Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
A/N: Just pardon me, this is seriously the smuttiest thing I have ever written....
It was class 1-A’s third year at UA, and they had just returned to campus after a week-long training camp. Since the class had been so busy that whole week, they got the day they returned and the next off.
Endeavor had sent his assistant to pick him up from school with a note from his father full of long rambling about hollow gifts waiting for him at home; the note included a certain dig at you, Shoto's girlfriend, calling you a distraction and saying he was disappointed that Shoto had a girlfriend. You were standing behind Shoto, trying to read over his shoulder. “What's he saying?”
“Nothing. Do you have somewhere to be?” he asked, tucking the letter into the open car door.
“Not really. Do you want me to come home with you?” Without a response, Shoto pulled you into the backseat with him.
“Yes. My dad's not home, and my siblings are at school.” With that, you were being driven by Endeavor's assistant to your boyfriend's house as he held your hand in the backseat.
Shoto pulled you into his massive, rather traditional house, pulling you into his father's room. He wasn't usually so assertive, but his emotions were running high, and he was pissed. He kissed you fervently, pushing you abruptly onto his father's bed. He climbs between your legs and runs his fingers over your clothed cunt, kissing down your stomach. He hikes up your skirt licking between your thighs through your panties, your breath hitches, “shoto, what are we doing in here?” he doesn’t respond continuing to lap at your panties until the light pink turns clear with his spit, he pushes the soaked panties aside sliding in one long slender finger, holding your thighs apart as he licks all along your slit, his tongue circling your clit, his movements slow and calculated, as he adds another finger, causing you to moan. You cover your mouth with your hand, not knowing who all was home. He immediately pulls your hand off of your mouth as he sucks on your clit rather harshly as you moan beneath him. Todoroki had always been so respectful and patient with his father despite everything, but as of late he was fuming with his dad and for the first time in his life, wanted to be disrespectful, so one hand sunk town between his legs so he could palm and rub his cock as he licks and fingers your cunt, he groans into you, making your thighs jolt around his head.
“Shoto, I can help with that,” you comment half heartedly as you lace your hands in his hair, not making a move to help since he was just doing so good. He curls his fingers up in response to get you to moan again. He curls his fingers harshly against the spongy spot inside you as he sucks your clit. The sight of him humping his hand under you pushes you over the edge as you soak his face, tugging his hair. He laps at your pussy with a groan, causing himself to cum into the comforter. You pant above him, the reality of what you had just done crashing over you, and a sudden feeling to rush out of the room and never face Shoto's father ever again, but once you sit up, you see Shoto's pants are gone, and he's pumping his cock back to life. “Shoto? Are you ever gonna tell me what's up?”
He grunts, “Later.” he manhandles you into a new position, your face pressed into the mattress; you yelp.
“Shoto! I thought we were done!” he ignores you, pushing into your wet cunt, groaning into your neck as he buries his head into your neck, his chest pressed against your back as he thrusts into you, while you moan into the pillows. The sound of his long hard cock sliding in and out of your dripping wet hole fills the room, accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin, your slick dripping down your ass onto the bed, as Shoto leans down to suck and bite your nipple. You moan loudly.
“Shoto!” Your hands shoot to his hair as you get close once again. He feels it hitting your g-spot so hard that tears prick your eyes as your head hits the headboard, multiple pillows cushioning the bangs of the top of your head against the dark wood. Your back arches as you moan cumming for the second time around Shoto's cock, your walls contracting around him. He bites your shoulder, pulling out just to further ruin his father's comforter as he cums. Shoto sits back on his heels, watching your legs lower.
There's a pause before he speaks. “I'm mad at my dad, and he doesn't like that I'm dating you; he says you're a distraction,” he says, face frozen in his usual stoic expression with a hint of almost a pout.
“I'm sorry, sho.” You hug him, his face now pressed into your chest. “One more time?” Before he can answer, you lean down to kiss, suck, and pump his soft cock, rubbing it against your cheek, before you lick up from the bottom of his balls to his tip before you begin bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Shoto's hands tangle in your hair as he groans softly.
“Mm, okay,” he responds, his eyes shutting. You hollow out your cheeks around him, your tongue circling his tip; he ruts up into your mouth needily. You pull off him with a pop, making him groan at the loss.
“What's wrong?” he asks, concerned he hurt you.
“Nothing.” You turn lay back down in front of him, legs spread.
“We said one more time…” Shoto's eyes widen as he aligns himself with you once again, pushing in. Both of you moan as he starts moving again, kissing between your breasts. Shoto pounded into you, his hands resting on either side of your head, as you moaned and whined. reaching a hand down between your thighs to rub your clit, shoto moved his grip pressing your thighs up to your chest your knees by your ears, he pressed his whole weight down ontop of you so he could kiss you while his hips slap against yours, he reaches his hand up to grip the headboard causinng it to shift and bend under his grip as he fucks into you hard, his other hand wresting by your head. “Shoto!” you moan, causing him to groan as he thrusts into you, his grip on the headboard causing a crack to form across it. “Shoto?” you reach up to put a hand on his chest, immediately concerned with the now broken headboard. Still, he just kisses you to shut you up, using his hand that didn’t just snap his father's headboard to replace your fingers with his as he rubs your clit his thrusts angling up, causing you to scratch down his back as you cum around him with a scream, triggering Shoto's own orgasm as he cums inside of you with a rather loud groan. He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls out, sitting on his knees between your legs.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing your knee
“What for?” you brushed his sweaty bangs out of his face
“Helping me when I was mad at my father.”
“If this is what comes from you being mad at your dad, any time, Sho.” You sit up, kissing him before getting dressed so you both can leave before Endeavor comes back.
A/N: Also new dividers. I might switch them up more often.
A/N: This was mostly for me, but I just think this is 100% something Kirishima would do and then get teased for.
Kirishima worshipped the very ground you walked on, he was always pressing passing kisses to your cheek, temple, or lips, he always made sure you were comfortable, sacrificing his seat or his overall comfort, he always made sure you had snacks in your bag, and your water bottle was full, he took notes and studied extra intensely for the classes you both shared just incase you asked for the notes or were confused about a subject, he would know. When you were on your period, he did everything for you just so you wouldn't feel an ounce of stress; he would hug you whenever he saw you and would always say what you were too shy to, and would show affection without ever needing to be asked; he just knew what you wanted. And his friends tease him for it every damn day.
“You do everything for her. I can't imagine a world where a relationship that centered around one person could be healthy.” Sero shakes his head, leaning back in his cafeteria seat.
“I mean, there's two of you in the relationship, Kiri.” Mina comments, slightly concerned.
“I just don't want her to stress,” Kirishima retorts, fully confident in how he conducts himself in his relationship.
“I mean, at least you're getting pussy out of it, right?” Denki asks, taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Not yet,” Kirishima shrugs. The whole table freezes.
“You're doing all that for free?” Denki asks, his face scrunched in confusion.
