#Mha x Reader
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minkoq · 2 days ago
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🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
texts with the bnha guys; fem! reader (aged up) characters included: katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya iida, eijirou kirishima, denki kaminari.
! you sent them a picture of your kid
warnings: sfw, fluff
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autlantic · 2 days ago
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YOU HAVE A POSTER OF A PRO HERO IN YOUR ROOM | SMAU
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ೃ⁀➷ midoriya, shinso, denki, bakugou
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bunnyyyuu · 3 days ago
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WHOOPSIE DAISY — mha smau
includes: izuku, katsuki, shoto, eijiro, touya, tomura
warnings: fluff, crack, suggestiveness, timeskip/aged up! boys
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dekuneho · 3 days ago
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prohero!katsuki x reader — suggestive, mdni
Walking home alone at this hour is dangerous. Reckless, stupid. You'll get swallowed up by all kinds of creeps, your boyfriend told you once.
That’s why you need a hero to take care of you when this happens.
Pro Hero Dynamight — first in the official Chart, the bastard that makes all the villains shriek and the girls scream — makes this clear as he presses up against your back, thigh peeking between your legs, mouth to the shell of your ear — all for security, of course. He slides a heated hand from your hip to the curve of your thigh, his gloves rough on skin if it weren’t for the barrier of your jeans.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ out here all alone?” Dynamight rasps to your neck.
You gasp at the heat of his body towering over you, feeling a little weak in the knees. A big, strong Pro Hero cornering you like this… It’s a little scandalous. Your heart pounds for all the wrong reasons. “My— My boyfriend's working overtime. He’s a Pro, too, you see. A little too busy for me sometimes, Dynamight, sir.”
His big hand spans across your thigh, a steady weight that twitches at your formal address. It explores boldly. “A Pro, huh,” he echoes, gripping your chin to press his mouth against your jaw. “Looks like he ain’t doin’ his job to me.”
You shudder, and he follows it with a finger trailing up your spine near possessively, a dragon to his newly-found treasure. You tilt your head to meet the pierce of his red eyes, too helpless to not draw closer to the mouth that’s putting you in a trance with each filthy word. A handsome man like him, so eager to touch you... Who is to blame you, really? Your boyfriend’s left you a little needy.
“Ah, but — it’s okay.” You squirm and look up at him through your lashes. Coy and easy. “I’m used to taking care of myself. He’s busy enough.”
“He’s a jackass,” Dynamight says fiercely, half-distracted by your mouth.
You nearly break character, a little laugh slipping out. And with the way he grins, he knows what he’s doing wrong.
“Ahem. Dynamight, sir,” you return seamlessly, with the grace of a professional. Your back arches willingly as he drags you impossibly close, hip to hip. “We can’t… not like this. Someone might see.”
“Who gives a shit,” he says, then grips one whole thigh and squeezes appreciatively. “You’re already ruttin’ against me like a horndog, anyway.”
“Like a—” Incensed, you slap his chest, then hit it a few times more out of frustration. “Katsuki, gross! Stop ruining the scene, dammit.”
“What?” Katsuki’s frowns rather theatrically. The picture of innocence that doesn’t quite fit with his growing smug grin. “I didn’t ruin anything. Look, I’m still har—”
“Okay.” You exhale sharply, pushing away from him. Katsuki laughs, trying to pull you back to him, cooing. “You know what? Just skip the foreplay and take me home.”
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skiiyoomin · 2 days ago
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thank you for doing the last smau with the MHA boys getting into a fight because of you! can I request another smau with telling them "don't get mad okay"?
ღ"Don't get mad okay?"
ʚft.Deku, Bakugou, Shoto, Kirishima, Denki, Shinsou
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ʚCont: crack⤑Back to navigation
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21280 · 2 days ago
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mha reactions to their kid being disrespectful towards their mom ?
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mom! reader, girl dads! tdbkdk, inspired by the newest scenes i had to witness of my little cousin this holiday season. i can't use my childhood because i met 'mr belt' and i never misbehaved since.
IZUKU MIDORIYA as . . . the nice cop.
— izuku would probably be gentle with his parenting, and that's why he's in this situation in the first place. he's the type of parent that tries to reason with his child with a very nice voice, which ends up accidentally raising a manipulative child. even so, he'll never raise his voice towards his child, but he'll definitely get more serious. especially if she's being disrespectful towards his wife.
it was a tranquil sunday afternoon, where you and your family had visited izuku's mother for lunch. excited for the community pool, your daughter went dressed in her green sundress and her little mermaid swimsuit underneath. her smile dropped when she heard the news.
"i'm sorry, sweetie, the pool is closed!" you frowned, to which your daughter started crying. trying to comfort her, you guided her towards the bathroom to change clothes. what you weren't expecting though, was...
"don't touch me! leave me alone, you witch!"
izuku had never sprinted towards you faster in his life, eyes widened in disbelief. he lowered down to his daughter's height, as he called her attention. "hey kiddo, you didn't really mean that, right?"
your daughter nodded, "mommy won't let me go to the pool" she cried. "she's mean and a witch!"
izuku sighed as he patted his daughter's head, ruffling her hair. "the pool is closed, baby. we can come back tomorrow when it opens, okay? but never call mommy that again, yeah? you hurt her and my feelings that way. now, apologize to your mom."
"'m sorry mommy."
"and you'll never go to the pool again" you whispered to your husband, to which he nodded. "and then, maybe, we won't take you to the pool because you weren't nice to mommy. you have to love your mommy and treat her well" he added.
your daughter cried some more because she would never go to the pool again.
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KATSUKI BAKUGO as . . . the restrained cop.
— katsuki would try to be gentle, but with his tone of voice, it would come out horribly. and if. his daughter is an exact copy of him? he would be pissed off and would probably ask you to reason with her first, because fighting fire with fire is horrible. when he finds out your daughter is disrespectful to you, though, he has to control himself not to scream at his child.
trying to teach your daughter to eat different foods was hard. and during the holidays? it was a nightmare.
when you sat beside her trying to spoon-feed her a small piece of turkey, she gagged. "gross! i'm not hungry. mommy made gross food! ew, ew, ew!"
katsuki's head quickly turned to the table where you sat, trying to reason with your daughter. as you fed her the food, she chewed it, and then opened her mouth. she spit. the food. on her hand.
katsuki had a face that read 'i know damn well she didn't, as he stepped closer. when you asked your daughter to please eat and to not waste any food, she snapped.
"shut up mommy!"
"who do ya think yer talking to, kid? huh? that's your mom" katsuki snaps, which earned a sob from his daughter. he realized he should've used a softer tone, but tough love, right? he was raised like that and he turned out fine.
"kid, do you know that mommy's hurt by the way you talked to her? see how ya started cryin' when i yelled? momma feels that way when ya don't treat her well. apologize."
your kid had never apologized quicker.
muttering a soft 'thank you', you turned to your daughter and helped her clean up her hand. katsuki, in the meantime, started wondering.
was the turkey he baked really that gross?
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SHOTO TODOROKI as . . . the traumatized cop?
