#circles with your arms out then falling to the floor and watching the room spin) and the mismatched rung on the banister from where

[dreamauri]

Sub Oscar but he needs a break from aus and he relaxes by getting so many orgasms??? He deserves it tbh

♪ — 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗢𝗗𝗘 sub!oscar piastri  x  girlfriend!reader ( smut ) fic summary . . . after a tough home race, oscar piastre needs your help to get his mind of his race results (1.4k words)

( my master list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

CONTENT WARNING — ( +18 MDNI, smut with a little plot, blow job (m receiving), overstim, sad oscar)

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Oscar slumped into the plush couch of his driver’s room, his body heavy with the weight of disappointment. His face was still flushed from the race, and though the adrenaline had faded, the frustration lingered. He had started P2, full of hope, only to finish P9—far below where he felt he should have been. The spin, the lost positions to a Sauber, Stroll, Leclerc . . . It all weighed on him.

The door clicked softly behind you, and he didn’t need to look up to know it was you. The gentle sound of your footsteps on the floor told him you were coming over to him. You didn’t need to speak; you never did when it was like this. Oscar rested his head on your shoulder as you sat next to him, his arms naturally finding their way around you.

“I fucked up,” he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. You wrapped you arms around him in return, stroking your fingers through his weat damp hair.

You let him vent, listening to every word, his self-blame unraveling in the form of a disjointed rant.

"I had it. I fucking had it," Oscar muttered, his voice tight with frustration. "P2. I started P2, Yn." He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head against your shoulder. "And then I just—what? I lose it like a fucking rookie? One mistake, and suddenly I’m in ninth, watching a Sauber fly past me like I don’t belong here."

His grip on you tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt. You just held him closer, rubbing his back in slow, steady circles.

"You do belong here, Os."

"Then why does it feel like I don’t?" He exhaled sharply, shifting slightly. "Lando's on the podium, Max is Max, and I’m here, talking about how I got overtaken by Stroll like an idiot." His voice cracked slightly on the last word, the frustration melting into something more fragile. "I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve defended better. But I panicked, and I—I let it slip away."

You cupped the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair, grounding him. "It wasn’t just you, Oscar. Strategy wasn’t perfect. Tires were shit. It’s not all on you."

"It feels like it is." His breath stuttered, his shoulders rising and falling unevenly. "I hate this. I hate feeling like I disappointed everyone. The team, the fans—myself."

"You didn’t disappoint me." Your voice was soft but firm, and he finally looked up, eyes searching yours, flickering with something vulnerable.

Oscar exhaled shakily, the tension still thick in the air. He leaned his forehead against yours for a brief moment before looking at you, his brown eyes wide, a mix of vulnerability and yearning behind them.

"I just . . . I want to forget today," he whispered the last part like a confession, barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

You blinked, the request catching you off guard. Your hands, which had been rubbing soothing circles into his back, stilled.

"Now?" you asked softly, searching his face.

He nodded, a little shy but resolute.

You hesitated. "Oscar . . ." Your fingers grazed his jaw as you tried to find the right words. "I don’t want you to just bury this. You had a bad race, but avoiding it like this—it won’t make it go away."

His lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing in his eyes. "I know that," he said, voice strained. "I know tomorrow I’ll still be thinking about it, I know I’ll go over every mistake a hundred times in my head—but right now, I just need—" He swallowed, voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. "You."

Your heart clenched at the way he said it, so raw, so desperate. Then he gave you this look—this quiet, pained, pleading look, like if you said no, the weight of today might just crush him entirely.

And just like that, your resistance melted.

You sighed softly, fingers tracing the curve of his cheek before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his lips—a question, an invitation, and an answer all at once.

When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, still uncertain, still a little lost.

You gave him a small, knowing smile, your voice gentle but firm. "Okay, Os. Let me take care of you."

He nodded shyly, not saying anything more, but you could feel the weight behind his request. Without saying anything else, you pressed a kiss to his lips—a gentle, lingering kiss that was both a question and an invitation. When you pulled back, you gave him a small, smile, and you could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

Slowly, you slid down to your knees in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs as you looked up at him, making sure he was comfortable with what was happening. Oscar’s breath caught in his throat, his hands shaking a little as he helped you unbuckle his race suit. You took your time, pulling it down carefully, ensuring he felt at ease with the situation.

When his pants finally came off, you reached up to gently touch his chest, calming him further. His eyes were closed now, his breathing shallow. You leaned in, your lips brushing over his skin, your fingers tracing the edges of his muscles, comforting him in ways that words couldn’t.

Oscar was no longer tense, his body slowly unraveling beneath your touch. The tightness in his shoulders, the stiffness in his jaw—all of it began to fade as you worked him over with slow, deliberate care. You kissed your way down his body, mapping each inch of his skin with reverence, pressing your lips to the places where tension lingered, coaxing him into relaxation with every deliberate movement.

His breath hitched as your mouth found its way lower, and you could feel the slightest tremor roll through him, his body caught between pleasure and relief. His fireproofs clung to his skin, the heat of the race still lingering on him, but none of that mattered now. His muscles, once tight with frustration, melted under your attention, each kiss, each touch dissolving the weight of the race he had carried with him.

Every time you drew another shudder from him, you noticed the way his body reacted—the way his fingers twitched at his sides before curling into the couch, the way his thighs tensed beneath your palms only to relax moments later. His breath grew uneven, small gasps slipping past his lips despite his attempts to hold them back. When you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, he squeezed back instantly, grounding himself in your touch.

The intimacy wasn’t lost on either of you.

You kept your movements steady, pulling him back from the downward spiral of self-doubt, replacing his frustration with something else entirely. This was about more than just pleasure—it was about comfort, about giving him an escape, a moment where nothing else existed but the warmth of your touch and the way you made him feel.

Oscar’s gasps grew heavier, his body trembling beneath you, each moment unraveling the last bit of tension he had been holding onto. He wasn’t thinking about the race anymore, wasn’t thinking about the positions lost, the mistakes made—there was only this, only you. His grip on your hand tightened as he gave in completely, his body shaking with the intensity of his release, the last remnants of frustration dissolving in the aftermath.

He was panting now, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven movements, his fingers still tangled with yours. His head lolled back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, completely undone in the best way possible. You pressed one last kiss to his thigh before pulling yourself up beside him, running your fingers through his hair.

For the first time since he stepped out of the car, Oscar looked at peace.

You stayed close, keeping him grounded in the moment, ensuring he felt cared for, wanted, and supported. After everything, it was the only thing that mattered—being there for each other when the world felt a little too heavy.

Oscar leaned back, his eyes half-lidded, a small, content smile playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. You smiled softly, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand.

“You deserve to be taken care of,” you replied, your words soothing his lingering frustrations.

Voice notes 🔊 . . . ( i wrote this at midnight I don't know what I'm doing, sorry if it's not well written enough )

[pochaccoups]

cw — a fluffy dad!cheol moment with his baby girl (ft. mom!reader)

“Appa, your hair is so long.”

Seungcheol’s daughter’s tiny fingers curl into the strands of his dark brown hair as he carries her from her bedroom to the bathroom. She’s right—it sweeps down the back of his neck, his bangs falling over his cheekbones. It’s the longest it’s been in years.

He sits her upon the counter facing the mirror and asks, “Yeah? Do you like it?” while batting his lashes. You’ve always told him he’s a princess raising a princess.

“I like it because it looks like mine!” she says, grabbing at her own hair. It doesn’t really, except maybe the colour, but she’s three and wants to look like her dad, so who is anyone to correct her?

He smiles fondly, his heart brimming with warmth as he grabs her toothbrush and hands it to her, squeezes a dot of toothpaste on it and watches her little hand make clumsy circles over her teeth. When she’s done, he rinses the sleep from her eyes and pats her delicate skin dry, and then it’s time to do her hair.

By now, Seungcheol has become an expert in hairstyling, probably more than even you are, having taken it on as one of his parental duties. He brushes it out, gathers half of it into one pigtail and secures it, then gathers the other half into another pigtail and secures it.

“What clips would you like, my love?” he asks, shaking the little box of her colourful hair clips.

“Uhhh, these!” she chirps, picking out a pair of pink ones with bunny faces on them.

His heart is doing spins and tumbles over his baby girl, and three years on he still can’t believe that something this cute is his creation. Although, he too can believe it because she’s also your creation. Still, every day he finds himself in awe that you had given him such a perfect little human. And she’s just sitting there, blinking at her reflection in the mirror as he slides the clips into the front of her hair and kisses the top of her head when he’s all done.

“So pretty,” he says, and he’s about to pick her up again until she makes a polite request.

“Appa, can I do your hair now?”

If she asked for the world, he would give it to her.

“Yes, baby, of course,” he says, and scoops her up into his arms. He grabs some of the storage boxes filled with hair bands and elastics, too. “Come on, we’ll go to the sitting room.”

Seungcheol places his daughter on the couch and settles himself on the floor in front of her so that she can reach his head. He’s not sure why he sits facing her, though it might be a subconscious inability to take his eyes off her, but she’s only three and she doesn’t question things too much, so she gets right to work.

Dainty fingers pull his fringe into one bunch at the top of his head and Seungcheol finds himself laughing already. He hands her an elastic and all she can really do is loosely loop his hair through it with intense concentration on her soft features that makes Seungcheol grin.

“Want me to tie it, my love?” he offers, reaching up when she nods to wrap it around his hair a few times. As he does that, she picks out a clip with a pink bow on it and slides it onto the front.

Her laughter bubbles through the room immediately, and Seungcheol’s chest flutters with affection.

“Appa, you look like Kkuma!” she exclaims, and he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket to open his camera, only to find that he, indeed, is a mirror image of his beloved Coton de Tulear. He snaps some selfies, makes sure to get his baby girl’s timid smile in them too.

“Should we go show mama?” he asks. She nods vigorously, so he plucks her into his arms, shuffling to the home office where you’ve been cooped up since 8 a.m. Bothering you is not an issue; you’d given him explicit permission to bother you unless you’re in a meeting, because otherwise your ‘job’ is you sitting there and playing mouse and keyboard.

Seungcheol lets his daughter be the one to knock on the door. In response, they hear a “yes?” in the form of your anticipatory voice. Seungcheol nudges the door open, heart warming at the sight of you in your comfiest attire, your hair pulled out of your face carelessly so that he can see every pretty feature that you graced your daughter with.

“Little princess did my hair,” he announces, pouting, winking, raising his eyebrows like he’s in a shoot. “What do you think?”

You can’t stop yourself from bursting into laughter immediately, nor can you stop yourself from leaving your chair and moving towards them so you can grab your husband’s cheeks.

“Oh, honey, you look so pretty,” you cry through giggles, watching as pink spreads over his cheeks. Affection boils inside you and you don’t resist the urge to kiss him, giving his lips a soft peck. “It suits you, appa.”

“I did it!” your baby squeals. She wants her credit, of course.

“Yes, you’re amazing, my love,” you gush, playing with the pigtails her father did. “Are you gonna do his hair like yours next?”

She gazes up at him with her big bug eyes, and you can only guess that she’s deciding that his current style is old news. “Yeah!”

“Alright then, go and do that and come back and show me, yeah?” you offer, smiling softly as she nods.

Seungcheol turns to leave, but before he can, you grab him by his shirt and bring your lips to his ear. “Don’t even think about cutting it, you hear me?”

He doesn’t have to say it for you to know when your husband has been contemplating a haircut. It’s a little longer, a little harder to manage, and you wonder how, after all the years you’ve spent gushing over his longer styles, he still hasn’t gotten it in his head to let it grow.

You free him, satisfied with image of (feigned) fear on his face. You catch him winking right before he closes the door.

[munsster]

hey girl!! so i was rewatching season 3 and saw the part where max and eleven are playing the spin the bottle and spying on people and had an idea! what if the reader is babysitting them and the girls drag her in to play and they spin in on steve, so she’s like “alright that’s enough” bc she doesn’t want to invade on her friends privacy but she sits through it anyway, and she hears him talking to robin about how much he likes her and wants to ask her out. IDK i thought that was cute :))

don’t hate the game

A/N: UR SO RIGHT THIS IS SO CUTE. I’m so glad i FINALLYYY found motivation to tackle it <3 (gif creds: @buckysbarnes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: The girls convince you to play an embarrassing party game from your past. It’s nothing like you remember. 2.4k words

Warnings: pet names (sweetheart, honey), ‘like’, overthinking, implied bullying, stupid pining, insecurity

It's a Friday night in the middle of summer, and you're wondering how you got here. Well, actually you're in your living room, so it's not that great of a mystery, but more confusing than that, you're letting two adolescent girls teach you how to play spin the bottle. If someone had told you at graduation that this is where you'd end up, you'd laugh right in their face.

Who's laughing now.

"But!" Max says, "if you hadn't noticed, none of these people are in the room, so how would we kiss them?"

You fight the urge to sink into your seat, blithely nodding and avoiding anything that might alienate you from your younger counterparts. You're almost sorry you surrendered your night to babysit two capable teens, but you promised El's dad who promised to pay you handsomely. Plus, they seem to like you enough to find you cool. Enough to tell you teenage secrets and complain about their boyfriends.

As they're explaining the rules, a memory creeps in of the first time you ever played this godforsaken party game. On Steve Harrington's floor in eighth grade. The cheers dying off as the mouth of the bottle slowed to a stop in your direction. No one expected him to actually lean over and kiss you. Or that you'd stay good friends despite his high school career soaring into stardom while yours sort of... didn't.

"We don't kiss them!" El chirps with an excited glint in her eye. The girls lean in like it's the first time they're hearing the rules but you're almost certain they made them up.

"Right. Instead, El here becomes our spy. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but she can see into their conversations or something. It's wicked." Max looks to El with something like admiration.

Intrigued, you glance down at the post-it notes arranged in a circle, scribbled with assorted names from yearbooks and yellow pages. A few you recognize: Mike and Lucas, one of the Hawkins Middle math teachers, even Will’s mom wasn’t safe from their antics.

But among the many names, you're most drawn to Steve. The way the letters loop and curl into his name, you go a little dizzy imagining that you really were playing the game. That he was seated across from you now. That he might lean over like he did the first time while your mind raced with a thousand possibilities. It's a prank or a dare or his wholehearted commitment to the game, anything other than his own free will.

You blink out of your silly, nostalgia-fueled trance when Max presses the cold glass bottle to your palm.

"You first."

They giggle and fall into each other when you half-twist the bottle. You're still in disbelief that you agreed to this as you watch the bottle spin, ticking off names as it loses momentum.

"Who is that?" you ask, leaning closer as if you'd read the yellow post-it wrong.

"Oh," El says. She cringes away from the board and crosses her arms over her chest in defiance.

"That bitch from P.E.," Max grumbles, and you have half a mind to scold her if you hand’t found universal bitch-aversion endlessly amusing. "You can spin again, she's not worth the trouble anyway."

You imagine your dream game once again. The bottle flies in the other direction at your fingertips, haywire and picking up a new gravity. It draws a wild, fiery line beneath your stare as you consider the possibility of Steve. It slows and slows until it's spinning almost at the same pace as Earth from a distance. Listening to the roaring sound of the universe as the bottle turns. Turns and turns and turns. Your eyes light up.

The girls giggle.

"No," you say sternly, regretting all your daydreams and fantasies in the face of cold, hard reality. "No, not Steve."

"Please!" they whine.

"Ladies, that's enough. He's a good friend, we're not spying on him."

They act like kicked puppies, though you know they're tricking you as they pout and bat their eyes. You know they know more than they should. About you. You and your feelings towards Steve Harrington. Something they discovered through a quiz in some teeny bopper magazine or other. Those magazines that somehow hold the secrets of the universe and the answers to every haircare question.

“Come on, I’ll make us popcorn and we can start a movie. A horror, if you really want.”

They seem satisfied enough, springing to the couch and settling into the cushions there.

The stove heats slowly. You fish through your cabinet for the last pan of Jiffy Pop, peeling back the thin cardboard cover when you hear snickering from the other room.

“What’s he saying?” Max whispers. You strain to hear her with your back pressed to the wall, just out of sight.

You shouldn’t be eavesdropping. You know better. You’re not a prepubescent girl anymore, you’re the babysitter with responsibilities. Like a job. Yet, you can’t seem to pull yourself away from the doorway. Every time you hear his name, your heart soars with what-ifs. You feel your eyes slip closed as El speaks.

“Steve is speaking to someone. I see her”—Your heart sinks—“Robin!”

You selfishly let out a breath. You’re mostly thankful he’s not spending his evening alone, but you also knew his friendship with Robin was strictly platonic. Robin had sworn by it without you even having to raise the question. You didn’t have to, she said, she could see it in your face. You wondered if Steve found you that transparent.

“He’s talking about… A girl. Her eyes. A smile. And he’s smiling, too. Oh, wait, now he’s frowning because Robin flicked him,” she says with a playful lilt.

She gasps.

“What?” Max yelps, shifting closer on the squeaky couch.

“Steve wants to confess his feelings. Big feelings, he says. Like-like.”

You not sure if that’s El’s paraphrase of Steve’s so-called big feelings or if the term like-like came from his own mouth. Neither option would surprise you. What does surprise you is that you’d never heard any of this from Steve before. You liked to think you were friends, even one of his best friends. He was surely one of yours. You told each other almost everything because you can’t exactly discuss complex relationships and sex with middle schoolers.

But you’d never heard of Steve’s seemingly new, mystery like-liker lover.

“He’s thinking of asking her out. Robin told him he might as well, it’s obvious that the girl he’s talking about likes him back. He doesn’t agree,” El says, her brows furrowed beneath the thick black blindfold, “Robin’s shouting. Steve looks sad.”

“What’s she saying?” Max whispers.

“Shh! ‘You like her so much, you might as well tell her and let her react. But I’ll say this, she’s going to say yes. That girl has been in love with you since the eighth grade’. He’s thinking.”

“Think faster, hair-brain!”

El giggles, her face suddenly falling serious. “‘Really?’” You stifle a laugh at the deeper voice she affects.

“‘She’s never said anything to me about it’. Robin looks angry. ‘Obviously, dingus! Do you go around telling people you’re in love with them?’”

“She has a point,” Max says. “Who’s he talking about?”

“I don’t know—Oh! Here we go,” El huffs, fists clenched eagerly, “He’s making a plan to ask her out, he’s going to call her. He’s getting up—”

Just then, the popcorn bursts from its aluminum confines with a bang. You let out a strangled noise between a yelp and a grumble, annoyed at the rude and very loud interruption. As you set the burner knob in place, you consider the fact that Steve has very real feelings for someone else. Someone who’s just not you. And as you shake the popcorn into a ceramic bowl, the landline rings.

“Will someone get that?” you call, grabbing a few small packages of sweets stashed in the cabinet. You hear the girls spring from the couch, and you shuffle into the living room to a giddy scene huddled around the receiver.

“Yes, she’s here!” El squeals. There’s a muffled response from the other line, and they share a conspiratorial glance.

“It’s for you,” Max says, handing you the phone with a smirk.

“Thank you. Go pick a movie while the popcorn’s hot.” You clear your throat, preparing yourself for the worst. Maybe your boss firing you or a repo man taking your TV. “Hello?”

“Hi, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to interrupt girl’s night, I can call back later,” Steve’s gentle voice filters clear through the speaker. In the silence, static hums, and you press the phone closer to your ear.

Trying to listen for what he might be thinking. He sounds like rain. Like Sunday and a lack of pressure. He sounds inviting and warm like that big green sweater he’s always wearing. If only you knew he wears it because you adore it. You tell him every time; why would he ever stop.

“No!” you chirp, “no, perfect timing actually, we were just about to start a movie.”

“Oh! That sounds fun,” he says. You fidget with the springy cord, facing away from the living room and from the attention of the two flittering girls.

“Yeah,” you say, hoping he doesn’t recognize the disappointment coloring your tone. “So, how’d it go?”

He chokes a little. “How’d… what? Go?” There’s a soft snicker from the other line at his incidental voice crack.

“Your… I mean, did you have something you wanted to tell me?”

The line dips, but you hadn’t heard the telltale plastic clatter of a hang up. Just soft shuffling and a curse from under his breath. You curdle at the near silence.

“What did Robin tell you?” he grumbles.

“What? Nothing. Was she supposed to?”

“Well, no! I just called to tell you—”

He goes silent, and this time you’re actually convinced he hung up. There’s no sound at all, and you double check your receiver to make sure the problem’s not on your end.

“Stevie?”

“Yep, sorry. Just… feel silly.”

“Okay, you’re starting to scare me a little,” you hum, clutching onto the handheld.

“No! Sorry, not trying to scare you, honey, I just need to get something off my chest. But it’s not scary. Or, well, I guess it could be taken that way, and that would be okay. A little sad, but yeah, no hard feelings—”

At this point, you’re sure he’s talking about his prospective date. He knows you have a stupid, obvious crush on him, and he’s trying to soften the blow of new romantic conquest. Of course, introducing his new girlfriend to you would be terrifying, but you’d always put on a brave face for Steve. He knows that. He’d do the same for you.

“Steve?”

“Yeah.”

“Just get it over with,” you sigh, leaning your head against the wall and bracing for heartache.

“Right. Not trying to waste your time. Here goes.”

I’ve got a new, smoking hot girlfriend who just agreed to go on a date with me. And she’s got beautiful eyes and a gorgeous smile, and I’ve been in love with her since I can remember, and we’re gonna run away together forever and get married and have perfect babies.

“I like you,” he huffs.

“Well, duh, I like you, too, you’re only my closest friend,” you say. You’re tense, waiting for the other shoe to come hurling through the skylight. “Now, tell me.”

“No, sweetheart, I like-like you. Have since I was nine. Miss Boyd’s class, if I’m not mistaken.” There’s a soft thud like his forehead colliding with the wall beside his phone.

You inhale a shaky breath. He’s kidding, and it’s a prank. Your heart races, and you want to curse him out for picking on you. He should know better. Right?

“Steve,” you warble, “please tell me you’re joking.”

There’s more shuffling, muffled voices, and you think you’ve just exposed one long drawn out joke. You’re about to hang up with what’s left of your dignity when he says:

“Are you rejecting me?”

He sounds almost mad. Hair ruffled, skin on edge. How you imagine his father might sound just before one of his awful fits. But there’s something much softer to Steve, more understanding. Hurt like a child.

Still, you can’t help your suspicion.

“Quit it. I know it’s a joke, don’t drag it out.”

“Hey, wait a second,” he urges, “It’s not a joke. I like you. A lot.” He says it so softly, your heart just might believe him. As if all the stars have aligned, and he’s actually confessing his feelings for you. You didn’t think the stars did that. Not really, anyway.

There’s a new tune to his voice you’d almost name teasing, “c’mon, don’t leave me hangin’.”

And just like that, he’s back in school again, fawning over you from a distance, finding any excuse to tag you during recess only to avoid you in class so you wouldn’t see him blush. He’s back to whispered secrets through the phone at midnight so his parents wouldn’t catch him. He only ever told you what wouldn’t give him away. He’s back to not letting you pay for your ice cream and shrugging it off with a smile. He’s back, and he might just be yours.

“I—Sorry, you like me? Like like-like, like enough to ask me on a real date?” you huff. He chuckles.

“Well, that last part kinda depends on whether or not you like me back. But yes, I like-like like like-like you.”

You spin to face the living room only to be confronted by an empty popcorn bowl and two fidgety, blushing, wide-eyed teens. They urge you for answers, gesturing wildly and wiggling towards you across the floor.

“Of course, I like you. I thought you knew.”

“Everyone keeps saying that. I guess I was too distracted,” he admits.

“I guess we both were,” you say, unable to keep a grin from your face, succumbing to joy as your fingers dance along the telephone cord.

“So, how about that date?” It escapes him barely above a whisper. He can’t believe he’s actually saying it after all this time. The only thing that convinces him it even came out is your soft laughter.

“Sounds wonderful!”

“Good!” he coos.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Great, yeah. That’s… I can’t wait.” He’s earnest until his cheeks hurt, and Robin teases him for it.

“Tomorrow, it is,” you purr, nearly in tune with the low hum of the receiver, “I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget: I like-like you.”

You smile, slotting the phone back into its place. A chorus of giggles erupts at your feet. Spin the bottle had been a good idea, after all.

stranger things masterlist

[222col]

bimbo!reader x art donaldson

summary: art gets a private fashion show from his favourite girl, but he can't keep his hands to himself

cw .ᐟ nsfw, public setting

"mm, what'd ya think of this one?" art's in heaven. his pretty little thing giving him his own personal fashion show. he's half tempted to call up his first coach and thank him for work he did, 'cause there's no way he'd have you in your pretty pink dresses parading around for him if he never made it. fuck the tennis, art couldn't care for the slams, his babygirl is the best thing that ever came from his fame.

legs spread as he sits in the leather chair outside the dressing room. "so pretty, baby." he hums, you're a fucking vision, art can barely form any sentences that aren't compliments when you're in front of him. especially when you're in and out of a dressing room showing him all the dresses he gets to spend his money on. his perfect little doll, playing dress up with his prize winnings. he's living the fucking dream.

waltzing back behind the curtain, changing into more clothing for art to add to his credit card bills. sliding into the baby pink lingerie set, little bows darted over the fabric, smirking to yourself before you pull back the curtain, knowing full well art's about to combust at the sight.

