#Bubblegum buzz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jezebelblues · 5 months ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 | 𝐇.𝐒 ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

summary: it isn’t about fruit

cw: smut18+, oral (f!receiving) unedited, idk that’s it. there’s like brief mentions of cigarettes/alcohol if that’s an issue

word count: approx 3.7k

| LMFAO okay so here’s something i’ve had in the drafts for a bit. on the lil poll thing the majority of yall voted for smut so here’s a crumb i guess love u

yes it’s 70s!harry. i love u 70rry

masterlist

july 1972

harry knew of YN—a friend of mitch’s, the cousin of a girl he could still taste on his tongue.

she was always in the periphery of his world—not a groupie, not a colleague. she was the girl who held the bubblegum pink lighter to his lips if he couldn’t find his own, the girl who’d offer her red glitter pen if harry lost his black one.

so far, three songs in his notebook were written in sparkly cherry ink.

they met four months ago at a bar in california— his first night on the north american leg of the tour, she'd stood on her tiptoes to hug mitch, congratulating him over and over with a laugh like the fizz of soda on a hot day. harry remembers the scent of her hair when the breeze caught it—peach bubbly and honey. he remembers the crimson lipstick stains on the cigarette she passed him, the faint taste of her fruity cocktail on the filter.

since then, she'd been around. not a fixture, exactly, but something close to it. she didn't sing, didn't play, didn't take up too much space, but she had a knack for fitting into the cracks no one else noticed. sometimes, before a show, she'd twist his hair back just the way he liked it, or she'd swipe a bottle of polish to paint his nails in a shade that matched his shirt.

it was easy, the way she lingered. easy enough that harry never really questioned it.

now, the sucker in her mouth stained her tongue blue. her heart-shaped sunglasses, pink and a little scratched, sat low on the bridge of her nose as the sun painted the roof of the tour bus in a syrupy summer gold. she was stretched out on a towel beside him, humming a tune harry instantly recognized as his own.

he sat cross-legged next to her, the glitter pen—her glitter pen—rolling between his fingers. his notebook balanced on his knee as he scrawled down lyrics, but the words felt sluggish, stuck, like the heavy heat pressing down on them.

YN's hums drifted lazily in the air, quiet enough that the buzz of the bus engine nearly swallowed them up. her eyes were shut tight against the sun's glow, but harry couldn't help stealing glances at her. she looked serene, almost untouched by the heat that had him melting into his jeans.

the cherry-red ink glimmered faintly as he scratched another uneven line into his notebook.

with a sudden pop! she pulled the sucker from her lips and smiled without opening her eyes. "you're staring."

harry didn't flinch. he leaned back slightly and smiled—bunny teeth and dimples. "maybe you're my muse."

her laugh was soft and sharp all at once, the sound of a soda can cracking open. she propped herself up on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. "hardly. if i were, you'd have more than that down by now," she teased, nodding toward the page.

harry smirked, his gaze skimming the floral pattern on her bikini bottoms, the curve of her hip. "or maybe you're just a really bad muse."

she kissed her teeth and let herself flop back down against her towel, the movement making her breasts bounce slightly in her top. harry's eyes lingered, just for a beat. she didn't seem to notice-or maybe she did, but didn't care. instead, she nudged his thigh with her toes, the sucker swirling back between her blued lips.

after a moment, she pulled it free and held it out toward him, her pink-painted nails glinting in the sunlight. "want the rest?" she grinned, tilting her head against her shoulder. "it's bubblegum in the middle. your favorite."

harry sighed theatrically, but he leaned in anyway, his butterfly creasing slightly as he plucked the sticky stick from her fingers. he turned it slowly, the blue sugar catching the light, slick with her saliva as he slid it onto his tongue. it was sweet, bright, with the faintest taste of her still lingering underneath.

she watched him with a raised brow, her grin spreading. “will you tell me who kiwis about yet?”

his lips quirked up around the candy. "no."

this was the third time she'd asked in the span of four months. it was her favorite song, or so she claimed.

it was a month prior in chicago. the aragon ballroom. he'd gone early, hours before soundcheck, to roam the venue, let his nerves settle. but that day the stage hadn't been empty. YN had been there, sitting cross-legged on the polished wood, his guitar resting in her lap. her fingers plucked at the strings hesitantly, her brows furrowed in concentration.

she wore a bright yellow bikini top that day, a pair of denim shorts slung low on her hips. the sunlight streaming through the high windows made her skin glow.

he'd stayed quiet as he approached, leaning his arms on the edge of the stage to watch. she jumped slightly when she noticed him, her cheeks flushing.

"move your hand up a bit more," his voice was soft, nodding toward her grip on the neck of the guitar.

she bit her lip, looking down to adjust her fingers. "like this?"

harry nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "press your index finger there. now try."

her cheeks darkened further, but she nodded, her focus snapping back to the strings as she strummed again-hesitant, but closer this time.

her fingers moved carefully along the frets, still hesitant, but with a quiet determination that made harry smile. the melody of kiwi—rough and unpolished—drifted softly through the empty venue, the rawness of it striking something in him. she wasn't bad, not really, but she played like someone who was just beginning to learn—calculated, deliberate, all concentration and no flow.

"it's better," he said after a moment, straightening up to rest his chin on his arms. "but you're still a little off."

she paused, sighing, her lips pressing into a line. "it doesn't sound right."

"you're playing it too clean," he laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "y’have to let it be messy, loosen up a bit."

her brows furrowed, and she glanced at him, her cheeks still pink. "messy," she repeated skeptically.

"messy," he confirmed, nodding toward the guitar. "you're trying t’control it too much. let it get away from you a little."

her lips quirked up in a soft laugh as she adjusted her grip on the neck. "easy for you to say, you've been playing since you were, what, twelve?"

"eleven," he corrected, grinning wider. "but who's counting?"

she rolled her eyes but didn't argue, her gaze dropping back to the strings as she tried again. her fingers stumbled at first, the sound of a muted note ringing out across the empty hall, but she pushed through it, letting the rhythm guide her this time. harry watched as her shoulders relaxed, the line of tension in her jaw easing slightly.

"better," he praised after a moment, and her head snapped up, her face lighting up with a cautious kind of pride.

"really?"

he nodded, standing to his full height and dusting his hands against his jeans. "you'll have it down by next week at this rate, sunshine.”

she snorted, shaking her head as she set the guitar carefully to the side. "next week," she repeated, her tone dry. "sure."

"what, no faith in yourself?"

her eyes sparkled as she hopped down from the stage, brushing past him with a grin. "none at all."

harry chuckled, turning to watch her as she headed toward the venue's exit, her bare feet padding softly against the floor. her yellow bikini top gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and the sound of her soft humming lingered in the air long after she disappeared from view.

the song wasn’t about her, no, written long before they’d even met—but it stayed hers in a way he couldn't quite explain. hers like the red glitter pen that sat loosely between his fingers, like the memory of the bubblegum sucker on his tongue, like the faint scent of peach and honey still imprinted in his mind.

he let the notebook fall shut and leaned back against the roof of the bus, the sun beating down on his face. beside him, YN shifted lazily, her hand reaching out to tug the sunglasses from her nose and push them up into her hair.

“you’ll tell me one of these days, harry styles.”

he didn't answer, just let his eyes drift shut, a soft smile curling at the edges of his lips.

YN huffed dramatically, flopping onto her side to face him. The towel beneath her crinkled, and the faint scent of sunscreen mixed with the lingering sugar on her breath. “you can’t just smile at me, harry. it’s not fair.”

he peeked one eye open, his grin widening. “fair’s got nothing to do with it.”

“don’t be annoying.” she poked his chest, her nail grazing the inked swallow on his skin. “you can’t write a song like that and then act all mysterious. it’s cruel. is it about someone you dated? someone you wanted to date? tell me something.”

he pushed himself up onto one elbow, the glitter pen rolling off his notebook and landing in the crease of the towel. “and ruin the fun of you guessing every chance you get?”

she groaned, rolling onto her back again and flinging an arm over her face. her sunglasses slipped slightly in her hair, catching the sunlight. “you’re the worst,” she mumbled.

he laughed, soft and low, and let his gaze wander over her—the curve of her shoulder, the way the waistband of her bottoms dug into her hips just enough to make him wonder how her skin might feel under his thumb. “but you keep coming back,” he teased.

“not by choice,” she shot back, her voice muffled by her arm.

he leaned closer, the pendant around his neck glinting as it swung forward. “is that so?”

her arm fell away from her face, and she squinted up at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. “mitch dragged me along,” she said breezily. “i just wanted to see california. maybe get a tan. didn’t realize i’d be stuck with a rock star who thinks he’s god’s gift to songwriting.”

“a rock star, huh?” he echoed, smirking. “that what i am to you?”

her brows arched, her lips quirking into something smug. “what else would you be?”

harry didn’t answer right away. the silence stretched between them, thick and warm, broken only by the hum of the bus and the distant buzz of cicadas. YN held his gaze, unflinching, and for a moment, harry felt a pull in his chest—something slow, something sharp.

finally, he reached for her abandoned sucker, still sticky and shining faintly blue. he popped it into his mouth, smirking around it as he settled back onto the towel.

“god’s gift to songwriting,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

her laugh rang out, bright and unrestrained, and harry closed his eyes, letting the sound soak into him like sunlight.

YN’s laugh faded into a hum as she sat up, legs tucked beneath her, her knees brushing against harry’s thigh. her hand hovered over his notebook, tapping the edge lightly with her fingernail.

“what’s this one about?” she asked, her tone softer now, less teasing.

harry cracked one eye open, the sucker shifting lazily against his cheek. “why d’you always ask questions you know i won’t answer?”

“maybe because i know you’ll give me something, eventually.” she tilted her head, her fingers trailing along the notebook’s cover. “or maybe i just like annoying you.”

“you’re good at it.”

“thank you,” she said sweetly, ignoring his smirk. she flipped the notebook open, her eyes skimming over the half-finished lines written in that unmistakable cherry-red ink. “you’ve been stuck on this one for a while, huh?”

harry sat up, propping himself on one elbow and leaning close enough that her hair brushed his arm. “what makes you say that?”

“the way you’re chewing that sucker like it owes you money,” she teased, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “plus, there’s about three crossed-out lines on every page.”

he sighed, plucking the sucker from his mouth and tossing it into a paper cup near his feet. “some songs take longer than others.”

“and some songs,” she said, grinning as she tapped the glitter pen against the page, “are about a certain someone you refuse to talk about.”

harry laughed, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “you’re obsessed, you know that?”

“just curious.” she rested her chin in her hand, her pink sunglasses slipping down her nose again. “what’s the line you’re stuck on?”

he hesitated for a moment, then reached out to turn the page. “this one.” he pointed to a scribbled-out verse near the bottom, the ink thick and smudged where he’d pressed too hard.

YN’s eyes narrowed as she leaned closer, the scent of her sunscreen warm and sweet. “hmm. it’s… cryptic. you’re trying too hard.”

“oh, am i?” harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.

she nodded, pulling the pen from his hand and spinning it between her fingers. “you need to stop thinking so much. write what you actually want to say, not what you think you’re supposed to.”

“and what do i want to say?”

she smiled, tilting her head at him. “how would i know? it’s your song.”

he held her gaze for a long moment, the teasing edge in her voice softening. his eyes flicked down to the pen in her hand, then back up to her face. “what if you’re the one i’m writing about?”

her breath hitched—just for a second, just barely enough for harry to notice. then she laughed, light and easy, her fingers tapping the notebook again. “then i guess i’m an even worse muse than i thought.”

“terrible,” harry agreed, his voice warm with something deeper, something he wasn’t sure he wanted her to catch.

YN didn’t move away, still perched close enough that her knee brushed against his. She let her fingers trail along the edges of the notebook again. She flipped a page, then another, her curiosity pulling her deeper into the sprawl of his unfinished songs and fragmented verses.

“you really don’t use normal pens anymore, do you?” she said, watching the way the glittery ink shimmered against the light.

“don’t need to,” he muttered without looking up. “not when you keep leaving these everywhere.”

“it’s a service, really,” she teased, flipping another page. “you’re welcome.”

her tone was light, but her fingers slowed as she scanned the next page. the handwriting was messier, more hurried, as if the words had come all at once and left no time for polish.

YN’s fingers hovered over the page, her eyes catching on the title underlined twice in red—watermelon sugar.

“what’s this one?” she asked, tilting the notebook toward herself as she scanned the uneven handwriting.

harry froze, “it’s nothing,” he said quickly, but the tension in his voice was hard to miss.

she arched an eyebrow, flipping the notebook to face her fully. “doesn’t look like nothing.” she read the first line aloud, her tone curious. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening.”

harry leaned over, his fingers brushing hers as he tried to tug the notebook away. “YN, seriously—”

“hold on,” she interrupted, pulling it back toward her chest, her grin widening as she flipped to the next line. “and it sounds just like a song,” she read, her voice lilting in amusement. “you’re getting poetic on me, harry.”

“it’s not finished,” he muttered, sitting back against the towel, his jaw tight as he ran a hand through his curls.

“yeah, i can see that,” she said, tapping the page with her fingernail. “but what’s it about? strawberries? watermelon? a fruit salad?”

harry let out a sharp laugh, but there was something uneasy in the way his eyes flicked to hers. “something like that.”

YN squinted at him, her smile softening as she studied the lyrics again. “it’s… sweet,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful now. “like—” she paused, glancing up at him. “like a crush. isn’t it?”

his mouth opened, then closed again. for a moment, he looked almost caught—like she’d stumbled onto something he hadn’t meant to share. finally, he shrugged, his fingers fidgeting with the cross between his swallows. “it’s about… a feeling,” he said carefully.

“what kind of feeling?” she pressed, tilting her head.

he hesitated, his gaze darting between the notebook and her face. “just… something good. something warm.”

YN rolled her eyes, her teasing smile back in place. “you’re being annoyingly vague. is it about someone? or are you just really passionate about fruit now?”

harry exhaled a laugh, but he didn’t answer right away. instead, his gaze lingered on her, quiet and unreadable, before he finally shrugged again. “do y’want me t’show you?”

her teasing smile faded, curiosity dancing across her features. “show me?” she echoed, her voice gentler now, uncertain.

he nodded, shifting closer. the notebook was forgotten as his fingers brushed along its spine, pushing it aside. his eyes swept over her face slowly, studying the way her cheeks were flushed from the sun, the way her lips parted as if she wanted to ask something but had forgotten how.

his hands rested near her hips, the towel wrinkling under his palms. he leaned in, close enough that his breath was cool against her lips. "it's not about fruit," he breathed, his voice barely more than a rasp.

she blinked, her pulse skittering in her chest as her eyes flicked between his. "i... kinda figured," she whispered, her tone shaky, but her gaze steady.

his lips twitched, a soft breath of laughter escaping through his nose. "do you trust me?"

her eyes dipped, lingering on the curve of his strawberry-red lips. the weight of the moment pressed against her, electric and unyielding. "just show me, harry."

he didn't hesitate after that. his hands settled on her hips, warm and firm, as he guided her flat onto the towel. the sun hung heavy in the sky, draping them in a creamsicle haze, but all she could focus on was him—his weight, his touch, the way his curls fell forward as he hovered over her.

his ring clad fingers drifted to her thighs, palms flat along the insides as he spread her apart. the tip of his nose grazed the gusset of her bikini bottoms over to the flesh of her thigh right against his thumb. he pressed soft kisses into the skin, nipping at it gently to watch her chest rise from a gasp.

his lips trailed like the sticky sweetness of honey dripping down her skin, closer to her center, each kiss slow and warm.

he paused, his nose brushing against her clit still covered by fabric, but he could still feel her heat radiating through it. “still with me?”

she nodded, her heartbeat everywhere but her chest. “please, harry.”

he smirked, his fingers hooking underneath the bottoms, his touch feather-light as he slid them down. the movement felt slow, intentional, every second stretching out as the anticipation buzzed through her like electricity.

her arousal glistened in the sunlight—a bright peach dripping with water in the georgia heat. he laid flat on his stomach, arms looping behind her knees and pulling her thighs apart. he breathed her in, lips grazing alongside her folds before he pressed soft kisses into her.

she was sunshine, she was rock and roll, she seeped nectar and smelt like champagne—he wanted to take his time.

he kissed right into her heat, his lips slick with the remnants of her, causing her tummy to flip. he drank her in, sliding his tongue up until he could make slow swirls around her clit. it sent a jolt through her, a sensation so vivid it left her gasping.

she clutched the towel beneath her, head tipping back as the sounds of summer—cicadas in the distance, trees shaking in warm breeze, the hum of the engine—faded into the background.

he took her bud between his lips greedily, suckling gently and flicking the tip of his tongue against her. his grip on her thighs tightened as he pushed himself father into her, drawing soft, breathy moans from her throat.

he tilted his head, cheek flat against the space between where her thigh and cunt met. he lapped at her pussy, slow and languid strokes as he gazed up at her through his eyelashes.

“like sugar.” he mumbled against her, the reverberation causing her fingers to tangle themselves in his curls, her hips bucking against his face.

he smiled, pulling her down flat against the towel, burying himself deeper into her. she would tug on his curls every time he moaned against her folds. she’d push up against his hands every time he’d shake his head between her thighs, coaxing whimpers to fall from her lips.

he pulled her thighs over his shoulders, his nose brushing against her clit as he buried his tongue into her hole, tasting every drop, drinking in the way she’d clench around his tongue.

her cheeks flushed, words caught in her throat as he found his rhythm, his large hands holding her steady. his tongue moved like he was writing lyrics, every motion a verse, every pause a chorus.

she felt herself unraveling, her body tensing as she drew her higher and higher, the knot in her core overwhelming and intoxicating. she was an unrelenting sea, pressure, thrashing and trembles until the wave finally broke—gasping his name, her thighs trembling against his shoulders as her back arched.

he didn’t stop, relishing in the way she slid across his tongue, easing her though the aftershocks. his hands trailed from her thighs to her waist as she sagged back down against the towel, her chest heaving, fingers still threaded through his hair.

he pulled back slowly, a string of her release and his saliva snapping from the departure. he kissed up her naval, lips glistening in the sunlight, his chin soaked.

he smiled, resting onto his forearms as he hovered over her. “showed you, just like y’wanted. right, needy girl?”

YN blinked, her breath still catching as her body buzzed with the lingering warmth of him. she hummed, nodding.

his dimples deepened as he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. “good,” he mumbled, pulling her lips apart as he leaned in. she could taste herself on him, sweet and heady, fruit and warmed by the sun.

he leaned his forehead against hers, their noses barely touching. “but if you need me to explain it again,” he hummed, kissing her once more. “i’ve got time, sunshine.”

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry edward styles #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles smut #70s harry #harry styles fanfic #watermelon sugar

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dadsbongos · 4 months ago

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on hard times

5.4k words / summary - jimmy needs a place to stay, and what place is better than with his enabling best friend, curly, and curly's hot step-daughter? nothing could go wrong!

warnings - fem!reader, piv sex, noncon jimmy, stepcest, objectification/sexism (thank u jimmy), curly and jimmy should both be shot in the head

reader is 20 not actually a teenager.

[B Side: Jimmy Zare]

Sitting in a hospital room is not unfamiliar to Jimmy, the only peculiarity to it now being that he’s the one in a gown with his ass out. He’s perched over the edge of the bed now, elbows on his knees and flicking an unlit cigarette between two fingers. Below him is a head of flaxen hair, thick hands unzipping a black bag full to the lumps of plain long-sleeves and jeans and socks.

Grant Curly is Jimmy's sole emergency contact. Mrs. Grant Curly used to be Curly's emergency contact. Next was Grant Curly senior. Then Jimmy Zare.

Jimmy thinks that's fucked up. He should have a Mrs. Jimmy Zare and a Jimmy Zare senior and then, finally and as a last resort, there would be Grant Curly.

But, unfortunately, that’s just not true.

Curly now rolls socks on both Jimmy’s feet. Patting the man’s ankle in a way meant to be reassuring, but only squeezes repulsion from Jimmy’s face.

“I can dress myself,” he sneers.

Lots of remarks could’ve followed from Curly’s mouth -- most apparent being: why’d you let me get this far? None of them come, though, Curly simply nods and stands and kicks the bag closer to where Jimmy’s legs dangle over the edge.

“You got everything?” Curly grimaces at his own question, “What happened to your phone?”

Jimmy shrugs before shucking on a stiff pair of jeans, grunting with the effort and cupping his bruised over stomach, “Dunno.”

Curly bites back a sigh, Jimmy watches it happen in real time: a little bit more faith in him is eaten back by disappointment.

All the same, he pulls over a black long sleeve. Violet stomach screaming in protest as he hisses a curse for his dimwitted neighbor, stumbling back into the bed.

“Alright,” Curly bends, hands out to assist Jimmy in standing, “Let’s get you home.”

Jimmy elbows his friend away, paying no mind the pained wheeze he lets out, before stumbling onto two feet by himself. In the hand not bracing his abdomen, is a crinkled plastic bag with vomit-stained clothes and a peeling leather belt.

In silence they wade through the buzzing clinical halls. Hours prior this same hallway was in chaos, Jimmy knows that -- he just doesn’t remember it. Not between yellow-black dots sucking out the light in his eyes or the stinging remnants of bile around his teeth. Now the corridor is sleepier, and stars are beginning to crawl out from behind the horizon.

Jimmy wonders if he waited until now- if his neighbor would’ve had her kids already in bed, too tired to check out the next trailer over rattling-

He supposes it doesn’t matter. He’s already breaking out toward the parking lot with Curly.

Who then takes a bold step toward the bubblegum Jeep with no back doors, which he knows is not Curly’s car. Meaning one thing,

“Oh,” Curly says like a last minute thought, “Kid’s home, by the way. I hope that’s fine.”

He smiles in such a tight way that slyly communicates: it better be fine because there’s no fighting this. All importance Mrs. Grant Curly took up in the man’s life was drained instantly when she served divorce papers; a space rapidly refilled with the child from a previous marriage. The crooked thorn in Jimmy’s side. The new emergency contact. You.

“Why do you even have a room for it?” Jimmy shuffles into the passenger side, scooting the seat forward and leaving the seatbelt dangling at his shoulder, “Not your kid.”