— shoto would try to do everything he can to not resemble his father. and if he ended up with a troubled kid, he would be very patient. if his daughter is disrespectful to his wife, he'd definitely be upset. he would also try to reason with her. he would pull the 'you wanna know how i got this scar' if things get really serious.
when you and your daughter were arguing upstairs, as you tried to dress her up for another todoroki family reunion. when she didn't want to get dressed, she cried.
"i'm going to tell daddy you hit me."
"sweetheart, please listen to me—"
bang.
your daughter threw herself onto the desk to her right, and started weeping more tears as she wailed, "daddy, mommy hit me!"
shoto ran up the stairs to find your weeping daughter and you with the most distressed look on your face. "did you?" he asked, to which you scoffed. "do you really think—"
"—i know you'd never" shoto cut you off, "but i had to ask. she needs to learn about trust, and not to lie."
your husband turned to her daughter, picking her up and cradling her on his arms. "where does it hurt?" he asked, as your daughter pointed at her forehead. his lips placed quick, caring kisses on your daughter's forehead as his expression turned more serious. "i want you to tell me the truth, (daughter's name). did mommy really hit you?"
your daughter looked around, her gaze finally fixating on the ground as she muttered a quiet 'no'.
"then why did you say that?"
she cried some more as she muttered nonsense into your husband's shoulders. shoto's hand cupped her cheek so she would look at him. "do you know how i got this scar?", he asked, to which she shook her head.
"my family was not very nice, and i ended up hurt" he stated, "and mommy is doing everything she can for you to feel loved. is this how we should be with mommy?"
your daughter shook her head.
"your mommy is very caring and nice with you, and we should be the same way with her. now, what do we say to her?"
"...sorry mommy."
"that's much better, my love. let's not do this again."
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kateschi · 23 hours ago
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back in action
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synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.
pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader
⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine
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you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.
not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.
no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.
the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.
the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.
the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.
and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.
each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.
so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.
“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.
he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.
a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”
he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”
“well, I mean it every damn day.”
he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”
“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”
“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”
“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”
he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.
“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.
your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”
“it’s a back,” he deadpans.
“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.
he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”
“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”
“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.
it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.
katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.
"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.
he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.
"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"
“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."
katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."
"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"
he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.
you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”
later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.
it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.
the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.
it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.
you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.
“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.
you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"
"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"
you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."
his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."
you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.
but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.
so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.
he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."
and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.
for all the wrong reasons.
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kofi — navigation — masterlist
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do not copy, translate, or plagarize
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ladyymiisa · 2 days ago
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PINCH ‘EM!
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summary: katsuki just loves your cheeks!
tags: katsuki bakugo x fem!reader, fluff, katsuki and reader are still in high-school, katsuki is a tease
author’s note: starting the new year off strong with katsuki fluff!! i luv him sm
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if there’s one thing about you that drives katsuki absolutely insane on a daily basis, it’s your cheeks.
those soft, round, ridiculously cute, rosy cheeks that make his brain glitch like an old vending machine. they give him such violent cuteness aggression that he’s genuinely considered throwing himself off a rooftop just to reset. it’s humiliating, really, how much power your dumb face has over him.
but watching you eat? that’s a whole other level of torture. the way your cheeks puff out with every bite, like you’re stockpiling food for winter, makes his eye twitch in equal parts annoyance and affection. he calls you chipmunk, because honestly, you might as well be one. it’s absurd, it’s irrational, and it’s ruining his life. but here he is, still watching, still obsessed, like the fool he is.
“kats—ow!” you whine mid food gulp, flinching as his fingers suddenly latch onto your cheeks like a crab on a mission. with zero warning, he starts squishing and pulling them, treating your face like it’s his own personal stress toy. “what the hell are you doing?”
you manage to gripe, trying to pry his hands off your poor, defenseless cheeks. your words are muffled as he stretches them in every direction, but he doesn’t bother answering. he’s far too focused on whatever weird satisfaction he’s getting from turning your face into putty in his hands.
“try that again,” he growls, giving your cheeks another firm pinch, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “and i’ll squeeze ‘em even harder.”
you glare at him, your face still trapped in his grip. it’s hard to take him seriously when his smug smirk is stretched across his face like he just won the lottery. however, it’s clear that your discomfort is his entertainment, and it makes you want to bite back, but you can’t seem to muster the energy to do so.
meanwhile, katsuki is having the time of his life. it’s not his fault your skin is so damn malleable, like some kind of stress ball he can just squish and pull at his leisure. with every pinch, your face contorts in the most ridiculous ways, and it only makes his shit-eating smirk grow wider, as if he’s proud of the mess he’s making.
“y’look so stupid,” he mutters under his breath, loud enough for you to hear, though it sounds more like he’s speaking to himself. “stupid chipmunk,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost fond.
before you can even process what’s happening, his face is in front of yours, and with no warning, he plants a big, exaggerated smooch right on your lips. it’s awkward, considering how he’s still squishing your cheeks together, making your lips pucker out like a weird fish, but somehow, you can’t help but find it endearing.
then he does it again, this time a bit harder. and again. and again. each kiss lands wherever he can reach—your lips, your nose, your forehead, even your eyelids—like he’s trying to cover every inch of your face. you feel warmth spread across your chest from the tenderness of his gestures, even if they’re a little ridiculous. despite the absurdity of the situation, there’s something unexpectedly sweet about the way he’s so gentle with you, even when he’s teasing you relentlessly.
you’re about to tease him right back for being such a softie, ready to throw out a playful jab when, of course, he just has to ruin the moment.
“ew, katsuki!” you yelp, your voice high-pitched with surprise as he suddenly sinks his teeth into your right cheek. it’s not hard enough to hurt, more like a playful nip, but it’s wet and the way his tongue shamelessly flickers against the bite mark sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. you try to push him off, but he’s latched onto you like some feral animal.
“seriously?!” you gasp, squirming in his grip, but he remains completely unbothered. “this is disgusting! my cheek’s all wet now!” you cry, twisting and turning in his arms, trying to wipe the saliva off with your shoulder.
“serves you right for biting my shoulder earlier. y’thought i’d forget? hah.” he says with a wicked smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the mess he’s made of your face—flustered, pouty, and still glistening with the aftermath of his attack.
you groan, smacking his chest in frustration, but the bastard doesn’t even flinch. in fact, he looks proud of himself.
“you’re the absolute worst, katsuki bakugo.” you glare at him, half-exasperated, half-amused.
“yeah, i’m fuckin’ terrible,” he grins, clearly enjoying the annoyance in your voice. to emphasize his words—and to annoy you even further probably—he pinches the same cheek he just bit like an overbearing grandma checking to see if you had enough to eat.
yup, katsuki loves your cheeks, especially when they’re all flushed because of him.
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1simpchunkygirl · 1 day ago
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This is delicious ( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡( ´ ▽ ` ).。o♡
HORNY BRAINROT.
