we know leaderboard darling over here isn’t in the same boat as him?”

you scoff, coyly biting the inside of your cheek, and rolling your eyes. “i don’t kiss and tell, guys.”

“oh she fucks,” mina cackles.

as the conversation moves on from you, you breathe a sigh of relief. the truth of the matter was that hanta had suspected correctly— you actually were in the same situation as izuku. to makes matters worse, you hadn’t even had your first kiss!

listening to the group continue to swap embarrassing or funny sex stories, your eyes inevitably drift back to izuku. this time, his gaze was already on you, studying and waiting.

a heat creeps up your neck. you stand up — not too fast to give yourself away— excusing yourself to go to the bathroom. once there, you take the time to settle with your thoughts.

midoriya izuku was a virgin.

the thought made you happier than you cared to admit. was it because you hated him and therefore didn’t want anything good to happen to him? maybe. after all, you had made his life hell in high school. sure, you cleaned up your act once you got to university — mostly because you didn’t see him as often — but that didn’t mean you got along when you did.

or was it something else…? something you had been trying to deny for years? that maybe, just maybe, you had a crush on stupid-ass dek—

the cold water from the running sink snaps you out of your thoughts. after drying your hands, you return to the living room, only to find most of the group had dispersed. you scan the room, looking for someone to mingle with, and your eyes land on a towering back, topped with an unmistakable wild mess of green hair at the drinks table.

before you realize it, your feet are carrying you to izuku's side, hands trembling slightly as you pour yourself a refill of whatever you were drinking, and your lips move on their own.

“y’know— couple more years and you’ll be a wizard.”

he smirks, not looking at you just yet. “sounds fun. i’ve always loved harry potter.”

your jaw tenses at his nonchalance. “however,” you add, “i think by forty it falls off.”

“ah,” he says, clicking his tongue. “is that so? that’s a shame.”

“or a blessing. like we need a mini you running around.”

“well, at least i still got time.”

“i doubt it,” you scoff. “like there’d be anyone desperate enough to sleep with you.”

lazily, his gaze drifts to you now. noticing the way you can’t meet his eye but can spit out all these sorts of negative things, he tilts his head. “do you really want it that bad?”

“want what?” you ask back, caught off guard.

“my virginity,” he says plainly, angling his body towards you. “you seem like you want it pretty damn bad.”

“wh— i… that’s not what i am saying at all, deku, i don’t know what those gooner ass pornos you watch teach you, but— just because a girl talks to you, doesn’t mean she wants to sleep with you.” the familiar venom in your voice seems to amuse him.

he shrugs, a smirk subtly tugging at his lips as he takes an easy sip of his drink. “ah, that’s too bad. i would’ve gave it to you.”

a rush of heat makes your head spin at the offer, ears ringing as you struggle to maintain your composure. you clear your throat, nose sneering like it’d hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. “um— ew, no. you’re not even my type.”

“well, what’s your type then?”

“like…” your words stall as you try to think of how to put it— careful not to give too much away, and not sure if you even want to. “guys with experience, obviously. i don’t want to teach a guy how to do it properly.”

his lips jut out as he considers your words. “well, i’m a fast learner. i’m sure i can do a good job once i’m showed the ropes.”

“what makes you think i even want to show you ‘the ropes,’ idiot?” you scowl.

he sighs, playfully looking down, almost hopelessly. “oh, you’re right... i just thought a pretty and nice girl like you with so much experience might feel bad for me. y’know, because you’re a hero…”

your lips purse as he provides you this plausible deniability. teeth clenched and leg ever so slightly bouncing with deliberation, the gears in your head start turning.

“well… hmph…” you mutter at last, glancing to the side as if something more interesting had caught your attention. “i guess… i could do some charity work… but you can’t tell anybody about this, okay?”

a small smile plays along izuku’s lips. before you can protest, he leans down and reaches out to hook your pinkie with his, and presses a gentle kiss to his fist— eyes flicking up to yours. “promise.”

you pull away, the blush spreading across your face growing hotter by the second. “ugh, you’re so fucking weird…”

he straightens, laughing as he sets his cup down on the table. “when can we do it?”

