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blvdprn · 8 days

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— dirty liar

gojo satoru x top!male reader

you never thought your best friend was a virgin, always talking in detail about the nightly adventures he’s had with women. alas, it turns out everything he ever told you was just dirty things he dreamt of with you.

nsfw — smut, porn with plot, consent isn’t verbally said but it IS there, caught masturbating: reader listens in, slight perv!reader, also perv!gojo, virginity loss, cursing, edging, some fingering, messy makeout, thigh-slapping, pleasurable crying, slight humiliation & degradation, praise if you squint, sensitive n semi brat gojo, strong reader with heightened senses, friends to lovers, no canon timeline

wc: 4,269

‘Please, shut up.’

Gojo Satoru: powerful, strong, tall, beautiful, cocky asshole, your best friend, and so goddamn annoying.

“I fucked her so hard—”

“She begged me to—”

“And then me and her—”

Always babbling on and on about how good he was in bed. How he fucked the women so good that they left scratches and bite marks on him.

Did he have any idea about how you were completely and utterly in love with him? Of course not. He was as clueless as a fucking ostrich.

‘When does he have the time to have sex anyway?’

“—And by the seventh round she passed out, so I took a quick shower and left.”

That made you raise a brow in question. No matter how jealous you’d get over the women he had sex with, the fact that he left them without at least cleaning them up, always made you wonder why you even liked an asshole like him in the first place.

“You’re such a fucking douchebag, Satoru. Did you even pay for the hotel room?”

He made a face, offended over the insult you used. “Of course I did, she had no money!”

“Wow,” you said, monotonously. “What a gentleman.”

The beauty in front of you huffed in response, rolling his eyes from behind his blindfold —not like you’d notice anyway.

“Well, it was just a quick fuck, nothing special.”

“A quick fuck?” you questioned. “Didn’t you say it was like, the seventh round?”

Satoru stiffened up, quickly relaxing and acting nonchalant, hoping you didn’t notice his slight mishap.

“Oh, did I? Whatever, you know what I meant.”

“I don’t—”

“Hey!” he suddenly said, interrupting what you were about to say. Standing up, Satoru leaned over you a bit. “I forgot, I have a mission I gotta head to soon.”

You turned your head in confusion, knowing damn well he didn’t have a mission today. “What?”

Satoru let out a fake, easygoing smile, already knowing you didn’t believe him. But he had to get out of your room soon, either before he spilled out the truth about his nonexistent night shenanigans, or before he spilled something else.

“Yeah,” the blindfolded man shrugged, tugging on his pants a bit. “Emergency or something.”

“I didn’t hear any—”

“See you!” your friend interrupted, waving a goodbye before almost sprinting out of your room.

You furrowed your brows, an irritated smile spreading across your face. “That fucking liar. Does he think he’s slick or something?”

Sighing, you lean back on your bed —the spot both of you were sitting on.

“Ow,” you groaned, harshly hitting your head on something rectangular behind you. “The fuck?”

It was Satoru’s phone. He must’ve not realized that it fell out of his back pocket.

‘That idiot left his phone with the hurry he was in.’

An angered laugh echoed around the room, followed by the shuffle of a blanket as an idea came to mind.

“I’ll keep this until tonight, that’s when he’ll supposedly be back from the mission.” You let an eyebrow twitch. “That’ll show him to stop doing that.”

You see, this wasn’t the first time this happened. Neither was it the second, nor third, not even the fourth. For some reason, every time he went into detail about his sex life, he’d immediately make up an excuse about how he suddenly had to go. You never knew why he did it, but tonight —tonight is when you’ll figure it out. And you’ll use the phone he left behind as an excuse to go see him.

Because who would willingly want to spend time with him anyway?

You, but you’d never show him that.

“I wonder if he gets horny thinking about what they did?” you hummed to yourself. “But then, why would he tell me every time? I doubt he’d want to have a boner while talking to me.”

You sighed, looking down a bit, not liking the idea of him with someone else. “Shit, I gotta get used to it.” A sudden thought crossed your mind, one that made you frown. “Does he even like men?”

You groaned.

It was nighttime.

The moon was high up, crickets loud and clear even with the walls separating the outside world. Currently, you are on your way to Satoru’s room. Silent steps went unheard, yet the anticipation of asking him the question that’s been on the tip of your tongue, made your breath heavier, silence turning into sound.

Hearing the critters and strigiformes outside, you slowed down your steps, slightly cherishing and admiring the beauty the night held.

‘But of course, nothing beats Satoru.’

After what felt like only seconds, you reached your friend’s door. With one hand clutching his phone and the other raised as a fist, you prepared yourself to knock.

Until you heard it.

“Aah—”

A moan. Whether it was from pain or pleasure, you weren’t sure. But the sound of Satoru moaning was something you never thought you’d get the privilege to hear.

Your face burned, blood rushing towards your head and downwards.

‘Shit.’ You brought the hand that was about to knock, down in shock, slightly covering your mouth with it. ‘Is he masturbating? Or did the reckless fucker bring in someone?’

“Oh, fuck…” you heard. Satoru’s groan stretched out into a slight whine.

‘What do I do?! Do I leave?!’

A moan louder than the rest echoed through your ears.

‘But…’

You panted, feeling your dick twitching in between your legs.

‘Just a little more… and then I’ll leave.’

“Haa—” moaned Satoru again.

With your heightened hearing, you could make out the sounds of his hand going up and down his cock.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.

If you just reached down a bit… you could unzip your pants and—

‘No!’ you stopped yourself. ‘This is wrong. He’s your friend, the one you’re in love with. Don’t do this, it’s disrespectful and gross. He’d never forgive you if he found out!’ You looked down. ‘Besides… he doesn’t even like—’

Another moan, but this one was different.

It felt like a bucket of pure fire was poured down on you, heating up your entire body.

‘What the fuck? Was that—’

Your name. Again. And again. And again.

Heart raising to unnatural rhythms, you contained your gasps, trying your hardest not to burst into Satoru’s room and fuck the living shit out of him.

With an idea in mind, you calmed your racing heart and cooled your face off, hoping the erection in your pants didn’t give away your intentions.

You raised your hand against the door.

Knock Knock

The sound seemed so loud outside the empty hallway. You could hear the sorcerer inside the room gasp, rapidly pulling his pants up —he already knew it was you.

With a slight clear of his throat, Satoru voiced. “It’s open!”

‘Of course it was. He thinks nothing can beat him as he’s the strongest.’

You twisted the knob, instantly opening the door and going inside, harshly closing it behind you.

“Back so soon?” you asked, looking straight at his uncovered eyes.

Satoru laughed at his place on the bed, legs still covered by the blanket, and still a bit flustered from what he was doing before. “Of course! You know me…”

You raised an eyebrow at his blatant lie. “Right.”

Awkward silence.

“Sooo…” he stretched out, having enough, and wanting to know what the man he was imagining about was doing in his room. “What can little ol’ moi do for you? Did you miss me so much you had to come visit in the middle of the night?”

A smile graced your face, one that somehow made someone like Satoru feel small. “You forgot your phone in my room.” You stretched out your arm, holding the device in your hand. “I just came to bring it back.”

“Oh!” the man in front of you exclaimed, surprise evident in his eyes. “I didn’t even notice! Thanks sooo much, haha!” He brought his arm out, expecting you to hand him his phone.

Although what he didn’t expect, was for you to carelessly throw the device on his bed and grab his outstretched arm, pulling him up to your height. See, Satoru never had Limitless on around you, knowing you’d never do anything to him. Alas, he’s come to regret that decision, because now he was face to face with you, pants hazardously thrown on —he didn’t even bother to button them up.

“Hey!” he somewhat whined. “What’s up with you?”

You scoffed, “Me?” Glancing down at his pants, you could feel Satoru stiffen up. “You just had your hand around your dick, moaning my fucking name.”

“Huh?!”

“What?” you chuckled, pulling him towards you even more. “You thought I wouldn’t hear? C’mon, you know me…”

Satoru glared, hearing his own words being repeated back to him. “So? What are you gonna do?”

You turned your head to the side. “Oh? you’re not even going to deny it?”

“Tch. Why should I? You heard, didn’t you?”

“Haha, yeah. I just didn’t take you for being such a slut.”

That was a lie. With how many times he’s told you about his sex life, you’re surprised he hasn’t gotten gonorrhea or something.

Satoru’s ears heated up, embarrassed, and turned on over what you called him. “I’m not a slut. Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not a slut?” you mockingly questioned. “But I just heard you fucking your fist at the thought of me. Do you do that with all your friends?”

Fuck. Was Satoru’s dick twitching or was that just his imagination?

“None of your business. Now get out before I—”

“Before you what.” You interrupted, words sounding more like a threat than a question. “Are you going to do something to me? Or…” You let go of Satoru’s arm, harshly pushing him down onto the bed, where you heard a startled yelp below you. “…do you want me to do something to you?”

“What?!” he loudly questioned, watching in anticipation as you leaned down towards him, trapping him with both of your hands beside his head.

“Awe,” you mockingly pout. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Suddenly, Satoru’s whole demeanor changed. From flustered to teasing, he now had an arrogant smirk on his face. “Hehe, do you wanna fuck me that bad that you had to listen in on me masturbating? You know, you could’ve just asked me to fuck you.”

‘He thinks he’s gonna fuck me?’

You leaned in, face inches away from his. “You’re cute, but I’m the one that’s going to fuck you.”

That caugh Satoru by surprise. “Uhm, no. You’re going to have to fight for it, and we all know who’s stronger here.”

“Hmm,” you falsely pondered, brushing your lips against his. “Do we?”

He gulped slightly, Adam’s apple moving inside his throat. “Yeah, it’s—”

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you crashed your lips onto his.

“Hmph?!” Satoru let out in delighted surprise.

‘Finally… how long have I wanted to do this again?’

You moved your head to the right, Satoru to the left. Mouths bruising against each other, you bit his bottom lip, feeling the way he tried his best to control the kiss. But he can’t, because—

‘It’s like he’s never kissed anyone.’

Not putting any more thought into it, you slightly pulled his lip towards you, sucking on it a bit.

“Mmh…” Satoru whimpered, hastily grabbing the sides of your shirt and pulling on it. Taking that as a sign, you let go of his lips, hearing him gasp for air. Leaning back up, you grab the back of your shirt, pulling it over your head and taking it off.

You don’t let the man below you admire anything, because now one of your hands was on his hair, fiercely pushing his head up for another hot kiss.

“Fuck—”

‘Seems like he likes getting his hair pulled.’

With a hand harshly pulling back his light hair, you swiped your tongue on his lips, a gasp coming out of his mouth. Taking his open mouth as an opportunity, your tongue pushes in, immediately finding his own.

“Aah… hmn…” Satoru could do nothing but moan, clumsily trying his best to dominate the kiss, knowing he’d never done this before.

Tongues tangled, one of your knees went in between his legs, meeting the hard erection in his pants.

“Hmm!” a louder moan came crawling out of his throat.

With your knee on his hard cock, you slightly moved it up and down, all while exploring his mouth with yours. Tongue swiping over his teeth, gums, on the roof of his mouth, and swirling with his. You felt some drool sliding down Satoru’s chin, hearing him gulp a bit.

Thinking that’s enough, you pulled his head back. Separating your lips, you admired the red face of the beautiful man below you.

You laughed, dark eyes roaming over his body. “Look at you, all messed up from a little kiss. I thought you were gonna show me who was stronger here?” You grinned down at him. “So pathetic.”

Satoru groaned in annoyance, feeling precum on his tip. “Shut up, no I’m not. You just caught me by surprise is all.”

“Awe,” you cooed. “Is that really it?” Leaning back down, you unzipped your friend’s pants, peeling them off his legs before he could even blink. “Or have you just been lying to me all this time?”

“What are you talking about?” Satoru could feel his heart racing, knowing you caught him in the lie.

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” Your hands crawled up his legs, scratching the smooth skin. “You’re a virgin.”

He flinched, face hotter than he thought was possible. “No, I’m not. Why would I lie about that?”

You hummed, fingers reaching the hem of his briefs, where you could see just how turned on Satoru really was. “Let me see… maybe it’s because you thought being a virgin would make you look pathetic? Maybe because you couldn’t phantom the thought of me fucking anyone else, so you had to make up stories about you and those fake women. Or maybe, it’s because all the shit you’ve said were things you wanted me to do to you?”

Satoru whimpered in shame, not liking how you knew him a little too well.

Who was he kidding, he loved it!

“Do you think I’m stupid?” You figured it out earlier. When he clumsily kissed you back. When his shaking hands reached your shirt. When his gasps held a small tremble every time he breathed in. With how unknowingly expressive he was, you’re surprised you didn’t catch onto it sooner. “You’re a little virgin whore.”

Feeling like he was going to get a bloody nose, Satoru pouted, shaking his head from side to side. “No ‘m not— Ah!”

Irritated with the way he kept lying, you slapped one of his thighs before he could finish talking. “You’re such a fucking brat, Satoru.”

Oh, how he loved it when you said his name. That, paired with the slap, made more precum come out of his tip.

“That looks painful,” you said, eyes staring at the erection trying to get out of its briefs. “Should I help you?” You didn’t even wait for a response, already having his underwear reach his ankles.

“Shit,” the man panted impatiently, sitting up and throwing his shirt to an unknown corner.

Smirking, you pushed him back down. “So careless.”

“Shut— Fuck!”

Your hand slapped his thigh again, so close to his twitching dick. Now that you looked at it, it’s a cute shade of red, almost like he’d spent hours masturbating. Well, knowing him, he probably started as soon as he left your room.

‘Damn, did he go at it for hours?’

“What’s this?” you teasingly asked, hand grabbing his hard length. “How many times have you done it, Satoru? It looks so wasted.” You flicked the tip, getting a wet moan by the man below you, in response.

“Agh! Don’t do that!”

Your hand met his thigh harder this time. “Don’t tell me what to do. We both know you like this.”

“Mm…”

The hand that was on his chest, keeping him down, traveled lower and lower. Past his stomach, belly button, and cock. One of your fingers reached his hole, going inside with no problem, quickly taking notice of how it wasn’t as tight as it should have been.

“Ah, you had some fun earlier down here.”

“No I— Ahh!”

You sighed in faux disappointment, rubbing the sensitive spot that turned red by your palm. “You’re always so dishonest. I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, baby.”

Your soon-to-be lover could do nothing but whimper in response.

The finger that lingered inside Satoru’s hole moved, earning a small twitch of his thighs. With how loose he was, another finger easily went in, rubbing all of his sensitive spots.

“Please…”

You thought that even with your heightened hearing, you heard wrong for a second. Satoru never outright said please, thinking something so simple was below him.

“What was that?”

Angered grumbling was muffled, and you patiently waited for him to say it again, speeding up your fingers to find that bundle of nerves that would make Satoru crumble.

“Please… just fuck me already…” he somewhat moaned at the end.

Well, you surely didn’t expect him to say that last part.

‘I guess we all have our breaking point.’

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll give you what you want.” You slowly put in your ring finger, taking note of how it was a slighter tighter fit. “I just needa find—”

“Fuuuck!”

“Haha, I found it,” you said in amusement. “That’s your prostrate baby, does it feel good?”

He nodded, cutely furrowing his brows. “Uh huh..”

You smiled. “Well, something else is gonna make you feel even better.”

Taking your time, you kept pressing on his sweet spot, loving the way he kept moaning your name. Almost lazily, you reached your unoccupied hand to your pants, just now noticing how hard you were. Shoving them down your legs, your boxers were next, making you let out a small hiss over the cold air hitting your cock.

Satoru’s eyes immediately went downwards, eyes widening a bit. “It’s bigger than I thought…” he trailed off.

“I should be offended, but now I’m sure you’ve dreamt all those dirty things you’ve been talking to me about.”

He huffed impatiently. “Just put it in already.”

You rolled your eyes, “Relax.”

Taking out your fingers, Satoru whined at the sudden empty feeling. Grabbing your erection, your sight went to the lube sitting on his desk. Reaching out with your empty hand, you snatched the tiny bottle. With the flick of your fingers, the cap fell off, and you instantly poured some on your cock, flinching at its temperature.

Looking down at the man below you, you could see that he couldn’t take his eyes off of your figure. Whether it was your strong arms, pecs, thighs, or just your dick —he couldn’t stop himself from admiring everything.

Not like you didn’t do the same either.

Thinking it was enough, you wiped the remaining lube on Satoru’s hole for easier access. Grabbing his legs, you made them wrap around your waist, ankles digging into your back. With your hard cock in hand, you teasingly slapped it on his entrance and slowly pushed it in.

“Ah!” he groaned loudly, digging his nails into your strong forearms.

“Fuck.” Even with the stretching you did, he was still tight. Of course, it was expected, as he is —was— a virgin.

With both of you gasping for breath, you stopped halfway, letting Satoru take a break. Although all you wanted to do was fuck him silly, you had to wait for your friend to adjust.

“Ngh, is that it?”

Your brow twitched angrily, not believing what he just said. “You fucking bitch. Of course not.”

Satoru raised his head, eyes wide. “What?!”

Grabbing his hips firmly, you harshly sank all the way in. “Shit, you’re tight.”

“Ah—Haa! F-fuck you!”

“I am.”

He let out small gasps, trying his best to relax. “J-just move already..”

You rubbed your thumbs on Satoru’s hip bones in circular motions, hoping it brought him some sort of soothing comfort.

“Okay.” Leaning down a bit, you gave him a small, reassuring kiss.

Slowly, you moved, feeling him relax around you.

“Mmh!”

You hissed, “Holy shit, Satoru. You’re sucking me in.”

The man couldn’t even respond. His mouth was wide open, letting out loud moans and whines. Tears slowly formed on his waterline, crystalline eyes threatening to spill them at the smallest movement.

“You’re so wrecked already, we just started.”

Not like you could blame him, you were the same. Deep groans came out of your mouth, you wanted nothing more than to fuck Satoru like a wild animal.

“Hey,” you slightly smacked his thigh, slowing your pace. “How many rounds did you say earlier?”

Satoru sniffed, having to focus hard to come back. “What?”

“Was it seven?”

“Wha— are ya talkin’ ‘bout?”

You laughed a bit, noticing the way he was already slurring his words. “Never mind, go back to being the dumb little slut you are, okay?”

He whined, “M’kay..”

‘I hope you have as much stamina as dream you.’

“Haa! P-pleashhh— Ah! Lemme cum!”

Time was unimportant, all you could think about was the drooling and crying man below you. Although, you’re sure hours have passed since all of this started. The room smelled of sex, the bed dirtied with Satoru’s tears and your cum. You guys were barely on your fourth round, but he was already begging and sobbing for release.

“I said you could cum on the seventh round, didn’t I?” you panted above him.

He whined loudly, slightly kicking his feet as some sort of childish tantrum. “Y-yesshh!”

“And what round is it?” you questioned.

“Hmm— I dunno! I dunno!”

You couldn’t help but mock him, pulling on his white locks sternly. “Awe, poor Gojo Satoru. Doesn’t even know how to count.”

Said man was currently on his stomach, hips raised and back deliciously arched. Arms were clutching one of his pillows tightly, seeing as his arms gave up a long time ago. One of your hands was on his head —messing up his hair with all the pulling that’s been done— and pushing his face into the pillow. Your arm was around his waist, hand tightly holding onto the base of his cock, not letting a single drop of cum out.

“Can’t— can’t! N’ moooore!”