"jesus christ," art breathes out, his throat feeling tight as his hands clutch the arms of the chair. his whole body feels hot, and he's sure if he looked down there'd be a damp spot starting to show on his slacks. "you're gonna kill me one of these days, princess."

your sweet giggle has art nearly pulling you into his lap, his knuckles white, still clutching the chair, as forces himself to resist. the sounds of rustling in the other dressing rooms pulling him back down to reality. crossing one leg over the other, in some lame attempt to cover up the obvious bulge in his pants. he's desperate to reach out and touch you, but art knows he wouldn't be able to stop if he did.

faux innocent smile on your face as you turn back into the dressing room, being sure to bend over for your own clothes on the floor before closing the curtain. "oh fuck me." art mutters, head falling back before he's pushing himself into the dressing room with you and closing the curtain behind him.

"you are so evil, babygirl." he purrs into your ear, big hands pulling you by the waist against his body. eyes darting all over figure through the mirror behind you, before spinning you around to face yourself in the reflection. one hand gripping where your throat meets your jaw, forcing your eyes to his through the mirror.

"didn't even do anythin', artie." you murmur, batting those long lashes at him.

"liar," art whispers into your ear, gently biting down on the lobe before trailing his lips across the side of your neck. the hand resting on your hip starts to move over your stomach, teasing the hem of the lace panties you were trying on for him. "gonna be nice and quiet for me, pretty girl?"

lip between your teeth as you nod your head, eyes glued to his through the mirror before darting down to watch his hand slip under the fabric of your underwear. art's mouth peppers your throat with wet kisses as his fingers slide up through your folds, spreading your wetness over your heat, humming against your skin as he does.

biting down gently on your shoulder as art slips his middle finger inside, his thumb circling against your clit. "oh, hmm— artie, oh—" you breathe out, before his hand on your jaw moves to clamp down over your mouth. "be quiet, baby." he orders gently, adding his ring finger inside you to move in time with his previous. your knees growing weak as art fucks his fingers in and out of you.

brows furrowed in pleasure, hot breath against his hand while his thumb matches the pace of his fingers inside you against your bundle of nerves. the sounds of those around you still present in your ear, too busy to pay any mind to the whispers of suspect to what you and art were doing. art's hips start to move against your ass, providing him some much needed friction, his own groans muffled into the side of your neck.

"art!" not even his hand can muffle the moan of his name leaving your lips, chuckling into your skin as his fingers keep fucking you. "shush, babygirl." he purrs, nipping the skin of your earlobe once more, pouting behind his hand over your face. the squelch of his fingers filling the empty noise of the dressing room, your knees starting to threaten to buckle as the band in your stomach grows tighter.

"god, look how fuckin' pretty you look, baby," art coos into your ear, watching every subtle reaction of your body through the mirror. his cock leaking through the fabric of his pants as he continues grinding against you.

"gonna cum on my fingers, pretty? be my good little girl?" the whispered words have you buckling onto him, barely holding back the moans as you fall apart under his touch. art's fingers don't halt, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. only slowing sliding out of you as your body starts to shake, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking the taste of you from them as he drops his hand from your face.

smiling around his fingers as he savours every bit of your wetness, still meeting your eyes through the reflection as his he holds you up against him still. spinning you around to him afterwards, big hands resting on your hips as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "so good for me, princess."

"art?" you hum, tilting your head as you try to bite back a giggle.

"yeah, babygirl?" he murmurs softly, bringing his hands up to your jaw, angling your face up to his eyes. "did you, um, did you just cum in your pants?" you manage to ask through soft giggles, lip between your teeth as you watch the pink blush spread across his cheeks.

"you're too damn sexy, baby, can't help it."

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Gangster's Wife - Minho

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: mafia boss! Minho x fem! reader

summary: Your father owes a lot of money to a lot of bad people. So when a ruthless gangster shows up demanding payment, you offer yourself instead.

warnings: gun use, gun play, virgin reader, choking, breath play, slight dubcon, fingering, nipple play, lots of praise, unprotected sex, pet names

Minho ran his hand over the cool metal of his gun. Snow was beginning to fall and the drop in temperature was causing his breath to cloud around your father's face. “This is your last chance, old man. Where's my fucking money?”

Your father stammered and stuttered while Minho cocked his gun, pressing the barrel into his temple. You stood in the hallway of your childhood home. You knew your father had gambling issues. But you had no idea he had gotten involved with the most notorious Mafia in Seoul.

Minho's expression remains cold and unyielding as he listens to your father's desperate pleas. He tightens his grip on the gun and cocks it, the sound echoing through the room. "You have until midnight tonight," he growls. You stand frozen watching the scene play out before you. And somehow your own voice cuts through the tension, “take me instead!”

Minho's eyes flicker to you, his gaze appraising as he takes in your slender frame and youthful appearance. A small smirk plays on his lips as he lowers the gun from your father's head. "You think you can replace your father's debt with yourself? How cute.”

Tears start to well in your eyes while your father collapses on the floor. You lock eyes with him for a moment as he shakes his head desperately. Still, you stand your ground stepping forward towards the terrifying gangster. “Please!” You beg, “I'll do anything! Just leave my father be.”

Minho's smirk grows more pronounced as he considers your offer, circling you like a predator. "Anything, hmm?" He steps closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You truly have no idea what you're offering, do you?” He holsters his gun behind him and roughly grabs your arm. His calloused hands grip your skin as he pulls you towards his car parked outside. Before you could utter the words wait or goodbye to your father, you were whisked away to a sprawling manor. Once inside his luxurious mansion, Minho pushes you against the wall, his body pressing close. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" He murmurs, his hand reaching up to tilt your chin. 

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “No! I'm not a…” your voice trails off in an obvious lie. Minho's eyes narrow, his grip on your chin tightening. "Liar," he accuses, his voice dripping with disdain. "I can smell your innocence, feel it in the way you tremble.”

Without a second thought, you make a reach for his gun still holstered away. But as soon as you make a move for his gun, Minho's reflexes kick in. He grabs your wrist mid-air, his eyes flashing with anger and a hint of something else - was that amusement? He spins you around and slams you against the wall again. He pins your arm behind your back, his other hand reaching up to wrap around your throat. He squeezes, cutting off your air supply. "Trying to steal my gun, huh? You really are a foolish little thing," he chuckles, his breath warm against your ear. You let out a soft whimper, your body attempting and failing to break free from Minho's grasp. He tightens his hold around your neck, enjoying your struggling attempts to free yourself. He can feel your pulse fluttering under his hand, a sign that you're running out of oxygen. He pulls out his gun and places it on the table beside you, within his reach but not yours. “You know what I could do right now?” He whispers roughly into your ear, his expression unreadable. You feel the familiar sensation of his other hand on you again, this time finding your bare thigh. "I could fuck you right here against this wall," he says calmly, his fingers creeping higher up your thigh. He's still holding you in a chokehold, making it hard for you to speak or move. "No one would hear you scream. You'd be all mine.” 

You feel your heart pounding in your ears at his threat. But soon his grip loosens around your neck. Minho releases your neck completely, watching you slowly step back from the wall as the tear rolls down your cheek. He reaches up to wipe it away with his thumb, his expression softening ever so slightly. You glance at his hands as he grabs his gun again from the table. He adjusts it in its holster, his eyes fixed on you as you wipe your tears. He seems to be fighting an internal battle, his expression torn. He takes a deep breath and speaks, his tone surprisingly gentle. "That should teach you to throw yourself into the flames of Hell for someone else. It's dangerous out here, princess. Come here.” He reaches out and gently catches your wrist, pulling you closer. His touch is surprisingly tender, completely different from how roughly he handled you before. He studies your face, noting the lingering fear in your eyes. "No more tears.” You nod your head softly, still keeping a cautious distance from the terrifying gangster. "Good girl," Minho murmurs, his thumb rubbing your wrist soothingly. He unexpectedly reaches out to wipe a smudge of mascara under your eye. Your heart flutters for a moment. The feeling of his hand so soft causing a fire to start to burn in the pit of your stomach. He releases your wrist and gestures for you to sit down on the couch next to him. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across Minho's face as he watches you move towards him and sit carefully next to him on the couch. He reaches out and cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Such a good girl," he praises, his voice low and husky. "You have no idea how much trouble you're getting yourself into.” Your eyes roll back for a moment from the mix of his expensive cologne and devilishly smooth accent. You lean instinctively as he speaks. His breathing becomes slightly heavier as he maintains his position, studying your expression intently. His free hand moves to rest on your thigh. "Tell me..." He whispers again, his voice thick with desire "Do you want me to kiss you?" His thumb traces your lower lip. “Yes…” you whisper unexpectedly, your warm breath mingling with his. A satisfied smirk plays at the corners of Minho's mouth at your honest response.

Without hesitation, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His fingers tilt your chin up, controlling the angle while his other hand grips your thigh firmly. You let out a soft moan and he swallows it greedily, deepening the kiss further. His tongue pushes past your lips to explore your mouth, tasting and teasing you. He breaks the kiss suddenly, leaving you breathless. His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath. "You taste even better than I imagined.” With one hand still on your face, his other hand trails up your inner thigh, fingertips ghosting over your already soaked panties. "You're such a good girl, being so ready for me." His voice is low and teasing as he presses against your center through the fabric "But tell me something,” He demands softly, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your underwear. "Have you ever been touched here before?" His fingers trace the edge of your virgin territory, teasing but not entering. You shake your head while Minho's eyes soften as he takes in your innocent form. He places a gentle, tender kiss against your neck. His hand moves away for a moment and you panic that he may stop. That you may never feel this excitement and danger ever again. But then his fingers slowly push your panties aside, exposing your dampened folds. He gently parts you with his fingers, revealing your tight, untouched entrance. "Good girl for telling the truth.” Your back arches from the gentle praise. The vibration of his voice against your neck causes your nipples to harden. He notices your excited nipples and smirks, leaning down to capture one through your dress with his mouth. He sucks and nibbles gently, his fingers still holding you open. His middle finger slowly circles your entrance, gathering your virgin wetness. You cover your mouth with your hand and instinctively push your chest further into Minho’s mouth. The strap of your dress falls haphazardly off your shoulder. Minho takes the hint and pulls the other strap down, exposing your breasts fully. He switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first. His finger finally pushes inside you, just the tip, testing your virgin tightness. He groans against your breast. Your mind flashes with the stories of how everyone had lost their virginity. You braced yourself for pain but there was none. You just wanted more. Minho's single finger continues to move inside of you while his mouth nibbles and pulls at your hardened nipples. Your hips thrust clumsily into his hand, desperate for more. Minho groans against your sensitive breast as he slides another finger inside your tight hole, stretching you slowly. “It feels…so good. Please, don't stop.” Minho's breathing hitches at your innocent admission, his fingers moving faster now, hitting your most sensitive spots. "That's it, sweetheart, come for me like this first. Show me how virgin tight you are." His thumb finds your clit and starts rubbing in fast circles as his fingers curl deeper. His fingers continue moving inside you as you come undone, feeling your tight channel clench around them. With a satisfied smirk, he moves back up to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss, silencing your cries. He slowly removes his fingers, showing them to you - glistening with your virgin juices. Your eyes slowly open again, your head lifting back up to face Minho who was now on top of you, caging you in. His expression turns serious, his eyes locked with yours. "Look into my eyes. I want to see your face when I take your virginity." He positions himself between your legs, his hands spreading your thighs wider. "This might hurt a little, but just look at me and breathe.”

This was it. The stories. The fairytales. The warnings. Why did you thrust yourself into harm's way? Into the open arms of the devil himself? He starts to slowly push himself inside you, watching your face intently. Your body is struggling to accommodate his size, and you let out a whimper as he continues. Then he stops moving, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. "Breathe with me, sweetheart.” He repeats. His eyes never leave yours, watching you with the utmost care and protecting as he sheaths himself deeper. "Shh, look at me..." He pants, his face contorted with concentration and the urge to push deeper. "You're so tight, it's like trying to fit a king-sized bed in a dollhouse." He tries to push deeper, encountering little resistance as your body slowly opens to him. He grits his teeth, his hands shaking with the effort of not pushing too hard, too fast. He can feel your tight walls stretching around him, trying to accommodate his size. He finally bottoms out inside you, his entire length buried inside your virgin pussy. He stays still for a moment, savoring the feeling of being completely inside you. Minho watches your face still. Your eyes lock with his, your pupils dilating and expanding you with each breath. Then he starts to move, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulls out and pushes back in. He can feel your cervix pressing against the tip of his dick with each thrust. "That's right, you're mine now. This perfect cunt belongs to me.” You lace your fingers together around the back of his neck. Your face just inches from his as he keeps his steady pace. You part your mouth to moan but instead you whine, “show me what you've got.” Minho's movements quicken, becoming more forceful as he hears your words. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. He grabs your waist roughly, pulling you closer as he thrusts harder. A devilish smirk splitting across his face. His free hand moves to his holster, never breaking his rhythm. The cold metal of his gun presses against your neck as he thrusts deep inside you. “You really do like to play with fire, don't you?” He whispers roughly with his index finger on the trigger. Your body pulsates with a new and unexplored heat that courses through your veins like a deadly poison. Minho chuckles darkly, increasing his pace "Good girl, such a good little mafia princess." He presses the gun harder against your neck, using his dominant position to assert control "Now, who owns this tight little virgin cunt? Say it…”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat @kibs-and-bits @minhosgirlposts

[madaqueue]

KEEP OUT THE COLD — suguru geto x f!reader

request | event masterlist | smut : trapped in a snowstorm (fingering, 1.2k)

the breath comes from your lips like a ghost, grey and foggy, almost real but never quite; you shiver.

“we might be stuck here,” suguru says, the first sign he’s returned with those light steps that carry him silently. he says the words carefully, placing them into the otherwise empty room besides the couch you’ve curled up into and the half-broken fireplace in the opposite corner. dark eyes watch for your reaction, wait for you to panic, or worse, cry.

“i think…i think the heat is b-broken.”

yes, you shiver, and yes, you look nearly frozen against the cracked leather cushions, but you don’t look terrified. when the tears never come, suguru laughs, and you swear the temperature goes up a few degrees.

“yeah, it is. i don’t think there’s any power in this place, at least not that i could find outside.” your chapped lips curl into a frown, and he chuckles again. “but i did find some wood out there. let’s light a fire and make the most of this, yeah?”

at the question, he tilts his head, remnants of snowflakes falling from his shoulders and onto the cabin’s old wooden floorboards. it makes you giggle when he does that - ‘you look like a dog’ you used to say, and he’d just smile. ‘i’d happily be your dog.’ - and sigh. “okay.”

“okay.” he claps his hands together and is gone.

when he returns, it’s with stacks of logs and more snow decorating his hair, friendly stars in an unfamiliar night sky. it’s dark outside now, you’re sure of it, even with the windows boarded closed to keep the wind out.

the attempt to drive in this weather had been stupid, you knew it was stupid, but both of you were too headstrong to heed anyone’s warnings. the resort was only a few hours away, how bad could it really be? and how long had it been since the two of you took a vacation together? no, you weren’t about to miss it for a few flurries.

ah. how stupid you had been. at least this abandoned little house had appeared through the blinding white just in time, the car’s wheels nearly spinning out as you pulled into the overgrown driveway.

a loud crackle pulls you back, back to the unfamiliar living room, the cold leather on your back, the icy air in your lungs. but then, a spark, and flames burn softly in the tiny fireplace.

suguru stares at it proudly, dusting a few remaining wood chips from his palms.

“how did you do that?” you ask - he loves when you get excited about things like this, when he gets to show off just a little.

“what can i say,” he grins, pride blooming between his teeth, “i’m a man of many talents.”

before you can even laugh, he’s pulled you into his lap, thick arms encasing your torso and holding you against him. with more frosty air circling around your body, you shiver again.

“now, let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

“yeah,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest.

it’s better already, with his cotton t-shirt on your skin, with his heartbeat below your cheek. your shaking slows, but doesn’t stop; above you, suguru frowns.

“your clothes are wet.”

“oh,” you murmur, “probably from the snow when we ran inside.”

three beats of his heart - he’s thinking. “you won’t get warm if your clothes are wet.”

“wha-”

before you can ask, he’s picked you up and placed you back on the couch (in his spot, where the leather is warmer), and gone into another room. this time, when he returns, blankets spill over his elbows and graze the floor.

they’re set next to you on the couch, before he’s leaning over you; hot breath tickles your ear when he speaks.

“you’ll never warm up with those clothes on. why don’t you take them off?” for me, goes unsaid.

when you shiver, it’s not from the cold.

the damp cloth is peeled painstakingly from your body - you wince at the loss, before being immediately wrapped in something softer. two layers of blankets, and suguru pulls you down next to him.

“there,” he sighs, letting his fingers trail over your jaw, the nape of your neck. “isn’t that better?”

it’s just the warmth that makes your cheeks burn, you swear - not the way he’s looking at you like you lit the sun, nor the way his lips curl to show teeth as if he’d like to swallow it whole.

“mhm.”

“ah,” he corrects, tapping a thumb to your lips. “what do we say?”

your skin tingles, vibrating, hot. “t-thank you suguru.”

“good,” he purrs.

there’s a giggle when he pulls his hand away and you let out a little whine, a small protest at the loss of contact, chilled in the absence of his palm.

“aw, still cold?”

you nod into his shoulder.

“well,” he breathes, pulling you further into him until you’re both laying across the couch, trapped under wool blankets, “i can help, if you’d like.”

“yes, please, suguru.” the words come out in a single exhale; he grins.

then, his hands are trailing lower. they dance along your collarbones, over your chest. one remains there, kneading the tender flesh of your tits, pinching already-hardened nipples (you’d blame the cold, if he asked; he’d let you lie to his face).

the other, meanwhile, ventures further.

down over your ribs, your stomach, your thighs. even in those narrow, lithe fingertips, everything is hot in their wake.

when they find their way between your legs, you shiver again. suguru chuckles, a puff of frosted air in the ever-closing space between you.

“still cold?” he chides, but the words have no bite to them, even when you can see his canines digging into his lower lip. “so needy.”

a whimper escapes your throat, but that seems to be the correct response, because suguru finally brushes his thumb against your clit. it makes you gasp, and nearly choke from the stiff air filling your lungs. he just grins.

“aw, you really do need me to help you, don’t you?”

“y-yes.”

“yes, what?”

“yes, please, suguru.”

“good.” teeth that could chew apart stars; a finger finally sunk into your aching cunt. you keen, and the hand on your chest holds you tighter.

a second finger, and you’re writhing in his grasp. when he kisses you, it sucks the light from every corner of the room, until he’s glowing (he’d provide for you in every way if he could; he’d be your sun and pull the moon from the sky so night never touched you, so you’d only ever need him, his warmth).

hot fingertips press into you, into the spot that has your legs shaking, skin sweating. each pant clouds between your open mouth and his, aching, pulling, burning.

“suguru, i’m gonna-”

a low hum, one that emanates from his chest. a correction, a reminder.

“suguru, c-can i please cum?”

soft lips smile against your chapped ones. “of course.”

and with that, his wrist picks up, deeper, harder, faster. fingers pull and pinch at your nipples, teeth sink into your neck. you whine out his name as you finish, until you’re foggy and limp in his arms.

you barely catch the way he pulls his hand from your legs, lifting it to his lips and sucking your cum from it, but you taste it when he kisses you again, hot and claiming.

a soft palm rubs up your spine, and you melt into the touch. he tucks you into his shoulder for safe keeping.

“warm enough?” he asks. you mutter something, liquid words he knows are ‘yes, suguru,’ into his skin. the flickering fire dances across his eyes, and he holds you tighter.

a/n: KAIROOOO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!! THANK YOU FOR LOVING THIS STRANGE COMPLEX MAN WITH ME!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!

[hisfavegirl]

Three Suns in Orbit - Poly!Marauders x Reader.

Summary : You hadn’t meant to become theirs. It wasn’t something you planned, or even dreamed about. You were just another student at Hogwarts—clever, calm, composed, a bit mysterious in your own right. You had always kept to the corners of rooms, the quiet spaces of libraries, the in-between places where you didn’t have to be seen unless you wanted to be. Looks across the Great Hall that lingered too long. Brushes of fingertips as they passed by in corridors. Casual conversations that seemed to echo in your mind long after they ended. They drew you in like gravity—pulling you closer, threading themselves into the rhythm of your days, until their presence was something you ached for. It wasn’t just one of them. It was all three. They didn’t fight over you. They didn’t make you choose. They just waited. Until you leaned in too.

Warning : All The Characters is Age up, Smut +18, Dom!Sirius, Dom!James, Dom!Remus, Tits Playing, Oral (F receiving), Fingering, Rough Sexs, Creampie, Overstimulation, Little Bit Fluff, Size Kink(?), Praising Kink, Bulge Kink(?).

The Marauders Masterlist.

Wizarding World Masterlist.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The heavy wooden door creaked as you pushed it open, your body practically aching with exhaustion. The air was thick with the scent of parchment, something floral from Remus’s enchanted soap, and the faint musk of boys who’d spent the last hour goofing off between duels and laughter. You exhaled deeply—a soft, frustrated sigh—and let the door fall shut behind you with a dull click.

Sirius and James were on the floor, their wands pointed toward an apple that was now levitating mid-air and spinning lazily. Their shirts were unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair disheveled from a mix of playful hexes and too much confidence. Remus was on James’s bed, legs stretched out, a thick book resting open in his lap, his finger idly stroking the edge of the page as his eyes flicked up to you.

You felt heavy. Like even the air pressing against your skin was too much. Ancient Runes had drained every last drop of your energy—hours spent deciphering archaic symbols, double-checking translations, with Professor Babbling breathing down your neck. Your back ached from leaning over your notes, and your brain felt like melted wax.

The moment James saw you, his boyish grin softened into something warmer. Sweeter. He set his wand aside, nudged Sirius without a word, and stood. His arms opened without hesitation, his chest welcoming. No teasing, no smirking—just him, waiting for you.

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t.

You crossed the room with slow, dragging steps, your heart pounding not from desire, but from relief—because this, right here, was home.

James’s body was solid as you fell into him. Your face pressed into the curve of his neck, right where his pulse thudded strong and steady, and you just breathed. Your fingers gripped the back of his shirt, knuckles white, and you sank deeper into his warmth, like slipping beneath the surface of a still, sunlit lake.

He exhaled shakily into your hair, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other circling your waist, holding you like you might dissolve if he let go. His voice was low, roughened by something more than concern. “You’re tense, baby… what happened?”

You didn’t answer right away. You just let yourself be held.

After a long moment, you whispered against his neck, lips brushing the skin there, “Everything. Ancient Runes. My brain is… fried. My body’s sore. I hate it. I just needed… this.”

James’s grip tightened a fraction. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. You’re brilliant—even when you’re exhausted.”

You shivered. Maybe it was his breath against your skin, or the way Sirius and Remus watched in silence now, the room holding its breath as if they could feel how close you were to breaking.

Sirius stood, stretching with a lazy grace, and crossed to the bed where you and James stood tangled in one another. “C’mon, dove. Let’s get you out of that uniform and into something soft,” he murmured, fingers already brushing your sleeve. His voice was velvet and storm clouds, and something in his touch made you ache differently.

You felt the bed dip behind you. Remus. You didn’t need to look to know. His presence always calmed you. Always grounded you.

“You push too hard,” he murmured, his hand stroking down your arm now. “You carry more than you let on. Let us take care of you tonight.”

You felt like you were unraveling in their hands. The stress, the tiredness, the frustration—it all melted with every soft word, every warm touch. There was nothing rushed, nothing frantic. Just soft intimacy. Devotion in the way James kissed the top of your head. Worship in the way Sirius tucked your hair behind your ear. Steadiness in the way Remus touched you like he was reading your soul, not your body.

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” James whispered. “Just let go.”

You stood in the quiet center of their world, the boys moving around you with the kind of gentleness reserved for glass or sacred things. Your limbs felt heavy, your head cloudy from exhaustion, but being here—wrapped in their presence—slowed the spinning in your chest. It was a safe unraveling.

James’s hands slid to your back, warm and sure as he unclasped your bra with practiced ease. His fingertips brushed along your spine in the softest, most reverent trail, as though he were memorizing you all over again. You let out a long sigh, your shoulders sinking, tension bleeding from your bones.

“You’ve been carrying too much,” he said quietly, his lips brushing your shoulder as he slipped the straps down your arms, letting the lace fall away. “Let us hold some of it.”

Before the chill could touch your skin, Sirius was in front of you, his smirk laced with affection. He held out one of his oversized shirts, the fabric soft and worn and smelling like him—like leather, clove, and something unnameably wild.

“Here, sweetheart,” he murmured, helping guide your arms through the sleeves. “Didn’t want you catching cold. You know, unless you wanted a reason to crawl into my bed.”

You laughed, soft and breathy, tilting your head back as he pulled it gently over your head. The hem brushed mid-thigh, just enough to tease, and Sirius’s eyes followed the line of your bare legs with open hunger—but not the kind that devours. The kind that worships.

Remus was already seated behind you on the bed, arms outstretched, and you melted into him like it was instinct. His chest was warm against your back, his hand finding your thigh as the others knelt before you, unfastening the clasp of your skirt with slow, unhurried fingers. The fabric pooled to the floor, leaving you in nothing but Sirius’s shirt and soft black panties.

James inhaled slowly through his nose, dragging his gaze up your thighs like a man studying art. Sirius’s tongue slid across his bottom lip before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss just above your knee. “Look at you,” he whispered, “like a little painting come to life.”

Remus bent his head, his breath hot as it met the curve of your neck. You felt his lips first—featherlight, reverent. Then the slow, warm drag of his mouth against your skin, like he wanted to leave poems behind in kisses only you could read.

“You’re…” he murmured between kisses, his voice raw and thick with emotion. “You’re incredible. Do you know that?”

You chuckled softly, your hand curling around his forearm as your head tilted, exposing more of your neck to him. “I try to be.”

“No,” he said, pressing another kiss just below your ear. “You just are. Even when you’re too tired to hold yourself up, you still shine.”

