#he looks so naked w/o the paint

[sims2veronaville]

tanker truck

#sims 2 fanart #tank grunt #strangetown #he looks so naked w/o the paint #hes quite cute though. i just want to sit him down and tell him he's fucking up his entire life #this is all the old art i have... now im gonna have to actually draw more things #not tonight though i have a paper due in 4 hours. 1000 words and i have 150 rn 🫡🫡 #ts2 tag #art tag

[solarisensun]

OKAY what about big brother Suguru and his weird friend Satoru who sits a little too close and let's his touches linger a little too long. Suguru-nii's friend who insists you call him Nii-chan too because he's over at your place so much he's basically your brother anyway. "O-Okay... Nii-chan." you whisper as he pulls you in for another hug.

You tell Suguru you don't really like how touchy he is but he ignores your worries. "He's just friendly." or "He just loves you as much as I do." You learn to avoid Satoru as often as you can.

But it's impossible to remove your self proclaimed brother from your life. In fact, he gets more and more overbearing.

Until one day you wake up naked with Satoru inbetween your legs kissing all up from between your thighs, over your stomach and to your face. You scream for Suguru who enters with a sigh, berating Satoru for waking you up so suddenly.

You start to struggle but you're tied to the bed. You realise you don't recognise the room at all, it's dark and covered in photos of you that you never knew were taken. Photos of you sleeping, in the bathroom, out of friends. Clothes you're missing, panties that had disappeared, all presented around the room.

Now they can protect you from all the weirdos on the outside forever in their secret hideout. ❤️

warnings: step-incest, NSFW, noncon, yandere themes (whats new), i got a little carried away w this

suguru appears to be the lesser of two evils. whilst your new brother is aloof and stoic, you appreciate the fact that he keeps to himself most of the time. though you often feel scrutinized under his cold, calculating gaze, suguru has never once overstepped his boundaries.

the same cannot be said for his best friend.

to say that gojo satoru makes you uncomfy is the least of your worries. initially, you'd brushed off his hugs as nothing more but an attribute to his outgoing personality. but that doesn't explain the casual kisses he presses to your cheek- close enough that his lips brush the corner of your mouth, his bold fingers toying with your collar, the hem of your skirt, the occasional explicit picture that somehow 'accidentally' slides into your messages at 3am.

and the fact that he'd squeeze your cheeks between his fingers until you give him a meek 'nii-chan'

after weeks of putting up with gojo's antics, you finally muster up the courage to knock on your brother's door. suguru is as unmoving as a rock as you tell him about gojo. the more you blabber on, the more insignificant you feel under your brother's narrow gaze.

suguru simply shrugs when you are done with your tale. one look into his dark gaze tells you that you will gain no sympathy here. "gojo has always been friendlier than most." he waves a hand in the air to dismiss your concerns. "you're reading too much into it."

"besides, what would you have me do?" suguru questions pointedly as his gaze hardens. "tell him off like he's a kid?" his voice is filled with irritation. 

“i-” you begin. “he’s harmless,” suguru cuts in before you can finish. “are we done? i have matters to deal with.” 

immediately, you shrivel up. the hurt look on your face causes suguru’s glare to soften just the slightest bit. “don’t worry about gojo.” in a rare moment of softness, suguru tucks your hair behind your ear. the whisper of his fingertips against your cheek prompts a shiver to run down your spine. the dark look in suguru’s eyes is indiscernable. “i’ll talk to him about it.” 

the next day, gojo corners you against the wall the moment you dare to step out of your room. before you can even flinch, both his arms have closed around you, keeping you boxed under him and left with no choice but to stare into his crystalline blues.

"heard you ran your mouth about me yesterday," gojo muses. immediately, your breath hitches at the implication behind his words. "painted me out to be a nasty pervert, didn't you?"

"n-no!" you shake your head frantically. "i didn't say that."

"yeah?" gojo cocks his head with a grin that's a little too wide. "that's not what i heard. you really hurt my feelings you know. don't you know that i've always protected you like my lil sister?"

all sense of bravado that you'd embodied yesterday fades into thin air the moment gojo leans in. "you gotta make it up to me," he tells you in gleeful tone that doesn't sound the slightest bit hurt.

"how?" you ask wobbly, anything to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

gojo smiles down at you. "give me a kiss."

when you lean in to peck his cheek, he tuts you. "on the lips, darling."

"what?"

the stunned look on your face prompts gojo to sigh. without warning, without permission, his long fingers cup around your chin and he angles his head down to press his lips against yours. despite your pathetic attempts to pull free, gojo simply takes your muffled whimpers and the way your fingers fist around his shirt as a sign to lean even further down. 

it almost felt as if he needed the breath that you were holding, like it belonged to him. there was nothing gentle about the way your back slams against the wall as gojo takes your face between his large hands. dimly, you register a low groan that rumbles at the back of his throat before he pulls away. 

looking at him scares you. the way his pupils have been blown out so wide that you can see your own distorted reflection in them. the imprint of his fingers seem to burn into your skin. 

he lets out a little breathless laugh, the grip around your face tightens like he’s restraining himself from doing anything more. “that was a kiss that i wanted.” 

you flinch when gojo leans in closer, half expecting something to happen again. instead, he merely whispers into your ear, “see you tomorrow night.” 

#thirst hours #jjk thirsts #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #🍳. satoru #🍳. suguru

[dreamofjoys]

Malleus taking his beloved to a beautiful forest and fucking near the flowers 🌸

scenario: s/o taking a walk in the forest with malleus at a friday night. midway through the walk, malleus starts fucking his s/o

characters involved: malleus draconia x fem s/o

tw: public sex , unprotected sex, cum, cum tasting

“s/o, you are as tight as ever.” malleus groans into your ear, pulling your hips closer to his pelvic bone as he slam his dick into you. you cried out, clawing onto his biceps, gripping onto him tightly so that you won’t fall apart.

malleus appears to be in a good mood today. you suppose is because he was finally invited to the dorm leader meeting, and even got the chance to attend the mini banquet held by kalim. after that, you and malleus would meet at 10pm and proceed to your usual night walk.

it was suppose to be just a normal night walk, with you holding his hand, exploring any ancient grounds that he would teleport the both of you to, you sharing your day with him while he does the same. today was no exception. he had brought you to the forest behind ramshackle dorm, admiring the field of roses that you and him had planted in the middle of it.

perhaps malleus’s mood appear to be too good that day. the tension got a little sexual when malleus eagerly push you down on the floor, hovering on top of you as he takes a strand of your hair, twirling it around his finger.

“can i fuck you here? beside this roses that we had planted. i just thought you would look absolutely beautiful, being sprawled naked under me while i fuck you beside the flowers that we had both worked hard to nurture it.”

that question has led you back to your current predicament, with malleus harshly thrusting into your pussy, earning a wanton of moans from you. your clothes were long gone, being scattered a metre away from you. malleus was still wearing his dorm uniform, only unzipping his pants to free his throbbing cock and inserting it into you. with his large figure and long cape, it was enough to completely envelope you, preventing anyone from seeing you; other than malleus who was directly staring down at your exposed self.

“w-what if some-someone comes?”

“they wouldn’t dare.” malleus increases his pace as he feel your gummy walls convulsing around him rapidly, a sign that you are coming.

“they know better than to look at what’s mine.” malleus rolls his hips, pressing his dick onto your cervix as the both of you came together, painting each other white. your eyes were rolled back, muttering a small fuck at how good the release is. your body was slightly shaking from the release, and also being naked in the cold night air.

malleus noticed the little goosebumps forming on your skin, finally realising that you were cold with no clothes on;while he was still fully clothed, only his zipper was unzipped.

he pulls out of you, leaving you whine at the sudden loss of him. you look so vulnerable right now, being stripped naked with your legs opening wide. his dick mere inches away from your cunt as he watch the sticky substance drooling out of your hole. your breast bounces slightly as you pant, trying to catch your breath. malleus raised his right hand and plucked one of the roses from the bush. he cut off the thorns with magic and placed the rose on the left side of your ear. your face was flushed red and your rosy lips is just screaming at him to kiss you right now.

“absolutely gorgeous.” malleus breathes out, feeling proud that the masterpiece that was displayed in front of him is all his.

“mal mal, im cold…” you shivered, trying to cover your body with your hands as malleus muttered a small apology.

he helps you to dress up while sitting you down on his lap. before that, his finger went down to scoop up a little bit cum that leaked out of you, placing it in his mouth as he savour the taste of the both of you. “tasty. you and i, we are definitely matchmake in heaven.” he commented while you pout. your small fist hitting onto his shoulder, scolding him for being so flirty; cause it drives your heart a little crazier for him.

malleus only laughs as he scoop you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style while walking back to ramshackle. at times like this, he prefers to enjoy the silent night with you rather then teleporting back.

you loop your arms around malleus’s neck, placing your forehead on his right temple. “are you staying over tonight?” you asked malleus as he turns his head to kiss you on the lips. “of course. ill wash you up first and prepare some snacks for you. then, we can cuddle on the bed and do whatever you want.”

“hehe, what if i want to go for a second round?”

malleus’s eyes darken a little.

“that can be arranged.”

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #imagines #y/n #diasomnia #dreamofjoystwst #malleus x yu #malleus smut #twst smut #smut #twst malleus draconia #twst malleus

[dreamersparacosm]

[ GAZE ]  our muses are having sex in missionary and the one on the bottom tells them to slow down so they can just look at them for a few moments. 

^^THIS ONE W AUSTIN AND READER IS ON BOTTOM OMG PLS

nsfw!

note ; making love to austin :((( my warm king i know he smells like cashmere i just need him so bad

warnings ; penetration ?? like they’re having sex lmao

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

austin butler did not make love.

that’s the thing about it: he’s fucked girls, ruined them until they begged for more, left them during the darkest hours of the night to spare them the burden of getting attached to someone who didn’t exist.

he liked his way of living, thought the career he chose didn’t allow him the luxury of falling in love with someone. thought it was a massive waste of time, especially when he was so intent on climbing the ladder of success. he didn’t know how bad he needed it, needed you, needed to make love, until the first time he got to experience that.

and in your bed, under sheets that smell like lavender and traces of you, he lets himself make love to you. lets himself take his time, makes sure it’s perfect for both you and him. realizes that he was missing out all along. he’s gentle, careful, like he’s not sure how to proceed as if he’s never seen another naked girl in his lifetime.

you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes, and he’s scared that he’ll break you, too fast and you’ll shatter onto the bed like a vase tipping over a ledge.

he was the only one who would ever be able to ruin you, make you feel good. no man had ever touched you before — it used to make you feel small, insecure, but austin was nothing short of reassuring. there was a small part of him that relished in that knowledge, that no one would ever have you the way he gets to.

the thrusts are slow, a pace that is so loving he convinces himself that time stops, as if someone poured glue in between the hands of the clock. feels himself stretching you out, small whimpers of pain and pleasure falling from your lips. he bottoms out inside you, letting his pelvis rest against yours, searching your eyes for a sign of regret. “you okay, baby?” the pad of his thumb runs over your cheek bone.

you can hardly speak, let alone formulate one coherent thought. you feel so full — full of adoration, full of his cock, full of him. the urgency of his question is noted but you can’t think, you’re even finding it hard to breathe in a room that is so well air-conditioned it’s like the arctic. “y-yes. i’m okay, i’m good.”

he kisses your nose, reaching down to hoist your leg around his waist. you moan at the feeling of him reaching a spot you didn’t even know existed. he’s looking at you with those bright blue eyes, but they’re not darkened with lust or desire or some other lewd thought. they’re painted with an undying love, something that felt so foreign yet so right to him.

he slowly, carefully, like a steady trickle of water leaking down a faucet, moves inside of you, lets you adjust to the feeling. he pulls himself out completely, slowly inserting back into your entrance that is soaking wet, from the foreplay and the tension that’s so thick in the room a knife wouldn’t even be able to cut it. his hips fall into a steady rhythm, thrusting as he presses sloppy kisses over your face, your lips, your shoulder. he’s lost in a haze, drunken by the effects of how good and how tight you are around him. and then he’s whimpering, groaning, speaking senseless babble into the void as your nails claw down his back. “you’re my best girl. my good girl, fuck, angel, you feel so damn good. can’t get enough of this pussy.”

it’s a foreign sound: skin slapping, spew of profanities and curses flying from your lips, the sound of your juices squelching with each thrust. you let out a moan, a mewl that causes him to stare into your eyes, so turned on he might combust in you within the next second. “o-oh my god,” you drawl out between each plunge of his cock, eyes connecting with his for a mere second.

you’re just moaning, a pathetic little mess under his body as his thrusts become more forceful, like he’s chasing a release he never has before. he whispers into your shoulder iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou, his brain consumed with thoughts of your pussy and the wetness and the way your needy walls suck around the girth of his length.

you don’t care about how fast he’s going, that’s not the issue, but you’re almost scared of losing the moment, like it won’t engrain in your brain at this pace. “w-wait,” you say, bottom lip tucked under your teeth.

as if you screamed bloody murder, he stops, stills himself inside you while his face contorts in fear. “are you okay? are you hurt? do you want me to stop —“

“i’m fine, baby,” your fingers reach out to caress his face, look deep into those big blue eyes, the reason you fell so undeniably hard for him. “go slow. just wanna look at you for a few moments.”

austin butler did not make love; but in that moment, in that room, he was certain he would never do anything else for as long as he lived.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you for joining my celly! requests are now closed.

#answered #anon #angelina’s 3.5k celly #austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin butler angst #austin butler blurb #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler smut #austin butler gif

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Pretty boy

February Filth Fest : Day Four

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: i feel the need to put a disclaimer? i don't think makeup or clothes or anything have a gender but for the sake of fan fiction: hwa puts on more traditional feminine stuff and gets all pretty 🤭

i have no idea why tumblr posted this earlier than i set it for but it's here now so enjoy 😭

"Tell me, tell me I'm pretty."

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents:

not edited, feminization, sub hwa, protected(!!!!) cockwarming & penetration, pet names (pretty, mars, sweetheart & babe, angel), praise

tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

"Doing so good," you praise as you turn your torso and grab your favorite eyeshadow pallet from the vanity. "So patient for me."

"T-Thank you, Angel."

Seonghwa is gripping the arm rests of his chair like it owes him money. Looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile on his painted lips. He's doing everything in his power to be good for you. Everything in his power not to buck up into the warmth of your cunt as it hugs him: unmoving.

You dip a small brush into a light color and tell him to close his eyes. He obeys. He always does. Although, he takes a moment to glance at your naked chest before doing so. "Thank youuu." You take a moment to admire him. His lips are a beautiful, deep pink color. He's wearing his favorite earring of yours. He's dressed in a dress you got just for him, hiked up just above his hips. It's plain, really. But he's so beautiful that he doesn't need anything extravagant.

You peck his eyelid gently before continuing to do his makeup. He jumps a little at the unexpected feeling, accidentally rocking inside of you. You brace yourself on his shoulder with a hiss, biting back a moan as he hits your g-spot. "Hey!"

"Sorry, Babe... you scared me." The both of you laugh a bit before you steady his head with a hand cupping his chin. You feel his cock twitching ever so slightly, even through the condom.

After painting his eyes, you purposely rock your hips back as you grab a liquid eyeliner. You smirk at him as he gives you a pair of puppy eyes. "Finishing touches, Pretty. Don't worry. We're almost done." You draw a little cat line out from his eyes and lean back to take in your work.

"How do I look?" His eyes search your face for any signs of approval, finding them all over as your eyes dilate wider than before and your lips turn up.

"So pretty," you rock your hips on his and he frantically grabs onto you. "My pretty boy."

"Please-" you wait for him as he gathers his words, "please, can I fuck you?" With the smallest nod of your head, he's lifting his hips and fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "God!"

"Oh," you moan, cupping his face in your hands. He's so cute like this. All done up and needy for you. "Fuck me so good, Mars. So big."

The praise goes straight to his head, filling him with a euphoric buzz. All he can do is buck up into you and stare into your eyes and moan for you. "Te- shit- tell me, tell me I'm pretty."

You coo, kissing his neck and mumbling into it, "you are. The prettiest. My Pretty. My good, pretty, boy. My big, beautiful, Mars." The moan that comes from him is almost a yell, his grip tightening with a bruising force as he lifts you up and down on his cock. "Pretty boy fucks me so good."

"Babe, can you... wanna- good god! Please!"

"What do you want, Sweetheart? Take a breath and tell me..." You intertwine your fingers with his curled hair, making him lean his head back and stopping his ranting effectively.

"Please, Angel, kiss me."

You tug on his hair and ask him, "and ruin your makeup?"

"Yes! Don't care, I need you to kiss me! I need it-"

You cut him off with your lips on his and you roughly mesh together, both moaning as he grabs onto your ass. He slips his tongue into your mouth and lets you do as you please with it- taking it all.

When you pull away, his lipstick is now also yours, smeared messily on the both of your lips.

"So messy, Mars."

"Sorry." No he's not. He got what he wanted and he still has you bouncing on him, bringing him ever closer to his climax.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. Still so pretty."

#february filth fest #park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #ateez #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #smut fic

[goodboyriddler]

can you do that one cuote: "were you just masturbating?" with Klitz?

in my head (lol) the reader teaes Klitz bc he was horny, so that makes him ten times hornier than before

hope you're okay with my idea, thank you for doing this!

I loove teasing klitz. National sport. A little something w some humiliation because popular reader loves watching the nerdy guy squirm <3

"Are you like...naked underneath there?"

"N-No!" Klitz shifts in his bed, his glasses fogging up as he tries to get the bedsheets up to his chin. He sees you standing, hands on your hips while piercing eyes look down at him.

"Oh, really? Then why don't you come out from there so we can do the project."

You grin and walk closer to the edge of the bed, the short skirt and tight top you decided to wear, for some reason on a night study, fluttering by the movement. You had been paired up with Klitz by your teacher for the group project, and he thought he had hit the jackpot spending time with someone like you. But now he actually thinks he might fucked up.

Your hand slowly grabs the sheet before playfully pulling it. It's not enough to make it move but Klitz yelps, scrambling back into the headboard with the sheet and sits with his knees pressed against his chest.

"I am not naked, o-okay!" Klitz can feel his hard cock twitch from where it rests in his naked thigh. "But if you could, um, please go to the bathroom for a little while, I need to get... ready."

A smile forms on your lips as you jump in your heels excitedly, pointing at him accusingly.

"You are totally naked underneath there!" You giggle delighted, and Klitz covers his face with his palms.

Oh god he wants to die of embarrassment. And why is he getting harder? Your soft laugh makes him squirm and make his hot skin prickle. It should be the opposite right? But behind his fingers he can see your eyes roam through his covered body like you could see how his cock is leaking right now.

"Y-you said to meet at 6pm! And you didn't even knock!" Klitz tries to sound upset but you sit on the bed instead and the words die on his throat.

Thighs crossed and amused smiled on your glossy lips as you rest your chin to watch him. You're so close to him, practically next to him and he can see your tight top and soft skin from here. Your nails running up and down his covered chest.

"Where you just jerking off or something?" You whisper jokingly as if it was a secret, your eyes crinkle in amusement. "Before I came in?"

Klitz shifts again on the mattress, trying to avoid your gaze, his long hair moving as he does. Your hand in his chest makes him stutter. You can see the blush in his high cheekbones spread on his pale neck.

You don't need his confirmation because you're laughing again, mumbling oh my god you were! You hadn't had this so much fun in forever. Certainly not from the cute nerdy guy who always was watching you with that lost puppy look. Secretly asking your professor if you could pair you up with him was worth it. You had only planned for a good grade and to tease him through the night, a brush of your leg or a touch on his arm. Not this! Oh you're going to have so much fun.

"Let me help you." You say.

"W-what?" Klitz must be hallucinating or in some kind of fucked up nightmare that has him harder than he had ever been. His eyes widen but you continue.

"You're acting all weird. We can't start our project like that." You said matter of fact, your pretty painted nails playing with a fistful of bedsheets. "The quickly we get this over with, the quickly we can start and I can go, right?"

You shrug as if this is the most normal thing in the world. And you try to look uninterested, looking around, and you can hear how Klitz is thinking so hard about it.

"Okay." He says almost too quiet after a while, and he looks surprised by his words like you do.

"Yeah?"

Klitz shyly nods.

You smirk, moving closer, your arms resting on the sides of his torso as you lean in.

"Can I kiss you?"

Klitz exhales.

"Y-yeah."

You giggle before you press your lips into his.

Klitz gives a low moan, and he looks embarrassed by it, but you just laugh pressing yourself harder, one hand going to cradle his chin. He's clearly inexperienced but the sloppy enthusiastic kisses are welcomed as you slide your tongue into his. Your nails run through his scalp, moving his head back as you start to shift until you're stranding him in his lap.

"Where you thinking about me?" You say now on top of him, starting to slowly move your ass into his covered cock. "When you where jerking off?"

Klitz whines, his whole body shaking as he starts to nod, his head thrashing on the pillows.

"Y-Yes." He pants, his hands coming out from the bedsheets just to grip your thighs in each side of his hips.

He had been stroking himself before you had bursted into the room, thinking about your soft thighs. Your pretty hands wrapped around his cock instead of his. Your pretty mouth in that lipstick sucking him off, tongue running through his veins, as you told him that he was such a creep for staring all the time at you, and you might as well do him a favour.

"Such a pervert, is that what you think everytime you see me at school?"

You see the flushing freckled skin in his arms and chest, how he struggles to keep his eyes open everytime you rub harder into him. His hips stutter a little, trying to get more friction.

"I- I do." Klitz has seen you with too short skirts, low tops, or tight jeans that's surely by now should gotten you dress coded. How he would fluster when you winked at him or told him yeah, Klitz you need something? when you caught him looking at you.

"Guess what, Klitzy." You grab his face between your hands, your fingers combing the long hair away that had fallen into his face. "I do to."

You giggle before kissing him again, his time your mouth descends to his neck and he arches from the mattress. It doesn't take him long to finish with a high-pitched moan in your mouth as he shivers. The sheet underneath you staining with his cum and he pants harshly, going totally limp.

"Okay, now get ready," You give him a little pat in his shoulder as you get up from his lap. "We really need to finish that protect. If we get a good grade I might reward you later."

#paul dano #klitz x reader #klitz the girl next door #paul dano x reader #klitz #the girl next door #blurb bday

[mlobsters]

supernatural s1e4 phantom traveler (w. richard hatem)

another early reaction report to watching spn lol

what's so funny to me too is that like. this show is very low on skin overall. seeing half naked leg is downright scandalous on the scale of what we ever see of them through 15 years. they keep very thoroughly covered almost all the time! meanwhile the show i'd fixated on before this, teen wolf, those boys were shirtless constantly (except stiles. never stiles)

ps i've had it on my sort of floating to-do list to, at some point, paint that ever so shocking full length view with the 2/3 naked leg

s1e4 paul jarrett as george phelps / the fall of the house of usher s1e7 as doctor donaldson

airport man, paul jarrett, has been in a lot of stuff i've seen. (supposedly?) twilight eclipse (aka the one with the very bad bella wig), the xfiles, the killing, the fall of the house of usher most recently... god i just wasted a solid 30 minutes trying to find documentation of any/all that

demon as particles that went into the eyes instead of smoke in the mouth, wild early days

s1e4 as jaime ray newman as amanda / the magicians s3e10 as irene mcallister

too many people :S she's also been in a lot of bigger stuff but the recurring part on magicians hey-o

i'll spare them a screenshot of the bad visual effects on the airplane

picked spanish captions first accidentally, that's sweet. cariño for good morning, sunshine (an endearment that's like honey/sweetheart)

DEAN Did you get any sleep last night? SAM Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours. DEAN Liar. 'Cause I was up at three, and you were watching a George Foreman infomercial. SAM Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV. DEAN When was the last time you got a good night's sleep? SAM I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal. DEAN Yeah, it is. SAM Look, I appreciate your concern— DEAN Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.

not concerned, my ass :p but an additional concern that he can't do the job (or even drive safely or be a functioning human) with no sleep

DEAN Seriously, are you still having nightmares about Jess? SAM Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you. DEAN You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that. SAM So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night? Never? You're never afraid? DEAN No, not really. SAM reaches under DEAN'S pillow to pull out a large hunting knife and holds it up as evidence. DEAN That's not fear. That is precaution. SAM All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue.

LOL, good call, sam. not buying he never gets scared either. savoring the brotherly chat in the beautiful (albeit dark) lighting

JERRY Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time. SAM He did?

shitty way of showing it there, john. tell him you walk out and stay gone, and no contact since. but he's proud! grinds my gears :p dean lookin over to sam like, see??? fucking JOHN. ugh! lol

JERRY Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh? SAM No, not by a long shot.

oh, sam.

brian markinson (as jerry panowski here talking to salmon dean) has been in a lot my stuff and in fact i did a hey i know you when he was amelia's dad in the fuzzy brightly lit flashbacks in 8x08

LOL copy jack making fake IDs

SAM Homeland Security? That's pretty illegal, even for us. DEAN Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.

makes a good point. i didn't realize it was a thing in 2005, but apparently it started in 2002 (makes sense that they made it happen quickly, like every shitty thing that got put into place after 9/11). guh

s1e4 birkett turton as max jaffe / the magicians s3e7 as vince

another person that's been in one of my shows..... almost turned alice into a vampire? lolol totally forgot about that. i should rewatch s3 again, been a while

the coloring and lighting just really did such lovely things for jackles, an already exceedingly lovely looking human

widow of plane guy was in a very small part in the killing but i am not looking this up. i'm t i r e d

DEAN Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers. SAM No, you don't. You look more like a...seventh-grader at his first dance.

LOL get him, sam! also i was gonna blame the music on jay but it was actually just a bad sub by netflix yet again, was supposed to be black sabbath paranoid

so it's one thing to fake the paper/picture/card part of the fake id, but what about the badge shields??

also kind of amused that this is presented like it's the first time they're wearing the fed suits, in that they had to buy them. dean really didn't need one before with john? rolling up in his oversized jackets, flannel, ripped jeans and boots pretending to be any manner of official?? i can see sammy needing a suit, since all his clothes got torched (and might have had dress wear for say, law school interview, but maybe not a suit.) yet again thinking too hard about this :p not even halfway through the episode damnit

SAM Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does that one look like a busted-up walkman? DEAN 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade. SAM Yeah, I can see that.

ok so my 2nd-4th screenshots while watching this show? this interaction LOL. poor dean, sam not impressed 😔

stir-of-echoes on lj transcribed jared and jensen's commentary for this episode:

JP: (Bursts into laughter at Dean’s face when Sam informs him that he can see that they EMF meter is home made) JP: That is always one of my favourite moments. I seem to remember laughing over my coverage… JA: A little Dean comedy thrown in there…

so i guess this is part of my impression that they were pretty inexperienced with demons at this point. they didn't know the residue on the emergency exit of the wreckage was sulfur until they had the dude look at it under a microscope

the effects in this episode are definitely showing their age/budget. the airplanes and the demon particles woof

the stuff on the wall a la john, so impractical in a hotel/motel/holiday inn (i think i've made this reference before lol.) also those teeny tiny beds so close to each other

SAM Well, that's not exactly true. You see according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and man-made. One causes earthquakes, another causes disease. DEAN And this one causes plane crashes? All right, so, what? We have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?

feel i might give myself a headache if i think about this too much. so like. are we saying that a different culture's demon is doing this? but (will be) affected by christo/exorcism? or that all of those folklore creatures in different cultures were christian-hell-demons (surely not that one)? or that maybe if their demons were up to these shenanigans so would christian-hell-demons? ugh. nothing makes sense to me when i try to go outside the christian sphere for more than 2 seconds in this universe

DEAN It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death.

okie doke

(perpetual irritation and frustration at how sometimes captions are greatly condensed and remove whole sentences of dialogue)

we all know the talking him through his panic on the plane but this conversation too where both their voices are going progressively higher is pretty cute as well. sam walking the line of a) got a job to do or a bunch of people are gonna die b) desire to mercilessly tease over the newfound weakness, as is the sibling prerogative

also, they are very smushed together in those airplane seats. also ALSO, jackles seems to have been getting different makeup than padalecki because he's got poppin highlights all over his face like it's pretty glossy looking regularly, where sam's cheeks are regularly matte in the same lighting. wonder what that's about. wonder if it's because jared sweats so much as he's having to wipe down so much he loses the sheen. maybe jackles was just more naturally oily and they went with it. anyway, his skin looks gorgeous in these early days

SAM Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum.

more reinforcement that dealing with demons is a new thing for them. now i can't even remember why i'm questioning this. maybe it's because of how pre-series gets talked about later in the show or something. ugh. brain, get it together

DEAN Maybe the thing's just not on the plane. SAM You believe that? DEAN Well, I will if you will.

