Tumgik
#flowers in mic stand
thewildbelladonna · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mirage Tour, 1982.
68 notes · View notes
stevienicksrarities · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Mirage tour 1982 🎩
104 notes · View notes
chxrry-chris · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
marxy-06 · 7 months
Text
Favorites Fic Recs 4
was supposed to post this a long time ago but tumblr didn't save...this got a little long, apologies (or you're welcome?)
Kim Seokjin
Replacement (@akinnie75)
The truth untold (@vminity21)
The flower bridge (@yoongsisbae)
Fall for me (@ebonyinktea)
Cinnamon bliss (@yoonia)
Glazed and dazed (@floralseokjin)
Voix (@yoonia)
With you (@yoonpobs)
I'm all yours (@sailoryooons)
Smile (@shuadotcom)
Scar kisses (@girl8890)
No pyjamas (@jinkookspencil)
Min Yoongi
No more (@gyukult)
Chocolate opal (@babesindestroyland)
Changing one's tune (@1uckygold)
Before you go (@sweetcarrotsandroses97)
Perfect for me (@7dipity)
Ps, is it okay if I start calling you dad (@btsficsandsuch)
The third & sixth (@jimlingss)
Insecurities (@taetae-mic)
Performance evaluation (@kookscrescent)
Tricks of the trade (@stutterfly)
I'll protect you (@glassbangtan)
My miss right (@lavenjoon)
Step up (or step out) (@hollyhomburg)
Never, never fall (@joheunsaram)
The seven year itch (@jimlingss)
The sweetest thing (@illneverrecover)
Ink petals (@yminie)
Quiet and qualms (@sugafreeagustd)
Illicit favors (@yoongiofmine)
Jung Hoseok
Outro: love is not over (@kiirokero)
Heaven sent (@aquagustd)
Sunshower (@jimlingss)
Unconditionally (@rmsrkive)
Kim Namjoon
The stand in (@yoonia)
The making of: Love (@inkjam-moon)
Easy, like sunday morning (@angelguk)
Inside my mind (@jimlingss)
Park Jimin
Into the wilderness (@gukyi)
Darling you're beautiful (@choking-on-tae)
Puppy steps (@simp-4-jm)
Strip (@yoonia)
A special gift (@peachy213jiminie)
Lovesick (@jimlingss)
My forever: Park Jimin (@bts-trash-blog)
The only way (@ethertae)
Exposure (@dreamyjoons)
Kim Taehyung
Charade (@ughcore)
Wabi sabi (@flurrys-creativity)
Like real people do (@bangtanloverboys)
Lost in you (@jjkeverlast)
Spice (@aquagustd)
A little while (@noteguk)
Mine to claim (@jimilter)
Colors (@lovelytaes-blog)
Insomnia (@hobiwonder)
Sweeter than peaches (@jiminisnotavirgin)
Jeon Jungkook
Love is gone (@jeonbunnie)
2002 (@tattookoo) -> pt. 2 to 1999
Drown in your body (@sparklingchim)
Last christmas (@whatifyoulivelikethat)
Bleeding for you (@mixtapejimin)
I can handle it (@beautifulfuckup99)
Blackjack (@kpopfanfictrash)
Fifth wish (@jiminrings)
The spins (@here2bbtstrash)
From home (@gyukult)
The habits of a broken heart (@softykooky)
Not tired (@gggukniverse)
Cool with you (@kooktrash)
Late (@elitekook)
ストロベリー (?) (@euaphoric)
Tender (@liveyun)
A friends help (@armpirate)
Nevertheless (@nochukoo97)
Dress you up (@plvmkoo)
Soju (@plvmkoo)
Jealousy ink (@kooktrash)
Starry night (@kithtaehyung)
When she loved me (@jungkookstatts) [only fanfic that has made me cry, tread carefully)
He is love (@btsrunmylife)
Rattled (@gukslut)
Love alive (@jamaisjoons)
1999 (@tattookoo)
Home (@bonny-kookoo)
Tteokkboki (@taetaesbaebaepsae)
Cat got your tongue (@jessikahathaway)
The boxer's girlfriend (@i-am-baechu)
Honest fuckboy (@hobiwonder)
Perfect love (@i-am-baechu)
Soft (@hamsterclaw)
Brown-eyed baby (@jeonstudios)
Wrong time (@spideyjimin)
Cherry (@peachypinkygloss)
Off-league (@hansolmates)
For me (@personasintro)
OT7
Bon voyage: Into the sea (@yoongsisbae)
Thank you to all of the wonderful writers, ily <3
3K notes · View notes
gurugirl · 6 months
Text
Just For Tonight | Ch. 1
Tumblr media
Series Summary: Harry spots an angel in the crowd and he can't keep his eyes off of her. And, as if by some cosmic pull, he can't help but ask her backstage. But it's only going to be just for tonight. Or is it?
Chapter Summary: Y/n can't believe her luck when the famous Harry Styles invites her and her friend backstage after his concert is over.
Warning: 18+ only, smut
Word Count: 8646
Commissioned by anon (thank you!! xoxo)
Just For Tonight Masterlist
Almost 20,000 screaming fans, flashing and pulsing lights, percussion, string, vocals, bass, and ego with sex appeal dancing on the stage amongst it all. The entire floor of the venue, stage, walls, and all were vibrating and trembling along with the speakers that thundered with live music, and in the middle of it all the crowd danced and stomped along with the man of the hour. Harry Styles.
For Harry, tonight was a great night. When he performed it was usually pretty fucking great. But tonight, especially, everything was perfect. It was just one of those days that’s a good day for no real reason. The stars aligned, the moon’s gravitational pull balanced everything out, Mars was not in retrograde, and so on and so forth. Who knew what had made it such a lovely day? It just was and Harry was not one to question things like nature and science and destiny. He allowed it to bring him wherever it needed to take him. He was just a passenger on the ride of life.
And everyone in the building felt the same vibes. He just knew it. It had been a perfectly phenomenal day for everyone that he laid eyes on. How could it not? Every time he spotted someone in the crowd and smiled they screamed and jumped excitedly because they were also having a fucking fantastic day. So, okay, sure it might have had something to do with the fact that they were at a Harry Styles concert, and making eye contact with the one and only himself was bound to boost moods.
It was a thrill to wave or smile or call someone out and see their reaction. He loved the attention. Loved watching people swoon and cry out for him. He loved being loved and adored. And tonight, he was very much being adored.
When the song came to an end and the lights went down Harry picked up his Gibson guitar and stepped back up to the mic, signaling the song change. The light shined down over him as he stood gorgeously confident in his black custom Gucci suit sans shirt. His pecs and tattoos bared to the fans, a well-built body proudly on display. He had no reason to not show off. He knew he looked amazing. Not to mention it was also practical because his outfit and the hot lights were boiling.
He loved using old songs from his One Direction days and Stockholm Syndrome always got the crowd to go absolutely nuts. He stood bold and self-assured in front of the microphone as he strummed the guitar and started the song off. Looking at the fans in the center pit they went wild as his eyes roved the crowd, dimples carving into his cheeks at the reaction he got. He’d never get over it.
He began to sing and the sudden greatness of the situation was overwhelming. He knew the universe was giving him something very special at that instant as he strummed and leaned into the mic, belting the opening lines. He wanted to keep his awareness about him and not miss a moment. He was in his element.
And the reason he felt the atmosphere change, he was sure of it the second he laid eyes on her, was standing just right of center stage in the pit. An angel with long hair surrounded by a halo of glitter and the loveliest smile he’d seen in a long time. She wore a bodysuit with a flower pattern that hugged her curves with sparkles all over her skin and her shoulders, gleaming in her hair. Glossy pink and red sunglasses shaped like hearts on her face.
He couldn’t help but look at her as he sang and when he stepped away from the mic to let the fans scream the words he narrowed his eyes at the angel in front of the stage and gave her a quick wave, releasing one hand from his guitar to do so. Watching her pretty pink lips drop open wide when she understood he was waving at her she bounced a little and waved back. Harry’s eyes dragged down her frame again and he realized her tits were bouncing with her. He couldn’t help but notice it. They were supple and she was gorgeous. It was hard not to take her all in as she was.
She hadn’t realized it, until that instant, that he’d been looking at her. She figured that was impossible. There were so many other people next to her but the electricity that buzzed through her veins in that moment had her feeling like the only one in the audience. He continued looking at her through the song, his eyes finding hers as he sang and strummed. His smile deepened each time their gazes met and she felt like she was in a dream. Harry Styles was looking at her and grinning coyly each time his eyes landed on hers.
Y/n was an outspoken person. Someone who didn’t usually hold back with her thoughts and opinions. And even though having Harry looking at her and grinning was making the blood rush to her cheeks and her limbs tremble she knew she needed to call on her boldness to keep his attention. She had an idea before she’d even gotten to the concert that felt like something that would just stay an idea, would remain a little daydream fantasy. But now? She figured why not? She’d seen Harry prancing around at past concerts wearing sunglasses and hats the fans would toss up to him.
But she didn’t want to throw anything up on the stage at him for fear of hurting him or him not seeing it. She wanted to hand him the sunglasses. Maybe they’d even brush fingers. But with the way the stage was set up, she knew that was impossible. Security flanked the fronts and sides and she’d never be able to reach. Instead, she did the next best thing.
The next time Harry spotted her, which was only moments after she decided to enact her plan, she pulled her sunglasses off and pointed at him as she held them up. She was against the barricade near security and Harry’s eyes squinted as he looked at her hand and placed the mic onto the stand before kneeling down next to the man standing in front of the stage. He kept his eyes on the sparkly angel as he pointed at her and spoke to the man who nodded.
The transaction happened in a flash. The man smiled at her as she handed him the heart-shaped sunglasses and then suddenly Harry had them in hand and placed them on his face as he got right back to singing.
The crowd was raucous. Harry wearing cutesy, shiny heart sunglasses got everyone’s attention but Y/n was in awe that he was wearing her cheap dollar store find on his handsome face.
And when the song was over he pulled the sunglasses off and mouthed, “Can I keep these?”
Y/n nodded exaggeratedly and smiled as she bounced a little. It was the best night of her life; she was sure of it. The entire day had been amazing. From the moment she woke up to right then as she had Harry’s grin aimed at her it had been perfection. Even her outfit and hair were perfect. She knew it. It was just one of those days and she felt like it was all meant to be.
She danced and swayed to the songs, sang along with the crowd, and Harry kept giving her glances and cheeky smirks. He was definitely flirting with her.
“I can’t believe he’s keeping your sunglasses! What if he wears them after tonight and he’s photographed with them?” Y/n’s co-worker, Ady, was with her. She and Ady were loose friends. They got along well enough and both liked Harry Styles. So when Y/n scored two tickets and her best friend declined to go to the concert with her she asked Ady. She figured Ady would be willing given the colorful TPWK screensaver she had on her work computer.  
Harry began to interact with the signs in the crowd. Reading them aloud as he casually paced and laughed and made the fans laugh with him.
But as he walked toward the part of the stage where Y/n and Ady were standing Harry pointed directly at Y/n, “What’s your name?”
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to keep calm and Ady squealed next to her, “Her name is Y/n!”
Y/n turned to look at Ady and they laughed together but Harry continued, “Her name is what again?” He cupped his ear and leaned in to hear better.
This time Y/n was quick to react, “Y/n!!” She shouted as loudly and clearly as possible.
Harry stood up straight and laughed, “Y/n. Lovely. And your friend’s name?”
Ady shouted her name and Harry nodded, “Is it just the two of you?”
Y/n and Ady nodded with wide grins and Harry sauntered around in the spot as he motioned with his arms, “Y/n, here, gave me a pair of sunglasses and is allowing me to keep them,” he spoke to the fans and then looked back toward Y/n. “And I just wanted to say, thank you, Y/n. That was so thoughtful of you to give them to me.”
She placed her hand over her heart as she shouted, “You’re welcome!” And Harry placed his hand over his heart and winked.
An absolute dream. The whole night had been. The attention she was getting from Harry was something she’d never forget. She was positive that he found her attractive based on the way he kept looking toward her and grinning. It was one of those things that happen in life that make you spark and give you a giddiness that you’ll wake in the middle of the night thinking of or suddenly become overwhelmed with while you’re loading the dishwasher. Something that you take with you and sew into your bones and inwardly smile and gush over. Something that can’t ever be taken away. A small moment in time that’s yours to take with you forever.
Harry did his usual end-of-concert routine, including the whale before jogging off stage. The lights brightened slowly and the sounds of chatter and concertgoers laughing and singing filled the venue.
Y/n wasn’t ready to leave the magic of the concert but all good things must come to an end. As she and Ady were about to file out behind the other pit fans the security guard who handed her sunglasses off to Harry approached her, “You’re both invited backstage. Harry’s invitation.”
There was no way she’d ever get over that night.
The area was set up in two sections. A handful of fans and other people were all in one spot, a large room with foldout chairs and tables along the wall, and then there was another room opposite the large one, where Y/n and Ady were asked to stay. The room was small with a couch and coffee table, a few armchairs, a TV on the wall, and a buffet with pitchers of water and juices lined up with glasses and napkins at the end.
Y/n sat in one of the armchairs and Ady poured herself a glass of green juice, “Sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’ll get something in a minute. Just need a second to process everything. That was so amazing, wasn’t it?”
The pair talked about the concert as a man walked into the room and filled a glass with water for himself. He greeted Ady and then Y/n, “Hi. I’m Tommy.”
He sat down and made small talk for a bit, “So, this is the special guest room. Did you get a personal invite from Harry?” His grin was cheeky. Y/n didn’t know what any of that meant.
“Yeah, he invited us backstage after the concert was over. I gave him my sunglasses.”
Tommy nodded and raised his brows, “Ahh… I see. Well, he’ll be done out there soon.”
Soon was thirty minutes later. Tommy turned the TV on and handed the remote to Ady before he left the room. They got to meet Sarah and Pauli before they noticed some of the fans leaving and the other room slowly growing empty.
And when Harry finally walked into the room it was as if time stood still. That cliché was happening in real time. He wore a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt with tennis shoes, and a big smile as he looked at Y/n before greeting Ady with a handshake and a hug.
Y/n stood abruptly as Harry greeted her in the same way.
He sat on the couch and urged Y/n to sit next to him as Ady took the armchair closest and they all talked briefly about the concert. He asked more questions about how they knew one another and if they were from the area, what they did for a living…
He was perfectly polite and attentive. The man was gorgeous up close and Y/n tried not to let her imagination get away from her as he spoke and she watched his features and looked down over his tattooed arm and muscular thighs under his jeans.
Harry laughed at something Ady said and then ran his fingers through his hair and looked at Y/n, “I’m really glad you came. You have good taste in sunglasses. And music,” he chuckled at his joke and Y/n laughed with him.
“But um… would you be willing to stay back with me a bit? If you want?” He looked directly at Y/n as he asked but she didn't assume the question was only aimed at herself and of course, she was willing to stay back with him so she nodded and looked at Ady to make sure she was good with it too.
Just as Ady was about to say something Harry interrupted, “I’m really sorry. I can only have one person stay back per the rules, and since you,” he looked over at Y/n, “were so kind to allow me to keep your sunglasses, thought it would only be fair.”
The sudden realization changed the atmosphere in the room. He was asking Y/n to stay back. Only her. Not Ady.
“Oh, sure. Yeah of course. That’s fine,” Ady smiled and looked at her friend. “Y/n you stay. I’ll go back to the hotel and see you later then?”
It was awkward for sure. Y/n felt a little guilty for being so excited at the idea of being able to hang out with Harry one-on-one but at the same time, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even if Ady had said she would rather Y/n go with her she would have stayed with Harry. She was not going to miss whatever it was he had planned.
She was led into another room. One with a door that Harry closed behind himself. He watched as she looked around. It was what looked like a dressing room.
“Would you like a drink? Or something to eat?” Harry asked as he walked up behind Y/n and honed in on what she was looking at. The rack of outfits. He always had five to choose from for each show. Usually, there was one that was suggested but Harry liked making the final decision. Which also meant each outfit would be tailored the same day as a show regardless if he wore them or not. Now, the tailoring wasn’t much. It wasn’t as if Harry’s weight and size fluctuated all that much from show to show. But lately, he was bulking up a bit. His trainer had him working out for hours each day. Harry’s body was in the best shape it’d ever been in. So some seams were let out and there were a few little tucks and folds and bits that needed to be sewn last minute typically.
“What do you have to drink?”
Harry turned and opened up the mini fridge as he squatted down, “Let’s see. Beer, wine, tequila, whisky. I can get you anything you want, though.”
Of course he could.
“Tequila on the rocks? Is that okay?” She was feeling a bit uncertain. She didn’t know what to expect or what was allowed. She wasn’t sure what was going on in general. Her nerves were starting to erupt a bit at the idea that he might have her in his dressing room alone for something more than just a chat.
“Sure. I’ll have one with you.”
They sat next to one another on the couch and made more small talk. She was surprised that he stayed a couple of feet from her the whole time as he sipped his glass and asked her about her job, her family, a dog she mentioned.
When she’d finished her tequila she tapped at the glass with her fingernails and looked at Harry curiously, “So, um… should I be going now? What’s the plan?”
Harry laughed and gulped down the last of his tequila before clearing his throat nervously, “If you want to go you can but um…” he licked his lips and sat the glass down on the table next to his side and planted his green gaze on her pretty eyes, “I’m going to head to my suite in a bit. It’s really nice and big. Would you want to go back there with me?”
Y/n grinned and squinted her eyes at him, “What for? Are you planning on making a move on me or something?”
Harry sputtered out a laugh and his adorable dimples dug into his face. He hadn’t expected her to say it right then but he could tell she was a bold person. Knew from the start, when she got his attention with her sunglasses that she wasn’t shy and wouldn’t need lots of guidance. Which he preferred. Timid women were nice and all but Harry didn’t like to be the one to make the first move in most cases. He felt that wasn’t fair. He was famous and handsome and it was unlikely a girl would turn him down so he liked it when he was pursued a little. He liked it when the other person made the suggestions and led the way a bit. Felt more authentic that way.
“Do you want me to make a move?”
Y/n sighed and grinned back at him, “You’re not answering my question,” she turned to face him, the glitter on her arms rubbing off onto the couch. “Is that what this is? Because so far you’ve just made a bunch of small talk and you’ve listened to me ramble on about my boring job.”
Harry nodded. Fair enough.
“Okay. Yes. I wanted to make a move. But I feel like doing that in my suite gives us more privacy rather than here. It’s up to you, though.”
“There it is. So this was just a way for you to get me to come back to your room with you.” She smiled as she teased.
Harry laughed a breath out of his nose and nodded, “Yes, Y/n. I hoped you’d come back to my room with me. Will you?”
“Can I kiss you first and then make that decision? I need to know what I’m getting myself into before you get me all alone in your suite.”
Harry gulped and felt his chest get warm. Yes, she was perfectly bold. Exactly what he hoped.
He nodded, “Okay.” He scooted himself toward her body and she moved her hands up to his shoulders and laughed quietly at the absurdity.
Harry smiled and just before he could laugh with her he felt her soft, glossy lips on his and he melted. Her lips were warm and tasted like strawberries from the lip gloss she was wearing and her body was suddenly pressed into his.
When she licked over his lips Harry groaned as he opened his mouth to let his tongue slide out against hers. It all happened so fast and his head was spinning.
She determined she liked, no loved, the way he kissed. A little messy and wet. Plenty of tongue and small moans fell from his lungs. His lips were puffy and soft and she’d never imagined in her life that she’d get to feel his lips on hers but here they were licking and sucking and making out on a couch in his dressing room after his concert.
When she parted they both gasped and their expressions mirrored each other. Blown-out pupils, drooped lids, pink, wet lips, and harsh breaths inhaled into their chests.
“Yes. I’ll go with you to your room.”
They couldn’t go together. Out of necessity. She was taken in a separate car to his hotel and then ushered to the penthouse suite he was staying in.
And she understood the hullabaloo. She knew it was necessary. Not only had she been a fan of his since his One Direction days, and had seen how his fans were crazy, but she also got to see it with her own eyes all the young girls outside of the hotel waiting for him to appear.
His suite was just as posh as she thought it would be. Tall windows overlooked the city lights. The room she entered had tall ceilings, a piano along the wall, flowers on an elegant table, wainscoting wrapped the walls from edge to edge, large wooden doors with intricate carvings, a huge leather couch, and two wool woven armchairs on either side with a low-profile wooden coffee table in the center that looked antique. A huge flatscreen TV across from the couch, a chandelier above, expensive artwork adorned the walls, and a fireplace on the other side with another sitting area and plush pillows piled over the chairs.
