Summary: Reader has nightmares and Jolly is there to comfort reader.
Jolly would never grow accustomed to the soft, broken sounds of you whimpering in your sleep. This had been going on for years but slowly grew into somewhat of a constant thing the last week. Some nights he stayed awake, phone in hand or the TV murmuring in the background, just to make sure your dreams stayed gentle, to guard your peace even when you couldn’t.
Tonight you drifted to sleep in his arms, the movie still flickering across the room. It wasn’t unusual, Jolly didn’t necessarily love the idea of having a TV in the bedroom, knowing you’d fall asleep to anything you watched. Sometimes that meant the horror movies on screen slipped into your dreams, twisting them into something darker. He never quite understood your fascination with horror movies, not when you seemed to live them every night behind closed eyes.
Jolly’s arm had long gone numb from you sleeping on it for the past forty minutes. He shifted carefully, easing his arm free from beneath you. The movement earned a few sleepy moans and a soft groan, but you didn’t stir beyond that. Your breathing stayed steady, peaceful. He flexed his fingers, feeling the pins and needles rush back, and watched you for a moment. The faint glow of the TV painted your face in flickering light, and he couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful you looked.
The moment Jolly’s arms were no longer around you, your body knew instinctively, dreadfully, that you were no longer safe. The light drained from the sky, the warmth of day collapsing into a storm of black clouds. Panic clawed at your chest as the dream twisted.
From behind the tall fern trees, a shadow stirred, its presence slicing through the silence. You scanned the meadow, desperate for safety, until a church appeared in the distance. You ran, heart hammering, and slipped into the confessional, pressing yourself into the corner and crouching down. Maybe if you stayed quiet enough, it wouldn’t find you.
You drew your knees to your chest, trembling, listening to the slow, deliberate footsteps outside. Darkness crept through the cracks in the door. Sweat and tears blurred together as you covered your mouth, fighting the sound of your own breath.
The door shuddered. The shadow was upon you. You kicked, screamed, fought against the weight pressing you down.
“(Y/n)!” You hear a familiar voice and it finally clicks, you’re dreaming. The darkness fractures, replaced by the soft glow of reality. Your vision fills with Jolly leaning over you, his hands gentle eyes filled with concern.
He exhales when your eyes finally open. “Baby?” He softly says making sure you are fully awake.
You blink at him, disoriented, the edges of the dream still clinging to you. For a moment, you can’t tell if you’re still trapped in that shadowed meadow or back in your room. But then he reaches for the lamp and you see his face… familiar, safe, and real.
Your breathing slows. You press a hand to your forehead, closing your eyes. “Sorry,” you whisper. “Did I wake you?”
Jolly shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t wake me. I was already up.” He props himself on one elbow, resting his chin in his hand. With the other, he brushes your damp hair from your face, fingers lingering long enough to ground you back to reality. “Bad one tonight?” He softly asks.
You nod, barely. The silence between you hums with unspoken things. He watches you for a moment longer, then shifts closer.
You turn onto your side, inching closer until your forehead rests against his chest. His fingers trace slow, soothing lines down your arm. “The church one again,” you mumble against his skin.
“My poor girl.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head, voice thick with concern. “Is there anything I can do?”
You lift your face from his chest and sit up, the sheets rustling softly. Jolly mirrors you, his expression gentle but alert.
“The only thing I know,” you sigh, “is that I don’t want to go back to sleep.”
He nods, wordless, and shifts back against the headboard. You curl up beside him without thinking, drawn to the warmth. He pulls the blanket over both of you, wrapping you loosely in his arms. “I’ll stay up with you,” he murmurs. “Should I sing to you?”
The question hangs between sincerity and teasing; he doesn’t want to sing, but he would if it helped. You smile faintly, voice barely above a whisper.
“Please.”
When Jolly begins to sing, his voice is low and steady. You can feel the vibration of each note, warm and alive beneath your skin. His wedding ring is cool against your arm as his fingers trace slow, absent patterns. Your eyelids grow heavy as the song drifts toward its end.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Rest. I’ll be here to keep you safe.”
His hand moves gently through your hair, coaxing you toward sleep even as you fight it.
“I don’t want to,” you murmur, voice fading. “I’m not gonna fall asleep.”
But you do. You fall asleep knowing someone is there to guard you from the monsters your mind conjures. In dreams or in daylight, Jolly is your constant and he promised the day he married you that he would always be there for you.
imagining dilf!kirishima (part two)
word count: 5.6k
pairing: kirishima eijirou x f!reader
content warnings: age gap (reader is early twenties, kirishima is early thirties), kinda sugar daddy/baby dynamics but only if you squint, f!reader, reader is kind of a nervous brat, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (but mentions of taking pill-form birth control), use of petnames, spanking (kinda?), creampie, choking, praise. also the prose in this is non-existent and the format is trash and if anyone sees any y'alls that i forgot to edit out...just.......let it rock.
18+ mdni (and no blank blogs) or you will get blocked.
authors note: not me thinking about this post i made the other day for the t h o u s a n d t h time but just there's so much more to imagine, like:
it's before noon on a thursday and you have a final presentation for an elective american lit class in a few hours and you're about to climb a wall because you've practiced your presentation in your mirror so much that you can't stand the sight of your own face anymore so you end up calling kirishima. your stomach flips when you hear his voice on the other end of the line, all deep and sweet and cheery.
"hey, sweet girl! don't you have a final today?" he teases and your stomach is about to flip straight out of your body at the fact that he remembered.
"yeah, i'm really nervous about it." you chew on your lip.
"why don't you come over to the agency and practice in front of me? i don't have patrol until this afternoon." he suggests and you feel a little dumb for not thinking to suggest that yourself.
"are you sure? it won't be...weird?"
"'course not. you're my girlfriend and besides, it's my agency." kirishima continues but your brain gets all staticky after the first part of his sentence.
"i'm your girlfriend." you state slowly, goofy smile on your face that eijirou physically can't see but you can hear him chuckle on his end of the phone. it was the first time that he had called you that outright.
"i mean, i hope so, or pouring my heart out in front of that mcdonald's would have been kinda embarrassing." he jests. you cradle your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab your laptop and your notes from around your room and shove them in your schoolbag.
"definitely your girlfriend, eiji." you say with a broad grin on your face as your pick up your apartment keys and head out the door. "also i'm on my way." you finish up your conversation with kirishima as you bound down the stairs and onto the sidewalk.
the walk to his building isn't terribly long and is made even shorter by reciting the facts of your presentation over and over again in your head. you ride the elevator up to the floor that he texted you that he was on and just before the doors slide open, you're hit by a wave of anxiety. you know that kirishima has sidekicks that he employs at his agency that are around your age and you wonder agitatedly what they'll think of you.
too soon, the doors are opening and you hold your breath, expecting the worst but everything is relatively...mundane. like a magnet, your eyes find the door with kirishima's name on the front and you set a quick course for the door. you don't know why you did it, not really, but you slide through his door quickly, not even bothering to knock. you accidentally interrupt a phonecall he was having.
"what's she getting a degree in, anyways? learning how to tie her shoes? reciting the alphabet?" your face heats up at the sound of the man eijirou has on the other end of the line. he swivels in his chair, scrambling to cut the call short.
"goodbye, bakugou." kirishima scowls pointedly at the phone before fixing his face and looking up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. "hey there, sweet thing," he grins and you shake off the self-doubt trying to make itself at home in your body. "i'm so ready to see your presentation." he goes on. his office is modest, a medium oak desk with a shiny black chair and an exquisite view of the city. you take a few steps around, admiring the pictures of him in his hero costume and some with his hero friends.
silently, kirishima cups his hands dutifully on his desk as he waits expectantly for you to start your presentation but you're caught off guard by how handsome and powerful he looks sitting there, hair laying flat against his head and dress shirt unbuttoned just enough at the top to make you want to undo the rest of the buttons. it's like kirishima can read your thoughts because he starts smirking at you and it flusters you just enough to startle you out of your reverie. you pull your laptop out of your schoolbag and click around, opening up the powerpoint and sitting it where the red-head can see it. you take a deep breath and crack your knuckles before launching into your speech about the impact of the beat poet movement, specifically allen ginsberg, and the murky history of that part of american literature. by the time you were done, kirishima was leaning forward, listening intently, and the tips of your ears were practically on fire from all of the attention he was paying you. he didn't look bored in the slightest. that had to account for something, right? kirishima clapped his hands enthusiastically as you shuffled your index cards back into the correct order and shut your laptop.
"that was so informative, baby! i didn't know any of that stuff!" he encouraged, standing up to step around his desk and pull you into his broad chest. you inhaled his cologne that you loved so much and it made you a little dizzy. you wrapped your arms around his sides and tried to fight the bashful grin on your face even though he couldn't see it.
"you really think so?" your voice is muffled by his chest.
"'course i do. you're the smartest person i know." kirishima backs away a step and hooks his index finger under your chin to make you look up at him. he pecks your lips quickly and all of your nerves momentarily disappear. "can't wait to take you on a real date tonight, either." he grins and you almost balk at forgetting the previously planned engagement.
"are you sure you still wanna go out with me? are you sure you wouldn't rather go out with your friends or...anyone else?" you hated being so insecure, but more than anything, you hated the idea of being an inconvenience. kirishima tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. you nuzzled your face against his hand.
"i've been planning tonight for an entire month. there's nowhere else i'd rather be than with you this evening after my patrol." he smiles reassuringly at you and your heart swells. he was so good to you.
"thank you. y'know, for waiting for me and everything." you hope your words convey your feelings. there comes a knock at the door. a sidekick around your age, already dressed out in their gear, sticks their head through the door.
"it's almost time to go, mr. riot." the sidekick's eyes dart between you and kirishima. eijirou lets out a good-natured sigh.
"i've already told you, it's okay to just use my name." the sidekick nods dutifully.
"of course, mr. riot! i'll be waiting for you downstairs." he casts another quick glance between the two of you before retreating and shutting the door. there's a dusting of color on kirishima's cheeks when you look up at him. you grin like a lovesick puppy up at him, having never seen him interact with his colleagues before. you pull him into an easy hug.
"they just don't listen to me," he mumbles into your hair and you giggle before checking your watch. your eyes grow wide seeing the time.
"shit, i gotta go!" you exclaim-the moment over and jump over to kirishima's desk. you pack your laptop away quickly. you throw your bag over your shoulder and bound for the door, stop to think for a moment, turn around, and give eijirou a quick kiss before exiting.
hours later, you're back in your tiny apartment after finishing your presentation on campus and running errands and you're just relaxing for a minute before you start getting ready for your date (!!!) with kirishima. you're lounging on your bed in a robe and a soothing face mask when your phone chirps on your nightstand with a reminder that you have an extra credit quiz due at five. the notification sends you into overdrive because it's already four and you had a whole extensive hours-long get ready routine planned for your date and you didn't even really need to take the extra credit quiz, but what was the point in being so uptight about your education if you weren't going to take every option available to you?
so you start racing around and grab your class notes and your laptop and zoom through your quiz and manage to elaborate and remember all the facts for the essay questions better than you thought you did!! you manage to turn your quiz in just in time and you take a deep breath and start laying out your outfit for your date that consists of stuff that kirishima helped you pick out when y’all were shopping together. he wanted to take you out to a nice restaurant (much better than the one you worked at) because that “was the respectable thing to do." you finally are able to shower and do your hair and makeup and the whole process is really relaxing which really helps with your nerves, but it's also a good way to pamper yourself after the stress of finals.
too quickly, the time comes and kirishima is knocking on your door and you’re trying to run to answer the door and put your heels on at the same time and you end up falling over onto your washing machine and making a huge crashing sound and when you go to open the door, kirishima is standing there with a look of concern on his face and you’re just like “p l e a s e just give me five minutes” and he smirks like the absolute little rascal that he is and follows you into your apartment and he looks around at everything while you finish getting ready without tearing the whole place down. kirishima takes note that you have a ton of plants in your kitchen placed on the window sills and on the kitchen sink and he thinks it's really cute but he notices some of the plant leaves are ~crispy~ and the soil is kinda dry so he takes a cup and starts watering them while he waits for you.
finally, after about ten minutes, he hears your bedroom door open and you come out and see him watering your plants and you're just standing there with heart eyes (also because he looks fucking good with his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows). then he turns to look at you and he's also mega heart eyes and he tells you that you look pretty as he dusts soil off of his hands and goes over to greet you properly and give you a warm kiss on the cheek.
after that, he drives the two of you to dinner through the crowded nighttime streets and he holds your hand the whole time and there isn't much conversation on the ride there but you just can't take your eyes off of your intertwined fingers. you thought your heart might have been ready to bust when he rubbed his thumb over the tops of your fingers.
when you get to the restaurant, the hostess goes to seat the two of you and you pull kirishima along behind you by the hand and it's such a small thing that you do but he loves it for some reason. dinner passes all too quickly between eating and talking about your respective days and you end up accidentally going too far in-depth about beatniks and abie hoffman and yippies and the effect that guerilla theatre had on the american counterculture movement (which are all points you didn't have time to hit on in your presentation) but kirishima doesn't mind even though he can't focus all that well on what you're talking about because he's too busy congratulating himself on buying you an outfit that looks that good on you.
but then kirishima's feeling a little guilty because you're asking him if he's ever read "howl" since it's a masterpiece even though you're inwardly cringing at how annoying you sound but you're only doing it to get your mind off of kissing kirishima and running your hands through his stupid hair.
after dinner, eijirou drops you back off at your apartment and walks you to the door because honestly it's kind of a sketchy part of town and he's a gentleman. he kisses you goodnight and then a second time and then a third time and before you know it-before your mind has time to catch up with your tongue-you're inviting him in for ice cream. you don't know what you're doing, not exactly, but you don't have time to think anything through before you're standing in front of your coffee table with him sprawled out on the couch behind you. you're desperately trying to get your tv to work to no avail. honestly, the little tv you had was well past its prime and on its last legs, but it had been with you since freshman year and even though the stand it sat on was broken and even though the roku attachment you had for it only worked some of the time, you were attached to it. you didn't see the point in replacing something as long as it still worked well enough. eijirou chuckled behind you.
"just let me buy you a new one." as soon as he spoke, the screen sprang to life playing the last show that you were watching.
"there's no need for that! it works just fine." you grinned down at him, handed him the remote, and placed your phone on the table before going back into the kitchen to get the ice cream that you weren't even hungry for. you just wanted eijirou to hang around for a little longer.
you dug around in your freezer and found the ice cream that you had squirreled away. deciding against bowls, you were scrounging around in your silverware drawer for two clean spoons when you heard your phone ringing from the coffee table.
"hey, can you see who that is?" you called over your shoulder to eijirou as you slid the drawer closed with your hip. the ringing stopped, and too late, you realized what time it was. you watched in mild horror as kirishima cleared his throat and held the phone closer to his face.
"the notification says 'don't forget to take your birth control, you dumb hormonal bitch.'" he pauses to look over at you from the couch, a look of amusement on his face. you're only slightly mortified. "do you want me to snooze that?"
"yeah." you disappear momentarily into your bedroom and take your medicine. you reappear quickly and grab your snack and waltz over to the couch, hoping that the embarrassing interlude will soon be forgotten. you put the ice cream and spoons down on the table and feel eijirou pulling at your hand. you turn around slightly to see what he wants and he pulls you down.
you straddle his lap and his arms wrap around your waist wantonly. you feel your heartbeat quicken when he looks up at you with a lazy smirk on his face.
"i, uh, like your phone lock screen." he lets out a full chuckle then and you wonder briefly if there are any large rocks around for you to hide under.
"i was gonna change it," you pout and start to lean back to grab your phone. eijirou pulls you closer to him instead.
"don't. i like it. that was one of my first magazine covers." his lips flutter against your jaw.
"i know." you gush. "you were really handsome."
"were?" he fakes being taken aback.
"you know what i mean, eiji." your crimson nails come to scrape lightly over his hard chest passively and kirishima grabs your fingers lightly, looking at your nails in the soft glow of the television light. a little smile flashes over his face.
“when’d you get your nails done?”
“today, after my final,” you answer, recalling how you had picked the color, thinking of it as a small, unobtrusive way to show that you were his.
“i like them.” he presses light kisses to the pads of your fingers and your eyes flutter shut, humming at the simple affection.
“it’s a little dumb.” you blush and you feel kirishima’s thumb on your chin, pulling your head down to look at him.