Curly waves off such criticism, “I love her! She’s nice and funny, everything I could’ve wanted.”

“Ugh,” Jimmy gags, eyes fluttering shut, “Do I get my own room, or do I have to share?”

If his eyes were open, he’s certain he’d be forced to gaze upon that same pressed smile. That stale smile that says more than enough. Jimmy will not like this.

“You got the couch or my bed,” a click and hum vibrates Jimmy in his seat before the car electrifies with whistling pop music. Big chunky tires rolling onto the highway back into clean cut suburbs.

Jimmy cringes at the moaning welps over the radio and flings a hand out, one eye creaking open just enough to make out the volume knob between his crowding lashes. Twisting it far down while croaking,

“You’re a grown ass man, the fuck are you listening to that shit for?”

“It’s just what she left on,” Curly’s jovial, despite the rude quizzing, “You don’t like a bit of girly pop?”

Jimmy glares, turning his whole head to spit daggers toward his friend, “If that little cunt is playing this shit while I’m over, one of us is dying.”

Curly just laughs, then quietly murmurs -- too quiet to be taken seriously, “Don’t call her that.”

Curly is like the sun. Big and bright and nurturing no matter how violently you resist. Making Jimmy mercury: small and red and forever revolving around him.

Upon pulling into the broad driveway up to Curly’s two-story home, Jimmy’s already rich negative attitude only sours more. He spots the sleek little navy blue Toyota Corolla (that’s seen more blood and sweat and tears than your cute two-seater would ever know about) closer to the door.

“Why’d you pick me up in this if your car was here?”

“I figured you’d appreciate this one more,” Curly snarks, killing the engine and jingling your ring of chains with two keys. One for the house and one for your car. Aside from that is a rose gold blinged out rectangle with your name on it, pink little plastic cats, a metal fairy, and purple fuzzy dice.

“Figured wrong,” Jimmy slinks out, curling the clear bag of his belongings to his chest before patting the plastic with loud ‘pops’ as the pair steps through the front door, “I wanna wash this.”

Curly hisses lowly, head turning toward the very obviously clunking washing machine in the utility closet, “I think she’s doing a load right now.”

Ideally, Jimmy would toss his shit in with yours but God forbid the princess gets just a little crusted vomit washed off alongside her delicate thin dresses and lace panties.

“Then I just leave this shit?”

“Looks like it.”

Jimmy really hates you -you’re a little bitch. And you’re hopping down the stairs in a yellow Pony Express shirt three sizes too big for you, smiling, waving, melodically chirping:

”Hi, Uncle Jimmy!”

“Don’t call me that,” Jimmy huffs at you, eye rolling while Curly’s back still faces him from the kitchen.

You stop at the foot of the steps and pout out at him, “Jeez, aren’t you rude? Did they have to amputate your heart out there?”

Jimmy rolls his eyes again, this time with more apparent gusto. He flips you off to boot. You pull an offended scowl before trampling over to Curly and tugging the back of his shirt, murmuring dirt and shit and lies into his big ear. Curly doesn’t spare the energy of twisting back before calling out,

“Jim’ play nice, please?!”

Jimmy hates you. You’re not even Curly’s. You were just some teenage sulk when you came into their lives, and now you’re some codependent wimp living at home. Despite the blonde never complaining about this fact, Jimmy just knows it’s insane that you’re still clinging around. It’s all that pampering Curly did on you.

You skip back out, hands tied behind your back with that awful smile. Rosy lipped with just the perfect sliver of teeth showing, and the apples of your cheeks glowing. The best part of you perched like that is that he can make out the plumpness of your tits -- could probably even reach out and squeeze one before you manage untangling your hands to shove him off.

“So, how long are you staying?” your soft voice grates him again,

Shrugging at you, Jimmy confesses, “Until I get my own house back.”

Your mouth opens, brows furrowed, then they dart up in shock -or perhaps realization- and your mouth closes. You nod and look back at Curly, then again at Jimmy, “Okay,” and prattle back into the kitchen.

Murmuring ensues.

That’s when Curly presses, “Jim’, are you takin’ my room or the couch?!”

More murmuring. You hiss something and he can see the whip of your arm as you whack the blonde’s arm. He laughs quietly and waltzes out, shaking his head a bit,

“Sorry, little lady says you’ve gotta take the couch.”

Jimmy’s scowl must be so hilarious because Curly just laughs harder. You come out whining, smacking at the man’s arm again with a belated shush.

Your concern is brushed off without thought, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

You love Grant, really. He’s been a massive teddy bear since the day you met, but his fatal flaw is his guilted sense of devotion. Especially when it revolved around dear old Uncle Jimmy.

A soft jingle and hiss clues you all to the sudden silence where a machine once clanged. Jimmy spares no seconds before thumbing over his shoulder and seething at you, “Change your load over. I got shit to wash.”

“Grant, don’t let him talk to me like that!” you stomp your foot and whine.

“‘Grant’,” Jimmy mimics your voice, tone nasally and drawn impossibly high.

“Already bickering,” Curly plasters on his worst smile yet, hands fisted on his hips, “This’ll be a good time.”

***

It, decidedly, has not been a good time.

Not in the mornings.

“Grant’s out for his jog,” you mumble around a spoonful of fruity cereal. Milk faintly pink from the artificial dyes.

Jimmy doesn’t even dignify you with a response, prowling from the bed with his striped pajama pants sagging and an unmatching black beater swerved to expose one of his nipples.

“You have a tit piercing?” said with undeniably judgment. Poking the bear just to prove it won’t do anything.

As expected, you receive sullen silence. Jimmy only confirms he heard you in how he roughly yanks the thin material to cover the silver bar through his nipple.

That’s precisely when you spot something sure to make the bear roar. Thin line upon thin line, now blistering white and all stacked in uneven rows along each forearm. A couple stretch past his elbow. You open your mouth, then think better of pointing those out. Partially from some undeserved pity, and partially because of some fleeting certainty he’ll actually kill you over that remark.

“Slept in real late today, huh?” is what you decide on instead.

Jimmy, again, completely skimps you. Rooting around the cabinets until he finds the shiniest bowl and clacking it loudly on the marble counter. Taking down your box of pebbles cereal, ignoring your scoffed protests, and pouring out an overly generous portion. Despite his determination to dodge you, he throws down his bowl -splattering milk over the hardwood table as he does- right beside yours.

Chair skidding out before he hunches over the table. Elbows ungracefully planted on either side of his bowl.

From your peripherals, you watch Jimmy eat. Milk dribbles down his greyed scruff and he crunches open-mouthed, you can identify each sugary morsel just before it’s mashed into rainbow paste. No amount of blatant cringing or sighing does you any favors, so you resort to simply abandoning breakfast before you hurl what’s gone down.

Little do you know that as you rise, so too does the material of your itty bitty silk shorts. Riding up into your ass until fat is spilling out the bottom, and Jimmy hones in on the sight as soon as you’re up. Following with utmost interest as you round the table and perch onto the silver sink ledge, flicking on the hot tap. Definitely prettier bent over the counter than when you’re talking.

If you were his step-daughter you’d probably never leave the house. He’d have the door deadbolted from the outside.

Jimmy blinks at that. Leaning back in his chair, stare unwavering as your hips veer left and right with the effort of scrubbing out dried cereal, and folding his arms. He blinks again, this time with more confidence in his chest.

There’s a reason you’re here, and it isn’t because you’re Curly’s kid.

“Hey,” Jimmy’s voice is buried in the back of his throat, all gravel and rock beneath every different thing he actually wants to say. Eyes rounding over your exposed ass cheeks, “Why’d your parents split?”

Your guttural offense is pretty indicating, “Grant’s not my dad.”

“You still live with him.”

“Yeah, when I’m not on campus.”

Jimmy’s silence is so stagnant, you have to turn to confirm he’s still in the room.

Surprisingly, he is, and he’s staring right at you. Every muscle in his face stony, a hardset confidence as if he knows everything before he even opens his mouth, “Your mom’s just downtown, isn’t she?”

Rather than rationalize -whether it’s a lie or not- you swallow the nerves in your throat and turn back on him, “Why do you care so much? Do you wanna live here forever or something?”

“Call it curiosity.”

“Then be curious about why you don’t have your own place yet,” if you spent even a second longer at that sink then you would’ve gotten a ceramic bowl buried into your skull.

Luckily you immediately break for the stairs, jumping them two at a time (joke’s on your stupid ass anyway, now he’s memorizing the way your tits jiggle up each step).

Not out on errands.

Jimmy’s leaning against the rickety cart with a plastic red handcover. Head drooped to one shoulder, silently observing as you stretch up to grab a jar of Curly’s favored peanut butter from the top shelf.

“You can ask for help,” Jimmy sneers.

You ignore him, flagrantly. Even kicking a leg onto the bottom shelf, selfishly knocking over thin blue boxes of macaroni with your other foot stretching backward. One hand clutching the middle of the bay for purchase, the other high above your head.

“Fine, be a bitch about it,” he sighs and sinks back.

Suddenly thankful he did because at this angle with you reaching for that height: your little cotton panties suctioned against your pussy lips become visible beneath that teeny pleated skirt. A studded belt hangs limply around the loops.

The swell of your ass is more obvious from down here, too.

Jimmy hangs a little more to the side, slowly fishing out his phone and holding it at his chest. Eyes drawing toward the screen as he ensures his flash is off before snapping a far away picture. Then two fingers crawl over the glass, pinching at your cunt and zooming in for another three pics.

Briefly, he wonders if he could get away with reaching out and pulling aside the gusset for the holy grail of shots.

Just as his hands are twitching to carry out the mull-over, you’re fucking turning. Sweaty and huffing,

“Okay, fine, can you grab this?”

Jimmy pockets his phone with an eye roll and easily swipes the orange-lidded jar into your cart.

Not at dinner.

“You get this every night?” Jimmy asks, undeniably lewd with thighs sprawled apart on the chair. A hand clutching either knee.

Curly shrugged, hands politely folded over his abdomen, “Not every night. Sometimes we order in.”

“Your own housewife in training,” Jimmy whistles, watching you at the stove and not bothering to temper his volume, “Guy that puts a ring on it will be lucky.”

Out of minuscule respect for Curly, Jimmy decides against vocalizing the rest of his statement.

Still, though, Curly has the gall to look offended. Broad chest puffing out and thick jaw setting into a disturbed square. Hands curling around each other less politely now, and his knee starts bouncing as he says,

“Won’t need a husband when dad’s here for her.”

Jimmy can only laugh as you visibly cringe upon the utterance of that dreaded ‘D’-word.

“What do you think of that, kid?” Jimmy rolls one elbow over the back of his chair, spare hand now flattening over the table, “No husband, just Dad.”

“He’s not my dad…” you grumble, not unlike that pouty, sulky teenager you were when you and Jimmy first met.

“Well, any dating prospects?” it’s the most tender Jimmy has been with you yet, and by the immediate glow in your face he can read your appreciation.

Curly, however, is the one to answer -a much more rotten expression written over his face, “No,” he frightens himself with how aggressively the two letters spit out, so he tries again with the tiniest, fakest chuckle, “No suitors yet.”

And now you’re pissed, glaring at Curly before whipping right back around.

Jimmy revels in it. Watching you and your step-dad silently bat one argument over the other. He wonders if you two really think it’s all over his head.

And certainly not at night.

On the way to your room is Curly’s. Curly is a deep sleeper, so Jimmy has never felt more assured than right now as he twists the handle on your bedroom door.

Unlocked. As it should be. Your sweet heart entirely unassuming to the dangerous wiles of men twice your age.

He bets your pussy is even sweeter than your heart. It has to be when your personality is so gratingly cliche. Maybe by the end he’ll be even more bewitched by you than Curly.

The thought makes him snort.

Steadily planting a knee onto your marshmallow mattress, Jimmy soothes one hand over your thigh -- kicked over fluffy pink blankets. Soft skin that bounces right back into place. Firm and dewy. Your body embraces him completely, which he already knew it would.

A crackly groan makes his eyes dart from your thigh to your face scrunching at the sudden contact.

Silently, he squeezes, just to see the exact moment you rouse behind those batting lashes.

Initially, you smile -tight-lipped- until your bleary vision makes out the figure on your bed. That exact moment, when you realize who’s groping up your thigh, is when your smile tears apart.

“Calm down,” he husks into the open air of your bedroom, calloused palms cutting along your waist and pausing at the warmth of your collar bones, “It’s just Uncle Jimmy.”

Now is when you kick. A startled gasp shoved back behind the palm of his hand, fingers clamping tight around your jaw. He swings a leg over yours, effectively straddling your pelvis. Grinding down between your legs, something thick and hard protruding from the loose stripes of his pajama pants.

“Feel that?” he taunts, pressing against you harder, lowering his face by yours until the stiff scruff along his cheeks is tearing up your soft skin, “That’s my dick, and it’s going inside you.”

A scream is muffled against his thick palm, you smack at his ribs but he pushes forward without constraint, wrenching up your silk candy slips. The sleaziest little smirk smears over his entire face as your boobs spill out, he cuffs the material to your throat. Pressing your legs open with his own, kneeling on one of your thighs with his full weight and you’re sure the bone’s going to snap. Another scream dies against his meaty hand.

Reaching up, you knot one hand in his stringy hair -yanking out chunks of chestnut- and crushing fingerprints into his eyes.

“Be -fuckin’- nice,” Jimmy tugs you down the bed, blanketing your body with his, “to Uncle Jimmy, yeah?” he snickers in your wide-eyed, sweaty face, quickly swapping the hand over your mouth with his lips. Spearing your face open with his tongue, slobbering over you.

Burying your knees into Jimmy’s sides does about as much as it would if you flicked paper in his face.

Jimmy peels off your thin lace panties, balling them up in one hand and yoinking down his pants with the other. Stretchy hem now digging halfway down his thighs, he taps the hot head against your clit. Then sliding it down your slit, highlighting around your hole with two circles. Grunting against your lips, sinking just beneath the seam to drag back up toward the twitchy little pink bundle up top.

Licking over your tongue one final time, he saps up the final sweet mint taste from your toothpaste before pulling back. Pecking you, outrageously chaste for a man now bruising your tits with his fingers, before parting altogether.

Sneering, “Keep quiet for me,” and stuffing your own panties into your sodden, swollen mouth.

Jimmy heaves your knees over his shoulders, bending over you before sliding in -- staring you dead in the eyes as he lets out the most dramatic huff. You gasp as he sheathes in a single swing, throwing your head back at the sudden stretch with a grunt following.

“Soft and warm,” he hums, biting at your pulse with sick glee, “Tight.”

You wail in protest, but it gurgles out a little sweeter. Just a tad higher pitched than you mean for. Eyes watering and back arching as you try budging for even slight breathing room.

Stubbornly, Jimmy locks his chest against your bouncing tits. Eyes needling down at the pillowing flesh, hard nipples peeking out with every ragged thrust. Thrusts that get smoother, steadier, wetter the longer he’s inside you.

Cold teeth dig into your neck, velvet tongue laving the area as he sucks welts along your skin. Hot pants fanning the juncture with every gushy dive of his hips. Then he laughs out the cruelest dig when that first splat rings around the sweltering room:

“Take it so good, princess,” just to continue with a snide, “Knew you would.”

Biting down on your spit-soaked panties provides superficial comfort, squeals still leaking from the corners of your mouth. Muffled, but not silenced.

“What would your old man think about this?” he chokes, pulling up enough to stare down at your pinched face, “You’re gonna cum for me.”

One of his hands settles over your throat, crushing the sides warmly. Not enough to actually choke you, but just so there’s bruises by tomorrow morning.

“He’ll have to get rid of one of us,” Jimmy hisses coldly, now scarring his bottom lip with crooked teeth, brows furrowing as his cock twitches in your sucking cunt.

it better be you he thinks curly was mine before you

He spits down onto where you’re swallowing him up -- frothy spit dribbling cooly over your clit and along the broken seam he fucks. Instinctually, your hips buck up for it -for more. Thighs clamping around his neck and throat bobbing with a trapped moan.

A practically inaudible yadyyee manages to break past your gag, Jimmy snickers as you crow louder aaatyyyy as you seize around and below him. Eyes flying open and nails scratching up to reopen silvery scars on his arms as you nearly choke on your own slick panties.

“And is this the part when I call you ‘baby’?” he draws a thumb beneath your shiny lip, spit webbing your skin together, “Whore,” is what he chooses instead, “Cumming like the pretty slut I knew you were.”

And just like the slut he knew you were the second he saw you, you grind into his pistoning. Tears caking your lashes and cheeks flaming hot, your body still caves to any attention it’s given.

He knew it the second you were introduced to him. In a spaghetti strap and short shorts with bleached bangs. Dressed like every other little pornstar in the making. Hellbent on catching as many eyes as possible just to rip it away like he was some yippy puppy content to be played with and walked and given little treats. Maybe your dad was, but Jimmy never had that paternal instinct.

Jimmy just wanted to defile you.

And now you live under the same roof: you’re all his.

Last minute, Jimmy slides out easier than he went in and beats his cock into your pubes. Rivulets of your wetness roll down the curve of your ass with nothing to plug you up, sheets darkening beneath you.

Tugging your panties out so hard he nearly knocks out a tooth, Jimmy balls them again and licks up the drool from your chin. Knuckles catching your overstimulated clit as he frantically jerks off, hips cracking forward until your pelvis is streaked in thick white ropes.

Pitchy and broken you wail, “Daddy…!”

Jimmy could’ve cackled in your face, if not for the sound of metal clicking over his shoulder.

And maybe the sight before him -Curly in the doorway, clutching the brass knob hard enough for his knuckles to whiten- could’ve been terrifying. Men kill other men for touching their daughters, after all. But all that intimidation flies out your window, decorated with the daintiest peach curtains, as soon as Jimmy spots the tent in Curly’s boxers.

Curly reads the electric glint in his old friend’s eyes. Something bright and livelier than he’s seen from the man in a long while.

Something that makes him feel relieved he doesn’t have to keep the medicine cabinet locked.

Something that says: I know why your wife left you.

*** ***

[A Side: Grant Curly]

“It’s late, Grant…”

“I told you not to call me that.”

An eye roll is the last thing he wants to see. He scowls, drunkenly, and shoves his head into his hands with all the indignity of a child.

“You really think drinking makes you easier to talk to? It’s no wonder you make her so…”

“So what?”

The stilted silence preceding a sigh tells him the what he needs to know. Unhappiness permeates the house now. Having it all pinned on him feels so fucking unfair, so fucking untrue.

“You know what,” another sigh, this time more playful -more throaty and evidently annoyed, “Daddy.”

“I thought marriages didn’t fall apart until at least the fifth year…” he pouts up at you, again with all the righteousness of a toddler.

You smack his arm, “You guys have been dating longer, anyway. Besides, you kinda knew it wasn’t gonna work out, right?”

“I thought we’d be okay.”

Two hands settle on either of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle between his shoulder blades and up toward his stiff neck. Pulling tense flesh until he’s all malleable and soft again.

Curly groans, pleased, and leans into your touch. Laying his head against the back of the couch to stare up at you. A lopsided smile gracing his lips as he confesses with whiskey-slick lips,

“You’re a blessing, sweetheart.”

You grace him with one of those humble, tight-lipped grins that make him all gooey in the center. A paternal feeling, he’s sure.

Whenever your mother upsets him, you’re there.

More things make Curly want to kill himself than they don’t these days. He has the sick urge to fellate a gun after most minor inconveniences, and suddenly the only way he can feel true joy is when someone half his age is fawning over him. It should be another reason he wants to die, but it isn’t. You could never be.

He places a thick hand on yours and grins, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Looping both arms around his neck, you settle your heated cheek over the back of Curly’s head and squeeze. Flushing your breasts against his back with a sugary whisper, “Probably die miserable.”

“Probably,” he reaches up to squeeze your wrist.

Knowledge would be him pushing you off right now. Wisdom would be kicking you out of his house. But that ripe, sweating instinct makes him encourage you to slither over the back of the couch.

He pulls at your cropped sweater, laughing in your flustered face as you giggle. Legs wild before you’re slipping into his lap, thighs spreading yours apart with his hands on your hips. Thumbs scarring up your bare ribs.

“How are you so like her, but so different?” he wonders aloud.

“I dunno…” you shrug off shyly. Hips ticking against his.

“Mhmm,” he lets you and leans back, eyes fluttering shut as warmth eats him from both directions. Your body is sweet while the alcohol is savory. Both ways, he’s treated with nothing but love.

Then there’s your lips on his cheek, he smiles into it. Turns his head just to kiss the air above your own cheek as he sighs,

“Thank you, baby.”

“Daddy,” your hips cant down harder and now he has to plant both feet firmly in the ground to keep from thrusting up. That would just be inappropriate, right? But no more inappropriate than what you utter next, “Can I suck you off?”

His eyes peel open one at a time. Bloodshot. Confused, “Huh?”

“I know Mom doesn’t,” you grind down on him again. The material of your oversized sleep shirt riding up. Nothing but pink lace panties greet him. Damp and sticking to his shorts, “But I really want to…”

“Uhh,” maybe if you could let him think for a second, he’d have replied better. Maybe if you could stop rubbing that wet cunt on him for even one breath, he could’ve given you the emphatic NO you deserved. But you didn’t, so he didn’t.

Instead, he just sat you on the floor and waved with one hand while the other came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Fine, fine, yes.”

Already, the carpet burns your knees. But you rock forward and unclink his buttons.

Without technique, but eager and hungry: your mouth sinks onto his cock. Feeling it twitch and thicken on your tongue as you whine. Hollowing your cheeks with both hands burying manicured nails into his meaty thighs. Noisily slurping the spit dribbling past your gaping lips.

Sucking more than you can handle, trying to impress Grant by tickling your nose with his wiry gold pubes just makes you gag. An abrupt gush of thick slobber waxing his pelvis.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, throwing his head back with bending brows, “Be careful, honey, don’t hurt yourself…”

Despite himself, he’s knotting hand at the back of your head. Not-so-subtly pushing your forehead against his abs.

Curly cannot verbally explain or comprehend his relationship with you in labels, the guilt just eats him up.

