Whorefornoodles - :4

“baby, i have some bad news.”

if it weren’t for the goofy smile on kuroo’s face, you’d be a little more concerned by his words.

he’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs—all dolled up in his white dress shirt and black trousers. his interview with the jva is in about an hour’s time, so of course you dragged yourself out of bed to see him off—for good luck and whatnot.

“ugh you’re right, that tie does not match,” you grin, wrapping your blanket around yourself as you stroll down the remaining steps. his tie is solid black, but you thought a joke would do him some good—that, and you just wanted to see the priceless look on his face.

“first of all, ouch.” he clutches his heart with his right hand, feigning hurt as he passes you the coffee mug from his left. “and second of all, it’s pouring out.”

“so? you’re not made of sugar,” you hum, slowly shuffling into the kitchen as you sip at the hot beverage. he trails not far behind, stopping beside you as you watch the droplets stream down the window.

“i mean, i am pretty sweet,” he grins, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.

“i think it’s pronounced lame,” you laugh. he peers down at you, and you can see the indent in his cheek from him biting down on the flesh—because heaven forbid you make him laugh.

he drops his arm from your shoulders, and swipes the coffee right out from under your nose. leaning against the counter, he tilts the cup back and downs the entire thing, finishing with an extra obnoxious ahh.

“as i was saying,” he pauses, sliding the empty mug onto the counter with a satisfied smirk. “you’ve seen my hair when it’s wet—totally not professional.”

“right, because your hair is so professional to begin with,” you respond, choking back a laugh of your own.

“hey, business in the front.” he smoothes a hand over his fringe before spinning on his heels and ruffling the locks at the rear of his head. “party in the back.”

“did you put that on your resume?” you ask, smiling as you watch him reach for a new coffee pod. he presses a few buttons, and within seconds you have a brand new cup brewing.

“yeah, i did.” he plants his hands on your hips, caging you between himself and the counter. “right under the paragraph about how sweet i am.”

he kisses you, and it’s innocent—no ulterior motives in sight. that is, until you pull him back in by his tie. you knew what you were doing, lighting that fire under his ass. now he’s overwhelming. the way he’s wedging his knee between your legs, taunting you with his little gasps that spill into your mouth—it’s making your head spin.

“how long do we have?” you breathe out, the urge to give him a little more than luck becoming all consuming.

he glances down, squinting to make out the tiny hands on his wrist. twelve minutes until he has to leave—more than enough time. he grips the back of your thighs, guiding you up onto the marble surface. the blanket that once hugged your figure is now discarded onto the floor, and now the warmth comes from his hands as they begin to wonder.

it’s the two of you versus the clock, and he’s not thinking with his head anymore—not that he usually does. he presses himself against you with force, and you have to plant your hands on the countertop for balance. but, it feels rather wet, and hot—and now the scorching cup of coffee that was waiting for you is settling into the fabric of kuroo’s dress pants. don’t get him wrong, he was all for making a mess, just not this kind.

“tetsu i,” you gasp, eyes widening as he pulls back with a hiss. the stain forming on his pants is practically invisible due to the dark material, but unfortunately for him—the splash zone wasn’t limited to just his lower half. “i have some bad news.”

They were , — Yuki was sacred to me .

there are reasons why a body stays in motion

summary: you work too hard—kita knows it the second he meets you. he’s not expecting you to take him up on his offer. you don’t either, until you end up on his farm.

tags: shinsuke kita x reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, smut (oral, reader receiving), afab reader (no pronouns used, terms for body parts used("clit")), reader is a first responder, kita is a mother hen wc: 4.7k

the farmer’s market is quiet. mostly because it hasn’t opened yet.

you walk between stalls as the owners of them set up, smiling softly at those who greet you. it’s still a little dark out—the grass under your feet still a little dewy without a sun to warm it. if you were anyone else, you might still be in bed.

but you never made it to bed. in fact, you’ve been up for more hours than you care to count. that much is obvious by the way you sway slightly on your feet in front of Hanaka’s tomatoes.

“hey, you,” she murmurs, affectionate and maternal—reaching beneath the wood top to grab the coffee she’s brought you, as is your weekly tradition. “long night?”

“mm,” you hum around the plastic lid, tipping your head back. the coffee is a little bitter and a little grainy, but it doesn’t matter. truthfully, you’ve been up for so long that things are starting to lose their taste. in this case, that might be for the best. “on call. the phone just kept ringing.”

she nods, sympathy apparent on her face, and you know she understands. Hanaka is retired now—blissfully so, she says—but when you met, she was your coworker. she’d adopted you as some sort of pseudo-child, teaching you and looking out for you. it was a loss when she left, but you were happy she finally was getting to rest. when you found out she’d reserved a stall at the market, you made the effort to be there. even if it meant losing out on your rest.

“silly of you to come straight here,” she admonishes you sweetly, in the way that only she can. it makes you smile.

“and let the coffee get cold? never.”

she rolls her eyes, turning to busy herself with stacking deep green cucumbers into weaved baskets. you let your eyes roam the spread in front of you, reaching to brush a fingertip over the waxy skin of a tomato. your stomach growls—abrupt, and loud.

Hanaka snorts, shaking her head as she calibrates the scale. “head down the row,” she says, pointing in front of her without looking, “there’s a stand that does rice.”

you feel a bit like a zombie as you move among the crowd—still mostly vendors, until you can smell someone cooking. your feet bring you to a halt in front of a grey-haired man, shaping neat triangles of rice around what appears to be pickled cabbage and bean curd. your mouth waters.

"we're not quite open yet—oh." he pauses when he looks up at you, concern immediate and all over his face, "you need to sit down, darlin'?"

it makes you laugh. "is it that bad?"

he smiles at you, directing the man to his left to bring you a folding chair. you thank him, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. when you look up, there's an expertly assembled onigiri in your face.

"ah." it's warm in your fingers and you fight the urge to unhinge your jaw and shove the entire thing in your mouth. "thank you...?"