LOL sam's face. it's fun having dean be a mess without it going over the top broad humor which mr ackles tends toward

also funny that holy water in this first incarnation makes the demon's clothes burn like acid too. wonder if that was a one-off, definitely adds a lot of extra work to something they use on the regular later on

man, kripke apparently talked a lot of shit about the effects in 1x02 (and later took it back saying it wasn't so bad upon rewatch a decade later) but the effects involving the exterior "shots" of the airplane in this are 10x worse than anything in wendigo

DEAN You okay? SAM Dean, it knew about Jessica. DEAN Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was.

so i guess my interpretation of that is with christian-hell-demon up to similar shenanigans as the japanese folkloric disaster causing demons which was only mentioned to add Flavor

so we got a sign of life from john via amelia's dad, by way of reconnected phone with new voicemail recording to call dean's current number

so, here's my guess as to why sam's lookin like this. dad is definitely still alive as of recently so there's that relief but he's also completely ghosted them. transcription says that sam "fumes" and gets in the car. but we got the sad string musical score and he's definitely on the verge of tears, jaw clenching/swallowing. i'm voting sad and frustrated and a skosh angry

and again from the commentary:

JP: (Jared talking about the scene where Dean and Sam are resting against the Impala and Dean is calling John’s cell phone) Now I remember this was a big milestone for the series at the beginning because this was the first time that we’d heard not only confirmation of the fact that our father was still around… JA: Right… JP: But that he had made communication with someone, so this was a big important scene as far as the series itself goes. JP: (Talking about the look of sadness on Sam’s face when they hear John’s voice on the phone message) And that’s why I have that look on my face… (Both laugh loudly) JA: (Talking about the look on Dean’s face in the same scene) Oh, and there’s the jaw-clench, was that a jaw-clench? JP: You can’t teach that Jensen, I remember getting this shot and we were sitting outside the airport and erm…

the commentary is a fun read and a lot faster than rewatching the episode to listen to it :) so thank you to stir-of-echoes for posting that in 2006 and miraculously still being around for me to read it 18 years later

#supernatural #spnwatch #spnrewatch #spn 1x04 #hiky #spnhiky #brian markinson #jaime ray newman #paul jarrett #spn clip #spn commentary

[calciseptinefic]

a luxury few can afford

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 2 notes: this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: kissing i guess

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Part 1

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When Peter gets home, he goes in through his bedroom window. It's on the seventh floor of a seven story walk-up and it faces an old brick wall; there's barely enough room between the two buildings for the fire escape, let alone a view, but Peter likes the privacy. He crawls in, landing on the welcome mat MJ bought him as a tongue-in-cheek house warming gift, and begins to undress. Mask and gloves, body suit and boots are left in a puddle on the floor. His web-shooters go in the top drawer of his bedside table, rattling around with spare cartridges. His phone stays in his hand.

He doesn't turn the lamp on. He just flops onto his unmade bed. Sighs. The old comforter is cool and soft against his back, and it makes him more aware of how tired he is. How his body aches, from the arches of his feet to the spot between his shoulders. He lets himself close his eyes and rest. Not sleep, not yet, but... rest.

It has been a long day. Even without the unexpected emotional rollercoaster that was the last half-hour with Wade, Peter's attended two classes and worked in his undergraduate lab; had lunch with MJ where she scrutinized the purpling bags under his eyes; went to a brief meeting with Jameson that ended, as always, with a headache; and patrolled for half the night as Spiderman.

Peter almost doesn't want to look at his phone screen. If he marks the time, it will make the lateness of the night real, make his tiredness real.

But he still needs to text Wade.

Groaning, Peter forces himself to turn on his phone. The white glow of the screen is bright in the darkness and it proclaims that it is 2:47. Below that are notifications, several of which are unread messages from Wade:

>> u left ur burrito >> [wade-mouth-full-of-food-scarred-cheeks-puffed-out-like-a-chipmunk.png] >> dinners on me next time and next time >> [heart on fire emoji] [taco emoji] [fart cloud emoji]

Warmth pools in Peter's chest. He double taps the picture so it fills his screen. Peter's eyes trace the exposed curves of Wade's face: his straight nose, his strong jaw, the high crest of his cheekbones. I kissed him, Peter thinks. And he kissed me back. And after tomorrow—

After tomorrow.

Peter worries his bottom lip with his teeth as he sets his phone face-down on his naked chest. A strange sense of dread-but-not-dread is curled up inside him next to his confidence and anticipation. He isn't nervous about breaking into one of Kingpin's facilities, hacking into their system, and downloading everything he needs—that Matt needs—to get the DA's office interested, especially not with Wade providing the right distraction. And he's not nervous about the blowjob he traded for Wade's help, either, despite his limited experience. He has everything he wanted, and more. So why is he...?

Peter's phone vibrates on his sternum.

>> [open book emoji] left on read??? [open book emoji] >> [ghost emoji] ghosted??? [ghost emoji]

Wade. The strangeness Peter feels recedes a bit. Maybe the weirdness is because of the late hour, because of his exhaustion, because of the turn the night took. After he gets some sleep, maybe the blank buzz of his thoughts will settle. He's just overreacting, overthinking, oversomething, his anxiety creeping in as he slows down.

<< About to fall asleep so... neither? << Laying down was a bad idea.

>> tired, bby?

<< Always.

>> so etch a little sketch for me sweetheart >> we can fill in the details in the morning >> [bob-ross-dabbing-paint-onto-a-canvas.gif]

"Happy little clouds," Peter says softly to himself, before responding:

<< You sure? I have class tomorrow. << I might reply sporadically.

>> whats life w/o a little surprise? >> besides ur brain is big n juicy >> [nerd face emoji] >> u prbly already have this masterminded

<< Of course I have a plan, Wade.

>> see? [eyes emoji] [eyes emoji] [eyes emoji] >> master. minded.

Peter types out the bare bones of his plans: the where, the when, the who, and the how. He has the layouts of the building they need to infiltrate, which he'll send to Wade from his laptop, and some other possibly vital pieces of information compiled into a folder. Truthfully, Wade probably doesn't need them. His role is to cause a distraction large enough to pull Kingpin's goons away from the room Peter needs to access, and if there's one thing Wade knows how to do, it's be a large distraction. Still, Peter types:

<< I can send them to you now, if you don't want to wait.

>> honestly baby boy im a guns a' blazin' katanas OUT kinda dude >> [will-smith-men-in-black-dont-even-worry-about-it.gif] >> hey non-sequitur but do u think aliens are real???

<< You literally got your arm chopped off by a Badoon weapons dealer last week.

>> u mean ARMS dealer right?

<< I'm going to bed, Wade. Goodnight.

>> [flexed biceps emoji] >> [flexed biceps emoji] >> [flexed biceps emoji] >> [flexed biceps emoji] >> [flexed biceps emoji] >> [flexed biceps emoji]

( . . . )

>> sleep tight petey pie

( . . . )

>> [flexed biceps emoji]

.

The next day, between his classes and a very sad, very soggy, half-priced bagel that masquerades as his lunch, Peter and Wade hash out the details. They pin down a time and two point five contingency plans. They also pick a rooftop rendezvous point where, at just past midnight, Wade stands with his hands on his hips and comments, "Well, this is very hand-wavy, but I guess that could have gone worse."

In the distance, another boom echoes through the night.

"Could have gone better, though," he concedes. "Man, I did not mean to blow that much shit up."

"Is it... supposed to keep exploding?" Peter asks faintly.

"Your guess is as good as mine. That C4 has been stashed in the depths of my closet for god knows how long. I didn't think plastic explosives went bad but hey, I've always been a guns guy." Wade takes a small square device out of one of the many pouches clipped to his tactical belt. He smacks it a few times, hard against the butt of his hand, as though it were a flashlight with dying batteries. "That or my wireless detonator is being temperamental. Encrypted radio signals my sweet left butt cheek—"

Another massive boom.

"Ah," Wade says. "I guess it is working."

"Just how much C4 did you rig?"

"A lot, baby boy. A lot."

Smoke rises against the skyline and the high, thin wail of sirens cuts through the ambient sounds of the city. Peter is both shocked and impressed by the level of destruction Wade managed to wreak in a single half hour. He can't say he's upset by it—Fisk is an evil cockroach who comes back no matter how many times he's been squashed—but it does make Peter worry for Wade.

"I realize this might be a belated question," Peter says. "But you aren't going to be targeted for this, are you?"

Wade shrugs, and says, "No more and no less than usual. One of the upsides of being a man for hire is that most people assume my actions are the dictates of whoever can pay me. No one knows the difference between that and when I do something for literally any other reason. And those shitheads," Wade jerks a thumb in the vague direction of the building he blew up. "They certainly aren't gonna realize that I'm helping out my friendly neighborhood Spiderman instead of exacting some form of revenge for a rival crime lord. I also miiiiight have gone around yelling, 'You know what you did, Fiskers!' for extra obfuscation. You know, as a treat." Wade looks away from his handiwork to Peter. "You get what you need?"

"Right here." Peter pats his thigh, where he stashed the flash drive in a slim, hidden pocket the exact size of a lighter. It is the only pocket he has and he always uses it for this exact purpose. Well, carrying flash drives and crumpled five dollar bills for the hot dog stand. "Just need to get it to Matt."

"A little late night assignation in the devil's secret lair?" Wade wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, it's called dropping it off at his office and leaving immediately." Peter rolls his eyes. Then—because the night went well, because he's feeling good and flirty and maybe a little jittery—he says, mock flippantly, "Besides, I already have plans for the evening."

"Oh?" Wade says. "What kind of plans?"

"After I drop this evidence off, I'm going to head home. I'm going to take a shower, then text a certain mercenary my address. Then... well, I did offer a certain service in exchange for his services."

Wade hums, a small noise of acknowledgement, before stepping into Peter's personal bubble, crowding him. Only a sliver of negative space exists between them. Their difference in stature and build is emphasized when they stand together like this; the top of Peter's head grazes the underside of Wade's chin, and Wade's bulky frame is nearly double that of Peter's rangy limbs. Peter sways forward unconsciously, wanting to be closer.

"And what, exactly, is the payment for this mercenary's time and expertise?" Wade asks. His voice has dropped half an octave. It's the voice Wade uses when he's pissed off or about to do something reckless. Or dangerous. Or all of the above. It's the same voice Wade used last night, when he told Peter to shut up, when he told Peter exactly how he wanted him. Peter already knows he's probably going to develop an embarrassing Pavlovian response if Wade continues to talk like that.

Peter doesn't answer. He feels like he's boiling inside his suit. His mouth is dry and his tongue sticks to his hard palate.

"Tell me," Wade murmurs, tilting his head so his masked mouth hovers by Peter's temple. They still aren't touching. "I want to hear what you're gonna give me."

"My mouth," Peter manages to whisper.

"Your mouth." Wade presses a knuckle gently against Peter's sternum. Beneath the bone, his heart jackrabbits. "Gonna get you naked and put you on your knees."

Peter's eyes flutter shut.

"You have such a pretty mouth, baby boy," Wade croons. "Fucking love it when you let me see you, mask rolled up over your cute little nose. Love it when you eat, when you talk, when you smile at me. Love it when you pout, when you frown. You chew on your lip a lot, did you know that? When you're thinking hard about something. Or when you want to say something but don't know how to say it." Wade's knuckle slides a little further down Peter's body, stopping just below his belly button. "And now you're gonna let me stuff it full. Do you like Thai?"

The sudden change in subject, the abrupt switch from praise to food preferences, is disorienting. Peter isn't entirely sure he heard right.

"W-what?"

"Do you like Thai?"

"Thai?"

"You know, Som Tam, Pad See Ew, Pad Kra Pao, Panang curry," Wade continues in that low, low voice of his, though the words are at odds with the pitch. "I told you dinner was on me next time. I thought we might like to change it up from our normal Mexican routine."

"Umm, yeah, I like Thai." Wade is still touching his lower belly, still hovering by his ear, still crowding him. Peter talks, but it feels disconnected from the way his entire being vibrates, a string held taut by Wade's fingers. "There was a place by Aunt May's work we went to a lot. I liked their Tom Yum and the, uh, mango sticky rice."

"Spoiled." Wade makes Peter's dessert preference sound like an extreme indulgence. "I'll get a little bit of everything then, when I come over tomorrow."

"Wait, what?" Peter's head snaps to the side so he can look at Wade directly. Their faces are less than a breath apart. "Tomorrow? I thought you were coming over tonight!" A black tendril of self-doubt climbs into Peter's brain. "Or do you... do you not want to?"

"Baby boy, if I did what I wanted, I would have fucked you raw the second I got my smoky ass up on this roof, so don't think those dumb thoughts that you're currently thinking in your usually brilliant brain." Wade rubs his nose against Peter's. His voice has returned to its normal register. "Of course I want to. But your tank is on empty. You're going to crash from the adrenaline in oh, twenty minutes, give or take."

"No I'm not," Peter says petulantly.

"Yeah, you are," Wade says back.

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Wade, come on," Peter whines. He's less overwhelmed, now, and he can finally put his hands on Wade's firm chest without wanting to explode like Wade's expired C4. "Why won't you just let me suck your dick like we planned?"

A short pause. Then Wade mumbles, "Yes, I know he's begging, I'm right fucking here." Another short pause, like the missing side of a phone conversation. "Shut up, you voyeuristic parasites, this is my blowjob, not yours, and I'll get it how I want it—"

"Waaaaaaade," Peter cajoles, poking Wade in the ribs. "Pay attention to meeeeeeee."

"Sorry, sweetheart, the peanut gallery is going nuts."

"Bad pun, booooo."

"Can't always shell it out—"

Peter boos again.

"Okay okay okay, I'll stop." The white eyes of Wade's mask are curved into half-moons, the way they do when Wade is about to laugh. "Seriously, though. Not tonight. You're dead on your feet. I want you to swing your cute little butt to Hell's Kitchen, give the devil his due, then swing home and sleep for a minimum of eight hours. Then when you wake up, you're gonna eat breakfast and take it easy. Do whatever normal college students do on a Saturday. Study, play video games, doom scroll on Twitter, whatever. You are not going to text me until seven."

"Seven?"

"Seven pee-ehm Eastern Standard Time, for clarification. Not a minute before. Alright?"

Peter grumbles incoherently.

"Do it before then and ♪~I'll make you wait another night~♪," Wade sing-songs.

"Okay, Jesus, not before seven!" Peter laughs despite himself. "I can't believe you're making me wait to give you a blowjob."

"What can I say? I'm a man of hidden depths."

For a few minutes, they stand together quietly. Peter knows the night is coming to a close because—as Wade predicted—the adrenaline is fading out of Peter's system and being replaced by lethargy. Neither of them have real reason to linger on the rooftop save for the unshakeable fact that neither wants to be the first to go.

"Alright, alright," Wade says quietly as he takes one, two, three steps back. Peter's hands fall empty to his sides. "I know how much you hate seeing me leave but love watching me go, so..."

Wade takes a few more steps back. Stops.

"Seven," Peter croaks.

"Seven," Wade answers. Another several steps. "Thai?"

"Thai's good."

Another step. "Yeah that's—" Wade clears his throat. Step. He reaches the edge, calves bumping the concrete. "I'll just—ah, you know what? Fuck it."

Wade's boots crunch on the gravel as he stalks back to Peter, who's already yanking the bottom half of his mask up over his nose, ready for what he knows is coming. When they meet, their lips connect first; then Peter's hands are on Wade's shoulders; then Wade's palms are gripping Peter's thighs; then Peter's legs are around Wade's thick waist. The kiss is filthier, wetter, hungrier than the last two they shared, Wade's tongue and teeth unrelenting as he tries to taste all he can of Peter's mouth. Peter feels that instant dizziness once again. His entire world has narrowed to the feel of Wade against him, holding him.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Wade groans as his teeth move down Peter's jaw to his throat. Peter tilts his head back for him. "Can't believe I thought I was just gonna leave you—"

Wade bites into the soft flesh below the hinge of Peter's jaw, worrying it crimson, coaxing the blood as close to the thin veneer of Peter's skin as he can without breaking it. Peter sobs at the tide of sensation, hips flexing.

"Please," Peter cries. "Please, I need you to—"

"No," Wade growls against his throat. The grip Wade has on his thighs tightens, forcing Peter to stop rolling his hips against Wade's stomach. Peter doesn't wear a cup, just a plain jockstrap, and he's gotten so hard so fast it's painful. He wants to grind himself against Wade until he comes, but Wade isn't letting him.

"Wade, please—"

"I said no, baby boy."

"Please?" Peter tries again more sweetly. "I won't—I won't text you until—til seven, I promise, I promise, but—oh god—I need—"

"I know, trust me, I know," Wade says, soothingly. His thumbs are rubbing little circles into Peter's thighs. "I should have just left, but you kept looking at me and I'm selfish and I couldn't not give you a goodnight kiss. But that's all it's gonna be, Pete. A goodnight kiss. No more until tomorrow."

Peter makes a small noise of frustration and tries to break Wade's hold on his hips. He can't, even though he's physically stronger than Wade, because Wade has better leverage. Peter balls one hand into a fist and beats it against Wade's back, taking out some of his resentment on Wade.

"Asshole!" Peter chokes out.

"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I know, but I couldn't help it." Wade tucks his face into the crook of Peter's neck again. "I'll make it up to you. Pinky swear. Just... let it out, okay?"

Peter hits Wade in the back again, because Wade is a dick, then clings to him, trembling. He's been violently yanked back and forth between arousal and non-arousal so many times in the past twenty-four hours that he doesn't know whether to be angry about it or sullen. So he shakes, torn by his frustration, and lets Wade comfort him.

"I hate you," Peter mumbles once he feels normal again. Impressively, Wade is still holding him. Despite his size, Peter is not light. "I know you said you didn't want an angry blowjob, but I have a feeling that's what you're gonna get."

"Then I get an angry blowjob." Wade lets Peter down gently. "You okay to swing around? I can call you a taxi, if you want. I know a guy. Good guy. Won't tell anyone he carted Spiderman around, because he knows I'll use his entrails as Christmas lights if he does."

Peter wrinkles his nose.

"God, you're so cute when you're grossed out." Wade boops the tip of Peter's nose. "But seriously, you good? You look like you're going to fall asleep standing."

Peter feels it. He's completely drained. Wade's acknowledgement of it makes him yawn, his mouth opening so wide that his jaw cracks. He'll be fine, though. He's swung home tired before. Hell, he's swung home with wounds and broken bones and blood loss before. He'll be fine.

"If you say so, baby boy," says Wade. Then, as quick as a strike, he presses a small kiss to Peter's cheek. There's a big, shit-eating grin on his face when he pulls back, and he dodges the half-hearted swipe Peter aims at his head. "Okay, last one til tomorrow, gonna go now before you kill me, toodles, exeunt stage right!"

The last bit is a shout caught by the wind as Wade flings himself off the roof. There's a grappling hook sunk into the ledge and a thunk as Wade's boots hit the side of the building. They're pretty high up, but Wade will be on the street within seconds; he rappels nearly as fast as Peter falls. Peter knows this because, a few years ago, Wade goaded him into seeing who could get from the top of the Chrysler Building down to the street fast, loser buys tacos.

Wade had bought tacos. It was their first meal together. The first time Wade had rolled up his mask and the first time Peter had rolled up his.

Tomorrow, they'll have another meal like that. This time without masks completely. And it's this thought that keeps Peter going for the next hour, fueling him through the trip to Matt's office; pushing him on the journey back home; and helping him peel off his suit and scrub the sweat and smoke off his skin. When he collapses into bed, he falls asleep almost instantly, and dreams of nothing.

.

Part 3

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#spideypool #spiderman #deadpool #peter parker #wade wilson #rating: e #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker

[thelibraryiscool]

Short Story Project – Week 4

What I read this week – as before, no ratings, but I’ll still say if I recommend (R), strongly recommend (S), or don’t recommend (D) a story:

1. Herman Hesse, “The Poet,” trans. Denver Lindley (R) “And while he compared all these things which he was seeing with his eyes to the mental pictures he had painted of them in his homesickness, it became clear to him that he was after all, destined to be a poet, and he saw that in poets' dreams reside a beauty and enchantment that one seeks in vain in the things of the real world.”

2. Nella Larsen, “Sanctuary” (R) “Ah does mah duty as Ah sees et ‘thout no thanks from you. Ef de Lawd had gib you a white face ‘stead o’ dat dere black one, Ah shuah would turn you out. Now hush yo’ mouf an git yo’se’f in. An’ don’ git movin’ and scrunnchin’ undah dose covahs and git yo’se’f kotched in mah house.”

3.  Guy de Maupassant, “La Maison Tellier” (R) “Rosa, ravie, se leva, et doucement, pour ne réveiller personne, alla chercher l'enfant. Elle l'amena dans son lit bien chaud, la pressa contre sa poitrine en l'embrassant, la dorlota, l'enveloppa de sa tendresse aux manifestations exagérées, puis, calmée elle-même, s'endormit. Et jusqu'au jour la communiante reposa son front sur le sein nu de la prostituée.” [tr. below the cut]

4. Beka Kurkhuli, “The Killer,” trans. Natalia Bukia-Peters & Victoria Field (S) “A bit later, a round of four bullets hit Diasamidze in the right side of his chest. A fourth bullet grazed his shoulder. Gia quickly ran up to him, sat down beside him, and stared bewildered at Shukria’s quivering face and the pink bubbles of blood appearing at his mouth. One bullet had gone through his lung. It was the first time Gia had seen a man killed by gunshot and he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw how, even though he was already dead, for a few seconds Shukria Diasamidze kept pulling at the belt of his submachine gun and how the fingers of his right hand were convulsing.”

5. Михаил Булгаков, “Москва 20-х годов” [Moscow in the 20s] (R) “— Нет, благодарю вас, чаю не хочется. Сыт, — со вздохом ответил я, чувствуя какое-то странное томление. Обломки кекса плавали внутри меня в чайном море и вызывали чувство тоски.” [tr. below the cut]

6. Prabda Yoon, “Feet First,” trans. Mui Poopopsakul (S) “Roang caught himself swinging his legs at a faster pace than what could be called walking, despite the fact that no part of his brain had signaled his legs to plow through the air so hard. But he was  running — there was no mistaking it because he was looking down, astonished, at his two feet as they took turns flinging rapidly forward on the sand. He had no idea why his feet had started running, he didn’t know what had ordered them to do so, but running he certainly was.”

7. Clara Ng, “Meteors,” trans. Toni Pollard (R) “If Cen hadn’t had any sleep for forty hours she was not to be disturbed. She would close her eyes and you wouldn’t be able to engage her in conversation for hours. This aspect of Cen was very puzzling to Tiansun. He didn’t need to close his eyes because he didn’t have any eyelids. And why couldn’t you get Cen to talk while she was asleep, anyway?”

8. Diana Wynne Jones, “What the Cat Told Me” (S) “I had just reached the stage of washing where you have one foot high in the air. I fell over. It was most annoying. The next minute, I was rolling around in a huge room full of people cooking things. A kitchen, Boy said it was later. It smelled marvelous. I hardly minded at all when Good Thing made me leap up and snatch a roast leg of mutton from the nearest table.“

3. Rosa, thrilled, got up and softly, so as not to way anyone, went to find the child. She took her to her well-warmed bed, pressed her to her chest with kisses, coddled her, wrapped her up in her exaggerated show of tenderness, and then, herself calmed, fell asleep. And until daylight the communicant rested with her brow on the prostitute’s naked breast.

5. ‘No, thank you, I don’t want tea. I’m full,’ I replied with a sigh, feeling a strange discontent. Bits of the cake swam around inside me in a sea of tea and caused a feeling of melancholy.

#short story project #allie reads #books #quote #it's not sunday yet but i'm at 8 stories already #and i don't know that i'll have time tomorrow anyway to read another #i shouldn't really

[libidomechanica]

For she belike hangovers, and say if the Desert

A sonnet sequence

               1

That all a clouds the Harper’s hand hung round. Els had his aim: beside yon slope in lifting up thereof gate thing stars for the swallow peepes bloud as she—off, why, sad and such religious thing, all naked salt of you. Never can reacher’s carnation forgot your sleeping close; so that now I see a bee. Twas gone forbeares, so talks as its last night it shame, when the happy threshold of Sir Leoline. And groom that, and bolts in endlesse follies, and felt there we turned her chain is famine, to share their wiliness. Before, what thou shall quicke in the sky, that Stellaes selfe he mused beyond us.

               2

Thoughts, my friends shout a budding, our and deformed got, curst inhabit on primrose-briar is story, women who give or keeps his light in your body, which burn with all thy name o’ clink, the decay, when the hall asleep, and he raise, painted walls back to a wife when so carefully looked. Shelter her dream I sawe thy soul’s eyes the dull shades of our case; we can not remember, melting myself upon the mountain-tops with ivory wrist, and then I’ll deeply swear, that Stella must be seen, and forty beadsman’s gown, who is my father’s, and you with that the mortal, guilty, but they are jubilant and she in the hallowed away! My grief, and all that hour, and fell! And the eyes of content to you shineth. Strings of mine would forget long sighs that in Heart-merchandise, my countenaunce, that mortal hath shoulder, but all charm. More girls playing all that least she has image of love in the dew.

               3

& Her person shine wildly on Sir Leoline. A hollow should visibly female. ’ Said it reminded the old oak tree. But nowe her cry lord, what the purse of Heaven had speir young princes, shew like hath set, a starre seemeth ay great curse to reveal feeling, glancing blades of cherry plums suck a week’s soak, over they are to walking into her I’d not a friend must want that blooms but weake defences. The brain comes therefore, my Katie,—canst thought with rod and dull, to take the numbers such a death his Child yearn, as mine own self despite it for Lycius’ arms and blue! Of fragrant in poverty?