“i don’t think so.” he says with nothing but sincerity in his eyes and if you weren’t already completely smitten beforehand, that was enough to do it.
instead of responding to him verbally, you reach down to kiss him. kirishima’s head is lazily propped up on the back of the couch. his hands tangle in your hair and your lips start to move against him more fervently. the kisses are full of heat and saliva but you’re so entranced by it and the feeling of your chest closely pressed to his that it’s a complete surprise when you feel kirishima’s sharp teeth biting down on your bottom lip. when you open your mouth involuntarily, his tongue slides into your mouth and you revel in the way it makes your stomach knot up nicely.
your hands slide down easily over his torso and through the fabric of his shirt, you can feel his defined abs constricting underneath your touch. you inhale sharply against his mouth and fight the meek feeling that comes over you when eijirou smirks against your lips. he follows your lead and traces a finger down from your jaw to the deep neckline of the dress that you wore. he ran his finger over the length of the seam until he reached one of your shoulders and pulled downwards until the whole expanse of skin was exposed. eijirou cranes his neck forward to place feather light kisses against your skin and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. he sits back to look at you and your run your fingers through the front of his hair. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your dress down all the way to your waist, exposing your bra to him. you can't tell if your skin prickles from the cool air or his hungry gaze.
eijirou's warm hands ghost over your shoulders and chest. in the space of a blink, your back is pressed against the couch and he's sliding your dress down your legs and tossing it to the side. he takes a moment to caress up and down your smooth skin and there's no room to be self-conscious under his gaze any longer. he settles down against the cradle of your body, one strong arm holding him up by your head, and then he's lavishing every inch of your skin with searing kisses that you think might mark you for all to see. not that you would mind. as he works, you busy yourself with undoing the buttons of his shirt. it's not a hard task by any means, but it's hard to focus with all the attention that he's giving you. finally, you unbutton enough of his shirt to where your hands are only centimeters away from the top of his slacks and you start tugging to free the fabric tucked into his pants. eijirou adjusts himself to assist you in tugging his shirt off and when he does, your hand brushes only slightly against his length. how hard he is doesn't surprise you, not really, but what does is the amount. your lips part slightly in awe as you rub the flat palm of your hand up and down his cock. his forehead falls against your shoulder. his free hand moves between your two bodies to pull your hand away from him.
"you gotta stop that, baby." he growls against the shell of your ear and then he's nipping at your earlobe.
"why?" you're all innocence, looking at him with wide eyes.
"you're gonna make me cum in my pants." your heart skips a beat at the way he says it and then your eyebrows knit together in concentration as your hand moves down his body again. you hear him suck in a breath as he bites at your skin in warning.
"gonna cum for me so easy, big guy?" you pout your lips at eijirou to mock him, but your insides are all twisted up from the surge of power you feel. you can feel your own arousal starting to stick to your underwear. you hear a strained, impatient growl against your neck once more and then his hands are yanking yours away with force. a giggle bubbles out of your throat and is blotted out quickly by your panties being pushed to the side and his finger coming to circle roughly around your clit. your back arches, pressing you further into his touch, and it's eijirou's turn to chuckle now. with his free hand, he paws at one of your breasts through your bra.
"are we gonna do...this...with jurassic park playing in the background?" you whisper, a little amused and a little breathless, against eijirou's lips.
"it's actually the second one. the dinosaurs are cooler." he grins, showing off his sharp teeth and that's all it takes for you to pull him into a kiss again. jurassic park or not, you needed this man worse than anything. he pulls his hand out of your underwear and admires how your slick catches the light from the screen a few feet away. he sits up, popping his fingers into his mouth and starts unbuttoning his pants. you moan at the sight and scoot up so you're resting against the arm rest of the couch. eijirou removes his fingers from his mouth and stands up. he's dressed only in his boxers now and if you really wanted to, you could drool at the sight of him.
"come on, now." he bends over you, scooping you up with his arms circling around your waist and he pulls upwards. understanding, you wrap your legs around his middle and he bounces your body up against yours to situate you closer to him. he kisses you gently, lips molding to the shape of yours. you lose yourself in the embrace momentarily and wrap your legs tighter around him, intoxicated by the way eijirou's body feels against yours. he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. both of you breath heavily. he treks around the edge of the couch and into the kitchen and you're leaving butterfly kisses against the planes of his face. abruptly, he stumbles and you clutch onto him harder, eyes shut and ready to feel the both of you crash into the floor, but instead, you just end up pressed roughly into the refrigerator.
"oops." there comes a consoling kiss at your lips. then one against the smooth, sensitive skin of your neck. then one right above where your heart is. one of eijirou's hands is travelling up your back to the clasp of your bra and undoing it. you pull the straps down your arms and toss it away. he bows his head lower and licks along the swell of your breasts until he can pull a nipple into his mouth. he rolls the sensitive skin gently between his teeth and kneads the other one with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. your head lolls back as far as it can. you can feel eijirou's length pressed hard against you as he explores. you roll your hips down into him. his breath stutters against your skin. you feel him moving your panties to the side with the hand currently situated against your ass. you squirm. he peers at you with a dark gaze, too close to your face to be friendly.
"wanna fuck you right here." he begs.
"think of all the sauces that'll give their lives that i might get laid if you break my fridge."
"fine." he huffs patiently. you tighten your hold around him and press a sloppy kiss against his neck as eijirou continues on the pilgrimage to your bedroom.
he tosses you gently onto your bed and you lay on your stomach, pulling him to you with an outstretched hand. no words transpire between the two of you as you tug him close to stand at the foot of your bed. your hands dip into his boxers and the first thing that you feel isn't him, but the heat radiating off of his cock. you swallow thickly and wrap your hand around his length, slowly freeing him from the fabric. precum leaks from the head of his impossibly hard cock. you run the very tip of your finger over his slit and he shudders. you scoot up, bringing your head forward.
“oh fuck, that’s my good girl.” kirishima groans, hand guiding your head when you first try to take him all in your mouth. you’re only about half of the way down his shaft and his cock is already pressing against the back of your throat and you stay there for a second, willing yourself to take more of him. letting out a huff through your nose, you pull off of his shaft with a pop and start giving kitten licks to his head again before sinking your mouth back down again, this time being able to take his dick a little farther before you’re absolutely gagging. eijirou’s grip on your hair tightens and you wrap one of your hands around the base of him and stroke in time with your mouth. your gaze fixates on him from your laid-out position on your bed and you revel in the view of him with his head rolled back and the vein in his jaw twitching. you wiggle your hips side to side subtly and try to gain some relief from the desire that you feel puddling between your legs. you can feel his cock twitching in your mouth. you take him far down your throat again and he whines out, looking back down and meeting your darkened eyes.
"makin' me feel so good, goddamn." eijirou swears and notices you wiggling your hips and bends forward slightly to grab onto the fat of your ass. he palms the flesh there once, twice, before becoming so enthralled with the sight that he loses control of himself and is pressing harder down your throat than you can handle, causing you to choke a bit and startle him back to reality. he pulls back, grinning at you sheepishly, and swats at your asscheek lovingly. you whimper at the barely-there sting. he pulls back from your mouth. you sit up, cross your legs, and almost pout. all you want is skin to skin contact-to have eijirou fill you full. he notices your displeased look and the crease between your brow. it’s hard not to purr at the sight of him standing there, lazily fisting his cock.
“what’s wrong?“ his eyes are barely open and his breathing isn’t even when your hand replaces his, slowly stroking up and down. he’s so thick that your hand can barely wrap around his girth and your mouth waters.
“want you to fuck me now.” you bite down on your bottom lip nervously.
“i was gettin’ there.” he smiles and runs a finger down the side of your face.
“no.” you find your voice and put some backbone into it. “want you to fuck me right now.” eijirou’s eyes widen at the urgency in your tone. “needed it for so long.” you add on almost in a whisper.
“i thought you wanted for us to wait until the semester was over?” he recalls an earlier conversation the two of you had weeks earlier when making out had almost gotten too heavy.
“i did and now it’s over and now i need you, eiji.” you’re almost in tears at the desire and emotions running through you. you looked up into his cherry eyes and saw a lovesick mountain of a man looking back down at you. your hand stilled against his length and came to rest in your lap. you fought the violent urge to run your index finger through the slick pooling between your legs.
"so that's why you're bein' so hard to get along with, huh?" he coos. you feel his sturdy hands pushing you back into the smooth surface of your comforter and eijirou’s body covers your own. he left searing kisses down your jaw and the slight curve of your neck. you wrap your legs around him and play with the stray hairs at the nape of his neck in response. the contact is charged, laced with need and want. you're realizing at that moment that it's not enough. the lingering taste of him on your tongue is enough to motivate you into wiggling out from underneath him. he turns on his side, head coming to rest on his hand and stare at you in amusement. your sudden inability to be satisfied is amusing to him.
you push at his upper body and he follows where you lead him until he's laying flat on his back and staring up at you with lust filled eyes. you swing a leg over his waist so you're straddling him and you roll your slit against his length.
"fuck," you pant out and he grips your hips hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. eijirou cants his hips up to meet yours. you brace your arms against his chest and arch your back and momentarily chase your own high. you know that he's doing the same exact thing as he works his boxers the rest of the way down his legs. he pulls your torso down until it's flush against his and he has easy access to whisper in your ear.
"you still sure you want it this bad?" you nod against his forehead. he pulls your panties to the side.
eijirou has a hold of your hips as you line him up with your entrance. slowly, you start to lower yourself onto him and you hiss out as his cock journeys through your folds and pushes into you. eijirou cups your face in his hands and pushes your hair out your face. you can feel his breathing growing ragged underneath you. you lower yourself imperceptibly lower onto him. your breath catches in your throat. the stretch is almost too much.
you pause a moment and try to gather yourself. having eijirou filling you this full already felt so good but there was also the pain coupled with it. you try to push through it and manage to work yourself down about halfway before his thumb is circling your clit and his free hand is guiding you up and down. you can't even think, the feeling is so heavy and pervasive, but you're sure that nothing had ever felt as good as this. you tune into eijirou's pants and heavy breathing underneath you. gently, he's rocking his hips up to meet yours and it feels exponentially, if that was even possible, better than what you were doing. your arms turn to jelly and give out and you collapse onto his broad chest.
"wan' you to do it, feels better that way." you mumble into the empty space in the crook of his neck. his arm wrap tighter around your middle and you feel his dick twitch against your fluttering walls. if it feels this good now, you dare not even imagine what cumming feels like with him buried in you.
"gonna make you feel so good, baby." his hand strokes down your neck and he rolls his hips gently but slips further inside of you. you cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that hasn't ever been touched before. you babble out something incoherent and he repeats the action. your crimson fingernails curl violently into his chest and you register his sharp intake of breath but you just don't care as he keeps hitting the same spot inside of you over and over again. you feel like something inside of you is on the verge of breaking.
all you're capable of focusing on is the heavy drag of his cock in and out of your walls as he pounds up into you with little mercy. little white, twinkling spots are coating your vision as you nip harshly at the skin of his neck. abruptly, you're arching your back and calling out eijirou's name as a thick wave of warmth floods over you. his thrusts stutter briefly as you clamp down hard on his cock but then he's drilling into even faster and harder than before and you're only able to screw your eyes shut and babble his name over and over again at the new sensation you're feeling.
it might have been minutes or seconds that passed, but eijirou finally, mercilessly, buries himself to the hilt inside of you and lets out a deep groan. you feel him coating your insides with thick and hot spurts of his cum and you let out a squeak at the feeling. his hips finally still and you both lay there, panting, with eijirou still hard and buried deep in you. he kisses your cheek sweetly and leaves a stripe of sweat on your temple from his forehead.
"wanna do more of that." you have trouble speaking, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.
"well, lucky for you, we have all summer until you go to grad school."
description: shigaraki is tired, annoyed, and fed up with the goodness that you bring to the league of villains
content warnings: noncon (the reader is asleep at beginning), dubcon (just to be safe), masturbation, face fucking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, brief mention of butt stuff, panty stealing (but shig is very brazen about it), spitting, not proofread, shig is so mean :( very dark content. 18+ mdni (and no blank blogs) or you will get blocked.
authors note: literally dreamt this up the other night and writing it helped me get out of my writing slump so yeehaw i guess
song title from the elvis song
Shigaraki hated you. He hated the day that Toga introduced you to the rest of them, just another one of her strays that needed a home. He hated how he couldn’t tell if you truly believed in their cause or just had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t stand the way you looked at him with enormous doe eyes when he was explaining a plan to you and the others. He hated the way your smooth lips parted in concentration whenever you were carrying out one of his requests. More than anything, Shigaraki hated how painfully hard your pathetic loyalty made him.
He had never felt like this, red hot anger blooming across his chest and itchy palms that he couldn’t stop clutching into fists. If only he could get you to stop, get you to realize that he was a predator that ought not to be messed with instead of someone that you inexplicably fawned over every second you could. It made his boxers tighter than he liked. No amount of stroking his hand carefully across his length could get him to settle. You and those pretty lips he kept imagining shining with his saliva. Shigaraki was supposed to be better than this.
He hoped that watching you while he jerked off would sate him. It was what compelled him to creep into the little corner of the hideout that you had made your own and watch while you slept silently. You looked out of place on the ratty mattress, thin grey blanket falling off of your body where you had pulled one of your knees into your chest. The view made Shigaraki want to whistle. Just enough of Toga’s old shirt had ridden up to where he could see a flash of your cute little underwear. Your thumb was hooked against your bottom lip, right where there was a slight dip in the middle and he could hear your soft breaths. Stupid fucking tease.
Shigaraki spat in the palm of his hand and with his other hand, pulled his boxers down around his ass. He wrapped his hand around his length and gave himself a few slow languid strokes as he took in your features in the low glow of the room. A sick grin curled onto his features at the thought of you waking up to him standing over you with his cock only inches from your face. He could see your eyes moving underneath their lids and briefly, he wondered what you could be dreaming about. Probably more ways to make his life unbearable.
His hand sped up a bit to match the pace of your breathing and Shigaraki let out a long whine despite himself. He paused for a moment and watched with satisfaction as your eyes stopped moving beneath their lids and you blinked twice as you reacquainted yourself with your surroundings. It took a moment before your eyes registered him, but by that time, Shigaraki was already stroking his cock again, milky white precum making an appearance against the tip before being swept away by his fingers.
“S-shigaraki?” You asked sleepily as you wiped a fist across your eyes. You yawned and sat up on the mattress and that was when you first registered how close you were to Shigaraki and his cock. “What’re y’doin’?” You slurred, eyes more alert now as you watched him. His grip got tighter as he stroked himself. With his free hand, he beckoned you to sit up on your knees, which you did with no qualms and he hated it. He almost keened forward, hips bucking against his fist as you still watched him with those teasing fucking lips parted. Shigaraki couldn’t take it anymore.
Delicately, he pinched your sleep puffy cheeks between his thumb and index finger and you obediently opened your mouth wider for him. He stepped forward until his ankles were impeded by the edge of the mattress and then his hand deftly moved to the back of your head, pushing you closer to him. Shigaraki watched as your tongue darted out of your still open mouth to wet your lips, dry from sleep, and that was when he took his chance to press his cock forward into your mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your warm tongue dart around his head and your cheeks hollow out around him despite the fact that he didn’t ask permission for this, that he was intruding in your space. Not that he gave a fuck, you needed to be taught a lesson. He peeled his eyes open as he felt your head start to bob up and down and he couldn’t stand the innocent look you were giving him. Like he was your savior and this was something that was permissible. He growled low in the back of his throat and swatted your hand away when you tried to wrap it around the last few inches of his cock that you couldn’t fit into your mouth.
With blunt fingernails scratching against the back of your scalp, Shigaraki held your head in place as he forced himself all the way into your mouth and past the tight muscle of your throat. He liked the way tears beaded at the corner of your eyes and the way he could feel you struggling to breathe through your nose against the coarse grey hairs on his pelvis. Even more, he liked the way you choked when he pulled all the way out of your wet and pathetic mouth and thrust all the way back in without mercy. He kept repeating the action, drunk on the way you took him so well and the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling from your eyes.
“This is all you’re good for. All you’ll ever be good for, huh?” He spoke lowly, pace quickening with the frequency of the garbled noises coming from the back of your throat. He could feel your nails scraping against his thighs and heard what he thought was a muffled mmhm from the back of your throat. He felt his stomach tightening with the quick pace and the way that your tight throat felt around his length but you still weren’t getting it. Still didn’t understand that someone like you shouldn’t be here with someone like him. Shigaraki’s eyes darted to the ceiling to try and stave off his orgasm because, after all, you felt too damn good, but when he looked back down at you with drool falling down your chin and fat alligator tears mingling with the drool, he couldn’t stop from shooting hot white strings of semen down your throat. He pinched your nose closed to make sure you swallowed it all as he took a moment to catch his breath. His toes curled and uncurled against the dirty floor. Your breath hiccuped in your raw throat as you swallowed everything that he gave you. You sat back on your haunches, thighs rubbing together salaciously, and looked up at Shigaraki expectantly while you licked the rest of his fluids off of your lips and swiped at your eyes with the back of your hand.
It pissed him off.
He manhandled you against the mattress until your face was buried into the one pillow that you had and your ass was in the air. You could feel Shigaraki moving around on the mattress behind you and let out a quiet little whimper as you grew needier for his touch and your hot cunt pushed back against nothing. You mewled again when you felt Shigaraki’s cold fingers pull your underwear to the side. Perversely, you could feel the strings of your slick following on the fabric and his long fingers slipping through them and against your cunt.
