Family Bonding – Uraraka Style

(Note: This story is part of an ongoing series of My Hero Academia stories)
Previous Story (Chapter 55): [LINK]
Beginning (Chapter 01): [LINK]
Next Story (Chapter 57): [LINK]

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The late-afternoon sun slanted through the half-open blinders of the Uraraka family’s modest living room, painting warm stripes across the hardwood floor. Izuku stood just inside the genkan, shoes neatly aligned, clutching a small box holding a castella cake like it was a shield. His palms were damp; the ribbon on the box had started to fray from nervous fidgeting. The cake was from a crazy expensive bakery. Momo had bought it when Izuku told her he was wondering what he should bring for the meeting. He’d tried to decline, but she was insistent.

 

Ochaco bounced on the balls of her feet beside him. “Relax, Deku-kun! Mom’s gonna love you.”

 

The door to the kitchen slid open with a soft SHHK. Mrs. Uraraka stepped out, apron dusted with flour, dark hair tied back in a loose bun that mirrored her daughter’s. She was shorter than Izuku had imagined, barely an inch taller than her daughter. Somehow, the green haired young man expected her to be a head taller than her daughter or something.

 

More unexpected though, was how HUGE her breasts were! Both were easily twice the size of her head. Maybe even bigger than that. Ochaco’s mother wiped her hands on the apron, her gigantic tits bouncing from the movement and tilted her head. “So, this is the boy who keeps my daughter floating on air, hm?” she asked, a warm smile spreading across her lips.

 

Izuku’s spine straightened so fast he nearly dropped the cake. “G-good afternoon, ma’am! Izuku Midoriya, UA Class 3-A! Thank you for having me!” The words tumbled out in one breath, his voice cracking.

 

Mrs. Uraraka’s laugh was low and warm, the kind that started in the chest. “No need to be so nervous. Come in before you salute the furniture.”

 

Ochaco tugged him forward by the sleeve. Introductions were formally exchanged, Ochaco’s mother was named Yūka Uraraka, and she was the CFO of Uraraka Construction Company. The living room smelled faintly of miso and grilled fish. A single potted cactus sat on the windowsill. When she noticed where Izuku’s eyes were drawn, she giggled, “I introduced mom to Rie a few days ago.” she informed him, “Sorry. I should have warned you!” she said, clasping her hands together apologetically.

 

“Lovely girl, and such an interesting Quirk!” Mrs. Uraraka said as she hefted her immense breasts. She let them fall a moment later, and Izuku could practically hear a cartoonish “BOING” sound before she took the castella with both hands.

 

“You didn’t have to bring anything.” she said sweetly.

 

“It’s nothing fancy,” Izuku lied, bowing again out of habit. “My mom says empty hands are rude.”

 

“Your mom raised you right.” She set the box on the low table and gestured to the cushions. “Sit. Ochaco, tea.”

 

Ochaco collected the box with the cake and darted off. Izuku folded himself onto the cushion, knees together, back ramrod straight. Mrs. Uraraka sat opposite, studying him with the same round, earnest eyes her daughter had, only hers carried the faint creases of someone who’d smiled from long days and longer nights.

 

“So,” she said, folding her hands. “You’re the one who caught my girl when she fell from the sky during the entrance exam.”

 

Izuku flushed scarlet. “Technically she caught me with her Quirk. I just…” he trailed off.

 

“Details.” Mrs. Uraraka waved a hand. “Point is, you didn’t let go. That matters.”

 

Silence settled, comfortable but weighted. Izuku’s fingers nervously toyed with the hem of his hoodie. He could feel the questions she wasn’t asking: Are you good enough for her? Will you keep her safe? Can you promise she’ll come home?

 

Ochaco returned with a tray, three chipped mugs, a plate of sliced castella, steam curling like lazy question marks. She plunked down next to him, legs crossed.

 

Mrs. Uraraka lifted her mug. “To young heroes who still remember their manners.”

 

Izuku clinked his mug carefully. The tea was strong, a little bitter, and perfect. Mrs. Uraraka took a bite of cake and nodded in approval. “Your mom’s recipe?”

