💙nothing beats a cloudy day💙

“he’s my coworker, eijirou. he was just being polite.” you sniff, not daring to look up nor force yourself to be level with his eyes. you rummage through your little purse for the car keys you’d sworn you had stashed beside your gloss earlier — because it distracts you from the sweltering heat of the man towering over you. “he’s nice.”

eijirou smiles, dangling silver keys and riot themed key chains before you. they glint tauntingly under the street lamp.

“am i not nice enough to you? is that why you let him get so close?” he taunts you further.

denying him would be a lie. eijirou takes care of you, the point where your only concern, really, is breathing. there are groceries stocked in your fridge every weekend thanks to his dime, you get your dream clothes and dress pretty and the pro hero takes you for dinner at least three times a week. to say you live in luxury would be an understatement, every step you take is cushioned by comfort and at first… you loved it. you were pampered a little too much to notice the signs, the slick and grimy version of your boyfriend hiding deep within.

nowadays you grimace when he brings you flowers and cringe when he kisses the back of your hand at a steak dinner — but you’d never leave him, you’re caught like an insect in a treacly web or an ant who’s downed in sugar water.

“you’re being awful right now, eiji.” you cross your arms instead — keep your honesty close to your chest. you give an inch and eijirou runs a mile because he lives for the way you can’t help but blubber when he makes you mad. it seems that his expression, all pearly white teeth and bright eyes, bleeds into his cheeks and his skin there folds with smile lines. you mirror his opposite — lip drawn into a pout.

the red head circles you, coming to stand before you. his smart leather shoes become a muddled blur alongside the stone grey pavement and atoll, his red is vibrant. like he’s supposed to be the only thing you focus on. “i am, aren’t i?” comes his patronising coo, the sound settling in your chest. “poor baby, i’m just so mean to you and i’m such a bad guy.”

“stop it.” you simper like a child, going on to deny the cotton words he puts in your mouth. “i — gosh — i never even said that.”

god, you feel like a child. being scolded for a lie you never told and he relishes in the way you shrink down to feel smaller than you are next to him. his sweet, sweet girl who takes being picked on like a champ.

kirishima bends to your height, head tilted to the side as he regards you with a blameless expression. “are you crying? you know, you’re real pretty when you cry.” the world would never believe you if you told on him. that their manly hero who strikes with red is no better than a high school bully.

he twirls the hem of your pale pink dress — a romantic sight to passers by. a taunt to you. a threat that sends a thrilling shiver down the segments of your spine that hardly help you stand tall. “c’mere.” kirishima mocks your pout — puckering up. “can i kiss you?”

you nod more with bambi eyes glossed over with angel’s tears. the hero stands high and mighty then, rough palms melding to the curves of your hips so that he can better drag you into him. they provide warming comfort where his eyes are cold and cruel — bemused by the silent snivels you weakly attempt to swallow down.

irregardless you’re magnetised to eijirou — standing on your tippy toes, craning your neck, lips pressed to his like you’ve sealed them with a promise. his thick, hot tongue swipe over the seam in an attempt to pry you open because you’re a flower. something precious and winds towards him and blooms just for him. he tastes like whatever sweet cocktail had happened to pass him by at the dinner table — syrup and sugar coated lies and love held underneath his tongue. he’s mean to you, yes, but oh does he adore you.

he kisses you like he owns you, right there amongst twinkling city lights and strangers passing by. you think you’ll learn to live with that, being his property, belonging to someone with enough power to protect. he’ll push and poke you but never away. always within reach, always so that he can lead you home.

you mewl in frustration when kirishima lets your lips go — following a filthy smack.

red riot laughs. “you told me to stop.”

“didn’t mean it.” you’re honest.

“you never do.” his grip steadily traverses your back, two hands enough to map out the entire expanse. “wanna take you home. be all over you. will you let me?”

…

he doesn’t take kind to your silence. “words, sweet thing. talk to me.”

“yes, you can take me home. i-i’d like that.” nodding again like a dumb little thing, you link your arms behind kirishima’s head — fingers finding purchase in his ruby mane. you bring him back to you.

eijirou pats your cheek. just once, not enough to be considered a slap. “and what else?”

