#hawks headcanons

touchstarved!hawks who melts into your touch the first time you hold him, his whole body going slack as he finally lets himself relax

touchstarved!hawks who preens when you card your hands through his hair, scraping your nails down his neck and in between his shoulder blades. “touch ‘em, baby, please,” he hears himself beg, his wings rustling and fluffing out behind him

touchstarved!hawks who bites back a moan the minute your fingers soothe over his feathers. you’re so gentle, so warm, so perfect. he ruts into your hip before lifting you up and fitting you snugly in his lap, dick pressed against the sopping wet seam of your panties

touchstarved!hawks who can talk circles around anyone reduced to a groaning mess, hardly able to stutter out more than a pititful “feels so fucking good, don’t - ngh - don’t ya dare stop touchin’ me”

aizawa

the first time aizawa realizes something is wrong is when present mic won’t stop laughing at him.

“you look confused,” hizashi yamada says between cackles, nearly falling out of his chair in the faculty lounge.

“i am confused,” shota aizawa mutters flatly.

he’s running on three hours of sleep, two coffees, and the lingering headache of grading essays from class 1-a. he does not have the patience for whatever this is.

mic points dramatically at him. “you seriously don’t know?”

“know what.”

there’s another wheeze of laughter.

“oh my god.”

aizawa stares.

mic stares back.

finally, mic leans across the table like he’s about to reveal state secrets.

“they’re flirting with you.”

silence.

aizawa blinks once.

then twice.

“…who.”

mic looks like he might actually pass out.

“you know who.”

he doesn’t, apparently.

—

you started working at ua three months ago.

recovery girl had retired from most daily responsibilities, and nezu needed someone to help with student support and administrative work. technically, your job involved coordinating schedules, helping students with paperwork, and managing emergency communication.

unofficially, you spent most of your time making sure exhausted pro heroes remembered basic human needs.

which was how this problem started.

“you need to sleep.”

aizawa looks up from his sleeping bag with one eye open. “i did sleep.”

you glance at the stack of papers beside him.

“grading while unconscious doesn’t count.”

“debatable.”

you sigh and place a coffee beside him anyway.

not just any coffee.

his coffee.

black, no sugar, exactly how he likes it.

aizawa stares at the cup for a second before taking it.

“thanks.”

“don’t sound so shocked,” you tease. “i’m starting to think you expect everyone to poison you.”

“i teach teenagers with superpowers.”

“…fair point.”

you grin before walking away.

aizawa watches you go with narrowed eyes.

not because of anything suspicious.

just thoughtful.

—

“they are not flirting with me,” he says later.

mic wipes tears from his eyes. “shota. buddy. pal. they memorize your coffee order.”

“lots of people know my coffee order.”

“they also bring you homemade lunches.”

“because i forget to eat.”

“they call your cat ugly in an affectionate voice.”

“everyone does that.”

“they told you your hair looked nice.”

“…people say things.”

mic stares at him in genuine disbelief.

“you are hopeless.”

—

the thing is, aizawa genuinely doesn’t notice it.

not at first.

he notices you, obviously.

he notices the way you always keep extra bandages in your bag during training exercises.

he notices how students calm down around you.

he notices that you always sit near him during meetings, sliding snacks toward him without comment because you know he won’t get up otherwise.

but flirting?

that never crosses his mind.

because why would it?

someone like you wouldn’t-

well.

he doesn’t finish that thought.

—

it gets worse when class 1-a notices.

“you’re getting married,” denki announces confidently one afternoon.

aizawa doesn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“no.”

“you totally are,” mina agrees. “they made you heart-shaped tamagoyaki yesterday.”

“that means nothing.”

“they literally touched your shoulder and you stopped glaring.”

“…i can stop glaring whenever i want.”

the entire class goes silent.

then:

“that’s terrifying,” sero says softly.

—

you’re completely unaware of all of this.

mostly because, in your defense, you thought your flirting was subtle.

apparently it was not.

“you look tired,” you tell aizawa one evening.

“i always look tired.”

