Hear Me Out.... Imagine If The [redacted] Is Edgeshot, The Man Who Gave Bakugou His Heart

accidentally confessing to them ✧.*

characters. katsuki bakugou, izuku midoriya, & shoto todoroki

content warnings. gender neutral reader, swearing, fluff

author notes. this is just part one!

summary: A city-wide blackout leads to some questionable decisions on Eraserhead's part: for four nights in a row now, Aizawa Shouta has been watching you get yourself off. Is tonight the night he joins in? pairing: aizawa shouta x reader wc: 1.7k content warnings: SMUT mdni, dark content, stalker!aizawa, stalking, voyeurism, dubcon, power imbalance (pro hero/civilian, ya know) voice kink, dirty talk, aizawa's big dick

The watching starts before Aizawa knows how to stop it.

One minute, he’s on patrol during the worst blackout the city’s ever seen; the next, he’s looking into your room and watching you get undressed.

You stopped him dead in his tracks, all plush curves and soft skin, almost otherworldly in the cool blue dark. Maybe that’s why he stayed that first time, frozen on the ledge of a neighboring building, watching you writhe and whimper on a purple dildo.

He has no excuse for why he returns the second and the third night, only that he's hungry for more, that the cover of dark in a still imperiled city is making it easier for him to accept the dark desire churning in his veins that he needs to know exactly what you sound like when you stuff yourself full.

He takes a shaky breath, cold air stinging his cheeks. Darkness blankets the city as thoroughly as gauze, a hazy film that puts anyone with eyes that aren’t his at a disadvantage.

He can see you perfectly, surrounded in your bedroom by candles and wearing those sleep shorts that hug the meat of your ass so well he has to palm his dick roughly through his pants, grunting into his fist.

You can’t see him.

Aizawa pulls out a burner phone before he can stop himself and punches in your number. Your face scrunches adorably at the unfamiliar caller, but you answer all the same.

“Hello?”

Fuck. You’ve got a voice like heaven, soft and low and sweet.

“Hi,” is all he can think to say, and he sucks in a breath when your nipples pebble under your thin cami.

You like his voice already. That’s good. He can work with that.

“Who is this?”

You’d be lying if you didn’t already have a suspicion. Just because you don’t have a quirk doesn’t mean you don’t have senses; you clocked him the first night he watched you out in that expansive dark, the gleam of something like goggles shining in the dark.

You don’t know why you kept touching yourself, why his gaze on you made your heart race instead of reach for the phone to call the cops.

Not much good they’d do anyway. They’d just send Mr. Pro Hero outside, or someone like him.

“Does it matter who I am?”

His voice is everything you like. Deep and rumbling, a little rasp raking over the syllables and zipping up your spine.

“Guess not.” You shrug one shoulder; the strap of your cami slides down. On cue, you hear the faintest inhale of air. Dude must have fucking super vision. “Why did you keep coming back?”

You almost roll your eyes at how off-route your priorities are. There’s been a man watching you fuck yourself, and you’re hung up on specifics?

“You’re beautiful,” he says, simply, like he’s rattling off stock prices, but it makes your heart stop all the same. “Why is it you’re alone?”

You can't help but laugh. “You’re not pulling the ‘you’re too pretty to be alone’ card, are you?”

He laughs, too, a soft rumble that crackles the phone with static. “So what if I am? The only action I’ve seen you get the past few days is when that toy of yours disappears between your legs.”

Arousal knocks the wind out of you. Heat flushes up your hairline.

Another low chuckle on his end. “Embarrassed, pretty girl?”

You walk up to the window, peer out into the dark night. You can’t make anything out other than shadows.

“How many times have you watched me now?”

“You don’t know? Seemed like you were putting on a show.”

His teasing tone makes your cunt clench.

“Four days now, sweetheart,” like he’s counting down your anniversary, not how often he’s spied on you masturbating. “What were you thinking about last night that had you shuddering and gasping like that? Knew I had to get your number just so I could hear you fall apart.”

This is wrong this is wrong this is wrong is blaring on repeat in your head, but that’s increasingly falling to the wayside with every word that falls out of this stranger’s mouth. Your sleep shorts slide between your folds. Blood rushes in your ears as your heart beats in your throat. You feel so turned on it’s like every cell is alight, responding to the chemical bomb (wc) that is the man on the other side of the window.

It’s cold tonight. The window sticks just like it always does when you open it up, the cool night air a balm for your arousal-drenched skin.

