Minoru Mineta's POV
Today hit like a bad hangover after a grape binge-dawn creeping over U.A. High's dorms, my head pounding from Midnight's Somnambulist haze and the sheer balls-to-the-wall insanity of sucking her tits to win that exam.
Yeah, you heard right. Two minutes of pure, desperate mouth-action on those perfect, heaving boobs, lips sealed around the swells, tongue lashing like I was starving, her moans shaking me to my core-"Ahh, grape-kun!"-before I bolted with snoring Sero over the line.
Pass for me, fail for him, but damn, the deck's cheers mixed with gasps? Worth every pervy second.
Class 1-A thought it was gross, but heroes do what heroes gotta do. And me? Minoru Mineta, king of the underdogs, just proved I've got the guts.
But victory's sweet taste soured quick. Lurking in the dorms' shadows after Aizawa dismissed us for "rest" before Tsuyu and Tokoyami's match, I overheard shit that flipped my world.
The common room was empty, everyone crashed out from the exam grind, but voices leaked from the kitchenette-low, urgent, like villains in a bad rom-com.
I froze behind the vending machine, my Pop-Off balls itching to pop in panic, grape-head helmet tucked under my arm.
It was Mina Ashido-pink-skinned goddess, acid-slinging bombshell with horns that screamed "ride me"-and that sparkly French fry, Aoyama. And Denki Kaminari, the dunce with the electric grin.
Mina's voice hit first, that bubbly rasp turned venom: "Shiggy's pissed about the finals delay. Says if we don't map the camp's weak spots, he'll dust us himself. I slipped the acid samples into Nezu's mech-corroded the logs, got the schematics. Your zap was gold, Denki."
Denki's wheezy laugh crackled. "Teamwork makes the dream work, Pinky. But Mirio's 50%? Blackwhip's a bitch to counter-those shadows grab everything."
Aoyama tinkled in, "Oui, but my laser's got the Big Three's patrol routes. Mina, your turn-seduce that intel from Kirishima if you must."
My blood boiled, then froze. Mina? The traitor? Hot-as-hell Mina, with her curvy pink frame, acid-slick skin that begged to be licked, horns curling like devilish invitations? LOV scum, right under our noses, melting defenses while flashing that killer smile.
Rage mixed with opportunity-pervy gears turning. She'd played dirty against Nezu, kicking low with acid, and now? Knowledge was power, and I had the dirt. Blackmail? Nah.
Leverage for the score of a lifetime. Extreme, no-holds-barred, make-her-mine sex. Impregnate the pink traitor, tie her to me forever. My 12-inch beast-yeah, quirk-enhanced in ways I don't advertise-twitched at the thought. She was fire; I'd make her burn.
I waited till they split, Aoyama and Denki slinking off to their rooms, Mina lingering to chug a energy drink, her hero costume-pink-and-black leotard hugging every jiggle-worthy curve-clinging from the day's sweat.
I stepped out, casual as hell, Pop-Off balls at the ready. "Yo, Ashido. Killer moves on Nezu. Acid and zaps? Chef's kiss."
She spun, horns glinting, that fanged grin flashing. "Mineta! You perv-master of the hour-sucking off Midnight? Legendary. What's up?"
Her eyes sparkled, oblivious, but I leaned in, voice low. "Overheard you three. LOV, Shigaraki, the works. Traitor talk."
Her face drained-pink paling to peach-fangs biting her lip. "W-what? Mineta, you're joking, right? That's-" I cut her, popping a ball to stick her energy can to the counter, trapping her gaze.
"Not joking, Pinky. Mina Ashido, third rat in the ranks. But hey, secrets are sexy. And you? Hot as hell. Let's make a deal: you and me, now, extreme fun. No strings-except the ones I tie. Or I spill to Aizawa. Your call."
Panic flickered, then calculation-her acid quirk bubbling faintly at her palms, but she quelled it. "You little grape... fine. But make it worth it, or I melt your balls." Grin returned, wicked. "My room. Now."
Her dorm was a pink explosion-posters of pro heroes, acid-proof rugs, a bed piled with plushies that screamed innocence masking sin. Door locked, she turned, leotard unzipped halfway, exposing the swell of her cleavage, pink skin glistening.
"Well? Traitor tax time?" I lunged, tiny frame slamming her against the wall, hands roaming her hips-curvy, firm from training. "You're mine tonight, Mina." She gasped, but her body arched, traitor fire meeting my pervy blaze.
I yanked her down-height difference be damned-lips crashing into hers like a Pop-Off barrage. Firm at first, claiming the plush pink pillows of her mouth, fangs nicking my tongue in a sharp thrill.
She tasted like cherry acid-sweet-tangy, her breath hot with energy drink fizz. I parted her lips with my tongue, delving deep, stroking the velvet cavern in slow, insistent sweeps.
Hers met mine, tentative then fierce-fanged tip grazing my length, a vampire's tease that shot fire to my groin.
Fifteen minutes blurred in wet heat: my tongue curled around hers, sucking gently, drawing her into my mouth for a languid duel, saliva mingling in slick strings that trailed when I pulled back, only to plunge again.
Five minutes: I angled my head, deepening the seal, tongue exploring every ridge-the roof's sensitive arch, the undersides of her fangs, flicking the tips in playful retaliation as she moaned into me, "M-Mineta..."
Her hands clutched my grape hair, pulling me closer, hips grinding against my thigh. Ten: fervor peaked, tongues battling-mine thrusting like a piston, hers countering with eager suction, rolling mine back to tease the base before yielding.