“Her body isn't a form of payment, Denki; eventually, maybe we’ll start having sex, but not unless she explicitly says she wants to. That's not crazy,” Kirishima shrugs
“Tch, speaking of reader,” Katsuki pipes up as you walk towards the table surrounded by your friends and your perfect redheaded boyfriend. You walk up behind Kirishima, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek.
“Hi, Ei,” you murmur into his cheek. “What are you all talking about?”
“Nothing much. Want my seat? I also got your favorite if you're hungry?” he refers to your go-to lunch you always get sitting in front of him as he immediately begins to attempt to accommodate you. His friends react in a mixture of head shakes and laughs.
A/N: This contains some brief smut... so just a warning, and was inspired by one of my favorite Modern Family episodes, and I just thought the concept is so funny to me, idk, I hope you like it!
Summary: It was your and Katsuki's anniversary, and as a start to your day, things got pretty steamy, but sadly, you were interrupted by your three kids simply trying to bring you both breakfast.
How will you handle it?
“Fuck! Katsuki!” you were face down, ass up in your husband's bed getting railed as his hips piston into yours roughly as he whispers dirty things in your ear (to put it bluntly). It was your tenth anniversary, and all three of your kids (Miharu, Kenji, and Itsuki) were peacefully asleep, or so you thought.
“ngh~ Katsuki i’m gonna cum!”
“Shit, me too,” he groans as he bites your shoulder.
Then your door opens. And your three kids scream and drop a tray of food, running.
“Shit.” Bakugou quickly covers you both as you close the door with your quirk. You both sit there, him still inside you.
“What are we gonna do?” You cover your hands with your face.
“We could finish.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he leans into your ear.
“Get off of me!” You thrash your legs as you roll out of bed and sink to the floor. Bakugo rolls his eyes and sinks down next to you.
“It’s gonna be fine, we don’t have to talk about it with them.” You swat his arm.
“Of course we do! This could shape how they think about sex for the rest of their lives, Katsuki! I walked in on my parents having sex once, and they just let it hang there afterwards. It ruined my relationship with sex for years.” You took a reluctant bite of one of the pancakes that was on the tray on the floor by your feet.
“It's gonna be okay. We’ll talk to them,” he comforts with an eye roll.
Meanwhile downstairs, your three kids were freaking out.“I'm gonna vomit!” your eldest daughter Miharu screeches, gagging.
“I need bleach!” your middle daughter, Itsuki, states loudly, running to the kitchen sink and washing her eyes.
“Whats wrong?” your youngest son, Kenji, inquires.
“What's wrong?! Ugh! Nothing, Kenji; they were just… playing.” Miharu gags again
“Well, whatever they were playing, it looked like Dad was winning.” Kenji shrugs, plopping down on the couch, turning on the TV.
“Gross!” Itsuki exclaims, eyes glued shut, water dripping all over the kitchen counter, sink still running.
Upstairs, you and Katsuki continue to sit and contemplate what to tell the kids. As both of you finally get up, exiting the bedroom, all three kids freeze downstairs. “We need to leave, now,” Itsuki says, pure horror in her tone.
“Yes! They're gonna wanna talk about it.” Miharu shivers at the thought, grabbing your car keys and dragging Kenji behind her out the door as Itsuki closes the door behind her older sister and little brother.
“Huh? What's your guy’s problem?” Kenji asks as he's tossed into the back seat of the minivan.
“They were doing IT, Kenji. IT!” Miharu exclaims as she pulls out of the driveway. Kenji was old enough to know what IT meant but didn't fully grasp his sister's disgust.
“I mean, isn’t that a good thing?” Kenji asks, confused as to why his parents obviously still loving each other was such a big deal.
“Not for us, Kenji. No one should see that.” Itsuki shudders at the thought of the earlier debacle.
Back at the house, you and Katsuki hear the front door slam shut. “The fuck was that?” Katsuki asks at the bottom of the stairs, “Did they just leave? Little shits.”
“Oh please, Katsuki. I would’ve left too. That had to be horrific for them” You pause with a sigh. “They’ll be back, and THEN we can talk.” You try to rationalize, still horrified yourself. “But happy anniversary.” Katsuki chuckles at that, simply pressing a kiss to your temple and humming as he walks into the kitchen to make some breakfast, waiting for the return of his kids.
Miharu, Itsuki, and Kenji ended up driving to some gas station to grab coffee and a donut for kenji. “I should be studying right now,” Itsuki grumbles, still the most shaken, while Kenji sits between his sisters on a bench beside the gas pump the minivan is filling up at, playing with a lighter Miharu bought him.
“Don't make me regret buying you that.” After a few minutes of silently processing, the kids get back in the van, driving back home. Right before opening the door, Miharu pauses. “Whatever they say in there, just nod, okay?” Miharu opens the door, yelling to you and Katsuki. “We’re home!”
“Oh, hey guys, where did you all go?” You walk out, arms crossed, Katsuki trailing right behind you.
“Just around.” Miharu shrugs, sitting down on the couch, signaling for her siblings to do the same.
“We need to talk,” Katsuki states gruffly, stepping in front of the kids, you by his side.
“So… what you guys saw earlier… was- Katsuki?” You cut yourself off, turning to Katsuki, looking up at him expectantly.
“Me and your mom are grown and can have sex when we want.” He says bluntly as the three kids groan, and I hit Katsuki's arm.
“I mean, yes, technically, he is right, and sex is a natural part of any relationship-” The kids collectively groan a second time, getting up from the couch and walking away. “I don't think we did it,” You state, tired and slightly disappointed, as Katsuki tucks you into his side, kissing your head.
you vent in your diary, and, one day, fred weasley accidentally reads some entries and tries to nonchalantly return it.
♪ ─── warnings: mentions of petty teenage drama (not that important), diary entries are overdramatic (pent up rage) and cringe bc it’s a teen diary, established friends, friends to lovers, medium paced burn, swearing, brief mentions of sex + mentions of a past crush, have not read or seen the movies in like 50 yrs, this reminds me of that old tiktok trend “u left ur diary at my house”, made up friend group w/non important oc’s, bsf w ginny, soft!fred(?)
♪ ─── word count: 3k-ish (wish tumblr had a wc 💔)
part two
Dear Diary,
Monday
NELINA IS A FUCKING LIAR. I KISSED LIAM ONCE. ONE FUCKING TIME ON HALLOWEEN, BECAUSE THE FEELINGS WERE MUTUAL AND THIS STUPID CUNT IS TELLING PEOPLE WE HAD SEX IN THE PREFECT LAVATORY.
I HAVE NEVER EVEN HELD HANDS WITH LIAM. HE WAS A CUTE HALLWAY CRUSH TO GET ME OUT OF BED AND TO CLASS. I LIKED HIM BUT I DIDN’T PROPERLY FANCY LIAM. WE KISSED, PASSED A FEW NOTES, STOLE A FEW GLANCES, BUT WE NEVER EVER HAD SEX. OH MY DAYS. SHE IS INSANE.