You don’t address him; you’re not really sure why, but you like not knowing where he is, a figure in the dark hell bent on nothing more than watching you cum.

You settle back down on your bed, crossing your legs and groaning a little. You’re damp and sticky and so turned on it’s already starting to hurt.

“I was thinking about you,” you answer honestly. "I like your voice.” Your own shakes, with a mixture of lust and fear and excitement. “Can you talk to me?”

“Of course I can talk to you.” His voice drops another octave, takes on an even more gravelly tone. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. “What’s my pretty girl wanna hear?”

“Anything,” you say, and you mean it. This man could probably read you the directions to a microwave meal and get you off. “You can see me, right?”

“Mmhmm,” he intones.

“Then tell me how to touch myself. Like if you were here.”

Aizawa crushes the phone in his grip so tightly he hears it crack.

You’re already squirming on your bed, sitting on your fucking hands like you’re waiting for permission. His heart kicks up against his ribs, his cock jumping violently against his uniform.

“I can do that, sweetheart.”

You smile, tuck your chin into your chest like his attention is all of a sudden making you shy. He wonders if you’re doing it to tease him, or if he’s bringing it out of you. It doesn't matter either way; he's harder than he's been in his entire life.

“Lay back down on the bed for me, yeah?” You comply instantly. “Make sure I can see that gorgeous cunt, baby, don’t be hiding from me.”

Your breath hitches. You scoot forward just enough, and the flickering candlelight plays over your skin like water. His mouth dries up at the sight.

“Spread yourself open, baby, use those pretty hands of yours.”

You part your folds, the pad of your middle finger gathering up the arousal pooling between your legs. “Jesus—fuck—look at you, gorgeous. All that just for me?”

He sees you nod.

“You gotta talk to me too, sweetheart. Use that cute mouth of yours.”

You choke out a little whine that blacks out his vision.

“S-sorry. I don’t understand how it feels so fucking good already.”

Your hips move in little circles, chasing your release.

“How many toys do you have there with you?”

“A few. Why?”

“Which is the biggest?”

You huff out a disbelieving giggle. “You’re not doing that thing where you lie about your endowments, are you?”

The grin that crosses his mouth is wild, hungry. He wasn’t planning on touching himself tonight; only wanted to tease you in the dark until he splattered the front of his pants like a teenager. But your teasing tone is making him ignore his earlier impulses as he tugs out his cock and snaps a photo of it, hard and heavy and leaking in his palm.

He sends it.

You’re silent for a moment. He sees your legs press together before he hears—

“Fuck,” you whimper, so desperately it’s like he can see your mouth water. “I don’t—I don’t have anything as big as you.”

His cock literally jumps in his hand. Pre-cum oozes from the tip; he stuffs it back into his briefs before he can change his mind.

“You can’t tell me things like that. Makes me want to climb through your window and stuff you full with what you really need.” The muscles in his stomach bunch as he fights for composure. “Take out that purple toy of yours, it’ll be enough for now, ‘kay princesss? Don’t whine for things you can’t have.”

It’s an admonishment to himself, too.

“Don’t turn it on just yet. Get it all nice and wet, pretty girl, I know you’re fucking dripping.”

You follow instructions in a way that soothes the miasma of thoughts in his head. Here the world makes sense again. Here he can do good.

“Can I know your name?” You pant. He watches you trace small caresses across your belly, the soft undersides of your tits.

God, he wants his teeth on you, devouring you whole.

Against his better judgement, he tells you. “Sho is fine.”

“Okay. Sho,” you breathe it out in an overdrawn sexy drawl, but fuck, even his shortened name is enough to make that low-belly punch of arousal spike.

“Inch that toy in nice and slow, honey, go on now, stop being a tease.” He watches the tip start to part you open, your ragged gasp harsh in his ear. “If I was there, we’d be stretching out your little cunt for hours, make sure you’re ready for me. I could probably sit you on just the tip of my dick and make you cum, isn't that right, pretty girl? You're fucking shaking and I haven't even touched you—”

“Sho,” you’re pleading, and it’s making his head fucking spin. “Can I turn it on, please? Let me turn it on—”

“Of course you can, baby, that’s it, look at you.” Your legs are spread obscenely, arousal dripping from your hole, glistening on your thighs and core. “Show me you how you like it, sweet girl, show me how you want me to fuck you next time, yeah?”