Wet sounds filled the room-slurps, gasps-her pink skin flushing deeper, breaths ragged through noses.
Twelve: I nipped her lower lip, soothing with broad laps, then delved to trace her gums, her teeth, claiming every inch. She whimpered, body melting, the kiss a lifeline in her traitor storm.
Fifteen ended with a final twirl-tongues entwined, stilling in shared heat-lips parting with a gasp, hers swollen, shining with our essence.
Hunger shifted south. I unzipped her leotard fully, peeling it down to her waist, exposing her breasts-full, perky orbs, pink-nippled peaks hardening in the dorm's cool air, acid-slick sheen making them glisten like forbidden fruit.
"God, Mina-you're perfect," I growled, hands cupping the undersides, thumbs abrading the buds before my mouth descended on the left.
Lips sealed around the nipple, tongue flicking once, then sucking-harder than the kiss, cheeks hollowing to pull the peak deep into wet heat.
She arched, a sharp cry-"Mineta!"-fangs biting her lip as I lavished: tongue swirling tight circles around the areola, teeth grazing the edge for sting, suction relentless, rhythmic, like milking her very soul.
Five minutes: left breast throbbed under my assault, reddened and glistening, nipple swollen from the vacuum-pull, a faint bead of her essence-sweet-acid tang-lapping up as I switched.
Right now claimed, same ferocity-lips enveloping fully, sucking harder, tongue battering the bud in rapid flicks while my hand kneaded the left, pinching in sync.
"Ahh-harder, grape!" she moaned, hands threading my hair, pulling me deeper.
Ten: alternating frenzy-mouth hopping, suck left deep and draining, nip right for contrast; then swap, suction bordering ache, her pink skin flushing crimson, breaths hitching into pleas.
Twelve: buried between them, tongue tracing the valley, then dual pulls-lips on left, fingers mimicking on right-wet slurps echoing, her body writhing, hips bucking against my knee.
Fifteen closed with prolonged devotion: hard suck on each, final pulls drawing guttural moans-"Mineta, yes!"-breasts heaving, marked with bite-blooms, saliva trails cooling on her chest.
I dropped lower, leotard shoved to her thighs, exposing her stomach-toned, pink plane dipping to her navel, a perfect oval dimple, acid-smooth and quivering.
Kneeling, I pressed lips to her lower abs, trailing fire-soft pecks hardening to sucks-circling the navel's rim.
Tongue delved first, tracing the edge in teasing laps, savoring the salt-sweat tang, her muscle clenching under my touch.
Clothes shed in a frenzy-my uniform pooling, her leotard kicked aside-she sprawled on the bed, pink legs parting, core glistening with need.
My 12-inch beast sprang free, veined and throbbing, quirk-enhanced girth pulsing with pervy pride. "Gonna fill you, Mina-deep, breed the traitor."
She bit her lip, eyes dark. "Do it, Mineta-make me yours." I positioned, head breaching her folds-stretching her velvet heat inch by girthy inch, bottoming out as my tip kissed her cervix. She cried out-"Mineta!"-walls clenching like a vice.
Two hours of extreme rutting: thrusts every second, relentless piston-hips slamming, my length plunging full-depth, tip battering her womb's gate with each hilt.
First thirty minutes: missionary fury, her legs over my shoulders for deeper angles, my hand splaying her exposed stomach, squeezing the pink plane-firm presses just above her mound, compressing to force my invasion home.
"Ahh-Mineta! Deeper!" she screamed, name a mantra as the squeeze milked me deeper, her core convulsing.
Seed built, but I held, thrusting ceaseless-wet slaps echoing, her moans fracturing into wails when my palm kneaded harder, feeling her womb yield.
Hour one: flipped her-doggy, ass high, my chest to her back, one arm banding her waist, hand reclaiming her stomach from below, squeezing upward in vise-pulses as I rutted savage.
"Scream Mina, feel me breed you!" Tip breached fully now, womb kissed with every plunge, her screams peaking-"Mineta! Oh-yes, deeper!"-body thrashing, acid-slick skin sliding against mine.
Climax hit at forty-five: I roared, seed erupting in thick ropes-virile floods pumping into her womb's heart, the squeeze ensuring saturation, not a drop wasted, her walls milking every spurt as she shattered-"Minetaaa!"-juices soaking us.
But no end-stamina quirk-fueled, I continued, positions blurring: her riding me reverse, breasts bouncing, my hands mauling her stomach, squeezing in time with her descent-"Minetaaaaaa"-fresh loads flooding, compression anchoring the spark.
Side-spooned, intimate, palm flat on her belly, pressing relentlessly as I thrust slow-deep, pulses syncing-"Scream my name, traitor!" Her wails-"Mineta! Impregnate-ahh!"-filled the room, another climax gushing, seed overflowing yet held by the vise.
Hour two: primal close-face-to-face, legs locked, my 12-inch buried to the hilt, hand never leaving her stomach, squeezing in unyielding waves-rhythmic kneads drawing guttural screams-"Mineta! Deeper"-as thrusts hammered every second, tip exploding her cervix, her womb a vessel for my essence.
Final peaks cascaded: seed torrent after torrent, virile ropes painting her depths white, the squeezes-harder, deeper-ensuring embedding, the life-spark igniting in her core.
She thrashed, nails raking my back, screams dissolving-"Mineta...I'm yours..."-body milking the flood, stomach taut under my grip, faint glow confirming: impregnated, irrevocably.
We collapsed, her head on my chest, breaths syncing. "You're a monster, grape," she purred, hand on her belly.
Class 1-A slept on, exams waiting. But me? I'd just won the war.