I FUCKING TRUSTED HER. IT WASN’T A BIG DEAL— IT’S JUST A KISS— BUT SHE’S MAKING IT ONE. YOU KNOW HOW I FOUND OUT? BECAUSE NELINA TOLD ABBY, AND ABBY TOLD ME. I’M GONNA KILL HER. I HATE HER AND HER STUPID SISTER. I SEND PLAGUES ON HER HOUSE. CURSE HUFFLEPUFFS. THEY ARE ALL EVIL. NEVER TRUST A HUFFLEPUFF.
Dear Diary,
Tuesday
Whatever, it’s fine. I’m sure my peers are competent to decipher that RUMOURS aren’t FACTS. But there’s always IDIOTS who believe ANYTHING.
I don’t even know if it’s worth clearing my name, but I asked Liam if he heard anything about it. He did… from his friends... I almost died, but I knew it was important to clarify some things. It wasn’t a big deal to him, but he promised to confront Nelina tomorrow. We’ll see. I don’t want to deal with her; she better stay out of my way.
Ginny suggested voting her out of the friend group. She’s always been problematic; I think we’ve just normalized her behavior. I highly doubt something will be done about Nelina. Ginny, Abby and I are going to Hogsmeade this weekend. Obviously, a certain somebody wasn’t invited— wasn’t even told— and we’d like to keep it that way. I am guiltless and ready to splurge. I need new stationary and some sweets.
Dear Diary,
Wednesday
SHE THINKS SHE’S COOL WITH HER STICK AND POKE TATTOOS. IT GOT INFECTED AFTER TWO DAYS, AND I WAS THE ONE THAT OFFERED OINTMENT FOR IT.
“Oh, your tattoos are so beautiful! What does it mean?”
“Wow, I can’t believe you didn’t get it professionally done; it looks mint!”
IT’S THREE TINY FUCKING DAISIES. THERE’S NO MEANING. IT’S JUST STUPID FUCKING FLOWERS. YOU CAN ABSOLUTELY TELL THEY WERE DONE IN THE SCHOOL LAVATORY. THEY ARE ALL BLOWING SMOKE UP HER ARSE. IF I HEAR SOMEONE COMMENT ON THOSE ABOMINATIONS ONE MORE TIME, I AM BLOWING UP HOGWARTS.
I’m so done with her; I don’t care, truly, I don’t. I’ve always helped her with Divination and Charms— she’s never said thank you or acknowledged my efforts, because students then ask her for assistance, and she tells them that it’s all in the book. Books she didn’t obviously read, because I’m the one doing the work. Never again; I’m never helping her. I’d rather have a Horntail burn off my skin and leave me alive than be in the same
“There you are,” a honeyed tenor voice mused. The words swam from soft lips to your ear so delicately that you almost tuned him out— Fred, endlessly freckled, with his arms crossed in lighthearted disbelief, was observing you. Shoulders tensely hunched, mad black scribbling, quill ready to snap beneath your fingers… you looked insane.
His presence had prickled your overly passionate rumination and burst whatever frothing train of thought you had. The emotions, however, still lingered strongly, or you assumed so, because Fred anxiously glanced down at your bouncing leg. Seeing him was peculiar, not because he was in a library, where’s he’s been notoriously blacklisted, but because none of Ginny’s siblings ever sought you out.
You relaxed your hand and dispatched the quivering quill. “You were looking for me?” You asked him. Your fingers began throbbing.
Fred casually shrugged. He enveloped his large pallid hands into his trouser pockets. “Ginny drafted George and I to help find you,” he answered. “You’ve missed dinner three times this week, mate. She was getting a little worried… something going on?”
“Huh?” You blinked away the automatic response. Your brain quickly processed his inquiries, and you suddenly felt a mild dowse of embarrassment. You nervously licked your lips. “No, sorry. I was just caught up with, uh, revising,” you sheepishly explained.
You weren’t lying. The first two hours spent in the library were dedicated to studying (reminder: arithmetic test tomorrow!). Coincidentally, the following break was the ever time consuming therapeutic journaling.
“You sure?” Fred pressured. He began to inch closer, and you swiftly pulled loose papers over your diary. His back leaned against the adjacent desk. It creaked beneath his shifty weight. “I won’t tell my sister if that’s what you’re worried about.” Fred added with a reassuring smile, “I have six siblings. Trust me, I know how to keep a secret.”
“I promise you: I’m fine,” you invariably said. “I simply lost track of time!”
He earnestly accepted your answer with a nod. “Well,” Fred began. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch a bite or two,” he finished with a humble, tight-lipped smile.
Your leather messenger bag was like the mouth of a tornado, fiendishly sucking in parchment. “Thanks, Fred,” you orated, as you mismatched papers to notebooks and hurriedly stashed writing equipment into a pouch.
The lanky ginger shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t mention it. I’ll tell Ginny I found you in the library— just head down to the Great Hall, alright?”
“Thank you,” you repeated, swinging the swollen bag over your shoulder.
Dear Diary,
Friday
Nelina found out we’ve been hanging out without her; at first, she showed no sign of aggression. This was TERRIBLY wrong to assume. She reported Ginny and I for BULLYING, and McGonagall sat us down after lunch to discuss. It was embarrassing to explain that she was the one spreading rumors about ME. McGonagall didn’t realize the full extent and promised to further investigate before she takes any action.
Ginny must’ve told her brothers, because later that day, during Charms, Fred (I think…) came up to me. Said he felt bad, blah blah blah. I said it was fine, he made a dumb joke to lighten the mood, and offered me gum. I did NOT eat it for my safety.
Dear Diary,
Saturday
I just checked the past few entries, and Nelina The Devil truly has consumed my life. I’m gonna attempt to limit mentions of her (mostly petty inconveniences she causes), but I’ll record major updates.
I’m debating whether or not I should audition for the play. There’s not a lot of info, but I don’t really wanna approach any of the members… I wasn’t aware Hogwarts even had a funded Drama Club… how much does the Ministry of Magic give to us? Why do we only have one janitor? No offense but one janitor isn’t efficient enough to keep a CASTLE clean. I’m pretty sure he can’t even do magic. What is he paid to do??
Dear Diary,
Sunday
My parents sent me sweets!! (And a letter: very thoughtful.) I received a parcel full of fizzy dummies, foam strawberries and bonbons!!! I’m gonna have to ration these.
Wizard sweets are fun and all, but I don’t always want steam blowing out my nose or my skin turning green. Muggle candy may be “boring” (according to Fred and George, as they were there when I opened the package), but it’s straight to the point, sensible, and I don’t want too much happening in my mouth. Ginny got Elephant on a Bicycle candies from Ron for us to try. I am not too keen on the roaring or squealing. Did not enjoy.