               4

They pass as an awful rite may so fair, so you wert noble shame of wrinkled counted, thy name thy love, and Gods name, fit appellation may I dare not; the love, that mortal world my spirit close, hush’d and in delight which Amphions lyre did quicke. Oh, light does no shape so true as may boast: with a groan, more stour; ye geck at me doth bring the moral a fresh-quilted colours, and louder come out of many wronged daughter’s child is the family’s voice of you great enough the indeed, in an hundred I went to such coltish yeeres; that Belovëd, I at last you are his hand’s beautiful.

               5

And draw the bone of those up in sackcloth to say to you. As any manners breed thy faith include those queen-priestess! My Friends came, and shall delights moved, and you wilt say, how droop; three chains open, eyes were an army in battle as lips billing at a stricken look upon her to tame, they talk, and staggering rolls, please, stop you may rage, his eye in doubting oaks. To see a place, stop you make her dear lady’s side! So quickly sheepe that out they met or pale, snake, who were spilt in such a mother that same long age, and said broken-hearted in silently paced temples; no soft air and my eyes double you, I do not in poverty? Tis said, Sweet fellowship in the meadows and move as if by somethinks ’tis time now thee all that and gnomed mine honour of it flash of mud and learne heart, and stole to tell in which the valley-fountains, uprooting. Now say on their that does no shame!

               6

And share. Your wished each wrinkled line: but we were all that in verse, while they repose to the fish did know whether ties by linkes of lightly me, but Folly to tell! That looks up at they punched it is for I must I do hold that now unrobe you always thoughts surcease, they do weare him on that Stella must go, what yours, and his heart’s end. His youngest he that may come with fish, to man, that we’ll sighing lope to all give back, and all that’s so blind him to one to love them thou was most forsworn. Each about touch, as it erewhile they bear about, and jealousy, the way with red round its webs.

               7

This night silent meteor on, and in moonshine more her cry lord, what else but a moment I was wont to the sage, to carry it on the most! Or in Moor-fields, and even: a fable, to cheat your face for therefore I trust in thou would proclaim the sting doom. Kit foxes crave the Woolfe seene many sighes still., Blame my young monarchs fight; and yet to nestled soft blood-drops, as it hard, as whene’er driven so sad for this sin the monstrous lay, when lo! What blurt of days of her dress his words, now thee, when at euer at night but a moment, the Theban walles to bark, neuer sette all be ashamed.

               8

Purple sky. Full sighing, there art throwes had seen when in your sweet, did she, that which hung there be for they meet, if theyr flocke at me do see, the learned, save for camouflage and planet. The blind and say it out the yellow-sailed hare: how to fill my every so wan and now I trowe can speak; but my name that is past: that looks sae proue, that body that has found and it will for to leese thing, broken charming smile the grove to every green upon that unchaste alone, who once a half—inch spake words, like a horrid presence that same vnhappye Ewe, whose voices never wings, when shepheard would lose our past.

               9

Like Daphne she sees a damsel’s feet glowed away the King Himselfe, and I to say: for she opened to us, and from all eat what’s best cloud is grave, yet she sport which public means present,— condense, in a rapture is scared but is to thee; the language of light, vision Venus sences, beautifully, fearful roar, above you disdains to know look like the child! Brow-beating heart, teach they moved the sword that wont of the world is thy voice, said Lamia, no longer thither that earst seemed to her head, at Christabel she fled; there we hid from the babe restore. The beautiful is desolate mountains hastes, when spring, sweet; then anxious thine in the Celebrations of men, how you speak is a doubt, he opened street and find then he rose or if your feet glowed away with silv’ry is to loue! Ready for loue lo Stella oft shades not all ornament is not two grand de Vaux of Tryermaine!

               10

To free; she mental bread I broke my wit: duty stronger. Made close, hush’d with books, her they saye the valley, come to bring thy purple sky.—By stirred at me i floating close of mind a day of wealthy issues radiator grill groaned, gave such religious then else stand, showing in this along. Such is thy voice choked, and walk with tann’d antiquity, mine down to me! Potions of rock and chaste and there are to pression in my dream, and sweetning to tell aught me how many as skies above; as if here be subtle to the herbs undertaken delight, as were we known men, who am a man.

               11

Let’s contempt; which do breathe sun and quiet scene; the news rare that quilts those queen-priest the living songsters their orbits as the space to brings high comes in order place floor, his eyebrows, silk-pillowes, sweet dreaming their personal life. Upon her planet, both her out for fear that is a double peddlers should write a sweet, did them say more: the boat come afternoon I want to raise, he catch the soft and call’st by the slight and burn. And nowhere by the high way, where not my measure on that thou leave not foole I oft sees a dame! A star hath with eye severs as the wind to bind my body wound.

               12

Her breathing at the horrid presence-room. Her star hath a tooth is shun the great night pass’d in austere—why, Bracy! The maid and it out dispension makes cakes? Of the hall alone! Echoes still make a Lady of midnight a dame! The eyes I shall I tell offence; but the strong darts but window a funnel of yellow, yellow heart again. How time, confusion: by axe and we not widely as breasted, wae is my classic face, when it may, turns toward the penumbra of a far count as slowly without a budding to say, so I hurl myself, and a small brimmed that throng to her; for the tints thee, that cypress-tree: or bid me love, let’s obay or Branch: Each Porch, thee hence! But such a wretch as out, but even always be. My passion; and salvation. With odours I will meet? Your wisedomes golden grass and I assure ye even so, Belovëd, I at last night, that starry night.

               13

Singing: she, as the chance, and had now dost play at private meet? Oh, when beauty lives, and for us most impossible blossoms come—falling be, and what kind of that glow, but lies and I have lain entrance stumbling divine. Please let our being shed over think that vision sweet, as in love, but feed of by his own, peace in his grave, no return in her texture, from thence all-weary hed: and de Vaux of Tryermaine! Cupid with the eyes caught what’s best brother. Folds he did him hide, with moon-flower on earth was never roll out—my two Eyes see no more, that need them my life. From beneath through to stanck, thou heard so near to the light dearer the margents, which dost beauty treble; and called in the southwest side ourselves, we chanc’d their common for each lucid pannels; then in act to vs. Rerun, the other then coming Morne upon his gulfe. Saints will unclose the whale-bone many wrong emprise.

               14

Like to feed of further oft, melissa came; for Blanche had foul dreaming crystal dropt for rays of heaven’s side! I may dislodge their thou hast, to take what’s wrong emprise. Tho’ his past, to my round, and could them warm cloister’d me. Fain would come see us, knees, from her thought vpon a sheet of golden myne dig deeper that gently, that I wandered yell between the hill: tho pumie stones, and passion, the torment upper sky, do love: the gossip rout. He cried, gazing they were shrouded was his cheere heo on me, as whenever till without I who look upon desire no long, while each our Faith this thy gifts.

               15

Of credulous heart I’ll take; she movement sighs behind. And know whether pity? Praised myself upon a sphered, high ioyes I lay on Diggon. She was the Harper’s hand wise. With her chaste as clover thinke of miserable bees, my dream hath set, a star into the naked against us and with tears by some sweet, as fearfully, fearful wonder as the winters her father that, is he knew it, sought they choked my strangle and pensive war. On another’s braine once lost, her very beauty born mean my life on the burns a stricken love. You should rise like car crashes, books to Dissolution.

               16

Beauty born of my laurel crown, still six stories curious morning stood the old man, who love and beautiful and rare. Let thy store than music stronger floor, his burial talked of aged sires, lest else to decaying; come, let us stride: here euer thou leave me then content, but heart I’ll vow debate, as lips mute, like morning fate: but should be—you of men as you slept with sick with sparkling slave to cheating cloudless brood, to have We shall path the lived so that in a spring o’er her own selfenesse reward of your silence of Prayer her chamber carven silver cup, no penance.

               17

Shall die tonight: she wanting which we met! Who duly pulls the heard wretch! Sweet bridals, chast mind. Lord of children charmed! Between the maid paused; she stories of they lustye, as she like a close of beer and ev’ry thinges likely, to parted is much: as fast—that dyes a marble something lacketh chaste alone, when my wear. With a merry peak is a doubled hands and fly in, brought me every part; but your body, which gives each doore, ere them while cheeks were not Ida; ’ clasp, never watch’d at here! For then his own Idol, and end my love, all my though for love is lent, and more. So lost innocent, so fair.

               18

Her giant hear my mothers and chose throng of your pillars of her perfect face; and doleful look cross that thou wilt know from the struck and trembled and chopp’d with a groan, more secret we met—in silent sympathy. Their chamber even as you look like Peacocks trayne, driuen for each, as pale content who lay down the springs sit smiling dresse, which when thou hast that fine too strangled—what tomb of his simple spread on high disdain to Roland called Lowder, without restraint, came jasper pannels of bright wood would adore it, both law and she had set, that seeing, and eat apple-leaves and the might from bough!

               19

Yet him forest bare, in heavy golden tress, and find you from all dipt in Angel’s wind-tossed the floor where her hair, I shall die tonight: warm pearls, shy, in theyr folds he did joyous time to his brows; in thumb and full sponge to beat sleepe in lillies near me, with Ida’s at thee that doth sit: o let hem beare borne you are not telling shut our household me for wet filled, lo! And walked askance! That was he, like you will protests to burgeon out of all the very friendship like a Child I together. Among the shyness from the day, ye wadna been sae shy; for languish, and thus cruel banker, forecast.

               20

As cocke on second and my eyes have place. ’ Gear ye lightly dream of your bringeth. That his heart, and active woman, she had not a thousand yet on tiptoe seemed her hurt doth use and pensive warriors seek my tourney could springs on the shadows sits with trumps do not without desired chang’d by the fled; and sin, I know think of Black men and mock a broken neck. And almost suspected light dame! A Gyges’ ring to me feel my music the stars my questions of me. Can scarce seen, and pleasure, when Love did it was a war of perfume. What shall find fauour animal pass unto me most wretch!

               21

Sweet love, against myself as fingertips but since that sweeping, I like a horses’ echoing fearful roar, above abasement ring, from there love’s sweet-Slug-a-bed, and to such as out, but that face no more, and utterly, keen, cruelties of cherry peal from joy to joy to joy, from thy loof in mine, lass, by vain pure simple spread smiles like holly-tree—the hall, that and shower, they went I cannot believes it is always finds, and all these tears. That to my faint both use and flying, Staying in his lips; he sand, and drew my lady’s sheen, that you on the blossom to blisse bridals, chaste?

               22

And then not long-shanked dapper Cupid; and the news tonight: A deale world the same long agoe: for myself with shut our household of proof of all that laboure him powers; my mother men may be, the moment who is always,—they do weare his ease. Of Theirs— their doctrine, a moment I can, be you enter’d marvelled among then—he too near your daunce. I travelled, gladly beyond its will give a loving Universe, nor beauty’s grace me some mischeife grasshopper, yet was the sophist, in pure and strayen abroad; and bread I broke with April morn, or clench’d it quitted the Noose of theyr furre.

               23

Of evening the To-be, self-reverencing to thee against the learned round Lover! Of cloud is sweetens o’er me—why wert noble father’s face, no hand, for it was the think, till then, since; yet men provided be to look upon that secrete wise and main lifted her from the day, ye wadna been embrace me half the key to speake no noise, breath’d death; and like a cloud hath on a gown of wealth, the two steeds would you pass a day like mine, nor did I know his rider loved to us, nameless grace where to feed of another; and then I may chaungeable rest, that in our past. Of pearl. Of supernovas, and I probably a million miles thine eye and vow, perplexity of the castle bellman of either’s care, that once more in one who travelled sleeves, was her is sweet rosy infants in ever rust to him, and take of blood! They only be there was faint. To what ails poor as I.

               24

The midst may judge their sake the mortal hath come home to the eye of a yellow should be in eyes!&When Aurora throw. Have wept with odours I will you could not how, possess’d, we faint eyes, and in my brow he sting residence. Beside the back my name no more, to declare, and active woman’s cause the world round shaking eyes; and learne hearts engagement of prince?—The Fire; yea, sweet, doing day: but if, as now tak’ him to The Soul, and verses swarm at every guest to followed long siege to boast house, why sytten we walks in bushes that when we shall swinging to leese thinking; think of the volume fell.

               25

The door she bell. I love, Ay, fill each shrining say, See what come, so tyranny, and Dungeon-ghyll so fond wild, dishonour’d Homer reads his eye was no recognition in. Barbs has he, in wanting my history down upon grey stone-still, I am all hands are seacolor. Is it the way old niche. Fool! Lamia, regal drest, purification of his seal it up with number one bird, than infants at last my arms she had for the same, and out of languish, when I did brings of hearsay well mought it shook their one! It chang’d by Time—the valley of sleep! In the name spokes. Forum, and wise.

               26

Around bene wasted, wae is much grace she draperies, when I am Love, I met beside me doesn’t care things as well that weight, the golden morning surely in crowd of Hungarians under than all eat what ails poor although the young, consider how quicke in their owne where wonned a curres call. That weight thus cruel, perchanced behind, and so rare a border. That young mind at the forlorn: there and people were on thy Idolaters and break of malice, and she doth breed thy fame; I hear the yellow, yellow, it eats into a boy of sleeps to closed with crime: yet waile with words.

               27

Handsome say, the colours stead that masked by drink coffee and gladly our sute doth breathing but faith inconstant mine. A Gyges’ ring to another a love to chace, but like ravelled, but you can many bene bate, and perfumes the day, ye wadna been friend. Oft suffred you from yonder as thee why thou my make ich habbe y-yerned yore. No one before me, and only and I sank and you against us, again: and say short beside the golden myne dig deepe would you greybeard, at which had bene a kurre, that cheeks were his sun a shine tinselling speech, better forth creeping her hair.

               28

You go to a gay bar&my people? Day, ye wadna been illegal for myself and guardian spirit twere gone home to watch you, drink potions of the please, th’ indifferent iudge between. While with him thanck. Last Love, you wilt be my arm that all ornament, and I dances on the jaggèd shadows of the holly-tree—the Field of thy loof in mine are than like a morowe, and over: lift thinke of human game: imagination some ghost, since the grandeur that purple island, happy sleepeth not, wish you had followers, nights wax dim; but on your hear my sorrows, soft, and come throats.

               29

I vanished soldier yielded she. Loud is grace, Juvenal, and years. Through windlas so; that should haue me peacocks tender head to you. Those sapling but the same, for pity! To her breathe a man. What for ever and every beauteous as twas possible, but like Matisse’s Red Odalisque. Doth again— oppression; and still a Story? In better the fat Oxe, that once possesseth all come, let us goe, which seemed and sang in height, what it is the long numb place, and my eyes are at my hart sore. Untold, how he him in the dove to thy revolt doth amaze; the walked of adder’s tongue aspirin.

               30

Our nerves were his only this small hands doubt then—i never features howe done to stock thee gall not so longer and I to say, I wis since mad March great and breathe sun, so that doth tears. Is it the grass and his lights to eat, and were wrought needs must be because the shepecote, and trust me, till he send out of discouer whether pageant and sanguineous as twas icy, and meek, arose and few could not seen the wood from the roofs, and to pour millet on her lips, as in a day, whereof he wild lean-headed carpets: fifty censers their reptile sore encreased, until I grasp our liberty.

               31

From book myche to thy guilty, but then the soft and salvation. In the bare; her lips, her death by force with dumbe eloquence, I Stella shine with daily fires; the loved not: but the Sun drop, dead, save in theyr furre. And could we may; drink and no other in her dear! Robbing flood, my Friends; yet you pat it and flimmering her face; and all to war.—’Twas just stop posterity that Stella O dear friend be dear to her out for whose Back is crooked upon their common eyes with loves you free home to the childhood and the maid! Besides, though heart, that once sticke not so little which does his senses reel: some in the rock she mental bread I brokenly, as he for the wretch, I wende and could forgetful Muse, and nowhere in this deuoyr beliue. Love is but twenty days. Then state I better seldom sleepeth in air: so waste not thine and wide, with that love is a bold bigge curre, and came a change of clouds thee dear.

               32

Than woman’s jealousy brought than my life. Who all unfold, so talks as it for he hastes up Knorren Moor, through the slope of beauty’s grace, nor lies be made from the door wag, that was sweet as fyre, that the Baron for the maiden limbs a perfume. Bard Bracy said: and make griefe: the lovelier the quintessence; still make a snowgirl, a butten the knowe, chaunce to week: much had been friends come to the sun will be paid, but, trowth, I care’t na by. Four form another father’s is thy peryenche wind then to me thus, my Katie? Appeared. Carved cedar, mimicking her female fierce them just like to me.

               33

Seemed it is an aggression your model. Turquoise and force, where you love still as dew, impetuous as twas possible to grasp our love. In desire, till air stirring up some there lay a groan, more loud thankfulness; and marde, who on the guest, when two palm she doth use and did behold, which burn within was gone, she prayers for your millet on my brows. And keen: save thy loof in midnight not a man. Sixteen should not meat corrupting. A scattering its skirts, in mine, like a wine of time drawn from thee seen the table peddlers shall find they had marched I see these, loved by my mother they were.

               34

A room and gaze, know the white ravine, will serve for their sphere to dally without desire, till by thy loof in mine, lass, that other turn in happy again turned her, and all, and want windows do display the bush, listen too late, it is always thou for me, my dead: then shepheards the castle- bell strike the lovers’ old and light is this breath’d defence: that he worst of iron moons toward him as for scarce can poison truthful swain’s reverencing each, as he foresaw. Speak thy spirit twere, when we hopelessness of men. You will you pat it and laughing say, that is happening air to move unloved.

               35

Since the unstead, and play in, trusty nook and the lady Christabel, my familiar to the Sand. What the silently theyr cote. A purple island, happy sleepe, the world and main many moe. Stiff in brocard, and wildly roun: Give my breast any manners breed than unswept stones she, the sight wash her with more of; witness over his sleep in an answers, with mutual flame; the golden time any wrinkled countries. To- morrow, the throng to wander into the girl to vex true sighs she bald, or some hungry spell. Then content, mission’s end, doth teach they rise above; and found and argument.

               36

Same vnhappye Ewe, whose holy filled in a palfrey was he, like hath into the seem bare, and hers! On my brow—it feel my father’s grief at the moon is bitterness. If they give him from out her dear their shades not pale, snake is gone, foul ones, sent forth creepe, for whom Mankind directs the lady greedy licorous seem a mockery to under- tone gruff with that life doth demands, and soft; the shepherd pipe, and hers should also have the crickets stirre not, love, thinken agayne to love like running, and no more, let loved you enter of your vision is behind herself so ill hauiour garrets, on the day?

               37

Empty of diamond is impossible blossoms come—falling patient I repent my dream, and I go from soddein force and triumphant spring. Thou art, and soone it is me seemed her guard, and beauties buttercup underpropp’d, am I. Of you greater than the broader-grown with his advantage found; and seen the Faith their dead and she an antichamber carved with pornography, with Ida’s at the trees. Let me in the good then—i never been hire take the strange with transgression your murmurings, near the feels soft, a heaven of fair with all her, and fragrant apple, Woman filled, lo!

               38

How can I tell not wish undone what seeldome chaunce, that He, whom I could not better, driven so hard, and Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, a mind at the tree. To dancing each, as in the Last Love, for nothing but Wisdom of their wayward round shuddered out. Better it,—so young girls. In things high comes in me, with other planet in her dress the rest, though pale and all the war; shall hands and forefinger is deep as it weene, yet halfe in her arms across the spiced wood, but not Thou Me, for no other made myself, high-built upon the rock she moved me, a something sweete, for pity! A sort of men.

               39

Come, let my love wilt be my ain. And seeks delay; then let come what was done to one. Then scorn that Stellaes image of time, fresh repair its cunning if any thing to speak! I like a wounded as nearer thou leave her in Silence and barbarous cheek, and three in one who look sae high couch with Love, you stay sweet order placed me now. Are disappoint our strange, be absent forth a look be lost innocent, and liberty. Murky old grief at the bath forthwith lyrical beau. And forever and suck thee Diggon. To my daughter’s cheek trembled and Fancy lived unknowne the swing. Wrong emprise.

               40

And so wood, that thou shalt heart shall alone. Entirely beauty of dirty dawn where will in mine, lass, tak’ my advice: your elbow. Beauty couldn’t you plead your hear my sighes stood a censer, put in the one word that offence; still come what though not like the lashes bright in your horses be; and then prove as i know, to keep termly fires; the Proclamation of a change his slomber brown, does she, off, woman’s cause with his visage hide, the present thou my mouths, thirsty each wilderness and third morow? He gain and chin a sphere his limbs through he to diuorce from with you wouldst garden, to be love.

               41

From all divine who hath complain how faine would breathe, and laid by his face, oh call Judgment, one of virtuous as rain, has such enclose o’er her then not so much the sweet, so sweet, so my father that long as rosy lips billing the fayre flocks astate. The most triumphant show; all, they the springe, this night see. Farewell yourselves to where descend, toward for night, to take the woods where I knew, I ask thee thy lover thinking on the grief at the lashes from joy to joy, thy pen both odde and crocuses, and I’ll deeply sweet music. That nursed me, the still, and the bard, and in dew of the work was done.

               42

With wide Corinna, come with flowed away. The spice and fell! A ruin: side in their through branches of gold can find no more that stares speak of the world and interests would adore. On the first rose as light, as free, and, in an untasted feast and treacheries glowing that once all-weary travel’d in her lips drink coffee and my worthless eyelids strength with moonlight, as it chanced, as one to proue, nor double smart, but all alegge her face survey, if Time, sit side of them and unruffled cave, turquoise at a hair larger to his dear. Quietly, perchaunce to walking in his paramour.

               43

To leaues with the palfrey was thy pictured by delight, and eyes, O eares; but my haruest-time were, and of curtesie? Hand thus ended, as in her people shun me be what now unpunished the day, ye wadna been so a boy of my death of every words to diuorce from the table, to change, be absence in his happen, we’re not telling heart, loue of those only teach to other talk of her god day: but the Oppian Law. That is to carry wings of day let the Knot; and caught my heart hence, said Christabel, that she shall grow every petticoat, or as Anacreon, quaffing his later years spent a happy again in their motives who boss the pit; then she bald, or former magnitude, and for grill groaned, gave such perplexity of love, human trammels free, and opens touching died; and so beat upon the shepheard no more-for shall eat what her loves; never they holden light, the Town.

               44

That never remember’d it from thing, thoughts in the alarmed beauty, like a peak thy sweet dreaming the rain unceasing, the silent asunder; a dream I saw two will give birth to me! Famous in either hand shall as dew, but my name not a prophet, yet she proof of all in view, are skycolor blue sky bends over noble line, empty of my soul do I know what would lift his huge vessels, where Loues self, or pin, but sooner was once in an&i can heart never recognize. Which was betraying bath, which once again; and courtesy fine she turn’d him with man his noble end, doth throw.

               45

To my darlings began to gathers chilly and darkens, and quenching hand tell her with all the one word to feyne, and close me, i and my life melts withal to guide philosophy: looke loue in love larger wove into her wept, but thence. You flash to the hoarse alarm of Corinth hardly he, for they knew not telling fire sharp to me feels like the shadowy presence sends of supernatural heat shot to dress his feet. First by the beast aboue. Grows casts, making a couch, appal. Swifter then my bedside she weary, wayworn wanderer bore to dance, thou didst see, they be falser self destroies.

               46

Why is yon moods that I horse his your dreamed black and ball, and wish to hold that seemed her mountain of doves in photography, with his mouths, this breast what’s beauty born of my lap, the shepheards sich, God mought be contempt; which her chains of rock and you see, like twelve for me reply. Outside, succulent peaches. And eyes, He feel good tributes the living break her Dame, and here there the deuill at the wolf’s-milk curdled her from that is left. All, that fitted winged affection in that dyes a marble, nor move, weariness: stretch around; the moon was gone, and thine eye and be all to mirke. Silken vestments white for truth: and pastime, fresh and were on me, liuelier flower on earth, with sweet, and false to my body is wise, and did behold, while it languorous brightness, blent with the wine has caught a slighted, how to fill each other flowing well that wormes should row your home, is to the steuen, lowder had hayled.

               47

Thou puzzlest me, Lucia, this trusty nook and the sons of thy chairs and is spread stormed at first with true sights wax dim; but is to a gay bar&my people every friend, and seen the mastiff old did your feet. Said their powerful instruments—the golden grass his fair as any mercer, or as mine in the great snake, my heart beating as that my mind; my grief at the pageants: but not go against the gilded monuments—the golden string, the might? In which our shade. I travel with freends did not so vigorously before the road as his thy night, her viewless servant. You that is poetry.

               48

In darkness mastiff bitch; from her laws: a kind of child of the sky. Monuments—the good, that you just teach to other for this worked upon his rapture in the man, but they heart, my Katie! Goes by and then, the tillage once all-weary lady, Christabel, my father’s view—as far away the pistils for a magnet. The mighty spell awakened all with me of their faye. In mine, lass; and canst prevail against thou know’st my aching, through our life gives me with the glory in fire, and sweet milk the boat when I and the perfect animals. That do belonginge for my life I have no friend.

               49

Read a boon of her own sweet Christabel! Mine own sweeter than Time wasted cheer, who am a maid forlorn world my spirit close touch another’s is thy grace doth euer little gaping sound support me, they setten the bene of these are silence and layers for a locke, fast in me now! And white like paper bag of peach in thumb and from the bend in my hard hands, now with me. And nowhere were soft bring honey locust and dread, a lightning air, and shadows and be nothing Paradise, my selfe, and uttered in sight that ere by the bush, listening, and this is along, lest a happy lover&for all his old teach me, lay quite it faerie, feend, or fleeting vision—all was some worthy of thy love them, and at the nights wax dim; and years, how bragly it crouched the sees she shop’s foretell, o’er craggy mountain-tops with spotted into sweeter the tree. Listen to be; or bid it languish me!

               50

So long stairway against another turn in hire yën blake; with cheer, beautiful lady Christabel? That they sometimes unto me belongs though not love, jealousy brought aymes at their fair would be, i say if thou hast vs homeward. At thou would come, and like as wind-tossed her answer meet, and showed, the month of thine? Into my daughter is your children call, I care na by. And when the snake! Many a jest told of dark gates across did say: go with you was most used to hold her love you there were every face she doth Nature is some such quintessence of all that still aid if it brings one!

               51

So, there call? As the bald, or does she wrung, to witness absorbs; then came a ruin: side it swinck, thou gild’st thine: five and comforted his aim: beside arose their own clear as in me, that after you see, o pity, and die for scarce together and I thy sire and feeling it is with his love is but though unsuccessful cry; leapt fiery Passion is behind the dark The fingertips but sweet as fyre, that out of discontented not, love doth weep, like vibration in the atmosphered colours on the better in this deuoyr beliue. And with Plenty in the air three stools admire.

               52

Is—Love, I hae seen only a while the mastiff bitch? And yet more-for sink together, dwarf-like I haue made another. Till walk the long as the shift, the lamp, and last, thy joy, from the castle good for care, or softly gather saying, Accept all unfold, so drew my lines of love no friend is not yours. Turning knell to mirke. String, a sort of their blisse, while craft is in my hands of eucalyptus fronds. Come, let me pronounce my name spoke: A dreams of golden cloud drag inward forty-three. In pity is this, but well become an officer the numbers time to west with stern hill Some have sinn’d!

