juststrawberrytea

[juststrawberrytea]

[juststrawberrytea]

KINKTOBER DAY ONE┊PUBLIC SEX. who cares if your fingertips are all pruny? make your barbies have a pool party in the bathtub! no one will notice if two of them go off somewhere private…

content: barbie!reader x ken!gojo, public sex, breast play, spit, exhibitionism, a little silly, vaginal fingering, face fucking (messy), reader is called barbie (of course) and princess. word count: 2K

THIS BARBIE LOVES IT WHEN YOU TOUCH HER IN FRONT OF ALL YOUR FRIENDS!

and you aren’t shy about it either! ever since you were purchased for little susie’s birthday bash, you’ve lived the good life. you regularly got a new set of clothes and accessories, had a designated spot on the prettiest shelf, and usually could rely on at least one new ken to show up every few months.

the issue is, things have gotten a little boring lately. you’re not sure when it happened but you started seeing the same dolls one two many times. you’ve gone to enough dream house parties to easily spot who’s willing to bump some plastic. with no new babes coming in, you don’t get the same thrill you used to.

just last week you’d pressed yourself into the wall outside your favorite smoothie place, in broad lamplight mind you, and had to work extra hard to cum. the week before that, you were caught during movie night fucking yourself a little too noticeably under the covers, and even that was lackluster.

you were grasping at straws and no amount of sexy escapades could satiate you. how hard could it be to get an a+ in school and score a new ken doll? you were barbie. you deserved the best and nothing less.

so it’s a shame really, that you’ve wasted your favorite hot pink swimsuit (limited edition with the soft pink trim) on a dud. the ken who invited you here barely looks at your body, too focused on “understanding you on a deeper level” and “building a strong connection” to fully appreciate the way your ass and tits fit in your bikini.

“so what do you do for work?” he asks, hand firmly gripping a glass of… nothing? odd.

you sigh, sticking out your tongue as you think long and hard about your answer. “i barbie,” you respond simply, shimmery pink eyelids shifting to silver as you blink once. twice.

the ken, whose name you do not remember, nods his head and takes a sip of his air. “oh? well, i like to swim. my job is swim, actually. it’s why i come to these dream house parties.”

you raise a perfectly arched brow. “to… swim?”

“yeah, to swim. i swim.”

you both sit stiffly by the pool side, your pink toes resting firmly on top of the water’s very flat surface. “wow,” you muse, “imagine that.”

the ken looks proud of himself, a smile appearing that takes over his entire face. his teeth are huge and you can’t help but giggle, leaning back on your palms. “so, do you want to talk about anything else?” he suggests, assuming your amusement meant he was doing something right. “i could get you a drink if you’d like!”

you wouldn’t, but you are all bouncy hair and glossy lips as you shake your head. “no thanks, i’m more of a juice kind of girl.”

“i can make juice.”

a voice you don’t recognize cuts through your conversation, your gaze shifting up to see another ken standing (very) tall on the other side of the pool. his eyes are obscured by thin dark shades, hands tucked in his swim trunks. his torso is bare except for the unbuttoned hawaiian top he sports, coincidentally matching the soft pink of your bathing suit.

he’s striking, obviously, but what really catches your attention is the way he immediately begins walking across the pool — gasps coming from all around you as he makes his way into your space. “i can also swim,” he adds as he shoots a cheeky grin in the other ken’s direction, “a lot of us can.”

ken one pouts, crossing his arms across his chest. “yeah? well i’ve never even seen you before. what kind of ken are you?”

ken two makes eye contact with you as he answers. “a special edition,” he gloats, “fresh out of the box.”

he must know how much that turns you on. a brand new ken? the only one of his kind? you can only assume that he’s the new favorite, like you were the favorite barbie.

ken one abruptly stands, but he tries his best to appear brave despite obviously avoiding the pool. “oh, yeah? well, what’s your job, new guy? is it beach? everyone can beach!”

ken two refuses to spare him a glance, solely focused on you. “there is no beach.” he says this flippantly as if it’s the most obvious of observations one could make. “and my job is smoothie... you like smoothies,” he tilts his sunglasses down to rest on his nose bridge and you see the prettiest blue eyes you’ve ever seen, “don't you, barbie?”

the implication of his question doesn’t go unnoticed. if you looked deeper in your memory maybe you’d remember a certain head of white hair working the smoothie counter. you slowly ease your own sunglasses off of your face, pushing them upwards to rest in your hair. “that’s right,” you respond, leaning in close. “so what’s your name, ken?”

his smile is pretty, fits his face just right.

“call me satoru. they put so much effort into those big letters on my box, so the least we could do is use them.” he reaches a large hand in your direction and you try your best not to focus on his very long fingers.

your smile widens as your palms kiss. “satoru,” you purr, “do you wanna go beach with me?”

ken one is all but forgotten as satoru tugs you closer to him. your free hand lands on his chest and the other follows as he moves to grip your hips. when you’re this close, you can see the perfectly sculpted structure of his face, the pearly smoothness of his skin. he’s perfect, not a single crayon mark or hair out of place on his pretty rubber head. brand new.

“oh, barbie,” he teases, “i’d love to go beach with you.”

you can hear the sounds of multiple whispers, the angry scoffs of ken one barely audible as you cross over the pool with your new companion. satoru is all smiles as you make your way across the poolside and pass the plastic hot pink minibar, more than happy to let you pull him along.

even as you make your way to the side of the dream house, he never stops smiling, keeping your fingers firmly slotted between his. you stop just a few feet away from the party, music humming in the distance.

when you glance to the side, you see a large wall of cardboard; markers and crayons decorating the brown material. the beach has always been in this direction, but you’ve never actually gone. you feel the absence of his hand as you try to make out the weird scribbles. they looked like… waves?

“see,” satoru hums, amused. “no beach. not actually. probably have to wait for the next play set.” his body shifts behind yours, hands trailing up from your hips to grip the meat of your waist. his chin rests against your shoulder. you cross your arms.

“you’d think with a special edition you’d at least come with a real beach.”

“nah, just a penthouse and a yacht. oh! i do also have a friend. suguru. we were a matching set.”

you visibly perk up at the sound of another ken for your roster. satoru smiles as you tilt your head in his direction. “a friend?” you inquire, a teasing lift to your voice.

he chuckles and begins to press soft kisses against your neck. “a very good friend,” satoru murmurs against your skin, “one that i’ll make sure you meet later but…” what started as gentle kisses morphs into swipes of his tongue, nips of his teeth that blush your skin. “i want you to myself first.”

your arms fall away as the hands on your waist move parallel, one gliding up to grope your breast and tweak your already peaking nipple with the tips of his fingers. the other reaches into your bikini bottoms, collecting the slowly building wetness between your lips and dragging it up to massage your aching clit. your body responds instantaneously, pent up from months of boredom. “i think that can be arranged,” you whimper, “feels good, satoru.”

you can feel the bulge of his cock through his shorts, the heat of it radiating between the plush fat of your ass and upper thighs. “yeah, barbie? want me to give you more?”

you nod hurriedly, gasping at the feeling of his long fingers spreading you apart, easing into your tight heat as you relax in his hold. the hand on your breast moves to grips your jaw, forcing your face into the direction of satoru’s waiting mouth.

he drinks you in, tongue grazing the seam of your lips to ask for entrance. you barely register the way he begins to rut into you, a wet patch slowly building within his thin swimming trunks. “such a pretty doll,” he muses, “i bet you’re tired of being treated like a princess, huh? need someone to fuck you in public, take you where everyone can see?”

you mewl at his words, the speed of his fingers quickening as they bully into your tight cunt. “they act like they’ll b-break me but they n-never do—!” you moan loudly as his thumb stimulates your clit. your nerves become alight, your legs shaking already and he’s barely even touched you. the thought of him filling you up with cock has you clenching down on his hand.

“how dare they,” he teases, “i guess it’s up to me to make things right, huh?” satoru eases his fingers out of you, twisting your body around so that you’re facing him. it only takes a second for him to have you pressed into the dream house, a squeak leaving your mouth as he begins to drag his tongue between the swells of your breasts and tugs down your bikini to expose you to him.

“s-satoru!” you yelp as the material snaps thanks to your flimsy straps, gripping his hair as his mouth sucks hungrily on your hard nipple. he’s so aggressive in the way he looms over you, keeps you pressed into the wall with only his sheer strength. your mouth waters as you watch his cock twitch and throb beneath his shorts, the slight tent easy to grab with your smaller hand.

he bites you especially hard, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and streaming down your cheeks. satoru presses an apologetic kiss to your skin, dragging it all the way up to your neck so that his face can rest against yours. he pushes his hips forward to press eagerly into your hand. “fuck, pretty. i knew that you liked to fuck in public but you really are a dirty little thing… aren't you?”

his words send shivers down your spine, sharp intakes of breath tickling your ear as you grip him harder. “yes, and i can show you. we can walk back there with me covered in your cum so everyone can see.”

you feel him buck into your hand and you can’t hide your sly grin. the idea is not only pleasing to you, it would seem.

“yeah, barbie? gonna show those fucking losers what i did to you? cover your face in my cum?”

your breasts are pressed against his hard chest, pussy leaking between your thighs and drenching your panties. you know that if you don’t stop soon someone will find you. the thought has you quickly falling to your knees, hands pawing at the front of his shorts like a lost puppy.

“i wanna make you feel good, ‘toru,” you whimper, “please let me.”

if he seems surprised by your eagerness, he doesn’t express it, placing a gentle hand on your head and petting your pretty hair. “how could i say no to you, huh? take it out. it’s yours now.”

you do as you’re told, removing his shorts just enough to reveal his hard length. it’s the prettiest you’ve seen, soft pale skin that transitions into a leaky, pink tip. you could tell by the way it twitches that he aches for you, confident as your glossy lips swallow him in a slow descent.

his hand grips your hair, not tugging but keeping you steady as your tears continue to streak down your face. your vision is blurry as you look up at him with wet lashes, the flat of your tongue curling around the base and dragging up the underside of his length.

satoru is a vision above you, sunglasses lazily on his face so that those pretty blues watch you in approval. he clenches his teeth as you bob your head, each movement accompanied by a wet gag that gets silenced by the tip of his cock grinding down your throat.

you hear the footsteps before he does, clenching around nothing as two kens turn the corner to walk down the path of the dream house. they grimace at your indecent display, annoyed that they’ve once again found you with someone’s cock down your throat.

satoru grins at them, his hand gripping tighter on your head as he pushes you down to his base. your throat contracts as you sputter and writhe against his pelvis.

“you boys wanna keep watching? i’m about to cover her face if anyone wants to clean her up after.”

the two of them gasps, one ken hurriedly grabbing the other’s hand so that they could go off down another path.

you think that satoru is going to let you come up for air then, but he keeps you firmly in place. spit begins to fall from the corners of your mouth as he ruts deeper into your throat. you try to say his name but it’s covered by the wet slickness of your saliva.

“taking it s-so good for me, baby. gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine now.”

he finally lets you come up, immediately jerking off his cock as you cough and whine from your place on the ground. you’re unreasonably turned on, wanting so badly to feel him inside you again.