 

“Ah, um, n-no, store-bought. But I can look up the recipe if…”

 

“Relax, Midoriya-kun.” She smiled, and the creases by her eyes deepened. “You’re doing fine.”

 

Ochaco leaned over, whispering loud enough for both to hear, “Told you she’d like you.”

 

Mrs. Uraraka (Yūka as she insisted he call her) reached out and ruffled Izuku’s hair, the gesture was oddly calming, and incredibly motherly. “Anyone who makes my daughter grin like that gets extra rice. Stay for dinner.”

 

Izuku’s shoulders finally dropped. “Yes, ma’am!” he squawked, then forcibly calmed himself, “I mean, thank you.” He didn’t understand WHY he was so nervous. He’d faced down villains that still gave him nightmares, and suffered injuries that had actually threatened his life. He was even sexually active with several beautiful women all at once. Yet, somehow, meeting this woman made him even more nervous than any of that.

 

Outside, the sun dipped lower, gilding the cactus spines gold. Inside, Izuku shared an awkward meal with Ochaco and her mother. He learned during the course of the meal that her father had meant to be here as well, but was called away to Hokkaido to deal with an issue at a new building his company was working on.

 

After dinner…

 

The dishes clinked softly as Ochaco carried the tray back to the kitchen. “I’ll just rinse these real quick!” she called, voice bright, the swing door muffling her footsteps.

 

Izuku exhaled, tension easing now that the immediate spotlight was off. Yūka remained seated across from him, elbows on the low table, chin propped on interlaced fingers. The late light caught the fine dusting of flour still on her forearm.

 

“You’re wound tight, Midoriya-kun,” she said, voice lower than before. “Hero training or just first-time nerves?”

 

He laughed, a small, nervous puff. “Both, I think. I, um… really want to make a good impression.”

 

Yūka’s smile shifted, still warm, but the corners of her mouth curled with something unreadable. She lifted herself from the cushion and moved to sit beside him instead of across. The cushion dipped; her knee brushed his.

 

“You already have,” she murmured. One hand settled lightly on his forearm, thumb tracing the sleeve seam. “Ochaco talks about you nonstop. The way you look at her, like she hung the moon.”

 

Izuku’s face flared crimson. “M-Mrs. Uraraka—”

 

“Shh.” Her fingers slid down to his wrist, pulse hammering under her touch. “I said you can call me Yūka. Relax. I’m not the villain here.” She leaned in, breath warm against his ear. “Just a mother making sure her daughter’s boyfriend knows how ‘grateful’ the family is.”

 

The way she said ‘boyfriend’ hit like a spark. Izuku’s brain short-circuited between ‘This is wrong!’ and ‘Ochaco’s mom smells like vanilla and miso and…’

 

The swing door creaked. Yūka was already upright, sliding back to her original seat with the fluid grace of someone who’d lifted girders for twenty years. By the time Ochaco poked her head in, tray balanced on one palm, her mother was calmly sipping cold tea.

 

“Everything okay?” Ochaco asked, brow furrowing at Izuku’s statue-still posture.

 

“Perfect,” Yūka said smoothly. “Your Deku-kun was just telling me about your last sparring match. Sounds like you floated him right into next week.”

 

Ochaco giggled and flopped down next to him again, oblivious. Izuku stared at his own hands, knuckles white around his mug, the ghost-pressure of fingers still burning on his wrist.

 

Yūka’s eyes flicked to him over the rim of her cup, amused, knowing, dangerous!

 

Ochaco’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen and smiled. “It’s the construction office. Gotta be dad, he only calls me from the office number when he needs my help on something, be right back!” Ochaco excused herself and darted out, sliding the door shut behind her with a click that echoed too loudly in the sudden quiet.

 

The room shrank. The air thickened, scented with tea and something sharper, anticipation, maybe fear. Izuku’s pulse thudded in his ears so loudly, he thought he might go deaf.

 

Yūka didn’t move at first. Then she stood, slow and deliberate, and crossed the small space until she stood over him. The apron was gone now, tossed aside; her plain blouse clung to the massive curves of her enhanced tits. He could see she didn’t wear a bra underneath, her nipples clearly outlined in the thin fabric. She knelt, knees bracketing his on the cushion, hands settling on his shoulders with surprising strength.

