#and you’re like ‘yeah because seeing you sweaty and panting was the highlight of my week’

[a11eya]

kirishima does the thing where he lifts up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and you nearly flatline

[yoichichi]

Phone Sex

18+ MINORS DNI

jean, armin, & eren (sep) x reader

warning(s): slight dom reader, male masturbation, humiliation, degradation, edging, phone sex, crying ig?, self-masturbation mentioned in Jeans but I tried to make it gender neutral, eren calls reader mommy in his but it’s like slightly a joke ,, at first🧍‍♀️

a/n: ANON YOU.... you have a mind of gold. This was a request for reading guiding the boys while they masturbate so this is that! I hope this was what you were looking for anon! :) <3 and as always I love to hear your thoughts so pls send them in 😭 i also did my best to keep the reader neutral when it mentions the reader masturbating !

Jean

When you were woke up at 2 in the morning by a call from Jean, you definitely thought you’d be racing over to his place for some kind of emergency. But when you slid your thumb across the screen and held your phone up to ear, grumbling out a ,“hello?”, instead you were met with whiny, breathy moans, pleading for a different kind of help.

“Baby? You up?” You could barely hear him over his heavy panting.

“Well, I am now.”

It was silent for a few moments while you heard him shuffling around in his bed.

“Do ya need something babe? What’d you call me so late for?” You took an innocent tone to your voice, but you knew exactly what he needed from you.

“Hnng- ah- um, yeah. I - are you - ah - busy?”

You sighed and grumbled for him to give you a second as you moved to lay on your back and put your headphones on,

“You’re sitting there with that pretty cock of yours in your hands, aren’t you? So needy and desperate to cum that you had to wake me up at 2 in the morning just to hear my voice? Aw, I never knew you were such a little slut, Jean.”

Your hands reached down between your legs to slide your bottoms off at the sound of a hoarse whimper from the other end of the phone call, clearly he was caught off guard by your sudden crude words.

“You like that? Being reminded how much of a slut you are for me?”

“Ah - mhm.” You could hear the speed of his hand increasing, and judging by his moans you could tell he was getting close.

“Look at you, all worked up and already about to make a mess of yourself. Wanna cum baby? Tell me how bad you want it.” You hummed as you brought your fingers down to play with yourself, now throbbing with need from the sound of Jeans moans; which were filled with the obvious longing to be fucking you or your dirty mouth instead of his fist.

“Oh god, I want it so bad, only you - fuck - only - oh god, baby please lemme cum.” You could see him now, a panting sweaty mess with his large hand wrapped around his cock. He was probably bucking up into his hand, the other one fisting the sheet while he tried to ground himself and wait for your permission, wanting so bad to be good for you. The head of his cock slightly swollen with need and his pretty face all scrunched up with focus.

“Yeah? You wanna cum?”

“Fuck, yes. Please?”

“Awww, what a good boy. Go on and lemme hear you cum then.”

His pretty groan filled your ears before it came out strangled and separated with gasps.

You let him ride out his high a bit longer until he spoke.

“Thank you, babe. Sorry to wake you up.” He had a sense of bashfulness to his voice - not matching the confidence he had earlier to dial you in the first place.

“Mmm, don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me by staying on the line until I cum this time.”

Armin

You’d be lying if you said Armins sniffling coming through the phone didn’t make you smile. You love when he listens to you, even when it’s killing him to do so.

“C-can I, can I keep going?” His voice was so soft and meek you could barely hear him.

He sat with his hand resting at the base of his cock, not squeezing or moving an inch. Every so often he’d run his hand through his hair or let it slide down his chest, brushing past his nipples, desperate for some kind of stimulation.

Every twitch of his cock made the tears resting on his lash line spill and stream down his red cheeks, god you could just imagine it. What you wouldn’t give to be in front of him now and see it for yourself.

“Mhm, but I want you to go nice ‘n slow. You think you can do that for me?” You did your best to keep your tone calm and unwavering, luring him into doing what you wanted, knowing he’s a sucker for receiving your praise.

“Of course I can.” He said it matter of factly, almost appalled that you’d assume he couldn’t do anything you ask of him.

“Well, go on then.”

He hissed at the sensation of his cold, tough hands dragging slowly up his cock, squeezing slightly at the head just to tease himself further - making sure to let an erotic moan slip past his lips to let you know he was going above and beyond for you. Even fondling his balls just to make the desire to cum all that more excruciating, and showing you just how much he could take if it meant being good for you.

“You sound so pretty baby, think you can hold out just a little bit longer for me? You know how much I love listening to you touch yourself, such an angel.”

“Y-yes.” He swallowed thickly - loud enough that you could hear it - knowing how proud of him you were gonna be.

“Good boy.”

Eren

Eren rarely enjoyed phone sex, too needy and demanding to think it was worth it; especially when he could pick you up or come over at any time. So why the hell would he choose to be separated and touch himself while he listened to you over the phone?

But I guess it’s different when he’s at work and only has 30 minutes to ease the strain in his pants and get you off his mind. Which is exactly why he’s calling your contact with a shaky hand as he sits in his car, making sure to park where no one would come to bother him, with the other hand busy pulling out his fat cock previously stuffed and feeling claustrophobic in his jeans - he’s lucky his work apron kept his appearance decent.

He hissed at the way it sprang up against his abdomen, his cock head already angry and swollen. God he hated you, getting him all worked up at work just because he couldn’t stop thinking about bending you over and slamming you so hard you couldn’t do anything but whine and whimper, not even able to get out a coherent sentence about how good he filled you up.

But the moment he heard the ringing falter and your sweet voice greet him , “Hey babe what’s up? Aren’t you at work right now?”, all animosity left his body. A low whimper leaving his lips instead, so desperately wanting your lips wrapped around his cock it was almost agonizing.

“Fuck babe, I need you - oh fuck - I need you to make me cum quick, ah hnngh god -“ he spoke so fast and quiet you almost thought he was in trouble, but judging by the way his voice was getting raspy, and the way it cracked at the end of his sentence, you knew he was perfectly fine.

You sighed and set your highlighter down, knowing you wouldn’t be getting back to your studying any time soon.

“Babe? You there? I -“

“Mhmm, ‘m right here.” You cut him off quickly, gnawing at your bottom lip to the sounds of his quiet pants, knowing he was quickly fisting his cock and probably on his lunch break, needing to finish fast, doing his best to cum as quick as he could, and yet he still needed to call you to help him do that? God what an ego boost.

But, you were busy studying. And rarely do you have him in such a powerless position, why not have some fun with him?

“Okay, I’ll help.” You smiled coyly at his sigh of relief.

“Really babe? Oh my g-“

“But promise you’ll do what I say?”

He was silent for a moment, but he knew he didn’t have much time to protest and really, he was putty in your hands right now. He agreed before he could change his mind, and that’s what led him to the position he was in now.

His cock sensitive to the touch and his hair falling out of his bun, his face flushed and looking slightly a mess with the sweat that was beginning to collect on his forehead.

He probably had but two minutes left on his break and he needed to come, bad.

“Please, Jesus fuck I’ve been listening but god I need to cum. I’m -“

“Okay Eren I hear you,” you giggled for a moment and he felt his stomach drop, you were up to something, “why don’t you ask mommy for permission?”

“What?”

You giggled again at his exclamation and knew he was getting frustrated by the groan he let out, but you were having too much fun, and you wanted to see how far you could push him.

“You heard me, you wanna cum so bad? Call me mommy and beg for it.” You sighed and sat back in your chair. He should’ve expected you to do something to get back at him for bothering you while you were busy, what either of you weren’t expecting though was how quickly he caved.

“Mommy, please.” His voice cracked from the dryness of his throat as he whimpered out his plea, not expecting it to send your stomach into a frenzy.

“God please let me cum, please mommy, please.”

“Y-yeah okay, go on and finish.” You sat in shock as you heard his sweet moans come through the phone, an octave higher than they’d usually be.

“I-, fuck, I gotta go back to work. You really cut it close babe. See you when I get home.” He hung up quickly, hoping it didn’t come off as rude - he just had little to no time to clean himself up before he had to clock back in.

But it didn’t matter cause you were still reeling from the way he so freely whimpered out mommy, and how enticing it sounded coming from him.

Hmm, you had a lot to think about.

———————

THIS IS MY FIRST KINDA DOM READER THING SO PLS GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS YOU KNOW I LOVE THEM and ily it’s been a while since I posted :) <3

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @peachysimp @semisgroupie (I hope it’s ok to tag you it’s kinda subby boys so I thought you might be interested 🧍‍♀️)

[dollslayer]

Artistic Intention

Artist!Steve x Reader

Summary: Steve's doing well in his life drawing class, but a new muse throws him for a loop in the back supply room.

W/C: 2,374

Warnings: NO MINORS, p in v smut, unprotected sex, public sex, breeding kink if you squint, swearing

A/N: Hey! I wrote this for @buckyownsmylife 1st anniversary challenge! I love me a good AU so I chose Artist AU+ exhibitionism. Happy tumblr-versary! I made Steve a shy boi in this lol. If you liked this fic pls reblog/comment!! Check out my other fics too! Cheers!

Main Masterlist

It’s 1:45pm and Steve is desperately trying to weave his way through the crowd of people before him. His art folio hits everyone and thing as he makes feeble attempts to apologize to everyone for the bulkiness of the case. He can’t be too apologetic though, he’s running late for his 2pm life drawing class and if he doesn’t make it the professor will close the door in his face.

This is the longest 15 minutes in Steve’s life, he figures. He finally makes it up the steps and jogs up the stairs. His folio hits his leg, he winces but doesn’t stop, he’s only got a few minutes to make it up to the second floor and get himself situated behind an easel. He’s nearly out of breath when he makes it to the second floor and he’s trying to check his watch while running for the door. Two minutes.

Steve bursts through the doors and exhales loudly, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so relieved. His feeling of relief is short lived and quickly replaced with embarrassment as he realizes every pair of eyes in the room is on him. Every pair except for one. The new model for class this week, you slowly turn your head to reveal sharp eyes and a coy smile. He feels himself blush under your gaze and mutters an apology before getting settled in an easel directly in front of you.

He tries his best to focus on getting his paper and charcoals set out in an effort to shrug off the mixture of humiliation and lingering anxiety he had about being late. He feels his heartbeat begin to steady and he lets himself relax a little bit.

“Good afternoon, everyone. We have a new model in class this week, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. She’ll be keeping her current pose for one hour and repositioning for the second half of class. Mr. Rogers, since you had no problem running late I assume you’ll have no problem staying late as well. You’ll clean up after class.” The professor concludes with a short nod.

Steve sighs but nods his head in acknowledgement. He catches you smirking in amusement again at him and he can’t help but to blush all over again. He feels just like he did in high school, embarrassing himself in front of pretty girls. He sighs and picks up a piece of charcoal.

Steve decides to get a proper look at you and almost regrets it when he chokes on his own breath. You’re gorgeous, you’re coy and charming, you’re a muse. He’s still blushing because you’re naked, and beautiful and the feeling of humiliation hits him even more. He’s been in this class before, he knows the models will be naked but none of them had ever caught his attention as more than a subject, none of them were you.

He takes his time admiring your natural curves and appreciates your figure. You are so full of natural beauty, your bare face is perfectly flawed and the sun shining through the window highlights your skin tone. He can see why you were chosen to model for class, you’re perfect. He has to discreetly adjust himself and shuffles his jacket into his lap as he feels his pants tighten. He’s flustered all over again and realizes everyone else is already ahead of him. He puts charcoal to paper and gets to work.

____

As class goes on Steve’s sketch is coming along nicely. He can’t bring himself to look at you for more than a few seconds at a time for fear of getting hard again. When he sends furtive glances your way he catches you looking back at him with that smile of yours. He swears at one point you raise an eyebrow at him like you’re amused by him. He brushes it off and keeps drawing.

Class comes and goes much faster than he anticipated. He wants to pack up and get out as quickly as he can when he remembers that he has to clean up the room. He lets out a groan and waits for everyone else to leave. Now it’s only you, him, and the professor who are left in the room.

“Mr. Rogers I’ve got to get out of here, I trust you can put easels away without incident?” The professor asks. Steve nods and the professor turns to you. “Thank you for your work today, you can collect your pay from the front office. I look forward to having you as a model for this class.”

You smile and nod, waving goodbye to him. By now you’ve slipped on a robe and are reaching for your bag but it feels like you’re lingering. It’s just now that Steve realizes the two of you are alone. He swallows thickly, trying not to pay attention to you out of the corner of his eye. He begins to pack away his own drawing but not before giving it one final assessment. He can’t help himself from his own critical eye, analyzing mistakes and appreciating triumphs.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

Steve jumps in surprise, you’re peering right over his shoulder. He’s caught off guard by your presence and also by your voice, do you always sound this sultry?

He swallows and nods before taking a deep breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans he turns to face you.

“Uh, yeah. Yes it is. I don’t think it’s very good but I’m trying” He anxiously starts making excuses, assuming you hate it.

But you don’t. You just smile thoughtfully at him and nod.

“It’s good. At least, I think it is.”

“Th-thanks, thank you.”

“Do you always cut it that close or were you just hoping to stay late with me?”

Steve sputters at your boldness. He has to remind himself that he’s not that scrawny, measly kid he used to be. But he can’t help but feel like he is with his sweaty palms and short breaths.

“I, I um, I didn’t realize there’d be a new model. Was kind of expecting the old one. Not- not that there’s anything wrong with you, of course! I, sorry I didn’t mean to imply that, you’re- you’re beautiful too, you’re perfect really, I just. Oh jesus.” He spews the words out faster than his brain can keep up and he’s making a complete fool of himself.

He can’t bear to look at you, so he starts closing up easels and stacking stools. He doesn’t notice you ogling his muscles through his tight t-shirt.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask innocently.

“I-, um, yes. I think you’re very beautiful, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Steve answers honestly.

He moves some stools to the large supply room in the back of the classroom and you follow him.

“I think you’re beautiful too. And cute. You’re practically falling all over yourself, it’s sweet”

Are you talking to him? He still sees himself as he was back then, having a hard time thinking that anyone would look at him and find him attractive. It’s why he’s so beside himself now. You’re so completely beautiful and self-assured, there’s no way you’re talking to him. He sets down the stack he’s carrying and realizes you’re much closer than he thought. You’re inches away.

“What do you like the most about me? Is it my body? Don’t think I didn’t notice you readjusting your pants at the beginning of class.” You move even closer and Steve thinks you must be able to hear his heart beat because it’s about to come right out of his chest.

Your hands are on his chest and you have to lean up on your tip-toes for your lips to meet his ear.

“What do you say? You and me in this supply room? There’s hardly anyone here. Come on”

Steve feels like he’s dreaming, he has to check if he is. But then your hand reaches for his dick through his pants and he nearly doubles over from the sensation. He’s never been with anyone so brash and confident, your touch leaves a burning trail on his body.

“But- but what if someone comes in and sees?” He says, using every last bit of coherent reasoning he has.

“Isn’t that what makes it so fun?”

Oh, God. You. You. Smiling that devilish smile at him. He was weak in the knees and you took the opportunity to push him backwards onto a spare desk. You pulled him by the shirt collar to meet your lips and he let out a noise of surprise. Steve pushes his tongue into your mouth and lets out an obscene moan. You feel so good. He knew you’d feel good but not this good.

Steve’s large hands come to your waist and venture lower until he has a handful of your ass and grabs. You let out a little moan and nudge your knee between his legs and he grinds against it. You pull back to catch your breath when your hands go to the ties of your robes.

“We’re a little overdressed, don’t you think?”

Steve doesn’t need to be asked twice as he pulls his shirt over his head. Jeans have never felt so uncomfortable and he’s frantically trying to get himself down to his boxers. He swears he goes slack jawed when he looks back up at you. He’s already seen you naked, he just stared at you naked for hours, but you’re just as gorgeous as before but it’s the way you’re looking at him. Like he’s desirable, almost like he’s a piece of meat. It makes him feel wanted and reassured and he feels himself grow harder.

Your hands slip beneath the elastic of his boxers and slowly slide them down his legs. He can’t help but flush when you let out a small gasp at the size of him. He doesn’t want to get too big of an ego with it but he’s always known he was… gifted.

Before he can let anything go to his head he lets out his own soft gasp as you stroke him languidly. He can’t control his hips as they cant up into your hand. You grab his hand and quickly lead his fingers to your dripping pussy. Steve nearly melts when he feels how wet you are and slides two fingers in easily. He’s pumping them in and out and you let out tiny mewls as you kiss his neck.

There’s no more time for preamble though, you two need to be quick if you don’t want to be caught by some unfortunate custodian. You remove your hand from his cock and he takes his fingers out of your pussy and swears you whine a little. Feeling brazen himself, he makes direct eye contact with you and sucks his fingers clean. You bite your lip and squirm while he revels in the taste.

Reluctantly he takes his fingers out of his mouth and gets up to situate you so you’re sitting on the desk. You spread your legs wide for him and he takes in the sight, committing to memory. Maybe he can draw you like this some time. For now he takes a step closer but falters, remembering one fatal flaw in this whole plan.

“I… don’t have a condom”

You don’t look let down at all, you look excited in fact. Shaking your head, you explain to him.

“Doesn’t matter, ‘m on the pill. I wanna feel you cum inside me”

Steve might pass out before he gets the chance, the way you keep talking with that mouth of yours. He wastes no more time and positions himself at your entrance. He has one hand on his dick and the other on the back of your neck when he looks you deep in the eye and impales you fully in one go.

The moan you let out is pornographic and Steve uses his newly freed hand to cover your mouth.

“We have to stay quiet. Can you do that?”

You nod silently and he removes his hand, opting to grab your hip instead.

He pulls back and begins to start pumping into you. He’s steady at first, trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly. Slowly he starts increasing his speed and the force that he uses is causing the legs of the old desk to scrape against the floor.

Your hand reaches and grabs his ass, pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel so tight wrapped around him with no barrier and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out. You’re trying to keep your moans quiet when he kisses you to silence them all together. He’s trying with all his might not to cum before you do.

His fingers find your clit and he starts rubbing it in tight circles. You have a harder time keeping quiet and you’re squeezing him like a vice. The friction on your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot perfectly is causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

��‘M gonna cum, please. Please don’t stop” You beg. Steve feels a wave of power surge over him now that you’re the needy one.

“Go on then, I’m not far behind ya. Wanna feel your pussy cum on my cock.”

With a few moments more he has you seeing stars and you claw at his back and pull him close to you. He continues on in his movements and starts pounding into you in earnest chasing his own release. All you can do is hold on for dear life.

Steve makes one final thrust before he’s cumming deep inside you. The rush of warmth is welcome to you and you kiss his jaw as he tries to catch his breath. The only sound being both of your heavy breathing. Hopefully no one heard you.

Steve can’t believe what just happened. He met a gorgeous girl and she propositioned him in a public place all in the span of two hours. He realizes just how far he’s come from who he used to be. He looks down at you, your noses touching.

“So, what’s your name?”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 23

A/N:  *sings* Taaaake me to church...

February 25th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was officially 22 years old.  

Despite all the events of yesterday, she was happy.  She had a few texts from friends and some Instagram notifications already waiting for her when she woke up, and they put her in a good mood.  Her parents called her as she was putting on her makeup, and talked to her until she left to get breakfast downstairs.  She already knew she would FaceTime Siena after practice when they got back to the hotel.

When she got downstairs to the continental breakfast, some of the guys were already there, and she knew everyone else was on their way.  Jake was already there, wishing her a happy birthday at the scrambled eggs.  Mitch was there too, who poured her some orange juice as he wished her a happy birthday as well.  Jason said she should be sitting down at the table while everyone else got her the food she wanted.  She giggled.

Willy and Kappy arrived together.  Kappy wished her a quick happy birthday before he started to get his food.  Willy lingered by her.  “You talk to your parents yet?”

“They called me this morning, yeah.”

“Siena?”

“We’re FaceTiming after practice.”

William nodded his head understandingly.  “Happy birthday,” he smiled softly.

She smiled equally as softly.  “Thanks.”

“You gonna be blasting that Taylor Swift song or what?” Travis Dermott asked he appeared beside them, plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon.  “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-twoooOooOOOooo!” he sang aloud in a horrible high-pitched voice, definitely trying to mimic Taylor Swift but of course failing miserably.

William set down his plate and put his hands over his hears dramatically.  Travis began dancing while trying not to have the bacon spill over his plate.  Aberdeen couldn’t help but laugh.  “Were you doing that when you turned 22?” she asked.

“You bet!  That song was on a 24 hour loop,” he smiled.

“Poor Kat.”

“She lived.  So what’s your birthday wish?”

“For you guys to win tonight,” she winked.

“We can make that happen,” he winked back.  “Can’t we, Willy?”

“My ear drums burst after your awful singing.  What did you say?”

“I said WE CAN WIN TONIGHT, CAN’T WE?” he yelled so loud other patrons in the eating area looked towards them.  

Aberdeen shielded her face and William turned completely around so they couldn’t see his face.  “You’re the worst, pal,” William said to Travis.  “And by the way,” he shifted focus to Aberdeen, “we’re definitely winning the game tonight.  For you and only you.  Bust also so that we don’t have to hear any more of that.”

***

“Did the boys promise you they’d win for your birthday?” Brendan asked Aberdeen as they walked together through the halls to their box for the game.  

“They did,” she nodded.  “This morning at breakfast.”

“Think they’ll be able to do it?” he asked.  They both flashed their credentials to the security guard who let them through easily.  Aberdeen could even see Kyle down at the other end of the hallway waiting.  

She shrugged her shoulders.  “I hope so.  It would be kind of nice.”

“No hoping,” Brendan shook his head.  “Do you have faith they can win the game tonight for your birthday?” he asked again, his voice sterner.

“Yes,” she answered automatically, nodding her head.  She did have faith in them.  She had faith that William would probably show off tonight like he showed off when Siena was in the building in Ottawa, but she wasn’t exactly going to vocalize that out loud.  “Do you?”

He took a moment to think about it as he looked at her.  It wasn’t an automatic reaction like hers was.  “Yes,” he finally said.  “Because I know how much they adore you.”

***

“Look at him fuckin’ go,” Kyle said with a giant smirk on his face as he watched the replay of William’s goal.  It was beautiful.  The Leafs were on a powerplay and he was sitting pretty right in front of the net.  After a feed from Mitch not going exactly where he wanted it go, William ended up sneaking it in between his legs and putting it in the net, top shelf.  Bardown.  Beautiful.

“He just surpassed his dad in goals not even two weeks ago and now this.  Now he’s just showing off,” Brendan giggled, looking at the replay himself.  

Aberdeen watched replay after replay.  “This is absolutely unbelievable by Nylander” she heard the announcer say as he broke down the play and the goal.  She was so enamoured by the coverage and the breakdown and the smile on his face at the end of it that she almost didn’t notice what Brendan whispered to Kyle.

“Think he’s showing off for someone?”

***

Brendan made sure he and Aberdeen took their time walking down to the locker room after the 4-3 win.  He made sure to have his cell phone constantly in his hand, waiting for the right text to come through.  He made sure that when he did, he hurried down there with her tagging along.  

Aberdeen followed Brendan into the locker room.  Brendan nodded at Sheldon.  Sheldon nodded at him.  

“Alright boys!  Everyone get in here!” Sheldon yelled out to the team.  Everyone settled down and came back in the locker room, either standing or sitting in their stalls, their gear half on or half off and their hair still sweaty from the game.  Brendan and Aberdeen were in the back, standing just in front of one of the entrances, making sure not to block Jack Campbell’s view.  “We came back hard tonight.  We showed them what we were made of.  We held them off in the third period.  We stuck with our game.  Willy with that game winning goal that I’m sure is gonna be on every highlight reel this season,” Sheldon smiled, and some of the boys clapped and whooped for him.  “It was a good fight.  It was a good…hey…hey wait.  Where’s Spezza?” he asked, furrowing his brows.  “Where’s Spezz?”

Everybody began looking around the room.  Even Aberdeen started looking.  “Spezz?” Tyson asked really loudly.  

Silence.  

And then…

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Aberdeen saw Jason walk into the locker room carrying a giant slab cake, with 22 candles lit up throughout.  It started with just his voice, but as the words dragged on, more voices joined.  She saw giant smiles on the entire locker room’s faces as they sang along, and she immediately covered her face in embarrassment, getting way too emotional.  Even the cameraman that they sometimes brought on road trips to film content for Blueprints was filming her.  

“Haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu…Haaapppy Biiirthdaaayyy dear Aaaaaaaberdeeeeeeeeeen, haaaaaaaaaappy biiiiiiirthday to yoooooouuuuu!”

The entire locker room began cheering and clapping loudly.  Aberdeen couldn’t believe it.  She shook her head at everything that was happening – the cake, the singing, the filming, the shit-eating grins on everyone’s faces, particularly Jason’s and Brendan’s – and blew out her candles in one big blow, causing everyone to cheer even louder than before.  She knew she had an embarrassed look on her face – because she truly wasn’t expecting anything like this – but she was so grateful for the gesture.  Her eyes were even tearing up, though she didn’t know why.  

“Aberdeen, I think I speak for everyone when I say we wish you a very, very happy birthday in your twenty-second year of life,” Brendan began.  “You came into our lives in September, and since then, we’ve grown more and more in love with you, your outfits, the books you bring on the plane…” he motioned with his hands for the guys to pitch in.

“Your no-nonsense attitude!” Jason contributed.

“Your rockstar Halloween costumes!” Travis yelled.

“Your Willy fashion roasting!” Kappy yelled.

Everybody laughed.  Brendan laughed too before focusing back on her.  “From the streets of good ol’ Etobicoke to 50 Bay Street…you’ll always be part of the Maple Leafs family, Aberdeen.  Always.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat.  She nodded her head.  Those were some very kind words from a very powerful man, and she knew just how much they meant.  And the fact that he was saying it in front of the team meant so much more.  She thought it would be over and done with, but Kappy and Travis had other plans.  “Speeeeeeeech!  Speeeeeeeech!” they chanted.  “Speeeeeeeeeech!” everyone else followed, expecting it like she’d just won an Oscar.

(Maybe she deserved one, since she’d been sneaking around with William and nobody seemed to be the wiser.)

“There’s not a lot I’m gonna be able to say without crying,” she said, still shaking her head.  She was still very well aware that the cameraman was still recording.  “But seriously, thank you guys so much.  This means a lot to me, considering how much of a family we are here.  You guys, I…I can’t say enough about you guys.  Honestly.  But for how much you might love me, I hope you guys know how much I love you all too…”

The guys began clapping when they realized she really couldn’t say anything else because she would have gotten emotional.  But it was Brendan who spoke and eliminated the feeling by screaming “ONE MORE TIME!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY ABERDEEN!”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!” they all rushed towards her screaming, engulfing her in a giant mob as she screamed at the fact that twenty-plus men were about the crowd her like she was a fellow hockey player.  The only one who didn’t was Jason so he could save the cake.  Thank God.

“The gift!”

“Where’s the gift?!”

“Somebody get the gift!!!”

Aberdeen furrowed her brows.  Mitch ran from where Jason had come from, hockey pants and socks still on, and brought out a giant box from the back.  He placed in right in front of Aberdeen.  “What did you guys do?”

“We started thinking about it at the beginning of the month—” Kasperi began, but Jason quickly cut him off.

“—Jen and Bee said we should get you something.  But I mean we all thought of the idea of what to get you,” he said, throwing a look towards Kappy.  “John went out and bought it, but like we all pitched in.”

Aberdeen kept unwrapped until she tore a part of the wrapping paper and saw the Louis Vuitton logo on the box.  She gasped out loud.  She didn’t care that everybody in the room was watching her at this point.  “Whaaaaaaat did you guys do?!” she shrieked, ripping off the paper even quicker now.  When the wrapping paper was off and she opened the box, she gasped dramatically.  Everybody had pitched in to buy her a Louis Vuitton Keepall Bandoulière carry-on bag in the damier azur canvas colour.  “Are you for real?!” she asked, delicately moving the tissue paper to the side and taking the luggage bag out of the box.

“You like it?” Jason was smiling at her reaction.

“Now we all match with our Louis Vuitton!” Auston winked.

“Yeah, and now you can’t make fun of my fashion anymore!” William yelled.

“Oh yes I can,” Aberdeen replied automatically, not even looking at him – still admiring her new bag too much.  “Seriously—I—what made you all decide you were going to get me Louis freaking Vuitton?”

“You roasting Willy’s fashion choices, actually,” Jason laughed out.  Brendan laughed too.  “Just thought you deserved something nice too, for putting up with us all the time.”

“I’m still making fun of Willy’s fashion choices,” she deadpanned.

“We figured.”

Aberdeen didn’t know who cut the cake.  All she knew was that she was handed a piece once she was done groveling over her new bag.  She didn’t know when the music started playing.  All she knew was someone took her phone and started blasting her Spotify, and a weird variety of songs came on: “Vossi Bop” by Stormzy, which most of the guys vibed to; “Dancing Queen” by ABBA, because of course; and “(Dancin’) On A Saturday Night” by Barry Blue, which caused Tyson to grab her and start dancing with her comically.  The guys were eating cake and taking off their gear.  The media was still peeking in though their time and interviews had long gone.  She wondered if they got pieces of cake.

When everything was said and done, everybody loaded onto the bus to get back to the hotel.  She still had a stupid smile on her face as everyone filed in, carrying the box in her hands like a party-size pizza.  She put it onto the seat beside her before taking out her phone to respond to some of the last messages she got from her friends, and saw some notifications that piqued her interest.  

