#bend him over that fucking bench he’s sitting on

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle from Hell (2)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: After the events of PART ONE, Robin goes shoe shopping; Steve's mental health is in shambles; Nancy is trying to save her relationship; you're feeling lost; and Eddie is trying to be the bigger person.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; drinking; Robin literally just trying to live her life but her friends are all idiots

A/N: Thank you all so so much for all the love you have been showing to part one. You all had me so motivated to write this next part for you. I never manage to get things written this quickly, it's insane. So much appreciation to you all who took the time to read and let me know how you liked it- the comments and reblogs mean so much to me! Thank you!

Please let know who you think our girl should end up with ;)

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

You didn’t ever think about a future in which you didn’t feel the way you felt about Steve. It was something that you always viewed as this absolute truth. It was unavoidable. The sun would rise and fall and you would love Steve Harrington. But now, the world feels like it’s crashed, burned and raised from the ashes. A new reality- a new future to be written. Maybe, just maybe, you would see a future for yourself without Steve. It was such a simple thought- but you couldn’t have seen it before.

While you’re coming to terms with your new reality that Eddie tore open with both hands, Steve feels the weight of the crash all around him. It’s everywhere, more specifically, you’re everywhere. He felt like he’s lost everything. In her reconciliation with Jonathan, Nancy pulled Steve aside that night and said she thought it best if they don’t hang out for awhile. He nodded, jaw tightened, but he understood. 

Eddie isn’t not talking to him, but there’s awkward tension in the apartment. They both pretend that it isn’t there but the air is thick with it. The proverbial beans have been spillt. Eddie’s in love with you, and Steve shouldn’t care about it as much as he does. Eddie goes about his days padding around the house. He’ll strum guitar and clean the kitchen and go on like nothing happened. Steve’s been avoiding him, not knowing at all what to say. There isn’t anything to say- not really. But still, the walls between them are undeniably there. 

Robin is all Steve has to confide in right now, telling her all about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past few weeks since the night of what they’ve been calling “the incident.” He tells her everything- his confusion in his feelings towards you, the way he misses his friendship with Nancy, his irrational harbouring resentment toward Eddie. He tells her all of it. She listens and doesn’t judge- well, maybe she does judge. But, it’s coming from a place of love! 

“What do you think?” she asks, stomping around in circles. She looks down at the new Adidas on her feet, thinking about how dirty the white sneakers are going to get almost immediately. Steve is sitting on the little bench in the shoe store with his head in his hands. “I hate them,” she complains, “I hate new shoes. I hate buying jeans. It all sucks.”

Like a parent would, Steve leans down and presses his fingertips down on the toe of the shoe. “These are too small,” he points out. He turns to the box at his side, handing her the next size up. “These will probably feel better.” She snatches the show from his hand, kicking off the pair she’s wearing. 

“Fucking Munson,” she scoffs. “New fucking shoes,” she mutters, bending over to slide the next pair on. Steve smirks to himself when he sees the relief wash over Robin’s face. It’s the undeniable look of pure comfort. “Oh,” she says shyly, “these feel really nice.” 

“What am I gonna do?” he asks, disheartened looking up at Robin. She sighs, pushing the empty box next to him on the floor so she can take its place. 

“What do you want?” she asks, “Do you actually like her?”

“I might,” he admits, “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about her that way before. I could see it, maybe.”

“I don’t think you should do anything,” Robin advises, “Just sort out all the shit in your head. You are only just beginning to let yourself get over Nancy- jumping into a mess between your best friends is not the thing to do right now. Sort yourself out- get some Vitamin D, eat a vegetable- do something besides sit in your room and sulk.” 

“I’m here now,” he tries to argue and Robin scoffs. 

“You’re here cause you ran out of excuses when you kept cancelling on me,” Robin points out. She looks at her feet one more time. She then looks to Steve with a look of absolute utter defeat. “I think I’m gonna get these.” She gets up and kicks them off. Steve watches as she puts them back in the box. “I’m not gonna wear them around Eddie though,” she says with a scoff, heading towards the register like she got the one up on him. 

Eddie remembers the first time he saw you. He’d been reflecting back on it a lot the past few weeks after everything that has happened. He’s having trouble wrapping his head around how he got from there to here. What was a innocent high school crush has blossomed into such an intense love that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The feeling is almost too big for him to carry- which is probably the reason for his outburst that night. 

It has been Eddie’s junior year, making it your sophomore year. You’d been in the drama club and occasionally rehearsal would run late- meaning Hellfire would start late since they used the Theater room as well. Usually, Drama Club rehearsed Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday- making the room available for Hellfire on Friday. However, as productions got closer to the opening night, theater kids and band geeks would end up flocking to the room for Hell Week- extra rehearsals, last minute set adjustments, all running out the clock to the big night. It would run into Fridays, pushing Hellfire back despite Eddie reserving the room. The one thing he actually did to follow the rules. 

You felt ridiculous in your costume. Your Juliet dress had you sticking out when you weren’t in the midst of the sets and reciting your lines. The long fabrics of the Renaissance inspired costume followed behind you as you darted from one side of the school to the other. You needed last minute fixes to the hem of your dress and the veil of your head crown. You only a few minutes before you were expected at rehearsal, left with no choice to run from the home ec classroom to the theater. 

Eddie and the rest of Hellfire stood begrudgingly behind the stage, too stubborn to find another location for their meeting. He swears that you ran by him in slow motion to make your cue. Like a runaway bride from his fantasy novels, it was like you were plucked from one of his fantasies and graced his world with your presence. He was enamored. You looked exactly like a princess. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Gareth had elbowed him to snap him out of it. He knew from that moment when he looks back, he was in love with you. He rubbed his ribs where he was struck and stayed hidden backstage to watch the whole performance. 

Steve can’t even remember the first time you met. You were something that was always there, and something he’s realized now that he’s taken for granted. You remember, you remember it all. It was still so vivid to you. It was a start to your everything. 

Kindergarten was an overwhelming experience for Steve. Specifically drop-off, but he doesn’t remember now. You remember waiting with your mom and you held her hand tightly, while you waited for your teacher to escort you and your new classmates into school. You noticed Steve, across the play yard, but your head tilted in confusion that he was without a grown-up to send him off. 

You immediately shook yourself free from your moms embrace and skipped confidently over to the little boy. 

“Do you wanna be best friends?” You asked abruptly, it was all you needed. The simplicity of making friends when your six is a beautiful thing. He nodded, and you took his hand in yours so he didn’t walk in alone. The two of you were inseparable ever since. Until high school rolled around and changed everything. 

The Steve you knew was different than the Steve that ruled the halls of Hawkins High back in the day. When it was the two of you, it was like how it always was. But at school, it was like he was an entirely new person. Reinvented and repackaged, King Steve’s reign was legend. Had it not killed you a little inside, you’d have been impressed. 

Nancy offered to get lunch together with you shortly after the incident. She valued your friendship and wanted to clear the air. You felt the same. Your feelings towards Steve never hindered how highly you thought of Nancy. The two of you became friends amidst the era of King Steve, shortly before they began dating. 

“I wanted you to know that had I known,” Nancy says, stirring the milk in her coffee, “I would have never went out with Steve.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, Nance,” you reassure her. “You liked him and he liked you back, of course you guys should have dated. I don’t resent that- I just… I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want this to affect us,” she reiterates.

“It won’t, it hasn’t- honestly,” you reply sincerely. “I never hated you. I can’t lie and say I wasn’t very jealous- because I was, still am a little maybe. It wasn’t because of you- it was just because it wasn’t me.” 

“I understand,” she comforts you. You both share a smile and you appreciate her for coordinating this sit down. It felt good to confide in her. It was something you shouldn’t have bottled up and dealt with alone. Talking with Nancy felt like taking breaths of fresh air. 

You’d walked home after lunch, declining Nancy’s offer for a ride. The cafe was close enough to your and Robin’s apartment that you could manage without getting too cold. Trudging up the front steps, you had your hood up to keep yourself warmer. It also hindered your vision so you didn’t see the figure on the front porch swing until you were right at your front door. 

“Steve?” You ask, taken aback. You didn’t expect to see him- though you supposed he’d be wanting to talk about it all eventually. You sigh, bracing yourself for the one conversation you absolutely did not want to have. 

“Hey,” he shivers, keeping his hands bunched into his jacket plackets. 

“Come on up,” you offer, unlocking your front door. He graciously accepts, darting in out of the cold as fast as possible. He had to have been waiting awhile. “Robin is at work right now, but you can wait for her,” you say, as you both make it to the top of the stairs to your third floor apartment. 

“I came to see you, actually,” he admits. 

“I was afraid of that,” you joke, and it makes you a little happy when he chuckles. You both know how hard this conversation is going to be. 

You both shrug off your warm layers and leave them in the entry way. You kick off your boots and shove your hat and gloves into the sleeve of your jacket. You try your best to tame your hair. You walk with your arms crossed and take a seat on your couch. Steve tentatively follows and sits on the opposite end. You both sit in uncomfortable silence for what felt like ages. 

“How long?” He finally asks, and you can’t help but cringe. It felt so impersonal, and like a subtle attack. Like you were in the wrong for keeping something from him. He sounds hurt. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh, your face in your hands. “Probably at least since we were in like second grade, maybe.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he questions, and you feel dejected. 

“I don’t know- maybe cause you dated someone new constantly,” you accuse, flipping it back to him. You weren’t going to take the blame for this. “When we got to high school, you pursued so many girls- you were on a date every weekend! When did you expect me to say when you showed interest in literally everyone but me? Do you expect me to say I should’ve said something when you were with Nancy?” 

“No… shit, I don’t know,” he mumbles. He had no right to be upset, you resolved. “I just, I feel bad that you didn’t think you could tell me.” 

“I couldn’t risk losing you,” you admitted. “I’d much rather be heartbroken with you in my life than heartbroken without you.” 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he’s not sure why he’s suddenly so quiet. “I just- fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

You both sit there, quietly, looking anywhere except each other. You bite the inside of your mouth nervously, you don’t know what to say. You notice he’s not saying I was so stupid. I love you, I always have. You’ve learned the hard way by now to not expect that from him. You can’t let your expectations of him dictate the future of your friendship. 

“It’s okay, you know,” you finally say across the silence. “I don’t want you to think this changes anything.” 

This changes everything! He wants to exclaim. You’re right there, closer than you’ve been in weeks. Yet you still feel so far away, so unattainable. He feels as though you’re treating him like a stranger, and he hates feeling like this. 

“I’m not in love with Nancy,” he confesses. “I thought it was what I wanted, but now I don’t know what I want.” 

“Don’t give me false hope to make me feel better, Steve,” you sigh. “That’s not fair.” 

Robin bursts through the door in a whirlwind of chaos. She’s shedding her layers as she recounts a terrible interaction she had with a customer at work. She kicks off her Adidas, not bothering to put them in the shoe rack and she lets her jacket lay on the floor for now. 

“Anyways, this guy starts yelling at me because he didn’t like Risky Business like I wrote and starred in the damn thing so I’m like ‘Sir, I didn’t make the movie’  and then he gets he gets even more pissed that won’t give him a free rental. I can’t do that! What makes him think I can just wave a magic wand a pull a perk like that out of my- oh fuck. H-hey Steve…. I didn’t know you were here.” 

He stands up abruptly, “I was just leaving.” Before either you or Robin have a chance to say anything else. He’s stumbling over putting on his shoes and falling into his jacket on the his way quickly out the door. 

“What the hell was that?” Robin asks, turning to you. 

“I have no idea.” You say earnestly. 

“He’s so fucking stupid I swear to god,” she rolls her eyes and heads past you into the kitchen. She decided to keep her commentary at that. You escape to your room so you can process what the hell just happened. 

“Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” Steve hits his palms against his steering wheel in frustration. “SHIT!” 

He completely fucked that up. 

When you had a problem of this measure that bothered you, you’d call Steve. Or, you’d call Eddie. Neither option is one you felt was viable right now. You didn’t want to annoy Robin with it anymore than you’d had already- you’re sure she’s sick of everyone going to her. You have a bad habit of assuming you’re a burden when your anxiety spikes like this. 

“Hey, Nance. I, uh, was just calling to-“

“Steve, please- we talked about this.” 

He knew this was going to happen. But he couldn’t stop himself as he dialed her number. He knew he was supposed to stay away and give her and Jonathan space. How is he supposed to move on when he lost the one person he could call to talk about this? Steve felt Nancy understood him better than anyone- or at least at one point she did. 

She hangs up before Steve gets a chance to say anything. He drops the receiver back onto the base. He lays back on the couch and takes some slow breaths. He can’t imagine that you all ended up here. After everything you all survived, this is what’s pulling you all apart. 

Why the fuck did he call Nancy? Deep down he knows he wants to just talk to you but he just can’t right now. His brain is too congested with everything that’s come to light and it’s all such a scary, unfamiliar plane. Nancy is his familiar- it’s what he knows. He’s realizing maybe he didn’t actually pine for Nancy but instead he was yearning for that stability he once felt. He’s mourning the time for when it felt like he had absolutely everything. 

It hits him all at once- like a huge wave that knocks you out when you’re bracing yourself to jump. He wanted it all back- fucking King Steve. Not the parties and the fucking assholes. He wanted to feel that way again. He wanted how he felt when he had a girlfriend who loved him and close friends he could walk the halls with. He missed when his life felt easy and he missed how easy it feels now compared to this. He wanted his life back- it wasn’t Nancy that he wanted- not really. He wanted to feel that way again and he was mourning his youth despite the imperfections. 

He thought of you again, as he turned his body to stare at the phone. He knows he should call, and do his best to make you feel better. He needed you to understand that he understands so much more now than he did. The bigger picture is revealing itself more to him and he actually fucking gets it. Out of everything that has changed, you never did. It all feels so painfully obvious now. How could he have not seen it? 

“Sup, man,” Eddie says casually, coming home from work. Taking off his jacket reveals that his coveralls are covered in a huge grease stain. Kicking off his work boots, he doesn’t wait for Steve to reply as he heads to the bathroom to shower. “You wanna get Chinese tonight?” he calls from the other room. Steve gulps and sits up, trying to shake himself out of it. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.”  

A few minutes later, Eddie emerges from the bathroom and steam from his shower wafts out into the hallway. 

“We’re good, right?” Eddie asks. He wants to say yes. Eddie did nothing wrong and Steve deep down knows it. He knows his resentment he’s harbouring is completely unfair- but it is running down to his core. 

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Steve says, trying his best to fake it. They aren’t good. Steve doesn’t know if they’d ever be good. Eddie knows it too. He knows Steve too well to know that he isn’t actually good. Eddie doesn’t fight it.

“I’ll get over it,” Eddie said. “Well, that’s a fucking lie. But, I can tell myself I can get over it.” Steve looks at him, confused. “If you and her want to be together, if you like her back- I’ll step down.”

“Why are you even saying that?”

“Because I want her to be happy more than anything else, and if I’m not that guy- I’m just getting in the way of that,” he confesses, and Steve can hear the hurt in his friend’s voice. “If you actually want to go for it- I’m not what’s stopping you, man.” 

The phone breaks through the solemn moment the two of them share. Eddie looks to Steve and Steve shrugs before picking up the receiver. 

“Hello?” He says, and he smiles to himself as he recognizes the voice on the other end. Then, Eddie watches as his friend’s face falls again- all in a brief few seconds. “It’s for you,” he says, dropping the receiver on the table for Eddie to get. Steve disappears down the hall and seeks refuge in his room.

“Hey,” Eddie says, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, it’s me,” he hears you say. Suddenly, Steve’s reaction makes a lot of sense. 

TAGLIST: @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt

[cardinal-baenitez]

Okay enough time has passed I think John Locke forgiving Ben just like that was such bullshit he should’ve fucked him senseless as revenge or something

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (gym owner+ your personal trainer Simon)

Simon notices you the moment you step into the gym. nervous, pretty, looked entirely out of place. He greets you with a nod and a gruff “Hello” when you saunter to the counter and look up at him timidly. Gleaming doe eyes meeting his and a bit intimidated by his presence.

“I want…want to sign up for the course…” your voice comes out soft and quiet, still a bit scared by the wall of man in front of you. His lips curl upward slightly, though his schedule is pretty tight already, but he doesn’t mind squeezing time out just for a cute and beautiful girl like you.

“The only time I’m free now is 21:00.” Simon said, asking if you’re okay with it, and you agree without a doubt. This is the gym closest to your place, and has the highest rating among others, you don’t mind if the session will start a bit later in the night.

He’s a great personal trainer, like the what the comments say on the internet. He’s meticulous, knows how to effectively improve your stance. You’re not sure if it’s normal for personal trainers to stand this close when you’re squatting, so close that you can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath fanning on the nape of your neck. maybe he just wants to make sure you won’t accidentally hurt yourself, you think to yourself after few sessions with him.

Simon can’t forget the first session, you step into the gym with the sports bra and gym shorts, hair tied into a high bun that shows off your flawless neck, he wonders how smooth it will feel when he runs his fingers along it. His chest touches your rear when you’re lifting weights, “In case your grip slips.” He tells you when he sees the confusion in your eyes. His eyes glued on your hips when you just finished few reps of lying leg curls, ass cheeks so nice and supple, you breathe a bit fast as you keep lying on the training machine, unaware of him try not to form a boner from ogling at your moist lips and the contours of your body.

You’re a bit frustrated with the progress you made so far, asking him if you’re not working hard enough. Your slight pout is too adorable, and he resists the urge not to swipe his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re doing alright, give your body some time to build muscles.” Simon reassures you, but he can still see the chagrin on your face. You’re stressed out, he can tell, and as your personal trainer, it’s his job to help his student unwind, yeah?

The disappointment and anxiety are thrown to the back of your mind when he sits on the bench in front of the mirror, two fingers deep inside you, twirling and pressing the gooey spots with you moaning on his lap.

“Look at the mirror, sweetheart, look how beautiful you look when your little pussy’s swallowing my fingers.” His other hand move to your chin, turn your head towards the mirror. You can see his smug smile even with that disposable mask on, his fingers shoved deep into your cunt, bring out your profuse juices when he drags his fingers out. The scene is too embarrassing, your cheeks flush with arousal and shyness when you shift your gaze away from the mirror.

“Look at the mirror, love.” His tongue clicks twice, tone firm without any space for you to reject, so you obediently look back, let out a high-pitched sweet whine as you watch how his cock sinks into your tight cunt, pussy lips pushed aside to fit his fat cock. “Fucking pussy so tight, so perfect…fuck…” He inhales deeply, landing a soft swat on your bum and makes you yelp at the comfortable sting.

