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shutit-haha · 7 months

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"Katsuki," you swayed, "I think I might have been roofied."

"What!?" He gives himself whiplash from how fast he turns, neck cracking and muscles giving a slight pull. The two of you are in some damn frat house because someone invited you and you REALLY wanted to go. Knowing full well that you would stay here for an hour tops, half-hour if everything was already in full swing. This was certainly knew though, I mean 45 minutes in and you've been ROOFIED!

"I said," you leaned against him. Closing your eyes and attempting to take deep breaths even though those very same breaths seemed to make it feel worse. "Sorry Kat," you grabbed at him tightly with your hand. "My stomach's getting all swirly."

He goes into full fucking panic mode. His large hands wraps around your arm a little too tightly dragging you into the crowd with him. He's moving like a fucking linebacker just shoving whoever's in his way. The blonde takes a sharp left turn around a corner yanking you into a hallway with him. The lights here are shut off making it damn near pitch black. His shoulder slams into strangers making out and dry humping and the two of you cringe at the moans that come from the many bedrooms. The floor underneath your feet is sticky, and with the way you feel right now it's a fight just to rip yourself off the wood. Your muscles feel heavy, eyes barely open. The world keeps swirling and spinning, bright colors popping out at you even in the darkness. There's this terrible throbbing between your legs, making your thighs tremble slightly.

"Kat," you whine. He kicks open the bathroom door throwing out the couple currently occupying the space.

"Yea," he gently guides you over to the toilet bowl. "Wait actually don't fucking touch anything in here, it's all disgusting. Bastards don't know how to fuckin act." He's tugging you out into the hallway again, the couple from just a few seconds ago scurrying back in.

"Katsuki," your legs are struggling to keep up. You feel weak in the knees, stumbling over yourself as a result. Your hearing comes and goes, a war between absolute silence and migraine inducing noise. "Bakugo I can't," air escapes you in huffed breaths. "I can't keep up, please," you beg him.

The blonde -still rushing for a reason you don't understand anymore- scoops you up in his arms. "I'm gonna get that shit out of your system, and kill that asshole. Fuckin scum, piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk the earth." He grumbles clutching on to you even tighter. Your brain is so fuzzy you giggle at his silly words. "What," he looks down at you for a quick second.

"Hot, Kat. Tired," you yawn. Moving with large strides Bakugo carries the two of you out of the fraternity. You shiver the moment the cool air hits your sweating skin. "Cold," you whine curling into him and wrapping tightly around his neck. The poor man chokes with the grip you've got him in. How the hell is he expected to breath in a condition like this?! Not only that but you're pressed flush against him with the way you've twisted yourself around.

"HAH, didn't you jus' fuckin say you where hot?!"

"I'm hot on the inside Katsuki," you screech and wail. You say it like it's common knowledge and it kills him a little. "Wait," your hands fly outward. "I got throw up." The man damn near drops you, only half careful of how he's handling you. Your feet hit the ground and you bend at the ankles and then knees. Just as you're situated it all hurls itself back up. It's ok though, because he's here to hold back your hair for you.

"Gotta get your dumbass home," he mumbles under his breath. You whine bringing your hand up to your mouth to wipe away the mess, only for Bakugo to grab at your wrist. "Don't you fuckin' dare, that shit's gross."

"How am I supposed to clean myself," you look up at him with big blown pupils. Your lashes leave long shadows on your face from the streetlight, lips puffy from whatever drug was forced into your system. There's water lining the bottom of your eyes, a result from emptying your guts, and you're still so hot.

"Just hold on a minute, dammit." His head whips around in search of something, though to no one's surprise there's not much to clean with on the front lawn. His eyes fix onto the door, resignation settling in. "Don't you fucking move from here," he points down at you aggressively. "Do you understand?"

You nod absentmindedly, hand coming up to your mouth once again.

"Don't do that shit! Just sit still dammit, I'll be right back." He hates having to run back into that fucking mess of a party. It reeks worse than it did before, the odor much more noticeable after breathing in some fresh fucking air. He fears that if he makes the wrong step he'll roll his ankle from the sticky floor, and then theirs all the bodies. These jiggling, sweaty bodies, in sync and yet still so far off beat. He's quick, bulldozing through all those extras to get to where he's going. You've been fucking drugged by one of these damn creeps and part of Bakugo worries that they'll find you while you're all alone out there.

"Katsuki," big gooey smile, when he emerges back outside. A shiver racks through him, the cold catching him off guard. He immediately steels himself right afterward determined not to let it happen again. "Katsuki," you sing, "kat-suki, suki, kat. kat, suki," you giggle and then smile. You're clearly out of your damn mind, body rocking back and forth while your hands grip onto your ankles tightly. You look like a fucking kindergartener, at the thought of that he snorts.

"Here," he throws the whole paper towel roll at you.

"Thank yoou," more singing, and an even bigger grin.

He only spares you a couple seconds to clean yourself before he's yanking you up onto your feet. The rough skin of his hand wraps around your elbow, and you stumble right into his side. The roll is hugged close to your buddy like some sort of stuffed animal, thighs pressed together tightly. "Can you carry me again?" Your eyes fall shut sleepily, cheek resting against his hard shoulder.

"Hah!?"

"Please," your hip presses against his now. "Please, I'll kiss you if you'll do it for me."

"Don't say that shit," his cheeks dust pink like a school boy.

You giggle, "I'll kiss you even if you don't pick me up." Paper towel roll still pressed against your chest, you lean into him lips grazing under his jaw. "I wanna kiss you," you hum breathing in his scent.

"Don't say that shit!"

"But I wanna kiss someone," you whine.

"Someone?"

"Anyone," you kiss the flesh at his jaw and neck.

"That shit's getting to you."

You nod absentmindedly again, placing another kiss on his warm skin. "Mhm, I think so."

"I'm taking you home," he bends at the knees slightly begrudgingly picking you up.

"Mmmm," you hum, "I like the sound of that."

He squeezes your thighs harshly receiving a slight hiss from you. "Gotta fucking behave if I'm gonna be doing this shit for you. Not gonna fucking baby you for you to be a brat."

Your arms wrap around his neck bringing yourself as close to him as possible. That damn paper towel roll still smooshed between the two of you. "Does that mean you're gonna punish me?" It was said so innocently, still made his cock twitch.

"Don't say that shit," he growls at you, jostling your body as a way of adjusting himself.

"I'm sorry," you kiss his neck, "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that shit either."

"But," you grind against his abs, "I need to feel something."

"Not me! Take care of yourself later," the thought of you touching yourself quickly popped into his head. Once again he was jostling you to adjust his pants.

"You feel so good," another innocent comment as you grind yourself against him.

"What's I say about behaving," he snaps at you.

"But you said to take care of myself."

"Later!"

"Are you gonna punish me now?"

Thank god the car was coming into view. "Oi! I'll fucking drop you!" He hakes his head, "the hells your obsession with that shit."

You shrug, "like how your hands feel on my ass." Another kiss to his neck, and then your hips jolt on their own grinding against his hard abs. This time you just can't stop yourself, the pit of your stomach feels like it's on fire and the way your muscles are contracting- you just have to. You need too.

"Hey," some part of his subconscious had clearly been paying attention to you. The part about his hands, and the punishment, because his hand came up and then down in one sudden slap. You could hear it whoosh in the air, and then that crackle when it met your rear. You stilled, moaning and arching your back. He nearly fucking dropped you, the one hand holding you completely unprepared for that hell of an arch.

"Fuck," you panted. Your lips kissed a trail up his neck and then nipped the skin behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry d-" You bit your lip, suppressing what so desperately wanted to be said.

He fucking dropped you.

Your legs where shaky, knees buckling soon as your feet hit the floor. You expected to fall onto your knees just like you did on the lawn, but he slammed you up against the car. Your back roughly hit the metal, one hand keeping your hip trapped against it, the other hand keeping hold of your wrist. "You're driving me fucking crazy you know that," he spat in your face. His breath fanned against your skin, eyes burning. "I have no clue what that fucker gave you but-"

You kissed him, hips wiggly in his hand in search of friction. He bit your bottom lip, teeth sinking into plush, your back arched. "Fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, swear I'll stop after that. It'll make it stop just fuck me please just-"

He leaned back in, mouths smashing together, teeth clinking just before he forces his tongue in catching a taste of your mouth. Aphrodisiac, "bastard gave you a fucking rape drug."

You shake your head, hips wiggling with more vigor. "No want it," you breath heavily, "want it."

He shoves you aside, opening the passenger door for you, "just the drug."

"No," you're crying now. Hand venturing down to your waist band to give yourself some kind of relief. "Want you," you bite your lip when your hand grazes your clit. "I-" pant, "want you." All your weight is held up by the car, eyes shut to better see the fantasies. "Fuck," you groan.

He doesn't know what to do, he's kind of just watching you. It feels gross, feels wrong but, fuck he likes it. Mouth agape while you fuck yourself to him. It's not real. He's gonna wale up. It's just a wet dream, a movie.

"Wanted you since-" gulp, "that compression shirt, at the- at the gym." You whimper at that, "sweat, nipples were hard." Your eyes open all half lidded and hazy, pupils having consumed whatever color was once there. Your sclera isn't even visible anymore. "You're such a whore," as if your fucking pussy wasn't literally squelching right now.

That was it for him, you weren't gonna fucking insult him like that. As if you were some fucking saint. Yeah, right. He slams the passenger door shut, the back door flying open followed by him quickly shoving you into the car. Your back bounces on the leather seats, one hand quickly rushing to yank down your pants and underwear. The burly man climbs in right after you moving with quick hast, he shuts the door behind him with another loud slam.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut," hand squeezing a the sides of your throat. He's fucked once or twice, never like this. In the back of his car, cock aching, in such a hurry. With the way you were acting it seems like it's only take a couple strokes before you tapped out, you had already been edging yourself in a way. (I mean with you grinding and whatever else and him stopping you every other five seconds.)

He unbuttons his jeans, briefly thinking about turning on the air-conditioning only to decide against it. Fuck it, let the windows fog up. (That'd be new too.) Katsuki doesn't even unzip his pants he just tugs at the sides and forces the zipper to go down itself. You brely catch a glimpse of his boxers before those too are tugged down his muscled thighs. Damn gym rat.

He rudely slaps away the hand you have between your legs, only to smack his dick against your clit. "Condom," you mutter.

"Didn't I say to shut up," it's a nasty snarl, yet still you have the balls to smile at him.

"Please," you spread your legs for him.

"Didn't bring one," fuck please don't tell him this is what's gonna cock block him. He'll fucking destroy this car with the amount of anger that wants to blow. Yet you ever so seductively reach into your bra and pull one out.

"Here." You take it between your teeth tearing at the packaging while he pumps himself. You pass it over to him, the wrapper gracefully falling somewhere underneath the seat, condom rolled on in a blink. No prep, just his dick getting shoved into you.

It's a stretch, a painful, hissing stretch. Your tugging at his shirt pulling it off of him while you adjust, his hands sliding up and under to unhook your bra. "Move," it's a command, an order. And despite his big fucking ego, he listens to you. One large hand placed next to your head, the either forcing your shirt up as it ghost over your body. Your scratching at his back, and rubbing his scalp. It's an odd combo of pain and pleasure for the both of you as a result. "More," you're shouting now, "more," you gasp.

"Take your shirt off," his voice is gravelly and out of breath. The hand once fondling with your breast is now gripping under your thigh. It's pushing your legs up and up and up, till they're resting right on top of his strong shoulders. Your pussy clenches around him upon feeling the muscle moving under your legs. His mouth comes down to suck your right nipple, eyes staring dead into yours.

Fuck you're cuming, quick with his name on your tongue. "Not fuckin' done," he groans, grinding into you with another thrust. "Don't even think about movin' didn't-" He hisses, "fuck, didn't get to cum yet." Another grind and then he's bringing a calloused finger to your clit.

"Katsuki..."

"Yeah baby," it's low and husky, drawing more slick from you.

"Was lying about the condom." He gives you a harsh thrust at that, clearly fucking pissed. "Don't give a shit about it," he nearly pulls all the way out to slam back in. "Just wanted to-"

"Get to the fuckin' point," other hand squeezing at your throat.

"Want you to come in me," you're fucking yelling. "Please," begging.