“yeah, but today you look pretty tired.”

he pauses mid-step.

you continue walking beside him casually.

“want me to help with grading tonight?”

“…pretty tired?”

you blink. “what?”

“you said pretty.”

“because you are?”

there’s a strange look on his face.

like his brain just hit a loading screen.

“aizawa?”

“nothing,” he says immediately.

then he walks directly into a doorframe.

—

mic has to physically sit down when he hears about it.

“YOU WALKED INTO A DOOR?”

“yes.”

“oh my god.”

aizawa glares at him from inside his sleeping bag.

“stop being dramatic.”

“you have a crush.”

“i do not.”

“you walked into architecture.”

—

the realization finally hits during a storm.

rain pounds against the ua windows while most students stay inside the dorms for the evening. teachers are scattered around campus, and aizawa is finishing patrol reports in the faculty office when the lights flicker.

a second later, the power cuts out completely.

“great,” he mutters.

“wow,” your voice says from nearby, “you manifested that instantly.”

emergency lights glow dim red across the hallway. you’re standing in the doorway holding two vending machine coffees.

“one survived the apocalypse,” you announce, holding one out to him.

“…you got this for me?”

“well, yeah.”

you smile a little.

soft. easy.

the kind of smile that always makes something in his chest feel strangely tight.

“you looked exhausted.”

aizawa takes the coffee slowly.

“you do a lot for me.”

“someone has to make sure you don’t collapse.”

“you worry about me.”

“obviously.”

you say it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

obviously.

rain taps against the windows.

you lean against the doorway beside him, shoulders brushing lightly.

and suddenly every conversation replays in his head all at once.

the lunches.

the teasing.

the compliments.

the way you always sought him out first in crowded rooms.

the way you looked at him.

oh.

oh.

you glance over. “you okay?”

aizawa stares at you for a long moment.

then, completely serious, he asks:

“…wait.”

you blink.

“you were flirting with me?”

silence.

then your eyes widen so fast it’s almost comical.

“…you didn’t know?”

“apparently not.”

“shota, i literally asked you to dinner three times.”

“…i thought you were being polite.”

you make a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.

“i called you pretty.”

“i assumed you had poor judgment.”

you actually have to put your coffee down because you’re laughing too hard now.

aizawa watches you quietly, feeling oddly warm despite himself.

“so,” you say after a minute, still grinning, “now that you finally caught up…”

you step closer.

“can i officially take you on a date?”

he looks at you.

really looks at you.

and for once, the answer comes easily.

“…yeah,” he says softly.

then, after the smallest pause:

“but i’m choosing the restaurant.”

you grin immediately. “wow. flirting already.”

hawks

hawks had been flirting with you for three months.

apparently.

you just didn’t know that.

which, in your defense, was because hawks flirted with everyone.

the barista downstairs? flirted with her.

random reporters? flirted with them too.

the old lady who sold flowers outside the agency? he called her “sweetheart” so often she started saving the prettiest bouquets for him.

so when he leaned against your office doorway one friday evening and said, “you know, you’d look really good in my hoodie,” you barely looked up from your paperwork.

“probably because it’s expensive.”

silence.

then-

“…ow.”

you glanced up.

hawks stood there holding his chest dramatically, red wings twitching behind him. “that one actually hurt my feelings.”

“you’ll survive.”

“cold.”

“you’re very resilient.”

he stared at you for another second before snorting out a laugh.

“you really don’t get it.”

“get what?”

“nothing.” he waved it off easily, grin slipping back into place. “forget it.”

you did forget it.

mostly because your life was busy enough already without trying to decode whatever strange language hawks operated in.

unfortunately for him, this misunderstanding continued.

—

“i cleared my schedule tonight,” hawks said one afternoon, dropping into the chair beside your desk. “thought maybe i could take you to dinner.”

you hummed absentmindedly. “you finally learned how calendars work?”

“baby, i know how calendars work.”

“then why were you forty minutes late yesterday?”

“traffic.”

“you can fly.”

hawks blinked.

slowly.

“you know,” he said carefully, “most people would hear ‘take you to dinner’ and think i was asking them out.”