He definitely didn’t choose to schedule your session this late, that no one will be in gym except you two, so he can bend you over every surfaces here and fuck you till you squirt all over the nearest wall. His hips never cease, shows you how much stamina and strength he has as the best personal trainer. Pinning you over the machine you did lying leg curls, the angle of the it allows your ass to arch up and let him drive his pierced cock deeper, each piercings knead and glide through your spots one by one every time he slams his hips back.

When your thighs’ twitching even harder than they were after your leg days, you looking up at him with dazed eyes, entirely blissed out from how many mind blowing orgasms he gave you, Simon lifts you up again, easily maneuver you to hook your knees over his elbows, he pushes his cum-drenched dick inside again, still rock hard and ready to wrench yet another release from your heavenly cunny. He walks you to the mirror again, every steps makes his hips bucks and cock thrust up in the force, and all you can do is moan and whimper. “too much, too much Simon…”

But He only huffs out a laughter at your words while he stops in front of the mirror, giving you the full view to the reflection—your fucked dumb expression, thighs spread widely and supported by his strong arms, pussy swollen and clit peaks out from the folds, yet your tight walls still massaging his cock nicely as if you’re trying to please him.

“So perfect, princess. look just right when you’re in my arms.” Simon presses a kiss to your shoulder, adjust his grip and let your weight help him to reach the deepest, the tip of his shaft rest against your cervix. “Let’s have the next round on the leg press machine, yeah? I know you hate doing leg press the most, maybe you’ll be more pliant the next time, because you know how I’ll make you soak that seat after the session ends, hmm?”

[slytherinslut0]

teasing. | syltherin boy headcanons

author’s note: based on a request i received. i am feral.

- your boyfriends reaction to you teasing him under the table at dinner.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been in a proper fowl mood all day, and you could tell he was stressed, a clear mixture of a million different things floating through his mind.

You were literally counting down the seconds until you could finally be alone with him, but dinner was fucking dragging.

Sitting next to him, you couldn’t help but to sneak continual glances at him, noting his silver eyes darkened to a deep shade of grey, the tension in his jaw practically palpable as he stared at his plate like he could hex it into another dimension.

Just looking at him made your breath quicken, made your pulse soar.

Of course, part of you empathized with his shitty day, but the other part of you wanted to get on your knees for him right then and there--

because, undeniably so, he’s at his fucking sexiest when he’s pissed.

As Pansy’s chipper voice filled the air, yammering away to a blissfully blazed Zabini, both of them seated across from you and your boyfriend, an idea sparked in your mind.

Without hesitation, you scooted closer to him, subtly enough to not draw any attention to yourself, but enough for Draco to shoot you a side-eyed glance, eyebrow raised.

Feeling his eyes on you, you kept your gaze on your plate as you brushed your hand against his thigh, testing his reaction.

You could practically hear him swallow, could practically feel his body tense, and you’d try not to smirk.

Thrilled, you’d inch your fingers further, tracing small patterns along the middle of his thigh before trailing upwards.

He’d shift on the bench, the veins in his hands tensing as he tightened his grip on his fork.

His reactions would fuel your fire, and you’d keep going, grazing over his crotch, and he’d groan, stifling it with a cough instantly, and that’s when he’d had enough.

Shifting his hand, he’d grasp your thigh, now--with an intensity in his grip so strong you’d almost squeal. A silent warning.

He’d lean in, his voice darker than the midnight sky as he’d whisper, “you’re lucky I have some dignity…but keep it up and I’ll bend you over this fucking table right now, in front of everyone.”

your grin would be unmissable, and you’d only make it another few minutes before he dragged you away from the table and back to his dorm.

Blaise Zabini.

Blaise was literally just eating. And that’s all it took.

That’s all it took for you to want him, to damn-near need him, right then and there.

He’d been flirty with you all morning, making you swoon over his every word with his typical Zabini charm, as though he was still trying to win you over.

You found yourself giggling like a goddamn first year more times than you could even begin to count while he was around, and it drove you crazy, in the best way.

You couldn’t help it, you just always wanted to be near him, kissing him, touching him. He just made you feel that needy. Effortlessly.

And that feeling carried over throughout the entirety of your day, and didn’t falter at dinner. Oh, not even in the slightest.

If anything, it intensified.

Just watching him, in his own little world, focused on his food, casually chiming into the conversation every now and then between bites--it just did something to you. Something you couldn’t explain.

The way the veins in his hands tensed with each movement, the confident aura that surrounded him, regardless of what he was doing, was just fucking intoxicating.

And so, while caught in a moment of both mental and sexual tension, you discreetly placed your hand on his thigh while continuing to eat, feigning innocence as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Blaise looked over, immediately, and you could practically feel the smirk on his lips.

But then, with his typical Zabini composure, he’d go back to eating, letting you keep your hand there.

As you dared to inch higher, he’d seamlessly continue conversing with his friends, as if entirely unaffected by your advances.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, and to anyone else, it’d seem as though nothing out of the ordinary was transpiring.

At this point, you’d be completely convinced that you were enjoying this more than he was.

But then, as you’d get close to his crotch, dangerously close, he’d lean in, his voice so deep it’d send chills down your spine.

“You better stop.”

You’d grin, slowly moving higher, looking at him with innocent eyes. “Or what?”

“You just wait until I get you alone, babygirl…” he’d smirk, wetting his lips. “I’ll get you back real fucking good.”

Lorenzo Berkshire.

Lorenzo bloody Berkshire; your absolutely sexy, tease of a boyfriend.

Earlier, you had been paired together for an assignment in class, which had turned out to be the most infuriating part of your day.

Enzo was relentless in his teasing; partially because he couldn’t keep his fucking hands off of you, but also because he just loved getting a rise out of you.

All class he’d stared at you with those big brown eyes, biting on his fucking lip as he smirked at you, pressing his crotch against your ass as the two of you gathered supplies for the assignment, acting like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

By dinner, your head was spinning, your nerves were shot, and you were more than determined to get him back.

And you’d do just that; finding your perfect opportunity while he was casually eating, not really paying you much attention.

You’d shift closer to him, resting your chin on your palm as you fixed your gaze on him, smirking a devilish smirk.

“So, Enz, what do you think of the new charms professor?”

You’d inquire, your voice like honey as it slipped past your lips, your fingers brushing against his leg in unison.

As soon as your hand connected with his thigh, he’d freeze, not daring to look at you, but stalling his movements completely, staring down at his plate as though it’d just grown two legs and spoke to him.

You’d grin, pulling your lip between your teeth in an attempt to hide it, watching him as he’d slowly resume his chewing, his breath coming in shallower bursts as you inched higher, excruciatingly slow.

“I-uh…he’s, he’s good-“ he’d stammer, his voice cracking, clearing his throat to mask it. “Thorough.”

“Oh, thorough, huh?” You’d tease, grin widening. “Why don’t you elaborate on that?”

His jaw would tense, his lids fluttering shut for the briefest moment as you grazed his crotch, adding pressure as to really get back at him, to really give him a taste of his own damn medicine.

He’d be flustered, undoubtedly, but he wouldn’t dare stop you, playing it off until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Then he’d lean in, softly setting his fork down as to not arouse any suspicion.

“My dorm, right now.” He’d practically beg. “I fucking need you.”

Mattheo Riddle.

Teasing Mattheo was not something you did, ever.

Because ‘teasing’, with Mattheo Riddle, was not a concept. It simply did not fucking exist.

You’d attempted it a few times, over your months of dating, and each time you’d found yourself either bent over a table, on your knees for him in a way-too-public location, or edged until you fucking cried/begged for release.

Mattheo never failed to let you know that he’d take you whenever and wherever the fuck he pleased.

‘Don’t poke the dragon’ or ‘let sleeping dogs lie’ ; were very much literal phrases when it came to your boyfriend.

and so you made sure not to tempt him, unless absolutely fucking necessary--However, today, it was more than absolutely fucking necessary.

And why was that, you might ask? Two reasons.

First one being that you’d slept in his dorm last night and woke up late late for class; all thanks to him.

Even though you’d made sure to remind him ten bloody times to set the alarm, he’d somehow still managed to ‘forget’.

And the second one was because he just looked so goddamn fucking sexy, and you were displeased with the fact that you didn’t have time for morning sex.

Regardless, as he was picking at his dinner, looking unbelievably exhausted, you took your chances.

You leaned closer to him discreetly, casually placing your hand on his thigh. He’d instantly tense, legs spreading wider almost involuntarily, grip tightening on his fork.

You’d inch higher, excruciatingly slow, nodding to Blaise as he said something to you, causally entertaining the conversation.

Mattheo’s jaw would tighten, so much it’d genuinely look painful, his head bowing toward the table as you slowly moved upwards.

But then, he’d grow tired of your teasing and grab your wrist, hastily moving it to his dick as he huffed, dropping his fork and running his now-free hand through his hair.

You’d be fuelled on, leaning toward his ear to whisper; “I need you so fucking bad, Matty…”

He’d snuff a groan, his nails digging into your wrist as he continued guiding your hand, guiding you in palming him through his trousers.

“You’re going to regret this, princess…” he’d mutter, his voice torn and laced with promise. “Can’t keep your fucking hands off of me, can you?”

You’d increased your movements, feeling him grow unbelievably hard beneath your fingers, and you’d know he wasn’t bluffing.

“I should bend you over right here, show the boys just what a desperate little slut you are for me….”

You’d smirk, snuffing your giggling, and that would be the last straw. He’d drag you up from the table and fuck you in the nearest closet/empty classroom.

Theodore Nott.

You were fucking bored.

So unbelievably bored that you weren’t sure how much more of it you’d be able to take.

The conversations at the table were about nothing of particular significance, and if you had to endure another second of Enzo’s mindless babbling you were certainly going to be sick.

Theo was seated beside you, aimlessly picking at his food, also looking incredibly bored.

It was not unnoticeable that the two of you were about ready to fall asleep on the damn spot.

In a moment of desperation, you turned to your boyfriend, attempting to spark up a conversation.

“So, what are we planning on doing this weekend?”

As Theo looked up, you’d instantly grow warm, his stormy blue eyes swirling with admiration as he glimpsed your lips, his once flat features beginning to soften.

“Can’t speak for you Bella, but know what I have on the to-do list,” he’d murmur, leaning in for a kiss.

Theo was never one to shy away from PDA.

As your lips met in a quick, soft kiss, you’d smile as he slowly pulled back. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be?”

That’s when you’d put your hand on his thigh, slowly trailing it upwards, instantly causing his eyes to darken, his jaw to tighten.

He’d spread his legs wider, inviting you to keep going, and you’d gladly oblige, palming him eagerly as the two of you held eye-contact intense enough to make you dizzy.

he’d smirk, sucking in shallow breaths as he leaned in for another kiss, muttering against your lips;

“You…you, and you again…”

Someone at the table would playfully groan in disgust and tell you two to get a room, and you’d just laugh before Theo agreed and dragged you back to his dorm.

Tom Riddle.

If you had to listen to one more second of Tom Riddle talking about school related topics, you were going to find the nearest bridge and jump. zero hesitation.

You absolutely loved your boyfriend, loved him to fucking death,

but after he’d spent all afternoon drilling transfiguration concepts into your brain, you honestly just wished he’d drill something else into you, instead.

And by the time dinner rolled around, your brain was mashed potatoes, yet Tom remained completely fucking relentless.

In between bites of food he’d ask you to recite the animagus transformation theory, and when you’d undoubtedly get it wrong, he’d sigh, grabbing the book and reading it back to you.

But no matter how many times he’d repeat it, it didn’t fucking matter, your mind was gone, completely elsewhere.

To be more specific, your mind was lost in a sea of your thoughts, thoughts about Tom’s big strong hands gripping your hips, his strong frame towering over you as he-

Gods, this was complete fucking torture, and you needed it to stop, right now.

Loosening your tie around your neck, you glimpsed him, watching his dark eyes scan the page, watching his long fingers as he pointed at what he was reading to you,

As you undid a few of the buttons on your blouse, your hand fell gracefully, landing on his thigh for support as you leaned over him, looking down at the book,

“Can you repeat that part for me again, Tom?…” you’d murmur, voice a slow drawl, failing to hide your smirk as your felt him tense. “Silly me…I don’t think I heard you correctly…”

Tom would know exactly what you were doing, and at first he’d try to play it off, clearing his throat as he tried to decipher where the fuck he’d left off.

But then, as you continued to inch higher, grazing his crotch, he’d groan, slamming the book shut.

“For Merlin’s sake, you’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?” He’d hiss, the annoyance in his tone mingling with amusement.

“Let’s go before I bend you over the fucking table.”

[blockedbykei]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐖

🏐— tsukishima kei x f!reader

— synopsis: he hates your intelligence in classrooms and you hate his cunnigness at the court. both go at great lengths to defeat each other, but how is it that both of you were the only ones that can help each other be better?

— warnings: swearing, a bit suggestive, enemies to lovers (although kind of enemies)

You slam your paper on his desk.

Tsukishima barely flinches. He removes his headphones and hangs them on his neck, unbothered by your looming presence as he stares blankly at your paper. 96

The corners of his lips tug down, seemingly unimpressed. "Eh."

"Eh? Aw, is little Tsukishima disappointed at himself?"

He looks up at you, stares deeply into your eyes. And for a moment you'd think his domineering gaze would soften as he was overawed by you. But then he smiles, that annoying little shitty, narcissistic smile.

"Actually, not at all (l/n)," his smile is bright, almost genuine, but his sarcasm is radiating. "I got a 98. Not bad, though!"

You swear steam was coming off your body.

"96 at modern Japanese." He says. "Understandable."

"Understandable?!"

"Don't beat yourself up, (l/n). Not everyone's perfect," he leans back. "Not even me. I mean, I'm just being humble. But yeah, not everyone."

"I hate you," you take your paper off his desk.

"Flattered. Really, really flattered. Thank you for hating me, actually. I feel so honored to be hated." He puts his headphones back on and places his elbows on his desk, his chin resting on his joint fists. Tsukishima smiles at you again.

God, his smile is infuriating.

Tsukishima was someone you'd go to great lengths to defeat. He never bothered for your existence when first year began. He didn't even know your name; Didn't even look at your direction. He'd only known it a month later when you were paired to be partners and he decided to be such a condescending brat when he pointed out your handwriting.

At first you ignored it, took it by heart and started organizing your writings on your notes. Then he decided to put all his self-hatred on you and started to discreetly judge you.

Maybe he wasn't even judging you. Maybe he was just staring at your paper, scoffed to himself, shook his head and laughed because you got a better score than him and he was berating himself. But no, he laughed because he thought you were a tryhard and he was a prodigy.

Obviously none of those were confirmed. But he's a man and a man hates it when a woman's happy.

When he smirks you have the urge to rip his lips to pieces.

You walk away from him and sit on your desk, which was actually beside him.

His scent follows your flaring nostrils as you carefully shove your paper between the notebooks in your bag. Tsukishima looks out the window, hiding his smirk, his foot tapping lightly but never making sound. So you put your own headphones over your ears, in hopes to drown out his deafening aura.

🏐 —

"Shit!"

Tsukishima's knees bends the wrong way and almost falls onto his back as he lands on the ground. The ball echoes across the court as it ricochets off the floor. You laugh loudly, and everyone looks at you.

"You're too advanced for the block, idiot!" You say loudly. Yamaguchi giggles.

He rolls his eyes at you as he chases for the ball. Kageyama sits beside you.

"You know he plays horribly when you're here."

"Oh?" You raise a brow. "Is he not used to a girl looking at her?"

Kageyama scratches his nose. "Probably 'cause he hates you."

You laugh lightly. "Kinda nice that I'm here. I get to see him fuck up."

Kageyama snorts. "He feels pressured 'cuz you're here."

"Oh? He said that?"

"No. But I can hear him think."

You laugh and wipe your sweat off. "I'd play with you guys, but his remarks could piss me off and I might, uh, shove that ball up his ass."

When Kageyama laughs again, quite loudly, Tsukishima's head snaps at the bench where you're sitting. Heat rises to his head, his stance losing its usual strength, his arms weakening as he watches you—

Laughing, at some joke you said or Tobio said. Laughing heartily like someone just made the best joke in the world. The way your lips almost reach the wrinkles beneath your eyes. Oh, that's so funny Tobio. You're so funny you should quit volleyball and be a stand up comedian!

He knows you're talking shit about him, too. Idiot. Brat. Showoff.

He had the right to show off. He was better than you.

He was the better thinker; the better scorer.

Tsukishima is better than you.

I'm better than you—

The ball hits the side of his face, his glasses flailing to the side.

The first thing that reaches his ears—your sickening laugh. That monstrous, sadistic guffaw. Tanaka yells from the other side of the court and dives beneath the net to take a look at his face. Nishinoya hovers, hands on his knees, laughing.

"Pay attention, dumbass!" You cuff your hands over your mouth. "Stop daydreaming! It's embarrassing."

He bends to pick his glasses up. Alive, no cracks, frame not broken. He puts it on the bridge of his nose so that he could see your face clearly.

Hideously alluring.

"Do you think of scheming as daydreaming, (l/n)?" his voice, full of disdain, though hidden through feigned sweetness. "Like a child as always. Go back to middle school?"

"Do better at volleyball?"

"I ought to kick the both of you out this court," Daichi says loudly. "Oh wait I can't speak to (l/n) like that. S-sorry!"

Tsukishima sneers, his lips frowning. He approaches the rolling ball, watching as it hits the wall and propells back towards his awaiting feet. When he picks it up, he steals another glance at you talking to Kageyama.

The King and the Brat. The most annoying combination in the entirety of Karasuno campus.

Somehow, seeing you next to Kageyama and being given the nickname as if the two of you were a pair sends a tight rope around his chest that causes it to ache a little. Tsukishima huffs it out, an unsettling in his bones.

Please don't look at me.

The ball flies into the air, and his palm raises just in time to make contact with the ball.

He sees you watch from the corner of his eye, a blurried silhouette, but your figure was familiar enough for him to recognize you. His heart beats a little louder.

🏐 —

No.

Shit. Fuck. No

God damnit. 74.

Tsukishima stares at his paper in horror. In his entire life, he has always gotten two digits on his scores. However, they had always been ninety onwards. Never in the line of sevens. He doesn't know if his horror is displayed across his face. He prays it doesn't—he would die if you saw his expression.