Not wanting to wait another second to feel her lips on his, Harry pulled her into his arms and they continued right where they’d left off.
Wet lips and tongues gliding together slowly until Y/n pulled his elbow, “Let’s sit down.”
Harry followed her to the loveseat that faced the fireplace and gestured for him to sit as if it were her room. He nodded and sat, keeping his legs spread apart as he watched the pretty girl climb over him and straddle his lap.
The moment she sat down she felt him under her. He was rock-hard.
“You poor thing. Do you need help, Harry?” She looked at him innocently as he parted his pink lips and nodded.
“Yeah? What do you need then?” She dipped in to kiss him again as she rocked herself over him and he groaned at her moxy. She was quite confident. Harry was already in love.
“Anything. Whatever you want.”
She kissed down over his jaw slowly and heard his chest vibrate as she got lower. What did she want? Well, she wanted to look at him. Wanted to perceive his body up close without any clothes. Wanted to touch his skin and see his tattoos and kiss his pecs and his abs. She wanted to see him.
“Let’s get your clothes off. I want to see you, Harry.”
He was not shy about his body. He’d never been. He had absolutely no problem whatsoever hanging out naked in front of friends or wearing only briefs in front of his family. Though some would urge him to put clothes on, Harry didn’t care if anyone saw his schlong or his balls (well maybe he didn’t want his mom and his sister to see all that).
So when he began to take his clothes off and kept his eyes on hers she watched as he exposed skin little by little. His chest came into view. The laurels, the butterfly, the swallows… He was a god.
But then, when he stood to remove his pants she got to her knees and stuck her fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein underwear, and looked up at him, “Can I take these off of you?”
“Please.”
She smiled at the please. She was tempted to run her palm over the large bulge under the fabric of his briefs first but she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to see him. The moment she pulled the stretchy material down and his cock plopped outward toward her face she moaned as she looked at it closely. Continuing to pull his briefs down his legs, she kept her eyes on his hardened organ. It looked heavy.
“Harry…” she breathed out a moan and looked up at him in all his naked glory. It was even better than she imagined. “Fuck.”
Running her hands up his thighs she focused on the tiger tattoo and delicately kissed over the ink. The solid tissue under his skin was taut. He was strong. His thighs were thick with muscles. Good for a nice hard fuck with lots of stamina, she imagined.
“Can I touch your pretty cock, Harry?” She asked him as she looked up from her spot on her knees. Y/n was still fully dressed but she needed to worship his body for a bit first. It was very important. His build was perfection and he deserved the praise and attention for it.
“Yes, please.” He nodded.
She grinned and tilted her head, “I love it when you say please.”
She turned her focus to the thickened cock before her. He was so hard the foreskin was effectively pulled back revealing his engorged, pink tip. Smooth and pretty. She flattened her palms along either side of his dick over his trimmed pubes and let her fingertips reach up to the laurels at his hips before she grazed her thumb along his shaft.
Harry gasped as he watched her touch him and inspect him. He loved her attention.
“You’re so warm,” she cupped her palm under his shaft and lifted upward. “It’s heavy.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips over the laurels on his hips and sighed as his cock nudged against her chest. The man was incredible. A work of art. She smoothed her palms upward to his stomach and over his abs, tight and well-muscled. Masculine. Pretty.
Y/n had always appreciated how attractive and fit Harry was from afar. Making up scenarios in her head that allowed her to touch him and lick him and do ungodly things to him. Imagining he’d pluck her from the crowd and invite her backstage and then bring her back to his room and fuck her brains out. And she felt like her fantasy was now becoming a reality.
“I’ve always wanted to touch you and see you up close. You’re so sexy, Harry,” she purred as she brushed her hands down to his sides and around his low back as she looked up at him standing over her, “Can I put it in my mouth?” She directed her eyes to his cock and then back up to him.
“If you want. Is it easier if-“
“Just like this. Just need you in my mouth,” she wrapped her fingers around his shaft and lifted him upward, and licked the underside of his cock all the way to the tip. He tasted clean. She could tell he’d showered after the show. He smelled good and he looked even better.
Harry wasn’t sure what to do with his hands but he settled on putting his fingers at the back of her head gently. Not to push her or force her down but just to feel her in his hands and to touch what he could reach.
Kissing the ridge of his frenulum she kept her eyes upward on his as she widened her mouth and put her tongue out before gently wrapping her lips around his smooth tip. Harry’s mouth dropped open as he watched her take him.
She licked and sucked the tip as she slowly stroked him at his base. Pulling back she smiled up at him, “You’re so long. I don’t think I can take you all the way. I’m gonna do my best to make it feel so good for you.” With that, she put his tip back into her mouth and got to work.
Harry groaned and let out the smallest whine, “S’okay. You’re perfect. Just like that, angel.”
She smiled around him and moaned softly at the little nickname. Angel. She figured that was cute.
With her free hand, she brushed her fingers over his thigh and the fine hairs over his skin. There wasn’t any single part of him that wasn’t gorgeous.
Bobbing her head and getting into a good rhythm she found that she could take him a little more. He was still quite thick, though, and it proved difficult.
“You don’t have to… fuck, fuck!” Harry moaned. She felt so good around him doing it just like she was. If she couldn’t deep-throat him he’d still be the happiest man on the planet at that moment. “Don’t have to go so deep. I wanna taste too…” he panted his words.
She pulled back when she tasted his precome and kissed her lips down his shaft to his pubes, seeing flecks of her glitter in the thatch of hair that surrounded his thick base, and then looked up at him before shifting to stand up. She dipped in to kiss his butterfly tattoo, gently poking her tongue out as she went and then upward to his pecs. Using her tongue she lapped at the muscle and wet his nipple before kissing all around, feeling his hair tickle her lips as she let her mouth drag over his skin. She traveled to the other side, her hands on his ribs, kissing and licking at his pectoral.
She sucked his nipple into her mouth and moaned when he gasped in response. Up she ventured to his swallows just under his clavicle, kissing the ink over his bone and skin and then his neck again.
“You’re gonna make me come just like this. Holy shit.” Harry was so hard it hurt and her lips on his skin felt like magic. “Please. Let me lick you too. Take this off.” He pleaded as he plucked at the fabric of her bodysuit.
Y/n stood back and began to unzip the back as she watched Harry. The girl was gorgeous already. Her hair with glitter and soft lips, round doe eyes… but when her tits softly bounced from the fabric she had them trapped under he nearly fell to his knees.
Her nipples were already tight and hard and the flesh that surrounded them was indulgent. Plump. He watched as she pulled the material down her body until she was nude. She’d had nothing on under her bodysuit.
Harry reached to cup her breasts and the moment his palms found her delicate skin and felt her nipples pressing into his hand he leaned down and wrapped his lips around her nipple.
Harry Styles pink lips were sucking on her nipple. The Harry Styles (she repeated in her mind). She didn’t know what sort of good thing she’d done in life to deserve having this happen but she would not question it. She stuffed her fingers into his soft curls and cooed at him, “Feels so good, Harry. I love having your mouth on my skin like this.”
Harry squeezed and kneaded and licked and sucked. He peppered kisses over every inch of her breasts until Y/n was keening and her fingers were tight in his hair.
He pressed his lips to hers and pulled her toward the big bed, her back hitting the mattress solidly before he climbed between her legs and moaned at the state she was in, “Just need a taste. Is that okay?” He looked up at her, his hands smoothing from the inner bend of her knee up toward the top of her inner thigh, inches from her pussy.
“Yes. Of course, it is.” She was going to say more but the words caught in her throat as she watched him go in tongue first. Her cushiony crease was damp and tasty.
Pushing her deeper into the bed, he kept himself between her thighs before putting his arms under her hip and pushing his shoulders against the back of her thighs to keep her spread and open for him.
He began to lick and lap as he watched her eyes. The scruff on his face brushed at her soft skin and her pussy lips felt it too. But she was not going to stop him. She hoped she had scruff burn, or whatever the equivalent of a carpet burn from being eaten out by a man with an overgrown trim on his face was called.
Soft and wet and cushy. Harry was gentle with his licks and kisses. He was wetting his lips and tasting her arousal, swallowing it down, and digging in a little deeper when she started to pant and swivel her hips.
Suddenly the quick flicking of his tongue on her clit caught her off guard from the subdued licking and kissing he’d issued her at first. She moaned as she watched his pink tongue ravage her button. He was pushing into it, flicking it, pressing it down, lifting it up, and then… then he looked into her eyes as he wrapped his lips around her clit and pulled it into his mouth. Slurping noises took over the easy slushy sound of his tongue licking through her folds.
“Harry!” She craned her neck to see what sorcery he was performing, “You’re so good. Right there… yes!”
He had a few go-to cunnilingus moves. This one always seemed to get the biggest reaction the fastest. It also brought women to orgasm in record time. It took some practice but he’d suck the clit and continue flicking his tongue while applying pressure with his mouth over the pelvis.
And the way she was squirming indicated she was enjoying it very much.
He released her clit and then went back to slow licks and kisses up her crease. He stopped at her entrance and lapped at the slick spot for a moment before sticking his tongue inside as far as it would reach. Nuzzling in as close as he could get, he poked his tongue in and out and nudged his nose to her clit, rubbing back and forth.
“Fuck! Yes… Oh my god!”
Harry gently rocked his hips down into the mattress. His cock was throbbing. But he wanted her to come.
Y/n saw his motion and could tell he must be aching. And as much as she’d have loved to let him take his time and eat her out it could take awhile to get her to come from that alone. But she knew one thing that would satisfy her like nothing else.
“H…Harry?” She panted her words as he continued working at her pussy with his mouth.
He lifted his face, “What is it?”
“Would you… Do you want to have sex?” She wasn’t sure if that was where this was headed. Oral sex was great of course. But she’d seen his cock and his body was strong and lithe and she knew he’d be good at fucking. It was all she could think of. Having him inside of her, splitting her open, moving into her repeatedly…
Harry sat up, his chest red and his cock even redder, “Sure. I mean… I’d love that. But this,” he gestured toward her and then himself before putting his palm back on her inner thigh, “is only just for tonight. I just want to make that clear. I’m still on tour and… well you know.” His breaths were deep and ragged.
He hated to give the spiel right then, but it hadn’t come up and if there was one thing he learned in all of his years of having casual sex, it was to be upfront even if it put a slight damper on the mood. It was better than waiting until afterward.
She nodded and grinned, “Well yeah. I didn’t think you’d propose to me or anything. I know what this is. Just for tonight.”
Harry and Y/n positioned themselves on the bed into the pillows and Harry reached over to grab a condom but Y/n took it from him before he could open the wrapper, “Let me put it on you, big guy.”
Harry clenched his jaw and watched the pretty girl tear the wrapper and then straddle his thighs as she held his thick shaft in her palm so she could position the condom over his head before slowly rolling it down over his shaft, “Mmm… It’s tight on you. You’re so big, Harry.”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Harry was a big fan of having his ego stroked. Loved being complimented. Praised. Loved when his cock was fawned over.
When the condom was on, Harry grabbed her hips as she climbed over him, lowering her pussy against his condom-covered cock and slipping up and down his shaft to wet the condom.
Glitter was everywhere. On his torso, on her tits, his shoulders, her thighs. She was too far gone to worry about what that could mean for later. She just wanted to feel him inside of her. She ached to have him inside of her.
Their mouths met again as they moved slowly together. Y/n could feel Harry’s tight grip on her thigh and then as he moved one hand to cup her ass, he squeezed and bucked up gently.
She couldn’t wait to get him inside of her so she lifted herself to her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders, “Can I fuck myself on your pretty cock now? You ready to feel me?”
Harry moaned, “God yes.”
Harry was in awe of how she was speaking to him. Not shy and not over the top with how she was taking the lead either. She still allowed him to do things he wanted, but she took initiative and it was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.
She grasped the base of his cock and looked down to where they were pressed together as she placed him at her entrance. Harry’s rigid cock was thick and she felt how tight the fit was the moment she slid down over his crown.
Harry groaned and moved both of his hands to her tits and squeezed as she took her time sitting over him.
“You’re so hard, Harry. So thick. Do you feel that?”
Harry’s head was spinning. Y/n was exactly what he needed for the night. The perfect combination of sexy and bold. An angel who knew what she wanted and took it. “Yes, angel… god… gonna dream of this forever,” he looked into her eyes once she was finally seated over him, his dick pressed into her so deep she was sure there had never been anyone that had reached that far into her before.
She knew this was just for the night. Understood Harry’s reasoning and figured that’s what this was going into it. But this was something she’d never forget. She’d always look back on this fondly. And even though he was looking at her in such a way that felt far more intimate than it should, she wouldn’t allow herself to wonder what it would be like to see him again. Because that was definitely not going to happen.
When she began to glide up and down shallowly they both panted in shaky breaths. Harry was glad the condom was giving him the slightest barrier so he didn’t come immediately. Because her tits and her skin, the soft specs of glitter, her lips, and tight pussy were begging for his orgasm. Begging for his come. Everything about her was sex. A gift in the form of a glittery angel that was coaxing and urging an orgasm from him.
“You’re gonna make me come so hard. Fucking perfect,” Harry whispered as she slowly ground over him and pressed her clit into his pelvis.
She nodded and smoothed her hands up, one at the side of his neck, the other on his jaw, “Yeah? My pussy feels so good, doesn’t it? Nice and tight around you. I just know I’m gripping the fuck out of your big cock.”
She moved slowly over him. Gently riding herself on his dick and keeping her clit stimulated as they kept their eyes on one another.
Finally, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his neck and squeezed at the opposite side of his throat as she nipped his skin and drew her mouth upward to his jaw, “God it feels so good, Harry.”
It did feel good. The best maybe. She loved that she got to be in control a little. Loved how he was letting her take the reigns. But she did want him to fuck the life out of her. Put his strong muscles to work. To make a loud chorus of sex sounds and moans bouncing off the walls of the suite.
Stopping her gentle rocking and grinding she licked into his mouth slowly before pulling away, “I need you to fuck me so hard that I feel it for days. Okay? Since this is all we get, want to take you with me through the week.”
Harry let out a whimpered laugh as she removed herself from his lap. Harry followed her and climbed over her as she laid herself down on her back.
He would give her exactly what she wanted. Harry could fuck. That was for certain. He didn’t work out as hard as he did for no reason. And he was attentive so he knew he could at least make it fun. He hoped to give her an orgasm and that was the goal. But if she wanted it hard, wanted to feel him for days, he’d make sure of that.
He pushed himself between her thighs and pulled her hips toward him, elevating her bum off the mattress the slightest as he placed his fingers on her clit, “I’ll fuck you hard, angel. But you tell me if you need anything or you need me to stop. Okay?”
Y/n nodded and grinned at him, “Give it to me, Harry,” she moaned and rolled her hips upward, pressing her clit into his hand. Her thighs were angled upward with her feet flat on the mattress, her bottom resting between Harry’s thighs as he sat back on his haunches. This position would give him plenty of leverage to fuck into her hard and deep using his strong thighs.
Harry’s whole shaft was already coated in her as he lined himself up with her pussy. Removing his fingers from her clit he leaned forward and gave her tits an obligatory squeeze before he pushed his tip in, feeling the tight snap of her muscle expanding and receiving him.
They moaned in unison at the feel of him entering her slowly. He pressed in and slicked himself back out to the tip, watching the way she stretched around him, perfectly wet and aroused for him. And the next plunge he took wasn’t slow at all. She gasped as he slammed himself in to the hilt and held onto her hips, knocking her upward and making her tits bounce.
His pace was relentless and she knew it would be. He was strong and full of stamina. Each thrust and prod into her guts felt deeper and deeper and sharper and achier. She loved it.
She could barely get a single moan out with the way he was punching himself into her.
And just like she wanted, the sounds of sex surrounded them. Skin thudding together wetly, the smallest squeak of the bed rocked in time with his harsh thrust as he hammered into her, and their deep breaths and moans.
The view of her pussylips gripping him on each stroke was phenomenal. The smells, the sounds… The way her tits bounced and her mouth was dropped open. He knew at the very least she was enjoying it.
She moved her hand down her torso and to her clit while the other hand grasped onto one of Harry’s forearms where he kept a tight grasp on her hip.
Soaked. She was absolutely drenched. Her fingers slid over her throbbing button back and forth as Harry thrusted himself in and out deeper and deeper.
“This what you wanted, angel?” Harry asked the pretty girl who was quite clearly fucked out and flopping upward every time he plunged in balls deep.
Her tongue slid over her wet lips, “Oh! Fuck, Harry!” She gasped loudly.
Coming to a halt, he buried himself in until his balls were pressed into her bottom and he undulated his hips to punctuate just how deliciously deep he was inside of her.
She sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his cock grinding into her, [TK1] “You’re fucking me so good right now,” her chest was rising and falling and Harry couldn’t help when he brought a hand up to her breasts to fondle and press over her nipples, thumbs gliding over the supple skin. She sucked in a sharp breath and stretched her neck, keeping her eyes on his, “But you can always go harder.”
Harry blinked and coughed out a laugh, “Really? You want harder? Can I spank you?”
Y/n nodded quickly, “Fuck yes.”
And that was that. Harry loved a good spanking (whether giving or receiving if he were honest). He pulled out from her sweet pussy and lowered himself over her to kiss her mouth quickly.
But the moment he pulled away she was sitting up and turning herself around to give him access to her ass. On her hands and knees, she looked at him from over her shoulder and noted the way he was taking her all in.
He whined and grabbed onto the globes of her bum and smushed the flesh in his hands. Smoothing his palms over the expanse of her backside he brought them down to the backs of her thighs and then back up, letting his thumbs drag inward and through her wet pussy crease before finally issuing the first harsh strike.
She jumped at the sudden impact but when his palm came down on the other side she melted into the way his big hands felt on her. The sting and the leftover burn. Repeated smacks on either side were interrupted when he slammed his cock into her.
“Fuck I need to be inside of this pretty pussy.” He continued smacking her bum as he drove into her with long and hard strokes, bucking into her with meaningful thumps.
Y/n grasped the blankets under her and kept herself steady but by the time he was finished bruising her backside, his hips began to rock into her at a jarring pace once again. She slowly began to slip forward from his force.
With the front of Harry’s thighs pressed into the back of hers he put an arm under her middle to keep her from slipping too far down. His other hand moved from her hip down to her bum and pulled at the cheek as he rutted into her, a steady clatter of bodies knocking together.
Y/n reached down to rub her clit again, pushing Harry’s arm out of her way. He breathed out a laugh but moved his arm, bringing his other hand to the other side of her bottom, pulling both cheeks apart so he could watch himself sink into her over and over again. Small bits of her white cream were smearing over his condom and he imagined what it might look like to fill her up with his come and fuck himself into her, pushing his own orgasm deep into her insides.
“Harry!” She managed to cry out. It was difficult to speak at all but she was so close and the way he was rocking his hips into her in heavy plunges was perfection.
“I know, angel! You gonna come?” Harry’s words were strained. He was holding out for her to come first. Wanted to feel the squeeze and the throb of her pussy around him.
“Yes! Keep going!”
Harry could feel her fingers brushing against his balls as she rubbed her clit rapidly.
“M’gonna come… please, Y/n! Come for me angel!” He was trying his very best to stave off his orgasm but the view of her taking him and the sounds of him wetly plunging into her were sending him over the edge.
Suddenly Y/n removed her fingers from her clit and brought her hand behind her to grab Harry’s and pulled it forward, placing his palm over the front of her neck, “Choke me.”
Harry groaned as he put one palm flat onto the mattress next to her and used his other hand to squeeze at the sides of her neck. His strokes became slower, his hips pasted to her, pushing inward deep and heavy and sticky.
She sucked in one desperate gasp before his grip tightened just enough that she began to feel that sparkly, wooly stupor she loved with being gently choked. She reached for her clit and all she could focus on were the sounds of Harry grunting and moaning softly into her ear and the feel of his cock lodged deep into her guts. He wasn’t pulling back, only fucking himself forward, deeper and deeper as she submitted to her orgasm.
Harry could hear her wet gurgle and feel the way she vibrated under his body as he rocked into her and then the pulse of her soft walls, wrapped around his cock, gripping him tight as she fell into the realm of stupor and ecstasy.