“you ask everyone out.”

“i absolutely do not.”

“you told endeavor you’d wine and dine him if he signed your paperwork.”

“that was business flirting. completely different category.”

you pointed your pen at him. “see? impossible to tell.”

hawks stared at you for a long moment before laughing under his breath, shaking his head like he’d just lost an argument with fate itself.

“you’re killing me.”

—

the thing was, you genuinely thought hawks was just Like That.

touchy, affectionate, playful.

you didn’t think anything of the way he always sat too close to you on the agency couch. or how his feathers automatically drifted toward you whenever you were nearby, brushing lightly against your shoulders or wrists.

you definitely didn’t think anything of him bringing you coffee every morning.

or remembering your order.

or texting you at 2 a.m. after patrols asking if you got home safe.

friends did that.

probably.

—

“you’re staring again,” you said without looking up from your phone.

hawks was sprawled across the opposite end of your couch, wings half-open behind him.

“can you blame me?”

“yes.”

“cruel.”

“dramatic.”

“pretty.”

you looked up automatically. “who?”

hawks froze.

then very slowly lowered the soda can in his hand.

“…you.”

“oh.”

“yeah. ‘oh.’”

you blinked at each other.

then you frowned slightly. “wait.”

hawks visibly braced himself.

“were you flirting with me?”

dead silence.

the feather hovering near your shoulder dropped directly onto your lap.

hawks stared at you like he’d just witnessed a natural disaster firsthand.

“…were?” he repeated weakly.

“oh my god.”

“oh my god?” he echoed. “that’s your response?”

“i thought you were joking!”

“i bought you flowers!”

“you buy everyone flowers!”

“not custom bouquets based on favorite colors!”

you opened your mouth.

closed it.

opened it again.

“…the yellow ones?”

“you said yellow reminds you of sunlight,” hawks said, sounding genuinely offended now. “i had the florist make them softer because bright flowers give you headaches.”

your brain stopped functioning for a second.

because.

oh.

oh.

suddenly everything replayed in horrifying clarity.

the hoodies.

the dinners.

the constant attention.

the stupid soft looks he gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“…oh my god,” you whispered again, this time in realization.

hawks fell backward against the couch dramatically, covering his face with one hand.

“i can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“why didn’t you just say something directly?!”

“i called you gorgeous six times!”

“i thought that was your personality!”

“it IS my personality,” he argued, peeking through his fingers, “but it was targeted.”

you started laughing.

really laughing.

hawks looked betrayed immediately.

“don’t laugh at my suffering.”

“i can’t help it,” you wheezed. “you’ve been trying to flirt with me for months?”

“yes.”

“and you thought it was working?”

“i thought you were flirting back!”

you stopped laughing abruptly.

“…i was?”

hawks sat up instantly.

“you absolutely were.”

“how?!”

“you remember my coffee orders. you save me food. you text me goodnight. you patch up my wings without complaining.” he pointed accusingly. “you made me soup once.”

“because you were sick!”

“that’s romantic!”

“that’s basic human decency!”

hawks stared at you.

you stared at hawks.

then both of you spoke at once.

“oh my god, we’re both idiots.”

silence.

then hawks started laughing first.

bright, helpless laughter that filled the apartment.

you joined in a second later until both of you were nearly falling over yourselves on the couch.

“okay,” hawks said eventually, wiping under one eye. “new strategy.”

“which is?”

he leaned closer this time, golden eyes sharp with amusement.

“hi,” he said. “i’m flirting with you right now.”

heat rushed into your face immediately.

hawks’ grin widened triumphantly.

“there it is.”

“shut up.”

“aw, you finally noticed me.” he bumped his shoulder against yours gently. “so. now that we’re on the same page…”

his wings curled slightly around the couch, softer now.

“…can i actually take you to dinner?”

you tried to ignore the way your heart suddenly started pounding.

failed horribly.

“…yeah,” you admitted quietly.

hawks smiled then.

not the polished public one.

something smaller. warmer. real enough to make your chest ache a little.

