#and thinking about how the greens were pretty but the blues were too

[dira333]

The Soulmate Theory - Todoroki Shouto x Reader

I welcome you to my probably last-ever Soulmate fic. As much as I love reading this trope, it's gotten harder and harder to write. I hope you like it. This is for @shoulmate

Trope: You share your Soulmate's pain.

Soulmates used to be a thing. 

A long, long time ago, way before the first ever Quirk was documented, Soulmate bonds were just as common as Quirks are nowadays.

Your grandmother used to be fascinated by it, told you stories about her grandmother who was convinced she shared a soulmate bond even though not one case had been documented in the last hundred years before her.

It’s only natural, you’d say, that you didn’t realize you had one. After all, why would you think that?

-

Pain has always been part of your life.

Your wrists hurt and your legs hurt and your back hurts and your stomach hurts… all the time. The doctors cannot find anything, some even accuse you of pretending for attention. You’d gladly trade all that attention against a pain-free day.

Your Quirk’s Telekinesis and you’re so glad about it, because how else would you be able to move that pen and write that notes when your hands hurt like this?

You’re getting better at it too, threading a needle or picking up the last grain of rice with your thoughts alone. 

-

A dull ache has settled behind your left eye after what has been the most intense pain flare you’ve ever had. All you want to do is rest. 

But your mind is reeling, craving an outlet for all the thoughts inside your head.

Your restless eyes find some fabric in the corner of the room. Soon enough a few needles are working their magic, a creation coming to life before your eyes.

You might not be able to walk around most days, but at least you can still create outfits you’d love to flaunt in.

-

Years later

-

“Can you take over my student?” Kameko asks, “He wants a completely new costume.”

“What year?”

“First year. And his old one wasn’t even destroyed.”

“So? Maybe he found something out about himself.”

She huffs. “Please? I still have to finish Amajiki’s new design and you know how anxious he gets.”

“Yeah, no problem. Can you take another first year off my plate then? His name is Midoriya and he ripped it in half, it seems.”

“Oh yeah, give it to me.”

Someone clears their throat. You look up from your work into a set of heterochromatic eyes, one blue, one grey.

“Yes?” You ask. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here for my new Costume.”

“Are you Midoriya?” You point at the green fabric on your desk, or rather what’s left of the costume.”

“No, I’m Todoroki Shouto.”

“Ah,” Kameko doesn’t even look guilty at being caught. “You’re with her then. Do you need the think tank?” She points at the cubicle where you can go and plan outfits.

Todoroki looks like he isn’t quite sure, so you carefully slide off your chair and shuffle over.

“Come, come,” you wave at him, “It’s never wrong to brainstorm.”

“Are you hurt?” He asks and has the decency not to point at how you clearly favor your left leg. 

“Not more than usual,” you try to joke and though he looks a little confused, he doesn’t ask more questions.

.

Todoroki is a quiet individual. He’s not shy, that you perceive immediately, but he makes sure to check if he’s allowed to speak before he opens his mouth.

He’s also insanely pretty, the red, rough skin over his left eye giving him even more appeal. But he’s also one year younger than you, so you keep those thoughts locked away in the back of your head.

“If you want to change the design, we can do that, no problem.” You remind him when you’ve finally found something he seems almost happy with.

“I don’t want to cause you more work.”

“If you don’t cause me any work I’d have nothing to do,” you joke and he looks at you quietly for a while. You wonder if he’s ruminating over your joke or waiting for you to talk on and sadly, you’re more than likely to ramble in a confusing silence.

You gesture, somehow now talking about the importance of fresh orange juice for the human body, a topic you didn’t even know you could talk about beforehand when your hand connects harshly with the door behind you. Your wrist catches the doorknob and the pain is immediate, sharp and cool, like you’d imagine being stabbed with an icicle would feel like.

Todoroki hisses behind you and you’d compliment him on the empathy if it wouldn’t hurt like that.

When you turn, hand pressed against your chest, he’s cradling his own hand before dropping it. “Musclespasm,” he explains quietly, offering you a hand that is covered in ice. “Do you want me to cool it? It helps.”

-

“I’d like to add some more details to my costume,” Todoroki approaches you with a Bento Box in hand.

You nod, unable to speak for a moment as you focus your Quirk on a particularly tough seam.

“No problem, as I said. What’s it about?”

“Could we use the think tank?”

You turn to check but it’s clearly occupied.

“Sadly not. Is it more complicated then?” You nod at the Bento Box. “Do you think it will keep us occupied during lunch break?”

“No, this is…” Todoroki hesitates for a second before holding it out to you. “It’s just something I wanted to give you. My sister made these.”

 You open it with curious fingers to reveal twelve perfectly shaped cookies.

“That’s lovely, but why me?”

His cheeks turn pink and his lips curl into an adorable pout before he eventually talks.

“I mentioned that I was pleased with the changes and she told me to say thank you.”

“Aww,” you coo. “Your older sister then?”

“Yes,” the pout exaggerates, “I would have said thank you without her intervening.”

“Of course you’d have.” - “But my cookies didn’t turn out good.”

You both speak at the same time, or rather you accidentally interrupted him and he still talked on.

You stare at him now, mouth agape as you process his words.

“You made cookies for me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki nods, “I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

“I still want to say thank you.”

“Next time,” you joke, not quite realizing what you’re saying until it has left your lips and your brain has caught on, “just bring me the Cookies you made. It’s the thought that counts.”

He stares at you with wide eyes for what feels like eternity before a soft pink blush blooms on his cheeks.

You hide your own face in the box of Cookies, hope that he won’t hear the thunderous beating of your heart over the noise of you eating one.

They’re delicious. Of course they are.

-

You don’t know how or when or even why, but clearly, there’s a friendship growing between you and Todoroki Shouto. He’s stopped claiming he’s only dropping in for new additions to his costumes and in turn you’ve tried quite a few of his food creations, each one of them worse than the last.

But he’s cute and honest and real about it and you couldn’t do better if you tried anyway.

Your pain, however, doesn’t stop just because you’ve found work you enjoy or friends to spend your time with.

There are days where you cannot get out of bed. Days where strong painkillers allow you to get to school only for everything to go past you because those painkillers leave you loopy and tired, falling asleep over some costume in the early afternoon hours.

At least you’re not in the Hero Course, you think on the worst days, because you’ve seen the bruises Training leaves on Shouto’s arms and legs.

That’s before you realize that Training is the least of all his problems.

-

Third Year

“How are you?” You ask, because what else do you ask your Crush Slash Good Friend you haven’t seen in months?

Shouto’s got new scars, he’s grown, and he’s fought in a war while you were bedridden from pain, your mother scared out of her depths that you’d die in an attack, unable to move.

But you survived and so did he and if you can believe what you’ve heard on the news, he’s found out some things about his family too.

“Tired,” he admits, dragging a hand through his hair, “I missed you.”

You wonder how hard it was for him to admit that. 

 “Think tank?” You ask, slipping off your chair when he nods.

The last few days have been painless and even though you’re anxious about what’s to come after that, you can’t help but enjoy it.

When the door closes after him, you realize just how small that cubicle really is. 

Or maybe it’s just that Shouto doesn’t step away like he used to do, staying so close to you that you could count every single one of his long lashes if you wanted to.

“Can I hug you?” He asks and you nod, unable to say anything, even less when he pulls you in.

He’s tall and strong, cool on one side and warm on the other and your face nuzzles into his neck like it was meant to be like that anyway.

You don’t speak for a while, just hold each other in the semi-privacy this room provides.

“I want to take care of you,” Shouto whispers at some point. “Can I?”

Somehow it doesn’t surprise anyone that you two end up dating.

-

Your third year is almost painless.

Sure, there are frequent days where you’re sore for no reason whatsoever, but that is nothing against the blinding pain that had tied you to a bed for weeks before. 

Sometimes, Shouto pouts about that. He thinks it’s his job as your boyfriend to look after you and what good is he for if you don’t need looking after?

His friends tell you that he’s less reckless now - as if he’d ever been - making sure to keep himself safe because you need him.

You’ve met his sister, one of his older brothers and his mother, all of them nice, though maybe a bit distanced. 

Emotional vulnerability doesn’t seem to come easy to them.

Shouto, however, likes to talk about his feelings in depth. And he wants to know how you’re feeling too, listening with wide eyes as you explain.

Should it be weird that you’re dating someone younger than you? If so, you’re doing it wrong. 

-

The first(?) hint

“Do we need anything from the store?” You ask, phone crammed between your ear and shoulder as you grab your stuff from the passenger seat.

“I was going to get the groceries,” Shouto huffs on the other side of the call and you can see it, how he pouts at the thought that you’re doing it instead of him.

“I was already on my way. You can do the laundry.”

“I hate doing the laundry,” he groans and you giggle. “I know. I’m going to help you with it, don’t worry.”

“I could cook,” he offers and you giggle again, opening the door to step out. “As much as I love you, Shouto, I don’t love your cooking.”

“Fine,” he says, sounding exactly like a child that didn’t get its way, “But we do face-masks while doing the laundry.”

“Of course. I’ll call you back later, okay? I need both hands for shopping.”

“Sure. I’ll buy you more headphones in the meantime.”

There are a few more teasing remarks, a last “I love you” and then you shove your phone back in your purse and turn to where you think the shopping carts are located.

You don’t see the step in front of you before it’s too late and then you’re tumbling through the air. It happens slowly and then all at once and you’re not really sure what hurt first and what hurts the most. 

For a moment you’re just lying there, face down on the pavement, trying not to puke, collecting your thoughts as if they scattered on your floor just like your open purse.

Your phone starts ringing and that seems the most manageable task so you pick it up from right in front of you and press it against your ear.

“Yes?” You ask.

“Love, are you okay?” Shouto sounds worried.

“No, I just tripped and fell,” you pick your head up from the asphalt and squint at your stuff in front of you, “in the middle of the parking lot.”

“Just after you hung up I felt a lot of pain and I just… I knew it was you.” 

-

It keeps happening after that.

It doesn’t help that you’re clumsy, but maybe that’s for the best now, as you try and figure out this weird coincidence.

If you hurt yourself, Shouto feels the pain.

If Shouto hurts himself, you feel the pain. 

It’s only after he almost gets buried by a collapsing building that you actually tell a Doctor. Or rather Midoriya unloads all the Data he has collected on the poor, unassuming Recovery Girl.

The most likely answer, as strange as it might sound, is the Soulmate Theory.

“Since you’re the first documented case in hundreds of years we don’t have anything to prove this theory. But I’m quite positive that more cases will follow.”

You blink back at her, not quite understanding. Shouto’s left hand, one of the few places of his that are not covered in bandages, squeezes yours.

“You know what that means, right?” He asks.

“Yeah. We’re most definitely never going to break up.”

His eyes widen in a way you’ve grown familiar with. No matter how long you’ve been dating, you still seem to be able to surprise him.

“No,” he presses out weakly, “I meant… That all the pain you went through as a child and teenager, that was me. It’s my fault.”

You lean down to press a kiss to the little spot above his eyebrows that has come away unscathed.

“I’m not saying it was nice, but if I could take at least a little bit of the pain you went through, I’d say it was worth it.”

-

You’re pretty sure Shouto would disagree, but in your eyes Soulmates are not quite as fancy as they’re made out to be.

After all, you found him on your own, didn’t you?

[aenokiawrld]

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓮 ᯓᡣ𐭩

kiss below the line…

a/n: i hate him but at the same i ain’t mind letting him tap 😋 also using colored panels for now cause it’s cuter tee hee

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: p in v sex, oral sex, afab!reader, reader lowk a top here but sanji gets a tad bit of confidence towards the end, sanji know how to eat that kitty 🙏, reader a FREAK, call this man sanji freaksmoke ong 💀🙏, reader wears a bikini, no set arc, risky public sex, they fuck in a secluded area but still open to public, porn WITH plot

tags ✮⋆˙ smut, afab!reader x sanji, beach date, p in v bby, no set arc - no spoilers

now playing: dive - victoria monét

After a long strenuous journey of hopping from island to island, you suggested the crew stop at a tropical resort for a few days to rest and even gather supplies for the Sunny. Liberating islands from tyrannical rule and going against from oppressive government is tiring…Well guess what? It’s time the Strawhats get a well deserved break!

“Hmm, yea sure,” your rubber captain shrugged.

“Wow, you didn’t really think that through did ya, Luffy?”

“No, you’re right. After a long battle, I’m pretty beat plus…”

“Plus?”

“A seafood boil sounds nice,” he laughed as he rubbed his rumbling belly.

Robin chuckled at Luffy’s expression, “Well, since us devil fruit power users can’t swim in the water, I wouldn’t mind indulging in a nice seafood feast cooked by our skillful chef.”

You suddenly see the pervy chef’s nose start to heave heavily, a few drops of blood trickling down his chin, “OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR THE BEAUTIFUL LADIES OF OUR SHIP!”

His stance takes a 180 as he faces the men of the crew, “The men have to hunt for their own food.”

Zoro looks at him with annoyance, “Hey! Can I at least get some sake?!”

Luffy pouts, “No fair! I want to relax like the girls too!”

“Well, real men hunt for their own food!”

You sighed, “Sanji, relax, the guys worked hard at the last island. Cut ‘em some slack will ya?”

His demeanor changed as soon as you spoke, “OH MY DEAR, [NAME], YOU ARE SO RIGHT.”

“Alright, fine, since we’re going to have a seafood boil, I gotta gather some ingredients.”

“A spectacular feast created by our lovely cook, my mouth is watering just thinking about it, if I had any saliva…YOHOHOHO!”

“Then, it’s settled! Nami, set course for [insert cool island here]!”

“Right away, captain!” The beautiful tangerine-haired girl yelled back.

————

The summer sun shone upon the golden sand, the crystal blue water crashing upon the shore as the coconut trees swayed to the calming wind. The resort is occupied by many beach goers as children ran along the hot sand with beach balls, men clinked their beers, and ladies were served fancy mojitos. The smell of grilled meat lingered the air as barbecue parties took place nearby.

You reveled in the moment until hearing your captain’s booming voice destroy your peace of mind.

“WOOHOO!”

“LUFFY, DON’T GO IN THE WATER, YOU CAN’T-”

The rubber boy struggled to keep afloat in the water has he gargled for help, “HELP! HELP!”

“swim…” You facepalmed.

“I got it…” The green haired swordsman immediately dived into the water before rescuing your struggling captain.

“Captain, be more careful, will ya?”

He coughed up seawater, “Bleghhh, Zoro, I might throw up on you…”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

You decided to sit with the girls when the blonde cook approached all of you. He sported black swimtrunks, along with a half-opened tropical shirt while holding a tray full of orange cocktails, “Well, ladies, can I interest ya’ll in some ‘Sex on the Beach’ drinks to quench your thirst?”

The black-haired vixen smiled, “Thanks, Sanji. You really know how to read our minds.”

“Wow, these look refreshing, as expected from our cook!” Nami took a sip of the alcoholic drink.

“No kidding, I was starting to feel a bit parched myself,” you smiled.

Sanji covered his nose to prevent a nose bleed from coming out, “Ladies, Ladies, no need to thank me. Just doing my job.” He smiled to himself as he replayed the compliments in his head.

You looked at him with concern, “Hey, Sanji. How’s ingredient gathering going for ya?”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve been trying to catch some fish and crab for the last 30 minutes but I think the amount of people here are scaring them away.”

“Hmm, hey! I can help you look for a secluded spot for fishing!” You cheerfully suggested to him.

“Oh, I can’t let a lovely lady like you get up and help me out like this!”

You chuckled, “No worries, I’d rather walk around then sit down doing nothing.”

“Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have extra help.”

