#mhadrabble

Denki x Y/N

Warnings: missionary sex, soft to rough, vulgar language, coercion(?), female body parts mentioned

Synopsis: You’ve been toeing the line between keeping it together during sex and absolutely losing it. Denki, however, is about to blur those lines. 

It wasn’t that he was bad. Let’s just get that out of the way. The first time you ever had sex with Denki, you two were both inexperienced. The only information you possessed was from perverted manga you happened to read together. You had several conversations leading up to you two tangled up in the sheets, which led to a smooth, giggly session. Denki was an expert at distracting your insecurities with his voice. Whether it be a joke, a reference to a meme, or his high pitched whimpers, your boyfriend was always there to make you stop second guessing what comes naturally.

Denki notices when you hide your face behind the back of your hand after a particularly quick thrust. Before he can let up, you give him a reassuring grin, wrapping your fingers around his arms to let him know he didn’t hurt you. You were always so loud in every other setting. Why did you get so quiet when he genuinely wanted more of your voice? He craved it. He vied for your attention, and making love only amplified that incessant fixation. In a way, he wanted those praises. You were so quick to verbally reassure him when he came home from work. You praised him when you completed missions on your favorite video games together. Was he just not cutting it tonight? Were you sparing him by holding back? He shook his head. Denki was determined to hear you tonight. 

He leaned down, pressing his chest against yours and whispering in your ear.

“Is it too much for you, milady?” he whispered with a smile. 

You let out a breathy laugh, “You didn’t just say that, right now,”

“You keep holding your hand to your lips,” he pressed, as he removed said hand to place a kiss on it, “like you’re having sex with class,” 

Your precious giggle floated through the air as he smacked sloppy kisses up your arm. You wrenched it back, forcing him closer as he wasn’t letting go. 

“Denki!” you squealed. 

“S-sorry I- oh fuck,” His apology was left unfinished as the sound of you moaning his name fully registered. 

Wild, amber eyes zeroed in on you. You who was bracing the absolute worst-

“Did I do good that time?” He teased, dragging his length over the same spot he just rammed into. 

“I - mmh!- yeah you - oh God - you always do good, baby,” you answer, voice like spun silk. 

He slowly began picking up the pace. You two maintaining eye contact for longer than a couple minutes was getting to his brain. Perhaps seeing your eyes while making love was a bad idea as his will was rapidly deteriorating. He dug his nails into the mattress, determined to keep you talking. 

“Yeah? So, what, you were holding back on me, hmm? Afraid I would like hearing you in bed, huh?” With that said, a thumb pressed on your clit, distracting you from no longer feeling his dick moving inside you. Rather he’d positioned himself on his heels, watching you with pleading eyes; nearly whining for your response. “Please, sweetheart?”

“It’s just…Denki I…can we not right now I-” 

He let out a disapproving hum, switching from teasing to drawing full on figures on your clit. 

“What better time is there to talk about this?” he innocently asked,” Not unless you want a round 2?”

You whined pathetically, wrenching your hips away in order to cling to some sort of composure. Though, Denki’s magnetic hands honed in on your pleasure like a lifeline. You couldn’t take the incessant assault. Between him encouraging you with his words, and hands, you were done for. Streams of whorish moans poured from your lungs as your high hit you full force. Denki had to sink his teeth deep into his lip to keep from grabbing his dick and finishing right then and there. As your writhing came to a close, you peeked up at your boyfriend, who had a mixture of awe and adoration on his face. 

“Guess a round 2 really got you going, huh?” Denki joked. 

You were about to throw a quip when you noticed his hard-on. He quickly followed your eyes. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed, “ How are you feeling? You’ve never lost control like that. I’ve never seen…I never knew you were holding it back,”

You avert your eyes, “I just get nervous. It’s one thing being your girlfriend, it’s another being naked in front of you,” 

He rubbed your knee as he took in your words. 

“Would you like to get more comfortable with being naked around me?” Denki suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. 

You cut off his teasing chuckle by wrapping your legs around his hips, squeezing him against you. You snaked your arms around the back of his neck, giving him a pleading look. He stuttered.

Hiiii okay, here we go! A lil bkdk fluff for you.

Number One Hero Izuku “Deku” Midoriya is everybody’s darling. His smile is a national treasure. He consistently tops online popularity polls with his earnestness and that boy-next-door charm. He’s...well, he’s cute, his face is inviting, unconventionally attractive, eyes too big, button nose, chin a little weaker than a top-ten hero’s ought to be. But maybe that’s why the people like him. He’s short for a hero too, just a touch under 5’6”, but the nation’s golden boy spins that to his advantage too. There was the infamous underwear ad—compact pro hero Deku easily lifting Creati (5’10”) up with one arm and Battle Fist (6’) with the other, both ladies in sleek athletic wear in their respective colors, and him in low-slung boxer-briefs. Tight boxer briefs, almost tight enough to be a scandal. “Big things come in small packages” was the campaign slogan, and it shot him to the top of the popularity polls, especially in the under-30s set.

Katsuki’s had to suffer through six months of it plastered on every other billboard—the longest six months of his life so far, and that’s for someone who’s been to war and back.

“Some nice weather today, huh,” Izuku says, smiling, the picture of innocence. He’s got a steamed bun in his hand, convenience store bag hanging from his wrist. His legs dangle over the ledge of their usual mid-shift skyscraper. Behind him, fifty feet high, is one of those fucking underwear ads. The contrast of the giant, near-naked, smouldering Deku on the billboard with the grimy, roughed-up, costume-bundled Deku swinging his feet like a child is too much for Katsuki to handle.

“Hungry?” Izuku says, holding his steamed bun up to Katsuki’s face. The wind lifts Izuku’s hair, whips his freckled cheeks rosy red. He looks like a strawberry, like a sweet matcha latte dusted with cinnamon. He looks like a dream.

“I’m fuckin starving,” Katsuki says, gripping Izuku’s wrist. He bypasses the bun to kiss Izuku’s knuckles.

“Yeah?” Izuku sighs, eyelids drooping.

“Not for lunch, though.” Katsuki pries the bun from his hand, gently wraps it, and stuffs it in the bag.