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Sero spots you immediately as you walk into the apartment. It’s obvious that neither you nor the friend who’s dragging you in here are even remotely close to being old enough, but at least your friend tries to act like she is – unlike you, a nervous lamb, small and insecure. Sero can’t help his mouth curling into a sly smile when he notices that you’re wearing Ashido’s old clothes, too.
The rim of his cup stays close to his lips, nursing the cheap soju as his eyes follow you move around the room, meeting the people your friend introduces you to. You’re stunted, awkward and overly polite for a simple house party, but most people seem to find you endearing.
Sero does, too.
It’s pure coincidence that you’re sneaking into a college party while he’s here; he mostly came for a friend’s little brother’s sake, who wanted to show off that he actually knew a Pro Hero. He’d planned to dip out just around the time he heard your voice in the hallway, then waited to see if it was actually you.
You light up when you see him, insecurity washing off with a bright, exciting smile. Your friend startles both at the change in your demeanor but clearly also from the surprise of who you’re gawking; she’s about to scold you for being obvious when Sero moves in for a hug, voice dripping with charm, “Baby sis, hi sweetie.”
You melt in his arms, nosing quickly at the softness of his hoodie before pulling away again, “Sero-san! What are you doing here?”
Sero leans against the counter, greeting your friend simply; she’s still starstruck that he’s standing there talking to you so casually, looking between the two of you like you’re aliens. He pouts when he looks back at you, “Sero? After last time, I’m disappointed you aren’t calling me Hanta.”
You immediately look to the floor, thighs rubbing together, lip worried between your teeth, “I’m sorry, Hanta-san.”
He laughs, taking a sip from his cup to enjoy your squirming for just a moment more, “Hanta’s fine, Baby sis.”
“So, Hanta!” your friend exclaims, leaning her arms on you for a moment, “can you keep an eye on her real quick? I have to say hi to someone.”
Sero raises a brow; he thought she was introducing you to people because she was your friend, but it seems she might’ve been stuck with you more or less against her own interest – he doesn’t sense much chemistry between you, either.
He nods, “sure. I’ll take care of her tonight.”
She bows before she dips off, and you exhale slowly. Sero hands you the rest of the soju bottle he’s been guarding, “here, a drink.”
Your eyes widen slightly, but you accept the bottle for a second, “A-ah, uhm, thank you. I don’t really like the taste of alcohol, though.”
You try to hand it back to him and he laughs, licking his teeth before he clinks his cup with your bottle, “then soju’s perfect. It tastes like juice.”
As you take a sip, he asks the question that’s burning in his stomach, “does your brother know you’re here?”
You spit out and start coughing, but it’s not because of the taste. Sero chuckles, leaning further into your space, wiping your chin with his sleeve and for a moment holds it there, lingering, “rebelling, are we?”
You pout despite how it excites you to have him touch you, brows knitted together, “Onii-san doesn’t need to know everything I do.”
Sero whistles, “so we are rebelling. Okay. That’s okay, I dig that. Did you fight?”
You groan, throwing your head back in frustration before you take several big gulps from the bottle in your hands. Sero inhales slowly, silently, as he watches your throat move up and down. “He tries to control everything I do,” you groan with a big exhale.
Yeah, he bets. Sero knows that Shinsou isn’t merely trying; he’s succeeding, pretty much. You’ve been in school for several months now but you always run straight home, avoid clubs and spend most of your time being fucked by your family.
He goes for a sympathetic exhale and a hand to your arm, squeezing lightly, “that bad, eh? Well, going to a party once in a while shouldn’t hurt.”
You nod, leaning into his touch slightly, “mhm, exactly! Kairi said the same thing! So that’s why she brought me! Though it is…” you scratch your upper arm after Sero retracts his own, curling in on yourself, “…a little intimidating. I was really happy to see you here, though.”
Sero coos, “aaww, me too,” he leans back into your space for a second, close enough to feel the heat of your body, reaching out with a hand “go, have some fun. Experience your first party. I’ll be keeping an eye on you, I promise.”
You giggle at him but turn in the direction he pushes you in. Then he winks at you before you’re completely with your back to him, “you look amazing, by the way.”