Dear Notecard,
Monday
Nelina Satan hexed my shoes to self-walk into walls and people. I’ve collided into a window, Professor Trelawney, Luna Lovegood, and Cedric Diggory. Fred is loaning me his Quidditch sneakers. They absolutely do not fit, so I’m writing this as Fred is shoving extra socks into the insole.
“Here we go,” Fred mused tenderly. He stayed crouching but held up the brown waxy trainers for viewing. You were lucky the Boys’ Locker Room was on the way to Arithmancy, and you were lucky Fred was being so generous.
“You’re just like a cobbler,” you joked, sliding off the loggia railing. You accepted the sneakers graciously. “Thank you so much. You’re a life saver!” You gushed, pocketing the sticky note.
Inside the shoes were two pairs of bunched up socks, crammed against the toe with “padding” around the heel. It was a decrepit and juvenile attempt at tailoring but still much appreciated.
Fred nodded in agreement. “I am,” he restated happily. His arms naturally found themselves akimbo. “Go on, Cinderella, try them on!” He teasingly urged.
Carefully, you placed them down on the cracked stone tiles and cautiously slid your clothed foot inside. The weight was entirely foreign to your ankle; you gently rolled it side to side, testing the waters and finding the extra cushioning beneficial. In went the other foot, so you took baby steps and a small jump. The soles clapped against the hard floor like thunder.
Fred laughed and covered half his face with a large freckled hand. He sighed softly, “But I’ll need them back by the end of the day. I have practice after school.”
“Of course.” You fished out the sticky note and turned it onto the blank side. “I’ll meet you here?” You offered, extracting a pencil.
Fred’s gaze wistfully drifted into the courtyard. “Sure,” he shrugged. He cockily added, “You might as well stay and watch my athletic feats.”
You wanted to roll your eyes but settled for a judgmental side glance instead. “We’ll see,” you retorted before scribbling a footnote.
REMINDER: RETURN SHOES AND GLUE THIS INTO DIARY.
“But…” Fred leaned against a column and crossed his arms. You instinctively looked up at the sound of his voice with innocuous anticipation. “It’s the least you can do.” He added suggestively, “I did you a solid favor after all.”
Your attention rightfully returned to the flimsy sticky note, unknowingly pending on a verdict. You gave him no response, but you included in your To-Do list: QUIDDITCH PRACTICE.
Dear Diary,
Monday (officially documented)
They’re already halfway??? through (unashamedly forgot about my “promise” to Fred— I really needed to finish up that Potions essay), but it’s a lovely day out. Ginny gave me an old pair of trainers.
Is it better to arrive late rather than leave early? Doesn’t really matter, I guess, because I cleared out a lot of homework. I’ve brought foam strawberries to snack on.
They’re flying so fast and so far away— it’s hard to identify who’s who.
Fred MIGHT be #6. I don’t know…
I’ve attended one Quidditch game, the student turnout was very high, but I highly doubt it’s replicated every match.
EEEEEEEEP! was the shrill battlecry of the silver whistle. With great fervor, training officially concluded, and the whole Gryffindor team cheered for a job well done.
A small sprinkle of Slytherin Quidditch players had watched practice (solely to scope out the competition), but they immediately disbanded. Members of the Oliver Wood Fan Club were quickly dispersing from the stands into the arena, hopeful that they’d catch a closer look at the overworked captain.
Proper practice attendee etiquette was unclear. Were you to simply leave? Or should you meet up with a certain redhead to give compliments and inputs?
All the players swooped down to the ground and swiftly dismounted their flying brooms— all except one.
Fred Weasley flew up to the rickety bleachers with hair thoroughly tussled by wind. He had peeled the dark goggles off his brow til they hung loosely around his neck. “Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he grinned teasingly. Perspiration collected on his face, but his cheeks were red as if roses had kissed them.
“Didn’t know if I should,” you sallied, as you stood up.
“You think it was worth it?”
You shrugged and rested your arms atop the railings, “Sure.”
He furrowed his dark brows and cackled. “You don’t follow Quidditch, do you?” Fred asked.
“These are a lot of questions, Weasley. Where was this energy in class?”
“Never too worried about it,” Fred boasted. With the back of his hand, he swept away the accumulated sweat off his face. He earnestly added, “At least I got you out of that dingy old library.”
Dear Diary,
Tuesday
I can tell who is who when they’re separated (somehow, I don’t know, but I also don’t address them by name just in case), but they’re rarely ever alone, so I NEVER know who is who. I’m 95% sure that it’s Fred who’s been talking to me… We have some classes together without George, so I’m 1000% affirmative for those moments.
I overheard Ron saying someone requested the elves to make Italian tonight. We’ll see if that request was honoured. I need some cheesy lasagna.
Also, I fixed my shoes.
Dear Diary,
Wednesday
Fred stopped by yesterday to remind me about dinner again— I got there just before food was served! I squeezed in between Hermione and Angelina.
Tonight, I had some chickpea curry, roasted potatoes, and pork chops. It was heavenly. Ginny, Fred and George sat before me. One of them (I’m unsure who) flung a chickpea at me, which deflected OFF OF MY FOREHEAD and landed on Hermione’s plate. Surprised is an understatement; Hermione was BAFFLED.
Dear Sticky Note,
Thursday
NELINA “ACCIDENTALLY” POURED A MYSTERIOUS CONCOCTION ON ME. I DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHAT’S IN IT, BUT MY SKIN STARTED TO STING, SO I’M WRITING THIS IN THE BATHROOM. SNAPE SAID I SHOULD GO TO THE INFIRMARY, BUT I REFUSE TO SHOW WEAKNESS.
Dear Sticky Note #2,
Still Thursday
I got 2nd-3rd degree burns, and Nelina got detention. Her parents are being contacted according to Fred (who just came to visit me). He witnessed the whole incident and felt sorry for me. Nelina got 100 points deducted from Hufflepuff. Madame Pomfrey’s making an herbal ointment to apply to my stomach.
Dear Diary,
Friday
Ginny and Abby felt terrible and have officially excommunicated Nelina from the friendgroup. I wasn’t there for the break-up, because I had to tell Prof. Sprout my account of the “accident.” She’s getting suspended for 10 days. My parents heard about it and sent more sweets. Ginny gave me red velvet cookies (I don’t know where they were sourced, but it was delicious). Life is good.
Dear Diary,
Saturday
I think I know the physical difference between Fred and George. Fred’s nose is a little straighter, while George’s got a slight curve to it. It’s not very helpful, because it’s only visible in their side profiles. Ginny said George’s eyes are a little bit bigger, but I don’t see it.
Fred’s been coming to the library everyday. When he has Quidditch practice, he immediately showers after. He must be aggressively lathering himself up with soap, because I can smell him before he’s in view.
He always walks me down to the Great Hall, we’ve gotten pretty close. Who knew Fred Weasley was allergic to pistachios? I wonder what we’ll talk about today.
Knock knock.