“‘m talkin’ eijirou, i am!” you huff, close to stomping your feet. the tantrum brews like a tropical storm just off the coast — warm, with rain cloud tears that bring a sense of humidity in the form of arousal. kirishima gives you a pointed look and then: “i’m sorry for calling you mean.” you say in defeat, batting your eyelashes apologetically.

once more, he smiles. “that’s right baby girl,” then he laughs, growling at the little nip you give to his bottom lip. “when we get home, i want you on your stomach. ass in the air. no touchin’. i’ll show you how mean i can really be.”

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He bottomed out, pressing the dull head of his weeping cock into the soft, velvety wall of your cervix. He has to swallow a groan, you’re fucking ovulating. 

“I-I want a baby, Sy…” you feel your lips trembling as you speak, one hand shaking as it detaches from his shoulder to cup his flushed, sweaty cheek. “Don’t say things in the heat of the moment you don’t mean, kitten.” He presses a little harder, punishingly, as if testing your resolve.

You mewl, hips instinctively jerking up but he grips your hips harder to drag you back down. “M’not saying something I-I don’t mean, Sy.”

You’re gasping, clenching around his throbbing cock as he mercilessly keeps you pinned in place.

“You’re speaking from a place of clouded judgment.” He reasons, not hurt or turned off, just trying to rationalize your sudden confession. “Sylus, I’m being s-so serious…!”

Still, he looks down at you quizzically. It sets a fire in your stomach, anger bubbling through the pleasure as you draw your other hand from his shoulder to grab on to the other side of his face. It was nearly a slap, enough to startle him into blinking down at you as if he’d just realized what predicament you were both currently in. 

“Why is it so hard for you to believe I’d want to have a baby with you? You’re my husband, Sylus.” You were so full of him, so pressed together it was truly impossible to tell where one started at the other ended. Those words seem to rattle something deep within his core, the crimson of his eye grew blinding for a moment. “Say that again.” 

“You’re my husband, Sylus. I want to have your babies.”

The metal of your wedding band had long since adapted to the heat of his skin, resting smoothly against his beautifully flushed cheekbone.

“Give me a baby, Sylus. I want your baby so bad, I want to have a family with you. M’not just saying it because you’re making me feel so-so good…” 

He’s twitching, every word is sending his body into overdrive and yet his mind can’t seem to catch up. He’s staring at you, mouth cutely agape, unable to make his hips restart their motion. “Sylus, please.”

You attempt to move for him, but his grip is still iron on your skin. He’s keeping you in place, breathing heavy as he tries so desperately to sort himself. “Sylus, if you give me a baby, I’ll finally do it. I’ll join Onychinus.” Your last ditch effort, before adding oh so softly “Unless… you don’t want to have babies with me. I understand…”

There it is, the actual slap back to reality.

No words can convey what he wants to say in that moment, but thankfully, his body finally obeys him. You’re smothered by his mouth, lips melding perfectly against your own and swallowing up any doubts that had begun to creep into your mind. His hips move with brutal force once more, pounding you so deeply the bed creaks.

“There is nothing…” he’s gasping into your open mouth, your jaw having gone slack from pleasure. “…I’d want more in this life…” he’s so close, and judging by the way you’re clamping down around him, so are you. “…than to have a family with you. Don’t you dare ever think otherwise.”

If you weren’t melting from the pleasure radiating in your lower half, you’d give him shit for giving you such major whiplash. Though, you couldn’t necessarily blame him, could you? You did kind of spring this on him mid-fuck…

“Sylus m’gonna…” your hands slide back, leaving his face to bury themselves in the damp strands of silvery hair. You tug hard, crushing his lips against yours once more. You don’t need his verbal encouragement, not when his hand is slipping between your bodies to start circling your clit.

Your orgasm ruins you, stars spotting your vision as you nearly tug a chunk of his hair clean from his scalp. You barely process the fact that he’s cumming with you, filling you just as you asked him to.

“Thank you, thank you…” you manage, a lazy, breathless smile on your face as you pull away from him. Sylus, however, is smirking down at your fucked out expression.

