⠀⠀⠀jolie 𖦹 twenty 𖦹 shidō’s soulmate 𖦹 sero’s girl

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⠀⠀⠀jolie 𖦹 twenty 𖦹 shidō’s soulmate 𖦹 sero’s girl

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in my fingertips i burn my worries. . .
sero⠀hanta⠀+⠀high⠀sex⠀✶
if paradise really existed, it was right there in hanta’s bedroom every single time you guys smoked a joint and you rode his dick.
your hips are shaking, his tip rubbing right against your belly button. hanta takes a drag from the joint and groans, letting the smoke out through his nose as you take his whole length inside, mumbling something like fuck... just like that, princess. look at you…
he hands you the joint and grips your waist, lifting you up and sliding you back down. you take a deep hit, letting the heat fill your throat while he fucks you hard.
“hanta…” you moan. he takes the joint back and laughs softly, totally chill, like he isn’t completely wrecking you right now.
“need some help?”
he fucking loves teasing you. his lips wrap around the joint, and he leans back to watch your gorgeous little pussy swallow him whole.
“look at you, taking it like that... holy shit.”
you grip his bare shoulders, weak from the compliment. you press your mouth against his, hungrily stealing the smoke right out of his throat. a rush of intense heat passes between you two, leaving both of you lightheaded.
hanta loves hyping you up like this. he loves seeing how turned on you get with every whisper, how your tits bounce right in front of his face. while your hand tangles in his dark hair to pull him close, his hands squeeze you, digging deep into the flesh of your thighs.
“fucking gorgeous,” he rasps out the compliment, his heavy, bedroom eyes blown wide. he sets the joint down on the ashtray on top of the dresser.
in these quiet moments, he’s so sweet, pacing himself and taking his time inside you. with you, hanta just takes it all in, completely lost in how good you feel around him.
“can you handle it on your own, babe?”
“can’t…” he chuckles softly, his breath tickling your skin. “just use me, please.”
he can’t keep his cool. not when you’re looking up at him like that, with those wide, teary, completely infatuated eyes.
“use you?”
you nod eagerly, pouting. he takes a deep breath, feeling you squeeze him even tighter.
“use you like a fucking whore, yeah? is that what you want? want me to fuck you till you cum?” you gasp, but it only makes you wetter, moaning non-stop. his hands grip your waist again, slamming you down all the way to the hilt. “shit, girl. has nobody ever dick’d you down right before?”
your only response is to cling to him, pressing your breasts right against his face. he groans, clicking his tongue, his black-painted nails digging into your hips.
“fuck, you’re killing me,” he breathes out, his breath brushing over one of your swollen nipples. he sucks it into his mouth, letting it pop out a second later. “then i’m gonna use you, just like the needy little bitch you are.”
“do– do it, hanta. please, please, please–”
fucking perfect.
hanta flips the positions, pinning you hard onto the mattress. he leaves marks on the curve of your ass, fucking you over and over.
“touch yourself, baby” he says, his pupils completely swallowing his irises. “let me feel you melt all over me.”
you blush at how dirty it is, even though you’ve ended up in his bed a million times.
you’re soaking him, squirting as your fingers and his press against your clit, pushing you right over the edge. he follows right after, covering your back in thick, sticky cum since you guys don’t use protection.
you’re panting. he gently pulls your hair back and kisses you softly.
“beautiful, sexy as fuck,” he whispers, kissing the back of your neck. “my princess.”
it’s been like this since the day you found each other. you lie down, and he brushes the hair out of your face, just staring at you, his eyes saying things words could never do justice. turning you over, eating you out, and making you cum all over again, never letting a single drop of your sweetness go to waste. you smoke and fuck a little more until the rest of the world fades away. eventually, you fall asleep high as a kite in the messy bed, naked bodies barely covered by the sheet.
and it’s that same kind of celebration every single time you guys smoke.
nerd!tenya helps you pass algebra so he can get a reward ⭑.ᐟ
it’s tuesday. linear algebra class. a long, cold, miserable hour under a headache-inducing white fluorescent light.
you only took this class because someone told you the prof was totally chill, except he’s totally not, and now you’re locked in for the whole semester.
a literal nightmare.
