Perfect Wittle Deku-Bae

(Note: This story is part of an ongoing series of My Hero Academia stories)
Previous Story (Chapter 60): [LINK]
Beginning (Chapter 01): [LINK]
Next Story (Chapter 62): To Be Continued….

---

Izuku stepped into the cool, perfumed air of the Seibu department store in Shibuya, eight gift bags already weighing down his mind before he’d even bought a single thing. He’d committed himself to doing this, though that didn’t make it any easier. He’d finally gotten around to fully reading the rom-com Manga that Momo based this whole harem idea around. Which gave him the idea for this little shopping trip. Though getting the gifts for his girls was going to be a lot more difficult than it had been for the protagonist of that series. He kept listing it over and over in his brain:

 

– Momo: something elegant but not flashy (she already owns half the luxury brands in Japan).
– Ochaco: cute, practical, and a little mochi-themed.
– Tsu: something that feels like a pond at night.
– Setsuna: bold, maybe detachable…
– Toru: invisible-friendly fabric or glowing accents.
– Rie: anything that screams “I’m more than my chest measurement.”
– Kaina: …????
– Ibara: easy, at least.

 

He started on the top floor and worked his way down.

 

Religious Goods – 7F
A leather-bound Bible caught his eye immediately: deep forest-green morocco leather, gold tooling, ribbon markers, and a parallel Latin Vulgate column. The clerk called it a “museum-grade facsimile of a 13th-century manuscript.” Izuku barely glanced at the price tag.
“For Ibara,” he mumbled, cheeks pink. Sold. One down.

 

Lingerie – 4F
Setsuna had cornered him last week: “Buy me something you wanna rip off me with your teeth, Dekun~” His ears could still feel her hot breath from the way she’d said that.

 

Tsuyu had simply croaked, “I’d like to wear what you like, kero. Surprise me.”

 

He walked the aisles like a man on a covert mission. For Setsuna: emerald-green, strappy, with detachable garter belts (perfect for her Quirk). For Tsuyu: soft black lace with frog closures at the hips and a little lily-pad embroidery on the panties. The clerk rang them up without batting an eye. Izuku’s ears burned, but he didn’t spontaneously combust. Progress.

 

Accessories – 3F
Ochaco: a limited-edition round mochi-shaped purse with a tiny Uravity logo charm.
Toru: a set of phosphorescent body chains that would glow when she went invisible (she’d squealed about wanting some last movie night).
Rie: a delicate silver necklace with a tiny bomb pendant (she’d love the irony).

 

But he was still stuck on Kaina and Momo.

 

He was standing in the middle of the perfume hall, staring blindly at a wall of bottles and wondering if Lady Nagant even wore scent, when he walked straight into someone.

 

“Oop, oiy, watch it, boi… Oh! Deku-bae!” A syrupy voice snapped, though the tone was more annoyed than angry.

 

Izuku looked up and felt his brain short-circuit.

 

Camie Utsushimi stood there in an off-shoulder crop top, her Shiketsu cap, and ripped jeans, bags dangling from both wrists, trademark lazy smirk in place. “C-Camie! Sorry, I was…” he stammered in apology.

 

“Lost in girlfriend-present hell?” the caramel blonde finished for him after looking him over, eyes locking in on the bags he had with him. Given her proclivities, she likely knew every single store each bag had come from. She flicked his forehead, “Figures. You’ve got that overthinking wrinkle right between the brows again, Deku-bae.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing purr. “Need a pro shopper, or are you just gonna keep circling the perfume like a lost puppy?”

 

Izuku let out a long, defeated sigh, shoulders slumping. “…Was it that obvious?”

 

Camie snorted, flicking one of his curls. “Deku-bae, you had the exact same face you make when you’re muttering battle plans at 3 A.M. Except this time it was over perfume. So yeah, you got a neon sign, flashing kanji: ‘Harem Boyfriend in Gift Crisis.’ Totally right on you.”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “Momo lent me the manga she based this whole… Arrangement on. There was this arc where the protagonist surprised everyone with perfect presents, and I thought… Maybe I could do that too. Make them feel special the way the story did for her.”

 

Camie’s eyes sparkled. “Awww, you absolute goober! That’s actually cute as hell.” She leaned in, propping her chin on her hand. “So, which girlfriend’s got you stuck, lover boy?”

 

Izuku glanced around to make sure no one was close, then lowered his voice. “Kaina. Uh, I mean Lady Nagant.” he told her, guessing she might not know her civilian name.

 

Camie tapped her lower lip with two fingers, eyes narrowing in thought. “Kai-bae… Yeah, that’s a toughie.” She shook her head firmly, “But I can tell you right now: Perfume is the last thing she’d want. Same with Momo-bae. She literally creates any scent she wants whenever she wants. Buying either of them a bottle is like buying All Might a protein shake. Cute, but kinda pointless.”

