#kurooh

“hurts?” you parrot disbelievingly, too deep under the spell to feel the burn in your thighs. “‘zuku, know what hurts?”

“no, i know,” he sobs, balls squeezing painfully as the familiar pressure returns to his cock. it’s familiar, but it’s not the same; there’s no cum involved, he’s been drained too dry to give you anything. “l-last time, please. i need a minute to, ngh, relax.”

it hurts. izuku’s cock is practically purple with overstimulation, but he’s too entranced to pull you off himself. when you’d arrived home, tugging at his belt and babbling about what had happened, izuku took a moment to consider if he had any notes on something like this.

villains with these types of quirks have always been rare, and it’s just his luck that one popped up before valentine’s day.

the couch groans from the combination of movement and weight on it, yawning with wear. izuku has never underestimated your strength or sex drive, but this . . you’re bouncy, and he’s wondering if the villain’s quirk enhanced your stamina too.

in a startling display of affection, you grab at his jaw and kiss away his tears, cooing sweet, sensual nothings into his ear. your voice is smooth when you tell him how good he’s doing, how sexy he looks when he’s whining so sweetly. just when he’s thinking it can’t get any better, you hit him where he’s weakest with a sultry murmur of want you to put a baby in me, izuku.

flustered, he can’t help but let out a squeal when you nip at his neck, kissing over previous bites and smatterings of freckles.

“do what you want with me,” he surrenders, verdant green eyes meeting your own. “hah, if that’s what you want, jus’ use me. fuck me, baby.”

BAKUGO KATSUKI.

⟡ you have the misfortune of tracking a villain with japan’s number one hero, the all too explosive dynamight. everything completely unravels during the confrontation, when katsuki’s rushing forward to deliver the final blow. the dastardly villain releases a thick, noxious smoke that fills the air with a sickening sweetness — despite all the coughing and hacking, he manages to subdue the villain until the police arrive, but you never make it back to the agency to regroup.

ridiculous, is all you can think as you’re being folded in half in the back of a company car that’s sneakily wedged in an alleyway. katsuki’s not-so-gentle teeth nip at the tender skin of your thighs, and he doesn’t think twice about the marks that are sure to show up by tomorrow.

“d-deeper, katsuki,” you writhe against the seats, too handsy for his liking. “please, it’s not deep eno—”

“shut it,” he grunts, scowling down at you. his usual expression doesn’t quite have the same effect it usually does, since it’s been mellowed out by the villain’s aphrodisiac like quirk. “don’t you dare tell me how to fuck, got it?”

a bratty huff escapes you, and you make a show of rolling your eyes at him, seemingly unimpressed. “i wouldn’t have to if you’d just do it right. oh, but who am i to judge the number one?”

a vein bulges from his forehead as he listens, crimson eyes seething silently while you continue to lay it on thick. “i guess dynamight can fuck however he wants, even if it’s subpar—”

in an instant, katsuki’s hand is on your throat and applying just enough pressure to force out a gasp from you. that teasing and talking back worked—now he’s really about to come undone, show you just how strong the number one pro can really be.

“can’t take that back now, can you? if you think you can insult me and order me around, oh,” katsuki grinds his teeth, pressing your knees into your chest without taking a moment to appreciate the pretty moan that leaves you. “fuck, you’ve got another thing coming. shut your mouth.”

“make me.”

he can’t seem to recall a time where he’s ever been this turned on—that aphrodisiac quirk’s got nothing on the way you talk to him, challenge him in a way that nobody has before.

katsuki draws his hips back, slow and deliberate in each movement. you were right, he wasn’t giving you his all; but now, he will, and he won’t stop until you eat your words. deeper? harder? faster? if that’s what you’re asking for, he’ll give it to you.

you watch breathlessly, mesmerized by the frustrated scrunch of his face, all because he can’t stop replaying your words in his head. a harsh slap to your clit snaps you out of your daze the moment it lands, stinging terribly.

“let’s work up to that, alright? you’re going to—”

“what if i don’t, katsuki?” you tip your chin up at him, looking down your nose at him. “then what?”

another slap, this time with a little more strength behind it. he disregards everything you just said, getting ready to give you an explosive orgasm you’ll have to work hard for.

“that’s what. now, let’s try that again—you’ll be good and count each slap, unless you want me to spank this slutty pussy raw,” satisfied by the responding clench of your cunt, he arches a brow and smirks. “your choice, brat.”

TODOROKI SHOTO.

⟡ with a new, unstable virus spreading rapidly through japan, scientists are racing to develop a cure. it seems to act like the standard flu, but it affects quirk users differently—shoto ends up with an unusual kind of fever.

“ah, ‘m cumming, sho,” cum squirts from your pussy like a waterfall, and everything’s so overwhelming that you unintentionally push his cock out. “good, ‘s so fucking good.”

sweat coats his face, clinging to the rough scar on shoto’s left side. panting, he sucks in a breath, grasping around for his swollen cock.

“i’m sorry,” his voice cracks once his tip slides through your sticky folds and makes your back jolt off the bed, “it’s just—shit, it’s not enough.”

“a-again? i, hah, don’t know if that’s a good—”

shoto shakes his head, shivering as a thin layer of frost appears on his right cheek; it sparkles brilliantly before melting into droplets of water that drip from his jaw. “i’m still burning up,” it’s completely out of bounds, but the low rasp of his sickly voice scratches an itch in your brain. “see, lovey? can’t even use my quirk to fix it.”

a sigh escapes you, and you spread your trembly thighs one more time. “i might be too tired to drive you to the hospital after this,” you warn.

“i know, but baby,” gratefully, shoto pushes forward, burying his cock to the hilt inside you. his warm hand settles on your lower belly to add some pressure, gearing you up for another explosive orgasm. “i don’t wanna be like this when we go to the hospital.”

he flushes darkly with embarrassment, and the mental image of a tortured shoto rutting into a hospital bed as waves of the fever’s severe effects overwhelm him is enough to make you soften.

once he starts to thrust, developing a rhythm that would put your own fingers to shame, his mouth drops open and he’s babbling incoherently. “ . . always so fucking hot around you, baby. i-it’s not my fault you’re so—haa, shit—so perfect, making me burn up whenever you’re not looking.”

and because being this deep inside you is as close as he can get to heaven, shoto sees no reason to hold back on the honest praise. he’s always been a little shy to express himself during sex, mouth drying up whenever he tries to say something rather dirty, but not now. since his brain is being fried by the heat at the moment, he won’t feel any embarrassment.

“sho, right there,” a breath is punched out of your lungs, and your nails scratch at his shoulders each time his tip kisses your sweet spot. “oh god, ‘m gonna make a mess again!”

his cock twitches and he moans your name, only egging you on. “can’t wait to taste it, darling.”

you fall off the edge, his words serving as the final push. euphoria curls through you, cresting like a wave until the sensitivity becomes too much, bringing you back to earth. abs clenching, shoto pulls out to cover your stomach in white.

in an instant, shoto’s temperature drops. quietly, he shivers against you, huffing into your neck.

“i want to stay like this before we leave.”

“you’ve got ice forming rapidly on your back, sho.”

“it’ll melt if i’m cuddling with you . . could you also rub my back? maybe i just need to sleep it off.”

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU.

⟡ eijirou listened to you specifically tell him NOT to eat the wrapped cookies you had in the fridge and when you left, he did exactly that.

“babe, baby, you feel so good,” cum races down his fingers in creamy rivulets, puddling at the base of his cock. caught up in his fantasy, eijirou flicks his wrist faster, hoping with all his heart to imitate the hot squeeze of your cunt. “s-so pretty when you take me, always so fuckin’ beautiful.”

his voice cracks just as the door opens, and your purse falls to the floor. your boyfriend is spread out on the bed, flushed feverishly and gasping out your name like he’s delirious—it would be the perfect scene to come home to if you didn’t spot two torn cookie wrappers near him.

“eijirou,” you speak his name lowly, catching his eyes and raising a brow. he’s not sure if he should feel awkward or turned on because of your scolding tone, so he just swallows dryly and looks toward you with hooded eyes. “already forgot the speech i gave you? why’d you eat the cookies?”

shame creeps up his neck and makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. grasping for a response, eijirou decides to question you right back. “why’d you have sex cookies in the fridge?”

“they were a surprise for valentine’s!”

oh.

now he really feels dumb for spoiling your plans. perhaps if he hadn’t been so hungry, so greedy, he wouldn’t be embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze.

but the feeling doesn’t last long—your tough face drops into something more sultry: doe eyes and an upturned quirk of your lips that’s sure to finish him.

the mattress sinks under your weight, and you scoot beside him with a self satisfied smile. it’s small and quiet, but a voice in the back of his head tells him maybe you wanted this to happen; you certainly don’t look too upset about it.

“no way, baby,” a hiss escapes him when you slap his cum-stained hand away from his cock, instead choosing to replace them with your own. “am i dreaming? mrs. red riot, are you—”

his narration throws you off, and you choke just kissing his tip. you know eijirou’s surprised and eternally grateful, but damn. “mr. red riot, you’d be quiet if you wanted me to.”

“sorry,” he says earnestly, tensing up to hide the fact that he’s shaking like a leaf when you finally take him in your mouth. “i’ve just—” he inhales sharply as you slowly, torturously take him inch by inch. “i’ve been waiting s-so long for you to come home, babe.”

you swallow, throat squeezing tight around his cock, and eijirou’s clean hand flies to the back of your head, hovering precariously. “i’m crazy about you, all day every day, and the cookies made it worse. ‘m sorry for spoiling the surprise, i didn’t mean to—haa, w-what’re you doing to me? oh, you’re gonna make me—”

it doesn’t take long for obscene slurps and occasional gags to fill the room as you suck eijirou’s cock, spoiling him with each languid bob of your head. it’s too much, and the tension grows thicker in his gut, setting his insides ablaze with anticipation.

he’s hurtling toward his high, jerking his hips up and shamelessly preparing to fill up your throat this quickly—but then, you push yourself off of him. a shudder ripples through his body, and he throws you a pained, wide eyed look.

“why’d you..? baby?”

you motion for him to lay on his back, and he can see the gears in your head turning behind a wicked smile. “might as well draw it out, hm?”

“you’re gonna milk me?”

he’s so cute . .

you want to see him crying.

you hum, “only until you’re begging for me to stop.”

KAMINARI DENKI, ft. SERO HANTA

⟡ an undercover sting at a mysterious village with your work partners doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. the village, out in the far country, has been reported as the one place with the highest levels of quirk activity in japan. little did you know about the fact that this place is home to infectious pollen that makes its way into people via the air, or about its temporary effects on people . .