————

You sealed the bucket full of prawns before setting it aside and sitting down on the dampening sand, “Wow, we caught a lot today! We’re gonna be eating tonight, aren’t we?” You looked at the remaining gold rays of light slowly disappear in beyond the horizon.

He laughed at your amusement, “I should start cooking soon if we’re gonna serve this on time for the crew to start feasting.”

You attempted to carry the heavy bucket of freshly caught prawns, but it proved to be difficult with the sandy environment preventing better movement in your legs.

He noticed your struggle with the filled container, “Need any help?” He walked towards your sinking figure in the moist sand, lantern in hand to illuminate the darkened atmosphere.

“Ah, no, no! It’s ok!”

“Come on, [Name]. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No, really, I can manage-”

“I’ll just grab this part-”

“Sanji! It’s gonna-“

Splash

“…fall,” your once dried figures now soaked with sea water as both of you guys fell backwards into the incoming waves — his trembling body loomed over yours, salty droplets falling onto your face.

The sound of your increasing heart beat pounding in your ears from the closed distances between your bodies. Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his toned abs up close to your face, despite the evening darkness sweeping in to mask the dimming sunset.

You were embarrassed to admit it, but you always had a slight interest in the blonde cook. Sure, you were a little annoyed by his flirtatious attempts and his slightly pervy behavior — yet, in his times of seriousness that complimented his cool, stoic character, it was…quite attractive.

The amount of times you caught yourself staring at him as he cooked the crew’s meals with rolled-up sleeves, or chilling on the ship while lighting the butt of his cigarette. You had to resist the urge to bite your lip then and there.

But, seeing him on top of you while half naked and wet took the final slice of the cake.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry! I should’ve listened to you-” The blood rushed to his cheeks and ears to form an embarrassed blush before lifting himself off you.

“Hot damn….” You muttered to yourself.

“Uh…what?”

“Um- Uh, nothing,” you shot him a sheepish smile before lifting yourself up. “It’s all good, I should’ve just accepted your help,” you laugh awkwardly as you drag the fallen bucket.

“Ahem, that would’ve been awkward if anyone in the crew saw us,” he brushed his hand through his blonde locks before searching his pockets for his cigarette box.

You suddenly halt your process of dragging the prawn bucket, an invisible lightbulb lighting upon your head. You turn to the chef before smirking at him,“I wouldn’t mind giving them a show.”

You could practically see his eyes bulging out of his sockets at your flirtatious manner. Who knew the pervy cook would get nervous by one of the only girls in the Strawhats? You wanted to take advantage of this sudden burst of confidence…

You walked up to him, his face producing a red hue on his cheeks as he watched your figure close the proximity between you two. His heartbeat increased at the sight of your practically bikini-clad body swaying in the moonlight. He clutched the cigarette between his teeth…

You look up at his flustered face before stealing the lit cigarette from his lips, a seductive tone poisoned your words, “Can we stay here for a bit?”

The nervous cook gulped, “U-Uh um…why?”

He watched as you took a drag out of his own cigarette before putting it out — He never found anything so sexy in his life; not even when he saw a naked Nami back in Alabasta before.

You harshly pushed his toned figure onto the dry sand before noticing the now obvious bulge in his pants. You were quite pleased by the outcome of this situation as you watched the cook fall to his knees for you — he relished in the sight of you using him. It was kind of different from the way you seen him with other girls. Slowly, you hovered over his body; his eyes glued onto your bikini-covered chest as he felt his mouth become dry.

“I think you know the answer, Sanji…”

————

A needy moan escaped from the cook’s mouth as you caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongue ravaging with his as you grinded your clothed heat on his crotch. His body had become so turned-on from your sudden dominant nature, your touches like a tempting devil.

“[Name]…fuck,” his hands moved to your hips as you continued dry humping his erection.

You caught his lower lip between your teeth, “You’re so fucking sexy when you say my name like that, wanna scream it more for me?” You watched his body shutter as you exchanged the movement of your hips with your rubbing over his hardened bulge.

“A-ah shit, mon chérie, quit teasing me…”

You bit your lip as you continued your edge on his clothed cock, ignoring his pleas for your pussy. You relished in the sight of the blonde begging for your attention. You rubbed his erection in a faster pace, grabbing the outline of his size — he groaned at your intense touch.

A sly smirk creeped onto your face as you guided his hand under your skimpy bikini top, his hand instinctively squeezing the soft mound of flesh, brushing over your now hardened nipple. A soft moan left your mouth as you felt his rough hand roll the pearl between his fingers. You slapped his hand away with a smirk on your face.

You slowly shoved two fingers into his mouth, feeling the warmth of his tongue sucking and licking them, “Wanna show me what that mouth can do?”

You remove your bikini bottom, revealing the transparent slick trail of your arousal connecting from your pussy to the dampened cloth. You toss it to the side before hovering your crotch over his flustered face.

You harshly grabbed his face, “Make me cum and maybe I’ll give ya a reward.”

“…Yes, ma’am…”

You cautiously lowered your hips onto his face before you felt strong hands hastily grab your hips and slam you down. A yelp came out of you at the sudden pressure of your crotch rubbing on his face.

The warmness of his tongue desperately overlapping over your needy hole as you bit your lip to conceal the sounds of your impending pleasure. The sound of the crashing salt water colliding with the sand had become quieter as the sun died down and the moonlight became brighter.

The sound of sloppy wetness overtaking your hearing as he fucked his tongue inside you. You face twisting from the overbearing sensation of pleasure took over your body as you grinded your cunt further into his face, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, the smell of your arousal radiating off your warm body.

He lapped his tongue over your erected bud as sucked you off like a starved man. He groaned as he pulled your hips harder onto his face with need, his grip tightening around you. — He became obsessed with the taste of you and he was wanting more.

He slid his hands over the fleshy mounds of your ass before spreading them apart for better access. The speed of his tongue fastening had jolted the nerves of your body, your back arching from the overstimulation on your abused clit.

“S-Sanji! Oh god, keep going!” You cried out in pleasure. The moist sounds of his mouth connected with your saliva-coated cunt.

“Mmm’ Mon chérie, cum on my face,” he groaned as he swiped his tongue over your pulsating hole.

Your core tightened as you felt your approaching climax form into a pit in your stomach, “Then, you better savor it while you can, Blondie.”

He swore he could’ve felt his cock twitch in his swim trunks at the sound of his nickname slipping from your lips. God, the things you do to him…

You swayed your hips to the movement of his hungry tongue as the muscles of your increasingly tightening before you felt the imaginary coil unravel and relax. Your milky liquid leaking out your pulsating hole, smothering over the cook’s face.

He released the suction of mouth over your erected bud with the sound of a pop. His chin had been covered in his own saliva and your arousal. He huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. The taste of your cum lingered as on his lips as he licked them without shame.

“Good boy, I think it’s time I give you your reward,”you shifted your body off his face, the feeling of the cold grainy sand resting below your knees as you lowered your face over his crotch.

A surprised moan escaped the cook’s tainted lips as you pressed light kissed over his erection, the taste of ocean salt overtaking your taste buds. You could practically feel his wanting cock straining along the restraints of his wet as it ached for your touch.

You grabbed the hem of his trunks, peeling the fabric to reveal his touch-starved cock — it had a slight curve to it, the circumcised tip supporting a swollen redness as it leaked precum, his shaft with a few veins trailing down to his nicely-groomed happy trail of blonde hair surrounding it, his balls desperately awaiting to be emptied from all the edging you did to him.

“Nice cock, dude.”

“Haha, very funny, [Name],” he sarcastically rolled his eyes.

“I’m being serious, Sanji,” you swipe your index finger over the dripping slit of his tip.

A grunt escaped his lips as you flicked his sensitive cock in a teasing manner; Your hand running down his shaft before slowly fisting his cock in your hand. That fucking smug smirk painted on your face that drove him insane the entire time.

Your hand moved up and down faster as you watched his face twist from pleasure, his body jerking from the sudden jolts of electricity running in his body from your touch — You swiped your tongue over the flushed head, savoring the taste of the transparent liquid as you continued your pace on his shaft. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as you rubbed and squeezed his sensitive balls in the process; god, he was about to burst then and there.

He gripped the sand below him as you brought him to the edge of his orgasm, you enjoyed the amount of overstimulation you brought to his cute face as his curly brows scrunched together in pleasure. You bit your lip as you felt his cock twitch in your hand before-

“Sanjiiiii! [Name]! Where are you?? I’m hungry!!” You hear Luffy’s voice in the distance.

The cook looked back at you in horror, in fear that both of you guys were about to get caught by your captain. Luckily, you were out of sight from your rubber captain due to the steep rock wall that separated you and Sanji from him. You shot him a devious look as you continued your movement on his needy cock, “Gonna answer?”

Oh, fuck you.

“W-We’re still busy fishing so g-go away!” He yelled back with nervousness.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you engorged his cock into your mouth, the salty taste of his precum filling your taste buds as you slobbered over the tip and shaft.

“Well, hurry up already!!” the hurried tone of your captain’s voice echoing in the distance.

The cook groaned in annoyance, “SH- SHUT UP AND BE PATIENT OR ELSE ITS VEGETARIAN FROM NOW O-ON!!!”

“AGHH FINEEEE…”

A small snort escaped through your nose as you heard their short banter. Sanji was such a cutie patootie when he got mad at the crew you thought to yourself.

That’s probably why you enjoy seeing the cook moaned and whimpered as he submitted to your touch, wanting more of your attention from you. <3

He felt as if he could cum to the vibrations of your gagging alone as you struggled to swallow his cock whole, hitting the gag reflex that sat in the back of your throat. What didn’t help was when you caressed his swollen balls, squeezing them as if they were putty in your hands. They tensed at your touch as they added onto the ongoing stimulation on his messy cock.

He bit his lip while grabbing tufts of your hair as he felt the euphoric climax slowly creep towards his tip as you continued sucking him like a summertime popsicle.

Just when he was about to release his seed, you halted your action; releasing his cock with a pop as it bounced towards his abdomen. His cock twitched with impatience as it awaited more of your stimulation. The tip redder than before as it begged to release its seed.

He huffed, “Mon chérie…wha… what are you doing?”

You hovered over him before whispering in his ear, “I’m gonna ride you, that’s what i’m gonna do.” You bit his ear before aligning yourself over his cock.

You slammed on his cock, causing both of ya’ll to gasp in pleasure as you felt the gumminess of your walls swallow his size. He grabbed the fat of your ass as you bucked your hips up and down.

“Oh god! Oh yes!” You cried out as you felt him match his hip movements with yours.

Your pussy was practically a perfect mold for him as you sought to reach that euphoric feeling of edging to your arrival. You became obsessed with the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix as each thrust became deeper and rougher. You swore you saw a tear well up in his ducts as you watched his face become a moaning mess.

“Hah, oh fuck! K-Keep going at this speed, I might cum inside you…” He squeezed your ass harder as he kissed and sucked the skin on your collar bone.

“S-Sanji- hah!” You felt his lips lick the soft flesh of your chest as he moved his hands towards the underside of the fabric triangles, pushing them upwards to reveal the dark pearls of your cherries.

“Sanji!” You screamed his name as you felt the warm sensation of his tongue lap over your erected nipples. Now you’re the one being a victim to overstimulation.

He groaned as he made out with your right nipple while pinching your left one, the friction leaving you speechless as you were left in a moaning mess. He clenched your the soft mound as he felt your moist walls squeeze around his cock.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time, I couldn’t help but retaliate…” He left your right boob with purple marks around your now tender nipples. He shifted his attention towards your left boob as he sucked and bit your dark pearl, enough to send electricity towards your pussy.

“Mmm’ you taste so divine, Mon chérie…This is way better than some seafood boil.” He loved the way you clenched on his cock as he sucked your sensitive nipple.

No amount of crashing ocean waves nor the sound of seagulls squawking under the illuminated night sky could muffle out the sounds of sloppy slaps and moans of the heated moment you both shared. You cried out his name in hiccups as he continued the movement of his hips guiding his cock towards your cervix, increasing his speed.

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji…i’m gonna cum!” You were going dizzy at his hypnotizing movements.

“Fuck, me too…Can I cum on that pretty face of yours, Mon chérie?”

You nodded as you felt that familiar tightening feeling in your abdomen of your impending orgasm had . The thought of releasing on his cock was racing in your mind as you wanted to savor the sensation the next time you had the “urge.”

You gripped his shoulders as you arched your back to the ripping feeling of your toe-curling release, a cry for pleasure escaped your lips as you felt your abused walls clench around him. — thick, white…it poured from your used hole as it coated on his twitching member, waiting to come as well.

He groaned at the sight of his cock being covered in your slick, like a used sex toy. He fisted his cock, your cum serving as lubrication to relieve himself.

He chanted your name in mutters as he took in the sight of your fucked-out face, sporting a tomato red and a trail of saliva dripping down your chin as you huffed and puffed for air. His hand instinctively stroked faster as the aftermath of your face around him even more. He let out a groan as he felt the nerves in his shaft jolt as ropes of hot cum spurt from his reddened tip.

You smirked as you watched the white fluid land on your face along with your hickey-covered chest. You didn’t want to lie when you felt surprised by how much spilled out of him—embarrassing amount continued to drip onto the sand from his now sensitive cock.

You bit your lip, “Didn’t tell me you had that much in ya.”

His face became flushed, “It’s not my fault, I was pent up from how much you edged me today!”

“You’re really hot when you’re hard at work, I couldn’t help seeing you in such a submissive state,” you stuck your tongue at him.

His heart skipped a beat at your embarrassing words, “MY LOVE, I’LL LET YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY.”

And…he’s back to his usual self.

The chef’s ears perk up as he hears rustling from the nearby coconut trees. You noticed his reaction before your attention redirected towards the origin of the sound.

“What the hell, where am I?

The mosshead looked towards your direction as he noticed the two figures in the distance, immediately recognizing the both of you.

Both you and Sanjj’s mouth dropped open before you guys scrambled on the sandy floor, readjusting your swimsuits and jumping in the cold salty waters to wash off the evidence. In the back of your mind, you wanted to cry of embarrassment; the thrill of almost getting caught was exhilarating itself. However, getting caught a a different story.

“Go away, moss head! We’re trying to fish in peace over here!” The blonde cook yelled at the swordsman.

Zoro smirked, “You sure this is fishing, cause last time I checked, you’re supposed to have your clothes on.”

Both you and Sanji looked at each other with an embarrassed blush on your face before quickly diverting your faces knowing the opposite direction.

“Zoro, you can’t tell anyone…” You softly pleaded.

The swordsman yawned, “I don’t really care, I was tryna find curly brow since Luffy was getting antsy about the food.”

“Oh and I was wondering where you kept the sake.”

The cook facepalmed himself, “You fucking drunk…it’s in the wine cabinet now go away.”

The swordsman yawned again, “Wow, thanks I guess. I’ll let yall do your thing but hurry up cause the captain looks like he’s about to munch on our emergency food (chopper).”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get started once [Name] and I bring our shellfish catch back to the ship.”

You sighed in annoyance, “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the three of you walked back, the little devil on your shoulder caused you to land a nice smack on Sanji’s ass. He turned around with surprised look on his face while rubbing the impacted area. You shot a smug smirk at the cook before doing the “p in v” gesture with your fingers.

He smirked before giving you a wink. You quietly giggled before whispering in his ear, “Let’s do this again, but more private.

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Parties.

Pairing: Natasha X fem reader

Fluff :)

Warnings: none I think. Nat being jealous hehe

The start is written by @azaleavolkova so full credits to them!

Nats pov:

As per the end of a tough mission, a stark party was thrown. Probably one of the biggest yet, all paid for by Stark. I don't even think he monitors or has anyone to monitor who comes in. And that's why I'm here, I was invited as a plus one, to my beloved soon-to-be spouse. Yes, I'm engaged. And yes, I love them as much as my heart can. I mean, I'm constantly thinking about them.