 

Izuku’s shoulders sagged in relief. “That… actually helps a lot.”

 

Camie set her own shopping bags down and started rifling through the ones dangling from his arms like a professional inspector.

 

– Emerald strappy set → “Oho, Set-bae’s gonna detach limbs just to tease you longer in this.”
– Black frog-closure lingerie → “Perfect for Tsu-bae, ribbit-approved.”
– Glowing body chains → “Toru-bae’s gonna sparkle like a disco ball in the dark. Nice.”
– Mochi purse → “Ocha-bae’s gonna cry happy tears, guaranteed.”
– Bomb pendant → “Rie-bae’s gonna wear it proudly and dare anyone to comment.”
– Latin Bible → “Ibara’s gonna faint, then quote scripture at you for like a week.”

 

She gave an approving nod at the end. “And that’s six outta eight. Not bad for a stressed-out goober, Deku-bae. Now we just gotta nail the last two.” She cracked her knuckles dramatically. “Operation: Make the sniper lady and the heiress swoon. Let’s go.” she said, grabbing her bags again before taking him by the hand and leading him out of the perfume department.

 

Camie led him toward the escalators, hips swaying like she owned the place, weaving through perfume counters without slowing.

 

“Sooo, Deku-bae,” she drawled, glancing sideways, “Eight girls, eh? Like, how do you even keep up? I mean like, stamina-wise? Calendar-wise? I need the tea.”

 

Izuku’s face went scarlet, but he laughed under his breath, “I… Don’t. Not all at once, anyway. Haven’t quite managed that yet.” He scratched his cheek. “It’s mostly scheduling. Everyone’s got hero work, Busteez shifts, agency internships, family stuff… You name it. We just take the windows we get. Momo keeps this giant shared calendar color-coded like a military operation.”

 

Camie barked a laugh, “Of course she does!”

 

“So some weeks I see Ochaco three nights in a row because her patrol route lines up, and other weeks it’s just whoever’s free for dinner and a movie. It’s… Balanced, I guess?” He shrugged, a little sheepish. “Which is why Kaina’s the hardest. She’s still on probation monitoring, plus her parole officer schedules are random, and she picks up long-range support gigs whenever they call. I think I’ve only had three actual nights with her since everything started.”

 

He looked down at the gift bags in his hands. “That’s why I’m overthinking it so much. I barely know what she likes outside of ‘coffee, cigarettes, and not being in prison.’ I want whatever I give her to feel… Personal, you know?”

 

Camie’s teasing grin softened into something almost gentle. “Yeah. I get it, Deku-bae.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna find something that says ‘I see you, sniper lady.’ Promise.”

 

Izuku’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Camie. This kinda reminds me of that ‘practice date’ you dragged me on… You know? Before I finally took Momo on a real date and not some hook-up at the agency.”

 

Camie barked a laugh, loud enough that a nearby clerk glanced over. “Pfft, that was literally like, last century, Deku-bae. Ancient history.” But the tips of her ears went pink, and she quickly turned away to hide it, grabbing his wrist to tug him toward the escalator. “C’mon, lover boy, stationery department, trust me.”

 

Izuku let her pull him along, still smiling at the faint blush he’d definitely seen.

 

Stationery was quiet, soft piano covers playing overhead. Camie made a beeline for the journals, scanning shelves until she plucked one free with a triumphant “Aha!”

 

It had a matte hardcover in a gradient of rose-pink fading into deep violet (exact match for Kaina’s hair), simple silver foil constellation pattern across the front, thick cream pages, and a ribbon bookmark. Understated, elegant, a little dangerous-looking in its subtlety. Then Camie snatched a novelty ballpoint off a spinner: chrome, shaped like a 20 mm anti-tank rifle round, complete with fake etched markings and a tiny sniper-scope charm dangling from the clip.

 

She slapped both into Izuku’s hands like she’d just handed him the Holy Grail.

 

“Boom! Personal, practical, and screams ‘I pay attention to the scary sniper lady.’ She can write whatever she wants in it: Mission logs, grocery lists, secret poetry about how cute you are… And every time she clicks that pen she’ll think of you.”

 

Izuku stared at the set, then at Camie, eyes suspiciously bright. “…You’re a genius.”

 

Camie flipped her hair, cheeks still faintly pink. “Duh. Now you only owe me. Like, one lifetime supply of melon soda and maybe one thank-you blowjob. I accept tips in hugs too, Deku-bae.” She winked. “Let’s go fix Momo-bae next.”

 

Camie tapped her chin, eyes narrowed in thought. “Momo-bae… I’ve only chatted with her a couple times at Busteez. Girl’s scary-smart and scary-nice. But yeah, I get why your brain’s short-circuiting. What do you buy the chick who can literally spawn a Lamborghini from her thigh fat if she feels like it?”