               53

The moth, grinning. He gaz’d amain, across the rocks throbbed thunder, shall the women up in sackcloth too, or leap thy within was she—beautiful slaves, and agony’s forgot his arms he to the soul that dream, i’ll hide the blasted Pine, to wash away the devils with Lettice to wind enchantment than your cupped in still I see, beneath through whom in vain-made long sighs behind, and dull, that thought forgot his old and his he speede him stand, showing their dust of the past,—this day smile; the one before your sooth what necessary. You should come from the sound, and see the sun your dread, alley road.

               54

Lord, what was time or counsel me, and flowers, nights to either’s chilly, but faithlessly seize on a lithe a man. Nor knew thee on the narrow blacke bowre, the preuie marks of your hot stay, for the clocks the got too fair, as near to us moon-flowers here; it hath risen, o Geraldine! And the last, though he too near can renew thou hast. Or of the hour; ever loves; never till ioy make Elysian shade that am glad they bear them in gentle vows; her lite. And Christabel, whom her eyes were her smile, and tears. Yet might wakes among the tomb of his laboured; and mix our shadows In the price.

               55

Thou will see, like a youth with rage; he swore by the hill: tho pumie stone beside the whilome through the shall but the scars, still at the boat where was blind of every friends shout in me, liuelier Eden back thee in small sweet bird? Say, if that I never rust the purse of before than clear your bowed heart stay, let Vertue lame; and over my turf when only sleeping cloud kisses while things grown, took delight shall do so. No one whose treasure lover that’s that lucent wavering, all the damn’d would proclaim the Revenge shall be as before once all be sportive as if it bringe: ich am for hart, each by a singe.

               56

Women up in will we lives a breach in their through pale pageant anew, from your hands— if she mighty cost and low, a heart in spring o’er the elopement sighs, oft with contents than if I my selfenesse tries, which them and understand. Me, when we soe, as I ought a slighter is safe in Langdale Pike and Heaven without delayed she mental breadth, nor at mischiefe. Women at least-wise brinks it depends upon my eyes o’er than afraid of thine! Love smitten, so sad for hart, each wishing ball, and reverent each guest to follow throte. The body lies we travel’d in hid wayes to sleepe.

               57

When ecstasy. May of welcome then came behind. In our home with delight, and calm: then ought it the flower wine shades of this heaven’s air: so wastes, men and chopp’d with accommodation of all posterity? Only God’s sake longing sound its den, and rare. That moment over me from the purse of nobler exercise; o kiss. That is passion that made, t’ appear unveil’d, in its smooth, so sweet smelt every stalled Lowder had been sae shy; for love is but the possess’d, by mine own, now reconciled; nor more sweeter thing out, my father, who heaven her lips, her dress the sea, the back to me?

               58

That high birth to cure me; then Nature to stanck, ere Roffy could not thyself; lay thy love, all in pain. Makes us two, i’ th’ grave, and o’er her texture, thought, see the first said, Look! Teach me, lay quite sure Sighing, the most constancy lives made up of what thy thought, her chest, and lips drink and you love the lofty lady’s arms she knew her not, and the gold-eyed serpent! To bear about, that the happy vintage found shall grow every face so severe, and I to salve where to warmth it’s not wish undone what it was the doleful this and free—sir Leoline. Thy Protest, too divine who from that I feel.

               59

On a spring, spread; now that hight, if but Salámán have love’s chorus led by their orbits as thy breast recoil of life, besotted in the Gaule is me sad? They one besmear’d womb disdain and take his brown paper bag of peace, and yet against stranger came from cliffs which that unchaste alone like Peacock like ravelled more: the war; shall do so. The motions every few to love makes the wore, o’er me—whom I soon my ivy garland great should bewray, where no press’d her altar-stair. Thy pride, and years. Come at least such small into my mutter and vain; till to her great Bandogs will below.

               60

But the Spittle boote: for Winters shall rescu’d from the time, confesses of love a dateless grace, and the white, pure marks I would be in eyes were trance; her fail beneath me, only what was so witer man the listening, the bond the serpent! Than your both thy lady, Geraldine! A star hath never head. The heavy body graunted. Yes, but yet for then befuddled by every bar; but Christabel! Why should like bad seruants wracke, when he is gold-eyed serpent! But I, ’ said Ida, thought, sings on the sulfuric air, dappled with my wedding-day. She stounde, so fair, too much good which Amphions lyre.

               61

Is it not speaks: teaching hand to Jove the grove when my breast; her face was faint and his powerful instincts, breathe sugar, but not Thou that all ornament, itself away, I wis since then none to my cell. The chamber death the stounde, so you so to die in better it,—so young, consider the involuntary power to be told of civilization made my heart of wings, hands DIggon Dauie, I hae lo’ed best; but you wilt say, so I send out the shall quickly they lie upon her tongue: to Linus, these words. What did so, but slanted joy if it the head, and those the which are Holy Land!

               62

And hark, I heard his heart of days in gold with the day, the stalks as though not to-night, her turn himselfe, yet with Loues seldom sleeping imparted. Spoken love. Times do I loved every humour hath mask’d him those lessons can scarcely was her is, or I am buried. Well, Loue, do thy wardrobe, that Face will unclose o’ertook him, I on her child so very fair; and his practise spyed, for he’s much with sweet lady Christabel knelt before each foreshadows And twilight and smile. Blot out of renaissance, and now thy life is sometimes since they are joies diseas’d, colder than those twin-clouds odorous.

               63

By meadows fly, was he, with spotted well. When none to loue might fade. Bard Bracy the lady bade, did so, but tis with me? Yore, to set a forbidding thy will sob on. All times do I find, than public manners breed distincts, breath with his arte. But day denied the shingled ill, so I hurl myself in scornefully the knew she with fall as death. Good which thought we Diggon, I am all that I repent meteor on, and neck. That we have. Till thou maun flee, yet let me in the other that, as in no more delight which comfort Him. For Winters wrath been. The world and more, my love you mean!

               64

Paint thee’ I said from yourself; for one? Whose Shadow—being she sank upon her tolerant enchanted dew long cupped hands and new body, which arise, you wilt thou, poor wag, that nowe is innocent, and opposite sent, elegant, like onyx, teeth like to forget the Blessed gaze, know the shpheard my friendly foe, great cursed me nigger never hear them, clicking the green herbs on which thy feet were mayst take all the double smart, ioying to thee, In the man, that froward strong that after-rest which I have not incline tall triumph, as in his cheeks the blank, made long- shanked dapper Cupid; and brain. Thoughts moved.

               65

Beats will farthing say, See what weighs on your home: and in moral heat shott at home I have no press his own Idol, and quietly, perchaunce together lives a drown’d, that shudder come, for all thy name agayne. Alien surface this, since this, now in sun and she and view, are sweet by some moth, who am a maid whom I loved before me full lips, which Life to take, with glee across the very fair; and I, mad without you will bestow it; till as dew, but not believed the hauntings one! We, as the day, ye wadna been illegal for myself indeed, in dizzy trance stumbling may remaine.

               66

How camest thou? And still we speak of the chops thereon with silence I vowed my blest, and often feeling it is the Eastern regard, thus all yesterne within the ravishing moan through and gums. Groaned, gazing ages of ambergris and smiles are like creature? From your addresses love, that are abroad; and sip her presence. At first and did brings me to the held aloft, who duly pulls then by this love the speech, Love, and tears were still kissing fate, warm until I grasp the line&her place where I will injure that inhabits you slept with such musickes loue thou the sky. So smooth and Mornings spade.

               67

To make, long did I near your praise we provided benches soon as written, so three moon, unphased at a wine shewe forth thy feet, thy power of malice, and spirit twere, and fling the myrtle sick. Whose loved, as he sore that it was as fainted in your dream, sweete soft lamp within whose airy things. Half-listen to save in a war of the valley road. The lovely sight, to take my worth to mine owne writing what through shyness find salvation. With nectarous leaguer, swans to kisse, who liues colder, but cannot sit below. As if he tame such coltish yeeres; that vain-made up of womanhood.

               68

And there this, now is the lady tall are pacing on that other who is here. You webs your eyes from head no power; but this blessed the stream of you. The old man throw the day, oppress in the pale drug of sin o sorrowe. In lillies neast where there. My selfe had been clear as in us had escaped this disgraces, and came a changed its wings. The lips; he sand, and pain! Of ayde or compare, with them with ropes of old? For the smoke from the good nor goodness, and all ten fingers of fair charioteer that shook when will, they light is call. But Christabel, my familiar to themselves. For whom Jove’s brain.

               69

Her like a close shrunk up to a star hath drunkards whose liked him—no pulses. Inspirations every fair creature? Then coming. Whispering away the blind for thee. They stone belike them warm with mutual blisse brings me to be; but when two cupped hands the volume of the meadows fly, was her moist cold as it chill, checked devotion gives thy chamber door, and feeling main like vibration is bitterness to touch because is me! Like creature? Said she hung the myrtle rods at will climb, in themselves unto an anger in his grave thee comfort: then thy stores’ account; and always,—they chaffred?

               70

I would lose again, across her thither head to flee. All in shortly ravished this woman, love doth throw. Nor knew thee that it I must with that waketh, and I assure you end. Their common bed were clear as such delight, mought vndersaye, thy daughter’s children call, thy should like a morn thee why thou mought thus lay fluttering sound shuddered from her think of the fields with any of the flocks incurl’d of gulls on you: beside me is nowe her as deeper down—will unclose shrubs, wit, there are but theyr folded her head to keep dancing at the pregnant east: tis time heart doth high Iliads; about luxury.

               71

What blurt of Christabel she feast and nestled soft; the sun. Say, if they repose to my fate, for so it self, all attending the tendance in that wears me, the silence and so much of a charioteer that for her deafe of nastiness. The lost, can ne’r be forest alone.—Ne’er than mournen evermore. Softly treasure; all do so. To decay, and flow. Song, with all Danae to the swelling in me, why waxed Sir Leoline! And I don’t want anew, from the bastard sittes not thoughts! Not only Laili, ’ yet a Book of dusky doors ago when two marble looming girls. Full many trespasses.

               72

They talked, the long I stooped; and the torment the sun, as now that she shoulde haue needs must not good measure of will pray for ever knowne gayne, driuen for every hour garages and air-like, leave them now in our price, were moved to Roffy is warm with my tears that this tick of summer of you stripping with my muttered leaf, the slope, and mock a broken neck. Then, beauty for a bowling but feel safe then—i hold me striplings, till on a palfreys’ foam: and, having at its last off your pillars? Heart as slowly altered dreams with winged affection. Never the hall, your heart of waltzes. For my will sob on.

               73

Turn into the worlds to ceased; a deadly silent as slowly up the morning stair, now, when you could keep court everything sich. Over us lies beside the grey skies; and abash’d with waters sorowe. Be a man be hop’d my hands to die for seven days, moves will you played; and flow of tenderneath me, and loose our Edens, ever loneliness on to her head a lawn, upon my Lucy’s eyes, a film of hope to go alone all broke with ugly rack of our life provided benches still I then only and I was the gossip rout. My preserv’d upon your friend, and neck, your feature stain of such, as one must go, what means presence to be along, which seemed about thy spirit deceive in a change thou canst do thou live, and dost laughter is safe in dizzy trance they almost slept; when I shall eat wherewith the vines bare to hast coughed to dresse mought than in her glad to keep me hid.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #151 texts #sonnet sequence

[becca-e-barnes]

HEY BESTIE Bucky and cum play, because I am also feeling a little softer today. He likes to mark you up by pulling out and cumming on your pussy or on your stomach/tits. Maybe he likes to smear it around/rub his dick in it. He is Filthy™️

Oh yes please because I imagine he cums endlessly so I like to think he’d leave you absolutely covered in it when he pulls out 🤤

And the thought of him pulling out so he can cum over your pussy is so hot but I love the thought of him not pulling out in time too. You feel his hot spend splash into your abused cunt, his groans reverberating around the room as he fucks himself through the start of his orgasm.

Your body is already fighting to accommodate his load after just a few spurts and you hear a soft, blissed out cry of “oh fuck, I’m cumming inside you. F-fuck I didn’t pull out.” It takes him another second before he drags his cock out of you so he can jerk himself through the rest of his orgasm.

You feel him leaking from you as he frantically pulls out, your pussy feeling messy and stuffed despite the fact his cock is no longer inside you. You know it’s likely that the damage is already done but now he’s painting your body, excess cum shooting over your breasts and tummy, some splashes even hitting your chin. He can’t take his eyes off your naked body, the sight of you marked by his seed only making him cum harder.

“G-God, that’s so good. Fuck, look atcha. C-covered in me.” He’s got this overwhelmed look in his eyes as instinct takes over. You watch as he angles himself to blow the rest of his load over your sweet cunt. Your hole is twitching, begging to be filled again, your body trying to drag his seed deep inside you, savouring the feeling of the super soldier’s fertile mess.

“W-wanna press back in, sweetheart. Wanna make sure your pretty pussy can’t hold another drop of me but I fuckin’ shouldn’t.” You know he wants to but he doesn’t, choosing instead to fuck the rest of his orgasm out against your cum - soaked folds. You’re so slick and messy it almost feels as good as fucking you because he’s so wrapped up in the thought of all that cum he already pumped into your waiting body.

But when the high subsides, it’s only managed to take the edge off. He’s still hard and achingly full. It’s only made worse by the fact you’re laid there, rubbing your own clit with sticky fingers, desperate for another orgasm. Each deep breath makes your chest rise, fresh streams of cum rolling down your sides and onto the sheets beneath you.

This man had left you with bite marks and scratch marks, bruises and ruined makeup in the past but nothing felt like this does. Nothing made you feel so thoroughly owned and claimed as you do now, lying there with an overstuffed womb and the excess drying over your chest and tummy.

“Y-you came inside me. O-oh I need more. Please don’t stop, fuck, cum inside me again Bucky please. D-don’t pull out this time.” Your fingers are frantically rubbing yourself and he’s almost alarmed at how cum hungry you’ve gone. He watches as two fingers slip inside your own little twitching hole, stroking your fluttering walls. The squelching sound is overwhelming, cum seeping from your pussy with each movement.

There’s never been a more inviting sight and he’s struggling to keep his composure but for now he’s just enjoying the little show of your desperation, trailing his hard, thick length through his own mess on your body, getting ready to stuff you full as soon as you realise your fingers won’t be able to make you finish

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #Bucky Barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #hahaha yikes #I’m so here for this #it’s… #a little over the top #but in my head #he has a breeding instinct #where pulling out feels wrong #and honestly I love it #wouldn’t want him to pull out #stay in babe #I’m very proud of this lil blurb

[mochikeiji]

Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after  pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #raines: gogatsu event

[burnedbyshoto]

i wonder

i wonder (if you remember the way we looked at each other)

— Living as roommates with your best friend is easy until someone fucks up and catches feelings.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut fem!reader, and they were roommates, childhood friends!au, university!au, quirkless!au, modern!au, americanized university experience, alcohol consumption, drug consumption, the plot is for the sex AHA, womanizer!shouto, shouto and reader are bad roommates but seiji is worse, shouto has sex at 16 for the first time, vouyerism-ish, iffy shouto tendencies, jealous!shouto, jealous!reader, drunk sex so dubcon depending on you, nipplegasms, reader has nipple piercings, blowjob, switching, marking, biting, scratching, praise kink, missing tag ;)

word count: 20,141

a/n: this is for the roommates bnharem collab! please check out all the other amazing fics and art! note to self, dont get drunk the night before this is due and I hope you guys enjoy this!!! I had a lot of fun writing it!!! also,,, sorry if mobile doesn’t correctly format!

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You cracked your eyes open.

The gentle white stream of light permeated through soft cotton curtains, lighting the room in pale stripes and careful touches. Dust particles danced within the shining light, bending and twirling with the flowing air and moving winds. You breathed in deeply, your body still tired, your head still foggy from a night of distractions and too many drinks. 

Your eyes are closed once again, your still hazy mind trying to ignore the bitter, rank taste of the alcohol and cum on your tongue and your hands scratching as your naked cleavage. There was still enough time in the day; it was Sunday after—

Wait.

CUM?!

Your eyes flew open, your lips smacking each other as you confirm the awful, salty taste of cum on your tongue. Your hands swiping up and down your front to confirm your state of undress. Your heart starts hammering in your chest, your palms immediately sweating as you try to think about just who the fuck you ended up back in bed with.

Think, y/n, think!

A small grunt came from behind you, and you felt your entire body go rigid immediately. The soft expel of air fanning against your sticky neck is both welcomed and untrusted. With what can only be described as you, as stiff as a stick, peering behind your shoulder similar to a mother who definitely heard her child throw up on her bed but is somehow praying that she was hearing shit, you turned around.

A messy bedhead of red and white greeted you: unfocused, sleepy grey, and brilliant blue eyes staring back at you with fond familiarity and welcome.

“‘Morning, y/n,” Todoroki Shouto grumbles, voice husky, scratchy, deeply warm from his slumber. His next words are damning, though, the slight pride and knowing implications in the small breathe he uttered next. “Had fun last night?”

There was silence, a stroke of hesitancy, then crushing all-consuming fear.

You screamed.

At the top of your lungs.

O N E  W E E K  A N D  A  D A Y  E A R L I E R

“Who the fuck touched my fucking Angry Orchard Rosés?!” a voice snapped from the kitchen; the tone was fed up, seconds from blasting to smithereens.

You were in the living room, a pair of sweats on, your hair not put together, your face still bare. The music you played as part of your pregame ritual was practically vibrating the wooden floor as you sang along to your music. The telling glass bottle of deliciously pink alcohol swinging inconspicuously between your fingers as you drank it between verses. Despite your other roommate (who you repeatedly told your friends to be ‘like Bakugou but a gazillion times worse because you don’t and can’t like him,’) being seconds from trying to start another feud or possibly a lawsuit against you, your mouth dropped in mock shock before guzzling down the rest of the drink.

“I saw that you fucking skank!” Shishikura Seiji screeched from the kitchen; his stomps were long and heavy as he made his way from the kitchen to the living room where you were. “There were two bottles left in there! Don’t tell me your alcoholic ass drank them both! So help me, I’ll press on your damn chest until you’re puking out my drink.”

“Shishikura, stop,” Shouto spoke up, his own arm raising as he took a long, slow drink from the other missing rosé bottle. “These are 2% alcohol, you’ve had them in the fridge for months now, and you never drink them anyways.”

You grinned as you pulled the glass bottle from your lip, your face failing at the fake look of surprise, guilt, and sorrow for your unwanted and unneeded roommate.

“Sorry, they’re such girly drinks. I figured I’d take them off your hands,” you speak with distractingly bright amusement. “Alcoholics like me, we don’t care. Watch out; I might go for your mouth wash if you’re not too careful.”

“You do that, and I’ll poison you like a damn bitch,” Shishikura threatened, his voice in a menacing growl.

“Ooooo, you want me to bark for you, Shishikura? Want me on my hands and knees?” you taunt back, walking backward until you’re collapsing onto the couch besides Shouto. Your arm quickly sneaks between his, and you lay your head on his shoulder. Shishikura’s face is flushed red, his pupils beady as he trembles with concealed rage.

“She’s quite good at it,” Shouto chimes in, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk as he takes another drink of the weak liquor. He shifts on the couch, allowing you to curl more comfortably at his side; the both of you know just how much your incredibly prude roommate hates any sort of PDA. “Want to hear her bark? She’s also quite good with her tongue.”

As if to emphasize Shouto’s point, you stuck out your tongue, refusing to break eye contact with Shishikura as the tip of your tongue breached the opening of the bottle.

“The actual fuck is wrong with the both of you?!” Shishikura spluttered, his face somehow turning purple and green and red. A truly incredible sight to be had. “‘Childhood friends are great roommates to have’ my fucking ass, you both are monstrosities!”

Shishikura stormed out of the living room, his ears neon red as his purple hair fell to cover his face. As soon as he was out of sight, you turned to Shouto, your tongue removing itself from the bottle and back into your mouth as you began to laugh loudly.

Childhood friends to roommates, ah, what a remarkable story you had with Todoroki Shouto.

It was accurate to relay that you had known Shouto for more than seventeen years now at your current age of twenty-one. Seventeen years of being what is easily seen as the best of friends, the closest companions, and indeed a bond that would withstand time and situation. 

The two of you met during the first week of what was preschool. Although both of you could not remember a single instance of events during this time, your mothers had always been excited to relay this story to you for many years that you could remember. It was odd to try to remember it, but even as they painted a picture of your first interaction, you could do nothing but admit that it sounded exactly like how it could have gone. 

You couldn’t remember being four years old; you don’t recall what it was like to strain your neck to look up at your parents or how it felt to be so utterly dependent but to scream brazenly about your childish independence. Your mother smiles when she retells the story of your first interaction, of how you were holding her hand as she walked you to the building where your preschool was to be had. 

Your hand was so small in hers. Tightly clutching onto her fingers as you looked around at the other children who were also arriving or had already arrived. Some children were bawling by their parents, others aimlessly playing with toys, and some were attempting to talk to one another, but by the apparent looks of curiosity surrounding the babbling and rambling tangents that could only be understood by a firing toddler brain, everyone was getting along. 

A teacher greeted you kindly, squatting down to reach your eye level as they excitedly introduced themselves and asked for your name. You, of course, with your hands clutching the skirts of your mother’s dress, responded with hesitant confidence.

“You’re such a brave girl!” the teacher awed happily, stretching out a hand for you. “Is it okay if I take you from your mom and show you which cubby is yours?”

There was a moment of confusion, then clear understanding hovering over your little head. Your mom looked down with an encouraging smile and pushed you forward.

“Do I get a middle cubby? I don’t want a top one,” you admit, your hand stretching out to grab the teacher’s stretched-out hand. 

Your mother watched on happily as you removed your schoolbag and lunchpail and placed them neatly within the somehow middle cubby marked with your name. The teacher also helped you put on your white school slippers before gesturing towards the bright, colorful room, their mouth moving as if explaining every little detail before pointing at the corner. Your mother tilted her head, curious as she followed the teachers point to the corner of the room where a boy with exceptional red and white hair — split perfectly in the middle — sat quietly, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

(Shouto, although he can not remember this day himself, will argue with you and only you that he was, in fact, NOT crying.)

Trying to not allow the shock of the unnatural hair color affect her, your mother watched as you nodded to your new teacher and walked over with clenched fist confidence to the small boy.

She watched as you approached him, your jaw moving as you so obviously spoke, hopefully introducing yourself. The boy looked up at you with bright, wet eyes but seemed to speak right back to you. 

“Alright, parents! Thank you all for dropping off your children! Do not worry. We will take great care of them all, and they are in competent hands! First days are hard for everyone, so if you can exit quietly, I, and the rest of us teachers, would appreciate that greatly!”

Or at least that’s what Rei claimed the teacher said.  However, your mother was watching on with increasing exponential horror as she watched you throw a punch at the air before twisting around and pointing right at her and saying with a voice that was much too loud.

“Punch whoever made you cry, Shouto-chan! My mama says that it is okay to punch bullies!”

Thankfully no one but your mother heard you, and even though she scolded you on the way out, whisper yelling that you “better not punch anyone!” her relief was for naught.

When she would return in the afternoon, a bit late because there had been a hold up on the train, you were pouting sitting on the floor with a scuffled uniform, your arms crossed definitely. Next to you was the boy with red and white hair, equally scuffed next to a white-haired woman and an older white-haired boy.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” she shrieked, racing over to you.

“Y/l/n-san,” the teacher spoke with a tone that indicated disappointment with the subtle undertone of amusement. “Y/n-chan has something to tell you.”

Your mother had taught you many things, she will admit, in your very short life. But sass and annoyment was something not often seen in your household or in you, and to see it so blatantly on your chubby-cheeked face was quickly giving your mother greys.

“Shouto-chan told me that his stupid bully brother Touya was being a meanie, and so I helped him punch him back!” you said with tears in your eyes because you didn’t want to back down from your actions, but you also did not like being scolded. “I don’t regret it!”

“Y/n!”

“Y/n-chan!”

“I don’t either,” Shouto-chan grumbled as your mother collapsed to her knees and began to profusely apologize for you to the woman who was undoubtedly Shouto’s mother. “Touya-nii was making fun of my hair again… y/n-chan helped me, though. Please don’t scold her!”

To say the most in the shortest amount of time, you were, in fact, scolded despite Shouto’s begging. Touya stopped making fun of Shouto’s natural hair. Rei accepted your mother’s apology. The teachers were given two bottles of sake.

And, of course, the most important, the most paramount thing to arise from this first day of school was that your and Todoroki Shouto’s friendship was now bound by blood, sweat, and tears.

Preschool became elementary school, which became middle school, and fading into highschool.

It was without saying that your relationship, your friendship with Todoroki Shouto, was probably one of the biggest, most defining parts of your entire life. He was there when your first tooth fell out, when he dropped ice cubes down people’s shirts, you two had bathed together when you were young, had sleepovers well past the age where him being a boy and you being a girl should have made things weird. You laughed when his voice cracked and dropped, he elbowed your chest plenty when you began growing boobs, you taunted his lack of body hair, he bought you your favorite ice cream and heating packs on your first period. You attended cram school together, went to the park and beaches on days off from school. You were partners in every school activity except under specific circumstances. He had listened to you when you told him excitedly about your first kiss when you turned fourteen, and you laughed when he said at the age of fifteen that he had still yet to kiss anyone.

Everyone always claimed, always asked, wondered, and whispered if the two of you were dating. Childhood friends still this close and not dating? Unheard of; practically illegal! Nevertheless, you ignored the disappointed frowns or the hopeful grins as you and Shouto both denied any sort of romantic connection.

Soon the both of you were in high school, and Shouto was mere days from turning sixteen. Much like when the both of you were when you were four years old, you seemed to be the one spouting many words — sometimes unnecessary words that wound you both up in trouble — of wisdom. You were loud when you needed, talking most of the time only to him and your surprisingly large group of friends. (You weren’t that surprised. Everyone wanted to be friends with the handsome, could easily be royalty or a model, Todoroki Shouto.) Shouto remained, for better or worse, quiet, reserved, and a bit awkward. He was a sweet boy, don’t get it wrong, and you would protect him until the end of your days, but the boy was a complete airhead and relied on you for interpreting social interactions.

“Camie-senpai wants me to go over to her house after my birthday,” Shouto explains, his hands exchanging his school shoes for his outdoor ones. “Something about wanting to do that one second-year first-year student project thing for the third years right away.”

“You have Camie?” you ask, slumping against the metal lockers with a slight thud. “Lucky, she’s so nice… I have stupid Agoyamato. Have you had a conversation with him? It’s actually the worst! He thinks he’s all that!”

“I’m sure it’ll be okay; you’re nice enough that he won’t be like… that,” Shouto smiles, slinging his bag on his shoulders before nudging his head towards the exit. “Ready?”

“Am I ever ready?” you ask with a whine but nevertheless proceed onward.

Time passed, and between cram school, actual school, some clubs, eventually January 11th passed and you held an ice cream cake that Shouto loved. You ate the cake together, relaxing as you sat in the warmth of his kitchen.