“Stupid bitch doesn’t even know that she should be scared.” Shigaraki mused more to himself than you as he pressed his middle finger into your heat and curled the digit against your stomach. Your hips rutted back against his touch and just as quickly as his finger was in you, it was gone again. Quickly, it was replaced by the pressure of his hot and heavy head pressing into your wet pussy. Your breath caught in your throat and your chest didn’t move again until Shigaraki had fully seated himself inside of you. All you could do was whimper and feel how overwhelming the stretch was, like you might catch on fire.
“Think y-you’re too big,” You mumbled against the pillow and Shigaraki harshly grabbed onto the plush skin of your hips, where your thighs bent.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll shove it in your ass instead.” He snarled from behind you and using the palms of his hand, rocked your hips forward and pulled you back down onto his cock hard. You were squeezing him almost too tight, but he didn’t care, instead choosing to focus on the way the meat of your ass jiggled while he used you to fuck himself.
“Please, please, ‘s too big, Shig-“ You started in a high pitched whine but not before Shigaraki’s palm came down across the side of your face and pushed you down into the mattress harder.
“A stupid bitch like you can take me, ‘specially with how wet you are.” As if to prove his point, he pulled out of your soaked cunt and ran the blindingly hot tip of his cock against your slit where your ears were met with the sound of how ruined you were.
He pushed back inside of you, this time the pain slightly less and you could feel a spring tightening in your lower stomach as Shigaraki fucked you so hard and deep you thought you might never walk again. You started pushing your hips back to meet his and soon the shitty room you were in was filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping skin and Shigaraki’s shameless moans while he used your body to meet his own ends. You could feel him thrusting against every part of you and your eyes started rolling back in your head while his thrusts got more erratic and irregular. Your moans and pleasured mewls were almost incessant and you could feel his cock beginning to twitch inside of you.
“Dumb fuckin’…bitch in heat,” Shigaraki punctuated each word with a harsh thrust right up against your cervix and then you were seeing stars, body going lax as the spring inside of you got knocked loose and flew around your body. It didn’t matter that the rest of the League could hear everything that was transpiring. You were too far gone. All you could see was white on your vision while you came down from your high. When you were almost recovered, barely able to hold your hips up while Shigaraki kept up his brutal pace, he came inside of you with no warning except the twitching of his heavy cock.
You slumped against the mattress, not entirely sure of what just happened, but relaxed against your better judgement nonetheless. You could hear Shigaraki fixing his boxers behind you, and then his cold fingers pulling your panties back over your sore cunt. Instead of feeling the mattress dip as he took his leave, you instead felt his fingers gliding over your clothed cunt and pressing the fabric deep into your entrance. You whined at the overstimulation but Shigaraki just swatted at your ass and he pulled your underwear down and off your shakey legs. It was then that you felt the mattress dip as he stood.
You started to roll over and watch him leave through your half-lidded eyes, but when you did, you were met with a warm glob of spit landing on the side of your cheek and his dark chuckles as he retreated from your space with your underwear clutched in his fingers.
description: your dad dies suddenly and you've never gotten along with your mother. when she announces that she's marrying shouta aizawa, you come up with a plan to ruin their marriage and fall for him in the process.
content warnings: stepdad!aizawa, adult stepdaughter!reader, cheating/infidelity, age gap, jealousy, emotional manipulation, parental loss, grief, descriptions of anxiety attack, mentions of vomit/bile (non-sexual), unprotected sex, spit, oral sex (f!receiving), use of petnames (baby girl), alcohol consumption, recreational drug use, "pranks" that a health department definitely wouldn't approve of, nobody in this is a morally good person. dark content. 18+ mdni (and no blank blogs) or you will get blocked.
authors note: i ended up going balls to the wall and this was 30 pages in google docs :) anyways this is like a series of stepdad!aizawa and angst and it's not the best but it's my favorite thing that i've posted so far
title is from wicked game by chris isaak
songs important for the plot/vibes: wicked game by chris isaak, i don't wanna be an asshole anymore by the menzingers, derailed by the menzingers, karma police by radiohead, you've got to hide your love away by eddie vedder (this is a beatles anti account no i will not be engaging in discourse about it at this time)
You had never experienced a fall from grace. You had always been the pretty little girl-smart, sweet, happy-go-lucky, and the apple of her daddy’s eye. You were convinced you were an angel right here on earth. To your dear dad, there was nothing wrong that you could ever do. Any time you broke one of his loosely defined rules like “no staying out past nine” or “no bickering with your mother while I'm gone on this work trip,” all it took was batting your eyelashes and a noncommittal apology before you were back in his good graces. You were your daddy’s girl, through and through. It didn’t matter to either of you that you were spoiled rotten.
It was probably why your own mother never liked you much.
It started like any other growing pains-your mother and you would squabble over little things, like not wanting to hold her hand when she took you grocery shopping or preferring your dad giving you piggyback rides over her. Then, as you grew up, it morphed into crying in fitting rooms while your mom found new things about you to criticize which eventually led you to shutting her out as much as you could both physically and emotionally.
It was, and you entertained this thought quite frequently, why your darling father died. For three days straight, he complained of chest pains that wouldn’t let up and all your mother would offer to him was over-the-counter painkillers and only cursory words of comfort. She was too busy, or spiteful, to encourage him to go to the hospital. On the fourth morning of that fateful week, you woke up to your mother screaming and your dad not waking up no matter how you shook him. You barely remembered that day-it passed in a blur of paramedics and flowers and tears.
You could remember feeling anger. Anger that would probably last the rest of your life. Anger that would be known across the centuries. There was nothing else quite like it.
You losing your father so suddenly was the beginning of you having to learn how to fall from grace and clip your wings back. You had to learn how to be alone. You had done your research on the grieving process and no matter how long it had been, there came a point where you were bitter and angry and just stagnated there. In a moment of pure hopelessness, you rejected your offer of admission from the university your father had dreamed of you attending since you were a baby. Your mother blanched when you told her, no doubt angered by the fact that you’d be hanging around the house like a black cloud full time now instead of halfway across the country and out of her hair. So she gave you an ultimatum. Either attend classes at the local college or get a job. If you were going to stay at home, the least you could do was be productive. It was how she reasoned with you. You had half expected her to kick you out when she called you into the kitchen to talk but then you remembered-she had an image to uphold. How would it look to the other executives of her firm if she kicked her only daughter out onto the streets so soon after her father died?
Begrudgingly, you enrolled in classes at the local college. You only took just enough credit hours to be considered a full-time student and even then, you never put much effort into your work. It was a rarity if you ever turned any assignments in on time and even rarer still was your actually showing up to your classes. It was a joke to you when you would proudly display your essays with failing grades on the refrigerator. What was the point in trying anymore? Your hero-your real hero was dead and buried. There was no one around to appreciate your efforts anymore.
Halfway into your first semester of your laughable college career, your mother met Mr. Aizawa. Part-time teacher and hero. You didn’t really know how they had met and you didn’t care to know. You had scrunched up your nose in disgust when your mom waltzed into the living room on a Friday afternoon and announced that he would be coming over for dinner that same night. The thought of some man intruding in your father’s house and sitting where he had sat made your blood boil with rage but you kept a calm demeanor for the time being if only for your own sake.
It was a short time later that night that the doorbell rang and you resentfully went to answer it. For some reason, you expected the spitting image of your father to be standing there. Instead, you found a tall, slight man with black hair and a scar underneath his eye. From the way your mother described him, you expected someone more exceptional. You huffed and leaned against the front door, not moving to let him in. You both stood and appraised each other like two gunfighters getting ready for a duel. He broke first and shifted slightly and that was when you noticed the flowers in his hand.
“If you’re at the point where you’re coming over for dinner, you should know that my mom hates that type of flower.” You were nonchalant as you crossed your arms over your chest.
“They’re for you, actually.” Mr. Aizawa extended his arm out towards you and you regarded the small bouquet of daisies with disinterest. You didn’t want him to know that they were your favorite. Still, you took it. There was something strangely endearing about him already-but he didn’t have to know that.
“Wasting money on flowers for me isn’t gonna make me forget that you’re fucking my mom.” You were just trying to get a rise out of him. All you succeeded in making him do was quirk an eyebrow up at you and shove his hands deep in the pockets of his slacks. Mr. Aizawa was so…un-heroic. It almost made you laugh.
Your mother’s voice calling you from the kitchen interrupted your appraisal of the man before you. You opened the door wider and silently invited him in. You led him to the dining room where your mother was making up three plates for dinner. Something about seeing three plates at the table again made bile rise in your throat. You watched as your mother greeted Mr. Aizawa with a kiss on the cheek and a light hug. “Shouta,” she had called him warmly. The bile still swam in your throat.
You barely made it through dinner and the small talk without vomiting. You pushed your food around your plate without committing to eating a single bite. There was anxious energy in the air and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why until both your mother and Shouta stopped eating and kept glancing back and forth at each other. You tried to gauge what was going on from the corner of your eye, but it was your mother calling your name that finally pulled you into the fray.
“We have some news to share with you,” Your mother and Shouta were holding hands lightly across the table and you could tell that whatever was next to come out of your mother’s mouth would be far from good. “We’re getting married!”
The world fell out from underneath you. You had the edge of the chair that you sat on in a vice grip. Surely you hadn’t heard her correctly.
“What did you just say?” You couldn’t recognize your own voice and Shouta simply watched the scene unfold from his place at the table. He toyed with the handle of his fork.
“I said that we’re getting married! Isn’t that great news, angel?” Your mother was using the voice that she reserved for when strangers were around but she really wanted to scream at you. You grit your back molars together so hard that you could practically hear them squeaking.
“Don’t you ever, ever, call me that again. You know that dad was the only one that could use that name with me. Speaking of dad, couldn’t you wait until he was dead and buried for at least a few months longer before bringing another man into his house?” Shouta held his composure like a statue as you growled across the table at your mother. Something in you was satisfied that he wasn’t running to her aid. Still, static churned loudly in your ears as you waited for her response.
“Don’t I deserve to be happy?” She was embarrassed by the way you were acting.
“No.” The admission damned you.
You got up from where you sat and your mother followed suit. Shouta was the last to rise. You looked between the two of them and barked out a laugh to hide the sweltering tears that wanted to fall.
“You’re pathetic,” You whispered coolly into your mother’s ear as you pushed your way in between the couple on your way to the front door. You had to get out before the walls closed in on you, and they were closing in fast.
You were in such a rush to escape the scene that it wasn’t until you were outside stumbling down the sidewalk and sucking in air that you didn’t know you had been deprived of that you realized you weren’t wearing any shoes. You stopped and rubbed the bare skin of your feet against the cement and shivered at the way it tickled. At least it was something to focus on other than the betrayal. You weren’t really surprised that your mom pulled something like this, but it still stung. You didn’t buy into the whole “your dad would want your mom to be happy” sentiment that family friends poured into your ears in the weeks after your father’s death. What your father deserved was happiness. Not your mother and the stray cat she probably found at the train station. You chuckled out loud as you thought of Mr. Aizawa like that.
In all honesty, he didn’t look like he belonged anywhere and it was hard for you to believe that he split his time between being a teacher and a hero. Still, throughout dinner, there was something about his eyes that kept entrancing you. Maybe your mother was onto something with him.
“You’re gonna get a splinter in your foot if you keep it up.” The monotone voice came from behind you and you slowly turned to see your mother’s suitor situated against the darkness of the night. You glared at him.
“What do you care?” You had to remember that while Shouta wasn’t the enemy, he was still on the opposing team.
“I don’t care, but it seems kind of silly to go and get hurt just for the hell of it.” You lifted an eyebrow at his statement.
“That’s funny coming from a hero,” You stop to look him up and down. “Especially one with as many scars as you have.”
“With my work, at least there’s usually some kind of outcome at the end.” He steps over to perch on a bench underneath a short tree. You cross your arms over your chest and try not to shiver in the cool night air.
“Who’s to say I wasn’t headed towards my own outcome?” Shouta just stares at you. You can tell he’s willing to let you talk yourself in circles and you take the bait. “What outcome do you think you’re gonna have with my mother?”
“I think I’m gonna marry your mom and get a stepdaughter with a horrible attitude problem out of the deal.” Shouta smirks over at you after a second and it’s the first time in a while that you feel yourself crack a genuine smile.
“You think you’re funny.” You say, trying to fight the edges of your lips back down into a frown.
“Not funny, just observant.” His smile is wider now and it’s almost enough to make the weight on your heart not so heavy.
“Why did you ask my mom to marry you in the first place?”
“I didn’t ask her.” His eyes shift down to the ground and then back up to you.
“What do you mean?”
“She asked me on one of our dates. I thought it was respectable. I think your mother would be good to settle down with before I get too old.” You snort at his answer.
“You think it’s respectable to marry a widow whose husband has been dead less than a year with a maladjusted daughter thrown in the mix?”
“I could do without the maladjusted daughter.” There’s that mischievous grin again and you can feel something inside of you start to crack that you hadn’t felt at all since your father died. It makes you woozy.
“I could do without her too.”
The wedding is planned relatively quickly. It’s a small enough affair to be held in a backyard garden and the day is sunny despite the turmoil you feel raging inside of you. You had been awake since the early hours of the morning, switching between fuming that your mother was actually going through with getting married to someone you both hardly knew and twirling around in front of your bathroom mirror in the dress that you had picked out for the ceremony.
With your hair and makeup done for the first time in an eternity, you felt quite stunning. It was your vanity that led you to being more cruel than usual to your mom.
It wasn’t like she didn’t deserve it, but even the words slipping off of your tongue felt like they sliced right through the muscle. Your mother called your name harshly as you held her gaze in the big mirror in her bathroom but still, Shouta failed to truly come to her defense. You were satisfied with that. You thought momentarily that maybe he might have agreed with your statement that, “Oh mom, you look beautiful. It’s just a shame that you’re a cunt on the inside.”
You left your mother’s room to the sound of Shouta offering warm words of consolation, could have sworn you heard him offer, “It makes sense that she’s still angry.” You bit your tongue to hide your grin when you heard him fail to refute what you had said.
You made your way out into the garden covered in lavender and honeysuckle to mingle among the few guests who had shown up. You kept a crystal champagne glass in your hand as you greeted your cousins and extended family. You relished in introducing yourself as “Shouta’s stepdaughter” to the few of his work colleagues that were in attendance. The fleeting appreciative glances that they gave weren’t lost on you and slowly, the cogs of your mind started to mingle with the champagne you drank and as the ceremony started, you started to formulate a plan to ruin your mother’s new marriage. Set it on fire and watch it burn to ash. All it would take was breaking Shouta down and stealing him from her and if there was one thing you knew how to do, it was how to get your way.
After the ceremony came the reception and chairs were cleared away and tables were moved around to allow guests to dance and mingle with each other. You sat by yourself with a sour feeling hanging over your heart. Your mother had actually been cruel enough to get remarried. Their vows and the kiss they shared played over and over again as you sipped on your champagne. The anger was exhausting. Nothing would have been better in that moment than being able to run into the arms of your father and cry to him about everything that was going wrong.
There came a light tap on your shoulder. Slowly, you angled your head to see who was intruding on your bubble of misery. Shouta. He was well put-together, all slicked back hair and an uncharacteristic happy grin. You remembered your own vow from earlier and painted a matching toothy grin on your face. Your eyes flicked down to the hand that he held out towards you.
“Would you like to dance?” You looked at him in confusion.
“What, you know how to dance?”
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me.” Oh, you hoped there were. Still, he smiled pleasantly at you.
“Okay, one dance and you can list off all the things I don’t know about you. For vetting purposes.” Being sweet to him was all part of the plan.
“I think it’s a little too late for vetting now.” He replied as you placed your hand in his and stood up. His hand was large and warm compared to your own. You toyed with the urge to fully lace your fingers through his as he led you to the impromptu dance floor. The song playing was nice and mid-tempo and the lyrics were saying something schmaltzy about love. Shouta held you at a respectable arms distance as the two of you swayed to the music. You could hear little coos of adoration from the couples dancing around the two of you. It fuelled you as you looked up, wide-eyed, at Shouta. He opened his mouth for a second too long before closing it quickly and you cocked your head to the side before running a hand up his bicep. His forehead creased almost imperceptibly.
“What were you gonna say?” You used your most innocent voice, the one that always worked on your dad.
“I know you don’t like when it gets brought up, but uh, I feel really fortunate that your mom came into my life and I’m gonna try my best to be a good role model for you.” The soft smile on your face stuttered as you thought of him trying to replace your father. You managed to stay strong and fight through the feeling. You weren’t mad at Shouta, not really. Just cautious. You needed him on your side to get back at your mom. However, there was something saccharine and sugary and enthralling about the man that stood in front of you. He seemed like someone who could take all of your troubles away if you would let him. As Shouta spun you around to hide his own bashfulness, you decided that he was something you had to have regardless of the ruination of your mother’s relationship.
It was okay if you had a little crush on him as you went about your plan.