“But you’re still not where you want to be, baby.” You groaned, knowing you wouldn’t last any longer either. “Besides, you were being such a brat earlier. You really think you deserve to cum?”

Satoru roughly sobbed, not liking the fact he was reminded of earlier. “I do! I do! Been a good boy!”

Your heart skipped a beat, admiring how adorable he was being. “Really? You’re a good boy? Haa— Are you m-my good boy?”

“Yeeeshhh— Your good boy!” he moaned, legs trembling with the way you rolled your hips, long dick hitting his prostate just where he wanted.

“Fuck.” You were so turned on, feeling the way you were about to bust a load inside him again. Pushing your hips against his ass rapidly, the squish of the remaining lube and cum made such a dirty sound —one that made your face heat up. Lightening your hold on Satoru’s cock, you started moving your hand up and down, the rhythm matching your thrusts.

“Nyahh—”

‘He sounds like a kitten.’

Satoru tightened around you, making it feel like he was trying to milk your cock dry. “C-cummin— Ngh!”

With his hips raised, you could see the way his back shuddered, his orgasm too powerful for him to stay still. Your hand kept hastily moving up and down his cute red dick, thumb slightly grazing his tip —something that made Satoru go absolutely crazy. Your hand was covered in his cum, slick with the amount he let out.

“Oh, fuck— Satoru!” Moaning, you hurriedly thrust into his hole, feeling your orgasm crash onto you.

“Haa.. ah..” Satoru weakly moaned, feeling your hot cum inside of him, dripping down his thighs. Shit, was he glad you cornered him for answers. His only regret would be that it didn’t happen sooner.

Pulling out, you watched in morbid fascination as your friend fully collapsed, immediately knocked out. As you weren’t as bad as he was, you would never let him lay there all dirty. So you shakily got up, going to the bathroom for some wet wipes and towels.

When you came back, he was already awake —barely. Cleaning his ass and thighs, you also wiped away the tears that clumped his long eyelashes together, letting your eyes meet for the first time in a while. Satoru’s face was red, and a small lazy smile spread upon his face.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” His voice was scratchy, spent from all the crying and moaning.

You huffed, brows furrowing in amusement, trying to ignore how he sounded or you’d jump his bones again. “Well I hope so, otherwise I did all this for nothing.”

He released a whiny laugh, moving his face towards yours. With his arms not under the pillow anymore, he raised his hands, grabbing your face. “Kiss,” he demanded.

Sighing, you leaned in, giving him a nice, big smooch on his forehead.

Satoru pouted, pointing at his lips, clearly showing you where he wanted you to kiss him.

“Alright, alright. Stop pouting you big baby.”

notes: gojo lives in the school but is it like the dorms? bc tbh that’s what i based it on so… also ik he’d be able to sense reader, but let’s pretend he was too preoccupied for that lol. this is my first time writing ever (sorry if the smut was disappointing 😢) but i couldn’t contain myself. i just need gojo. badly.

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moominsuki · 1 year

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THE DRIEST SPELL OF THEM ALL (7.1k) — bakugou katsuki x f!reader

✎ᝰ you've only been in a relationship with bakugou for a short while, but you can't help but think it's strange that you haven't had sex. guess it's time to change that.

࿄ ! warnings — nsfw, straight up penetrative sex, established relationship, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, lots of praise and feelings, bakugou is a sweetie pie, not a safe space for minors, reader is a college student and bkg is a pro hero.

/ note. this is my first, long fic and i'm so excited to share it with you guys. honestly was so fun to write and it has a lot of plot but who is uma if she doesn't have loads of self-indulgent dialogue?? anyways minors please do not interact with this and to the rest of you, please enjoy my very smutty fanfic.

to bakugou, the first time you and him have sex happens out of the blue. the relationship is relatively new and fresh - only around three-four months in. you do think it is kind of weird that you guys haven’t crossed the line of actually doing the deed.

you both have tiptoed the threshold of making out and soft touches. like when he came over to your place and you both made out after dinner together. you offered to put on a movie - just a random romance flick that you don’t seem to remember now; considering the tension in the room could’ve been cut with a meat cleaver.

just three months ago, it had been your third date and you’d only passed a few light touches and long hugs at this juncture so when he put his hand on your bare knee, it was game over. you pounced on the blond and kissed him for as long as your breath willed you to. it just probably was not the best idea for you to try to undress on your couch.

“is it alright if i take this off?” you say, going to grab the hems of your light pink shirt that wasn’t doing enough to cover the hardness of your nipples. bakugou nosed at your jaw and kissed at your neck before he bit back a groan at this and rested his hands at hem of your skirt before nodding.

“fuck, you don’t gotta ask me, princess. just do it.” your hands slipped under your shirt and revealed underside of your boobs - which bakugou was ready to smooth his hands over until the footsteps of someone approached your living room.

“hey y/n- oh my GOD. i am so sorry oh-” and the footsteps are heard running to another room before a SLAM! echoes in the distance. you had not anticipated that your roommate would be arriving home so early but then again, common sense would have told you to go to your bedroom.

alas, it was too late. the mood had dampened significantly and bakugou awkwardly made his way out of your apartment - failing to look at you or your red faced roommate. he did, however, send a text apologising to the both of you and by the next day, everything had seemingly been forgotten.

the sexual tension had not been forgotten.

there would be many more days where you and bakugou would get hot and steamy before being interrupted by his friends, or a phone call coaxing him back to work, or the fact that the both you were super busy. he was an up and coming hero and while your career wasn’t as demanding as your better half, you were a busy college student: with assignments piling by the day, leaving you with little time to do anything with your boyfriend… which left you both sexually frustrated and unsatisfied… until now.

“there’s so many hot guys here. i should really pick you up more often,” sighs mina happily as she waves at a guy on your campus.

“mina, you are literally a pro hero. you could find a guy way hotter than… the guy who literally sits behind me in my pharmacy class. and he’s a stupid fuckboy, by the way.”

“good thing is i have a thing for stupid fuckboys,” she smiles and you roll your eyes. “but enough about meeee,” she drawls and you groan out loud, “what’s up with you and mr dynamight?” you both reach a red light and she turns to wiggle her eyebrows at you.

“nothing. well, not nothing - we’re fine. just fine.”

“you guys haven’t had sex yet?”

you splutter indignantly and mina taps onto the steering wheel and nods empathetically.

“what- when did i even imply that-”

“a girl always knows when her friend hasn’t done the do with her boyfriend yet. always. you’d be glowing and bubbly and happy but here you are… low-key awkward, not glowing. you don’t have that post-sex first time glow-”

you yell over her ramblings, “okay, OKAY, i get it. fine, we haven’t had sex. but it’s not like we - i don’t want to. it’s just time and finding the privacy to… fuck. and you literally work with katsuki. you know how pedantic he is about his work and his free time.”

“so you’re saying he doesn’t want to fuck? or that he’s avoiding you?” quizzes mina and it’s your turn to sigh, albeit a little sadly.

“i don’t think he’s avoiding me but whenever we get to the point of just doing… it, something happens and now he just doesn’t really initiate it? i don’t know if it’s because he just knows we’ll be interrupted or he just doesn’t want to anymore… am i overthinking it?”

mina parks her car and stares straight on to fully digest what you say before nodding.

“no you’re not - but this is BAKUGOU we’re talking about. he’s not your average guy. have you seen the way he looks at you? it’s like he wants to eat you every time you enter a room. like genuinely i have never seen a more feral man so this is very surprising news to me,” ponders mina and you laugh a little at her admission, kind of grateful for it. before you can say anything, she turns to you and grabs your shoulders.

“i have the perfect idea! we’re having a party at the agency tomorrow night and you should “go.”,” she gestures with finger quotes. you look at her strangely and raise a brow.

“I should “go?”” you copy her gestures and she nods vehemently.

“are you catching my drift?…” you shake your head in confusion and she rolls her eyes, “jeez, okay, look, i’ll remind bakugou about the get together and i’ll tell him that i told you about it. he’ll invite you and when the day comes, you guys just don’t go.”

“we don’t show up? but why-” the cogs in your mind turn inquisitively before you put two and two together at mina’s wiggling brows and you “ohhhhh” in mutual understanding.

“you know, that’s not a half bad idea. as long as you can everyone to not question our absence…”

mina laughs, offended a little at your quip, “y/n, baby, lovely. when i make a proposition, i tie up all the loose ends. it’s just up to you to find the right time and place. you get one evening to sort your sexual tension out. after that, it’s smooth sailing. and i prayyy that you do. have you noticed that he’s been really pent up? bakugou’s angry but he’s like, exceptionally angry, these days-”

“if you’re trying to insinuate he’s mad because he’s sexually frustrated, i have no answer to that. and we’ve been sitting in your car for almost 20 minutes now. we probably look crazy,” you note and mina sighs and nods before grabbing her things.

“you can avoid this conversation but when he taps that, you will tell me all about it and i will not accept no for an answer.” you hum indifferently and make a mental reminder to make up a story if the night that entails will be as raunchy as you hope it will be.

when mina drops you home, bakugou sends a text.

katsuki: y/n, did mina tell you about some dumb thing we’re doing at the agency?”

you smile at that.

you: yeah, she mentioned it. why, are you thinking of going?”

hook…

you tap your toes expectantly as you see the bubbles disappear and reappear.

katsuki: don’t really want to but they’re gonna force me to, so fuck it. you doing anything tomorrow night?”

line…

you: nope, don’t have any plans. why?”

katsuki: you wanna come with as a date? you’ll brighten up the shitty place.”

sinker.

you squeal at your phone and collect yourself to reply.

“sure, kats, I’d love to go with you. you can come over to my parents place so we can get ready together if you’d like.”

“you busy right now? wanna call you.”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer and it rings. you often think you got lucky for having such an easygoing and pliant man and today cements your beliefs as you go to pick up his call.

ᝰᝰᝰᝰᝰ

the day of the party seems like a long one. you made sure that your parents would not be home for the weekend - while it’s terribly unsexy to fuck in your parents home, the chance of your roommate bombarding your sexy time with your boyfriend is too high of a chance to risk and you’ve spent more time than necessary thinking about what the day would entail.

now that you’ve shed your pyjamas, you look at yourself in your bathroom mirror. your orange panties are doing nothing to hide the outline of your kitty and you’re definitely certain that the bra’s purpose was purely just encase your boobs in a rune of bright orange and white.

“i’m never letting mina pick out lingerie for me again,” you sigh as you poke and prod at the pieces. of course mina had to pick out the most raunchy, provocative and immodest pieces known to man. you’re pretty sure you could see the colour of your nipples sticking out of the material. you were somewhat questioning whether this was a good idea. what if bakugou thought this was too much? would he even like this? you definitely should’ve asked him first-

katsuki: on my way. will be there in five.

of course he texts you right at this moment, breaking you out of your horny driven and frantic stupor.

now that you really think about it, when you recall all the time you’ve almost been with bakugou, it makes you close your legs together to calm down any heartbeats ruminating between your legs. it makes the situation of not actually having sex with him yet even more heartbreaking - you want the feeling of his hands running down your body, his lips nipping at your lower belly, down to where you really want him. it makes you wonder what position he’d fold you into, if he’d press you into the mattress and make you cum till you were shaking and crying…

you inhale deeply and run around your home to do a few, final touches. you felt like you were a teenage girl all over again - faffing all about the house and praying that your parents wouldn’t come home and notice that your boyfriend fucked you into your flowery sheets. and you hoped bakugou wouldn’t just yet notice the strong smell of his your favourite perfume and the orange lace clinging onto your ass and boobs underneath meticulous layers of less attractive pyjamas. is this what they call reverse psychology? it’s no time to ponder when your boyfriend knocks on the door and you practically launch yourself downstairs to greet him.

you have to bite back a moan when you see him. seeing as this was a relatively fresh relationship, you both agreed that you wouldn’t always obsess over seeing each other. the last time you saw bakugou was two or so days ago and you make a mental note to throw away that line of thinking when you see your boyfriend in all his glory.

he’s wearing his typical grey joggers and hoodie combo (the one who looks the most biteable in) and he pushes down his hood to reveal his wheat-haired mullet and downright gorgeous face. he enters your home and you stand by patiently waiting for him to drop his bag and take off his shoes before touching all on him.

“you not gonna say hello?” bakugou says gruffly and you roll your eyes (in your head, of course) before walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“hey, baby. missed you,” you kiss into his face and bakugou wraps an arm round your waist and raises his arms to grabs at your cheeks to properly look at your face before kissing you once. and twice. thrice. even four times before you’re laughing and begging him to stop. with a stretched hand, you lead your boyfriend upstairs to your childhood bedroom.

“any reason ya wanted to stop off at your parents instead of my place?” bakugou asked, raising a brow in suspicion. you fight back the urge to overtly shudder at the thought of his friends ruining what will be a long night - especially if you had anything to do with it.

“i was just thinking that we don’t really get much time to ourselves. just us two. i think we’ve only had a proper date to ourselves maybe three times. and i am saying that loosely,” you admit. bakugou scoffs and sits on the edge of your bed.

“‘s not my fault people are always botherin’ us,” he mumbles and then he looks up at you and gestures for you to stand between his legs. you do so quite obediently.

“never said it was, baby,” you say, just above a whisper, as you brush the back of his hair and into his scalp. his hands rest at your knees and rub softly against your thighs and you really have to fight back the urge to jump his bones. but, alas, you had to make him want this just as much as you.

your boyfriend hums and leans into your touch and bakugou looks up at you and smiles, a little mischievous, “so we have your ‘rents house all to ourselves and ya wanna waste it on going to a lame ass company party?”

your eyes widen at that, not really expecting him to almost put two and two together so early on. you grossly underestimated the intelligence of your boyfriend so you had to dispel any ideas of sexual activity before he spearheaded into your plan.

“first of all, you invited me. and second of all, it’d be nice to go and come back to a place all to ourselves for once. we don’t really get to go to parties with your friends often,” you muse and bakugou groans and wraps his arms around your thighs.

“they wouldn’t even know we were missing…” he grumbles and you smile down at him and give him a kiss to his forehead, your thumb passing his brow piercing and booping his nose and lips.

“we don’t even have to go for that long if you don’t want to-”

“i don’t wanna go at all.” bakugou states adamantly and you tap his face and bask in his hold and affection.

“we only have to just show up, so you’re not gonna get out of this one easily. then you have me all to yourself. sounds good, kats?”

bakugou throws his arms off you and himself into your pillows and pulls his phone out - akin to a petulant child and you have to laugh. if only he knew what was actually going to happen.

“yeah, yeah, just - let’s just chill for a bit.. we can at least cuddle before we have to fucking spend time with those idiots,” katsuki grunts and you hum at his reply before clambering on top of your hulk of a boyfriend. you stare down at him in all his glory. now that you were right above him, you notice he looked more tan than usual. and did his lips always look so kissable?

“y/n? you all good up there?” kstsuki asks as he taps softly onto the planes of your temple. you look down at his nose and then his lips and it’s settled.

fuck it. there was no going back now. this was happening today.

“yeah, kats, ‘m good. just missed you, is all,” you breathe out and your boyfriend hums in reply and you thank your lucky stars that he’s sometimes a little naive when it came to you- lest he speedrun his own surprise.

bakugou looks at you, all soft and loving even though all you can see and feel are his red eyes piercing into you. he stuffs his phone into his pocket and pulls you into his wide chest, arms imprisoning you.

“shitty hair just texted me asking where we are. ‘m gonna tell him to fuck off.”

“don’t be mean to your friends,” you scold and bakugou rolls his eyes but he’s barely paying attention to what you’re saying. you try to ignore the fact he’s looking at you properly - drinking you in all angles.

“you gonna let me kiss you or just keep staring?” katsuki asks, eyes all half lidded and brooding. you shy away a little at his upfront neediness for you but you entertain him regardless. you bend down to plant a soft kiss on his mouth but that does little to satiate him.

“the fuck was that? you love torturing me, huh, princess,” katsuki groans and you smile at his expression: all frowny and so, so pretty.

“sorry, sorry, you’re right. just love teasing you,” you say, barely above a whisper and you give katsuki his first proper kiss since seeing him today. the kiss is heavy: all tongue and wet and warm and you grab onto his arms to ground yourself. meanwhile bakugou pulls you down so you’re right on top of him, so he can get a better grip on your ass and easier access to your mouth. you’ve got a leg over his hips and an arm hanging off his shoulder, completely attached. he’s got a large palm on your lower back, slowly drifting further and further to squish your ass.

it’s like this for a couple of minutes; your arms wrapped around his head and neck, his large palms groping at your ass and hips and bakugou’s mouth kissing on your tongue and lips. your leg rests on his waist and you swear you can feel the heat of his dick right then and there. it’s not like you can miss it, all heavy and imposing.

“fucking needed this, baby,” your boyfriend practically moans and a hand sneaks in your pyjama top and shorts and you moan loudly as he squeezes and grabs at you, your leg around his waist pulling him even closer. katsuki pulls back at the feeling of soft lace running across his fingertips and only then does it resonate that he can feel what you’re wearing. he looks at your face with a quizzical look and you want to hide from the sharpness of his eyes.

“what’s this ‘m feeling?” katsuki asks and you stuff your face in his neck as he smoothed his hands on your lace clad hips.

“just a little something i was gonna surprise you with…” you trail off and he sits up at this declaration.

“yeah? something f’me? you not gonna lemme see it?” he muses and your eyes widen. your boyfriend has always been pretty bold so you don’t know why you’re being so shy right now but you comply with his demands and sit up on his lap to pull off your shirt to reveal the brightly coloured brassiere.

bakugou’s breath hitches and his chest rises a little slowly when he sees the bra in it’s entirety. you look gorgeous, he thinks. all innocent and sexy at the same time. he doesn’t know whether he wants your legs on his shoulders so he can taste you until you’re begging him to stop… or whether he should just fold you in half and fuck you until pearly tears are falling down your cheeks.

he decides on complimenting you for the time being:“you look gorgeous, princess. fucking sexy… all f’me, yeah?”

“who else would it be for, dummy?” you say in a low, humorous tone and your hand travels up his chest to rest at his jaw, so you can give him a kiss to his ‘o’ shaped mouth. you slot yourself entirely at the weight of his bottoms and only then do you really feel what you’ve done to him. it’s your turn to make an ‘o’ shaped expression.

you lean down to kiss his lips again, sucking on his bottom lip before letting go with a pop, before smiling at him. katsuki grins back at you, leaning up on his elbows and nudging his nose against yours and you can smell his minty breath. you rest your hand over his stubbled cheek, brushing a hand over it as he slots his lips with yours. he takes his time with you, so much tongue as drinks everything you give him. katsuki lays back down to watch you and runs his hands over your hips, squeezing at your ass and all the parts he can get his hands on.

he decides he’s had enough of the petting and the touches because he groans and grabs at your waist so he can you flip you over.

bakugou presses hot and wet kisses and nips at your jaw and your neck - till he’s laying on his stomach to kiss at the top of your breasts. he’s fiddling with the underwire of the bra before he looks up at you with blown out pupils and a smirk to match.

“we were never going to that party, we’re we, baby?” he hums as he noisily kisses and sucks your collarbones and the fat of your breasts. you know he’s caught you out and trying to elicit a reaction but with the way he’s biting and kissing on you, you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“n-no…” you say, with a hint of a whine, “just wanted you to myself for once.” bakugou can feel himself throb at how much you want him and he climbs up to situate himself exactly above you, his arms caging around your head.

