Hi!! If You're Up To It Do You Think You Could Write Something About The First Time Jason Brings His

Hi!! If you're up to it do you think you could write something about the first time Jason brings his gf to the manor. Like maybe he brings her in but doesn't tell anyone and so everyone is trying to sneak a glimpse of her??

meet the family

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason has a girlfriend???

warnings: none

The manor sits full as ever—a cloud of mild boredom sweeping over the Wayne clan.

Dick sits perched on top of an armchair reading a catalog, Stephanie’s splayed out across the couch, Cass is bundled up in blankets atop the ottoman, and Damian leans up against the center table from the floor.

It’s a relatively slow afternoon, until Tim comes bursting into the room, out of breath.

“There’s a girl here!”

Everybody looks at him, disinterest scattered across the room. “There’s a couple of ‘em.” Dick says, flipping through the pages of the magazine.

Tim huffs, “No! In Jason’s room—he has a girl in there!” Eyebrows shoot up at that.

“Now I know you’re lying.” Damian mutters.

Tims head snaps over to Damian. “Dude, go see for yourself. I heard her!”

“You really think Jason would bring a girl here and not even introduce us?” Steph asks, unconvinced.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously.”

Cassandra nods fervently.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Stephanie mutters. “I bet he’ll introduce me before any of you guys, though.”

Dick barks out a laugh, “You’re nothing short of delusional if you think he’s introducing any of us.”

“We’ll have to take matters into our own hands, then.” Tim says, decidedly.

Damian audibly sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m meeting her first.” Steph confirms. “I’ll put money down right now.”

“Meet her or see her?” Cass signs.

“Same thing.” Stephanie shrugs.

Dick shoots up from his seat, “First person to see her gets to be the ring bearer!” He announces, racing out of the room.

Knock knock knock knock knock…

Knock knock.

It takes a good forty seconds, but Jason opens the door, an annoyed frown already on his face.

Dick gives him his brightest smile. It beams of deceit in Jason's eyes. “Hey man. What’cha doing?”

He crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

Dick tries to peer around Jason into the room, but Jason made a point of barely opening the door and his large frame isn’t doing Dick any favors right now.

“Just wanted to say hey…You wanna hang out?”

“No.”

Dick lingers awkwardly. “…Are you sure?”

Jason shuts the door.

A couple minutes later, Tim comes running up the stairs. He opts to skip over the courtesy of knocking and go straight for barging through the door himself. Or he would’ve, if Jason hadn’t seen that coming from a mile away and locked it.

“Fuck off, Tim!” Jason calls from inside the room.

“You lost your right to privacy the second you walked in this house!” He shouts back, hitting his fist against the door.

And Tim swears he can hear a sweet laugh as he trudges away. The authenticity of that claim will be heavily debated downstairs for the next several minutes.

Not even a thirty seconds later, Stephanie comes a knockin’. Jason opens the door wordlessly, patience clearly dissipating more and more.

“Hey, Jason! I can’t find my comm, you wouldn’t happen to have it, would you?”

His face deadpans. “No, Steph.”

Stephanie clicks her tongue, “Can you check?”

He stares at her.

“Actually you’re right, it would be faster if I did.” Stephanie tries to push past him into the room, but Jason, unsurprisingly, doesn’t budge.

“Stephanie.”

“I just want to meet her!” She pleads. “I won’t even tell the others, I’ll just say you wouldn’t let me in either!”

“Bye.” He closes the door.

He doesn’t make it all the way back to the bed before the next knock, singular and short.

Jason snaps the door open again, looking down at Damian with a glare.

Never one to waste any time, “Is there a girl in here?” Damian asks, seeming thoroughly disinterested in the answer.

Jason shuts the door in his face.

Several minutes later, another, quieter knock. Jason’s groan can be heard from outside the room. He pulls open the door once again.

It’s Cass.

She stares at him.

He stares at her.

“Can I say hi to her?” She signs.

Jason sighs. “I’ll pass along the message.”

She smiles and turns back down the hall.

Jason closes and locks the door once again, trudging back over to the bed where you lay. He collapses onto your chest, your arms wrapping around each others bodies immediately.

“Cass says hi.” He mumbles, the sound obscured by his face-down position.

“That message would be a lot more meaningful if I actually knew Cass.”

He groans. “You don’t want to meet them.”

“I do.” You say, running your fingers through his hair. “And I think you do too, or you wouldn’t have brought me to the house where the world's best detectives live.”

“I’m starting to regret it now.”

“Come on. Please?” You plead.

He picks his head up to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asks with a grimace.

“Absolutely.” You say, topping it off with a kiss on his cheek.

He sighs.

Well. It’s never been within Jason’s skill set to deny you, anyways.

You descend the stairs hand in hand with Jason, his energy mopier than usual. You can hear a gaggle of voices coming from a room ahead, all talking over one another.

“Okay, Tim, you climb up outside the window and—”

“—It’s your plan, you scale the side of the house.”

Jason drops his head and mutters a “Jesus Christ…” as you near the commotion.

You give him a reassuring smile and pat his back as you both move into the doorway.

Everyone’s heads snap to the doorway, eyes wide and waiting.

Jason takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for torture. “Guys…This is my girlfriend.”

“Hi.” You smile sweetly, waving to the room.

There’s a moment of still silence before the room erupts.

“Hold on—”

“—my god, she’s so pretty!”

“Oh wow—”

“Wait, what?”

”—You’re real?”

“—didn’t place that bet.”

Stephanie comes scurrying up to you and grabs both of your hands in hers. “Hi, I’m Steph!” She says with a beaming smile. “What’s your name?”

