One morning eight months ago, you gave birth during a thunderstorm, and your world, for a moment, stopped at Ryota Bakugo's first cry. You looked at him for a long time, searching for yourself in his face as if in a mirror of barely rippling water: you were there, but only in filigree. Seventy percent his father, in the sharp lines of his gaze and the stubborn turn of his mouth; thirty percent yours, in the dimple that appeared when he hinted at a smile and in the way he clenched his fingers.
With Mirio, your relationship had become deeper, more genuine, as if everything you entrusted to him returned to you, softened by his warmth. He helped you with everything: colic-filled nights, baths, the never-ending laundry... And when you said you could do it, that teaching paid a decent wage, he barely shook his head, like someone who'd already decided to shoulder the burden. He accepted the double shifts without complaint, with the ease of someone who wants to take care of what he loves: you, and that child he adored more than anything in the world, even though he wasn't his.
Katsuki kept the agreement: the weekend arrived and he took Ryota away, punctual, and every now and then you noticed his eye falling on your swollen breasts, on your happy face, while his eyes got lost in yours, magically. Then Mirio would take you by the hand and call you back inside, telling you, in front of him, to go get ready because he was taking you out: a short trip just to go and watch the sea crash against the cliffs, or a two-day getaway abroad, or simply sushi at your favorite place, where by now you had also become friends with the cook. He wouldn't let you pay for anything. "Leave it to me," he always said, and those four words contained everything: a roof, a blanket, a port.
That day, in fact, was a Saturday. Ryota had already been at his father's house for a while, and you and Mirio decided to go somewhere, when he finally opted for shopping. You laughed every time he suggested it, because you knew full well how it would end every time you went with him. It always ended with you waiting for him outside the clothing store, sitting on a bench playing on your phone, while he stressed out the sales assistant so much that she was getting nervous. Then he'd come over and complain about how nervous and touchy the girls had become lately.
You'd just finished eating an ice cream when your eyes fell on a very beautiful dress, displayed in the window of a nearby boutique. It was short, black, strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and a slightly sheer skirt, perfect for an evening gown.
Mirio almost dragged you inside, and you had no choice but to ask the sales assistant your size and try it on. You entered your dressing room, as happy as a little girl unwrapping her Christmas present, when you noticed the softness and perfect texture of the fabric. You looked at yourself in the full-length mirror. The lights in the dressing room accentuated the curves of your body, wrapped in that little black dress, so tight it hugged your hips before opening up in a light, transparent flight over your thighs. The low-cut top left little to the imagination, and seeing yourself so beautiful and happy in the mirror, with the fabric clinging to your large breasts, you felt your nipples harden with excitement, barely visible through the thin fabric like two dark dots.
You tiptoed outside, wearing your high heels. Mirio was on his cell phone, but when he looked up at you, he froze. His eyes were riveted on you, while you jumped with joy, saying you loved the dress and wanted it at all costs.
He didn't speak, but you immediately knew from his gaze what he thought of the dress.
You went back into the dressing room to put your clothes back on, but you hadn't heard the curtain move. Mirio had entered behind you, silently, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. His deep, wide, almost electric blue eyes immediately fell on you again, devouring you with their gaze. The dress made you look like a dark goddess, a forbidden temptation amidst all that sterile luxury. Classical music filtered through the speakers; you heard a slow waltz that seemed to mock the tension crackling in the air. He was still wearing his jeans, slightly ripped at the thighs, his tight white T-shirt that showed off his abs, but the bulge in his pants betrayed how little he cared, at that moment, for elegance.
You saw him in the mirror. You didn't turn around. You didn't need to. You felt his warm, heavy gaze slide down your back, remain fixed on your firm ass, propped up by your trial high heels, then move up to rest on the nape of your neck, where a few strands of brown hair had escaped from your updo. Mirio's lips parted, as if to say something, but no sound came out. He simply took a step forward. Then another.
When his hands rested on your shoulders, you closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the contact. His fingers were warm, almost burning. Slowly, they slid down your arms, wrapping themselves around your wrists, pulling you back against him. His body was hot, the heat penetrating through the fabric of his dress, while his labored breathing tickled your ear.