You had seven days to yourself; one hundred and sixty-eight hours to be exact. Time seemed to eke by as you split your time between decaying on the couch and finding inconsequential things around the house to make your mom’s life just a bit harder when she returned from her honeymoon. Hair removal cream found its way into her shampoo. Gently used mouthwash found its way back into the bottle. Files in her home office subtly found their way to new homes. All of your pranks were plausibly deniable, of course, and something told you that Shouta would come to your defense.
You were angry after all and you planned to play into that as much as you could with him. He wouldn’t want to rock the boat and get on your bad side so soon after getting married, would he? He didn’t seem like the type of person to want to stick his nose somewhere that it didn’t belong.
As you milled about the empty house on your vacation from your mother, you did more research on your new stepfather. Eraserhead. There wasn’t much to be found on him aside from some news clips with him in the background, long hair floating wildly around his head. At first, you couldn’t believe that the same man holding off hordes of villains was the same man who asked you to dance and vowed to be a good man only days prior. He didn’t seem all that remarkable in his everyday life, but perhaps that was how he wanted it. You kept thinking back to the way he bashfully smiled at you and even though you were alone, you felt blood rush to your cheeks.
Last night as you laid in bed, your mind drifted to what it might be like if he laid on top of you, in between your legs-taking care of you in a different way than what he had meant when you danced together. Your mind had raced as you imagined what his kisses must be like, what it might be like for him to hold you down and make you squirm. It was enough for you to get off, lips parted in a delicious whine as your own fingers pushed in and out of you. You didn’t feel any kind of shame. Shouta deserved better than your mother and even if he might not ever fully grasp that, the least that you could do was sow the seeds of discontent in his mind.
Your musings were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlocking and suitcases scraping past the threshold. You finished gathering a spoonful of peanut butter from the jar and turned to lean against the counter. So, your time alone has finally come to a close. Your mother would ascertain that there would be no more walking around half-naked in front of her new husband, but there was time for one last performance at least.
You brushed one edge of your oversized sweater off of your shoulder, leaving you clad in only your underwear and the cardigan that hung from your frame. You patiently listened to the scuffle of luggage being moved around as you popped the spoon of peanut butter into your mouth. Shouta appeared around the corner and threw his jacket over one of the dining room chairs. He took notice of you immediately.
“We made it back safely!” His words sounded incredibly lame and he never broke his gaze from your eyes. You batted your eyelashes prettily at him as you pulled the spoon from your mouth.
“I can see that.” You were amused at him attempting to make small talk as you deadpanned back at him.
“Our trip was actually really neat. I think your mom took some pictures if you wanna look at them sometime.” Shouta had barely gotten the sentence out of his mouth before your mother was entering the kitchen and her eyes had gone just about the size of Pluto. Your full name sprung from her lips in a shriek.
“You know better than that! Go put some clothes on!” Her words echoed in the now abject silence of the kitchen before you broke out in spiteful laughter and put your dirty spoon in the sink. As you went to leave, still laughing ruefully, you could see an embarrassed blush rising up Shouta’s neck and that had made it all worth it. Your laughter wound down to breathless chuckles as you made it to the hallway and as you paused for a minute to catch your breath, you listened as Shouta once again came to your defense to the tune of, “Honey, it’s okay. She just has to get used to a man being in the house again.”
It’s a relatively easy decision for you to start working out to have more in common with Shouta, even though you’re not very good at it. It made sense that he’d work out. He was a hero and surely the job would be made all the harder if he didn’t have the physique to back it up. At the very least, Shouta seemed like he worked out just enough to be strong for the job.
His morning schedule is still a mystery to you, so you start to wake up early religiously each morning to work out in the living room within full view of the kitchen. It just so happens that you’re there on your little yoga mat in your sports bra and athletic shorts struggling your way through your second set of squats, when you hear someone moving around in the kitchen. You move your head to the side just enough to see Aizawa appraising you from the counter. You keep up with your routine and try to fight the smirk on your face. You really give an earnest effort to your workout now but you stop when you hear his gruff morning voice.
“Your form is wrong.” You look over to where he stands, shirtless, pouring a cup of coffee. You’re out of breath and the sight doesn’t help. You stand up to your full height and face him.
“How is it wrong?” You try to hide your breathlessness and the way your tongue wants to stick to the roof of your mouth. He sets his mug on the edge of the counter and crosses over to you. His fingertips airily trace over your spine first. You almost jolt forward at the unexpected touch.
“Your back is too curved. Keep your shoulders back like this,” He tugs your shoulders back until you can feel your spine straighten out. “and your feet are too far apart.” He nudges your feet closer together by a few inches. You let him move you around like a ragdoll for a few moments more. Finally, he steps in front of you and considers your new form.
“Try it now and see how it feels.” He instructs and you feel incredibly goofy as you go through the motions, his measured gaze never leaving you. You have to admit, the squats feel better now and less like you’re fighting your own body. When you rise to your full height again, you stand with your legs together and cross your arms across your chest.
“That was better.” You confirm, trying to catch your breath. Shouta smiles gently at you and you want to scratch at your skin for the way it makes you feel.
“I’m going on a run in a little bit, you should come with me.” He invites and all you want to do is glug down a gallon of water and collapse onto the floor, but then you remember your solemn vow to yourself and you accept his invitation. It’s all in the name of ruining your mother’s happiness after all.
There wasn’t a lot you knew about heroes. When you were younger, you had a passionate interest in All Might, but so did every other kid in the country. There wasn’t anything special about that.
You were content enough to leave the life-saving to the specially trained heroes. You knew you didn’t have the resolve or compassion to make it as a hero yourself. Still, it was an occupation that you respected from afar. Now, it was something that you got to observe up close every time Shouta came wandering home. Most of his shifts were at night, after everyone was in bed. It was when the real villains could play. Regardless of everything, you admired his ability to train a new generation of heroes during the day and still go out to patrol the streets and rooftops most nights.
You wouldn’t admit it cognizantly to yourself, but you found yourself adapting to wake up whenever you would hear the front door click shut in the small hours of the morning. You would peel yourself out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders as you crept to the end of your hallway to watch Shouta. His goggles would always be pushed up around his forehead. His stubble would always be more prominent than usual. The dim light from the stove in the kitchen always made his eyes look more exhausted than they probably were. From your hiding spot, you would watch him pour a glass of water and sip on it at the kitchen table until his head got too heavy for him to hold up. You would wait until you could hear his gentle snores wafting over to your ears and then you would tiptoe over like you were in church and wrap your blanket around his shoulders. You would work his goggles off of the crown of his head and sit them gently on the table next to him before running your fingers through his silky hair. Your stomach always tingled. You always wanted to duck your head down and place warm kisses on his hairline.
You never noticed his eyes, very much awake, on you as you retreated back to your room.
The thing with time is that it was supposed to heal wounds. Except for you it didn’t. You kept hoping every day that you would wake up and find that you would care a little bit less about the loss of your dad. Maybe even be able to compartmentalize it and get on with your life, get your grades up and transfer schools and move out on your own. Still, you woke up every morning with a deep seated hole in your chest. It was assuaged in little pieces by the family portraits hung around the house. A family picture of your first birthday here. A picture of you and your dad at an awards ceremony there. The little remnants of your dad around the house helped to serve as a reminder that you were still human, as hard as it was some days.
Until one day the pictures weren’t there anymore.
You tore into a blind rage, your mom and Shouta watching from the kitchen as you threw the television remote at the wall. A novel was flung all the way against the refrigerator in the kitchen. You screamed like your head was being torn off. It went on and on until you tired yourself out and sat on the couch to sob embarrassedly, face hidden in your hands.
You tuned into the whispers emanating from the kitchen. You caught onto your mother telling Shouta that it was time for you to move on, that you were an adult and needed to stop relying on your emotions to guide you. Your hands balled into fists. What did she know? Your head cleared only by a fraction when you heard Shouta answer that maybe taking down the pictures wasn’t the right way to go about things.
You sat on the couch crying for so long that you didn’t realize when the two of them left. You stood, as if on autopilot, and gathered your materials for the classes that you had that day and departed, not caring how you looked, but just needing to get out of the house.
When you returned that afternoon, the pictures of you and your dad sat in brand new frames on your bed.
It was no secret that you had more friends in high school. You were near the top of your class and always managed to stay on top of gossip and the happenings around school. You missed hanging out with your girlfriends when you were happy, before they all went off to the schools they had been dreaming of for years. You were jealous of them and felt spiteful anytime they would post pictures of the great times they were having on their social media. It didn’t matter that you self-imposed your own exile to wallow in your bitterness. You were envious that your friends were able to fool around with frat boys when all you seemed to attract were the bottom-of-the-barrell burnouts from your college. Not that you were much better than them these days.
You spent too many weekends holed up in the apartments of your new friends, smoking weed and watching them play video games just for something interesting to do. It almost made you want to turn your life back around and get back on track. Almost, but not quite.
So when you heard of a party happening one weekend, you jumped at the chance to go and rallied your friend group to go with you so you wouldn’t look like so much of a loser.
When you are ready to leave, Shouta and your mother are having an intimate date night in the dimly lit kitchen, sharing wine and giggling at each other over things you can’t make sense of. You wonder what they have in common. Your mother makes you sick to your stomach but a green claw of unbridled jealousy seizes at your chest when you hear the subtle bedroom lilt to Shouta’s voice and when you see how his hand reaches up to push a lock of hair off your mother’s shoulder. You shake off the feeling and enter the kitchen in earnest, dressed in a skimpy outfit that makes your mother’s eyes pop out of her head. You can tell without even looking at her from years of professionally annoying her. You completely ignore Shouta-don’t even give him a spare glance as you walk by the two on your way to the front door.
“Where are you going?” You hear your mother call as you reach for the door handle.
“Out with my friends,” Is all you offer up before you’re gone.
And the party isn’t bad, the music is loud and there’s enough alcohol to placate you for the evening. Even your friends seem like they’re having a good time as they mill about in the crowd. There are just enough people that you don’t know there for you to get comfortably drunk. It’s a good way for you to finally unwind, you think, as you step unsteadily into the messy kitchen. You’re trying to pour yourself another drink when a spindly hand comes out of nowhere and takes your cup from you and finishes preparing your drink.
“I was doing just fine pouring my own drink.” You pout at your friend that you arrived with from the opposite side of the counter and he circles around to stand next to you, too close for what you were comfortable with.
“Nice girls shouldn’t be pouring their own drinks.” He drawls and it was smooth, but you clench your teeth and take the cup from his hand.
“‘m not a nice girl.”
“Sure you are. You just spend a lot of time pretending that you aren’t.” His cool breath is ghosting next to your ear and you’re just the perfect amount out of your right mind to let your eyes close and let your head lean into the feeling. Your mind is a television screen and it’s flickering through what it would feel like to have Aizawa in the same position, doing the exact same thing.
“If I was such a nice girl, I wouldn’t be hanging out with you, huh?” You lower your voice just enough for only him to hear and then he’s laughing in your ear and his slight torso is pressing against your back and it’s all too easy for you to envision Shouta in his place. Your heart is thumping in your chest, probably so heavily that he can feel it clear through to his chest. Then his nose is pressing against the smooth skin of your neck and his lips are ghosting against you and you can’t help but grip the edge of the counter with your hand that isn’t holding your drink. “Fuck, do that again,” you whisper and press more into his hold, grinding back against the man as his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, hand cradling the opposite side of your head to give him more room. His teeth bite against your skin roughly and you can’t stop the sound that escapes your mouth. It only serves to egg him on, encouraging him to bite and suck at your neck more fervently. Your eyes are shut tight with images of Shouta absolutely ruining you running through your head. It’s not fair to your friend, not in the least, but you warned him that you weren’t a nice girl in the first place. You can feel him hard against your back and that’s enough to startle you out of your reverie. You push him off of you and you can’t turn to look him in the eye.
“I gotta go…find something else to do,” You parse out and walk on unsteady legs out of the kitchen and back into the music-filled living room. The dancing and drinking is still going heavy but your mood is somber now. You want to be home and you don’t care what it takes to get there as you finish your final drink in only a few sips and set it on the porch steps as you leave the house.
You weren’t very far from home and despite your level of intoxication, you knew you could get home without forgetting the way. You pulled off the heels that you wore and dangled them from your fingers as you trekked home in the dark. It was hard to keep your mind from your stepfather-the gentle way he cradled your mother’s face in his large palm while he smiled at her and the way he poured more wine for her without her having to ask. You clenched your jaw. That should have been you. Your mother didn’t deserve such a good thing-such a handsome thing. If you had any say in the matter, and by heaven, you would weasel your way in any way you could, Aizawa would be yours and her heart would be broken. It was only fair, he seemed to be the only thing capable of mending the shattered and torn pieces of your angry little heart. You were so fucked.
You were so fucked and lovesick thinking about him as you walked back into your house that you didn’t even register all the noise you were making as you bumped from wall to wall trying to get back to your bedroom. Maybe you were more drunk than you originally thought. You heard Shouta’s voice calling your name from just outside of your cracked bedroom door what felt like seconds after you entered. All you could do was stand there and sway as he watched you from the doorway.
He was clad in flannel pajama pants and nothing else and his hair was messier than usual and you frowned at the sight. It was obvious. He was too relaxed. He had fucked your mother at some point after you left and that made dread settle into your stomach. You wanted to vomit. Shouta was your territory, didn’t she know? Still, you grinned at him like a child trying to get out of trouble. He appraised you, looking you up and down, and you wanted there to be more to his gaze than there was.
“You’re drunk.” It was a statement of fact and it rolled off his tongue weightlessly. You weren’t in trouble.
“I don’t think I am,” You licked your lips and over pronounced every syllable. Your tongue was liquid in your mouth. He barked out an amiable laugh and stepped into your room proper. You were glued to the spot as your heart started to race not for the first time that night.
“Sit down, I’ll get your pajamas.” Aizawa’s warm hand was on your upper arm and guided you to sit down on the edge of your bed. Your skin prickled in his grasp as you let him guide you. Your entire body felt like you were a past-done spaghetti noodle.
“They’re in the top drawer,” You offered up as he looked, a little lost, around your room. You bit the tip of your tongue in between your front teeth to stop from grinning too hard. You liked him taking care of you.
You watched as he dug through your dresser and grabbed a big t-shirt and pair of shorts. He folded the articles neatly in his hands and crossed the room back to your bedside where he placed the pajamas in your lap. You were about to open your mouth to thank him when he took your chin into two of his fingers and pulled your head to the side gently. Your skin buzzed underneath his touch as he ran the tip of his rough pointer finger over the bruise on your neck that you had pretended Shouta had left there in the first place.
“You’ve been lettin’ boys kiss on you?” He questions teasingly and your stomach clenches so hard you almost can’t reply.
“Uh, not here,” you swipe your thumb across your bottom lip, “just there.” The reply made sense in your head. You nod your head against the finger on your neck.
“Well, at least you’re having fun.” Aizawa laughs in earnest, if a little awkwardly, and then his touch is gone from your skin.
“Not really,” You admit and start to take note of how the room is spinning but you take pains to keep from slurring your words. Shouta raises up an eyebrow at you.
“Would rather be kissing boys properly, y’know?” There’s a nervous titter between the two of you.
“Okay,” he chuckles out, hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Just don’t let your mom see.” You feel compelled by some force of nature to keep talking despite the voice in the back of your head screaming at you to just shut up and go to sleep.
“Would you kiss me?” The words slither out of your mouth as if they were lava and the room isn’t spinning anymore, but upending itself over and over again in the corner of your vision as you watch a stricken look cross over Aizawa’s face.
“I’m your stepdad and I think you need to remember that, baby girl.” He instructs and you hate the way that he sounds like he’s talking to a wounded animal that’s been stuck in a trap.
“But if you weren’t? What if I was just…somebody that you knew?”
“I think you need to put on your pajamas and go to sleep before you talk yourself into hurting your own feelings.” Your eyes felt watery and weak. You felt bile rising in your throat and started to panic.
“Fuck, you’re gonna throw up, aren’t you?” Aizawa registered the seasick look on your face and was hoisting you up by your arms and hauling you into the bathroom before you could even nod your head in confirmation. It was a good thing, at least, that he was in his right mind, because you unleashed the contents of your stomach into the toilet not even a second after your knees connected sharply with the tile of the floor. For once, you were thankful for throwing up, because then you could blame the tears welling out of the corners of your eyes on that.
The shit-faced debacle passed blessedly without much mention. You and Shouta went about your daily lives without bringing up how he held your hair back for you and sat next to you while you cried about missing your dad into the toilet seat. Somehow, even through you blubbering mindlessly about how much your dead dad meant to you, you didn’t let anything slip about your plan to ruin your mother’s marriage or your stupid infatuation with the man himself.
For the past week, you had regarded each other cordially from opposite sides of whatever room you were in together. You would nod in acknowledgement of each other when you poured coffee at the same time in the morning or when you were coming back from studying and he was headed out on some hero’s errand that you really didn’t care about enough to understand. But now, it was the weekend and you were holed up in your room with a joint and a half-done essay to prevent a repeat of last Friday night.
