you just needed a small vent. after confiding in mina about it and her telling you she knew someone, you found yourself outside a sketchy apartment. swallowing your pride, you knock twice.
the door opens and you don’t know what you thinking but you weren’t expecting such an attractive dealer.
“hi..” you start shyly. “mina said you could help.”
he doesn’t say a word but smirks before moving to let you in.
taking in the small apartment, you realize it’s much more clean than you thought. you seriously need to stop watching stupid shows.
“you can sit down on the couch, i’ll just be right back.” the guy says before walking down the hall. you listen and sit still on the couch, waiting with anticipation. he comes back before scoffing softly, “you know you can sit down normally? i’m not gonna bite.” he pauses, before adding with a smirk. “not unless you want me to.”
you glance up, raising an eyebrow before nervously adjusting in your spot.
“sero.” he offers his hand in a sly handshake.
you awkwardly shake his hand before pulling away just as quickly. “y/n,” you mutter in response.
“hm, y/n,” he whispers to himself, as if saying it any louder would shatter your name. he nods and begins to explain how it works.
-
“just relax,” he continues, “breathe in and just let it take over. i can go first if it helps you get more comfortable.”
“no, no. i’m not paying you to smoke my shit.” you argue, quickly taking a long deep breath, before coughing like hell. after a long fit of coughing, you start, “f-fuck.. that was something.. oh wow, this is…” you drag on, quickly taking another breath in. “fuck, that’s the stuff.” you blow out and turn to look at sero.
he’s already staring at you, almost admiring. you raise your eyebrow. “what?” you ask, “does the dealer baby want some of his stuff back?” taunting him, you wave the blunt in front of him with a small smirk.
“hm, just take another smoke baby.” he says lowly.
you put your brows together in confusion but listen, and just as you finish it, you blow it out right in his face. scanning his features up and down, you realize he’s not half bad to look at, and even better is he hasn’t tried anything with you. you giggle at his lack of reaction to the smoke in his face and move closer, closing the big distance.
“whatchu doing?” sero asks with a small smirk.
“..nothing.” you move on top of him, straddling his lap. “doesn’t seem like nothing baby,” he says, in a dangerous way before warning, “any other movements and we might have a problem.”
you offer your blunt with a small smirk and he takes it without moving his hands, just letting you do it for him. breathe in, and he blows a circle of smoke back at you.
giggling, you wave the smoke away and give the blunt to sero, who gladly takes another smoke of it.
you grab his face, letting the weed give you confidence to just do whatever your heart desires.
“careful,” he warns. “pretty girls like you don’t know what you do to guys like me.” his eyes glaze up at you with desire and a hint of something else.
you lean closer to his face, slow but steady before saying innocently, “oh yeah? but what if i do know? what would that change?” flirting is definitely not your first language, but you can sure fake it.
his eyes darken and he puts the blunt out, before moving his hips up a little and setting a hand on your waist. “show me then,” he dares.
you smirk, before moving your mouth to his neck. you hover for a second and ask, “may i?” to which he responds with, “do what you please.” you smile and start to slowly pepper kisses down his neck. long, painfully slow kisses begin to adorn his neck. you get higher and bite hard once, just marking so he doesn’t forget today. you probably will though.
he grunts in pain before tightening his grip on your waist, slowly moving his hips up and down for you. you shift, feeling the sudden pressure and your body begs for more as you respond and start grinding on him.
heavy breathing starts to fill the room as you both just keep chasing the friction, with small grunts coming from him and some quiet moans from you. the smell of sex begins to set in, making both of you hot and sweaty.
“come on baby, you can be louder for me,” sero says after a little. “you know you want to.” he grins before grabbing your waist and moving you faster. apparently the speed you picked was too slow. caught off guard, you let out a loud moan before becoming embarrassed and biting your lip.
“sorry..” you start before he interrupts you. “did i say be quiet?” he asks. you avoid his gaze and keep grinding. “look at me.” you close your eyes and keep focusing on the same movement.
he grabs your neck from the side and brings you closer, impatiently. you open your eyes in surprise and make eye contact. “tell me, y/n. did i say be quiet?”
you shake your head no.
“say it.”
“no, you didn’t.”
“then just be louder for me, ma.” he brings you in slowly and kisses you soft, letting his tongue communicate in all the ways words can’t. you whimper at the connection, and can’t help but go faster. youre almost at your edge and he can feel it.
he stops.
you look at him in shock and disbelief. “w-what?” you try to get some relief by continuing to move your hips but it doesn’t help. you whimper in frustration and betrayal. “sero… whyy?”
he picks you up and sets you down on the couch, before he takes his shirt off and gets back on the couch.
“finish on my tongue babe.” he grins and drags you closer to him, before he slowly tugs at your shorts. you nod in understanding and he takes off your shorts and underwear in one quick motion. he moans in want at the idea of you finishing on his face. he lays down, and grabs your thighs to hold as you splay across his face.
you're already wet from earlier, but the fact that you haven't finished yet makes you greedier. you whimper and sit down on him, before starting to ride his face aggressively.
“f-fuck! ughhh, ahh~!” you moan louder than before.
he groans at the sound of you and he picks up the pace, lapping you up and down, destroying you with just his face. you feel him groan against your pussy, and can't help but grab his hair to make him go faster.
