#the moment I finish one poll I start another...but it is what it is. these are very fun.

[founvencha]

ANNOUNCEMENT!

After several submissions, the Queerest In-birth Tournament bracket is finally done! It will begin very soon, if nothing in my life gets in the way. good luck to all and please remember to vote not for your fave- but for who you think is more queer.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : cheating ; breakup ; regret ; very angsty ; surprise pregnancy ; Word Count : 3.5k Request : it was the winner of the poll, does that count? A/N : Here we go!! Gonna make this one hurt!

You sat on the couch, knee bouncing, phone in your hand, watching as the clock at the top of your lock screen switched to 3 in the morning. Not a single text, not a call, nothing from the man whose selfie adorned your lock screen with his puffy cheeks and his adorable smile that you fell in love with every single time he flashed it at you. You had gotten nothing since he had left for the award show almost 9 hours ago, the award show that you had watched from start to finish, even catching the moment when all of the artists had gotten up to start heading out. He wasn’t there anymore… But he sure as hell wasn’t home. 

Maybe he just went back to the dorms… Was what you had thought at first, just a simple thought to try to ease your mind and keep you from thinking the worst, but if that were the case you were sure that he would have texted you to let you know instead of keeping you up all night waiting for some type of communication. Had something bad happened? No, you would have seen it on the news and you were sure that you would have heard something by now. No… He was just ignoring you… Maybe he was just drunk. 

Either way, you wanted to call him just to be sure, especially since you were tired of waiting around for him. You dialed his number and let it ring, and maybe you should have hung up after the third ring to save yourself the heartache that came once the phone was answered. Not by him though, by someone else… You wished it had been one of the guys, but it wasn’t… It was a girl, one that sounded drunk and flustered and… God, you didn’t even want to think about the sinful noises that were made between each word as you heard your fiance's drunken giggles in the background mixed with his own noises… Noises that you had heard on multiple occasions when you were the one sharing the bed with him. 

“Sorry… wrong number…” You had mumbled, trying to hold back the sobs that were caught in your throat, feeling like they were going to choke you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your vision was a blur, the room felt like it was spinning, but you knew that the nauseous feeling wasn’t from being dizzy… No… it was from knowing that the man that you had planned on spending the rest of your life with, the man that you were willing to devote the rest of your life to was lower than low… And the men that you had trusted to look out for you like brothers look out for their sisters had most likely cheered on that man when he took another woman into his bedroom. 

It was hard to remember when you fell asleep, but you knew that you didn’t do it on purpose considering you woke up on the couch the next morning curled up in the fetal position. Your eyelids felt heavy and the sunlight that poured in through the open window burned your sensitive eyes that had been draining tears like a faucet the night before. “Looks like someone fell asleep while watching the award show. You’re so cute, shnookems.” Jisungs voice sounded out from somewhere close by, although your sleep and tear blurred vision made it hard to focus on where he truly was. 

You would have just thought that the night before was a bad dream, just some awful nightmare that you had since he wasn’t at home next to you, but when he let out that quiet little giggle it brought you back to the phone call and you felt sick all over again. “I hate you…” You said as flatly as possible, wiping the sleep from your eyes to finally focus on him, the way his smile faded to a look of shock at what you had said. “Don’t… Don’t talk to me… I hate you… I’m done with you.” 

Not even a good morning, nothing to start the day so that you could lead into the breakup. You went straight for it, diving headfirst into the conversation. “Wh-What are you talking about? Babe, come on… That’s… That’s not funny. Come on… You must have had a bad dream or something… let’s get you some coffee.” He stammered, pushing himself up off the recliner to walk over to where you were now sitting up on the couch, fresh tears already brewing on your bottom lashes. 

His hands were outstretched, waiting for you to grab them or maybe even take your place between his arms, but you smacked them away, shaking your head as you glared up at him. “You’re shit! You’re a lousy, no good, cheater! And don’t you even try to lie to me and say that you didn’t because I fucking heard you, Jisung!” You shouted, although your voice cracked on multiple occasions. You were devastated, heartbroken, but most of all you were pissed. 

So badly you wanted him to deny it, to tell you that it wasn’t true, but his hesitation and the look of guilt that washed over his features was enough for you to know that it hadn’t been a bad dream, that what you heard was real. “Babe… Let’s just… Can we talk about it?” He whispered, keeping his hands at his sides although you could see in the way that they were twitching that he wanted nothing more than to hold you, although you would have just pushed him away if he tried to. 

“Talk about what? I don’t want to hear lies or excuses. I heard enough last night. I waited up for you after the fucking show, I waited until 3 in the goddamn morning… And I called you… And some… Some other girl answered and I… I fucking heard everything. You disgust me! I want nothing to do with you!” You finally pushed yourself off the couch, trying to move past him, but his arms wrapped around you, trying so hard to keep you from walking away. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” You screamed, pushing him away from you. 

It seemed so hypocritical for him to be crying right now, especially since you were the one that had been cheated on, but alas, the tears that flowed down your cheeks were perfectly mirrored on his face. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse, but I really… I truly didn’t mean it! I swear to god, I didn’t!” He sobbed, taking tiny steps towards you, but for each small step that he took, you took two more back. “Baby… please… I love you so fucking much… I… I can’t breathe… I just… I need to know that things will be okay. I can… I’m sorry… If you need space, I can do that… Just don’t… Don’t leave me… Please.” 

“How…” You scoffed, shaking your head, laughing in both shock and disbelief at the audacity that he had to even try to plead. “How can you possibly be so fucking selfish? You don’t have the right to tell me not to leave after you cheated on me. I’m done. We’re over. You can…” You pulled the ring from your finger, the ring that you promised that you’d never take off… But that was before all this, before you knew how he really was. “You can have this back, I don’t want it. I don’t want any parts of you. I’m so fucking glad that this happened before I was dumb enough to marry you.” You threw the ring to the floor right at his feet, the diamond facets reflecting the light of the sun. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t try to have one of the guys try to get in touch with me either. I don’t want anything to do with you or anything that you do once I walk out that door.” 

“Then don’t walk out…” The words rushed out as he swiped the ring off the floor and ran over to where you were standing. “I’m stupid… I’m so stupid. I don’t want to lose this… I don’t want to lose you. One chance… I just want one chance to prove to you that… That I didn’t mean to do it, I’ll never do it again. It was a mistake!” 

“Would you just stop already?!” You hissed, whipping around on your heel to face him as he followed you into the bedroom. “This is hard enough for me, and I don’t need you hounding me about how sad you are because you fucked up. You don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve anymore chances because you’re a cheater, and once a cheater, always a cheater. So either help me pack my shit up so I can get the fuck away from you, or go sit and wallow in your self pity in the living room while I do it myself.” 

///

“So you’re not gonna say anything about it? You’re not even gonna tell him?” Soobin asked as he sat across from you in the little cafe. He had been your savior since you had left Jisung, allowing you to crash in the dorms at night until it got to the point where he eventually just told you that you might as well live there. He and the rest of the boys rarely ever saw the ones that you were trying to avoid unless they were on music shows, but Jisung was none the wiser that you, Soobin, and the rest of the guys had gotten so close. It made it easy to stay with them and practically hide out in their dorm until you made enough money to get a place of your own. 

“Soob… With all due respect, I haven’t even had the time to process it myself, and the last thing I want to deal with is my ex fiance coming back into my life when it’s been turned upside down once again.” You retorted, running your hands over your face as you let out a loud sigh. “I’ve got so much shit that I have to figure out, and I have less than 4 months to do it. I’m stressed enough as it is… I don’t need him to add onto that.” 

It was crazy, but you were pregnant, and to find out when you were already 5 months along was even crazier. You hadn’t gained any weight that you knew about, and even if you did gain anything, it wasn’t enough for you to think that it was from anything but maybe eating a little bit more than you usually would. You had experienced no symptoms at all, and you were so stressed with life itself that you hadn’t even cared for the fact that you might have missed a few periods, you even accompanied the lateness to the overload of stress. 

It wasn’t until you felt something weird, the movement in your stomach, that you asked Yeonjun to take you to the hospital because you had for some reason assumed that you had somehow gotten worms. “But it would be his kid, right? I mean… Doesn’t he have the right to know? I’m not telling you to do it now… But… I mean… it’s his kid.” Soobin tried to reason with you, and you hated that you had decided to confide in one of the two level headed ones in the group, but he was also easier to talk with and you were closer with him than the others. 

“I’m not going to hide it from him… I’m just not ready to tell him yet. Let me work this out in my own head first and then I’ll drop the bomb on him.” Although you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to tell him. Sure, it was his child, but you also didn’t want to have to deal with sharing custody of this surprise child with your cheating ex. It would be so much easier to just raise the baby yourself and if anyone asked, you could just say that it was someone else’s, although that felt morally wrong… But then again, what Jisung did was morally wrong as well. “I’ve got to figure out housing, I’ve got to tell my boss… It’s a lot… I don’t want to deal with him right now.” 

Soobin nodded, humming understandingly as he reached across the table, placing his hand over top of yours that was drumming nervously against the wooden top. “It is a lot, and that’s why me and the guys are going to help you. You can continue staying at the dorms, even after the baby is born if you don’t find a place soon enough. We will help you.” And maybe it was the hormones that caused it, but the kindness of his words and the softness in his eyes had you uncontrollably weeping in the tiny cafe. “Oh boy… Uhm… Come on… Let’s get you back home.” 

///

Jisung sat in the interview chair, his mind cloudy from lack of sleep. Promotional tours and mini shows had him exhausted, and working on the new album kept him busier than he usually would be. He was thankful for it though, unable to think too much about his mistakes, having no time to think about you and what you might be doing. He missed you, but it was clear from the lack of texts or calls back that you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had blocked him, and he wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it would be better that way so you wouldn’t have to read the texts that he sent you daily about how sorry he was and how much he loved you. 

“Are you ready to start?” The interviewer asked, and all the guys nodded in unison, all except Jisung who was trying his best to just keep his head from falling forward and dozing off. “Great! So, my first question is for Han…” The sound of his name had his eyes shooting open, pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out right then and there, nodding to let the interviewer know that she could keep going. “So, we’ve all read the headlines and, we’ve come up with our own conclusions regarding some recent events in your life…” The vagueness had Jisung lowering his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her to get to her point, but a part of him had a sinking feeling on where the question was going. “How do you feel about your ex fiancee being seen out on dates with another idol?” 