The comfort of a stepdaughter should be non-existent -or at the least temporary, but you’re still here. You love him and he adores you. He has no strength to beat you away.

*** he really should just die ***

Little under a year spins by before his phone rings, interrupting the unquestioned domesticity.

You caught bits of that call while perched on the kitchen counter. Bare legs left to swing while Curly stirred creamer into his coffee. His old Pony Express shirt swamped over you. A girl’s voice blisters out from the other side. You glare at the speaker in juvenile jealousy despite how displeased Curly seems to be listening to her.

Occasionally he’ll nod, no matter how ridiculous the notion is given you’re the only one looking. Jaw popping. Fingers tapping.

“But he’s alive?” is the first thing of substance he says.

Curly is Jimmy Zare’s emergency contact because Jimmy never had a Misses or a Senior to count on. Not even the highly inappropriate relationship with a young girl to lean on.

You assume that is all connected to the phone call that suddenly has him all serious.

“Okay. I’ll be out there soon,” he nods again, making you want to rip his head off it’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes, “He can stay with me… I’ll be sure.”

He doesn’t look your way after hanging up. Instead, he spares a few minutes blankly staring into the cabinets.

Curly thinks Jimmy is like the sun. Big and angry and burning with barely contained passion. Making Curly mercury: small and burnt and the first to be swallowed when Jimmy inevitably blows up.

It’s so cute how stupid he is sometimes.

“Grant?” you murmur, head tilting.

He finally satisfies your need for attention. Eyes widening as if he spontaneously forgot and then remembered who he’s looking at. He smiles tightly and pats your knee like he’s trying to comfort a child after a lost softball game,

He even speaks to you like one.

“Uncle Jimmy’s staying with us for a bit,” before you can ask anything more, he turns away toward the front door, “Try not to fight with him.”

“Eugh… He’s weird!” you protest, “Can’t he stay at a hotel?!”

Curly pokes his head out and shakes it, disappointed, at you, “He’s staying with us,” then disappears to announce, “I’m going to pick him up! Be dressed when we get back!”

You wait until he’s slammed the front door behind him before muttering, “I am dressed.”

Uncle Jimmy is the type of person men shouldn’t trust their daughters with, so maybe this is a step forward. Somewhere in the knotted affair your life became, a gleaming light assures you this means Grant has his eyes on a new Mrs. Curly.

It’s so cute how stupid step-daughters are sometimes.

@toxycodone / @maniacpixiedreamboy + @xyfanficarchive + @m-carriaga2021 + @reniverse

#jimmy x reader #mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing smut #curly smut #jimmy smut #tw noncon

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erodasfishtacos · 6 months ago

Text

Conflict of Interests (roommatesbf!h)

prompt: yn knows that she has a bit of a crush on her roommate/friend's bf but until an opportunity is put in her lap, she tries her best to resist.

word count: 9k

warnings: not necessarily infidelity yet but there's some shady business, mff, fxf

author's note:

There is 3 more parts to this up on patreon.

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2-3 one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here!

++ YN was pretty open, easy to say ‘yes’, and take risk but she wasn’t careless.

She weighed the reward versus the consequence, trying to make as much of an informed decision as she can before jumping in the metaphorical deep-end.

However, she had absolutely miscalculated and found herself reaping the consequences of her actions.

A ruined friendship, an empty second bedroom because said friend had moved out, and a few of their friends who were taking sides.

They weren’t on hers.

YN should have said ‘no’, at the time she knew she shouldn’t have, it would lead to nothing good because of how YN actually felt about Harry.

YN and Kay had been friends for years, meeting in senior year of high school when Kay had to transfer schools because of her father getting a job change.

They hit it off right away, deciding to room in college together, and now they had moved from a tiny dorm to more of a spacious apartment.

Kay and YN have lived together for three years at this point, they rarely had any issues, an occasional stolen yogurt or leaving laundry in the washer but nothing that shook the foundation of their friendship.

Until Harry walks into their lives.

Well quite literally walks into her bedroom while she’s getting dressed.

YN was going out to dinner with her family, her brother was in town and they were meeting at an Italian restaurant a few blocks down.

It was a fancier restaurant which meant that YN was buzzing around her room and connecting bathroom, hair and makeup done except for lipstick and hairspray.

YN had her high-waisted trousers already buttoned snugly against her hips but was trying to find a shirt that worked well with the dressy bottoms.

YN had a strapless bra on but the shirt she finds that she wants to wear looks better without, she tosses the shirt on the bed, and unclasps her bra.

She had just tossed it to the side, to put away later when her door opened.

It doesn’t initially alarm her, Kay has a tendency to not knock or generally respect the idea of privacy so when YN turns to see what she wants.

However, it is not Kay.

It is a man.

A stupidly attractive man whose eyes become as wide as saucers, his big baseball mit of a hand smacks over his eyes to cover them, and starts rambling an apology.

“Who the fuck are you?” YN screeches as she reaches for the first thing she can find, her fleece throw as she holds it over her chest, heart pounding.

“M’so fucking sorry, I-“ The man’s voice is low, a deep drawl and a bit morbid as he keeps his eyes covered with a tattooed hand.

“What’s going on?” Kay appears in the doorway, a smirk tweaking at the corner of lips, “Harry, I told you the door on the left.”

“This is the door on the left,” Harry replies in a higher pitch, which was still ridiculously deep as he stands there, trying to stay as still as a statue.

“Oh shit, I meant my left,” Kay giggles as she moves to tug at his elbow which he very resistantly starts to let her move his face covering, “She’s decent now.”

Harry blinks a few time, his cheeks were twinged a bright pink akin to the tone of bubblegum as he meets YN’s eye sheepishly.

“I am so sorry,” Harry apologizes again, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he was handsome - even if this sounded awful, completely out of Kay’s league.

It wasn’t that Kay wasn’t pretty, she was but Harry could have just walked out of some expensive cologne advert even in his jeans and black tee.

His tattoos were dark, no color to be found and it’s a contrast against his tanned skin like he had just been on a vacation with the golden tint.

“It’s okay. It’s completely Kay’s fault,” YN tries to crack a joke, easing the tension because though YN was actually quite proud of her body, she liked her breasts and didn’t mind who saw them - most of the time.

YN still managed to feel self-conscious about what Harry had thought because he looked like that and she felt a weird jolt of butterflies about it.

“But doesn’t she have the nicest pair of tits you’ve ever seen?” Kay nudges Harry, wrapping her hand around his massive bicep as best she can.

“Kay,” YN scolds as she holds the blanket closet, feeling super bare now.

“I’m just saying! I can’t help but stare when I see them,” Her friend shrugs, she had the tendency to be crude, crass, and frankly too much.

Harry has his bottom lip tucked between his two front teeth, eyes now not making contact with YN’s, “C’mon, Kay. Stop embarrassing her. It was an accident and I don’t want to objectify her.”

YN is oddly touched by his respectfulness, she felt like most guys would just openly agree with Kay which would have made her feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” YN replies, voice softer and the gaze she shares with Harry feels unusually intense before she’s clearing her throat, “Um, I need to put a shirt on.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry tugs Kay in the direction of the door with one more apologetic glance before he’s closing it behind him.

YN’s stomach does a weird flip, what the fuck.

7 months later +

Harry and Kay are dating.

Which YN is a bit, scratch that, a lot confused by because they just seem like the most unlikely match but not just looks-wise.

Harry is quiet, doesn’t really talk unless he’s asked a question or has something to add to the conversation but he does not speak just to speak.

He does subtle things that he thinks people do not notice and usually don’t (YN does)

The way he will close a cabinet right by YN’s head so she doesn’t accidentally bump into it as she cooks without saying anything.

If he knows YN has a late day at work, he turn on a lamp in the entryway so she doesn’t have to stumble around in the dark and she knows it’s him because Kay wouldn’t be that thoughtful.

Plus she caught him once, he had awkwardly shrugged and said that he didn’t want her tripping and getting hurt before disappearing back down the hall to Kay’s room.

YN has a smile for quite a few minutes after that.

+_+

Kay and Harry are not affectionate which is interesting.

Kay was handsy, typically clinging onto her boyfriend at any time, and their group of friends groaning about the obnoxious amount of PDA.

Not them.

Harry did small gestures here or there like squeeze her shoulder or put his hand on her back, rarely throw an arm over her shoulder at a restaurant or bar.

YN also didn’t hear them from the bedroom.

Kay didn’t have a volume control button, it didn’t take detective-like skills to tell when she was being intimate with someone because of the noise.

It made YN’s skin crawl because it was obvious that they were over-exaggerated, high-pitched moans that made her roll her eyes and couldn’t believe the guys she brought home believed they were real.

But no, YN heard nothing ever.

And Harry was constantly over, Kay had told YN that Harry’s housemate was a nightmare which had him trying to get out of the house as soon as possible.

Harry was just…perfect.

YN knows she shouldn’t been thinking that but he is the closest thing to perfection that she has ever seen or met without a doubt.

On top of his thoughtfulness, he listened and was actually paying attention, no phone in his face, no half ass agreements.

Meanwhile, YN witnesses Kay constantly on her phone while Harry was trying to have a conversation with her - nodding and say “mhm” without looking up.

YN could see the frustration that he’s trying to taper down but that’s when she’ll jump in to let him know that she was paying attention.

The dimples that appear in his cheeks are all the reward that she needs to know that she’s doing that right thing.

Her heart aches a bit because of the crush she wants to have on such an off-limits person, so she’ll push it into the back, the darkest crevice in her mind.

Harry would most likely be mortified to know the shit thay YN thought while he was just trying to be friendly.

It was just that she couldn’t get a ready in them as a couple and that was driving her a bit insane.

Well YN was actually questioning whether she was crazy because she had moment where she thought that Harry was actually going out of his way to do things for her than his own girlfriend.

Then the bathroom incident happens.

YN really, truly didn’t know that Harry was here.

She heard the shower running and assumed that it was Kay in there.

YN and Kay didn’t have much off-limits, it wasn’t out of the norm for her to pop into the bathroom to brush her teeth or pee when Kay was in there or vice versa.

So YN doesn’t think much of opening the bathroom door to grab her hairbrush she had left in there but only she was not met with what she expected.

It was a standing shower, with a glass door which meant there was no privacy for the person if someone came in and holy shit.

Harry was under the stream with his head tilted down, he was running a washcloth over his stomach and holy fuck, she didn’t realize how built he was.

She hadn’t seen him shirtless before, yes, she could gather that he was in shape by the way his biceps flexed or how defined his thighs were when he wore shorts but this was unreal.

YN’s eyes find the harsh vee that is tattooed with laurels, that is leading downwards towards…

“I’m sorry!” YN squeaks out, halfway into the bathroom and her hand extended towards her brush but her muscles lock and she’s frozen for a good half minute, “Oh my god, shit!”

Harry turns at the sound, confusion momentarily crossing his face but he doesn’t seem bothered, does nothing to try to cover himself.

YN was repeating over and over to herself to not look there but she couldn’t ignore that’s where her eyes went first, wanting to continue because he was thick, heavy, and he wasn’t even hard.

YN turns to leave but doesn’t realize that she has stepped on Harry’s discarded clothes which means her foot slips out from under her.

She attempts to steady herself by grabbing the countertop but it is just out of reach as a yelp exits her mouth, falling into a lump of limbs.

Her lip is throbbing because her teeth sliced through the thin skin when she accidentally bit down, her fingertips coming to press against where the blood begins to dribble.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses as he watches all of this go down in the span of a minute flat, he’s reaching to turn off the faucet before he’s stepping out.

YN cannot fully appreciate Harry in his dripping wet, tanned skin, naked glory because her eyes are foggy with fat tears of embarassment and pain.

Harry grabs his towel, wrapping it haphazardly around his waist, threatening to slip off at any minute when he kneels down.

“Darling, what on earth?” Harry rasps, his eyes tracing her over, his hand coming to cup the side of her face as he holds her still.

He picks up his discarded shirt, pressing the soft cotton to her lip with pressure to stop the bleeding, his voice was comforting and entirely sweet enough to give her a toothache.

“You’re okay, s’okay. Calm down f’me,” Harry coos softly, stroking her hair as the other keeps the shirt against her lip, “I know, I know.”

Just the small little reassurances were digging YN into a deep, treacherous dark hole because she’d never had a boyfriend who would baby her as much as he was doing.

And that’s when YN realizes it, Harry has been babying her the entire time he’s been with Kay, and he just doesn’t do the same for her.

YN was too frazzled to delve any deeper into that right now.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it was Kay in the shower. I am so so sorry-“ YN is trying to tell him through choked sobs, unable to blink the tears away fast enough.

“Stop apologizing, dove. You didn’t know, the tears are killing me though. I haven’t seen you cry before and it’s just as heartbreaking as I would imagine,” Harry frowns, he was still dripping and it was dampening YN’s clothes.

“My lip hurts,” YN huffs out with a edge of a whine, god, it was so easy for her to fall into this baby role with him and let him take care of her, “And I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” Harry asks as he dabs at her lip, checking to see how steady the flow of blood is before pressing it back.

“I just barged in on you showering and then ate shit, I’ve never had a worse moment of embarrassment,” YN informs him, her face felt hot and she had to stop herself from looking towards the split in his towel.

Jesus Christ, this was her friend's boyfriend and she was swooning like a girl with her first crush in elementary school - she needed to pull herself together.

“S’just me,” Harry murmurs softly, taking the shirt away and watching her mouth for a moment before sitting back, “Nothing to be embarassed by.”

YN and Harry make eye contact which makes her stomach flip in a way that it shouldn’t because he’s off limits but he’s nice and beautiful and naked.

YN swallows harshly as she fails to find a reply.

Harry takes his hand away which she misses as soon as it’s gone, standing up before reaching down to pull her up as well.

“Let me dry off, go change, and I’ll make us dinner, yeah?” Harry says as he brushes a strand of stray hair off of her forehead.

“Yeah,” YN agrees dumbly, hands still shaking and her heart felt like it had just run a marathon with how fast her blood was pumping through it.

“Will you be okay for a minute?” Harry is still checking, he’s a worrier and that much is obvious through his words and facial expression.

YN chuckles out a light snort, not her most attractive moment, “Or what, can I hold your hand and wait while you change?”

It was absolutely and completely meant to be a joke, a sarcastic quip because of course she was okay enough to walk to her bedroom.

Harry doesn’t smile, not really, his voice ever steady and morbid as he replies, “I don’t mind. S’nothing you haven’t seen before now. If it makes you feel better.”

YN throat tightens, the urge to flea was becoming stronger because he wasn’t being outwardly flirty, he was being kind but it still felt wrong - at least because YN was struggling to stay just friendly.

There was nothing in Harry’s words that were overtly sexual or persuasive, his demeanor didn’t give much of anything away either.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” YN manages to tell him before scurrying out of the bathroom as fast as humanly possible.

Even more guilt came when she was undressing, resisting the urge to touch herself to the mental image of Harry stepping out of the shower.

Where the deep vee had lead into trimmed hair that got a bit darker, thicker around the base of his -

“Stop,” YN scolds herself as she tugs on new underwear.

Harry had made it a point not to objectify her when he accidentally saw her chest but YN was better than no man as her mind kept going back to the sheer size and beauty of Harry’s cock.

Anyways.

YN was a shit friend right now.

End of story.

YN takes a little bit longer than necessary to exit her room, feeling like she was doing a walk of shame when she enters the kitchen.

Harry was already chopping up veggies, a pot of water that wasn’t boiling just yet on the stovetop, and it was all very domestic.

YN walks up behind him, itching to put a hand of his back, rub over the lithe, bulky muscles there but instead drums her fingers against the countertop.

“Do you need any help?” YN asks, her voice sounded relatively back to normal by now.

Harry glances over at her, his smile faltering slightly as he puts down the knife, and brings his thumb to her bottom lip again.

“You really did a number on yourself, dove,” Harry tells her, displeased as he traces over the puffy skin, eyes still studying her face.

YN’s heart rate spikes up like she didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes trying to regulate so that she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out.

It was impossible for her to decipher right now if Harry was just genuinely an affectionate, touchy person or whether he was flirting with her.

Not once has YN seen Harry touch her in the same way he was doing to her now - delicate, careful like she was made of the most breakable china he’d ever held.

There’s a jostle at the front door, a key turning into the lock, and YN jumps back out of his hold as he drops his hand, picking up the knife once again.

YN sits down at the kitchen table instead of trying to help, unlocking her phone, and trying to dissociate at whatever pops up on her timeline.

“What is this?” Kay laughs when she walks in, dropping her purse on one of the chairs as she smiles at YN before walking over and wrapping her arms around Harry from the back.

Harry…doesn’t stop cutting the vegetables but does tilt his head to the side look at her, she leans up to kiss his cheek before peeking over his shoulder, “Stir-fry?”

“With shrimp,” Harry tacks on as he turns back from her to focus on his work, his demeanor wasn’t necessarily drastically different but still…different.

Kay didn’t seem disgruntled by his attitude as she rubs his back for a few moments which YN tries to not get jeaous about because it’s not her place to be.

Then she’s plopping down in the chair beside YN, “Sorry, I forgot to text you and tell you I picked up an extra shift. Harry didn’t get the memo until he was already here.”

YN glares at her friend, “I know. I thought you were home, showering, and barged into the bathroom. Only to invade Harry’s privacy.”

Kay lets out a peel of laughter, eyes twinkling and completely unbothered, “It’s even now, right?”

“Huh?” YN asks, not sure what she meant as Harry turns around after adding the lo mein noodles to the boiling water, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

There was slight amusement at the tilt of his lips.

“He saw your tits. You saw his dick,” Kay shrugs with another hearty laugh, “You’ve got amazing tits. He’s got an insane dick so-“

“Kay,” Harry cuts in, a bit curt and disapproving, “It was all an accident. We don’t need to go into detail about what we all looked like naked.”

“Well you’re both hot and I’ve seen both of you naked, maybe I’m feeling a little inferior. I have a bombshell best friend and the hottest boyfriend. It makes me feel like chopped liver.”

Kay was looking for validation, specifically in Harry but he was not feeding into her behavior, “Kay, this really isn’t appropriate. Let’s drop it.”

It was not a suggestion.

However, that’s how Kay saw it.

“I’m just bragging, H. Chill out. Does it not inflate your ego if I talk about how big your dick is?” Kay was immature, admittedly and no better than a crude man on her best days - her thought patterns more perverse and blunt than most females.

“Kay,” Harry’s voice is sharp, a tone YN hasn’t hear before as he puts down the knife, “Let’s go to your room for a minute.”

YN sits awkwardly at the table, any butterflies from the interaction with Harry earlier we’re completely gone because of this.

YN could heard Harry’s voice raise, he wasn’t shouting but it was louder than his normal range of volume which lead her to believe they were fighting.

Kay was immature, Harry couldn’t train that out of her, and that’s why YN was surprised when she went for someone like Harry because she usually dated boys younger than her by a year or two - they matched maturities better.

YN stands up, walking over, and taking it upon herself to continue to chop the veggies while politely trying to ignore any of their conversation.

When they walk back out a few minutes later, Harry comes up beside her, just slightly bumping his hip against hers, and saying quietly, “Thanks, sucha good helper.”

It should sound patronizing but it doesn’t, Kay isn’t in here yet, and YN wonders if he would have said that in front of her.

Kay comes back a few minutes later, mood the same, and clearly trying to act like she didn’t just get chewed out by Harry as she makes small talk about work.

YN struggles to sleep that night.

Her stomach was rumbling because she didn’t indulge in too much of the stir-fry that he had cooked because of the tension between the couple.

Kay was making passive aggressive jabs in her ever cheery cadence while Harry gave her a very serious look, jaw twitching as he harshly chewed.

YN hid out in her room for the rest of the night.

Now it was biting her in the ass because she was starving.

As YN pads out, she has to go through the living, not thinking much when she flips the switch so that the floor lamp in the corner will illuminate some of the space.

There’s movement that makes her jump.

Harry was on the couch, YN had clearly woken him up as he stretched, trying to blink and adjust to the light as he takes in a deep inhale.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” YN turns off the lamp quickly, basking them in darkness again and muttering, “I can find the kitchen without the light.”

YN then proceeds to bump her thigh extremely hard into the side corner of their end table before she’s toppling over for the second time that day.

“Fuck, pet,” Harry curses, his voice sounded different, thick with sleep and a rasp that made it sound like he was a smoker, “What are you doing?”

Harry leans over, turning on the lamp, and squinting until he sees her on the floor, concern crossing his face as he pushes himself off the couch, and knelt beside her.

YN has tears prickling in her eyes, that really fucking hurt, she had already busted her lip today, and god, she looked like such a fucking idiot.

Harry’s voice goes soft again, like he’s just found an injured baby animal, “Oh darling, c’mon. These tears are too much. S’heartbreaking.”

“I just-“ YN hiccups, clutching her thigh that’s pulsing with her heartbeat, “I keep embarrassing myself in front of you and I don’t know why. Plus, my thigh hurts.”

Harry’s frown deepens, “You never need to be embarassed around me. Two times I’ve given your a surprise, s’on me, really. Let’s go put some ice on that.”

Harry helps YN up, guiding her to the kitchen and she yelps when she feels his big hands on her waist, placing her on the kitchen counter.

She was very aware that she was only wearing a big shirt with no pants on, a soft very tame pair of gray panties, and she flushed further.

Harry grabs a bag of frozen green beans, wrapping it in a hand towel, and taking it upon himself to nudge her shirt up her leg until he can place it in the injury.

“Why were you sleeping on the couch?” YN asks while she holds the bag in place, ignoring the ache.

Harry leans against the counter, opposite her, “Kay and I weren’t getting along. I decided to sleep on the couch so that we could have some space.”

“If this is about earlier, about the shower thing-“ YN begins to apologize.

“No, no,” Harry shakes his head, sighing heavily as he runs his hand through his hair, “We’re going through a rough patch in general. We’re just trying to get through it. We’re different in a lot of ways, we butt heads a lot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you can make things work,” YN replies softly, free hand picking at the raggedy hem of her shirt.

“Yeah,” Harry bites the corner of his lip, “Why are you awake?”