He leans sideways to the right, his eye darting towards the side to peak at your paper.

98.

The english language was something that was easy to learn but never easy in exams. This—despite boasting that english was the easiest subject—was his weakness.

You're too preoccupied to notice his existence. Good.

He turns around to look at the green haired boy.

"Yamaguchi." He whisper-yelled. "Tadashi."

Yamaguchi looks up. "Yes?"

This was it. Years of built up pride, intelligence, boosted ego— down the drain. As soon as he'd ask him the question, it would forever alter the image of himself towards his friend. Tsukishima was no longer the brainy four-eyes of the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

He would now be Tsukishima, the idiot four-eyes.

Maybe I'm overreacting.

He stands up and sits beside the empty chair next to Yamaguchi.

"How- What's your score?"

Yamaguchi looks puzzled as he glances at his paper. "E-eighty eight."

God, this is depressing.

"Um," Tsukishima scratches the back of his neck. "Could you help me with English?"

There it is. His face says it all.

"Don't you even—"

"You, Tsukishima Kei, asking for my help?" He laughs incredulously. "Are you sure? What's your score?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Aw, c'mon Tsukki." He pouts playfully like comforting a weeping baby. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

Tsukishima tells him in a low voice. He never thought he could hate Yamaguchi's laugh. But he did, right after he laughed at his score. It wasn't even a failing grade.

"You know who should tutor you though?" He puts his paper in his bag. "(l/n). She's good, y'know. I heard her speak english once. I thought she was from, uh, some foreign country or something."

"She's not even that good." Tsukishima takes off his glasses and wipes it with the corner of his uniform. "She's good with memory but she forgets it right after the quiz like a ditz."

Yamaguchi snorts. "She's the one who got the best score out of all of us."

"Yeah, no thanks. I'd never let her teach me."

"I think you're forgetting I'm right here in front of you." You turn around, placing your elbow and forearm on the back of your chair and look at Tsukishima. "I can teach you."

Tsukishima scoffs. "No thanks. I'd rather repeat freshman year."

"Are you sure?" you pout, placing your chin on the back of your hand. "I can teach you, little Tsukishima."

"I'm not little."

"Yeah but your brain is."

"Yamaguchi, help me out here."

He can't ask for your help. Never ever. Never will he ever ask for your help. Tsukishima can study this himself. He's always studied by himself. He's never needed anyone, and certainly not you. He was independent, cunning as everyone says. Tsukishima does not need tutors.

Up until now.

"Please help Tsukishima study," Yamaguchi looks at you. "He's too prideful to ask but he really needs your help."

Tsukishima stammers. "T-that's not what I meant!"

"Aw, is this true?" You're taunting him. He feels like a child.

"I can study by myself. Fuck off."

You smile at him. In a way that he can't read. It was soft, almost kind, like you wanted to help him wholeheartedly and wanted his english to improve. Then he looked into your eyes and all the kindness in your smile had been washed away by this pity in your eyes that you enjoyed. Tsukishima huffs.

"No need to be shy about asking for help, little Tsukki," you coo. "We'll study in the locker room while everyone else plays. You're skipping practice today."

Tsukishima zips his bag and stands up. He towers over you, covering the sun that blinds you through the glass window. He looks down at your eyes—teasing, condescending eyes. His lips are turned to a frown, which makes you smile even more.

"I'm not skipping practice."

"Too bad. You are. You know, if you let me help you, you'd stop having that distraught face everytime you get your english paper." You take a step closer, neck bent backwards to look up at him. "Yeah, I saw your face."

Yamaguchi nudges his arm. "C'mon, Kei. Ask for her help. You know you need it. Don't be so prideful."

Tsukishima growls. He doesn't say anything yet, all the confidence in him washed away by a score that wasn't even a failing grade. His palm rubs the space between his eyebrows and mumbles:

"Help me."

You lean in, ear towards him. "Couldn't hear that. Sorry?"

"Help me study."

"Are you commanding me or asking?"

"Please help me study."

"Don't mumble, Tsukishima."

"Damn it!" He groans. "Please help me, dearest (l/n)." His voice drips in sarcasm, peering at you through his scratched lenses. "Help me get a better grade at english. Help me stop myself from strangling you! Idiot!"

You lean back, the bottom of your spine resting on your table as your left hand props you up. Tsukishima is almost seething, his eyes widened a little as his anger seethes through his nostrils. You hum, pretend to think, then slap his right cheek twice lightly.

"How kind of you to ask, little Tsukki." You wrinkle your nose at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "See you at the locker room."

When you leave, his head turns to Yamaguchi who smiles innocently. Tsukishima almost strangles him instead.

🏐—

The boys are thirty minutes late to practice. Including Daichi.

"It's the sequence of the words, Tsukishima," you point your pen at his test paper. "The spelling's no problem. You're good at it. It's just with how you've formed them together."

They all sit behind the two of you, watching silently. Tsukishima is red from embarrassment as he ignores them.

"What's so wrong about this sequence? It sounds correct."

"Just because it sounds correct doesn't mean that it is correct."

Hinata snorts. Tsukishima's head snaps at it. "Don't snort, dumbass. Last time I checked you got a twenty at your exam."

"You hit a nerve there, Shoyo," Kageyama giggles.

You sigh and slap your hands at your thighs. "Sawamura-san, why are you guys even here?"

He stammers, his back straightening as he fixes his bag on his left shoulder. "Jus–Just wanted to make sure you two will be fine. Let's go guys."

When they leave, Tsukishima relaxes in relief. He stares intensely at his notebook, figuring out the correct answer. You try not to laugh at him, but the sight was entertaining; seeing him suffer brought your heart at ease.

"Figured it out, moron?" You bring your own notebook out, flipping it to the last page you'd written on. "It's really not that hard."

"Shut up, (l/n.)" he says. You make a small sound, similar to "okay!" As you begin to write down on a blank page.

And you're like that for a few hours.

Tsukishima answers the questions you've written for him, and when he asks you for help, you cordially help him without telling him the answers. Then you both go back to formidable silence, doing your own perspective works.

He almost enjoys this newfound environment created with you. Somehow, his body is more tranquil, but at the same time his mind is racing, because you're here. Tutoring him. Tsukishima has always believed that he was one step ahead of you, making sure you were unable to catch up with him. But now he's slipped from that step and you've caught up and you're deriding him.

Nonetheless, you're his only hope right now.

He looks at you.

Your hair is tucked behind your ears and your teeth are currently creating dents at the eraser of your pencil. You're concentrating, seeming like you've forgotten that he's sitting in front of you. And Tsukishima's eyes are extremely blurred, but when he looks at you through the gap between his glasses and forehead, your face was somehow clearer.

"Are you a dog?" he raises a brow. "Don't chew on your pencil."

You huff like you're being scold and place your pencil down. But the chewing didn't last a second as your bottom lip is now tucked between your teeth. Tsukishima rolls his eyes.

"Here," he flips his paper and shows it to you. "Did I do it correctly?"

You take the paper from him and read it. He hopes you're at least slightly impressed, that you're not arbitrating his answers nor think they're half-assed. When your red pen moves into a slant, the corner of his lip twitches upwards. But when you circle the number, he has this urge to shove that pen into your eye.

"Hm, not bad. But not enough." you flip the paper.

70.

Four points less.

"Damn it." You can tell he's disappointed at himself. "You suck at teaching."

"Excuse me?!" Your eyebrows furrow. "Hey, I've spent the past four hours teaching you here, stickhead. The sun's almost down!"

"Do you have to go home already?" He asks. You shrug. "Then we can stay here until they're done with practice."

"Tsukishima, I have freshly cooked doburi waiting for me at home. Do you know what donburi is? Do you know what it tastes like while it's still hot? Fucking donburi, Tsukishima." You whine. "Would you like to study at my place instead?"

You seem to not have processed what you've offered, but Tsukishima has. He's surprised at your comment, watching you look so desperate to get home and eat that "fucking donburi." He waits for a moment until you realize and you do, but it seemed like you didn't care when you lean back and raise a brow.

"Well?"

"Sure."

His quick, almost unhesitant compliance surprises you. Tsukishima adjusts his glasses and brings his headphones out as you both head out the door. You lock it behind you, with Tsukishima already walking ahead.

You pass by the gym. "Sawamura, everyone, we're heading out!"

Tsukishima appears beside you. "We're going."

"To where?" Yamaguchi approaches you both. "Are you going to eat out? Ooh, can you bring food back here?"

"We're going to her place to study." He answers. "We can't come back."

The others seem to hear what he said, because Hinata yells: "What kind of studying are you going to do, Stingyshima?"

"Something that your tiny shit-for-brains can't comprehend." He retorts. "Focus on your receives, squirt!"

You wave to everyone and catch a glimpse of Yamaguchi's smile. You roll your eyes at him and poke your tongue out.

🏐 —

The way home was quieter than you expected.

Mainly because Tsukishima had his headphones on and all you hear was your un synchronous footsteps on the stoned sidewalk. You take small looks at your peripherals to see what he's doing. And, well, he's walking... like every other normal person.

But you're walking side by side and there's this space between you that's so close but also so far away. You feel his heat touching the fabric of your shirt, his hand twitching and just barely grazing yours. Then he speaks:

"You walk like a penguin," he says. "Why are you like that?"

"Why are you so annoying?" you roll your eyes. "I don't point out how you walk."

"That's because there's nothing wrong with my walk," he puts his headphones down, hangs them around his neck. "What? Got a stick up your ass or something?"

"I'll stab you with that stick."

"Gross."

You turn a corner and he follows suit like it was normal for him to follow you around. When you stop in front of your gate and unlock it, he bore no unhestiance as he removed his shoes and entered your home.

There was no one else around. And as soon as Tsukishima entered, you disappeared in his vision. Although, he hears you yell from afar: "Set your bag wherever. Stay in the living room though!"

He assumes you're either changing your clothes, getting a bowl of donburi, or both. He obeys, sets his bag on the floor and sits cross legged on the carpet of your living room, taking his notes out. He sees the sun inching away behind the roofs of the houses near by, waiting for you patiently.

And then his eyes roam to picture frames.

Never would he think that a picture of you smiling would be so endearing. That smile of yours, painting you an angelic aura, like people would never expect that you'd be the devil's descendant. Nonetheless, you were still beautiful.

The picture was you in a ponytail, face doused in sweat; the background, although blurry and dark, looked familiar. But Tsukishima was more focused on your gleaming smile, the way your eyes are almost closed and your lips were pale and your teeth were shiny.

"Hey, douchebag," you sit beside him despite the free space on the opposite of the coffee table, setting down two bowls of donburi. And yes, you had changed your clothes into something comfier. "Let's eat and study."

He never expected that you'd get him a bowl, thought that he'd have to ask or drop hints of him wanting donburi. He takes it though, and it is freshly cooked. He now understood your eagerness to go home.

An hour passes by.

The bowls are empty and set aside. Tsukishima's notes are scattered, hair disheveled from him constantly running his fingers through them. That string of hatred between you has been put aside as you both seem to tolerate one another through this session.

"Tsukishima," you say, almost sternly, placing two cartons of strawberry milk on the table. "It's easy to determine an adverb in Japanese. It's no different in identifying it in English."

"I know that, dumbass. What are you, a consciousness?" He takes his box, taking the plastic off the straw and shoving it on the circular foil. "Gimme yours."

He takes your carton and shakes it before doing the same and handing it to you. You blush vehemently, murmuring your gratitude and wrapping your lips around the paper straw.

Tsukishima's eyes wander out of boredom, tracing every corner and every ridge of your home. Until his eyes land on the sliding door to your backyard and catch a glimpse of that familiar blue and yellow ball.

"You play volleyball?" he queries, both his eyebrows raising.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Back in middle school."

"Bet you were shit at it."

"I was a middle blocker."

Tsukishima's back straightens, staring at you in hidden surprise. "At that height?"

"I'm not that short! Asshole," you throw your pen at him. He catches it with ease, setting it beside his notebook.

"Why aren't you in the women's volleyball club, then?" his brow raises. "Too short? They didn't take you? Failed the tryouts?"

You look down at your fingers, covered in peeled up skin and charred fingernails. You feel embarrassed, avoiding his eager stare. You sense his want to know your reason, radiating off his eyes.

"Not saying," you push yourself up, now standing in front of him. Tsukishima's eyes follow you, trailing uo from your thighs up to your neck, his irises darkening until he meets your gaze. "Get up. Time to go home."

"Let's play."

You stammer. "W-what? It's late."

"And I want to see you play." Tsukishima stands, hovering over you. "It's only nine in the evening."

You purse your lips, arms going limp on either side of your tired body. Though despite being worn out, you walk towards the door and slide it open, being greeted by Miyagi's brumal air that raises the hairs on your body. Tsukishima tugs on the sleeves of his sweater, covering half of his fingers, before following you out.

Barefoot in the evening, with the moon casting a pearlescent glow on your enervated bodies, the thump of the leather ball is in sync with your beating heart; and at each thump, it seems to wake Tsukishima up more.

"Tell me why you're not in the women's volleyball club," he sets it towards your direction.

"No." Your wrists join, your right fingers placing themselves on top of your left fingers, both thumbs settled side by side as your wrist ricochet the ball towards him. "It's none of your business."

Tsukishima catches it with ease. "You're lame."

You scoff, returning the ball. "I am not."

The blue and yellow ball floats into the evening air, the bright colors darkened by the stygian sky, only luminated by the moon and the lights outside your backyard. Tsukishima sets it to you again. "Listen, I don't really care about whatever your reason is. I just want to know."

You huff. There's no harm in telling your enemy a secret of yours, right? It's not like he was popular enough to go on and tell people. And like he said, he didn't care.

The ball comes in contact with your wrists. "I got injured. Well, not seriously injured. I can still play but I'm not as good as I used to be." Tsukishima catches the ball and rests it on his hip, listening to you explain. "I actually got a surgery at my calf."

You lift your pajamas just below your knee, showing the healed scar at the back of your calf. "The bone got dislocated 'cause one of my teammates smashed onto my leg when she was trying to save the ball. She got injured too, actually."

"Obviously," he retorts, now staring at your calf. Something about Tsukishima staring at your scar seemed too intimate as it should be, staring at your bare skin. His blonde hair drapes over his forehead, glasses glinting in the moonlight. "So where do you struggle?"

"Blocking. I can't jump properly." You scratch the back of your neck. "I can set though. Just, it's not in my heart."

"It's just a club," he says. "Play whatever position you want." Tsukishima sets the ball to you again.

"Just a club, huh?" You smirk. "Why'd you fail your test?"

"Because I was thinking too much of what I was gonna do when I'm at court again."

"And it's just a club."

"What's it to you?" He snaps. "At least I'm in the Volleyball club. Have I taken your dream?"

"You're a child."

"Yeah yeah. Join the club or whatever. Don't care if you don't or you want to."

You set it back to him again. "I want to."

Tsukishima senses your melancholy longing for the sport, sees your disheartened look as you think about all the chances you've lost. His heart twinges just the slightest, holding the ball between his slender hands. He almost pities you.

"Tell you what," he sets it to you. "If I pass the retest tomorrow, I'll help you with your blocking. If not," he shrugs, catching your return, "good luck with your life."

"You sound like this is a once in a lifetime opportunity." You roll your eyes.

Tsukishima hopes he passes the retest tomorrow.

Mainly because it was import to him to ace it. Partly because he wanted to see you on court.

🏐 —

100.

You read Tsukishima's answers. In the fluorescent lights, his neat handwriting presents to you all the knowledge he's obtained from your chaotic teachings. He scoffs proudly, resting his lower back on the edge of his table.

"Not bad, nerd." You hand his paper to him. "And you beat me by two points."

"That's because you're an idiot," he sits down on his chair, though still facing you. "See you at the gym later."

Your brows furrow. "The gym's closed. Coach Ukai said today's rest day."

"But I'm not Coach Ukai," he fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "It's just for today. And only today."

"Fine," you agree. You act like you're forced to say yes, but deep inside the vessels of your heart and every part of your brain, they throb with excitement.

So you meet Tsukishima outside the gym after class in a white shirt and gym shorts. He meets you there, clad in the same outfit, heat radiating off his body that warms your always cold flesh. For a moment he admires observes you, your attire unfamiliar but nevertheless appealing hideous.

When you enter, the court seemed bigger without the boys rousing around the court. It was quieter, no shoes squeaking, no balls slammed, no eager yelling. You set your bag down on the floor and see your untied shoe laces.

"Fuck," you mutter.

But before you could bend down, Tsukishima has already knelt in front of you.

His knee rests on the tip of your shoe, fingers ribboning the laces of your rubber shoes. Your eyes widen, body stiffening, and it felt like forever as he tied it (it was actually only 10 seconds).

"You're a dumbass for leaving your shoelaces untied." He makes no comment as to why he's decided to tie your laces, but you swear you see his ears turn a twinge of pink.

Tsukishima takes a ball and goes to the other side of the court. When you stand opposite from him, he rolls the ball to your direction.

"How long has it been since you've played?" he asks, loudly, voice echoing across the empty gymnasium.

"Uh, a year and a half." The ball bounces between your palm and the squeaky floor. "I'm a little rusty."

"You are rusty. Your receives were shit last night."

You growl at his tease.

"We're not gonna start with the blockings. We have to start from the beginning." Tsukishima positions himself, knees bent and apart, his hands on his knees. "Serve it."

So you do. You toss the ball into the air, your hand striking as it meets the ball, and it flies across the net. It goes outside.

"Idiot." Tsukishima laughs. "First, don't try to aim it to me. You don't want your opponents to save it. You have to aim it at an open spot inside the line. Second, don't serve too hard it goes outside."

"Okay!" You yell. And you serve again.

The ball grazes the net, but the momentum deems the ball to be inside the line. Tsukishima catches it and receives it back to your side.

Shit.

You race after the ball, joined wrists hitting it back to him. He dives, the back of his hand coming contact with the ball and it goes back to your court.

And it's high in the air, so you take the chance to bend your knees and jump, spiking it to his court.

Tsukishima blocks it.

He laughs. "You're horrible at this."

"I don't exactly have a libero to save it, don't I?" You retort.

Tsukishima smiles a little, laughing at your loss point. "Give me the ball." You roll it to his side. "I want you to try and block me."

"The net is higher than it is for girls, you know." You approach the net. "I'll have a hard time."

"The higher you jump, the better you can block the ball. And you'll even have an advantage against your enemies since you're practicing with a higher net, (y/n)." He dribbles the ball.

