#Custom made lip gloss boxes

[pepsiboyy]

starboy part 4 (final <3)

P1 P2 P3 P4

pairing: y/n x chris sturniolo

summary: y/n, born and raised in los angeles, moves across the country to boston. when she feels like she has nobody, she makes some new friends at her new job. she grows particularly close with the sturniolo triplets, where she finds a lot in common with one of them.

warnings: some fluff, angst, LOTS of cursing, and bullying :p

lowercase intentional!!!

author's note: HIII sorry i took a few days to myself to like. play video games idk that's my excuse my bad yall but FINAL PARTTT yayyy

i took a deep breath as my arms were practically wrapped around myself. i stared at the star market sign and bit my lip, slowly stepping through the automatic doors.

i quickly made my way to the customer service counter, where i saw matt clocking out. he turned to me and his eyes immediately softened. "hey, y/n," he breathed, stepping towards me.

i smiled quickly and half-heartedly before taking his spot and clocking in.

"are you okay? you left real fast yesterday, and.. i don't know, chris said he tried to reach out and-"

"yeah, i fell asleep. i didn't feel good," i mumbled, biting my lip as i tried not to let any sadness show in my expression. i turned to matt and smiled softly. "sorry for leaving so sudden. i just felt.. unwell," i mumbled.

matt slowly nodded and smiled softly. "okay, if you insist... i just want to be able to be a friend to you, nick does too, and especially chris." he chuckled. all i could do was look at him, but it looked more like i was looking through him and spacing out. matt's smile fell as he sighed. "chris also mentioned that when you guys were sitting, he got a notification from-"

"damn, y/n is here again today?" maeve's voice rang as she set her bag down and practically shoved me to the side to clock in. "guess i gotta do everything around here today." she mumbled as she side-eyed me, and i bit my lip. i couldn't do this today.

"maeve, you can't talk to her like that, she's still learning." matt told her, softly but very clearly as he sighed and gathered his things. "y/n, if you need anything, or just somebody to talk to, please reach out, okay?" he asked, and looked at me for any form of response.

"right, yeah. thanks, matt." i breathed, and he smiled at my response before stepping towards the exit.

i turned to maeve and bit my lip as she scrolled through her phone and applied pink lip gloss against her lips. she was stunning, and i was a bit envious of her long, blonde hair. i closed my eyes and let out a sigh, looking at my phone. i was a bit surprised to see some messages from who i had been dreading to see all day, and who i had hoped would have left with matt.

from: chris⭐ hey y/n, hope your shift goes well

i shuttered as i looked up at maeve. what if she was actively texting him? i turned to look around the store the best i can, and i saw chris pushing some carts inside.

damn, he was really still here.

i let out a breath as i began to straighten up around my department, seeing as it was a slow day and maeve was no help.

-

i sat in the breakroom as i stared at the wall. no music played in my ears, and nobody else sat in the room with me. i simply stared at the wall for my break. i sat and thought about all of the glances i had passed to chris, and how many times i caught him looking back. i also watched him and maeve talk quite often, which would cause my heart to clench each and every time. it didn't make sense to me. why did he pretend to care so much about me when he clearly had maeve?

"hi chris!" maeve smiled brightly and leaned against the counter to be closer to him, who was just trying to walk by and pick up a box of items.

"hey, maeve," he breathed, and she practically squealed at him, causing me to turn my head the other day and practically wince.

"whatcha got planned tonight? did you wanna go out?" maeve asked, which resulted in some silence and a deep breath.

"i'm busy tonight." he mumbled.

my back was still turned as i went through another box.

"i'm taking my fifteen, maeve. i'll be back." i breathed before swinging around on my heel and shoving past them both.

and that was why i was sitting against this worn down couch, staring at the wall. it made no sense to me. none of it.

after about thirteen minutes passed, i sighed and stood up to begin collecting my things and getting ready to head back out.

the door swung open.

"y/n, hey can we talk?" chris breathed, and i turned to the sudden sound of the door opening. since it was silent in the room, it scared me a bit more than i would have liked to admit.

"my fifteen is up, sorry." i breathed and attempted to walk past him.

i felt a hand against my own, before i turned to chris and bit my lip. facing him was really hard. my eyes welled up almost immediately, and chris picked up on it very quickly. worry rushed through his expression.

"after we close. please?" chris asked, carefully letting my arm go. i slowly nodded before i pulled away. i stood for a few moments, looking at him, biting my lip and then walking back towards the exit.

"thank fuck. about time. what were you even doing in there anyway?" maeve spat, and i turned to her. this really was not the time for her to speak to me that way, and in fact, it never was the time. "i had to deal with literally four people when you were gone. all by myself. can you do something for once and clean the place up?"

i bit my lip as i stared at her. part of me wanted to confront her, call her out and tell her that she was no help and incredibly lazy. another part of me wanted to beat her ass right then and there, but the other part of me knew that if i started any work drama, i could potentially get fired and i should keep my mouth shut.

i took in a deep breath.

"i'll get on it," i replied, moving to grab a broom.

-

11:30pm. only thirty more minutes before i had to talk with chris in the parking lot. and only thirty more minutes that i had to deal with maeve any longer.

"y/n, these don't go here. god, do you do anything right?" she muttered as she pulled out a roll of receipt paper, and i stopped what i was doing. i carefully stood up and let out a soft sigh.

"sorry, maeve. nobody told me where those go." i responded under my breath.

maeve was sitting against the counter now, looking at herself in her phone camera and once again applying lip gloss to her lips.

i watched her for a few moments before going to grab a box. it ripped, and collapsed directly into my foot and caused a loud bang.

"ow, fuck," i breathed, biting my lip as i looked down at my foot, and then at the mess i had created. stupid box.

"y/n, are you kidding me? this just adds to the list of things we have to clean up. why are you so clumsy?" she asked.

i had enough.

"can you shut the fuck up?" i spat, causing her to cover her mouth in shock. i scoffed. "all you fucking do is sit there on your goddamn phone. i have done everything today, and you left me the other day. you haven't trained me yet you expect me to know everything around here. why are you such a fucking bitch?" i raised my voice, now visibly shaking with anger. my face was red, and i felt tears brimming my eyes. "i've worked like three shifts here and you treat me like this? name one thing you've done today." i questioned, and she visibly stuttered.

"absolutely nothing," a voice rang as i looked over and saw chris standing there. "she's done nothing but text me all day."

i cringed slightly. nice way to top it off.

"but chrissy-" maeve started, to which chris immediately stopped her.

"i told you to stop calling me that, it's annoying." he muttered before he stepped towards me and began picking some of the things up that i had dropped. my face scrunched a bit in confusion as i tried to piece together what he had said.

maeve seemed to hurt, but she put on a stupid face and quickly yet sloppily grabbed her things before she stomped away to clock out.

i took in a deep breath and sighed, looking over at chris who had now finished picking everything up. "thanks.. for doing that. you didn't have to." i mumbled, looking to the side.

chris didn't respond. he stood up and looked at me, smiling like a little kid. "that was fucking awesome, didn't know you had it in you to talk like that to someone, especially on the clock?"

i smiled shyly and looked down before rubbing my eyes and chuckling slightly. "she was just getting on my nerves..."

"she does for everyone, y/n. i promise. it's okay." he breathed, and i looked at him with a soft nod. "is your foot okay?" he asked, and i shrugged.

"it's fine, i guess. hurts, but i'll live."

"i'll walk you home." chris responded, very quickly, as i looked at him and smiled softly.

"whatever you say."

-

the air was kind of heavy, if i were being honest. it was hard to even think about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

"y/n?"

i turned to chris as he called my name, and bit my lip. it was time to finally talk about everything.

"can you tell me what's up? why you left so suddenly last night, why you haven't answered my texts, what's wrong?" he questioned, as i simply walked beside him and let out a deep sigh.

"i just..." i took in a deep breath. i stopped walking and turned to chris. "when i moved here, i thought i had nobody. some people would be excited for a fresh start, but i dreaded every moment here. i met you, matt and nick, and realized that things may not be so bad here. especially when i'm with you," i whispered the last part, looking down at my feet.

chris had stopped walking as well, looking at me and nodding softly as he listened closely.

"after we had hung out, i truly thought that maybe i saw you as something more, and when we sat together at your place, i kind of knew from there that i for sure had something more than just the friendly thought of you." i smiled softly, and he nodded, knowing where i was going. "i like you a lot chris, i did from the moment we walked together to mcdonalds and the feelings i had for you, i thought were mutual. but then you got that text on your phone from maeve, and-"

"y/n," he breathed, stepping towards me.

i bit my lip and looked up at him, and he immediately shook his head.

"no." he almost laughed out, and i tilted my head. nothing was funny to me right now. "i don't know how she got me number. genuinely. that's reason one as to why i don't like her. reason two, she's an asshole. and reason three," he smiled softly at me as he gently brushed a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear.

with a soft lean forward and a slight tilt of the head, chris had pressed his lips to mine. i closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss, smiling softly against him. he smiled as well before carefully pulling away and moving his hands to carefully grasp mine.

"i like you."

i smiled softly and looked up at him. as we stood on the sidewalk and stared at each other, i bit my lip and shyly looked down before wrapping my arms tightly around him. "i'm sorry.." i whispered, and chris chuckled.

he wrapped his arms around me and gently rubbed my back, carefully swaying us both. he rested his head on top of mine.

"don't be sorry. you had every right to be confused and frustrated." he gently pulled away and looked at me before he carefully took my hand in his.

our fingers intertwined, as we began walking again.

"let's get you home."

HIIII HELLO THIS WAS A SHORT FANFIC BUT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIEKD ITTTTT IT'S MY FIRST THING ON TUMBLR !!!!

i am working on a matt fanfic rnnnn it'll be so awesome sauce, go read the teaser if you haven't already!!

taglist;;

@sweetbabydoe @orangeypepsi @sturniolosreads

[stadiumbleachers]

match and spark

firefighter!izogie x black!fem!reader

summary: izogie is serious about fire safety in every way that matters, but for her wife she doesn't mind a little spark

content: explicit language, tribbing, oral (Izogie receiving), fingering (izogie receiving), nipple sucking

note: thanks for 200 followers, I will be dropping a riri fic soon

word count: 2k

Clipping the last bit of thorns from the bundle of twenty-four roses, you sighed contentedly. The array of red and yellow roses were your last order before lunch, and you were grateful for the break. It was the week before valentine’s day and the signature bud was in high demand. 

“Thank you for coming, enjoy” you gave your ‘customer service’ smile as you handed over the bouquet. 

“Thank you” he nodded politely and made his way out

The bell above the door tinkled as he stepped out of the flower shop and you quickly followed his path to lock the front door and put up a ‘OUT FOR LUNCH’ sign in the glass. 

Pivoting on the heels of your Jordans, you took in the sight of the shop, stopping for the first time in hours to breathe in the earthy aroma around you. You walked along the displays, picking up stray petals or leaves that fell to the pristinely polished floor.

 A lavender bloom caught your eye . On the round table in the center of the room were lavender flowers, the exact type you held in your shaking hands as you walked down the aisle to the love of your life. Though that was nearly two years ago, the diamond ring she gave you that day shone brilliantly against your brown skin. 

While you were busy daydreaming, the harsh ring of the shop’s landline broke you from your reverie. 

You made your way over to the front desk and tucked your rope twists behind your ear to hold the phone to it. 

“The Bloom Room is closed for lunch but you can order anytime on our website-” you started before the person interrupted you

“I don’t think what I want is on the website” 

A smile took over your face at the rich sound of your wife’s voice

“Z, why are you calling on my work phone? I thought your shift wasn’t over until three”

Subconsciously, you bit your lip awaiting her response. No matter how long you were together, talking to Izogie made your chest erupt with warmth 

“I got relieved early so I’m here to take you to lunch”  she confessed to you

You crossed the small room to the side window that looked out on the parking lot and sure enough there was her car parked close enough that you knew she could see you.

“Hmmm, I don’t know I already made plans” you teased her, pursing your perfectly glossed lips

“Well…cancel them…please?” she pleaded, her voice sounding much more innocent than she really was. 

You couldn’t see her through the possibly illegal tint on her car but you just knew she was pouting with her thick brows pushed together

When you made no move for the door, she tried again

“Please baby? We’ll get your favorite lunch and you can control the music” 

“If you promise to keep it PG,” you giggled into the phone, “I have a customer coming in at two and I need to be back in time” 

“Pinky promise, love” she agreed, voice suspiciously sincere

............

Izogie took a familiar route to a clearing that overlooked a lake, bumping her head to partynextdoor playing from your phone through the AUX. In your lap you held the take out boxes from your favorite local Jamaican restaurant. Pulling into her usual spot, Izogie admired you while you scrolled on your phone for a podcast to listen to while you ate. 

You could feel her eyes burning into you

“What?” 

“You’re pretty” she said easily, as it if it were the most obvious thing in the world

“You’re pretty,” you told her leaning over the center console to kiss her softly. When you pulled back her lips were shinier than before, “Now let’s eat”

Once Izogie knew you were full and satisfied with your meal, she somehow convinced you to climb into the spacious back seats of her SUV, where she promptly broke her promise. 

You tried to be strong, really you did, but when you first slid into the passenger seat, she was wearing her fire department shirt with the sleeves cut off to expose her sculpted arms. That combined with the fresh trim around the sides of her head, was enough to crumble your resolve.

“You smell so good, princess” she rubbed her face into your neck, drawing in deep breaths while her hands caressed your waist under your shirt.

“Zo” you squirmed and playfully tried to push her away, while she kissed down your sensitive neck.

She mouthed at your collarbone, one agile hand coming up to cup you through your bra. Your nipple pebbled at the attention and you arched your back and whined, wanting more. Slowly, painstakingly so, Izogie lifted her mouth from its journey to your chest so she could look you in your eyes. 