@kristenshilton: Leafs are celebrating a birthday in the locker room after their Tampa game.  Cake and everything.  I’m told that it’s chocolate.

@kristenshilton: ‘Vossi Bop’ by UK rapper Stormzy is playing.  Nylander tells me, “It came up on Aberdeen’s phone.  It’s her birthday.  We promised we’d win the game for her.”

Aberdeen Bloom, in question: Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.

Aberdeen wondered if this was the first time her name had been put out there by the media.  She honestly had never searched her name on Twitter before so she had no clue.  Now that it was out in the open, what would happen?  What would Brendan say?  Would he want it out there?  She didn’t have the answers.  The only thing she knew was that it didn’t matter right now, because it was her 22nd birthday.  She could deal with it later – if she even needed to deal with it.

She went through her unanswered texts and Instagram messages thanking everybody for their birthday wishes.  Just as she was about the locker her phone again, she opened her email inbox, noticing a few spam emails from sites she’d signed up for.  

But one in particular caught her eye.  She opened it immediately.  

Dear Ms. Bloom,

Thank you for your submission to the “Memoirs” section of Toronto Life.  We have read your essay “Maple Leaf For…Now” but regret to inform you that our team of editors has decided not to publish the essay.  We thank you for your time and submission.

Best regards,

Sandy Miller, Senior Editor at Toronto Life Magazine

She immediately closed the email.  She didn’t need to read it twice.  She didn’t need to dwell on the feeling of being rejected.  Again.  

It was a quick drive back to the hotel.  She followed everybody up to their respective floors and rooms, getting some final happy birthdays before she opened her own door and escaped into her own room.  She put the giant box next to her luggage – she’d wonder how she was going to handle the packing tomorrow.  She took her phone out of her pocket, seeing a text from William already.  

i’ll let u know when i’m coming maybe 20-30 mins?  the guys are pretty hyped and i want to make sure they’re in bed

Ok.  No problem.

brendan was right tonight u know we all fell in love with u from the beginning i hope u know that

😇

She waited patiently yet impatiently.  During the time she was waiting for him, she’d washed off all her makeup, took a quick shower, and even changed into her pajamas.  She debated whether or not she should greet him with a sheetmask on, but then she figured that it was her birthday and he’d probably want to kiss her all night, so she decided against it, even as a joke.  There was no way she’d waste a sheet mask.  

She was sitting on her bed scrolling through her phone when she got the text from Willy.  She prepared herself, and when she heard the slight knock on her door, she practically jumped out of bed and ran to the door.  She opened it quickly.  “Hey,” she smiled, closing the door behind him, even locking it for good measure.

“Hey.”

“What a goal tonight, Will!” she giggled as he got closer, wrapping his arms around her.  

“For you,” was all he said.  He apparently didn’t want to talk hockey – regardless of how pretty his goal was – or waste any more time.  He just began kissing her.  Big, open-mouthed, passionate kisses as he walked them towards her bed, falling on top of it when it reached the back of Aberdeen’s knees.  Like many times before, they were making out like teenagers; they couldn’t help it.  William found her insatiable, and Aberdeen found him just as much, if not more insatiable.  She snaked her hands underneath his hoodie and took it off, leaving him shirtless.  He did the same to her, leaving her topless in her bed.  

“Aberdeen?” he mumbled against the skin between her breasts after what felt like hours of kissing, touching, and grinding against each other’s bodies.  

“Yeah?” she managed to get out, though she could feel how hot her body was.

“Can I taste you?”

“Huh?” she blurted out in the most vulgar way that was humanly possible, completely embarrassing herself.  She was sure William was going walk out the door right now and never turn back.

William snorted.  “Can I taste you?” he asked again, slower, with a dumb smile on his face as he looked up at her.  

“I…I…” her chest began to heave slightly.  “I mean…okay.  But um…I’ve never…” she kept trying to find the right words, but when she thought about what she actually needed to say, it just made her more embarrassed and more prone to stutter out her response.  “I mean, I’ve never had…you know, anyone go down on me before.”

William stopped, furrowing his brows.  “Wait…you’ve…you’ve never—”

“No.”

“You haven’t been eaten out before?”

“No.”

William seemed shocked.  “But you…you’ve had boyfriends…?”

“Yes, Will.  God.”

“So…” he was trying to piece everything together.  “That guy I met, Zane or whatever his name was…he never ate you out in the entire year you dated?” he asked.  Aberdeen shook her head.  “What kind assholes did you date?” he shrieked.

“Arrrrrggghhhhh,” Aberdeen grumbled, covering her face with her hands in complete embarrassment.  “This is so embarrassing!”

“Noooo no no no, come on, it’s okay,” William kept repeating and cooing as he pushed himself back up, one hand placing itself on her stomach to caress the skin there and on her sides while he leaned on his other arm.  “Aberdeen, come on.  It’s okay.”

“Is it though?  Is it really?” she was peeking through her fingers like a kid.

“Of course it is,” he assured her.  “It means I get to be the first one.”  Aberdeen removed her hand from in front of her eyes so she could give him a look.  “Was there a reason why it never happened?”

Aberdeen shrugged.  “I mean…I’ve always been a bit self-conscious about it.  Like about how I’d react or how I’d, like…taste,” she used his own words.  “But Zane said he didn’t like to go down on girls, so I sort of never, like, asked for it.  He was like that from the beginning.  And I felt embarrassed to ask if I was just gonna get shot down.  I mean…I wanted to try it.  He just never would.”

“Did you give him blowjobs?”

Aberdeen knew she shouldn’t be getting uncomfortable, because she was with William and she was comfortable with him and trusted him completely, but it was a direct line of questioning she wasn’t used to.  Though she talked about her hookups or past boyfriends with Siena or people like Kasha, she didn’t go into extreme depth like that.  “Yeah…a whole bunch of them, actually…” she admitted.

She watched as William shook his head, getting angry.  “That guy was a fucking asshole, and I’ll look through every stupid fucking cubicle in the city if I have to so I can punch him in the face for you.”

Aberdeen let out a sigh, running her fingers through his hair to push it back.  “Does that make me lame?  Be honest.”

“No, minskatt.  It does not make you lame,” William asserted.  He brought his hand up to caress her face, and trailed his fingers up to her new scar just above her eyebrow.  He touched it delicately and she didn’t wince.  “Listen…I want to taste you.  I want to make you feel good,” he continued softly.  “I know you’re nervous.  It’s okay.  I promise that I’ll go slow, okay?  And I’ll stop whenever you tell me to stop.”

Aberdeen was nervous – perhaps more nervous than she’d ever been – but she nodded her head.  “Okay,” she said.  

“You’re sure?” William confirmed with her one more time.

“Yeah,” she nodded again.  “I’m sure.  Just…go slow.”

He’d heard her request those words before.  “I will, minskatt.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Willy.”

He began kissing her again, trying to get her as comfortable and relaxed as possible – how she was before he proposed the idea.  They kissed again for a long time, William making sure he could sense her comfortability before he began to move down, running his lips and tongue down to her chest.  His lips left her skin only to take off her pajama pants and underwear, slipping them off slowly at the same time before discarding them to the side.  He could feel her shiver.  “You alright?” he asked.  She nodded her head.  “I’m going to make you feel great, I promise.”

“You better.”

They both giggled slightly.  “Just tell me when to stop if you want me to stop.”

“Okay.”

He continued to kiss his way down her body, eventually spreading her legs open and settling in between them.  He could feel her take a deep breath, so he kissed some more – along her belly button, her hips, on the insides of her thighs.  When he did that, there was another shiver.  “Minskatt?”

“What?” she asked, like she was having trouble even getting the word out.

“Hold my hand.”

Aberdeen looked down.  Seeing his face in between her thighs was quite the sight to behold.  She grabbed onto one of his hands and intertwined their fingers.  She could feel his thumb rubbing her hand assuredly.  She didn’t think the first flick of the tongue to taste her was coming so soon.  But as she felt his tongue along her folds, she flinched slightly out of surprise more than anything, squeezing his hand.  “Oh fuck,” she sighed out, her hips bucking.  

With his free arm, he pushed gently back on to the bed.  “Was that okay?” he asked, his mouth still dangerously close to her lips so that when she spoke, she still felt them move against her.  She nodded quickly.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she said firmly, her response automatic.  “K—Keep going.  It felt good.”

Aberdeen looked down, only to make eye contact with him before he dived in again.  Her eyes rolled to the back as William continued lapping at her, making her feel better and better with each stroke of his tongue.  Soon, there were no nerves anymore – no worries about how she tasted or how she’d never done this before – and her body was doing the talking, squirming and writhing and sighing, her little oh fuck and oh my god comments the fuel William wanted, needed, to keep doing what he was doing.  He did everything – quick flicks of the tongue, long laps from bottom-to-top, top-to-bottom, and sucking and licking like he was drinking a thick milkshake, making sure Aberdeen got the full experience.  

Her moans were his music.  At one point she had let go of his hand so she could bunch the bedsheets in her fists.  He could hear her huffs and sighs.  “S’at feel good?” he asked quickly.

“God, yes,” Aberdeen whispered, her voice so soft and so full of innocence at the new feeling of it all that William almost came himself right then and there.

“You taste so sweet for me, Aberdeen.  You’re so sweet and it’s all for me,” he said, his voice low and full of lust and Aberdeen almost came right then and there.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck, Willy,” she couldn’t say much more.  When he lapped at her with his flat tongue immediately after, she instinctively went to grab and tug on his hair.  He’d made it a personal goal that he would make her come with just his tongue, and his groan in response and the vibration from it made her whimper.  “Willy—I—Willy—”

He did it again, and she cried out.  With his face so firmly planted on her pussy and with her tugging at his hair and making sure he stayed down there, the feeling was almost too much, but she knew she wanted him to keep going.  She knew she wanted the build-up.  She knew she wanted it to last as long as it could – as long as was physically possible for Willy – because this was, perhaps, the best feeling she’d ever felt.

The fact she was getting louder made Willy know she was enjoying it.  She’d moved on from squirms to moans, and now from moans to audible cries, words frantic and scarcely used but enough so that he knew he was doing a good job and she wanted him to keep going.  He kept up his movements so he could keep hearing her, the tugging of his hair bringing him the same kind of pleasure as he was currently giving her.  

Then Aberdeen went a bit quiet.  William didn’t like that.  He looked up at her as he was still licking and noticed she was staring up at the ceiling.  He squeezed her hand to get her attention.  “You okay?”

She looked down and saw how wet his lips were – how her juices were all over his mouth, really, and she could have fucking cried.  It was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen.  “I feel really close,” she whispered, her voice strained.  She’d been moaning and crying out for so long that he was surprised she even had one left.  “I—fuck Willy—I feel so close.”

William wanted to make sure any part of her that was still holding back – if there was any left – didn’t hold back at all.  He made sure he was making eye contact with her.  “Come all over my face Aberdeen.  Come for me.  Now.”

Aberdeen had never been so turned on.   He lapped and sucked once more and within seconds she was a screaming, writhing mess.  She couldn’t be quiet.  It was impossible.  As her orgasm overcame her, flooding her entire body with pleasure, she tried to stop her legs from clamping together and squeezing William’s head in between her thighs.  He didn’t care.  William moved with each squirm, each scream, each buck of the hips, never once taking his mouth off her pussy as she came long and hard and completely, not once.  She screamed and huffed and moaned until she couldn’t anymore, until her throat was dry.  When she felt herself finally coming down from her orgasm – earth-shattering orgasm, really, if we’re being specific – she looked down at saw William already looking at her, smiling, her juices all over his lips and face, and she knew it was a sight that would be permanently etched in her mind.  

When Aberdeen regained basic consciousness, she could feel William kissing the insides of her thighs again as he was chuckling slightly.  He kissed his way back up to her, and when his lips landed on hers, she let out her last moan she had in her as she tasted herself on his lips.  “You taste incredible,” he said once they finished kissing, looking right into her eyes as he licked his lips.

“I can’t believe that was what I was missing this entire time,” she said.  “Zane’s a fucking asshole.”

William chuckled louder this time, nuzzling himself into her neck as he placed light butterfly kisses there.  “I told you,” he said.  “It felt good for you?”

She nodded.  “It felt incredible.  I’m serious.  You’re going to turn me into one of those nymphomaniacs.”

“What did you like the most?”

“All of it,” she said immediately, because it was true.  There was absolutely nothing that she didn’t like.  As she felt his body rest beside hers, his lips still lingering on the skin of her neck, she could feel his erection.  She turned a bit so she could look him in the eye, kissing him quickly.  “D’you want me to take care of that?”

“No no,” he shook his head.  She didn’t understand, especially since he was rock hard.  She couldn’t believe him going down on her made him so aroused.  “This is all about you.  I’ll take care of it.”

“Willy—”

“It’s okay, minskatt.  I’ll take care of it,” he said, giving her a kiss before rolling over and getting off the bed.  She watched as he disappeared into the washroom and closed the door behind him.  She couldn’t think of anything else to do, laying in the bed completely naked thinking about what had just happened, until she thought to grab her underwear and put them back on.  She kept herself topless though, as maybe a little treat to William, as she went back to thinking about the feeling of his tongue on her folds, shivering as she remembered.

William was in there for a while before he came back out, seemingly having taken care of it, and climbed back into bed with her.  He placed kisses on her breasts and nipples before moving to her neck and finally her lips, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closed against his body.  He was topless, too, but kept his boxers on.  “I love you, minskatt,” he whispered.

“I love you too Willy,” she said, his body heat and warmth she felt lulling her to sleep so quickly.  “Thank you for being my first for that.”

He smiled.  “The pleasure was all mine.  Go to sleep, minskatt.  Go to sleep.”

***

The next morning, William was still in bed with Aberdeen.  They’d hardly moved, limbs still intertwined and still holding on to each other like the other would float away.  Aberdeen woke up first, her eyes gently opening, noticing and appreciating how close she was to Will.  Instinctively – really, she couldn’t help herself – she brought a hand up to his face, barely touching it with her fingertips.  The stubble along his jawline and cheeks.  The curve of his perfect nose.  His soft, sweet lips.  He was truly so beautiful.  She couldn’t believe he was hers.  She couldn’t believe she was his.  It was a magical thing to wake up in William Nylander’s arms, knowing that he loved her, and knowing that she loved him.  

He shifted slightly, letting her know he was awake – or at least waking up.  “Minskatt?” he mumbled, barely audible, before he even opened his eyes.

“I’m right here,” she said in an equally soft voice.  

He opened his eyes.  He smiled sleepily once he saw how close they were and sighed contently.  “I dreamt we were in Sweden,” he whispered.

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine.  “Yeah?”

He nodded.  “My family was there.  My sisters loved you.  Alex too.  You were sitting by the lake at our house in the country,” he said.  “Your hair was down and you were looking over your shoulder back at me.  It was perfect.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile.  His voice was so soft and his emotion so innocent.  “Tell me more.”

“You had on a pretty dress.  The sky was blue.  So was the water.  We could do what we wanted and nobody cared.  We could be open with our love and it was so beautiful.”

She felt a small pang of guilt at that.  At this point, she knew how bad they both wanted to be out in the open, but life dictated that they couldn’t.  She couldn’t just up and quit her job and lose her income.  They needed to ride out the wave.  It would happen eventually; it just couldn’t happen now.  “I’m sorry that we can’t,” she whispered, caressing his face again.  

“Don’t apologize, minskatt.  We will one day.  You’re still the best thing in my life and always will be.  I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

It was that statement that got Aberdeen emotional.  Here he was dreaming about her in Sweden with him and his family, freely showing their love, but the reality was that couldn’t happen.  Yet he said he would wait forever.  She wasn’t sure about that.  No guy had waited for her before.  “But you’ve been waiting already for so long,” she whispered, her eyes welling with tears.  “Why are you waiting for so long?  Any other guy would have given up and moved on already.  Why haven’t you?”

“Shhh, Aberdeen, stop,” he said, squeezing her tighter.  “Don’t you get—Aberdeen, you’re it for me.  I don’t care that I’m waiting to be out in the open with you.  I will wait however long you want me to, alright?  You’ll always have me.  No matter what happens.  You’ll always have me.”

Aberdeen nodded.  There was nothing she could say to that.  Her heart felt so full at his words.  He’d wait.  He’d wait as long as he needed to.  He loved her.  He adored her.  She was it for him.  “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too Aberdeen.  So much,” he kissed the tip of her nose.

Aberdeen kissed him on his lips, needing to feel them against hers.  Like always, they couldn’t stop.  “Make love to me Willy…before you have to go.”

He did.  It was slow and it was sensual and it was tender and it was everything she could have wanted, needed that morning in bed with him.  And afterwards, when he had to put his clothes on and sneak out back to his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and kissed her.  “Jag tänker på dig när jag inte ens tanker,” he whispered against her lips.

Aberdeen smiled.  She didn’t know Swedish but she knew those words.  They were theirs.  Theirs and only theirs.  Which is why she repeated them back to him.  “I think about you when I’m not even thinking.”

[platypanthewriter]

First Kiss (In the Time Of COVID)

Harringrove April prompt 01 (because I missed it the first time): First Kiss!  Second to last!  Almost there!  Steve gets touch-hungry enough to consider the ridiculous health-organization suggestions about gloryholes, and has sex and then a whole relationship with a man he meets at a bar...before he ever gets to kiss him.

Steve was only at the bar because it was right next to the dry-cleaners with no public bathrooms, but he couldn’t help staring at the New York City Department Of Health Safer Sex Guidelines, posted right on the wall between the sinks as he washed his hands.  

Gloryholes were recommended, it said.  Somebody had highlighted it, and somebody else had smacked a big lipsticked kiss on it, which was definitely not within sanitary guidelines.  Steve stood there like a post, thinking about a hot mouth around his dick, instead of going home to his cold, gray apartment, and yelling weird greetings every morning at his neighbors between balconies, stuff like “You hallucinating yet?  I hear people have been hallucinating!” and “How’re you enjoying solitary?!” 

He thought about being touched by another human being.

He hadn’t really noticed the hole in the wall before, other than kind of wondering why, like, why not make out in the car, even—but COVID changed things.  He bit his lips together, and eased back around to look in the stall again.  It wasn’t that bad, even if the people doing graffiti couldn’t spell.  It was tidy, and there was plenty of toilet paper, so at least the staff were in here regularly, he thought.  The floor wasn’t sticky, or anything.  He leaned to look through the hole, and saw a flash of pink skin, as he heard a scrambling in the next stall.

After a second, the person knocked on the stall wall.  “You stick your cock through there and I’ll suck it,” he said, his voice a little wobbly, like he knew exactly how bizarre this was, and he was trying not to laugh.  

Steve bit back a laugh of his own, snorting into his hand.  “Jesus, I’m not even drunk,” he told the voice, who laughed outright.  

“It’s my fucking lunch hour.  You gonna feed me?”

Steve raised his eyebrows, patting the condom he always, optimistically, carried in his back pocket.  “Now I kinda don’t want to,” he said, and the other guy laughed harder.  “Okay,” Steve said, steeling himself.  “I’m going for it.  Gonna put my cock in this creepy hole.  Don’t bite it off.”  He heard a snort as he checked the expiration date on the condom—he hadn’t had sex in eons, it felt like, and he half-expected to see it had expired in 1492—but it wasn’t even gonna expire soon, so he took it as a positive omen.  

“The hell are you doing, hurry up,” said the other man, shuffling his feet, and Steve rolled his eyes, and the condom onto his dick.

“Sure hope nothing over there’s hungry,” he muttered, taking a deep breath before he stuck his dick in the hole in a bathroom stall, stone cold sober, before noon.  “Hungry for a dick meal.  Ready to bite.”

“I might,” the other guy breathed, laughing, but Steve could feel him brush his lips along the side.  “Mmm, polyisoprene,” he mumbled.

“Suck enough dick you recognize condoms?” Steve asked, snorting a laugh, and felt him laugh along.

“You want an expert, don’cha,” he shot back, taking Steve’s cock on his tongue, and Steve groaned, his body thudding hard against the wall.  It creaked, loud, and the guy pulled off again, laughing.  

“I do,” Steve told him.  “I do, I do, I want an expert, come back, dick-monster.”

“I’m not gonna bite off your dick,” said the guy, snickering again.  

“I don’t even care,” Steve said honestly, “—just lemme come first, jesus—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, slipping Steve’s cock between his lips again, and in, deep down his throat where his muscles clenched around it.  Steve could hear him choking with gusto, and he just leaned against the wall, feeling the first human touch he’d had in months.  

He’d given the pizza guy a tip, ages ago, it seemed like, and the guy’s hand had brushed his, and they’d both stood there, staring at their hands, like maybe Steve oughtta propose marriage, and the guy like maybe he was gonna accept.  They’d said goodbye awkwardly, whipping the hand sanitizer out of their pockets as they turned away, and now Steve couldn’t order pizza without his neck feeling warm.  

The guy eating his dick for lunch was so much better, and Steve longed to touch him, and tip him back in a pile of pillows in the warm afternoon sun.  Take the man back to his bed, bury his hands in warm hair—pull him up the bed and kiss him, maybe—feel the weight of another person on his body.  He clenched his hands on the top of the stall wall, grunting as the hot tongue stroked the bottom of his dick, and the tip pushed against the spongy back of the guy’s throat.  

Steve wasn’t good at talking, really, particularly not when all his attention was on his dick, but he couldn’t grab the man, so he tried.  “God, you’re good at this,” he whispered, his mouth fumbling the words a little, but he thought the idea came through.  “Jesus, you’re amazing.  Christ.  God, your mouth.  I bet you’re beautiful, holy shit,” he rambled.  “Even if you’re not beautiful, you’re beautiful, holy crap, I wanna kiss you.”  

The guy pulled back a couple times, then all the way off, coughing and trying to breathe.  “Sorry,” he gasped, clearing his throat.  “Sorry—”

“Take your time, buddy,” Steve told him, feeling like his whole body was a bomb on a timer ticking down, but also like he wanted to draw it out, maybe, a little.  “Shit,” he panted, mumbling like a moron, now he’d started.  “You’re the best dick-eating monster ever, you’re like, better than the ones on Sesame Street,” he told the dude, sincerely, and heard him burst out laughing again.  

“You want a blow job or what,” he gasped, sounding like he was crying.  “Stop making me laugh, christ.  There aren’t dick-eating monsters on Sesame Street.”

“...oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Steve realized breathlessly, nodding.  The stall wall was cool against his sweaty skin.  “You’re smart, huh.”

“Jesus,” the guy breathed, and then Steve felt his mouth again, and his hips spasmed against the glory hole.  He made a guttural noise as he came, intending half a warning, half a compliment, but the guy just waited as he went still, and then pulled back, panting.  

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, coming down, his heart pounding half out of his chest.  “God, that was good.”

“I am an expert,” the dude said—hoarsely, probably because he’d let Steve fuck his throat for minutes on end.

“Yeah, you are,” Steve agreed, sitting down on the toilet edge.  “Damn.  Gimme a sec—wait, you got another condom?  I only had one.”

“...it’s fine,” the guy laughed.  “I’m a dick monster, remember, s’enough for me.”

“Next time,” Steve said, impulsively, and heard a thump on the other side of the wall.  

“...you, uh,” the guy said, and trailed off, as Steve checked his phone, and grimaced.  

“I gotta go,” he said, over the guy asking something kinda quietly on the other side.  “Wait, what?”

“Nothing, go ahead,” he laughed, and Steve frowned at the wall.

“...I have this Zoom meeting,” he said, grimacing.

“Same bat-time, same bat-channel?” the guy asked, and Steve laughed.

“This your usual break?”

“Yeah.  I’ll have you for lunch anytime,” the guys said, and Steve sighed, flattening his hand against the wall, and wishing he could touch.  

“Jesus, what’d I do right to get a day like today,” he said, and the dick-monster snickered.

“Better run, dude.”

“Yes, thanks,” Steve told him, yanking his zipper shut, and his mask back over his ears.  “Thanks, man, I haven’t touched anybody in like.  A year.  You’re a goddamn saint.”

“Saint monster,” he said, as Steve left.

 Steve had to pick up his dry-cleaning two days later, and it occurred to him he really should’ve gotten the guy’s number, or at least asked what days he had off.  He slid into the bathroom, touched his back pocket again, and felt the two condoms.  He cleared his throat, grimacing, because it seemed creepy as hell to drop and stare through the glory hole.  

After a couple minutes, he heard the door open and a flurry of footsteps, and then a thud at the stall wall as he dropped to his knees.  “I’m here,” his benefactor said, breathless.  

“Okay,” Steve said, pulling a condom out, and trying to find the spot to tear it open.

“Don’t sound all fucking excited to see me,” the guy said, his voice flat, suddenly.  “I know I’m just some—”

“No, no, hey,” Steve said, addressing the knees he could see under the wall of the stall.  “I was trying to get the damn condom open.  Your turn, right?”

“...you wanna suck me off?” the guy asked, slowly.  “You don’t gotta.  I’m an absolute whore for praise, seriously, just keep telling me how good I’m doing—”

“...I mean, I can do that,” Steve said, wishing he could see the dude’s face, instead of trying to gauge the meaning of every pause in his sentences.  “But I can suck you off, first.”

“...what a gentleman,” he said, laughing, and then Steve heard him unzip.  

 The sight of someone else’s skin, even through a glory hole, made Steve’s mouth water like he was a gotdamn cannibalistic psychopath.  He wished desperately that he could just touch, without the plastic barrier.  He pinched the end of the condom and held it against the end of the guy’s already-hard cock, pushing the ring up and over hot skin, and he knelt to try and breathe in the smell of another human.  

The guy smelled a little sweaty, and a bit like soap, and Steve’s hands actually shook as he resisted reaching through and scratching his nails through the bed of curls around the base of the cock in his hands.  Even through plastic, the dude’s dick was satisfyingly heavy, warm, and alive, and he kissed it as soon as he’d gotten enough of the condom on.  The guy grunted, thumping against the creaky stall wall like Steve had done, and they both laughed.

“You know the best part of bathroom sex,” the guy panted, the tip of the condom already filling as he leaked, “—it’s the acoustics, right, I sound like a whole-ass porno in here.”

“That’s not the best part,” Steve told him, swallowing, and then swallowing again, because he didn’t know touching someone, even through plastic, could make him want to crawl under the wall of a bathroom stall if it meant he could touch them more.  He never thought he’d be so happy to see a dick.  “God, you feel good.”  

“...I am good,” the guy whispered, barely audible in the weird, loud bathroom acoustics with the fan going, and Steve laughed, kissing his cock again.  It jerked in his hand.

“You are good,” he breathed against it, and the dude bit back a groan.  “You’re perfect,” Steve said, following a hunch, and felt the guy thump his hips against the wall between them again.  

Steve grinned, bending down to swirl his tongue around the tip, and he saw the dude’s hands grip the upper edge of the stall, his knuckles whitening.  The little hexagonal tiles dug into Steve’s knees, a bit, but he didn’t mind.  He felt himself getting hard, and unzipped his pants, absently freeing his dick with a sigh of relief.

 Steve had always liked sucking cock.  He’d wondered whether it would be any fun, though, without the feeling of hips under his hands, or fingers in his hair—but he could see the guy’s shoes shifting, and feel the soft thumps against the stall as he forgot everything except Steve’s mouth around him.  Steve could look up and see his grip straining on the stall wall, and smell him, the laundry and sweat and cologne smell of him—and hear him, louder than Steve, grunting streams of “Fuck, fuck, jesus, fuck,” and “God, don’t slow down, you asshole,” and “Oh shit, do that again, please, please, please…” trailing off into begging, panting gibberish.

When he came, he staggered back and thudded down onto the toilet seat with a clatter.  “Just—just gimme a minute,” he panted, as Steve grabbed toilet paper, and wiped the spit off his face and chin.  

“Take your time,” he said, and the toilet seat squeaked as the guy cleared his throat.  

“Yeah, yeah, shit, sorry, fuck.  Lemme just get down there, asshole—”

“No, I mean it,” Steve said, sitting down himself, and giving his dick a squeeze.  He let his eyes fall shut at the relief.  “Take as long as you want, I don’t have a meeting or anything.”

“...shit,” the guy breathed.  “Yeah.”

“...wanna give me your number?” Steve asked, trying to distract himself from the thought of the dude’s mouth, of pushing into the heat of another human being.

“Shit, yes,” the guy blurted.  “Yeah, yes, please.”  He recited it, and Steve put it in his phone, taking care his extreme horniness didn’t make his hand shake and drop his phone in the toilet.  

“I’m saving you as ‘beautiful dick guy’,” he said, and Beautiful Dick Guy laughed.  

“Text me, so I know you’ve got it,” he said, and Steve did, before tucking his phone safely away.

“What are you saving me as?” Steve asked.  “Best blowjob ever?  Nice Mouth Dude?”

“Surprised you didn’t save me as ‘Dick Monster’,” the guy muttered, and Steve snorted a laugh, as he slid the other condom on.

“Well, you haven’t bitten it off yet.”

“I’m not gonna bite it off!” he laughed.

“You might,” Steve told him, patting the wall, because he wanted to touch something.  “I mean—”

“Get your cock in my mouth, jesus,” the dude said, and Steve stood, and pressed his cock through the glory hole to the guy’s lips with a grunt of relief.  

“Jesus,” he whispered.  “Thank you, god.  Thank you.”

Beautiful Dick Guy pulled off, and Steve bit back a groan of protest.  “Stop making it sound like I’m donating to charity,” he growled, before sinking Steve’s cock between his lips again, and swallowing around it.