Tsukishima called you by your first name.

Not your surname, not some insulting nickname. Your first name.

Your knees weaken at the sound of his voice dropping the phonemes of your name.

But when he flings the ball upwards, you feel your body go rigid. And just before his incoming ball passes through the net, you jump, fingers stopping the ball.

But the ball doesn't go to his side, instead it falls down below the net, at your side. You land clumsily on your feet, ankle bending but not painfully.

"See, you got it. You just have to jump higher."

"Shut up, you stilt walking clown." Your leg throbs, shaking. "Hit it again."

"See this?" Tsukishima brings his hands in the air, his arms and hands bent inward. "You block like this. Don't straighten your arms. It sets the ball upwards and they get the point since you're last touch. Block me again."

You kick the ball to his direction. Tsukishima springs the ball into the air once more, his arm flinging back when he jumps and strikes the ball towards you.

Filled with adrenaline, you jump as high as you could, your chest as high as the edge of the net, arms and hands bent inward as you block the ball and ricochet it towards him.

He doesn't do anything and watches the ball roll outside the court. Tsukishima's eyes shoot up and look at you, the corner of his lips bent downwards in amusement.

"Not bad. Try harder though."

You snarl at him.

Hours pass and you're both drenched in sweat. His shirt sticks to his chest, his hair damp across his forehead. He's wiping his face with a towel and his glasses rest on top of his hair. You drink from your water bottle.

The sweat drips down the tip of his nose, golden eyes drowsy yet vigorous with adrenaline. His lips are parted to pant out tired breaths, his adam's apple bobbing, the veins of his arms protruding. And he's sitting at the same bench as yours.

You swallow the liquid in your mouth.

"One day of practice isn't enough to get me into the club, Tsukishima." you say, wiping your mouth. "Thanks for teaching me though."

Tsukishima sets his towel down. "It's whatever. Your receives are go-fine, anyway. And you're really not that tall enough to block. You're hopeless."

"I wish Hinata was here to say that so he could yell at you."

Hinata. Tsukishima feels something uncomfortable rise to his chest when you mention his name.

And it seems as though you have summoned that tiny tangerine devil.

"Oh, Kageyama! The lights are open, someone must be here," your head turns and see that Hinata's hair pokes out the door before his head fully goes in. His eyes roam around until they find you. "Oh! (y/l/n)-san!"

"Hinata," you smile kindly. "Why are you guys still here? There's no training today."

"Tanaka-san said we can train for as much as we want as long as we don't tell Sawamura." he hops inside, Kageyama following suit behind him, unzipping his jacket. "What are you doing here, Stingyshima?"

"None of your business." He replies, irritation dripping off his sharp tongue from the nickname. "What do you think we were doing? Playing kendama?"

"I wouldn't mind playing kendama," Hinata looks at Kageyama, who shrugs. "Can we join?"

"Hopeless child," Tsukishima rubs his face with his towel again. "It's getting late. We should go home."

His usage of plural rather than sigular denotes that his usual selfishness has been decreased due to your unwavering presence, having been spent multiple hours with you for the past two days than usual. Tsukishima has easily adapted to include you in whatever he was going to do next.

We should go home.

"Aw, well, can you leave us the keys?" Hinata asks you. Tsukishima shoves the keys in the small boy's hand. "Thank you, Stingyshima!"

Tsukishima slings his bag over his shoulder, approaching the exit. He looks at Kageyama. "Fix your sets, your Majesty. You wouldn't want to clip the wings of Karasuno now, would you?"

You can see the smirk formed in his face. Kageyama is fuming, his fists clenching. "You– I...– You piece of shi– Hnmgh– You dumbass! Hinata!"

"Why me?!"

Tsukishima walks away without waiting for you, although you follow suit behind him. And when you reach the school gates, he turns right rather than left—and his way home begins with him turning left.

Yours was to the right.

"You gonna walk me home?" You joke, finally catching up behind him. Your weary legs has made you walk slower, though enough to now keep up with Tsukishima's tired pace.

"Yes."

Tsukishima doesn't spare a glance at you. But you look at him in shock. Then you shoot him an upsidedown smile, humming.

"No longer Stingyshima, I see."

"I ought to leave you here and get kidnapped." He states bluntly, finally looking down at you through his peripherals.

"Why are you walking me home then?"

"Because I want to take a long walk."

"Yeah sure, whatever." Your hands meet behind you, hitting the top of your bottom at every step you take. "You wanted to take a long walk. Could've gone to the park, could've roamed around your street. But yeah, you're walking me home so you could have a long walk back to your home."

Tsukishima tuts, his arms crossing. "Are you implying something, (y/n)?"

Your first name. Again.

"Oh, I'm not implying anything!" Your eyebrows raise, looking fully at him. And Tsukishima turns his head and looks at you as he walks. "I'm just stating what I've observed, Tsukki."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay!" You turn to your gate. When you reach inside the small box and pull on the lever of your door, you sense that Tsukishima is still standing behind you wth his hands in his pockets, watching you intently. So you turn around when the gate unlocks. "Yes? Do you need to use my bathroom first? Want a carton of milk or something?"

"No." He says. "Get in already."

You rest your back at your gate. "Tell me the real reason why you walked me home."

"No."

"So you lied to me earlier?"

"N-no."

"So what is it?"

Tsukishima sighs. Then he takes a few steps, approaching you and bends down so that his face would be equal to yours.

His scent is sweet, like freshly picked strawberries. And his lips, though thin, was soft and pink. And the tip of his nose grazes just above yours. And his golden eyes narrow to gaze at every speck of your irises. The corner of his lip turns upwards.

"That shut you up." He says. You blush, and he seems to taunt you. "Still want to play volleyball?"

His breath is hot fanning over your cold face. You can't help but nod. You swallow thickly from the close proximity that Tsukishima has created.

"Okay. Well, I still need help with english. And you obviously still need help with volleyball. So you reap what you sow. We'll help each other."

Tsukishima says those words like they're a command. Like they're being read from sacred scriptures. An event waiting to be happened for a prophecy to be fulfilled. Tsukishima's tone was flat but his voice deemed importance.

"Okay," was all you managed to let out through a breath. "See you tomorrow?"

Tsukishima stands up, eyes you up and down. Then looks into your eyes again and you swear that his gaze softens.

"See you tomorrow."

🏐—

A few weeks pass by.

At mornings, Tsukishima has come to pick you up and you studied on the way to Karasuno. You spend your lunches together, along with Yamaguchi, as well as Hinata and Kageyama who—while also bickering like children—listen to whatever you teach Tsukishima.

After classes, you find yourself joining the boys at the volleyball club, with Tsukishima helping you practice your blocks and receives. Though you notice that the boys take their strengths down a notch, which you are somewhat grateful for — because they truly are strong, and you're not ready to catch up to their level yet.

And at nights, Tsukishima walks you home with a milk carton in hand and sharp remarks in his mouth.

There's still a thick smoke of hatred that covers the both of you, that string of annoyance wrapped around your fingers. Yet as days pass by, that smoke has been thinning at every civil interaction. Albeit that annoyance still lingered.

And until today, that smoke has turned into this very light fog, until you begin to question why you hated Tsukishima in the first place.

Your phone vibrates.

tsukishima. Where are you? 8:32am

you. almost there. forgot my bag at home. 8:33am

tsukishima. Hurry up. It's cold outside. 8:33am

you. will do. sorry :| Read at 8:34am

Tsukishima is standing outside the gates of Karasuno, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed as you quickened the pace of your walk.

"You're so slow it's annoying," his eyebrows furrow. "Why'd you forget your bag? Idiot."

"You pressure me, douchebag." You flick the bridge of his glasses. He yelps. "Hurry. I want to study already. We have a quiz at 9."

When you and Tsukishima sit on your respective seats, you quiz each other with lazily scribbled flash cards. He seems to have absorbed the passed on knowledge and had answered the questions with ease.

So after the quiz, he seemed content; confident.

"How well did you think you did, beanpole?" You zip your bag.

"Well enough to beat your ass," he replies. Then, he does something new.

He smiles at you.

It wasn't a bright smile. Not energetic, but radiates some kind of light happiness. Seemed like a smile of gratitude.

You feel your cheeks flare.

After classes, you meet outside the gym as always, both of you changed into training clothes. Then you spend hours and hours jumping and tiring your wrists out, squeaking your shoes off the floor.

By the time the sun has set, Tsukishima was waiting for you again.

"Let's study."

Your eyes widen and you look startled. Tsukishima looks bored. "I'm pretty sure you got yourself covered for the rest of the year, Tsukishima."

"And I don't think you can train by yourself in volleyball," he adjusts his bag. "Let's just study. Reap what you sow."

"You keep saying that."

He ignores you. "Let's study at my place."

"E-excuse me?"

Tsukishima begins to walk to his direction. And despite your reaction, you follow him either way. "Let's study at my place for a change. I'm sick of your living room."

He says it like he's spent years hanging out in your living room. Your feet runs on the cobblestone to catch up with him. "But- What else are we gonna study?"

"Whatever I want."

His house wasn't actually that far from the campus. When you've turned a corner, he opens the gate and lets you in. When you enter his home, it's warm and clean, so you set your shoes aside and walk in your socks.

No one's home.

Tsukishima could've led you to their living room. Instead, he goes directly to his bedroom. And when you don't move, he looks at you through the door with a raised brow, as if to say "well? why aren't you getting in?"

So you do.

You sit on the edge of his bed, watching him unzip his jacket and set it aside. You decide to stop acting so wary and let you back fall to his bed, taking your phone out.

"So when are your tryouts?"

You look at him, placing your phone on your chest. "Next week. Michimiya was nice enough to let me try this late into the school year."

"I'll be there." He sits down on the other side of his bed.

"Oh," you're stunned. "Okay. Um, what do you want to study?"

You pull yourself up until your whole body is on his bed, sitting up and resting your back at his headboard. Tsukishima brings his legs to the bed, resting them beside your socked feet.

"Chemistry." This is new. "Can you run me through it?"

And you do. You take your notebook our and run him by all the lessons discussed for the past week. Tsukishima's pretends to listen but he actually doesn't.

Instead he's staring at your scar at your leg, up and down your very exposed thigh, but mostly at your scar.

You notice this immediately. "Tsukishima, why are you staring at my scar?"

"It's Kei," he looks at you, his hand resting just beside your calf, index finger twitching to trace the ridges of your scar. "Call me Kei."

Kei.

"Okay, Kei."

Your voice, filled with dulcets, his name sounding mellifluous as it rolls of your tongue. Tsukishima's heart beats wildly, and has decided to come with the terms that he hates you— because he likes you.

"Your scar looks... cool..." his index finger finally sets on the soft skin of your healed wound. You shiver at his featherlight touch.

And he's so near you now. As near as that time he walked you home and bent down to your height. And gods, he was so handsome. Even with his scratched glasses. Your mouth gapes the slightest, shaking hands reaching to remove the spectacles off his nose.

Tsukishima lets you. You see sweetness of his stare, all that hatred you used to see seemed to have melted and dripped from his sweat. This kind of Tsukishima is new– foreign, yet seemed right. Seemed destined to happen.

"Kei," you murmur. "What are you doing?"

"Is your skull too thick to process your environment?" his laugh leaves him in a huff, smirking.

"You're so eager for me to teach you something you're already good at so you could keep training me," your brows meet in the middle the slightest, a crease on your forehead that Tsukishima wants to wipe away. "Why?"

"Because you're good, (y/n)." He declares. "Your injury isn't stopping you to perform your best. You're just scared."

"Then why not just train me without me having to tutor you?"

"Because I don't want to lose these kind of moments." he whispers. "Jesus, (y/n), I like you. It's why I brought you here, for fuck's sake."

His lips are warm compared to his cold hands.

You gasp, though eyes fluttering shut, and your eyelashes tickle his soft cheeks. Your fingers wrap around his wrist as he holds your delicate face in the palm of his hands, careful not to hurt you as his lips remain planted on yours.

When Tsukishima pulls away, he's not far from you. His lips hover over yours, breathing your air, his forehead resting just slightly on yours. Your fingers come up to tangle themselves on his silky hair.

"Lose moments like what, make out with me?" you giggle. "If you wanted to make out, Kei, just tell me."

"You never shut up, do you?"

His lips meet yours again in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue unabashed to graze your shy muscle. You hum in surprise, feeling yourself fall backwards when he gently cradles your head to rest on his sweet-scented pillow.

Somehow, you did meet up with your end of the bargain, only with something better.

Something better– like his hips slanted against yours as his mouth spreads shameless ardor across your body.

Something better– like how he whispers your name against your lips like a sacred prayer before he kisses you again carefully.

Something better– like a newfound relationship with Tsukishima Kei, someone you swore was your enemy, but now was someone you could spend your days with in his bed getting warm in ways fire couldn't.

Tsukishima looks into your eyes, tells you his secrets through his dilating pupils. His calloused fingers push your hair behind your ears, and then he kisses your forehead, followed by silk petal kisses on the plump of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and then your lips.

His hands wander beneath your shirt, palms no longer cold as they're heated by the fervor of your body.

"You're so pretty."

"What a sap." you tease. "You're in love with me."

"I am." His nose rubs against yours lightly. "I so am. I'm in love with a dumbass. My ego has exploded."

You hit his face with a pillow.

reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated!

[ink-n-shadow]

outlaw!141 and their kinks…😈 (i apologize for the woman i became after writing this)

𝜗𝜚 pairing: outlaw!141 x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), reader is fem/afab, poly!141, innocence/virginity kink, possessive!price, slight dacryphilia?, praise, corruption kink, anal, marking, gun play, throat fucking, pleasure kink, overstimulation kink, face sitting, allusion to forced (?) face sitting, unedited as usual

gang leader!price has an innocence/virginity kink through and through. he enjoys the innocence and sweetness that you exude, how pure and untouched you appear to be in his eyes. he knows you’re a virgin the first time you guys meet, can tell by the way your cheeks burn hot red with each sweet word he breathes and how your thighs tense and squeeze together beneath the heavy fabrics of your skirts. that’s why he’s the first one to sink his claws into you when you start staying at the camp with them, luring you into his tent with sweet words and the promise of a little drink from his hooch stash. you’re so pliant and willing to accompany him that you don't notice the way the other boys are leering at the both of you, the only thing stopping them from following behind being the revolver price has trained on them and the threat he'd told them earlier ("y'can listen all ya fuckin' want—but no peekin' in my tent unless y'want a fuckin' bullet between the eyes"). he would be all gentle and soft with you, easing your unused hole open with his tongue first before tenderly working you open on one, two, eventually three of his thick meaty fingers. he would kiss away the tears that begin to stream down your cheeks once he's got his thick cock stuffed inside of you (only after making you cum four times over), murmuring soft praises of just how good you feel, how sweet your cunt tasted, how tight you felt around him.

drifter!simon, on the other hand, definitely has a corruption kink. it all starts after your first night at camp, where simon was forced to lay in his bunk and stroke his fat cock to the sound of your broken mewls as price deflowered you. ever since then, he makes it his mission to corrupt you (much to price's dismay). when he gets you in his tent one night after dinnertime, he's not all soft and sweet the way price was. oh no—simon's filthy, pushing you face first into the pillows of his cot as he sinks to his knees and immediately spits a glob of saliva on your untouched hole. dirty words streaming from his lips as he bullies two thick fingers (much thicker and more rugged than price's) in your ass, smirking against the skin of the back of your thigh at the way your mewling whimpers sound more strained, filthy, debauched. you're a boneless mess against his cot, broken pleas for more dripping off your drooling tongue as you subconsciously squirm your hips back to take his fingers deeper. talking about how much of a slut you are for enjoying this treatment, cunt slick and dripping with arousal as he sinks in all the way to the hilt until his balls are flush to your drooling empty slit. he makes sure to leave marks, bruises that won't fade for days to come and imprints of his teeth that border on the edge of breaking skin—all so the other guys can see and know what you let him do to you.

it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that gunsmith!johnny has a gun kink. something about lapping messily at your cunt while your shaky hands fight to keep the muzzle of the gun pressed against his temple makes johnny's cock harder than a fucking rock. or bending you over the work bench in his tent after teaching you how to take apart his pistol, feeding his thick cock into you as he spits in your ear, “c’mon bunny—put it back together f’me. why’re you tremblin’? am i fuckin’ you that good right now?” or making you lay with your head dangling off the end of his cot, forcing your throat to swallow down his cock as he traces the muzzle of the gun around each of your puffy nipples before trailing it down to your slick cunt. he can’t help but chuckle at the way you start choking on his dick when he presses the barrel down hard against your throbbing clit, watching the way your body immediately bows and your hips buck up to find more friction. he likes the way he smears loose gunpowder and gun metal across your skin when you amble into his room once he’s finished making a new gun, chasing his dirtied thumbs with his tongue and lapping up the bitter substances from your sweet skin.

outlaw!kyle is such a giver. ik i usually talk about kyle and his overstimulation kink all the time, but outlaw!kyle literally lives and breathes to get you off. he’s so used to stealing and taking from others, his fingers sticky and grimy with the amount of things he’s looted or stolen, but he never takes from you (unlike the other outlaw!141 members). no, he lets you steal from him—wants you to take from him. absolutely loves it when you come to him all shy, thighs squeezing together beneath your skirts and fingers fidgeting with your blouse as you peer up at him with a wobbly lip and tell him how mean simon had been to you. and outlaw!kyle just clicks his tongue softly as he drags the tips of his fingers down your arms, lips frowning in faux sympathy as he pulls you towards his cot. “simon didn’t let you finish? left you high and dry, huh? s’okay, darlin’—shhh, shhh. i’ll take care of ya. come up here—sit on my face.” but little do you know he’s gonna have you up there for hours, not letting up until your slick and his spit are pooling along the cotton of his sheets and you can barely keep yourself upright. “thought you wanted to cum so bad, hon. why’re we stoppin’? i was just gettin’ started. c'mon—sit back down. don't make me force you.”