Anyway, here I am, in the elevator at the Avengers Tower, in a black, long flowy dress, the straps of the dress wrapped delicately around my neck. Along with the dress, I have a cute little moonstone teardrop pendant with little tree branches on the sides on my neck, completing my outfit.

A ding rang throughout the elevator, the doors opening soon after. My eyes widen almost immediately after I saw how many people were here. I quickly regained my composure, walking through the doors confidently, looking around the room and seeing widen eyes, even some dropped jaws.

"Pick up your jaws, or else a fly will get it's way into it." As soon as I said that, a little fly flew its way into one of the guests' mouths, being spit out just as quickly as it went in.

I roll my eyes and walk through the crowds. Ignoring the stares and attention. My eyes searching for my fiancee. But unfortunately they aren't here yet. I silently curse and walk down to the bar.

Its been half an hour. I'm on the sidelines of the party mainly surveying the entry. But since my fiancee hasn't shown up yet I've decided to amuse the men that have conveniently surrounded me and offered drinks or a cigarette. Eventually I take one of the men up on their offer and take a glass of champagne from the man.

The guy himself isn't too bad looking. He has dark messy hair and brown eyes of the chocolate variety and if I wasn't engaged and in a happy relationship I would've given him a shot. But I found the love of my life and have no interest in the guy.

I chat amongst the men. My eyes lingering on the entrance. Though another blond man blocks my view leaving me slightly pissed. Now how am I meant to see my glorious fiancee when they walk in!?

It's been another half hour. I'm almost sick of the men. I'm holding my third glass of champagne and yet they still haven't shown up yet. I think atleast. That is until a group of men part slightly and I see her.

There standing in a teal dress that blends into navy blue is my fiancee y/n. And she looks gorgeous. Her hair styled into a braided crown. My eyes glued. I don't even remember the fact I'm surrounded by men until one speaks up about how he'd take my woman. I am now very tempted to rip his head off. But y/n would be disappointed if I ruined this night to I refrain till later.

"hold my drink boys. I'm going in."

I smirk as I hand one of the men my glass. His mouth opening slightly. I fix my red hair and step away from the group, ignoring the shocked stares from the men who thought they had a chance. I walk over to the greatest woman in my life and I kiss the back of her hand.

"glad you could join us darling."

I mumble against her skin as I pull y/n close. I've missed her. But I do get a giggle from the love of my life.

"Tasha it seems you have a shocked fan club behind you."

Y/n smiles. I roll my eyes. I could care less for the mob I just left. Instead focusing on y/n.

"let's not discuss them."

I ask as I step away from y/n pulling in her hand. She has pearl bracelets on. They look almost as pretty as she does. Y/n smiles back.

"you seem jealous."

Y/n grins. I look less amused.

"one was being unprofessional when describing a relation he wished to have with you."

I speak low. Jealousy flashing through my eyes. I know it does because y/n laughs.

"don't worry Tasha I only have eyes for you."

The affirmative voice calms down the green monster inside me. I pull y/n into a kiss she easily reciprocates. I want to hold onto the moment forever.

A/n: This is a work that was started by @azaleavolkova and full credits to her. The rest of the fic is my own original work however. The first four paragraphs were written by @azaleavolkova.

[zushigirl]

In honor of Come What May…a three part story of how I wish things would turn out… Enjoy! I’ll be posting the full story on AO3 as we go :)

I Take My Coffee Black: Part I

Now…Metro General

“What the hell is this crap?”

Frank practically spits the hot liquid back into the flimsy white paper cup.

“Get off your high horse. It’s Folger’s Instant. Same stuff we used to drink in the desert.”

Curtis takes a sip of his own coffee, studying Frank under the brim of his USMC baseball cap. Curt’s blood shot eyes are a dead giveaway that he – like most of New York – have been up all night. Watching with bated breath as Daredevil and a host of superheroes take on Fisk’s minions.

With a sigh, Frank takes another sip of his coffee. “Goddamn - ”

He hisses slightly, the cut on his lip stinging. Curt had done his best to patch up both Frank and Red after the firefight with Bullseye. Makeup covered most of Frank’s bruises, but it couldn’t conceal the worry in his eyes. He can tell by the way his former medic keeps glancing at him… then at the door across the way.

“This is the best Metro General can afford?” he growls, trying to distract himself.

“At 0500? Yes, it is.”

Frank frowns, looking down the stark pale green hallway. Men and women in blue scrubs walk by at a leisurely pace. Unaffected. Unaware that the bravest, ballsiest woman on the planet is in critical care. Recovering from a gunshot wound.

Mourning the loss of her best friend.

“Foggy!”

He can still hear her scream the Counselor’s name. He can feel her panic, panic he never wanted her to feel. David’s feed made it sound like they were two feet away… instead, it took twenty minutes to get to the bloodbath. Even with Lieberman driving like a maniac.

Goddamnit, we should have gotten there sooner.

His eyes trace the entrance of the recovery room. One of those flimsy blue hospital curtains blocks a small window above the door handle. An added layer of privacy. Damn thing feels more suffocating than any red line.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Curt assures him. “They patched up the exit wound and the broken rib. That maniac may be an expert marksman, but she beat him at his own game.” He pauses before adding, “Karen Page must be a pretty special woman…to make you choose here instead of another war.”

You could choose…you could just choose…

Ocean eyes flicker in his memory. Why hadn’t he told her the truth that day, when he was the one in the hospital bed? He thought leaving her was the right thing. He thought…

Frank stares blankly into the distance as he takes another sip of bland coffee and tries not to think about what could have happened.

Thank god Karen clipped Bullseye’s right hand. The fucker was in custody now. Good thing too. If that psychopath ever made it out of prison…none of Red’s preaching would keep Frank from unleashing hell on Benjamin Poindexter.

Red…

The warble of Channel Five news can be heard from the TV at one of the nursing stations. A flicker of worry rises in Frank’s belly. He wants to be pissed at Red but at the same time…

“You were right Frank. I was just one bad day away. Please don’t let her’s get any worse.”

He can’t shake the hollow sound in Matt Murdock’s voice off of him. Can’t shake the image of the other man standing there in blood. His best friend’s blood. Karen’s blood.

Fuck.

“Mr. Castiglione?”

He turns. A new nurse has come on shift, name tag reads Temple. Her dark brown eyes hover on his cut lip. He gets the impression she takes no bullshit.

“Yes ma’am?”

The nurse sighs, pursuing her lips.

“Karen’s going to be okay.”

She says the name with a warm familiarity. Frank immediately wonders how much this woman knows.

“Blood pressure and heat rate are stable. No signs of any complications from surgery.” Temple hesitates… “Your wife’s a fighter for sure.”

Frank doesn’t meet Curt’s gaze, just prays the other man’s eyes aren’t bursting out of their sockets. There hadn’t had time to brief him on the plan. He was just thankful David was quick to pull some strings. A fake marriage license and a passport may be their only ticket to safety.

The woman pauses, eyes narrowing in the silence.

“I know I haven’t been back in town that long, but I’m kinda miffed no one invited me to the wedding. Thought I would have heard about from Matt or Fog…”

She catches herself, sadness flashing across her face.

“Fuck…I’m sorry.”

“No – uh – he’d…he would have wanted all of Karen’s friends to know.” Frank feels his throat tightening. “He loved her too. Probably better than me or… Re…or Matt … if I’m being honest.”

He remembers the look of stricken panic on the Counselor’s face all those years ago. When he’d asked Karen to stay. What would the man’s reaction be to what he asks now?

An older nurse approaches, waving his clipboard at Temple. “She’s up,” he gestures towards Karen’s room. “Threatened to pull out her IV if I don’t get her a real cup of coffee. Told her it’s water only for the next twelve hours. She wasn’t happy.”

Frank chuckles despite himself. “Atta’ girl,” he murmurs.

“Are you coming, Mr. Castiglione?”

The way Temple sizes him up conveys that she trusts him even if she doesn’t believe his story.

He feels his pulse jump. They’d seen each other in the midst of the fight but they hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t spoken since that horrible day when she walked out of his hospital room barefoot. What could he say to her? How could he possibly ask her to –

“She’s waiting, Frank.” Curt’s voice is one of gentle reassurance.

He takes a deep breath, turns on his heels, the stops. “Curt… go home. You’ve done enough. I’ll stand the watch.”

His friend frowns. “You sure man?” I don’t mind staying.”

Frank pauses before answering, a memory flickering in his mind’s eye. Karen and Nelson, sitting at the hipster coffee shop across from their law firm. Sipping coffee and going over case notes. He’d watched from the roof two streets over, not proud to admit the number of times he’d checked on Karen from afar.

“Proof Coffee opens at 0800. Can you come back tomorrow morning with a real damn cup? Make that two. She takes hers black with a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

The nurse seems impressed that he knows Karen’s drink of choice. Curt has enough ware with all to keep a neutral face.

“I’m on it. I’ll let Lieberman know your staying here. See you in 27 hours.”

He spins on his heels and walks down the hall.

Frank watches him go, then follows nurse Temple across the waiting area. She opens the door to the recovery room, pushing back that damn blue curtain quietly. Then she gestures for Frank to step in front of her.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the vitals monitor is a steady hum. It’s oddly comforting.

And terrifying.

It means Karen is awake. It means he’s about to speak to her for the first time in… far too long.

He finds the courage to look forward and he sees her. Sitting upright in the bed. Face turned to the window. The sunrise casting her in a celestial glow. Her expression is a haunted one Frank knows all too well…but not the shock of someone who’s new to trauma.

He realizes in that moment that his gut instinct was right. Karen’s felt this kind of pain before.

“Karen, your husband is here.” Temple’s voice is gentle.

A quiet feels the air. Time stops. In the void, Frank wonders if his heartbeat is loud enough for Red to hear all the way across Manhattan.

He watches Karen turn her head. Watches her eyes widen in confusion at the word husband. Then recognition. Then something he’s too scared to name.

They’re both silent for a moment, not noticing as the nurse slips out. Then tears are welling in Karen’s eyes and Frank is falling to his knees by her hospital bed.

“Hey, hey,” he chokes out. “I lied. I lied. Okay? That day…Karen…”

Soft fingers grab his trembling ones. He places his free palm over hers, holding with two hands now.

“I know you lied, you asshole,” Karen says between sobs. “You’re such an asshole…but I…” Her ocean eyes are bright with the words they won’t say yet.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, I am.”

“Please tell me you brought real coffee.”

The sound of footsteps silences Frank’s answer.

*

27 hours later…

“I’ll take three drip coffees,” Curtis Hoyle smiles at the barista, waiting for a response.

The bleary-eyed girl with wild auburn tinted hair and a cut-off t-shirt reading MJ just blinks at him.

“Cool. You want room for milk or cream?”

“No…uh…actually, can you sprinkle some cinnamon in one of them.”

The girl gives a half nod as Curtis swipes his card. He sighs, stepping to the side of the cheerful yellow counter. He knows he’s getting old, but whoever Proof Coffee’s manager is could have done a better job with hiring. MJ has the bedside manner of cardboard; not great for 0800 on a Thursday –

Piiinnnggg!

The girl passes three paper cups to Curt, hurriedly grabbing her phone from its charging station. He takes a few sips of his cup, watching her agitated movements.

“Peter! Jesus Christ! Is everyone okay…”

Her hazel eyes widen in relief and Curtis feels guilty for judging her. MJ’s been worried.

“News. Alright. I’ll take a look. Be careful.”

The call’s barely over before the teen is swiping on her phone. Curtis takes a final swig of his own coffee while grabbing to-go lids, trying to look casual.

“Everything good? You seem a little stressed.”

MJ bobs her head, flipping her phone in Curtis’s face. Apple News.

“Shit,” Curtis mutters as he reads the screen.

He turns to leave, then thinks twice. Grabs the two coffees. He may need them as an excuse to sneak back into the hospital.

“Thank you, Miss!”

He leaves MJ staring at her phone. At the headline…

FRANK CASTLE, THE PUNISHER, REPORTEDLY SEEN AT METRO GENERAL.

[theangelyouknew]

So, I want to talk about my weird experience with Harry Potter. Why it’s specifically weird for me to think about the franchise these days.

I’ll start out with JK Rowling is transphobic trash. Get that out of the way.

Ever since these damn books came out, I’ve never been allowed to really experience these books in my own way. Not entirely. Yes, they shaped my teens, but not in the way I think a lot of people see it.

My grandma got me the books against my will for Christmas. I had zero interest in them. My other grandparents were visiting that summer (the summer between 8th and 9th grade) and my stepmom, who wanted to read the books herself? Got mad that I still hadn’t read them. She said she couldn’t read them until I did because they were mine. So I was grounded until I read them.

Again. My other grandparents were visiting from out of state. I was grounded until I read these books. There were 3 of them at the time. I read them as fast as I could. I think it took me like 3 days. I concentrated so hard despite my ADHD that I made myself sick from lack of eating. Cuz I wanted to see my grandparents. Thankfully the books held my interest or it would have been pure torture.

That’s one direction I was pulled into.

That fall, I, who had no friends, was invited to go to a school mate’s church. I had been going for a month or so when they told me Harry Potter is evil. I had to get rid of the books.

I asked my stepmom if I could get rid of the books church didn’t like. When she asked what books, I said “Harry Potter.” She flipped the fuck out. Said if I got rid of them I wouldn’t be allowed to go to church ever again. I had to compromise and put my books in a box under my bed and just not touch them if I really didn’t want to read them.

That’s another direction I was pulled in regards to Harry Potter.

So I have these books in my room making me feel guilty at church. The movie comes out. I have to go see it with the family. The entire time, I’m praying god won’t send me to hell cuz I still got the church in my ear telling me how bad Harry Potter is. My parents get the movie when it’s on idk if it was dvd yet or still vhs honestly by that time, but I remember sitting in the living room to “rewatch” it and just staring out the window bc I can’t enjoy it. Thanks god.

I spent years with her vs the church in my head. Both were wrong. But ultimately the church kicked me out when I turned 18, and I lived with her so it was easy to enjoy it. Besides; i was a huge alan rickman fan so, hell yeah Snape.

So this franchise was shoved down my throat and simultaneously vilified during some of my most life altering years of my life.

I don’t remember what my favorite color was BEFORE Harry Potter. But I can tell you now, it’s green. But if you look at everything I do, i instinctively gravitate towards blues. Blue car. Blue bike. Blue hair (ok that changes often), blue WEDDING DRESS, but if you ask me I always say green. For slytherin. But is green my favorite color? I don’t know. Most people around me assumes it’s blue.

If I had never been forced to read Harry Potter, would I have cared about it? Turned it into part of my personality? Honestly I doubt it. I mean I might have watched the movies eventually, but I wouldn’t have gotten so attached. Cuz it wouldn’t have mattered.

If I hadn’t I’d the church trying to pry it away from me would i feel the way do now? Probably not. It’d just be another book series. I might not have had my stepmom freak out and force it harder down my throat. Idk.

Both these scenarios were WRONG and extreme. And frustrating to think about now. And because JK is trash, with harmful world views, I’m being told once again how to feel about the books and world this garbage queen wrote.

And it wouldn’t be so hard to let go a book series if it wasn’t put on such weird pedestals in my life to begin with. It’s just a book series. It’s not a fucking life style. The story itself not a moral right or wrong. (The author is, don’t give her money fuck her) but at the end of the day the books themselves are dime a dozen at thrift shops and shit.

Also if you have kids and they don’t want to read a book, don’t force it. Holy hell.

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

A cosmic lightning bolt.

Yeah, if your ears operate she can give anyone a headache.

[churipu]

OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.

note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.

"'toru, do you think i look—"

gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.

"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."

gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.

the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.

his comment made you break a small smile.