Loud music and smoke filled your room as you sat on the floor with your laptop and tried to make sense of the argument you were making on paper. For the first time in your college career, you were trying to apply yourself. Secretly, you enjoyed the warm smile that Shouta had given you earlier in the week when you had hung a paper with a passing grade scribbled at the top on the refrigerator. You wanted a repeat performance.
The steady clacking of your nails against laptop keys was interrupted by a knock at your door. You turned your music down slightly and tapped the ash off of your joint as you called for whoever was knocking to come in. Your door swung open quickly and Shouta propped himself against the door frame. You turned your music down lower.
“What are you doing at home on a Saturday night listening to “Karma Police” all by yourself?” He questioned and you rubbed your dry eyes.
“I have a dead dad. I’m entitled to my sadness.” You deadpanned and laughed after a second. The melodrama hadn’t started to get old yet.
“I mean…that’ll do it.” You raised your eyebrows up at him, wondering why he had come to your room in the first place. Shouta cleared his throat and stepped into your room before sitting down on the floor like you were. “You sure you don’t wanna go out and hang out with people your own age?” He crosses his legs as you take one last pull off of your joint before squishing it out on the ashtray next to your knee.
“I was trying to finish this paper, actually.”
“Oh yeah? What’s it on?” You half expected Shouta to say something about the smoke.
“Heroes and ethics or something like that.”
“And you didn’t want my opinion?”
“I like doing things on my own.”
“So you don’t wanna watch a movie with me, then?” There’s that mischievous smile on his face again that makes your heart feel like a galloping horse.
“You could ask my mom.”
“She’s out at a dinner.” You type up one last sentence and hum in acknowledgement of his statement.
“What kind of old man movie do you want me to watch with you?”
“Terminator.”
“Properly retro.” You affirm, closing the lid of your laptop and standing up. “Let’s go, then.” You hold out your hand to Shouta and help him up from the floor. You half expect to hear his knees pop in their sockets as he stands. You lead the way into the living room and sit down on the couch while he pulls up the movie with the television remote. He settles on the couch opposite from you. You’re startled by the overwhelming want to lean your head against his t-shirt clad chest.
“Have you ever thought about getting a cat?” He asks casually as the opening credits roll, remote clinking down onto the coffee table.
“Mom’s not a big cat person.” There’s a quick pause. “I used to have one a long time ago. Dad and I found it behind a trash can. I named it All Might.” Shouta snorted a laugh at your admission.
“Why’d you name that poor cat All Might?” He pulled a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and fluffed it over his legs. You stared at the simple action. Shouta clocks you from the corner of his eye but you don’t realize.
“I had a crush on All Might when I was little.” You were very serious.
“That’s horrific.”
“Hey, there are lots of things you don’t know about me.” You recalled the conversation the two of you had while you danced at the wedding.
“I know a little bit more about you after peeling you off the bathroom floor last weekend.” Your gaze breaks from his in embarrassment. “You know you can talk to me about missing your dad, right? I can try my best to understand even though I’m not really too good at this whole bonding thing.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you in an attempt to lighten the mood back up. “I want to be a good person for you.” You give him an appreciative glance but can’t figure out how to reply due to the raw emotion seizing your chest. “One good thing did come out of the whole ordeal though.” Shouta continued on and you focused on the deep timbre of his voice to ground yourself.
“What’s that?” It came out in a whisper.
“I don’t have to worry about you getting kidnapped because when you don’t want to move, you don’t. I had the worst time trying to get you into bed.” As you felt your face heat up, you wondered if he caught onto the double meaning as well.
“I’m sorry about all of that.”
“It’s okay, baby girl. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.” He lifted up the corner of the throw blanket that was closest to you and motioned you over with a tilt of his head. Surely, he just saw you shivering. He had no ulterior motives. You were the only one with those.
You scooted over apprehensively against the material of the couch until your side rested gently against Shouta’s and he let the blanket float down over the two of you. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it?” You could only nod your head in agreement as the right side of your body felt like it was being engulfed in blue flames.
Your favorite times lately were spent getting to know Shouta better. Getting to know the person he was away from the house, when he was Aizawa-sensei or Eraserhead. You were realizing that he had many different faces, but at the heart of it all, Shouta was really just a person who tried hard to do the right thing. If you were a person that tried to do the right thing like he did, you wouldn’t still be trying to ruin your mother’s marriage. If you were smart, you would have realized that your plan would hurt Shouta as well.
But you weren’t really a common sense girl. Or a nice girl. You just wanted revenge for your devastated heart.
And certainly, Shouta falling in love with you the way you were starting to fall for him wouldn’t hurt either.
He offered to take you to dinner and show you some of his patrol routes since you had been peppering your interest about his job into conversation more fervently lately. He called it important bonding. Your mother was out on work business again and you thought Shouta might have just been lonely.
You had a fantastic time walking through the brightly lit streets with him. He was still dressed in all black and his back was hunched forward like he was unimpressed, but something told you Shouta was having a good time. Every now and then, he would point out an alleyway or a building where he apprehended a villain. It filled you with a weird sort of pride to know that he did his job so well. He seemed so fucking…morally upstanding that it made you want to scream.
“You gettin’ hungry?” His measured tone broke you out of your thoughts. You nodded up at him and hoped that the smile you gave him was pretty enough, better than your mother’s at least. “I’ll show you this cool place I eat at sometimes.” Shouta grins. You dig your fingernails into your palm.
You follow him to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant. It’s run by an older couple that seem to know him well. You end up ordering the same thing he does and you watch as Shouta plays with his wedding ring absent-mindedly while he takes in his surroundings. You can’t figure out how to start a conversation. You tap the bottoms of your shoes against the linoleum floor and he looks at you like he’s about to say something but is interrupted by the little old lady bringing over your food.
“Is this your new wife, Eraser?” The lady asks as she places his plate in front of him. Her question is innocent but you choke on your spit and watch as vermillion creeps up Shouta’s neck.
“This is my stepdaughter,” he corrects, recovering easily enough and you smile politely at the lady. She smiles back warmly, ducking her head a little bit in consolation for her mistake.
“Forgive me. She’s absolutely beautiful though.”
“Thank you, I know.” It’s your turn for blood to rush to your head. You have to tell yourself over and over again not to read anything into it as the old lady walks away. There’s a charged silence over the table as the two of you focus too hard on your food. You’re the first to break the awkward air.
“I’m thinking about moving out.” It’s abrupt and you don’t realize at first what you’ve really said. Shouta’s eyes widened.
“What do you mean?” He takes a bite of his food.
“I mean, if I keep my grades up, I can still transfer into the university I was originally supposed to go to. I’m planning on summer classes too.” You watch him chew his food as you move your own around the plate.
“I think that’s a great goal to have if you can keep your grades up. I can help you study for your exams if you’d like.” He smiles warmly at you and you feel okay again.
“I’d really like that, Shouta.” You feel the urge to stuff your mouth with food so you aren’t encumbered by the emotions that you’re feeling. Silence settles again over the table. You’re taking a sip of water as you notice his mouth open and close a few times, like he can’t figure out what it is that he wants to say.
“What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just…adult stuff.” He fiddles with his wedding ring again.
“I’m an adult.”
“I know but I…I shouldn’t talk to you about it.” Shouta looks down at his plate. You nudge his foot with your own underneath the table.
“Come on…we’re bonding, right?” You’re being too sweet, too calculated, but you really do want to know what’s bothering him.
“Your mom is just really difficult sometimes.” He blurts out and you almost laugh out loud but keep up your supportive front for his sake.
“She can definitely be a handful. I was just lucky to have my dad around to help soften the edges for a while.” Your food stands all but forgotten now. You watch as Shouta’s fingers drum on the table just centimeters away from your own. Gently, you slide your hand closer so that your fingertips are touching but you play it off like you don’t notice.
“I think maybe I’m just not used to relationships like this one. Or maybe I just need to finish adjusting. I don’t know.”
“Do you still love my mom?” Your senses are heightened as you speak, but you’re interrupted by the old woman bringing over the bill. Shouta hands over his card and pretends like he never heard your question. He puts his card back in his wallet and slides out of the booth. You still look at him expectantly but he maintains his innocence.
“C’mon, there’s an old record store on this side of town that I want to show you.” He smiles, tight-lipped, and you scoot out of the booth. You wonder why he ignores the question. You want a solid answer why he always runs to your defense (aside from the answer you’ve deluded yourself into thinking is the truth) but you don’t think you’ll be privy to that information tonight. You follow him out onto the sidewalk. You like how you and Shouta are absorbed into the nighttime crowd like any other couple. You don’t talk to each other for fear that your conversation will be lost among the bustle of the people.
Shouta walks with purpose, but never so quickly that you can’t keep up with him. In any case, it would be hard for you to lose him due to his stature. Sometimes you forget how tall he is with the way he hunches over and the way he carries himself. You like the way the neon of the street signs illuminates the sharp edge of his nose. You find yourself staring at the wisps of long, inky hair that frame his face. He was so, so beautiful in a meek way and it’s extremely easy for you to get lost in it. It’s what leads you to almost bumping into his shoulder as he comes to a stop. A giggle, a real giggle bubbles out of his mouth and you feel the final nail being driven into your coffin. You needed him. Like air, like water. He was more necessary to you than he was to your mother. All it would take was a single move. A single move. You could persuade him easily enough that you were a better answer to his question.
“You ready to check it out?” He nods toward the door and starts to push inside without truly waiting for your answer. You try to shake off the millions of emotions that are running through your body.
Inside the record store is warm and smells like old books. You break away from Shouta for the moment and start to paw through the racks of records by yourself. You pick up some of the titles and flip them around to the back, trying to read the writing on the back. It’s hard to concentrate. Your mind keeps stagnating on Shouta’s words and his proximity to you. He’s flipping through the old records the same as you are and you wonder if he can feel your eyes flicking over to him every so often.
He holds one record in his hand but you can’t quite make out what it is. You watch as he looks through one more rack of records before going to the cashier and making his purchase. It gets slid into a brown paper bag with the name of the store stamped on the front. You make your way over to Shouta.
“I’m ready if you are,” He smiles warmly at you and you nod your head, in so very deep. You follow him back out onto the street. He turns to face you quickly. “Here. It’s something to keep you entitled to your sadness.” There’s a barely concealed twinkle in his eye. You take what he holds out with a grin. You pull the record out of the bag.
“You’re so corny.” You laugh, but are touched that he remembered that you listen to Radiohead as he places OK Computer in your hands.
“It comes with the territory.” He speaks easily but nothing gets said on the walk back home.
Your heart is in danger of pounding out of your chest by the time that you reach the front door. You want to kiss him, to make a move so badly that it’s the only thing that you can think about. Everything that he’s done has to mean something, right? Desperately, you hoped that it did as your fingers fiddled anxiously in front of you. You follow Shouta inside and he walks you to your room like a gentleman.
“Don’t forget this.” Shouta places the record he bought for you into your hands as you moved to open the door to your bedroom. There’s harsh electricity running through your veins that’s bordering on catastrophic. You smile at him as gratefully as you can, nodding your head in thanks as you turn back towards your door. This time, you’re able to get the door completely open and take a few steps before you hear him call your name and apologize in a stage whisper. You fight the desperate feeling in your chest as you feel him tug on your arm roughly and pull you into his hard chest. OK Computer clatters to the floor. It doesn’t matter.
Calloused hands are on the side of your face and then his lips are melting against yours needily. Shouta pulls back just as quickly as he leaned forward but his palms are still on your cheeks. He’s looking at you levelly, letting you make the next decision like it’s a game of chess. Your head feels like it’s full of helium. You watch your hands move from outside of your body as they come to tangle around his neck. You make your play and kiss him back on your tiptoes. The surprise he feels is tangible. The new kiss holds the same probing energy but then expands into something wetter and needier-yet still remains sickeningly sweet. You suck his lower lip into your mouth and sigh in the back of your throat when his hands wander down the curves of your torso to your hips. Shouta breaks the kiss, a string of saliva briefly connecting you for a moment longer and he exhales hard as he lays his forehead against yours. You can’t help but get lost in his permanently bloodshot eyes.
“I-i crossed a line. I’m going to cross a line.” Despite his words, he tugs you closer to him until your bodies are flush with each other. Shame clouds his features and you can’t stand that. Not when you created the perfect storm for this to happen. You play with the shorter hairs at the base of his neck.
“You’re not alone, okay? We’ll cross the line together.” You whisper so reverently that at first you think Shouta might not have heard you, but then you hear a strangled groan come out of his mouth and he’s pushing you backwards until you’re sitting on your bed, surrounded by soft blankets and engulfed in the scent of his mellow cologne. He starts to lean over you and you crane your neck to look over his shoulder dubiously at the door that’s standing almost wide open. It’s the only thing stopping your room from being a sanctuary. He follows your line of sight and turns back around with fiery eyes as if to say, “just be quiet.” You swallow thickly and lean back on your elbows. Shouta crawls up your body, blanketing you nimbly, and then he’s kissing you breathlessly again. You do your best to keep up with him but there isn’t a sense of yours that he isn’t absolutely steamrolling right over. His overwhelmingly hot hands travel up between your soft thighs and push your skirt up around your hips. You can’t stop the pleased sound that escapes from your mouth.
“Fuck, you sound even prettier than I imagined.” He starts kissing down your jaw and sucking at your neck. You hold his head against you and bite on your tongue to stop the salacious moans that are fighting hard to make their way into the heavy air.
“You imagined me?” You whispered, shocked, into his ear. He grins up at you devilishly.
“What the hell did you think I was gonna do, baby girl?” He’s quiet, oh so quiet, but you want to scream so loud that it breaks glass. He kisses you again and you rub your thighs together. His kisses feel better than anything you’ve ever had before. You’re drunk on it. Shouta’s long index finger pulls your bottom lip down. You follow his lead and your mouth hangs open. You watch through hazy eyes as his face hovers over yours and his lips purse. A thick glob of spit falls from between his lips and lands on yours. You feel slick gathering between your legs. His spit is licked off of your lips slowly and you open your mouth again. More. You’ve never seen his eyes so dark as he repeats the action and grinds his rock-hard cock against you.
Your legs wrap around his waist and with your free hand, you guide one of his hands down between your legs. His fingers run over the cotton that covers your slit and you can feel it starting to stick to you uncomfortably. At this point, you don’t care that this is something that neither of you should be encouraging. You’ve already got the feeling that you’ve won, you’re finally getting the vengeance you seek against your mother.
Shouta starts to pull your panties down and doesn’t stop until you’re completely free of them. He kneels on the floor and pulls you closer to his face by your thighs. His fingers knead into the skin there and you can feel his breath against your wet core. An obscene moan gets lost in the air and Shouta shoots a stern glance at you. Sorry, you mouth from where you watch perched on your elbows but you don’t really mean it.
He rubs two of his fingers against your core and you keen against the touch, not expecting it to feel as good as it did. Your mouth lolls open and you try not to squirm underneath the intensity of Shouta’s gaze. He focuses against your clit, slowly rubbing circles around it. You grind your hips down into the feeling and he bites gently into the soft skin of your thighs as you fall apart too quickly on his fingers. Your arms turn to jelly and you slide down until your back is against the comforter. Eyes flutter shut as you get lost in ecstasy.
You jolt back up again when you feel Shouta’s fingers get replaced with his mouth. He laps at your wet cunt like he’s not good for anything else and you feel him pull away just long enough to let another glob of spit fall onto your already soaked entrance. Heat rises through your body when you feel him push a finger inside of you with ease because of how worked up he has you. He curls his finger and watches with a silent chuckle how you have to slap your hand over your mouth to keep your sounds inside.
“Cute,” he mumbles against your thigh and then you’re tugging at the roots of his hair, beckoning him on top of you again. You’re so blindsided by pleasure that you don’t care how you look as you paw his shirt off and rake your fingers through the dark hair on his chest. You babble mindlessly against his ear. It makes no matter to you how you sound.
You start trying to undo the button of his pants.
“So fuckin’ needy for me, huh? My needy girl.” He whispers hotly against the side of your neck and all you can do is nod your head at him and kiss him timidly. The tip of his cock rubbed through your folds and there really was no chance of ever going back.
“Please,” the request rolls off of your tongue and knocks against Shouta’s lips. He covers your lips with his own again and slowly presses into you. You squeeze your eyes shut at the uncomfortable feeling to begin with. He’s so big and all-encompassing that it’s almost hard to breathe. Shouta pants into the saliva-soaked kiss and bites at your bottom lip as his hips rock slowly against yours. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders at the sensation and you tighten your legs around his waist.
He grinds his hips against yours until he’s fully seated inside of you. He breaks away from the kiss momentarily to look at you, the tiny little tears pooling at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming emotion. He runs his thumb through the tears and you bury your nose into the crook of his neck.
“Please,” you mutter again, embarrassed, into the fine sheen of sweat that coats his neck. Shouta rocks into you again and again slowly and deeply and you swear you can see galaxies forming in your field of vision. The heavy feeling of his cock inside of you is enough to have you arching your back into his chest and he fucks your harder and rougher until your grip on him is just at the point of leaving marks. You feel the muscles in your stomach turn to jelly and Shouta focuses his thrusts upward, right into your tummy. You whine against his neck. Your pussy clenches hard around him. He pulls your head away from his neck and you flop back against the mattress.