“cool,” he murmured.

then, after a beat-

“for the record, the hoodie line should’ve sealed it immediately.”

you shoved him off the couch.

dabi

dabi was terrible at flirting.

not because he didn’t know how.

because apparently you were immune to it.

“move.”

you looked up from your phone just in time to see dabi standing in the kitchen doorway holding two convenience store drinks.

“…hi to you too.”

“you’re in my spot.”

you glanced around the empty hideout kitchen. “you don’t have a spot.”

“i do now. move.”

despite the insult, he nudged one of the drinks toward you with his free hand before leaning against the counter beside you anyway instead of making you leave.

you took the drink automatically.

“thanks.”

“don’t mention it.”

this happened constantly.

dabi would insult you, glare at you, invade your personal space, and then do strangely thoughtful things immediately afterward.

he remembered your favorite snacks.

he lit your cigarettes before you could.

he burned anyone who annoyed you into silence with one look.

once, after a mission, he silently handed you his coat because you were cold.

you thought that was just his weird version of friendship.

unfortunately, dabi was under the impression he was being extremely obvious.

—

“you got hurt.”

you blinked as dabi grabbed your wrist roughly, turning your hand over to inspect the cut across your knuckles.

“it’s tiny.”

“still annoying.”

his fingers were warm against your skin despite the staples lining them.

you watched him dig through the medical kit with an irritated click of his tongue.

“you know,” you said slowly, “you’re surprisingly caring sometimes.”

dabi snorted.

“don’t spread that around. ruins my image.”

“aw. you worried people will think you like me?”

“they already think that.”

you laughed immediately. “yeah, right.”

silence.

then-

“…what’s funny?”

you looked up.

dabi was staring at you strangely.

“wait,” you said. “you’re serious?”

he stared harder.

“holy shit,” he muttered. “you really don’t know.”

“know what?”

dabi dropped the bandages onto the counter.

“forget it.”

“no, explain.”

“pass.”

“dabi.”

“absolutely not.”

you narrowed your eyes. “why are you acting weird?”

“i’m always weird.”

“weirder than usual.”

he looked genuinely offended by that.

—

the problem was that dabi flirted like someone who had learned romance exclusively through unresolved issues and bad life choices.

for example:

normal flirting:

you look nice today.

dabi flirting:

“if anybody else touches you i’m setting them on fire.”

normal flirting:

want to hang out later?

dabi flirting:

wordlessly appearing beside you every single night until it became routine.

normal flirting:

i remembered your favorite coffee order.

dabi flirting:

threatening a cashier for getting your order wrong.

you genuinely thought he was just Like That.

mean. intense. weirdly protective.

the possibility that he actually liked you never crossed your mind.

mostly because dabi did not seem like the kind of person who enjoyed having feelings.

—

“quit staring.”

“can’t.”

you glanced up from the couch.

dabi was sprawled across the opposite side, blue eyes half-lidded as he watched you openly.

“that’s creepy.”

“you’re creepy.”

“you literally have a murder playlist.”

“and you listened to it.”

“because it was weirdly good!”

“exactly.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

dabi noticed immediately.

he always noticed.

his gaze lingered for a second longer before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“you should smile more.”

you barked out a laugh. “what are you, eighty?”

“i’m trying to flirt with you.”

the room went silent.

you stared at him.

he stared back.

then he frowned slightly.

“…why do you look shocked?”

“because you just said that like it was obvious?”

“it was obvious.”

“no it WASN’T.”

dabi sat up slowly, looking personally offended.

“i literally threatened a guy for flirting with you last week.”

“i thought you hated him!”

“i DID hate him. because he was flirting with you.”

“you called me pretty once and immediately followed it with ‘don’t let it get to your head.’”

“yeah, to be smooth.”

“that’s not smooth!”

“worked in my head.”

you started laughing so hard you nearly fell sideways off the couch.

dabi looked increasingly irritated the harder you laughed.

“stop laughing.”

“i can’t breathe—”

“i’m serious.”

“YOU’RE terrible at flirting!”

“and you’re terrible at noticing it!”

he pointed at you accusingly.