"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.

"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.

a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"

the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.

nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.

"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).

but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."

groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."

nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.

"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."

he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."

you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"

"pepper spray."

"check."

"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."

"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.

"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"y/n, do you — oh, wow."

yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.

you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"

yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"

shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"

he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.

"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"

yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.

mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."

he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.

all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.

"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.

"any movies?"

you nod, "any movies."

"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[spectorgram]

the letter

theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k

You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall. 

You’re immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. “Blood hell, mate,” Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theo’s leg lightly. 

You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, “Can someone pass the eggs and bacon?”

As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theo’s eyes zero in on your legs. “How are you not cold?”

You frown. “I am,” you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, “but Pansy’s demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.”

Pansy sighs, “I’ve ordered you new ones, calm down.” 

Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is — all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. He’s been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer you’ve known him, the more you’ve fallen for him. 

It’s a tale as old as the world itself: you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.

“Mail’s here,” you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky that’s about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients. 

“Maybe your new tights are here,” Enzo says. 

Pansy adds, “I hope so. Then you’ll stop complaining about it.”

You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parents’ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap. 

“Who’s that from?” asks Pansy. 

You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: “For the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.”

You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, “What’s it say?”

Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. “‘Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.’” he reads.

“What?” Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line. 

“You doing okay there, Nott?” Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesn’t say anything, the letter’s paper crinkling under his grip. 

Pansy asks, “Are you going to go?”

You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that he’s gazing at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. “I think so,” you say. “I’m interested to see who it is.”

“Be sure to bring your wand,” Draco says. “Just in case.”

“Obviously,” you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up. 

You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theo’s silent for the whole conversation. 

You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up — it’s not a secret that Slytherin isn’t the most popular House among your classmates — but you know you can handle yourself. You’re more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didn’t say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.

You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower. 

You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. “Cacophony,” you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.

The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. You’re about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. “Sorry, Theo,” you say. “Didn’t see you there. Where are you going at this hour?”

“I was going to find you,” he replies. 

“Oh,” you say. “Well, here I am. Sorry, I’ve got to drop this stuff off and then—”

“Head to the Astronomy Tower,” he finishes for you, “to meet your ‘secret admirer.’” 

You don’t like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. You’re about to respond when he says, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t go,” he repeats.

“Why not?”

He pauses before saying, “What if it’s someone just having a laugh?”

You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. “Is it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?”

Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he can’t believe that you’re saying something so outrageous, “No, it’s not.”

“Then why shouldn’t I go?”

“Because I don’t want you to!”

“For Salazar’s sake, Theo, you can’t tell me what to do!”

“I know that!”

“Then are you trying to tell me not to go?”

“Because I bloody like you!”

Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly can’t meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. “How long?’ you ask softly, holding your breath.

“Since first year.”

You blink. “Really?”

He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Mattheo’s right; you’re so oblivious.” There’s another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, “How do you feel?”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “I like you too, Theo. I’ve liked you since first year as well.”

He echoes your “Really?” and it makes you giggle, “I guess we’re both oblivious.”

He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak. 

Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.

[monzamash]

smile you're on camera — lando norris

when miami hits different... lando norris x you (femreader) | 1.8k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) masterlist

“That all looked sufficiently cringe.”

Lando’s gruff laugh echoes as he slid the balcony door open for you. You had been watching him for the past half hour filming promotional content for the Miami GP, each one cheesier than the last and you couldn’t help but admire his work ethic – even if it meant watching him make a complete fool of himself in the blistering heat.

A grumbled “you’ve got no idea” paired with a deep sigh in reply was all you were going to get and a sweet kiss pressed to the back of your head.

He helped you collect the book you’d abandoned in lieu of watching him glow in the golden hour and retreat inside from the humidity, still suffocating as the sun set off in the distance. The sweet relief of the air con as you stepped inside provided a little bit of respite while Lando shuffled around the room, closing windows and doors, trapping what cool air you did have inside your hotel room.

“I have something to show you…”

Lando sheepishly declares as you splay out on the hotel bed, grumbling through a jaw splitting yawn, “What is it?” “I stole it.” That got your attention, shooting up from where you were laying down, “But I’ll take it back tomorrow… after we’ve used it.”

Sitting in his hot little hands was a camcorder that had seen better days, scratches on its lens and all. Lando watched your shocked expression fall to one of annoyance as you sat back on your hands, eyebrow quirked and scowl present on your pretty face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Aw come on,” He drawls, holding the camera up to his eye – the other squinted behind the viewfinder, “I swapped in one of my SD cards and I know you’re into this kinky shit. Admit it…”

Lando kept the camera up, the little red light that was on all of those old school recorders flashed in the dark. Your eyes were rolling when his grabby reached out for your hip, “You’re out of your mind.”

“That’s the effect you have on me, baby.”

A soft hum slips from your lips feeling the pads of his fingers tracing down the outside of your thigh, too easily convinced by the man who consumed your every thought; every desire. You missed him when he was gone, the days spent with him slimmer as the season lulled on. So, maybe having something to reference on those cold, lonely nights was excuse enough to indulge the idea. And he was right – you are into this shit.

“Just make sure you can’t see too much,” You whisper into the air, giving the green light.

Lando’s little noise tells you everything. He's excited about this; you can tell by the way he nips and presses a couple of sloppy kisses to your cheek before scurrying off to set up the camera. He was a giggly mess thinking about how fucking lucky he was to be with someone who was up for anything. Equal parts classy and devious – just the way he likes it.

“Hop up on the bed so I can frame you,” He sweetly instructs, eyes trained on the small screen lighting his dark features, ocean eyes a moody blue.

You do as you’re told and crawl up onto the comically large bed, propped up on one elbow with hair a mess. Lando smiles when he shifts focus onto you – the sheer white dress you were wearing flaunting everything he loved about your body. All curves and supple skin, pebbled nipples peaking through – the silverware you had secretly added to them as a surprise for him peaking through under the fabric.

“You are so fucking pretty,” He almost whimpers; a warm flush washing over your sticky skin. It was hot in the room you were in and the way Lando was eyeing you from behind the camera was searing.

“Can you take the dress off for me?” his voice was a lower octave than before, eyes still watching your shadowed body moving across the messy bed.

“Not sure how to make this look sexy but…” You huff, carelessly tearing the thin material over your head and throwing it to the side, “your wish is my command.”

Lando chuckles quietly and strides over to you, no longer able to keep his hands off what was his. He hopes there’s enough space on his card for what he was about to do to you – because in reality, this was selfishly for him to indulge in when you weren’t near, to feel like you were close when you’re a million miles away. You sat on the edge of the bed, eyes following his as he reaches out and presses down your hair, frizzed up by the dress sitting on the floor beside his feet.

“So cute,” He admires, “And somehow even sexier…”

He leans down and meets your craned neck halfway in a tender, reassuring kiss, “If it gets too weird just say, baby.”

His words were just loud enough for you to hear, not for the camera – just you, “Oh, you know I will.”

He laughs into the kiss, knowing that you were in full control of this situation – he was under no illusions when it came to your dynamic. It was laced through your entire relationship, the fair balance of power – of give and take. But tonight, all he wanted was to make you feel good and so he rested between your already shaky thighs and pried them apart, basking in how seduced you are by his little ploy.

“You pretend like this shit doesn’t turn you on but look at you,” He revels, one solitary finger brushing languidly through your folds and earning an impatient growl.

Lando wasn’t in the mood for teasing – the battery life on the camera and your legs wrapping tightly around his head made sure of that. He helps you shuffle back on the bed, hands gripping your hips as he rearranges the shot – you caught a glimpse of the blurry reflection of the two of you naked on the camera lens and it sent a pang of doubt down your spine, chilling.

“I hope we don’t look disgusting when we watch this back.” It was an honest thought – one you hope doesn’t kill the mood.

“You look so unbelievably hot,” Lando hums, kissing the top of your shoulder before pressing his hand to your lower back, “Lay on your front and I’ll fuck you like this…”

You raise a sceptical eyebrow, “From the back? This is getting real porny now.” But of course you do it, positioning yourself on your stomach, backside up with a playful smirk that had the man behind you grinning like an idiot.

“Might as well put on a bit of a show just in case this does get out somehow,” Lando teases, earning a swift round arm to the ribs. He grimaces in pain but you knew behind those flirtatious blue eyes, he loves it.

“Well you better fuck me good, huh? Wouldn’t want people thinking you’re a dud shag…” Now it was your turn to taunt and Lando’s reaction was the exact one you were praying for.

A hasty smack to your ass that had been brushing against his clothed cock for better part of a minute; it wasn’t a hard but it certainly wasn’t timid, either and the moan that slipped from your lips had him itching to rearrange your insides. He smoothed over the reddening mark and pressed a sweet kiss to your spine before pushing down the waistband of his sweatpants, freeing himself between your thighs.

“Don’t hold back those sweet sounds, pretty girl. I wanna hear you, okay? I want everyone to hear you…”

“Same goes for you, handsome.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you surrender to the delicious stretch he gives you. Weakly pushing back but making no head way in adjusting. A whimper falls from your mouth before the squeal when Lando lunges forward, pushing deeper with a sadistic grin lining his bitten lips. He was sweating already – tanned skin glimmering against the darkening sunset while every muscle on his stomach contracted, delving further into your depths.

“That’s it, Lan,” You sputter out, blowing stray hairs out of your face so you can get a good look at your boyfriend, “Move it just like that – yes…”

And he did, rotating your hips tantalisingly slow to begin but gradually building up his long, delectable strokes – the sounds of skin slapping and shallow breathing heightening all of the senses. In the midst of his relentlessness, you manage to slip your hand between your thighs, toying with the sensitive bud begging for your attention. Lando’s strained hum of approval when he felt your back arching sent a rush of blood to your fingertips.

“Tell me how good it feels when you play with yourself?” He asks, hunched over and kissing the nape of your neck when you opened your eyes, giggling at the wispy curls tickling your skin, “Is that how you do it when I’m not around?”

“God, yes… But wish you were always here, baby.”

“Do ya imagine me fucking you like this, huh? Begging for that pussy to come around my cock?” He probes, receiving a moan in response – your brain short-circuiting from the orgasm quickly approaching, easing you over the edge.  

You buried your head at first, shying away from the little red light flashing in your rolling eyes until Lando gently encouraged you to ‘show him your pretty face when you come undone’. It was all whispers and moans and absolute bliss when you resurfaced, pupils blown out from both sides as Lando reached over you and flipped the small preview screen around.

“Look at yourself,” He grunts into your neck, losing control of every single fibre of his being as he pumped into you.

“Fill me up, Lan. Make a mess…”

“If you say shit like that to me, you're gonna make me– fucking… fuck,” He sputters out, chanting your name, and before you can even blink, you feel that familiar twitch inside you.

The one that almost always triggers another high, extremely close to losing yourself to the white hot pleasure all over again.

Lando collapses into your slick back, his warm release pooling as he catches his breath and holds you tightly. You look up at the camera – the red light still flashing as you muster up every ounce of energy remaining and pick it up off the tripod. You hold it stupidly close to his flushed cheeks that are pressed into your skin, eyes closed.

“Any last words before I turn this off?” You ask, Lando slowly lifts his chin up and rests it next to your face. You smile at how equally fucked out and sleepy you both appear, blissfully satisfied by your work. His voice is gravelly when he tries to speak, clearing his throat before trying again.

“Um, yeah so make sure you like the video and subscribe if you haven’t already…”

“Stop!” You shout and smack him in the shoulder – Lando groans with faux pain into your neck as you turn the camera off and wriggle out of his strong grasp.

“You are unbelievable!” You jest, swatting his tickling fingertips away.

“What? I could’ve said stay tuned for part two…”

a/n – happy new years everyone x

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie notices things.

He might be loud and brash, might be over the top and his mouth might run away before his brain can kick in, but he still notices things.

He likes the details. Loves a fantasy world that’s so detailed it’s believable. Loves a tiny detail in a story that becomes relevant two hundred pages later. Loves a detail in a puzzle in a DnD game. He loves the minutia of everything.

So he notices these details about people. Mostly because Eddie likes to create people. He likes to write his own stories, likes to make his DnD characters real...foibles and all. Any time Eddie is alone, or bored, or waiting, sometimes he looks around and thinks, ‘if I were writing this, how would I describe it?’ And then he does...he writes in his head about the tree he can see, what the weather is doing right now, how he would describe the quality of the sunlight or the way the rain rattles against the window. He watches complete strangers and writes out their whole life in his head. Eddie likes the details, and he likes to create characters, and he also thinks, a lot of the time, you write what you know.

So yeah, Eddie pays attention to the people around him. How they dress, how they behave, if they bite their nails or chew pen lids. If they stand straight or lounge against the nearest wall or counter. How they cradle their smoke in their hand when it’s breezy out.

All the little details he can build into characters he makes in his mind.

Steve’s calendar interests him. It probably shouldn’t, that stuff would be private if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s hanging in Steve’s kitchen where anyone can see it. Plus the fact that it is just a calendar and there for by it’s nature isn’t very interesting. Eddie thinks he finds it interesting just by the virtue that it’s to do with Steve Harrington, and therefore it immediately becomes very interesting to Eddie.

It’s got big pages, a decent amount of space to write in every day. And Steve has. Every single day.

There’s a pattern to it that Eddie deciphers pretty fast; his shift at work is on the top line; it’s in red. Next is anything to do with the kids, and it’s in green; picking the kids up or meeting them or going to a game for Lucas or basically anything like that. Then blue, and that seems to be stuff to do with Eddie himself, Robin, Nancy, if he needs to meet them, give them a ride somewhere, or just times to hang out.

The bottom line is in black, and it’s stuff like, ‘hoover’, ‘do laundry’, ‘bathroom,’ ‘kitchen’, ‘groceries,’ followed by a little note that seems to be about whatever Steve plans to have for dinner that night.

Below it is a note pad, also hanging up, with an in process grocery list on it. Eddie knows why all this is here; Steve’s forgetful.

If Steve makes plans, he immediately writes it down; Eddie’s seen it for himself.

Eddie sees it too, when Steve’s struggling to hear. If too many people speak at once, or if there’s too much background noise, Steve doesn’t stand a chance.

If he’s not looking at you when you’re speaking to him, chances are, he might not be hearing you. Which, okay, Eddie’s just kind of rolling with it.

Until they get together. No one was more surprised by this turn of events than Eddie, who was convinced that he was just going to pine after Steve forever and that would just be how things were for the rest of his life. That was right up until Steve Harrington held his hand and just sort of...seemed to forget to let go.

Eddie hasn’t pointed it out to him yet, he’s still kind of worried that if he points out the fact that they’re kind of, sort of, dating, Steve might realize and stop again. So yeah, Eddie rides the wave, not at all freaking out when Steve invites him over for dinner and a movie like that’s just a normal thing they do now. Because it is. Because they’re kind of dating.

There’s no answer, but that’s pretty normal, the front door is unlocked a lot of the time, Steve doesn’t want to hinder anyone's entry if there’s any kind of emergency going on, and it’s totally normal now for any of them to just wander into Steve’s house.

Steve is cooking; Eddie can smell it. He stands in the kitchen doorway and says Steve’s name. And predictably, Steve doesn’t react.

Eddie takes this as an opportunity to gauge this. He says Steve’s name a little louder; still nothing.

Eddie tries four times, a step closer and a little louder each time, until the last time, when Steve spins around so fast the spoon he’s holding splatters sauce on the counter top and his other hand flies to his chest, “holy shit.”

“Sorry,” Eddie rubs at Steve’s arm and shoulder as he gets his breathing under control, “you couldn’t hear me.”

Steve shrugs, “it’s fine.”

“Stevie…you could at least, you know, go get them checked, or whatever.”