 

“Izuku,” she said, voice velvet and gravel. “Look at me.”

 

He did. There was no way he couldn’t. Her eyes were darker than Ochaco’s, storm-cloud brown, flecked with gold from the window. She smelled like flour and warm skin and something that made his stomach flip.

 

“You’re shaking,” she observed, thumb brushing the hollow beneath his collarbone. “Afraid of me?”

 

“N-no, ma’am. I just…” His voice cracked. “This is…”

 

“Wrong?” She finished the sentence against his ear, lips barely grazing the edge. “Or just new?”

 

Her hand slid down his chest, slow, deliberate, stopping just above his belt. Not pushing. Not yet. Just there, a promise and a threat. “Ochaco’s gone for five minutes. Door’s closed. No one has to know.” Her breath was a hot whisper against his ear, the warmth of it sending tingles from the base of his skull, down his spine to his groin and back again!

 

Izuku’s breath hitched. His body betrayed him, heat pooling low, traitor-fast. He clenched his fists on his thighs. “I-I can’t. She’s your daughter.”

 

Yūka’s laugh was soft, almost fond. “And you’re the boy who’d die for her. I know.” She leaned closer, forehead almost touching his. “But right now, you’re here. And my daughter has told me about the “special” relationship you, and I think it was six other women, have.”

 

Her fingers found the zipper of his hoodie, tugged it down tooth by tooth. The sound was obscene in the hush. Cool air kissed his throat; her mouth followed, open and warm, just below his jaw. A single, deliberate press of lips. A flick of tongue.

 

Izuku’s hands flew to her waist, ‘To push her away’, he told himself—but his fingers curled into the fabric instead, bunching it like he was holding on for balance. A whimper escaped him, small and mortified.

 

“Shh,” she soothed, teeth grazing his earlobe. “You’re allowed to want things, hero.”

 

The door handle rattled.

 

Yūka was back on her cushion before the door slid open, legs crossed, hands folded primly in her lap. Izuku sat frozen, hoodie half-zipped, face flaming, the taste of her still burning on his skin.

 

Ochaco breezed in, waving a signed form. “All done! What’d I miss?”

 

Yūka smiled serenely. “Your boyfriend was just telling me how much he respects family values.”

 

Izuku couldn’t speak. Couldn’t look at either of them. The cactus on the windowsill threw a long, spiky shadow across the floor, like a warning neither Uraraka seemed to heed. They spoke again about several topics, school, classes, the battle with All for One came up only briefly, but she didn’t seem particularly interested. Likely she’d heard all the ugly details from Ochaco in the months following that. War stories weren’t really for a setting like this anyway.

 

They were just getting into Izuku’s plans for after graduation when Ochaco’s phone rang again from her father’s company number. She excused herself again, walking out of the room so they wouldn’t overhear half a conversation.

 

Ochaco’s footsteps faded down the hall toward the bathroom, the door clicking shut. The second the lock snicked, Yūka was on him!

 

No preamble. No gentle coaxing. She straddled his lap in one fluid motion, knees pinning his thighs to the cushion, hands gripping in his hoodie to yank him forward. Her mouth crashed against his, hot, demanding, tasting of tea and something darker. Izuku’s startled gasp was swallowed by her tongue sliding past his teeth, claiming space he hadn’t known was empty.

 

He made a strangled sound, hands flying to her hips, ‘Stop her! Push her off!’ he thought desperately, but his fingers dug in instead, anchoring. She rolled her hips once, deliberate, and the friction dragged a broken moan from his throat.

 

“Good boy,” she whispered against his lips, then bit the lower one, sharp enough to sting. Her hand dropped between them, palming the front of his jeans with unapologetic certainty. Izuku jerked, hips bucking involuntarily into her grip.

 

She squeezed, firm and possessive through the denim, feeling him harden under her touch. “Already?” she murmured, voice husky. “Thought heroes had better control.”