James sat back on his heels in front of you, his hand resting on your knee, thumb stroking slow circles. His eyes locked on yours—no teasing, no mischief, just adoration. “Let us take it from here, baby.”

You nodded, your heart drumming a slow, content rhythm. You felt like a flame cradled in palms that would never let you burn out.

They didn’t rush. They didn’t strip you bare in hunger—they peeled away the day with every word, every touch. Sirius lay beside you now, his fingers tracing slow lines across your thigh under the hem of his shirt, while Remus’s arms wrapped around you tighter, anchoring you, grounding you. James sat at the foot of the bed, one hand still wrapped around your ankle, as though keeping you tethered.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Remus whispered into your skin.

“Not tonight,” James said, kissing your shin.

“Just be ours,” Sirius added, voice low, threading his fingers through yours. “Just for a little while.”

The dorm was quiet now—quiet in that intimate, breathless way. Moonlight slanted through the tall windows in long silver ribbons, catching the edge of James’s bed where you lay, wrapped in Sirius’s oversized shirt and the arms of three boys who knew you deeper than anyone else ever had.

You’d just shifted to cuddle closer to Remus, your head tucked under his jaw, when Sirius made a low, amused sound. You felt it before you saw it—the slight change in the air, the heat behind you intensifying.

Then his mouth was on your neck.

It started with a single, teasing kiss. Right below your ear, where your skin was warm and sensitive. You giggled, instinctively squirming in Remus’s lap, but Sirius only chuckled into your skin, the sound rich and sinful.

“Hold still, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and thick. “You know I hate being interrupted.”

“She’s mine right now,” Remus teased, tightening his arms around your waist.

Sirius tsked. “Not anymore.”

With a possessive tug, Sirius gripped your hips and gently shifted you, guiding you out of Remus’s arms and into his lap with a confidence that made your pulse skip. You didn’t protest. You couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that—like you were starlight and sin wrapped into one.

“Let me have her for a bit,” he said over your shoulder to Remus. “You can read your book or something.”

Remus smirked, lounging back against the pillows, his fingers still brushing your thigh. “Only if she wants you to.”

You turned your head just enough to meet Sirius’s gaze, your green eyes playful but soft. “I want to.”

Sirius groaned softly, as if those words flipped something inside him.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

And then he was kissing your neck again—more insistent this time, his mouth dragging over your skin like he was starved for the taste of you. You tilted your head back, giving him space, letting him claim you in the only way he knew how—bold, unfiltered, hungry.

One of his hands cradled your waist, anchoring you in place while the other slowly slid beneath the hem of the shirt you wore—his shirt. His fingers brushed your stomach first, the pad of his thumb circling lazily before drifting higher, higher, until—

You gasped, sharp and soft all at once, when his hand cupped your breast. The sensation was warm, grounding, and intimate—like a secret passed in the dark. His thumb brushed across your nipple and a small moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

He growled against your neck, the vibration of it lighting fire across your collarbone. “Fuck, baby… the sounds you make.”

Your breath hitched, the moment suddenly heavy with something deeper than arousal—something raw. You felt every part of him: his hand, his breath, the tension in his muscles as if he were holding back for you.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he whispered, voice ragged, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “You walk into the room and it’s like—like nothing else exists. Just you.”

You turned slightly, catching the edge of his mouth with yours, a soft kiss that lingered longer than expected. He groaned again, squeezing gently, drawing another moan from your lips that echoed into his mouth.

“Careful,” you whispered, breathless, playful but trembling beneath the surface. “You’ll ruin me for anyone else.”

“You already ruined me,” he replied, his voice husky, reverent. “Every part of you.”

Behind you, Remus’s fingers traced slow circles into your thigh, his presence quiet but grounding.

James, from across the room, called softly, “Don’t tire her out. I want my turn.”

Sirius smirked against your skin, kissing your collarbone, his hand still beneath your shirt. “Not ruining her. Just reminding her she’s ours.”

You sighed, melting further into him, body humming with sensation and safety all at once.

And for a long, suspended moment, all there was—was the warmth of skin, the softness of breath, and the quiet between heartbeats.

The moon hung high outside the tall windows, silver light catching the lines of Sirius’s face as he stared up at you, pupils wide, his lips swollen from the kisses he’d trailed across your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers trembling slightly against your waist—not from nerves, but restraint.

“Merlin, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, like gravel wrapped in silk.

He slid his hands up beneath his shirt—your shirt for the night—his fingers slow, almost reverent. Then, with a soft tug at the hem, he opened it, spreading the fabric wide. Cool air kissed your bare skin and you gasped lightly, your chest rising and falling in anticipation.

You giggled breathlessly, the tension melting into warmth, as Sirius gave you that familiar grin—cocky and utterly enamored.

“I should frame this view,” he muttered, eyes locked on you like you were art and ruin and salvation all in one.

Then his mouth was on you.

A sudden, searing heat as his lips wrapped around your nipple, his tongue flicking with agonizing slowness. Your moan was immediate, soft and helpless, echoing in the silence of the dorm. His hand found your other breast, fingers squeezing gently, his palm warm against your flushed skin.

“Sirius…” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. The movement made him groan deep in his throat, the vibration rumbling through you like a distant storm.

You weren’t prepared for what happened next.

Behind you, you heard it—two soft, guttural sounds, almost in unison.

Remus.

James.

They were watching. And they weren’t being subtle about it.

The air thickened, charged with something electric, something shared.

Sirius growled into your skin, his grip on your waist tightening. Without lifting his mouth, he pulled you closer onto his lap, the edge of his teeth grazing you just enough to make your head fall back. Then he sucked harder, possessive, desperate—not in hunger, but in need. His hand squeezed firmer, like he had to ground himself in your body or risk unraveling entirely.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he murmured between kisses, nipping softly, “Don’t forget who got you like this first.”

His voice was rough, proud, but full of something deeper—vulnerability barely masked beneath the heat. As if the idea of your attention drifting to the others made something primal claw its way up from inside him.

You looked down at him, your fingers still tangled in his dark hair, his mouth still moving over your skin. His eyes were molten, searching, wanting.

“Still yours,” you whispered, letting your hips rock subtly in his lap, barely a motion but enough to drive him mad.

“Damn right,” he muttered, sealing your words with another deep kiss over your breast, his teeth lightly grazing before he softened, pressing a trail of open-mouthed kisses across your chest. “But they’ll want their turn too…”

Your breath caught at the promise in his tone—this unspoken understanding between the four of you. It wasn’t just lust. It was something more. Something sacred.

Remus moved behind you again, his hands brushing your back, steady and warm. James’s voice followed, quiet and low, thick with desire. “You’re the only thing that shuts us all up.”

Sirius gave a breathless laugh against your skin. “Not for long.���

The world narrowed to Sirius’s mouth on your chest—the way his tongue moved slow and deliberate, the way his lips latched to you like he was drinking in something vital. His hand cradled the weight of your breast as if it belonged to him, fingers pressing gently, possessively.

Your breath came shallow, warm, caught somewhere between a moan and a whimper as he suckled deeper, pulling soft, aching sounds from you with every drag of his lips. Every now and then, he’d groan softly against you, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

But then James moved.

He had been watching you the whole time, eyes dark, jaw tense with restraint. Now, he crossed the small space between you, one knee sliding onto the bed beside you, his hand curling around your jaw with a quiet sort of desperation.

You barely had time to react before he tilted your face to his and kissed you.

It wasn’t slow or soft—it was hungry. The moment your mouths met, he groaned into you like he’d been waiting hours, days, lifetimes. His lips crushed yours, his tongue parting your mouth in a hot, possessive sweep. You moaned, the sound muffled by him, and shifted instinctively on Sirius’s lap, overwhelmed by the sensation of being surrounded.

The reaction was instant.

Sirius growled deep in his throat, his grip on your waist tightening like a vice. His mouth pulled away from your nipple with a wet pop, breath hot against your skin. “Careful,” he warned, voice low and sharp against your ribs. “You know what that does to me.”

But your body was already moving on its own, hips grinding faintly in his lap just from the pressure, from the kiss, from the heat of all three of them circling you like wolves who had finally cornered their moon.

James pulled away from your lips, just enough to speak, his breath ragged. “She can’t help it,” he said, eyes flickering down your body. “You make her feel too good.”

You whimpered at the truth of it, your thighs trembling slightly, your fingers still twisted in Sirius’s hair.

“Still,” Sirius growled, his hand slipping around to your lower back, palm firm. “She needs to learn how to behave when she’s in my lap.”

There was something thrilling in the way he said it—dominant, but not cruel. Like he liked pushing you, testing your limits, watching you bend beneath his touch. His hand on your hip gave a firm squeeze, grounding you.

“I’m trying,” you whispered, voice breathless, eyes flicking between them. “I just…”

James brushed his thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to try so hard, love. Just feel it. We’ve got you.”

Remus, now behind you, leaned in then, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You don’t have to think at all,” he murmured, his voice like warm honey. “We’ll do that for you tonight.”

And that was the moment it shifted—when you let go. When your body stopped resisting the pull of their gravity. You were in orbit now—around them.

James kissed you again, slower this time but no less intense, his fingers curling beneath your jaw like you might disappear. Sirius resumed kissing down your chest, lower now, lips trailing fire across your skin. And Remus—he was still behind you, his arms winding around your waist, holding you steady, anchoring you in the storm.

“You’re ours,” Sirius murmured against your ribs. “And we’re going to take care of you.”

“You just have to stay still,” James added, smiling against your mouth. “Or try to.”

“Though we won’t punish you if you don’t,” Remus chuckled. “We quite like it when you squirm.”

You shivered in their arms, feeling adored, worshipped, owned—but in the gentlest, most reverent way. Every hand on your body was familiar, every kiss knew you better than your reflection, and every word spoken into your skin made you feel like you were something sacred.

And in that moon-drenched dormitory, with your heart in their hands and their hearts wrapped around your body, you realized: love could be rough and raw and unrelenting—and still be the softest place you’d ever land.

Sirius’s arms were strong around you, and the moment he shifted, your body moved like it belonged to him. He laid you down gently onto the soft, rumpled bedding, your back sinking into warmth and familiar scent—of firewood, of parchment, and the distinct scent that clung to all three of them like something you’d wear on your skin forever.

Your breath hitched.

Sirius followed you down, but not fully. His hands dragged slowly down your sides, savoring every inch, every curve, before his lips pressed a kiss just below your navel. The way he looked at you—like a man who was both reverent and insatiable—set something wild loose in your chest.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, voice ragged, “I’ve been dreaming of this all day.”

You barely had time to respond before James leaned in again, his hand cradling your jaw, mouth claiming yours. His kiss was softer now, more lingering. Still deep. Still possessive. But laced with something gentler, like he needed you to feel cherished even as he lost himself in you.

Then you felt Remus.

His hands ghosted up your body, palms warm and rough with callouses earned from nights gripping wands too tightly, and books too long into the dark. They found your breasts, his fingers curving around them with practiced care—like he’d memorized how you liked to be touched and etched it into muscle memory.

He squeezed gently at first. Then firmer.

Your back arched, hips rolling slightly, the moan trapped in your throat swallowed by James’s kiss.

Remus’s mouth brushed the curve of your shoulder. “You sound like music,” he whispered, voice reverent. “I could live in that sound.”

And then Sirius reached your hips.

He looked up from between your legs with that slow, sinful smile—the one that always meant trouble and devotion in equal measure. His fingers looped around the waistband of your panties and, slowly—agonizingly—he tugged them down your thighs, kissing each inch of skin as he exposed it.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly, dark eyes flicking up to yours. “Is that for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, barely able to breathe.

“Good,” he growled, before lowering his head.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow—like a tease, like a promise. He moved gently, exploring, savoring. Your hips twitched instinctively, and Sirius gripped them hard to still you.

“Stay still,” he warned, voice muffled against your skin. “Let me taste every bit of what’s mine.”

Your body arched, back lifting from the bed involuntarily as his tongue dragged through your folds again—more firmly this time, and then again, and again. Pressure building, tension twisting. You whimpered, head falling back into the pillows.

James kissed you deeper, trying to hold you grounded. His free hand found your cheek, thumb stroking just beneath your eye. “Breathe,” he whispered, breaking the kiss for only a second. “We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t focus—not with Remus’s fingers gently rolling your nipple, not with James’s lips brushing against yours, and certainly not with Sirius’s mouth working you open like he was trying to undo you.

Your thighs trembled, one of them lifted instinctively over Sirius’s shoulder, and he groaned at the motion—low, needy.

“Merlin,” he rasped, pulling away just for breath. “You taste like heaven.”

Your moan turned into a cry, your hand reaching down to tangle in his dark hair, and the moment you tugged, Sirius groaned louder, tongue pressing deeper, firmer, faster.

Remus whispered against your throat, kisses soft between words. “They love doing this to you… don’t they?”

You could only nod, lost in the overwhelming tide of sensation.

Sirius’s hands tightened on your hips as he brought you closer to the edge, his tongue moving in a rhythm you felt all the way down to your toes. James kissed the moans off your lips. Remus kissed away your shivers.

And in that moment—laid bare beneath their hands, their mouths, their love—you weren’t just theirs.

You were everything.

The room spun in rhythm with your breath—each exhale trembling, each inhale caught on the edge of a moan. You were pinned by their devotion, wrapped in the heat of three hearts beating only for you.

Sirius’s mouth had left your thighs kissed raw and trembling, his lips wet with your arousal. But his fingers… his fingers replaced where his tongue had been—two of them, long and rough, sliding deep into you without warning.

You gasped. No—moaned. Loudly. The kind of sound that made Sirius growl, the kind of sound that had James’s lips crashing down against yours again in a bruising, open-mouthed kiss, like he needed to swallow the noise to keep himself grounded.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius hissed, eyes locked on where his fingers disappeared into you. He curled them just right—just enough to drag a shiver from the very core of you, hitting a place inside that made your hips jerk. “Look at you…”

His voice was gravel and heat. “So wet for us. So tight around my fingers. You like this, don’t you? Being touched everywhere at once?”

You could barely nod.

Remus had you too—his lips closed around your breast, warm and commanding. His tongue flicked against your nipple while one hand gently kneaded the other, the touch reverent yet firm. His other hand was on your waist, keeping you still as Sirius set a merciless rhythm.

You whimpered into James’s kiss, hands flying up to clutch at his hair, trying to hold on to something as your body began to unravel. But it was too much. James’s kiss—possessive and dizzying. Remus’s mouth—sensitive and grounding. And Sirius—his fingers inside you, curling again, again, again…

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” Sirius groaned, voice thick with hunger. “She’s so close, I can feel it.”

“She should be,” Remus murmured against your breast, the vibration of his voice sinking into your skin. “She’s being worshipped.”

You felt the pressure build, a burning knot of sensation between your hips, tightening with every thrust of Sirius’s fingers. Every curl of them sent you higher. And the sight—Sirius, panting between your legs, his fingers working you apart; Remus at your chest, his lips and teeth sending sparks through your nerves; and James—kissing you like he’d die if he stopped—was too much.

You cried out, the sound raw, beautiful, helpless.

“Good girl,” James murmured against your lips, pride dripping from every syllable.

Sirius didn’t stop. He kept moving, kept thrusting those fingers in and out of you, slick and fast, his eyes never leaving your face. “You feel that?” he growled. “That’s what happens when all of us have our hands on you at once.”

Remus lifted his head just slightly, gaze dark and molten as he looked down at you. “You’re perfect like this,” he said, brushing his lips against your cheek. “Completely undone… completely ours.”

And you were.

You were trembling, clutching James like a lifeline, pressing into Remus for warmth, arching into Sirius’s rhythm like you belonged to him—because you did. To all of them.

Every gasp. Every sigh. Every shiver. You were theirs. And they were yours. All of them. And gods, they made you feel like everything.

Your body trembled with the anticipation left in the space Sirius created when he pulled his fingers out—wet, slick, and glistening from your arousal. You whimpered, hips arching instinctively, searching for more, chasing the edge he’d so mercilessly stolen.

He only smirked.

The kind of smirk that held danger and promise all at once.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice low and rough, threaded with control. “You’re not going to fall apart just yet.”

You whimpered again, this time from the ache—the emptiness. Your body was burning. Desperate. Sirius leaned over you, his breath brushing your cheek, and pressed a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth. It was softer than you expected, filled with something deeper—something that lingered just beneath his usual bravado.

Then his hand moved.

He undid the buttons of his trousers with ease, never breaking eye contact. His cock sprung free, thick and aching, and your breath caught at the sight of him. You bit your lip, thighs twitching, your hips subtly shifting toward him—inviting.

Sirius’s smirk deepened.

“Look at you,” he said, gaze flicking down your body. “So desperate for it. You want me to fill you up, yeah? Been so sweet, letting us touch you… kiss you…” He leaned in, brushing the head of his cock against your wetness, dragging a groan from both of you. “But now it’s my turn.”

Your breath hitched at the contact—just a brush, but enough to send a ripple of heat straight through you.

He gripped your hips, grounding you beneath him, and continued teasing, rubbing himself against your folds. Slow. Controlled. Like he wanted to memorize the feeling. You moaned, head falling back into the pillow, fingers digging into the sheets.

“Sirius,” you breathed, voice shaky, desperate.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Say it again,” he murmured, rubbing himself against you once more. “Say my name when you’re like this.”

“Sirius…”

It broke from you like a prayer, and that was all it took. With a guttural groan, he rolled his hips forward—slow, deep, claiming.

Your back arched as he filled you, inch by inch, the stretch intense, delicious, and exactly what you’d been craving. He didn’t rush. He moved with purpose—watching your every reaction, feeding on every whimper and shiver.

When he was fully inside you, he stilled—his breath heavy against your ear.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You feel… you always feel like home.”

You couldn’t speak. Your body was trying to adjust to the sheer presence of him, your heart thundering in your chest.

His pace was slow at first—deliberate. Each thrust a statement. His dominance wasn’t rushed—it was precise, and he made sure you felt every second of it. The slide of his hips. The warmth of his body pressing into yours. The grounding weight of his hands on your skin.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “Right now… every inch of you. Mine.”

You moaned, high and sweet, and wrapped your arms around him, needing to feel him even closer.

James and Remus watched silently, reverently. James was still close, brushing kisses against your temple, whispering how beautiful you looked. Remus had your hand in his, his thumb stroking your knuckles gently.

But right now—Sirius owned the moment.

His pace deepened, more powerful now, driving into you with rhythm and purpose. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails dragging lightly against his scalp. He groaned into your neck, kissed the soft skin there before biting gently, claiming more than just your body.

He needed you to know it.

“I’ll never get enough of this,” he breathed. “Of you.”

And as your moans filled the room and your body writhed beneath his, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind— You were his.

The shift in Sirius was sudden.

No warning—just a flash in his eyes and a tightening of his grip on your hips before he snapped his body forward with a brutal, devastating thrust. Your gasp echoed through the dormitory, your back arching like a bow beneath him as the air was stolen from your lungs.

The sweet, teasing rhythm from before was gone. In its place was something raw, something unrestrained—his hips slamming against yours in a brutal cadence, each thrust punching a breathy moan from your lips.

“Oh—Sirius—” you choked, fingers clutching the bedspread in white-knuckled desperation.

He growled low in his throat at the sound of your voice breaking like that, his eyes dark and wild as he looked down at you. He was utterly taken—by your moans, by the heat of your body wrapped around him, by the way your breasts bounced with every hard, merciless movement.

“Fuck,” he muttered, jaw clenched as he thrust even harder, deeper. “Look at you—completely undone for me. You feel this, yeah?” he grunted, his thumb dragging along the slick between your hips. “You were made for this. For me.”

You cried out when he adjusted his angle—just enough to hit that devastating spot inside you again and again with surgical precision. Your eyes fluttered, rolled back, your legs trembling on either side of him as he drove into you relentlessly.

He didn’t stop to give you time to recover.

And you didn’t want him to.

His dominance wasn’t cruel—it was devouring. And you craved every second of it.

You felt the heat building quickly, boiling in your stomach, spiraling with every deep stroke. Your lips parted, breathless whimpers tumbling from you as he pushed you higher, harder, until the world outside your body ceased to exist.

Sirius leaned in closer, his chest brushing against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“You feel how deep I am?” he whispered, his voice rough with strain and possessiveness. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you like this. You’re mine, sweetheart.”

You nodded—needed to nod—because words were lost to the overwhelming pressure building inside you.

“Say it,” he demanded, his thrusts somehow even rougher now. “Say you’re mine.”

“I—I’m yours,” you sobbed, your voice high and wrecked. “Sirius, I’m yours, I’m—oh god—”

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling your mouth to his in a desperate, consuming kiss, stealing your cry as he continued to drive into you.

Every movement—every sound—every groan that tore from his throat carved your name into his soul. His dominance wasn’t about control. It was about connection.

He needed you to feel it.

The slick sound of his body against yours filled the room, blending with your moans and the creak of the old bed beneath you. James and Remus sat nearby, still, silent, reverent—watching you with dark, heated gazes. But they didn’t interrupt.

This was Sirius’s moment.

And yours.

Your release should’ve been the end.

Your body trembled beneath him, your voice had shattered into broken moans and helpless whimpers. You were sure he’d slow down, let you breathe��maybe even pull you close and cradle you while your mind floated gently back down from the stars.

But Sirius Black had never been gentle when it came to needing you.

His grip tightened on your hips like a man starved, his pace unrelenting. He didn’t ease. He didn’t falter. He just kept going—rough, brutal, with a singular, feral focus.

You cried out, your body still too raw and sensitive, but you didn’t tell him to stop.

You didn’t want him to stop.

“Sirius—” you gasped, your voice cracking as your fingers tangled in the sheets. “It’s too—too much—”

He snarled softly above you, sweat dripping from his temple, strands of his dark hair clinging to his cheek. His eyes were locked on your face, dark and wild with hunger and something deeper—something close to obsession.

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “That sweet little face… ruined for me. Just like I wanted.”

Your thighs trembled again when he shifted your hips, driving deeper, rougher, making your spine arch and your breath leave in a broken gasp. You felt every inch of him—thick, hot, pulsing—dragging against places so deep inside you it made your eyes roll.

And still, he didn’t slow.

You barely recognized the sounds falling from your mouth anymore—soft whimpers, his name over and over again, high and sweet and wrecked. He groaned deep in his chest at the sound of it, jaw clenched as his pace faltered for only a second—just long enough for you to catch your breath before he slammed into you again, dragging a sharp cry from your throat.

“Say it,” he panted, his voice rough and strained. “Say my name like that again—let them hear who’s inside you.”

“Sirius—fuck—Sirius—” you moaned, your fingers clawing at his shoulders now, your body trembling beneath him as he drove into you like a man possessed.

He leaned down, lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your ear.

“You feel me twitching?” he whispered roughly. “I’m right there, love. So fucking close—and you’re gonna take it. All of it.”

You whimpered his name again, and his hips stuttered—his control cracking at the sound of you so completely gone beneath him.

“Just like that—fuck, yes, just like that.” His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, harder.

You could feel it—his cock thickening, twitching inside you—and your walls clenched around him without mercy. He groaned, low and guttural, his hand sliding from your hip to the back of your neck, grounding you, holding you in place.

Then, with a broken, breathless growl, he drove himself all the way in—deep, to the hilt—his body shuddering violently above yours as he came.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting harshly against your skin as you felt the warmth of him pulse deep inside you, over and over again.

Neither of you moved for a long moment. Just the sound of ragged breathing, your heart racing, the soft creak of the bed under both your trembling bodies.

Then finally, Sirius exhaled—a deep, shuddering breath, almost like a sob—and pressed a tender kiss to your neck.

“You drive me fucking mad,” he whispered against your skin. And still, despite the ache, despite how your limbs refused to move—you smiled.

Because this wasn’t just about dominance. This wasn’t just about lust. This was Sirius—desperate, wild, and completely in love with the way you came undone for him.

You barely had time to catch your breath.

Sirius pulled out with a low groan, and your body instinctively clenched at the sudden emptiness, a soft, desperate whine slipping from your lips before you could stop it. Your thighs trembled, overstimulated, aching—and yet the moment James moved, something in you stirred again.

He chuckled low, a sound thick with affection and hunger.

“Still needy, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice brushing against your ear like silk, his hand sliding slowly along the back of your thigh to part your legs wider. “You’re incredible, darling… absolutely wrecked, and still you want more.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. His praise made something flutter in your chest—and lower, where your body already ached for him again.

Then you felt it—his cock tapping gently against your slick folds.

You gasped, your hips twitching at the contact. He was slower than Sirius, less reckless… but the heat in his eyes? That fire? It burned just as fiercely. If Sirius was wild and consuming, James was the slow fire that smoldered from the inside out.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered, almost in awe, dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds again, teasing your sensitive skin. “Can’t tell if it’s you or Sirius dripping out of you. Maybe both.”

You whimpered, arching slightly into him.

“Please, James…”

That was all he needed.

With a slow, deliberate push of his hips, he sank into you—stretching you wide with that thick, perfect cock. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, hands flying to his arms, nails digging into his skin. It wasn’t just the size—it was the way he moved, the way he took his time claiming every inch inside you.

He groaned above you, head falling forward as he buried himself completely.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice strained. “So damn tight—so perfect.”

Your body shivered beneath him, the feeling of fullness almost too much—but somehow just right. He didn’t move, not yet—he just held himself there, letting you adjust, feeling the way you fluttered around him.

James cupped your cheek with one hand, brushing his thumb gently across your flushed skin, his other hand grounding itself beside your head as he slowly began to move.

Not rough. Not fast. Deep. Measured.