Steve hums, "maybe, if you go with me," and Eddie's quick to agree, because he gets a kiss out of it.

[cleo-fox]

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable. 

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

*

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest. 

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands  make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

[mysicklove]

i can imagine izuku still being a virgin and getting so pussydrunk because it's his first time

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘

Pairings: Virgin! Sub! Top! Pro-Hero! Izuku x Experienced! Dom! Bottom! AFAB! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Alcohol use, heavy overstimulation, vaginal penetration, biting, hickeys, creampie, crying, begging, nicknames,, multiple rounds

A/N: Guys Im going to be honest. This is lowkey mostly plot heavy and not too much smut. Im sorry anon I should have made it short and smutty, but I just had this idea and one thing lead to another... I will make short smut stuff!!!!!

Izuku was desperate to have sex. He may be doing fantastic career-wise, but his life in the sheets was dry. So unbelievably dry. He was so pent up, so frustrated, he needed it so badly. Every night he has to get himself off, and by god, he wanted more.

He met you a couple of weeks ago, and you have clouded his mind ever since. He doesn't even know your name. All he knows is you were wearing a red dress, and you kissed him so hard he couldn't breathe. Pressed your knee on his clothed cock, and just like nothing happened, disappeared.

He was drunk. The both of you were. He remembers the smell of alcohol on your breath, how flushed you look. He was probably no better, the fact that this happened at all means he had to be wasted. He barely has the confidence to talk to girls.

It happened at some sort of party that only celebrities or the rich attend, but with all the Google searches in the world, he couldn't find you. His search history was embarrassing.

But even so, he fantasized about you. The purr of your voice, the soft hands that ran over his muscular body, the way you said, “Such a pretty boy in front of me, you must have all the ladies in the palm of your hand, hmm?” while pressing your lips, coating with red lipstick, onto his neck.

He couldn't get you out of his head. He attended every single party, but alas he could never find you. He would end up at home, alone, touching himself.

Until he found you again, two months later. At another party.

He spills the champagne in his hands, when he sees you, eyes wide, before stumbling up and over to you. You are at a table by yourself, sipping on some sort of cocktail. You were in a dark blue tight dress today, and instead of that red lipstick that stained his neck, you were wearing clear lip gloss.

He awkwardly, and hesitantly taps your shoulder, and flushes when you turn around. The thoughts of that night come flooding back to him, and he has to look away so he doesn't get a hard-on.

“Oh! Deku, I didn't know you were here.” You say with a bright smile and he blinks at you. He just cannot stop thinking about the fact that this is the face he gets off to daily. The way you look now is so different than last time. You look so innocent, grinning so widely, it's nothing like the flushed, domineering persona you had that night.

Either way, it's still you and he gulps. “Hey! Yeah…I was invited.”

You smile into your glass cup. “I would hope so.”

He blushes. Such a stupid thing to say. Of course, he was invited and you were too, what was he even talking about? “So..What's your name?”

You hold out a hand and grin. “Y/N.”

He takes it and gently shakes it, trying to hold back his nervous shaking. “It's nice to me you, Im–”

“Deku?” You prompt with a tilt of your head.

He falters, “Uh yeah! But I was going to say, Izuku” He trails off and you laugh.

“Sorry. Got ahead of myself! It's nice to meet you Izuku.” And suddenly your facial features flip. That smirk is back. He loves it. “Your tie is all messed up, mind if I fix it?” He blushes but nods. You grin and grab onto the green tie, and he goes needle straight. “Yknow. You look awfully familiar, Izuku.” You say in a lone tone, that makes the blood flow straight to his cock.

He splutters, “You, you think so?” You drop the tie and hum. Your mouth opens, beginning another probably teasing remark when a call of your name cuts you off. A female voice, he takes specific note of.

You turn to him and smile. “Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around, pretty boy.”

He stands there staring at the space you just preoccupied with a blank face. And then it hits him. Pretty boy. That’s what you called him that night. You remember. You had to. He turns around quickly and says, “Wait!” but you are already gone. Hidden by the crowd of dancing and drinking rich idiots.

He eyes the cocktail you left, sighs, and finishes it off. He has gotta get some liquid courage in him if he wanted to be bold enough to deal with you.

He searched the party all night, but alas he couldn't find you. He almost began to give up hope, when suddenly he saw you. Alone, once again, and on the balcony. He sets his drink down and uses the silver reflection of his plate as a mirror to quickly brush through his hair. He sighs and then as calmly as he could so nobody would say anything, walks to the balcony.

When you hear the footsteps, you turn around, and when you see who exactly it is, you grin. He laughs nervously. “Woah, funny seeing you here, Y/N.”

You raise your eyebrow and turn to lean your back on the balcony ledge. “Oh don't give me that, I saw you looking for me all night like a lost puppy.” You throw your head back in a laugh and his ever-returning blush is back.

“Y-You knew? But, why didn't you…” He trails off when you step closer to him. Now you were less than a foot away, grinning up at him, he could almost feel your breasts press against him. He gulps and looks away, hoping to fight his arousal. He could smell the traces of alcohol.

You grab his face to make him look at you, and you lean forward like you are going to kiss him, and then pause, centimeters away. “Izuku, what do you want from me?”

“Everything.” He whispers eyes half-lidded as he stares at your lips.

You smile. “Good answer.” And then press his lips to his. He groans, low and softly, but leans into the kiss. He grabs your waist and presses you against him, and you pull away when you feel his hard cock. “Where should we go?” You prompt, basically inviting him to ask you to his place.

But, much to your dismay, he doesn't get it. “Bathroom,” He says, thinking back to that one night, and then leans forward for another kiss.

You pull away, eyebrows furrowed in disgust. His eyes widen when he feels your warmth disappear. “Bathroom, really? You–You are just like all the others. I thought after the whole romantic balcony scene you would at least have the decency to ask me to your place.” You turn around to head back inside.

He stumbles forward, and grabs your wrist, eyes pleading. “Wait! I'm sorry! I'm nervous, please come over! I've never done this before, I promise I'm not like the others,” He basically begs and this time your eyes widen.

“Oh my. Don't tell me, the number one pro hero, is a virgin?” He looks away and goes silent. You throw your head back in laugh at the confirmation, and he pouts. Then, you grab onto the green tie and pull him forward, he stumbles in front of you, the blush returning. “I'm going to have so much fun with you, pretty boy.”

Tonight was the best night ever, Izuku decides when his head is thrown back, mouth open, as you sink onto his cock. How could he be missing this all of his years? It was so much better than the fantasy. So much better.

“Oh god,” He groans, hands coming to your hips instinctually. You begin to steady your movements, sitting on your knees in his lap.

“How does it feel? After all this time, you finally lost your virginity,” You say with a grin, hand running down to trace his chest. He nods, a drunken smile pulling at his face.

He gazes down at your sexes and moans. “Feels good. Warm, mhmm so warm.” His voice cracks, “and tight. So much b-better than my hand.”

You laugh, but it comes out in broken pants, so you lean forward to kiss him. He pulls away quickly, eyes wide and panicked. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to cum. No, no, it's too earlier. I can't” He shakes his head and clutches at the sheets beneath him, trying desperately to hold it back, as you continue to ride him.

You shake your head with an adoring gaze. “’s alright. We will just have to go again. And again and again, until you are all fucked out, hmm?”

He stares at you with hearts in his eyes, nodding rapidly. “Yes. Yes, please, please. Fuck. Cumming. I’m cuming!” And just like he said, he released his load in you and rolls his eyes back. Small gasps and a silent moan tumble down from his lips, and his hand shakes as he grips onto your hips.

You coax him through it with a smile, running your fingers through his unruly hair. When he comes down from his high he stares at you with a lazy grin, and the next thing you know you are being flipped over.

Your eyes widen as you feel Izuku start to move in and out again. It was surprising, he had just come down from his orgasm. Wasn't he being overstimulated? His pathetic whine answered your question. “Iz-Izuku, do you want to take a break?” You sigh when he begins to pick up the ruthless pace again.

He leans his head into your neck and shakes his head rapidly. His voice comes out in a pitchy whine, “But you said!” He grips the pillow next to your head and whimpers into your neck, feeling the pain of his spent cock being overworked.

“We can go again after you recover.” You gasp and clutch onto his back, sending nail marks down it. He groans. “So it won't hurt you.”

He shakes his head again and you can feel the drip of the tears falling onto your neck. He was trembling. “No. Please don't make me stop. ‘m good. So good. Feels so so good.”

You grin, maybe a little sadistically as you watch him begin to crumble. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer. He moans, high pitched, and loud. He presses his lips to your neck, sucking and marking any area he can lay his mouth on. You crane your neck to allow his urges. “I love it. I love it.” He half murmurs half whines in between kisses.

“Hmm?” You respond, not trusting yourself to speak while he begins to pick up the pace. One hand grips onto his hair and the other continues to scratch his back.

“Your pussy. S-So warm and tight. ’s like it was made for me.” He gasps and you laugh, to the best of your ability.

You pull him back by the mop on his head and he whines, eyes shut, as his head tilts backward. “What happened to my bashful virgin? You're so lewd now.” His hips pick up the pace.

He tries to the best of his ability to shake his head but ultimately fails under your grip. “But I love it! I do!” You laugh at the ridiculous response and let go of his hair. He collapses back and immediately buries his face into your neck again. “Im going to cum again. Can I cum? Please, please.”

“So quick. Still have a virgin body. Alright. For me, yeah?”

He nods a little embarrassed, and he feels his muscles begin to contract. He bites down on your shoulder and you hiss, but he ignores it, riding his second orgasm through. It's stronger and harder than the first and he screams into your skin, tears falling copiously down his round, flushed cheeks.

He peers down and widens his eyes when he sees his cum begin to leak out of your pussy. He gulps, feeling himself get hard once again, and flips you over immediately. “More. More. Please, just one more. One more time.” He lays completely on top of you and interjoins his fingers with yours.

He uses his arm to lift your hips up so that it was easier to fuck. It makes you raise your eyebrows. He must have watched a lot of porn to know that trick.

“What if I say no?” You tease and he releases an unsteady whine. His eyes are blurry from the tears.

“Please don't say no. Please, I love it. I love it so much. Please, Y/N!” He begs, dropping his head on the pillow next to your face.

“So needy.”

“P-Please.” He whimpers, in a voice so low you could barely hear and you grin.

“Alright. Go ahead.” You could barely finish your statement when all of a sudden he is pounding into you again, mumbling stuff like “Thank you. Thank you.” and “Good. So good.”

You know it hurts him. It has too, overstimulation is no joke. But the way he continues, eyes watery and hips frantic shows just how desperate he is. How obsessed he is with it. The pain didn't even matter to him, the thought of driving his cock into you spurred him on.

He wanted more. You opened his eyes, and once uncovering the truth, he could never get enough of it.

Fucking Izuku may not have been a good idea. In an instant, you turned this poor, cute virgin, into a pussy-starved man. But alas, he seems to only seek it from one particular person, so it may not be all that bad.

He came five times that night and you twice. He asked to go again, but you had to stop him when you took a peak at his fuming red cock, tear-stained cheeks, and trembling body. He doesn't seem to know when to stop.

You left early that morning, legs wobbly and body completely spent. He slept in, his body seeming to be more exhausted than yours.

When he woke up, his body sticky from sweat, his hair messy and body was sore, the first thing he took notice was the sticky note stuck onto his forehead.

Messy, cursive handwriting spelled out, I’ll be waiting for my lost puppy to come crawling back to me again. Xoxo, Y/N

He fell back onto the pillow with a groan. Not even a phone number. You were so cruel.

So, he does what any good puppy does. He attends every party for the next three weeks until he finds you again.

[vagabond-umlaut]

a battle well begun is the war half won

gojo notices you. you notice gojo. [the boy wants your eyes on him at all times.]

teen!gojo x fem!reader; first meetings; love at first sight[??]; lovesick gojo[??]; mostly fluffy; 1 small discussion on death; reader is in 1st yr whilst gojo is in 3rd yr; gojo has a very... unique definition of romancing in his brain; 'one-sided enemies to lovers' vibes; 2.2k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

the og saying is smthng else, yeah... ik. i js tweaked it a bit for fic title purposes, hehe. also, pls no comments on how i named this series... i used to hv a love-hate thing with pseudo-force problems in physics during my hs... and i'm srsly out of ideas :D

header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

the sky bleeds green, the first time gojo sees you fight.

it isn't anything enthralling. your movements, far from well-practised. your twisted expression screams unease at best, extreme discomfort at worst— you are definitely not one of the best sorcerers the boy has seen so far—

yet he finds himself utterly transfixed.

feet rooted to the earth as an even brighter green beam cuts through the forest. and the second mountain of cursed energy becomes a few wisps of smoke. your form slumping to the ground not long after—

were the boy a better person at heart, he reckons he would've rushed to help you. but he isn't. not really.

so he keeps to his vantage point. blue eyes narrowing a touch behind his shades, as they watch you slowly heave yourself off the mud, face shifting into a scowl as you trudge towards a tree and plop down with no ceremony in front of it—

a barely-there rustle to his left.

followed by the appearance of the steady simmer of a cursed energy, all too familiar.

"yo, nanamin!" gojo greets, wearing a wide beam the second the said kouhai comes before him, feet carefully and soundlessly treading the rugged terrain— the latter's perpetual glower turns into a momentary flicker of surprise.

but it's vanished before the older boy can comment on it.

nanami's face flattens back to its usual state of annoyed indifference.

"the tournament is already over. yaga-sensei wants us all to report to him in another ten..." the boy trails off. rather abruptly. rather strange for him— aha! so nanamin has finally spotted you in the valley below, huh?— gojo wraps an arm around his kouhai's shoulders, allowing his gaze to return to you as well.

you look pretty cute when you're yawning...

"she's from kyoto, isn't she?"

"yes," the younger boy replies, pinning gojo under a curious look. but it's gone all too soon, all too swiftly like the ones preceding. he drops the arm resting on his shoulder.

gojo lets him. simply pouting in response, before he hums, "do you know her?"

"personally, no," nanami is quick to answer, "but from what i've heard from others... she's somewhat peculiar, if i may say so."

this is honestly one of the best opportunities he will ever get to tease that stoic underclassman of his, even more 'cause since when did he, the nanami kento, start gossipping like old geezers!?— but gojo opts to let this chance pass by.

getting more deets on you is way more important for him.

he doesn't bother to hide his burgeoning interest from his tone. "you know her name by any chance?"

nanami does. and as far as gojo knows, your surname doesn't belong to any of the sorcerer clans. none of the major clans, he is pretty sure of that— you might be from a minor one. or, what his gut feelings are telling him, you're from a non-sorcerer background.

not that it matters to him. he is better than the elders of his clan.

"and which year is she in?"

"first year."

wow. you haven't been in school for more than a few months, but you have already managed to make people talk about yourself, huh? quite impressive, gojo thinks as he steals another glance of you.

this time, no longer yawning. just staring vacantly at your keds—

except those muddy shoes are no longer the object of your attention. it is him— really, so very him— your bright, blinding, blindingly bright gaze, every ounce of it focused on him, as your back straightens. and he spots your shoulders tense, brows furrow—

gojo satoru doesn't run away.

he is one of the strongest duo of jujutsu sorcerers. the boy does not, he cannot, he must not run away... yet that's what he does when his gaze collides with you the first time.

grabbing nanami's hand and wasting not one moment to warp them both to the school rooftop, his kouhai's yelp of surprise goes with an ear-piercing whistle of the winds— gojo releases his hold on the boy, the moment his feet touch the concrete— and turns to him, eyes the calmest he can make them seem.

"tell me everything you know about her— like, right now— or i will tell your dear geto-senpai you were the one who finished his melon pan— quit glaring and start speaking, nanamin!!!"

