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net benefits | itadori yuuji x f!reader
warnings: 18+, f!reader, dubcon voyeurism, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex, drinking
w/c: 8.1k (actually on crack)
a/n: this is officially my longest work (wack) as well as my piece for @undersero‘s trope trove collab! the trope i started with was fake dating, but (inevitably) i also weaved in mutual pining and idiots in love and of course the trusty there’s-only-one-bed. i loved writing this and i hope you love reading it!
fake dating has its perks.
nobara no longer nags you to go to her wild girls nights that end up with her making out with some hot stranger and you awkwardly trying to pry her off of them. men on the street stop hitting on you when they see the hand wrapped in yours. your parents phase out of signing you up for online dating accounts, forcing you to sift through an endless stream of emails from people that swear that they’re ‘the one’. on your end, there’s only net benefits.
the same goes for itadori. he doesn’t have to pester fushiguro to try out new restaurants—he can just drag you along instead. gojou-sensei doesn’t try and set him up with the girls that give him their numbers. and he’s really looking forward to that valentine’s day discount that his favorite bakery has for couples.
so yeah. net benefits for everyone.
but, by far, the best part of fake dating is getting first dibs on room choice during your friend group’s annual summer vacation.
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we love to see what your faves put as their contact name for you, but what do you put as the contact name for your faves??
the rain hitting the windows makes you even less excited to take the trash out than you already are.
you slip on the closest shoes and head down the steps of your apartment complex. the rain continues, splattering your t shirt almost tie dye. by the time you reach the community dumpster, you realize you aren’t alone.
“h-hey! here, let me hold that for you,” suna holds the lid open for you, allowing you to swing the bag right in.
“thank you,” you say with a small smile, squinting at the headlights that reflect the wet asphalt in the parking lot. you’ve seen suna plenty of times, considering you live right above him. “bummer about the rain huh?”
“nah,” suna grunts as he swings the lid shut, shaking the water off of his hands with a sour face. “we need it, but i think it’s soothing. you know, when it hits the roof when you go to sleep.”
you snicker, and he gives you a confused look. “what?”
“how do you hear it if i live right above you?”
too bad it’s dark outside, or you would be able to see how red suna’s cheeks are.
“w-well, normally it’s-nevermind,” he scratches the back of his head while the two of you walk far too slowly for people walking in the rain. but, you reach your stairwell soon enough.
“have a good night, neighbor!” he waves at you while you head up the stairs.
“goodnight,” you return his gesture.
when suna enters his apartment, he wonders if he can figure out a new excuse to see you again.
“make sure ya get the back of my neck.”
“sure.”
“get the sides, too.”
“okay.”
“and make sure ya don’t miss a single spot!”
this time, you don’t have as much patience. you grip a handful of osamu’s wet hair, ignoring the exaggerated exclamations of pain as you do.
“i. said. oh.. kay!!” each word is accompanied with a jerk of his head. osamu’s reaching for your forearms now, smacking them as if he’s tapping out of a boxing match.
he glares at you, pout on. you grin back. you win.
and as if to make it a point, you begin to massage his scalp with a gentle scrape of your fingernails. swirling his hair, making sure you get into the follicles, and forcing a subtle pressure onto the base of his skull, you press a kiss right at the edge of his brow as a gift for finally behaving.
osamu hums at that. he closes his eyes to relax and as the moments pass, he slowly liquifies beneath you. the bend of his back curves into your belly as he breathes deep, unperturbed by the scent of ammonia.
“feels nice.”
“is that right, old man?”
osamu’s back to glaring. a giggled kiss back to his brow does nothing to abate it.
“too soon?”
he answers by pinching your thigh. you smack a gloved hand across his shoulder and he only snickers loudly, leaning all his weight onto you that you almost topple over. just as quickly as it left, silence settles into the bathroom once again.
“too old,” osamu eventually says. his confession is quiet, one that opens a space for thought, a little reprieve to reminisce. the fluorescent bulbs in your bathroom suddenly dull into a warm glow.
he says old as if it were a bad thing. like cracks on a sidewalk or black cats. old as if it were something to avoid.
it’s how this all started anyways. after a long day at onigiri miya, osamu’s feet found their way back home to you. he smells of sweat and sweet vinegar and hard work and yours. routine makes his way to you, slide his hands across your ribs and pecks you twice along the lips. then he goes to the bathroom, turns the shower on, and sheds his clothes beginning with his cap.
osamu was fiddling with his belt buckle with one hand and shuffling his hair with the other when he found it.
a gray hair. gray. and not the artificial kind.
one hour, one impromptu trip to the konbini, and one plucked gray hair burned spitefully at the stove, you're back in the bathroom again.
he wants to dye his hair gray. the artificial kind. the color he had back in high school, to a younger version of the one in front of you. and as much as you liked inarizaki osamu, any version of osamu actually, you especially like this one here.