"Fuck baby, that's enough to make me come on the spot."

You whine at that, "no."

"No?"

"No, please. Inside please."

He pulls out, smirking when he sees how your walls clench around the empty space. "Missing me," he teases rolling off the condom carelessly dropping it onto the floor. In a snap he's back in, three strokes and then he's gone.

The liquid is fucking hot, it's scorching. You wanna taste, wish you would have gotten the chance to. The thought of that has your walls fluttering and coming a second time. Your eyes are all dazed and glossy, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. Carefully Katsuki pulls your shaking legs off his shoulders, while your hand reaches up to push his hair out of your face. "Fuck you're a brat," your lip tint smeared all over his lips.

It makes you smile all soft and gooey. "I'm tired now."

He snorts, pulling your underwear back onto you. "'Course you are," he tugs on his boxers and jeans. "Don't let any of that shit spill out you understand me?" He's pointing at you, face back to that scowl. You nod, pulling your pants back on. The both of you tug on your shirts, he moves to the front while you remain laying in the back. You find a sweater of his and tug it on while he starts the car, rolling down the windows to air the thing out.

"We're doing that shit at least one more time," he says pulling the car out of park.

"You're place or mine," you smile at him through the rearview mirror.

#x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #college au #aphrodisiac #afab reader #smut #reader insert #unprotected sex

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 9 months

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tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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zombiec · 2 months

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Behave | Gojo Satoru

(Top male reader)(could be read as gender neutral reader)

(Rock band au)

Synopsis ☆: Gojo and reader are in a rock band and gojo gets mad because reader keeps flirting/leading on fans

Warnings: mirror fucking, riding, little sub reader but they redeem themself

A/n: please yall I been so lazy but trust some more are coming out (I be lyin.) also this is kinda really long or atleast it took me a long time to make it

You were currently backstage about to get ready for your show. Your band ‘The Painkillers’ was about to perform one of your newest albums. Your band consists of you (lead guitarist), Gojo (lead vocalist), Getou (drummer) and Shoko (backing vocalist). Your band was a rock/punk type, which was very popular.

You were currently in a chair in a room that was provided to you, getting your face touched up by a make-up artist. You were looking at yourself in the mirror admiring how fine you look. Suddenly someone busted the door open scaring both you and your makeup artist. Unfortunately for you when your makeup artist got scared she accidentally poked your eye, causing her to apologize profusely. You held onto your eye a little pissed off but you knew it wasn't her fault it was the idiots behind her.

Getou and Gojo both behind her with little smirks on their face which pissed you off. You politely turned to the make-up artist and asked her to please leave. She scurried out of the room with her head down taking her things with her. You looked at getou and scowled at him. “What the fuck do you two want? And next time knock??” gojo came over to you and put his arm behind your neck “Aren’t you excited??” you looked at him from your peripheral vision and moved his arm off of you. “I guess I am” Getou rolled his eyes and groaned “Stop trynna act all cool you know you're excited” “??? i’m acting completely normal” Gojo slapped your shoulder to get your attention…. Which kind of hurt, but you’d never admit that.

“Whatt?” you whined. Gojo looked at Getou then the door and he took the sign to get out. Gojo then walked to the door and locked it. You just stood there confused because what is about to happen….. He turned around and looked you right in your eyes. Gojo walked towards you slowly and wrapped his arms around your neck. It was cute to you because he had to go on his tippy toes. “Are you gonna behave yourself tonight?” your dick throbbed in your pants. You wrapped your arms around his waist and smirked: “What do you mean behave?” gojo put his hands in your hair and pulled you a bit closer “You know exactly what I mean” you knew exactly what he meant.

You made a confused face just to tease him. He pinched your ear and you let go of his waist groaning in pain. “I’m serious” you looked up at him and he had a little pout on his face. “Awee you look so cute” you said to him gushing because of how cute he looks! Gojo was tired of you teasing him and twisted your ear making sure it hurt more. “AHH STOP IT” you slapped his thigh and he let go of your ear.

Before anyone could say anything else there were continuous knocks on the door. You walked to the door and unlocked it. Opening the door you see Shoko. “SHOKOOO MY LOVEE” you engulfed her in a hug and kissed her cheeks “ok ok get off me” she replied giggling at your enthusiastic mood. You and Shoko are best friends you love her so much she’s such a sweetheart. “What’re you here for?” Gojo spoke up from behind you. “I’m here to get you two so we can get ready to go on stage” “damn it’s already time?” You said. “Yes now let’s go.”

Shoko grabbed your hand and walked towards the stage your band needed to be at. Unbeknownst to you gojo was behind you two frowning. The 3 of you made it to the stage, where Getou was waiting. “Damn finally we go on in like 10 minutes” Getou spoke up.

Finally, it was your band's turn. All 4 of you were dressed up in something that consists of black and purple, your band colors. All the lights went off and you could hear gasps in the crowd. Snickering a bit you and the rest went on the stage.

You walked to the side, gojo in the middle, Shoko next to him, and Getou at the end. You picked up your guitar and played a mini little riff while the lights were still off. Everyone’s attention was on the stage, it was completely silent. Suddenly the lights turned on.

Everyone in the crowd erupted into cheers and screams. You and Getou looked at each other with a shocked face because this is a big ass fucking crowd. Usually you guys fans fill up a bar or something..but jeez this is like a stadium.

Gojo introduced the band and we started to play our sets. In the middle of one of the songs you had a solo and you were currently in the middle on your knees playing the guitar like crazy. Sweat was dripping down your body and you were panting. Gojo could not take his eyes off you he just wanted his mouth on your dick immediately.

In your own world you saw how your fans were screaming and raising their hands like they wanted you to touch them. You saw this one cute boy who was kinda short and getting pushed around in the crowd. He has blue hair and had cute little glasses with thin frames. When your guitar solo was over and Shoko started to sing you walked to the edge of the stage and took the boys hand placing it on your stomach and dragging it down to your belt.

The boy immediately blushed and started squealing. Everyone around him started screaming louder and you couldn’t help but smirk. You leaned down and gave the boy a kiss on the cheek and mouthed ‘call me’ while handing him a slip of paper with your number on it.

You felt a little bad though, Because you only did that to make gojo jealous. You and gojo weren’t a couple at all but you guys have fucked a few times. You both have no feelings for each other whatsoever or that’s what you thought atleast.

On Gojos part he does have feelings for you. He knows you don’t have any for him, but he’s cocky enough to think that he could make you fall for him.

After you went back to to your place you looked to your side to see Getou laughing. You made a confused face at him and he mouthed “you’re in trouble.” You sulked. You weren’t ready for after the concert. 30 minutes later the concert ended. You and the others were now signing anything people handed to you. You were lucky because a girl asked you to sign her boobs, had you giggling like a little girl.

The line for VIP guests was ending and at the very end of the line was the boy who you interacted with during the concert. You smirked at him when he came up. “Hi beautiful.” the boy looked up and you can't even lie he was so gorgeous, if you and Gojo didn't have anything going on you definitely would be going after him.

“Um hi can you sign this for me” he spoke up shyly and pushed what he had in his hand towards you. What he gave to you was a cute mini Spiderman plushie that you thought was so cute. You cooed at his shy persona and signed the plushie on its big ass head. you handed it back to him expecting him to walk away but he stayed where he was. “Did um- did you really want me to call you?” he was so shy it was so cute. “Sure if you want to, you're really cute I wouldn't mind getting to know you better” You were lying, you don’t want to be in a relationship . Especially with a fan. His face brightened up. He giggled, said thank you, then ran away.

….” oh boy,” you thought. You turned around to see if the others were done just to see Gojo glaring at you from the side. You looked back at him and made a confused face. He rolled his eyes and stood up. Once he stood up he roughly grabbed you by your collar and dragged you to his dressing room. Not without telling getou and shoko that you two will be right back.

Gojo walked to his dressing room and pushed you in. He locked the door behind him and glared at you. “What do you think you’re doing” you looked at him with a smirk on your face. “Im not doing anything..are you jealous baby?”

Gojo groaned. He was so fucking annoyed by you and your dumb-ass charm. He hates how stupid you are, He hates that you always flirt with the fans and give them false hope. He hates that you're doing this to make him jealous. He hates that he can’t do anything about it because you two are not together. He fucking hates you.

Gojo went up to you hitting you on your chest constantly. “I.Fucking.Hate.You” you knew how gojo felt for you, but you just can’t reciprocate his feelings. If things go bad in your relationship you dont want it to ruin your friendship with him. You love gojo but you can’t lose him just because you both decided to turn your friendship romantic.

With gojo still hitting your chest which was starting to sting a little (a lot.) you caught his wrists in both your hands before he could hit your chest again. He looked up at you. you could see the tears in his eyes and it made you soften a little bit.

Wrapping his arms around your neck, you leaned down and connected your lips onto his. Almost immediately he kissed you back. At first the kiss was slow and a bit romantical but then the kiss turned hot and steamy. Gojo pushed you in the chair that was conveniently placed behind you. You fell back with a “umph” and he crawled right ontop of your lap

“We can’t do it in here gojo” you said with a little panic in your voice because gojo is very vocal and these rooms are NOT soundproof. You started to adjust yourself so you could stand up but gojo pushed you into the chair with more force…you can’t even lie his aggressiveness was turning you on.

“I know you want me as bad as I want you” he whispered in your ear unbuttoning your shirt. All rationality left your head. Gojo kissed down your neck leaving marks on it like y’all both won’t get in trouble with your manager later. Gojo saw you not paying attention to him and pressed his palm on your crotch.

You winced and looked down at him. “Focus only on me” he spoke against your lips. You’ve had enough. You grabbed gojo by his ass and kissed him causing him to moan into your mouth. You grounded his ass onto your still clothed cock and moved on your hands to his hair. Pulling on his hair to separate you two you looked at his face flushed and his breath being hitched.

You giggled a bit “we’ve barely done anything and you’re already fucked up” gojo rolled his eyes and unzipped your pants. You were intrigued by what he was about to do so you just let him do whatever he was going to. He pulled out your semi hard dick and stroked it until it was fully erect, earning a little groan from you.

Gojo got up from your lap and pulled down his pants. He then took off his shirt and hopped right back onto your lap. Taking your dick in his hands before he lined it up with his hole. “W-wait! Don’t you need to be prepped” you stuttered out taken aback by his eager attitude. “No” is all he said as he sat on your dick and took it fully. “Holy fuck” you breathily let out, he was so tight and warm you could stay buried in him forever.

Gojo let out a moan as he started riding you slowly. You were sitting in the chair while gojo was sitting on your lap knees on the sides of your thighs riding you. “Speed up” you grunted out. Not wanting to disappoint gojo sped up thinking about how you gave that blue haired freak your number making him angrier.

All of a sudden gojo starts riding you like a fucking maniac. “F-fuck yes this dick is mine isn’t it” he said while rocking back and forth on your dick causing you to get a little vocal. “Fuck yes it’s yours. All yours baby” hearing that made gojo go feral. He placed his feet next to your thighs and started bouncing on your dick.

Infront you two was a mirror so you could see your entering and exiting Gojos hole and it was doing something to you. You could feel your release building up in your stomach and you could tell gojo was almost at his limit by the way he was shaking. Gojo grabbed the back of your neck and slammed his lips onto yours causing him to cum right on your stomach. Even though he came he kept bouncing because he wanted your seed in him..he needed it. “Come onn cum in meee. I wanna be bred” him saying he wants to be full of your cum sent you over the edge as you fill him up, watching as it leaks out of him in the mirror.

Gojo looks up at you seeing you panting, he smirks and chuckles. “who’s fucked up now?” No way in hell were you about to get bitched by gojo. You hopped off the chair with him on you still and placed him on the counter infront of you. You flipped him over so he was facing the mirror. “W-what’re you doing?” He spoke up “You wanted it right? It’s yours? So take it.”

You immediately entered gojo from the back causing him to let out a moan and grip onto whatever was in his line of vision. You gripped him by his waist and started thrusting into him. “A-AH FUCK PLEASE” you shushed him and reminded him that you two need to be quiet because again this room is NOT sound proof. “Shh baby we gotta be quiet” you said slivering your hand around his neck and fucking into him in that position.