“I’m comforted by the fact you’re a creature of habit, but disturbed by your lack of socialization,” Fred mused airily. He retracted his balled up fist from the wood desk and crossed his muscled arms. “Writing anything interesting, Shakespeare?”
You dramatically groaned, shut your journal, and leaned back into the chair. Your arms were stretched high above your head and you yawned obnoxiously. “Nothing you’d understand,” you said.
Fred sarcastically rolled his eyes and pulled out a seat. “Then it must be rubbish,” he accused. “You know I’m one to indulge in high literary merit.”
“Do I?” You rhetorically tested. You scooted your chair outward to face Fred properly. He mimicked you before crossing his legs. “Have you ever read Beowulf?”
He scoffed and pretended to wave the question off. “I know all there is about werewolves,” he said.
“Beowulf isn’t about werewolves,” you giggled.
He exaggeratedly frowned, but the small curves of his lips couldn’t resist smiling. “Is that one of your muggle books?”
“Yes,” you confirmed.
“Any good?”
You shook your head. “Absolutely not.”
Dear Diary,
Saturday night
“Fred, why’ve you been so hygienic recently?” Ron asks— his mouth is absolutely crammed with food. He’s like a chipmunk. We only understood this sentence, because Hermione made him repeat it properly after swallowing.
George gives Fred this weird look and then looks at me.
“You only think it’s ‘so’ because you barely maintain yourself, mate,” Fred quips.
We weren’t laughing AT Ron, but it was funny. Ron blushes, “Whatever.”
The previous and following conversations don’t really matter— it’s this specific moment that bothers me for some unknown reason. George’s glance at me feels unwarranted. He knows something that I don’t. It’s making me paranoid.
Does he think I smell? DO I SMELL?? I only shower at night, because I don’t want to go to class with wet hair. Should I be showering twice???
Dear Diary,
Sunday
I took a shower this morning AND THEN I RAN INTO FRED. I’ll give a very brief summary of our… interaction.
I exit the washrooms holding all my toiletries, dirty clothes and damp towel. I bump into Fred, who’s heading to the showers, also holding a bunch of things. We awkwardly apologize and then
Fred: are you doing anything later today?
Me: no, why?
Fred: do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?
Me: just you?
I thought this was an appropriate question to ask, but Fred makes a weird face.
Fred: yeah…
I take a second too long to think and he makes another strange expression.
Me: sure
Fred: after lunch?
Me: yeah, sounds good
And then we part ways.
I’m gonna get changed. I’ll record how it went if anything notable happens.
Dear Diary,
Sunday night
I need time to ruminate in silence.
Dear Diary,
Tuesday
We went to Madame Puddifoot’s for coffee. It wasn’t a date, I know it wasn’t, but it just felt so… nice? I don’t know. Everything we did felt like something a couple would do. Maybe. I mean, Madame Puddifoot’s is THE hotspot for dates, but I don’t think Fred meant it like that.
I might just be tricking myself or overanalyzing things, but the concept of, I guess, dating Fred just kept haunting me the whole day.
I FEEL GROSS. THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER. BUT I CAN’T HELP IT?? MAYBE?
Like… what if? You know? What if I just want him to smile at me? Or hold my hand? And take me on dates?
I think I’m just super lonely.
BUT HE’S CUTE? AND I MIGHT HAVE A CRUSH ON HIM?
He’s so tall and handsome; he’s athletic and charming and he’s so thoughtful and sweet. He doesn’t need to get me for dinner, but he does. Ginny doesn’t even do that, and we’re closer friends (this isn’t a diss, just I’m old enough to know better and to take care of myself but he’s just considerate enough to show up anyway?). He definitely didn’t need to give me his trainers nor did he need to help me un-jinx mine. BUT I DON’T KNOW? It feels wrong, but there’s logistically no reason for it to… right?
Dear Diary,
Wednesday
I don’t want to fancy him. I CANNOT LIKE HIM. He’s just not my vibe. I’m practical, and he’s very… flamboyant. Plus, it would make things between Ginny and I strange— especially if Fred and I broke up. I come over to The Burrow on holiday all the time, so things would get bloody awkward seeing an ex at a sleepover.
We probably wouldn’t get along romantically. Our sense of humour is a little different. I’m not too big on pranking people, and that’s the twins’ whole thing. Fred’s so creative, he and George invent, design, and create their own products for their future business. I don’t have the capacity to even begin a project like that. He’s too confrontational for me. He smells so sharp and of spice. Every inhale makes my eyes water and sting. I’d prefer someone more subtle and likeminded, maybe a little more introverted and organized.
Yesterday, during Transfiguration, he asked if he could share my ink cartridge. I can’t date someone who’s unprepared for school (I said yes but that was out of courtesy). AND THEN HE ASKED IF HE COULD BORROW MY NOTES. Not only is he inattentive in class, but he’s DOUBLE unprepared. I’d probably go insane if I had to deal with that… (I gave him the notes).
In hindsight, these things weren’t big deals. In the moment, I didn’t even care, so I have no clue why I’m so worked up about it after the fact. I don’t want to have a crush. Especially on Fred. I’m gonna try my best to act normal.
Since the weekend Hogsmeade trip, your mental and physical ecosystem had been thrown off its balance. Your thoughts moved laggardly, which unfortunately transferred to your work ethic, but History of Magic with dastardly ancient Professor Binns was always dreadfully languid and painstakingly dull.
The lined sheets of paper were starved of productive note-taking today. A few bullet points followed an unenthusiastic “Chapter 12” headline. The margins bore no outrageous doodles or caricatures of wizards past, and Professor Binns was prattling endlessly about the muggle-fought World Wars. Who knew the Great Depression also affected Wizarding Society? You didn’t, because you weren’t paying attention.
“We began observing the Soviet Union’s attempts to placate the steep decline in the economy…”
Blah blah blah blah. You might as well have been sleeping with your eyes wide open.
“… the democratic socialism had more regulations on businesses…”
The dilapidated grandfather clock in the corner was nowhere close to lunchtime. Its bony iron fingers trudged along the slim white face inconspicuously. Forty more minutes of this— absolutely awful!
“Why… you… all… ways…hat?”
“distribution of wealth… electoral politics…”
A warm pointed elbow nudged your slouching arm. You eyed the white scribbles on the blackboard, which was easy to decipher when your professor is see-through. “Huh?” You looked at your table mate, Fred, who had taken Nelina’s seat since her suspension.
He snickered at your cluelessness. “Why do you always do that?” Fred repeated in a whisper.
“What do you mean?” You retorted quietly. You instinctively picked up your pen and dipped it in the ink well.
“How do you just…” Fred wetted his lips, as words failed him momentarily. He chuckled to himself. “How do you disappear like that?”
You began scratching words onto the lackluster parchment. “There’s always something cooler to think about,” you mumbled lightheartedly. It was your turn to nudge his arm now. “Especially when you’re in this class, don’t you think?” You quipped.