"i think you're pretty sexy in gray." you mention without looking at him. osamu's trying to find meaning, the true meaning to the words you say. he watches your reflection as you busy yourself by discarding your used gloves.
old means growth. his hair will fade just like the original onigiri miya shirt that stretches across his wide chest but your love for him never will. time loves him just as much as you, kisses lines at the corners of his eyes, strokes rough edges along his palms, and you are gifted with a front seat to it.
"ya think tsumu's got gray hairs?" he finally asks.
"i'll do you one better," you smile wryly and lower yourself to whisper in his ear. "i think his hair is thinning."
take it easy baby, make it last all night - iwaizumi hajime/f!reader (1.5k) tags: cali!iwa, college!iwa, tit worship, dry humping, mentioned cumming in pants, no actual sex (sorry fellas), bi iwa is canon and if you disagree you're a coward xo!
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT - 18+
iwaizumi's biggest culture shock when he moves from japan to california for school isn't the different language, the heat, or even the party culture at UCI.
it's the SKIN.
hajime has never stopped to consider the conservative conventions of his home country at any great length, since it's all he's ever known. but suddenly he's in sunny SoCal, and everywhere he looks he's met with glimpses of exposed skin—of parts of strangers' bodies he never thought he'd see.
it flusters him at first; never quite sure where to look when he's speaking to a girl in a low-cut crop top, or a guy he meets out on a jog who'd forgone a shirt. but he acclimatizes to it eventually. comes to appreciate it in many ways, too.
take the humble tube top, for instance.
sure he likes bikinis, and mini skirts, and those skimpy skin-tight dresses girls wear on nights out. he likes those tiny running shorts that ride up on the track teams thighs when they go out for runs on campus near the athletics building, muscle tees cut low under the arms that the guys at the gym wear, or those grey-sweatpants whose infamy hajime has come to understand.
but there's something about tube tops that he just adores.
or, at least, something about you wearing one.
he's been watching you quietly for most of the night, flitting around the party like you normally do, nursing your drink in small sips to make it last. your tube top clings snugly to your chest, and fuck he's pretty sure you're not even wearing a bra underneath it. he watches the way your body moves, the way the top moves with it. the way your tits lift and settle again, pretty and soft, each time you subtly adjust the top with a little tug.
you gravitate towards him in intervals throughout the night, like a moth to a flame.
that's another thing hajime's come to like about america: no one bats an eye at PDA.
you sit comfortably in his lap on the sofa at the house party, playing with his fingers where his hand rests on your thigh. your body is warm. his body is warm. the party's crowded, the little house off campus jammed with students and driving the temperature up, but still he keeps you exactly where you are with his arm looped around your waist.
"hey," you say, peeking back at him over your shoulder after a while of idly tracing your fingertips along his knuckles. "you having fun?"
he is, but probably not for the reasons you think. he couldn't care less about the merriment around him: the happiest he's been all night are the moments where you've drifted back within arm's reach. he nods anyway.
you pout a little, and it surprises him.
"you wanna get outta here?" he asks curiously, picking up on your unvoiced disappointment. your eyes watch his lips as they shape the question, and then flicker back up to his.
"yeah."
the first year hajime spent in california, he lived in a tiny UCI dorm. the second, he moved into a small apartment off campus with some friends he'd met at school. the apartment isn't luxurious by any stretch of the imagination. it's austere; spartanly decorated; and with four college-age boys living in it, it isn't always the tidiest place. but one thing he appreciates about his living arrangement is that on a friday night, the place is usually empty.
not to mention it has a double bed.
hajime has you sprawled across it almost as soon as the two of you stumble through his bedroom door. you laugh a little at his eagerness as you tip back onto the mattress, bouncing lightly atop the padded springs, and then he's crawling in overtop of you, pressing his mouth against yours.
he's greedy as he kisses you, like he's making up for all the times he thought about it while he watched you that night from afar. his hands are just as intrepid, drifting along your body in careful but keen grazes and gropes. everything about you is so soft—it makes his head spin how delicate every part of you he touches feels. the soft swells of your curves, the silkiness of your skin, the little sounds he pulls from you when the presses against the places you like most.
he leans back on his knees, poised between your parted thighs as you lay flat on your back underneath him, and finally—after hours of praising its very existence—hajime tugs down the neckline of your tube top.
your chest spills out as the thin material is drawn away by a single finger looped under the edge as leverage. as your skin, all of your skin, is bared to him, hajime finds himself once again so so pleased with his decision to study abroad.
god bless america has never rung so true.
"fuck, you're so pretty," hajime groans, cupping a hand around each of your tits and pressing them together. you laugh but it's a breathy sound, more air than anything. his thumbs skim gently against the edges of your nipples, working them into stiff little peaks. after a moment, he dips down and catches one in his mouth, closing his lips around it so his tongue can take up the task.
he continues like this for a while, alternating between each breast, switching from his hands to his mouth as he lavishes your skin with attention and sates the thirst that had built throughout the evening. when he opts to use his hands, his mouth quickly finds its way to somewhere else, keeping itself occupied—your collarbones, your throat, your jaw, your lips. he kisses every inch of you that he can reach, but pays special attention to any little freckle or mark he finds along his way, dragging the tip of his tongue against them like he's savouring the taste of them most.
the two of you have been grinding lazily against each other while he devours you. iwa’s straddling one of your trembling thighs, his knee pressed firmly against the seam of your tiny denim shorts, and his painfully hard cock is pinned against your hip as he holds himself up over you. your tube top is still rucked down around your ribs, and iwa’s own t-shirt had been hastily tugged off over his head at some point during the excitement.