“when?” you repeat back, hesitating, your words caught between thought and impulse. “i mean, i guess, now, because i’m not doing anything but—”

“great,” he cuts you off, taking your hand in his again, and leads you through the crowd of partygoers, heading towards the way out. “my place is pretty close by— we can walk there, is that okay?”

it takes you a moment to register that your hand is wrapped in his— large, warm, and rough. you clear your throat, trying not to let your nerves show. “wait, wait— do you even have a condom or anything? lube?”

izuku slows his pace, matching yours as he looks you over. “condoms…” he repeats slowly. “well, i have a bunch of free ones i got from planned parenthood… the booths that pop up, i mean. lube, now, i don’t have that. but, i heard that if you get a girl wet enough, you won’t need it.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “so you think you’re going to get me wet enough to not need it?”

he shrugs, guiding you across a crosswalk, a hand resting lightly on the small of your back when he does. “beginners luck?”

“you’re going to need a lot more than luck.”

“it’s a good thing i have you to teach me then, huh?”

you say nothing, feeling a heavy weight on your chest as you trek up the stairs to his apartment. once inside, your eyes sweep over the living room, noting how clean everything was as you set your shoes on his shoe rack.

“you live alone?” you ask, forcing your voice to stay steady, as if asking about anything else could distract you from why you were really here.

“yep. it’s great for hosting.”

you roll your eyes as you follow him to his bedroom. “of course you love hosting,” you mutter, your gaze narrowing at how nerdy his room was— all might posters plastered on the walls, expensive figurines lined up neatly on shelves, a stack of manga spilling over his desk. you perch on the edge of his bed, quietly taking it all in as he goes to hang up his jacket.

“ah, i forgot— you never were much of a people person, huh?” izuku asks, chuckling at some sort of memory. he sits down right next to you, his knee brushing against yours.

“i’m a people person. i love people,” you say defensively, not very convincing in your tone.

he laughs again, leaning back leisurely, hands splayed on the bed beside him. “that’s what you want people to think. that sparkly and naive sweetheart thing you got going on? i think it’s you for a moment, but it also makes it so you can’t wait for when you’re alone. am i right?”

he was. but you’d never admit that. “you’re projecting,” you mumble.

he simply shrugs in response. “maybe.”

a quiet falls between you two, his pinkie tentatively reaching out to yours on the bed.

“so,” he starts, breaking the silence. “what are we supposed to do first?”

there’s a strange churning in your stomach as the thought claws through you— not only would you be taking his virginity, but you’d be losing yours too. “well,” you sigh, trying to play off your nerves. “you have to get me in the mood. do you think you can do that or is that too hard for someone like you?”

“hm… it might be. do you think you could walk me through how to do that?”

a sigh escapes you, your annoyance masking your real feelings. “useless. okay, come here,” you say, beckoning him to shorten your height gap. he obliges, leaning in a bit closer than you anticipated, and his hands graze your sides.

“like this?” izuku asks, tilting his head.

“yeah,” you mumble, your pulse quickening slightly as you took in his features. ever since his growth spurt back in the third year of high school, you hadn’t really gotten a proper look at his face since then. his eyes were still the same striking green, though the freckles that once dotted his cheeks had faded from too much time in the sun. as your gaze traced the curvature of his cheekbones down to his lips — soft, full, and tempting — your tongue darts out to wet your own. “have you… ever kissed someone before?”

“nope,” he answers honestly, grinning like an idiot. “i’m assuming you have though, right?”

“of course,” you huff, bringing your hands up to the sides of his face, hoping he wouldn't notice how they trembled. you try to recall that wikihow article you read on french kissing one random tuesday night, steeling yourself to the best of your abilities. out of all the collegiate heroes on that damn leaderboard, if anyone deserved to be crowned the best performer— it'd be you. and by god, that’s what you were gonna do.

perform.

slowly, you closed the space between you two and brushed your lips against his, a shaky gasp escaping you at the contact. quickly swallowing it, your eyes closed naturally, letting yourself focus on the sensation of his lips on yours. it was surprisingly wetter than you imagined. awkward too, especially when his nose bumped into yours, which you let out a noise of annoyance at. he only laughed breathlessly in response, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. after a while, almost procedurally, your tongue went out to touch his, which he eagerly chased after— sending a dizzying thrill throughout your body.