He let go of her neck and straightened himself out, putting his hands onto her bottom and spreading her as he began to pound into her, long, smooth strokes of his cock nudging into her insides, stretching and splitting her as she came with shaky thighs.
“Fffucckk!” He threw his head back, the image of her swollen, wet, fucked out pussy seared in his brain as he began to come into his condom, filling it up with warm liquid. He groaned loudly into the suite as his balls were being properly drained, wishing, imagining he was giving her his come, coating her insides with him where her body would receive, swallow it, and use it accordingly.
“Oh my god, Harry!” Y/n gasped. He had nudged himself in as deep as he possibly could and the throb of his heavy cock in her felt like decadence. She couldn’t wait to check out the marks his fingers left behind the following day. The little secret only she’d know.
They collapsed together into the bed, Harry pulling out and carefully taking his condom off, discarding it on the floor without much care.
“You’re gonna stay here with me tonight?”
She let her fingers slowly work their way up his abs and over the butterfly, “If you want me to. I don’t mind leaving.”
She didn’t want to leave and Harry didn’t want her to either.
“I want you to stay. I’ve got a wake up at 9 am for a training session so, we can get you a taxi to your hotel or wherever you need then,” he sighed and dug an arm under her shoulder, dragging her toward himself.
Closing her eyes and smiling into his shoulder she nodded, “That sounds great.”
It was a shame this was all only for the night. He’d been an excellent lover, but it was fair of course. He was a busy, famous, pop star. She couldn’t blame him for setting that boundary. She was glad she even had the chance with him at all.  This would definitely be something she’d never forget.
Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist
Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕
Tags: @daphnesutton @michellekstyles @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @luvonstyles @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince @dirtytissuebox @closureesny @lhharrylilpumpkin @justlemmeadoreyou @itsgigikay @angelbabyyy99 @lllukulele @lanadelharry @novasblogofstuff @gills-lounge @damnasstyles @malwtilda @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @0oolookitsme @babybunharry @anothermannharry @love-letters-to-uranus @itjustkindahappenedreally @kelly-fushiguro345 @harrys-foxy @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs @reveriehs @lc-fics @mema10
1K notes · View notes
seiwas · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
₊˚⊹。here, just for you | bakugo katsuki
Tumblr media
wc: 1.0k summary: you give bakugo flowers, and he can’t figure out why. contains: implied f!reader but i don’t mention anything specific, talks about flowers and a kind of early established relationship, just fluff and bakugo getting flustered while going through the motions of a relationship!  a/n: this is aged up to when bakugo is a pro! i envision him maturing a lot and mellowing out a little so hopefully this captures that!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
Tumblr media
Bakugo doesn’t know what to expect, stepping into his office after a long day on patrol—actually, scratch that. Bakugo doesn’t expect anything, really, besides his office to look the exact same way he left it this morning: pristine and orderly. 
And it is, for the most part—save for a small bouquet of flowers sitting delicately on his desk. 
It isn’t uncommon for him to receive some; companies and politicians often send them to express their good graces. But those usually go through PR first, along with the many other trinkets and letters received from fans. 
So, it shouldn’t really be a big deal, except, flowers have never appeared in his office, on his desk, with a note written in your handwriting, until now. 
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he remembers holidays, birthdays, and since being with you—potential anniversaries too. But there’s nothing, complete zilch that comes up when he tries to recall what today could be. 
He furrows his brows, looking for your contact on his phone. Most of his hero costume is gone now, all of the chunky pieces stored away to reveal the plain black jumpsuit he wears underneath. Clunky boots replaced by rubber shoes he wears more and more these days. 
He reaches for the bouquet while his phone rings, fingers sliding through the leaves softly. It’s a simple arrangement: a few gerberas and tulips standing out in pink and orange against small bunches of baby’s breath and cocculus. There’s a homeyness to it he can only attribute to you. 
“Katsuki?” you pick up, warmth and affection coming through.
“Y’got me flowers?” he asks gruffly, thumbing the note you’d written. 
There’s nothing on it but ‘For Katsuki’ in your cursive. No indication of what it’s for, or why you’d given it in the first place. He’s confused and maybe a little nervous; did he forget a date or something?
“Oh, yeah!” you exclaim, a string of ‘pings’ sounding your request at a video call. 
Lately, calls with you end up this way. For the longest time, Bakugo’s been a text-mostly-and-call-but-no-video-only kind of guy; it’s quick and efficient, gets things done with minimal fuss. But since getting together with you, texting’s begun to feel a little bit insufficient without your voice accompanying it. Regular calls suffice, but you know how harsh his words can sound despite his face saying otherwise. 
Your relationship is kind of old but still kind of new—a few months before you celebrate one year, and he still rolls his eyes (at himself) whenever you do this, lips quirked up as he clicks ‘accept’ (as if he can’t believe how you’ve single-handedly changed his phone habits just like that). 
You wait for him to adjust his phone, portions of his office in blur before he props it against the All Might paperweight on his desk. You continue, “Do you like it?”
He shoves the bouquet into the frame, smothering the microphone until all you hear is muffled noise. 
“Sorry, baby, I think you’re covering the mic.”
He tuts and you laugh as his face comes into view a few seconds later. His eyebrows are bunched together in the way they characteristically are and you see remnants of his black eyeliner smudged across his eyelids. Even at the tail end of his day, tired and just a little bit grumpy, Bakugo still looks pretty illuminated by the light on his phone.
It’s unfair, you think.  
“S’nice.” he murmurs, fiddling with the petals, “Thank you.” 
You catch his gaze and smile, “You’re welcome.” 
There’s an uneasiness to Bakugo’s eyes that you can tell comes from uncertainty, and you give him the silence to sort through it before he lets you know eventually, just like he always does. 
“I–”, he looks to the side, away from the camera. The crease between his eyebrows grow deeper before clearing his throat, “–M’not forgetting anythin’ today, am I?”
You tilt your head, puzzled, “I don’t think so, unless I’m forgetting it too.” 
“So why’d–”, he looks back to the bouquet, sighing, “–why’dya give me flowers?” 
Bakugo prides himself on his good memory; he knows your favorite food, and your usual order from that café you both go to down the street. He remembers that one sunday, during a hike, when you told him in passing that it was the best day of your life. You don’t like fuzzy socks because they make you sneeze, and you’re allergic to dust but continue to tend to him even when he’s covered entirely in it. 
Bakugo knows all these things and makes it a point to because a relationship–this relationship with you–is new and kind of hard, and this is one way he knows he can be good to you.
“Oh,” you blink, before answering so casually, so honestly, “I just wanted to.” 
Ruby eyes stare back at you, a mixture of emotions you can’t decipher swirling in them. His fingers slip through the leaves of the bouquet once more before his gaze softens.
“Ha.” he huffs out, almost chuckling to himself in relief. 
“Yeah, ‘ha’,” you tease, laughing, “they’re just for being you, Katsuki.” 
The look you send him is fond, but the feeling it gives him is anything but. Every time you laugh, and smile, and speak to him as if he is every bit deserving of the love you give, there is a battle raging in his ribcage. He doesn’t know when it’s ever going to stop feeling that way–if it ever will. The sides of his neck begin to flush red, and you giggle, finding it every bit endearing. 
He clears his throat again, trying hard to hide how flustered he feels, “D’you make it?” 
You nod, “Been trying flower arranging lately.” 
“S’pretty.” he supplies, turning the bouquet around to show you. You grow shy, Bakugo knowing full well how terrible you are at taking compliments. 
“You should get going, it’s getting late.” you mumble, snuggling into your blanket, the one he’d left in your apartment months ago. 
Bakugo grunts in agreement, “Tomorrow, 7am?” 
You hum, “Message me when you get home,” reminding him, even though this is routine by now. 
The next day, just like every other Tuesday, Bakugo will pick you up at 7am for a trip to that café you go to down the street. And maybe, on another day, you’ll get him flowers again, just for being your Katsuki. 
1K notes · View notes
twsted-time · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Overblot bois vs dirty songs
How will the overblot bois react to their girlfriend listening (and dancing to dirty songs from her world.
CW: face fucking on Leona’s part. Established relationships. Mention of malleus having two cocks
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Riddle:
Song: hips don’t lie
Face turns red immediately
You can’t tell if his embarrassed or angry
Collars you for being immoral (if you are in public)
If not he just scolds you for listening to such things.
Would forbid you to listen to them again.
“W-Why are you listening to something like that!?” He stuttered. “It’s a song from my world.” You whined. “A-Are all songs from your world this… dirty…” he trailed off. You shook your head. “No but there are worse out there.”
Tumblr media
Leona
Song:MONTERO
Wonders why you woke him up.
When he sees how you are dancing to the song as well as listening to the lyrics he decides to just watch you.
Till you make a motion to the lyrics “Shot a child in your mouth while I’m riding”
Suddenly you don’t even to get finish the song as you are pushed to your knees with Leona infront of you.
You can barely breathe with the rough pass Leona had set thrusting into your throat. “Hah.. if you wanted to swallow my cum herbivore. You could hav said so. “ he panted out as his hands gripped your hair.
Tumblr media
Azul:
Song: Daisy (don’t ask I wanna save some of the others for later)
Is appalled by how vulgar the song starts.
Then is also a bit put off by. How much the song curses.
Till it starts “I’m crazy but you like that. I bite back, daisies on your night stand”
He can’t help but watch how your hips move.
Is very glad you two are the only ones in the vip room
“My pearl must you move like that?” He asked trying not to look up at you by fake focusing on his contracts. You smile and wink at him before just continuing to dance. Managing to catch his gaze every now and then with a huge blush on his face.
Tumblr media
Jamil
Song: candy shop
Is horrified at first
But his eyes can’t help but drift to your hips
Kinda realize the lyrics aren’t about candy
Try not to get too sexual with the song.
Right as you bend over hand over your pussy when the female voice goes ‘keep going till you hit the spot’ you feel his hand on your back. “My desert flower… I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t do that. You try to stand up but his hand is pushing on your back. “Jamil…” you could hear him groan a bit. Then you knew you were in for a long night.
Tumblr media
Vil
Song: unholy
Shakes his head.
Can’t help but watch you through the mirror of his vanity.
Curses under his breath in German tho mostly can hide how you are effecting him.
Till you drop down and back up hands lifting up your hair. Fluffing up and push out your hips.
You find yourself pinned to his bed. “V-Vil?” You call out his name. “Du bist ein ungezogenes Mädchen... hoffen wir, dass deine Beine halten können” your lover spoke in his native tongue. Your eyes widened as he said. You knew exactly what you were in for that night.
Tumblr media
Idia
Song: S&M
He was trying to play his game why must you distract him.
His hair turning pink gave him away to tell you what you wer doing was working.
Had to turn his mic off.
Ultimately ended up losing turning his chair around right on time to see you bent over ass facing him as you slowly begain to rise up.
Idia got up from. Having an unknown burst of what you could could call. Brat taming energy. Suddenly getting knocked off your feet with your usually shy boyfriend on top of you. “Y/N… I hope you are prepared to face the consequences for making me lose that match.” The night was filled with edging and overstimulation. Crying out that it was too much, but him telling you that you could take it.
Tumblr media
Malleus
Song: spiritual healing
When he first hears the name he doesn’t think much I’ve it.
When the real song starts he looks confused then he watches your movements.
At “the way she suck my soul I need some spiritual healing.” He watched how your hips moved.
Malleus placed his hands on your hips and you could feel his hard cocks against your thigh. “Child of man. You should know better then to rile me up like that…” Your eye widened. “Safe word?” He asked. “Strawberry” he nodded. “Good” and that was the last thing you remember
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
barefoothighlander · 9 months
Text
septem peccata mortalia - lust
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader
warnings: mdni (18+), sex pollen, cnc, unprotected pinv, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, creampie, biting, mention of blood, bit of anal fingering, praise, dacryphilia
masterlist
“Mantis, I don’t have eyes on that field”
Ghost's voice warns you through the device in your ear, your mind flipping between options, you’re target had run straight ahead, you could see him weaving around the tall grass, navigating holes in the dirt as you moved closer.
“He’s in my sights Ghost”
“Do not engage without backup”
You can hear the wind passing through his mic, he’s chasing behind you but you can’t tell how far, there’s already too much distance between you and the target.
“Negative, I’m going after him”
The plants graze against your skin as you move through them, brushing against your legs as you leave a trail of footprints in the mud. You can hear Ghost's voice in your ear yelling at you, but the blood pumping in your veins is too loud, carrying you closer to the man.
It catches you by surprise, the lack of air flowing to your lungs, you’ve trained for situations worse than this, you should be able to run less than a few miles before even feeling the slightest bit tired, yet your skin was dripping with sweat, your head on fire as your legs grow heavier.
“Ghost, somethings wrong”
“Fall back Mantis”
“I can’t, he’s right there”
You huff your breaths, moving your legs as fast as they’ll go as you try to catch up to the target until all of a sudden your skin feels like it’s on fire, every hair on your body standing on end like someone lit a match to your flesh.
“Mantis, where are you”
“Field, red flowers” It’s all you can manage through strangled gasps for air, your hand clutching your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache.
You give up, your body drained of its energy as you watch the target move further away, the anger of defeat settling into your body as you collapse to the ground, your knees digging into the mud as your body sinks lower.
You can hear him in your ear, his voice echoing as he draws closer to you, there’s panic behind his voice, a real worry about you.
“Mantis, do you copy, are you alright?”
“Hurts”
His body sinks beside yours, nervous hands ghosting over your form as his eyes scan your body.
“Where, did he hit you”
“No”
“What happened?” His eyes dart from your head to your feet, noting the way your chest heaves with every breath. “There’s no blood, what’s wrong”
“Hurts so much”
You squeeze your eyes shut, shifting your hips, trying to do anything to calm the ache in your muscles as your skin feels like it’s being burned.
“Okay, okay c’mon”
His arms scoop under your form, lifting you and keeping you pressed against him, his scent flooding your senses as you rest your cheek to his chest, your body moving with every step he takes.
He moves from the field, searching the terrain as his eyes land on a circle of large trees, placing you down to rest against the trunk of one.
“We need evac, somethings wrong with Mantis”
“Ghost, please, it hurts”
“What hurts, tell me so I can help”
You can’t find the words to describe the sparks in your lower stomach, your face flush as you come to terms with having to beg your Lieutenant to fuck you.
“Need you Ghost”
“Need me to what? Stay focused Sargent”
Your mouth dries as you try to form the words, heavy eyes gazing at his, the dark pupils staring back at you behind the mask.
“Need you, to fuck me”
It was like every synapse in his brain fired at once, combining confusion and desire, the words he’d longed to hear for so long escaping your lips but under the worst circumstances possible.
His hands plant on the sides of your head, tilting it and checking your pupils, he was sure you must’ve sustained some sort of head injury, your eyes blown out and your skin searing to the touch.
“Ghost, Simon, please”
“Is that what hurts?”
You nod weakly, adjusting your body for some kind of friction, his knee bend between your legs as he holds you still. Arching your hips your grind your core against his clothed thigh, nerves shooting up your spine at the contact, weak moans falling from your lips.
If he thought you were playing some kind of joke before, he was sure you were serious, watching you grind against his leg, your chest rising as your head falls back against the tree. He can feel the warmth from your core through your clothes, radiating against his thigh, feeling his pants grow tighter with each second.
“Does that feel good?”
His brain flips a switch, too consumed with the sight of you using him to get yourself off to be concerned with anything else, he’s dreamed about your noises, the way your face would scrunch as you fell apart under his touch, but now you were using him for your pleasure, he wanted to help.
“Keep doing that, harder”
You press your down harder against his thigh, the seam of your pants rubbing against your swollen clit as he watches you. He rocks his leg slightly, following your rhythm as your arousal seeps through your pants, leaving a wet spot between your thighs, making his cock twitch.
“Just like that, keep going love”
He presses his leg firm against your core, applying the right amount of pressure as you chase your high, hips circling as your chest blossoms, muscles tightening as your orgasm takes over your body.
He helps you ride your high out, moving his knee back and forth to allow you to come down slowly, his cock now painfully hard under his pants as you slump back.
“Feel better?”
“Need more, please”
His hands make their way under you, shifting your body to lay flat on the ground as he moves to sit between your legs, large hands working quickly to undo your pants, wasting no time in dipping below your underwear and gliding his digits through your folds.
He lets out a groan as his fingers collect your slick, smearing it around your cunt as you whimper, he grabs your legs, pulling them to his chest and takes off your pants, leaning over to bunch them under your head, providing some sort of protection from the elements as he pushes two fingers into you, feeling the way your pussy clamps down on him.
He pumps two digits into you, gliding them easily along your walls as his thumb rubs circles over your sensitive bud.
“That feel good? My fingers fucking you?”
You respond with a moan, hands reaching for his and moving them under your shirt, urging him to touch you. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching the bud eliciting a yelp from you as your hips rock in time with his movements, your skin drenched in sweat as he works you toward your second high.
“Cum for me love, soak my hand”
Your mouth falls open, drunken moans escaping as his fingers knead your breasts,
“So beautiful, c’mon want to feel you cum”
His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing his fingers as your orgasm tears through your body, back arching from the ground, pressing your body further onto his fingers as you cum.
“That’s it, such a good girl”
He pulls his fingers from you, leaving an empty feeling in your chest,
“Better?”
Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you shake your head, “More Ghost, please, need more”
“Alright love, I’ll give you what you need”
He watches drops of tears stream down tour cheeks, salty trails left over your flushed skin, he’d never seen someone so worked up he almost pitied you.
He could lie and say he was simply doing it for your benefit, to help you with your situation but he knew he couldn’t control himself, every dream that had him waking in a sweat for the past few months, the reminder of how the tips of his ears would turn pink when you’d lean over a desk or bend down to grab something, he’d never felt desire for someone like this, like he’d be at your beck and call every hour of the day, willing to do whatever you wanted as long as it meant he could feel you.
Every fibre of his being burned for you, almost as brightly as yours did at that moment, he had so many thoughts about what he’d do when he finally got you naked, but this, right now, was about you.
You bite your lower lip as he rigs his pants lower, the tip of his cock red and dripping as it springs free, a slight sense of panic as your eyes take in the size of him but the way your core aches for him drowns out any sense of doubt.
He drags his tip through your folds, stifling a groan as your slick coats him, his hand pressed firmly to your waist as you lock your legs around him.
“Don’t tease” You huff
“M’not gonna last long”
You reach up, grabbing the top of his tactical vest as you pull his face to yours, soft eyes and wet cheeks inches from his face, he wants to stay like this forever, his thumb tuning gently over the tears on your skin, collecting them before he places the digit on your lower lip.
You open your mouth, allowing him to push his thumb in, swirling your tongue around the digit, the salt on his skin mixing with your saliva.
His thumb holds your jaw open as he pushes his cock in, stretching you around his length as moans erupt from your throat, your fingers grip his vest holding him near you, letting his scent and sounds drown you as his cock stuffs you full.
He drags his length along your walls, allowing you a moment to adjust before you tug him to face you.
“Need it hard, please”
Without missing a beat he plunges his full length into you, his tip jamming into your cervix with every thrust as you arch into him, your heels digging into his back, driving him into you.
“Thought about this for so long, so goddamn perfect”
You tilt your chin to the sky, your body jolting with every thrust as he leans down, fingers pulling his mask to reveal his lips as they connect with your collar bone, neck, chest, anywhere he could reach he was trailing kisses.
“Touch yourself love”
You do as he says, snaking a hand between your bodies to trace over your clit, eyes squeezing shut at the stimulation as they well up.
“Just like that, doing so well”
Weak digits work your bud, lazy circles out of time with his thrusts, your band in your stomach slowly stretching but it’s not enough.
“More Ghost, need more”
He stops his movements for a minute, a single digit moving to part your lips, pushing in and exploring your mouth as you whimper around it.
He pulls his finger out with a pop, his cock still inside you as his other hand grabs your leg, flipping your body and tugging you up to your knees.
He teases the wet finger around your other hole, his cock twitching inside you as you arch your back for him, pushing your hips back to allow him access.
Slowly he pushes in, thrusting his length slightly as he reaches the first knuckle, listening to your noises.
“This what you need pretty girl both holes filled?”
“Yes, please, fuck me”
He pushes the finger deeper, watching your hole swallow the digit as he pumps his cock into you, slowly he pulls his finger, pushing it back in, allowing you to adjust before moving in time with his thrusts.