"hajime," you pant, tugging against the short hair at his nape as he suckles a bruise into the top of your left breast. he draws back only enough to meet your eyes, though his are unfocused and heavy-lidded, and his warm breath catches on the wet mark of spit left where his lips had just been attached. you look similarly wrecked: lips swollen and kiss-bruised, your stare glassy, your skin dewy with the flush of perspiration. your lips are still parted after having uttered his name so desperately.
that’s another thing iwa likes about it here. he likes being called by his name.
especially like this.
hajime rocks his hips against your own again, pressing his knee against you a little harder, groaning and he dips down and nips at your skin once more.
“i think i’m gonna cum,” he admits through gritted teeth, half-embarrassed and half-recklessly chasing the high he feels cresting in the pit of his stomach. he’s barely even touched you yet—at least not in any way that counts—but seeing you like this in his bed, tasting you in the way he has been, feeling your body react underneath his own, it’s all just a bit too much.
you could chide him for his clumsy eagerness and he wouldn’t even blame you for it, he feels like a pent-up teenager when he gets like this. but you don’t tease him, or reprimand him. instead, you take his cheeks in your hands and guide his lips back up to yours, letting his tongue slide—hot and wet and indecently noisy—against your own.
“cum then,” you whisper into his mouth, canting your hips up to meet the next roll of his. “wanna feel it, haji.”
and fuck if it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever heard.
iwaizumi moans brokenly, his hips picking up a steadier rhythm as he ruts against you. he’s being greedy, he knows that, but how could he deny you your request when you posed it so sweetly?
but he’ll make you feel good afterwards, just like he always does. unclasping the button at the waist of those tiny shorts, peeling them down with the same reverence he’d paid to your top and turning his rapt attention to what he bares there in just the same way too.
it’s friday night in sunny southern california, after all. and hajime intends to make the most of every minute.
“when they’re feeling insecure”
Pairing: atsumu x reader; kita x reader; suna x reader Genre: reverse comfort-fluff; drabbles & headcanons WC: 5.169 Warnings: N/A A/N: thanks for the request! this is actually the first piece we’ve worked on together so we’re excited for you all to see it! enjoy :) -Dawn & Luna
since you and Atsumu tended to be strapped on time to spend with each other—with you working full-time and him being a national volleyball player—you liked to meet up with him after practice sometimes so you can pick up some food and get some quality time together
he was always taking his sweet time to get showered and ready to go, so you got to bond with some of his teammates, his captain Meian especially
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liv i have a question about ur dear suna,, in most fics he's smoking a juul/cigarette so does he ever blow that smoke into readers eyes to be a little shit after inhaling ?!
suna's favourite game is "hide the juul" where without his knowledge or permission you take his juul and put hide it somewhere without him knowing (esp in your own pocket) and then when he asks if you've seen it you say no and then watch him search for it in confusion and even help him out looking under pillows and stuff and then when he's at his wits end bc he cannot for the life of him figure out where it went u just take one like long drag off it and he hears the crackle and turns around with the least impressed look on his face bc u got him AGAIN (trust me he loves this game, keep doing it.)
tw: mentions of alcoholism/sobriety
Sober!Samu coming home from a really really fucking bad week at the shop and just collapsing onto the couch in his apartment in a boneless, dejected heap.
He shuts his eyes, a headache raging between his temples like a storm.
It's not often that Osamu laments being a business owner, or someone's boss, but he had to fire someone this week—a guy who no-called-no-showed one too many times, and that Samu's suspected has been skimming off the till at closing. He'd put the unpleasant task off as long as he possibly could—made an effort to be understanding about what circumstances may have led his employee to that point—but it was starting to impact the other staff members, and Samu has to look out for them, too. And then on top of all of that, the shop's walk-in has been acting up again, and he just got a quote for repairs that's gonna blow his budget for the month.
He wants a drink.
It doesn't happen often these days, so many years into his sobriety, but occasionally (on the worst days) the desire rears its ugly, inveigling head.
He gives the call more thought than he ought to—the familiar siren song doomed to run him aground growing too loud in that quiet, vulnerable moment. He imagines shuffling to the refrigerator and grabbing a cold can from the bottom shelf where he used to keep them. He can almost hear the crack of the top and the and hiss of carbonation escaping the can as he opens it. Can practically feel the familiar burn of bubbles rushing down his throat, and taste the bitter, tannic flavour of hops on his tongue as he swallows it down. He could repeat the process until the thoughts in his head go quiet. Until everything feels a bit lighter. Until—
“Oh! You're home!"
