The house party thumped with bass-heavy music, the kind that vibrated through the walls and floors of the abandoned rental on the city's edge, someone's idea of a "Christmas break blowout" after the Provisional License Exam. Lights were low, red and blue strobes cutting through the haze of cheap smoke machines, bodies pressed together in the living room, laughter and shouts mingling with the beat.
Takumi leaned against the kitchen counter, nursing a soda, his UA uniform swapped for a black hoodie and jeans, blending into the shadows as always.
Kendo Itsuka approached him through the crowd, her orange ponytail swaying, her expression tight with worry. She was in a simple red sweater and jeans, but her posture was rigid, hands clenched at her sides. "Hayase," she said, voice low but firm, "we need to talk. Private."
Takumi raised an eyebrow, following her down the hallway to a quiet bedroom, the music muffled through the closed door. She locked it behind them, turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest. "I know," she said bluntly.
He shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Know what?"
Kendo's eyes narrowed. "I know you slept with Kodai."
Takumi blinked, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected Yui to tell anyone. "Camie?"
Kendo nodded. "She and Kodai were talking. I overheard. And... I don't like it."
Takumi's lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. "Problem?"
"Not particularly," Kendo admitted, her voice steady but edged with protectiveness. "But I don't want her feelings dragged through the mud. Kodai's quiet, kind. She doesn't open up to just anyone. I don't want her with some guy who sees her as disposable."
Takumi tilted his head. "We're not in a relationship."
Kendo's eyes flashed. "That might be the problem."
He stepped closer, voice calm but laced with challenge. "As long as she enjoys it, we probably won't stop."
Kendo looked flabbergasted, her cheeks flushing with indignation. "You... you're brazen. If you're only seeing her as some meatbag..."
Takumi cracked his neck, smirking. "If I stop, how am I supposed to replace her?"
Kendo's face went red, her breath catching. Takumi closed the distance, his hand sliding down to grab her ass, big, wide, firm under his palm, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. "How am I supposed to replace her?" he repeated, voice low.
Kendo's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Her voice came out shaky. "If... if you use me... will you leave my classmates alone?"
Takumi rolled his eyes, amused. "Depends on how tasty you are."
She hesitated, then nodded once, sharp, decisive. They slipped out of the bedroom, navigating the party until they found another room upstairs, locking the door behind them. The music thumped faintly through the walls, a distant heartbeat.
Takumi flicked on the light, catching Kendo's face, flushed, determined, her orange eyes fierce. She was beautiful in her own way, tall, athletic build with a voluptuous figure, wide hips, thick thighs, full breasts straining her sweater. "Should we... take it slow?" she asked, voice small.
Takumi smirked. "No. Music's loud. Let's match its rhythm and get it over with."
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a big, bruising kiss, lips crashing, tongues clashing immediately. Kendo moaned into his mouth, surprised but responding, her hands fisting in his hoodie. He broke away long enough to yank his shirt off, revealing his toned chest, then grabbed her hand and pressed it to his bulge, hard and insistent through his jeans.
Kendo breathed heavily, heart racing under his palm. She fumbled with his zipper, pulling his cock free, ten inches of thick, veined heat springing out. Her eyes widened, hands wrapping around it in awe. "It's... huge."
Takumi chuckled darkly. "This isn't a teaching moment. I expect a lot from you, Class President. Since you're the one I have to go through to get your classmates." He laughed, low and mocking.
Kendo frowned, but bent down, slowly licking his shaft, tentative at first, then bolder, her tongue tracing the veins. Takumi grabbed her head, thrusting deep, she gagged, eyes watering, but he pulled out, then thrust again. She caught the rhythm, her tongue swirling more confidently, taking him deeper with each bob.
He pulled her up roughly, pushing her onto the bed and ripping her clothes off, sweater torn open, bra snapped, jeans yanked down to reveal her voluptuous figure, full breasts heaving, wide hips, thick thighs, and a trimmed patch of orange hair above her glistening pussy. She was one of the beauties of their year, and Takumi's cock twitched at the sight.
He dove in, fingers plunging into her wet heat, her walls tight, slick, clenching around him as he curled them, rubbing that spot that made her squirm. Her moans grew louder, breasts bouncing as she arched. He squeezed them, pinching her nipples, then sucked one into his mouth, hard, relentless, while his fingers worked faster. Kendo climaxed suddenly, yelling out, her squirt violent and soaking his hand, the bed beneath her.
Takumi positioned himself, slamming into her missionary style, deep, powerful thrusts that made her wail, her legs wrapping around his waist. He pushed past her boundaries, shoving all ten inches in, her walls stretching, clenching as she came again, tears streaming down her face.
He held her neck gently but firmly, pulling her up for a bruising kiss, tongues tangling as he pounded into her.
He flipped her onto her stomach, crawling over her, violently smacking his pelvis against her ass, the cheeks rippling with each thrust. She felt squishy, soft, perfect, her pussy gripping him like a vice. "I'm gonna cum," he growled, pushing deep.
Kendo gasped, "Inside... please."
He slammed harder, exploding inside her, thick spurts filling her womb, her walls milking him as she shuddered beneath him. He stayed buried for a long moment, letting every drop empty out, her body trembling.