 

Izuku’s head thunked back against the wall. “Y-Yūka… Please…”

 

“Please ‘what’?” She stroked once, slow, thumb tracing the ridge straining against his zipper. “Please stop? Or please don’t?”

 

His answer was a whimper. She kissed it away, swallowing the sound, tongue stroking his in a rhythm that matched the lazy drag of her hand. The room blurred… Floor, cactus, the faint scent of miso, all drowned by the wet heat of her mouth and the pressure building low in his gut.

 

Her other hand slipped under his shirt, nails raking lightly over his stomach, tracing the faint scars from his battles. She ground down harder, the seam of her skirt riding up, skin on skin where his hoodie had bunched. Izuku’s hands slid up her back, trembling, clutching at the fabric like it could keep him grounded.

 

She broke away from his lips, kissing both his cheeks, her ruby lipstick leaving marks on his skin. She then moved to bite a path down his neck, teeth scraping his collarbone. Her grip tightened on his groin as she squeezed, and his vision whited out for a second, a choked cry muffled against her shoulder.

 

The bathroom door handle rattled.

 

Yūka was off him in a heartbeat, sliding back to her cushion with the same impossible grace. Izuku sat panting, hoodie askew, lips swollen, jeans painfully tight. She licked her lower lip once—slow, deliberate—then picked up her tea like nothing had happened.

 

Ochaco stepped in, “Phew, glad we got that cleared up. Everything okay?” her voice asked a few steps behind Izuku.

 

Yūka smiled, serene. “We were just discussing UA’s stamina training. Your Deku-kun’s very dedicated.”

 

Izuku stared at the floor, face burning, the phantom pressure of her hand still throbbing between his legs. The cactus shadow had shifted, now it looked less like a warning and more like a witness. He could honestly FEEL the lipstick on his cheeks, and had no idea how to explain it without things becoming frighteningly awkward!

 

Then, as if on cue, Ochaco’s phone buzzed again, this time with a different number, “Oh, it’s Ryukyu, I’m so sorry, I need to take this!” Ochaco said as she ran to the kitchen.

 

Silence crashed in like a tidal wave.

 

Yūka didn’t speak. She simply stood, took Izuku’s trembling hand, and led him down the narrow hallway. Past the bathroom. Past Ochaco’s room with its All Might poster and floating star stickers. Into the master bedroom, dim, curtains drawn, the faint scent of cedar and laundry soap.

 

She shut the door. Locked it. The click had the finality of a TV drama episode that ended with a gunshot.

 

Izuku stood frozen by the foot of the bed, fists clenched at his sides. “We-we can’t…”

 

“We already are,” she said, voice low. She unbuttoned her blouse with steady fingers, letting it slide off her shoulders. No bra. Just skin, unblemished and flawless, huge breasts full and heavy. She stepped close, took his hands, and pressed them to her waist. “Touch me, Izuku. I’m not made of glass.”

 

His thumbs brushed the curve of her ribs, tentative. She exhaled, guiding one hand higher, until his palm cupped over her breast. The weight of it, the soft give under his fingers, he knew this sensation all too well as his breath stuttered. She kissed him again, slower this time, coaxing his mouth open, teaching him the rhythm with her tongue.

 

Clothes fell away in layers. His hoodie. Her skirt. His jeans, shoved down with impatient hands. She pushed him back onto the bed’s firm mattress and cool sheets. “Oh! Oh my~!” she gasped in awe at the sight of his gigantic cock that stood up fully, now unrestrained by his pants. Long as his legs and twice as thick, the towering shaft of man meat throbbed in the cool air.

 

Yūka hugged her naked body against the giant rod, her skin was soft, warm, and very smooth. She peppered his cock with kisses, covering it in lipstick marks before she opened her mouth wide and swallowed more than half of it!

 

“Ooooooooh…!” Izuku let out a shuddery groan at the feel of the older woman’s mouth and throat. She knelt down on all fours on the bed, forcing more of his length into her mouth with a gagging noise.

 

“GWUUUUUMMMMPH!!!” she moaned from deep in her throat as she somehow managed to gobble all of his cock, her nose buried in a tangle of green pubic hairs. She then leaned her body back, letting out a choking sound before pushing forwards again.