“Dunno what you wanna hear,” Steve muttered.  “God, you’re good at this.”  The mouth around his dick hummed approvingly, and Steve nearly came at the vibration, moaning.  “You’re perfect, you’re amazing,” he mumbled, on autopilot.  “Jesus, you’re a fucking gift, you’re the best thing that ever happened to my cock, I swear, you’re a goddamn miracle, you’re a natural disater on my dick—”

The dude started laughing again, choking and coughing, and Steve grabbed the top of the stall, wishing it wouldn’t be weird and unsafe to just climb on the toilet and lean over to kiss him like the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet—or better yet, open the door and walk into the other stall, and dip him like the end of a tango.  Steve mumbled some version of all that, and the guy cackled harder.  “Sorry,” he wheezed.  “Sorry, sorry.”

“No hurry, man,” Steve told him, taking a deep breath.  “Can’t...rush art, right.”

“Jesus,” the dude snorted, coughing again, and Steve cocked his head, trying to think around all the blood pounding in his dick.  

“...other people must tell you you’re good at this,” he said, “—like, all the time,” and everything was quiet for a long second.  

“...yeah,” the guy finally said, sounding a little bitter.  “Everybody’s super polite and respectful, when you suck them off in a toilet.”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing, and squirming, a little, at the memory of how the dude’s voice felt against his dick.  “Well.  Um.  Would it be weird if I texted you?  Like.  I can’t ask you out.”

“...you wanna ask me out?” the guy asked, laughing.

“I can’t, there’s—there’s nowhere we can go,” Steve said, wondering whether it’d be rude to pull his cock back through, and jerk off, if it was just gonna sit there untouched.  “We could, um, we could like...wave at each other in the park, but it’s cold.”

“You’d date me?” came his voice again.  “You haven’t even asked my name yet.”

“Steve,” Steve said quickly.  “And you are?”

“...Billy,” Billy said, and just as Steve was distracted, thinking about what kinda shitheel would fuck a guy’s mouth and not ask his name, the heat of Billy’s mouth sank over his cock again, and Steve just tried to keep his mouth moving, mumbling how fantastic Billy had to be.

 Billy left first, while Steve took stock of the brain cells he’d lost through his dick.  Thanks so much, he texted.  Sorry I can’t kiss you.  

what, arrived back, almost instantly.

I mean, Steve sent, and then stared at the screen, trying to figure out what he meant.  I love listening to you laugh

I want to kiss your face while you laugh 

wrap around you when you shiver

leave hickies all over your body

hold you when you’re all fucked out

wake you up with my mouth on your cock

my hands holding your thighs

 dont do this to me at work, Billy sent back, and Steve hunched his shoulders, grimacing, but then his phone buzzed again.  i’ll die i’m fucking dying holy shit god yes kiss me hold me down 

I can come back next week, Steve sent, grinning.

fuck you, Billy sent back.  you know how many actual hours that is 

why you gonna make me wait that long

asshole

Steve laughed, grinning at his screen.  

 When he left, he took a long look at the bar, and a dude with light brown curls, thick, dark brows, and amazing gray-blue eyes watched him.  It was hard to tell his expression through the mask, but Steve was pretty sure it was a grin.  

later, beautiful cock monster, he sent, and he heard the familiar snorted laugh.

fuck you, his phone told him.  

 The next morning, he sent g’morning, beautiful, and hope you’re having a lunch as amazing as you are, and kiss emoticons, and Billy sent back eggplants and staring eyes and suggested Steve come by the bar twice a day.

 He learned over the next few weeks that Billy could get nearly any conversation back around to sucking Steve’s cock, and it made it kinda...hard to talk to him, honestly, when Steve wanted to put him on speaker over lunch, or watch a movie.  He had more phone sex than he’d had in ever, but Billy kinda sounded like he was taking his cues from a phone sex hotline, and that...wasn’t quite what Steve had been...longing for.  

“I watched some Sesame Street clips with this kid I know on Zoom,” Steve told him.  “Looked for you.  You live near, like, Bert and Ernie?  Is that the queer community there?”

“Were you thinking about my dick?” Billy asked, snickering, and Steve hadn’t been, really, he’d been thinking about Billy’s laugh.  “My mouth misses you more, though,” Billy whispered, “—misses your heat, man, misses stretching around you—” and Steve was half-hard in his jeans, again, and too tired to do anything about it.  

“I gotta go,” he sighed, and Billy was silent at the other end.  It felt less like dating, and more like watching the same porn over and over.  

 When Billy called just as Steve was settling in with warm pajamas, popcorn, beer, and a good K-drama, about to find out who the mother-in-law’s secret son’s girlfriend actually was, Billy called, already panting.  Steve couldn’t help thinking I just got you off after lunch.  

“I’m kinda busy,” he said, pausing the show.

“Aren’t you off?” Billy asked, after a pause.  “You’re off, right?”

“...yeah, I just have...stuff,” Steve said, grimacing.  

Billy was quiet for long enough that Steve glared off into space, because his popcorn was getting cold.  “...maybe in an hour?” Billy offered.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Steve said, “—or later this week.”

“...yeah, okay, you call me,” Billy said, and hung up.  

Steve shook his head, sighing, and clicked his show back on, watching with big eyes as he tried to figure out the complicated relationships.  He didn’t remember to text Billy that night—and he didn’t hear anything back, either, so he didn’t worry about it, too much.  It was kinda nice, honestly, not getting a phone call at seven am from a guy Steve barely knew telling him what to do with his huge, meaty cock.  Somehow, formulaic sex hotline talk didn’t help him feel any less lonely.

 By the end of the week, he was kinda dreading calling Billy at all, so he called Robin instead.  

“He’s too horny,” she said slowly.  “Steve, everybody’s horny.  We’ve all been in solitary for a year.  I would probably eat out a fire hydrant to feel some juices on my face, okay, go easy on this guy.”

“It’s not...ugh,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face.  “It’s like talking to one of those viagra emails, okay?  Like, why even talk to a real person, if he’s just gonna…like, I get him off, but he won’t talk about anything else, I don’t know if he’s ever seen a movie—”

“...he’s boring, it sounds like,” she sighed.  “That sucks, man.”

“He is,” Steve groaned.  “I feel like I’m talking to a budget sex line operator.  He cuts me off whenever I even mention work, or like, anything—”

“...sounds like he might think you’re boring too, buddy,” she said, with her trademark blend of cynical sympathy.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed.

“Better wrap it up,” she said, and he nodded, grimacing.

 hey, he texted.  I don’t think this is gonna work out.

 Billy called an hour later, and Steve sighed, but swiped to answer, and said “Hello?”

“God,” Billy whispered.  “I thought you might’ve already blocked me.”

“Haven’t yet,” Steve said, drumming his fingers on his tabletop, and waiting.

“‘Yet’.  Okay,” Billy said, laughing.  It sounded a little—pissed, maybe, and Steve braced himself, listening to Billy’s soft breaths.  It sounded like he was walking somewhere.  “Is—is there anything—any way I could get another chance,” he panted, and then it went silent, like he was holding his breath.

Why, Steve wondered, frowning.  He bit his lips, thinking.

“If there’s anything you want from me, just tell me,” Billy said, sounding a little less steady.  “Or shit, if—if you don’t want something, just—just tell me what you want, I don’t—”

“It’s not you, it’s m—” Steve tried, making a face, and Billy cut him off, laughing, but sniffling.

“No.  No, don’t give me that, it’s definitely me, I can tell, okay.  You wanted me and then talking to me was a fucking chore, what—come on,” he whispered, his voice cracking.  “You said you wanted to hold me, don’t—”

I was lonely, Steve thought of saying, and winced.  I can’t make myself like you.  

“Don’t make me get a job on Sesame Street,” Billy said hoarsely, laughing.  “I don’t think they actually have openings for Dick Monsters,” and there he was, the guy Steve had listened to giggling, the man he had liked.  

He took a deep breath, thinking.  

“...okay, yeah,” Billy said, clearing his throat.  “Fuck,” he muttered.  “Fuck.”

At least, Steve thought, feeling his face heat, he could tell Billy hadn’t been bored.  “...you...wanna try again,” he said, cautiously, and Billy made a weird noise like he was slurping up nothing through a wet straw.

“Yes.  Yes,” he whispered.  “Yeah, is that—is that even—”

“Okay,” Steve told him, and felt indescribably guilty listening to his boyfriend burst into tears.  

“Fuck, okay, tell me—tell me what you want,” he gulped.  “I don’t wanna piss you off again, tell me—”

“You didn’t piss me off,” Steve told him, and Billy swallowed hard.  

“Okay,” he said again.  “What—why—”

“...you’re like talking to a SPAM email,” Steve finally said, brutally honest.  “Like, every time I try to talk to you—”

“What?!” Billy asked, laughing, a little bitterly.

“I try to tell you what I’m having for lunch or something, and all of a sudden you’re all ‘biggest HUGE cock, daddy’,” Steve groaned.  “Like...if I’m that boring, d’you even want to date me?”

“...should I just call less,” Billy asked.  “I know I was calling too much, I was trying to just—just wait for you to call me, just call sometimes—”

“You’re not listening,” Steve said, sighing.

“No, I am, I swear!” Billy yelped.  “I’m listening, you don’t want me trying to keep you on the line, I’ll stop.  I’ll—when you’re done I’ll just hang up, I swear, I’m listening, I am—”

“I’m not...trying to get you to hang up,” Steve said slowly.  “I’m—I’m just telling you stuff?  I just—I’ve got a life, y’know, I thought maybe—you’d wanna know me.”

“I thought you were fucking bored,” Billy yelled, then, fuzzier, “—no, sorry, sorry—” before the phone was back to his ear.  “Every time I’d get you on the phone you’re like ‘So anyway, lots to do today—’”

“Oh,” Steve said, grimacing.  

“You always sounded bored.  You’re always bored, with me,” Billy said, laughing.  “Shit, I knew this was coming, don’t—don’t date me just because I begged, christ.”

“It’s not even really dating,” Steve sighed, wondering if he’d have noticed Billy’s tension earlier, across a table from him.

“...yeah, not—not really,” Billy agreed, then, more quietly.  “We’re just talking, sometimes.”

“Want to go for a walk,” Steve asked, and Billy held his breath again, then blew it out with a soft sigh.

“...not if you’re dumping me,” he said, and Steve sat up straighter.  

“No!  No, just—I wanna see you.  I didn’t even wanna dump you, I thought you were fucking bored, man.”

“...okay,” Billy said, sounding like he might be smiling, finally, and when Steve arrived at the park, there he was, texting.

Steve’s phone buzzed as he approached—sure enough, it was the guy he’d seen at the bar, with dark eyebrows and pretty gray-blue eyes over his mask.

dont make me wait, dickhead, it said.

“I’m here,” Steve called, and Billy looked up, and grinned with his eyes.  “Shit,” Steve said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and Billy’s smile dropped.  He searched Steve’s face.  “I just wanna hug you,” Steve admitted, staying six feet away.  “You look cute.”

Billy laughed, his eyes crinkling, and Steve wriggled his hands in his pockets, groaning melodramatically.  

“Tell me something about you,” Steve told him.  “Uh, not about your cock.”

“...um,” Billy said, kicking a pinecone along the path.  “Huh.  I got a little sister.  Max.  She’s home now, but she’ll head back to college.  When they reopen.”

“This is the kinda shit I should know when we’ve been dating for nearly a month, and we talk every goddamn day,” Steve growled, hunching his shoulders.  

“Well, truly fucking sorry,” Billy said, glancing over.  “The only part of me I knew you liked was my dick, so—”

“No, I’m not—I should’ve asked,” Steve said, swivelling, and waving his hands in the air as another horrifying thought occurred to him.  “What’s your last name, Billy?!”

“Hargrove,” Billy said, grinning at him.  

“Jesus,” Steve muttered, shaking his head, and walked on.  He grabbed his phone, and changed his boyfriend’s contact info to include his actual name, feeling like a dipshit.

 When they decided, shivering, to head home, Steve turned around to watch Billy walk away, and caught him doing the same thing.  

I really like you, Steve texted.  sorry you didn’t know.

Billy turned on his heel and blew Steve a kiss, and Steve jumped and pretended to catch it like a fly ball, before holding it cupped in his hands.  

nerd, Billy sent.

your nerd, Steve sent back, triumphantly, with two thumbs up across the park at Billy, who started laughing so hard again he had to lean on his knees.

 He found Billy Hargrove on Instagram, and Twitter, and scrolled through photos of a really unfairly hot man as he sat in his car, his eyebrows raised.  There were photos of Steve’s texts, with loads of comments and hearts, and Steve found himself grimly going through posts where he’d texted and Billy’d posted the screenshot, and then video of him screaming into a pillow, or things Steve had said with two pages of comments and analysis.  

‘I think you could do better than somebody who doesn’t like you very much’ caught his eye, and he bit his lips together.  

Good thing it’s not up to you, Billy had replied, and Steve nodded, glaring at the username, MadMax666.  

I like him a lot, Steve typed, but that didn’t seem like enough, so he deleted it.  ‘I like him more than anyone else does’ was worse, and he grimaced, deleting that one. I know he’s amazing, he put, finally, and got back a Who is this?? from Billy’s logon.

The dumb boyfriend, Steve told him, and then everything exploded with heart emoticons, and Steve just called him, grinning.  “Hey, Billy,” he said, and Billy laughed.  

“Hey, Steve,” he said back, softly, and Steve talked him off the way they had at first, in the bathroom at Billy’s work, telling Billy he was amazing and perfect and good.  

 The next time Steve went by the bar, he called first, and Billy laughed breathlessly when he said he was coming by.

“Advance notice,” he said.  “Almost like a date, huh?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice a little sooner,” Steve admitted, and got a short pause before a hissed “Oh my god.”  Steve laughed.

“Maybe something special, then,” Billy whispered, and when Steve got there, instead of seeing Billy’s knees as he dropped to the floor instantly, Billy’s hands were curled over the wall of the stall.  “...just shove on in,” he said, and Steve realized that, bizarrely, he was about to have actual penetrative sex with someone he’d never touched.  

He unzipped his pants, and rolled a condom on, as Billy said “I know this isn’t what you want.  From dating.  I—I thought maybe—”

Steve dropped his already-dripping dick to slide his fingers over Billy’s, on the wall of the stall, and hear his voice hitch and shudder.  “You’re perfect, babe.  You’re enough.”

“...love you,” Billy whispered, maybe.

“What?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy said “Nothing, nothing.”

 Billy didn’t seem to know Steve had found his Twitter too, and all discussion of Steve floated over there, which would have made him feel creepy about reading it, except it was invariably something that just meant Steve needed to call and cheer him up, that he wouldn’t have known if he wasn’t eavesdropping.  

What are you gonna do in that huge apartment all by yourself, somebody asked Billy, in the spring, and Steve’s heartbeat a little faster scrolling back to see Billy’s boyfriend had moved out months before, and his little sister was going back to college.  

Want to move in with me? he typed, and reconsidered, staring at it instead of hitting send.  He counted the months he’d known Billy on his fingers, grimacing.  

Can’t pay the rent here with reduced hours, can’t get the deposit to move, popped up on Billy’s Twitter, and Steve glowered at it, then called.

“Move in with me,” he said, when Billy answered.

“...what?” Billy breathed.

“Move in with me,” Steve said again.  “You’re alone, right?  Come live with me.”

“...is there room?” Billy asked, sounding bewildered.  “For me?”

“There’s a little room I use as my office,” Steve said, making a face.  “I, uh, I kinda thought you wouldn’t be using it, though.”

“You want me to live with you?” Billy asked again, like his brain was skipping, and Steve laughed.  

“Yeah, dick-monster, I do.”

“...you’ve never even seen my face,” Billy muttered, and Steve laughed.

“Is it my fault you’re so fucking tired of Zoom?”

“That doesn’t count,” Billy huffed.

“I’m vaccinated,” Steve told him.  “I’ve been quarantining.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Billy said dourly.  “I’m crawling out of my skin over here.”

“It’s safe as it can be.  D’you want to?”

“Of course I—we’ve never even had the exclusive conversation,” Billy groaned.  “Are we?!”

“COVID makes shit weird,” Steve sighed.  “I figured you were it for me, yeah.”

“I have never touched your flesh,” Billy moaned, like a serial killer, and Steve snorted.

“Calm down, carnivore,” he said,  “—you want help moving?”

“Yes,” Billy sighed.  “Yeah.  Gimme a couple days—”

“Days?!” Steve asked, startled, and Billy was quiet on the other end.  “Days are fine!” Steve corrected.  “Days are good!”

“Okay,” Billy said, laughing softly.  “Days.”

 As soon as the furniture and boxes were piled in Steve’s front room, he sidled over to Billy, who was leaning against the counter panting, his eyes closed.  Billy’s jacket was open, from the heat of hauling boxes up the stairs, and Steve ran his fingers down Billy’s neck, and then yanked him close into a hug, feeling the warmth and bulk of him breathing.

“Oof,” Billy whispered, but he relaxed into it with a sigh, leaning his whole weight against Steve.

Steve breathed him in, realizing he felt weak, a little, with the need to squeeze Billy as hard as he could.  “Hi,” he whispered.

“Mmmn,” he said, contentedly.

 Steve hauled him back to the bed, stripping him down on the way.  He wouldn’t quit squirming, and Steve rubbed stubble all over his neck, making him yell.  They nearly tripped, because neither of them wanted to pull back enough to look down, but they made it to Steve’s bed.  Steve pushed him back, and then crouched over him.  

Steve unhooked the mask from his own ears, and ran his fingers up Billy’s arm to his head to untie his.  “Feel like I’m lifting your veil,” Steve told him.

Billy kept his eyes shut, smiling as Steve lifted his mask.  He was pretty, prettier than his pictures, square-jawed and mustached, and Steve ran his fingers over his boyfriend’s cheek for the first time, just exploring.  He tweaked the one dangling earring, and brushed his thumb over Billy’s lips, and Billy bit back a moan, turning his head in Steve’s hands to kiss his fingers.

“...y’know I’m never gonna stop touching you,” Steve whispered, and Billy laughed, his long lashes brushing his freckled cheeks.  “...you’re perfect.”

“Mmmn,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows doubtfully.

“You’d be perfect if you had a smashed nose like a cauliflower, and nine-hundred eyes like a fly,” Steve told him, honestly, and Billy burst out laughing.  

“Not much of a compliment, then,” he pointed out, opening his eyes and grinning at Steve, and Steve couldn’t help touching his grin, feeling where his cheeks bunched as he smiled.  

It felt so good to touch someone.  

“...god,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips over Billy’s smile.  "May I kiss the bride?" 

Billy laughed against his lips, hot and human.  

My other Harringrove April prompts are here!

[impala-dreamer]

Two Weeks Notice - Day Three

~With the world practicing self-isolation, Y/N and Dean break all the rules of social distancing and common decency as they explore an empty bunker and use the time alone to their playful advantage...~

Dean x Reader

1,645 Words

Warnings: NSFW! Role Play. Bondage. Rough. "Monster Fucking". Slight Pregnancy!Kink, Consensual Non-Con. It's all fantasy! Fluff

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Dean woke with a start. He felt cold, like a spirit had moved through his body, but that was impossible- wasn’t it? He blinked, clearing the dizziness from his mind and looked around the dark room.

It was hard to see anything much, the table below him giving off such a glow that it nearly burned his eyes. The table.

He was laying flat atop the War Room table, arms and legs spread out as far as the edges of the table would allow. In a moment of panic, he tried to move, twisting his arms, then his legs, but he was strapped down, solidly locked with fabric cuffs laiden with velcro on all sides.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath to calm himself, trying in vain to remember the last thing that had happened to him.

He’d been coming home with some groceries- ice cream and chips for Y/N, when suddenly…

Nothing. It all went black after that.

He looked down and realized the cold was not a ghost, but a lack of clothing. He was fully naked and on display for anyone to see and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt embarrassed at first, but then a twitch of excitement flooded his system; he knew it was wrong, knew he was in some sort of danger, but he couldn’t help the heat that rushed down to his cock.

A clink of metal from above drew his eyes to the iron balcony.

“Mr. Winchester, good morning.”

His eyes rose to a shadowed figure looking down upon him. Light from the table washed upwards, highlighting a beautiful face with dark lashes and deep red lips.

He sneered, tugging at his cuffs once more for good measure. “You.”

She smiled like a wolf. “Me. Nice to see that I am remembered. A hero such as yourself has too many things on his mind to be remembering lowly creatures; even ones that he tortured.”

Realizing that he had no way to defend himself other than his mouth, Dean smirked and licked his lips smugly. “Lady, I can’t remember every two-bit witch or flea-ridden wolf or whatever the hell you are that I’ve taken down. I just remember a pretty face when I see one.”

A scowl turned her lips downwards and she turned, high heeled leather boots clicking loudly on the metal as she slowly descended the stairs. She wrapped a hand around the banister and Dean’s eyes were glued to the dark red painted claws afixed to her fingertips.

“Baltimore...2003,” she told him plainly, every word corresponding with a step down, a clank of metal. “You murdered my family one night...took their heads clean off.”

Dean kept his cocky attitude and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Does it?” She rounded the bottom of the staircase and turned to him.

“Sometimes.” He sucked in a heavy breath as she came at him, a vision in a tight, shining leather dress. Her tits were pushed high and bubbling over the deep neckline, her waist cinched painfully into the perfect hourglass shape. She was stunning. She was sexy. She was…

“Wait…” Dean narrowed his eyes as her face came into full view. “Y/N.”

Emerald went dark with realization as she bared her vampiric fangs and dove down, wrapping her claws around his face to hold him still. He gasped as she bit into his throat, his pulse racing to flood her mouth with precious blood.

His eyes rolled as she kissed the spot and stood back up, her nails tracing the defined lines of his collarbone and left shoulder.

“So you do remember me.” She grinned and collected a drop of blood from the corner of her lips with her middle finger. She stared at it for a moment, letting it sparkle in the light before sucking the blood and digit into her mouth.

Panting and dizzy, Dean watched her carefully, calculating his next move. “Yeah, I remember you now. You got away, ran out the back door like a coward while I decimated your entire nest.”

Y/N sneered, baring her fangs as her hand rose to grip his throat, squeezing hard. “My family,” she corrected. “You murdered them. I barely escaped.”

“Thin line between escape and fleeing,” he choked.

Seething, Y/N bent down again and tore at his neck, tongue flickering at his pulse as she pulled on his essence.

Dean’s world began to spin and he tugged at his restraints, hopefully when he heard a bit of velcro give. “Vampires are all cowards,” he went on, using her rage to buy himself some time. “I’ve killed thousands. All the same.”

The more he mocked, the harder she sucked, moving around his throat with her deadly kisses. Her hand left his throat as his breathing quickened, fingers sliding down the deep cuts and curves of his firm torso, lower and lower until Dean hissed in protest.

“What do you want from me?”

Y/N lifted her lips from his throat and smiled down into his beautiful eyes. She wrapped a soft hand around his cock and slowly began to stroke him to life.

“I want what you took from me,” she said simply. “I want a new family.”

Dean scoffed but inside he cringed, fearful to become that thing again. He flashed back to years ago when he’d received the magical blood. He could feel it flowing through him again; the power, the connection, the lust of it all. “No.” He tried his best to push it from his mind, but her hand kept his attention elsewhere.

“Tell me, Mr. Winchester, are you familiar with the idea of a True Pure Blood?” Her fingers pulsed around his cock, thumb gently stroking the swollen head.

His head rolled along with his eyes, unable to focus on an escape any longer. “What? No.”

Y/N set her tongue against the sharpest of her fangs and smiled. “It’s the theory that two virial vampires can produce an offspring of immeasurable power, creating a new, True Pure Blood child that cannot be killed.”

“Anything...can be killed.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat as Y/N massaged his balls. “If you take its head off…”

“But what if it were true? What if it could be done?”

“It can’t.” He was panting, stomach muscles tightening, arms straining. “You can’t. It’s a myth. Just lore.”

“Funny,” she teased, lifting her tight skirt and climbing up onto the table beside him. “I thought your brother was the one with the library in his head.”

“I know stuff,” he spat, turning his face from her kiss as she leaned close.

“I bet you do.” It was sweet, almost romantic, the way her lips grazed his ear. Her breath was hot and shiver-inducing as it blew across his flesh. “You’re smart Dean,” she told him in a sultry whisper as she tossed one leg over his thick waist. He closed his eyes, lost to the feeling. “Handsome, clever…” Her pussy was hot and wet as she rubbed herself against his pelvic bone. “Brave, funny…” His cock twitched against her ass, warm and throbbing. “That’s why I chose you.”

His heart nearly stopped as he realized his error. When he looked up, she was barely an inch away, her lips puckered, her eyes hungry.

He shook his head defiantly. “No.”

Y/N smiled kindly. “You have no choice, Dean. It’s already begun.”

Before he could turn his face, Y/N stuck her tongue against her canine and bit down, drawing a river of fresh vampiric blood into her mouth. She kissed him hard, forcing his lips to part with her tongue and pushing the blood into him. He swallowed without a thought and felt the surge of power overtake him.

As they kissed, exchanging the Blood, Y/N scooted back and sank down onto his cock, filling her pussy as she filled his mouth. Her nails dug into his pecs when she pulled back, sitting up to ride him fast and hard.

Dean gasped, shaking against the hard, glowing table as the Blood worked on his system. Y/N kept him distracted while fangs ripped through his gums, his eyes changing, filling with the power. He writhed below her, limbs tensing, pulling at the straps, his chest heaving as he neared the end.

“Hush now,” she soothed, running a cold hand down his sweaty cheek. “You’re gonna be a great dad.”

He roared as he came, pain and pleasure mixing into one giant explosion that nearly knocked him out.

Y/N rode on, letting go of him for her own pleasure as she felt him spill into her throbbing cunt. She came soon after, using him like a toy, cackling into the empty War Room as she shuddered with pleasure.

“Rest now,” she said, climbing off of him and adjusting her dress. “You’ll need your strength to go again in a bit.”

Dean reeled. “Again? I…”

“Oh, you will,” she assured him, planting a sweet kiss on his forehead. “We’re gonna keep going until you’ve knocked me up for sure. The True Pure Blood must be born.”

Dean lifted his head as she backed away, face contorting with sudden worry. “Uh… ok, but you’re still on the pill though, right?”

Y/N laughed, nearly doubling over as the facade was broken. “Of course! What the fuck, dude!”

He sighed gratefully and lay back down, laughing at himself. “OK, good. I’m not- that’s not- I mean… yeah… no.”

“Agreed.”

He twisted at the cuffs again and turned back to find her walking from the room. “Hey! You gonna let me go?”

Y/N shrugged and eyed him over her shoulder. “Eh… maybe later. You look sexy like that.”

He watched in arousing horror as she actually walked away, heels clicking down the hallway into the shadows.

“Ah, nuts.”

2020 Forever Tags:

@akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @amanda-teaches @bakutododeku69 @because-imma-lady-assface @broiderie @burningcoffeetimetravel @cheritzie @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @crashdevlin @deansotherotherblog @deanmonandnegansbitch @deansgirl215 @deanwanddamons @defenderrosetyler @dontshootmespence @emoryhemsworth @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @hannahindie @herbologystudent252 @ilsawasanacrobat @justcallmeasmodeus @ladyjenny19 @laxe-from-outer-space @letsby @mariekoukie6661 @missjenniferb​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @msjava1972​ @mylovelydame21​ @mysticmaxie​ @pilaxia​ @sandlee44 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @squirrelnotsam​ @typicalweirdbookworm​ 

TWN: 

@rebelemilu​ @pastathighs​ @deans-baby-momma @bobbie3939 @peachyafshawn @spencer-reids-babygirl @akrasiaev @shadowkat-83​ @deangirl7695 @foxyjwls007 @bxbyizzy @chenshemesh1 @pandaxo79 

[burnedbyshoto]

Four Times Dabi Wanted You; The One Time He Got You

Kinktober Day 2 ~ kink: sexual frustration

pairing: dabi x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cussing

word count: 6,514

a/n: day twoooo!!!!!! this one is by far my fav... again its only the second one Ive written so....yeAH LMAO!!!!!!! I am so hot for dabi its not even funny anymore!!! please enjoy >:)

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Four

Dabi pants as he pulls the lip of his water bottle away from him. He wipes his hand against his mouth. Cooling down his burning skin and drying his mouth. With the league’s increasing popularity, he had to start training with the others. Defeat was no longer allowed by Shigaraki, and defeat was not something they wished for.

Dabi's quirk was powerful, there was no denying that! The issue arose with the way it was burning him out from the inside out. So there was only so much he could do without turning into a crisp.

Dabi didn't mind that much as long as he could continue training with you. His eyes locked on you from a distance.

You pulled your arms over your head, and your head is rolling in circles. You’re cooling down.

Five weeks ago you had shown up, a new recruit found by none other than Sako. You had seemed innocent enough, someone Dabi definitely would have never recruited himself. You were so benign seeming, too bland. You had a vivacious smile and stargazing expression. Those traits further solidified the idea you were in over your head. That was until he observed you in action.

Your quirk was horrifying, to say the least. Called Fission and Fusion, you were able to split living cells apart and put them together. It was terrifying the way you had sent Spinners' arms and legs flying away. The single-action sent entire league ready to both to unite you onto their lineup, and of course, kill you. Your laughter was sweet, your head bowing in apology as you retrieved Spinner's limbs. You reattached it with a smile, soon pointing out the lack of blood everywhere.

There was also no denying that you were attractive, hell, the entire league had a thing for you. Dabi, however, was the most adamant in denying his attraction to you. Even as most of their feelings for you faded, Dabi’s remained strong. As if it was there with a vengeance. He obsessed over you but never once let you in on that secret.