He watched every expression flicker across your face—the little gasps, the way your brows furrowed, the way your lips parted with every quiet moan. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and soft and possessive.

“You feel that?” he whispered. “Feel how full you are, sweetheart? That’s me. All of me.”

You nodded helplessly, hands clinging to his back as he began to pick up a gentle rhythm—each thrust purposeful, dragging friction that made you moan louder with every roll of his hips.

“I love watching you like this,” he confessed, his voice low and raw. “So beautiful when you fall apart. So good for us. You take everything we give, and still you want more.”

Your lips found his in a messy, breathless kiss—tongues sliding, teeth grazing, your bodies moving together with building desperation. The kiss muffled your moans as James pressed harder into you, the stretch of him constant, dizzying, perfect.

Behind him, you could hear Sirius groaning, could feel Remus’s warm hand rubbing your thigh—anchoring you, grounding you in all the intensity.

But right now, it was just James.

Just the fire of his mouth on your skin.

Just the way he whispered your name like a prayer each time he sank into you.

And the promise in his breathless voice as he panted, “You’re mine now. Mine to take care of. Mine to love. And I’m never letting you go.”

The air was thick with heat.

Your skin, still sensitive and glowing from Sirius, clung to James’s with every desperate press of your body. His rhythm, which had started so deliberate and tender, was beginning to shift—deeper, sharper.

Rougher.

Your fingers gripped his shoulders, your body arching instinctively into him when a sharp thrust sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure straight through your core. His breath hitched against your cheek, and he pulled back just enough to look at you.

And then—he saw it.

His eyes flickered down to your lower belly, and something primal darkened his gaze.

“Bloody hell,” James groaned, a sound torn between awe and hunger. “Look at that.”

You followed his line of sight and gasped—a visible bulge where his cock was buried deep inside you. Your cheeks flushed with heat, and your heart stuttered.

“I’m so deep in you, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick. “I can see myself. Fuck…”

Your body clenched around him at his words, and that was all it took.

Suddenly, James’s restraint snapped.

He slammed into you—one brutal thrust that made your entire body jolt, a loud, broken moan tumbling from your lips. You tried to speak his name, to say something—anything—but it dissolved into gasps as he set a punishing pace, each thrust deeper and harder than the last.

“James—!”

The sound of your voice, desperate and shaking, only drove him further. He growled low in his throat and leaned down, capturing one of your breasts in his hand, fingers squeezing tightly, possessively.

“You like this?” he hissed, eyes locked on your flushed face. “Like when I fuck you like I own you?”

Your back arched off the bed. Your hands clawed at his arms, at his back, trying to hold onto something as he pounded into you, the sound of skin on skin echoing around the dorm like thunder. The mattress creaked beneath your bodies, the world narrowing down to just the burning press of him inside you, the growl of your name on his lips, and the way his thumb swept roughly over your nipple before he dipped down and sucked it into his mouth.

You cried out, lost in the intensity.

James didn’t let up.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and ragged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, clinging to him. “I’m yours, James—please don’t stop.”

He kissed you hard, teeth clashing, tongue fierce. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he drove himself into you again and again, deeper than before—his cock dragging perfectly against every sensitive spot inside you, sending your mind spiraling.

His hand flattened against your lower belly again, pressing down.

“Feel me?” he groaned, panting against your mouth. “Right here. You’re so full of me. You were made for this—for me.”

Your body trembled violently, breath catching on another moan as he hit that spot, over and over, without mercy. James watched your face the entire time—watched the way your eyes fluttered, the way your mouth fell open in stunned pleasure, how undone you looked beneath him.

And still, his pace didn’t falter.

Because now, it wasn’t just about him, it was about claiming you and he wasn’t stopping until every part of you knew it.

James was unraveling—and yet, he held on.

Every thrust sent a shockwave through your spine, rough and deliberate, like he needed you to feel the way he was breaking for you. His hands were on your hips now, gripping tightly, grounding you as his cock slammed into that perfect, aching spot again and again.

You cried out, body jolting with each powerful movement. You could feel it—your release curling in your belly like a storm ready to break, the tension unbearable, delicious.

“James—” you whimpered, nails digging into his back.

His pace didn’t slow.

If anything, he grew rougher.

“That’s it,” he growled, voice gravel and fire. “I can feel you. So tight—fuck—you’re close, aren’t you?”

You could only nod, voice too broken with pleasure to form words. He was hitting that spot over and over, deep and merciless, drawing you closer to the edge with a precision that made your thighs tremble around him.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I want to feel you fall apart. Want to feel you clench around me when you lose it.”

The tension inside you coiled tighter.

Your walls fluttered around him, and James groaned—a deep, desperate sound that shook you to your core. He was so close. You could feel the way his cock twitched inside you, the way his muscles strained with the effort of holding back.

But he wouldn’t let himself go. Not yet.

“Not until you do,” he murmured. “I need to see you shatter for me first.”

The command in his voice broke you.

With a strangled moan, your body snapped—your release crashing through you like fire, muscles clenching around him so tight it stole the breath from his lungs. You gasped his name, over and over, as your body arched and shook beneath him.

James groaned loudly—his head dropping to your neck, kissing your skin feverishly as he held still, letting you ride it out.

“God, you’re so perfect when you come,” he whispered, voice thick with awe.

Your walls kept pulsing around him, milking him, begging him without words.

And then, finally—he let go.

His thrusts grew erratic, desperate, his breath shattered. He buried himself deep inside you with a final growl, his release hitting so hard his entire body trembled above you.

And he stayed there—pressed against you, panting, whispering your name like a prayer.

You were still trembling when James pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath still ragged. His fingers brushed down your side with reverence as he slowly slipped out of you. The sudden emptiness made you whine softly, your hips instinctively shifting toward him—toward any of them—for more.

James chuckled low in his throat, brushing your hair back tenderly.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice laced with warmth. “Remus is next.”

You didn’t have to wait long.

Remus was already there, kneeling between your thighs, his hands tender yet firm on your hips. His golden-brown eyes were darker than usual, heavy with hunger—but there was a softness there too, something reverent. He always looked at you like that, like you were precious. Like every part of you was meant to be worshipped.

One of his hands slid up your stomach, resting just below your breast, grounding you. The other held his cock steady as he guided it to your folds, dragging the head slowly through your slickness.

You moaned, your hips twitching at the tease. The sensation made your thighs tremble again, oversensitive yet aching for more.

Remus only smiled softly.

“I know, love,” he said in that low, calm voice that always seemed to wrap around your heart. “But let me have this moment with you. Just like this.”

He leaned forward and kissed you—slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that deepened with every second. His tongue brushed yours, soothing the heat burning through your nerves. His cock nudged at your entrance again, and this time, he began to push in.

Inch by inch.

The stretch made your back arch, a soft gasp spilling from your lips. He was thick like Sirius, long and unyielding, but where Sirius had taken, Remus gave. Each moment of pressure was met with a soothing kiss, his fingers threading through yours, grounding you, anchoring you.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your lips. “Take me… nice and slow.”

Your body pulsed around him, slick and sensitive, still trembling from James’s earlier possession. You squeezed his hand hard as he slid deeper, filling you in a way that felt almost too much—and yet, not enough.

“You feel… so good,” you moaned, your legs wrapping loosely around his waist as he finally bottomed out. Remus rested his forehead against yours, his breath catching.

“You’re everything,” he murmured. “Every time… every time it feels like the first. Like I’m coming home.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

He didn’t move right away—he stayed there, buried deep, letting you both feel the weight of it, the intensity, the intimacy of being so connected. His thumb brushed gentle circles on your hip. His lips pressed soft kisses along your jaw.

Then—slowly—he began to move.

His thrusts were deep and unhurried, building a rhythm that rocked your body in waves. Every slide of him inside you sent sparks dancing through your veins. He wasn’t trying to dominate. He was trying to feel. To make you feel.

And you did.

Your nails scratched lightly down his back. Your hips rolled to meet him, eyes fluttering closed as he kept whispering soft words into your ear.

“So beautiful… so sweet like this…”

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the slow intensity of it, the way his love burned hot and quiet like embers instead of flames. Not demanding, not consuming. Just there, warm and constant.

“Remus,” you whispered, voice cracking slightly. “Please…”

His lips curved in a gentle smile as he began to move faster—not rough, but purposeful, his cock hitting every sensitive spot with a practiced rhythm.

“I’ve got you,” he breathed, his voice catching with restraint. “Let me take care of you.”

Each thrust, each whisper, each kiss carried the weight of all the things he didn’t always say. The things he gave you like this—through touch, through love, through the way he filled you and cherished you in every breath. You could feel yourself beginning to unravel again… this time in quiet surrender.

The candlelight in the dorm flickered softly, shadows dancing across your skin as Remus’s pace slowly built—not brutal, not demanding, but deliberate. Each thrust was full, meaningful, and achingly slow at first, his hips rolling in the kind of rhythm that made your toes curl and your breath catch.

You moaned helplessly as he hit that perfect spot again and again, his cock sliding against it with every deep push. Your body arched instinctively, your thighs trembling where they wrapped around his waist.

“Right there, love?” he asked softly, voice strained with restraint.

You could only nod, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tightened on his shoulders, digging into the faint scars that lined his back like silvered whispers of the wolf inside him.

“Eyes on me,” he murmured gently, tilting your chin with his hand.

You opened your eyes—and the moment you did, he thrust hard, once, purposefully.

Your moan cracked in the air like a spell cast in raw pleasure, your body reacting instantly—hips bucking, breath stuttering, eyes rolling halfway back. The sudden deep, hard push after such controlled movement made your pulse spike.

He chuckled softly at your reaction, but it wasn’t mocking. It was reverent, full of awe.

“Merlin…” he groaned, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead. “You should see your face right now.”

You whimpered, caught between a moan and a sob of pleasure, your whole body flushed, burning under the intensity of his gaze. You could feel how he held himself back, how he was fighting every instinct that told him to let go—to take. But Remus… Remus was always the one who gave.

His hips kept moving, slow and deep again, but with a rhythm that sent little shocks of pleasure through you every time he bottomed out. And he kept talking—soft, low, intimate.

“You feel perfect,” he murmured against your throat. “So full of me… stretched so sweet around me…”

His lips grazed your collarbone, tongue flicking out to taste the sweat and skin there. You shuddered beneath him, another moan slipping free.

“Remus,” you whispered, the way you said his name trembling with need and affection.

“I know,” he said, his voice so full of emotion it almost broke you. “You don’t have to say anything. I know.”

Another hard thrust, deliberate and deep, made your body jerk with shock and bliss.

And he watched you—his warm golden-brown eyes drinking in every twitch, every flutter of your lashes, every desperate moan you gave him.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “when you’re completely mine.”

The tension built again, slow and steady like a tide. His thrusts stayed just on the edge—controlled, intimate, rhythmic. But every once in a while, he’d slam into that sweet spot with enough force to make your entire body jump, each time drawing out a strangled sound from your throat.

He groaned as your walls clenched tight around him, his own breath stuttering.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he asked softly, brushing his lips against your ear. “I can feel you tightening around me, begging for it…”

You whimpered, your voice caught somewhere between yes and please. Remus groaned again, the tension in his body clear now, his restraint starting to fray.

“Let go, love,” he whispered, kissing your temple with aching affection. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

Remus’s breath hitched the moment he felt it—your body clutching him tighter, squeezing around every inch of him like a velvet vice. It stole the air from his lungs, knocked the control clean from his spine. His slow, steady rhythm faltered for a beat—then snapped.

A groan rumbled low in his chest, more feral than human.

“Bloody—” he gasped, his fingers digging into your hips as his composure shattered.

Then everything changed.

His hips slammed into yours, the calm, careful cadence replaced by something raw and unrestrained. The sudden roughness made your body jolt, a loud moan bursting from your lips as his cock drove into that spot again and again, harder now, more urgent.

“Remus—!” you gasped, nails curling into his back.

He didn’t speak—couldn’t. He was too far gone, his mind clouded with the heat of you around him, the sounds you made, the way your body clung to his like it was made for him.

Every thrust was a command, a claiming, a desperate chase for the edge.

The bed creaked beneath you, your back arching with every hard push. He was deep—so deep—and relentless, groaning through gritted teeth as his control slipped further.

“You drive me mad,” he ground out, voice wrecked with lust and awe. “So—fucking—tight.”

Each word was punctuated with a brutal thrust, and you felt yourself unraveling all over again, your vision blurring as he slammed into you with all the force he’d been holding back.

Remus leaned down, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips.

“I’m close,” he growled. “So close—fuck—you feel so good…”

You moaned in response, barely able to form words, your hands tangled in his hair, trying to hold onto something—anything—as he pushed you closer to the edge again.

Then, with a final deep thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs, he stilled—buried to the hilt—his entire body trembling above you.

A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came hard, his release hitting him like a wave crashing through him. His muscles tensed, hips twitching as the pleasure raked through him with punishing intensity.

His eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, and he whispered your name like a prayer, like a surrender.

You held him, your body still fluttering around him, the connection between you crackling like lightning in the quiet aftermath.

Remus didn’t move for a long moment, just stayed there—inside you, above you, breath mingling with yours as he slowly came back to earth.

Then his lips brushed your cheek, soft now, reverent.

“Are you alright, love?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with tenderness.

You nodded weakly, a blissful smile tugging at your lips. He smiled back, the kind that held galaxies of affection, and kissed you again—slow, grounding.

“I didn’t mean to lose it like that,” he murmured.

But you just cupped his face and pulled him close, your heart still thudding against his chest.

“I wanted you to,�� you whispered.

Your breath came in shallow waves, your chest rising and falling in soft trembles as you lay across the rumpled bed. Every muscle in your body buzzed with exhaustion, the lingering echoes of pleasure still radiating through your limbs like molten honey. Your skin felt warm, kissed raw by their mouths, their hands, their bodies.

Remus slowly eased out of you, careful not to make you wince. His touch, always the gentlest when it mattered most, ran down the curve of your thigh in reverence. You whimpered softly at the emptiness he left behind, and it made him lean down, brushing your hair back from your damp forehead with a soft, “Shh, love… I’ve got you.”

A satisfied chuckle sounded from the edge of the bed.

“Completely ruined her,” Sirius murmured, half in pride, half in awe. “Look at her… absolutely wrecked. Our girl.”

You barely managed to roll onto your side, every movement a reminder of their dominance, of the power they each held and how willingly you’d surrendered it. Your vision blurred slightly until James leaned over you, his hand cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. His lips lingered, tender and grounding.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual, thick with emotion. “So bloody perfect for us.”

You gave a weak hum, a small smile tugging at your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. Then you felt gentle hands again—Sirius, ever the one who liked to touch, was already slipping your panties back up your thighs with a focused gaze that held none of his usual teasing.

“Can’t let you freeze, princess,” he whispered, pulling the soft fabric gently into place and adjusting them with care, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. “Though seeing you like this… damn. Burned into my brain now.”

James gave him a warning glance but said nothing. Instead, he lay down behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your hair with a sigh that was entirely content.

Remus climbed in next, the mattress dipping under his weight. He slipped beside you, hand settling lightly on your belly, palm warm and grounding.

And Sirius… Sirius crawled in last, not one to miss out, wedging himself against your back on James’s other side, his leg tossed lazily over yours, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest just beneath the hem of your panties.

You were surrounded. Warm. Claimed.

Loved.

“You’re glowing,” Remus whispered, brushing his lips along your bare shoulder.

“She should be,” Sirius added smugly. “We made sure of it.”

“She looks like stardust,” James said, voice low and reverent. “Like she’s been kissed by magic itself.”

Your heart squeezed at that. You couldn’t speak—didn’t want to break the quiet moment. You just buried your face in James’s chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. He held you tighter in response.

“You alright, love?” Remus asked, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your belly.

You nodded slowly, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ve never felt more safe… more wanted.”

A silence fell then, thick and golden.

Sirius tightened his arm around you. “You’re ours now,” he said, quieter than usual. “You’ve always been. Just took tonight to show you how deep it runs.”

Remus hummed in agreement. “There’s no going back, you know.”

“I don’t want to,” you whispered, emotion thick in your throat. “I’ve never wanted anything else.”

The three boys pressed closer. You were encased in them, tangled in heat and heartbeat, in whispered touches and shared breaths. It was overwhelming. It was everything.

No words were needed after that. Just the rise and fall of chests, the steady comfort of love tangled with something primal and all-consuming.

And in the arms of your Gryffindor boys, claimed and adored, you drifted into sleep with a soft smile still on your lips.

©2025 hisfavegirl. No part of this story may be copied, stored, transmitted, or shared in other apps.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ceoofglytchell @ashblooddragons @hayleythecannibal @laedeviour @venusbyline

[hollaforlyla]

when you randomly jump on their backs: various ninjago x gn!reader

I GOT MY HAIR DYED YAYYAYA ; i decided to put some of my old ninjago writing here tehe enjoy<3

art credit: min-play

warnings: uhm cringy? not new writing!!

↳ LLOYD

· freezes. he's not used to any physical touch, so when he felt your body jump onto his he froze. he literally had no idea what to do- 

· does he hold you back? he leans forward a little bit so it's easier for you to keep sturdy, but he still has no idea what to do. his cheeks went red slightly when your legs wrapped around his torso but brushed it off. 

· he chuckles nervously as he grabs your hands, gently rubbing them due to nervousness. he bit his bottom lip before he heard you giggle, motioning him to spin you!

· he got the message and started to spin like nobody's business. he eventually got comfortable because one he knew it was just you, and two your laughter and actions caused him to let his childish side out. 

· that's what he loves in you. you can help him take his mind off all of his 'green-ninja' duties and just be his childish self. he circles once more before your body dropped to the couch. 

· " what was that? " he laughs, looking down at you while you're in a giggle fit. hands on his hips like a mom, 

· " hmmmmhmh, " you giggle, " ihi was bored? " 

· Lloyd playfully rolls his eyes and leans down, giving your cheek a quick peck.

 ↳ JAY

· screams. you scare the living bolts out of him causing him to screech like a 11' year old school-girl and fall down. 

· your in a fit of laughter as you both reach the wooden flooring. 

· " Y/N!! " he called out, his breathing was heavy but started to slow down. you apologized to him, trying to slow down your laughter as he stayed on top of you.

· you honestly didn't mean to scare him, but seeing his reaction was worth it. suddenly he rolled off of you, taking your hand into his and bringing you up with him, twirling around as you did causing you giggle.

·  " ohokay! ohaahky! how about- we try thahat again? " he laughs, motioning you to jump on his back. with a smile you took a few steps back before running towards him and landed on his back, wrapping your arms around your neck and your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together. 

· he grabbed the thighs to make sure you won't fall and literally started to sprint around the Monastery like children on a sugar rush.

 

↳COLE

 · panics. he quickly grabs onto your thighs as he struggles to not topple over. it was like a jumpscare. one second he was talking to Lloyd, the next second he's having you on his back struggling to not face plant.

· " crap!- " he mummers to himself when he barely caught you and gripped his hands to your thigh. meanwhile, you're giggling like a hyena over here. you can't stop while Cole finally managed to sturdy himself.

·  Cole smirks when he hears your giggles and quickly started to spin around, careful to not smash into a wall. now you are in full-on laughter as you grip tighter onto the Earth Elemental. 

· Lloyd rolled his eyes playfully at the couple as he watches Cole spin out of the room with you on his back. " is there an actual reason you jumped on me? " Cole asked, looking over his shoulder. 

· " thihink of this as ... extra training? " you respond. He just rolled his eyes as he playfully throws you to the couch and gently tackled you and place a kiss on your nose. 

· this is now a normal thing with you two. whenever Cole has his guard down boom you're on his back wanting a piggyback ride.

↳ KAI

· like Jay he yelps. you jump scared him and he literally almost lit his entire body on fire. you included. thankfully he realized it was you due to your clothing and chuckles.

·  he was literally about to yeet you out the window, you are so lucky. 

· he eventually grabs onto your thighs and hoists you up to get both you and him comfortable. when his fingers purposely dug into your thigh you let out a laugh as you squirmed, causing the Fire Elemental to grin. 

· then...he started to spin. not like, his Spinjitzu spin, but just a normal spin. this caused you to giggle as you threw your head back as a reflex. 

· " ohohaky! okok! " " okay whaht? " he laughed still spinning.

· " puhut me dohown i'm gonna puhuke! " you suddenly felt your body fall and touch the fabric of the couch.

↳ ZANE

· visible confusion. he literally just stands there with you on his back, smiling like a dork.

· is something wrong? why did you jump on his back?

· you had to wrap your legs around his waist to hold yourself up as your arms locked around his neck gently. 

· " Y/N? is everything okay? " he would ask and all you would say is, " yeeup! just bored. "

· " so you proceeded to jump on my back because you were bored? " the Nindroid asks and you nod against his neck. this caused him to lower his guard and began to literally lecture you about the dangers of scaring somebody like that. 

· a little later he eventually got playful and started to sprint around the room, causing you to shriek with laughter until they were puddles of giggles. 

· you asked if he could Spinjitzu with you on his back and at first he was cautious, but he did one spin and that was enough to drop you to the couch.

· he apologized again and again, making sure you were okay. and of course, you were, you wanted to do it again.

· Zane refused because it can lead to something seriously dangerous.' pft, party pooper. '

↳ NYA

· literally throws you back on the bed, couch, carpet etc. she felt her soul leave her body when you jumped onto her and she threw you causing you to let out a small 'ommfpt' but that was soon replaced with laughter.

· " Y/N M/N L/N, why the heck did you do that! " she cries, holding her heart as you stood up.

· " ihih wanted to sehe your reaction. ahand it was wororth it ! " the Water Ninja gave you a 'mom' look before grinning, 

· " you think scaring the living hell outta' your girlfriend is funny? lemme give you something to really laugh about! "

·  " wahait- wait Ny-AHA! "

· after that day when you jump on her back, she literally keeps you there and goes on with her day. 

· making a bowl of cereal, Kai will walk in and see you on her back. watering the garden? Zane comes to help but see's you on Nya's back.

· when she puts you down she literally finds a comfy space and lets go of you, literally dies when she hears your shriek as your body falls from his back.

[freshxsturniolo]

i want you there - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

REQUEST : Hey! Could you maybe do something about y!n and Chris going on vacation in like a lodge or something in the woods or mountains and just having the best time ever! (Also with nick, matt and Nate)

i hope this is okay!!! i had so many requests for more chris fluff too so i made this sweet and mushy 🥹

when chris had asked you to come on his boys trip, you had thought he was joking. you were flattered and happy enough to have been ask to go to boston with him in the fall, now becoming a loved member of his family due to being his girlfriend, but you were more than aware how important his trips away with his brothers and best friend, nate, truly was.

"you're joking" you said as you sat on the couch the night before, glass of wine in hand. he shrugged.

"no. why would i be joking?" he asked, his hand on your knee as you sat with your feet up, blanket over your knees as you were reading your book whilst he packed his bag for the following few days.

you sit your book down on the ledge of the couch at the same time mary-lou walks in, and she gives you a smile as she sees you both, which you return before looking back at chris.

"because your boys trips are like, your favourite weekends ever, are they not?" you say again, and chris gives you another shrug.

"okay?" he says, genuine confusion to his face at your question.

"well, i don't exactly want to intrude. have you spoke to the boys about it?" you ask now, and chris rolls his eyes.

"you're literally nicks favourite person, i wouldn't even need to ask. but yes, i did. and they're all okay with it. i want you there."

it was the 'i want you there' that had done it. you were planning to just spend a few days in boston by yourself, grab coffee in a morning and read your book in the park, come home and help mary-lou around the house. you genuinely had not considered going with them for their weekend away. but the look on chris' face made you want to melt, and so you smiled deeply and agreed.

so now you let out a deep sigh, stretching out your back as you place your bag down on the floor of the shared bedroom of yours and chris' for the next few days in the log cabin they had booked. it smelled like wood and pumpkins and it was absolutely perfect. four poster bed, bedside lamps illuminating a soft glow around the room. you could hear chris and the rest of the boys laughing away in the background before the door swung open, and chris' beautiful smiling face met yours. he shut the door, flung his bag down on the floor, and before you knew it he was running over to you, picking you up by the waist and spinning you in a circle.

"chris!" you half screamed, half laughed, before he eventually dropped you back down, his hands snaking to your hips as he pulled you into him, pressing a deep kiss to your lips.

"hi baby" he smiles. and you chuckle as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"hi" you smile.

it had been a long car journey and with only one stop, you were aching from head to toe. you were dying to get out in the late autumn afternoon sunset that was setting outside the windows and stretch your legs. you weren't sure if thats something the boys would want to do, but you were happy to go alone.

"i missed you" he whined, and you laughed.

"we just had a 4 hour car journey side by side." you said, and he leant forward and nuzzled his nose with yours.

"its not the same as being alone with you." he whined again, and you let out a chuckle as your hands came up to the back of his hair.

"you bought me on a boys trip, baby. what did you expect?"

he chuckles now, giving you another kiss before breaking contact, your hands sliding down his shoulders before dropping down to your sides.

"what you wanna do? we usually grab pizza and watch a movie on the first night."

you smile as you make your way to the bathroom, flicking on the light and looking over yourself in the mirror.

"that sounds good. i might go for a walk, stretch my leg. if thats okay?" you say as chris follows you in, wrapping his arms around your waist and looking at you through the reflection in the mirror.

"of course. let me tell the boys and we'll all go."

"i can go alone, it's okay!"

he spins you around now, pressing you against the sink.

"alone? when its almost dark? in a place you've never been. not a fucking chance, babe. let me tell the boys."

he doesn't let you say another word before he's gone, his voice echoing through the log cabin as you hear him call out the his brothers and nate. you don’t hear much else as you let out a soft chuckle, before slowing following him out the room.

your eyes meet nicks immediately.