soon enough, your back met the mattress of izuku’s bed, and he hovered over you, his fingers sliding down to lace with yours, effectively caging you beneath him. he gave an experimental lick along the roof of your mouth — brief, testing — then repeated it the moment he felt your positive reaction. he worked it into the rhythm of the kiss, his upper lip catching on your lower one in a way that made your breath hitch.

eventually, you pulled away, turning your head to the side to catch your breath, and the back of your hand came up to cover your face. “o-okay,” you manage, clearing your throat, trying to cover up your panting, “that’s good enough.”

with a deep exhale, you turned back to face him.

god, he was so pretty.

face flushed, eyes half-lidded, and running his tongue over a canine as he smiled faintly, you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him. your eyes drifted lower, taking note of how his leg had wedged itself between your thighs, and was threateningly close to grinding against your crotch. you suddenly felt very small and vulnerable under him, and felt the urge to regain control.

“move back,” you sighed, as if he was doing everything wrong, swallowing your pooling saliva, and lightly tapping his chest. he does as you say, and shifts back to sit on his heels, allowing you to sit up.

after stalling by letting your gaze wander around the room, you finally speak again— unable to meet his eyes as you work up the nerve to voice your next demand. “okay, um, i guess…” — you sigh — “you can take off your pants. because you’re probably already hard just from that so... let’s see it.”

he laughs softly at your dismissive tone, fiddling with the buckle of his belt, and slipping it off. your thoughts drifted all over the place as you wrestled with the notion that this was the first time you’d see a dick in person… and to be honest, you felt a bit scared. however, before you knew it, his pants were off and his briefs were gone, and a pretty, thick, and long cock greeted you with it’s presence, and there was no time to be.

you could feel the blood rush to your ears as it twitched against his lower abdomen, and resisted the urge to ask if that was normal. while you didn’t think he’d be small or anything, (though if anyone asked, you’d probably claim he was, just to mess with him) his length was on the verge of being too much. the tip was pink and flared, a vein ran down it’s left leaning curve, and patches of dark green, almost black hair framed the base.

“is everything okay?” he asks, seeing your drawn-out silence, suspiciously knowing.

“yes,” you scoff defensively, sliding off the bed, and lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him. face to face with his crotch, his cock was probably even more nerve-wracking now, as it seemed almost impossible you could get anything done with it. maybe a more experienced girl could handle it just fine but you were anything but that.

tentatively, you reached a hand out to him, the room feeling a bit surreal as you wrapped your fingers around his dick, and you could feel the blood pulsate underneath your grip. after giving him a few experimental strokes, you then took him into your mouth, remembering to cover your teeth with your lips based off a tiktok comment you read once.

after a few more minutes of attempting to bob your head up and down, it was pretty clear that you were fumbling. he could see it and so could you, but your pride wouldn’t let you admit it. the taste of a dick wasn’t anything like those smut fics you read back in high school had described. it wasn’t really salty or sweet— it just tasted like skin. although, the trickling beads of pre-cum had a taste to them, one that you liked a little. but other than that, your jaw was beginning to ache already from widening it more than you were used to.

his hand reaches out to your head, petting your hair almost like he would a dog. “hey… um,” izuku says, trying not to laugh at the sight of you, “are you sure you’ve done this before? it’s totally fine if you haven’t…”

your eyes flick up to his, hot embarrassment settling in your chest. “of course i have,” you snap, swatting his hand away from you. “it’s not going to look as sexy as your fucking — your little fucking hentais you goon to — but that’s because i’m a real girl, not your 2d waifu or whatever, fucking idiot. you should feel lucky you’re with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

his brows furrow slightly at your wording, weighing them in his mind, and finding you ridiculously cute. “ah. right, i forgot. you’re a pro. can i just—?”

without warning, his hands interlace with your hair and he bucks up into your mouth, hitting the back of it with his cockhead. at the sensation, you sputter and gag, and he lets out a throaty groan. as he makes you take him to the base, and holds you there, you felt like you were going to throw up.