The smug bastard, Sato, was the League’s hero--oh the irony. All because he found a recruit they could use as a healer and a fighter. It was soon discovered that there was a major limitation to your quirk. First, you couldn’t use it on yourself, and second, burns weren’t something you could quite fix.

For the most part, your quirk didn’t help much with Dabi’s overexertion of his own quirk. You would, of course, try your best. Your fingers trailing his purple scars as your fingertip glowed. Dabi always felt a bit better after those touches, but it didn’t ever stop the burning sensation under his skin. He was grateful, it still helped.

His eyes continued to gaze at your closed eyes. Your arms circling in front of you, and Dabi watched as your breasts squeeze because of those actions. He watches the sweat from your face roll down your neck and into your cleavage. The trail of sweat disappears, and he takes a few slow blinks. It was almost like it was teasing him, and he blinked again. He feels a strange arousal at the sight of your glistening cleavage. Shaking it off, his eyes travel back up to your face.

You were looking at him, an amused grin on your face as you saunter over.

“You need some help there?” You ask, a smirk on your face as Dabi shrugs his shoulders.

“Go wild.” He replies sticking out his arm for you. Dabi won't give you the satisfaction of your perverted question. You plop down on the floor beside him, your warm fingers touching his burnt skin.

You trail your fingers up and down his smoke smelling arms, and Dabi relishes in the warmth of your hands.

“What were you staring at earlier?” You tease as you grab his right arm. Although nowhere near as used as his left arm, his right arm was equal in burns.

Dabi shrugs, leaning onto his left arm, his eyes flicker over to the view he has of your cleavage. “I had zoned out.”

You clicked your tongue, but you drop it as your fingers heal over the few cuts he has on his chest.

“You’ve been improving though,” Dabi states, catching you off guard by the looks of it. “You’ve improved a lot over the last five weeks.”

A laugh vibrates through your throat, as you pull away, your hands pressing onto your lap. “I did go from sorta being able to kick your ass, to completely kicking your ass.” You agree and the smile on your face has never once withering.

“You only won the first time because I was caught off guard,” Dabi retorts. His blue eyes rolling as he runs a hand through his sweaty locks.

“You’re not the type to underestimate anyone, Dabi!” You cackle and Dabi once again looks you over. Were you always this damn hot?

“I wasn’t underestimating you,” Dabi disagrees, a smirk coming to his face. Dabi stares at you as he now craves a new expression on your face. He stares at you with hooded eyes and your smile waivers. “Do you want to know the truth?”

There’s a pregnant pause, but you soon nod, your eyes sealing over with the decision.

“It’s because you’re hot to look at,” Dabi admits. A victorious smirk comes over his features at the blush that stains your cheeks. Your mouth opens to respond, but Dabi’s closing in on you for some reason. His eyes hooded, and you find yourself compelled by some outside force as you try to meet him halfway.

Something knocks into you at full force, and you’re on the ground as Toga straddles you grinning atop of your waist.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Toga giggles as she hides her face behind the sleeves of her schoolgirl uniform. “I’ve been waiting for you to finish with Dabi for so long now! I have so many cute people I need to show you!”

Dabi exhales as he watches the two of you discuss the plans you had in store. Dabi can only watch as you flash an apologetic smile and leave.

He watches you run away with Toga, a bright smile back on your face, and an unknown feeling sits heavy in his gut.

Thinking about it, Dabi ponders as he tries to figure out what he is feeling right now. It takes a moment, but as he thinks back to the way your fingers touch his arm. The way he had tried to kiss you made his stomach squeeze. Oh, no.

Dabi wanted you.

This day was not the last one like this to happen, nor was it the first. Only now it happened to be the first time he had noticed how fucking hot you were.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Three

~ Two Months Later ~

Recruiting was the best and worst thing Dabi did for the league.

He wasn’t going to lie. There was something so glorious and wonderful about killing these men. Men who thought they were better than everyone else. He loved the way they would scream for mercy while dying in front of him.

What he didn’t like were the initial conversations. The begrudged talks he had to have before he decided to kill them. Only so that he could tell Shigaraki that he did his job “correct” and perfect. Yet lately, it seemed that no one believed Dabi when he said he talked to the groups of potential followers. They weren’t wrong to believe that, but it still annoyed Dabi to see that you were waiting for him this morning.

There you stood with your given upgrades to your costume. You played a game on your phone as Dabi walked down the hallway. Your eyes locked on his, and there was a smile on your face. Dabi hated you, or so that’s what he kept telling himself. He hated your smile especially because it made his stomach flip, and there was no reason for that. He walked right past you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and groaned under his breath when you followed him out.

So Dabi now stood by the entrance of an alleyway, and you were three steps to his right.

Your damn outfit was attention capturing. The fitted suit highlighted every single damn curve you had. You had garnered the attention of the masses of people waiting for the two of you, so Dabi wanted to kill them. Who the fuck did they think they were staring at his girl--no, you.

The look on your face was one of complacency. You flirted back with every single catcall, your eyes holding a mysterious glint as you did so. Hell, Dabi watched on as you stood next to one of the men, your lips by his ear, and his entire face flushed red. The man went to grab your waist to pull you closer, but you were three steps ahead. You were already walking back towards Dabi.

There was no doubt in Dabi’s mind that none of them deserved to join. They had an interest in you, not the group's movement! So when you pressed a hand to his shoulder, Dabi feared the worst as he bent down for you.

Your lips brushed against the shell of his ear stirred something from within him. The hot flow of air further increasing his heightened need for you. But it was the words that left your lips that sealed the last nail in his coffin.

“Kill them all.”

Dabi smirked his eyes locking on your bright eyes. The brightness was sadistic, very hidden under the brightness of your energy. He growled lowly, his lust increasing by tenfold, and all while staring into your eyes, he shot his left hand out.

Blue flames illuminated the alleyway in a blink of an eye. The shrieks and screams made the two of you gaze at the burning bodies in silence.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Dabi says after the last shrieks end. You glance up at him, a giggle leaving your lips.

“Because I’m super innocent?” You ask, your bottom lip captured between your teeth. Dabi wants nothing more than to slam his mouth on yours and bite down on that lip. To hear your pant his name while the bodies crumbled into dust beside you. “I’m not as innocent as you think me to be.”

The tone seems innocent enough, but the look on your face makes Dabi stop a groan from leaving his mouth. It’s sinister, yet overwhelming and hot, and he feels himself growing in his pants. So, he takes a step towards you, and he delights in the fact you stand your ground. “I would agree but you’re as innocent as I know you to be.” Dabi counters.

A lazy grin stapled onto his face. Your eyes swimming with a bunch of emotions Dabi can’t pinpoint. “You’re a great fighter, don’t get me wrong.” He takes another step, his eyes now blazing into yours. A triumphant smirk lacing his face as you step back. “But, you don’t seem like a killer.”

Another step backward. “After all, princess, you did command me to kill them all. You could’ve taken them without a sweat.”

He has you pressed against the alleyway walls. The cold brick digging into your backside, as you stare at Dabi, your mouth opened ever so slightly.

It seems, though, you may have guessed exactly what Dabi was feeling because your eyes sparkle. A smile graces your face against as you look at him through your heavy lashes. “I just think it’s hot when a man does my job for me.”

Dabi chuckles, his hands pressing on the sides of your head. “I think I can deal with that.” He whispers, leaning into your face wanting nothing more than to make you his right here, right now.

Your eyes don’t close even as he draws nearer, the look of defiance making his cock twitch in anticipation. But a phone rings in his pocket right before he can press his mouth to yours.

Dabi groans, the spell over the two of you broken as he takes out his phone. Putting it to his ear.

“What?” He almost growls.

“Did you find anyone? I sent y/n with you so that there could be one potential coming back.” Shigaraki’s voice questions, his tone annoyed and hopeful.

“They were all terrible, y/n thought so, too.” Dabi sighs rubbing his face, and he glances over at you, who merely shrugs.

Now Dabi had a boner to deal with, and a certain girl would not be readily available to help him.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Two

~ One Week Later ~

Dabi walked to the bathroom. He frowned when he figured out that it was not free, and he trained his ears a bit. The shower was on. Sighing, he turned and walked to the much further bathroom in their house.

He peed and went down to the living room. The living room is small, with only a couch and a few individual chairs. The floor was also more comfortable than some of these chairs! In fact, there were more people on that floor than in a seat. Everyone had gathered tonight because they decided they all wanted to “bond.” So Toga and you had suggested a movie night, and much to Dabi’s annoyance everyone agreed. He sat down on the couch, grateful that everyone else was on the floor or on chairs. Dabi scanned the room, looking to see who wasn’t there.

Everyone was there except--

“Where’s Y/n?” Sako asked, his eyes darting around. Dabi rolled his eyes as he slouched on the couch. Of course, it was you in the shower.

“In the shower!” Toga chirped. “She came back all bloody and cute, but she wanted to get it all off…”

“Ew blood is disgusting!” Twice yelled, “I LOVE IT!”

Dabi groaned as everyone began bickering. They argued if the blood of one’s enemies on you was hot. Dabi had to agree though, it was hot. He didn't join in on the conversation though.

“Sorry!” You chirped from the entranceway, and everyone cheered at finally being able to get the movie on the roll. Dabi felt the couch shift from beside him, and you hopped onto the stiff cushion beside him.

Dabi glances over at you and immediately regretted doing so. You were wearing an oversized sweater that fell to your mid-thigh. Dabi could not keep his eyes away from you, his eyes trailing down your shapely legs. Your animate arms moved as you explained what had happened. But Dabi wasn’t quite paying attention to what you were saying. He only knew that he was damn positive he could smell your citrus and berry shampoo from where he sat. It was not his favorite smell, but on you, it was quick to arouse him.

His eyes fell over the swell of your breast, and he glanced at the logo. He froze. The blood that was rushing through his body frozen as he realized who’s sweatshirt that was.

It was fucking Sako’s sweatshirt! Dabi felt his upper lip curl into a snarl as he shifted back towards the television. Now Dabi was uncaring for the conversation. As the movie finally began, the conversations stopped. Everyone invested in the scenes unfolding before their eyes. Toga had for dumb reason brought back the Lego Movie, and so that was what they were watching.

Why the fuck did you have Sako’s shit? Dabi’s thoughts trailed as he glanced over at you, and you were whispering to Shigaraki.

Rolling his eyes, he thought of you in his own clothes. He was definitely going to burn that sweatshirt off your body once he had you under his body. You would look so pretty with your mouth around his cock. Stunning when your back will arch off the bed. Dabi could see himself pounding into you until you couldn’t do anything but scream his name. Beautiful as you were on all fours, you back arched as he took you from behind, his name a prayer on your tongue.

Dabi inhaled sharply as you brush your hair to the side, and the waft of aroma from your hair hit him at full force. His pants felt tight as he sat there, trying his best not to grab you at this very moment and make you his. He would not care if the others looked or not! Hell, Dabi figured it would be better for them to look as he drilled into you. It would mean no one could question who you belonged to. You belonged to him.

Dabi stilled as you almost appeared at his side. Your hand on his shoulder as you pressed your mouth by his ear, “I wanted to let you know that I can handle myself just fine.”

It takes everything within Dabi to not turn you on your backside and drill you into the couch. Your words are teasing and taunting him. Instead, Dabi grips his thighs and he nods. “Is that what you were doing?”

“That among a few other things.” Your tone is teasing as you shift back to your original position, and Dabi stares at you. It was as if you were doing this on purpose.

The way you had dressed up? You knew that he was possessive of the things he wanted, and to be wearing a sweatshirt he didn’t know you had until now? The outfit was an entire tease. The way that he could only see your hands, neck, and legs. It was as if you wanted to rile him up. Especially with you tossing your hair every three seconds. It was getting harder and harder to ignore you.

So Dabi sat there, his nostrils flaring as the movie continued on. He couldn’t hear the movie anymore. Dabi was hyperaware of the delicious giggles that left your lips. Giggles that paralleled whenever something funny happened in the film. His ears picking up on your voice whenever you talked with Shigaraki. It was pissing him off.

The movie wrapped up without a hitch, and everyone quickly retreated back to their rooms. That is except Dabi and you. Dabi was trying to conceal his hard-on. He did anything to make sure you wouldn’t see because he wasn’t going to give you the benefit of a victory over him. You were cleaning up the few messes people had left behind. You hummed to yourself as you cleaned up the few pieces of popcorn that had hit the floor. Brushing past Dabi with an apology, you bent down in front of him. The action revealed a pair of navy blue booty shorts. Shorts that sent Dabi over the edge in the aspect of his mental strength.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you walked to the kitchen. You tossed the trash away with a satisfied nod. You finished cleaning up, and you were now ready for bed.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi’s voice rustles against your neck, and you still. His chest pressed against your shoulders. You can feel his aroused dick pressed against your lower back, and a grin overcomes your features.

You delight in the way his fingers seize your waist, and you can’t keep yourself from rolling your hips. Your ass dragging pleasingly against his crotch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about?” You innocuously state, your hands gripping his pants to keep Dabi close.

“Now, now, love.” Dabi presses his lips to your neck. You groan slightly as the cool metal of his piercings conflict with your warm skin. “I know you’re not an idiot… don’t play dumb.”

You tilt your head to the side, giving him more room on your skin, and you once more roll your hips. He hisses softly against your neck. You laugh as the adrenaline courses through your veins making you giddy. This was something you wanted since day one after all. “I’m no idiot,” You agree, your hand trailing from his legs to clutch his black locks in your fingers. “I just can’t put together what I did to get myself into this situation.”

There’s an almost territorial grown from Dabi, and you've spun around. Your back is now pressed against the counter. You sigh as his warm hands slip underneath the sweatshirt. His fingers pausing at the waistband. “You wear this fucking sweatshirt. You talk to everyone but me all night long. You flip your hair in my direction as if I’m not already hard enough. And then you bend down right in front of me as if I hadn’t mused claiming you on that couch during the movie?”

You let out a moan, his words overwhelming you as he nips at your throat. Unable to keep yourself stagnant anymore, you clutch his face and bring his face to yours.

“Hey-- oh shit! Was I interrupting something?!” Spinners' face is blushing, and the two of you pull apart. Distance put between the two of you as you both stiffen.

“Nothing at all.” Dabi’s voice is too strained, and you watch as he storms off, his fists clenched at his side.

“It’s fine,” You say again with a laugh, Spinners face was almost beet red after all. “He was, what is it… checking up on me.”

“Are you… are you sure?” Spinner chokes his hand covering his eyes, and you walk over and press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, honey!” You laugh as you pull away. “Nothing was happening!”

You cackle at his uncomfortable status and leave with a skip in your step. Oh yeah, Dabi was just about to be yours.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ The Following Day ~

Dabi was trying not to stare at you.

You were laying on your stomach on the opposite end of his bed. Your ankles crossed as you read the book in your hands.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, all he knew is that since yesterday, you had been cold. Then again, you never seemed to be in his room ever. You wore a white tank top that showed off your stomach. Paired with black shorts that seemed to be the tiniest bit too tight. It was, to put it simply, too alluring for him. The outfit made Dabi want nothing more than to burn your clothes off and drill into you.

His eyes concentrated on you as you rolled over onto your back. Your hair fanning out around you in a way that Dabi could now envision himself between your legs. Your face flushed, screaming his name. He bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from thinking about it any further. There was no stopping his thoughts when you shifted your weight. Your back arching as you stretched. A low moan resonating from your mouth as Dabi wheezes slightly.

Your eyes flicker over to him, and a confused look falls over your face as you scrunch your eyebrows. “You okay?” You ask placing the book to the bed.

“Yeah,” Dabi says an easy lie, his hands running through his hair. “Are you?”

“Never been better!” You respond sitting up, and you fix your hair so that it lays on your shoulders. “I do have some questions though?”

Dabi quirks an eyebrow as he nods, letting you know that he’s listening.

“It’s about yesterday,” You breeze, adjusting your top, and his eyes flicker down to the swell of your breasts. Dabi feels his mouth running dry, but he nods his head. “I wanted to know how you felt…”

There’s a questionable tone to your voice, but your eyes glimmer. It's that same glimmer from the meeting. It reminds him of a sadistic smile. Even so, Dabi shifts again, “About… about what?”

“The movie, silly!” You say as you fall onto your hands, and Dabi rolls his eyes. Of fucking course.

“It was stupid.”

You tut softly as you shrug, “We’re all entitled to an opinion, even if your opinion is dumb and stupid.”

“Shut up, you’re being annoying.”

“I’m only curious!” You grin and take your book in your hand. “My hands are cold…” You murmur looking at the book. Your eyes snapped up to Dabi, and he felt frozen under your gaze.

“Can I stick them down your pants?”

Dabi licks his lips, a smirk coming over his face as he sits up completely now. “No,” Dabi says with a mocking look.

The look on your face incites something within Dabi. The look is territorial, it's sultry, and it stirs something within him.

“Your belt looks really tight on you…” You lament, and Dabi watches with widening eyes as you’re on all fours now. His eyes struggling to keep themselves from falling to your displayed cleavage. Your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip, “Let me loosen it for you?”

You’re crawling slowly towards Dabi, and he forgets how to speak as your fingers come to graze at his ankles. Dabi’s breathing staggers as you crawl onto his lap, your hips straddling his own. He feels as if he’s choking when you press your breasts flat against his chest, your hot breath hitting his ear. “Can I confess something?” You whisper into his ear.

Dabi exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he nods his head. You’re completely and utterly overwhelming him.

“In my head, we’re already having sex, so my opinion is we should just get it on already.” You confess as your lips press against his neck.

Dabi struggles to breathe as you pull away, your eyes locking on his. “Can I kiss you?” You ask your face leaning in titillating close. “I really want to kiss you.”

Dabi forgets how to say yes as he feels your lips ghost against his own, and his eyes fall closed. He’s waiting for you to press yourself against him completely.

“Aw, you guys are so cute!” A voice interrupts the two of you, and you screech falling off Dabi. “Ugly and disgusting, please never do it again!”

Twice peered his face into the doorway. A smile is heavy in his tone as he giggled at the two of you blushing and heaving like horny teenagers.

“I’m going to leave…” You whisper the energy between the two of you ruined.

“Y/n!” Dabi calls after you. He's angry with the fact that you were leaving and furious at Twice’s giggling expression.

“Sounds like you’re in trouble!” Twice laughs. “Clean yourself up!”

Dabi groans as he falls back onto his bed, why the fuck could he never do what he wanted with you?

Dabi was through. He was sexually-frustrated and now that he knew you wanted him? He was not going to let you slip away again.

He was going to fuck you by the end of the night.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

One

~ One Hour Later ~

You were in your room. Your hands rummaging through your drawers trying to find a better set of PJs. To be honest, you were sure that you were going to get laid tonight, but Dabi didn’t seem to be all that into it.

After last night, you were sure he would spring at the chance! He had, after all, pressed a raging boner against your back. So, you figured that he would take the opportunity to bed you right then and there. Even when Twice had walked in, you thought he would have fought you to keep you there. That he would clash with Twice for walking in. That he would pin you to the mattress and had his way with your regardless of the fact that you were being watched.

Sighing, you stripped off your clothes. They were especially picked out to stir some sort of reaction from him. It was disappointing that all you got was a blank stare as you slipped under his arm. You slipped on a pair of sweatpants, frowning. You had even worn your favorite pair of black lacy lingerie! But you guessed that there was time for this another day.

You went to grab your shirt that was on your bed, but the door slams open, and you shriek. Your arms moving to cover yourself.

You watch as Dabi closes the door behind him, locking it, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you--mmph?!”

His mouth is on yours the second you blink. The coolness of the staples in his chin press into your own chin and it sends chills down your spine. A gasp leaves your lips as you grip onto his sleeves, your head tilting to give a better angle for the two of you. His arms shift, and he grasps your ass tightly. You tear your lips away from his, panting heavily as he picks you up.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Dabi growls into your neck. His hair tickles your cheek, and his smoky aroma fills your senses. You laugh carelessly. You shiver at the feeling of his cold staples pressing into your warm skin, but still, you crave more.

“I’ve been teasing you for months now,” You confess as he tosses you on the bed, his eyes scouring your body. “You’re just an idiot who needed me on your lap to solve that out!”

His tongue runs a circle around your neck, and you shudder, “I think you need to shut up.” Dabi warns.

“Make me, pussy!” You counter and Dabi rolls his eyes. His hands seize your bra covered breasts in his hands, and he chuckles lightly at your whimper.

“I had to suffer twice within the past twenty-four hours...” Dabi drawls out his lips peppering scattered kisses along your chest. “I’m going to fuck you until you cum so fucking hard around my dick...”

The promise in his voice sends your heart pounding, and you tremble as you gaze into his vehement eyes.

“You know, typically when someone says ‘make me,’ you’re supposed to--”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Dabi snaps, his lips back on yours, and your eyes roll to the back of your eyes at the pressure.

He crawls on top of you, making you crawl backward, your head bumping the headboard of your bed. Dabi still on top of you as you pant. You sit up, your lips still dancing against his own, your hands locking into his thick hair. His lips are intoxicating. Pressing fully on yours. His hands gripping your waist and make you shudder from the strength of the hold.

Your thrust your hips upward, savoring in the fact that you were able to graze up against his pelvis.

“Stop fucking moving!” Dabi hisses against your lips, and you whine as his teeth bite down on your lower lip. You smile, your eyes watching at his lust-filled eyes. You wrap your legs around his waist and grind your hips into his crotch.

You yelp has his hands shove your hips back onto the bed, his mouth pulled back into a snarl, “Don’t fucking test me, baby girl.” He nearly seethes.

“You’re not giving me a reason to not test you!” You groan. You shift restlessly, your arousal getting to you, and yet you were now unable to do anything about it. Dabi’s scarred hand grabs your bra and he chuckles.

“Such a pretty bra,” He utters as your chest heaves. Your mind driving yourself crazy as you longed for him to do something, anything. “Were you wearing it all this time?”

“Nah,” You gasp as his fingers skillfully trace over your hardened nipples. “It was for Sako, I was waiting for him to reply to my ‘are you uP--’!!!” Your banter is harshly stopped as he burns the bra to a crisp. The snarl on his face turning sadistic as you look at him.

Before you could open your mouth to tell him off, the heated cavern of his mouth latches onto your left breast. His tongue lashing out to swipe out your nipples. “Yes,” You crave his touch, even more, and you tug on his on hair. “That feels--aah oh fuck--that feels so good!”

You arch into his mouth, wordless gasps pouring out of your mouth as you clench his thick hair in your hands. His left-hand pinch your free nipple, and you thrash against his hold, his name cried from your lips. His mouth and fingers were unrelenting. His teeth biting down harshly on your perked nipple, and his fingers rolled your other nipple. Pulling on it on occasion until your hips began to buck, desperate for some sort of friction.

His mouth leaves your breast with a fulfilling pop, and you tremble against the mattress. You pant while looking down at your flushed stained breasts. They shone with his saliva, and the cool air intensifying the sensitivity. “You’re pretty when you’re laying underneath me,” Dabi grins, a gleam in his eyes. You gaze at him with heavy-lidded eyes and he looks down, a smirk on his face. “But, you’re terrible at following directions,” Dabi states, victory lacing his eyes as you moan. You’ve never felt needier, and you were hoping he would just get to the point where he was railing you into the mattress.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry as you push his hands down to your needy sex, and you shiver against his fingers.

“I think I’m going to have to teach you a lesson on following rules.” Dabi teases as he slides his hands to your waistband.

“Don’t you dare fucking burn my pants and panties!” You warn as your head tilts backward, Dabi’s mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your neck. The coolness of the staples on his face almost steaming against your scorched skin.

“I’ll get you a new pair.” Dabi snickers as your remaining materials get burned off.

Your eyes widen, words unable to form as he pulls his shirt off his head. The smell of the burning material intermingling with the scent of your arousal, and his own aroma. You sit up and grab his belt, unbuckling it as his thrown shirt reaches the floor. You ignore his movements to get you to lean down as you manage to get his pants down to his knees.

"What are you doing?" Dabi pants. You ignore him as you lick your lips, staring at his awaiting cock.

You grasp his hard dick, and you smirk at his hiss. His dick was large, three large veins bulging out from the side, and your hand almost wrapped around it. You push him onto his ass and lean down, your tongue flicking out to touch the tip of his head. His smell is musty, the pre-cum leaking out of his tip salty and he moans. Your mouth envelopes around him, and he tugs your hair roughly. Your hands run up and down the parts of his cock that weren’t in your mouth. You stared at him, smiling as you slowly took him in until your lips touched the base of his dick. Your head is roughly pulled off, and you don’t know how, but your back's pressed back into the mattress. “I don’t fucking want your damn mouth around me right now,” Dabi grunts, the tip of his cock teasing your own entrance.

“Well fuck me, before I fuck myself and kick you out!” You cry out, your hands grasping onto his shoulders as he grinds further into you.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Dabi admits, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, and you dig your nails into his hips. “God, you’re fucking wet…”

“Fuck me, already!” You sob and with a satisfied snort, he picks up your leg and rams into you at full length.

Your head throws back, and a soundless scream emerges your lip. Gasps escape your mouth as you clench around his cock. Your breathing unleveled as you adjusted to his size. His damn girth was too much for you to handle, but his hips snapped back and slammed back into you.

“Dabi!” You shriek as your nails scrape down his back. His face buried into your neck, and the hot puffs of air send goosebumps down your body. You’re heaving as his speed increases steadily, your body not entirely adjusted. Despite the pain, you start rolling your hips against his. His hips are merciless, slamming into you over and over. The pained look on your face quickly dissolving into pleasure.

Sharp pants escape his mouth as he places his hands onto the pillow by your head. Your legs wrapping against his hips as you meet his with every thrust. Your arousal intensifies as a burning pressure erupts within you. Your head falling backward as you lacked the energy to keep your head up. “Look at me,” Dabi growls. The pleasure burns through your veins. It almost prohibits you from staring into his cerulean eyes. Your core felt as if it was on fire.

Dabi pushes himself off the mattress, grasping your hips as he continues to slam into you. The new angle is overwhelming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dig into his back. Tingles reaching your toes, and you find yourself curling your toes, as he slams into your g-spot.

“DABI!” You screech as he grunts, he angles himself into you in the same way. Ragged groans tumble out of your voice as he slams into your over, and over, and over. The tip of his dick never once missing. “Harder, please! Fuck!”

You choke as his left-hand clutches your throat, and you arch your back off the mattress again. “Fucking shit, you’re so damn tight.” Dabi gasps as his hips circle and slams back into you. The pressure in your core was only increasing as you felt his cock spasm from within you, and you cry. Your neck pushing up against his hand. “Do you need to come?” He asks, a desperate tone to his voice.

The build-up of the pressure was sending you over the edge, and you shoved his hand off your neck as you sit up. Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips pressing tightly against his own as you come hard around his dick. Ragged moans pour out of your mouth as his hips chase your orgasm, approaching his own.

Your pussy continues to spasm around his thrusting cock, your eyes clenched. Dabi’s mouth presses open kisses against you, and he curses your name. You moan as you feel his seed expelling within you, and he gasps. His hips stutter as they try to finish his final movements. Dabi collapses with you in his arms, the two of you panting for air as you lay there. Sweating, panting and kissing each other softly.

You pull away brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. “I seriously underestimated you,” You chuckle.

“I wanted to do that since day one…” Dabi sighs as he presses a kiss to your mouth.

“You didn’t have it in you!”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“And yet,” You shift in his arms burying your nose into the crook of his neck. “You still fucked me.”

[katedrakeohd]

What Happens in Paris...(7)

Masterlist

Back at the train, the men and women separate to get ready for the tea party. Down in Max and Drake’s shared room, Drake is sitting on his bed watching Max do his primp and polish in front of the mirror. Impeccably dressed in his black Gucci dress shirt and trousers, Maxwell is running a comb through his neatly trimmed hair and whistling. If he wasn’t his friend, Drake could almost hate him for it. His clothing style rarely changed. His way of taking his day look into a night look usually involved the undoing of a button on his shirt, and the addition of a hair product to keep himself looking sharp when he broke out the moves on the dance floor. Drake knew though, even by day when Maxwell appeared to be calm and collected there was always a three ring circus, complete with peacocks, going on inside his head.

Drake looked down at Maxwell’s shiny black shoes, and then glanced at his own scuffed and worn looking brown ones. As much as Drake didn’t want to dress all fancy for a Royal tea party today, he knew that Kate was expected to be there. Plus he wanted to witness the look of envy on Maddy’s face when Kate walked in all dressed up and stole away attention from the future Queen. Although he usually wouldn’t give a damn how he looked when he skulked his way into events after everyone else important arrived. This time he knew Kate would be under Liam’s lustful eye, and it made his stomach ache at the thought. If he was going to escort Kate into this stupid party, even as her seemingly platonic friend, he had to make an effort to fit in for his own peace of mind. Drake cleared his throat to get Maxwell’s attention. I can’t believe I’m doing this again. Heaven help me.

“Uh, Max? About this party today… I can’t exactly show up looking like some bum off the street. Could you help me pick out something fit to wear?”  

Maxwell gasped, dropping the lint roller he was using to remove fluff and hair from his trouser leg. “Really?! You’ll let me dress you up for two events in a row?”

Drake sighs, getting up from the bed and running his hands through his hair. “Well don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal. My grumpy best friend wants to impress a girl!”

Drake grimaced, “Tone it down will ya? Besides, you are not my best friend.”

