perfectly imperfect

you won’t take the lead though,  because he is izuku midoriya. he is the most perfect man you have ever laid eyes on, and you are terrified of messing something up now that he’s here with you. you want him to take the lead, above all else, because it’s impossible for him to mess up with you — you’ll take whatever he wants to give, suddenly so desperately needy for him to have his way with you. even if he simply wanted to speak to you and nothing else, you would take it. you’d listen to whatever he wants to tell you. 

his eyes are staring at your lips as though you are the lifeline of the two of you, and your body flushes with heat that centers itself in your belly, erupting into some kind of feral flight of butterflies at the idea that he finds you special enough to want to hold onto you. 

scratch that, there aren’t  butterflies in your belly; they’re bloodthirsty bats who want you to bite and lick the thick fatty muscles across his whole body.

you’re not usually so wicked in your desires, but he is being too slow in his advances — you have weeks worth of shy conversation to catch up, so why not slam all those words into one big act of selfish intimacy? or ten. you wouldn’t mind going overboard. this water is tempting.

he’s been looking at your lips too much now, and you’ve been looking at his, and you think you might lose your head if you don’t feel his mouth on yours within the next minute.

but you don’t want him to think it’s only sex you want. because it’s not. even if your mind is screaming for you to jump him. you want him, period. all of him. whatever that would entail — you could handle it. as long as he never ignores you again. 

so you lift the hand you hold in yours, feeling the calluses of hard work as you hold his fingers in front of your mouth and press your lips to his knuckles. his eyes flicker down to his hand against your lips, and his smile turns a little shy. 

“you’re soaked,” you mutter against his fingers, more for your own benefit than his comfort, eyes fluttering as you look at the outline of the thick muscles of his chest, a furious blush rising on your cheeks. you want him to take off his shirt, and the fact he wants you as much as you want him makes you feel powerful and bold, and you really, really want to feel his skin under your fingers. 

izuku studies you, hungry gaze slitted as he takes in the silent request. he’s patient with all of this, but he catches on, thank heavens. 

slowly, he slips his hands away from you and wrings the wet shirt over his head, and you think you may need to step into another room to take a breather or to drink a glass of water, or to touch some fucking grass, because he is so unfathomable and beautiful and so horribly thick that you don’t even know what to do with all of him now that he’s been given to you. 

his gaze descends to your tank top, your heaving chest, down to your bare thighs, before they come back up to linger at your hips. he takes liberties, sensing in the air that you’re game for whatever he wants to do with you, and he reaches for you. big hands pull you in by your waist, and tentative as you are, you stumble into him, palms slapping against the damp, hot skin of his chest. 

you think you see the heat of a blush on his cheeks as his nose brushes yours, a drunken smile on those pretty pink lips, his hands sliding down to your hips, fingers tugging at the hem of your top. you lift your arms to let him slip it off of you. 

his fingers are delicate as they find your bare waist, brushing over the skin as he slowly takes a hold of you. goosebumps shoot across your body as he holds you close, and you look up at him through your lashes, wondering if he can see how bad you want to kiss him.

he lifts your chin with gentle fingers, tilting your head a tad backward with those calloused hands that are capable of such power, and he looks at the shifting emotions in your eyes for a moment before his mouth presses against yours. your eyes slide shut, savouring the sensation of his warmth against yours. sweet, short. 

your mouths part slightly, but not a moment later he has your lips against his again. smooth, velvety — you don’t see stars, but you feel the bloodthirsty bats in your belly flapping their wings throughout your entire body. 

the shift of his hands turn less timid as he lets perhaps a sliver of his desperation take over, large hands gripping your waist, drawing you up against his chest, tongue parting your lips as you both fall into a rhythm. your own hands support yourself on his biceps, and the feeling of his hot, damp skin and thickly wired muscles warps your wistful mind into precious cotton, all sense of the world around you leaving with all notion of any sort of shame. 

one of his hands move up, sliding over your shoulder, fingers descending into the hair at the back of your neck, gripping it and setting your body ablaze with longing. it’s more than a longing, but you don’t have the mind to dwell on what it is that truly simmers between the two of you, and you definitely wouldn’t have dared hope either way. he is izuku, after all. the great deku. the one. the largest and brightest star in any universe you want to know of. 