“princess,” satoru groans suddenly, grabbing the back of your head to hold you in place. “open your mouth —look so pretty— gonna make me c–cum— fuck!”

he lurches forward, hot strings of his load painting your face as you eagerly open your mouth. you taste the saltiness of his cum as it covers you in heavy stripes, painting your pretty skin white as you beg him to give it all to you. to officially make you his. you were a doll after all, possession came with the territory.

satoru’s toned thighs clench through his release, bucking forward a few more times to make sure he’s fully emptied himself onto you. with a lazy smile, he meets your gaze, rubs his cock against your cheek as you press gentle kisses to it as it softens.

you look wrecked, your makeup somehow still perfectly printed despite your debauched state. your breasts are covered in your spit and cum, soiled beyond recognition are your bottoms.

“more,” you whisper, “i need more of you.”

satoru gently wipes away at your eyelids, gripping your chin with his large hand. his eyes are heated and bright, a devious smirk on his lips.

“yeah? then come on, barbie. let’s go party.”

note: part two of this fic releases on halloween! check out the kinktober masterlist above.

tagging: @tteokdoroki @prettymoonlightsworld @supabrattyjacque @pelicanpizza @beelzmunchkin @isa942572 @chaoticevilbakugo @titantears @mamayan @bbytamaki @roronoazorosbxtchh @vinlycore @peonypersonified @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @prop-2-ol @tojisssssugarbaby05 @peace-for-levi @alpha-mommy69 @v3nxxs @fictionalthirsting @kekestweet @jottositto

TODOROSIE. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

[juststrawberrytea]

EROGENOUS ZONES.

# includes: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurō, bokuto kōtarō.

# warnings: 18+ content, f!reader, dirty talk, hickeys, bokuto’s thighs, hair pulling, handjobs, making out, car sex, blowjobs, not proofread.

— atsumu’s scalp and nipples are sensitive. first, he gets turned on easily if you run your hands through his hair and pull. he loves eating you out so much because you always pull his hair. second, he’s a slut who loves having his nipples played with. moans loudly when you lick and suck at his nipples, he’s a goner if you do this when he’s close to cumming.

“‘m gonna cum, please.” he chokes on a moan when your hand’s pace on his cock increases, your tongue swirling just a little faster around his nipples. atsumu runs his hand through his golden hair, tugging at it as his orgasm gets closer. you gently bite down on his nipple, your hand still working his cock. with a choked groan, he finally cums, back arching as he fucks your fist to ride it out.

— osamu feels a heat surging through his body when your lips press against his neck; you suck a dark hickey into his skin, and when you finish marking up his neck, you move upwards, where you trail light kisses along his jaw. sometimes you whisper dirty things to him in between each kiss, which only adds to his arousal.

“‘samu,” you whisper, pressing a light kiss to his jaw, “i want to ride you tonight.” he lets out a chuckle that immediately turns into a moan when you grind your hips against his. “i want that too,” he whispers, “wanna see you on top of me, pretty girl.” he looks good like this, you think, with his marked up neck and tousled hair, messy from your fingers. he turns his head, nose bumping against yours before he firmly kisses you, hands slipping down your shorts to squeeze at your hips.

— kuroo can’t help the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine when you tell him something, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. make it dirty, and he’ll be pulling you away from your friends with a cat-like grin, a fake excuse to leave tumbling from his lips.

“you were acting like a tease earlier,” he groans loudly, amber eyes watching your body move as you bounce on his cock, “is this what you fucking wanted?” you answer with a moan, gasping when he lightly pinches your clit. feeling himself getting closer, he hisses when you clench around him. your movements pick up, turning more desperate than before. “tetsu!” you whine, gasping when the head of his cock hits your sweet spot. he curses loudly, head tipping back as he cums. “feels so good baby, s-squeezing me so well- fuck!”

— bokuto’s sensitive and you know it. even the most feather-light touches on his inner thighs make him shake. when you’re between his legs and giving him head, he can’t help but whine for you to touch him more. he’s that addicted to you <3

“fuck,” he moans when your tongue swirls around the tip of his cock and your hands stroke at his inner thighs, squeezing at the supple skin. you slowly start to take more of his length down your throat, both hands falling away from his thighs; one hand goes to the base of his cock, and the other moves to play with his balls. “‘m getting close, baby, more please.”

[juststrawberrytea]

me after writing out the scene I imagined in my head:

[juststrawberrytea]

❝ post match celebration ❞ — bokuto kōtarō x f!reader.

contains ; semi-public sex , needy / rough sex , cunnilingus , lots of praise + dirty talk , multiple orgasms , very light degradation , breeding / creampie .

wc ; 1379 .

note ; completely and utterly self-indulgent …. basically wintarō canon made into an x reader fic hehe <333 rb’s + comments greatly appreciated !!

the locker room is eerily quiet as you enter, the rest of the athletes already heading out for the post match celebration while you tip-toe around in search of your boyfriend. “kou? where are–”

bokuto cuts you off with heated kiss, cupping your face with his massive hands and shoving his tongue into your mouth. he smells faintly of sweat and his skin is damp and cold, the remnants of a cold shower lingering.

his hands quickly wander from your cheeks to your neck, down to your chest where he yanks down the flimsy fabric of your top to expose your tits. rough fingers pinch and pull at your nipples, rolling the bud between them, making you moan into bokuto’s mouth.

he pulls away for a moment, allowing you both to catch your breath before he’s attacking your neck, littering it with tiny little bite marks and hickies.

“what-what’s wrong?” you choke out, head spinning as his hot mouth gets closer to your tits. he refuses to answer, wrapping his lips around your nipple and swirling his tongue around the hard bud.

“nothing's wrong,” bokuto mumbles on your skin, dragging his lips from one nipple to the other. “‘m jus’ really horny.”

his rough hands trail down your sides, slipping under your skirt and slowly pulling your panties down your shaky legs. he gets about halfway down your calves before ripping them straight in half.

you whine in protest, mumbling about how those were one of your favorites! but bokuto doesn’t seem to care in the slightest, pressing you up against the cold lockers and settling between your legs, keeping them apart with his broad shoulders.

“i’ll buy you new ones.”

he spreads your slick folds with his thumbs, exposing your messy cunt to his hungry gaze. your face burns in embarrasment– despite the countless times he’s done this, it’s still such a shock.

“prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” bokuto mumbles in a daze, pressing his nose to your pubic bone and inhaling deeply. “‘s sweet, too.”

“kōtarō!” you squeak, covering your face with your trembling hands.

bokuto presses the pad of his thumb right on your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles and watching in awe as your pussy drools before his eyes. he leans in, sticking his tongue out and licks a stripe from your quivering hole up to his thumb and then back down again.

he continues teasing you for what feels like hours, keeping the same pace with his thumb as he slowly licks your folds, dipping his tongue into your wet heat every so often and flicking the muscle upwards, catching your sweet spot with the tip before pulling it out again.

“kōta– ah! kou, please!” you beg, lacing your fingers through his hair and pulling his face closer, grinding your hips down at the same time, covering his chin in your slick.

bokuto wraps his lips around your clit and hums, amused by your adorable display of desperation. he knows what you want, to be filled, but he’s too wrapped up in your sweet taste to do anything but continue lapping at your messy cunt.

he feels your legs begin to shake, threatening to give out at any second so he wraps your thighs around his head, supporting your weight on his shoulders and reaches up to hold your waist to keep you steady.

the familiar feeling of an orgasm approaching washes over you, like a rubber band threatening to snap while bokuto keeps his relentless pace. “i’m– ‘m gonna-”

“mmmhm” he hums again, sliding his hands up from your waist to your tits, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands before pinching your nipples, tugging at the sensitive buds. the additional sensation is enough to send you over the edge, throwing your head back against the lockers and crying out a mess of profanities and whines as bokuto guides you through your high.

he pulls away from your sensitive cunt, chin glistening with your cum. he smiles dumbly at you, turning his head to place wet kisses along your inner thighs. strong arms wrap around your waist as he stands up, pressing his body against yours.

“‘m not done with you yet.”

and then he’s flipping you around, your front pressed up against the lockers. just as you turn your head, you see your boyfriend spit into his palm and reach down to spread his saliva over the head of his throbbing cock.

“please, please, please,” you beg shamelessly, arching your back to present yourself to him and bokuto lets out an animalistic groan at the sight of you begging for his cock like this.

he doesn’t make you wait long, lining up his cock with your dripping hole and pressing into you gently, letting your tight heat get used to his fat length.

“fuuuuuuuuck,” bokuto moans as your pussy quivers around him. “there’s my fuckin’ girl.”

he lands a firm spank on your ass, loud enough to echo in the empty locker room and you whine at the prospect of someone finding you like this– bent over, ass bare, pussy stuffed.. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more.

“feels good baby?” bokuto hums, leaning down to whisper directly into your ear. he’s gauging your comfort, if you’re enjoying this, if it hurts, if you want him to stop.

“y-yeah,” you breathe out in response as bokuto bottoms out, his damp skin pressed against your heated back making you shiver. “move p-please..”

bokuto grins and grips your hips tighter, pulling out halfway before slamming his hips back into yours with so much force your head spins. he sets a brutally quick pace, pounding into you while he mumbles nonsensical filth into your ear.

“pussy’s so fuckin good”

“squeezin’ my cock just right baby”

“gonna fill you up, gonna cum deep in this fuckin pussy, just how you like it”

that last one sends you flying into your second orgasm, every muscle in your body clenching but bokuto keeps his same pace, fucking you through it.

“there you go, there’s my good girl.” bokuto praises, moving his hands from your hips to your tits, squeezing the flesh in his palms before pinching your nipples.

“so good, so good kou!” your whine is pathetic, a high pitched mockery of your voice.

“i know you’re not done yet, greedy little thing.”

and he’s right, you aren’t. but neither is he.

bokuto leans back and grabs your hips, keeping his feet firmly planted on the ground while he starts elongating his strokes, angling his hips upwards with each one, all while pulling your hips back to meet his quick, brutal thrusts.

each one feels like it’s knocking the wind out of you, in the best way possible. another orgasm starts building in your tummy, getting closer and closer with every bump of your sensitive spots.

“close again baby?” bokuto beams, “my dirty girl.” his ability to talk normally while keeping his same pace never fails to amaze you (or turn you on), because you’re barely able to form coherent sentences the second his cock touches your pussy.

“yesyesyes!”

bokuto bends his knees slightly and starts thrusting harder as you pathetically cling to the cold metal of the lockers. the new angle allows his heavy balls to slap against your clit from the sheer force of his thrusts, and you’re not even able to form words as a warning, not that you really need to. he can feel the way your pussy clenches so hard it’s like you’re trying to milk him dry, the way your breathing stills and your head tilts back to expose your neck.

“good girl, good girl, that’s it baby- keep cumming for me,”

bokuto follows shortly after, thrusting as deep as he can, hot ropes of cum filling your womb with his seed. the two of you stay like that for a while, his arm wrapped around your middle to keep you upright while the other holds the top of the locker to keep himself standing on wobbly feet, cock still buried inside of your poor battered pussy.

“i love you, kou.” you whisper between breaths.

“i love you too-“

the sound of the locker room door opening makes both of you freeze.

“locker rooms close in 5 minutes!”