Sero keeps his social interactions to a minimum, but you’re in his peripheral all the time, making sure that people are treating you well, as well as watching how plastered you’re slowly but steadily getting. You end up in conversation with a young man from the college of the host, and he seems overly eager to impress you.
Luckily for the stranger, you’re not hard to impress.
Sero watches as you lean forward laughing, putting a hand on the man’s thigh. You’re drunk, swaying in your seat, flirting innocently without it being your actual intent, but the guy you’ve been talking with for over an hour seems to definitely enjoy the attention.
The guy’s nasty. Nostrils flaring whenever your cropped shirt rides up, staring openly at your chest every time you drink from your newly acquired cup. When you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, handing the stranger your cup to hold while you’re gone, Sero’s suspicions are confirmed.
He watches as the young blond looks around to make sure no one is watching before he fumbles with his pockets and pours a white powder into your cup; Sero watches as he swirls the cup around, making sure whatever’s in there is mixed well.
He smiles to himself like a job well done but immediately whimpers when Sero shows up out of nowhere and grabs onto his arm roughly, “hey buddy,” he drawls in an eerily friendly voice, knowing his grip will bruise. He looks around the room calmly. Most people are talking or dancing, not focused on their interaction at all.
“Y’know, I was invited here to show off that Kaiba knew a Pro Hero…”
He looks back to the stranger, eyes asking if he knows what that means before he shakes his head in disappointment at him, “and it’s no good; what you just did, that is.”
Sero almost wants to laugh; the man looks absolutely terrified. Shit himself levels of fear. Sero leans in a little closer with a sneer before he snatches up your cup with his other hand, “I’ll let it go if you piss off now. Promise me you won’t do it again, yeah?”
He looks down before he sniffs at the cup; it’s left no smell nor any obvious color changes. He wonders what’s mixed in there. The guy nods desperately, whole body shaking. Sero’s eyes travels to him from the cup, smiling proudly, “good.”
Sero lets go of him and watches him pat his pockets before he hurries to leave. Sero calls after him threateningly, “I never forget a face.”
The man turns to face him again before he bows not once, not twice but three times. He runs into multiple people on his way out, stealing terrified glances back at the lanky figure with eyes locked to his in the middle of the living room.
Sero sighs. What a creep.
When you come back, Sero’s waiting for you in the stranger’s exact spot. You look around, confused but giggling a little before you ask, “what happened to Senshu?”
Sero looks apologetic with a grimace before he hands you back your drink, “he had to leave, sadly. ‘Told me he was sorry though.”
You take a sip as Sero pats the seat next to him. You land more on Sero than on the actual couch, but he simply reels you close, nosing at your nape, “oh?”
You squirm, giggling and settling on top of him, now that he hasn’t pushed you away. You sit atop of him skewered, playing with the necklace he’s wearing with your free hand. He observes you, waiting for you to drink more from your cup, holding his breath.
Silence falls over you for a moment, and Sero starts rubbing at your thigh, “is partying fun?”
You hum, tilting your head as you think of your answer. It’s overwhelming; people seem a little overbearing with you, but then other people like Senshu were really interested in you. The music’s loud, the room hot. You can’t find Kairi anywhere, and you don’t remember if you ever planned how to get home from here; you think you remember the way to the station, but were you supposed to sleep at her place? Or was it the other way around?
“That bad, huh?” Sero asks when you don’t answer, and you shake your head and take another sip of your drink. The fizz has gone out a little from whatever concoction that Senshu gave you, so you shiver when you swallow; there’s still a little over half left. “Not bad, just… not what I expected.”
Sero nods and lets his hand travel from your thigh up your back, squeezing at the nape of your neck, “want me to call your brother?”
You gasp, pulling away from him, “no!”
Sero laughs, keeping you close despite your efforts. With his other hand he pushes at your cup, “drink up, then.”
His lap is warm; safe. He listens and responds eagerly as you talk about anything and everything, the subjects random now that you’re tipsy. You relax more and more in his grip as you finish emptying your cup. Despite a Pro Hero sitting on the couch of this party, here to boast popularity with other college students, not many pay you any attention. Sero isn’t surprised; he’s still climbing the ranks, usually wearing his helmet and obscuring his face.