****

turns out, nanami's heart has a very soft corner for gojo's best friend.

also turns out, the third-year need not wait till the breakfast at 10 am tomorrow, to approach you— you amble into his life, dressed in a tad too washed-out set of pajamas and a terrible hairstyle— gojo reckons an angel too would look the same, when you flip the kitchen lights on, making the clock seem a halo-ey thing behind your head.

you stop. suck in a sharp breath.

the boy swallows the last bit of his mochi. and grins.

"heeey! you're the newbie from kyoto, right? heard a lot 'bout you!"

honestly? it was less of hearing and more of extracting info, but gojo decides not to mention it. you don't have any business knowing that, whatever can be the case— ten painfully slow seconds tick by before you return him a response—

a stiff smile.

an even stiffer bow.

followed by you turning on your heel.

were gojo any slower, you would've slipped from the kitchen without any doubt. but he isn't. which is why not even four seconds can pass before he stills you again, this time not by his tall figure lounging in a terrifyingly dark kitchen but by his fingers grasping your wrist.

thumb pressing into the dangerously frantic pulse beneath your skin.

you try to snatch your hand away. and the boy lets you. only 'cause he was too distracted by the furious warmth of embarrassment creeping into your pretty face— no, it is not for how your skin felt a tad too soft beneath the callouses of his palm...

you're the first one to speak this time. voice so quiet... so firm.

"i don't think i can help you with anything, senpai. please don't bother me this way. let me go... please."

no way in hell is gojo bothering you right now— the indignant retort is the first thing the boy can think of. but he resolves to bite it back.

a stupid argument isn't how he wants his story with you to start. sure, there might and will be those later on, but not now. no. he shoots the second grin of his this night, your way.

"aw, i don't need your help with anything— but yeah, you're right. i'm not supposed to stop you like this... you need to sleep enough before tomorrow's one-on-one duels, don't ya?"

"yeah," you agree easily, eyes drifting to your shoes in a small nod.

gojo's grin widens.

maybe like a cheshire cat.

maybe like a victor cat who finally got the rat right where he wanted: in his paws.

"but you won't be needing a lot of rest if you're already determined to lose the match tomorrow— will you now?"

no, you won't. you obviously won't. gojo has learnt enough about you to predict this much accurately; but maybe not too accurately. given you don't show any sliver of shock or fear in return.

just two eyebrows raised, only to slowly descend to their original level a moment later. your tone feels firmer this time. "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?"

"nothing too serious," the boy hums easily, stuffing his hands into his trousers pockets. why do they start being so cold, so clammy now of all times??— "just that it doesn't take a hell lot of work to maintain an image of being an incompetent idiot, like the one you always seem to be— c'mon," the boy coaxes, making his voice seem extra petulant at noticing still no emotion whatsoever on your face, "you do know what i'm speaking of, don't you?"

in retrospect, maybe... he should have handled you with greater care. you're not only new to your school, but also to the world of sorcery in general. pressing you so hard will hurt you, if not break you entirely— but gojo doesn't let such concerns form in his mind. not even for one whole second.

not when he wants to see something, anything come to life in those bright eyes of yours. he is dying to see a spark in them.

you fold your arms across your chest. brows nearing in a mild scowl. gojo doesn't really understand, but loves the sense of joy the sight is bringing him— "what exactly are you trying to tell me, senpai?" your adorable voice repeats, stonier than before.

he resists the urge to pinch your cheeks. or worse, coo at you.

the boy removes his hands from his pockets. copying your stance as he says, "i cannot really tell you anything, y'know— you're almost as smart as me— i mean, tricking those stinking geezers into believing you're just some weakass, with neither a cursed technique nor good fighting skills, despite the insane amount of cursed energy you've..."

"why did you never curb your cursed energy, by the way?" the query slips past his lips into the space in between: horribly genuine. a fact that doesn't escape your eye, he grasps when you reply— in spite of the not-too-little reluctance marking your features.

"the higher-ups were aware of my high cursed energy before i even knew what the hell it was— it was honestly too late," you state in an awfully matter-of-fact tone, "they would have noticed if i tried to do anything to it."

the 'and they would have harmed me or my family' goes unsaid, but gojo doesn't need to hear it to know it. not entirely intentionally, his voice grows softer with the next question.

"but you tampered with something that no one knew anything of yet— you lied about having no cursed technique, didn't you?"

your hesitation overpowers you this time, however. brows furrowing for a beat at him, before they flatten again. you offer a curt nod.

few more seconds borrowed until you speak again, "but my horrible fighting skills weren't a lie entirely... i really am shit at fighting— you saw that today, did you not?"

he did. he so did—

but that very moment, he also saw just how strong your technique is. surely not as powerful as his. but pretty much capable on its own— it frankly won't be a serious issue even if you keep fighting how you did today—

the sound of a yawn breaks his internal musings.

those big eyes of yours blink up at him. so bleary, so bright. he stifles the urge to pinch your cheeks again. deciding to shoo away the sleep in your eyes by throwing the next ask his brain has cooked up. one he knows, has the biggest 'yes!' ever for its answer—

"you're very scared of dying, aren't you? that's why you always make yourself seem so weak— so much so that you aren't assigned to any mission— don't you?"

— only to question his brain when he notes the easy smile twist your lips. it sharpens at the edges as you answer, "dying's rather easy and uncomplicated, senpai. it doesn't really scare me, except maybe, the pain i might have to suffer— but do you know what's scarier??"

"no," gojo says back quietly. honestly. your smile grows something an awful lot similar to pity— the boy detests it usually... but coming from you, he thinks he will take it.

he will take any look you're willing to give him.

as long as it's you on the other side—

your words reach him quieter than the breeze outside. "what's more terrifying is the worry of what is going to happen to your loved ones, should you just die someday— death is inevitable, but i just want to stave it off for as long as i can. just so i may live with my family... you know what, senpai?" you interrupt yourself abruptly, voice becoming the sharpest in these last fifteen minutes.

a feeble sound escapes the boy.

he isn't sure if it's because of that sincere little hum in your words or if it is the gleam of the moonlight on your face. perhaps, both...

yeah, both— it is rather difficult to distinguish between the beauty of your inner self from that of your outer self— the smile simmers down to a subtle twitch of your lips.

something stutters and stumbles inside gojo's chest.

"i know you see me as nothing more than a coward right now, but i believe... it's better to be a coward and alive, than to be a hero and dead— isn't it, senpai?"

[you're pretty bold, however.

far braver than he could ever deem you to be, the boy muses later to himself with a wry smile, an ice bag on the big toe of his right foot— this poor thing swollen and bruised from how mercilessly the heel of your slipper stamped onto it earlier—

okay, fine— the sorcerer concedes to the imaginary angel perched on his shoulder. something between a grumble and a sigh escaping— he shouldn't have asked you out on a date, in return for him to keep your secrets.

it was really inappropriate, he admits. and gojo likes to see himself as a gentleman... yet, yet, yet.

the need to see that placid mask of yours crack— let it be by a glower and not by the smile, he has never seen on you but knows will be just as lovely as you— that need was too overwhelming then as well...

shushing the angel and fist-bumping his guardian devil, gojo tosses the ice bag away. and falls back into his bed—

a very happy, a touch too giddy grin splitting his face into halves:

you really are a peculiar girl, heh!]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[jennelikejennay]

I know this is basically heresy to the Spock fandom. I know a lot of people will disagree, and fics will continue to do things exactly the way they always have. But I must speak my truth.

Spock is not green.

Spock's blood is green but his skin is best described as sallow. Pale with a yellow undertone.

Likewise humans are not honestly all that pink (no matter what Shran says). But we are more pink than Spock is green. We have a pink undertone, but Spock's undertone is yellow.

I've thought it over: the colors of human blood, with and without oxygen; the colors of copper, oxidized and not; the color of the copper-based blood of horseshoe crabs; the optical qualities of human skin. And I offer an explanation.

If you have a lightish skin tone and you flip your forearm over, you'll see blue veins. Which is why you probably grew up thinking unoxygenated blood is blue. It's actually not; it's purple.

What we're seeing is a scattering effect. You know how the sun shines in the atmosphere, and most of the color comes straight through just fine, but the blue covers the whole sky instead of coming straight down with the rest of the sunlight? That's because our atmosphere lets the other colors straight through (the warm white of the sun as seen from Earth) but scatters blue, making it seem like it's coming from everywhere.

Human skin does the same thing to red. While blue comes straight through, as if the skin were transparent, showing clear-edged veins, red is scattered. You won't see your arteries. Instead you see a pink cast that seems to be coming from everywhere.

Importantly, which colors show through and which are scattered has nothing to do with our blood, and everything to do with the optical properties of our skin.

Back to Spock. Oxidized, his blood is grass green. Which is kind of odd when you think about it. Horseshoe crabs have copper-based blood, and it's blue. When it doesn't have oxygen in it, it's pretty much colorless.

And this is the color of oxidized copper. I wouldn't call it grass green. The proper word is verdigris.

So for Spock's blood to be grass green, there's probably something yellow in it. The plasma, or the white blood cells, or whatever.

Unoxygenated, copper is ... well, copper-colored. Orangey-brown. I'm not sure if it's possible for anyone's blood to ever get fully unoxygenated—cells just aren't that efficient. But if we assume Spock's blood is less green and more orange when unoxygenated, we might expect a yellowish-brown, yellow being the only color in both green and copper.

So we just have to assume Spock's skin has optical qualities which allow yellow through more than green or brown. The yellow is scattered, while visible blood vessels (if Spock has any) might be green or brown.

Yes, I'm arguing that Spock blushes yellowish. His ordinary skin tone would darken. You wouldn't have a whole new color showing up.

None of this implies that Spock's mucus membranes (tongue, gums, internal parts of genitals such as a sheathed penis) wouldn't be green. Without the thick, protective Vulcan skin, a lot more would show through.

I'm just saying, Spock looks pale-to-yellow on the show and I'm okay with that. I think science can justify it. (Alternatively, as SPOCKNALIA argues, Vulcan skin is too thick to show much through it, and the yellow tone is Vulcan melanin.)

However, I may still continue to have Spock blush green just for art's sake, and you can too. The only law of fanfic is that your canon is whatever you say it is.

[thebestofoneshots]

sights | James Potter x Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Word Count: 5.9 k

Warnings: Smut, oral (Female and Male receiving), P in V, lots of praise, consent is sexy, lusty!James, he literally can't take his eyes off you.

Prompt: Inspired by the sense of sight, this fic tells the story of James Potter's first birthday as your boyfriend, and the secret gift you prepared for him a the end of the night.

sights is part of The Five Senses: an anthology series where each chapter will be a stand alone story, inspired by the different ways we have of perceiving the world around us.

18+ readers only (smut under the cut)

James Potter gives the meanest cuddles. He always did. In the mornings you slept over, he wouldn’t want to let go of you, and at night time, when he would pretty much manhandle you until you were atop of him and held you tight between his strong arms as he rubbed soft circles on your back, under your shirt. He’d slowly find the hem of whatever shirt you wore, and pull it just enough to be able to slide his warm hand inside, he absolutely loved the feeling of your skin, how soft it was, how warm it was. He also loved how small you were in comparison to him, how he could warp his arms around you, and how you’d playfully push on him, but never really aimed to get out of his grasp. He loved the smell of your hair and the taste of your lips. He’d been bewitched, and he couldn’t help it. 

When you said you’d date him, after his last birthday party, he’d gone static, didn’t even sleep that night, just because he was thinking of how he’d get to give you a soft kiss in the morning once you two met at the common room. And he’d been the most devoted boyfriend you’d ever seen. The boys would always tease him about it, about how you’d get tired of his antics and date a normal boy instead, one who wasn’t eyeing you like a simp while in class, that wouldn’t send you love letters even if you lived almost across the other, Sirius once even joked you’d leave James for him since he was more handsome. The way you laughed after he said that had offended him so much he didn’t talk to you for a week. But what the boys didn’t know, was that you secretly loved all of James’ quirks, the way he’d hold your hands, the little notes he left, the way whenever he went to Honeydukes he’d bring back your favourite candy. No matter how you looked at it, James Potter was the best boyfriend in the world. And you wanted to be the best girlfriend too, so when his birthday and your first anniversary rolled around, you knew you wanted to make it the most special birthday of his entire life. 

Spring was just around the corner when Marlene and you sat over the common room couch browsing over some lingerie catalogues she’d gotten from her elder cousin. “This one’s nice,” she told you, pointing at a light green set. 

“Mhm…” you said with a nod, even if you weren’t convinced “It’s more your style thought, isn’t it?” 

Marlene shrugged “I guess… but I’m sure your golden boy would lust over you in it.” 

To be fair, James Potter would lust over you in shabby old cotton undies and a simple bra, heck he’d probably lust over you in a sack of potatoes if you allowed him to, but you wanted the day to be extra special, it had to be extra special. So you kept flipping through the pages along with Marlene, there were many beautiful sets, there was a light pink one that would look insane on Lily, so you and Marlene decided to get it for her together, half as a joke, half because you both genuinely thought it’d look incredible on her. There was a light blue one you decided to get for yourself, even if it was not the one you were looking for, there was a green and gold set you were tempted to get as well, but convinced yourself it was not what you were looking for and moved on, Marlene decided to get that one. You were almost tired of flipping through the pages and not finding what you wanted when Marlene gently flipped over one and you gasped “That’s it!”

It was a black little set, with enough layers to make James go crazy by unwrapping you. It had a black lacy bra and matching panties, the bra was sure to make your boobs look incredible with the new push-up technology the magazine claimed it had. But the set did not stop there, it came with a delicate bodysuit, also made out of lace, that would match perfectly with the bra and undies. The set was perfect.

“What’s it?” You heard James ask from the portrait as he spotted you, he was coming from a reunion with the rest of the prefects, his hair messy and beautiful as always. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as you hid the magazine in the folds of the sofa, which made James raise one of his eyebrows. 

“What were you looking at luv?” He asked with a teasing smile on his face. 

Marlene was about to say something clever to cover for you both, but you got ahead of her “p*rn.” Marlene deadpanned over at you, and you gave her an apologetic smile.

“Really?” James teased, “May I see?” 

He approached the two of you from behind and you kneeled on the sofa to face him, and to make it harder for him to just grab a hold of the magazine “Of course not James, you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Come on…” 

“They’re not your type of men.” 

“How would you know my type in men?” He pressed, half-jokingly.

You thought about it for a minute, and simply said “Regulus.” 

“What?” He asked confused. 

“Your type in men, it’d be Regulus. Sirius’ little bother.” 

The set of expressions he made afterwards was priceless. At first, he raised one of his fingers to object, and just when he was about to say something, he shut his mouth with a small little frown, after a couple seconds more he rose his eyebrows and nodded, agreeing with your statement “Maybe he would.” 

You smiled “See? (Y/N) knows best.” 

“You’re really not showing me are you?” 

You shook your head with a smile “Not apt for your beautiful eyes, sorry.” 

“Can I at least get a kiss?” He asked leaning in closer to you. 

You smiled, and leaned in to give him a quick little peck on the lips “You can always,” you told him with a smile. 

“Ugh, get a room you two,” Marlene said throwing a pillow towards your faces, that caused the two of you to laugh, and just to spite her even more, you pulled James for another kiss. 

“Don’t you have your extracurricular now?” He groaned in response. That was a yes. “Off you go then.” He leaned his forehead on yours for a moment, before nodding to go. 

“See you later luv.” He said as he approached the portrait again “Marlene.” He waved at her and once he was finally outside you let yourself lay on the couch, pulling out the now slightly crumbled magazine. 

“That was close.”

“No shit Sherlock! P*rn?!” She said with raised eyebrows. 

“I was caught off guard!” 

“Yeah, but that’s the worst excuse I’ve heard in my life.” 