@loisuke , @kovjiro , @erosology , @tomotoa , @strawb3rry-gal , @lambro , @blueburr (couldn’t tag you !! ☹︎)

[juststrawberrytea]

​​you and bouncer!eddie fucking in the walk-in during a closing shift.

minors dni 18+

it's just the two of you on a wednesday night- too cold for even the drunks to venture out. you hadn't had much cleanup besides the few beers you served to frank, a regular, and you'd finished that before close.

eddie had sat at the bar with you, closest to the door in case someone walked in, but they never did. his hands traced the fringe of your ripped jeans while the jukebox played. you were giggling, so close you were practically nose to nose.

the two of you had gone out a few times, already planning for the next time you both had a night off. you liked eddie, a lot. and he liked you. he especially liked that you surprised him. like how you were naturally good at darts. or how you knew every word to 'starry eyes', you'd serenaded him on your first date, tipsy and giggly while he was sure he was going to marry you, right then and there.

he was even more sure when you'd sucked him off in the bathroom of the bar he'd taken you to. knelt on the grimy, sticky floors, head bobbing and eyes locked to his. he had his ringed hands fisted in your hair, head tilted back on the graffiti stall walls of the bathroom, groaning and muttering how good you were. you'd swallowed his load without him even asking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. he'd kissed you hard, pressing you against the stall, uncaring.

eddie was hooked. so enthralled by you, and the excitement of your budding relationship. it was new, thrilling, and the best part, is no one at work knew. sure, they might see the little smirks and teasing banter you two had, but you'd always done that.

on night like tonight, you could be more yourselves, lingering touches and stolen kisses behind the counter.

you had finished loading the lemons up, going to dump the ice in the kitchen and stock away the unused produce for the night before you could leave. eddie insisted on helping you, muscles flexing when he lifted and dumped the ice down the sink.

eddie followed you into the walk-in, pinching your ass just to hear you squeal when you bent over. he wrapped you fully in his arms, your little giggles filling his ears as he pressed you against the cold, metal shelf.

"you look so pretty." eddie groaned, stamping kisses up and down your neck, biting and sucking on the skin that had you mewling and clawing at him.

"ed-ed, we can't. we're at work-"

"no one's here." eddie sighed against you. "just me and you, c'mon. been thinking' about you all night." you whined when his hands went lower, cupping you through your jeans, rough fingers pressed hard against your slit.

you gave in, letting him pull your jeans and panties down, lifting your shirt and bra up over your boobs. he smirked at the way your nipples hardened in the cool air of the walk-in, leaving your shuddering under his glare.

moments later, he had you clawing at a shelf, bent at the hips so your ass was pushed back into his face. eddie was on his knees, spreading your cheeks and lapping at your clit like his life depended on it. he grabbed the doughy skin of your ass, squeezing it and moaning as you shimmied back further into him, begging and gasping.

once he added his fingers, slipping them in slow into your sopping hole, you were shaking, writhing in pleasure. eddie pressed kisses to your ass cheeks, up your spine and to the back of you neck until he stood at his full height, pumping himself a few times before sinking into you with a grunt.

he anchored his hands on the shelf above you, hips snapping furiously into yours, eyes rolling back at the sound of your echoey moans in the freezer. the buzz of the cold air filling the space, mixed with your breathy demands of, "please, eddie, right there!" had his abs tight, gritting his teeth to keep himself from cumming too early.

you came undone quickly, your first orgasm leaving you sensitive and mushy. eddie watched as you dropped to your knees, finishing him off with swallowing him wholly. he fisted your hair, guiding your head on his cock again, groaning when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to get him twitching and spilling down your throat.

you turned off the lights and machines on shaky legs, clinging to his arm when he walked you to your car. you wrapped your arms around his torso, smirking up at him as he finished off his cigarette.

"wonder when we get to close again together, hm?" eddie smirked. "think we should make that a new closing task for us- fuck in the walk-in after close. whaddya think, baby?"

[juststrawberrytea]

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟑: 𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐭 。°。° 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐣𝐨𝐛

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: l lawliet x gn!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut {minors + ageless blogs dni!! you’ll be blocked}

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: needy!reader, switchy!L, oral (reader giving and implied receiving), blowjobs, cum swallowing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.8k+

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐊. he’d sit in the chair in front of his computer for what felt like forever. sometimes all you could offer to coax him out of the spot was sweets but there were occasions where even that didn’t work.

it wasn’t as if you wanted to disturb him while he was working all the time. but when you got needy that desk was your worst enemy. like now, when all you wanted was to touch him, you were tempted to drag him away from his laptop.

your whines for L to take a break fell on deaf ears. apparently he was too enthralled in the research he was doing to hear your begging. eventually you grew fed up and you walked over to stand in between him and the screen.

“you’ve been at it for hours. can’t you come keep me company?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

in response L somewhat dismisses you. “i’ll join you in a bit when i wrap up what i’m working on” he promises, earning a roll of the eyes from yourself. if you had a nickel for every time he said he’d give you attention in a few minutes.

clearly trying to reason with him wouldn’t work. a feeling of hopelessness starts to overcome you before a light bulb goes off in your brain. without much warning you suddenly kneel down between L’s legs. it’s hard for him not to notice this action and of course he raises an eyebrow.

“what are you up to?” he questions. you don’t grant him the courtesy of a response. instead you toy with strings of his grey sweats. L opens his mouth to say something else but cuts himself off immediately with a hiss. pulling his loose pants down ever so slightly, you managed to release L’s cock from its confines.

you can feel his dark eyes watching you intently as you spit in your hand and wrap your hand around his pale length. L can’t help but squirm a little as you give his dick a few strokes. “are you that determined to get me to take a break?” he asks as an unmissable blush spreads across his cheeks.

with a sly smile spreading across your face, you silently nod as your thumb teases tip. he was always so sensitive there. you couldn’t get enough of the reactions you earned by giving the beige head a little attention. like L’s little gasps. you weren’t sure you could resist wrapping your lips around his cock any longer.

the moment L recognizes the warmth of your mouth, his hips buck. he’s almost ashamed at how effortlessly you made him abandon his priorities without any pushback. perhaps he should reevaluate his ability to have self control. not at this very moment of course. right now your tongue swirling around his member feels too good for him to care about anything else.

as you take him deeper L feels his hand hover over your hair. he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch you but when you grab his wrist and place his palm at the back of your head he takes that as granted permission. he gazes down at you through lidded eyes as his hand moves along with your bobbing head. fuck, you drive him crazier than he ever thought possible.

at some point his tip hits the back of your throat. at the very same time that you gag, L’s head falls back against his chair. “you keep this up and- shit- i’ll cum” he warns in between hitches of his breath.

hasn’t he figured out by now that that’s exactly what you want? for someone so smart he can be a real dummy sometimes. his prediction for the future only makes you move fast, choking on L’s cock even more despite the sore feeling in your windpipe.

“f-fuck i’m cumming” L moans, unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. your mouth is just too skilled for him and he ends up spilling his seed down your throat. “did you… did you really swallow it all?” he asks in disbelief after a few minutes of trying to catch his breath.

pulling his heavy cock off your tongue you nod. with your mouth now empty you’re able to open wide to prove to him there’s nothing left. the fact that you dutifully gulped down everything he gave you is enough to make L feel like he’s hard again.

“will you come to bed now?” you ask, wiping the spit from your chin on the back of your hand.

L contemplates this for a moment before shrugging. “maybe. i’m craving something sweet now” he hums as he assists you to your feet. “𝐒𝐎 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓”.

2022–2023 © ilyluffy — do not repost or translate my work. likes, reblogs, and comments are welcome

[juststrawberrytea]

I just wanna give him a good ✨MASSAGE✨ 😎😬🥴💦

Thank you to the peeps in the comments who found the artist! Go visit gol.denroot on Instagram!!!

[juststrawberrytea]

Ahhh! My first Silco post has just reached 1,000 notes! I could cryyy 😭 Thank you everyone, honestly it means so so much to me.

#🥂: ayva talks #im crying #thank you #you all have a special place in my heart

[juststrawberrytea]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn’t seem like a bad idea if you don’t count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Keep reading

#🧺: ayvas faves

[juststrawberrytea]

boys who push your back further into the mattress while fucking you from behind, nails digging into the flesh of your hips and leaving little crescent shapes, leaning over to whisper, “pretty lil princess likes being fucked like a stupid slut, huh?”

sakusa, oikawa, osamu, SUNA, kenma, matsukawa, tendou

VS

boys who lay you on your back and throw your legs over their shoulders, bending down to capture your lips in a kiss and muffle your mewls, murmuring, “that’s it, princess. taking me so fucking well, like the good girl that you are.”

daichi, iwaizumi, atsumu, BOKUTO, kuroo, akaashi, ushijima

[juststrawberrytea]

Keeping Inventory - pt one

Viktor x Fem!Reader Small Bookstore AU (NSFW)

Synopsis: Boss. Friend. Working with Viktor is great. Even if you have a growing crush on him. And you're only sorta sure Viktor likes you back. Until the power goes out one night while the two of you are doing inventory.

Warnings: nsfw content, sexual tension and flirting, some longing and yearning, dirty talk, kissing, grinding, handjob. Reader gains some confidence partway through and gets brave with what she does with Viktor

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Just a little something for Christmas. Nothing special. Pt two coming around New Year's Eve.

It wasn’t cold. Christmas was always supposed to be cold. It was chilly. There was a nip in the air–Jack Frost, if you’d be so festive to say–but it wasn’t snow-on-the-ground cold. And you hated it. It made you impatient. Granted, there were the positives. No getting snowed in. No scraping frost off your windshield. No fear of black ice or a snowplow burying your car. No five layers and boots that fit just a bit too snug with your thick socks.

“But it is cold,” Viktor said as he carefully placed a used sticker on the side of a book.

Bright, circular, an orange that hurt the eyes. But would peel off cleanly. That’s what mattered.

“No.” You hauled another box of books from the cart over to the table Viktor was situated at. Small, square, barely enough room for him and the stacks he’d been doing for inventory. He scribbled a book title down on something that should’ve been digitalized by now. Something that would be, thanks to you. Viktor did the hard copy, you did the digital. You had no complaints. “This…this is chilly. I’m talking about being so cold that you can feel it in your bones.”

“(Y/N),” Viktor murmured in a way you so often adored. Secretly, sure, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. He said it with a hint of amusement here. A playful lit. He cocked a brow as he peered up at you. There wasn’t much light in the backroom you’d found yourselves in, but those eyes still seemed to glow. Brown? Hazel? You swore they were gold. It was the only color fit for him. A man worthy of first place. “This is the coldest it’s gotten in the area in a decade. It’s redundant to compare temperatures and weather like this. Cold is cold.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he hunched over. Hair messy from a long day's work, one of at least seven canes–you’d been counting–hanging on the edge of the table, white dress shirt and red vest making him look like the modern dark academia embodiment of Santa. The way he studied each and every book so intensely certainly wasn’t helping squash those vibes. It hadn’t mattered how many times you reminded him, Viktor, we take every used book as long as it’s attached at its spine. Just pop a sticker on and mark it down, I have other things to do, you know. And Viktor would sigh, sit back, pen behind his ear, and smile just teasingly enough to send more than a few flutters to your heart.

Why rush a task when we get paid by the hour, my dear?

So you stopped reminding him. And the hours would tick by. Sometimes you did it in the morning, after he’d the previous night cataloging them. Others, it was the two of you like you were now, huddled in the backroom, working together. You handing him books in between typing away on the old laptop, praying your elbows wouldn’t keep nudging. At first, it was out of annoyance–as if he couldn’t keep to his own personal space. But then you started hoping for the little touches. The jolt of something they made you feel each time.