"augh, goddd.. s-seroo," you slur, getting closer and closer to your climax. "fuck, please.." he moans into you as he listens to your sounds, his boner getting more difficult to ignore by the second. one of his hands reach up to your boob, to which you take off your shirt frustrated. aggressive and needy, you put his hand on your boob. he begins to pinch and twist, sending you over your edge.
"ah! f-fuck! sero, ughhh, oh my godd.." you moan as you finish all over his tongue. tired from the sudden exercise, you let sero come back up and as he sits up, he looks at you with those eyes. his lustful eyes stare back at you. you scoff and put your shirt back on.
"awh, baby, leaving so soon? it'd be a shame to miss round 2," he smirks. you eye him curiously and grin when you realize he's serious.
"oh yeah? a round 2? look who's being greedy."
"you know you like it."
---
a/n: is it obvious i've never fucking smoked before... at my old ass age. someone let me hit their blunt and recreate this.
lowk have a hanta scenario which you could build upon👀 so hanta has this one old school friend whose been closeted from like life by her parents and once she gets on campus, she wants to go wild. andddd she wants hanta to basically give her the true uni experience, featuring everything she missed to do including getting slutted all the way out hehe
what do you think? im thinking of a scene where she's rambling about wanting to get wasted and dance on somebody and him being so freaking amused
twerk practice with hanta, 1k words. and so, my frat!hanta agenda begins. kind of …18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
“What is this.”
You look over your shoulder, hands busy as they rummage through a desk drawer in your new dorm. To say you’re excited, and maybe a little over-prepared, is an understatement—you aren’t taking your first year away from home lightly.
“Huh? Oh, my…my bucket list.”
You transferred to Yuuei for your junior year of college. It took a PowerPoint about the importance of seeing and experiencing new things on a psychological level, the promise of Hanta’s watchful eye, and a daily call at 7pm on the dot.
Your parents think he’s a responsible guy, and he is. But he won’t keep you from yourself, either.
So, Hanta’s eyes scan your ‘bucket list’ with thinly veiled amusement and maybe, guiltily, a little wishful. What the fuck is this?
get drunk
learn how to twerk
twerk on somebody (ANYBODY, PLS)
also, lap dance (is that the same thing?)
go to a college party (multiple)
get a boyfriend
pull an all-nighter—
Hanta lifts an eyebrow. “You know how to twerk?”
Your lips purse in light shame, and your ferreting hand finally stills.
“That is…a complicated question.”
Lounging on your bed, he waves a hand. Enlighten me. You stare for a moment, eyes ricocheting between him and the very personal paper he holds, before finally, caving.
“Because,” you turn around with a wagging finger and a big exhale, letting him know you’re about to illustrate a multi-pronged plan of attack; it’s that serious. “There’s levels, right? Like, I know the basic twerk…movement. I get the vision, but I dunno how good at it I am, and can’t do anything fancy, like…clap my cheeks, or anything.”
Hanta snorts, tilts his head. “Why do you need to learn to clap your ass?”
“I don’t need to learn any of that,” you gesture to the paper on approach, and snatch it away with a huff. “But, I want to.”
“…Why?”
“Be-cause,” you whine, stomping a foot at the required over-explanation. “It looks fun.”
Hanta lifts a teasing eyebrow as you plop onto the twin mattress beside him. He snatches the page too quick for you to react, and you gawk as he lets a satisfied smile slip, keeping you away with a big hand to the face as he continues to read. Some are more innocent than others. Have a slumber party, Go to girls night, Lose my virginity—which, makes him choke.
“Where have you even seen people shake ass before, huh?”
“Rap music videos,” you answer a little too quick, and he barks a laugh. “And-and reality TV!”
Hanta drags a hand over his face, using his other to continue the game of keep-away. “Oh my god—”
“I have dreams and aspirations, and you will respect them—”
“I…do,” he lies through his teeth. You lick the hand on your face. With a grimace, he takes it back, and stands when you lunge.
“No, you’re not! You’re making fun of me!”
Yes, he is. He is. But also, he’s short-circuiting a little, brain cycling between 'twerk on somebody' and lose my virginity on repeat. Which, it shouldn’t.
(Especially that last one. The last one is crazy—)
Your parents think he’s a responsible guy, and he is. But he won’t keep you from yourself. He won’t keep you from himself, either.
So, yeah. Maybe, Hanta pulled a few strings. Did a little convincing and a lot of lying.
“Up, go up—”
“I am!”
“No, like,” Hanta, guilty, indulgently, takes two handfuls of your ass because he can (sort of) and lifts it until your spine curves. You stand in front of his spot on the bed’s edge with hands on your knees, and it takes everything in his being to avoid spreading your cheeks and just…putting his face. Right there. “Throw it up, like, to try to aim for the back of your skull—no, not like that.”
There’s a How-To video playing on your laptop, but it’s pretty useless. It helps with the logistics—the facts—but conceptualization and execution are two separate things entirely. You sweat your little heart out, though.
He wants to pull you onto his lap.