 

Izuku gave a tiny, sheepish laugh. “Actually, she can’t make anything organic. Living tissue, plants, food, stuff like that is off-limits. But yeah, flowers or a potted plant feels… wrong. It would be like giving All Might a poster of himself.”

 

Camie’s eyes lit up like she’d just cracked a safe. “Organic… once-living… I got it.” She snapped her fingers and grabbed his sleeve again. “Leather goods, fourth floor. Move it, Deku-bae!”

 

The escalator ride was quick. The moment they stepped into the hushed, wood-paneled leather section, Camie made a beeline for the display cases. She stopped in front of a small, locked glass shelf that held limited-edition and custom items.

 

She selected a simple leather money clip with a magnetic clasp and told the Leathersmith to brand it with Creati’s logo and Izuku’s name, followed by the Initials of the names of each girl in his harem. The man behind the counter seemed confused at what to him must’ve seemed like a bunch of random letters for the last bit. Camie also told him to make sure there was room left for more initials to be added later.

 

While the man prepared the clip, Camie explained. “Real leather = once-living, can’t be created with her Quirk. Handmade and unique. Classy as hell, since wallets and purses aren’t really Momo-bae’s scene. Plus, every time she opens it she’ll smell that rich leather scent and think of you.”

 

Izuku’s jaw actually dropped. “Camie… that’s perfect.”

 

She flashed a victory sign, cheeks pink again from his obvious gratitude. “Told ya. Pro shopper, at your service!”

 

Izuku handed over his card after the leathersmith was finished, then carefully added the elegant navy bag to the growing collection dangling from his arms. He stared at the pile for a second, brow furrowing. “…The price gap’s kinda insane,” he muttered. “The Bible and the leather set were crazy expensive, but the lingerie and Toru’s body chains were…”

 

Camie cut him off with a gentle poke to his forehead. “Deku-bae, stop.”

 

She leaned in, voice low and serious. “In this case? Cost really doesn’t mean jack. You didn’t buy eight identical necklaces and call it a day. You walked through this whole store obsessing over them, what makes Iba-bae light up, what makes Tsu-bae feel sexy, what Rie-bae would actually wear without rolling her eyes, what Kai-bae would hold when she’s alone and thinking no one’s watching. Every single gift screams ‘I see you.’”

 

She flicked one of the bags lightly. “That’s the part money can’t buy. You’re not treating them like eight convenient sleeves for that monster between your legs. You’re treating them like eight different people you’re stupidly in love with. That’s what they’re gonna feel when they open these. Annnnd, the fact that you only needed help with two says a lot about how much you care.”

 

Izuku’s ears went scarlet, but the worry melted off his face. He exhaled, shoulders relaxing for the first time all day.

 

“…Thanks, Camie.” he told her.

 

She flashed a lazy peace sign, already turning toward the exit. “Anytime, lover boy. Now come on. Melon soda’s on you. Your shopping wing-girl deserves payment.”

 

They stopped at the basement food court. Izuku came back with a frosted glass bottle of Ramune melon soda and handed it over. Camie took it with a smug little “Tch, service with a smile, huh?” and popped the marble with practiced-perfect movement. She was mid-sip, eyes half-lidded in victory, when Izuku spoke.

 

“Hey, Camie… Can I take you out to dinner? Like, a proper one?” he asked.

 

The soda went down the wrong pipe.

 

Camie coughed, eyes watering, thumping her chest. “Pfft, wait, are you, like, serious right now, Deku-bae?”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink but gaze steady. “A 300-yen soda doesn’t feel like enough. Not after today… And definitely not after that practice date you saved me with back then. So yeah. Dinner. My treat. Wherever you want.”

 

Camie stared at him for three full seconds, with the bottle still hovering near her lips. Then the smirk crawled back, twice as wicked. “Adding another girl to the roster already? I didn’t think you were so horny.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a purr. “But fine. I’ve always wanted to see how the great Deku plans a real date when he’s not being dragged by the nose.”

 

She clinked the Ramune bottle against one of his gift bags like a toast.

 

“You’re on, hero. Pick me up Friday, at seven sharp. Don’t be late, or I’ll make you regret it~”

 

Izuku’s smile was small, relieved, and devastatingly soft. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

---

 

Friday, 18:58.

 

Izuku stood outside Camie’s apartment building in dark jeans and a simple forest-green jacket, hair still a little windswept from the train ride over. Right on the dot, the door swung open.

 

Camie stepped out in full casual-sexy glory: low-rise ripped jeans that hugged her hips, a cropped black hoodie sliding off one shoulder, and her signature Shiketsu beret tilted at a perfect rakish angle. A thin silver belly chain glinted whenever she moved. She looked effortlessly like trouble.

 

Her gaze immediately dropped to the sleek watch-style band on his wrist.

 

“Ooooh, Quickband in the wild. Jealous.” She poked it with one manicured finger. “I so need to get me one of those! They’re like, mad convenient aren’t they?”