You’re stuffed to the brim with his cock while his finger works you open, your slick dripping from your core to coat your legs as his hips collide with your ass, using the last bit of your strength to steady yourself in the dirt.
“Want you to cum in me, please, need to feel you”
His balls tighten at the thought,
“Fuck, cum for me love, one more, squeeze my cock with your little pussy”
Your body melts into putty, every inch of skin slick with sweat as you turn your head to face him, watery eyes staring as he locks eyes with you, his lips are still visible, a piece of him you’d never seen before.
In a burst of strength you pull off him, turning your body and shoving him back as you climb onto his lap, weak hands on his shoulders as you sink down on his cock, leaning in to connect your lips. You bare your teeth into his lower lip, stifling the moan from your throat as his hands grip your waist, tugging you up and down his cock as he digs his heels into the dirt, thrusting his hips to meet yours, his cock slamming into you with brutal force.
You taste metal in your mouth, pulling back a drip of blood falls from his lips, mixing with the saliva that strings you two together, everything is too much, his hands holding you against him as he fucks you from below, his scent drowning your senses as his taste lingers on your tongue, it takes over your body.
You cum with a sob, your arms clinging to him as your body becomes putty, with one arm he tugs you against him, holding you down on his cock as his hips twitch, free hand grabbing your jaw to face him, his eyes softening as they glance as your wrecked form, puffy skin stained with your cries.
You watch his jaw tense as his grip tightens, his cock buried in you as his cum floods your walls, filling you with his seed while he stares into your eyes.
You fall against him, your head nestled into his shoulder as your nerves finally calm, your limbs numb on his form as he holds you, small kisses placed to your sticky skin.
“You’re alright love, did so well”
Your tears soak the shoulder on his uniform, leaving a patch of dark fabric as he helps you up, holding you to keep you steady, he helps you to tug on your pants, letting them fall loosely on your hips to avoid any contact with your pussy.
He scoops your body up before you have the chance to stumble, holding you to his chest as he moves, keeping his eyes on you instead of the terrain, more concerned with your well-being than anything else.
“It’ll be alright, I’ll get you home”
The time spent in the helicopter is a blur, the noises all meshing into one high pitched ring that didn’t subside until you fell asleep against his chest, your mind and body weak from the mission. You had slept for hours, your nervous system attempting to fight off whatever sort of chemical had entered it, your vision still a slight blur as you woke, turning your head to your surroundings, the room you were in had different lighting than the hospital wing at base, the bed your body lay in much comfort than the cots they issued.
There was no mechanical beeping, no strong scent of cleaning solution, instead it smells like him, you turn your gaze, he’s there, sitting in the corner, watching you.
“You’re awake”
You grumble an incoherent response, attempting to sit up as he rushes to your side, his hand flat on your back as he helps you, he reaches for the glass beside you, bringing it to your lips to help you drink, urging you to finish it before moving it away.
“What happened?”
“Some sort of chemical entered your system, they can’t tell what”
“S’that why-?”
“I think so, yeah”
You nod weakly, Ghosts shoulders slump slightly at your question,
“No hospital?”
“They kept you for a few hours but I didn’t want them poking around”
“So we’re now where?”
“My flat, I figured you could rest here”
“Oh”
“I can take you home if you like”
You shake your head, “Here’s fine”
“Right, I’ll make you some tea then”
He stands from the bed, your eyes following his movements,
“Simon”
“Yes love?”
“It wasn’t just the chemical”
You see his eyes crease under his balaclava, confirmation that you felt the same way he did, kneeling beside you his thumb traces over your cheek, now cool and relaxed rather than burning to the touch.
He lifts his mask from his chin, leaning forward to connect your lips, your hand moving to cover his as he grabs it, locking his fingers between yours.
He pulls back from the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours as he huffs a breath,
“Rest love, I’ll take care of you”
1K notes · View notes
riaki · 3 months
Text
thinkibg ab racer!wriothesley like those boxing aus except u wear his racing jackets n ur constantly hang out in his car after races… racer!wrio whos always looking for u in the stands; who, after crossing that checkered line, gets out of his car and takes his helmet off, shaking his hair damp with sweat and mussing the dark strands with one hand. who’s always nicking the sleeve of the glove with his teeth to pull it off instead of using his hands like he’s been told to before, just because he knows u like it.
racer!wrio who's bombarded w/ questions as soon as he steps off the track; flashing lights and mics to his lips— all demanding to know what it’s like to be a racing champion and who you are. and all he does is hook an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side and call you ‘his girl’. you’re usually not public with it, but his cologne smells more intoxicating than usual today, so who’s complaining? plus, his habit of rubbing the dip in your shoulder just above your collarbone has a way of distracting u from all else.
and whenever he can afford it, he’ll always be taking u out— a drinking night on his tab, or a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hand with your name on a tag, or a pretty bottle of perfume that’s a little too expensive for your comfort. but everytime u approach him ab it, he just brushes you off with a slow, distracting kiss on your skin and smoothly changing the topic. he’ll be the one to wear the stress lines, not you.
racer!wrio, who gets injured from a dirty play during the race; who lets you undress him and tend to his wounds, giving you a sharp smile when you run your fingers over the scar on his collar. he’d never tell you, but the rush he gets from the race is nothing compared to the cold thrill of your touch. you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker, and the adrenaline junkie’s perfectly content to be a sitting duck. racer!wrio, who forces u to read the fanmail he receives and laughs when you accuse him of torturing you when, in reality, he thinks you’re the cutest when you’re jealous, and he just loves to hear the romantic gush in your pretty voice. he's absolutely whipped
961 notes · View notes
mawofthemagnetar · 3 months
Text
No Mister Slab, I Expect You(r Keyboard) To Die!
Inspired by THIS tumblr post!
Etho woke up staring at his lap.
He blinked a few times, and lifted his head. Something was bound tight around his wrists, and the chair he’d been tied to was kind of painful.
He blinked, uncomprehending, as he stared into the massive eyes and smug smile of Keralis.
Etho opened his mouth.
And closed it.
Keralis was sitting in a high-backed spiky-looking chair, like something out of a movie. And of course, he was wearing a white suit with a blue flower for a corsage. For some reason, Jellie was sprawled contentedly across his lap. As if that wasn’t enough, behind him, a wall of lava was flowing down. Etho looked around the rest of the (modern and tasteful, natch) room, to see it dominated by suits of armour and other lovely decorations.  
Keralis’ massive desk sat between them, with a shiny new gaming PC and all the trimmings off to the side. Keralis gently stroked Jellie, and locked eyes with Etho.
“Ah, Etho! You’re awake!” he said brightly, and his left eye twitched.
“…Keralis? You okay, buddy? Something wrong?”
Etho would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous.
“Hm? No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m very, very fine.” Keralis leaned in, grinning nastily.
“So…uh…why am I tied to a chair?” Etho asked, tilting his head, “’Cause, like, I was kind of sending some e-mails to Pause when Doc dropped that bag over my head, and-“
Keralis’ eye twitched.
“I suppose we don’t waste time, then. Etho!” Keralis said grandly, steepling his fingers together on the desk, “I am replacing your entire setup.”
Etho froze.
“NO-!“
“OH, YES!” Keralis cackled, “YES, ETHO, YES! A NEW KEYBOARD! A NEW MOUSE! NEW MONITORS! A NEW MIC STAND!”
“…Actually, can I keep my old monitor, I only had, like, the one-“
Keralis’ eye twitched.
“You get two monitors now,” he said grandly, scratching Jellie behind the ears. She hissed and hopped off Keralis’ lap, wandering away.
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Etho shouted, “I- man, I have like, emotional attachment to-“
Keralis twitched again.
He pressed a button on his desk.
A massive flying machine flew up at the top of the lava wall, Etho momentarily spellbound by the build that had Doc’s thumbprints all over it. And speaking of Doc, the man himself was standing at the top of the lava wall on a catwalk, wearing a black suit and an evil smile.
The flames danced in his eye as he placed down a shulkerbox containing…something.
“What…what are you going to do?” Etho asked nervously, “What do you want from me?”
“You? Nothing!” Keralis laughed, “your setup, though, sweetface…”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM MY SETUP!”
“DOC!” Keralis called, snapping his fingers, “BURN IT!”
And Doc threw the shulker into the lava.
Etho gasped as it broke, as his broken keyboard, his sticky mouse, and his monitor with a flickery line going through the middle of it all fell into the flames. His tissue box, though-
Etho shed a tear as the empty Kleenex box hit the lava and instantly burst into flames.
“You’re a monster!” he sniffled.
Both Keralis and Doc burst out laughing. Grand, evil cackles, that eventually petered out.
“Why? Why would you do this to me!?” Etho protested.
Keralis scowled, clicked a few things on his own terminal, and spun the monitor around to see.
“THIS IS WHY.” He shouted.
Etho’s eyes fell on an email he’d sent out to all of the Hermits the previous week.
“I fail to see how that’s a problem. Or worthy of being on your Bond Villain arc.” Etho huffed.
“ETHO. THERE ARE NO SPACES BETWEEN ANY OF THE WORDS!” Keralis shouted.  
462 notes · View notes
saintslewis · 4 months
Text
❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader
summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.
warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.
wc: 2.6k
requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!
saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!
taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)
pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)
-
"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.
Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.
You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.
Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.
During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.
Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.
Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.
"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.
Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.
-
A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.
Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.
"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"
"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.
Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.
But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.
You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.
"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.
"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.
As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.
Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.
"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.
“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”
“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.
Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.
You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.
Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.
Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .
Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.
Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.
You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.
“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.
You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.
Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.
“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.
This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.
771 notes · View notes
thewildbelladonna · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mirage tour, 1982.
267 notes · View notes
luveline · 1 year
Text
𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
part one | part two 
You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome, and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating. Too bad you just can’t seem to leave each other alone. 
fem!reader, enemies-to-lovers, rival rockstars, mutual pining, slight miscommunication, angst, hurt-comfort, eddie has mixed intentions, sexual tension, TW bullying (in case), TW recreational drug use, drinking, smoking, swearing. disclaimer: I can’t play an instrument
𓆩❤︎𓆪
The Coral Apartments, California, November 1990
Eddie Munson looks good on TV. You try to convince yourself that it's the blurry imagery, the three-toned LED's, but you know it's because he's plain good-looking. Rockstar suits him. Glam suits him; eyeliner, ripped shirts, ever-bruised knuckles and cut up fingertips that speak of a wrought dedication to the music he plays. 
You look away from the TV and push the sheets down with your feet, naked legs flat to the mattress and covered in your own cuts and bruises. It's not entirely Morgan's fault, but every time you see the shiny scar on your ankle you get mad at her again. She'd been sloppy on stage, pulled her mic tight and sent you reeling over it like a tripwire. You'd cut up your legs, sprained your wrist, and split your chin. On national TV. In front of thousands of people. 
Your ego is pretty bruised too. 
Worse was the bouquet of flowers you'd been sent the day after, huge and bursting with colour from a certain dark-haired thorn in your side. 
Saw you ate shit. Stop day-dreaming about me during sets and you'll be fine. EM 
You'd trashed the card but hadn't had the heart to fob the flowers. The last survivors of the bunch wilt slowly on the nightstand beside you, a much too pretty reminder of somebody you're trying to forget. Or rather, erase. You won't admit to yourself what happened at Monsters of Rock, because admitting it means he's winning. 
Morgan pushes your door open with her hip. If she's perturbed to find you in your underwear she doesn't say a word, making a beeline for your bag. She takes out your Newports and taps the carton against her chest. 
"What's up?" she asks, sliding a cigarette from the box and propping it between her shiny lips. "You still feeling sorry for yourself?"
"Morgan." 
She lights her cigarette, laughing through an exhale of smoke. "How many times do I have to say sorry?" 
"Once would be nice." 
"Babe." Morgan sits at the end of your bed, in a good mood for once but still herself. "I'm sorry you fell over my mic." 
She likely doesn't even see what's wrong with her apology. You accept it for what it is and hold your arm out for the pack and lighter. Knees pulled up, you settle against the headboard and light a cigarette yourself, but snuff it out after a shallow inhale. Nothing feels worth indulging in when the knot of anxiety in your chest keeps on tightening. 
"Where's Ananya?" you ask. 
"You're watching this again?" 
You glance at the TV where Corroded Coffin play through their Monsters of Rock set. 
"M'just waiting for us," you lie mildly.
"Sure… You know, you shouldn't feel bad about your spill last week. Look at Munson. Biggest crowd of his life and he's tripping over an E major." 
She snorts, the two of you watching as the Eddie on screen looks to the left of the stage and misses his mark. 
"How do you flub that?" She rolls her eyes. "Boys." 
How did he flub it? You'd been standing on the side stage cleaned up and smiling like you were half in love with him. The recording is proof — whatever power it is that he has over you, you have something similar over him. 
"Anya's in the lobby waiting for us." 
You sit up. 
"Why?" 
Morgan points at the alarm clock on your nightstand with the smouldering tip of her cigarette. "It's Friday." 
"It's Thursday." 
She smiles at you. If you didn't know her, the look of pity on her face might almost feel genuine. As it stands, she's a magnanimous bitch when she wants to be. She's lucky that it suits her. 
"It's Friday, babe. And we're," —she tilts her head to one side, the bemusement in her eyes unmissable— "ten minutes late." 
"Shit. Shit." You stand up on wobbly legs. "Fuck." 
"Don't worry! I got you something." 
With Morgan, you aren't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. But you don't really have a choice. 
Eddie won't admit to anybody why he finds himself in California. The band isn't touring, award season is mostly over. He should go home and see Wayne because fuck he's a bad nephew, a bad son, and Wayne deserves a whole lot better than one phone call a week when Eddie's too hungover to actually listen to what his uncle is saying. He should head back to Hawkins and make sure Wayne's actually cashing in the cheque's Eddie's been sending. 
He shouldn't be hanging around parties hosted by people he only knows from TV looking for you, that's for sure. 
The good thing about being semi famous is that introductions don't matter. Either somebody already knows you or they don't, and everybody assumes you already know them. Eddie can't count how many times somebody's pulled him in for a one-armed hug and said "Good to see you again," when they've never met before. 
It could be the coke. It's probably the ego. 
Eddie isn't extremely introspective or anything, but he hopes to fuck that he isn't an asshole. He knows he is in superficial ways. He's said some hurtful shit to people — to you — he wishes every now and then that he could take back. In the moment it had felt right to tease you, to belittle you as he thought you'd belittled him. He'd wanted to put his hand out and ask how high you can jump. But then he remembers how your bandmates had spoken to you, or your glitzy smile. He remembers the twisting pain in his chest when you'd fallen over on stage a week ago (though if anybody asks, he heard about it from somebody else). You'd smashed into the floor with a cruel force, arms twisted trying to protect your guitar, not a second spared to save yourself. You'd got back on your feet with blood dripping down your chin and played the rest of the song without complaint. Not one person had stepped in to clean you up. 
It drives Eddie insane. He can't help it. He hates you and he wants to linger on the sidelines and watch you play. He can't stand the despondent look in your eyes when you look at him, when you look at the floor. He needs you to know that you're better than they tell you, but he can't make himself say the words. 
So he'd sent you flowers and made a lame joke, hoping for hot and coming off desperate no doubt. He'd regretted it as soon as he'd hung up the phone, but he hadn't cancelled the order. Something colourful, he'd said. What flowers cheer people up? 
The florist had laughed at his awkward tone and said that all flowers do the trick. 
God, he hopes so. 
Which isn't to say Eddie likes you. He can't stand you, actually, come to think of it, standing in the sticky pit of some actress' kitchen as he pioneers the radio and flicks through to Roller FM. Resentment burns like fire as the dial clicks beneath his fingers, turning the volume up enough to hear the radio host introduce your band. 
"And tonight, a month before their new studio album hits the charts, Godless are letting us be the first to hear the second single. The outpour of hype after their first, Down and Out, was no small feat, and we have the lovely ladies here tonight to walk us through that fresh sound. But first, let's spin that new single. Ladies and gents, this is Silver Ringed…" 
Godless are about as cohesive as Corroded Coffin. They have a unique sound as most chart toppers tend to have, and as much as he thinks your front woman is a total hack, she can sing. Her voice moves from sultry and quiet to aggressive and rasping. She isn't afraid to scream when she needs to, and you and Ananya obviously won't let yourselves be outdone. Your music is visceral. It's good. Not Corroded Coffin good, you don't have the clean cut sound they do, but Eddie knows that isn't the point. It's supposed to be a little dirty, and since they let you on the writing floor it's getting worse. Better. Whatever. 
Eddie rubs his face with both hands. 
When the song ends, the radio host asks some questions about the new album, inspirations, touring, promotional album covers, the works, and Eddie hates himself for waiting to hear your voice. He grows irritated at the sound of Morgan's raspy nonchalance. 
"I mean, you guys are really stepping into a new genre here." It's true. Godless and bands like yours are more energetic, more aggressive than what Eddie plays. It's a divisive subject. Eddie likes it, but he knows a ton of metalheads who think it's immature. It's certainly not traditional. "Your first album was a whole lot different. And it was good, Godless broke into the scene! But this is new. You guys are more original and more popular than ever. Why the change?" The host laughs. "Well, she's sitting right here." 
Eddie thinks he can hear you inhale, but it's Morgan who speaks. 
"I wanted more for us, you know? Our first record, we just wanted to prove we could do it. This time we want to prove no one else can." 
Jamison scoffs. Eddie looks up from the radio and finds his bandmate with a beer in hand. He tries to steal it and gets an elbow to the chest for the effort. 
"Dick," he says. 
"Get your own." Jamison tilts his head toward the radio in a show of tuning in. "Can't tear yourself away, huh? How's your girlfriend?" 
"Christ," Eddie hisses. 
"You need him. Aw, she sounds so sweet." 
Eddie startles back to the radio, and sure enough you've finally been allowed to talk. Your voice is soft with nerves. 
"It's a lot to adjust to, I think I'm slow to- uh, get with the program. But I'm so happy to get to make music and to be a part of something this sick. Uh, this amazing, I mean." 
Poor girl, he thinks. By the end of your answer you sound like you want the ground to swallow you up. Thankfully the host is a professional, and laughs warmly. 
"It's a big lifestyle change! We talked a little about influence, is there a track I can play you guys out with? What's your favourite?" he asks. 
"Me?" you ask. 
"Yeah, you." 
"Oh, uh…" You laugh, sounding frazzled and sweet at once. "It has to be Black Sabbath, right? Do you guys have, um, The Mob Rules? Mob Rules is my favourite." 
Eddie needs to get very drunk, he decides, and he does. He drinks until he can't taste the difference between the shitty craft beer and seven hundred dollar cognac. Until he forgets why he was drinking in the first place, to erase the sound of your voice and your Sabbath recommendation — who the fuck picks Mob Rules over Heaven and Hell? He's tipsy and he won't remember, but he wants to fuck you stupid just for that (affectionately).
He loves Mob Rules. 
They move from one party to another, sloshed in the back of a car he still can't afford with his rockstar paycheck, more than drunk in the bathroom of a Studio City mansion kissing powder off of his fingers. Whatever he's been given doesn't last very long (though it hits hard), and he comes back to reality on a huge fancy couch surrounded by people, some he knows and most he doesn't. 
"I need a drink," he says. 
And he gets the shock of his life.
"I don't think that's a very good idea," you say gently. 
Eddie swings his head to yours, finding you in a nice dress, the gem of a necklace fallen down the valley of your chest. The lights are high and blaring and he can see the fine hairs of your face, the shine of your lipgloss like a siren call. 
"Why are you here?" he asks. 
You shrug. He watches your shoulders. 
"I need a drink," he says again. 
"Like, a beer? I don't judge but I think you’ll get alcohol poisoning if you drink anything else." 
"Like a beer." 
You look like you might stand up and get him one, for a second. He's ultimately glad that you don't. You twist around, elbow over the back of the couch, and your face beams like a star as you call, "Hey, Dornie? Could you toss me a beer, please?" 
Eddie worries he'd wanted to see you so badly you've appeared as a hallucination, and he hates himself and it's all old news anyways, but you turn back with a cold as ice beer in hand and press it into his arm until he whines.
"I'm sobering you up," you tease, again so gently. He does not like how you're looking at him, like you feel sorry for him. 
He takes the beer though the second sip makes him feel sick to his stomach, and tries not to look at you. 
"What, you don't want to be my friend anymore?" you ask. 
What has he said? 