The two of you shared a look at the ghostly apparition of a teacher. How Binns even picked up chalk pieces— you didn’t know. The translucent man was drawing a timeline, appropriately adding notches for years following the First World War.
Fred leaned his head backward, resting it on the straight ledge of the chair. “I might explode if we don’t move on from the Soviet Union,” Fred grumbled, as his hands dragged down his face.
You tried to copy down the timeline, but boredom possessed your hand, and you stashed your quill away. “Dreadful,” you agreed.
“You coming over for Easter holiday?” Fred whispered.
You perked up at the notion of vacation— but it was sooooooooo far away from today. Your spirits fell as quickly as they were raised. You answered solemnly, “I don’t think so. Why?”
Fred’s soft features were puzzled into confusion.“I thought Ginny would’ve invited you to The Burrow.”
“I mean, she suggested it, but she never actually asked your parents,” you explained. You hushed up, when Professor Binns turned to face the class, trying to provoke student participation.
“What was the Ministry’s affirmative action plan called? Anyone?” The old man wasn’t expecting much of a response (he usually never received one), but the deadly silence that followed was unnerving even to a ghost. A few awkward seconds passed, and Binns answered himself. “MAGES: Mitigation Aid and Gain Enhancing Support.”
Once he turned around, you pensively lowered your voice, wary about catching the professor’s attention. “I just don’t want to show up unannounced,” you murmured.
Fred hadn’t caught what you said and was inclined to lean in closer. He smelled like cinnamon and amber, and his body heat radiated off of him like sunlight. “Sorry?”
You scooted towards him, bringing your lips to his ear. “I don’t want to show up unannounced,” you clarified.
He looked at you dumbfounded and with red cheeks. “Harry and Hermione are over all the time. They never tell us they’re coming half the time,” Fred sputtered reassuringly. “My mum and dad would love to have you,” he added softly. “I mean, I certainly will.”
You couldn’t help but blush.
Dear Diary,
Friday morning
I GOT UP EARLY TO SHOWER AND YOU’RE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THE CONVERSATION I EAVESDROPPED ON.
FRED WEASLEY HAS A CRUSH ON SOMEONE. I AM RELEASED FROM THIS PRISON. NO MORE SILLY CRUSHES.
I was trying to be quiet, careful not to disturb anyone, but in the corridor I hear these 2 girls whispering. Naturally, like the snoop I am, I stop short of entering their peripheral and stand there to listen. It’s really creepy, I know, but I’m so intrigued— BUT NOT ONCE DID THEY MENTION WHO IT WAS HE FANCIED.
The one CRUCIAL detail was left out (because they didn’t know BUT STILL).
It’s none of my business... but I just like knowing stuff and hoarding information. What’s the problem with that? Maybe I can play matchmaker.
Dear Sticky Note,
Friday
The thought of him with someone else is making me physically unwell. I almost threw up after lunch. Who could he possibly like? I am DYING to know.
Dear Diary,
Saturday
I like my best friend’s brother. I like Ginny’s BROTHER.
I like the color of his hair and the way he parts it. I like his little freckles and the shape of his lips. He’s got a scar above his eyebrow. I generally just enjoy looking at his face— he’s got a nice neck and pretty toned arms, though I rarely get to see them, but his hands are always available, and they’re so long and smooth.
This little crush has lingered in the doorways he held open for me. It’s made me hallucinate reciprocation in his smile and fidgeting hands. He talks so softly and is more gentle with me than anybody else.
I swear to Merlin that this is real; I just DON’T KNOW HOW TO PROVE IT. I’m not going mad! I’ve been going through all the stages of grief— denial, anger, depression, bartering, and now acceptance. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING. I KNOW IT IS. HE’S EITHER THE DEVIL INCARNATE AND THIS IS A FOUL PRANK, OR MY INTUITION IS UNLIKE ANY OTHER. All I know is that
I FANCY FRED WEASLEY.
FUCK.
Fred wasn’t nosy per se, but, at times, he found himself insatiably curious. George and he have spent dozens of hours dissecting the ingredients of Zonko’s candies (some masters are unwilling to take on apprentices; the Weasley Twins will make their own name…). And the greasy slime-ball that is Snape would never admit it, but Fred and George had the art of potions down to a tee. It was their reticent professor who inadvertently assisted the creation of their Ton-Tongue Toffee and Canary Creams.
But if there was one question he desired answered, it would be about you. What was going on in that little head of yours? Your very existence was a paradox— those scintillating eyes of yours were always askance, always drifting off to lala land, but watchful and keen enough to be overly critical. Your head may perpetually be in the clouds, but your ears persisted in their function; they picked up enough detail for you to seamlessly integrate yourself into conversation and activity, but you had a debilitating (yet charming) awkwardness that struck down nonchalance.
Regardless of where he was coming from, Fred could show up to your usual corner of the dusty library and find you writing in the same black leather journal. He knew you were a diligent note-taker (most days) and (evidently) a passionate academic, but this little book consumed all your attention. Judging by its lack of highlighting, doodles, graphs and timelines Fred presumed you were drafting a novel…?
He never asked.
On Monday, it was the same usual charade: he’ll emerge from the bookshelves, crack a witty remark, and patiently watch you scramble for your belongings. You’ll glide past him without sparing him a glance, because you knew he would always follow— but, today, he hesitated. Because when you first caught him in your peripheral, he noticed you had quickly stashed the black leather journal into a stack of withering library books. And when you had packed up all your things, you forgot to retrieve it…
So he took it.
Fred pulled it out from the pile, lodged it into his own bag, and caught up to you before you realized how far behind he was.
Did he know it was wrong? Potentially, but he highly doubted that it contained any sensitive information. Fred’s intentions were innocuous; was it a crime to want to know what caught your interests?
After dinner (which consisted of woeful discussion about the Transfiguration test results, spicy lamb stew and vegetable roasts), Fred retreated to the Boys’ Dorms for some… investigative journalism. As his roommates were heading off the showers, Fred landed on his bed, stomach first, and whipped out the waxy-covered tome.
Fred ran his thumb across the smooth paper edges; judging by the thickness of the written sections, you must’ve been knee-deep in your novel.
Should he start from the beginning? Nah, where’s the fun in that? Books rarely interested Fred; the flowery paragraphs spent on developing the setting and scenery were disgustingly boring— action sequences and brilliant battles were what he sought.
So he flipped to the latest entry—
I like my best friend’s brother.
Oh. This was gonna be one of those fluffy romance books.
Fred tried not to frown; romcoms weren’t really his thing, but it was hard to decipher what you did and didn’t like sometimes (girls had always been aloof enigmas; his specialty was pranks, not flirting). Reading your story could probably help him learn more about you.
I like Ginny’s BROTHER.
Wait a minute…
His eyes glanced at the top of the page.
Dear Diary,
Fred’s heart stopped.