"Kita," he says, and his smile is kind in a way that feels a little disarming this early in the morning, "don't mention it. can't have you passin' out in front of my stall—s'bad for business."

you chuckle around a mouth full of rice—and holy shit, is it good. you try to tell him that, but to stop eating does not feel like an option. it makes him laugh.

"glad to hear it. can't take credit for the recipe—but the rice is from me."

"you're a farmer?"

"mm. have been for more than a few years now. just started comin' to the market though."

you nod, shoving the last of the onigiri in your mouth and greatly suppressing the urge to lick the stray bits of grain off your fingers.

he goes back to work, packing and shaping in a way that feels casual, but you have a hunch that the motions are some that he's practiced greatly. your lack of sleep emboldens you to let your eyes wander—his hands are calloused and careful, and it's obvious what he does just by the look of them. corded muscle flexes under sun tanned forearms as he shapes each onigiri with great focus, and you find yourself fascinated by the repetition.

"y'think you're closer to livin' now?"

you look up and find his eyes already on you, mirth all over his face. you grin, caught, warmth spreading up your neck.

"think so. what do i owe you?"

"nothin'," he waves you off, brown eyes crinkling. "just go take a nap."

you smile—warmed by his generosity. you get up and leave of rough estimate of coins on top of his register anyway. "see you later then, Kita."

.

..

later comes quicker than you thought. the very next week, as it turns out. you're a little more rested when you see him again, and it's the first thing he notices.

"y'look like you slept." he says by way of a greeting, handing you another perfectly formed onigiri—this time with pickled plum and what you suspect is salmon. it falls apart decadently in your mouth, the flavors complimentary and not overpowering against the rice. it's good.

"i did," you tell him around a mouth full, "wasn't on call last night."

he smiles, gentle around his eyes, as he watches you. "work?"

you nod. "social work—kids, mostly."

he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. he considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

"so not sleepin' is normal for ya."

you shrug, avoiding his gaze. it's a little too early in the day to feel chastised by a man you only just met last week, even if he is admittedly a little handsome and insists on feeding you. he sighs, reaching for a stray piece of register paper.

"you like ducks?"

"like, the bird?" you look up at him, eyebrows arched in confusion. "yeah, i suppose i do."

he smiles down at the paper, scribbling a few lines down on it and handing it to you. "have a few babies that just hatched in the paddies. come by and see 'em if you ever feel like y'need a rest."

he waves you off, turning back to his work, and leaves you a little shellshocked as you look down at the paper. it has an address on it—for what you assume is his farm. you fold it neatly and push it down into the pocket of your jeans with the mental reminder of taking it out before you wash them. you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you turn and head back down the lane, dodging a few folks that are entering the market. you have a few hours before work—just enough time to knock out on the couch.

.

..

a few weeks later, you find yourself bouncing down a rocky lane, rice paddies on either side of the thin road. you figure you have to be in the right place, but feel a little nervous until you arrive to a little cabin at the end of the gravel, the numbers on your paper painted neatly on the side of the mailbox.

it's late—probably too late to be stopping by unannounced—but Kita didn't give you a phone number, and the day had been long. the thought of baby ducks and looking at anything that wasn't the blue light of your laptop felt like a lifeline.

he's leaning against the doorframe as you shut the car door behind you. you smile when you see him—maybe sneaking a little peak at the way his white t-shirt stretches around the biceps he has crossed over his chest. he doesn't say anything until you clear the porch steps.

"y'alright?" he asks quietly. it's a little startling—you're always careful not to let the effects of the day show. you feel exposed in front of him, and it has you shifting on your feet.

"i believe i was promised baby ducks."

the corners of his eyes crinkle and you find yourself genuinely charmed. he doesn't acknowledge your lack of an answer, and you're grateful for it.

"sit," he says, gesturing to a wooden rocker on the porch, "i'll grab 'em."

you do as he says, leaning back and taking in the view. the sun simmers a deep red on the horizon, bathing everything in it's hue. the paddies stretch on for what feels like miles. the house itself feels like an island—the one lane road it's only connection to life beyond it.

the rocker creaks as you push your toe against the porch, swaying gently back and forth. it's quiet, save for the chirp of the cicadas and the occasional bloat of a bullfrog. you jump when you feel something furry rub against your shin.

you look down and are greeted by an orange cat with the most round cheeks you've ever seen. old and a little ratty, it chirps at you, headbutting your leg.

"hello there," you smile, bending forward to scratch behind it's ears. "where'd you come from?"

"that's Barn Cat," Kita says, trudging up the wooden steps. "he hangs out in the fields."

you chuckle, looking up at him. "his name is Barn Cat?

"yup," his grin is contagious. you let your eyes roam around him, looking for the ducks he was supposed to get. they stop on the pouch he's created out of his shirt—widening as you hear several little quacks come from inside of it.

"hold out yer hands," he says, standing in front of you now. you do as your told, and a few seconds later, there's a teeny tiny baby in your palms.

"oh my god," you breathe, not quite able to wrap your brain around how something can be so small, "oh my god."

Kita chuckles, smiling when you look up at him. something about it brings you back to this moment—you're suddenly very aware that you've interrupted this man's evening and ordered him around at his own house.

"i'm sorry for showing up like this," you say quietly, running a fingertip over the downy-soft little body that's now nestled in your lap.

"no need. i'm glad yer here."

you can feel that the smile you give him doesn't quite reach your eyes, and you know that he notices.

"long day?"

you hum, watching the tiny duck tail twitch in its sleep. suddenly feeling a little envious of the rest it's able to get, and how simple its life will be. wake up, swim around, eat bugs, go to sleep. it won't ever think about anyone else. its little conscious will always be clear.

"yeah," you murmur. "it was."

he moves to sit down in the rocker next to you, smiling at the little duck that has taken up all of your attention. when you look up, his eyes are gentle and unwavering from yours. you're certain he's looking too deeply, but you know there's nothing you can do.

"i should get going," you say, mostly to convince yourself that it is true. Kita's mouth turns downward for only a moment, and then that soft smile is back again.