“Y’know…” you drawl, slurring a little more as you swing to the side, “you s..saved me,”- a hiccup, -”once. You’re my favorite hero.”
Immediately after confessing the final word you giggle and hide in Sero’s collar, almost spilling your drink in your embarrassment, flustered and breathless.
Sero wraps his arms around you and coos, “yeah? Little old me?”
He can’t remember saving you, but his dick twitches in interest. He squashes any guilt with the thought of your pussy wrapped around him.
You nod, nuzzling your cheek into his neck. You drag your fingers over his hoodie, and you almost whine. You’re not sure why, but the tips of your fingers feel really good. Like when your brother kisses your inner thigh, or when your father’s fingers circle your clit. You can’t stop dragging your fingertips over the hoodie, wondering about the material, entranced. There’s another hiccup from you before you hum, “mhm, you’re the best one.”
He noses at your hair before he raises his cup to cheer with you, “I am very proud to be above your precious Onii-san. Cheers.”
You let out a relaxed sigh, fingers reaching his neck instead, whining at the skin-to-skin touch.
“Don’t say it like that, Hata – Han? Hanta.” You can’t stop the laughing fit that comes from accidentally mispronouncing his name. You cough a little, too much spit in your mouth. Have you been drooling? Sero kisses your forehead before he raises his hands to your cup and makes you drink the entire contents by tipping it over your mouth, “drink up, yeah Princess?”
Despite trying to protest against him weakly with flailing arms, you swallow everything he pours like a good girl, only spilling the tiniest of drops on your top. Your chest feels warm, your pulse quickening at the hungry look in his eyes as he watches you drink.
You feel weird, like your head is inside of a glass bowl. The party has quieted down somehow, but there’s just as much music and people as before. You just can’t really hear them. As you try to look around, your eyes can’t help but focus and unfocus, faces disappearing in the dim light, movement off.
You turn to Sero with your lip between your teeth, your voice quivering, like you’re bordering on a moan, “Hanta… I feel weird…”
Sero squeezes your hip and you arch your back; his warm hands feel so nice, your body craving the pressure, the touch. Your desperation doesn’t usually feel this intense. Sero’s scent is filling up your nostrils, and all you want to do is drown in it.
But it’s not right; Onii-san’s not here. You whimper again, squirming in Sero’s lap, “can you take me home? Or… Or call Onii-san. It’s… weird.”
It’s burning. Throbbing. Tickling. Itching. You feel foggy and cloudy, like you’re weightless, but at the same time your body feels so heavy, every point of your body pressed against Sero’s feels boiling, “would you call… would you call…?” you slur, wondering why your neck feels wet.
Then Sero’s hair tickles your jaw and you realize that he’s licking up your throat and you swallow thickly and whine, leaning into his touch. Sero ghosts his lips over your jaw, “what’s wrong, Princess?”
You drag your hands over Sero’s hoodie. Where did your cup go? Did Sero take it? Your eyelashes flutter as you try to focus on the ceiling, gathering your words, licking your teeth. Your hands feel so heavy, “Onii-san… can he pick me up?”
Sero feigns worry as he grabs your jaw and forces you to face him, pretending that he’s equally confused; “Baby Sis, let me take you upstairs for a moment.”
Your head falls, letting out nonsensical words and sounds as Sero moves his hands around you. They’re so big; you swear that he squeezes your ass as he lifts you bridal style. You start licking at his neck, the cotton of his collar drying out your tongue whenever you accidentally hit it, but you can’t really move your head, it’s too heavy.
With the blink of your eyes you’re on a bed; now the music is actually muffled, away from you. The light is low, the sheets soft; but they’re noisy. Every time you move you can hear rustling. There’s a weight above you. Warmth exudes in waves with a heavy breathing and you close your eyes again, fumbling for the phone in your pocket.
It’s not there.