 

“GWUH GUK GUH GURGH GWEH GUH…!” Yūka’s gagging moans were loud in Izuku’s ears as he watched while she worked her mouth back and forth on his dick.

 

“Haaaah, Y-Yūka-san… Ahhh…” Izuku groaned. Ochaco’s mother was GOOD at this! There was no wasted movement, and she knew just how much pressure to apply somehow, and he couldn’t even feel her teeth, like at all.

 

She kept the blowjob up for what felt like forever, but couldn’t have been more than two minutes before she stopped. He let out a plaintive groan, he was getting so close, and he guessed she knew that, which was why she stopped, and straddled his cock with her naked body! Her knees bracketed his hips as her weight pressed his cock up to rest flush against his upper body. Izuku’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, every muscle locked.

 

“Breathe,” she murmured, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. She stood up very slowly, keeping her pussy pressed against the underside of his dick. He could feel the raw heat coming off her as she breathed, “Easy.”

 

She guided him to her entrance, slick and ready, and sank down in one slow, deliberate glide. Izuku’s head fell back, a broken sound tearing from his throat as she took him fully. Tight. Wet. Hot! She paused, his size pushing her stomach up visibly as she let him feel every inch, then rolled her hips once, testing.

 

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, his hands moving to her thighs, gripping hard enough to bruise.

 

Yūka smiled, dark and triumphant, and began to move. Slow at first—long, deep strokes that dragged over every nerve. Then faster, hips snapping, the bed creaking under them. She braced her hands on his chest, nails digging into muscle, riding him with the grace of years of experience at doing exactly this!

 

“AHHHHH, YEESSS, SO FUUUULL! I’VE NEVER HAD MY PUSSY FILLED LIKE THIS BEFOOOORE!” Yūka screamed, bouncing herself up and down on his cock hard.

 

“Haahhh, Yūka-san… Yūka-san!!!” Izuku groaned, unable to stop his own hips from thrusting up into her movements.

 

Izuku’s world narrowed to the slap of skin, the wet sounds, the way her massive breasts bounced with each thrust. She leaned down, biting his shoulder to muffle her own moan as he hit something inside her that made her shudder.

 

“There,” she hissed. “Right there, hero!”

 

He obeyed, hips pistoning, chasing the heat coiling low in his gut. She reached between them, fingers circling her clit, breath hitching. The sight of her—head thrown back, throat exposed, pleasure written across every line, pushed him over.

 

Izuku sat up, then pushed Yūka down onto her back, jackhammering his cock into her tight, wet, stretched hole! The PLAP PLAP PLAP of their bodies grew louder and faster, as did her screaming moans of pleasure.

 

“AHHHHIIIIYYAAAAAAAA!!!! GOOOD! FEELS GOOOOOOD!” Yūka screamed in ecstasy as he felt her pussy spraying against his crotch repeatedly. “CUMMING! CUMMING SO HAAAARD!!! MY PUSSY FEELS SO GOOOOOOD!!!”

 

Izuku groaned again, standing up on his knees, then, grabbing her thigh and pushing both her legs up over her head, he rotated her around on his dick, laying her down on her side. He then moved to lay behind her, holding one leg high as he continued pounding his length back and forth.

 

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP

 

The sound of raw flesh on flesh continued, the bed creaking and groaning in protest. She reached back with one arm, pulling his head to hers until their mouths connected. Their tongues swirled around one another’s in a slippery wet dance until she broke the kiss to scream in pleasure again.

 

“CUMMING! CUMMING SO MUUUUUUCH!!!” she howled, her pussy spraying like a faucet now.

 

The pressure inside Izuku’s groin mounted again, “I… I can’t…!” he choked.

 

“CUM,” she commanded, clenching around him deliberately. “INSIDE, NOOOOW!!!”

 

He did, his cock spasming inside, her hips jerking as she milked him through it. She came again as well seconds later, a sharp, silent gasp, inner walls fluttering around him. They collapsed together, sweat-slicked, trembling.

 

For a long moment, only breathing. Then she kissed his temple softly. “Good boy.”

 

The two then heard footsteps in the hall outside, Ochaco.

