Mha X Reader Smut - Blog Posts

laseracronym

2 months ago

hi there this is my first ever request and i'm kinda nervous lol

but i was wondering if the nsfw alphabet could be requested? if so could i request it with iida/chubby fem reader? & if not that's totally okay!

or if not maybe a smutty lil drabble where he's completely feral for chubby reader (i know he's very prim & proper, but just something about him going crazy/being a whiny mess for reader's pussy does something for my little goblin brain)

thank you & i hope you have a good day! 🍄

(Laser: omg I'm so honored to be your first request! I decided to do the drabble for now, but I'll definitely do the NSFW alphabet as well one of these days. Though, it's no longer a drabble, I really got into it. Iida really needs more love!

I hope you enjoy!)

Iida/Chubby!Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Dating a high-profile hero like Tenya meant that at least once a month, you were dressing up in something fancy and spending the evening at his side as you attended some important dinner or event involving other important figures in the industry. You didn't mind it, not at all. You were a sociable type, and you also worked with heroes because of your career in the hero support field. Half of the time, these events felt less like business and more like catching up with friends and interesting acquaintances.

Besides, you really liked dressing up. It wasn't often you got to feel glamorous, holed up in your workshop sweating over prototypes and making repairs. Sometimes it was nice to set the work gloves aside, wash off the grease, and get all dolled up.

Tonight was a charity gala hosted by Commission President Takami, and you were at Tenya's side like always. You were particularly happy with tonight's outfit. You bought a new dress that was a deep dark blue, almost black, form fitting, and when you moved, the light would catch on some subtle gold detailing in the fabric. You matched it with some killer heels and jewelry Tenya had gifted you over the years. Your hair and makeup was perfect, and you'd even gotten your nails done (a rare treat because of your work) which you had to stop from admiring every time they caught your eye.

You felt so pretty, and Tenya thought so, too.

You had to arrive separately that evening, Tenya getting held up with an incident that needed his last-minute assistance. When he saw you waiting for him out in front of the venue, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He had that tell-tale blush up his neck and to his ears and you watched his Adam's apple bob as his eyes flitted up and down your figure in your tight dress.

He cleared his throat, tugging at the tie around his neck as he took a moment to compose himself. "(Name)! You look...splendid," he said as he approached you, his eyes full of admiration. It was obvious he was struggling to put all his thoughts into one simple word. You'd clearly wowed him tonight.

You smiled wide, pleased that you’d blown him away. "Thank you! You look good, too," as he came to a stop before you, you could appreciate just how amazing he looked in a suit. It was a sight you would never tire of, how his broad shouldered, muscular body seemed to be made for formal wear. He'd coordinated his suit to match your outfit, and it made you even more excited to be dressed up tonight.

"Thanks, honey," he pressed a kiss to your temple, the contact brief and chaste. He often kept PDA to a minimum, it was just the way he was. You didn't mind, you understood there was a time and place for everything, and he was plenty affectionate in private.

When he pulled back, he took another moment to look at you, and his glasses did little to hide the desire in his red eyes. It made your heart skip a beat. He gave a little sigh, lifting his hand to brush the back of his knuckles along your cheek, "honestly, I don't know how I'm going to be able to focus tonight with you next to me, looking like this," he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.

You felt your face heat up, suddenly bashful at the admission. But before you could reply, Tenya had his hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades and he was guiding you inside.

The rest of the night went as expected. Lots of listening to speeches and mingling, some catching up with the people you knew. All the while, Tenya was his polite, proper self. He kept you close, but his hands never strayed anywhere inappropriate, he lavished you with compliments and fond smiles but nothing too heated.

To anyone else, Tenya might not have seemed very affected, but you knew him, and you knew he was enamored by your appearance tonight.

There was a tension to him in the set of his shoulders, and a restlessness belied by the tapping of his finger against his champagne glass. His eyes lingered on you just a tad too long before he seemed to catch himself and look away. By the end of the night, you could tell he was eager to leave.

You two said your goodbyes and exited the venue, entering an elevator to get back to the ground floor.

As the doors of the elevator closed, leaving the two of you alone for the first time that evening, you felt Tenya's strong arms wrap around you from behind, the hard line of his body pressing against your back. His hands pressed to your stomach, giving a light squeeze.

You blinked, feeling his face press into the top of your head, his shuddering breath soaking into your body, "...Tenya?"

"Sorry, (Name), I'm just..." he took in another deep breath, pulling you even closer to him, his hands kneading your stomach almost absently, "I've been thinking about you all evening. It feels rude, but I'm not sure if I heard a word anyone said. All I could think about was how you look in this dress, all I wanted was to take you back home and do things I shouldn't think about in public."