 

Izuku opened his mouth, but she waved him off. “Already on the two-year waiting list, babe. I’ll survive.”

 

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… Where to?”

 

Camie’s grin turned devilish. “There’s this Indian place in Sapporo (tiny hole-in-the-wall) that has the best butter chicken on the planet. The one in Tokyo’s great, but it’s not even close.”

 

Izuku’s eyes lit up. “Sapporo?” he asked, looking to the north.

 

“Bullet train’s like three hours, though, and…” She didn’t even finish the sentence.

 

Izuku stepped forward, scooped her up in a smooth princess carry (one arm under her knees, the other behind her back). Camie let out a startled squeak that turned into delighted laughter.

 

Blackwhip unfurled from his palms, weaving a shimmering cocoon around her body, shielding her from wind and cold. One for All sparked green at his calves.

 

“Hang on.” he warned.

 

And then they launched.

 

The Tokyo skyline blurred beneath them. “WAAAAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHHA!!” Camie’s shocked scream dissolved into wild, exhilarated laughter, arms looping around his neck, beret somehow staying perfectly in place.

 

“YOU ABSOLUTE MADMAN!! WE’RE GOING TO HOKKAIDO?!” she asked, her voice barely audible over the wind.

 

Izuku just grinned, eyes glowing emerald in the night sky as he kicked at the air, propelling them forward while Float prevented them from falling back to the ground. “You said it was the best.”

 

Camie’s giggling laughter echoed along with her playful, “WOOOOOOOO!!!”

 

---

 

The little Sapporo curry shop was warm and fragrant, all chipped wooden tables and Bollywood posters curling at the edges. Their plates sat mostly empty: Camie’s extra-spicy vindaloo reduced to a few defiant red pools, Izuku’s mild butter chicken polished off down to the last piece of naan.

 

Camie leaned back in her chair, arms crossed under her chest, Shiketsu beret still somehow perfectly angled. She was still giggling, eyes watery from either the spice or the story Izuku had just finished.

 

“So let me get this straight,” she wheezed, wiping a tear. “You woke up one morning and suddenly Lady Nagant was just… Part of the roster? No vote, no memo, just ‘welcome to the polycule, here’s your key’?”

 

Izuku groaned, hiding his face behind his mango lassi. “Pretty much. Momo updated the shared calendar and everything. There was a little sniper-rifle emoji next to her name.”

 

Camie cackled loud enough that the old man at the counter glanced over fondly. “You’re literally being reverse-harem’d against your will. That’s hilarious.”

 

“It’s not against my will,” he protested, cheeks pink. “It’s just… A lot.”

 

“A lot of milking,” Camie corrected, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “Eight girls, monster dick, zero refractory period. I’m surprised you’re not walking around permanently dehydrated like some kind of mummy.”

 

Izuku choked on his lassi.

 

She kept going, counting on her fingers. “Ochaco’s got that zero-G grip, Tsu’s tongue probably hits prostate from the front, Setsuna can literally detach parts for surround sound,”

 

“Camie!”

 

“And now you’ve got a former assassin who can probably edge you from three rooftops away with a spotter scope.” She fanned herself dramatically. “Poor Deku-bae. Just trying to live while everyone’s fighting over who gets to drain you next.”

 

He dropped his forehead to the table with a soft thunk. “I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

 

“Liar.” She reached over and ruffled his curls. “You love it. And we both know if I decided to join the line-up, you’d trip over your own tongue saying yes.”

 

Izuku peeked up at her, face scarlet but eyes soft. “…Uhh.” he muttered.

 

Camie’s smirk melted into something warmer. She nudged his foot under the table. “Relax, hero. Tonight I’m off the clock. Just enjoy your spicy curry victory lap.” She raised her glass of lassi in a lazy toast. “To the luckiest, most milked boy in Japan.”

 

He clinked his glass against hers, laughing despite himself. “To the girl who helped me find the courage to date the first one.”

 

They drank, grinning over the wreckage of their plates, the cold Hokkaido summer night pressing against the windows while the heat between them stayed perfectly warm.

 

The waiter cleared their plates and slid over a single massive kulfi falooda to share: rose-and-pistachio ice cream piled high with vermicelli, basil seeds, and a drizzle of sweet syrup, two long spoons stuck in like flags claiming territory.

 

Camie scooped a spoonful and pointed it at him accusingly. “Start talking, Deku-bae. I want the director’s commentary on all eight leading ladies.”

 

Izuku laughed, cheeks pink, and took a bite before he began.