“i was just coming to get you!” he says.

“you good?” you ask. nick smiles.

“yes. do you wanna go for a walk now?”

you sigh. “you boys really don’t have to come, i just feel stiff.”

nick rolls his eyes, walking behind you and grabbing your shoulders, pushing you forward slightly until you enter the kitchen, eyes meeting with nate and matt who give you a smile.

“we can scout out the lake, ready for fishing tomorrow” nate says to everyone in the group, and nick claps his hands on your shoulder.

“and me and you can sit far away in peace” nick says, and you turn to give him a laugh. that small peace of anxiety leaving you at their words. you hated to feel like you were intruding but it was so clear these boys appreciated and loved you as much as you did them.

an hour later, the sun is setting in the most beautiful space you’d ever seen. the lake was beautiful and the sun bounced off the water, all whilst you stood back and watched as the 4 boys in front of you laughed and joked away. you’d walked with them all equally on the way here, but standing back now you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them all. when nate and matt picked up rocks to skip across the water, you knew you’d be staying her for a while, so you found a piece of grass to perch yourself down on, pulling your phone out to take a photo of the scene in front of you. the soft orange glow, the water, the 4 best friends. it was so peaceful. but after a minute or so chris turned around, and the minute his eyes lay on yours he walked straight over.

“you okay, baby?” he asked, reaching you and holding out his hand. you took it, allowing him to help you stand up before he pulled you into his side. you smiled, wrapping your arm around his back and your other arm around his waist.

“i’m good. so good. this is beautiful.” you say, looking out at the sky once again.

chris doesn’t say anything, and you appreciate the comfortable silence between you both before matt turns around, ushering you over.

“come on, y/n.” he says, moving his hand in motion to get you to join him. you look up at chris, and he gives you a smile before pushing you forward slightly to go join his brother.

you spend the next half an hour skipping rocks, all four boys making light joke with you about being rubbish whilst also helping you out, before you take the walk back. you find yourself sandwich between nate and matt, as chris and nick walk behind, and by the time you reach your cabin, your cheeks hurt from laughing.

later that evening, after takeout pizza, you find yourself falling asleep in chris arms in the small armchair designed only for one. you’re squished in by his side, his arms around you as you lay your head on his shoulder. tiredness over comes you like a soft blanket, and before the 4 boys have even decided on a movie, you’re asleep.

you just catch the moment chris brings his lips to your ear though, and whispers a soft i love you.

[formerelswhore]

— ONE DOVE ONE CROW

abby just loving the way how her thick fingers are stretching you out.. but there is ellie degrading the shit out of you.

praising. degrading. fingering. jealousy

Abby’s broad frame looms over you, her presence warm, her thick fingers buried deep inside you, curling with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath hitch, her other hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open on the bed, vulnerable and exposed.

Her lips brush your ear, voice low and honeyed. “God, look at you, taking my fingers so well” Abby murmurs, her tone dripping with praise. “So fucking perfect, stretching out for me like this, you’re doing so good, baby.” Your body trembles under her touch, thighs quaking as she presses deeper, her fingers thick and unrelenting, coaxing whimpers from your lips.

The stretch burns just right, and her words wrap around you like a lifeline, grounding you in the haze of pleasure. But then there’s ellie, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her sharp green eyes glinting with something cruel, she’s been watching the whole time, her lips curled into a smirk that promises nothing soft.

Her voice cuts through Abby’s warmth like a blade. “Pathetic” Ellie sneers, tilting her head as she looks you over “Look at you, whining like a desperate little slut, you’re practically begging for it, aren’t you? so fucking needy it’s embarrassing.” Your cheeks flush, a wave of shame crashing over you, but abby’s fingers don’t falter, she presses a kiss to your temple, her breath hot against your skin.

“Ignore her, sweetheart” she whispers, her voice a soothing contrast to ellie’s venom. “You’re so beautiful like this, opening up for me, i’m so proud of you.” The push and pull of their words makes your head spin, abby’s fingers curl again, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, and a broken moan spills from your lips.

She hums in approval, her thumb brushing your clit in slow, teasing circles. “That’s it, baby” she coos. “Let me take care of you. You’re so tight, so perfect.” Ellie scoffs, stepping closer, her boots heavy on the floor, she leans down, her face inches from yours, her breath ghosting over your flushed skin.

“You think you’re special just because she’s sweet-talking you?” she taunts, her voice dripping with disdain “You’re just a hole for her to fuck, nothing more, bet you’d let anyone stretch you out if they asked, wouldn’t you?” The words sting, twisting something sharp in your chest, but Abby’s hand tightens on your thigh, grounding you. “Don’t listen to her” she says firmly, her fingers pumping faster now, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the room.

“You’re mine, and you’re doing so fucking good, look at how you take me, how you let me in, so strong, so gorgeous.” Your body arches, caught between the warmth of abby’s praise and the cold edge of ellie’s degradation.

Tears prick your eyes, but the pleasure is overwhelming, building into something unstoppable, ellie’s smirk widens as she watches you unravel. “Go on, cry about it” she mocks “you’re such a mess, falling apart like a cheap toy, bet you love being used like this.” Abby growls softly, her focus unwavering as she leans over you, shielding you from ellie’s gaze. “You’re so close, aren’t you, baby?” she whispers, her voice a lifeline.

"Come for me. Show me how good you feel." The coil in your core snaps, and you come with a choked sob, your body shuddering as abby’s fingers work you through it, her praise a constant murmur in your ear, ellie’s laughter is sharp, but it’s distant now, drowned out by the warmth of Abby’s touch, her voice guiding you back.

As you catch your breath, Abby kisses your forehead, her fingers slipping out slowly, leaving you empty and sensitive “You did so good” she says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, ellie just rolls her eyes, already turning for the door. “Whatever” she mutters. “Have fun cleaning up her mess.” But Abby’s arms are around you now, pulling you close, and her warmth is all that matters.

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 8

Previous Chapter: Part 7 | Next Chapter: Part 9 Coming Soon!

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Smut

🚫🔞THIS IS AN ADULT BLOG CONTAINING EXPLICIT CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, A18+ ONLY.🔞🚫

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, spicy scenes.

Chapter 8: The Party Part 2 / Shoto’s Revenge

She shrugs and gives you a knowing half smile. “Sometimes people need a little push!” She starts to notice the room getting quieter as everyone waits for her to call out the next participant. “Speaking of which…you’re next!”

You look up in surprise as the crowd around you cheers and starts to chant your name encouragingly. Mina scoops up the bottle off the floor and holds it out to you expectantly.

“Come on, Y/N!”

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” Your friends chant around you.

You can practically feel Shoto’s gaze burning into your back as you stare down that problematic glass bottle.

Shit.

-----------

“Huh!?” Oh no. Oh helllll no. You weren’t planning on participating in this crazy game – especially not when Shoto is off the table. “No, Mina, I’m okay. Really.”

Mina pouts, but relents. Instead she turns to Hagakure. “How about you, Toru? Want to take a spin?”

“You know it, girl!” Toru cackles, shifting in her seat.

Mina turns back to the group and signals for attention. She’s going to make such a good hero one day – she can so easily control a room and grab the spotlight. If only she would stop pushing things too far all of the time…

“Allllright! Toru’s up next!” She passes the bottle over to your invisible best friend and scoots back to give her some space. Toru wiggles with excitement, her bracelets jingling on her invisible wrists as she leans forward and gives the bottle a hard spin.

The bottle ricochets across the floor, whirling round and round. You feel the excitement rolling off of Hagakure in waves as she waits to see where it will land. Within seconds, the bottle’s pace slows and it comes to an abrupt stop. You look up eagerly to see that it’s pointing at Mashirao Ojiro.

“Oh!”  Toru says softly.

For once, The Invisible Girl is absolutely speechless. You imagine she’s blushing as she takes in Ojiro’s equally shocked face. Across the circle, Ojiro’s jaw is slack in surprise. He quickly closes it and absentmindedly straightens his hair as the group is watches on and laughs.

You narrow your eyes and glance over at Mina, suspicious. How is everyone being miraculously paired up with their crushes!? She’s definitely rigged this game somehow, you just know it. She’s playing matchmaker somehow!

You refocus on Toru, who seems to be frozen in place.

“Get over there girl!” You and Mina push Toru up and she stumbles, nearly tripping over the glass bottle. Ojiro hops up to meet her in the middle and catches her arms before she can fall.

“Um…hey.” Ojiro says as he steadies her. Everyone looks on eagerly; this game is truly a spectacle to behold.

“Oh, Ojiro!” Toru says theatrically as she bounces on the balls of her feet. “This is so embarrassing! My face is bright red!”

Ojiro actually rolls his eyes at this, he’s used to Toru’s dramatics at this point.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” One thing you like about Ojiro – he’s steady and reliable. If anyone can balance out Toru’s constant chaotic energy, it’s The Tailman. “But…maybe you should take the lead here – I can’t see your face?” He says weakly, staring at her hard as he tries to discern where her mouth is.

Toru wastes no time, throwing her arms around Ojiro’s neck and pulling herself up she can crash their lips together. Ojiro’s face is bright red and his eyes are wide in shock as Toru all but climbs on top of him. You and Mina laugh so hard you feel like you can barely breathe. For a moment, all thoughts of Shoto have left your mind as you watch one of your best friends have her first kiss with her crush.

Ojiro’s eyes slide closed and he wraps his arms around Toru’s back and waist, holding her to him in a sweet embrace. They’re flush against each other, and he lifts her up a bit so that she’s standing on top of his shoes.

 It’s kind of weird to watch Ojiro make out with an invisible partner. You can see Toru’s body since she’s wearing clothes, of course. But her head is completely invisible, so you can see right through her. Quirks make intimacy hella weird sometimes. Through Toru’s nonexistent head, it looks like Ojiro’s lips are flattening and pursing of their own accord.

Finally, Toru breaks apart from him and reaches up to ruffle his hair. He smiles stupidly down at her invisible face. They break apart and she skitters back over to you and Mina to reclaim her seat. Ojiro stumbles back to his seat next to Kirishima, who claps him on the back kindly with a smile.

“Eeek! I had my first kiss!” Toru whispers urgently in your ear.

“I know! I was there!” You laugh.

At the break of action, the sound of babble swells in the room again as everyone gets back to chatting and laughing. The mood in the room is good; everyone is a tiny bit buzzed and feeling warm and fuzzy.

“What was it like!?” You ask eagerly, sitting forward to hear every word.

“Soft! Warm! Hot! Ojiro is a good kisser!” Toru squeals. You and Mina laugh happily as your friend wiggles with joy. “I hope that this night never ends!”

Mina checks her bedazzled phone. “Oh! The rest of the group is here!”

You and Toru look up towards the entrance and see that a small group of Class B students have entered the building. Mina, ever the master of ceremonies, waves them over and has them join the circle. Itsuka Kendo, Setsuna Tokage, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Juzo Honenuki and Yosetsu Awase find spots on the floor. Honenuki waves at you in greeting, and you return the gesture with a friendly smile.

“How did the distraction go!? Did Hatsume’s creepy little machines work?” Mina asks Kendo excitedly. The red head smiles back wickedly.

“We definitely fooled Mr. King into thinking that Mineta needed his help. He took the bait hook, line and sinker.” Honenuki cackles out.

“Wait…Neito – weren’t you supposed to be part of the distraction alongside Kendo?” You ask your friend. Neito looks a bit embarrassed when he answers.

“Well…I needed some extra time to get ready and Kendo said she could handle things with Setsuna, Tetsutetsu and the Class B gang. Plus I didn’t want Mr. King to think I was always running around tattling on my classmates. He told me recently that I need to work on being a bit more ‘social’ and ‘likeable.’ I just couldn’t bring myself to let him down again.” Neito says smoothly. This tracks – Neito has a ten step skincare regimen, after all. You can only imagine how much time he took to primp ahead of his big night with Shinsou.

“We thought it would seem more authentic if the class rep took the lead here.” Tetsutetsu chimes in, grinning widely. “And Mr. King totally bought our lie when we told him Mineta was getting bullied and strung up on the flagpole as a prank. We watched him run over to where Mineta was hanging and boom! He was instantly covered with drones. He didn’t even land a hit while we were watching.”

“Wow sounds like Hatsume really does know what she’s doing here.” Toru says in awe. Mr. King is an experienced hero, so Hatsume’s drones being able to go toe-to-toe with him is truly impressive.

“The trick wasn’t very manly of us, I’ll admit.” Tetsutetsu says, running his hand through his hair guiltily.”…but it sure was effective!”

“Yeah I really tried to make it seem like we’d been casually walking through the area when we noticed Mineta had been ‘attacked.’ Hopefully Mr. King won’t think we were connected with the drone nonsense.” Kendo says uncertainly.

“I’m sure it’s finnnneee!” Mina says, throwing her arms out wide. “Hatsume knows what she’s doing. And so does Mineta – he’s got skin in the game.” You glare at Mina when you remember that you had promised to kiss the little pervert in exchange for his help. As much as you hate the whole situation, you do truly believe that the kissing offer will keep Mineta on-task. He’s unlikely to betray you all where sexual favors are involved, after all.

“So what’s going on?” Tetsutetsu asks excitedly as Kirishima passes him a bowl of chips and a drink. “What did we miss?”

“Well you guys only missed a little – YaoMomo, come over here and give it a spin!” Mina calls out across the crowd. Momo has joined Shoto in conversation and looks up in surprise.

“No, no I’m alright!” She waves Mina off, blushing. She’s wearing a sensible lavender turtleneck and expensive looking blue jeans, flawless as per usual. “You all keep on playing without me.”

“Come onnnnn Momo!” Mina whines, scooping up the glass bottle and proffering it up to your creation-quirked friend.

“No, really! I must refuse.” Momo says, her eyebrows arched nervously as she tries to wave Mina away.

Momo and Mina continue to bicker (if you could call Momo’s polite declining bickering…okay Mina continues to bicker at Momo and she tries to turn the spotlight away from herself).

Your phone buzzes a few times in your pocket and you slip it out, hoping its Shoto.

It’s not.

Nope - it’s Honenuki.

Honenuki: Hey.

You glance up – the pale skeleton-faced young man is looking up at you with his wide grey eyes from across the circle. No one notices - everyone else is focused on Mina and Momo’s back and forth.

You type.

Y/N: Hey! You were part of the distraction team? I thought it would just be Kendo calling over Mr. Vlad King.

Honenuki: We all thought it would look more believable if we did it in a group. We told Mr. King we were walking back from the library when we heard yelling and found Mineta. Mr. King told us to head back to the dorms in case a villain had broken through the UA barrier.

Y/N: Oh shit. You think we’ll go into lockdown?

Honenuki: Nah. We told him it looked like a student prank, and he seemed to believe it.

Y/N: That’s gnarly. You could get in SOOO much trouble if he finds out this was all a fake set up.

Honenuki: Yeah. But isn’t it worth it for one night of being reckless teenagers? We’re all so good most of the time.

Honenuki: It can be a little fun to walk on the wild side.

A tiny lion emoji accompanies the text.

You smirk, glancing up at him to see his eyes crinkling at the corners to indicate that he’s smiling.

Honenuki: By the way

Y/N: ??

Honenuki: You look really cute tonight

Oh.

You feel a blush bloom in your cheeks, warm and rosy. You dart a quick look up at him and see that he’s still staring you down, eyes intense. You don’t know what to say…

After a moment’s pause, you start typing.

Y/N: A girl’s gotta look her best for an illegal party, ofc!

Honenuki: You always look cute though. Just thought you should know J

Um…okayyyyy!? Is he…flirting with you!? Honenuki liking you…like-liking you…that is not a possibility that you have considered?

You’ve been so caught up with your tryst with Shoto Todoroki that you haven’t really been paying attention to any other men. Your brain flies back through the text conversations you’ve had recently with Honenuki – sharing jokes, swapping music. Oh shit. He’s been flirting with you the entire time! And you’ve been…flirting back?

Your brain is reeling with the revelation. You stare down at your phone screen. You should type something. You should say something. You’re taken, aren’t you? Sure, you and Shoto haven’t put a label on…whatever it is that the two of you are! But you’ve agreed not to hook up with anyone else, right?

Your mind feels a bit hazy. The feeling of being wanted by two different men is a little intoxicating.

You think about Honenuki – his sweet messages and his chill demeanor. He’s kind – you know he’s always willing to help a classmate with training or math homework. You’ve heard nothing but good things about him in passing. He’s also strong – like Shoto, he’s one of the few students who gained admission to UA by recommendation and he’s currently at the top of Class B’s rankings. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that he has the potential to be a powerful hero.

You bite at your lip, staring at your phone screen blankly as you brain continues to cycle through Honenuki’s positive qualities. On top of his academic success…you have to admit that he’s kind of hot. Perfect skin and shaggy hair. You’ve seen the way he fights in battle; you imagine he’s well muscled under that floral shirt of his. You even like the haunting quality of his skeleton-like teeth. There’s something so genuine about him – he’s open and can put anyone at ease. He’s uncomplicated.

In a world where Shoto had never asked to kiss you, you can see yourself continuing to encourage Honenuki’s advances. If you hadn’t started hooking up with Shoto…would you and Honenuki have gotten together? You’re overwhelmed as you think back to all of Honenuki’s previous messages and the way he’s been treating you so tenderly lately. How could you not have realized earlier that he’s been giving off flirty vibes!?

The atmosphere of the spin the bottle game is far too horny and must be influencing you, because a vision comes to mind of being alone with Honenuki. Your mind scrabbles together a quick flash of white hot images – your hand running down his bare toned chest; his strong hands enveloping the curves of your waist; his grey eyes widening in surprise when you whisper his given name, “Juzo.”

Toru grabs your arm and shakes you from your wild, fuzzy thoughts.

“Y/N! Girl! Are you okay!? Why are you staring at your phone like that?” She tries to make a grab for the device, but you spin it out of her grasp before she can get a good look at the screen.

“Sorry…I was checking to see if Hatsume texted us.” You lie quickly. “I wonder how her distraction is going.”

“Oh!” Toru says in surprise, clearly having forgotten about Hatsume and Mineta’s role in the party planning. “I’m sure she would have sent us all a group text if there was a problem.” She turns back to her conversation with Fujita, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment.

You think a bit more about Honenuki and Shoto, two wildly different guys. While Honenuki has confidence and a unique charm, he lacks Shoto’s intensity and vibrancy. With Shoto, each conversation feels like unlocking a new video game level – you’re always learning something new about him. His upbringing, his passions, his sense of humor. Getting to know Shoto has been such a joy - he’s complex and sweet and kind in ways you never could have imagined.

As tempting as it is to innocently flirt back with Honenuki over text…you feel a strong sense of loyalty to Shoto. Sure, the two of you aren’t officially in “a relationship,” but the growing bond you share is intimate. You can’t imagine your day to day without Shoto – his tiny smiles in the hall, the way he sends you odd little texts about Pokémon and his love of cold soba.

And so you leave Honenuki’s text on read. You’ll need to sort through your feelings more later in the comfort of your own dorm room and decide how to approach the situation further.

Mina’s shrill voice brings you back to the present.

“Momooooo!” Mina whines out, throwing up her hands in exasperation. Your attention snaps back to your arguing friends. “Class B did so much work to help us throw this party. Joining in on some of the official festivities is the least we can do to show our appreciation. Plus weren’t you saying earlier how important it is to participate in cultural activities? This is prime teen culture right here!” Mina gestures wildly at the empty bottle lying in the middle of the circle. You’re honestly in awe of Mina and the way she can just make up convincing shit like this.

“Well…I suppose I did say that.” Momo bites her lip, thinking. “As deputy class rep I should participate in such an important show of friendliness between our two classes! And if Todoroki went through with it, I expect I can too.” It seems that this is what Mina was banking on. She grins like a Cheshire cat as Momo walks over to join them.

“Alright Momo, all you need to do is spin this!” She presents the bottle in all of its glory. It seems to sparkle with possibility under the florescent lights.

Momo accepts the bottle and flings it across the ground with an enthusiastic spin. It spirals across the floor, turning end over end before coming to a stop in front of Class B’s Yosetsu Awase. Awase’s eyebrows dip down and he mutters a curse under his breath.

He looks up at Momo, and based on his expression alone he looks either angry or terrified. Kendo laughs heartily and pats him on the back. “Go on, Awase. Go get your kiss.”

Momo watches him with fretful eyes. “Awase. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want - ” The welding hero raises a hand, signaling her to be quiet. Despite the gesture, he can’t bring himself to fully look her in the eye. The welding hero gets up slowly and crosses the circle to reach her, his cuffed blue jeans and dark Doc Martens make him look effortlessly cool. He reaches her in two strides.

Awase is taller than Momo by a few inches – his boots giving him the slightest boost. She looks up into his face nervously, her brain clearly whirring as she tries to devise a strategy to get out of this nerve-wracking situation. Maybe if she makes a break for the door everyone will magically forget this whole silly game and her role in it? Her eyes dart between Awase’s lips and the exit. He finally lets himself look at her, a dark scowl clouding his features.

“You know.” He says quietly, causing everyone in the circle to lean in a bit to catch his words. “I think you’re the smartest student in our year. Maybe even the smartest in the entire school.” He looks away, his skin red with embarrassment, sweat beading at his forehead. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a while.”

“Oh.” Momo covers her mouth and looks at the ground with embarrassment. “Thank you, that’s so kind.”

The room is so quiet, Present Mic would find the space absolutely offensive. All eyes are on Momo and Awase.

“You cool with this?” He asks, jerking his head to gesture at the crowd of classmates circled around them.

Momo blushes and looks away once more. “Well it is an important coming of age event, isn’t it? And I don’t want to stand in the way of building class unity, of course.”

This matter-of-fact response draws a slow smile out of Awase, his scowl melting into a light grin. “Oh, of course. Class unity is super important.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself, pressing his hands deep into his pockets as he leans into kiss her. Momo shuts her eyes as if she’s afraid, but as soon as their lips meet she leans into it eagerly. The smooch lasts for a few moments before Awase jumps backwards, face overheating. He looks up at the ceiling in embarrassment, hands still pressed into his pockets.

“Thanks Yaoyorozu!” He says too loudly and too enthusiastically. “I’m glad we could contribute to uniting our classes! See you around!!!” He turns and rapidly exits the room, disappearing into the hallway. Everyone turns to look at Momo, their eyes wide and interested to see what she’ll do next.

To everyone’s surprise, she bursts out laughing. Her mirth is infectious, and before long the entire room is giggling and guffawing, all tension of the room broken. Classes A and B are hanging out and having the time of their young lives together, it definitely feels as if new bonds have been formed.

After a few minutes, the laughter dies down. Kendo runs after Awase and returns a few minutes later with him clutched in her big fist. He looks abashed, but he’s laughing too.

Momo rejoins Todoroki and Tokoyami on the sidelines, and you watch the group of them warily for a moment. Momo is blushing like crazy, though, so you feel its safe to assume that her affections lie with the Class B Awase, not with your sweet Shoto Todoroki. Awase walks over to join their conversation, and after a few moments of chatting, its clear the tension between them has broken. Chatter breaks out amongst the rest of your classmates, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as Shoto smiles, happy to be included and making friends.

You try to shake your jealous insecurities from your body – after all, Shoto deserves all the friends. He deserves comfort and love from all areas of his life. You realize that you can’t be the only source of affection he receives – he’s a full person, not some romance novel character simply created for the protagonist’s need fulfillment and sexual fantasies.

You let yourself come back down to Earth, and out of your head. You listen in on the chatter surrounding you  -

“Kendo – do you think we can train together sometime? You have some really awesome moves with your quirk!” Ojiro asks the Class B rep, and Sero chimes in as well: “Yeah, I’d love to spar with you and see Big Fist in action!” Kendo smiles at the compliment and makes a promise to reserve gym time together in the coming weeks.

Nearby, Tetsutetsu and Kirishima are chatting animatedly about their favorite chivalrous heroes. “Have you seen this interview of Crimson Riot from the ‘90s!?” Kirishima taps his phone to hastily pull up an old video on the web. “This has got to be my favorite video of him in his classic costume.” Tetsutetsu and Honenuki crowd around his shoulder to watch, even Setsuna glances over with interest.

Across from you in the circle, Shinsou and Monoma sit talking softly to each other. Shinsou still has an arm around Nieto, the blonde leaning gratefully into his side and basking in the attention. He cracks a quiet joke that brings a smile to Shinsou’s lips, his eyes crinkling in response.

You take it all in – the joy, the laughter. You’ve got a glowy feeling bubbling up in your chest. This is why you all threw the party. This is certainly a night to be remembered. Everyone is happy and bubbly and bonding. You try to take a snapshot of the scene in your mind. It really doesn’t get any better than this, does it?

“Hey, Y/N – are you good?” Toru reaches over and shakes your shoulder, pulling you from your sappy reflection.

“Oh, yeah.” You say, refocusing on your friend next to you. “Just got lost in it all for a sec. I forgot how good a party could be.”

You feel Toru radiate happiness as well – you don’t need to be able to see her expression to know that she’s on Cloud 9. “I know what you mean. It’s really nice to hangout like normal teenagers, right?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Hmm. Normal. You’ve never really thought about it that way. Toru’s got a point – going to the top hero school in the country has certainly come with its sacrifices.

You’re truly not like normal Japanese teens – its rare that you get a night like this to just hang out and be silly. To flirt with classmates and get to know people outside of training and studying. You look around you – how many of these people do you truly know? If you weren’t all constantly cramming and training 24/7, what hobbies would your classmates have taken up? How would they choose to spend free time?