 

The hallway floorboard creaked, Yūka froze, Izuku still buried deep inside her, her back arched against his chest. The door was cracked open (hadn’t she locked it?) and there stood Ochaco, one hand still on the knob, cheeks pink from the cold outside.

 

Silence stretched, thick and electric.

 

Izuku’s heart stopped. He tried to pull out, to scramble, to apologize, but Yūka’s hands clamped on his hips, holding him in place. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t cover herself. Just looked at her daughter with calm, half-lidded eyes.

 

Ochaco’s gaze flicked over them: her mother’s flushed skin, Izuku’s wide, panicked eyes, the way their bodies were still joined. She tilted her head, expression unreadable for a beat.

 

Then she smiled, soft, almost amused.

 

“Mom,” she said, voice light, “you’re hogging my boyfriend.”

 

Yūka huffed a laugh, low and unashamed. “He’s got stamina. Thought I’d test it.”

 

Izuku made a strangled noise, face crimson, trying to shrink into the mattress. Ochaco stepped fully into the room, closed the door behind her with a quiet *click*, and leaned against it.

 

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said. “Ryukyu just wanted to know where I left an incident report, but it wasn’t where I left it, turns out the cleaning lady moved it by mistake.”

 

Yūka rolled her hips once, slowly, making Izuku whimper. “You’re not mad?” she asked, but something in her tone didn’t belay confusion, more than it did, amusement?

 

Ochaco shrugged, kicking off her shoes. “You’ve been eyeing him since dinner. I figured it was only a matter of time.” She padded across the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and reached out to brush a curl from Izuku’s sweat-damp forehead. “Hi, Deku-kun. Having fun?”

 

He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

 

Yūka resumed moving, slower now, deliberate. “He’s still hard as a rock,” she murmured. “Poor thing’s been holding back.”

 

Ochaco leaned in, kissed Izuku’s temple, soft and sweet. “Finish with Mom. Then come to my room. I want my turn.”

 

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. His body moving almost as if it had a will of its own, hips jerking, pumping his dick back and forth inside Yūka as she clenched around him, riding out his second wind with a satisfied moan.

 

The two began moving together again, shifting to have her on top again. She grinned down at him, hands rubbing over the lump in her belly from his size.

 

Izuku lay there, stunned, staring at the ceiling, his mind still working to process exactly what was happening.

 

Yūka then snapped her hips down, stirring Izuku’s cock inside, her slick walls clenching around him like a fist. Sweat dripped from her chin onto his chest; the bedframe rattled against the wall with every brutal roll. Izuku’s hands were clamped on her ass, fingers digging into muscle, pulling her harder, faster, chasing the edge.

 

Ochaco stood in the doorway, eyes wide but not shocked. She took in the scene: her mother’s tits bouncing, nipples peaked; Izuku’s face twisted in raw, desperate pleasure, mouth open on a silent scream; the wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene squelch of her mother’s cunt swallowing him whole.

 

Yūka didn’t stop. She ground down, circling her hips, clit dragging against his pelvis. “Mmmmmmn, you weren’t kidding about your boyfriend, sweetie,” she panted, voice hoarse. “He’s soooooo good!”

 

Izuku tried to pull out as he felt another orgasm coming, tried being the operative word, but Yūka slammed back down, pinning him. “Don’t you fucking dare,” she snarled, nails raking red lines down his chest. “You cum *inside* me, hero! Fill me up!”

 

Ochaco shifted in her seat on the edge of the bed. Her gaze dropped to where they were joined: Izuku’s cock, thick and glistening, disappearing into her mother’s stretched pussy, creamy with arousal. She licked her lips.

 

“Mom, you’re gripping him too tight,” she said, almost conversational. “He’s not gonna cum if you keep squeezing like that.”

 

Yūka laughed, breathless, and slammed down again. The headboard cracked against the wall. Izuku’s back arched, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as his balls drew up tight.

 

Ochaco leaned forward from where she sat on the bed beside them. She reached between her mother’s thighs, fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast, merciless circles. “Come on, Deku-kun. Give it to her. I want to see you break her!”