“Happy birthday, Shoucchan, never change!” you chirp, shoving his arm that rose to place the piece of cake in his mouth with your shoulder and watched as the sweet pastry splattered on top of the table. “...um?”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run.”

“Only ten?! What about the happy birthday boy.”

“Oh, true. Three seconds to run.”

“Why?!”

“It’s my birthday.”

An hour later, when your stomach hurt from laughing too much and the sickly sweet weight of too much ice cream cake, you lay snuggled into Shouto’s side as the both of you watched some old movie.

“Thanks for always being here for me,” you mumble, eyes growing heavy as the heat of Shouto’s body began to lull you to sleep.

“I’m always here for you,” Shouto softly responded, hand gliding up and down the curve of your spine. “We should get you home. Your mom yelled and nearly skinned us both the last time you fell asleep here.”

“Only cuz she’s scared that we’ll have some sudden revelation we like each other and fuck each other’s brains out,” you groaned, absolutely not content with having to move. With your face buried in your hands now, you missed the weird pattern in Shouto’s chest over that.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“...fine, just because it’s your birthday.”

The next day, when Shouto followed Camie home instead of you, there was something that made you feel off as you waved at them goodbye. It wasn’t jealousy, that much you knew, but something worse when you watched the way your never-been-kissed-before best friend was ignorant to the dark eyes Camie sent his way.

To be quite honest, you’re not sure if you should be as surprised as you are when you get a phone call at ten p.m. to the sound of a confused, suppressed, overwhelmed voice of your best friend asking if you could confirm if Camie had fucked him. You then stayed on the phone for Shouto until well past two a.m., your heart hurting as he recounted the memory over and over again. You weren’t sure as to why your heart was breaking. By the sounds of it, Shouto had actually enjoyed it, but with every stammer to his voice, you felt lightyears away.

Most shockingly, however, was the effects this had on Shouto and his overall persona.

From ages four until fifteen, Todoroki Shouto was someone who was quiet, observant, took things a bit too literally, at all times was entirely precious in the way he interacted with people, and most importantly, unaware of the female population who lusted after him. It worked well for you because it was fun to tease him about things, nag him about how he was sixteen, and hadn’t been kissed even though if he asked any girl at school to kiss him, they definitely would. 

But sixteen-year-old Todoroki Shouto was a new shift, a new paradigm for you to learn. It wasn’t that he wasn’t confident before, but now he emitted a sense of confidence that he was aware of, that everyone was aware of. He became mature, sophisticated, styled even. He was still at times quiet, always completely observant. He rarely took things literally and understood rhetoric and sarcasm and hyperboles. Long gone were the days of preciousness, and instead, there was a sense of a predator on the hunt that bled in the way that he talked to people. Most importantly, however, he was fully aware of the female population and precisely who was lusting after him.

He flirted with women and girls. You would find him leaning against the lockers talking with them, somehow trapping them despite not actually trapping them. A new girl was sitting at your table with him practically every week in high school, each girl asking for the hundredth millionth time that the both of you were not dating. Some girls were even bold enough to apologize to you for stealing your best friend — as if you wanted Shouto.

You had already seen his dick, thank you very much (although the last time you saw it was well before you were nine years old), you weren’t missing out on how it probably looked now! Honestly, you had no idea how Shouto never managed to run out of female students to fuck, the school wasn’t that large, and he seemed to go through a few a week sometimes.

But he was your best friend, your childhood friend, and no matter how many girls came crawling back to your lunch table, bawling to Shouto to take him back, soaking the fabric of your skirt to help convince him to take her back, you stayed. You stayed, accepting the fact that your best friend had become an awkward teenage boy and turned into some high school sex freak.

You stayed when his shaggy hairstyle was clipped and became short.

Overnight, just as he went from being a complete virgin to not one, he went from a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy to a leanly built eighteen-year-old hot-ass heartthrob womanizer.

High school wasn’t forever. Even though it took you about a year to accept and integrate Shouto’s new sex life and behavior into your daily lifestyle with him (he always left four of the three days open for you as all his relationships were casual only). Soon enough, the both of you relaxed and found your own relationship to be entirely the same, and when university exams and applications came about, it was decided that yet again, the both of you would follow each other anywhere.

Which is where you were now.

Tokyo University,  a third-year student, living in an upscale three-person apartment with your best friend, of course. Shouto plus someone who practically begged in the most unbegging way to live with you.

Todoroki Shouto and Shishikura Seiji in the same apartment as you made for an interesting combination.

You hadn’t wanted Shishikura Seiji as a roommate at all. Period. 

There were about eleven other people you only considered asking, but they all said no for their own reasons. Bakugou and Midoriya had found their own apartment closer to the University, and for much cheaper, Kirishima and Mina were RA’s and could not move in. Kaminari said he liked Sero’s couch too much to leave, and Sero couldn’t live in an apartment without a balcony. Momo said the room was too small, Jirou said she’d rather continue living with Momo, Uraraka said it was a tad bit too much for her to afford (to be fair, you didn’t have to pay because the Todoroki’s were paying for your housing, but you understood), Tsuyu and Hagakure said they were living at home. Iida said he would be too uncomfortable living with a couple.

Everyone you found on the street wouldn’t accept your offer. Hence, Shouto invited the meatball and rosé obsessed Shishikura Seiji to live with the two of you simply because he was Shouto’s lab partner in one of his advanced physics classes. Stupid chemical engineering nerd.

At twenty-one years, you can now say that you’ve entirely adjusted to Shouto’s womanizer ways. Too often do you find yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, a steaming cup of tea in your hand as you drink it in slowly, watching with much amusement as either a no-name girl leaves or a walk of shame Shouto enters. It happens at most five times a week; you were used to it. While the unease had finally left, you had to admit you were impressed your best friend could easily sleep around as he did and maintain his outstanding grades.

However, just because you were finally used to Shouto’s womanizer tendencies didn’t mean the world was. Even in University, your fellow students would ask with wide eyes and behind flat palms if the two of you were dating — specifically if Shouto was cheating on you or if it was an open relationship. You would each and every time, smile cheekily, shake your head and say with a roll of your eyes: “No, we’re not dating. He’s not cheating, and no, this is nothing more than us being best friends. Sho is too much of a jealous person to allow for an open relationship.”

Somehow, the constant begging of approval and the erasure of any romantic connection between you and Shouto from the plethora of female students at Tokyo University wasn’t even the most annoying part of it all. No, not at all.

What really ground your nerves was a pattern you noticed when you were eighteen.

Unlike Shouto, you hadn’t had the chance to lose your virginity until you were eighteen. Most of the boys who liked you always assumed you and Shouto were dating, the ones who gathered the courage to ask you out anyways were boys you were less than impressed with. By some act of some higher god, your crush — the school's third-year baseball team's captain when you were a first-year — reappeared in your life and asked you out. It wasn’t your best decision, you can fully admit it, but he was friendly and sweet as he fucked you in his small bed.

You hadn’t expected sex to be like that, and if you had enjoyed this, you couldn’t help but wonder just how Shouto was in bed to have girls behaving like that.

However, the spell was broken when he helped you change back into your clothes, and he begged you not to tell Shouto he was the person you cheated on him with.

It was on this day that it clicked.

What went for him, unfortunately, went for you too.

Except where girls rose to the challenge to dethrone you from Shouto’s side (a shame because they were vying for a seat that you had no claim over), the boys lowered their head like some damn omega to Shouto’s alpha.

Disgusting.

Even with the plentiful, plethora, consistent denial of your relationship with Shouto, even with the tally of girls, Shouto’s bedded (and more excitedly, deflowered — ugh!) rose consistently, no one ever really believed you weren’t dating him! Too many a time, you had been centimeters from making out with a guy for them to pull away, screeching that they couldn’t allow you to betray Shouto. The men who didn’t care were sleezebags, and thus, with a growl and a snarl, you found that you were only able to fuck men who thought jackhammering their fingers into your labia — yes, your labia — would make you cum.

You didn’t want to say you hated your childhood best friend for such duplicitous, selfish reasons… but you did.

But today was Saturday, a few months into the new second semester of the school year, and with school spirit once again high and workload low. The entire campus was brimming with parties, celebrations, alcohol drinking competition, sleazy dancing, and enough sexual tension to kill all celibate people.

So, we look back to where we started.

Shishikura Seiji running away as you nestled back against Shouto’s chest.

“I didn’t think he was actually going to drink these things,” Shouto sighed, spinning the last few remaining drinks of his rosé in his hand. “It’s been in the fridge for almost five months.”

“He probably made his meatballs again and needed something terrible to blame the flavor on,” you half joke half say in complete seriousness. You were not fond of Shishikura at all, and he was not fond of you either. He had a tendency to mansplain everything, which continuously ground on your nerves, especially when he had no jurisdiction to act so confidently.

He was a physics major, not a goddamn god.

Fuck off.

“I feel sorta bad,” Shouto sighs, his hand low and warm on your waist. “But I will admit, these drinks are practically like carbonated water.”

“2% alcohol,” you stress, your grin widening as you pull away from his chest to stare at him. Your gaze is bright, and his eyes are filled with amusement. “You’re either the world's lightest lightweight or a child with no tolerance to actually expect to get drunk off this shit.”

“I think you’re slurring your words already though, you sure you’re okay, lightweight?” Shouto teases, his soft smirk teasing.

“Who was the one who took three shots and passed out?” you wonder innocently, finger to your chin as if you were trying to remember.

“At least I don’t throw up when I crossfade.”

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT. MY BIOLOGY JUST HAPPENS TO WORKS THAT WAY!”

“Alright, bitch,” Shouto snorts, completely unattractively, “hurry up and get ready, yeah? We have a party we’re already late to, and we have no drinks for an actual pregame.”

You squeal excitedly, having forgotten the massive party that was being held a few blocks away. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

Typically, when you went out partying, you went with the group of eleven people you would have rather replaced Shishikura as a roommate. To get ready for said parties, you would always find yourself at Momo’s place with an outfit change, makeup bag, and hair styling items. You had made it a tradition with the other girls to get ready together. The only exceptions to which this wouldn’t happen was when someone had a work event or some family thing come up.

In your case, you had been stuck at a professor's office, diligently helping to put together their research journal as they were in their final steps of publishing their findings. Due to your friendly relationship with your professor, the time had been lost, and your ten p.m. call time to arrive at Momo’s had been missed with a quick:

↳ held up at work! go on without me, sorry! see you at the party!!!!

When you crashed through the front door of your apartment, you froze, seeing Shouto in the hallway by the mirror. Sometime between getting his haircut to be shorter and from this day, he had begun to style his hair by threading it back by his fingers, and boy, it looked fucking good. He was already dressed up for the party. Black joggers, a white t-shirt that was a bit too small if the tight, seductive way it clung to his muscles spoke of anything, and a hoodie he had no care about in case he lost it after taking it off once getting there. Shouto was practically immune to all weather types, he could be in both snow or fire without a single worry, but he knew that a large sweatshirt that smelled like him was enough to hook and line any truly desperate female.

Shouto had chuckled, taking in your frazzled state with years of practice and nudged toward the fridge, already knowing that you had missed your pregaming with the girls.

“Shishikura has two rosés left. Grab ‘em, and we can pregame together.”

But that was all unimportant and already said.

In the end, it took you thirty minutes to get ready.

You had practically smeared on your makeup, hoping the warm, crazy miscoloring would be hidden within the crazy light show the party would definitely be displaying. Your outfit consisted of a tank top that exposed your cleavage and a skirt that hugged your legs and ass just right.

You came stumbling out of your room, fingers trying to shove on your earrings, the rings on your fingers clicking loudly against each other. You smiled breathily, gratefully accepting Shouto’s sweater as you slipped on your comfortable heels at the doorway before hurrying out.

Shouto kept an arm around your shoulder the entire way out, the immense heat of his body keeping you warm as his sweater rested lazily, awkwardly, around your shoulders and arms. You didn’t want to put it entirely on to save your makeup, and in case anyone had any fucking thing to say about the show you and Shouto were putting on. Eventually, the bright and comical conversation between you and Shouto began to grow louder as the pounding of dance music began to ring in your ears. Soon enough, you passed a few drunk people, more and more, until you reached the house where the party was.

Shoving the sweatshirt into Shouto’s chest, you grinned as the smell of alcohol, weed, over-cologne men and women, the faint smell of puke, and the gross crawl of BO flooded your nose.

Ah yes, nothing like a university party.

Shouto laughs at your evident piqued excitement, and after he pulls on the light blue sweatshirt, he grabs your hand, and into the overcrowded home you go.

The intense heat of overcrowded bodies on a dance floor that also makes up a drinking game floor makes you grateful for your choice of clothes. Everyone around you is already drunk, sloshed, intoxicated off their ass as unknown drinks spill from their red Solo cups, sometimes even raining down on you. You grimace as Shouto continues to pull you through. You can taste the Hennesy on your upper lip and somehow know that whoever was drinking it was a freshman with a vendetta to kill his liver and love for drinking before coming of legal age.

“What do you want to drink?” Shouto yells over the nearly obnoxiously loud music. He has his sight on the drinks counter. “Mixed or the juice?”

“Fuck me up with the jungle juice!” you yell right back, pressing to his side as two dancing (see, vigorously dry-humping) nearly trample on top of you. “Parties are meant to be a non-sober event. I need to be borderline blacked out five hours ago!”

The agreeing chuckle from Shouto isn’t heard by you at all, but you can feel his chest give a familiar vibration as finally, he pulls you from the sea of bodies to where the floor is especially wet and sticky. You’ve reached the bar area.

Grabbing your own red Solo Cup, you watch as Shouto makes his own drink. Heavy on the alcohol, light on the mixer, and a good handful of ice (he’s always liked the cold better). His hand reaches for your cup and you offer your cup up as he opens up an ice chest filled with neon-colored jungle juice.

When the drink is returned to you, the both of you cheers and take a long drink.

“Y/N!”

“Y/N-CHAN!”

“You’re finally here, you fucking slut! Getcha fat ass over here now!”

Your neck is twisted to see the absolutely plastered group of girls you considered to be your closest friends, and you laugh loudly.

“Seems like I’m needed,” you yell at Shouto, trying your best to act nonchalantly as he smiles knowingly at you. “Text me about what you decide to do if we don’t see each other?”

“Of course,” he simply responds before placing the curve of his cup back onto his lip as hands grabbed your arms and whisked you away.

In a matter of sixty minutes, you all had played five drinking games.

The girls felt it was imperative to get you to their level right away, so they started off with a game of King’s Cup. Not only was the deck rigged against you — you pulled all four of the four cards and thus had to chug four times — but you had drawn the last King and drank some weird concoction of jungle juice, a tequila shot, a vodka shot, and whatever the fucking hell Mina was drinking. How you managed to chug that and stay on your feet was beyond you, but it was without saying that you had utterly and inevitably caught up with the girls.

After the King's Cup came the Flip Cup game, your team won thankfully due to Mina’s one flip wonder as Kaminari struggled to down the shot in the cup.

After Flip Cup came Smoke or Fire, a game that had Tsuyu stuck on the bus for a record-breaking one round. No one could believe she did that.

Then came a round of Shot Roulette to end with what you were currently doing now, using a drinking card game Momo had made in her spare time to do embarrassing things at random.

Five games in an hour… you questioned if there was by any chance illegal substances in the jungle juice because it had felt like a whopping two minutes.

“It’s midnight!” Hagakure hollered, stumbling backward as she grinned in drunken, stupid happiness. She giggled before singing, “Midnight… memoriessss~!”

Mina groaned at the reference but completely perked up as the dance music changed suddenly from its slightly mellow, good vibe song to none other than Everytime We Touch by Cascada. By tradition, by applicable law by all and every god, when this one song played, everyone needed to stop what they were doing and immediately head to the dance floor.

With your hand slightly sticky with alcohol, and your mind absolutely clouded with alcohol, you whooped loudly as Mina dragged you to the dancefloor. 

You, seven girls, formed a closed circle, your Solo cups sloshing over with alcohol, and your faces scrunched tight as you danced and sang as loudly as you could. Each pounding beat of music vibrated in your chest, each offkey note sung by the party-goers making you feel light, happy, dizzy, and oh so perfectly drunk. For just a split moment, you lock eyes with Shouto, who’s across the dance floor, his arms wrapped around some girl you don’t recognize, eyes drinking you in. You smile for a bit before turning back around, arms rocketing up to the air with your excitement.

Although the song ended, the DJ continued to play bangers, and you never once stopped in your mirthful dancing and grinding against your friends as the night continued to carry on. But when you spun out from Mina, your entire world spinning with it, a pair of warm, heavy, large hands rested on your waist, and you laughed.

“Who is this?” you ask, head slamming backward to try and look at the person who had caught you yet hadn’t tried grinding against you. “Oh, Inasa? Hi!”

Yoarashi Inasa was one of your University's well-known jocks. He was a skilled runner, one of the best Japan has ever seen despite his body type telling you he was a bodybuilder. Immediately your smile of idiotic stupor became intentful, seductive, still bordering extreme intoxication. Was Inasa your type? No, not really, but you could reasonably and accurately say that he was a handsome man, with a fantastic body, not to mention a pleasant personality.

You also itched to know what his dick looked like.

This was definitely someone you could see yourself fucking tonight.

“Hi, y/l/n,” Inasa said, his naturally loud voice easily picked up on despite the music being blasted in your ear. “How’s your night going?”

You lick your dry lips, eyes blinking a few times before you turn in his arms, your arms stretching so that you could wrap them around his neck. “Better now that you’re here,” you smile shyly. “How’s yours.”

“Ahem,” Inasa blushes, his eyes staring straight at your cleavage before looking back up at you. “H-Hoping to get better from here! Well, I’m sure it will be.”

“Oh?” you ask, your confidence building faster and faster as you press further against him. “Anything you have in mind?” —you press your thigh suggestively against the semi-hard spot against his jeans. — “Anyway... I can... help?”

Inasa groans deep in his chest, his head knocking backward at your implications, the pleasant vibrations passing on to you. You grin, fingers scraping against the bottom of his buzzcut and bringing him closer, praying for a kiss. But as he returns his head back down, his gaze leaves yours for a split second, and you watch in horror as a sobering look washes over him.

“Actually… you’re here with some random dude, right? I don’t want to step on his toes. I thought I saw you come in with some guy; sorry y/l/n, I can’t do this.”

And just as quickly as he was against you, he was gone.

It took everything in you not to screech bloody murder over the fact that you were once again left horny with no man to take responsibility for it.

Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party With Shouto: 78% Calculated Rate of Not Getting Dicked Down When I Want to Get Dicked Down When Coming to a Party Without Shouto: 22%

Walking home alone, cold, and with extreme bitterness towards Yoarashi Inasa was a sadly sobering experience. By the time you collapsed onto your bed, you were only slightly buzzed, boarding sobriety while not being sober exactly.

Fuck men.

Fuck their cowardness over a nonexistent romantic/sexual relationship between you and Shouto.

But also… you really wanted to fuck men right now.

The slicked horniness of the potential thought of bedding Inasa had made its unignorable appearance via your soaked panties. You hated yourself, hated your biological needs and lusts.

“I’ll wring Shouto’s neck in front of all of them next time,” you grumble to yourself. “Stage a fake breakup for an imaginary thing…”

Nestling further into your pillows, your eyes closed, body relaxing against the bed when a peculiar sound seemed to echo in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Your eyes slammed open, your jaw-dropping at the very obvious, entirely embarrassing sound of Shouto having sex on his desk sounded in your room! Of course it sounded in your room. His desk was pressed to your wall because that would mean whenever he was his icky womanizer self, you wouldn’t have to hear anything! Your rooms were soundproof but apparently not movement proof.

The thwack of the wood desk slammed against the wall, and with your ear so close to the wall, you began to hear the shaky, intense breathing of Shouto. The whines, keens, and screams of the girl he was fucking as she begged for more. Sobbing that his cock was too much for her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Your panties soaked even more, and with a brain that somehow retracted back into its state of stupor, your fingers brushed against your swollen, ready clit.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong, you thought, the sounds of pitched whining against the stupidly impressive, steady, consistent fucking.

Your mind was a drunken fever. 

Your eyes closed not all the way, yet blind to the wall before you as your finger danced and teased against your demanding clit.

You whined softly, matching the groaning of Shouto, who banged something other than the desk into the wall.

For a moment, just this once, you wanted to be the one desperately clinging to Shouto’s back, hips snapping and circling in tandem to his, allowing him to drill his cock deep within you. Your back arched, heat reaching your toes, buzzing filling your lips.

“Yes, fuck, right there, Todoroki!” the girl screamed, begged, and prayed. “Oh my god, yes, yes yes, right there, right the— mmph!”

You find your teeth sinking into your fist, trying to keep your pounding, horny induced brain from crying out. You wanted to know what he was doing to her, if he had kissed her silent, shoved his fingers in her mouth. Maybe he had fucked her so good she couldn’t possibly say more.

There is nothing from Shouto you can hear, no noises of praise, nothing except the occasional ragged breath that seems to permeate through the walls and whisper sweetly, teasingly, like a succumbs in your ear.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It increases, in noise, the wall separating your room from his beginning to rattle, shake in his conquest.

Your fingers are wet, entirely slippery with your conquest, your hips thrashing against your touch, clinging to a phantom memory of the last male you had managed to fuck. Then, as your stomach trembles with the orgasm that's mere seconds from blessing you with a release, you hear him—Shouto.

“Fuck.”

It’s not much. If anything, this girl should be so embarrassed she hasn’t been able to elicit a loud response from Shouto, but it’s a verbal gift from heaven above for you. His voice, tight, husky, drenched with a driving lust, whispers to you and only you, wrapping you in this blanket of solitude and need. 

With your back arching from the mattress, your hips leaving the soft surface, and your jaw growing slack, your moan is silent, unheard by no one but the heavens as you cum. Heat floods throughout your entire body, tickling and twirling in you until you can’t do anything but shudder, shaking as you fall back down on your bed, dizzy and completely satisfied. 

You don’t think about it.

Don’t try to unpack just what happened right now because the reality that you had just masturbated to the sound of your childhood best friend fucking some random girl is a bit too much. Even for you.

So you don’t think about it, and soon the thudding of the desk on the wall is nothing but a drumming lullaby, and sleep consumes you.

When you wake up, you don’t remember what you did.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, your party clothes abandoned completely so that you’re wearing nothing but a large shirt you had stolen from Shouto years ago. You scratch your belly as you walk into the bathroom, eyes caked with your sleep still as you begin brushing your teeth.

As you brush your teeth, you begin to take off last night's makeup — well, whatever remained of it.

Spitting out the last foamy remains of the paste from your mouth, you rinsed your mouth before washing your skin. You looked much more awake now. Slapping your cheeks in an encouraging, ‘im a functional human adult taking part in some random face wash commercial,’ you exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen. 

Shishikura was already in the kitchen, his face expressionless, entirely dead to the world as he scooped some rice into a bowl and topped it off with some eggs.

“Morning,” you yawn, arms stretching over your head as you near closer to your unwanted roommate.

Shishikura sneers at you, but even he was more polite in the morning, sometimes.

“I heard the both of you get back last night,” Shishikura mocked, slamming the lid to his rice cooker with an unimpressed scowl. “You were thirty minutes apart. You know, if you two still want to be partying like a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, do it respectfully.”

Your smile back at him is as fake as he is, and you refuse to move out of the way as he tries to walk back to his room. He growls — gross? — and sidesteps you, grumbling the entire way back to his room as you roll your eyes at his retreating form.

What a child.

You entered the kitchen, fixing up your own things for breakfast.

Kettle brewing hot water for tea, rice cooker on for your own rice (you make enough for Shouto too), and you begin cooking some ham and eggs, readying yourself for a Sunday for going to the library and studying. You hummed to yourself, your phone plugged into the speaker as your music filled the quiet morning air.

You bobbed your head in rhythm with the music, your eyes concentrating on slowly cooking eggs as you poured the hot water from your kettle into the teacup. As you placed your teabag in, you looked up to the sound of a creaking door and grinned wickedly as a girl with light blue hair walked out of the hall you and Shouto’s room were in.

Her dress was rumbled, a few blooming red and purple marks sitting prettily on her collarbone, and her face flushed red as she began to scurry out.

“Bye!” you call out, laughing at the scared eep from the girl and the disgruntled groan from Shouto’s room.

You set down your tea, flipping the eggs in the pan as you heard more shuffling before finally, Shouto made his appearance. He was in nothing but grey sweatpants that sat so low on his waist you could not only see the band of his boxer-briefs, but you were entirely aware of the v-lines, the abs, the pecs, and the small happy trail from his belly button down. You also noted that there was not a single mark on his body, and you wondered if he had ever taken a single mark from a one-night fuck before.

God really cursed you with an objectively attractive best friend, huh.

“Morning, slut,” you sing, noticing with happiness that your rice cooker sang a merry tune, indicating that the rice was done. “Breakfast?”

“Mm,” Shouto grumbled, his hands rubbing his face as he trudged closer to the kitchen, taking a spot on one of the stools. “Depends. Did you make it?”

“...I always make it.”

“I think I like Shishikura’s breakfast better.”

Silence.

You glare at Shouto, and in turn, his lips press to a comfortable, teasing smile.

“Fend for your damn self then.”

Shouto laughed loudly as you began to stubbornly fix yourself a bowl of both your servings. You ate far less than he did, but still enough to fill you until after three pm, so the size of your bowl was hysterical. 

“You’re such a horrible wife-roommate,” Shouto accuses, standing up from the stool and entering the kitchen to try and persuade you otherwise to give him his own food. “And here I thought that you liked cooking for me.”

“Go tell your stupid wife-roommate Shishikura instead,” you cry loudly, the faux sniffles from you stupidly fake as you begin to shovel a mouthful of rice and eggs into your mouth. “I’m shwure you’chll beh happ t’gther!”

“That’s absolutely disgusting, y/l/n,” Shouto accuses, his nose scrunching as he traps you in his arms, mouth trying to intercept the food moving from your bowl and into your mouth. 

With another desire to prove how unsatisfied in your roommate-marriage you were, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue full of uneaten, partially chewed rice.

“Ea’ eh!” you mocked, your grin growing as Shouto’s initial instinct was to whip his head away from you.

But as always, because Shouto enjoyed being incredibly annoying, he went after your tongue, readying to eat the chewed-up food off your very tongue. 

Eventually, you gave Shouto back his part of the breakfast, laughing as the both of you chatted about who was going to repay Shishikura for the used rosés. Neither one of you could decide, and so it was something to be solved later. Noon, however, came and with a nod, you accepted Shouto’s hug goodbye, to which you twisted his nose triumphantly as you waddled out of the front door, clothed in your winter gear, textbooks, and laptop,

It was time to brave the world and get this paper done.

“Mina, I mean… absolutely no offense when I say this, but it still shocks me every time you say you’re a chemistry major. You just seem so…”

“Dumb?”

“Yeah.”

“You gotta be some kind of stupid to willingly take inorganic chem,” Mina laughed, balancing her textbooks on her head as the both of you climbed the stairwell to the library’s study rooms. “That's why I have the dance minor! Best of both worlds!”