the deceptiveness of his innocence flickers, the hand on his waist slipping down to grip your plump ass, forcing your body closer to him, the hand at the back of your head taking charge of your entire frame. 

to stand within his embrace, to feel even a hint of the strength that truly rests under that calm and sweet exterior is exhilarating, and while you don’t want pain, you don’t want him to hold back too much either. you feel him smile against your lips, as if the way your fingers tighten on his flesh  gave away your thoughts. 

to your great mortification and alleviation, the hand on your ass slides up to the clasp of your bra, and while it impresses you it also send your mind whirling how he so expertedly releases your breasts from their holder with one hand. the release of tension on your shoulders and chest gives you a sudden sense of falling, a dread rushing through your veins. he is so familiar with this action that he must have done it over and over; what if you are not up to his standard? you are not the most confident in your body, you often see more flaws than anything else, and thus those flaws must be visible to him too.

and he isn’t as shy as you have made him out to be within your mind’s eye. he parts from your lips, he leans back and he slips your bra down your arms, and he curses under his breath as your nipples tighten in the chill of the air. 

his hands aren’t nearly as timid when he reaches out to grip your waist, pressed against the underside of your boobs, eyes lit with some rough possession as he stares at your bare torso. a shudder rips across your skin as his thumbs stroke over your tits, over the pert peaks, and any doubt you might have had seemed to fly away with your exhale. his big palms cup your breasts, as though he too can’t seem to understand this is happening. 

“fuckin’ beautiful,” he mutters, as though enchanted, his dark gaze finding yours again. you’re exposed, and you don’t find that to be the most comfortable of experiences , but it strokes your confidence and so you manage to keep from covering and hiding. you do blush though. 

one of his hands find your neck, your jaw, tilts your head up as his lips hover above yours again, and you grow dizzy when he says, “you’ve been hiding all this from me, hm?”

it’s yours, take it. i’ll never hide again, you want to say. you don’t because your words fail you and you don’t dare mess anything up. 

your shy fingers find his strong stomach, ghosting over the skin and muscle there with deliberate tardiness on their way up to his chest. your feel the scars, the evidence of the hard life he lives, the life he makes look so effortless and valiant. 

you can’t get yourself to look directly at his scars but you map them out, taking notice of how he tenses slightly, how he watches you intently, how he lets you do what it is you wish to do. 

“did they hurt?” you don’t actually dare to hear the answer, because you’re deep in him now and you fear his pain might easily become yours, and you’re no good with pain. 

“i don’t remember,” he says, voice soft and warm, even while tinged with somber memories. his thumb brushes over your cheek. “probably.”

“i’m sorry.”

his brows lower. “no fault of yours.”

“i mean…” you trail off. you feel guilty. “i was mad at you. you don’t deserve that.”

“i fight my battles because i choose to. i hurt your feelings by choice as well, even if it was not intended to hurt.”

“but you are someone important. i’m not.”

his eyes search mine. “do you honestly believe that?”

“that you’re important?”

“that you’re not.”

“i… of course. you’re a pro hero.”

“baby,” izuku breathes, shaking his head, and you are thankful for the hold he has on you, otherwise your knees might give out. “you are someone.”

“not someone special.”

“you’re special to me,” he mutters, brushing his nose against yours. “and i’m going to show you just how special you are,” he tenderly smiles against your lips, a little cocky now, as though he knows he’s going to show you the stars you’ve envisioned. 

he kisses you again, deeper, stronger, and his tongue slides against yours, and you shiver and sigh through your nose, standing on your tippy toes, afraid you can’t get close enough. through your kiss he lets out a scoff of a laugh through his nostrils at your efforts, and you blush, but he doesn’t let you grow shy — he holds you tighter, slides his hands down your back, fingers dip into the hem of your soft shorts. 

parting from your lips, he suddenly removes his hands from you, only to bend down and pick you up by the back of your thighs. you startle, you want to protest, afraid you’re too heavy, but he lifts you up and you wrap timidly around him with a small, shy laugh as he carries you toward the only other door within the apartment — your bedroom. 

his lips are on yours again by the time he drapes you across the slightly chill fabric of your bedsheets. he leans over you, one knee on the bed between your legs, hands on the sides of your head, holding himself up. 

then, he kisses your jaw and down the sensitive skin of your neck, and it’s almost painful how your skin blossoms into goosebumps in the wake of his soft kisses. 

everwhere his lips touch, the skin stings with cold when the soft flesh of his mouth leaves your skin. 