“such a fucking minx, you know that? who knew you had it in you, princess?” he says, looking directly into your eyes. you feel small under his gaze and try to cower away but his hand grabs at the chub of your cheeks.

“don’t get all shy on me now, baby. you knew exactly what you were doing,” katsuki trails off, now littering your neck with gentle bites and hot, wet breath that made your spine shudder and toes writhe.

“you’re not gonna embarrass me. it's gotten me this far, so not a bad deal,” you gasp, just shy of a whimper at your boyfriend’s ministrations. katsuki chuckles at this and sits on his haunches to have a good look at you.

“at least you did your research… y’know orange’s my favourite colour too. can i take this off, princess?” katsuki asks, his hands brushing over the thin straps of your bra. you sit up slightly and nod at him. however, he doesn’t seem content with that answer as he thumbs over your nipple through the bra and you gasp again.

“use your words, pretty girl. that don’t mean shit to me,” he breathes out and you want to fight him for forcing you to beg so explicitly.

“yes, yes please,” you practically cry out and bakugou fixes his hands to undo the clasp of your bra and your breasts spill out of the material. katsuki bites back a moan, his eyes half lidded at the sight of you. he feels like a teenage boy all over again - wanting to grope and bite and kiss at you. so he does exactly that.

discarding your bra, he leans down onto his stomach and goes to playfully bite down at your left nipple and you whine at him, placing a hand in his unruly hair. just as you’re about to scold him, he smoothes over his bites and sucks with wet and soft kisses over the skin. with his free hand, he travels down to your barely there shorts and slips into them, his fingers leaving a ghost of a touch against your pussy.

“can feel how wet you are and i’ve barely even touched you,” whispers bakugou and he kisses at your tits while watching your expression. to say you felt shy under his watchful eyes was understatement. but you still wanted so much more.

“katsuki… please,” you breathe out and he presses his fingers harder into your barely covered clit and you bite your lower lip to stop a squeak from leaving your throat.

“please, what, pretty? you look like you knew what you wanted when you dressed up all sexy f’me,” katsuki says mischievously and you want to slap and ride his face at the same time. you’ll save that for another day.

“please make me… cum,” you finally get out and bakugou kisses at your breasts one last time before descending into the lower half of your body.

“since you used your manners,” katsuki muses but you both knew he wouldn’t pass at the chance to get his mouth on you anyway, recalling back to your moments of interrupted intimacy (or cockblocking as katsuki would call it).

katsuki pulls down your fluffy pyjama shorts to reveal the orange panty ensemble and he bites his lip to hold back a whimper at the noticeable damp spot just at your cunt hole. he looks up at you, who’s clearly embarrassed by all the attention because you’re covering your face with your hands. he playfully bites down on your thigh and you yelp, looking right at his lust filled eyes.

“wan’ you looking at me when ‘m bout to eat you out,” murmurs your boyfriend and you force the heels of your feet dig into the plush of your bed so you don’t clench your thighs at his words.

bakugou continues with looking at your pussy and he can practically see your walls clenching from how turned you are and he feels impossibly harder at the thought of tasting you. he places a small, wet kiss on panty-covered clit and you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

katsuki continues to lave and give attention to your pussy by soft and wet kisses through the material and your whimpers were about to turn into complaints until he pulls the dampened material down your legs and stuffs it in his trouser pocket.

in any other given situation, you would have brought that up but katsuki launches himself between your legs and starts suckling at your clit and suddenly, whatever happened before has been forgotten. you cry out at the sudden attack on your pussy and the noises that come out of you are borderline pornographic.

“k-katsuki, fuck, that feels so g-good,” you stutter, whole body practically trembling.

“yeah?” your boyfriend chuckles, “you taste good, princess. can’t believe i went this long without having you on my face,” he grunts, alternating between kissing and sucking at your clit and your lips. when you thought it couldn’t get any better, he slowly presses two fingers into your hole and your head falls back into the pillows.

katsuki’s watching your reaction and he’s humping the bed for even a lick of friction; the way you taste and sound is too much for his senses. he can feel the tip of his dick leaking when you cry out his name and his eyes roll back when he feels you clench around him.

“o-oh, ‘m gonna come, kats, fuck, ‘s too much-”

“that’s it, baby. doing so well f’me, fuck. wan’ you to come all over my face. can you do that f’me?” asks bakugou while he alternates between stroking your inner walls and tongue-fucking you.

you nod, unable to answer and practically scream before your eyes begin to roll back, your toes begin to curl and the effects of your orgasm hit you like a truck. all you can see is white and you can’t even comprehend the noises coming out of you.

katsuki decides he is in love with the way you look when you come undone. he fucks you through your orgasm, lapping up everything that you give him and he only stops when your thighs begin to close up around his head and you make feeble attempts to push him away. not wanting to overwhelm you, he kisses your clit before sitting up and notes that he would stay between your legs some other day.

meanwhile, you’re catching your breath and your eyes are brim with a few unshed tears and katsuki chuckles breathily at you. you pout, “don’t laugh at me,” and he smiles in awe at your naked beauty. it’s only then when his eyes rake up and down your body that you realise he’s still completely clothed.

“starting to think you’re allergic to getting naked.. i’m feeling all exposed and left out,” your pout deepens and he stretches a hand to pinch at your nipple and you yelp and swat him away.

“relax, pretty girl, all you had to do was ask. ‘sides, not like i can fuck you in my clothes,” katsuki smirks and you roll your eyes and nibble your lips, impatiently awaiting to see your boyfriend in all his true glory.

bakugou pulls off his jumper and shirt in one go to reveal his tan chest and various miscellaneous tattoos, including one of your favourite flower right under his right pec. he then goes onto to pull down his joggers to reveal tight, grey briefs - and you hold your breath at the sight.

your mouth waters when you can see the length of his meat alongside his thigh and you can even see the damp patch on where the head of his mushroom-shaped tip is supposed to be. katsuki can see you checking him out and his chest puffs up a little at this.

“you look like you’re about to eat me, princess,” he jokes and you raise a brow.

when you’re about to bite back at him, you realise that you’re way too horny to waste anymore time and instead, you just nod seductively and open your arms so he can rest on top of you.

katsuki accepts and his arms rest by your head. he’s directly above you and only now does the sheer size of your boyfriend dawn on you. his whole body hulks over you and you’re unable to hold back a whimper that escapes when you realise just how hot this situation is.

“you still turned on? anythin’ i can do to help you?” katsuki snickers and you know he gets off on teasing you: he’s enjoying your helplessness and the fact that you’re so horny you’ve been rendered slightly brainless.

“stop teasing me,” you pout and katsuki leans down to kiss your pouty lips and he smiles, all warm at you even though he’s one clothing item away from rearranging your insides.

“sorry, princess. ‘s just fun to tease ya, is all. believe me when i say i wan’ this just as much as you do,” he grunts out and he sits up to finally rid of his briefs.

the wait is agonisingly long but when bakugou finally strips himself naked, your whole world stops.

your boyfriend is a hefty, adonis of a man so the size of his cock should’ve never surprised but no amount of mental physical preparation could have prepared you for the actual thing. it’s beautiful, veiny and thick - the length being tan with a vein that climbs all the way to the head of his cock: which sits at a dark pink, almost red colour, dribbling with precum. at the base of his cock sits a tuft of blond hair and your mouth basically waters.

katsuki’s dick twitches a little at your unwavering gaze and it’s his turn to feel a little embarrassed. you sit up and reach a hand out to thumb at his most prominent vein and a mixture of a groan and a whimper catches at the back of his throat. he feels like - he knows he could come just from looking at you as you brush against his cock.

it’s why he jumps to crowd over you on the bed and grabs your right thigh to sit at his waist.

“you think you’re ready? ‘m gonna ease into you slowly, ‘kay? promise you’ll tell me if it hurts,” he insists and you make sure to verbally reply, lest he waste time trying to get you to speak up.

“fuck, yes, ‘m ready, please put it in already,” you beg and katsuki wants to call you needy but the mushroom head of his cock brushes against your slick pussy lips and any smart reply he has locked and loaded in his head goes out his ear.

katsuki grabs his cock and brushes it on your clit, your lips and then circles your cunt hole and you’re clenching just at the feeling of him pressing down onto your most sensitive parts. you were half sure he was going to make you beg for it but before you could blink, he presses into you and your head would’ve hit the headboard had katsuki not place his hand behind you knowingly.

the feeling of him inside you is too much but not enough simultaneously and your hands grip at his forearms and you’re not sure on whether you want to push him away or bring him closer.

meanwhile, katsuki’s fighting his own mental battle: he curses himself for putting this off for too long and also prays that he doesn’t come before he at least gets yku off. you’re tighter, warmer, wetter than he anticipated and he can’t get enough of you. he’s not even watching himself feed his cock into your gooey hole, deathly afraid that if he looks down for at least one measly second, he would bust so deep into you, you’d be pregnant with triplets.

katsuki’s eyebrows are furrowed as he finally sheathes all the way into you and you rest a hand on his lower abdomen at a feeble attempt to push him away.

“i don’ think is’ gonna f-fit,” you slur, “‘m so full.” katsuki grabs your hand and lifts it above your head in a small, handholding embrace.

“don’t push me away,” he practically growls and he situates himself so he’s resting on top of you again, “you’re a big girl. if you wan’ me off of ya, you know to use ya words.”

you furrow your brows and look away from his dark eyed gaze and he chuckles, “that’s what i thought.”

katsuki pulls himself slightly out of your warmth, only to grind himself back in at an antagonising pace. he sets a speed and he lets go of your hand to properly rest on his forearms above you. you use this as an opportunity to wrap your arms around his back; your face scrunched and bottom lip tucked under your teeth.

you can feel katsuki’s pants above you and you finally open your eyes to see him and he’s probably never looked more sexy and eatable. his hair is sticking to his forehead and his eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that frown will probably be stuck for a while. katsuki angles himself just ever so slightly and you throw your head back in unabashed pleasure as he hits that sweet spot inside you.

“you like that, sweet girl? look at you.. fuck, all fucked out. wan’ you to tell me how good ‘m fucking you,” katsuki breathes out and you swear you’re not ignoring him on purpose because with the way his cock presses inside you and with the way his pubes brush against your clit, all you can muster is a broken moan (one that katsuki will definitely tease you about later).

“that’s how good ‘m fucking ya? can’t even - fuck, ha - can’t even speak, can ya?,” he says out loud and his words are coming in waves. katsuki reaches down to flick at your pearl and your legs seize up around him as you babble mindlessly to appease him.

“yess, feels so good, so deep, ‘can feel you so deep inside, kats - ohh, right there, pleaseee,” you warble and katsuki lifts your right leg to his shoulder to get impossibly deeper inside you.

“fuck, can’t believe i went so long without this sweet pussy,” he grunts out and the feeling of you cunt spasming around him hits at 100mph. you become sloppier, wetter and katsuki finds himself being able to fuck you right to the base of his cock. then it hits him: you just came.

“did y’ just fucking come already? jesus, fuck, haven’- haven’t even properly fucked you yet. so dirty, baby,” katsuki moans out and you can’t hear a word he’s saying. your nails dig in deeper to his shoulder blades and the soles of your feet press into his back as you’re still coming down from your high.

“d’ya think you can go again f’me, princess?” your boyfriend asks politely but the way he asks is anything but polite as he’s already folding both your legs to place them on his shoulder as you’re pushed and manhandled into a mating press.

katsuki still hasn’t pulled out and his cock is throbbing inside you and he wants to cum so fucking badly. but the unshed tears in your eyes made his heart beat a little faster than usual and he would never want to push you past your limits.

“you alright to continue, y/n?” he asks sternly, his expression slightly worried and you amass all the strength your body will allow to pull him down and you link your arms around his neck.

“so serious, katsuki,” you joke, still a little out of breath and he rolls his eyes and stares down at you lovingly while your thumb brushes against his cheek.

“make me cum so hard ‘m seeing stars,” you whisper and katsuki growls as he pulls out and sheathes himself deep into you while you cry out.

“you get what you wish for, princess.”

katsuki places his hands on the back of your thighs and goes crazy at you; desperate for both your releases. the sound of skin and the wetness of your pussy echos in your bedroom and accompanied with the your gasps and cries, the sounds of the room were past the point of being just pornographic.

you swore you’d have his hands imprinted on the back of your thighs with the way he was groping them and with this position, you could feel everything so much more. he was so deep inside you and you swore you could feel him in your stomach as you writhed under him as your third climax of the night crept on you. you were already so sensitive from the last two and you knew this was the one that was going to wreck you.

“‘m so-o close, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna make a mess,” you gasp, moving to wrap your arms around katsuki’s neck. you could tell from his tightly wound facial expressions that he was not too far off.

“y-yeah? make a fucking mess on me princess, f-fuck, cum all over me an’ i’ll give you everything i’ve got, baby,” he grunts and he slides an arm down between you both to thumb at your swollen clit and you seize at the feeling.

“‘s too much, katsuki, too - oh-oh, ‘m gonna,” you cry o out and you grab your boyfriend’s face, “pl-please kiss me, please,” you beg, pearly tears streaming down your face and katsuki moans out.

“anything for you, pretty,” he rumbles and he slots his mouth over yours as your orgasm hits at you in waves. katsuki can feel sprays of your release hit on his pelvis and his eyes roll back.

“that’s it, pretty girl, make a fuckin’ - make a fuckin’ mess on me,” katsuki kisses into your tongue before coming deep inside you and moaning out loudly as you kiss him back to goad him through his orgasm.

you both ride out your climaxes and your boyfriend watches where you’re both connected and he pulls out, hissing while you whimper and he eventually collapses on top of you. you hold him close to your chest as you match his breathing pattern. the silence is comforting and you scratch at the nape of his head and he opens an eye while his face is pressed into your tummy.

“you okay?” you ask katsuki and he wraps his arms tighter around your body as response but you’re not satisfied with that.

“use your words, baby,” you tease and katsuki playfully digs his teeth into your belly and you make a feeble attempt to push him away.

“should be asking you that instead. fucking squirted all over me,” katsuki chuckles and you gasp, lifting up your hands to hide behind them in embarrassment.

“god, that’s so embarrassing, i can’t believe i did that,” you say, all muffled but katsuki pulls your hands from your face and kisses at your palm.

“was sexy, baby. want you to do that every time we fuck,” he mumbles, nosing little kisses onto your chest and tummy. your boyfriend looks adorable like this: all fucked out, exhausted and glowy and you’re holding back the urge to ‘awwh’ at him while you pet and rub his face with your thumb.

“and i want you to get off me so i can shower. ‘m all gross and sweaty and sticky,” you complain, albeit lightheartedly and when you make the attempt to get up, the blond jumps up like he was never tired.

“sit your ass down and let me run us a bath. and i’ll know if you moved,” katsuki warns, walking to your bathroom in his naked glory and you laugh and before he exits the room, he turns to pass you a quizzical glance.

“nothing, it’s just, your butt is so cute. i can’t believe i never noticed it before!”

“y/n, so help me god, i’ll throw your dumbass into the bathtub,” yells your hot headed man and you giggle at his ‘threat’, watching him try to hide his butt from you as you go to follow him to the bathroom, disobeying his every rule.

so when mina and the bakusquad anyone asks you about your first time, you tell them it was something you waited dearly for and you wouldn’t change for the world.

“uh, kats? why did kiri just text asking if we finally ‘fucked and got it over with?’”

so maybe it wasn’t spontaneous for your boyfriend either. but it’s like you said-

“i will kill that red headed bastard,” yells out katsuki, grabbing his phone and throwing you over his shoulder as you squeal.

you wouldn’t really change a thing.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #self indulgence at its finest #this was proofread let’s clap and cheer!#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha bakugo smut #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #༝˚૮ .♡ katsuki.#moominsuki™#✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕#✎𓂃uma thirsts。°˖⌕

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seattlesellie · 11 months

Text

not about love. (part 4 & final)

read: part one || part two || part three

pairing: college loser!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis: after ellie kisses someone else, you run. then, you run again. at the end? she finally fucking chases you.

warnings: some miscommunication, slight angst, alcohol & weed, mentions of homophobia (d slur), smut (mdni), oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), scissoring, top!ellie, bottom!reader, panties kink (?), mentions of strap, first time w ellie, love love love <3

authors note: i had so much fun writing this. i hope you guys like it. i’m still thinking about a short part five, but well see how it goes ˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴:

"(The Party & The After Party -The Weeknd)"

01:23 ━━━━●───── 03:43

ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ

---˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹---

it's funny, how guilt begins with a subtle tickle. it's delicate at first, ignited like a gentle caress down her throat. it is not like jealousy, that dawns on you with a thud right inside. for her, for ellie, it's almost like a whisper. it glides down her body, maneuvers its way around, and then it lands inside the pit of her stomach, making it churn, toss and twist from the insides out, like an ever erupting ticking bomb.

she shouldn't have kissed that girl, that, she knew. the answer to why, she truly doesn't know— don't ask her no stupid questions. she knew it was wrong when she slid her tongue down her throat, knew it was wrong when she took the back of her neck into her palm, and felt how wrong it was when she looked deep into her eyes, panting, with a ruby blush creeping up on her cheeks. it wasn't because you left, god knows she would have felt how wrong it was even if you didn't, but alas, you did. you did leave. and that's why right at this second— her brain was fuzzy, knuckles colored white, legs moving faster and faster with no control.

truly, what ellie did wasn't wrong, neither was it selfish. you weren't a couple, she didn't belong to you, and neither you to her. she was a free woman, and so were you. and yet, your imaginations told a completely different tale. the truest colors of your thoughts— ready to erupt and spill out of you as if tomorrow never came.

she must have bumped into at least twenty sweaty, inebriated bodies. the outside world seemed to move and twist in a blur, but her mind moved oh so slowly. it was as if walking to the bathroom, took her over two hours. in reality, it took exactly three minutes, until she bumped into one extraordinarily tall man.

he rocked a bleach blonde buzz cut, a red bandana on his forehead, and ridiculously tiny sunglasses.

"yo— williams!" he declared, stopping her right in her tracks. she looked up to face him, and he was much, much taller.

"dude, look" he said, pointing right at her face, grabbing the attention of his ridiculous looking, slightly shorter pal.

"that's the girl alison likes!" he shouted, and she could feel the beer stench creeping up in her nostrils, making them twist.

"bro, you must be something special, she almost bribed the shit out of kyle just to make you kiss her"

ellie looked around the corridor, her eyes darting from his face to the floor. people... want to kiss her? it made her feel proud, inflating her ego and making it swell hard in her chest. a second later, it completely wore off. she didn't give a fuck about people— not about most of them.

"yeah, hey dude" she huffed, her lips curling up to a shy smile.

"so tell me, williams— did you scissor on the floor?" he interrogated.

"really gotta go to the bathroom" she voiced.

"no dude, wait... let me ask, i’m fucking interested" he uttered, blocking her path and leaning against the cream-colored wall with his arm.

"do lesbians actually fucking scissor?" his shorter friend questioned.

ellie always had a short temper. it would creep up on her when she least expected it, jolting inside of her brain and making the vein on her forehead pop. lately, she's been listening to some guided meditation on youtube. angela, was the name of the lady who's gentle voice she would listen to every once in a while. "deep breath in, and let it out... think of the rain, pouring and pouring, tickling down your window... and let yourself breatheee..." ellie took a deep breath in, and exhaled.

"y'all should send me a video when you're done fucking"

yeah, fuck angela.