Maxwell is unfazed by the brush off and just raises his eyebrows, nodding, “Oh right! We’re even better than that now. We’re family!”

Drake opens his mouth to protest and then closes it again. Technically Max was right, as painful as it was for him to admit. He raises his hands and gives Max an impatient head shake, “Alright! Alright! Whatever! Are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course I will. Show me what you got.”

Drake holds his hands out to the sides to display his current denim disaster.

“No, no silly.” Maxwell drags over Drake’s suitcase and flops it onto the bed. Drake places a protective hand on top, shakes his head.

“No point in looking in there," Drake grumbles.

“Okay then, to the Royal Closet we go.”

Kate sits in front of Hana’s portable makeup mirror, while Hana runs a round brush through her hair, coaxing it into soft waves. “I love your hair Kate, it’s so soft and manageable. What shampoo do you use?”

With a shrug, Kate admires her freshly painted fingernails. “Some kind of fruity scented stuff that I bought at the drugstore. Drake forgot to grab the matching conditioner when we showered, so I hope my hair doesn't get all full of static and frizz.”

Hana meets Kate's gaze in the mirror and they both giggle. “Oh my goodness, Kate. No wonder you two were late for breakfast.”

Trying to hide her blush in the lighted mirror was impossible, “Yeah, well I did interrupt him while he was shaving this morning. And damn he looked sexy in that bathrobe.”

Hana sighed with envy as she parted Kate’s hair and swept it behind her shoulder. Kate hands her the golden, flower embellished comb from the counter. “What’s it like Kate?”

“What?”

“Having a King and his best friend both in love with you?”

"It's not as fun as you might think. They've both staked their claim on me in some way and I hate being the rope in their tug of war. The worst part is that Liam has already lost me and he doesn't know it yet."

“Poor guy, he’s going to be crushed. What does Drake have that Liam doesn't?”

“He doesn't have the weight of the kingdom sitting on his head and shoulders, nor does he have a bunch of noble ladies fighting over him. Plus he’s nobody important to the press or tabloids. I’m not as worried about being seen with him, because I know he’ll protect me.”

“He’s not worried about being pulled into the Tariq scandal with you?” Hana asks, a look of concern on her face.

Kate shrugs, “I know he doesn't regret coming to my rescue, except for maybe the punches Tariq landed on his ribs. He was very much a gentleman about the whole thing, which is a lot more than I can say for Tariq.”

“But speaking of having two guys interested at the same time, what about Neville and Rashad?”

Hana wrinkles up her nose with a frown of disgust, “They're so boring. And neither were very nice to Penelope when we first met them.”

Kate applies a pale pink lip gloss to the center of her bottom lip to enhance her lipstick, pressing her lips together and then checking the results in the mirror, “Well frankly, since finding out she participated in the smear campaign against me, Penelope isn't one of my favorite people either. But I get what you’re saying, especially with Neville. He creeps me out in the same way Tariq does. Rashad seems to be marginally better than his friend as far as character goes, having made his own way as a businessman. He’s not depending on his Father’s money like Neville.”

Hana tilts her head, considering Kate’s thoughts. “I suppose you make a good point. But still, neither are as important, charismatic, charming or handsome as the King.”

Kate smirks, “Liam's definitely a charmer. I wonder sometimes what he sees in an ordinary barmaid like me. Or what Drake does either.”  Kate meets Hana's gaze in the mirror. "Am I really worth all this fuss? What's so special about me that loving one man must mean breaking the other's heart?"

"You mean besides your charisma, charm, intelligence and beauty? You're a genuinely nice person Kate, and everyone is drawn to you. The other women in the room envy you when the men all look your way."

Kate turns around to look up at Hana, seeing the admiration in her eyes. "You're all of these things and more, Hana."

Hana looks down at her shoes, shyly,  "I wish. My parents have invested so much into my training, refinement and education. But they've rarely praised me for any of my achievements. Sometimes I feel like they'd throw me at any available bachelor if it would raise my status on the social ladder, especially if it got our names in the media back home."

Standing up from her seat, Kate places her hands on Hana's shoulders. "Hey now, don't beat up on yourself. You're more than just some guy's arm candy or potential wife. You need to stand up and grab the future you want for yourself. To Hell with your parents’ expectations. I bet you could excel at anything you put your mind to. You don't need a man to raise your status. Be the strong independent woman I know you can be.”

Hana smiles, “Thanks Kate. I wish I’d met you years ago. You're the type of friend I've been missing all my life.”

Kate smiles back, “You’ve been here for me too, so it's only right that I return the favor.”

Stepping back from Hana, Kate strikes a pose with one hand on her hip, raising the other in a provocative sweep of her hair to highlight her face and bare shoulders. “So what do you think of my finished look?”

Hana smiles broadly, with a clap of approval at her stylish handiwork. “You're going to be hotter than the tea, that’s for sure.”

Kate winks, “Damn straight. We are.”

Drake stands outside of Kate's train compartment, fidgeting. Dressed in a crisp white dress shirt and dark grey trousers, with his hair combed and set with some of Maxwell's styling compound; he felt like a teenager on Prom night. Drying his sweaty hand on his thigh, he's reminded of how thin the fabric feels compared to his usual denim. The way the slim fit of the pant legs hugged his thighs made him feel so exposed, almost naked, and he was starting to regret not opting for his usual jeans. But Maxwell had assured him that he looked good, and that he’d fit in just fine at the party.

He hoped he looked good enough to escort Kate. The sudden absurdity of wanting to dress up for a tea party makes him chuckle and he shakes his head. Damn it Kate, what have you done to me?

Sucking in a deep breath he knocks on Kate’s door and waits.

…

Crouching down to secure the gold strap of her shoe around her ankle, Kate hears the buzzing sound of a text message coming from inside her purse. She glances up, “I bet that’s Drake.”

Hana gets a pinging sound on her phone seconds later, “It's a group text from Liam. The cars arranged to take us to the tea party have arrived. We're to meet in the dining car to coordinate who is traveling with whom.”

Kate breathes a sigh, picking up her clutch. “Ok, off we go then.”

.

Drake is leaning against the wall looking at his phone when he hears the sound of voices to his right, causing him to look up. Kate and Hana are giggling as they approach hand in hand, and then they stop as Kate sees Drake and gasps. “Oh..my...God! Look at you.”

With a smirk, Drake straightens up blushing. “What..do I look that bad?”

Kate shakes her head, then appraises Drake all over again with a head tilt and a slow look from head to toe and then back up again. “Nah, ah. Hardly. You’re looking like a tasty snack.”

Drake clears his throat, raising his eyebrows. “Heh, look who's talking. If I’m a snack you're definitely dessert.”

Hana grins at them both, rolling her eyes, “Ok lovebirds, quit with the flirty food talk and making eyes at each other we’ve got a party to get to.”

Stepping aside, Drake nods. “But of course, after you Ladies.”

Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes as Kate passes him in the hall, Drake falls into step a few paces behind them. Damn she smells nice, this party isn’t going to be torture at all.

:::

tagging: @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @mskaneko @speedyoperarascalparty @dcbbw @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @drakexwillow @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @gardeningourmet @drakesensworld @mfackenthal @thequeenchoices @debramcg1106 @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @wickedgypsymoon @griselda1121 @indiacater @texaskitten30 @nikkis1983 @lynne1993 @bobasheebaby @drakesfiance @moonlightgem7 @princessleac1 @janezillow @jlpplays1 @walker7519 @drakesensworld @furiousherringoperatortoad @samihatuli @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @rainbowsinthestorm @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @jessiembruno @msjpuddleduck @princess-andromeda-nazario @princess-geek @mom2000aggie @batgirlassociationofgothamcity @masterofbluff

[midnightmoonkiss]

Failed-Night Stand

Midoriya Izuku X Reader

Summary: A one night stand with a handsome stranger that doesn’t really end up being a one night stand.

WARNINGS!: Has some spicy mentions, ages 14+ !

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 3.5k+

Just to Clarify:

(B/F/N) = best friend name

(Agency) = the hero agency, you get to choose because I can’t.

This is an adult!au, where everyone has graduated UA years ago

                                         ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

A deep inhale cuts through the muffled city-morning sounds of birds chirping and cars honking, tired eyelids slowly fluttered open to reveal a room not at all yours. Light filtered in through the large, pristine window.

You slowly sat in a bed mind-blowingly comfortable, taking in the unfamiliar space. Nope. Definitely not yours. That was easy enough to tell, especially considering your room wasn’t light blue, nor were there walls lined with All Might figurines and assorted medals and trophies. 

Confusion momentarily sat in your system, the haze of sleep still residing in your mind gradually dissipated as tiny gears shifted into motion. 

Oh dear.

Groaning, you let your sitting form fall back against the bed with a soft thwump, letting your eyes slip back shut. It was pretty easy to tell what had happened last night, if your lack of clothes and the stale stench of sweat clinging to your body had anything to say about it.

An alcohol-induced one night stand.

With who? You couldn’t quite remember, despite the fact that the soreness in your throat came from screaming his name at some point in the night. It was impossible to even remember what took place, the last thing that you could recall happening was passionately kissing plump lips as large, warm hands traveled down exposed arms. One thing that you did remember, though, were his looks paired with an adorable personality. No doubt were they part of the reason you were here in the first place.

Judging from the lack of a person in bed and empty open bathroom connected with the room, he either left or was somewhere else in this apartment. You prayed for the first, not wanting to have another awkward encounter with someone you slept with the night before.

With a hum, you rolled out of bed, shakily getting to your feet. By god did it hurt to even stand, just how big and rough was this guy? He seemed like such a sweetheart.. Then again, most people lose themselves in the heat of the moment. It was quite flattering, really. 

As you stumbled about the room, picking up and putting on the undergarments you wore last night, memories slowly came into your mind. Alcohol was such a funky thing, only allowing you to remember certain things off the get go and wait for more to trickle in or figure others out. 

Luckily, or what seemed to be lucky anyway, the first was occurring.

                                            ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

The beat of drums pounded in your ears as you slurped at a cocktail, cringing at the almost addicting burn. Another Friday out late at a bar, drinking to soothe emotional cuts and bruises that manifested over the course of a particularly rough work week.

It’s always fun working late because your boss in an incompetent dick-wad.

Working in a hero agency is mostly everyone’s dream, but god were there always mountains of work and unreasonable deadlines.  

The desire to drink and relax with friends overthrew your weak sense of judgement, knowing it’d be better to have just stayed home with your beloved cat than go out and potentially get a migraine from the music that was too damn loud.

Luckily this night didn’t turn into what they usually did, no guys have tried to get into your pants yet, more than likely from the choice to dress cozy and not sleazy. Who wants a tight fitting dress when you could have a comfy sweater?

“You’ll n-ever believe who I met toooodaayyy~” (B/F/N), who was a horrific lightweight, slurred with that goofy drunken smile that always brought a laugh out of you. It was just too funny, childish glee radiating from them whenever their conscious got seized by the devil's drink.

“Who?” chuckled Katsumi, someone you had met in college and gotten along well enough  with to become friends and welcome into your pair, officially making it a group. Pretty sad how small it was. Perhaps you were all too picky with potential friends, who were you to complain though? It’s better being close to a select few then have an army of people you barely know, right?

(B/F/N)’s sweaty arm slithered behind your neck, bringing you closer to them as if to grasp onto their last bit of sanity before turning into an incomprehensible child to spew out their story.

“Ground~ Zerooo~! Can you believe it..? He’s soooo cut-e~”

“Yeah right!” Katsumi snorted, sipping at a fruity drink, something he was never afraid to order.

“I did..! Don’t you believe me, (Y/N)!”

Playfully, you tapped your chin with a finger, “Hmmm..”

The whine that you pulled from them was worth the act.

“I did! I did!” (B/F/N) felt the need to chant, arms raised high and face scrunched up in frustration. “Sure.”

“He smacked my ass!” They pouted,

Katsumi and you both shrieked with laughter, eyes watering from the no doubt large ass lie. My, how serious they looked too!

As if they’d ever meet a rising pro hero, the chances were too slim to even consider it. More than likely it was a weird dream they had but fought against it to make it seem real. We’ve all been there, haven’t we? Couldn’t blame ‘em.

Going to take another sip of your drink, desperate to cool down your overheated body from the heat drifting off everyone and mixing into one big shit show,disappointment flooded your being to find it empty, nothing but melting ice left in the glass. 

“I’m going to get another drink.” After getting a reluctant understanding nod from your friends, you stood up, waddling to the bar and plopping down on one of the highly used bar stools.

Surprisingly, it was cooler over here, no doubt from the many freezers resting near the bar to hold wine coolers, beer, and other assortment of drinks people liked to be cold. Ice could only do so much, especially when it melts faster than Olaf in front of that fire. Typically they lasted longer, but maybe time flew by without your comprehension of it doing so, causing the ice to melt faster than expected. It wasn’t fully melted, you’d give it that.

But that wasn’t to say it was all that pleasant, drunk off their mind young adults littered the other stools, shamelessly making out.

You huffed, unable to be one to talk on the account that you’ve personally been there before, much to your horror.

“What can I get you, (Y/N)?” Yokuto, the kind owner and barista of the bar in his mid fifties questioned, a small smile on his face at seeing one of his favorite customers. Has he mentioned that before? No. Did you believe it because you were somewhat narcissistic when tipsy? Yes.

“Mm..” Humming, (E/C) eyes looked over the large menu, “let’s go for an old fashioned.” A classic drink, good for giving you that delicious buzz without knocking you on your ass. Well, depending on how many you have that is. Hopefully that bite to eat before drinking tonight will do you a good service.

“Ah, look at you. Adventurous tonight, are we?” Yo teased, all too used to preparing you basic drinks.

“Shhshshshs.” You hushed him, not needing to go through the same conversation once a month despite it being one of the highlights of the night. Tonight would be relaxing, spent with your friends, boy were you determined to make that happ-

“Put it on my tab.” A man with a sweet yet deep voice interjected. Ah shit. Here we go.

You rubbed your temples, sighing. Of course this would happen when you didn’t want it to, that’s how it always works right? Can’t get laid when you want to, but suddenly everyone wants you the moment you’re not interested. ‘No. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.. Maybe.. He’s just being nice!’ Your mind decided, internally desperate to be left alone.

“Very well, sir!” Chirped Yo. The fucker. I mean, at least you get a free drink?

That was always a plus, especially considering your student loans often times left very little money to buy such expensive drinks. Typically old fashions weren’t expensive, but it always depended on the bar you went to. Either way, ten bucks seemed over priced. Because of this, t’s like this man was a godsend, because no doubt this drink would’ve been the last your budget could’ve allowed.

Turning, you were just about to offer a ‘thank you’ before your voice caught in a dry throat. My, my, my, a godsend indeed, in more ways than one. This man was absolutely gorgeous!

Disco lights reflected off his shimmering emerald irises, soft looking curly green hair bouncing as he took a seat beside you. Lord, did you just want to touch it. Surely he was making big bucks, that much you could tell from his appearance alone. A suit too pristine and finely fitted to him to be bought from any old plain store, a watch large and complicated to match. His face was gorgeously sculpted, but still somehow managed to have chubby cheeks leftover from childhood, skin clearer than a piece of paper. Not only that, but those faded freckles dusting his cheeks were the cutest thing imaginable, his smile--- his smile? Why was he smiling? Not that it mattered considering angels were singing around it, the golden glow of heaven behind his head,

“Hey?” Sound re-entered your ears upon seeing his kissable lips move, ah shit has he been speaking this entire time? And you just zoned out?! Fuckfuckfuck-

“H-hi..” You stuttered, currently too tipsy to feel all too embarrassed about it. “Thank you uh, for the drink..” It was hard to keep such an overactive mind focused on talking and not making yourself look like a fool in front of someone ten times out of your league. Hell, were you even trying to be in his league? A calm night, right? No hullabaloo. 

“No problem!!” His eyes shifted around the bar, smile now nervous as a light blush coated his cheeks, “I just.. Uh..”

It was almost impossible not to coo at the adorable sight in front of you.

He glanced back, your gaze following his own to a group sat at a table meters away, all holding men giving him a thumbs up. Now just what was that about?

Without giving it too much thought, you grabbed your drink and took a sip, patiently waiting for the mystery man to finish his thought.

“You’re just.. Really cute.. And I um.. Wanted to get to know you a bit..?” He stuttered out, gnawing on his plump bottom lip, the bastard. How dare he say and do something so enticing? Clearly without meaning to as well. Or perhaps this was his tactic all along, not that you were entirely beginning to mind. 

Besides, he did buy you a drink, what’s the harm in chatting for a bit?

                                           ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

Funny how chatting led you to a handsome man's apartment and unable to remember parts of the night. Were you complaining? Absolutely not. It was easy to admit that last night certainly helped bring your week to a nice ending, but the intense ache between your legs almost wasn’t worth it.

It was just then that the appetizing smell of bacon wafted under the bedroom door, or perhaps it was always there but you were too caught up in your own world to realize it. Regardless, your mouth watered, tummy rumbling from lack of food, but surely it wasn’t for you.

It was funny how he was still here, though you should expect as much since this was his place and it was a Saturday. 

Perhaps once you find your purse, you could grab breakfast at a Denny’s or something..

A shriek followed by violent coughing tore through your throat as the door suddenly opened, the savory smell of breakfast food hitting you full force.

Not allowing yourself the time to look at him, you turned around, “Ah s-sorry.. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute..”

Gah. He must be pissed that you’re still here. Forgetting about sulking, you took a step towards your discarded sweater, violently cringing at the awkward angle and pain. By no means were you a virgin, so the only way this could have happened was if the guy was absolutely humongous and rough as shit. Not like your lust-filled self would’ve minded.

“Wait wait! Ah, sit down! You’re in pain!” 

“Wha?” The clang of a tray being set down and dishes rattling echoed in the room as you were suddenly pushed back onto the bed.

“Wh-what are you-?!” You were shushed as a glass of water pressed against your dry lips, 

“Here, drink this. It’s water!”

Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes absentmindedly trailing up muscular arms all the way to his worried face. 

This all seemed a bit too suspicious, never having been treated so kindly after a one night stand. Well, so far ‘kindly’ was a bit of a stretch but at least you now had something to finally moisten your screaming throat.

Eagerly wrapping a hand around the cold glass, you chugged like your life depended on it, which it probably did considering how dehydrated you felt.

It was almost as if the water cleared your head more, for memories hit you like a freight train. Nervous touches, untrained yet gentle hands, sweet moans filtering through your ear, the pure ecstasy of last night. Your face flushed, teeth grinding slightly as you fought off the memories to actually look as professional as you could, as you were currently only in your undies.

“I. um.. I figured you would need some since you were..ah..”

Amusement flooded your being watching him suddenly turn red, his eyes trailing over your barely clothed body before whipping away to the other wall. What a gentleman. At least you remembered his name now, on the account of praising it last night. Midoriya Izuku. Cute.

Gulping down the last sip of water, you were dead set on teasing him, curious to see what reaction you’d get. Even though now and before he seemed like a shy baby, which he probably is, you remembered clearly how dominating and hot he was. “Screaming and moaning like a bitch in heat?”

“Gahh!” He shoved his red face in a pillow he grabbed, incoherent mumbling escaping the crevices of it.

Oh how precious he is. It was unusual to see an adult act this way, but it certainly was welcomed with open arms.

His head shot up, realization crossing his features. “Ah! You’re in pain right? I’m really sorry..” Guilt sunk in his shimmering mesmerizing eyes, sunlight bouncing off them from the open curtain adjacent to the bed. “I was.. I lost myself last night and was a bit too.. rough with you.  I’m sorry. Really, I am..”

He was apologizing..? This was new, but it sure did feel nice.

Just as you were about to speak, he picked up the tray beside him on the floor and plopped it into your lap.

“I uh! I made you breakfast-! The pill is a standard ibuprofen for the pain.”

It was as if his voice was made of honey from how sweet and smooth it was, the pure innocence of it wrapping around your body in a warm blanket.

How refreshing it was, but..

A teasing smile made its way to your lips,

“You’re new to this whole one night stand thing, aren’t you?”

His mouth opened and closed like a fish, the flustered man clearly trying to form a sentence in his head.

“I-I- I.. N-no um..”

Humming, you took the pill, washing it down with water before you cut off a piece of pancake, tugging it off the fork and into your mouth and almost moaning at the flavor.

Sighing in defeat, he pouted up at you, “How can you tell..?”

You licked your lips slowly, marveling at the way his eyes followed its movement, “One night stands don’t usually involve breakfast in bed.”

“Well.”

He stood up, moving to sit next to you, awkwardly patting his thighs as you munched on a piece of crispy bacon. “I was kind of hoping this wouldn’t just be a one night stand.”

Confusion contorted your face, “You want another round? I wouldn’t be opposed-”

“No!” He interjected hands waving frantically as his face burned a vibrant vermillion.

“I meant like..! Like me taking you out on a proper date or something..! I.. I don’t want this just to end..”

“What do you mean?”

“I like you.”

“...huh?”

He scratched at the back of his neck, praying to every god out there that he didn’t sound like a major creep. He wasn’t! You both just so happened to work in the same building, and his eyes just always naturally pick you out in a crowd, sometimes drifting to you when in the same room or passing by. Granted, he’s in his hero costume then where his secret identity is sealed from the public. It sure would be nice to tell you who he truly was,  but he couldn’t let his cover be blown. Even if he did like you, trust was something no longer so easily gained after having the career he did. He’s seen what happened to people like Shoto and Tenya, he had no intention of having ever part of his personal life blown up like theirs. And so, he would stay hidden behind a green and silver mask.

The dilemma at hand, though, was telling you of his affections without seeming like a creep they’ve never seen before, which he probably would anyway considering you had no idea he was Deku.

It was actually a pretty lucky thing he had no merchandise of himself, in his home out in plain view that would give himself away. True, he had no idea he’d be lucky enough to take you home, but he couldn’t help but feel bad about it. You both had been drinking, and before he knew it, you were beneath him in his bed.

He was a lucky man to have been able to get you there in the first place, but you seemed interested enough in him. Truthfully, he was scared you’d immediately leave upon waking up, wanting nothing to do with him like he’s always heard from his friends and their one night stand experiences. It was nice that you actually stayed and ate the breakfast he spent far too long on.

Here goes nothing.

“I’ve actually noticed you around work for a while now. You’re so reliable and kind to your co-workers, always the goofball cracking jokes to pass time.. Last night, my friends encouraged me to finally talk to you.”

Wait! He sounded like a total stalker just now didn’t he! Gah! You look like you think he’s a creep! Fuck! He probably is isn’t he! No! He isn’t- oh no,,

“N-not that I’m stalking you I swear! We just happened to be at the same bar at the same time..! I had no idea it would lead to this..”

What a word vomit. It was endearing, really. You couldn’t help but giggle, he was just so cute.

The giggling only made him blush harder, hands quickly going down to grasp at the hem of his shirt, a nervous habit he picked up somewhere along the line. 

“It’s okay~” You sang, immensely happy to know someone actually likes you and desperate to calm him down a bit, despite having no idea who this handsome stranger was. By god wait that sounded kind of creepy.

It’s not like you needed to know a stranger well to sleep with them, but it sure did peak your interests to know he was a fellow co-worker at a hero agency. 

“Thank you for the food, by the way.” You took another bite of fluffy pancakes, turning to look at him again, “So you work at (Agency)’s too? I’ve never seen you around before.”

You always had a knack for noticing almost everyone, and you pride yourself on knowing the majority of people considering you’ve been working there for three years now. It was strange, surely you’d notice such a strong stud.

Wait.

“Oh! You’re a hero, aren’t you? Those scars and muscles, paired with the fact that I've never seen you before, you must be?”

Shock slapped his face. Bingo.

“Heh. I knew it!”

That victorious smile that graced your lips immediately died off once you noticed him clearly internally freak out. He looked like he was about to pass out, eyes wide and pupils shrunk, mouth shakily trying to speak.

This certainly wasn’t how you wanted this to play out, but beggars can’t be choosers?

“H-hey calm down..! I don’t know who your hero persona is, if that helps!”

Geeze, you pulled yourself into a mess, didn't you?

Lips pulled into a worried straight line as you tried to calm him down by rubbing his shoulder.

“Oh! Ok, good! Ah..” He breathed a sigh of relief out his nose, chuckling bashfully, “That’s a relief.. I don’t think you’d be even the slightest bit interested in me if you knew the other guy first.”

It was hard to tell if this meant he had a completely different personality when in the suit, or if he just all around dislikes his normal self. Honestly, it doesn’t sound like it would at all be the first option. It wasn’t uncommon for heroes to prefer being their hero-sona rather than, well, them. ‘Confidence comes from the ability to impress and protect people!’ You recalled one hero exclaiming on the screen when that topic popped up late one night on a talk show interview.

It was sad to see such great people felt that way.

“Well. I don’t need the other guy. I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s possible, Midoriya.”

His face instantly brightened, that beautiful smile from last night resurfacing, the light from that window making it look like a halo formed around his head. Which wouldn’t be too weird considering he was practically an angel already. 

“R-Really?!” He excitedly asked, sparkles dancing in his eyes at the implications.

“Yes-”

“Then how about I take you on a date today then!! I know this really great restaurant and they sell these cheesy biscuits..!”

You would’ve gotten whiplash if you hadn’t already been expecting this. You smiled sweetly at him.

“I’d love that.”

Thus started your relationship with Izuku, unknowingly the bright pro her, Deku.

“But uh.. Can I get changed now..? And I need to call my friends-”

“Ah! Right! Yes, of course! Sorry-”

                                          ───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

[pixiegrl]

Just Want to Feel UnLost

So this fic is completely for @lifewasradical my The Maine buddy, (my wife), who listened to The Maine for 7 hours today and also looped them for the last 4 days with me. I love and appreciate you so much, your constant love and energy and general vibes of love and happiness are so wonderful and I love you! I hope you enjoy this! My love for you is neverending

On ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27733849

Luke’s excited to go out on tour again. He’s been restless to do it, ever since announcing CALM and preparing for the shows. Luke can’t wait to get out on stage, put on his favorite outfits and makeup, to get up there and share their music with everyone, to sing his favorite songs over and over again. He’s been restless ever since they stopped touring last year and he can’t wait to go back out on the road and see everyone again. 

He’s even more thrilled to be going out on tour because it means he can show off his ring. It means he can get up on stage every night and tell their fans over and over again about how much he loves Ashton, about how excited he is to get married, about how happy it makes him knowing that he and Ashton are finally going to formalize their love, that Luke gets to be Luke Hemmings-Irwin soon. He knows it’ll embarrass Ashton endlessly to be put on the spot like that, but Luke doesn’t care. He wants to tell everyone every single day how much he loves Ashton.

Luke’s been in a loop the last few days. While Ashton’s been playing through their set list, going downstairs for hours to practice the drums for all their songs, making sure he knows every note and change and that it's perfect, Luke’s been sitting outside listening to The Maine’s American Candy. He’s been stuck for days, looping the music again, happy and content. He knows he should be practicing, especially as the days to their first show approach closer and closer, but he can’t stop himself, plucking out the guitar chords of the songs, humming along to the music in his headphones. He’s been stuck on (Un)Lost now for a few days, caught up in the words of the song, the melody. The song’s always made him feel at home, John’s singing “Control what you can, Confront what you can’t, And always remember how lucky you are to have yourself,” sticks with him. The idea of not being found, but still feeling at peace in the work speaks to him in a way he never expected.

It’s how he feels about Ashton. Some days, Luke’s still not sure of himself, not sure of where he fits into the world, in his own body sometimes, but he always has Ashton. Ashton’s his home, his blanket, his comfort. Ashton always finds Luke, even when it’s hard for Luke to breathe, lost in the hazy of who he is and where he’s going, Ashton knows how to pull Luke back from the edge, give him a sense of being, ground him. Luke’s been focused on learning the song, wrapped up in connecting it to Ashton, of how much it reminds him of Ashton that he can’t focus on anything else, even their own music, for long enough to stop playing it.

It’s how Ashton finds him, two days before the tour is set to start. He’s outside again, sitting on a patio chair, humming along to (Un)Lost, testing the chords out on his guitar. He’d managed to convince Rian to ask John for the guitar chords to the song and he’s been determined to master them. Luke’s finally gotten them down enough that he can play the song without the music in front of him and he’s thrilled. He’s been out on the patio, hair pulled back with a headband, still wearing his pj shorts and one of Ashton’s old band shirts for the better part of the morning when Ashton joins him outside.

“Are you going to ever actually practice or are you just going to play this song while on tour?” Ashton asks, making his way over. Luke stops what he’s doing, turning his face up to Ashton. Wordlessly, Ashton leans down, kissing Luke on the lips, before sitting down next to him. Luke wrinkles his nose, trying to scoot away. Ashton looks at him, confused.

“You’re all sweaty,” He says, laughing when Ashton purposely tries to wrap his arms around Luke, pulling him in close.

“It’s cause I’ve been practicing for our show, unlike some people,” He teases. Luke sticks his tongue out, setting his guitar down to curl up next to Ashton. 

“I just really like this song.”

“Which one?” Ashton asks. Luke holds an earbud out to Ashton. Ashton takes it, sticking it in his ear. Luke plays it again, watching Ashton bop along to it next to him.

“Why do you like that one?”

“What do you mean?”

“It just sounds sad. ‘Not looking to be found’ and ‘being unaware of where you’re going.’ Usually you like happy songs. What on Earth made you pick this one?” 

“It’s not sad. It’s hopeful. You don’t have to be found or know where you’re going, just that you have a purpose to what you’re doing and that you want to be yourself. I like it. It makes me feel better about being who I am. Besides it reminds me of you,” Luke says, taking his earbud back and setting his phone down.