Jisung wasn’t very up to date on current news, especially in the world of music considering he had his own headlines to make with the upcoming album. He hadn’t seen anything about you being out on dates with anyone, especially another idol, and he surely hadn’t heard about it in his little circle of other famous friends. He wasn’t even sure if what the interviewer was saying was true, but if it was, his genuine reaction would be heartbroken, but he had to play it off like he wasn’t. “Well, we’ve been apart for… For a while now and… Well, if whoever she’s with is making her happy, who am I to be upset about that. I want nothing but the best for her and whoever she may be with…” He said, trying his best to sound confident, but he was already getting choked up and he felt his eyes glossing over as tears threatened to fall. “Can we take a quick break? I’m sorry.” 

Minho was quick to follow behind the younger man who had rushed into the closest corner as he tried to cry as quietly as possible, which was quite hard, and it felt like all the eyes in the room were on him right now. “Hey… Hey, come on man. Calm down. We don’t even know if it was Y/N that was in whatever pictures that the interviewer was talking about. It could have been anyone, and you know that sometimes interviewers say things to try to get certain reactions out of us. It’s okay…” He tried to pat Jisungs shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but when the younger man turned around he was an absolute wreck. 

“But what if it is her? I know it’s been months, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t want her with anyone else. I want to be the one to make her happy and take her on dates. I want to be the one that comes home to her at night and cuddles up next to her.” Minho grimaced at the cringy images that were being painted in his mind right now, but he tried to hide it, he was really trying to be there for Jisung even though he knew what had happened, and if asked to take a side, although not in front of Jisung, he would take yours in a heartbeat. “What other idol would do that? I’m so nice to everyone… Who would take her from me like that? Why?” 

Minho shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You need to calm down and finish the interview, and then we’ll go home and work things out after we figure out what is going on. Okay?” Minho offered, and in the back of his mind he was hoping that whoever it was in the picture wasn’t you because that would surely only make things worse, and Minho didn’t want to see Jisung worse than what he was right now. 

///

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked, and you turned the corner of the hall to look at him, about to open your mouth to question what he was talking about or who he was talking to, but he quickly lifted his finger to his lips in a motion for you to stay silent, which you quickly obliged to. “Jisung, she’s not here. I don’t know what pictures you thought you saw, but I really think you’re freaking out for no reason.” He put his phone on speaker so you could listen, and part of you wished that he hadn’t because hearing Jisung put two and two together was making you freak out just as much as he was. 

“I’m not freaking out for no reason!” Jisungs shrill voice screeched through the speakers of Soobins phone. “I know what my fiancee looks like! I’ve had multiple photos taken of her and I like that! I know that’s her! Why are you with her?! You took her from me!” He continued shouting, and you could hear his voice breaking at the end of each sentence and then the heavy shaking breaths as he tried to catch his breath between crying and speaking. 

Soobin shook his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly Jisung wasn’t going to back down, and you didn’t want Soobins life to be made harder by Jisungs constant badgering, so just as Soobin was about to speak, you spoke up. “He didn’t take me from you.” You stated matter-of-factly, and Soobins mouth fell open as silence filled Jisungs end of the line. “You cheated on me. You caused this. And you can stop attacking him. It’s not like we’re together, I’m not with anyone right now because I’ve got bigger things to deal with and handle then finding someone else to be in my life.” 

You heard Jisung gasp, and then the shuffle of feet as he seemingly ran off somewhere, maybe somewhere more private, or maybe somewhere where all of the guys were, you weren’t quite sure. “Why… Why are you hiding from me? Why are you ignoring me? I just want to see you… I just… I need to see you. I fucked things up, I get that… But… Maybe we can be friends… I still want you in my life, Y/N…” He whispered, and it made it clear that wherever he went, it was far away from anyone and everyone. “Can we just meet up or something? I can even come over to their dorms if you don’t want to be alone with me… Just… Something, anything… please?” 

You looked around the dorm that was littered with boxes from nursery furniture, a stockpile of diapers, wipes, and baby bottles and powdered formula just so that you’d be ready. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to come over here and see you without figuring out what was going on. “No… I… I don’t want to see you.” You muttered, biting your bottom lip, and for some reason, foolishly waiting for Jisung to understand. 

“Well… I don’t care. I want to see you and… And I’m coming over. I’m coming over to see you dammit.” He said, and before you or Soobin could argue against it, the call had ended, leaving you and Soobin to stare at each other with panicked eyes. This wouldn’t end well… There’s no way it could. 

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[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7 

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy. 

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response. 

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5. 

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay. 

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive? 

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’ 

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea. 

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.” 

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier. 

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished. 

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?” 

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.” 

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer. 

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag. 

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of. 

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out. 

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden. 

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.  

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read… 

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

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

word count: 13.3k

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

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

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckles suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you take another?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on top.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sends him a message.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

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

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

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

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

I think so, too, Honey.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

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

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

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

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

And so, she does.

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

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

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

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

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

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” he says.

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

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

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

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, what a mess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

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

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

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

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

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

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

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

“How do you think it should end?”

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

“Where would you come?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Everywhere.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You flatter me.”

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

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

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

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

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

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

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

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

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

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

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

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

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

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

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

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

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

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

Friends? Definitely.

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

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

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

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

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

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

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

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

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

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

“Would you wear your rings?”

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

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

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

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,”

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

He thinks differently.

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

“I dunno—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel good?”

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

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

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

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

“Please—”

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

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

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

“Such a good girl f’me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hums appreciatively.

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

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

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

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

“You alright?”

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

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

“You sure you’re okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

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

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

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

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

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

“What do you need from me, honey?”

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

“Just talk to me,” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

[be-missed]

Furniture Shop

Tara Carpenter X Fem!Reader

(picture not mine)

Summary: You and Tara went to IKEA to buy some suitable furniture for your new apartment to fit in with your fun activities.

Warning/s: Smut. Strap-on. Minors dni!

A/N: So, from the poll, Tara won. So here we go, hope you like it. I'm gonna use a different POV, so please tell me if you like this kind of wordings or the ones that I have been using for better service <3. A short one (?). Please lower your expectations, I feel so dumb.

Masterlist

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"Try to bend forward" Tara told you as you now check the 3rd show room for the kitchen section.

"I don't know, it's a bit high for me, and I bet you can't reach me by then" you teased Tara with a laugh that made the other girl gasped.

"You just did not say that Y/N." Tara answered with a fake annoyance in her voice "Well I think we can lower it down right?" Tara said while finding a way if the both of you can just cut the excess wood so that it will both fit your height.

"Baby, let's find another island bench, we are just on the third room anyway." You said while patting Tara's head like a defeated puppy, "But I really like the color scheme of this one baby." Tara said.

"Come on now, if we can't find any, then we will buy this one." You said while kissing Tara's forehead which makes her pout but starts to follow you in the next showroom in which where a living room is set.

You sat down on the middle of the sofa and taps the empty seat on your right and said, "Babe, try to sit down." Tara looked at you with curiosity not knowing what you are planning not until you fakely tossed your phone into Tara's feet.

Tara almost went ahead and grab your phone not until you stopped her hand and you slowly bent your knees and spread Tara's thighs. Which surprised Tara, so now she is sitting on the sofa, her leg spread wide, and you between it, kneeling.

"Hmm..." you stated, "This is is a nice height and a perfect angle when I get to blow your strap." Your statement made Tara's blood rush to her face. You stand up and dusted your knees to look more for other things that you can buy. But that was shocking for Tara, because that was the first time you said that you'll gonna blow her with the strap-on ever since you have ever started dating.

"Come on tomato head we've got a lot of furniture to try on." you said while wearing a smile of victory knowing that you made Tara flustered.

But the only thing that was on Tara's head was "We should get home before we make a scene."

---

"FINALLY!" Tara exclaimed as the both of you finished to screw the last part of the side of the kitchen island that the both of you bought from IKEA four days ago. "I was waiting for this moment, finally." Tara then looked at you with a naughty smirk.

"Can we rest for tonight? My arms got so tired from lifting all these woods" you said while you try to find some mercy in Tara's eyes but your girlfriend was so determined on having you tonight.

Tara steps towards your directions slowly and reaches the side of your face with her hand. She caress it that made you sink into her palm and that relaxed your neck that gave her a lot of space for her face to nestle in.

Tara leaves small kisses into the side of your neck until she reaches your ear and bit your lobe, "Sweetheart, you won't be needing you hands for tonight I promise you."

Tara then anchors her free hand to your waist then started to pepper wet kisses into your neck that made you grab the back of Tara's head and slightly pulled her baby hairs when she is leaving a mark on your pulse point.

Slowly, Tara directed you to your new sofa, not getting off of each other. Tara was now standing in front of your sofa while she slowly pushes you down into your knees. You didn't notice your position as you were so drunk and drowned with Tara leaving marks on your neck.

"Did you think I forgot what you said when we bought this sofa?" Tara said with a sly smile on her face while sat down on the same place you told her when you were shopping for furniture.

Now, you were the one with a tomato head, your blood was now rushing to your cheeks which Tara held and said "Hey, relax baby" putting butterfly kisses throughout your face "We don't need to do this if you are not comfortable" and looked at you directly.

But you were Oh so ready for this day, you have been researching on how can you give the best head to your girlfriend with the dildo on but still giving her pleasure. You were just scared because you don't know if you'll give a good head, no, the BEST head that Tara will ever receive throughout her lifespan. That was your goal, to be the best.

You looked at Tara with determined eyes and kissed her lips passionately, "Thank you baby, but I want to do this." You said while Tara gives you an encouragingly nod.

You started to untie the sweat pants that she was wearing that made the strap swing, you were like a teenager who just saw a dick for the first time, which you are, because you have only been with women that do not explore when it comes to sex, so you were only used to fingers, tongues, and a couple of vibrators.

Tara then encouraged you to put the strap on your mouth when she started to gather your hair and made a pony with her hand "Come on, baby show me what that mouth can do."

You started to lick the head and stride your tongue down to the base. Tara looked at you with so much lust in her eyes that made you wet. Tara wants you to go on your own phase and trust her, if it was for her, her strap would be down your throat any second now with how dirty you lick her whole strap.

After quite some time, lubricating the strap, you then tried to fit the head of the strap in your mouth, slowingly lowering your head to almost fit the strap inside your watering mouth. And Tara then was pleased to see you try to swallow it as a whole.

You tried to really swallow Tara's strap bobbing your head up and down for a couple of minutes trying different angles which made Tara twitch from her seat and tighten her hold towards your hair.

