NOTAKING
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Chapter 45(MHA)
🕑 Added 2025-08-10 22:09:00 +0000 UTC“I better get going,” Izuku said, standing up and slinging his bag over one shoulder. His voice was calm, but the faint glint in his eyes told her he was more than satisfied with himself.
Mitsuki watched him move toward the door, her body still faintly trembling from earlier. Her pride bristled, heat rising in her chest.
“So you’re just gonna leave?” she snapped. “I’m not some hoe you fuck and leave, you know.” Her tone carried more emotion than she intended, a crack in her usual composure.
Izuku didn’t flinch. He stepped back toward her, closing the distance in two strides. Leaning in, he pressed a slow kiss to her forehead. “You see… I would’ve kissed you on the lips if you’d cleaned your mouth first.” His words were low, teasing, and deliberate.
Her eyes widened, a hot flush climbing up her neck.
Without thinking, Mitsuki grabbed him by the collar and yanked him down, pressing her lips to his in a sudden, forceful kiss. His eyes flicked open in surprise, and in the same instant, he tasted himself on her tongue.
She pulled back slowly, their lips parting with a faint smack. A smirk tugged at her mouth.
“You can leave now,” she said, her voice dripping with smug defiance.
For a moment, Izuku simply stared at her—then smiled faintly. “We’ll see each other on the weekend. When? Well…” He slung his bag higher on his shoulder. “…that’ll be a surprise.”
He walked out without another word, the front door clicking shut behind him.
Mitsuki stood there for a beat before exhaling sharply, forcing her body to move. She headed upstairs, feet heavier than usual, and stepped into her bathroom.
The cool water from the tap splashed against her face as she rinsed her mouth and wiped away any smudged makeup. She leaned forward against the counter, meeting her own reflection in the mirror.
Her mind flickered through flashes of what just happened—the weight of his hands, the way he’d looked at her, that taste still lingering on her tongue. Her breath hitched, and a deep blush spread across her cheeks before she could stop it.
A small, wry smile curved her lips as she whispered to her reflection, “Maybe… I’m not a sadist after all.”
....
Izuku arrived home, stepping through the front door with the casual heaviness of someone who’d had a long day.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted his mother sitting on the couch. Inko looked… off. Her posture was stiff, shoulders a little too tense, and her hands were clasped in her lap like she was hiding something. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink, and she avoided his eyes entirely.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, walking closer.
She glanced at him quickly, then down at the floor. “O-oh, nothing. Just… resting.”
Zzzzzz
The faint, muffled vibration made Izuku’s eyebrow twitch. He tilted his head, listening for a second before letting out a quiet sigh. “Oh… I get it.” His tone was calm, almost amused. “Continue—but not on the couch, Mom.”
Without waiting for her response, he floated upward in a slow, controlled levitation, disappearing upstairs in seconds.
Inko sat frozen, her face now red as a tomato. The humiliation hit her like a wave.
‘He’s going to think I’m some pervert now…’ she thought, her heart racing. She reached under the couch and pulled out the small, sleek vibrator she’d been trying to hide. Her fingers trembled as she set it on the table beside her.
She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, the screen lighting up to a familiar, hidden folder. Her thumb hovered for a moment before tapping it, revealing the photo she’d taken of Izuku’s upper body weeks ago—sweat glistening on his skin, muscles tight and defined.
She bit her lip, a whisper slipping from her.
“I really… need help.”
[10 Minutes Before Izuku Arrived]
The house was quiet.
Inko sat alone in the living room, her breathing already uneven. She had drawn the curtains halfway shut, letting only slivers of afternoon light spill across the couch. Her legs were spread just enough for comfort, the hem of her skirt riding high as her hand worked in steady, slow motions.
The small pink vibrator hummed softly against her sensitive folds, each subtle shift making her thighs twitch. Her other hand clutched her phone tightly, the image of Izuku’s bare, sculpted torso displayed on the screen. Every detail — the curve of his chest, the sharp cut of his abs — burned into her mind.
Her lips parted in a quiet gasp as she pressed the toy harder against herself.
‘God… I shouldn’t be doing this…’ she told herself, but her hips rolled against the sensation anyway, desperate for more.
The wetness between her thighs grew, coating the toy as her mind betrayed her — the picture on her phone shifting in her imagination into something more. Izuku, shirtless, standing in front of her, leaning closer. His warm breath on her ear, his voice low.
Her pulse quickened. Her grip on the toy tightened.
“Ohh—” she whimpered softly, her toes curling in her slippers.
The pleasure was cresting now, building fast. She could feel her climax clawing up her spine, her body tensing as her breathing turned ragged.
‘Just a little more… just a little—’
Click.
The front door opened.
Her eyes snapped open in panic, her orgasm shattering into nothing but a jolt of embarrassment. The vibrator was still buzzing faintly as she scrambled to shut it off, shoving it under the couch cushion just as Izuku’s footsteps approached.
When he stepped into the living room, her cheeks were already flushed, but for a very different reason than she’d hoped.
Izuku entered his room and shut the door behind him with a quiet click. He let out a long breath, tossed his jacket on the bed, and made his way straight to the bathroom. The moment the lights flicked on, he stared into the mirror, face blank. His tongue felt dry. His stomach still twisted at the memory.
He grabbed his toothbrush with slightly shaking hands.
Scrub. Spit. Rinse. Repeat.
"Man, that was disgusting," he muttered under his breath, scrubbing with an almost vengeful intensity. 'Never thought I'd taste myself. Fuck… I can't even think about it. I need therapy now,' he thought, groaning internally. He could already feel the trauma nestling in the back of his head like a spider.
Once he was satisfied—at least with the minty numbness on his tongue—he headed back to his desk and powered up his laptop. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen as it loaded.
Click.
He began researching the mayor—his ties, background, any statements on the rising homeless rates, and most importantly, available city-owned land that could serve as a shelter site. His fingers moved fast, his mind sharp.
Bzzz.
A notification popped up on his phone.
Mt. Lady: "Hey. Patrol tonight? Just us?"
Izuku stared at the screen. Her wording was playful. Too casual. He could imagine the smug smirk on her lips when she typed it.
He rolled his eyes.
‘I'll release the project in her name. I don’t really care about credit or headlines,’ he thought. ‘If she wants the spotlight, she can have it.’
Still, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Then his thoughts shifted—like flipping a switch—to Uraraka.
He opened a new tab and started pulling up info about her parents. Job records, work history, tax status, even their employers’ reputation.
‘I’ll offer them jobs… they’d never just accept money or food from me. Not right away anyway.’ He leaned forward, fingers drumming against his lips. ‘I need this to seem as natural as possible.’
He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
‘Her dad works in construction… and her mom’s in logistics, if I remember correctly. That’s useful. Maybe I can slot them in somewhere near the top, but not too high. Give them purpose without pressure. Dignity matters.’
He nodded to himself and began writing everything down—names, roles, ideas. Little branches forming on a larger plan. The shelter, the PR angle, Mt. Lady’s involvement, and now Uraraka’s family. A spiderweb of solutions forming in his mind.
Eventually, he shut the lid of his laptop and stood up.
Glancing at his hero outfit dumped in the corner, he scoffed.
“That’s not gonna work tonight.”
Instead, he pulled out a plain black hoodie and matching trousers. He slid on a thin compression mask that covered his entire face.
Staring at his reflection, he tilted his head.
‘I look like an emo now,’ he thought. ‘Better than that gimp suit.’
He pulled the hood up, stepped out onto his balcony, and vanished into the night sky.
TO BE CONTINUED