Osamu opens his eyes and sees you standing in the doorway to his bedroom. Your bedroom now too, since you'd recently moved in—though he still sometimes has trouble believing it, since it feels too good to be true. You’re towelling at your hair, having evidently just washed, and looking at him with a bright, welcoming smile.
He watches your expression shift, sees it drop slightly, as your eyes take in his dispirited form.
“Just got here,” he offers weakly, attempting a smile to try and reassure you.
It doesn’t work.
You pad over to him at the sofa.
“You okay?” you ask him, your mouth curling down at the corners in quiet concern.
Osamu’s learned to read your face so well after all this time together, and he knows you’re the same. He knows that no matter what he says, no matter what lie he tries to offer you so that you won’t worry, you’ll still see the truth.
He shuts his eyes, and lets out a long, pained breath.
“Bad day.”
You crawl into his lap without replying, straddling his waist and resting between his spread thighs. You smell like the shower gel you always use, the one he likes so much, and you’re still warm from the bath. He breathes in deeply as you press yourself against him, using it to ground himself.
“Was just thinkin’ about havin' a drink,” he admits further, cracking one eye open to peer up at you.
You don’t look surprised, or panicked. Just thoughtful. A pensive pinch between your brows as you smooth your hands along the front of his Onigiri Miya t-shirt.
“Don’t think that’s gonna make the day any better,” you finally offer him, your eyes meeting his.
He snorts. “Yeah, yer right.”
Osamu winds his arms around your waist, pulling you forward against his chest. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck, your fingers gripping his shirt tightly.
“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” you whisper into his skin, punctuating the sentiment with a featherlight kiss against his pulse point.
“’S better now,” he says back warmly, holding you a bit tighter than before.
The two of you stay like that for a while, just letting him hold you. You occasionally press another kiss against his skin, and as heat rises in his cheeks, Osamu feels the tension of the day burning off with it. The siren song grows fainter in the mist.
You begin to kiss your way up his throat.
“Do you wanna do something to take your mind off things?” you ask him in between kisses.
Osamu hums, a deep, needy sound. “Whatcha got in mind?”
“We could watch a movie?” You kiss the edge of his jaw near his ear, skimming along his jawline towards his mouth. “Or we could go for a walk to the park? Bet the swing set’s free. Maybe even the seesaw if you’re lucky.”
Osamu laughs, seeking your lips with his own. Your mouth is sweet and obliging, like it always is, letting him press his way inside of it to taste you. You unconsciously roll your hips against his when he presses one hand down against the small of your back, and it makes his stomach clench when he feels the pressure of you grinding against his lap.
He wastes no time, flipping you over so you’re sprawled on your back against the sofa cushions. He holds himself up over you with a hand pinned beside your head while you stare up at him breathlessly, your eyes glassy and your gaze fond. Your lips are shiny with spit and Osamu’s never wanted to taste anything so bad in all his life, even though it’s something so familiar to him now.
“I am lucky,” he says, and your gaze softens affectionately at his words. He dips down until his lips are just brushing yours, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards slyly. “But think I have a better idea in mind.”
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 💛💛
here’s a snippet from my football player!sero fic. idk when imma finish it but i love it so much i wanna share it with y’all :3
cw: fem!reader, making out, heavy petting(?), sero is whipped for reader, not proofread at all
“yeah we can take it slow, reallll slow if we have to. im good at slow.” sero says, sitting up and nodding his head, agreeing with his own statement.
“hanta” you says, and he looks at you slightly confused, “you’re the fastest and most dynamic running back in the entire conference, what have you ever known about ‘going slow’?”
“sero,” you start, placing a hand on his chest, and he frowns at you, “hanta, sorry,” you correct yourself with a warm face, “you don’t have to feel bad about running into me or hurting me or anything like that.” you bite at your lips and avoid his gaze. “things like that happen all the time. i was in the wrong place at the wrong time and i shouldn’t have to be your burden nor problem to try and fix.”
“im not doing this cause i trampled and almost killed you” he says “sorry again by the way,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, “im doing this cause i like you. i want to get to know you and your work more, i think you’re fascinating. and i kinda dont give a shit if you dont want my help, im taking care of you until you’re fully healed if you like it or not. dont think of it as me pitying you, im doing it cause you deserve it.”
its nice. having someone to hold like this and someone to hold you too.
but then, the universe decides to disturb the only peace youve seemed to get in the past week or so, and seros phone alarm rings heavy across your dorm, snaping you from your sleepy haze. you assume its his cue to start getting ready for his night practice before his game.
he slips his phone from his sweats and turns the alarm off, “i gotta go,” he says into your hair and you sleepily nod against him, “i know.”
“ill be back as soon as the busses get in, take you to lunch, or maybe i’ll make yo—“
you press your fingers to his lips in an effort to shut him up, “no. youre gonna get back, go to your apartment, and get some rest. i’ll be fine.”