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☆ includes: aged up! various characters from bnha
☆ warnings: 18+ content, reader is gn or fem depending on the scenario, drug use (weed & alcohol), somnophilia (consent given prior!!), nsfw. not proofread
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thinking of izuku coming back home after a long day at the agency; he bends you over the kitchen table you were both about to eat on, and he skips dinner and goes in for dessert between your thighs.
sucking on eijirou’s cock desperately while he pushes your head down and tells you to take it. when he gets close, he yanks your head off him and you switch to jerking him off, your eyes closing as his cum sprays on your face. he groans loudly when you sweep your fingers across your wet skin and then suck on them, looking up at him innocently.
always a lover of public sex, dabi fucks you in alleyways, on rooftops, behind cars at night, and all across the city. he especially enjoys taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat — he often fucks you like this in sight of the sky during the #2 hero’s patrols.
sometimes hitoshi can’t sleep, so he gently pulls the blankets away from your sleeping figure, admiring you in the dark. he’ll kiss your tummy, hips, and pelvis, then peel away your underwear, his tongue rushing to taste the sweetness between your folds. when you cum, you moan as though you’re in a dream, rarely waking up — occasionally he’ll make you cum so hard you wake up gasping his name.
keigo finds himself feeling overwhelmed when you ride him, his eyes rolling back and his entire body shaking each time he sees your greedy pussy swallow the whole length of his cock. as he unravels more and more, his wings represent how he feels with their wild movements. when he cums loudly, his wings rush in, wrapping around the both of you, pulling you close to him.
despite his shy demeanor, tamaki is a FREAK. he’ll have you sit in a chair, blindfolded, limbs tied to the back and the legs. then, he’ll tease you with kisses and touches, lightly slapping your thighs if you try to pull free to touch him. after a long while, he’ll spread your pussy open and spit onto your clit, then tease you further.
speaking of spitting, katsuki enjoys spitting into your pussy as well, or making you spit onto his cock to lube it up for sex or jerking him off.
i offer u: denki + hanta tag team. hanta’s on his back, your back is on his chest, his cock is stretching out your ass. while he’s thrusting up into your ass and holding you close, denki’s fucking in and out of your pussy with his overstimulated cock. his cum drips from your cunt and trickles down hanta’s cock, adding more lubrication. a threesome with these two would be insane because they would try out every position and cum once from it before stopping.
despite hating it when you edge him, shoto loves it. he’ll sigh shakily, hissing out, “ah— god, make me cum already, stop fucking with me!” but when you let him get real close, he begs you to stop and edge him. it’s confusing but ultimately he enjoys it, and always cries when he cums after edging.
drinking with katsuki always gets rowdy; he’ll show you off, get jealous more easily, and fuck you harder. after a night at the bar and way too many shots, he hops into an uber with you and heads to an expensive hotel instead of your home. katsuki books a big room, the one with the best view of the city and streets (it’s also 2-4 stories up from the lobby). when you get into the room, he practically rips your clothes off, pushing you against the big window overseeing the people and cars beneath. then, he fucks you right against the window, your tits pressed against the glass.
dry humping with eijirou in his agency office with an unlocked door, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy through layers and layers of clothing. when his precum is dripping through his underwear, and your panties are soaked with your slick, he removes whatever’s in the way, besides your underwear. when you start to get loud as his clothed cock creates more friction against you, he pulls off your wet underwear and stuffs them into your mouth, saying, “shh, baby. you have to be quiet, okay? don’t want any of the staff coming in, right?”
sharing a joint with keigo on the balcony of your shared apartment, plumes of smoke swirling around you as he spreads your legs. he always enjoys making out with your pussy before he eats you out, taking your folds and clit between his lips as he drags his tongue against you. he stares up at you with reddened eyes, desperate for your approving moans and facial expressions.
being fucked doggy style by izuku, either in your pussy or ass, as he praises you and your beautiful reflection in the mirror. “oh, you’re so gorgeous.. make me feel so damn lucky every time i look at you.” if you refuse to look, he leans over you, his pecs pressing into your upper back as he tugs your chin. he demands, “watch yourself cum” or “if you look away, i’ll stop pounding you”
shoto always cums within a few minutes of 69ing with you.. the way you desperately hump at his face and gobble down his cock always proves to be too damn much for him. he used to feel embarrassed, but now he just pushes through the overstimulation and adjusts you how he likes, slurping at your pussy loudly as you moan on his cock.
sexting with denki during his work hours, and sending him sneaky photos of your tits/ass/pussy when you know he’s busy. he’s always so quick to read your messages, and he rushes to the bathroom to hide his boner in a stall. he texts you to tell you what he’s gonna do to you, how desperate he is, or he’ll send mirror selfies, his hard cock visible through his pants.
phone sex with dabi, who easily makes you torture yourself. and god, does he sound good — he tells you what to do, rewarding you with his moans/groans or pictures. he’ll talk you through your orgasm, demanding that you keep fingering yourself or stop to ruin it. if you sob over his instructions, he’ll briefly reassure you, and then tell you to shut up and do what he says (he reminds you to be a good girl/slut or threatens to not fuck you).
god.. hitoshi loves filming you going dumb on his cock. most of the videos in his ‘us vids’ folder start off with him praising you as he moves the camera around your body, capturing every inch of you. “so pretty, god damn.” as the video progresses from gentle to rougher, his hand is wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough for you to gasp often. you’re a mess, babbling pleas as you cry his name, eyes rolling back and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. by the time he’s cumming, you’re begging for him to fill you up, not a single other thought in your head. later, still filming, he thumbs away the saliva at the corner of your mouth; he kisses you and asks if you’re okay.
food play with tamaki, who eagerly gobbles strawberries off your tits, or the whipped cream designs all over your pelvis. even after your skin is free from all the sweetness or its residue, he licks you hungrily, then starts to bite hickeys into your skin. he blushes when you pinch one of his sensitive ears between your fingers and give it a tug — “tamaki, put your tongue to good use and eat me out.”
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seumyo · 3 days ago
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I WANT TO BE FOREVER YOUNG
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PROMPT. How they mourn when you were gone too soon. You did worry about getting old, didn’t you?
FEATURING. Midoriya I., Bakugou K., Todoroki S., Shinsou H.
NOTE. I’m testing the waters with angst content + formatting style for multiple drabbles—so forgive me if it’s not that good!
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MIDORIYA IZUKU — Sees you in someone else.
Midoriya Izuku found passion in teaching. It’s a life-changing job that molds each and every student into the person they want to become with the help of people like him.
His students, vibrant and full of life, were so much like his old classmates—and among them was Takashiro Ayane, her laughter light and melodic as she teased one of her friends about their clumsy landing during training.
It reminded him of someone. Someone close.
You.
And the thought always came to him, even when he didn’t mean to. Even at the most random times.
Ayane’s resemblance to you was uncanny. It wasn’t just her kindness or the gentle way she spoke; it was in the way she held herself, her subtle but unwavering resolve. Midoriya could see flashes of you in her—the friend who had once been a constant source of warmth in his turbulent journey at U.A. High.
As Ayane reached up to adjust her headband, smiling brightly, Midoriya felt a pang in his chest. The sight was like a memory brought to life, a reminder of your soft-spoken encouragement and the way she always stood firm despite her fears.
God, it felt like seeing you all over again.
“Sensei!” another student called out, pulling him back to the present. “Did you see that move? I think it might actually work in combat! Or support, if I feel like it.”
Midoriya blinked, shaking off the haze of memories. “Y-Yeah, it looked great!” he replied, mustering enthusiasm. “Your timing’s improving a lot—keep it up!”