“Don’t thank me until we know it sticks…” thumbing the sweat from your temple, he mutter softly. “Maybe a couple more rounds? Now that I know what you’re looking for me to do, I have to make sure I’m thorough…”

there were very few aspects of sylus’ life that weren’t luxurious.

his home had the highest quality furniture, all of his electronics were the latest models, some of which weren’t even available to the public yet, and even one outfit could fully pay for a group of student’s college tuition.

sylus had no problem with you wandering his home, but the one room you’d not yet conquered was his bedroom- specifically his bed.

the first challenge was it’s size: an alaskan king. crawling from one side of the bed to the other was like crawling through the desert towards a mirage of water.

the main challenge was his sheets: silk, because of course he had 100% silk sheets.

you’d never slept on silk sheets before and you hadn’t known about their slipperiness until you learned the hard way.

you learned the first night you slept with sylus at his place. he was lounging on his bed in a silk robe, glasses low on his nose as he read a book.

he looked too good and the expensive wine from dinner earlier was starting to hit you.

he just looked so… pounceable. so that’s exactly what you did. you pounced him …if you flip p around to a b to spell bounce.

you pounced the bed, bounced, and slid (thanks to the black silk sheets) from one end of the bed to the other and right off of the mattress onto the floor with a thud. silence stretched for 5, 10, and finally 15 seconds.

“well, that was quite the approach, sweetie. if you want a slip and slide, all you have to do is say the word, i’ll buy you one.” you can hear the smirk in sylus’ voice all the way from your position on the floor.

you growled in frustration and stood, pointing an accusatory finger down at his sheets. “i hate these.”

sylus looks at you and sets his book down. you see that you were correct in your assumption that he was smirking, the evidence stretched across his face. “they’re good for your skin and allergies, what’s not to like?”

“they’re slippery!” you climb onto the bed and crawl towards sylus, moving like a cat with tape on it’s paws.

sylus laughs at your approach. “is my kitten unused to silk?”

you growl and finally curl up against him. “shut up.”

weeks pass and you’ve still yet to master the art of stability on silk sheets.

especially not when sylus was fucking you from one end to the other across them.

he had you on your knees with your chest and face pressed to the cool silk, his cock forcing your body forward with every thrust.

choked moans were punched from your lungs as you tried and failed to grip the sheets, silk slipping through your fingers like sand. “sy- hah, lusss..!”

“stay stiiill, sweetie, there’s no need to run from me.” his voice comes out with a hing of teasing, hands gently kneading the plush of your hips.

“i’m trying! your stupid- hhmmph! sheets are the problem!!” you lose your grip entirely on the sheets in question and find yourself at the edge of the bed.

you yelp and push yourself up onto your hands, fumbling for anything to hold onto to keep you on the bed while sylus continues to bully your poor pussy.

your fingers brush against the ends of the sheer canopy he has draped over the top of his large, four poster bed. in your desperation, you grip it and pull, trying to use it as leverage to keep yourself on the bed.

unfortunately, the canopy wasn’t secured well enough to hold you or itself up. the fabric was yanked down from the top of the bed, cascading down on top of the two of you.

sylus’ hips stutter as he processes what happened before laughing loudly at the scene. he brushes his fingers over the sheer fabric covering his head, following it down to where it drapes across the naked planes of your body.

being under the fabric made the already dim room even dimmer, cloaking the two of you in shadows. sylus leaves the fabric where it is and begins moving again. “silly girl, you’re no better than a kitten ripping it’s owners curtains down, hm?”

you whine now that you have nothing to hold onto. “g’nna fall!!”

he gathers your wrists in one of his hands and pulls, lifting your upper body off of the bed and dangling it over the edge so the only thing on the mattress is your knees.

his hips slap against your ass quicker and quicker, his tip drooling deep in you on every stroke.

you clamp down against him, the fear of falling intensifying the feeling in your tummy. your shoulders ached from how he was holding your arms back, but the burn was welcomed.

your head dropped forward as noises that were more crying than moaning left your lips.

“mmmh, lift your head and sit pretty for me. you wouldn't want me to drop you, would you?” sylus drawled, his grip loosening on your wrists in threat.

you squeaked and snapped your head up, the sheer fabric blanketing your face. every time you inhaled, the fabric was sucked into your mouth and it blew out on every exhale.

“c-cum- cumming!” you whine out, head spinning from all the new positions and feelings sylus was putting you through.

sylus purred and gave a few final sloppy thrusts, grinding deep into your spasming pussy, praising you through both of your orgasms.

the aftercare was a blur. sylus was rubbing lotion on your back and massaging your shoulders and arms, taking care not to push too deep. “do you still hate my sheets?”

you growl into your pillow, voice muffled. “i’m going to burn them.”

an pt2: hhhh he's ooc i hate him

dividers from @bbyg4rlhelps