#kirishima

the thing about your boyfriend, kirishima , is that he sleeps like he’s dead or doesnt sleep at all. better yet, he sleeps like a rock.

the type of sleeper that doesn’t budge — no matter how many times you poke his cheek, nudge his shoulder, or drape your body over him just to get a reaction. 

the second kirishima lets his head hit the pillow, it’s like a switch flips. one minute he’s laughing, grinning wide, all sharp teeth and warmth, and then the next… he’s out cold, arm slung over you like it’s second nature.

kirishima is also the type to subconsciously cuddle you in your sleep. even if he falls asleep on his side of the bed, he will end up glued to you. arm around your waist, leg thrown over yours, face tucked into your shoulder or neck, mumbling in his sleep: “you’re… so pretty…” “my girl…” 

on top of that, kirishima’s strength does NOT turn off... if he falls asleep holding you, whether it be your hand or your waist, you’re not escaping until he’s fully conscious. if he’s feeling nice that is…

but . . . on the nights kirishima doesn’t sleep, it’s the complete opposite.

he’ll lie there beside you, eyes open, staring at the ceiling as if tracing imaginary constellations. quieter than usual. yet his hand still always finds yours under the blanket, thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, absent circles.

boyfriend kirishima is also equivalent to that of a heater. his body runs warm 24/7, so sleeping next to him is like having a built in heated blanket . . . just one that talks in his sleep.

so yeah, your boyfriend sleeps like a rock. but a warm rock of endless praise and affirmation. a heavy one at that. but you love it.

squad being my college au k. bakugou, e. kirishima, d. kaminari, h. sero x fem!reader

mdni

enjoy!!!!

KATSUKI BAKUGOU !

bro never cared.

like at all.

because who gives a fuck about no nut november? but when denki started with his “i bet you couldn’t do it” bullshit then obviously katsuki had to show him, show them all, that yes he fucking could do it. he’s katsuki fucking bakugou, hello?

that being said:

“babe?”

katsuki’s been trying his hardest to watch this shitty-ass-movie for an hour. trying, as in, actively paying attention, hasn’t touched his phone once, determinedly reading the subtitles with this perma-scowl on his pretty face. shitty-ass-movie as in, objectively, the movie sucked, the two love interests had zero chemistry, the acting was bad, the plot had gaping holes in it.

this movie is garbage.

he has no idea why the fuck you chose it.

lie.

he does know why you chose this movie. you chose this movie, because you didn’t even wanna watch this fucking movie.

sometimes you do want to watch a fucking movie. and that’s cool, and that’s fine, because normally they are good movies, with good plots and good story telling for your planned movie nights. there's popcorn (sweet and salty), and you have gummy worms, and he makes you hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream. and he'll licks the cream off your nose with his tongue and watch you giggle. then he'll kiss you gently on the cheek, and then you snuggle into his side, and watch the goddam movie.

but this movie is garbage. and you know that, and he knows that. because normally when you put on a garbage movie it’s so there’s background noise to cover the sounds you make when he’s fucking the shit out of you.

because normally his hand would be cupping the warmth of your clothed pussy by now, and you’d be grinding into it but acting like you’re not when you most definitely are. y’know it’s a whole little game of foreplay that you do, before he has enough and man handles you onto his lap and forces you to grind on him for real until you’re sticky through your bottoms, and he pulls his cock out, and you bounce it, and clench around him with your warm, tight, wet pussy—

“—babe?”

he inhales deeply, suddenly, like he was just dunked in a tub of ice water. his head snaps towards you. “hmm?”

you’re so pretty like this. all cosy and snuggled into his side, the warm tones of his laptop screen casting a rosy glow onto the side of your face, the apple of your cheeks, the slope of your nose.

your mouth pulls into a smile as you ask him, “are you okay?”

fuck you’re so beautiful, and he feels like such a bad boyfriend.

because all he’s thinking about is nice it would be, how nice it would feel, to play with your pussy right now. his fingers would fill you up so good, and you’d clench down on him with a breathless little sigh.

and he feels horrible because he’s not giving you what you both want, all for the sake of what, some stupid challenge that he definitely, a hundred percent, cannot lose.

fuck november.