“Want me to stop?” she asked, her hand still rubbing gently on the fullness of your breast

You shook your head. Who could be bothered with words at a time like this?

“Then stop whining. I’m gonna take care of you. You believe me, yeah?” 

The pulsing between your legs sure as hell did

“Mhmm” you managed. You fisted a hand in the front of her shirt and brought her lips crashing down to yours. Your teeth clanged together briefly before you found the right rhythm, your tongue lapping softly and persistently against hers. Lying back on the leather seats, you pulled her on top of, spreading your legs to give her space.

You panted for air when Izogie moved back to kissing down your chest. Her expert hand reached behind you to open your bra with one hand and you helped her throw it aside to reveal your nipples to her hungry gaze. 

Her warm tongue worked over one bud while the rough palm of her hand rolled the other, hot sparks of pleasure shot up your body and escaped through your voice as you moaned wantonly. 

Izogie pulled off with a wet pop to torment the other nipple and you made quick work of her own shirt. She kept going, sucking like a starved thing, drawing cries from your lips. 

“Ngh…I need…ride me baby” you tried to tell her, arching your back up for more and more

Her hooded eyes regarded you and she let your breast fall from her mouth, but what she said next had you laughing in pure shock

“I was on top last time, it’s your turn lazy ass” she patted the side of your clothed thighs and helped you into a sitting position 

“How about who gets naked first gets to lay down?” you proposed, your core still persistently wet at the sight of your wife topless

“Alright, bet” 

The firefighter cackled loudly at the sight of you both rushing to tear of you remaining clothes and you laughed at the absurdity of what you were about to do with a random true crime podcast playing in the background

Izogie won and she grinned at you like a Cheshire cat. She laid back with her hands behind her head while you took your time crawling on top of her. You peppered kisses down her toned stomach, stopping to dip your tongue into her belly button. She hissed and tensed up.

With a hand behind each knee you helped her spread her legs, exposing her deliciously wet cunt to you

“Oh babe, you’re all wet. Here let me clean you up” you feigned concern, swooping down to lap at her pussy while being extra careful to avoid that sensitive bundle of nerves

She ground her hips up, chasing your affection. You kept at it, persistently working her up before finally- rubbing slow circles round her clit. She groaned and arched her back even more. The air inside the vehicle was thick with the heady scent of her arousal, you wish you could bottle that scent. 

“Oh..oh..oh” she rasped beneath your wicked mouth as it worked her closer and closer to the edge. You sucked feverishly on her clit to put her out of her misery, and worked one finger into her tight heat. 

“Greedy little thing, isn’t it?” your voice was muffled but she heard you clearly enough as her walls clenched and she moaned even louder. 

“Shut up and fuck me” she panted, only half meaning it. You both knew she loved when you talked to her like this. You got right back to work and gave her another finger to fuck herself on. The languid thrusts of her hips became more sporadic as you stiffened your tongue and turned your head side to side giving her something hard to rub her perfect little clit unto. The slick of her arousal was all over your face, even in your nostrils with how eagerly you were eating her out. 

That only lasted for a minute because as soon as you felt her toppling dangerously towards the edge, you pulled out. She whined, bucking her core up to nothing in a brattish effort to get you to continue. 

“So you don’t want me to ride you?” you asked, running a finger up and down her quivering slit

“Mhmm” she grabbed your hips to pull you onto her, throwing you off balance which forced you to grab the headrest 

Somehow you managed to maneuver your limbs in the small space. You lifted one of Izogie’s legs to place it on one shoulder and it bent easily. You hooked your thigh over her other leg, slotting your cores together perfectly. 

The wetness and warmth of both your arousals wracked viciously through every nerve ending in your body. You were hungry for release, on fire with it

“You love my pussy on you, huh?” you panted. From this angle you admired the way your slightly different shades of melanin complimented each other

“I love it baby,” she grabbed two handfuls of your ass as you grinded down on her, chasing the sweet sensation, “whose is it?” 

You didn’t answer

A hand came down on your ass in a stinging slap that had your hips stuttering. You whimpered pathetically. The pain only egging you on . You continue rolling your hips to the beat of the blood rushing in your ears, or perhaps the sound of your wife gasping from her own pleasure

“Answer me” Izogie demanded, she reached her hands up to pinch and twist at your nipples. Then sooth them with the pads of her thumbs

Her head was thrown back and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her toes curled from their position beside your head. She was almost there. Your hips burned from being up here so long but you would never give her the satisfaction of knowing that

“I-” your vision was getting blurry, the air thick with the scent of sex in the car. The car rocked gently side to side in time with your thrusts

You opened your mouth to speak again and Izogie took two naughty fingers to slip between you and pinch your already over stimulated clit

“Th-This is your pussy, I won’t give your shit away, it’s yours, oh fuck, fuck!” you babbled away as your breasts bounced with each sporadic bounce as you rode her to your climax

“Ah-” Izogie’s mouth hung open as her release hit her like a train. Her leg fell limp against you and her back relaxed into the seat for the first time since you started touching her. Her chest pumped up and down identically to yours as you both tried to catch your breath. 

Smiling like an idiot you lay down on top of her, though your knee groaned at you for keeping it locked in that position for so long.

With your head on her chest, Izogie stroked your hair with a tenderness she didn’t use for your ass which still tingled.

“My love”

“Yeah?” your mumbled into her neck

“I think I may or may not have made you late…"

[dilf-rights-activist]

Another Life: part 1

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gender neutral reader

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the founder and CEO of one of the largest tech companies in the world. All the money in the world can’t buy love, something that Miguel so desperately needs, and the one thing that he could never afford. Or, the one where Miguel gets dumped by his freeloader partner and can only find solace in you, a down on your luck student with sweet drinks and an even sweeter smile.

Word count: 2k

Content: eventual sugar daddy AU, slow burn, coffee shop/bars, no use of (y/n), descriptions of financial hardship, Miguel is tired and is going through a break up (aw)

AO3 part 2 part 3 part 4

Miguel sighed as he watched the car of yet another failed relationship leave his property. He took a moment to wish his former lover well before closing the door, mechanical lock whirring quietly as it slid into place. The large man scrubbed a hand over his face before looking at the large boxes that littered his home, there was still a lot of unpacking to be done. He recently moved to a lavish penthouse in the Upper East Side to be closer to his office. He decided to indulge himself by going on a couple of dates with a number of (whom he formerly thought were) nice people. He thought it would have been different after his move, but every relationship he entered ended the exact same way. Being the CEO of a prolific tech company came with a number of risks, but it also came with a lot of money.

He sighed. A lot of money.

It was the same thing time after time, Miguel would meet an amazing person and spoil them rotten with anything they wanted; clothes, jewels, food, you name it. One week turned into two, into three, into months, enraptured in an unrequited embrace, only for him to find out that they were only using him for his wealth. He allowed himself to be manipulated by the charming smiles and whispers of his lovers, wanting so badly to believe that they deserved everything in the world. Desperate for anything to assuage the dark void that was slowly burrowing its way into his chest.

He needed a drink.

---

A sigh escaped your lips as you approached the end of your shift. It had been busy today at the bar; between running around serving tables and making drinks at the bar you barely had time to think. You were bussing one of the last remaining tables, figuring you’d get an early start on cleaning for the night. You picked up an empty glass, smiling to yourself; there were only 30 minutes left until closing, no customers left, and you could already hear your bed calling your name. You hummed softly, nothing could spoil your mood now.

“Hello. Table for one, please.” a quiet man said as he walked into the bar.

The glass in your hand almost shattered with the sheer force of your frustration alone.

A tall brunette man shuffled through the door of your workplace, ducking slightly as he did so. His broad frame filled out the entryway in its entirety, waiting politely. He glanced around the dim space, just now starting to notice the sheer lack of patrons and music.

“Shit, are you closed? I can go somewhere else,”

You checked your watch, 29 minutes to go.

Goddamnit.

“No, please. Come in,” You said in your best customer service voice, hoping you didn’t sound as tired as you felt. You were half hoping that the man would reject your invitation and walk out the door, never to be seen again.

He did not.

The man nodded and slowly made his way to sit at the bar,the poor stool squeaked dangerously under his weight.

“What can I get started for you, sir?” you wore an easy smile, looking to get this guy out as soon as possible.

He nodded as he settled into his seat. “What would you recommend?”

“That depends, how much are you hurting?” You took a brief moment to look at the brunette before glossing over the wide array of bottles you kept behind the bar.

“I’m not-“

“You walked in to drink at a random bar at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday. Men like you don’t do that unless they’re hurting.” You set down a bottle of whiskey onto the bar and threw him a crooked smile.

Large shoulders slumped as the man grimaced. “That obvious?”

“Just a little,” You held a glass up to the light to inspect it for spots before putting it on a napkin in front of the brunette before you. You uncapped the whiskey with ease and poured the amber liquid into the crystal glass, making sure to give the man a little extra for his troubles. “Wanna talk about it?” you asked, still working on his drink.

He chuckled softly, “What’s to tell? I just got dumped.”

You winced as you dropped a couple of ice cubes into his glass. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”

He held up a large hand. “Don’t be. It would have never worked out anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” you raised an eyebrow while peeling an orange “Why’s that?”

“That’s just how it is with me.” he said softly. You stopped working to look at him properly. His eyes were obscured by the shadows cast by the harsh contours of his face, but even in the dim light of the bar you could tell that they were a deep shade of crimson. His eyes held so much sadness in them, seeming to be permanently downcast.

Miguel was never one to talk about his issues, much less to a stranger, but tonight was different. He would allow himself to wallow just this once, to indulge in the cliché that is the sweet pity of a kind bartender.

“Y’know how it is. Get someone, and they’re really great. Until they aren’t.” he gave a half hearted laugh. “People just use me for...entertainment.”

You looked up at him, in awe at just how small the man managed to look at that moment. You garnished his drink with a curled orange peel and set it down on the bar. “Well, mister…”

“O’Hara.” he said. “Miguel O’Hara.”

“Well, Mister O’Hara, if I may be so bold. Every person who’s ever used you is an absolute shit bag and they don’t deserve your kindness. You’re on your way to bigger and better things and they’ll be sorry.” you smiled as you pushed his drink forward. “Old Fashioned.”

Miguel’s eyes fell from your smiling face to the golden drink in front of him. He didn’t typically drink an Old Fashioned, always thought they were too sweet.

“Thanks.” he smiled at you, the glass looked comically small in his large hands as he gingerly took a sip. Thick brows raised and he hummed softly, pleasantly surprised by the complexity of the complimenting flavors.

“Not bad.” He murmured into his glass before gently rolling it in between his palms. “What’s your name?”

“You’re gonna have to take me out if you wanna find that out, big guy.” You winked at him and he abruptly stopped fiddling with his glass, eyes widening comically.

“I-”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed at his reaction and told him your name. He went silent at the sound of it and repeated it to himself.

“What a nice name.” Miguel smiled while working on his drink.

“Thanks, it’s the only one I got.” you flashed him a grin and leaned on the bar. You were actually starting to enjoy his company, it’s a shame that he’d have to leave in a couple of minutes.

Before long Miguel finished his drink and thanked you for your service. He left a generous tip before saying one last goodbye over his shoulder. You waved him off before locking the door behind him, paying little mind to the strange feeling in your chest.

---

You flinched as your alarm clock rang on your bedside table. You turned your stiff neck to squint at the time; 5:45 am, you couldn't afford to press snooze again. You sighed heavily before turning the alarm off, turning to stare up at your cracking ceiling. Did you really need this job? Really and truly? What if you could just get 5 more minutes of sleep…

You glance at the clock again. 5:47. Now you really couldn't afford to stay in bed. You swung your legs over the side of the mattress, bristling slightly when your socked feet touched the cold ground. You went to the bathroom and took a brief moment to observe your reflection in the mirror, noting how the dark circles under your eyes made you look like a deranged racoon. Good. You thought, squeezing out some toothpaste. Maybe customers will be too scared to bother me today. After getting dressed you jogged down the stairs to get to your second job, a quaint cafe nestled in New York City’s East Village. You braced yourself during your commute, you would be facing the morning rush of caffeine starved corporate zombies that came in every weekday. You sighed, blowing air into your cold hands to warm them up a little.

“Hopefully they'll tip a little more this time” you thought wistfully as you walked into the subway station.

---

You let yourself in through the alleyway entrance of the cafe, sighing as you smelled baking bread.

“You’re late!” your boss half yelled from behind the counter. You shot him a wry smile and shrugged as you clocked in.

“Only by-” you glanced at your phone, “ten minutes!” you winced, maybe you should have jogged those last couple of blocks.

Peter B. Parker pouted at you and leaned against the clear dessert display case. “Whatever! Just help me prep, I have a feeling the rush is gonna be real bad.” You hanged your coat in the back hallway and winced, you really did feel bad about being late. Peter ran the cafe with his Aunt May, a fierce, kind woman who never hesitated to give you free desserts whenever you saw her.

You tore open a bag of coffee beans and grimaced, it was midterm season at the local universities, which meant that sleep deprived student after sleep deprived student would come in to get their hourly dose of caffeine. You bit your lip nervously as you thought about that huge essay you had yet to start for your own classes. You poured the beans into the espresso machine, half mindedly listening to the sounds as they filled up the small container.

You couldn’t go to school if you didn’t work, and you couldn’t work if you had to study! You were pulled out of your thoughts as you realized that you were now spilling coffee beans all over the bar. You swore quietly, working frantically to fix your mistake.

“You okay?” Peter asked from where he was stuffing napkins into a dispenser. You carefully scooped the remaining coffee beans into your hand and threw them away in a nearby compost bin.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Nice! Look alive, sunshine! We’re opening in 10.”