“IM GONNA CUM PLEASE PLEASE GO HARDER” you lifted his leg and put it on your shoulder going harder than before causing the

Counter infront of y’all to shake. “Come on baby cum for me” you pulled his head up towards the mirror “look at yourself so pretty and fucked out. You look best like this.” You said and kissed him. He came with a loud moan his cum shooting on the mirror. It was quiet in the room for a few. Gojo catching his breath and you starting to clean up the cum on the mirror.

Both of you paused what you were doing when you heard a knock on the door. Gojo looked at you to answer it since he was obviously fucked out of his mind. “Who is it” “it’s nanami your manager” “oh shit” both you and gojo muttered at the same time.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Hi guys

Ts MIGHT be ass idk

Please request someone as a cam boy so I can go crazy 😽

Also sorry for not posting and posting late I’ve been in a slumpppp. Senior year of highschool is NOT for the weak.

HI COOKIE @xozombiee this one’s for youuu

#dom reader #top reader #bleh :p #seme male reader #sub jjk #sub character #dom male reader #jjk smut #sub gojo #sub gojo smut #for my biggest supporter ash

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Note

I've never asked anyone in my entire tumblr presence, I'm excited you'll be the first, even if it doesn't get done 🙏☆♡🥬

Anyways, I feel like there is a very sad amount of Soap content on here so like..idk maybe pining Soap fluff??

He's totally the type of guy to follow someone around like a lovesick puppy and everyone notices except the person of interest LOL

Congrats on the milestone btw!! You deserve it 😼😼

—Oblivious Pining

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

Everyone had seen it, and at this point, it had just become painful. The soft, gentle eyes—the instantaneous smile whenever your unit showed up, your form not for a second missed to those cobalt blues. The deepening color of his cheeks was another tell, along with how he would clear his throat whenever your eye caught his, quickly looking away as if a teenager sneaking glances at his crush.

Which was what precisely was happening, actually—minus the teenager part.

But the worst of it was that you had absolutely no clue.

Perhaps it was because you’d grown so used to his teasing attitude, or even his touches or his open expressions, but you, truly, hadn’t the faintest clue that those actions were Johnny’s way of saying he was interested in you. You went about your joint missions together, touching shoulders and smiling widely, and everyone was about ready to go right back to war just so the two of you could stop it with the puppy eyes already.

“I’m losing my mind,” Gaz utters, blinking in rapid succession at the two forms as they walk side by side across the tarmac. “I am absolutely losing my damn mind.” The exasperation can be taken and scooped with a spoon. The Sergeant gestures with his hand. “Are they bloody blind? Both of them?”

“Seems like it,” the Captain grunts, eyes narrowed and arms crossed as Soap’s hand comes up and ruffles your hair, you swat him away and playfully punch his shoulder. The Scot fake balks back in imaginary pain.

Price rubs a hand over his beard with a sigh as Ghost blankly stares from behind them, leaning back against the base’s walls. The Lieutenant breathes out, “Fuckin’ hell. Gonna be dead ‘fore these bastards figure it out.”

Your unit was sharing most of the same looks, rolling their eyes and placing bets once more on whether one of you would make a move. Across the way your face is comfortably heated, heart hammering and yearning for something more. Johnny thinks the same as he chuckles, one hand going to itch at the side of his head.

“Well, it was more than good to see you again, Dearie.” He says, and you huff a laugh. “There’s nothing better than watchin’ you work, eh?”

It’s a tease laced with truth, and you shift your feet, trying to hide the sudden flip of your intestines.

“Quit it, MacTavish,” your smile is infectious, and you send a glance at the setting sun before your smirk gradually grows. “In my opinion, you all hot and sweaty beats that out of the park.”

“Oh, aye,” the Scot cockily tilts his head, raising a brow as his stubble moves back. “Know it does.”

You chuff, head looking away in childish glee. “You’re impossible.”

“Ah,” he licks his lips, leaning back on his heels. “Don’t worry now, Little Lady, I’m all yours to figure out—I promise.” The flirting was a constant from both parties, and neither of you tired of it.

A small silence grew, and over the course of the last month or so, the pauses had become more and more frequent when the want to speak prevailed, but no one knew what exactly to say. You both blink at one another, noticing that you’ve both been staring heavily.

Johnny’s throat clears, and he licks his lips before quickly looking away; you awkwardly chuckle and decide that his vest is the most interesting thing in the world.

Both small teams want to bash their heads into a wall.

“I’ll be seeing you?” Johnny sighs softly, speaking as his accent grows deeper with thought. He wanted to scold himself for his cowardness but had no idea that you were doing the same.

“Of course,” you nod firmly. “I’m not as big of a fool to ignore my favorite Demolitions Expert.”

“You’re makin’ go all shy now, ya little beast,” Johnny levels, his cheeks gaining a reddish hue.

You spare a laugh, and that silence once more returns. He wants to tell you, but he’s not sure how, and that itself makes his body tense with indecision—tell you the truth, or live with his own hesitation on your answer. Spare the man, he was too blind to see how much you already adored him.

Blinking away, you clench your jaw and hold out your hand. “Until next time, Sergeant.”

Johnny smiles lightly, eyes going soft. There were so many things he’d accomplished in his life by running head-long into them; by barging down doors and thinking of an exit while his foot was already halfway outside. But this…this he didn’t mind taking his time with.

You were worth every second.

Johnny gently grasps your hand, squeezing it as he hums, lips twitching. The teams would have to wait in their annoyance for another day.

“Until next time, Dearie. Don’t be a stranger.”

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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

Text

don't even know, i'm talkin' nonsense

summary: on his way back from a patrol shift, your boss gets hit with a mystery quirk that affects his speech. you're the only one in the office who can help him (pro!bakugo x you).

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing cuz bakugo's here and he's angry, miscommunication-based comedy, idiot(s) in love, coworkers to lovers, a little bit of angst/comfort but it's just for the plot yk

note: i'm not sure where the concept of this came from; i was just listening to sabrina carpenter and was like,,,, hey i can use this. so have this! hope you like it :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Okay, go over it one more time for me. I think I’ve got it,” you reassure him, only to be met with a skeptical glare. “I’m serious; I think I understand it, even though it took forever.” You tap the whiteboard of the meeting room with the red marker in your hand, slightly tired from scribbling down as much as you could comprehend from your boss’ vague gestures. He exhales deeply, dragging a hand down his face, and gives you an impatient look. “Ready when you are."

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“I didn’t understand a word of what you just said,” you remind him and he shoots you a withering glare that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. “And don’t try to write it, since that clearly didn’t work.” You glance at the scribbled mess of letters scratched onto a yellow notepad of paper, Bakugo’s first attempt to communicate that something was off when speech was not working.

“I fucking know that! You don’t think I can’t remember that you have no idea what I’m fucking saying?” You blink at him, desperately biting your tongue to avoid bursting out laughing. Even though Bakugo had been hit with a quirk that was creating some very entertaining moments in an otherwise bland office job, he could still make his palms crackle dangerously in warning. “Remind me to fire you when I get out of this.” You can’t control your laughter that time and you let a snort slip from your throat, wincing when his scathing eyes stare menacingly into you.

“Sorry, I am so sorry,” you laugh quietly, attempting to subtly wipe a tear from your eye. “It’s just that…that time it was a dolphin.” You scrunch your face to avoid laughing again and try so hard that it makes your stomach hurt. Your boss continues to stand there, absolutely mortified, while you add another animal to the list of sounds that have come out of his mouth. Since he re-entered the office after a seemingly normal patrol shift, the noises of a bear, horse, mouse, tiger, monkey, a bird you couldn’t identify, and now a dolphin had exited his mouth in place of his scratchy voice. You thought it was a sneeze, the first time the bear roar had echoed through the office, but were equally perplexed when you asked him to sign a form and the only answer you received was high-pitched squeaking.

“There’s no fucking way,” he’d muttered under his breath when you first explained to him what you thought was happening. It became all too real as his face paled when you played what your phone recorded as his “voice,” which only came out as the insistent hoots of a monkey. He was used to receiving weird looks on the street, especially when civilians realized that they were walking next to one of the top Pros in the country, but it dawned on him that they may have not heard his usual voice when he barked at them to move. “And you’re the only one in the office right now?”

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” you inform him carefully. “But, if you’re wondering if anyone else is here to help you, there’s not.” You can only imagine what kind of colorful expletives he yelled by the unrelenting scream of bird noises that left his mouth. “And I was about to leave, so if you want me to stay and help–”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Oh, great. You’re a horse now,” you deadpan, understanding from his facial expressions alone what he was trying to communicate. “Well, if you don’t need my help, have fun explaining to the guys why you sound like you swallowed a zoo.” Your boss’ face turns bright red at the idea of showing up to dinner with his old classmates in his current state. He fires off a single, precise shot at the rubber door stop before you can exit the meeting room, effectively locking you in there with him until you sort out how to fix him. “So, you do want my help?” You turn to look at him with a knowingly innocent smirk, delighted to find him seething in place but reluctantly nodding. “What’s the magic word?” A single horse neigh echoes through the meeting room and you head to the whiteboard. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

You spent the next hour and a half playing a ridiculous game of charades with Bakugo after the alarming discovery that anything he tried to write would become illegible scribbles. You figured that it was just an effect of the Quirk itself, which seemed to give the user the ability to communicate with different animals without being understood by humans. If an eavesdropper managed to figure out what they were saying, the words would become unreadable on the page for further secrecy. Despite inconveniencing your boss and preventing you from leaving the office on time, it did serve as an important tool in the Quirk-stealing weapons trade you’d been investigating. The only issue now was to figure out where Bakugo was hit.

“So, you’re walking down 25th.” A nod. “And make a right on Pine?” His palm hits his forehead in frustration. “No, no, not right. A left, towards 24th.” Another nod. “And that-that alley, by the coffee shop with the good strawberry milk teas?” More aggressive nodding. “That’s where you got hit? With the dart?” He slams his hand on the desk, nodding furiously. You stare at him, slightly in disbelief as you pull out a rolling chair and slump into it. “How the hell did you get pulled into that alley?”

“Someone was screaming for help and I’m a hero so I go help them, I don’t fucking know.”

“Dolphin again,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. “But, really. You don’t ever go that route since it’s too out of the way from where your patrol ends. What were you doing on that side of town?” He pauses, his mouth drawn into a tight line and his eyebrows drawn as he searches for an explanation in his brain. Truth be told, he had no idea what possessed him to take that route back to the office. All he could recall were snapshots, little Polaroids of information that, if he pieced them together, made a relatively cohesive explanation. He’d snapped at you unfairly, a common snap of his temper, but the hurt on your face affected him more than he was willing to admit. Something bothered him about your tense expression and it continued to bother him when he was out of the office and kicking villains into the dirt. It seemed like instinct was the only reason why he headed in the direction of the cafe with the strawberry milk he knew you liked. “Well?”

He blinks at you once, twice, and then stands abruptly and swings open the door. You watch him through the room’s tall windows as he enters his private office briefly and exits with a cardboard drink holder. A minute later, a plastic cup with the taut seal unbroken is unceremoniously set in front of you, along with a large straw to suck up the extra strawberry bits he knew you always ordered.

“What is this?”

“What does it look like, idiot?”

“I know it looks like a drink, but why did you get it for me?” His eyes widen with the idea that you could understand him again, but you’re quick to shut him down. “And no, I can’t understand you yet. Right now, you’re a tiger.” You half expect him to launch the other drink, something brown sugar looking, at the wall; instead, he pulls out the chair next to you and stabs his straw into the plastic, gesturing for you to do the same. You obey hesitantly, eyeing him curiously as he avoids your questioning expression. “Thank you.” He huffs, something you’ve learned is the only response he gives to gratitude. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I hurt your fucking feelings, of course I needed to.” You’re staring at him again, you and your pretty eyes and kind smile and uncanny ability to withstand even his most fiery temper tantrums. He’d discovered his feelings for you months ago and it was like a speed bump was put in front of him every time you were near, always making him trip or say something stupid. Bakugo was never known to be good with his words or his feelings, but you made him feel so warm inside that he’d be a fool to deny what it was. “I guess it’s good that you can’t understand me right now because I can vent about how stupid you make me feel.” You hum, a fond glint catching in your eye.

“That’s a new one. You’re a chicken right now.” You laugh and he can feel his forehead get airy, like he’d chugged three sojus. What he felt was sweeter, though, without the bitter taste that always followed alcohol. To him, you were pure light.