EIJIRO KIRISHIMA !

tried way too hard.

it’s all about self discipline, and honour amongst men, and bullshit, bullshit, and more bullshit tbh

but he ended over thinking it and came by accident.

lemme walk you through it:

the thing is. eijirou won’t let you suffer just because he can’t nut for an entire month. that’s not fair and it wouldn’t be right of him to put you through that. so when you come to him, all pissed off and pent up because you had a bad day, and he’s your place of comfort, because he always does right by you, and could never piss you off.

he fixes you like how he normally would.

“and then, that stupid, fucking asshole, he—oh fuc—right there—right there, eiji—eiji fuck, holy shit.”

three fingers stuffed inside your cunt, his thumb pressing hard circles on your clit while you vent about your day. he found that this is the best way for you to let off some steam, y’know, a more productive way for you to vent without threatening to murder one of your classmates because they overcorrected you, even though you were most definitely right.

“i know baby, s'alright,” he murmurs into your thigh. your thighs are so fucking soft and creamy, you’re so gorgeous and he hates seeing you so pissed over arbitrary things like this.

he kisses along the fold where your thigh meets your stomach and you almost squeal in pleasure when he grinds his fingers on that spot that makes your toes curl and your thighs clench.

“the fucking— the fucking audacity, i— can’t believe—”

“mhmmm.”

on a regular day he would be more vocal, more attentive to the words your saying, because he cares about you and about the little things in your life. it’s just—

he’s trying so hard not to cum right now.

like his sexy ass girlfriend is spread out on his bed, venting to him, moaning for him, humping his hand, whilst calling out his name.

how unfair is that.

and he hasn’t jerked off in almost three weeks, and he would fill you up so nicely right now if you asked for it. he’d slot into you so well, touch all the right spots exactly the way you like it. his cock would batter the shit out of your cervix if you wanted him to. he’d bend your legs so your ankles are by your ears and fuck all that frustration right out of you. slowly if you wanted it, but you’d probably want it hard and fast today. and deep. so deep inside you. he’d press down on your stomach and tell you how well you were taking it, and you’d cum like that, clenching around his cock, milking everything out of him to make yourself feel better and he’d let you because—

“–cumming, holy shit—eiji— baby fuck. i’m cummin—i’m—”

oh, and would you look at that, it's like his brain is conditioned to take your pleasure as his.

red riot came right in his pants.

oh well.

maybe next year.

DENKI KAMINARI !

he forgot?

fucking loser.

how, you ask? well basically:

you’d been out of town for a over a week. you ditched him right before halloween, you went to go see your friends for the 'hallow-weekend' as you’d called it. he didn’t really care about you going out, or clubbing, or wearing some slutty halloween costume, (you’d sent him enough photos and videos trust me;). more the fact that you’d left him behind.

and he couldn’t go anyway. he had a big project due which he actually had to complete because it was worth half of his grade. and him and sero had gone trick-or-treating in the dorm building anyway, and had taken edibles and then almost pissed themselves watching the conjuring.

and you weren’t supposed to be back for another two days, but you came home early! because you missed him! he almost cried real tears when you had turned up unexpectedly at a kickback at mina’s place.

he was sprawled out on mina’s couch next to sero (the bitchless loser), lamenting about some game that wouldn’t download on his laptop because he didn’t have enough storage even though he literally paid for more storage, when he had felt hands creep up round the back of his neck and shoulders.

and obviously he doesn’t let other women touch him, not when he’s so totally obsessed with you, so in true denki fashion he had leaped off the couch, almost stumbled onto the floor and shrieked “I’M TAKEN, I'M TAKEN, DON'T TOUCH ME.”

