🪷 — pool party (timeskip)
cw: chubby/curvy!reader, cunnilingus, kinda crack at some parts — not proofread
the first week of this blistering hot weather drove him up a wall. walking in that damn hero costume on patrol. his tan lines? awful. he reeked of sweat and sunscreen constantly. so, when momo texted the group chat saying that she was hosting a pool party to kick off summer, he immediately agreed.
that saturday, he showed up in a pair of swim trunks and one of those tank-tops that really didn’t cover anything. he walked around to the backyard, entering through the gate. most of the old class was there, but he didn’t recognize one woman. she was sitting by the pool with her feet in the water, margarita glass filled with pink slush. mina and ochako were standing near her in the pool, laughing and conversing with her.
kirishima walked over to bakugo, denki, and sero, sitting in another chair at the table under the umbrella.
“who’s she?” he asked, glancing back at the woman.
“mina’s friend, moved here a few weeks ago,” denki stated.
“her name’s [+],” sero added, sipping his glass of lemonade.
kirishima looked back at her again, eyes examining her. she was soft, curvy. the tiny pink bikini she wore only added to it. how he would’ve loved to have those thighs around his he—
“kiri!” mina beamed, finally spotting him.
“c’mere, i have someone you need to meet!” she insisted with an almost sinister grin.
“he’s who mina was talking about,” ochako whispered—rather loudly—to the woman. the woman’s cheeks flushed.
kirishima huffed out a faint laugh at mina’s insistence, standing up from his chair. he pulled off his tank-top, leaving it on his seat. her eyes shifted to him, roving up his body. pure, solid muscle. she watched as he slid into the pool, smiling with those sharp teeth as mina pulled him over.
“this is [+],” mina beamed, leading kirishima right in front of the woman.
“she moved into the apartment beside mine in march.”
even being the pool, he was taller than her. he was a mass in front of her, almost entirely blocking her vision. she flushed, pupils dilating slightly. she watched his smile widen—a genuine one, not a fake one from guys who thought she wasn’t attractive and used it as an excuse to be a fucking prick.
“i’m eijirou kirishima, call me whatever,” he greeted, offering his large hand to her. she took it, shaking it gently. his hand was rough and scarred, hers perfectly smooth—religious lotion application does that.
his hand lingered on hers, pulling just slightly. he noticed her nails—long, manicured, decorated with charms of all sorts. perfect for raking down his ba—
“nice nails,” he commented before his mind could stray too far.
she smiled softly, showing both hands.
“thanks, mina found me a nice artist who did them,” she replied.
silence fell for a moment before he spoke again.
“what’re you drinking?” he asked, nodding towards her glass.
“cherry margarita,” she stated.
“fake cherry or good cherry?”
they both laughed, genuine laughs. mina and ochako shared a glance, grinning at one another.
“can i have a sip?” kirishima questioned, looking down at her.
“is your sip half the glass?” she teased, eyeing his large form once again. he laughed again, smile widening.
“i suppose,” she murmured, handing him the glass.
he sipped, right where the faint mark of her lipgloss was left. mango lip gloss with a cherry margarita? the girl really liked her fruit.
later that evening, the few that were left were in the hot tub—denki and jirou, katsuki and ochako, sero and mina, and her and kirishima. she had originally been beside him, but ended up in his lap after denki had climbed in. was there room? entirely. did mina purposefully take up more space so she could use the lack of space as an excuse? yes.
kirishima’s hands settled on her hips, kneading the soft flesh gently. she could feel his thighs flex occasionally under her, his hands occasionally tugging her back ever so slightly. every time she plant her hands on the bench to elevate herself slightly—trying to relieve him of her weight—he’d knock her wrists loose and pull her back down.
she got out at one point, excusing herself to the restroom. he watched her go with a pout, longing eyes following after her.
“you met her today,” bakugo pointed out, voice gruff as always.
kirishima just groaned, head falling back dramatically.
“she’s perfect, bro,” he admitted, glancing back at the door impatiently.
mina and ochako high-fived across the hot tub, giggling.
“you set this up?” kirishima questioned, lifting his head back up.
“dude, they’ve been planning this for months,” sero laughed.
kirishima’s face flushed.
“thanks, i guess?” he laughed.
“you’re welcome,” mina beamed, receiving laughs from everyone.
just then, she returned, running back to the hot tub. she slid back in. before she even got the chance to move, kirishima grabbed her hips once more and pulled her back into his lap.
when eleven o’clock came, they all retreated into momo’s home—as she had offered the spare bedrooms for the night. one issue though, only one room was left.
“you take the bed,” he offered immediately—it was the manly thing to do, after all.
“no, no—we can share, it’s fine,” she stated softly. he felt his pulse quicken.
“you can shower first,” he insisted, receiving a faint nod. she ducked into the bathroom with her bag.
she showered fast, emerging in a tank-top and a tiny pair of shorts. as she slid into bed, he disappeared into the bathroom to shower as well. he emerged in a pair of basketball shorts, hair still wet. he laid beside her, bed dipping slightly.
instead of sleeping, they spoke in hushed whispers.
“no way! megadeath is better!”
“you should listen to sub-mission by the sex pistols.”
“it’s submarine mission, not the sexy kind of submission.”
maybe it was the alcohol still in their veins, or maybe the delirium of being up so late, but the conversation became more erotic.
“can i be grossly honest?”
“sure, mama,” he replied. the name just slipped out, but neither cared.
“every guy i’m with sucks at eating it,” she huffed, “or they stop because they don’t want me to come in their mouths, but then they get mad at me when i say the same thing.”
“totally not manly,” he stated, propping his head up on his hand, “why start a meal just to not finish it?”
she giggled at that, face flushing slightly.
“i wouldn’t do that,” he stated confidently.
“cut my visit to a sacred place short? how dumb do you think i am, huh?” he laughed, hand squeezing her thigh gently.
that got them here. she was laid back, shorts and panties off with her shirt shoved up. his head was between her thighs, squeezed by the soft flesh of them as he devoured her. he lapped like he hadn’t eaten in decades, careful to not catch her flesh on his teeth. her nails dug into his scalp.
one large hand held her hip, holding her in place. the other was squeezing and fondling her breasts.
“eiji—” she gasped when he sucked her clit, eyes fluttering shut. his eyes remained focused on her face, watching every micro expression that crossed it. the way she swallowed back spit so it wouldn’t dribble from her mouth, the way her lip trembled occasionally, the way her pupils expanded snd shrank, and the way her long lashes fluttered.
as her thighs squeezed his head tighter and tugged his hair harder, he doubled his efforts. she let out a gaspy moan when she came, hips gyrating against his face. he continued his ministrations, letting her ride out that high. when her thighs loosened, he pulled back, peppering soft kisses on her thighs.
“you need help,” she mumbled, eyes drooping as he crawled up the bed to hover over her.
“no, i’m fine, mama. go to sleep,” kirishima insisted gently, kissing her forehead. she nodded slightly. he slid out of bed, carefully putting her panties and shorts back on her body before disappearing into the bathroom.
she had been too tired to notice that he’d come in his shorts. saved him the embarrassment.
the following morning, bakugo approached him in the kitchen.
“try being quieter next time, shitty hair,” he muttered. kirishima’s face flushed.
he likes thick girls, FIGHT ME.