"give me yer phone," he murmurs, extending a hand toward you. you shrug, pulling it out and handing it to him. he types something quick and hands it back to you, Shinsuke Kita and a phone number on the screen.

"meant it when i said you can come by anytime," he tells you, hand lingering still in your space. "call me if ya need anything."

.

..

you get to texting, after that. it's funny—he's a man of few typed words, so you learn about his days through pictures. a criminally early shot of the rice paddies. the baby ducks that look bigger each day. Barn Cat sprawled out in the sun on the porch. dinner there, too—filleted tuna and rice under a waning sun. sometimes he calls, when your schedule allows it. the low timbre of his voice through the speaker frequently (and embarrassingly) lulls you to sleep. you have a hunch that he does it on purpose.

you've showed up at the farm enough times now that you're unable to use the excuse of the ducks anymore, especially now that they're bigger and far less cuddly, but neither of you acknowledge it. he starts showing you around. walks across narrow paths in the fields become excuses to bring you inside—into his home. the cabin is quaint and cozy, and decorated in a way that surprises you. pictures cover the walls—some of Kita as an adult, but mostly of Kita as a child, which makes him bashful and you smile. you stop at one of him as a chubby toddler, sitting in the lap of a woman he's clearly the spitting image of.

"that's gram," he says quietly, behind you. "this is her place. i moved out here when she got sick, and then i just..."

"stayed," you whisper, tracing the edge of the frame with your fingertip. he hums, closer to you now.

"didn't feel right t'leave."

you think it's admirable, but you don't want to embarrass him, so you keep it you yourself. he leads you down the hall, pointing out rooms as he goes—bathroom (you can't hide your surprise at the massive clawfoot tub in the center of it. he just shrugs, continuing down the hall—flushed up to his neck. it makes you smile.), guest room ("mostly unoccupied," he says, and you wonder if it was intentional). his bedroom is slightly larger than the guest room and considerably less decorated, but still tastefully so—the bed is large and looks temptingly soft, and the dresser adjacent to it is an antique, heavy and well-loved. you both linger in the doorway, coated in warm lamp light and shoulders brushing, not talking much and still saying a lot between you.

"you hungry?" he asks, voice a little gruff. you shrug, following him into the kitchen. you take a seat at the bar stool on the other side of the counter, watching him work.

he doesn't ask what you want and truthfully, you know he doesn't need to. there hasn't been a time yet that you haven't liked something Kita's made you. he moves with the same fluidity and grace he does at the market—he prepares your food with the same care, too. you watch him blatantly, this time. his brow furrows a little as he plates it. it's cute—it makes you ache.

you're expecting it to be good, but this is really good—unagi over rice, soft and chewy when it hits your tongue. you groan audibly, savoring each bite. Kita grins at you across the counter.

"good?" he asks, even though he doesn't need to.

you nod emphatically, not bothering to pause long enough to answer him.

"good." he looks awfully proud of himself. that ache twists in your chest again. "don't make it too often. glad ya like it."

it's quiet between you as you eat—you try to leave a few extra for him because he was nice enough to make you something so luxurious, but it's hard to stop yourself.

you linger in the cabin for the next hour or so, finding every reason to stay until you can't anymore.

"y'know," Kita mutters, looking a little shy, "yer welcome to stay in that guest bedroom. s'not like anyone else uses it."

he goes red immediately and it makes you smile. you fight yourself hard to keep from teasing him.

"i have to work early tomorrow," for the first time, that fact feels disappointing. "but i'd be happy to next time."

the smile he gives you leaves you a little breathless. "be careful gettin' home."

.

..

next time comes sooner than you thought it would.

the weekend comes and you shoot him a text, asking him what he's doing tonight. his reply comes immediately—whatever you're doing. come over—i'll cook.

you sit outside to watch the sunset after dinner. it goes down past the hills, extinguishing the light like the flame of a candle. you kick your feet out over the rail in front of you. the cicadas sing from their perches in the trees and the paddies look like an undulating, dark sea from where you sit. the only light is the dim bulb above your head, and the stars don’t pay it any mind. bright and shining, you can’t remember a time that you’ve seen so many.

“do you ever get lonely?”

he’s watching you—you can feel your skin warm where his gaze lingers, but you keep yours in front of you. Kita’s been the picture of hospitality, sweet in the way he’s shown care to you—but he’s seldom talked about himself. you feel vulnerable, toeing the line. he’s silent for a moment, and then it stretches on long enough that you start to regret asking.

“s’hard to, out here with all of this noise.” he says it lightheartedly, but you wonder if he’s deflecting. you have your answer a moment later when he says, quieter, “at night, mostly. y’notice when yer the only person for miles.”

you hum, picking at a splinter in the wooden arm of your chair. you feel the same, somehow. though you have trouble understanding how you can feel lonely being around as many people as you are. you tell him as much.

“they don’t really see you though, right?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical. “you help ‘em but it’s one sided. they remember what y'did but they don’t know who you are.”

it never fails to rattle you, his ability to see right through you. your face heats. “that’s the way it should be.”

“sure,” he says, smiling softly. “but it weighs on ya.”

you tuck your knees under your chin and close your eyes—frustrated, knowing that he's right and still wanting to fight him on it. you jump when his knuckles brush against your own.

"i didn't mean to upset ya, darlin'."

"you didn't," you murmur, shaking your head and willing your limbs to relax, "you're right. i just wish you weren't."

he smiles and keeps the back of his hand pressed to yours. it's a sonic interruption to the silence—you're so aware of the warmth of his skin that you feel it in your eardrums. you wonder if he can, too.

it's a while before you speak again—to bid him goodnight, even if you don't want to.

"goodnight, darlin'." his voice is low and soft, nearly a whisper over the cry of cicadas. you still hear it like he screamed it. "extra quilts're in the closet."

it makes you smile, how he can't help but make sure you're comfortable. it would be easy to mistake it for something else—something more.

"goodnight, Kita."

.

..

you get in the car and drive on muscle memory alone. eyes burning, you dial the number you now know by heart.