"A goddess…you are a goddess…" Mirio whispered, as if the words were struggling. His lips brushed your earlobe, then your neck, where the skin was most sensitive. You moaned softly, your knees starting to shake. It wasn't just the dress that was the culprit. It wasn't just the place. It was him. The way he made you feel every time: desired, possessed, on the verge of losing all control.
Mirio's hands moved up under the fabric this time, his fingers curling around your bare breasts. You arched your back, pushing against his touch, your nipples hardening even more under his expert caresses. He pinched them, not too hard, but enough to make you let out a shaky sigh.
"Mirio… fuck me…" you murmured, almost begging him.
"Shh…" he reminded you, his mouth against your cheek. "Someone might hear us."
You opened your eyes, meeting your gaze in the mirror. Your pupils were dilated, your lips slightly parted, you were sexy as hell. You knew there was another customer in the dressing room next door, a woman trying on a wedding dress, accompanied by her mother. You could hear their muffled voices through the thin wall, as they laughed and commented on the hem, the veil. The thought of being discovered, of being heard, made your belly contract in an even more intense wave of excitement.
Mirio sensed it. He felt it in every tremor of your body, in every labored breath. His hands moved down again, this time undoing the side zipper of your dress with quick, precise movements. The fabric opened, sliding down your shoulders, leaving you exposed from the waist up. You did nothing to stop him. You didn't want to stop him.
The dress fell to your feet, leaving you braless, only in a thong that hid nothing. Mirio rolled his eyes, smiling, and let out a guttural sound, almost a growl, as his hands gripped your hips tightly and his fingers dug into your soft flesh.
"Holy shit…" His lips nibbled at her shoulders. "I…I can't resist you."
You turned slowly, your eyes challenging him. Your hands went straight to his belt, undoing it with confident, expert movements. You removed his shirt with a decisive movement, your fingers trembling slightly, as he regarded you with a gaze filled with adoration and love.
When you reached the belt buckle, Mirio didn't wait any longer. He grabbed your wrists, pushing you back against the mirror. The cold surface against your bare back made you shiver, but he covered you immediately, his body pressing against you, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. His tongue was everywhere, dominating, and you surrendered, opening your mouth for him, moaning into his breath as your tongues intertwined.
Mirio's hands moved down again, this time squeezing your breasts tightly. They bounced free, your nipples hard as rocks. He leaned down, capturing one nipple between his lips, sucking hard while the fingers of his other hand closed around the other, twisting just enough to make you let out a whispered moan.
"Mirio, please…" you begged. "I can't…I can't stay quiet if you keep this up."
He looked up, his blue eyes shining with mischief. "Then you'd better get you down on your knees, right?"
You looked at him with a super excited look. You let yourself slide down, your knees landing on the soft carpet of the dressing room, and your hands were already working on freeing him. Mirio's belt fell with a clink, his pants slipping just enough to free his enormous erection. You pulled him out of his underwear sideways, his cock popping out.
You licked him immediately, silently.
Your tongue came out, sensual, and traced paths from base to tip. Mirio moaned silently, pulling your hair back just enough to force you to look at him as you took him in your mouth.
And you did.
Your lips closed around the tip, massaging the sensitive slit as your cheeks hollowed, creating the perfect pressure. Mirio gasped, bringing his hands to his mouth, his legs shaking. "Fuck… I'm almost there already…"
You took him deeper, your lips sliding along the shaft and your throat opening to welcome him. You felt his cock throbbing more and more on your tongue, his heat filling your mouth, the flavor growing more intense.
"Go...go deeper...shit!..."
You pushed deeper, taking him all the way to the root. By now, you were becoming very good at deepthroating. You swallowed, your muscles contracting around him, massaging him from the inside. Mirio cursed, his hips moving in small circles, thrusting slightly, as if he couldn't decide whether to let you do it or lose control.
You felt him tremble. You felt him lose his rhythm, his hips starting to move faster, more insistently. Your hands closed around the base of his cock, squeezing, while your mouth worked the tip, your tongue tracing circles around the glans, and your lips tightened each time you moved up, creating a perfect vacuum.
"Oooh, shit!" Mirio said, but you didn't stop.
You took him again, all the way in, your throat wide open just for him. Your hands ended up on his balls, massaging them, pulling them down slightly, feeling how they hardened, how they prepared to unload their entire contents.