“i gave you my coat.”

“friends do that!”

“i let you steal my hoodies.”

“also friend behavior!”

“i almost killed a guy because he made you cry.”

you stopped laughing.

“…oh.”

dabi’s expression shifted immediately.

there it was.

that softer look he got sometimes when he forgot to hide it fast enough.

“yeah,” he muttered.

the room suddenly felt warmer than usual.

which was saying something, considering dabi.

“wait,” you said slowly. “you’ve seriously been flirting with me this whole time?”

“unfortunately.”

“for how long?”

dabi looked away.

“…months.”

“months?!” you nearly choked. “dabi!”

“what?”

“you could’ve SAID something!”

“i thought i WAS.”

“by threatening people?!”

“worked for cavemen.”

you laughed again before you could stop yourself.

dabi groaned dramatically, dropping his head back against the couch.

“this is humiliating.”

“a little, yeah.”

“i should burn this entire conversation.”

“you’re blushing.”

“shut up.”

“you ARE.”

blue flames crackled briefly at his fingertips.

“keep talking and i’m leaving.”

you grinned helplessly. “okay, wait. let me get this straight.”

dabi narrowed his eyes.

“you like me.”

“unfortunate but true.”

“and all the staring, threatening, weird possessiveness—”

“flirting.”

“that’s insane.”

“you still like me though.”

you opened your mouth.

paused.

because annoyingly enough, he was right.

dabi noticed instantly.

his grin spread slow and smug across scarred skin.

“there it is.”

“don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“can’t help it. thought i was gonna have to set myself on fire to get your attention.”

“you already do that.”

“fair point.”

for a second, neither of you spoke.

then dabi leaned closer, resting an arm along the back of the couch behind you.

this time, when he looked at you, there was nothing casual about it.

“just so we’re clear,” he said quietly, “i’m flirting with you right now too.”

your face immediately felt hot.

dabi’s grin widened.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

ᨒᨒ ོ ᨒ↟ 𖠰

Who could be calling him? 🫣

Art by me, Manu Kwaracy ~

ᢉ𐭩 𓏲 ˖. ✉️ ⸝⸝. THE GREAT PRETENDERS .ᐟ synopsis . ﹒ . you and your boyfriend keigō takami are both well known pro heroes under the commission, so dates have to be a little more creative than for usual couples. short post . ﹒ . fluff / hawks is my silly ⸝⸝ ft. prohero!reader

♡⠀ 𓈒۫ for some context, being a top hero entails paparazzi, fanclubs and weird ass stalkers who track your breath patterns, which is fine once you get used to it. but adding the variable of being in a relationship? well that's just a call for chaos.

earlier, your dates consisted of underground restaurants, sketchy alleys, and basically anything with some semblance of privacy, but that didn't stop the paranoia of being seen to the point where it became a genuine issue. hawks hated it.

so naturally, he came up with a brilliant solution.

❛ what if we just disguise ourselves?

now, you're a logical person. when he mentions disguises, you think maybe wigs, contacts, a different dressing style, so you agree! trust him! this is your very first mistake.

enter: the clown.

the two of you agreed to meet up at a cute new café that was opening near your apartments. you dress down, with a cheap wig and some different colored contacts. perfectly plain. hawks?

a full clown costume. complete with a red noise, face paint and oversized shoes.

❛ what. are you wearing. ❛ i said come in a disguise!

and in a strange turn of events, you're the one who ends up getting recognized and rumors spread of you and your special clown friend, comparing him to some man named 'mr. smiley'. just great.

hawks is smug for weeks.

❛ can't believe you're cheating on me with a wanted criminal.

so you refuse to let him win this time. the next date? you show up worse. and an unspoken set of rules form, which include: no using quirks to cheat, you have to stay in character the entire date, if civilians want pictures with you that gets you bonus points.

his most notable costumes include: the clown, an extremely convincing old lady (yes with the voice and hard candies and everything), and a mall santa in the middle of july.

it's stupid, it's freeing and most of all? it's yours.