He wants to pull you onto his lap and make you grind into his thigh, make you understand how good he can make you feel, make you come back for more. And, Hanta wants you to come back for more. He really, really does.
You huff, a little winded, and glare over your shoulder at his impatience. “How do you even know how to do this?”
Hanta gestures to the laptop with a curdling face. “We’re watching the same video, right?”
“Fuck you,” you glare, and try again. It’s kind of cute, actually—it bounces, but so does the rest of your body, and while it’s definitely not correct, Hanta drools nonetheless. Grumbling under your breath, you lament, “I wish I had a mirror.”
So you can see how incorrect your form is, get embarrassed, and stop? Yeah, fuck that.
“Y’don’t need one,” Hanta decides aloud, giving your ass a light slap because it’s right there. Light enough that you don’t jump, but your back half still jiggles. “That’s what I’m here for. You’re doing great, Sweetheart.”
“It doesn’t feel like I’m doing great...” You frown and attempt again. One bounce. “Someone on TikTok said it should feel like gravity is pulling my butt down—”
“And you’re gonna believe some rando on the internet? Baby,” he coos like you’re naive, and while you are, he’s also lying. His hand caresses the globe of your ass, and you don’t say anything, so he doesn’t stop. “You’re doing amazing.”
“Really?” You ask, and it’s adorably hopeful. You can’t see him, but he nods anyway.
“Mhm…Just kinda, squat lower—” his hands find your waist to ease you down, and you follow without question. You follow until you're nearly seated on top of him, your ass just brushing the fabric of his jeans, light but enough, and Hanta’s eyes flutter. “Perfect.”
“Like that?”
“Just like that,” Hanta says. His hands don’t leave your hips, but one does drift, down your back, around your ass, then up again. He’s going to make sure you can cross two items off your bucket list tonight. “Try again.”
@cinna-creme <3 put sero on my mind and now i’m thinking about him lazily eating you. nsfw mdni.
sero likes to lay back on the couch after a long day, not even taking the time to undress, just calling you over, eyes closed if he's really tired, limbs sprawled, hanging off the seats.
"c'mere baby."
as soon as you get on top of him, his whole body relaxes and he hums into you almost in thanks.
it's a past time for him that puts him completely at ease. he allows himself to get lost in your taste and the feeling of your weight on top of him, his hands kneading your ass slowly, smacking it here and there for his enjoyment. his lips curve into a smile against your folds when you jolt and moan from the impact.
his movements may be slow, but they're not without purpose--all his effort is focused on pleasing you and making you come in his mouth.
when he's really too tired to the point he can't even find it in himself to stroke his cock as he tastes you, he'll hump the air, desperately rubbing against the fabric of his pants, coming in his boxers as you reach your climax.
it all started when your friends invited you over for a girls’ night. and up until then, everything was fine, considering your boyfriend isn’t controlling, possessive, or anything like that. he’s confident and knows you'd never do anything behind his back. so yeah, zero issues with you hanging out with your girls.
but… in a skirt that’s basically the size of a belt? seriously?
at first, you didn’t even think anything was gonna happen. all dressed up, full face of makeup, smelling amazing, you went to give him a goodbye kiss.
“leaving already?” sitting in front of his computer, all bundled up in sweatpants and a hoodie, he smiled softly — handsome as ever. he turned toward you, wrapping his hands around your waist and looking at you tenderly. “you look gorgeous, babe. makes me not even wanna let you leave like this.”
“you know i’d stay, but i’ve already canceled on the girls so many times,” you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his big hands slide down from your waist to your very visible thighs. “i miss them, too.”
“yeah, i know.”
he stroked your thighs even more, looking up at you with an innocent expression.
and you definitely should’ve known better.
“isn’t this skirt a little too short, though?” he pushed you back slightly to get a better look from a distance. “jesus, babe.”
you looked down, following his gaze. his hands crept up the skirt, exposing your lacy panties. not like it took much effort to reveal anything anyway.
“babe!”
“what?” playing dumb, he looked up at you as if he were in utter disbelief. “i barely did anything. one little tug and look at that… whole pair of panties right out in the open. cute ones, too.”
his fingers slid up, exploring the lace. you didn’t even know why you let him (actually, you totally knew!), especially since you were already late.
“i don’t even wanna imagine what these creeps out there would think seeing you in this.”
his thumb pressed against your center, massaging you softly through the fabric. his bright eyes never left the lace. you let out a sigh.
“babe, i really need to–”
he didn’t let you finish. in one swift motion, he pulled your panties down.
and that’s how you ended up in this situation. god, how were you even gonna explain flaking on your friends in the group chat later?
your face is buried in the pillow. one of his hands is holding you in place by the back of your head while the other grips your hip. your spine is arched, and his cock is fucking you raw, driving into you at an unbelievable rhythm. your moans get higher and higher with every hard thrust, hitting that little spot of yours with total precision.
“you like that, babe?” he asks, but it’s obvious. “little whore really thought she was gonna go out in that fucking micro skirt, didn’t she?”
“fuck… ah, baby–! — you whine, your eyes rolling back. you feel every single inch of him deep inside your tight pussy, ruining you, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with just penetration alone. holy shit, jealousy looks so good on him. “‘m sorry, sorry, sorry–
“yeah, you better fucking be,” his response is just as rough as his thrusts. you whine even harder. “fucking slut. that’s what you are, right? my pretty girl is actually just a little whore?”