Sero start kissing your neck again, his scent filling your nostrils. You pull at him weakly, moaning at the touch, legs unruly beneath you. “Please…” you whimper, trying to explain that he needs to call Onii-san. He can touch you afterwards; he can even touch you with Onii-san, but something feels off. You don’t want him to call Papa, that’d be scary. Onii-san will only be scary if Sero keeps touching you; he hasn’t approved. He doesn’t know that your hero is touching you, and you don’t want to make him angry.
Sero laughs, and it makes you clench around nothing. It sounds so good, like your favorite melody. When he kisses you directly on your mouth you push back uncoordinated, kissing him harshly and desperately, spreading your legs and pulling at him. Even though his lips are a little chapped, they’re so soft, slotting against yours perfectly. You let out a sob, “Hanta… can you, can you call him? I think… can you call?” you slur, unsure why your words aren’t coming out right; why are they so hard to get out suddenly?
Your mouth doesn’t move like you imagine it should, but Sero lets out a short sigh, “’tried calling him, Princess, he didn’t pick up.”
When did he call? You let your hands travel through his hair; it’s so soft, so comfortable. It’s silkier than your brother’s, less thick and coarse than your father’s. When you scratch his scalp and he moans, your clit throbs so painfully, you might’ve cum a little. It all feels hazy, so you’re not sure. But you want to hear the sound again, so you pull. He grinds down against you and you arch your back, “Onii-san,” you whine and stretch your neck, submitting.
He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, lets his fingers drag softly over the expanse of your collar, your neck, “Princess, it’s Hanta. I’m helping you, remember?”
Helping with what? You whine and wrap your legs around his hips, “we can’t do anything… without Onii-san. He’ll get angry.” You let out a shaky sob, the fear rising in you from the made-up scenario of him finding out; he’d punish you in all the ways you dislike. Your head’s frazzled, jumping around, losing seconds, minutes, touches. Imagining that you’re in Shinsou’s bed, ignored, alone, empty.
Sero kisses you, and it feels like he’s giving air right to your lungs. It’s so comforting, it feels just right. His hand still rests on your neck, the weight a heavy reminder, “how about we just don’t tell him, hm? We’ll keep it as our secret.”
You shake your head, trashing clumsily in his grip but then he presses his fingers directly against your clit through your clothes and a whine turns into a loud moan. Your thighs clench and spasm and he sighs at the view, “c’mon Princess, I haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy for weeks; I’ve missed you so much.”
His hand lets itself explore underneath your denim shorts; they’re so short that his deft fingers can reach and touch you directly. He groans approvingly when he feels the wetness, “you’ve thought of me too, haven’t you?” when you don’t reply, head elsewhere, he squeezes your clit between two fingers, “haven’t you?”
Your hands grab onto the sheets, back arching as you sob out a yes. You don’t know why you’re so sensitive, why you’re cumming from so little, but Sero’s hands are doing God’s work right now, and you think it might be okay that your brother doesn’t know. He’ll understand. If you just explain that, he won’t be angry at you.
Right?
Sero swipes his tongue over your lips and when you lift your head to chase him, he smiles at you, “Baby, your precious Onii-san can’t get angry if he doesn’t know.”
Were you talking out loud? You didn’t think you were, but you nod, tears lining your lash line, “he’ll knoooow,” you whine, spreading your legs for Sero despite your verbal protesting.
Sero curses, “he does pussy inspections or something? Relax baby, think of how good this feels instead, yeah? Listen to how much your body wants me.”
Your cunt is squelching as Sero pushes his fingers in and out; the tight hole is pliant, soft, desperate to be filled. You keep having these small orgasms, pupils so wide that Sero can’t even see the color of your eyes anymore. Whatever drug that guy Senshu gave you sure is making you sensitive. He supposes you being trained to be a true slut for cock only amplifies the situation. You zone in and out of awareness, squirming and moving restlessly as Sero prepares your body for himself.
You realize that your shirt is off when you look down and see Sero’s big hand splayed over your chest. You whimper, rutting your hips against his hand in desperation; his fingers are so long, so thick, but they’re not cock. They don’t reach the place you want him the most, the empty, cold place inside of you that you need filled. You’re sobbing, a hand over your stomach, “’m so empty,” you wail, clenching around his fingers when he chuckles at you, going faster inside of you.