"Sweetheart," he says, focusing very hard on sounding solid, "a friend is the last thing I want from you." 
"Could've fooled me… Hey, you wanna know a secret?" 
"What?" 
You lean in close, smelling of perfume, your face undeniably touchable. "I heard from somebody who heard from somebody else that they're kicking Tony Martin to the curb." 
He blinks. "Sabbath?" 
"Uh-huh." 
"Why the fuck would they do that?" 
"Think on it, baby." 
If he couldn't smell the flowery punch of your perfume, or see the individual lashes that shield your waterline, he'd definitely think you were a dream. You're here, and you're talking to him like you like him, looking at him like you did, you cruel, awful thing, that day at Monsters of Rock when he'd pressed you up against a wall and kissed you until his lips burned. You'd kissed back. You'd responded, your lips pressing against his with more enthusiasm than made any sense. 
Now you're calling him baby and telling him secrets, your knees tucked together and the outside of your thigh warming a stripe under his jeans. It feels surreal. Your body heat is sinking into his skin. 
Somebody across the coffee table entices you into conversation. Eddie listens to you talk. Maybe high Eddie is a nicer guy than sober Eddie (unlikely), because you don't seem repulsed by his company. Considering how you left things, your little corner shop spat and his bruising kiss, he hadn't been expecting a warm welcome. 
"Did you–" he starts, insecure and hiding it as best as he can, fingers itching for a cigarette, for something to do, "did you like the flowers?" 
"You already asked me that." You peek down at his beer. "Could I have that?" 
He hands it over numbly. 
"It's not a good idea, you know? Drugs and drink, mixing them together. It messes with your heart," you tell him. 
"Don't act all innocent," he says. 
"No, I know, I'm not trying to lecture you 'cause I do shit I shouldn't do, but– you looked one bump from a heart attack. Seriously." 
"Why do you care?" 
You laugh. Your nose wrinkles. "I don't know." 
It's not the answer he wanted, but it's the one he deserves. 
He's spent weeks talking to himself, imagining conversations between you both. He's memorised defences, shamefully readied a few insults in case you'd prepared your own, but nothing comes to mind now. He's speechless. 
You drink his beer and he thinks about how his lips had been at the mouth of it not ten minutes ago. It shouldn't matter. You've already kissed him. It shouldn't. 
"I don't think I took what I meant to," he admits. 
"Me neither. Morgan said they've been cutting with procaine around the hills. Did you get super numb?" 
He can't remember. He doesn't want to talk about any of this with you. "I heard you on the radio." 
"You did?" 
"You were scared." 
"No." You tear the tab off of the beer and put it in his hand. "I like high Eddie, he’s honest." 
"I'm not, really…" 
"Should see your pupils." 
Maybe he is, then. That could explain why he keeps saying what he's thinking without pausing to check if it sounds cool. He has his defences up to the ceiling usually, wouldn't ever let you or anybody else in, not here. 
He's staring at you. 
You brush the side of his arm with your fingernails. 
"Why are you being so nice to me?" he asks. 
Your small smile flattens into a line. "I don't know, Eddie. Who are you gonna tell? Who'd believe you? As far as the tabloids and- and our friends are aware, we hate each other." 
"It didn't feel like you hated me." 
"I didn't."
"But you do now?" 
You stand up. Eddie gets caught in your smile, charming with something worse lurking beneath. You brush the hair out of his face and station your hands at the base of his neck, dropping your head toward his ear. 
"Not telling," you whisper.
He thinks for a moment you're gonna kiss him, his ear or his neck, but you scratch his scalp lightly and leave as he's getting to grips with the feeling of your breath against his skin. 
Dolly Floor, California, December 1990 
Dolly Floor is a club in West Hollywood frequented by movie stars. You're pretty sure you only get in because of Morgan's snow trail incident months ago, and you almost wish they'd sent you packing when you see how densely hedged it is inside. The temperature hikes up with every step you take inside, and soon Morgan's dropping your wrist in favour of one of her friends across the way, leaving you totally alone. 
You're dressed in too much clothing for the occasion, a dress with sleeves and a leather jacket that isn't yours, big boots to protect your feet from crushing crowds. Morgan had thrown a pair of kitten heels at you in frustration. For once you'd told her no. She's been oddly friendly lately, letting you do as you please with nothing more than an irritated huff, and so you've got tights and socks alike stuffed into your shoes — you're sick of aches and pains. 
If anybody steps on your toes tonight, you're going home. 
The air is thick with humidity, exhaled breath, the scent of alcohol explaining the stickiness under your footsteps. You don't know many people, but you know Dornie and, irritatingly, half of Corroded Coffin, so you beeline for the band where they're holed up at the back and hope one of them will give you a drink. 
There's gotta be thirty different people hanging out. How they can hear each other talk is a mystery. Dornie puts his arm out when he sees you and you slide into his side, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his pale cheek. 
"Careful," he says, "you'll make someone jealous." 
You're affectionate with Dornie 'cause he's nice. Just plain nice, which is hard to find in Hollywood. He's the very first friend you've made that's yet to break your heart, and better, he hasn't tried to sleep with you.
Not that you think you're some unresistable notch. 
"Who'd be jealous of me?" you ask. 
"Of me." He rubs your shoulder through leather. "It's good to see you, doll. Your chin's healing up nice, yeah? Or is it make-up?" 
He taps your chin. 
It unlocks a reluctant memory, the shadow of a different hand, heavy with intoxication but painstakingly gentle. 
"It's a bit of make-up," you admit, lifting your chin so he can see it. 
"Still, it's getting better. How are your knees?" 
Hiding behind your tights. "They're gnarly. Doesn't hurt to walk much now though." 
Dornie grins. He has a pretty smile with white wonky teeth and three lip rings on one side. His hair is shorn short, unlike most of the guys here rocking hair to the ears or even longer. His eyes are a light brown, emphasising the bruising bags under his eyes. He looks tired. 
"Don't look, but I'm getting some serious glarage from your favourite guitarist." 
"You're my favourite guitarist," you say, and you mean it. His arm is a comforting weight. It feels so good to have a friend. 
"Your second favourite." 
You step completely into Dornie's view and look up at him. "How's he look now?" 
"Chilling. Want me to guide you over to the bar like we're lovers?" 
"Don't say it like that." 
Dornie pulls you across the floor back to the bar, where blessed cool air seeps down from the air-conditioning and the drinks leave pools of condensation the second they're put down. Dornie buys you a mystery cocktail that tastes more like water than juice. You sip at it happily, using your more neutral vantage point to get a good look at Eddie. 
He's sprawled against a booth wall with one arm behind his head, a cigarette sending smoke up to the wall. He looks better than the last time you'd seen him. There's colour in his cheeks, though that might be the lighting. Dolly Floor is a strange venue, like a strip club without the workers, or a restaurant without food. It doesn't feel like a club, but there's a small stage around the corner from the bar where good music plays live, and it doesn't take much convincing for Dornie to come and watch the show with you for a bit. Some of his friends join you, a woman called Natalie, a man named Matfield, and they're both as nice as he is. 
"We heard the new record!" Matfield says across the high table, the golden watch on his wrist a beacon under the reflections of the harsh stage lights. 
"Hated it?" you ask. 
He chuckles. "All the screaming isn't for me, baby, but that shit doesn't matter. It was good. How's it doing?" 
"I honestly haven't looked," you say, opening your box of Newports and offering them out like candy. Everybody takes one. 
"Better not to know tonight," Natalie says agreeably, her perfect black hair curled toward her face like a seraphim shifting as she leans in for a light. "All you have to do is celebrate." 
You'd wanted, foolishly, to celebrate with the girls. Ananya had dipped as soon as she could and you get it, she has her own friends, but Morgan knocking the door of your room had been a great relief. If at least one of them wants to spend time with you, that's enough. Only, Morgan had made it clear as she was sifting through your clothes that she was going to try and find, "like, someone who's actually interesting." You'd taken it about half as personally as you would've a few months ago. 
Hence Dornie. You'd called him on the landlines and he'd said, "Yeah, babe, I'll meet you there." 
Thank whatever's watching for Dornie. 
He buys you another drink and then another, says your money's no good and tonight's about you. His friends are great, including you in all their jokes and smiles, and when the lights go down and the music gets louder you head out onto the glowing tiles and dance with them. 
Eddie finds you not long after. Slinking up from your peripherals, hand in his pocket. 
"What Eddie am I seeing tonight? The nice one?" 
Eddie doesn't flinch at your sudden question. "You look good." 
He'd approached from the left. You'd felt it rather than heard him, and you'd guessed right. He steps further into view, not smiling, not not smiling. He looks good too. 
"I heard the album." 
You hate how much you care. "Yeah?" 
"It was good. It wasn't metal, but it was good." 
You're laughing before he's even finished, turning away from him in a feigned sense of superiority. I don't care what you think. 
Eddie doesn't grab you. You wouldn't care if he did. He follows by your elbow and says, "Come on, you know it isn't." 
"Just 'cause it doesn't sound rooted in the 70s," you say with a smile. 
"That's the whole point. It's baseless, there's nothing traditional in it. It isn't metal, but it's rock, and it's good, and–" 
"Slow down, Munson. A girl'd think you liked her." 
"I'm objective." 
"You're not."
"I'm not, but my opinions are right. Everybody says that, but when I do it's true, so…"
You look at him properly. He looks present in a way he hasn’t before in front of you. There’s a total clarity behind his eyes that you yourself don’t have tonight. He looks sober. Not that you thought he was an addict, not that you didn’t. There’s a certain blasé attitude to substance abuse when you get a kick of fame. Everybody has something in their pocket and you’ll admit to buying into it, taking stuff you shouldn’t in unfamiliar places. You know, of course, that drugs are fucking dangerous. But you hadn’t been freaked out by them until the other night, when you bumped into Eddie outside of the bathroom in Dornie’s friend’s house and he hadn’t recognised you for a solid ten seconds. 
He’s chewing on nothing. 
“I didn’t do it to hold over you,” you say.
“What?”
“Look after you. It wasn’t… I mean, I wasn’t making fun of you. And I’m not gonna tell anybody.”
“Generous.” His eyes narrow subtly. 
“So if that’s what you’re doing.” You look down to his neck where a silver chain rests, thin, new and hidden under his shirt. “Checking to make sure, I’m not.”
“You think I’m here to make sure you don’t tattle?”
You’re too tipsy to feel embarrassed. “You’re here to buy me a drink, then. I want a cherry margarita with extra shiny cherries and all the salt on the rim, please. Please,” you add, because the second one hadn’t felt polite enough. 
Eddie nods and half turns. “Shiny cherry?” he asks. You almost miss it, his soft tone nearly lost in the noise.
“Maraschino… they’re pink.”
“You’re not gonna come with me?”
“Get lost often?” 
Eddie holds his hand out. You’re supposed to think of how his hand looks, his callouses, his rings, the cut across his thumb, the size and length of his fingers. You think about them enough when he isn’t around, but now, right now, your heart thuds against your chest. Your thoughts are a mess until they aren’t — hold his hand. You put your fingers against his palm and he squeezes them together like he’s collected them, tugging you out of the crowd and across the room to the slick black bar. 
You’re still angry with him. You’re wounded, knife to the gut and all the red blood because he’d been right, you’re a dog, you do what people tell you to, you’re doing it right now, but then he squeezes your hand with a light enough pressure that you’re sure you’ve imagined it until he does it again, leaning up against the bar as he gives your order. “Extra cherries,” he says to the barkeep with a smile, letting your hand go in favour of his own drink. 
The crowd surges with a new song and people brush your calves as they walk around you. You and Eddie stay at the bar. He sips on a bottle of water. You wait for your margarita. 
“Your cut’s healing up,” he says. 
You try not to notice your touching arms. “It was bad, right? It must’ve been. You felt so sorry for me,” —the words burn— “you sent me the biggest bouquet I’ve ever gotten in my life.”
“I didn’t feel sorry for you, sweetheart, can you read?”
“Between the lines, yes,” you say, nodding your head once, emphatic as you accept your margarita. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t feel sorry for you. Felt bad for you-“ He holds up a pale palm. “My fault an’ all, I’ll try to be less daydream worthy.”
“I wasn’t thinking about you. Did you see it? She tripped me up with her mic doing a shitty Stevie Nicks impression.”
“Wrong genre.”
You laugh at him. “Exactly! That’s the point.”
“Yeah, I saw it.” 
You raise your eyebrows. Eddie’s head tips forward and his hair hides his cheeks, the subtlest impression of his cheekbones lost to a curtain of curls. He twists one of his rings around his finger.
“She- You should be more careful,” he says. 
Everything’s raw with him, criticism most of all, but you’re feeling generous. You fish one of your shiny cherries from the margarita glass, surprised to find its stalk intact, and break the delicate skin between your teeth. You mull over what he’s saying as the sweet flavour aches in your jaw. You could’ve been more cautious. You’d been having fun, and you’d thought you could trust the people you work with to have your back. It was a little silly to assume; neither Morgan nor Ananya have ever shown you much second thought.
“Yeah, I think I should be,” you say finally, putting the cherry stalk in your mouth.
“What are you doing?”
You ignore him and try to tie a cherry stem knot. You keep trying until you think you’ve got it. You pull the stem from your tongue. 
“Shit,” you curse, glaring at the curved stem. “Thought I had it.”
Eddie grins and leans into your space, fingers quick to pinch a cherry from your margarita. 
He brings it to your mouth. You keep your lips pressed closed and search his face for a trick. Nothing peaks out, not a hint of cruelty to his pinked lips or flush of soft lashes. You try not to breathe as you open your mouth, and Eddie pushes the round of the cherry over your bottom lip slowly. 
You bite down. 
Eddie takes your stalk and places it on his own tongue. He closes his mouth, and within five seconds he’s taking out a knitted stem with a prideful buzz about him. Any smugness he’d held dissipates. He looks adorable. 
“Beat you,” he says. 
“Arrogant doesn’t suit you.”
“Arrogant absolutely suits me,” he argues, the corners of his lips twitching up, up, up. He’s smiling so much. He reminds you of somebody. “Sore loser doesn’t suit you.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
“What’s that mean?” you repeat. “I smile at you across a stage set and you push me up against a wall.”
“Smile? That’s what you’d call that?”
You’re facing each other now. Eddie inches closer as he speaks, each word said with a precision that can’t be unpracticed. “I’m playing in front of near enough a hundred thousand people, kind of crowd I fucking dreamed of as a kid, in front of actual real life rockstars, and you stroll up to side stage dressed like–”
He cuts himself off. An olive branch. A stopper. A dam. His inhale infuriates you. 
“No, go on. Dressed like what, superstar?”
“Like a fucking groupie.” 
You know he’s only said it to try and get a rise out of you. He knows that you know. He looks like he wants to take it back. 
You want him to push it further. 
“And you liked it,” you say, angry. Quiet. “You liked it and you couldn’t get a handle on it.”
“No,” he says, knowing what you’re implying, voice hot and fast, “I kissed you because I knew you wanted me to. I knew what it would do to you.”
“I wanted you to?” you ask. 
“Didn’t you?”
“I wanted to mess with your head ‘cause you fucking harsssed me–”
He cuts you off, “You wanted to mess with me because you hated that I was right about you. Not everything, but enough. Those girls treat you like shit. And you let them, or you’ll be the next Millyana, sitting at home watching the rest of us on TV wondering why you couldn’t make it out.” Something in his expression flickers like a rubber band has struck his skin. 
“I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time, you mean it. You worked hard to get here, had people treat you a whole heap worse than Eddie’s hot and cold, than Ananya's indifference and Morgan’s narcissism. Hours in buses with your neck craned against a short ceiling scribbling music and days toeing the line with a guitar falling apart in your hands. You scrimped and saved and starved for this. 
Eddie smiles at you. For the second time that night, he looks like somebody else. 
“I know,” he says. “I think we’re finally on the same page.”
Eddie buys you another drink. Your tipsiness had felt so far away when things got heated, but now your bubbly smile is back, and you’re actually talking to him. About music, sure, but the movies, the weather, the fancy apartments the record company put you up in. 
“Finally got my own room so Ananya can stop complaining about the noise,” you say with a wink. 
He chokes on his water. “The noise?”
“I’m a very dedicated player.”
You let a small silence pervade before bursting into giggles, hand patting his upper arm. “I’m kidding! She gets mad ‘cos I’m trying to learn YYZ but it is so, so hard.”
“Shit is hard,” he says. “Do you even have time for that? You start touring again in a month, maybe you should, you know, slack off?”
“No, because if I’m doing nothing I’m nothing.”
Eddie — fuck fuck fuck — shouldn’t pry. 
“You’re not nothing.”
You wrinkle your nose at him and he loves when you do it. It’s not cute, really, but everything you do is cute in a way he refuses to unpack. “No, I’m not, I don’t know why I said that.”
“I get it, though. You feel like… maybe it's all gonna stop one day. Wake up with a bad case of the yips and no matter how good you were…”
“Yeah.” You take a very noisy slurp of margarita. “I’m so afraid that I’m gonna be nothing that I can’t stop.”
Eddie throws his gaze around the room. It’s no coincidence that your friend Dornie keeps looking his way; the night is winding down and there’s barely anybody dancing. It’s home time. 
“You won’t be nothing,” he says, easing the margarita out of your hands. He might’ve bought you one too many. “I’m sorry for, uh, getting you drunk.”
“I got myself at least three parts there. Out of five.”
“At least three parts,” he agrees.
He wants, very badly, to touch your face. Hold your cheek in his palm. “Hey,” he says lightly. “Uh, you got something. On your cheek.”
You brush your dewy skin with an embarrassed look about you, shoulder risen and eyes all droopy with booze. “Here?”
“Higher.”
He watches you scrub at nothing. He’s tricking you. He feels awful. 
“Still haven’t got it?”
“‘Fraid not, baby.”
“You get it.” You brandish your cheek.
Eddie keeps a good distance. He knows what he’s doing is weird, he just wants to touch you for a second. He rubs the pad of his thumb down your face, tracing the path of a tear you haven’t shed. Eye to chin. 
“You’re good,” he says, dropping his hand. 
“Thank you.”
You’re slurring. He thinks you’re more tired than you are tipsy (though you are, undeniably, inebriated), and he wonders where all the time went, how it’s suddenly been an hour with you and your conversation. There’d been a moment where he thought he’d fucked it and your eyes had shone with hurt, but you’re smiling, he’s smiling, and Dornie looks aggrieved. All good things.
“I think you better get going,” he murmurs. 
“Sick of me?” you ask, not teasing. 
“No. Your friend’s waiting for you.” 
You look over your shoulder and your smile glows. You start babbling about how that’s your friend Dornie (he knows, you’ve only told him five times) and how Dornie is sooooo nice. You deserve somebody being nice to you right from the start. Eddie’s trying to make it right but he’s said some shit he can’t take back. He wants you to have someone who’s a hundred percent sweet on you, he just doesn’t wanna have to hear the adoration in your voice when you talk about it. 
Eddie’s a dick. Self-admitted. 
You go home with an arm looped around Dornie’s waist. (Dornie said high-pitched, wide-eyed.) Eddie pulls a handful of bills from his wallet to pay for the drinks he’d bought, stuffing the change in a tip jar on the way back to the dregs of the coffin crew. Jamison’s long gone and Jeff didn’t wanna come, but Gareth’s smoking a cigarette with another guy’s hand mysteriously lapward. 
He clears his throat. “I’m going home and taking the car.”
“Wait for me?”
Eddie cringes. “Sure.”
Eddie sits in the car. One hand on the wheel, the other in his pocket. He thinks about tonight, your hair, your smile, the way your arm had brushed up against his. He wonders if this is the right move. Eddie’s not mad at you anymore for forgetting who he was, for your teasing at the Prover Theatre or your rookie comments. And Monsters of Rock, that had been half spite and half bravado. Spur of the moment bravery. Idiocy. Yeah he’d kissed you to piss you off, but he’d also done it because he wanted to. 
He sighs and takes your discarded pull tab out of his pocket. He thumbs the rounded edge, thinking harder than one guy should ever think about anything that isn’t metal. Shit, he thinks. I gotta go home.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
note: they are not done hating each other I am just warming up! thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3
1K notes · View notes
Text
First Day Jitters (Pornstar!Bakugou x Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot) 
Tumblr media
"Tell me what you like."
Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader (Costars to Lovers) 
Synopsis: In which you spend your first day on the job as a pornstar with your favorite adult film persona in front of the cameras and are shown what it’s really like fucking with a pro. 
Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Adult!Bakugou (he’s in his late 20s/early 30s); Reader's Race is Not Specific; Pornstar!Bakugou; Pornstar!Reader; Anxiety Comfort; Flirting; Sex on Camera; Verbal Consent/Cues; Mild BDSM; Dirty Talk; Foreplay; Fingering; Edge Play; Daddy Kink; Cunnilingus; Analingus; Deepthroating; Ball Sucking; Hair-pulling; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Doggystyle; Cum Facial; Aftercare
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer’s Note: Okay. So I was watching a porn video a couple days ago & started thinking about Bakugou as one of the actors. Then I came up with this one. Enjoy & go touch some fucking grass! Luv y’all! -Jazz 
**********
Tumblr media
The lights are so bright. The actors never tell you how bright the lights are when they’re in a scene. 
But standing here now, in the gorgeous, expensive-looking bedroom where you’re starting your first job as a pornstar, you realize how blinding the overhead lights really are. Actually, everything seems a lot brighter and sharper now––the cameras; the behind the scenes crew; the morning sun pouring through the balcony window onto the king-sized bedroom. 
The location for this particular shoot is absolutely gorgeous. The estate’s lawn is nothing but rolling hills and beautiful flowers while the house–which is really a fucking castle–is filled with smooth, marbled floors, dozens of bedrooms, a backyard pool, and expensive art hung upon the walls. The estate you’re at is apparently owned by a fancy country club. After pulling some strings, Jirou, the director for this shoot and one of the most prominent female porn directors in the industry, managed to snag it for the shoot. 
You would’ve felt way more comfortable without the activity swarming you as soon as you arrived at 9AM on the dot: cameras; lights; boom mics; a director’s chair; stylists, cameramen, a sound crew, and other employees making sure this whole shoot goes right. You didn't realize so much went into making one porn video. 
Jirou comes up to you then, startling you in your breezy sundress and slides. She looks stressed, running a hand through her dark purple bob. “Thank goodness you’re here on time, Y/N,” she sighs. “It’s good you’re so punctual. That’ll do you good in this industry.” 
“Thank you,” you softly mutter because you’re not sure what else to say. “Is my co-star here? I didn’t see him when I came in.” You’ve been here for almost an hour and haven’t seen him anywhere in the house. 
Jirou huffs, checking her phone once again. “Not yet. He’s stuck in traffic. Your makeup and hair stylist isn’t here yet either! She’s supposed to be here before the star; not after!” She pinches the bridge of her nose, dark, shiny nail polish coating her fingernails. 
You clutch your bag closer to you, nervous butterflies fluttering about. Her frustrations are only making you more nervous. A part of you hopes that all of this goes to shit so you don’t have to go through with it today. Maybe you rushed to fast into this. Maybe you should’ve told your management team that a porn shoot isn’t the way to go to get your name out there yet. Shit, you’re already in the industry! Your cam girl persona is the most well-known one on the internet and off! 
You’ve been a cam girl for over five years now, making erotic role-play videos for horny viewers on the other side of your screen. In those five years, you’ve gained recognition for your creative role-play content and even an award for “Erotic Performer of the Year of 2022” after one of your videos gained over ten million views (and counting!). It was a video where you’re sitting in front of a black backdrop, naked, and in only a chair where the camera zooms in on your body and moves to give the illusion as if one of your viewers is there fucking you. You had worked with a small tech company to accomplish the special effects and gave them all their props in your acceptance speech. 
Since then, it’s been nothing but blessings––money in the bank, more views on your videos, and the ability to upgrade your content with better costumes, wigs, and equipment. However, you weren’t expecting to be reached out to by one of the biggest porn companies in Japan. A month ago, a consultant at Divine Productions emailed you, asking if you could meet with them and the head of the company for a meeting. 
You especially weren’t expecting them to want to hire you to join their team of models. “You’re a visionary!” the head had told you, making you flush in your seat. “Your content is incredible as are your ability to draw your audience into your videos. Plus, you’re not bad on the eyes. We’d love for you to join us!”
That’s when they presented you with a contract: a five-year deal with them, unless you decide to leave early or stay with them, where all the money gained for each video you star in will go to you. You practically jumped at the chance! 
Since then, you’ve been given your own management team who books all of your videos for you (with your say, of course) and makes sure you get every cent promised to you. Now, here you are, a month later, about to make your first porno with another star that you’ve never met before…not to mention that he’s one of the biggest pornstars in the industry and one that you have the most embarrassing crush on. 
You’re taken out of your thoughts when the bedroom door slams open, revealing Mina jogging in with her bouncy, pink curls and red face. “And there she is,” Jirou mutters, scowling at the girl. 
Mina immediately drops her cosmetics case and bag, heaving. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late, Jirou!” she abruptly apologizes. “A tire blew on my car, so I had to Uber here. I’ve got proof too!” She pulls out her phone and shows you and Jirou a photo of her pink car’s deflated tire. “It just blew out as soon as I hit the highway,” she sighs. “I got it towed though.” 
Jirou goes to tell her off, but a sharp sound from the ceiling stops her. Two of the crew members are there trying to fix the lights, leaving them one of them broken.
“Dammit, Denki!” Sero groans, on a latter beneath his blonde coworker. “I said on your right! That’s left!” Denki glares at down at him from at the top of the latter. “Hey, you try doing this shit when these are dangling from the fucking ceiling!” he argues. 
Jirou groans, rolling her eyes. More shit for her to stress over. You honestly feel bad. “You get a pass this time, Mina,” she says, narrowing her eyes at the stylist. “And you’re lucky Bakugou isn’t here yet. Just get Y/N in a seat and get her camera ready, or else it’s your head.” She then proceeds to strut away in her heeled boots, hollering at Sero and Denki for fucking up her lights. 
“You got it!” Mina calls after her. She turns to you with a smile. “She doesn’t really mean that,” she giggles. “I’m the best at my job and she knows it. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting though.” You smile kindly at her apologetic attitude, liking her already. “It’s fine, really.” 
Shen then gathers her things and nods towards the bedroom door. “C’mon, honey; let’s get you in a chair and make you even more beautiful than you already are.”
She takes you out into the hallway where you change into a robe, sit in your actor’s chair, and watch as she brings out her hair tools and makeup products. You feel like a movie star…in a way. She first begins her magic by priming your face, her fingers massaging your skin gently yet expertly. Then she moves onto your eyebrows, first using a pencil to outline them and then moving onto filling them in. 
As you sit there, still and quiet, you catch the eye of a familiar and very cute freckled face. Deku, the intern currently working at Jirou’s company, comes up to you with a wheeled cart of breakfast with a booklet under his arm. “Good morning, Ms. L/N!” he chirps. “I’ve got your script here and complimentary breakfast if you didn’t eat. There’s muffins, pastries, coffee…” 
He runs down the best of the breakfast as he passes you your script and leaves Bakugou’s on his chair next to yours. You met Deku when you spoke to Jirou at her office about being in her video alongside Bakugou, whom you’d be meeting for the first time today. He had signed you in and walked you to Jirou’s office, being so kind, professional, and oh-so cute. 
“Oh, thank you, Deku,” you giggle as Mina begins to blend out the counselor around your brows. “By the way, I told you that you don’t have to call me that. Call me Y/N, or even [Your Pornstar Name].” 
His face grows beat red, making Mina snort. “W-Well, I’d prefer calling you by your last name,” he softly stutters. “It’s just more respectful. Plus, I’m sure you get called by your surname all the time already.” 
Mina snickers from above you, busying herself blind out your eyebrows with a brush. “Soon, the whole world will know her as that.” 
“Ugh, don’t,” you groan. “I’m so nervous, I could throw up.” Even as you stare at the script in your lap, you feel your stomach lurch. “I’ve got a trash can right here for that!” Deku shouts, immediately shooting for the trash can sitting next to you. 
Mina stops him as you begin to laugh, some of your nerves ebbed. “Let me worry about that, intern. You just worry about getting that coffee to Jirou before she throws a fit.” 
You practically see Deku’s stomach drop into his ass at the mention of his boss. “R-Right,” he says. He picks up a paper cup on the table and fills it with coffee before turning to you. “Well, good luck today, Ms…er, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do great today.” He offers you a shy smile that makes him look even more adorable. “Thanks, Deku,” you softly reply with a smile. “I know you will too. You seem like a great employee so far.” 
Deku’s smile grows wider as his cheeks grow redder. Mina rolls her eyes, bumping him out of the way. “Alright, stop flirting,” she playfully demands. “She needs to do that to her costar…unless you want to ask Katsuki to switch with you.” She looks over her shoulder at the intern. His smile fades and turns so red that you’re sure steam will come out of his ears. 
With a stutter, he races off to the bedroom to give Jirou her coffee while the stylist laughs. 
“God, I love it when he gets flustered! It’s so fucking cute!” You giggle with her and then begin to read your script as you pluck a pastry off of the table to chomp on. You didn’t eat breakfast. Your nerves were getting the best of you. 
As you begin to read over the script and memorize them, Mina starts on your eyeshadow, giving you a nice, sparkly peach color to bring out the color of your eyes. “So it’s really your first time being in a porn video?” she asks as she begins to blend in your eyeshadow. “You were a cam girl before this, right?” 
“Yeah, and that was fun, but the money was cutting it anymore,” you sheepishly confess. “So when I got that contract offer from Divine Productions and it being one of the biggest porn companies in Japan, I decided to take it. Apparently, the head saw my account and thought I had potential to make a name for myself in the industry.” 
You stare down at your script, gripping the pages. “I didn't think I’d get my first scene offer with Dynamight, of all people.” Mina looks down at you, smirking knowingly. “You a fan?” she giggles. You flush at her knowing gaze. “Does it show?” you softly ask. 
Mina coos to herself as she gathers a pack of false lashes. “It’s adorable!” she exclaims, making you even hotter in your robe. 
The truth is you’re a big time fan of Dynamight. You have been for several years now. He, too, was a cam boy and would upload his content onto XVideos, Pornhub, and a cam site you eventually signed up for to jumpstart your career. You were immediately captivated by his raspy voice huffing out dirty words and those vermillion eyes that peeked through his black mask while his hand lazily stroked his cock. It’d feel like he was speaking to you through your phone and laptop…although that could just be from your pleasured haze as your fingers played with yourself along with him. 
You would always leave anonymous tips for him to which he would thank you for. “Another $15 tip?” he’d chuckle, staring into the camera as if seeing you behind your computer. “Thank you, baby…whoever you are. Y’know, you don’t have to be shy. Shoot me a message one day and maybe I can thank you properly.” The way his voice dipped on that last word and his suggestive smirk nearly had you cumming around your fingers. 
Soon, he didn’t need the tips anymore because he became a big-time pornstar. You became obsessed with him right then. Watching him fuck all of his costars (both men and women), sometimes alone and sometimes in threesomes, foursomes, and freaking orgies, became a treat for you to behold. You dreamed of being underneath him, feeling those big, rough hands on your neck; running your fingers along his tattooed pecs and arms he could break you with; have that heavy, thick, gorgeous cock fucking you stupid and filling up your mouth. 
And now, finally and crazily, you’ll finally get to receive everything you’ve dreamed of. Your naughtiest dreams are soon to be a reality…just in front of cameras and other people. 
“Don’t sweat it if your nervous,” Mina says, now moving onto blending your foundation and concealer with a beauty blender, dabbing delicately at your skin. “Katsuki is a real nice guy, though he seems intimidating.” She pauses to smirk at down at you with her glossy, pink lips. “And let me tell you, honey: he’s even better in real life than he is on camera. I know from experience.” 
Your eyes widen in shock at her, your heart leaping. “Oh…were you a pornstar at some point too?” The stylist throws her head back and hollers with laughter. “No way!” she laughs. “I couldn’t make a living fucking all those people on camera back to back. I’m dating Red Riot.” 
You nearly drop your pastry. “Thee Red Riot?” you gasp. He’s another one of your favorite pornstars. He’s just as sexy as Dynamight with his long, red locks and buff body, though you have your bias. 
Mina smiles proudly. “Yep! He and Katsuki are good friends, too. About a year ago, we had a threesome and it was one of the best sexual experiences I’ve ever had. Hearing that raspy voice in my ear while he was fucking me gave me at least four orgasms that night.” She hums wistfully as she continues her work on your makeup. 
As you go back to reading your script and your mind begins to drift off to your own threesome with Dynamight and Red Riot, you’re taken back to reality when you hear footsteps coming up the stairs. “Oh, and look who’s paying us a visit this morning,” Mina giggles. “Good morning, you two.” 
You look up and nearly choke on your breakfast. Standing there, in the flesh, wearing sweats that your eyes are begging to undress and looking completely haggard, is the Dynamight.
He is just as tall, big, and sexy in person. Your eyes drink in his platinum blonde hair styled in an undercut; the piercing above his right brow and the snakebites puncturing his plush bottom lip; his sharp jawline dusted in facial hair; his arms, sinewy with muscle and tattoos that travel up the side of his neck; the way his tank top hangs loosely on his chest, revealing a sliver of his pecs and the golden chair dangling around his neck; his big ass feet in his Nike kicks. 
He’s so fucking fine. When his eyes meet yours, you swear you have an out of body experience. He doesn’t smile or wave at you. He just stares. You’re not too sure what to make of it and nervously bite your lip. Does he like how you look? Is he disappointed? How the fuck are you gonna be able to fuck him on camera if even his stare make you nervous? 
Kirishima aka Red Riot comes up behind him in a tight red V-neck and jeans, standing a whole head taller than his friend and costar. “Good morning to you,” he purrs, wrapping an arm around Mina’s waist and pecking her lips. “It’s definitely a good morning now. Oooh, breakfast!” He moves to the cart and plucks a bagel off, not even seeing you. 
Katsuki wanders up to the cart too, scowling at the cart suspiciously. “That nerd come back here?” he grumbles. He plucks a paper cup from the cart and stands it underneath the Keurig set up with a silver container of coffee pods. Mina hums in an answer, still dabbing at your cheeks and temple. “He dropped off your script for today’s scene too, for you and your costar.” 
Once again, Katsuki’s vermillion eyes shoot to yours, nearly making your lungs given out. 
Kiri scowls in confusion, staring off into space. “Costar?” he parrots. He whips around to face you and nearly drops his bagel. “Shit, I’m so, so sorry! I just walked right by you and didn't even see you. That’s so unmanly of me.” He walks toward you, practically becoming an eclipse with how big he is. “I’m Kiri,” he says, offering his hand for a shake. “But I’m known as Red Riot.” 
“I know you,” you giggle, shaking his hand. “And it’s fine. I’m Y/N aka [Camgirl Name].” He begins to chomp on his bagel, his eyes sparkling. “You’re that cam girl, right? Yeah, I’ve seen your face before!”  
Katsuki suddenly comes walking up to you with his coffee cup now full, a plastic lid on top of it. “Don’t let Mina go crazy on you with all that makeup,” he gruffly says, bumping Mina out of the way. She scoffs, planting a hand on her hip while Kiri laughs. “You don’t need too much else.” 
Your body flushes hot at his words. Does that mean he thinks you’re pretty? Finally, he extends his hand to you and you realize that he wants a handshake. “Dynamight,” he introduces. “Just call me Katsuki.” 
Willing your hand not to shake, you shake his bigger, calloused one, imagining it around your neck. “N-Nice to meet you,” you stutter. A crooked smirk plays on his lips as his eyes trail over your body. You feel naked despite the robe. But as soon as the moment comes, it ends. He releases your hand from his and sips his coffee, pulling a disgusted face afterward. “This is fuckin’ decaf,” he growls. “I’m gonna go slug that nerd intern. Where’s he at?” 
Mina nods at the bedroom where you can hear chatter among the crew. Katsuki snatches up his script from his chair and storms in there immediately, his raspy, demanding voice yelling out for Deku. Kiri sits down, replacing his friend in his seat. “I think he likes you,” he whispers, making Mina giggle to herself. “You didn’t hear it from me, but he was kinda excited to work with you on this scene when he found out you’d be his costar. I think he’s a fan.” 
He gives you a wink that only sends those nervous butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. He could be just trying to gas you up or ease your obvious stress, but the idea of Katsuki already knowing who you are and being a fan only makes you want to bolt. “Well, that doesn’t make me any more nervous at all,” you exhale. 
Kiri nods understandably. “I feel you,” he reassuringly replies. “I remember when I had my first scene, and that was a solo one. But I’ve done many scenes with Dynamight and he’s always so good with his female costars.” 
“That’s what I told her!” Mina adds, now moving onto setting your face with some sweat proof setting powder. “He knows how to take care of his girls; especially the new ones.” She smirks down at you to which you avert your eyes from her gaze. 
“You’ll be just fine, sweetheart,” Kiri cheerfully says. “Once you actually start it, the cameras, lights, and people will fall away.” You stare down at your script and stare so hard at the printed words that your vision becomes blurry. “I hope you’re right.” 
Kiri pats you on the arm comfortingly. “Trust me; just ask Dynamight! He’ll definitely give you some advice, too.” A knock on the wall turns your attention to one of the crew members who stands in the doorway of the bedroom. “We’re starting in about 15 minutes,” he says. 
Fifteen minutes? Your stomach flips and your mind begins to go into panic mode. You’re not ready. You barely remember your lines! Quickly, you skim over them again, even mouthing them while Mina continues to finish beautifying you. Finally, after applying a layer of pink gloss to your lips and some setting spray, she finishes in seven minutes. “And there we go!” she announces. “You’re camera ready, honey.” 
She gives you a mirror to see how you look. You gasp at the woman staring back at you with her faux, doll-like lashes, rouge-blush cheeks, and soft, plump lips slick with gloss. You look beautiful. Hot. Sexy. Amazing. Any other adjective you can think of. Mina giggles at your reaction as she hustles you out of your seat. “Now, let’s get you dressed and this sexy ass out there so your costar can see for himself.” 
After quickly disrobing and putting on your outfit–a mini sundress and platform sandals––you’re led into the bedroom where Jirou and Katsuki stand, waiting for you. Katsuki’s vermillion eyes flash with something identifiable when they land on you. You have no idea to wonder what it is, because Jirou is immediately pulling you over with her own copy of the script. 
“There you are!” she sighs, exasperated. “Okay, so you both read over the script and know how this goes: Y/N, you’re a wife who is feeling horny after her husband left on a business trip; you’ve been seeing his best friend in secret and invite him over for a while; boom, you two fuck. But I was thinking in between that, you two could have a conversation about what you like, especially you, Y/N.” 
You blink at her, your mind slowly processing her words. “Like kinks and stuff?” Jirou nods, looking happy that you understand what she means. “Exactly that! I’ve gotta give credit to Katsuki since it was his idea first, since you’re new and everything. It’d give him a chance to get to know you so this scene is as natural-looking as possible.” 
You turn to Katuski, who is already blankly staring at you, in shock. Suddenly, you start to believe that Mina and Kiri were right about him taking care of "his girls”. “Thanks,” you softly murmur. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “It’s whatever,” he deadpans. “You’re my costar, right? I’ve gotta take care of you, too.” 
Okay. Now you’re sure that Kiri and Mina are right. His words make your pussy clench in your panties, your body affected by his statement. It’s nice to see someone take such responsibility in his costars in such a wolfish industry, but it’s even hotter to see a man be so adamant about making a woman’s safety and comfort his top priorities; not just his money.
Jirou goes back to giving you the rundown, not even aware of the way you’re eye-fucking your costar. “Now, for the script, you don’t have to remember every single word; just enough to get the point across to the viewers. Feel free to toss some improv in there. You’re lookin’ at the king of improv here.” She nods at Katsuki who smirks cockily at her. You had a feeling that most of the lines he’d whisper in videos that had you cumming all over your fingers or vibrator weren't scripted. 
Jirou suddenly looks somewhere above your head, irked. “Fuck, that light isn’t right,” she hisses. “You two head to your posts and then we can start.” She stomps away from you, leaving you standing alone with Katsuki. You feel small standing beside him with how big he is. Not to mention how good he smells––like vanilla and cloves. You want to just push your face into his big pecs and motorboat him just to coat yourself in his scent; just to feel him. 
“Nervous?” he asks. His intense, vermillion eyes stare into you. You flush, a nervous smile stretching onto your lips. “It shows, huh?” you sheepishly chuckle. “A little, yeah. I’m sorry.” 