“h-hah, sorry…” he grunts, his dick throbbing against your tongue. “saw this in those ‘little hentais i always goon to.’ it’s okay, right? since you’re so experienced?”

you shake your head, slobber dripping down his length as you try to say something, only for him to continue. you both know if you weren’t, you’d bite his dick off— and your quirk was capable enough to go toe to toe with him, meaning that if you really wanted to, you could fight him off… right?

eyes fluttering and tongue lolling, your mind goes blank as he stands up, fucking into your mouth. in a way, you feel a bit relieved— not having to think so hard on what to do or how to act. your shoulders relax, and you let him have his way, already pocketing the excuse that he ‘overpowered’ you or whatever.

as fast as it started, his thrusts begin to stutter, balls plapping against your chin erratically. “fuck, damn— i think i’m gonna, fuck— ” he cusses, and a hot warmth gushes down your throat, coating your tongue. finally, he lets go of you, and sits back on the bed, winded, watching as you cough and gasp for air, with some semen you didn’t swallow splattering onto the carpet. you don’t have it in you to say something snarky and mean to him just yet, allowing yourself the time to rest the curve of your face against his thigh, trying to catch your breath.

however, a few taps against your cheek interrupt your rest. “you’re tired already?” he asks with an “innocent” tilt of his head. “don’t we have more stuff to do?”

the lack of oxygen to your brain makes it hard for you to come up with anything snarky. “whuh…?” you babble out, looking up at him, clearly a bit out of it.

izuku just chuckles, helping you back onto the bed. you sit next to him, leaning onto his arm as you regain yourself. as you do that, he takes off his shirt, and your eyes take in his muscular form. his hand then slithers around your back, resting itself on your hip.

“hey,” he whispers, voice low against the shell of your ear, beckoning for your attention. “are you going to take off your shirt now?”

you brow furrows at his teasing as you snap back into reality. “ugh, yes, deku— i am. don’t fucking rush me,” you huff, hands shaky as you lift up your shirt over your head.

“ha— i’m still ‘deku,’ even though we’re here?” he asks, glancing down at your breasts when you undo your bra’s clasp, freeing them. yet, they’re quickly hidden away from his leering as you cover your chest with your arms.

“are you supposed to be something else?” you question.

he shrugs, his other hand creeping up your thigh, resting just under the space where your skirt covered. “maybe, ‘izuku,” he suggests, “since you’re going to be moaning that later?”

“i’m not going to be moaning anything,” you fume, the words not even convincing yourself.

“hm, maybe,” he chuckles, tracing circles into your skin with his thumbs, watching you twitch underneath his touch. “maybe it all be gibberish by that point, on the account of being fucked dumb.”

“you have a lot of confidence for someone whose never done this before.”

“well, neither have you, but you’re pretending you have, for some reason.”

“i have, dumbass. it’s just… been a while,” you mumble, not really believing your new excuse.

he just shrugs again, smiling as you delude yourself. “ah, yeah, okay. my bad.”

a pause falls between you two for a moment.

“well… can i see your chest?”

you sigh, as if his request was an impossible task. you lie back on the bed, your head resting on a pillow, and covering your face with your arms as he looked curiously.

“they’re very pretty,” he murmurs, the compliment going straight to the blush across your face. “can i touch them?”

“… yeah.”

subsequently, his hands reach out to grope and squish your tits, watching how they fall against your chest when he lets them go. then, in his curiosity, he begins to tease your nipples, holding you down by your hips with his elbow when your back arches.

“i— ah, wait…!” you say, letting out a noise in between a whimper and a laugh as he begins to roll a peak in between his fingers, watching it harden.

“that’s an interesting noise,” izuku cooes, laughing at your following huff. “what will you make if i…”

a squeal leaves your throat when his mouth latches onto one of your breasts, his hand continuing to play with the other. as he sucks and licks, teethes and pulls— your nipples are soon left puffy and swollen under his ministrations.