𓏲 ˖. ✉️ ⸝⸝ 𝒊ra's 𝒏otes : god, i love him and hOLY BALLS GUYS 100 FOLLOWERS?? IM CRYING I LOVE YOU ALL, ermmm this is my first time doing a single character drabble typa thing i suppose and it's really fun !! ill defo do more in the future.

all rights reserved to © STRAWBRAKI all of my work belongs to me, do not feed my work into ai, copy or translate without permission.

"Hawks' Green Flags and Red Flags — Part 1"

Hawks is charming without trying, confident without seeming arrogant, and somehow manages to make saving lives look effortless. On the surface, he's the kind of person who could talk his way into anyone's heart with a grin and a wink.

But dating someone like Hawks wouldn't be all sunshine, feathers, and stolen glances.

Behind the easygoing attitude is a man carrying enormous responsibilities, a complicated past, and enough secrets to fill an entire agency. So, what would actually make him boyfriend material... and what might send you running the other direction?

Let's break down the green and red flags this man has, and you can answer by the end of it if you'd still date him.

Things you notice when you first dated the winged pro-hero is how he always does everything fast. Being the man with a title "too fast for his own good", who always finishes his meals seconds after the foods arrives, and how he also catches the enemies right before they could hit the second attack, or when he's always three steps ahead when the two of you are doing a morning jog, and even how he uses his feathers to do some daily tasks to make everything quicker.

Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Hawks, Dabi, Shigaraki x reader

fluff; how they react when they accidentally call you a cute nickname

mainframe_access()

Midoriya Izuku

stops mid-sentence

immediate sputtering, trying to take it back or explain himself

panicked hand flailing, trying to hide his blush, the whole ordeal

eventually gives up and offers a mumbled apology that he didn't mean to let that slip

very nervous you think he's weird now poor baby

this incident keeps him up at night

"You okay, angel-? I-I mean! Uh! I didn't- It just slipped, I-!"

-🎭

BOTH!!!! BOTH IS GOOD!!!

we r doing both.

💌this is nsfw. mdni!!💌

cw for keigo’s: includes somnophilia (previously discussed consent mentioned)

after another long night, keigo could barely stand as he crept through your balcony window, immediately kicking his shoes off and stripping himself of his clothes, hitting the floor with a soft thud. left just in his boxers, he crawled into your shared bed, under the warm covers, and you shifted slightly, wiping your eyes.

“kei?” you asked in an adorable sleepy voice

“hey, baby, another late night..” he said, moving closer as he pulled you against him

“mhmm…” you hummed, already back asleep, lulled into a cozy world of comfort.

keigo chuckled softly, running his hands along your body, drinking in the sight of you. you wore that pajama set he liked, the cotton tank top and matching shorts. tiny matching shorts.

he pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head as you stirred ever so slightly. see, the thing about you is that you were sometimes a sleep talker, and that would include making little sounds and noises. keigo found it endearing, especially when you talked in your sleep, regaining your sleepy words of wisdom to you the next morning.

but for some reason, tonight was different.

while tiny mewls and whimpers fell from your lips, keigo’s cock twitched in his boxers.

“my pretty girl,” he whispered as he climbed on top of you. he kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your pretty, plush, slightly parted lips. “so sleepy, hm? had a long day? me too baby.. i’m sorry i wasn’t home..” he spoke softly into your hair, slowly beginning to grind against your leg.

you had told keigo before that you didn’t mind if he woke you up in this way; in fact, you’d actually find it hot. but you were so peaceful and he was sure that you were so tired, he couldn’t possibly wake you with his own needs.

so he’d get the next best thing

he moved his hips slowly, shaky gasps escaping his throat as he forced himself to stay at a steady pace. was he perverted or were you just this sexy to where he could get off from fucking dry humping your thigh?

he moved a hand to the edge of your tank top, slowly lifting it up to it sat just above your perky tits, and he couldn’t help but take one in his hand, whimpering and whining as he desperately fucked against your thigh.