“I’m—”

But the others are right on her tail, crowding around you.

“We didn’t even know Jason had a girlfriend.” Tim says.

“Still not convinced.” Damian mumbles from the back.

Cass waves and signs something to you.

“She says we’re really happy to meet you, which we are.” Dick tells you.

Damian moves closer within the huddle and inspects you closely. You have no idea what he’s inspecting you for. You don’t need to dwell on it for long because Jason pushes his head away from you with mild force making Damian scowl.

Stephanie chimes in, “Did he bring you here to meet us? The others said—”

Jason cuts her off, already knowing exactly where that sentence was going. “I brought her here to show her my old room.”

Dick snickers, “Oh, is that what you were off doing?”

“Watch it.” Your boyfriend warns.

You nudge him with your elbow, be nice.

Tim moves closer to you, narrowing his eyes. “So you’ve like, spent time with him and everything? And you still want to be around him?”

“Okay and you’re done.” Jason takes your hand and leads you out of the room and back down the hallway.

“No wait!”

You’re already out of the room and into another and then another before you can even realize that you’re headed for the front door.

You stop in your tracks, pulling him to a halt as well. “What about—”

Jason shakes his head. “You don’t want to meet him.”

You lower your chin at him, “Jay. Do you want me to meet him?”

He’s silent and doesn’t look like he particularly does.

You sigh, “Okay, do you want him to meet me?”

“I—yeah…” he trails, and you give him your best sweet eyes, the ones that he knows he has no business saying no to. “I…okay. Okay.”

He leads you down another hallway, the sounds of his siblings clambering echoing in the distance. You end up in a room that looks like a never used study, where Jason pushes on one of the walls. It slides open with a bit of force from him, revealing a door with a keypad next to it.

He types a series of numbers into it, and opens it up to a narrow passageway that looks remarkably like a cave.

The passageway leads down to a set of stairs, and you can hear the loud sound of water in the distance.

You’re quite nervous about walking into the Batcave, but you know Jason wouldn’t bring you anywhere near it unless he was sure it would be okay. Okay for you that is, more so than his father.

“Careful. It’s slippery.” Jason holds your hand the whole way down anyway, making sure to linger no more than a step and a half in front of you.

You see Bruce Wayne, sitting at a desk with a large array of computer screens in front of it, and case files scattered all throughout the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, though you have to imagine if Jason got his observation skills from anywhere, it would be him.

As you approach, Jason switches your hands so that his left is holding your left. The result has his figure half covering you, you can only assume partially limiting Bruce’s view of you.

“Bruce.”

Bruce turns his chair around, regarding Jason with a raised chin. The greeting is somehow even more formal than you’d expected.

“Jason.” He readdresses his gaze to you. “Who’s this?”

Jason has a hell of a feeling that Bruce already knows exactly who you are. He’s probably known about you since you started dating. He would’ve had to, to not be pissed as hell that Jason brought a civilian into the cave.

Jason introduces you, his hand reluctantly letting go as you step forward to shake Bruce’s.

Bruce looks surprised, though pleasantly so. He smiles and shakes it kindly.

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He says.

“You too, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You say, smiling.

He laughs, “Oh, I bet.” Looking to Jason, he says, “I can’t say I’ve had the same pleasure, unfortunately.”

Though Jason’s behind you now, you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

“No, I can’t imagine him sharing anything unprovoked.” Bruce smiles widely at that.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Jason, who’s probably on the brink of losing his mind down here, interrupts.

“Alright. Time to go.” Jason says, grabbing your hand again. He doesn’t give you much time to protest before he’s guiding you by the waist past him and towards the stairs.

You let him nudge you out and call over your shoulder, “It was nice meeting you!”

He’s halfway up the stairs as you exit, only to be stopped by Bruce addressing him again.

“Jason.”

Jason stalls his steps, turning around slowly. You’re out of the cave now, and Jason’s not excited to be alone with his Dad for even a minute. It doesn’t help that he has no idea what he’ll say.

“She’s kind.” Bruce says, simply.

“Yes.”

He tilts his head at Jason, observing him. “You love her?”

Jason looks at the ground. “Yes.”

Bruce nods. “Good.”

He returns to his work at the computers wordlessly, and Jason has to take a moment to realign himself before he climbs the rest of the stairs.

Jason doesn’t particularly seek his fathers approval, nor does he place any definable value on it. However, hearing him give his own version of his blessing to you struck something inside Jason. Something deep in his chest.

He re-enters the study, finding it empty. He walks out into the hallway, where you’re nowhere to be found. Despite being halfway across the house by this point, he can distinctly hear his siblings chattering in the living room. Chattering. And chattering. And chattering…

Oh god, you went back to the living room.

As Jason approaches the conversation becomes clearer.

“—long have you been together, anyways?”

“Well—”

Stephanie gasps suddenly, cutting you off. “Oh wait, you have to meet Alfred!”

“Oh, we’ve already met.” You tell her.

Dick’s head snaps up. “What? When?”

Jason enters the room, draping his arm around your shoulder. “About six months before you met her.”

A chorus of gasps and shouts ring out.

“What?”

undergoing a process of embiggening

“i want smut” “ i want hurt/comfort” — but what if i said i want the most heartbreaking angst followed by fluffy ass comfort followed by hot ass make up sex all rolled into one fic

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

╰┈➤ “𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲” ◦•≫

pairing: quarterback!kirishima x nerd!fem!reader

genre: smut

warnings: slowburn smut, face sitting, eating out, penetration, safe sex, overall pretty vanilla, possessive eijirou

Summary: Having a crush on the nerdy girl in your year certainly isn't easy, especially when a game of spin the bottle results in her kissing your best friend.