“but—,” he squeeks out but you frown and press your fingers even firmer against his lips, “no buts” you say.”
he smiles and brings his arms from around you, grabbing hold of your hand that attempted to silence him, and kisses it.
he starts at your palm and works his way up to your fingers, peppering small kisses about your hand, keeping eye contact with you.
your face heats more and you turn your head from him to hide your girlish giggle. for him, it was easy to bring out your bashful side.
it feels weird, whatever the two of you have going on. he’s the universitys star running back, in the runnings for some of the most prestigious awards, trophies, and honors, and you’re just some nobody geek who needed a topic to do your work study on.
how the stars aligned for the two of you to cross paths, you’re not sure of, but you couldnt be anymore greatful.
all because he ran into you. literally.
he slowly and carefully starts to separate himself from you, scooting back and standing up from your slightly lofted bed, stumbling and almost falling.
you laugh and cover your smile, much to seros dismay. he could be so clumsy for such a focused athlete.
you try not to feel sad as he collects his things to leave, even though you were just telling him that he didn’t have to dote on you so much. you dont know how to feel really. youve never been treated this nice before.
he gathers the last of his things, keys clinking in his hand as he looks to see if he’s missing anything. after triple checking, his alarm sounds off again and he curses, “i thought i told you to shut up.”
you watch as he slips his phone back into his sweats before trotting over to you, leaning down and placing his hands on both sides of your body, caging you in.
he infiltrates your personal space so easily, but with a gentleness you can’t describe, so you don’t complain. your noses are almost touching and you can feel the breath from his nose blowing onto your face.
“ill be rooting for you,” you breathe, trying to keep your eyes from flickering from his eyes to his lips.
“id expect nothing less of my biggest fan,” hanta replies and you roll your eyes with a smile, the tension finally being broken by his insufferable humor.
“stay off that leg,” he reminds you with a huff and hard stare, “i mean it.”
“aye aye captain,” you reply, finally breaking and letting your eyes flit down to his lips, annoyed you couldn’t keep your composure, but glad youd finally indulged in this little game between the two of you.
hanta does the same and slowly begins to close into your space and you let him, heartbeat heavy in your ears.
theres a part of of you telling yourself to stop and that this was wrong but you didnt care. you didnt care one bit and if some part of sero was telling himself the same thing, he didnt seem to care either.
he carefully slots his mouth against yours and exhales through his nose, relieved he’d finally been able to kiss you.
his lips are soft and gentle as they slide against yours, and you wonder if yours feel the same, if he’d like the way this felt as much as you did.
a hunger washes over him and he pushes a little more into you,noses rubbing almost uncomfortably against each other, your covered breasts rubbing on his chest.
and before you can make a move to go any further, sero breaks the kiss, pulling away from you with a smack that reverberates off your dorm room walls.
“sorry”, he huffs, breathing hard and fast, trying to regain some sort of coherent thought, dazed from the touch of your lips, “im sorry.”
“its okay,” you reassure, shaking your head and ringing your fingers in your lap. “i didnt mind.”
he looks up to you and you smile bashfully, still hot from your kiss.
he lowers his head back down with a smile before straightening himself and walks backwards towards your dorm room door.
“kick their asses,” you smile and he smiles back.
“aye aye captain” he salutes, before opening your door and slipping through, giving you a knowing look and a wave before closing it, the auto lock clicking into place.
you flop down onto your bed, cover your face with your hands, and smile so big your cheeks hurt. if you could kick your legs in excitement, you would but unfortunately you’d have to settle for slightly less exciting expressions of joy.
“he’s gonna be so fucking late.”
Taste Of You | H. Sero
Summary: It all starts with a question, and ends with… well, this.
Pairing: Hanta Sero x AFAB!reader
Warnings: Swearing, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, a lil bit of dirty talk, Sero has a thing for eating pussy, Sero is a dork, all characters are 18 years old!
Word Count: 4.7k
Available on AO3 here
Note: This is a little something I wrote because I had Sero brainrot. It takes place in this little au I’ve created for myself and is a preface to the Sero fic Sickly Sweet, which is coming next week. Enjoy :)
Keep reading
You lean up against the door frame and watch. Mattsun hasn’t moved in a minute or so, his head buried into his phone as he scrolls endlessly. Every now and again he pauses, eye brows quirked, and then laughs to himself with a shake of the head. He’s still wearing his work clothes, but the suit jacket has been discarded and the tie has been loosened comically low. A green smear of wasabi is permanently ground into the elbow of one side of his otherwise pristine white button down, a remnant of late nights drinking after work.
“What’re you doing?”
Mattsun doesn’t even look up.
“Watching tiktok and putting the dishes away.” He jerks a thumb to the empty sink where dishes used to be. “I’m a multitasking.”
“I can see that,” you laugh, “Do you wanna have sex right now?”
Mattsun raises an eyebrow. Then, what you said seems to really hit him; the man looks up, puzzled, but interested. He practically throws his phone to the side, letting it slide across the countertop.
“Uh, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what brought this on?” he grins, coming over to you with open arms. “Did me doing the dishes turn you on that much?”
