#I was going to (finally) take pics in the blue lingerie you sent me but then I was a lil sad cause I didn’t know if you’d see it

[rosicheeks]

Rosie darling yes it is your long lost darling anon. I am back. I’m sorry for disappearing for a while. I have missed you. ❤️❤️

omgomgomgomg

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

[mrs-santoss]

Teasing Queen - Neymar Imagine

Summary: Y/N decides to tease Neymar with a few pics from her camera roll during a very inappropriate time. ;)

Warning: mentions of sex. I ordered some lingerie sets the other day and they finally arrived. I was at home when the package arrived I was very excited to open it right away and try on everything I got. First, I tried on the blue lingerie and took a good pic of it, next, I tried on the red set I was very pleased with, even the photo came out very hot. Next up, was the dark blue set which turned out to be my favorite one, I felt very confident in it. Last but not least, I tried on the yellow set and took a photo wearing this one too. I was very satisfied with everything that I ordered. I planned on wearing my favorite on tonight for Ney and surprise him. He's isn't aware of this, that's why I'm not sharing the photos with him yet. As I was selecting the best photos on my phone, suddenly, I get a text message for Neymar.

"Bebê I just got done with training and I'm going to take a shower . I knew I would be late so I brought my outfit for Thiago's dinner with me. Is it okay if we both drive there separately? If I stop by to pick you up we will be suupppeer late. Love you lots, see ya there xx"

Oh, crap. I forgot about that AT ALL. Now, I became very pissed about ruining my plans. I know it's not Neymar's fault at all, however, I decided to not ruin my good mood and hopped in the shower to get ready for tonight. Before I did that, I responded to his text. "Sure thing, meu amor. I will text you once I get there."

After I did my hair and makeup, I decided to wear one of the lingerie sets under my dress. I wore my favorite dark blue ones. After going through my closet and cringing at everything I picked, I decided to wear a black tight dress that really hugged my curves. I get my purse, lock all the doors and get in the car.

I arrived at Thiago's dinner party before Neymar. I texted him, letting him know I'm here and he responded with "I will be there in 5 minutes amor".

I was engaging in conversations with different people at the party and suddenly I feel an arm around my waist from behind. I didn't bother to look at who it was, I just reached my hand to cup his cheek, I knew it was Neymar. Neymar's POV: I arrive at the party and I immediately spot my girlfriend at the kitchen counter talking to Thiago's friends. I go behind her and wrap and arm around her waist. She touches my face and I turn her around to kiss her. She was wearing my favorite dress of hers.

"Hi, there miss! I can see you're here alone. May I join you?" I ask her playfully with a smile.

"Hmm, yeah sure! My boyfriend was supposed to be here, but he isn't coming I guess." she responds, making a playful face.

"Is that soo?!" I raise an eyebrow and kiss her soft lips. She laughs. I love her laugh.

We make our way to the living room, where everyone is sitting there sipping wine and chatting. Y/N and I sit next to each other on the couch. After a couple minutes, Y/N offers help to the people in the kitchen and leaves.

After she does so, I get a text on my phone which I decide to ignore at first. The phone buzzes again. I get it out of my pocket to check it out. Wrong move! I should've done that somewhere in privacy. It was Y/N.

"Too bad you were late today, bebê. You missed the show :(" and sent this photo .

Oh my god. What is the doing to me? She looks extremely hot. I had a feeling I would regret being late today.

"Amoooor, what are u doing? Don't do this to me, pleaseee. You look super sexy" I respond to her text, hoping that was it. I mean, we just got here. I can't get worked up 3 hours BEFORE we get home.

"Ohh! Are you sure you don't want any more" she texts back and send this photo.

"YY/NNNN you'reee killing mee, amorrr. Everyone is looking at me confused. I text her back and I excuse myself to the balcony for a "phone call".

"Is that so?! Do you want to know what I'm wearing underneath this black dress? ;)" she texts back immediately and sends photo.

Oh my god. Fuck me! I get this rush of emotions to just storm in the kitchen and bend her over the kitchen island in front of everyone.

"Do you have any idea what I will do to you tonight?!" I text her back, maybe this will make her wait.

"Hmm, can you give me a hint?" she text back. Oh, she really is determined to make me go crazy.

"As soon as you step inside the house, I will rip that pretty little black dress of yours from your body and throw you on the bed on your knees, and fuck your brains out from behind as you moan my name" I text her back. I hoped to get her worked up, however, I did that to MYSELF just thinking about it.

"Uuuu, that sounds hot. Would you rather have me wear that lingerie or this one?" she texts back and send THIS photo.

That's it. I can't take it anymore. I get back to the living room with a "worried" look on my face. I tell Thiago that Y/N and I will unfortunately have to leave right now because of an emergency. Thiago doesn't ask any follow up questions, trying to be understandable. I didn't even feel about about lying, my mind that somewhere else completely. I go to the kitchen and tell Y/N we have to leave because of an emergency. She plays along and says goodbye to everyone. Thiago walks us to the door and hugs us goodbye. As soon as he shuts the door, I give Y/N a look filled with lust. She looks back and me and smiles. "I'll meet you at home, I guess" she says and makes her way to her car. "FUUCKKK! I forgot about it" I groan and make my way to my car quickly not wanting to waste any time. I completely forgot we came here separately. She arrives before me and parks her car in the driveway. I quickly do the same and catch up to her entering the house. I shut the door really fast and turn around to lift her up in my arms.

"You dirty little thing! You had fun with that, didn't you?" I ask her and I felt myself grow in my jeans. "Now, it's my turn to have my fun!" "No one's complaining about it!" she says back and bites my lip. I will do everything I told her I will, more for sure.

[cavalierious-whim]

Socially Awkward, Chapter Two (Wriolette)

Neuvillette made the first move, Wriothesely responds, and now it's Game, Set, Match.

'Socially Awkward'

Part 2 of 11

modern au

old dude cliche rom-com

Be sure to check out some of the amazing doodles that 18Tea81 drew, inspired by this fic!

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

--

Wriothesley wakes up to a full range of direct messages from the ThirstTrap app. 

>> When will you finally show off that dick? (Never).

>> Baby, let me buy you some lingerie. (There’s a CELESTIA wishlist for that).

>> If you’d just give me your address— (Blooooooock).

One message, though, catches his eye. The words are innocent enough. The username is familiar—a frequent subscriber but quiet in the chat. Wriothesley sees their name in every stream but aside from offering up more than decent tips, all they do is lurk. It’s nice. Wriothesley likes that. This DM has the same sort of feel to it, the words swathed in politeness. 

[LeviathanJudicator] >> I see that you like men in suits. Our tastes seem to align. I think that you may like my account in particular. Enjoy.

Wriothesley is still embarrassed that he let that slip. He’d kicked himself later in bed, dragging a hand down his face with a soft curse. There was a line that had to be drawn, carefully drafted rules that he and Clorinde agreed upon. He’ll flaunt himself and read smut aloud, but The Duke is a facade. He is not and never will be the real Wriothesley. The admittance of his preferences… 

Well, Clorinde will kill him. 

Later, though. His thumb hovers over the link that his follower has sent him. “He’s probably a creep,” says Wriothesley. A reasonable assumption. That’s how these sorts of things usually go. “It’s probably an unsolicited nude.”

It’s a proper Kameragram link, though, and that’s what makes him take the chance and click into it. 

Oh. Oh, this is…

Wriothesley covers his mouth, thumbing at his scruff. “Well, I’ll be,” he mutters, swiping through LeviathanJudicator’s Kameragram feed. It’s exactly what he likes, what he fantasizes about. A tall, lean man in the nicest suits that Wriothesley has ever seen. Perfectly cut and tailored. Barely an inch of wrist or neck on display. There’s even color coordination, and silk ties that likely cost an entire month’s salary for Wriothesley. 

This patron has always tipped well but this is—Wriothesley whistles, impressed. 

“I think you may like my account,” he muses. Those words are a gentle tease. Wriothesley is more than interested, he spends nearly an hour lounging in bed, simping over each picture. He commits them to memory, eyes tracing those perfect, sharp angles. The jut of the man’s wrist. The occasional fringe of hair gracing the length of his jaw, just barely seen. Long, deft fingers, perfectly hidden by leather gloves. And then another, this one with his fingers bare, nails clean-cut and perfectly square. 

“Fuck,” curses Wriothesley, trying and failing to will his boner away. It’s too early in the morning for this. Wriothesley isn’t a teenager, he’s nearly forty, and shouldn’t be sporting spontaneous hard-ons. “Sigewinne,” he thinks. “Clorinde. Clorinde’s gun. That one summer that Clorinde shot me in the thigh. It was intentional, no matter what she still says. She doesn’t fucking miss. Her aim is perfect.”

Wriothesley heaves a ragged sigh as nothing seems to work. Smitten. He’s smitten, and it’s going to make the rest of his day an absolute slog. He’s going to be punching at a bag and thinking of slim hips and the slope of those perfect shoulders if he doesn’t tug one out and even the playing field.

This isn’t new. He’s… indulged upon the rare decent dick pic he’s sent (always seen and never replied to; too messy, too much, but he can look, right? Yeah, that’s okay).

He grinds his palm against his tented sleep trousers, groaning softly. Then he pulls at the waistband, tugging them down just enough to free his cock. A quickie. That’s all he needs and then he’ll be right as rain for the rest of the day. He thinks. The logistics don’t matter right now, his aching dick does. 

Wriothesley's fingers are almost too calloused, catching against his skin just enough to make him hiss. “Shit, where’s the—” On the bedside table where it always is. The half-used bottle of lube is a best friend nowadays, and Wriothesley reaches over blindly. One quick squeeze of it onto his cock has him grunting. Should’ve warmed it up, should’ve thought about that, but he didn’t, and all it takes is one slick stroke of his length to leave him boneless in the bed. 

He only needs one hand. His phone rests against his free palm. Wriothesley scrolls through those pictures again. Those broad shoulders. That line of the man’s throat. The tapered, handsomely tailored waist of a crisp, navy-blue suit. Wriothesley doesn’t even like the color navy, but he adores it on this man. 

He’d be weak in the knees if he were standing. His back arches as he fucks into the tight grip of his hand. The wet squelch of the lube fills the room as he pulls over his cock hard and fast. Heat curls, spreading like wildfire in his veins. Wriothesley stares at the pictures, at the mostly-clothed man that will no doubt haunt his dreams. 

Everything is to the imagination. The pale skin, the silky, soft hair that brushes against his shoulders. Those fingers, long and reedy. Thin, finely boned knuckles, with a wrist bone sharp enough to cut a diamond. Wriothesley moans, his head tipping back as he imagines those fingers around his cock instead, stroking him to completion. 

Wriothesley comes embarrassingly quick, soiling his stomach, and the hemline of his sleeping shirt with come. He jerks, shuddering through his release, and still, he stares at those pictures, licking his lips, thinking, imagining, groaning at the thought of seeing just a smidge more. 

What lies underneath that suit? Gods, this is what he loves about these sorts of pictures. 

His orgasm is abrupt but satisfying. He lets loose a sigh, pleasure wracking through him, sloughing away the tension brought on by a mostly clothed man showing off his fine fits. And then a little bit of dread, a little bit of remorse as he groans against his palm. Who does that? 

Wriothesley apparently, and that’s even more embarrassing his snafu on stream last night when he got a little too close and personal. 

He looks at the clock and winces; half-past ten. “Shit,” he hisses, shooting out of bed. There’s enough time for a three-minute shower and to toss on some clean clothes. He doesn’t have a set schedule but he still should’ve been at the gym earlier than this.

Wriothesley wastes another ten minutes in the shower when his mind drifts off, thinking about pocket squares and coordinating colors. It’s hard to ignore the way his cock twitches, half-hard against his thigh. He’s too old for this sort of distraction. 

Clorinde is definitely going to kill him. 

#

Neuvillette is not a man who makes mistakes. 

Last night he made more than several. He winces at the sunlight that filters in through the slit of the window curtains. It falls just perfectly across his face, taunting him, reminding him that there’s work to do. A day off is never a day off; it’s just a day away from active trials. Neuvillette will still find himself in the office, pouring over paperwork, and eating cold takeout that Navia has to force down his throat. 

His head pounds. He feels sick, rolling over in the bed, and pulling the sheets around his head. No, that’s worse. Moving is worse, and his stomach tilts in the opposite direction as the rest of him, making him feel adrift in the sheets.  

The wine. The stream. The string of bad decisions that led to—

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no.

Neuvillette scrabbles around and finds his phone stashed underneath a spare pillow. He unlocks it and pulls open the Thirstrap App and sees his crime. A DM. He sent his link to The Duke. Gods, that’s embarrassing. May the waters of Fontaine swell and swallow him right up. 

And worst of all there is no response. Not even a polite thank you, just a read receipt that shows The Duke saw the message. 

Neuvillette pinches the bridge of his nose. The pounding ache in his head is not worth this. To be left on read… Neuvillette may not understand all the intricacies of friendships but even he understands that is considered to be a negative thing. Ah. But he isn’t a friend, and this is a parasocial acquaintance at best. Neuvillette is now sober and knows better than whatever his alcohol-addled brain was fantasizing about. 

That too—his face burns beet red as he remembers just how he touched himself to the thought of the Duke during his stream. Usually, he has the decency to at least do it with the stream off. Just his hands and thoughts, not… Well. Not that. 

No more wine. Never again. Only cool, crisp water, and a nice consommé. And maybe his hand. Wait, no.

“Work,” mutters Neuvillette, peeling back the covers. At least he had the decency to shower off before slipping into bed. Everything beyond his embarrassment is hazy. The sheets are a mess, but those can be changed later. He’s decent enough that he’ll be able to get away with just washing his face and teeth. 

It takes longer than he’s used to, still dealing with the sealegs of a terrible hangover. His head pounds enough to actually take medicine, something that he rarely resorts to. It isn’t so much that he toughs it out, just that he rarely is in such a way. Neuvillette is hardy and healthy, and any pains he sports come from sitting at his desk for too long, or those occasional sleepless nights when pouring over particularly difficult cases. 

Today, he chooses to dress down. Just a pair of trousers and a nice cotton shirt. He’s too tired to do himself up properly. He doesn’t even brush his hair, just combs his fingers through the mess of it. The idea of a stiff, chafing collar makes him queasy, so for the day, he’ll suffer through the thought of being without his proper aesthetic. Besides, he’ll be working from home, not the Opera Epiclese, so there isn’t a reason to force himself to suffer. 

He hears the front door slam shut just as he leaves the bedroom and stills.

Wait. There is one reason to worry, and it just walked into his home. He’d forgotten that Navia was planning on helping him prep his cases for the coming week. Neuvillette curses softly under his breath, about to retreat into his room to at least put a sweater on.

He isn’t quick enough. Navia reaches the hallway of his townhome before he can move, and she stills at the sight of him. Her gaze starts at his face and drops to his feet before lifting again. It’s slow and the glance is long enough for Neuvillette to hear her thoughts grinding together, processing. 

“My,” she says, brows raised high to her hairline. “You look… out of sorts, don’t you? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine.” Neuvillette is not fine, nor does he sound fine. But he doesn’t sound sick, he just sounds spent and tired. 

Navia knows him better than he knows himself though, and she gives him a shrewd look. “You were up late,” she says then. 

“I had a bit of wine.”

“You—what? Monsieur Neuvillette, you don’t drink.”

“I did last night,” he says ruefully. “And I’m certainly paying for it now.”

Navia clicks her tongue as she sweeps forward. “I think the last time that I saw you this dressed down was when you had the flu a decade ago—and that was because the nurse made you take off the suit.”

“Please do not remind me.”

Her mouth quirks into an affectionate smile. “Alright, old man. Let’s at least get some breakfast into you.” Neuvillette must look positively ill at the thought of it because her brow wrinkles. “Are you hungover?”

Neuvillette doesn’t want to lie so he just doesn’t answer. Navia’s expression shifts into something of a shock. “I see,” she continues. “I—well. Okay. First time for everything. Still, you should drink some water. And I know you’re probably nauseous, but food will help.”

He doubts it but lets Navia lead him down the corridor. “I’ve been hungover before,” he tells her. 

“When was that?”

Decades ago, but she doesn’t need to know the particulars. Besides, the sensation is the same be it now, or when he was in his early twenties. The roiling in his stomach is nothing unexpected. He sits in the chair like a good boy, though, and lets Navia fuss over him.

“Really, Monsieur Neuvillette.” It’s light-hearted and humorous as she digs around in the kitchen cabinets. “What could have possibly driven you to drink so much?” She pauses and looks at him over her shoulder. “An entire bottle of wine?” she guesses.

“Nearly. I do think there’s a little left on the nightstand.”

Navia hums softly. “Hot cereal then. Ah, don’t give me that look. It’ll be good for you and it’ll settle your stomach. You can grouse about it later.”

Neuvillette reminds himself to do just that because his preference would be soup, but Navia knows best. Or so she claims. He’s too tired to up much of a fight with her. Thankfully, she doesn’t needle him further, she just flits about his kitchen, the stove flaring to life with the click of the Electro starter. The scratch of kitchen utensils and the clinking of porcelain bowls set his teeth on edge, but Neuvillette does his best to tune it out. 

“Here,” she says softly, placing a bowl before him. “It’s plain, I promise. No milk, no sugar, no nothing.”

“Small blessings,” comes Neuvillette’s dry response, but he’s polite enough to tilt his head in thanks. 

“So—” Navia falls into the chair opposite him, helping herself to her own bowl of hot cereal. “—what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Neuvillette,” she says, dropping the title. Just like that she isn’t his paralegal, she’s his friend, and she’s understandably worried. Neuvillette not only doesn’t drink, he wouldn’t imbibe to the point of drunkenness. He’s dressed too casually. He slept in—and even if she didn’t comment on it, he knows that she knows. Red flags all around.

“I…” It would be better to tell her, not just because Navia will eventually find out anyhow, but because she can also help him. Maybe. Perhaps. Wait, why is he entertaining the thought of more? No, this is bad. And yet. “That streamer that I like,” he then says. 

Navia’s expression turns coy. “Oh? Mr. Dark, thick, and broody?”

“I—never say that again, please. As you know he frequently streams on Friday nights. Last night he—”

“Did you pay for a private show?”

“No!” Gods, this is a thousand times worse than he expected it to be. And it isn’t as if he’s never explained similar things in excruciating detail. Neuvillette is known to ramble on about mildly inappropriate things but it is because Navia is his oldest, dearest friend, and she doesn’t mind. She manages his personal accounts; when she’d first seen the subscription fee, she just asked if the streamer was cute. 

He clears his throat. “He doesn’t… do that. Er, that sort of private show, at least. It was his usual fair. Reading aloud a rather explicit book.”

“And what, this one did it for you?” Neuvillette says nothing, only drags his spoon through his cereal, and refuses to look her in the face. “Oh,” murmurs Navia, utterly delighted. “Oh, this is rich. Did you enjoy yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette?”

He thinks about throwing himself into the sea to save embarrassment. Instead, he says, “That isn’t what matters, Miss Navia. What does is what I did afterward—”

“Afterward?”

Oh, this is like pulling teeth. But it’s better to just yank it right out, isn’t it? The pain would cut through him, sharp and sudden, but it would dull quickly at the sound of Navia’s laughter. Because she will laugh. She will laugh loud and long, and then she will pity him. 

“I sent him a direct message.” Navia’s eyes go round like saucers and her mouth falls open. “So rarely is The Duke personal, but last night he shared his appreciation of finely suited men, and so I, in all my inebriated grace, sent the link of my Kameragram to him. I didn’t expect for him to answer, of course, but to be left on read is… strangely hurtful.” 

Neuvilette feels less guilty about unloading personal problems on her when he remembers that he pays Navia a salary and not by the hour. 

Navia snorts softly, hiding a grin behind her palm. “Give me your phone. I know you have it on you, so I want to see just what you sent him.”

He should not. He knows better. But Navia has her ways so Neuvillette opens his phone and app, swiping over to the message, and hands it over without much fight. It’s a better option than finding her rifling through his desk drawers later. 

She hums softly, contemplative. “So, not the worst message,” she says. “Certainly better than I expected, but—”

“But.” Neuvillette groans, hiding his face against his palms. “So it is terrible then.”

“I just said it wasn’t but you didn’t let me finish.” Navia laughs softly, amusement curling her words. “It’s just… very formal.”

Neuvillette peels his face away from his hands. “Did you expect me to not be so?”

“Well, no, but that isn’t the point. When flirting—”

“I am not flirting.”

Navia levels him with a look that could sour milk. “You sent him your Kameragram account as a thirst trap.”

“An ill-devised decision brought upon by overindulgence in alcohol—”

“Because you wanted him to notice. Flirting.” Navia’s expression softens. “I know that you are not particularly good at this sort of thing but this isn’t too hard to fix.”

“Fix?” Oh, that doesn’t bode well. “Navia, I have no intention of fixing anything.”

“Why not?” 

The question sounds so simple when she asks it. Why ever not? Neuvillette is not unhandsome, he knows, and he is confident enough to think that his sense of fashion might fit The Duke’s type. But there is one glaring issue—

“I don’t date, as you know. And he is… I am, effectively, a client. Isn’t that considered taboo?”

Navia places his phone back on the table and rests her chin against her knuckles. “I mean, maybe? Are there rules? You haven’t overstepped a boundary—he could have turned his DMs off. And until he says that he isn’t interested…” She waves vaguely.

This is a mess. Neuvillette feels no better now than he did when he woke up, and he decides to drown his morose thoughts in the hot cereal that Navia has kindly prepared for him. It’s cooled enough to not burn his tongue but she still eats it too fast.

She watches, head tilted, eyes narrowly slit, and that mouth of hers pulled up at one side. He hates that look. 

Eventually, she says, “I’m proud of you, you know. You put yourself out there. You never do that and even if this…” Her eyes flicker back to the phone. “Even if I would have been a little more casual about it, you still did it. Good job.”

Neuvillette’s face burns pink at her praise. “Miss Navia—”

“Oh, so it’s Miss, again.”

It takes a lot of effort to resist rolling his eyes at her. “Navia, I’ve been left on read, as you younger folk like to say.”

Navia looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s six-thirty in the morning. Most people are still dreaming this early. I think that this may be a sign to throw yourself back out into the dating pool.”

“I wish that I carried that same optimism,” says Neuvillette dryly. 

“Well, he hasn’t said no, yet. Or blocked you—”

“Blocked me?”

She snickers, going back to her bowl of food. “The point is that he hasn’t turned you down which means there’s still a chance. And if he’s into handsome guys in suits, like you said he is, well… I don’t think there’s any better option out there.”

“Navia, I…” Neuvillette clears his throat. “It would be unkind of me to not express my thanks to you, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up, you old fish. You know you’re handsome. The expensive suits only enhance what’s already there.”

This, thinks Neuvillette, is why they get along so well. Navia has worked for him for over a decade. She sees reason where he doesn’t and isn’t one to hold back her punches, be it good or bad. This time, she’s in his wheelhouse, which is nice. 

“So,” she continues, her expression turning sly. “I guess the burning question is—what next?”

Neuvillette takes it back. Navia will certainly make this worse. And yet, when she reaches for his phone a second time, Neuvillette does nothing to stop her.

#

“It’s rare for you to want to be here in person.”

Clorinde barely looks up from her laptop. “It’s because you’re a moron. Someone has to keep you in check.”

Wriothesley winces at her harsh words. He pointedly ignores her, messing around with his set, making a point to push around the pillows and blankets. She’s quiet long enough for him to look. Clorinde watches him back, her mouth pursed. 

“Okay, so look—”

“The rules, Wriothesley,” she cuts in. “Repeat them for me.” 

Clorinde is calculated and careful in comparison to him. And no, Wriothesley doesn’t trust others—as mid-life crisis his decision to stream was, he isn’t stupid. But Clorinde has always been to anchor his whiplash tendencies. The rules are meant for safety even if Wriothesley has no intent of stepping past them. 

“Rule one,” he recites with a mock salute, “no real names.”

Hence The Duke. Clorinde had teased him about it for weeks but Wriothesley finds it preferable to Daddy. He shudders at the thought. 

“And two?”

He grimaces. “No personal details.” Clorinde raises one mocking eyebrow and waits for an explanation. “Look, I was tired, and it was harmless.”

“Someone sent you their Kameragram account. A follower.”

“So people can send me dick pics and that’s okay, but—”

“Dick pics get you tips, don’t they? It’s not as if you haven’t jacked off to those either, by the way.”

Right. Wriothesley drags a hand down his face, unwilling to be reminded of that. It’s pathetic, but some of his followers have nice dicks, and he has eyes and a lonely cock, and well— 

“Not the point,” he hisses, peeking at her through his fingers.

“You know, rule number two is for you, not them,” drawls Clorinde. 

Right, right. Wriothesley can’t afford to get attached. He knows it, she knows it, and he never crosses any lines aside from whacking one out to a decent dick pic on occasion. An opening—that’s what she called it earlier. He’s given his weirder, crasser followers an opening to his real tastes. 

Wriothesley clears his throat. “He was polite, at least. In a way that others are never. Fully clothed too.”

“And that does it for you?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” she says tartly. “I can tell, you know. You’ve had this glow about you all week—”

“Clorinde.”

She’s teasing him, of course, but the sting of it still burns like the embarrassment that pricks the back of his neck. 

“That begs the question though, what is different about this man?”

Clorinde’s question catches him off guard. “What?”

She’s busy setting up her end of the stream for moderation and still doesn’t look away, her fingers flying over the keys of her laptop. “For all my joking about your appreciation for the good dick pics, you never actually like… respond. But this guy has you thinking about him.”