“no, i’m not–”
“then why were you gonna go out looking like that? wanted other guys checking out what’s mine? lost your fucking mind?”
you can’t even process what he’s saying.
“babe, please…”
“save it,” he lets out a weak, mocking laugh, sounding a bit frustrated. he pulls out of you completely and flips you over on the bed, pinning you onto your back. he takes his time soaking in the absolute mess you are. just as drop-dead gorgeous as you were earlier. “i’m gonna show you who the only person allowed to see you like this is.”
he shoves your thighs up against your chest, his grip firm enough to leave marks on your skin. he slides right back in, pussy already missing your man’s dick.
“look at me,” he groans. with effort, you bring your teary eyes up to meet his. a breathless laugh escapes his lips. “look at who you belong to.”
you let out a weak moan, keeping your eyes locked onto his. you can’t even look away anymore — even with a bit of embarrassment mixed with the absolute fuckload of pleasure making you wanna close your eyes.
“feels so good” your words come out whimpering and high-pitched. “you're so fucking good, holy shit–”
“say you’re mine,” he speeds up, “tell me you’re my slut. only mine, my little slut.”
“i’m yours, only yours, baby…” you say it, and you mean every single word. the softness in your eyes, mixed with pure lust. fuck, so damn pretty. “yours, only yours… your slut, your fucktoy– fuck! your girl!”
“shit” he drives into you with even more precision, grunting, sweat glistening on his forehead.
“i’m gonna–” so close. so fucking close. “don’t– don’t stop!”
“shit, god,” he murmurs, “cum. cum with me, please.”
when he asks you like that, there’s no way you can resist. your orgasm hits you with full force just a few seconds later.
“good girl. good fucking girl” he keeps going, drawing out your wave of pleasure while chasing his own edge. “my good fucking girl.”
he lets out a long, husky groan as you pulse tightly around him, and soon enough you milk every last drop out of him, making him fill you up while making the sweetest sounds right in your ear. you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close to you for a little longer. sticky bodies, sweaty bodies, pressed together.
he slowly pulls out, trailing soft kisses across your face, chest, stomach... letting out a sigh at the sight of his cum dripping from your well-used, trembling hole.
“you did so good, princess,” he plants a kiss right on your clit with a soft chuckle, then pushes himself up over you again to press one onto your lips. “sorry ‘bout the girls’ night.”
❤︎ SYNOPSIS: a series of unfortunate events have resulted in you going commando for a day. and, maybe hanta’s losing his mind after a month long dry spell.
❤︎ CONTENT: f!reader, boyfriend!hanta, pro hero!hanta, journalist!reader, though it has no bearing on the story tbh, weed/alcohol mentions, pap smear mentions, semi (?) public sex, fingering … 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: hanta sero’s only personality trait is shamelessness.
♫ NOW PLAYING: bluffin’, joji with the kid laroi
read on ao3 | 2.5k words | masterlist.
HANTA IS HAVING a horrible day.
A horrible month, actually. He’s been overwhelmed and busy with hero stuff—a robbery here, an accident there, an occasional sting operation in the corner. And, you’ve been overwhelmed and busy trying to catalogue it all, working overtime for the local newspaper in the Pro Hero department. All you two have time for outside of work are exhausted, silent dinners, and sleep. After a long month of stress with no relief, finally, you both had a Friday off.
Unfortunately, so did the rest of the squad.
“Gummy bears! Gimme, gimme, gimme—”
Rolling his eyes, Hanta pulls a pack from his pocket, and chucks it at Denki’s face. Hard.
The electric blond whines in the seat in front of him, cupping the side of his throbbing face before adjusting to give a proper glare from the middle row of Katsuki’s mini-van.
Hanta just wanted to chill. Possibly put on a movie you two will barely watch anyway—whether it ended with sex or sleep, he didn’t care—but, no. Everyone wanted to go to a bar tonight, and he figured that if he didn’t respond to the group chat, if he left Denki’s text on read, they’d get the message: Hanta Sero is not available. Instead, Denki circumvented him, and texted you instead.
Hanta was pissed for the pregame, and he’s pissed now.
You slap at your boyfriend's hand, the offending one, the one that threw the pack of gummy bears that Denki had him carry—because, apparently, ‘the pockets in these jeans are just as skinny as me—mwah.’
(Hanta doesn’t give a fuck. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care—everybody go away.)
“That’s not nice,” you reprimand, like you’re any better with your friends. Hanta huffs, and pulls you closer by your hip. Your dress is sinful—tight enough to become your skin, to be in it, and Hanta is obsessively jealous. (Has been, since he first saw you in it.) At least, its only you two in the backseat. At least, he can have that.
“Hell yeah—you tell him, Y/N!” Denki shouts, a little too loud for the confines of a car. Katsuki groans from the drivers seat, digging a knuckle in his ear.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Denki,” you start, and he turns to you with hopeful eyes. Hanta wishes he would evaporate on the spot.
“Yes?”