“i’m going to make it up to you,” he promises against your sternum. 

“for what?” you breathe. 

“for making you feel like a nobody,” his kisses trail down to your chest, eyes flickering up to take in your expression and you’re happy to see he’s blushing just as you are. “when the truth is that you are the only body—” his lips brush your nipple, “i care about.”

you can’t reply, can’t think to form word even if your butterfly bats run wild within you at his words — his damp lips close around your nipple, his tongue drawing a slow circle around the peak, and your back arches, chest presses up toward him. oh, sweet, dreamy electricity pulses through your body. 

he stays there, and there is such pleasure from the gentle slide of his tongue over the sensitive bud, but there is also a painful ache. a longing that has been building up far too long. you adore the sight of him, your whole body loves his mouth on your breasts, but its not enough. there is something wicked inside you that craves more. 

even if you think to yourself that you are already heaving for breath at his mouth on your skin, how on earth will you survive the feeling of him inside you?

“i have wanted you,” he confesses, “for a long time. i just didn’t have the balls to do anything about it.”

he has the balls now, that’s for sure. 

you can’t breathe. 

“i thought for sure—” his lips trail kisses to your other breast as he whispers the inner workings of his mind to you. “you just found me annoying. had i known you were pining same as me…” his wet lips press kisses around your nipple. “i wish i could say i would have had the balls, but i still probably wouldn’t have,” he scoffs, and you want to laugh with him, you want to make him see you find it endearing that he’s not a cocky bastard who assumes. the very thing he thought you didn’t like about him was the thing that made you fall for him in the first place. 

brilliant, considerate  pro hero deku who seems unable to decide whether he is bold or timid. 

all you can get yourself to do is reach up and run your fingers through his thick, dark, dark green hair. you grip the hair at the back of his head, delicately, and tug ever so slightly, and while your demure takes away any domination in the movement, he still sighs and latches onto your nipple again, before he lets his lips travel down your stomach. 

he drapes himself over you, coming back up to your face, and you lok at him in a soft haze. 

“i want to make you feel good,” he whispers against your lips. “can i do that?” 

“yes,” you whimper. “please.”

he kisses you, soft and firm and steady as his hand takes hold of your shorts, and you’re so dazed you eagerly help him rid of the remaining clothes on your body. you hardly feel the cold air, his warm body pressing against yours again.

you can hardly piece together a thought as his firm hand finds your bare hip, slowly slipping down your thigh, and when it reaches your knee, he hikes your thigh up on his hip, and you sigh against his lips when he grinds his clothed cock against the apex of your thighs. 

he lingers there for a moment, letting you feel him through his sweatpants, a warning and a promise of what’s to come. then he lowers your knee enough to slip his hand between your body, as the arm holding his weight by your head, slides under your head, embracing you as his fingers between your bodies  find your wet, soft folds. 

your breath hitches in your throat as his fingers slowly drags through the wetness, from bottom to the top, putting delicious pressure against your clit, enough that your hips curve upward toward him, a silent demand for more. 

his fingers move slowly but surely, imprinting the memory of the feel of you into his mind. he takes his time, watches what makes your body react, watches to see what you like. 

when his long middle finger slide into you, your eyes rolll back. it’s not so much the very feeling of him inside of you (even if that too feels like some sinful blessing), but the very fact it’s him. the very fact he yearns for you too. the very fact he is so beautiful and he finds you beautiful too. and he’s so hot. it’s enough to ignite you on its own, but now he’s added matches, and fuel, and wood. 

he groans at the feeling of you clenching on his finger. he slides in and out, as slowly as he moved prior, feeling you and recognizing you, taking note. he kisses your throat as he adds a second finger, and now you’re close to blacking out from the sensation pressing against your insides alone. 

but you cannot blackout, because the sun is right above you, staring at you with glowing, half-lidded eyes, eclipsing the whole of your horizon. 

you don’t see stars, but you feel like the very ether floating between them. it doesn’t feel like you have shape, but his fingers paint it out for you, and as his digits curl inside your soft, wet walls, your body shudders into existence once more. 

a breathy, whiny moan leaves your lips as the pads of his fingers press just right against the sensitive tissue, your fingers gripping onto his biceps with vigor, hips grinding against his hand. the sun sees everything its light touches, and your every reaction is catalouged and utilized. 

izuku curls his fingers perfectly, and you gasp and gape and you can’t keep your eyes open, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you ride his hand from where you’re laying. 