“I’m about to take a shower and I really don’t want to get sweaty afterwards,” you explain, gesturing to your gym clothing, “But I can see myself possibly wanting cock later tonight, so I figured- hey, why not just do it now?”
Your arms snake around his waist and you tilt your head just enough to welcome a peck on the lips. Mattsun snorts, but happily obliges, giving you the sweet contact you desire. “And yeah, the dishes thing is a little sexy.”
“Aw, but I like you right out of the shower.” Mattsun presses his lips against your cheek, then down the curve of your neck,his love quickly turning lewd. The sharp nip of teeth surprises you, driving you further into his arms. “You smell so good and you’re so soft-”
“But then I’ll get sweaty again and need another shower in the morning.” You press both hands against his chest, unsuccessfully trying to keep your distance. Your husband’s curls tickle against your neck as he silently chuckles to himself, worming his knee in between your thighs. With height alone he can manhandle you, reaching and grabbing wherever he wants. “I thought you liked me dirty.”
“You have a point– I do like the nasty, sweaty thing.” At that, the velvet heat of his tongue flicks out and drags across your collarbone. You squeal and wiggle, equal parts ticklish and turned on. “When you’re all salty and-”
“Issei!”
You both dissolve into real laughter. His hands keep exploring, kneading and pulling your ass, exploring the plane of your back, and sneaking around to roll your tits in his hands.
Suddenly Mattsun stops, frozen mid-squeeze.
“Oh, man,” he says, eyes wide, as he realizes what this means. “If we do it now, I can do laundry afterward so we can get real messy and still sleep on clean sheets.”
He grins down at you. “No sleeping on the wet spot! Planning sex fucking rules.”
“Stop, I’m already horny,” you say, half joking, “Keep talking about doing chores and I’ll cum.”
“And people say marriage ruins your sex life.” Mattsun lets you go and brings his hand down against your ass, hard enough you yelp at the sting and stumble forward. “Get in that bed and I’ll dirty talk about vacuuming or something, you fucking freak.”
“You seem hornier than I am, weirdo!” you scold, skittering off towards the bedroom. Much slower footsteps echo behind you.
“Hey, you started it.”
u kiss isagi in the parking lot and now yall have to stay in the car for 20 mins till his dick goes down
it’s kinda silly how like people who like the same characters … like the same characters from other series
"hold on... isn't your leg still injured?" you ask, pulling away from hungry kisses peppered along your chin and down your collarbone in haste. there's sudden alarm in your voice that barou seems to completely disregard as his hand continues to cup the underside of your thigh, eyes bidding you to forget it and continue.
but by now the moment is lost, and your hand is gently placed against his chest. he rolls his eyes, but lets go, and you see it again - a slight wince as he shifts the weight off of his knee and resumes his position sat next to you on the couch.
he says nothing more than a slight grumble under his breath and returns his eyes away from the unwatched movie before you. your heart is still beating and your face is still flushed, but you press on.
"shoei."
he doesn't look at you, arms crossed over his chest.
"yeah."
"your knee?"
his jaw clenches.
"what about it?"
"what did the doctors say?" you press, now leaning forward yourself to glance at him. he tries to avert his gaze, but you stare so hard that he's unable to ignore you. you helped bandage that very knee earlier today; he cannot pretend the injury does not exist.
"two more weeks."
you shake your head. "and yet you were on top of me."
the tick in his jaw returns and he cuts eyes directly at you.
"what if you don't heal properly and can't play again?" you glare back at him with just as much sass, but as you hold gazes for a few more moments in the shifting dark, his annoyance dissolves, replaced by a cheeky grin. he leans forward, enough that his lips nearly graze yours yet again, then looks down at your pout. heat flashes again through your neck and upper chest, and he can tell, pleased so. his mouth pecks at yours.
"if you're so worried, climb on top of me instead."
he has a point.
you swallow hard, but you'll do whatever your King asks of you.
usually.
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.
YALL BASED ON THIS VIDEO HERE IM SCREAMING-
-
It’s been hours since you’ve smiled at Rintaro.
Not since this morning when you left. He was home today, all day, left to watch your three year old, and be home to see your nine year old. You’d kissed the side of his nose, reminded him of some chores, and everything was fine for you to go out and do your own set of errands.
But to come home to a trash bag sitting outside of the door and not in the barrel that got emptied today?
Oh. Screw smiling.
There may have been a small argument that broke out once you told him, about how he assumed you’d take the trash out since you were leaving the house- of which you snapped that it’s not your responsibility to automatically take out the trash when you leave.
Your son, Akito, was only left to watch the chaos, setting up the console he and his father were about to play on.
“I forgot, okay!” He snaps, rolling his eyes. “I’ll take it out later, it’s fine!”
“It’s not fine!” You yell back. “The trash was already taken! It’s worthless at this point to do it!”
He looks like he’s about to say something back, but you see him bite his tongue. “Good choice,” you snarl. Leaving him and Akito, you make your way upstairs and into your bedroom where you get changed into something that doesn’t emit outside-world feeling. You take a quick shower, wash your face, and when you step out still angry, you’re quick to make a new game plan.