You could feel a light thrumming from his body, a result of his engine quirk, a sign of his excitement. He grew semi-hard as he spoke, his arousal pressing against your back. His voice had a growing neediness to it, and in response, heat pooled, slow and sweet, between your legs. You licked your lips, resting your hands atop his, your thumbs brushing along his knuckles.

"Let's go home, Tenya," you said, hot desire coating your voice. You tilted your head up, back against his chest, and smiled up at him, "and we'll take care of you."

Getting home was sweet agony. Despite the promise of what awaited him at home, Tenya would not drive above the speed limit, ever the rule-follower. He didn't seem particularly happy about it, either, which made it even funnier to you despite your own impatience.

Eventually, blessedly, you made it home. As soon as you stepped through the front door, Tenya was sweeping you off your feet.

You gasped, your arms going around his strong shoulders as he held you bridal style and all but marched towards the bedroom. It never failed to turn you on, just how easily he could pick you up and carry you around. You were by no means petite, but that didn't pose a problem to Tenya. In fact, he seemed to prefer it in a lot of ways.

He laid you down on your bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you immediately. Neither of you had even had the chance to remove your shoes, that was how impatient he was to taste you. He covered you with his body, slotting himself between your legs. One hand cradled your face, the other wandered your plush curves. As his hips pressed against yours, you could feel his hardening length nudge up against your core.

“I’m sorry, (Name),” he murmured between his insistent kisses. His face was flushed, his glasses askew, “I don’t know what’s come over me.” His hand slid under your dress, caressing and squeezing your soft skin.

You giggled softly, returning his kisses, “you have nothing to apologize for…” He made it seem as though this was unusual for him to get this worked up, but it wasn’t. When he got in a particular mood, Tenya could become quite needy, and you loved him for it. You carefully removed his glasses, twisting and trying to reach the nightstand so you could safely set them aside, but he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second, catching your wrist and drawing your attention back to him. You released his glasses, letting them get lost somewhere on the bed.

“I need you,” he said, such desperation in his voice, kissing from your lips down to your neck and cleavage, smudging your lipstick all the way. He pushed the hem of your dress, up, up, up, until it bunched beneath your breasts. His hands smoothed over your stomach, one of his favorite features of yours, and his hips rutted against you.

“Mmm…” you squirmed beneath him, your eyes fluttering as his hips pushed against your clit, stimulating you through all the layers of clothing. He was so perfect like this, so hot when he lost his composure. Such a sight was just for you, and you would hoard it greedily.

“Tenya, love, get those clothes off,” you ordered breathlessly, and he was eager to obey, hurriedly ridding himself of his clothing with your help. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, hard and weeping pre-cum for you, the way it begged for your attention just like the rest of him. You reached out, wrapping your hand around it, and Tenya whined so sweetly.

You smiled at him, stroking slowly, twisting your wrist just so, and he responded with a throaty groan. His engines revved, and he moved to hover over you, gently guiding you back.

“I need you,” he kept saying, your dress was bunched up even further, exposing your breasts, he palmed at one, “I need inside of you, need to feel you,” he reached down, giving the waist of your panties a questioning, pleading tug, “please, (Name)?”

You nodded, “yes, Tenya, of course, sweetheart,” you lifted your hips slightly and he removed your underwear while you removed your dress, peeling it up over your head without bothering to unzip it.

It felt so good to feel him without any barriers, and he pressed into you. A wet, delicious glide that had you both moaning.

“(Name), (Name)… you feel so good…” Tenya murmured, his face nuzzling into the side of your head. He had a firm grip on your outer thigh, keeping your leg secure over his hip. His other hand braced against the mattress as he began to thrust into you at a hurried pace, pushing sweet sounds out of you as your normally patient lover gave in to his pent up lust.

“Mm, Tenya,” you gasped out, holding onto him, panting into his ear, “yes, love, yes…!” Your body bounced with the rhythm of his thrusts, your head tossed back against the mattress, and you could do little more than let him do what he wanted.

His hands began wandering your body, worshiping your curves with his touch. He babbled nonsense into your skin as he pressed distracted kisses wherever he could reach. Sweat coated his body, and you marveled at each flex of gorgeous muscle beneath his skin.

His thrusts became more insistent, his hold on you tightening, it wasn’t a surprise to you when he came with one final thrust, filling you to the brim. Tenya held you in place, his own body still, as he panted against your sweat-slick shoulder. You panted beneath him, hands restlessly stroking his biceps, your pussy stuffed but still craving release.