Aizawa feels each shuddering gasp and keening moan like you’re there beside him. Your orgasm overtakes you, back bowing off the bed, his name like a prayer on your lips. His hips jerk as he watches you, one hand tight on the phone, the other pressing against the pulsing-hot ache of his cock as he ruts into his palm.

His phone pings a moment later as he's catching his breath, a too-dark picture of the mess between your thighs and a text:

[y/n]: Come back tomorrow <3

a/n: actively launching myself into outer space!!!

Shouto really can't get the thought of you getting fucked by his older brother out of his head. He makes love to you with all the gentleness he has, but Touya? Touya would fuck you like a whore. And Shouto... really thinks you'd love it.

DOOMED YURI FOR THE WIN 🩸🌸

hiiii rue i love ur writing i will read anything u write! That being said, any form of Denki smau with exceptionally forward reader who makes him nervous… would be… very swag.

hes so paatheettiiccc but i also think he'd love getting his licks back like he's teeheeing and blushing and rubbing his hands together like a fly behind the screen thinking of a witty reply HEHE thank yew denki nation🫡🫡

show me how // denki kaminari

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers @babylambdietcoke @0skullyard0 @kaldurahms-lover @commonmisery @moonstonejpg @twoplayergaymers @simp-plague @xvilluis

013. CARNATIONS

You're late.

You're very late.

You didn't wake up Touya at nine am like you usually do. You didn't bring Touya breakfast—there was a tray placed on his bedside table by someone else when he'd awaken, the lid fogged up from the steaming food being neglected inside. You didn't leave a note or pop into his room to let him know you had a meeting or something of the sorts

But the storm raging on outside Touya's window seemed to be the answer. The thunderous rain outside seemed never ending. The sky was dark and the world outside was clouded with a thick, misty haze

Touya had done a hundred push-ups, taken a shower, finished his letter to Shoto, ate his breakfast, and even made his bed in the time he spent waiting for you.

He was cursing under his breath every five seconds—because the damned sheets absolutely refused to cooperate with him. Every time he tucked them into one corner of the mattress, they came flying off the other one. He banged his head against the headboard at one point too, before flopping down face first onto his unmade bed with a groan

Why it was so hard to make a bed was beyond him. He supposes it's because he didn't have any practice making his bed, you always made it for him when he was showering. And for most of his life, he was lucky to even sleep on a mattress. He wasn't used to so many throw pillows, cushions, blankets—the simple luxury of being comfortable just wasn't something he was familiar with.

But as the dull pain in the back of his head subsided, Touya sits up in his bed with more determination than before. He had a bed to make. He had somewhere to safely sleep at night, and that was a fact no one could change. He musters up the meanest glare he can offer the bed, before yanking off the sheets in a single, fluid motion.

And then, Touya got to work.

It took him nearly an hour to make the bed perfectly. He experimented with different folding techniques and positioned the pillows about a hundred different ways until it he was satisfied with the outcome.

His shoulders were sore from all the strain once he'd finished. But he was proud of himself. The feeling fluttered around his chest—light and dizzying as he sat down on your chair instead of the bed, rolling it backwards so he could appreciate his work from afar.

But even after all of this, you're still not here.

The downpour outside represents his mood soon enough, and he sits in the room sulking after another hour passes. Maybe you're still at home—stuck and unable to leave because of the weather. Yesterday, you were telling him about the storm that would come today, but the weather outside is just brutal. He hasn't seen it rain this badly in Japan in a long time.

Maybe you were driving extra slow—the rain must be a difficult obstacle to drive through. He imagines the slick roads would make it hard for anyone to drive in, and he quickly pushes down the prospect of something bad happening to you as he takes a steadying breath

He's on edge—every little sound he hears has his heart rate spiking thinking it may be you. Finally, at three pm, there's a knock on his door.

Touya knows it's not you. Your knock is soft before you click open his door, your knock is three raps against the wooden door and your knock is a question. This knock—this knock was a single, harsh and near bang on his door. This knock wasn't a question, this knock was a demand to be let inside.

It's the last thing he hears before the door clicks open, and Touya stiffens, unsure of what to expect out of whoever it is on the other side

"Todoroki, your presence is required downstairs. This will only take a moment of your time, please." The woman speaks firmly, not giving Touya even a second to respond before she turns on her heel and walks out of the room

She didn't look Touya in the eye as she spoke, like she was afraid he'd catch something in her gaze she didn't want him to see. And her words came out quickly, her steps even faster as she walked out of the room and waited outside for Touya with a small group of doctors

Touya knows something is off, but for some reason—he foolishly doesn't think this meeting would be about you. Because there's no way these doctors would be ignorant enough to take you away from him—they could be mean, sure—but they weren't stupid. And he can quickly assume your overall well-being is fine, because your colleagues' demeanors don't appear saddened by anything. There's something else swimming in their gaze, and even though he's fishing for anything that may tell him what—he's coming up empty handed.