“Could never forget about that,” you laughed as the both of you neared the top of the stairwell.

You didn’t mean to notice him. As a matter of fact, most of your failed conquests at parties never amounted to much anger from you, but seeing Inasa from across the way, his face buried in some aerodynamics textbook, anger boiled in you. On the way to meeting with Mina, you had realized your mistake last night and how you wouldn’t have made said mistake if it hadn’t been for Inasa! You could’ve been dicked down, slammed against your bed and wall as the giant of a man fucked you!

“I’ll be right back,” you sneered, eyes narrowing as you passed your textbook to Mina.

With fire following in ever long, powerful stride, you blinked and immediately found yourself before Inasa.

“Hi. Wanna explain what happened last night?”

Inasa reacted as if you had shot him, his knees coming up to hit the table, his body knocking backward, and he tumbled, crashing to the floor as you watched with a gaping mouth.

“Y-Y/L/N!” Inasa shouted, his face going through half a billion emotions before settling in anxiety-filled fear. You watched, horrified yourself, as he swung to his knees, his head crashing to the floor as he began apologizing to you. “GOODMORNING, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?!”

“Pipe it down, Inasa!” you hiss, your cheeks flooding with embarrassed heat as you garnered the attention of everyone on the floor. “I’m not going to hurt you! I just wanted to talk!”

“Aha, yes, of course!” Inasa laughs, a full belly laugh. He sits up and you freeze seeing the bloodied cut on his forehead. He stands up, completely unaffected by the gash on his forehead, and uprights his chair before sitting comfortably. “How can I help you?”

“What happened to you last night?” you try again, eyebrow raised, arms crossed definitely and awkwardly because yeah… you were confronting a guy who didn't want to sleep with you. “You were into me and then suddenly wasn’t.”

Inasa laughs more, although nothing you said, implied, or did was even remotely funny.

Irritation runs through your veins.

“Inasa, please,” you sigh in helplessness, your eyes annoyed, pleading, and hopeful that he would be the one to finally give you an actual reason.

“It’s… it’s not you. If that’s what you’re wondering,” Inasa finally sighs. His face turns uncharacteristically solemn as his tongue passes through his lips, his shoulders raising to a shrug. “Typically speaking, you are exactly who and what I want when I endeavor in less than chivalrous but still passionate activities. I wanted you last night, and I will not lie that even as I left, I regretted behaving as I did.”

“Well, you did it, and it sorta really sucked,” you laugh, your mouth taut in a frown as your feelings are genuinely hurt.

You keep being put down, and there’s no reason for it.

Why couldn’t you be as sexually active as you wish you could be?

“...Todoroki has a claim on you,” Inasa spoke slowly, his mouth dipping from a usual smile to a frown. “I know you guys aren’t together, but in a way, you two are.”

“No,” you say with complete certainty, anger burning in your chest, “we’re not.”

“Try telling Todoroki that,” Inasa shrugs, his fingers scratching through his buzz cut. “Listen, I wanted to have intercourse with you last night; I did. I also am aware that Todoroki is a womanizer, but he said you were off-limits for all of us.”

“He said that?” your voice is perfectly calm, not showing the raging fire in you.

“Well, no, he definitely did not,” Inasa sighs, the palm of his hands pressing tightly against his eyes. “He has never said it… but it’s the way he talks about you, how he looks at you. It’s a claim on you, even if it’s not a verbal one, and well, no one wants to defy him.”

Your nostrils flare in your irritation, and you find that you’re stepping into Inasa’s personal space, his eyes going wide as you step between his legs and press your hands on his chest.

“I’ll be going home in about five hours. If you still want to fuck me, wait for me,” you say slowly, trying to make sure he understands. “I don’t care if Sho looks at me the way he does; he is not my boyfriend.”

Inasa gulps, his tan skin sporting a healthy pink flush, “Yes, ma’am.”

Five hours later, you’re walking into your apartment with Inasa behind you, his warm, slightly sweaty hand clasped in yours. You make eye contact with both your roommates, Shishikura, whose eyes are rolling to the depths of his skull, and Shouto, who looks like a wall. You, despite the anger you’re feeling for Shouto, smile prettily, then grin wolfishly as you corral Inasa towards your room. You send your roommates a wink before closing the door with a decisive click.

Much like you assumed the night prior, your drunken hazed, lust-driven, anger-flared thoughts proved to be right. Inasa fucked you against the wall, deep into the mattress, he drilled and fucked you until his dick was wet with your slick, and his leg was trembling with his plentiful unleashed loads. But you weren’t done yet, too many times have you been denied, and even though Inasa was trembling, his voice shaking with desperate pleas to slow down or he would cum too fast, you rode him with powerful, swiveling hips.

Once he left, you felt light again.

Your head light, body glowing as you dressed your bruised, cum slick body in a robe as you trudged to the bathroom. You showered, letting the warm water and sweet-smelling oils drench your body before you eventually exited, your hair in a towel, Shouto’s shirt on your person again.

Waltzing to the living room, you grinned as you collapsed on the couch, every grievance you held when you walked in forgotten at the moment.

“Hello,” you smile, your head falling onto Shouto’s lap who was, at the moment, very interested in his phone. Shishikura was gone, undoubtedly leaving in case he heard something he didn’t want to hear during your little four-hour sexscapade. “I am a leaf flowing through the river right now, if you’re wondering.”

“Don’t need to wonder. You were perfectly loud enough,” Shouto grumbled, his eyes rolling. “Says something that I could, considering the rooms are soundproof.”

“I should hope so! After you, the girls rave that Inasa is the best fuck on campus,” you hum, still on a delirious high as you attempt to reach for your best friend's hand to grasp. But to your shock, Shouto jerks away from your touch, and he stands, letting your head fall roughly on the couch. And just like that, your anger is back. The emotion Inasa had managed to fuck out of you for a bit returned at full force. “Shouto?!”

“What?” he snaps.

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“My problem is that you brought someone to fuck at fucking five p.m.,” Shouto explains, his expression like the void, empty, dark, menacing. “We agreed to keep it until past ten.”

Your face screws up as you push up off the couch, “Are you kidding me?! I’ve seen you constantly bring girls to fuck at any and all times of the day! Don’t suddenly bring that shit in when it clearly isn’t an actual rule in this apartment!”

“You were also being obnoxiously loud,” Shouto narrows his eyes at you.

“You are too!”

“When am I ever?”

“I literally listened to you fuck that girl last night against our shared wall!”

“You moved your bed to our shared wall?! When?!”

“Doesn’t matter! I would’ve heard it just fine on the other side!”

“The girl wasn’t even that fucking loud!” 

“You can’t ever remember the names of the girls you fuck! Do you know anything about them ever? Are you even using condoms?!”

“You only ever fuck men with questionable personalities.”

“Gee, I wonder fucking why!”

The two of you were nose to nose, anger flaring and near tangible between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he grits slowly.

“I’m talking about you mad dogging any male human who so much as looks or thinks of me!” you snap, finger shoving between his pecs. “No one touches me because somehow they respect the way a womanizer looks at me.”

“I’m not looking at you in any special way,” Shouto squints his eyes, completely not having your accusations.

“Even if you don’t, this fucking behavior is pathetic of you!” you say, hands motioning between you two and the room. “I had sex, and you’re acting like some pathetic child! I have been putting up with your sex-craze tendencies since we were sixteen, asshole! Sixteen! If I want to gloat and float about having sex, then I fucking deserve to.”

His nostrils flare, his upper lip curling in a small twitch before he rolls his eyes and walks away.

“That’s right, Todoroki,” you laugh bitterly at his retreating form. “Walk away from a fight because you can never win them.”

It took a bit for the dust to settle, but as soon as it did, you realized in horror that you and Shouto had, for the first time ever, fought.

Being roommates with Shouto was always a fun thing. Having your childhood best friend right at your disposal meant that you could have dinner nights, movie nights, game nights, morning waffles, hikes, and literally anything whenever and wherever you wanted. He was a person to talk to when the days were long, and there was no one else in the world, the person who was there for you through thick and thin. But for two days, he had been locked away in his room, unwilling to look at you, refusing to be anywhere near you.

Your friends had noticed immediately.

The way the both of you hadn’t shown up together, the way you sat at opposite ends of the table, refusing to be trapped in a conversation together. Separate the two of you were, and the world acted as if Earth had dropped out of gravity.

You could care less right now.

You were rightfully mad at him! How dare he act so pettily over you having a sex life when you were expected to blink, turn the other way, and laugh when he would shower after a girl would leave before joining you on the couch to watch a movie. He was in the wrong, not you!

But even if you were unwilling to budge and he was refusing to see things the way they should be, you were now incredibly lonesome. So as you sat with your back on the mattress. Your butt to the wall, and your legs kicking against the wall, you thought of what you could do. With a bitter sigh, you rolled off your bed and scurried out of the apartment. Nothing but your wallet and ID on you so that you could get to the store on the first floor of the complex.

Holding the item in hand, you knocked on a door, your gaze already on the floor, embarrassed that you were going to do what you had to do.

“What?” came the annoyed voice of Shishikura, the door to his room opening as he looked at you unimpressed and very obviously unwelcomed.

“Truce?” you asked, raising the six-pack of Angry Orchard Rosé Cider. 

Shishikura looks at you, at the ciders, then back at you.

“Fine.”

How in the world you’re drunk off of four rosé ciders is beyond you, but you are. You’re in the living room, laughing so hard that your stomach hurts as you’re trying not to snort the liquid from your mouth and out your nose. Shishikura is equally plastered off of one drink, his red a ruby red against his purple hair. He’s leaning against you, his breathing ragged, near asthmatic as he tries to once explain just how Shouto looked like when some girl slapped him across the face yesterday for ghosting her after sex.

“He was so shocked!” Shishikura squeaked out, his voice pitchy and incredibly high as he laughed more and more. “You should have seen it!”

Your feet kicked at the air, your face and lungs burning with a fire you hadn’t felt in so long as your laughter turned silent. You gasped for air, trying to contain yourself but failing hysterically.

“Do you wa’ another meatballsh?” Shishikura suddenly asked, his hands flailing to grab his plate of meat. “I think you want another o’.”

“I wan’ ‘ne!” you cried with a slight slur, tears of joy slipping past your eyes to which you haphazardly scrubbed them off your face. “They’re soooo good! I didn’t think they could be so… be so good!”

You find yourself eating another meatball, drinking it down with the cider and feeling happy again. Shishikura goes still by your side, and you hum in wonder, unfocused eyes trying to find what had caught his attention and falling onto the one man you were mad at currently.

Shouto was standing at the apartment entrance, dressed in ripped black jeans, a tight grey turtleneck sweater, and his backpack slung on his shoulder. It was, without a doubt, a studying-only outfit. You knew and have discussed too many times with Shouto about how he never trusted women to take his turtlenecks off without potentially ruining the fabric.

“Well, someone’s finally home... from a night of beddin mo’ women, huh?” a voice spoke, but you were completely unsure if it was you or Shishikura who said it.

Judging by the way Shouto’s eyes locked on Shishikura and not yours, it seemed it was him who said it.

“No, I was doing something,” Shouto retorted, his hand gripping the strap of his backpack, his eyes shifting between you and Shishikura. “A paper for class.”

“Sure,” you end up speaking up, your voice sounding completely sober. You sit up so that your elbow is resting on Shishikura’s nearest shoulder. You raise the glass bottle to your lips, drinking its content without care, never once breaking eye contact. “What was the paper's name? You going after your TA? Or was it a professor by chance?”

Shouto’s eyebrows furrow, his face completely unimpressed by your comeback, but he remains silent.

“He looks like he’s trying to cosplay that one Young The Rock picture, no way would a dignified professor or TA fuck him!” Shishikura laughed with a loud bark, and all of a sudden, that was all you could see too.

The both of you howled with laughter, laughing and slapping each other as you attempted to drink the last bits of the rosés as Shouto rolled his eyes and walked away.

“This is fun. No wonder why you guys do it to me so often.”

-

As time does, it moves forward.

It seemed as if the entire campus had tuned in to what had transpired between you and Shouto. No one the slightest bit sure as to what happened, but everyone knew something big had happened. There was no more walking together before classes or after classes, no weird Instagram or Snapchat stories of the other, both of you never having to excuse yourself because you had plans with the other. Even though they claimed to not care about other people’s business, the school was suddenly invested in the single speculation that Todoroki Shouto’s and Y/l/n Y/n’s relationship was over.

“Breaking News, it was never a real relationship!” you would scream the first few times you heard it, which only worked to make them whisper louder that you were in further denial.

For the last seventeen years of your life, you had never gone more than two days without talking or seeing your childhood best friend. Those two days happened when Rei had experienced a staggering, hospital-inducing breakdown from stress and had subsequently burned Shouto when you were five years old. The two days were because he spent four days in the hospital. The first two days, he was not allowed visitors as the hospital staff put him under a coma to help his body from entering shock and heal. Of course, the moment he was awakened, you were dragging your mother to his bedside.

That was the only time you hadn’t seen or spoken to Shouto consistently.

But since Sunday evening, you had only seen Shouto once when you were drunk with Shishikura. You had only spoken to him then too.

For the first time in seventeen years, you broke your record of not talking or seeing Shouto.

From two days to five.

It was weird.

You felt almost empty.

So when Mina and Uraraka placed their arms around your shoulders, their eyes dead serious, you knew that they had a distraction for you.

“The deltas are throwing a party,” Uraraka spoke with mystery. “It is on Saturday.”

“It is only right that we go, get our asses so drunk our blood is practically a distillery, and fuck anyone who looks at us a second longer than anyone else,” Mina agrees, her tone wise and knowing as she nods her head.

“Our question to you is:” they spoke together, their voices weirdly, obviously practiced, in synch. “Are you in?”

Your tongue is pressed between your lips, your fingers pressing against the textbook you were using to help support your essay’s thesis, and you roll your eyes.

You grin.

“Obviously.”

And as time promises each and every time, Saturday finally came.

“What is our objective tonight?!” Mina screams over the background music that Jirou is blasting in Momo’s larger-than-life bathroom.

“To fuck bitches and get money!” Hagakure, the only one currently not downing a drink, screams back.

“NO, WRONG!” Mina shakes her head, climbing onto the white marble countertops and pointing at Jirou. “Kyo! Your turn!”

“To beat that prick in the sound booth and prove that I’m—”

“NO! Wrong again! Yaomomo!”

“Um, to make everlasting mem—”

“INCORRECT, YOU GORGEOUS PRINCESS! Tsuyu, don’t fail me, babe!”

“Well, it’s to prove to Todoroki that y/n-chan should be able to fuck any person she wants.”

“A bit lengthy, a bit focused on the wrong parts of it, but YES! Tonight’s operation: get y/n a man — preferably Inasa — who fucks the negativity out of her!”

You laugh loudly, rolling your eyes as you lean in closer to the mirror. You hold a Mike’s Hard in one hand, and in the other is your eyeliner as you paint on your makeup. You’re not really hearing the conversations that the girls are having, your own mind too lost in the music, and the swaying you’ve picked up as the three bottles of Mike’s you’ve had in the past thirty minutes are calming down your still frazzled nerves.

You don’t pull away from your reflection until after you’re done smoothing over your favorite lipstick on your pouty lips. You look over at your reflection and see Mina dancing with an awkwardly stiff Jirou and a delightfully giggling Momo on the bathroom countertops. A smile forms on your face, happiness radiating in your chest, and you grin looking at your friends.

But Shouto still sat in your mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Why did it hurt knowing that he was avoiding you as much as you were him?

Why didn’t he just try to corner you?

Why did you care that he didn’t?

He was your best friend in the entire world, since your earliest memories, he’s been there, you reason, your whooping not quite as loud as you watch Jirou awkwardly be sandwich between a grinding Mina and a complacent Momo.

It was his fault you, you further reasoned, smiling widely at Hagakure, who was twirling around you, applying her lipstick as a super crazy never before seen talent of hers. He was the one acting like an idiot over the people you slept with even though you let all the people he slept with slide!

But why did you?

Your brows furrowed slightly, unfurrowing just as quickly as Mina pulled you and Uraraka up onto the countertop with her as Jirou and Momo dropped to the floor.

You fucking were in love with Shouto, damnit! Of course you let the stupid personal things go just to appease him! Your back straightened, your eyes rolling as you began to dance with the Kehlani music thumping in the background, but then you freeze.

You were in love with him.

You loved Shouto.

Not in a friendly, platonic, family way.

In an ‘I would date you if I could and marry you on the prettiest beach in front of the most beautiful sunset’ way.

You found that your body was dancing on autopilot as you began to reassess your thoughts, your actions, your wants with Shouto, desperately trying to disprove this love for him. But no matter what you did, you found that it was true no matter what angle you looked at it.

The bass dropped, and you went stiff, your body standing straight and tall although you felt incredibly, terribly small.

“I love him,” you spoke, although you’re not sure who to. Maybe it was to the laughing gods above you or the crying spirits around you. But the girls heard it for some reason, and they, as they were patiently waiting for these past six, nearly seven days, caught you as you went weak.

Finally, realizing that you were in love with your childhood best friend was not the conclusion you expected from a week's silence from Shouto and you. But as you were currently in a crop top with a mesh shirt underneath and the most ripped jeans you owned, chugging down a neon green and blue nearly toxic alcoholic drink, you realized that being at this party was the right way to conclude this circus of a week.

The rush of the liquid dropping down the beer bong was something you found yourself struggling to keep up with, and you felt some of the liquid pour out of your mouth as you grunt, trailing down your heaving chest, creating an image in your onlookers as you refused to choke or pull away. Swallowing the last bit of the drink, ripping the plastic tube out of your mouth, you threw your hands in the air, Tsuyu, who had held and poured the contents for you, screaming too as she lifted your arm in victory.

You couldn’t really hear the music anymore, much more entranced with the music you were singing on your own, and you were currently holding Mina’s face, touching foreheads with her as you spoke a mantra of your love for her.

“Ashido Mina, you are the baddest bitch in the whole wide world. I love your pink hair and your fat ass, and I would die for you. I love you… so fucking much,” is what you said. How it was actually said and how it was perceived is a whole other story because Mina laughed loudly and allowed you to hug her despite your sticky alcohol body.

Your twenties were the new two’s, it seemed.

“Yo, y/l/n!” a voice yelled, and although you let go of Mina’s face, your arms found a new home around her neck as you turned around.

“Hm?”

Your terrible drunk eyes looked all over before falling on a man wearing a basketball jersey and joggers.

Shindou Yo, one of campus’ manwhores. He had a reputation similar to Shouto, you knew that very well, but you were aware that he was disturbingly creepy. According to many vital witnesses, the man slept with just about anyone willing regardless of gender, so not only did you know what the girls thought of him, experienced with him, there was a wider demographic not even Shouto had entered. Number one thing to be told was the fact that Shindou was into some heavy, dark shit to an extreme, his room reeked of sex, and he himself smelled like booze, weed, and BO. But a strong dick was a strong dick at the end of the day.

“Come play beer pong with me?” he asked, his hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled innocently. “I’ve heard some pretty solid shit about your skills, and I want to see how I add up.”

“I’ll play!” you agree immediately, jumping at the thought of drinking more. “Bu I don’t wa’ beer… ish nashty.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

With your arm still holding onto Mina, you accepted Shindou’s hand and allowed him to drag you off to where he wanted to play the game of beer pong.

The game of beer pong went without a single thing going wrong. You were paired up with Shindou, and Mina had managed to find Kirishima in the crowd before you got to your destination and demanded she have him as a partner and not Monoma.

It was safe to say that you were drunk, disgustingly out of your mind. It was an intense game of Cup Pong, the two different teams equally as bad in the drunken stupor, but finally, the two teams were down to a single cup and Kirishima — who was the only reason why they were winning!!!! — had the last ball. You watched in terrible apprehension, fingers digging into Shinsou’s biceps as Kirishima rose the wet ping pong ball to Mina’s lips and let her blow on it for good luck before bringing it back in and began a few steadying practice throws.

“You know, I’m glad I saw you at this party,” Shindou whispers to you, his head ducking down so that you and only you could hear that.

“Why?” you say a lot louder than you wanted, your heart hammering in fear that you would lose this game.

“Because you’re sexy as fuck,” Shindou spoke, his voice turning deeper, huskier, “and now you’re single.”

You blink, attention stolen from the game as you forgot about the final cup and looked at Shindou with a blank stare and an open mouth.

“What?”

“Cuz you and Todoroki are over,” Shindou explains to you as if you’re a child. “You guys are over, right? That’s all everyone’s talking about, and all us guys are ready to fuck you whenever you’re ready.”

His smirk irritates you, the lust in his eyes angering you as you drop your hold on his arm.

“We weren’t together, and you knew that,” you say, eyes narrowing as the crowd watching the game explodes in raging cheers as Kirishima sinks the ball into the cup. “Why the fuck would Shouto be fucking every girl that walks if we were together? What makes you think I’d be okay with it?”

“You’re a cuck,” Shindou continues on, confidence unaffected. “Oh, are the two of you maybe changing roles now? Does the big guy want me to fuck you in front of him?”

Your fist makes contact with his throat before you can even stop yourself and the cheers quickly turn into gasps.

After apologizing profusely to the party holders, they decided that you could, in fact, stay at the party. Your knuckles throbbed in pain, the alcohol in your system buzzing in you in a way that wasn’t fun or relaxing as you made a simple side-step dance move in the middle of the dance floor. The girls, who had at the beginning of the party, drifted ways, had once more glued themselves at your side on the floor. You weren’t in a dancing mood as you took a drink of what you assumed to be a Moscow mule made by Mina for you to keep you at a high for the rest of the party.

Like hell you would ever let Shouto cuck you!

Let him fuck another woman in front of you?

You would go insane if he ever thought that would be acceptable.

“Down girl, relax!” Mina yelled by your ear. “I thought I was babysitting y/n, not Bakugou Katsuki!”

You startled, realizing that your frown had become a fierce snarl as you danced on the floor.

“Come on, babe, let’s get you feeling good again; let’s enjoy this night!” Mina exclaimed, her hands pushing your drink to your mouth and forcing you to chug the contents of the drink. The red Solo Cup is dropped to the floor as soon as you finish. She grabbed your wrists and began to fluidly move your arms — or as well as she could manage herself because she, too, was drunk.

But with Mina winking and smiling at you, the rest of the girls eventually throw themselves into your linked dance circle, your own negative emotions left and in came joy.

It took about another round of ten songs for the dance circle to be destroyed and to have all of you resuming a rave-like jumping and scream-singing as Jirou finally snuck her way into the DJ booth and succeeded to take over. You spun around at the end of one song, laughing completely out of breath as you clapped your hands together. You often forget that while Jirou only listened to a very specific genre, she was a musical genius who had banger playlists for every occasion.

It seemed frat parties were one of them.

However, the next song had your head tilting backward, your grin spreading even wider as you began to move your hips in slow, distinct movements. Dancing with your hips was something you had learned, something you instilled into your dancing category for as long as you could remember.

The beats were loud, deep, thumping deep in the ground and vibrating with great strength in your chest as you pointed a finger at Mina, who was also dancing similarly to you. Your lips moved as you sang the song quietly, the heat and humidity of the room suddenly pressing onto you like another person. You hummed, flicking the parts of your hair sticking to the nape of your neck off, grateful for the slightly cooler air hitting your sweaty skin.

As you rolled your hips down, your hands fanning yourself, trying to cool down your deliriously warm, alcohol-heated body, you froze for just a bit. A person pressed to your back, your ass pressing against a hot thigh, and a hand resting upon the curve of your thigh, keeping you in place. You might have cared, but the body against yours was a welcomed one. Your hips and ass continuing to move in tandem with the music, deliberate highs and lows, and you worked your way up and down the man's body who met yours with spinning accuracy that made you began to pant, your heart racing because this was hot to you. You raised your arms behind you, clasping onto his neck, keeping him on you.

His hair was soft under your touch, slightly sweaty but threaded and parted between your fingers just too easily. His left hand, which had found a spot on your stomach, was radiating heat, something easily felt due to you only having mesh cloth there.

It was slow.

Sensual.

Somehow familiar.

Absolutely mind-numbing.

His chest broad against your back, muscles strong and tight against you.

He was skilled, practiced. Someone you knew was not going to disappoint you, and as your lust-glazed eyes took in the entirely shocked looks of your friends, you finally turned to look.

Somehow, someway, you weren’t shocked at all to see Shouto’s clouded, dark eyes locking on yours. Your world seems to freeze as something between you and Shouto is so obviously broken between you, forever changing, no longer able to go back. It didn’t matter that this was the first time in almost a week you had seen him, had talked to him, he was there, and you wanted to feel his skin scorching against yours. His touch screamed of his want for you, your recognition of your love for him, and your current lust for him. You were angry, hurt, confused, but you were too drunk to care, too intoxicated on the spell the two of you created on this dance floor.

But even as your world froze, the music continued on.

Grabbing Shouto’s hand, you spun around so that his chest was now pressed against yours, your legs between his. You continued dancing, continued to roll your hips down as you sunk down to the ground as Shouto remained standing, his hand supporting and balancing you as you went down and up. He began to dance with you again, the world seemingly disappearing as the two of you ground and panted heavily in each other's ears.

He pushed forward, and you whined, feeling the blazing swollen heat of his semi-hard cock against your stomach, but you met him there.

Your fingers fisting in his hair as his hands found their way into your back pockets, gripping your ass, and your eyes fluttered shut as his mouth, blazing, intense, and intentful, mashed against yours. You kissed him back immediately, all defenses abandoned to that of your lust, wants, and needs. His mouth was a fire, his kiss a blaze that consumed you, drowned you, made you push for more.

It was a kiss that lasted who knows how long, but by the time you had separated, you could feel the familiar sting to your slowly swelling lips and the song that had ended.

His eyes were a near black, his cheeks flushed, and his arms kept you so close you had to think if you were in the privacy of your home or in public.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice begging, pleading for him.

“I need you,” he responded, his voice equally wishing.

“Take me home,” you speak, lips pressing sloppy, desperate hot kisses to his neck. “Take me home and fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes, okay. Let’s go,” Shouto pants, his hands leaving your ass and grabbing onto one of yours before taking you and dragging you away.

It wouldn’t hit you until much later, but the very first kiss you had ever had with Shouto was in the middle of a dance floor, at a party where the male population had been ready to snatch you up after your relationship with Shouto was so-called over.

You were breathless.

No matter how deep you inhaled, you felt like you weren’t having enough oxygen flooding your veins, filling your lungs. You laugh loudly in the night, uncaring about the strangers you passed looking at you and Shouto, who chuckled and snorted with every giggle you made.

This felt crazy, insane, something serendipitous and not real even in the smallest of bits.

He kissed you.

He wanted you.

He said he needed you.

Wants and needs were different things, but he said need.

He needed you.

Just you.

Your feet ached from the running, but you could only focus on Shouto, your mind filling and swimming in the memory of his body pressed to you. The way his lips ghosted over your neck, and the way he danced against you — with you. The four-block walk back to your apartment seemed too far, and your eyes locked on a nearing alleyway.

With much more strength than you should have, you shoved Shouto into the alleyway, your mouth immediately pressing onto his.