“Me?”

“Yeah. You help me not feel so lost sometimes. Like, even when I’m confused or uncertain, I know that I always have you to guide me along. Without you, I wouldn’t be confident wearing all the lingerie and makeup that I do. You’ve always encouraged me to just be true to myself. You help me take that leap because I know that no matter what, you’ll catch me,” Luke says. Ashton’s quiet next to him, humming slightly.

Luke glances over at Ashton, blushing when he sees how intensely Ashton’s staring at him. Ashton leans over, pulling Luke into a kiss, peppering them along Luke’s cheeks, his nose, his neck when Luke starts to laugh, squirming in Ashton’s grasp. 

“You’re gonna get me all gross,” Luke complains in mock offense, giggling and snorting when Ashton just tugs him closer, rubbing over him.

“Well, then we can just take a shower after and I can make you coffee and make you practice our actual music,” Ashton says. Luke laughs again, squealing a little when Ashton squeezes his waist, where he’s ticklish. Ashton does it again, smiling mischievously when Luke laughs again, saying Ashton’s name over and over again while Ashton torments him.

“I’m so close to learning this song though,” Luke whines when Ashton finally stops. Ashton stands, smirking as he picks Luke up in a bridal carry, causing Luke to shriek again, clinging onto Ashton’s shoulders.

“Unless you plan to play that song at our show, you have to actually practice our music. Since that’s what people are paying to see and if you miss up any of the words, you know they’ll tease us about it forever. Look what happened with Waste the Night,” Ashton says, carrying Luke inside and up towards their bedroom. Luke pauses, thinking about it. It’s actually not a bad idea for him to play the song on tour. He’s sure he can text Rian, get the number for John and ask (beg) to play the song live. He wants to show off Ashton to everyone, show that he’s engaged to Ashton in front of everyone. This song could be that, showing Ashton his love and appreciation every night, over and over again. What band can argue with that? They got Mark Hoppus to let them cover What’s My Age Again, and this would have to be easier to get permission for. Luke vows to get on his phone as soon as Ashton gets distracted and he can put his plan into motion. It has to be a surprise.

***

Luke’s vibrating with excitement backstage. He’s been so pumped for the last 30 minutes, jumping around happily and practicing his notes in the corner in between sips of his vodka and cranberry juice. Micahel’s rolled his eyes, calling him unbearably annoying and shoving him off, but he’s giggling just as widely, plucking out notes on his guitar and laughing along with Luke when he starts singing the opening notes of She Looks So Perfect. It’s the first show of the tour, the first night they get to go out on stage in front of everyone and the energy in the room is unmatched. Luke feels at home here, with his best friends, his soulmates, getting ready to do the thing they love. 

Despite how careful Luke is about what he wears on stage, he’s dressed up special for tonight, wearing a black sheer bra and panty set, covered in red and pink embroidery florals and little green vines stitched into it under his red silk shirt and leather trousers with his gold glitter boots. He’s wearing his gold eyeshadow and gold nail polish to match, highlighter dusting his cheeks, body glitter sparkling where his shirt is open, light pink gloss on his lips. He feels bolder tonight with his engagement ring and the thrill of starting a new tour and knowing what he’s going to do on stage. 

Ashton hasn’t taken his eyes off Luke since they got backstage. He’s watched Luke get ready, watched him put on his makeup, watched his mouth, his throat, everytime he takes a drink from his cup. He’s been staring at where Luke’s shirt is open, the edges of the lacy lingerie peeking out. Luke can’t see it, but he knows Ashton’s been looking at his ass in his trousers too whenever he turns around. Luke knows that Ashton loves the leather trousers, loves how Luke looks in them. Luke put them on in the hopes of what might happen after the show, but if the way Ashton’s looking at him, all heat and open desire, is anything to go by, Luke thinks he might be able to talk Ashton into starting now, before they go on stage. 

Luke corners Ashton in the bathroom when Ashton excuses himself. He ignores the knowing glances and eyebrow wiggles from Michael and Calum in favor of chasing after Ashton, darting into the room behind him and locking the door.

Ashton glances over at Luke in the sink mirror, making eye contact with him while he washes his hands. Ashton’s wearing a tight black button down shirt with tight black pants, both showing off his muscles, the material strained around his biceps and thighs. He’s styled his hair, dyed black, in his older Rockabilly style, one curl escaping the hold to fall into his eyes, and he hasn’t shaved in at least a day, stubble covering his cheeks. It makes Luke a little dizzy with want, imaging Ashton pinning him down and fucking him later, rubbing his face into Luke’s neck, over his skin, leaving him red and raw.

“Can I help you?” Ashton asks, aiming for casual, but just coming off as excited. Luke crosses the room quickly, pining Ashton against the sink and kissing him. Ashton gasps into the kiss, tilting Luke’s head to deepen the kiss, and flipping them, pining Luke to the counter. Luke moans into the kiss, throwing his arms around Ashton’s neck and hooking his leg around Ashton.

Ashton pulls back from him, panting a little, gazing up at Luke, “You look so fucking hot Bambi. God, your legs just go on and on for miles. Could eat you up.”

Ashton presses kisses to Luke’s neck, nipping at the skin. Luke gasps, rubbing against Ashton, trying to create friction between them, dick hard. He moans when Ashton bites him a little harder, getting a hand on Luke’s ass and pressing him closer.

“You’re gonna get me all red if you keep it up,” Luke says, broken gasps in between his words. Ashton grins against his skin, rubbing his cheek against Luke’s neck. Luke moans at the sensation, rough stubble against his smooth skin. He feels the curl of heat in his stomach, knows he’s hard and wet in his trousers.

“Maybe I want you to be. Let everyone out there know you’re mine and only mine.”

“I’m gonna be all sticky if you make me cum in my pants, Ash,” Luke gasps, bucking up when Ashton gets a hand on his dick and squeezes.

“So what do you want me to do about it?”

“Will you suck me off? Wanna feel you all night,” Luke moans out when Ashton bites his neck, squeezing him again. Ashton nods, wasting no time unbuttoning Luke’s trousers, pulling them and his panties down, letting Luke’s dick free of them, red and leaking. Ashton gets his mouth around Luke easily, swallowing him and rubbing his cheeks against Luke’s smooth, shaven thighs. Luke moans, throwing his head back, one hand in Ashton’s hair, one hand gripping the counter top. 

Ashton looks up at Luke, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, bobbing up and down, making a point of making sure his stubble catches on Luke’s skin. Luke moans at the sensation of rough and sharp on his thighs, knows he’s going to be pink and raw all night, knows that with how tight the leather is, he’ll feel it all night as he moves around, jumping around and playing his guitar. It’s thrilling, knowing he’ll have a bit of Ashton on him all night, reminding him of Ashton. 

Ashton continues to suck Luke off, running his tongue along the head of Luke’s dick, rubbing his cheeks on Luke over and over again. Luke moans, tightening his hold of Ashton’s hair and tugging. He’s hot, pulled tense from the sensations, thrilled knowing he’ll feel this for the rest of the show. He gasps when he cums, practically sobbing as Ashton swallows, throat bobbing and moaning too, the vibrations going through Luke. Ashton pulls off with a pop, lips wet and shiny, grinning up at Luke.

“God, come here,” Luke breathes out, tugging Ashton up to kiss him, getting his own hand on Ashton’s pants, undoing his button and pulling down pants and boxer briefs, pulling Ashton’s dick out and trying to give his own sloppy handjob. Ashton moans, rubbing his face against Luke’s neck, arching into Luke’s hand, bucking his hips a few times before he’s coming over Luke’s hand.

Luke wrinkles his nose, holding his hand out to the side away from his clothing. Ashton snorts at Luke, turning the water on behind them and tucking himself back into his pants while Luke washes his hands. 

“If you hate being dirty so much, why do you continue to insist on doing that?” Ashton asks, leaning down to take a drink from the sink, swishing the water around and spitting it out. Luke makes a face again, pulling up his own panties and leather, wiggling into it a little to get situated before he starts to button up.

“I just don’t want to get any on my shirt. It’ll ruin the material.”

Ashton snorts, “Should have thought of that before cornering me in the bathroom.”

“You kept looking at me. I can’t not do anything about it,” Luke mumbles, kissing Ashton softly. Ashton gives me a peck back, grinning into the kiss.

“Sap. Come on, we’ve gotta be on stage in 10 minutes and I’m worried the guys will start looking for us soon.”

Luke giggles, letting Ashton tug him out of the bathroom, enjoying the sensation of how raw his thighs feel rubbing against the leather. It’s grounding, a reminder of Ashton he’ll get to wear for the rest of the night, even if Calum and Michael keep giving Luke knowing glances when they get back.

The show starts without a hitch. They make it through the opening number, through the stage banter, through half the set list without forgetting the chords or the words or what they’re doing. Luke’s gotten to make at least 3 announcements about his engagement, held his ring up for everyone to see, called Ashton his soon to be husband enough times that he thinks Ashton’s face is just permanently red. It’s thrilling, everytime he gets to say he’s going to marry Ashton in front of everyone. Luke knows he’s going to have to play the song soon, knows it’s built into the set list right before Amnesia, so Ashton won’t be ready to play drums, but will still be surprised. It worked it out with Michael and Calum and their crew a few days, set it all up so everyone’s ready.

“So, this next song is actually a cover,” Luke announces, glancing behind him. Ashton’s frozen, mid sip of water, confusion on his face. 

“Is it really Luke?” Michael says into the mic, grinning at Luke, eyes flitting between the two of them.

“It is. Not many people know this, but I love The Maine. I love them so much that Ashton, my fiance, probably sings them in his sleep because of how much I play them. And do you know what else I love? Ashton. He’s the love of my life, my heart and soul, and I wanted to give him my own gift. This song is called (Un)Lost. I wanted to dedicate this to Ash, who’s always been my rock, my grounding force. Even when I’m lost and confused, Ashton always guides me home, guides me back to myself. He always reminds me to love myself and to be myself. He’s helped me grow in so many ways and I can’t possibly put into words how much I love him, so I wanted to play this song for him,” Luke says, half turned, staring at Ashton. Ashton’s mouth is opened in a silent “o,” frozen in place behind his drum kit. Luke plays the opening notes, hands working automatically to play the song he’s learned to play over the last week, words coming to him easily. Michael joins him, playing his own guitar chords, working in harmony with Luke as he stares at Ashton. He’s trying to will Ashton to understand him, to hear him as he says I’m not looking to be found, just want to feel unlost, wills Ashton to understand what Luke’s trying to say to him.

He finishes the song, plays the last note, staring at Ashton. There’s a beat where Ashton sits there silently before jumping up from behind his kit, crossing the stage in quick strides, wraps his arms around Luke and kisses him, tipping Luke backwards slightly. Luke stumbles, tilted backwards and off balance, before Ashton wraps his arm around him, steadying him while he keeps kissing him. Luke’s sure Ashton will keep kissing him, that he’ll keep kissing Ashton, if it wasn’t for Calum’s loud wolf whistle into the microphone, Michael’s laughter telling them to keep it in the bedroom. They pull apart, nose to nose while Ashton stares intensely into Luke’s eyes.

“I love you. I love you, so much I forget to tell you because it’s just part of who I am. I’ll find you over and over again if I have to, I’ll be your home, I’ll be whatever you need because I love you,” Ashton whispers, low enough that no one else can hear them. 

Luke tears up, reaching a hand up to brush a sweaty curl behind Ash’s ear, “I love you too. You’re my other half. I’ll be your rock, your everything as long as you’ll have me.”

Ashton grins, pressing a quick kiss to Luke’s lips before letting him go, letting him straighten up, regain his balance and remembering where he is. Michael and Calum are already teasing them both as Ashton goes back to the drum kit, but Luke can’t possibly care. He loves Ashton completely and wholly and everyone knows it. Luke doesn’t want to be found, he just wants to feel unlost, wants to feel purpose and he has that with Ashton. What more could he want?  

[purrfectstrangers]

The Crimson Emperor

Loud.

That was the only way to describe the throne room. It was loud.

Gold pillars upheld a gold celling that gold chandeliers hung from. It glittered and glowed to a blinding degree, only cut off by banners of a pink Peixes symbol that miscellaneously decorated the walls. Red carpets covered the white tiled floors, providing the only real color variation in the room.

Karkat had to squint as he was dragged in. The room seemed to be made out of pure pride and ego, like a neon sign loudly declaring "I am here, look at me, I am the center of your world". Karkat's eyes didn't have time to adjust before he was forced to his knees by the meaty hands on his shoulders. His head was forced up so he could stare at the center of it all. A big, garish, bedazzled throne, decked out in all matter of gems and designs, that currently seated Her Imperious Condescension.

If the room was loud, The Condesce was big.

The chair, more than big enough to hold three people, barely managed to fit her titanic ass. The Empress' royal attire wasn't fairing much better, stretched thinly across her breasts as it was. It resisted tearing in a way only latex could, highlighting every detail. Though it honestly seemed as if one movement too quick could rip it open. Not that Condy seemed to mind, the suit seemed tailor built to allow any troll to admire her at any time. It's not like she was hard to spot, she looked at least twelve feet tall, minus the hair and horns.

Condy hadn't even bothered to look up from her shell phone, she was reclined back into her seat like it was a couch. She seemed used to seeing prisoners brought before her, and Karkat could guess why. You didn't get a figure like that without a lot of meat in your diet. "Whale, buoys, what did you bring me? A small shrimp snack, a quick fuck, or a nice, big..." Condy stopped and did a double take as her eyes trailed down to Karkat. She did an honest double take, recognition and suprise crossing her features. Karkat really hoped it was the defiance in his eyes, like some kind of internal fire that intrigued her, but her reemerging smirk killed any chance of that. 

"...Buffet." Her shell phone snapped shut, a smug grin crossed her features as she stood up. Her hips bounced and swayed with every step, her strut was designed for that. It was hypnotizing, intoxicating even, to look at. "Whale, whale, what do we have here?" Even as Karkat was forced to stand, he barely came up to her thighs. The Condesce still had to bend over to speak to him. "Never thought I'd see a mutie like you again."

Karkat glared up at her. "ARE YOU DONE BEING NAUSEATINGLY SMUG? BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GOOD AT IT. I HAD TO PUT UP WITH SERKET FOR MOST OF MY LIFE, I CAN HANDLE A LITTLE ATTITUDE FROM YOU." Condy gasped in mock admonishment. "Why, Mutie. You've got some mouth on you. Judging from the last crabby shrimp I had to deal with, I was expecting some manners." Karkat's scowl tightened. "JUDGING FROM YOUR DECENDANT, I WAS EXPECTING YOU TO HAVE A PERSONALITY. YET, HERE YOU ARE, STUFFING YOURSELF ON PRISONERS TO SATIATE YOUR EGO, ALL WHILE WEARING THE TIGHTEST CLOTHES YOU CAN FIND IN THE HOPES THAT SOME SAD SAP WILL JACK OFF TO YOU. I'M UNIMPRESSED."

Condy cackled. "Oh, you poor little guppy. You have no idea what you're getting into do you?" Condy snapped her fingers. Quickly, the guards unlocked Karkat's cuffs, shoving him forward into Condy's arms before hustling off. The Empress simply hummed merrily as she lifted the troll up like a feather, the lift killing any rant he could start. "You've got such a creative mouth on you," she remarked, toying with his cheek, "I'll enjoy hearing you use it... after a break you."

Karkat sputtered. "WHA- BREAK ME! YOU COULDN'T BREAK A FUCKING PAPER BAG WITHOUT IT BEING SOFTENED UP FOR YOU FIRST. YOU'D BE LUCKY TO- AAaaaa-" Karkat's rant was cut off as Condy groped his ass, bedazzled claws scrapping against tight denim. "And you've got such a dumptruck on you too. Almost don't know which hole to break first. You a pred too, shrimp?" Karkat just scowled. "SOME OF US HAVE TO HUNT FOR OUR FOOD, BELIEVE IT OR NOT. IT'S ACTUALLY QUITE EXHILARATING, YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME." 

Condy lazily fell back into her throne, squishing her ass and jiggling her hips in one swoop. Karkat was preached on her lap, cradled like a baby. His exasperated expression told her exactly what he thought of that and she was loving it. "Between you and me, crabby, I'd love too. You should tell me more aboat it when you're... broken in." Condy snapped her fingers again, and a floating camera emerged from the floor, hovering around the duo. "For now, just be a good guppy and help me put on a show."

Televisions all across the Empire flickered, billions of shows and broadcasts were cut off. The Alternian Empire leaned forward eagerly. It was time for one of those very special broadcasts. "Buoys and gills, lend me your eyes." Condy said smugly, wrapping her claws around Karkat's cheeks. "We've got a very special toy joining us tonight." Karkat scowled and shoved her hand away, much to her amusement. "He's still got an attitude. Place your bets. How long will it last?" If the Condesce was amused, Karkat was equally unamused. "ARE YOU GOING TO START OR WHAT? CONTRARY TO WHAT YOU THINK, THE AUDIENCE ISN'T HERE TO WATCH YOU TALK." 

Condy smirked. "I'm gonna enjoy making you scream." Something writhed beneath Karkat's ass, something that stretched the latex to its breaking point. For a moment, Karkat almost looked nervous. "Yeah, there it is. You're a shrimp under that scowl, aren't ya Mutie?" Karkat tried to look eyes with her again, but she clearly wasn't buying it. "Don't worry, it'll only hurt a lot." 

The tip of a pink bulge creeped onto his lap, staining his jeans as it began to slink around his waist. Condy let out a low chuckle, sadistically showing her prey what she'll be ruining them with for the next few hours. "How big do your prey get, guppy?" Condy asked smugly. "Cause this? This is a solid ten feet." Condy stopped admiring her own bulge to drink in Karkat's expression. But... he wasn't scared. He didn't look unnerved, intimidated, or even suprised. Hell, he didn't even look mad.

He looked... unimpressed.

"...TEN FEET?" 

"That's what I said. Suprised?" 

Karkat blinked and shifted awkwardly.

"I MEAN, I GUESS. IT'S JUST... SHOULDN'T IT BE A LITTLE.... BIGGER?" Condy looked confused for a second, before nearly doubling over in laughter. "Bigger? Beach, any bigger and I'd pop you with it." She leaned in, talking down to him like a child. "What's the word on the street? 11? 13? What were you expectin?" Karkat just raised an eyebrow. "PRETTY SURE YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME BUT... ALRIGHT." Karkat casually unwrapped himself, shaking some pink slime off himself as he got up. He took a few steps back away from the throne.

"AT LEAST BIGGER THAN THIS."

Karkat unzipped his jeans and his bulge fell out with a thunk. The rest unsheathed slowly to reveal at least 15 feet of twisting, writhing, dripping meat. With a base that nearly encompassed his thighs, it was a miracle Karkat could even stand. 

The Condesce's silence could be heard around the world.

Her shocked awe was shared by the world. All anyone could was stare with mouths agape at the sheer girth of it. Karkat grinned. "YOU WERE SAYING?" Condy stammered. "I-Whale... uh..." The tip of Karkat's bulge jutted into her face, instantly flooding her nostrils with a musky, sweaty scent. "NO NO, GO ON. LET'S HERE IT. WHAT WERE YOU SAYING?" The Condescension took a deep, steadying breath. "I was sayin, uh..." A facsimile of her earlier smug demeanor returned, back it rang a lot more hollow. "I was saying, get that little thing over here." 

Karkat snorted, bemused. "GLADLY." The dripping red tentacle wrapped around her leg, pulling her off the throne with ease. Karkat loomed over her, camera hoovering over his shoulder. Even on the ground, Condy still tried to look smug. "Where you gonna put it, guppy?" Her eyes flickered between Karkat and the bulge. "Doesn't matter. I can handle it either way." Karkat just kneeled down, pulling her pants down to her ankles. It took some harsh tugging given how tightly her ass was wrapped in it. "I HOPE SO. I PLAN ON FITTING IT ALL IN." 

Condy's fins flared, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Why... Mutie..." 

"KARKAT. MY NAME IS KARKAT."

Karkat positioned himself over her, his hands wrapped around her arms as best as he could.

"HOW ABOUT YOU PRACTICE IT A LITTLE? BECAUSE I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU SCREAM IT."

Condy gasped wordlessly as Karkat's tip penetrated her nook. "I think, aha..." Condy bit her lip as Karkat burrowed into her, every little thrust shaking her body. "I think I hit the jackpot." Karkat grunted as he thrust in again, her abdomin already bulging. "I THINK I'M HITTING YOUR SWEET SPOT."  More accurately, he was hitting every spot. Condy moaned again. "Cod, feels like I'm sucking in a whole troll. Just a lot more... squirmy."

Karkat smirked. "LIKE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO DO TO ME?" Karkat pulled his sweater over his head, letting his glistening, sweaty chest free as he tossed the black cloth aside. The Empress licked her lips as she admired the view. "Like I might still do to you, Crab Kat." Karkat thrust in deeper, cutting Condy off as she stifled a grunt. "TRY IT, APPETIZER. WHEN I'M DONE, YOU'LL BE BEGGING FOR ME TO EAT YOU." Condy's claws wrapped around Karkat's shoulders. "Promise?" Karkat gave her a slow once over. 

"PROMISE."

That's when the niceties stopped.

The challenge was voiced, the gauntlet was thrown, and Karkat was done playing nice. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU JUST ASKED FOR." Karkat pulled back slowly. Dragging himself out inch by inch. Once he posed, he trust in.

One. Condy grunted, her abdomen bulged, her breasts jiggled like cheap balloons to a degree they shouldn't have been able too. 

Two. Condy gasped. Her legs spread. Her shirt creaked in protest.

Three. Condy screamed. Her legs wrapped around Karkat instinctively. Her latex top ripped and her womb bulged.

Karkat was only halfway in.

Past that point he sped up. Moving less like a sledgehammer and more like a jackhammer. Wet slapping sounds filled the air as Condy's mind raced. His sweaty scent was filling her nostrils, invading her mind. "SO FAR, YOU'RE REALLY NOT IMPRESSING ME." He barely sounded winded. "COMPARED TO OTHER PEOPLE I'VE MANAGED TO BREAK, I MEAN." Condy's ego roared at that, but was quickly shut up as another thrust forced a moan out of her. 

"I MEAN, FIRST THERE WAS NEPETA. SHE HAD WANTED ME FOR SWEEPS, SO I FINALLY ROLLED OVER AND GAVE HER WHAT SHE WANTED."

Karkat slid deeper still, and Condy's arms briefly spasmed.

"SHE LASTED THREE HOURS."

Karkat's grip tightened. Her mind fogged.

"THEN THERE WAS TEREZI. THAT WAS MORE OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. SHE WAS AT MY HIVE AND WE FIGURED, WHY NOT?"

Karkat growled. Condy's legs spasmed. She didn't notice either.

"SHE LASTED AN ENTIRE DAY."

She could smell him, his breath, his sweat. His voice drowned out her own.

"LAST ONE I HAD WAS VRISKA. SHE DARED ME THAT I COULDN'T BREAK HER. SHE WAS REAL SMUG ABOUT IT."

Her heartbeat pounded, roared in her chest. Despite that, she couldn't even hear it over his. She soundlessly screamed his name.

"SHE ONLY LASTED TEN MINUTES."

Karkat slid in with a pop, soon followed by his bulge blasting forth gallons of genetic material. Condy's gut ballooned, bloating out like a used condom. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth gapped open, her mind filled with static. As Her Imperious Condescension lay limp on the ground, all she could think about was Karkat Vantas.

"...STILL A LOT LONGER THAN YOU LASTED." Karkat got up, sheathing his bulge and pulling his jeans back up. He turned to the camera and halfheartedly gestured at the broken Empress. "IF ANY OF YOU ARE STILL WONDERING, THIS ISN'T HER SHOW ANYMORE. IT'S HARD FOR A STUFFED FISH TO RUN AN EMPIRE."

Condy laughed deliriously as she twitched on the ground. "Crab... kat. Crabby crabby kat. Karkat...." Karkat walked over to her, crouching down by her head. "Kat... oh, Karkat, yes.... oh...." He waved his hand in front of her face. It took a few seconds for her to follow it. "Yes... Karkat... darling... ?" 

"YOU'RE ON THE MENU. GET UP." Karkat stepped over her, taking his seat on the throne. Condy slowly got to her feet, swaying back and forth with each step. "A... meal... I've always wanted to be your... meal...." She ripped off what little was left of her shirt and quickly kicked away her pants to join them. She stood bare before him, covered only in her own sweat and material. Karkat put out his hand. "CROWN." 

The Imperial Crown. A symbol of unwavering power. Handed off to an off spectrum mutant without a single thought. Karkat rested the crown on top of his head, only pausing to shake some of her sweat off first. Condy bent over before him, showing off her gloriously thick ass. "If you want to take me... one more time..." Karkat raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I HAVE THREE BETTER ONES THAN YOU ALREADY. BESIDES, I'M HUNGRY." Condy fell forward onto her bloated belly, sticking her feet up into the air.

Karkat grabbed her ankles and gave one of her feet a tentative lick. He smacked his lips, his default, unimpressed scowl still crossing his face. "...GOOD ENOUGH." Karkat stuck the feet in his mouth, savoring the rich, salty taste of the former Empress. She tasted like a well cooked beef and was likely about as juicy. Still, this was hardly the epicenter of her flavor. Her ass on the other hand.

Karkat tilted his head back and swallowed, sucking in her legs like noodles to get the the juicy core of his meal. His stomachs growling was soon satiated, as it only took three gulps for her feet to bulge out his gut. Karkat tilted his head back forward, letting her ass rest on his his face and her bulgle hang loose on his chin. The Condesce, in the meantime, was just muttering his name with a far off expression, enjoying every moment of her devourment. Karkat's jaw clicked as it unhinged, forcing her ass in between his jaws one labored gulp at a time. 

Condy gasped as her master's tongue slathered all over her ruined nook and writhing bulge, her bulge wrapping itself around his tongue. Karkat just moaned in appreciation. Her rich, juicy flavor flooded his tastebuds and her succulent scent only enhanced the experience. He could've sat their for hours, exploring every inch of her ass with his tongue, but his stomach growled demandingly.

Her ass stretched his ribcage to their limits as his lips crept around her cum fillied belly. It sloshed and swayed with every gulp. With how badly he ruined her entrance, Karkat was worried one grip too tight would squeeze all the material out of her. "Oh, cod... you're so warm... so tight..." Condy twitched and moaned as his guts pulsated around her. "Eat me up.... come on, Karkat.... I'm yours..." Her breasts jiggled was one more swallow pressed her guts into his throat. Her hair fell into his eyes before brushed it away. Two big, juicy melons stood between him and his meal.

Glk!

Condy moan breathlessly in time with each gulp. Each nibble kneaded her flesh, each lick memorized her taste, each swallow sealed her fate. It wasn't long until her breasts were just two lumps in Karkat's throat. "I love you... so much... Thank you... for having me, Karkat." One more gulp sent her head down his throat and Karkat quickly slurped down her hair and horns like noodles.

A loud, crass belch rang out around the throne room. Karkat's gut gurgled and groaned as he rubbed it absent mindedly. "OH GOD..." He belched again, spraying put excess spit. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING FILLING." His stomach churned happily in agreement. Karkat looked at the camera. "THERE'RE GOING TO BE A FEW CHANGES AROUND HERE. BUT FIRST, I'M GOING TO SLEEP HER OFF." Karkat snapped his fingers and the camera disappeared.

~

Four days later. Four days later and she was still alive. His gut gurgled and churned around her softened for form and all she did was moan. She worshipped him, muttured his praises with her final shaky breaths. She didn't have much longer.

As she melted, Karkat sat back in his throne. His ever loyal servants -- Terezi, Nepeta, and Vriska -- messaged his grumbling gut and worshipped his body as he rested his head on his fist. His new crown showed off his symbol proudly and the drapes flaunted his royal crimson color.

Alternia would reach a new age of prosperity under The Crimson Emperor.

------------

AAAAAAAH I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS AMAZING STORY

God I will always swoon for Karkat. Call me the most loyal subject, holy shit. xwx

I wish I could properly credit you, but I really reeeeally appreciate this ;u;

[dolantmego]

94 and 95 with gray plsssss ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Alright. This is way too long and this the first ask that I have ever done. So hi doll! Thanks for sending in! I hope this is what you were looking for? Sorry it took so long I got carried away. Also this is the first like SMUT SMUT I’ve done so hello hi. Who knew I’d be doing all these things for Gray first? Lord above.

Warnings: Smut? Language? TERRIBLE WRITING????

94. “Saddle up doll.”

95. “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“Grayson you look like an idiot.” You giggle at Ethan’s words and nod in agreement, giving your boyfriend another once over. He’d forced the two of you to sit in the living room while he went to grab the surprise he’d been planning for the next video. The camera panned between Ethan and Grayson, who had deflated slightly.

“We’re going to the rodeo!” Gray imitates pulling guns out of side holsters and makes small noises while jumping from side to side. The whole ensemble–hat, chaps, boots, belt buckle, the hilarity of it all–struck you all at once. You couldn’t contain your laughter at this point and you start cackling.

“GRAY. THAT IS THE DUMBEST IDEA I HAVE EVER–” Ethan starts.

“ETHAN ITS PERFECT WE GET TO WEAR–”

“GET TO? GRAYSON YOU LOOK LIKE–”

“DON’T BE MEAN BRO ITS FOR FUN!”