He does not, and that’s what he tells her, but the moment that the words leave his mouth, Wriothesley is already thinking about the crisp edges of those handsome suit lapels, and how his shirt sleeves have a proper fit, just barely peeking out from underneath the jacket cuff.

“That’s the look that I’m talking about, by the way,” says Clorinde, gesturing at his face unhelpfully. 

“I won’t message him back,” he promises. Clorinde shoots him a critical look that shows she doesn���t believe him. Which she shouldn’t. Wriothesley has waffled back and forth on just how polite he should be when he gives his sincere thanks. Casual? Clipped? Friendly? No, no, he shouldn’t encourage the man.

Wriothesley fiddles with a couch pillow for the umpteenth time. “So, another idea,” he says. “I thank him, at least, but I do it on stream.”

“That might be worse. Do you want to encourage others?”

No, but it’d be no different than the multitude of messages that Wriothesley deletes every time. He shrugs. “He puts effort into what he does. And, besides, he was so… polite. He’s a regular but he’s never spoken in the chat, and I think that he may have been nervous?”

Clorinde’s returning expression is flat. “I think that you might be projecting your own insecurities onto—”

“Okay, enough of that. It’s nearly time to go live and I still need to get dressed.”

She’s always been good at reading the room. Her mouth snaps shut but she’s amused, her mouth pulled into a smile as she watches him flounder about. “Is it another jockstrap tonight? I just need to know whether or not to blind myself with the bleach first or—”

“I’m not holding you here at gunpoint.”

“Right, because I’m the one with the guns.”

“Oh, speaking off, hasn’t the date for the Teyvat Games been set? When are the preliminaries?”

Clorinde shoots him a rude gesture because she hates it when he changes the subject abruptly. “Didn’t you need to get changed? At least close the damn bedroom door.”

Wriothesley does not, knowing there isn’t a reason to, nor does she care. Clorinde has about as much interest in his looks as she does anything aside from marksmanship, which is none. 

“To answer your question, by the way, I thought I’d return the favor. Something a little different for the stream tonight. Remember when I bought that suit for Sigewinne’s med school graduation?” 

There is a moment of contemplative thought before Clorinde asks, “Does that even still fit?”

No. Not entirely. But that’s the point. Wriothesley wears a tight V-neck T-shirt and throws that old, dusty suit jacket atop. The charcoal gray is a nice color on him, and whilst most might try to hide them, Wriothesley thinks that it makes the silvers in his dark hair pop, glittering as they catch the ring lights on his set. 

Clorinde’s head pops in around the frame of his bedroom door. She gives him a once-over and frowns. 

Wriothesley frowns too, looking at himself, dragging a hand down his front. “Is it that bad?”

“What? No. I hate it, which means they’ll love it.”

Oh, Clorinde. Wriothesley shoots her a grin. “So, the plan for tonight—I bought the sequel to the book you gave me last time.” She snorts, leaning against the door frame. Clorinde had admitted that she’d meant it as a joke and that she’d laughed so hard at his dramatic reading of dragon egg-preg smut that she nearly vomited. From anyone else that would be an insult, but Clorinde is typically so serious that he would’ve paid money to be a fly on that wall.

So, now that she’s here….

“That’s unfair,” she tells him. “I won’t be able to keep quiet in the background.”

“Then you better practice.” Wriothesley pulls his signature red tie around his neck, knotting it so that it lays loosely against his collarbone. “Because if I have to suffer through this again, you’re coming with me.”

Clorinde grunts. 

“Anyway, I’m not planning on stripping down much tonight. Just a nice, relaxed stream. Maybe the jacket comes off, maybe the shirt—but I’ll keep the trousers on for your sake.”

“How considerate of you,” deadpans Clorinde. Then, she looks at her watch and clicks her tongue. “You’ve got about five minutes. Your chat’s already popping.”

“Right, right.”

Clorinde then gives him a half-lidded smirk. “What’re you going to do if he’s in your chat tonight?”

He will be. LeviathanJudicator is a long-time, loyal follower of his. Even if he’s quiet, he’s a familiar screen name, and he tips well and frequently. Wriothesley looks in the mirror and ruffles his hair, tousling just so. “I already told you—I’ll thank him.”

Clorinde doesn’t need to know that Wriothesley has another plan. She can kill him later.

#

The reading is a resounding success. Wriothesley doesn’t pretend to know anything about Farewell My Beloved Archon, but what he’s gleaned from just these two books is that there is a very large audience for monster fucking, weird biology, and… eggs. 

Wriothesley doesn’t care as long as it brings in the tips, and oh, are the tips rolling in. Clorinde is red-faced where she sits at the kitchen table, wheezing from having to hold back her laughter. Wriothesley had to apologize several times, explaining that his chat mod was there in person tonight, something that he’s going to hold over her head for the foreseeable future. 

Still. It’s led to questions. Usually, he’s annoyed by this, but it’s the perfect opening for Wriothesley's last hurrah for the night. 

He squints at the screen. “Ah. RexIncognito wants to know if my moderator is a girlfriend,” he reads aloud.

Clorinde squawks in the background, a terribly unflattering noise that makes Wriothesley break his sultry character and laugh. “No, no, she’s merely an old friend. And a lesbian. Besides, I told you all what I like in a partner last week, didn’t I? Tall, handsome men in suits.”

He shoots Clorinde a look and sees that she’s watching him from over her laptop with a shrewd expression. 

“Which reminds me, I feel the need to give thanks to a follower. I’m not going to call them out, but someone sent me a very nice Kameragram account—you know who you are. I know that I don’t typically get personal here but I have to admit… It was certainly appreciated. Several times.”

Oh, the look that Clorinde is giving him is foul. But that’s an issue for later. Wriothesley clears his throat and continues. 

“Anyway, remember how we ran a poll a while back about lingerie? It’s an old meme, but the virgin killer sweater—” His chat goes wild at the mere mention of it and Wriothesley chuckles. “Yes, yes, I didn’t forget. It was the second-place option, so I never prioritized it but in light of recent… indulgences I find myself reconsidering. So, here’s the deal—if say… a certain person were to show off what he’s hiding underneath those crisp suits and perfect cufflinks, I’ll return the favor. I’m not asking for a lot. Seriously, just a slip of skin, a tease of a collarbone.”

Wriothesley shifts, his suit jacket parting to show off his toned chest. The shirt had come off during the stream, but the jacket was slipped back on by popular demand. “I’ll take anything, actually. If my wish were granted, then I’ll wear the damn sweater, live.”

The chat shoots off and tips roll in. Followers beg for him to just treat them to the sweater, and Wriothesley will—all of this is mostly a tease. Clorinde curses softly as she loses control of the text scroll and shoots him a dirty look.

“That’s just some food for thought,” chirps Wriothesley then, giving everyone one last pose for the night. “Until the next—au revoir!”

The stream cuts and Wriothesley heaves a sigh, sagging against the couch. “Gods, it’s hot in here,” he mutters. He stands, already shrugging the jacket off, wiping at the sweat beading on his brow with a forearm. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

“You’re a moron,” she calls him for a second time that night. “But I snooped on his account too, and I don’t blame you.”

“Ah, so you see my vision then.”

“And the sweater?”

“I ordered it weeks ago. I’d be treating them to it anyhow, but what’s the harm in a little fun?”

Clorinde’s face does something strange then; it softens, and she looks at him—really looks at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You… like like this guy.”

“You saw him. He’s easy on the eyes. His body at least.” He shrugs. 

“What if he’s horrifically ugly?”

“Then he’d find a great match in me, wouldn’t he?” The joke lands perfectly and Clorinde snickers. “Look, it’s just… fun. I can’t remember the last time someone flirted with me, so… lemme flirt back a little.”

“Only a little,” agrees Clorinde, snapping her laptop shut. “The rules—”

“Are for my own good. I know.”

She sighs, stretching her arms above her head until her joints pop. “Well, if that’s all, I’m going to take my leave. I’ve got to cleanse my ears after listening to… that.”

“You picked the damn book.”

“Yes, well, that was a mistake, wasn’t it?” Clorinde stands and gives him a soft, genuine smile. “Get some rest. Stop jerking off to weirdos on the internet.”

“He isn’t a weirdo!” 

At least Wriothesley doesn’t think the man would be, but then the rational side of his brain kicks in and reminds him that the clean-cut guys are always the weird, fucked up, and kinky ones. 

Still. 

He could fantasize about worse.

#

It has been the work week from hell for Neuvillette, and not just because his boss dumped three extra caseloads on his desk.

“How’s sleep treating you?” 

Sleep isn’t treating him, but Navia knows that. She always knows whatever it is, even when Neuvillette is hiding the things that are bothering him. She’s whip-smart. Sharp like a tack. A go-getter and great at reading people, and the only reason that his finances make a modicum of sense because he is gullible and prone to scams and sales. 

Neuvillette both loves and hates this because Navia is the one person who sees right through his aloof facade. 

“I napped at least,” he says.

“Ah yes, I did notice the blanket on the couch.” Navia holds out a decanter of crisp, clear water and Neuvillette takes it with a quiet thank you. “But that isn’t what I’m asking.”

“Miss Navia, we are at work—”

“And it’s bothering you. Still no reply?”

The Duke did not message him back. He did something worse, something that made Neuvillette gape at the screen as he watched the stream the night prior. He rubs his face, grimacing against his palm, which catches Navia’s attention. 

She pauses, head tilted to the side. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that is not the look of a man who is wallowing about in his self-pity.”

“Last night, on his stream, he—”

Oh, he doesn’t like that sharpness of her eyes as her mouth curls into a smirk. “Do go on,” she says, dropping to the chair opposite him.

‘I feel the need to give thanks to a follower.’

Neuvillette can still hear it now, the way The Duke had thanked him personally for sending him his Kameragram account. 

“He may have mentioned that he pursued my account. He appreciated it.”

‘Several times.’

He leaves that part out. It’s bad enough that Navia knows too much about this entire ordeal, to begin with, but the knowledge that The Duke… Well, he didn’t so much as confirm it but Neuvillette wasn’t born yesterday. The implication is clear and they apparently share a mutual interest that has resulted in their hands around their dicks. To the thought of each other. 

Gods, how embarrassing.

Neuvillette clears his throat. “He expressed his wish to see more.”

Navia’s mouth falls open. “I—so he did message you?”

“No, regrettably. But as I said, on the stream—”

“He mentioned it on the stream?” She hisses this, her voice a sharp whisper. 

“Miss Navia,” he gently chastises her. “Though we’re in my office, there are others around, and that door is not as thick as you would presume it to be.”

She winces. “Sorry, I just. Neuvillette.”

“I do think it was for show, to be honest. A tease—he does that, you know. His stream is nothing but teasing the lot of us. But I do think that his appreciation for my account was sincere at least.”

“And so?” she prompts, waiting for more. 

“And so what?”

“What’d he ask for, you idiot?”

Neuvillette purses his lips and reminds himself to not reprimand her for talking to him as such. This isn’t about work. This isn’t his paralegal talking, this is his friend. Navia is one part concerned, one part dying for more information, and all parts way too involved. 

“Not that he wouldn’t already be giving this to his viewership, I assure you. But…” He gives her an amused look, his mouth just barely quirked into a smile. “If you must know, he offered up stripping off more than he usually does in exchange for seeing my collarbones.”

The skin between Navia’s brow creases slightly. “Specifically… that?” It doesn’t take a genius to see that, perhaps, it’s a strange request. Neuvillette is slow on the uptake but he thinks it’s rather innocent. The Duke could have asked for more, implied something particularly indecent. 

“It was the example that he gave, yes. His exact words were, and I quote: ‘I’m not asking for a lot. Seriously, just a slip of skin, a tease of a collarbone.’”

“He sets the bar low, doesn’t he?”

Neuvillette snorts, offended. “I’ll have you know that my production value is of the highest standard. I spend a lot of time planning my ensembles and just how to shoot…” He frowns. “You’re teasing me.”

“The both of you, really. Is this man just as socially awkward as you? Is it because he’s older too? Are you all like this?” It’s not as if Navia is young herself; but Neuvillette supposes that thirty is enough of a difference for there to be a considerable gap in their experiences.

“Manners, Miss Navia. Please.”

“Manners my ass. This guy is smitten—”

“At the sight of my suits.”

“Are you going to give him a little bit of collarbone?” Navia’s question is genuine and rather innocent, but it burns a hole in Neuvillette’s gut all the same. 

“I… shouldn’t,” is his soft and stilted response. 

Navia, though, doesn’t take the bait. She just gives him a wide, wicked grin, and says, “That isn’t a no.”

It is not. And when they take a break later, and Neuvillette enlists her help in taking a picture that captures the perfect angle and jut of his collarbone, the topmost buttons of his shirt collar undone, she has the decency to not tease him too much. 

“The lighting is good,” she says. “I wouldn’t have thought… Well, you clearly have a good eye.”

“Of course, I do,” sniffs Neuvillette. He feels naked like this, even though so little is shown. He enjoys the press of his collar stays against the underside of his jaw. The air is cool against his clavicle, even with the afternoon sunlight filtering in from the window. 

Navia snaps a few pictures from several angles and they pour over them to select the best one. 

“So,” she says, watching Neuvillette crop out his face, leaving just the bottom edge of his jawline in the frame. “Does this mean you’re officially flirting?”

“It means that I, in a moment of weakness, am being coy.”

“Because you’re looking forward to seeing him in whatever he bribed you with.”

No. Yes. Maybe. Navia doesn’t need the full details of it—even Neuvillette didn’t know what a virgin killer sweater was until a quick Vision search. He was enlightened. And now the idea of The Duke swatched in a small patch of knitted material, the swell of his ass barely covered, jutted out—

“I think that I lost you for a second there,” says Navia, cutting into his thoughts.

“It is because I enjoy the attention.” Which is true enough for Navia to question it no further.

“I’m proud of you, again,” she says. “Even if this is a rather unconventional method of flirting.”

“We are not flirting.”

Are they? Neuvillette certainly isn’t an expert. The last time someone bought him a drink at a bar he’d promptly paid them back, thinking it was a mistake. 

Still, he doesn’t like the look on Navia’s face. “Yet,” she says, tapping her chin.

Neuvillette doesn’t warrant that with a response, he just tilts his phone toward her to show off the final edit of the last-minute photo. Not his best work. It lacks his usual professionalism because it was taken with his phone and he’s in his work clothes, not something curated specifically for his Kameragram, but it is serviceable. 

Navia nods. “Handsome. I’m glad you’re taking the bait. You deserve some action.”

“I will not get any action.”

But there’s a hope, a spark in his gut. He likes the heat that lingers there, and the way his cock twitches at the thought of her being right. 

“Not a regular post,” he says to her, pulling open his Kameragram. “A twenty-four-hour story, the type that self-deletes.” It’ll only be seen if The Duke is actively stalking his page. Neuvillette ignores the flutter in his stomach and the hope that bleeds into his veins. 

Before he loses his nerve, he queues up the post and hits send. The picture posts, waiting, lurking on his account. His collarbone is on display, pale against his shirt collar. A strip of his sternum peeks out from where the top three buttons are undone, framed by the crisp, pressed lapels of his suit jacket. 

The scandalous display comes with two taunting words as its caption: Your turn.

--

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[ranveer--singh]

The nights are tasteless without you: part 11 ~ Ari Levinson Fic

A/N - This is my first proper multiple chapter story which came to me while watching a Bollywood movie. It is set in Mumbai India where Ari is a professor at a university meets a person of colour - Marathi girl at the train station. There will be other Chris Evans characters as professors and Henry Cavill   characters as professors  

Warning: Please read this before reading the story. 18+, smut, sex… etc

Also this chapter is written and dedicated to @madbaddic7ed2pointoh

Two weeks have gone past since her two monthly anniversary date. Maddy and Ari facetime almost daily, in the morning and after work. They would even facetime while cooking, Ari teasing her by cooking shirtless with glasses on.

Arya, who was Maddy's childhood best friend, came over one evening for an impromptu girls' night with wine and Chinese takeaway and a few gifts for her bestie. Maddy was so happy to be spending time with her, maybe she would get some advice about her relationship. 

"Lets see what you've been texting him Mads," Arya said, grabbing Maddy's phone to see what has been going on. She couldn't stop giggling, the texts were so sweet on her part, Ari tried to take it further and Maddy pulled back. 

"What are you typing A," Maddy said feeling nervous, what if Arya said something that would throw Ari off and not want to date her any more. Arya giggled, looking at Maddy who was now frowning, wanting her phone back. 

Arya just sent Ari a text asking what he was up to with a wink emoji. Maddy blushed at the idea, wondering what he sent back. 

Hey babe, I'm just at home watching a documentary about where Chocolate came from. Miss you so so much. 

You know I am chocolate, brown on the outside and sweet inside 😉

Maddy's face became bright red seeing what Arya had typed back and sent it. She wanted to crawl into a bottomless pit then see Ari's face. Would Ari even look at her the same way? 

Arya smiled, she was only trying to help her best friend; she deserved the happiness. 

I'd love to taste it one day 😉

Ari sent the text making Maddy blush and moan, she wasn't ready but wanted to be. 

"Maddy, I bought you a gift," Arya said, putting her phone down and handing her the bag. 

"What, why A," she said, opening the bag to see a full lacy lingerie set, in black for her. "What is this A, I don't wear this kinda stuff," she says pushing it back inside.

"Maddy, you are in a relationship, and from what you told me he sounds lovely. Why not try to spice up the relationship with this set. At least for me try it on," Arya said looking at Maddy sigh, putting her hands through her hair. 

Maddy was shy and nervous about wearing the set, but Arya boosted her confidence with positive affirmation. She jumped out of her seat to go and put it on, gasped while looking at herself in the mirror and saw how well her curvy body looked in the set. 

Her boobs fit perfectly in the bra making her exude confidence. 

"Maddy, lemme see," Arya shouted waiting for her to walk down the stairs and flaunt  her set. "Daym gurl," Arya said whistling at her, telling Maddy to turn around

"Stop it," she said, blushing deep red. 

"Maddy girl, Ari is going to love this on you," Arya says, snapping pics of her. She grabbed Maddy's phone to snap a picture and send it to Ari. 

"Arya, what are you doing," Maddy said, finally getting hold of her phone to see the picture was already sent to Ari. Maddy tried to delete it, but it was too late. She could see he was online and had seen the picture.

She knew Arya meant no harm but now the picture was out there for Ari to see. Maddy sat on the sofa, looking at her hands talking to Arya trying to come up with an excuse to tell Ari. Both of them came up with a plan to tell Ari this picture was a prank between besties, it doesn't mean anything. 

30 minutes later the doorbell rang, Arya  went to open the door to see Ari from the picture Maddy showed her. He was standing outside, in blue jeans and a denim shirt with white trainers. 

"Hi, is Maddy around," Ari said, not sure who this person was. She had never talked about her best friend to him.

"Yes, but who are you,"  she said looking at him, Ari introduced himself to her, they both talking Arya letting Ari know she is Maddy's best friend since they where kids.

"Oh hi Ari," she shouted, letting Maddy know who was at the door. She looked down to see she was still in the set, there was no way she could run up and change so Maddy grabbed the pillows to cover herself.

10 minutes in, Ari wanted to see Maddy. The picture that he saw got him aroused. Arya told him where she was and took him to the lounge where Maddy was sitting, covered in pillows watching Friends on mute.

Arya coughed, getting Maddy's attention, she turned around to not only see her bestie but see Ari in her favorite outfit of his. Seeing Ari made Maddy blush a deep colour red and hide her face in her hands. Arya wanted to go hug her, this was something out of Maddy's comfort zone but Ari told her to give him few minutes with her.

Arya went to the kitchen, scrolling on tiktok while in an ear shot in case Maddy needed her. 

"Hey babe," Ari said softly from across the room. There was no answer, Maddy kept quiet and hoped Ari would go away.

"Sorry Ari, I would never have sent that," she said in muffle tones, her face hiding in the pillow. Ari's face softened, walking over and sitting next to Maddy. 

"Babe, Arya explained that she sent the picture. She told me the whole story, it's ok," Ari softly said, trying to move her hands off her face. "Look at me babe, you're my girlfriend no matter what. I love all versions of you babe," Ari said, seeing Maddy remove her hands from her face and look at him. She stared at him and couldn't help but blush. 

"Now that picture, you look gorgeous my beautiful marathi woman," Ari said and she kept blushing.

"Oh Ari," she said, feeling vulnerable and shy around him. Ari could see her squeeze the pillows tight around her body so he jumped off the sofa and stripped his clothes off, sitting on the sofa in his underwear. "What are you doing Ari," she said giggling at him. 

Arya could hear the giggles and knew Maddy was ok and left to go home. 

"What are you doing Ari," Ari copied Maddy's sentence. 

"Why are you in your underwear," she said, shaking her head. 

"Why are you in your underwear," Ari replied, laughing as Maddy got annoyed and pushed a pillow towards him.

"Stop it Ari," she said laughing at him.

"Stop it Ari," he copied once again making Maddy throw a pillow at him. Ari threw one back at her and they started a pillow fight, throwing pillows at one another. Maddy ducked a few times making Ari miss her, she managed to throw the pillow at his face a few times laughing at him groaning and throwing one back at her ass. 

Laughter filled the room, as they kept throwing pillows at one another, Maddy was slipping off the sofa, she grabbed Ari's arm and they both fell onto the floor giggling.

"Gosh I love you Maddy," Ari said, leaning down to kiss her lips with such passion. Maddy squeezed his arms as Ari again left another tantalizing kiss. She felt nervous, scared in fact but was ready for Ari to take her virginity. 

"We don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with," Ari said, seeing Maddy look down. He grabbed her chin, pulling Maddy's head up to look at him. "Maddy, do you trust me," Ari asked, looking at her cheeks turn light red. Ari stroked her hair, watching her eyes flutter waiting for an answer. 

"I trust you Ari," she whispered, looking at him shyly. Maddy didn't know what to expect.

“We can start off with some more kissing and go from there. Is that okay with you?” He said tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“That sounds nice right now.” Maddy replied, pulling him into her, crashing her lips onto his. The kiss continued on before Ari moved down to her neck. He started sucking and kissing the sensitive area. The sensation Ari was giving Maddy was something she had never felt before. 

Maddy was ready to feel things her friends talked about at girls night. She smiled, looking at Ari, enjoying his beard and scraping her skin with every kiss. His lips started to move down her neck to her shoulders, showering Maddy with love and protection. 

"Ari," she said, her voice shaking. Ari's head shot up, looking at Maddy with such love. 

"Yes, is everything alright?" he replied, looking at Maddy's lips form a small smile . 

"Oh yes," she said, very much enjoying his lips on her. "It's just, my friends were talking about their man going down on them. I mean, no pressure or anything," Maddy said quickly, hiding her face in her hands. 

Ari found her to be so cute, slowly moving her hands off her face and gave her a wink. 

"We can do whatever Maddy is comfortable with," Ari said, kissing her lips softly once again, hearing Maddy sigh and in need of more. 

"I'm comfortable with you," Maddy said softly, looking at him and smiling down at her. Ari gave her a tantalizing kiss, enjoying the moans escaping her mouth. His lips moved to her neck, where Ari placed a delicate kiss on the part under her ear. 

Ari kept kissing, sucking the area seeing how much she was enjoying herself. He didn't want to rush it and take his time showering her with love. When Ari was satisfied, marking her neck, he looked up to see her smile. He brushed her hair away from her face, not able to stop kissing her lips with such passion. Ari simply couldn't get enough of her. 

He smiled, kissing her shoulders. He loved how soft her skin felt on his lips. Ari tugged his fingers under the strap of her bra and slipped it down. He kissed her strap marks and could see goosebumps forming. Ari moved to the left side, slipping the strap down and kissing the skin.

Ari felt Maddy stiffen under him, so he moved back to sit on his haunches and give her some space. Maddy looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes while biting her lower lip. She closed her eyes next and took a deep breath, and when she opened her eyes again, Ari could see lust shining in them. She surged up to kiss Ari and Ari swooped down to meet her halfway, but they mistimed it slightly and ended up butting heads. 

"Ow!" She said as she rubbed her forehead. "Shit I'm so sorry!" Ari said as he ducked down to comfort her, ignoring the throbbing in his own temple. But in the next moment, she giggled and kissed him again, making Ari forget all about the incident as his hands went back to her shoulders. His fingers idly toyed with the straps, while Maddy moaned into the kiss and unhooked the bra herself. 

Taken aback, Ari rushed to help her take it off, and once it was on the floor, she climbed into his lap and thrust her hands in his hair as she continued to kiss him. Her legs wound around his hips and Ari groaned when she parked her tush right on top of his erection. His hands roamed her ass and back, and he ventured boldly as he rounded her shoulders and cupped her breasts, one in each palm. 

Maddy gasped and broke away from the kiss, trying to hide her face in his shoulder. Ari nudged her neck to one side by nosing along one slope of it as he started kissing around her clavicle and approaching her nipple. When he finally took one in his mouth, she lurched in his lap, grinding on him hard. 

Ari went feral then, as he lunged forward and dropped her back on the floor. He braced her body from impact by bracketing his forearms at her back. He continued to explore her boobs as she squirmed in his hold. Ari started moving towards her navel and he looked up at her, seeking permission to take off her panties. 

Maddy sighed and blushed when he made eye contact, but didn't say anything. She ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it, causing Ari to turn his head and kiss her palm quickly. 

"Maddy"

"Hmm?"

"May I?"

"Mm hmm"

"That's not good enough neshama sheli, I'm gonna need you to use your words."

"What…what did you just call me?" She sat up on her elbows, her face flushed and her boobs heaving. To Ari she looked very beautiful when she was aroused and he was already longing to see this sight more often. Unable to help himself, he palmed one of her globes and rubbed the pad of his thumb over one pointed peak, making her gasp. 