“Makes sense, ‘cause I’m too much of a dumbass to tell you how much I care about you. Fuckin’ idiot.”

“You sure have a lot to say, boss. Go on and let me pretend I’m on a poultry farm.” You take another sip of your drink and close your eyes, appreciating his unexpected gift. “A much needed vacation, in my opinion.”

“There you go again with your stupid sarcasm and your stupid laugh. You’re insufferable, you know that? Always making me run around in circles because I don’t know what I’m fucking doing around you.” You raise your eyebrows melodramatically and nod at him slowly, still having no idea what he’s trying to communicate. “You’re lucky you’re pretty because if you were anyone else, I’d fucking deck them right now.” Your attention shoots to him but gives no indication that you comprehended what he just said, so he goes on. “I wanna take you out to dinner sometime, but I think I’m a little too proud to admit how much I like you. Fucking hell, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“Hey, boss?”

“The fuck do you want?”

“The Quirk wore off,” you breathe, in complete shock from what he just unknowingly confessed to you. You’d be less surprised if he’d told you that he murdered his way up to the top three. “You started speaking normally when you said,” you pause to try to slow your racing pulse in your ears, “that I was pretty.” You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye to find him bright red and mirroring your wide-eyed expression. “I guess the effects wore off pretty fast?”

“Yep,” he forces out. “Must have.”

“You really think I’m pretty?”

“It’s why I got you the fucking drink, stupid,” he mumbles, still examining the shiny wood of the table. “Didn’t want you to be sad.” An idea pops into your head and you shrug, leaning nonchalantly back into your chair. You can feel his eyes watching you, reading your body language.

“I know something that would make me less sad.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” You shrug and let the corner of your mouth turn up, brushing a stray blonde hair from his face. You didn’t think it was possible to turn such a deep shade of pink and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused by how miserable he looked.

“Take me out to dinner,” you reply, chuckling at the way his nostrils flare. “Repeat all the stuff you said while you were speaking zookeeper. Beside the love confession, of course. I understood that pretty well.”

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the office. “Next time I get you that strawberry milk, you’ll be there with me. Then we’ll both have that stupid quirk.”

“Mmm, great. We can both tell each other how much we like each other while speaking dolphin.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha fluff #bnha fluff

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mintys-playarea · 6 months

Text

RUGGIE B. W A DUNCE! PLAYING! LOVER!

You had no idea how you were able to get a man such as him to fall in love with you. He was clever, sweet, a great cook, and an absolute cutie... Ruggie was yours and you were his!

You had many flaws. You weren't very smart, you had tendencies to mess with people... The list could go on. Yet he still loved you.

It was a cool, autumn day. Warm colored leaves fell from trees, leaving the courtyard a blend of reds, browns and oranges. There were plenty students walking and talking happily along with one another, the smell of pumpkin spice wafting in the air. Though you were relatively uninterested before... A particular student has caught your eyes. It was none other than the Azul Ashengrotto walking around, promoting his most recent sale for the Mostro Lounge... This was the perfect opportunity.

The leaves crunched beneath your shoes as you tapped his leg, your icy cold hands sneaking up his pant leg and touching his warm calf. He shivered with a loud yelp, immediately turning around to find no one there. You were hiding behind a nearby tree. You weren't hidden well of course, but Azul couldn't see you. He shook his head, sighing and brushing it off as the wind. As he continued to promote the sale, you snuck up on him again. You tapped his leg the same way as before, except... You weren't fast enough this time. He kicked you and hoisted you up with stern eyes.

"Do you understand how disrespectful you are?!" Azul screeched. He clearly disliked getting his legs touched like that.

You sputtered trying to come up with an excuse, panicking as you see the Leech twins starting to come into view. You squirmed as Azul held still and started walking.

"Excuse me boys, but may you help hand out flyers for me as i return this rascal to their owner? They were very disrupting to me, we wouldn't want that happening with to another," Azul had a slight pout as he continued walking. He muttered something to himself quietly before going into the Savannaclaw mirror.

Leona sighed as he saw Azul waltz up to him. "And how am i responsible for the herbivore??" He said with a tired look.

"Well, aren't they always over here? I'd assume it's because they have something with you?" Azul responded, almost annoyed with the fact he had to speak with Leona.

"No... You'd have to find Ruggie. He's— Right here," Leona groaned before returning to his room.

"Oh, hey there Az! Whatcha doin' here? And why do ya got lovebug there?" Ruggie commented on you being carried by Azul like a critter he finds dirty.

"I found.. er.. Lovebug messing with me during my promotion for the new Mostro Lounge sale... So you're the one taking care of.. this thing?"

"Aye, they're person, you know! Not just a 'thing.' But yes, i am in charge of taking care of Lovebug."

"I'll just hand them over already... You should really keep a watch on them. They're probably going to cause a big problem if you dont." Azul shook his head before leaving Savannaclaw finally.

"So... Lovebug, what was that about?"

You pulled out a to-go box of fresh food. Food you stole from Azul. A goofy smile spread across your face.

"Ahh... I see! I've trained you well... You deserve a treat for that!" Ruggie smiled along with you, bringing you into the kitchen.

"I know ya may not be tha brightest sometimes, but you're a sneaky lil' thang fo'sho! Here, ya wanna help bake some cookies to go with that meal?"

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

TAGS!!: @cheezy-moon

A little note on how the tagging system works:

If I know you like a character and I end up writing for it, I'll tag you in it (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Also, I have no clue what to put for name replacements so... I'll just do pet names! :D also I wanted to keep this in second person, but I kept it gn when I had to use the pronouns (*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀*⁠)

I also forgot how the mirrors work (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) and I gave ruggie a special way of talking! I like writing him speak like that :3

#disney twst #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #twisted wonderland ruggie #ruggie x reader #ruggie x yuu #Twst #twst wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #Ruggie bucchi fluff #The main course ♡#savannaclaw #azul ashengrotto #azul twst #twisted wonderland azul #Tweels #octavinelle

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miragemurder · 5 months

Text

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Spotlight

Pairing: Veneer x GN Reader

Genre: Fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Oneshot/short story for all the Veneer lovers out there, since there are a few fanfics. ★ ★ ★

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lights, Camera, Action. Mount Rageous was a bustling city with many young and talented people alike. The city was mainly known for their famous singers as every road had a sign showing off the different types of music the place was made of. Bright colors everywhere as the overall vibe gave off an 80’s and 90’s type aesthetic. It honestly was overstimulating but most people didn’t mind.

You were out partying with one of your friends when you first heard about these overnight stars. They were the talk of the town, everyone knew them, besides you.

“Who?..”

“You’re telling me that you don’t know who the Velvet and Veneer are?”

“Let me guess, artists?” You sighed. Honestly you didn’t really care to keep track of the next upcoming popstars of the week. You just wanted to enjoy the music. Everyone here was so involved in everything it seemed almost tiring, and boring.

“Only the best artists ever! Have you heard their new single Watch Me Work? It’s absolutely amazing!” Your friend shrieked, obsessed with the new stars.

You shrugged and continued on with the rest of the party, joining in and dancing along to whatever was playing. You were having a good time until eventually it became tiring. You tapped on your friend’s shoulder signifying that you were gonna head to the bathroom but in all honesty, you just needed a break.

You headed to the left side of the club, back to where the bathrooms were. There were barely any people here surprisingly. You thought there would be more since, well it’s a club there’s probably some sort of shady shit happening. It was quite calm and you quietly thanked the lord. All the music and lights could be overstimulating. You were just about to head into the bathroom when you saw a hallway with a ramp a little far right to the bathrooms.

‘Hmm… wonder where that can lead to.” You thought. You shrugged it off and turned back around to go into the bathroom. You were just about to enter as you felt someone knock into your shoulder. You turned around confused, staring at who just bumped into you.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! Did I hurt you? These shoulder pads can be a bit… much.” The stranger stared at you, frantically apologizing and waving his hands around. You looked back with a wild expression. His hair was green and styled into a pompadour like mullet. He wore black pants that were oddly shaped and light pink shoes. His top was very extraordinarily as he had huge shoulder pads with a purple diamond on each side, and a smaller one on his chest.

“Oh no, you’re fine. I’m just surprised I didn’t see you there.” You laughed softly, watching his facial expression. He had a quizzical look on his face, like if you didn’t just realize who you were talking to.

“Heh.. yeah well honestly I don’t know why my sister picked this outfit, not my thing. Anyways, I got to get backstage, hope you’re enjoying the show.” He smiled and turned around, confidently strutting back out and heading up that weird hallway you were questioning earlier.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, questioning what just happened and why that guy was wearing such an outfit. You splashed your face with some water and closed your eyes, taking some time to relax before you went back out there. After a couple of minutes, you heard your phone buzz and quickly picked it up. It was a message from your friend.

“OMG! OMG! You have to hurry! Velvet and Veneer are gonna perform!” It read. You sighed, rolled your eyes, and put your phone back into your pocket.

You walked out of the bathroom and unwillingly went into the crowd of people. It was like the crowd got ten times louder, everyone excited to see the next performance. You groaned and continued to slide into the crowd, pushing around trying to get back to your friend.

“Hey I’m back, what’s going on?” You tapped your friends shoulder, making them aware of your presence.

“You made it just in time! Velvet and Veneer are gonna perform!” She squealed, holding onto your arm and jumping up and down. You pulled your arm back and nodded your head, not really caring about what your friend was talking about. Even if you didn’t care that much, you were still happy that she was happy.

The crowd quieted a little as the announcement over the speaker came on.

“Ladies and gentleman! Please welcome your stars of the show, Velvet and Veneer!”

Everyone started jumping up and down, dancing and overall going crazy. You watched as the two stars came out onto the stage when suddenly your stomach dropped. You recognized one of them.

Did you just accidentally meet Veneer?

You stood dazed and shocked while your friend was bouncing and cheering. They gave you a quick glance before they noticed your expression. Quickly, they stopped bouncing and came closer to your awkward self.

“Hey, are you alright?” They asked, putting a hand on your shoulder. They tried to comfort you but it was a little hard since the crowd of people were being pushed into you two.

“Yeah I just… remember when I went to the bathroom?” You glanced down then you turned your head to look up at them.

“Yeah of course, that was like fifteen minutes ago.” They laughed a little.

“Well, when I was waking in I kind of accidentally pumped into someone, and that someone may or may not have been.. Veneer.” You gave your friend an awkward smile, hoping that they would believe you accidentally just met a famous singer.

“Are you being serious? Like are you sure it was him?” Your friend questioned. They wanted to believe you but it sounded crazy. It’s very unlikely to accidentally walk into a celebrity.

“The guy had huge shoulder pads and green hair, I’m pretty sure it was him.” You tilted your head in a “duh” like manor. They gave you an amused look and then smiled.

“Well, what are we doing over here? We gotta get up close to see if he recognizes you!” They grabbed your hand and swiftly started pushing past people to get to the front of the stage. You were left shocked as you tried to pull your hand away from your friend’s monstrous grip.

“Wait I don’t think that’s a good idea-“ you yelled out, trying to get them to hear you.

“Of course it is! Come on!” They continued to push past the crowd of people until you guys got to the very front of the stage. You were terrified, your body was in a state of shock and panic as you watched the stars right above you. You watched as they performed their many songs, looking out into the crowd and waving at the audience.

You watched as Veneer looked down into the crowd, waving to people until he stopped and looked at you. His face faltered for a second before he got back into character. He smiled, waving at you until he did something a little unexpected.

He winked.

You felt like you just got set on fire, your face burning up to what felt like a thousand degrees. You gave him a shocked reaction, jaw dropped while you stood there motionless. He laughed and went back to looking at the rest of the crowd. You felt like you were gonna pass out.

——————————————————————————

A while after the whole party died down, you were in a corner of the club with your friend chilling and talking about random crap from your younger years. Most of the people left while some stayed with friends to drink and chat. It was almost time for the club to close before you saw someone walk out from backstage.

“Oh hey! It’s you!” Veneer walked up to you and your friend, a huge smile across his face.

“Oh my gosh we are such huge fans, can I have a picture!” Your friend cheered, bouncing up and down with their phone in hand.

“Why of course!” He laughed. Your friend brought up their phone and took what felt like five thousand photos.