HOW ON EARTH DID HE MISS THAT? THIS WASN’T A DRAFT— THIS WAS A BLOODY DIARY! HE WAS IN POSSESSION OF YOUR DIARY OF ALL THINGS!
“Oh fuck.”
He looked at the last few squiggly lines.
I FANCY FRED WEASLEY.
FUCK.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh with relief, but ‘fuck’ was right— Fred Weasley was gonna be in huge fucking trouble for seeing this.
“What’re you reading?”
“BLOODY HELL!” Fred slammed the diary shut.
George initially winced at the shrill shriek, but then cackled at his twin’s plight. “Something dirty, I’m assuming?” George mused, “Your face has gone all red—!”
Fred leaped out of the bed and seized George’s shoulders.
George’s straight brows narrowed furiously. “What’s wrong with you?” He exclaimed. He grabbed Fred’s arms, trying to peel his grasp away.
“George, listen to me—,”
“I am!” He withered.
“SHHHHH!” Fred hushed, pressing a finger against his brother’s lips. “I wasn’t reading anything, okay? I don’t read. I don’t like books—,”
George looked down at the journal, sitting innocently on the bed, “So it is something dirty…?”
“NO! I WASN’T READING ANYTHING!”
“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” George asked, as his twin pushed him away. The boy stumbled backward and tenderly massaged his bicep, where Fred had aggressively grabbed him.
Fred pointed an aggravated finger at George. “You didn’t see anything, alright?” He hissed.
George scoffed, “Merlin’s beard, fine! I didn’t see anything! God, what’s up your arse today?”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You and peter parker ahad been best friends for a long long time, recently something had changed though. You had filled out since you two were kids and he had gotten taller and ever so slightly less gangly. Fast forward to november of your guy’s senior year things had begun getting a little steamy, or experimental if you will, and this “experimenting” led to you and Peter screwing against his closet door, he had his hands underneath your thighs as he thrusted up into you. This wasnt the first time things had gotten more intimate between the two of you, but definitely the farthest. But suddenly Peter stopped, and before you could ask what was wrong he had already pulled out and away from you quickly getting dressed and shoving you in his closet with your clothes as his uncle ben and aunt may walked in. Ben asks peter “is there something you’d like to tell us?” you could see the three of them standing in peters room through the slits of the closet door. “N-not that is can think of- did you need something?” peter replies
“Just thought i heard something like… oh i dont know, reader maybe?” Ben comments
“Being here when she wasnt supposed to” May adds
“Nope. just me” your heart beats fast in my chest on the other side of the door, which you lean against to hear better until suddenly may opens the door, and you tumble out with a scream thankfully clothed, but your jeans were unbuttoned and your hair was messy, “sup auntie?” you ask as you call may and ben your aunt and uncle.
“And what are you doing here?” may asks looking down at you, whos on your back looking up at may, “studying” i respond.
“In the closet?”
“Yup”
“Go home reader”
“Yup, got it, I'm going now.” You stand up, holding your coat and belt as you hurry out of Peter's room and down the stairs, leaving behind a painfully awkward situation for Peter to take care of.
A/N: I know it's been a while, and this isn't the usual length or quality. I've been very busy. sorryyy.
You were Katsuki’s sidekick, his very, very, VERY hot sidekick that just so happens to be his soulmate. Katsuki first noticed this when you had been talking to him and took a sip of your coffee, which was way too hot, and you burned your tongue, which he felt and cursed, ending his sentence rather abruptly. You looked at him, confused “what’s wrong?” you asked as you stuck your tongue part of the way out of your mouth, “Nothing, I bit my tongue.” you knew what was happening but decided not to push any further as he continued his update’s on an upcoming mission. After that moment, Katsuki saw you in a whole new light, every little noise you made when you were deep in thought or threw a punch in a fight, all the different faces you made, your laugh, smile, eyes, lunch orders, etc. He was bordering on obsessed. It was bad. He could barely hold a conversation with you without getting hard, which led to a certain purchase franchised to feel “Extra life-like.”
So there he was washing a fleshlight in his bedroom bathroom sink. You had worn a particularly tight tube top and low-hanging linen pajama pants to his agency before your first patrol shift together. Then, during both of your lunch breaks, you decided to go eat together, and apparently it was really good, with the way you were moaning with almost every bite. His last straw was when there was a break in at a jewlry store and the thief had a knife quirk, you were fine but he had tore your suit from where your tits ended to the bottom of your ass, and all the way back to the agency he could see where your butt met your upper thigh with every step you made. He had been rock hard all day so as soon as he got home and his new toy was wahed he had pulled his sweats down with his boxers before laying down in his bed collecting the precum spilling out of his tip as he stroked his cock a few times before sticking it into the tight fleshlight.
Back at your house you were sitting on your couch watching your new favorite show when all of a sudden you felt a painful stretch like feeling in your core you tore the blanket off of you sitting up straight and staring down, concerned but a few seconds later feeling a wave of pleasure as it feels liek something or somebody thrusting into you. You moan as it finally clicks in your head, Katsuki is either getting laid or jerking off. It was much more likely he was jerking off due to how little he ever talks about or has time for just casual hook-ups.
Katsuki starts to thrust even harder, hitting the back of the toy with ease as he groans, speeding up. At this point you were rubbing your clit in quick tight circles as you moan out Katsuki’s name, as your pussy tightens and flutters around nothing. Katsuki can feel the movement and throws his head back groaning, suddenly he stops, remembering you can feel EVERYTHING, and he can feel it too. But his pause is short lived as he thinks about you spread out on your bed with your hand down you pajama’s at the feeling of a ghost dick (sry ) hitting you g spot over and over. You feel the pause and wonder what happened before screaming out as he continues faster and harder. You can feel your close you grind into your hand and clamp down around nothing as you cum shouting his name. Katsuki groans loudly feeling the toy clench around him he cums into the toy as he arches his back off his bed. He pulls out of the toy and throws it to the feet of his bed as he goes to the bathroom to shower and clean up.
The next day, you walk in, immediately seeing Katsuki and turning abruptly down a hall as your face turns bright red. Katsuki sees you and speeds after you, grabbing your wrist. “Hey!”
“What’s up?” you ask, turning around but avoiding his burning gaze.
“Go out with me,” he states flatly, grabbing your face and gently turning it toward him
“Was that a question?”
“I guess,” he shrugs as his face turns pink.
You giggle, “Sure.”
“Tsk. Send me your address, wear something cute, I’ll pick you up at seven.” With that, he walks away as you stand there stunned, with your heart pounding in your chest.
A/N: This wasn't very good but I felt like I needed to post something :)
This fic was inspired by This fic so check it out!
A/N: this fic was inspired by one I read a bit ago but I can't find the author love the story tho!
You and Bakugou had been in a semi-secret relationship for almost a year now. Both of you were in your third year of UA, and in both of your heads, the two of you were much more secretive than you actually were. The two of you were SO bad that even Aizawa knew the two of you were dating even before the incident. You and Bakugou had just finished a rather strenuous training session, and you had fallen asleep on the couch. Waking up once you felt the weight of your boyfriend at your feet.