you always sit all the way in the back. you pretend to be typing on your laptop, but you’re actually online shopping for new clothes. your phone is on the desk, recording the lecture so you can listen to it later when you study. but you won’t. you never do.
when you get bored, you just start people-watching. it’s become a habit at college.
the guy sitting in front of you is texting his girlfriend. the girl next to you is taking notes on an ipad that looks obscenely expensive. two other girls are whispering so the prof won’t snap at them.
and that’s when you see him.
front row, since day one. dark, messy hair, like he couldn’t be bothered to brush it. black hoodie. glasses that he keeps pushing up with his middle finger. a backpack covered in pins that look like they’re from some pretty sketchy animes.
the kind of guy who probably collects action figures, even the ones of female characters with ridiculously oversized boobs. the kind of guy who turns in assignments early and apologizes for formatting errors. the kind of guy who definitely gets turned on when girls yell at him.
you watch him answer a question once, his voice so quiet you can barely hear it from your seat, and it makes you think of only one thing:
this guy is a total dork, and i want him in my bed right now.
at first, you don’t do anything about it. you just get closer, row by row, like a predator slowly circling its prey. he doesn’t even notice — he’s way too busy studying or whatever.
every single class, he’s hunching over his desk, writing in his notebook with those long fingers of his. he frowns whenever the prof messes something up. he still uses wired earbuds in the age of bluetooth.
you can feel this thing growing inside you every time he adjusts his glasses. every time he mumbles a that’s actually wrong… before trailing off, embarrassed. you want to sit on his lap and completely ruin his academic career.
after three weeks, you finally snap.
you catch him right after class on his way to the cafeteria, his earbuds hanging around his neck. his fingers are tangled in his hoodie strings, backpack slung over one shoulder, looking like he barely remembers he exists outside of the classroom.
he stops dead in his tracks when you call his name.
“īda tenya?”
he blinks frantically.
“me?”
he’s taller than you expected, in a slightly awkward way. shoulders slouched, like he’s trying to make himself look smaller. his dark frames slide down his nose. he smells faintly of clean laundry and cedarwood cologne.
you hate the effect it has on you.
you lean in a little, smirking like you know a secret he doesn’t.
“you’re pretty smart, aren’t you?” you start. “way too smart. the type to correct the prof mid-lecture.”
he flushes, stammering.
“o-only if they’re, like, wrong? and that’s only sometimes!”
so cute, oh my gosh.
you step closer, near enough to see his pupils dilate a bit.
“i need some help with algebra, handsome,” you say, your voice dropping to a sweet purr. “and you seem like you’d be good at it. you know, prof īda… sounds great to me.”
his mouth opens. closes.
“uhm... okay?”
“library, at seven?”
he nods, slow and dazed. your smirk widens.
“if you behave and help me pass,” your voice is slow enough to make him gulp, “i might even give you a little reward.”
you don’t wait for an answer; you just spin on your heel and walk away. when you look back, he’s still standing there. totally frozen, mouth slightly open, brain completely fried.
oh, this is gonna be so much fun.
tenya actually shows up at the library that night, even though you weren’t entirely sure he would. he arrives at exactly three minutes to seven, holding a massive stack of books.
“hey!” you greet him, flashing a smile as he sits down next to you. he almost drops the books right off the table.
“hi. so... what exactly are you struggling with?”
you don’t even bother pretending you know what’s going on. you just hand over your notes with a shrug and start watching him.
tenya is so serious. brows furrowed. lips pressed tight. you’re supposed to be studying, but all you can think about is what his hands would feel like around your neck. how red he’d get if you kissed him right this second and messed with his hoodie strings.
hours later, he’s already explained two chapters, drawn a graph, and unconsciously flexed his hands at least a dozen times.
you lean back, stretch, and smile sweetly at him.
“you’re a really great teacher, tenya.”
he gets all flustered and scratches the back of his neck.
“thank you.”
“don’t thank me yet,” you murmur. “you’ve got office hours with me again tomorrow.”
you don’t do anything. not yet. you let him go home completely dazed, probably wondering if he imagined the whole thing.
over the next two weeks, you meet up with him three more times.
once in the library, once in the cafeteria, and once after class in an empty study room. each time, he gets a little bolder. not a lot, just enough for you to notice.
his knees brush against yours under the table. he teases you when you get a problem wrong. he holds your gaze just a fraction longer than before, until you’re the one who finally looks away first.