“Yeah? So you want me? Not your brother?”
You push your head to the side in a pout, the makeup that Kairi put on you smudging onto the noisy, white sheets. You want Sero so bad; the picture he sent you from that day of his cock against your pussy enough to make you squirm, pulse, drip.
But you don’t want to choose between anyone. And now that he mentions your brother, guilt creeps up your spine, your ribs, encasing your collarbone and rising with your artery around your throat, choking you from the inside.
Your voice is hoarse, raspy as you try to speak despite the tar, “on’t tease me Hanta, please.”
You hope it’s enough. When Sero doesn’t react, move, fill you, you start to beg, whine, cry. You can’t see anything, can’t feel anything at all but empty.
Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please.
Then, you’re stretched open by fat, veiny, cock. It kisses your cervix immediately, bullying itself inside of you at a quick, harsh pace.
You cum with a silent scream, mouth hanging open and back arching so high off the bed that your neck says a weird cracking sound that goes right to your ears. Sero’s helping you stay up with his big hands on your hips, heavy balls slapping against your ass with every thrust inside of you.
You cry hard immediately, sob so much and wail that your entire face is soaked, nose running and mouth drooling, hiccupping, fat tears distorting your mascara and eyeliner, coloring your face in contrasts that only makes Sero’s cock harder.
He curses, moans with you, and takes a thumb to your face to wipe at your tears, “I’m here, I’m here,” he reassures you, making sure that every time he bottoms out, it’s hard and sure, so you know exactly which cock is filling you up.
You lean into his touch with a moan before you let your mouth find his thumb and start sucking on it, like a baby to a pacifier. He moans at the childish display in front of him while your pretty little cunt is swallowing him, wet and warm, massaging him, trying to squeeze everything out of him.
“Greedy, little fuckhole.”
He punctuates every word with a thrust, enjoying the way your eyes roll to the back of your head as you throw your head back at the same time. You’ve basically been cumming around him ever since he fucked himself inside of your perfect little pussy, forced himself inside of your willing hole.
You nod in his grip, thanking him for filling you up. He lets out a gloating laugh, leaning down to lick at your face, “you loving this cock?”
You both push and pull at him, your motor skills and coordination completely lost to you, bodily autonomy completely fucked out of your brain. The thumb in your mouth starts tracing over your teeth, accidentally scratching at your gums here and there, feeling you tighten around him with a whine, before he pushes down your throat, triggering your gag reflex.
You spit and sputter, legs kicking to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling but Sero pushes further before he spits inside of you. You moan as you cum around him again, the amount of orgasms entirely too much for you to handle at such a short and intense rate.
“’ve missed your pussy so much Princess, you wrap around me so perfectly.” He moans breathlessly, using your body to chase his own pleasure. You sob as you look into his eyes, unable to speak.
You look perfect.
Your shirt isn’t off, but it’s ripped so that your chest is exposed, spaghetti straps dangling by your shoulders. With every thrust, your perfect baby tits bounce, wet with his spit from earlier. The shorts you were wearing are somewhere on the floor; tights ripped at the crotch so that he could fill you with dick; a perfect fuckdoll just for him to enjoy.
He doesn’t want to admit it, but for a split second when he pushed into you, he imagined his own little sister, a year younger than you, and a shudder ran through him, twitching and spurting out precum.
Your arms flail around the bed as you’re fucked back and forth, dripping wet, soaking the sheets. He’s licking and biting at your neck, praising you breathlessly, drinking up your moans, whimpers and nonsensical babbling.
“Fuck baby, your pussy’s wrapping around me so good.”
“I fuck you so much better than your brother, don’t I? the way you tighten around me tells me everything.”
“Did you just cum, hm? What a good girl, sucking me in so well.”
“Still your favorite hero? Yeah? You want my cum?”
You cum again when Sero reminds you of how he saved you, how he’ll keep saving you. Promises to fill you whenever you need it, you just have to say the word.