“Cold is when you walk outside and worry about getting impaled by an icicle. Not oh hey, I can kinda see my breath today.” You frowned as you struggled to read Viktor’s handwriting. For how meticulous he was about inventory, his handwriting looked as if he were trying to finish a two-hour project with a thirty-minute deadline.

“Luckily,” he muttered as he examined the next novel. “I’d never had to worry about that.”

You glanced up from the stack of books. You’d long stopped inputting the information digitally. You could do five books before Viktor finished his one. It was more fun to let the stacks grow and input the information at the end. Less chance of your personal bubbles getting invaded. Higher chance of you wanting it to happen. A smarter decision when trying to maintain your sanity. But smart decisions were not your forte when you were questioning Viktor long after the store had closed–eight at night, Monday through Sunday. The clock had just ticked past nine-thirty.

“Viktor,” you said slowly. “Have you ever even seen snow?”

“Of course I have.” He frowned as he sat the book down. “It snowed here when I was a child. If I can recall correctly, we got about an inch of it.”

“An inch?” You laughed. “That’s it?”

“Snow is still snow, (Y/N),” he practically cooed as he leaned towards you, handing you the next book. Your fingers grazed along the spine, sending a warm tingling sensation up the length of your arm. It felt like the heat in the building had been knocked up four notches. Like the broken vent in the room had burst open. “It does not alter the notion of whether I’ve seen snow or not.”

It took a few moments of hesitation to collect yourself before you spoke again. Close quarters with Viktor, the musty scent of book after old book being unboxed, like leather and old coffee. It practically hurt.

“No, you haven’t seen the good snow.”

“What, I dare ask, qualifies something as good snow over bad?” He examined the next book with watchful eyes and careful touches.

“Fluff. Endless mounds of white fluff. Trees whose branches are weighed down and coated with it like it’s powdered sugar. Just sticky enough to build snowmen with. And when you step into it, it’s like stepping into a cloud.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

You gave him a pointed look and he sat the sixth copy of Twilight you’d gotten in this batch alone down like it was a first edition of The Hobbit. He plucked his cane up from the side of the table and wiggled it in the air.

“Ice and snow do not mix well when I already rely on something else to help me move. I cannot imagine trying to clear any walkways if I lived in a home by myself."

“That’s,” you said as you sat back in your chair, trying not to jump when your feet touched underneath the table, “what you hire the kid down the street for. Easy.”

“Regardless.” He picked up the book and returned to examining it. “We were discussing whether it is actually cold or not. Snow does not dictate that. Cold is cold, and if I must wear a heavy coat and a scarf to stay warm, then I deem it cold.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved a hand in the air. “You’re still wrong, but get back to work.”

Viktor chuckled under his breath and shook his head.

“I am your boss and you’re telling me to get back to work. I, for one, have not stopped working. You on the other hand…” He leaned towards you and nodded at the computer that had long fallen asleep. “Ought to get back to work, Miss (Y/L/N).”

You typed in the entries with very shaky hands.

Six more days and it still hadn’t gotten cold. Sure, Viktor was bundled in his usual oversized black coat that hung down to his knees, wrapped in a gray scarf, a matching gray beanie pulled over his hair, making it curl at the base. But it wasn’t cold. You wanted snow. You wanted to throw your biggest coat on and still shiver. To sled and ski and ice skate. To sit by a warm fire while staring out at the falling snow, sipping on hot cocoa or apple cider. A warm blanket on your lap, a book waiting to be read.

You shelved books on autopilot as customers mingled around you. All you could think about was how dead it looked outside. A deadly wind rattled bare branches, littered trash barreled across the parking lot and onto the brown grass. Gray clouds shielded the sun and threw a gloomy cast over everything.

Antsy. You were antsy. Frustratingly so.

You jumped when the book you were about to shelve was plucked from your hand.

“What the f-”

“I do not believe Gaimen goes beside Miller,” Viktor whispered, chest almost pressed against your back. Your hand twitched around what should’ve been the book before you dropped it to your side. “Lost in thought?”

You ignored him and turned your attention to the cart. You still had a few more books to shelve in that section, but you still planted your hands on it and pushed it away from Viktor. He followed behind you, gray scarf swaying with each step.

“You’re still thinking about snow, aren’t you?”

“I might be.” You shoved the cart into the back room. “Shouldn’t you be working the register?”

“Shouldn’t you be shelving books correctly?” He sat the book down on the cart.

You threw a glare in his direction and he smiled innocently.

“Get back to work, Miss (Y/L/N).” He tapped your temple gently. “Don’t get too lost in there.”

Five hours later, it was empty except you and Viktor. The store had closed, books had been stocked, and Viktor was in the back flipping through the pages of books that had been dropped in the donation bin. You eyed a few of the romance novels he had stacked. Romance novels that you weren’t entirely unfamiliar with, that made your cheek warm as you typed them into the computer.

“It seems someone has finished a few saucy stories. We ought to keep these on the higher shelves to prevent any children from picking them up by accident.”

You would’ve choked on a drink had you decided to take a sip of water at that moment.

“Saucy?” You laughed. “That’s the word you’re going to go with?”

Viktor stacked another novel. “Yes, I believe it is.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure we have at least one thesaurus in this bookstore. Want me to find it so you can choose literally any other word?”

“Ah.” His eyebrows raised as he stopped his skim through one of the books. He cleared his throat and closed it. He scribbled the title and author down on his sheet and placed an extra used sticker on it that signified a twenty-five percent discount at the register. “Still trying to avoid doing your job?”

He handed you the book and you stared down at it with contempt.

“I don’t like what that sticker signifies considering the half-naked man on the cover.” You dropped it onto the table and typed up the information. “And forgive me for having a moment of zoning out today.”

“Mmmm, so that's a yes?”

"I don't feel like you're allowed to make fun of me considering you just used to word saucy to describe a romance novel." You pressed submit on the information and tossed the book on the to-be-shelved cart.

"Ah, well-"

Viktor stopped as the overhead light flickered. He frowned when it stopped. It wasn’t the first time the shotty lighting had made a reminder of itself in the room. Sometimes the heat would just suddenly stop, too. Other times, the light would just flicker and flicker and flicker until you climbed a ladder and changed the bulb. He waited for it to do it again. Already getting ready to point you in the direction of the closet where you stockpiled the bulbs.

But it didn’t.

It stayed on, almost to spite Viktor.

And just as he went back to looking over the book, you were blanketed in darkness.

Viktor cursed. Cursed again when the heat seemed to do just as the light had and the room was filled with a stale silence. You wiggled the mouse on the laptop and the screen lit up. Just enough to illuminate your face, but that was still better than nothing. You turned it towards Viktor, who was already shaking his head and sighing.

“Let’s hope it’s an area-wide power outage and not simply a problem with our building.” He rolled his shoulders. “I shall go check the fuse box.”

“I’ll go get outside, see who has power and who doesn’t.”

Viktor nodded as he pulled out his phone, lighting the path out of the room. You followed behind him into the front of the shop, just as dark with the front blinds pulled over the windows. Viktor went to the right as you headed towards the front door. But you stopped short. How exactly was Viktor going to hold open the fuse box door whose hinges were too loose and hold his phone? You hesitated before following Viktor into the side room–smaller than where the two of you logged inventory.

Room was too kind of a word. It was a closet. It was a broom closet where you kept spare receipt papers, hid books that you hadn’t wanted customers to buy before you had the chance to snatch them up, and an assortment of printer paper, pens, pencils, (closed) box cutters. A broom, a dust pan, a duster. The lightbulbs you'd kept stockpiled. And smack dab on the wall across from the door was the damn fuse box that you refused to ever touch. I won’t be liable for any damages because I accidentally fuck something up. And Viktor had laughed, assuring you that you’d never have to touch it.

“Only the owner, Heimer, myself, and the assistant manager will ever deal with it. You needn’t worry,” he said as he walked you around the shop on your first day.

Interviewing was always stressful, but it was doubled when you walked into the store and realized you had to interview with Viktor. Even worse was when you discovered he was going to be training you and showing you around. Sure, you became friends rather quickly–a month into working there was when you finally considered yourself friends–but it’d been an agonizing month of trying not to make a fool out of yourself in front of him.

Now you were still trying not to do that. But at least you could bicker while you suffered.

Viktor glanced up at you as you appeared behind him. He’d just gotten the closet door open. You held up your own phone and shined the light over his shoulder, and he seemed to accept the message before stepping into the room.

“Come,” he muttered over his shoulder as he finagled the fuse box open. “It’ll be easier with the light closer.”

“Okay,” you responded and stepped in.

It was cramped as all hell. You could barely stand behind him without pressing against him. There was no more than an inch of space between you as he looked at the fuses. He frowned as he flipped a few switches and nothing worked.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He spoke over his shoulder and you swallowed hard. “Would you mind flipping the light switch behind you just to make sure?”

You did as you were asked. You took a tiny step back to where the switch was hidden behind a stack of printer paper. Wedging your hand between the space, you flipped it. But nothing happened. You didn’t need to see Viktor’s face to know he was unhappy. He toyed with the switches a few more times before he inevitably gave up. He leaned his weight onto his cane and, without warning, let the thin metal door slam shut.

You jumped at the rattle. You might’ve yelped a bit too, but you hoped it was covered by the fuse box’s door shutting. What hadn’t gone unnoticed was the way you jumped towards Viktor. You stumbled as much as one could in such a minuscule space, not meaning to grab onto Viktor entirely, but when you felt like you were going to topple over into metal shelves that were going to hurt and scrape, that became the panicked move. Two fistfuls of his navy sweater, a swear and a half, legs tangling and feet trying to grip on the concrete floor. His cane bounced on the floor as you hit him.

Viktor’s hands came down to your waist and you froze. Your phone had fallen in the scuffle–the light diminished–and left the two of you in nothing but darkness. His heart raced beneath your hands as you tried to flatten them out, smoothing the wrinkles you’d hoped you hadn’t left in his sweater. You knew it was just because you’d scared him as much as he’d accidentally scared you. But there was that small flicker of hope that it was because of you. And not because you’d suddenly jumped him in the closet.

“(Y/N),” he whispered. You could get addicted to hearing him say your name. “When something scares you, it’s best not to jump in the direction of the noise.”

You felt his breath against your cheek. His lips, too, gently grazing your skin. It stole your words–he stole your words. You let out a shaky breath as his hair tickled your temple and his hands veered up over your ribcage. He shifted his weight around on his feet, and his hands went higher. Skimming up your arms where you could feel the feather-light touch even through your sweater until they got to your shoulders.

“Stay still.” He brought a hand to your cheek and you hadn’t needed his words to remain frozen. You stayed utterly motionless under his touch as his palm–a strange mixture of soft calluses–caressed you. Over your cheekbone, down along your jaw, over your neck. He stopped there, digging his nails in slightly and your heart seemed to flip in your chest.

And then he leaned down, plucking up his cane from the floor.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he flicked his phone's flashlight on. You hoped you cooled your expression fast enough as it lit up the closet. “Ah. There it is.”

He stepped away from you and retrieved your phone from the floor.

“Here you are.” Your hands, as they always seemed to, brushed when he handed it to you.