“deku— that’s enough,” you whine, bringing a hand to the back of his hair, attempting to peel him off you.

he resists, holding a nipple in between his teeth as he corrects you. “izuku.”

your brow furrow as he continues. “izuku,” you hiss, the first name sounding strange to say. “quit it…”

luckily, he relents, but not before giving both of your sore boobs a kiss. he sits back on his haunches, waiting for you to catch your breath, and hoping you won’t mind the hickies he left on your skin by accident.

“ugh,” you say at last, glaring at him. “you’re like a dog.”

“woof.”

“funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

the grin plastered on his face goes unappreciated by you. “are you going to take your skirt off now?”

“is there some sort of schedule or timeline i’m not aware of?”

izuku chuckles, his nimble fingers moving to your waistband. “no, it’s just because you’re soaking wet, and i’m wondering when you’re gonna let me eat your pussy.”

your blush intensifies at his crude language. “i’m not wet,” you grumble, both of you not believing that. “that’s also… not necessary.”

“can i at least see it?” he asks, oh so sweetly.

you sigh, already knowing that one way or another, he would get his way, and you cover your face with an arm. “yeah, whatever.”

with a twinkle in his eye, izuku pulls down your skirt, along with your underwear in one swift movement. he moves to go lay in between your legs, holding them down with his muscular forearms, and savors the sight of your glistening folds.

the intensity of his stare makes you squirm, body truly trembling as his warm breath ghosts your puffy lips. “nervous?” he asks, eyes flicking up to yours.

“n-no,” you lie.

he smiles, giving the inside of your thigh a kiss, laughing when you instinctively clench. “it’s really pretty,” he comments. then a thumb reaches out, spreading your labia. “warm. not to mention, wet.”

“it’s not because of you,” you shiver, shutting your eyes tight.

“sure. self-lubricating organ that produces an arousal fluid just happens to be dripping so much it’s staining my bedsheets.”

before you can respond, he takes a long lick up the slit, the flat of his tongue rubbing against your clit, making you whimper.

“fuck,” he groans. “that tastes so good…”

it’s obvious, based on how you gasp and writhe, you’ve never felt like this before, not even knowing what to do with your hands as he eats you out, especially when he wraps his lips around your clit, swirling his tongue around the bead. eventually, your fingers interlace with his hair, and he moans involuntarily, the sound reverberating against your core.

after a few more slurps, laps, and flicks of the tongue, he pulls away, and you let out a humiliating whine. he laughs at the noise, giving your thighs a pat. “hold on. i need to stretch you out for later.”

at the mention of the idea of his monster of a dick entering you, you tense up. as his thick middle finger circles around your entrance, before slowly sinking inside you, you’re left clenching and on the verge of tears.

“i… ow— wait,” you cry out, trying not to panic. “i think something is really wrong…”

“vaginismus,” izuku suspects incorrectly yet earnestly, deciding to note the enveloping hotness of your heat later. “you need to relax. it happens for a number of reasons, but i think it’s because you never had anything in here and you’re stressed out about it.”

you don’t deny it this time, trying to focus on your breathing, and not on the almost stinging sensation below. when he notices the strain on your face, he moves to lean over you, his free hand taking yours.

“hey,” he murmurs, continuing to pump his finger in and out of you. “it’s going to be okay. we’re taking it slow.”

it’s not until he wipes away one of your tears that you realize you’ve been crying, and you hide your face into his shoulder.

“i’m sorry for lying,” you sniffle, overwhelmed with emotion, feeling ashamed that your first time isn’t going as easily as you imagined it would. “i’m ruining everything.”

he laughs softly. “if there’s anything you need to be sorry for, this is the last thing. i’d probably pick bullying me since we were kids first.”

“i’m sorry…”

“it’s okay. just means i get to bully you here,” izuku whispers, a smile tugging at his lips before he continues. “i’m really lucky that a girl like you is giving me her first time and that i get to have my first time with you. there’s nothing you’re ruining. relax, okay? don’t think anymore. you don't have to prove anything to me.”

you nod, quiet for a moment. “your finger is really thick,” you complain at last and a snort escapes him.

“maybe compared to yours.”

“compared to anyone normal…”

he shrugs, his thumb moving to rub your clit as he fingers you. “does that help?”