"hey darlin'," Kita's voice comes through the speaker like a warm blanket. it helps to settle you.

"hi," you croak, immediately wishing you'd taken a minute to get it together before you called him.

there's a pause. "you been cryin'?"

"only a little." you don't see a point in lying to him. "you around?"

"yeah, i'm here—where are you? i'll come get ya, don't want ya drivin' out here upset—"

you let out a wet laugh, shaking your head. "i'm alright, Kita. i'm already halfway there. i just wanted to let you know i'd be over."

there's another pause, and you can hear the way he's fighting with himself on the other end of the line.

"alright," he says finally, "be careful."

he's waiting on the porch steps when you pull up to the cabin. you're barely out of the car before he's pulling you into his chest. new tears threaten to spill over into the fabric of his shirt. you can feel the way he softens himself to hold you—like you'll shatter in his arms if he's not careful.

"c'mon," he whispers into your hair, "let's go in."

he takes your coat (and your shoes, and your bag) before he's pulling you closer again—keeping you tucked under his arm like something will swoop down and snatch you up if he's not careful. you'd laugh if you weren't soaking in every second of his affection like a sponge.

"can i run a bath for ya?" he asks, reaching to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. the callouses on his fingers brush the curve of it and it makes you shiver. you nod.

he only leaves you for a few moments before he's back, corralling you down the hall and into the bathroom. there's a pile of comfy sweats folded and set on the toilet, and a fluffy towel hanging on the hook.

"holler if ya need anything."

you smile at him, a little more genuine this time, and he leaves you to it. you strip the clothes from your body slowly, hoping that if you do it right, the day will come off with it. you sink down into the warmth of the water and sigh. your eyes start to burn again as you lean your head back on the rim of the tub, this time just at Kita's kindness. you feel guilty for relying on it.

you feel guilty knowing you've been keeping what's in your heart hidden from him.

you use his soap, knowing you'll smell like him—knowing it won't be enough to satiate the longing you feel, but doing it anyway. you're not sure when it started—if it hadn't been there all along—but it's been tearing up your insides for months. he makes it worse with the way he cares for you. it's almost cruel.

you drag yourself out of the tub eventually, drying off in record time just to be swallowed by his clothes , soft and warm and smelling of him. you brush your hair out in the mirror and tie it up on top of your head. you feel a little more like a person now.

Kita's up and hovering at the end of the hallway as soon as you open the bathroom door. you manage a little laugh this time—mostly content and only a little guilty, letting him mother hen over you. you close the distance between you, looping your arms around his middle. you feel him relax, just a little bit.

"you need to talk about it?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you closer. you shake your head. "alright. come lay down."

he penguin walks you down the hall, grinning when you laugh. he moves right past the guest bedroom and into his.

he arranges you on the bed to his liking—cocooned in blankets and reclined against his pillows. he lays down next to you, on top of the comforter. respectful of your space, even if you wish he wasn't.

"thanks for taking care of me," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. "sorry for turning up like this."

his eyebrows knit together like he's never heard a more wrong thing in his life. "i'll have ya any way you turn up."

you blink at him, feeling like you've short circuited. you huff out a laugh, closing your eyes. "how unfair."

"mm?"

you open your eyes and feel stuck, pinned to the bed underneath his stare. there aren't many other options than to spill your guts onto his sheets.

"you make it hard not to love you, Kita."

he freezes, eyes locked on yours. your stomach ties and unties itself, but you can't look away.

it's another agonizing moment before either of you even breathes, and then you blink, and he's hovering over top of you, hands planted on either side of your head.

"say it again."

"i love you." it feels like the easiest thing you've ever said.

"tell me i've got it wrong," he rasps, leaning in to nose along your cheek.

"you don't."

your hand fists around the material of his shirt and you yank him down to your waiting mouth. it feels exactly the way you knew it would—warm and soft, not unlike the feeling you get every time you walk through his door. it’s gentle and unhurried, and you know he knows no other way. you let him break you apart slowly. 

he pulls away from your lips, only to press soft kisses to your cheeks, your chin, your brow bone. his mouth brushes against your temple and to your horror, you let out the world’s most pitiful little moan. 

his eyes go wide as he looks down at you, flushed and breathing hard beneath him. your fingers still tangled in his shirt, he closes his own around them and brings them to his lips. he keeps his eyes on you when presses them to the sensitive skin of the inside of your wrist. 

you feel no control of your reaction—your eyes flutter closed as the rest of you shudders underneath him. it’s so little and it’s almost too much. you know he’s figured you out when you’re able to meet his gaze again—deep brown filled with as much adoration as they are hunger. 

“tell me what you need, darlin’.”

"your mouth," you whimper, feeling hot.

"where?" his smile turns a little wicked, still pressed to your skin.

"everywhere."

if you were overwhelmed before, it would pale in comparison to this—his kisses turn hard and heavy, soft lips sucking harsh bruises into your skin. you keen and whine underneath him, writhing both toward and away from his searching mouth. he doesn't take his sweatshirt off of you—he just pushes it up to kiss every inch of skin it exposes. he only pauses to check in with you, only stopping for a second to ask half of a question you'd already started answering before he'd asked it.

he cradles your waist in strong, wide hands and bends down to lap at your navel, nipping sensitive flesh, tongue slipping inside the dip of your belly button.

your hips buck violently, whimpering into the crook of your elbow while you reach down to card your fingers through silver strands. you feel yourself making a mess of his sweatpants.

"please, Kita," you hiccup, nearly slurred in his onslaught. he hums against your skin and you feel it in your belly.

"s'alright sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing gentler kisses between your hipbones, taking the elastic of the sweatpants down with them. "i got ya."

he reduces you to something less than human with the hot slide of his mouth against the inside of your thighs, licking and sucking his way up to where you need him the most and then back down, too far away. it takes a wholly unreasonable amount of begging to get him there, and to get him to stay.