A valuable lesson you've learned is that hard work is always rewarded. You've consistently achieved success throughout your life, maintaining a stellar reputation, outstanding grades, and strong relationships. Who could deny you whatever you wanted with such principles?

Someone from high up above, it seems. Because no matter how much you yearned for love and companionship, nothing stuck.

Your partners would always say you're too hard to please, too much of an overachiever, just too much. Too stressed, too stressful, too extreme. Sometimes, in the dimness of your room, you wondered if they were right. If you were truly that ambitious you couldn't understand common sense. You dared fantasize that, by some miracle, someone would accept you the way you are someday; a very driven person with clear-set goals for their passions. It sounded appealing in your head, who wouldn't want to be that way, to be that great? But then again, your past relationships begged to differ.

On the other hand, you had beautiful, long-lasting friendships with your high school friends that you were immensely grateful for. They were there for you every step of the way, lifting you from your lowest lows and making sure you were enjoying yourself amidst the efforts of remaining ‘picture perfect’. However, during this particular moment, you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into them, a very unusual occurrence in your group. Given the topic at hand... You wonder why they even brought it up. They already knew your answer.

Mina, Ochako, Kyoka, and Momo are gathered in your dorm room, occupying seats from the desk chair to your bed, blocking off the only exit, aka the door. It's almost strategic so you wouldn't run off, already used to your antics and hatred for serious conversations. Mina speaks first, breaking the ice after you huff disapprovingly.

“Tsuyu can babysit Victor, and you can come with us to this bomb-ass party. You haven't been to one since what, like, freshman year?” the pink-haired girl scoffed and walked over to your hunched figure on the bed as you crossed your arms, avoiding her gaze with palpable pettiness. They used the excuse of making a cute study group to get you to attend some weird frat party. No wonder you were sulky.

“I can't. I told you, I have rehearsal later today,” you countered, finding any excuse not to go. It's not that you didn't enjoy parties, you just preferred private hangouts instead. Like D&D sessions, for example. Those were fun, unlike the sweaty, grimy fraternity parties.

Kyoka jumped in, “Which you can comfortably skip. Half of the marching band is coming to this either way.”

Your nose scrunches up impossibly more before Ochako adds, “Everyone's going to be there! It'd be a waste not to come with. Just this one time? Please?”

Their eyes are pleading with you to accept their invitation and you can't lie and say that your resolve hasn't diminished ever so slightly. You had a soft spot for them whether you liked it or not, often getting roped up in less-than-ideal situations... This wasn't going to be one of them, though. You had to stand your ground.

“If it helps, I'll keep everyone in check this time so you can have your fun. I'm not too keen on drinking and dancing as is. How does that sound?” Momo's proper tone has your pettiness very clearly melting away and you curse yourself for being so weak-willed. No, they had to respect your decision already and you had to look away from their infectious stares as quickly as you could.

“I have class first thing in the morning, I can't—”

“We're not gonna be staying long. Just dance, mingle for a bit, and then go back to our rooms.”

Well, shit. You ran out of excuses.

“C'mon, Y/N, please? Just this once.”

And that's how you found yourself here, spacing out in the middle of a far-too-hectic, far-too-crowded living room, practically melting into the only cushioned couch available. To your friend's surprise, you actually danced your heart out for a bit before plopping down and even downing a beer. You needed the liquid courage to get through this night in one piece and you most definitely needed to rest a bit after... that.

“Didn't know you could move like that, Y/N!” Kyoka praises between giggles, approaching the couch with a beer in hand.

You'd be lying if you said your head wasn't absolutely spinning already, shades of purple, blue, and grey mixing when the room spun. Her words didn't even register at first.

“You can't be fucked up already, can you?” A worried Mina joined the conversation, leaning against the armrest casually. God, you have such pretty friends.

“No, no, I'm okay, I think,” you groan and rub the bridge of your nose, colors then turning into shapes, “It's not the alcohol.”

“Oh, right, your stamina is non-existent. This is why we should party more often!”

“I'd rather not,” you snort, blurry shapes turning into colors as the ground stilled beneath you, eyes finally focusing on what you wanted to see most. “I can think of much better ways to increase my stamina.”

The girls follow your gaze, stopping on a familiar redheaded hunk that has your pupils nearly combusting into hearts. They were very much aware of your crush on the popular quarterback, someone you thought was completely out of your league and never tried befriending yet still admired from a distance, akin to your other likings out of reach. You didn't want to admit it, but he was one of the reasons why you accepted to come in the first place. You had it bad for him and his stupidly handsome face and his ridiculously muscular body that had you practically drooling when he was in your vicinity. And to top it off, he was the nicest man on campus — and honestly, the nicest man you've ever met, or well, knew of — it was beyond nuts how perfect he was. That explained the hoard of girls suffocating him wherever he went, but it didn't make it any less obnoxious, driving you away from interacting with him entirely. You've always had a thing for things outside of your reach, after all. Maybe that's also why you put him on such a pedestal because, surely, he had some flaws himself. You couldn't seem to find them, though.

Kyoka's gag interrupted your train of thought, “I have no idea how you go from needing a babysitter for your clarinet to thirsting over some himbo. C'mon, he's not even all that.”

“You're talking. The blond ‘himbo’ you have a crush on isn't that much different. Y/N has great taste,” the pink-haired girl countered, leaning closer to you in hopes of seeing him better, but the dense crowd obscured her vision, “It's just that he's in very high demand. He's not out of your league by any means, just... Yeah.”

You groan, crossing your arms, “I'm aware. That doesn't make me like him any less, though. Tell me something disgusting men do, quick.”

“They don't shower?”