“Thank you,” you said, turning the light on and abruptly throwing the door open. “I’m, uh, I'm going to go check outside.”

You didn’t wait for a response. Whatever he’d said–if he’d said anything at all–was left in the closet as you practically sprinted for the front door. You fumbled to unlock it, knowing you could easily check behind the blinds. But, without a jacket on, you were looking forward to the rush of cool air that you were going to walk into.

Except when you swung the door open and stepped outside, you weren’t hit with cool. You were hit with cold.

Utterly freezing cold.

Which would’ve thrown you off had you not been, quite literally, thrown off your feet.

A small patch of ice had formed in the last few hours you’d been holed up in the store, and the world around you spun as your feet lost traction. The wind was knocked from your lungs as you landed flat on your back, wincing at the sudden pain before laughter echoed around you. You shivered as the chill set in fast and unapologetically, but you still laughed.

“Don’t.” You held a hand up as Viktor appeared in the door. “It will end just the same for you.”

But he didn’t say anything. His eyes went from you, to around the block, to the sky. You’d expected a quip. Maybe something about how it was actually cold. But he was speechless. And then you followed his gaze up to where the moon should’ve been, hidden behind an endless sea of dark clouds. And then you saw them. The tiny white specks.

A smile that made your cheeks ache grew on your lips.

“It’s snowing.”

“So it is,” Viktor breathed, his breath a huge puff in front of him.

You–very carefully–sat up. It was snowing.

“Perhaps it is cold,” you mused, teeth starting to chatter. “You might win this one, Vik-”

You peered over at him, but he just had his eyes glued to his outstretched hands, watching the snowflakes land and melt. Over and over. Land and melt, land and melt. He smiled. Jovial. Goofy. Amused.

“I thought you’d said you’d seen snow.”

“I’ve seen snow on the ground.” He turned his hand over as if that were going to give a different reaction. “But I’ve never seen it snow.”

You said his name but he didn’t hear you. Not until you started to say something more–to tell him to fetch his coat, to pull up the blinds, to do something to just watch–but your words never left you. Instead, a few stutters, a full-body shiver, and a fuck decided to ruin the moment. And then Viktor was on you, one hand on the door frame, the other in front of you. A flicker of panic crossing his features. You took his hand–it felt like he’d been holding a steaming cup of cocoa before he’d grabbed you–and he hauled you inside.

“Come, let’s get you warm.”

You struggled to get back to the inventory room fast enough. You shuffled slower than Viktor as he pulled out his usual chair and threw your jacket over your lap. Just as you picked it up to slide your arms through the sleeves, he threw his jacket over your shoulders. Warmth tickled your face as Viktor sat across from you and closed his jacket around you. He cupped your cheeks and studied you like he’d found you passed out.

“V-Viktor,” you tried to say but he shushed you.

You swallowed as he wiped underneath your eyes and for a moment you feared that you’d started crying. But you knew the weird coolness on your skin was the fading chill and not tears.

The heat was already beginning to fade from the room but the lack of power was not on your mind as he cupped your cheeks.

“Perhaps I should get you home. Hopefully, there’s power there so you can warm up.”

“Driving i-isn’t a smart idea right n-now. If there’s ice o-on the sidewalk, t-there’s ice on the r-road.” And even if your car had new tires put on, the roads hadn’t been salted. “I-I’ll warm up and accept the walk home. It’s only a couple miles. I’ll survive.”

“A couple miles?” Viktor looked like he wanted to smack you upside the head. “(Y/N), I am not letting you walk home so late at night in the middle of winter when it’s freezing out.”

“I a-appreciate the sentiment, Viktor, but I would rather that than c-camping out here tonight.”

Viktor’s hands drifted down to your jaw, gaze following and settling in a spot that looked a lot like your mouth. You lost the ability to speak, trying to study his expression in the shadows thrown across it as his phone sat flashlight-up on the table. You weren’t even sure how much of your expression that he could see.

“My apartment is a ten-minute walk from here.” His fingers twitched. “If you’d like…you can stay with me tonight.”

You blinked at him. Suddenly, you weren’t as cold as you once were. Alone in Viktor’s apartment trying to get warm? That produced many images that should’ve been firmly locked behind a closed door in the back of your mind. It was exactly what you wanted. Which meant it was exactly what you shouldn't do.

“That doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Your hands fisted your coat. “Or, I mean, I-I don’t want to put you in a weird position, V-Viktor.”

Viktor was quiet a moment. Hands still holding your jaw, leaning forward just slightly. His thumbs swiped across your cheeks and you leaned into the touch.

“Perhaps it wouldn’t be.” His nose nudged yours and you knew your mind had been exponentially slowed by the cold. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten. But you felt how much it hurt when he pulled back. Hands dropping and resting on his legs. “But the invitation is extended regardless.”

Your brows furrowed as you processed his words. Wait. Why had he agreed with you? He had been holding you like you were one of the books he always over-examined. Tender. Gentle. Studying you like he was looking for creasing, wrinkles, crumpled or missing pages. Running his fingers along your jaw like he would the spine. Tipping your chin back like he was making sure no pages fell out when held.

You sucked in a harsh breath as he drew the tip of his fingers down your throat in a touch so tender and light you almost thought it hadn’t happened.

“Why?” Your voice nearly caught in your throat. You were solidly sure you weren’t shivering from the cold anymore.

“Did you hit your head during the fall?” He cocked a brow as he went to turn your head, but you grabbed his wrist.

“Why did you agree with me?” You had a loose hold on his wrist, but Viktor didn’t pull himself free. “Why’d you also think it’d be a bad idea for me to come over?”

Viktor canted his head and licked his lips. A moment to think. To stall, you hoped.

“I am not entirely sure how Heimer would react if he found out you’d spent the night at my apartment.” He didn’t sound nearly all that convincing. Especially when you’d been in the room when Heimer ripped into Viktor for inquiring about you also being allowed to stay late to help with inventory.

If you want to spend some quality time with the girl, Viktor, doing inventory is not the way.

You’d almost quit on the spot solely out of embarrassment. But the knowing glance Heimer threw your way after had rendered you speechless kept you quiet. So you stayed. And you certainly weren’t going to complain about spending the occasional late night with Viktor. Especially since you were sure you’d seen his cheeks pinken at Heimer’s words.

“Right.” You nodded. “Of course. Right.”

Neither of you moved. Viktor’s hand went back to your throat, curving back around to the base of your head. He swallowed hard but you remained still. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. This was already compromising. Being alone with Viktor, so close, his hands carefully holding you. He was your boss. He’d hired you. Showed you around the small shop. He was your friend. He was who you spent hours with after the store closed multiple times a week. Who you brought tea, who brought you cocoa. Who hadn’t told you to go home the night the laptop charger had disappeared and it’d died after thirty minutes.

“I better start my walk home then.” You started to shrug his coat off, but Viktor stopped you.

“Don’t go.” His voice sounded just as strained as yours had. He guided you forward and your hand slid down his forearm. He seemed to register his words, closing his eyes as he searched for what to say next. But no words came.

Instead, his mouth pressed against yours.

As if a loading symbol had popped up in your mind, you managed to count to seven before your hands shot up from your lap. Viktor tensed as you grabbed his sweater, gasping when you held him against you. It was a slow, hungry kiss. Like two lovers tangled in sheets. Lazy thrusts that drove them to the edge. Whispers and moans intermingling with huffing and whining. Don’t stop. Fingers intertwining. So tight. Hips slapping hips. I'm going to-

"(Y/N)."

Your hands flew into his hair as Viktor moaned your name. You rolled your hips forward until you were on the edge of your seat. Your jacket fell from your lap, and Viktor’s barely hung on your shoulders. It took all of four seconds for you to move from your seat to Viktor’s lap. Viktor sat back, elbow knocking over the stack of romance novels. They tumbled to the ground as Viktor wrapped his arms around you and held you against him. Kiss growing hungry, desperate. Tongues brushed, sighs mixed, hearts raced.

You rolled your hips and felt something particularly hard beneath you. Viktor hissed so you repeated the action. Again and again. It applied the friction you were craving more and more as you melted against Vitkor. He dropped his head back as your hips moved faster, and your lips trailed down over his jaw. You nipped as he groaned, his entire body vibrating. It fanned the flames, so you traveled south, lining his neck with open-mouth kisses. He shivered when your teeth grazed a little harder, when you sucked a little longer. When you tugged on his hair as you ground yourself against him.

“(Y/N),” he pleaded. “Th-this is why.”

“This is why what?” You dared a step further, skimming your hand down his chest, lifting up from his lap, and undoing his belt.

His mouth gaped as you slid your hand beneath the waistband of his pants. His hand on the base of your head came around and grabbed your throat. Not rough. A warning. One you could feel as he twitched beneath your palm. You ran your hand over him. Over and over, carefully, enjoying the way his breath hitched as he tried to control himself.

“I believe you already know the answer to that question.” He reached down for your wrist, but just as he grabbed you, you slid your hand under his boxers. The skin was soft beneath your touch and you swore Viktor nearly came just from that.

You leaned back and pumped him as best as you could from that angle. His entire body tensed and trembled. In your seven months at the bookstore, not once had you even dared to think about this. Not outside of midnight fantasies. Not when Viktor was so close to you. But now that it was happening? You were committing it to memory. The way he twitched in your palm. How his entire body tensed. His feet digging into the floor as he pushed up into your hold.

You went another step further, walking along the tightrope that was wobbling more and more by the second.

“If we were at your apartment, we would be doing a lot more than this.” You ran your thumb over his tip and Viktor vibrated.

“I-If you do not stop…I’m going to be doing a lot more than-”

You swallowed his words as you pumped him faster. You had no idea how you’d gone from categorizing books to seeing snow to fisting Vitkor's cock, but you weren’t about to question the turn of events. And if this were never going to happen again, you were at least going to let Viktor cum.

He kissed you back. Hard. You were sure your lips were going to be bruised by the end of it. But whatever rhythm he had been maintaining, it started to break. His hips jutted up and he snaked a hand between you to jerk his shirt up. An abrupt, desperate action. Pushing you away as he muttered your name and came, one hand on your shoulder, the other on his shirt. You watched him paint his stomach, eyes clamped shut, hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead. He trembled as he came, tips of his fingers digging into you through his coat and your sweater underneath.

“Whoops,” you joked, holding your hand up and turning it over as if the light from Viktor’s phone provided enough to see. “And there was so much more I had planned. Good thing I’m not coming over to…warm up. Although I must admit this did a mighty job at that.”

The hand on your shoulder followed the length of it, up your neck, until it rested against your cheek. He drew his thumb along your lips, pressing it slightly into your mouth when your lips parted. He shuddered and closed his eyes as you licked it. Sucked it.

“What you had planned?” Viktor smirked. “You are the one who has to go home without having…well…” He nodded down at his stomach. “An easy thing to rectify. Simple, really.”

You inhaled slowly as his hand dropped and skimmed over your chest, stomach, down to the waistband of your jeans. He hooked two fingers around a belt loop and jerked you forward.

“But as you’ve said, you’re not coming over tonight.” He smiled as you kept your eyes glued on his exposed stomach. Cock only half-way softening in your hand. “A shame, too. I would offer to do it here, but it’s much more comfortable on a mattress.”