“you like that?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, and you clench down on his thick fingers, feeling once more that wicked desperation growing within you, overtaking all forms of shame. 

you can’t get yourself to answer, your throat barely able to let out the moans and whimpers his fingers are begging for, but you whine and nod your head. 

“use your words, baby,” he demands softly, and everything shimmers extra bright for a moment. 

“yes,” you gasp. 

“good girl,” he says against your ear, and everything goes blinding white for a moment, and you’re suddenly on the edge of an orgasm. 

“oh god, fuck—” you cry, as it builds and builds, and his fingers are steady as they curl against that sponge inside me, the slurping sounds of your wet pussy echoing between your bodies. 

something snaps inside you, throwing you right into the depths. your body tightens, clenching around his fingers, all sound stuck in your throat. 

he kisses your throat as you lean your head back, body curling against him as his fingers still work your cunt, a shameless cry leaving your lips. 

your eyes are open, yet you’re only seeing lights and darkness against each other, fingers dug so deep into his skin that you’re sure you’re about to add to his collection of scars, but you cannot get yourself to care. 

slowly, he calms his fingers, though he watches you like a man starved — his hunger is insatiable, and this was not even an appetizer. he doesn’t want to stop, you realize, but there is something more you both want. 

he makes quick work of his pants and his boxers, and you wrap around him desperately as he lays himself on top of you again. you feel his hardness against your opening, but he kisses your lips, licks into your mouth, and you moans at the feeling of him. you take notice of every single inch where his strong body touches yours. 

“so pretty,” he breathes, gathering you to him, wrapping an arm around you, holding you like something precious to him. 

you whimper, slightly overwhelmed by the feeling of being wanted. 

“i’ll take care of you,” he murmurs against your lips. somehow, you’re certain he means more than just right now. you’re almost positive he means to take care of you for a long time, in all ways. 

“izuku,” you breathe, because it’s the only thing that makes sense to you and it’s the only thing you want to say. 

he groans, one hand gripping your thigh, lips devouring yours again. he lifts your knee again, hikes it up on his hip, and the tip of his cock presses to your folds. 

“i’ve wanted you for so long,” he sounds as breathless as she feels. “i’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” his voice is like a deep velvet, wrapping you in comfort as he waits for you to nod your head. your pussy is so wet it takes almost no effort to bully his tip inside, even if he is big and you gasp softly, gripping onto him like the lifeline he is. 

“shh,” he comforts you, whispers soft confirmations in your ear, and you can’t understand how you got lucky enough to have a reality such as this. 

bright and blinding izuku, who is a sunrise that hardly fits in your sky, but he’s here and he’s vibrant. 

slowly, he presses further, the thickness of him almost unbearable, but in the good way. it makes you wonder how it is possible to feel so good, so right, so delicious. it shouldn’t be. 

he slips back, pulling a soft moan from your lips as your eyes meet his as he settles deep sindie you again, your lips parting further. he lets out a shudder at the sensation, and he watches you, holds your gaze as he drives into your with slow, deep strokes, making sure you feel every inch of him. 

he’s not all the way in, he can't fit it all, you can feel it, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

you’re in love anyway. 

he kisses you, warmly and softly and lovingly. 

“i’m sorry,” he mutters after having pressing the thick length of his cock into the depth of your overly sensitive walls and then stilling, and you don’t have half the brain to ask whatever he’s sorry for—

he pulls his hips back, and slams them back against yours, bottoming out with a force that sends your head into the clouds, stars right into your eyes. they’re all you can see as he sets a pace, thrusting his cock into your gummy walls with the ferocity of a man whose hunger cannot be quenched no matter how much he indulges in.

you can hardly make a sound, all noise stuck in your throat as your body struggles to decipher the pleasure he provides as he pounds into you. 