You look ethereal in the dim light of the room. He’s not even sure whose bed he’s fucking you in, just picked the first room he found with a bed when he carried you upstairs. He stops his thrusting for a moment, cock nestled in your folds as he leans to the side to pick up his pants, strewn over the edge of the bed.
Without unlocking the screen, he opens the camera and points it at your face, cheek squished against the sheets. You’re not entirely here again, eyes unfocused, mouth babbling nonsense, pussy clenching and pulsing around his still dick.
He wanted to take just a picture; just a little trophy to remember this by, one that would pair well with the other one, but then you move only your eyes and look directly into the camera, pupils blown wide and completely unfocused and then you start giggling, moving your hips to get Sero to move, to suck him in, entrance him, keep him.
With a gulp, he starts recording instead, flash on so that it’s clear exactly how bleary your eyes are, face moving up and down, smearing the sheets with foundation as he slowly starts to fuck into you again. “C’mon Princess, gimme a show.”
You whine and pout at his slow pace, making a kissy mouth at the camera, “Hanta, need to feel you here,” you move your hands to your tummy, the pudgy fat smearing between your fingers as you make a circle with your hands, camera catching it perfectly.
“Want me to go harder?” he asks, voice shakier than he’d like it to be, abiding your request nonetheless, watching as you open your mouth and let out a high-pitched moan.
You nod, desperately, again and again and again, a broken record of yes’s and thank you’s as your pussy sucks him in, tries to drain him, “fill me up Hanta, need you to fill me up, fill me up.”
He’s filming your face now, blinding you with the flash but all you do is giggle and stick out your tongue, moaning and drooling for him like a good girl. While fucking into you, he laughs, “you really want my cum? You sure?”
Every time he fucks into you hard, he stays there for a moment, before dragging his cock out and repeating the rough motion, “what’s your brother gonna say to that, hm? Letting other men fill you with milk.”
You whine, repeating Onii-san a few times, hands clenching and unclenching above your head. “Hanta,” you say, looking into the camera, eyes completely soulless and empty, but still moaning.
He nods, stilling his movements. You sigh, moving your hands around the sheets. Sero can’t stop looking, following your movements with his eyes. It’s the only fluid movement he’s seen from you all evening, like ink flowing in water, a dancer confident on a stage. Then you reach out for his arms, grabbing onto his wrists gently, “can I… can I ask yo’ sumth..eng?”
You’re slurring, unable to hold your head still. Sero’s still filming, completely entranced by your suddenly calm display. Your heavy, uneven breathing is the only indication that you’re still affected by all of this. He nods as he licks his lips before he realizes that you’re not looking at him, but through him.
“Anything, baby.”
You let go of his wrists, arms falling to your ribs with a thunk, before you drag them over your chest, whining when you drag your palms over your sensitive nipples. Sero’s balls aches when you splay out your fingers before you wrap them around your neck; it’s a gentle hold, but you still make a little gaspy sound at the sensation, mouth hanging open.
Sero swallows thickly, as if your hands were on his throat and not your own. You clench around him, cunt throbbing in desperation still, no orgasms enough to sate the inexplicable hunger inside of you. You should’ve tired out by now, passed out, in your brother’s bed, your father’s arms around you.
You shiver as you slowly open your mouth, whispering, “what does this mean?”
Sero moans and lowers the camera to look at you directly instead of through the screen, “choking?” he chokes out, ironically enough, watch as you tighten your grip ever so slightly and nod, “does it feel good?”
He lets out a breathless snort, brows furrowing in confusion, cock twitching in avid interest.
“Some people think it does… why?”
He readjusts his grip on the phone so that he’s only holding it with his left hand, the other falling to your ribs, taking the same journey up your torso, applying the same pressure on your chest, your collarbone, his one hand encasing both of your small ones.
“You want it?”
He sounds out of breath, ragged, throat scratchy and hoarse. You lick your lips as you keep his gaze locked to yours, slowly, painfully slowly wrapping your legs around his hips again. After a moment of adjustment, you slowly let your own hands fall, instead letting his own touch your neck directly instead.
He sucks in a breath as you nod, “’saw Papa do it to Onii-san. But none of them wanna do it on me,” you whine, swallowing so thickly that he feels the saliva pass your throat. His hips twitches, desperate to move.