Training to be a hero is a just cause, a task worthy of sacrifice. But you’ve gotta wonder…throwing yourselves fully into this lifestyle so early in your lives at such a crucial time of social and emotional development…how good can that truly be in the long run? Will you all develop into well-rounded, emotionally adjusted humans? Or will you be at a disadvantage in regular society because you spent all of your youth on training and hero-work? It’s an interesting idea worth more exploration – you wonder what Shoto would think of it all. You make a mental note to ask him for his opinion later on.

“I wish we could do stuff like this more often.” Toru sighs, resting her invisible chin on an equally invisible palm. “It would be nice to get to know everyone as people, not as heroes-in-training.”

“It’s like you read my mind.” You laugh, throwing your arm around Toru and pulling her close. “I’m glad we threw this party. And I’m glad we’re friends.” You see your friend shimmer in the light next to you, her joy manifesting in her quirk’s light refraction.

“Me too, I’m glad we became BFFs!” She leans into you and whispers “Also I’m glad that Ojiro has such defined biceps…because honestly wow.”

You laugh at this, trying to see if you can get a good look at Ojiro’s arms from your seating position. Unfortunately, his arms are covered with thick sweater sleeves, so you’ll have to trust your friend on this.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You say under your breath as you check your watch before turning towards Mina. “Sato said the sweets should be ready about now.” Mina nods and looks off to the kitchen where a few of your classmates are bustling around baking goodies for the rest of the group.

“Alright, let’s do one more spin before we take a snack break!” Mina calls out over the crowd, her voice cutting through the bubble of conversations like a knife through butter. “We need more Class B representation…Honenuki, why don’t you come up?”

The crowd around you quiets and everyone’s eyes land on Juzo, waiting for him to step up to the plate and spin.

“Heh, alright.” Honenuki clicks his teeth and gets to his feet, chill as ever. He strides two long steps towards your group where he accepts the empty bottle from Mina’s protective grasp. He catches your eye and winks before turning back towards the center of the circle. Your stomach does a weird little jump in response to the gesture. Once again, you acknowledge to yourself that you enjoy the flirtatious attention. You imagine what it would be like to meet Shoto’s eyes across the room and for him to wink at you like that. Your secret love affair would no doubt boil the air between you.

You refocus on the game at hand – Honenuki stands at the center of the room. He’s wearing a floral button down with light wash jeans that hug his legs in a pleasing way. For the second time that night, you note that he’s definitely attractive, and his chill vibe seems to put everyone around him at ease. If all the attention is making him nervous, he doesn’t show it.

He places the bottle on the ground and gives it a slow, leisurely spin. The glass rotates slowly across the floor a few times, everyone eagerly looking on. After a moment of slow rotation, the bottle rolls to a stop and it’s pointing…straight at you. 

Honenuki turns to face you, his wide-eyed look of shock mirrors your own.

“Ooo, looks like you gotta kiss Y/N!” Mina squeals out, grabbing your arms and hauling you to your feet.

“Wha-?” You ask, clearly stunned as everyone’s eyes focus on you. You turn to look quickly from Mina to Juzo. The sudden shift of everyone’s attention to you is over-stimulating and your brain feels like it might short circuit.

“You’re up, Y/N!” Mina whispers as she pushes you towards Honenuki. “It’s all you!” You stumble forward and try to ignore the giggles around you. Class B has started up a chant of “Juzo! Juzo! Juzo!”

Honenuki’s pale cheeks darken under all the attention, but when you look up to meet his eyes again you notice that they crinkle in the corners. He can’t quite grin with his mouth, but with a pang of warmth you realize that he smiles with his eyes. He meets you in the middle, taking a small step towards you.

Every nerve in your body feels alive. You don’t like the way that everyone is staring at you and Honenuki, waiting for the two of you to act. A part of your overwhelmed brain wonders vaguely if Shoto is watching. Will he step in here? Will he say something to stop this from happening? Will he claim you as his own before the combined audience of Classes A and B!?

“You know, I was really hoping it would be you.” He says softly. You’re fairly certain you’re the only one who hears the sweet words underneath all of the chanting.

“Oh! Really?” You say breathlessly. Your classmates start to shush each other as they try to listen to your conversation. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Shoto staring at you, mouth agape as he watches Honenuki take a step closer to you.

Juzo’s wide eyes look down at you, his gaze warm. “I’m not the best person for this game. I’m not really built for kissing.” He laughs, pointing at his face. The florescent light glints across his bright teeth.

“That’s alright.” You say, unsure of what to do next. Juzo takes another step towards you until his face is just a breath away from your own. He smells like the clean dorm soap, as if he’s just had a shower.

“Despite the fact that I don’t have lips, I have always wanted to try. Do you mind?” His words are so gentle, so vulnerable. You look up into his large grey eyes and nod, giving him the go-ahead to move forward. You feel Shoto’s hot gaze burning into the back of your head, but there’s nothing to be done about that right now. You can’t reject Honenuki – not here, not in front of the entirety of the Hero Course. Not when he’s being so sweet and open.

You try not to feel guilty as you lean towards Honenuki. Besides, Shoto participated in the game too, hadn’t he!? He’s already kissed that strange girl from the General Studies Course, so what right does he have to be upset about this whole thing?

There’s another guilty thought nagging at you as well…you feel bad for how much you’re enjoying Honenuki’s intimate attention. It’s wrong, isn’t it? Are you leading him on now that you’ve realized he’s flirting with you? Should you put a stop to this and expose your situationship with Shoto to the entire room to show Todoroki that your heart and body are loyal to him alone? The thoughts and feelings are all much too complex to sort through quickly, so you decide to just go along with the game and let Honenuki kiss you. You can do damage control and figure out your feelings later.

Juzo reaches one hand down to rest on your side, his fingers spread gently against the curve of your hip. The delicate touch is almost intimate, and his closeness is making your head foggy. He brings his other hand up into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he leans down to bring his face to your cheek. You feel his smooth, cool teeth make brief contact with the side of your face. You can’t wrap your head around how he manages to make the “kiss” so tender, so sweet. After the brief contact, he pulls away to look at you.

“Was that okay?” He breathes, nervous for your answer. You respond by shifting so that you can give him a kiss of your own (it’s only fair). You bring your plush lips to his cheek in turn, planting a soft smooch on his pale face.

The joint classes cheer and clap as you pull away. Honenuki is blushing a sweet strawberry hue as you pull your face away from him. His eyes are sparkling with an emotion that you can’t quite place. He squeezes his fingers lightly on your hip before releasing you.

“Thank you.” He says to you kindly before turning to sit back with his classmates.

You feel a tingle of butterflies in you stomach from the gentle, focused attention Honenuki gave you. But at the same time…Honenuki’s sweet kiss doesn’t make you feel quite the way that Shoto’s kisses do. You turn and search for Shoto in the crowd. Your heart sinks down into your stomach when you can’t find him.

“Alright, everyone! Cake time!” Mina claps her hands and everyone gets to their feet, breaking the circle. The group starts to move towards the kitchen area where Sato has whipped up an amazing array of baked treats. The scent of baked chocolate wafts into the room enticingly, but you feel sick to your stomach as you search the crowd unsuccessfully for your icy-hot hookup.

You loiter behind, needing a moment to collect yourself after your very public romantic interaction with one of Class B’s top students. You watch as members of Class A and B joke and laugh together on their way towards the scent of Sato’s delicious sweets. You turn away from the commotion, hoping the redness in your cheeks has started to disappear.

You hear quiet footsteps come up behind you and for a moment, you fear that it’s Honenuki. You have so many mixed emotions you’re not sure what you’ll say to him.

“Y/N.” Shoto’s soft, steady voice breaks through over the chatter. You spin around in surprise and all but crash into his solid chest.

“Shoto, I - ” He cuts you off with a short hand gesture.

“Mind if we talk?” He asks quietly, glancing around to make sure you aren’t overheard. You nod weakly and follow him into the hallway outside the common area. “This is a bit more private.”

You lean against the wall and wrap your arms around yourself, shivering with discomfort. You’re not really sure what to do or say. What just happened between you and Honenuki, between Shoto and that girl…did that technically count as cheating? What you and Shoto had together…it wasn’t truly a relationship, was it?

Shoto turns to look at you, and you take in his face with shock. His features are screwed up as if he might cry – his eyebrows are dipped down and he’s biting his lip. You’ve never seen an expression like this on his typically unreadable face.

“Shoto – what’s wrong!?” You reach up to touch his beautiful face and he flinches as the contact. You keep your hand steady as it cups his cheek.

“What just happened…I think I’m having a complicated mix of emotions.” He says uncertainly, finally leaning into your touch. “I don’t know how to process it all.”

“Okay. Yeah, me too.” You say almost breathlessly, dropping your hand to your side. “Let’s talk it through.”

There’s a pause, neither of you know quite what to say. You stare at each other mutely. Shoto’s still chewing on his lip anxiously, a habit you’ve never noticed before. Finally, he takes a deep breath and decides to speak.

“You kissed Honenuki. And I didn’t like it.” He says simply. Your stomach drops.

“Okay…when you say you didn’t like it – what does that mean? Can you identify what you were feeling in that moment, and what you’re feeling now?” You prompt, needing more context. Shoto thinks on this for a moment.

“I felt jealous and a little angry. Maybe the feeling is…possessive? But I don’t know if it’s right for me to be feeling that way. I don’t own you, I don’t have sole possession of your time or the right to your body. We never discussed any sort of commitment to each other.” He pauses for a shaky breath. “And right now I feel…still a bit angry, but mostly sad and disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”

“Yes…I thought that maybe the way that we touched each other…I was hoping that kissing and touching would just be for the two of us. Then I saw the way he looked at you, how he touched you so gently. It looked like it came so naturally to him. And for me…well, I’m awkward. I know I can be…” He trails off, searching for the right words. He makes a strange, tight-lipped face when he finally says: “Emotionally stunted and inexperienced.” The phrase sounds unnatural on his tongue, and your eyes widen in surprise. It’s clear that he got this language from someone else – it just doesn’t sound like something Shoto would say. You roll the words over and over in your brain as he continues to speak.

He still can’t make eye contact with you as words tumble from his sweet mouth. “I just keep thinking…that if you would rather pursue Honenuki physically, romantically…then I need to step aside.”

“What!?”  You hiss out, completely dumbfounded by this dramatic confession. Shoto is spilling his guts here in the hallway and you have no idea what to say to any of it. Finally, his mismatched eyes meet your own – they’re filled with sadness. In this moment, he looks impossibly young and unsure.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, hoping to regulate your nervous system a bit before you dive in. You’re not sure how to work at this complicated knot of thoughts that Shoto has just word-vomited out into the hallway. You try to remember the basic de-escalation skills you’ve learned in class. Miss Midnight had once advised the class that in certain situations, the best approach to supporting someone is to reassure them and make them feel safe before getting to the heart of a problem. You decide to go that route.

“Shoto.” You say softly, trying to keep your voice even and warm. “Thank you for sharing these thoughts with me. I appreciate that you feel you can be open with me about these things. The first thing I want you to know here is that I care about you and I want us to talk through this the best we can.” At your words, you see Shoto visibly relax, his shoulders softening at your gentle tone of voice.

“I’m going to be honest, I’m figuring this out as I go. I don’t have all the answers and I’m not sure how to talk about some of these things with you – but let’s try our best to communicate together here. Alright?” Your brain is moving a million miles per hour, but you take another deep breath to calm it. You pretend you’re in an emergency situation and that Shoto is the victim of a natural disaster. You need to calm him. You need to listen to him. You want him to listen to you. It’s okay not to know everything; you just need to make sure he feels seen and heard. “Now I want you to take a deep breath with me.”

“Alright, Y/N.” Shoto says, matching your breathing to take a slow, rumbling breath. You deep breathe for thirty seconds, maintaining eye contact with Shoto. You put a hand over your heart and monitor your heart rate as you breathe, and watch as he mirrors you. You feel yourself getting calmer with each passing breath – and you hope that Shoto feels similarly.

You remind yourself that Shoto has an incredible amount of trauma from his childhood that you don’t know about. You’re guessing that he never learned to properly regulate his emotions the way that you had growing up. You were lucky enough to have parents who took the time to teach you how to process feelings and situations. You are quickly realizing that Shoto never had this as a kid – his father likely forced him to be malleable. As a result, Shoto tends to respond much more reactively to high stress situations. You may just be a teenager, but you have a few regulating tools that you can share with Shoto to help him cope. You make a mental note to suggest therapy to him some point in the near future.

“Shoto. I want you to know that I am a safe person to talk about feelings with. I’m going to try my best to be calm and even keeled if we need to work through difficult emotions. I know I kind of blew up at you when I thought you were romantically interested with Momo, but from now on I’ll put effort into giving you the benefit of the doubt and addressing things straight forwardly.” You pause to let him digest this. You try to filter all your thoughts into simple language. “I’m having a lot of feelings right now, too. I don’t want us to be afraid of talking to each other like this. I think we can really help each other process by talking things through. Are you up for that?”

Shoto continues to breathe deeply, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath his cute navy sweater. He nods. You wonder if stress makes him less verbal.

“To start, I do not think that you are “emotionally stunted.” We’re teen

agers, so of course we’re going to be inexperienced with things. We’re still figuring it all out! But there’s certainly nothing about you that’s “stunted.” For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been very in tune with emotions and are extremely kind and empathetic. I’ve never heard you use that turn of phrase before – did someone else say that about you?”

“Oh.” Shoto looks away, avoiding your confused gaze. You get the feeling that he regrets speaking the phrase ‘emotionally stunted’ aloud. “Natsuo said it when I visited home recently.”

You feel a pang of anger deep in your gut. Why can Shoto’s family be so callous?

“Why did he say it?” You force yourself to keep your tone even.

“Mm.” Shoto hums uneasily, searching for the right words to explain what had happened. “We were having dinner and he was arguing with my dad. He was blaming him for a bunch of things that had happened growing up. He said “the way you treated us as kids is the reason why I’m so angry all the time, Fuyumi is such a people pleaser and Shoto is emotionally stunted. You’ve ruined our lives.”

“Oh. Oh my goodness. Shoto.” There’s no way you could have anticipated this sad fucking trauma dump and you aren’t quite sure what to say. You try to remember if Miss Midnight had given you any other good advice on talking with trauma victims. You recall her telling you to ask gentle questions to better understand, if the person seemed like they wanted to talk. “How did that make you feel?”

Shoto looks very uncomfortable as he thinks through his next words. He shifts from foot to foot anxiously. “It made me feel stupid, Y/N. Like everyone else knows how to approach social situations except for me. Like I’m just a clueless idiot.”

“Shoto. Shoto, you’re not an idiot. Not at all.” You mumble, running a hand through your hair in frustration on Shoto’s behalf. “What Natsuo said isn’t right. And it’s definitely not true. I think that you just tend to be more private with your emotions. And that’s perfectly alright. Over the past few weeks you’ve been emotionally vulnerable with me plenty of times.”

Shoto chews on this for a moment, really letting your words roll around in that interesting brain of his. “You really think that, Y/N? You’re not just trying to make me feel better, are you?”

“Shoto. I promise you I will never lie to you. I respect you and value your friendship too much for that. I swear you are not emotionally stunted. It sounds like Natsuo is having his own issues and decided to unnecessarily shit on you and the rest of your family to upset your dad.”

“I didn’t think of it that way.” Shoto says, breathing out a deep sigh of tension. “He was really angry at dad that day.”

“It sounds like he’ll say just about anything to get under your dad’s skin. And he didn’t just pick on you – he talked some smack about your sister as well. Do you think Fuyumi is a ‘people pleaser?’”

“No. She’s kind and independent and she takes care of us all the best she can since mom went to the hospital. I have never thought of her as a people pleaser.” Shoto says almost instantly.

“So if Natsuo is wrong about Fuyumi, then he’s likely also wrong about you. Right?” You try to help him make the connection.

“You’re right.” Shoto huffs out another deep breath and rolls out his shoulders stiffly. “I’ll need to think more about this.”

You nod quietly in confirmation. You can’t even imagine how much family and childhood trauma Shoto has buried that he needs to process. From what Shoto has told you and implied with stories about his past, this comment from Natsuo is likely only the tip of the iceberg of Todoroki family drama. You decide to divert his attention away from family issues so he doesn��t get stuck in an anxiety loop about it.

“And here’s another thing I want you to get through your mind – I don’t want you to ‘step aside’ for Honenuki.” You take a step closer to him, crowding his space. In typical Shoto Todoroki fashion, he does not move to step back. He just stares down at you questioningly. “I want you. Romantically. Emotionally. Physically. I don’t want Juzo Honenuki the way that I want you.” You say, vehemently.

Shoto raises his hand as if he’s going to caress your cheek – his hand hovers mere centimeters away from your soft skin before he drops it back to his side limply. You mourn the loss of the almost-contact with a light ache in your chest.

“But what about the way he kissed you?” Shoto has this wrecked look on his face as he says this, it’s as if you are a complete mystery to him. “It looked like…it meant something.”

You think about this for a moment, trying to figure out the right words for Shoto.

“I think that I liked the kiss in a way – but probably not the way you think! I liked having the attention the kiss gave me. It was nice to have a public display of affection like that…and also the way that Honenuki focused so much energy on me in just a few seconds, it was definitely thrilling. But I suppose that’s the entire point of Spin The Bottle – it adds a layer of intensity onto everything. All in all, I think he’s nice. But it’s not quite the same as when I kiss you.”

At these words, you see Shoto visibly relax. His shoulders seem to become a little less tense.

“Plus, he’s not a member of the Squirtle Squad.” You add, smiling. Shoto snorts lightly through his nose at the joke.

He’s quiet for a beat before he asks you a question you aren’t expecting: “Is this how you felt when you thought that I was hooking up with Momo? That’s why you were so angry, wasn’t it?” Shoto says slowly, realization dawning on him. “I have been very confused about that, but I think now I understand.”

You exhale loudly, still embarrassed about the whole Momo debacle. “Yeah, admittedly I massively overreacted to that whole situation. I was just having so many feelings and I thought what has been happening between us is too good to be true. And so when I thought there was even the slightest chance that you were hooking up with Momo…well, I got jealous. And possessive. And that’s not fair to either of us. You were open with me from the start and I let my insecurities get in the way of the truth.” Now you’re spilling your guts right outside the biggest party of the century. You hope to God that no one walks by and overhears the two of you.

“Ah…so this feeling I’m having – it might be insecurity?” Shoto says thoughtfully. He bites his lip and you can see the wheels turning in his brain as he pieces it all together.

“It could be! It sounds like you’re having a big combination of emotions right now, and you might need some time to sort through it all. But that’s totally fine! You can take all the time you need to figure out your feelings.” You say warmly, and Shoto’s face finally relaxes into a soft smile. He appreciates the guidance, and the permission to just feel.

“Thank you, Y/N.” Shoto says gently. “You know…I’m always impressed at your ability to approach difficult situations with thoughtfulness and kindness. That’s why I like you so much. You’re going to be such a great hero.” You glow at the words. You feel your cheeks heating up as he stares at you with that intense eye contact of his. You notice for the first time that his grey eye has flecks of hazel around the iris.

You break the eye contact, looking at your shoes as you share your next thoughts. “Listen, Shoto…at the expense of being a bit mean to Honenuki…he wasn’t nearly as good a kisser as you.” You say, holding your hand out for Shoto to take. He gratefully accepts, slipping his fingers into yours and interlocking them. It feels good to finally touch him. All night, he’s been just out of reach. His fingers are warm and comforting as they press into your own. “He didn’t really ‘do; it for me, you know? Also, this is called waffling.” You can’t help but snort out, enjoying the confusion on Shoto’s face. You nod your head at your joined hands.

“…waffling?” He says weakly, looking at your interlaced fingers with wary interest.

“Yeah, because our fingers are crisscrossed together, kinda like how a waffle looks? Oh never mind.” You shake your head with a grin, making a mental note to show Shoto a picture of an American style waffle later on Google so you can explain more in depth.

“I feel like I learn something new from you every time we talk.” Shoto tilts his head to the side, doglike, as he considers your interlaced fingers. “I grew up with little to no exposure to pop culture, and so I feel like I’m missing a decent amount of context for modern romantic practices.”

“Shoto. My dude. What are ‘modern romantic practices?’ You can just say dating.” You say mockingly, but he knows you don’t mean it. He cracks a smile, and the butterflies in your stomach rejoice at the flash of bright Todoroki teeth. You squeeze his hand softly and then recall that you have feelings to work through as well. Since you’re both being so vulnerable and share-y, you’ve got plenty of questions to fire back at Shoto. “Hey – can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” He squeezes your hand back lightly.

“How did you feel kissing Fujita?”

An embarrassed sort of look crosses over his features – he subconsciously wrinkles his nose in discomfort.

“Is that the name of the girl from General Studies? Shinsou’s old classmate?”

“Yes. She’s very nice – I got to hang out with her before the party. Apparently she’s friendly with Mina.” You say, trying to speak kindly of a girl who very well could be your romantic rival in the quest for Shoto Todoroki’s dick.

“Oh. I didn’t even think to ask her name.” Shoto says in surprise. “That’s rude of me, isn’t it?”

“It all happened so quickly, I’m sure she wasn’t insulted by you forgetting to ask her name.” You try to sound casual, but you’re bouncing a bit on your feet. You’re nervous about what he might say about the kiss.

“Were you jealous, Y/N? The way you were jealous when you thought I was seeing Momo in a romantic context?” There’s a teasing smile pulling at the edge of his lips, but he has the decency to bite it back.

“Um, well, of course I was jealous when you kissed someone else! But I also know that it was just a game, and so I didn’t let it bother me so deeply.” You think back to the gentle way he had kissed the young woman’s cheek. “I was most envious of the fact that you were able to kiss her out in the open, in front of all our friends. Nothing was hidden. She was allowed to gush about it with the other girls, and it wasn’t a big secret. I wish…” You trail off, flapping your free arm in exasperation.

“Y/N. That kiss meant nothing to me.” The sentence tumbles from his lips before he can even think. He squeezes your hand harder this time and holds your gaze. “I was embarrassed that I was put on the spot like that. Everything happened so fast and I didn’t feel like I could say no. I wish I could have said no.”

“Oh.” You say, a sinking feeling in your chest. “Shoto, you should absolutely not have felt forced to participate. It was meant to be a fun game to bring everyone together and to be silly. I’m so, so sorry you essentially felt forced into it.”

“It felt like my brain wasn’t working quickly enough. Mina was just talking so fast, and everyone was looking at me. I was trying to keep a cool head but I was overwhelmed by all the eyes staring at me.”

You are going to need to have a talk with Mina about this, you have a feeling not everyone else was thrilled and comfortable with their role in the game. Shoto was likely not the only one feeling so distraught right now.

Shoto’s eyes roam the wall above your head as he thinks out loud. “How am I going to be a hero if I can’t make quick decisions under pressure?”

“Oh my goodness, Shoto! You can’t think like that!” You’re a little startled at how rattled he seems to be about this whole thing.

“Sometimes I don’t understand things as quickly as everyone else. I feel like I’m always a little behind socially.” He admits, eyes still dodging your own. “And at this point, I’m not sure if I’ll ever catch up. My Dad always says so, at least.”

“Shoto.” You reach out and grab his hand in an attempt to ground him. He’s clearly in an anxiety spiral downwards. “Shoto listen to me – everyone learns and grows at their own pace. Like I said earlier…we’re teenagers and we’re just figuring things out! It’s alright if you don’t understand every social situation right away. Being a hero is about having your heart in the right place and having quick reaction time in battle. You have both of those things in spades. As for the social awareness – well as a hero you’ll have a PR rep who can take care of all that. And as a hero-in-training, you have me.” You smile up at him. “You can always ask me for my perspective on a situation. And I can try to step in next time something gets too overwhelming – I can be your social buffer!”

His stormy expression seems to soften a bit and he finally meets your gaze. “You’d do that?”

“Of course!” You say resolutely. “And like I said – a hero is defined by their true heart and their willingness to jump into action to help people in trouble. Your heroism isn’t measured by your inability to resist peer pressure in high school.”

“Well when you say it like that…” Shoto shrugs, clearly feeling a little silly for his intense reaction to the spin the bottle debacle. “Maybe I’m overthinking this. I have a lot to process about tonight.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” You say, relieved that the two of you are figuring it out. But still…you need to be absolutely certain that you’re on the same page about everything.

“So you’re saying you didn’t have any feelings while kissing Fujita?” You ask slowly, trying not to seem too upset by the whole thing. After all, Shoto had admitted to feeling overwhelmed and not wanting to participate in the crazy game the first place.

“Oh. Well…she was kind of cute, I guess. But I didn’t really feel anything when I kissed her face.” He thinks for a moment. “It wasn’t like when we kissed for the first time. The first time our lips met, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like I needed more of you as quickly as possible or I would explode.” You feel your cheeks heat up a bit at these words.

He continues, “That’s really my only baseline for this sort of thing. So similar to you and Honenuki – it was a pleasant experience, but it didn’t really “do” it for me.” He smiles as he meets your eyes. He squeezes your hand yet again, a secret language you’re creating together. He’s trying to convey that he feels comfortable physically this way only with you.

“So it seems that we both feel similarly about the whole experience.” You say, giving his hand a squeeze back.

“That does appear to be the case.” Shoto agrees. “And it seems like we are both very attracted to each other.” He steps closer to you, getting into your personal space.

“Mmhmm.” You say distantly, looking up into his sparkling mismatched eyes as he leans down to capture your lips with his own. A spark ignites in your chest as your mouths connect and it feels so goddamn right. You drop Shoto’s hand so that you can wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. You need him so badly you wish you could pull him into you somehow, for your bodies to meld and become one being.