"please, please i just need—oh," your spine bows off the bed and then pulls taut at the feeling of his tongue sliding slowly through your wet heat. he lets out a groan at the taste of you, and you watch through hooded eyes as he grinds his hips into the mattress.

one hand keeps a steeled grip in his hair, and the other one sneaks under his sweatshirt to pull at your nipples. it's sensory overload—the feeling of the pebbled flesh under your fingers and the way Kita suckles gently on your clit has you squealing. he opens his mouth, panting and tongue lolled out, encouraging you to ride it. you don't need to be asked twice.

every snap of your hips against his face pulls a weak moan from him, and a louder one from you. everything is wet and hot and your thighs shake around his head with every drag of your achy clit across his tongue.

"Kita," you whimper, feeling the warmth start to spread, "gonna cum—i'm—"

it damn near melts you into the mattress. every muscle in your body contracts and then releases, leaving you immobile under his tongue. he holds your thighs apart, sucking on your clit while you shake and cry under him. it doesn't stop—every brush of his tongue pulls another dizzying contraction from deep inside you. he only relents when he's licked up every last drop of you.

he kisses his way back up your body and you feel like you're on fire. when he presses his lips to yours again, finally, it douses it. you only smolder underneath him now.

forehead pressed to his, you can't help but let out a little giggle. he grins, his pretty mouth pulled up in the corners, and presses another round of kisses to your jaw.

"i love you," you sigh, pulling him closer. he hums.

"i love you," he nips at the point of your chin, "and you're callin' out sick tomorrow."

there's nothing in your heart that wants to argue with him.

"I want to see what kind of idiot's going to be born in this country with my own eyes"

suna's a horny high guy btw if you even care

Hey, do u mind if i ask about a drabble or fic with that last scenario in your page about sero having the best fuck in his life? I need a fic or something about that with smut and fluff <3

Do I mind?? Do I mind having someone encourage me to write self-indulgent fics about my fave characters? Espeically if those fics revovle around my fantasy of hooking up with a college boy at a party? HECK NO I DON'T LETS GO!

word count: ~3700 words

paring: Fratboy!Sero x f!Reader (again self-indulgent, apologies)

warning(s): alcohol consumption, thigh riding, oral (male and female receiving), riding (cowgirl position), dirty talk.... I dunno this is pretty tame. but let me know if I missed anything

It was all Kirishima’s doing.

Sero could admit fully to that. From having him, Bakugou, Kaminari, and the rest of the house throw yet another party. To how Sero would have to be a host, and make sure all of his guests were having a good time, and not destroying the property. To now, having to come join the redhead and the group he was in because of some girl.

That girl being you.

Sero could kind of understand the dilemma. You were with your three friends, and it seemed the rest of the group wanted some action with them. But of course, Kirishima wasn’t going to leave anyone out - so the redhead brought him in to fill out the pairs, to have Sero fall onto this sword for the sake of the rest of them.

But the longer he looked at you, the more confused he got. Sure, you weren’t gorgeous like the rest of them, able to turn heads with a look, but you were very very cute; that smile of yours could light up a dark room. And sure you weren’t dressed in a similar curve hugging dress your friends were, but that off-the-shoulder blouse and short skirt definitely looked good on you. Sero could barely stop looking at your thighs when that flimsy fabric would ride up whenever you bent forward on the kitchen’s island to take a swig of your drink.

You were attractive. Which, again, was the cause of his confusion. Why would his friends beg him to occupy your time for their sake, why was no one else willing? Whatever the reason may be, Sero was more than happy to bear this burden as he slinked over to your side.

“You like hiding out in the kitchen too, huh?”

Sero could help but let out a laugh at your startled gasp, your hand coming up instinctively to cover your mouth to silence any further noise as your wide eyes landed on him. After a beat, your own breathless laughter joined his.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Sero apologized, offering his hand to yours “I’m Sero, one of the hosts of this party.”

“No, don’t worry about it, all good!” You smiled, taking his hand and offering your name in return. “One of the hosts huh? I’m taking the other hosts dragged you over here to keep me company?”

“It’s that obvious huh?”

Sero smiled as he took a swig of the beer he was holding, watching you carefully as you moved your shoulders in a shrug; you mirrored his actions with your own drink as you looked in the living room, where your friends were dancing and getting all comfortable with his.

“No, not really.” You reassured “I’m just really used to this sort of thing. Happens at every party we go to. So, I’ve gotten good at spotting the poor friend that drew the short straw.”

“Hey now! I don’t think I’ve drawn the short straw at all!” Sero defended playfully, unable to help himself by looking you over once again, enjoying the way your body practically shivered at his gaze.

“You say that now, but give it an hour. That’s usually how long it takes before I’m abandoned or dumped onto someone else.” You shrugged again, downing the last of your drink.

“Believe me, babe, I am not gonna even think about doing that.” He smirked, leaning onto the counter’s surface, enjoying the challenging smirk on your face as you leaned closer to him.

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Best not to bet against me, I never lose.”

~

Sero was true to his word, you had to give him credit, it had been well over an hour and he was no closer to being done chatting you up then when he started. Making you stay by his side as he toured the party, introducing you to people and making sure your cup was never empty. A true modern gentleman, you joke.

And you certainly had to give him credit for being so forward. After an hour had passed, and forcing you to play a round of beer pong - which you lost, of course - he asked if wanted to go upstairs for a while.

And now here you were, standing in the quite impressively large room given the older home. Checking out his posters and other merch he had laying around as you waited for him to close the door and make his way back.

“I’ve never met anyone that had a hammock in their room” You mumbled as you gently pushed the item to make it swing gently “Those hanging chairs, sure, but not a full blown hammock…”

“Yeah? Well I’ll be sure to let you try it out next time you’re here” Sero chuckled, pulling you into his embrace.

“Next time, huh?” You giggled as his lips touched your shoulder.

“Mm-hmm” Seros lips slowly ascended up to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver at it made contact “But right now I kinda want you in my bed.”

You let out a breathless moan when his teeth latched onto your earlobe, unable to help yourself as you sunk deeper into his strong embrace. Mind too cloudy to focus and he slowly led you to his bed, his messy blankets and sheets seemed rather inviting.