He tried to push the thought aside, focusing on the here and now, but it was no use. The resemblance was too striking, and his heart felt heavy with the weight of unspoken grief. You were gone, after all. Gone too soon.
As the students broke into laughter again, something about the carefree sound and the dynamic of his students triggered a reflex. Without thinking, he spoke, his voice soft yet audible enough to be heard.
“[First Name], I—”
Your name left his lips before he realized it, and the world seemed to freeze. The students fell silent, their laughter replaced by curious stares. Ayane tilted her head; confusion could be seen in her face.
Midoriya’s heart sank as he realized his mistake. He quickly forced a smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I mean Takashiro,” he corrected, craning a hand to the back of his neck.
“Sorry about that. Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
The students exchanged glances, a few offering polite chuckles before moving on. The moment passed, yet for Midoriya, the weight of it lingered. He stayed behind as the students began their walk back to the main building, his gaze fixed on the ground.
Everything came flooding in his mind. Like a relentless tide that swept him away. Your jokes, your laugh, and the countless little moments that had defined your friendship.
He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years, not since your passing. Now, saying it felt like reopening an old wound, one he had carefully avoided for so long. But he could only do so much avoidance ‘til he has to terms with it.
“Sensei?”
The gentle voice startled him, and he looked up to see Ayane standing a few steps away. Her expression was concerned; her head tilted slightly as she studied him.
“Are you okay?” she asked softly. “You seemed... distracted earlier.”
Midoriya hesitated. The words caught in his throat as he wrestled with how to respond. How could he explain to his student that she reminded him of his dead friend?
What kind of teacher would he be if he were to say that? The awful, grieving kind, he bets.
“I’m fine, Takashiro,” he said finally, forcing a smile. “Just a little tired, that’s all. You know how these long training sessions can be.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced but nodded anyway. “If you ever need to talk, Sensei... we’re here for you too. Fighting!”
“Midoriya, grow a spine! Fighting!”
Her words hit too close to home.
“Thank you,” he could only murmur.
Ayane lingered for a moment before turning to join her classmates. He remained there, rooted to the spot as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. The golden light bathed the empty training grounds, and the silence felt heavier than usual.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried to move on, but I see you everywhere. In everything. In everyone.”
His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mix of regret and longing washing over him. “You were right about so many things,” he continued, his voice barely audible. “I just wish you were here to see it—to see how far we’ve all come.”
But you weren’t here anymore, and that’s the problem.
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Bakugou Katsuki — Mourns you longer than he’d known you.
Cemeteries never brought discomfort to Bakugou. Not until you died, that is.
The place stretches out in solemn silence; the faint rustle of leaves in the hedges are the only sounds he heard as he trudged along the familiar gravel path. His boots made dull, deliberate crunches against the fallen leaves, the heaviness of his steps matching the weight in his chest.
In his hands, he carried the usual offerings: a bouquet of red spider lilies tied neatly with a ribbon, a box of your favorite sweet treats—melon pan today—and the incense sticks he always lit with care. It had been years since your passing, but for Bakugou, the loss felt as raw as if it had been yesterday.
He approached your gravestone, its surface polished and pristine, just as he always left it. Your name was etched into the stone with delicate precision, the sight of it both grounding and crushing. As if to remind him that you weren’t coming back because you’re just here, waiting for someone to visit you.
Bakugou knelt, his movements stiff and reluctant, as though even now he couldn’t fully accept your absence. Why can’t he accept it?
“Yo, dummy,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the lilies from their wrapping and placing them carefully at the vase near the gravestone. He adjusted them twice, three times, until they looked just right. His eyes lingered on the name etched into the cold stone, a bitterness creeping into his tone.
“Brought your damn flowers again. Hope you appreciate it.”
The sarcasm in his words was thinly veiled; beneath it lay the unmistakable ache of someone who had loved and lost far too deeply.
He pulled out the incense sticks next, lighting them with a practiced flick beneath his palm. You would’ve loved to see him do it in person; maybe light up a candle or two when the power goes out during your high school dorm days. The smell of sandalwood quickly mingled with the damp earth, and Bakugou leaned back on his heels, staring at the curling smoke.
“Another week down,” he began, his voice quieter now. “Another round of saving people, making headlines, being the ‘Great Dynamight.’ ” He spat the title out like it was poison.
“It’s what you always said I’d do, isn’t it? Go big; make my mark. But, damn it, [Last Name], none of it means anything without you here to see it.”
He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as the familiar wave of guilt and frustration washed over him. His head dipped as he let out a long, ragged breath.
“I thought time was supposed to make this easier,” Bakugou admitted, his voice rough. “It’s been... what? Seven years now? And every damn day, it still feels like you’re just gonna show up out of nowhere, like you’re gonna annoy the hell outta me with one of your stupid jokes.”
The thought made his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, though it was laced with sadness. He could almost hear your voice—that gentle yet persistent tone you’d use whenever she tried to drag him along to something.
“C’mon, Bakugou, I’ll need someone to bail me out of jail! You’ll regret it if you don’t come along.”
And you were right. He regretted it now. Every single refusal, every grumbled excuse, every moment he could’ve spent with you and didn’t.
“You were annoying as hell,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But you were... you were good. Too good.” His fists loosened, his hands falling limply to his sides.
“And you didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to go like that.” Bakugou remembers the time he almost stained his conduct by almost killing the villain that got to you.
It’s unfair, isn’t it? The villain got to live behind bars, while you lost yours.
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves in the trees above. Bakugou tilted his head back, glaring up at the overcast sky as though it were to blame for everything.
“They don’t tell you how much it fucking hurts,” he said bitterly. “To lose someone like you. They don’t tell you that the longer it’s been, the harder it gets, ‘cause every year just reminds me of how much more I’ve missed. How much quicker I could’ve been.”
He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, weathered notebook. It was yours, something your family had found amongst your belongings after you passed. They wanted him to have it since his name was always frequently mentioned. The edges were frayed, the pages creased from countless readings, but it was his most treasured possession.
Bakugou would rather die than even let a single drop of water meet one of its pages.
Flipping it open, he scanned your handwriting, some neat and some looking as though you couldn’t be bothered with basic penmanship. He stopped on a page that always gutted him.
Life’s short. Spend it with the people who matter. Don’t let moments slip away! :P
His thumb brushed over the words, his jaw tightening.
“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed. “You don’t have to keep reminding me, you know. I get it. Too late, but I get it.”
He placed the notebook on the gravestone, letting it rest there for a moment before tucking it back into his pocket. His hand lingered on the cold stone, his fingers tracing the engraved letters of your name.
“You were supposed to stick around,” he said softly. “Supposed to keep bugging me, keep dragging me out of my own damn head. Now I’m stuck here, talking to a rock, and it’s not the same. It’ll never be the same.”
The clouds began to part, a faint beam of sunlight breaking through and casting a soft glow over the gravestone. Bakugou stared at it, his eyes unreadable. He’s thinking.
“I’ll keep coming back,” he finally said, his voice steadier now.
“Every week, every month, every damn year. You’re not gonna be forgotten. Not by me.”
He stood slowly, his body heavy with exhaustion and grief. Adjusting the incense sticks and flowers one last time, he stepped back, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“See you next time, dummy,” he murmured, his voice low. “Don’t forget about me or whatever, whever you are.”