 

“Momo lights up when someone notices the tiny details in her plans. Ochaco gets the softest smile when you remember she likes saving money as much as saving people. Tsu does this little tongue-curl thing when she’s really happy, like a cat’s slow blink. Setsuna pretends she’s too cool for everything, but if you compliment her ideas she practically glows. Toru’s giggles go supersonic when she thinks no one can see her blushing. Rie acts tough, but hand her anything that says ‘I see you, not your chest’ and she melts. Kaina… She doesn’t smile a lot yet, but when she does it’s small and crooked and feels like winning the lottery. And Ibara, ” He paused, soft. “Ibara gets this quiet, peaceful look, like she’s praying and the answer just walked in the room.”

 

Camie had stopped eating somewhere around “tongue-curl thing.” She rested her chin in her hand, spoon dangling, eyes suspiciously bright.

 

“…Damn,” she said quietly. “You really catalog every single one of them, don’t you?”

 

Izuku shrugged, feeling a little shy. “I just like seeing them smile. Real smiles. The kind that reaches their eyes.”

 

The air between them shifted, warm, thick, like the rose syrup pooling at the bottom of the bowl. Camie’s gaze lingered on his face, on the gentle curve of his mouth when he talked about the girls he loved, on the way his eyes went soft and fierce at the same time.

 

She poked her spoon into the kulfi, voice lower than before. “You know… Most guys with one girlfriend forget her birthday. You’ve got eight and you track micro-expressions like a support-gear analyst.” She then let out a tiny, wistful laugh. “Kinda unfair to the rest of the male population, Deku-bae. Some of us ladies are out here wishing we could find even one guy who looks at us like that.”

 

Izuku’s spoon stilled. The hum of the restaurant faded until it was just the two of them and the slow drip of melting ice cream.

 

He met her eyes, steady, earnest, a little flustered. “Camie…”

 

She waved it off with a quick, playful grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Relax, I’m not proposing.” Then softer, almost to herself, “Just saying… Whoever ends up number nine is gonna be stupid lucky.”

 

The kulfi sat forgotten for a moment, rose syrup bleeding pink across the bowl while the space between their hands on the table felt suddenly, electrically small.

 

---

 

They stepped out into the Sapporo night, the warm glow of the restaurant spilling behind them. Izuku blinked at the receipt in his hand, ‘Ridiculously cheap for how good it had been,’ but wisely kept that thought to himself.

 

A sharp breeze whipped down the street. Camie hugged her bare arms and gave an exaggerated shiver. “Bruh, you’d never guess it’s summer. Hokkaido does not play with the chill.”

 

Before she finished the sentence, Izuku’s arm slid around her shoulders, tugging her gently against his side. Camie startled for half a heartbeat, eyes widening, then relaxed when thin ribbons of Blackwhip unfurled from his palm. The tendrils wove themselves into a sleek, glowing jacket (matte black with faint emerald circuitry lines) that settled perfectly over her cropped hoodie, warm as fresh laundry.

 

“Gentleman level: expert,” she laughed, bumping him with her hip.

 

Izuku’s ears went pink. “Uh, sorry, I have to keep physical contact or the construct falls apart.”

 

Camie leaned in closer, tucking herself under his arm like she belonged there. “Never apologize for excellence, Deku-bae.”

 

They started walking, no real destination, just the quiet clack of her boots and the soft rustle of Blackwhip fibers. Streetlights painted gold across old brick buildings, and the faint scent of snow still lingered in the air even in summer.

 

Camie’s voice softened, “I used to spend every July here when I was little. Oba-chan would drag me to this tiny shrine up the hill, red torii gate half-covered in moss, fox statues with chipped noses. We’d buy the same strawberry kakigori from the same old man every single day. She’d tell me if I rang the bell hard enough, the kami would grant me one wish for the summer.” She smiled at the memory, breath fogging slightly, “I always wished for the same thing: that next year would be just as good.”

 

Izuku’s arm tightened around her, just a fraction. “Did it work?”

 

She glanced up at him, eyes catching the green glow of the Blackwhip jacket. “So far? Yeah. Pretty damn well.”

 

Izuku’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted it: the narrow stone path, the moss-covered red torii half-hidden by trees, the pair of weathered fox statues with their chipped noses. Exactly how she’d described.

 

He steered them up the steps without a word. At the little wooden stall, the same old vendor (white hair, same faded blue happi coat) looked up from his ice shaver and broke into a gap-toothed grin.

 

“Camie-chan! You came back!”

 

She laughed, eyes shining. “I’m amazed you recognize me, ojii-chan.” she said.

 

“Hard to forget such a cute little lady’s cheerful energy. I see you’ve found yourself a fine boyfriend!” the man replied. Camie snickered and leaned into Izuku, glancing up at him with an expression that read, ‘Do NOT correct him!’

 

Two minutes later she was holding a paper cup of strawberry kakigōri, exactly the same neon-red syrup, exactly the same mountain of shaved ice. Izuku paid before she could protest, earning a playful elbow to the ribs.