“fuck, baby, you have no idea how good you make me feel. i’m fuckin’ your leg and i’m about to cum.. fuck, god, fuck, i can’t help it.. feels so good..”

his mind was becoming increasingly dazed, his usual groans and moans turning into pathetic whimpers.

“fuck, baby, can’t- i can’t- can’t handle much more.. feels.. feels real good.. ‘m gonna.. gonna fucking cum..”

as he picked up his pace, your tits began to bounce rhythmically, nearly hypnotizing him as he leaned down, hiding his face in your neck, holding onto you tightly as his orgasm was quickly building in him.

“mmh- gonna- gonna cum, baby.. fuck, just from your fucking thigh.. your pretty.. pretty thigh..”

his orgasm washed over him as his wings twitched, his cock spilling his cum into his boxers (a mistake he would realize in just a few moments) as he thrust against your leg a few more times as he rode out his orgasm.

after having a moment to breathe, he pulled away, his heart beating louder in his chest as you laid there like an absolute angel. he pulled your shirt down, kissing your cheeks a million times before cleaning up in the bathroom and changing his boxers. he immediately climbed back into bed with you, and for a rare time was the little spoon, letting your arms and legs wrap around him.

tomura laid on your stomach, holding you gently (careful to not use all five fingers of course) as you played a game on his switch. both of you were in your pajamas, consisting of a baggy t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. he moved his head under the switch, kissing and nibbling at the sensitive flesh of your neck.

“what’re you doing?” you ask, still focused on your game.

“what do you think i’m doing?” he grinned, fingers sneaking under your shirt, full of hunger.

“jesus, it doesn’t take much for you, does it?” you playfully scoff as you feel him already hard against your leg.

“nah, not at all..” he chuckled as he moved his hips gently, sighing at the light friction.

you and tomura’s sex life was far from dull; with both of you being more on the switch side, it definitely kept things interesting. right now, it seemed like he thought he had a semblance of control, but you were sure to turn the tides on that.

as he moved his hand further up your shirt, you paused your game, grabbing his hand through the thin fabric.

“no,” you hold it firmly. “just keep doing what you were doing. i’m busy.”

tomura raised an eyebrow.

“excuse me?” he nearly laughed.

“you heard me. just do it.” the tone in your voice was enough to make tomura weak in the knees. as much as he hated to admit it, god he loved when you were dominant with him.

he reluctantly began to move his hips against your thigh again, moving his hand outside of your shirt to cup your chest on the other side of the fabric (as much as it pained him).

he bit back his lip to hide his embarrassing whimpers as he desperately ground his hips against your thigh, hoping you would have some kind of mercy on him and just fuck him.

but you didn’t. you acted like he wasn’t even there as you continued your game.

“y/nnnnn…” he groaned as he looked up at you like a wounded puppy, still trying to hide any whimpers.

“yes?” you asked, not looking away from your game.

“please.. this is so..”

“if you don’t like it, why are you still going?”

“well, i-.. it’s just, i’m-“ through all his stuttering, he didn’t stop the quickening movements of his clothes cock against your thigh.

as soon as you looked at from over his switch with a tilted head with wide eyes that held a questioning look, waiting for him to properly answer, he buried his face in your chest, whining against your tits as he only increased his speed, becoming slightly sloppy in his pace.

“poor baby…” you teased, putting the switch down as you ran your hands through his hair.

“j-just.. feels- feels so good- b-but.. but i.. need- need you…”

“i know, i know..” you coo. “but you’re doing so good.. so good for me..” you grin as you watch him continue to lose his resolve, gripping your sides tighter as he fucked against your thigh. “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“yes, fuck, yes, please, please, please, please baby, please!”

any embarrassment tomura held melted away, as all he could think about right now was cumming whenever you said to.

he pulled his boxers down just enough so the pink tip of his cock stuck out, already dripping with precum.

“be a good boy for me,” you hum, leaning down to kiss his head. “i know you can.”

at your encouragement, tomura’s erratic thrusts halted to a stop as his body froze, his cum splattering across your thigh while his body shook, all while you ran your hands through his hair and along his back, praising him sweetly, reminding him how good he was, how proud you were of him.