And then he exploded.
The first jet of cum filled your mouth. It felt warm and thick, its sweet taste filling your taste buds. You swallowed, your throat working to get every drop down, but Mirio wouldn't stop, he kept cumming, his cock throbbing nonstop, spewing cum like it would never end. You felt all the liquid drip down your chin, down your neck, staining that beautiful little dress still wrapped around your waist.
Mirio moaned silently, a long, broken whisper. His fingers were still on your head as he emptied himself inside you, his hips jerking, pushing deeper and deeper, as if he wanted to make sure you didn't lose a drop.
When he stopped, you slowly pulled away. A trail of cum still connected the tip to your lips, white strings falling down your chin. You licked it all off, gathering what remained, your eyes meeting Mirio's.
"You're not finished, though," he reminded you, smiling and panting. "You promised me more."
He grabbed your arms, hauling you to your feet with a sudden movement. Your dress slipped completely down, leaving you completely naked before him, except for your high heels that made your back arch in a perfect curve. He leaned down, kissing you roughly, his tongue forcefully insinuating itself into your mouth, until he turned you over.
You found yourself with your hands against the mirror. Mirio grabbed your hips. You were soaking wet, your arousal dripping down your thighs, wetting his fingers as he sank them inside you.
"Holy shit, you're a fucking hottie…" Mirio growled against your ear. "And all mine…"
You didn't respond. You were just moaning, because he'd briefly withdrawn his fingers, only to push them back in harder, deeper.
"Fuck me, Mirio. Until the shop closes…"
He couldn't wait any longer.
He positioned himself behind you, his cock hard and huge, as if he hadn't cum yet. It was still slick with his own seed and your saliva. He grabbed your hip with one hand, while the other covered your mouth, just as he penetrated you with a single, powerful thrust.
You cried out against his palm, your body arching even more to accommodate him. He was huge, you were tight. It was perfect. He filled you completely, his cock rubbing against every sensitive spot inside you, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine.
Mirio began to move.
His thrusts were deep, measured, each thrust making you moan with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. The hand covering your mouth shifted, now squeezing your throat just enough to make you gasp, heightening the feeling of domination, of possession.
"You will give me a son…" he whispered in your ear. "Oh yes, you will give me one…"
You nodded, or at least tried to, because his grip was limiting your movement. Your nails scratched the mirror, leaving marks that would last even afterward. You didn't care. You just wanted to see the way he was fucking you in the mirror, the way his cock filled you, rubbed you, drove you wild.
Mirio picked up the pace even more, his hips slamming against your ass with every thrust, the wet sound of your bodies colliding making you moan even more. You felt your orgasm approaching, a ball of fire in the center of your chest threatening to explode at any moment.
"Let's cum together…" Mirio said softly. "I want to cum inside you while you hold me…"
That was what made you collapse.
The orgasm overwhelmed you, long, strong, and unstoppable. Your inner walls contracted around Mirio's cock, squeezing it even tighter, massaging it, while a cry of pleasure escaped your lips. He didn't stop. In fact, it increased even more, until he reached his limit. With one final thrust, Mirio squirted inside you, his cock throbbing and emptying, filling you with his hot seed. You felt every jolt of his body, every spurt, as he whispered your name in your ear and embraced you completely.
You stayed like that for a long moment, all sweaty and sticky. Mirio pulled you closer, kissing your shoulder, smiling.
The sound of the dressing room door opening next door brought you back to reality.
You were startled, your eyes widening. Mirio placed one hand over your mouth, the other caressing your hip in a reassuring gesture. You heard the sales assistant ask the customer how the dress looked, and the woman's enthusiastic response. Too close, too close, damn it.
Mirio smiled against your skin, a mischievous smile that you felt more than you saw.
"We should stop... even though I don't want to..." He whispered, his cock still hard inside you. His fingers slid down between your legs, collecting the cum dripping from your pussy, then bringing it to your lips.
You looked at him, your beautiful blue eyes shining with silent challenge. "Or," you murmured, "we could make it… worth the risk."
Mirio laughed softly, that laugh of his that you loved so much. "I like it when you're so dirty."
You didn't answer. You didn't have time. Because at that moment, the dressing room door opened.