[malereadermaniac]

Gym ~ Holland!Peter Parker x Male Reader

Top!Peter x Bottom!Reader cw: Working out n sweat, body worship, Bottom reader & top Peter, hand kink (kinda), underwear n sock stuff word count: 1.3k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Holland!Peter who likes to have you 'help' him as he works out in your home-gym. You motivate the hero throughout his workouts, laying under him as he does push-ups; rewarding your muscular boyfriend with a short n sweet kiss every time he lowers himself

Holland!Peter who uses you instead of weights whenever he can, especially when doing hip-thrusts. The handsome man having you sit on his hips, your ass literally on Peter's clothed crotch, as he grunts and groans with every raise of his hips - his dick obviously hardening underneath you with every thrust. The brunette's rough, veiny hand on your hip so firmly, keeping you in place as his other masculine hand rests in its rightful place on your thigh

Holland!Peter loving how evidently flustered you get when he works out with you, even though you try to hide the blush on your face behind your sassy/sarcastic facade. The hero knows you, like the back of his hand, so he not only tries to get his own weird pleasure out you 'helping' him but also to tease you from time to time; and he achieves this every time... It's not like it's hard, Peter knows what gets you going and uses it to his advantage, like keeping you below him and letting his sweat drip onto you, or keeping a firm grip on you, just to remind you of how fucking strong he actually is

Holland!Peter who always gets frisky during his workouts. Hey! Endorphins pair really fuckin' well with dopamine from having sex with the guy he fucking adores (you!). The hero's dick gets fully erect barely halfway through his session most of the time, resulting in Peter dropping subtle hints at you helping him out. Subtle as in wolf-whistling you when you bend over or smirking down at the tent in his sweatpants to get your attention.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to have you suck him off while he lifts weights. He'll be doing bicep curls above you as you're on your knees in front of the brunette, absolutely going ham on his thick dick. His sweaty, hot balls and dick smell of his manly musk as you kiss and lick his shaft and sack, making the man above you groan as he sweats from exercise and being horny. Shit really hits the fan when your fully sucking Peter off; sloppily deepthroating his thick, veiny cock as his thick bush of sweaty pubes stuff your nose with his intoxicating scent. It turns you on so much to watch the man workout above you, watching his sweat roll down his abs and down his v-line as you pleasure him oh so nicely, his moans echoing in your gym along with grunts of your name.

Holland!Peter who loves it when you worship and praise his body after a workout, his glistening muscles lookin' so attractive as the hero sits on a changing bench and sprawls out his body (because yes, you two decided to also install a changing room for your private gym, and yes it was mainly to have sex in). Peter's dick will re-harden instantly as you kiss his collarbone, lick his sweaty pecks and kiss down his abs and all the way down to his sweaty feet. Your praises of how his body is "incredible" and "godly" and "sexy" really stroking his ego, getting his hormones raring.

Holland!Peter loving the way you look below him, kissing at his feet, making direct eye-contact as you submit to him; he's not the type to be dominant, but FUCK does he feel so horny when you go out of your way to to please him. He always offers his hand out to you, knowing how feral you go for his veiny, rough hands which have saved hundreds of lives. Peter's dick twitches like crazy as he watches you suck his fingers off as if they were his cock, his eyes unable to leave you as you work your tongue sloppily around his sexy fingers, looking into his eyes as your spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth and your chin.

Holland!Peter making you with you desperately and sloppily as you sit on his lap, your sweaty ass sticking to his thick, tired thighs. The feeling of your boyfriend's masculine hands spreading your cheeks never gets old, his fingers cutely prodding at your tight entrance in a curious and impatient manner; Peter always wanting to feel more of you, pleasure you and himself as quickly as possible.

Holland!Peter who fucking loves to watch you do your best to take his big, thick cock - positioning his dick to your entrance and slowly sinking down on your boyfriend's shaft. The brunette gets butterflies in his stomach at the sight of you putting in so much effort to get him inside of you, your face contorting in pain and pleasure just hittin' that spot for Peter so damn well

Holland!Peter who just can't help himself, he tries to give you as much time as he can to adjust to his girth, but you're just too perfect - your walls so warm and tight around Peter, your body fitting together with his like a puzzle, your panting face above him, it all just results in the brunette starting to thrust up into you without even thinking about it! But god does it feel so fucking good, your loud cries and moans of his name and "too big", "too much", and "fuck" turning your boyfriend on to the max, his desperation to pleasure himself and you giving him the confidence to take the lead and fuck you in whatever way he wants

Holland!Peter who gets off to seeing you desperately struggle yet fail to moan out his name due to his dirty, sweaty socks or underwear stuffing your mouth and acting as a gag. The brunette's dick twitching against your tight, warm walls as he drills in your prostate, watching as you squirm against his lap and become overwhelmed by his salty taste in your mouth and his musky scent in your nose - the entire changing room now smelling of both your sweat and his, along with the filthy smell of sex and fluids. Peter's hands feel correct on your hips, holding you tightly as the hero forces you up and down on his cock, his moans of your name making your dick twitch with ever jab at your prostate

Holland!Peter who can't hold himself back for too long, his body jolting forwards and enveloping your body with his sweaty, muscular one, his arms around your waist and his teeth in your shoulder as he breaths in your scent and groans into your shoulder; shooting his thick load deep inside of you. His sweaty garments would fall out of your mouth finally, allowing you to moan and whine as your own dick shoots ropes of white cum onto both your stomach and Peter's, your prostate being milked by your boyfriend's thick dick. Your nails claw down the hero's back, your toes curling in pleasure as you bask in the afterglow, inhaling your strong boyfriend's smell as he does the same as he kisses the marks he had left on your body during your passionate little moment.

Holland!Peter who just wants to rest with you a little. He doesn't care that his dick is still inside of you, or that his cum is slowly dripping out of your hole. The brunette just wants to hold you near, feel you as he kisses your body as little 'thank you's' for being so good to him. Of course, after a few enjoyable moments together, Peter remembers how horribly uncomfortable you must be and gets the two of you into a shower - cleaning you up and out, washing your hair for you and massaging your scalp as you get drowsy from the steam and the cardio. Fuck he treats you so damn well...

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pillow princess

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, riding, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rafe calls reader kiddo/kid

“rafey.” you whine, stepping into all the chairs circled around, filled with topper, kelce and some other guys you recognize as rafes friends.

“what is it baby?” he questions, giving you his full attention despite all the boys sitting around. he doesn’t care that they see him being affectionate with you. its not like his manliness is in question.

“i miss you.” you complain. you were bored sitting upstairs in your bed all alone. you knew it was boys night. first they watched a game, then sat around and talked and drank, but you wanted your boyfriend, feeling extra clingy today.

“aww, come here kiddo.” rafe leans back, opening up his arms, letting you slot yourself onto his knee. you immediately lean your head against his shoulder, snuggling your body into his.

rafe holds you tight to him, fingers drumming against your thigh as the conversation immediately starts up again. you only pay half attention to it, most being about the game they just watched, or their max bench, whatever boy stuff they usually spend the time chatting about.

your ears perk up when the conversation changes to girlfriend and sex. “man, my girl rides me like a fucking jackrabbit.” one guy laughs, making your nose scrunch up.

the rest chime in, except for rafe. you're not sure if it's just because you're there or if he prefers to keep your sex life private.

“alright, boys.” rafe says. “better get going, my lady clearly needs me.”

you smile and blush, cheeks flaring. you bury your head in rafes shoulder as he says his goodbyes, his friends filling out the door. rafe makes sure it closes behind them before scooping you up, holding you in his arms, not even questioning if you want to be carried upstairs.

“rafe?” you hum as he sets you down on his bed. “you know i would ride you if you wanted it, right?”

rafe lets out a sudden laugh, confused by your question. “what brought this on baby?”

“just the guys… talking about their girlfriends riding them. i never do that for you.” you shrug. 

rafe shakes his head. “i don't mind that you’re a pillow princess.”

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “i am not a pillow princess!”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you are, but its okay. i like being on top.”

“but-but-” you stammer. “i’m not!” “okay, wanna prove it?” rafe questions, a smirk still playing on his lips, knowing exactly what he's goading you into doing.

“take your clothes off.” you challenge back.

rafe tugs his shirt over his head before pulling at his pants. he undresses quickly, watching as you stand up off the bed to take your tanktop and shorts off. 

rafe climbs onto the bed once he’s stripped, leaning against the headboard with a lazy smile on his face. you blink at his dick, still mostly soft, resting against his thigh. usually rafe will eat you out or finger you and by the time you’re ready to fuck, he’s already hard.

“come on, show you’re not a pillow princess. get me hard.” rafe beckons you over.

you finish taking off your underwear before climbing onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. you reach for his cock, taking it in your hand, starting to stroke it as you watch with fascination as he hardens right under your fingertips.

“gonna suck me off too?” rafe questions.

“maybe.” you hum. you bend down, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, suckingling as your hand continues to stroke most of his length.

you work him until he’s completely hard before letting your mouth sink lower, taking as much as you comfortably can before setting a pace of moving back to just have the tip in your mouth to taking him fully.

“such a good girl.” rafe coos, placing a hand on the back of your head, but he doesn’t force you down, doesn’t help your movements. he lets you take control like you swore you could do.

you reach down between your legs as you suck him off. you’re a little wet, but it’s nothing like when rafe fingers you before sex, so you rub your clit as you flick your tongue over his length, his moans reaching your ears.

you pull off of his cock with a pop, already feeling tired of being in control. you wish rafe would have pushed himself down your throat, showed you just how he liked it, but he just watches you as you climb onto his lap.

you stroke his cock a few more times as you position yourself properly, hovering your cunt over his dick before slowly sinking down, letting out a moan as he fills you up, stretching slightly more than usual without as much prep. 

“it feels different from this angle.” you admit, looking shyly down as you sit on rafes fat cock. you feel it twitch inside you, and you know he’s desperate for you to move from the strained look on his face.

you begin to bounce, placing your hands on his chest. you wish he would grab your waist or your ass, helping you move on his length, but he leaves it up to you as you grind your cunt down.

you already feel your legs beginning to get sore, your muscles not used to this type of motion as you already begin to slow down, ashamed at how fast you are ready to give up, so you try to power through, but to no avail.

“fine.” you give up. “i’m a pillow princess.”

rafe flips you over suddenly, pressing your back into the mattress. “i told you so. should have just listened to me, kid.”

you whine as you wrap your legs around his waist as rafe begins to thrust. “i just like this better.” you don’t want to admit that you got exhausted after a minute of writing, and you really do like rafe on top of you better, his hair falling around his forehead as he looks down at you.

“you’re so pretty baby, i don’t care that i have to do all the work.” rafe says as he pumps into you. “not when your pussy is this tight.”

you grab at rafes shoulders, pulling him down into you so you can press your lips together. rafe grabs your tit with one of his hands, keeping the other around your waist as he kisses you, tongue pushing inside of your mouth as another show of his dominance. 

“gonna cum inside me?” you question.

“of course im gonna baby girl.” rafe says, sealing his promise with a kiss as he begins to move faster, digging deeper into your cunt.

“please.” you whimper, wanting to feel rafe release inside of you. you scratch your fingernails lightly down his back, making him shiver as his cock suddenly pulses, spurts of cum shooting into you.

“oh fuck, baby.” rafe moans as you clench around him, purposely milking him.

rafe collapses to the side of you, slipping out of your cunt, leaving his cum to slide out of your pussy onto the bedsheets.

rafe breathes deeply for a minute while you also try to get your breath back before he turns on his side, kissing your jawline and neck as he brings his hand back towards your pussy, but you shut your legs, squeezing your thighs tightly to deny him.

“but you didn’t cum yet.” rafe says with a pout, feeling like he failed if he can’t get you off too.

“i’m too tired, don’t wanna.” you admit with a shrug, feeling satisfied without the orgasm.

rafe can’t help the small chuckle that leaves his mouth. “you’re too tired from riding me for like two minutes? and you tried to argue that you’re not a pillow princess?” “yeah, whatever.” you roll your eyes. “just cuddle me.”

rafe nods, pulling you in with his big arms, letting you snuggle into his chest. “i love you princess.”

the words warm you, making your cheeks blush, never getting tired of hearing him say those three words as you tip your head up, letting your lips ghost over his. “i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby

[thus-spoke-lo]

"What's Got You All Worked Up?": Little things that turn One Piece men on feat. Zoro - Sanji - Law - Usopp - Franky - Crocodile - Doflamingo

NSFW/18+ [minors DNI]

CW: gn!reader [Zoro, Sanji, Usopp]; afab!reader [Law, Franky, Crocodile, Doflamingo] - no gendered pronouns used; vaginal fingering [Law]; vaginal intercourse [Law]; somnophilia [Doflamingo]

Zoro: the way you look after a workout

Zoro never cares if you keep up with him when he works out—he loves that you want to spend time with him, adores how serious you take your bicep curls or how you look in the afternoon light when you lay down on a mat for a while to slowly stretch your limbs. But it’s when you’re all done for the day, when the heat of the midday sun has the room like a sauna and your muscles are sore and shaking, that he starts to lose all semblance of control. Your temples are dappled with perspiration, your chest heaving as you finish your last rep, sweat is trickling down your neck; he swallows hard and lets out a low groan at the sight of you. It reminds him of the way you look right after he fucks you, all heated and glistening with sweat and limbs weak and trembling. And since you’re already all warmed up, this seems like the perfect time to bend you over and take you right there on the weight bench.

Sanji: the way you smell

He doesn’t mean to be such a pest (well, actually he does) when he comes up behind you in the mornings, when you’ve just woken and you’re still sleep-drunk and groaning that the sun is out again already, but he needs to bury his face in the crook of your neck as soon as you wake and inhale your scent. Sanji thinks you smell sweet in the mornings, like pancakes and pastries, and pulls you back into bed so he can devour you like the delicious treat that you are. In the afternoons, he catches a whiff of you on the breeze, your skin covered in the salty spray of the sea, hands scented with tangerines after helping Nami in the garden, and he’s all over you, plying you with kisses and lust-tinged whimpers, begging you to come to his bunk, just for a little while, just so he can taste the way the citrus settled into your skin. And at night, he’s insatiable, burying his nose in your hair unabashedly when you stay to help him clean after dinner, taking in the way the faint traces of aromatic ingredients have settled on you and mixed with your own scent that he adores. It’s not long before he’s shutting off the sink and taking you by the hand, leading you over to the table and making a meal of you right then and there.

Law: the way you look in comfy clothes

Sure, he thinks you look lovely on the rare occasion you get to leave the submarine together and you doll yourself up for him, wearing that new shirt he likes, the one that flows over your body like water, and take the effort to line your eyes and swipe a little lipstick on. But when he feels the most hungry for you is when you get back and head straight to your quarters, stripping off your shoes and your pretty shirt and those tight jeans that make your ass look perfect but that you joke threaten to cut off your breathing one of these days. He sits in his desk chair and watches as everything comes off, and you crawl into his bed, face freshly-scrubbed, tucking your hands into the sleeves of an oversized sweatshirt. It’s then, when you’re finally comfortable and warm, when you look at ease and relaxed, and you gaze at him with half-lidded eyes, that he’s all over you, fingers dipping below the waistband of your soft cotton shorts, teasing your pussy until you whimper and beg for more. He doesn’t even bother to strip the rest of your clothes off before he pulls his cock out of his jeans and buries himself inside you to the hilt, pulling your shorts to the side instead so you can stay nice and cozy, just how he likes you.

Usopp: when you help in his workshop

Sharing his workspace with you is already intimate enough for Usopp – it’s like he’s sharing a piece of himself the way he invites you in. But once you’re in there, it’s hard for him not to be heated at how serious you take it. You look so sweet the way your tongue pokes out of your mouth when you’re focused on something, and he feels a tingle at the base of his spine whenever you pout and ask him for help—you’re so close to getting it right, you just need him to guide you, to stand behind you and place his hands on yours and make sure the welding equipment stays steady. Watching the way you grip that piece of metal piping your working with in a way that makes him wish your hands were wrapped around his length instead…it takes everything he has not to grab you and sit you on top his worktable, to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you against him, let you feel just how much you drive him crazy. But he resists, at least for the moment, anyway--hearing you describe just how hard that steel is and how hot and sweaty you've become doing all this work pushes him to the brink soon enough, and he has no qualms in showing you exactly how skilled his hands are.

Franky: when you show just a little bit of skin

Coming from a man who walks around in an open shirt and swim briefs, this sounds pretty rich. But there’s just something so tantalizing about seeing a hint of skin and having to imagine what’s underneath, like that time your leggings were more sheer than you thought, and you bent over to grab the laundry basket and he got a quick glimpse of your panties (that happened to be the same pattern as one of his shirts). It was enough to drive him to distraction for the rest of the day and make him glad he was alone in the engine room, barely able to contain the way his cock pulsed every time he remembered how you looked. He loves that one sweater you wear, too—the one that just won’t stay on your shoulder and keeps slipping down, exposing just the slightest bit of soft skin in the afternoon sun, and the way it leads his eyes down to the way the fabric settles over your breasts. And don’t even get him started on that hint of your tummy he gets to see when you reach up to grab something off a high shelf, reminding him how easy it would be to wrap his big hand around your waist and just slide it right on up until he can feel the silky material of that nice bra he bought you…have mercy.

Crocodile: the way you look getting ready for dinner

It’s so routine now that you don’t seem to mind—at first it alarmed you, made you feel like prey when Crocodile would sit on the velvet couch in your quarters, his arms draped across the back, a cigar clenched in his teeth, and he’d watch you ready yourself for that evening’s festivities. But now, you almost welcomed the way his predatory gaze would settle on you as you sit at your vanity and paint your lips; you throw a wink and a pout his way now and again in the mirror, almost tempting him to ruin that pretty makeup after you’ve spent so long putting it on. He loves how your body moves, almost sleek and catlike, around the room, slinking into your closet and asking him which dress he likes better. He shifts in his seat as you wriggle into that pretty blue number he adores, and throbs as you glance over your shoulder and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to come zip you up. And how can he refuse? Of course, by the time he crosses the room and reaches you, you both know that he has no plans to move that zipper an inch, and instead you feel the tip of his hook lifting your hem as he growls in your ear to bend over—he’s going to take care of that needy pussy of yours before you ever step foot out of your room. Guess you’ll be late for dinner, again.

Doflamingo: the way you look when you’re sleeping

He chuckles quietly and wonders if you fell asleep this way on purpose—the silken nightgown he dressed you in before he left for the evening has been discarded on the floor, and you lay atop the sheets, your body completely bare and bathed in moonlight. He slowly circles the bed like a predator, admiring the way your limbs are stretched out, arms flung above your head, your legs spread, one knee bent and lolled to the side, exposing your pretty little cunt. It looks just like the way you fling yourself onto the mattress when you’re feeling needy, how you toss your dress at him and lay back against the plush pillows, biting your lip and beckoning him to you with sweet pleas of I need you. He licks his lips at how your slit glistens, and wonders if you’re dreaming of him, wonders if perhaps you touched yourself thinking of him before you fell asleep. He sits carefully on the edge of the bed and watches you sleep a little longer, your lashes fluttering slightly as you moan and shift, your breasts heaving as you inhale deeply and sigh. You tempt him even in slumber, and he palms the throbbing hardness that pushes against his slacks, groaning softly as he decides if he should wake you with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

[crushmeeren]

Bakugou/Fem Reader/Kirishima

❥ All characters aged up/18+.