But he’s transfixed, wholly in your spell. For a split second it feels like you’re the one who drugged him.
“He looked like it felt so gooooood, Hanta,” you whimper, now unable to stop your hips from moving, “wanna feel good, too. You gonna let me feel good like Onii-san?”
Sero swallows, tongue heavy and thick, like it’s swollen. How can he deny you?
You smile, like you know you’ve won, before you reach out for the phone in his other hand, “use both hands, Hanta. like Papa does.”
He groans, long and loud before he starts thrusting into you, letting you control the camera as he slowly starts tightening his grip around your throat. On the screen he can see how you’re filming your face up close, capturing the glistening drool of your mouth as you stick out your tongue, gagging and moaning and spitting against the pressure that Sero’s putting on your throat.
But you don’t drop the camera to stop him or kick at him. No, you clench around him harder than anything he’s tried with you, cumming and milking him for all he’s worth.
He wants to talk; he’s good at it. At smooth-talking, at charming people, but right now he’s unable to find any meaningful words. He might’ve drugged you, but you’re the one fucking him.
He moans in genuine surprise and gasps when his hips stutters and he cums unexpectedly, ropes of milk shooting into your willing cervix, filling up your womb, giving you the thing that you always desire to be full of.
You drop the camera onto your own face when Sero lets go, and he can’t stop laughing breathlessly as he falls on top of you, pathetically still rutting into you in weak thrusts, soaking in the sounds of your breathing. The phone slides further down onto the bed somewhere and he takes a moment to just feel the ache of the strain, the wetness between you, the emptiness of his lungs.
You wrap your arms around him before you whimper his name, again and again and again. Then, your hands move to his elbows and he tries not flinch despite himself; he’s used to them being a thing of disgust.
You pout, “you didn’t use your tape this time.”
Oh, he wanted to. So badly. But using his tape would leave a sticky residue and red skin on you that would immediately give him away to your brother and father; and they would fucking kill him. He shudders.
“Can you use them next time, Hanta?”
He drops his head with a laugh, “I’ll only use them when Onii-san says it’s okay. But this time he didn’t know, remember?”
His hand traces your throat gently before traveling to your chin, your cheek, “remember that this was a secret.”
You sigh, “he’ll know.”
Sero kisses your jaw sweetly, “he will, but he won’t know it was me if you don’t tell him, yeah? Remember, if you tell him, you’ll never see me again.”
You look at him now, eyes heavy and droopy, “should I say it was someone else?”
Sero hums, “mhm, someone you didn’t know. He won’t be angry with you, I promise.”
Your mouth turns into a thin line, “how do you know?”
Sero smiles, “I’ll tell him not to be.”
He didn’t even try calling Shinsou when he said he did earlier; planned to fuck you first, and then inform him that he found you here, defenseless and alone. That he didn’t know who the guy was, or when it happened. That he just happened by you.
He’s keenly aware that neither brother nor father will dare look into this, won’t be able to without exposing their own sins, their own illegal activities.
Now he’ll just pray that you know how to keep a secret. He wraps you in his hoodie and calls your brother.
Weeks pass and Sero assumes nothing came of it; Aizawa hasn’t showed up to beat the shit out of him, and Shinsou acts normal around him. All proof that’s left is the video he has, that he weekly pulls up to fuck his hand to. But he refrains from messaging you about any of it, despite how he wants to.
At home, you seem to have completely rewritten the experience in your mind. You were so drugged, your memory so fuzzy, so messy, that it must be you misremembering and changing the uncomfortable bits to fit your own narrative.
You’re obsessed with Sero’s hoodie, the softness, the warmth wrapped around you. It’s like a comforting blanket for you, reminding you that he saved you from some uncomfortable man at the party you weren’t supposed to be at; that he chased away the strange man forcing you into bed, and then made you feel good instead. He told you that happened, right? Your brother tries to speak little of the experience with you, but they too praise Sero for being there to save you, albeit your father seems to begrudgingly accept the fact.
You’re just grateful that Sero’s always there to save you.