“He literally smells like orange-scented body wash. Bet he tastes like it, too.”

“You're not helping, Mina!”

“Girls!” Momo's voice echoes from somewhere in the crowd, catching your attention. To your utmost surprise, you see the dark-haired girl linking arms with Ochako right next to your crush, jaw dropping when he turns to look at no one other than you. The man has the audacity to send your heart into a frenzy just by grinning, his sharpened teeth on full display for you to imagine how they'd feel against your skin. You realize then and there that simply saying you 'had it bad for him' would be an understatement.

Jesus, has he ever looked that good? You swear that the shirt he has on is new and much tighter, showcasing the mounds of his well-defined abs and pecs. The sweatpants aren't helping either, hanging so low on his hips that his boxers are popping out, text barely concealed by the shirt. You wonder what brand they're from... before noticing the absolute monster in his pants.

A slap on the back of your head brings you back down to earth, suddenly acutely aware of how you were ogling him. And how his gaze was fixed on you the whole time.

The arch of his brow, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards both have your skin igniting with gooseflesh, shoulders tensing as the tips of your ears darkened their color. He caught you staring at him. He caught you staring at his dick. It couldn't be that bad, right? Girls stare at him all the time.

“Come on, babe. And for the love of God, stop being so obvious. I'm getting secondhand embarrassment here,” Mina whispered, pulling you up from the comfort of your new favorite cushion.

You follow without a word due to sheer embarrassment, heels clanking along with the rhythm of the music blasting, its bass thumping within your heart. Oh, shit. It takes you a second to focus, to realize Mina and Kyoka are approaching your other friends who are — less than favorably — conversing with him and his friends. As if on cue, the circling group of girls that weirdly remind you of yourself parts, letting you guys pass and stand in the middle next to Momo. You can barely breathe, avoiding his questioning gaze like the plague, those carmine eyes of his twisting your insides. You pray to any god there is to spare you from this awkward encounter or at least erase his memories of your stare clearly outlining the bump in his sweats. Even better, you pray that the earth swallows you whole, because how are you supposed to talk to him after that? First things first, you need to find an exit. You don't think your heart can handle being in such proximity to him right now.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick,” you mutter to no one in particular, blending into the crowd without hearing the protests from your girls, before seeing a flight of stairs and quickly ascending to the second floor. There should be an empty bathroom you can lock yourself into for the remainder of this party. You couldn't believe you actually did that, needing to dig the underside of your hands into your skull to get rid of that memory. You enjoyed the sight and you couldn't tell if that made you a pervert or just... really infatuated with him? Oh, you were for sure a pervert.

“Dumbass,” you let the word slip out quieter than a whisper once you deem the desolate hallway a safe place to scold yourself.

Maybe you were exaggerating, maybe you weren't, but you couldn't help it. You liked the guy and you wanted to talk to him at some point, see if your personalities match, and maybe become friends — something you're not so sure you'll be able to do now. But you're adults, right? He'll probably understand. Right?

“That's not very nice,” a deep, rumbly voice startles you, making you turn on your heels so fast that you almost run into its owner, “Woah, there. You okay?”

The universe has got to be fucking with you right now. Because Kirishima Eijirou, the man you have a crush on and shamelessly checked out, was towering over you with the same grin on his face he bore just a few moments ago when he caught you peeping. Saying you were a little starstruck wouldn't be quite accurate; you were completely, utterly speechless.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you or anything, it's just...” he licks his bottom lip and you gape at the sight, “You're really pretty. What's your name and could I give you my number?”

What. The. Fuck. I'm dreaming for sure.

It takes you suspiciously long to answer. “Uh... Y-Yeah, sure. My name's Y/N.”

He beams at you with the most brilliant smile you've seen him make and reaches out, albeit hesitantly, to grasp your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. It's as if you're made of porcelain, the way he holds it. Or he's made of something so rough that he doesn't dare apply more pressure to his ghosting touch, the calloused pad memorizing the dips of your knuckles while you stare at it incredulously, eyes wide enough to make you question if he's noticed your predicament. He must've, but why isn't he saying anything? Why isn't he saying anything about... that?

“I'm Eijirou Kiri—”

“I know who you are.”

He pauses, and you mentally slap yourself at how eager you sounded. But he just laughs, “That's great, then. I've seen you around a few times. You're in the marching band, right?”

“Mhm. I, uh, play the clarinet.”

“Awesome! Good to know, maybe I'll pop by rehearsals whenever I have the time to see you play.” Eijirou tilts his head to the side and you're still completely out of it, believing your five senses have betrayed you. Only in your dreams has his cologne been so intoxicatingly sweet. “God, you're really pretty. May I...” he trails off, cautiously glancing into your eyes while tapping the phone in your other hand. You scramble to give it to him, almost dropping it in the process.

“Careful there,” he chuckles, making your skin all tingly when his hand departs to type in his number. “We have a match the day after tomorrow. Would you be interested in coming? I can save you a spot in the front.”

He talks as if he's known you for years. Conversing with him feels so oddly natural that your body relaxes and decides to enjoy this chat, to enjoy his compliments and bold flirting attempts. You stop questioning the authenticity in favor of living in the moment and taking in his features up close. Who knows when you'll get the chance to talk to him like this again? A nerd like you can only dream.

“I think I can come, yeah. Why? You wanna show off?”

“Something like that,” he smiles coyly, handing your phone back, gauging your reaction to the new contact.

‘Eiji <3’

You chew on your bottom lip, holding in a laugh at the contrast between his rough, intimidating exterior and cute manner of speaking. It was all you could do to not say something embarrassing, having a relatively big problem with speaking your mind.