Master List Link

❥ Warnings; dirty talk, pussy eating, blowjobs, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, Eijirou stuffs you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Don’t be such a pussy. You know you can fucking do it, so do it.” Katsuki isn’t asking you. He’s demanding you. His jaw’s clenched tight and he speaks with a tone that says his patience is running thin.

Unfortunately for him, the harsh pep talk doesn’t quite motivate you the way he wants. You know it’s his way of being encouraging, but his efforts fall flat.

“Fuck off Kat.” It’s hard to speak when you’re panting so heavily. “God! I wish Ei was here,” you hiss crossly, gritting your teeth. Your sweat covered palms slip over your bare knees as you bend in half, desperately gulping down air, heart rate erratic.

Katsuki clicks his tongue behind his teeth, laughing. Which really sounds more like he’s mocking you as he taps his foot impatiently.

Clearly he’s not offended by your nasty comment.

“Why? So he can baby your ass?” He taunts meanly, lifting his chin up to stare down at you. He crosses his arms over his tank top covered chest, sitting up straight on the workout bench across from you as he stretches a leg out in front of himself. You throw an icy glare his way, choosing to ignore the jab for your own peace of mind.

Standing upright, you use the bottom of your muscle tank to wipe off the metric ton of sweat pouring down your face. The scent of your shirt is overwhelming and gross, causing your nose to wrinkle in distaste.

You’ve been at the gym with Katsuki for two hours. Two grueling, lactic acid filled hours.

The gym at Eijirou and Katsuki’s agency is relatively quiet and secluded, with all the equipment you could ever hope for. It’s a perfect place to focus on your lifting without distractions. So naturally, Katsuki woke up deciding today was the mother of all days to work on one rep maxes.

You’re both off work. Ei is out on patrol — so Katsuki can push, bully you into lifting as much weight as he wants. Which Katsuki swears it’s so you can’t run to Eijirou with “big ass doe eyes” and a pout whenever you get tired and want to go home.

So, here you are, stuck with Katsuki. He’s already hit a new PR and you’re working on yours. You’ve failed this weight three times already, and you could put your fist through the wall you’re so pissed off. Your glutes are on fire. Your hamstrings are on fire. Your lower back is on fucking fire.

Still, your boyfriend is ruthless. With his snarky attitude, it doesn’t take long for you to reach your boiling point.

“Kaaaat,” you whine, dragging out his name until he rolls his eyes. “I can’t do this today. Please, I just - I wanna go home. I wanna see Ei.” Tears of frustration start to sting and well up in your eyes and you sniff, adjusting the strap of your lifting belt tighter, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze.

An exasperated albeit fond sigh hits your ears. You take to fiddling with the hem of your stretchy biker shorts, irritated in your own lack of ability.

It sits in your chest like a lead balloon.

The bench protests as Katsuki rises from his seat, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Adamantly staring at a crack in the black mats that make up the floor, shifting from foot to foot.

You listen to his quiet footsteps approaching until suddenly black lifting shoes fill your vision.

Gently, a thumb and forefinger grip your chin. Katsuki tilts your head until you’re meeting his warm yet intense ruby red stare.

You deflate, becoming putty in his hold.

“Baby,” he begins, gruff voice infinitely softer now. “You are going to fucking lift this weight. You’re stronger than you know.” He’s overly confident, as normal.

Your lower lip wobbles, heat creeping up your neck and burrowing into your cheeks.

As infuriating as he can be, he’s no doubt your biggest supporter, fan, etc. Not counting Eijirou.

Katsuki’s unwavering belief in you sends goosebumps crawling up your sweat soaked arms. It ultimately convinces you to try again. You wrap your fingers around the wrist helping support your chin, feeling his steady pulse thudding.

“One more time and then we can go home?” You ask reluctantly. His lips curl into a smug grin realizing he’s won you over. Playfully, Katsuki shakes your head side to side, grip tightening on your chin.

“Yeah whatever,” he relents, rolling his eyes. “Ya know, if you hit this, I’ll give you a reward,” he says nonchalantly, trailing his hand down to snake around your throat with a barely there pressure.

“What kind of reward?” You eye him suspiciously. Although, you’d be remiss to deny the anticipation his words bring.

He leans into your personal space, smirking like the Cheshire cat. It gives you a close up of the golden brown freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose.

The air between you sparks dangerously. Warm like the left over embers of a bonfire.

“How bout, I eat that cunt till you’re squirting all over my face, yeah?” He purrs, squeezing your throat a bit harsher.

You grab his tank top with both hands, inhaling sharply. Katsuki’s tone of voice, his words - your entire body flashes hot within the second. “Oh?” You squeak out, trying to ground yourself while you’re this close to him.

Katsuki pushes in until his soft lips brush your ear lobe, tickling you pleasantly. He slips two fingers into the top of your lifting belt, tugging you to his chest.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get you so soft, so goddamn pliant, that Ei will just slip right into your pussy when he gets home,” he whispers huskily.

“Oh god,” you groan, letting your forehead thump onto his collar bone. You fist his shirt until your knuckles are white, a blistering heat gathering in your belly.

Katsuki snickers, placing a kiss to your jaw and pulling back to force your head up, leveling his gaze with yours. “C’mon baby, you know how much Ei loves that. So, why don’t you be a good girl, hit this lift and let me take your ass home.”

With that he’s gone. Leaving you to soak in the offer, causally making his way back to the bench. Your hands linger mid air where they held his tank top, blinking rapidly as you watch him — mind blown, shattered, melted.

He sends you a pointed look to say “hurry the hell up”, resting his left hand on the seat to hold his weight.

You breeze through your personal record the very next try.

One steamy, rushed shower later — you’re spread open wide, entirely bare and resting on your back. The cool sheets on your bed helping to soothe your sweltering skin.

You’re not alone. Katsuki’s naked too, comfortably laid out on his belly between your thighs. He’s lazily pumping two fingers in and out of your drooling pussy, paying close attention to the lewd way you suck him in. Your yearning, insatiable, cunt strangling every coherent thought from his head besides the stunning view in front of him.

Katsuki reaches up to take hold of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He runs his thumb over your palm, keeping your focus trained on him, and casually rests your conjoined hands on the mattress near your hip.

Your low moan pierces the air when Katsuki sinks his canines into the delicate skin on your inner thighs. He gazes up at you through long blonde lashes while he marks you with dark reddish purple hickeys all over.

They ache and sting, pulsating dully, each new bite causing your pussy to flutter. It steals your breath away, the way he’s taking you apart.

Yet, you’re getting restless, squirming in the blonde’s hold. By now you’ve already sent a salacious video of you deep throating Katsuki’s cock to the red head.

Drool and precum had been dripping down your chin, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded for the camera as you dragged your lips up his cock. Katsuki’s rasping moans decorated the background, hips rolling shallowly to meet your mouth. The two of you obviously played it up, wanting to seduce Eijirou, to tempt him into getting home quicker.

You’re proud to admit it works almost too well.

He instantly replied he’d be home in 20 minutes. That was about 15 ish minutes ago. You’ve already been made to cum twice since then.

Katsuki had let his release spill down your throat right after he clicked send on the video. Now he’s currently inching you towards a third orgasm.

You’re aware Katsuki’s going to make you squirt this time. The slight fullness and pressure building in your bladder is a telling indicator.

He’s also trying to his damndest to stretch this out until Eijirou gets home, craving for the red head to be his captive audience. You share his desire, longing for your currently absent boyfriend to just be here already. You desperately want Eijirou to fold you into a pretzel.

Nevertheless, it’s exhilarating how sweetly Katsuki’s treating you for the time being. He’s normally a bit rougher so this tender side of his is turning you to a pile of mush.

Slim fingers curl up into your sweet spot, stroking it lovingly, and it sends a warm shiver snaking down your spine. Your back bows off the bed with something similar to a keen falling from your lips.

“Katsuki!” You cry out his name. It sounds as sinful as a curse and as holy as a prayer, free hand bunching the silky sheets up in pleasure, skull digging into the mattress below.

“Yeah that’s right. Your pussy feels fuckin’ amazing, doesn’t it princess?” He purrs, tone almost patronizing, but he can’t hide the underlying simmering heat coloring his voice. His soft lips plant a kiss over your swollen clit and your blood buzzes.

“So — ah! So f-fucking good Kat,” you babble, eyes falling shut. It’s irresistible, the pull you feel to roll your hips in time with his thrusts. You’re almost feverish from it all, cheeks so scalding steam may as well be rising from them.

You cling to Katsuki’s hand even more while he edges your orgasm to the surface, intermittently kitten licking your puffy clit. You tilt your head, glancing down at Katsuki with half lidded eyes, slack jawed. He keeps his leisure pace, stretching the rubber band of your climax to its limit.

The blonde’s expression mirrors yours. Dilated pupils, red blossoming brightly over his cheeks and down his throat — lids so heavy they’re almost closing.

His stare is laced with a rabid want that you recognize all too well, and the sight of him occasionally rocking his hips down into the mattress sets your nerve endings alight.

It’s obscene, the way he chases relief for his obviously aching, full cock, smearing precum along the sheets below. He never fails to become drenched when he’s so badly turned on.

You stare briefly at the ceiling, knowing it’ll be over immediately if you keep leering at him. You’re already on the cusp of cumming. The slow, sweet buildup of it making your heart pound brutally behind your rib cage.

Katsuki rips a high pitched wounded noise from your throat when he suckles on your clit again, your free hand darting out to tangle and twist his soft blonde hair.

A fresh wave of goosebumps light up over your arms, a thrill racing through you as he devours you. Instinctively you cross your ankles over Katsuki’s upper back, huffing as your tits heave with the rise and fall of your breath.

You try to warn him, open your mouth to tell him you’re about to cum — but you’re interrupted by your bedroom door swinging open.

Katsuki halts his movements, your orgasm fading into the background as both your heads snap towards the direction of the door. You don’t have time to be upset about it because finally your other boyfriend is home.

Eijirou stands there in street clothes, broad shoulders filling up most the doorframe. His red hair hangs loosely, framing his face. The ends are dripping, remnants of a quick shower he must have taken at the agency.

Eijirou wolf whistles. “Well damn! What did I do to deserve walking in on a sweet treat like this?” Eijirou teases, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on the doorframe.

“Ei! You’re ho—oh fuck!” You begin to greet him but cry out when Katsuki brushes the pads of his fingers over your g-spot intentionally, startling you.

You untangle yourself completely from the blonde, leaning up and bracing your weight on your elbows. You shove at the blonde’s shoulder with your heel, half heartedly scowling at him.

Katsuki snickers, pillowing his cheek on your squishy thigh and slyly looking over to Eijirou. He looks quite seductive, scarlet eyes full of mirth. Eijirou laughs delightedly at the playful display, the sides of his eyes crinkling when he beams at you both.

“Oi, quit fucking around Ei. Take your damn clothes off and get your ass over here.”

You smoothly join Katsuki in egging the other on. “Yeah Eijirou, been waiting a lifetime for you to come home. Katsuki wants to put on a show for you.”

Katsuki barks out a laugh, wanting to deny it, but he can’t.

“Okay! Okay, I’m hurrying,” Eijirou giggles, cheeks turning a soft peachy pink. He wastes no time disrobing, pulling down the zipper of his hoodie to reveal he’s wearing nothing underneath. Eijirou ignores the over the top catcalls you both throw his way, mumbling under his breath and pretending he doesn’t love it.

He sheds the jacket, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he makes his way to the side of the bed. He slips out of his sweats just as shamelessly.

You watch Eijirou’s already half hard cock twitch when you reach out for him. He eagerly accepts it, kneeling on the bed next to your head. You look up at him adoringly, lips turning up into a smile that makes the apples of your cheeks twinge.

“Hi Ei, we missed you,” you croon, affectionately squeezing his hand.

In response, he bends down to give you a sweet kiss in greeting. It’s brief, but makes you feel like you’re bathed in sunshine either way. He pulls back, a question clearly on his lips.

“Wanna sit in my lap baby? I’ll get the best view of you that way,” Eijirou offers, entirely serious. He shuffles until he can sit behind your head, bracing his back on pillows and the headboard.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You scoot backwards until you’re able to slot in between his wide spread thighs, resting your own sticky back along his chest. As you do so, Katsuki chases you, inching forward, never letting his fingers leave the searing heat of your pussy.

“Oh fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, taking note of their presence. You tighten around him greedily, desire burning you to ash.

“Oh princess, look at you. Even more fucking needy now that Ei is home,” Katsuki comments meanly, digging his thumb into your puffy clit as he settles in his new spot.

A weak yelp leaves you at how sharp the sensation becomes. You feel the rumble of Eijirou’s laughter as it vibrates throughout his chest.

“Maybe I just want to cum,” you chide him. “You’ve been edging me forever.”

Katsuki doesn’t respond, just grins like he’s won the lottery, a bit manic, and sets a borderline violent, relentless pace.

The howl you produce is ear splitting. The sudden dynamic shift begging your spine to bend but Eijirou quickly cages you in. He wraps his thick biceps around your stomach, hooking his chin into the muscle just behind your collarbone.

“Be good,” Eijirou warns. “You wanted this yeah? Then let Kat do what he wants.”

You scramble to lock onto his forearms, nails dragging angry lines over his skin. You obediently nod along with what he tells you, starting to get the impression your skin is too tight to fit over your bones.

Your body bounces in time with Katsuki’s motions and the razor sharp points of Eijirou’s teeth threaten to pierce the delicate flesh of your shoulder.

Mercifully, your orgasm comes on like a freight train. In less than a minute to be exact.

Katsuki bullies your g-spot with a precision only he could possess, flicking his tongue over your clit in a steady up and down rhythm. Pleasure pulses white hot in your pelvis, threatening to prickle out all over your waiting body.

“Oh. Oh, I’m gonna cum Kat! Ei, please, shit!” you curse, head spinning, not even sure what you’re begging them for.

“That’s it babygirl, we’ve got you,” Eijirou coos, tone a 180 from a couple minutes prior.

You’re wiggling in his iron clad grip, on the edge of exploding. One more push is all you need. The stifling heat of Katsuki’s mouth envelops your clit once more, sucking.

Your toes curl into the sheets, all the muscles in your lower half tensing as your climax rips you apart. You hold onto Eijirou’s forearms for dear life, molten lava gushing through your veins like a busted dam.

Katsuki pulls his mouth away with a wet pop, punishing you with each slippery glide of his fingers. You don’t think you can take much more, crossing into over sensitive territory. It doesn’t matter though, not with the looming pressure on your bladder giving without your permission.

“You’re so hot like this baby. Now fuckin’ squirt for me,” Katsuki snarls. Eijirou’s cock kicks where it’s trapped against your lower back.

It’s too easy to bend to his will.

You’re soaking the blonde’s chin and wrist before you know what’s happening, liquid running down to your ass. His head jerks back, briefly startled, before his eyes get wide. Katsuki slows, lolling his tongue out to lick his drenched lips for a taste. He moans, pink flush traveling down to his chest.

“No more,” you complain, hips stuttering as you push at his forehead. You try to catch your breath, coming down from the high and become boneless on Eijirou’s chest.

“Good job sweet girl, you did so well my love,” Eijirou murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your cheek and you lean into him, letting the red head smooth his warm palm over your belly.

Katsuki slips his fingers free, biting the inside of his cheek when your pussy desperately tries to keep him from leaving you empty. He rises up, settling back on his calves, and admires how drenched his hand has become. He arches one pretty blonde eyebrow, smirking at his boyfriend.

“Want a taste of her Ei?” Katsuki teases, wiggling his fingers at the red head. Eijirou hums his agreement and Katsuki surges forward over you, dangling his dripping hand in front of Eijirou.

Katsuki’s cock, hot and heavy, brushes your lower belly. God, you just want to drag him down by his slim hips, flip him over and ride him until he sees stars.

But you don’t.

The deep seated desire for Eijirou to fold you in half wins out. You tilt your head up just in time to witness Eijirou’s pink tongue dart out for a taste. He trails his tongue up Katsuki’s fingers, dipping into the grooves between. You shudder, simultaneously moaning with the blonde.

“Ei,” you interject brokenly. “I need you to fuck me, now please.”

Eijirou’s boner jumps against your lower back. “I can totally do that,” Eijirou responds, playfully pushing at your back. You laugh, looking up at Katsuki expectantly as he continues to hover over you.

“Yeah whatever I just wanna watch Ei fuck you silly,” he says with a wink. You swallow and it’s like your throat’s been lined with cotton balls. Katsuki retreats, loosely circling his fingers at the base of his cock and squeezing for some relief.

“C’mon Ei, I’ve been waiting for you all day,” you giggle, sliding down until you’re flat on your back again. You plant your feet on the bed, allowing your legs to fall open as wide as they’ll go.

“I won’t make you wait any longer baby,” Eijirou assures. He crawls down as Katsuki moves upwards, effortlessly switching places. Katsuki’s knees bracket your head as he maneuvers until he’s comfortable. If you glance backwards you’ll be met with the view of the blonde’s cock and his partially obscured face.

“Ready pretty girl?” Eijirou paws at the squishy spots of your thighs, inching close enough until he can part the lips of your pussy with his shaft. The pink head bumps teasingly into your clit, a jolt of pleasure startling you. You nod eagerly and bite into your lower lip.

Eijirou uses his thumb to angle his cock down to where your warmth waits to greet him, to suck him in like a vice. To clamp down around him until his brain is fuzzy.

He barely dips the head of his cock in once, twice — before finally applying enough pressure his tip fully pops in. The initial stretch makes you shiver, and as he fills you with the rest of his cock, you start to tremble.

Your pussy doesn’t offer even a hint of resistance.

You wheeze out his name when he bottoms out. Eijirou’s blunt nails leave indentations on the backs of your thighs as he pushes them a bit more towards your chest. His grip is bruising, licking his lips as he concentrates on being still so you can adjust.

You look down to where you’re connected, fists clenched in the sheets by your sides and your pelvis throbs briefly from just how big his cock is. Eijirou grabs your attention with a strangled sound, and your gaze flickers to his impatient expression. You nod, giving him the go ahead.