"move out of the fucking way man, i gotta piss" she raised her tone slightly. maybe angela's voice still rung in her ears, because she didn't even consider punching him in the face.

"not fucking moving, williams— c'mon, we wanna fucking know all about it"

ellie might have been shorter by several inches, but god knows she was much stronger. with a firm grip on his bicep, she exerted her power and effortlessly tossed him to the side.

"fucking dyke" he snickered.

"die asshole" she uttered, and flipped him off.

the bathroom seemed to be closer, and her pacing was steadier. she was going to talk to you, that's it.

she opened the door, and exhaled. she didn't even know she had been holding her breath. the coppery scent of cigarettes, and overwhelmingly sweet, citrusy bathroom incense tickled at her nose. four women stood in front of the broken mirror. a blonde one, a brunette, one with braids, and one with a big cap on her head. they either giggled at each other, or to themselves, ellie truly didn't care.

"is there anyone in the stalls?" she questioned in a low voice. they clearly couldn't hear, her words barely audible over the overwhelming music that blared from outside.

she cleared her throat, and tried again.

"are the stalls empty?"

the brunette turned around to face her, a radiant smile spreading across her face, revealing a row of gleaming teeth.

"i dunno" she huffed, and turned around to face the friend by her side.

"but you can—" she stifled a giggle, and then it erupted.

"piss on the floor" she quipped, earning herself the symphony of her friend's breathless, intoxicated laughter.

"great" ellie muttered under her breath. just great.

she turned around to face the stalls, and began.

one knock, two knocks— she felt that guilt twisting in her stomach again.

fuck it, she fully banged on the door. those girls left, after they side eyed her shameless, and walked off. if you were anywhere to be found in that bathroom, it was just the two of you now.

she propelled her foot forward at the door, it swung open, propelled by the force, creating a resounding bang against the wall, echoing twice. the air caressed her face, and she shivered. It was not the chill of the room that caused her tremor. what if you weren't there? what if you left?

the third stall's door she kicked as well, and she couldn't hide her disappointment anymore.

"fuck" she hissed.

the fourth one must be empty as well. she didn't exactly believe in luck. she kicked it, the door budged slightly, but it didn't fly open. it was locked.

you lifted your legs up to meet your chin, holding yourself together in a hug. you felt absolutely embarrassed. you knew you didn't have any right to get like this. the tears swelling up in your eyes and the mascara running all over your cheeks, clinging itself to the delicate skin, making it itch and burn had no right to even exist. she didn't belong to you.

she knocked on the door again.

"you in there?" she croaked. did you hear the guilt lacing her words? it was buried inside of her stomach, after all.

"no... i mean— fuck" you sniffled, bumping your palm on your forehead. "no?" really?

"open the door" she uttered.

silence.

"please?"

you wiped the tears from your eyes, and grabbed a piece of toilet paper to wipe the mascara running profusely, leaving dark, messy spots on your cheeks.

"i’m peeing, ellie— go away"

"no you're not, open the door"

she must have heard you sniff away your snot gathering on the tip of your nostrils.

"i just wanna talk" she quietly said, her voice just above a whisper. ellie stood there, her arm steady on the door, waiting for you to let her in.

"dont wanna" *sniff* "talk"

she took a deep breath. "im not moving. i could stay here all night" you knew she could.

"well..." *sniff* "so can i" you hiccuped.

"cool"

"cool" you repeated.

ellie turned her back away from the door, and leaned against it. three whole minutes of absolute silence had passed, neither of you talking, but so much left unsaid. when the image of ellie kissing that girl flashed inside of your brain, hitting you like a lighting bolt, you giggled to yourself.

"what's so funny?" she questioned, crossing her arms.

"shouldn't you be with your new girlfriend?"

that was it for you. no more hiding. if hurt was the main feeling your heart held just five minutes ago, it mixed around with the tangy, salty taste of jealousy now, laced with the spiciness of anger. you twisted the doorknob, and let it fly open, bumping against ellie's back, making her jump to the other side.

you truly couldn't care if she knew you were crying. what's the point of hiding anymore? who gives a fuck. perhaps— it was sudden wind of courage washing over you. most likely— it was the plastic cup filled with cheap vodka cranberry emptying out inside of your stomach. you placed the cup on the sink, and washed your hands. you didn't even glance at ellie, who stared at you in disbelief.

"what the fuck are you talking about?" she probed, her arms slapping down on her thighs.

"alison, duh"

ellie swallowed deeply.

"or arielle or... whatever the hell her name is" you glanced at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a mess. ellie thought you looked beautiful, she wanted to tell you the moment you came out of the building.

she didn't even know what to say, her eyes staring at the floor, attempting to keep it together.

"was the kiss nice?" you wiped your hand on your skirt.

"it looked nice. so hot!" you nudged her shoulder. every single word that came out of your mouth sounded like you had just run a marathon. they flowed out quick, and even the dumbest person alive would know you were talking out of pure jealousy. maybe ellie was even dumber than him.

"what's gotten into you?" she muttered.

"nothing! happy my best friend's gonna get finally ged laid.. god knows you needed it, el" you patted her head. oh, you were done for.

ellie's eyebrows rose. deep, deep breaths. she stood mute, letting you finish your little speech.

it was as if someone pinned up the apple's of your cheeks together and forced you to smile.

"how long has it been since you fucked?" you tilted your head. you didn't make eye contact, you just stared right between her eyebrows. if you looked at her, you'd have probably burst crying.

"let alone... kissed somebody"

ellies tongue brushed the side of her mouth, and her jaw clenched.

"why are you asking me this?"

you averted your gaze to the side, your breath caged in your throat.

"because were best friends, and best friends talk about these thing! and... you really needed to fucking get some pu—"

she moved closer. you couldn't not face her now. you looked into her eyes and god it fucking hurt. there it was again. dont cry, dont fucking cry.

"how long..." it was as if her eyes were chasing yours. look at me, look at me. "has it been for you?"

your entire face felt like it was fucking itching. your nails dug little crescent moons into your palms. her breath tickled your nose and you swore, you've never been this close to her. you tried focusing on her freckles, counting them inside of your mind, pretending to connect the dots in a thin line. it hurt knowing that she must have seen them this close up too.

"this isn't about me, so" you whispered. you wanted to sound assertive, and aggressive, but you failed miserably. you just sounded ridiculous and sad.

"i think it is" she whispered, too. matching you completely. her lips were so plump and they felt so close and—

"why did you cry?"

"i did not cry" is it really a lie, if she knows the truth already?

"tell me" god, she smelled like the most intoxicating thing in the world. your ellie. or not your ellie, just ellie.

"leave me alone" you mumbled.

"no"

"m'not leaving you alone"

you could kiss her now. you could feel her lips brush against yours and you could kiss her, and tell her everything she wants to know, because god knows she needs it.

you were a coward.

you left, and she didn't chase you. she was a coward too.

she needed a fucking blunt.

────────────

the air felt crisp and biting against her skin. the moon, obscured by thick clouds, offered only glimpses of its pale light. shadows danced and flickered, and the distant howl of the wind rung in her ears. the blunt was delicately held between her fingers, and wisps of smoke curled and swirled in the air around her. she took a leisurely drag, and sighed.

she wasn't new to being alone. she liked bathing in solace, surrounded by her thoughts. usually, it felt nice, and it calmed her down. you, you were anything but calming. being alone was like a sunny beach day. being with you was a storm. you made her palms sweat and her heart beat faster. sometimes, she swore she might have a heart attack. you were her best friend, but it never truly felt like it. best friends tell each other everything, best friends hug and they hold each others hands. best friends dont disappear when the sun sets because they are afraid of what might happen in the dark, and they certainly don't feel like there's no more air left to breathe when they're around each other. they dont touch themselves thinking of each other, and their world doesn't crush upon them when they show interest in other people.

she wasn't your best friend, and neither were you her's.

ellie takes another hit. then, she remembers that one day in tenth grade. you both walked home from school, and you stopped right in your tracks. you asked her if she feels weird around you, if this peculiar feeling creeps up on her from time to time as well. when she asked you what you meant, you told her that sometimes it feels like she isn't your friend. that it feels like the universe has glued you two together, but not for the reason she thinks. when she asked you what you thought it was for, you shrugged, and told her that only time will tell. she felt her insides turn and her ears burned bright red. then, you sighed, and said; "maybe were soulmates" she had to stop herself from grinning, or fucking exploding, and her heart missed a beat. "platonic ones, obviously... maybe were not supposed to be best friends, just two souls who float around each other. you got any snacks? m'starving"

she flicks the blunt and the ashes fall down on the grass. she brings it to her lips again, and shuts her eyes close.

"ellie?"

she opens them fast and turns her head around. it takes her a moment to recognize, as the high washes over her body, but she finally sees.

alison.

"can i sit with you?" she asks while moving closer, and gives her a timid smile.

ellie clears her throat, and drags her body over to the side.

"sure"

the ginger sits next to her, and she relaxes her face.

they sit in silence for a moment.

"t'was a nice kiss" she whispers, and ellie looks at her from the corner of her eye. she should feel shy, and nervous being around the girl she had just kissed. for some reason, she doesn't.

"yeah..." ellie affirms.

"t'was"

the girl looks at the ground, and then looks at ellie again. she smiles, and breathes deeply.

"i wasn't the one you wanted to kiss though" she remarks, and lays her back comfortably against the bench.

"mmph— what do you mean?" ellie feels it now. the nervousness. it wasn’t there before.

"your friend" she bites her lip. she's not looking at ellie anymore, she's staring at the ground.

"what... friend?"

"the one who ran off"

ellie doesn't speak, just brings her lips to form a tight line. was it that... obvious?

"i mean... did you at least go after her? she asks, and she says it kindly, like she cares. weird.

ellie takes a second to respond. she considers denying it, running off just like you did. fuck it, she's high enough.

"yes" is all she mutters, and its quiet. she thinks this is the first time she ever talked about it out loud. only her journal knows, her brave soldier holding on to all of her little secrets, and now, alison knows too.

"and... did something happen?"

she wishes something did.

"no she— she ran off. again, so" she takes another drag, and it burns in her throat. she needs a glass of water, a cool one. maybe she needs a bucket to fall on her head too.

"and you didn't chase her?" the girl questions again. ellie feels like she's being interrogated. for some reason she doesn't even begin to understand, she feels relieved in a way, too. who knew talking could be so... nice. maybe its the high, she wonders.

"she clearly... doesn't want me around so— why would i chase her" that sentence carried a sadness to it. her voice broke when she spoke, and she feels like slapping herself across the cheek. she offers alison the blunt, and the girl takes it in between her fingers, and nods.

"so you just... let her go?"

ellie doesn't respond. she wants her blunt back. talking isn't nice, she decides.

"can i ask you a personal question?" alison takes a drag before ellie responds.

"you already sort of did so, be my guest"

"are you in love with her?"

ellie's breath hitches inside her throat, and she feels like digging a hole in the ground and burying herself inside. she knew she was, but it didn't fucking matter. you weren't in love, and that was that.

"people in this college are fucking weird, man" she comments, and in one second she has the blunt right between her fingers again. finally.

"yeah... heard this crazy girl banged up on all of the bathroom doors and started kicking the stalls"

"ah" she huffs.

"touché"

its silent for a second before she asks her again.

"what do you feel when you're around her?"

"are you a psych major by any chance?" she questions, narrowing her eyes.

"yep. so, let me psychoanalyze you. pretend its for my... project or something. i ask you questions, you respond... and then i get a super good grade thanks to you"

she bites her lips, and looks to the side. she considers hiding herself inside of the bush till the girl goes away.

"i'm your therapist, go 'head"

ellie rolls her eyes, and considers. fucking fuck it. maybe writing this shit on paper isn't enough.

"i feel like i can't breathe around her, sometimes. like... there's this fucking thing"

"what thing?"

"fucking... god... thing it’s a fucking thing. i have to stop myself from doing shit... s'fucking stupid."

alison smiles. and she nudges ellie on and on till she speaks again.

"its like— every time i'm fucking around her, it physically hurts me... that I ca— that I can't fucking have her. or that... it like, tingles in my fucking hands. and my fucking heart starts beating and my brain goes all foggy and I feel like I'm going to fucking faint. I want to be around her, I fucking want to— but every time she's next to me I feel like im gonna vomit. and she makes me fucking sick and I just wanna hold her and..."

she's never breathed so deeply in her life.

"that's... a lot" alison mutters.

"yeah..." ellie takes another drag, and barely exhales.

"doesn't fucking matter anyways. she doesn't see me that way."

alison's eyebrows rise up, and she looks at ellie like she's fucking stupid.

"ellie... she saw you kiss me and she fucking ran away. like, she physically ran away. are you blind? or are you stupid?"

"did you just call me stupid?" ellie huffs. was she? was she stupid?

"listen to me" she begins, and forces ellie to look her in the eyes.

"it's like..." the girl takes a peak at her iphone screen.

"1:30am."

"okay?" ellie huffs. her stomach's turning again.

"you're in love with this girl, and if you don't go after her right now it's gonna be too late"

"i can go tomorrow" ellie whispers. she won't. shed go back to her old habits of hiding and pining till her brain burns.

"you won't"

"fuck" she mutters under her breath.

"go!" the girl yells, and nudges ellie's arm.

"okay like— right fucking now?" ellie says loudly, and she feels her feet fucking lifting her up off of the bench, like she again, has no control over her body.

"right now, go!"

she curses herself out under her breath. fuck. it.

ellie starts running, and running, and running, and her shoes are meeting the ground with loud bangs, flopping up and down against her ass. she didn't to track in high school, but if coach charlie saw her now, he'd sign her up and shed get a full fucking athlete's scholarship. she feels her heart thudding in her ears, and she has no time to even think. what the fuck is she doing? where is she going? what if you'll tell her to go the fuck away? what if she's delusional, completely braindead, she wonders to herself for a tiny second, as she catches her breath.

and then— the image of you, mascara running down your cheeks flashes in her brain.

you cried, because she kissed another fucking girl.

"m'not— fucking" she pants,

"delusional"

she's standing right in front of rockefeller housing. brown cobblestone, as if each brick and mortar had witnessed countless stories unfold within its hallowed halls. she gets a hold of herself, before her heart punctuates in her chest, and stands still, chest heaving up and down. she looks up at your room's window, and its standing lit. you're still awake. she feels like she just won the fucking lottery.

she almost whoo hoo's! but she's way too "cool" for that. so she walks slowly, pats herself on the shoulder, and yells a loud;

"fuck yes!"

"shut the fuck up!"

oh shit. she just woke someone up.

────────────

how corny was it to lounge inside of your room, alone, the mellow tunes of lana's "ultraviolence" playing from your antique turntable?

very corny.

but you didn't mind. your tears had dried up already, and you were comfy in pretty white silk pajama's, a bowl of cheddar popcorn and that same goddamn boxed wine.

someone just screamed a terrifyingly loud "shut the fuck up!" from outside of your window. you'd have laughed, usually, but your mind was occupied. you felt tortured, and sickly, and why the fuck did you leave like that? it was embarrassing, truly, she watched you cry, and you interrogated her with bizarre, passive aggressive questions that would make the calmest man alive want to bash his head against the wall.

"breakfast at tiffanys" played on the television, and cat just ran away. you pouted, and sighed deeply. you were too tired now, and your eyelids felt heavy. you lifted yourself off of the bed, and made your way to turn off the lights, and drift away.

knock knock knock.

who the fuck is knocking at your door at 2am? it must be your roommate, jen, returning from the party.

you twist the doorknob, and yawn.

oh god.

"ellie?"

she gulps. she looks down on the floor, and up at you again. she looks absolutely panicked, and her bangs are sticking to her forehead. three of her hair strands formed a sweet little heart shape filled with sweat. her hand is shaking and she would have pounced right on you and fucking kissed you already if she had the fucking courage—

you step back.

"what are you doing here?" you quip, and your voice is so small and sweet that it truly kills her inside.

"i would've—" she takes a small step and enters inside of your room. she looks around, and the candles and the fucking lana playing in the background and she's sure she's gonna be sick because you're so fucking cute and your eyes are puffy and lips all swollen like they had been stung by a bee, and she wants to be your medicine and kiss them so hard you fall on the floor, but all she can mutter is;

"fucking brought you something... but it was all closed— all the fucking stores were closed because its the middle of the fucking night"

"what stores... wha— what are you talking about?" you whisper as you take a step back, you want to offer her a glass of water because she's sweating but you just can't.

"fuck— fucking flower shop or something, or those fucking chocolate covered fruits you like or—“

"what?" you mutter, breathless as if you were the one who just ran a marathon.

"you cried" she points a finger at you. you back away, taking a small step to further yourself away from her.

"you cried because i kissed another girl" she huffs, and her eyebrows scrunch together.

"I didn't—" you try and interrupt, unsuccessfully.

"you cried and that means that you fucking— you dont want me to kiss other girls"

you bite your lip so hard it feels like it might start drawing blood and run all over your chin. oh no.

"you want me to kiss— fuck it"

a supernova. as a dying star unleashes its final act, igniting in like a cosmic firework, it paints the galaxy like a canvas. shades of ruby red, sapphire blue, and shimmering gold intermingle together and create the most beautiful piece of art the universe has ever witnesses.

that's what it felt like when her lips were on yours.

they brushed up against you as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and perhaps it was.

when you imagined your first kiss with ellie, convinced you were indulging yourself in pure delusion, you thought it would be soft, and gentle. it felt as if her lips were running away from yours, and you had to chase them to meet against you again.

this kiss, was anything but. so perhaps you were delusional, but not in the heartbreaking way.

when her tongue first met yours, intertwining itself so perfectly, swirling around fervently inside of your mouth, bumping into your teeth and pulling you in, her lips sucking on it like she'd die if you ever pulled back, gentle was the last word you could use to describe it.

hungry, and ravenous, it was.

her knees felt like the were going to give up beneath her, and leave her a crumpled mess on the floor. if she thought that being around you felt like her heart was thudding out of her chest, kissing you was much, much worse. kissing you made her feel like her heart left her already, and leaped right into your being.

she broke the kiss first, refusing to open her eyes. so did you, you couldn't believe it was actually happening.

"you..." she whispered, and her breath tickled your nose.

"i..." you whispered in response. there were no words you could mutter, they would never come out coherent enough.

"ive..." she huffed.

"wanted to do this for so fucking—"

you brought your lips together to meet again. this time, it was softer, and gentle, but you didn't have to chase her away, because she stayed.

"me too" you whispered, or fully whined, you truly didn't know.

"no you dont..."

"you dont understand" she cupped your cheeks between her palms, she wouldn't even open her eyes, afraid of what she might do if she opened them and realized it was only just a dream.

"i do" you plead. her hands were warm and your cheeks were scorching hot against them.

"i need you"

"you need me?"

"it hurts"

"what hurts?" she whispered as she brushed her finger on your cheek. it was delicate, and soft.

"my heart" you hiccuped, a broken sob escaping your lips. you couldn't hold it in anymore, and a fat tear streamlined down your face, like a little river, rolling down inside of ellie's palm.

she wanted to kiss you again, but she had to hear you say it.

"when i'm... not with you— when i can't... and when you kissed her" you sobbed. "it hurt so bad"

"it hurt me too"

"please kiss me aga—“

so she did. again, and again, and again, till your throat felt dry and you kept seeing stars erupting inside of your brain.

chest against chest, heaving up and down on each other, she caressed your waist, and pulled you closer. when the kissed deepened again, you moaned, and it got swallowed inside of her mouth.