As Bakugou walked away, the wind carried the faint scent of incense and the quiet promise of a man who would mourn you longer than he’d ever known you.
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TODOROKI SHOUTO — Learns things that reminded him of you.
Todoroki knows that he’s been busy. It’s in the way the white camellias he brought you months ago are now wilted, showing their dried-up state. His fingers brush against the wilted petals, lingering as if to apologize for not visiting sooner.
“I still remember the last thing you said to me,” he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with an ache he couldn’t quite put into words. “It wasn’t even anything serious—just you scolding me for not eating enough during lunch. You were always so good at taking care of me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
He glanced down, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, bittersweet smile. The image of you—scolding, your hands on your hips as you tried to hide your worry—was etched so vividly into his memory that he could almost hear your voice.
Todoroki’s gaze traveled to the offerings he had brought with him: a fresh bouquet of camellia, a neatly folded scarf he had knitted in one of his new hobbies that he took up classes for, and a small pack of your favorite matcha-flavored sweets. “I know you’d laugh at me for picking up knitting,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But... it’s calming. I think you’d appreciate that. You always said I needed to find something that made me happy outside of being a hero.”
The scarf was simple, a pale green color that reminded him of the shade you loved wearing. He had spent hours perfecting it, thinking of how you might have joked about him for being so precise yet ultimately praised his effort.
“I hope you’d like it,” he whispered, setting it down carefully beside the gravestone. “I thought about giving it to someone else, but it felt wrong. It’s yours.”
Todoroki draws in a breath, closing his eyes, letting the stillness of the place envelop him. Yet in the quiet, his mind raced with so many thoughts all at once.
“I also learned how to cook,” he tells you—he tells your grave. “It’s not as good as yours, but Bakugou’s been helping.”
He thought of your childhood, how you had been his only light during the dark days of his father’s strict training. How you had been this bubbly girl that the teacher often praised, how you had stood by him when he was still new to making friends at the nursery, offering him a hand when he thought he didn’t deserve one.
“You were the best person I knew. And I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve that, [Last Name]. You were my friend when I didn’t know how to be one back.”
The pain of those words hung heavy in the air, and Todoroki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had spent years replaying your interactions, wishing he had done things differently. If he had done things differently, you would’ve been here, probably teasing him for taking up chopstick-making classes.
“I was so angry back then,” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the gravestone. “At my father, at myself, at the world. And I took it out on you, the one person who never stopped trying to help me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone, but... I needed you.”
Another tear slipped down his cheek, and he hastily wiped it away, frustrated by the way his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was the Number Two Hero now, a symbol of strength and perseverance. Yet here, in front of you, he felt like the lost, broken little boy that longed for his first friend.
“I need you now, please.”
The sound of a bird chirping nearby pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at the sky. The sun was setting, casting a hue that reminded him of your warmth.
You did like sunsets, didn’t you?
“You’d probably scold me for crying,” he said with a faint chuckle, though his voice still wavered. “You always hated seeing me upset. But I think it’s okay this time. You’re worth crying over.”
He knelt down again, his fingers brushing over the engraved letters of your name.
“Shoucchan! You can’t cry! We can be partners—the best partners!”
Yes, partners. The best partners for as long as you’ll have him.
“I’m trying to live the way you wanted me to,” he continued. “To find happiness outside of being a hero. To be someone you’d be proud of. But it’s hard, [Last Name]. It’s hard without you.”
He stayed there for what felt like hours, speaking to you as though you were sitting beside him, as though your gentle presence could somehow reach across the veil of death. He told you about his hero work, about the classes he was taking, about the little moments of joy he tried to find in a life that often felt too heavy.
Finally, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he rose to his feet. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but he barely noticed.
“I’ll come back,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the tears that still shimmered in his eyes. “And I won’t let you wait so long again. Next time, I’ll bring something better than just a flower. Maybe one of those awful paintings you always said I should make.”
As he turned to leave, he hesitated, glancing back at the gravestone one last time. As if you’d be there with open arms, waiting for him.
“Thank you,” he whispered, the words carrying a weight that only you could understand.
He walked away slowly, the sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness. The cemetery grew quiet once more, the only reminder of his visit the small offerings left behind—silent testaments to a bond that even death could not sever.
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SHINSOU HITOSHI — Avoidance by all means necessary, until he finally caves in.
If you were to ask Shinsou what his prized possession was, he’ll tell you that it’s a shoe box. A shoe box that seemed to hold the world—your world, with remnants of a friendship that had lasted his entire life—a lifetime with you.
Shinsou sat on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hovering over the box as though touching it might shatter him. He had been avoiding this moment for weeks. The funeral had been a blur, the condolences—a cacophony of words that didn’t mean anything because he knew that they couldn’t possibly understand how it feels. Everyone seemed to know the right things to say, except him.
All he had wanted was for you to be there, to laugh at how awkward he was with the whole ordeal.
Now, it was just silence.
With a deep breath, he finally reached into the box, pulling out the first item: a knitted scarf, a rich shade of violet. It was slightly uneven, the handiwork amateur at best, but it was one of the first gifts you’d ever made for him. He could still remember your smile when you handed it over during your middle school years.
“I thought it’d look good on you,” you had said, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Don’t laugh! It’s my first try. Nuh uh, I’m taking this back—Hitoshi!”
He hadn’t laughed. Ok, maybe just a quiet chuckle, but he had worn it every winter since.
He leaned forward again, staring into the box. Inside were the tokens of a life intertwined with his—handmade crafts, small souvenirs, and letters tied with ribbons in colors you knew he liked. Each item was a story, a piece of you you had given him, never expecting you would be taken away so soon.
He gently picked up a small ceramic cat figurine, its paint slightly chipped. It was from one of your family trips abroad.
“I saw this and thought of you!”
Younger Shinsou blinked, confused.
“Me?”
You nodded. “You’re like this cat. All serious, but secretly soft and comforting.”
Shinsou chuckled softly at the memory, though the sound was tinged with sadness. He had teased you for it back then, calling it tacky, but it had ended up on his desk at home. Now, it felt like a sacred relic.
Setting the figurine down, he reached for another item. Shinsou pulled out a small, framed photo of the two of you at a summer festival. He was scowling at the camera while you grinned beside him, holding up two sticks of cotton candy. It was one of the rare times you had dragged him out, insisting he needed to “experience life beyond his walls” when he just wanted to sleep in.
He’d go to every summer festival in the country—even if it meant losing sleep—as long as he gets to do it with you.
The frame trembled slightly in his grip as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
He pulls out a well-worn journal. It was yours. He hesitated, knowing that opening it would feel both comforting and unbearably painful. After a moment, he gave in, flipping through the pages.
Inside were your thoughts—notes about school, sketches of the two of them, and half-finished poems you had written during quiet afternoons.
The prince has been so stressed lately.
I wish I could take it all away.
He deserves the world, but he won’t let himself believe it.
Maybe one day he’ll see himself the way I do.
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. You had always been like that—putting everyone else first, even when you had your own struggles. He closed the journal and held it to his chest, his breath shaky.
“I should’ve told you,” he whispered. “I should’ve told you how much you meant to me.”