“what the fuck,” you moan, vision blurry between their faces and intermittent flashes of light. “there’s no way it’s from a plant, it can’t be—”

hanta’s tongue darts out to lick the salt away from his upper lip, and he points a finger toward a passage in the encyclopedia. “the symptoms are, ngh, the same.”

one of your hands works denki’s cock while the other shakily flips through an encyclopedia of germs and the like; hanta’s buried to the hilt inside of you, tan cheeks flushed with exertion.

“can’t you just read after?” denki unhelpfully suggests, blinking back a few tears while sparks of electricity fly off from his blond hair. “let’s just fix—yeah, baby, jus’ like that—fix the problem now and figure it out later.”

“shut it, denks,” hanta rolls his eyes, rocking his hips into you. despite the fact that the three of you are totally naked and in the middle of some kind of threesome, you’re researching what apparently caused this surge of uncontrollable arousal.

things began not long after you arrived in the village, where everything had looked unsuspecting and normal. surely there was a villain lurking around somewhere . . ? why else would there be so much unusual activity, enough to alert the authorities?

“look, they f-found something similar in america,” hanta’s voice wavers uncharacteristically, his own high racing through him with such intensity he doubles over.

“forget about the book,” denki’s begging while pressing dazed kisses to your tits, one hand tossing the book aside and slipping between your trembling thighs. “c’mon, babe. show us what you look like when you cum.”

perhaps this is something to be selfish about — when will an opportunity to fuck your hot coworkers come around again? hanta’s everything you’ve been daydreaming about, with a muscular physique sharp enough to have been cut from stone. denki’s just as attractive, though his features are softer, the result of his constant snacking while on the job or in the agency.

hanta nods in assent, already trailing over the edge. “want you to gush all over me, baby.”

thrashing under denki’s fingers, it momentarily occurs to you that maybe they’re a little too experienced. neither of them were concerned with a threesome when it was suggested, and there’s no mistakes in their almost synchronized movements.

just watching your eyes flutter and roll back is enough to make denki cum with a moan of your name as his cock sprays white. hanta’s pupils probably dilate a hundred times their size at the erotic sight, and his hips begin to stutter as heat races up his spine.

denki, shaking profusely, musters his voice and maintains his hurried pace. “g-good girl, go on ‘n let it out.”

since stepping foot into the village and inhaling that damn pollen, the pro hero’s been getting realistic flashes of thoughts he’s kept locked away for some time. you, on your knees, looking up at him like you’re ready to do more than just please. you, with your pretty eyes full of tears as you lose your mind beneath him.

an orgasm stronger than the lustful effects of any aphrodisiac tears through you, and your cunt bears down so hard it forces out hanta’s own high as well. with all his might, he tries to resist the surge of weakness that hits him and fails—he collapses on top of you, hugging you closely and burying his face in your neck.

loosely, your jaw hangs open and breathy gasps leave your mouth. denki’s sparking with electricity beside you and simultaneously struggling to get it under control. a single yellow spark flies off his body and mildly electrocutes hanta, snapping him back to reality. he jerks against you, sounding exhausted.

“uh. so, um, what’re we supposed to report when we get back?”

TAKAMI KEIGO.

⟡ bless his heart. for valentine’s, he decides to be a silk heart-shaped box of japan’s most expensive chocolate for you. he’d been so focused on finding your favorite flavors along with new ones that he didn’t even realize that he’d purchased sex chocolate.

“it hurts, dovey. it’s s-so painful.”

since sharing the box of chocolates with you, keigo’s been reduced to a pathetic mess who can’t seem to stop shaking when you just barely touch him. vermilion feathers puff up and out at his back, his messy wings conveying the way he’s crumbling inside.

you’re just as hot, skin crawling with a lustful itch only keigo can scratch for you. the frenetic beating of his wings whips up cold gusts of wind stronger than any ceiling fan, and not a single goosebump rises on your skin.

“right there, kei,” you moan, tears gathering in your eyes as he continuously hits your sweet spot. “oh my god, don’t stop.”

as if he’d ever plan to.

he hiccups, face flushed and hair tousled like he’s just returned from some mission out in the wild. softly, with the barest note of urgency, keigo whines out your name and a request.

“dovey, c’mon,” his voice cracks halfway through his sentence, shattered with unmistakable pleasure. “just tell me what you want, and i’ll, ah, i’ll fuckin’ give it to you.”

keigo’s entire body thrums with the need, the purpose, to please you, and his own pleasure hinges on you and your praise. sure enough, you cry out to him, words saccharine and addicting.

“make me cum, kei,” and he doesn’t need any further instruction, not when he knows your body this well. smooth fingers slip between your thighs and work your clit, causing your back to arch when he applies just enough pressure to send electricity through your nerves.

you’re wrapping around keigo’s waist, drawing him in and breaking down his self control easily.

“want me to fill up this pussy, baby? i can do it again and again—” he punctuates his words with harsh thrusts that amplify the clap of skin against skin almost as much as a quirk could, “while you take it like you were made to.”

quaking beneath him, you nod frantically, as if those are the words you’ve been waiting to hear. while he was so vividly illustrating the scene, his wings unconsciously began to wrap around your bodies, a sign of how much he wants it too.

you gasp, eyes squeezing shut with the last image being keigo’s face, twisted in ecstasy and scrunched with concentration. “gonna—‘m gonna cum, kei!”

“with me, dovey, please,” sweat pours down the sides of his face as the heated bliss tightens in his gut, applying an unbearable pressure to his cock. “let me feel you cum around me, ughhh.”

sloppily, keigo presses open mouthed kisses to your lips, and a delighted moan escapes him when you kiss back. your lips are soft against his, and your tongue carries the sweet taste of valentine’s chocolates, the expensive ones he’d come home with earlier.

he shifts, back arching off of the rolling chair with a squeak! he hates having to be quiet, especially when he’s pulling apart at the seams like this. heady, slippery squelches fill the spaces between your bodies where the moans can’t; glossy slick spills onto the papers beneath your ass as izuku maintains a sloppy rhythm, doing his best to keep you satisfied.

“w-we can’t make any noise, ‘zuku. we’re in your office, remember?”

a gooey string of saliva connects your lips to his when you pull away, and izuku finds himself going cross-eyed as he follows it to your mouth. you’re talking to him, breathily whispering something that he should probably listen to, but he’s too caught up in the way your thumb hits the sweet spot on the underside of his cock with every upward motion of your fist. oh, and then there’s the way he can taste the smeared lip gloss at the corners of his mouth in conjunction with the minty gum you were just chewing.

your sweetness turns sour with a light but deliberate slap to his freckled cheek, and it certainly gets his attention. izuku’s looking at you with wide green eyes, shocked not by the roughness but by how much he wants you to do it again.

“i’m sorry,” you say, grinding your hips on his fingers, “izu, are you hearing me? as much as i want you right now, i don’t want you to get fired and blacklisted—”

the word blacklisted bounces around in his head, but at no point does it actually land. “i jus’ wanna make you cum,” he says, feeling his cheek grow hotter under your palm, “i need to—ugh, it’s all that matters to me right now.”

izuku says it with enough fervor to catch you off guard, but it’s his fingers that really make the small speech on your tongue disintegrate. thick and strong, both digits pump into you without missing a beat—you inhale, feeling like the air’s escaping your lungs, and he pushes deeper, until he strikes gold.

“izuku!” you’re the one getting loud now, but with the way he’s hitting your sweet spot like a bullseye, it can’t be helped. “i don’t wanna get it all over your desk . . wait, the papers—right there, ohmygod.”

hearts swell in his pupils as he over-analyzes your reactions. your fist on his cock is much slower now, because of the major distractions, but it doesn’t matter, not when he could cum just from seeing you like this. your nice blouse is a little disheveled, but that’s nothing compared to the shredded pantyhose and soaked underwear he hastily tugged to the side.

had you not insisted on making him feel good too, izuku would’ve put you on your hands and knees on his desk and had his way with you, with the skirt still on. “let me make you cum first, baby. g-god, i wanna watch you fall apart on my fingers.”

you nod, biting down onto your fist. exhilarating euphoria is hurtling at you fast, and everything fizzles into static when it finally hits you, knocking the world off its axis. izuku’s fingers slow as he watches you ride the high, pussy squeezing him too tightly to pull out or away.

a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead catches the light once you come back to yourself, mind hazy with insatiable desire. izuku bites back both a groan and a whimper when you slide off the desk, leaving a glistening trail of cum shining on the wood. “what’re you gonna do to me?” he asks, feeling himself throb when you seat yourself on his bare lap, “‘m sorry, but i won’t last long en—”

in lieu of a verbal response, both of your hands envelop his cock and start to move smoothly. up and down, gently twisting from side to side—izuku’s head drops back, hanging off the edge of the chair. a litany of moans flows out of his mouth, and your eyes follow the bob of his adam’s apple in his throat.

“oh, you have no idea how good you look right now, ‘zuku. i’ve never seen someone look this perfect just from a little—”

“keep talking,” izuku suddenly gasps, and you can feel his cock thickening in your hands, “tell me everything. whatever it is, don’t stop.”

he’s gotten so desperate it’s cute. like always, it never takes too long to get him like this, all hot and heavy and vocal. izuku might be shy sometimes, but even so, he’ll always tell you what he wants and how he wants it.

“yeah, you’re doing so good. i love to sit here and just take care of you, my sweet boy. god, it’s such a treat to love you.”

“oh fuck,” izuku’s chest heaves as it works to breathe, and his body abruptly straightens, allowing the viridescent green of his eyes to meet your own. “tell me you’re mine, baby,” he begs, voice breaking like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “p-please, i can’t get there without it—”

“you know i’m all yours, izuku. you’re all i want.”

with that, he cums hard, letting out a series of whiny moans of your name and desperate gasps for breath that are only silenced when you press a cum-stained hand over his mouth. between you, his cock is still shooting white ribbons of cum, all over his undershirt and onto the front of your blouse. you only notice the mess when he tugs his cock back and his eyes widen at the sight, a mix of guilt and arousal seeping into his expression.

“don’t touch it,” he catches your hands at the last second before you can investigate and get more on the fabric, “kick my pants over here, there’s a napkin you can—shit.”

izuku just watches in awe, jaw dropped, as you tilt your head down and lick the cum off of your skin, all while looking directly into his eyes. as much as it embarrasses him and makes him want to avert his eyes, he can’t—you’ve got him under some kind of spell, and he’s definitely going to cum again just from seeing this. wait, did something more leak out of his cock just now?