“I’M NOT DOING THIS”

You slump back in your chair and listen to the boys argue. It was always funny, when one boy had an idea to do something stupid, the other hated it. And they would go back and forth and back and forth. But as always, lo and behold, a few hours later and the twins were decked out in the most ridiculous rodeo garb you’d ever seen.

Thank god you had chosen to be in the background for this video, because you were able to dawn something a bit more normal. I.e. jean shorts, boots, and a button up. The boys on the other hand–or Grayson rather–had gone all out. Huge belt buckles, colorful boots, chaps with fringe. They really looked dumb, cute, but dumb. But that was half the fun of hanging out with the two of them, they made life interesting.

It took all day to get footage of the boys running around and trying crazy stuff. You just thanked god that the bull had been mechanical. Seeing Grayson on a huge animal like that would have given you a heart attack. Not that both of them didn’t try to get on a real bull. As well as fail miserably on the mechanical one. You had been the one who had made it the longest atop the machine.

“What can I say gentlemen? I know how to ride.” You wink at Grayson, who had been secretly foaming at the mouth for you all day, but after that wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He pulls your hips against him by your belt loops, and wow were you just now noticing how sexy he actually looks in that hat. Ethan groans in annoyance, and grumbles about definitely NOT putting any of that in the video.

The final activity for the day was the one you were most looking forward to, going horseback riding. Luckily not at the rodeo since the boys weren’t into sticking around for the nightlife part of the experience. Which made sense since they a. Didn’t drink and b. Couldn’t drink. Not that you were complaining. The whole day had been fun, but the crowds of people, animals, and food had started to really unsettle your nerves. So a quiet horseback ride with your boyfriend after the camera shuts off was going to be the highlight of your day.

Both boys had lost the chaps by the time you got to the horse ranch. Grayson’s had ripped on his thighs and Ethan declared that if Grayson didn’t have to wear them than neither did he. So you looked like a relatively more normal crew. Or as normal as three teenagers dressed in rodeo outfits with an entire camera crew surrounding them screaming “PEACE” could possibly look.

As soon as the cameras are down Ethan hops off the horse and hands over the reigns to you. Your eyes go wide at being face to face with the prospect of getting on the giant creature. Had horses always been this big?

“Saddle up doll!” Ethan says chipperly. Usually the nickname makes you feel better–much to Gray’s annoyance–but not this time. You look back and forth between him and the horse, slightly panicked. “Y/N you haven’t shut up about this all day and now you’re not even gonna get on it?” Ethan huffs and tries to force you up onto the horse, but you can’t do it. It’s too big. You’re exhausted. This animal looks terrifying up close. No thanks.

“Maybe another time guys. I don’t think…” You trail off and look up to Grayson–still wearing the jeans, button up, and hat–and the air in your lungs evaporates. The sun is setting behind him and he looks tan and perfect on top of his horse. And he’s staring down at you with heat in his eyes.

“Just ride with me.” He says, holding a hand out to you to join him on his horse. You walk over slowly and take his hand, Ethan disappears to return the other horse to the stables. Grayson helps pull you up behind him and your arms instantly wrap tight around his waist. “ Come on mama. I gotcha.” He assures before flicking the reins so the horse moves toward one of the trails.

Once you get used to riding the horse it is actually really nice. The trail leads back through a wooded area, the sun is slowly setting, and being pressed up against Gray like you are right now? Well you couldn’t really complain. This would fuel your cowboy fantasies for the rest of your life. So much so that you’re flat against his back as you can be, peppering kisses on his shoulders, running a hand up his thigh when you can, and digging your small fingers into his waist.

Grayson stops the horse in front of an overlook and slides off the horse easily. He turns around and holds his hand out to you and you swear you almost swoon. How did he look so hot like this? The goofball persona now gone, and now he was just Gray. Gray dressed as a cowboy, but just Gray. Being himself and knocking you off your feet.

“Ma’am.” He says in a gravelly voice, as he pulls you down off the horse, pressing you against him as he slides you down his body. You turn bright red when you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. This boy could go from goofball to, well, daddy, in two seconds flat and it always shook you to your core. He lets you go once you reach the ground, and tips his hat to you dramatically.

“Why thank you…sir.” You return the small playful language and give him a slow once over and suck your lip in between your teeth. He was sweaty and he looked like every girl’s fantasy. You whimper slightly, and that? That is what does it.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and jerking you to him. He’d felt you press closer to him on the horse. Felt the bounce you had behind him. Your hands had drifted down to rub his thighs more than once. This boy is turned on and beyond ready to be inside of you. “Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” And before you can even open your mouth to say anything his hand is in your hair, pulling it back roughly and he is capturing your lips with his own.

You moan into the kiss and that gives him the access he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like the mint gum you gave him on the drive over, and vaguely of the cotton candy you’d shared at the fairgrounds. He tugs on your hair harder and his fingers dig into your hips. He loves it when you make the little sounds that you do, the pants and whimpers of want. You pull back to breathe and Grayson immediately moves to your neck, digging his fingers into your hips at bruising point now.

“Gray,” You pant, trying to get his attention, he hums into your neck, “Gray please.” He pulls back and takes your hand to pull you back from where the horses are to a tree on the edge of the trail. His tall frame traps you against the tree and his arms, his endless gorgeous arms, trap you between them.

“Don’t worry mama I’ll give you what you want.” He grins cockily and lifts you against his waist and the tree, you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist, a panicked look on your face. He chuckles again and runs his nose down your cheek lovingly, “Where’s my brave girl?” He rocks his hips against yours slowly. Enough so you’re eliciting those little whimpers again. “You looked so sexy up on that bull today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you bouncing like that on my cock.” He bites your neck and sucks the skin there hard enough to make you cry out. “But after that little stunt you pulled rubbing up on me on the horse?” He tisks and flicks his tongue before shoving you against the tree harder, “I just wanna see you take it.”

And with that he’s balancing you on the tree and unzipping your jeans and slipping them down your legs. You’re out on a random horseback trail bare from the waist down. And you’re begging him for it. He groans at the sight of you and you reach forward to help him unzip his pants enough to get his cock out.

Despite the fact that you’re dripping and Gray is beyond the need to be inside you, he still reaches forward to drag his fingers through your heat, swirling around in your wetness almost languidly. His fingers brush your clit each go around and you start squirming against him and the tree, needing more friction than he’s giving you. He chuckles and leads forward to get right next to your ear.

“Look at you Y/N. Squirming around from just my fingertips. You look like such a slut for me right now. You want it so bad you’ll let me fuck you against a tree, mama?” You nod frantically at his question and he nips your ear, “You know better than that mama. Use your words yeah?” He slips one finger inside of you and growls when you tighten around him, his cock gets impossibly harder.

“P-please Gray. Please I need you.” You whine, you actually whine form him. Nothing else has your focus at this moment expect doing anything you have to, to get this man inside of you. His finger feels good, but it’s not enough. Even when he adds a second finger and curls them inside you, you only whimper more. “It’s not enough please please I want to cum. I need you Gray.”

That seems to satisfy his needs to hear you beg because the next thing you know he is pushing into you hard and fast. Two fingers wasn’t enough to stretch you open for him and his pace is relentless. You’re sure his groans and your screams echo through the trees, and the nail marks in his back will definitely bruise tomorrow. But the way he feels inside of you makes you feel so full and tight, its got your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Rub that clit for me mama. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He groans, knowing he isn’t going to last for much longer. You reach down with the free hand that’s not wrapped around his neck and rub your finger over the hard bundle of nerves, your body tightens as that familiar feeling starts to wash over you. “Fuck Y/N you’re so tight. Cum for me baby. Come on.”

“I want you to fill me so bad Gray. So bad.” You whimper, and his pace quickens, he loved it when you begged for him to cum in you. You rub faster on your clit and finally hit that spot that has you practically milking Gray’s cock while you scream your release. He can’t take the sight of you coming undone for him like that and joins you, latching his mouth to your neck as his cock twitches inside you and fills you up like you love.

After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, grayson easily lets you down and you wobble on your legs slightly. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist before kissing your sweaty forehead.

“You’re so good for me.” He grins against your skin, and you smile back tiredly. “You’re a mess right now though.” You scoff in mock offense and shove him slightly. He grins and pats down your hair a bit before you smack him off so he doesn’t make it worse.

Gray, ever your sexy goofball.

[dface]

5 times peter found new mentors + the 1 time he has his old one back

+ 1: tony

Six months after Tony's funeral, Pepper invites Peter to dinner.

Before that, though, it's a regular Saturday morning. Peter wakes up to sunlight streaming across his face. He covers his face with his blanket, but there's a smile hidden beneath the folds of fabric.

"No nightmares," he whispers, as if saying it any louder would make it less true.

May peeks her head into his room. When she sees he's awake, she smiles.

"Hi honey," she says, "did you sleep okay?" There's a hidden question there, concern blanketed by love. Peter hears it, and he answers.

"Yeah. No nightmares."

May's grin grows as she walks in to sit on his bed.

"Really?" she says, and Peter nods. May looks like she might cry as she leans in to hug Peter close, pressing her lips to the side of his head. And it might be nothing, it might just be one lucky night where a patrol left Peter too tired to dream– but it feels like the first breath he's been able to take after months underwater.

May makes pancakes to celebrate. She burns the first three before Peter comes over to help, and then the rest are perfect, drowned in syrup and butter. Sitting across from each other at the table, Peter feels safe, the nagging thoughts in his head saying quiet.

"What are you thinking about?" May asks.

"Nothing," Peter says, and he means it in the best way.

Peter washes the dishes and May dries them, their casual conversation interrupted by a knock at the door. May goes to get it before Peter can, and her voice echoes through the hallway.

"Bucky! Good to see you again. Come in, please."

May rounds the corner, followed by a sheepish-looking Bucky in sweatpants and a hoodie.

"Hey Pete," Bucky says. He looks Peter up and down and lifts an eyebrow. "You choosing a new look for today?"

Peter glances down at his Star Wars pj pants and AC/DC shirt and then back up.

"No– Um, if you could just give me a second." He jogs to his bedroom before they can see the blush that crawls up his neck to his cheeks. He can still hear them talking as he changes.

"Where are you two exploring today?"

"We didn't quite get to all the corners of Brooklyn last week, so we'll finish up down in Gravesend and make our way around the edge, up towards Manhattan." There are creaks in the floorboards, most likely Bucky stepping closer to May to show her the map on his phone. Peter smiles as he tugs his shirt over his head.

"Thank you for doing this with him," he hears May say. "I know it's helped him so much, made him feel more in control."

"I'm glad I could help." There's a brief pause, a bit awkward, and then Bucky coughs. "Peter's a great kid."

Peter jogs back into the room before May can answer.

"Ready," he says, pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie. Bucky grins and nods.

"Alright, let's get going. Got a lot to cover today."

"Be careful, and have fun." May presses a kiss to Peter's forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too. See you tonight!"

As they stretch on the sidewalk, Bucky hands the phone to Peter.

"This is the route for the day," he says, and Peter peers at it. It's longer than usual, the red lines of the jogging path circling the water's edge.

"Looks good," Peter says, handing the phone back. "I'm ready."

They jog at a regular pace, sweating under the early afternoon sun. It's better for Peter to go slow, so he can focus on the streets around him, start to learn the patterns of every neighborhood. A few times they stop and stand a particular intersection, Bucky quizzing him on what he can remember.

"You're getting really good at this," Bucky says, as they run towards the center of Manhattan. Peter knows he could say he used to be so much better at it, that he'd spent most of his time after getting his powers just jumping from building to building– that he got so good, before, that he could travel around Queens with his eyes shut– but instead he smiles.

"Thanks," he says, because Bucky is right. He can tell that he's remembering everything better, even with all of the new skyscrapers and landmarks built during the blip.

They end their run a few buildings away from the Tower. Peter's clothes are soaked through– even in October, the New York summer still lingers.

"Wanna come up with me?" Bucky asks, swinging a thumb towards the door. "The team's been asking about you."

"Yeah, sure."

Peter doesn't come to the Tower often without his suit, so it feels weird, standing in the elevator with Bucky Barnes and a few Stark Industries workers, who are trying very hard not to stare. Bucky leads the way through the halls to the gym, opening the door for him that leads to the open floor space where the team normally warms up. Wanda is sitting by the open mat, chatting with Rhodey while she stretches. Sam is over at the other side of the gym, doing pull-ups on the bar hanging near the weight section. He stops halfway up when he spots Bucky and Peter, a smile spreading across his face.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Buggo," he says to Peter. He looks over him, like he's checking for injuries, on or below the surface. "You look like you just came out of a Rocky training montage."

Peter swipes his hand across his sweaty forehead and flicks it towards Sam.

"Very funny," he says, as Sam pulls a face of disgust. "Bucky and I just finished running the rest of Brooklyn today."

"Yeah, he was telling me about what he had mapped out," Sam says, his eyes roving over Bucky's face, something like fondness in his expression. "How was it?"

"Good." Bucky plays it cool, though there's no hiding the softness in his eyes, the curve of his lips. He doesn't smile much when Peter hangs with him, unless Peter trips or tells a ridiculously bad joke. If Sam's there, though, the careful wall Bucky keeps just drops.

"I'm gonna grab us some waters," Bucky says to Peter, walking towards the fridges.

In the silence, Peter shifts from side to side. It's weird, being at the Tower, but not to train. He feels like someone on the sidelines, like he's a fan waiting to take a picture with 'the new Captain America'.

"How's school going?" Sam asks, crossing his arms against his chest.

"It's alright. Weird from all the blip stuff, but it's good to be with my friends." Seeing Ned in the school hallway after the blip made the grip on Peter's chest loosen, letting the air he so desperately needed back in, clearing his vision.

"That's good. Did you end up meeting with Andrea?" Sam asks.

"Oh yeah, on Friday after school."

"How did you like her?"

"She was really nice. We made a plan for a session next week."

"That's good," Sam says, slapping a hand on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, for taking that step."

Peter smiles. When Sam had first brought up the name of his therapist friend, during one of their movie nights at Sam's apartment a month ago, Peter made an excuse about needing to get home and jumped out of the window. The idea of sitting in a small room and opening up to a stranger felt worse than a gunshot wound. Sam didn't bring it up again, understanding that Peter wasn't ready to make that step. However, after another week of nightmares, May sitting up all night with him despite having to work the next day, Peter realized he could use the help. He asked Sam about it and he helped schedule an introductory appointment.

"Thanks," Peter says, meaning it in more than one way. Sam seems to get it, his smile softening with something like pride. Bucky comes back over, handing Peter a glass of water.

"Maria's asking for you," he says to Sam. "Says she has something you need to check out."

The two of them share a look, and then Sam sighs.

"Alright, let me suit up," he says, and looks over at Peter. "Need a ride to Queens?"

"No, I uh–" Peter grins. "I brought my suit, so I'm gonna patrol on my way back."

"Sounds good. Be careful."

"You got it, Cap."

Sam shakes his head, though he smiles when he says, "Alright, twerp. Go on."

Peter changes in the locker room and then jumps off the balcony with a one-handed wave at Bucky.

"See you next week," he calls, his stomach swooping as gravity pulls him towards the pavement. He shoots a web and lets out a whoop as he's sent back up into the sky. It's as if he's made of air. The city around him feels more like home with every passing day, less like the maze he often found himself lost in.

"KAREN, quiz me," he says, running along the side of a glass building before shooting another web and jumping off.

"Find the quickest way to Williamsburg bridge."

"Easy."

Peter can see the city like a map in his head, all the streets and where they cross. He leaps over buildings, using his gliders to fly through the air over several blocks before landing on an apartment building in front of the bridge.

"How was that, K?"

"Great work, Peter."

He swings across the bridge, waving at kids in their cars as he passes them.

"There's a getaway car headed down Grant towards Queens."

"On it!" Peter jumps and twists in mid-air, taking a sharp right from the bridge. KAREN highlights the car's route in blue in his vision, but his senses could pick it up without it. Everything feels crystal clear and sharp– he was never out of shape, but all the training with the team and running with Bucky has helped remind his body of its power. He catches up to the car in minutes, shooting webs at the wheels and digging his feet into the cement street. Once the car is secure, the driver webbed to the street, and pedestrians are safe, Peter flips up to the telephone pole and continues home.

"Your memory of the area is improving every day, Peter."

"Thanks K. It feels good, y'know? I feel more like myself."

By the time he gets back to the apartment, he is once again sticky with sweat.

"I'm home," he says, throwing his keys onto the coffee table. He hears May call out from her room– most likely getting ready for her shift at the hospital.

"M'gonna take a shower," he says, and after she doesn't respond, grabs his towel and walks to the bathroom.

Standing under the water spray, Peter closes his eyes. It's still hard– his mind loves to wander, to pull up memories he'd rather forget. Now, it uses the heat of the shower to remind him of how his nerves had flared on Titan, how his body had burned with a fever while trying to keep itself together. It had felt like something was ripping his cells into pieces while he fought back, all the while knowing that it was a battle he wasn't going to win.

Peter opens his eyes. He puts a hand on his chest and feels his heartbeat, breathes carefully until it slows to a more regular tempo. You're not there, he tells himself. You're home. The tightness in his chest loosens, his shoulders dropping, muscles uncoiling.

As the water turns more lukewarm than hot, Peter finishes rinsing off and then steps out of the shower. On the corner of the bathroom sink, his phone rings. Peter leans over to check the caller name and almost falls over, feet sliding on the bathroom tiles. The name Pepper Potts waits patiently while Peter wraps his towel around his waist and answers the phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub.

"Hello?" he says.

"Peter?" and it's definitely Pepper– Peter's only talked with her a few times, when he and Tony had to be dragged out of the lab for dinner, or at the gala's Tony brought him along to. She was always somewhat far away, dealing with the press or the company– but he could remember her smile when they first met, the warmth in her expression during every conversation with her.

"Yes, it's me," Peter says, and immediately squeezes his eyes shut, reaching up to tug on his hair.

"Do you have a minute?"

Peter's towel is almost soaked through where he is sitting, puddles of water forming near his feet, dropping from the ends of his hair and rolling down his back.

"Yeah, of course!" Peter says, ignoring the shiver that runs through him. "What's up?"

"How are you doing?" Pepper asks, her voice suddenly softer, gentle. It reminds Peter of the therapist he talked to the week before, like an instant reminder of how he's been suffering.

"I'm alright, keeping myself busy," he says, careful to keep his tone light. "How are you? And Morgan?"

"We're alright. Like you said, keeping busy. Morgan just started kindergarten, actually, which is wonderful and terrifying."

"Oh, wow," Peter says, because he isn't sure what else to say. He still hasn't really met Morgan, just saw her at a distance at the funeral. He saw Tony in her features and had to look away, embarrassed at how easily he had started to cry.

"Anyway," Pepper continues, pulling Peter out of his thoughts, "I wanted to invite you to dinner. This evening actually. I know it's a bit last minute, but–"

"No," Peter interrupts, and then backtracks. "I mean, it's okay. May's working a late shift tonight so I wasn't planning on doing anything anyway."

"Great," Pepper says neatly, sounding much more like herself, now that there are plans to be made. "Happy can pick you up around four."

"That sounds great," Peter says, mostly because he doesn't think he could say no to Pepper Potts even if he tried.

"See you then," Pepper says, and Peter can barely manage an okay because she hangs up. He sits where he is for a minute, phone still pressed to his ear. Then, like he's regained control of his limbs, he leaps up and runs to his room, one hand clenched around his waist to hold the towel up.

"May!"

She jogs into the living room immediately, halfway through braiding her hair back.

"What's wrong? What happened?" she asks, eyes wide.

Peter relays the call to her, a small puddle forming around his feet. At the end of it, May is staring at him with a soft smile, something warm in her eyes he can't take the time to figure out.

"So what do I do?" he says, running a hand through his dripping hair.

"What do you mean?"

"Should I bring something?" Peter looks around the room, as if the answer will be written on one of the walls. His eyes lock on May's set of wine glasses. "Wine? Should I bring wine?"

"Peter, you can't buy alcohol," May says.

"Well should I make food?"

"You can't cook."

"Help me, May!" Peter squeaks, his hands in his hair. "I'm freaking out."

May moves to him, pulling his hands from his head and holding them.

"Peter, honey," she says fondly, "it's okay. It's just dinner."

"Except it's not," Peter says, frowning. "It's more important than that."

"Okay, then let's find you a nice shirt." May stands by as Peter digs through his drawers, tossing graphic tees and plaid button-downs onto a mountain of a pile. Finally, he finds a dress shirt he wore when Midtown had a mock Presidential election– he was going for Treasury, Ned was President.

May leaves while he gets ready, pulling on his nicest pair of jeans and combing his hair back. Peter stares at himself in the mirror, pulling at the sleeves. The shirt is somehow still a little big on him, despite filling out since wearing it the first time. He unbuttons the top button and then redoes it with a shake of his head.

"May, I think I need a tie," he says, walking out into the living room. He stops after a few steps, the hair on his neck standing up.

"You don't need one." a voice says, and Peter whirls around. Happy is standing in the doorway, grinning as he looks him over. May must have let him in, though she's now banging around in the kitchen, grabbing a snack before her shift.

"You're early," Peter says, his heart crawling up his throat. He hadn't heard him coming, even with his senses. Normally he could hear people's steps in the stairway, or the ding of the escalator when it reached their floor.

"Yeah, traffic was better than I had thought it would be," Happy says, proud of himself. "You ready to go?"

Peter turns his head as May walks in, tugging at her scrubs. She must have let Happy in, because she isn't surprised at him being there, just smiles kindly over at him. Opening her mouth, she asks him a question, though Peter can't hear it over the thumping of his heart.

If he didn't hear May let Happy in, who knows what he wouldn't hear any other day? Someone could break in and he wouldn't hear it. Are his super-senses going away?

"Peter," Happy says, and now he and May are both staring. "You ready?"

With a slow inhale, Peter forces himself to relax. His spider-sense protects him when he's in danger– Happy is not a threat, and his body knows that. It doesn't mean it wouldn't protect him from actual danger.

"Yeah," he says, once he can hear over his heartbeat again. "I'm ready." He kisses May on the cheek and walks after Happy to the sleek black car parked in front of the apartment building.

They drive through the streets of Queens in silence, other than the occasional grumble about taxi drivers from Happy. Peter scrolls through his twitter, trying to ignore the anxious thoughts that race around in his head. Everything is fine.

"So," Happy starts, and his eyes meet Peter's in the mirror, "have you talked to Sam recently?"

"Yeah, I saw him at the Tower today," Peter says, looking down at his phone.

"Did he set you up with that therapist friend of his? Amanda?"

"Andrea," Peter corrects. "I went in to meet her last week."

"Okay, good," Happy says. They spend a few minutes in silence, the radio on low, playing some whiny pop song.

"Have you seen Bruce recently?"

"Yeah, he helped me with my science project a bit ago, which was cool." Peter grins at the memory. "I brought Ned and he fainted."

"Good, good," Happy says, and then makes eyes at Peter in the mirror again. "Rhodey says you haven't called him in a minute."

Peter squints at him.

"Am I being interrogated for some reason?" he asks. "What's with all the questions?"

Happy huffs.

"I wouldn't have to ask you so many questions if you just told me things–"

"Oh, okay. First you tell me off for talking too much, now you wanna say I don't talk enough–"

"Okay, enough," Happy barks. "I was just… I'm just curious."

Peter sees through it.

"You're worried about me," he says, and Happy rolls his eyes.

"Whatever."

Grinning, Peter looks back to his phone. They spend the next hour in relative silence, cruising down the highway towards Pepper's cabin. Peter remembers parts of the ride from when he travelled there for the funeral, though it's very blurry in his memory. He wasn't really all there, six months ago. It had only been a few days since the battle on the compound. Peter had showered, wiped clean of all the dirt and grime, but standing there in that crisp suit, he had still felt like he was covered in blood.

Six months later, those feelings are bound to spring up again. Peter focuses on his breathing whenever it feels too hard, remembering the exercises Andrea had just taught him. It doesn't make anything less painful, but it makes it easy to get through it.

Happy takes the exit to the right and they turn in a slow circle. Off the highway and surrounded by trees, the world feels much quieter, like lives stop existing after a certain spot. Peter's heart clenches as he looks out the window, seeing how the road twists and turns. Happy takes an exit that Peter already knows is the private drive up to the cabin, and their eyes meet in the mirror.

"Are you nervous?" Happy asks.

"What?"

Happy nods towards Peter's bouncing leg, how his hands are playing with a thread on his sweater.

"You seem nervous," he says. "About tonight?"

"Well now that you mention it, yeah," Peter says, rolling his eyes.

"But you know Pepper. And you met Morgan, at the funeral."

"I barely saw either of them there, and it wasn't really a great time to talk." Peter tries to joke, but the memory of the funeral brings him surprisingly close to tears. He runs a hand over his face, turning his attention to the blur of trees outside. Happy is quiet for a few minutes, sensing the change in demeanor. The car slows as they pull into the driveway, the cabin off to the left of them. The lake is so still it looks frozen.

Happy shuts off the car and twists in the seat to look at Peter.

"Just relax," he says, offering a small smile. "It's okay."

Peter nods. Taking a deep breath, he gets out of the car, walking up the hill towards the cabin. In the grass between the house and the lake, there's a mini playground set up, the youngest Stark in the middle of it.

"Peter!" Morgan says, jumping off her swing to run over. She latches onto his legs, staring up at him with that familiar smirk. Peter's heart breaks and soars at the same time.

"Hi Morgan." He quirks an eyebrow. "Do you remember me?" He has a faint memory of being introduced to her during the funeral, very quickly.

"My Daddy told me about you," Morgan says. She tugs on his arm until he leans closer, and then whispers, "You're Spider-man."

It takes all of Peter's strength to not completely crumble.

"Yeah," he says, his throat tight, "but it's a secret. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

Morgan mimes zipping her lips before running back to her playground. Peter spots Pepper, standing on the steps of the cabin, watching the two of them. She has the look of someone grieving, all her edges sharp, stories of sleepless nights in the lines on her face, but she smiles when Peter meets her stare. She steps down to greet him.

"Hi Peter," she says warmly, opening her arms. Peter's eyes burn. The last time he hugged her was at the funeral, but that had been nothing– she had been numb when saying her hellos and receiving everyone's condolences, her blue eyes dulled to gray. Her arms had felt wooden wrapped around Peter– though he hadn't minded, being pretty wooden himself.

This time though, her arms feel strong as she squeezes him, almost shaking with the effort. It feels like she's trying to apologize with sheer force, muscling through the pain that courses through the both of them like an electric current.

"I'm sorry I didn't have you over sooner," Pepper says as they pull apart. There's a pain in her expression that Peter has seen in the mirror for the last six months.

"Don't worry about it," he says quickly. "I understand." Of course, he doesn't truly, not the extent of the loss she must have felt, must still be feeling– but Pepper seems to understand, her smile tight but still warm, and the urge to explain himself dies in Peter's throat.

Pepper leads him into the cabin. It seems smaller than it was at the funeral, though Peter soon realizes it just looks lived in, rather than tidied up for black-tie guests. Morgan's drawings hang on every empty space on the wall, illustrations of dogs and flowers and many, many depictions of Iron Man flying across the sky. There are toys and books scattered around the floor of the living room, and a dark couch that Peter has the urge to sink into, and a warmth to the space that makes him feel safe.

They eat dinner all together, Peter sitting opposite Morgan. She tells him about her art project for school, proves to him that she can count up to forty, and tries to drag him away to her room to show off her new toys.

"Morgan, sweetheart, finish your veggies first. Then you can give Peter a tour." Pepper smiles at Peter. "Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not."

Pepper doesn't ask how he's doing, if he's sleeping, if he likes school, and Peter is thankful. Instead, they chat about Morgan's favorite books, the movies released in the past five years that Peter needs to watch, Happy's new goatee. Morgan plays with her fork and knife, making them hop around the edge of her plate. It's one of those moments, where Peter can almost forget everything that's been hurting.

After dinner, Peter follows Morgan around the cabin, watching closely as she shows him her favorite stuffed animals and books. He grins the whole way through, and it's easy– everything feels so simple when Morgan is staring up at him with that mischievous spark in her eyes, plucked right from her father's face. He plays hide and seek with her until Pepper comes looking.

"Morgan, it's time for bed."

"But Mom, I have to find Petey first!"

Peter unsticks himself from the bottom of her desk, lands softly on his toes, and crawls out from underneath.

"What do you mean?" he says, and Morgan spins around. "I'm right here."

"Peter!" Morgan runs and hugs him, giggling. Peter catches her easily– she might as well be made of air, with his strength– and lifts her up as he stands. He passes her easily to Pepper's arms and waves goodbye as Pepper takes her to the bathroom to brush her teeth, and then walks to the living room and collapses on the couch. Happy, sitting in the armchair closest to the fireplace, looks up from his phone.

"She tire you out?" he asks, with a knowing smile.

"Kids are insane," Peter says, "I thought I had energy."

"Now you know how I feel, watching over you."

Peter throws a pillow towards Happy, hitting him square in the face. Happy sputters as Peter laughs, his head falling back on the couch. When he settles, his eyes take in the space around them.

"This place is really nice," he says. "I don't think I really noticed it at the funeral."

He can feel Happy staring at him.

"You could come here more often," Happy says, and Peter looks up.

"Pretty sure that's Pepper's line," he says.

Happy rolls his eyes.

"She's talked with me about it."

Peter blinks.

"Oh," he says, unable to form anything more coherent. He tries to imagine more trips up here, weekend dinners with May included, nights watching Morgan, watching her grow up. The feeling of family, reinvented. His throat tightens like he might cry, but he breathes through it.

"That would be nice," he says, avoiding Happy's eyes.