“Well, I think he bought it.” 

“Yeah silly, that’s exactly my problem. Next time I see him he’ll be pestering me about showing you dirty stuff. And he’ll probably ask what type of men you were looking at.” 

You shrugged “Just say it was mine.” 

She rose an eyebrow “You really have no shame?” 

You were already opening the magazine again, looking at the set you were going to order “Whatever he thinks won’t matter, he’ll forget all about it on his birthday.” You said with a mischievous grin. Marlene leaned over the magazine to look at the set you were looking at. 

“He most definitely will.” She agreed after looking at the page. 

On the morning of the 27th, you set out to take a long bath, taking a self-care session by using all the different potions you and the girls had created together. By the time you came out of the bathroom, you were glowing. Even Mary whistled as she saw you walking out with a towel, as you looked for your uniform. 

“You already have it on?” Asked Marlene. 

“Have what on?” Asked Lily, looking up from her book. 

“James’ gift,” Marlene said with a smirk. 

“James’ gift, huh?” Lily said with a knowing smile. 

You shook your head “Not yet, I’ll put it on before the party.” 

“That didn’t stop you from lathering yourself with potions, did it?” Mary teased. 

“I have to make myself desirable, don’t I?” 

“Not to the point it’ll torture for him,” Mary said as she saw you pick your shortest skirt. 

Marlene shook her head “Nah, I’m with (Y/N), let Potter suffer for a couple of hours,” She said before grabbing one of her uniform shirts and passing it over “This one should be tighter.” You rose your eyebrows, but nodded, putting it on. It wasn’t super tight, but you used to wear rather loose school uniforms anyway. You fastened your tie and went to grab your vest, but Marlene grabbed your hand and shook her head, “Skip that today.” 

“But the prefects will deduct points from me for not wearing my uniform correctly.” 

Lily shook her head “It’s already spring,” she said “You’ll get away with it, just put on your robes on top, and say you took it off because it was hot if anyone says anything.” You rose an eyebrow at her and she shrugged in response “You’re the one that wants to look desirable.” 

“You’re the best, you knew that, right?” You told her with a smile. 

She smirked in return “So I’ve been told.” 

The first time James saw you that day it wasn’t in the common room like you expected, but in the Great Hall. He spotted you first and had to do a double take because you looked charming, even more so than normal. He wasn’t sure what it was, you certainly hadn’t gotten a haircut, or styled, but something about you was just, radiant, you looked absolutely radiant. 

When you finally spotted him, he was still short-circuiting over how stunning his girlfriend looked. From the curve of your hips, and your smooth legs, to how soft your hair looked. You, in turn, were also drooling over how handsome he looked in his quidditch sweater, the same sweater that gently stretched over his thick muscles. Once you finally reached the table where he sat with the boys, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and planted a soft kiss on his cheeks before letting your head fall next to his “Happy Birthday Bambi!” You told him and proceeded to lather his face with soft kisses. 

By then, Remus who had been sitting next to him, moved to the side so you could take a seat next to James. You smiled, and only after you’d given James at least a kiss for every year of his life, you took the seat in the space they’d left for you. 

James was smiling from ear to ear by the time you sat beside him, and leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek before going back to his food. You’d already planned the entire day, Remus, thank Merlin for his kind soul, had convinced the boys to sleep in the common room so you and James could have the room for the night. Sirius, the wingman he was, had gotten a hold of some special potions so you and James didn’t have to worry about any accidents. Together you’d made sure to prepare the perfect party for James, there would be music, dancing, fireworks, and then, there would be you. 

Peter had taken care of most of the party preparations, he’d already invited all of James’ friends and had also convinced the elves of the kitchen to prepare some snacks. He had been the one to find the kitchens back in first year and he’d always been really good at convincing the elves to cook stuff for him. In the middle of breakfast, you all eyed each other, once the girls were downstairs and most of your friends were on the table, Sirius made a little signal for you, and you took out the small party blower you’d enchanted to be 10 times as loud. The moment you blew on it, the entire room went silent. And after taking a deep breath, your entire table started singing Happy Birthday. Eventually, people that knew Potter from other tables started singing, and even some of the newer kids joined in too. At some point, most of the classroom hall was singing for James, and once the song was over everyone clapped, James, being head boy, quidditch captain and pretty much the golden Gryffindor boy, was liked by almost the entire school, and it showed. 

Sirius had been tasked to distract James, so while you ran around the common room making sure everything was ready, he was flying around the quidditch pitch with your boyfriend. To be fair, you were jealous, but last year you’d been the one to distract him, and that’s how the two of you had ended up all over each other on the bleachers. And you were pretty sure James would want to repeat it, so you decided it was best to let someone else distract him and save the gift for the night. 

“The fireworks have been placed, right?” Remus asked as he walked closer to you. 

You nodded in response “In position, I’ve also got the mix tape Sirius made ready on the music player.”

Remus smiled “You should stay and help with preparations more often, you’re great at it.”

You smiled “Promise I’ll help prepare your party then.”

“They’re coming!” You heard Peter say as ran inside the common room. 

You smiled and went to your hiding spot, along with everyone else, when James came inside, everyone jumped from their places and shouted “Happy Birthday James!” Your boyfriend had a massive smile on his face, as the people who hadn’t already congratulated him piled around him to fill him with hugs and celebrations over his existence. You smiled too, seeing James so happy was absolutely contagious. Especially with the war and the serious things had gotten, it was nice to see him completely forget about it, even if it was just for a day. 

As you were grabbing onto a glass of whatever alcoholic beverage the boys had managed to smuggle inside the castle, you felt James hug you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around you and laying his head over your shoulder “Why’ve you been so far away?” he asked with a pout.

“What do you mean James? I’ve been right here.”

“Yeah, here, not next to your boyfriend, where you should be.” You laughed and turned around to look at him instead, he placed his hands over your hips and started playing with the top hem of your skirt “I was kinda bummed it wasn’t you flying with me today.”

“Awww… Jammie, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You said as you played with his hair.

“When?”

You smiled mischievously, “How does later tonight sound?”

James rose his eyebrows, he’d wanted to claim you the moment he saw you in the Great Hall, and the restraint it took him not to push you over the small table with all the refreshments right then was remarkable.

“Come on,” You told him when you noticed his pupils were blown out, “We still have some party left to enjoy,” You winked, before pulling him to the little area where all of his friends were hanging out. 

You all talked for a while, until it was time for dancing, and Sirius walked towards the stereo, switching the background music to some of the more danceable tunes. You smiled and went straight to dancing with Mary, James was still sitting on the sofa, talking to Remus, when you decided you wanted to torture him, even if it was just a little bit and started swaying your hips for him to notice. At first, he’d been too distracted, but eventually, he did see you, and once he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Your ass looked incredible in that outfit. 

“Mate, you’re staring at her ass,” Remus informed, which had James snap from his trance.

“No, I–”

“–No shame for it,” Remus said raising both of his hands “Just don’t make it so blatantly obvious, people will think you’re a perцert.”

James sighed and placed his hands over his head as he leaned back over the sofa, and just as he wasn’t looking you went straight to the sofa and sat on his lap.

He almost jumped in surprise, but quickly managed to smell it was just you. And he pulled you in closer “Tired of dancing so much?” He mumbled. 

You shook your head “Came to drag you to dance with me, actually.” You told him with a smile. 

“I’m not sure I want to-“ He started but shut up the moment you rolled your hips against his lap. 

“Promise I’ll make it worth it.” You whispered, Remus heard it anyway and snickered before standing up and finding someplace else.

“Baby, now I can’t even stand up,” James said with a frown, he’d gotten a semi-hard. And just to tease him, you rolled your hips again, which had him tightening his grip on your waist. “Let’s just walk upstairs and have a quickie before-“ You rolled your hips again “-fuck (Y/N), you can’t just do that!” he pretty much groaned. 

You smiled when you felt how hard he was, dick pressing to your ass the way you liked it, you wondered how it would feel to have James on that particular sofa, but shook your thoughts away, maybe on a different day. “Sorry Jemmie, we can’t do quickies today,” You said with a shrug and stood up. He didn’t even have enough time to drag you back down on him and had to grab a pillow to cover himself up instead. He narrowed his eyes at you as you smiled at him from the dance floor, still beckoning for him to come dance. He gave you a look, nodding down to the pillow and you giggled, shrugging with a smile and joining Marlene and Mary on the dance floor. 

“Girl, your boyfriend may explode if you continue to treat him like that,” said Marlene. 

You shook your head “Nah, he likes it,” you told her, turning to James with a little wink, before turning back to your friend. 

The fireworks came about an hour later, and people were starting to leave the Gryffindor common room, going back to their own houses or to their rooms. There was a couple making out on one of the sofas and someone passed out on the couch. And as more and more people left, you couldn’t help but feel excited about your own little party upstairs. 

James came towards you, a little desperate as you stood near the window, looking at the night sky, and the smoke residue the fireworks had left. “Can we please go upstairs now? Before the boys want to get to sleep, I’m sure we can have at least a bit of fun,” he pretty much begged. 

You smiled, “I was waiting for you to ask,” you responded as you reached for his hand, omitting the fact that he didn’t have to worry about the boys walking upstairs on that particular night. 

The moment James closed the door he had you pinned against it, his leg finding its way between yours as he kissed you desperately. You let him, there was something about the rush mixed with the possibility of getting caught that always turned James on. When he started to pull on your shirt, to slide his hands underneath, he seemed puzzled since he didn’t find skin, but lace instead. That's when you stopped him, placing both hands on his shoulders softly, which pulled an even more confused look out of him. 

“No need to rush darling,” you told him with a smirk “I’ve made arrangements, the boys will not sleep here today.” 

James pulled a diverted smile “Arrangements, huh?”

You nodded, the playful expression being mirrored in your face, leaning into him to whisper in a low tone “We’ve got all night.” 

“And the… uhm–“ he cleared his throat “the lace?” 

You smiled again, “Your birthday gift,” you told him matter-of-factly “wanna unwrap it?” You offered, almost casually, which had James’ head rolling with the dizziness that came along with the excitement. You gently pulled his arm and moved the two of you towards the bed, having him sit on it, before straddling him and going back to press your lips against his own, separating only to kiss his neck instead as he finally started to unbutton your shirt. 

James was not in a rush anymore, in fact, he was taking his sweet time with the buttons, as if discovering what the lacy thing under the shirt was something that he should relish on, rather than rush to. Finally, when his hand undid the final button he gently pulled your arms from his shoulders so he could fully remove the shirt. You rocked your hips against him, as you’d done earlier, but now his boner was pressing against your cunt, the friction from the lace and his hard cock making you wet instantly. 

Eventually, he pulled you from his neck, he wanted to see you. You pulled back, hands still over his shoulders as you tilted your head to the side with a little smile “Like what you see?” He buckled his hips against you in response, the little black set you’d chosen was doing things to him he didn’t believe possible. He was obsessed with the way the little leotard thing was just sheer enough for him to be able to see your skin, the curve of your breasts and your hardened nipples. “Speak baby,” you commanded. 

“Of course… I fucking love it.” He told you, which just fueled your resolve even more, separating from him, and kneeling on the floor right in front of the boy. You started undoing his belt when he gave you a look “You’re not gonna… are you?” 

You shrugged “My birthday boy deserves the best of treatments.” You replied, continuing your task, you looked absolutely stunning kneeling on the floor for him, skirt pooled on the floor around you, almost completely covering your legs. You looked like a flower, the prettiest he’d ever seen; your breasts just at the right angle for him to relish on the view he had of them. And your pretty lips, you were bitting on them, as if you couldn’t restrain yourself from sucking him a minute more. James wasn’t even sure if he was even gonna last all the way to the moment you placed your pretty lips around him, heck, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been that turned on in his life.  

When you finally pulled the hem of his boxer and took him out, he gasped, you did not waste any time, and started to softly pump him, using your free hand to massage his inner tight. You started slow, almost agonizingly slow, until you finally started to pick up the pace, he saw the way you licked your lips before leaning down, and he had to restrain himself from buckling his hips against your face, gripping on the bed sheets until his knuckles were white. You started with a soft lick along his shaft, James shivered the moment he felt your wet tongue on his delicate skin. After that, you went for the tip, small kitten-like licks at first, like you were testing the waters. This was not the first time you’d ever blowed James, but he wasn’t one to ask for it, he felt too self-conscious to do it, like he was asking you to do something you didn’t particularly like. He couldn’t be more wrong, you absolutely adored toying with him. 

His tip was by far the most sensible part, and he was in awe, staring at you with his breath stuck in his throat as you licked away, alternating between licks and your fingers toying with the nib.

When your mouth finally wrapped around him, he let out the most sinful moan you’d ever heard in your life. Which had you hum in response, your little sound causing your entire throat to reverberate over his cock, and he couldn’t stop himself from buckling up on you. “‘’Mm sorry, kitten” he mumbled, James Potter was above else: a true gentleman. 

You smiled, and took him in deeper, bobbing your head up and down his length. “…fuck… your pretty little mouth is so–“You tightened your grip around him a little and pumped “–Aah.” You were already picking up the piece, James was so close, already involuntarily buckling his hips against you, but he then placed a gentle hand over your shoulder, and pulled you back, a thin string of spit connected you with him still when he spoke “ss-stop,” he managed to say, breathing heavily as you looked at him confused. 

You wiped your mouth with your hand “But you were about to… I- I thought…” 

“I am…” he reassured “I don’t want to yet…” he told you, and then moved his hand over to the back of your neck, you leaned your head on his touch “I haven’t even unwrapped my gift completely,” he said in a flirty tone. You rose your eyebrows at that, and he helped you rise from the floor, the little marks from the rug had itched on your knees, and he looked at you with what you’d only be able to recognize as despair “Kitten…” he reproached. 

“It’s nothing Jemmie, doesn’t hurt much.” 

He shook his head, “Next time we’ll place a pillow, my best girl will not be in pain as she gives me pleasure.” You smiled, James really was the best boyfriend in the world. He then softly wrapped his arms around your waist “May I?” He asked as he toyed with the back button of your skirt. 

“It’s your gift, James, you can do whatever the hell you want with it tonight,” you told him in a low tone, James’ pupils were so blown out after you said that, that his eyes almost looked entirely black, it was the most lustful you’d ever seen him. He carefully unbuttoned the skirt, and pulled the zipper down, allowing the skirt to gently fall over the floor as he stared. And fuck you were so pretty, he couldn’t believe you were actually his, to touch, to kiss, to love.

He stared at you, lips parted and pink, heavy breaths making his chest fall up and down gently, and then he placed his hands over your shoulders, letting them gently slide down your arms, admiring you as he pulled you towards the bed. He placed you there, and then placed himself on top, his knees around your legs and his hands next to your shoulder to hoover above you “fuck…” he all but whispered, “You look so beautiful in this thing.” 

You smiled, realizing how he looked up and down your body, not sure himself how to start “What do you want James?” You whispered seductively. 

“I want to taste you,” he responded simply. 

“Do you now?” You teased “Then go ahead baby!” 

As if he was waiting for that moment, he grabbed onto the straps of the bodysuit and started to pull them down your arms, and then down your torso, the lack of fabric had made the bra even sheerer, allowing him to see your breasts in a better light, and he stared at them for a moment before he continued his task of pulling the body suit down. Once he was done, he went up again and started to caress your legs, spreading them lightly open as he placed soft wet kisses over your inner tight.

And then, since you were expecting his mouth, you were absolutely shocked as he used his free hand to trace over your slit, still over the fabric of the lacy panties “fuck” he swore, “you’re so wet for me.” 