Voices down the hall cause you to jump apart. You stare at each other with wide eyes – this is bad. If anyone sees the two of you together, your cover will be absolutely blown. It’s one thing to be seen kissing during Spin the Bottle, it’s another thing to get caught canoodling together in secret. Mr. Aizawa’s whole “no relationships” policy reverberates in your head. If someone were to see you and Shoto and start a rumor about the two of you being together…well, it was only a matter of time before your teacher catches wind of it and puts a swift end to your sexual exploration of Shoto Todoroki.

“Quick. Hide.” Shoto hisses under his breath, as the voices grow nearer. You look at him blankly, a proverbial deer in the headlights. There’s nowhere to hide – you’re in a damn hallway!

Shoto rapidly looks left and then right, searching for a way out. The hall is much too long and neither of you lives on this floor – by the time you manage to get to the end of the hall to the staircase, you would already be caught together. Despite this, Shoto grabs your hand and pulls you down the hall in the direction of the stairs. He stops in front of a door and wrenches it open, roughly pushing you inside. You yelp in surprise as you trip over something and almost fall to the ground. Shoto scoops you up in his strong hero arms and closes the door behind you both with a soft thud.

You try to take in your surroundings, but the room is dim and crowded with shadowy objects. It takes you a moment to piece together where you are.

“Oh my God – this is the janitorial closet. I didn’t even think to hide here.” You breathe out, realizing that you had just tripped over a mop. Shoto nods and presses against you in the small space, his tense body imploring you to keep quiet.

The voices get louder, and you realize that its Kirishima and Mina discussing something heatedly.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Eijiro says roughly. “In front of everyone. Mina, that was really shitty of you.”

“Well excuse me – weren’t you saying just last week that you wanted to kiss me? You wrote me that little note and everything. ‘Oh Mina, I think about your lips every day.’ Or some poetic shit like that. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with it.” Your pink friend shoots back defensively, her tone scalding hot.

“Mina…Mina I’ve been wanting to kiss you so damn badly. But not like that. Not in front of all our friends and classmates.” Eijiro says in a deflated sort of tone, the fight seeping out of him. “That wasn’t how I pictured our first kiss going.”

“Oh, so you’re embarrassed by me? Well you can fuck all the way off then.” Mina says almost shrilly, completely missing the point Kirishima is trying to make.

“Really, Mina? You really mean that? You’re acting like you don’t know me at all.” Eijiro sounds heartbroken, yet angry. “Fine. Enjoy the rest of the lame party – I’m going to bed.”

“Eijiro – wait.” Mina says, her tone panicky. She clearly wasn’t expecting things to go this way.

“No. I need some time alone.” He says soundly, adding: “I need you to respect my personal space for once.” His tone is cold as ice. He stomps off down the hall to return to his room, clearly finished with the conversation. You can just picture Mina looking after him, crestfallen.

You hear let out a loud Mina groan of frustration. She lands a hard kick on the janitor closet door and you nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected bang! After a moment, you hear her footsteps headed back down the hall and towards the party.

Your heart sinks a bit. Mina has been mooning over Kirishima for a while now, and you know that this confrontation is likely to crush her boisterous spirit. However, you think that if Kirishima was uncomfortable with the kiss, he has the right to air his grievances. After all, hadn’t the teachers been trying to teach you all about the importance of consent in relationships? You chew on your lip, not sure how to feel about the situation. Mina had certainly pushed things a bit too far for certain classmates with her exuberant approach to Spin the Bottle. She is definitely going to need to learn to have a bit more empathy and situational awareness when it comes to handling crowds as a Pro Hero – not everyone appreciates being told what to do.

“I should go after her.” You whisper to Shoto, who’s still holding you securely to his chest.

 “This seems like a private matter between Kirishima and Aishido. She sounds angry and may want to be left alone. Plus…how would you explain how you overheard them arguing?” He has a good point there – you’re not sure how you would explain to your friend that you were ease dropping on her from inside of the janitor’s closet. “I think you need to give her a couple of minutes to sit with this.”

“And when did you become so great at reading social interactions?” You say, half teasingly. “Weren’t you just telling me you weren’t great at things like this?”

You can picture Shoto’s bright smile in the dark. “I just know that if I were in either of their shoes, I would need some time alone to process my thoughts and feelings. And I’m fairly unhappy on Kirishima’s behalf. It seems like everyone could use some time to cool off.”

“Ugh…you’re right, Shoto. I know you’re right.” You try to put yourself in Mina’s shoes as well. You bet she’s feeling pretty embarrassed right now and likely needs a hot minute.

“I think maybe I need to get better at sorting through my feelings.” Shoto says thoughtfully. “I appreciate the way you are able to guide me through processing how I feel, but I would like to get to a point where I can do that on my own. The better I become at managing my emotions and feelings, the less likely I’ll be to lash out at people the way my father does.”

In response, you reach up and caress his soft face. Now that you’re alone, he easily leans into the touch in a way that’s heartbreakingly sweet. He lets you run your hand through his bangs and into his hair, touching him so gently that he lets out a soft sigh of contentment at the contact. You almost forgot what a sucker he is for a light touch.

“You, Shoto Todoroki, are a good person.” You say as you continue to comb your fingers through his soft hair. “You are not your father. You are soft and sweet and strong.” He closes his eyes, focusing on your voice and your gentle touch in the dark. “You are good.”

His eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. He breathes slowly and deeply, you can tell he’s savoring this time with you. You try to commit this moment to memory – the smooth curve of his cheek, the steady beat of his breathing, the way his long lashes flutter as he opens his mismatched eyes to look at you.

“Thank you.” He breathes, turning his head so he can plant a soft kiss on the palm of your hand. “Thank you.” He says again more quietly, bringing his hand up to cover your own as he presses his lips to the pulse point of your wrist.

You stand like that for a bit, breathing together in the thick darkness of the janitor closet. With a thrill, you realize how trope-y it is to be alone with a hot guy in a closet during a big illegal party. You feel like you’re in a high school romcom or something. Based on what he says next, Shoto seems to be having the same train of thought.

“I like it when you remind me that I’m a good person, and that I’ll be a good hero. Your confidence – it gives me so much strength.” Shoto pauses and interlaces his hand with your own, bringing your waffling hands down to rest at your hip.

“You know…” Shoto says slyly, eyes wide and endless as he throws you a hot gaze. “I like being good. But being locked in this closet with you, while all of our friends are just a few feet away…well, I’d kind of like to be a little bad for a moment.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“What do you mean?” You ask, surprised at the sudden shift in his tone.

“Let me show you.” He says, his voice dropping lower as he drops your hand and moves to reposition you both.

He easily spins you around so that your back is now against his chest. He places his hands on your hips – and it’s not the gentle way Honenuki had held your hips earlier. No, Shoto is being rough on purpose. This is a side you’ve never seen of him before. And goddamn you love it. Your pussy comes to life at the motion. You make a mental note to invest in more panties – Shoto is really giving your underwear drawer a run for its money today.

Todoroki’s fingers hold you in a grip that’s almost bruising as he presses against you. He slowly kisses a trail up the back of your neck before sliding his hands up over your top. He reaches your breasts and begins to knead them lightly over the fabric of your shirt and bra. You groan at the unexpected sensual contact, feeling a spark flare in between your legs in response to Shoto’s touches.

“I’m still feeling a little jealous of the way Honenuki was able to kiss you in front of everyone. Would it be alright if I…explored those feelings?” Shoto finds your nipple through your bra and gives it a pert squeeze.

“W-what do you mean?” You practically purr out as he returns his lips to the curve of your neck.

“Let me show you how jealous you made me.” He whispers wetly into your ear, tracing soft circles around your clothed breasts with his fingertips. You feel yourself start to get wet from the simple motion.

“Dude we shouldn’t – there’s no lock on this door.” You try to resist temptation as he continues to plant kisses on your exposed skin. Maybe if you’re stealthy the two of you can sneak up the stairs and into one of your dorm rooms? You’ll need to be careful, though; especially with both Classes A and B all buzzed and hanging out in the dorm building.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ve got it covered.” Shoto says, and you can hear a smile in his voice. He releases a hand from one of your boobs and reaches out to grasp the door handle. In the low light coming in under the doorjamb, you watch as he freezes the doorknob shut, a sheet of ice running across the knob and part of the door. “No one can get in now. No accidental interruptions.”

Okay, you were totally not expecting that.

“Honenuki made you this jealous?” You ask as he wipes a few ice crystals onto his pant leg.

“Yeah. I’m feeling kind of…aggressive? Possessive?” Shoto tries to name the emotions pumping through his veins like fire. “I want to show you that I can give you things that Honenuki can’t.”

“I thought I already made it pretty clear that I like you more than Honenuki, Todoroki.” You tease; he puts his hands on your hips again and pulls you back into him. You can feel him starting to become hard against the smooth curve of your ass. He grinds into you slowly and you gasp at the contact.

“I know, and I’m grateful you’re reminding me. But I still feel an overwhelming need to show you – physically.” He draws you into his arms, his head dropping onto your shoulder. “Would you be up for something new?”

You don’t even need to think. “Yes.” You feel something electric and hot zipping through your veins – what could Shoto possibly have in mind? Despite his claimed feelings of “aggression,” he’s still being so sweet and gentle with his words. You muse that even though Shoto has a flame burning brightly inside of him, this Todoroki is nothing like his father.

“Would you be okay with me…using my teeth a bit? I’d really like to leave a hickey on your skin.” He nuzzles your neck with his nose, causing goose bumps to break out across your body at the touch.

“Y-yeah.” You stutter out, absolute putty in his hands. “Just nothing too big. Make sure it can be easily hidden under my clothing. You know Mr. Aizawa’s rules about hooking up.”

“Now why,” Shoto plants a kiss on your neck. “Would you” another kiss “mention Mr. Aizawa at a time like this?” He’s teasing. Had someone asked you a month ago if Shoto Todoroki was capable of teasing, you would have said absolutely not. But now this beautiful boy is kissing your neck and roasting the hell out of you. Jeez.

“Alright. I’m going to go very slowly, and I’ll do it on your shoulder just to be sure it doesn’t show.” He continues to kiss down your neck and towards your collarbone.

He brings his hand up to your collar so he can move the fabric of your top aside to expose more skin. “Can I take off your shirt? It might make things easier.” He gets back to kissing as he awaits your confirmation.

“Please!” Is all you manage to choke out as you feel his tongue run across your clavicle. He drops his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slowly pulls it upwards, the soft fabric flowing against your sensitive skin like a river. You raise your arms up above your head and he guides the top up and over your head, your hair becoming staticky as he goes.

“Much better.” He breathes as he carefully places the shirt on a nearby shelf of cleaning supplies.

You stand there in your bra and shiver as the cool air hits the bare skin of your stomach. “Oh no, you’re cold.” Shoto brings his hot hand down to rest on your belly and modulates his temperature with his quirk, slowly warming you up. Satisfied with your body temperature, he resumes kissing across your shoulder. He uses the colder of his hands to lightly pull your bra strap down your shoulder so he has better access to your smooth skin.

“Alright, you ready?” He asks calmly, tracing over your collarbone with his cold finger. You shiver, this time with anticipation.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Shoto ghosts the edge of his teeth across the length of your shoulder before choosing a spot close to your neck.

“Holy Fuck, Shoto.” You hiss out and you can feel him smile against your shoulder as he sinks his teeth lightly into your delicate skin and sucks, leaving a tiny mark. He kisses the area repeatedly before sucking on the skin more roughly, ensuring that a small bruise will form. After a few moments more, he runs his tongue soothingly along the hickey. At this point you’re dripping wet with both of your hands holding on to Shoto’s hot arm for dear life.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, almost smug as he traces an icy finger across his handy work. “What would you like me to do next?”

“Touch me, please.” You whine out, almost desperately. Shoto obliges, bringing both his hands back to your breasts to play with your nipples over your bra.

“Like this?” He asks softly, continuing to kiss and suck along your shoulder.

“I need more!” You throw your head back into his chest, and he runs the palm of his cold hand down your toned stomach. He pauses his hand just above the waistband of your skirt.

“You know…” Shoto breathes thickly as he continues to feel your tummy under his fingertips. “I’ve always been attracted to how muscular you are.” This takes you by surprise.

“Really?” You manage to whisper out, you try to ignore the way that your cunt is throbbing with need between your legs. “Sometimes I convince myself that you’d go for someone more petite and feminine.”

Shoto pauses, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the smooth expanse of your waist. With each movement of his fingers, you can practically imagine how it would feel to have him repeat the rhythm on your clit.

“Hm. No.” He seems to be deep in thought. “I’m attracted to the way you take care of yourself and train to be a good hero. Sometimes…” He pauses and licks his lips, sounding a bit embarrassed as he says this next part. “Sometimes I get turned on when I see you lifting in the gym. Or when I see you throw one of our classmates across the mat during sparring practice. Your strength is just so…sexy.” He says the last word low with want before he presses a hot kiss to your neck.

“Oh!” You know he’s not intentionally talking dirty to you - but the way he’s praising you and divulging his secret horniness for your strength is so damn hot. You can’t believe you ever wondered if he’d go for a more petite girl like Fujita. The way he’s praising your physique and workout routine is too genuine, too adoring. Too horny.

“You like watching me bench press?” You say cheekily, recalling a moment a few months ago when you had made awkward eye contact with Shoto at the gym. At the time, you’d thought it was just a coincidence – your eyes had accidentally met while you were completing some reps on the bench and he was doing pull ups nearby. But now that he had divulged his attraction to your lifting…

“Yes.” He buries his face in your neck, radiating heat. “The look in your eyes when you bench. Fuck.”

“How hard are you right now, Shoto?” You groan, rolling your ass against him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat in answer to your question. “Yeah that’s what I thought. Unzip your pants – I want to give you a handy.” You start to pull away from him so you can turn around, but he holds you fast in his arms.

“No.” He says soundly, surprising you. You’re certain that most men aren’t quick to turn down a hand job. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s something else I want to do right now. If you’re up for it.”

“Oh yeah?” This whole situation is unexpected – hooking up in a closet during a secret party? Yeah, definitely not on your UA bucket list. You tilt your head so you can look at him more clearly. His eyes are stormy, his hair mussed up just so. He looks so devastatingly hot and needy, you practically cum on the spot.

“I’ve been wondering…” He says quietly, running a finger back and forth on your lower stomach, causing your pussy to quiver in your panties. “What would it feel like to touch you…more intimately?”

“More intimately?” You squeak, and you feel his fingers slide under the elastic waistband of your skirt, tracing gently across the delicate skin of your waist. You feel your pulse quicken as you realize what he’s getting at. He kisses up your neck and you feel his breath in your ear – hot and wet. He traces his fingers across the waistband of your panties now, moving his fingertips in a slow, circular motion. You’re so wet you can barely stand it. It’s not a stretch for your brain and body to imagine how that motion would feel on your bare pussy.

“Ever since you gave me a hand job for the first time…well, I’ve been wanting to return the favor.” Shoto says softly, and your brain feels like its full of static. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? He wants to finger you and get you off?!

Of course, you’ve thought about this scenario before. You’ve gotten off to it about a dozen times – picturing the way that Shoto’s fingers would feel curled up inside of you and pulsing against your most intimate spot. But you’ve never been touched before like that, and to be perfectly honest you weren’t sure how to ask Shoto if he’d be up for it. In your mind, a dick is so much more straightforward. Just jerk at it and eventually you’re likely to get it right, right? Would it take Shoto a while to figure out the complexities of female anatomy? What if he thinks it’s gross how wet you get, or how gooey you feel inside?

You blush at the thought, but your body is so needy for him that you shove all of your insecurities away and lean more into his touch. Clearly he’s wanted to do this for some time. And everyone needs to start somewhere before mastery, so he might as well do it for the first time with you, right?

His fingers flutter just above the hem of your skort, uncertain. You shimmy your hips lightly, encouraging him to go further. He sucks in a breath and moves his fingertips smoothly under your waistband, feeling the gentle pull of the elastic. His movements are confident and precise – you wonder if his actions are partially fueled by his raucous jealousy of Honenuki, because after a moment of playing with your skort’s waistband, he slides his fingers beneath the thin fabric of your panties to explore your pussy.

You groan at the sudden contact – his strong fingers fan gently across your vulva, taking in the feel of it. Experimentally, he traces a single finger between your lips and dips it towards your core.

“You’re so…wet.” He barely breathes out into your ear as he swipes his finger around the lips of your pussy, feeling your slick spread across his fingers. He unintentionally hits your clit and you moan at how good his calloused finger feels against you. He mimics the motion, eliciting another sweet sigh from your lips.

“Oh…does that feel good?” He whispers as he rubs a slow circle around the spot, testing the waters. You nod breathlessly as you enjoy the way he’s playing with you. He caresses you like that for a big, letting you really get a feel for his fingers. You groan when he draws his hand away, wanting him to continue on.

He lifts his hand to his mouth and starts sucking on his pointer and index fingers.

“Shoto, what are you - ?” But you shut up as he slips the hand back beneath your skort, his saliva covered finger doing wet loop-di-loops around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. “Jesus – fuck! Shoto! Sho…” You start mumbling nonsense as he pleasures you, drawing a finger down to poke at your entrance.

“Can I…can I go inside?” Shoto whispers thickly, asking for your consent.

“Yes. Yeah. Please.” You’re practically begging. He wastes no time and slowly slips inside you. You’re so wet and turned on that you take his finger into you easily. As he softly pushes a finger into your needy cunt, you can’t help but moan at the light stretch. You’ve never felt so full before. Your pussy clenches around his finger and he gasps at the slight constriction. He starts to slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy, letting you enjoy the feel of the smooth penetration.

“I’d like to see Honenuki do this.” He whispers as he finger fucks you softly. You whimper in reply.

“I have something to admit.” You gasp out as he continues to finger you, slowly slipping his pointer finger in and out of your slick entrance and gauging your reaction.

“What?” He says absentmindedly, completely focused on the way your gummy walls squeeze his finger with each light thrust. You wonder if he’s imagining how his cock would feel pushing into your tight heat.

“You know how we used Mineta as a distraction to get Mr. Vlad King away from the party?” You say breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He kisses the side of your neck, wet and open-mouthed.

“Well I promised that in exchange for his help…I’d kiss him.”

Shoto pauses his movements, causing you to moan at the loss of friction. He then shifts his position, leaning so that his back is against the door. He places his free hand on your stomach, his other hand still between your legs. He pushes you forward so you’re almost bent double. He slides his fingers around your swollen clit before slipping back inside your entrance. He adds a second finger, stretching you our and pushing into your core insistently. He starts to thrust his fingers inside you at an almost brutal pace that causes the air to leave your lungs. Your ass bounces relentlessly against his clothed cock as he works at you.

“I’m going to need you to stop.” Thrust. “Kissing.” Thrust. “Other.” Thrust. “People.”

The authority seeping into his voice, paired with his two skillful fingers pushing inside you are too much to bear. If it weren’t for Shoto’s strong hand holding your stomach and anchoring you, your shaking legs would be giving out right now. Your pussy flexes and flutters around his hungry fingers, pushing you over the edge.

“S-Shoto. Shoto! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“Please, Y/N.” Shoto groans from somewhere near your shoulder, sounding desperate. “I want to feel you finish around my fingers.”

And that’s literally all it takes.

His needy words bring you to the brink and you try to stifle a moan of satisfaction as you cum on Shoto’s capable fingertips. It’s so delicious and oh so terribly dirty. Your legs continue to shake and your head falls back against Shoto’s steady body as you absolutely lose yourself to your pleasure. You don’t give a fuck if anyone hears you, you’re too far gone as you cry out “Shoto!” over and over, relishing the way his name sounds on your lips. It’s like an oath, a prayer as you ride out your orgasm in this tiny supply closet. You almost forget that mere feet away, the biggest party the UA dorms have ever seen is continuing to rage. You vaguely wonder what your classmates would think if they knew how slutty you are, drunk on the feel of Shoto’s hand in your panties.

Shoto gets a feel for your orgasm and tries to match the pace of your frantic hips – he’s a gentleman, after all. He wants to help you ride it out as long as possible. He lets out a moan of pleasure as you thrust and grind back into him with abandon. The swell of your ass bouncing back against his cock is too much, and you hear Shoto curse under his breath.

When you finally stop thrusting back into his fingers, he takes the hint and slowly slides his hand out from your pants. His fingers are absolutely soaked.

You watch in awe as he brings his hand to his lips without hesitation, sucking for a moment on fingers covered in your slick. “Wow.” She says quietly. “You taste…really good.”

“Jesus Christ Shoto.” You say, shaky legs nearly buckling under the weight of his hotness. He wraps his hand around your waist, holding you steady. He ghosts a kiss across the nape of your neck, your shoulder, wherever he can reach at this odd angle. You stand there in silence until your breathing slows – your back against his chest.

He smells amazing, intoxicating. You don’t think he’s wearing cologne – but he’s covered in this indescribably clean, expensive scent. Your cloudy brain guesses that it’s some kind of fancy shampoo that only old money has access to. You want to bathe in the scent, marinate in it. You try to commit it to your memory.

Shoto’s chest rises and falls in time with your own breathing. It’s gentle and it anchors you to the moment. It makes you long for bed – if only it was the end of the night already. If you could sink to the ground, you could probably fall asleep on the closet’s carpet. You want to tuck yourself into his soft sweater, surrounded by that delicious expensive shampoo scent. He holds you to him, giving no sign that he wants to let go.

When your soul finally finds its way back into your body, you shake your head to clear it a bit.

“Shoto…” You whisper, voice thick and sleepy. “Shoto, can I get you off now baby?”

Shoto smooths his hands over your hips appreciatively. “That’s alright…I, um. I’m fine.”

You blink awake, brain rapidly putting the pieces together. You think back to the way you were insistently rocking your ass against him, the way he had cursed under his breath earlier as he worked you up to your orgasm.

“Holy shit. Shoto did you just…? Oh my god. You came in your pants didn’t you?” You step forward and away from him, and his hands release you easily. You turn to look him up and down, eyes wide.

Shoto meets your eyes, cheeks red with shame. His pants are absolutely ruined – you can see the damp spot where his dick is pressed up against the fabric.

“Touching you like that…it was too much. And the way you were grinding on me. I couldn’t…” You can tell he’s ashamed from the way his voice wavers and dips. He doesn’t even attempt to cover himself, he just lets his arms hang at his sides uselessly.

“Shoto – no. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” You quickly try to reassure him. His eyes are bright with humiliation as he looks down at himself. “You just need to throw those pants into the wash and everything will be good as new.”

Shoto actually chuckles at this, the mood in the tiny closet shifting and instantly becoming lighter.

“Y/N…you’re just so sweet. I can’t even begin to explain to you the things you do to me.” He reaches out and drags you back into his arms. “I’ve never been so attracted to someone in my life.” He squeezes his arms lightly around you, holding you to him. Your hair is soft against his cheek as he snakes up hand to hold the nape of your neck. No one’s ever held you like this, so tenderly.

He exhales softly, his breath warm as it lightly tussles your hair. “We should get back to the party, shouldn’t we?”

“Can we just go clean up and go to bed?” You say, your voice drawling lazily. “We can sneak up to my room and snuggle up with my plushies. We can sleep in tomorrow.”

“That’s tempting.” Shoto presses a kiss to your temple. “But I think that the party crew is going to miss their leader. And I think that Mina could use a friend.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath in. “And Hatsume can’t hold off Mr. King forever. I should check in with her.”

“That crazy support course girl is involved in this?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“That genius crazy support course girl is involved in this.” You amend, laughing quietly. “Let’s get out of here, Shoto.”

He nods and scoots away from you so he can place his hot hand on the frozen doorknob. Steam fills the room as he melts down the ice around the door and you marvel at how much control he has over his quirk.

He cracks open the door to the hall and you both blink uncomfortably in the light that shines into the closet with a brightness that’s almost violent. Shoto pops his head into the hall and quickly comes back inside to huddle up next to you.

“It’s all clear, Y/N. I’m going to head up to my room and change. See you back at the party?”

You nod, suddenly all business. “See you back at the party, Shoto.”

You both dart out into the long empty hall, going your separate ways. You skitter up to your room to change your panties and tame your hair. Shoto veers off towards his dorm to change out of his own pants.

Neither of you notices the pair of sunglasses that lies abandoned on the closet floor.

End of Chapter 8

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Author's Notes:

Okay hey fam!

How we doin'!? I hope it was worth the wait for Chapter 8!

I'm dying to know how you all felt about these latest Spin the Bottle developments 👀 Quite a few of you predicted that The Reader would end up "kissing" Honenuki and I love that! Honestly I think that Juzo Honenuki would be SUPER hot in bed 🤷‍♀️ He's so sweet and tender and idk the skeleton face is cool AF. Honestly happy to be back in the "smut zone" with this chapter - I hope you enjoyed the spicy scene towards the end.

Not gonna lie, this chapter has been the hardest for me to write so far! There are a lot of emotions that are getting processed here - The Reader is trying to learn from her mistakes and give Shoto the benefit of the doubt after she assumed that Shoto and Momo were hooking up. But she's jealous that Shoto kissed someone else and she wants to talk about it! Shoto is processing the fact that he didn't want to participate in the game in the first place! It brings out a lot of his insecurities! PLUS he is jealous AF when he sees Honenuki smooch our dear Reader! On top of that...literally everyone is horny in this chapter. Writing the dialogue for the post-kiss discussion between Shoto and the Reader this was TOUGH!

Also I'm getting way too precious with this story and trying to make it something that satisfies everyone/avoids plot holes. I think I will need to be a little less strict with myself about the plot here to keep things fun and keep updates going regularly. This story is pushing me a lot as a writer and I'm excited about that! But TBH I'm also just here to have some smutty literary fun. This is my first long form fic so I'm gonna try to give myself some more grace as I write.