“Shut the fuck up,” you snort with a smile, and take Mina’s fist bump in stride. While Katsuki cackles, Hanta hides a smile in your shoulder. That’s my girl.
“Thank you, Baby,” Hanta coos, squeezing your waist tighter. God, you feel good.
“Please,” you brush it off, and turn your body until you can look at him with suspicious eyes. “You’ve been a brat all evening.”
Hanta plays a saccharine splutter, placing an upset hand over his chest. (Just for it to return exactly where it belongs—drifting along your waist and hips, squeezing as he sees fit.) “Me? I’m not a brat.”
“You are very much a brat,” you nod, and the hand on your side drifts lower, fiddling with the slit in your dress. “You’re being the textbook definition of a brat—stop pouting.”
Your thumb lifts to pull the exaggerated pout out of Hanta’s lips—a pout that turns into a grin, as he tucks the finger into his mouth and sucks. Your eyes grow wide and inhale sharp, before you snatch it away from him, and wipe it off on his shirt.
“Stop it,” you hiss with narrowed eyes. Hanta watches your lips and bites his own. His hand curls beneath the slit of your dress to touch bare skin, and he groans at the feeling.
“Stop what?”
His hand slides further, up your skirt and to your side—preferably, to fidget with the lacy edge of your panties for a bit, because he loves making himself his life infinitely harder. It glides until meeting your hip, only to find nothing but skin.
Fucking nothing.
“…Baby,” Hanta says warily, and speaks into your ear, low and much steadier than he feels. “Where did your panties go?”
You look caught—frozen, with your lips pursed, like he wasn’t even supposed to find out.
You lick your lips, and immediately fling into a defense. “So, um, I had a pap smear today.”
Which, doesn’t answer his question, so Hanta just nods. “Mhm…”
“And, uh, it made my underwear all lube-y, and I went straight from there to Denki’s, so. It was uncomfy…they’re in my purse.”
You rush the last sentence, face swelling with guilt. Hanta…swells in other ways.
“Fuck, Babe,” he groans, resting his head on the back seat until his jawline pops. “You serious?”
And, yes, obviously you’re serious—at least about the commando part. Hanta feels around like the panties could be hiding somewhere, pressed into your skin too tight or too high, but, no. No panties. No fucking panties.
Hanta wants to fuck. Like, now.
He moans in your ear again, breath hot and laced with alcohol. It’s not just his dick—his whole body throbs with want, overdue and pent up from this last month of absolute chaos. And, while it isn’t possible for you to be any closer, somehow he manages, until you’re practically crowded against the seat.
No one’s paying attention—Katsuki is white knuckling the steering wheel because Denki threw a gummy bear, Eijirō’s trying to placate both of them while turning the stereo up, and Mina records from her phone with the flash on. Perfect. Hanta turns to you.
“No, no,” you chastise him like a bad dog, and Hanta doesn’t care—if anything, he wants you to do it again. And again, and preferably jump on his dick while you’re at it. “Absolutely not.”
Hanta clicks his tongue, “Baby, c’mon, why not?”
“What do you—” you gesture to the packed van with an appalled look. “Why not? Because we’re in a car. With people.”
The argument comes in quiet, hushed whispers in the darkening back seat. The grip Hanta has on your waist slides in between your thighs, and you slam them shut with a huff. Hanta whimpers. A little.
“So? No one’s gonna notice,” he shrugs, and his hand inches higher, closer.
“They are definitely going to notice!”
“Not if you stay quiet,” he reasons, along with a placating kiss to your neck. You cut him with a glare, but shiver, and loosen the lock of your legs, slightly. Enough.
“I hate you,” you hiss—but you don’t. Hanta knows you don’t, because you’re fucking soaked, holy shit. Like you can hear his inner thoughts—and read the smug surprise on his face—you rush to defend yourself. “Fucking what? You’ve been touching me all night.”
You sulk and cross your arms, glaring at fuzzy street lamps as they pass through the window. Hanta doesn’t do much but trace your folds, determined to drag this out, and his eyes flutter closed in memory.
“God, I missed you,” he huffs, dropping his head on your shoulder. Even if someone looked back here, they wouldn’t know what’s happening, not unless they have a flashlight and point it at your feet. Oh, he’s totally doing this.
You seem to like it too, and shudder when his voice hits your ear. Hanta wants more—he wants to spread your legs apart and fit himself in between, but he can make do. He can totally make do.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t miss you,” you growl, and while Hanta wants to say something smart, like ‘who’s calling who a brat,’ he bites his tongue. He bites it, and swallows, because god forbid you keep him from his glory. He needs you. Now.
“Y’sure about that, Baby?” His fingers trace light and aimless circles around your pussy, dipping in and out, tracing your folds and moving around your clit like it’s for fun. And, it is—for fun. “I think she does.”
To prove his point, Hanta stuffs you full with a finger and an obscenely quiet squelch. He groans at the stretch, and you whimper, still insistent on staring out the window. Hanta grins, and tucks his chin on your shoulder, just to watch. Up close.
“Positiv—fuck.”
Hanta inserts another finger and you keel over, grabbing the door handle for stability. Then, you turn to him in a huff—like he did something wrong.
