I think Deku has a bit of a mean streak, actually. he’s no Bakugou—that’s for sure—but he’s not this innocent, sweet angel baby that the media has painted him out to be. but you only catch it when you least expect it, when you’re pushing his nerves, when the stakes to everything around him are high, when he’s tired of endless sleepless nights and just—snaps.
“Oh?” you go, grin unfurling like some grinch, chin resting on your hands as you leer at him from across his expansive desk. “You’re mean.” your words are teasing, a snarl that curls your mouth up. Deku stutters, eyes going wide, jaw snapping shut in surprise as he tries to think back on how rude he just sounded.
“No, I’m not—I mean, you wouldn’t stop and I just—there’s a lot on my plate right now—and you just—you keep on—I’m not—I’m not mean.” He’s sputtering, hands all over the place, the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose falling even lower with how he jabbers on and on. it’s endearing really, to see how he tries to upkeep his image of being so kind and understanding, even though his nostrils just flared at you. and his eyebrows turned down and he gritted at you, his hands were balled into fists, his words were so nasty, so ugly, so unbecoming for Deku.
you liked it. loved it even—vowed to get him like this every single fucking second that you could.
you pick and poke at him whenever you see him, teasing him and pulling at him. pushing him around even though the hero is so much stronger than you, so much bigger. and he lets you, tries to defend himself but—that’s not what you want. you want the ugliness, the snark, the mean.
he snaps, eventually, when you least expect it. grabs you up in black whip when you go to push him against the wall for the third time in only a minute, his eyes suddenly dark, the aura of the room suddenly charged.
“That’s what I was looking for.” you whisper to him, the grin spreading your face quickly dissipating in only seconds when you become the prey. when you become the one pushed up against the wall with teeth at your neck, a hand in your underwear, bullying your hole with too thick fingers.
“Why do you want me to act like this? Be so mean to you, huh?” he sounds so frustrated with himself, with you, growling and nipping and licking when you don’t answer quick enough. but your breath is caught in your lungs because finally—finally, did you get what you wanted. it just took a little bit of pushing, you suppose.
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mating press with toji but he can't keep still, he'ss fucking u so hard that your still managing to get pushed up higher on the bed and he just chases you up the mattress until ur cornered on the headboard and he's just growling, telling u to stop running away from him even tho you arent !!!
PLEAAAAAAASEEEEEE🥴🥴🥴🥴 HE'S SOOO DEEP INSIDE YOU AND HE'S SOOSO HEAVY ON TOP OF YOU IT'S SO FUCKING OVERWHELMING AND IT JUST FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD THAT IT HAS YOU SOBBINGG
you're both covered in sweat and it's all soooosoo messy like the slick sounds that come every time he slams his hips into yours are just fucking filthy. and you are trying to back off a little, just a little because you can't even breathe properly but then he's there. still right on top of you, his big thighs pressing down against yours while his one hand supports his upper body and his other goes to cradle your neck. and then he presses his forehead to yours, his dark eyes glued to your teary ones. you're not going anywhere now. he's got you locked in this delicious position and it's enough to push you over the edge again. so you're crying out under him, your body twitching so hard bc it's just too fucking much that you feel like you're almost gonna pass out.
but he fucks you through it, his raspy voice praising you – telling you how good you are for him and how good you feel. telling you that he loves you. as he cums, he pushes his hips into yours one last time and then he stays there, pressing sloppy kisses all over your face bc he just needs to make sure that you feel his love<333333333
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There's treasure inside that box, a handful of which could provide a lifetime of prosperity. Facing that kind of temptation, there are few men I would trust to self-deny. But it is not the treasure that concerns me most. Charles Vane's sacrifice is in that box. If your man is unsuccessful in seeing to his rescue, Charles Vane's death is inside that box. Along with my good name. Along with her lost love. Along with your late quartermaster's life. All the awful sacrifices made to assemble that box are now part of its contents, and those things are sacred things that I trust in no man's hands.
Black Sails, chapter XXVII.
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