“a little…”

“let me...” he mumbles, his finger curling to stroke the roof of your sex, looking for something. he knows he's found it when you gasp and gush around him. “there.”

your hips buck as you start to feel the pain ease, replaced by a sensation of pleasure. “wh— mm, what is that?” you pant, reflexively moving to get away.

izuku keeps you still, continuing to massage that spongy part. “g-spot, i’m pretty sure.”

“pretty sure?”

he laughs, dipping his head near your neck. “girl, it’s my first time too. i’m figuring out at the same time you are.”

as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, you feel your mind start to cloud over, yet your daze becomes interrupted when you feel izuku take a big long lick up your neck.

“what are you doing?” you murmur, your brow furrowing.

“i heard the neck is an erogenous zone for women. is it doing anything?”

“not if you’re slobbering all over me,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “just go back to what you were doing.”

“alright,” he complies, snickering at your tone, before mixing in sucks and bites this time.

soon after, he slips another finger into your heat, holding your hand tight as you adjust to the stretch. thanks to his prep, there wasn’t any pain. it felt… actually, good. almost addicting.

“damn, do you hear that?” he asks you, letting a silence fall between you.

you strain your ears as you try to listen for something. however, once you realize he was referencing the sloppy sounds your pussy was making, you let out a whine of embarrassment, which he laughs at. once a beat has passed, izuku asks another question, the tone contrastingly soft. “do you think you’re ready for me?”

glancing down, you notice his dick thick and hard once more, with the excessive amount of pre-cum dripping down from the tip an indicator that he’d been like so for a good while.

“i… i don’t know…” you whisper.

“let’s just try, okay? if it’s too much, i’ll stop and we can go back to stretching you out some more.”

when you finally nod, he takes his fingers out of you, and sucks off the arousal clinging to them as he slides off the bed to go grab a condom from his closet shelf. once he returns, and he climbs back onto the bed to sit in front of you, life feels like it’s moving in slow motion. spreading your legs and keeping them open, he positions himself at your entrance, and your body shivers as the tip of his shaft rests along your folds, with only a thin layer of latex dividing you.

discipline, midoriya izuku, he reminds himself. the dizzying sensation of your pussy fluttering around his cockhead — peppering it in kisses in hopes to pull him in — was making it hard from resisting the urge to shove his dick inside you in one go. grounding himself, his hands find purchase on your hips. “ready?” he asks, swallowing when his voice cracks.

“go slow,” you remind him, as if you were nervous he’d forget. he almost feels bad when it makes his dick twitch.

both of you watch as his tip disappears within your folds and your chest trembles as you stretch around his girth. he makes sure to check in with you with every inch that enters. by the time he’s half way in, you’re panting, with runaway tears rolling down your cheeks.

“jesus,” he groans, shutting his eyes tight as your walls squeeze and convulse around him. “i-it doesn’t hurt, right?”

you shake your head, only managing to say the one thing on your mind: “i-it’s big…”

a throaty laugh escapes izuku at your astute observation, a hiss following the sound as he swears your pussy was trying to squeeze his dick off. “does it feel good?”

“i think,” you mumble, watching as he moves back and forth, slowly going deeper with each thrust. “there’s no blood, right?”

“from your hymen?” he asks, an eyebrow arched as he’s caught off guard. “you can’t really break that— only tear it. and not everyone bleeds.”

you scoff, feeling annoyed that he was mansplaining to you (even if he was right). “i know that. i was just ask…ghh—!”

it feels like the wind is knocked out of you as he tunnels his dick all the way to nestle against your cervix, stilling there for a moment while he wipes some drool dribbling down his chin with his arm. “fuck, i could stay here forever,” he mutters, grinding his cockhead deeper.

whatever you were saying — or going to say— is forgotten, quickly replaced by the thought of how you could feel every twitch of his dick inside you, even with the condom on. “y-you’re too deep,” you whine.

he just laughs at your response, pulling back and trying to find a rhythm. “sorry,” he says, yet you doubt he was.