You reached for the base with your right hand that made Tara tug your hair which made you let out a whimper "Nuh uh, baby, you'll only be using your lovely mouth. I remember you were using it pretty well snarking at me the other day." And with that you put both of your hands behind your back that made Tara buck her hips into your mouth that gagged you because holy shit, you being so helpless made her more even horny, she was now fucking your mouth and you were also surprised with you ability to just swallow Tara.

She then pulled the strap around your mouth and pulled you into the kitchen.

"Bend over." Tara said using her tone that you know you can't fight with, and that only made you more wet, imagining if Tara can fuck you like a sex toy and pound you hard while you were bent over pleading for a release.

Tara lowered your sleeping shorts and palmed you through your underwear, "Looks like I don't even need to tease you for tonight baby, you are soaking." and bunched your underwear to the side.

Tara snaked her right hand in front of you inserted her hand into your underwear and started to put pressure, starting with slow big circles from your clit to your drenched whole that made you grinding you ass to the strap. It just made you more wet and you started to release soft moans that encouraged Tara, "Beg."

One word, Tara dropped that one word you were wishing to not hear for tonight. You were so shy to beg for Tara when you two have sex, so you just wait until Tara gets soft to you and fuck you senseless, but tonight, you feel that it's gonna be different.

Tara then started to guide the strap with her left hand onto your slit, dragging it along your wet folds, while her right hand started its journey in groping your breast. Tara just made it harder for you.

You let out whimper after whimpers until Tara aligned the strap and started to slowly enter you. That just made you slump your body into the kitchen island and grabbed the edges until your palm hurt. "At last, Tara's gonna fuck me" You thought, but Tara left the entire length of the strap outside and the head was only inside of you.

"Beg, or I would leave you hanging like this and trust me you wouldn't like to sleep all wet and bothered aren't you." Tara whispered to your ear and started small slow circles with your clit and that made you moan.

"Tara..." You said, and Tara started to move her hips, inserting and taking out the head, "Come on, baby.." Tara said, soothing you back. A second pass and you feel Tara pulled the strap out and that made you panic, trapping Tara's hand with your thigh.

"Please" you almost screamed, you looked back at Tara with her eye brows raised, waiting for more words to come out of your mouth, "I need you, so bad... right now." and bit your bottom lip and Tara said "I know you can do more baby" and grasp your ass with her right hand and continuing the circles on your clit that was now going faster.

"Tara please, I can't take it anymore... I need you please baby" you said with and that was the last straw for Tara, "See, that's not hard isn't it" and slowly inserted the strap inside you that made the both of you moaned.

Tara started a slow rhythm, trying to build you up, you felt a sting on your ass and you realised that Tara just spanked you, and you should feel angry, but that just made you so wet that you even moaned.

"Look at you taking me so well, not so shy anymore huh?" Tara taunted you and you just moaned with how the head of the strap be hitting every right place that your own fingers can't.

The slapping of your skin echoed throughout the whole flat and it made you even hornier. Tara slowed down, and said "Be a good girl and fuck yourself" Tara snaked her left hand in front your body and lifted you up holding you up through your neck.

You started to bounce yourself from Tara's strap which Tara really enjoyed seeing you flex your back so much. "Harder, please" you silently whispered where Tara obliged.

Her left hand started to tighten around your throat and her right hand started to move fast around your clit "I know your close, come on baby." Tara encouraged you more.

"Fuck baby... Tara-" You said while you pinch your nipple to apply more pleasure "I'm close baby... please" You pleaded, that came out so smooth in your tongue.

"Fuck... Come Y/N, don't hold back, cum baby" With Tara still thrusting her hips into you, you moaned Tara's name loud enough to let your neighbors know that your girlfriend be fucking you really good. After a few second past, you feel Tara pushed the strap into you and she came with a moan, whispering your name again and again while she slump down your back.

---

"Shit, this apartment is amazing you guys" Sam told the both of you while she explore the cupboards in your kitchen and seeing the different appliances that you also bought.

You were leaning into the kitchen island bent as like your position last night, as you happily look at Sam appreciate your home.

"Yeah, we tried to really follow a color code so that we can have a theme for our home" Tara said entering the kitchen and placed herself behind you until Sam situated her eyes in the both of you.

Sam looked at the both of you disgustingly "Really, you two planned on fucking in the kitchen?" noticing that the kitchen island was so perfect for the both of you.

You and Tara burst out laughing, "What do you mean we plan, we already did" Tara said while sticking her tongue out to tease her sister.

"What the fuck" Sam quickly went out of the kitchen and into the living room, she was so grossed out on how freaky the both of you. Tara saw Sam was about to seat and said "Oh, I won't seat on that spot if you know what I mean."

Sam hurriedly gathered her things "You know what, I won't be coming to your house not until I see you both sanitize your own shit." Sam then went out the door and made Tara laugh.

"Stop teasing your sister babe" you exclaimed and Tara replied "I can't help it, it is true though" and just pulled you in for a kiss.

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A/N: I hope this satisfy your expectations. I tried writing in this kind of POV. Comments and suggestions are appreciated, hope you enjoyed. Not proofread.

[dragonfly0808]

Musa and Tecna’s First Conversation

the next little drabble! After I finish the next one (will put up a poll for it soon) I’ll start putting these on AO3

This is set in the middle season 1 chapter 5

Musa followed Tecna into their dorm, happy to not have been dragged into helping Stella with her unpacking.

She’d heard about the famous spell Alfea used to have every dorm suit their residents perfectly. She’d been excited to see what form her half of the dorm took.

It was obvious at a glance which side was meant to be hers, the walls painted a burgundy red with a few black circles at the corners. The bed covered in different sized pillows and a dark red comforter.

Her closet doors were open and the space seemed to be divided in two. Half the space meant for her clothes, the other she assumed was to hold her instruments.

An oak desk rested against the wall, already holding a few music sheets and a jar for pens. Her nightstands were of a dark cherry color.

Tecna’s walls were painted a lilac color, with a metallic desk and metal shelves painted an electric green, a vibrant green comforter and plush pillows on her bed.

Tecna heaved her metal suitcase on to the bed, the suitcase seeming to expand somehow, splitting into a few different compartments.

Musa carefully took down her guitar from her shoulder, placing it in the closet. There were a few boxes around both their beds, the belongings that had been transported there from their home planets.

She wanted to get unpacking out of the way, it seemed Tecna had the same idea as she threw her half-translucent closet doors open and started sorting out her clothes.

As Musa went to open the first of her boxes, a slight conflict stirred at the pit of her stomach as she took out her carefully wrapped cello and arc.

Should she put on the headphones hanging around her neck and put on some music? Try and talk to her new roommate?

Musa wasn’t the most talkative person, but somehow Tecna looked even less talkative than her. She had an air about her, seeming almost tense as she cast one or two glances her way.

Right as she was about to pull on her headphones-

“You like music?” Came Tecna’s voice, tense and awkward as she cast another glance her way.

Musa snorted, opening another box and pulling out her flute and her bass, “What gave you that impression?”

Tecna ducked her head down, blushing as she slightly shrunk into herself.

oh, no.

“I-I mean… yeah. I really love music.” She quickly rectified, realizing she might’ve been a little too dry in her delivery, “But don’t worry, I’ll try to keep it down.”

“I don’t think I’ll mind it. I mean, I come from a pretty loud house. Music will be a nice change of pace.” Tecna offered as she turned her back, quickly filling her closet, shoulders still a bit raised.

“Loud house? You got siblings?” Musa asked, still feeling the other girl uneasy.

“A big sister and a little brother… you?”

“Nah. It’s just uh… it’s just me and my dad.”

“Mmm.” Musa was glad she didn’t go to ask about her mom, “And you’re from…”

“Melody. You?”

“Zenith. The rural side. My family uh- we have a lightning farm.”

“Sounds cool.” 

AAAAAGGGHHHHHHH 

This was awkward.

Was this what Musa was going to have to deal with for the whole year?

No. This was just their first meeting.

And it was embarrassingly evident that neither of them were really sure how to continue the conversation.

Musa wracked her brain for something to say, anything.

But there was nothing, so after another minute of silence, she put on her headphones and focused on unpacking.

She mostly forgot about her roommate as she worked quickly, after about an hour, sitting at her desk and starring down her sheets of music when the clinking of metal caught her ear even through the guitar chords coming from her headphones and she turned to see Tecna overturning one last box on her bed to dump a bunch of pieces on the bed, frowning for a moment before climbing on the bed and starting to separate the metal pieces into small piles Musa was sure had some kind of categorization even if she had no clue what it might be.

She hesitated before allowing her headphones to fall on her collarbone.

“Ummm… what’s that?”

Tecna looked up, clearly surprised at Musa speaking to her again, a hand holding a screwdriver.

“Oh… a computer. Well- the pieces of it.”

“…and why is it in pieces?”

“Well…” Tecna hesitated, eyes darting around, “I have an… okay computer back home. But I’ve been collecting pieces from a few of the companies from the technological side to build a better computer. My mom offered to just go buy one but I took it as a summer project to find all the pieces. And I made a few blueprints now I just have to… build it.”

“…that… is actually like really cool. Respect girlie.” Musa snorted as Tecna chuckled through her nerves.

“I’d tell you I’m not usually this weird but… I’m pretty sure that’d be lying.”

Musa smiled, “Believe me, I don’t mind a little weird. It’s what makes people fun.”

Tecna rolled her eyes, but she was still smirking so she obviously didn’t mind, “And what are you doing?”

Musa sighed dramatically, “Trying to figure out a chord progression for a song I’ve been working on.”

“You’re an artist?”

“Aspiring.”

“Mmm.”

They both held each other’s gaze for a moment before returning to their project.

Musa adjusted her guitar in her lap as inspiration suddenly struck.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so awkward between the two.

[moirindeclermont]

On today's episode of "All the Polin first times we didn't see in Bridgerton" we touch on a particular subject. Do you remember I've talked about Pen and Colin's fantasies? Do you also remember I made a poll? In Colin's case, the winner was boobsfuc*ing... Do I have your attention now? I have Colin's attention for sure!

It's not a secret that Colin is a b00b man. Everyone knows it. So when Colin told her that one of his fantasies was to put his peen in between her breasts... it wasn't as if Pen didn't know her husband was particularly fond of that asset. She does remember a specific carriage ride very well and remembers having to conceal a red spot from her mama the morning after.