A confused scowl crosses his face. “What do you have to be sorry about?” he asks. “It’s your first day. Nervousness is normal.” Though his reassurance is comforting, you still feel that flip of anxiousness deep in the pit of your stomach. “I’m guessing you’ve never fucked another person on camera before?” he asks. The brazenness and vulgarity of his question stuns you, despite it being exactly what it is: getting fucked on camera. 
“Uh, no,” you confess. “Just me, and it definitely wasn’t as intense or expensive-looking as this.” You wave a hand over the bedroom, cameras, and lights. “O-Or with a pro,” you murmur. 
Katsuki raises his pierced brow at you, making him look even more attractive. “So you know of me,” he probes, a tiny smile lilting at his lips. You try to hide your embarrassment and come up with a lie on the fly that doesn’t make you look like a horny girl with a crush on her favorite pornstar. “How could I not?” you retort. “Anyone in this industry knows who you are. You’re, like, a veteran!” 
He chortles, the sound oh-so sexy. “As much as I appreciate the love, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about. I’ve seen your little role-play videos and you seem like you’ve got what it takes to be on camera.” You blink at him, his words slowly processing in your head. “You’ve…watched my videos?” you carefully ask. 
Now it’s Katsuki’s turn to be nervous. A light blush coats his cheeks and he rubs the back of his neck, the facade of an overly-confident man waning. You think you like this side of him more. “A few here and there, yeah, just to get familiar with you. To be honest, I had never heard of you before until my management told me you’d be my costar in this scene.” 
Still, the idea of him watching your videos fills you with joy and pride, especially since he liked what he saw. Confidence floods within you and a tiny smirk pulls onto your glossed lips. 
“Well, you’ve got any advice for a rookie, Dynamight?” you purr. 
Katsuki doesn’t look like he catches onto your demeanor chance, but if he does, he acts like he doesn’t notice. He pauses, pressing his tongue against his cheek as he thinks of a good answer. “Just look at your costar and nothing else,” he finally replies. “When you do that, everything else fades away…and pretend that everyone is naked.” You giggle at the last one, your laugh making him smile in delight at the sound. 
“Okay!” Jirou shouts, making you jump. She’s so loud that she doesn’t need a megaphone. “We’re good to go! Everyone get to your posts and for fuck’s sakes, Deku, bring me a regular coffee! Not decaf!” Poor Deku, standing near a camera by the door, turns beat red. “That’s all they had, miss!” he replies. 
As a crew member comes over to take the scripts from you and Katsuki, your stomach drops into your ass. Here it is. There’s no going back now. Katsuki’s hand slightly brushes against yours as he walks by you. “Good luck,” he whispers, and though he doesn’t smile, he winks one of those intense eyes that haunt your dreams at you. Then he’s walking by and exiting the bedroom to ready for his cue, almost as if you dreamed it. 
Quickly, with limbs like jelly, you go to sit on the edge of the bed like the script tells you to where a book sits for you to pretend to read. You open it and stare down at the pages, becoming more and more distracted as Jirou finally yells, “Action!” You swear, you nearly shit yourself. 
Katsuki must be giving you time to situate and prepare yourself because he doesn’t act immediately. But after about two minutes, a knock comes from the bedroom door. “The door is open!” you call. 
He comes in through the door, acting as if a director, camera crew, and a bunch of bright lights aren’t even there as he struts into the bedroom. “Hey,” he greets. “He ain’t here, right? He left?” 
You swallow harshly, plastering on a smile to disguise your fear. “Yeah,” you reply, just like in the script. “He left for his business trip this morning. You know my husband: can’t sit still for even a minute.” 
Katsuki takes a seat next to you on the bed, moving slowly like you’re a scared wild animal that is soon to either bolt or attack. You know it’s to make sure you’re comfortable and you swear you could kiss him right now. “So what did you call me over here for?” he curiously asks. “Not that I don’t like seein’ your beautiful face, but I thought you wanted to call this quits.” 
You stare down at your hands, gripping your thighs to avoid them shaking. “I'm sorry I called you over here so randomly,” you sigh. “I guess I just got lonely. I originally dove into this relationship with you to express myself and get what I need since my husband can't give it to me.” You press a stressed hand to your temple. “But overtime, I felt horrible and called it quits. Now our sex life is even worse! Even when he’s here, we’re not together that much. He’s always busy with work.” 
Your hand creeps across the bed to lay on Bakugou’s thigh, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Do you think you could help me with that?” you hear yourself asking. You peer up at him through your lashes, trying not to grow nervous at the crooked smirk on his face. “As long as he’s gone, I’d be happy to,” he softly growls. “If that’s what you want.” 
He leans towards you then, moving his hand to cup the back of your neck. You can’t help the sharp hitch of breath that you can't help but make at his touch. “Relax,” he coos into your ear, low enough for the boom mics to not catch. “It’s just a kiss. But tap me twice anywhere on my body if you’re uncomfortable. That’ll be our cue.” 
You give him a reassuring nod and then his lips are on yours. Your head nearly pops off as his pink, pillowy-soft lips and snake bites push into yours, an addictive combination of cold and warm. He tastes like mint gum and a tiny bit of fruit, like he had a smoothie before he came here. It makes him taste so good. You find yourself leaning into his touch, causing him to chuckle into the kiss. “You can touch me, y’know,” he whispers against your mouth. “I’m not off limits, babe.” 
Your stomach flips at the pet name, even as your shaky hands move to touch him. As your mouth voluntarily parts to allow his tongue access to yours, your fingers run over his biceps and pecs; his lower stomach and sides. You moan appreciatively at the hard, toned muscle, relishing at the fact that you get to touch his body after wanting to for so long. The kiss is wet and sloppy, his tongue running lazily against yours and swirling in your mouth. No doubt the cameras are getting all of it, too––every stand of saliva that travels between your mouths. 
When he pulls away, a shiny string of spit connects his plump bottom lip with yours. His vermillion eyes are hooded and blown with lust that you aren’t sure is just acting or actually because you’ve turned him on. “God, you’re such a good kisser,” he groans. “How the fuck did your man leave you unattended when you’re this sexy?” 
Your script only tells you to giggle, so you do, feeling so much like a giddy schoolgirl. His big hands find your hips, coaxing you to stand up between his legs. “Let’s get this dress off,” he softly growls as his fingers trail up the hem of your sundress. You nervously bite your lower lip, but allow him to take off your dress by raising your arms over your head. Once your dress is off and on the floor, it is too late to turn back. 
Though you don't turn around, you’re aware of the cameras, lights, and people behind you, all staring at your semi-naked body. You wear a yellow Savage X Fenty set that brings out the color of your skin and eyes, adoring your skin in lace trim. Katsuki’s eyes graze over your body, making you want to cover yourself and hide. But you don’t. You’ve got a job to do and you can’t disappoint everyone. Especially him. The “him” who is staring up at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. “Goddamn, you’re fine,” he hisses. “And so, so pretty.” 
When his eyes bore into yours and his hands slide up your hips to bring you close, you realize how good he is at acting. But, of course, he’s a pro at this. “Thanks,” you giggle, “but actions speak louder than words for me.” You begin to unhook your bra, his eyes hungrily watching, and your breasts tumble out of your bra cups as your bra loosens its hold on your chest. 
You stand before your costar, reveling in his hungered gaze lingering on your breasts and hardened nipples. He pounces onto you immediately, deliciously gripping one breast while the other is being drenched in his suckles and licks as his tongue laps at one of your hard nipples. 
He alternates between each, palming one if the other has his mouth on it, giving each of your titties equal attention. You moan at the feeling of his hot, wet tongue and the cool metal of his snakebites on your warm skin. Your hands begin to trail in his hair, wandering aimlessly through his blonde locks. “You like that, pretty girl?” he moans against your nipple. “Tell me. Tell me what you like.” 
You whimper as he sucks harshly on your nipple like he’s trying to draw milk out of it. You can feel your panties quickly beginning to dampen between your thighs. You know that this is the point where you tell him all about what you enjoy. “Could you…maybe…pinch them?” you softly ask. “Just lightly, like this.” You demonstrate, pulling away to lightly pinch your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. 
Katsuki mirrors your movements, his eyes hungrily watching as you gasp and arch your back into his touch. “Anything else? What else can I do for you that your man don’t?” He then leans in to suck on your nipple again, coating it in saliva while he pinches and tweaks the other. The mingling sensations of pain and pleasure makes your pussy drip. 
“Um…” You begin to rack your brain for some kinks, your mind quickly becoming blank from the pleasure. “I like being spanked,” you boldly reply. Katsuki looks up at you from between your chest, interested. “And choked. I like it when my hair is pulled while I’m being fucked too.” A smirk pulls onto his lips as his tongue slides up your cleavage, coating your skin in saliva. “Mmm-hmm,” he hums. “What else?” 
He then trails back down to suck on your nipples again, all while taking two fingers and rubbing your clit through your panties. You gasp, your legs parting instinctively to allow him better access. “F-Fuck,” you softly moan, grasping his shoulders for balance. Your knees nearly buckle from the pleasure. “A little DDLG. Degradation, like being called a slut. Getting my face fucked. And facial abuse––like, when a guy slaps his dick against my face and on my tongue. I like facials, too.” 
You begin to flush as your kinks become more devious. Freaky, if you will. “I really like anal play, too,” you murmur, "but if that’s too much–“ 
“So analingus?” he cuts in, raising an eyebrow at you. “Fingering?” He applies pressure to his ministrations against your pussy, having your toes curl in your sandals. “You like your pussy gettin’ spat on?” he purrs, pressing a kiss to your stomach. He sounds so excited, even more as excited as you do realizing how into your kinkiness he is. 
“Yes, yes, and I’ve never had that before, but I’d want to try it.” You look down at into his crimson eyes, shivering at the lust there. “I can do that,” he growls. “Anything you want me to steer clear of?” You being to give him the rundown of everything you don’t like, loving how he nods and keeps his eyes strictly on you. You have his completely and utter attention as a costar now and hopefully in the future. 
Katsuki slides one hand up your hip, looping his fingers through the waistband of your panties. 
“Anything my little girl wants,” he coos. “Now do I have your consent to eat this pussy of yours?” His eyes bore into yours, pinning you to the spot. You swallow harshly, squeaking out a tiny, hoarse “Yes.” 
He pulls at the waistband before letting it snap back into place against your skin, making it sting. You whimper at the slight sting like being hit with a rubber band. “Yes what?” he firmly asks. 
The devious part of you is doing somersaults at such attention and dominance, especially considering that this is your industry crush. Though your throat is dry, you provide him with the answer he wants…and that is in the script: “Y-Yes, Daddy.” 
Katsuki’s nostrils flare as he takes a sharp inhale, the title having an obvious affect on him. “Fuck, I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he groans. And then you’re suddenly on your back, giggling at Katsuki’s sheer strength and his big body as he covers you, peppering your lips in kisses. 
You know you’ll have to thank Kiri for his advice later because an hour into your scene with Katsuki, all of the cameras do fade away. In fact, everything except you and him are gone, fading into nothingness as soon as he gets his mouth on your pussy. His powerful, veiny hands sit under your ass, tilting your pelvis up so he can have perfect access to your sobbing, wet pussy that can't help but gush and cry whenever he moves his tongue against your clit or dips lower to play with your asshole. 
“Fuck, Daddy!” you moan, writhing against the bed. Your hands grip the sheets and your eyes roll into the back of your head, all natural reactions to his wonderful tongue. You want to roll your hips into his mouth, but his hands have your hips stuck in one spot. 
His crimson eyes peek through the valley between your tits, intimidating yet sensual. “That feel good, baby?” he teasingly asks between flicks of his tongue against your clit. “You like this shit?” He pauses to pull away and spit on your pussy, making it and your asshole glisten in his spit. He then dives back into your cunt to slurp it back up, the sloshing, lewd sounds of his tongue and mouth sucking on your pussy making your toes curl. The act is so vulgar and nasty that it makes you gush all over his face. 
“Yeah,” he chuckles into your pussy, the vibrations making you shiver. “You like this shit, dirty little slut. You like Daddy eating this pussy.” You whimper in response, earning a harsh smack on your outer thigh. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me you love it.” He hits you again, making you gasp at the harsh sting. 
“I-I love it!” you moan out. “I love your mouth on me, Daddy! Please, please make me cum!” Katsuki chortles into your pussy as his tongue works furiously at your clit. He takes you by surprise when one of his thick fingers slips into your hole, emitting a loud moan from deep within you. “You wanna cum for me, baby girl?” he teasingly asks. “Don’t cum till I say then. Be a good girl for me.” 
You nearly lose your shit when he begins to slowly fuck you with his finger, gliding up against the underside of your clit while his mouth gently sucks on the skin covering it, teasing the little bud of nerves. You can feel your juices dripping down your asscrack to the sheets, staining them, but you don’t care. You can't care when you’re feeling this good. All you can do is moan and beg for release as Katsuki switches between sucking on your clit and your asshole, his jaw moving furiously and never letting up. 
“Please, Daddy!” you whine, your back arching. “I need to cum! C-Can't take it anymore!” You start babbling for release, sobs escaping your mouth as your core tightens. “Please, please, please!” you cry, just wanting to cum. Just needing to gush all over his face. 
Katsuki finally ticks his eyes up to yours, watching your body and your face. “Cum for me,” he demands in his orgasmic voice. “Do it right fuckin’ now. Give it all to me, baby girl.” And you finally do. That dam breaks in your core and your cum floods the gate as you burst all over your costar’s face. 
“Fuck!” you gasp followed by a string of moans as you cum. You can’t remember the last time you had an orgasm this good. It has you feel like you’re floating off of the bed and seeing space. Katsuki greedily slurps up your cum, humming and moaning appreciatively as he does so. He cleans up your ass and thighs, making sure to get every ounce of cum, until you’re twitching from overstimulation. 
He finally pulls away and sits up, smirking down at you with his lips and chin coated in you. “Much better than your husband, right?” he chuckles. You’re so gone from the orgasm that you don’t even remember the scene plot at first. It is that good! When you finally realize that yes, you’re in the middle of work, you nod and giggle in agreement. “I should return the favor,” you purr. “Can I please suck your cock, Daddy?” 
Katsuki is already helping you onto your knees, a lustful look in his eyes. “Since you listened, I suppose you can,” he softly growls. “Just do a good job for me, okay?” You just smile at him as you happily unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. You’re more than ready to give him the best blowjob of any costar he’s had. 
Minutes later after getting his gorgeous cock out of his pants and give him some tentative kisses and licks, he is deep down your throat and you’re gagging all over his cock. You can hardly believe this is happening! You choking on the Dynamight’s dick, making him moan and grip your hair to the point where it burns. He is so deep that your eyes water, tears dripping down your face and ruining your mascara. 
He chuckles evilly at this, staring down at you as you gag all over his cock. "Look at you,” he breathlessly says, “gaggin’ all over my cock like a good little slut. Keep gaggin’ on that cock, baby. You’re doing so well.” He pushes your head down more, but keeps his hold on you light, allowing you the ability to pull away if you want. He then begins to thrust his cock into your throat, filling the tight, wet hole the same way he would your pussy. 
You gag and gurgle along his thick, veiny, gorgeous dick, spit dripping down your chin and lips. “It feels good, don’t it?” he asks. “It feels so good to get used like this. Have a man know how to fuck a pretty throat like yours.” He groans as your throat vibrates and flexes around him, making him bite his plump lower lip. “You take me so well, sweetheart,” he gasps. “Such a good little cock sleeve.” 
His degrading words have you playing with yours between your thighs which the cameras no doubt catch. When you begin to feel that tickle in your throat, you tap his thigh twice, immediately gaining his attention. “Need to breathe?” he asks, still staying in character.
You nod and he releases you, moaning as he pulls himself out of your mouth. You deeply inhale and cough, your jaw aching and your throat burning from the constant gagging and sucking. “Breathe, slut,” he growls. “And when you’re done, go ahead and finish suckin’ on me. Don’t forget my balls, too.” 
After quickly gaining some recovery, you go back to your job, sucking on his heavy balls while he strokes his cock against your nose. All you can smell, taste, and breathe is him. He is all that matters to you right now. After going back to throating him for a couple more minutes, he finally pulls away and forces you to look at him despite your fucked-out state. His cock, tanned and veiny with a pink head, shines in your spit and his pre-cum. 
“I wanna fuck you,” he growls. “You want that too?” Your stomach flipping excitedly and nervously, you slowly nods and give him a smile. “Yes, Daddy,” you reply. “I want you to fuck me, right now please.” A crooked smile curls onto his lips, blinding you. “Good girl.” 
He moves down to press a kiss to your forehead, but only for the cameras. “Remember,” he whispers, "if you ever want me to stop, just tap me twice.” You nod, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his lips against your ear. “Good girl,” he repeats, though this time, it isn’t in character. It’s real and he really thinks you’re a good girl. His good girl. Butterflies swarm in your stomach and a goofy smile appears on your lips 
In a blink of an eye, you find yourself on your knees and your costar mounting himself behind your ass. He gives you a sharp smack, causing your asscheek to jiggle. A giggle escapes your lips that is quickly swallowed by a moan when he slowly sheathes himself inside of you. Though it’s just the head, he is thick and stretches your hole instantly. 
You both gasp at the same time as soon as he’s snuggly inside of you despite it only being the head. It’s a stretch and it takes a few breaths to take him, but Katsuki is patient and plays with your clit in the process, his knuckles gently brushing the bundle of nerves. “Take your time, baby,” he coos, stroking your back with his other hand. “Just breathe for me.” 
His words, fingers, and the previous orgasm definitely help, making your cunt slipperier enough to take him inch after inch. With each inhale and exhale, he sinks deeper into you and pulls back until he is finally, slowly, fucking you. You gasp at each pump of his hips, each stroke of his cock inside of you, his balls brushing against your clit.
You feel your pussy accommodating to his girth, your walls stretching around him. You’ve never felt so full before, not even with your favorite dildo. He’s so thick that he fills up every inch of your pussy, making him feel a lot bigger each time he thrusts. “Fuck me back,” he growls, smacking your ass. “C’mon, fuck me back, baby. Show me how much you want this.” 
With a whimper, you do as he says and toss your ass back to meet his cock. Your moans and cries fill the bedroom along with the sound of skin clapping against skin and the bedsprings squeaking below you. Katsuki grips your hips for dear life, nailing your pussy again and again, moaning every time he does so. “Goddamn, you’re takin’ me so good, baby girl,” he groans. “You’re so wet…so tight…so…f-fuck.” 
You non-verbally agree with a moan, loving how full you feel with him. You can hardly believe any of this is happening. How many times have you dreamed of fucking Dynamight? How many nights have you rubbed your pussy to the thought of having him fill you up, fuck your brains out, and pump you full of his cum? Your eyes flutter closed from the pleasure and you fall deeper into the bliss he gives you with each thrust of his thick cock inside of you.
He then leans down to wrap his hand around your throat and press his lips to your ear, his hot breath and his touch making the fuck session even more intense. “I lied,” he growls. You blink confusedly. “Huh?” you softly exhale, keeping your voice low to avoid being heard by the mic. 
“When I said I’ve never heard of you before,” he confesses. “I lied to you.” He then reaches down to rub your clit, emitting a loud sob from you and causing your pussy to tighten around him. “I’ve been wantin’ to fuck this pretty pussy for so long,” he groans. “I’ve watched you so many times, wishing I could have you all to myself.” 
Your eyes widen at his confession. He’s watched you? He’s a fan of you? The fact of this makes your pussy clench around him. “Fuck, baby!” he breathlessly swears. “That turn you on? You like the fact that I’ve watched you play with this pussy on camera?” He fucks you a little harder, a little rougher, than before, gripping your hair, giving you a taste of what you’ve been dreaming of. 
“Yes!” you shout, having lost your mind. “Yes, I love it! Please fuck me harder, Daddy! Make me cum for you!”
And he does just that. He wastes no time pulling you back with his hips and thrusting his hips roughly into you until he is railing you into the mattress. His speed is quicker than before, his grip on your hips hard and possessive. “Like that?” he asks. “Like that, little slut?” 
You vigorously nod your head. “Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Please don't stop!”
His hand then roughly shoots out to bend you over, planting your face into the pillow. As he roughly fucks you from behind, all you can do is moan, scream, and sob into the pillow as his cock mercilessly turns your poor pussy into mush. He is almost feral in the way he fucks you into the mattress, grappling at your tits that bounce every time he thrusts his hips forward and smacks at the meat of your thighs. 