---

Miguel’s large hand rubbed at his tired eyes on his morning commute to the temporary office he’d be inhabiting until the construction on his new building was finished. He swallowed and looked at his phone, blinking at the time.

“6:30?” he muttered to himself, slowing his brisk walk to a slow stride. He didn't have to be at the office for another thirty minutes. Miguel adjusted the scarf on his neck as a movement caught his eye, he turned his head to see a tired looking man flip over a sign in the window of a nearby building to read “OPEN” in cute cursive letters. They made brief eye contact and the man in the window smiled and waved at him.

Miguel smiled and raised a hand in greeting, dark eyes looking up to read Cafe May above the window. Coffee, huh? He smiled lightly to himself, he supposed he could grab a couple of drinks for him and his employees, he did have the time to spare after all.

Miguel was just about to make a detour into the cute coffee shop he had discovered before his phone rang obnoxiously in his hand. Furrowing his brows, he looked down at the caller ID: Jessica Drew.

Shit.

Jessica wouldn’t call him if she didn’t have a reason for it. Miguel closed his eyes and sighed, he just wanted a quiet morning with coffee! Clearing his throat, he braced himself as he accepted the call.

“Hi, Jess.”

“Good morning, Miguel. Where are you?”

The brunette grimaced, right to the point. “East Village. Was there something you needed?” He heard the ruffling of papers and a small hum on the other line.

“Yeah. Tony Stark wants to hop on a video call within the hour to update you on the research he’s been running for the Arc Reactor.”

Large shoulders slumped as Miguel let out a small sigh. “Within the hour, huh?” He glanced at the warm cafe forlornly before making his way down the street towards the office.

“I’m on my way.”

Notes: Please do not talk to me about NYC geography, i looked at a map and nothing is consistent in my story lmao. I know Miguel is pretty OOC in this. He (at least in atsv) is not this kind, patient, or gentle. But he is sad! And that’s what they both have in common :) I think he was a geneticist in the comics, so he’d more than likely be running a lab or a bio tech company but…hey. I’ve released the second chapter to this story, but am unsure if I will continue, I guess it depends on how these first two parts are received. Thank you for reading, please lemme know what you think (if you want)

[custom-packaging-boxes-uk]

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[customboxespk]

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[thinkink-packaging]

Lip Gloss Packaging In Pennsylvania - How Can You Be a Part Of Customization?

Lip Gloss Packaging In Pennsylvania – How Can You Be a Part Of Customization?

This fulfillment rouses the clients to buy beauty care products from that brand a large portion of the time. With this nature, the case achieves magnificent pressure, strength, and squash opposition. The explanation is that lip gleam is the most delicate item. Lip gleam needs packaging that effectively changes all states of lip shine items. Brands expect that they need packaging boxes that are…

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[buckymorelikefuckme]

i ♡ caulk

inspired by a tweet i saw ages ago and have since lost rip.

steve rogers x bimbo reader

words: 2.3k

a/n: there is definitely an overuse of italics in this so i apologize in advance lol. any and all mistakes are my own! header made by me, and yes, graphic design is my passion, thanks for asking :') pls leave some feedback or come chat in my inbox!! ♡

part 2 ❀

The sound of high heels clacking against the concrete floor of the hardware store is more than a little unusual. Steve almost doesn’t register it at first, thinking maybe it’s part of the music playing overhead, but when the song changes and he still hears it, he glances up with a frown. He certainly isn’t expecting the sight that greets him.

The heels make perfect sense now. Steve’s eyes trail up from sparkly pink toenails showcased in strappy heels to, somehow, an even pinker flared mini skirt that is doing a fantastic job of showing off your legs, and a cropped fitted tee that reads MILF IN TRAINING across the front in, you guessed it, pink glittery letters. Everything about you is just… pink.

He doesn’t want to admit it aloud, let alone think it, because he tries not to judge based on appearance, but you look a little lost. Your doe-eyed gaze flits from one end of the store to the other, glossed lips pursed in thought.

Steve doesn’t mean to stare, honest, it’s just that you’re so dainty and bright in a way this dull, musty smelling hardware store isn’t. He doesn’t think he’s seen eyelashes that long before and he briefly wonders if they’re real. The tint to your cheeks definitely isn’t, but he thinks it's pretty regardless.

He shakes his head to clear his thoughts; that’s not important. What is important is that he does his actual job and helps a customer who needs it.

He wipes his suddenly sweaty palms on his ugly, orange work apron and is about to make his way over to you, but you spot him before he can. A smile spreads across your shiny lips and you quickly walk to where Steve’s been restocking boxes of nails, your perfectly styled hair bouncing with each step. Or, well, he was restocking the nails, until he caught sight of you.

“Hi,” you say in a relieved tone. He opens his mouth to say hello in return, but you continue before he gets a chance. “Could you please show me your caulk?”

Steve chokes on nothing, a startled cough wheezing out of him. “I-I’m sorry, what? My what?”

You tilt your head curiously, brows pinching slightly in a frown. “Your caulk? You know, the like, long thingy with the sticky, white stuff inside? Gets hard as it dries…?”

The hand gestures you’re using do not help the heat from rushing to Steve’s cheeks or his blood pressure that is suddenly skyrocketing.

“I… Ma’am, I-I don’t think—” he starts sputtering until you cut him off again.

“I really need it,” you say, almost whining, cocking your hip as you begin to explain, “because, like—okay, so, my apartment is nice, right? I totally managed to snag one of the better ones, and my friend said that I wouldn’t be able to because it’s, like, impossible to get a good one in the building I’m in, but once I spoke to the landlord he was super sweet and let me choose whichever one I wanted. Isn’t that, like, so cute? But anyway, it could definitely be nicer, especially after I noticed that the caulking around the bathtub needs some serious retouching, so, like, that’s why I’m here.”

Steve blinks a couple times to process the rapid pace of sentences thrown at him, and when it finally registers, he nearly smacks his own forehead.

“Oh!” Relief floods him so quickly he nearly collapses. “Caulk, you need caulk.” He probably over enunciates the word, but Jesus Christ. “Wow, okay, that… that makes much more sense,” he says, shoulders relaxing as he lets out a sigh.

“What did you think I meant?” you ask in confusion.

His cheeks flush anew as he clears his throat. “Uh, nothing, it’s nothing. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the—the caulk.”

“Thank you so much,” you gush, smiling widely.

He checks that you’re still following probably too many times, considering the click-clacking of your heels is prominent behind him, but you only grin happily when you see him looking. He takes note of the stares from other men, even some women, and is curious if you notice them, too, or if you just don’t care. You certainly carry yourself with the utmost confidence, your head held high and shoulders set in a gentle, relaxed slope. Steve admires it and maybe even envies it a little.

Which isn’t to say that he lacks confidence. He just sometimes still feels like that scrawny kid he used to be.

He almost walks past the right section, having let his mind wander, but he’s quick to direct his feet to the shelves that hold what you’re searching for.

“Is there a specific brand you’re wanting, or…?” he trails off, cocking an eyebrow curiously.

“Whichever one is the best,” you say sweetly.

Steve grabs the brand he personally thinks is better than the others and hands it over with a polite smile.

“Do you need a caulk gun, too?” he asks.

You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, no, I have a pink one at home.”

Somehow, that doesn’t surprise Steve in the slightest, but all he says is, “Great! Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

You get a twinkle in your eyes, your smile turning playful at the corners of your lips. It makes him squirm a little in a way he’s not entirely sure he hates, like the anticipation of your reply could make or break him, and he finds that he wouldn’t mind staying in your presence a little longer. Your response, though, gets cut off by a random man behind you.

“I could do a better job helpin’ you out, baby,” he says suggestively, not even attempting to hide his lust as he leers at you.

You spin on your heel in a flash, hair swishing around your shoulders and sending a rather pleasant waft of what’s either your shampoo or perfume in Steve’s direction. The short skirt you're wearing fans out with your spin as well, riding up almost dangerously high. Your grin is now sharp, edgy, and your eyes are piercing in a way they haven’t been in the brief moments Steve has been around you, and he takes a cautious step back.

“First of all, worry about helping yourself with that receding hairline you’re sporting, big guy. Second of all, we weren’t talking to you, so you should mind your business. And lastly, if you ever speak to me again I’ll have this nice man beside me show me where the chainsaws are and I’ll chop off your fucking dick. M’kay?”

The man scoffs. “Bitch,” he grumbles under his breath.

Steve frowns and is about to tell him off for calling a lady a bitch, but you giggle and he stops in surprise.

“Takes one to know one, baby.” Your tone is mocking yet deceptively sweet as you give him an obvious once over. “I can see that ugly silver band on your left ring finger,” you note with a cute wrinkle of your nose, “so why don’t you get the rest of the shit on your honey-do list and head home to your, undoubtedly, extremely unsatisfied wife and leave other women alone.”

A snort of laughter sneaks out of Steve before he can stop it. The man, now red in the face, huffs before stomping away, wisely choosing not to say anything else.

“Tell her to call me if she ever needs a girl’s day!” you sing-song to his retreating back, smiling in satisfaction when his shoulders hunch higher and his pace picks up.

Steve is biting back his own smile, but his inner old man shoves his way to the forefront of his mind and demands to offer unsolicited advice.

“You know, you ought to be careful,” he advises. “Some guys won’t just walk away like that.”

You seem both amused and touched by his concern. “I can take care of myself,” you assure, flicking your hair, adding, “Plus, I have, like, a gazillion self defense keychains.”

You reach into your purse and pull them out, each one of them pink, sparkly, or leopard print, clinking noisily against each other. You pick out a specific one that looks like a castle, putting your fingers into the holes and holding it up for Steve to see.

“This one is like, super stabby,” you explain.

“The tips definitely look sharp,” he concedes, taking note of all the other defenses held together in your small hand.

Part of him wonders if you’ve ever used any of them, but a larger part of him sincerely hopes you haven’t. He clears his throat.

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

He pastes on a polite smile and takes one last look at you, sighing wistfully internally, then heads back to finishing restocking boxes of nails. He’s hoping the monotony of the repetitive task will bring him back down to earth after such an interesting altercation.

You’re certainly a bundle of contradictions. Your appearance is all pink and sparkles and ruffles galore. Anyone giving you a passing glance would think like Steve did at first.

I doubt there’s much going on in that pretty, little head.

Of course, Steve feels guilty now. He should know better—not only because his Momma raised him right, but because people also make assumptions about him and his appearance too. Over six feet tall, broad shoulders, big muscles… He’s definitely had to deal with his share of rude people. However, he doubts any of his encounters hold a candle to yours.

He sighs to himself as he grabs the last of the boxes and places them neatly on the shelf. If he’d been braver, he would have asked you out. You’re very beautiful; kind of like a fairy or a princess, or… something. Definitely something like that. Damn. He really screwed the pooch on this one.

“Excuse me?”

Steve stills, heart picking up pace as he turns to see you smiling up at him. You’ve got a plastic bag with the store’s tacky logo on it resting in the crook of your elbow with your purchase inside.

“Yes?” he croaks. He coughs lightly and hopes his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Did you need something else?”

You cock your hip again, twirling some of your hair around your finger, looking at him through your lashes.

“Yes,” you pout. “I was wondering if you knew where I could find this guy.” Steve’s stomach drops to his toes. “He’s got these like, stupidly pretty blue eyes, a very attractive beard, sandy blonde hair I can’t wait to sink my fingers into, and he’s about this tall.” You bite your lip as you step closer and hold your hand up, measuring Steve’s height with it. He gets another whiff of that tantalizing scent coming off of you and it kicks his heart right back into overdrive.

“What… What did you need him for exactly?” he asks carefully.

You drop your hand as you hum in thought. “Well, I thought we’d start with a date, but I’m open to almost anything,” you say, your smile turning sly.

“Oh,” he says faintly. “I, uh. I think he’d be okay with that.”

You giggle and fuck, he wants to hear that again.

“Good,” you reply as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Just for clarification’s sake,” Steve rushes out, “we’re talking about me, right?”

You let out more giggles (oh god) and cover your mouth with your tiny hand and Steve melts. He feels his own lips stretching into a grin, chest fluttering.

“Of course, you silly billy.” You’re still smiling as you reach into your purse, rummaging around and extracting a pen with feathers on the end of it and a tiny, glittery notebook. You scribble something down and rip the piece of paper out. “Call me?” you ask as you hand it over.

“Absolutely,” he replies, not believing his luck, staring at the numbers on the paper.

You reach up to tap on his name tag. “Oh, and Steve?”

His eyes are now glued to where your pink nails have trailed down to teasingly swipe back and forth on his pec. He’s pretty sure he mumbles something back to show he’s listening, but who knows, really. You lean in even closer, pressing up on your tip-toes.

“You can treat me like a lady and still fuck me on the first date,” you whisper, your warm breath fanning out across his ear and sending a shiver down his spine. When you pull back to meet his unfocused gaze, you’re smirking. “M’kay?”

He swallows thickly. “‘Kay,” he replies.

You tilt your head and stare at different parts of his face, biting your lip. Steve lets you, terrified to move, otherwise you might say gotcha! and take off. You sigh dreamily and give him a glossy kiss on the cheek. Then you boop him on the nose and step back.

“Ugh, you’re so cute. This is gonna be like, so much fun. I can tell.” He nods dumbly in agreement. “Don’t forget to call me, okay? I’ll be really, really sad if you don’t.”

With a beaming grin and wave, you spin on your heels and sashay away.

“Bye,” he says to the fading sound of your clacking heels, feeling bowled over and utterly lost, but knowing he’d be a fucking idiot to not call you.

With that thought in mind, he digs his phone out of his pocket, never mind the fact that he’s still on the clock and is technically not supposed to have his phone out, and dials your number. He double checks (and triple checks) he’s put it in right, then hits the call button. You answer on the third ring.

“Hello?”