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally spilled over, sliding down his cheeks as he sat there in the coming twilight. He thought back to the nights they had spent stargazing, sharing their dreams and fears. You had been his constant, his answer, his light, even when he didn’t know he needed one.
His phone buzzed again, a reminder that the world kept moving even when his had stopped. He glanced at the screen—it was a message from his secretary.
Meeting tomorrow at 9, Sir. You told me to remind you.
Shinsou scoffed bitterly, tossing the phone aside. Work didn’t matter right now. Nothing did.
He looked back into the box and pulled out a small, intricately folded paper crane. He had almost forgotten about it. It was from your high school years, during a particularly tough exam season.
“This is for luck,” you had said, carefully handing it to him with an awed expression. “And if it doesn’t work, at least it’s cute, right?”
He remembered stuffing it into his pocket, too embarrassed to admit how much it meant to him at the time. Now, it felt like a lifeline.
As he unfolded the crane carefully, a note inside revealed itself. The ink was slightly faded, but your handwriting was unmistakable.
You’re going to be amazing. Always.
A choked sob escaped him, and he clenched the note tightly in his fist. You had believed in him, even when he hadn’t believed in himself. He wished he could’ve seen this sooner.
When it got dark, Shinsou didn’t bother turning on the lights. The silence felt appropriate—a space for his grief to exist without judgment.
“I miss you,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “I don’t even know how to keep going without you.”
He glanced at the small collection of gifts and letters spread out on the table. Each one was a reminder of the life you two had shared—a life you had enriched with your thoughtfulness and love.
Though the pain was overwhelming, Shinsou knew he couldn’t let your memory fade. You had given him so much, and the least he could do was honor you by living the way you would have wanted—fully and without regret.
“I’ll keep going,” he said softly, almost as if speaking to you. “You’d probably get mad if I slept in.”
The room remained quiet, save for the faint sound of the wind outside. But for Shinsou, it felt as though you were still there, your presence lingering in every corner of his heart.
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SEUMYO © 2025, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
289 notes · View notes
inumkii · 24 hours ago
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sparring partner
bakugou, shouto, hawks
you get injured when training with them
notes: suggestive for keigo, bakugou may be ooc
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211 notes · View notes
lookingforuravity · 23 hours ago
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now that the 2020 trend is back can we PLEASE revive the banger ass wattpad fics?😭
278 notes · View notes
1simpchunkygirl · 23 hours ago
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He can definitely teach me a few things in person (≧◡≦) (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ
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❥ SHOTA AIZAWA X FEM!READER
❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k
❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: cam girl!reader, former student/teacher relationship (but you're still his ~favorite~), praise, mutual masturbation, sex toys, use of "good girl", lots of dirty talk, aizawa is a pervert and we all know it
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→ Kinktober Masterlist ←
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“Look how far you’ve come.” Shota loves how you still tremble at his praise, fingers faltering on the screen. “Remember when you used to be so shy? And now you’re just spreading your pussy open for me.” 
His gaze follows every movement, breath in his throat as you part your labia and slide your fingers down your folds.
He really thought it was just a rumor that the young generation of heroes had taken to social media to make money. Less villains meant less pay, sure, but he never thought he’d find you on one of his favorite sites, using the body he trained to stuff yourself with toys.
“You were always one of my favorites. Always such a good girl.” 
“I’m still a good girl, Sensei. Promise.”
You prove your point by smearing your fingers over your clit, moaning as your hips buck.
“Yeah? Then show me your face, sweetheart. Wanna fist my cock to every inch of you.”
It’s so wrong. He feels like a dirty old fuck in his bedroom, sweats shoved down to his knees and his laptop screen glowing in the dark on the bed next to him. His camera faces the muscles of his chest, angled just perfectly so you can see the dark trail of hair that leads down to his cock. The frame captures the pump of his bicep as he strokes his dick, yet he leaves it up to your imagination to piece together what’s happening off screen. 
“Then you have to show me your face too, okay?” 
There’s the nervousness he’s used to hearing crackle in your sweet voice. Always so studious, so sweet, the most pleasant of all the brats to deal with. You only ever wanted to please. 
He knew it was you by your bedspread in the thumbnail to your page. You still have the same pillows you used to have at U.A., all plush and girly with a memorable stuffie tucked off to the side.
“Maybe next time,” he offers, watching your tits heave and nipples tighten as you debate fulfilling his request. 
Your camera lens is focused from the bottom of your bed, allowing him the perfect view from your spread thighs to your delicate collarbone. You never show your face, not to anyone, not even in one-on-one chat rooms. He read your rules, but he’s special—he’s no scary stranger, just a perverted sicko who wants to watch his former student fuck herself for him.
He shouldn’t be doing this. But god he can’t help himself. He’s seen you flourish as a pro hero, tight suits and bright smiles to the public, and all he’s ever thought about is how fucking pretty you must look naked. 
“Then at least show me your cock, Sensei.”
You have got to stop calling him that. Yet his cock throbs and leaks at the honorific. 
“Fine.”
His simple answer is enough to convince you. You sit up on your knees on the bed and lean forward, making his mouth water as your breasts fill his screen. 
Shota strangles his cock in his fist as all of you comes into view. You raise the camera high enough to show your whole bed from an upward angle, letting him leer at you from head to toe. 
“Atta girl.” He groans as you lean back against your pillows with one hand anxiously running a finger over your lips. You stare right at him through his laptop screen and it makes his balls swell. “I’ve missed your pretty face.”
He watches how his words make you press your already sticky thighs together, like his voice shot straight down to your cunt.
“Oh yeah? Have you missed me, too? Do you think about your old Sensei?”
Moaning, you’re unashamed to slide your hand down your stomach, spreading your thighs so you can relieve the ache he’s building between your legs. 
“Mhmm, I do. Right now I’m thinking about what your cock looks like.” 
He’d almost forgotten his promise. Shota looks down at his length, sucking in a deep breath at the sight of himself swollen and drooling for you. He pumps himself a few times just to feel the pleasure, to gain the courage to drag the laptop with his free hand just enough to bring his dick into the picture.
A sharp little gasp from you echoes into his room and he’s suddenly far too self-satisfied. He admires how you writhe on your bed, pulling your knees up so he can once again see the full image of your wet pussy. 
“You’re so big,” you whisper like you mean it, like you’re wishing you had his cock in your hand instead of his. 
“You think I’d fit inside you, hm?” 
You’re like a curious cat eyeing him across the screen, lashes fluttering as you glance him over from base to tip. You must have a screen set up right next to your camera because your gaze is still meeting his as your head bobs up and down with the way he strokes his cock. 
“I dunno,” you moan as you spread your legs wider, two fingers dipping to prod at your hole, “you’re bigger than my toys.”
“And I bet that little cunt is so tight. Put your fingers in and show me.”
You still listen so obediently, just like when you were his student. 
He thumbs the head of his cock as he watches you sink two fingers into yourself, the microphone picking up the wet squish of your cunt. Your belly tightens with pleasure as you start to pump the digits into your pussy, slow at first and then picking up pace as your bliss builds. 
“Tell me what you would want me to do to you if I was there.”
There’s no filter for him now, not with your messy cunt filling his screen and your hand now plucking at your nipple. 