Touya complies quietly, allowing them to lead him down several floors before he's being pushed into a meeting room. He sweeps his gaze over the doctors and the people in suits who await him inside, entirely unimpressed. This must be some sort of a check up on him, or new details on his rehabilitation plan they wanted him to be formally made aware of. He walks over to the seat they gesture him towards, sitting down and letting out a sigh as he leans back in it

Unfortunately, you're not in this room. There's not a single sign of your bubbly smile at all as he enters—he can't even spot the color of your usual outfits, the room consisted of all its occupants being dressed in muted and dark colors.

Everyone in the room seems restless, and Touya can only shift in his seat as the murmurs around him quiet. There's something poisoning the air, but he still cannot figure out what has everyone so on edge and tense.

A man clears his throat, and Touya figures he must be important with the way everyone quickly turns to look at him as he rises out of his chair. He makes a quick motion with his hands, and there's a pair of quirk cancelling cuffs snapped over Touya's wrist faster than he could blink.

He stills, slowly turning to look at who had cuffed him to the table because they tricked him—the woman in question deactivates her invisibility quirk, offering Touya nothing more than an apologetic nod before averting her gaze

"The cuffs are on for our own safety, Touya. We brought you here because we want to apologize for our hospital's incompetence. We failed to acknowledge your privacy had been invaded, and we can do nothing but ask for forgiveness and work to be better. We don't tolerate anyone who breaks the rules and policies we have set, and Y/n is no exception."

Touya swallows the lump forming in his throat before letting out a laugh. It's a short, angry breath of air that he exhales almost like a scoff. Did this guy have even the faintest clue what he was talking about? Touya's fingers clench underneath the tight grip of the cuffs around him as his eyes remain unblinking. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for his response

"I don't know what you're trying to say."

The pale skin around his wrists has angry blotches of red and bruises beginning to bloom because of how hard he was straining his wrists against the cuffs. The man winces at Touya's expression before growing quiet, making a feeble attempt to search for how to come across as clearly as he can

Touya's eyes suddenly narrow into slits as he leans back in his chair, trying to look at the whole picture this man was doing a terrible job at painting. It sounded like they were saying you wouldn't be his doctor anymore. But that's just silly. You were a good doctor—no, you were the best doctor. No one in this hospital could ever hold a candle to you.

"Touya, I'm trying to tell you Y/n won't be your doctor anymore."

There's this incessant ringing in Touya's head as he grinds his molars together, trying to control his temper. His eyes are ablaze as he glares at the man in disbelief—features hardening into something terrifying within an instant at his words

"You can shut your mouth, because you have no fucking idea what you're even talking about. Y/n didn't—what was it you said, invade my privacy? You're a real piece of work, you know? Shove it up your ass, you stupid, old, bast—"

"Touya,"

Touya freezes. His head whips around in an instant at the sound of your voice, and the chair he's sitting on swivels with the movement as his eyes find yours. You're not in your usual clothes—in place of your usual doctor attire is a soft blue sweater, deep brown pants, and a simple pair of dark lolita shoes. You're wearing jewelry too, he notices. And your hair is down—you look out of place. Like a toy put in the wrong box.

"I am sorry for what I've done, Mr. Todoroki. My relationship with you goes against our hospital's most crucial morals. I–I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Forgive me. The words echo, and the room is suddenly eerily quiet

The dogeza is considered the most formal form of apology in Japanese culture. Getting on your knees in front of someone isn't taken lightly, but your legs practically buckle beneath you as you bow your head in shame

Touya wants to reach out to you, but they've made the cuffs on him stronger and tighter than last time—and he can only thrash against the restraints helplessly as he watched your forehead kiss the ground near his feet

Touya wants to tell you to get up, he wants to tear apart the person who thought it would be a good idea to publicly humiliate you like this—to reduce you to something beneath him, of all people.

"Y/n," He croaks, the reality of losing you seemed like the beginning of his inevitable end

"Y/n," He tries again

Something cracks in his chest when you raise your head and avoid his gaze, staying completely silent.