Steve is pretty sure he can hear how you’re smiling smugly to yourself.

“So… Are you free tonight?”

“For you? I’m free whenever, handsome.”

[pbelfz]

Two to One | 8 |

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Midoriya Chapter Title: First Touch Chapter 7 | Chapter 9 Story Masterlist Summary: You are a simple college girl working at a cheap, back alley café! The top heroes, Deku and Ground Zero, visit your work in hopes of ordering coffee, but they pick something else up instead. You begin an interesting relationship with the pair, while slowly becoming aware of certain underhanded tactics they are using. Idolization isn't always that bad... Right?

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, MANIPULATION, SLIGHT NSFW

The throuple continued their routine dinners and sleepovers. Becoming more considerate of (Y/n)’s schedule was a hurdle for both men, but they were trying. Moving in together wasn’t brought up again, perhaps out of courtesy of (Y/n)’s hesitance.

Katsuki, however, found himself offering to pay for her things more frequently, and very soon after, Izuku followed. Part of them enjoyed providing for someone, especially Katsuki, though he’d never admit it. He and (Y/n) always struggled to connect, and paying for a textbook for school, a restock in feminine products, or a dress she found online made him feel closer to her. (Y/n) never asked for either of their financial assistance, though, and she became wary of what she brought up to them in passing conversation. She mentioned her feet hurting after going for a run in her old gym shoes? Izuku already ordered a brand new, expensive pair of sneakers, and they’ll be here tomorrow morning. On the phone with Katsuki, telling him about how she’s only eaten gummy bears and iced coffee all day? He’s ordering a surplus of groceries to her apartment with a furrowed brow and her still on speaker.

It was subtle at first: takeout here, a coffee there. Nothing unusual. (Y/n) didn’t ask why they began gift-giving, but she assumed they were trying to “lighten her load” after learning of her financial situation. If she lingered on their gestures, it might’ve seemed as if they thought she couldn’t handle herself on her salary. She can only assume their efforts grew because she never told them to stop.

“Where the hell did you get those?” Hana gaped, eyeing (Y/n)’s new sneakers. (Y/n) tilted her foot, showing off to her friend.

“Jealous?” She giggled, sarcastic.

“Yes?” Hana snorted, leaning forward on the counter, a curl bouncing out from under her work cap. “I don’t remember the last time I bought new shoes.”

(Y/n) agreed reluctantly with a nod. Katsuki and Izuku’s gifts were typically practical, but these sneakers were the first to break the boundaries placed. They were a surprise, but upon finding them when she checked her P.O. box on her route to class that morning, she only inhaled with a tight lip. Izuku didn’t really respond when she sent him thanks and told him he didn’t have to buy this; he just glossed over her text and asked her to avoid certain roads when she went for a jog, out of precaution of villain activity. She couldn’t help the pit in her gut, telling her she was becoming a burden to the two heroes.

“You still coming to Asuka’s party tomorrow?” Hana asked slightly quieter, so the single customer working on their laptop in the café’s corner couldn’t hear her over the smooth jazz. (Y/n) sighed inwardly, going to get a new towel to clean the steamer. She, Izuku, and Katsuki intrinsically scheduled their sleepovers now, and Friday became a “date night” for the three of them.

“I… actually had plans already.”

Hana whipped around. “So, you are seeing someone–!” She accused quietly with a sly grin. (Y/n) tried to hide her smile by clenching her jaw, but her giggles burst through, joining Hana’s giddiness.

“Deku’s got a mission in Kyoto. ‘s just us tonight,” Katsuki grumbled as soon as he stepped out of his shoes.

(Y/n) clutched her bags as she followed in behind him. He couldn’t have mentioned that on the drive over here?

“Is he after that ‘mutant fucker’?” (Y/n) quoted bitterly, taking her own shoes off and setting her bags down. Katsuki hummed.

The house was so much quieter without Izuku to fill the gap between (Y/n) and Katsuki with his overflowing affection. Katsuki didn’t even glance back at her as he bounded up the stairs, to which (Y/n) made a face at.

“Don’t you want to do anything? It’s…,” she watched Katsuki trudge to the bedroom, noticing how exhausted his form looked for the first time that night, “date night.” She heard him groan in reply, a bit muffled because of his distance.

“Too fuckin’ tired.”

(Y/n) heard a creak along with a ploof and could only assume Katsuki had just flopped down onto the bed. She glanced around the downstairs area before following him upstairs, uncomfortable with how empty a suburban house could become.

Katsuki lay face down on his and Izuku’s shared bed, not even bothering to pull the blankets over him. (Y/n) stepped closer, peeking to see if he was asleep. His eyes were closed, and it would be no surprise if he had already dozed off. She used this time to undress and change into her pajamas.

When (Y/n) pressed her knee into the cushy mattress, Katsuki’s body shifted with her weight. He groaned, slightly irritated, and turned over, bumping into (Y/n) while she climbed onto the bed. He hissed in pain, wincing as he reached behind him to rub his lower back.

(Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, not wanting to distress him further.

“… You okay?”

Katsuki sighed and readjusted, scooting away from her. “’m fine.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, doubt forming between her brow. “Is your back alright?”

Katsuki didn’t answer right away, staring at the far-off wall. “Got beat up pretty good,” was all he offered. His pride was too high to give her any more details.

(Y/n) blinked, glancing over his form. She couldn’t see any injuries with the sweatshirt and sweatpants he wore.

“Just your back?”

Katsuki hummed.

“Can I take a look?”

He didn’t move at first, as he scowled at the wall, eyelids heavy. He honestly just wanted to sleep. (Y/n) waited, but eventually, she took his silence for rejection and continued to crawl into the bed.

“Fine,” he eventually grumbled.

(Y/n) paused, holding the blankets with one hand as she glanced over at him, her stomach fluttering. “Oh. Okay.”

Katsuki sat up, reaching behind himself to pull his sweatshirt over his head. (Y/n)’s eyes widened, but she quickly collected her shock. He’s acquired a few cuts and scratches every now and then since they’ve been together, but these bruises were much more than she’s ever seen. Purple and blue splotches littered his skin, from his upper left shoulder to his entire lower back.

“Katsuki,” (Y/n) breathed, reaching out towards him, “What happened?” Katsuki huffed through his nose.

“Already told you. Vil–,” he felt (Y/n)’s fingers graze over his skin, “Ow! Fuck!” He jolted away from her touch. “Don’t touch me!”

(Y/n) jumped at his volume, pulling her hand away quickly. “Sorry! I’m sorry.” She leaned forward, examining the bruises with a curious eye.

“Are they… burns?” Upon closer inspection, the “bruises” appeared to almost blister.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but (Y/n) couldn’t see besides anything besides his huffy form. “Don’t know. Haven’t looked. Just fuckin’ hurts,” he grunted like a caveman.

“Do you have any cream or anything?”

“Hah?” Katsuki looked over his shoulder at her.

“For your back?” (Y/n)’s brow scrunched, wondering why he made everything so difficult. “If you don’t want me to help, that’s fine, too.”

Katsuki’s eyes shifted away, though he kept his chin resting on his shoulder. “You did tell me not to touch you,” (Y/n) remarked with a tone, glancing down at her fingers playing with the sheets underneath her. Katsuki clicked his tongue, the bridge of his nose wrinkling as he glared.

“Shut the fuck up. I was thinkin’ about it, but now you’re just bein’ fuckin’ petty,” he flopped back down onto his side, facing away from (Y/n). (Y/n) frowned as she looked at the hero as he rested above the blankets. Silently, after a few moments, she resumed crawling back under the covers and settled into the warmth of the sheets, facing the opposite way.

Without Izuku there, Katsuki and (Y/n) seemed to almost keep as far away from each other as possible. This was the first night they went to sleep together without their third partner, and while they both were accustomed to Katsuki being entangled with (Y/n) come morning, falling asleep while missing a link was difficult.

Katsuki almost refused to cuddle without his other partner around, and even then, (Y/n) felt him restrain himself. (Y/n) had no knowledge of the times his arms swallowed her up when she rested soundly against him, or the times he’d carry her to bed, or when he and Izuku coddled her before they both fell asleep; it was because during those times, she’d be asleep.

(Y/n) curled closer into the blankets, clinging to the minimum amount of warmth the linen provided. It was nothing compared to the heat of flesh, but it’ll suffice for the night. She wondered if–!

Katsuki suddenly shot up. “God, fuck! Fine! Go get the damn cream!”

(Y/n) jumped, shocked fully awake. She quickly looked at Katsuki, who refused to meet her eye as he swung his legs over the side of the .

“Wh–?”

“Aloe vera gel and arnica cream under the bathroom sink,” Katsuki uttered, pulling his sweatshirt over his head once more. (Y/n) could only stare at him, frozen once more by the severity of Katsuki’s back. Perhaps it wasn’t that bad, but to see a Pro Hero injured at all shocked her. Katsuki glanced over his shoulder and made a face, as if to tell her to hurry up. (Y/n) hopped off the bed and scurried to the master bathroom.

The groan Katsuki emitted rumbled throughout his shoulders and beneath (Y/n)’s fingers.

He relaxed his neck, as his eyes closed upon feeling (Y/n)’s cooled fingertips from the gel glaze over his muscles. (Y/n) sat on her knees behind him, spreading the mixed creams across his skin. She’d never touched Katsuki like this before, anticipation fluttering in her stomach as she felt just how heated his body was. Is he always this warm? She couldn’t believe Ground Zero was letting her touch him like this… (Y/n) hoped he didn’t feel the slight tremble in her touch. She’s been rubbing this spot on his shoulder for a while…

(Y/n) swallowed.

She needs to calm down.

Katsuki sighed. “You’re good with your hands.”

(Y/n) quietly giggled, ignoring the way her lower stomach ached.

She rubbed further up his shoulders. “Can you, um, move your…?” She asked softly. Katsuki understood, and easily pulled his sweatshirt completely off of his head, now fully exposing himself. (Y/n) shifted on the bed slightly. Her glossy hands smoothed up his bare back, kneading the cream into his injuries. She felt Katsuki tense underneath her, and he winced, hissing. (Y/n) drew back almost too eagerly; she couldn’t help but feel as if she were overstepping a boundary. Was it because Izuku wasn’t here? In the greedier abscess of her mind, though, she wanted to indulge in his body as much as she could. She wasn’t sure if she’s even blinked once this entire time.

Katsuki’s head whipped around as soon as he felt her hands leave him, a scowl ever-present. (Y/n) stared back at him with wild eyes, certain he was about to scold her for rubbing too roughly.

“Keep going. Why’d you stop?” He catechized. (Y/n) was just as quick to resume upon hearing his instruction.

“Sorry…,” she apologized. “I thought I hurt you,” her voice was quiet as she spread the cream on his lower back.

Katsuki spat out a crude laugh. “Somethin’ as small as you can’t hurt me.”

(Y/n) would’ve refuted him, but she became entranced in her work, and Katsuki couldn’t complain. With the creams layered onto his burns, she was hesitant to touch him anymore; however, the little sighs Katsuki breathed when (Y/n)’s palms smoothed up the back of his neck and back down again, kneading gel into his skin, gave her the confidence she needed to continue. She grew bolder, testing the waters as her hands traveled lower onto his shoulders. Katsuki’s posture tightened, and he pulled a face. (Y/n) glanced at the back of his head, her thumbs gently working in circles.

“You’ve got a lot of knots,” she murmured. Katsuki hummed, straightening.

“Go a little lower.”

(Y/n)’s insides jumped. She did as she was told, her fingers moving to the center of his back, just under his shoulder blades. The curve of his muscles flowed beneath her hands, and she realized then just how much bigger – and stronger ­– he was than her. Intimidation filled her blood, but she continued her ministrations. Katsuki’s breath flowed from him easier this time; she could feel it. She wondered if she should converse with him or if she preferred the silence.

With each knead of her palms into Katsuki’s tense muscles, his body slowly relaxed. Just as (Y/n) was getting comfortable in her massage technique, Katsuki spoke up.

“Stop. Gonna fall asleep.”

(Y/n) obeyed. Katsuki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as he dragged a hand down his face. He then stood, stretching and turning to face her, and (Y/n) watched him, glancing sneakily at the happy trail that traveled from his navel.

“You wanna get a drink or somethin’?”

Sharing a glass of wine with Ground Zero on a suburban home’s living room couch might be the success (Y/n)’s been looking for. At least, that’s what the two glasses she’s already had told her.

“So, you like your work, then?” Katsuki muttered, glancing to the side from his end of the couch. He’s had four glasses, but it’s done little for him.

(Y/n) finished the rest of her third glass. She set the empty wineglass on the coffee table before leaning back against the armrest of the couch, continuing her staring contest with Katsuki. Her legs lay across his on the couch, threatening to intertwine. She shrugged.

“I like my coworker, and I like my paycheck, but that’s about it.”

Katsuki leaned against his palm, mimicking (Y/n)’s posture. “Have you told us about your coworker before?”

(Y/n) shook her head. “Hana. She’s honestly my best friend.”

Katsuki nodded, slightly disinterested. “So, what I hear is that you like your friend and money,” Katsuki argued.

(Y/n) looked unimpressed. Katsuki stared back, unsmiling and challenging. They watched each other for a few seconds too long.

Eventually, he stood. “Kidding.”

(Y/n)’s eyes followed him.

“You wan’ another glass?”

Another glass turned into another three for the both of them. Alcohol tastes better with company, and if they weren’t careful, it’d start drinking them instead. Katsuki knew this all too well.

He felt lighter and faded, and it was different from when he drank alone. (Y/n)’s giggles were infectious, and by God, was she beautiful.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she told an exaggerated version of when she and Hana closed up Satou’s while hungover. It shouldn’t have been as funny of a story as she made it seem, but with her laughter bubbling up every few seconds, she failed to notice how easily Katsuki could drink – or his piercing stare beside her.