“gimme a kiss,” he sighs, closing his eyes as he tastes himself on your tongue. it’s bittersweet, mixed with the mint gum from earlier, and he pulls you into a hug, the cold takeout forgotten on the other side of the desk.

BAKUGO KATSUKI + torturing you

he’s generous—but only if you tell him exactly what you want, and in excruciating detail, much to your impatience and embarrassment.

“i’d keep that attitude problem in check if i were you,” katsuki smirks, seeming proud of himself as he looks at you through the mirror, “i could do this all fuckin’ night, babe.”

an ultra-hot mixture of frustration and humiliation simmers in your cheeks when you push yourself to stare back at him, stubbornly holding your ground. he’ll end up breaking you down, but it can’t hurt to be a brat for a small while—who knows, it might piss him off enough to fuck you like he hates you.

“oh, i could too,” you hiss out in reply, biting back the moan that nearly slips out of you as you feel the head of his cock grazing along your inner thighs, “you’re so greedy, aren’t you? drawing it out like you haven’t been making eyes at me all day.”

“you say that like you weren’t doing the same, if not worse,” katsuki’s tip lightly nudges against your soaked pussy, and he has the audacity to act as though he’s pushing it in, only to pull back less than a second later. “any chance you’ll stop being a fucking brat and use your words instead of grabbing my ass at every turn?”

you scoff, but the sound of disdain fizzles into a gasping breath, and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. looking into the mirror, you see his chin tilted downward as he teases you, each movement more agonizing than what came before. “yeah, you just like being annoying, don’t you? lose the sass or i’ll fuck it out of you.”

“really? you’re not just saying that to sound all dominant?” at your sarcasm, his crimson eyes dart from his hands to your face. he just stares at your reflection crossly, half-turned on and half-pissed that your snark is getting to him. “not sure what to say, huh? if you’d stopped teasing me earlier, maybe you could’ve shut me up—”

in an instant, katsuki’s looming over you, sculptured chest pressed flush against your back. a hand snakes beneath your chin and angles it so that you can look at him in the mirror when he talks, his voice shifting to a low, commanding rumble. “oh, i’ll shut you up. you’re going to sit here and watch me wreck you.”

your hand threads into his soft hair, and you tug hard, enjoying the way his adam’s apple bobs with a barely held-back moan. “so make it fit, katsuki.”

rough palms navigate the planes of your back as katsuki positions himself behind you, lining up his aching cock with your hole. fuck, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s been dying for this—it’s evident in the groan of relief that escapes him when he sinks into your cunt, sliding in easily. his eyes crinkle at the corners as he fully notices just how wet and ready you’d been to take all seven inches of him; you’re wrapped around his cock and pulsing, too tight and velvety for him to handle.

“gonna move yet?” you taunt him, chin propped up on a fist while you watch him in the mirror. he’s got his lower lip flat between his teeth, and he practically spits it out with a huff, glaring at you.

“i thought i would’ve fuckin’ taught you to be a little more patient by now,” and katsuki goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds, his veins singing with adrenaline. he sounds genuinely irritated now, but you could’ve probably gleamed that from the harsh smacks of his hips into your ass. “can’t ever listen, huh? all i was askin’ for was for you to—shit—to tell me what you wanted . . you knew i’d give it to you, like i always do, and yet you chose to mouth off instead.”

you weren’t prepared to feel his tip french kissing your cervix with each and every powerful thrust of his hips; it makes you squeal and try to run away, but to no avail. katsuki’s grip on your waist is bruising and leaves no room for any more resistance, especially after so much pettiness. “w-wait,” you stutter, pushing a pathetic hand between your body and his to curb the intensity, “‘m not ready yet—”

“keep crying,” he snaps, closing his fingers around your wrist. without missing a beat, katsuki tosses your hand to the side and keeps going, eyes burning into yours through the glass. “isn’t this what you wanted? seems to me like you should shut up and savor it, sweetheart.”

it’s cruel and merciless. just the way he’s being rough tells you you’ll be sore all over by tomorrow, but you simply can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop, not when it’s starting to feel like heaven.

a breathless mewl of his name tears out of your throat, and the cracking of your voice is like music to katsuki’s ears. earthquake-like shudders rock your entire body, and he can’t help but coo at you, swiping two fingers through the mess spilling along your skin.

“go ahead and look at yourself, girl,” sticky fingertips press past your parted lips and you start to suck, eyes rolling back at the taste of yourself. “yeah, who’s fucking you like this? tell me whose cock you’re going dumb on.”

you whimper sweetly, keening just as he expected you to. “yours, katsuki. ‘m all yours.”

laden with muscle and taut with fatigue, his chest heaves as he drags in huffs of air. he’s flushed from head to toe and grinning, undeniably proud of his handiwork. you must be drunk on him now, your easy admissions of being his a far cry from your attitude earlier. “keep your arch—ngh, you got it. shit, that’s my girl. taking it like a fuckin’ champ.”

as katsuki watches himself fuck you, no less primal than animals on a safari, amusement strokes through his body. why can’t you just tell him what you want to begin with? maybe the little arguments are part of your fun, he suspects. but, if you want him to be rough and mean, all you have to do is simply ask.

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU + #munch

“if you don’t just sit down and use me, i’m gonna red riot—”

“eijirou!” you whine, embarrassment working its way into your tone, “i’m really not sure about this. can’t i just lay on my back instead of risking breaking your neck or something?”

with a breezy laugh, eijirou shakes his head and lets his palms comfortingly circle your hips to keep you in place. since he’d suggested it in a rush during the ritual of undressing and positioning, you didn’t think too far into it until you found yourself hovering above his face. even with all of his insistence, you are unwilling to break your boyfriend’s neck or nose by sitting on his face—what an embarrassing explanation to deliver to the doctors in the emergency room!

“if it’s absolutely necessary, i’ll lift you up, okay? please, just sit down,” his ruby red eyes are wide and pleading; not even your nervous glare deters him. with a toothy smile, he adds, “c’mon, baby. you’re the one who’ll be in control anyway.”

you almost don’t notice the way he’s tugging you down, closing the gap between your soaked cunt and his mouth. eijirou tries not to get too excited—it might make you think he’s suffocating when he goes quiet—even though his feet are kicking happily at the end of the couch. thankfully, you’re facing away from the lower half of his body, so you also can’t see his dick trying to push out of his sweats.

“ei, oh my god.” the very first slurp of his eager mouth against your pussy takes your breath away and makes you squirm, rocking your hips forward and back. eijirou’s watching your every movement and sorting them by category for his spank bank, all while letting out low, incomprehensible groans.

“oh, this is—it feels so good,” and it does, much more than anything he’s made you feel before. before long, you’re more comfortable on his face and scantly riding his tongue, quickly growing drunk on the way he uses it. “eiji, y-you can’t stop.”

“baby,” he mumbles wetly, before raising you up to stare into your lidded eyes from between your thighs. a red flush has made its way across his cheeks and nearly matches the dyed shade of his hair, but he looks cute like this. “‘m all yours,” gravelly and devoted, eijirou’s voice reaches your pussy before your ears and makes it all the more messy, “you’re the boss now, babe. ride me, choke me, i don’t care. i only wanna keep tasting ya.”

swallowing a whimper, you settle back onto his face and unsurely plant your palms down on the couch for support. you’re a breathless mess, shaking on his tongue as you ride it to get off—eijirou just slurps and slurps, drinking you in without any care in the world. he loves to spoil you, even if it means making you do a little bit of work instead of just laying back. maybe you’ll cum so hard you only ever want to sit on his face again, and then he’ll never ever have any bad days if this is what he can come home to.

“eiji, you’re getting all messy,” you mewl, shameless eyes sweeping over the sticky wetness coating his face. you can see it glinting on his cheeks and even his forehead; he just moans out something like i know, baby and makes a show of winking before diving back in to lap you up like a creampuff. “hah, you—you’re so sloppy, fuck.”

in the moment that you’re trembling, positioning yourself to ride his tongue like it’s the first time you’ve ever had it, eijirou chooses to let his playful streak bubble to the surface. very lightly, his teeth nibble at your swollen clit and this sends shocks of electricity racing up and down your spine like an active power line.

earthquake-like tremors rock your entire body as you roll your hips, focusing on the stars streaking across your vision and the building pressure in your lower body. “ei, ‘m gonna cum pretty soon,” you squeal, digging a hand into his hair while your thighs unconsciously squeeze around both sides of his head. “h-holy shit . . cumming, ‘m cumming eiji!”

eijirou’s absolutely got the best seat in the house. your pinched expression melts into one of pure, unadulterated euphoria as you gush all over his mouth and completely forget about your worries about suffocating him. he helps you grind your hips harder when you chase the high, freefalling over the edge until the sensitivity eventually sets in.

“mmm, that’s it, sweetheart,” lapping at your sobbing folds with renewed vigor, eijirou holds you in place when you try to squirm away, complaining about it’s too much, when in reality is isn’t enough. he could devour you for hours, and you want to be done after five minutes. “you deserve all this and more, don’t you think? can’t you just sit here while i get my fill of this pretty cunt? i’m just not done yet.”

KAMINARI DENKI + too greedy

if you were good house guests and even better friends, you probably wouldn’t be pinned under denki and working your hips along his cock in a bed that isn’t even yours! this isn’t a hotel, it’s hanta’s flat, and you’re defiling the place by being split open like a pomegranate while your friend is off on a grocery run (at least, that’s how hanta had described the whole incident involving some other friends—he walked into his living room after returning from a run to two people going at it doggy style on the carpet).

but it’s okay, right? it’s not like you’d been waiting for hanta to leave so you could have sex; it just happened naturally, stemming from an innocent cuddle session on the bed while you scrolled through instagram. this is different from the incident because you’re in your own guest room and denki set towels down in case of emergency.

“a-again, i’m gonna cum again,” you wail brokenly, manicured nails digging into his biceps for purchase against the sweeping euphoria, “denki, oh my god—”

“lemme feel it, c’mon. hah, don’t hold back, ‘kay? let it allll out—be a good girl.”

oh, and you do. all it takes are his filthy words in your ears to spark your high and send you right off the edge. denki swallows, feeling lightheaded, but drool still spills past the corners of his lips and runs down his chin in gooey trails.

“aw, sweets,” his chuckle dissolves into a ragged breath, and he tries not to sound too disappointed when he tells you, “looks like you pushed me out.”

denki’s exhausted, covered in sweat, and pink in the cheeks. between your thighs, he’s fumbling with his dick—which is probably purple with overstimulation by now—and trying to push it back inside of you, but to no avail. though you’re leaning back on the pillows and trying to catch your breath, you notice his lower lip wobbling just the slightest bit.