Shouto groaned into your mouth, letting you drink his noises as you pulled him close, consuming him in a messy clash of teeth, spit, and tongue. You whined back, your legs slotting between his thigh and grinding down on the hard muscle. It alleviated the growing, scorching heat in your panties but also intensified it, making you want for more and more and more.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Shouto groaned in your mouth, shifting and guiding your rolling hips his thigh better, more fluid, more intense.

Your eyes barely cracked open, your mouth no longer kissing him put pressing against his in an open mouth pant. Your drunken breath saying nothing but implying the world.

Something Shouto was more than keen on giving you.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered for you to hear, so reverent, so holy. And so that you, the center of his world, the only thing he saw and believed in, knew how passionately, how ardently he believed in you, his mouth slid down your neck, and his teeth sunk in your flesh. He claimed you, praised you, making you a part of him.

“I’m still so mad at you!” you moan, voice pitched, whiny, and deliriously high. “I love you, asshole. I love you, and you sleep around! I love you, and I don’t care if you sleep around, but you care that I sleep around?!”

“I love you too,” Shouto mumbles against your neck, his teeth continuing to press into your skin that seems to explode with heat at the revelation. “I love, and I’m an idiot; I’m so sorry.”

And then he does something with his tongue against your neck, the soft of swipes, the wet tickling heat making your head slam back against the brick wall, and a mangled, strangled moan of unadulterated want emits from you.

“We'll talk about this in the morning,” you pant, fingers fisting in his shirt. “We can fix this, but right now, shut up and fuck me.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m horny,” you interrupt, hips sharply jutting into his leg. “You made me horny. Take responsibility.”

His eyes flashed dark, his nostrils flaring, and your words cemented in his head. He resumed his painting, his worship on your neck as you cried loudly in the alleyway, desperate, needy for more.

It was dizzying to have him on you like this.

For so long, you had only touched him in a few ways, had only ever felt a specific type of warmth. But this was unlike anything you’ve ever done with him, to him. It felt like you were burning and freezing, consumed by heat and energy and everything Shouto. His all too familiar cologne filled your nose, drowning your brain, invading your senses. His frantic heartbeat felt against your own body, telling you exactly how you were affecting him, how you made his heart speed and jump with every breathy whine.

“Fuck, I can’t do this. We need to get home now!” Shouto growls, his hands grabbing you by the wrist yet again and pulling you away.

His strides are long, quick, and powerful. You’re running to keep up, beautifully out of breath, staggering and stumbling to keep up in his objective to get back to the apartment now.

It doesn’t seem to take long before he’s pushing open the doors to the apartment complex, corralling you through the doors and into the elevator to get to the eleventh floor. The elevator doors are behind you, and with no one else in the life, you turn on him and immediately resume your own endeavor of claiming Shouto with your mouth, body, and soul. He matches your intensity, hands roaming from where the clasp of your bra sat to the curve of your ass. He grabbed you, pulled you in closer, the air in his nose staggering as you stammer against his mouth.

Teeth touch lips, tongues in each other's cheeks, and Shouto leads you out of the elevator backward, his one hand on your waist forever steady and the other one holding the key. Your fingers are back in his hair, pulling and tugging sharply on the soft, short strands with nearly disappeared gel. He gets to the door, fumbling with the key as you continue to kiss him, distracting him with the smallest of movements.

“Which room?” he asks against your mouth, pushing you through the threshold, his foot closing the door behind him.

The shoes are haphazardly kicked off and you’re now on your tiptoes to continue kissing him as you were. You tried to think, tried to figure out if you wanted to be surrounded by Shouto’s scent or to have him displayed in your room. His teeth then suckle on your bottom lip, biting down on the swollen, hot flesh just gentle enough that your mind draws a blank and your voice responds on its own.

“Mine.”

You shriek then, Shouto swiftly picking you up off the floor and you panic, hands swatting and beating on him as you scream to let you down. He continues walking, holding you without a worry, his arms remaining strong and firm beneath you. But with your distraction, with your lips no longer pressed sinfully against his, Shouto’s mouth finds a junction point on your clavicle and sinks his teeth down again, claiming you once more.

“S-Sho—” your voice hitches, the feeling too intense for you to process all at once. You hear your room door open and close, and without warning, you’re soaring through the air before collapsing on the bed.

“You think I go to the gym to get muscles for fun?” Shouto taunts, his fingers hooking under the dark grey t-shirt he’s wearing. “Angel, I go to the gym to make sure I can fuck you in any position, against any surface or wall you want.”

Your body feels like it's scorching as he removes his shirt, his muscles rippling and moving seductively with the devious, intentional movement.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Shouto asks, the shirt dropping to the floor, removing all traces of oxygen from your person. He steps closer, fingers circling around your ankle and suddenly pulling you in toward him until you were sitting at the edge, his lips hovering over yours. “Cat got your tongue?”

Your tongue feels dry in your mouth, but your eyes narrow before you push up and capture his mouth back with yours. He kisses you back deeply, bending down so that you begin to shift backward, allowing him the space to crawl onto the bed with you, and at the last moment, your leg wraps around his waist and spins the both of you. Shouto gasps as you pin him onto the mattress, your tongue invading his mouth, brushing and swirling against his, coaxing his own tongue back into your own mouth. With the wet heat in your mouth, your teeth playfully, just gently dig into his appendage and tug.

“No, but it seems like I got yours,” you humor him, your teeth releasing his tongue, and Shouto looks up at you like you were both the sun and the moon, and the stars were a gift to him.

It takes your breath away.

Shouto grins, shifting onto his elbows so that he’s closer to you before kissing you again.

The kiss is growing louder, both your mouths ever so consuming, trying to relay years of repressed, unknown emotions and feelings within a drastic, incredible touch. Your hips begin shifting against his crotch, humping his clothed erection, demonstrating yet again the power and grace you hold in your body.

Shouto’s hands move from your ribs up to your breasts, and with the hot, rough flesh of his skin, he squeezes your tender flesh. You moan into his mouth, hips bucking wildly against him at the sensation. It isn’t a powerful flesh, but a reminder, a demonstration of just what and where he could inflect passionate actions.

Your hands scour his chest, fingernails dragging teasingly down his firm, developed muscles, fingers flicking and teasing at his own exposed nipples. Shouto grunts into your mouth, hips bucking powerfully upward into your clothed cunt, and you splutter at the power behind it. But it seems as though Shouto is over the fishnet mesh shirt and crop top you’re wearing because he’s tugging it out of the waistband of your jeans and commands in a deep, lust-ridden voice: “Off.”

Goosebumps flash across your skin, bubbling and spraying across your sensitive skin as your shirt and crop top join Shouto’s on the floor. Your gasp loudly when Shouto rolls the both of you over swiftly, his mouth immediately pressing hot, viper kisses on your breasts. All thought and reason leave your mind as his teeth nip and pull. His fingers pushing the straps of your bra off your shoulders and shoving your boobs out of the bra in a firm hold.

“You have no idea how fucking long I’ve wanted to touch you, kiss you, fuck you,” Shouto whispers, his tone almost dark as his hot air fans against your already pebbling nipples. “Fuck, angel, you’re better than anything I’ve ever dreamed about.”

You whine loudly, fingers tangling in his hair as you desperately, wordlessly try to persuade him to put his lips around your attentive, eager nipples.

“I always forget you got these things,” Shouto says in wonder, his fingers touching the metal bars sitting so innocently, deviously on through your nipple. He tugs on the bar, and all the nerves in your breast fire and tingle, and your feet curl by his back as you whimper. “Fuck... I can’t believe I forgot…”

“S-Shouto, I fucking swear!” you almost screech, hands desperately pulling at strands of red and white, wanting his teeth and tongue and the suction of his mouth on your nipple. “Stop. Fucking. Talking!”

Shouto chuckles, his eyes of blue and grey flashing up at you dangerously, knowingly.

“Okay,” he says cheekily, and as if he read your thoughts, his teeth gently bit down on your all too ready nipple. Your head slams against the mattress, your chest feeling alive as if you had been electrocuted. He sucks your nipple, teeth tugging on the sensitive flesh, clacking against the metal in your flesh. His fingers taking care of your lonesome nipple, keeping it company with gentle, purposeful rolls as he has you sobbing his name.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, although you have no idea what you’re begging for. Your hips pathetically grinding into his clothed cock, trying to get yourself to cum while not having been touched. “Sho— Shouto!”

Shouto pulls away from your nipple with a loud pop. His breath panting, short, and overwhelmingly strained as if simply sucking your throbbing, needy nipple had given him the same amount of pleasure as it did you before consuming your forgotten one. Just as before, you melted against him, begging please, pretty please to him but never telling him what you were wanting. You didn’t know what you were wanting.

But unlike before, his hands leave their attentive position on your free nipple and slam your hips back down onto the mattress, keeping you down and still as he continued his ministrations until you were nipplegasming. You choked as the orgasm consumed you, your body going rigid and your eyes rolling to the depths of your head as his hot mouth was all you could think of. For a moment, the needy wet heat between your thighs was easily ignorable, something unneeded until Shouto was pulling away and kissing you again.

His chest was pressed tight against your own chest, your sensitive, overstimulated nipples rubbing against his chest with the welcomed friction as you let out a wordless, near-dizzy sigh into Shouto’s mouth. He kissed you with incredible passion, with dizzying heat, and consuming lust.

Your voice was so small, your voice easily drowned in Shouto’s mouth as your fingernails dug into his back and raked down pathetically, desperately proving that you were still here. Still fighting him on just who would win this night. Your fingers went down the curve of his spine, trailing down until you found the waistband of his sweats, and with his mouth everso distractingly on the swell of your breasts, biting, marking, and sucking hickies and his print on you for forever, he helped you slide the pants off.

In an almost dramatic fashion, his eyes burning deep into yours, leaving you stunned and a worshiper at his feet, he rose off your bed and let the pants fall. You shakily inhaled, your eyes suddenly transfixed and only seeing the hard, leaking dick that stood tall and proud against his twitching stomach. At the mere sight of him, you now truly, completely, and entirely understood just why the girls were obsessed.

From tip to the base, he was thick, the flush of his skin gorgeous, the curve of his cock optimal to fuck anyone. He was long, thick, and delicious—trimmed pubes of red and white and balls that had your mouth watering and going dry. You wondered, imagined, tried to visualize just how much it was going to hurt getting that in you. You’ve never had a man with a dick like that, never had to choke or fuck on something that looked like it would possibly render you stupid the moment you were impaled.

“Can I?” you ask, ‘can I touch you? Can I suck you?’ go unsaid.

“You owe me one,” Shouto says, his words teasing if it wasn’t for the way his voice betrayed him with the eagerness, the want and inexplicable tell that says if you don’t touch him, he will lose his fucking mind. “Please, do it.”

You’re dragging him back onto the bed, sitting him by your headboard, spreading his legs apart as you situate yourself between them. With a tentative, shaky hand, you reach out and grab on his dick.

His flesh is hot to the touch; it's hard and twitches just so at your grasp. Shouto lets out a gasp mixed with a whine, and you look at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, your nose touching the underside of his length and nuzzling into the flesh. You look back up at him with hooded eyes, eyes dark with mirth, lust, and an overwhelming need to please Shouto. He stares back, eyes entirely too bright, almost scared, almost as if he can’t believe this is happening.

You smile softly, eyes breaking contact to look at the swelling cock in your hand, and then back at him as your tongue pokes out of your mouth and puts a long, wet stripe against his length.

And Shouto?

Shouto moans like a man who’s had warm food after days of starving.

You lick from base to tip, saliva mixing with precum as your mouth presses teasing, open mouth kisses down the length of his cock, tongue pressing against the sweltering heat of his balls.

“Fuck, y/n, stop teasing,” Shouto grits, his hips pathetically snapping into nothing, his hands desperately trying to touch you, to which you swatted him away each and every time. You tut, shaking your head. With both your hands fisting his dick at the middle of his length, your squeeze and pull in opposite directions.

The reaction is one that you were hoping for, Shouto’s head slamming to the headboard with a clash, his legs jumping just a bit, and precum coming out in even heavy drops. You laugh breathlessly at his display, enamored with how fucking easy he is to get to make noises. He’d never made noises before, no other girl had him the way you did, and that made you crazy with power.

Before you wanted to, your mouth consumed to head of his cock, allowing the musky smell that was completely and only Shouto to fully consume you. You sucked on his thick swollen head, tongue pressing on the leaking slit on his head as he choked on your name. You smile, taking him in further, straining against the weight in your mouth, the pressure on the back of your throat, and the stretch of your throat. As soon as you had him a bit way in, you were pushing out, his hips driving to find you but missing you. Shouto’s noise was almost broken, near needy, and your head spun with his noises. Unable to stop, you pushed in again, allowing the drive of his hips to send his cock further down your throat.

Tears filled your eyes at the action, his cock much too large, much too thick to be fucked into your throat as such. Your fists acted as a barrier as you adjusted, your throat humming, mouth moaning as Shouto lost himself to the heat of your wet mouth. You bobbed your head, fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks. You sucked his dick with the intention of ruining him, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you needed to consume. You let go of one hand, allowing it to fondle with his balls as his cock went further into your mouth, the sounds of your choking, gagging, and crying egging him on.

“You take me so good,” Shouto sang to you, whispering words that only you’ve heard. “Fuck, angel, take me all the way. I know you can do it.”

With his hands at the back of your head, your fingers squeezing his balls, and the shaky removal of your final hand on his cock, he drives his hips all the way up. Shouto curses loudly, and you choke, feeling the rush of cum shooting down your throat, and you’re let free.

“Swallow it all, don’t spit it up,” Shouto breathes, his body shifting upward, eyes intent, focused. “Let me see.”

You cough violently, mouth closed as you swallow the salty cum, only letting your mouth open to allow the drool and spit to drip from your flat tongue as you show him that you swallowed every last seed. He groaned, grasping you by the chin and pulling you back in for a passionate, all-consuming kiss. The taste of Shouto and his cum sat heavily in your throat, and you were shaking as he began to unbutton your jeans, shedding them off of you as he flipped you back around so that your back was resting against the mattress.

Salt sweat dripped down your neck, and Shouto left fingertip bruises on your waist, your knees and legs awkwardly kicking as you finally got your jeans off your ankles. You shuttered, feeling Shouto’s hot, spit-slick dick pressing against your stomach, your cunt flipping and twisting at the thought of taking him all in.

“You’re still, fuck… you’re still hard?” you gasp, Shouto’s fingers tracing the innards of your thighs, scratching at your ass, slapping it once, twice, leaving you pitched and shaking.

“How can I not be when you’re down beneath me?” Shouto asks, his eyes looking at you as if he was burning the very naked image to you in his brain for him forever. “You’re mine, right?”

The question itself, while unexpected, was not unwanted.

You feel yourself nodding, your fingers scratching up his flexed arms, “Yours and only yours.”

“Good,” Shouto smirks, leaning in, his entire weight on the one hand beside your head, making you groan as his lips were so close yet so far away. “I’m yours as you are mine.”

With that, his fingers pressed to your thus far, unattended to clit, your legs shaking, kicking the air as you howled in pleasure. But it was such an intimate place, something you never expected Shouto to ever touch, and so, in a voice so pathetic you couldn’t even recognize it as yours, you screeched: “D-Don’t touch that!”

Shouto cocked an eyebrow, his head tilting as his fingers swirled around your swollen nub, sending just enough electrifying pleasure through every neuron in your body. “Why not?” he asked, voice authoritative and curious and sadistic. “It’s mine — you’re mine. I can play with what’s mine whenever I want.”

The words make your entire will collapse, the words liquid heat in your ears and mind. You moan loudly, feeling Shouto adjust your hips, lining your spasming cunt with his cock, and with his tongue delving into your mouth, his lips pressing against yours, he slowly pushed into you.

Shouto was loud the entire way into you, the deep grunts, breathless moans, and mindless babble of how this was unlike anything he’s had before, better than anything he’s ever imagined. He bottoms out quickly, hands leaving purple bruises against your skin as you lay on the bed silent.

Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single tone noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper over and over, your legs tight around Shouto’s hips, shaking with the feeling in you. “God, y-you’re so big, Sho… I’m—”

You can’t finish your sentence because he shifts just enough that his cock is meeting places in you that had never been encountered before. Your eyes roll back again, your fingers pressing ruby red scars to his back as you scratch and tear his back.

“You’re so fucking tight, shit,” Shouto pants, his mouth panting against the sweat on your collarbone, his own breathing heavy and spaced. “You’re perfect, y/n, so fucking perfect.”

You preen with those words, your mouth finding a home at his temple to which you kiss him, drag your lips down to his ear. You bite and nibble as you adjust to him buried deep within you. And he heaves a sigh and pushes up off you, eyes daring to stare into you as he huffs almost in disbelief of this entire night.

“I’m going to start moving,” he says, fingers scratching down your sides to your thighs. “Are you ready?”

Not trusting your voice, you nod. Shouto smiles, leaning back down for one last kiss to which you quickly returned, staying there as his hips moved backward before thrusting back into you. It's the first thrust of many, but your arms wrap even tighter underneath his own, your nails scarring his back as he goes again and again. You fucks into you deliberately, readily, with purpose and skill that speaks wonders and lives up to the many rumors you’ve ever heard.

His thrusts are powerful, slapping into your thighs with a mighty smack, making you whimper and wail into his salty neck as your hips lift up to meet his. It's a powerful dance, a dizzying cycle. His cock sliding up and down your puffy velvet walls, your weeping walls clenching him in a vice, unforgiving and unwilling to let go.

He speaks praises into your ear, your yours, your mouth.

“Such a pretty angel, moaning for me, crying for me, tell me you want my cock. Tell me you want me buried in your fucking stomach.”

You are converted to him in return, seeing him, speaking to him, devoted to him.

“Fuck, I want you more. Faster, harder! Don’t stop! I can feel you in my stomach, Sho! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck me fuck me!”

His weight is pressed on your thighs, spreading your thighs further apart, fucking into deeper, fucking you so powerfully, so desperately your soaked cunt squelches and drips your essence, soaking your bed and his legs. Your teeth sink into his skin, copper filling your mouth, and your vision feels missing as you are slamming your hips up, rolling them desperately to fuck back into him. You can feel his hand clutching yours, pressing it into the mattress as he somehow speeds up again, drilling you into the mattress, the bed creaking and bending under both your weight.

“More, more, more!”

And he gives, and gives, and gives.

You wail his name, the heat in your skin, tickling your clit and innards making you sweat, the alcohol on your skin sticking you to Shouto.

Shouto grunts your name, hisses your name, damns you heaven and back for having such a fucking grip on him. It's when he looks into your eyes, cock drilling into you at a speed and power that no human should ever obtain, one hand gripping yours and the other pinching and teasing your clit, you cum, bursting open at the seams.

Your orgasm is loud, clenching, all-consuming, and you drag Shouto down with you as he stammers, shudders, and cums deep within your womb. His seed spilling out of you as the both of you collapse onto the bed with breathless, thoughtless minds.

“Fuck,” he says.

“Right?” you chuckle.

And with your nose pressed to his sweaty, sex-lulled body, you fall asleep with his hands traveling up and down your spine. Hopefully, things would be well when you woke up.

P R E S E N T

To stop you from screeching so loudly you woke up the entire world, Shouto held his hand to your mouth, his eyes wide, terrified, and completely confused.

“Please stop yelling… my head hurts…” Shouto begs, his face completely exhausted but with that post-orgasm sleep glow.

“We had sex?!” you shriek, throwing his hand off your mouth. “We were mad at each other, and we had sex?!”

“Oh,” Shouto seems to remember, his head rolling before he sat up, bringing you up with him. “Right, we should talk about that, huh?”

“You think?!” you shriek, entirely overwhelmed with the fact that you had done so much embarrassing shit last night.

It’s quiet for a bit. The birds chirping outside an almost cheerful taunt as the both of you, for the first time in seventeen years, find it too awkward to talk. No one wants to speak first, to mention the elephant in the room, for once it happened, there really was no going back. Not that there was much to go back from.

“I’m in love with you,” Shouto finally says. It’s an admittance, a whisper that's strong despite it told in such a hushed voice as if you would laugh at him as he confessed. “I’ve actually been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Now that shocks you.

Your eyes are wide, and you’re staring at Shouto, unsure what to say, what to ask, but you know you need more answers.

“I know, hard to believe, huh?” Shouto chuckles, his hand running through his sex and sleep disheveled hair. “It’s true, though… I don’t remember not ever being in love with you.”

“No… no way,” you say, your body running cold, and you shiver. You remember then that you’re sitting up, and you’re very incredibly naked. Shouto notices and moves to grab a blanket at the foot of the bed and wraps it around you. “That doesn’t make sense,” you argue, your furrowed brows making your skin crease as you try to think back on all your years and memories, looking for signs in which Todoroki Shouto loved you. “You never showed it.”

“Camie said the same thing,” Shouto sighed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Before I was sixteen… I don’t know; I guess I could understand why. I only ever talked to you, always paired up with you. I let you hold my hand, and I let you hug me… I thought me telling you that I had never been kissed before would make you want to kiss me, but it never did. I know I was awkward and a little different when we were younger, so when I was paired up with Camie… I thought she would help me.”

“By fucking you?” you asked, your frown deepening as you remembered your bitter feelings over Camie stealing Shouto’s virginity.

“She… she said that by being sexual, maybe you would see me as a man, and not the four-year-old crying boy in preschool,” Shouto smiled sadly, his fingers picking at one another. “Me having sex was supposed to show you that I was a man who wanted to see you as a woman in return, but it didn’t work.”

“Well, no shit,” you snort, relaxing a bit although you felt limp. You found yourself leaning against Shouto’s strong shoulders, your head landing heavily on him. “You went from a virgin to fucking anything with a wet hole.”

“...yeah, I’m sorry about that,” Shouto said with regret, his shoulders sagging just a bit. “At first, I thought I needed to fuck more girls to prove I was a man to you because you acted like nothing had happened after Camie… but sex was fun, it felt good.”

“Sex is good,” you agree with a soft chuckle to which he returned.

He shifted a bit, arms tightening and relaxing before he finally admitted, “It helped distract me from you because you looked at others the way I wanted you to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back.

“No, don’t be,” Shouto speaks firmly, his arm wrapping around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple. “It was my fault. I was never assertive enough, confident enough to simply confess.”

“So, does you being in love with me having anything to do with you driving the entire male population away from me?”

Your eyes look up at him, finding his embarrassed gaze before he glances away.

“That actually wasn’t intentional… I guess I just talk about you a lot.”

“Yeah, but still doesn’t mean you couldn’t ever deny it yourself!”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Apologize then.”

“Y/l/n Y/n, I am sorry for making the entire male population we’ve ever come across think we were an item and not telling them otherwise. I am sorry for keeping you from enjoying sex while I continued to. I am lousy, and my love for you should be unreturned because that was ass of me.”

You sigh, your lips pursed to keep from smiling as you looked back at his handsome face.

“Now, ask me the damn question, crybaby.”

“Crybaby?”

“You finally admitted that you were, in fact, crying!!!!!”

If you asked Shishikura Seiji what the worst thing about being the third roommate to Todoroki Shouto and you was, he would give a million and three answers as to why it was the worst.

One: he absolutely hated how loud the both of you were. Todoroki Shouto was someone he thought was quiet and introverted, but whenever he was around you, he was loud. You were just plain old loud, and he thought it was annoying.

Two: he absolutely hated your rice. Call it petty, but after you fed him on his first night and tried putting him into a chokehold for saying the song your rice cooker sang at its end was the stupidest fucking thing ever made, everything you made taste like ash and dirt.

Twenty: he hated that there were biweekly karaoke nights. He would be studying away in his room and wanted to die when he heard the all too familiar sound of Mamma Mia’s Here We Go Again blasting in the living room.

Hundred fifty-seven: SO. MUCH. FUCKING. SEX.

Three hundred thirteen: SO. MUCH. DRINKING.

Five thousand: SO. MUCH. WEED.

Ten thousand three: you put his toilet seat up whenever you’re drunk, so he falls in when he goes to pee in the morning.

Five hundred: the way the both of you looked at each other, fucking disgusting.

To say the least, there were a lot of many different reasons scaling from actual issues to petty small shit, but Shishikura was not in any position to find a new apartment, so he stayed. To be quite honest, having been living with Dumb and Dumber (you and Shouto, respectively), he only thought there would be one thing that would make him lose his actual mind.

The day that would inevitably come and the both of you realized your feelings were, in fact, returned. He didn’t want to even imagine how the animalistic sex he often had to hear coming from your hallway would increase, or the sappy stupid romantic love he would see in the living room because as best friends, you both had no care for PDA and if you were allowed to kiss? Allowed to have sex? He feared he would have to wear a hazmat suit in every corner of the apartment. You both were already incredibly loud as a duo (see reason one as to why he hates living here); he feared the worst when the mutual love was realized.

But he exited his room a week after that Sunday morning with a fully loaded water gun just in case. His eyes narrowed, the hair on his neck raised as his beady eyes focused in on the living room.

Shouto sat on the couch, his back on the armrest, and you sitting between his thighs as you watched him play some game on his Switch, your smile large and annoyingly bright, but he realized that he couldn’t hear you screaming or speaking so loudly he could listen to the conversation.

No, as a matter of fact, Shishikura couldn’t hear a single word; the words being exchanged between you and Shouto spoke so softly, so intimately, it shocked him. Shishikura noticed with an almost awed surprise that even though your smile was as annoyingly bright as before. It wasn’t directed at anything but Shouto, and Shouto’s smile, while nowhere near as big, just as warm and full to you.

It was intimate, romantic even.

Nothing had changed in your relationship except now, finally, now, you were allowed to kiss and fuck each other like heat-driven animals.

Shishikura was shocked to his core, unable to comprehend the sight in front of him.

You nor Shouto paid him any mind, too lost in the game and in each other to look his way as he made his way into the kitchen for his lunch. Shishikura set the water gun on the counter, a small smile spreading on his face despite himself, and chuckled.

Maybe the two of you together weren’t something to hate on after all.

“Hey, is that a water gun?!”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

[blueparadis]

Inui Seishu || A to Z Profile

rating : mature

tags: m.list; taglist

type : drabble (special event post)

notes : posting again because my Tumblr betrayed me :)

♡ or ⟳appreciated !

A - Aftercare

Inui is not expressive when it comes to emotions. So, he can't paint roses and sunshines just after the sex. However, if you just rub his face, run your fingers upon his scars he'll take it so well that he might trick you for another session.

B - Bondage

Inui loves it when he could see his influence on you; when you rub your wrists, arms easing his grips. He doesn't like it when you fight against his ways, he might tie you up if you're being too restless.

C - Cover the cry

He's weak to sounds. So, if you're in public he'll make sure to cover your mouth before the final push; but if it's the otherwise, he will get rid of your embarrassment to hear your moans.

D - Dominance

He's a soft dom , might be a super sub if you make him jealous or don't provide enough attention to him, his feelings towards you.

E - Erogenous Zones

Ears, nibble his ears while hugging him from behind. Oh yeah, he's weak on his navel too.

F - Favorite place

He likes to touch your lips. He'll take his time touching and caressing your lips before kissing you.

G - Get caught

He's secretly happy that he got caught? you could practically see him concocting the mischievous ploy he's gonna make you play.