"So responsive baby," he gulped. He could feel he was in trouble already. It was gonna be a long night. 

Her hand caught hold of his and she repeated her question, head cocked to one side. The action made all her hair spill over one shoulder and again Ari couldn't resist touching it. He snapped out of his daze though and responded to her, "It means my soul in Hebrew" 

"Mm." She held his palm up to her lips and kissed it. "And who taught you Billo Rani?"

Ari chuckled. "It was…uh..Jensen I think?" 

She said nothing and Ari asked again, bending forward and knocking his forehead with hers. "Billo, you're testing me here. Tell me if you want me to take off your panties or not?"

"Ari," her voice came out small, "what if it hurts?"

"I'll try to make it easy for you, my love," he kissed her again, "but only if you want me to."

"I do," she whispered and threw her arms around his neck. Ari laid her down again as he kissed her and took off her panties, while she squirmed her hips to help him take it off. 

Maddy planted her hands on Ari's chest and her palms flattened in his wiry chest hair. She made a mental note that she wanted to be the one to help him unbutton his shirt next time. She bit her lip as she blushed at herself for thinking about the next time while she was still having her first time. Just then, Ari nipped her ear, putting all thoughts in her head to an end and reducing her to a blissed out mess. 

Ari stopped what he was doing to give her a puzzled look. "Ahuvati, what are you thinking?" 

"What's with you and nicknames?" She giggled.

"Well this is a Hebrew word for my love or darling"

"What else can I expect from a Hebrew Professor?"

Ari shrugged and gave her a smile. She couldn't help herself at how cute he looked and leaned up to give him a cheek kiss. 

"You're so sweet Billo" he nuzzled her neck. 

"Ari" she whispered as she continued playing with his chest hair.

"Yes billo?"

"Um, I'm the only one fully naked right now," 

"And?"

"And didn't you strip down to keep me company?"

"Yes"

"But right now you're not doing it" she pouted. 

"Ohhh, so does my billo want me naked?"

She blushed and nodded. 

Ari booped her nose and stood up to take off his boxers.

She gasped and touched her mouth. "Arre baapre"

"What?" Ari blurted, puzzled. 

"That's….big," she pointed at his dick. 

"Ah, how you make it and my ego bigger Khaim Sheli," he said as he gave her a half smile and turned around to look for a condom in his pocket. 

She watched as he rolled one on his dick and gave it a few tugs. When he walked over to her, she squirmed and squeezed her legs shut in fear, making Ari chuckle. 

"Hey hey babygirl, what's the matter, hmm?"

"Ari I don't know how that's not gonna hurt," she whined. 

"Relax baby, here, let me make you feel good," he whispered as he started kissing down her body again. He reached her mound and caressed her thighs gently. 

"I'm gonna prep you and help you relax baby girl, did you think I was just gonna push it in, hmm my Billo?"

"Y-yeah? Isn't that what men do?"

"Annnndd what was it that you wanted to try? Which your girlfriends talked about?" 

"Going down?"

"Yes," he kissed her mound gently and slowly parted her thighs. Then he kissed her inner thighs, deliberately rubbing his beard along them which made her shiver. 

"Ari," she let out a breathy whimper. 

"Yes Billo?"

"Feels good,"

"Mm hmm. Now you can make yourself feel good too" he said as he continued teasing her by kissing and licking all over her inner thighs. 

"Ahhh Ari, it throbs"

"Where baby?"

"Down there"

"Where?"

"My-my pussy"

"Mm that's right baby. Does she need me?"

"Yes," she gasped as she parted her legs more and bucked her hips up towards Ari's mouth. Ari chuckled and nuzzled her cunt. He loved the scent and his mouth watered, eager to get a taste. 

"Touch yourself, love. Touch your boobs, your body, wherever it feels good," he said, his voice going gruff due to his arousal. He was fully hard now against his thigh. 

Maddy obeyed and started letting out the cutest whimpers. Unable to wait anymore, Ari buried his face into her pussy and started eating her out. She tasted amazing, a little bit salty but once she got wetter Ari couldn't get enough. He very cautiously wiggled one finger into her opening, which led to Maddy's body jolting off the floor with surprise at the sudden intrusion. Ari looked up and saw that she was groping her own breasts as he instructed, but right then, she was looking at him with her mouth open in shock and she had snapped her legs shut and caged his body in between them. 

"Metuka," he didn't break eye contact with her as he turned his head and kissed her inner thigh. "It'll help if you relax, yeah?" His other palm stroked her waist and crept up to stroke her belly. He moved his finger inside her, stroking her walls which were squeezing him very tightly. He touched the roof of her channel and she instantly gasped and her eyes rolled back in her head. She dropped her neck back down and resumed touching her breasts. 

He felt her getting wetter and more lax so he slid one more finger in. Her hand grasped his which was resting on her belly and she tried to turn his palm up to twine her fingers with them. Ari's heart lurched at how adorable she was being. He did as she wanted and stroked her inner walls more with his other hand, scissoring and searching for her g-spot. 

When he found it, she gasped his name and Ari started sucking her clit at the same time. He licked around her opening and found that she really liked being stroked along her side walls, as she was the most responsive when she did that. Ari was painfully hard at this point and wanted to stroke himself very badly, but seeing as his hands were occupied, he ground his hips into the floor instead. 

Ari realized he couldn't wait any longer or else he would cum. He sped up his fingers and mouth, causing Maddy's gasps and moans to come closer and faster. She started breathing hard and clenching around his fingers. She even clutched his hand tighter and her hips started to quiver. Ari licked her harder and shook his head a little, rubbing his beard against her inner thighs and causing her to get even more worked up. He let go of her hand and clutched her boob, teasing her nipple with his thumb. 

Suddenly Maddy lifted off the floor again and shouted his name. He felt a small trickle against his hand working in her pussy and realised she just came. She dropped back down slowly, breathing hard, her skin flushed and shining with sweat. She gave Ari a tired smile and he returned it. 

"Good, huh?"

"Yes."

Ari kneeled above her. She made grabby hands for him and he leaned his face close to her. 

"Wanna kiss you. Come here" she mumbled and wrapped her hands around his neck. Ari complied after licking his lips as he wasn't ready to let go of her taste just yet. He moaned into their kiss as his dick rubbed against her wet pussy, and she clamped her thighs on his hips. 

"Metuka, I need to have you now. Please let me in?" He begged her with his eyes. 

She bit her lip and nodded, turning her head to one side. 

"Hey," he said as he made her face him again. 

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded again. 

"Well then, I'm gonna try to make it good for you, yeah?" He said as he rubbed the head of his penis against her clit. She gasped again and bit her lip. 

"Do you want this, metuka?"

"Yeah, feels good," she whispered. 

"Then just close your eyes and feel it," he said as he kissed her forehead. He dropped one hand down to place himself at her entrance and slowly pushed in. 

Her chest heaved and her back lifted as he tried to push his spongy head inside. Once he popped in, he had to pause and breathe because she was squeezing him too hard. He held her waist in his hands to stop her from squirming too much and pushed in with some effort as he was met with some resistance. 

He rubbed her clit to give her sparks of pleasure as he pushed past the barrier. She gasped loudly and Ari winced, knowing what it was. 

He had just popped her cherry. 

"Ohhh metuka, fuck baby, you're so tight," he dropped his forehead in her neck and kissed her salty skin. "Does it hurt?

"Yeah, it hurts a little bit," she said as she sounded strained. 

"I'm sorry ahuvati, just a little more, yeah?"

"Mm hmm," she said, her eyes blown wide. "You're big."

Ari gave her a half smile and kissed her lightly. "All the better to please you," he winked and thrust deep inside her. 

As he went deeper his own eyes rolled back in his head as she felt amazing deep inside. Tight, warm and wet. Squeezing and pulsing around him. The way he was throbbing he knew he wasn't gonna last long. 

"Baby," he panted as he drew back and thrust forward, "I'm sorry I'm not gonna last long. You feel terrific around me, fuck." 

"I'm, oh, Ari,"

"Does it feel good?"

"Yeah,"

"Touch your clit baby, show me how you like it," he said as he kept thrusting shallowly. 

"Ari, I'm….fuck. I fantasized about this once," she bit her lip and closed her eyes. 

Ari perked up at that. "What did you say?"

"I…I touched myself while thinking of you,"

Ari throbbed harder and went deeper when she confessed that in her sweet breathy voice. 

"When was this?"

Her hand was working on her clit now and she was lost to pleasure. Apparently his shy girl only spoke the truth when she was turned on, "oh, oh….it was after I met you for the first time," 

"Metuka you naughty girl, you wanted me all along hmm?"

"Mm hmm"

"You little vixen. Then why did you need your friend to send me a picture of you in lingerie?"

"I'm shy, okay?"

"Not so shy now are we?"

"Mmm no. Feels so good."

"Yeah? Fuck you're right, if I fucked you without a condom, I won't even make it for 2 minutes. Fuck, you'll kill me that day."

"Ari I'm close, can I cum?"

"Asking for my permission like a good girl yeah? Go on, do it," Ari panted as he felt himself getting close too. 

She gripped his hair with one hand tight as she moaned and squirted around him hard. The feeling of her walls pulsing tighter and tighter caused Ari to curse loudly and cum deep inside her. 

Ari panted in her neck, coming down from his high. Maddy whimpered when he pulled out and immediately curled in on herself. She didn't make a sound, just kept hiccuping and shivering. 

Ari frowned. He was worried. Why wasn't she talking to him? Was she hurt? Oh shit, was she bleeding? She was a virgin after all, of course the first time must've been painful. And he had definitely felt her tissue tear. 

Shit. 

He shook her arm. "Maddy? Billo? Talk to me. Are you okay?"

"Mmmmm." She raised one hand weakly but dropped it again. 

"Billo, why are you shivering? What happened?"

"Mmm Ari, I'm exhausted." She moaned. 

"Are you cold?"

"No."

"Then why are you shaking?"

"Dunno"

Ari realized that she wasn't shaking because of the cold but from the aftershocks of her orgasm. He looked down at her folded thighs. He could see her cum trickling out of her pussy and slightly tinged in red. Shit. Quickly he got up and fetched a towel from the bathroom which he had run under the sink tap to wet it. 

He gingerly turned Maddy over. "Sorry sorry babe, I'm just cleaning you up" he pacified her as she whined like a baby. Ari grinned to himself, looked like she had gone into a floaty post sex headspace. 

In other words, Ari had fucked her stupid. He did that to her. He felt proud. 

"I'm gonna clean you here, okay? I'm sorry if it stings" Ari winced and took a deep breath as he gently wiped her cunt. 

Maddy moaned and thrashed against him, but she was as weak as a newborn kitten. Ari made quick work of that and got up to leave again. 

"Noooo" she wailed. "Don't goooo. I'm cold." 

"Just a minute metuka, I'll be right back," he said as he scampered away. He dumped the towel in her bathroom and threw his condom in the dustbin. He pulled on his boxers and went to pick Maddy up. 

She moaned again. "Shhh I'm taking you to bed love," he said as he carried her to her bedroom. Suddenly he felt guilty. "Sorry love, you deserved to have your first time on a bed. I'm so sorry," 

Maddy wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a weak smile. "That's okay Ari…at least it was with you. I'm glad." 

Ari fell more in love with her after hearing her sweet words. He placed her on the bed and draped her cozy blanket over her. 

"Cuddle Ari," she said as she raised her arms for him, beckoning him. Ari smiled and held her in his arms as he slipped under the cover. 

"Comfy?"

"Yeah," she said as she nuzzled her head in the space between his neck and chest. 

"Ari. Don't leave tomorrow morning, please?" She yawned as she hugged him closer. 

Ari wrapped his arms around her and rubbed circles on her back. "No metuka. I'll be right here. Promise." He said as he drifted off with a smile.

[xxsabitoxx]

You Wish

Gojo x ex-student reader

Warnings: nude photo taking, sexting, phone sex, FaceTime sex, pet names, age gap but reader is still of age!!!!

A/N: I say I’m not a Gojo simp, yet out of the JJK characters he’s the one I’ve written the most for LMAOO. This was supposed to be a mini smut but it turned into an average length fic lol

Word count: 3.5k

You were kneeling on a plush rug, led lights lit up your room and covered it in purple. A floor to ceiling mirror towered in front of you as you got yourself into position. What were you doing exactly? You were taking pictures to send to your former teacher. It wasn’t exactly the proudest moment of your life.

“I’m sure he gets hundreds of photos sent to him a day.” You scoffed as you snapped a few pics to test the waters. Nothing but a matching set of lacy blue lingerie covered your body. There was barely anything left to the imagination. It wasn’t a secret that Gojo Satoru was…well… a bit of a whore.

Women and men flocked to him, absolutely taken by his beauty, and he was never one to turn anyone away. He never had a seriously relationship either, just hook ups and fuck buddies. Though he had the rare occurrences of a “girlfriend” that he cheated on regardless. None of them ever mattered to him.

Though, as stupid as it was, you were hoping to be one of those rare occurrences. Of course you knew better than to go after the man when he was your teacher. Now though, you were two years out of Jujutsu tech. You just hoped he would see you ask an adult, maybe even toy with the idea of fucking you.

You spread your legs a little more, knees digging firmly into the floor. You pushed forward, making your chest the main object in the photo. Only wandering eyes would notice you nearly exposing yourself below the waist. You prayed Gojo would be smart enough to look a little further.

Your plan was simple, take some sexy photos and maybe even a nude or two. Pretend to text them to a fake boyfriend and accidentally send them to Gojo instead. Then you’d cross your fingers and hope he responds after you send a “panicked” apology text. It would be the perfect way to show him.

You shifted onto your ass, bending both knees and spreading your legs. You leaned back, phone covering your face as you snapped a few pictures. Once you were satisfied you switched positions. This time you laid flat on your stomach facing the mirror, arching your back so your lace covered panties would be seen. Another series of photos were taken.

After thirty minutes you had at least 70 photos to filter through. “Maybe one nude one wouldn’t hurt…” you pulled the straps of your bra down. Your breasts spilled out and you snapped a picture. “Eh, maybe not…yet at least.” You used your arm to cover your breasts, snapping another mirror picture. You pulled yourself back together a moment later.

You made your way over to your bed, falling onto it face first. “Now let’s see…which ones would he like…” you scrolled through each photo, by the time you were done you only had 12 photos in different angles and positions you liked. “It’s nearly 2am…hopefully he’s up.” You were beginning to feel giddy.

White light shone on your face as you opened the message app. You hadn’t talked to Gojo in about a week, but earlier in the day you had made sure to reach out to him. That way, accidentally sending him a photo would be a little more believable since he’d be higher in your contacts. Your fingers shook as you selected your two favorite photos.

Y/N: here you go baby, just like you asked for. Do you like them? <3

The message with the photos was marked as “delivered.” obviously you had turned your read receipts off. Now you held no shame, kicking your feet wildly as you prayed for a little bubble to pop up and signify he was typing. Five minutes of staring at your phone screen passed before the message bubble finally popped up.

Gojo <3: oh? I don’t think you meant to send these to me, Angel.

Angel? You nearly threw your phone, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you forced yourself not to respond right away. Your eyes shifted to your alarm clock, watching the minutes tick by before picking up your phone again. Precisely three minutes had passed, but it had felt like an eternity.

Y/N: OMG!! I’m so sorry! This is so embarrassing 😭

You held your breath, nearly jumping out of your own skin when Gojo began texting back immediately. After what felt like another eternity, the message you hoped to see popped up. He had taken the bait easily, it made your stomach do a backflip.

Gojo <3: don’t be embarrassed! You look beautiful :)))

Y/N: you think so? I’m not sure how to feel about them. I took more though! I was hoping he’d like them.

Gojo <3: I do! You took more?

Gojo <3: who’s he? Does my little y/n have a boyfriend?

My y/n? You jumped out of bed, jumping around your room to get the nerves out before leaping to your phone. It was stupid how giddy he made you.

Y/N: I did! And no he’s not my boyfriend, just someone I’m talking to

Gojo <3: sending him stuff like that and he doesn’t even have a title? Maybe it’s a good thing you sent them to me instead :))

On the other end of the phone, Gojo Satoru laid in his bed. The thing is, he wasn’t alone. His latest fling was passed out beside him, their clothes scattered across the floor. He smiled at the screen, admiring the photos you accidentally sent him. If he was lucky, he could sweet talk you into sending more.

Y/N: Are my eyes mistaking me? Is Gojo Satoru flirting with me?

He let out a breathy laugh, soft enough to not wake the woman beside him. Not that he really cared. It was rather odd you texted him again. He had been thinking about you ever since your conversation earlier in the day. Though he certainly didn’t think he’d get this lucky.

Gojo <3: it’s hard not to when you send photos like that. Accident or not… you look fucking beautiful.

Y/N: I’m blushing. I have so many more I could send, would you like to critique them?

Bold. He liked that a lot. He wasn’t picky with his women, but there were certainly things that he preferred more on some than others. In particular, he liked when someone matched his energy. It was part of the reason you two got along so well when he was your teacher. Even though it was two years ago and you were an adult… something still felt wrong about this.

It excited him.

Gojo <3: oh absolutely. If it makes you feel any better, I can send you some of mine :)))

Some of his? You let out a squeal that time, desperately wishing he was right in front of you. This was going way better than you could have ever anticipated. You inhaled deeply, selecting a few more pictures. You were going to leave the half nude one for last.

Y/N: what do you think? Would he enjoy this?

Y/N: also, it’s only fair you send me some as well >:)

Satoru stared at his phone, plush lips parted slightly as he took in your new photos. What he wouldn’t give to be in your room right now, treating you how you deserved to be treated. Just thinking about you dressed like that all alone had him twitching to life.

You looked utterly perfect. Eager to be destroyed on his…oh he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. He opened a folder on his phone, selecting three pics of him in nothing but his underwear. Even in his thirties, he still had it.

Gojo <3: oh he’d be insane if he didn’t.

Gojo <3: You look fucking perfect.

Gojo <3: what do you think of these, Angel?

Your mouth was hanging open, eyes greedily soaking up every pixel. “That’s not fucking fair!” You zoomed in, zoomed back out, flipped to the next one. He had no right to be that damn attractive. You did this for a solid two minutes before typing back a response.

Y/N: Fuck. I’m speechless

You chewed on your inner cheek, the twitch between your thighs was becoming too persistent to ignore. “Maybe… it wouldn’t hurt…” you flipped yourself onto your back. One hand held your phone above your face while the other began roaming your skin. You waited patiently for Gojo to send a response, all the while you kept staring at the meal you’d been given.

Satoru on the other hand was unknowingly mimicking you. Five pictures of you total and he was still feeling greedy. He wanted… no he needed more. What he really needed was you in person. For now, he’d settle for the screen. As his hand lowered towards his cock he was beginning to question if his screen would even be able to satisfy him this time around.

Gojo <3: did you not expect me to look like that?

Gojo <3: I’m offended, i thought you’d think highly of me

He was baiting you into praising him. He wanted to see your true colors. Surely if you were entertaining him for this long, you were interested. “So cute.” He whispered softly as your responses popped up on his screens

Y/N: I expected nothing less from my wonderful sensei

Y/N: quite crazy to me that you looked like this all those years. So close to me without even realizing. Not even my imagination did you justice.

You smirked as you hit send, tugging your bra down again. Your hand didn’t hesitate as you grabbed your own breast, fingers rolling your nipple until you drew a whimper from yourself. You’d get off one way or another so long as you kept texting him.

Gojo <3: not even your imagination? Did my little y/n use to fantasize about me?

You moaned softly, thighs parting as you read the text. “Still do… still am…” you tugged at your nipples, you needed to know what he was doing on the other side of that phone screen. You hoped he was toying with himself while you did too, imagining it only fueled you.

Y/N: all the time. I had the biggest crush on you

Gojo <3: had? You don’t have a crush on me anymore :( ?

Y/N: If I said I did, what would you do?

Satoru smiled, his hand was wrapped around his base just under the sheets. He drew his hand up slowly, scrolling back up to your pictures before typing a response to your text. You were teasing him, he loved it. He could already begin to imagine the things you could send him if he said the right things. Hell maybe you’d even invite him over… let him fuck you properly.

He could see it now. That little lingerie set torn to prices, your breasts exposed and nipples swollen from his hands. The way your breasts would jiggle has he buried himself balls deep in what he imagined was a tight pussy. He’d record it, he’d have to. All your sweet noises, the way you’d suck him in. The way your whole body would probably jiggle when he pounded into you. He needed to see it, he needed to feel it.

Gojo <3: I’d ask you to elaborate. Tell me, Y/n, what did these little fantasies consist of?

Your hand was slipping under the band of your panties, breathing picking up as you felt your heartbeat in your clit. It was working better than you could have ever imagined, you knew you’d hand wouldn’t satisfy what you wanted. Only Gojo could… though you may be able to sedate your needs with a toy. For now you’d just use your hand, it was another version of edging yourself.

Y/N: how scandalous of you to ask me! A lady never shares that information :)

Gojo <3: awwwe you can’t make an exception for me? Or maybe I can help you out…

Two more pictures were sent to you, this time they were far more suggestive. The first was of Gojo with no shirt on, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips accompanied by a very clear outline of his erection. The second was of him in nothing but a towel around his waist. A teasing v-line dipped under the towel he was tugging down, revealing a trail of hair and just a little bit of the base of his cock. You audibly groaned at the sight.

Y/N: mmmm maybe a couple more pics and I’ll be willing to reveal a thing or two

Without a second of delay, the text box appeared again. After a moment one single picture appeared on your screen. This time, it was a full on nude. You gasped, hand freezing before you even slipped between your folds. Before you realized it, you were sitting up on your bed to admire the pic better. You couldn’t decide where you wanted to focus your attention first. He was laying on his bed, the camera had clearly been propped up on something to get such an angle.

It was as if you were laying between his legs, a full shot of his cock, toned torso and messy white hair. His eyes were lidded but you could still see the startling blue of his irises. His cock was speared in something shiny, it could have been his own precum or maybe even spit. His hand was wrapped around his length about half way up. The tip looked a deep shade of pink, slightly swollen from being abused by his hand. On top of all of that, he was just as large as you hoped he’d be.

If you weren’t light headed before, you certainly were now.

Y/N: how about you call me instead?

You nearly threw your phone again after sending a message like that. You could at least force some confidence over text, over the phone would be wildly different. You were starting to regret the choice until your phone began to vibrate, Gojo’s name lit up your screen. You tried to calm yourself while clicking the pickup button and bringing your phone to your ear. “That was quick.” Your voice was hushed, a little hoarse even. “I couldn’t resist a text like that.” His voice was equally as quiet. You had to wonder if he had someone in his bed with him.

“I’m flattered.” You laid back on your bed, it wasn’t as scary as you thought. “Well, you know me well enough, y/n. Flattery is my specialty. Now…” he trailed off, you could hear something rustling. He must have been getting himself comfortable. “Tell me about these little fantasies you have.” You sighed, twisting a finger around the hand of your panties and pulling them taut. “Well… do you want the detailed versions? Or the quick versions.” A breathy laugh passed through the phone. “Detailed please. Tell me all of it.” Satoru had gone into his bathroom, the fluorescent lights making him squint.

“Almost always, we were alone in a classroom together. You’d be giving me extra lessons… though you’d figure out right away that I was just pretending. I just wanted to get you alone… attempt to seduce you.” You felt a slight tremble in your hands, you started picking at your panties a little quicker. “Is that so? How’d you attempt to seduce me then?” Satoru’s hand was shamelessly wrapping around his base, pumping it to life. It wasn’t even difficult for him, he was already half hard from your photos alone. Now your voice was sending him over the edge.“You know I always went with a uniform skirt… I’d plan on forgoing my underwear that day…”

You trailed off, hand reaching down to slip past the band of your panties. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, Angel. But I’d love to know what you’d do now… to try and seduce me.” You’re retelling stories from when you were still his student, that realization was making him feel a little odd despite the lust clouding his senses. You struggled to swallow, mind running wild with ideas. “Well… maybe I’d be doing something like this. A little bolder than things I’d try back then. Sending you nudes…” you heard a shaky sigh. On the other side of your phone Satoru was pumping himself slowly. “Keep going.”

“I’d maybe even send you a video of myself masturbating. Moaning your name and telling you how badly I wished you were here.” Your fingers found your clit, you started rubbing quick circles to produce shaky whines into the phone. “Yeah? What would you say to me in those videos? I’d like details.” You paused for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “How about I just show you.” Instead of ruining the mood by hanging up, you clicked the button to switch the call to a video. Satoru accepted the switch almost instantly. You were greeted by messy white hair, flushed cheeks and the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom.

All the while you were positioning the camera over your body, hoping your arm wouldn’t give out on you if you got too into it. You teased him a little more by only showing from your chest down, part of it was to save yourself the embarrassment later on. “It’s so much easier to just show you…” your fingers began moving quickly under your panties again. Satoru chuckled softly, hand still pumping himself in earnest. “Such a tease, Angel. Look at you… not even willing to show me what’s going on.” He was left watching your hand’s movement through the material of your panties. “I’d love to see your pretty tits… I’m sure you’d love to feel me touching them, yeah?” You were supposed to be the one sweet talking to him, but he simply couldn’t resist.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Satoru.” A punch straight to his gut… and to his cock. He groaned, low and guttural. You could only see his face, that was his own way of teasing you. So you moved a little quicker, letting whatever noises felt right fall from your lips. “I wish you were here. I know those hands can do far more than what mine can. I’m sure you’d know just what to do.” You whined, you could feel the familiar tension building in your gut. Yet you still weren’t satisfied. “Oh~ Satoru…” you cooed softly, thighs trembling and arm aching as you tried to keep yourself in position. “I bet you’d feel so good… your cock is undoubtedly large, right?” He breathed out a soft yes, he was far less cocky than you expected him to be.