“i’m actually learning!” you admit one night.
he shrugs, a faint, almost cocky smile playing on his lips.
“credit goes to your tutor. you said if i behaved, i’d get a reward.”
his voice is deeper, lower, like he’s finally starting to realize the kind of effect he has on you.
your smirk is lethal.
“maybe on your last day on the job, handsome.”
you texted tenya on a thursday telling him this would be a “final review before the exam.”
he shows up in yet another hoodie and jeans combo. the lenses of his glasses are actually clean for once, a total miracle. his hair is still messy, but in a way that looks almost intentional.
you pretend you’re actually studying for fifteen minutes. fifteen. after that, you crawl right onto your classmate’s lap, settling yourself between his thighs, and tilt his chin up.
“i know i’m gonna pass this class... and it’s all thanks to you, tenya. so, can i finally give you your reward?”
tenya doesn’t even answer. he just leans in and kisses you like he’s been thinking about it for weeks.
and he’s so gentle. so eager. he kisses you with this intense, messy passion, his hands hovering right over your waist like he’s terrified of holding you too tight. you grind against him once, and he gasps out a groan.
“hey… wait– wait a sec!”
you pull back and smirk.
“don’t tell me this is your first time?”
he flushes bright red, but his eyes are sharp now, gleaming under the dim light.
“and what makes you say that?”
“‘cause you’re a nerd, tenya. a total dork. you’ve never used a single unexcused absence. you have a million anime pins. oh, and you literally drop your phone whenever i look at you for more than five seconds!”
“so what?” he murmurs, his voice going raspy as he licks your lips. “i could still make you cum.”
your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. he chuckles, flashing a devastating smile. his glasses slide down his perfect nose, and his hands slide right up your thighs.
“wanna bet?”
you don’t even make it past the first part of the “study” session before he already has you pinned to the couch.
the notebooks are forgotten on the floor. your panties are pushed down to your mid-thighs, tenya’s hoodie tossed somewhere in the room. one of his hands grips your chin while the other works you, two fingers buried deep inside you.
“where’d all that attitude go?” he whispers against your mouth, his breath hot and his voice low. “weren’t you calling me a nerd? a dork? isn’t that what you said, pretty?”
you gasp, trying to thrust your hips, but his grip is iron. his fingers curl right against your sweet spot, making you arch your back.
“baby... fuck.”
“say it,” he chuckles, moving his hand up to lightly wrap around your throat. “tell me i’m a loser. a dork.”
you let out a soft moan.
“you’re– aw, shit– you’re not!”
“what?” his thumb circles your clit. “didn’t hear you.”
it’s unbelievable how wet you are. cream is dripping down his knuckles, pooling right under your ass on the cushions. he’s still wearing his glasses, and they’re slightly fogged up now.
“please…” you sigh. “just... just fuck me already.”
he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, tasting you right in front of your eyes.
“asking so nicely, all whiny like that... man, i can’t say no,” he murmurs with a wicked grin. “i’m going to, doll. but we’re gonna play first.”
you expected him to drop to his knees, not lock his hands around your hips and toss you right over his face. īda lies down on the couch, sliding one arm under your thigh, pulling you down onto his mouth.
“holy shit.”
his tongue is filthy and sloppy. his sharp nose rubs against your clit with every single stroke, and he groans like he’s the one coming. you pant, grinding yourself against his handsome face, grabbing a fistful of his hair like a woman possessed.
he pulls back once to catch his breath, wetting his lips, his eyes hooded and his voice raw.
“so beautiful… i could stay down here all night.”
you cum right on his tongue, twice.
by the time he lets you up, your legs are shaking, and he’s hard. painfully hard.
“come here,” he says, gesturing. “come give me my little reward.”
you get on your knees without a second thought. his dick is thick, pre-cum dripping from the tip. it is way too big for the loser vibe he pulls off in class.
“tenya,” you whisper, wrapping your hand around him, sliding it slow up and down. “were you hiding this from me?”