“stupid…”

at your insult, izuku's lips curl into an amused smile, before testing out a roll of his hips against yours, and letting out an affectionate sigh. “you’re so cute.”

caught off guard, you press your face into the crook of your arm, trying to hide your flusteredness away from him. he just laughs at your embarrassment, before leaning down to tease you some more.

“but, don’t you think you could lighten up and say something nice for once? don’t you get tired of acting like that?”

you let out a huff, bringing a hand up to gently push his face out of yours. “i’m not acting like anything. you’re just annoying.”

“you don’t think that,” he replies, palms covering yours in a casual, easy grip, before pinning them above you. “you like me. you like me so much, it’s making your pussy squeeze tight around me— wishing i wasn’t wearing a condom so i could get you pregnant.”

as if on cue, it does exactly that, making you bite your lower lip, to stifle a moan. noticing this, izuku brings his lips towards yours, giving you a gentle nibble, not wanting you to keep in your sounds. “don’t hold it in, come on… if you can’t say anything nice, make some noise for me then,” he pouts, mockingly.

“izuku—” you mewl, brows furrowing, only to be silenced by his tongue meeting yours.

“oh, i like when you say my name like that,” he chuckles lowly against your lips, before continuing to kiss you.

eventually, your face gets away from him, but not without some drool dripping down your chin, and your eyes glazing over. “i-i don’t like you, by the way,” you struggle to huff, feeling your climax building up as he finds the angle to hit against that sweet spot.

a breathless laugh escapes him as you’re still on that. “yeah? that’s a shame, because i like you.”

you squirm hearing his confession, but having no place to go pinned under him, a helpless whine escapes your lips. “man, shut the, — fuh — fuck up!”

“i saved myself for you,” he confesses further, his hand reaching down to rub at your clit, relishing in the whimper you make when he does. “wanted to see how long it was going to take you to make a move, but i got a bit impatient tonight. you just looked so fucking cute.”

your eyes shut tight as you can’t bring yourself to look at him, your brain beginning to melt out of your ears, overwhelmed by his words. at your lack of response, he continues to speak.

“hey. can’t you tell me that you like me too? please?”

when you keep on being silent, he clicks his tongue, before letting out a disappointed sigh. “aw, come on” — he playfully pouts — “isn’t, ah, aren’t i doing a good job? fucking you so deep? you really gonna be mean to me even when i’m taking care of you?”

for the third time you don’t respond, he laughs softly. bringing his lips to whisper into your ear, giving the lobe a nibble, he warns, “if you keep quiet… i’m gonna stop.”

this time, you actually decide to listen, but not without some internal deliberation. after a few passing moments, you eventually muster up the courage to say what you’ve buried under a lifetime of childish attempts to be noticed.

“i… like you too…”

“what was that?” he asks, a giddy grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

your brows furrow as he kept on teasing you, despite giving him what he wanted. “izuku,” you whine again, now begging him not to make you repeat yourself.

“i didn’t hear you,” he chides, his pace threatening to get slower. “come on, just let me hear you properly.”

you fuss, desperate not to lose your approaching high, thus speaking louder. “i like you…”

“oh, good girl,” izuku says, the praise coming out as a moan, watching as your face gets even more red. sweat pills down his forehead as he speed up again, beginning to get lost in ecstasy, and you can feel the heavy swollen balls slapping against your ass tensing up. “you like my dick inside you? like the way i — fuck — say dirty things to you?”

“stop,” you whimper, not able to handle his teasing as pleasure threatened to also push you over the edge.

“you gonna cum? gonna,” — he hides his face in your neck, his pace sputtering — “gonna, fuck, cream on my cock?”

you nod fervently, toes curling as your orgasm crashes down on you, a moan ripped out of your throat when it does. with one last final thrust, he soon joins you in your euphoria, hilting himself as he cums, only to quickly pull out, and making sure to grip the filled condom by the ring to keep any semen from spilling out.

throwing the used rubber into a trashcan, he finally collapses besides you, and the two of you lay there next to each other, limbs splayed, chests heaving to catch their breaths, letting your minds quietly grasp the idea of what you’ve just done.