“Thank you so much!” Your friend squealed. You tried to calm her down until you saw Veneer staring at you.

“So did you like the show? Was it worth it? Did I look good” He said that last part smugly, shrugging his shoulders with a smirk on his face. You giggled and nodded your head.

“It was really good! You guys did fantastic.” You smiled. You meet this guy a couple hours ago but it felt like love at first sight, as cringe as that may be.

“Well… I know I’m technically not allowed to do this but…” he held out a piece of paper with his name and number, you stared at it in shock.

“Here’s my number, if you ever wanna talk.” He looked up at you and gave you a kind-hearted smile. You nodded and thanked him.

“Well, would you look at the time! I must get going before Velvet kills me!” He laughed, slightly worried.

“No literally, she might actually kill me. Anyways it was nice meeting you…?” He paused, giving you a questioning look.

“[______]” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Ah [_____], it was nice meeting you!” He smiled as he walked off giving you a ‘call me’ sign with his fingers. You laughed and turned back to your friend.

“I cannot believe that just happened! Oh my god congrats!” They yelled while squishing you in a huge bear hug. You hugged them back, laughing and spinning around with them like you just won the lottery.

You’ll definitely be calling him later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this oneshot/short story I made. It was barely revised and I don’t really have a lot of experience so I hope it was decent lol (He’s a little out of character.) It was quite fun and I hope to write more in the future! Leave requests in the comments!

Part 2: Secret

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#trolls #trolls band together #veneer x reader #velvet and veneer #veneer trolls #fanfic #gn reader #veneer #veneer trolls x Reader #oneshot #short story

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starrbright · 4 months

Text

Carnality in Adoration

“I want to swallow you, have you melt into me and flow through my veins." The Vegetarian, Han Kang

Everything he feels seeping in. Surfacing from the depths of the beginning. It's heavy. Deeper than he thought he could have carried in such a short time. It's terrifying. He welcomes it freely.

Miya Osamu x Reader

Illustrations: Stephan Sinding, Adoration Max Švabinský

I've yet to read 'the vegetarian', but I am aware that the novel is quite horrific as others have said. And using the passage would be out of context, but I couldn't help it, when I saw that words while having this piece in my drafts, I knew i just had to do it.

Nearing 6k words. characters are in their late twenties. established relationship. fluff. smut.

all my y/n are fat and of color.

september 24, 2023, I began this and had to shelf it. And now December 19, I'm finally fucking done😭 spent a little lot of time in a coffee shop today just so to finish this and here it fucking is😭 had three black coffees and am so worn out and shaking. I'm so tired, you guys TT. Been so busy nonstop and I just had to fucking suck it up and finish this one, I hope you like it. A little treat for the holidays. Enjoy and take care!! 💐💌

@iwaberry, @mood-romantica, & @shaisuki my lovelies💘

God. Gods. Angels. Saints. To Osamu, he's unsure if he believes in them. Maybe he does. Maybe.

He's not religious, you've found him to be. But these days, he's making you question so.

Few days of being truly together. Blissful kisses. Sex here and there. He cares for you truly, you know and feel this. He feels for you. You never doubted him the very first moment he made himself known in your life.

From the ardor in his eyes that you saw by how entranced he was looking at you the first time you felt he felt for you. From how firmly but tenderly he always hold your hand to fall his lips on your knuckles before anything else. From the way his eyes closes as he does so, or even more so how he hold his gaze to you when he does it.

From how tired he is at the end of his work, he still makes you a fresh batch of your favorites before you see each other at the end of the day or night. From how you can see the light in his gray eyes whenever you happily eat his food.

You never doubted him, not even when he has yet to say those three delcaring words. He has already uttered such loving words to reflect it. Always. You never doubted him.

And how could you ever ever doubt him--as he has his big hand on your neck, his fingers grasping up until on your plump cheek to take your lips for his own. Drinking the wetness of your mouth to your sounds as he moves his lips and tongue against your own in a way that always has your chest heaving while he doesn't seem to be affected at all as he only hums deeply as calmy--a stark contrast to your soft whimpers, despite the hardness of his erection on your behind.

His big and strong hand holds the round of your stomach against the fabric of your top, him having you from behind is always a delight to him; all the fat and softness of what you have melts onto him, a welcome to the edges he has. A home he's found that he always enclosed with open arms.

A deep breath you let out from your mouth when he finally pulls away, mouths dripping with drools. Osamu takes his breath back by burying his face on your neck, nose and wet lips pressed so against on you, his air so hot on your skin. Hearts thundering against one another.

Finding your voice, before it further unfolds to resulting taking too much time. "We should go now." You say, a little breathy. It fell nothing to his ears.

What didn't fall nothing to your ears is a deep hum that contracted in his throat as his hand squeezed some of your fat on your belly. "Samu." You breathe. Both of you knowing what that all means. But it's always nothing to him. Yet you always still try. A game between you two. Almost.

His mouth begins to move, lips dragging greedily on your skin, the sweetness of what you routinely used melts in his palate. It fuels his need to taste you more, the very taste of you, always.

A hand of his on your neck goes wrapping around your throat firmly, fingers pressing down that your breath hitched as his mouth slides down to your shoulder. Having worn an off-shoulder top gave him access to all what he's doing right now. And you know you wouldn't be wearing clothes that shows skin as whenever this happens, you're always marked. He can't help it. He doesn't want to. To see all what he leaves on you always pleases him. A reminder you're his.

Osamu bites down on the supple flesh all over, wanting to feel the warmth and goodness of your fat in his mouth, inhaling and swallowing each bite, grunts and groans leaving him. He squeezes your throat and breast at the same time, resulting a strained whimper from you, the tightness of his hold on your throat contracts in you, heavy pain of pleasure there to going down your cunt.

"Stay still." He murmurs deeply in between the ministrations of his mouth on you as he squeezed your throat and breast again. It isn't a question nor plea. A command.

It has your cunt fluttering the same of your heart.

Pants of breath, slowly, you calmed your slight squirming against behind him, your right hand that was on his nape never leaves there holding onto him as lifeline. His arm around you that still holds your breast tightly began to squeeze you to him. His cock that was hardened the moment his lips met yours, tight against his pants, pressing on your ass twitching. Your short and tight skirt riding up higher, showing your cheeks, prettily hugged in your white stockings and black panties. "What you do to me." His dripping mouth now on your ear, low and breathy resonates through you, your body shuddering with a whimper once more. "Every. damn. time." He groans each hard hump he made on your ass-friction against his clothed cock and your thinly covered ass, so hot and strained.

His hand stays restraining your throat as the other slowly comes down between your thighs, squeezing you there before slipping his hand in and cupped your mound. Your body flinching slightly with a soft gasp leaving you. His face heavy on your cheek, minty breath reaching your nose and mouth. "Open your legs." A moan escapes you as he speaks, his demands always has you uttering sounds, whether it's the futile denial or meek obedience. At times like this, it's always both.

Your skirt rides up even higher as you opened your legs more, muscles in your limbs beginning to twitch as his palm stays cupping you. Two of his fingers pressing hardly on your cunt against your stockings and panty as he rubs you, wiggling them to squish in your folds, your clit being found and assaulted then. Your wetness spreading and seeps through. "Samu." You moan, your head lazily leaning on him, eyes turning heavy, nails lightly digging on the skin of his nape.

"Need me?" He asks as his tongue slides to the corner of your mouth, dragging that damn muscle to your cheek until to your ear, his saliva painting your skin--already knowing your answer. His digits being drenched by your slick the more he rubs your cunt. He just can't get enough of you. He never could.

"We need to go." It just pleases him more whenever you deny him, well, at least you try to.

And it always fails. ''Wrong answer." But it's the right one for him to keep going. It always is. It just makes his endeavors more pleasurable than it already is.

Just how could you doubt him when he now kneels behind you, his face etched on the back of your thighs, fingers gripping them tightly between your inner thighs. Nuzzling on your fat flesh all over. His eyes drinking in the above him, ass cheeks tight on your black panties against your stockings. He'd tear your stockings if he could and he could, easily so by just his teeth but he doesn't want to piss you off (he does, as always) he just knows you love the outfit you're wearing and he can't have his beloved sad at him. So he makes do with trailing soft kisses on you, his drool leaving of its little marks. Inching up his face by nuzzling on you again. Up, up, up until it reached your ass, nuzzling his face once more.

You have no choice but to stand the there and let him. His lips you feel, his hot breath, the littlest drop of his drools seeping in the thin material. Your hand finding its way to his hair, lightly gripping it as his own two grips your cheeks, spreading them apart. A gasp left you, "Samu-" Your cunt was suddenly licked, hard, tongue wide flat and dragged it slow until to the slit of your ass. Your slick thick on his tongue and he swallows with a guttural grunt, savoring what he can have for now. "How do you expect me to stop when you're fucking dripping."

His damn head buried beneath your ass, panties and stockings just tightly hang low under his chin—as he devoured your cunt from behind, still standing in your heels, no less.

Not a single drop was wasted. Limbs trembling and all as he still held a tight grip on you while he eases your high. His hands so gentle then as he put back on your clothes below you.

Suffice to say, your man was satisfied enough to let both yourselves go out already. And he was more than satisfied. Smug as hell as you sit besides each other along with his parents for a dinner, with his twin, no less—that you have no doubt the said bastard had a feeling something happened between you two before going to their family home. Atsumu can see it in Osamu's eyes after all, something like this is not new.

The lingering taste of your cunt still there in his mouth.

He's a man of unquenchable thirst.

And of selfishness.

You never miss the glint of immediate displeasure in his eyes when someone takes notice of you long enough for him to catch them. And certainly not when his arm secures around you more, and how could anyone miss the moment of him holding your face up to land a firm and long kiss on your mouth.

He's a man.

What can he do when someone is staring at you like he isn't there? And he does it proudly if not even pissed off. He just can't help it, really, even to your friends or closest ones. Seeing them near you, when he's with you, before you could free yourself from his grasp to greet them, his fingers twitch, his hold suddenly tightening—knowing you always greet them with a hug or a kiss on the cheek. It's nothing, but he can't help it.

And he couldn't help but be filled with that selfishness when you told him such a thing; that you'll visit your friend to another country, by yourself, no less. Even if it's only for a day. It filled him with dread.

But still, he allowed you, reluctantly so. You know he didn't want you to go, so you didn't. You didn't want to ruin your short trip while thinking of your man with the state you're both in.

Arguments, it rarely happens. That one wouldn't even count as one. A lesser misunderstanding. Jealousy. That much you already know of Osamu anyway. There's times when you almost feel giddy at his blatant displays of jealousy, but suppose the opposite to it is normal as well--just like right now.

As you sit alone on the floor of your apartment, while you paint, the night young--your heart heavy. And it skipped when you heard the door opened, those familiar heavy footsteps coming close.

As much as you wanted comfort, you weren't ready to see your man again. However, he is. As surprised as he was you were in your home....you didn't go—only then he realized, he messed up.

Osamu sighs as he walks in the living room, seeing your form there, quiet and unmoving but just the strokes of your paint brush, his steps grew light with each of it he takes as his heart sinks more.

There, he sits behind you, his arms immediately but gently as ever wraps around your stomach, hearing the soft hitching of your breath as he enclosed himself behind you, falling his face on your neck.

Your hand stops moving along the canvas, the paint brush just softly dangling between your fingers as you blankly stare at the colorful frame. His weight heavy on you as he holds you tight, yet your heart begins to unburden itself. You breathe, easing yourself as you feel the blues let go from you by his comfort. Gently laying your left hand on his arm and he let out a deep breath, holding you even tighter but so at ease. His breathing hot on your skin, the beating of his heart calm but deep and strong against your back. Silence remains as the long seconds passes by.

Osamu can be a man of words, he's not afraid nor hesitant to say what he thinks or what he truly means, but in this moment, he knows there's nothing needed to be said more than—"I'm sorry." His voice in a deep murmur.

Your head tuts aside gently, the blankness of your gaze melting soft as your hand on his arm then begins to merely caress him there. "I know." Is what you only say.