“Y’gotta be quiet, Babe.” Hanta coos, mainly because he knows it’ll get your blood boiling. You drip all over his moving fingers and onto the back of your dress, possibly seeping into the seat—which, Katsuki might kill him for. That’s only half a thought, one that quickly goes away once your hand comes to wrap around his wrist. You don’t apply enough pressure to stop him, though.
“Fuck you,” you hiss, head dropping onto the window—which, might be another thing Katsuki might kill him for, but whatever. Your jaw jumps as you stifle a moan behind grit teeth, and what Hanta would pay to hear it. Too much money. He’d be broke, actually.
“But Babe, we’re in a car full of people,” Hanta huffs in faux offense, and you open your eyes, fuming.
“I’m going to—”
“Kill me, or cum?” And, he grins when you shove him in the shoulder. It doesn’t halt the speed of his fingers, though. If anything, it spurs them faster. “And, if its both, can you kill me after you cum?”
You give him an exasperated look, but say nothing. Just collapse against the seat, chest fluttering with unsteady breaths, and eyes tracking with heavy lids.
Then, after licking your lips to start a sentence only to be cut off by his dexterity twice, you finally manage, very seriously:
“I am going to strangle you.”
“After you cum, right?”
“No,” you shake your head, with something absolutely incendiary in your eyes. “I’m going to strangle you, and then use your dying fingers to fuck myself.”
Hanta blinks for a second. Then, his wide grin slides even wider, as he leans in to whisper, “Kinky.”
With a huff, you grab his hardening dick through his pants.
“Oh fuck!”
That was loud. And, that was Hanta.
“Don’t fuck in my car, Scotch Tape,” Katsuki warns through the rear view mirror, and Hanta wheezes a laugh when your hand disappears. While his fingers slow, they don’t stop.
“I’m not, I…uh, stubbed my toe.”
Which, isn’t the best lie in the world, but isn’t the worst. Katsuki grumbles something unsavory under his breath, but looks away like he believes him. Thank fuck.
“What the hell?” Hanta whispers once all eyes are off him, and you cheese with an evil little smile.
“Oh, doesn’t feel too good, does it?”
“No, it felt really good—that’s the problem,” he huffs a weak laugh into your neck, and prays you won’t squeeze him like that again, holy shit. (It’s either that, or he really, really wants you to squeeze him like that again, but it’s probably not a great idea.) “But, touché. Message received.”
“Horndog,” you mutter, like you’re not the one leaking everywhere.
To prove his internal point—and, your external point, though not on purpose—he pulls out both fingers and sticks them in his mouth. You immediately look around the car in a panic, to check if anyone’s watching. They’re not. You bat the hand out of his mouth regardless.
“Stop it,” you hiss. Hanta pouts, fingers finding your clit before dipping into you again.
“Or what,” he whispers, and his free hand finds your thigh, rubbing it slowly as if to soothe. “Y’gonna leave me? I don’t think I could take it, Babe. What’s this pretty pussy supposed to do without me?”
“It would live a long and full life,” you growl, before returning to your oh so guilty position by the window. They just got off the freeway, still stuck on the off-ramp—meaning, there’s not much time to make you cum before they arrive to the bar. Noted.
“No, she’d live a boring one,” he nods, and clicks his tongue. “Stuck with a man that doesn’t know how to treat her right—that’s no way to live.”
“Shut—”
“Hanta, more gummy bears!” Denki whines, and stomps his feet like a child. Katsuki berates him for kicking the seats, and you freeze, body clenching around frozen fingers. Hanta chucks the rest of the bags at Denki’s face—all three.
Denki scrambles to pick them up from the floor. Hanta hopes he won’t be bothered again.
His fingers resume their pace.
“Hanta, I swear to God,” you growl, whirling to him with fire in your eyes. The crack in your voice betrays your fury, and Hanta’s obsessed with it, actually—the way you try to act like you’re still mad, but can’t.
“But Babe,” he whines, and lands a small bite on your shoulder because he can. “Wanna make you cream on my fingers before we get there…Can you do that, for me?”
Your chest stutters in the way it always does when you’re close. You squeeze around his fingers so tight he worries they might snap, and his dick cries in his jeans, actually. Literally sobs.
“I don’t want to,” you say through grit teeth. It sounds like there’s more to that sentence, though.
“But…”
“But, I might,” you say, defeated, and glare out the window in shame. Your pussy squeezes around him in agreement, and yes. Hanta picks a steady pace, and keeps at it.
“Oh, please do,” Hanta insists with a nod. The only thing he’s a little salty about is the fact that he can’t watch it happen—can’t watch your pretty pussy flutter around his fingers as he pushes you to the edge, can’t take a taste when he wants. “Please, feel free.”
You snort, and finally look at him with something other than annoyance (or horniness)—amusement.
“You’re so stupid.”
Hanta beams, “You love it.”
Now, he knows the way to the bar like the back of his hand—knows exactly which turns lead where. And, while the car is stopped at a light, he knows that one more block, and you’ll have to get out the car.
“C’mon Baby, let me feel you,” he pleads. His wrist is cramping, but he doesn’t really care—no, he cares about the way your chest balloons, jaw dropping before you have the wherewithal to pick it up, lips forming a cute little line as you finally let go. Your eyes flutter until all he sees are the whites, and Hanta’s a little bummed that he didn’t think to record. Next time.