"you can't do that or i won't... fuck— won't be able to fucking stop"

"do what?" you asked, your bottom lip still brushing against her top one.

"can't make those sounds"

"w— why?" your chest caressed her's, and it was ellie's turn to let out a deep grunt.

"because ive thought... ive wa— i think about you all the fucking time like this"

"me too..." you admitted, breathing in her scent.

she wanted to ask you exactly what you thought about. she wanted to hear you say it, in exact, firm sentences. do you touch yourself thinking about her too? that would make her fucking lose her mind. instead, she took you in her arms, and banged you up against the wall.

thud "oh god" you hiccuped.

"yeah?" she teased, breathless. she wanted to do it better, wanted to sound more firm and stern and make you beg and tell her and whine on the floor but she was too fucking desperate for that right now.

"m'gonna— fuck" she hissed, when your tits grazed her's again.

"is this happening?" she whispered, and held your waist so tight in her arms. her body heat against yours made you completely shiver. she traced small circles on your hips but when you bucked forward her hands started shaking. she traced squares, or squiggly lines, or full on octagons.

"it's happening" you whispered back, and every time her lips brushed against yours it reminded you of how real everything was.

"can i touch you?"

"please" you whined, and you felt the saliva gathering and pooling on your bottom lip, mixing with hers.

ellie brushed her forehead against yours. she caressed it up and down, she needed to feel how your skin felt against her's because god knows she's truly spent so much time thinking about it and it didn't feel real, she needed it to feel real, so she begged;

"open your eyes"

you did. they fluttered open as your lashes flickered up and down and she chased you with her eyes again, until they directly met her's.

"tell me how bad you need this"

you gulped harshly, and it made a soft little sound. you felt absolutely limp against her, like you could crush down on the floor at any given moment.

she never thought she'd hear those words, outside of her dreamworld, sound asleep at 4am.

"i need— ellie i need it so bad" you whimpered, and she felt it twitch inside her fucking boxers, but felt it tug at her heart even more. how could have she been so fucking blind?

she opened her mouth, and she almost kept her eyes open whilst she kissed you because she needed to fucking see everything. she needed to see your eyebrows squint and your eyes close shut, your breath hitch and your hand drop from her shoulder, and then go up to grab her shoulder again and squeeze.

ellie, ellie couldn't help it anymore.

she caressed her hand up from the navel of your stomach, slowly grazing her finger up and up and up, till they met your breast and fuck she wanted to ask you if it was okay but the way you moaned inside of her mouth when she gave the cup a little squeeze, signaled her that she could do whatever the hell she wanted because you've always. been. her's.

as her tongue swirled with yours, warm saliva practically running out and streamlining from the corner of her mouth, she grazed her finger on top of your clothed nipple.

she separated her lips from yours, and moved her head back to look at you.

"you know how fucking crazy you drive me?" she pecked your lips forcefully and they made a smacking sound. you smirked, your eyes still glossy from the previous tear that escaped, and she nearly lost her damn mind.

"dont fucking smirk at me like that..." she kissed your jaw, making your entire body clench. "always fucking teasing me" kiss "always making me think..." kiss "i'll never fucking get it" kiss "driving me fucking crazy with those little fucking tops" kiss "those short fucking skirts" kiss

fuck.

"just wanted you to s— see, ellie..."

she tilted her head, and smiled so big and blushed so hard you nearly cried again.

"can i... can i take your shirt off?

you nodded up and down and fervently, like if you didn't show her exactly how bad you needed her she'll never fucking get it. old habits die hard.

she pulled the strap of your tank top off, and it slid down your shoulder. she let out a shaky breath. she's thought of seeing you bare in front of her way too many times than she'd like to admit. she saw the tip of your hard nipples poking out of the material and her breath hitched, borderline on wheezing. she delicately grazed her finger on it, stopping herself from pinching it and twisting and pulling like she always fucking wanted to. she had to go slow, she had to savor this moment.

you couldn't go slow.

you lifted your top off and ditched it on the floor. she was faced with your tits and she nearly damn went cross eyed. holy fucking shit.

"holy fuck" she hissed, her chest heaving up and down. her boxers were entierly drenched by now and she hasn't even touched them, until now.

she grabbed them with her calloused hands and squeezed them together, making them meet and form a natural cleavage. when she exhaled, a soft sound escaped her throat. it sounded like a quiet howl, or a harsh whimper.

"need to fucking taste" she growled, and your panties felt warm inside, and it tingled, that familiar yet completely different feeling washed over your cunt, as soon as her drooling, wet mouth was on your nipples, twisting and swirling her tongue against the sensitive buds, sucking and taking them out of her mouth with plop sounds, and every time she felt you squirm she moaned against them, her mouth fully vibrating on your nipples.

she detached her lips, just to look up at you with a lovedrunk smile adorning her face. she looked absolutely high on your body and you didn't even notice... that you started grinding up against her, bucking your hips inwards and backwards every time her head bobbed up and down on your tits.

"what am i..." she pulled your nipple in her finger, twisting it from side to side, making you nearly scream. you slapped your hand on your mouth, because if you didn’t— you’d fully get a stern note from the other residents tomorrow morning. "going to fucking do with you?"

"i think you know... ellie" you hiccuped.

"say my name again" she groaned, forcefully grabbing your tits now. she shook them up and down, and parted your thighs with her leg.

"ellie..." you whimpered, completely gasping for air.

"again"

"ellie!"

"fuck yes..."

her ongoing imaginations of you whimpering her name had absolutely nothing on the real deal. she picked you up, her hands grasping your thighs, and laid you on the bed. laid, would be a gentle way to say it. she practically tossed you on it, making the mattress jump up and down and creak slightly. she laid her body on top of yours, and her chest felt strong and steady, except for two perky mounds that connected directly with yours.

"please take your shirt off" you pled.

"take it off of me" she hissed, planting another sweet, sweet kiss on your breasts. she was fucking obsessed with them, and she wasn't afraid to show it now. it’s funny, how a only a week ago, she had to contemplate having her eyeballs surgically removed because she couldn’t stop her eyes from darting up and down. she could actually adore them now, and she felt it deep in her lower abdomen.

you tugged at the bottom of her top, hastily attempting to take it off fast because you yearned to see her so bad it almost hurt, but she palmed your hands and stopped you fully.

"nuh uh" she warned.

"slowly..."

you look up at her, doe eyed and begging. your breath caged in your throat, because this is real. it fucking hit you again.

when she saw you look up, it tugged at the strings of her heart.

she kisses you, and it feels like something you've never felt before. it feels warm, and it feels like fucking love. it was as if you became liquid, what was once solid, and hard, melted into a sweet puddle of warm honey.

she wants to take your shorts off already, but she stops herself. she looks you deep in the eyes, and her cheeks bloom red. she's in love.

and she knows you are too.

would it be awfully corny if she told you she wanted to make love to you? it probably would. for some reason, she didn’t need to vocalize it.

now, it was her eyes who turned glassy, making the emerald green glisten and twinkle.

"i need to..." you dont respond, you just do what she needs you to do.

you take your shorts off, and ellie simply stares down, panting, as her heart thuds inside of her chest. the way she looks, like she's absolutely famished, makes your clit pump inside of your panties that it terrifies you if she actually sees.

you shyly cover up, and she smiles gently as she grabs your wrists to peel them off of the soft, now sticky fabric.

"dont be shy..." she whispers, and when she see's the wet patch that formed, that pooled down just where your tight hole is, her face twists and she bites her lips. when she looked up at you, you turned your head to the side.

"look at that..." she chuckles, and it's fucking hypoctirical, the way she's mocking— because she has a spot even bigger on the bottom of her boxers, except she's fucking dressed and youre not.

"need to kiss it..." she desperately says, her voice low and raspy.

"need you to tell me..." she kisses your tummy, softly, as it heaves up and down. "to kiss it..." with every breath that leaves her, she kisses it again, her tongue now poking out of her mouth.

"mm— cant" you whimper. when did you become so shy?

"please" she begs, as her kisses become more wet, leaving little trails and puddles of saliva on your stomach.

"ellie..." you hiccup, feeling as if you could cum just by grinding your crotch back and forth against the air. her words are more than enough.

"say it..." she pleads, and it gets absolutely ridicilous— who's begging who now?

"please kiss— god" she simply palms your cunt, right on your panties, her warmth mixing with yours, and an incredibly loud, high pitched moan, closer to a screech leaves your mouth. the sound makes her groan into your stomach, moving her kisses further and further down. with each kiss, your body grows warmer, a certain tremor adding to your sudden jolts.

when she's face to face with your cunt, directly gazing at the wet spot, she closes her eyes shut, and plants a soft kiss upon the wet material. she's thought about doing this so many times, she has to stop herself from sneaking her hand down her boxers and start grinding up and down on it, and cum simply from just smelling you, as her nose bumps directly on your clit.

she wants to see it bad, those slick beautiful folds she had imagine so many times, the little bud poking on top, but she can't help but notice how greedy and eager you get when she teases you. she can't help but notice those cute little sounds that escape your throat, the way your eyebrows squint together and a small v shaped line forms on your forehead.

she gives a soft, kitten lick over the material, and you completely jump upwards. "ellie! fuck!" you moan, and she swears its the most heavenly sound she's ever heard. "that's it... grind yourself up against me... just like that"

you grind against her eager mouth, her tongue making the fabric transform into almost full sheerness, clinging and sticking to your cunt, every time ellie drools on it a little more.

"fuck m'gonna!— cum... ellie!" you hiccup and wheeze, and she can't help but pull your hips, move you closer to her mouth, as your thighs completely close and clench around her neck. but she doesn't fucking care.

she's going to make you cum all over your fucking panties.

she needs it. she yearns for it.

she bumps her tongue harder and flattens it against your clit, grinding you down, completely controlled by the very movements of her hands, guiding your through it and forcing you to keep moving against her.

it's closer, and closer, the white pleasure taking over your entire body, and you start shaking against her—

"cum for me... that's it" she whimpers, "cum hard all over my— fuck, my fucking face"

you barely even have time to recover, still completely sensitive, your entire body shaking when she takes off your panties, sniffs them shamelessly, and shoves them in her pocket.

"what are you d— doing?" you hiccup.

"dont worry about it" she mutters, and her entire face flushes red.

you dont, so instead, you beg for her to let you come again. she doesn’t, for now, and it was pure evil.

ellie's jaw clenches when she's face to face with your weeping pussy. her breath caged in her throat, and she lets out a high pitched, animalistic moan, followed by an adorable twist to her face. she's imagined it too many fucking times.

she'd tell you, but she's afraid to come off as pathetic.

slowly, agonizingly slow, with the intention to savor this moment, she places a soft, sweet little kiss on your cunt. you jump, and call out her name. she places another one, and another one, right on your achy clit. before she indulges herself in the first taste, she looks up at you.

"you're so beautiful" she whispers. and you know how bad she means it, because it comes out shaky, and you can taste how sweet those words are and really they’re just words.

you nearly die.

"and so fucking wet"

you nearly cum.

"mmph— ellie, please" you breathe. "pleasepleaseplease"

she doesn't need to hear any more of it, before her tongue laps up the sweet nectar of your pussy, starting with your hole, collecting the juice with the bottom of her tongue, curling it, and swallowing. "taste so fucking good"... she mutters. "knew you would"

she truly, truly did.

ellie slowly begins circling your clit with her tongue, in soft, little motions that focus right on your aching bud. one of her hands is squeezing your thigh, as the other creeps up slowly to grab your breast and toy with the nipple. its so fucking soft inside of her mouth that she can't help but grind herself down on the bed, the cream that formed inside of her boxers making it easy to slide backwards and inwards, and she releases sweet, desperate moans inside of your pussy every time it hits her clit.

when ellie feels you clench your hole in and out, she spreads your pussy lips apart, spits a big glob of saliva on top of your clit, making it slide all the way down to your hole.

"need to fill you up, fuck" she growls, and before you know it, her tongue is on you again, and her finger is teasing and begging your hole to let her in.

"baby" she coos, "let go for me"

"c— cant!" you cry out. its all too much, and you feel so embarrassed that you won't stop clenching, till she looks up at you again.

"breathe... it's okay" she whispers, "i'll be gentle, i fucking promise"

when you breathe in for her, she grits her teeth. fucking finally. she slides her finger inside, so slow you regret ever making her think you'd want it gentle, so you grind up on it, bringing your body forward so it swallows her finger whole.

"god damn" she hisses, and her voice is higher pitched because she can't fucking believe it.

she wants to whore you the fuck out, but she needs to be gentle for now. she considers… for just a mere second, to sprint to her room, grab her strap and split you whole, but she stops herself. she genuinely needs to grab her fucking knee so she doesn’t move away and lose control entirely.

she pumps it inside, lost in the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing her in, over and over again, lapping up on your clit, and when she feels you clench again, coming closer and closer to the edge, she adds a second finger.

"so fucking tight... you're so fucking tight" she says, and pushes your thighs up to your chest, your entire body shaking against her. you whimper and squeak and cry, babbling incoherently while she's scissoring them inside of you, grunting deep inside of your pussy every time your moans grow louder and louder.

the mattress seems to bump on her clit harder now, and ellie completely stops.

she hastily pulls her pants down, alongside with her boxers, and before you even have time to react to the sight of her cunt or her thighs or the abs that you're now exposed to (you honest to god, have no idea when she even managed to take her shirt off), she pulls your thigh high up, and places your leg on her shoulder.

"you're gonna cum on me— you hear that?" she hisses, when her weeping pussy meets yours. "yes ellie!" you hiccup, "louder"

"mmm—ellie— can'— need to cum on you"

"you wanna fucking cum on me?" she babbles back, and it comes out so messy and pussydrunk that she doesn't even reply back when you cry out with your forehead against her shoulder, biting on it hard, too intoxicated by your little moans and the feeling of your weeping, sticky pussy against hers, bumping her clit and it almost fucking burns inside of her.

she separates your legs further apart, and her gaze burns through you. her eyes are still green, and its still fucking ellie— but they turn a shade darker. she grinds against you forcefully, making your clit bump on her’s, your love-fluids mixing together and creating the most absolutely obscene noises that little dorm room has ever heard. when you close your eyes, because it’s all too much and she’s grunting and whimpering against you, she takes your cheeks in her hands and squeezes.

“look at me. look at me” she begs, and you keep blurting out tiny little squeals of pleasure that she cant help but let out a breathy laugh, and she wants to slap you and hear you squirm even harder but fuck— she’s gonna cum and she can’t even make her hands fucking work, so she just grabs your tits together as she grinds harder and harder, her ass jiggling up and down as she takes you.

“you’re so fucking— goddamn— so fucking cute you’re so fucking pretty”

"m'gonna cum!" you blabber, you brain entirely empty, only filled with the image of ellie's mouth hung completely open, letting out a beautiful symphony of moans, screaming and grunting your name and begging you to fucking take her, and when the tears stream down your face she can't help but wonder... how needy you'd look with her strap buried deep and when the thought hits her— when she imagined the way your hole would take her right inside, the way it would gape after she'd take it out, makes her cum so hard against your pussy that she almost, almost passes out.

when you cum, a second after she does, you tell her that you love her.

when she hears it, a small whimper escapes her lips, and it sounds almost like a sob.

"ive always fucking loved you"

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #the last of us #wlw #lesbian #fanfiction

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carmenized-onions · 16 days

Text

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said�� Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

“Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

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#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fx

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eyesxxyou · 9 months

Note

Not anon since I actually wanna see this in my notifications if you do this requestlmao:

HOBIE WITH A VIRGIN READER, But:

Plot twist, reader is vulgar, she wears semi-skimpy clothing, always making stupid (yet creative) sex jokes like ‘that’s what she said’ etc, Make-out champ and stuff but in reality she just does whatever and it works for Hobie when it was a wild guess. Like- sexually experienced she definitely isn’t yet always acts confident

Knocking out 2 requests in one

{★} .. hobie brown x black!plus size!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.3k

synopsis. hobie never expected you to be a virgin and he's totally okay with that but you are not.

you and hobie mutually masterbate

🍓・．warnings❕no p in v sex, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex not advised, clothed sex, fingering, praise, cum on pussy, pussy job, Hobie as a dick piercing, mentions of religion and blasphemy, aftercare

If you had told Hobie you of all people were a virgin before the two of you had started dating, he would have thought you were pulling his leg. You? You in your skimpy clothes that deliciously left nothing to the imagination? You and the well-developed curves you loved to show off? You and your teasing innuendos? No way in hell you were a virgin, but alas, here you were after making out with him for the past 10 minutes, stalling really because you— in a crop top so small he could see the beginnings of your full breasts and low-rise jeans that showed off your waist beads partially hidden under the pudge of your stomach— had no idea what the hell to do beyond that.

Not that Hobie believed in the concept of “virginity”. He simply believed that people either have had sex before or they haven’t and either way, one does not make the more pure or better than the other. But still, you never had sex? With the confidence you had in your body— confidence well deserved— he assumed that you had left a long line of broken hearts in your sexy stride.

“Well, is this sometin’ you wanna do? I don’ want you to feel like you gotta do anytin’ wit’ me.” Communication was important in moments like these. If he was going to be your first sexual experience, he wanted to make a good impression, didn’t want to leave you scarred and traumatized.

You signed a little, your confident demeanor melting away just a little while you spoke. “I just don’t think I’m ready to go all the way, ya know? I’m sorry if you wanted mor—”

“Don’t be sorry, luv. Never be sorry ova tha’. We don’t gotta do anytin’,” Hobie assured you with a slight caress to your thick thigh the size of his literal head. There was something almost commercial about the difference in your sizes and body types. No one would expect someone so tall and lanky to be with a person so short and chubby but anyone who dared to comment on it could expect get their head bashed in by Hobie’s guitar.

“NO, no, I want to do something, just not that yet. I’m still a little…unsure about it but you think we can try something else?” You asked, hopeful that he’d be down for something a little more unconventional, but you knew Hobie preferred unconventional to anything else. “Of course, wha’cha thinkin’?” He siddled up next to you, his lips caressing the round of your cheek while his hand grasped the fat of your ass. All of this, so much of your to love and worship. He wanted to leave a mark on every piece of flesh he could get his hands on, lavish over every part no revealed to the world, parts few and far between but all the more sacred because of it.

You gently scratched at the nape of his neck while his hands roamed tenderly across you body, careful not to make you uncomfortable and fully prepared to pull away at any sign that you weren’t feeling it anymore. “Let's masturbate in front of each other.”

“You’ve been tinkin’ ‘bout this fo a while, then?” It came too fast from your lips to be anything you thought of on the spot. You slapped him on the shoulder but did not deny his claim because you have. It would be a lie to say you haven’t been thinking of him sitting in one of his many bean bag chairs with his legs spread apart, his hand stroking the length of his cock while he watched you use your fingers to stretch out your unused pussy. You thought about what he’d look like when he came. What the consistency of his cum looked like, what it tasted like. Did he shudder when he came, did he whine a little, did he moan and groan, you needed to know.

“Please Hobie, I really wanna try it.” You pulled back to give him your infamous puppy eyes, hoping that might be what convinces him. If only you knew he’d do absolutely anything you asked him to because his worship of you bordered on the lines of blasphemy. “Of course, luv.”

WIth one last kiss, the two of you parted completely, Hobie getting up to go sit on a chair across from his bed where he left you. A bit anxious, you began to fumble with the button to your your spared jeans in a some rush to get them off like you were going to miss some deadline.