“i’ve got it, denki. there’s no need to cry, i’ll—”

“i’m not crying,” he corrects you immediately, but he sounds like he’s about to start when you grab his cock. your hands are soft and oh so warm as you handle him with care, loosely stroking his length to keep him hard. inch by inch, he watches himself disappear inside you, unable to stop letting out embarrassing noises that you just giggle at.

“on your back. i-i’ll take care of you for a little while.”

changing positions really shows you how sensitive he is, the way he’s barely holding onto his composure by a thread. all of the movement on the mattress makes the wiry bedframe squeak, high pitched and a little unsettling. there’s probably no chance of it breaking, but if it did . . to say the least, hanta would never let you stay over again.

“goddamn. look at ya, you’re so sexy.” you roll your eyes as you sort yourself out on his cock, flattening your palms against his chest for stability. clearly, a moment of respite has allowed him to regain tons of energy again; he squeezes the fat of your ass and whistles lowly, a nasty grin forming on his lips as he does so. “maybe you ride my face after this.”

“shut uppp, i liked you better when you couldn’t talk.”

denki scoffs, pretending to be affronted. “heyyy, that was rude. i don’t see a problem with catching a—nghh, shit . . o-okay, shutting up now.”

a creamy mixture of his mess and yours drips from your sloppy cunt, puddling all over his pelvic bone. he should definitely wipe it away with the nearby towel to prevent so much as a single drop from spilling onto the bed, but his quirk is going a little haywire and zapping his brain like he’s got a defibrillator pressed to his forehead. tiny yellow sparks fly off of the ends of his hair, harmless and faintly tingly against your skin.

“that good, huh?” you smirk, starting to ride his cock, and denki reaches for your bouncing tits with stars in his eyes. a bunch of slutty, debauched thoughts suddenly fly through his head and out of his mouth before he can control it.

“s-so soft. ooh, can i cum inside?” his golden eyes follow the glossy fluids pouring down your inner thighs, a clear hunger shining in them. despite the fogginess that’s set into every corner of his body, he can still form one coherent thought that trumps the others: more more more. he whines your name, nearly choking on it, and strokes his thumbs over your nipples eagerly. “please, can i fill you up?”

you suck in a shallow breath, mentally deciding that this is the final round. splotches of dried and drying cum are smeared across every inch of your naked body, with the most of it being between your legs. at some point, you’ll have to stop and clean up, preferably before hanta gets home. “just one more time,” then you smirk, leaning in close to see him explode. “ngh, fuck a baby into me, denki. flip me over and make me yours, won’t you?”

with a drawn out moan, he does as you ask and slots himself on top of your body, as if he’s trying to melt into you. he’s trembling, unsure of where to put himself in this moment, so he presses his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes. “t-this is supposed to be the best position for makin’ babies. oh, oh fuck, you’re so tight on my—haah, ‘m cumming.”

denki collapses on top of you, sparking and spasming in your arms. he’s still running his mouth, babbling out incoherent praises and whining your name so loudly his throat will be hoarse by the time he’s coming down.

“nobody’s answering their fucking phone!” a voice rings through the thin, shoddy wooden door and sounds both angry and flustered. “i came over here to ask for help with all the groceries and then the door was wide open. i’m never trusting you two alone in my apartment again.”

wheezing against your chest, denki takes it upon himself to speak out . . even though he’s just fried the hell out of his brain. “dude, hanta, it’s not that serious—”

“easy for you to say!” on the other side of the door, hanta blanches, feeling nauseous and awkward, “i had the misfortune of seeing you short circuit outside of battle.”

TAKAMI KEIGO + gets extremely pussydrunk

maybe it’s your smile, or the way your eyes light up with mirth when you touch him innocently. keigo thinks it may even be more than one thing—he’s just hopelessly in love with you and unable to find fault in anything you do. by the time you’re sitting down on his cock right after having sucked his soul out, a switch flips in his brain and everything completely shuts off.

all that matters is you; your presence commands his attention and silences his thoughts, even the ones that stress him out so badly his feathers start to itch. what will he eat for lunch tomorrow? can he finish the assignments dumped on him by the time they’re due? none of that matters now, not when you’re grabbing his chin and pulling him into a hot kiss.

“ugh, fuck – you drive me so crazy,” keigo mumbles as your lips crush against his own, effectively silencing anything else he had to say. and then, with his face in your hands, you start to bounce on his lap, fucking your hips down onto his cock at a pace that is astonishingly fast . . for you.

your lips part to let out a faint moan into his mouth, and he eagerly swallows it, making a similar noise once your tongue finally slides against his. wet and warm, it carries the bittersweet taste of his previous orgasm, the one that actually made you choke—keigo had cum so damn hard you could barely hold all of it in your mouth, and it just kept coming until it spilled down your chin in milky streams.

on either side of his body, vermillion feathers flail like flags in the wind, unrestrained in any way. you’re setting your clammy palms upon his shoulders to hold yourself up against the unstoppable barrage of his cock, the tight squeeze as you work it deeper.

“s-so good,” you babble dumbly, barely able to hear anything over the sound of your heartbeat, “ooh, kei! i love you, i love your cock—”

nodding furiously, keigo takes measures into his own hands—literally. trembling palms circle your waist, and once he gets a stable hold on your squirming body, he starts to move you up and down. he hisses impatiently, but continues to properly warm you up for what’s about to happen.

one particular stroke makes your back arch, akin to the shape of a banana, and keigo immediately knows what this means. he emits a low, breathy chuckle and pulls your hips down again, particular in the way he does so. “found it, babygirl.”

“right there,” you gasp sharply, and it feels like the air is being continuously punched out of your lungs when he moves you in a purposeful rhythm. it’s efficient and a lot less sloppy than what you had executed, hitting directly into your sweet spot every single time.

keigo draws in a breath, relocating one of his hands to your lower tummy and firmly pressing down. the pressure makes you tighter, and makes him go deeper—shockwaves resonate through both bodies. “yeah? right there, angel? you feel me here?”

collapsing into him allows you to tuck your face into his neck and breathe in his personal medley of natural scent and high quality cologne, which has faded over the course of the day. your arms are draped over his back now, fingertips brushing lightly against the downy fluff at the sensitive base of his wings, where feathers coalesce into skin.

your teeth are chattering and tears are starting to overflow past your eyes, “ah, kei, ‘s like i can feel you all over. i think – i think ‘m pretty close now.”

keigo grunts, applying more pressure; it’s enough to make you squeal with what sounds like delight. arousal burns through your body and pools hot and heavy in your gut, much like magma before a volcanic eruption. because his wings constantly show off his true emotions around you—especially in more vulnerable situations such as this one—the pinions at the apexes of each individual wing start to wiggle.

if he wasn’t being fucked to death—or using you to fuck him—he’d probably be a little more embarrassed about the blatant display of joy. a smile or laugh is one thing, but his feathers wiggling back and forth is another. without even the smallest shred of concentration, stopping the movement is impossible.

“make a mess for me,” molten gold eyes meet your own, crinkling at the sides as the inflection of desperation pushes through the words, “shit, i need to see you cum—” keigo cuts himself off with a hoarse groan, struggling to move your hips over his lap as the full-body tremors set in. “ngh, angel. be a good—goddamn, s-so tight—a good girl and cum all over this cock, ‘kay? you have to go first, it has to be you. i can’t, fuck, hold it much longer. just lookin’ at you makes me want to—!”

a feeble squeal cuts through the air like a knife through butter and you are temporarily frozen in place when you cum. sweat gleams along your skin, shimmering around your knitted brows, and your parted lips are sticky with a mixture of spit and drool. keigo wishes he could just see you cum like this again and again, going stiff on his cock—then the rush hits you like a freight train.

you start to cry as cum spurts out of you in copious streams, wetting the entirety of his pelvis. there’s so much all at once, and the spasming clenches of your cunt around him are enough to send his high crashing down over him like a tsunami wave. keigo’s wings instinctually wrap around you in a snug hold when he spills inside you, moaning your name until his voice breaks. his balls don’t feel quite as heavy any more, now that he’s filled you up with everything he had to give.

“relax, baby,” keigo coos, thumbing tears away from your cheeks. stars and spirals flash across his vision and he’s slurring his words, but the comfort feels better when he’s dazed like this. then he looks down, and his jaw audibly drops open. “wow! we . . made a mess, didn’t we?”

sharp and urgent, your nails dig half moons into his bare shoulders the second he starts trying to move. “not yet, kei. can’t you just stay inside me?”

keigo wants to make a pregnancy joke, but fortunately, he refrains. however, you see the idea pass through his mind—his flushed cheeks darken ever so slightly, and he smooths out an almost smile, fighting against its tug on his lips. “whattt? can’t a chef taste what was made with his recipe?”

warm embarrassment licks at the tips of your ears, but you try not to avert your eyes. “that makes no sense, keigo.”

his fingertips doodle obscure shapes into your skin, his touch featherlight. keigo hums meaningfully, allowing his hand to move just a centimeter closer to your ass. “all i’m saying is bend over or lay back with your legs open.”

as tantalizing as his suggestion sounds, your pussy still throbs with soreness. “kei,” you sigh out his name like you’re actually tired, “i don’t – i think i’m way too sensitive for that.”

the thing is, keigo doesn’t actually care if you end up cumming too hard or too fast, or if you cry from overstimulation. he intends to devour you not only for your pleasure, but for his own—he needs this in order to feel satiated. “please, angel? i think i’ll die if i’m not between your thighs in the next two minutes.”

“there’s a new restaurant a few blocks down,” you begin, fingers reverently stroking over the curve of his side, “many of the reviews mention the dessert and sweet treats. it’s supposed to be good.”

fully nude, satoru curls against you, taking note of how easily you fit in beside him. like you were always meant to be here, something whispers in the back of his head. “heh, sounds like you’ve already vetted ‘em. i’ll take a day off next week and we can go.”

“you’re always so busy,” you tease, pulling him closer as though he might just slip away when you fall asleep. as you breathe, satoru feels the swell and sink of your back beneath his palm, and he considers maybe not going to work tomorrow. as if he could take days off on a whim—he might be the strongest in the jujutsu world, but he can’t even make his own choices. then, more quietly, you murmur, “i hope you aren’t overworking yourself too much, satoru.”

when he replies “‘m not,” reflexively, your body momentarily goes rigid, as if he wasn’t meant to hear you. before you can look up and refute him, satoru tugs you closer, making sure to sit his chin atop your shoulder. “really, angel, i’m okay. i can totally handle it.”

he totally can’t, even if he won’t admit it to himself. but satoru doesn’t want you to worry, get caught up with his issues during your day to day—this is simply what comes with the weight of ‘the strongest’ as his title. you huff like you don’t entirely believe him, although you don’t pull away.