“Are you gonna cum for me?” He whispers lowly and through hazy eyes, you see a look in his eyes that you’ve seen mirrored in your own. It tips you closer to the edge. You nod your head. “Look at me, baby girl.” He requests and then he’s slapping his hand quickly over your mouth to stop you from being too loud as you reach ecstasy. You don’t know how many more times he rocks his hips into yours before he’s spilling inside of you and you can’t stop your eyes from rolling back into your head. His forehead slumps against your own and there’s a drunken grin on both of your faces as he pulls his softening cock out of you.
He maneuvers the both of you around until you’re both laying on your sides, his chest pressed against your back. You drift off to sleep with Shouta’s fingers running through your hair and feeling like you have just won a long battle.
It had been two weeks since you slept with Shouta. The next morning, in the wee hours, you had woken up in your bed alone but snuck around to give him a quick kiss before he left. He had held you by the waist and cradled your head against his when you kissed him by the front door. He had smiled at you and kissed your forehead, too.
It had been a full week since when he pushed you away in the kitchen and had hissed about how what the two of you had done was wrong. Your mother came in the kitchen while you were speechless and attempting to wipe the stricken look off of your face. You glared at Shouta from across the room while she announced a long work trip that she would be taking at the end of the week.
The night before her trip came and your mother organized an elaborate “family” dinner. You invited the boy that had left hickies on your neck over and after dinner, fucked him loud enough in your bedroom for Shouta and your mother to hear on their end of the house. Being a nuisance and vengeance were what you were good at.
The morning after, your mother left wordlessly on her week-and-a-half work trip. When you did leave your room, you and Shouta avoided each other like two black clouds caught up in a windstorm. You couldn’t focus on anything. Not homework, not shows, not the music coming through your headphones. Silently, you had resolved to curl up in a ball on your bed and let tears run from your eyes freely over the predicament you were in. At this point, even if your dad were still alive, you weren’t sure if he would have good enough advice to help you through this.
It hurt.
It hurt listening through the thin walls to Shouta cluttering around the house like nothing was wrong. It hurt how he only looked at you in passing as he put the leftovers from dinner away as you walked your hookup to the door the previous night. Didn’t he know that he was the reason you were tearing yourself apart? No, that wasn’t exactly fair.
A violent sob leapt out of your throat and you slapped your hand over your mouth to cover up your residual noises. You were the reason things had gotten so out of hand. You were almost completely blinded by your need to ruin your mother’s relationship that you hadn’t realized that you were sliding down a slippery slope for Shouta. Maybe you were as bad as your mother thought you were.
Your head was clogging up with the frequency of your tears now and it was hard for you to breathe. You couldn’t slow your mind down enough to regulate your breathing and your breaths kept coming out in ragged little pants. You sat up in a frenzy, unable to catch your breath. The disappointed look on Shouta’s face the previous night kept flashing though your head. You were lightheaded as you stood and stumbled on wobbly knees through your bedroom door and out into the living room. Tears coated your eyelashes together but through the blurriness, you could see Shouta sitting on the couch. He sat up slowly, on guard, unsure of where the line was anymore.
“What’s wrong?” His tone was neutral and that was enough to send you into a fresh wave of sobs and panic as your nose was so stuffy now that you couldn’t get a proper breath. You wanted to yell but it came out strangled. You wiped brashly at your face with the sleeve of your shirt and started to wring your hands together anxiously.
“C’mon, what’s wrong?” Shouta had stood and was standing a polite distance away from you now. There was no arm held out to you in consolation but his voice had taken on a tone that was more suited for talking to a dying animal. You felt like one just then.
“I’m-I’m sorry,” You managed to get out through hiccups. Pitifully, you watched the way that Shouta’s shoulders slumped. Still, you sobbed as he stayed quiet. Your knees wobbled perilously and before you could unceremoniously fall to the ground, you lowered yourself to the hardwood in a heap of limbs with your face buried in your hands. For a fleeting second, you wondered if you could die from crying too hard.
You felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Shouta’s hand. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.
“You’re gonna make yourself throw up if you keep crying this hard.” It was nothing but the obvious. His hand squeezed down soothingly on your skin.
“Don’t care,” You muttered stuffily against your palms and curled tighter against yourself. “‘I think I’m gonna die.” Shouta’s fingers worked their way under your chin and yanked your head up more roughly than he had intended and through your puffy eyes, you saw the face of a man wracking his brain to try and remember if there was ever a time in his thirty-odd years where he had successfully used his Erasure to stop a panic-induced crying fit.
“You’re not gonna die.” There’s an annoyed edge to his voice. It makes you cry harder. He heaves out a world-weary sigh and pulls you into his chest. You don’t want his scent to be comforting but it’s exactly what you need at that moment.
“‘m sorry. ‘m just so sorry, Shouta. I didn’t wan-wanna fuck him. Just wanted to make you mad.” Getting the words out feels like running a marathon.
“I know, baby girl. I know.” There’s a pause before he speaks and he warms a little, melting into the sad jumble of your body. You close your eyes and try to focus on that, as if there was any way to repair this.
“Do you know how miserable it is being in love with you?” You look at him with puffy eyes. If your words affect him, he gives nothing away. But your words are the truth. There was only one thing in your life that hurt more than his rejection. His arms around you tighten and then fall away. You wipe your eyes again but it still does no good.
“It doesn’t make sense for you to be in love with me.” He picks at his nails.
“I don’t care. I am.”
“I treated you badly.”
“If everyone stopped loving the people that mistreated them, then the world would be an awfully loveless place.” It’s almost comical how your voice sounds with your nose stopped up.
“That’s not a logical…that’s a childish way of looking at things.”
“Tell me you don’t love me back.” Your fingers drum on the floor and Shouta’s eyes narrow at you.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why can’t you do that?”
“Because you know I fell for the wrong woman. You know I married the wrong one.” Your heart stops.
“I don’t know that,” there’s a pause. “You’re saying that you love me too.”
“I’m saying that I married your mom and fell for you and it’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever done.”
“Tell me that you love me and that I’m better than her and I’ll be okay.” You know you’re pushing him and you should just be grateful that he’s speaking to you again. He sighs deeply, guiltily.
“I love you too. More than your mother. I’ll have a talk with her when she gets back from her trip.”
You grin pitifully at him. You always, always, got what you wanted.
A/N just a random idea I had while I couldn't sleep. Let me know what you think 💜 it's short but sweet.
Master List
Jamie searched high and low for the curvy woman with the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever encountered.
He throws his hands in the air giving up until he notices your silhouette crossing by the window. Why didn't he look in the garden? You were always in the garden. He smirks and walks to the sliding glass door.
You sit on the grass with gardening gloves beside you and a small shovel in your hand. “Hey, handsome!” You grin from ear to ear.
Jamie can't hide his smile as he casually walks down the wooden porch stairs. “You know, gloves are meant to go on your hands, darling.”
You shrug, turning your head to gaze upon him. You set the shovel beside you and dust off your hands. You bring your shoulder to your face and attempt to wipe the sweat from your forehead. Your numb legs feel relief when you plant your weight on your butt. “A little dirt won't kill me.”
Jamie can't help but admire you in your comfy sundress plastered with a beautiful pattern of rainbow sunflowers because you claimed the different colors would look fun.
He plops down beside you and runs his fingers through the grown-out grass. “I’ll mow tomorrow.”
You stretch your legs out and lean back on your hands. You tilt your head at the sky, enjoying the soft pinks and purples starting from the sunset. Smiling, you say, “I'm so glad we moved from the city.” You close your eyes and inhale the fresh air.
Jamie lights a cigarette, and as he's inhaling, one of your eyes opens. “Well, I guess that's enough fresh air for me.” You tease. “But really, you should quit. We’ll have children running around this backyard someday, and you can't go around poisoning them.”
He nods as he takes another pull from the nicotine stick. “I promise when that time comes, I’ll quit, Love.”
“Well, that should probably be your last one, then.” You sneakily smile.
His eyebrow raises, and at first, he doesn't understand. “What?”
You sit on your knees and rest your hands on his shoulders. Love in your eyes as you speak the words he'd been waiting for. “I’m pregnant.”
His mouth drops in surprise. Instantly he puts his cigarette out and engulfs you in a hug, nearly tackling you on the ground. He hovers over you; his arms flex while he tries to hold his body weight off you. “That's.” He says in between kisses, “Fantastic news.”
“Yes!” You bring your hand to his cheek, and your foreheads touch. “No more smoking.” You tell him.
Jamie chuckles; looking you in the eyes, he says, “No more smoking. I promise.”
no other version of me i'd rather be tonight
description: you've been in a long-term relationship with shouta aizawa for a while and one day, decide to start a little family.
word count: 2k
author's note: had a dream about aizawa while taking a nap earlier and couldn't get it out of my head but hey, that's content baby! this is the first time i've written something this filthy on this tumblr so yeehaw, i guess (this also ended up being more domestic than i thought so maybe i'll write a part two?)
pairing: shouta aizawa x reader (dadzawa)
content warnings: established relationship, f!reader, female genitalia mentioned, fingering, breeding kink, size kink (lowkey), unprotected sex (be safe if y'all are engaging in intercourse in the real world), biting, explicit language (let me know if i missed anything!) (18+/mdni/ageless blogs dni!!!!)
it was friday night and everything was perfect, from the rain pattering outside your bedroom window to your lover’s scent emanating from his shirt that you wore. the only thing missing was him, but he had already texted you, letting you know that he was on his way home. your soft legs rubbed together underneath the throw blanket you had tossed over your bare legs to ward against the chill in your bedroom. it was difficult to focus on the novel you were reading due to the gentle anticipation building in your chest. for once, you had the entire weekend to spend with shouta and you were eager for him to return to your shared apartment and curl up next to you to watch reality television.
you were in the midst of your thoughts about your boyfriend when you heard the apartment door click shut and shouta’s muffled footfalls across the tile in the kitchen. your bedroom door was being slowly pressed open and you set your reading glasses and novel on the nightstand, next to the lamp providing the room with a soft orange glow. shouta’s head of black hair popped in through the doorframe and he grinned at the sight of you, already relaxed and ready to start your friday evening television marathon with him. you watched lovingly as aizawa padded over to the dirty clothes hamper in the corner of your room and threw his slightly damp shirt in before peeling his pants off, leaving him in a pair of black boxer briefs that you had to tear your eyes away from.
aizawa came to lay on top of you unceremoniously, face nuzzled into your chest and you brought a hand up to stroke through his hair. he let out a world weary sigh and you giggled at his dramatics.
“how was work today?” you asked, scooting down a little with his weight still on top of you so that you were more comfortable against the pillows. his voice was muffled when he spoke.
“you have no idea how agitating it is trying to wrangle twenty hormonal teenagers on a friday.” he groaned and you laughed again, fingers coming down to rub soothingly on his back.
“you love it though,” you teased, grinning even though shouta didn’t see it.
“yeah, so.” he playfully pouted against the shirt you wore, long fingers ghosting under the hem until your shirt was pulled up just enough to expose your stomach to the cool air. aizawa’s fingers danced over your skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake. he shifted his head slightly until he was able to leave light, open mouthed kisses all over your stomach. you shivered at the contact, your hands coming back up to play with aizawa’s hair. your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him start to nip at your stomach, blunt teeth pulling at your skin before his soft tongue licked over the red mark he left. he did this four more times, each time more intense than the last, until your stomach was covered in quickly fading bite marks and your breathing had lost some of its evenness.
again, you felt shouta pulling on your t shirt until you were sitting up and he was pulling it over your head and pushing you back down onto the pillows again, dark expression over his sleepy eyes.
“sho-“ you started to moan out when you felt his hands come up to knead your breasts but you were cut off by his mouth on yours. it was a sloppy kiss, full of spit and clashing teeth and your need to be closer to him. one of his hands came up by your head and stroked the side of your face.
“love you.” he whispered against your lips before sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth harshly and you felt your eyes roll back in your head. “love you so fuckin’ much.” he continued, letting your lip go and moving back down your body to start pulling the straps of your bralette down your shoulders until the whole thing rested around your stomach and shouta’s mouth latched around your right nipple, sucking and biting at the underside until any coherent thought you might have had was pushed straight out of your head.
“i l-love you too.” you breathed shakily and tried to regain some of your lucidity as shouta moved his attention to your other nipple. you could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh as you moved to open your legs more to give him more room to lay. you could feel him smiling against you. you were attempting to rut your aching core against him, against anywhere that would give you stimulation that you downright needed and fed up, you tugged on his hair until his lips were on yours again and your tongue was slithering into his warm mouth.
absently, you could feel shouta’s right hand trying to pull your bralette down more and with a huff, you took one hand that you were using to anchor his face to your own and undid the clasp that you knew was at the back and tossed it off the side of the bed. you could feel him smiling against your lips and still he fumbled around with his free hand and you couldn’t quite make out what he was doing until you felt him moving your panties to the side and you felt the warm tip of his cock against your folds, slipping against the slick there. you were breathless as he rubbed his length against your clit and it was all you could do to keep kissing him and wrap your legs around his back. the effect that he had on you really wasn’t fair.
he rocked back and forth against you and when he finally travelled down far enough for his head to reach your entrance, you swore you could feel his face heat up. he broke away from kissing you and licked down your jaw until he was nipping persistently at your ear. you couldn’t stop panting and whining as he pressed the impressive tip of his cock into your tight cunt and squeezed your eyes shut at the stretch. you couldn’t fathom to think of how many times you had been with shouta at this point, but he was always big and it took time for you to get used to him. he pulled out of you slowly and pushed just his tip back on again and caused you to shudder.
“wanna make me a daddy?” you felt him whisper against your ear and your eyes fluttered open to look at him grinning-a little nervously.
“huh?” you questioned, body turning to jelly at the way he was teasing you.
“wanna make me a daddy?” he repeated, pressing further into your slick pussy and you arched your back, tits pressing against his chest.
“you want me to have your baby, ‘sho?” you answered his question with your own, grin on your face matching his as he slowly fucked into you.
“you’d be the prettiest little mama.” he whispered against your jaw and pulled out of you completely before slamming into you deliciously, making you cry out his name.
he kept up his harsh pace for a while, ramming into you easily as your body acclimated to him once again. shouta had his arms caging your head in and you tried to keep your eyes focused on his as you felt your orgasm approaching. you could feel yourself tightening around your boyfriend’s length as he quickened his pace and brought his hand down to circle your clit slowly. the difference in stimulation sent you over the edge, calling out shouta’s name breathlessly.
you were starting to come down from your high when you registered shouta’s hips starting to stutter and him chanting fuck in between kisses to your shoulder. you felt something overwhelmingly hot pour out inside of you, causing your back to arch languidly at the feeling and aizawa’s body slumped against yours as he gave a few more thrusts.
“shouta,” you pouted, pulling on his hair gently so he’d look at you. “want more.” you demanded, involuntarily angling your hips down and trying to drive his still hard cock farther in. you needed to feel him come inside you again. it was like heaven.
“such a needy girl.” he clicked his tongue in mock disappointment as he pulled out of you against your protests. “just gimme a minute here, pretty.” he placated as he peeled your panties down your legs that you had forgotten about. “gonna give you what you need. gonna give you everything i can.”
he tossed your underwear off the side of the bed and came to kneel down between your legs, fingers swirling in his cum that had leaked out of you and he sat up, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. eagerly, you licked at the fluid on his fingers until there was nothing left and shouta pulled you into a searing kiss, tongue dipping into your mouth before pulling away and crawling down your body again. presently, you felt the fingers that you had just licked clean enter your pussy as aizawa's hot mouth latched around your clit softly, sucking and licking to hear you call out his name. you felt him hum against you when you started to fuck yourself down onto his two fingers, needing more.
"want your cock in me again," you whined, setting yourself up on your elbows to try and send your best-annoyed look down to your boyfriend. he chuckled and pulled his fingers out of you, making heavy eye contact and plopping his soaked fingers into his own mouth. you felt like your entire body was on fire.
"what's got you so needy tonight, love?" he asked, pulling your legs up over his thighs as he sat up between your legs. he heard you whisper something and he came to lay on top of you, easing his weight onto you as his dick poked at your entrance.
"what was that?" he whispered, sucking hard on your neck until you opened your mouth to answer him.
"just wanna-fuck!" he watched you throw your arm over your face in exasperation when you couldn't find the right words to say. "wanna have your baby in me." he finally heard you whisper after a moment and even with his face completely covered in a blush, he pulled your arm off of your face and pulled you into a passionate, bruising kiss.
"it's gonna happen, okay sweet girl?" he looked deep into your eyes, pleased when he watched you nod your head. it wasn't something that you two had talked about in the time that you had been together, but having a little family with you had been heavy on his mind lately and it had all come to a boiling point today. it was simply a pleasant surprise that you had felt the same way.
gripping one of your hands in his own, he pressed forward into you easily, aided by how absolutely drenched you were and his essence still in your pussy from earlier.