“Come’ere.” Hobie motioned you over with his fingers and without a second to hesitate, you obeyed, walking over to him with a wrinkle in your jeans at your embarrassing attempt to get them off. He reached up, his eyes locking in with yours while his long, slender fingers skillfully doing what your chubby, stout ones could not. His hands traced the curve of your hip as he placed a soft kiss against the pudge of your belly. “Take’em off slow fa me. Gimme a show, luv.” WIth that, he removed his hands from your body and leaned back in the chair to enjoy the performance he prompted you to put on.

Pretending to be sexy was something you absolutely could do. You stepped back a bit, trailing your hands up and down the length of your torso to caress the curves of your body. Hobie let out something of a sigh as you slipped your thumbs into the waist of your pants and the band of your thong to pull them down simultaneously.

You turned around to face away from him, working your pants down your hips and your legs in a seductive manner before taking them all the way to the floor and flashing just a peek of that little pussy of yours at him as you stepped out of your clothes and kicked them to the side. And by the time you turned back around, Hobie already had his cock out, half-hard in his hand as he stroked his twitching length.

It was pretty, long, veiny, chocolate brown in color with a slightly lighter tip leaking dribbles of precum over his knuckles. He had a piercing through the head of it, a Prince Albert. You wanted to kiss it, have it in your mouth, slave over it, suck it like it was your favorite flavor of lolli. Anything Hobie-flavored was your favorite.

You moved back, maintaining eye contact with your boyfriend as the back of your knees his the edge of the bed and you fell onto it, now making eye contact with the thick monster he had between his legs. The sight of it made your pussy quiver at the thought of it being closer, being inside of you one day, fucking the daylights out of you.

"Go ahead, spread those legs fa me, baby. I wanna see tha' pretty pussy of ya's." Hobie sighed out, his cock now to its full length. If he were to let it go, it would rest well to his belly button. He stoked a little harder, anticipating the sight of your cunt on display for him to enjoy and him alone. There was an odd sort of perverted satisfaction he got knowing that you’d never had a sexual experience with anyone else other than him. No one in the entire world got to see this beautiful sight as your propped your feet up on the bed and spread them to reveal your sacred little hole, glistening and wet with arousal leaking out of it.

You used one hand to place behind you so you could hold yourself up while the other was used to rub your fingers in the mess your pussy made of itself, spreading the slick to your clit where you put most of your focus. Hobie hummed from across the room, a soft, wet fapping sound emanating from him as he fucked his hand a little harder, using his precum as lube to slick his path while he pretended it was in fact your sticky juices coating his cock.

You bit your bottom lip, watching with hooded eyes the way he fucked his own hand like he wanted to fuck you, nice and evenly paced but ultimately desperate for release. In some feeble attempt to imitate what his length might feel like stirring up your guts, you slipped a finger into your inexperienced hole, that being the most you could ever manage to fit. But it left you severely disappointed as you knew one of your tiny fingers could never even imagine imitating the length and girth of that pretty cock of his.

You thumb at your clit to the pace that his hand rubbed his cock, his own thumb stroking his sensitive head each time it got the chance to. “Hobie~” You whined for him as your head fell back and your eyes closed, the pleasure of it all so overwhelming. But Hobie snapped at you between breathless groans. “Keep ya eyes on me, baby. I wanna see ya eyes.” So you opened them and looked at him, his hand fucking himself even harder now, his hips bucking uncontrollably from pleasure.

You could only imagine what the sight for him looked like, a finger in your pussy with your thumb on your clit, fingers wet down to the knuckle, lips wet from your tongue. Open and desperate for him as your back arched and your pussy trembled. “Please–” You begged of him. “I want your cum on my cunt. Please…Hobie.” You didn’t just want it, you needed it. You needed to feel the essence of him coating your pussy you wanted your fingers to play in in, to slip your messy fingers into your mouth and taste him.

“You wan’ me to cum on ya pussy, dirty girl?” Hobie began to sit up, ready to give you just what you asked for. You whimpered, nodding in desperation, watching him make his way over and push you back onto the bed. He pulled your hand away from your core and tapped the tip of his weeping cock against your clit, letting out a few wet smacks at the contact before he grabbed the thickest part of your thighs and forced them up to your chest. “‘m gonna give ya jus’ what’cha wan’.” His voice was dark, feral. His piercing glistened with precum as he stroked his cock between your swollen, wet pussy lips.

Everytime he pulled back, his tip positioned itself right at your entrance, always threatening to push itself inside and give you all you were looking for. But it never did. It just stroked yoru hole a bit before gliding over it, his cock rubbing your pussy and clit until you were crying out his name like it was the only thing you could remember to say.

Each stroke of his cock left you more sensitive than the last, each rub of your clit sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. An orgasm just on the horizon threatened to crash over you and destroy you much like a tsunami. It built itself in the pit of your stomach, your legs trembling and flexing in an attempt to close themselves and cast him out to avoid the unfamiliar feeling but Hobie forced them open without a care. “Open, keep’em open fa me.”

“Hobie, please, I can’t!”

“Yes you can, luv. I’m almost there.” He thrust against your pussy so hard his balls began to slap against your ass. “You wan’ my cum on ya pussy, righ’? You wan’ me to defile you, make ya all dirty fo me?” You nodded vigorously. You wanted that more than anything else in the world right now.

“Then take this dick.” Something about those words sent you over the edge. The tsunami crashed over you and seized your body like a demon. Your back arched off of the bed, muscles spasming and thrashing with an orgasm of an intensity you’ve never felt before. “Hobie!” You cried out his name, pussy spasming as you came. Hobie kept stroking, kept fucking, kept pleasing despite your calls, his breathy moans all you can hear as he nears his own orgasm.

And when it comes, so does he. His hips still and his cock twitches as he releases all over the face of your cunt. He coats your clit, your lips, your hole and paints them in milky white before spreading it about with his cock. “Goood girl.” He cooed at you in praise, slapping his cock in the mess he’s made of you. He claimed you as his, his for life. He owned this pretty pussy. It belonged to him. “Why does this pussy belong to?”

“You, Hobie, you.” You whimpered as he slapped his dick a little more against your pussy, sending jolts of overstimulating pleasure through your body until your toes curled.

“Tha’s righ’, don’ forget i’.” He bent over between your legs and kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his hand grabbed a fistful of your breasts. His cock was soft now, but it if kept stroking against your pussy, it would quickly be otherwise so he better stop while he’s ahead. “You did so good, luv. So good to me, so good fa me.” He bit your bottom lip as you hummed breathlessly into his mouth. “Lemme get you cleaned up.”

Hobie stood up and tucked himself away before going to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. You heard the water running for a little, some shuffling in the bathroom before Hobie came back with the washcloth damp. He parted your legs a little more and used the cloth to watch you, apologizing with a soft kiss to your knee and you jolted and whined when he went over your clit. And once he’s done he tosses the cloth into the dirty clothes and climbs into bed with you to hold you, whispering soft praises into you ear so you don’t feel used or taken advantage of.

“I love you.” He whispered as you were just on the cusp of slumber and took no offense when you snored softly as a response.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobie brown #atsv #spiderman #hobie brown fic #hobie brown smut #spider punk #hobie brown x black!reader #hobie broen x plus size!reader

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megantheestallion-ismypresident · 2 months

Text

2AM

Duke dennis x black!reader

Summary: y/n being a streamer and being a part of a amp like her boyfriend duke, until in her stream she tries to do a cartwheel but her boyfriends pop up and starts laughing at her failed attempt, which became roasting to affectionate love.

You've been a part of amp for quite some time now. When you were younger, you always wanted to be a social media star, but people alas told you that your not gonna make it, but that didn't stop you from where you are today until you met kai, fanum, agent, Chris, duke, and Daviss and together you guys became one of the most popular YouTube group. And you love all of them like they were your own family.

Yeah, being the only girl in the group is kinda hard because there's niggas on the internet trolling, but you didn't give a fuck before they accepted you anyway, the more you got comfortable will all of them the more you loved all of them. You have a crush on Duke. You both were pretty close, and y'all both became best friends, and everyone in the group thought y'all was dating even if your fans thought y'all was dating, but it wasn't true.

You hide your feelings because you thought Duke would reject you or didn't like you until he made the first move and your relationship started from there. Y'all both were lucky to have each other, y'all would both come to each other streams, pranks, and all of that other stuff.

Your love language with him is roasting. People make it seem like y'all mean, but it ain't true both you just be joking with each other.

You were streaming playing a horror game, you was tired as fuck, but you wanted to finish playing the game.

"Bruh, chat, I'm not gonna lie. I'm tired as fuck I've been playing this game for and hour, I've been trying to stay awake for y'all." Y/n said tiredly as she picked up her water drinking it as she looked at the chat.

"Bro, somebody in the chat told me to do a cartwheel to stay awake." Y/n laughed as she pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Yo chat, I ain't gonna lowkey don't know how to do a cartwheel, like I'm being so deadass, I'm not an athletic person, hold imma try for you guys." Y/n stands up as she pushes her chair farther away so she can have some room.

"Bro, I'm scared. What if I bust my ass!!" Y/n yelled as she looked back at the chat. Y/n raised both her hands as she placed both of them on the ground, trying to kick her legs up, but ended up falling on the ground.

"Shit, hold on chat. Let me try again, damn this shit is harder than I thought." Y/n got herself up as she tried to do another cartwheel. Y/n puts both her hands on the ground. As she tried to kick her legs up, she heard her door open.

"Aye, bae do you got my charg-" Duke was about to finish his sentence as he saw you trying to cartwheel he started busting out laughing, making you laugh as you got up.

"It's not funny, nigga. I'm trying to do a cartwheel. " y/n laughed, feeling embarrassed as Duke started laughing.

"Nah, that gotta be one of the worst cartwheels I've seen bruh you don't know how to do a cartwheel?" Duke said, still laughing, making fun of you.

"Shut the fuck up, nigga can you do a cartwheel?" Y/n said asking him as she was huffing and puffing form those failed attempt cartwheel.

"Yes, way much better than that, bro. Imagine not lifting yourself up." Duke said, laughing at you.

"Nigga, I know you talking you pushing 40 and you was in the back of the bus with rosa parks, with yo old ass." Y/n commented as she started laughing as the people in the chat start making fun of Duke going crazy.

"Oh, so that's how you gonna do me, for real." Duke said, smiling in disbelief as you roasted him.

"Yes, imma do you like, ayo chat spam 1987 in the chat, that's the year you was born at with you old ass." Y/n started laughing as everyone in the chart started spamming 1987 in the chat.

"Yeah, I got you on mute. You were serving in ww2 with yo old ass. " You still kept roasting as you both were facing each other as Duke started smiling at the smile that you melt.

Duke wasn't listening to anything you were saying while you were still roasting him. He was looking at your lips as he grabbed your waist and started kissing you. You were caught off guard by this, but you kissed him back. You broke this kiss as he looked back at you. "You so gorgeous, bae." Duke smiled at you as was still holding you close, as he was still holding your waist. "Aww, thank you, bae. I would say something nice about you, but you were making fun of me." Y/n teased.

"Damn, that's fair, I love you y/n" Duke said, genuinely looking at you with so much love in his eyes.

"I love you too," y/n responded as she kissed him on the lips. As Duke lifted your legs up, carrying you as laughed, he was yours, and you were his.

#duke dennis #duke dennis x reader #duke dennis x fem!reader #duke dennis x black!reader #Spotify

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zepskies · 10 months

Text

Love Actually - Part 2

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: You and Ben steel yourselves in order to meet your crazy family for Christmas dinner.

AN: Here’s the requested Part 2! It got too long, so I had to break it up lol. There will be a Part 3 after this (final part). I also tried really hard to find an image/gif that would match this chapter better, but alas, there are only so many pictures of this scruffy guy. (And none in a real suit. 😂)

Read Part 1

Remember, this story is set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Word Count: 4,800 Tags/Warnings: Tense situations, bit of angst, lots of sexy fluff

Part 2: "Season’s Greetings"

Ben checked his watch again.

He’d lost count of how many times, how many minutes, how long he’d been waiting for you to come down the goddamn stairs so he could get this night over with.

You’d been getting ready for this dinner with your family for four hours. How long did it take you to slap on some makeup and throw on a dress?

Finally, he heaved a sigh and got up from the couch, adjusting the watch on his wrist. He stayed by the foot of the stairs and called up to you.

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—”

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze.

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke.

You had a black suede clutch tucked in your other hand, but Ben was drawn to the bright red of your dress. The color alone appealed to him. It called back a memory of a musty club, rich whiskey, and the dulcet tones of your voice.

But now, this dress was shorter. It also hugged your every curve and stopped just a few inches above the knee. He noticed a tantalizing little slit in the back, at the hem, leading his eyes down your sheer pantyhose and down to the tall, black heels.

His lips formed a teasing smile. “You sure you can walk in those?”

But you could see the truth in his eyes; he liked what he saw. They raked back up your body, taking in the short sleeves, the slight plunge of the neckline, the red lipstick as bright as your dress, the soft sweep of eyeliner and dark lashes—and you hoped he noticed the way you’d painstakingly done your hair into soft, ‘40s style waves.

“Do I look shaky to you?” you countered.

Ben tilted his head slightly as he stared up at you. “Not one bit.”

He reached out for you on the last step of the stairs. You took his hand and gave him a grateful look, but your hand didn’t stop there. It grazed up the sleeve of his suit jacket as you took him in with a smile.

Not often one to don a simple black suit, Ben went with a charcoal gray against a crisp black undershirt. No tie though, leaving the first couple of buttons casually open.

“Look at my man, all sharp and modern and sexy as hell,” you purred. He accepted the praise with a pleased quirk of his lips.

Normally you wouldn’t try to feed his peacock-level pride too much. He knew he was a damn fine-looking man. However, you also knew he wasn’t totally into meeting the rest of your family tonight. You knew you needed to give him a (well earned) ego boost.

“Gotta match my girl,” said Ben. Though he fingered the ends of your softly curled hair with a more genuine glint to his smile. “Though you’ve gone a bit vintage.”

“Compromise.” You grinned, and you leaned up for a soft kiss.

He met you there, even pressing his luck when his tongue begged entrance against your lips. You held his cheek and brushed your thumb there tenderly, but you soon broke away.

“We’ve got somewhere to be,” you reminded him. Ben sighed through his nose, though his hands molded to your waist.

“I didn’t realize you were that kinky,” he said. His voice was deep and suggestive. Your face started to heat up, even as your brows knitted with confusion.

“What?” you asked.

“I know you’re not gonna make me wait all night to get a taste of this,” he said. And he leaned down to begin plying you with his heavy hands and his lips along your neck. “I gotta assume you want me to fuck you in your mom’s house.”

You uttered a shocked laugh. You batted his shoulder, even though it didn’t even make him blink. His lips curved as they grazed your neck. He inhaled under your ear, making a pleasant shudder run down your spine. He hummed in approval.

“Is that the perfume I got you?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “I like it a lot. Makes me feel all warm and spicy.”

Ben chuckled into your neck. He did pull back eventually to thumb around the edge of one of your earrings—the second part of his Christmas gift to you. The white stone and silver filigree shone in the light.

“They look good,” he remarked, giving you a charming smile. “Better on you than the catalogue girl.”

Now that was an image. Soldier Boy: browsing through a magazine of women’s jewelry. You smiled brightly at him.

“Thank you, baby,” you replied. “They really are beautiful.”

Then you glanced down to find your gift to him on his wrist: a new silver Rolex. You turned his hand over to make sure that it fit him right.

“Not too tight, right? Not too loose.” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s good.”

“Just good? Does it still need adjusting? We can go back to the store and have them fix it—”

“It’s perfect, sweetheart. Stop fussing,” he said. Your lips pursed as you looked up at him from the watch.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy with it, that’s all,” you said.

“I am,” he replied. But his smile, the hidden glint of something in his eyes, made you blush. Inside, you were warm and pleased.

“All right, let’s go then,” you said. “I’ve got the rum cake, and the actual rum ready to go in the kitchen. And the presents are lined up by the door. Can you load those up in the car for me while I get the food?”

Ben obliged you, though he soon balked at the army of presents waiting for him by the door. When did you have time to get all of these? He didn’t remember you buying all this shit.

Though he realized, this must’ve been how you filled your time after work, while he was gone for the past two weeks on that mission.

As he loaded the gifts into the car, Ben reluctantly remembered that it had been…strange, to be away from you. For the past few months, you two had fallen into a rhythm. Waking up to each other, busy morning routines before work, sharing your evenings afterwards.

You had also been making it your mission to find new things to do together. Like paintballing, of all things. Or comedy shows, new movies and restaurants, concerts, club nights with your friends. Though it was weird for him, sometimes, to go to a show without all the celebrity fanfare he used to get as Soldier Boy.

Well, he was still Soldier Boy. He just wasn’t getting paid anywhere near the same as he used to. (But let’s face it, he didn’t need the damn money. He’d earned plenty in 40 years of fame and family inheritance.)

People still knew his name, still worshiped him at times, but it wasn’t the same. He wasn’t part of Vought’s machine anymore. No one really told him what to do, but if he wanted this life—here, in upstate New York—he was forced to make efforts to color within the lines of the law (mostly). Hell, he actually worked for a living. Even if it was for the government.

The point was, he was part of something. And it wasn’t totally shit, even if he was surrounded by morons on a daily basis…

By the time you opened the passenger side door to interrupt his musings, Ben remembered to actually start the car.

“You okay?” you asked as you clicked in your seatbelt. You were keeping a close eye on him tonight, trying to gauge his shifting moods.

Ben hesitated, but when he glanced over at you, he reached over and thumbed at your chin, under those ruby red lips. It made you smile.

“Yeah,” he replied. Though he let out a subtle breath as he faced the road and took the wheel of the car. Ever perceptive though, you sent him an assessing look.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” you asked. His brows furrowed slightly.

“Why would I be?” he asked, his voice a bit sharp. Defensive, you interpreted.

Instead of answering, you leaned over and laid a hand on his thigh.

“Look, my mom already likes you. Louisa’s going to come around,” you said. Your mouth edged into a smile, of sorts. “I just need you to stop me from killing my aunt with a ladle.”

Ben snorted in response. “All right.”

When the two of you arrived at your mother’s house, she opened the door to her home and greeted your boyfriend like a long-lost son.

“Oh, Ben! Come in, please,” she beckoned, grabbing his arm and guiding him inside. “You look so handsome, my goodness!”

Ben couldn’t help offering a smile. It was infused with his usual charm.

“Marie,” he greeted with a nod. You shook your head, despite your own smile. Ben liked attention—along with a bit of praise and fanfare went without saying. And you knew your mom wouldn’t be the only one to play into that tonight.

“Hi, Mom,” you said pointedly, with a hand on your hip. Marie turned to you with a bright smile.

“Oh! Honey, there you are. Merry Christmas!” She brought you in and hugged you tight. She then fairly gushed as she took in your dress and touched your hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. I wish you’d come earlier though. I need you to help me and Trina. Come on.”

Marie glanced up at Ben again. “Oh, you too, hun! We can introduce you to everyone.”

Ben nodded. He followed your lead behind your mother, and you inwardly steeled yourself on the way to the kitchen. The familiar smells awaiting you brought you back to the better parts of your childhood. Ones that were filled with music, laughs, and good food.

And if there was one redeeming quality about your Aunt Trina, it was that she could cook her ass off. Since your mom had always been more of the “boxed meal” variety cook, Trina always took over at Thanksgiving and Christmas, and just about every other family gathering.