“if i don’t pry any further, do you promise to sleep more than three hours tonight? and in this bed, not at work.”

you’re not even asking that much of him. if satoru can wipe out hundreds of curses in less than five minutes, he can definitely try to sleep until sunrise. at home. when there’s work to do. right?

he bites his lip, protesting weakly, “i don’t need to sleep, though, baby. i’ve also gotta get in early to deal with the first years.”

the coolness of sheets in an empty bed flashes through your head, and you decide to push, though there’s a tinge of selfishness behind it all. “please? you still need to rest and let your technique cool down.”

it’s not that difficult to convince satoru to stay after all, especially when he’s feeding off your body heat and you his. the bed does feel more comfortable than his office chair, and just as he comes to this realization, a headache has the nerve to come on, only persuading him further. slowly, like he’s submerging himself in a pool, his body begins to succumb to the comfort of the queen bed, the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your body wash.

“fineeee. but only because you asked so nicely, angel.”

GETO SUGURU.

“i’ll get the water started for you, honey.”

so he does, turning on the faucet and letting the water heat up as it rushes through the pipes, then out of the shower head in a warm spray. from your seat on the toilet, you can’t help but feel a lovesick, fuzzy warmth building in your chest.

muscle ripples in suguru’s back as he carefully takes down his hair, undoing the band to allow the dark tresses to fall past his shoulders. his hair is impeccably taken care of—he lavishes it in only the best shampoos and conditioners every few days, his side of the shower almost overtaking your own. it’s made up of hair products and a few scented bars of soap, the way a shower should look. (not barren and home to a single bottle of two in one, two dove bars, and a dull razor, like satoru’s.)

when the glass door slides shut and suguru steps into the spray, you hear him exhale with relief. the toilet flushes and you stand, joining him in the shower.

“i’ll wash your hair,” you say, as if it’s second nature. though it seems simple on the surface, he’s allowing you to touch one of the most intimate parts of him—his scalp has only known his own hands, and yours, on the occasion that you help him wash it. “shampoo, please.”

suguru laughs, angling the shower head down so you don’t get too wet. shampoo is squirted into your extended, expectant palm and the ritual begins.

“are we taking more showers after sex specifically so i can wash your hair, suguru?”

there has been an increase in the amount of showers after sex. he’ll make a mess of you on the couch, drink some water afterward, and carry you to the bathroom like a princess to her chariot. you can’t quite place your finger on when, but you’d started washing his hair at some point during your baths.

“the curses really have been . . taking a toll on my arms,” he says cheekily, settling on that excuse just to hear you laugh, “perhaps i’ve been having difficulty reaching back and dealing with my hair.”

suguru’s got quite the mane, which anyone could surmise just from looking at him. but as wet hair slides through your fingers, you can see why he likes your help so much. you’re gentle with him, making sure to never yank on anything as you make your way through his hair. even the light sensation of your nails raking along his scalp relaxes him deeply, and all the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and washes down the drain, along with the suds.

“yeah, okay. if i mess up one of my arms, you’re outta luck.”

“we could take epsom baths together, so then you’d have no excuse.”

it’s endearing, the way he’s able to come up with a solution so quickly. you laugh again, light and airy in the thick steam, and suguru decides he never wants to leave this place.

“wash my back while the shampoo sits, sugu?” you ask, switching places with him to get your back thoroughly doused with water. white suds slip down his temples and he pushes back his hair from where it’s piled on top of his head, looking like a child’s sloppy sand castle on the beach.

“want me to pick the body wash this time?”

“that’s a trick question,” you say, eyes sparkling when you look at him, “you’re just going to choose peppermint vanilla like always.”

suguru already has the bottle in his grasp and is squeezing the wash out into his palm, but he still manages to look affronted. “no, i wouldn’t.”

you turn around, stepping out of the spray to playfully wiggle your ass at him. “i can barely smell it anymore, that’s how much you’ve worn it out.”

“it’s your smell,” he shrugs, shoulders rolling with the motion, “it’s your signature soap scent. you can always cover it up with perfume tomorrow anyway, it’s not that strong.”

“is that why you’re always sniffing me at night?”

you can hear him breathing you in when you’re cuddling at night? embarrassing! still, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “it’s comforting, so sue me.”

you sigh in relief when his hands coast over your skin, palms firmly pressing the soap into your back to both wash you and make the scent stick. a comfortable quiet settles between you, and he continues to lave your back with the wash, fingertips tracing the dents and lines of muscle.

it’s domestic, and entirely him.

he pauses, sputtering and gracelessly coughing on the water. “i’m sorry.”

you turn, helping him rinse the bubbles away from his face. “what’s wrong, sugu?”

“not to ruin the moment, but, well, i got soap in both my eyes.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“i can’t believe you made me breakfast, ken.”

kento returns to the bedroom with one of those lap trays made for eating at the couch, carrying a plate of fluffy waffles garnished with a colorful array of sweet berries. there’s even a full cup of syrup on the side to pour to your heart’s content.

he’s pulled on his boxers, the ones that are tight around his ass, and an apron with kiss the cook in calligraphic script embroidered across the front of it. a smile plays on his lips, the kind he wears when he’s biting back an ear-to-ear grin, and he takes a seat beside you. your excitement is something he thinks he’ll never get tired of. with a creak, the bed dips under the newly added weight, and you carefully slot the tray over your lap.

“how’d you know i was craving something sweet?”

“sweetheart, i know you,” kento shakes his head, laughing around the words. “go ahead and try them, i added something new.”

red blooms around the bite marks littered across his collarbone and around his chest, only becoming visible with his occasional shifts beside you. kento watches you eat with a distinct softness in his eyes, his heart swelling in his chest as your face lights up with every bite.

light and sweet as can be, the waffles burst with flavor, although a small tweak has been made to the recipe. maybe kento’s added finely chopped coconut or a few extra spoonfuls of sugar?

“you’re staring,” you point out, cheeks growing warm. his gaze is obviously lovesick, and strong enough to make you feel the littlest bit shy—a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck, and he looks away with a short chuckle. “we can share, ken.”

“that’s okay, honey. i had some while i was making them earlier. so, how do they taste? have you figured out the extra ingredient yet?”

“i’ve got no idea,” you reply after a large bite, setting the fork back on the tray before gently nudging it away. kento’s forearms flex as he lifts it, placing it on the bedside table for later.

he unties the apron and scoops you into his arms, pulling your giggling form close to his chest. “i decided to add more buttermilk.”

a warm kiss is pressed to the space beneath your ear. through your back, you can feel his heartbeat syncing up with your own—relaxed and content in the presence of one another.

“thank you for this morning,” kento whispers, adding, “was i too rough with you, angel?”

“perfect, ken. you almost put me back to sleep, though.”

you share a laugh with him, curling up in his warmth. kento’s fingers trace mindless, ticklish doodles into your side as he begins to slip further into a state of drowsiness. “i don’t like to make excuses, but i find it difficult to hold myself back with you.”

the admission isn’t inherently sexual, not in the way it’s said so delicately. kento is right, he does have difficulty holding back, but only because he’s so known. you’re essentially on the same wavelength, finishing his sentences for him before even he’s able to conjure up the word he’s looking for; you understand him wholly, in the kind of way that transcends the surface and physicality of it all. unspoken feelings make no difference—kento’s open like a book for only your eyes to pore over.

even now, in this embrace, it’s nearly impossible to tell where one body begins and the other ends.

“all mine?”

“all yours, ken. pinkie promise.”

“pinkie promise?” he sighs without exasperation, letting you loop your pinkie with his own. if this wasn’t something he was doing with you, kento would be the first to ask something like isn’t this a bit childish? but this isn’t like making an agreement with gojo; this is a promise he wholeheartedly intends to fulfill. after all, what would he be if he wasn’t yours?

“pinkie promise.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“on your stomach.”

you turn back to throw him an incredulous look, eyebrows drawing together in surprise. “more? toji, i thought you—”

he scoffs, rolling his eyes and motioning toward the couch cushions. “yes, ya heard me. on your stomach, doll. don’t make me ask again.”

“don’t make me ask again,” you mimic him, flopping forward onto your belly as requested. it’s odd that toji’s even vying for more when he’s the one who tapped out first, panting so hard he could barely form a sentence of explanation beyond a few muttered words.

instead of positioning himself at your ass, toji remains sitting beside you, though he turns to press his hands into your upper back. faint as can be, the scent of lavender curls in the air as the worship begins—toji’s suddenly a professional at effleurage, palms circling upward near your shoulder blades.

slow and firm, his hands seem to iron out any aches that may have taken root there. lotion spans almost the entirety of your upper back, serving as both moisturizer and lubrication for the easy glide of skin against skin.

“really, toji?” you ask, lips curling up in amusement, “you wanted to give me a back massage?”

you completely expect him to retort something sassy and annoying, maybe even call you a damn brat or start torture tickling you. instead, toji’s voice rumbles low and meaningful from his chest. “had ya laid out on your back for a while, and on the couch, no less. jus’ wanted to make sure you’d be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

toji’s answer does something that it never has before. it shuts you up, and at the same time, makes heat rush to your cheeks. embarrassment and a particular fondness, of all things, stir in your chest at his thoughtfulness. you haven’t messed around on the couch in many months, and yet he still remembers the small, almost unnoticeable hunch of your back after getting up last time.

he laughs at you, feeling proud to have finally ‘won’ all the bantering.

“didn’t expect that, huh?” toji pauses, fingertips lightly dragging down the planes of your back. before he even speaks, you can already hear the smirk in his voice. “anyway, i wish ya could see how pretty you look right now.”

“you can’t even see my face, toji.”

a huff escapes him, and he makes sure to dig his fingers in, just so he can hear you squeal in both laughter and pain. “just can’t take a compliment, huh? you’re such a brat, swear to god.”

“your brat,” you remind him cheerfully, feeling his hands slide to the middle of your back. “as much as i’m enjoying this, i wouldn’t mind taking care of you, baby.”

he snorts. you’re calling him baby like he isn’t 6’3 and nearly 200 pounds of muscle—but there’s something endearing about the idea of being taken care of too. toji actually . . . wouldn’t mind it.