 

Yūka’s rhythm stuttered. “FUCK YES, RIGHT THERE…!” Her cunt clamped down, spasming, and Izuku exploded. Hot, thick ropes of cum flooded her, pulsing deep, overflowing, dripping down his shaft and onto the sheets. He thrashed beneath her, hips jerking, babbling nonsense.

 

Ochaco didn’t wait. She shoved two fingers into her mother’s mouth, let her suck them clean of their slick, mixed fluids, then leaned down and licked a stripe up Izuku’s neck, tasting salt and sex. “My turn,” she whispered against his ear. “Shower first. Then my room. I want you raw.”

 

Yūka eased off him with a wet ‘pop’, cum leaking from her swollen pussy in thick strands. She cupped Izuku’s spent cock, gave it a lazy stroke. “Go clean up, baby. Ochaco’s been wet since dinner.”

 

Izuku stumbled to the bathroom on shaky legs, cock still half-hard, mind blank. Behind him, Ochaco’s voice floated through the hall, sweet and filthy: “Bring the lube, Deku-kun. Mom’s not the only one who wants to ride you tonight.”

 

Izuku barely made it to the bathroom. The shower was ice-cold, but it did nothing to douse the fire still raging in his veins. His cock twitched at the memory—Yūka’s pussy milking him dry, Ochaco’s fingers on her clit, that wicked lick up his throat. He soaped up roughly, rinsed the evidence away, but the ache between his legs only grew. Raw, she’d said. Ride you.

 

He grabbed the lube from the medicine cabinet, ‘Why was it in here?’ he thought and stumbled down the hall, towel slung low on his hips. Ochaco’s door was ajar, light spilling out like an invitation. Or a trap.

 

He pushed it open.

 

Ochaco was naked. Spread out on her bed like a feast—knees bent, thighs splayed wide, one hand buried between her legs. Her pussy was soaked, fingers plunging in and out with wet, audible schlicks, clit swollen and pink under her thumb. The All Might poster watched from the wall, oblivious. Star stickers floated lazily above the headboard, caught in her idle Quirk.

 

“Deku-kun,” she purred, eyes locked on his. “Took you long enough. Did mom make you come again?”

 

He dropped the towel. His cock sprang free, rock-hard again, pre-cum beading at the tip. “O-Ochaco…”

 

“Shut up and fuck me.” She yanked her fingers free, strings of arousal connecting them to her dripping hole, and spread herself wider. “Now.”

 

Izuku lunged. He grabbed her ankles, hauled her to the edge of the bed, and slammed home in one brutal thrust. Ochaco’s back arched, a scream tearing from her throat—half-pain, half-ecstasy—as his thick length stretched her to the limit. She was tighter than her mother, hotter, walls fluttering around him like she was made for this.

 

“YES! FUUUUUCK! DEKU, HARDERRRRR!” Her nails clawed his shoulders, drawing blood. He obliged, hips snapping like pistons, balls slapping her ass with every punishing drive. The bed shook; her floating stars spun wildly overhead.

 

He hooked her legs over his shoulders, folding her in half, and pounded. The angle hit deep, stretching her womb around his dick, grinding her G-spot. Ochaco’s eyes rolled back, drool slipping from her open mouth.

 

“HMMMMMMMN, YEAAAH…! YOU LIKE FUCKING MY MOM, DEKU!?” she asked, “THEN BREED ME LIKE YOU DID HER!!! MAKE ME A MOM TOO!!!” she screamed, half mad with ecstasy.

 

The lube bottle hit the floor, practically all but forgotten. He didn’t need it, not with how slick she was, creaming around his cock, white froth coating his shaft. Izuku leaned down, captured her mouth in a sloppy kiss, tongues tangling, teeth clashing. He swallowed her moans, tasted her desperation.

 

“Mine,” he growled, surprising himself. “Both of you.”

 

Ochaco’s Quirk flared—her fingers dug into his ass, pulling him deeper, floating his balls up to slap her ass. The sensation shattered him. “Fuck… Ochaco…!”