“W-wait!” You stopped him, pulling yourself away and facing him “I-i’m sorry I just… I’ve never done this sort of thing before” “What? Sex?” Sero asked, sitting himself down on the edge of the mattress.

“No! No…” You gave a light chuckle “Weirdly enough I have. I just… never done this sort of thing, you know? A hookup?”

“Ah, I see. Well, I won’t pressure you into anything, I wouldn’t be a good host if my guest isn’t comfortable” Sero brought his hand up to yours, tugging you to stand between his legs “We can take things slow, and if you want to stop at any time we can. I won’t get upset or anything.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!” Sero let out a chuckle at your nervousness, finding your sudden bashfulness cute and endearing “I’m sure! Now, come here…”

Sero pulled you into him even closer, forcing you to sit yourself down on his thigh. With one arm securely around your waist, and the other at the base of your neck, he brought you in for a kiss. It was soft, clearly meant for you to get comfortable and you appreciated that he was willing to go slow.

But if you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t go slow; not after the incredibly long dry spell you have been enduring. So, when he pulled away, clearly ready to ask if you were okay, you seized the opportunity to grab fistful of his shirt and pull him back onto your lips.

The surprised groan he made went straight to your core as he pulled you ever closer to him, chest firmly flushed together as he tried to take back the lead you stole from him. Kissing you dizzy, and breathless to the point of lightheadedness. As much as you didn’t want to pull away from this kiss, wanting him to be the first, you had no choice.

That didn’t stop Sero from pulling your lips back to his after you took a deep breath, not wanting to part from you for long. He was enjoying your soft whines and moans, even more so when his tongue entered your mouth. It was getting sloppy, but you couldn’t care less at the way drool started to gather on your chin

But, air was important. You tugged on his hair so you could officially part from one another. Sero only saw that as an opportunity to suck and nip down the column of your neck. When your hands started to tug at his shirt, his started to wander downwards - playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You know” Sero nipped at your collar bone, earning a small gasp from you “This little thing has been torturing me all night. I have to know what’s underneath”

He groaned when his hands slipped under the fabric, caressing the globes of your ass, to find lace meeting his fingertips.

“You came prepared for this, didn’t you?” Sero asked, only to be met with a shake of your head “No? Well, there's only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

He tugged the hem of your blouse up and away from where it was so neatly tucked, quickly maneuvering your arms up so he could remove the soft fabric from your body to reveal what it was hiding. Giving a low whistle to the black lace so wonderfully adorned your chest.

“Ah, so you did come prepared, hmm?” He teased

“S-shut up!” You murmured, bringing your arms up to shield your chest from his gaze - heated skin making its way from your cheeks down your chest.

You didn’t get far before your arms were pinned by your side “None of that now, pretty girl. Be good for me and keep those right there, okay?”

You nod, bashfully meeting his hard gaze. He gives you a small smile, giving you a soft kiss before his hands let go of your wrists in favour of caressing the lace cups that held your breasts.

His lips attached to your collarbone once more, sucking harshly on the skin as his large hands continued their heavy petting. The mixture of both was making you whine, unable to stop yourself from squirming in his lap as you tried your best to keep your hands docile by your side.

It felt like hours of torture before he finally reached his hands behind you to unclasp the item, pulling it away from your chest slowly and tossing it somewhere in the expanse of his room. Not wasting another moment, he leaned forward and began his assault on your chest.

The mixture of wet kisses, harsh nips and bites - which you were sure were leaving marks - and his fingers tugging on your hardened buds made you throw your head back and moan; grateful for the loud music playing downstairs for drowning it out.

Sero groaned when your hips started to move on their own against his thigh, bringing his hands to your hips to help with the movement as he latched to your nipple and bit down; groaning again when another loud moan escaped your throat.

“Yeah, you like that pretty girl?”

You nodded immediately, babbling out yes to him and your ground your hips harder against his thigh, wanting desperately to reach your hands up to tug his hair.

Sero slipped his hand between your bodies, his heavy breathing against your chest, as he lifted your hips slightly. You whined at the brief loss of friction, but that disappointment quickly disappeared when his deft fingers started rubbing your fold through the flimsy, and damp, fabric of your panties.

“God, Sero! More, please!” You begged, hands forming fists at your side as your hips buck into his fingers.

“You’re so wet for me, baby” Sero mumbled, pushing your panties aside and rubbing your clit. “So, so good for me…”

You couldn’t keep yourself upright, not with his relentless fingers and your inability to hold onto him for balance; especially not at his gentle praise. With another groan, you leaned forward onto him fully; head nuzzling itself on his shoulder.

“Too much?” He asked, unable to hold back a smile when he felt you nod “Alright, lay down for me, okay?”

You held back a whine when he removed his fingers and started pushing you towards the sheet; already missing his warmth. But you do as you're told, maneuvering yourself up to where his pillows are spread out and smoothing out his blanket.

It didn’t take him long to jump back on you after you got comfortable. Quickly tugging your skirt and panties down your legs before you realized what was happening. The groan he let out when your cunt was bare, eyeing your glistening folds, made your cheeks heat up once more; whining in embarrassment as you closed your legs.

“No, no, don’t do that babygirl!” He teased, kissing up your body and nipping your neck “Gotta make you cum, don’t I?”

“S’embarrassing…!” You mewled when his hand returned to your folds.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, believe me” He trailed off as his fingers started to prod at your entrance “Got such a pretty pussy”

His immediate nip at your neck stopped any other attempt of your complaining or disagreement; turning those words into a groan when his fingers finally entered you.

And what skilled fingers they were. You never would have guessed when you first looked at him, but you couldn’t deny the way they were playing you so expertly. The sounds from your wet heat only getting louder, and echoing in the empty room more frequently, the faster he went.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you pretty girl?” He asked, thumb circling your neglected clit, enjoying the way you cried out his name “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! S’close!” You moan out, hips started to buck in time with his fingers “Please! Please make me cum!”

“Go on then, make a mess on my fingers. Make a mess for me, do it.”