“Can I try something?” Katsuki interrupted her, and (Y/n)’s laughter dried up almost instantaneously. She gave him a look, her leg sliding up his thigh. His hand’s been resting on her calf for a while now, but she hadn’t noticed.

“What?” She snided, a kitten grin on her lips. Her wine was forgotten about, sitting on the coffee table. She glanced down between her and Katsuki, finally noticing his calloused hand sliding up the smooth skin of her leg.

But he pulled away.

“Nothin’,” he chuckled, rubbing a hand over his eyes, a grin creeping onto his face despite his best efforts to hide it. (Y/n) almost bounced up, crawling over to him.

“Noooo, what did you wanna try?” She whined. Katsuki would’ve called her fucking annoying if he was sober, but he just rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead.

“Tell meeee, I can see you smiling,” (Y/n) rested her head on his shoulder, her eyelashes tickling his neck.

Katsuki sighed, breathing a quiet, “Fuck…”

“Can I kiss you?” (Y/n) beat him to the punch, and her mutter of a request was the only spark of permission Katsuki needed to pull her into his lap. (Y/n) felt a fist in her hair before anything else, pulling her closer to the Pro Hero suddenly underneath her. Teeth gnashed, sloppy and unbound. (Y/n) whimpered, her arms finding solace draped over Katsuki’s shoulders. It was different from Izuku; every part of him was suffocating. He yanked on her scalp, and (Y/n) whined, rearing back, exposing her neck, and Katsuki glanced up at her briefly while he planted gentler kisses down her jaw to her collarbone. He bit into the undefiled skin he found, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make (Y/n) grip him and squeal, twisting the back of his shirt in her fists. He drank up her reactions, licking back up to her lips. He caught her open mouth in his own, swallowing her mewls. She tried to pull away to catch her breath, but the stray hand that wandered to her hips pulled her closer to him, subtly grinding her against his hardening semi.

He needed to stop.

Fuck.

He needed to stop, now.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but (Y/n) let him handle her however he wished. His motions were rougher than Izuku; no, perhaps needier. Unrestrained. Alas, she clung to him.

Opportunistically, she yanked his hair back.

Katsuki pulled away from her and let out the most sinfully glorious moan (Y/n)’s ever heard from any man.

She felt his large hands around her waist, easily lifting her off of him. “Stop,” he breathed, setting her onto the couch beside him. He gave her another peck, and (Y/n) deepened it. He let her. She pulled him down on top of her. “(Y/n),” he kissed her again, bracing himself on his elbows, caging her in. “No, stop,” he repeated more sternly, but it was half-hearted.

“Why?” (Y/n) whined, wrapping a leg around his waist, but Katsuki kept his hips in place; he knew if he ground into her right now, it’d be over. He lifted his head enough to make sincere eye contact with her, and for the first time, (Y/n) felt him look at her with endearment.

He swallowed and shook his head, a hand coming down to smooth some of her hair away. He took a moment to speak, catching his breath and allowing himself to calm down. “No. Not yet,” was all he uttered. (Y/n)’s insides bubbled, but she couldn’t help the disappointment that accompanied her butterflies.

Her eyebrows screwed upwards in a pout, but Katsuki appeared immune, giving her cheek one last fleeting stroke of his thumb before he pulled away, sitting up. (Y/n) remained lying on the couch, watching him as he ran a hand through his hair, the red tips of his ears fading by the second.

“Can we at least cuddle?” (Y/n) whispered, tearing her eyes away to stare at the blank television. She didn’t want to look at him when he rejected her. She heard Katsuki inhale.

“Yeah,” he glanced at their wineglasses, “sure.” He stood, shifting slightly to adjust the discomfort in his pants. “Just… gimme a minute. Pick a movie or somethin’,” he picked up each of their wineglasses and the corresponding empty bottle before heading to the kitchen.

Cuddling with Katsuki wasn’t too different from Izuku. He didn’t exactly make an effort to cuddle back, so she just lie on top of him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her hands around his middle while he relaxed against the armrest. She honestly thought he was falling asleep because she picked yet another anime movie to watch, and she didn’t think he was interested. His breathing slowed against her ear.

“Katsuki.”

“Mm.”

“You’re going to miss my favorite part.”

“Kay.”

“Katsuki, watch.”

“I am.”

She eventually stopped trying.

Once the movie ended, Katsuki yawned, suddenly draping a hand over (Y/n)’s back. (Y/n) snuggled closer into his chest, watching the credits roll on the screen, the only source of light in the room.

“… I miss Izuku.”

Katsuki, who’d been well-awake for some time now, glanced down at her. “We can facetime him. Dunno if he’ll pick up,” he muttered. “Dunno what time it is.”

“Can we?”

Katsuki hummed, reaching for his phone on the coffee table. He unlocked it, ignoring the texts from the groupchat and selecting Izuku’s contact. He facetimed him.

Izuku didn’t pick up right away, but when he did, it was apparent he’d been asleep.

He was shirtless in a hotel bed, leaning over the side and readjusting as he stared at his screen with lidded eyes. He’d been setting up his team of sidekicks to conduct a stakeout for the weekend, and frankly, he was exhausted. He rubbed his face. “Hi? What’s up? Why call so late?”

“I missed you,” (Y/n) giggled, taking in the Number One Hero’s appearance. Izuku looked confused, brow taut as he squinted and blinked a few times. Katsuki gave a sleepy grin. Izuku hummed, his lip tightening.

“Do you know what time it is?”

Katsuki glanced at the clock on his phone. “2 AM.”

“And you’ve been drinking,” Izuku was sharp. “Both of you have.”

Katsuki’s face fell into a scowl, and (Y/n) filled with a type of shame she didn’t know existed.

Izuku sighed, and he saw the way (Y/n)’s eyes widened upon hearing the disapproval in his voice. “(Y/n), I’m not mad, sweetie, but just…,” Izuku shook his head, “be careful with that.”

(Y/n) frowned, looking pitiful and feeling the vague essence of being scolded. “Oka–“

“Oh, fuck off, Deku,” Katsuki hung up the call.

Katsuki didn’t comfort (Y/n). He didn’t feel as if anything happened for her to need to be comforted. Instead, he put his phone to the side and pulled her close to him. Katsuki drifted to sleep before (Y/n). She couldn’t fall asleep as easily with alcohol in her system, and she kept thinking that Izuku was upset with her.

“Katsuki?” She finally spoke up.

No answer.

“Izuku was telling the truth, right? When he said he’s not mad at me?”

He still didn’t answer her. She only heard his quiet snores. She sighed, snuggling her head further under his chin.

She learned Katsuki grinds his teeth in his sleep.

[snowbabys]

Promp 4 and 11 with Hee please

🥺🥺🥺

a/n: here it is 🥺 also sorry for the rushed end, i'm sleepy 🥺🥺

4. "Did you sleep well? ...I know, I saw." + 11. "Why do you look so scared?"

tw/warning: mentions of food and eating, messy sleep schedules (?).

Heeseung was the cute cashier of a convenience store a block away from your dorm. You've been crushing on him since he started working there, about 3 months ago, and what once were casual midnight walks to grab a snack on a white night became a habit of eating ramen at 3:30 am while sharing a coke with him. There weren't many people doing groceries at night, so it was the perfect opportunity to talk to him and drink at his features while he was distracted with his food or even with the usual sleepwalking customer.

"So we had to rewrite the whole thing 'cause he misread the initial theme," Heeseung finished off with a huff, drained as he restocked the chip shelf with the packages you promptly handed him; even after a few complaints from Heeseung, you were more than happy to help open boxes and carry products around with him.

You barely captured the full story, only paying attention to how his lips moved and how often they touched while he spoke, hypnotized by the pinkish gloss on them and hardly catching on how he had to bend a bit more to take a chip from you. His eyes went up and down tiredly, concentrated on his work and oblivious to your stare.

"Well, that sounds tiring," you state, still in trance with the curve the corner of his lips made as he cracked a smile, your voice barely audible, causing him to blush when he noticed you focused on nothing but him. Heeseung let out a dreamy sigh and shrugged.

"So what about you?" His voice sounded softer and lower than before, velvety notes embellishing his worried words. "Did you sleep well?" You couldn't see his face when he looked up at the shelf to tidy up the chips in a straight line, now having the best view of his nape and working back muscles under the store's blue uniform.

It wasn't news to him about your messed-up sleep schedules, and he didn't care much about it, his wasn't the best either. It was a good thing he had someone else to spend the night with. But it wasn't like he didn't care about you at all, as he insisted you go to sleep as soon as you got back to your dorm - it just wasn't the easiest task to sleep while the world around you was fully awake.

"Yeah, decently..." you looked down at the almost empty box. You were tired, in all honesty, and considered for a long time if you should give yourself some rest instead of visiting tonight, but just listening to Heeseung's honey-like voice on your arrival was enough to make you satisfied with your choice. You could listen to him talk for ages.

"I know, I saw," Heeseung let out a satisfied hum, and you heavily questioned your ears, uncertain about what they had caught. Did he say he saw your sleep? Or were you way too tired that his words morphed into something else?

Looking up at him, you found him still distracted with the colorful packages, but he was quick to feel your stare and turn to you again.

"Did you just say...?"

"Yeah," he gave you a smug smirk, looking down as a reddish tone crept up his cheeks and ears. "You look so cute while you're asleep." His voice was no more than a low whisper.

"Is that a joke?" You asked with a half-hearted smile, trying your best to find the fun in that. Heeseung only took the box from your hands and began playing with the cardboard ends while thinking of an answer.

"No. Why would it be?" He anticipated a reply, but at the piercing sound of silence and disturbing lack of movement, he shyly glanced back at you, eyebrows knitted in confusion when he met wide eyes. "Why do you look so scared?"

"I-I have to go now," you hurriedly took your phone from your pocket and tried to flee.

Heeseung sighed wearily, dissatisfied that the conversation had taken this turn and mostly irritated because he expected more and thought so highly of you. It was disappointing that you reacted just like all the others.

"Sorry, not gonna happen."

prompt game | game's masterlist

[drapopia]

Golden Wind Skincare/Makeup Headcanons

Authors note: This took me so long, sorry I haven't posted lately :') I'm graduating soon so I have been horrendously busy haha! hope ya'll enjoy these little bits of info I believe to be true lol

Bruno's Team

Bruno

Likes to take care of his skin, tends to use minimal products, but nice ones nonetheless

Tends to have drier skin than most, so he makes sure to use a moisturizer that doesn’t make his skin feel tacky or sticky. No fragrance for him! 

When others on the team are feeling low, he will offer to let them use some of his masks he gets in those monthly subscription boxes. Fugo will deny that the team saw him reclining on Bruno’s bed with a bubbly mask on. 

His usual makeup routine is minimal, he prefers a skin tint and a mascara, a light pit of powder where he tends to get shinier at the end of the day. Sometimes he wears lip oil and a bit of bronzer. 

Knows how to do extravagant makeup, tends not to do it because of mafia customs. 

Firm believer that gender doesn’t define if you wear makeup or not 

Abbacchio 

Keeps up with his routine as best he can, forgets occasionally. 

Acne prone when he was younger, he does have some scarring on his cheeks from when he was younger. He does spot treatment religiously to avoid it now that he’s older. 

While he isn’t insecure of his skin, he does like to wear heavy foundation because he likes the look. Didn’t wear much makeup while on the force, wasn’t taken all well by his cop buddies. 

Now that he’s with the gang, he opts for a heavier makeup routine, Sephora knows him all too well. They don’t understand how they lose product every time he comes in, but can never catch him stealing. (Moody Blues is a sneaky lil guy) 

Experiments often when he’s alone with different eye looks, tends to keep his purple and black lipstick. 

Giorno

While he knows some stuff about skincare and makeup, he wasn’t exposed to it much in his life. His stepfather looked down on it, and his mother wasn’t an encouraging role model. 

He washes his face and moisturizes it with whatever Bruno tells him to, he has some acne on his cheeks but he tends to forget about it. He picks and gets scolded by Fugo. 

He doesn’t wear all that much makeup, he likes lipgloss because it’s shiny. 

Narancia

This little devil. 

Has stolen Bruno’s lipstick and put it on and never gave it back. He refuses to give it back, even though he doesn’t wear it. He puts it on before he gets in the shower and flaunts in the mirror, immediately washes it off. 

He does minimal skincare, but will join Trish on skincare nights and enjoy the little face masks she puts on him. 

Has eaten cucumbers off his eyes and spit them out immediately after because face mask got on them 

Likes the appeal of mascara, he’s frightened he will get an eye infection though. 

Fugo 

One of the only boys to keep up with their skincare, he has a more oilier skin type and is hyper aware of it. He has acne, and stresses about it often. 

He likes wearing blush, and enjoys eyeliner. Loves graphic eyeliner, but is scared to try it lest it look unappealing 

Abbacchio taught him how to do his eyebrows and maintain them so they look good, he prides himself on his tidy lil brows. 

Made sure Trish got her blush on the mission 

Mista

This man washes with a bar of soap and that is it. He will occasionally do face masks with Narancia and Trish, but that is the extent of his skincare lol. 

Wears lip gloss and appreciates makeup!

There’s not much to say, he’s not that interested in that stuff as much as he is in fashion.

La Squadra

Risotto

Someone moisturize this mans face, I BEG YOU 

Neglects his skincare routine often, he opts for cheaper stuff that he can afford. If he really needs something, he’ll use Metallica and shoplift it. 

Loves a good sharp eyeliner, and wears it pretty much everyday.

His older cousin showed him the Rocky Horror Picture Show when he was a wee babe, and he particularly loves Columbia’s eye look, but is hesitant to try it.

Draws on his brows, tweezes them as well. 