She wants to do this, like every new intimate experience with Colin she is sure she'll like it, and if she doesn't, she knows she can stop it. She trusts Colin's understanding and knows he would be happy as well. With that in mind, she goes to Genevieve, asking for something different. Something a bit scandalous that would help her with this mission. One week later, she picks up the nightgown she has prepared for her, and it's exactly what she wants.

That night, after Colin returns from the meeting with his brother, he finds her on their bed with The Robe. Colin has loved The Robe since that night after the ball and has developed a quite interesting reaction to it. "Husband, I have a surprise for you," Pen says, toying with the belt. Colin is right on her side the moment after. "What is it?" She gets up and makes him sit down on the bed. "Would you be so kind as to unwrap me?" she asks, her tone sweet and sensual.

Colin is already salivating, but when he sees what she is wearing, he looks at her in awe. The blue nightgown is short and has a ribbon on her bosom. He asks silent permission to untie the ribbon, and she nods, their excitement almost palpable. He unties the ribbon, and he is agape, looking at her naked bosom on display. "I was thinking about your fantasy, Colin. I want to make it a reality for you," and she doesn't even finish speaking as Colin kisses her.

"Is that a yes?" she asks when they separate for breathing, and he nods. "I have the best wife," he kisses her mouth. "You are the best, Pen," he kisses her neck. "I can't wait to play with these beauties," he kisses her shoulder. Her nipples are already hard, and she feels herself getting wet at the thought of what her husband is about to do. Colin gives her another deep kiss before starting to touch her breasts. He is still sitting on the bed, and it's the perfect height for the next step.

He takes one of the nipples in his mouth before sucking it and using his teeth to give her the stimulation he knows she craves. Especially when she is this aroused, he knows she likes it a bit rough on the edges. While his mouth was occupied, he quickly unbreeched himself, reaching behind to take a cushion. As always, his first thought is his wife's comfort. Then, he switches nipples, making her moan.

Colin uses his hand to go to her mouth, asking her to suck a bit before going down on her, exploring her core, which is soaked. "Let me make you release once before you kneel for me, baby?" and she nods. Deja vu from the carriage comes into her mind, and he also knows it. "Reminds me of something, this position," he says while still using his tongue to stimulate her nipples. She chuckles and then moans when he enters her with two fingers, his thumb on her pearl.

She buckles wild against him until she comes on his fingers. He looks at her then and puts the same fingers in his mouth, sucking them deeply. She goes on her knees, thoughts eradicated from her mind. She gets a bit closer to him and, using her hands, she puts her breasts together. Looking at him with glassy eyes. "Bloody hell, Pen, you're a vision like this," and he uses his saliva to help him slide. The moment after, she sees the tip coming out as he moans loudly. "This is heaven, darling".

Colin starts to thrust, looking at her and showering her with praise "You're so beautiful. Thank you for letting me do this. I have the best wife. fuck Pen is so good," and she is also enjoying herself, seeing how Colin is going insane for this. She has a wicked idea, and the next time the tip comes near her chin, she looks down and takes it in her mouth. Colin almost shouts. It takes a few other thrusts for him to come right on her breasts.

She looks at him and, copying his action, takes a bit of cum and puts it in her mouth. "Little vixen," he calls her, and she feels wanton and desired. She feels loved. Colin then takes out a tissue and cleans her, asking her to sit on his lap. "While we wait for round 2, you can tell me how you explained what you wanted to the modiste," and he kisses her deeply, "and tell me if you liked this."

"I loved it, Colin... and you know by now that Gen is not adverse to helping us if she can," she says, hands in her hair. They share another kiss, and Colin can't take his hands off her. These two are magnificent, you know that?" she smiles. "I made you even more obsessed, haven't I? " They laugh together while they wait for their passion to restart.

I accept requests! Let me know what first time you want to hear about, and I'll do my best to bring it to life!! I hope you've enjoyed this one, and thank you for following me, as always <3

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week! 

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you. 

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger. 

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.” 

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.” 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion. 

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.” 

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly. 

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled. 

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.” 

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped. 

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily. 

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.” 

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him. 

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress. 

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom. 

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

[unluckywisher]

Y'all asked for fluff back in my last poll (which was two weeks ago 😭), so here it (finally) is:

He turned tiny! (This is a reversal of one of my previous posts where MC is tiny)

You encountered a Wanderer by surprise while hanging out with him, its unusual fluctuations affecting his body, luckily you evaded them. You defeated it and turned back to look at him, but the fluctuations seemed to linger...

If you were hanging out with Xavier:

He looks at himself with confusion, but then says: "Ah, I think I've encountered a Wanderer like this before. The effects should last until tomorrow."

You're too busy kneeling besides him and gaping at his size to hear what he's saying. "Xavier... You're rabbit-sized now!" You poke his torso.

He laughs, finding your reaction cute even though he's the one who's cute at the moment. "Care to pick me up and carry me home, then?" He climbs your kneeling figure and stands on your thighs. "Of course!" You wrap an arm around him and bring him up to your chest, putting your other hand under him to support him, then stand up. "I should be tiny more often." He smiles.

On the way home, he falls asleep in your arms.

When you arrive at your apartment, you leave him on the couch to sleep. However, as soon as he notices your absence, he wakes up.

"Are you going somewhere?" He rubs his eyes. "No, but I thought I'd let you sleep while I change out of the Hunter Equipment." "I'll wait, just don't sneak away while I'm asleep. I'll think you're leaving me." You could swear he's acting cuter than normal. And not just because of his appearance. It's like he's using his increased cuteness to make you want to be with him at all times.

"Okay." You go change and come back to the living room. "Can I sleep on your lap?" "Sure." You sit and let him climb your legs, resting his head on your tummy. "You're very comfortable." The last words fizzle out as he falls asleep, not even five seconds having passed.

You sigh but smile, looking down at his sleeping figure. You grab a nearby blanket and drape it over your legs to cover him. Resigned to the fact that you're gonna have to spend a while sitting here, you start playing with your phone.

Eventually he stirs awake and sees you playing. He tugs on your shirt to catch your attention, so you pause the game and look down. "Can I play too?" "Uh... I don't know if you'll be able to..." You lower the phone to his level.

He uses his whole palm to press continue and starts swatting at the screen with his hands. He's surprisingly good at it. Well, he's good at almost any game he plays, so not that surprising.

The level ends and displays the score. "Is that good?" He asks, looking back at you. "...you beat my record." He laughs. "I'm sorry." "It's okay, now I have a goal to work towards the next time I play."

You put the phone aside. "What do you wanna do now? Don't tell me you want to take another nap..." "Can we cook dinner together?" "Sure, I doubt you'll be able to do much damage like this."

You bring him to the kitchen and let him down on the counter. He looks around the utensils as you check the ingredients you have, thinking about possible recipes. You choose something that Xavier will be able to help with and start cooking. He is very excited to cook alongside you.

The end result is quite good. His size indeed prevented him from causing any disasters, although he almost fell into the frying pan at one point while carrying the ingredients. You both enjoy the meal, Xavier especially delighted.

You finish washing the dishes and he yawns. "Do you wanna go to bed already?" You lean down. "Yes... I'm tired. Being small is exhausting." "Alright, let's go."

He passes out as soon as his body makes contact with your bed. You carefully lie down next to him, pulling the covers up. You curl an arm around him protectively, then fall asleep too.

If you were hanging out with Zayne:

When you wake up, he's still asleep, but he's back to his normal size. The arm you curled around him is now on his neck, your hand buried in his hair. You caress the side of his face to wake him up. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, but when he realizes, he smiles and wraps his arms around you to bring you closer. "You owe me, you know?" "What do you mean?" "I took the brunt of the Wanderer's fluctuations, which is why you weren't affected." "...really." "Mhm." "What do I owe you, then?" "Hmm..."

He looks at the defeated Wanderer, then at you, then at himself. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a long day."

You rush to his side, unsure if you want to laugh or worry. "Dr. Zayne, do you feel okay?" "Yes. Aside from the physical change, I'm fine." "Hold on, I'll use my Hunter's Watch to analyze you."

You do, and find out that the effects won't wear off until tomorrow. "Seems like I'm sticking with you for the rest of the day." "Why do you say it while smiling like that?"

You pick him up and put him inside your jacket to carry him to your apartment. Although he won't admit it, your warmth feels really nice.

On your way home, a sound catches your attention. It's the neighborhood cat meowing. You find it and crouch to pet it, letting Zayne down as well.

"Look, it's bigger than you!" You giggle. Zayne looks at it, tilting his head. The cat tilts its head in response. "It's not running away from you. You should try to pet it." "That might be because it sees me as food." "Aw, don't say that." You pet the cat to show him that it doesn't have any malicious intentions.

Carefully, he steps closer and extends his hand towards its head. The cat watches the action, then bumps its head against Zayne's hand, closing its eyes and purring. The corners of his mouth tilt up the faintest smidge.

*Click.* Zayne turns at the sound. "Sorry, I had to take a picture, you both look really cute." "You better keep it to yourself, or I'll delete it myself as soon as I turn back." "I'm gonna make it my lock screen background." He sighs.

The cat nuzzles up closer to Zayne, and he ends up having to hug its head in order to keep petting it. He seems to be in a state of pure bliss. "You know..." You start saying. "That already sounds like a bad idea." "I didn't even say anything yet." "You don't need to." "I was going to say that you could ride the cat like a horse." "I was right in my assumption."

In the end, you say goodbye to the cat and resume your way home. Zayne still has the slightest of smiles as you walk away.

At home, you let him down on the table. "What do you want to do?" You ask him. "I feel like whatever I choose, you're going to end up making fun of me." "I can't help it, it's not everyday I get to see you doll sized."

Suddenly, you remember something. "Wait, I have a slice of cake in my fridge that I was saving for later. Do you want to share it?" He lights up at the mention of sweets, nodding.

You take out the cake and present the plate to Zayne. The slice reaches up to his chest, the strawberries decorating it at his eye-level. He looks completely lost in the size of the dessert before him, his eyes sparkling even if his expression remains stoic.

You cut a portion for him and take out a spoon for yourself. "I don't have spoons your size, so you have to eat it with your hands." "...I see." He starts literally digging into the cake, and although you don't consider him a messy eater, the way he's munching on the strawberries and whipped cream makes you preemptively pull out a napkin for him. You eat your slice while watching him.