until he realised it was you.

and you. fuck you looked so fucking good. he always thinks that to be fair, but also you did looking fucking good. and you smile at him like you know how fucking good you look.

and he jumped for joy (metaphorically to be clear) because you came back early because, you missed him.

and you guys ditched the function because, he missed you.

and you made out, right outside his front door while he was fumbling with the keys because, you both missed each other.

and you barely managed to make it inside before he was stripping your clothes off. with your tongue dancing against his, and then his hands griping your sides like you were trying to leave again and this time he wasn’t going to let you.

possessive, and needy, and so, so, fucking, desperate.

with the way he panted against your neck and begged you to take his cock out, and he’s already bright red and leaking. and bucking into your touch and you're giggling, and it’s making his brain turn to static.

next thing you know, denki is begging. and he begs so sweetly, he pleads into your ear, tells you he’s gonna make you feel so good. he bites the junction of your neck and slips his fingers into your soaked panties. and he’s twitching, and panting, and you’re still in the fucking doorway, oh my god.

but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t give two shits, he barely registers the sound of you slamming the front door closed as you hiss out his name, because of the blood rushing in his ears and the blood rushing to his cock and the need to be inside you right fucking now, please. and you make an offhanded comment about what month it is, and he doesn’t care? why the fuck are you talking about days of the week or whatever— what? he wants to fuck you right now, c’mon just let him have it, let him fill up you and scratch at his back while he’s doing so. fuck, he wants to taste every inch of you and never let go, and please, take his clothes off, take your clothes off, or just take his cock out properly at least? or don’t.

either way denki fails not even four days in.

HANTA SERO !

HE BLAMES YOU?!!

i’m not joking.

he said it was your fault and that the group chat should “take it up with my girl, i did nothing wrong”

and it went like this:

“—no what? what the fuck dude? nah you fuckin’ suck man, it’s not even funny—”

“hanta?”

“left, left, left side. i said LEFT– on my FUCKING LEFT— mother fucker. are you new to earth? like genuinely—”

“hanta.”

“guys i gotta- oh.”

hanta takes his headset off immediately. ok, maybe not immediately, but he takes it off as soon as he registers the sound of your voice.

he spins round in his little gamer chair and he whistles lowly when he sees you in the doorway.

“hey, trouble.”

he doesn’t have to get up because you make your way over to him, but his palms are already sweaty, because just the sight of you has his chest reeling.

“i missed you today.”

and he can’t help but smirk. like the cocky piece of shit that he is because, his girlfriend missed him. he wants to giggle but he doesn’t. but maybe he will, with the way you waltz yourself right up to him and perch yourself on his lap. he tries to be cool about it. the way his breath hitches when you rest your hands around him, one on his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck.

but he can’t resist taking a deep inhale of your scent, it makes his brain turn to mush and slide out of his ears. he’s pink in the face now, smirk replaced by a dopey grin as he basks in the warmth of your presence, the feeling of your fingers playing the hair on the nape of his neck.

you’re talking about something, but he’s not listening, guilty, all he can concentrate on is the stirring in his lower body. like the honeyed warmth of your tone is directly pumping the blood into his cock. his eyes flutter shut as you continue on like that. stroking his hair, drawing patterns on his chest, you can practically feel his heart rate pick up, and you can definitely feel his cock chubbing up in between your thighs.

you call out his name again, softly, it makes him crack an eye open and when he sees you smirking down at him knowingly he can’t help but lean up to kiss you on the mouth.

you smirk into the kiss, and lean back a touch, probably to make fun of him, but he doesn’t let you. instead his hands snake up, one grips the back of your head and forces you to kiss him deeper, harder, rougher. and you oblige. you nip at his lips with a smile and groan softly as he begins to kiss his way up your neck with his soft lips.

he barely registers how your left hand is no longer on his shoulder but instead further down, tracing the outline of his waistband and he let's out a whimper when you grab his cock through his sweats.