“oh yeah? and what do ya plan to do to me?”

you hum thoughtfully, turning your head around to fix him with a playful look. “i’d turn on one of the movies i’ve been telling you we need to watch and then scratch your back so you wouldn’t get up in the middle of it.”

“this better not be about—”

before he can begin trashing on your favorite movie, the one he hasn’t watched yet, you bulldoze right over him. “as the movie starts, i’d be whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“wouldn’t that just make me bend ya over? kinda defeats the purpose of aftercare, doll.”

“the key word is sweet, toji,” even with your clarification, he still looks a little lost, making the same confused face he does when shiu cracks a sly joke at his expense in front of you. “sit down and i’ll show you what i’m talking about.”

the comforting pressure on your back lets up, and for a split second, you almost wish you hadn’t suggested to demonstrate. toji sits down, remote looking dwarfed in his closed palm, and smirks expectantly, like there’s something funny to say. “i was just thinking. what if all the aftercare turns me into a spoiled brat?”

you scoff as he turns on the tv, settling on your knees behind him. “we can’t both be spoiled brats, toji.”

KAMO CHOSO.

“did i hurt you?” is the first thing to come out out of choso’s mouth when you finally return to yourself, a few crystalline tears starting to dry on your cheeks. you hadn’t quite noticed them during the pandemonium, too wrapped up in the overwhelming sensations of sex to focus on something so unimportant. but now, there’s a warm stinging that you trace to your neck—where he’d been biting and sucking the most in the moments before orgasm.

“‘s okay, cho. i’m okay, just tired now,” you laugh breathlessly, watching the worry drain out of his face, “i’ve gotta get up and wipe off, or i’ll end up getting pregnant.”

choso’s eyes are shining. “our kids would be so pretty, all ‘cause of you.”

you sit up on your elbows, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. this is the same look you give him every time he mentions it, and not wanting to nag you too much, he remembers himself. “okay, i know. have to wait more than five years first, i got it,” with the mildest degree of resignation making its way through his huffed words, choso slips off of the bed and pads toward the bathroom.

shortly after, he returns with a damp washcloth and settles on his knees between your thighs. even in the low light, his movements are perpetually delicate and skillful, a direct result of his understanding of your body, built through touch. with the way he’s comfortably wiping cum off your inner thighs, it’s hard to believe that choso had once been so awkward he’d stalked off mid-sex to let out a few tears of embarrassment.

“it’s not too hot, is it?” he checks in, more worried than he should be. it isn’t difficult to imagine him as a father, gasping as your child toddles around recklessly, jumping off of the couch and into his awaiting arms. he’s the type to always come to the rescue, no matter what.

“no, it’s just right,” you murmur, feeling the sweep of the lukewarm washcloth at the top of your thigh. “no need to be so concerned, choso. i trust you, baby.”

pink blooms in the apples of his cheeks at your words, just as it always does whenever you pay him an innocent compliment. he takes comfort in your relaxed sigh, folding the washcloth into itself and setting it on the bedside table before sliding himself up to lay his head on your chest. “you need to stop indulging me so much,” he groans when your fingers slip into his hair, combing gently though the dark strands, “keep up the ‘put a baby in me’ and i might actually do it.”

choso feels his entire face burn once he repeats a line that’s supposed to be yours, a shudder rippling through his body when a memory from earlier flashes behind his eyes.

“i know, cho,” you hum, nails lightly raking against his scalp in your odyssey through his hair. it’s painfully intimate, and impossibly soothing for him—he could say just about anything to you, even confess something deep and dark without the usual constraints of your daily routine. this is just you and him, simple and naked.

then you giggle, “but i also know how crazy it makes you.”

it does make him more wild than it should, the idea of getting you pregnant and then the concept of raising the baby itself. choso pauses meaningfully before he answers you, letting his eyes close. “maybe something’s fundamentally wrong with me.”

a gooey hybrid of affection and sadness races through your veins upon hearing his words. it’s hard to say something—even anything at all—when you know just a little about his struggle being half-human, half-curse. choso is constantly feeling guilty about taking the easier path in life as a human, wondering if someone like him could possibly deserve something greater than himself to love and care for.

it’s quiet now, save for the steady hum of the fan and sweep of your fingers through his hair, loose and languid. “sorry,” choso exhales softly, tilting his face to the side, “i didn’t mean to become so negative.”

“there isn’t a thing wrong with you, choso. i know you’re wanting a family of your own, and i don’t disagree with that in the slightest. i see a future with you, but there’s no shame in taking it slow, is there? we aren’t even engaged yet, baby.”

“engaged?” he echoes quizzically, voice low.

plug!choso, though inexperienced, is quick to help you out with his hands on your hips the second you start grinding on him. it feels so good, with his fingers slipping beneath your shirt and your breaths in his ear. when you can finally feel yourself gliding along the hardness of his clothed cock, you drop your head over his shoulder.

in the backseat, plug!choso is focused on making sure you’re comfortable as he squeezes between your thighs, turning his head to kiss on each one. the kisses turn to licks on the way up until he’s lapping at your pussy and staring up at you with his low, red eyes.

plug!choso who’s super vocal and noisy through it. he can’t stop telling you how good you taste, how pretty you look with your legs spread, how he just knew you’d be better than he could’ve ever imagined. he gets so passionate and carried away that he ends up asking you who is devouring you like this.

of course, you end up whining his name and cumming against his mouth not long after. and when you blink out of your daze to look at him, you'll see that plug!choso is both teary and pussydrunk. he looks like a changed man now, especially with your slick shining around the lower half of his face.

walking in on tamaki stroking his cock to you is nothing less than beautiful. at first, he’s embarrassed and rushes to zip up his pants until you grab his wrist and stop him, encouraging him to put on a show for you. and god, he absolutely does. he gives your favorite parts of his body all the attention, arches his back for you, cries out your name like a mantra. just before he cums, he asks for some form of permission.

izuku’s strong, using one hand to keep you steady as you ride his face while the other works his cock. facesitting is his favorite thing to do with you because he gets to wrap your soaked, sticky panties around himself and use them to jerk off all while drinking you in.

cockwarming in the morning with keigo after he’s been gone a week on a mission; it very quickly turns into needy, desperate fucking while hands roam bodies and pull one another close. (he started it by kissing and sucking at your neck.)

bouncing on denki’s cock until he goes entirely dumb, and telling him he better not cum yet until you tell him to. of course, he’s too far gone to even look at you directly or hold onto you; tears gather in his eyes as he whimpers, begging you to let him cum inside.

mirror sex with hitoshi, who yanks you back by the hair whenever you look away out of embarrassment. “who’s that pretty girl?” he asks as he fucks you so hard you can barely even stutter out an answer.

it’s easy for dabi to get a little mean; after countless orgasms and endless rounds of fucking in every position he can come up with, you’re drooling and moaning freely. “what was that, doll? c’mon, use your words.” (he’s making it impossible to do so.)

admitting that you need some help learning how to ‘do sex’ to your best friend shōto is embarrassing, but he’s so eager to show you that you forget all about it. as you lay beneath him, clinging to his shoulders while your nails dig crescents into his skin, all you can both think about is the fact that neither of you took action sooner.

slick with the messy mix of spit and cum, your fist glides up and down his cock. it doesn’t take long for you to find your groove, especially when he’s reacting so quickly, each moan telling you more than enough. his hands are on both of your asscheeks and your pussy’s dripping right in front of his face, and he’s not doing a damn thing about it.

“h-hey,” izuku tries, clearing his throat in hopes of regaining control over his shaking voice, “interrupting people when they’re—oh my god—when they’re talking is rude.”

you roll your eyes, roling your tongue over his tip. he moans shamelessly, hips desperately bucking up in delusion. just a little bit of action with your tongue and he thinks he’ll get a blowjob—please. izuku’s done nothing to deserve a gift like that right now; the position you’re in allows for him to slurp you up like a sundae, and yet, he hasn’t taken action.

“not finishing the meal in front of you is pretty rude, too.” you rock your hips forward and back, giving him a downright sinful view of the mess between your thighs. glossy strings of slick cling to your skin, just begging to be licked up, and then there’s your all too empty cunt.

izuku’s out of retorts and thinking only of how soft your hands are against his cock. the languid flick of your wrist is nothing but slow and smooth, just the way he likes it—oh, did a tear just run down his cheek?

all of the built up sensitivity makes him easy. he’s stumbling over his words now, jerking his hips up and gasping for breath. “‘m gonna cum again, baby. d-don’t slow down, please don’t slow down!”

while izuku’s cock is thickening and throbbing in your fist, you’re busy adjusting yourself, pulling your knees back so that your ass is now hovering over his face.

“i’m gonna cum,” he sobs, and the sound goes straight to your clit, “oh, fu—”

you plant your ass right onto his face, neglected pussy sliding against his open mouth. it feels like heaven when izuku groans at the contact, his tongue finally stroking along your dripping entrance. the overwhelming taste of sweetness is already too much, and then you start to move—rough and graceless, your hips rock over his face.

this is you taking what you want, and god, it’s hot.

cum spurts over your fingers in thick, creamy trails and he stops thrusting up, no longer trying to meet your hand as it comes down. he may be spent, but you’re nowhere near finished with him.

“damn, ‘zuku. i can’t believe you’re making me do all the work here.”

your boyfriend starts to whine between desperate licks against your cunt, much of his noise muffled by your ass covering his face. even after squeezing most of the cum out of him, you don’t slow down—he was the one who told you not to, right? (curiously, you want to see if throwing your ass back onto his face while overstimulating him will result in another orgasm.) now, he may be coming close to suffocating, but this is the kind of death he’d welcome with open arms. or, open mouths, in his case.

BAKUGO KATSUKI.

⟡ katsuki would never sit there and let you jerk him off until he’s shaking. why? because it won’t work, and because it’s ‘such a stupid idea and waste of time’. but maybe overstimulation isn’t so stupid when you’re riding him like a racehorse and bouncing those moans out.

“mhm, mhm,” katsuki’s gripping your hips and roughly guiding you along his cock, making sure that you’re keeping the pace. “atta girl, that’s real good. hah—been waiting for this all day.”

japan’s number five hero works hard every single day. katsuki’s constantly going on patrols, apprehending criminals, dealing with co-workers . . . it’s a lot, and he deserves a break from all of it.

your chest heaves, tits bouncing in his face, and he’s never been so enthralled. his cock is snug inside you and being squeezed tight by your clenching walls; even better, he’s about to empty himself out inside you. there’s so much to give you that he doesn’t even want to pull out too quickly, lest it all run out of you.