At that moment, James Potter lost control, he all but pushed the thin fabric to the side and started to toy with your folds “So fucking wet,” he added, still tracing kisses on your legs, and then, he finally moved his mouth to you, starting with a long lick over your slit “you smell delightful,” he added. You moaned his name as he did, and he just smiled in return, you didn’t see it, but you felt him smile against your cunt. Then his mouth went straight to your clit, and he alternated between soft licks and hard sucks. At some point your legs closed around his face, involuntarily, he chuckled, relishing how good he knew he was making you feel. 

He then placed both hands over your legs and pulled them back down, “spread open for me, will you?” 

You nodded in response, aching for him to go back to what he was doing just seconds ago, you involuntarily buckled your hips against him, looking at his playful smirk as you did, he then placed a hand over your hips, putting on a little force, to keep you on on the bed as he went back to kiss you. As he continued to suck, you started to lose control of yourself again, battling against his hand in an attempt to buckle your hips onto his mouth, but his hold was strong, so instead you lowered your hands and inter winded them onto his hair, pressing him down on you, he all but groaned as you did so and then placed one of his fingers inside of you, curling it and moving it around as he got you ready for the next part. 

Another suck and you were on cloud 9, feeling the familiar tension build up so much, you felt like you’d blow up “Jamie, I think I’m gonna, ah-“ you trailed off as he sucked. 

“Cum for me baby,” he whispered, “cum all over my face.” 

 And you did, moaning his name as you buckled your hips against his face, he had released his tight grip on you, and you could feel his smile against you again, he continued to move his hand over you, his thumb had replaced his mouth, and he was just staring at you with a lustful expression as you rode his hand though your high. He was just enjoying the view, the little fucker. 

When you finally relaxed, your breaths were heavy, lips red and parted from biting on them, and he couldn’t help himself, and went back straight for a kiss, to your lips, this time around. You could taste yourself on him, and there was something about knowing that it was you who he’d been down on that made your arousal start again. You buckled your hips against him, your sex lightly brushing against his hard cock as you did “I’m not gonna fucking last if you keep teasing me like that.” He reproached. 

“I don’t care, baby, come on!” You said as you buckled your hips again. He looked at you another time, before nodding. He used his hand to bring your underwear down and discarded it somewhere. He leaned in to kiss your neck as he traced his tip over your slit. You buckled your hips against him again, causing his skin to move up and down and he gripped the bedsheets around your face tight, “Stop teasing Jemmie…” 

And he did, with a long and sharp thrust, he was balls deep inside you. You gasped, James always took his time to get in, he really must be desperate. Regardless of his own needs, James stayed like that for a second, relishing on the sensation before you tightened yourself around him “…fuck…” he all but whispered, “You know I love it when you do thaaaaa–t,” his last word coming out strained since you’d done it again. And then you buckled your hips against him, signalling he could start. 

Long, slow trust at first, taking himself almost completely out before going back in, over and over again. At some point, he lifted himself from your neck and started to look at you, and then back down at your breasts, as he thrusted in and out he used one of his hands to softly trace over the valley of them, right where the lace ended. He was teasing you, you realized when his fingers traced just around your nipples, not daring to touch them. You used your hand to place his against your breast, nodding as you had him cup it, he smiled cheekily at your reaction and finally dragged the lacey fabric down, exposing your beautiful breasts. He pinched and twisted them softly, making you moan his name and tighten your walls sound him as he did. He was enjoying the view, and how could he not? You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, from the shine in your eyes, your pink lips from biting down your moans all the way to your tight little cunt.

“Fuck me! you’re so tight,” he praised, and you buckled your hips against him in response. 

“It’s what I’m doing baby,” you responded, and he started to pick up the pace, faster, shorter thrusts, he dragged his hand down and started to rub your clit, gently pressing his hand over it a couple of times before starting to circle it a lot faster. He was about to cum, he only did that when he wanted you to cum along with him. You buckled your hips against him, and you were already being dragged over the edge by this boy, you relished on the feeling, you started seeing white, and roughly gripped his thick forearm, not realizing the way your nails had dug onto him. 

James didn’t realize it either, he was too preoccupied looking at your face, trying to carve on his brain the expression you had on your face, you looked so stunning as the pleasure drew over your face, short breaths, brows furrowed for a second before opening your eyes back up to look at him, you smiled softly, and that was all it took for him to come all over you with a deep moan. Thrusting getting sloppy as he continued to move until he was completely emptied. James Potter placed a soft kiss on your mouth before gently, and softly pulling himself out of you, you almost complained, missing the way he had been filling you up so perfectly. You felt his cum drip down your legs as he lay on the side, he pulled his wand from the side of the bed and cleaned you up with a little wave of it. 

“And here I thought nothing would top last year's birthday when you said you’d be my girlfriend,” he said, breaths still heavy as the two of you stared at the top of the bed. You smiled at his words, and then sat on the bed, starting to try and spot your undies, but Merlin knows where James had thrown them too. “Hey!” He said, dragging you down on the bed when he realized what you were doing “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Clothes…” you said, as he pulled you into his chest. 

“No clothes–“  

“–But James…” you started to argue. 

“Let me finish,” he whispered sternly “No clothes… yet.” You turned to him, eyes opened wide in surprise, “You’re the one that said we had all night.” He replied afterwards. 

“But you already…” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, and motioned down to his cock, which was starting to twitch again “…but darling, you look absolutely charming tonight.”  

A/N: this is my second smut piece ever, and holly shit it got out of hand, when I checked my word count I had already written like 3k words of pure SMUT, I was shocked. But, positive side is, I feel like I'm finally getting the hang of it? The Five Senses was born as a way for me to practice writing smut for my brand new Wolfstar x Reader series that's currently being posted on a weekly basis. If you have feedback, please leve it in the comment below. I absolutely love reading your comments <3

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[lovebugism]

can i request something with a reader who’s just really into steve’s scoops ahoy uniform?

hi, my love! thanks so much for your request!! what better way to celebrate july 4th (aka stranger things 3 day) than by commemorating steve harrington in his scoops ahoy uniform? tw for smut mdni!! (2.1k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

When Steve told you he got a job slinging ice cream at the mall downtown, you didn’t think much of it. 

In fact, you spent the better part of that conversation comforting him. It was an existential crisis of sorts, wherein he’d spun himself into a panic about not going to college, not being successful, and not providing for you in the way that partners are supposed to. 

You figured it was a bruise to the ego more than anything — especially with his asshole father constantly looming over his shoulder. A steady reminder of what he could’ve been in ways more daunting than just one.

But then he showed you the Scoops Ahoy mandated uniform, held it in his hands with all the boyish reluctance of a child. According to him, the bright blue sailor’s outfit was the most dehumanizing thing of it all. It even came with its own stupid hat. 

You were so turned on by the idea of him wearing it, you forgot you were supposed to be consoling him. You quickly forgot why the job was ever a bad idea in the first place. Steve, albeit a bit confused by your sudden giddiness, was more excited to go into work the following Monday when he knew you were visiting him the first chance you got.

You’re practically skipping when you walk into Scoops, skirt swishing around your thighs. It was later in the morning, which meant business was relatively slow. There’s an older couple sharing a sundae at one of the booths, but other than that, you’re the only customer in the store.

Steve stands at the register with a smile on his face he doesn’t know is there. He’s been a real grouch all morning, but he’s forgotten why at the sight of you.

You beam at him, propping your elbows on the counter and putting your chin in your hands. “Do the line,” you gush.

His chest inflates with a deep breath in, then deflates with a sharp exhale. You don’t even notice that it’s a sigh of annoyance at first, too focused on the scarlet tie around his shoulders and the tufts of chest hair peeking out from the top of it.

“Ahoy, sweetheart,” he greets, still grinning despite his lack of enthusiasm. He tilts his head to his shoulder and recites his line: “‘Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me today? I’ll be your captain’— How was that?” 

“Even better in uniform,” you marvel in a lilt. Then you squint at him. “I better be the only customer you’re using that sweetheart line on, though, Harrington.”

Steve scoffs like the thought of saying it to anyone else is appalling. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person in the world I’ve ever called sweetheart, sweetheart.”

“Good. I plan on it staying that way.”

The boy smiles to himself. 

He likes when you get all possessive. Maybe because he spent the majority of his past relationships having to be the jealous one — always worried about never being good enough, being left. He likes how confident he is in the fact that you only have eyes for him. Even if he is wearing a stupid sailor’s uniform. 

“What do you what, huh?” the boy asks as he pulls out his metal scoop from the apron tied around his hips. “Choco-mint with chocolate sprinkles?”

He’s already spooning the green ice cream onto a cone for you before you say a word. You like that you never have to tell him what you want, that he knows you like the back of his hand already. 

“Ooh. He looks good in a sailor’s outfit, and he’s attentive?” you singsong lowly. “I think you might be a keeper, Steve Harrington.”

The boy rolls his eyes as he turns away from you. He walks to the opposite wall, where several containers of variously colored sprinkles sit in a large tub. When he bends over to smother your cone in the chocolate kind, the white hem of his shorts climbs up his thighs. You almost forget to breathe.  

Steve turns around to catch you staring. You don’t even blink.

“Stop ogling at me,” he laughs with pink cheeks. “It’s getting weird, babe.”

Your brows pinch. “Why is it weird to look at my boyfriend?”

“Because your boyfriend looks like an idiot. Like, this should not be turning you on, sweetheart.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Stevie,” you shrug with a whimsical sigh.

He meets your smirk with a half-hearted scowl and passes you the ice cream cone. When your tongue darts out to taste it, his brain malfunctions for a moment. “Seriously, babe,” he scoffs when his senses return to him. “What about any of this is attractive to you?”

Your head tilts as you scan his muscular form, looking far more boyish than usual in his flamboyant uniform. “Well, for starters, those ankle socks are strangely sexy—”

Steve snorts at the offbeat start to your list.

“—And your thighs look delectable in those shorts. Your arms do, too. You’ve been working out so much, they barely fit in those sleeves,” you compliment. The corner of your mouth quirks into a half-smile as your eyes flit up to his hair. “Also, something about the hat and ascot combo is really doing it for me.”

Robin comes out of the break room then. The door swishes back and forth. “You could’ve just said everything and be done with it,” she grouses as she clumsily sits her white cap on her head.

She looks about as grumpy as Steve, like something about the linoleum tile and fluorescent lighting is sucking the lives out of the two of them.

“Don’t worry. You look hot too, Buckley,” you promise with a smirk.

Her head tilts sweetly to the side as she musters a grin of her own. “Thank you.”

You turn back to Steve with an expectant gaze. “When do you go on break again?”

He twists his wrist to check his watch as you take another lick of your ice cream cone. 

Robin answers for him. “Now, preferably.”

“What?” the boy asks with furrowed brows. “I still have, like, fifteen minutes left.”

“Just go fuck and get it over with,” she groans, ocean-blue eyes wide and pleading. “I can practically smell the sexual tension radiating off both of you.”

Steve wants to argue, but you only smile. You nod your head towards the exit. “C’mon, sailor.”

He has no choice but to follow behind you. He’s been doing it for years now, and you haven’t disappointed him once. You lead him by his hand through the bustling mall, chucking your half-eaten cone into the bin when you reach the entrance.

Steve isn’t surprised when you wind up at his car in the employee parking section. He swirls with a boyish excitement, anyway. 

Everything feels so new with you. 

Even the things he’s done a thousand times.

Including, but not limited to, fucking you in the backseat of his car.

You’re on him the second you shut the door behind you. Your skirt bunches at your hips as you straddle his thighs, kissing him with the intent to swallow him whole.

Steve’s hands are limp at his sides in shock. It leaves you doing most of the work yourself, pulling down his blue shorts and gray underwear in one fell swoop. You tuck the hem of them beneath his heavy balls and half-hard cock.

His head falls back against the seat when you start fisting him completely stiff.

You twist your wrist in the way you know he likes — squeezing him towards the top before falling to the stem of his cock again. Your thumb swipes over his bulbous head to collect the pearly pre-come beading there. 

If you had enough room in the backseat of his Beamer, you might’ve forgone the sex entirely and just taken him into your mouth right then.

Steve’s rosy mouth falls agape to billow pretty little moans for you. You tug on the red tie around his neck to get his attention again. His glazed-over, honey eyes flutter open to find your smirking face. 

“Can I take a ride on your ocean of flavor, Stevie?” you tease with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“It’s ‘set sail,’ but yeah— shit,” he swears when your thumb grazes his leaking tip again. “Of course, you can, sweetheart…”

With his consent, you grip the bottom of his cock, pushing your panties to the side to line him with your pulsating entrance. He might’ve asked if you wanted a little preparation first, but when his silky head grazes your satin walls, he knows you’re more than wet.

Your pussy’s already drooling all over him, and he isn’t even inside you yet. 

The both of you exhale low moans when you finally slip him within you. Your walls are warm and wet — the softest velvet imaginable, and perfectly snug around his achingly hard cock. You keep your fingers wrapped around the tie on his chest, using it for leverage as you grind your hips back and forth over his thighs. 

Steve goes pussy drunk almost instantly, babbling like crazy at the feeling of your cunt sucking him further and further inside of you.

“Oh, my fucking god, baby,” he moans, the words sounding stiff as they spill from his tightening throat. “You feel so good. So tight, too— Shit. Pussy’s drooling all over me, sweetheart.”

He can’t see you from this angle — can’t see the way your dripping cunt takes him so well or the way your ass glides perfectly over his heavy balls. But he can picture it, can feel your slick drenching his pubic hair and happy trail.

He so desperately wishes it were possible to fuck you with his cock and have you ride his face at the same time. His mouth waters at the thought of tasting you.

But this is good for now. 

This is perfect.

With the energy he’s got left from his drifting senses, he grips the plush of your ass. He spreads your flesh apart, and the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin makes you clench around him. He almost loses it, then — when the smacking of your thighs and the wet squelch of your drenched pussy fills the small car, going slowly cloudy with your entwining heavy breaths.

“You’re so hot, Stevie,” you manage through labored pants. Your heavy-lidded gaze threatens to close, but you don’t want to stop looking at the boy below you. You want to commit all his features to memory — his pink kiss-bitten mouth, reddened cheeks, and honeyed eyes. You want the image of his fucked-out features to stain your mind forever.

“God, babe,” he sighs breathlessly, a moan mixed with a soft laugh. “I still don’t— I really don’t get it, sweetheart.”

“Are you seriously complaining?” you smirk as you glide your hips over his thighs again. 

Your swollen clit catches the polyester of the bottom of his shirt. You swear your eyes cross as your mouth opens in a low keen.

When your pussy clenches at the ethereal feeling, his cock jerk within your tightening velvet. Both of you are nearing your orgasms full throttle now. You can almost taste the sweet vanilla of your climax.

“No. Fuck no, I’m not complaining,” he assures with a shake of his head. “You’re just really fucking confusing and really fucking hot... Fuck—”

His head falls back again, exposing the golden tendons of his neck. You’d bite at them if you could stop looking at him. You smile even though he’s not looking at you — even though your thighs are burning and your knee is digging into the seat belt latch. “I can’t wait to fuck you when you get off.”

“Yeah?” he hums, eyes still halfway closed.

“Yeah,” you repeat with a nod, still rocking against his lap while his cock rubs relentlessly at the deepest parts of you. Your clit catches his shirt with every pass of your hips, sending a white-hot feeling of nearly unbearable pleasure shooting up your spine. “So I can get a real good look at you while you fuck me in this uniform.”

Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his jaw clenches. He tries not to come at the sound of your voice and how the words spill like honey from your mouth. 

Despite the less-than-ideal location — at the edges of a mostly empty lot — he doesn’t want this to be over quite yet. He wants to feel you gush on his cock over and over and over again. He’s afraid he won’t be able to focus on work until you do.

If he knew that slinging ice cream for three dollars an hour in a stupid sailor’s outfit would drive you this crazy, he would’ve dropped out of school and put in an application forever ago.