He runs with it, proceeding to carve out a space inside you just for himself. Glazed over eyes flutter briefly as your pussy pulses, choking his cock, and his lips part slightly, eyes glued to where you’re swallowing him. Eijirou rolls his hips, pulling back and thrusting in with a singular fluid motion, slowly working up to a rougher, faster pace.

Katsuki curses from somewhere behind you, voice low and ragged as he tells you just how “fucking pretty” you look taking Ei’s cock. You echo the sentiment, praising the red head as he shifts around on his knees and thrusts harder.

Eijirou whimpers, taking your ankles and lifting until your knees hook over his shoulders. He bends you in half, placing his hands by your head. A moan is punched out of your chest and you grasp as his shoulders, the jarring sensation of feeling like his cock is in your belly making you whine.

“Eijirou, holy shit! Please — don’t stop!” you beg, voice edging on a sob. Katsuki hisses in pleasure behind you, the slick, wet sound of him jerking his cock burns your ears.

“Anything baby, whatever you want,” Eijirou says with a breathy sigh, fucking you hard enough to bounce your body with each thrust. The smack of his skin against yours spurs him on even further.

Your pussy chases his cock every time he pulls back, not letting him go for a second. He fucks you until you feel high, and when you get impossibly tighter — he knows you’re cumming.

Eijirou talks you through it, because of course he does. He drags out your orgasm as long as he can, a drop of sweat falling from the tip of his nose into the valley between your tits. He admires the way your body releases all its tension as you come down from the high.

“Good girl, you cum so beautifully for me,” Eijirou praises. “I’m gonna cum inside you okay?” He’s panting as he moves, clearly hanging on by a thread.

“Cum for me Ei,” you murmur, trailing your hands up and wrapping your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Eijirou moans as you pull him down into a hungry kiss, attempting to eat him alive. He whimpers into your mouth, shoving his cock to the hilt in your pussy, and a new warmth blooms inside you as your boyfriend cums.

Eijirou wrenches his mouth from yours to gasp, jaw falling open as he rides out the last few pulses of his orgasm. A high pitched whine slices through the gooey atmosphere and you look backwards to witness Katsuki’s gorgeous face as he reaches his high.

His eyes pinch shut, the muscles of his neck straining as he tosses his head back on the headboard with a thump. He traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth, partially muffling the next moan he can’t control.

Eijirou hisses when your pussy involuntarily flutters around him, staring at the blonde squirming with pleasure. Katsuki’s shoulders drop as he relaxes, chest heaving. His stomach is covered in cum, as is his chest. There’s even some on his cheek.

Reluctantly, your attention snaps back to Eijirou when he gingerly pulls his softening cock free. Taking a moment to track the way his release sluggishly flows from you.

“Enjoying the view?”

Eijirou glances at you in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I always do baby,” he coos.

“Fucking sap,” Katsuki snorts.

“Hey!” Eijirou protests. You laugh, reaching backwards to slap Katsuki’s ankle.

“Don’t listen to him Ei, he’s just as bad.” Playful banter consumes the three of you as you enjoy the relaxed atmosphere.

Eventually, you manage to clean yourselves up. You and Eijirou easily convince Katsuki to cook and fill your bellies with food. While you wait, you sit at island in your kitchen, happily retelling Eijirou how you got a new PR today at the gym.

You don’t leave out the way Katsuki used dirty tricks and promises of sex to persuade you, which makes Eijirou laugh loudly.

Katsuki just raises his middle finger over his shoulder in return, taking all the credit for your lift either way.

[werecreature-addicted]

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

[yeonzzzn]

You guys ( @emi-en @pockettwinzz @paralyzedparadiseonmytongue @alvojake @ja3yun @yeonzzzn ) are a perfect definition of PATHETIC bcoz, imagining enha members doing 18+ things and it's so weird. Why do u guys even write smuts? it's DISGUSTING okay? and wht will u feel when writing smuts? joy? happy? contented? wht will u get when u wrote it? NOTHING and u guys just freely asking for a SIN.

oh? it’s a sin? we feel nothing while writing smut? are you so sure?

because imagine church boy jake sitting beside you in the middle of service. his fingers are slowly tracing up and down your exposed thigh. each time his hand reaches the ends of your skirt his thumb stretches underneath it to slightly rub against your clothed cunt and biting at his lower lip at seeing you squirm out of the corner of his eyes. oh god did he wish he could bend you over this church pew bench and fuck you senseless. or having you on your knees in front of him, not to worship god, but to worship him with each movement of your mouth sliding up and down his cock until his cum was shooting down your throat.

you’d try to push his hand away but knowing you didn’t want him to actually stop because with each brush of your hand over his in attempt to move his hand only made him press his hand more towards your inner thigh and up higher and higher. rubbing his knuckles against your folds and feeling your slick coat his digits through your panties. “oh so wet for me baby, and in the middle of service? so so dirty for me.” he’d slip your panties to the side and push his fingers inside your tight pussy, reaching for your other hand and placing it on top of his clothed cock, squeezing the top of your hand which in turn had you squeezing him. you kept squeezing him in motion of his fingers fucking into you, slowly reaching your fingers up and unhooking his belt, his hand moving to help you unbutton his dress pants and zip them down, giving you the access to slide your hand right between his boxers to wrap your fingers completely around his dick.

jake quietly gasped at the feeling of your skin against his, slowly bucking his hips upwards to fuck himself in your hand. the both of you biting down onto your lips to suppress your moans and gasps from the other church goers from hearing. you’ve never been so happy to be in the last row of pews and in the far corner out of eyes reach. you squeezed his shaft tighter with each movement, spreading his precum with your thumb over the head each time you hit the top of of cock. jake pushed his fingers in knuckles deep in you, curling them up with every push, hitting your weak spot. both you and jake knew you wouldn’t last long. you clenched around his fingers and his cock twitched in your hold. both seeing stars as you both came together, making a mess in his nice church slacks and you soaking the cushions of the pew. god jake couldn’t wait until next sunday.

hope you enjoyed this anon <3 wrote it just for you pookie

[hysteria-things]

ON THIN ICE

based off of this & this

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: nate gets into a fight during a hockey game, but has an idea to make him feel better.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, fighting, begging kink, p in v, public, spanking, choking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (don’t be silly!), cream pie, overstimulation, dumbification, ROUGHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 928

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: day TWO of nate week!

THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 3K??? I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING OMG❤️❤️

whistles blow from left to right from the referees, hockey players from both teams trying to pull away the two boys fighting in the middle of the rink. one of the two boys is your boyfriend, nate.

during the game, you have noticed nate getting a bit disgruntled with a player on the opposing team. suddenly, they stopped in the middle of the rink to talk. in the blink of an eye, nate pounced on him. something must have ticked him off. bad.

murmurs are heard from around the bleachers, the group of people finally pulling the two boys apart. sadly, nate got the red card.

he throws his stick and helmet in a fit of rage as he sits on the bench. he hunches over, taking off his skates and throwing those somewhere too. the game continues after that brief mishap, but your eyes are still set on nate.

he’s angry, face is red while talking to himself. you watch as he gets up to go outside, and you soon follow him. “nate!” you call out, watching as the boy marches toward his car.

hands in fists, he keeps walking until you finally catch up to him. “nate.” you repeat, grabbing his wrists and turning him around.

the way his jaw clenches looks like it’s about to fall off its hinges. his chest still heaves from anger, his eyes looking into yours. “what happened?” you ask calmly.

“nothing,” he responds with bitterness.

you don’t believe that for shit. “what did he say to you?”

“nothing,” he says with a bit more attitude, but then he exhales because it’s you he’s talking to.

since nobody likes to see their boyfriend mad, you cross your arms and sigh. “what can i do to help?”

his eyebrows raise slightly, a smirk appearing on his face. he nudges his head to the hood of his car. “shut up and bend over.”

you gasp when your upper body slams onto the car, hands getting pinned behind your back. nate thought you were taking too long with his command, so he took matters into his own hands.

heart pounding, he takes off your pants, licking his lips and biting them at the view. you wince, the breeze of the night hitting your bare pussy so suddenly.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to admire it. smiling like a fool knowing he can’t have nor feel it. you belong to nate, and he’s going to make sure everybody fucking knows that.

“nate—” you pout, a hand making contact on your ass cutting your words off. you let out a quiet sob. “s-somebody can see.”

“that’s the fucking point. i want people to see,” he says through gritted teeth, smacking your ass once more. with his unoccupied hand, he unties his uniform shorts and slides them down. his tip just about touches your clit, causing you to buck your hips back. “ah, ah, ah. beg for it.”

“please,” you whisper.

spank.

he didn’t like that.

“please.” you cry out louder. “f-fuck me, please. fuck me like you own me. i want to feel your cock, baby. please… i-i’m all for you.”

he licks his teeth and grins, grabbing onto your throat. “that’s my girl.”

your nails dig into his knuckles when he hammers into you; like he’s taking his anger out. because the stretch was so sudden, pained moans leave your lips. he hums approvingly behind you, watching the way your ass recoils off of his thighs. the slapping noise echoes throughout the dark parking lot.

“nate, fuck!” you yelp, the car rocking along with your body movements. “holy—” you pause, eyes rolling back so hard that you see black. his grip on your neck tightens so he can lift your head to look at your reflection in the window.

your wanton expression only makes him move faster, tears running down your face from the force. he snarls, the guy’s voice bouncing back and forth in his brain.

“is that your girl up there? wonder how much she’ll scream for me if i fucked her, instead.”

you’re moaning nonstop, body twitching and shaking the moment he hits numerous spots inside you. “you want to know what that mother fucker said to me?” he rasps out, pinching your clit that makes you jolt but nod. “he said he wanted to fuck you instead. he can’t do that now, can he? do you know why?”

you moan, dropping your forehead onto the hood while nate fucks you dumb. “oh— oh— oh my god, right there! don’t stop, baby… please.”

clenching, his hand leaves another hit on your ass. “answer me.”

“b-because i’m all yours.” you whimper, clenching around his dick again. “i-i’m cumming! please let me cum!”

“that’s right.” he starts, twitching inside of you as his thrusts get sloppier by the second. “let everybody know whose cock you’re screaming and cumming on.”

sobbing from pleasure, you squeeze your orgasm down his shaft. “i need you to be way louder than that, beautiful. i want him to hear you.”

“nathan! i-it hurts too good.” you cry, tears staining your cheeks.

“going to have you walk back in there with my cum dripping down your thighs. how does that sound?”

you can only nod in response, his hips stopping to fill you up with his cum. if it weren’t for him holding onto you, you would’ve fallen over by now from how weak your legs are.

he pulls out slowly, your eyes fluttering when you feel him ooze out of you. that definitely took the heat off.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @sturniolotriplettoplover @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss

[thefreakandthehair]

you're my fantasy.

written for ‘shower’ wc: 399 | rated: m | tags: established relationship, slice of life, modern au, steve harrington plays fantasy football and eddie munson loves him so goddamn much, suggestive ending @steddiemicrofic

Eddie moved in with Steve six months ago, but he’s still not used to the hot water never running out.

It doesn’t trickle, it doesn’t fade, it doesn’t force him to hurriedly scrub the shampoo from his scalp after just a couple of minutes. Cold showers are good for two reasons: unbearable Indiana summers and having to look at a thought-to-be-untouchable Steve in a swimsuit. But now, he lives in Steve’s house with it’s central air conditioning and he gets to touch Steve every fucking day so suffice to say, he never wants to experience the sharp cut of a cold shower again.

He stands in the enclosure, face towards the spray and he rolls his shoulders, stretching his neck. The heat from the water fills the bathroom, a fog that settles across the mirror above the sink.

It’s quiet.

It’s peaceful.

It doesn’t last.

Eddie startles as he hears footsteps rushing up the stairs, feet tripping over themselves, only for Steve to barrel through the bathroom door. He grimaces and braces himself against the sink countertop, leaning down to rub one hand over his calf.

“Um… hi?” Eddie pulls the curtain back enough to see Steve clearly without letting all of the precious warmth go to waste. “Not tired of seeing my dick yet? You could've just asked.”

Steve stands up straight and rolls his eyes. “I’m definitely not tired of seeing your dick and never will be, but that’s not why I busted my ass running up here. It’s 6:55pm. The game kicks off at 8:15pm. I’m down by 23 points in our fantasy league, I’m playing Wayne, and they just announced that they’re sitting Christian McCaffrey because of a calf strain! Just now, Ed!”

“You…” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “You ran up the stairs like some sort of possessed spider just to tell me that my uncle is going to beat you this week?”

“It’s the last game of the week!” Steve repeats, bending down again to massage his leg flared nostrils and pinched eyebrows. “I have no one left to substitute in!”

“And it looks like you’re gonna be benched this week for your own calf injury.” Eddie shakes his head and smirks, impossibly fond and so goddamn in love. “C’mon, get in here with me. Can’t fix your football team, but I think I can make you feel a lot better.”

husband and I are both in multiple fantasy leagues and in one of the leagues we aren't in together, he was banking on Christian McCaffery to win the week for him. McCaffery was the offensive player of the year last year, the universal number one draft pick for fantasy football leagues this year, and arguably one of the best running backs in the NFL. him getting sat an hour before the game on Monday was a Big Deal™️ and this is my long way of explaining that this is yet another entry into the fic genre of "Lex's Husband Doing Steve Harrington Things." anyways, he scared the fucking shit out of me when he ran into the bathroom to tell me. 💀

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

The Locker Room Horizontal Tango. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

UA Hero Course Touya x Support Course Y/N

Synopsis: An AU where Touya Todoroki is the top of the Hero Course at UA. He's hot, untouchable and and an absolute player - or so you think. The Reader is in the Support Course and often works on Touya's support gear and hero suit. After months of flirting back and forth, Touya initiates ridiculously steamy sex in the UA gym locker room. The sex is hot, but it seems he may have more than just fucking on his mind...

The shower is filled with steam - blending seamlessly with Touya's snow white hair. He's positioned the shower head so that the steam of scalding water is tilted away from you both. The stall is comfortably warm, and droplets of hot water still manage to splash random parts of your body as Touya positions you - hands against the warm tile walls and ass up towards him. He bends you over and makes sure you have good footing on the shiny tile floor before he strokes at your entrance with his cock. You gasp and the sensation - his wet tip gliding against your clit once, twice, three times, aaaand...

"Fuck, Touya!"

He doesn't take his time when he slides inside of you. He just starts moving. You weren't expecting him to move so quickly, but it doesn't really matter because your pussy has been soaking wet since he made eyes at you across the gym from his bench.

"Slow down, Jesus Christ." You manage to choke out as he pistons his hips and thrusts into you without warning. You feel so full and the stretch is absolutely delicious, but you want him to take his time. You want him to take you apart as meticulously as he promised he would in your Instagram DMs the night before.

"No can do, doll. Gotta be quick - we can't get caught like this." He says casually, but you can hear him straining to keep his voice even.

Hooking up in the UA gym locker room showers is definitely an expulsion-worthy offense. So, yeah, he's probably right. Gotta keep this short and sweet.

You throw your hips back and flex your pelvic muscles around his hard cock, and you hear him hiss out a curse in reply.

"Shit."

"I can play dirty, too." You smirk.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure." You hear the grin in his voice as he gives you a deep thrust and brings down his palm flat across the meat of your ass. It's not a hard slap - in fact, it barely makes a noise. But the sheer act of him smaking you around pushes you off the deep end. He's so fucking hot and so totally out of your league.

He slides his hands up to grip your hips so he can pick up the pace even more.

"Ever have a cock this good, doll face? I bet you haven't." He teases, getting comfortable as he gets a good feel for your pussy. "Your such a studious little slut. Always updating my costume. Don't think I didn't notice what you did to my jumpsuit...you made it so tight on my fucking ass I can barely get it on." He wanders a hand to your left cheek and squeezes hard. You yelp at the sensation. "Yeah, that's how I feel every goddamn time I need to suit up for training now. Sucks, doesn't it?" He squeezes your butt again, more softly this time. He slows down his pace a bit, then gives you a single hard thrust. Jesus, his dick is going to split you in two. "Consider this punishment."

You groan. You were hoping he'd notice that little modification...

"An ass like that needs to be accentuated." You whimper out under your breath. "It was my duty as a support specialist to make your pants less baggy to show off that juicy peach."

"You fucking little minx." Touya is laughing out loud. You peer back over his shoulder and see him smiling down at you, eyes genuinely happy. You've never seen his expression so unguarded before - he's always scowling or looking devastatingly mischievous. But right now he just looks like a guy who's having fun.

"Oh, you wanna make eye contact?" He asks, and it's a genuine question. He's not joking around or mocking you. You nod dumbly as his hips still. His cock sits inside you for a moment, motionless except for a small twitch of arousal. "Alright, lemme figure this out." He pulls out slowly. Your pussy pulses with need when he's gone, empty and desperate for hero course cock.

He uses his big, strong hands to pull you upright, resting them gently at your hips. You stand there, staring at the tiled shower wall with your back to him. You feel hot all over as you feel his hungry eyes on your ass, your back, your shoulders. He's only ever seen you in a mechanic jumpsuit in the Support Course lab or in your school uniform. This is the most of you he's ever seen - and he loves it.

He slowly moves his hands upwards to run appreciatively up your curves, skin sliding easily across your shower-damp skin.

"Fucking gorgeous." He breathes out, pulling you flush against him. You yelp in surprise as you feel his hard cock erect against your bare ass, his muscled stomach and chest slick against your back. He brings his hands up, up, up and scoops at your breasts. "I've had my eyes on these for a while." He squeezes at your tits, bringing his thumbs to circle your pert nipples. You let out a tiny moan of pleasure.

"That feel good?" He whispers, bending his neck so that his breath ghosts along the shell of your ear. "You like it when I play with your tits? Answer me, sweetheart. Tell me what you like."

He's being gentle now, and you're unsure about it. It's a complete departure from what you were expecting, from the hard fucking he was just so confidently dishing out.

"I can keep going hard for you, or we can slow things down." He offers up. You weren't expecting that. "Come on, tell me what you want." He squeezes your breasts lightly, eliciting a shiver throughout your body.

"Y-yeah. I like it when you touch my tits." You breathe out under your breath. You try to remember where you are - it's a Saturday afternoon and the men's locker room showers are likely to get quite busy soon as your classmates finish their workouts. You can't afford to be heard.