Prosciutto

Fancy little guy, loves fancy stuff! 

He likes fragrance even though it screws his skin up, and will do it until the day he dies. 

He enjoys the opportunity  to recline every night or so and relax with a bottle of limoncello and do a mask. He isn’t exactly religious about his routine, but he tries to keep up with it. 

Wears a light bit of bronzer and a shimmer on his inner corner since he read about it in a magazine when he was younger. 

He also tweezes his brows and keeps them thin. 

Pesci 

Doesn’t have much of a skincare routine, likes face masks though! One of his fondest memories is when he first joined La Squadra and did face masks with Melone in their basement. He was frightened of the atmosphere down there, but very intrigued! 

Keeps his eyebrows thicker but still likes to keep them tidy. 

Wears a minimal amount of blush, a green satin lipstick, and a lil bit of mascara! He is very proud that he can apply lipstick so well, he rarely, if ever, makes a mistake. 

Gets those dollar sheet masks from corner stores

Melone

This man reeks of fragrance, he does not care one bit about how it dries out his already crusty skin (said lovingly) 

If he extends an invitation to do skincare, he trusts you. He has initiated almost every new member of La Squadra by asking them to sit down, put on a mask, and chat. 

This is also how he gathers information for work, but also camaraderie. 

Loves extravagant makeup, but doesn’t have many opportunities. 

Can pull off graphic eyeliner, tends to go for sharper and brighter colors. Loves a bright blush and an iridescent highlighter on the tip of his nose. 

Unlike Pesci, cannot put on lipstick to save his life. 

Formaggio 

Does not do skincare, washes his face with a bar of soap and somehow has the clearest skin in the group. He sleeps with a dirty pillowcase and has the face of a baby. HOW 

Has put on makeup before, liked the look and didn’t appreciate how heavy it felt on his face. 

He made Illuso put fake eyelashes on him and he felt like he ascended. 

He has an eyelash curler he uses on his lashes sometimes, just for himself though (and the ladies-)

Illuso 

You cannot tell me this man doesn’t have an absolute arsenal of products in his cabinets. 

Has definitely made fun of the others for having such a scattered routine. 

Isn’t the biggest fan of makeup actually, he does it to pamper himself. 

Enjoys a more natural look over a glamorous one, he likes shimmers and golds, dark purples and iridescent colors catch his eye more than matte, cool toned ones. 

Is a sucker for red lipstick. 

Ghiaccio

Has a routine, is just very negligent of it. He forgets it exists until he gets a pimple, and then goes into overdrive, He gets very annoyed by blemishes, and has scars where he was younger and picked at them. 

Has freckles, so he likes to accentuate them with makeup. He loves the way they make his hair look, if that makes any sense!

Wears mascara and a bb cream and that’s really it. Sometimes he’ll spice it up with a light blue or purple shimmer on his lids but that’s really about it. 

Very strange additional idea, I think he finds acne attractive. 

Sorbet and Gelato 

They both keep to their routines as best they can, though Sorbet is more diligent with it. Gelato is just kinda reminded by Sorbet of it and he’s like “Oh! Yeah! Thanks babe” 

They do face masks,  listen to Judas Priest, and sit on their lil loveseat and give cheek kisses 

Gelato wears lip balm and that is it. Sorbet wears eyeliner religiously and has perfected his base routine to a religious experience. He feels naked without either of the two. 

Gelato makes Sorbet do his makeup when they’re especially bored. He loves the look, don’t get me wrong. He just doesn’t have the patience or steady hands. 

Bonus !!!!

Cioccolata and Secco 

Cioccolata does his normal makeup routine as seen in the show almost every day. He goes to sleep with it on and wakes up and applies more. The cycle repeats. 

Secco washes his face and that is it. He washes with bar soap and he has rosy cheeks like a baby. 

Cioccolata wears graphic eyeliner on occasion and enjoys it. He also does trad goth looks when he has the time! He gets the appeal. 

Secco will make him do his lipstick so they can match sometimes. They can’t see it under Oasis, but it makes them feel closer nonetheless. 

Before Passione, Cioccolata stuck to a bb cream and mascara, just to look ‘normal’,

[kiridarling]

𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐒 𝐔𝐏!

shouto todoroki | f!reader, ceo heir!shouto, mirror sex, hair pulling, choking, inappropriate use of showerhead, alcohol. minors dni!

— 3k words

"You're so pretty when you make a mess, aren't you?"

Miss Y/N,

I couldn't help but notice the latest project my father assigned is extremely difficult. If I'm going to be completely honest, you'll work yourself to death at this rate, and your greys double by the day. Drinks on me at Club 777 at 7 pm. Sound like a deal?

— shouto todoroki

“A club.”

“Glad you could make it,” Shouto gives you a small smile; it’s anything but hostile. And yet, that’s all yours is as you assume the space to his right in the velvet crescent booth. “I hope it wasn’t too hard to find. Club 777 is pretty popular around he—what are you doing.”

As your fingers fly across the keyboard, you give him an indignant huff, the screen highlighting the underside of your face electric blue as you continue hacking away at your presentation. If you’re going to be forced to go out, you’re going to make the most of it—and that’s by getting the work that you would be getting done at home, at a club. And a rather loud one, at that.

"You're a workaholic," he observes with a sigh, and you flash him a fat sarcastic smile. Stupid fucking CEO heirs and their entitlement.

"Congrats, you've solved everything! Can I go home, now?"

"No," Shouto frowns before he rudely snaps your laptop shut and sets it to his right. Pushing a plate of clear-colored shots your way, your eyes bulge—there have got to be at least fifteen. "Drink up—it'll take the edge off."

You blink between your coworker and the shots. You trust Shouto and you've known each other for a while...somewhat. His father is your boss, and with Shouto as the next in line you’ve got no choice but to play nice. He’s as cocky as he is aloof, but you suppose he’s fine overall—and he's seen you break your back over this project for a solid month and a half. Positive you won't be able to keep your conscious from running laps over all the work you have to do otherwise, you snatch the first shot and chuck it down your gullet with worrying enthusiasm. Shouto lifts an eyebrow and you reach for another.

"Thirsty?" He chuckles, before grabbing a shot for himself. The second shot burns, but never as much as the first, and the back of your hand catches what doesn't make it into your mouth as you say:

"More than you could think."

"And then—and then I was like, um no sir, I think you got my change wrong by at least five bucks! He didn't believe me, like at all."

"Did he make a fuss of it?"

"Of course."

"That means he has a small dick," Shouto advises with the second to last shot in his hand, wrist-watch glinting in the club light. His face is a deeper red than his hair and you've never noticed how nice a suit fits him as if you don't see him in one every day. You giggle at that, too far gone yourself to be offended on the stranger's behalf. Shouto's jacket drapes over your shoulders like an oversized blanket even though you bickered about not being cold, with enough alcohol in your veins to warm a village.

"Probably," you rest your head against the crescent booth, dismissive at the softness from the red velvet that’s probably ruining your hair. "Either way, I pulled a Karen and called the manager on 'em.

Shouto nods, "As you should. Once I tricked my father into thinking he had a very unhappy customer by sending him a million emails from 'John Appleseed' and calling his personal secretary twice as much."

You cackle, throwing yourself across the table at the thought of your Boss’ face hot and red with anger (as it does.) Shouto's loved nothing more than to make his animosity against his father well-known—to you, at least—and to say bored Heir been getting creative the past few months is an understatement. "Oh fuck—when'd you stop calling?"

Shouto shrugs, muscles rolling underneath his white dress shirt, "Once I filled his voicemail box.”

He holds a smile, small and distant, as he watches you wheeze as if he just told the funniest story in the world. In your defense, Shouto's never really been a funny guy, but he does funny things. Like when he stares at you when he doesn’t think you notice, or when he gets so close your chests nearly touch, but doesn't notice it. Doesn't point it out, at least. You find your laugh dying along with the smile on his face, though, and when he says nothing afterward but stare.

"...Shouto?" You snap in his face to make sure he's still in there—but it's hard to tell, with his glazed eyes and scarily steady breathing. His arms find either side of you, and you're too tipsy to realize you've been caged against the booth until it's too late.

"Your eyes are quite mesmerizing, Miss Y/N," he marvels. You can smell the vodka on his breath, and positive that compliment would’ve set your face aflame if the alcohol hadn’t already, any hints of cherry obscured by the neon club lights.

"I—um, thank you," you giggle, and if you were sober, you'd shoot yourself in the foot for reacting like a school girl. But you suppose you can give yourself some leeway—this is Shouto Todoroki after all, and for some reason, he's complimenting you. "You...you aren't too bad yourself."

"You wouldn't mind if I got a little closer, would you?" Though Shouto holds a cheeky half-drunken smile on his own, knowing any closer will result in nothing but a kiss and perhaps a little more. His eyes flicker to your lips the same time yours flicker to his, and you and you catch a heat in his eyes you didn’t notice before.

"Not at all."

You blink and Shouto's lips are on yours. They’re soft, painfully so, and it's clear he knows what he's doing—with his hands dropping to your waist and tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the right. Nudging your lips open, his tongue easily finds it's way around, mapping the insides of your mouth and taking note of what makes you shiver the most.

Shouto tastes like vodka. It's a familiar taste, one that you associate with seven minutes in heaven and quick make-out sessions in high school—and yet this time it spurs your heart to beat faster, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in even closer, as if it's possible.

When you pull away it’s clear neither of you really want to, but unfortunately you need to oxygen to live, chest heaving in unison as your eyes catch his own. Shouto's grip tightens around your waist as he licks over his already wet lips, glossed by what you assume is your spit.

“You’re one dangerous woman,” he rasps with swollen lips. You giggle, but you know he knows his words’ effect on you because goosebumps are impossible to hide.

“Thank you,” you respond, a bit awkwardly—because what else are you supposed to say?

"I'm positive it isn't the alcohol talking when I say I want to take you right here." Shouto growls as his eyes hold you in your seat. You shiver, the request sounding impossibly inviting, and your thighs discreetly rub together to take the edge off a bit.

"Bathroom," you breathe against his lips, this night turning for the most unexpected.

"Off, off, get all of this off," Shouto pants the moment you two step into a gender-neutral singles bathroom. You don't doubt they made it gender-neutral for this exact reason, but that thought leaves as quickly as it enters when Shouto pins you against the sink starts to pepper hot kisses down your neck. He scrambles to bunch your dress to your waist over taking it off completely and growls at the sight of your lower-half in absence of your usual attire.

"Do you know how long I've wanted you? Hmm?” He's breathless as he settles between your legs with a lick of his lips, pushing the excess of your dress into your hands. You really don't know how long he’s wanted you, but you find yourself biting your lip at the prospect anyway—that you've been driving your boss's son, your future boss, just as crazy as he's been driving you.

"Shouto—"

"Shhh," he interrupts, pulling your panties to the side. "Let me take care of you. You've been working hard these past few months, no?"

You guess so.

Either way, all clarity dies when Shouto licks a fat stripe up your slit, chuckling when you slide a tentative hand into his hair. Your grip tightens when his lips wrap around your clit and suck, slipping a finger between your folds to elicit a whimper or two. He bites his lip when you tug a little.

"Keep doing that and you just might ruin me," Shouto groans, before his mouth returns and he’s adding another finger. When the digits curl just right, your hips buck in faint frustration—they're moving too slow.

"Can you, um," you blush, eyes skittering to the bathroom walls instead. The club music permeates despite the fact that they look like they're made of solid brick, vibrating the floor and sink underneath you both. "Go faster?"

Shouto's eyes snap to yours. For a second you’re afraid he's going to say no, but he tosses your leg over his shoulder and adjusts your hips until they're at a perfect level, licking his lips and growling:

"My pleasure."

You're positive whoever loiters near the bathroom door hears your yelp as his mouth descends to devour your pussy, eating you so enthusiastically that you see you're slick smeared across his pink cheeks. Shouto pulls your hips deeper into his face with a defiant growl and you have to drop your forearms on the sink to keep yourself from falling to the hard ground, your grip around the porcelain ever-tightening.

"Feel good?" He rubs a heavy thumb over your clit in place of his mouth and stuffs you with a third finger. You nod with a broken moan as he pulls his digits out all the way out before burying them knuckle-deep again, grasp on the sink slipping. He flicks your clit, "Answer me."

"Y-Yeah," you nod again, near-hyperventilating. You’re sure Shouto’s getting a kick out of it—at least, if his chuckle has anything to say about it.

"Good girl," he coos, the circles on your clit slowly quickening, "You're so pretty when you make a mess, aren't you?"

You're nodding along with him, though you're not exactly sure why—but then his mouth returns and suddenly, why doesn't matter as much.

Shouto's more vocal than you expected, groaning into your sweetness as your thighs trembles next to his head. He holds you like you're precious, like you're actually something to him, but you're much too drunk to unpack all of that right now. Instead, you tug at his hair. It pulls a much louder moan from his gut and you find yourself enjoying the vibrations, yanking harder to hear him again.

"W-Wait, Shouto," you whimper out, painfully close as you pull at his hair but this time to pull him away from you, "I wanna—wanna cum on your cock...if that's okay."

Shouto blinks once, twice, and then you're staring at yourself in the mirror listening to him frantically undoing his belt, cursing when the metal slaps him across the palm. You giggle.

"Eager, are we?"

"You don't even know," he pants, and the tip of his cock kissing your entrance has you biting your lip. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and they melt when he fits the head of his cock inside, the grip he has on the porcelain sink turning white as he pushes further.

"You are—you are painfully tight, Miss Y/N," Shouto wheezes into your neck, teeth grit as his pelvis finally brushes against your ass. You resist the urge to wheeze with him, his cock filling you to the point where your lungs struggle to find room to breathe.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you joke, eyes fluttering shut. Shouto tuts, grabbing the underside of your face as he says:

"Eyes open, Miss Y/N. I want you to watch yourself fall apart as I fuck you."