Osamu breathes out a hum deeply as he nuzzles his face on your neck, inching himself up to your chin to the side of your face, inhaling you. It's only been a mere day and yet he misses you so much. His heart begins to race despite the calmness of the moment, it never failed to do so whenever he holds you, but maybe an exception tonight as knowing his mistake was gracefully forgiven. Nevertheless, it took him a few more push for him to say his remaining gnawing thoughts. Fingers pressing on your stomach, his mouth beginning to caress your cheek. "Thank you for not going. And I'm sorry because of it." He tells softly in between in the trailing of his lips on you.

Your lips could almost smile but it didn't as they remain as calm, nonetheless, your eyes melt more and more to its fondness for him. Again, "I know." Is what you only say. Gently, your head falls to his own as he then stops kissing you to lean and nuzzle his head onto your own. Your caressing hand on him never stops, eyes closed and hearts near to beating the same way as silence made itself known again.

All that burdens you both fades into something more to be easily carried despite its heaviness.

Osamu speaks then, as softly, "Can you turn around?"

You did so, and now you face each other close while still sitting on the floor. His hands finding your own as he never breaks gaze with you, drinking you in at last once again. How he missed you, the amount of time to him is nonexistent.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

How deep his eyes for you always threaten you to look away, but you never do; seeing what you think you are, the parts of you that gnaws you--afraid of you to see that in his very eyes. And he does. He has before. And always will. Before you could turn your eyes away from him, you see the adoration in them, just as the first time you saw them in him, for you.

"I am now." You answer, your voice just as soft.

"When will you go again?" He asks once more.

Your gazes remains held, you couldn't bear to look away. "Maybe soon." You answer simply and he nods. Before he let go of your one hand, trailing it up to your neck so as to pull you closer for him to press a kiss on your forehead.

"Ya better bring home lots of souvenirs," he remarks, his face still close to you. You only laugh so breathlessly against his cheek and he smiles, his cheek rising against your mouth, few tears falling from your eyes and rolls down on him. His smile doesn't falter nonetheless. Happy you were both. "I missed you."

"'ve missed ya, too." He spoke clearly, before he pulls away lightly to take a look at you again. You gaze at each other once more, letting go of your held hands so as for him to cradle your face in his hands. His thumbs gently wiping your tears away.

He'll make it up to you. He doesn't need to say it because he will.

Your eyes stays as glazed while his own as calm and of that lazy look. The roughness of his hands sculpts against your tears stained chubby cheeks.

He doesn't know who to thank for such a blessing. To have a beloved gaze upon you like the way you give your eyes to him. But there you are anyways. So he figures, it's only you to thank for.

"Beautiful." Osamu spoke. It took a lot from you to not tear off your face from his grasp, let alone his boring gaze.

"Don't." You try. Of course, yet again, he didn't listen.

"Lovely." As a thumb of his softly glides on your lips.

"Stop."

"Pretty."

He strips you off with only his eyes, washing your doubts you didn't even know that was there. "Osamu."

"Mine." He murmurs as his thumb slides in your mouth, dragging it down gently on your teeth up front open, reaching until it presses on your tongue. Your mouth agape by the finger, your gaze close to turning little, your breath hitching. "Pretty." He breathes, his head tilting as his eyes never parts from you—sliding his thumb even further, "Like this." The smallest of whimper escaping you and you saw how his jaw clenched at that, a rough breathing sound following from his throat.

The view before him is new. Good. Saliva begins to gather more in your mouth, he feels and sees. He'd want to see you like that more often, satisfying to his eyes, a good way to keep his fingers warm as well. He keeps his finger pressing there, only staring at you, staring at how your drool pools more in your cavern, little drops of it escaping from your lips, rolling down to your chin.

Yeah, he'll really want to see and have you more the way he is doing right now.

And you can't deny the goodness of the slow moment you both are having. How you let yourself be gazed upon in such a way.

While Osamu's heart begins to waver of that steady rhythm the longer he made you remain in the state you're in. Everything he feels seeping in. Surfacing from the depths of the beginning of you both. It's heavy. Deeper than he thought he could have carried in such a short time.

It's terrifying. He welcomes it freely.

Slowly, he retracts his thumb, a thin line of saliva following and a sheet of it covers his finger as he lays it on just your chin--before he kisses you.

Slow and gentle. His first kiss of the day he takes, the first kiss you share after you both made up, the first kiss you share with the revelation found in him--unbeknownst to you. Osamu kisses you as if it was his last to be. He gives and holds his kiss deeply, lasting. A way to be heard of his specifically unspoken words for now.

However, you remain to be blissfully unaware of it; seeing this of nothing new as it's normal for you for him to be like that--and he knows. So it wouldn't be too long for him change that.

As you pull away, a little breathless, blinking the fluster away in your eyes. "I should fix this up and prepare for dinner." You said. Reluctantly but he doesn't let you feel it, he lets you free yourself from his arms as you stand up. Osamu keeps his eyes on you gather the art materials you've used.

As much as he would always praise what you create, as much as he'd always think it to be beautiful of whatever you make--the art is already before his eyes, not on the frame.

He does what he does whenever he takes you in, how an admirer would be in art gallery. Quiet. Intent. Deep.

Flesh rippling with every little move you make. Your round upper body snuggled well by your little top, breasts hanging free against the fabric, as well as showing a little of the fat of your tummy. Your bloomers too short and tight on you. A wonder for him. Your ever wide thighs. Dent and marks painted on your skin. Along that, he sees what his mouth and fingers left on you from before a few days. Even more beautiful with what he marks on you. He'll always prefer you to be marked by him.

"If you're done staring at me." Your voice breaks him out of his trance.

"I won't ever be." He replies simply.

A little laugh you echo at that while you walk back to him, now standing in front of him as he remains sitting there with his legs crossed on the floor.

You above him is divine to be. Maybe he's religious as he wonders so. At least when he gazes up at you while you look down upon him. A goddess of his.

Both of your hands comes to one another on your bodies; yours on his hair and face, while his on your legs. You'd be lying to yourself if you say you didn't like it when he's beneath you. At times like this, is where you question where he lies on higher beliefs--because the way he offers his eyes to you.....could be described as when one worships their divine being.

Osamu sees the little rose of your chest with your mouth parting ever so slightly, the gentle wonder in your eyes. He can't get enough of it.

Finding your voice, "What do you wanna have for dinner?" You asked, gently petting his hair and caressed his cheek.

A deep but short breath he took as he welcomes your doting on him. His fingers firmly caressing on your legs, slowly working their way up. "You know the answer to that." You wonder why you still asked.

You didn't roll your eyes instead you narrowed them, "I'm serious." It was hard to be as his hands crept up higher, reaching to your thighs, tingling sensations coming through.

He almost smiled. "So am I."

"You're so annoying." You sighed, raking your fingers through his hair. Such happiness in the little moment you both have.

Such happiness.

Maybe it was time.

"Osamu—"

"I love you."

Your voices met one another, his just with more.......conviction. You faltered. He didn't. He doesn't. He remains steeled just of his resolve.

The soft disbelief on you. You didn't know if you ever hoped for him to say it sooner, there wasn't anything bad if he didn't say it for the mean time either, but--the joy that blooms in you couldn't be brighter. Such simple words, how heavy it tolls on you.

Your hands gently cupped his face, still as silent you were, the words you were about to say now lost. Osamu nestles his head on your palms, never breaking gaze. He feeds off the awe you uncontrollably portray. He'll do anything so as to have you keep doing that only for him. The way your nose takes a breath, going from your mouth with your chest following as it rise, your voice remaining unfound. It's addicting to see those little things. and it's freeing to say those words, so he says it again. "I love you."

Heavily dazed but ever awake, your eyes never dare to blink, tears starting to sting, the walls of your throat threatening to crumble.

Osamu feels every little twitch. Feels it all. He wants more. He stays nestling his head on your palms, keeping his smile at bay with his unfazed look. "I love you." His voice now bright.

An ask to be answered.

Your tears fell, blinking slowly as you broke from your trance with a broken smile and breathless laughter. You cradle his face so lovingly as he held you the same. His arms tightly hugging your legs, hands gripping your thighs. Loved. And there your answer for him. with little more breaths, carrying the weight of all what you feel--"I love you." Voice almost to nothing from how breathless it was, nevertheless it graces his ears, finally letting his smile move on his lips.

"Again." It's sweet. Too sweet how you ever so slowly lit up as he said that.

"I love you." He can't stop himself from smiling more as you repeat them, his cheeks growing in your palms. Too rare. A smile of his that makes your heart hurt every time. Lips etched up lazily, little of his teeth showing.

"Again."

"I love you."

At the same time again.

You didn't think that his smile couldn't get bigger but it did. It's brighter than you ever seen before from him.

While he stays high in your gaze.

"I love you."

He now kneels, never tearing off his hold on you nor of his eyes. Osamu finds that there is glory in kneeling. And if there's anything Osamu loves more than food, it's winning. So he reigns in victory as he kneels before you.

So you let him have what he wants—his dinner.

Letting go of his face, he gently dives down on your legs, falling his lips there all over. "I love you," he murmurs with each breath he takes on your skin. "I love you." His hands squeezes your thighs repeatedly while your keeps caressing his hair. "I love you." His eyes began to flutter heavily, never stopping of working his mouth on you, dizzying himself by you. "I love you." He groans, his voice dragging deeply as he drags his face all over your flesh.

You could only look down at him as he tranced himself, look at him so fondly as he indulges himself, seeing him deeply enjoying of what he does—you let yourself feel all what you've been feeling since the moment he held you. Heat brewing in your belly, melting down into your cunt, slicking through your folds, soaking a little sticky patch in your panties.

It wouldn't be too long for him to feast upon it.

And he knows. Osamu already knew your body was working even before he began, his meal prepared for him. "Fuck, I love you." In a loud groan, he breathes as he pressed his face on your thigh again, firmly rubbing his cheeks there. His hands holding onto the back of your thighs goes up ever slowly to your ass--a deep hitch of breath you inhale. He slides in through your shorts and panties, fingers strongly massaging your ass cheeks, while he keeps making a mess down on you.

"Fuckin' love yer thighs so much," he swore, his voice gone rougher from his never ending groans that he moans. Although that much has been known between you both he never gets used to it, nor do you. Not when he relishes his teeth on your fat with each bite. It's almost no different from a beast breaking its fangs through its prey to feed.

His sheer thirst he strongly satiate has your cunt aching so much, but still, you let him enjoy more a little longer. Keeping in your plea with your breathy sounds of elation. And despite how deep Osamu is in indulging himself, he knows your needs, though that's in the back of his mind for now--eyes dead set on the abundant offering for him. The last feast he'll have for later.

A mistake of thought you had.

For now, he continues to worship your thighs. Thick trails of his saliva from strings to drops dribbling down. No territory left unexplored as he takes the back of your limbs as well. Your hands in his hair keeps on shaking, your lower body twitching, trying not to flinch away from him.

Even then, he only continues to repeat what he's been doing. Nuzzling and rubbing his face all over so harshly, inhaling roughly while he licks his tongue with each move. His groping hands on your ass not stopping as well. He's too much all at once. Standing again, no less.

If not for Osamu's strength, you would have been long lying on the floor. Still, he continues for more, your wordless whines for him to stop unheard, muted by his own hungry sounds.

By now you're a leaking mess, not of just your pussy completely soaked, but your limbs covered with sheet of sweat along with his drool everywhere. Even his face you see and feel that it's wet, of course, he couldn't care less. The flesh of your ass sore, thighs and legs all marked up, muscles already hurting.

In the short time of you and him being together, he was never this....eager, much more eager, that is. And he's only beginning. No mistake this time, you could already tell that when he actually begin you'll lose your damn mind--and you're about to.

As when you managed to pry off his face away from your thighs, your palms on his cheek again, looking at him. His hair so disheveled, pupils blown yet his eyes more droopy than usual, while he breathes so deeply and rough from his mouth, all over his face drips of his drool, his sweat and your own.

"My darling." You utter so breathily, a thumb of yours gently gliding on his chin to his lips, smearing the wetness on him there even more. So much for calming him down. If anything, he's getting worse. He's a babbling mess and when he's like that, there's no fight against it.

"Can I eat ya, angel?" He says as he keeps licking your thumb. The man has you gulping and breathing in the same state of his hunger with your awe to his needs. His want. "Please, sweetheart--need to have yer pussy s'bad. Can I, angel?" His eyes darted from your own to your cunt so close to his face.