"Then I'll keep doing it." Touya says, fondling your breasts with the confidence you'd expect of the sex god of Class 3B. He pinches at your nipples in the most deliciously sinful way as he plants a hot kiss to your flushed neck. "And how would you like it if I touched riiiiight..." He lets his right hand wander down the expanse of your stomach and waist, dipping a long finger towards your pussy. "here?" He finds your clit and begins to circle it slowly.

"Oh!" You try to keep your voice low and fail as you squeak out an embarrassingly shrill moan. "Yeah. Yeah I like that, too." He continues to play with your clit - he's so confident and experienced and it all feels so. damn. good. You wish it would never end. You wish you were more articulate during sex. You wish that Touya fucking loves you as much as he loves fucking. But your pussy clenches needily, desperate to be filled back up. A greater woman would enjoy the attention and focus on the sensations of the top Hero Course student's capable hands on them. But you're not a greater woman. You're fucking horny and cock hungry.

"Please, Touya. Fuck me?" You whine out, grinding your ass against his hard cock. He laughs into your ear, planting a kiss on your cheek before he steps backwards and away from you. He releases his grip on your boob and pussy.

"Yeah, I'll give you what you need babygirl. Let's get you that eye contact, too." He turns you around and in an instant has you pressed against the warm tiled wall. His body melts into yours and he leans down to press your lips together as well, his hot mouth inviting and soft. Your eyes flutter shut as you kiss him back, pressing years of want into the hot slide of your lips. You've been lusting after him since first year. Every time he asks for modifications to his hero costume you make sure you get assigned to his case so you have an excuse to talk with him, tease him, make him laugh...you've always hoped and prayed that he'd want you just as badly. But this is Touya Todoroki, the guy who's managed to simultaneously be the school's bad boy and top of his class. He has his choice of literally anyone at UA, regardless of gender. Why would he ever choose you?

Your brain slyly slurs out: "Well he's certainly choosing you right now, isn't he?"

Yes indeed - here you are, on the receiving end of Touya's amazing tounge as he deepens the kiss and grabs at your hips with greedy hands. His cock is hard against your belly, twitching with desire.

He breaks the kiss for a moment to whisper "Touch me, Y/N." before sealing your lips back to his in another electrifying kiss. You bring your shaking hands up and around his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles of his back and neck before deciding to explore his chest. You slide your hands between your bodies, placing your open palms against his hard pecs. You drag your hands slowly, slowly down his rippling abs and stomach and he groans into your mouth at the contact.

You continue to kiss him, the rhythm of your lips becoming increasingly erratic when your hand brushes against his throbbing erection. You try to stay confident as you wrap your dexterous mechanic hand around the base of his cock, shocked at how big he is. He's sticky - a mixture of precum and slick from being inside of you. Goddamn this is so fucking hot. You try not to get caught up in your head as you move to slowly jerk him off, your hand sliding from base to tip in a smooth motion. He breathes in sharply and breaks away from your mouth, burying his face into your neck as your hand glazes over the tip of his cock. You gain some confidence and slide your hand back down to the base. His breath becomes ragged as you work at him, paying extra special attention to the tip of his dick.

"God." He breathes out, his hips lightly bucking to urge you on. "If I had known you'd be this good to me, I would have fucked you a long time ago. I've always wanted to bend you over that stupid help desk counter at the Support Course Lab. Wanted to strip you out of that stupid neon orange mechanic jumpsuit you're always wearing." He's grumbling nonsense into your neck as you pick up the pace, putting all of your energy into giving him a great handjob. "Ah! Ah! I'm gonna need you to stop that, beautiful."

You slide your hand off of his dick and he plants a soft kiss into your neck before pulling away from you. He stares down at you with an incredulous look in his piercing blue eyes, chest rising and falling heavily. "Fuck, the things you do to me." He whispers through full lips, his eyes darting down to your tits and then back up to meet your eyes. Your stomach does a little somersault at all the keen attention he's giving you. Is there a chance...that he actually likes you?

He reaches down between you and spins his fingertip against your clit again, causing your pussy to throb hungrily.

"Let's get you taken care of." He breathes out quietly, his face a breath away from your own. He taps at your clit again and smirks as you shift your body towards him needily, desperate for him to provide some sort of relief to your aching pussy. You look up at him with pleading eyes.

"Yeah, I could really use your cock right now." You say in a desperate, slutty sort of voice. It's a voice that even you are surprised to hear coming out of your mouth. Touya gives you another genuine laugh and you find yourself entranced by the sound.

"Don't worry, I've got you." He scoops up your right leg and positions it so that your knee presses against your chest. He presses your bodies back against eachother and uses his free hand to push the head of his cock to your entrance.

This time, he takes it slow. This time, he makes sure you feel every fucking inch of him slide into you. He stares into your wide eyes with his own shockingly bright eyes, desperate to see every emotion that flickers across your face as you take his thick cock.

You moan as he bottoms out inside of you, your body is thrilled to be full and stretched like this. Fuck. If he asked, you'd be his little slut til the end of time.

But the vibe has shifted - it's no longer hot and heavy and desperate.

No, in this new position, Touya is fucking worshiping your body with every stroke. His eyes are laser focused on your face, his lips parted as he lets out these tiny sighs of pleasure with each thrust. He presses your knee up a bit more so he can get a better angle, shifting his hips from side to side so that he can get as much of his cock inside of you as possible.

You have no idea what to do or say, you've never had someone's attention this laser focused on you during sex. You feel like you'll combust under his gaze, under his touch. His cock feels so fucking good inside of your tight heat - the gentle way he's dragging it backwards before lightly thrusting it back inside is absolute heaven. He keeps up a steady pace for a few moments before he dips his head so he can bury it back into your neck. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest, your knee pressed between your two bodies as he continues to fuck into you softly.

Your so overwhelmed with the magic of it all you keep forgetting to breathe. You feel so comfortable pressed against him like this, his cock buried in you as far as it will go. Your orgasm builds with each thrust, a tense coiling of golden ichor in your core.

Touya seems to feel the same because he picks up the pace, groaning quietly into the soft flesh of your neck with every rut. "Fuck this pussy is good Y/N." He flexes into you, the tip of his cock hitting a gloriously deep spot inside of you. You feel your legs start to shake with the pleasure of it all.

"Touya. Touya. I think I'm gonna..."

"Yeah baby? Can you cum for me, pretty girl?" He moans into your skin, pressing wet kisses to the place where your neck and shoulder meet. Baby? Pretty Girl? Fuck.

The pet names drive you over the edge and you cum hard around his cock. Your pussy flexes and flares and absolutely consumes him as he fucks up into you.

"Oh fuck baby. Fuck Yeah. Shit." Touya mutters a string of expletives appreciatively as he feels your cunt flutter and squeeze around him as you cream. He slides his hands down to your waist and helps you ride out your orgasm with stuttering hips. Your gummy walls try to milk him for his baby batter and you feel his breath hitch. The tail end of your orgasm slips away, leaving you a twitching mess in its wake.

"Shit. Baby. Shit. I'm gonna cum." Touya breathes, thrusting into you hard before quickly scrambling to pull out of your slick heat. Your leg drops to the ground as he takes a quick step away, splattering your stomach with thick cum as he barely makes it out in time. You lean back into the shower tile, catching your breath as Touya stares at you with wide, fucked out eyes. He rubs out the last waves of his orgasm, dick quickly going soft in his hand as he stares at your gorgeous, shaky body.

"Woah." He breathes, releasing his hold on his cock and straightening up to stand. He runs his hands through sex-wild white hair, laughing a bit as he comes back to himself.

"Yeah, woah." You slide down to sit on the floor, absolutely exhausted and caught up in the afterglow of the best fuck you've ever had. You close your eyes and drop your head back against the wall and breathe in deeply, your breasts bouncing with the effort of it.

After a moment, he joins you, knocking his bare knee against your own.

The shower is still going next to you both, droplets of hot water bouncing off the tile floor and clinging to your skin in small splashes.

"Would you be up for doing that again sometime?" He asks, voice open and eager.

You crack open an eye and look over at him, bewildered.

"Seriously?" You say, not even bothering to hide the surprise in your voice.

Yeah, when Touya started sexting you via Instagram late last night you were hoping for a good hot fuck. But that was it. You know Touya's reputation, and you know he doesn't sleep with anyone more than once. Plus - he's wayyy out of your league. He's a hot shot future hero and you're the kind of side character who's always behind the scenes. Most of the hero course students barely notice you, even when you help with their support gear. You're not a main character, you're just a face in the crowd.

"Did you hear anything I was saying before?" Touya laughs incredulously. "We've been friends for like three years, haven't we? Ever since you started working on my support gear in our first year."

It's true that the two of you have been known to chat and discuss his support gear. You'll even grab lunch together every few weeks to chat through shared course work and the general UA curriculum. But this whole time you thought he was just buttering you up so you'd do your best when working on his hero gear. You're friendly with him, sure. You're friendly with a lot of people. It's part of being in Support - customer service and that sort of thing.

Hold on.

You think back to all of the memes he's sent you on Instagram, the times he's waved to you in the hall. The extra hours he's spent chatting with you while you tinkered with his support gear in the lab, the times he's snuck you extra sweets from Lunch Rush as a thank you for the suit modifications. Holy shit. You've been putting this guy on a fucking pedestal and this whole entire time he's been...trying to make you his friend!?

You give him a surprised look, eyebrows raised. Your mouth is trying to find words but you're at an utter loss.

"Y/N. You can't be serious. I've been trying to get your attention for literal months." He's giving you a look of bafflement. "I've been flirting with you forever. Like...every time I come to the Lab. My support gear has been working perfectly all year, didn't you notice that the cuff to my gloves kept breaking in the same spot? I literally have been taking it apart with a screwdriver every other week for an excuse to come back to the Lab to talk to you."

"Huh!?" Your brain is crashing out as it scrambles to think back to all the times Touya would show up to the Lab, sheepishly grinning as he showed you the latest way he's managed to break his support gear "during training."

"Y/N." Touya shakes his head in disbelief, then throws back his head and laughs - illicit locker room hookup be damned. You can't help but start laughing with him. "Come here." He stands up and hauls you to your feet.

The showers in the locker room are private and broken into two sections - a tiny curtained changing area that leads into the larger shower space. He opens the shower curtain to the cramped changing area to grab his gym bag. He unzips it and pulls out a washcloth alongside a ziplock bag filled with toiletries. He ducks back into the shower area where you're standing awkwardly, completely naked and still sticky from sex.

He reaches behind you to adjust the shower head so that it's back in place, and gently pushes you under the warm water. You feel your muscles relaxing under the hot steamy flow. You close your eyes and tilt your head back to wet your hair. You're exhausted and feeling such a complex mix of emotions - nerves at how you'll escape the men's locker room undetected, delight at the orgasm you've just shared with the hottest guy at UA, and surprise and excitement that Touya has been trying to pursue you all this time.

You let out a small "eep!" of surprise as you feel Touya slot himself behind you. He wraps his muscled arms around your body and squeezes you in a brief hug, before sliding a thick bar of soap across the plush skin of your stomach.

"Let's get you cleaned up." He says quietly, his voice a tickle in your ear as he dips to kiss your neck. He slowly soaps you up, bubbles of suds glinting across your skin in the low florescent light of the school shower. He touches you like you're something valuable, something to be cherished. It makes your heart feel like you might explode.

In a few minutes, you're squeaky clean. You've used some of the shampoo from the shower's soap dispenser to lather at your hair, and Touya's made short work of your body with soap and a washcloth. But he doesn't stop there. He kneads at your sore shoulder muscles under the hot water, laughing softly when you arch into his gentle touch. Who would have thought that Touya would be the king of aftercare!?

It's a quiet, intimate thing to be touched by Touya in this way. Even in your wildest Touya fantasies, you never let yourself dream that a post-coital Touya could be so sweet. You've only heard rumors of his reputation as a heartbreaker - he's always fucking and leaving. You don't even realize that you've said this aloud to him until he pauses in his gentle massage at the nape of your neck.

"Huh. Yeah that's a fair concern. Well...think of it this way. I have a lot of fuckin' goals. I want to be number one at school. I want to be the number one hero once we graduate. I've never had time for relationships or feelings or shit - but sex is fun. I tell everyone before I sleep with them not to expect anything more than a good fuck. It's not like I'm purposefully running around 'breaking hearts.' I'm upfront about what I want and what I can give."

"But..." You're not sure if you want to be having this discussion, you don't want to set yourself up for disappointment. You're confused about this whole situation and what it means. "You didn't tell me that. You didn't tell me not to expect anything more than sex. That's fine, though. I assumed this would just be a quick one-off thing." You say, sighing as he resumes rolling out your muscles with his capable fingers.

"Y/N." He huffs out a laugh, squeezing at your shoulders lightly. "I already said I want to do this again with you. In fact...Y/N I want to fucking date you. School schedule and hero shit be damed." He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you against him. You feel the hard planes of his chest muscles naked against the skin of your back. You're covered in goosebumps at the skin-to-skin contact and at his unbelievable words. "I thought I've made it clear to you - I'm interested. I'm invested. I have been for a while." He sucks in a breath, and you realize that he's pitching you. This idiot is trying to convince you to let him date you. This is real insanity hours now - there's no way in a thousand years that you would have seen this coming.

Touya nuzzles his pointed, aristocratic face into your shoulder. The hot water continues to pour from the shower head, drenching you both in warmth. Your mind races - Touya Todoroki wants to date you!? Maybe you aren't just a face in the crowd, after all. You stay silent as you mull it all over. He fills the airspace the best he can: "I can't promise you I'll be any good at this relationship stuff...I've never done it before. But if you'll have me, I'll try to be the best damn boyfriend I can. Think about it - Touya Todoroki, number one in the class. Number one in your heart. Number one boyfriend. Has a nice ring to it, yeah?" He laughs, and once again it's that clear, unguarded sound that makes your heart squeeze.

"I'd like that." Is all you can manage to say. You're so overwhelmed - thoughts and question buzzing around in your head like a hive of angry bees. Loud bees. "I'm gonna need a hot minute to process all of this." Your legs are still shaky and you are starting to feel dehydrated. You want to go lay down in your bed for a while and just think about it all.

"Take your time, beautiful." Touya sounds pleased as he plants another smooch on your cheek. "We're in no rush. I texted all of the guys to steer clear of the locker room for another half hour."

"What!?" You say, incredulous. You had thought this was a super secret sexy hookup that no one would ever know about.

"Yeah, well, I didn't want us to be interrupted. And everyone owes me a favor from when I got training cancelled last week by accidentally setting Gym C on fire."

"So everyone knows that you and I are...?"

You don't need to look at Touya to know he's got that wicked grin plastered to his face - the one that shows off his mischievous dimples. "Hey, I didn't explicitly say what we would be doing...but..." He shrugs, all cocky confidence. "I think it was pretty easy for them to read between the lines."

"Touya Todoroki." You admonish, stepping out and away from him so you can turn around and deliver a light smack to his chest. "You are an absolute menace."

His bright teeth sparkle in the lowlight and you're stricken by how damn pretty he is.

"Yeah, yeah." He says, reaching to grab your bare hips and pull you towards him. He dips his head down so he's a breath away from your lips. "Let me show you just how menacing I can be, sweetheart." He kisses you, and it's as if your lips are magnetic the way they are pulled back to his over and over.

Touya Todoroki, Number One Boyfriend.

Huh. You kind of like the sound of that.

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

Author's Note:

Hope you liked this lil Touya x Reader fic! I'm really on a Touya kick right now...

I really like to think of Touya as misunderstood, esp in this AU. He talks a big game and he seems like he has his shit together, but he's actually a big softie with feelings™. Touya would so totally pine after someone for years before making a big dramatic move to try and capture their feelings. In this particular AU, Touya knows he's good at sex and it's much easier for him to open up once he's kind of shown the reader what he's bringing to the table (physically, at least). Anyways, hope you enjoyed! More Touya fics on the way because I can't stop thinking about this idiot.

Linking my other Touya-centric fics below :)

Dabi x Hawks

Bed Chem. | Dabi x Hawks 🌶🔥🦅

Dabi x Reader

Unexpected Flames | Dabi/Touya x Reader

Staples. | Dabi/Touya x Reader 🔥🔞

Game On. | Touya x Reader Imagine 🌶

🔥 My Master List 🔥

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart

[saksukei]

simon ‘ghost’ riley and his strength

masterlist | i’m about to throw up,, not rly nsfw

simon ‘ghost’ riley is not your average man and he knows it. he’s tall, his built is much bigger than your delicate little frame and he can bench your body weight like it’s nothing.

he only notices how his size affects you when he came from behind, caging you between the desk and himself. from stuttering your words, to gulping and getting red, he notices how the only thing you fixate on is how he’s towering over you. he let’s out a chuckle, how adorable are you? now he knows your little secret. simon has a shit eating grin plastered on his face under his mask. ‘oh i’m gonna have so much fun with this,’ he thinks to himself.

from subtly flexing his muscles, to wearing compression shirts that outline his god-like muscles, he does everything in his power to make you a shy blushing mess. he lifts heavy things, cages you from behind when he reaches things that you can’t (he purposefully places them higher up so you ask for his help), to bending down to your level so he can listen, to constantly placing his hand on your inner thigh, he’s a menace.

his hands are so rough, calloused and big, they cover your entire waist. especially, how he keeps his hand on your lower back to guide you, knowing the effect it'll have. fucking asshole uses his hand to hold your entire hair in a ponytail, whispering such unholy things in your ear, “you don’t know how much i’m holding myself back, love,” to “we are leaving. now.”

he can’t help but grin foolishly when you sit on his lap as if it’s made for you. “that’s my pretty girl, hm?” he praises, stroking your hair. simon never let’s you out of his iron grip. you can barely budge on the days he decides to pin you down, one hand enough to pin both your wrists.

and how insanely strong he is. he picks you up so effortlessly, one hand on your waist and then you’re thrown over his shoulder, with a playful smack to your behind. when you play fight him, normally, simon let’s out a laugh at your attempts to cage him but then something changes and he flips you over, his deep gravelly voice muttering, “haven’t even used half of my strength with you, sugar.”

he manhandles you so much and he’s so mean about it! from saying, “aren’t you just a doll?” to “i know this is what you want” to “look at you fucking ogling every time i enter the room. can’t get enough of me, yeah?”

all in all, simon enjoys enjoys that you’re so fascinated by his strength and size, whispering to himself something about how you're ‘the most cutest little thing’ he’s ever seen.