Once he pulled out, Kendo collapsed on the bed, panting, eyes glassy. "Was... was I enough? Will you leave them alone?"
Takumi smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'll have an answer for you soon."
___
Takumi Hayase strode through the bustling halls of UA High, the post-Christmas break energy buzzing around him like static electricity. Students chattered about holiday gifts, family trips, and the lingering haze of festive overindulgence, their voices echoing off the lockers in a chaotic symphony. The air smelled faintly of fresh paint from some winter maintenance, mixed with the crisp January chill seeping through the windows.
Takumi felt a little giddy, an unfamiliar lightness in his step that made him smirk to himself, uncharacteristic, but welcome after the intensity of the past few weeks.
His mind was elsewhere, drifting to the encounter with Kendo Itsuka only two weeks ago.
That was aggressive, he thought, replaying the scene in his head, the way he'd grabbed her, the raw dominance, the way she'd yielded under him like putty. I know I have no real bias or hate, but pushing like that... it's because I might be leaving for a new world soon. Why care about consequences here? But even as the rationale formed, he shook his head internally, a twinge of self-reproach cutting through the giddiness. Stupid way to act. This was my first transferred world—the foundation. I should leave it in good state, like an ex you part with on amicable terms. No burned bridges, just open doors if I ever come back.
Lost in thought, he nearly collided with someone rounding the corner, Setsuna Tokage, her green hair tied back in a ponytail, her uniform crisp and her reptilian eyes locking onto his with a mix of surprise and that borderline shy look she'd been wearing in their texts.
"Whoa, Hayase, watch it!" she said, but her tone was playful, a smirk tugging at her lips.
They'd started texting over the break after she'd caught him slipping out of that room at the party, Kendo still inside, disheveled and spent. Tokage had leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and joked, "Handsome guy like you coming out of there all sweaty? No offense, but were you busy in there or what?" He'd fired back with a grin.
"Up to you to find out." It had escalated from there, flirty banter, late-night messages about quirks and school drama, and now... something he wanted to try. Her Lizard Tail Splitter quirk was fascinating, detaching body parts, controlling them remotely, feeling every sensation as if they were still attached. The possibilities were endless, and he'd been curious.
"Sorry," he said, steadying her with a light touch on her arm. "You got it?"
Tokage glanced around the hall, students streaming by, oblivious, then palmed something small and warm into his hand, her fingers lingering a second too long. It was soft, fleshy, wrapped in a discreet cloth. He pocketed it quickly, his heart rate spiking with anticipation. "See you later," he murmured, his voice low.
She nodded, biting her lip, that shy look deepening into something more heated, as she turned toward her classroom. Takumi waited until she was a few steps away, then slipped his hand into his pocket, fingers brushing the detached part, her pussy, warm and responsive, a pocket of sensation she'd split off just for him.
He rubbed it lightly, testing, teasing, and watched her squirm mid-stride, her knees buckling slightly as she grabbed a locker for support, a soft gasp escaping her lips. She shot him a glance over her shoulder, eyes wide with a mix of shock and delight, before hurrying into her class.
Takumi liked it, the control, the secret thrill, the way her body reacted from afar. This could be fun, he thought, continuing down the hall.
As he turned the corner, he caught Midnight eying him from her office doorway, her whip coiled at her hip, expression unreadable but intense. He knew what that was about, the recording with Camie, the wild session in that motel where she'd begged him to film it.
He'd repeated the same thing with his teacher when he had met up with her over the break and had sent snippets to a few select people, anonymously, of course, as a setup for later chaos. She didn't know yet, but the seeds were planted.
He walked past without a word, feeling her gaze burn into his back.
Class with Cementoss dragged on, chemistry, formulas scrawled on the board about quirk molecular interactions, the droning voice of the concrete hero lulling half the room into drowsiness. Takumi sat in the back, notebook open but mind elsewhere. His hand dipped into his pocket again, fingers rubbing the soft, hidden flesh, slow, circular motions that built pressure. It dampened under his touch, warm and slick, and he imagined Tokage in her class, squirming at her desk, biting her lip to stifle moans.
The thought made him harden slightly, but he kept his expression neutral, rubbing faster, deeper. The bell rang suddenly, class over, and his phone buzzed, a message from Tokage to meet on the roof.
He felt a rumble in his pocket, the part twitching as if on the verge. Smirking, he slipped out through the shadows, Blackout carrying him unseen to the rooftop access. But as he emerged, the scene shifted.
Tokage was there, breathing heavily, slumped against the railing, hand pressed to her lower abdomen. "You... you bastard," she gasped, but her eyes were alight with heat. "Teacher thought I was sick, sent me out. That was... intense."
Takumi approached, touching her arm, she jumped slightly, then giggled through heavy breaths. "And now you get to heal me up?" she asked, grabbing his tie and pulling him into a kiss, hot, urgent, her body pressing against his.
He thought of Kendo's plea, leave my classmates alone, the worry in her eyes, the protectiveness. But as Tokage's lips moved against his, her hands roaming, he decided, Screw that.
The world was his to enjoy, and he wasn't done yet.