You take a moment to think, pretty head falling back to the pillows as you moan for him.
“Always wanted to kiss you, Sensei. Want to feel your hands all over me, ah,” you press the palm of your hand against your clit as you talk, making you nearly whine between breaths, “and I’d want your cock in my mouth.”
“You like sucking dick, sweetheart?” 
He starts matching the pace of his fist to your fingers, picturing his cock sliding between your plush, parted lips.
“I like having my face fucked,” you admit and it makes him groan. 
His noise spurs you on, makes you grab your tit and squeeze as your fingers move faster. 
“I’d love to slide my cock past your sweet lips and into your throat. Want you to gag on it, spit running down your face as I take what I want.” 
“Yes, want you to take what you want from me. Want you to use me, fill me up and fuck me with that fat cock, Sensei.” 
He nearly chokes at your words, blushing at how filthy your mouth is. He pumps himself faster, picturing having your soft body in his lap, your sloppy cunt sinking down onto him. 
“How do you want me to fuck you?” 
The moan that sounds from his laptop is so lovely, the slick sound of your fingers in your pussy making him shiver. 
“I can show you?” you ask more than state, pausing to look straight into the camera feed. “With a toy, I mean. Y-you can pick.” 
God, you’re such a delightful little minx. Shota squeezes the base of his cock as the mental image of you fucking yourself on a toy nearly topples him over the edge. He doesn’t know how he will handle actually viewing it. 
“Get your biggest dildo. Let’s see how it compares to me.” 
Any ounce of guilt he feels fades when you return to your bed with a purple, silicone cock, long and thick but not nearly as fat as the throbbing flesh he holds in his hand. 
“Guess you weren’t lying, were you, sweetheart? I’ll be the biggest thing that little pussy has ever taken.” 
Shota doesn’t care if he’s stepping beyond the realm of hypotheticals—he’ll get his hands on you, one way or another, all in due time. 
“Wanna see how I want you to fuck me?” you ask with the cutest smile, like you’re hiding such a naughty secret. 
“Show me. Fuck yourself for me, tell me every little thing I’m doing to you.”
He props an arm behind his head to get comfortable, the muscles of his abs and lats rippling in the dim light of the screen. He threads his fingers through his long hair and tugs the moment he sees you turn and get on your knees, bending until you’re in the most sinful doggy position he’s ever seen. 
“You start slow,” your voice drops to a sensual note, thick like honey, “cause you want me to feel every inch go inside me.”
The hand wrapped around his cock is moving before he can even think to stop, squeezing hard as he watches you reach around your body and start pushing the dildo between your pussy lips. 
Shota gets too close to the screen, strands of black hair grazing the edge of the camera, face still out of sight. His gaze scans from corner to corner, watching as if he intends to commit every single detail to memory. 
Your pussy sucks in the tip of the dildo, making you mewl, and slowly, torturously, you shove the length of it into your hole. 
“How do I feel?” 
“So good, want you to move, want you to fuck me hard.” 
You take the initiative to start bouncing the dildo in your pussy, sliding it in and out, building speed. The sound is licentious, wet, all mixed together with the short, airy moans you let out with every push into your body. Slick is starting to build on the silicone, creamy and thick. 
“Do you always get so wet or is it just for me?”
“All for you, Sensei. Cause you feel so good, you fuck me like I’ve always wanted.” 
Shota smears his thumb through the pre-cum freshly leaking from his cock, using it as lubricant as he starts a brutal pace on himself. He can hear the repetitive slap of his wrist hitting his thigh echo into the laptop microphone.
“That right? You’re a dirty girl for wanting to fuck her teacher.” 
“You’re so good to me, you rub my clit just how I like it.” 
He examines how one of your hands reaches under your body, two dainty fingers swirling around your clit before kneading it quickly, like you’re just so desperate to cum for him. 
The strokes he gives his cock are furious, other hand now coming down to cup his balls and roll them in his palm. His stomach flexes at the pleasure, picturing how that perfect cunt of yours would be squeezing him so tightly. 
“You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum all over your Sensei’s cock?”
“Please,” you groan into the sheets, hips now bucking with the pace of the dildo slamming into you, “will you let me cum? You said I’m such a good girl? Ah, ah, one of your favorites?” 
“Always my favorite, sweetheart. Show me how you cum, let me see you make a mess of yourself.”
Your knuckles are tight against the base of the dildo, using all your strength to fuck into yourself. You’re so close to the edge, panting, whining, hole stretched and practically weeping around the purple silicone. 
“You know I’ll fuck you faster, right? Harder. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”
Your tongue falls loose, “Want your hands on my hips, want you to spank me, oh god, pull my hair, kiss me and fuck me and tell me I’m all yours.” 
“You’re gonna cum for me, scream for me, all for me, got it?” 
He can see the way your head shakes on the bed, mascara dripping down the side of your face that he can see. Tears are in your lashes, your lip caught between your teeth, and even still you’re looking back for him, watching him tug and pull his cock with your name in his mouth. 
“God you’re so hot, your cock’s so big—”
A beautiful, strangled noise comes out of you as you finally come apart, your cunt clamping down around the dildo and your motions stilling. You scream into the mattress, all high-pitched and fucked out. Slick squelches from your stuffed hole, dripping down your thighs. 
With the scene before him, it only takes a few more pumps before he’s unloading, cum spurting out over his knuckles and up onto his stomach, rope after rope spilling out for you.
His room goes quiet, his pants and your whiny breaths the only sound he hears over the pounding of his heart. 
Finally, you shift on your bed, and he does his best not to look at the mess he’s made in his hand.
“Um,” you awkwardly clear your throat, looking away from him as you slide the dildo from your cunt. He can’t help but watch the way your pussy lips drag along the length. 
The post-nut clarity hits him like a steam roller. His clean hand grabs his laptop, ready to shut the screen and pretend none of this ever transpired except in the guilty pit of his daydreams—
“Shota,” you mumble, sitting on your knees and holding your body, “this was, uh, well really…hot. I…I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
His ears perk, unsure if he’s ever heard you call him by his first name. 
Before he changes his mind, he drags the laptop on his bed until the camera catches his face. You blink so prettily at the sight of him, dropping one of your hands from your breast like you’re just so comfortable seeing him. 
“Next time will be in person.” 
You give him the most genuine little smile, “Promise?”
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minkoq · 2 days ago
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🍓 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
smut drabbles with husband! tenya iida; fem! reader (aged up)
warnings: nsfw, p in v, oral (m + f receiving), mentions of male masturbation, riding, size kink, squirting, slight dom/sub
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🍓 — him pumping his girthy cock into your sopping cunt after a long mission, he hasn't seen you in a week and just needed you all for himself, he was tired of jerking off in secret while thinking about you :(
🍓 — him staring at your doe eyes as you kneeled in front of him. your tongue making him shiver as he drilled his cock into your tight throat, your chokes and cries just gets him closer to release.
🍓 — just you two watching a movie on the sofa but it quickly turned into your small body pressed against his as he helped you bounce on his cock. the slick noises made his head spin as he continued to slam your cunt onto his fat cock.
🍓 — tenya actually having a filthy mouth when it comes to you, because how else is his slutty wife gonna know when it's time to stop being a brat and get on her knees like a good girl?