 

They climbed the last steps to the offering box. Camie took a reluctant breath, then stepped away from Izuku’s warmth. The Blackwhip jacket dissolved into fading ribbons of green light, leaving her in just her cropped hoodie again. She dropped a few coins into the box, clapped twice, bowed, and reached for the thick rope.

 

The bell gave a deep, resonant CLANG that echoed through the summer night.

 

Izuku leaned against a stone lantern, arms folded, watching her with that soft, steady smile. “Same wish as always?” he asked her.

 

Camie turned, kakigōri in one hand, and gave him a slow, cat-like grin.

 

“Gnope!” she singsonged.

 

She closed the distance in three quick steps, looped her arms around his neck, and kissed him!

 

No hesitation, no teasing lead-in, just heat and certainty. Her lips were cold from the shaved ice and tasted like strawberry and summer. Izuku’s hands found her waist instantly, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her back, soft at first, then deeper when she made a small, happy sound in the back of her throat.

 

The bell’s last echo faded somewhere above the treetops, and all that was left was the two of them under the shrine lanterns, strawberry syrup sweet on their tongues and the night suddenly feeling a lot warmer than Hokkaido had any right to be.

 

Camie didn’t pull away far. She let the kiss linger, slow and syrupy, then rested her forehead against his chest with a soft, contented hum.

 

“You smell good, Deku-bae,” she murmured, voice muffled against his shirt.

 

Izuku laughed under his breath, cheeks pink. “That’s just curry and airplane air, probably.”

 

“Shut up,” she said, arms tightening around his waist, deliberately pressing her chest flush against him. The soft weight of her breasts molded to his torso; even through hoodie and shirt he could feel the heat of her. “I like it.”

 

His breath hitched. One hand came up on instinct, fingers gently catching her chin, tilting her face back to his. The shrine lanterns painted gold across her eyes as he leaned in and kissed her again (deeper this time, deliberate, tasting strawberry and want). Camie melted into it, a tiny, needy sound escaping the back of her throat.

 

When they finally broke apart, foreheads still touching, her voice was a husky whisper against his lips.

 

“Fair warning: I am currently wetter than an Amazonian swamp in monsoon season. We need a love hotel. Like… Five minutes ago!”

 

Izuku’s ears went scarlet, but his grip on her waist didn’t falter.

 

“Roger that,” he rasped, already scanning the street for the telltale neon hearts. “Blackwhip express?”

 

Camie grinned, wicked and breathless, “Only if you promise to wreck me the second the door closes.”

 

“Deal.”

 

---

 

The door to the love hotel room slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall. Izuku and Camie stumbled inside, mouths fused, hands already clawing at clothes. Neon pink light bled through the curtains, painting their skin in electric hues as they devoured each other.

 

Camie broke the kiss just long enough to gasp against his lips, “Rip it, rip my top off, Deku-bae, now!”

 

Izuku’s hands moved before his brain caught up. Green sparks crackled at his fingertips; he seized the hem of her cropped hoodie and tore. Fabric shredded with a sharp RRRIP, splitting straight up the front, exposing her bare breasts (full, flushed, nipples already hard). Camie moaned, loud and shameless, and shoved her chest into his waiting palms.

 

“Fuck yes,” she hissed, back arching as his hands closed over her tits, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. Her own fingers were already at his belt (blind, practiced, frantic). The buckle clattered open; zipper rasped down. She yanked his pants and boxer-briefs in one rough pull, letting his massive cock spring free, thick and heavy, already leaking.

 

Camie dropped to her knees for half a second, mouth watering at the sight, then surged back up, slamming her body against his. Her bare tits crushed against his chest, nipples dragging across his shirt as she claimed his mouth again (hungry, bruising, teeth nipping his lower lip).

 

Izuku growled into the kiss, one hand fisting in her hair, the other palming her ass hard enough to lift her onto her toes. Their tongues tangled, messy and desperate. Camie rolled her hips, grinding her soaked jeans against his bare cock, smearing wetness over his length.

 

“Need you inside me,” she panted between kisses, voice raw. “Right fucking now.”

 

Izuku answered by spinning her, slamming her back against the nearest wall, and tearing at the button of her jeans with the same violence she’d begged for. The room filled with the sounds of ripping fabric, ragged breathing, and the wet, electric promise of what came next.

 

Camie’s Quirk shimmered across the room like a heat haze. In the space of a heartbeat, cheap neon walls dissolved into swaying palm trees, the ceiling vanished into a star-drenched sky, and the bed became a low, wide platform draped in white linen. A warm ocean breeze (impossible, perfect) ruffled the curtains that were no longer there. Somewhere behind them, water crashed down a distant cliff into a moonlit lagoon.

 

Izuku blinked once, then laughed under his breath. “Busteez special effects package. Should’ve known.”

 

“Shut up and enjoy the view, hero,” Camie shot back, voice thick with lust.