With a long, slow breath, he relaxed, the frenetic energy from before finally soothed. He lifted his head, a painfully tender smile on his face as he kissed your cheek, “that was...perfect, honey,” his voice was warm, his hand drifting up and down your side.

“I’m glad, sweetheart,” you said fondly, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he lifted your lower body, arranging you effortlessly into an angle that you knew would have you seeing stars. You could already feel him growing hard again inside of you, his stamina like nothing else.

He looked down at you with a heated grin that made your heart flutter, “now allow me to return the favor.” He leaned down, folding himself over you, “let me take care of you, (Name).”

(Requests)

HE’S SWEET WHEN HE’S SLEEPY ⍣₊˚｡ ( 僕のヒーローアカデミア )

◜◝ "he's warm beneath your hands, hazy with exhaustion and pleasure. half-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, breath hitching when you touch him into blissful stupidity."♡ ᯓft. pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x afab!reader ✦ synopsis — shinsou has been out on an overseas mission for too long, you help him fall apart before he falls asleep. ✦ content tags — mdni. somnophilia (consensual question mark??). sleepy sex. handjob. (m. recieving). oral (m. recieving). overstimulation. dumbification (if you squint). whimpering. soft!dom reader. sleepy!needy!shinsou.

﹙紫藤ひとし : shinsou hitoshi

Shinsou stumbles through the door as if he’s been dragged to hell and back, sweat clinging to his skin like a second layer. His breathing is shallow, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts, and those half-lidded, sleep-heavy eyes can barely stay open. He looks ruined—utterly wrecked—and yet, somehow, still unreal in how good he looks.

You don’t even try to hide how your gaze drinks him in. He’s shaky, barely keeping upright, but still so fucking pretty. You’d been so cruel to him all week—sending him videos just to ruin his focus, soft moans and pretty words meant only for his ears. You know he watched them over and over, probably came untouched just listening to your voice. He missed you so much it hurt, all need and no relief. And now? He’s finally here, looking worn down and perfect.

He collapses onto the couch, as if the weight of the world finally let him fall. A low groan escapes him, and his head lolls back against the cushions. You know he’s out cold—or close—but that doesn’t stop you. How could it?

You crawl up beside him, draping a leg over his thigh, fingers gently slipping into the messy strands of his lavender hair. It’s meant to be comforting. Just a little reward for making it home in one piece. But you’re not exactly innocent either—not when your own thighs are pressed together and aching. He smells like smoke and sweat and something distinctly him—warm, sharp, a little bit wild. It clings to his skin, seeps into your lungs, makes you dizzy in the best way. You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in like you've been starved. Then you drag your teeth along the curve of his throat, slow and reverent, like you’re trying to carve the taste of him into your memory.

He shifts, and the thick muscle of his thigh brushes right between your legs, catching your soaked panties just right. You freeze. Breath hitching.

Fuck. You can't help yourself.

Your lip is between your teeth in seconds. Your pulse jumps. You glance down at him—still asleep, still soft and slack with exhaustion—but when his hips twitch ever so slightly, something low in your gut tightens.

Poor thing's still in his hero suit. Sticky with sweat, too warm, probably stiff and uncomfortable. You tell yourself you're just helping by taking it off. You're a good girlfriend, right?

You press in closer, your palm gliding down the hard lines of his torso, dragging slowly over his body. The heat radiating off him makes your skin burn.

Another tiny movement. A flex of his thigh. This time the friction is sharper, deliciously unintentional. And fuck, you feel it now—the firm outline beneath the fabric, already swelling from your touch. Even in sleep, his cock twitches, begging for your touch.

One hand drifts lower, ghosting over the bulge pressing against his boxers. He shivers. The smallest sound slips past his lips—a breathy whine.

He doesn’t open his eyes.

Doesn’t need to.

His body’s already telling you everything.

His thigh is solid beneath you, flexing with each breath, and the friction has your head spinning. You roll your hips again, slower this time, and god—his touch is addicting. A quiet whimper slips from his throat, the sound making you clench around his leg.

Your hand dips lower, tracing the shape of his cock through the fabric, and he twitches again—hips jerking just a little, like his body’s stuck somewhere between a dream and submission. Your hand slips under his boxers, just to feel him.