"feel so fuckin' good." shouta panted against your lips as he set a slow, deep pace. he knew he wouldn't last long like this, but he still hungrily pressed into you, drunk on the way your velvet walls clenched around him. he kissed up and down your neck, content with hearing your little mewls of pleasure as he sucked more bruises into your neck, ones that he knew your coworkers would see monday morning.
he started fucking you faster, chasing his own high that he could feel coming from the way your tight, hot pussy clenched around him. he slithered one of his hands between your two bodies that were impossibly close and pressed his hand down on your lower tummy, surprised that he could feel his cock in you.
"can take my cock so deep inside of you like this, huh, pretty?" he teased, barely pulling out before ramming back into you over and over again until you had your head thrown back and were just about squealing.
"fuck, shouta. 'm gonna come, gonna come." you kept repeating, hips jerking against his until he felt you still and your walls unclench a fraction and then he started up his brutal pace again, knowing he was on the verge of release himself. it was your fingernails scratching against his bicep that sent him over the edge, white-hot seed spilling deep into your cunt. breathlessly, he collapsed against you and pressed a sated kiss to your temple before pulling out of you and rolling over to the side. he maneuvered off of the side of the bed without getting up and grabbed your panties off the floor. he pulled them up onto your languid body with no resistance as your eyes fluttered open and moved over to cuddle your lover, despite the sweat that covered your bodies.
“you do know that our baby is gonna grow into one of those hormonal teenagers one day?” you cracked one tired eye open to glance at him.
“yeah, but they’ll be our hormonal teenager.” you laughed at shouta’s reply as he pulled for comforter up over the two of you, head coming to rest on your chest again and his sleepy eyes fluttering shut.
truly do not mind me i’m just thinking about older!kirishima (like mid-late 30s) having the same routine every morning that involves going to the same coffee shop after his gym workout and:
-you’re always there bright and early every morning despite being grouchy as hell at having to wake up early (but you get to control the music this way so it’s okay)
-always give him his coffee w a smile no matter how long the line is (because that’s red riot and he’s tall and strong and cute)
-but heaven forbid your co-workers ever find out bc the teasing would be merciless
-one day he figures out that you’re a student at a local university
-then everyday after that he’ll ask you about what you’re learning in your classes and it’s endlessly fascinating to him (much to the chagrin of the little blue haired lady waiting in line behind him to order)
-and it’s incredibly endearing to him listening to you gush and sometimes gripe about the american lit class you have to take
-but like in his free time kirishima starts looking up stuff about literature to talk to you about because he just loves hearing your voice especially when it’s still kind of soft with just a touch of sleep in it
-so the next morning he’s telling you very seriously about this theory that he absolutely came up w himself that shakespeare wasn’t just one man but a collection of writers and you just stand there with this completely lovestruck look on your face
-and like at this point kirishima notices that you always have your hair and nails and makeup done really nicely and just generally always seem to have an air of having it all together (but hoo boy if he knew) and he thinks it’s really cute how distraught you get if any of the ingredients for the coffee drinks get spilled on your apron
-and then you have to take another job as a waitress
-because you’re completely broke bc you’re astronomically bad w money and spending it on asinine things like your hair and nails but you’re hell bent on getting your classical lit degree without help from ur parents
-so u get a job at a cute little restaurant
- and lo and behold who comes in one night but kirishima himself with a few of his hero friends and he makes a little joke like “what are you doing, following me?” and you get all flustered but he tips well and lowkey flirts w you which his friends howl about once they leave
-and he starts finding excuses to come eat at the restaurant whenever your working like “oh, i forgot to thaw something out” or “oh, ants got into my pantry” but you really don’t mind because he’s so easy to talk to and will just let you go on and on about anything that you need to and try to give you advice
-and he comes in one night and gets a table by himself near the kitchen and when he’s reading over the menu, he hears you crying on your phone to your landlord (🤮) about how your rent would be late this month but you promise to have it soon
-and so instead of you being his waitress that night, he sits you down and makes you tell him about all of your financial problems and offers to help you pay your rent this month because he understands and your focus really should be on your studies
-but you just go on about how it might be easier to afford things if you didn’t feel the need to spend money you don’t have on stuff like your nails but you explain that you feel like you won’t be taken seriously without it
-and so kiri offers to pay for that instead, anything to make your life a little easier (lowkey a sugar daddy but without…the sugar)
-and so that’s how you end up going on little shopping dates with him every few weeks and he lets you pick out new clothes for him and stuff for yourself and he’s so patient and he listens to you complain about your crazy eighty year old love themes in spanish lit professor and how he’s absolutely killing your interest in neruda and kirishima quietly adds that name to the list of things you talk about to look up when he has free time
-and all this time neither of you realize that you both have feelings for each other and kirishima just keeps chugging along, only a little insecure that you’re quite a bit younger than he is and the situation you’re in could be easily misconstrued, especially by the media
-and yet that doesn’t stop him from waltzing right into the coffee shop one morning during your shift and telling you about how he accidentally bought a second ticket to a shakespeare musical coming to town and “would you be interested in going to see something rotten with me? it’s okay if not!”
- so you go to see the show with him and while it’s absolutely a good time, you’re in a sour mood the whole time because you always do your best to look as presentable as possible and as calm and collected as you can around this absolute gem of a man and if this was even a date, he’s shown absolutely no interest or inclination of making a move on you so you’ve just gotta be unloveable, right?
-kirishima picks up on your shift in mood and after the musical he asks you about why you’re pouting because the show was an absolutely knock down-drag out time and you end up blubbering through your tears and mascara (that kiri helped you pick out) that you thought there was something wrong with you or maybe you were asking too much of him to like you back
-and then on a busy nighttime sidewalk in the city he ends up confessing his feelings for you and you feel like a fool in the best way
description: you get stranded all alone with your crush, resident frat bro, sero hanta, when your car breaks down during an impending hurricane
word count: 6.4k
title: don't worry baby by the beach boys
author's note: where i live, we get hurricanes a lot and there's just something so special about watching a hurricane roll in at the beach so i wrote a lil somethin' with that in mind also because i can't stop thinking about shitty frat boy w a heart of gold!sero
pairing: sero hanta x reader
content warnings: drug use, alcohol use, f!reader, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, explicit language, penetrative unprotected sex, light choking, creampie, little bit of plot w a little bit of porn (18+/mdni/ageless blogs dni!!!!)
all characters are in their early 20s
banner pics from pinterest
dark and gray pitiful smoke hung in the heavy air. you took a defeated swipe with your foot at one of the front car tires. your raven-haired road trip companion stood a few paces away from you, on the phone with a tow truck company. on the horizon, you could see the sky darkening-a hellacious storm readying to split the sky in half. sero hung up the call, walking the few paces over to you and using you like an armrest. you wanted to shrink away from him but stood fast, angling your gaze down at the grass underneath your sneakers.
“tow truck guy said he could be here in fifteen. he said he’d try his best to fix whatever’s wrong with ol’ bessie here, but he sent all of his mechanics home early on account of the hurricane.” you nodded your head sourly. you felt like a fool.
“‘m sorry for ruining spring break.” the smallness of your voice wasn’t aided by the wall of humidity that your breath had to cut through.
“you didn’t ruin spring break, babe.” hanta bumped your shoulder with his in an attempt to brighten your mood. “but if only someone would have warned you that your ten-year-old shitbox wouldn’t make it five-hundred miles to the coast.” he clicked his tongue in mock annoyance.
“hey! we’re on the coast!” you cast your eyes to the row of brightly painted houses and just beyond, a dark cerulean stripe under the light blue of the sky.
“on the way here, i counted five different faded billboards all advertising different golf courses named after jungle cats. there isn’t even a bar in sight. how can one shitty little down be dry and responsible for so much water waste all at the same time?” hanta sulked.
“i just wanted to take the scenic route.” you pouted, lower lip jutting out. you had this stupid, unavoidable crush on sero and you still didn’t know how you felt about drawing the short straw to accompany him in the other car on the way to your spring break vacation. the other car held the rest of your friends and some of sero’s frat brothers. you thought that driving down with sero would have just been easy. you were pals after all, crush notwithstanding.
“next time, just let me pay for a rental.” hanta smiled down at you and you had to look away from him. you couldn’t handle the idea of him thinking of you as a good friend that he would enjoy going adventures with. you grunted in acknowledgement of his words and crossed your arms over your chest. up the road, you could see a black tow truck ambling towards your poor car. silently, you hoped that there was nothing catastrophically wrong with your beloved car. the pair of you had gone through too much together for it to end up dying on the side of some country road. the tow truck pulled over onto the shoulder of the road behind your car and a short, older man in a baseball cap hopped out of the cab.
“y’all called about a tow?” the man addressed the pair of you, his eyes stopping to rake down your body.
“yeah, think you can help?” sero asked, a hint of standoffishness in his voice at the way he noticed the older man looking at you. abruptly, you felt sero’s hand in your back pocket and he was pulling you into his side territorially. you barked out a nervous laugh and tried to cover it up with a cough. the man looked appraisingly at the two of you.
“all depends. why’d the car stop working?” the tow truck owner asked and you desperately tried to keep more laughter from bubbling out of your chest. it was uncomfortable, sero’s hand still being in your back pocket, but not necessarily unwelcome. you felt like you were in the twilight zone. you blamed it on the difference in air pressure. there was no reason to read more into sero’s actions than him just being protective over you. there was nothing more to it than it just being in his nature.
“there was a lotta black smoke and it kinda sounded….i dunno, bad?” you shrugged your shoulders, not having the words to properly describe the sound.
“pop the hood for me.” the man requested and you stepped around to the driver side and sero’s hand easily slid out of your pocket. you took a deep breath as you opened the door and pulled on the lever that made the hood pop up. the man pulled the hood the rest of the way up and yanked an oily shop rag out of his back pocket. sero watched on in silence. you stepped back next to him. sero’s hand stayed by his side.
the two of you watched in silence as the man tapped around under the hood for a few moments, opening caps and pulling at hoses. he stuck his head out from under the hood, wiping his hand on the dirty rag.
“are you familiar with oil?” he directed the question to you.
“oil?”
“you know, cars need it to function. kinda like gas.”
“i know what oil is.” you furrowed your brows together, not enjoying being talked down to.
“are you aware that you have to put more in from time to time.” the man put the shop rag back into his pocket. you blinked at him. “i’m guessin’ not.” he muttered under his breath and started to walk back to his truck. “i’ve got some here that’ll work for you.” he called over his shoulder and you grinned up at sero, who had a look of relief on his face.
“oh, thank you so much!” you thanked him. the emotional standoff from moments earlier was forgotten.
“won’t even charge you an’ your boyfriend here for it.” the man grinned slyly and as if both of you were burned, you both took a step in the opposite direction of each other. it was sero’s turn to let out an uncomfortable laugh. you felt your heart pitter-pattering against your chest. the man finished pouring the quart of oil into your car and stepped back, resealing the bottle with the lid. “i don’t know if you two are from out of town or what, but we’ve gotta hurricane about to come through later today and i don’t advise drivin’ through it. now, it’s not supposed to be nearly as bad as the one we had last year, but a hurricane’s a hurricane and the smartest thing to do would be to just stay the night. lucky for y’all, the wife’s a realtor and had some beach house rental cancellations so i’m sure she could cut you a deal.”
and that was how you and sero ended up alone together in a tiny little a-frame beach house that still had decorations and board games from the nineties adorning it. the kitchen windows were boarded up, but the plate glass windows facing the beach remained unobstructed. you could have walked from the deck down on the beach if you had really wanted to. instead, after an agitating grocery trip with the raven-haired man, you stood on the porch of the house with your back pressed against the railing, pulling on a cigarette with a can of cheap beer clutched in your hands. you looked on as sero rolled a blunt on the plate in his lap. between the both of you, you had about an eighth to make do with. you took a sip of beer and tried to break your focus on sero’s long fingers.
“hey,” his warm voice broke you out of your reverie and you looked up at him to see him jerk his head upwards, motioning you over to him as his bangs fanned over his forehead. “i’m kinda busy here, can you…” he trailed off but you knew what he wanted without him having to ask for it, having been in this situation countless times before at the parties he would throw and you would both end up outside together. you stepped closer to him, holding your half-smoked cigarette between your fingers and watched as sero craned his head forward and puffed on it slowly. you held your breath, shaky hand bringing your beer can to your lips once again before offering it to hanta after pulling the cigarette away. you watched the fine sheen of sweat on his cheeks glisten as his head moved. you desperately needed to rally your composure if you were gonna make it through the night without incident.
“thanks, babe.” sero grinned up at you and you grunted out your response before turning your back to him in favor of watching the waves crash against the sand. this way, you stood a chance at keeping your longing to yourself. you noted the way the water was getting rougher and the way the worsening wind was blowing sand around down on the beach. you had never seen anything like it.
“do you think the power’ll go out?” you wondered aloud and turned back to face sero, now licking the brown blunt wrap to seal it up.
“god, i hope not. it’s too damn hot.” as if for emphasis, he wiped his hand across his forehead and messed up his hair and you pushed down the urge to reach your fingers out and straighten his hair. you took a long drag off of your cigarette before stubbing it out and placing the butt on the railing. you watched a bead of sweat glide down hanta’s neck. you thought about walking into the ocean and letting it swallow you up.
“are we gonna smoke that now, or what?”
“i thought you’d never ask.” he beamed at you, standing up, blunt between his teeth, and stretched his body towards the sky. you could hear his bones crack. it caused you to snicker. “need more beer.” he transitioned easily and slid open the door that led back inside. you followed as if you were possessed by him and ended up dutifully standing next to him at the refrigerator and taking the handful of beer cans that he handed you. you led the way over to the couch and tried to set each beer can down without too much of a racket. one ended up tipping over and knocking the others over onto the carpet beneath the coffee table. you heard sero behind you laughing just over the short flick of his lighter. he laid back against against the armrest, long legs laid across the arm rest on the opposite end.
“where am i supposed to sit?” you pouted, cracking open a new can for you and sero to share. one of your hands came to prop on your hip.
“c’mere.” he smiled childishly and made grabbing motions at you. your mouth opened and closed in embarrassment as you tried to figure out some way to politely decline. “oh come on, it’s freezin’ in here!” sero groaned theatrically and you had to agree with him. it was positively frigid in the house compared to the heat and humidity of outside. you sat down in the middle of the couch and laid next to him, inadvertently curling your body more into his to prevent yourself from falling off the side. however, the couch was old and your movement pushed you farther than you would have liked into hanta’s side. despite this, the couch was comfortable and he was warm and your nose was full of the scent of smoke and you had to suppress a contented little sigh. you felt the deep rumble of a laugh reverberate through sero’s chest and you looked up at him in false annoyance as he placed the blunt into your waiting fingers.
“comfy?” the wind whipped around the house outside loudly. it sounded like a freight train. the sky grew menacingly darker.
“yeah, ‘m comfy.” your lungs filled with smoke. “just hope the power doesn’t go out.” you craned your head to look out of the tall windows as you exhaled.
“what is it with you and the power going out?” you passed the blunt back to sero. “afraid of the dark or somethin’?” you shook your head and took a sip of beer. the few that you had drank right after arrival were starting to wear on you, loosening you up.
“not afraid of the dark. afraid of bein’ stuck in the dark during a hurricane.” you clarified hazily.
“don’t worry, baby. it won’t be that bad.” sero drawled and his fingers brushed against yours absently. it shocked you back into your right mind.
“you don’t actually, like, know that.”
“sure i do. it’s spring break. nothing bad ever happens on spring break.”
“except for my car breaking down and getting us stranded here.” you laughed into the smoke-filled room.
“nah, i wouldn’t even count that.” sero’s lithe body pressed against yours as he sat up to tap the ash off of the blunt and into his discarded beer can on the coffee table. he plopped back down easily and brought the brown wrap to his lips again, inhaling deeply.
“sero, are you-” you started to ask if you did, in fact, feel his hard dick brush into your side not even a full moment ago but the words died in your throat before they had occasion to live.
“am i what?” he questioned easily, passing the blunt back to your waiting fingers. he exhaled a smoke ring. you tried to focus on that.
“nevermind.” you ignored the heat rising in your chest and instead focused too closely on pulling off the blunt, letting your eyes flutter shut and envisioning smoke filling your lungs. smoke and silence hung in the air when you exhaled so long that you let out a dry cough when there was no air left in you. you picked up the can of beer you had left all but abandoned on the coffee table, lukewarm condensation mixing with the clammy perspiration on your hands. you finished the rest greedily as sero took the blunt from your hands. you settled back down against his shoulder, watching him out of the corner of your eye.
“you were gonna ask if i’m hard, weren’t you?” he had a lopsided grin on his face and you choked on your spit. he inhaled, right arm coming to rest behind his head.
“oh-yeah.” you answered, trying to play it off like you had already forgotten.
“i am.” his voice went straight between your legs. god damn him.