“k-katsuki,” you whine his name, nearly choking on it, “oh my god, you’re so deep. ‘s like i can feel you in my stomach.”

rough and large, one of katsuki’s palms comes to rest against the soft skin of your tummy. he chuckles gruffly, pressing into the slight bulge his cock makes inside of you. “that’s because i’m in there. you feel that, right here? is it too much for you?”

you nod, and he laughs, white teeth catching the light. they look sharp in his mouth, gleaming with something almost predatory. “that’s just too bad, huh? i’m about to fill up this pussy of yours, and you’re not gonna let a single drop leak out. is that clear or no?”

katsuki’s command doesn’t quite sound physically possible. if you were to get up and off of him, everything would spill down your thighs and make a not-so-sexy mess. you haven’t cum yet, and you also want to listen to him—maybe if you were to stay on his lap, you could make both things happen.

thinking you’re not listening, he smacks your ass and arches an expectant brow. you shake your head, throwing your arms over his shoulders to maintain balance, “i - yeah, i heard you. sit back and let me work my magic, kat. my break was too long, you didn’t tell me.”

his jaw clenches slightly. you can see that he’s biting his tongue, too close to the edge to be making any more snarky comments. there’s a faint shaking in both of his thighs, and you’re very interested in seeing if you can make it worse.

you’re bouncy as you ride his cock, slamming your ass down on him and putting on quite the show. of course, katsuki ends up reaching his high with a guttural groan of your name that dissolves into a series of curses and harsh breaths. seeing him fall apart is a delicious sight, and your thighs are starting to burn with exertion as you ride him through it, but then he lets out the lowest of whines.

katsuki, of all people? finally losing enough of his composure to stop holding back those amazing sounds? now you’re determined to pull more out of him, no matter the cost! exhaustion melts into exhilaration, and you’re bouncing on his cock with renewed vigor.

“fuck,” he chokes out, voice tight, “holy fuck, i just came”—katsuki’s fingers twitch and he reaches out to grab your hips, but he stops short—“g-god, what’s with you? not even gonna give me a damn break?”

you just shake your head, breathing hard. your palms are pressed against his chest now, and you’re looking at him like you want to eat him alive. “not yet, not until i—ngh, oh my god—i hear you stop holding yourself back.”

he just moans, broken and raw. “fuck do you mean i’m holding back?”

katsuki’s completely shaking now, his abs clenching with every single noise that escapes him. the air smells very faintly of burnt caramel but more so sweat and sex—little by little, he’s starting to unravel. “you know, y-you’re always gritting your teeth and grunting when it’s obvious you just feel embarrassed to make any other noise.”

he looks indignant, “i am not—” but he throws his head back, clearly overwhelmed, and the sudden whimper that slips out of his mouth completely betrays him. god, what the fuck are you doing to him? he hates that you’re right about him being slightly embarrassed but can’t muster a shred of anger or even a half-formed thought about it. you’re literally riding him stupid, and you can see when the realization of the moment registers in his brain.

the moment has really inflated your ego, and acting on impulse, you grab him by the the throat, which surprises both of you. katsuki’s eyes widen a fraction at the familiar action—he’s the one who’s supposed to be grabbing you—and startled, he accidentally whines. it’s louder than earlier and much filthier; he sees the excitement on your face and feels your pussy clench hard around him.

he’s too stunned to speak, not only by the way you’ve grabbed him but also by the sparks of arousal shooting up his spine in response. you only smirk at him, pleased by the sudden role reversal. “that’s what i’m talking about, kat. let me really hear how much you like it.”

TODOROKI SHOTO.

⟡ when you mention a little something about overstimulation, shoto isn’t entirely unfamiliar with the subject. he’s pretty sure he’s made you experience that before, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous for you to try it out on him..

shoto’s leg jerks like you’ve just used a reflex hammer on him. he can feel the warmth searing its way across his face when your eyes meet his, a smile playing on your lips like you aren’t stroking his cock at the moment.

he lets out something between a gasp and an exhale, biting at his lower lip. “sweetheart, do you really have to—f-fuck—look at me like that?”

“like what?” you ask coyly, leaning in so that your lips just barely graze against the sensitive tip of his cock. shoto’s all sticky, slick with a tantalizing mixture of sweat and too many orgasms to count; the quietest of whines slips out of him, and he tears his eyes away, averting them to a nearby couch cushion.

“like that,” he insists, at a loss for words, “like you’re doing anything but jerking me off right now. you know exactly what you’re doing to me, angel.”

you laugh at him. you actually laugh at him, as if he’s just said something funny—but it’s pretty hard to be indignant when you speed up as well. the flick of your wrist is smooth, almost a little lazy, but you don’t have to try too hard to get his heart racing. it’s embarrassing, honestly, the way he can feel his orgasm rising up in his gut—fast and hot, like fast-moving magma in a volcano.

“d-don’t look at me,” shoto says, sounding like he’s begging you not to, “hah, this is already too much for me.”

his cock twitches in your grip, thickening and throbbing under your touch. you’re working him like a fucking pro, stroking him the way he first taught you how to—but he never expected you to use those skills against him! shoto can’t quite tell if you’re tormenting him or not, but it definitely feels like it every time you coo his name.

“sho, baby,” just the sound of your voice causes a shudder to rock his entire body, making his shoulders roll forward, “i can’t look away, though. you always make this really hot face when you cum, and seeing it makes me feel like i’m right there with you. c’mon, look at me, i want to—”

there’s a choked, desperate moan only a second before hot cum spurts over your fingers in copious amounts. each burst is better than the last, especially because he just gets louder. soft gasps transform into pants of your name and groans that he’s no longer able to hold back. shoto can only squirm when you keep going, giggling as you use his cum as lube.

“oh, oh my god,” he’s bucking toward you and drawing back whenever you give him too much, so blissed out he’s not even sure what he wants anymore. “fuck, i can’t—w-wait, don’t stop.”

if there’s anything he’s sure of, it’s the fact that you’re gonna be the death of him one day. you giggle at him, squeezing tighter. “don’t stop? i thought it was don’t look.. make up your mind, sho.”

KAMINARI DENKI.

⟡ denki 100% thinks he’s gonna die when you walk in on him humping your pillow. like, what if you pull a fucking glock out from under the bed?? the last thing he expects you to do is ‘help’ him out, aka make him suffer a little.

a litany of pitched moans spills out of denki’s mouth before he can even think to stop it. right now, it’s just him, a homemade video of you throwing your ass back onto him, and the pillow he’s rutting his clothed cock into—but this isn’t just any pillow.

it’s your pillow, and your name is the only coherent thing on his lips.

“fuckfuckfuck—” denki’s panting lowly, cursing under his breath as he feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge; the audio from the video blasts through his headphones at full volume, the sounds of your giggles and his panting filling his ears. it’s so loud that he doesn’t even hear you step into the room, nor does he hear the way you say his name.

it’s only when he rips his eyes away from his phone to tilt his head up against the forming tears does he see you standing there with your arms crossed. denki can’t even throw the pillow to the side—not only have you seen him, you’ve probably noticed the large wet spot in his boxers with every rough pass of his hips.

“is that my pillow?” you ask, not breaking the eye contact with him. oh fuck, you’re getting onto the bed with him now—shit, and you’ve just taken your pillow away from him.

you’re looking over it, noticing the dampness of the colored pillowcase and the wrinkles on the sides from how hard he’d been gripping it.

“it’s not what it looks like!” denki tries weakly, sitting back on his knees and holding his hands up in surrender. “if you’d just hear me out—”

before he can even finish his sentence, your hand is on his cock and squeezing rather tightly—your thumb is just under his tip and pressing firmly, and even though you’re a little mad at him, it feels good. maybe it’s the way you’re grabbing him too tightly for him to escape, or it’s the unreadable glare and the heat behind it, but he cums, right then and there.

“you’re such a slut, baby,” it’s the first thing out of your mouth as you start to carelessly tug on his cock, turning his boxers into more of a mess. hot and thick, cum soaks through the fabric. some of it gets onto your hand, but you don’t give a damn—you’re a lot more focused on the sounds that he’s making in response to your words. “i knew you were desperate, but c’mon, denki,” you say his name with so much vitriol that he feels it in the very tip of his cock, “i said i’d be home in an hour, and that you could do whatever you wanted to me. but nooo, you decide to fuck my pillow instead. you have to admit how pathetic that is, baby.”

denki sucks in a breath, desperate for the air that’s escaping his lungs, “h-hey, it’s not my fault, it’s yours. you were taking too long and—ngh, shit, don’t squeeze so tight! ‘m still sensitive—”

“what, you’re gonna cum again?” you roll your eyes, giggling at the way his hips chase your hand when you pull it back, “i should just sit here and make you get yourself off. why should i even help you, hm?”

“you’re literally so mean,” his hiss turns into a yelp when you do squeeze him more roughly, sliding your fist down in the process. both on the inside and outside, his boxers are a complete mess: sticky with splotches of cum and full of his leaking cock. “i didn’t even get a break, you can’t just—”

with a smirk on your face, you just sit back and watch him cum again, but this time, you let go. denki can’t even finish his sentence before he’s gushing into his ruined boxers, hips rutting blindly into the air and searching for your grasp on him. the stinging overstimulation kicks in before the bliss can end and he’s left shuddering, with his teeth clicking together.

he actually lets out a little whimper, of all things, when you reach toward his waistband and completely ignore the way he draws his hips back.

“let’s see if i can help you remember not to mess with my pillows this time, okay? you could really use a reminder of why you should be patient, denki.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI.

⟡ tamaki is NOT innocent, even if he acts like he is. he knows what he’s doing when he’s grinding against you in the store, or ‘accidentally’ turning chaste kisses into ones with tongue. the only way you’re able to get him under control is to throat his dick in a place that’s a little more public than private.

tamaki can only shudder as you pull off of him to cough, his cock hanging slick and sensitive between his thighs. even after one of your rougher blowjobs, he’s still hard and waiting for the next round of your punishment. you glare up at him, fuming, and he’s never been so excited.

“i’m so done with you,” you huff, harshly wiping away the spit on your chin. your throat is a little sore from choking on his dick, but it’s nothing compared to the mix of pleasure and pain he’ll be feeling when you get your mouth on him again. with the back of your hand, you hit him right where it should hurt, and tamaki just moans, his hips thrusting forward. you scoff, voice nothing short of lewd and dripping with absolute contempt. “god, you’re the definition of a slut.”

“well, what about you?” he murmurs in a tone that you don’t like in the slightest, the tips of his ears flushing a deeper pink. “you’re the one who’s on her knees behind a car in a busy parking lot.”

they’re fighting words, but you can sniff out the weakness behind them. tamaki’s trying and failing to be a brat; you grab his cock by the base, your grip firm and leaving no room for resistance.