Once you’re done with your small dose of self care, you stomp into the kitchen for something to eat, hoping that it’ll help curb any further anger coming from you both.
Crackers and cheese, some little slices of fruit which you intend to pair with they jelly you got on your last visit to the city.
You grab the jar and with a deep, frustrated exhale, you grip the cover and try to twist.
When it doesn’t budge, you feel your eye twitch.
You try again, to no avail. You grab the nearest towel in an attempt to get a better grip. No dice.
You sigh, tossing the rag to the side before stalking your way into the living room, grimace etched on your face.
“Can you open this?” You ask, and just as Rintaro pauses the game and tosses his controller aside to reach for the jar, you slip right past him and pass it to Akito, who takes it in his hands to pop open the lid.
With a small grunt he manages to open the lid, passing you the jar with a small smile, “here, ma.”
“Thank you, handsome man,” you hum, blowing him a kiss and blowing a raspberry at Rintaro when you make your way back to the kitchen. There’s a pause of silence, a question you don’t quite catch from your son, and suddenly, you hear your husband jump up from the couch. You smirk. It doesn’t take long before feet quickly pound their way into the kitchen, and a disgruntled Rintaro stands, pouting, in the doorway.
“What. Was that about?”
You shrug softly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t give me that crap,” he says, brows furrowed in frustration. “You’re seriously going to use my own creation against me?”
“Your creation?” You scoff in disbelief. “First off, I don’t remember you carrying our two children around for nine damn months. Second of all, our children are not creations. They’re children.”
“Point one,” he begins, quickly walking over to you. “You were hot as fuck carrying around our spawn. Secondly? Last time I checked, our baby machines only worked when together.”
“Feral!” You snap, giving him a grossed out look before turning towards the snacks you’d been making. “Get the hell out of my kitchen, I don’t want you here- HEY!”
Before you can think, Rintaro reaches past you and grabs the jar of jam, quickly raising his arm above his head to get it out of your reach. You would’ve tickled him for it, but the jam was from a small business three cities over. And the fuckhead knew that, and you hate him for it.
“You’re such a pain!” You growl, making a jump for it. You barely come close. Your fingers wrap around his shoulder in an attempt to yank his arm down, but he tightens it up completely to make it immobile. You’re rendered completely helpless to your husbands cruelty.
“Akito!” You call your son in hopes for assistance, snarling up at your husband. Instantly, socked feet slip along the floor, and at the sight of his figure in the doorframe, Rintaro bears his teeth.
“Don’t help your mother, she has to learn a lesson!” He snaps.
You growl back, “don’t listen to your father, you and your sister’s snacks depend on it!” Akito’s green, confused eyes flick back and forth between you both, and if you weren’t so stubborn, you’d think about how absolutely hilarious this is.
Rintaro, in all his 185 cm glory, holding a damned jar of jam above his head, so much so a sliver of his side pokes out from his shirt, and you, crossing your arms childishly after making extreme reaches for the jar.
It’s ridiculous, it’s childish, and it’s perfect for your marriage.
Akito gnaws his lip, “I mean… Ma is the boss, dad-“
“If you scram, I’ll double your allowance this week.”
“Bye mom!”
With the last bit of hope you have, you watch as he skates his way back into the living room, eye twitching in annoyance. “Kaiya wouldn’t betray me like that!”
“She’s three, mom!”
“She’d still help!”
Left to your own pity, you once again make a reach for the jar, only for him to reel his arm back a little bit more. “Give me a break, I have snacks to make,” you say, voice pitched in annoyance and defeat.
“Tell me you won’t go to our son for husband jobs.”
“Tell me you’ll take out the trash when I tell you to!”
“I thought you were throwing it out!”
“Why would you not check!”
“I didn’t think I had to!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll check on your waking daughter,” Akito calls annoyed from the living room, the only thing breaking up your argument.
With a deep, exhausted breath, Rintaro slowly lowers his arm, though still keeping a slight distance between you. “Cant we both say we’re wrong?”
“I’m never wrong,” you snip.
“I know, but for the sake of waking our three year old up, please just cave with me. Please, baby. I’m-“
He’s cut off by your quick lunge for the jar. He yanks it out of the way, and you’re left chasing it like a dog with a treat. You do, however, hear your husband laugh, but it’s not the laughter of victory from a few moments ago.
It’s laughter of adoration.
“I will leave you.”
“Gotta get the jar first.”
You, once again, for the nth time in a row, make a reach for it, but this time, Rintaro’s free arm quickly wraps around your waist to encase you in a hug, and he leans you back into the most ridiculous dip you’ve ever been apart of. You can’t begin to fight your own laughter that bubbles past your lips, fingers instinctively gripping his collar for stability.
Once your titters are finished ringing in the air, he straightens you both up, relaxing as you thunk your head against his chest. The jar gets put down on the counter, and he kisses the crown of your head sweetly as his arms tug you close.
“You’re annoying,” you purr.