thighs quivering from the aftershocks, a warm floaty sensation spreads throughout your body as you truly comprehend the fact that you just lost your virginity to the boy you've liked all throughout your life— and that you took his too. however, a pang of guilt for your past behavior as well as a fear of opening up soon overwhelm you, cutting through the sweetness of the moment, making words tumble out before you’ve thought them through.

as you turn your head to look at him, you see that he was already looking at you, a pattern that feels all too familiar tonight. keeping your eyes downcast, you mumble, “i didn’t mean whatever i said, by the way. i was just…” but the words trail off as you don’t have a good excuse ready.

seeing right through your self-sabotage, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close to him, offering you a soft smile. “i did. meant every word,” he whispers tenderly, before pausing momentarily to study your demeanor before speaking again. “if you ever want to talk about what you said… just know i’ll be waiting. and i’m okay with waiting.”

another moment of silence falls between you two. too tired to move away from him, you rest your head on his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his lungs. then, eventually, you break through the quiet, your voice timid and vulnerable in a way he hasn’t heard it in a long time.

“did you mean what you said? at the party?”

“what do you mean?” he asks, swiping away a stray hair out of your face.

“about…” you sigh, wishing he could just read your mind, “the sort of girl you like. or was that just to… mess with me?”

as he recalls what you are talking about, his smile deepens to a grin, his hand playing with the ends of you hair as he speaks. “you got worried?”

“can you just answer the damn question?” you whine, your hand swatting his chest— but not enough to hurt him.

he laughs, taking your assaulting hand into his. “i don’t have a specific type, no. it’s more like, i have a specific person on my mind all the time and i was just describing her. does that make sense?”

you go silent hearing his answer, taking a moment to truly wrap your head around what he was saying.

with no smart remark awaiting him, he speaks again.

“are you free friday? would you want to go get lunch or something? i’ll pay.”

your face turns up to look at his, gauging the seriousness of his proposition. but, then, you look back down, letting out a huff.

“well, if you fall in love with me or whatever, just know it’s your fault.”

“i’ll take full responsibility,” he says, chuckling.

you watch as the interviewer’s expression shifts— eyes widening in surprise as he glances at his cameraman, collective gears turning in sync about who was on the phone and who you were as well. you, on the other hand, just rolled your eyes at the overly formal greeting — definitely a habit from too many work calls — and held the phone closer to the mic to pick up the conversation properly.

“hey,” you breathe.

a chair creaks from his end, as if readjusting his posture, sitting up a little straighter. you can practically hear the annoying ass smirk spreading across his face.

“hey, you,” he says, “what’s up?”

“what are you doing saturday night?”

“saturday? nothing much,” he hums. “hopefully you, though.”

your brow twitches. “you’re funny,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes. “i wanna go out for some sushi. will you be available, or do i need to ask katsuki?”

“katsuki?” he laughs, the sound carefree despite your subtle threat, “are you with somebody right now, sweetheart? you’re not usually so mean to me. what’s with the attitude, huh?”

“there’s no attitude,” you shoot back, trying not to scoff otherwise prove his point, “and i’m not with anybody. you wanna go or what?”

he lets the moment linger, savoring every second of this. “can you ask any nicer?”

you glance towards the interviewer, the promise of $100 dangling just out of reach. you click your tongue, before drenching your voice in a syrupy sweetness.

“izu,” you coo, “do you wanna go out on a date with me?”

god. you were already dreading that stupid, inevitable smile of his come saturday. well, at least the following post-date, pent-up sex back at his place would make up for it. with that same godforsaken smirk all too audible through the phone, he answers, “yes, of course.” there’s a beat before he adds, “but i’m picking dessert.”

mumbling out a quick agreement, you say your goodbyes, and promptly hang up— your face is warmer than you’d like when you turn back to the influencer for debriefing.

when the video drops later that week — everywhere, from social media to news segments — people can't help but eat it up. clips of you being unexpectedly snippy with the fellow pro-hero, commentary about how different you were from your usual composed image, edits highlighting how teasingly cheeky and hot number one pro-hero deku sounds—

none of that is the worst part.

the worst part is saturday night— sitting across from izuku, and watching that already-forming grin as he leans forward slightly and asks,

“so… i hear you have a crush on me?”