Your breath and spit caught in your throat--you nod once. "Yeah, baby?" Your damn poor heart so tired from its jumping because of him.

He's already back at it. Kissing your thighs again before slowly pulling down your shorts--leaving you only in your panties, showing how damp your center is. "Fuck." He breathes in a rough groan as he beholds your mess.

"Only for me--"

"Always." Your voice managed to murmur amidst.

His gaze shooting up to you, as deeply. "I love you." He declared once again before he finally goes to his feast.

Never having yourself prepared for it.

Osamu's face buried up against your cunt, inhaling you so deep from his nose to his mouth, little slicks of your arousal he begins to taste, his soaked mouth wetting you more, eyes rolling back to his head. With your fingers immediately grasping on his hair, tightly pulling on it with a loud gasp flying out of you. Ever sensitive you are, and Osamu already so familiar with your body. Feeling how your clit twitches so slightly like a bunny's tail as his lips confines your cunt, his tongue stroking you so slowly, gathering his spit and your juices—before he gulps it eagerly deep.

"You've no idea how good you are for me." He says once he pulls away from you. He's a fucking dog. Heaving for breaths, it'd be no different if his mouth was foaming.

You have no response from that but could only look at him, already overwhelmed from his little start and yet wanting so much more. It goes by unsaid.

Samu's one hand goes to your panty, grasping around in the center and pulled the cloth up tightly, the line slitting through your folds and shows your hair painted of your wetness there. His teeth finding his lip as he does so, your clit and hole fluttering from the small but impactful tease. "Samu..." You whined, almost.

Not minding it, not caring from how you're gripping his hair, "So fucking pretty." He murmurs as he toys with your damn cunt by pulling on your panty continously. You'd gape at him for how almost ridiculous what he was doing if not of you finding it so good to see, let alone feel.

Your calls of his name just slipping out of his ears, continuing what he does. "Look at you." Barely a whisper from him as he let go of your panty, now laying his thumb on your slit to your clit, rubbing it against the wet fabric. You hissed a breath, bearing his not so tease, knowing how he can be just so entranced with what he does. "Fuck." He curses again while he keeps the pad of his digit rubbing hard on your cunt, before eyeing at the string of your slick from your mound to his thumb as he slowly stops.

Finally, your body eases in his hold, already worn out. "Shit--shit." You whisper to yourself, from your weakened state and knowing what was to come next.

You liked him below you as he praises you, yes, but you couldn't deny that were was so much struggle with his found liking for the specific position; having to bear the tiredness off yourself along with so much pleasure to it. Especially by how he was far into it. Your little hole parted open by two of his fingers as his tongue glides in halfway through your walls, while his lips suckles on your folds sloppily.

Osamu finds himself swimming in the ocean without a care for time, nor of anything, not even of your sounds of ache to come to finally be done, let alone how much you've been trembling in his hold. There's just so much to revel in his love for you through his worship. Such a thing should never be rushed just for the sake of satisfaction. He intends to grasp and freeze this bliss, for you to always have him engraved in the very depths of your being.

With hooded eyes, he looks up at you and sees how much of a mess you are. Still, he only remains the same of his slow but hard pace, only making the knot of your release just boiling as he keeps his tight hold on you, not even letting you move against nor away from him. But, seeing your continously flowing tears and hearing your endless whines, is very much of a reward for him anew. So, "Grind on me."

And that was all that it fucking took for you to finally break. Lost in your tiredness and ache for relief; you do what he said--grind on his damn mouth. Letting yourself use him so desperately, the way he wants you to. Your fingers have never let go of his hair from the start, pulling on it so much repeatedly while you move your hips and have your cunt drag hard on him.

He flows against your rapid waves easily, at last meeting your desperation by his unwavering conviction. No uncharted waters could prevent him from taking up eternity with you.

With enough time, from all he's doing and yours, you finally found yourself dropping to the highest edge of pleasure.

In a sea of one could suffocate—Osamu has never breathed so freely.

No, you could never indeed doubt him.

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suzukiblu · 5 months

Text

Day seventeen of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

“I think it's pretty normal to give someone a phone when you want to talk to them,” Tim lies. Bruce gives the other Bats burners sometimes, though. And also communicators. And Robin’s loaned plenty of allies communicators before, including Superboy. So it's normal in their circles, whether Kon actually knows they're both in said circles or not.

“. . . I like the green one,” Kon says after a moment, which is a little bit of a surprise. It's a nice sort of deep, leafy color, Tim guesses, but he would've expected Kon to go for black or red or blue; maybe yellow.

He wonders how green Hawaii is, come to think of it.

And how much green Kon regularly sees these days, living underground in a lab.

“Okay,” he says, then gestures towards the phone case display with his smoothie. “Let's get you a screen protector and a case too, just in case.”

“You don’t have to,” Kon says. “I mean, I am gonna have my TTK on it.”

“Yeah, but that only works if nobody knocks it off the table or something when you’re not holding it,” Tim says. “Besides, better safe than sorry, right?”

“Um, okay,” Kon says. Tim leads him over to the phone cases, and Kon glances them over indecisively, clearly paying more attention to the price tags than personal preference. Tim decides distraction is the better part of valor, in this case.

“I don’t recommend anything superhero-themed, for the record,” he jokes. Kon snorts.

“That’s called a feint, thank you very much,” he informs him mock-primly. “Nobody’d think a superhero would actually have the balls to go around with a superhero-themed phone case.”

“They’d think Superboy would,” Tim says in amusement.

“. . . okay, fair,” Kon allows, making a face at himself. Tim laughs.

“How about that one?” he suggests, pointing towards the second-most expensive one on the rack–so Kon will know money isn’t a concern, but also so Kon won’t realize he’s specifically doing it to make sure he knows money isn’t a concern.

“It looks like a tire tread,” Kon says wryly, which is a fair assessment. It’s one of the heavy-duty cases, so it’s pretty bulky as it is, and the pattern on it is a little tire-like.

“The ones down here have glitter, if that’s more your thing,” Tim replies in amusement, pointing again.

“Glitter is more my thing,” Kon says, leaning over to peer down at the indicated row. Tim probably should’ve expected that response, considering, except also he would absolutely never have expected Kon to willingly admit to liking glitter. At least not without being concussed first. “Hmmmmm.”

“That's a nice one,” Tim says. Kon’s looking at a green and blue case with bright gold glitter swirled all over it in abstract designs; it looks a bit like ocean water, if you look at it the right way. It’s definitely not going to be anywhere near as durable as the tire tread one would, but Tim isn’t particularly concerned about that anyway. He was gonna get accident insurance no matter what. Statistically speaking, Kon will probably go through more than a few of these. He hasn't had the same phone for longer than three months since starting up as Robin. Something always seems to happen to them. Usually a supervillain.

“Too bad they don’t have anything with a cute little goat on it,” Kon jokes as he straightens back up, regrettably letting go of Tim's hand to take the green and blue glitter-case off the wall. “You know, commemorate our first date and all.”

“That was not our first date,” Tim says, mildly disgruntled but mostly flustered by the idea. “I'd have planned a date a lot better than those morons planned their dumb heist. And bought you something from the gift shop, if nothing else.”

“Could've just kept the goat, I guess, but Superman would've made me give it back anyway,” Kon muses idly as he looks over the case in his hand and takes another sip of his smoothie. “This is for the right model, right?”

“Should be,” Tim says, though he double-checks anyway. “Yeah, no, you're good. Lemme go grab a clerk so we can get the plan set up. We'll just go through my name, I can probably set up autopay for the bill easier that way.”

“Um, sure,” Kon says, biting his lip for a moment and then glancing sidelong at him. “So is this our first date, then?”

“No,” Tim says, though technically it probably is. But given how Kon’s been acting about the idea that Tim would actually be interested in dedicating actual time and attention to him–“I'll take you somewhere nice for that.”

“Somewhere nice?” Kon says, hiding a very unsubtle grin behind the phone case. It'd work better if his stupid pretty eyes weren't sparkling for it, Tim thinks in resigned accusation. Kon doesn’t ask what “somewhere nice” means, but Tim is already trying to figure out what restaurants he knows that might appeal to Kon’s palate. If he likes Hawaiian flavors . . . there’s some Asian influence in that, right? He thinks, anyway. Japanese, at least. Maybe Filipino? Polynesian? Any other influences or parallel cuisines he’d have to look up to figure out, though.

Tim knows absolutely no Filipino or Polynesian restaurants, much less actually authentic Hawaiian ones. He could definitely do Japanese, though. Japanese would be easy. Just going to a restaurant isn’t much of a date, probably, and he can’t take Kon on patrol or anything like he and Steph used to do, but they could maybe go shopping in a nicer boutique or something? Or go to a museum for actual entertainment instead of just business, if Kon would be interested in something like that. Admittedly, it’s hard to picture him being particularly into museums as a concept, but it might be worth a try.

Maybe he’d like the aquarium or planetarium more than something involving art or history or science, though. Those are a little cooler than just wandering through a bunch of random exhibits, Tim thinks. Or at least, they might appeal more to Kon. The ocean, or stars and planets, or . . . like, whatever, he guesses.

He’ll have to do some recon, probably. Light interrogation. Figure out what Kon would be the most interested in.

Or they could just go to the beach. It’d require a little bit of travel on his part, but likely wouldn’t be a big deal for Kon; he could just fly. Though in retrospect Kon’s probably spent about half his life on a beach, so maybe that’s not interesting enough. And the Jersey Shore probably wouldn’t measure up to Hawaii in his eyes, either.

Hm. Yeah, Tim's definitely going to have to do some recon.

Tim is possibly putting in too much effort here, considering Kon is going to lose interest in actually flirting with him in about five minutes. Kon never seems to really properly date anyone, as far as Tim's seen; just flirt around a lot. So he should be prioritizing shopping and apartment hunting, really, before Kon gets bored of the flavor of the week and wanders off.

Tim Drake is not exactly an exciting date, so . . . yeah, Tim’s not expecting Kon to stay interested for long. He’s just got to take advantage of it for as long as it lasts to leverage Kon into letting him buy him that cul-de-sac and go from there, that’s all. Kon seems to stay friendly with the girls he flirts with even after things fizzle out or fail to go anywhere, so he assumes it won’t be any different with Tim Drake. As long as Kon’ll let him keep paying his way, that’s all that’s going to matter.

Tim is really going to need to frontload that, though. Establish him paying for Kon as the new status quo very quickly and get Kon used to it before he loses interest in him, so he won’t feel awkward about accepting it by then. Or so Tim will already have signed all the paperwork and it’ll be too late for Kon to protest; whichever.

He’s definitely going to have to frontload it.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young just us #young justice #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

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withacapitalp · 4 months

Text

How to Rehabilitate a Jock Part 19

Part One Link to ao3 Part 18.

Part Twenty

As always thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for generally keeping my head on my shoulders and betaing everything I always throw at you guys ily ily ily

Step Nineteen: Sing a Song

“Are you sure about this Steve?” Claudia asked for the millionth time as Steve opened her coat and held it out in front of him with a patient smile.

“I’m sure. Honest, Mrs. Henderson.” Steve said. He had gone through this exact song and dance with every parent except for Joyce and Hop, and Claudia was the final hold out. Truthfully he had expected Karen Wheeler or the Sinclairs to be the most unsure about leaving their sons at his house overnight, but a few small platitudes had been enough to get them to let go and go home.

Well, a few platitudes and a bottle of wine to hit the road with.

“Steven,” She immediately replied, a faux warning tone coloring her voice as she wagged her finger at him with a grumpy look in her eye.

“Claudia,” Steve amended, still feeling that little awkwardness that he always had when he addressed any adult by their first name. He could practically hear his mother’s voice in his ear telling him off for being impolite. “It’s not a problem, and besides, they’re just going to sleep. Super easy.”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure if that was true, but he had hope. All six of his brats had been letting out big yawns as he had ushered them up the stairs a little while ago, and he hadn’t heard any shouting coming from upstairs yet. There was no way of knowing if the excitement of a sleepover would give them a second wind of some form, but even that would be short lived.

Besides, Eddie had just left to drop off his friends with the promise of coming back soon, so the quicker he got the kids in bed, the better.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, dear, you know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for Dusty and the others,” Claudia said, finally allowing Steve to help her into her coat, “I just can’t believe you don't get tired of having them all here so often. I mean, doesn't it exhaust you? I can barely handle the occasional playdate they have at my house!”