Both of you finish eating and Zayne cleans himself with the napkin, acting as if he didn't just ravage his portion. "It's getting late. Let's go to bed." He says. "Eating the cake made you tired, huh, Dr. Zayne?" You giggle. "I could get used to eating sweets half my size." He smirks. "That doesn't sound healthy." "Smaller creatures tend to have faster metabolisms, which means their sugar intakes need to be higher to keep up with their active lifestyles." "I think you just made that up."

You pick him up again and bring him to the bedroom. As you both get comfy in bed, he moves closer. "Can I rest my head against your chest? Listening to your heartbeat helps me fall asleep..." "Of course." With your permission, he does just that. You wrap an arm around him.

The next morning he's back to normal, his arms around your waist and his head still on your chest. You caress the side of his face to wake him up. He opens his eyes and moves up to face you. "Good morning." He whispers. "Good morning." "You know... Now that I'm my usual size... Yesterday's cake felt like such a small treat. I'm craving a little bit more of something sweet..."

If you were hanging out with Rafayel:

"Hey!? Why am I still tiny?" He says, extending his arms and looking down at himself.

You move closer and crouch, covering your mouth with your hand to hide your laughter.

"Don't laugh at me!" He stomps on the ground, balling his fists at his sides.

This time you laugh out loud. He huffs and crosses his arms, looking away. "Sorry, Rafayel, you look too cute to be taken seriously."

You point your Hunter's Watch at him to scan him, revealing that the effects will last until tomorrow. He sighs, but then smirks and says, "As my bodyguard, I expect you to take care of me while I'm like this. Who knows what could happen to me." He puts the back of his hand to his forehead.

"I was planning on doing it anyways." You roll your eyes. You lower your hand for him to climb on, which he does, sitting cross-legged on your palm. When you raise your hand as you stand up, however, he clutches your fingers and shuts his eyes. "Too high up! Too high up! Crouch again! Aah!"

You cover him with your other hand to comfort him and crouch again. "How am I supposed to carry you home then?" He opens his eyes and lets go of your fingers, blushing at his embarrassing display. "Well, you could tuck me in your boot." "Won't you get dizzy from my legs constantly moving?" "I prefer that over the alternative."

You carefully put him in your boot, and he clutches the laces. This time, you manage to make your way to his house, even if he is nauseous when you arrive. You leave him on the couch to rest.

"This is the worst. Why did this have to happen in a day when I actually have inspiration for a painting? By the time tomorrow arrives, all the ideas will have left my brain." You kneel next to the couch. "You could make tiny paintings." "I don't have tiny tools." He retorts, glaring at you like this is your fault.

"Aw, come on, don't be mad." You extend a finger and pet his head. He tries to avoid it, putting his arms up, but obviously it's useless. He turns red at your touch. "I'm not your pet! This is disrespectful as your employer!" You giggle, rubbing your finger to the side of his face. He attempts to push it away. Unsuccessfully.

"Now you're actually fish-sized. Maybe I should put you in the tank with Reddie." You laugh. "I should fire you." He pouts angrily. "I want to put you in my pocket and carry you around with me all the time."

You spend the day teasing him, and he spends the day waxing poetic about how cruel humans are.

Later, you bring him to his bathtub and fill it to the brim. You look away while he takes his clothes off - although he tries to tease you into looking - and he dives into the water in his lemurian form.

You sink your hand to play with him, his fins tickling your palm. He moves a lot faster than you expected, barely a colorful blur against the white porcelain. He pops out for a second and uses his tail to splash water at you.

After a day of fun, you carry him to bed. "You'll stay until I've turned back, right?" "Yes, yes, you don't need to make a fuss about it."

"Hey!" You cough, wiping your face. He laughs heartily, diving to hide from your attempt at grabbing him.

A while later, he lets you pick him up so you can dry him off. You sit him on the sink and use a towel. "No need to be so harsh!" "You could dry yourself instead of having me do it, you know." "Just be careful."

He makes a point to sleep well away from you, facing the wall as a sort of punishment for having teased him all day, but once some time has passed and he thinks you're asleep, he crawls closer and hugs your arm.

The following morning, you find him wrapped around you, his head on the crook of your neck. You pet his hair softly to wake him up. He groans. Realizing the fact that he's back to normal, he tilts his head up. "It's over, huh...? I think it's time to get some revenge for all that teasing you did yesterday..."

Me fr in this situation:

[steddieasitgoes]

Inspired by the tags I left on @phoenicae poll about our favorite way Eddie didn't die.

I know we all headcanon Steve being the one to carry Eddie out of the Upside Down when they make it back in time after defeating Vecna but consider:

Steve's own body is giving out on him. He's bleeding through the makeshift bandages Nancy fitted him with from all the running they've done getting back to Forest Hills. He's woozy and lightheaded and relying too much on Robin to keep him upright as they finally make it through the woods and spot Dustin and Eddie in the distance.

Dustin is crying, yelling about how Eddie still has a pulse and they can't leave him here, and Steve tries his best to suck up his own pain. Tells Dustin he'll get Eddie back through, but when he bends down to hoist Eddie up, his own knees give out and his vision blacks out.

There's more yelling and pulling, and before Steve knows it, he's being fully supported by Robin. Dustin hobbling behind them.

"We can't leave Eddie," he shouts, glancing over his shoulder as Robin guides him to Eddie's trailer door.

"Nancy's got him, come on!" she shouts, pulling him faster.

And then there's Nancy.

So-called priss Nancy Wheeler.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost Barb, her best friend, to the Upside Down three years ago.

Nancy Wheeler, who lost her classmate and friend Fred days ago because of the Upside Down.

Nancy Wheeler, who just spent several days keeping Eddie safe from a misguided witchhunt that is all the Upside Down's fault.

The same Nancy Wheeler who shot rounds and rounds of bullets through the monster controlling the Upside Down minutes ago.

Nancy Wheeler has been here before.

She's seen what the Upside Down does to a person.

Knows first-hand what it does to the people who get to escape while others don't.

Nancy Wheeler has lived with survivor's guilt for three fucking years.

And she's not going to let Dustin, her favorite of Mike's friends, have to learn what that survivor's guilt feels like.

She's not going to let another one of her friends die because of this place.

Not on her watch.

So, she drops to her knees and gets to work. Stars ripping her shirt to wrap around the worse of Eddie’s wounds, hoping it’ll keep some of the blood in. Eddie winces in pain and it’s the most beautiful sound Nancy’s ever heard because it means he’s still alive. 

“Come on, Eddie. Stay with me okay?” 

She’s left in just her bra when she finishes bandaging him up as best she can. His blood is already soaking through the cotton material and she can hear Robin shouting for her from inside the trailer. 

There’s no time to waste. 

She takes a deep breath, plants her feet and slowly hoists Eddie into her arms. His screams are defending but she tunes them out, running towards the trailer with all the energy she has left in her. 

“M’sorry, I thought you were a priss,” Eddie chokes out, blood oozing from his mouth. “You’re b-b-badass.” 

“You’re pretty badass yourself,” she says as she takes the stairs to the trailer two at a time. “Maybe when all this is done we can be badass together.” 

Eddie hums noncommittally as his eyes start to flutter and Nancy kicks herself into high gear. She manages to get him to clasp his hands around her neck, positions him so he’s on her back and starts climbing the rope. When they flip through, Nancy makes sure to turn their bodies so she absorbs the brunt of the fall, Eddie falling limply on her back with little protest. 

Nancy only has a moment to catch her breath before the door flies open and she’s following a dying Eddie into the back of an ambulance. Robin and Dustin piling into the ambulance for Steve. 

Days later when Hopper asks Nancy how the hell she carried Eddie through a gate in the ceiling, she shrugs. 

“I guess it’s like those moms who lift cars off their kids. I just did it.” 

“It’s because she’s badass,” Eddie supplies instead. “Badass Nancy Wheeler.” 

[hana-no-seiiki]

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

[hello-gloomy]

'What was your nen again?'

____________________

Phantom troupe x Gen!reader

Description: The troupe finally had some free time so you decided to meet up with them again, you happen to bring up something none of them mentioned to you which brings up a question.

Warnings: Crack taken seriously. I don't think there's any use of Y/N aside from that pretty tame some of them might be OOC it's my first time writing for so many characters.

A/N: Just something short (Maybe) to tide us all over till the first two polls are done or till I finish my other WIPs. (I should be doing work rn but I'm not.) :^

_____________________

"You need to work on your sleeping habits."

"...What..?"

"You didn't go to sleep till 2 yesterday." Shalnark looked mildly unnerved at your claims, which made you feel slightly bad for the unconscious snooping you do through everyone's memories. But you couldn't help but bring it up, how is he supposed to commit crimes on three hours of sleep all the time. Bound to make mistakes like that.

"I never told you that..." This gains the attention of Pakunoda who happens to be close by she gets up from where she was sitting in the large dining hall you and the group were staying at for their temporary break.

"Told them what?"

"What time he went to sleep." Her brows furrowed for a second while she glanced at a shocked Shalnark.

"Lucky guess?" She pondered out loud, He grimaced at that while you giggled at his facial expression.

"I peeked at his memories."

"Brother eugh." You full-on belly laughed at that attracting some more of the others to get closer.

"What's going on now?"

"Shal didn't go to sleep till two."

"Explains eyebag."

"I DO NOT HAVE EYEBAGS."

Feitan moved closer to your left side while Shalnark opened up the camera on his phone to look at his eyes to prove his point.

"How see memory?"

"With my Nen." Everyone stopped and looked at you.

"You have Nen?"

"Mmm...Yeah..?"

"So your Nen is similar to mine then?"

"Kind of, just without the gun. I could project other people's memories too."

"Show Shalnark memory."

"Do not."

With that, you summon your nen and a small eyeglass appears you scope out an open wall and find one large enough by Uvo and Nobunaga. You motion for the others to follow behind you while Shalnark whines for you not to embarrass him. Walking past the other pair they take notice and ask Paku what's happening she gives a brief explanation. You engage Gyo and through your eye, you show the memory of Shalnark on his computer and after a bit of fast forwarding through the memory, you show him passed out at the desk. The projection comes to an end and you turn around to find Machi and Korotopi have joined you as well. Pakunoda turns to Shalnark to scold him first.

"they're right you do need to work on your sleeping habits." She held her hand on the side of her face. Shalnark turned a bit pink at her remark while Uvo and Nobunaga started laughing at him.

"I wouldn't be laughing if I were the two of you considering how reckless you were being last week." They stopped immediately, and Machi's eyes were practically excited, begging you to show their embarrassing moments. You let out a quiet huff and turned around to project another moment. Showing the two men almost getting blown up on the task Chrollo had previously sent them on.