Perhaps you really had him wrapped around your finger at the moment.

“Satoru… I wish you were here.” Slick noises sounded softly from between your thighs, just slightly audible through the phone. “Look at you… already close?” He was close himself, hand focusing primarily on his sensitive head. He had no intentions of prolonging his release, especially when you looked like that. “Yes…” you were, as embarrassing as it sounded. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it wasn’t going to be as satisfying, that you’d be left aching and needing more. Part of you wished he’d quit acting like he was a normal human and teleport into your room. But this was Gojo Satoru, the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. “Come for me… please I’d love to hear you come.” He was gritting his teeth, balls tensing as his release spurted out of him.

You didn’t realize it though, instead you were too lost in trying to reach your own release. Shaky gasps left him as his hips twitched, his hand couldn’t stop massaging the now painfully tender flesh. “Satoru…” you gasped softly, body twitching as your release was teetering on the edge. “Come on…” he encouraged softly, forcing his hand away from himself to lean forward. His legs would give out on him if he didn’t. He grimaced slightly as his sticky release smeared on the marble counter. You nearly dropped your phone as your hips twitched violently, a loud cry escaping you as you roughly worked yourself through your orgasm. “Fuck fuck…” you didn’t slow down until your ears stopped ringing, thankful you managed to keep your phone steady. “Satoru…”

You let your phone drop to the mattress below, leaving him to stare at your ceiling while you caught your breath. “How about this, Angel.” His voice returned to a steady yet soft whisper. “Hmm?” Your chest was heaving as you tried to calm down. “Tomorrow afternoon, my place. How does that sound?” You were quiet, eyes widening as you realized what that meant. “Just text me a time and a place, I’ll be there.” You felt a new wave of energy coursing through you. It was finally going to happen. “Of course, Angel. Now go get some rest, you won’t be getting much after tomorrow.” He ended the call before you could respond, leaving you alone with your racing heart.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 2

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation, fingering, toyplay, fuck machine, control, overstimulation, cock ring, oral

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: Okay, here’s the last half! 

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Part 1

I can't let this, I can't let this go When I got you right where I want you I been pushing for this for so long

💌

You put your to-go box in the fridge. Your appetite was all but gone after the encounter but Eva barely seemed to notice as her gushing went from the unexpected cameo of America’s hero to Ray again. Another argument meant she was holding out to punish him but you knew it wouldn’t last. She was already incessantly checking her phone.

You sat as she took selfies on Snap and shared them in her passive aggressive way. You knew this dance. She’d keep going until she got a reaction. You took your own phone but hesitated before you lit up the screen. It unlocked as it registered your face and the number over your inbox made you wince.

It was like a story in itself, the unanswered text bubbles lined the rectangle; ‘where’d you go, sweetheart’ to ‘what’s wrong?’ to ‘I will find you’ to ‘you better answer me, sweetheart’. You could almost hear them in Steve’s deep tones and it made you shiver. The phone suddenly vibrated and sent another wave through you.

‘Seven tonight. I’ll meet you in front of the bar,’ the message said tersely.

You lowered the phone as Eva searched for better lighting and angled her phone around as she pouted. You watched her and the phone buzzed again. You looked down at the next message.

‘You answer me, sweetheart.’ Still all you could do was stare blankly until you felt another jolt, ‘either you come to me or I come to you.’

The threat was clear. It wasn’t just about you. He knew you were at Eva’s and you had no doubt he would break through any obstacle between you. You saw him sitting across from you in the restaurant, felt the way his eyes bore into you.

‘Okay,’ you texted back. It was all you could handle.

Eva giggled and flopped down on the sofa, “oooh, Ray is so mad.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured as the heart emoji popped up on your screen.

“I sent him the pic I got with the Captain,” she smirked, “he’s so jealous.”

“Do you two ever stop?” you rolled your eyes and set aside your phone.

“Babe, he might be a jackass but the way he serves--”

“Say no more,” you pointed your thumb down your throat, “please.”

💌

Eva was gone before seven. You were thankful that you wouldn’t need to explain yourself to her but disappointed nonetheless. You walked the block down to the bar and stood by the corner of the low wrought iron fence that lined the busy patio. You held your phone in your hand and hugged yourself with one arm. You felt sick and numb.

You felt a light touch on your elbow and spun. Steve smiled down at you as he wore a ball cap and dark blue jacket. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said, “I got a bit held up--”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“Sweetheart,” he warned as his lips straightened, “I don’t like to be interrupted.”

“I don’t understand,” you hissed, “I just don’t. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”

“Why I’m doing what? Why I love you? Sweetheart, you need to be better to yourself and if you can’t do that, then I guess I have to,” he tickled your cheek with his fingertips, “are you hungry?”

“No,” you crossed your arms as he glanced over at the patio, “please, just stop. Leave me alone.”

He closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. He swallowed and his hand dropped to your shoulder. His thumb rubbed your shoulder through your light cardigan.

“Don’t be like this,” he said, “after all I’ve done for you. After--”

“I never asked for any of it,” you croaked.

“You interrupt me again,” he squeezed your upper arm and leaned in, “and there will be consequences.”

Your eyes widened and you gaped up at him. He grinned and dropped his hand to take yours. He drew you away from the hedges along the fence and walked you down the street.

“Since you’re not hungry, I guess we can just go home,” he tugged on you as you dragged your feet and you stumbled to catch up. It felt as if he would crush your hand as he stopped by a sleek car and reached into his pocket to unlock it with a chirp, “sweetheart,” his tone was grizzly as he exhaled in frustration, “I don’t like this. This isn’t you.” He opened the door and loomed over you as he lowered his voice to a whisper, “be a good girl.”

He nudged you into the car and you sat heavily as he shut the door with snap. Your hands shook as you turned your phone over and hit the emergency call number. Before you could hit the nine, he was in the driver’s seat and ripped your phone from your grasp. The doors locked with a loud click.

“What do you think the police will do for you?” he growled as he started the car, “do you think they’ll believe you? You think they don’t have a record of all the crazed fangirls who ever followed me around?” he scoffed and reached over to slap your thigh, “buckle up…” he lifted his hand and stroked your neck, “we don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

You slowly pulled the belt over and buckled it. You were trembling so much it took several tries. You let out a brittle breath and sank back against the seat, “no,” you said quietly as you glanced out the window.

“Good,” he said as he drove with one hand still on your leg, “I only want to keep you safe.”

💌

The walk-up looked like any other on the street. She iron railing along the concrete steps, the faded brick, the frosted glass slats of the front door, and the twisted metal numbers just above the mailbox. Steve walked behind you and kept you trapped between him and the door as he unlocked it.

You entered if just to get away from him and he calmly locked the door as he followed. He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it with his cap on the hook along the wall. He waited and crossed his arms as he watched you expectantly. You hesitated and pulled off your cardigan. He took it and draped it beside his jacket.

You froze and stared at the shoe rack. There were several pairs of women’s shoes in the cubbies and the hooks not only held his own jackets, but at least two meant for a female counterpart. You took a step back and peered around. Your blood turned to ice as you saw yourself smiling back from a photo; a picture printed out from your social media.

“I’m still working on some things,” he said as he followed your gaze and adjusted the frame on the hook, “of course, you can bring some stuff over to make it more homey.”

“What…” the air rushed from your lungs and your head spun.

You backed up and caught yourself on the wall. You were losing your mind. This couldn’t be real. None of it. He was crazy.

“Let me show you around,” he didn’t seem to notice your distress, or he just didn’t care. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you away from the wall.

You let him guide you through the front room, the dining room, the kitchen and back up the hall as he pointed out the half-bath. You didn’t process much of it and as he urged you up the stairs, you tripped and hit your knees on the next step. He helped you up swiftly, his arm around you as he walked you up the rest of the way.

You could hardly support your own weight. He sat you down on a bench along the wall as you struggled to breathe. He knelt before you and framed your face with his hands.

“I was gonna wait,” he said, “but you made me do this. And now neither of us are ready but this how it has to be.”

You reached up and grabbed his hands as you stared back at him in horror. He didn’t even flinch as he kept his hands around your face.

“Get yourself together,” he said darkly, “now.”

He dropped his hands and stood. You watched him and nodded. You gulped and got to your feet, your legs weak but you forced yourself to stand.

“I’m sorry,” you said without thinking. He smiled and your heart dropped. Why were you apologising to him? You weren’t wrong, you were trapped.

“Come on,” he shoved you ahead of him and pointed you past the open bathroom door. You peeked in as you passed and stopped at the next, “go in.”

You entered the room. It was a tidy bedroom with everything in its place. The rug, the chair, the bed, the sheets, the dresser; everything was finely arranged and painted a scene you found in lifestyle magazines. He brushed by you and pointed to the door at the other side of the bed.

“Your closet,” he said.

You went forward and opened the door as he watched. He flicked the switch as you poked your head in to look around at the hangers. There were more clothes in the closet than you ever had. Some of them were even identical to pieces you already owned.

“Before we move on,” he went to the dresser and the subtle whisper of the drawer sliding out pulled your attention back to the room, “you should change.”

He laid out a frilly lavender piece. The fabric was see-through and there was no crotch. There were flowers embroidered where your nipples would be, the fabric ruched along straps. You looked at him and back at the flimsy lingerie.

“I’ll wait outside,” he backed away, “surprise me.”

“I… Steve--”

“Captain or sir,” he corrected as he filled the doorway with his broad figure, his hand on the handle, “you will learn the rules as we go.”

“I can’t--”

“You can,” he insisted, “rule number one: you address me properly. Rule number two, you do what I say. Rule number three,” he held up three fingers, “you break the rules and there will be consequences. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

He stepped into the hall and slammed the door. You flinched and looked back at the purple bodysuit. You shuddered and sniffed as your eyes tingled and your nose tickled. You wanted to break down and cry but your fear kept your tears inside. You undressed and pulled on the dainty lingerie.

He knocked just as you finished and pushed open the door without response. His lips parted as his eyes roved your body and you tried to fold in on yourself. He waved you forward and you reluctantly crossed the room. His fingers danced along the seam along your side and lingered just along your pelvis. You may as well be naked.

He gestured you further down the hall to the door at the very end. He slapped your ass as you walked ahead of him and he groaned. You stopped as you saw the thick latch above the handle and you felt him against your back as he caught up.

“It’s unlocked… for now,” he said.

You opened the door as the lightbulb bloomed to life on a censor but you couldn’t cross the threshold. Your mouth hung open as you looked around at the walls, sketches of you pasted across every inch. In all of them, you were naked and contorted in some lurid position; some alone, some with Steve, others you were strapped own while a few had you touching yourself.

You took a step back and collided with Steve. He urged you inside with his body and the door closed. You peered around as he turned to lock the door but there wasn’t a keyhole but a keypad. You couldn’t see what he pressed as he shielded it with his back and your legs threatened to collapse again.

More than the pictures on the wall, the room was a personal playground. There was a bench in the middle that was fit for those kinkier videos you found on the internet, with straps hooked in rings along the legs. 

Aside from that, there were leather cuffs, crops, and other whips lined up neatly over a table, surrounded by a litany of silicon, metal and glass toys. In the corner, there was a boxy machine on wheels with a rod sticking out of it. 

You spun around and Steve caught you. You reached over his shoulder for the door as panic flowed through you like electricity.

“Please,” you begged, “please, let me go. You can’t--”

“Sweetheart,” he cooed as he took you off your feet and carried you further into the room, “tonight, we’re just getting you ready…”

“No, no, no,” you ranted as you struggled against him, “no, I can’t--”

He threw you down on your feet and as you wobbled, he caught your throat, “never say no to me,” his eyes flared with anger, “do you understand?”

You swallowed and nodded stiffly above his large hand, “yes..”

“Yes, what?” he sneered.

“Yes, sir,” you forced out, “I… I…”

“Will you be good?” he asked as he lifted a brow.

“I’ll be good, sir,” you echoed.

“Turn around,” he released you harshly and you staggered awkwardly until your back was to him. 

He rounded you and grabbed your wrist, he pulled you to the cushioned horse and urged you up onto it with a curt order. As he strapped you in, your panic spiked again and you pulled with a squeal of terror.

“If you continue to struggle, it will only be worse,” he said as he buckled in your ankle, your pelvis prone over the end of the bench, “sweetheart, I have to train you because right now, you’re being bad. I can’t love you if you’re bad.”

“Please,” you eked out, “Steve, this isn’t you. You’re-- you’re Captain America--”

“And you’re mine,” he snarled and grabbed the back of your neck as he stood and pushed your head down against the bench.

He trailed his hand down your back and slapped your ass. The strike stung badly and you whimpered as you braced for another. It never came and you sensed him move away from you. You turned your head to watch him as he went to the table but could not see what he was doing.

He spun back and marched around the back of the horse. You tried to crane your head up to keep an eye on him and he smacked your ass again. 

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

You turned your head straight as you let out a whine and he pushed his hand down your thigh. He prodded your ass with the toy in his other hand and the soft click turned to buzz as the vibrations reverberated through your flesh. He rolled it down and pressed along your folds. You squeaked at the sudden ripple it sent through you.

“Just relax,” he coaxed as he pushed between your folds and cupped the toy against your clit, his hand nestled between the leather and your cunt. Every muscle in your body tensed and you gritted your teeth as your core burned to life, “that’s it, sweetheart,” he kneaded your ass with his other hand, “gotta get you ready for me.”

You muffled a sob and pressed your cheek to the bench. You curled your fingers around the metal legs and braced yourself against the rising pleasure. His touch crawled down your ass as he rolled the toy against your bud and he pushed a finger into you. You moaned as he pulled in and out.

“That’s it,” he purred and added another finger, “sweetheart, you’re so tight. So tight for me.”

Your breath hitched as clicked the toy to a higher setting and his fingers sped up inside you as he bent them to reach that most tender spot. Your voice wisped from you without restraint and your eyes rolled back as the pleasure smothered your fear.

“I don’t think you’re ready,” he said, “too tight…” he fucked you even harder with his hand, “you need more.”

Your cunt clenched around him as you came and your walls twitched against his thick fingers. An ocean of pleasure washed over you as he teased your clit to the point of pain. You cried out at the overstimulation as your orgasm crashed down on you. You barely had time to catch your breath as he brought you to another peak and you whined desperately through your teeth.

He slid his fingers out slowly and spread your juices down your thigh and left the toy beneath you as he freed his hand. He backed away and you heard the sloppy noise of him sucking on his wet fingers. Your eyes fluttered open as he went to the table again and wiped his hand on his jeans.

He came back to you and pushed down the straps of the lingerie. He lifted you the inch allotted by the restraint and pinched your nipples with the metal clamps, letting the chain hang between them as he dropped you back down. You grumbled as the feeling plucked at your core.

He returned to the table then went to the corner. You looked up as he rolled the machine towards you, a dildo screwed onto the rod. You pulled at your cuffs helplessly and he slowed as neared you. He stopped and knelt to caress your head as he gripped the firm toy.

“Not quite as big as me,” he smirked, “but it will help…”

“Please,” your thighs tensed as the toy beneath you kept buzzing, “please, sir, no more.”

“Shhh,” he stood and rolled the machine around you.

You listened to him as he adjusted it and lined it up with your cunt. He pushed it until the tip was at your entrance and you stretched around it as he inched it forward. He stopped until the toy filled you. There was a momentary lull and then a subtle whir added to the vibe of the toy as the dildo moved mechanically in and out of you.

You sucked in air as you were fucked by the toy and Steve fixed the vibe beneath you so that it was flush to your clit. You cried out and he backed away as he looked you over. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the pressure building inside of you. The steady motion of the toy was enough to push you further and further with each stroke.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Steve leaned against the table, his eyes watching you over a sketch pad as his hand moved a pencil on the other side. You didn’t even have the sense left to be ashamed. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes back as you succumbed to another orgasm. You heard his low hum of satisfaction and quaked atop the bench.

You groaned and opened your eyes again as he neared. He pet your head and held up the pad before you. Lines of graphite etched your image onto the paper and you stared at the sight of your fearful pleasure. He smiled proudly and stood. He puffed his chest and ripped free the page and taped it up with the rest.

“I think that’s the best one,” he said, “it’s a lot easier with the real thing.”

You quivered and panted against the bench. He disappeared behind you and the toy plunged into you even faster and deeper than before. You grunted and lifted your head as you arched your back.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he reached under you again and clicked the button on the toy until it was on the sixth setting, a vibration that built to top speed only to restart at the lowest and build back up, over and over, urging you to climax only to ease off right before it came, “you’ll be ready… soon.”

He retreated and you looked around your shoulder as you heard the pinpad, “where… where are you going… sir?”

“You need time,” he said as he opened the door, “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

The door closed and you whined. You tried to rip your hands free from the straps and kick your legs but did nothing but add to the whirlwind of pleasure and pain. You were screwed, literally.

💌

You didn’t know how long Steve left you for but it felt like forever. You hardly heard the door as he entered or the deep of the pin pad as he locked it. You only truly knew he was there when the machine stopped. He slowly slid it out of you and rolled it back to the corner. He took the dead toy from beneath your cunt and paced around you.

He wore only his briefs and stopped by the table as he rubbed the front of them. Your vision was hazy and your mind could only think of your core. Even after all that, you wanted more. You need more. You’d been fucked for what could have been hours but hadn’t cum since he abandoned you.

He pulled down his underwear as he faced you completely. He was only half-erect as his fingers toy with a silicon ring. You squinted as he squirted lube onto the ring and rolled it down his length. He grunted as he got to his base and stroked himself as he neared.

He traced an oily finger along your cheek and gripped your jaw, “open, sweetheart.”

He was completely hard by then and pushed his tip to your lips until they parted. He slid inside as he spread his hand over your head and pinned it to the bench as bent his legs. He poked at your throat but didn’t force himself deep, even as you hardly took in half his length. He fucked your mouth carefully as your saliva squelched loudly.

“You ready for me?” he asked as he continued to thrust, “hmmm?” He pulled out of your mouth and you coughed as your spit clung to his tip. He pushed a finger against your tongue and bent over you, “we have lots of time to use that mouth…”

He stood and dragged his hand down your back and came up behind you. He groped your ass and spread your cheeks with a purr. He rested his cock between them and rubbed himself against your ass as he kneaded your hips.

“You ready, sweetheart? You gotta tell me,” he dragged his nails down your thighs and you trembled.

“I’m… ready…” you gasped out, “sir, please…”

You couldn’t think straight, you could see clearly, and you surely couldn’t fight it any longer. You wiggled your ass and let out a pathetic groan.

“Mhmmm,” he gripped his cock and pushed his tip down along your folds. He pressed against your entrance and tapped it cloyingly.

“Please… sir,” you begged, “please, I’m good. I’m being good.”

“Yes, you are,” he praised and pushed into you just a little.

You moaned and slowly he inched deeper. He was bigger than the toy, thick and throbbing as he filled you more than you could handle. You whined and exclaimed as his pelvis came flush to your cunt. Your toes curled and you scratched at the metal.

“Fuck,” he bent over you, his hard torso to your back, “you are so tight…” he whispered in your ear and felt along the clamp over your nipple, “is it too much, sweetheart?”

You nodded and bared your teeth. He pulled back and you exhaled but he thrust just as deep and you shouted in surprise. He did it again as he crushed you against the bench and squeezed the clamp tighter on your nipple. Your voice trickled from you in weak whimpers as your body shook uncontrollably.

His other arm snaked around you and he buried his hand beneath your pelvis. He parted your folds with two fingers and flicked your clit with another. You murmured and rolled your head against the leather as he sped up, his flesh clapping loudly as he hammered into you without restraint.

“Ah, sweetheart, I don’t think I’d last much longer,” he purred in your ear, “fuck I coulda cum in your mouth if I didn’t… prepare.”

He stood up and kept his hand under you as he rutted into you, his free hand against the small of your back as he played with your bud and tilted his hips wildly. His voice mingled with your own but you were so dazed, you could only hear the squelching and slapping of your bodies.

“You’re mine,” he panted between thrusts, “aren’t you? Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m… yours…” you uttered, “sir...CAPTAIN!”

You shouted as he slowed and rolled his hips tauntingly. You raised your head and squeezed the straps of your restraints as you tried to bend your legs. Your body tensed and your back arched against your will. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as you came at last.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he groaned as you gushed around him, “fuck, you fit me perfect.”

You dropped your head and he pulled back to grip your hips, fucking you faster and harder. Your entire body ached as he railed into you. The bench quaked under you and you feared both you and the metal would break.

“All mine,” he buried himself entirely and held himself there, “sweetheart.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gulped at air as he came around you. He bent to unstrap your wrists and ankles. He lifted you off of the bench and you let him, too weak to stand on your own. He bent his knees and scooped you up, tossing your arms over his shoulder as he held you against him and entered you from below.

He nibbled your lip as he moved you up and down his length and you hugged him loosely. He walked around as if you weighed nothing and turned to lay you down on your back, staying inside you as he stood over the bench. He gripped your sides and rammed his hips against you as he held your ass just above the leather. Your reached up and clung to the bench above you and let your eyes roll back once more.

“Mmmm, don’t pass out on me now, sweetheart,” he grabbed your chin and forced two fingers into your mouth, “I’m not even close to finished with you.”

[mrs-gucci]

A Different Kind of Urgent {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooooo! my penpal friend, a fellow adam driver rat, sent me a print of a charlie picture (that I’d seen a gajillion times before, mind you) and for some reason, I thirsted hard. so, naturally, I wrote a fic inspired by the picture. the reader in this story is a college professor, but it doesn’t really contribute to any ‘essential’ parts of the story (aka the smutty parts). it’s just her job lol

warnings: smut. some fluff. masturbation. semi-public smut. the sending of nudes (well, lingerie pics, to be specific). charlie’s dad outfits™️. cigarette smoking during sex. uhh tennis shoe kink??

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex. semi-public masturbation. tobacco use (as is canon for Charlie’s character). implied age gap (everyone’s over 21, no more than 10 years).

You’re in the middle of class when Charlie texts you. Your phone buzzes and buzzes on your desk so much so that you have to stop your lecture for a few seconds, worried that something urgent has happened.

Well, something did happen, and it was pretty urgent, but not exactly in the way you’d expected.

-Charlie: I know you’re teaching class right now kid.- -Charlie: But I need you.- -Charlie: Right now.-

A shiver runs down your spine as you read his words on the screen.

-Y/N: I’ve got like 45 more minutes of lecture, baby, I can’t.-

He growls under his breath, cock straining in his tan khakis.

-Charlie: Fuck.- -Charlie: Can you send me a picture? Just need to see your pretty body, kid.-

-Y/N: Say please, Charlie.-

Charlie groans in sexual frustration, hips bucking up in his desk chair.

-Charlie: Jesus fucking christ, fucking brat. PLEASE! PLEASE send me a picture!-

You smirk, picking out one of the lingerie photos you’d taken when you were home alone one night. You’ve been waiting for the right time to whip them out and...well, this seems like the right time.

-Y/N: Attachment 1 image- -Y/N: Knock yourself out. Take a picture when you’re done, and I’ll be over as soon as class is finished.-

His shaky hands scramble to type in his phone passcode and click on your message, a strangled moan leaving his lips at the picture you chose. He’d never seen this one before, never seen this set of lingerie before.  He unbuckles his belt and almost tears the button clean off his khakis as he pulls his cock out, tip already red and drooling with precum. 

Before he starts anything, he quickly runs over to his office door, locking it to keep anyone from walking in. 

His navy cardigan suddenly feels almost suffocating and he sheds it without hesitation, unbuttoning his dress shirt and parting it, revealing his undershirt. 

Wait...you want a picture. Fuck.

An idea comes to him and he whimpers, equal parts aroused and nervous about giving it a try. God he hasn’t touched himself since the divorce proceedings, just needing to blow off some fucking steam, but you’ve reignited his sexual passion, overwhelmingly so, and seemingly even more than before. Maybe even more than ever, if he’s honest with himself.

He feels like a teenager again, both completely smitten with you while at the same time incredibly horny for you.

Charlie stands up on shaky legs and shoves all the paperwork off his desk, clearing a roomy spot right in the center. He bites his lip as he props his phone up on his desktop computer with the picture of you pulled up. Jerking off with just his hand wouldn’t be enough this time around, a small part of him just knew it. He needs to fuck you, fuck something.

He positions his hands around the edge of his desk, leaving his thumbs right at the top, putting them in a wonky sort of ‘o’ shape. He adjusts so that the sharp edge is pressing against his palm before experimentally thrusting his length forward into the hole he’s created with his thumbs, immediately groaning in pleasure. 

“O-Oh, kid.”

He whispers, picking up a slow thrusting rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as he imagines your pussy.

“Such a good little pussy, my good f-fucking girl.” A line of sweat has already begun forming on his forehead as he moves a bit quicker, growling wildly with each thrust. He’s embarrassingly close already. “God, j-jesus fucking christ, gonna make me cum so f-fast, kid. I’m already s-so close, damnit.”

His hips grow desperate, bucking erratically into his grip. The drag of his cock against the faux wood surface feels absolutely incredible, and he barely even hears the desk begin to groan and shift against the floor of his office, too consumed with his impending orgasm.

“Yeah, you ready? Y-You fuckin’ ready for my big fat--fuck!--load in this pretty little--shit!--k-kitty?”

Just hearing him say the word aloud, his nickname for your cunt, has him cumming within moments. His vision blacks out for a second as his hips rut forward, a seemingly continuous stream of warm white cum painting his desktop. 

“Ahhhhh, fuuuuuuuck.”