“Thank you,” you say instead, tilting your head to look up at him, finding his gaze already studying you.

“No, thank you,” Eijirou scratches the back of his head, seemingly a bit nervous as well. You could tell that by the reddened tips of his ears, matching his faded, dyed hair. “We're gonna be playing Spin the Bottle soon. I... I want you to be there. To play with us, I mean.”

Tucking your hair behind your ear, a telltale sign of your flustered state given his proposal, you reply, “Oh. Yeah, sure, I'll be there in a bit.”

“Mhm. Alright, little lady. See you downstairs,” he bends down slightly, taking your hand in his once more to press a feathery kiss to your knuckles. He had to know what he was doing to your poor heart, right?

Then, as if nothing unusual had happened, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweats and departs, but not before glancing back over his shoulder to say:

“Oh, and my eyes are up here, by the way.”

Fuuuck.

Spin the Bottle is so incredibly boring when almost the entire student body is playing, because your turn never comes. You wait, you watch people make out while your mood turns all the more sour, and you sip your juice disinterestedly.

But the redhead in front of you doesn't fail to capture your attention, like always. When he notices your gaze, he leans back on his large hands which were planted on the ground, tucking his legs beneath himself as he lifts his hips to adjust. Now, you're sure he knows exactly what he's doing, given the way he pushes up just enough to have you imagining the unholy things those hips could do. You subconsciously press your thighs together, eyes trailing the length of his body before settling on his dimly lit, annoyingly handsome face. The grin he bears is nothing short of devilish, but a sweetness lingers behind those half-lidded eyes, presenting his slightly intoxicated state. This man is going to be the death of you and you couldn't find it in yourself to care. He tilts his head to the side and you're done for. He mouths “Pretty” and you're on cloud fucking nine. Dangerous thoughts of just taking his hand and leading him to a secluded place have your mind reeling, the buzzing of the alcohol amplifying your aching need. Neither of you are drunk enough to make those kinds of mistakes, though. Not yet, at least.

But Mina hands you the empty bottle, breaking the little moment you guys had created so suddenly that you can't hide the small pout of your lips. You can't say you're not disappointed, but knowing what will come if you spin the bottle just right makes you giddy with excitement. Angling the glass bottle, you give it a rather weak spin, hoping, praying it lands on the man before you. The bore points toward everyone in the room for a few, agonizing moments in which you feel as though your heart would grow legs and jump out of its place anytime now, before it slows down. It's like time stops when you hear the clinking of it settling on the side, following its trajectory to see who you're supposed to kiss.

Your heart drops.

It's not Eijirou. No, you would've given everything for it to be him. It's his best friend, Katsuki Bakugo.

What unsettles you more than the frown on the blond's lips is the redhead's quirked brow paired with his unwavering grin. Like he's almost challenging you to make out with his best friend right in front of him. He might just be even more of a pervert than you are.

“Get over here already,” Katsuki huffs, patting his lap impatiently. Knowing the center of the offensive linemen and his reputation, you could tell he wanted to get out of here fast, but maybe someone wasn't letting him leave just yet. His friends, you assumed.

Standing up, you slowly make your way over to him, and in an instant, he grabs your wrist to pull you down into straddling his lap. You gasp, eyeing Eijirou from the corner of your eye only to see him stare intently, leaning closer to Katsuki's shoulder.

“Show him what you're capable of, yeah?” Katsuki whispers in your ear, hands coming to smooth the fabric of your dress over your thighs. “The guy is crazy about you.”

His words barely register when he presses his lips to yours, stealing the air from your lungs. He's not your type and that only solidifies from how roughly he kisses you; messily pushing his tongue into your mouth, teeth clashing while he squeezes your skin. He swallows all your little noises as you grip his shoulders, trying to tell him to slow down, but he doesn't; he does bite your lip, though, so hard you're sure it's going to bruise. The other students watch you two go at it for a while as they whoop and drink, clapping when Katsuki finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your tongues. A frown twists your features as you wipe your swollen lips, a deep chuckle vibrating from the blond at your actions. He licks his lips and smacks your thigh which you take as a sign to get off. You gratefully do, sparing Eijirou another flustered glance as you sit back down next to your friends.

Kirishima was fuming beneath his calm facade. He'd shared girls with Katsuki before, that didn't usually affect him, but for some reason, he felt weirdly possessive over you. Maybe it was more than a silly crush like he'd theorized months ago when he saw you on your way home, big case in hand, oversized clothes, and round glasses on the tip of your nose, and yet still thought you were the most gorgeous girl to ever cross his path. He had a feeling it wasn't only a theory when he saw you asleep at the library, drool pooling on the table and hair sticking out in odd places which pulled a chuckle from his throat and beckoned him over to close the book you were writing notes from. He wanted to test that out as soon as possible, so he gathered the courage to walk up to you during the party. He wanted to see if your gloss tasted as sweet as the fruity scent of your perfume, if your skin was as soft as he'd imagined it'd be.

What he didn't want was to see you make out with his best friend. Even so, he couldn't prevent the growing problem in his pants, having to adjust them slightly to hide it, but it honestly didn't help; the tent was very much visible. You seemed like a great kisser and the pretty shade of your lipstick had him dizzy with want. Want, want, want. He wanted so much of you — everything, if you'd allow him — but most of all, he wanted you to want him back.

And he stared at your retreating figure, wondering how to sweep you off your feet, his thoughts clouded with... less-than-appropriate scenarios. Could you blame him? The tight material of your dress hugged your curves perfectly and he wished he could just bury his face between those plush thighs of yours.

The vibration of his phone caught his attention, pulling it out to see a text had come in from an unknown number.