YN blinks at him, sheepish as she admits, “I’m hungry. Dinner was tense and I wanted to give you guys space. I didn’t eat enough.”

Harry’s expression becomes one of disapproval, “Pet, s’not a reason not to eat. Let me make you somethin’ as an apology.”

YN shakes her head, “You don’t have to do that. I can get something myself.”

“Please? It will make me feel better,” Harry insists, standing back up straight and scratching at his stomach, his hair a bit haywire.

He was so fucking attractive it was sickening.

And this man was sweet to her, offering to cook her meals, and exceeding any of her previous boyfriends - they weren’t even dating.

YN couldn’t determine whether Harry was flirting or just being kind, he didn’t treat Kay like this which was the off thing.

The exact opposite, it actually seemed cold and distant most of the time towards her, his patience limited and his mood dropped.

“Do you like pancakes?” Harry asks, already moving to the fridge to pull out ingredients, “I have a special recipe from my gran that makes ‘em extra fluffy.”

“I have an awful sweet tooth,” YN hides her eyes with her hand for a moment, “I’ll never say no to pancakes, especially if you add chocolate chips. You better be careful, I might fall in love.”

YN freezes because that was definitely not the best thing she could have said, her eyes go wide and lips part in her own surprise.

“I better make them with chocolate chips then,” Harry says casually as he turns to open the cabinet like YN didn’t just nearly have a heart attack nor like she didn’t have to squeeze her thighs together.

YN watches his back as he cooks, the defined muscles flexing when he stirs the batter.

“More,” YN orders from her seat on the counter, swinging her feet.

It felt horribly romantic when he turned around, a mixing bowl in the crook of his arm.

“No more, s’not a dessert,” Harry chides as he reaches over to sprinkle a few more into the mixture like he was easy for her.

“Thank you,” YN hums with a smile, she wishes it wasn’t late because soft music in the background would be even better.

When Harry pours two onto the hot pan, he doesn’t turn around and he keeps his voice steady, “I wouldn’t guess Kay and you would be friends.”

YN shouldn’t but she does, “I wouldn’t guess you and Kay would date.”

Harry shakes his head with a chuckle, “We are not very similar, are we?”

“No, usually Kay dates people very much like herself,” YN tells him, fingertips dancing against the countertop.

“Which is?”

YN bites her lip, trying to say it in the most gentle way, “I love her but she…marches to the beat of her own drum, she doesn’t take things too seriously, and can be reckless. She has a history of dating guys who are younger, don’t have their life planned out.”

Harry turns to look at her after flipping the pancakes, his eyes were intent but he didn’t seem offended by the words she spoke.

They weren’t meant to be offensive, they were the facts.

“And what am I?” Harry raises his eyebrow, “A too serious, stuck up prick?”

“Precisely,” YN grins wide enough that it takes up her entire face.

Harry narrows his eyes before they’re darting down to the bowl of batter.

“Harry, no,” YN laughs, trying to keep it down because Kay was sleeping and she really should be in her own room right now.

“Mm, I think so,” Harry swipes his finger in the mix before stalking forward.

YN had nowhere to run because she was still sat on the kitchen counter but she fruitlessly tries to scramble backwards.

Harry’s hand comes to her ankle, wrapping around to hold her as he leans forward and swipes it across her cheek as she kicks weakly at him.

“There we go,” Harry smirks as he moves back, not taking his hand away from her ankle, thumb pressing right under the bone.

YN and Harry both get quiet, chests moving quickly from the struggles, and she’s never felt this much sexual tension before in her life.

Harry’s other fingers press in, she finds herself wishing that they would move upward, it would be easy because she didn’t have anything beside underwear on her lower half.

When YN lets her limbs relax, her leg falls more into his grip, toes bumping at his hip, and his hand moves further to his calf.

They both seem to snap out of it at the same time, Harry is letting go and clearing his throat as YN pulls her leg back.

He turns back to the pancakes, sliding them off pan and onto an awaiting plate.

Harry takes a minute before he’s turning around again, eyes the slightest bit unsure, and YN doesn’t want there to be any awkwardness.

To dissolve the tension, she swipes her thumb along her cheek before popping it in her mouth, “Could use more cinnamon sugar.”

“S’plenty sweet,” Harry grunts as he hands it to her.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to but I haven’t had pancakes in forever,” YN doesn’t use her fork, picking it apart with her fingers and dipping it in the syrup.

Harry turns off the stove, placing the pan and mixing bowl in the sink, running some sudsy water in it as YN eats happily, her thigh no longer hurting - she thanks the chocolate chips for that.

“You’re starting to get sleepy again, huh?” Harry murmurs as YN hands him the empty plate, she nods in agreement, and she slips off the counter, tossing the frozen bag back in the freezer.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles, rubbing at her eye.

“Let me check your leg first,” Harry tells her, kneeling down in front of her, and holy shit, that was a sight for sore eyes to have him blinking up at her, “Yeah? Okay?”

“Okay,” YN’s mouth was dry like the sahara desert.

Harry lifts the hem of her shirt up to her hip, exposing her underwear a bit more than necessary but the thing is, she wanted him to see.

If Kay walked in right now, there would be no excuses, no justification that she would believe because of the heavy way they were both breathing and staring each other down.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses with a rasp, his fingertips pressing into her thigh, far enough from her injury that it doesn’t hurt.

YN thinks he’s referring to where she had bumped her leg but when she follows his gaze, it’s on her center where sure as shit there was a spot of her arousal.

Her eyes widen, embarrassed by his find, embarassed by how much she wants his mouth there - she’s never felt such a carnal craving like this before.

“I…” YN’s voice is breathy, high-pitched as she swallows down a whine of pure desire and deep, aching want.

She finds herself burying her fingers in his hair, it was partially to ground her, mostly to guide him towards where his eyes were set.

YN has never, repeat never, been so brazen in her life.

Her brain had shut off the part of her that had morals.

Harry is leaning in as she tugs at the roots of his hair, closer to her center where the want for him was tangible but he’s suddenly jolting back.

“We can’t. You know that, pet,” Harry sits back on his haunches, he scratches his jaw before pushing himself up off the floor.

He runs his hand through his hair, stress visible in his features as they tighten and the smile he gives YN was strained - his dimples didn’t pop.

“I’m sorry,” YN feels like a baby when her bottom lip starts to wobble, she should know better and it sucks how much she likes Harry.

“Don’t cry, s’my fault. Please don’t cry, darling,” Harry voice is hushed but soothing, he steps forward but YN takes a step back.

“I need to go back to my room, okay? We can act like none of this happened,” YN is a shit friend, but how would she even explain this to Kay?

YN doesn’t wait for a response, she’s turning on her heel, and booking it out of the kitchen - straight towards her bedroom to scream into her pillow.

YN tries to stay out of the house for a few days, going out with friends, taking an overtime shift at work, anything to avoid seeing Kay and Harry.

However, her luck runs out on day four when she’s comes home after her friend had to cancel plans due to a work thing and she had no choice but to head home.

Kay and Harry were on the couch, her feet were in his lap, and his hands were resting on her calves - there was no other cuddling and it looked rather platonic.

Neither of them look thrilled, but they at least give her a smile when she walks into the room.

While she’s in the kitchen, mixing ingredients for a salad together, she can hear their hushed voices, and it sounds tense once again.

Kay is speaking a bit louder, Harry has a bite in his tone that she has never heard but she couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about.

However, after another minute of their bickering, the front door shuts, and Kay is walking into the kitchen with an uneasy expression.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Kay starts as she sits on the countertop, her eyes only sporadically looking towards YN before darting away.

Oh shit, she knows.

She fucking knows.

YN is about to speak, to apologize, to grovel.

“This is really out of the blue. I don’t expect an answer from you right now or anything,” Kay is looking down at her hands, surprisingly vulnerable, “But I have a major favor.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” YN replies, putting down the mixing tongs and trying to regulate her irregular heartbeat from the spike in anxiety - this is where she gets caught, for what exactly, she doesn’t know but what happened a few nights ago in the kitchen wasn’t right.

“I…You’re bisexual, right?” Kay is visibly nervous, her fingers were trembling, and she was about to bite a hole through her upper lip, trapped between her teeth.

“Yes,” YN doesn’t know where this was going.

Kay knew this.

Kay had met girls YN had gone out with as well as guys.

“I…Fuck, just forget it,” Kay huffs out, acting like she’s about to slide off the counter to leave.

“You can tell me anything, come on,” YN reminds her, moving closer to rub her shoulder.

Kay looks at her hand on her shoulder, taking in a deep gulp before asking something that YN didn’t see coming from a million miles away.

“I want to try…being with a girl, you know? I just feel like there’s no spark sexually between Harry and I. I felt like there wasn’t one with a few of the last guys I dated too and I’m starting to think I’m the issue. Harry is gorgeous, sexy but I just…I don’t have a desire to jump in bed with him.”

That makes one of us, YN thinks.

“Kay…I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” YN pauses, she felt shaky now for a different reason.

“Will you…god, this is so fucking lame but I trust you. I want to hook up with you,” Kay blurts out finally, eyes wide and unsure, she was being vulnerable right now like she didn’t know how YN was going to respond.

YN swallows a gasp of surprise, of course it’s a surprise hearing that one of her best friends wants to sleep with her, to experiment.

“Is that what you and Harry were fighting about?” YN asks instead of giving her an answer, she needed more information before she said yes.

Kay was cute, attractive but wasn’t YN’s type. It wouldn’t necessarily be a hardship to hook up with her but she can say that it has never crossed her mind that she would want that.

“Not really,” Kay shrugs mulishly, “We discussed it. He doesn’t think that it’s a good idea that it’s with you, you know? But I feel comfortable with you, I don’t want to go out and find a random girl to try it out with.”

YN flushes at the thought of her having this conversation with Harry, with Harry telling Kay that it wasn’t a good idea, “He wants you to go hook up with a random girl?”

“He supports whatever decision I make to try to figure myself out a bit more. He didn’t tell me I could or couldn’t do anything but he wants to be there,” Kay adds another bombshell, like this already wasn’t insane enough.

“What?” YN’s eyes were wide as saucers.

This had to be a prank.

This was not real life right now.

Kay laughs nervously, “I know it’s insane, okay? Harry and I aren’t the norm though. Not at this point, I don’t know what I want but I don’t want to break up with him. I’m being selfish and he for some reason or another loves me enough to see this through.”

The thought of Kay and Harry talking about love makes her stomach churn when she has no right to feel nauseous thinking about that.

“He suggested I find someone we could have a threesome with,” Kay was finally starting to make more consistent eye contact but YN doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this unsure of herself as she picks at her bottom lip.

“And he is okay with it being me?” YN clarifies, it’s not for the right reasons, she wants to know that Harry wants her just as much - it’s not right.

“Like I said, he thought it would be better if it was someone less close but I always really thought that you were attractive and…yeah,” Kay trails off before actually answering the question, “He said that if I ended up choosing you, that would be okay with him too. He didn’t care either way.”

YN feels like an asshole for feeling disheartened about it, that he wasn’t jumping on the chance to sleep with her without any strings attached, it made her feel a bit anger like he was leading her on but she was quite sure that she wasn’t imagining things.

“I’ll do it, yeah,” YN agrees with a wary smile, “Anything to help you out.”

“You’re the best,” Kay squeals, suddenly excited and all the nervousness that had seemed to have left her body as she jumps off the counter, and very unexpectedly steps into YN’s space, cupping her cheeks, and bringing her in for a kiss.

YN’s freezes for a moment, just taken aback by the action but Kay’s lips are soft, she doesn’t want to push her off and make her feel embarrassed, and it had been awhile since she had any intimacy so it wasn’t unwelcome.

Kay tasted like something sweet as she parts her lips, YN finds herself slipping her tongue into her mouth, and though the feeling isn’t nearly as fiery as it was when Harry just merely touched it, it still felt nice.

YN doesn’t know how long they stay like that, YN with her hips pushed back against the countertop, and Kay boxing her in, hands not wandering much, keeping one of the side of her neck, and the other on the curved space between her ribcage and hipbone.

Long enough that someone clears their throat and makes them jump apart.

Harry.

He was back, with a bag of groceries in his hand, and a downright scary expression on his face.

His eyebrows are knitted tightly together, a crease in the space that exists, his lip was twitching to hide the way he was grinding his molars together but the flex of his jaw gave away what his was doing as he loudly lets the bag spill onto the table.

It’s almost worse that he does not say anything or acknowledge it.

“I’m making eggplant parmigiana,” Is all the he says, without looking at either of them, and unloading this onto the countertop surface with a bit more force than necessary.

YN knew her lips were puffy, swollen from how into Kay had been.

It was…nice but YN wasn’t necessarily disappointed that they got interrupted either, she wasn’t dying to do anything further either.

Not like how she would have done just about anything to have a few more minutes with Harry that night.

YN questions whether any of this was true, whether Kay really did discuss it with Harry because by the way his shoulders were bunched up and his movements were sharp and almost agitated, it really didn’t seem like he was okay with sharing his girlfriend.

“I’m going to go out for a bit,” YN wasn’t planning on it but she really didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever conversation was about to happen.

“YN, no. You don’t have to,” Kay starts to assure her, glaring over at Harry like she wants him to change his attitude but he doesn’t look at either of them nor does he give any input as he starts to take items out of the bag.

“No, I had plans already,” She lies, quickly retreating from the kitchen and into her bedroom.

It’s no surprise when she hears their voices travel back towards her bedroom, they’re not yelling at each other but it’s definitely not a gentle, easygoing conversation if the way it echoes is anything to go by.

YN frantically texts a few friends, begging to see if anyone was willing to go to eat or get drinks because she wanted to try to be out of the house as late as possible tonight, hopefully not getting home until both of them were asleep.

YN is lucky enough that her friend, Mindy, invites her to tag along to a work outing that they were having to celebrate the startup company’s anniversary.

It was at a bar in the middle of the city where the drinks were comped and it was easy to let the liquor slip down her throat, again and again as she took advantage of the free alcohol to ease the mindfuck that had happened to her earlier.

Did Kay really suggest those things?

Did Kay really kiss her?

YN drank until those questions became a bit quieter and she became a lot more fuzzy.

YN was still happily buzzed when she was dropped off by the uber at her apartment building's doorstep, not drunk enough that she stumbled as she made her way in but not sober enough that she didn’t have to squint at the numbers on the elevator panel until they made sense.

YN was uncoordinated on a good day so any alcohol just made that amplified, it was a mission to try to riffle through her small clutch to find her housekeys - it was a tiny bag, where could they be?

She tries the doorhandle just to see if they had left it unlocked but they didn’t which makes her thump her head against the wood of the door as she blearly brings her clutch closer to her face to dig through, her lip gloss falling to the ground.

“Shit,” YN huffs as she leans down, hearing the click of the lock being turned and the door is opening.

YN stands up to see Harry at the door, a pissy expression on his face but he doesn’t look like he has been sleeping despite the late hour, it had to be past two in the morning by this point because she truly did lose track of time.

He doesn’t say anything but steps aside to let her in.

“You’re killin’ my buzz,” YN grumbles as she steps through the doorway, leaning down to attempt to unstrap her heels but then she actually does trip over her own feet like a baby deer learning how to walk on new legs.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Harry replies in the most morbid, monotone drawl - not one ounce of sincerity in his voice.

When she stumbles again, Harry grips her arm, “Enough. Sit down. I don’t need you getting injured for a third time for fucks sake.”

YN frowns, she doesn’t like how cold and distant he sounds but she does like the pressure of his hand on her body.

She easily obliges, sitting down on the entryway bench, and he kneels down in front of her.

YN’s heart rate spikes because it’s extremely reminiscent of that night.

“Kay kissed me,” YN blurts out, trying to keep her voice down, unsure of whether her friend was still awake but she highly doubted, she regrets the words as soon as they slip out, she didn’t mean to throw her friend under the bus but she didn’t want Harry to be mad at her.

Harry bites at the corner of his lip as he undoes the strap around the ankle of her right foot, slow and methodical, focused without looking up at her, “Did you want her to kiss you?”

YN is a bit taken aback by the sharpness of his tone.

When she doesn’t respond, he blinks up at her from under his lashes, his eyes were unfairly pretty under the yellowish light from the fluorescents of the lamp on the entryway table - green with nearly golden specks, flickering through and highlighted.

“Did you want her to kiss you?” Harry repeats, cold, distant, nothing like his norm.

YN doesn’t know how to reply.

Honesty is the best policy and the warm liquor that was running through her veins was helping the cause that would have normally been much harder for her to speak her mind. YN feels fat tears welling up in her eyes, the kind that sting, mixing her makeup into the saline that starts to make her blink furiously - using the heel of her palm to roughly swipe them away.

Harry slips off the first shoe, setting it neatly to the side before looking up at her again, waiting for the answer, “Tell me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, it’s hard to maintain the intense eye contact that he was giving her as she shrugs, mulish and unsure, “It was unexpected.”

Harry seems to hesitate for a moment, “Did you enjoy kissing her?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that Kay didn’t hear, hoping that he didn’t repeat this to Kay.

“It wasn’t bad,” YN skirts the question.

Harry puts his hand on her knee, gripping gently, “Talk to me. I know she threw a lot at you at once.”

“You don’t want me to be involved,” YN huffs, childishly enough like she was dealt an injustice.

Harry’s teeth grit like they did earlier, his fingertips pressing in slightly, “I never said that. I said it might not be the best idea because you two live together and are close. However, she clearly doesn’t take my advice, stemming from the fact that she calls you her ‘bisexual awakening’.”

YN raises her eyebrows at that, Kay hadn’t specifically said that, sure, she mentioned that she thought that YN was attractive but it had not been specifically mentioned that she had that much attraction towards her.

“What do you want?” YN’s nearly whispering now.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s not about me,” Harry deflects, YN’s realizing that he’s really good at that.

“What did you think when you walked in and saw us?”

“It’s not important. You agreed, right?” Harry clarifies, moving now to take off her other heel.

“I did,” YN swallows, blinking down at him, her heart felt like it was going to give out.

“You know why I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry meets her gaze again, intense and unwavering.

“You just said because we’re close,” YN repeats what he had just said.

“There’s a much bigger reason it’s not a good idea and you know that,” Harry face is serious, terse as he slips the strap from the small golden buckle. “Say it,” YN replies, unsure where the bravery came from, maybe she was just tired of him being constantly vague and noncommitall, “Tell me why then. Spell it out.”

Harry’s eyes become stormier, he places the heel next to it’s pair before sitting up further, until he suddenly moves.

His hand coming up to cup her neck, just like Kay ahd done but it was with more intention, not the timidness or hesistaation that her friend had, this was pure confiddence as he uses his grip to pull her face closer to his.

YN’s lips instantly part in a surprise, quiet gasp, and instinctually she parts her legs to give him room to situate hiself in between her, to get closer.

His lips are just about to touch hers but then he stops, “This is why it isn’t a good idea.”

Then he’s pulling back, standing up, and stalking back down the hall away from her without another word.

What the fuck.

++++*_

Thoughts?🫣

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harrystyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic

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sa1ntn3k0 · 8 days ago

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Snow Leopard Gojo (∩˃o˂∩) ♡ nsfw!

The sun perched high in the sky, its golden rays filtering through pillowy clouds that drifted lazily like overstuffed cotton balls. They played a tiny game of peek-a-boo with the light, casting dappled shadows over Tokyo University’s sprawling campus before leaving, bathing the world again in a warm, buttery glow. You tilted your face upward, savoring the breeze that tousled your hair, a gentle, vanilla-scented kiss from spring. This was your favorite kind of day: bright enough to lift your spirits but soft enough to keep the world from feeling too loud. Perfect for the oversized cardigan you’d thrown over your pastel-yellow mini dress, its airy fabric fluttering around your thighs like sunlight given form.

Your morning lecture, unfortunately, had been anything but luminous. Your Professor’s monotone voice had dragged through the hours like a knife through cold, stiff butter, dissecting a research paper on quantum physics that might as well have been written in ancient Aramaic. You’d doodled bunnies and cartoon cats in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering to the cafe you loved, the one with the heart-shaped mugs and the barista who always added a sprinkle of cinnamon to your chai. But getting there meant braving Shibuya’s chaos: the screech of trains, the tsunami of suits and school uniforms flooding the crossing, the neon signs that buzzed like angry wasps. Just thinking about it made your shoulders tense.

No, today calls for compromise. You’d settle for the sleepy little shop near FamilyMart, even if their tea tasted like water with a dash of sugar. Slinging your tote bag higher onto your shoulder, its pastel patches of Miffy and Hello Kitty clinking gently against your thermos, you stepped onto the sidewalk, your strappy sandals tapping a quiet rhythm against the pavement. The dress you wore hugged your curves sweetly, its buttercup hue mirroring the sun, while your lips glimmered with a gloss that smelled like strawberries. You’d dressed up for no one in particular, really, but there was joy in feeling pretty, even if only the breeze noticed, and unfortunately that perv two seats behind you in class.

The cafe’s bell jingled as you entered, its air thick with the aroma of stale croissants and bitter espresso. You beelined for the refrigerated case, grabbing a bottled milk tea and a pastry swirled with pink strawberry cream, its flaky layers far too enticing to leave without. Back outside, you claimed a bench beneath a cherry blossom tree, its petals drifting around you like confetti. The first sip of tea was cloying and underwhelming, but the pastry? Too good. The cream burst on your tongue, tart and sugary, and you closed your eyes for a blissful second-

Rustle.

Your thick lashes fluttered open. The bush beside the bench shivered, leaves trembling gently. No wind stirred the air. You leaned closer, squinting, as the rustling came again, more insistent now. A tiny, pearlescent paw poked out, followed by a puff of fur so impossibly white it seemed spun from moonlight. Your heart squeezed... A kitten!

“Hi, baby,” you cooed, crouching low, your dress pooling around you like melted sunshine. The creature crept forward, and- oh.

This was no ordinary kitten.

Snow-leopard cubs weren’t exactly part of Tokyo’s urban wildlife, but there he was: a miniature king of the mountains, his fur a tapestry of charcoal rosettes and ivory silk. His paws were comically oversized, velvety pads as pink as bubblegum, and his tail, thick and banded with shadow, swished with mischief. But it was his eyes that stole your breath: twin pools of Arctic cerulean, glowing with an almost otherworldly intelligence. They locked onto yours, unblinking, as he toddled closer, his little nose twitching at your pastry.