He has to bury his mouth into his shirt arm to hide the cries that come from him, eyebrows knitted at the center of his forehead. His breathing is heavy as he begins coming down from his high, eyes flitting open and looking down at the mess he’d made. 

His load had gone across the entire width of his desk, and his eyes widened for a moment as his brain somehow comprehended to grab his phone and take a picture of the spread. 

-Charlie: Attachment 1 image- -Charlie: Come straight to my office when you get to the theater.-

You take a quick peek at the message from Charlie as your students pull out their workbooks, jaw dropping when you open the picture full-screen. Holy shit, he really did need it.

-Y/N: You sure you still have enough to fill me up with when I get there?-

-Charlie: I always have enough for you, kid. Gonna have it leaking out of you when you leave.-

You chew your lip, thinking of a quick yet clever response.

-Y/N: Is that a promise?-

He groans under his breath, chuckling lightly with a small smile.

-Charlie: Absolutely. Can’t wait to see you, kid.-

-Y/N: I’m excited too. I’ll be there in 20.-

The twenty minutes it takes for you to finish class and walk over to Exit Ghost feels like some of the longest in Charlie’s life, knee bouncing impatiently and eyes glued to the door. He twirls the Marlboro package in his hand, the clock behind his desk tick-tick-ticking the seconds away. 

Finally, a soft knock comes and, just in case it isn’t you, he stuffs the carton into his pocket. “Come in.”

Your head pokes through the door and you smile at him as you walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you. You immediately notice his outfit, specifically his shoes, which are propped up on his desk. 

He knows that you like how he dresses, especially when he dresses very dad-like. And those sneakers he has, the white ones with the blue lines on them...god, they drive you absolutely crazy and you have no idea why.

Your bags are quickly shoved off your shoulder by the impatient director, pulling you into his body as his lips attack yours fiercely. He notices the way you’re eyeing his outfit, and it’s then that he realizes what shoes he has on, the pair that you like so much. Oh, he could use that.

His grip on the meat of your hips tightens increasingly as the kiss heats up, lips eventually moving down to your neck. 

“Well, hello to you too.”

You say, laughing softly.

“Mmmm,” He hums onto your skin, lips littering kisses and small nibbles everywhere they can reach. “I missed you, kiddo, feels like forever since we’ve had time for something like this.”

Charlie’s large body presses you up against the door, hands eager to rid you of your pants. He quickly yanks them down to your ankles, fingers finding your clothed folds.

“I’ve got a staff meeting at two, baby. We h-have to be kind of quick...sorry.” You breathe, hand wrapping in his hair, tugging at the silky raven locks.

A small and slightly disappointed sigh leaves his lips, but nothing more is said on the matter. His movements do become a bit more rushed, though, digits dipping beneath the fabric to shove up into your entrance. 

Your legs spread instinctively, knees shaking as he finger-fucks you, thick digits scissoring inside you to prepare for his girth. Meanwhile, you try to focus on getting his belt and pants undone, but it’s awfully hard when his fingers feel so damn good.

He pulls away suddenly, sucking the juices off his fingers as his hungry eyes roam your figure. The carton of cigarettes presses against his thigh and he smirks, pulling his digits out with a lewd pop.

Charlie suddenly pulls you off the door, putting himself in your spot instead. He smirks, fingers running under your chin, keeping your head tilted up at him.

“Will you go open the window for me please, beautiful?”

You nod, rushing over to push it open, then come back over to stand in front of him.

“Good girl. Thank you.”

His pointer finger twirls and points to the floor while the other hand grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket.

“Now, turn around and bend over right here, hold your ankles or feet, or whatever.”

As you position yourself accordingly, he leans back against the door, legs spread and sneaker-clad feet planted on either side of you, right within your line of vision. He’s almost fully hard again already as he moves to free his cock from its khaki confines, undoing his pants just enough to have it out. 

Again, his cardigan feels suffocatingly hot, so he quickly pulls it off and tosses it away. He rolls the sleeves up on his button-up, a sight that makes your insides clench.

He jams a cigarette between his teeth, jaw clenching when he looks up and realizes that you’re bent over for him, in just the way he asked. Your glistening pussy’s on full display as you wiggle your ass a bit, his cock bobbing and twitching with excitement. 

“Oh kid, you’re dripping.” Charlie whispers, almost to himself, hand kneading one of the globes of your ass.

You chuckle softly. “Hey, baby? As much as I love hearing and feeling you, my legs are getting kinda tired.”

Laughing, Charlie says a quick ‘sorry’ before holding and pulling your hips back, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He pulls you back some more, impaling you on his cock, head falling back against the door as he does so. 

His hands shakily ignited the small flame on his lighter, bringing it up until the tip of the cigarette turned orange before flipping the cap back on and shoving it back in his pocket. He takes a long drag, groaning on the exhale. 

He keeps one hand on your hip while the other spreads out on your lower back, guiding you back and forth over his shaft slowly, gently.

“Thaaat’s it, just like this, kid.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the impossibly deep angle created with this new position has it feeling like he’s reaching into your guts. Plus, with the natural up-curve of his cock, he’s brushing all the right spots inside you.

“C-Charlie…”

The familiar and comforting scent of Charlie’s cigarettes fills your nostrils, a haze of smoke surrounds your joined bodies. He continues to move you up and down on his length, buttocks clenching as his hips naturally rock forward, burying himself to the hilt each time you sink down.

“God...jesus christ...love this little pussy of yours, kid.” He breathes through his gritted teeth. “Taking me so nicely, always wrapped around me so goddamn tight.”

You quickly begin moving yourself up and down his stiff rod, bouncing as fast as you can manage. The sweet burn in your thighs only grows more prominent with each passing second, but you don’t care, too consumed in pleasure.

“Mmmmmyyyeah, baby, all for you.”

His hand comes down on your ass, giving it a firm smack before taking another quick drag, exhaling through his nose.

“That’s f-fucking right, all mine. You love being a little slut for this cock, huh? I know you do, you love when I bring you in my office and fuck your pretty cunt in the middle of the goddamn work day, can’t even wait until I get home, this f-filthy slut cunt needs to be split open and stuffed nice and full. Can’t go one fucking day without my cum fucked in you, always needs to be filled up and leaking, hm?”

Charlie was never able to do stuff like this or talk to Nicole like this. She was pretty vanilla when it came to sex, just like to be fucked quietly in bed. He called her a ‘slut’ once and she almost cried, lecturing him for half an hour afterwards on how disrespectful it was.

But now, he gets to explore everything he hasn’t gotten the chance to with you. You love it all, love the way he talks filth in your ear, calls you naughty names. You love getting fucked in all sorts of places, which at first made him a little nervous, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red when you asked him to fuck you in your classroom or finger you under your dress on the subway. But, after almost a year and a half together, you can safely say that he’s a full-on exhibitionist deviant.

Your walls clamp down around him, eyes still squeezed shut as you feel his hips begin to thrust forward. Soon, he holds you almost completely still, moving his hips as fast as he can. His cigarette is almost ashes at this point, and he kicks himself for not thinking of a good disposal plan beforehand.

“Oh baby, oh baby...f-fuck!” You whine, hips squirming and gyrating as your impending orgasm grows closer. “Y-Yeah, I love it, love everything you do to me. Wanna take every s-single fucking drop of your cum, Charlie, want it inside me, want it dripping down my thighs.”

He almost loses his mind over your comments, drilling into you at an impossibly hard and fast rate, the lewd slapping squelching sound of your hips colliding overwhelmingly prominent in the space around you. 

“You’ll go back to work with so much cum shoved into you, make you sit through your stupid fucking meeting with my cum dripping out of you. B-Better hope no one notices, huh? Better hope your boss doesn’t find out what a good little cockslut you are, how much you love having a pussy-full of your boyfriends f-fucking cum.”

A few muted cries leave your lips as he pounds you harder, his own words spurring him on. He can feel your walls pulsing around him, a sure-fire sign that you’re about to cum. 

“C-Charlie! Charlie, I...I’m close.”

“K-Know you are, kid, I know you are. You’re doing so f-fucking well for me, Y/N, squeezing my big cock like a fuckin champ.” Charlie growls, quickly tossing his spent cigarette in a coffee mug on a nearby table. “And now you’re gonna rub your little clit and cum for me like I know you want to. C’mon, kid, wanna feel you come undone around me.”

You quickly begin rubbing your clit and, despite the odd angle, it brings you right up to the edge. You just need something, just a little something, to push you over the edge. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, but then, you’re met with the sight of his sneakers.

“Goddamnit!” You’re cumming almost instantly, flooding his shaft with your release. “Yes! Oh god, yeah, c-cumming for you baby!”

His hips keep pumping, taking you right through your climax before abruptly coming to a halt when they’re buried as deep inside you as they can possibly be. His eyes go wide before squeezing shut, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as he pumps and shoves his thick creamy load into you.

“T-Take it, f-filthy whore!” He groans, rutting his hips the whole way through, making sure every drop is put inside you.

Once he’s finished, having ridden out his high to its fullest, he tucks himself back into his pants before helping you stand back up. He holds you close, looking down at you with a bright, genuine smile. 

“You’re amazing, incredible...just so perfect.” He kisses all over your face before landing on your lips.

Your cheeks heat up at his compliments, hands weaving through his hair as the kiss deepens. 

Suddenly, someone knocks on your office door, jiggling the doorknob.

“Charlie?”

His eyes fly open and he pulls away. Shit.

“Yeah, I’m h-here, just give me a minute!”

You quickly pull your pants up and jump under his desk to hide just as he opens the door, running a hand through his hair. 

He talks to the person on the other side of the door in a rushed voice, answering their multitude of questions before quickly shutting the door, sighing as you crawl out from under the desk. 

“At least we both got to cum, unlike last time.” You walk up and put your hands on his pecs, rubbing them over the fabric. “I gotta get going though, baby. I wanna grab lunch from the deli before my staff meeting.”

Charlie nods, dipping his head down to kiss you one last time, nuzzling his large nose against yours. 

“Come over tonight, though? Nicole’s in town and she’s got Henry, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together lately.”

Nodding, you smile. “I would love to come over. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Great.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later, kid. Have a good meeting.”

You laugh as you grab your bag and head out, turning back to wave and flash him a soft smile.

“See you tonight.”

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[glassartpeasants]

I'm not sure of your rules, but after seeing you want some villian requests. I'm happy to oblige. A senario where Shiragakis s/o starts her diabolical plan to tease him (maybe sitting on his lap and grinding on him), feed him all her attention, plenty of kisses and then she rises and runs out saying "catch me if you can!" A big game of catch and mouse that ends in full adrenaline infused smut scene.😏 What do you think?😁

You have been answered. Seriously though, after i posted that i wanted villain request 3 people asked me, like a the same time, not even 5 minutes after i posted it. But im not complaining. u_u

~~~

Title: Catch Me if You Can

Shigaraki x Reader

Warnings: Teasing, wall sex, sending rat boi nudes

~~~

Your boyfriend sat on his chair staring at the computer screen as he talked to his online friends. You grunt in disapproval as you pouted wanting his attention. You laid on the bed before a light bulb flickered in your head and a devious smile made its way across your face. 

Why not tease him?

You stand up as you go over to Shigaraki, hovering over him from behind his chair. Your hands snake their way to his shoulders. You could feel his whole body tense at your sudden touch before relaxing as you rubbed his shoulders, giving him a little massage.

Your fingers slide up his neck as your hands rubbed his scalp in slow, delicate circles, making your boyfriend silently purr in approval. You lean down over his chair to move a part of his headset. He growled at you before stopping as you sent his praises through his ear.

“You know..your such a great villain Shiggy, one of the best i say.” Your words felt like music to his ears as the thoughts of him being the number one villain with you by his side made his pants feel tight. He grabbed his water that you had given him a took a sip to ignore the ache in his pants.

“And what’s a better way to celebrate being the number one villain then fucking your girlfriend raw?” Shigaraki spit out his water and got it all over the computer screen. His face red as he replayed the dirty words that just came out of your mouth.

He turned around to look at you, trying not to show how flustered you made him by hiding it with an angry look. But when he turned around you were gone.

“Fuck...” He looked down at his water soaked pants seeing the outline of his hard cock outlining his pants.

Just say goodbye to your pillow.

~~~

You sat on the dusty old couch in the bar as you stared at your phone. A sly smirk made it’s way across your face as you see your boyfriend siting at the bar drinking.

The others were across the room, Twice and Toga playing the knife game as Spinner sang the song, while Dabi, Mr. Compress and Magne stared in disapproval.

You look at your phone once more as you open the messaging app and open Shigaraki’s contact. You then send him very revealing pictures aka nudes as the pictures only showed you in a very tight school uniform, black lace lingerie, at one pic of just your breasts in general. 

You look at Shigaraki while hitting the send button. A light ding come from Shigaraki’s back pocket. He grabbed it with four fingers, turning on the phone and going to the message app only to see explicit pictures of you on the screen. 

You could see him shiver then move around in his seat. You snicker to yourself before you walk up behind him and blew wind at his ear. He snapped his neck at you, his neck and ears tainted a slight pink as his eyes behind father wide with disbelief. Your hands traveling downwards before grouping his crotch giving him a firm squeeze, making him low growl.

You started you rub him harshly through his pants under the bar counter, while causally talking to Shigaraki as if nothing is going on. You look at Shiggy once more, seeing him grip his glass tightly, trying not to show any signs of whats going on. If you listen close enough you could hear panting coming from him, but the noise was drowned out by the music in the bar.

You take your hand off his crotch, satisfied leaving Shigaraki all hot and bothered. You smirk at him seeing his cock twitch in his pants begging to be released.

~~~

Shigaraki sat on his gaming chair once again playing with his friends. Your eyes raked his body, thinking of what else you could do to finally get his attention instead of him playing hard to get. You quickly sat up and walked over to Shigaraki before plopping on his lap, making him let out a small breath.

HE grumbled underneath his breath but made no attempt to remove you, which only led to your next step of your plan.

You slowly begun to move your hips against his, grinding on his crotch. You grabbed his face and peppered him in kisses. No place was safe from your lips. 

Your kissing and grinding on his lap caused Shigaraki to grind against you as well. His cock growing by the second. Your hands found their way up his shirt as you begun to tweak at his nipples causing him to let out a gasp. You took this to your advantage and shoved your tongue down his throat, making Shiggy’s eyes blow open.

All the attention he was getting from you was distracting to say the least, you had been doing this all week, but why? Surely you would continue after this right? After a week of you teasing him he would be able to finally fuck you.

Just as his hand begun to grope your ass you shot up from off his lap and walked behind him once more. Leaning down whispering in his ear,

“Catch me if you can Shiggy.” You say before running out of your guys shared room in a hurry, hearing a thud coming from the room.

The once silent halls were filled with sounds of footsteps chasing on another. Your giggles echoed off the halls as you saw Shiggy try to grab you carefully. 

Your breathing became ragged as you started to slow down from lack of air. Before you could process a second thought a hand grabbed you and dragged you into a shoe closet, effectively making you yelp.

Shigaraki pulled you into the shoe closet, closing the door before shoving you into the wall. Slamming his lips into yours as he put your legs around his waist.

“Fucking bitch. You think you can get away from teasing me like that without getting punished?” He growled as his hips bucked into yours, causing small bits of frictions against your clit. Your hands slithered their way into his hair as you tugged on the blue locks making his hips grind faster against yours.

His hands made way to cup your breasts roughly causing you to yelp out at the aggressive attack. All five fingers made their way onto your shirt and bra as the fabric slowly turned to ash underneath you. His lips hooking onto one nipple as the other one was being pinched and pulled by his hands.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as your nails raked on his clothed back, ripping the shirt. You let out pants of desire which were music to Shigaraki’s ears. His hips thrusting more roughly against you, growling remembering that there are clothes in his way from letting him be inside you.

His left hand decayed your pants before pushing you to face the wall. Your exposed chest getting pushed up against it. Your body shivered at the cold feeling of the wall before the sound of a zipper rang through your ears.

“Revenge time.” Shigaraki snickered before you let out a scream at the sudden intrusion of his dick entering your cunt. His hands snaked around your waist as his hips snapped against your ass.

“S-slow down!” You whimpered as Shigaraki showed no mercy to your gummy insides. His cock pounding against your cervix made you dig your nails into the wall leaving behind scratch marks. His panting right next to your ear made you turn around to look at him before a sly smile made it’s way to your face again. There before your eyes was every Shigaraki fans dream,

The shiggy ahegao face.

His tongue hanging out of his mouth as drool run from the corners of his mouth, beads of sweat rolling down his face as his eyes were in the back of his head. His face pink as his moaning could wake up the dead.

Your head flipped back laying your head against his shoulder, giving shigaraki the time to latch on to your neck, wasting no time covering your neck up in hickeys and teeth marks. Making his claim on you.

Shigaraki raked two fingers down your stomach before reaching your clit. HE spent no time rubbing it in harsh circles, no listening to your cries of over-stimulation.

The string in your belly snapped as a wave of euphoria crashed over you, leaving you pretty much lifeless as Shigaraki did a few more thrust before coming in your cunt. Leaving you both gasping for air.

The adrenaline finally wearing off as Shigaraki let you go, making you fall to your knees.

“Thanks for rearranging my insides.” You said as your feet felt like jelly. You try standing up only to come crashing down again.

“No problem now come on. I ain’t done with you yet.”

[imaginesmai]

Peter Parker - Health class, horny teenagers and sex

Plot: Your highschool tries to be as open as possible by giving a ‘sex care’ talk in health class. Flash is the typical teenager who watches porn and talk too much about girls. And Peter, is just nervous

or

Sex is not a rule and Peter Parker isn’t the exception.

or

Kind of a frustation-fic where the writer wants to show that it’s okay to be a virgin and don’t enjoy sex.

Warnings: NO SMUT

You sat on the toilet seat, knees pulled up to your chest and anxiety fluttering in your stomach as you kept staring at the wall in front of you. May’s bathroom was cute; it was filled with some beauty products, but on the majority it was small and neat. You had been there before, yet until that moment you hadn’t had stopped to really look at it. The shiny bath in the corner that still had the strawberry shampoo Peter loved so much. The pale blue towels that matched the walls. The white, wooden bin that was behind the sink.

You trailed your eyes from the wall to the door, that had been closed for more than ten minutes. Behind it, was Peter Parker, probably as nervous as you. You knew he was eaten alive by nerves more often than not, and you hiding in the bathroom was doing nothing good to the situation. But you couldn’t find the strength to leave the bathroom, at least not yet.

You had shared a bed before over the past several months, usually his since the apartment was mostly empty. You liked sharing his space, liked the warmth of his body and the sound of his breathing, his arms around you. You had just slept, curled together under the covers; nothing beyond kissing, and you had been happy with that.

But lately, both of you lived with the aching feeling that there was more, and that you wanted it.

In highschool you had heard about sex, maybe too much even, and in health class they had explained you how to put a condom and avoid STD. Through the whole hour, you had avoided Peter’s eyes and he had avoided yours. And now, the weekend after that talk, you were spending the night at Peter’s.

“Um, Y/N?” Peter’s hesitant voice came through the door. “Are you – everything alright?”

“Yeah!”

As if to prove your point, you rose up from the toilet seat and walked towards the door, not opening it yet. Moments ago, you had been laying in the couch watching a film, lazily making out. The film had ended and you had decided to go to bed, choosing not to notice how Peter kept a cushion on his lap while you ran to the bathroom. Where you were still locked, trying to decide if you were really going to do it or to jump out of the window.

Peter misunderstood your internal monologue as you being uncomfortable in his house, and even though you couldn’t see him, his shoulders slumped down and he dropped the smile.

“If you want to… call your mom or anything, it’s fine” he suggested. “Or I can swing you home”

That Peter was nervous only confirmed what you were afraid of; both of you were thinking about the health class and wanted to continue what happened in the couch. You cursed yourself because, to him, it seemed that you didn’t want to. Which wasn’t true, because you had gone to the mall with MJ after class earlier and you had bought some black lingerie. That was the whole motive of your doubts in the bathroom.

You looked to the mirror once more, thinking again that you had gone a bit overboard with it, and checked how the underwear looked on you. Indeed, it was so good that it boosted your confidence up a bit. You lowered again the long shirt-dress you wore at night and opened the door.

“Sorry, I was just – sorry” you chuckled, not being able to say any excuse. Peter blinked at you and attempted to brush off the sad face. “I’m staying. We’ve done this before. It’s – it’s fine”

Peter nodded to every word you said, not tearing his brown warm eyes from you. You smiled at him and walked past his frozen body into the hallway. The apartment was similar to the bathroom; small, but cute. It wasn’t as neat, probably because of Peter and his clumsiness, that tended to leave socks everywhere.

You felt  the previous tension left your shoulders when you finally entered Peter’s room. It was all the same as when you slept together before, with the space themed sheets and the parts of some technological device laying around. You laid on your usual spot on the bed, and waited until Peter took of his slippers and socks and got into bed. Instead of becoming a mess of arms and legs like usually, you didn’t move.

Peter’s nose brushed yours as you brought your hands close to your chest. The dim light that he always kept on in the hallway, and the night lamp behind him created an intimate environment. It would have been enough to doze you to sleep if your thoughts hadn’t been jumping crazy in your head. Knowing Peter wouldn’t say anything, you talked.

“This week’s talk was cool” you said, looking at Peter’s chin.

“Yeah” he rasped out. “Well, I was – Flash was behind me, and was saying… stuff.”

You hummed. Flash was the typical teenager who talked about boobs and ass all day but hadn’t seen one yet. He ogled the older girls and had some debatable pics on his phone. But Peter, as the teacher showed a female body on the screen and Flash took some photos under the desk, could only think about watching you like that.

“Betty was talking too” you looked at him in the eye, and decided you would just say it out loud. “She was – she said it’s something lovely if you do it with the right person, and I think you’re my right person”

Peter actually chocked on his breath, and his eyes went wide. Was he thinking about it during the whole film, even when he pressed a cold ice pack to his groin? Of course, and it wasn’t the first time he did it. He was, however, as awkward as he could be. Blush creeping his cheeks, mouth pressed in a tight line and not tearing his eyes from your eyebrow. Not even your eyes, because he felt as if he could melt into a puddle.

Thankfully for the both of you, you had known Peter for a while now, and you didn’t misunderstood his silence. MJ had made sure of it talking to you for a long hour that you didn’t enjoy too much. Your hand brushed his chest through his pyjama top, and you chuckled to yourself. It was nothing like the porn Flash talked about – he was wearing an iron man shirt with thousands small helmets.

“It’s fine if you don’t want anything else” you assured him, playing with the hem of his shirt. “Just kissing is fine with me. And you don’t have to feel pressured because of the talk and what the other boys –“

“It’s not that” Peter interrupted you, looking down to where your hand was. “I really want to, Y/N. I have – wanted it for a long… I just, dunno”

“You don’t know what?” you frowned, for a moment thinking it had to do what you had said. “About the right person?”

“No! It’s not – ugh, Y/N, you know it’s not – you know.” Peter tried to explain uselessly; and when he understood he wasn’t making sense, he sighed and lowered his voice.  “I have never done… it. Not like, Flash and them. I-I have, you know, like everyone. But I have never – I couldn’t”

“I’m a virgin too, Pete” you finally met his eyes. “It’s fine, we don’t have to be perfect. If you don’t feel ready, we can –“

“I’ve never masturbated!”

Peter’s outburst, compared with the quiet and soft room you were in, was quite surprising. It wasn’t what he said that surprised you, but how he did it. You had only heard him scream once or twice when there was too much noise around to be heard. He was always a shy boy with a hard time voicing out his opinion and thoughts. So when, right after the confession came the glassy eyes, you weren’t surprised.

“I can’t because every time I try it just, hurts” he whispered, sadness radiating off him. “I guess it’s because the bite, but I’m too sensitive and – and when I – it just… I’m sorry”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Having sex or not is not going to make me love you any less” you shifted closer to him, until it was as if any other night. “If you want to wait, or if you don’t want to, it’s fine. Last month talk was about different types of sexual attractions, and if you’re asexual or –“

“But I want to, Y/N. I promise” Peter whined again, sniffing slightly. “ When we’re, like, making out or something – I-I want to. Then I… try to do it, and I even tried one of the videos Flash sent to the group. I-I-I-“

You couldn’t help the grimace when he mentioned the video. There was something going on between some of the guys in the class that had them sending porn to the group chat. They had been kicked out a few times, and even some of the teachers knew about it and told them off. But they kept trying to spread those nasty videos, that had nothing to do with the reality of the moment and that usually used girls as sexual objects.

It was not a talk you were willing to have with Peter. A few moments ago, in the bathroom, you had thought it would go way different. You were even scared that Peter turned out not to be a virgin, or that expected too much from you, and your inexperience ass wouldn’t know what to do. You threw through the window every comment you had heard about the man comforting the woman and decided to do what you knew you had to.

“Those videos aren’t good, and the actors are just that; actors. We don’t have to be like that or – or that at all. Flash and his croonies can’t understand what we are or need” you assured him, finally making your way into his arms. “That’s our job. If you want to try with me, we can. And if we have to stop, you’re no less man because of it.”

You felt Peter nodding and internalizing your words, and you mentally high-fived yourself.

In health class, they hadn’t been as open as they wanted to. They had talked about how you have to take precautions and choose carefully who you sleep with. They hadn’t talked about being okay not wanting to have sex at your age, about being normal feeling insecure or just being different. Peter’s body ended up relaxing against yours, the previous tension leaving. There wasn’t any more the need of fulfilling other teenagers’ fantasies and sleeping with each other, or proving to anyone that you wanted to do it.

Eventually, Peter moved closer too, searching for that physical comfort he wanted. You weren’t two different persons nervous about being one; you didn’t have to have sex to do so. There was no space in between, and you felt good enough about it.