And for once, Touya doesn't have the pleasure to feel your hands hold him when he so desperately needed your touch. Physical affection from you was so important to Touya. He needed the reassurance of your touch, the confirmation that you were there—or he'd overthink himself into a frenzy.

He watches you be tugged out of the room by your supervisor, who spoke quietly into your ear. Too quietly for him to hear. Your shoulders are slumped as you walk out of the room, and Touya cranes his neck to try and get one last look at you before the door closes—but he misses his chance when your supervisor steps in the way of his view, closing the door after leading you outside.

Learning you couldn't take care of Touya was a knife to the gut—but that knife twists and deepens a hundred times over, piercing right through all he was when you walk right by without sparing him a single glance.

You didn't look at Touya at all. Not even once.

It took nearly two hours until Touya was secured back into his room. He wrestled and resisted every officer that got in his way. He was so mad—he didn't care who he hurt. Crimson seeped into his gaze, and all he saw was blinding red—kicking and punching at anyone who even tried to put their hands on him. He'd need cameras put back into his room after today, there was no doubt of it. Your supervisor tells you they'll probably install them tomorrow to keep a closer eye on him

You walk silently, a quiet whisper falling from your lips as you adjust the face covering you wore.

"Thank you,"

Your supervisor nods curly, giving you no further response as she kept a firm hand wrapped around your bicep. That guards positioned in Touya's hall let her pass easily, and she maneuvered through the familiar twists and turns of the hospital as the two of you got closer and closer to your destination

"I can get you ten minutes maximum, Y/n. I'll stand outside when you need to come out—and when I knock, you come immediately. Understand?" She questions quietly as you nod quickly, watching her fish out Touya's keys.

"Go in quick and lock the door—do not let him out."

She shoves the key into the doorknob, before placing a hand on your back and nudging you inside within a second as you tug off your face mask

The door closes and your hand quickly reaches out to lock it behind you. But you can't even take a step forward before you're being shoved backwards with such menacing force that it knocks the wind out of you. Touya hears your breath hitch at the last second, and he moves at the speed of light as he puts his hand between your head and the door to soften the blow

He presses a chaste kiss onto your lips in an instant, murmuring your names desperately in question as he tugs you into the room. It's dark, and you stumble as he leads you to his bed. He pulls you onto it quickly as his arms wrap around you, muttering apologies into your hair and choking on his own sobs as he fists your sweater in between his fingers

You whisper his name, and everything hurts. His mind, his body, his soul—it's all set alight the moment you confirm you're real. You're here and somehow holding him.

"What happened?" He whispers, pulling back as his thumb runs over your cheekbone—catching the falling tears and smearing them into your skin

"He took photos of us together while we were at your house. Yesterday, he showed them to everyone—and—and I got fired. 'm sorry, it's my fault too." You whisper quickly as a growl gets caught in Touya's throat

"It's not your fault. It's his—I fucking hate him. So damn much." Touya whispers. His jaw trembles as he clenches it, pupils lined with a thin ring of cobalt as he watches you press a dozen kisses onto his face—holding him like he was some precious treasure you'd stumbled upon.

"But—that's not what I'm here to talk about, Touya." You say, the words tumbling from your lips in a haste as Touya presses you closer into his body, a fruitless attempt to try and fuse the two of you together. He'd melt his own body if he could, melt it and meld it against yours so he could be stuck to you forever—they wouldn't be able to take you then, would they?

"You need to promise me you'll behave. Promise me you'll listen to your doctors and show them how strong you are. Show them you're a good man—Touya, promise me you'll show them." You plead, and Touya nearly whimpers against your skin as his forehead digs into the crown of your head. He struggles to form a single word, muttering and mumbling incoherently as he holds you

"Touya—Touya, are you listening to me?" You question, growing desperate to the point where you need to try and pry his hands off of you—anything to get him to just look at you and confirm he was listening. But his grip tightens, so much so where it's beginning to grow painful. His muttering becomes clearer, and you can finally hear the words he was repeating over and over again as he rocked gently against you

Please don't leave me.

He flingers flex reflexively over yours, his eyes glittering like sapphires in the light from the sunset outside—it had finally stopped raining, and the sun somehow managed to shine through the thick clouds.

He looks up, expression open and vulnerable in a way you've never seen before. His eyes are unblinking as he stares at your face—trying to commit every detail of it to memory. Because Touya is scared—he's so fucking scared he'll never see it again.