The car finally rolls to a stop in front of valet. Everyone files out except for the two trapped in the backseat—Hanta, and you.
He takes advantage of the momentary privacy—the amount of time it takes for Katsuki to come around the other side and open the door—to take your fingers back into his mouth, and outwardly groan at the sweetness.
You shove him in the shoulder, light enough for it to be a joke. “I hate you. So much, actually.”
The shove is light, but Hanta moves regardless, body loose with love, and maybe, a little obsession. He gives you a chaste kiss on the lips—nothing that represents the last twenty minutes—and sighs at the feeling. He missed you.
When he pulls away, his lips are coated in your gloss, and Katsuki’s busy grumbling to Eijirō about something over his shoulder to pay much attention as he hikes the seat forward to let you to out. With a last kiss to your cheek, Hanta grins.
synopsis: uh oh, you bought a cart from plug sero but forgot your wallet!! However are you gonna pay? 🫣
Exactly fifteen minutes later, you slipped out the front door of your apartment building, hoodie pulled over your head as the evening breeze brushed against your skin.
Across the nearly empty parking lot sat a matte black hellcat with its headlights off.
You recognized it instantly, obviously. Who could miss it.
Sero was lounging in the driver's seat with one arm hanging out of the open window, lazily scrolling on his phone. Music played quietly through the speakers, just loud enough to hear the bass from a few parking spaces away.
He looked up the moment he heard your footsteps.
A grin spread across his face.
"Took you long enough."
"I was literally on time." You fired back.
"Barely."
You walked up to the driver's side window and rested your forearms on the door.
"You got it?"
Sero reached over to the passenger seat, grabbing a small paper bag before holding it up with a smirk.
"You think I'd show up with nothing?"
"I think you just want to see me sometimes."
"Is that why you keep texting me?"
You laughed, shaking your head.
"How much?"
"Thirty."
You reached into the pocket of your jacket.
Then the other one.
Your smile faded instantly.
"..."
Sero watched the confidence slowly leave your face.
"...What's with the face?"
You checked your back pockets.
Nothing.
Your purse.
Nothing.
"...You've gotta be kidding me."
"What?"
"I..." you let out a groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. "I left my wallet in my apartment."
Sero raised an eyebrow.
"No Apple Pay?"
"My phones dead."
Another beat of silence.
You looked at him with an apologetic smile.
"I swear I'm not trying to scam you."
He chuckled, leaning back in his seat.
"I know."
"I can run upstairs really quick!"
"Nah."
"I'll be two minutes."
He tilted his head, pretending to think it over.
"...Or."
You narrowed your eyes immediately.
"...Or?"
A slow grin spread across his face.
"I've got another payment method in mind."
You crossed your arms.
"This should be good."
He clicked the car off. The hum of the engine died. He reached for the seatbelt, releasing it with a soft click.
"Get in."
He didn't wait for a response. Just reached over and pulled the passenger door open from inside, leaving it hanging.
"Jeez, okay." You said as you climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door.
"I'll give you the cart now..."
He handed you the bag.
"And in return..."
He pointed at you.
"Let me taste you."
You blinked, and let out a small huff before answering, "...Excuse me?"
"You heard me mami, let me taste you, and I'll forget about the money."
"Do you mean like... a kiss... or..." you quietly muttered, avoiding his sharp gaze.
He exhaled hard. Slow. Like he was counting to ten before doing something incredibly stupid. His hand on the headrest shifted, fingers brushing against your hair but not quite touching. Not yet, at least.
"Oral. Your lips. Your pussy."
"Sero... I'm like.. so confused." you couldn't help but fidget with your skirt, literally looking anywhere but his face.
He watched the panic flush your cheeks, the way your pretty curls bounced when you shifted. He didn't smirk. And he certainly wasn't playing games. He just sat there, deadpan, waiting for your brain to catch up.
"Just a couple minutes mami, just wanna know what she tastes like."
His fingers tapped the steering wheel.
"You're so lucky I actually think you're hot," you began shimmying out of your skirt, letting it drop down onto the floorboards of the car.
His jaw tightened when he saw your panties, some lacy pink thing that matched your personality. Go figures. "I'm a fortunate motherfucker," he agreed, voice dipping lower. The car was way too small suddenly.
His eyes flicked down. The pink panties. Your thighs. The way the streetlight filtered through the windshield catching the curls falling over your shoulders. He exhaled slowly.
"Get in the back," his voice commanded immediate attention.
You embarrassingly scrambled to the backseat, watching him follow suit.
He leaned over you, his rough hand wrapping around your ankle, pulling your leg up and positioning it to rest against the headrest of the backseat. He stared at the lacy pink fabric. Not even blinking. "Take 'em off."
"You wanna taste it so bad, YOU take it off." You huffed in disbelief.
He stared at you. The sass. The fucking attitude. The absolute audacity. He leaned in, grabbing your ankle tighter.
"Watch the fucking mouth."
He hooked his thumbs into the lace waistband, slowly dragging them down your thighs and over your knees. He tossed them onto the dashboard up front without breaking eye contact.