She was putting the ham in the oven while your sister sat at the kitchen table with your Grandpa George, peeling potatoes. The bigger table in the dining room was currently set up with appetizers and wine.

But the sounds of chatter and pots and pans and cabinets closing—it all stopped when you and Ben entered the kitchen. You felt his hand at the small of your back, and whether he meant it to or not, that familiar touch stabilized you.

Even Trina stopped giving Louisa directions on how to correctly peel and cut the potatoes for boiling. Her mouth opened when she took in the sight of Ben, from head to toe.

“Good evening,” he said, if only to break the silence.

But you knew the rest was up to you. You curled a hand around his solid arm and gave him a smile, before looking to your family.

“Hey, guys. Merry Christmas!” you greeted. “This is my boyfriend, Ben.”

Trina squealed in excitement. She came over (with a wooden spoon in hand) to give you an enthusiastic hug and kiss. She held your arms and looked between you and Ben.

“Your mom said you were dating a superhero, but I had no idea…” she twittered. “I mean…it’s Soldier Boy. He’s in my kitchen!”

“It’s Mom’s kitchen, actually,” you muttered. Trina’s excitement dimmed slightly as she rolled her eyes at you.

“Ever the smart mouth,” she said, playfully whacking you in the ass with her spoon.

Ben smirked. He certainly agreed with your aunt’s assessment. He turned to her to offer something in greeting, but before he could, Louisa’s voice cut in from across the room.

“What should we call you? Ben, or Soldier Boy?” she asked dryly.

You frowned, gave your sister a look. Meanwhile, Ben didn’t quite make it to a smile, but he was civil when he answered her.

“Ben’s fine.”

You remained in the kitchen to help out, while Ben migrated to the living room with your grandfather. Ben grabbed a large glass of wine on his way there, along with a few mini quiche to tide him over until dinner.

He then noticed an old woman sleeping on the leather recliner.

“Who’s that?” he asked George.

“Oh, that’s Great Aunt Sylvia,” George said. “She just took an oxy for her hip. She’ll be passed out ‘til dinner.”

Ben blinked at the casual mention of oxycodone, but he wouldn’t mind a few of what Sylvia was having. Oxy gave him such a nice buzz.

But instead, he and George sat on opposite ends of the couch while Sylvia snored away.

For a moment, it was quiet, save for the soft crooning of Nat King Cole playing (and Sylvia). The music came from a small round speaker on the coffee table, Ben noticed. You’d told him about Alexa and Siri and all those techno bitches out there now, controlling people’s houses. He didn’t trust it.

“You like baseball?” George asked as he turned on the TV. Ben nodded, and the other man put on a game. Mets versus the Cubs, three to one. The men were silent for a while as they watched the game.

Unfortunately for Ben, that peace couldn’t last.

“So,” George started. “You’re a supe, huh?”

Ben inclined his head, sipping at his wine. This was what he fucking hated. Small talk.

“I remember you,” George said. “My wife and I liked that movie you made…King of Kings. With Charlton Heston. What a classic that guy was.”

Ben smiled. “He was a good time. Drank like a fucking fish.”

George raised a brow. “Did he? Well, we all need a glass every now and then.”

Ben nodded, taking a pointed sip of his wine.

“Heston. One of the few celebrities I gave a shit about when he died,” George said with a shake of his head. “Wasn’t long before my wife’s passing.”

You’d told Ben a lot about your grandmother. When your parents got divorced, she’d insisted that you, your mom, and your sister live with her and George. She didn’t want to take any chances with your dad, who’d been more than unstable at the time in his drinking.

Ben didn’t often pray. But he drank then with a silent toast, that good ole’ Jon was getting hot coals up the ass right about now. In hell.

Ben then considered your grandfather’s musings, realizing he hadn’t thought about his old pal Heston in a long time.

“How’d he die?” Ben asked. George glanced over at him.

“Well, official case was pneumonia. But it wasn’t all that clear,” he said. “However, I think he had a flare up.”

“Of what?” Ben asked.

George gave him a wry look. “The fate that all men fear. Ass cancer.”

Ben raised a brow, his mouth twitching. He had a feeling he knew where your sense of humor came from.

“You probably don’t have to worry about that,” George waved a dismissive hand. “You’re still young. Well, sort of…I mean, being superhuman and all that. I’m sure that comes in handy with the normal stuff, like the sniffles and whatnot…and hey! At least you won’t have to worry about your asshole fallin’ out.”

Ben actually smiled. Now he knew you were related to this man.

In the kitchen, you were trying and failing to dodge a game of “Twenty Questions” with your aunt, while you and your sister finished cutting potatoes. All of the questions were predictably centered around Ben. Luckily, you had a plate of mini quiche, cheese, and salami between you and Louisa to keep you pacified.

“Well, you’ve done well for yourself, I’ll give you that,” Trina said. “But why on God’s green Earth didn’t you tell us you were dating Soldier Boy? How the hell did you even meet him?”

Shit. There was more than one reason you hadn’t told the rest of your family yet, and this was partly it. How the hell were you supposed to explain this?

Louisa shot you a knowing look, along with a raised brow.

“Well, I was actually assigned to find him after he…went missing last year,” you said, keeping things purposefully vague. “We met and…things just kind of took off from there.”

Your mom and your sister didn’t even know all the details, but they knew this much. After Soldier Boy used his nuclear power to end Homelander, he’d escaped in the aftermath.

You’d been working a year in Surveillance at Supe Affairs, but you’d been a private investigator by trade, previously working at your father’s firm. You’d even worked at Vought for a few years, before joining the S.A.

You were then recruited by Grace Mallory to track down Soldier Boy, along with Butcher and his team.

…And that’s where things got complicated.

“But isn’t Soldier Boy the one who killed Homelander?” Trina asked. She stopped in her stirring of the cranberry sauce to look back at you. And you met her stare directly.

“Yes. He was partnered with the CIA on that.” Sort of. You added, “Homelander wasn’t the hero you all thought you knew, remember? He was a raging psychopath.”

Trina huffed at that.

“So was your father. And you still worked with him for years,” she remarked, even off-handedly as she went back to stirring.

Your entire body stilled. Inside, your temper was a lit fuse, preparing to ignite. You stuffed a mini quiche into your mouth to stop you from exploding.

And your mom and your sister recognized the danger. Louisa frowned tightly and touched your arm.

She had been too young to form a true relationship with your father by the time your parents were divorced, and your grandparents (and later you) hadn’t allowed Jon to interfere too much with Louisa's life. So Jon’s death, a mere seven months ago, hadn’t truly affected her as deeply as it had you.

And that in itself was complicated.

Marie paused in preparing the sweet potato casserole to give her sister a warning look.

“Trina, that’s not fair,” said Marie.

Your aunt shrugged. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slowly, you stood. You grabbed a hand towel and brushed the velvety remains of potato skin from your hands. You also took the plate of cheese cubes and salami with you.

“Honey, she just means—”

“I know what she meant, Mom,” you said. Your mother wasn’t confrontational. She would never tell her sister to shut the fuck up when she was being out of pocket.

But you had no problem doing so. You walked over to Trina, who saw the look in your eye and actually relented, realizing that there was, in fact, a line, and she had crossed it.

“Look, I’d like us to continue having a nice evening,” you told her. “Mention my father again, and it won’t be.”

After a moment, Trina nodded.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Don’t mind me,” she said. But then, she smiled. “I’m really happy for you, sweetheart. You’ve got a superhero! Who knew you’d pull that one off, huh?”

Your flat smile remained. “Oh, yeah? How do you mean?”

Trina faltered. Apparently, she hadn’t expected that.

“Oh. Well, you know…”

“No. I really don’t. Can you clarify for me?” you asked, using the same even tone you employed with testy co-workers on the Surveillance team.

Trina sighed. “Oh, honey. You’re a beautiful girl, but…”

“What?” you challenged. “Just say it.”

Behind Trina’s coil of dark hair piled on her head, Marie looked worried. Louisa was also on tenterhooks, gripping the kitchen table. She slowly got to her feet though, in case she needed to intervene.

“Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything,” Trina said. She gestured to you, after grabbing a cheese cube off your plate. “But your hips, hun. I mean, I enjoy a snack. A bon bon. A chocolate eclair. The occasional croissant, but the weight don’t come off easier as you get older, does it?”

You were officially burning like a tea kettle.

“And with a man like that…” Trina fanned herself with the discarded, empty bag of cranberries. “Mother of God. He’s gotta be beating ‘em off with a fucking stick.”

Your mom pursed her lips at the salty language, giving Trina a sharp glance (for multiple reasons).

Trina noticed, but she only popped another piece of salami into her mouth. “Sorry, hun.”

But then she turned back to you.

“And have you talked about kids yet? That’ll be some serious weight gain.”

You let out a sharp breath and raised your gaze heavenward, pleading for mercy.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered.

“I’m just sayin’!” she said. “He might have forever, but you certainly don’t.”

Now that one struck a nerve. Perhaps not the one she intended, but it cut deeply into you all the same. You and Ben had agreed to pin that conversation for now, but the fact was, he would continue to age much slower than you.

At your steely glare, Trina again raised her hands. This time in placating defense. “I’m trying to help you, is all I’m saying.”

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter so tight you thought a manicured nail might break off. You’d reached the end of your tether.

“I’ve been here for all of five minutes—”

“Okay, you know what?” Louisa finally stepped in and grabbed your arm. “I need your help. Let’s find the red tablecloth so we can set the table.”

She led you out of the kitchen and into the hall, but you stopped short so fast that you skidded a bit in your heels. You took deep breaths and braced a hand against the wall.

You turned to your sister. “Why doesn’t she attack you like that?”

“Oh, believe me,” Louisa said, rolling her eyes. “I had my turn before you got here. I’ve been locked in with these clucking hens all morning.”

A grin twitched at the corner of your lips.

“My condolences,” you said. But then, you look at your sister a bit harder. “And you. What’s your problem, huh? How long are you going to give Ben a hard time?”

It took her a moment, but Louisa eventually sighed.

“I mean, Aunt Trina’s an asshole, but she kind of said it. He’s literally a century-years-old,” she said. “How do you not have a problem with that?”

You crossed your arms, though you knew you didn’t have a good answer for that one.

“Age is…relative.” You struggled against a wince.

“He lived through the damn Dust Bowl,” Louisa deadpanned. “He’s fucking ancient.”

You glared back at her. “Okay, enough. What’s your real problem, huh? I mean really.”

Louisa let out another sigh. Her hands went to her hips. You hadn’t had a chance to tell her, but she looked pretty tonight too in her black dress. It flared at the waist and reached her knees, and she’d paired it with some chunky red heels. She was a little taller than you normally, but not by much. As the older sister, you enjoyed finally being taller than her for once in your higher heels.

Still, you were annoyed with her right now. You sensed she had something deeper against Ben, and it wasn’t all about his age. When she eventually answered, it just confirmed your suspicions.

“He’s dangerous,” she said at last. “He’s so fucking dangerous.”

That disheartened you. Your lips pressed, and you held onto your own arms a bit tighter.

“Not to me,” you replied. Louisa’s frown deepened as her brows knitted together.

“Especially to you,” she said. “He kidnapped you.”

You gave a wan smile. “Not technically.”

That had been one of his subordinates, who’d taken you outside of Ben’s orders…

It was a long and complicated story, but basically, it had worked out for both of you in the end.

Louisa gave you a more incredulous look. “He’s got an atomic bomb in his chest.”

“He’s working on controlling it,” you insisted. “He’s gotten a lot better!”

Louisa threw her hands upward in exasperation and turned to leave you in the hall. You stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Look, I get it,” you said, meeting her gaze directly. “You’re worried about me. But here’s the thing…you don’t have to do that. I’m the one who looks out for you, remember?”

Once again, she frowned at you. “Why, just because you’re older?”

You gave her a teasing smile.

“Well, yeah.” Still, you grasped both of her arms, now crossed in front of her chest. “Lou, haven’t I always taken care of you?”

“Okay, yeah,” she said. “But who takes care of you? Who makes sure you’re all right?”

You gave her a patient, if knowing look.

She grimaced. “Oh, don’t you say it.”

“Honestly, Lou. He does take care of me��he makes me feel safe.” You bit your lip, and your eyes began to well up with the sting of tears, emotion rising in your throat. “I’ve never had that. Ever.”

Your sister released a heavy sigh. “I know.”

“Then can you actually try to get to know him? Please?” You rubbed her arms, pleading with your eyes. You wanted your family to like your boyfriend, but it was so much more than that. You didn’t want to have separate worlds. Everyone in this house was part of your family, and that now included Ben.

The longer she looked into your imploring eyes, Louisa’s grimace lightened, just a touch. “I’ll think about it.”

You smiled then, warmly as you hugged your sister. You then kissed her on the cheek, leaving the bright red imprint of your lipstick.

When you went back into the kitchen, your better mood was ruined pretty quickly by watching your aunt run your mother around the kitchen with demands and instructions. You decided to jump into the fray, taking a large serving bowl out of Marie’s hands before it tipped over.

“How’s the ham doing?” you asked.

“About half an hour or so, I think,” Trina said. “Maybe forty-five.”

“Okay, and what’s left?”

“Let’s get the desserts ready.”

While your help sorely relieved your mother, it was actually a terrible idea for your mental health. When you could take no more of Trina’s irritating, commanding voice in your ear, you had to take a breath (as well as down a full glass of wine).

You wordlessly asked Louisa to tag in for you before you traveled into the living room.

There you found Ben immersed in a baseball game with Grandpa George. Both men only looked up at you when you stood near the couch with crossed arms. Your nerves were on edge, your blood still just short of boiling, but you took pains to look pleasant.

“Who’s winning?” you asked.

Ben quirked a smile at the sight of you, while George gave his more freely.

“5 to 3. It’s close on the Mets,” he said. You realized then that you hadn’t even hugged your grandfather yet.

“Oh my God, Grandpa! I’m so sorry,” you said with a frown. You went over to hug him. “Trina has me all out of whack.”

George chuckled and patted you warmly on the back. “Why do you think I’m out here?”

You sighed with a wry smile. You then turned to Great Aunt Sylvia, who was still passed out in the recliner.

“Aunt Sylvia?” you tried. You went over to her and touched her arm.

“Leave her be, hun,” George told you. “Only the smell of food’ll rouse that woman.”

Your smile deepened. Then you turned to Ben, who’d been watching you with reserved interest. He’d never seen you with the rest of your family before.

You went to him on his side of the couch and asked, in a tone deceptively light, “How about a tour of the house? You haven’t even seen it all.”

He could admit, it was a fairly big house for just your mother, but he was more interested in the game.

“I’m watching this,” he said, gesturing at the screen. However, when he saw the tight press of your lips, he knew something wasn’t right with you. You were trying to tell him something with your eyes, he just didn’t know what.

You leaned down, subtly grabbing his thigh.

“I need you,” you whispered in his ear. “Now.”

The tone of your voice set his blood alight with new interest.

Ben’s resulting smirk was subtle, but edged.

“A tour it is.”

AN: Just when you thought you'd seen the last of my BMD cliffhangers. 😏

How'd you like Ben's introduction to his girlfriend's family? I also sincerely hope you don't have an "Aunt Trina" in your life. 🙄

Next Time:

He grabbed your arms and meant to kiss you, but you stopped him with your fingers against his lips.

“Two rules: this lipstick doesn’t come off. And no. Ripping. The dress.”

Keep reading: PART 3

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

#Love Actually #Part 2 #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben x reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x you #break me down verse #Christmas fic #fluff #BMD verse #Break me down verse #zepskies writes

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devildomwriter · 5 months

Text

A Door to the Future | Mammon x Reader

.7K words | GN! Reader | CW: children

“Shit, which door did Barbatos say it was again…” Mammon walked down a corridor of doors in Barbatos’s room. He wasn’t even sure if he’d gone down the right hallway.

“Red door, red door…I think,” he mumbled as he strolled. His eyes lit up when he saw the door near the end of the hallway. “Bingo!”

He laughed to himself and sprinted to the door. He opened it up exited and waltzed right in when something collided with his leg.

“Hey!” He snapped instinctively before seeing the object was in fact a small boy.

“Oh shit, you alright kid…” Mammon asked and awkwardly crouched down to check on the boy. The boy looked up at him with bright blue eyes and Mammon raised one brow curiously.

“Hey, you kinda look like—“

“Papa!” The boy exclaimed and clung to Mammon’s leg. “I thought I didn’t get to say goodbye.” He sobbed and Mammon froze awkwardly.

“Yeah…um…here I…am?” Mammon was beyond confused and his instincts were telling him this definitely wasn’t the right door.

“Mammon, is that you?” Mammon froze when he heard your voice. Suddenly you appeared before him, older and more graceful than before but just as beautiful.

Mammon’s cheeks flushed when he saw you. “Oh, uh—“

You hugged him excitedly. “Good, I was worried Matty missed you.” You sighed in relief and Mammon looked around the room anxiously.

What was happening? Where did this door lead?

“Why don’t you have some coffee before you go, you can’t run off to work like that without breakfast,” you told him and he nodded wordlessly.

Wasn’t this the house of Lamentation? Something felt different about it. Mammon saw toys scattered across the floor and when he waltzed into the dining room behind you he saw six chairs instead of eight.

This made Mammon uneasy. Was everyone okay?

“Six…” you heard Mammon mumble worriedly.

“Did you forget? Leviathan and Asmodeus are visiting later so I brought the extra chairs out.”

Mammon noticeably relaxed when he felt Matty cling to his leg again. Mammon wasn’t sure what to do and kept walking, dragging the other leg behind him as the boy laughed excitedly.

“Daddy?” Mammon gasped and looked behind him where he saw a young girl, the spitting image of himself.

She wore a backpack and her hair was in a sloppy ponytail. She looked confused and possibly annoyed?

“Why aren’t you at work? Are ya skipping again?” She glared teasingly.

You laughed and Mammon shook his head, “I ain’t skippin’!”

“Ava, don’t tease your father so much,” you scolded and Mammon audibly gulped.

“F-fath—“

He was cut off when he heard Barbatos’s voice in his head.

“Mammon, return. Now.”

Mammon gently pried the boy from his leg and gave you an anxious look.

“Hey, listen…Umm. I gotta—“

You smiled and nodded. “I know.” Of course, you knew. Mammon wouldn’t stop talking about the future he saw with you when he returned to his own timeline. You’d wondered when you’d finally meet the Mammon of the past again. Alas, you couldn’t get him to stay any longer than he originally had.

You and Mammon shared a knowing smile. “See ya soon…yeah?” Mammon asked and you nodded. You waved and beckoned Ava and Matty to your side.

“Kids, say goodbye to dad.”

Ava grinned and Matty waved, “Bye papa!” They chimed in unison and Mammon, looking back until the last second shuffled out the door he came through.

Barbatos dragged him into the hallway and glared down at him.

“Wh…what was that…” Mammon gasped, holding his chest.

Barbatos rolled his eyes. “That was what you weren’t meant to see.”

“Wh-huh…d-does that really happen!? Are ___ and I gonna? Y-you know!”

Barbatos rolled his eyes again and sighed. “It’s a possibility.”

Mammon turned red and his heartbeat faster. “Hell no! It’s not a possibility, that’s happening! Definitely!”

“If you say so,” Barbatos clucked and started walking away towards the correct door.

“Hey don’t leave me!” Mammon yelled and ran after him, mind racing.