🍓 — him going pussy drunk when he's eating your pussy, his tongue all up in there as his glasses lay crooked on his nose. tasting your sweet essence, hearing the filthy noises as you squirted on his face. he didn't even hear your apologies out because for him this was heaven.
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unabletonotlovesatoru · 1 day ago
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ teddy’s notes: so basically i know next to nothing about photoshoots and stuff and this is just something i imagined and tried to convey in words. also im using my lil hc that bakugou has piercing holes in his ears, occasionally wears some small hoops or just dots just so they dont close. enjoy!
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ contains: sexual tension? i guess?? masturbation, bakugou discovering his praise kink through reader. gender neutral reader. i think that’s all. not proofread!! im too tired sorry babes
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just a thought on timeskip! bakugou where he begrudgingly agrees to do one photoshoot for some jewellery brand he doesn’t care about. since beat jeanist kind of forced him to do this and threatened to make him the face of his new clothing line, katsuki thought “fuck it”. and he is very well used to people looking at him in awe, as smug as that sounds, and he expects a huge set with dozens of people running around and whispering between each other, like he’s seen happen when he was visiting kirishima on his shooting.
he’s seen the obnoxiousness of the photographers, the over the top extravagancy of the designers and panicked makeup artists and other workers, and he despises the atmosphere that settles in studios, so of course he doesn’t wanna fucking do a shoot. but best jeanist assures him that the photographer/designer/whatever the fuck is a friend of his and a professional, and this shoot will be very different from any of the things he’s seen.
and it is different indeed.
the studio he goes to is a penthouse on top of a building; and as soon as he steps in he is met with a big ass room and windows that circle the said room, opening up an immaculate view from ceiling to the floor. and he counts only 3 people roaming in and out of the doors that lead to other rooms, which is a fucking surprise. him and his manager exchange a suspicious look before you finally emerge from one of the rooms, so busy setting your camera that only a timid call of your name from his manager is able to bring you back to the world.
a warm smile appears on your face as you extend a hand to his manager, which he shakes a little too excitedly for bakugou’s liking, enamoured smile stretching on his lips as he introduces himself. after slapping the back of his head, katsuki also shakes your hand and grumbles about getting this over with as he strides forward to the makeup artist.
he observes everything while his face is being touched with different brushes and powdered to the point of him sneezing it all off; one guy works on the lighting around the centre of the room where the shoot is going to be filmed, one girl runs around with a rack of clothes, gathering the stuff he will be wearing— mainly the jewellery he will be wearing since this shoot is supposed to be focused on that. and you occasionally chat with his very obviously crushing manager and continue to lead your small team, managing to build something out of nothing, and bakugou finds the atmosphere uncomfortably intimate.
there is no constant muttering around, a background noise he’s used to hearing even outside of the studios and all that; there is no arguing and no stress and no drama, which katsuki finds to be very weird, but somehow pleasant. a soft tune plays in the background after he gruffly declined an offer to put his own music if he wanted because no, music is indeed personal, and while you hum under your breath, oblivious to his staring, bakugou finds himself allured.
soon he is seated on the lonely looking stool: for the first round he’s got a couple of earrings in his ears, all rich looking gold and not as simple as he thought they would be, all carefully chosen by you. you stand extremely close to him, your hands coming up and down as you imagine how every piece would look on him and choose the best ones, the ones that fit only him, and at some point katsuki notices that he waits for your approving, pleased expression to appear with baited breath.
you don’t press him about posing a certain way, more focused on directing the lighting’s guy, most of your face hidden behind your camera as you angle it to capture the radiance of the stones and the way they compliment his skin tone. you gently order for some of the curtains to be opened and closed while you change sides and katsuki’s sure that he is doing literally nothing, just looking the way he thinks he looks good and relaxing when you smile down at the pictures on the small screen of your camera.
he is very much infatuated at this point, though. with how your soft voice guides everyone, guides him to sit a certain way, place his hands a certain way, asks him if you can touch him before you hang your camera on your neck and your soft fingers hover over his skin, scared to touch as if he’s made of porcelain yet gentle in the way they tilt his head to the side, effectively showing off his neck and the gold necklace that rests over his exposed collarbones.
“you’re a natural,” you mumble under your breath appreciatively, nimble fingers styling his hair, as you nearly stand between his spread legs. “nearly every shot is perfect.”
katsuki fucking prays that his chest isn’t turning red because the red will then crawl higher and reach his face too, and looking like a blushing schoolgirl in front of you wasn’t an option, not at all. he is used to being praised, unresponsive to it because frankly he couldn’t give a flying fuck about what people thought of him, however you’re so close and so soft and so sweet with that silky voice of yours and your charming smile.
you touch his cheek, wiping something off with an attentive gaze and pursed lips, and inquire if he wants to take a break or anything, but katsuki refuses. he honestly doesn’t even know if he wants this to be over, yet he knows that he will have to find your number one way or another, no explanation needed. everyone leaves to eat or whatever and he is finally left alone with you, waiting for you to come back from the makeup stand.
“bakugou-san?” you ask him and he snaps his head up, noticing a black pencil in your hand. eyeliner, he recognizes. “mind if i put some on?”
he nods and your free hand cups the side of his face, tilting it to your pleasing, moving him around any way you want because he lets you. while you apply and smear the liner over his lash line and lids, thumbs moving softly over the skin, katsuki is wondering: is he that touchstarved that fleeting touches, professionally required even, from a stranger he met a couple of hours ago make him want something he doesn’t even know he needed before? it’s fucking pathetic, awfully stupid of him, but when your thumb slides down to rub the corner of his bottom lip bakugou is pretty sure you aren’t just giving him some extra attention.
he isn’t a baby who needs someone to do things for him, you could’ve asked him or the makeup artist to do this stuff, yet you figured out that he isn’t opposed to your close proximity and stepped in, thighs brushing against each other and minty breaths mingling with his.
katsuki’s losing his mind by the end of the shooting, hoping that the loose pants that he is adorning are able to conceal the half hard dick he’s been trying to get down for the last half an hour.
and when he is finally home, alone, he shoves his hand deep in his pants, fist getting a hold of his fully hard, raging boner, a relieved groan escaping his throat as he strokes it up and down, thinking about the way you smelled so pleasantly and smiled at him like he was a gem, a pregnant stone you found, just like the real ones in the expensive accessories he’s worn today. dozens of cameras flashing in his face from different angles couldn’t compare to the attentiveness of your gaze that never left him during the shooting.
and while he is getting closer and closer to release katsuki thinks of the praises you muttered under your breath, how you appreciated him, told him how good he did for you and how pretty he was.
“doing so good f’me,” you whispered, looking at him through the camera while he slowly threw his head back to show off a necklace, careful to not stumble off the small stool, and he acted like the mesmerised tone of your voice didn’t make his dick harder. “wonderful, angel.”
fuck, when was the last time someone’s words had such impact on him? feels like a thousand fucking years, but katsuki’s too fucked out to think about that, gasping as he convulsed through his orgasm, his hand unable to slow down as spurts of milky liquid covered it.
“good boy.” rings in his head and his phone vibrates along with it.
a message from his manager containing your number.
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