Your eyes peel open, albeit reluctantly as you whine, not understanding why you need to watch your own face when you can enjoy the sight of him instead, "But Shouto, that's embarrassing..."

"Just trust me," he grunts, and his hips are snapping into yours, sending you jolting into the sink to the point where you have to brace a hand on the mirror to keep yourself from being squished flat against the porcelain. Shouto leans over, "You trust me, don't you?"

And well. When he puts it like that...

"Look at yourself, not at me," Shouto says, catching you redhanded. You whine when the hand holding your head moves to your neck and squeezes, cutting off your oxygen supply just enough for your eyelids to drop halfway. "See? See how good you look? So wrecked for me already and we've barely started."

"S-Shut up," you moan more than you say, finding yourself mesmerized in the way your lips part and by the redness of your cheeks. Shouto dips his head into your neck and sucks, prompting your free hand to find his multicolored hair again and pull. His reaction is almost automatic, the way the smooth rock of his hips changes into a quick snap in a heartbeat. It has you keening, his cock reaching places spots you weren't aware you had, and he crushes you against the sink to rub at your clit.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous for me," he grunts, hips finding the energy to pick up the pace. You whimper and he's sucking a hickey into your neck, hot breaths punctuating along with his sharp thrusts. "Feel so good around my cock, like you were made for me—shit—"

This time you break the rules, eyes flickering to look Shouto in the mirror as you watch him come undone. His hips stutter as he muffles a broken moan in the back of your neck, body shuddering while he fills you up. His thrusts slowly dissolve into nothing and soon it's just your heavy breathing between brick walls, until Shouto pulls out with a hiss.

"You didn't cum."

"O-Oh, um," You blink at his unimpressed gaze through the mirror as if you got caught redhanded. "I...usually can't. Without a vibe.”

Shouto hums at that but says nothing. You watch something in his brain churn, eyes surveying the room before a lightbulb appears above his head and he's snapping his fingers.

"The shower."

"...What?"

"The. Shower." Shouto says, a little cheekier this time, as he guides you towards a simple shower hidden behind a curtain. Now, why there’s a shower in a club bathroom is beyond you.

"Well. This seems awfully convenient," you click. Shouto shrugs.

"Sun (the author) says it's to clean up the drunks who vomit all over themselves." He takes the only shower seat available, back pressing against the tile.” I think she just wants you to ride a showerhead ****if I'm being completely honest."

"Maybe she tried it for the first time recently or something,” you hum absentmindedly, but that thought flies out the window as Shouto grunts:

"Either way, it's irrelevant. Strip."

"I—completely?" You exclaim, covering your body despite the fact that it's already covered by your dress again. Shouto raises an eyebrow, settling both elbows on his knees once grabbing the showerhead from its bar.

"Unless you want your outfit to get soaking wet, yes. Completely."

Touché.

You're naked fairly quickly and Shouto lays you across the tile even quicker. You watch him test the different modes on his hand, before choosing the one with the most...gusto. You spread your thighs and fight the embarrassing blush dusting your cheeks from the exposing position.

"Ready?" You roll your eyes.

"I swear Shouto, if you do—o-oh."

He presses the rushing water to your clit, and you have to take a step back, fully unprepared for how nice the pressure would feel. Shouto chuckles at that, the soles of his loafers soaking in the lukewarm water with you as he sits with his legs spread, brazenly enjoying the view.

"Feels good?"

You nod, hips subtly grinding into the hot stream. Shouto bites his lips at the view and it turns you on that much more to know you can have such an effect, before his free hand drops to his palm himself through his dress pants.

"I get the perfect view, too," Shouto growls to himself, tilting his head ever-so-slightly as you release a broken moan, bare hips stuttering against the tile. "A perfect view of that pretty little pussy. Ah ah, keep those legs for me."

Your inner thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, the edge looking much closer than it did previously. The combination of Shouto's words, his sounds, and the steady beat of the water against your clit is enough to have anyone shaking, and the only complaint you have is that you wish he wasn't so fucking far.

"S-Shouto," you whimper, hands scrambling across the slippery tile. "I'm close."

"Yeah? Do it then, make me proud," Shouto growls with a feral smile, grip tightening around his cock—you nod, chest shuddering.

“Y-Yeah just adjust the—oh fuck, Shou, right there!”

Your thighs clench as you gasp and your fingernails dig into the grout between the tile as you orgasm, your moan nearly bordering on a scream. Shouto groans, grip tight on his cock through his damp suit pants, and you nearly giggle as your high ebbs.

“Have I ever told you how dangerous you are, Y/N?” Shouto says cheekily. You grin back, cocking your head to the right.

“Only a million times.”

“Well then I owe it to you again,” he says lowly, and you get the message you two aren’t done as he joins you on the wet floor to cradle your jaw.

“You’re one dangerous woman, Y/N.”

a/n: i fully expose myself in this, and you know what? i'm fine with that.

click to return to CLUB 777

[furby-organist]

@licentious-sanguinity

The bar was an old one, and it certainly looked like it too. Old box televisions that still had the clunky cable boxes sitting underneath them propped up high on shelves so customers could watch the latest news or the latest shows, blocky subtitles rolling across dim and fuzzy screens thar crackled when if one touched them. The smell of smoke and drinks hanging in the air like a persistent fog, the tables, though cleaned of any unpleasant sticky spots or stains, and the countertop of the bar looking as polished and as smooth as ever, still carried a look and feel to them that conveyed that they were from an old time long gone, be it in the design or simply in the way the leather stools and booths were frayed and torn along the edges from decades of claws scratching at them, the floor long worn away where the legs of the chairs scraped against the ground. It was one of those places that tended to have a look about it that it’s seen much violence over the years, but the walls had yet to loosen their lips to whisper about it, and for many, they weren’t the types to listen anyway. The glasses were clean, the booze came in fresh and cold, the food was decent in terms of portion sizes and tasty enough to help stave off the worst of hangovers, so for many, despite the worn wear and tear, it was a comfortable place to simply let go of their burdens for the day and just relax.

One of these figures, sat alone at a booth, seemed content on keeping to themselves, a elegant looking cigarette holder clutched between two lazy claws, the end of the holder shaped to look like a serpent’s open maw, where a fat cigar was perched, burning steadily. They were sitting there, idly sipping at wine, a half finished plate of what looked to be a personal cheese pizza resting on their table, and despite the rather heavy cleavage of their dress, they seemed completely content to be overlooked, to be ignored.

And old radios fit right in at old bars with old box televisions. This sort of place felt almost as old as he did. Not worn out, but as worn down as the polyurethane gloss on wooden tabletops, and as visibly dated to boot. 

The minute he would (eventually) set foot back outside, he’d be reminded just how much the rest of the world had moved on. But now, he was here to grab a drink (or two) and extract whatever social interaction he could, from anyone either too drunk to recognize the radio demon, or too tired to care.

That, or get into a bar-fight. Or commentate a bar-fight. Or help a sloshed gal to safety, if she entered his line of sight. Or get sloshed himself and nab other customers’ food as soon as the chef set it out for a server to pick up. Not necessarily in that order.

His eyes scanned the bar area periodically, like radar, checking for familiar faces or obvious entertainment -- anything from friends to rambunctious drunkards. None had made an appearace yet. All that was offered to him was the usual din, and unfamiliar company. Alright, fine. Next targets on the Social Interaction list were ‘people who looked like they wanted to chat.’ He half-sat, half-leaned against a barstool (since when could he sit correctly?), chatterboxing it up with a friendly couple that had roped him and an unfamiliar third into some asinine conversation he’d probably forget two minutes after it ended.

[hops-hunny]

Hello?

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Black!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Request: N/A

Summary: Neville and (Y/n) get high together often.

Warnings: drugs( weed lmao), swearing, making out

A/N: This was based on the specific lyric below from Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. Pothead confident Neville is my favorite headcanon dfregfefe. I also felt like writing for Neville bc after reading a lot of @lxngbottom​‘s fics I was DEEPLY inspired.

“Are you into me, like I'm into you?

Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?

You're so close, and yet so far

I wonder how you look when you're in the dark”

The Weasley siblings all found themselves in absolute bliss when their parents told them they were going on a getaway. Apparently Arthur had learned about muggle spas and thought it’d be a lovely idea to take his wife to one for a much needed vacation after many years she had been caring for her children (and sometimes their guess) without barely any breaks. The gaggle of gingers all found it to be quite a wonderful idea too, but for other reasons. Although they had varying reasons of why they were excited for their parents to leave the house, Ron’s being wanting to invite over the other ⅔ members of the Golden Trio, Ginny wanting to wear that skirt that her mum always told her was ‘just a tad too short, dear’, and lastly Fred & George wanting to try out new and exciting inventions there was that one thing that tied them all together: wanting to get blazed out of their fucking minds. 

However, as quickly as that mischievous glint formed in all their eyes, their mother said something they all dreaded.

“Oh and by the way, we’re leaving Percy in charge!”

A collective groan was shared as the boy in question held a proud and cocky smirk that once again, he was the most trusted out of his siblings. However as per usual, Fred and George were not giving up that easily.

“What are we going to do?! You know Percy will rat on us!” Ron whispered yelled at the other three through gritted teeth. They all sat around the quaint little living room, distressed at what to do. Ron had already sent a text (is that what they were called? He wasn’t used to the muggle technology (Y/n) had got them all to use) to both Hermione and Harry telling them to pack their bags. He’d never live it down!

“Oh relax dear brother of mine! Me and Freddie here suspected something like this would happen so we came prepared. Right Fred?” George said with a smirk as he looked to his twin to the right of him. George nodded before pulling out an envelope.

“Exhibit A also known as ‘Blackmail dear Percival Into Leaving the House for the Summer.” he grin grew wider as he opened the envelope pulling out the photos. In the photos, Percy was shirtless during a party in the gryffindor common room. He had a half drunk bottle of fire whiskey in one hand and a blunt in his other which was held to his lips. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if dear ol’ mum and pop anonymously got pictures of their golden boy doing such awful acts?” he cooed, feigning a voice of disappointment.

“While you two idiots may not be helpful for jack shit else, leave it up to you to have a plan to get into trouble.” Ginny said rolling her eyes, a small smile forming on her face. “Well I guess that’s settled then. I’ll hit up (Y/n), Ron you hit up Nev and tell him to bring the loud. Lots of it too!”

-------------------------------------

That’s how they all ended up where they are currently. ‘Exhibit A’ was more than enough to get Percy packing his bags and leaving for a friends house after their parents had left. And of course, Hermione, Harry, (Y/n), and Neville had all shown up at the Burrow bright and as happy as ever. 

Although many people dealt around Hogwarts, Neville’s weed was always the best. He grew custom strains which were infused with other magical plants that had all sorts of properties. You wanted it to taste and smell like cheesecake? Done. Something odorless that packed a mean punch? Also done. He took good care of his product and went through the precautions to make sure it was not only safe but also that he didn’t get caught. He wasn’t always an avid weed smoker though. Originally, a friend had suggested it to him to help with his anxiety which had increased over the years but eventually it became less of an anxiety reducer and more of a favorite pastime. And hell, it left him with a pretty fucking nice amount of galleons in his pocket. It was also how he had met her.

He looked up at her form as she sat across the shed, looking as radiant as ever. She was laughing at something but he didn't know what over the sound of the music. One of his favorite things about her was how beautiful the whiteness of her smile was in comparison to her rich brown skin. It drove him absolutely nuts. It had only been a few weeks since he last saw her but as usual there was something new about her appearance.

He let his eyes wander over the work of art that was (Y/n). Her hair was different, her usual shoulder length black box braids had been swapped our for a beautiful set of honey blonde faux locs that stopped at her waist. In addition to her septum, she now had a nose ring on the left side of her nose and- was that a smiley piercing? Her skin was glowing vibrantly under the different hues of gold of LED lights that corresponded with the music. His eyes shifted down to her chest. 'Hm, she finally got the other one pierced' he noted due to the fact that her crochet bikini top left only the best bits of her breast to the imagination. And then he got to his favorite part. Her legs. Her supple, plush, smooth as glass legs. This wasn’t the first time he had stared at them longer than needed. He couldn’t help it, they were so fucking thick. And, were those his shorts? She must've stolen them from him last smoke sesh. He didn't mind though, she pulled off those denim shorts well and they hugged her in all the right fucking places.

“Bloody hell Nev, what’s taking you so long to roll the joint? Are you already that gone?” Ron groaned as he threw his head back. Neville looked down at the half rolled blunt in his hands, continuing to lick and roll it skillfully.

“Shut up Ron, just hit the fucking bong and leave Neville alone. Ol’ dramatic ass.” there was that honeysuckle voice he loved. God he could listen to her talk for fucking hours. I mean he had before. Her voice was sweet in the center and rough around the edges, a thick american accent still prominent in her voice. He smiled at that, looking up at her to find her already looking at him. As he continued to roll, he licked a fat strip on the wrap before shooting her a wink. 

“Thank you, petal.” he murmured quietly knowing she hadn’t heard as he looked back down at his hands finishing up. He grabbed the same lighter that he carried with him everywhere before lighting the end. As he was about to take a hit, a certain pair of gloss coated lips leaned over his shoulders taking a hit as she wrapped her arms around his upper half. 

Ron groaned again in irritation. “I hate it when you get the first hit! You always leave that damn sticky shit all over the blunt.” as he glared at the girl. She giggled before crawling off the wraparound couch taking her place next to brunette ruffling his long shaggy hair. He had been growing it out recently for no particular reason (definitely not the girl to his right).