His words, mixed with everything else he was doing, sent you hurtling towards the edge faster than you ever expected; not that you were complaining. You never had your toes curl or back arch so painfully, but the release was so sweet when it all came crashing down. Your high filling your body with such euphoria that you couldn’t even make a sound as you squirmed and gushed all over his hand.

“That’s it… breathe… good girl” Sero cooed as you slumped back down onto the mattress. “You did so good.”

You hissed when his finger left your twitching hole, hips fidgeting away when he started petting your folds once again. Your hand shooting out to grab his wrist to stop him when it got too much for you.

“Can… can I..” You took a deep breath, “Can I return the favour?”

You didn't give him much of a chance to respond, using the advantage of his wrist in your hand to switch positions. Flipping him onto his back and tugging at his belt before he had a chance to take a breath.

Sero didn’t mind, why would he? A pretty girl like you wanting to go down on him? And so eagerly? Sign him up everyday of the week. He responded to your eagerness with his own, sitting up to quickly remove his shirt and helping you with the article of clothing currently hindering your progress.

You sat back and allowed him to take off his pants, knowing he would do it faster anyway; you were not in the mood to drag any of this out any further. Your teeth biting into your lip as you watched his cock bounce onto his stomach; your hand wrapping around it as soon as his legs were free.

“Ah, fuck!” He hissed when he felt your tongue gently lick the head of his cock, leaning back to get a better view of you between his legs.

Your mouth was magic; one that Sero could not wrap his head around. Because before he knew it, the sensitive head of his cock was hitting the back of your throat over and over again, with your drool spilling onto his balls.

It was sloppy, messy even, but god Sero couldn’t remember when he last got head this good. And the way you were moaning around him, sending all sorts of pleasurable vibrations through him, made him almost embarrassed with how quickly he was about to blow his load down your throat.

“S-stop!” He quietly exclaimed, tugging your hair to pull you off him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, catching your breath and wiping some of the drool off yourself.

“N-nothing! Nothing I just, ya know, not to cum like this.” Sero chuckled, pulling you up and onto his chest “Would rather feel your tight cunt wrapped around me instead.”

“You certainly have a way with words” You sighed out, breathlessly laughing along with him as you started to line him up to your entrance.

“Wait a minute, pretty girl.” His hands pulling your hips away “Gotta put some protection on”

He kisses you briefly, gently pushing you to the side so he can maneuver around his side desk drawer. And though a whine escapes your throat when his heat leaves you again, you are grateful he cares enough to do this in the first place.

“Okay, now you can hop on” Sero teases as he throws away the wrapper, leaving himself onto his headboard.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, not bothering to give what he said a proper response as you place your legs on either side of his hips. Your own grinding against his length to tease him a little and hear him groan.

But you didn’t have the heart to tease him long, the heat in your core becoming unbearable the long you waited. Reaching behind you angled him at your entrance and slowly sank down; the burning stretch made you groan as you tried to take him fully.

Sero mirrored your groan, his hands coming to tightly grip your waist to help guide, and help you, sink further down. His head tossing back with a choked moan when you finally bottomed out, your nails digging into his chest in a delicious manner.

You paused briefly, gyrating your hips slowly to become accustomed to his length; one that was a little bigger than you were expecting - not that you were going to complain. But it was making it a little difficult for you to ride him, having to start slowly.

“God… you’re so big!” You cried out when you dropped your hips down onto him, ducking your head and repeating the motion again.

“Yeah? Feels - fuck - feels good, yeah?” Sero asked, trying to catch his breath as he helped lift you up and down his length.

“So, so good!” You nodded your head, your hips picking up speed with the extra help he was providing.

After a few more strokes you were leaning back, hands resting on his legs, to allow you a faster pace and to hit that spot deep within you, the one that made you tighten around him so exquisitely.

The way your walls were clamping down on him, the way your pussy was gushing and soaking his length, the sounds of skin meeting skin, and you pretty mewls and whimpers were making Sero come undone embarrassingly fast; faster than he ever though possible.

But he was a gentleman, and didn’t want to cum before you did. Quickly he attached his thumb to your clit the moment he felt his release start to wash over him overwhelmingly.

“Come on pretty girl, I know you’re close. Come one, cum for me please.” He practically begged, eyes shutting tight as he tried to hold off. “Come on, do it for me please!”

You never had a man beg for you like that before, and that - as well as the frantic rubbing on your clit - made your whole body shiver as your release came over you. Sero pulled you back down and onto him, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he followed suit; your pussy milking him for all he was worth.

It took the pair of you a few beats before your breathing, and thinking, became less labored. With Sero coming back to earth first as he pushed you gently onto the mattress once again, peppering your face with small kisses as he did so.

“Be right back, okay? Just gonna go clean us up”

He left your side to go to his ensuite bathroom; on that you didn’t notice he had before; your brain coming to the conclusion at how handy it must be. Those thoughts only amplified when you heard water running. And after a minute or two, he came back with a damp washcloth in his hand and wearing a new pair of boxers.

Sero helped clean you up, making sure to be extra gentle; especially after you hissed when the cold damp cloth met with your sore cunt. He passed you his shirt to cover yourself with as went to throw the towel into his laundry; allowing you the chance to put on your now soiled panties as well.

“So… so do I leave now? Or something?” You ask when he came back, clearly nervous and unsure of what to do as you pick at a loose fiber on your shirt.

“I mean, if that’s what you want to do.” Sero chuckled, moving to your side and flattening your now messy hair “But I’m pretty tired, and I’m sure you are too, and you look pretty comfortable so I wouldn’t mind if you stayed the night.”

“Y-you sure?” You ask again, wanting confirmation that he isn’t just being polite but actually wanting you to stay.

“Yes, I’m sure. Come here.”

Sero started to lay down, shifting his pillows around to make himself more comfortable, holding his blanket out for you so you could join him. You do, without hesitation, which made him chuckle into your hair before placing a kiss to your crown.

“Sweet dreams, okay.”

“Mmm, you too.”