“Hungry, huh?” you giggled, breaking off a crumb. He lunged, a blur of fur and enthusiasm, snatching the treat from your fingers with a tiny mrowp! “Hey!” you gasped, but the scolding died in your throat as he flopped onto his back, the stolen prize clutched between his paws. His belly was fluffier than a ball of sugary mochi, and when he purred, it sounded like a tiny motorboat.

“You’re a little thief,” you murmured, scritching the soft fur beneath his chin. His purrs vibrated, and he nuzzled your hand, his pink tongue rasping against your thumb. That’s when you felt it, a slim ribbon of leather around his throat. A collar? You coaxed him onto your lap, heart hammering as you traced the tiny tag.

Satoru, it read, in curlicue letters.

A human name for this definitely not-human creature. Your thumb brushed the tag again, half-expecting it to vanish like a dream. But Satoru merely chirruped, batting a paw at your hair, his claws sheathed. He reeked of wet grass and mischief, but also… loneliness? You glanced around. No frantic owners in sight, no posters pleading for a lost cub. Just you, this mysterious little being, and the sudden, unshakable sense that fate had dropped him into your path.

Finders keepers, right?

“Alright, Satoru,” you sighed, bundling him against your chest. He curled instinctively into the warmth, his nose tucked into the dip in your collarbone. “You’re coming home with me.”

The train ride was a blur of whispered coos and stealthy cuddles. Satoru slept the entire way, a living, breathing heat pad, his paws kneading your cardigan into a doughy mess. By the time you reached your apartment, he’d claimed you as his personal pillow, his purrs vibrating through your ribs. You deposited him gently on your bed, a nest of floral quilts and plushies, and watched, smitten, as he stretched, his tiny claws catching the sunlight.

“Mama’s gonna kill me if she finds you,” you whispered, smoothing a thumb between his ears. He blinked up at you, those galaxy-blue eyes crinkling with what could only be… smugness?

No, that was silly.

The Great Bath Incident™ began, as most disasters do, with way too much optimism.

Two days. Two days of Satoru’s reign of terror had left your apartment smelling like grass and dirt. His fur, once as pristine as freshly fallen snow, now resembled a dust mop dragged through a dusty corner of your living room. He’d rolled in something unspeakable during his 3 a.m. zoomies, something that clung to him like a vengeful ghost and made your nose crinkle every time he trotted past.

“Okay, baby,” you announced, scooping him off the windowsill where he’d been sunbathing like a tiny, furry emperor. “Spa day.”

Satoru’s ears flattened. His light azure eyes widened into saucers, pupils dilating with betrayal.

“Mrrrp?”

“Yes, mrrow,” you said firmly, marching him to the bathroom. “You reek of dirt and tuna.”

The bath itself was… a spectacle.

You’d prepared meticulously: hypoallergenic honey-scented shampoo (the fancy kind for “sensitive babies,” according to the label), a stack of baby pink Hello kitty towels warmed in the dryer, and a rubber ducky you’d impulsively bought because look at his face, how could you not? Satoru took one glance at the filled tub, hissed like a deflating balloon, and attempted a gravity-defying backflip out of your arms.

“Nuh uh! No escaping!” You wrestled him gently into the water, his paws slapping the surface in protest. Bubbles foamed around him as he yowled pitifully, his tail thrashing like a fluffy whip. “You’re fine-it’s warm, see? Warm!”

He was not convinced.

Satoru transformed into a soggy gremlin, all claws and drama, splashing enough water to water a small farm. His squeaky protests echoed off the tiles, a bomb of bratty chirps and growls that somehow still sounded way too adorable. You couldn’t help but giggle as he tried (and failed) to scale your Miffy shower curtain, his soapy paws slipping comically.

“You’re such a baby,” you cooed, scrubbing between his ears. His fur lathered into a marshmallow fluff, revealing the striking black rosettes beneath the grime. “Look how pretty you are! So handsome! Yes, you!”

He paused mid-squirm, tilting his head at your praise. His whiskers twitched.

“…Prrt?”

“Very handsome,” you confirmed, booping his cute little nose. “The handsomest little snow boy in all of Tokyo- hell, the world.”

Satoru looked way too full of himself, his tantrum momentarily forgotten. He allowed you to rinse him, though not without a few half-hearted swats at the showerhead. By the time you reached for the heated towel, he’d morphed into a docile little loaf, his fur gleaming like spun sugar.

“All done!” you chirped, turning to grab the towel-

Sploosh.

A sound like a wet mop hitting the floor.

You froze.

Then came the drip-drip-drip of water, the creak of the tub, and-

“Ahem.”

A voice.

A human voice.

Deep. Smug. Somehow familiar.

Your spine went rigid. Slowly, so slowly, you turned.

There, lounging in your now half-empty tub like a pampered sultan, was a man.

A naked man.

A gloriously, infuriatingly beautiful naked man.

Your brain paused.

He was all lean muscle and snow-white skin, his physique carved so sharply, it made your cheeks burn up, heart race fast. Damp white hair clung to his forehead, framing a face that belonged on a Renaissance painting, sharp jawline, pink, plush lips quirked in a smirk, his strong neck held a baby blue leather collar, and eyes… Oh.

Eyes like glacial lakes, bright and bottomless, flecked with starlight. Satoru’s eyes.

Your gaze darted higher.

Oh no.

White ears twitched atop his head, velvety and tipped with ink-black fur. Behind him, a tail as thick as your thigh swayed lazily, its leopard-like rosettes glistening.

“Hey,” the man purred, resting his chin on the tub’s edge. His voice dripped with mischief. “What’s up?”

You screamed.

Not a dignified scream. A full-throttle, horror-movie-worthy screech that rattled your strawberry mint toothpaste tube off the sink.

“Wh-WHAT?! WHO-HOW-”

He blinked innocently, tail swishing. “Aw, c’mon, princess. You’ve been calling me ‘handsome’ and ‘baby’ for days. Don’t act shy now.” His voice was all smooth, like honey, but so mischievous-like, you felt way too many emotions.

Your face combusted. “THAT WAS FOR A CAT!”

“And yet here I am.” He stretched, water sloshing as he raised his arms above his head, displaying a torso that could’ve been chiseled by Michelangelo. His underarms bore fluffy white hair, the amount of hair only a grown man could have. “Better than a cat, right?”

You hurled the pink towel at his face.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning with a flash of faintly pointed canines. “Feisty! I like it.” Wrapping the towel around his hips (thank God), he rose from the tub, droplets cascading down his- Nope. Don’t look. Don’t you dare look.

You looked.

His lower half was… Wow. His abs were more defined when he stood, a fluff of white hair ran down his belly button, you could see the outline of his hung dick through Hello Kitty’s bow, and you felt blood rush, fast. You wanted to pass out, wake up to your baby, not some hot dude!

“S-Satoru?!” you squeaked, scrambling backward until your spine hit the door.

“The one and only!” He winked, flicking a wet ear. “Thanks for the bath, by the way. And the gourmet lamb chops. And the snuggles.” His tail curled playfully. “You’re a way better pillow than my last owner.”

Your mind reeled. The all-night zoomies. The picky eating. The smugness. It all clicked into place like a cursed jigsaw puzzle.

“You-you’ve been a human this whole time?!”

“Hybrid,” he corrected, leaning against the sink with infuriating casualness. “Snow leopard genes, human charm. Cute, right?” He flashed human jazz hands, claws retracted.

You gaped. “Cute?! You destroyed my Miffy lamp! You jumped on my boobs!”

“Hey, you’re the one who kept cuddling me while you slept.” He smirked, stepping closer. His tail brushed your ankle, impossibly soft, annoyingly wet. “Not that I minded. You’re really warm, and man, your tits are soft as-”

Your face flamed. “OUT. Get out of my bathroom! Put on clothes! Explain yourself!”

Satoru chuckled, low and rumbling-a sound that vibrated straight through your bones. “Don’t got any, smarty pants.”

You lunged for the door handle. He was faster.

A big, human hand (warm, genuinely huge) pressed the door shut above your head, caging you in. His scent enveloped you, honey shampoo, snowfall, something wild and electric.

“Relax,” he murmured, leaning down until his nose nearly brushed yours. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Unless…” His gaze dropped to your pillowy lips. “…you want me to.” His breath was minty, smelling of the kitty toothpaste you rubbed those fangs clean with a few minutes ago.

Your breath hitched. “Wh-”

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang.

Satoru’s ears pricked. “Expecting someone?”

Your blood turned to ice.

“…Mama.”

His smirk vanished. “Shit.”

End, for now. Hehe.

Whoop! That was fun, I love snow leopard Gojo, he's so… Ugh, need him. Of course, will be continuing, want to lean this into a smutty fic, so stay with me! I'm super busy with my classes but I’ll try to upload asap! Also, I see reader as 18-21, or higher if you think of grad school or whatever. Satoru’s his 29-year-old self!

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #snow leopard gojo!#gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo fluff #hybrid gojo #jjk x reader #hybrid x reader #gojo x reader smut

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taintedcigs · 11 months ago

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as promised.... here's a firefighter!steve thought that hasn't left my mind (warnings: 18+ minors dni, bj, praises, filthy!)

firefighter!steve who meets you on the job, who is all flirty when he sees you... so much so that his captain reprimands him, but none of that matters when you give him your number, promising him a date.

rosy lips curling into a full-on grin, bowing at you with a wink as he runs his hands through his slicked up hair in excitement.

Maybe it's the uniform or his charm, but it doesn't matter, because you're back at his apartment the second the date is over, exploring each other's bodies, hands everywhere, kisses all over each other's skin.

It's a miracle the two of you make it to his couch, and maybe if he hadn't talked about his job a lot, how much he saved people, how much he took care of everyone around him, you wouldn't immediately be on your knees, palming him through his uniform.

But you want to take care of him, want to help him relax, ease his worries.

"W-what are you doin'?" he questions, words half-slurred, eyes half-shut, cock stirring at your movements, low whines he can't seem to hush making you grin.

"Must be so tiring, saving all those people, taking care of everyone else...." You flutter your lashes, not wasting any time to unzip him, your eyes widen at his sheer size, admiring it.

It's bigger, much thicker than you anticipated, veins apparent with how hard he is, but it doesn't stop your slow strokes as his rosy lips slightly part in awe.

"Nobody takes care of you, do they, Stevie?" You hum, not wasting any time to bring your lips onto his hardened cock, soft kisses plastered all over, he wants to protest, but it's not even believable.

"But I was going to-"

"Sshhh, we have all the time in the world, let me take care of you, pretty boy," you hush him quickly, tongue swiping along his length, earning a grunt from him, loud, much louder than he's ever been, and you can see him slipping, going into a trance, engulfed in desire.

It's kitten licks at first, and even with that Steve can feel his entire body shake, the growing intensity of his fervor makes him curse under his breath.

He can't help it, you look so fucking pretty taking care of him, lustful gaze eating him up, tongue lapping up hungrily.

All he can do is whine, beg, and call out your name as merely a grunt. it's surely pathetic, but it drives you insane, plump lips finally wrapping around his cock, sliding up and down his length, hand flying to stroke the parts of him your mouth can't cover.

"You're so, so big, Stevie," you hum, all sultry and sweet, he can't help the ungodly noises that escape his bubblegum lips.

"Baby..." he calls out, weak, and you respond by wrapping another hand around his cock, it's all soft and delicate because he knows he's going to explode soon.

He doesn't even attempt to push your head down further, he can't, his balls are tight, full of cum, waiting to paint your pretty little throat.

All he wants.

You bob your head up and down, gagging with his size while your hand tugs at his cock a bit harder this time, you can almost feel him twitch on your hot tongue, suckling while all Steve can do is let out a "fuck, baby," and a few of "shit, sweetheart," feeling his balls draw up, throbbing length covered in your spit.

Hands replace your mouth as you release him with a pop sound, and Steve looks down at you curious, you meet his gaze, running his red tip against your lips, collecting what's left of his pre-cum with a few laps of your tongue.

He watches in pure admiration, how ethereal you look like this, the gaze you have on him downright pornographic, and all he can do is whine, while his eyes roll to the back of his head, entire body buzzing with pleasure.

You lick your lips happily, letting his salty semen engulf your tastebuds, "tastes so good, Steve." You praise, hand continuing to tug at his veiny cock, his mouth forming an 'o' shape.

"F-fuck... g-gonna cum, sweets," he warns with a violent grunt, making you get to work again, suckling on his cock like your favorite candy, telling him to cum, pretty praises leaving your lips, and all Steve can do is growl, lost in his own desires, in you.

"S-shit, shit, shit! Gonna fill that pretty mouth up-" he can't even finish his sentence, and you continue, whimpering around his cock, getting him to the edge, making him explode inside your cheeks, warm and thick cum flooding all the way back to your throat.

You give him a small smile right after you swallow all of him, lewd gaze meeting his while he keeps repeating how perfect you are.

His good girl.

He grabs you by your chin to make you look up at him, it's downright sinful, much more in control than he was before, you can feel your thighs dampening. "I have to return the favor, sweetheart, don't you think?"

You nod, almost in trance, all the confirmation he needs before he swiftly picks you up, throwing you over his shoulders like it's no big deal.

"Show you how strong and good firefighters are with their hands, hmmm?" He hums wickedly, carrying you to his bedroom.

#this doesnt have anything to do w my 9-1-1 obsession how dare u accuse me #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb

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billiesbabygirleilish · 2 months ago

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HEAR ME OUT billie x singer! reader who takes the place of someone like sabrina carpenter olivia rodrigo melanie martinez just anyone with a totally different aesthetic from billie and her reaction or opinion on readers songs and performances and stuff like am i a genius or what 🫡 (if u decide to write it ty babes)

Sweet Sorrow

.*•.*.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*.•🎀.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*•.*

Billie stood behind the heavy velvet curtain of the venue, excitement pulsing through her veins. Tonight, she was headlining her own show, but more than that, she was about to share the stage with someone she scarcely knew—someone whose musical world was the complete opposite of hers.

You were a bubblegum pop sensation, bursting onto the scene with your sugary sweet melodies and vibrant aesthetic. Your stage outfits sparkled with sequins and pastel colors, an explosion of sunshine in contrast to Billie’s often moody, understated style. Your latest single, “Sugar Rush,” was a catchy anthem that had taken the charts by storm, and now you were set to perform it as the opening act.

Billie had stumbled upon your music a few weeks prior while scrolling through streaming platforms. At first, she thought it was amusing—your bright, cheerful spirit seemed to defy everything she felt. Gradually, however, she found herself oddly entranced. The infectious energy and playful lyrics made her smile, a rare occurrence for the artist known for her haunting ballads and introspective lyrics.

As she watched the crowd buzz with excitement, she felt a hint of apprehension. She knew her music resonated with feelings of angst and darkness, while yours was all sunshine and sparkles. Would the audience appreciate your performance? Would you keep their attention?

You bounded onto the stage, a smile stretching across your face as you greeted the crowd. The sound of squeals and cheers drowned out any remaining doubts Billie had; they were here for you, and they loved every second. You launched into your songs with an energy that was almost electric, the colorful lights dancing around you in perfect synchrony with the beats.

Billie found herself captivated. Your voice, bright and clear, floated through the air, and she couldn’t help but admire how you effortlessly engaged with the audience. Your choreography was sharp yet playful, and the way you interacted with the fans—winking and blowing kisses—was something that Billie, with her more introverted persona, couldn’t imagine doing.

As you spun gracefully across the stage, Billie felt her heart thawing just a little. You were unabashedly yourself, radiating confidence and joy, and somewhere deep inside, she envied that freedom. You were unapologetically girly, decked out in frills and glitter, and while it was worlds away from her own style, it felt refreshing.

After you finished your performance, Billie called you offstage, and you bounced over, your cheeks flushed with excitement. “You were amazing!” you gushed, still riding the high of the performance. “Did you see how they reacted to ‘Sugar Rush’? I can hardly believe it!”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” Billie replied, her own smile creeping in. “You really know how to work a crowd.”

Your eyes lit up. “Seriously, though! I’ve always admired your music. It’s so deep and emotional. I can’t even begin to imagine how you do it.”

Billie chuckled softly, the compliment warming her heart. “Thanks. I guess I just dive into my feelings, you know?”

You nodded, your expression earnest. “I feel the same way! Just… in a really different way.”

“Exactly. You bring joy and fun. That’s an art too, you know?” Billie admitted, glancing down as she considered her words. “It’s just different from what I do.”

In that moment, the two of you realized that while your aesthetics and musical styles diverged widely, there was an unspoken bond between you. Different experiences shaped your creativity, but both of you poured your souls into your music. It was beautiful, in all its contradictions.

As the night carried on and you performed an encore, Billie felt infused with a newfound appreciation for the bubblegum joy you brought to the stage. When it was finally time for her to take the spotlight, she felt invigorated, inspired by the colors and vibrancy of your world.

After the show, Billie caught up with you. “Want to maybe collaborate on something?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

You gasped, bouncing on your heels. “Yes! How about a song that mixes both of our styles? We could do something with dark lyrics and a catchy melody! Like… a sapphic love song!”

Billie laughed, picturing the contrast of your sounds melding together. “I love it. Let’s do this.”

With renewed enthusiasm, the two of you exchanged numbers and vowed to create something remarkable together—two artists intertwined in a beautiful tapestry of sound and style, showing the world that artistry knows no boundaries. And as Billie headed home, she couldn’t help but hum along to the memory of your sugary hooks, knowing she wouldn’t mind that lingering sweetness one bit.

#billiesbabygirleilish #billie eilish #billieeilish #billie x reader #billie eilish x fem! reader #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fanfic #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fluff

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sallieraptor · 2 years ago

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so???? SO???? DO IT THEN. WHAT ARE U WAITING FOR???? you silly lesbian

#fionna and cake #adventure time #princess bubblegum #couch potato buzzing

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demigod-jack-hearth · 7 months ago

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Open starter (bees)

You are near the Hestia cabin and you can hear a faint buzzing from the cabin

When you enter the cabin you see jack holding a bees nest

(tag list mention if you want to be added or removed)

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nolovelingers · 1 year ago

Text

TELL ME YOU DONT FEEL IT ⋆ ୨୧˚ wes hicks !!

⋆ ★ wes has had a crush on you since what feels like the beginning of time and he’s finally determined on getting you to tell him whether the feelings are reciprocated or not. — blurb !!

cw ᝰ.ᐟ sfw ,, talk of weed ,, readers high ,, fluff

dancing under the florescent night sky of the moon, a deep blue tarp with an array of stars scattered in groups like white paint on a canvas as laughter beamed from the depth of your body resided you and wes hicks.

a bittersweet feeling harmonized along with the two of you as you swayed to your own rhythm, not a single worry or doubt making itself present in your mind as you gave your thoughts away to the buzzing sensation vibrating all through you.

the 5’8 male had not been there initially to witness the intaking of a blunt rotation you shared between few friends, but he was quick to head over the second you asked.

there was worry that struck through his body at first as he picked up your call after only two rings, a small panic at seeing your name on his phone at such late hours of the night and it wasn’t until he heard you speak the protectiveness that ran through his veins settled only after a short explanation.

you had asked him to come and walk you back home, worried to do so alone and not in the sober mindset.

he rushed over as soon as he could, leading up to the present moment as you laughed away the cruelty of the world, stumbling just slightly as you skipped and danced without song.

“spin me!” you requested, and the hicks boy felt blood rush up to his face at the sudden odd request, your fingers reaching for his in a cupping motion.

complying with an awkward smile he lifted his arm, twirling you around and watching the way your clothes blew along with the direction of the wind, outlining the figure of your body that was just beautiful in his eyes. “how much did you have?” he mindlessly questioned, laughter threatening to poor from between his bubblegum pink tinted lips as he watched you with an intent gaze. his attention was solely on you and he was met with a shrug of your shoulders.

“why, did you wanna hit?” you didn’t even have to ask before you felt the pending answer, flipping your body around and walking backwards as you continued holding onto his slim fingers with your own.

“uhh, no, i don’t smoke.” he glanced at your hand that was still wrapped around his with a lingering look in his eyes that you were fast to mistake for him being uncomfortable, letting go of his hand and not noticing the slightly disappointed emotion rupturing over his features as he nervously looked at the pavement below the two of you.

you smiled, his response turning out exactly as you expected while continuing to walk the wrong way forward. wes eyes you carefully, prepared to shoot his arms out and catch you at the chance you fell. “i know. you’re a little mamas boy. it’s cute though, i really admire that.” there was nothing but genuineness in your voice as you spoke and the bleach-haired boy felt the need to turn his head away in a daze of embarrassment, the feeling of a rosy tint creeping over his fair skin.

there’s silence for a moment and he clears his throat, sticking his hands in the pockets of his grey-washed jeans and opting to try and switch the topic away from him. “how you feeling?” softly and with genuine concern in his ocean-blue eyes he met your vision with his, a light-hearted smile twitching the corners of just one side of his mouth up slightly.