"Nice job."

"Shut up Machi!"

"Why don't you show one of her embarrassing moments!!"

"And get strung up hard pass. I like living unlike you two obviously." That had everyone laughing again. Chrollo had magically materialized and joined the theatrics of the group you had all made now.

"How far back can you go with individual memories?"

"From the instant their brain forms." "But I usually don't snoop back that far without explicit permission."

"If you'd prefer I can show memories from when you were younger?" You hold eye contact with Chrollo while the rest watch on. You get a bit nervous and start to doubt the previous forwardness you had getting ready to retract your question, Chrollo interrupts yours and everyone's thoughts.

"Just don't go back too far."

Carefully you picked a memory that you found lovely, one between The boss and Pakunoda. Everyone hushed when the light from your eye displayed upon the wall, you all heard the tune before you saw anyone, piles upon piles of trash a few giggles in between notes of the crackling song and soon enough two small figures came into view a young Chrollo and Paku holding hands arms enveloped around the waist of the other. They were beaming at one another you let it play a bit longer before it cut out. Turning around everyone was looking between Paku and Dancho. Pakunoda wiped her eyes before she looked over to a smiling Chrollo.

"That was a good choice."

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

Writing in between messages!!

🪡Chapter Thirty-three: Rehearsal

“These are actually really good,” Megumi said, digging his fork through another piece of the pancake. “Not too sweet?” you asked him.

“Not too sweet,” he confirmed.

“Are you excited for the show?” Megumi put a hand over his mouth, making sure not to completely swallow the food he had in his mouth before answering. “More nervous, but everything’s been going good at the past rehearsals, so hopefully this will go over well.”

“You’ll do great, you won’t mess up promise,” you smiled at him, returning your attention to your food.

“Hope so.”

“Looks good to you?” you asked Megumi as you helped adjust his hair a little more. “Yeah, looks better honestly.” You smiled at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Y/n can you help me out, the hair in the back doesn’t wanna stay,” Ino spoke up a few feet besides you two. “Hm? oh yeah sure.”

You stood up straight, moving over to help style his hair back. “Thanks, sorry didn’t wanna bother but I couldn’t get it.”

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m not the best either at this but we have help around too just in case.”

Just as you were finished adjusting Ino’s hair, Megumi spoke up “Y/n I just noticed this parts uneven.” You looked over, stepping back towards Megumi. “Which part?” you asked placing your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at the mirror for a second, before meeting your eyes in it. “Oh never mind, I think I was just looking at it wrong.”

“Y/n!”

You turned around to the calling of your name, seeing Inumaki spin Yuki around towards you. “Look Y/n your friend did a great job! I love it!” Yuki announced. “Wow, you do look great Yuki!”

“And they said it wasn’t the same thing,” Inumaki nodded his head towards another station where Maki and Nobara where currently working.

You saw Maki and a volunteer assistant happily working on Kirara, with Choso looking up in your guys direction, eyes on Yuki, and Yuta happily chatting away with them. Next to them you could see Nobara argueing with Sukuna trying to get something on his face but his hand kept swatting it away. A nervous looking Kamo slowly inching away from them.

“Alright, we can chill for a few, we’ve got 10 minutes before needing to be in the backstage.”

“Good luck,” you told Megumi. “It’s still just practice, save it for the actual show.” You both leaned against a wall in the backstage area, seeing everyone file in to get lined up in order.

“You know the project?” Megumi brought up.

“Photography?”

“Yeah,” Megumi smiled at you, “I got an A, said it was nice to see me try something different.”

“Different? In what way?” you questioned

“He said it was nice seeing a more personal touch from me.” You looked at him, giving him quick peck on the cheek. “Good, you deserved it, it was beautiful, well at least to me.”

“Get lined up you can have your moment later,” Maki said approaching you two, “We gotta start heading out,” she told you. You raised your hand slightly, “See you in a few then.” Megumi returned the gesture, “See you.”

Author’s Note: more megumi fluff :3

ok one more chapter and a little epilogue left after this one

also guys i’m prob gonna post a poll for the next smau to do cause i can’t decide btwn two 😭😭 so that’ll be up tomorrow too

hope you guys enjoyed!!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added for the last chapter!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @reneny @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @fishii28 @arguendo @samutoru @hallothankmas @invisible-mori @aiserex @all-in-the-fandoms @milza12 @nyxlai @daintyminho @tokyodarlng @molovs @hopeladybug @dazaisms

[kruegerspillow]

König fic — seeking for your attention and care.

Creators note: hi hiii, soo this is based on a poll I made earlier, with König literally winning the vote, enjoy your meal ❤‍🩹 English is not my first language so my apologies for any grammar/spelling mistakes I've done.

Summary: You didn't know how far König would go just to get your attention, especially care. Yet, this is the day where he'll show you himself — you weren't surprised.

Word count: 642

Warnings: Probably nothing? Wounds and blood mentioned. No pronouns are used here except for ‘you’.

Genre: fluff, what else? 👀

König had been on a relentless mission for a month or two, his unwavering commitment to duty driving him through perilous landscapes and intense battles. Wounded and fatigued, he returned to the base, his mind fixated on one thing—you. With every step, the pain surged through his body, but the thought of seeing you propelled him forward.

König had kept the thought of you close to his heart during his mission. Your warm smile, gentle touch, and unwavering support were his motivation to push through the darkest hours. But now, he needed you more than ever. He had been wounded in the final stages of the mission, a bullet wound to his shoulder that had yet to be treated.

Despite his own pain, König pushed forward, his determined steps taking him straight to the medic's station. The base was abuzz with activity, but he saw you there, tending to another soldier's injuries. His heart sank for a moment as he realized he would have to wait.

König took a seat nearby, clutching his wounded shoulder. The pain was excruciating, but he knew he had to be patient. The sight of you taking care of the other soldiers, your hands working with precision and care, was a soothing balm to his wounded soul.

Finally, you turned towards König and your eyes met his. The relief in your gaze was evident, but König could also see concern. You approached him, your voice laced with worry. "König,” you breathed out quietly.

“Meine liebling, I had missed you dearly,” he murmured out immediately after noticing the concern in your voice, standing up— betraying his legs.

You immediately urged him to sit back down, telling him that he's still hurt and he should minimize his movements. He agreed, the wince clearly visible — even just by the sight of his eyes. You knew how hard it was to be a colonel.

You took the nearest med kit, before bending over slightly to observe examine wound.

“Can you take off your shirt? I need to examine your wound before taking care of it,” you asked him softly.

He nodded, unbuttoning his shirt as he places it aside. He lets out a shuddered breath, before relaxing his shoulders to show you his wounded shoulder. Blood dripped down to the floor, the sound of it wasn't nice.

“Scheiße, sorry, I'm making a mess here,” he apologized quickly, noticing the stream of blood from his arm.

“No worries, Kö, just, stay still.” you reassured him, before grabbing the med kit and opening it.

You cleaned his wounds, noticing how he was a bit more quiet than usual. You furrowed your brows, noticing the wound was pretty deep. You let out a sigh, cleaning the wounds carefully.

You finished cleaning his wounds, grabbing a nearby bandage and wrapping it around his shoulder. He looked at you in awe, before his eyes glanced around the room— it was just the both of you guys.

“Yup, this'll be alright,” you sighed out in relief, your hands covered in his blood. You cleaned up the med kit. “You should avoid moving your shoulder too much, or else you might—”

He cuts you off, doing the absolute opposite of what you told him to do. He grabbed you by your waist softly, before placing you on his lap. He tugged his sniper hood and balaclava up before giving you a kiss.

It was a deep, and passionate one. He was definitely craving this since the start. Your eyes fluttered close, enjoying the feeling of his lips against yours.

“Schatz, sorry for making a bloody mess,” he murmured in between kisses.

He broke the kiss, letting you gasp for air as he tugged his hood and balaclava back down. A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips.

“Thank you for taking care of me, [name],”

[shhh-secret-time]

I love love love your stuff! Can we get a jealousy smut fic?! I don't care with who I just want something tasty!

I was feeling super bad about my writing today, I really struggled with this one but when I went back and read what you wrote it made me feel a lot better. Thank you anon I really appreciate it. And thank you to everyone who voted on the poll! Warning: NSFW, Oral, Strong Language, Drinking Pairing: Kyle x M!Reader Note: I've never written for male reader before, but I want everyone who reads my things to feel included somehow. I didn't include anything crazy in this story because of it. So this one is more on the tamer side of things.

His head hurt. The ache started from the middle of his forehead and spread like a blanket over his skull. Naturally the cure would be going to a party late at night that his best friend drug him too. With medicine being some jungle juice in a red solo cup that said best friend shoved into his hand.

"Loosen up Kyle you look like you're about to explode." He almost didn't hear Stan over the sound of the music playing over them.

Each song had a heavy bass, like a heartbeat slamming into the side of his head and his chest. The kind of music that you could feel in your ribcage each time the beat dropped. So yeah, he really was about to explode. Whatever was in his cup wasn't helping either, the sugary drink was making his heart spike and his stomach churn.

"Stan, I didn't even want to fucking be here in the first place. I'm here for you." Kyle grumbles back once the song finishes, they have a few moments of silence before it picks back up.

"No, you're not. You and I both know if you really wanted to you would have left by now." Stan teases, shooting him a lazy smirk.

Kyle can feel his face burn, like the drink in his hand, it's a mixture of emotions. Rage and embarrassment swirled together with his headache creating the perfect concoction in the red head’s body. His grip on his cup tightens as his arms flex under the forest green flannel and faded Crimson Dawn shirt.

Every bit of him hated the fact that Stan was right, and even more that he knew the reason why Kyle was enduring this. This shit night, this shit drink, this shit music, this shit headache. Why he endured this shit party and all other parties he's been attending the last week.

You.

Dark green orbs travel over to the dance floor where you've been for the past few hours. He can't stop himself from watching the way your hips sway back and for, the way your jeans squeeze your sides in the most delicious way. Even in the dim light he can see how flushed your face looks from all the dancing you've been doing; his eyes lock on to the beads of sweat the travel down your neck and how it slides down your Adam's apple.

Kyle takes a drink of his alcohol, but it does nothing about how dry his mouth feel. His lips now glistening under lights coming off the cell phones that surround him. He barely registers the taste of the coke or the way the drink burns the back of his throat. Not when he can almost taste the drink that's on your lips.

Fuck he was thirsty.