“Ron you always buggin on something, nigga shut the fuck up! That’s why when you hit the blunt you leave it wet. Ol’ soppy mouth nigga I swear to god. Share with Mione.” she retorted as she leaned into Neville’s side looking up at him. He smiled down at her before wrapping his arm around her bringing her impossibly close. They both loved each other's touch when they were high. Whenever he’d touch her in one spot, (Y/n) always felt it in another- especially between her legs. She leaned up, kissing his freckled cheek with a smile. “Hey sir, how’s my favorite doing today?” she questioned as he bent down, placing a kiss right below her ear. 

“You know I’m always content when you’re next to me, flower. You don’t even have to question it.” he whispered in her ear before pulling back. She felt her face heat up as she rolled her eyes shoving him lightly. She crawled in his lap, straddling him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He instinctively moved one to her waist, stroking the smooth exposed sepia skin that was there for his enjoyment.

“You always talking some mess, Nev. Why don’t you do something bout it?” she said, motioning for him to hold the blunt up to her lips. He ignored her, looking into her eyes as he took a fat rip. He removed his hand from her waist, gripping her cheeks with it, rings digging into her skin. He leaned impossibly close as he shot gunned the smoke into her mouth. His lips hovered impossibly close to hers. ‘Finally’ she found herself thinking as she closed her eyes. However, the feeling of his soft pink lips never hit hers and she opened her eyes to find him smirking at her.

“And ruin this little game we have? Never.” He said, finally passing the blunt to her. If he had to be honest with himself, he was scared shitless. He was afraid if he actually did make that final move, jumped that final obstacle that she would be gone from his life. Sure, they made out all the time. It was normal for the two of them to get quite handsy with each other during smoke sessions but he found not even that being enough. He didn’t just wanna have his hands on her when he was high or wasted out of his fucking mind, he wanted her all the time. He wanted to sneak into each other's dorms and cuddle till wee hours of the morning. To carry her things to class for her. He wanted to live, breathe, and sleep (Y/n). But, is that what she wanted? He never knew. 

She sighed softly to herself, contemplating. It was very apparent to her that Neville wanted her just as badly as he wanted her. So, why had he never jumped the gun? Did he not want more? Was he really content with this little cat and mouse game they had? He couldn’t be, she knew who he was at heart which was a romantic just as she was. She was pulled from her thoughts as she heard the familiar beat of Hello? by Clairo ft Reji Snow. She smirked at him, leaning her forehead against his as she began to grind softly on his lap.

“Are you into me? Like I’m into you. Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you?” she sung to him softly, her (e/c) eyes meeting his hazel ones. He moved his hands up and down her body as she continued to grind her hips down on his. He let his hands travel to her ass, gripping it firmly. She leaned back slightly as she hit the blunt before returning the favor he had earlier. “You’re so close, and yet so far. I wonder how you look when you’re in the dark.” (Y/n)  continued singing as kissed up his neck, nibbling at the junction of his jaw and neck. He took one of the hands from her ass, moving some of the locs that had fallen into her face. He quickly tossed the blunt out of her hand into the ashtray in the table in front of them before leaning in and kissing her with such strong intensity.

The honey blonde haired girl moaned softly, already putty in the boy’s hands. Neville always knew exactly what to do with his hands. Where to kiss, where to tug, where to bite. Anything but actually dealing with the problem between her legs. She tangled her hands into the back of his hair, matching his lip movement. As he continued holding her ass with one hand, he used his other to stroke her cheek gently. A stark contrast to the kiss they were in which was wet, rough, and fast. He trailed his tongue over her lip which she gladly accepted. Their tongues danced together lazily as sweat began to build up on both of them. She pulled away partly, a trail of spit connecting them.

“Take this dumb ass jacket off. It’s the middle of July.” She grumbled as she began to unzip it, leaving him in some muggle band shirt she had gotten him one year from the states. She leaned back in, continuing to move her hips to the beat of the song. Neville began to move his hips up to match her movements. “Oh? So you got moves now huh? Who taught you those?”

“Don’t play dumb petal, you know you did.” He responded before gripping at her neck with his ringed hand. She gasped softly, looking into his blood shot blown out eyes. The music, the lighting, his touch? It was all much too much to handle. Her senses were overloaded by pleasure, the jane in her system. He tightened his hand some, leaning in closer. “You’re driving me absolutely mad, darling. Do you know that? I’d do anything you asked me to.” the movement of her hips had stilled but he kept going. She could feel the imprint of his member through his pants. Suddenly it was the only thing (Y/n) could focus on.

“Them Ravenclaw girls weren’t lying then, huh? You packin like that Nev?” she said suddenly. She knew he had asked her something a second ago, but the weed was really starting to hit. Her brain was foggy and hazed, the only thing she could think about now was him. She took one of her manicured hands, trailing it down his shirt till she reached his crotch. She gripped it in her hands, eyes widening slightly. He chuckled softly, catching her attention.

“Don’t act so surprised. You know I used to get around quite a bit.” He said, moving so his tent was resting against her inner thigh.

“Used to?” she questioned, laying her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. She took in his scent sighing softly. Neville always smelled like a mix of lavenders, cologne, and that loud. She knew it from anywhere, especially when she smelled it in the amortentia they brewed during potions that one time.

“Yeah I don’t really pipe girls like I used to.” He moved his hands up, embracing her close as he kissed the top of her head. “Ever since a certain pesky little American girl started making their way into my life, she’s all I could think about.” she rolled her eyes some, punching him on the arm as he began to laugh.

“Don’t fuck around like that, that shit aint even funny.” she grumbled, pouting as she crossed her arms. “I thought you had an actual answer!”

“On god that was my actual answer, (Y/n)! You asked why and I told you why. Absolutely anyone could tell I’m mad for you.” Neville said as he uncrossed her arms, holding her small delicate hands in his large ones. He intertwined their hands, her sharp acrylic nails digging into his hands slightly. “Did you know when Keaton Willis asked you to Hogsmeade, I was so mad that I wouldn’t sell to him for 3 months?!”

“But I didn’t even go with him! Me and you went together to go get ice cream, remember?”

“So?! He still fucking asked you. I’m getting heated just thinkin’ about it.” He mumbled as he looked away from her. He pulled her closer, resting his head on the top of hers. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you dating such a loser. He’s not even a good guy and he’s always fucking short with his galleons when he buys. I have to practically hound the guy for my money. Yknow what? Fuck it.” he looked up at the brown skinned girl before holding her face in both his hands. He took in her features. Her plump lips, edges laid to perfection, face ‘beat to the gods’ as she would say. “Go out with me. Be my girl, petal. I can’t bear you not being mine for another second.” he said. She pretended to ponder for a bit before she looked back at him.

“Depends, will I get free weed? I expect free weed from dating the weed man, you know.” she said with a giggle. He rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“You already get free weed! Don’t pretend you don’t.” he said loudly, catching the others’ attention.

“What? Nev that’s not fair! You always make me pay and we’re mates! What happened to bros befo-”

“Ron you finish that and you ain’t leavin this shed with an eye, I can promise you that boy.” she whipped her head around quickly, glaring at the boy. Ron quickly shut his mouth knowing first hand that her promises were never empty. He gulped slightly before nodding, turning back to Hermione who handed him the bong muttering something about how he looked like he needed it.

“But to answer your question, Nev baby, I’d love to be your girl. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than doing so.” (Y/n) leaned forward, leaving a lip gloss print on his cheek. 

“Well I’m glad you said yes because it would’ve been very awkward explaining to everyone tomorrow where that hickey on your neck came from.”

“Nev!”

[mha-princess]

Don’t Let Me Be | Bakugou x Reader

Genre:Angst | Tea Shop AU | stranger to lovers | Oneshot/Ongoing | eventual smut

Word Count: 1.2k+

Warnings: mentions of depression/sadness/sickness

Summary: as the seasons change you stand at the counter unmindful and aloof, but when a boy enters the shop you cease your boredom and take his order. But every second he draws. closer an overwhelming sadness fills the room. Interested by him to try your best to befriend him a figure why this boy is so sad.

A/N: just like my previous oneshots if you would like me to continue this story a comment, reblog, or a like is appreciated! ⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Song recommendation for this fic - Song Request by Lee Sora

The faint scent of boiling herbs filled the small oak shop as the last reminants of winter faded away outside of its wooden walls. A slow somber ballad flowed from the small speaker at the back of the shop, filling the space with a indescribable melencholy. The transition from winter to spring was always a weird one? It was almost as if the weather dictated your mood.

Well whatever it was your shift was going by unspeakably slow. But to be fair it wasn’t all that bad, the tea shop provided a very calming setting to cope with the ever changing ordeals of life. The shop was never empty but it was never unbearably busy either. On occasion a couple would sit and have a cuppa but most of the time people ordered their teas to go.

The door of the old shop is pushed open with minimal force, the ringing of the bell shifting your attention to the direction of the sound. In lumbered a boy, his clothes baggy and oversized as if he were trying to fend off the dying cold, his hair colored a light blond creating a perfect contrast to his red irises, and the expression on his face unclear due to the the scarf wrapped firmly around his neck slightly covering his mouth.

“How may I help you today?” you question, grabbing ahold of a sticky note to take down the order.

The boy’s eyes gloss over the menu before he responds, his voice muffled by the scarf. “I’d like to have a chamomile tea.”

“Sorry,” you shake your head, “can you repeat that for me?”

He hesitates before pulling the scarf down. “Can I have a chamomile tea?”

“For here or to go?”

“Uh,” he glances around the shop before going back to looking off to the side, “here is fine.”

“Your total is five dollars and eight cents, you can sit wherever and I’ll bring you your tea when it’s ready. Can I get your name?”

“Katsuki,” He answered, handing you the exact amount of change before walking off to find a seat.

As you dip the tea bags into the steaming kettle, the once transparent water slowly turns a dark green. You then advert your attention from the tea to the boy who had just entered the shop.

He’s seated by a glass window, his shoulders slumped and his arms appeared to be wrapped in a cris cross form around his stomach as if the abundance of clothes weren’t keeping him warm enough. His eyes were glued to the outside scenery, which in your opinion wasn’t very pleasant.

The trees still weren’t fully resurrected from the harsh winter, a months worth of snow was just now succumbing to the rising (yet still low) temperatures, and the wind tumbled the streets litter up and down the cracked sidewalks. Why would that be captivating to anyone?

The kettle whistles indicating that the tea is done. With caution you pour the tea into a porcelain cup top it off with mint leaves and plate it on a saucer. Carefully you walk over to the table and set the tea infront of the unmindful boy.

“Order for Katsuki,” You state, pushing the saucer towards the boy but he still doesn’t notice your presence. Involuntarily you let your hands reach out to tap his shoulders. The male inhaled sharply as if you had just caused him physical pain. Startled by the noise he just made his eyes find yours to see if he had scared you any but he quickly looks away, unable to make eye contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“No im sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. I just don’t think you heard me the first time, which is fine.” you smile softly, looking around the shop to see if there were and unsuspecting customers, “Would it be a problem if I sat with you? Buisness is kind of slow today.”

He shrugged before allowing himself to nod yes. Upon sitting down you were able to get a closer look at his features. His lips were chapped, molded into what seemed to be a frown and the underside of his eyes seemed to be a light shade of gray.

Your eyes follow his movements as he reaches out to grasp the handle of the tea cup. As his fingers slip from the cuff of his hoodie you notice that his hands appear to be covered in this scratches and welts. His fingertips were also lined with callous skin.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You warn, watching the boys lip curl to blow the liquid. After taking a sip he sets the cup down and looks out the window once more. It’s was clear that if you wanted a conversation you’d have to try harder.

“So how’d you hear about this place? You look pretty young and people like us don’t come here often.” You smile turning your gaze towards the window. The boy swallows before answering your question.

“I use to live in the neighboring city. I moved here not too long ago but a lady used to tell me about it. She-,” the boy pauses, “ She always wanted to visit here.” His voice drawn to that of a mere mutter as he finishes his statement.

“Does she not live around here?” you question.

“Something like that,” The sullen look on his face growing even sadder as his arms go back to caressing his sides. You had clearly just unintentionally hit a nerve. You refrain from asking anymore questions, and just sit and watch the rain drops pitter across the window sill. The musical ballad filling the silence between you too.

“It’s raining again outside the window. These moments make me think of you. I can’t sleep. This silence and the melancholic sound of my heart fill the room. Making me go crazy. So I turn up my radio. Somewhere, I hear someone’s voice. And on the radio. That sad story is so much like my own.”

As the hour fades and closing time nears the boys eyes never move from the window. And the longer you looked at him the more you felt a solace form in your heart. An overwhelming sadness had you firmly seated, unable to leave. Maybe it was the clothes he wore that were clearly there for comfort or maybe it was the way his eyes told a sorrowful story.

In a last ditch attempt to get the boy to talk to you, you dish one more question. “Do you think you’ll come back sometime? Like it doesn’t have to be tomorrow or anything, I just think it’ll be nice for us to have some tea when I’m not on the clock then maybe we can go to a bakery or something, since your not familiar with this town? I could show you around.”

The boys sits firmly in the seat, his eyes still glued to the window. His expression never changing.

“You don’t have to answer right now.” you add, “It was just a suggestion.”

The boy turns and gives you nod he then reaches into his wallet to leaves you a tip, before rising to leave. He mumbles a quick thank you before exiting the shop.

“What could have someone that out of it?” You question grabbing the cup of green liquid. “He didn’t even drink much of his tea.”

“That tea was damn disgusting.” Katsuki says caressing the matte photograph. The picture showcasing two people,there’s a older female, smiling her hand placed on a younger boys head whose looking at the camera in distain. The once matted photo slowly becoming glossy with the tears of its beholder.

“You old hag. We were suppose to go to that shop as a family.” he choked, the saltiness of tears entering his mouth.

“If you don’t get well soon, I’ll lose it,” he sobs clenching the photo between his fingers.

“I’ll lose it.”

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