You leaned forward to kiss him, needing to do something to quell the increasing feeling of combusting. But halfway there, the lights kicked on. You blinked at Viktor. He was flushed, panting. His abdominal muscles flexed with each breath. His eyes were glittering. Dark. Pupils dilated. He licked his lips and sighed.

“But if you’ve changed your mind…” He dragged his eyes along your frame. “Well, it is only a ten-minute walk.”

#🧺: ayvas faves

[juststrawberrytea]

just in case yall dont understand my breeding kink yet 😽 creds to @/5takuhu1 on twt

[juststrawberrytea]

Molly is back at it again! Your writing is just.. amazing 😭

Every Lover is a Madman - pt one

TA!Viktor x Fem!Reader AU (SFW)

Synopsis: Senior year, syllabus day, your professor's assistant who is charismatic, attractive, intelligent, and utterly blind to why so many students keep asking him mundane questions. Except you. The one student who seems to go out of her way to ask Heimer for assistance and not him.

Warnings: sexual tension and flirting, wet dream (sorta), a bit of embarrassment and awkwardness, mention of nipples cause you're reading Stardust, baby.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I tried. I'm genuinely sorry if this doesn't compare to "a theory." I still want to scrap the entire fic. Apologies if this is not up to par. NSFW in future parts. Don't worry, it's gonna get spicy.

*the title is based on a quote from Stardust but i might change it later. I just thought it fit with Viktor's mad scientist League origins*

Senior year. Bustling students. A full classroom–no more than thirty students–with small conversations filling the silence. Students who’ve had previous classes together, friends who signed up to take it together, strangers introducing themselves and making sure they’re in the right room. Class started in fifteen minutes, so you sat back, lazily scrolling through social media on your laptop, passing the time as you waited for syllabus day to start.

The door creaked open five minutes before start and two men entered. A short, older man with thick white eyebrows and a mustache that matched. He had rosy cheeks and a smile that brightened the room, his eyes, even from a few rows away, looked like a cloudless sky. He said hello to the class and waved at the students. Despite the summer heat, he wore a dark blue peacoat that had a pair of circular glasses tucked into the front. Professor Heimerdinger, head of the English Department. Teaching for thirty years. Absolutely adored teaching Young Adult Literature, the class you and twenty-nine others had been waiting to start.

But he wasn't alone.

The man behind him, slower despite his towering height, held a cane in his right hand and had a messenger bag slung over his left. His brown hair fluffed out at the sides and he wore a deep red dress shirt with a white vest and black slacks that hugged his lean frame. He was significantly younger than the Professor. Late twenties, maybe. His eyes, a glittering gold, scanned the room, his dark brows furrowing. His sharp features seemed sharper in the weirdly lit classroom–like the edge of a blade ready for battle. He sat his bag down at the massive desk near the front and logged into the computer. Professor Heimerdinger stood with his hands behind his back and held his head high, his blond hair bouncing atop his head. His voice was high and cheery. Almost jovial.

“Good morning class, I’m Professor Heimerdinger–Heimer for short, if you wish–and if you would like to know if you’re in the right classroom, this is Young Adult Literature. Aka, English 3234, section two. Welcome.” He motioned over to the other man. “And this my TA, Viktor. If you’d like to introduce yourself…”

Viktor waved a slender hand at the classroom.

“Good morning. As the Professor said, I’m Viktor. It’s nice to meet all of you.”

His voice was smooth with an accent you couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t exactly quiet, his voice carried through the whole room with ease. But it felt…soft. He smiled a crooked smile and you could feel a few classmates fighting to not match the expression. Yourself included.

“Viktor will be helping me out this semester, as he has the past couple. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask either of us. Now, shall we begin?”

Heimer went over the syllabus as Viktor sat at the desk positioned near the front of the room, eyeing the class most of the time. You barely heard the information on the syllabus, lost in studying the man’s features, but you’d read it probably five times before class so you weren’t entirely forsaken.

His fingers drummed on the desk, eyes gingerly moving across the room, lingering occasionally on who knows what. You looked away each time he was about to get to you. The idea of meeting his gaze made your heart race. After about the third time you almost locked gazes, you decided to focus on your computer screen, pretending to read the syllabus.

Heimer ended class after about thirty minutes with the instructions to get the required books–or at least some form of access to them. His high voice carried easily across the room. See you next time. You muttered a goodbye in unison with the group of students as you left in a group.

Three classes later, after some students had been weeded out during Add/Drop, Heimer gave his first assignment. A worksheet on that week's assigned reading. Analysis questions, basic what happened during this part questions, even some about writing in MLA format. It was to prepare you for what was to come.

More students than you expected raised their hands and asked for help. Some requesting Viktor, others asking Heimer directly. Your pencil stalled on an essay question about what a dying bird meant when two characters had met while saving a bird.

“Do you need some assistance?”

The voice was near your ear and you felt a hand rest on the back of your chair, pushing it slightly away from you. The cool voice was quiet, accented. You met his gold gaze and your brain seemed to malfunction. He looked at you with innocent quizzicality, mouth a soft smile. You blinked and glanced down at your sheet. This wasn’t your first English course. Nor was it your first analysis question. You’d just been zoning out staring at the board, thinking about the students who were actively asking for Viktor. Who nudged closer when he came over.

He hung his cane on the side of your desk and pointed at the question.

“Did you do the required reading?”

You would’ve been insulted had he not probably been asked about this question by nearly every other student. But you were a pro at this shit by now. It was offensive that he thought you hadn’t done the reading. It was a struggle to respond; your voice seemed to catch in your throat from a mixture of nerves and irritation.

“I did.” You stared at him. He smelled like pine and chamomile tea. “Multiple times.”

“Oh.” He searched your face before glancing down at your paper. “Is the question stumping you?”

“No,” you responded quickly. You felt your cheeks burn. “I was just…taking my time answering.”

“Some might say that when they’re trying to stall answering a difficult question.”

Your eyes narrowed. His voice was soft. Lacking any accusatory nature. But it still made you glare at him.

“Forgive me for wanting to figure out how to creatively articulate that bad things are now going to happen to the couple. Dead bird after bonding while saving one? Their relationship is either fucked or is going to go through some serious shit.”

“Ah.” Viktor nodded. “I can see why you chose to take your time answering.”

You smiled an amused smile a faint blush dusted Viktor’s cheeks.

“Apologies. You seem to be in the half of the class who had decided to do the reading.”

“It’s my last year, I’m not going to start half-assing classes now.”

“Also one of the few seniors in here as well, if I recall correctly. I look forward to reading your work, then.”

He stood, plucking his cane up from your desk. He rolled his shoulders and nodded down at your sheet.

“Well, if you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask Miss…”

“(Y/N),” you finished. Viktor smiled.

“Do not hesitate to ask, Miss (Y/N).”

Something flared to life in you as he seemed to linger. Then a hand went up a seat over from you and a whispered voice said his name. He perked up and made his way over. You heard the student ask about the bird question, and Viktor asked–a little disheartened–if they’d done the reading. I thought it was for the next class, they murmured. You swore, in the corner of your vision, you caught Viktor lift his head, stare at the front of the classroom, sigh, and then steal a glance at you.

Class ended shortly after the assignments were turned in and Heimer completed a short PowerPoint presentation on the reading.

“Goodbye, Miss (Y/N),” Viktor said as you left.

His words made heat travel down your neck. You avoided eye contact as you mumbled a goodbye.

The next two classes, the same students as before raised their hands and requested Viktor’s assistance. Occasionally, you’d meet his gaze and he’d cock a brow, waiting to see if you also asked for him. But you never did. Not when he was starting to occupy spaces of your mind that went beyond the classroom walls. Professor Heimer was the safer option. During the latter of the two days, after you inquired with Heimer about one of the analysis assignments for your most recent assigned reading, Stardust, you caught Viktor peering over at you with furrowed brows. He almost looked…offended.

“Everything alright?” He asked a few minutes later, casually strolling over after helping a nearby student who'd misheard Heimer as he began his lecture.

You stared at him with wide eyes. Heimer was standing at the front directing the class. Lecturing about the difference between high and low fantasy. You stopped mid-note when Viktor’s voice drifted into your ear. He peered down at you like Heimer wasn’t a few rows away talking to the entire class.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I saw you talking to the Professor earlier.”

You fought a grin.

“Yeah, I had a question about an assignment, that’s all.” You eyed the front where Heimer was, but Viktor paid no mind.

“You know if you ever need assistance, I do not mind helping.”

“I know. He was just nearby, that’s all.” That was a blatant lie. He’d been across the room when Viktor was only a few students away, finishing up answering their question. You avoided eye contact with him. He was standing so close. His words seemed to wrap around you, tickle your skin, send a tantalizing shiver down your spine.

“Viktor!” Heimer’s voice broke through the small space that sat between you and Viktor. “You quite enjoyed Stardust, did you not?”

Apparently, he had moved on to talking about the required reading.

“Yes.” He shrugged. “I am fond of the pirate ship and the magic.”

Heimer smiled and continued on, discussing magic structures and systems in literature. Viktor stayed beside you a little longer before he finally made his way back towards the front. He passed out a list of topics for the first big assignment. An essay, six pages, freedom to do whatever you wanted as long as it aligned with a topic on the sheet. Given your seat at the end of a row, you and Viktor were paired together once more. Your hands brushed as he handed you the pages. You quickly averted eye contact. It made your skin tingle like static shock. Brief. Would’ve gone unnoticeable had it been someone else who’d touched you.

But it hadn’t been someone else. It’d been Viktor.

It stuck with you as class ended. As Viktor said goodbye when you passed him, hands busy packing his bag, eyes cast down until you were beside him. Your cheeks burned and you rubbed your hand where his had touched it. Barely a whisper on his lips.

“Goodbye, Miss (Y/N).”

That night, when you should’ve been working on choosing your topic, your eyes drifted closed. Viktor appeared on the other side soon after, eyes glittering. Observing. You were sitting at your desk, staring down at your copy of Stardust, pretending to read. You were waiting for class to start, casually rereading the novel. Viktor was leaning back against the front desk, watching you, brows pinched tight. You didn’t dare to look up. The heat of his gaze upon you was more than enough to distract you and make your heart race. You wouldn’t have survived actually meeting it.

You heard him move. Anticipation gripped you with each light thump of his cane on the carpeted floor. Empty seats surrounded you, seats you stole glances at as Viktor stepped around them. You caught a glimpse of red–the shirt he’d worn the first day of class. That was all you let yourself notice.

His hand went to the back of your chair as he bent down, mouth beside your ear. His chest brushed against your shoulder and you felt his shirt against bare skin. You peered down. You were wearing a low-cut tanktop you had shoved near the back of your wardrobe. It hung beside a small black dress and a skirt that was a little too tight and too short. Clothes you saved for non-academic settings.

You swallowed.

“You haven’t turned the page in five minutes. Is everything alright?”

Your breath hitched and you forced your eyes to remain on the page.

The page that you very much were not reading.

“Would you like me to read it to you? Would that help?”

You shot him an annoyed glance which proved to be a mistake. His irises were dark, pupils blown, mouth parted ever so slightly. You tightened your hold on the book.

Viktor took your silence as a yes.