"Earth to Kyle. Dude you're staring." Stan's fingers snapped him out of his trance.

Kyle looked over at Stan with his mouth open slightly. He raises a brow and scoffs, trying to clear his mind.

"You can go dance with him you know? You don't have to stand in this corner! Might have a little competition though." Stan says, gesturing over to you. "Looks like Bebe's all over him."

He was right, but that was nothing new. Bebe practically clinging to your arm, her body all but grinding against yours. Not that this was anything new, she was always around you. Whether it was walking to classes together or sitting at lunch with one another, she was always there. Anytime Kyle even thought about going up to you to talk to you, she was always fucking there. His fingers dipped into the plastic cup making it crack, the amber liquid spilling out onto his fingers.

"Fuck! Look I don't want to dance. I'm just gonna get another drink." Kyle grumbles pushing past his friend.

Jealousy was an ugly beast; one Kyle knew all too well. Insecurity was something he struggled with, ever since he was a kid and it only got worse when he got older. Getting smacked with a growth spurt that made him shoot up past his friends, while it was great for basketball, it drew too much attention as if his stupid curly red hair didn't do that already. He was wishing he brought his hat, why he ever let Stan talk him into things like this he never knew.

The path to the table with all the alcohol was mostly clear. A few people laying off to the side talking to one another or passed out. The smell of weed and alcohol in the air made Kyle scrunch up his nose as he threw the broken cup away. It wasn't hard to find a new one, they were scattered everywhere, now finding one that was abandoned with a drink already in it was a different story. As he scanned the table for a new cup another walking headache approached the table with him.

Eric Cartman, the bane of his existence and the biggest source of his insecurities. Although at this very moment, Bebe was giving him a run for his money. That didn't mean he wanted him to talk however, but like always his mouth worked faster than Kyle's legs.

"I don't know how to tell you this Kyle...but you look like a total shit bag right now. You...you are aware this is a party. You know that thing people go to when they want to have fun." Eric's voice was what sandpaper grinding against skin would sound like, Kyle was sure.

"Fuck off asshole, I really don't want to deal with you right now." Kyle sighs as he picks up a cup.

"Awh, and here I was about to throw you a lifeline. A little birdie told me you've been eye fucking Bebe's boy toy all day." Eric leans against the table pretending to inspect his nails, and his tone alone makes Kyle want to cave his face in.

Kyle grits his teeth trying to focus on the pour of whatever clear liquid he grabbed. "And would that birdie like me to smash his fucking teeth in?"

"You've been using that threat since we were kids. Come on Kyle don't pretend like you aren't at least a little curious as to what I've got to say. We both know how this will go. You're angry because you have sand in your vagina, and I'll tell you what I want because I don't respect you."

Kyle slams the bottle down with a loud thud and glares at him, his grip on the neck of the bottle is so tight he's white knuckling it. Eric holds his hands up in defense, a small bead of sweat trails down the side of his face.

"Believe it or not, I want to help! I've got a lot riding on this little bet with Craig, and I can't have you fucking me out of a hundred and fifty dollars."

"What makes you think I want your help, Cartman?!"

"You don't, but once again. One hundred. And. Fifty. Dollars." Eric holds up his index fingers as he slows his speaking down. "And you need the help, as funny as this is watching you suffer, I'm your friend and as your friend...you would want me to have a hundred and fifty dollars."

No, he really wouldn't. He would want Cartman to get hit by a bus, or at the very least to leave him alone. Kyle could feel himself boiling over at this point his hands were shaking, and his body felt like it was on fire. He was at his tipping point.

"Look I can get you an hour or so with him alone, all you have to do is grow a pair and talk to him. You can't talk to him because Bebe's always around him, right? Well, how do you think Wendy felt with you and Stan? And who brought them together?"

"Aliens."

"Aliens aren't real Kyle, quit making shit up. It was me." He's never seen Eric look or sound so offended before. "You can stand in your gay little corner drinking by yourself, or you can go talk to him and be gay with him in another corner."

As Kyle went to open his mouth to yell at him nothing came out, once again he couldn't find anything to say to him. Nothing that wouldn't be a string of swears or him finally connecting his fist to his smug face. Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. At the very least he could blame the alcohol for this horrible idea.

Eric took the silence as a yes, with a wicked grin he put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Leave it to me Kyle. You'll know the signal when you see it."

He should stop him. He should stop Eric from doing whatever dumb shit he was going to do. But he doesn't, his heart is pounding so hard in his chest that the music seems like a lullaby.

Kyle watches as Eric walks right up to you and Bebe, he walks with such confidence. The confidence of someone who was not invited to this party but showed up anyway, because that's exactly the kind of person he was. The music makes it where he can't hear what he says to you but the look on your face goes from a relaxed smile to a horrified look.

That's when your eyes lock with his. Kyle nearly leaps from his skin as he watches you look between him and Eric. Eric has his hand on his hips and his fingers snapping up at your face.

"No... he isn't."

Eric shouts something, and Bebe steps in between the both of them. She puts her fingers in his face and glares up at him shouting something back. Eric bobs his head to the side swiveling it around like bobble head almost.

"He is. Oh, my fucking god." Kyle puts his face in his hands.

He's past the point of anger. He's beyond seeing red, it's just white. White noise and a ringing in his ear. The steady thumping of his heartbeat and the music is the only thing grounding him. To keep him from flying off the handle and probably making the situation worse.

His fingers tug at the flesh of his skin, pulling it down as he moves from his hands. Fuck it. He's had enough. Had enough of sitting on the sidelines and watching everyone else get to have your attention. The drink was left forgotten on the table behind him, he had gotten what he needed from it.

"A little liquid courage goes a long way." Stan used to say, and maybe he was right.

Kyle's across the room before he knows it, all that basketball playing finally paid off. He's able to dodge sweaty bodies still moving around on the dance floor. A man with a clear destination and nothing was going to stop him.

You don't have time to register the fact Kyle has you by the wrist or the fact that he's dragging you away from the dance floor. He tries to keep his grip gentle, he really does, but through this anger everything in his body has gone numb. You're not complaining about any pain, but he thinks he hears you say something about walking too fast.

Kyle drags you upstairs so he can talk to you without screaming matches or loud music. Without prying eyes or nosey party goers. But now that he's got you here, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to approach this without blowing up. It's not your fault, you don't deserve this.

"What did Cartman say to you?" So, he settles with that, a question. At the very least he can direct all this anger towards Cartman.

You look down between the two of you, looking at the way he still has his larger hand wrapped around your wrist. It's funny, this whole situation. At first you were a little freaked out when Eric just came up and suddenly started yelling at you, but when you saw the look in Kyle's eyes it clicked.

The suspicion that Kyle Broflovski had a crush on you was always there. His gaze lingering a little longer than normal, the way he'd blush and turn his head away from you like he wasn't just admiring you from across the room. When he'd come to you asking for help in class you knew he was passing. All those times he nags at you for not wearing gloves in the Colorado cold, saying something about how you'll get sick and then he'll be forced to take care of you.

Yeah, he wasn't slick. And the poor man wore his heart on his sleeve. If he wasn't trying to sneak peeks at you, then he was shooting glares at Bebe. Oh, how little he knew. Now it all made sense why he shot those dirty looks. Why he was starting to avoid you when earlier in the year he seemed so eager to have lunch with you.

"If he said something that hurt your feelings, I swear I'll turn his spinal fluid into an option at the God damn McDonald's soda fountain." Kyle snarls through gritted teeth.

Oh?

You almost want to chuckle at his reaction, curling your index finger and pressing your lips to the side to stop it from slipping out. "Sorry I was just taken back by all of this. It's not like you to up and grab someone like this Kyle."

He blinks once, and then twice before realizing he's still got a firm grip on you. His face turns red, and he drops your hand like it's hot coal burning his palm.

"Sorry! I just needed to get you away from him, before he said something stupid!" His apology is so cute. The way he won't even look you in the eye. "He didn't say anything stupid, did he?"

"Oh, not much." You shrug and smirk when he lets out a little sigh of relief. "Just that I'm a homewrecker for trying to come in between you two."

"What?!"

"Yeah, something about how I'm stepping up on his man and then he started snapping. Which by the way, great choice in a partner. I didn't know you guys were a thing~." You knew damn well they weren't, not from the way Kyle looked like he was about to explode. Perhaps you were adding fuel to this already raging fire, but if you were honest with yourself. You liked this side of Kyle. The way his eyes darkened and the way his body tensed.

"That fat fucking bastard. I'm gonna kill him!" Just as Kyle was about to leave you in whatever room he dragged you into, you stepped between him and the door putting your arms out.

"Hold on! Just let Bebe handle it, she's got it under control. This is her party."

"She doesn't get to handle him! I'm going to take care of him! It's about time someone put him in his fucking place!"

"Kyle. It's Bebe's party. She can just kick him out and we can go back to having a good time." You place your hand on his chest, trying to guide him back to where he was standing.

He wants to, he really does. The feeling of your hand on his chest almost brings him out of his anger. But your words keep echoing in his head. Eric's stupid plan almost cost him everything, again. "You don't understand! He does this all the time! I'm tired of him getting in the way! She doesn’t get to take this from me to!"

No, he didn't mean that last part, it's not Bebe's fault. He knows that. It's not her fault he can't think straight around you. It's not her fault for wanting to be around you, he can't blame her for that. She probably just sees everything he sees. How wonderful you are, how you light up every room you walk in. How, even now, you're trying to keep the peace and save Cartman's life. Anyone else would have just let that man to die, but here you were Eric Cartman's guardian angel and he didn't even know.

"Bebe? She didn't do anything! What could she have taken!?"

"She's always around you!"

"You mean like you and Stan?"

"No! I mean- it's different! I'm not dating Stan!"

"I'm not dating Bebe!"

He blinks again and it's like he's been hit with cold water. The adrenaline in his veins dulls down to a small buzz. The headache in his head reminds him that it's still here and stronger than ever because of the yelling.

"What?" He asks in a softer tone.

"I'm not dating Bebe!" You yell back as you move your hands off his chest. You cross your arms over yours and give him the most bored look he's ever seen on a person. One that would give Tucker a run for his money.

"Then...why is she..."

"She's gay Kyle. You think you're the only one who gets roped into their friends’ stupid schemes?" You roll your eyes and smirk at him. "She's been trying to make this one chick in our science class jealous."

"Oh."