“It does exhaust me,” Steve joked with a soft laugh, “but it’s also nice? A bit hard to explain, I guess.”

“You’re starting to sound like a father,” Claudia teased, buttoning up her extremely bright pink coat., “You’ll make some girl very happy someday.”

Steve laughed along because that was what was appropriate, but he couldn’t deny the weird pit in his stomach that was beginning to grow. A month ago he would have thought it was because of his breakup with Nancy and the prospect that he might never find someone he loved like her ever again.

That made sense.

But Steve could say with almost one hundred percent certainty that Nancy was nothing but a friend now. Someone important to him, but wholly platonic. He could also say that he still very much wanted to be a father. It was one of the things he wanted most in life.

So why was Claudia’s joke making him so uncomfortable?

It made zero sense. There wasn’t any reason. Something just felt… wrong.

Luckily their conversation appeared to be over. There were still the normal polite farewells and long goodbyes in the doorway, but that was all perfunctory. Steve could go through those motions without much thought, and before he knew it the front door shut and he was finally alone in his house once more.

Thump.

Mostly alone.

“You shitheads better have your pajamas on and teeth brushed by the time I reach the top of these steps!” Steve called up from the bottom, standing still and relishing in the sudden flurry of activity that was coming from his bedroom.

The kids weren’t even a bit frightened of him, but they still listened to him when they felt like it, and especially if he was doing something big like letting them all stay overnight so they could spend more time with El. It was almost novel, knowing they were going to actually do what he said with only minimal complaining.

Steve waited one second longer before starting to climb the stairs, purposefully making his steps just a touch louder so he knew the kids could hear him approaching. He even made a show of slowly opening the door to his bedroom, only to be greeted by a truly miraculous sight.

All six of them tucked tight into his bed, quiet and calm. Max, Lucas, and Will were even pretending to be asleep, just to really sell the bit. Max and Lucas weren’t doing too good, but Steve might’ve actually believed Will’s act if he didn’t know that Will always slept on his left, and not his right.

“Look at that, turns out you can do as you’re told,” He said, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip to avoid directly laughing at how good they were pretending to be. The ‘sleepers’ opened their eyes, and the others all relaxed at the easy going tone their babysitter was using.

“Fuck you, Steve,” Mike grumbled, ever the contrarian.

“I can still call your mom and dad to pick you up, Wheeler,” Steve threatened lightly, both of them knowing he would do no such thing.

Still, it was enough to get Mike to back down, grumbling as he snuggled in tighter between Dustin and El.

“How’d the plan go?” Dustin asked eagerly, leaning over his grumpy friend and jamming his elbow’s into Mike’s ribs, causing the other boy to snarl and try to push him off without success.

“Pretty much perfect,” Steve sighed walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling at one of Max’s braids idly just to rile her up a little bit. “El should have no problem going to school next year.”

The kids immediately began to cheer and whoop, already excitedly planning all the things they would get to do together next year.

All except one.

“What’s wrong Supergirl?” Steve asked softly, furrowing his brow at El’s stormy expression. “I thought this would make you happy.”

That was the whole reason he had come up with this insane plan- he had wanted to make El happy. And yet, here she was, practically miserable.

El sucked in one cheek, chewing on it in a move that was so reminiscent of Hopper it almost made Steve laugh. She looked just like her dad when he was deep in thought.

“I am happy about being allowed to go to school,” El finally began, her words slow as she thought through the exact words she wanted to use. Steve waited patiently, knowing she would come to the words when she had them, or would ask for one that might help explain better.

“I am… uncomfortable with lying. Friends don’t lie.”

Friends don’t lie.

Steve wasn’t exactly sure who had taught that to these kids, but if he ever found out, he would not be responsible for what he did.

Don’t lie. What a stupid thing to teach kids. In Steve’s opinion- honesty was overrated. There was nothing wrong with a white lie, or a big fat one, as long as it was for a good reason. What was the point in telling his mother that his dad was out with his secretary again? What sense was there in being truthful when Carol asked if the other girls thought she was mean? Saying those things just hurt everyone, Steve included.

It was better to be smart, to be strategic with the truth, and hope for the best. He would lie to everyone around him, as long as it was what would keep them happiest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and actually, knowing would hurt more.

Still, he couldn’t say that to them. Especially not to El of all people. The other kids barely understood; her black and white way of thinking wouldn’t be able to get it. Not yet.

But then again, maybe it would be better if she never did.

“Friends don’t lie, but friends do keep secrets,” Steve decided, hoping that would be enough. “We’re going to keep your secrets, so you can stay safe. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” El said almost immediately, knowing how important her safety was to Steve. She paused, and Steve could practically see the wheels turning in her brain as she let his words truly sink in.

Once she did she took a deep breath and turned back to him, making sure Steve was looking at her as she spoke.

“But I still don’t like it? Does that make sense?” El asked hesitantly.

“I don’t like it either,” Mike said, and this time Steve could tell he wasn’t just agreeing because it was El. Mike’s little glower had turned into a full blown scowl, and his arms flew around as his voice began to raise, “El saved the world. Twice. She’s a hero, not a monster!”

No, she wasn’t a monster, and Steve would never want her to think of herself as one, but the world wasn’t so kind. Before he could even begin to try explaining that, the kids kept going.

“It does kind of suck that I can’t tell my mom anything,” Max admitted, uncharacteristically quiet as she kept her eyes firmly on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t care about telling Billy or Neil or anything, but my mom asks me about my nightmares, and I can’t tell her why I have them. I’ve never been good at keeping secrets from her.”

“My mom’s still bummed about Mews,” Dustin muttered.

“My mom knows and it’s still hard to talk to her,” Will added on, looking far too old for just being twelve.

They all looked old. It was like Steve could almost see the adults they would be someday far down the line. Adults with secrets to bear, and lies to tell, and too many things they would never be able to explain to the world around him. Things that their mothers would never be able to help them with.

Was that what he was now?

Steve had never even considered talking to his mother about everything they had been through. The thought hadn’t crossed his mind once. And now that he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t imagine a world where he would ever talk to his mom about any of this.

… It was hard to recall the last time he had talked to his mom about anything real.

“I know it sucks, but it’s not safe guys,” He said, focusing on the thing he could worry about and ignoring the panging ache in his heart. This wasn’t a time to think about his mommy issues. This was about the kids.

“Yeah, being put in cuffs once was enough for me,” Lucas said, unconsciously rubbing at his wrists. “Not fun.”

“I do not want to go back to the lab. Secret’s are necessary,” El agreed, reaching over and tangling her fingers in Lucas’s, “but they suck.”

“Secrets suck a big fat one,” Dustin declared.

El leaned back, quirking her head to the side.

“A big fat what?” She asked, the absolute picture of innocence she was.

There was a beat of quiet as they all registered exactly what she had just said, and then as a group they all began to laugh. Steve tried in vain to stifle his giggles, not wanting El to feel like she was being laughed at, but she was smiling too, pleased as punch to get her friends feeling happy again instead of sad.

“I’ll explain it some other time, Elliegirl,” Steve promised, tugging the covers more securely around the brats as he did. “And you guys can always talk to me, you know that right? I’m not the same as your parents, but I’m here.”

Some sleepy nods and yawns answered him, and Steve figured the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. But, just as he reached over to grab the lights, a quiet little voice broke through the silence.

“... Who do you talk to?”

Steve paused, his fingers still curled around the knob on his bedside lamp as he turned to give Will a curious look.

“What?”

“You said we can talk to you, but who do you talk to?” Will explained, a little nervous like always, but not backing down.

No one.

“Plenty of people. I’ve got my friends, and Nancy and Jonathan,” Steve replied, a little too cheerfully, trying to ignore the immediate response that had come to mind.

“But you can’t talk to Eddie or the others about the upside down stuff, and you barely talk to Nancy and Jon,” Max argued, joining Will in staring Steve down now that he had considered the question, “so, who do you get to talk to about this, Steve?”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Steve asked, expertly maneuvering around the situation. He ruffled Dustin’s curls, finally free of his hat, poking him in between the eyes to add an extra annoyance. “I’m the one that worries about you brats, not the other way around.”

“We are friends, Steve. Aren’t friends supposed to watch over each other?” El insisted.

Steve opened his mouth but quickly shut it before he said something stupid like they weren’t friends or it didn’t work that way.

But wasn’t that the truth?

The kids were friends with each other, Nancy was Mike’s sister, Jonathan was Will’s brother, Hopper and Joyce were the parents. Where did Steve fit in that equation? ‘Babysitter’ had been an easy thing to use as a placeholder, but how much longer could he say that? What place was Steve supposed to be in for them as they got older? He wasn’t their brother, but he couldn’t see a world where he fit as one of their friends.

“You’re wrong,” Dustin grumbled, pulling Steve out of his head and back into the moment.

“Excuse me?” Steve said, more than a little shocked. As far as he knew, El was the only one who could read minds, and he hadn’t said a word.

And yet, they were all glaring at him, unhappy with whatever they had seen on his face.

“How many times do we have to say you’re in the party?” Mike muttered, a heavy red blush on his cheeks as he burrowed deeper into the pillows to avoid looking at anyone.

“Dumbass,” Max added, just to even things back out.

A hot heavy warmth spread through Steve’s chest and he bit down the stupid smile that was

threatening to break onto his face. Whatever he was, it didn’t matter. They cared, and that was what mattered.

“If I need to, I’ll talk with you guys,” Steve offered, knowing deep in his bones that he would never do such a thing.

“Promise?” Lucas murmured.

“Promise,” Steve lied with a soft, honey sweet voice, shutting off the light and letting the hallway lamp and the glow of the pool illuminate the room in a gentle cool tone. “Now it’s really time for bed.”

“What about Story and Song?” El asked.

Steve raised his brows in surprise, reminded with a jolt that despite looking just the same, El wasn’t like the other kids.

Story and Song was a little tradition Steve had started for the nights that Hopper had to work late, an easy way to get her to go to bed in an unfamiliar house without the comforting presence of her dad. He would read one of the short stories from his big book of Disney stories, sing her a song, and she would sleep until Hopper came to pick her up. It was sweet, but none of the other kids would have ever dared to ask for such a childish thing. They would want to act more grown up, more mature, always in a rush to grow up.

El had no such qualms.

A familiar storybook was being floated into his lap, and none of them, not even the boys, were protesting. In the blink of an eye, they weren’t old anymore, just kids who wanted to hear a story they already knew to help them fall asleep.

“Which one do you guys want?” Steve asked, ignoring the lump that was starting to grow in his throat, flipping through the Disney storybook and feeling the worn edges against his fingertips.

“Lady and the Tramp?” Dustin offered, seeing that Steve was already thumbing through that page. He turned to the beginning and rolled his neck getting into the mood to read, using the light from the pool outside as his guide.

“Lady was a happy little dog. She lived in a big house with Jim Dear and Darling.”

By the time Steve’s index finger glossed along the last sentences of the story, most of the kids had dropped off. Will had fallen asleep almost immediately, with Dustin and Lucas tripping after him before too long. El had made a valiant attempt to stay up, but she was gone by the time Lady met the other dogs at the pound.

Steve had just two hold outs left.

“G’night guys,” He said quietly, slowly sliding off of the bed and putting the book on the floor next to his bed. Mike turned over and ignored him, but Max sat up with a little glare.

“You said we would get a song too,” Max said sleepily, rubbing at her eyes with both palms.

“That’s being cheap, Harrington.”

Cheap? Was she actually serious?

“You two… want me… to sing you a lullaby?” Steve asked in complete disbelief. El, he understood. She had no frame of reference, no way of knowing that she might be a little bit too old for things like this, but Max?

Mike?

“We just don’t think you can actually sing,” Mike said, his words punctuated by a ridiculously big yawn.

“You gotta close your eyes then, and just listen,” Steve sighed, unwilling to argue this late at night.

“Deal,” Max said, snuggling down into the bed.

Steve let his eyes fall shut, taking a long deep breath as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, putting his back against the bed and conveniently facing away from the kids. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed to sing, it would just be easier not to have to see them while he did it.

But what should he sing?

It had to be something soft, something easy. Something anyone would want to hear.

The memory hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Who could hate this song?”

Steve had the answer.

“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me…”

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