“‘He had kissed before, with the girls of the village, but he had gone no further. His hand felt her small breasts through the silk of her dress, touched the hard nubs of her nipples. She clung to him-’”

You’d stopped listening. How could you continue when your body felt like flames were licking every inch? He shifted his eyes from the page and peered over at you. You were having significant trouble breathing. He cocked his head to the side and visibly fought a smile.

“And now you are not even listening. We must work on your attention span, Miss (Y/N).”

Your voice caught in your throat. You dared a look down his neck. For a moment, you understood why vampires had an affinity towards necks. You wanted to plant your mouth on it and explore every inch of it. See what sounds he made when you kissed, nipped, sucked. You went to jerk your gaze away, but instead, they drifted down. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing just a patch of tantalizing skin. His collarbone. A bit of his chest.

You jumped as Viktor’s hand came to your jaw. It swiped down along the curve and his fingers perched under your chin, tipping your head back. You held your breath as he studied your face. His thumb swiped along your lip and you blinked. The dream went fuzzy, then. Like sitting by a fireplace, wrapped in a fur blanket.

You woke up the next morning thankful you didn’t have to go to Professor Heimer’s class. Very thankful.

The next time you walked through the doors to the room, however, proved increasingly difficult. Viktor was already there, busy setting up the projector, focus turned towards the computer. Until a classmate called your name. You barely recognized them. A strange familiarity. Viktor’s eyes shot up at the mention of your name. Your eyes locked for a second before you forced yours back on your classmate.

They asked about a homework assignment that had been graded for another class you had. Apparently, you both had Topics in English 3246: The Legacy of (Super)Heroes. You muttered a mediocre response before bee-lining it to the back of the classroom. You wanted to put as much distance as possible between you, Viktor, and the dream that was rapidly creeping in. You glanced at the desk—at Viktor—he was already peering in your direction. You swore his brows furrowed before he turned back to the computer.

By the start time, Viktor had taken a position at the front of the room. He waved a hand and surprisingly, half of the class quieted down. The rest were quick to follow suit.

“I am leading the class today while the Professor is out at a conference. Luckily, all we have planned is watching the first half of the movie adaptation of Stardust.” He walked over to the computer and pulled the movie up. “You will be asked about the film, so if you have not seen it, I suggest paying attention. If you have any questions or require my attention, I will be grading papers.”

He held up a stack of papers and a red pen. Excited whispers filled the room before the film began. A blessing. A movie meant you could force your focus there. No daydreaming about Viktor. Your mind could switch off and you could just enjoy the film.

Until he didn’t sit down at the desk.

He flicked most of the lights off—leaving only the ones closest to the back wall on. The row of lights that were directly over you. Your heart stopped as he sat down at the desk beside yours. His cane hung on the metal connector between the flat top and the back, papers sitting in a messy stack. He sighed. He was no more than a foot away and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted over.

You felt your cheeks burn as the dream involuntarily crept back.

You never questioned why so many classmates reached out to Viktor–that was fairly obvious. But now you were questioning their bravery. How could they even bear being near him if they thought about him the same way your subconscious had? Just being in the same room was difficult. Having him sit in the seat beside you was practically life-ending. If he pierced your personal bubble–leaning over your desk to answer any potential question–you’d combust. You’d be on your way to Charon to get a personal tour of the River Styx.

“You are not paying attention to the film,” Viktor whispered and every nerve lit up like a Christmas tree.

You glanced up from the spot on the wall–just to the right of the projector screen–and blinked. A solid ten minutes had passed since the movie started and you hadn’t paid a lick of attention to it. You dared a glance in Viktor’s direction. He was hunched over the desk, pen in hand, eyes skimming the paper. He scribbled down notes, frowned, marked off points, circled the total at the top, and then moved on to the next sheet.

He finished whatever annotation he’d been writing and side-eyed you. Your breath caught in your throat so hard you nearly choked on it. He cocked a brow, seeming to wait for a response, and that kicked you into gear. Just enough for you to frown, sit back in your chair, and feign some confidence.

“I’ve seen the movie before.”

Viktor looked back at the sheet and marked a point off. It looked like the in-class worksheet you all had been given last class.

“Then I can go ahead and give you the assignment for the film now, yes?”

You scoffed.

“By all means. Go ahead.”

Viktor nodded and tapped the end of the pen against the sheet.

“Three major differences between the film adaptation and the novel.”

“Tristran becomes Tristan, Captain Shakespeare doesn’t exist in the original story, and the movie has a far better ending than the original.”

“Better?” Viktor peered over at you in surprise. “A happily ever after is better simply because it’s a happily ever after?”

“We both know that’s redundant.” You forced your eyes on the screen and watched Tristan throw rocks at Victoria’s window. “But it’s arguably a more satisfying ending, and with a young adult audience, the movie works as a great potential introduction to the genre with a positive ending that can still be a tearjerker.”

Viktor went quiet for a moment.

“Pick another,” he said as the scene changed and Tristan and Victoria were enjoying a midnight picnic. “You can do better than the name change. ”

You drummed your fingers on your desk, but as an obvious one slammed into you, you suddenly felt your voice shrivel up.

“What?” Viktor asked, trying to meet your gaze.

You couldn’t dignify him with an answer. You couldn’t exactly answer him with there’s sex in the book. Even just the lack of adult content in the film compared to the book felt like too much. You could still hear dream him reading you the lines from the book–or what you think were from the book, you weren’t sure how well your memory had been in that regard. And you weren’t about to find out.

Finally, you croaked out a response.

“The candles.” You twiddled your thumbs. “They walk in the book, fly in the movie. Easy.”

Viktor hummed in response and picked up his pen.

“Very good.” His voice dropped to a barely audible volume. “I would’ve also taken the plot differences with the witch, and the removal of Gaimen’s more…adult content in the film.”

You slowly glanced towards Viktor who seemed completely unbothered by the mention. It wasn’t like he’d had a sensual dream about you, featuring that very specific aspect of the novel.

“I’m sure the mention of breasts and nipples would have sent Paramount’s executives into a frenzy,” he said completely unbothered.

His eyes met yours and they seemed to shimmer in the dim lighting. You took the slowest breath you’d ever taken.

“I’m sure it would have,” you murmured in response.

Viktor studied you for a long moment before he nodded in response. Neither of you said anything else until five minutes before class ended. Then, Viktor stood up and spoke over the movie.

“Remember, the Professor wants topics turned in by the end of the next class. Have a good weekend.”

You took a steady breath. That meant you only had a few days to figure out what to write about. A few days to look over the list of prompts that were very much not sparking joy. You rolled your shoulders, uncrossed your legs, leaned down very slowly to grab your bag. Waited for Viktor to gather up the papers before finally standing.

A student leaving flicked the lights and you noticed a handful of students casting glances your way. No. Towards Viktor. He was halfway to the front of the room when three of them approached him and asked about the assignment. The topic due next week and the upcoming one on Stardust. He answered without pause, holding the stack of papers against his chest, pen behind his ear, leaning his weight on his cane as he cocked his head to the side to think.

“Here, let me pause the film first, and then we can continue.”

You slung your bag over your shoulder and walked to the exit, grateful for the group of people between you and Viktor. At least you were given a break from him. A few days to spare you whatever weird feelings sprouted from being around him. A few days to focus on your paper topic.

Neither came to fruition. Viktor kept you up each night and by the time Monday rolled around, you still hadn’t decided your topic. You blamed Viktor. Your lack of sleep, lack of focus–it stemmed from him. Him in class, dressed in that tight red dress shirt. Bent over the desk, the top few buttons undone. Wondering what kissing the small patch of skin was like. His slender typing away on the keyboard. Gold eyes peering over the monitor.

Him next to you, walking behind you, hand skimming over the back of the chair. Bending down beside you, standing close, maybe rolling his sleeves up. Whispering in your ear, muttering things you weren’t quite hearing but could feel. Warm breath against your neck, hair tickling your skin. Pen coming down to scribble something, fingers holding it in a light grasp.

Or him after class, hanging back as he packed up his bag. Stealing glances towards you if you lingered. Cutting the lights and watching his eyes, like the room, darken. The door closed, no other students, a pointless question just to cover why you were there. You stepped towards him, again and again, until you were a foot away from him. He’d answer the question, unbothered by the close contact. He’d throw his bag over his shoulder, inch closer to you, closing the space until he was mere inches from you, and mutter a goodbye, Miss (Y/N). Don’t forget to do the reading.

You jerked awake to that exact line the day before the topic was due. If dream Viktor hadn’t left you frustrated before that, you certainly were so after. Even if they were of different origins. You were thankful you didn’t have to see him for the day and that you had classes that could distract you.

Until halfway through your evening course, you remembered that your deadline for picking a topic was tomorrow. And you’d tried. You’d tried writing something for each topic that even remotely caught your eye, but they just weren’t doing it for you. Anxiety pumped through you as you packed up your laptop. You shifted your worn copy of Stardust in your bag and paused. An idea sparked and you pulled out your phone, checking Heimer’s syllabus as you rushed out of the classroom. Hope filled you as you started towards a massive stone building a few blocks away. Heimer had open office hours on Mondays until seven. It was six forty-five so you were limited on time, but hopefully you could catch him.

The building was mostly empty when you searched for his office. A man working the front desk said you were good to go on in, and only a few other professors were in the nearby offices. You stopped outside the one that read Professor Heimerdinger, Head of the English Department, and took a deep breath. You knocked gently.

A few moments laters, the door swung open. Instead of the rosy-cheeked professor, gold eyes stared back at you, a brow cocking as he studied your expression. Your surprise seemed to read on your face.

“Miss (Y/N), good evening. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, I, uh, want to talk to the professor,” you said blankly. Your heart raced in your chest.

Viktor swung the door open more so you could see Heimer’s empty desk.

“He has already left for the evening. Is there anything I can help you with?”

You mentally cursed yourself for not just emailing him the question.

“No, it’s alright. I just wanted to talk to the professor about the topic sheet.” You started to turn, but Viktor took a step towards you. His brows twitched and the corners of his mouth pinched.

“As his assistant, you know, I am allowed to answer questions on his behalf.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that.

“I know,” you whispered.

“So,” he moved aside, holding the door open, “might I answer your question?”

“I…” You swallowed and Viktor frowned. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and sighed. “(Y/N), have I done something to offend or upset you?”

“What? No-”

“Do you not trust my judgment? Because I can assure you, I have studied under the Professor personally.”

“No, Viktor, that isn’t-”

“You are allowed to ask me questions. You do not have to go to the Professor himself, I am capable of answering them as well.”

“I know,” you snapped. Quickly, abruptly. Viktor’s frown deepened.

Silence fell around you. You were breathing heavier than you should’ve been, and Viktor seemed stiff and tense. You inhaled slowly, counting to ten to try and calm yourself down. Viktor shifted and narrowed his eyes. It was cruel, you realized, as you let your eyes take him in. You hadn’t let your gaze stray further than his face until now.

A black shirt, wrinkled, untucked from his khakis. The sleeves were rolled up to expose his lean forearms. You followed them down to where they tucked into his pocket before traveling back up to his chest. The top two buttons were undone. Just enough to give you a peek at what was underneath. That tiny patch of skin that'd been haunting your dreams. Your attempts at catching your breath and slowing your heart were instantly undone. You adjusted the strap of your bag.

Viktor sighed and turned his back to you.

“If you wish to leave the professor a note with the question on it, I am supposed to meet with him tomorrow morning. I can relay it to him then. He is not the best at responding to emails.”