“amazing,” you’re quick to answer him, finally flipping your body the right way round. “i feel like im one with the environment!” you giggle, so much intense passion evident in your voice while you announced your mindset to the boy; who’s blonde hair was breezing into patches with the wind, his dark brown roots becoming even more apparent.

wes watches you with a certain intensity of emotion in his eyes. like a mother watching her kid say their first words, or a doctor witnessing their patient start to walk again after being paralyzed for years.

he grins, keeping his head turned as he breaks his gaze away from you. you’re able to see the point of his canines clearly as he stays faced away, and suddenly you’re switching roles, finding yourself unable to look away from him.

you had never really seen him in this light before. not literally, the dark nightfall dimming his face; making his skin look smoother than it ever has, his jaw seemed to pop more, or maybe he was just clenching it, the yellow hue of lamplights coming and going as you walk down the concrete along with him and back to the neighborhood you both have been living in since you could open your eyes.

you had seen wes almost every day of your life. walking to school together, all the days you hung out, sharing classes and even carpooling with each others parent every once in a while.

but you had never really seen him like this. clearly.

and through the dim lighting, through the shadows of the night and the dark pallet of colors swarming the two of you you swore that you had really seen him. and there wasn’t a word to describe the feeling either. it was just like something was turning in your head, gears clicking after so many years.

he was enticing.

enticing you, and drawing you in without meaning.

he notices the quiet that fell between the two of you, and finally meets eye contact with you again. as soon as he does, he notices you had already been staring and an enormous blush immediately takes over him as he tries to figure out how long you had been watching him.

he brings his eyes back down, watching the floor and you notice as he carefully steps over every crack littered on the gray surface. finally you reach the street of your neighborhood, not too far from your friends house, and the boy instinctively grabs onto the cloth of your shirt as you cross the road to get to the right street.

you smile to yourself as you walk side to side next to him and he doesn’t once let go, watching both sides of the road for cars like one could come whipping through and cutting the corner any second to turn the both of you into road kill.

when you reach the next set of sidewalk, now down the path to your house, and he still hasn’t let go, you decide to direct the conversation. “are you gonna tell your mom why you had to come get me?”

he goes quiet for moment, turning to you with his brows furrowed like you had just asked him a really obvious question. “of course not.” a sound that sounds like a mix of a scoff and a giggle leaves his mouth. “even if i did it’s not like she’d arrest you.”

you roll your eyes, bumping your shoulder into him as you walk in sync together. “she’s the sheriff.” you slightly lean into him as you walk and he lets out a little sigh.

“yeah but.. it’s you.”

“what do you mean ‘it’s me’?”

clearly he wasn’t expecting you to want clarification on what he meant, his silence answers that for you. he looks at you, the crickets of the night being the only thing audible. “just.. you’re like my best friend. she wouldn’t arrest you over something like weed. to be honest, I think she smoked a few times when she was a teenager too.”

you hum, the drowsiness stage beginning to set in as you lean more into him, staggering just slightly. wes notices your irregular steps and drapes an arm around your shoulder, leaning you into him as an attempt to balance you.

you smile into his sleeve and don’t even notice the way he’s puffed his cheeks out or stopped breathing completely as he held you closer to him.

finally, you reach your house, the familiar structure waiting in front of you; dark and quiet.

“you’ll make it in okay?” he removes his arm, guiding you lightly in front of him so he can meet your eyes and you have to fight back rolling them at such a silly question but end up smiling at his worry over nothing.

“i don’t know, 15 more feet and im not sure ill have mine anymore.” you smirk at him and he rolls his eyes at you, a look of fondness adoring his features.“ughhh, i guess i should go. call it a night. thank you wes, seriously.” you smile at him, messing with his hair a little. he opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he’s debating saying something more; so you stay a moment longer.

he doesn’t say anything, and after debating with yourself internally for about 5 seconds you lean [down/up] and press a kiss to his cheek; which feels hot under your lips.

you could literally hear his breathing pick up, and when you finally break away from his skin he’s not looking anywhere near you but has rather zoned off somewhere behind you.

“goodnight wes.” you offer him a embarrassed smile before turning away, walking back to your door.

you make it a whopping 4 steps away before he’s calling out after you.

“stop.” there’s actual irritation in his voice, which isn’t normal, and you turn back to face him. he’s standing in the exact same spot with the same dazed look on his face only now he looks a little angry and confused as his forehead is creased and brows are pushed together while looking at you. “what is this? what are you doing?”

you’re confused, clasping your hands together to help gather warmth as a cold breeze runs through the air. “what do you mean?”

wes shakes his head, looking away and then back at you several times and it’s obvious he’s fighting with himself internally. “you know what i mean. this. us. what are you doing? why?”

you don’t look away from him once, confidently staying in your place as you cross your arms; embarrassed to address the situation but not nearly as much as he was. “can you clarify?” it’s kind of obvious what he’s talking about, but there’s some idiotic part of you in your mind forcing you to act stupid which only drove wes more mad.

he opens his lips and an estranged laugh leaves, like someone having a nervous breakdown and randomly starts giggling. it’s an agitated laugh.

“please, whatever you’re doing, stop. stop acting like you don’t know what i mean. you know what you’re doing, and- and what you just did. you must know what kind of effect you have over me or something because at this point it’s getting frustrating when you do these things but can’t even address it. it is like, physically hurting my heart at this point because all i can do when i try to sleep is stare at the ceiling and think about you and what you do to me and whether or not you know what you’re doing or if it’s unintentional and it’s driving me nuts. tell me you don’t feel it. tell me you don’t feel this!” despite how frantic his words come out, and how panicked and vulnerable he looks, he speaks clearly and strings the right words together to express himself. that’s always been a great trait about him. wes was great with his words and knows exactly how to describe how he’s feeling. he just struggled on having the courage to get them out.

you almost don’t know what to say, but there’s no time to find your words before he’s speaking again.

“and don’t give me any more bullshit about how you don’t know exactly what im taking about or how im not being ‘clear enough’ for you. i mean, seriously, i shouldn’t have to spell it out for you at this point because all of our friends know that i like you and even your family, which i tried so hard especially to hide it from, figured it out so fast. it’s not rocket science. besides my mom and tara you are the only girl i consider myself close with and there’s no way it’s not obvious to you when you ask me about the girl i like because it is definitely not tara, and it is definitely not my mom. i like them but not in the way i like you, not in the way you won’t leave my mind so much so it’s frustrating. i can hardly focus in class because I can’t stop thinking about us or if there even is an us or what could happen or if you feel the same way and it’s unfair because there has to be some part of you internally that knows I like you when you kiss my cheek or text me every morning and night or run your fingers through my hair when we hang out and I hate it so much because I can’t read you the same way you can read me and I can’t tell if you’re doing these things just to mess with me or because you might actually feel the same way.”

wes, now out of breath, let’s out quiet gasps and inhales of air after he finishes speaking. he stammers in place for a second, trying to catch his footing as he looks around the environment and at anywhere but you. trying to avoid your eyes. your face. it was all on the line now and he was terrified of what you might say.

“you.. like me?” you repeat to yourself, keeping your eyes trained on his face. this finally gets the hicks boys eyes to land back on you with a frustrated sigh; like you just asked the dumbest thing in the world.

“are you really gonna ask me that after I just finished my dramatic epilogue?”

a smile takes over your face from the way he says this, his breathing still uneven. so many thoughts churn through your head as you try to process what this all means. what this all could mean for you and the future of your friendship with wes.

“you’re right, sorry.” you awkwardly smile, taking one step closer to him as you begin to try to gather your mind and express what you were thinking.

“you’re not worried about this changing us? our friendship? what if we breakup?” all reasonable questions to ask, they come flying out of your mouth one by one and wes feels his heartbeat quicken in hope as he realizes you haven’t yet rejected him.

“youch, thinking about breaking up already?” the blonde feins hurt and places a hand loosely over his heart which earns an eye roll from you before he shakes his head. “do you even know how much I like you? I mean, clearly not. the last thing I would ever want is for us to breakup. if that happened, that’s on you. and our friendship? what do you mean? did you just friendzone me? (y/n).” wes lets out one last final sigh before grabbing for one of your hands with both of his, locking eyes with you nervously.

“please, i just need to know how you feel. if you don’t feel the same way, it’s fi-“

the feeling of his lips on yours is as soft as you could have ever imagined. they were plump and tasted of strawberry chapstick. a far too prolonged kiss was shared, and you cupped one side of his face with your hand while bringing the other behind his neck.

wes felt his knees buckle underneath him, feeling like he was in a dream. he had dreamed of this moment for so long and was now having a hard time believing it was real. the kiss almost felt too perfect.

after a few delayed seconds he gently placed both hands on your waist, holding you down in place as he moves his lips against yours as if to stop you from ever leaving.

you pull away, face burning a bright red and heart pounding an unnatural rate before you finally open your mouth to speak.

“i feel it.”

` ੈ˚ ★ a / n : i deadass started ts 7 months ago but it’s been rotting in my drafts since school started back and nasa wanted to recruit me as a potential subject in their spacial exposure severer super undercover mission

started 08.06.23.

finished 03.29.24.

( scream masterlist )

©️ nolovelingers 2024

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marvelstoriesepic · 6 months ago

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Flufftober (day 9)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Prompt: “Don’t do that!” - “But…”

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; drunk!Reader

Flufftober Masterlist

Really, your drunken mind does its best to shut your mouth, stopping those giggles from slipping past your lips; but it doesn’t stand a chance. Darcy, your equally inebriated roommate, seems to have the same problem.

She is teetering precariously beside you in a squat, slightly swaying just as you are, huddled before the couch where Bucky passed out on almost an hour earlier.

The rest of your little party group left mere minutes ago, all taking a taxi to get home safely. Steve and Sam, Bucky’s roommates, have both assured you they would come pick up your friend in the morning, so he could get some sleep on your couch.

However, Darcy and you, still high on cocktails and tequila shots, decided you could have some fun with that.

Now, here you are, half-balanced in a crouch next to Bucky’s sprawled out form on the soft cushions of your couch still fast asleep, stifling more giggles as you do your best to unscrew the bottle of bubblegum pink nail polish, you took from your room moments before.

You pass the bottle to Darcy after loading the brush with enough polish, gingerly reaching for his hand which is dangling off the edge of the couch.

Your fingers graze his a little hesitantly, ignoring the electric buzz that pulses through your fingertips, up to your arms and chest at the single touch alone. You only giggle some more as you position his hand.

“Shhh,” Darcy tries to whisper but it comes out far too loud and trails off into a laugh that causes her composure to falter. Her already unsteady position, hovering above the floor, gets wobblier by the second. But she still tries to stay on the balls of her feet.

You bite your lip, trying to give it your all as you line up the brush to the nail of his pinky finger but Darcy’s crackling is contagious and your current state isn’t able to fathom how loud you two are.

“Don’t do that!”

The groggy voice of your friend interrupts your drunken shenanigans. His voice is rough from sleep but he managed to put a hint of a warning edge in his tone.

Wide eyes look up at him, the surprise to see him awake all over your face, as if it wasn’t absolutely logical he would wake up at the noise. Giggles freeze in your throat and Darcy beside you loses her balance entirely, toppling backward onto the floor with a soft thud and a grunted laugh.

You blink at Bucky. He blinks back, raising his eyebrows in amusement, a question in his gaze as to what your intentions here are, or rather your nerve, since it’s entirely self explanatory what exactly you two are planning.

“But…” you half whine, half beg; exaggerating your disappointment and leaning in a little with an unfocused gaze to give him your best pout and puppy dog eyes. You stumble slightly, but your hand is still holding his.

Your subconscious can only hope you won’t remember this embarrassing display tomorrow.

“Doll,” Bucky warns again, subtly looking down at your joint hands, though his focus is on the way his hand is linked with yours, rather than the brightly pink colored brush hovering over his nail. His voice is soft and playful, and there is a warmth in his tone, the same warmth that shines in his eyes as he looks back at you. Amusement curls at the edges of his lips at the way you try to focus your slightly blurred vision on him.

The alcohol that had knocked him out earlier, seems to have worn off, his gaze holding yours with a steadiness you hadn’t seen all night. Clear eyes so intensely fixed on you, just as intoxicating - actually even more - as the alcohol you have downed the past hours.

His hand is still resting in yours and he makes no move at all to change that fact or move away from you in any way. He just lies there, stretched out before you, gazing at you with an expression and a twinkle in his eyes, your influenced mind can’t quite place, nor can it comprehend that flutter in your belly that seems to ignite in response.

“Buck,” you offer sweetly, dragging the word out in a slur and glancing up at him innocently, hand with the brush still held in position.

A wide smile stretches on Bucky’s face, and he laughs heartedly, his deep chuckle reaching your ears and a giggle bubbles up all on its own.

“God, you- fine, do whatever you gotta do,” he concedes, voice light with hints of remaining amusement as he shakes his head fondly. He slowly stretches his fingers, still in your grasp, making it easier for you to continue your little project.

Darcy and you let out a happy sound of excitement, faces lighting up and Bucky laughs again.

You immediately go to work, pulling his hand closer to which Bucky doesn’t object, hunching over it, blurry focus completely dedicated to painting his nails the perfect shade of pink.

You’ve still got enough self-awareness to know that you’re a bit more wobbly than usual, so you bite your lip in concentration, doing your best to keep your hand as steady as possible, to not ruin his perfect nails.

You’re so engrossed in your task, that you miss the way he watches you. His eyes never stray from your face, following the way your brows softly knit together in the way they always do when you give all your attention to a certain chore, put all your dedication towards it. And it’s only to color his nails.

You only hum away at your self-appointed mission, ignoring Darcy’s watchful gaze over your shoulder, while you miss the tender way Bucky studies you, the way his heart swells in his chest, the way he loves to be the subject of your drunken pampering.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

#flufftober2024 #day 9 #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x reader #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #modern!bucky

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spirit-lanterns · 2 years ago

Text

ALMOST CAUGHT!

synopsis: almost getting caught in the act

featuring: kafka, serval, himeko, natasha

rating: 18+ ns.fw (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab female reader, semi-public s.ex, almost getting caught, f.ingering, dirty talk, strap ons, vibr.ators, scissor.ing, marking, indecency at the workplace, some swearing.

art credits: bad thinking diary

KAFKA

“One more baby, just one more okay?”

Kafka groans into your ear as she speeds up her thrusts, a shallow smirk curling on her lips as she presses you deeper against the cold closet walls. “Come on baby girl I know you can give me another…”

You resisted the urge to hook your leg over Kafka’s arm and really stretch yourself out for her. Her strap spearing you through as she plunged the thick toy in as deep as you could take.

“Kafka…Kafka…” your eyes lolled back in drunken pleasure when she moved to hook your leg over for you, keeping you spread even wider while you took her cock an extra inch or two from before. “W-Wait—!” You bit your lip as she kissed your neck passionately, a gloved hand pinning your face to the wall while she went to town on you. “Yes my darling? Is it deep enough for you?”

She chuckled darkly at your sex-drunk expression and cupped your face so you could only look at her. “Awe, is it too much for my baby?” She fake pouts.

“No…it’s just—” you groaned as the tip of her cock rubbed perfectly against a particularly sensitive area, “We’ve been in here for a long time. Surely it’s kind of suspicious by now…”

Kafka didn’t seem to care and just kept thrusting up into you. “And…?” She murmured huskily into your ear. “Do you want me to stop…?” She smiled and pressed feather light kisses against your jaw, starting to speed up her movements.

“Oh…fuck.” You grit your teeth and let her bounce you up in her arms, some precum sliding down the plastic shaft. “You asked for one more, well I’m close enough to just—”

“Where did Kafka go?”

You both froze at the sound of Blade right outside the door, a set of footsteps behind him that sounded like Silver Wolf’s.

Shit. They were right outside.

“No idea. I don’t see her girlfriend anywhere either.”

A snap of Silver Wolf’s bubblegum just confirmed your suspicions. Both of them were right outside, unknowing that Kafka was currently 6 inches of plastic dick inside you in the closet behind them.

“…Seems like we have company.” Kafka whispered darkly, starting to move her hips again and reveling in the sadistic pleasure she got from seeing you whimper. “But my baby girl can keep quiet, I’m sure she can…”

You wanted to be mad at her, teasing you like this when Blade and Silver were right outside... But you couldn’t. Not when Kafka was fucking you so well and deep. “You’re so annoying…” you grumbled, fleshy walls gripping her cock for sweet release. Your girlfriend only chuckled, leaning in to press her lips against yours.

“I am, aren't I…?”

And as if to spite you, she thrusted up sharply, hands grasping your ass as she held you in place for another round.

SERVAL

“Couldn’t wait until we got home, huh?”

Serval laughed quietly, bending you over the bed with a vibrator pressed to your clit. “So naughty…”

“H-Hey, you packed it for a reas— oh… fuck—” She turned the settings up and chuckled at the way you trembled, almost as if she were enjoying this in a weird, sadistic way. “Well, I packed it just in case for a reason. Just in case we…Y’know…” she giggled at your astounded face and raised the settings higher. “…And here we are!”

What started as an overnight trip to the Landau family residence turned into a pre-dinner sex session after you found the secret vibrator in your girlfriend’s suitcase. You didn’t think Serval would even fathom the thought of screwing you in her old childhood home, yet here we are…

“You’re so bad…” You giggled, riding on the vibrator’s pleasant buzz. “You really wanted to do this in your childhood bedroom, hm?”

“Hey, it’s hot.” Serval grinned and leaned over to kiss you. “Seeing you sprawled out on my sheets like this turns me on so much…”

She inches closer to push the vibrator deeper against your folds, moving forward to kiss you sweetly and slide her tongue in to claim it all as hers. She was so distracting, she was so dominating. You couldn’t focus on anything else at all, as all you could think about was Serval, Serval, Serval…

You were so distracted in fact, that the two of you forgot that you were doing this before dinner time. The sounds of Gepard’s feet in the hallway not registering, as the both of you were lost in a passionate dream full of lust. “Sister? It’s almost dinner time.” Gepard called from the other side of the door. “What’s that noise? What are you doing?”

You gasped at this intrusion and Serval only groaned in displeasure, turning down the settings of the vibrator so that the buzzing noise would stop. “Nothing, just tuning one of my instruments…” she winked at you playfully. “I’ll be out in a minute. Girlfriend is here too, say hey, love.”

“…Hey.”

You tried your best to sound composed and not like you were getting your brains fucked out. Serval covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing as Gepard stood silently in the hall.

“Oh. Okay then, have fun. Just be sure to wash up before dinner.”

“Oh, we will.”

And as Gepard’s footsteps thudded heavily away from Serval’s door, you whimpered when she turned up the vibrator again to the highest setting.

“You heard him, princess. Best have fun, then we can wash up later…”

HIMEKO

“Almost there…just a little more, my love…”

Himeko grunts and pushes her cunt further against your own, slapping your hips together as she raises your leg a bit higher over her shoulder. A slick, sticky webbing of precum joining your pussies together as you mesh and scissor in the bask of lustful passion.

“Himeko…” you murmured, all covered in the woman’s red lipstick that trailed down from your face, your neck, your breasts, your…

“Love,” Himeko smiled back and pressed another red kiss to your thigh. “You look so beautiful…”

Another red mark. Red, red, red. It was all Himeko… all her…

You wanted to be beneath her forever. Legs in the air while the bed below you rocked with each grind of Himeko’s hips. Your cunt was all puffy and sensitive from the constant stimulation, and you had to reach down to grasp her thighs. “I’m close…please Himeko please…”

Your pleading little eyes almost drove her insane. The woman gasped and gripped your hips tightly to drag your hips over her own, craving your warmth, your lust, your body. Riding you as if this would be the last sex she’d ever have…

“Go on…” she whispers, bed creaking with every thrust. “Grind on me.”

Throwing your head back on the pillow, you took the lead and ground your cunt feverishly against hers. Despite being in the bottom position, you had the control now as you bucked your hips up until you felt Himeko get wetter. Thighs getting stickier as you sped up your movements and caused Himeko to moan.

“Aeons…you’re so…” Himeko grabbed the flesh of your thigh and tried her best to contain herself. “So…”

“Gah! What’s that noise?”

You both froze at the sound of…Pom-Pom outside your door! Ceasing your movements to stop the bed from creaking, you and Himeko shut your mouths to keep from moaning…

The conductor sounded quite afraid, as Himeko’s little moan had caused the rabbit to think the train was being haunted. “Aweeee not again! Don’t tell me there’s a new, unwanted passenger onboard…” You could feel Himeko’s frustration through her hand, squeezing your thigh with impatience while she resisted the urge to groan.

“…I better talk to Welt about this. Scary…”

Himeko grit her teeth and couldn’t take it anymore, moving her head to the side and biting your thigh to shush herself while grinding against your hips. At the pain of her teeth, you jolted and creamed against her cunt, the release prompting Himeko to cum too as well.

“Oh, Aeons, finally…” as Pom-Pom’s little feet wobbled away from your room, you could feel Himeko sigh with relief and squirt all over your thighs. “You honestly feel too good to be true…”

NATASHA

“Don’t be shy, not like I haven’t seen it before…”

Natasha cooes sweetly and cups your face with a gloved hand, her gentle nature completely juxtaposing what she was doing down below, as her other hand was busy ravaging your insides with a discarded latex glove on the floor.

Her latex glove.

“Natasha, we’re gonna get caught…” you held in a whimper and eyed the door to her office with worry. “Did we really have to do this here…?”

“Forgive me, sweetie,” Natasha whispers, breath tickling your ear and sending shivers down your spine, “I couldn’t wait. It’s after hours right now, hours meant for you and me…” She pressed a soft kiss to your ear and licked the shell of it sensually, chuckling at your adorable reactions before kissing along your jaw. “You’re so cute…”

Scissoring you apart with her middle and ring finger, she parted your walls with a continuous intrusion that left you spreading yourself almost instinctively. Her fingers like the key to your lock as she thrusts into you with her extensive medical knowledge on female anatomy.

“Feeling good?” She murmurs quietly against your ear, going deeper than ever before and prodding at your spongy walls. “It should, you’re a patient I want to feel extra good…”

You could just cum right there. Gripping onto your girlfriend’s shoulders as you parted your legs wider to allow more space to move. “You always feel good…” you sigh, basking in pleasure while she rocks you in her arms. Natasha giggled, leaning back to deliver sweet kisses to your nose and lips. “I figured…”

Sliding her palm up so it brushed your clit, she laid her head against your shoulder to rest while continuing to fuck you gently. Sighing at the beautiful moans you let out, the doctor truly was having a plentiful rest…

“You’re twitching…” Natasha murmurs, slowly speeding up her thrusts, “Almost there, sweetie?”

“Yeah…yeah I am…” you groaned and clung onto the doctor’s back, arching yours while she pounds brutally inside of you. “Keep going Nat, right there…right there…” You gasped.

Almost there…right there…

“Heyyy Natasha!”

The sudden knocking and shout of Sampo caused the two of you to stumble and twitch, your body falling slump against Natasha’s front out of embarrassment and shock.

Natasha was stunned as well, fingers still knuckles deep inside you as she glanced at the door to her office, where she could see Sampo’s silhouette through the blinds of the window. “Helloooo? You in there Nat?”