 

She hooked her thumbs into her waistband and peeled the ripped jeans down her hips, kicking them aside. The tiny thong followed, flicked away with a toe. All that remained was her tilted Shiketsu beret and miles of smooth, golden skin.

 

She turned, presenting her back to him, and brought one hand down hard on her own ass.

 

PLAP!

 

The sharp crack echoed through the illusionary paradise, her flesh rippling in perfect waves.

 

PLAP!

 

A second spank, harder, leaving a faint pink handprint on the round, jiggling curve.

 

Camie glanced over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, “Come and wreck this island, Deku-bae.”

 

Izuku stepped in close, the heat of his body pressing flush against her back. His cock (thick, impossibly long, and already slick with precum) slid between the plush globes of Camie’s ass like it was made to fit there. The shaft dwarfed the valley of her cheeks, the swollen head jutting far past her tailbone, the base nestled snug against her dripping pussy.

 

He rocked forward slowly, sawing that monstrous length back and forth, the friction hot and slick from her own wetness and the lingering traces of torn clothing. Camie’s breath caught, then spilled out in a low, filthy moan as the underside of his cock dragged over her lower back with every thrust.

 

Izuku folded himself over her, chest to her spine, arms snaking around to claim her heavy breasts. His palms barely contained them, fingers sinking into soft, warm flesh, thumbs flicking over stiff nipples. He squeezed hard, kneading in time with the slow glide of his hips.

 

“Fuuuck, Deku-bae…” Camie’s voice cracked, head falling forward, beret tilting rakishly. She pushed her ass back greedily, grinding against his length, smearing wetness along his shaft and up her spine. “So big… Feels like you’re splitting me just from the outside.”

 

He dipped his head, teeth grazing the shell of her ear, then nibbling gently along the edge. A shiver rolled through her entire body; her nipples tightened even harder in his hands.

 

Minutes blurred into a haze of heat and friction: slow, deliberate thrusts between her cheeks, palms kneading her tits, teeth and tongue teasing her ear until she was trembling, breath coming in desperate little pants.

 

Finally Camie broke.

 

“Pick a hole and fuck it,” she gasped, voice raw and wrecked. “I can’t wait anymore, I need you inside me right fucking now!”

 

Izuku drew his hips back, the fat head of his cock catching on Camie’s tight ring before he snapped forward.

 

One brutal thrust and he buried himself to the hilt in her asshole!

 

“FUUUUUUUUCK! YESSSSS!” Camie’s scream cracked the night, her whole body seizing as the stretch alone hurled her into orgasm. Her walls clamped down around him, spasming wildly, pussy gushing untouched onto the illusionary sand.

 

Izuku groaned at the sight of his cock tenting her belly: an obscene, moving ridge that started just above her navel and surged upward with every inch he fed her, the outline thick and unmistakable. Camie’s hands flew to the bulge, tracing it with shaking fingers as her eyes rolled back.

 

“DON’T STOP! CHURN MY FUCKING GUTS, DEKU-BAE!”

 

He didn’t stop. His grip tightened on her hips and he started pounding, hips slamming forward with One For All-fueled force, balls slapping her dripping pussy with wet thwacks. The tent in her belly jerked violently with every thrust, rising and falling like a piston.

 

“HARDER! FUCK MY ASS RAW!” she howled, voice breaking into raw, desperate screams.

 

Izuku snarled, hooked his arms under her thighs, and lifted. Camie’s feet left the ground; he held her suspended in the air, impaled on his cock, and began jackhammering upward. Each thrust drove his full length home in one savage stroke, the bulge in her belly surging so high it nearly reached her sternum.

 

Camie’s pussy erupted in messy arcs, squirting hard with every brutal plunge, soaking his thighs and the illusionary beach below.

 

“YES! YES! YES! FUCK MY SHITHOLE! MAKE ME YOUR ANAL SLUT!” her screams echoed across the fake ocean as another orgasm tore through her, ass clenching so tight it almost hurt, dragging Izuku deeper into the filthy, perfect rhythm.

 

Izuku’s hips slammed upward in a relentless, punishing rhythm, each thrust driving his cock so deep, the bulge in Camie’s belly surged like a living thing. Green sparks of One For All crackled across his thighs, leaping to graze her swollen clit with every brutal stroke. The electric jolts sent her spiraling.

 

“FUCK! YES! KEEP GOING!” Camie screamed, voice raw and wrecked, head thrown back, beret somehow still clinging to her hair. “I LOVE IT! LOVE YOUR MONSTER COCK STIRRING MY GUTS UP! IT FEELS LIKE YOU’RE FUCKING MY WHOLE BODY!”

 

Her ass clenched around him, impossibly tight, milking his length as sparks danced over her clit again. Another orgasm crashed through her, pussy squirting in wild arcs that splattered everywhere.