Anyway...that's all for now folks! I hope you have a lovely New Year! I can't wait to see all the good things that 2025 has in store for all of us! <3

XOXO,

Red Riot Unbreakable Heart ❤️

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❄️🔥THE ICYTHOTS🔥❄️

Want to join or be removed from the tag list - let me know! Once again, this is an ADULT ONLY blog. The IcyThot club is exclusively dedicated to the Shoto's First Kiss series and will only include A18+. Do not request to be added unless you are over 18. If your blog is ageless/your age isn't listed in the bio you cannot be an IcyThot member! I'm also adding the "sexual content" label/tags.

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[kitty384]

This Is What Home Feels Like

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: In the quiet moments of a morning at home, Bucky reflects on how far he's come—and how deeply he's fallen in love with the life he's built with you and your daughter.

Warnings: Fluff, domestic family life, softness, implied healing from trauma, dad!Bucky moments that will melt your heart

I never thought my life would feel like this.

Quiet.

Warm.

Safe.

I wake up to soft snoring beside me—Y/N, curled under the quilt, her hair a wild halo on the pillow. Our daughter is tucked between us, cheeks smushed, arms flopped above her head like she’s been in the middle of an epic toddler dream battle.

I blink against the sunlight sneaking through the curtains and smile.

I’ve been smiling more lately.

Not because everything is perfect.

But because this? This feels perfect.

I slip out of bed carefully, grabbing a hoodie from the chair and tugging it on as I head into the kitchen.

Coffee first.

Always coffee.

The dog’s nails tap against the hardwood as he follows me, tail wagging lazily.

“Morning, buddy,” I whisper, reaching down to ruffle his ears.

He yawns and flops onto the kitchen rug like he’s already had a hard day.

The coffee pot gurgles to life, and I lean against the counter, listening to the house breathe.

It’s quiet.

Not the scary kind of quiet I used to know. Not the quiet that came before pain or orders or something dark.

This is the kind of quiet that holds peace.

The kind where I can hear my daughter humming in her sleep. Where Y/N’s breathing is soft and even. Where the fridge hums, and the floor creaks under my steps, and everything feels lived in.

It feels like mine.

When I walk back into the bedroom, Y/N’s stirring.

She blinks at me sleepily, then stretches like a cat, arm flopping onto the pillow our daughter’s now rolled away from.

“She’s in your spot,” I whisper, holding out the coffee cup.

Y/N smiles, still half-asleep. “She’s in your hoodie.”

I glance down and see that our daughter has somehow pulled it halfway onto her tiny body like a nest.

My chest tugs.

She really is mine.

Y/N sips her coffee and leans into my side.

“Happy?” she asks, voice rough.

I look at the two of them.

The love of my life, wrapped in blankets and sleepy kisses.

The child I never thought I deserved, now tangled in my clothes and our laughter.

“More than I knew I could be.”

The rest of the morning is a beautiful blur of small things.

Pancakes that are slightly too burnt because our daughter insisted on flipping them herself (“I’m so strong like Daddy”).

Cartoons playing in the background while we all sit cross-legged on the living room rug, building the world’s most structurally unstable block tower.

Y/N sneaking a kiss while the kid isn’t looking.

Me spinning our daughter in circles while she shrieks with laughter and demands to go “again again again!”

And when she crashes on the couch mid-snack—apple slice in hand, blanket falling off her legs—I tuck her in and just… watch her breathe for a second.

Because I still can’t believe she’s real.

That they’re both real.

That I get to keep this.

Later, Y/N’s doing laundry and singing softly to herself while our daughter tries to “help” by folding clothes and mostly making a mess.

I stand in the doorway, arms crossed, just watching.

“You’re staring,” Y/N says with a smirk.

“Can’t help it.”

“You okay?”

I nod. “Just… taking it in.”

She walks over and rests her head on my chest. “You do that a lot lately.”

I slide my arms around her waist. “Feels like if I don’t soak up every second, I’ll miss something.”

She leans up and kisses my jaw. “You’re not missing anything. You’re right here.”

Our daughter yells, “Look I folded a shirt!” and holds up a balled-up pair of socks with pride.

Y/N and I both clap like she’s just invented electricity.

She beams.

And I think—this. This is what I fought for. What I clawed my way out for. What I never thought I’d get to live long enough to see.

And now that I have it, I’m never letting go.

That night, after books and baths and bubble-covered floors, we crawl into bed again—our girl fast asleep in her own room for once, the monitor resting on the nightstand.

Y/N curls into my side, tracing circles on my chest.

“Today was a good day,” she murmurs.

“They all are,” I whisper back.

“Even when she throws applesauce at your face?”

“Especially then.”

She snorts, then kisses my collarbone. “We made something really good, didn’t we?”

I nod.

And then I whisper something I’ve never said out loud before.

“This is what home feels like.”

Y/N pulls the blanket tighter around us. “Then let’s stay in it forever.”

And I swear to god—I will.

Masterlist

Request

[pointocean]

bunny!reader and rafe.

summary you go to rafe after a failed test to get what he’d offered to you weeks ago, just 20 minutes before you have to go back and retake it.

warnings mdni!! smut, p in v, unprotected sex, ‘bunny’ as a nickname, college!reader and rafe, quickie

authors note lıllılı NOW PLAYING “YALE” BY KEN CARSON

you press hard on the button, hearing the doorbell sound echo off through walls of rafe’s house. the door opens swiftly, your hands behind your back as you smile up at rafe.

2 weeks ago

“oh, fuck!” you’re a squirming mess under him, hair in a makeshift ponytail being tugged on by rafe. your hands and knees are planted to the bed, moans and grunts filling the room as rafe pounds into you.

“when you wanna fuck again, ring the bell,” rafe leans down to whisper in your ear, his voice low.

present

“fuck, didn’t think you’d show again,” rafe mutters, his head lolled to the side slightly as he looks down at you, a smug smirk on his face.

“well, here i am!” your tone is cheerful, but deep down, your aching to get inside of his house and let him ruin you until you feel better. “can i come in?” you rock on your heels, a sweet smile playing on your lips. rafe opens the door a little wider, and you stroll in slowly, your hands clasped together as they rest behind your back. you kick off your shoes, watching them fall to the floor near the door.

when you spin around to look at rafe, he takes that as an opportunity to pull you flush against him, his lips colliding with yours in the most chaotic way. it’s all teeth and tongue, your hands moving to hold on to his shoulders for support as you stumble a bit. he pulls you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as you kiss him frantically. his hands are everywhere, all over you as he digs his fingers into your hips, his feet padding against the floor as he carries you to his room.

he slams the door shut, kicking it closed as he spins around to push you against it, his lips moving in a trail down your neck. your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging on it as he pushes you harder against the door, his fingers scrambling to unbutton your jeans.

“fuck, i gotta be quick,” you pant, hopping off him to pull the clothes on your lower half down. you’re so focused on tugging your pants down that you don’t even notice rafes state until you look up again. you mutter a ‘fuck’ under your breath as you take his completely nude body in. your breath hitches when he turns you around to face the door.

“we’ll be quick, bunny,” rafe whispers, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance as he runs it through your folds, your back arched and your ass perked up.

“oh, for fucks sake,” you whine as he continues to tease you, knowing he’s trying to waste time. “i have to be back in 15 minutes, rafe.”

he sighs before pushing himself to the hilt, quickly and without warning, causing you to cry out. “so impatient. gonna get you in trouble one day.”

“go fuck yourself.”

“dont need to anymore,” rafe mumbles, setting his pace to a slow rhythm, just to piss you off a bit. “that’s why you,” he begins, placing his hands on your hips and thrusting his hips a little faster. “showed up at my door.”

your head falls to the door, little, broken moans slipping from your lips as his pace grows faster by the second. your arm reaches up to check the time on your watch, your body still hitting the door with every buck of his hips. “fuck! 7 minutes, rafe, come on,” you whine, turning your head to look back at him, eyes locking with his.

“you’ll be fine, bunny.” rafes attempt at trying to reassure you makes you feel more rushed, so you push your hips back farther, bending completely with your hands on the door for stability. you feel his hand snake down your back to your stomach, then down to rub your clit in rapid circles. you clench around him, your body shaking as you ride out your high, feeling him twitch before he spills inside you. “how much time left?”

you sigh as he halts his movements, checking your watch. “3 minutes,” you mutter, feeling him pull out before you stand up completely, speeding to the bathroom to clean yourself up quickly.

when you come back, rafe is holding your clothes, all folded neatly in his hand as he holds them out to you. you take them and pull them up your legs quickly, your fingers buttoning your jeans as he kisses your forehead, opening the door for you as you walk out of his room to the front door.

“maybe when i’m not in a rush, i’ll be at your door again,” you look at him before you smile and walk out the door, closing it behind you.

[whateveriwant]

Reverse harem TF141 getting you all to themselves

18+ content, GN!Reader, Reader is the ruler of an ancient kingdom, Part 1

Soap

You're just finishing up with your last hearing when a figure shuffling at the edge of your vision catches your attention

There, peeking behind one of the columns, looking not unlike a stray kitten begging for someone to take him in, is Soap

He's been in and out of the hall all day, inching closer and closer as he's seen the line of townsfolk dwindle by the hour

Now that all your advisors and subjects have finally gone, leaving the room empty save for you and him, Soap's made his presence more obvious

He shifts back and forth on his feet, waiting for you to take notice of him, and when you silently beckon him forward with two fingers, he swiftly glides across the floor and up the dais to your throne

Carefully, he perches on one of your armrests, keeping his head tilted down. Despite his eagerness, it's like he's too embarrassed to hold eye contact with you, so he looks elsewhere, focusing on a loose thread on his tunic which he begins to pick

Yes? Did he have something he needed to speak to you about? Your prompting has him timidly raising his gaze to yours, chin still tucked in deference

He takes a moment to think and then, without a word, he carefully mounts your lap, bringing his knees on either side of your thighs

Your hands come to rest on his hips as his attention then drifts back down again, thick fingers fiddling with the intricate beads of your necklace

No, he doesn't need anything (though the prodding you feel against your lower stomach would say otherwise). He just missed you is all; wanted to spend time with you

That little pout on his face makes you sigh quietly, thumbs circling the bones of his hips in a soothing manner. You've been so busy all day – all week, really. You know you've been neglecting him (as well as the other men), and thereby neglecting your own needs

Nodding in understanding, you raise a finger to Soap's chin, tipping his head upwards until he's meeting your eye. You smile warmly as your gazes lock, eyes briefly falling to his reddened lips

Well, now it's just you and him, you promise. And he has your undivided attention

Gaz

You're just about to disrobe for your evening bath when the door to your chamber flies open

You spin on your heel to find Gaz striding in, platter of fruits and cakes held high in presentation

He hopes he's not intruding, darling, but he noticed how little you'd eaten during dinner. He wants to ensure you're being looked after, so he's brought an array of your favorite treats for you to indulge in

Though it's obvious what you were in the midst of doing, Gaz is unbothered by the fact that he's definitely intruding

He's bold in the way he stares (not to mention how he'd initially entered without asking your permission), and yet, you must admit it, you find it titillating how he doesn't look away even as your robe drops to the floor

With a flick of your chin, you encourage him forward, having him sit on the ground as you descend into the warm water

You rest your arms on the side as you let him carefully hand-feed you sweets, smiling as you watch him pop a few into his own mouth

For a while, you chat together, inquiring about each other's day. When his trousers accidentally get splashed at some point (but was it really an accident?), he figures it only makes sense for him to join you in the bath since he's wet anyway

He can't hide his grin as he stands and strips for you, positively preening as your eyes instinctively hone in on a certain part of his body. Lowering himself into the water, he comes up behind you, shameless as he presses flat against your back

Gaz begins to gently wash your hair, and your eyes flutter shut, a pleasurable groan escaping you at the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp

As his touch gradually trails lower – down your neck, your shoulders, your spine – any vexation you might have felt towards him completely melts away

So what if he broke the rules by entering your chambers without permission? He's still new, still young, still has a lot to learn

And as his hands dip below the waterline, circling around to your front, you know you made the right decision letting him stay. After all, it'd be a shame to let such a nice bath go to waste

Price

You're scaling the last steps up to the observatory tower when you’re suddenly stopped dead in your tracks at seeing the figure that awaits you

It's Price (or, at least, you think it is) standing at the far end of the room. He's got his back turned towards you, his face angled up to the sky, letting the cool breeze flow past him as it drifts in through the wide archways

As you come closer to him, he doesn't move an inch, doesn't utter so much as a peep as your feet quietly pad against the floor

It's not until you join him by his spot on the balcony that he finally turns to acknowledge you, an affectionate smile rounding his cheeks, his eyes shining like jewels beneath the full moon’s glow

He doesn't appear to be even a little surprised to see you here. But then again, he shouldn't. He knows how much you love to watch the stars on clear nights like this

You're up late, you muse aloud. Normally, he's long been settled in bed by now in the men's quarters. That is, when he's not joining you in yours, of course

Price lets out a light chuckle at the observation. Yes, he knows you should both be asleep at this hour, but he couldn't help it. It's just such a beautiful night tonight. Wouldn't you agree?

Care to join him? He gestures to the pillows and throws lining the long bench before you

Does he even need to ask? The remark goes unsaid as you offer him a nod, lowering onto the plush seating alongside him

You sit together for a while, a comfortable silence passing between you as you both watch the sky. It could be hours, though it's more likely minutes, before you sense him turning to face you, eyes scanning your figure

Has he ever told you how enchanting you look under the moon, starlight? No? Well, he's a fool for not having mentioned it sooner

Steadily, he scoots closer until his knee is touching yours, hand reaching over to softly play with your fingers

Pray tell, have you ever made love under a full moon before? He traces your palm as waits for your response. No? Well… would you like to?

Ghost

You're in the stables brushing through the mane of your prized mare when a noise from behind startles you

You turn to look for the source and who should emerge from the shadows than none other than the palace ghost himself

His face is as emotionless as ever, his totally blank expression not betraying the thoughts in his head. And yet, as he draws near to you, shoulders held high and wide, there's a certain air about him that speaks to anything but apathy

Fancy seeing you here, Ghost's voice is taunting, almost sarcastic, as he saunters closer. He had no idea you were here as well. What a coincidence

The mirth tingeing his tone has you peeking over at him, arching a brow in question. But he doesn't notice (or if he does, he gives no indication) as he comes to a stop right beside you

He gives the mare you're tending to a few clunky pats on the rump, like it's not a common action for him to perform

What's he doing here, you ask. Well, he's just come to say hello to his favorite horse, Jupiter, of course. Why else?

Juniper, right. Yes, that's what he meant to say, obviously

Though he tries to play it off, you can almost feel the chagrin emanating from him, a tick forming in his jaw. But he doesn't let it deter him as he then asks whether you were you meaning to go for a ride, his eyes still focused on the animal which he continues to caress

You are? Where to? The cove at the edge of town? Oh, it's quite nice there. Peaceful. Solitary.

Ghost still doesn't meet your eye as he shifts his weight side to side, almost as if nervous. Would you mind if he tagged along with you? He could use some fresh air after being cooped up inside all day

The tentativeness with which he asks it has you smiling to yourself, biting the inside of your cheeks. And as you turn to face him fully, seeing him quick to mirror your movements, it only makes your smile grow that much wider

Of course he can join you, you concede jovially. Just give you a moment to fetch a second saddle

Oh, but there's no need, he assures you, stopping you with a hand on the wrist. He's smirking as you swivel back to face him. He prefers going bareback anyway

[fallenbratfiction]

rain and regret ~ loki x f! reader

This fic is part of the In sickness and in health series! Where a lot of different favorite characters take turns to take care of you. 🧻🌡️🩹

masterlist faq

A/N; He's so fucking dramatic AAAAAAAAAA he's acting like you got the damn plague or something awful of the sort.

minors dni. i am not responsible for what you consume.

do not copy, translate or claim any of my stories as your own.

The rain starts suddenly, tapping gently on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lounge. You glance up from your coffee. Thor notices the gleam in your eyes before Loki even lifts his head.

“No,” Loki says immediately.

“Yes,” you say, already standing.

Thor beams. “A storm! I shall join you!”

Loki groans, setting down his book. “You’re not children.”

You spin toward him at the door, dripping anticipation and glee. “Says you, the literal God of Mischief.”

Thor lets out a booming laugh. “She has you there, brother!”

Loki’s eye twitches.

“I wreak controlled mischief,” he mutters, folding his arms tighter. “Not puddle-soaked madness.”

You don’t even reply—you just sprint into the rooftop garden barefoot, arms open, hoodie bouncing, socks already soggy, Thor thundering after you.

The sleek stone paths are quickly covered in puddles, the air smells like ozone, and your laughter echoes through the Tower.

Thor crashes out behind you, shouting war cries as you chase him in circles through the wet grass and stone. You slip once—catch yourself and cackle like an absolute menace.

From the doors, Loki watches.

Arms crossed. Jaw tight. His silhouette sharp in the dim interior light.

“Absolutely unhinged,” he mutters. “Someone electrocuted her brain as a child.”

Eventually, soaked to the bone and breathless from laughter, you came stumbling back inside, trailing muddy footprints and giggling like you’d just outrun death.

Loki was waiting.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked forward, placed a towel on your head like a parent too tired to scold, and started patting your arms dry with another one.

“Happy?” he asked flatly.

“Ecstatic,” you beamed.

“Moron,” he replied gently.

Thor just let out a deep, satisfied sigh and said, “That was magnificent.”

“I swear to the Nine, if you fall ill—”

“I won’t,” you say, too fast.

He narrows his eyes. “You will.”

Later...

The room is dark and quiet. The rain still whispers against the windows.

You’re curled up in bed, shivering under layers of blankets, a tissue clutched in one hand and a cup of barely-sipped tea on the nightstand.

“I told you not to go out in the rain,” Loki says, arms folded, his voice sharp—defensive. But underneath it: worry.

“I was out there for five minutes,” you rasp.

You try to laugh. It comes out as a cough. Loki’s eyes flash with alarm.

Without another word, he kneels by the bed, his tone shifting from annoyed to concerned beyond comprehension.

“You mortals are so… fragile.” He brushes a strand of damp hair from your forehead, frowning. “Is this… normal? To look like you’ve been cursed by a frost giant and then claim you’re ‘fine’?”

You manage a weak smirk. “It’s just the flu, Your Highness.”

He glares at you, then stands and swishes his hand—suddenly the tea is steaming hot again, the pillows fluffier, the blanket heavier.

“Better,” he declares, smoothing the blanket over your chest. “You will rest. You will drink. You will not die of this absurd condition, or I swear I will enchant your immune system myself.”

“Is that a thing?”

“For you? I’ll make it a thing.”

Later, when you drift into a fitful sleep, Loki doesn’t leave.

He sits beside you, conjuring small spells of cooling mist for your forehead, whispering in Old Norse to soothe your dreams. When you stir, eyes hazy, he leans down and murmurs, barely audible:

“You must recover. I am not yet done loving you.”

The hallway is quiet.

Dimly lit by warm sconces and the faintest shimmer of magic, it feels like a dream as you step out, the blanket draped around your shoulders trailing behind you like a cape. You’re barefoot. Sniffling. Half-asleep. But your body noticed his absence, and that was enough to rouse you.

“Loki?” your voice is hoarse—barely above a whisper, soft like cracked porcelain. You sound like a Victorian ghost haunting the corridors of her lover’s estate.

You catch him off guard.

He’s seated on the floor, leaning against the wall, knees drawn up, a hand over his mouth. But not fast enough.

You see it. The shine in his eyes. The way he quickly wipes his cheeks with the heel of his palm, trying to make it look effortless. Like he wasn’t crying in the hallway over you.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asks, standing swiftly, voice low and tight. “You shouldn’t be up.”

You shuffle toward him, blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. “What are you doing crying in the hallway?”

He falters.

“I’m just…” he swallows, hands twitching at his sides. “Worried. That’s all, my love.”

You blink at him, voice raspy as you deadpan, “Dude. It’s the flu. I’m not dying.”

He exhales a breathy, incredulous laugh—but there’s no mockery in it. Just relief. Just you. Standing there like a sleepy little gremlin, dragging your blanket like a train.

“I know that,” he says softly. “But it’s never... just the flu when it’s you.”

You step into him. He immediately wraps his arms around your shoulders, blanket and all. You melt into his chest like he’s gravity.

“I’ve seen gods fall,” he murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head. “But nothing ever felt as terrifying as watching you burn up and not being able to stop it.”

You tilt your head up, brow bumping his chin.

“You big softie.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” he mumbles into your hair. “It’ll ruin my brand.”

You smile.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” you whisper, before pulling him back toward the room. “Now come on, I need you to warm my feet before I freeze to death.”

You shuffle back to bed wrapped in your blanket like a burrito, sniffling but victorious for having made it down the hall and emotionally checked on your God of Meltdowns.

Loki helps you ease under the covers without a word, conjures a mug of tea with a flick of his fingers, and gently places it in your hands.

“Small sips,” he murmurs, crouching at the edge of the bed like a healer at your feet.

You raise a brow at him over the rim of your cup. “What, no lecture this time?”

His eyes flick to yours. “I think you’ve suffered enough.”

He says it lightly, but there’s something heavy in his voice.

You just drink your tea—warm, minty, a little sweet. He vanishes beneath the blankets to press his fingers around your feet. With a quiet spell, heat radiates gently through them.

You hum in response.

He gives a quiet snort, and then he’s moving again—slipping into bed on the other side of you, pulling you back against his chest in one slow, protective motion. His arms curl around your middle, locking you in like you’re the last thing holding him together. You don’t resist.

His forehead presses into the curve of your shoulder.

You breathe. He breathes with you.

His magic flickers again—faint, warm, steady. A soft buzz at your sternum, like he’s trying to anchor himself to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You wake up in the middle of the night, groggy and flushed. You’re not burning up, but you’re hot enough to feel gross, and the congestion has hit full force.

You let out a few rough coughs—not violent, but deep enough that your chest aches a little.

Loki stirs immediately beside you. He sits up halfway, one hand braced on the bed, the other gently touching your back.

“You’re alright?” he murmurs, sleep-rough and tense.

You nod weakly, coughing into the crook of your arm. “Just… stuffy. Gross.”

He watches you like he’s trying to read your pulse with his eyes alone. Then he exhales, brushing your hair from your forehead.

“Please don’t do that again,” he whispers. “Don’t go out in the rain like that. Don’t—don’t scare me like this.”

You blink at him. “Loki, I’m okay. It’s just a cold.”

“I know,” he says. But he doesn’t sound convinced. “I know.”

And then he lies back down and pulls you to him anyway, like he still needs proof that you’re alive and warm and real.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed, like he’s trying to draw breath from you. As if your existence is what’s holding him together.

You fall asleep like that, wrapped in his arms, his magic pulsing faintly against your back.

I hope you enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it! If you need more comfort fics, check out the series linked at the top!

Would you like to join the taglist for this series? Comment below and you shall be magically added!

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[moosegirl96]

my spot (matt sturniolo)

sweet little blurb idk, first fic constructive criticism is appreciated okay thanks bye <3

summary: throughout the day, you join Matt wherever he sits and he always has his spot ready for you in his lap.

~~~~

you emerge from your room in the early afternoon, your eyes still blurry with sleep. you scan the room briefly before you spot your boyfriend, Matt, on the couch watching Gravity Falls with his brothers. You move towards him sluggishly and he greets you with a warm smile and open arms.

"g'morning, baby, how'd you sleep?" he asks, pulling you closer to him.

"mmhhh," you hum into his shoulder, your legs now wrapped around him like a koala bear, your face buried in the crook of his neck. he chuckled and smiled at how sweet and sleepy you were before gently leaning back into the couch holding you tight, then running his fingers through your hair, separating the knots that formed in your sleep. you snuggled closer to him, if that was even possible, and shut your eyes to drift back off.

--

you turn off the tv, bored out of your mind from just sitting at home all day. you decide to walk into yours and Matt's shared bedroom to find him streaming on Twitch with Nick and Chris, just talking. not wanting to interrupt, you tried to come in quietly, but he turned his head in your direction at the creak and click of the closing door. his face lit up and he turned his spinning chair to you, motioning you to come join them. "it's my pretty girl!" he smiled and shifted forward slightly in his chair, making room for you.

you slid across the hardwood floors with your socks and climbed into his lap, hugging his waist with your legs. "hi, baby," you gave him a quick peck on the lips. "hi chat, how's everyone's day?" you ask the viewers. Matt's hands naturally found your mid-lower back and started subconsciously rubbing gentle circles while continuing his conversation with his brothers and the chat, and incorporating you into it, too.

--

you huffed a little bit as you walked up the stairs after taking a brisk walk around the block on a nice cool, cloudy day in boston. Matt was sat at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on his computer, focusing on whatever work needed to be done today. he was wearing his white long sleeve shirt and his glasses, a very simple and normal look that just made you feel some type of way. you wipe your shoes on the mat and take them off before making your way over to his chair. he smiled as he watched you come closer to him. you pushed his chair back just enough to shimmy your way into his lap, putting one leg on either side of him and resting your head on his shoulder. you settled in and started playing with the little curls on the back of his head and neck to soothe him, in your own little world, not paying attention to anything else. he kept on working with a smile and planted a small kiss on your head before continuing his typing.

~~~~

a/n: okay that's it for today, I hope that was okay. let me know how I can improve future pieces, or if you liked this one, or if you have a suggestion on what to write next. thanks so much if you read all the way through this, and I hope you enjoyed it. love you, okay thanks bye <3