“oh fuck,” he moans breathlessly in your ear, and it triggers something profound within you — you need yo hear that sound again. your pussy clenches all on her own, clamping down around him, sucking him back into yourself.

he groans at the feeling, head hanging against your shoulder as he grips the underside of your knee, pushing it up toward your chest, giving himself more leverage. his grip on your leg is iron, but it is nothing short of wonderful. 

you moan at the pulsating waves that shudder through your body, fingers digging into his back, terrified that if you let go, you will fall into a million pieces. he is so big, so broad and all-encompasing, he may as well have been breaking you in two, but you never wanted it to stop as your hips involuntarily moved up to meet his thrusts. 

“fuck, baby, do that again,” izuku frowns deeply, pushing himself up enough to look down at his cock thursting into your cunt. 

as you lift your hips, grind them up against him, his lips part as his eyes stay locked on the mesmerizing sight of your little pussy sucking his big cock in, your hips moving so sweetly against his — he groans, gripping the underside of your thighs and pushing them up to your chest. he leans up, sitting on his knees as he hold onto the very upper part of your thighs, thrusting into you, unable to look away from the sight of him inside you. 

from the look in his eyes alone - the inability to fathom the pleasure and emotion of this reality - you feel your body curl as you’re slowly inching onto that edge again. 

the sound of his hips slapping against your skin fill the room, the slurping of your wet pussy, the breathless moans and whimpers. 

“god, you’re so fucking perfect,” he he utters like a devotion, like he can’t believe what he sees is real. 

your eyes roll back again, and he notices because of course he does — he presses your knees to your chest and leans forward, pounding so hard into you that you think you shouldn’t be able to do anything but fall apart. 

you do — you fall apart in every good way you could ever imagine. 

you’re frozen, body unable to curve and curl under his grip anyway. you gape, feeling the relentless tremors of your orgasm crashing through your body, and you slowly let out whiny cries from the blinding lightning that strikes through your veins with each of his deep, powerful strokes inside you. 

he slips out of you, and he uses his hold on your thighs to turn your over, and even as sensitive as you are, you get onto your knees and elbows as he tugs you back toward the edge of your bed. he stands behind you.

“fucking hell,” he curses, hand running over the flesh of your ass, making your pussy clench.

“look at you,” he marvels. 

he runs a finger up your slit, and you arch your back downward, ass pushed up to meet his finger. “prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.”

he pushes his dick back inside you, and you can do nothing but grip the sheets beneath you in a white-hot grip as the overwhelming feeling of him pressing against the sponge deep inside you threatens to make your body collapse. 

the pace he sets is almost gruesome, his grip on your hips so ferocious you can’t help but press your ass back on him to feel more of it. you don’t want him to hold back. shy or not, you want him to take what’s his. 

he let’s out a rough laugh as he leans forward, grabs a hold of the back of your neck, and pounds into you. you cry out, and he slams into you over and over and over and you can barely find a single thought within your mind that is not about his cock or his hands or his whimpering whines. 

taken over by a soft tremor as you lean up onto your hands and turn your head so you can meet his eyes while you grind your ass back on him, wanting him to see just how bad you want him.

he blushes as you lock eyes with him, but whatever shyness he feels, it doesn’t deeter him. 

his grip slips to the front of your throat, and he tugs you up toward him, holding you firmly as he thrusts up into you, your back arched almost painfully as he forces you back against him. you gasp at the change of angle, and the way he wraps his arm around your waist. you grip his hands desperately. 

“oh, you wanna fuck me, baby? is that it?” he all but whimpers in your ear, and you moan shamlessly at the sound he makes, pussy clenching on his cock at the very thought of sitting on his dick, threatening to throw you into the open arms of another orgasm.