“You’re my right person too” Peter went back to his original voice volume. “And I want to… try it with you. Just – not the whole way there, yet. And maybe I have to, uh, stop. Or I can’t make you… you know…”

“It’s fine, we have plenty of time” you chuckled, closing your eyes already. “We don’t have to do anything, fuck health class and the horny teenagers”

Peter chuckled too, and didn’t say anything else. Tomorrow morning, May would be back and probably your mother would call you to take you back him. They had had their own conversations with you too; May with Peter which turned out to be a mess, and you with your mother which wasn’t so good too.

You were almost asleep when you realized that, without really noticing, you had said your first L word to Peter. MJ knew about that too – and she had bet that that night would be the first one where you said so. You already felt it, and Peter too. And it turned out, you didn’t need to have sex to know so.

“Love you too” Peter whispered into your hair.

Health class, Flash, horny teenagers and insecurities could fuck themselves that night, for sure.

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[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 7

Catch up on Chapter 6 here

To reward Van for his vulnerability you send him a video of your hand underneath the lace, your fingers moving against yourself. It felt good, sure, but most importantly it filmed good. Van seems to think so, too, judging by his next video.

You sigh in amusement at his enthusiasm. You forget how easy riling up men can be.

Maybe you’d cut someone else off at this point, but Van’s eagerness was endearing. You continue to send him videos of you touching yourself, playing up some soft moans into the microphone. After a few exchanges Van sends a video of his grand finale, complete with his own noises in the background. It’s the one bit out of everything you wish you could’ve saved.

Faking an orgasm is strictly against the rules, so you decide to close off snapchat, coming back to your texts with him instead. In an exhilarated rush you let your glasses of wine do the typing as you send Hope that makes London more bearable.

or

As always, Mary keeps you out of your comfort zone.

Word count: ~5.6k

Chapter Seven May 2019

Van leaves for the U.K. only days after your accident. You insist on being the one to drop him off at the airport, waking up barely past midnight on a workday in order to get him to LAX for his six AM flight. He’d fought tooth-and-nail against you being the one to take him, insisting on catching a ride with one of the other boys, but to be honest you’d wanted to see him one last time. You wanted to reassure him that you were a normal, functioning person, and not the traumatized mess he’d seen that night. 

He’d given you a tight hug over the console as the car idled on the curb in front of his terminal before getting out and grabbing his bags, heading into the hustle and bustle of the airport. You don’t take off immediately but Van doesn’t look back. You watch him examine his phone through the glass doors before he shuffles off, rolling his suitcase behind him. 

For the first time, you don’t have to wonder if you’ll see Van again. You’re absolutely certain you will, considering you drive away from the airport in his Range Rover. 

It’s weird how comfortable you become driving it. You do have to text Van occasionally through the week with questions, but eventually you’ve made yourself right at home, going so far as to even set some of your own radio station presets. Hopefully he doesn’t mind, but you’d tried to listen to his and it just wasn’t your style. At this rate your indie-rock repertoire consisted of only Catfish and the one Sam Fender song you’d listened to after meeting him. And you were okay with that. 

Mary has you come over Friday after work for a girl’s night. She insists it’s because Theo is headed to a bachelor party and she’ll be bored alone, but you get the feeling she’s been worried about you since your accident. She texts you more often than usual, asking about your muscle stiffness and the cut on your thigh. It’d been infected, but cleared up quickly with some first aid ointment you’d had around the house. You were still banged up and had some nasty bruises, but overall you felt lucky things hadn’t been worse. 

The plans tonight are tame, a sure sign of Mary’s worry. While she’d usually jump on a girl’s night as an opportunity to head to a club, something you two haven’t done in forever, she insists on renting a movie and changing into pajamas as soon as you’re over. You have chinese delivered for dinner, and wash it down with a bottle of wine Mary had carefully selected for this evening. You two watch a comedy as you eat your food straight out of the paper containers, something funny about divorced women who decide to take a road trip and make impulsive decisions. 

The whole living room rings out in shrieks of pain when one of the characters decides to get a bikini wax. You both cringe but can’t take your eyes off of the screen. 

“God, remember when I got that wax?” Mary winces.

You remember it vividly, even though it was years ago. Mary had just started dating someone new and during your brow appointments she spur of the moment decided to get a brazillian wax done. One thing you appreciated about Mary’s boldness was your ability to learn from her mistakes; You know now that you will never, ever get a wax. 

“I could never, ever, forget,” You tell her somberly as you recall the memory. She had waited until you were done with your brow wax so that you could be in the room with her, holding her hand. It had been traumatic for you both.

“He didn’t even care,” Mary shakes her head in distaste. “All that pain for nothing. He didn’t say one word about it when we fucked the next time.”

She spends a moment simmering in her anger before she shrugs, the clouds clearing. “It made for some great nudes, though. I used them when I first started talking to Theo and he still has them saved to this day.”

“No way? Even with recent ones?” 

“What recent ones,” Mary snorts. “I haven’t sent him any in forever. He keeps asking but it’s like, I have to be in a certain mood, you know?”

You nod in understanding. “For sure. I’m never in the mood to photograph myself in fluorescent bathroom lighting.”

“Right, exactly!” Mary takes a long drink of her wine, finishing off her glass. “Now that I have a dimmer in the bathroom, though, it’s so much nicer. Turn it down to a nice glow, ugh.” She gives a chef’s kiss to the air. “So nice.”

She refills her wine glass, topping yours up without being asked. Your attention drifts back to the movie.

“I should take some new ones,” Mary muses.

“You should,” You encourage her.

“No, like, right now,” She says suddenly, sitting up. “I never have the house to myself. I should take some to send to Theo. Gotta keep his eyes off of the strippers, you know.”

You scoff at the idea that Theo would pay anyone else besides Mary a glance. He was head over heels for her. But you can see that Mary’s been hit with an unstoppable lightning bolt of inspiration, already shuffling her blanket aside so she can stand up.

“You gotta help me.” She hits pause on the movie, effectively changing the course of the night. “You always get my angles right.”

You sigh, but know there’s no use in arguing. You start to get up as well.

“I’ll grab more wine,” Mary says cheerfully, bouncing away towards the kitchen. 

“You should take some for your man, too!” She calls from the other room.

You let out a dry laugh. “I don’t have a man.”

“Sure you do,” Mary smirks as she reenters the living room with an unopened bottle of wine, “You’re driving his Range Rover, aren’t you?”

“I’m driving my friend’s Range Rover,” You reply. “He was very clear that we are friends.”

“But he’s a friend that would appreciate a nice pic of you.”

“I’m sure he would. But I’m in the ugliest underwear ever, anyway.” You flash her the overworn pair you had on that was probably overdue to be thrown out. 

“I have so many cute pairs!”

“We are not the same size!”

“Sure we are!” Mary has started her trip upstairs, and you follow along with both of your wine glasses. “You can fit my underwear for sure!”

“But not your bras!” Your ribcage was definitely wider than Mary’s.

“We can finesse them,” She insists. “We just need some safety pins. Or a hair tie. I dunno, but we’ll make it work.”

Mary’s place included a stunning walk in closet that you’ve always envied. It was attached to the master bedroom and included sets of drawers that kept all of her folded clothes organized. Theo clearly did not share your enthusiasm for the drawers, considering his clothes were in a heap on the floor underneath his hanging rack. 

“He’s disgusting,” Mary shakes her head when she sees you notice Theo’s clothes. “I can’t get him to fold a fucking shirt no matter how hard I try. He just wants to hang everything! And there’s not enough space for that!” She gestures passionately to Theo’s hanging rod, which is indeed overflowing. 

“Anyway, pick a set,” She slides open a few drawers, revealing matching bra and underwear sets. Lingerie had always been Mary’s forte. 

Mary snatches a black lace set. The bra is clearly not intended for coverage purposes, as it’s obvious from glancing at it that her nipples will show right through the lace. You carefully consider a few other bras that catch your eye, but they’re all push-ups with thick padding. Something about Mary’s sheer bra just feels like it would catch Van off guard.

“I want the set you have,” You pout, hoping she’ll politely hand it over.

“I love this set so much,” Mary sighs. “I wanted to buy two sets at the store the day I tried it on because it was so incredible, but they didn’t have another one in black and all the other colors didn’t have the same oomf, you know?” She rifles through the drawers she has open before kneeling down, opening more. 

“But they did have this one,” She presses a lacy bra into your hands. It’s identical to hers, except navy blue instead of black. “Does that work?”

You unravel the flimsy lace, marveling at how sheer it is. “Yes!”

“And for underwear,” Mary tuts, browsing her drawers again. “I don’t have the matching ones for those, but these are kinda the same color.” 

The underwear is only one shade lighter than the bra, which won’t be noticeable in pictures. The problem is that it’s a thong, with a waistband that’s meant to settle high on your hips. 

“I can’t wear these,” You sigh in disappointment when you unravel the delicate strips of fabric barely thick enough to be held together at the seams. “I look terrible in thongs.”

“Nuh-uh! High waisted thongs are totally different. Trust me! Once you get the waistband right it makes your ass look so round!”

Already your heart was sinking in anticipation of trying on ill-fitting clothes and being too discouraged to take any pictures in them. “Alright,” You sigh, not willing to argue about it. 

Mary heads back into the bedroom, shedding her pajamas before slipping into the lingerie. You follow her to the bathroom, where she plays with the dimmer while you gulp down more wine to soothe your nerves. 

“Take a pic,” Mary commands, halfheartedly posing. You do, and then she reviews it, adjusting the dimmer again as she mutters to herself.

“Another one.”

When she reviews this one, her face lights up. “Perfect,” She tells you, pressing her phone back into the palm of your hand. “Put the wine down, and let’s do this.”

Mary is stunning on camera. Taking pictures comes as easily to her as everything else. She’s not even the slightest bit shy about you being the one to take them, shamelessly sitting down on the edge of the bathtub and spreading her legs, running her fingers provocatively over her thighs. She’s right about the dim lighting making all the difference. Every photo you take of her looks sendable, even if she wrinkles her nose when she reviews them.

When she’s done she’s got a huge selection to chose from, each picture slightly different then the last. She sends one focused on her bra to Theo immediately, and saves the rest for a different time. 

“Now you!” She exclaims, excitedly clapping her hands together. 

If you were nervous in the beginning, watching Mary so flawlessly pose has definitely ruined your confidence by now. You hesitate, eyeing your chosen clothes on the bed.

“No excuses!” Mary cries when she sees your hesitation. “Didn’t you say Van was in London? What better way to keep him thinking about you then this?”

She’s right. For all you knew he could be sleeping in someone else’s bed right now.

You heave a defeated sigh, slipping off your clothes before shimmying into Mary’s. 

The bra does need some finessing, Mary cleverly linking two safety pins together to add the necessary length to the band. It’s uncomfortable but it works, and your nipples do show right through the lace as you’d intended. 

You hold your breath as you shimmy into the thong. The lace uncomfortably slips between your thighs, disappearing into your ass. You grimace down at yourself as you adjust the waistband, unhappy with the way it looks. 

“This doesn’t look right,” You sigh when you examine yourself in the bathroom mirror. 

“Come here,” Mary demands, entering the bathroom with you. Her cold fingers make you flinch as the fusses with the lace, picking at it until it’s positioned to her satisfaction. “This is how it’s supposed to look.”

When you look back in the mirror to see her handiwork, you’re stunned. Her nitpicking had worked some serious magic on the fit. She’d tugged the waistband up until it rested right below your belly button, and then had tugged the sides even higher. The high leg cut of the material revealed extra skin, successfully giving the illusion that you have a more hourglass figure with a larger ass than you actually had. 

“See?” Mary smiles at your reflection through the mirror. “Now time for the magic.”

Unfortunately, however, you are not as photogenic as Mary. Although Mary dismisses any gripes you have about the photos she’s taking, you can’t shake the gut feeling that nothing you were doing was working. You didn’t feel confident enough to send a single one of these photos to Van. You shy away from taking photos on a normal day, let alone in lingerie with someone else in the room. Eventually you grab your phone from Mary’s hands.

“This isn’t working,” You huff.

“But it is,” Mary argues, “You look incredible!”

“Okay, well maybe I need to take some alone,” You compromise. “You’re giving me stage fright!”

“How am I giving you stage fright? I’m telling you how hot you look!”

“Please,” You plead with her, “Just give me some time to try to get something halfway decent.” 

“Suit yourself,” Mary shrugs, swigging the wine on the counter straight from the bottle. “But you’re not allowed to leave until I see proof you’ve sent him one.”

With that she leaves you to it, softly closing the bathroom door behind her. 

You wish she would’ve left the wine.

Now that you’re alone, the pressure is on. You open up the camera, praying you’ll have some good luck.

Without being watched things go much smoother. Within a handful of shots you’ve gotten one that you like. You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the warm glow from the mirror lights lighting up the skin on your chest. The details of the lace are visible enough, but the dark color of your nipples through the fabric steals the focus. Your hand is suggestively cupping one breast, your pointer finger dangerously close to brushing your nipple. There’s not enough light in the room to illuminate any of the background behind your body. The entire focus is on the bra, which consumes the entire faceless shot. 

The moment you feel the thrill of having taken a decent photo you take advantage of the feeling. You rush to send it to Van before you chicken out. At the very least, you’ve now satisfied Mary’s requirements and can now be released from the bathroom.

You forget exactly what the time difference is between L.A. and London, but you think it’s something significant, so Van probably wouldn’t be looking at your text right this second. But you’re still riding a wave of adrenaline, so you decide to take a few more in anticipation of his reaction. 

You try out one of Mary’s poses, legs spread open and a hand suggestively on your thigh. Taking it yourself adds something extra to the angle the way it’s looking down onto your lap, capturing your perspective. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand in the middle of snapping another pic. You almost drop your phone in surprise.

Christ, is all Van’s sent. 

Do you like it? You type back nervously.

Yeah

Van’s lack of emotion is typical, but you’re desperate to prompt something more from him tonight. You send the photo of your open thighs as a follow up.

There you go, You send underneath it with a winky face. 

Immediately the typing indicator comes up. Got any more? 

Do you have snapchat? Your heart races as you send it. 

Van’s reply is one word: his username. 

You scramble to open up snapchat, adding him immediately. He accepts you with as much eagerness. 

Say hi!, the app prompts you as soon as you two are deemed friends. You click the prompt, opening up the camera screen. 

Piggybacking off of the photo of your thighs, you dare to take a video in the same position. This time you let your fingers brush over the lace covering you, cutting off the video as soon as it looks like you’re going to tuck a fingertip under the fabric. 

As quick as it’s sent, you watch the status on the app change to opened. 

When a notification from Van suddenly appears, you tap it without a second thought.

Your gasp audibly echoes around the small room. It’s a clip of Van’s briefs, Van zooming in on the fabric in an attempt to emphasize how hard he is. There’s one that loads immediately after. He’s undressed now, jerking himself off. 

“Are you okay in there?” Mary knocks on the door. 

“Yes!” You exclaim breathlessly. “Go away! I’m having a convo with Van!”

“You have to show me everything when you’re done!” Mary yells through the door, retreating when you hurriedly agree. Thankfully your actual texting thread is mild compared to what you’re about to send. 

To reward Van for his vulnerability you send him a video of your hand underneath the lace, your fingers moving against yourself. It felt good, sure, but most importantly it filmed good. Van seems to think so, too, judging by his next video.

You sigh in amusement at his enthusiasm. You forget how easy riling up men can be. 

Maybe you’d cut someone else off at this point, but Van’s eagerness was endearing. You continue to send him videos of you touching yourself, playing up some soft moans into the microphone. After a few exchanges Van sends a video of his grand finale, complete with his own noises in the background. It’s the one bit out of everything you wish you could’ve saved.

Faking an orgasm is strictly against the rules, so you decide to close off snapchat, coming back to your texts with him instead. In an exhilarated rush you let your glasses of wine do the typing as you send Hope that makes London more bearable. 

Christttt Van sends again. Trust me it did 

You emerge from the bathroom in all your flushed, disheveled glory. Mary throws her phone down on the bed when you come into the bedroom.

“What happened?” She shouts in excitement, bouncing on the bed. “What’d you send him?”

You open up your texting thread and pass it over. “We only texted for a sec.”

Mary’s eyes widen. “You snapchatted him?” 

“I mean…” You shrug, blushing. “We snapchatted each other.”

Mary beams in approval. “‘Hope that makes London more bearable’,” She reads out loud before cackling. “Jesus, girl, what has gotten into you?”

“I don’t know!” You exclaim, laughing. “I never do shit like this!”

“I’ve never seen you act like this,” Mary agrees, passing your phone back. “Van is just bringing out a Y/N like never before.”

“Oh, stop. It’s just been forever since I’ve been around someone I really like. That’s all. You know I had that awful dating streak that was so bad I literally gave up.”

“That’s true, I do remember talking you into giving Van a chance,” Mary smirks. “At this rate I’m waiting for a wedding invitation.”

You wrinkle your nose. “No way.”

“You wouldn’t marry him?”

“Van doesn’t seem like the husband type,” You shrug. “And I don’t even know him, so… Definitely saying no to that proposal.”

Mary hums like she doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno…” She singsongs. “He acts like he loves you. The whole racing out in a thunderstorm thing? And he gives head. He loves you more than Theo loves me, that’s for sure.”

You roll your eyes at her joke. “He’s just very nice,” You brush her off. “I guess he can afford to be extra nice, like the car thing. But he’s never put out any feelers to even be my boyfriend, so I don’t think he’ll be my husband anytime soon.”

“And what about you?”

You turn around so Mary can undo the safety pins on the bra. “What?”

“Like what kind of feelings do you have for him?”

You think for a moment. “I like what we have. He’s fun to be around.”

“You’re not falling in love with him?”

“No!” You giggle.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Oh God, I think everyone’s a little bit in love with him. Did you see everyone at that show?”

“You’re right.” Mary’s done unhooking the bra, and you shimmy out of it. “It even rubbed off on me a little. If things don’t work out can I make my move?”

You two erupt in a fit of giggles at the idea.

\\

The next day slips by, lazy and slow. You and Mary go to bed late, wake up even later, and take your sweet time heading out to grab some breakfast. By the time you’re sitting down to eat it’s already edging towards late afternoon. Theo stumbles in, hungover and exhausted from last night’s adventures. He’s got his own hangover cure in hand, and you three eat together while Mary and you tease him about the strippers. 

Afterwards you all settle in on the couch. Mary and Theo are in the middle of some series, and you watch it for lack of anything better to do even if you don’t understand the plot. They seem quite passionate over whatever’s happening, and that’s more amusing than the actual show. You manage to sneak a few clips of the two of them angrily debating over a character and send them to Van on snapchat. He texts you a laughing face in response. 

Before you know it it’s dinnertime, and you never ended up going back to your own place. You’re grateful to be so close with someone that staying over a second time is an unspoken agreement as you all argue over where to order dinner from. If anything, Mary seems happy that she can keep a close eye on you for a little longer.

The argument somehow ends with everyone working together to make spaghetti. Theo takes over meatball production, you’re in charge of concocting a pot of sauce, and Mary takes on the extraordinary task of both DJing and boiling the prepackaged noodles. There’s no garlic bread, so you all settle for baking regular slices of bread piled with butter, cheese and spices. Despite everyone’s differences in technique and flavor preferences, by some magic it all turns out perfect.

After your late dinner you retire to the guest bedroom, which you’ve stayed in many times over the years. But after a day of being lazy you feel restless, your body feeling rested enough to resist sleep. You pass the time by scrolling mindlessly on social media.

What are you up to? 

Van’s not really one to text first, so when the notification slides onto your screen you jump at something to entertain you. Can’t sleep :( you confess.

In the same boat Van replies. 

You snort to yourself. Aren’t you always lol 

Haha yeah. Another bubble from him: Doesn’t make it easier though

I bet, You type back. I’m sure time differences don’t help. 

Deffo not. 

As you try to think of a response, Van sends another. Where are you?

Laying in bed. Stayed over at Mary’s again.

Typing indicator. Then: Can you manage a sec alone?

I don’t have any more pics Van. I sent you the only two good ones I took. You punctuate the message with a laughing emoji. 

Highly doubt that

That you only took two good ones I mean

But actually I was wondering if I could give you a call

At that you perk up. Yeah you can call!

Van doesn’t respond to your text, but after about five agonizing, uncertain minutes your phone lights up with his call.

“Hello,” You greet him immediately. 

“Hi.” You don’t realize how much you miss Van’s voice until you hear it. “What time is it for you?”

“Midnight,” You tell him after peeking at your screen to double check. “What time is it there?”

“Eight.”

“At night?”

“No, in the morning.”

The weirdness of talking to someone who’s existing in a whole different time of day settles over your skin. “That’s weird.”

Van laughs. “Are you alone?”

“Yep,” You tell him, smoothing the comforter over your legs to keep your hands busy. “Why are you being so paranoid?”

“Paranoid?” Van sounds both amused and offended. “About what?”

“About me being alone! Is you calling me some sort of secret?”

“No!” Van chuckles. “I just want to make sure we’re speaking in private.”

You start to catch his drift, trying to suppress your smile so he doesn’t hear it down the line. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“You can’t sleep, right?” Van’s voice is low.

The sudden shift in the tone of his voice makes your stomach flip. You try to keep your tone breezy. “It’s kind of annoying, yeah.”

“It is,” Van agrees. 

“But it’s morning for you,” You tease him, “Shouldn’t you be heading to work?”

“Not ‘til later. Which is fucking great because I didn’t sleep a wink all night.”

“Oh? That sounds rough.”

“Wasn’t so bad. Wrote a pretty good song.”

“You wrote a song?” You furrow your brows in confusion even if nobody’s there to see. “Your album just came out!”

“I never stop writing,” Van brushes you off. “Anytime an idea hits I play around with it.”

You wonder if he writes down these songs in that leather notebook you’d seen at his house. “I see.”

“Yeah.” Van’s voice suddenly goes back to the lower tone he’d been using before you two had gotten distracted. “Anyway, I thought we’d help each other out.”

“Help each other out? How?” You deliver your question in the same mock-cluelessness of a cheesy porn actress. 

“Oh, Christ,” Van’s quiet laughter bubbles over the line. “Will you fucking quit?”

“Quit what?” You maintain the cluelessness. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do, Mr. McCann.”

Van laughs so hard it turns to a coughing fit. “That’s fucking sick. Mr. McCann is my dad.”

“Ew,” You agree quietly. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Thought we could both get off, if you’d like to get focused.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” You argue mildly. “Where do we start?”

“Pants off and getting comfortable, I suppose.”

“Yeah, okay.” You set the phone aside while you wriggle out of your underwear and debate what position you’d like to be in. Laying down worked fine, but the pillows on the bed have the gears in your brain whirring. You internally debate whether using one of the guest room pillows is disgusting. You were pretty sure you were the only one that stayed in here, though. And you could just use one and concoct some sort of reason they’d need to wash it later. You promise yourself the latter and grab one of the ones at the bottom of the stack. 

You hear the noise of Van speaking, but the phone isn’t pressed to your ear.

“Huh?” You ask when you pick it back up. “I set the phone down.”

“Are you ready?” Van asks.

“No, I’m still getting comfortable.” You smush the phone into the crook of your neck while you puff the flattened pillow and straddle it. 

“What? How long does that take?”

“Shush,” You demand. “It’s a science. Anyway, I’m comfortable now.” You sit back on your knees, feeling the cool fabric press between your legs.

“What’s comfortable?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment that you have to explain it. But you suppose you better get over that quick, considering it’s the only way this’ll work. “Um, I’m using a pillow.”

“Like that show we watched?”

You feel your face burning hotter even though he was being genuine. “Yeah. Like that. You’re doing this too, right?”

“Course I’m doing it too,” Van assures you. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

You chew at a piece of dead skin on your lip. “So what position are you in?”

“On my back on my bed. The usual.”

In your mind you picture his bedroom twenty minutes away, even though that’s not where he is. The fact you have no idea what’s going on on his end is disorienting. “Are you hard?” 

“Uh, just about,” Van’s voice is raspy. “Figure once you get going I’ll be there.”

“You want me to start first?” Your voice wavers the tiniest bit from nerves.

“Yeah. Talk me through it.”

“Okay…” You trail off nervously. You switch your phone into your other hand so that you can reach between your legs with your dominant hand. All of this talking has already had a noticeable effect on your body, which is instantly happy at some light friction. 

“I, uh-” You shiver at your own touch. “Just starting off slow.”

Van makes a small, strained noise. It’s so slight it almost sounds like background noise, but there’s the noise of his exhale against the speaker. Encouraged by his response, you search for something more to say.

“With circles,” You add. “You know, uh, how you start off with bigger circles?” The idea of him being the one to touch you makes you shudder. “Like that. You always get it right.”

“Yeah?” Van breathes.

“Yeah,” You sigh. Your fingers speed up, your hips rocking against the pillow to magnify the sensation. “Did you start yet?”

“I did,” Van confirms. You shut your eyes tight and try to imagine him.

“Do you use something?” You ask, desperate to be able to sharpen the image in your mind’s eye. 

“Hm?”

“Like… lotion? Or lube?” Your fingertips rub over a spot that sends a shock up your spine and you can’t control your gasp. 

Van starts speaking but stutters in surprise at your noise. “No,” He finally grits out. “I- I do the old lick-the-palm-of-my-hand. That’s it though.”

You’ve narrowed down the spot throbbing for attention, a moan slipping down the line to Van. “Fuck,” You sigh, your legs widening. You press against the pillow harder, riding it with the same enthusiasm you ride Van with. “I wish I had my vibrator,” You whine.

His breath hitches. “You’ve got one?”