Fucking oh. That's all he can say. It takes everything in his power not to jump out of the window behind him and just leave town. He could change his name and skip a few states. Grow a beard and shave his head, you'd never see him again and he'd never have to answer for this moment. But his legs feel to heavy to move.

"Yep~! But...it's nice to know you and Eric aren't a thing." Your voice breaks him right out of his little pity party. "You can do so much better."

It takes him a second to realize that you've closed the gap. It's when he feels your fingertips trailing up his forearm, brushing against the veins popping out, that you're touching him. When you look up at him with heavy lidded eyes, he gulps. Trying to swallow that weird lump in his throat.

"If you're so worried that someone else will snatch me up, why not confess to me right now? Unless...I'm reading this whole situation wrong." You move your hands back just as they reach his shoulder blade, and his hand twitches by his side. "Then I can just go back downstairs and ask McCormick for a dance~"

Your back hits the wall as Kyle's resolve finally breaks. His lips crashing down on yours with such a force his teeth clack against yours. It's messy, consuming, and heated.

You can taste the jealousy on his lips.

When you kiss him back, his hands have your wrists pinned to the wall next to your head. Lips locked onto yours and moving against yours with such a frenzy. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You respond by biting his back, pulling a moan from him.

Kyle's tongue pushes past your teeth and into your mouth. His tongue meets yours feverishly, twining around in a rushed dance. Your hips roll up against his, the same ones he couldn't take his eyes off of a minute ago. A minute ago, he was breaking his cup because of how jealous he was of Bebe, and now he's got his tongue down your throat pulling the sexiest moans out of your mouth. He devours every one of them until you break the kiss.

His brows furrow before he realizes you broke for air. Your chest heaving as you try to take in as much as you can. You’re rushing to get back to his lips and it almost brings a smile to his face. Kyle cups the side of your face letting his fingertips trace your jawline.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at Bebe like that. She's your friend and I should've just talked to you."

"Hm-mm~" You nod up at him still trying to recover from the small make out sesh.

"And... you’re right I should just confess that I really want to date you. That I've liked you for a while now. This isn't how I wanted to do it but...I'm not complaining." He whispers against your lips.

"You're so hot when you tell me I'm right." You press a kiss onto the corner of his lips. "Apology accepted handsome. Now do it right."

Kyle chuckles and brushes his nose across yours. The tip of his nose slides down the bridge of yours just as his lips over yours, dangerously close for another kiss. "Hey. You wanna go out with me so I can stop being jealous all the time."

"Hm..." You pretend to think about his question for a moment making him smirk. He tugs you against his body reminding you that you're trapped against him and the wall. It pulls a laugh right out of you, and you run your fingers through his hair. "Yeah handsome, I'd like that. Just like how I'd reaaaaally like it if you kept kissing me."

Kyle laughs and his lips find yours again. "You really think I'm handsome?"

"So handsome. You walked in with that green flannel and tight shirt, I wanted to rip it off you." You're able to get all of that out in-between kissing him, not willing to break the contact for too long.

"Fuck." Kyle's hands fall to your waist and squeezes it in return. "I wanted to take this slow. Do this right but you're making it so hard."

"I know I can feel it. It's poking me."

"That's not what I meant! Shit! I'm sorry I- oh fuck." He hisses when you roll your hips against him.

His cock is stained against his zipper, the tent in his pants is hard to miss. Nothing could have prepared him for the way you rolled yours against him. He could feel your erection sliding up against his thigh, the material of your jeans working against his.

"Want me to take care of that for you?" Kyle's head starts spinning when your hands slip under his shirt and your fingers slide down the front of his pants. Your palm pressed against the v that dips down.

The way your name comes out of his lips in a breathy whisper almost makes you pull his pants down right then and there. How can you expect him to answer you clearly when your lips are pressing the softest kisses down his throat. "I don't want you to feel like y-you have to."

"Kyle. I want this. I want you. Please don't make me beg for it." How can he say no? Not when your fingers are already playing with the button of his pants. Fingernails tapping against it, rubbing circles around the only thing separating your hands from his cock.

Kyle has no composure left; he's starting to feel his cock ache. He nods down at you and goes to pull his pants open. You watch him with a look of hunger in your eyes, watch as he slides his pants down and listen to the way his breath catches in his throat. Your eyes widen at the sight of his cock springing out of his boxers, bobbing when his tip catches on the thin material.

"Hey Ky."

"H-hm?" He's not able to keep the shakiness out of his voice when you wrap your hands around his cock and sink to your knees.

"I want you to fuck my throat." His heart stops momentarily when you talk.

It returns twice as hard when you begin slowly pumping his dick, hammering against his chest each time your fist slides down and grips the base of his member. "Are you sure sweetheart?"

That's new. The way Kyle calls you that makes your heart pick up. He watches as you move to get comfortable on your knees, his eyes burning down at you. The height difference isn't so bad but it's just enough to where he has to bend down a bit to run his fingers through your hair.

"You really want me to beg for it." He does. He likes the thought of you begging for his cock, the thought of your mouth watering just to get a taste of him. So, he answers you with a little grip on your scalp, fingers wrapping around the locks of your hair.

"Oh~! Fuck! Please!" And he's right, the way you beg is so sweet. Kyle groans and tugs your head back causing you to arch up towards him. Forcing your head up towards him.

As your mouth parts to let out a pretty little moan, the head of his cock presses against your lips. The pre-cum the leaks out of the slit coats your lips, and then your tongue when you let it fall out. Kyle's dick twitches against your little kitten licks before he lets it glide into your mouth. He never could have imagined how amazing it feels to have your red swollen lips wrapped around his length.

Kyle reaches out and traces your lips with his fingers, your lustful gaze watching his every movement. A thick strand of saliva coating his fingers before he pushes his cock into your warm inviting throat. He rocks his hips against your mouth slowly at first. Each time he pulls out more saliva gathers at the base of his cock.

You try to take as much of Kyle as you can, the soft sounds of you gagging through the wet thrusts feels messy. It was sloppy and so incredibly hog. Watching the red head lose himself, the restraints he put on himself snapping with each long glide against your tongue. Not long after you hollow your cheeks and continue to suck him off, does he finally break. His hips snap forward thrusting into your mouth faster.

Kyle is so pretty. His lips parted slightly as he struggles to bite back the moans, you're pulling from him. The hand that's no longer tracing your lips is pressed against the wall, holding him up so his legs don't give out.

What has you weak in the knees isn't the way he's got his hands in your hair, pulling your mouth down the length of his cock. Holding it there for a moment only to slide you right back off. Or the way he's using your throat to chase his own high, his thighs flexing under the touch of your palm. It's the way he's kept eye contact with you this entire time, the way his eyes are watching every little thing you do. No matter how intense it all feels or gets, he can't break away.

You have him in this trance that only seems to break when he feels himself getting close. When he tries to pull away, he feels your hands grab at his thighs, a small moan pulled from him again when you dig your nails into his flesh.

"Fuuuck...Sh-shit I'm cumming!" How sweet of him to give you a warning. With a hum you shot him a wink.

That did it. The little gesture was too much for Kyle. A shiver that feels oh too good shoots down his spine as thick ropes of cum spill into your mouth. Kyle pulls out after some time, carefully holding the side of your face as you drink down the bitter climax.

You raise to your feet with a smile, as he takes his hand away to tuck himself back into his pants. Once he's finishes, he cups your face and pulls you back towards him.

"That was...you're incredible."

"I know. But it's nice to hear." You chuckle as he pressed another kiss into your temple. "Don't think I'm done with you yet handsome. Say you walk me home and we enjoy the night to ourselves."

"I think I'd like that. Wanna sneak out the back?" With a grin you take his hand and lead him out of the room. Kyle will never ever admit to Eric that his plan somehow magically worked. But when the time comes for Eric to collect that one fifty, Kyle will make sure he gets it. At least then its bragging rights.

[heartfulselkie]

WIP Game

Thanks @coffeebanana and @rosie-b for the tag, and thank you @kasienda for coming up with this new game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

WIP TITLES

So I'm kind of cheating a bit with my choices here I guess since I have a lot of ideas but not so many actual active WiPs. So some of these aren't actually stuff that has been posted (or not posted in fic form) but they're all what my rodent brain is rotating right now.

Bell the Cat - Ladyblanc Knight AU. Enemies to Reluctant Allies to Lovers. Plenty of angst and trauma to be had in this one!

2. Sad Machine - Not currently available. I'm attempting aiming to have the fic more or less completed before I start posting. Futurist/Cyberpunk-type AU. No Miraculous but there's a dash of vigilantism and mysterious happenings to solve. And some questionable ethics (thanks Gabe).

3. Porceline Girl - Emonette and Badrien (post Paris Special) Oneshot that I'm hoping to finish soon. They're just angsty teens trying to figure out what is love how to be around each other.

4. Kaleidoscope - (not currently a posted fic so link leads to my tumblr tag) Kwami Swap AU with a dose of amnesia! Love Square is a mess in this with a Reunioned Ghostbug trying to solve all the problems. Adrien needs a coffee and a nap. Tikki needs a drink.

5. Citrus and Lavender - Enemies to Lovers AU with Chat Noir being deceived into being on Hawk Moth's side from the very beginning. The kids need therapy and Gabriel needs jail.

UPCOMING

There's is so much I'm looking forward to with Bell the Cat, but with the upcoming chapters I'm excited about introducing some more characters into this world! And of course all the Ladyblanc banter to be had!

2. This is my little pet project at the moment that I am slow roasting in the microwave. There are so many things that I am foaming at the mouth for that I want to just spit the fic out onto ao3 already but I'm trying to go slow with this one.

3. I'm just excited to feed myself more Toxigriffe, even if its in Adrinette form. I have so many ideas for these two but this oneshot is the closest to being finished. I'm excited to have it done (soon! hopefully!)!

4. Another one that's been slow roasting for a bit. I'll admit I'm still undecided with how I want to post this - do I go full fanfic on ao3 with it? Or a webcomic-style on tumblr? Perhaps a hybrid of both? I normally go with writing for longer stories, but this AU really got its interest and following through my random comics of it. It's exciting to think about my options as I could really challenge myself with it (even if opting for a more webcomic style is terrifying in its own way).

5. We're finally reaching the point in the story where Ladynoir are trying to transition from stalwart enemies to shy and unsure partners. All sides of the love square are standing on bambi legs right now as things are very new and scary - but at least they'll slowly learn they have each other to lean on!

I think most of my usual victims have been tagged already - so consider this an open invitation to anyone who wants to do it! I'm tagging you! Yes, you!