“no, i was just waiting for you to find out,” he says, adjusting his glasses for the thousandth time tonight, looking completely smug.
you stroke him slowly, teasing him, then lean in and run your tongue along the underside. tenya’s breath hitches.
“fuck…”
you take him into your mouth inch by inch, sucking your cheeks in. he groans and grips the back of your neck.
“so good for me…” he murmurs, his hips twitching. “you know exactly how to take a dick like a little slut, babe.”
you moan around his length, sighing at the taste, at the way his thigh tenses under your hand.
he fucks your mouth slowly. not too deep, not yet. just enough to make your eyes water. when he pulls you away, you’re breathless, spit dripping down your chin.
“get on the couch,” he commands. “on your hands and knees.”
you move quickly, bending over, and he lets out a low groan.
“look at you, holy fuck…”
he lines himself up behind you, sliding the head of his dick between your folds, and leans down to whisper in your ear.
“you really gonna let this virgin loser fuck you like this?” he murmurs, kissing your neck.
“stop, ‘nya…” you fake a whine. “please... want you…”
and he buries it all the way in, in one smooth thrust. you groan in shock, eyes rolling back. one of his hands digs into your hip, and the other presses between your shoulder blades, pinning you down.
he starts fucking you like he’s been waiting a lifetime for this. dirty, ruthless, fast, and hard. so deep you can barely think.
“not so cocky when you’re taking it like this, huh?” he pants. “still think i’m just a nerd?”
you scream and moan, your face buried in the pillow. tenya leans down, wrapping one hand firmly around your throat, groaning loud as you squeeze him tight.
“your pussy feels so fucking good, babe,” he whispers. “i knew it would. couldn’t stop thinking about it. fuck... i’m gonna wreck you.”
he pulls out and flips you over, completely ignoring your whine of protest. he pushes your legs all the way back against your chest and drives back in hard. you cum again, shaking and sobbing, and he covers your mouth with a deep kiss to catch your moans during the orgasm.
tenya pulls back just enough to look at you, sweat glistening on his forehead, his pupils completely blown.
“where do you want it?” he grunts, his hips twitching, right on the edge. “on your stomach? or that pretty little face?”
“cum inside me, tenya.”
“jesus fucking christ…” he groans. “you’re such fucking a slut.”
he thrusts deep and slow as he comes, his hips rolling erratically against yours.
you both lock eyes through the whole thing, panting, completely spent. your bodies are tangled together on the cheap couch in your apartment.
he pulls out slowly, watching the semen leak out of you, and lets out a sly smirk.
“if i were your professor, i’d give you extra credit for that.”
kiss me and i might drop dead! ❤︎ ྀི
the moment you laid eyes on kirishima you knew he’d be yours.
you knew it the second he followed you on instagram. when you stalked his profile. when he liked one of your photos. when he slid into your dms, all sweet and polite. when you talked for weeks on end and realized that pretty face came with an actual personality. and when he asked you out, that’s when you were absolutely certain: this one’s taken. it’s feminine intuition.
the bar he brought you to closed at eleven, but you didn’t want him to finish his drink. you’d never had conversations like the ones you had tonight, and you’d never enjoyed getting to know someone so much. from nostalgic memories to places you’d been (or wanted to go), favorite bands and movies, random compliments, and eyes full of wonder — you completely lost yourself in him.
was it his adorable way of being? or maybe the fact that he’s so tall he leaned down every time he couldn’t hear you, bringing his ear close to your mouth with a soft, hm? (so natural he didn’t even notice). it could be because while other guys smell like the same old generic cologne, he smells like pink pepper, cinnamon, and something uniquely his own.
was kirishima eijirō a figment of your imagination? you know, too good to be true. big, soft hands that didn’t miss a single chance to drum on the table (or to hold yours). a narrow waist, broad shoulders. his eyes. there was a good chance those ruby eyes came from another planet, staring at you as if you were the most precious thing in existence.
there are so many possibilities of what charmed you about this boy. and out of all of them…
“look at this…”
...this one is the most surprising.