 

“Cum inside!” she wailed, cunt convulsing, squirting around him in hot gushes that soaked the sheets. Izuku roared, hips stuttering as he erupted, rope after thick rope painting her womb white, overflowing, dripping down off his huge balls.

 

They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, his cock still twitching inside her, plugging the mess. Ochaco panted, nuzzling his neck. “Good boy. Mom’s gonna want round two later.”

 

A soft knock at the door. Yūka peeked in, dressed again in an unbuttoned blouse, smirking. “Room for one more?”

 

Ochaco grinned, clenching around Izuku deliberately. “Always, Mom. Deku-kun’s got plenty left.”

 

Izuku groaned, already hardening again. The stars above twinkled like witnesses to the Uraraka family tradition, gravity be damned.

 

Yūka crossed the room in three strides, blouse falling away, settling to the floor silently. Her pussy was still swollen, glistening with Izuku’s earlier load, a slow trickle of cum sliding down her thigh.

 

“Move over, baby,” she told Ochaco, voice husky. “Mommy needs her cock back.”

 

Ochaco giggled, breathless, and floated. Her Quirk flared—body lifting off the bed, legs still wrapped around Izuku’s waist. She hovered, suspended, pussy still gripping his half-hard cock like a vice. Izuku’s hands flew to her hips to steady her, eyes wide.

 

Yūka climbed onto the mattress behind him. “On your knees, hero.”

 

He obeyed, dazed. Ochaco’s weightless form let him maneuver her easily, he flipped her mid-air, impaling her again from behind. She moaned, face pressed to the pillow, ass up, floating just enough to give him leverage. He slammed in, balls-deep, the wet squelch obscene.

 

Yūka straddled his back, facing Ochaco. She reached down, spread her daughter’s cheeks, and spat—a thick glob landing right on Ochaco’s tight, puckered hole. “Hold still, baby.”

 

Ochaco whimpered, pushing back. “Mom…?”

 

Yūka’s fingers, two, then three, pushed into Ochaco’s ass, scissoring, stretching. Izuku felt it through the thin wall separating them: the pressure, the flutter, Ochaco’s cunt clamping down harder. He groaned, hips stuttering.

 

“Fuck, she’s so tight…!”

 

“Language, Deku-kun,” Ochaco teased, voice muffled by the pillow. Then Yūka replaced her fingers with something thicker—her tongue. Lapping at Ochaco’s rim, pushing inside, tasting her own fluids mixed with Izuku’s.

 

Ochaco screamed, Quirk flaring wildly. The floating stars spun like a hurricane. Izuku’s thrusts turned brutal, fast, deep, relentless. Ochaco floated higher, legs spread wide, taking every inch of his cock as he fucked her airborne.

 

The room was a cacophony: wet slaps, muffled moans, the creak of the bed. Ochaco came first, hard, gushing over Izuku’s balls, thighs trembling. “Deku, Mom, I’m…!”

 

Izuku’s control snapped. He yanked out of Ochaco, spun her mid-air, and shoved back in—face-to-face now, her legs around his waist. Yūka pulled away and knelt behind Ochaco, her tongue flicking Izuku’s balls, then up to Ochaco’s stretched hole, then into her ass alongside his cock.

 

Ochaco’s eyes rolled back, drooling. “AHHHHHN CUUUUMMMING!!! CUMMING CUMMING CUMMING, I’M CUUUUUMMMING!!!!”

 

Izuku roared. His balls swelled, filling again, and he came, flooding her again, pulse after pulse, cum forcing its way out around his shaft, blasting Ochaco’s womb and painting it white.

 

They then collapsed in a heap, Ochaco sandwiched between them, Izuku’s cock still buried in her. They only parted a few moments later so their bodies could finally cool off. Yūka’s tongue traced lazy circles on Ochaco’s clit when she moved to inspect her daughter’s gaping pussy.

 

Yūka then kissed Ochaco’s temple, followed by Izuku’s. “Family bonding,” she murmured. “Uraraka style.” Ochaco giggled, moving to hug Izuku’s spent frame. “Round three in the shower?”

 

Izuku could only nod, already hardening again. The All Might poster smiled down, approving.

 

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(Story by User: SailorIo)