You fall asleep quickly, something that Sero thought was adorable. He tried to follow suit, he was exhausted after the wild ride you gave him; but he just couldn’t shut his brain off. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how you gave him the best night he could ever have imagined. The best fuck in his life. And it almost didn’t happen. If he hadn't talked to you, he would have missed out on all of this and spent his time chasing some other girl who wouldn’t nearly be as memorable.

All this from a girl he didn’t even notice at first.

But man was he glad he did. Glad he didn’t miss out on any of it. And he was certainly not gonna pass up another opportunity to see you again. His mind went from racing to thought of what might have been to thoughts of asking for your number and taking you out for breakfast the next morning.

Oh, and to thank Kirishima when he gets the chance.

shout out to @kenzumekodma for beta reading this for me 💛💛

isagi + rin both get bricked up when you put like a lollipop or candy you were sucking on into their mouth. especially if you tell them to open up and then close their jaw all soft

SAY MORE ABT DAD NANAMI W SWIM TEACHER READER RN !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘kay!

minors & ageless blogs dni, i am an 18+ blog!

gn!reader, one mention/reference to drowning, no powers au, single dad nanami au, nanami is oblivious (or is he)

"excuse me."

you almost drop the teetering pile of foam bubble belts you're carrying.

actually, you do drop them. it's just that nanami kento—father of one and the oblivious bachelor of the year for the entire swim school despite his blunt demeanor—catches them without pause. his bicep flexes with the movement, the muscle rippling beneath his skin.

you swallow.

(your friends all grumble about how lucky you are to have little yuuji in your class.

you are not lucky.

yuuji is darling. you always hear him calling out a delighted, chirpy 'hi!' to everyone he passes before his little head of hair—the soft pink of still-ripening strawberries—pops into view. he's got a smile like the sun and an energy output to match. you think he could probably power a small city.

but lucky people do not have to try and keep a handful of young children from drowning as they learn to swim while nanami kento is busy being attractive by just existing, raking a big hand through his damp golden hair until it feathers out, gleaming beads of water trickling down the thick column of his neck to pool in the dip of his clavicle.

you should have been a camp counselor, you think miserably, looking away from his broad form just in time to catch the kickboard that's rocketed out from under nanase, a powder blue foam missile. at least then the parents keep their shirts on.)

"sorry. i didn’t mean to startle you,” nanami says. he’s acquired stickers since you last saw him, the bright little stars sprinkled across his cheeks like neon freckles. you suspect that yuuji has matching ones.

"it’s okay, nanami. thanks," you say, reaching out for the belts. "for uh, catching those. i just rinsed them, so—"

he brushes your hands away gently, adjusting his grip so he has a better hold on the belts. “i wanted to speak to you.”

“okay—what about?” you ask, your hands lingering before you let them drop to your sides awkwardly.

“i’d like to know which of your coworkers conduct private swim lessons and of those, who you feel would be the best match for yuuji.”

“oh.”

nanami’s brow raises a bit. he examines you for a beat, his umber eyes keen. “you know yuuji’s skill level better than anyone,” he tells you. “and i assume you know which of your coworkers would do best with his personality.”

“i find it hard to believe that there are people who don’t do well with yuuji’s personality,” you say.

his lips quirk into a tiny smile. it’s small, but you’ve learned to catch them over the last few months, those little flashes of contentment. of pride. he briefly glances back to where yuuji is chattering at his friend megumi.

(even your boss had commented on how yuuji managed to pry stoic little megumi out of his shell.

having witnessed it firsthand, you’re not sure that ‘pry’ is the right term. it reminds you more of when seagulls smash clams against the shoreline rocks to break their shells open. megumi never stood a chance against yuuji’s weaponized sunshine.)

you reach out for the belts again, desperate for something to fidget with as that hint of a smile melts through you. nanami gives you half of them; you don’t bother to protest. it’s not the first time he’s helped you put things away after class has finished. 

“true,” nanami concedes. “but yuuji can be difficult to keep up with.”

“i guess,” you say, tugging at your lower lip with your teeth.

for a breath, you think nanami’s eyes drop to your lips. but you blink, and he’s simply looking at you, waiting for a response.

“yahaba would probably be best, i think,” you say softly. “she’s a great teacher. yuuji’ll like her. she likes to play games with her students a lot.”

“thank you,” nanami says. “it’s appreciated.”

“sure.” you bite your lip again, fidgeting with the edge of your swimsuit. “do you have concerns about what i’m teaching yuuji?”

he blinks. “no. have i indicated that i do?”

“no, i just—i know it’s come up that i offer private lessons too. of course you don’t have to use me, it’s completely up to you, i understand if you want someone else to teach him, but the group lessons don’t end for another few months, so i guess i wanted to be sure that you felt like he was learning? in case that’s why you wanted to go with someone else instead of me. that’s—that’s all.”

“ah,” nanami says. it’s almost a hum, the word rumbling low in his chest. if he was anyone else, you would say he looks faintly pleased. “no, i have no concerns. i wouldn’t have kept yuuji in the class if i had any.”

your cheeks burn. “oh.”

“it’s simply that i don’t start personal relationships with people i employ,” he says, matter-of-fact. “which means that hiring you isn’t an option, because then i couldn’t ask you to get dinner with me once the group lessons have ended.”

you drop the bubble belts again.

fictional kiss things that end me

being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward

one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

pressing their foreheads together while kissing

speaking normally, then after the kiss their voice is hoarse

guys furrowing their brow when kissing passionately

staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in

running their thumb over the other’s lips

when they lean forward a fraction as if to kiss the other person, then realize they shouldn’t and pull back to stop themselves

ripping the other away - “no we shouldn’t” - but when they kiss them again they moan and hold them close

one sliding their hand into the other’s hair slowly

their entire body freezing for a second when their love kisses them

accidentally being forced inches apart from each other, staring at each other’s lips, and just before they kiss someone pulls them back apart

when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more

a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

then licks their lips and says “please”

so everyone understands the concept of having a type as in ‘type of person im attacted to’ but whats your type as in ‘type of person attracted to me’

mines trainwrecks and repressed nerds