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the hardline of his body curves against your back, thick arms snaking around your middle in the form of a noose — you’re tied to the pro hero without the ability or strength to escape. “it’s not that i think you’re not capable of the mission, love,” izuku reveals his truth to you, word by word, quietly. his chest expands with a breath that seems to be relieved — being honest with how he truly feels about you. “don’t you think it’s best if someone… higher ranking handles it? you know that your quick can sometimes be… unstable under pressure.”

you flinch. “now you’re just being mean.”

“so you are upset with me,” rolling his emerald eyes, he sounds almost bored, like he finds the whole scenario pointless. the two of you hate to fight but it’s easy to lose against deku’s patronising tone and sassy sigh. “even though i’m the one who got you here on this team. it’s not being mean it’s just honesty.”

“and now you’re telling everyone i can’t hold my ground. do you see how that would upset me?” to prevent you from making a scene, the jaded hero crowds you into a quieter hallway and makes quick work of his hands. one map’s its scarred grip up your abdomen and sternum in a perverse pathway — reaching for your throat using gentle pressure. it’s a grounding reminder, your reality. his thumb presses carefully into your erratic pulse — the ghost of izuku’s smile a whisper against your ear.

the other hand sits between your thighs, practically burning through your spandex hero suit as if it were the very sun Icarus flew too close to.

“you would prefer it if i weren’t honest? if i lied to you? then you’d be all embarrassed and come crying to me and that would make me a bad boyfriend, wouldn’t it?” he bites and snarls, bearing his teeth back to you in hopes that you’ll be good. back down. “i’m just looking out for you, trying to keep my sweet girl safe. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you.”

“i don’t need you always looking out for me.” you argue.

“of course you do, silly girl. i’m your boyfriend,” you know what he means to say. izuku is your hero, he’s everyone’s hero. born from clay and carved to form the legend man will talk of for centuries. every role he’s ever played blends into one, boyfriend, son, hero. to him, they all mean the same thing. control over who survives and who doesn’t — who is worth saving when it comes down to the wire. it doesn’t matter — to him — the strength you possess. you will always be another damsel to him. “why are you being this way?”

“izuku, i’m not being any way!”

“yes, you are. you’re not listening to me right now,” his squeeze around your throat becomes dangerous — threatening to restrict air flow. he wouldn’t dare hurt you and you, quiet frankly, wouldn’t push him off when you very well can. the reason being, that you enjoy his almost cruel control over you because you know that izuku means well. your best interest is at the heart of everything you do. at least that’s what you tell yourself. “come back to me, be my good girl and let me handle this. stay here where i know you’re safe.” he purrs.

despite it all — your frustration bubbles up and manifests in tears and izuku’s knuckle runs rings over your clothed folds as you avidly wipe your face clean. “come now, don’t cry,” he digs deliciously against the slick spot in the front of your hero costume — sloppily kissing your cheek. “let me make it up to you, show you how sorry i am.”

“i won’t do it again.” he murmurs the promise, pace quickening until you’re soaking through to his fingers tips. “i love you so much.”

your head tips backwards against his firm shoulder in a forgiving moan — the situation nearly forgotten, replaced by familiar sensations of ecstasy heading south through the synapses in your body. dully, your clit throbs beneath izuku’s ministrations, pushing fabric side to side over the pleasure centre that pearls with arousal between clothed folds.

“look at how wet this pussy is for me,” izuku chuckles coyly, another victory under his belt. “she’s so sticky. it’s like there was never a problem between us in the first place.”

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