“what was that? i’d love for you to repeat what you just said.”

you begin to stand up, the soles of your shoes scuffing against the pavement. his hands are on your shoulders and desperate as he tries to ease you back down, shaking his head frantically. he’s obviously backpedaling, rethinking what he said and anything that could fix it.

“nonono, please,” tamaki’s breathless, his expression pulling into one of unadulterated need, “i-i didn’t mean to—don’t leave me like this.”

another please trembles on his lips. you give him some grace by taking the tip of his cock between your lips, tongue grazing along the underside of it. tamaki barely deserves this—that little freak was practically humping you in the store, sidling up behind you and pressing his hips into your ass so you could feel that half-hard cock of his. to anyone passing by, this would look like a full body hug, but you knew exactly what it was, and it was quite the opposite of an innocent embrace.

he slides further down your throat and winces a little at the sensation. he’s still sensitive from a few minutes ago and not ready to cum again, especially so soon, but being without your mouth would hurt a lot more. in the distance, a few people walk past the row of cars yours is parked in, unsuspecting and completely unaware of the filth in their vicinity.

holding him by the base of his cock, you exhale and pull back, voice slightly raspy. “we’ll deal with this fully once we get home, but right now? i want you to cum in thirty seconds or you’re gonna wait.”

tamaki doesn’t question you. he only nods feverishly and bites his tongue, afraid to say something wrong again. after all, it’s a lot easier to shut up and listen rather than try and talk back. you’re back to slurping his cock again, and all he can think about is how good you look like this.

eyes hooded, cheeks bulging, lips glossy with spit—shit, he could cum just from looking at you. the thirty second rule is about to become the ten second rule . . and it does, when your eyes meet his and something shifts inside of him.

you taste his cum before you hear him warn you. he paints your throat white, falling over the edge with a loud groan that breaks into softer whines and eventually whimpers. afraid of overstimulation, tamaki starts to draw his hips back, gasping only when you warn him not to with a slight clenching of your teeth around his cock.

“woah, woah woah woah—hold on! h-hey, i thought you wanted to go home after this,” tamaki grabs onto the car for support as you continue sucking his soul out through his dick, too shaken up to register the heat of the surface. “um, isn’t it a bit hot out here? shouldn’t we get in the ca—ahh—r?”

he shudders despite the heat he just mentioned, shaken by your determination to keep going. right now, he’s walking a very fine line between stinging pain and fading pleasure—every slurp of his cock tugs him further to either edge, but all he can do is take it. how else could you punish him for being such a slut in the store earlier?

TAKAMI KEIGO.

⟡ whenever you offer to ‘take care’ of him, keigo knows exactly what you’re getting at and always flips it around so that you’re the one who ends up crying. but once you make him cum once, the rest come very easily.

“okay, i’m begging now, this is me begging,” tears roll down keigo’s temples when he arches his back, trying in vain to free himself. “d-don’t, not again. baby, i thought you said you hated when i cry.”

light as a feather and ticklish, the tips of your fingers trail down his muscular chest just to tease. “that’s only when you’re hurt or i can’t comfort you, kei. these are sexy tears.”

half tucked just under his body, keigo’s wings flap slowly but powerfully, blowing air and stray feathers all around the room. he’s trying his hardest to keep them under control, but it’s damn near impossible with you straddling him.

“ugh, fuck—stop it, i want to cum inside you,” he whines as you start to grind down on him again, pussy sliding slick and smooth over his cum-covered cock. thanks to you, keigo’s made quite the mess on himself—white streaks cover much of his pelvis and lower belly, while the excess trickles down his inner thighs. “no way you’re gonna do this to me again.”

“c’mon, kei,” you murmur, circling your hips over the tip of his cock in a suspicious pattern that seems to spell something out, “just one more, please? can you do that for me, keigo?”

“you can’t say it like that and expect me to say no,” he hiccups as you brush a few stray hairs out of his face, your touch impossibly gentle and completely opposite to the way you’ve been treating him. first, you tied him to the headboard and started with a blowjob—but then you figured it’d be more exciting to hop into his lap and see how many times you could make him fall apart without putting him inside you.

it feels like keigo’s soul is about to leave him when you start up with the praise and cooing of his name. it makes all of his frustration melt away, and it’s so dangerous because it makes him want to listen. you could say anything in that tone while kissing his jaw or cradling the side of his face and he’d do whatever you asked him to.

some of the longer feathers of his wings brush lightly against your jaw as they flap again, struggling to stay still. “you’re killing me,” keigo gasps, strained, his hips jerking up, “i need you to ride me already, dovey.”

you pull back when he pushes forward, smirking with amusement. keigo’s tied up and genuinely begging (though it could be more desperate), even though you both know he could escape if he really wanted to. if he were truly as frustrated as he says, he would slice the soft rope binding his wrists and fuck you into the next god damn day.

but he doesn’t.

keigo likes when you’re in control and deciding how he should cum, even if it’s not always the way he wants. you continue, settling back into position. by the last strange swirl of your hips, he’s realized that you’ve spelt out your name on him, similar to the way that he does when he’s eating you out.

he thought he couldn’t for at least a little while, but he clearly thought wrong. keigo cums right then and there, his cock spurting warmth all over your pussy and contributing to the mess.

“f-fuck, i’m cumming,” his jaw is dropped and a small amount of confusion seeps into his expression, though it’s mostly covered up by the euphoria.

“that was certainly . . fast, keigo,” you giggle while he moans thoughtlessly, his teary eyes squeezing shut as he rides out his high, body trembling and all. now, you could untie him and let him fuck you, but where’s the fun in that? where’s the control? you know both of you would enjoy it more if he was left tied up and you rode him into oblivion instead.

someway, somehow, he’s still spilling cum even as you grab his twitching cock and sit on it. keigo lets out a delicious noise at the feel of you wrapped around his cock, his throat bobbing and shiny with sweat in the light.

“god, you’re so big,” the compliment goes straight to his dick and makes him moan even louder, his chest rapidly rising and falling. his pupils are blown when he opens his eyes again, squinting at you through the tears like you’re straight out of his favorite fantasy.

“y-you gotta sit for a second, dovey, it’s too much. ‘m actually empty right now, can’t cum again.”

keigo lets out a sob the moment you start moving, ass bouncing off his thighs while his cock goes deep. he starts running his mouth, babbling teary nonsense about how it’s too much—he almost shuts up once you lean over him, allowing him to press his face into your neck.

we’ve known that katsuki sweats buckets. it doesn’t come as a surprise when he’s sweating like a pig in missionary, beads of salt falling from his jaw to your chest and making the room stink of BO. he’s clapping your asscheeks, you’re both forgetting about the sweat; you make the mistake of squirming away from the sensitivity and this is when things go downhill FAST. “fuck,” he bites his lip, frustrated as his clammy hand finds his cock and tries to re-insert it. kat is struggling, so you reach a hand down to help him out, and he groans when he gets the tip in, starts moving too impatiently. sparks fly from his hands, tiny little explosions sounding off against his cock and your inner thighs/asshole. after all the screaming wraps up, you sarcastically ask him if he needs to be cuffed to the bed while you ride him. he just gets more upset because he’s genuinely considering it after this event and sits in silence for the next half hour. (+bonus: he’s exploded his dick n balls while jerking off and only does it in the shower now)

out of everyone, shoto’s acts up the most. you could suck his soul out his dick, then stand up to see fire catching on the left side of his hair or arm. the worst of it happens the day you reunite after having been apart for two weeks, since he was away in another part of the country with another group of heroes. you were going at it pretty fucking hard, throwing it back on him while he thoughtlessly babbled out words of horny praise. you came explosively, and he did as well! a smaller version of his great glacial aegir split through the bedroom wall and half of his chest was on fire. accidentally burned some of your hair off :(

typically eijirou has excellent control over his quirk. typically. he’d gotten hit by a small-time quirk eraser and decided he could forget about it by burying himself seven inches deep inside you or eating your pussy like a decadent dessert. all was well, you were in the middle of switching positions and tugging his cock into your fist for a handjob. halfway through it, eijirou’s quirk returned, just as you were sliding your hand down. it hurt badly and he couldn’t stop apologizing furing the bandaging process although it wasn’t his fault. honestly he couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky you’d both been that his dick wasn’t anywhere else when it happened.

did someone say human vibrator? denki’s the best man for the job! he’s got you spread out on the bed and shaking, his dutiful fingers pressed into your clit while he shallowly fucks in and out of you. it’s a kink he’s come to love, because he can feel the gentle shocks right in the tip of his cock. your mouth hangs open lamely, too blissed out to say anything other than his name in a cute, whiny tone. it seems very safe until his brain briefly short circuits when your cunt squeezes down particularly hard around him; a startling zap of electricity shoots through the both of you and you fly apart like repelling magnets. he’s on the floor grabbing his electrocuted dick with tears in his eyes while you hiss in pain on the bed, rolling around like you’re on fire.

i’m crying hanta has a mild bondage kink. his quirk hasn’t ever presented itself as a problem, besides the rare elbow to the nose while changing positions, but his idea of safety is proved wrong on your anniversary. he’d been buttering you up the whole day, growing more lovesick with each gift or compliment given to you. later that night, you were elaborately tied/taped to a chair, engaging in a little roleplay with him. sexy stockholm syndrome quickly turned into taken 2008 when even HE couldn’t get you out of the fucking bondage. the tape was too sticky and too adhesive to get off of the floor, let alone your skin. so, hanta came up with the best solution he could. he used some scissors to cut the tape away from the chair and floor, picked it up (with you taped into it, naked), and hauled you into the backseat of the car. you were promptly taken to the ER, where the medical staff and waiting patients gawked at the scene in front of them: a sloppily dressed pro hero holding a chair with his naked girlfriend elaborately taped to it. he shed a few humiliated tears in the corner while the doctors painlessly got the tape off your skin.

tamaki’s just a wild card. random shit happens during sex, like him accidentally moaning your nickname for HIM, or slapping his own ass. it’s easy for him to get flustered, for wires in his brain to cross incorrectly. he literally had sukiyaki with his friends for lunch at a new place near his agency, and then you were riding him to oblivion on his desk when you stopped by after hours to distract him from a stack of paperwork. everything was more than fine, euphoric to be exact, and you just turned back to look at your bouncing ass, ignoring the sudden flush on his face. you were instead met with the sight of his newly sprouted cow leg hanging over the edge of the desk.