“yeah?” he breathes heavily, and you nod desperately. you can feel by the way his hips shutter slightly that he’s close to cumming as well. 

he slips out of you and you whine at the loss of fullness, and he turns you around, gathering you to him as he shifts to sit on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. you straddle his lap, breathless and face flushed as he places a firm slap to your ass, making you jerk forward, leaning on him. he reaches for his cock, pushing it up agaisnt your folds. 

you sit up on your knees, hovering above his lap as you slowly take his dick inside. your head rolls back as you lower yourself onto his fat cock. you can just barly see his forrowed brows, his parted lips, as his hands caress your hips, thighs and waist as he watches you. 

as you sit yourself firmly down in his lap, taking almost all of him, you curve your back and press your chest towards him. he sucks your nipple into his mouth and your pussy grips onto his dick like a vice, and he moans against your breast. 

you’re determined to hear more of his whimpers, and so you lift your hips, and lower them again. the tremor that runs through your body from the motion makes you think perhaps you will bend first with this kind of pleasure, but you’ve set yourself on a mission and you desperately want to make him cum. 

it takes a few moments to find the grind and pace you like, and you can’t help gripping onto your other boob, taken over by the dreamy, soft and tense feeling in your body. 

you bounce in his lap as he gapes at the sight of you, breathing heavily as he grips onto your hips with desperation. 

“that’s it, baby, move those hips,” he encourages. “fucking god—”

you support yourself on his shoulders, focusing on the way his hips shift under yours, his heavy breaths turning into incoherent little cusses, no doubt about to cum. 

“yeah, come on, fuck me,” he begs, head falling back. “you’re doing so fucking good, baby,” he murmurs, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you. 

you cry out, feeling yourself tumble over yet another orgasm as your body trembles on top of him, gripping him so tight it was impossible it wouldn’t leave marks. 

“shit,” he hisses. “that’s it, baby, that’s it.” 

you shudder atop of him, but his thrusts are erratic. he’s close. 

“fuck, you’re gonna fucking make me cum too,” he grips you tighter. “oh my god, fuck—”

his hips shudder, and his cock swells inside you, and you slow your movement a little, shifting to slowly ride out both of your orgams, even if every nerve ending within you is fried and you cannot feel your toes. 

he lets out whimpers under you at the way you still ride him, and you’re reignited. 

lifting your hips, you lean forward onto him, focusing solely on the movement of your hips, grinding your pussy up and down his throbbing shaft. 

izuku grips onto you. 

“oh my god, oh my god, oh—fuuuuck,” he whimpers, and you bite the side of his throat. his hips tremble under you, his hands on your hips brutal, but he doesn’t stop you. 

he shudders. “fuck, fuck, fuck, please,” he begs, and you can tell he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, his turn to see stars and taste the white-hot flame of oversensitivity. 

it almost hurts to move, your insides so well used and beaten, but you are sick with some insatiability that won’t let you stop. 

his words turn to incoherent strings of cursewords and begging and whimpers that curl around your body. 

you sit up, bouncing fully on his dick again, reaching down to rub your clit as you take him. the filthy squelching between your hips echo, and your fingers press into the mess on his lower stomach every time she lowers on his cock, middle finger rubbing such heavenly circles on her clit, eding herself onto yet another orgasm. 

he watches almost breathlessly, hips shaking so bad beneath you that he appears to be thrusting all over again. the way he writhes, the cries for mercy that leave his lips, tell you that it’s not the case; he is no longer in control of himself. he could have simply tipped you off of him, could have easily stopped you. 

it can only mean he likes this. 

you’re exhausted, you’re well spent, and you don’t know where you get the energy from, but you leans forward, whispering in his ear. “you like that, baby?”

he all but crumbles under you, not a single word making sense, as he tenses impossibly, hips thrusting up into you as he cums again. 

the sight sends you into your own orgasm, and this time, he grabs your hips, holding you still on his lap as you pulse around his dick. he shudders, eyes closed tightly as he holds you. 

you can hardly keep your own eyes open, and you slump forward. he catches your body, efficiently lifting you off of his dick with a soft moan, and he lays you down on your bed, before sliding down to lay flat on his back next to you. 

your eyes are closed, your breath heaving, your legs tense and painful, your pussy throbbing. he is just about the same, but he finds the energy to put his hand on your thigh. 

in the cooldown, you’re very happy about that very small action of reassurance. as soon as the clarity returns somewhat to your mind, you’re afraid you went too far, but his touch calms you. 

he lays completely still for a long while, until he moves the arm up to curl under your neck and pull you into his side. 

“sorry, baby, i’ll… clean you up later,” he mumbles, half-gone into a dream already. “just gotta…” 

you follow suit, a heap of legs and arms against his chest. he holds you close until you finally dare think to get up from this soft, sweet moment.

big, sweet pro hero deku, who blushes as he fucks you