“It's Y/N. Wanna get out of here?”

In your defense, Mina had given you the idea after you told her about your guys' interaction upstairs, but it still didn't help soothe your anxiety. When you pressed 'send', your hands became clammy and shaky. Would he think you're only after his body? Or worse?

“Thought you'd never ask, pretty. Let's go, my apartment isn't far from here.”

That's how you ditched one of the most awaited parties to bang the most popular guy in your college. He wastes no time; pushing you back against the closed door of his apartment by your hips to press his body against yours, his minty breath fanning over your lips.

“You sure you want this?” he nudges your nose with his, thumbs kneading your waist, his hold firm and electrifying. “I wanted to take you out to dinner first, but...”

You wrap your arms around his neck, cutting him off with a breathy whisper, the clothes doing nothing to obstruct the hard planes of his body touching you in all the right places, “I'm sure. You can take me out tomorrow.”

He grins, hand coming up with newfound eagerness to cup your cheek as he parts your colored lips with his thumb, smearing some of your lipstick onto it, “Deal.”

And then his lips are on yours and you're sure you've never felt more alive. They meld with your plump ones, holding a distinctive warmth that elicits a sigh out of you, fingers instinctively tangling in his hair. It falls loose from the half-up ponytail he had it pulled into, hair tie falling somewhere on the floor but neither of you cares to pick it up. Neither of you dare to interrupt the kiss, not when you've been waiting so long to find out how he tastes like.

His tongue slides into your mouth, expertly brushing yours before pulling out and repeating the excruciatingly slow cycle for a few minutes, savoring your taste. Yep, he was right; fruity flavor. A chill runs down his spine when you subconsciously roll your hips, needing to pin you to the door in order to control his aching need. He wanted to take his time, to explore your body the way it was meant to be explored, to worship it.

Then he feels a small hand rest on his bicep, squeezing and pushing him back slightly. It takes everything in him to pull away, panting heavily with furrowed brows and a deep blush adorning the apple of his cheeks while staring down at you. His throat bobs expectantly.

“I've never, um... I think there's something wrong with my body,” you admit embarrassedly, needing to get it out of the way before things get serious.

“What?”

“I'm just saying that you won't have to focus on me,” you quickly explain, resting your delicate hands on his broad shoulders, “I've never orgasmed with a partner before.”

Eijirou looks absolutely appalled. His sharp jaw slacks open in disbelief, brows furrowing even further to the point where it looks almost comical. He looks offended, you realize.

“No one has made you come before?” his voice is just a tad bit louder than before, his hands trailing down your sides absentmindedly.

“No.” His bewildered stare turns you into a blushing mess which makes you avoid eye contact.

“But you orgasm perfectly fine by yourself?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls you impossibly closer to press a light kiss to the top of your head in a reassuring manner, “We absolutely cannot have that. Jesus, Y/N, that's got to be, like, a crime.”

In the blink of an eye, he hauls you up like you weigh nothing, cradling your knees and back with strong, determined hands. Squeaking in surprise, you cling to him as if your life depended on it, burying your heated face into the side of his neck. Feeling movement, you guess that he's leading you to his bedroom. You haven't had the chance to look at his apartment yet, though. Bummer.

“Having such a gorgeous girl all to themselves and not making her come once? Did they even try?”

You reminisce for a moment, wincing at the memories. You've had terrible partners up until now. “Well...”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Something in your gut shifts at the curse spilling from his mouth, wondering if you've ever heard him do that before. He probably cursed during his matches. It was incredibly hot nonetheless. “Don't worry, pretty girl. I'll take care of you. Even better than Katsuki would.”

Katsuki?

“You don't have to—”

“I want to. More than anything, so please, let me,” his murmur is laced with desperation and you have no choice but to give in. He'd probably get tired of it once he'll see you're not coming.

The path to his bed is a short one and you feel the soft, satin sheets against your back before you know it. He's lowering you onto the mattress of his bed, rough hands smoothing the skin of your thighs as he stands between them, his large frame shadowing you. He places a knee on the edge, propping them up onto his shoulders to keep you there while he kisses your knee. All the while, he's staring down at you, chest heaving and ruby eyes searching yours. You gasp when he bites your calf, applying mild pressure to leave a mark as his hands begin working on taking off your heels. He slides them off with ease, gently massaging your feet to calm your bubbling nerves.

He discards them next to his bed and kisses your bare ankles, before suddenly letting go of your legs and going to sit down with his back to the headboard. You prop yourself up by the elbows, sending him the most confused look you could muster amidst the fogginess of your arousal. He just sinks further, his head resting on a pillow, a smirk tugging the corners of his swollen lips.

“Sit,” he commands, the rumble of his voice making your body move by itself to straddle his waist. His hands find your hips again, squeezing the skin through your dress with a click of his tongue. “Not there.”

He practically manhandles you to sit on his face, your clothed core hovering inches above it as a shocked gasp escapes your throat, hands gripping the headboard to keep elevated.

“Wait, I'm too heavy!” But he's already pushing you down with a force you can't fight, your dress riding up as he does so, revealing your matching underwear in the process. He buries his nose into your cunt, groaning deeply when he inhales your scent for the first time. It's as if he's in heaven and he hasn't begun yet. He can't resist placing a kiss on your clit before using one hand to push the material to the side, his other one keeping you nice and snug on top of him. You feel so embarrassed your hand shoots up to cover your mouth, the position unlocking a new part of yourself. Seeing him laid out under you, admiring your pussy with wide eyes, has you already clenching around nothing. This had to be a dream.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he praises, unable to take his eyes off you, “I'll make you feel so good, baby. Sit down, please? I need to taste you. C'mon.”