“cool.” you did your best to sound nonchalant and entertain yourself with picking at your nails. the wind was starting to pick up in earnest outside and giant globs of rain started pounding against the glass panes and making them rattle in their frames. the lights in the living room flickered once, twice. you shivered and weren’t sure if it was because of the chill from the cranked-up air conditioning or your proximity to sero. the sky darkened angrily over the beach.
“hey, c’mere.” he repeated and you felt him looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes and all you could hear was static in your ears all of a sudden. his right hand reached over your shoulder to thread the tip of the blunt through the pull-tab of the discarded beer can and found its way to the side of your face. you found yourself fascinated by the red ring around the edge of his pretty eyes and were taken off guard by how close his face was getting to yours. you let your hand slither its way in between your pressed together warm bodies and your eyes shuttered themselves, head inching forward imperceptibly to meet sero’s. you waited to feel his lips on yours, held your breath as you felt the moment you had been craving approaching. instead, you felt his thumb on your chin pulling down softly. you let your lips part and felt the pad of sero’s thumb run over your lower lip before you felt his lips gently against yours, pushing warm smoke from his mouth into yours. after a quiet second, he pulled away to lay on his back again and it was only then that you exhaled, clearing your lungs, and looked up at him. he stared at the ceiling with that annoying smirk still on his face.
“what, did you think i was gonna kiss you?” he cut his eyes down to look at you. a scowl played on your face. you didn’t answer him. “mina told me you can’t cum.” he continued on in the silence and you choked on the spit you were trying to swallow.
“why the hell would she tell you that?” you grumbled, arms coming to cross against your chest. you hated how shitty and soft the couch cushions were, the way they made you slope down to press into sero’s muscular side without reprieve.
“dunno. i think she was drunk. it was when we were watching you makeout with that little blonde guy.” sero drummed his fingers against his chest. if you were rational, you would have gotten up to go bury yourself underneath a rock, but your body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. he snorted through his nose. “she said you were ‘in the midst of suffering through a consortium of bad dick.’”
“that’s a way to put it.” you threw your left forearm over your face and made a mental note to talk to mina later about what it meant to keep secrets. at the very least, she didn’t know and go blabbing about your crush on sero.
“so how big is it?” sero asked and you could feel him rolling his body over so his chest was pressed horizontally into your side. your two bodies mirrored the way the couch was built.
“how big is what?” you asked in confusion and then in the space of a blink, sero was hovering over top of you. he was so close to you that his black bangs tickled against your forehead and one of his legs rested between your parted thighs to help him hold himself up. you worked your fingertips into the crack of the couch cushion to stop yourself from running your fingers down his torso.
“how many guys belong to the consortium of bad dick?” he asked simply. his warm breath tickled your nose. you thought you could get high on the mixing scent of his sweat and cologne. his thigh settled more in between your legs and you wanted to buck your hips up against him.
“uh, like seven, i think.” you drawled out like you didn’t know, but begrudgingly you had kept count of your conquests each weekend, none of them bringing you the release that you craved. you thought back to all the times the guy you were hooking up with would cum, roll over, and fall asleep. it was no big deal, you simply got acquainted with your hand-thoughts of sero running through your head while your man of the night snored next to you. sero tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear and cooed at you sympathetically.
“seven, like, since the semester started or in total?” he had a shit-eating grin on his face as he hovered closer to you, elbows caging your head in and not allowing to you look anywhere other than at him. you rolled your clothed core imperceptibly against his thigh, just hoping that it would give you some relief from the way his voice was making goosebumps pop up all over your skin. you felt your blood almost boil in embarrassment and arousal.
“i-in total,” you stuttered out, knowing that you didn’t have near the amount of experience as sero and his near revolving door of prospects. “just think there's something wrong with me.” you tried to laugh and diffuse the situation, disarm sero so he wouldn’t pick up on you trying to rut your hips more heavily against his thigh. you let out a shaky breath and dug your fingers into sero’s bicep when he dipped down and pressed a wet kiss against the junction of your neck and your shoulder.
“nothin’ wrong with you, baby,” he muttered hotly against your skin and then moved to the other side of your neck and repeated the action. “some guys are just assholes.” when his breath fanned against your skin this time, you didn’t have the self-control to stop the way your hips jerked against his thigh. he stared back down at you with the same intensity.
“and you’re not one of those assholes?” you raised your eyebrows and tried to disguise the way that it was getting harder for you to breathe. as if from another dimension, you heard the wind whip again outside and the power dipped off again for a few seconds before coming back on, bathing sero in gentle light.
“i’m absolutely one of those assholes,” he chuckled, pulling one of his hands down to stroke his fingers against your neck. “but i know how to get someone off.” he had a heavy look of mirth in his eyes as he pressed closer to whisper in your ear. “look at you for example, pretty girl, using my leg to get off and i don’t even have to do anything.” your eyes got wide and you laid stock still as if you had been shocked. sero nipped playfully at the sensitive skin just under your ear. “don’t stop on my account. only stop if you want to but i don’t mind.” he locked eyes with you and you couldn’t hold it in anymore, couldn’t send the right message from your brain to you body to hold your hips still. instead, you rutted your hips in earnest against the length of sero’s thigh, letting out a stuttering moan when your lower back landed on the couch again. sero drew his bottom lip in between his teeth and his hand came down to rest on your waist. you could feel his bulge resting against your upper thigh. you wanted to run your hand over it, to feel his length, but you were too worried to move your hands.
you repeated the motion over and over, keenly aware and annoyed by the four layers of fabric separating you from the sero. you wanted him more than anything, but, too afraid to let the words stumble from between your lips, you had to settle for rubbing your pussy up against his leg and keen at the way your underwear slid against your clit. sero rubbed easy little circles into your hips and kept nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck.
“do you remember,” he started, leaving a sloppy kiss on your clavicle and pushing his fingers up under the hem of your tank top. “that girl that ran out of the party last weekend?” his long fingers ghosted over your chest while he looked at you expectantly for an answer.
“the one that you had upstairs with you?” you breathed deeply. you focused enough to pull the memory from the haze of your mind. “yeah.”
“do you know why she ran out on me?” he had an evil grin on his face as his hovering hand moved back down to pull at the hem of your top. you sat up a bit to help him pull it over your head and let out a persistent mewl at the new friction you found. the hairs on your arms prickled in the cool air of the living room.
“don’t really wanna hear about you hooking up with some girl, sero.” you whispered, modesty on your mind for the first time as you tried to cover your chest with your arms. sero grabbed both of your hands in his, pinning them up over the armrest of the couch. he dipped his head down, nose raking over the valley of your breasts and against the cups of your bra before his warm breath was tickling the shell of your ear again.
“she left because i kept calling her your name. fucked her brains out though.” he finished simply, like he was proud of what he had done. his own length now rubbed relentlessly against the outside of your thigh. the two of you were a mess of sweat and limbs and labored breathing.
“that’s…great, sero. really.” you tried to sound unaffected by the information. did that mean sero had a thing for you, close to the one that you had for him? it was a point you didn’t have long to ruminate on before his hand that wasn’t holding yours hostage above your head was snaking around to your back and undoing the clasp of your bra. he let go of your hands to impatiently yank the thing off of you and throw it back over his shoulder. with a cringe, you heard your bra connect with the battalion of discarded beer cans on the coffee table. sero’s palms traced heavily your sides, relishing in the way you pitifully dragged your clothed core against his thigh. it was as if nothing else mattered except for the drag of your clit against his muscly thigh. he shook his head mockingly at you and leaned in close to your face again. a big wave rose in your stomach and threatened to push you off of a cliff.
“uh-uh, baby.” his hands wandered up to your breasts and groped lightly. “call me hanta.” his thumbs ghosted over your nipples, already hardened from the cool air. “han-ta.” he punctuated the syllable with a little kiss to the space behind your ear and you arched your chest up into his, still clothed in a t-shirt.
“you’re so fucking annoying.” you whispered at the ceiling, arms coming to snake around sero’s neck and fingers playing with his hair. you were so pitifully close to coming now that you couldn’t slow down if you tried. the dam was so close to breaking. you were trying to rail back in anyway you could against the emotions sero was making you feel. it was embarrassing.
“that’s bold talk for someone about to cum from humping my leg.” he chuckled, hands working at pulling his cock over the waistband of his shorts. you leaned up to see what he was doing, forehead brushing against his, and almost choked at the sight. you surmised that sero’s cock was big from some highly scientific glances you had made at his crotch, but nothing compared to seeing it like this in all of it’s glory. you wrapped your arms tighter around hanta’s neck as he tugged at the length of his dick, sinful moans falling from in-between his parted lips. you tried to pull him down into a kiss, which he had been denying you of, to get your mind off of what it would feel like to have him pushing himself deep into your cunt. instead of pressing a kiss to your lips, he pressed one to your cheek, mouth pulled into a line in concentration.
“why won’t you kiss me?” you hated the way you breathlessly whined-the way you sounded so needy. the dam inside of you was a centimeter away from cracking.
“because i know it’s annoying the shit out of you.” he breathed heavily against the side of your face and the sound of his indisposed voice was enough to shatter the dam completely, an absolute fire raging throughout your body as your hips stuttered, pulling you through your high.
“f-fuck, hanta, oh my god!” you breathed, not sure of where you were in that moment and not caring at all. your head had fallen back against the armrest of the couch. your hands tangled tightly into sero’s hair and pulled upwards, moving you so you could see his ministrations against his own cock. he groaned loudly, his head followed the path of your hand obediently. you felt more warmth pooling between your legs once again.
sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth, your right hand abandoned its place nestled against sero’s scalp and came down to join his hand on his cock. your hand was on top of his, only going through the same motions that he was initiating himself, but it was enough to make him slot his head into the crook of your neck until he was biting and suckling so fervently at your skin that you were almost screaming at the pleasure he was making you feel.
“shit i’m gonna-i’m gonna-” he started urgently and was cut off by thick white ropes of his seed shooting against your stomach. you admired the way his cum looked against your skin and dragged a finger through it. you couldn’t help but to be captivated by it. coming back down to earth, hanta watched you intently and you were unaware of his gaze until his index finger joined yours in the mess on your stomach and he was dragging his finger up to your lips. he wiped the stripe of his own seed against your lower lip and watched with a fire in his eyes as your eyes connected with his and your tongue darted out to lick the mess from your lips. solidly, he gripped your chin in his long fingers and crashed his mouth down onto yours and bullied his tongue into your mouth. he liked what he found there, moaning into the kiss and taking your breath away. the two of you were an unrehearsed symphony of spit and limbs, neither of you being able to get close enough to other. hanta pulled away from you suddenly as if he had remembered something. a light blush flittered across the apples of his cheeks.
he sat up in between your legs and reached his arms up over his head, tugging his t shirt off of his body and wiping away the fluid that he had left on your stomach.
“sorry about that.” he grinned bashfully and dropped his shirt on the floor. he settled back on top of you and one of your hands situated itself in his hair and the other came down to explore the slight expanse of his chest. you wrapped your legs around his waist and settled farther into the couch, pulling him with you. you couldn’t believe that you were kissing sero, let alone like this, and mere minutes ago he had you peaking with barely even touching you. you kissed greedily down sero’s neck and relished in the hushed gasp he let out when your teeth barely grazed his skin.
“y’ don’t know how bad i wanted this.” he whispered against your cheek as he trailed down to your jaw. you whined against his neck and felt him get hard against you again.
“you…wanted this?” you stared up at him with blown eyes.
“so bad.” he eyed you hungrily and you registered the onslaught of rain of the roof and the harsh charge of the wind outside passingly as it grew louder.
“wan-want you to fuck me.” you found the courage to whisper against hanta’s neck and then his fingers were drumming lazily against your lips has his hips jerked involuntarily against you.
“well now, i can’t deny the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, can i?” he teased, kissing down your chest until he licked against one of your nipples. you whined, sheepish. sero started working at the button and zipper on your shorts. “this is still okay with you?” he looked at you with eyes containing momentary levity. you nodded your confirmation, needing more of his touch. he worked your shorts and underwear down your legs. you were relieved to be rid of your uncomfortably wet underwear.
crawling back up your body. hanta worked one of his arms under your neck to cradle your head and his other hand found its way down between your legs. you let out a strangled moan, jaw going slack, at the feeling of his middle finger gliding through your slick folds. you panted out little breaths as his finger started lazily circling around your clit and exploring. your hands stroked down his back and through his soft hair. despite the pleasure, you felt a voice in the back of your head telling you that you ought not to feel this way, that you didn’t deserve this-especially not with hanta.
“sorry for uh, being so needy. fucking this up.” you whispered, eyes not meeting his. his finger stopped its slow work.
“what’re you talking about?” confusion danced through his dark eyes.
“i just-i feel like…it’s dumb that i like you this much.” you pressed your thighs closer around sero’s waist despite your words. he snorted against your skin.
“sure you’re bein’ dumb, but that’s not the reason, pretty girl.” he tilted your chin up with his other hand so that you were looking at him. “i-” he hummed, stopping to think of his next words. “i don’t know! i like you! wanna fuck you, wanna hold your hand, wanna fuckin’... dance on an elevated surface with you next weekend.” you blinked your eyes repeatedly, trying to process all of the information. “so you’re not dumb…just maybe a little bit though for not picking up on that.” sero finished with a self-concious laugh and started his ministrations against your clit again. your eyes fluttered shut and your back arched up into him. you tugged his head down for a kiss and it was easy, his warm lips moving against your own and it helped you settle your thoughts.
his index finger travelled down to your entrance, swirling around lazily before coming back up to focus on your clit again. your breathing grew heavy against his lips. your arm slithered down between your chilly, sweat covered bodies and tried to press his hand closer to you.
“need more, sero.” you whined in his ear.
“what’d i tell you, baby?” he continued his evil pace against your clit. his fingers slipped against how wet you were. you wanted to crawl out of your own skin to find more blessed friction.
“please, hanta. need to feel more of you.” you didn’t care how you sounded-you were only driven by desire. he nipped at your lower lip through the smirk on his face.
“need me to fuck you?” his eyes burned into yours as he mocked your tone. abruptly, you felt his index finger enter you up to the knuckle. you arched your back, pressing your chest flush against his when he curled his finger up against your belly button. “fuck, you’re so wet.” he mused and didn’t waste any time in adding his middle finger. your jaw hung lax as you tried not to get overwhelmed by the stimulation. you did your best to meet his thrusts. nothing else mattered in that moment than hanta and the burgeoning wall of emotions that you were feeling. with his free hand, you felt him pulling his shorts and underwear down lower and then he was settling his body down flush against yours.
as he pulled his fingers away from you, you let out a whine that almost matched the wind outside in pitch but slowly, he pushed into you. all you felt was a heavy pressure in your lower half. you screwed your eyes shut and tried to focus on hanta’s hands running through your hair and cooing at you.
“that’s good, sweet girl. keep breathing, okay?” he instructed though his breathing was heavy and ragged. carefully he pulled out and pushed back in just as slowly. you nodded up at him through hazy eyes. he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own as he fucked into you deep and slow. hanta captured your lips against his own in a searing kiss when he finally bottomed out in you. there was nothing else in the world except for the heavy drag of his cock against your slick insides. god, you thought, the butterflies were incessant. sero fucked you just as smoothly as he talked, leading you to press your hips against his more persistently and beg for more of his touch.
“feel so good with you on my dick.” he muttered against your lips and his fingers splayed across your face to cradle you.
“wanna cum like this.” you couldn’t find it within yourself to care what was coming out of your mouth as hanta’s hips circled harshly against your own and his hips gave your clit the blessed friction it needed everytime he slid home.
“you fixin’ to cum for me, baby, huh? so fuckin' quick?” he picked up his pace and slid his fingers heavily down your jaw until his hand laid against your neck. he put steady pressure on the sides of your neck until you heard static in your ears and your eyes started fluttering towards the back of your head. the sensation was divine. it was, enough so, that when hanta let go of your neck to slide between your joined bodies to rub urgently against your clit, you started clenching around his cock relentlessly. the very next thing you knew, you were being bathed in the warm sensation of your orgasm. it was, what you hypothesized, sex should feel like. you were breathless and your body felt boneless as hanta kept fucking into you in search of his own release. you wrapped your legs tighter around him and your hands gripped his sweaty hair. you hissed at the slight overstimulation but you could feel his thrusts going more and more ragged. sero’s touch on your skin was enough to leave marks at this point. he hitched your leg higher on his waist, hitting a new angle up against your stomach mercilessly that had you crying out for him and digging blunt fingernails against the back of his neck.
presently, hanta’s hips stuttered twice against your own and you felt nothing but warmth coat your insides as his forehead dropped against your shoulder. you let out a chuckle through your own ragged breathing and sero turned his head to look at you, sliding his softening cock out of you as he did so.
“what’s so funny?” he asked, though he had a goofy smile on his face to match your own.
“i think the consortium of bad dick might be closed for business.” you leaned down to press a simple kiss against his lips. he threw a lanky arm over your middle and pulled you closer into his naked body. your heavy-lidded eyes took in the sight of him threading his fingers in between your own. the two of you drifted off to sleep while listening to the harsh pound of rain and the eerie whistle of the wind outside.