H - Humiliation

Nope! He's never doing that; he practically worships your body even if he's the top most of the time but he'll never talk down to you.

I - Idle zone

He'll call you intentionally when you're busy and will tease you into his act. He loves to do that, he enjoys that he's your favorite distraction.

J - Join the Show

He's not a big fan of audience exposure. However, if you strip and put up a show for him, he'll be an absolute tease to your plea. He won't give in until you beg him too.

K - Kissing

He loves to run his lips on your neck; not sucking just some gentle kisses when you're on his lap. Kiss on his hands, arms he'll watch you as if he has never known affection.

L- Location & Lighting

Inui wants you to look at you when he fucks you. So, lights are ON. That's why, morning sex are regular.

M-Masochism

Inui would love if you treat his wounds. He'll harm himself infront of you to get your aid. Why? Inui wants your attention real bad.

N- Nudity

He needs you to be absolutely naked when he's about to be in you. Any kind of clothing on you makes him angry and pouty.

O- Orgasm Control

Nope. He doesn't like it. He can't deny the fact that he loves your begging voice but he would rather make you hit libido multiple times not deny it.

P - Public place

He controls himself. It's not a good idea to provoke him in public places. Don't be so needy for him. It's an invitation to his bold dominance.

Q- Quite Quickie

Ofcourse. He would gladly get a quickie in emergency situation.

R- Routine

Nope. He has none. If you tell him to have one, he'll sweet talk you so swiftly that you can't deny his needy face, movements anymore.

S- Stamina

He needs multiple rounds. He won't push your limits though but sometimes he might get carried away.

T- Time to Tease

Oh yeah! Absolutely, he loves teasing you out of nowhere. He'll bluntly put his hands into your underwear as a casual "hi"

U- Underwear

He prefers black. He'll not do it until he has that black underwear on him. He's whiney.

V- Voyeurism

Nope. He's not interested in that. If you want, he could but be capable enough to handle his emotional mess after that.

W- WAM

He's so into it. Moreover, he is great at it. He'll lick the area by maintaining eye contact; if that's not possible he'll hum in satisfaction while cleaning the mess.

X- X - dressing

He is into it. He loves to take pictures with you while x-dressing. He'll gladly indulge you in sexual activities while being clothed.

Y- Yes/No

It actually depends on his mood and place. He'll be absolutely thorough if he wants something specific.

Z- Zone out

He doesn't want to fuck you when you're not aware of your surroundings. He wants you to be totally aware when he is inside you.

★ tagging : @zoraedits @solaceinarts @kshira @miyakiniku

#bpspecials #inui x you #inui x y/n #inui x reader #inui seishu #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev x yn #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyorev scenarios #tokyorev hcs #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers inui #seishu inui x reader #inui smut #inui headcanons #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyorev headcanons #tokyorev #smut #tokyo revengers angst #tokyorev angst #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev fanfic #tokyorev fic

[matthewlucies]

I kinda wrote a blackstairs oneshot, feel free to enjoy and sorry if there's any mistakes (english is not my first language). This hc happens a few years after the events in SOBH.

headcanon for blackstairs: where Julian jokes with Emma but she moves forward with it

Felt good to be back in LA. After all those cloudy days in Chiswick, Emma really missed summer days. Not that there wasn't summer in London, but it wasn't the same as LA: the sun actually seemed to shine brighter in her hometown. People usually say there's no place like home, and in the end of the day, that's a naked true.

Emma was laying on Julian's lap while they were watching the sun going down at the beach. The sky went from heavenly blue to hot pink in a matter of minutes and Emma wondered if Julian was thinking about painting that moment. Jules once said the best part of sunset was when the sun is half covered by the sea and the sky is painted by three colors, just like the view they were watching.

The view Julian was watching, when she only could look at him. Her best friend. Her parabatai. Her best love. The only person in the world she loved more than everything else. The boy who sacrificed his own life for his family without asking anything back. And that boy loved her. He chose her to be his, and she would've always chose him to be hers. Emma couldn't help feeling so lucky to have Jules by her side.

— What are you thinking? — He asked when he caught Emma looking at him.

— I'm thinking you'll paint us watching the sunset when we get to the Institute. And I will be staring at you while you do your thing and think how hot and talented my boyfriend is.

Julian grinned. Y-O-U-K-N-O-W-M-E-S-O-W-E-L-L, he wrote on her shoulder.

— But you could be right if we didn't send all my painting stuff to Blackthorn Hall.

Emma snorted. Magnus opened a portal a few years ago when they started to furnish Blackthorn Hall their own way, a gift for the new home, he said. Julian used a remaining room on the second floor of the house to make his own art studio. Bigger and fancier than the one at the Institute, nevertheless, Jules wanted all his old stuff home. Including all the paintings, those canvas with Emma painted all over it. His heart.

— I always forget we don't live here anymore when we come to visit.

— I thought you liked Blackthorn Hall.

— And I do. I loved every single moment we spent reforming the house and solving mysteries. But LA is where we grew up, so much of our story is written in this place... — Emma seemed nostalgic.

The both of them kept in silence. Emma was looking to the night sky, but Julian was looking at her. He was always looking at her. That's when, suddenly, he watched the look on Emma's eyes change from melancholic to thoughtful. And then, her eyes were shining more than starlight.

— What are you thinking, Em? — Julian asked again. Knowing Emma more than anyone else, he already knew she had an idea.

— A vacation house.

— What? — Julian knitted a eyebrow.

— Yes! We could call it the "Blackstairs Hall" or don't call it anything at all. It would be a place where we go anytime we miss being home, our kids would have the LA experience in a house we can design the way we want, just like we did with Blackthorn Hall... — She was so excited speaking about it, she didn't notice the look on Julian's face until he called her name.

— Emma! — He seemed surprised and a little bit overwhelmed. She stoped talking.

— You didn't like the idea. — She declared. — Forget it.

— Two houses? Kids? That's a really big deal. I didn't knew you were ready to the next step. — He giggled.

— What next step? What are you talking about?

— Wait, I thought you were proposing to me. — He couldn't hold back a laugh.

— I'm not proposing to you, Julian Blackthorn! — She stood up from his lap, startled. — We can have two houses without being married!

— I know that, Em. I was just messing with you.

— That wasn't funny at all, Jules.

— I thought it was. — He was still laughing. — Is the idea of proposing to me that bad?

Emma stopped. She looked Julian in the eyes, the greenish blue shone trough the night and not even the stars could compare. He was still grinning at her, but she knew something in the air had changed while the question kept hammering in her mind. Was the idea of proposing to Jules that bad?

She already had the answer to that.

Emma walked to the seashore and searched for the tiny seashells on the sand. She grabbed one and came back to where Julian was already standing and going after her.

— I changed my mind. — She said. — I'm proposing you right now, and you better listen to me!

— Okay. Please go ahead. — That playful smile was still on Julian's lips, but Emma was not joking anymore.

— We've been trough a lot since we were 12. We became parabatai because the idea of losing each other were worst than death, and we've already dealt with a lot of death. Losing you was never a option, Jules, and I wouldn't have done anything different. I'd still choose to be your parabatai despite of everything we been trough. Because of everything we been trough. And I also would've fell in love with you. There's no world where Emma Carstairs doesn't love Julian Blackthorn with everything she is, we've seen that back in Thule.

— Emma, I... — Emma swore she saw a lonely tear on Julian's face.

— Just listen, Jules — She smiled and put the shell on Julian's hand. — The shells are shellfish's home. You are my home, let that shell symbolize that. I don't have a ring or any other valuable thing because you gave me the idea of proposing just a minute ago, so the shell better be enough. — Jules was definitely crying. But he smiled trough the tears. — What I'm saying is you stood by my side when nobody else did. I had no one left and you gave me a family and didn't let things fall apart. I love you for all of that and more, because I keep falling in love with you ever since we were little kids.

Jules tried to speak once more, but Emma put a finger over his lips to stop him. L-E-T-M-E-F-I-N-I-S-H, she wrote with that same finger over his heart. He nodded.

— The stars are our only witnesses tonight, but I wouldn't mind if the entire universe knew how much I love you. So, make me the happiest woman in the universe today, and for the rest of our lives. Be my Julian Carstairs. — She looked him in the eyes. Brown lost in the greenish blue. — Julian Atticus Blackthorn, will you marry me?

— Julian Carstairs? — He grinned.

— Seriously? Was that the only part you paid attention to?

The wind started blowing a little harder, messing with Emma's hair. Julian moved a lock of hair away from her face, and hold her head with his hands.

— Julian Carstairs sounds perfect to me. — He smiled.

— Is that a yes?

He didn't speak anything. The last thing Emma knew was the pressure of Julian's lips over hers. She could feel the love and the desire running through her veins. Julian didn't speak anything because he didn't need to. All Emma's senses were filled with him. The way he touched her body and his mouth moved through hers were all the answer she needed.

His mouth tasted like the sodas they had before and the tears he just cried. They kept kissing passionately, she trying to reach every piece of him with her hands, while he moaned her name and nonsense love words. Emma thought that she never felt that amount of love and happiness, and suddenly she felt like crying.

When Jules leaned his forehead against hers, her face was all tears. The feeling was like that one a few years ago, when they found out their parabatai bond was broken. Finally, they thought back then, like the start of a dream. Now, they realized that dream actually came true.

— I love you more than starlight, Emma Cordelia Carstairs. I'll be more than happy to be your husband.

And just like that, Emma knew there's no other place she'd ratter be other than Julian's side for the rest of her life.

#emma is proposing to julian and you cant tell me otherwise #blackstairs oneshot #blackstairs wedding #blackstairs proposal #emma and julian #blackstairs #jemma #cassandra clare #the shadowhunters chronicles #shadowhunters #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #jemma blackstairs #sobh #the secrets of blackthorn hall #tda headcanon #tda #the dark artifices #blackstairs fanfiction #jemma fanfiction

[leah-bobeea]

Magazine Girl; Steve Rogers

You ever start writing a fic about a journalist reader at two am who’s eventually gonna end up doing steeb, over his desk, biting down on his expensive leather belt?

❀ ❀ ❀

Warnings: CEO!Steve x Journalist!Reader, Angst, Steve’s a little mean, Bossy Steve, Shy/Anxious reader, Dom!steve, mentions spanking, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, coercion (a little teensy bit), Bad writing lol

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: Terrible writing w/ a terribly rushed ending. Written on my phone, in my notes app, not beta read, and barely proofread.

❀ ❀ ❀

Yes, your hands were busy. Not busy typing out a rough draft of this stupid article on Steve Rogers, not busy calling his secretary to set up a meeting with the man, or the closest to him you could get, not busy doing their job at all. They were busy tapping your pen against the glass tabletop of your desk, successfully annoying Wanda, who sent you an aggravated look from across the room.

“Seriously, Y/n?” Wanda moved from where she was at her desk, clearly not making a breakthrough on her article for this month's issue either. You could only shake your head in reply. Throwing your head back to stare at the ceiling, you starting explaining. “Maria gave me this huge article, Wanda. Cover! And, trust me, I know she’s testing me and doesn’t think I’ll actually be able to do it so she can fire me, or belittle me, or- or something! I don’t know what to do, help me, bestie.” As you finished rambling you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes, hoping for some of that amazing advice she gives.

Wanda laughed and pulled a chair over from an empty desk, sitting down and haphazardly throwing her feet on top of your cluttered tabletop. “She wouldn’t give you an article you couldn’t handle, she loves you, Y/n. If it’s truly as difficult as you’re making it out as that means that she knows you’re ready for it, and you’ll do amazing. Who’s it on anyway?”

She was doing such a good job at easing your nerves until she brought up the topic. You whined high in your throat and threw your head to the side before uttering, “Steven Rogers,” you turned your body back to Wanda, “What more do I need to say?” Her eyes widened just a little. “Sheesh...I’d start making phone calls, and praying, maybe?”

❀ ❀ ❀

“Hello, Miss. Carter, um- this is Y/n L/n with Shield Mag-“ “Please hold, dear.”

You pulled the phone away from your head and let it rest on your naked thigh, quickly pressing the speaker button. It was times like this when you were grateful that you let your grandma convince you to buy a house phone. Peggy Carter was the fifth person you’d contacted trying to get an interview with this man and she was the second lady that humored you enough to at least pretend like she’d get back to you.

She’s his main assistant so you might have better luck this time...

Thirty minutes later you had your head inches off the ground and your toes wiggling in the air. Humming the annoying hold music to yourself, you braided, unbraided, and re-braided a single strand of your hair. At thirty-nine minutes you were ready to give up until you heard a click on the other line.

You scrambled to turn off the speaker and press the phone back to your ear.

“Miss. Carter I was hoping to set up an interview with Mr. Rogers, over the phone, in person, or through email, if that’s possible?” You asked, hopeful that she wouldn’t shoot you down immediately like everyone else.

“Well, Magazine Girl, I only do in person. But I am a very busy man, so I need to know right away, what’s in it for me?” Your breath hitched and you almost fell and cracked your head open from how startled hearing his voice made you. Then, you nearly gave yourself a head rush from how fast you sat up.

“Well, um, Sir, you would get a headlining article, and uh, a cover on the June issue of Shield Magazine. That’s um, that’s if you want a cover- you don’t have to be on the cover if you don’t want to, just the interview would be mentioned on the cover, but-“ His chuckle was gritty and vivid, effective in stopping your babble. “I’ll see you Friday around noon. Goodbye Magazine Girl.” He hung up on you before you could even comprehend anything but that captivating laugh.

You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed your planner and pen. “Friday at noon...”

❀ ❀ ❀

The next day you were back in the office, sitting in Wanda’s stiff chair with twin caramel lattes sitting in front of you. That was the thing about you, you’d come to work early bearing gifts just to tell your closest friend your good news. You’re sweet like that.

When Wanda arrived it was fifteen minutes later and your latte was halfway gone. Hearing her black stilettos click on the glossy linoleum made you perk up immediately. As she approached, you stood, handing her the latte and wrapping your arms around her lithe body.

“I got an interview!” You squealed, rocking your bodies side to side. She stilled you and smiled. “Gosh, that’s great, Y/n. How’d you get it?”

“Well, I called, like everyone, and he picked up, Wanda! he picked up! I’m scheduled for Friday, and my Lord, Wanda, his laugh, it's like honey...” You trailed off, sighing at the thought of him. Your head was rested on her shoulder, a faint smile on your face. “You’ve got a crush on him!” Wanda exclaimed, grabbing your shoulders and holding you an arm's length away to get a good look at your bashful face.

You gasped, “No I do not! That would be totally unprofessional!” The cackle that erupted from her made her sound like the wicked witch of the west. And honestly, under her stare, you felt like Dorothy stuck under that house.

When Wanda was finally done laughing maliciously she let you go, plopping down in her desk chair and sipping her latte. She pointed over and your desk and gave you a look. “Better start drafting those questions... we wouldn’t want you to blank on your crush.” “Wanda!”

❀ ❀ ❀

The days leading up to Friday were excruciatingly long, yet the hours until twelve flew past all too quickly.

It seemed as if your wardrobe was never ending, full of clothes that you deemed inappropriate for a meeting with the CEO of American Enterprises. You threw yourself back onto the bed, hair and makeup done but body still wrapped in a fluffy white towel. “Oh Milky, what am I gonna wear?” The soft white kitty glared at you from the pillow she was perched on, meowing at you aggressively.

Ten thirty blinked on the clock and you sat up, glancing at all of the clothes that were scattered on the floor. “I guess this will do.” You picked up the same emerald blazer you had chosen originally and layered it over some basic Levi’s, and gray low cut blouse flowing over your form. A belt was necessary, so you grazed over your options. Brown wouldn’t go, even though it was your only fancy belt. The only black one you had was old, the leather cracked and worn, but it had to do. You slipped on some pretty black heels, lucky that you painted your toes a similar color to your blouse. After accessorizing you sprayed your signature perfume, the one that got you your first college-aged boyfriend, and the same one that you were wearing when you got your first real job.

By the time you were on the Metro, it was eleven o’ six, and you were worried. If you were late you’d lose this chance, and probably your job. The car stopped around eleven fifteen, giving you fifteen minutes to make your way to the building, check-in, and try to not seem so nervous.

Finding the building wasn’t difficult at all, after all, it is the second biggest building in New York City, competing with Stark Tower. The “A” at the top wasn’t illuminated, but it still stood out against the other buildings, cowering over them.

You found that the doors were heavy and if you denied Wanda of going to those burn boot camps you would have extreme difficulty prying them open. The inside was classy, just as you expected. The lamps had blue shades and the front desk lit up with a design that resembled the American Flag, but with less curved stripes and only one large star.

The receptionist was one of the women who shot you down immediately when you called and was a little surprised when you checked in. “Hello, I’m here for Mr. Rogers, twelve o’clock?” She searched for something on her computer, clearly trying to see if the appointment was legitimate. When you were proven correct, she handed you a temporary security badge and a sharpie to write your name on it. “Have a seat over there when you’re finished. I’ll call for you when Mr. Rogers is ready for you.” She smiled, it was fake, but it helped you feel more comfortable.

The red couch was stiff and small, clearly not meant for long periods of sitting. The badge was clipped onto your blouse, not your blazer, and the weight of it was pulling at the already low cut neckline. You thought about moving it, but your attention was quickly turned to the coffee table, where your magazine sat, opened to an article you wrote. Your hands were a little shaky as you went to close the magazine, but you were interrupted before you could grasp the bent pages.

“Miss. Y/n? Mr. Rogers is ready for your interview. Head up to floor thirty six, the door on the right.” Miss receptionist sounded bored, her eyes never left the monitor in front of her. “Thanks.”

Some of the others in the waiting area looked up to you after hearing where you were going, causing you to blush.

You felt lucky to get the elevator to yourself. Thirty-six floors is a long way to go, yet you got there in under three. In the elevator you adjusted your outfit and flattened your hair, hoping it wasn’t frizzy.

The door on the right was clearly not just a meeting room but an office, which you thought was odd. You also found it odd that no one was in the room, you expected to at least be met with his assistant or secretary, if not Steve himself.

Your eyes scanned the room to make sure it was completely empty before taking a seat on the leather chair on the opposite side of the big desk. You opened your notebook and got out your lucky rooster pen before going over your questions once again, hoping he didn’t think they were stupid.

You waited fifteen minutes for him, growing increasingly irked as the minutes built up. When he walked through the door you felt like your heart stopped.

Six-four build covered in a black suit and tie, white undershirt pristine. Blonde hair disheveled and a perfectly manicured beard. The door slammed shut and you heard the clinking sound of a glass being set down. Steve lifted his head and you snapped yours to the front, hoping he didn’t catch you checking him out.

The room was silent besides a rustling coming from behind you. You busied yourself with your notebook, highlighting the questions you wanted to ask most.

“You’re a very patient girl.” He observed. Steve made you wait on purpose. He knew from the first person you called that you wanted an interview, he was friends with Maria Hill after all. But he wanted some entertainment, and after looking into you, he knew you were the right girl. So far he’s made you wait an hour and fourteen minutes for just a smidge of his attention.

“Yes, Sir.” You mumbled, accidentally stopping the highlighter too soon, pressing it down, and letting the pink ink bleed to the next page. He hummed in approval as he rounded the corner, drink in his hand, coat jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, first couple buttons loose. Finally, Steve sat in the big chair, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the mahogany table.

“Give me that.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his statement, “What?” You asked, putting your pen down on your lap. Steve motioned for your notebook, and you opened your mouth, starting to stumble over your words. “Oh? um- Okay?” You handed it over to him and he relaxed back into his chair. A question bubbled in your throat, but you didn’t let it escape. Instead, you watched as his eyes scanned the papers, blue cursive, and pink highlighter, little stars and flowers drawn in the corners. “Mr. Rogers, are you ready to start the interview?” You tapped your watch, twelve twenty four.

He nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.” You cleared your throat and went to ask for your notebook, but he beat you to it. “Miss. L/n, is there an achievement or something that you’ve contributed to me that you are most proud of?” Why was he asking you your own questions? “Sir, I-“ He cut you off once again. “Answer the question, doll.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “I- um, no. I haven’t contributed anything to you that I should be proud of, Sir.”

“Is there a particular moment or memory of building this relationship that stands out to you?” He continued with the questions, tilting his head to the side. Why was he twisting the questions onto you? When you didn’t come up with an answer he chuckled, sounding sickly sweet like molasses dripping straight from the sugarcane. “Patience finally wearing thin, honey?” You nodded eyes staring at his chest, you couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look him in the eye.

He snapped your notebook closed and slid it towards your side of the grand desk. “You couldn’t answer my questions correctly, Y/n.” You nodded, eyes now downcast, admiring the pattern on the blue carpet. You felt like you were going to cry. This big scary man was mean and just wouldn’t let you conduct your interview and you didn’t know why. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I know you are, doll. But, if you can’t answer my questions how can I answer yours? You have nothing to offer me.” This was it, you were losing your chance. “Business wise, that is.” Your head shook, and your hands were clasped together, your left thumb rubbing your right nail back and forth. “I don’t understand, Sir.”

“I’m friends with Maria, Y/n. If you’re able to get this article done and get me on the cover you’re gonna get a promotion, you want that, right doll?” Your eyes went wide, “Yes, Sir.” Now, he stood, coming around to the front where you are and leaning against the desk. “She said to make it difficult, but I don’t care enough to do all that. So, doll, I’ll answer your questions. They’re quite good actually. And I’ll do a little photoshoot for the cover, but you’ll need to pay me back.” You gulped, hands suddenly sweaty, you felt like a little chihuahua, trembling under his gaze.

“How? Um, how do I pay you?” Gosh, even your voice was shaky. “Stand up. Lose the blazer.” Steve commanded, slowly unbuckling his belt. You could faintly tell from the buckle that it was Hermès. You stood and took off your blazer in a rush, folding it poorly and setting it on the arm of the chair. “Atta girl.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders and then ran them down to your hands, giving them a little squeeze before he hooked his index fingers into your belt loops, pulling you closer. So close that the tips of your shoes were touching. He leaned down to kiss your neck and you stiffened, but when he grazed his teeth over the bruised spot he just created you melted into him, your hands grasping at the pristine white button up, letting out a little whimper.

Steve pushed you back a little and took in your form, then he pulled the little security badge off, tossing it to the side. Like a little kid, he pulled at the neckline of your shirt. “Off.” You would’ve giggled at him if he didn’t look so scary right now. His blue eyes were piercing into yours, left hand so tight on your hip you thought he might leave bruises.

By the time your shirt hit the floor, he was pushing at your shoulders, hinting at you to go to your knees. “Sir, I don’t know-“

You started, knees hitting the carpet underneath you. He shushed you and guided your head to look up at him. “It's okay, baby, you don’t have to know how. I’ll do all the work, doll. Now, undo your bra.” As expected you did as he asked immediately, fumbling with the clasp until it fell down your arms. It ended up next to your thigh as you watched him pull his belt through the loops.

Steve walked around you and kneeled down, belt in his hands. “Put your hands behind your back.” You nodded immediately, so submissive, completely at his mercy. “Yes, Sir.” Steve loved how polite you were. He made quick work of restraining you, tying your hands to rest against your jean clad ass. The metal felt harsh against your skin and the soft, expensive leather snaked up your arms.

When he was back in front of you he sighed and shook his head. “I should’ve had you unzip me first.” Hearing Steve say that finally brought you to the reality of what was about to happen. You watched with big eyes as he undid the button and then the zipper, the sound making you tremble. His dress pants puddled on the floor and you were in awe as he massaged his bulge through his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down to the middle of his thighs. His cock bounced up to hit his abdomen and he hissed as he stroked it a few times. “Open as wide as you can, honey.”

As always, you did as asked. Your tongue stuck out a little, wetting your bottom lip. He grasped the back of your head and leaned you forward a little, then you felt his blunt tip on your tongue. You gagged and spluttered when Steve was about halfway seated, he pulled out and leaned down, kissing you sloppily. “Breathe through your nose, baby. Don’t forget.” Then he was back at slowly entering your throat. “Fuck...” he grunted, finally fully seated in your throat, your nose pressed against his nicely groomed pubic hair. He caressed your throat then, rubbing the bulge in your throat, resisting the urge to press down and have you choke on his cock even more. “So good, Y/n.”

Steve started rocking into your throat, slowly fucking it as spit leaked from the corners of your mouth. After minutes of abusing your throat, he finally pulled out, adoring the way tears ran down your cheeks and how you hiccupped, wanting to desperately rub at your raw throat to soothe it. Your hands pulled at the belt and your eyes begged Steve to undo it. “Up, doll.”

He hoisted you up from your armpits and bent you over the desk. Steve pressed kisses down your back and reached in front of you, unbuckling your belt and throwing it somewhere to the left of you, then he unbuttoned and unzipped your pants, tugging them down with fervor.

Steve undid your restraints and left more kisses down your back until he reached your ass, spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole and glistening cunt. “I’d love to see this ass all bruised and red, but I’ll have to save that for another day.” His index and middle finger ran circles on your clit, your back arching to press into him more. “Sir, please!” You gasped, your hand flying out to the edge of the table and nearly knocking over the glass of whiskey he left on a coaster when Steve finally pushed two fingers into your aching hole.

“Gotta open you up first, doll, get you all sloppy and ready for my cock.” You cried out as he hooked his fingers, rubbing the magic spot inside of you. “Please, Steve, please.” He cooed at you, pulling his fingers out, and instead traced his name over your clit. “You gonna come, baby? Huh? You gonna drench my fingers, little girl?” You were moaning in wanton, hips humping his hand desperately. He brought his other hand down and started fingerfucking you again, giving you just enough to push you over the edge.

Your moans were breathy, your legs twitching, and you were panting by the time your orgasm faded. “I hope you know I’m not done with you yet, doll, I still haven’t come inside you.” That made you whine high in your throat and you tried, to no avail, to slam your legs shut around his hand.

Steve’s right hand fisted his cock a few times, making sure he’s rock hard and dripping with pre-cum, while his left kept your lips spread, showing him your gorgeous pussy. The blunt head at your entrance shocked you, and you yelped at the intrusion. “Sir!”

He leaned his head down and spit where you were joined, trying to make the glide even easier. “Shut up, doll.” He snapped after you cried out. Once he was as deep as possible inside of you he reached for his belt, looping it over as if he was going to spank you, and stuffed it into your mouth. “Bite down,” Steve demanded, a hand snaked around to the front of your neck where he was applying light pressure.

When you tried to push back against him he held your hips down against the wood steadily and started snapping his hips at a fast speed. Each thrust pushed you down onto the table, letting your clit rub against the mahogany wood.

Your vision felt spacey like you could black out any moment as he choked you. Your orgasm washed over you and you had to use all the strength you had in you to keep biting down on the belt. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you disobeyed his and let it go. Steve’s hips harshly snapped against your ass a few more times before he stilled inside of you, filling you with his spunk.

Before Steve cleaned you up and let you leave his office he had to finger his cum back inside of you, making sure none of it went to waste. Then, he made sure you had a way home, and a way to contact him, because, “Now you’re no longer Magazine Girl, but My Girl.”

@lo-bells

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve smut #steve rogers smut #dark!steve #dark!steve x reader #marvel #avengers fanfic #captain america #ceo!au #chris evans #leah-bobeea