Apprehensively, you lower yourself until his mouth makes contact with your folds. He easily spreads them with his warm tongue, lapping to drink the slick pouring like a man starved. The noise you let out is downright sinful; a long, almost relieved moan that makes your head loll back. You've gotten eaten out before, sure, but the guy mistook your clit for the left fold... So, it's safe to say it's never felt so good before and he barely even started.

He licks a stripe up, flattening his tongue against the throbbing bud before flicking it, assessing that might be enough to hear the cute noise you let out once more. And he's right, you immediately mewl and arch your back, trying your damnedest not to grind onto his face. But he's not having it, he sucks on your bud long and hard before releasing it with a pop, locking his lips with your folds instead. This ought to get a good reaction out of you.

It does. Your hips stutter from the intrusion of his tongue diving deep inside you, warm and eager to please. His name spills past your lips, or well, a version of it, one that makes him immediately start bullying your insides.

“Ah— Eiji, god! Ah, fuck,” hearing this, he delivers a good smack to your ass, sending your hips forward from sheer force. You whimper and he rubs the spot as an apology, squeezing it slightly.

When you close your eyes and grind particularly hard against his face, he groans into your cunt, the vibrations making you cry out. It felt impossibly good; was this what you had been missing out on all this time? Now you felt a little sorry for yourself, too.

But you can't even think with him in between your legs, eating you out like a five-star course meal. Slick and saliva run down your inner thighs, probably making a mess of his chin, the image being almost enough to send you over the edge.

“Fuck, Eiji, you're so good... Don't stop, oh my god...”

“Hmm?” he hums and you shiver, sitting straighter now to throw the skimpy dress over your head before leaning back, bracing yourself by placing your palms onto his clothed chest so you could move faster.

“God, fuck, fuck, fuck...” you chant over and over, the length of his tongue making your body turn to mush.

Not only do you melt from his skillfulness, but you also feel a familiar heat building up in your lower stomach the longer he thrusts his tongue into you, reducing you to nothing but a moaning mess. You rock your hips and squeeze your thighs, essentially suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll to the back of his head while a deep groan vibrates through your folds. Having you clench down on his tongue while you chase your high and cut off his oxygen makes him see stars right alongside you, needing to bury himself deeper, to smother himself with your taste, with your addictive scent. He can't believe he's doing this, but he knows he never wants to stop.

“Eiji, I'm, fuck, I'm gonna—” and just like that, with another thrust of his tongue, you shake as your release washes over you, coating the lower half of his face.

You learn one more thing about Eijirou. He doesn't like to waste any of your precious time.

The redhead dives right back in, not letting you recover even for a second. He's more aggressive with it the second time he makes you come and becomes completely pussy drunk the third time, so much so you have to literally push his head away and slide down to his chest with trembling thighs to get him to stop.

A growl ripples through the room, shocking your pretty fucked out self back to life. God, you really need to work on your stamina.

“You taste fucking amazing,” he pants, propping himself up onto his elbows and grabbing the back of your head, “C'mere, pretty.”

He smashes his lips with yours and you taste yourself on his tongue, core flaring with need once again. As your tongues dance a longing waltz, you find the hem of his shirt and tug at it, earning his attention. He instantly sheds the piece of fabric, reconnecting your lips mere moments later.

The tips of his fingers sneak underneath the cups of your bra, taunting you with a grin. You bite his lower lip in an attempt to speed things up, letting him know just how much you yearn for him. And who is he to deny such a nice, pretty lady like yourself? A hand circles your figure, reaching to undo the clasp of your bra.

“If you'll let me, I'll make you the happiest woman in the world,” he whispers on your lips, leaning his forehead against yours as he removes your bra, drinking in the sight with blown, lovesick pupils. “Just ask and I'll do anything.”

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully, “Well... First off, I want you to fuck me silly. If you can.”

His face lights up, a boyish chuckle rippling through the air, “Your wish is my command. I gotta stretch you out first, so lay back.”

You do as you're told, lying down on the bed as he finally takes off your soaked panties, folding them neatly to place them on top of his nightstand. He crawls over to you, spreading your legs and finding purchase between them while softly squeezing your inner thighs. You take this opportunity to trace the bulging muscles on his body, realizing exactly just how big he was. No wonder he could tackle his adversaries so easily, the man was definitely a gym rat. But something catches your eye; the multiple scars decorating his tanned skin in odd shapes. You follow one on his bicep with the pad of your middle finger, sending a shiver down his spine from the clear tenderness in your touch.

“Where'd you get these from?” you whisper through the darkness and stillness of his room, adding to the intimate factor.

Eijirou glances down, placing a large palm on top of yours, “American football is very... intense, let's say. Don't worry, though. They don't hurt anymore.”

You stare as he kisses the back of your hand, trailing kisses up from your wrist to your elbow, “I see. When you come over, remind me to give you the ointment I have. It's really good for scars.”

Nothing escapes him, a smirk twisting his face at your wording, “‘When’? Damn, sweetheart, you want me that bad, huh?”

You giggle, smacking his beefy arm, “Shut up.”

“Gladly.”

Then his lips find yours again while his middle finger teases your folds, sinking into your twitching hole with ease. You were so wet already from coming three times that just a few thrusts and another finger later, you were more than ready to take him. Finally.

He hooks a finger under his pants and drags them down along with his boxers as he watches your reaction intently. Just before his manhood could spring out, you stiffen a giggle, earning a quirked brow from him.

“‘Mr. Big'?” you quote the brand written on the elastic band of his boxers, pulling a laugh out of him as well.