At this point, he’s rocking his hips upward without thinking, working in slow, clumsy thrusts. He's fucking your fist like it’s instinct—slack-jawed, brainless, cock twitching with every rut. He’s so far gone, he doesn’t even realise he’s humping like an animal in heat. You press your mouth to his ear, a smile curling your lips as you whisper, "You like that, baby? Like being used in your sleep?"

“Mmh—nghh…” he slurrs out, "feels—hnnh—feels good." His hips give a pitiful little thrust into your palm, head lolling to the side like he’s chasing your voice in his dream. He's not really asleep anymore, his body's too responsive, too needy. His brows twitch, lips parted, whispering out broken sounds.

You tighten your grip.

That earns you a sharper gasp—still quiet, still sleepy, but ragged now, like it’s scraping out of his chest. “Ah—h-hnnn...” His mouth's slack, spit glistening at the corner like he’s too far gone to care. So fucking helpless. So fucking easy.

“Bet you’ve been thinking about this all week,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over his swollen tip, smearing the mess he’s already made. “Wearing that earpiece listening to me moan like a pervert… jerking yourself off in some shitty hotel bathroom, huh?”

He twitches hard. “Mmh—yes...ngh—” Just noise now, nonsense. His thighs tremble beneath you, and his breathing stutters. His head tips toward you like he’s trying to respond, back arching into your touch. His body caught on the edge.

“You couldn’t even touch me, baby,” you coo, sweet and cruel. “Couldn’t have me, couldn’t cum for me—not really. You need me to do it, don’t you?”

“Y...yeah…” he breathes out, voice mumbled and distant, so soft you barely catch it. “Need... need you—mmmph—”

His whole body tenses—then melts, collapsing into you with a broken moan as he spills over your fingers. He curls in on himself as he cums, your name slipping from his lips like a prayer, "hahh… feels s'nice—'m cumming—m'sorry—"

He falls out of sheer exhaustion, breath shallow and shaky as he sinks into the cushions like he’s boneless. But you’re not done. Not even close.

You shift in his lap, fingers curled around the base of his softening cock—still messy, still leaking. The head is flushed pink, angry and overstimulated, and you can’t resist.

You lower your head, tongue dragging a slow, wet stripe up his shaft—cleaning him up, sure, but savouring it too. You moan as the taste hits your tongue, and he jolts under you, a broken whimper punching out of him. His hips twitch, helpless. "Nnh—d-don't," he whines, voice hoarse, but there's no real protest in it. His thighs are trembling.

You just smile against him, licking up the rest, slow and warm and too much. His whole body shudders. “Hhmmph—’s too much—c-can’t—I can’t…”

“Shhh, I’m just cleaning you up, baby,” you coo, but your voice is all honey and poison. “You made such a mess. Let me take care of you.” He's warm beneath your hands, hazy with exhaustion and pleasure as you ease him into blissful stupidity.

He’s trying not to cry now. His chest is rising too fast, soft little gasps tumbling out of his mouth every time your tongue flicks over his tip. You don’t stop. He’s just too pretty like this.

You move higher, straddling his thigh again, grinding down slow—your soaked panties dragging over the same spot you used earlier. The muscle underneath flexes weakly in response, and god, the sound he makes? Desperate, fragile. “S’wet—dripping—can’t even breathe,” You feel his tears before you see them—warm against your fingers when you cup his face.

“Poor baby,” you murmur, rocking your hips in slow circles, “are you crying? Is it too much?”

He frantically nods, too fucked out to form a proper response, sobbing quietly now—but his hips are still moving, weak little thrusts that tell you he needs this even if he can’t take it.

You moan into his mouth as you kiss him, one hand wrapped around his spent cock again, rubbing him raw and dripping. Your clit catches on the curve of his thigh just right, and you rut harder, chasing your own orgasm.

You’re lost in the way his skin feels under yours, slick and burning with need, and with every movement, you make sure he knows just how much you want it, how much you want him.

He’s sobbing now—eyes fluttering, mouth open, voice ragged—but his hands clutch at your hips like he needs you to keep going.

You drag yourself along his thigh with more force, and it hits—hard. You moan, high and needy, hips jerking as you cum against his skin, grinding yourself into a trembling mess. He gasps, so overwhelmed by the heat and mess, that it doesn't take long for him to finish again—not without a chorus of whiney moans and “please, please, please…“

When you finally stop moving, he’s panting against your chest, your thighs twitching around him, he’s still crying—soft and silent now, face wet, body limp.

But you kiss the tears away. You always do.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” you whisper, brushing the hair from his forehead. “Missed you so much.”

And he nods, wrecked and grateful, clinging to you like a lifeline.

He’s always been such a pretty crier.