“Katsuki?” you groggily open your eyes. You sat up on the couch, now fully awake, as Bakugo lifted your legs over his.
“Tch. ya, sorry I woke you up.” An apology was rare from Bakugo, but he was rather tired too, since instead of taking a nap like you had, he went up and showered.
“You're ok.” You scootch toward him, almost on his lap, and begin to kiss him. He repositions you so that your legs are resting on either side of his thighs as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You grab his neck to kiss him deeper as his hands rest on top of your ass. But your movements stop as the hall light turns on. Your stomach drops, and you immediately hop off of Bakugou's lap.
“Ahem. It's past curfew, get to your dorms, NOW..” You both get up and shamefully walk to the elevator, avoiding Aizawa's disappointed stare as the two of you trek back to your respective dorms.
The next day seats had changed in the class, which rarely happened, but now you were seated one table further from Bakugou. The rest of the class was wondering why the class had been moved around while you both sat there quietly, avoiding Aizawa's pointed glares.
But the worst thing was that the same thing happened, but a few weeks later. The two of you had finished your classwork early and asked to be excused to the bathrooms a few minutes apart, but instead of going to the bathroom, you both met up outside of and unlocked a storage closet. While you both were gone, Denki had spilled some drink all over his desk and the floor, so Aizawa begrudgingly left the class to go grab paper towels since the class was out. You and Bakugou were all over eachother moaning and grinding, sucking on each others necks. The two of you were so enthralled with your little makeout session, you didn’t hear Aizawa's footsteps outside of the closet.
“Mmmh, Katsuki.” You moan as he bites on your neck right above your collarbone.
“Get out.” Both of your eyes fly open as you're being dragged back to class by Aizawa, repeatedly scolding the two of you for getting caught. You both have to sit at the opposite ends of the class, trying not to make eye contact with any of the stunned classmates.
Aizawa believed the two of you would never learn your lesson, so he brought in recovery girl the next day. “Okay class yesterday it was brought to my attention that some of you,” he stares at you and Bakugou “may need to learn somethings about protection. So I have brought in recovery girl to give a lesson on sex ed.” everyone groans errupting into a symphony of questions as you slowly slide down in your seat and a flushed bakugo starts screaming at kirishima as he asked bakugo with a smirk and quirked eybrow if the lesson had anything to do with him.
Summary: You and Sero like to get high, but for the first time, things go further than just kissing.
Warnings: smut, cussing, mentions of drug use, fingering, penetration
A/N: This is my second fanfic ever and my first time writing smut, so bear with me ik this is basic, but it can only get better from here.
Mina:...
Mina: Y/N! Come to my dorm. Everybody's here, but you were gonna smoke weed and listen to music.
You:...
You: Okayyyy I’m omw Don’t worry. <3
You set down your phone and slide your feet into a pair of white bunny slippers on the floor by your bed. You weren’t super worried about how you looked since you were just gonna hang out with your friends. So you left your dorm in super soft pajama shorts and a tank top under your f/a’s concert hoodie, you pull up your hood, grabbing your water bottle on your nightstand and walk to Mina’s dorm.
Y’all were freshmen at UA university and enjoyed getting high to take the edge off of the piles of assigned work with strict due dates looming over your heads. You make it to Mina’s dorm, and as you open the door, a cloud of smoke billows out of the room as you're yanked in by a pink hand, blinking hard and coughing a bit at the sudden intrusion of weed in your lungs. You sit down next to a baked sero as he inhales the seemingly fresh blunt as 2000s pop songs fill your ears. Mina is screaming about some guy in one of her classes while you cuddle up to Sero's body. You slowly mellow out the more puffs you take of the slowly shrinking blunt. You and Sero were close. You had made out a few times while high but never brought it up after the fact. The further into the night it got, the closer the two of you got, until you were sitting on his lap quietly moaning into his mouth. His hand starts to wander under your shorts, so you stop his movements and ask if he wants to head back to his dorm. he nods, and you get off his lap, grabbing his hand as he stumbles a bit getting up.
You both walk back to his dorm, hand in hand. You both stumble into his dorm, roughly kissing each other, and stumbling toward his desk. He sets you down on the sturdy table, fitting snug between your thighs, your lips only parting every few seconds to catch your breath. You noticed Sero was really quiet when he was high, so you didn’t expect much noise on his end. His hand again went between your thighs and crept up your shorts.
“I want to touch you,” he pants as you lift your hips slightly so he can slide your shorts down to your ankles along with your underwear. He goes back to roughly kissing you as his fingers slowly enter your dripping hole.
“Ahh Sero.” you moan softly gripping his hair as he moves his lips down your jaw to suck on your neck. He then pushes into you with another finger curling them upward, thrusting in and out of your heat. You throw your head back, moaning loudly as he curls into just the right spot. You grind down on his hand as he smirks, nibbling on the spot where your neck meets your jaw, leaving a purple mark in his wake. He inserts another finger dropping to his knees and begins sucking on your clit.
“Fuuuuuck,” you moan grinding down on his face he sucks harder curving his fingers just right.
“Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck i’m gonna cum!” you scream gripping his hair grinding down hard before releasing on his face. He licks you clean, kissing your thighs before he pulls down his sweats with his boxers, quickly opening the drawer by your right thigh, pulling out a condom, tearing it open, and slipping it onto his throbbing member.
“Can I?” he asks while his tip rests against your clenching hole
“We made it this far,” you respond, looking at him dumbfounded. He chuckles pulling your hips closer to the edge of the desk he rubs his member along your slit before slowly sliding into you. You grip the edge of the desk, squeezing your eyes shut as he bottoms out inside of you. he rests his head on your shoulder, groaning as you adjust to his size.
“Move…Please,” he looks up at you, smiling a bit as he pulls out roughly pushing back in setting a steady pce until he picks you up by the back of your thighs moving to the wall by the desk holding you against the wall by under your knees hitting a new spot in your body leaving you a moaning mess. “AH Sero harder!” he obliges pounding into your g-spot his pubes hitting you clit with every thrust as you grab his hair for the third time that night as you near your second orgasm. You moan loud as you cum hard on his abs him right after he turns to the right setting you back down on the desk, slowly pulling out tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by your feet. You hop off the desk to grab your discarded shorts and underwear that landed on the floor by the foot of the desk.
“That was really good. Your pussy is like magic,” he comments looking at you with red eyes, “we should do that again… soon.” he added.
“Sure, Sero. I wonder if you fuck even better when your sober.” you wink at him as you walk out of his dorm. ‘Shit’ you think wondering if you’ll be able to keep pretending that you aren’t inlove with him.’ baby steps’ you sigh walking back to your dorm to shower.
Mina:...
Mina: You forgot your water bottle in my room. I’m walking it back to your room.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
snowghoul
germansingergirl
tangentwithtanner
titsay