But then he eases them down, his cock springing free and smacking his stomach in the process, and all you can do is stare wide-eyed. He was insanely girthy, a pang of fear rushing through you at having that inside you. He must've noticed, because he leans over you to press a soothing kiss to your temple, thumb kneading your hip, other hand reaching into his pocket.

“I'll go slow, okay?” he murmurs, placing a pillow under your rear to keep you in a more comfortable position, one that he knew shouldn't hurt, all while ripping open a condom and rolling it on his shaft. “Relax for me, baby.”

You nod and wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him pressed against you as he palms his cock, lining it up with your entrance. He runs the tip through your folds once, twice, spreading your slick with breathy groans he can't bother muffling, not when the heat emanating from you has him leaking so much. And when his tip catches your hole, bending the length of his dick slightly as he pushes it in with slow, calculated strength, he nearly comes on the spot. You mewl, clawing at his back while he continues, pushing inch after inch into your tight hole.

“C'mon, angel, just a bit more,” he mutters through clenched teeth at how your pussy clenches like a vice, thumb finding its way to your clit to rub it lazily. “That's it. Good girl.”

“Ah, Eiji, s'too big— Holy fuck!” the words come out muffled because you bite into his shoulder to keep yourself grounded when he slips in so deep he's basically kissing your cervix. You feel elated, you see colorful shapes, and taste iron in your mouth, but god if it doesn't feel good. He's so deep, so warm, the rubber of the condom not doing much to contain the indents of his veins that tickle your walls enough to have you moaning every time he twitches. It's insane, you're connected and the pleasure is insane.

“Feel how good that is, baby? How my cock reaches so deep?” he whispers into your ear, nibbling on it slightly. His hands are on either side of you, making sure you're okay before gently pulling out and thrusting into you again. “Those exes of yours have no idea what they're missing. Seeing your face twist with pleasure and screaming my name is... Fuck, it's the best thing I've ever seen.”

“Ah, ah, Eiji! Faster!”

His hips snap against yours, the unholy noise bouncing off the walls and amplified when he picks up the pace. “Princess, there's nothing wrong with you. Your body is perfect,” to prove his point, he kneads your breast with one hand while the other works on your clit, “And it's only for me. This beautiful, gorgeous body, all mine. You're mine, angel, aren't you?”

The tip of his cock bullies your g-spot relentlessly, effortlessly making you arch your back and your vision blur. Pleasure like this should be illegal, you think through the haze of being fucked so good you know you won't be able to walk for a week.

“Ah, ah, yes! All yours!”

He grins, giving your breast a rest to cup your cheek instead, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. “Good. I'm all yours, too, princess.”

He doesn't even have to tell you to use him as you please, because you're already moving your hips to meet his unforgiving thrusts, searching for your fourth high of the night. Something tells you that you won't be leaving his bed anytime soon and you honestly wouldn't have it any other way. You want him to make you indisputably his, to wipe the taste of Katsuki from your lips — even though he already did, a long time ago.

“You're so tight, fuuuck,” his curse doesn't go unnoticed and you muster up the strength to smirk, knowing you were the one who made Eijirou Kirishima, the nicest man on campus, curse out of pleasure. An achievement ticked off your list.

Glancing up to see your flushed face, the smirk on your lips catching him off guard. His heart races wildly in his chest with a sudden rush of possessiveness and he digs his sharp teeth into the side of your smoot neck, deciding a few marks would look delicious on you. Sucking and licking while he pounds into you like a dog in heat, scratching his back is all you can do to stop yourself from immediately releasing, wanting to do it at the same time as him.

“Such a pretty girl,” he chants praises against your sweaty skin, marking you up without a care in the world, “My pretty girl.”

You squeeze his cock and he gets lost in your gummy walls, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his grunts become louder.

“Angel, I'm not gonna last if you do that,” he nearly whimpers and you know you're done for if he plows into you a few more times, especially with the way his cock twitches when it bounces off that sweet spot he loves to abuse.

“You're so, ah... So handsome... Ah, hng,” you return the praises, shaky hands tangling in his hair to keep his weight on your body like a protective blanket, your back arching off the bed.

His eyes drift down to where one ends and the other begins, noticing a frothy ring of your mixed juices circling his base. That, combined with your words, have the man blushing, hips stuttering as he goes above and beyond to make you feel even better.

“Baby, I can't... Fuck, I'm gonna...”

“Y-Yeah, me too...”

Soon enough, his hand rubs your clit and you soak his lower part in your juices while he spills inside the condom, both screaming for each other while doing so. And it's the most beautiful thing you've ever experienced; so blissed out you can only catch your breath quietly as he pulls out to take off the used rubber, tying it up at the top with shaky hands.

You close your eyes for a moment, basking in the aftermath of making love. This truly felt real, not just plain sex for the man's enjoyment. You don't even realize when he comes back to wipe you down with a damp cloth, lost in your imagination.

“You did so well for me, darling. I'll treat you so well from now on.”

However, you seemed to have forgotten how much stamina athletes possessed. Because you feel his breath fanning your core again, making your eyes shoot open and butterflies swim in your stomach.

“Think you can handle one more for me?”

Imagine how shocked your friends were when you showed up to his match, not only wearing his jersey, but also matching bracelets you guys made on your first date. You finally got the man of your dreams.

© chocogoldie 2024.

a/n: sorry this took longer than it should've!!! was so busy i could barely get any sleep these past few days ajjdkdkd so i'm sorry if it's rushed or just kinda bad in general 🫠🫠 as always, not proofread nor edited!

taglist: @dinorawrss @nouktis @channnee @eyesforbkg @imnotabot-ipromise @marmoney2000 @st4rlightisa @i-the-fluffo