You could see her face go from worry to slight frustration as she sighed and called out to the man. “Yes, Sampo? What do you need?” She seemed slightly annoyed, but you couldn’t tell if it was because she was interrupted, or because it was Sampo of all people…

“I’m a little busy right now…” Natasha sighed.

“Ah, alright! Just wanted to stop by and say hey…” Was that really it?! Natasha shook her head before smiling playfully at you, Sampo’s footsteps gradually fading away and finally leaving you alone.

“Sorry about that, dear. I know you were so close…” You gave her a sympathetic kiss.

“It’s alright. Sampo was just being friendly.”

“I suppose, but I just feel so bad, my baby didn’t get to cum like she wanted…” Natasha’s still fingers suddenly slid out and thrusted back into you, this time with a third finger stretching you out.

“Oh—!”

“Which is why I’ll make sure my girl gets even more special treatment from me…”

#kafka smut #serval smut #himeko smut #natasha smut #hsr natasha smut #kafka x reader #serval x reader #himeko x reader #hsr natasha x reader #natasha x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #star rail smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr imagines

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thebunnednun · 7 months ago

Text

Build a Boyfriend 🧸🩷

Pairing: Shy! Pro Hero! Mirio Togata x Build a Bear helper! Pastel Goth! Reader

Summary: Mirio takes Eri to Build a Bear and falls for the pastel goth helping Eri pick out a new cuddle buddy. After some intervention from the guys he stumbles into her registrar to find ur even prettier up close and thinks he missed his chance with you.

Until he finds your note.....

TW: Cuteness overload

On with the show!!~

The workshop was buzzing with the low hum of families, children, and the occasional burst of laughter as small hands sifted through shelves of soft, plush animals. The inside of the store was a bright kaleidoscope of colors—soft pastels, warm yellows, and gentle blues—all blending together to create a welcoming, cheerful environment.

Display stands were stacked with teddy bears, bunnies, and a whole host of other creatures waiting to be brought to life by eager kids.

At the heart of it all, the sound of stuffing machines whirring and squeaking filled the air, punctuated by the chatter of customers and employees. Soft pop music played overhead, further adding to the lively yet calming atmosphere.

A few young children were gathered near the sound booth, picking out voice boxes with silly phrases to stuff inside their soon-to-be cuddly companions. Others ran up and down the aisles with parents trailing behind, trying to keep up.

Mirio stood at the front of the store with Eri, his hand gently resting on her head as she stared wide-eyed at the rows upon rows of plush animals. Her large, curious red eyes scanned the store with wonder, her small hands clutching the hem of her dress, shifting slightly as she took in the world of soft toys around her. Mirio, ever the doting older brother figure, smiled down at her, eyes sparkling with excitement for her.

It was sensory overload for her, truely. And while he felt bad about it, Mirio would rather Eri get the full experience of picking out her snuggle buddy than choosing it fo herr. He wanted this to be a gentle push into feeling more secure and independent for Eri.

Plus, he just wanted to spoil her.

“Alright, Eri, feel free to look around, okay?” Mirio said brightly, crouching down to meet her gaze, his grin wide and reassuring. “I just need to pop to the restroom for a sec. But don’t worry—Shinsou’s on his way, and I’ll be right back.”

Eri nodded shyly, her gaze shifting from Mirio to the endless selection of stuffed animals. He gave her a gentle pat on the head before standing up and sending a quick text to Shinsou, letting him know where they were. After giving Eri another smile and checking the time, Mirio quickly made his way toward the back of the store, disappearing into the hallway.

Eri, now left to her own devices, wandered through the aisles slowly. She kept her hands close to herself, unsure if it was okay to touch anything. She passed by shelves filled with fluffy bunnies, tiny bears with sailor hats, and even some superhero-themed plush toys, her steps hesitant and light.

Meanwhile, you were working the floor, wearing your red apron over a pastel goth outfit that contrasted sharply yet charmingly with the colorful ambiance of the store.

Your black, ripped jeans paired with the soft lavender of your belt, along with streaks of pastel blue and royal purple in your hair, stood out against the otherwise bubblegum, playful environment. Your outfit was a perfect blend of soft and edgy, a subtle rebellion that felt at home in a store that encouraged creativity and individuality.

As you helped another customer pick out accessories for their bear, you spotted Eri, her small form almost lost among the towering shelves. She seemed unsure of where to go or what to do, her wide eyes darting from shelf to shelf as if searching for something familiar.

“Hey there,” you greeted softly, approaching her slowly so as not to startle her. You crouched down a bit to her level, keeping a respectful distance.

“Are you looking for someone special today?”

Eri blinked up at you, her eyes a little wary but not frightened. She nodded, pointing toward the top shelf where a fluffy white bear sat. It was out of her reach, and you could tell she didn’t want to ask for help outright.

You smiled warmly, standing up and walking over to a nearby ladder. “Let me grab something real quick, and then you can do the honors.”

After propping the ladder in place, you climbed up to grab a toy "grabber" from a top shelf—a long plastic tool that could be used to reach high items. You offered it to her, the soft click of the mechanism echoing slightly as you showed her how to use it.

“Here, why don’t you give it a try? You can get the bear all by yourself,” you said, handing her the grabber with a gentle smile.

Eri hesitated for a moment, her fingers twitching nervously around the grabber’s handle. But after a moment, her determination kicked in. She extended the tool toward the bear, eyes focused in concentration as she squeezed the handle and caught the plush animal.

With a small, triumphant smile, Eri pulled the bear down, holding it carefully in her arms as though it were fragile. You gave her a little cheer, nodding in approval.

“Great job! That’s a cute one,” you said softly, watching as she hugged the bear close to her chest, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Do you want to make it extra special? I can help you with the heart ceremony.”

Eri looked up at you, curiosity filling her eyes. She nodded, and you led her to the heart ceremony station, where the soft plush hearts were kept. You gently explained the steps, making sure to give her the space to do everything herself, guiding her through the motions.

“Rub your heart in your hands for warmth,” you said with a kind smile, mimicking the action with your own plush heart. Eri followed suit, her small hands rubbing the heart together.

“Pat your heart for your friend's heartbeat forever, rub them on your head for smart thoughts, and rub them on each other so they know you're best friends.”

As you continued through the ceremony, Eri became more engaged, a light giggle escaping her lips as she touched the heart to her elbow when you added with a playful grin, “And don’t forget to tap your elbow so your new friend will always be funny!”

Eri’s eyes lit up with the little details, and she smiled brightly as she hugged the heart to her chest before placing it inside her new bear.

Behind her, in the shadow of the store’s entrance, Mirio watched quietly, a warm smile creeping across his face. He hadn’t expected to see Eri so at ease, especially in a new place. The way you respected her space, never crowding or overwhelming her, made his chest swell with gratitude. He was about to step forward when he felt a familiar presence behind him.

“What’re you staring at?” Shinsou’s voice broke the moment as he approached, giving Mirio a teasing look.

Mirio turned with a grin, his blue eyes bright as he spotted Shinsou approaching. Shinsou, dressed in his usual casual wear—a dark hoodie and jeans—stood out among the bright colors and vibrant energy of the workshop. His messy purple hair framed his face as he shoved his hands into his pockets, watching Mirio with a raised brow.

“Just watching Eri have a good time,” Mirio replied, motioning toward the heart ceremony station. Shinsou’s eyes followed, his expression softening slightly when he saw the little girl happily finishing up the ceremony with her new plush bear. She was beaming now, her earlier hesitancy gone, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and joy.

“Looks like she’s having a good time,” Shinsou muttered, his tone more affectionate than usual. He had grown attached to Eri in his own quiet way, often showing up to hang out with her when he could.

He wasn’t the type to get openly sentimental, but moments like this made him feel lighter.

Mirio clapped a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder, his grin widening. “Thanks for coming, by the way. I know it’s not your scene, but Eri likes having you around.”

Shinsou shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well you know I can’t say no to her.”

As they stood there, watching Eri carefully adjust her bear’s fur you approached with a gentle smile. Spotting Mirio and Shinsou near the entrance, she gave them a nod of acknowledgment before turning her attention back to you.

“Does your bear have a name yet?” you asked softly, crouching down again to meet Eri’s eye level. She looked up at you with that same small smile, thinking for a moment as she hugged her bear tighter.

“Yes,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, but there was a sense of pride in her choice. Mirio watches with some confusion as Eri whispers it to you.

“That’s a perfect name,” you said with a warm chuckle, standing up and adjusting your apron as you prepared to ring her up. “Let’s get him all set up, then.”

Eri followed you toward the shelves with outfits, clutching Lemi in her arms as she gazed around the store one last time. You noticed how she kept glancing toward Shinsou and Mirio as if checking to make sure they hadn’t disappeared. They both gave her a reassuring wave from across the store, and she visibly relaxed, her steps becoming more confident.

You glanced up from the shelves, your eyes briefly meeting Mirio’s. He stood near the entrance, staring at you a little longer than necessary, his broad shoulders outlined by the glow of the afternoon sun. He had that goofy grin, the one that lit up his entire face, but there was something more behind it, a quiet admiration in his gaze.

Just as you return to checking on Eri, a figure sidled up beside Mirio. Shinsou, with his shit eating grin, elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes, man,” Shinsou teased in his usual deadpan tone. “Why don’t you just go over there and say something?”

Mirio blinked rapidly, his grin faltering for the briefest moment as his face flushed a deep pink. “W-What? No, I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, right,” Shinsou cut in, rolling his eyes. “I could practically hear your heart pounding from across the room.” He gave Mirio a little push toward you and Eri, who was carefully adjusting the tiny outfit on her new bear, completely oblivious to the commotion behind her.

“Go on, big guy. She’s right there.”

Mirio stumbled forward, awkwardly regaining his footing with a sheepish laugh. His usual confidence was nowhere to be found as he approached, Shinsou trailing behind him with a lazy, amused stride.

You stepped in front of Eri protectively the moment you saw the two boys approaching. Instinctively, you put yourself between her and the newcomers, your body tense as you sized them up, ready for anything. But before you could say a word, Eri’s face lit up at the sight of her two of her favorite boys.

“Mirio! Shinsou!” she squealed, her eyes bright with excitement. She hopped up and down on the spot, holding her newly made bear in front of her like a prized possession.

The tension in your shoulders eased slightly, but you stayed close to Eri, watching the interaction carefully. Mirio’s flustered expression softened as he knelt down to Eri’s level, his smile warm and familiar again.

“Hey Eri! Who’s this?” he asked, motioning toward the bear in her arms.

Eri beamed, a little confused, and pointed up at you. “She’s my new friend.”

Mirio leaned in, squinting at you with a faux-serious expression. “New friend, huh? Looks like a tough one,” he said, his voice light. You huff and laugh before he stuff his hands in his back pockets and rocks before he then pokes the bear gently and then adds with a sincere tone, “You’re so cool, Eri!”

Eri giggled, hugging the bear closer and you nod, “She is!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the scene, the warmth of it spreading through you. Eri seemed so comfortable with him, like a big brother and his quiet, teasing friend.

“So,” you began, looking between the three of them, “is this your brother?” you asked, gesturing toward Mirio, though you couldn’t quite keep the teasing edge out of your voice.

Mirio laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, no, not exactly. But I do look after her,” he explained, his eyes softening as he glanced at Eri. “She’s special to us.”

You nodded, your heart warming at his response. “That’s sweet. You seem to care about her a lot.” Just as you were about to hand Eri back over to Mirio, the workshop’s door swung open once again.

The air in the room shifted as a tall, scruffy figure walked in, wearing his signature black scarf draped loosely around his shoulders.

Aizawa, with his ever-tired eyes and a slight slouch in his posture, made his way toward the group, his wallet already in hand. His gaze flickered between you and Eri, who immediately perked up at the sight of him.

“Dad!” Eri called out, her small voice carrying across the room.

Aizawa’s tired expression softened at her excitement, and he gave a small nod before turning his attention to you. “I see you’ve made a friend,” he said, his voice low but not unkind. He held up his hero license for your reassurance. “I’m her guardian.”

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing as you realized your earlier assumption. “Great, these guys are nice but I couldn’t release her to them without a parents' permission,” you stammered, bowing your head slightly. “I just wanted to make sure she was with someone safe.”

Aizawa’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile. “No need to apologize. You did the right thing by being cautious. I appreciate how well you’ve treated her.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a sense of relief washing over you. Eri, still clutching the golden teddy bear, grinned up at Aizawa, clearly happy to see him. Mirio, ever the optimist, gave a thumbs-up toward you.

“See? You’re great with her,” he said, his usual enthusiasm returning.

Aizawa ruffled Eri’s hair gently, glancing over at you once more. “Thanks for helping her. She doesn’t trust people easily, but she seems to like you.”

Eri nodded vigorously, hugging the golden bear tighter. “I do!”

You could have been knocked over with a feather with how happy you felt making that little girl smile and help her create a core memory.

The moment settled into a quiet comfort, the soft hum of the workshop around you, as Aizawa stood by Eri’s side, and you felt a quiet sense of connection with the little girl.

She has a good family here, no doubt about it.

You chuckled softly to yourself as you grabbed the small wooden step stool tucked near the counter. With a fluid motion, you brought it over to Eri, who eagerly clambered up onto it. Her tiny hands reached up toward the counter and placed her new bear, who sat proudly.

The excitement in her eyes was contagious as she carefully took in the action of you scanning the bear and filling in the information Aizawa gave you into the database before sliding her friend back into her hand, giving the bear a quick once-over as if to make sure nothing was out of place.

“Look! Isn’t he cute?” Eri beamed, holding the new playmate out for Aizawa and Mirio to inspect. Mirio, still a bit flustered from earlier, managed to nod, though words seemed to escape him. Shinsou, as usual, wasn’t going to let that slide.

“Come on, big guy, she’s waiting for some praise,” Shinsou said with a raised brow, nudging Mirio with his elbow.

Mirio blinked, looking between Eri and the bear as if his brain had short-circuited.

“Y-Yeah! She’s adorable!” he finally managed to say, his voice a little too loud in his eagerness.

You smiled at the scene, turning back to Eri. “Alright, let’s fill out these ‘adoption papers’ for him, okay?” You handed Eri a small form—a fun, simple sheet for her to fill out with her little buddies name, favorite activities, and promise to care for her new friend.

Eri took the sparkle pom pom pen with a determined nod, sitting cross-legged on the stool as she began writing carefully.

As Eri focused, her soft voice floated up toward you. “Just like with me!” she said brightly, her small hand gripping the pen a little tighter.

The words sent a wave of silence through the room. It was as if time itself froze. Mirio, Shinsou, and Aizawa all exchanged looks, the weight of her innocent statement hanging in the air. The unspoken gravity of her situation, how she was adopted by Aizawa after everything she had been through, washed over the group.

You, on the other hand, had pieced it together when you saw the two walk in and seen how nervous Eri seemed with touch. Hence why you offered her some alternative instead of being more hands on like your coworkers.

For a moment, the noise of the workshop dimmed, replaced with a quiet reverence of her writing.

Before anyone could respond, the door burst open, and Izuku came stumbling in, dripping wet, his breath ragged and his wild hair sticking to his forehead. It was immediately clear what had happened—he’d just been thrown into the fountain outside.

Again.

“I-I’m okay!” he wheezed, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Eri’s solemn face broke into pure delight at the sight of him.

“Izuku!” she cheered, waving enthusiastically, her spirits immediately lifted. She proudly signed the adoption papers with a flourish before handing them to you.

You smiled warmly, taking the papers from her and carefully boxing up the teddy bear. “Alright, your new friend is all set,” you said, handing Eri the box, which she clutched to her chest protectively.

Before anyone could fully relax, Monoma and Bakugou came charging into the room, both out of breath and clearly mid-argument.

Monoma was the first to speak, of course. “Just so you know, he—” he pointed dramatically at Bakugou “—backhanded Izuku into the fountain.”

Katsuki snarled, glaring daggers at Monoma. “Tch, for once it was an accident! I was trying to punch you.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?” Monoma scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Would my fist up your ass make it better?” Bakugou barked, clenching his fists as the two squared off, their bickering quickly escalating.

Aizawa sighed deeply, massaging his temples. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath before excusing himself from the registrar desk. He stepped between the two boys, his exhaustion palpable.

“Enough,” he said flatly, voice laced with authority, but it didn’t stop them from grumbling at each other.

Shinsou, watching with a smirk, took this as his cue. He gave Mirio a subtle nudge forward, his hands resting casually behind his back as if he hadn’t just shoved the older boy in your direction. Mirio, unsteady and blushing all over again, stumbled toward you, barely managing to stay upright.

“Guess you’re up,” Shinsou said with a sly, Cheshire grin before trailing after Aizawa, clearly entertained by the chaos.

You raised an eyebrow at Mirio, who now stood awkwardly in front of you, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. His usual confidence had all but evaporated, leaving him standing there, fidgeting under your gaze.

You continued packing up a few more supplies, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly. Mirio, still trying to recover from Shinsou's teasing, stumbled up toward you, his large frame knocking gently into the edge of the registrar desk.

“Oh! Sorry about that!” he blurted, immediately looking down at you with an apologetic smile.

You glanced up, amused by his flustered state. “No sweat. Nothing's broken, so we’re all good.”

You waved off his apology with a casual grin before returning to your packing, carefully organizing the boxes behind the counter. The soft rustling of tissue paper filled the air as you folded up some final pieces of merchandise, stacking them neatly.

“So,” you began, trying to ease the tension with a playful smirk, “is getting pushed around by 'Shinsou' part of the usual dynamic, or is this a special occasion?”

Mirio laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, I think he’s just having fun at my expense today,” he admitted sheepishly, his smile returning, albeit a bit more bashful than before.

Eri, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to step up beside you, clutching her newly boxed bear and watching you curiously. She tilted her head, her brows furrowing as she observed both you and Shinsou in the distance.

“Are you… emo? Like Shinsou?”

Mirio tensed beside you, his eyes going wide at the question. He shot you a nervous glance, as if expecting you to be offended. But instead, a laugh bubbled up from your chest, light and genuine, filling the space between you all.

“Emo? Nah, not quite,” you said, still chuckling. You ruffled Eri's hair lightly with the pen before pointing to the purple and blue streaks running through your own. “But I get why you might think that. I’m actually a pastel goth.”

Eri's face lit up with curiosity, her eyes widening as you untied your apron and did a playful little spin in front of her. “See?” You gestured to your outfit—ripped black jeans, a pretty lace pastel top in your favorite shade, and the rainbow chains that connected from your belt to your pockets that added a splash of color to your otherwise dark base palette.

“And these are my favorite!” You lifted one foot to show her your dip-dyed tennis shoes, a soft gradient of pastel shades fading into the white canvas. “I made these myself.”

Eri’s mouth formed a perfect “O” of awe, her small hands reaching out as if to touch your shoes. “Wow! How did you do that? They’re so pretty!”

You crouched down to her level, smiling as you explained the process. “Thank you, sweetie! It’s called tie-dye. You take plain shoes or clothes, tie them in different spots, and then dip them in different colors of dye. You can get all kinds of patterns that way! Want me to show you?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, already imagining the possibilities.

Throughout the exchange, you didn’t notice the way Mirio was watching you. His eyes followed your every movement—how you spun effortlessly, the way you smiled so warmly at Eri, how you explained things with ease. His heart raced in his chest, he gulped, trying to shake off the strange, intense nervousness crawling up his spine.

Mirio couldn't understand why it suddenly felt so hard to breathe, why his palms were sweating. Every time he tried to speak, his mouth dried up even more, like a dessert made out of sandpaper topped with crunchy peanut butter.

He desperately wanted to look away, but his gaze was drawn to you, like a magnet pulling him in despite his mind screaming at him to just fade into the wall and disappear.

Still, Mirio couldn't help but stay, silently rooting himself to the spot, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding in front of him. The way you connected with Eri, the easy laughter between you—it was like a warmth that had settled into the room, and though it made him flustered, he didn't want to leave.

You were still kneeling, explaining the basics of tie-dye with a smile, using your phone to show her how she could create something similar. Mirio stood stiffly, watching you with wide eyes, and though he was usually the picture of calm confidence, today was different.

His nerves kicking up in full force.

He wanted to speak, maybe even add something to the conversation, but his brain couldn’t form the words. It was as if the more he watched you interacting with Eri, the more his thoughts and nerves tangled themselves into sweaty knots.

Still, you kept the conversation flowing naturally, completely unaware of the inner turmoil Mirio was going through.

"It’s all about experimenting and having fun with colors,” you said, showing Eri how different patterns could form.

Eri nodded eagerly, fascinated by every word, while Mirio stood beside you, his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like a deer in headlights, but every time you smiled or laughed, it felt like someone turned the temperature in the room up a few degrees.

Mirio blinked, snapping back to reality just in time to notice Shinsou staring at him from outside the store.

Shinsou’s eyes held a mischievous glint, as he subtly gestured toward you with a small nod of his head. Mirio followed the motion, his mind catching up with the situation. His heart skipped when he realized Shinsou was egging him on, pushing him toward you in a way that was just as playful as it was serious.

Behind Shinsou, Fatgum and Kirishima were rolling up to join the growing group, both exchanging easy grins. Fatgum seemed relaxed, his large frame towering over the others, eating some mall pretzels, while Kirishima waved enthusiastically, clearly trying to disarm the chaos that was unfolding.

Meanwhile, Aizawa stood a little farther off, arms crossed, his usual weary expression in place as he muttered something to himself.

“Herding cats is easier than dealing with them,” Aizawa complained under his breath, side-eyeing Bakugou and Monoma, who were still bickering like two kids fighting over sub vs dub anime.

Izuku was caught in the middle trying to remedy the situation, still damp, as Monoma had his hands up in a dramatic display of innocence, while Bakugou looked like he was one second away from cold blooded murder.

Tamaki, ever the quiet one, had appeared in the background, looking completely lost in the flurry of activity. His wide, nervous eyes darted between his friends, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

But when Shinsou leaned in and whispered something in his ear, a faint blush immediately crept up Tamaki's neck, turning his face a deep shade of red. He turned and gave Mirio a hesitant but determined “game face,” his sharp, elfin ears twitching slightly as he forced himself to give a thumbs-up of encouragement.