 

“I’M CUMMING! CUMMING AGAIN! DON’T STOP, DEKU-BAAAAE!! WRECK MY ASSSSS!!!” she howled, nails digging into his forearms, body shaking uncontrollably. The bulge in her belly jerked higher with every thrust, her insides reshaped around him.

 

Izuku grunted with each slam, the sparks intensifying, snapping against her clit in perfect sync. “CUMMING AGAIN! FUCK, YOUR SPARKS, MY CLIT’S ON FIRE!” Camie wailed, another climax ripping through her, her screams echoing across the fake paradise as her pussy gushed harder, soaking them both.

 

“KEEP FUCKING ME! RUIN MY SHITHOLE! I’M YOUR ANAL WHOOOORE!” she begged, voice breaking into desperate, repeated cries of “CUMMING! CUMMING! I’M CUMMING!” with every earth-shattering thrust.

 

Izuku’s thighs burned as he finally lowered Camie to the wide, linen-draped bed, her knees sinking into the illusionary sand that shimmered beneath. She dropped to all fours instantly, back arched, ass high, beret still somehow clinging to her sweat-soaked hair.

 

He mounted her again, slamming home in one brutal thrust. Camie screamed, voice shredded raw.

 

“I’M STILL CUMMING! FUUUUCK, DON’T STOP!” she wailed.

 

Time dissolved into a haze of slapping flesh, wet squelching, and her endless, broken cries. The bulge in her belly pistoned wildly, rising and falling with every savage stroke. Sparks snapped across her clit, her pussy squirting in messy arcs that soaked the sheets and the fake beach beneath.

 

Izuku’s rhythm faltered; his balls drew tight, the pressure unbearable.

 

Camie felt it. “DO IT, BLAST MY ASS! FILL ME UP!” she roared, shoving herself back to meet him.

 

Izuku’s head snapped back. “Camie…!”

 

He came with a guttural groan, cock pulsing like a cannon. Gallons of thick, hot cum erupted into her depths, flooding her intestines in endless streams.

 

“YES! SO FULL! SO MUCH…” Her moan cracked into a deep, obscene belch as the pressure hit its limit. Another orgasm ripped through her, then another, her body shaking violently, ass clenching around him in desperate spasms as she puked up wave after wave of his seed.

 

“CUMMING, CUMMING, CUMMMMMMMMMINGH!!!” she wailed, voice hoarse, eyes rolled back in pure, wrecked ecstasy.

 

Izuku held her hips through it all, riding the aftershocks, sparks still dancing across her clit as he pulled out with a wet sucking SCHLOOORP! Cum poured from both ends in a filthy, perfect storm as she lay twitching on the bed.

 

The illusion around them dissolved with a soft shimmer, palm trees and starlit lagoon melting back into cheap love-hotel wallpaper and neon glow. The bed beneath them was a battlefield: sheets soaked, pillows scattered, the air thick with the raw musky scent of sex.

 

Camie reached up, tugged the beret off her damp hair, and plopped it onto Izuku’s head. It sat comically small, tilted over his curls like a child playing dress-up.

 

She giggled, soft and tired, “It looks good on you, hero.”

 

Izuku smiled, cheeks flushed, and pulled her on top of him. Her body settled over his, warm and heavy and perfect. He cupped her face and kissed her, slow, gentle, tasting strawberry and something that was just them.

 

Camie let out a quiet, content little moan, more sigh than sound, and melted against his chest.

 

“Stay the whole night?” she murmured into his neck.

 

“Try and stop me,” he whispered back.

 

She smiled against his skin, fingers tracing lazy circles over his heart, the too-small beret still perched on his head like a promise neither of them had said out loud yet.

 

Camie then propped her chin on his chest, tracing lazy circles through the sweat still cooling on his skin. “So,” she murmurs, voice low and lazy, “Is making girls cum like a busted fire hydrant part of the standard Deku-bae package, or did I just win the jackpot?”

 

Izuku’s ears went scarlet.

 

Camie snorts, then full-on giggles. “Relax, I was kidding.”

 

She pushed up on one elbow, hair tumbling over her shoulder, and let her fingers drift lower. They wrapped gently around his half-hard cock (still ridiculous even at rest) and stroked idly, like she’s petting a very large, very satisfied cat.

 

“So,” she said, smiling slowly and crooked, “Does joining this harem require, like, a formal interview with the others? Background check? Dental plan? Matching robes?”

 

Izuku blinked, mouth opening, closing, opening again. “…I, uh, there’s a shared calendar? And Momo makes really good coffee…?”

 

Camie leans in and kisses the tip of his nose, soft and sweet.

 

“Relax, goober. Even if it doesn’t, count me in anyway.”

 

She settled back down against his chest, fingers still loosely curled around him, the too-small beret still perched crookedly on his curls. The neon outside hums, the soaked bed creaks beneath them, and for once neither of them feels the need to say anything else.

 

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(Story by User: SailorIo)