He dropped his head immediately. No warning. No teasing build up. He flattened his tongue and dragged a slow, heavy stripe through your folds, collecting the slick already leaking there. The taste hit him instantly. A mixture of sweet, messy, and absolutely fucking addictive.
His hands locked onto your thighs, forcing them open wider. He licked your clit once, deliberately.
"Keep your thighs open f'me,"
"ok..s-sero," you couldn't help but be breathless in the moment, I mean, there was nothing else happening besides your local dealer eating you out. Like that's a regular daily activity.
Hearing his name fall from your shaking lips hit his bloodstream harder than any strain he ever sold. He hummed low against your clit, the vibration making your thighs twitch under his grip. His mouth sealed over your bud, sucking hard, flattening his tongue to lap up every drop of slick you could ever manage to gave him.
Your taste was ridiculous. Sweet vanilla lotion lingered on your thighs, mixed with something heady, intoxicating. Like candy. His tongue slid into your slit, curling upward to find that little nub. Suckered it hard, holding you there. His grip could bruise your thighs if he really tried to. He couldn't stop staring down at your pussy like it was a puzzle he was solving. A ridiculously wet, slippery puzzle of course.
His thumb found your already puffy lips, pulling them wide to get better access.
His tongue moved with perfect ease, slow laps that drove directly into your hole, curling upward to drag all of your wetness out before sucking your clit into his mouth. Hard. ruthless, focused pressure designed to break you down. He didn't make a sound, just wet, messy noises filling the car. Your thighs were trembling under his grip.
You attempted to clamp your thighs closed, that delicious coil forming low in your stomach, ready to come undone. "Sero!! go- go uhm! Slower!"
He could feel your legs shaking. He knew he was hitting the right spots, his tongue working you like a key unlocking a door. He pulled back suddenly, his breath hot against all of your most sensitive flesh as he looked up at you. "Spread wider." His voice was rough, and much deeper than usual.
"Fuck! I'm so so close, please, please-!" the only sounds in the car were the sounds of him lapping up your cunt, and your moans and whimpers.
That was his green light. He didn't speed up, instead he locked down. His tongue flattened against your clit, vibrating it in rapid, relentless circles while his thumb kept perfect, agonizing pressure on your entrance. He sealed his mouth over your pussy, sucking. Coaxing your orgasm on.
"Let go." He mumbled muffed against you. "Don't hold it. Give it to me, all of it."
"oh shit mmm im cumming, fuck please Sero don't stop!" Your words were messy, desperate, breaking him out of his focused silence. He groaned against your pussy, the sound vibrating straight into your clit as you came apart onto his tongue. He didn't let up. Kept sucking, licking, encouraging every twitch and shudder with his mouth.
He watched your orgasm. Saw the way your belly tensed, how your thighs were quivering beneath his hands. Heard the broken whimpers falling from your lips. He memorized it all, your taste, your sounds, the way you look when you cum.
"Ooohhh my god," You sighed.
He slowed his movements, lapping gently at your sensitive flesh as you came down from your high. His hands slid up your thighs soothingly, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs before pulling back completely. He sat up straight, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You good?"
📼- The guy is kind of a perv, not to Kaminari’s level and even less Mineta’s, but he will text you at random times asking you to ‘come over and snuggle a little’ which is his excuse for ‘I wanna bury my head in the crook of your neck and die there’
📼- Has been called Spiderman by kids so many times the media now references to him as ‘Hero Cellophane, or as fans call him, Spiderman’, he developed the habit of kissing you while dangling from the ceiling as well, sometimes spooking you
📼- Ran out of boob tape? He’s here to save the day, just tell him where to shoot and he’ll oblige, no questions asked. He will be staring though, and he might want to just ravage you right there, but that depends on how late you two are
📼- Forgets to do the laundry when it’s his turn or to take the chicken out of the freezer, he will apologize like a billion times but still do it again. You’ve tried to set reminders on his phone, but with all the hero calls he now can’t tell the two apart.
📼- Never uses the word ‘sex’ for some reason, he’ll claim that sex only happens with someone you don’t truly love, so for you he’ll say you’re ‘making love’, which didn’t immediately stick with you, but he made sure you saw the difference
📼- If you’re a hero too, he will try to get his agency as close as possible to yours, he’ll lie and say it was cheaper, but in reality he just wants to have you closer so he can swing by. He will send a sidekick of his to your agency to bring you coffee or a sweet treat just because he thought about you, his sidekick will complain a bit, but he’s actually happy for Sero
📼- When you’re at home together he sometimes will put on music and dance with you, slow movements, a lot of kisses and laughter, and half singing half guessing the lyrics. He’s made now over five playlists with all your favorite music, each one for a different purpose, even when you two are just cooking, he’ll put something on.
📼- Grabs you with his tape when you’re too far away, maybe he wants cuddles, maybe your shirt is messed up, maybe he just wants to snatch you away, he’ll shoot his tape out and wrap it around you, pulling you safely in his arms before unwrapping you, giving your forehead a couple of kisses
⛧°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °⛧
Just some stuff I had on my mind about our sticky tape boy! I tried to make the text more colors, but no matter what site I use, it won’t work 😭. Send requests!