“holy shit,” you hear him whisper huskily beneath you. “i’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
you moan in response, your hips grinding against his faster and harder with every passing second. you’re building the pressure, desperately chasing that friction against your clit. it’s so good it’s almost frustrating — but your pussy is craving pure skin-on-skin contact.
eijirō gazes up at you with those eyes that were once so attentive. now, they’re dazed, exhausted, and completely consumed by the pleasure and the sight of you alone. his boxers have darkened over the last few minutes, and your panties weren’t far behind. every single rub of his clothed erection against your needy clit makes you press down even tighter against his crotch. your nails dig into his massive biceps, leaving marks.
“eiji…” you whisper. the redhead beneath you grabs your hips, rolling you over with a controlled, precise movement that leaves you feeling lightheaded. way tipsier than the beer from the bar ever could. “eiji–”
“tell me, pretty,” he rasps, his voice rough, almost feral, as he brings a hand up to your face. “what d’you want? want more? i’m givin’ it to you. ain’t even asked what i want, baby. you’ve just been usin’ me…”
the flushed skin of your ass says otherwise. kirishima is good at sweet-talking and heavy making out, intense kisses, and getting clothes on the floor.
and he’s so cynical. who would’ve thought? the golden retriever from instagram, controlling the way you grind against him and then turning around to blame you for it. it’s not your fault he’s this damn good!
his hand on your face isn’t enough to make you look at him. you’re way too focused on what you’re feeling. his cock is so huge behind those boxers, you can feel it. you want to feel it better.
“is eiji makin’ you feel good, baby? does it feel nice?” his fingers tap your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. no luck. “open your eyes, i wanna look at you.”
you obey. he smirks.
“there she is…” his thumb wanders over your lips, tracing them. his other hand stays firm, guiding you. “my beautiful girl is doin’ so well. feels so fucking good, babe. you’re gonna make me cum from this like a loser.”
his finger slips into your mouth. you suck on it hornily, knitting your brows, giving him a look that’s part pathetic, part incredibly hot. and it does the trick. kirishima feels his cock throb, dying to fuck you senseless and watch that pretty face of yours distort.
his thumb forces your mouth open. kirishima spits directly onto your tongue, no formalities whatsoever. not that there could be any.
“swallow.”
you do, grinding against him faster and with even more heat. everything he does turns you into melted butter under a hot sun, like play-dough in those big, gym-calloused hands of his. your panties are soaked, drenching his boxers too. you can feel the head of his dick perfectly against your pussy. it fits so well, as if it belongs there. you could just push the fabric aside and slip it in.
feels like a dream. he’s so fucking hot. you want to cum so bad.
“i’m close…”
“gonna cum for me, baby?” he whispers right in your ear. his hands grip your ass perfectly, fingers splayed across your skin, squeezing like a man in total awe. he grinds you just right, hitting the sweet spot as if he could read your mind. “fuck, babe… you’re doin’ so well. wanna cum? wanna cum so fucking good for me? go ahead, gorgeous. i got you.”
you feel like you’re gonna drop dead any second. before that happens, you make sure to grab his face and kiss him. and you kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss him. it’s a messy, breathless kiss, all tongues and saliva. you want to reach the edge just like this, trying to melt right into him.
you can feel yourself shaking. your limbs go weak, your body spasms. even as you kiss him, your sweet little sounds escape into his mouth — whimpering, relieved whimpers. kiri doesn’t let you stop; he keeps rolling your hips against his cock, stretching out your pleasure until it becomes sweet torture, leaving you helpless from the intense stimulation.
he finds himself groaning along with you when you finally tumble over the edge of orgasm. you come hard, his fingers instantly tangling into your hair, gripping your scalp and totally dominating the kiss. when your body finally stops twitching, freed from the rush of pleasure, you pull apart at last, finally able to breathe. you stare at each other for a second, eyes hypnotized, pupils blown wide, with no sound but your heavy, ragged breathing as you both try to catch your breath.
you rest your head on his shoulder, exhausted. eijirō strokes your back up and down, pressing soft kisses to your hair and cheek. bodies are pressed together, sticky and covered in sweat.
“you okay, princess? everything good? was it good for you?”
you let out a weak little laugh, genuinely fulfilled.
you feel like you might’ve just found something rare. maybe you found exactly what you were looking for.
best fucking first date ever.