Quickly, you feel your second orgasm dawning over you, about to spill over you and Katsuki’s cock plunged deep inside of you. “You wanna cum, baby?” he asks. “You wanna cum for Daddy?”
You pitifully whine in response, unable to speak with his hand grasping your throat and his dick stroking your insides. His cock turns your pussy into wet, gummy mush as it glides against your G-spot and his pelvis nudges against your sensitive clit. It’s all too much. You’re going dizzy from the pleasure. You’re seeing stars. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. 
Katsuki leans down to whisper something in your ear, yanking your hair to pull you back up from the pillow that is now stained in your makeup. “You wanna cum?” he teasingly asks. “You wanna cum on Daddy Dynamight’s cock?” He squeezes his hand around your throat a little more, constricting your breath. 
You wordlessly nod, sobs of pleasure escaping you as your pussy tightens around his cock again. You can tell this orgasm is going to be a big, exhausting one. “Make me cum!” you beg, gripping his shoulders tighter. “Please make me cum, Daddy Dynamight!” He doesn’t need to be told twice. He plunges his cock into you at a breakneck pace as he turns your face to his, his mouth latched onto yours, your tongues swishing together. 
He pulls away with a groan and stares down at you, his gorgeous face contorted in pleasure. 
“Cum for me, Y/N,” he demands in your ear, using your real name. “Cum on this dick. Do it for me, baby girl.” 
With a loud, long moan of his pornstar name, you do so, sparks of pleasure exploding in your body. You gush all over his cock, your pussy flexing and clenching around him as your orgasm floods your senses. You’ve never cum with anyone so hard before. It triggers his own orgasm almost instantly. He immediately pulls himself out of you, moaning as he does so. "Turn around,” he demands. “Turn the fuck around and show me that tongue.” 
You do as he says, knowing what’s coming next. One of your hard limits and things to avoid was a creampie. Though you’re on birth control, it’s still extremely risky, so you told him you like facials better. You obediently sit on your knees before him, watching him eagerly fuck his fist in your face, his beautiful, wet cock ready to burst for you. “So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls. “So sexy…I’m gonna cum all over you.” 
You stick your tongue out for him, keeping your eyes on his. ‘I want it,’ you wordlessly say. ‘Cum for me.’ He stills his hips and his body tenses as his cock spurts rope after rope of hot cum onto your face and tits. “Fuck!” he bellows, his raspy voice echoing against the bedroom walls. 
You weakly whine as you feel each spurt of cum splash onto your cheeks, mouth, and tits. It makes you feel used, and you love it. 
Finally, Katsuki takes a breath and releases his now-soft cock dripping in cum. He stares down at you with a crooked smirk. “How was that for help?” he chuckles. 
“And cut!” Jirou yells. “That’s a wrap!”
You blink confusedly, wondering what she means and how she got here. From the sidelines, Mina cheers for you while Kiri gives you a thumbs-up and a grin. When you look around at the cameras and crew, you remember in your fucked-out, dazed mind that you’re working. You just shot your first porn scene with Dynamight. Suddenly, the nervousness you felt when the scene started comes back. 
“Great job, guys!” Jirou praises you as Deku walks over with some water bottles and baby wipes. “You did a fantastic job. You two really work well together.” She smiles proudly at you and Katsuki before her face quickly turns into a glare directed at Deku. “Where are there robes, Deku?” 
Deku's face grows red hot. “I-I forgot!” he stutters. “I’ll go get them right now!” He passes you a pack of wipes and the water, all jittery and jumpy. “Sorry about that, Y/N,” he apologizes. “And you did a really good job, by the way.” Katsuki and Jirou each give the intern a glare before he skitters off to fetch the robes, Jirou following behind him to make sure he listens. 
Katsuki, still naked and shimmering in sweat, leans back onto his hands to look down at you. “That was a great take,” he sighs. “How’d it feel for you?”
You begin to slowly clean yourself up with the wipes that are lavender-scented. “It was,” you agree. “And pretty good. The cameras went away once we…” You pause, growing hot despite what you two just did. 
Katsuki chuckles at your embarrassment. “Fucked?” he finishes, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re pretty good at it, y’know. I think you’re gonna go far in this industry.” His compliment makes you smile. Suddenly, he becomes nervous and adverts his eyes from yours as he cracks open a bottle of water. “So you got anything to eat?” 
You blink at him, confused at what he’s asking. “Uh…I didn’t pack a lunch,” you reply. “I figured I’d go get something after cleaning up.”
He looks at you once before quickly looking away, his cheeks pink. “Well, when you’re done showering and whatever, we could grab something…together…if you want.” He gnaws on his lower lip that you just kissed and licked at, not at all coming off as the cocky, confident man he was earlier. 
The sudden change in persona nearly gives you whiplash. And then you begin to giggle. Dynamight isn’t at all nervous to fuck on camera, but he’s nervous to ask a girl out for lunch? You decide right then that you’re definitely going to enjoy working with him in the future. “I’d love to, Katsuki,” you reply, making a point to use his real name. 
He smiles sweetly at you then and once again, the cameras, lights, and crew fade away. 
THE END.
509 notes · View notes
qiwoomi · 4 days
Text
officially yours (his)
gojo satoru x fem! reader
fluff, established relationship, marriage, modern au, slightly suggestive in the end
a/n: idk how long it's been, almost about a year but I'm back again. this time school isn't an obstacle anymore :] wrote this while seasons - wave to earth is playing in the background
If years ago you're telling the Gojo Satoru you would marry him, he would tell you it would be a dream out of reach. Because back then, he's not confident in himself to make someone as beautiful- inside and out as you happy. It might be because of his rough past, and he didn't want to risk you going through it as he doesn't want you to get hurt.
You are too delicate, too fragile that he's sure that he doesn't deserve you. Hell, he would even risk letting someone else have you if it meant you don't have to go through a single trouble that he always endures. Though he's used to it by now, but you don't.
So how is it possible that here he is, standing on the shoreline of the vast ocean of your dreams, his shoes a little drenched and stained with sand. But never mind all that. His eyes are on you, teary and red though it won't fall. His lips are trembling, he wants to say something, but he knew that he would be sobbing and he promised himself that he won't ruin the ceremony that unite both of you in sickness and health.
There you are in your white wedding dress, your dream wedding dress, as you held the bouquet of flowers in your hand, keeping up a smile even though you're also on the verge of tears. Your eyes are blurry, but your father guided you to him, letting go of you as you're now standing in front of each other.
You allowed yourself to sniffle. Geto then starts doing the speech and declaration to officiate both of you in your wedding day, Satoru's eyes never fell from yours.
It's time to declare each other's wedding vows, which you anticipate. Satoru fixed his bow tie nervously, as you smiled.
"[Name], my love, my heart, my life, my everything." He starts, and his voice already cracked which earned a few laughs from your families and friends. He was full on sniffling, nose red as the first drop of tears stained his cheek. "First of all, I want to thank you a lot for everything you've done for me. Taking care of me even when I'm whiny and clingy, even though I stained your shirt with my snot as you patted me to sleep. Always being there to comfort me because you know that I'm not fine, even though I insist I am. You always knew before me, and this is one of the reasons why I fall in love with you." He manage to make through the first paragraphs, as onslaught of tears stained his cheeks again.
"Oh my god, I'm crying." He accidentally slipped into the mic, as chuckles are heard again. He's trying to wipe them off with his sleeves now. "Does anyone have a tissue?" He sniffled, as Geto handed him a q-tip. He tried wiping his tears with them, as it didn't do as much. "What does a q-tip gonna do? I need a tissue." He sniffled again, only realising the tissue in his breast pocket when you pointed them out.
"Ah, thank god." He sniffled, as he tried to compose himself while wiping his tears. Now the audiences were laughing, which makes you laugh too even though you're also about to drown in tears. "Okay." He cleared his throat, lifting up the paper in his view which is stained by droplets of tears.
"I'm sure that even if I continue listing them down, words wouldn't be enough to express my love to you- because it runs deep. And it is dangerous, at least this is what I thought when I was so young and naive, still learning what real love means." He sniffled. "But I got addicted to it, you're too addictive that I'm sure the thought of you will never go away. Everyday I wake up, I'm thankful that I even get the chance to be with you. And I try to make it last, even though temporary, these fleeting moments is my motivator."
He inhaled, before reading the next last paragraph. "My love, I want you to know that this has been my dream for the longest time. And to see and experience myself to be officially yours is a dream come true. I'm yours, always yours from the start and eternally. I promise myself from the start, and I want you to know that I'll always be with you no matter in sickness or in health, in the hardest days of your life or the easiest. I love you wholeheartedly in all versions of yourself. My heart, I have devoted myself to you, and should you think that I'm not, I'll always remind you through my actions. I love you, my [Name], my wife now and forever."
Gojo Satoru managed to finish, his tears are now at bay only for it to stream continously again when it's your turn to recite your wedding vows. It is safe to say that Gojo Satoru cried more than you, and he took 1 to 2 business days to process your marriage before finally going back to his 'normal' safe. And you love him all the same.
bonus:
It was late on your wedding night, after making love with him. You laid on his chest, catching your breath as he caressed your hair, his eyes on the ceiling as if lost in thought. It was quiet, but you love it.
"My love?" He starts, his eyes now on you, admiring your features. His hand on your hair is so comforting, that it took you a second to answer him. "Mhm? What is it baby?" You asked, looking up at him with sincereness and love in your eyes.
He pouted, frowning a little. Whatever it is that's weighing on his mind, you want to make it go away. "I'm sorry for ruining our wedding. I just can't hold it- you know. I never thought we would go this far." He mumbled, as you now start cupping his face, making him look into your eyes.
"Hey, it's fine. You know, I love that you're not afraid to show your true self. I love you. You make the wedding more memorable." I reassured him, speaking softly that he might even fall asleep to my voice.
Satoru didn't answer, though it's evident he's happy to know your thoughts now that his frowns and pout go away. "I love you too. You know, we're not even done for the night." He teased, now going back to his 'normal' self.
You slapped his chest playfully, though there's no denying it when your cheeks are flushed.
a/n: this is inspired from one of the videos I came across on ig (iykyk) I wish I copied the link but I lost it ☹️ the video literally screams satoru and you can't fight me.
EDIT: HERE'S THE LINK GUYS!!!
© @qiwoomi
est. 250324
do not copy, translate or repost my work.
298 notes · View notes
karotland · 2 months
Text
the right moment
Tumblr media
Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader
summary: after the wedding of two of your best friends, the maid of honour and the best man take a moment for themseleves.
word count: 2.2k
warnings: language. and bad editing hehehe
a/n: *taps mic* this one's for all the lovers out there<3
You let out a content sigh, staring fondly at the bouquet that was lying on the table in front you. The arrangement was stunning, white roses in the centre peeking out through the blue baby breath, the colour matching the dress you had on. You still could not believe the day you had spent a year preparing for with Amara had just ended.
As the maid of honour, you were very happy with how things had turned out. Amara had looked stunning in her white dress, her veil perfectly enveloping her as she had walked down the aisle with her father to her husband-to-be, Callum waiting at the end. They had lovingly said their vows to each other, exchanged rings and sealed their love with a kiss.
You had held it together quite well, keeping your tears at bay but their first dance had finally done the trick and the dam had burst. Your quite sniffles in the low lighting had alerted Trent who then silently extended a handkerchief to you. You offered him a watery smile in thanks before redirecting your gaze back to the happy couple.
If someone had told you years ago during one of the many friend group’s sleepovers that Amara and Callum would end up married, you would have laughed in their face.  
You were sure the only reason all six of you, Susan and Timmy included, had come out the other end of the wedding sanely was because you all had been stuck to each other like glue, relieving childhood memories for the past month. Trent as the best man had been wonderful, a steady rock that eased your workload as well.
The music had then switched to an upbeat playlist, all the guests up on their feet dancing the night away. You knew that whoever had designed your heels, dancing was the last thing on their mind. But when Trent had pulled you to the dancefloor, keeping you there for three songs, you decided that painful feet were going to a problem for you tomorrow.
 The bouquet toss happened very quickly, all the eligible single women standing a few distance away from the bride. The giggling ratio had become very high as no one was able to hide away their laughs with their arms stretched out in anticipation to catch some good luck. Amara had tossed the bouquet swiftly, the bouquet making an elegant arch and coming down a little to your left. You slightly pushed away Amara’s annoying cousin without remorse and had the bundle of flowers in your grip.
The rest of the night trickled by easy enough. Talking, laughing, eating, drinking, dancing and then one by one people began to leave until it was just you, the bouquet and the last champagne bottle. One champagne flute, half-filled was in your hand while another was sitting next to the bottle, empty as though waiting. You were mostly alone, a few workers would come and go, tidying the place and packing up for the night.
You stayed back, a little tugging sensation in your chest, wanting desperately to keep the night going. You were staying in the hotel anyways, a two-minute walk from the grassy venue you were sat in. You sipped the champagne, enjoying the slight buzz, not wanting to get fully drunk. You hated how quickly things would end, feeling the heaviness of the nostalgia already coming to settle on you. Sighing, you reached out towards the handkerchief Trent had given you earlier, looking at it wistfully and finding yourself suddenly craving his presence, having grown used to him being around so much.
The chair next to you moved, startling you as Trent pulled the seat close to you and sat down, smiling warmly at you. You let out a little laugh in shock, not expecting Trent to appear out of thin air at the mere thought of him. You were still looking at him quite shocked causing Trent to give you a confused look. “What?”
“Nothing,” You recovered quick, “I thought you left. I could have sworn that I saw you leave.”
Trent put away his jacket on the back of his chair, rolling up his sleeves after loosening his bow tie, “I went with Callum’s grandparents and made sure they got to their cars okay.” He looked at the glass in your hands, “Want some company or you’re good drinking alone?”
You smiled, putting down your glass and pouring him a drink. “Not like you’ll listen even if I do say no.”
He took the glass from you, taking a big sip. “Why are you sitting alone?”
“I don’t know,” You sighed, “I guess I just wanted a moment to myself. It still feels so surreal honestly.”
“Yeah.” He took a sip of his drink. “I can’t believe we’re old enough to do something as grown up as getting married now.”
“Well if they had ended up getting their way, they would have run off and gotten married at some random chapel in Scotland. At least this way we got to have a party.”
Trent laughed, “Oh the dreaded plan B when no one would listen to them.”
“You know I uh,” You said nervously, “I half expected you to be long gone by now with a bridesmaid, you being the best man and all.”
Trent gave you a confused look, the realisation hitting him a little late. “Well traditionally...its the best man and the maid of honour that end up going back together.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head on disbelief, ignoring the way your stomach had done a backflip. “Yeah right as if that’s gonna happen.
A comfortable silence fell between you two, taking sips in between, content with each other’s presence. You didn’t say anything but Trent looked a bit nervous, the slight shake of his knee, scratching the side of head and licking his lips with an increased frequency. You thought maybe it was because he was tired, it had been a long day for him as you had seen him running around the whole day.
Maybe it was time to turn in.
“Should we head back?”
“Let’s just sit here a while. I just,” He hesitated, “Want a breather for a second.”
“Yeah, okay.” You sat back in your seat, the quiet lull of sleep coming to you in waves. You hesitantly put your head on Trent’s shoulders, breathing in his cologne and wrapping your arm around his. You gently grazed your fingers against the back of Trent’s warm hand, slowly turning it around and slipping your fingers in his. Your heart had begun thrumming quickly, suddenly feeling hot under his touch, your stomach churning as if waiting for Trent to reject your hand.
But he didn’t. Instead you felt him dip his head, pressing his lips against your forehead, lingering for a few seconds before putting his head against yours. He gripped your hand tighter, rubbing circles softly against your skin with his thumb. “You remember that sleepover we had at Tim’s place when we were fourteen? It was that weekend during winters when it snowed for the first time.”
“Oh Timmy’s mum made the best hot chocolate,” You gushed remembering the day fondly, “God that was so much fun.”
“That was the first time I found out Callum had a crush on Amara because that bastard called me in the morning and convinced me that it would be fun playing seven minutes in heaven.”
You gasped, feeling Trent vibrate with laughter, “What!? You mean Tim didn’t just spontaneously suggest playing it?”
“What no! I just cheekily mentioned it to him about this ‘hot new game’ they played at Jason Levinson’s birthday party and then next thing you know, he’s chewing everyone’s ear off about it.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” You laughed, “And didn’t even tell me!”
Trent shrugged, “Well that’s why I was the best man tonight.”
You rolled your eyes, “So the pairings; Amara and Callum, Timmy and Susan, you and me, that was all pre-planned?”
“You all were a bunch of suckers that night, well except Callum and Amara. I guess that turned out for the best.”
You hummed in agreement, unable to stop yourself from remembering that night. Trent and you had unintentionally ended up wearing matching pyjamas that night; you with red trousers and green shirt and Trent with his green trousers and red shirt. The two of you had loudly exclaimed in the middle of the room, pointing at each other excitedly. You did remember how much Tim was insisting on playing 7 minutes, something that was quite normal because if it wasn’t 7 minutes then it would be something.
Fourteen although it seemed quite a big age at the time, in retrospect was a dumb age as no one paused to think about the impact it would have on the group dynamics in the future. Timmy and Susan had gone up first but within three minutes an argument had erupted between them that had ended their time quicker than anticipated.
After they had come back, it was Yours and Trent’s turn. You remember a little hesitancy your steps in wanting to go with him in the little closet at the back of the house. Trent had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. You had been alone with Trent before but not like this, not in such a small space and certainly not this close. He had grown quite a lot over the year, with you now having to crane your neck up to see him.
He had made a joke about promising not to break out into an argument, eliciting a laugh from you. Trent reassured you that you didn’t have to kiss him which uncharacteristically made you feel a slight twinge of disappointment. But he did follow it up with a proposal of giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and that would be it.
You didn’t say anything, simply nodding, nervous that one of the butterflies in your stomach would fly out. Trent had lifted your chin with his hand, leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, smiling at you reassuringly when he pulled back. You remembered how grateful you had been that the lighting was low in the room otherwise your furious blush would be fully on display.
When the timer rang, Trent and You had emerged. No one had paid much attention; Susan and Timmy were still arguing about something and Callum had practically dragged Amara with him. You had gone and sat in the corner next to Susan, clutching your racing heart, filled with a new sensation, not noticing how Trent was glancing at you. After that everyone settled into the usual routine of sleepovers, forgetting the events of 7 minutes, no one mentioning them again.
But you would remember, remember it so vividly that it would still stir the resting butterflies in your stomach that were now wide awake.
“I don’t regret scheming with Callum that night,” Trent started again, squeezing your hand gently. “But I do regret something.”
“Oh yeah?” You asked, “What’s that?”
“Not kissing you.”
The words hung in the air. You thought you had heard him wrong, waiting for him to take his words back or follow it up with a joke. But none of that happened. You peeled your head off his shoulder to look at him to see if he had the stupid smirk on whenever he was joking. Instead Trent looked so sincere, his big brown eyes set on your face filled with so much affection that it almost felt like you were barging in on an intimate moment.
The more you looked at him, the more the world fell away, everything fading away into nothingness until it was just you and him, forever locked into this moment. Your breathing evened out, matching with his, the feel of his skin against yours becoming more prominent. His eyes momentarily flickered to your lips, the motion melting you and breaking any resolve that was left at this point.
Trent gently caressed your cheek with his free hand, as if committing your every feature to memory. He leaned towards you, tilting your chin upwards. The anticipation was killing you, feeling a jolt of electricity as he brushed his lips against yours, tenderly catching your lips with his.
Any sleep you had before was now chased away, your mind unable to comprehend what was happening. Trent slowly pulled away, a small gasp leaving your lips, already missing the sensation of him. He stroked his thumb against your cheek, “Good?”
You laughed, feeling giddy all of a sudden. You took him by the collar and pulled him back, this time being ready, Trent grinning into the kiss as he kissed you with full intention, knees clashing against each other. Trent clicked in his throat with impatience, freeing his other hand and sliding it around your waist, hoisting you up until you were fully sat in his lap.
A giggle bubbled through you, pulling away to properly see his face, cupping his face like it would disappear any minute now. You shook your head in disbelief, leaving a trail of kisses all over his forehead before pressing a chaste one on his cheek. “It’s never good to have regrets.”
“Hmm,” Trent hummed with a content expression, gripping your thighs, “I’m gonna make sure I have none now.”  
227 notes · View notes