Mirio’s heart warmed at Tamaki’s attempt to cheer him on. A bright smile broke out on his face, a silent thank you to his friend. With Tamaki’s confidence-boosting thumbs-up and Shinsou’s teasing still hanging in the air, Mirio’s determination grew. He squared his shoulders and turned back to face you, taking a steadying breath.

But when he looked at you again, he nearly forgot how to breathe entirely.

Eri had somehow found her way into your arms, comfortably perched on your hip. Her small fingers were gently poking at your ear piercings, her wide, innocent eyes full of fascination as you let her touch the little hoops and studs. You were watching Mirio now, meeting his gaze with a calm smile that made something inside him turn to mush.

'Fuck.'

It was like all the noise in the background—the bickering between Bakugou and Monoma, the faint grumbling from Aizawa, even the shuffling footsteps of students in the distance—faded into nothing.

“Uh…” Mirio started, trying to find his voice, but his throat felt impossibly dry again.

“Are they gonna be okay?” You nodded slightly toward the commotion behind him, where Bakugou’s voice had risen several notches as he squared off with Monoma.

Just as you asked, both Bakugou and Monoma shouted something unintelligible, their voices overlapping in a chaotic burst of sound. You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, but nodded as if nothing was amiss.

Mirio rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his fingers brushing against the short hairs at the nape as he grinned awkwardly.

“Yeah...they’ll be fine.” He tried to sound confident, but his mind was a mess of thoughts he couldn’t quite grasp. He noticed, more than ever, how close you were standing, with Eri resting in your arms like she belonged there, her small hands still occasionally fiddling with your piercings.

The way you cradled her so naturally made something stir inside him—a mix of admiration and awe.

His heart started pounding again, the way it had before, but this time it was louder, more insistent. He couldn’t stop himself from noticing the little details about you. The way the light in the room softened around your face, casting a gentle glow on your skin. The hint of colors in your hair, the soft purples and blues catching in the air like a breath of wind.

And that smile—warm, inviting, and effortlessly beautiful. It made him feel like he was standing in the middle of a sunlit field on a perfect summer’s day, the kind where everything was alive and vibrant, and you were the brightest thing in it.

You weren’t just pretty. No, pretty was too small of a word to describe how you made him feel. You are beautiful.

'Breathtaking.'

Not just because of how you looked but because of your whole aura. It was like you radiated this light, this quiet strength, that made people around you feel safe and welcome. It was in the way you held Eri so gently, like she was the most precious thing in the world, and the way you spoke with such ease, your words always soft yet full of warmth.

Mirio could swear he saw the rest of his life in your eyes at that moment. He imagined laughter, quiet moments, and endless afternoons spent in the kind of peace only you seemed to carry with you. It hit him like a wave—this overwhelming sense of admiration and something more, something deeper, that he wasn’t sure how to name yet.

You tilted your head slightly, studying him for a moment. “You okay there, Mirio?”

Your voice broke through his swirling thoughts, pulling him back to the present. Mirio’s cheeks flared with heat, and he quickly rubbed the back of his neck again, this time laughing a little too loudly.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good!” He forced out the words, his smile still bright, though a bit shaky. “Just... you know, keeping an eye on those two,” he added, motioning again toward the argument that was now simmering behind him.

Kirishima had dropped his bag of hair dye in favor of holding onto Bakugou’s middle, whose hands were crackling faintly, while Izuku stood in front of Monoma, bandaged arms spread as Monoma looked like he was enjoying talking shit way too much.

Aizawa was laying into them for doing this again in public as Shinsou was holding up Tamaki who looked like he wanted to pass away from the onlookers and Fatgum is trying to divert the attention while also handing out fliers to his favorite restaurant in the mall.

“Yeah, they totally have it under control.”

You glanced in their direction before looking back at him, your lips curving into a smile that sent his heart racing all over again. “Seems like you've got your hands full.” You poke Eri in her belly and she squeals before holding onto you again.

Mirio chuckled, nodding in agreement. “You have no idea.”

Just then, Eri tugged gently on your sleeve, drawing both your attention. “Can I see the shoes again?” she asked, her voice small but eager.

You smiled down at her, giving her a little nod. “Of course.” You shifted her in your arms and then lifted one of your feet, showing her the soft colors of your tie-dye shoes again. She giggled, reaching out to touch them, her fascination with the colors and patterns not yet fading.

And as Mirio watched the scene unfold—the way you moved so effortlessly with Eri in your arms, the soft way you spoke, the ease with which you brought light into the room—he couldn’t help but think,

‘Yeah, I’m a goner.’

Mirio blinked, his mind momentarily lost in the haze of his own thoughts as he watched you. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed until he noticed your lips moving, the soft curve of them drawing his attention. For a second, all he could focus on was the way they shaped each word, the gentle rhythm of your voice fading into the background.

He didn’t register what you were saying—just that you were talking to him.

Then, as if shaken from a dream, Mirio blipped in surprise, his eyes widening as he coughed awkwardly. “Oh! Sorry! I—uh, what were you saying?” His voice cracked a little, his embarrassment clear as he rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what’s up with me today.”

You chuckled softly, a sound that made Mirio’s heart skip a beat. There was no judgment in your eyes, just warmth. “It’s okay,” you said, your tone teasing but kind. “Are you okay, though? You seem a little… distracted.”

He forced a smile, though his heart was still racing. “Yeah, I’m good now. Just—” Mirio stumbled over his words for a second before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “I think I just spaced out for a bit.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, clearly unconvinced but playful. “Well, as long as you're not running on empty or something.” You flashed him a smile, and Mirio couldn’t help but return it, feeling the tension ease a little.

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, making light conversation. You asked him how his day had been, and he asked you about yours. The small talk flowed effortlessly, and despite the occasional flustered moments on Mirio’s end, the interaction felt natural. You told him a funny story about one of your coworkers accidentally scanning a customer’s face instead of their item, and Mirio laughed, his usual cheerfulness slipping back into place.

He was starting to feel more like himself again, even as he struggled to keep his thoughts from wandering back to how much he liked your smile and how warm and good your voice is.

He could listen to you read the phone book for all he cares!

As Mirio lingered, his gaze darting between you and the door, he finally cleared his throat, summoning a bit of courage. "You know," he started, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar, nervous way, "you’re, uh… pretty good with Eri. I bet you could make a career out of making people feel special."

You laughed softly, raising an eyebrow as you leaned against the counter.

"Oh yeah? Does that include you?"

Mirio froze for a moment, his heart skipping a beat before he quickly stumbled over his words. "W-Well, I mean… you’re already good at that too." His cheeks flushed pink, and he tried to recover by flashing you one of his signature, bright smiles. "I guess I’m just lucky to be on the receiving end."

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned in a little. "Is that so? Mm, I’ll have to make sure to treat you extra special next time, then."

Mirio’s face heated up further, but he managed to chuckle nervously, scratching his head. "I, uh… I wouldn’t mind that."

Suddenly, a small voice piped up from below. Eri was tugging at Mirio’s sleeve with a sweet smile on her face.

"Are you two flirting?" she asked innocently, her eyes wide and curious.

Both of you blinked in surprise, exchanging a quick glance before bursting into laughter. You crouched down to Eri’s level, gently ruffling her hair.

"Maybe a little," you teased, glancing up at Mirio, whose face had turned a deep shade of red.

Mirio bent down too, his hand resting on Eri’s shoulder. "Just a little," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "You caught us." Eri giggled, clearly pleased with herself. "I like it. It makes you both smile."

You and Mirio shared a look again, warmth spreading between you as her innocent words sank in. Smiling, you reached out and gave Eri a playful poke on the nose. "Well, we’ll just have to keep smiling for you then, won’t we?"

Eri perks up at that and looks at you with something you can’t place. But she leans into your face to close her eyes and hug you tight. You return the hug, your cheek against the crown of her head and let your warmth radiate into her.

Mirio’s heart swelled at the sight, his smile soft and sincere. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice a little quieter now.

"We will."

Outside the store, the once-heated argument between Bakugou and Monoma was finally winding down. Their voices, which had been loud and chaotic earlier, were now quieter, only a few muttered grumbles echoing in the distance. Aizawa reappeared shortly after, looking more exasperated than before but clearly relieved that the chaos had subsided.

He approached the counter, tired eyes flicking over to Eri, who was still happily holding the box containing her new teddy bear. “You all set, kid?” he asked, his voice softening ever so slightly when addressing her.

Eri nodded eagerly, hugging the box tighter. “He’s ready to go home!” she declared with a big smile.

You smiled at the sight, already scanning the item at the register as Aizawa fished around in his pocket for his wallet. As you rang up the bear, your fingers discreetly punched in a few extra numbers on the keypad.

Mirio, standing just off to the side, happened to glance over and caught the brief flash of numbers. He furrowed his brows slightly, noticing that you’d keyed in what looked like a discount code. Before he could say anything, you turned to him with a wink and a sly smile, your lips curling at the corners in the most mischievous way.

You handed the bag you placed the packages in to Aizawa with a casual grace, as if nothing unusual had just happened. “Here you go,” you said, leaning down slightly so Eri could see the bag. “Take good care of him.”

Aizawa gave you a nod, his expression as unreadable as ever, though there was a slight glint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. He turned to Eri. “Ready to go?”

Eri nodded enthusiastically, still cradling her new friend. But before they left, she looked up at you with wide eyes. “Thank you for helping me adopt him!” she chirped happily, her excitement contagious.

You smiled back, giving her a little wave. “Anytime, Eri. You and your new friend take care of each other, okay?” She nods and holds up the box to the frazzled group of boys before tugging Aizawa with her to go show them.

As Aizawa and Eri made their way out of the store, Mirio stood there for a second longer, watching the interaction with an odd mix of admiration and butterflies. You turned to him once more, your smile lingering, and for a brief moment, he swore the whole world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“You like kids, huh?” Mirio finally asked, his voice light with amusement as he raised an eyebrow.

You gave him another wink, the same mischievous glint in your eyes. “What can I say? Perks of the job.”

“Mirio come on!”

“I’ll be right there!”

The blonde waves to you before racing out of the store (almost hitting his face in the glass doors too) before rejoining the group outside. The atmosphere was filled with a blend of excitement and warmth. Mirio stands off to the side, watching you as you got back to work, expertly tying your apron into a neat bow around your waist, your fingers deftly maneuvering the fabric.

There was a lightness in the air, a hint of magic lingering in the moment, and he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Eri’s excitement.

“Hey, how did it go?” Shinsou nudged him playfully, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Mirio chuckled, scratching the back of his head, his cheeks a little pink. “Oh, you know, just normal stuff,” he replied, trying to play it cool despite the butterflies dancing in his stomach.

The boys—Izuku, Kirishima, Monoma, Bakugou, Tamaki, and Fatgum—quickly gathered around, their curiosity piqued. “Did Eri get her new friend?” Izuku asked eagerly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Eri piped up, bouncing on her toes. “I did! His name is Lemi!” she declared proudly, clutching the plush bear to her chest. Mirio felt a rush of emotion at the name; it felt personal, like a little piece of her heart wrapped in the soft fabric.

“Lemi? That’s adorable!” Kirishima exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look. But then Eri faltered, her expression shifting as she realized she hadn’t dressed him yet.

Just then, Aizawa approached, his expression mildly bemused. “You can come back another day to dress him,” he said, and Mirio, without thinking, immediately volunteered, “I’ll take her!”

Eri’s face lit up, and she eagerly opened the box for everyone to see, her excitement palpable. “Look!” she exclaimed, revealing Lemi nestled among other items.

Bakugou, who had been watching with a critical eye, leaned in. “What’s in the bag?” he asked, crossing his arms with a hint of suspicion.

Aizawa paused, confusion flickering across his face before he reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a small collection of outfits. The group gathered closer as he spread the items out on a nearby table in the food court, their eyes widening in amazement.

“Are those…?” Kirishima began, his voice trailing off as they all realized the outfits were mini versions of their hero costumes.

Mirio felt his heart swell with pride and warmth. He glanced at Eri, who was practically glowing with joy, her eyes shining like stars. When she spotted Mirio’s hero costume tucked inside, she squealed in delight.

“Look! It’s just like yours!”

With an infectious smile, she hugged him tightly, and in that moment, Lemi echoed a familiar phrase: “You’re so cool!” Her joyous squeak made everyone burst into laughter, and as she dropped the bear in surprise, Bakugou lunged forward, catching it just in time.

“Careful!” Bakugou grunted, a mix of irritation and fondness in his voice. The group shared a knowing look, the camaraderie palpable.

Izuku gently took the bear from Bakugou and squeezed its tummy. “Wow, it talks!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. Lemi chimed in again, this time explaining that the voice must have come with the bear.

Mirio’s heart raced as he pieced it all together, realizing you must have been the one holding the voice box when he first approached Eri. A warm smile spread across his face at the thought of you crafting this magical experience for her.

Just then, Aizawa pulled out a note from his pocket and handed it to Mirio. There was a hint of a smile on his usually stoic face. “This is for you,” he said, his tone teasing yet encouraging.

Mirio took the note, his breath hitching slightly as he swore he could feel the warmth from your fingertips had left for him.

As the teasing continued, Mirio felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, the excitement now mixed with anxiety. The note felt heavier in his hands, and he was unsure how to handle the sudden attention. With a quick glance at Tamaki, he decided to pass the note to him instead, hoping his friend might read it without the weight of all their curious eyes on him.

Tamaki accepted the note with a shaky hand, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. He cleared his throat softly before unfolding it, his cheeks already turning a deep shade of red. As he read, the whispers and laughter around them faded, all eyes drawn to him.

Mirio watched anxiously as Tamaki’s eyes widened, a hint of disbelief crossing his features. “U-um…” he stammered, before glancing back at Mirio, his voice barely above a whisper. “S-Sorry,” he managed to say, quickly handing the note back with a beet-red face.

“What does it say?” Izuku urged, leaning in closer, curiosity shining in his eyes.

Tamaki, flustered, mumbled, “It’s… um… really nice.”

Mirio took the note back, heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath and began to read aloud:

“Hey! :D Mirio, right? Thanks for being so wonderful today! I really enjoyed spending time with you and Eri. You’ve got a really cute smile! If you’re not seeing anyone, let's hang out soon! If you ever want to chat or need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’d love to hook Lemi up again. ;3

Looking forward to seeing you and your Eri<33! — Your local Pastel Goth

x-678-999-8212

It was a simple thank you, but at the bottom, your number was scrawled neatly, making his heart leap.

Eri watched him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “What does it say?” she asked, her tiny voice full of curiosity.

“It’s a note from the lady,” he said, unable to hide the grin on his face. “She said we can plan more fun days together.”

The boys exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and teasing delight washing over their expressions. Eri squealed with excitement, her little hands clapping. “She thinks you’re wonderful!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Look at Mirio, all blushing!” Monoma laughed, while Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a smirk.

Mirio’s heart raced, warmth creeping into his cheeks as he tried to play it cool. “It’s just a note,” he stammered, but the grin on his face betrayed his feigned nonchalance.

“Just a note? Dude, that’s definitely more than just a note!” Kirishima chimed in, clapping him on the back with enthusiasm.

Tamaki, still blushing, looked down at his feet, mumbling, “I-I think she likes you…”

As the teasing continued, Mirio couldn’t help but feel a sense of happiness blooming inside him. The nervousness ebbed away, replaced by excitement at the thought of seeing you again. Eri’s bubbly enthusiasm and the camaraderie of his friends made it all feel so much brighter, like everything was finally falling into place.

Bakugou rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “You’re such a dork,” he teased, earning a playful shove from Kirishima.

Fatgum chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You boys better watch out. Mirio’s got a secret weapon now,” he said, gesturing to the note with a grin.

As the playful banter continued, Mirio felt a swell of happiness. The bond he was forming with you, Eri, and the rest of the group felt like a bright beacon in his life. He couldn’t wait for the next mall adventure, knowing that you would be a part of it.

“Let’s get home before your classmates burn the dorms down.”

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

As the day wound down and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the window of Aizawa’s living room, Mirio found a cozy spot on the couch with Eri nestled against him. The warmth of the moment wrapped around them like a comforting blanket, Eri’s small fingers clutching the note you’d written, her eyelids growing heavy as sleep threatened to claim her.

Mirio, still buzzing from the day’s events, felt the soft rhythm of Eri’s breath against him, her little body rising and falling in a peaceful slumber. He couldn’t help but smile, his heart swelling with affection for the girl who had quickly become so dear to him. The note rested on his chest, a tangible reminder of you and the promise of more moments to come.

Just then, Shinsou, lounging nearby, couldn’t resist the urge to capture the scene. He quietly pulled out his phone, careful not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere. The sight of Mirio, looking blissfully content with Eri curled up beside him, was too precious to pass up. With a mischievous grin, he snapped a quick picture, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face for just a moment.

“Adorable,” Shinsou whispered to himself, stifling a chuckle as he looked at the picture. Mirio stirred slightly but didn’t wake, a gentle smile still gracing his features. The room was filled with a sense of warmth and safety, the bond between them solidifying in the simplicity of the moment.

As Mirio drifted further away, he felt a sense of contentment wash over him. It was a day well spent, and he couldn’t help but look forward to what tomorrow would bring for them all.

🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊🌞 😄 🧱 👊

The morning sun filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table where Eri, Mirio, and Shinsou were happily digging into a stack of fluffy pancakes. Eri’s eyes sparkled with delight as she drizzled syrup over her stack, the sweet smell wafting through the air.

As they chatted and giggled, the sound of shuffling feet approached. Aizawa emerged from his room, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, just as Yamada bustled in, carrying a plate piled high with golden pancakes.

“Good morning, Shouta!” he called cheerfully, setting the plate down in front of him.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Aizawa asked, his voice still raspy from sleep as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Eri beamed up at him, her cheeks stuffed with pancakes. “I slept great! And guess what, Mr. Aizawa? Mirio called that lady from the store last night to set up a playdate at the park today! We’re going to hang out together!”

Mirio’s face instantly turned crimson, his cheeks matching the color of a ripe tomato as he fumbled with his fork. “I, uh... it’s not like that!” he stammered, his embarrassment palpable. Shinsou, sitting across from him, stifled a laugh behind his hand, a smirk spreading across his face as he watched Mirio squirm.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just be safe, you two. And remember to keep an eye on Eri,” he added, glancing pointedly at Mirio, who was still blushing fiercely.

“Of course!” Eri chirped, her excitement infectious. Mirio, despite his flushed face, couldn’t help but feel a rush of joy at the thought of seeing you again. He grinned, the anticipation bubbling within him as he tried to play it cool.

“Yeah, we’ll have a great time!”

Meanwhile, on your end, you were sprawled across your bed, heart still racing from the phone call. Your face was buried in your pillow as you squealed, muffling the sound of your excitement. He really called me! He really called me! you thought, replaying every detail in your mind, savoring it like your favorite song.

You remembered the moment his number flashed on your phone screen. Not knowing who it was, you picked up with a casual, "Hello?" but inside you were buzzing with nerves, especially when you heard his voice crack a little as he started talking.

"H-Hey! It's Mirio... I hope I'm not calling too late," he said, his voice warm but tinged with a kind of awkwardness that made him even more endearing. You could practically see him rubbing the back of his neck, just like when he’d been standing in the store earlier.

"No, you're fine!" you replied, a smile spreading across your face as you pressed the phone tighter to your ear. You had just finished working around midnight before heading home to eat a grilled cheese and shower before climbing into your black strawberry print sheets.

Did your bones ache? 100% absolutely, no doubt about it. But you really liked the afflictions of his voice and it beats the boyfriend asmr you listen to sometimes to fall asleep.

"What’s up?"

There was a pause, and you could hear him exhale, almost like he was gathering courage. "I, uh... Eri wanted to go to the park tomorrow, and I thought maybe... if you’re not busy, you could... join us? If you want. No pressure! I mean, it’s just a park. A public place. With, you know, swings and stuff... so, uh..."

You giggled softly, letting him off the hook. "A public place, huh? That sounds very safe. I'd love to come along."

He sighed in relief, but then there was a moment of silence before he awkwardly admitted, "I... actually realized I never got your name. Kinda... embarrassing, huh?"

You grinned, teasing him just a little, "Oh, so you called me without even knowing my name? Bold move, Mirio."

He chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, I guess so! I just... I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it was talking to you today. You’re, like, really easy to talk to. And, uh..." He hesitated again, and you could feel the shift in his tone, his vulnerability coming through.

"You’re really pretty, too. That’s... part of it. You’ve got this energy, you know? It’s just... it feels good to be around you. So I figured I’d take a chance."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a wave of warmth spread through you. You teased him again, just lightly. "Oh really? Well, you’re not too bad yourself. I’ve gotta say, you did look pretty good today with the sun shining over you like that."

'I wanted to bite your lips when you smiled.'

There was a bashful laugh on the other end of the line. "You think so? I felt so nervous talking to you, I thought I might trip over my own words."

"Well, you did great," you replied softly, feeling your own nerves start to settle. Talking to him was surprisingly easy, despite how flustered you both were.

You thought back to the way he had smiled earlier, how his eyes crinkled in the most charming way when he looked down at Eri, and how, for a moment, you'd feel a little flutter of nerves yourself. Thank God for Eri being there to smooth over the tension. You found yourself wishing you had asked him for a hug before he left.

'No,no,no, that would be weird! AGH!'

As you lay there now, hugging your pillow, your mind wandered back to how close he’d stood to you, and that same flutter of nerves returned. You dropped the pillow from your face and sat up, grinning like a kid. Your heart was still racing, but this time it was all excitement.

“Can’t wait,” you whispered to yourself, the smile lingering on your lips as you hopped out of bed to get ready for tomorrow’s ‘play date’—if that’s what you could even call it.

You had a gut feeling it would be more than just that.~

I'm whipping up a part 2, what do you all think?

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @raendarkfaerie If you wanna be added lemme know!

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Bakugou here in the master list. I also have a Pro Hero! Bakugou x Sugar Baby fic and a Aizawa Fic.

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I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

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