“At home in my drawer I do.” Thinking about pressing it into you while it buzzes on the perfect setting makes you twitch desperately against your fingertips. “Fuck, I wish I had it so bad.”

“What would you do with it, though?” Van pants. You can clearly hear the soft clicking of Van’s foreskin slipping against any precome, giving you a sense of his rhythm. 

“Slow down,” You plead, trying to focus and match your tight circles to his pace. “I’m trying to go at the same pace as you.”

Van’s breathing is jagged as you hear him slow his pace slightly.

You try to think up some sort of response to Van’s question about the vibrator. The only reason you were craving it so bad is because Van was out of town. It doesn’t see the light of day when he’s in L.A..

“I only use it when you’re not here,” You confess, too exhilarated to censor yourself. “So if you were around I wouldn’t be doing shit with it.”

“Oh fuck,” Van sounds dangerously close to the edge. “I miss you. I wish I was fucking you.”

His voice sounds raw. You replay the way he says he misses you over and over in your mind. 

“I miss you too,” You admit, your voice cracking. “I’ve been thinking about riding you this entire time.” 

“I’m gonna come,” Van pants.

“I know,” You tell him. “I can hear it.”

There’s the frantic noise of his pace speeding up before Van’s moaning down the line. You squeeze your eyes shut so hard it hurts just so you can picture his face, recalling all the details you remember when you’d jerked him off over your stomach. 

You focus on your hazy fantasy of riding Van and getting to see his face tense like that until you’re over the edge, breathing his name into the microphone. 

A blissful silence follows as you both come back down. You allow your bodyweight to slump sideways, dramatically rolling off of the pillow. 

“What was that?” Van croaks.

“Me readjusting,” You say, hesitantly giving the pillow a slight sniff. It smells like sex. You cram it back into the bottom of the pile, reminding yourself to think up a lie in the morning. 

“Oh. Think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah.” You wince at the way your thighs ache from your position. “Definitely wore myself out. What about you?”

“Exhausted. Ready to catch some rest.”

“Okay.” You yawn. “I’ll let you go.”

“I miss you,” Van says again earnestly. “I’ll be back in the States soon.”

It’s one thing to say things spur of the moment during sex, but Van repeating his declaration stuns you. 

“Miss you,” You reply instinctually. “So does my vibrator. It’s in need of a vacation.”

Your joke lands as intended, your heart swelling as Van breaks out into a belly laugh. 

“Christ,” He catches his breath enough to say. “You’re somethin’ else.” You hear the faint click of his lighter. “Stay on the phone and have a smoke with me?”

“I can’t,” You groan in disappointment. “I don’t have any on me.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll let you get to sleep, then.” He sounds equally as disappointed. 

“Okay. Text me.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

\\

[thoughtfulwaffles]

Started With a Text

MrBeast x reader fic

Pretty much you're a pornstar and MrBeat shows quite an interest in you. (Will be a second part to this!)

*Y/S/N means your screen name*

You sat alone in your room, grazing through social media. The relentless nagging of sleep tugged at your eyelids as you scanned over each post. When you finally decide to give into the sleep whispering in your eyes you notice a blue tiger with a red lightning bolt on it's eye. The bright colors caught you attention. You save the unique tiger and place your phone on the charger in hopes you'd use that tiger for inspiration. You snuggle into you grey silk sheets and quickly gave into the slumber.

Dressing for these shows never pleased you. You were never embarrassed about the fact that you were practically a porn star. You started this because you never felt uncomfortable with your body and finding a job in southern California was harder then she thought. The only way people saw your body is if they paid for it on patreon. You knew there was perves out there but you didn't know they would pay so much to see you naked. You made enough money to pay your rent but other then that you're barely scraping by. 

You finish dressing in one of the red lingerie pieces on of your fans bought you. You sit down on your sheets and set up your laptop at the right angle. You make sure everything is in place before you hit record. You do your thing as usual.

After you finish you say your outro with a wink and end your recording. Before you upload any new video you check for any new subscribers to your patreon. You soon grew bored of looking at peoples accounts to see if they are safe to let them see you so you look through your existing subscribers. You look through the people who have your premium stuff and notice the familiar blue tiger. A flash of curiosity ran through your veins as you click on the profile. The name of the profile read Dan Lansing. You had a feeling that wasn't the actual name of the person behind the profile because most people don't want people knowing they pay to see naked women.

You go to google and search the logo. You find that it belong to a man that goes by MrBeast, a "famous" youtuber. After watching a couple of the videos you come to the conclusion that he is somewhat attractive. Looking at the profile, you decide that the person following you account is someone random. This 'MrBeast' guy doesn't seem like the type to pay for any kind of stuff like this. 

After uploading your video you put your computer away. The days in your one bedroom apartment are lonely. It;s the same routine almost everyday. Scroll through social media, eat, film a video, check comments, scroll through social media, eat then sleep. A very uneventful life. On special occasions you would have to leave to go get groceries or shop around for new toys when your fans wouldn't buy any. Sometimes your fans would send you the money then you would have to go out and look for the thing they want or you would glimpse the internet for it. You were pretty satisfied sitting on your couch at 10:30 pm the afternoon reading through comments people have left on your new video. 

Most of the comments on your videos are men telling you how sexy and gorgeous you looked or asking you to wear or do something in your next video. As you notice a comment by the blue tiger you get a message. Most messages are creepy men asking if they could fuck you and you always block those people. You were ready to hit the block button but you stopped midway. It was the blue tiger guy that had messaged you. Before you checked it you read his comment, "Please check your messages" it read. 

The blue tiger was in your message inbox. You figured he'd request a certain outfit or an action but what he actually asked left you in shock. "How would you feel about having a sugar daddy?" A little taken back you reread the message about ten times. You had hope that this was the famous youtuber that you've seen moments before. The chances of it being anyone else was very high but you let your heart fall into the little hole. Your life was very uneventful and to have this excited you. 

"Define sugar daddy." You decide to text back.

Within seconds there was a reply. "I'll fly you out and pay for anything you want if I get explicit nudes and the occasional fuck."

"Jesus he has balls." You mumble to yourself. The idea of someone else taking care of you and acting like a boyfriend peaked your interest. The whole patreon thing gave you a solid income for rent but you needed more to be living comfortably. You flip onto your back and type, "Who are you anyway? Doesn't seem safe for me to fly out to fuck a stranger."

"Does my profile pic look familiar to you?"

"I've done my research. Why would someone like MrBeast be paying for my stuff? Much less keep your profile pic the same."

"Would you believe me if I told you I was him?"

You inhale sharply as read the last message sent. A big part of you wanted to not fall for this trick and just not reply. Another part of you was tired of barely scraping by and wanted something new. "Prove it." You type.

Moments pass with no response. Putting your phone face down on your pillow, stretch and slide down you sheets onto the carpeted floor. You gather enough energy to get up and get something to eat. A shiver ran up your spine as you stepped onto the tile floor that made up your kitchen. You shuffle over over to your fridge and inspect the little food you have. Grabbing an orange, you shuffle back to your bed. 

A photo was sent to the chat. You were hesitant to open it but your curiosity got the best of you. A very groggy looking Jimmy was the photo. He wasn't wearing a shirt, his pale skin contrasting with his dark sheets. His hair was disheveled and his cheeks were a blushed pink. He must be embarrassed about what he was asking. His eyes were halfway closed and his lips were barely in a smile. The picture didn't look stolen or screenshotted. You still had your doubts. "How is that proof."

 "Tell me how to prove it to you."

"Give me your phone number." You took a moment before you hit send. You figured that it would be hard to imitate MrBeast's voice and you could always FaceTime.

A string of numbers was sent. You stare at the numbers for a moment, convincing yourself that this was him. Your thumb hovered over the numbers before copying and pasting it to your call logs. Would it be rude if I FaceTimed first? You thought to yourself. You hit the FaceTime button, deciding that it was more believable if you could see his face.

The familiar voomff was heard and a tired looking Jimmy appeared on your phone screen. 

"Oh wow it's really you." You heard his southern accent through your phone speakers. He looked exactly like the photo he sent.

"What do you mean it's really me?" You say as casually as possible. It occurred to you that he may not have ever heard your actual voice since your videos are mostly you moaning and talking in what you like to call "your baby voice".

"Like... I've been watching your videos for a while now and... you're the only one that I've had any really interest in. It's almost 1 am and I'm so tired but I wanted to take my shot with you. And... you did. I honestly though you'd block me." He ended his spiel with an embarrassed smile. 

Speechless, you tried to muster up words. Why haven't I ever noticed him before? You wonder. "So you want to be my sugar daddy?" You chuckle.

"I wanted to get your attention." The man's cheeks blushed a rose pink as he rolled into his pillow.

"So you opted with sugar daddy?"

"Okay, okay. I did like the idea of having you around. I'll pay whatever you want. I'll provide necessities and housing. I just have this strong feeling to have you around Y/S/N."

Your heart fluttered. It was weird having him call you by your screen name but it still hit you in a way you've never felt before. "Aren't you worried I'll post this on Twitter and damage your career?"

"With the price I'm willing to pay you'll keep your pretty mouth shut." He said it absent mindlessly, the sleep crawling up and slowly taking him. "Plus, you don't seem like the type."

"Huh... Don't see why not."

Jimmy's brown eyes flashed open for a split second then relaxed once again. He was clearly falling asleep. "Was that a yes?" He said groggily. 

"Yes."

"Great. I'll text you with details in the morning. Goodnight love."

With an eye roll, you reply. "Goodnight,"

[terrifying-testicles]

Sugar Daddy!Bakugou x Reader Ch. 2

All right you heathens, it’s here! I want you all to know that pretty much all of this gets written in my free time at my internship lol. I was asked to tag someone in future updates, so if you want to be tagged in the future just lemme know!

The outfits mentioned in the fic appear in this order: 1 2 3

Words: 5.8k

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Bakugou stares at his laptop screen, a deep frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. It had been a week since his friends had suggested being a sugar daddy. Sero and Kaminari had been making jokes at his expense any chance they got. Between missions and patrols, texting him horribly lewd memes. The last time it had happened, Kaminari had been two floors below Bakugou. He was awfully surprised when the ash blond barged in on him training, strolled straight over to Kaminari’s gym bag, grabbed his phone and looked him dead in the eyes as he blew it apart. Mouth agape, Kaminari was speechless as he watched Bakugou saunter out smugly. Kirishima had the decency to only bring it up when they were hanging out outside of work, and was serious about it. Sometimes he threw a joke around, but he chose his words wisely. Bakugou grumbles as he drags his hands down his face. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been curious about what it would be like to be a sugar daddy. He scoured forums and read accounts from daddies and babies alike, as well as suggestions. The more he considered it, the more he was into the idea. The only problem now was that Bakugou had no clue what to do about his profile. He’d compared different websites used for arrangements, and once he chose one, he went to sign up but…he was unsure. Grey catches his eye, Bakugou turning his head to find dark orange eyes staring back at him. He sighs through his nose and scoots his computer further down his lap. The cat’s eyes light up and he leaps up, settling against Bakugou’s chest. The hero brings his right hand up to scratch between his ears. “Katsuuuuki!” A shrill voice rings out, followed immediately by the slamming of his door. Bakugou groans loudly. Footsteps echo through his apartment before pink fills the doorway to his bedroom. Mina leans against the door frame, hands on either side, reminding Bakugou of a pin-up girl. “How’s my favorite blasty boy?” she asks, grin full of pearly teeth. “Who the fuck gave you a key?” Mina laughs and strolls towards the bed, reaching out to pet his cat. “Senshi, actually.”

The cat purrs loudly in response. That stupid cat adored Mina, always preferring her over any company if she was present. He wouldn’t put it past the ashy feline if the damn thing wasn’t such an idiot most of the time. Mina looks over to the laptop on Bakugou’s knees and gasps loudly. “Is that a sugar daddy site!?” she shrieks. Bakugou sputters and reaches to slam the screen closed but Mina is already snatching it up and jumping over him to land on the bed with a subdued bounce. Senshi leaps off of Bakugou, the Chartreux settling into Mina’s side, purring not unlike that of a boat. Bakugou scoffs at the traitor. “Give that back, freak!” He reaches for his computer but Mina slaps his hand harshly. “I would if this were a joke and it wasn’t you.” The pinkette fixes Bakugou with a sly look. “So, have you made an account, yet?” Bakugou narrows his eyes. “…no.” Mina squeals. “Good! I can help you, then!” “No way!” Bakugou tries once again to take his laptop and is, yet again, smacked away. “Oh, come on,” she whines. “There’s no way you could make a profile that doesn’t come off as scary or too vague.” “Shut up, just give it back.” “No!” Mina brings her legs under her in a crisscross and turns her back to the blond. Senshi yowls in complaint. “I won’t question your decisions, because let’s face it Katsu, you’re hot as fuck and you’re letting it go to waste! I just want you to be successful in your sugar daddy endeavors.” Bakugou had pressed himself against her back, reaching around to grab the laptop, but stops his struggle as Mina finishes talking. He frowns, staring at the Log In or Sign Up page, mulling over her words. Prideful as he is, Bakugou has to admit she’s not wrong. He’s not the most charming person, and he’s not the best at talking about himself in a way that isn’t pure bravado or defensiveness. Mina, on the other hand, is stupidly charismatic and knows her friends to a terrifying degree. Bakugou growls. “Fine, you can help me, but nothing gets posted unless I say so.” Mina whoops and gets to work signing him up. “Hot stuff?” Bakugou asks incredulously. “I’m not going to make you Lord Explosion.” She quips without taking her eyes away from the screen. He just huffs and settles his chin against her shoulder. “I’m guessing you don’t want others to know you’re a pro hero, right?” Mina feels him nod. “Hmm…” Bakugou glances at her, whose brows are drawn in a determined fashion, lips pursed. After a moment she grins and begins typing away, Bakugou barely able to keep up with her wild key strokes. “Hey, don’t make me sound too cocky.” he snaps. Mina rolls her eyes and deletes a few words before rewriting it. “How’s that, then?” Bakugou gives a scrutinizing look, but Mina knows it’s only for show. When he finally nods, Mina tosses the laptop to the side, earning a surprised sound from the man behind her. “Now we need a picture,” she pulls out her phone. “Normally, I’d say only a partial face pic, but it might be easier to recognize you as a hero that way. Plus, you’ve got a killer profile and it’d be a disservice to every prospective baby to hide it.” Bakugou wants to protest, but Mina’s flattery gets her surprisingly far with him at times. This is one of them, so he just puffs out a tired sigh and gestures for her to continue. “To the balcony!”

It’s well past dark when Bakugou finally manages to usher his friend out. Living in the same building as her proved to be a test of his patience on many occasions. Since he got her out, he’s been busying himself with browsing through profiles of women in his area. He’s not sure how to approach anyone on here and suddenly wishes he hadn’t kicked Mina out. Some babies play up the innocence, reminding him of actual adolescent girls, so Bakugou avidly avoids those profiles. Some express their sex appeal loudly, which is definitely not what he’s looking for. He’s getting ready to throw the damn laptop when a familiar face catches his eye. Bakugou clicks on ‘AngelEnergi’ and blanches at the picture. [h/c] ringlets cascading delicately over [s/c] shoulders and exposed collarbone, framing [e/c] eyes and pouty lips. A beautiful sigh, but all Bakugou can see is the mocking face of the woman who took his job into her hands. Bakugou can’t believe his luck, jaw clenching at the embarrassing memory. Her face had been haunting him all week, anger at her actions flaring up at full force and— And what? What could he do? Bakugou isn’t the kind of person to turn her in for unlawful quirk use when she still saved someone. He wasn’t going to message her just to bitch her out, either. In all honesty, he’d been intrigued by her. Loathe as he was to admit it, whatever drove her to act as if a pro hero, while irritating, was still attractive. Not everyone is made to be a hero, but she stepped up, despite the risk she faced. It’s an admirable trait. Bakugou takes a breath to level himself. He scrolls down and looks at her full profile. ‘You can call me Angel, though I may not always be one ;) I’m 23 and work all day in a lab, so from time to time I’d like a little luxury on the side. I’m great conversation and don’t mind being pure arm candy. I’m sweet enough~ My arrangements are preferred to be nonsexual. If you’d like to work something out, just give me a time and place for dinner – has to be somewhere public! – and I will let you know if I’m interested. My available times are below.’ Bakugou glances over the times before opening up her photo album. Beside her profile picture, there’s one of her in a blue, form-fitting evening gown, and another of her in a lingerie set from only the neck down. Bakugou flushes at the last one, quickly clicking out of it. Sure, she’d put the picture up willingly, but he wasn’t one to ogle unless they were face to face. That thought sends the hero into a full force blush that extends down his neck and across the tip of his ears. Senshi pads across the couch and nestles himself against Bakugou’s thigh. Said man scratches the cat’s head with a long sigh. “What do you think?” He glances down at his furry companion, who gives a full-body purr. Bakugou snorts. “Of course you do.”

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You open the bathroom door, steam pouring out into her living room. You step out, towel around your chest and are wrapping another around your hair to set atop your head. You smile at the dog lying on his back in the armchair, snoring loudly. You start to head for your room when your phone dings. Curious, you cross to the coffee table and wake up your phone. The screen lights up with two notifications. You swipe away the game alert, but your thumb hovers over the alert from the dating site. ‘HotStuffZero has sent you a message.’ You raise your eyebrows. It’s been a bit since anyone has messaged you, so you’re somewhat surprised by the late-night contact. You tap the notification and unlock your phone. The message just says, “Friday @ 6” and a link. When you check it, you see it’s an upscale restaurant only a twenty minute train ride from where you live. You tap on the profile and can’t help the way you smile at the handsome face before you. His profile picture is of the man’s side profile, looking out at a presumed skyline, if the cityscape backdrop is anything to go by. His pale blond hair is wild, but his face is stern, all angles. You can’t help but admire the cut of his jaw for a moment. It’s the only picture on his profile so you move on to his bio. ’24, Taurus, feisty. Looking for someone to spoil with gifts and take to events. If you’re seeking out fancy dinner dates, extravagant galas, and no-limit shopping sprees, then let me know. No expectations.’ He’s young, you think. You had yet to meet a sugar daddy on here younger than mid-thirties. It was a pleasant surprise, though the last bit confused you. No expectations? Of me or of him? Either way, you could handle whatever came your way. You returned to your messages and shot off a quick “See you there” before locking your phone and throwing it atop the coffee table. This should be fun.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Bakugou really wasn’t a fan of upscale restaurants like this. Sure, he could afford it, had more than enough money to enjoy bougie spots and high-end meals, but he surely didn’t have the patience for the pompous pricks sat around him. They’d pay him no mind until he opened his mouth, then suddenly everyone within earshot was aghast, but would listen intently as if filling up their gossip arsenal. An ideal date for him would be set at home where he could cook a meal far better than some high-strung chef. Yet, all that he hates about these upscale places are exactly why he’s here, right? To show that he could afford something to ostentatious, that he was more than capable of spoiling his potential baby with absolute ease. Bakugou frowns, realizing he still doesn’t know her name. He can ask once she shows up, but he hates not knowing more about her beforehand. He likes having eh ball in his court, with every advantage he can manage. He made it here half an hour before their set time, with a seat near the back of the restaurant to give him a perfect view of the door and most of the establishment. He already has a wine picked out, waiting until she gets here to order it. Hell, he even knows that they’ve met before, while as far as she is aware he’s nothing but a stranger. Checking his phone, he sighs. Still fifteen minutes before they’d agreed to meet. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so early. His nerves are high, leg bouncing so badly the table has started a light tremor. It’s just a date, not even with a potential partner, but someone who doesn’t even have to like him, so long as the money is good. Bakugou’s stomach goes sour with that thought.