"Good," Happy says, staring into the fireplace and away from Peter's face.

They sit in comfortable silence until Pepper comes back in, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"And she's down," she says, with a grin. "For a few hours, at least." She glances at Happy. "Can I grab Peter, for a second? Before you drive him home."

"Of course." Happy stands, scratching at his beard. "I'll be waiting in the car."

"We won't be long." Pepper waits until Happy retreats, and then looks at Peter. "C'mon, I have something to show you."

Peter follows her down to the basement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The stairs lead down to an open lab space, a large desk in the middle of the room. It looks as if someone was just working at it, except for the fine layer of dust on every surface.

"This was where Tony figured out how to time travel," Pepper says quietly, waving a hand around the space. She walks around the desk and pulls out an old Iron Man helmet. A shiver runs through Peter, staring at the shining gold and red metal. Pepper places it on the edge of the desk and looks at Peter.

"He told me to show this to you, but I forgot about it until a few weeks ago. I'm sorry it took so long." She presses the button inside the helmet and the eyes light up, sending out beams of blue. After a moment, the image forms, and Tony is sitting on a chair in front of them.

Peter's heart stops altogether. He knows that it's just a projection of a recording– but it looks so real, so much like the man he hasn't seen in half a year.

Video-Tony waves at him.

"Hi, kid," he says, and Peter's eyes burn. It is so familiar, so lifelike, an instant comfort to the hole in his chest, and yet also a reminder of what's been lost, what will continue to be gone.

Tony sighs, dropping his head.

"It feels weird to make this, since you're–" he clears his throat. "Since you're gone, but we've come up with a plan to bring everyone back, so I just thought I'd make this." He rubs his hands together, palms at his chest, grabs at his wrist. He looks anxious, Peter realizes, like when they were on the ship headed for Titan. "I guess I don't know why I'm making this, if I'm just going to see you, I just–"

He scratches at his face, looking around the room, at things Peter can't see.

"I invented time travel, and the first thing I wanted to do was call you over just to see you geek out," he says, and his head drops down towards his feet. When he looks up again, his eyes are glassy with tears.

"There's so much I want to show you. Most of all Morgan– she is so bright, and getting smarter every day. She reminds me of you– especially when she's feigning innocence after I catch her doing something she shouldn't."

Peter feels the tears slip down his cheeks and can't find the energy to wipe them away. Video-Tony, blurred around the edges, laughs to himself.

"Pepper always teased me, saying that I was turning into a dad, taking care of you. I always denied it, not ready to face how much I wanted to call you my kid– and then you were gone, and I didn't–" Tony coughs and wipes a hand over his face, turning away from the camera. When he looks back, he's smiling again– strained.

"Anyway, that's not what this is about. I'm assuming if you're watching, that I've saved the world yet again and brought everyone back. I'm also assuming that I'm not there in person to tell you this– unless I'm still too cowardly to talk to you in person, which would be embarrassing."

Peter hiccups a laugh.

"I just wanted to make sure you know–" and Tony inhales deep, his shoulders rising, like he's preparing himself for a blow that is sure to come, though he seems to be alone in the room.

"I wanted you to know how proud I am of you," he says with a rushed exhale, and the air punches out of Peter's lungs in imitation. He curls forward instinctively, eyes glued to the image of Tony– the rise and fall of his chest, the wrinkles around his smile, the grey in his hair.

"Don't know why that was so hard to say," Tony says, and then shakes his head. "That's not entirely true. I always had trouble talking about how much I adored you, how much you amazed– amaze me. Probably something to do with my father, etcetera, boring stuff, you get it." Tony rubs his jaw again, looking out to the room around them. The video quality is so good, Peter can see the tears still wavering in his waterline.

"Whatever you do next, just know that there will always be someone who's got your back. You know, the team, whoever is still there–" Tony frowns, his eyes going off somewhere far, beyond the room he's in. Blinking away whatever thought he got lost in, he addresses the camera. "The team is here to support you too. They've been asking about you for ages." An expression that borders on guilt flits across Tony's face.

"I should've introduced you sooner," he says. "I just… I guess I kept you to myself for so long because I didn't want you to find someone cooler."

Peter laughs even as tears drip from his chin.

"As if," he says, and Pepper rubs his back.

In the video, Tony shakes his head, wiping a hand across his face.

"Anyway, enough crying for the day. I'll uh–" Tony smiles and it feels like peace, like maybe he knew all along what was going to happen, at the very end. "I'll see you soon."

The projection fades away, Tony frozen mid-wave. Peter wipes at his face, though the tears are still coming. He hadn't heard Tony's voice in months, specifically staying away from any interviews or old footage news channels were putting up in remembrance.

"Peter?" Pepper says, her hand still on his back.

"I'm okay," he says, even though his throat feels close to closing up entirely. "Just haven't– I haven't seen him in a while."

Pepper makes a noise of understanding, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades. It takes a minute, but eventually Peter can swallow his sobs, tear tracks drying on his cheeks. He turns to Pepper and offers a watery smile.

"Thank you for showing that to me," he says. Pepper's eyes are red like his. Peter wonders if she also hasn't seen Tony since the funeral, or if she cries every time.

"Of course. I wish I had remembered it sooner," she says, with a watery smile. "Tony worried about you being on your own, and I do too. What he said– I know I'm not part of the team, but I am here, if you need it."

Peter nods, not trusting his voice enough to speak. Pepper seems to understand well enough, pulling him into a side hug that could feel awkward, but just reminds Peter of late nights with May, sitting side by side on the couch after a nightmare. It feels like straight comfort, like tiger balm on sore muscles, like everything Peter needs.

They sit like that for a few moments, before Pepper sighs.

"Happy's going to charge in at any moment," she says, "wondering what is taking so long."

Peter laughs. They stand and walk up the stairs, towards the front door.

"Thank you for dinner," he says, as they walk outside. "For everything."

"You're always welcome here," Pepper says. "I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I do." Peter gives Pepper another tight hug before walking down to the car, where Happy is standing, his arms crossed. He seems annoyed but doesn't say anything, his look softening when Peter gets close enough. Peter is sure his eyes are swollen, his nose pink.

"You good?" Happy asks, and after a moment, Peter nods.

check on my Ao3!

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Delivery | Kaminari x F!Reader | Lemon

Request: Kaminari is the pizza boy, and you open the door. 

NSFW, Light food play, Denki going to get fired lewl! As always, filter “notsfw” or “adelssmut” to block mature content. 

When you swing open your front door, you nearly drop the handful of bills in your hand. In front of you was definitely the pizza boy given by the crimson red polo and black uniform pants said shirt was tucked into along with the box of pizza and cinnamon sticks you had ordered for dinner. The least you expected was a familiar boy, well, your boyfriend in fact, with slightly spiky blonde hair with a black highlight zipped across the bangs like a lightning bolt and his forcefully cheerful face that drops as soon as he sees you.

You try not to laugh. You really did and even place your hand over your mouth to cover the laugh trying to escape. It didn’t help when he finally tries to hide his embarrassment with a confident smile and a wink,

“What—stunned silent by a man in uniform?”

You bust, cackling madly as you clutch onto your stomach. “Denki, you look like a dork had sex with another dork and had you."

“It’s not funny, babe! I got chased by a dog twice this week, I’m the only one of two drivers and people blame me when they have to wait longer for their order, so I barely get any tips. I hate it! Did you know drivers had to supply their own gas?”

“I-I’m sorry, Denki. I didn’t mean anything by it,” you stammer, your laughter dying into a sympathetic grin. “It’s good that you have a job.”

His expression softens, the usual smile coming over to greet you as he motions to the boxes in his hands. “Let’s see your knight-in-shining-armor has brought milady her favorite pizza and cinnamon sticks. If it was my choice, I’d give it to you free, but boss man says you have to pay 19.70.”

You hold out a twenty, a weak smile gracing your face, and he pouts at you. “My parents only gave me enough to pay for the pizza.”

You chuckle at the deadpan face that reads, “you’re one of them." You hand him the money before grabbing the pizza. You glance over his defeated form and try to think of a way to cheer him up. Figuring out what to do, you kick the door wide open and prop your leg against the frame, inviting him to stare at the lovely curve of your thigh as your pajama bottoms ride up your leg. “I never said I wasn’t going to tip you though.”

His eyes widen and mouth gapes. “REALLY?” he blurts out, and your fit of giggles almost return as he swallows and repeats it with a deepened voice. “I mean…really? You won’t get in trouble?”

Sighing loudly, you tilt your head and exaggeratedly draw your hand over the front of your torso, slowly climbing over your stomach, between your breasts, then along the curve of your neck. “I’m all alone and could use some company, pizza boy.”

Then, Denki has to choose between the dilemma of reporting back to work or taking the chance to have some unscheduled fun; and like the responsible red-blooded man he was, he chooses fun. What could he say—he’s weak for you.

You walk inside together, and he slams the door close as you carelessly toss the pizza on top of the living room table. Kaminari grips his shirt, pulling it over his head and charming you with his hard-earned body before pushing it on top of you and dropping you both onto the couch. He captures your lips with lightning speed, harsh nips pulling at your supple flesh and reddening it with his bruising kiss. Your tongues meet, swimming around each other inside your mouth. He pulls away for air, and your shared saliva connects you until Kaminari has a chance to take your breath away once again.

He settles in between your legs, his hips rocking into yours with a needful grind. His member is already twitching to life, ready to bring you into an orgasm. His hands are softer though, massaging and stroking your fluffy tits. No bra under your night clothes meant that you could feel the trickles of his power conducting your skin, jumping with the light shocks that touch your sensitive flesh.

“You’re excited tonight,” you tease, rolling your hips up to meet him and reveling in the delicious groan that you rip from his throat.

“I’m stressed,” he replies, his eyes falling half-lidded and hazy with lust as the plushness of you pussy greets his hardened shaft. “I’ve been working all day; it’s such a pain,” he gripes and kisses the shell of your ear.

“You should just quit if you hate it, baby,” you advise, moaning as he carefully licks your ear and gently nibbles the lobe. He keeps his groin tight against yours, his grunts escalating with the hard jerks between your legs.

“I wasn’t planning on staying long,” he pants against your lips, passionately kissing you once again. “I…I was just going to stay because I wanted enough to buy you this necklace I saw.

You push him away, resting your hand on his chest as you gaze up into his eyes with a gentle expression. “Aw, really, you were going to get me something?”

“Yeah, of course! You’re my girl so I have to,” he says, and you smile wider as he lowly throws in, “Well…maybe I was going to stay longer for a new game station, too.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tilt your head and let out a short, light laugh. “Dummy.”

“Oh, you love it.”

Your shirt begins to lift as he peels off your clothes, stripping you down to your birthday suit. Kaminari lifts away, and you pout as he leaves you cool and nude until you see him reach in one of the pizza boxes and pull out the small plastic tub of icing from the box. The white confectionary is still warm enough to pour onto your skin, and it drips little by little between your breasts before trickling into a smooth line to coat your nipples before he pours out the rest down your stomach, letting the last drip out over the top of your thighs.

“You’re going to get me all sticky,” you complain jokingly, and he smirks, a quirked sexy crook to his lips that makes your body warm.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to make sure to clean you up real good.”

He keeps good on that promise when his tongue drags over your nipple, and he sucks up the cooling sugar coating them. You gasp as his tongue swirls around the small bud. “You taste good,” he mumbles and sucks harder until your breast was pulling with the suction. Then, he releases with a pop and a satisfied grin at the amount of saliva that glosses and covers your taut nipple before moving to the other and slurping sweet sugar from your flesh until this one matched its twin.

Slick pink travels between your breasts and follows the trail to your stomach while leaving a shimmer of sticky clear residue where he cleaned your chest. His lips skim over your stomach, and he nips and teases your soft flesh. You begin to squirm.

“Denki, that tickles!”

He chuckles at your cute movements and giggles. “Mm, you’re so cute,” he teases, taking a long lick over your belly button, leaving the flat of his tongue white with icing before swallowing it down. Then, he suddenly runs a stripe along your pussy, making you whine.

“You taste sweeter than the icing,” he remarks, making your cover your embarrassed face as he circles his tongue around your clit. He slides his fingers inside you, shocks making you tremble and jolt as your eyes roll back with the pleasure of his lips suckling your most sensitive area and the light tingles inside of you making his touch that much more noticeable.

“Denki, oh, god,” you gasp and raise your hips, arching to his mouth, and he hums as he buries his face deeper against your dripping cunt. He kisses you everywhere, lips skimming your labia, your clit and then your seeping slit before his tongue disappears inside you and curves up to lap up your juices as they spill into his mouth. His hand grips your thighs, running up and down tenderly. His tongue pumps and circles inside of you, teasing your entrance. Heavier and heavier he pampers your pussy until you start to throb, and he moans with the light clenches of your body as your walls attempt to clamp around his tongue.

Suddenly, he pulls his head away and mounts you. The chance to protest dies on your lips as he sheathes his cock inside of you, and you come around him with the sudden stretch. He thrusts inside of you, grasping on to your hips to keep your trembling body straight as he pistons into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, moaning with the passionate rhythm that keeps restretching your needily spasming core.

He gasps your name and tries to hold back his pants as he takes in every line of your blissful face and open mouth along with the bouncing of your breasts under him. Your orgasm is slow to subside with his continued pumping stimulating you more and more and keeping you right there over the edge as your body spasms with the traces of electricity that always pour from him.

His cock throbs inside of you, quickly building up with the slick heat and squeezes you provide until finally he tips over the edge with you and pulls out of you with the smallest amounts of his come spilling inside of you while the rest squirts over your lower stomach.

Kaminari collapses on top of you, and you remain in a panting pile of sweaty tangled limbs and gently kissing lips. The moments after is pure bliss as you cuddle together, clothes forgotten on the floor. You only shift positions minutes later.

“Don’t move,” he pleads, trying to snuggle into your breasts.

Stealthily, you reach over to the pizza on your table, stretching out your arm from under him, and he groans and pouts at you. “Really?”

“What? I’m hungry.”

Kaminari smiles as you shove a slice of pizza in your mouth. “Hey, babe. If you’re hungry, I got something else you can eat.”

[easier-5sos]

Okay so there's this video (if you look up 'ghost of you luke crying' on youtube its the first one) of them performing ghost of you and Luke looks ROUGH. Like he's kinda shaking and he's all sweaty and pale looking, which is probably just the lights and stuff, but he looks nervous or like something's wrong. So could you write something about that? Like he has to perform with a fever or something?

heLLO!! He cried during Lie To Me at my MYT concert- highkey I wanted to jump on stage and hug my poor baby :((

(this has some comedy to it, which I thought was fuckin hilarious dONT JUDGE ME I HAVE A SHITTY SENSE OF HUMOUR LMAO)

-

Luke woke up in the hotel bed feeling rough- rougher than he had the day before. It was pretty cold in Sweden the last few days, and the band had been travelling in Europe during the colder months to perform their shows for the Meet You There tour. He sniffled his nose, rubbing it against the backs of his hands to hopefully clear them so he could breathe easier.

It was no hope.

He huffed out in annoyance, rolling round to face your sleeping body in the bed beside him- jealous that you could sleep easy, and he didn’t have a chance.

When it came to being sick, Luke was a wimp and you knew it. He was a baby when taking his medicine- always complaining that the taste made him feel worse, even if it did end up making him better; the poor boy cried when he threw up, tears running down his pale face; and he always wanted to cuddle you, even if what he had was contagious.

Finally, after a few more minutes of Luke sulking, feeling sorry for himself, and huffing angrily at the fact that he couldn’t breathe too well, he sneezed right in your face. You jolted awake, rubbing your tired eyes as Luke’s own blue ones apologetically looked toward you.

“Thanks…” You grumbled, pressing your face into the pillows to wipe away the snot and spit that landed there- it was a rude awakening.

Luke pouted, “I can’t help it! I think I have a cold…”

You nodded in agreement, reaching your hand up toward his forehead to check his temperature- to your surprise, he was hotter than the sex you both had a few days ago.

“Maybe a fever, bubs” You pointed out.

Luke whimpered, running a hand through his golden halo of curls. He was due to perform later in the evening, but performing whilst sick was a hassle he hated dealing with, especially since no one would let him take a day off. The managers had had enough of Luke complaining recently, especially when it came to something Luke wasn’t too happy with- you found it rather rude that management never took what Luke said on board, especially given he was the lead singer of the band.

A few hours later, and Luke’s fever had gotten much worse. He was sweating, dampening the golden curls that framed his face; his nose was red, even though it looked cute like that; and Luke wouldn’t stop complaining that he didn’t feel great, which the mangers were getting sick of.

“Baby…” Luke complained, arms wrapped around your own as you all but struggled to walk down the halls of the venue, “I don’t feel good…”

“I know bubs- you’ve told me so many times today. But you’ve got to. Management can’t afford to replace the date this late” You softly smiled toward him, knowing how Luke hated being sick, especially when he was due to perform for a few hours in the evening.

To accomodate Luke being sick, you took over the stylists and make-up artists job- since they didn’t want to catch whatever Luke had, and hearing him complain was driving almost everyone away from him, he was basically a gigantic baby. 

You’d found the lightest shirt Luke owned- one that covered everything he wanted to cover, yet was still light enough for someone running a fever to wear- which happened to be his almost sheer leopard print shirt; you forced him to put on pants that unfortunately didn’t match anything, however the flare at the bottom would keep his legs cool; and his boots without the heel, so Luke wouldn’t somehow fall over and sprain his ankle because of his shoe choice. In all fairness, you were pretty proud with the outcome of the outfit, tying it all together with a nice belt that adorned a large silver buckle in the middle- it was very Luke. 

Next, you tried your hardest to make Luke look more alive- as his skin was deathly pale, his nose was red, and his cheeks were tinted pink. You sat on the counter in the dressing room, Luke sitting on a chair between your legs, his sweaty hands on your thighs in a deathly grip he wasn’t willing to let go of. Letting the inner make-up artist inside you flourish- from watching all the beauty gurus on YouTube, and deeming yourself worthy of being a beauty guru- you dashed on some glittery pink eyeshadow to Luke’s eyelids, however highlighter wasn’t needed as he was already sweating so much from the fever.

You watched as Luke’s eyes grew heavy, blissfully falling asleep as you tried your hardest to pat his forehead down- his skin was burning, and the usual excited glint in his diamond blue eyes was gone, which was a telltale sign that Luke was well and truly sick.

In the back of your mind, you worried that Luke would collapse on stage during a song, maybe because he didn’t drink enough water to begin with, or because he was exhausted from the fever- and you hoped it wouldn’t happen.

Luke slowly sat up from the chair, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he gave you a weak smile. You were tempted to storm down to the tour managers and complain that Luke wasn’t fit to perform- however you knew they wouldn’t listen to you, you were just dating the lead singer, no big deal.

Slowly, the sick, lanky blonde made his way to where the rest of his band was situated, waiting for the signal to get on stage. He didn’t look great.

“Luke, what’s up man? Are you good?” Ashton inquired, tapping out a beat on the wall with his drumsticks.

Luke shook his head, wiping at his forehead again.

“Personally, I think he shouldn’t perform.” You butted in.

“Yeah- he doesn’t look at all lively” Calum pointed out, nodding in agreement.

Michael nodded too, “We should go talk to someone”

“They won’t listen. We tried this morning, but Luke’s fever got worse.” You sighed in annoyance.

Calum rolled his eyes, “Of course they didn’t.”

“Listen, I’ll get more water bottles from the dressing room, but can someone continue to remind Luke to keep his liquids up?” You raised an eyebrow toward the band, as they all hummed an agreement.

Luke whimpered, arms wrapping around one of yours once again, “Y/N I wanna go home…” nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I know bubs, I know- but you can’t. Fuckin’ management won’t let you.” You grumbled, getting tired of how management was pushing these boys to the extreme.

In under ten minutes, the band was out on stage- with Luke flopping around the place, a small smile on his lips as he tried his hardest to keep up with everything else around him. Lucky, no one had noticed his lack of enthusiasm just yet- as the first break rolled around. You’d managed to let the managers give the band a few more breaks than usual, as they’d noticed the lack of fire in Luke’s performance.

Luke immediately made a B-Line for you, almost collapsing his entire body onto yours the second his skin made contact with your own. You stumbled backward, falling onto a chair that was luckily behind you.

“You alright bubs?” You asked, hand soothing his wild curls.

Luke shook his head, “I can’t do it…”

“You’re doing amazing Lu! I’m so proud of you, okay?” You tried your hardest to give him positive reinforcement, so he’d be more willing to go back on stage- you knew that once Luke got comfortable, he was less likely to get off you again.

Only a few minutes later, he was all but dragged on stage by Michael, who let Luke sit down on the mini stage for Ashton’s drum kit- a water bottle in hand as he forced Luke to drink it.

Another break rolled around, and Luke was looking worse than ever. He stumbled toward you, and you let him collapse on you once again- being prepared by already sitting on the chair.

He whimpered into your ear, “I wanna go home…. Can’t do this…” once again.

“Only two more sets to go bubs, and then we’ll be on our way back to the hotel! You got this!” You smiled, watching as he rubbed his eyes- the eyeshadow going absolutely everywhere, tainting his hands in pink, glittery shadow.

Once again, the band dragged Luke on stage, and he performed at the seat of the piano- a microphone set up so Luke could sing from the comfort of the seat, instead of in front of the entire crowd, so they weren’t able to see how sick he really was. There was sweat trickling down his forehead, pink eyeshadow all around his eyes, and his hair was a mess- but he kept going.

That was, until the last break.

Luke came stumbling toward you, tears picking at his eyes and pink, glittery eyeshadow on almost every possible patch of skin on his face. You knew that this was the last straw for him, as he slouched down on top of you again.

You pulled out all the stops, “I don’t think he’s going to make it. I don’t want him collapsing from exhaustion on stage. I’m taking him back to the hotel.” You all but demanded.

Even though the situation was the opposite of romantic, Ashton made a comment about how much he adored the fact that you cared so much for Luke, as Calum awed- even though you knew Calum, of all people, didn’t believe in love.

Letting Luke slouch against your entire body, you made your way through the backstage hallways, ignoring the managers that shouted at you to give them the lead singer back. You’d have to explain it all in the morning, but for now, they’d have to do without the lead singer- who wasn’t capable of finishing the concert tonight.

Finally, after an hour of arguing with the security guard, who instructed you to take Luke back on stage, and another twenty minutes driving in an Uber to the hotel- you had Luke back in the hotel room. You pulled the sweaty clothes from his body, feeling just how hot his skin had gotten from performing and the fever on top of it all. The eyeshadow was no longer on Luke’s eyes, but all around his face instead, as you lightly chuckled at how much of a toddler Luke looked like. His golden curls were drenched in sweat, as you tied all the curls into a bun- making sure to massage Luke’s head in the process to calm him down, which always worked a treat.

After all that, it didn’t take long for Luke to pass out on the hotel bed, before sneezing in your face one last time- as a thank you, for helping him, you assumed.

[buttercupsfrocks]

Another week, another fatphobic shitstorm, Tumblr, this time in the form of an exercise in projected self-loathing courtesy of Torygraph journalist Tanya Gold. You can find it here if you’re curious, or you can just look at the pictures of my bargain Zara ranty pants plissé culottes; either way I’m afraid I’m going to vent.

For those hitherto unfamiliar with Ms Gold, she’s a self-identified fat woman who has previously written about the pervasiveness of fat discrimination and prejudice; the tyranny of fashion and its fixation with excessively thin models; her serial dieting career; and her struggles with bulimia and alcoholism. Consequently I was a mite puzzled to learn she was appalled at Nike’s recent decision to include a plus-sized mannequin in their London flagship store. This they have done in the spirit of “celebrating the diversity and inclusivity of sport” – and presumably to promote that, unlike exclusionary trend led brands such as Sweaty Betty and Lulu Lemon, Nike supplies workout gear to accommodate those of us at the larger end of the bell curve. Much in the manner of the ground breakingly diverse This Girl Can campaign launched four years ago by Sport England, the message is clear enough: encourage as many women as possible to exercise, thereby improving the health of as many women as possible; everybody wins, GIRL POWAH!

It’s not the first time I’ve used the phrase cognitive dissonance on this blog and it certainly won’t be the last. Unfortunately we live in an era where health has become so synonymous with thinness that even a supposedly whipsmart broadsheet journalist can’t discern they are two different things that aren’t mutually exclusive. “The new Nike mannequin is not size 12, which is healthy,” Gold observes, “or even 16 – a hefty weight, yes, but not one to kill a woman. She is immense, gargantuan, vast. She heaves with fat.” Well of course she does. As I’ve noted before those who hate fat people, including fat people who hate themselves, have a tendency to luxuriate in baroque prose when describing adipose tissue. Personally speaking, my fat does a lot of things but heave isn’t generally one of them unless there’s stewed rhubarb involved. But let’s just back-track a second, shall we? Ms Gold herself is a size 16, or was when she shared this heart rending tale of how she was unable to find a single thousand quid frock to accommodate her UK average-sized arse in Prada. But hey, at least she’s not hefty enough to be dying any time soon. That’s something only fatter fat women do, women who heave, not borderline, amateur chubs like her. Man, if there was ever a women for whom Body Positivity – aka Fat Acceptance Lite® – was invented, it’s Tanya fucking Gold. She even employs the eternal whinge of the aspiration-deprived inbetweenie, “where is the body shape between the tiny and the immense, which is where true health lives? Where is the ordinary, medium, contented woman? Where, oh where, is the middle ground?” In other words, “What about Meeeeeeee?!”

While Gold’s got a point in that it can be highly detrimental to a woman’s self esteem to rarely see her body type represented by the media she consumes, Meeeeeeee! is nonetheless catered to by every single non-couture clothing chain in the country. And while having to be forced to buy from lesser emporia might disappoint, (House of Fraser; the horror), imagine being excluded by the entire fucking high street. Then ask yourself, if that were your reality, how you might be expected to know that a mainstream manufacturer caters to your needs if they don’t advertise it? Call me dim if you must but a display featuring a showroom dummy five sizes smaller than I am would not alert me to this fact. Of the offending mannequin she describes as “in every measure obese”, Gold laments, “She cannot run. She is, more likely, pre-diabetic and on her way to a hip replacement”. Hello? She’s made of sodding fibreglass and weighs approximately 25lbs. Unlike the multitude of actual fat human beings who do indeed run, practice team sports, swim, teach yoga, shot-put and weightlift, as well as attend dance and exercise classes, Nike’s blank canvas can’t do bugger all except encourage other fat women to follow suit which somehow, according to Gold’s bizarre convoluted logic, is a one way ticket to a tragic early death. I know; it’s like falling down a rabbit hole of WTFF. No wonder it’s kicked off such a backlash.

I’ve been sparring with concern trolls like Gold for yonks and they invariably trot out the same old lies, either out of fear, spite or sheer pig ignorance. Gold is no exception; the Fat Acceptance Movement, she opines, “says any weight is healthy if it’s yours”. Yeah, no. In actuality the Fat Acceptance Movement is a fifty year old political initiative born of grass roots feminism, that seeks to highlight and challenge weight based prejudice and discrimination – be that in the classroom, the workplace, the doctor’s office, the fashion industry, mainstream media, (an advertising campaign that portrays the public as abject morons and further stigmatises fat people would seem to fit the bill), local or national government, or anywhere else it has the power to negatively impact the lives of those subject to it. Many detractors confuse Fat Acceptance with Health At Every Size which is an internationally recognised, medically supported programme dedicated to the pursuit of healthful habits without a focus on weight loss. It is, for instance, a useful tool for those in recovery for eating disorders. While many Fat Acceptance advocates practice HAES, just as many don’t; likewise there are those involved in HAES who are neither fat nor politicised about fat. 

Gold’s assertion that the War On Obesity® (aka fat people) has been beaten into submission by political correctness is risible, as evidenced by her own poisonous prose, which – pardon my plagiarism – fairly heaves with internalised negative stereotypes: the Fat Acceptance advocate as deluded and self-deceiving; the fat athlete as a myth. We are self piteous, unreliable narrators of our own lived experience; sugar-guzzling runaway trains on a surefire collision with death; we’re narcissistic, (yet self-hating), sick by default, entirely unacquainted with the diseases correlated with obesity, (all incidentally correlated with age and heredity too); in denial about our physical appearance; feckless, and – because no anti-fat screed would be complete without it – lacking in Personal Responsibility. But she would “never want a woman to hate herself for what she finds in the mirror”, perish the thought.

The War on Obesity, despite being ramped up a hundredfold since I was a was first indoctrinated into – and lastingly damaged by – diet culture as an eleven year old child, has not resulted in a healthier populace. Western society is collectively mired up to the lugholes in mass neurosis around issues of food and weight; eating disorders are on the rise across the gender spectrum, in some instances developing in kindergarten, so Gold can fucking bite me with her cod “what about the children?!” shtick. Mental health is a key component of overall wellbeing, and shame is not conducive to mental health. Meanwhile society is getting fatter – along with the wallets of bariatric surgeons and all the other opportunist outfits in "partnership” with the National Obesity Forum, (Canderel, LighterLife, SlimFast, Roche, Glaxo Smith Kline, et al; all organisations whose revenue is dependent on as many people as possible fearing, hating, and being fat).

It’s time to try something else, like recognising that body diversity, along with death and disease, are simple facts of life; that healthful practices are beneficial to all regardless of the size of the body practicing them; and that weight is not an indicator of health or moral character. It also wouldn’t be a bad idea to get to grips with the reams of documentary evidence confirming there is no reliable way to make a body naturally inclined to fatness lastingly thin, and move the fuck forward already. 

I’ll shut up now.