"If you do this one last thing for me, I promise I'll be waiting outside for you. Please, Touya. I'm sorry."

He presses his eyes close, brows furrowing like he was in physical pain. You press your lips gently to his forehead, and he shudders beneath you when you kiss him so softly

"I—I don't know," He confesses, confusion and hurt imbued into every one of his features as he tries to figure out just how he can go through the upcoming months without you by his side

Touya's hesitant. He looks afraid—his eyes wide as they keep darting over your features, a subtle tremble in his voice as he speaks. You've never seen him so panicked and scattered—and it hurts knowing you had to leave him like this in a few minutes

When he was even half as upset as he was now, you'd spend hours talking to Touya. Chipping bit by bit at the shell he kept over himself, allowing your soothing words in bit by bit. Your love and presence was salve on his burning wounds

But you were leaving soon, and he doesn't have the heart to unlatch his limbs from yours. You cradle Touya to your chest, speaking softly into his hair where he can only hear fragments and fractions of what you're saying

".....Think of your family.....Only six months.....I'm so proud of you.....It'll all be ok, I promise.....I love you, Touya....."

And he nods through it all, allowing your voice to guide him through the misty maze of his mind. It felt like you knew Touya better than he knew himself, sometimes.

"Okay,"

And Touya is so sincere when he looks at you, irises shaking as he wraps his arms around you in a bone crushing embrace

"I'll be on my best fucking behavior. Don't care if they kick me around or poke me in the eye with their needles. I'll do my best. But you, Y/n if you're not there in the end—fucking promise me this isn't goodbye." He whispers, a sharp knock resounding through the air as you nod frantically

"I promise it won't be, Touya. I love you so much—please be good for me."

It's the last thing he hears before the door clicks open, before you're spinning on your heel and moving out of the room in a blur. He can't hear a thing, and the blood rushes to his head so fast it feels like he's about to pass out. Touya slumps against the headboard, heart beating out of his chest before a faint flicker of regret flashes across his face. His back straightens as a broken curse leaves his lips once he realizes his mistake

He forgot to kiss you goodbye.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; touya, my baby, is so brave. he's putting on his big boy pants rn. and he'll be getting a new doctor wahh bye bye y/n ☹️ he's probably gonna hate his new doc...or will he?? 👀 do what you will with that piece of information heheh. also, here's a playlist no one asked for! :D i made it a while ago and thought i may as well share it with you lovely souls...! the next few days are going to be very busy for me, i can only ask you guys to be patient for the next chapter 🫶 and ofc, thank you all for making carnations so special to me <3

tags!

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @dabislittlemouse @rueclfer @kelin-is-writing

@shugs1801 @imaginationmess

@lasa27 @sophiathefrog @etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo

@hvnares @ephmeraloblivion @lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006

@stoned-anime-babe @qatiee @shadowsingers-redhood @alycat171

@21-princess

@xileonaaaa @rylerboi @blurryperrtymoonlight @mrcleans4headwrinkle @accidentpronedork

@exquisitenesss @miniatureempathknightpony @afterlife11

I love the idea of a Support Course Izuku who was always aspiring toward that goal. Little kid Izuku meets Bakugou and is like hmm. But then he finds out his parents are fashion designers, which is sort of similar to making hero costumes, and suddenly he wants to hang out all the time. All Might rescues him from the slime villain, and All Might is like, "I am here!" and Izuku is all, "You are here! David Shield's partner! Wow!"

Just read your horny bakugou post about eating. Hear me out- imagine how hard he gets when he sees you literally licking the plate clean off his food.

post for reference

you're so right, this would have him straight-up BARKING

man is already just about as obsessed with you as it gets, but seeing you lap up food that he prepared for you himself? hauls you up on the kitchen table by your thighs without so much as a warning, knocking down dishes and spilling over glasses—

"baby, the mess," you get out before he's cutting you off with his mouth

"fuck the mess this time," he snarls, biting at your lips, your throat, your collarbone. if he could fucking inhale you he would, anything to get you closer. "sittin' over there groanin' like a fuckin' whore over my food. did you really think this was gonna end without your perfect lil cunt wrapped around me?"

presses you down on the table, hands under your shoulder blades, hips pounding into you, "i know ya like being taken care of pretty thing. show me how much by creamin' all over my cock, yeah? fuckkkk, there's my girl"

painted over this piece from may 🌈 prints coming soon :)

grinding on his cock while you’re still in your panties to see how wet they can get before he rips them off of you in frustration