You shuffle up to the restaurant, anxiety nestled between ribs. The exterior is extravagant, taupe sponged brick and burgundy awnings sprouting forth above arched, stained windows. The doors are a dark oak with bronze in-lays that swirl along the edges. One heavy door is propped open, giving way to an even fancier entrance, the host dressed in a deep red dress, looking all the part of someone who belonged here. So much as you craved a luxurious lifestyle, it was still a foreign concept to you. You hadn’t even made it inside but you already felt like you stood out. You were happy to lounge at home in sweats and a tank top, though pants were optional if you had nothing to do that day. You walk in and take deep breaths through your nose and you approach the host stand. The woman glances up and gives a wide smile. “How may I help you, ma’am?” her tone is sugary, and you’re certain she’s actually genuine, your nerves settling somewhat. “Um, I’m meeting someone.” “Name?” the woman asks, opening up the black leather book on the stand. You bark out a laugh, shifting your weight between feet, and clear your throat. “Actually, I don’t know his name.” The host glances up at you, raising a brow. You bite your lip for a second. You almost make an excuse before wondering why the fuck you care what some host you’ll only meet once draws conclusions about from your dilemma. “He’s blond, spiky hair, very handsome,” you trail off, unsure the hostess would have any cue who you were talking about. “Ah,” the woman leans to the side, glancing around the slatted wall behind her to look across the dining room. She points to the back. “He should be right back there.” You smile and thank the hostess before making your way between tables. You spot him, drinking from a glass of water. He’s wearing a maroon button down, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the top two buttons open. The table cloth hides the rest of him but you’re sure he’s sporting nice shoes; he seems the type. He sets down his glass and suddenly vermilion stares back at you. Heat washes over you in a wave, a shy smile pulling at your lips. When you make it to the table he goes to stand, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine.” You pull out the chair and sit, taking a deep breath. “I realized I probably should have asked your name.” you laugh. The man across from you curses under his breath. “Bakugou.” You smile “[L/N].” Bakugou clears his throat. “Uh, you look nice.” You were wearing a silver gown, off the shoulder, a quartz studded belt encircling your waist, the rest of the dress cascading in squared off bunches. Bakugou had caught a glimpse of strappy shoes and a toned thigh peeking through the slit in your dress. He was definitely not prepared to be left breathless by this woman. When they met, you were casual and he wanted nothing more than to tear you a new one. Now, you’re elegant and your smile is mesmerizing. Bakugou doesn’t know what to do about it. “So, um,” your voice brings him back. You had one hand on your glass, fingers tracing the condensation. You look nervous, so different from the defiant fire to your eyes from the previous week, and Bakugou is torn between hating it and loving that it’s probably because of him. “I’m not the kind of baby that asks for money up front, just so you know. I don’t want an allowance or anything like that.” “Right to business, huh?” Bakugou leans forward on his elbows, hands clasped in front of his mouth. You shift in your seat at the intensity of his gaze. You laugh curtly. “Yeah, I just like to get all of that out of the way so it’s less awkward when we get to know each other. I hate having it nag at me the whole time.” You take a sip of your water and glance around the restaurant. You don’t understand why you feel so nervous. Maybe because he’s the youngest sugar daddy you’ve met. Maybe it’s the heavy weight of those piercing eyes. Maybe it’s how unbelievably hot he is. Or is it D, all of the above? You think “So, what are you wanting, then?” You blink at him. “Oh, well. I guess I’m just looking to be pampered.” “Why—” “Good evening,” Both of you look at the server. Bakugou curls his lip, irked by the interruption. You greet him kindly before they are asked what they want. Bakugou orders the bottle of wine he’s been waiting for and turns to his date. “Know what you want?” he asks. You blush and quickly snatch the menu up. “No, I’m sorry.” He’s somewhat satisfied by your flustered state. “No worries. I shall return in a moment with your drinks.” The server leaves as quickly as he appeared. You chuckle nervously. “I should’ve checked first, sorry.” “Stop apologizing.” He snaps. He hadn’t meant for it to come out, but it’s become a reflex at this point after years spent shaking Kirishima out of his self-deprecating mindset. You look surprised for a moment, until a sly smile quirks the corner of your mouth. You are suddenly made aware that your date may be less reserved than you originally thought. “You were saying?” you prompt. Bakugou furrows his brows a moment before remembering what you’re referring to. “I was gonna ask why you don’t just date someone instead.” You purse your lips. He’s definitely bold, not holding his tongue for the sake of being polite. You appreciate it. “Well, I spend a lot of time at work and don’t really want to invest myself in looking for someone and settling down. I can’t risk being held back for a partner, no matter how much my mother hounds me for it.” Bakugou can’t help the smirk that makes its way to his expression. He’s quite similar in his reservations. “What about you?” she asks, eyes trained on the menu as she searches for something that sounds good. “I don’t have time to fuck around when I’m working to be the best.” He notices her quick glance up at the curse word, but she otherwise seems unbothered. “Interesting,” she murmurs, loud enough for him to hear. You are smirking, still reading the menu, not giving any explanation for what you mean. The server steps up to the table, wine bottle in hand. He pours you each a glass and sets the bottle on the table, taking your orders and scurrying off again. You drink from your glass while staring at Bakugou. He quirks a brow at you, one hand fiddling with his silverware while the other lays, palm flat to the table. “What?” You set your glass down but keep fingers wrapped around the stem, stare unwavering. “Have…you seem familiar.” Bakugou grins in an almost feral way. Your eyes narrow. You know that smile from somewhere, teeth bared in a subtly dangerous way. Wild hair and piercing red eyes… You open your mouth to speak, but Bakugou beats you to it. “I feel like I should be offended,” he leans in, smirk widening, and you tense. “After showing me up, playing hero,” At that your [e/c] eyes go wide. “you’d think you’d remember me.” You bush your chair back. “I’m sorry, I just– listen, I—” you start to stand, panic overtaking you, until fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. You heart stops for a second, meeting his stern glare. “Hold the fuck on. I’m not here to get you in trouble, idiot.” Bakugou wants to smack himself. He’s not trying to scare you off but he’d doing a damn good job of it. You hesitate. Slowly, you sit back in your seat, arm still held in a vice grip. “You’re…not? Even though I used my quirk in public like that?” He sighs and lets go of her wrist, leaning back in his chair. “No,” he takes a large drink of his wine before continuing. “When I realized it was you I was tempted, but…” Bakugou purses his lips, unsure of how to continue. “I don’t know. I wanted to see what kind of person pulls that kind of shit. I guess.” You eye him. He seems almost skittish, shoulders tensed up and holy shit you can see the muscles rippling under the button up. “I…so you’re Ground Zero?” her voice is barely above a whisper and Bakugou is thankful for the discretion. He nods. You nod in return, thinking. “I couldn’t help it. I just reacted, I guess.” Bakugou leans forward, prompting you to continue. “I always wanted to be a hero. My quirk is perfect for it, too.” You give a strained smile. “Energy manipulation and absorption. My hair acts as a conductor for me to draw in energy. Electric, kinetic, even drawing it from people if we touch skin-to-skin.” You wiggle your fingers around for emphasis. “I can take it and put that energy into my movements. As long as I move around I can channel it. Put extra power behind punches and jumps. Problem is, overuse leads to nosebleeds, migraines, and most importantly seizures.” You let out a heavy sigh through your nose, scooting your chair closer to the table and leaning forward. You keep your eyes off of Bakugou’s face, not keen on seeing how he reacts. “I had a pretty bad seizure when I was 14 and the doctor said if I pushed it I would be more prone to having them with future quirk use. So, being a hero was no longer an option. I mean, who wants a pro to go down in a fight due to a seizure? Too much risk.” Your voice trails off and you bite your lip. You glance up at Bakugou. His brow is pinched, a hard frown in place. “I didn’t mean to make it awkward—" “Shut up.” Your jaw clacks shut, eyes wide. Bakugou turns his head away with a huff. “It’s fine.” He flicks his eyes to match yours, one hand clenching and unclenching on the table. Bakugou wasn’t expecting that response. He’s only spoken with you for less than twenty minutes but he’s starting to understand that the woman seated across from him will not be anything he expects. It excites him. “What do you do instead?” he asks to change the subject. You light up almost immediately, smile spreading and bunching up your cheeks. Cute, he thinks. “I work in a lab! I’m the supervisor for my lab, actually. It’s a University funded lab, and my team works on experiments and studies related to physics with a little bit of kinesiology thrown in. Since my quirk has a lot to do with kinetic energy, I love conducting studies around it. We share somewhat with a team of chemists, but we generally get along.” Bakugou listens intently as you gush about your work and the seemingly crazy group you work with. Your food arrives and the two fall into a relative quiet as you eat. Bakugou is surprisingly comfortable with the lull in conversation. He’s used to Kirishima, who talks while stuffing his face, which usually turns into a lecture from the ash blond. On to pof that, his ex would get so caught up in talking that she’d let her food get cold. Bakugou finishes off his wine to drown the memory. You are mostly done with your meal when you prop your head in one hand and watch Bakugou. When his gaze lifts to yours, you smile softly. “What made you want to be a hero?” you ask with genuine curiosity behind bright [e/c]. Bakugou could give you an honest answer. He could tell you how he grew up being a big fan of All Might, became inspired by the number one hero to work hard and be even greater. If he were honest, he’d tell you that he still looks up to the former hero and has a faint desire to prove himself to his old teacher. But honesty is vulnerability, and Bakugou may as well have censored the entire concept of vulnerability from his mind entirely. Instead, he gives you a cocky smile and says, “With a quirk like mine, I knew I had to be the best.” You arch a brow, lips pressing together in a thin line. You hum noncommittally and Bakugou can tell you think his answer is bullshit. So used to his friends, he expects to be called out without mercy. For the third time that night you completely throw him for a loop. “Well, you’ve certainly made your way up there. Probably one of the best pros climbing the charts right now.” You know that he knows it’s purely said to sate him, but you bit back a smile when he visibly puffs up, a haughty demeanor taking root that’s near impossible to miss. “I’m not sure I ever imagined that the great Ground Zero would ever seek a sugar baby, much less of me.” You are pouring yourself another glass of wine as you say this. You lift the glass to your lips and lift your eyes to meet his. You’re startled by the sharp gaze that greets you. “If this is gonna happen then there’s gonna be rules,” he starts, tone eerily even. “First rule: don’t fucking sell yourself short. I’m the best and only accept the best, so quit shitting on yourself. I don’t wanna hear that self-deprecating bullshit.” All you can do is nod, throat tight. “Second,” Bakugou lounges back in his chair, not unlike a King who knows the power he holds over his court. You grip your glass tight, eye wide and attentive. He feels something warm swell in his chest at your undivided attention, warmth spindling up behind his sternum and into the dip where his throat meets collarbone. “I don’t want anyone to know I’m a sugar daddy. I don’t care what people think of me, but my PR agent would have my head if rumors like that went around. In public, we’re together, but no one needs details.” “You’re a private person, I take it?” your voice is quiet as you sip at the wine. “If I want someone to know my business, they will. My fans and the press don’t need to know shit about me outside of when I’m kickin’ ass.” He punctuates the sentiment with a deep scowl. You nod, smiling softly. “I agree. I’m not the kind of person to share my life with the world, only what I want them to see of me.” Bakugou grunts. “There’s gonna be events I take you to, public shit with press and all those fucking vultures. They’ll probably ask you about ‘us’ but you don’t gotta answer anything.” He narrows his eyes. “And if you do, watch what you say.” You chuckle. “You don’t need to worry.” Your smile widens, teeth on display and a playful glint in your eyes. “Do I get to call you any pet names?” “Not if you want to keep your tongue.” At that, you bust out in laughter. Patrons seated around you shoot glares your way, though neither seem to care. When you settle down, you tell him, “Noted. Anything else?” Bakugou flexes his jaw in thought. “Not right now but I’ll tell you if I think of anything.” The two fall into another comfortable silence as Bakugou finishes his meal. You observe the people around you, the way they hold an air of superiority about them despite no effort on their part, elegance second nature to them. You had worried that your date would leave you feeling inadequate, making you hyper aware of the role you were playing that felt so unfamiliar. Yet here you were with your favorite hero, feeling free to be as much yourself as the situation allowed. Hell, more so, even. The server comes by to leave the check and take their plates. Bakugou glances over the ticket, then reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. You expect a credit card, like the dates before him, but instead he pulls out large bills and tosses them onto the table. He stands and quickly moves to pull out your chair. He even goes so far as to offer his arm. You take it with a bashful smile. Once outside, you take a deep breath of the city air. This side of town was quieter, less pollution and traffic. Bakugou pulls away and faces you. “I’ll call you a cab.” “Oh no, I can take the train.” He shoots you a look that says ‘Excuse me?’ so you shut your mouth and look to your feet. The hero takes out his phone and taps away before putting it back in his pocket. “Are you telling me you took a fucking train to get here? In that?” Bakugou gives you a once over, jealously flaring inside his chest at the thought of others eyes you up like this. He’s unsure why he feels so strongly about it, but he’s long past the days of shoving his emotions into a box and wishes he just knew how to make the ugly feeling fuck right off. “Uh, yeah? I don’t have a car.” You shrug. A growl bubbles up from Bakugou’s throat and he takes a step closer to you. You straighten, face now mere inches from his, those vermilion orbs pinning you in place. “From now on, when we meet, I’ll pick you up.” You can only nod, voice gone under his gaze. He nods, stepping out of your space. You take a deep breath now that you feel you are able. “There’s a stupid gala in a week and a half. I’ll give you details later.” Bakugou holds out his hand and for a moment you stare at it, confused. He clears his throat. “I need your phone, dumbass.” You jolt with an “oh!” before pulling it from your purse and handing it to him. “It’s some fundraiser my agency and a couple others are throwing. I don’t remember what for, but heroes and other celebrities are gonna be there.” He hands you back the phone. “Be sure to dress nice. This is your debut.” As he says the last bit, he pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and holds it out to you. You balk, taking a moment to stare before your fingers timidly curl around the paper. “Buy something that’s solid. Even Mina is ditching print.” You have no idea who that is but just nod your head in understanding. He keeps making you feel like words are impossible to conjure. No one has ever made you so speechless. A car pulls up to the curb and Bakugou has the door open and is ushering you in before you even realize. From your seat, you blink up at your date owlishly. He leans on the car door, dim fairy lights casting a warm glow behind him. “And one last thing,” Bakugou leans in, forehead almost pressed to the car’s cool metal lip. His voice drops to a level only you can hear, a purr edging his words. “I better be the only you call Daddy. Got that?” You feel pins and needles prodding your cheeks and numbing your fingers. You nod dumbly. He shakes his head, arching a brow in expectation. Swallowing, you shift in your seat. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper shyly. He rewards you with a wide smirk, teeth peeking out behind pink lips, and leans back, hand gripping the door and fuck you can’t stop gawking at those biceps. Bakugou feels pride at the way you eye his arms, and maybe he flexes a little just to show off. “Night, baby.” With that, the door slams shut and the car pulls away from the restaurant. You raise your voice enough to tell the driver your address, then return to the daze the hero had left you in. It takes a few long minutes before you are able to pull it together. You flip through the cash he gave you, eyes growing to saucers when you see he gave you a whole ¥50,000. You couldn’t believe he’d give you so much, and for a dress! You stuff it into your purse and pull out your phone, staring at the new contact. You huff at it, Bakugou having put his name, just plain and boring, and edit the contact, changing the name to Daddy followed by an explosion emoji. You pull up a new conversation and shoot off a text to ensure he has your number. The whole way home you grin like a maniac, a light buzzing resonating through your entire being. You’re in a daze as you climb up the 4 flights of stairs to your apartment, humming something random as you unlock your door, only grounding when Rōrupan barrels into you and sends you right on your ass. You place both hands on either side of the dog’s face, scratching intently and sighing dreamily. “It seems things are turning out pretty good for me, Rōru.” The rest of your night is a haze of excitement humming in your veins.

Bakugou makes it home, thoughts stuck on the woman he spent his evening with. When he walks through the door Senshi immediately appears at his feet, rubbing himself across Bakugou’s leg, purring loudly like he has a car engine for a heart. The blond picks him up and scratches under his chin while wandering around the loft aimlessly. He’s left with a light feeling, energy swimming through his body and he doesn’t understand it. All of this from one date? Bakugou scoffs as he sets Senshi on the bed. “You should have seen how gorgeous she was,” he mutters to the cat. He removes his shirt, receiving a chirp in response from his companion. “You’d like her…but I guess you’re a whore for anyone who will give you attention, huh?” Senshi rolls onto his back, wiggling and mewing, as if to say, “Why don’t you give me attention?” Bakugou rolls his eyes affectionately, then continues to get ready for bed. And if he dreams of carding his fingers through [h/c] hair and kissing soft skin, that’s only between him and his cat.

_-_-_-_-_

@sessi03

[hornyforhollands]

Sub!haz. You turn the tables in him one night with the only goal of getting him the beg for release. It’s always the other way around and you want to see what it’s like. Extra points for praise kink.

oh fuck sub!haz makes wetttttt

 so im gonna make this a headcanon if that’s okay if not just lmk and i’ll rewrite it :) enjoy!

so haz had left you high and dry in morning after teasing you in bed and then leaving for work

and u were frustrated all day at work bc of it

so u started to plan your revenge when u got home

he told you he wasn’t gonna be home til late bc of a photoshoot so u had enough time to prepare yourself

you put on his favorite lingerie

a sexy black lace-trimmed bralette that complimented your cleavage perfectly with a matching black thong along with a silk robe to keep yourself warm for the time being

you lit some vanilla scented candles and dimmed the lights in your bedroom

you waited patiently on your bed scrolling thru social media when an idea popped in your head

you tapped the camera app and took a couple sexy photos of your body (one right below your nose of you biting your lip, a full body one of your lingerie set, basically a bunch of pics of u being hot as fuck)

u sent them all to haz along with a text saying “come home soon...”

u wanted to tease him for being such an asshole earlier this morning

within 30 minutes of sending that text you her the front door open and shut quickly

“babygirl?” haz calls out

“up hereeee...” you say trying your best to sound sexy

you hear his hurried footsteps going up the stairs

he pushes open the door and that’s when you see him

he’s wearing a dark blue suit with a crisp white button-up and a sleek black silk tie

his hair was perfectly styled and couldn’t wait to wreck it

bc yanno... sex hair is the best hair

u stand up from the bed and pad over to him and rest your hands on his shoulders while his are immediately gripping your hips

you gaze up at him thru your lashes

“hazzy baby, we’re gonna try something different tonight, okay?”

he smirks, “different how?”

you undo his tie and pull it off him but keep it in your hand

you lean in so your lips are brushing his earlobe

“i want you to strip and lie on the bed with your hands above your head”

when u pull away, he looks at you with his jaw dropped and lust filled eyes

his once icy blues are now dark with desire

he nods quickly and does as he is told

 once he is situated with his hands above his head, you straddle his naked hips and lean over him to tie his wrists, tightly, to the head board

when you pull away you lock eyes with haz

the way he looks at you is with such lust and desire but also love and affection

you know he would only ever trust you to do this to him

you lean down so your lips are just hairs away from yours

you feel his cock underneath you and can tell he’s hard already

you kiss him slowly, parting your lips so your tongues can explore and taste each other

when you pull away you can hear him whine which only makes you chuckle lowly

you look at his cock and then back at him

he pushes his hips up lightly, desperately trying to get some friction

you only decide that his own release can wait

you stand up so you can take off your robe, bra and panties

he groans at the sight of your naked body

there’s no one in the world that compares to you and your glorious body

and he fucking knows it

when you climb back on the bed you situate yourself so that your kneeling above his face with your knees on both sides of his face

you look down at him and whisper seductively “you better make me cum at least twice if you want to cum at all tonight”

and with that you lower yourself onto his face, careful as to not suffocate him

he immediately starts to lap at your pussy, collecting all the juices from your dripping core

bc if were honest you were dripping as soon as you saw him in that suit

he licks up and down thru your folds before he focuses on sucking on your clit harshly

you moan loudly as one hand grips the head board while the other tangles in his sandy locks

when you tug his hair lightly he groans into your pussy sending vibrations thru you that have your whole body trembling

you let out moans of his name with each groan he makes

your orgasm hits you out of nowhere as he continues coaxing you thru it

he then lets go of your clit as his tongue enters you pussy

he starts fucking you with his tongue at such a relentless pace making sure to curl it to hit your g-spot deliciously

“oh fuck haz baby your mouth feels so good. so fucking good. i’m almost there baby fuck i’m so close” you moan out as you squeeze your eyes shut

with each praise of his work and each moan of his name he groans into your entrance causing you to almost double over with how intense your orgasm hits you

as soon as he makes sure your high is finished washing over you, he moves his tongue out of you

you then climb off his face and make your way down his body until your settled on your stomach between his spread legs

his dick is practically purple with how hard he is

the tip leaking precum which you swipe with the pad of your thumb

he watches your actions with such desperation

“darling please stop teasing” he whines

“oh so you can dish but can’t take huh osterfield?” you say with a smirk

“please baby”

“beg for it” you say simply

his eyes go so wide that they look like they might pop out of his head

“w-what?” he stutters

“I said if you wanna cum so badly, beg for it”

you wrap you hand around his length, squeezing lightly just enough to make him squirm in his spot

“please baby, please make me cum, i’ve been so good. I even made you cum twice just like you asked so can you please make me fucking cum?” he whimpers and pleads with you

you give in finally leaning forward to kiss the tip before removing your hand and taking him completely

he hits the back of throat which makes you gag but you don’t pull back

you bob your head up and down a few times before he speaks

“oh fuck! oh fucking hell darling, i’m gonna cum fuck please make me cum”

you hollow your cheeks and focus on sucking the head of his dick

your nails run up and down his thigh while you look up at him thru your lashes locking eyes with him

and just the sight of you taking his cock so well makes him spill into your mouth immediately

you pull off him with a pop and make eye contact with him as you show him that you swallowed every drop of him

you reach up and untie his hands and they immediately pull you into his chest

“baby girl, did you really think you could tease me like that and not have to pay for it?” he growls against your lips 

you giggle and kiss him lightly

“so round 2?”

holy shit i need holy water brb gonna go to church now

[beatleslsd]

Omg can you do a ringo smut where he's has a major humping kink and he's obsessed with her boobs omg and he takes sexy nude pics of her during their steamy session lol

strip for me

word count: 2.2k

summary: ringo has been down because he hasn't been able to have "personal time" with you due to your busy schedule.

*requested*

He was coming back today, it's been months since you've been able to see Ringo, tours always took tolls on your relationship, as it would for anyone. You and Ringo have been married for a year now, and unfortunately, your anniversary fell when he was away, your first anniversary and he was on tour. Obviously, the two of you called, and you sent letters, but it wasn't the same. You knew Ringo was upset about it also, so when he came home it was about pleasing him. Even while he was at home since he was so busy getting ready for the tour, you two had to put off sex, either he was too busy or exhausted, but now he was coming back, and you had things in store for him. How you missed your husband.

You where to meet Ringo at the airport at noon, you decided on wearing something casual not wanting to show up in something that would make the other boys raise an eyebrow. You would play the sweet wife, but you knew what your end goal was.

You played innocently when you greeted the boys, giving Ringo a sweet hug, and a loving kiss, letting him hold you close and tell him how much he missed you. You held onto his hand as you stayed with the boys until Brian released them. You were so anxious to get home.

"You look so beautiful today, love." Ringo complimented, you smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

"Let's get going," you smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He loaded his baggage into a cab after opening the door for you to get it. You smiled to yourself, anticipating yourself for when you got home. Ringo has clearly been upset from not seeing you, and not being as sexually active as you used to be due to his busy schedule. You and Ringo held hands all the way home, you rest your head on his shoulder, cuddling close to him.

"I've missed you, Ritchie," you said once you both finally entered your house.

"I've missed you too, baby." Ringo gave the most beautiful smile you've ever seen, you could have sworn just by seeing it you would melt. "Let me unpack real fast," he gave you a quick kiss on the cheek dragging his bags upstairs, and you groaned.

"Rings," you whined following behind him, craving attention.

"Give me a second love, I got a present for you." He said with a big smile. You tried to look over his shoulder to see what was in his luggage but he stopped you. "Now now now, you gotta wait, doll." He laughed when you pouted, and sat down as he finished unpacking, trying to steal looks here and there but you didn't see anything. You sighed picking up a book from the nightstand waiting for your husband to finish unpacking.

A few minutes after you where reading you felt another weight go onto the bed causing you to look up to see Ringo on the end of the bed with something behind his back, and you gave him a confused look raising your eyebrows.

"I saw this out in one of the shops in America, and I couldn't help but picture you in it." He spoke in a dominate voice, before revealing what was behind his back. It was a set of burgundy lingerie, a lace tulip hem, with a silk bow in between the boob area, and the straps were also a silk material. You gave him a cheeky grin taking the set from him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. You scooted yourself closer to him, tugging on his pants. He quickly unbuttoned his jeans pulling them down, his boxers following.

You smiled up at him, reconnecting your lips fiercely, moving your hand down to his semi-erect dick as your tongues fought for dominance. He shivered at the contact, and you slowly made your hand up and down, taking my time, swirling my hand around his sensitive tip, causing him to release small whimpers into your mouth. You pulled back your faces still close as you let out a gentle laugh.

“I love you,” Ringo said with such an innocent look in his eyes, besides the situation we were in. His puppy blue eyes searched for yours, and you offered a soft smile.

“I love you too Ritchie,” your smile growing as you said the words. You got off the bed, propping yourself up on your knees in front of John, giving him a small kiss on the tip, before taking him slowly in your mouth. You teased him a bit my tongue slowly trailing around the top.

“Please stop teasing darling, I’ve missed you.” You decided since you guys haven’t been able to anything lately, to give into him right away. Due to Ringos size being ‘above average’ you still had to take him in slow, especially since you haven’t had him in a while. You gagged a bit, but you were determined to take him fully. You placed your hands around the area you could not yet fit in your mouth as you bobbled your head. You smiled in triumph when Ringo let out low moans of pleasure, lacing his hands into your hair, moving my head down a bit to take him in further. You gagged once again, but you finally eased your away around his full length.

Ringo wasn’t one for talking during intimate sessions, maybe a few I love yous, and your name would leave his mouth but it was mainly shaky breaths, so when you heard his moans getting louder you knew you were doing a good job. You started to play with his balls, as you continued to suck. He gripped onto your hair harder as your movements became faster. He started to moan your name signifying that he was close. I mischievously removed my mouth from his cock and whined.

“We’ll play more tonight,” you smirked, before exiting the room, leaving a very displeased Ringo. You went downstairs to make dinner for you and Ringo feeling a little bad, but you knew doing so would cause Ringo to be more rough with you tonight, and you need that.

The dinner was quiet, and you left the dinner table early as Ringo continued to eat. You went over to his seat wrapping an arm around his chest, giving a kiss on his cheek. “Meet me in the bedroom once you are done, love.” You said softly in his ear. He smiled and gave you a kiss before continuing to eat. You went upstairs to our room, looking at the lingerie that was placed on the bed. You smirked to yourself slipping on the lace. You looked at me at the full-length mirror, smiling. You put my hair into braided pig-tails knowing that Ringo liked it when you did that.

You heard footsteps coming up the stairs and you hurried and sat down on the bed anticipating myself for Ringo. You heard a hand on the other side of the doorknob, and you looked up innocently at Ringo when he entered the room. “Get the rope out, darling.” He spoke in a dominate voice, the smile not leaving your face as you got up going to the closet to follow his commands the excitement already bubbling up within me. I grabbed the rope from the top shelf which was buried behind some stuff due to use not being able to do anything so it just fell to the back.

Ringo came up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist as he trailed kisses down your neck. “Is this alright, doll?” He questioned, just to be sure, and you nodded right away.

“Of course,” you turned around so you could kiss him, the rope still in your hands.

“Put the rope down, I want you to strip for me first princess.” you smiled up at him, setting the rope on the night table. When you turned back Ringo was already getting undressed, and you lead him to the bed, sitting him down earlier like he was when you were going down on him. I straddled his lap, kissing him forcefully. “Before you get undressed could I take a photo?” Ringo pulled away so he could ask, and I smiled widely.

“Of course baby, let me get the camera.” You replied, getting off of his lap to grab the camera, blushing lightly as you handed it to him. His smile grew as you posed for the camera, feeling a bit awkward even though it was just Ringo, and you have taken plenty of dirty photos for him when he would go on trips or tour. You headed over towards Ringo once he was satisfied with the photos setting the camera by the rope, you straddling him once again. You rubbed yourself up against Ringo’s thigh letting your head fall to his shoulder, kissing his bare skin and sucking lightly, a low growl escaped his mouth as you did so.

“You’ve been a naughty girl,” Ringo spoke, and once again you looked up innocently at him as you slowly began to strip for him, taking your time as he adored and admired your body. You stood up taking down your underwear, your fingerings lingering on your body, Ringo started to play with your breasts causing you to moan in surprise. You unhooked the lingerie so he could play with your bare breasts.

“On the bed, love,” Ringo ordered, and you did as told laying in the middle of the bed on your back your whole body exposed, and Ringo reached over you for the rope. “Tell me if it’s too tight,” he looked at you softly, and you nodded as he started to wrap your wrists up to the bedpost tying the rope tightly so your wrists wouldn’t slip, but not too tight to where it really hurt. “That good?” He questioned, again with a soft look and you nodded. “You’re doing fantastic love, I’m just gonna take another photo.” You smiled up at him and reached down to give you a kiss before getting the camera to once more take a photo of you.

Ringo crawled onto you placing the camera back on the nightstand, and he reattached your lips kissing passionately. The kiss was short lasted, and Ringo started to trail kisses down your body, stopping at your boobs so he could play a bit more with them, putting his mouth around the left one while his hand on the right. Soft whimpers escaped your mouth as he continued to stimulate your breasts.

Once he was satisfied he began to trail kisses down your body once again, his mouth getting dangerously close to your private making you shiver at his touch. His fingers also making its way down, getting wetness from your folds to slip in his fingers, two fingers roamed inside, your back arching with pleasure, and your moans progressively started to get louder as he fingered me and started to eat me out. This went on, him going faster causing you to pull at the ropes feeling yourself get closer just for him to pull out and stop.

“Ritchie,” I whined out, and he let out a laugh.

“Don’t worry princess, unlike you I won’t leave you.” His words making you feel a little bad, but you had no time to think because Ringo was fast, and he entered fast not giving me time to adjust causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure. You could feel mascara mixed in with your tears run down as Ringo continued to go into you fast and hard. You were sure you were quite the sight, legs spread out wide, your arms tired back to either side of the bedpost, with makeup running down, shamelessly moaning out Ringo’s name.

You felt yourself get close to your climax, and you knew Ritchie was close to his. Your walls tightened around his dick, and you whined out his name as he rode out your high, it felt like bliss.

Ringo pulled out quickly, finishing on your stomach, and you rolled your eyes back before closing them still feeling lingering pleasure. “Thank you, love, I needed that,” Ringo said, however, he didn’t untie you yet and you pulled at the rope.

“Give me a second, I want to take one last photo, you look absolutely stunning.” He said reaching for the camera, taking one last photo of you. After setting the camera back down, he untied you, giving you kisses as he did so. He laid down next to you, putting the rope next to the camera, and he turned to you pulling you close, your bare skin in contact which made you feel a little hot.

“Ringo, we have to clean up.” You said, trying to push him off.

“I’ll just put the sheets in the wash in the morning, I want cuddles now, I’ve missed you.” He said softly, once again giving you kisses, and you couldn’t help but smile. You hid your face into his chest, and he chuckled and played with your hair letting you drift off to sleep.