“why are you teasing me?” he pouts, lowly, his breath tickling your ear before he nibbles playfully on your earlobe. you grin in response before shoving your hand down his pants, and he’s already so fucking hard for you.

he’d let you do whatever you want with him right now, and you know it.

he’s borderline panting into your neck but you take your time thumbing along his hard weeping cock. his eyebrows scrunch and he bites his lip as he ruts into your palm.

you grip him tighter, like you mean it, and then tease your fingers around his head, and then...

kirishima’s hair has gotten long, crimson strands now falling past his broad shoulders. you’re laid bare and pliant beneath him, his body hovering over your thighs, spread wide with one large, calloused hand. his grip is firm, fingers pressing into soft flesh, squeezing just enough to pull a reaction from you.

every mark he’s left on your skin burns with an aching need. his head dips lower into your heat, soft, intricate kisses teasing your inner thighs like whispered love confessions.  sharp, fleeting bites follow, blooming into tender, tooth-marked impressions. your hands are buried in his velvet red locks, fingers scratching tenderly against his scalp. the soft wet sound of him sucking at the plush flesh of your thigh fills the room. your heart rattles violently against your chest, so rapid you swear it might give out.

the muscles along his back flex with each movement—sharp, defined lines shifting beneath your gaze. you remember countless nights tracing those same muscles, leaving scratches born from pure ecstasy, softer kisses scattered during gentler nights, devotion pressed into his skin under moonlight.

and the scar on his shoulder—you kiss it every night he comes home safe, back where he belongs, wrapped in your arms and your sheets.

he buries his face deeper between your thighs, red strands brushing and tickling your skin as they fall, wisping softly over your body.

a quiet irritation flickers across his expression when his hair slips forward again. he pulls back slightly, resting on his forearms as he tugs the black hair tie from his wrist. it snaps softly against his palm. you watch the subtle flex of his hand as he gathers his hair into a loose tie, a few strands escaping to fall across the scar at his brow.

then he lowers himself back down, breath warm against your slick heat. his pupils are blown wide with want and adoration, red-tinged irises darkened with need. his brows knit slightly in concentration—on you, on your pleasure. love is written across every feature of his face, paired with that sharp, charismatic grin.

your lips part at the sight of him. crimson strands frame his tan, scarred skin, loose pieces catching the light, his hair pulled back, his features softened—completely undone by you. your breath hitches at the realization, lungs filling with air as you sit there, watching him take you in just as you do him—both completely enamored with each other.

your hands lift to his face, cradling his jaw, thumbs brushing slow circles into warm skin. he leans into it instantly, melting beneath your touch.

“you’re so handsome… my gorgeous boy.”

color blooms across his face, deep red spreading down his neck. he drops his forehead lightly against your knee, breath spilling out in a rough, husky rasp that settles deep in your chest.

“you’re so beautiful, my sweet baby… sorry i had to stop for a second—”

his lips trail down your thighs again, slow and reverent as he continues,

“really gotta do something about this hair… was taking my attention away from my baby.”

his words melt into a grin as he presses a soft kiss against your pussy, following it with teasing kitten licks to your clit. his lips close around your sensitive, swollen bud, sucking gently, and it pulls a sharp mewl from your throat as you cry out—your hips lifting to meet his face, chasing the feeling as you grind your heat against him. he holds you there, steady, as your body moves against his mouth and he coats himself in your arousal, burying himself deeper into you.

⊹₊ masterlist - kofi - emergency comms

eijiro makes his girl tea when she's on her period and gets her every single thing she asks for. sweets? done. pads or tampons? tell him what size, he's stocking up. massage, heating pad, him spooning you. girl, name anything bc he's getting it for your bedridden ass.

he's also eating you out and rubbing your clit in merciless circles before rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds and slit, then slowly pushing in while telling you that he's manly, he doesn't gaf abt the blood.