He chuckles, “I know.” He closes his eyes and gently breathes in your scent, “and I’m sorry about the trash my love. Even if I thought you took it out, I really should’ve just. Checked.” Long fingers gently smooth up your neck to gently massage the nape, and he hums as you melt like putty against him.
“Now it’s gonna sit,” you pout. “In the trash outside. And it’s gonna smell. And we’re gonna be the house with smelly ass trash.”
“I know,” he repeats, trying not to laugh at your concerns. “I’ll take care of it princess- and worst case scenario, I’ll write letters apologizing to the neighbors for our rotten trash.”
You snort softly against his collarbone as you continue to nuzzle closer, “I’m sorry I went to Akito to open my jar,” you confess, angling your head up at him. He smirks and leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his hands moving up to cup your cheeks lovingly.
“You wanna know a secret?” He asks against your lips.
You hum in intrigue.
“I’m pissed because I tightened them all when you were in the shower, so you’d have to talk to me.”
“SERIOUSLY?”
Nanami gets a strange feeling.
it’s in his bones, a simple vibration that he knows isn’t physically there, but it jitters still, slowly growing stronger and stronger. It’s a memory he can’t place, but so strong he can taste; it’s copper and sweat, the undercurrent of panic-
“Kento?”
Nanami blinks away the thought and presses his thumbs into the bridge of his nose to calm the headache that’s started. When he looks up, you’re pushing the screen door open and joining him on the back porch.
Sunset has just begun, casting a golden glow against your skin. The ocean’s foam almost glows with sherbet tones as it laps the shore, so far and yet so close he can taste the salt.
“You okay, dear?”
The feeling hasn’t subsided; it rumbles stronger, like a train powering down the tracks.
“Of course, just tired.” Nanami places his book on the railing. The worn thin, water stained pages flutter in the breeze.
“Dinner’s ready if you’re up for it,” you say, “Yuuji’s setting the table right now.”
He pushes off of the chair with a grunt, his knees protesting the movement. The strange feeling sticks to his bones, begs to be acknowledged-
“All by himself?” Nanami pulls you in by the hip and presses a kiss into your temple as he passes, tugging you back inside. The door creaks closed, tapping his but when he doesn’t move fast enough. “When did he get so big?”
“I don’t know, but it breaks my heart a little!” you croon, “Our baby isn’t a baby anymore.”
“Well, don’t fret. If everything goes according to plan,” Nanami catches your mouth against his this time, “We’ll have another baby to whine about soon.”
You shine at that, but your smile quickly falters when you meet his eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, “You seem off.”
“Yes, just-” Nanami looks outside. The beach is the same as always, forever changing with each wave. Yuuji is singing to himself in the dining room, some jaunty thing he learned in preschool, though he’s not quite getting all of the words correct.
“I just had the feeling that I almost didn’t have all of this.”
i have been told “your pussy is so good it makes me believe in god” before but never the opposite,…goals to attain i suppose
WARM CONVERSATION (suna x reader)
cw: breakup heavy, light mentions of reader going through it, angst to fluff i promise!!!! best friend osamu <3 kinda long im sorry, titled from sad beautiful tragic by taylor swift because what else would it be
You should’ve known he’d come over. Should’ve expected it the moment you sent the text turning down his offer disguised as a reminder.
A sick part of you almost wants to laugh as you reread the texts on the phone in hand.
From: Osamu
ur coming with me to atsumu’s stupid thing tonight, right?
To: Osamu
absolutely not
Not even twenty minutes later (which is impressive, considering Osamu lives at least thirty away from your apartment), an abrasive knock is on your door and you don’t even need to check the peephole to see who waits on the other side.
The moment you open the door with unimpressed eyes, Osamu is opening his mouth to complain.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
Keep reading
i can’t reblog anything bc my stupid phone doesn’t work.
CARVE YOUR NAME INTO MY BEDPOST
cw: AFAB!reader, fingering and oral sex, reader referred to as ‘brave girl’ once, first time hookup vibes when you are nervous and excited and curious and blushing WOOOO, kuroo is service dom king core, slight religious themes if you squint
Kuroo has wanted you for as long as he can remember, since before he even knew what wanting felt like.
You’d met back in your high school days, and between your quick wits and his know-it-all persona, the dynamic was magnetic. It was always so natural with you, even with his heart beating a mile a minute and his palms sweating against the denim of his jeans.
The two of you were always a special kind of exception for one another. Friends, always, but with something more buzzing beneath the surface. The constant craving for something out of reach, something thought to be intangible.
He’s felt it since the very moment he laid eyes on you, but he’d told himself you didn’t—and with that, he left his pride heavy, but intact, in his throat.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s actually here—with you splayed out across his bed like an angel of temptation in the garden of Eden. Your skin is softer than he ever imagined, your tiny whines more angelic than any prayer he could’ve hummed in church.
Keep reading
trigun college!au where knives doesn't think you're good enough for vash, and hates how close the two of you seem to be getting as your friendship develops. so of course the obvious solution is to fuck you within an inch of your life on a semi-regular basis so that you don't get any ridiculous ideas about trying to date his little brother.