“Okay,” you muttered and followed him in.

He motioned towards a stack of sticky notes on Heimer’s desk and you walked around the massive piece of oak. You plucked up a pen from a cup and eyed the desk set up for Viktor a few feet away. Half the size, covered in scattered assignments. Drastically different than Heimer’s, who had folders for all the classes stacked and color-coded. You sucked in a harsh breath before squiggling the question down on the sticky note, signing it with your name and class number.

You hesitantly walked over to Viktor’s desk, where he had already sat back down, and handed him the sticky note. He looked at you with a curious sense of longing that made something in your chest hurt. But you couldn’t exactly tell him why you preferred to go directly to Heimer. It definitely wouldn’t help the rocky relationship the two of you seemed to have.

You settled for something else.

“None of the topics were really…doing it for me, if that makes sense.” Your voice was quiet. A mere whisper as you spoke. “So I wanted to know if I could do create my own topic, and do an analysis on the differences between the novel and the film adaptation of Stardust.”

Viktor glanced down at the note and stuck it onto the front of the neatest stack of papers on the desk.

“I do not see the Professor turning that idea down.” Viktor picked up a pen and started to grade the paper he must have been working on when you’d arrived. There was a brief pause before he spoke again. “Especially since I will tell him I already told you yes.”

You furrowed your brows and, as if Viktor could sense your reaction, he continued.

“You already gave me three and a half good differences last class. I would like to read what you can come up with when you’re able to properly analyze the two.”

“Three and a half?” You scoffed.

“Yes. The name one is trivial.”

“Trivial, my ass. Changing the main character’s name, whether it be for a trivial reason or not, is still an important change. And, you could at least get the number correct. Four and a half, thank you.”

“Four?” Viktor sat back. You fought the heat burning your cheeks at the memory.

“Yeah, the removal of…specific adult content.”

Viktor smiled.

“I do believe I was the one who gave you that one.”

“Just because you mentioned it first doesn’t mean I didn’t know it prior.”

“It is a rather important one, I’m surprised you didn’t mention it.”

You clammed up. Whatever anxiety that had softened in that brief exchange was back tenfold. You cleared your throat and Viktor cocked his head. Silence, once more. An uncomfortable one. It took a frustrating amount of effort not to stare at the undone buttons or his exposed forearms. The room felt too small and stuffy. There was no reason for you to linger after the conversation teetered off. But you felt drawn to him as he glanced up at you.

If you didn’t leave the room soon, you knew you were going to do something stupid.

You willed yourself to speak.

“Well, uh, thank you for approving the topic.” You started towards the door. “I’ll see you tom-”

“(Y/N),” he muttered, leaning forward in his chair. For a second, you thought he was going to grab your wrist or your hand. But his hands only twitched on the desk. He twiddled idly with the pen. “Truly, if I did anything to upset you or to make you think you cannot come to me for help, I am sorry.”

You should’ve left. In fact, you were trying to leave. Your hand was on the knob, ready to turn it. What you should’ve done was twist it, say I know, open the door, and then go on your way. And you tried. You tried. You managed to get the door open, but when you spoke, the two words you'd thought of were not the ones that left your mouth.

Being in such a small room alone with Viktor broke your sensibility.

“I ask Heimer directly because talking to you makes me nervous.”

You willed yourself to shut up. To just leave. You already felt your eyes widening as you realized what you said. Viktor straightened, eyes narrowing. He spoke slowly, like he was scared you were going to bolt if he said the wrong thing.

“I...make you nervous?”

Leave. You screamed it at yourself. You didn’t need another explanation than that. You could just say that and he’d take the hint. You didn’t need to say anything more. The door felt heavy underneath your grasp.

“Yes.” You clenched your jaw. “You do.”

“Why?”

It was such an innocent word. But there was no way that Viktor was unaware. He had to know that your classmates weren’t always raising their hands because they had a genuine question. That they were reaching out just to have an excuse to be near him. They’d smile, bat their eyelashes, lean in close. Telling him you’re cute. I like you, I want you nonverbally. There was no way in hell he was blind to that.

Two classes ago you watched a girl rest her hand on his arm as he helped her with a question about the upcoming paper. He’d smiled at her patiently, didn’t move her hand, and continued on with his answer like it was totally normal.

You scoffed. You tried to get your feet to move, to save you from worsening the situation beyond repair.

“Viktor…”

He stared at you, waiting for you to finish. You clutched the knob until your forearm started to cramp.

“For the same reason,” you muttered breathlessly, dragging your eyes from his to fix on a spot on the floor, “that a lot of the people in class ask you questions so often. And we both know it’s not because they don’t understand the material.”

The pink that stained Viktor’s cheeks deepened and that’s when your feet finally unglued themselves.

He inhaled slowly. Carefully. You could see the gears moving in his head.

"I make you nervous because-"

That was all your sanity could take.

“I have to go.” You let the door swing the rest of the way open and started out. “Thank you for approving my topic. Have a good evening.”

#🧺: ayvas faves

[juststrawberrytea]

sweater — ft. iwaizumi hajime ▷ content: gn!reader. a little angst. fluff. friends to lovers trope, and implied long distance relationship. ▷ a/n: this is inspired by an hc written by @juststrawberrytea <33 and also that one part of the song heather by conan gray.

"you know, iwaizumi," your voice echoes down the hall, a faint announcement to how devoid of people your dorm building is. you're walking with him to his room, carrying a box full of his belongings, helping him move his stuff back in.

he'd went to see his friend in argentina for a couple of weeks, and now that christmas is over, he's back - and you were the only person here that he knew, that was still meandering around at the university, despite it being the holidays.

that, and the fact that you could barely resist the feelings you had for the studious, straightforward and incredibly handsome male had coaxed you into helping him. he'd turned your offer to help him down at first, but of course, iwaizumi was a nice guy - he didn't refuse you when you asked a second time - perhaps simply because he didn't want to deny your kindness.

or perhaps, you hope, it's because he wants to spend some time with you. it's the reason why you offered, anyway.

"what?" he says in return to your statement, and turns to give you a glance, olive eyes flashing in the winter sunlight still pouring onto your backs from the entrance.

"did you know," you stop your own eyes from nervously jumping away from his naturally piercing gaze, and shift the box you're carrying higher into your arms. "that there's a thing where you give your sweater to the person you're into, on the third of december?"

"there is?" he asks, shifting his hold on the two boxes he's carrying. "i had no idea. is that common here?"

you laugh shortly. "i don't know about that, but it's sort of a tradition, you know. some people do it."

"so it's a trend." he says, peering past his boxes to watch the floor as he reaches the stairway. you give the elevator a longing glance, before following him up. "back home, boys in highschool sometimes give the second button on their jackets to a girl they like."

"oh?" you hope you don't sound too curious. "did you give your button to anyone, then?"

"nah." he shrugs, and you watch the light fall in his eyes again as you pass the window between the first floor and second floor. "did you get a sweater?"

you laugh again, and mimick him. "nah."

that was about an year ago. today, you're sitting with iwaizumi in your car, with him in the shotgun seat. the airport looms before you, buildings arching and separating to make way for the runways. cars pull to a stop around you, and people tumble out, some calling out farewells, others heading inside together.

some come out of the airport, and there are the sounds of people greeting eachother, of laughter.

inside the car, though, it's quiet. you stare outside, into the sky that's slanting away from its clear blue into muted gold and violet as the sun slowly disappears.

iwaizumi sits there, only a few inches away from you - but soon, the distance between you two will cross that of oceans.

you wish you had confessed to him earlier. you wish you had confessed to him at all. after that day in which you'd talked to him about the sweater, your feelings only continued to deepen and the two of you only grew closer and closer.

but you'd wanted to take your time with him, because you felt that he was the kind of person that wanted to take things slow, too - and you kept hesitating, kept stalling. now, now he's only a few minutes away from leaving.

"i'll miss you." you break the silence, voice thick. you don't know if it just sounds thick or if it's because of the way you're breathing oh, so slowly.

"me, too." he answers, and to your ears - your ever so helplessly hopeful ears - his voice is a little hoarse. "i'll miss you a lot. we've gotten through a lot, these years."

"yeah," you laugh shortly. "i wouldn't have made it past all those assignments without you to nag me through them.

he laughs too, but there's still that tense feeling between you two that just won't go away.

a minute of silence later, he clears his throat. you think he's about to open the car door and get out, so he can get his suitcases out of the trunk - but then he reaches into the back and takes the backpack he'd seated there.

"i, uh, i got something for you." he unzips the backpack, and pulls out a pretty shopping bag.

you give him a smile, ignoring the way your heart flutters, and watch as he peeks into the bag. "a farewell gift? you didn't have to, iwaizumi."

"call me." he swallows, not meeting your eyes. "call me hajime, okay?"

at that, you freeze. you feel your fingers go cold, and then your throat goes dry, and your heart's picking up its pace all of a sudden. "what?"

"yeah." he tears his gaze off of whatever's in the bag, finally, and looks up at you - and for once, his piercing, sharp eyes are incredibly soft. "this is for you. i don't know if you remember when you told me about this. but uh, here. it's for you."

he hands you the shopping bag, and you keep your eyes locked for a second, wondering if he's going to make his exit while you're inspecting its contents. he sits there, and you put your hand into the bag and—

your fingers touch warm, fluffy fabric - and you pull out a sweater.

for a moment, you stare at it - a pretty colour, with woven designs across it, and it's light. you haven't even held it for more than a minute yet, and you know it's going to be so comfortable.

your eyes stutter over to the car's dashboard, and notice the date as it pops up on the radio. 03/12.

the third of december. "you—" your breath catches in your throat a little, and when you look up at him, he's red in the face, and he turns around to grab the door handle. "i'd better get going now—"

"hajime." you call out, and the name is fresh, sweet on your tongue. he stops, of course - he stops, and he doesn't move, hand staying where it is on the handle. "hajime. what does this mean?"

his shoulders are tense, and he takes a breath. you wait, saying nothing more, expecting an answer.

he clears his throat, once, twice. and when he turns to you, his face is an even brighter shade of red. your mouth twitches, and you try to conceal the smile, telling yourself hey, he hasn't even said it yet. maybe you're reading all of this wrong and this doesn't even mean what you think it means.

"well," he exhales. "there's a tradition. where you give a sweater, to the person you have feelings for. on the third of december. and today is the third of december. and, well, i've liked you a lot for a while now so—"

you wish you had the patience to wait until he's done talking, but you don't - you're grabbing his arm before he can finish what he's saying, and pulling him to you, and kissing him.

it's a little sloppy and you're barely able to meet his lips right, but when he kisses back, your heart feels full, and the sick feeling in your stomach disappears, searing away with how warm you suddenly are, and everything's okay.

he's still about to leave, but that's okay - that's okay, because you know iwaizumi hajime well enough to know that whether the distance between you two covers mere inches or entire oceans, if you want him and he wants you, then everything will be okay.

#🧺: ayvas faves

[juststrawberrytea]

Daichi likes to lay his cock across your stomach from between his legs and coo down at you about how deep he’ll be soon 🥴

“See that, sweetheart? See how deep daddy’s going to be inside you?”

[juststrawberrytea]

Art by ひるね

Posted with Permission (reprint/edit and/or commercial use prohibited)

#hes beautiful