Could he make it happen? Of course, he could right!? Anything to see those little kids again, and you…every day for the rest of his life.

“Ava and Matty, huh…” Mammon grinned to himself. He couldn’t wait to tell you all about it. “___ is definitely gonna be with me, not even Lucifer can change that.”

#obey me drabble #obey me second generation #obey me mammon #obey me mammom x reader #Ava is short for Avarice she is 13 #Matty is 5 #mammon owns a large casino chain and sometimes skips work to hang out with his family #obey me fic #obey me ficlet

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improbabledragon · 5 months

Text

Okay one of my favorite things about dark heir is the way it gave me a story where the main character has a dark secret and in some ways things would be simpler if he just told his friends but, alas, he does not trust his friends, he thinks if he tells them, that they will turn on him … BUT HES RIGHT

This is a trope in a hundred thousand stories and I almost always hate it because miscommunication as a plot complication is frustrating and boring to me usually

But here???? HERE???? The whole time I was like, you know what Will, you are correct do not tell your friends yet actually. And you know it’s gonna come out eventually but the timing has gotta be just right. Have to wait long enough that they know you better and trust you and will stop themselves from just killing you immediately

But wait too long and Uh Oh you have been Lying To Your Friends For Months and now they trust you Less, for this has added to your sins

And then it comes out and Will was right they all turn on him 😭

Well. Almost.

#dark heir #dark heir spoilers #I’m still holding out hope for Violet #she is confused and upset right now and that is FAIR #and there was that line about how later she remembered that Will was the only one talking about the dark army #and James of course but that’s its own complicated variable #god this series has me writing original meta posts again I don’t think I’ve done that in years

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concreteburialplot · 13 days

Text

Banana Spa

pairing: nicholas ruffilo x fem!reader

masterlist: here | crossposted: ao3 | word count: 9.6k

summary: you decide to treat your boyfriend to an at home spa day before he leaves for tour again :)

warnings/themes: established relationship, sugary sweet fluff ???¿ who am i??¿, briefly sad??, light sub/dom dynamics, soft dom nick, sub reader, massage, praise kink?, pet names sorry not sorry, bathtub sex, use of a shower head, v fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, orgasm delay, pnv (unprotected), riding, semi-realistic? aftercare, caregiver nick, MUSHY SORRY, again nick has a big fat one, don’t think too hard about the logistics ok, 18+ MDNI

a/n; this originally began as a nice short fluffy piece but... alas, the sad and horny demons took hostage 😅 it's just who i am okay 😭 only sad for a bit though! kinda

a/n: don't like it don't read it. don’t be mean for no reason & let others enjoy things thnx :)

You stamped a knee at each side of Nick’s sides, settling yourself in his lap. His hands instinctively found your hips to have something to anchor to.

“Alright babe you gotta cooperate with me, okay?” You giggled, taking his cheeks in your hands.

He blinked up at you with his aqua eyes gleaming, so enamored with you to even care what you were doing in his lap, simply happy that you were there.

You began brushing hair out of his face and gathering it into a low, untethered bun to expose the entirety of his features. He was beautiful, nothing new to you of course, but at times like then, you couldn’t help but be awe-struck of him. He was yours and you were his.

You reached over to the table beside you to pick up some toner and soaking a cotton round with the liquid. You took it to his face, starting at his cheekbones. He hissed at the coldness of it against his warm skin.

“This smells so… chemically, are you sure it’s safe?” He asked as a half-joke and with a slightly nervous chuckle.

“Very sure my love.” A reassuring grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “You think I would put harmful chemicals on your pretty face?” You swiped the cotton round down his nose and used it to boop the tip.

A barely visible peach coated his cheeks, if you hadn’t been so close to him, you would’ve missed it.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanna scorch my face off so the fans stop liking me.” A playful smirk draped over lips.

You rolled your eyes and squeezed his cheeks between your fingers, tilting his face upwards to meet your gaze. “Oh honey,” You cooed playfully. “The fans would simp over you even if your nose fell off.”

A true laugh rumbled through his chest and tumbled out of his lips. “Yeah, whatever.” He brushed off the statement as if you just told him the sky was green. “What’s next?” He inquired genuinely, letting his eyes drop back to your arsenal on the table.

“Hmm…” You peered over behind you and tapped your fingertips on your chin. “Oh! Yes, I forgot I got this for you!”

Your fingers plucked a small yellow glass vile. You twisted the lid and squeezed the rubber part between two fingers then released it to let the pipette fill completely.

“Let me know if this smell reminds you of anything.” You slowly and carefully slid the tip of the glass pipette across his cheek, disposing serum along the way.

His nostrils flared and restricted in short consecutive spurts trying to let the aroma fill his nose entirely. His brows knitted for just a second as he processed the smell before his eyes grew sparkly and excited. “Banana?” He asked with hesitancy still lining his words, regardless of the indistinguishable scent.

You giggled and love filled your entire chest at his adorable reaction. “I knew you’d love it.” You sighed happily and utterly love drunk.

“Hm, I love you.” He countered, admiring the pointed, concentrated face you wore as you focused on rubbing in the product. “That stuff’s made from bananas?”

“I love you too baby.” You smiled and leaned down to gently grab his face again, this time to bring your lips to his. A smile curled onto his lips against yours, sweetening the kiss. You couldn’t help but mirror the grin and savor the adoration. “Hm, I think banana enzymes or something? I don’t really know.”

You straightened back up in his lap again, using your curled index finger to tilt his chin up and swivel his face from one side to the other analyzing his skin.

“Admiring your work?” He laughed, feeling a little silly and a little insecure from being studied so closely.

“Just trying to see if you have any spots that need a little extra attention.” You hummed. “But surprise, surprise the man that only uses face wash has perfect skin.”

His chest puffed out a little involuntarily, as if you just invigorated him with newfound confidence after being so foolishly insecure. “Well, would you look at that.” He smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off jokingly before reaching to pick up a thin packet from the table. “Still gonna make you do a face mask though.”

He groaned, “No, no not the clay stuff again.” He winced at the memory of the chalky mud you had once put on him that somehow ended up all over his hair…and eyebrows, and ears, and fingernails, and ʘ necklace, and his favorite Paul Rudd Fanclub shirt.

The Great Face Mask Incident of 2023™️

You couldn’t help but laugh at the same memory. “No, no. I would never put you through that again.”

Nick let out a relieved sigh as if he had just gone through some war flashbacks. “Thank god.”

“No, I think you’ll quite like this one.” You pressed your lips together to not give away just excited you were to show him the mask you had in store for him.

You carefully pulled the folded sheet mask from the packet, letting any excess drip back into the pouch before setting it to the side. You then began delicately unfolding the thin fabric of the mask. Nick’s brows knitted together, and his head cocked to the side slightly like a confused puppy as he tried to gather what sort of potential torture device you were preparing for him. Finally, you unveiled the round sheet with the likeness of a cartoon tuxedo cat.

His silver eyes lit up the second he realized. “It’s Jerry!” It melted your heart at just how wide his smile got, all toothy and reaching his eyes.

You giggled and nodded, “It sure looks a lot like him, doesn’t it?”

Once you were able to keep him from wiggling around, you put the mask on, tugging it here and there to get it taut and symmetrical.

“There, now you look just like your son!” You chuckled behind your hand, looking at how adorably ridiculous your boyfriend looked.

He smirked as much as could beneath the mask, “Yeah where do you think he got his good looks from?”

You rolled your eyes and gently smacked his arm but there was no malice behind either action, “At least Jerry has humility.”

He gazed up at you with a small, sweet smile painted on his lips and love coating the soft curves of his features. “Yeah, that he got from you.” He said casually, like it rolled off his tongue without even thinking twice about it.

Your heart swelled so big in your chest that it was threatening to breach your ribcage. Nicholas had Jerry long before you entered the picture but since getting together a little over a year ago, Jerry had become your biggest fan. Since day 1 he followed you around everywhere and if you were resting on any surface, he was there to claim you as his temporary bed. In your time together Nick had never once even joked about you being Jerry’s other fur-parent. It was a small frivolous thing, but you knew the weight it held. You didn’t know if he had just said it without realizing or if he truly meant it, but in your heart, you were choosing to believe the latter. Either way you opted out of making a big deal about it.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You gasped at your own brain urgently reminding you of a crucial step. You nearly leapt off him and bolted to the kitchen. Within seconds the project at hand was executed and ready for placement.

You scurried back over to him, this time standing behind his seat on the couch. “Alright, close your eyes and tilt your head back.”

“You got it boss.” He teased and did as you asked. It made you wonder just how much he’d cooperate with taking other orders – but that was a daydream for a much different day. “Cucumbers?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You held back a giggle and placed two banana slices over each closed eyelid. “Okay, all done!”

His nose scrunched up towards the objects on his eyes, “Bananas?!”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding back and placed a kiss atop his head. “Now you got all your favorite stuff, cats and bananas!” You circled around his seat and climbed into his lap again.

“And you.” He smiled softly while his callused hands instinctively found your hips again.

Your cheeks heated up and your stomach filled with butterflies. No matter how silly he looked, he could always get you to melt in his hands. “Oh, shut up.”

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” He asked.

Your grin faltered a bit at his question, and you paused to think about your answer. You let your hand fall gently just below his neck, sliding down slowly while your fingers softly laced beneath the silver chain of his necklace. You let the thorny pendant rest on your fingers as you admired it. As much as you hated the calm before the storm and selfishly despised the reason for it, you knew it’s what you signed up for and what brought him the most joy. Your thumb ran over the thorny crown, grateful for the amount of time you’d been able to spend with him during this break. This was maybe your 3rd or 4th run at him leaving for tour and while you could tell that it was getting easier, it was extremely slow progress. It seemed as though each time felt like the first time all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed in a feeble attempt to tame the burning in your eyes and the tears threatening to appear. You took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing that letting him see you like that would not only ruin the moment but make him feel guiltier than he already did, which was exactly the opposite of what the activity meant to accomplish.

“Baby?” He pressed after you’d gone silent for a bit.

You cleared your throat and blinked the tears away, forcing a smile onto your face so that it could be heard in your words. “Sorry love,” You wrapped your hand around the pendant just hard enough that the thorns stabbed into your palm, perhaps hoping that the pain could force the ache away, or maybe in hopes that if you stamped yourself hard enough with him, he could always stay with you. “Just got distracted. What did you ask?”

“I asked why we’re doing this? I feel really silly right now.” He laughed, though a little less bright than before. You hoped that he hadn’t picked up on your energy shift.

“Oh, um,” You looked down and released the hold on his necklace, letting your palms rest on his chest. “Just wanted to pamper you a little, before you have to go work so hard.” You tried your best to keep your voice light, but the sadness in your voice was unmistakable, at least to Nicholas.

His smile fell into a small frown, and it made you wish you had just lied, but you were never much of a good liar, especially not to him. He reached up pulling the banana slices off his eyes and placing them on a paper towel on the table. Somehow, he looked even goofier with the bananas off his eyes.

You suddenly felt flushed under his gaze – regardless of the cat mask still adorning his face. It was unclear whether it was the normal affect he had on you that was making you blush, or rather the vulnerability he’d caught you in.

“Baby,” He let out a sad sigh, “Is that what this is about?” His hands moved up to envelope your hips again, rubbing small comforting circles into the flesh beneath your shirt.

You shook your head vehemently, “No, no, I’m just tryin’ to spoil you honey, you deserve it.” You tried for a smile but couldn’t quite reach.

It was clear in his eyes that he wasn’t buying it. “Oh, let me get this cursed thing off of me.” He said, his hands already going to peel up the edges of the sheet mask but failing miserably.

A grin did pull at your lips watching him struggle and decided to take over. “Here, let me do it.” You laughed, gently swatting his hands away and pulling it off yourself and setting it on the table next to the forgotten bananas. “For someone who’s so good with his fingers, that sure was hard for you, huh?” You teased, attempting to deflect from the seriousness you’d just caused. All you wanted to do was go back to the soft, happy bubble you’d created before.

His inked hand trailed up your body to cup your cheek. “I’m gonna miss you so much, you know that right?”

You rolled your eyes trying your best to hold up your strong exterior, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, we don’t have to do this. We don’t have to talk about it, okay?” It took every bit of energy you had to yank each edge of your lips into a smile.

“Hey, don’t do that.” He frowned. “Maybe I wanna talk about it?”

“But you dooon’t though.” You whined, pressing on his chest slightly. “We were having a good time and I ruined it.” You whispered. Your eyes fluttered down to where your hands met his abdomen, faintly crinkling his faded Slipknot shirt between your fingers.

“Hey.” His hand found your chin and tilted it back up to face him once more. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He reassured the obvious.

“I know.” You mumbled and found your eyes dropping once again, not bearing the strength to look at him for too long. “I know what I signed up for. I know that it’s part of loving you.” Your hand rediscovered his necklace, flipping it between your fingers for comfort.

“Just because it’s part of the deal, doesn’t mean it’s not hard, y/n.” His voice was more firm that time, trying to cement the severity of his words.

“I know.” You groaned, frustrated that he wouldn’t just drop it.

He sighed, “I’m just saying it’s okay to be upset about it. And it’s okay to talk to me about it.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, enticing you to look at him. “We’re a team, remember?”

You released a long exhale finally relaxing a bit under his touch. “I know, Nicky, I know. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty and,” Your hand went up to wrap around his wrist and your eyes darted somewhere far away from him. “I didn’t want you to think that I can’t handle it.” Before he could respond your fingers gripped his wrist harder and the burning in your eyes returned. “I can handle it, I can.”

The crack in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by the male and all he wanted to do was scoop you up in his arms, but he knew better than to smother you when you were that emotional. “I know you can baby.” He said gently, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that was on the verge of escape. “I never questioned that. And if I ever do, then we’ll work through it,” He gently tapped the side of his thumb on your cheek to bring your attention back to him. “Together. Okay?”

You nodded against his palm, nuzzling into his touch. “Together.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled and pulled you down into a sweet kiss.

You pressed your forehead against his gazing into his eyes, tonight they were particularly grey. “You’re too good to me.” You said so quietly that if he wasn’t nose-to-nose to you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He shook his head as much as he could without disturbing the moment, “No, I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not tr-“ You began but were quickly interrupted by his lips on yours again.

“Ah, ah.” He hummed once he pulled away, “I won’t be taking any back talk.”

Your cheeks burned bright cherry red that time, no amount of makeup could conceal it. Even though his words were light, you knew he wasn’t joking. Nicholas was an expert at imbedding dominance in featherlight touches and sweet nothings.

“Yes sir.” You replied instinctively.

The energy spiraled between you two had shifted from silly to emotional, to something entirely different now. His hands trailed up your sides beneath your shirt to rest both on your lower back.

“C’mon, you took such good care of me, now it’s your turn.” Without giving you any warning he scooped you up. You squeaked at the sudden action but instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Where are you taking meeee.”

“Well, we’re having a spa day, aren’t we? What’s a spa day without a bubble bath?”

You melted into him, loving the idea of a warm bath accompanied by him.

Nick began drawing the bath making sure to add all your favorite additives as you stood patiently waiting instruction. Once he was satisfied with the way the tub was filling, he sat on the edge and beckoned you over. “Come here angel.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth at the name, taking a couple steps to stand between his legs. He began tenderly undressing you until you were completely bare in front of him.

He wasn’t shy with the way his eyes wandered down your body. “God you’re beautiful.” His words riding an infatuated exhale.

The strawberry pink already present on your cheeks only worsened. “Shush.” You wave off his compliment and used your arm to cover your chest.

He stood and took your chin between his index and thumb tilting your gaze up at him. “I won’t ever stop reminding you of how stunning you are.”

You shook your head out of his grasp. “Shut up Nicholas.” You said shyly.

He took your cheek in his grasp instead this time, getting more control of you. “What’s wrong baby? Am I getting you all flustered?”

You were sure your face was beet red now. “C’mon Nicky, stop messin’ around, the bath is getting cold.”

A satisfied smirk tugged one edge of his lips, finding amusement and pride in your blatant embarrassment. “As you wish princess.” He began to undress himself until he was matching your nude attire.

Your eyes did the same as his did earlier and raked down his body, lean and inked on almost every bit of him. You’d been with him for over a year and you still managed to find new tattoos on him that you’d never seen before. His body was a spectacular and endlessly interesting museum only you had the key to.

He didn’t wait for you and stepped over the porcelain into the large oval tub, letting his body sink down into the steaming water. Almost instantly your exquisite museum was engulfed in mountains of bubbles. “Well, you comin’? You were the one complaining about water ‘getting cold’.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and cautiously dipped your toe into the water. You hissed and recoiled at the scalding temperature. “Fuck that’s hot.”

Nicholas chuckled at your reaction, “Still think it’s getting cold?”

“Shut up.” You mutter.

“Just take it slow baby, let your body get acclimated to the water.” He sounded patient but his eyes didn’t match – the longer you were under his gaze, the more you felt like an animal of prey being stalked.

After a bit of time getting your lower body get used to the water you were finally able to sink down between his legs and rest your back against his chest. A small sigh of relief left your lips at the feeling of soothing comfort with him. No matter the problem or hindrance, Nick always made everything okay. He made you feel safe and taken care of in a way you’d never felt before. Getting that feeling from a rockstar who’s constantly touring wasn’t something you ever imagined possible, but somehow, it was with him. It took a while for him to earn your trust, especially at the very beginning, the first time he toured just a month or two after making things official. But he made sure to prove his faithfulness in a multitude of ways – from sharing his location to sending pictures and videos frequently to even sending you flowers or other small gifts to let you know he was thinking of you. Life with Nicholas wasn’t perfect, but it was a dream.

His fingers first found your shoulders, digging his thumbs into the wound-up tense muscles at the base of your neck.

“Mmm.” You hummed at the sensation and leaned further back against him. “That feels so good baby.”

“Yeah?” He asked, kissing the side of your head.

“Mhm.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you sank a little further into the water.

He spent some time working through the knots in your neck and shoulders. Wherever he pressed his fingertips felt like he was releasing a world of tension.

“That’s it, just relax.” His hands drifted down past your shoulders and onto your sides, using his thumb to rub circles into the muscles of your back - as best he could in your position anyway.

As his hands trailed lower you felt a flutter fill your tummy and settle in your core. You didn’t even realize you were squirming until his hands found and gripped your hips hard. “Stay still.” He ordered quietly just below your ear.

A shiver ran through you at his gravelly voice stealing the air in your throat. You did as he said, as much as you could, and hoped it’d be good enough for him. His fingertips lowered, beginning to run up and down the curves of your hip bones. The close proximity of his fingers to your core was starting to make you dizzy. You sucked in a harsh breath when his hands traveled further down to massage your thighs. His fingers were diligent and determined with their placement and tempo, using his thumb to rub tight circles into the flesh of your upper inner thigh. There’s no way he couldn’t feel you nearly vibrating under his touch, and you had to restrain yourself from grabbing his hand to put him where you needed him the most.

You felt his lips curl into a sinister smile against your neck. “What’s wrong princess?” He asked condescendingly. “Am I not helping you relax?”

“No, no. You are.” You almost stutter out, trying to sound as confident as possible.

“Hm.” He hummed, gliding his fingers up the inner side of your thigh. “I wonder… what you do when you get all wound up like this when I’m away?” There was an edge to his question that erased any indication of genuine curiosity.

Your eyes widened at the question and your mind went fuzzy blank. “Well…I…um.” Was all you could get out, pathetically.

“Oh, c’mon baby.” He lowered himself to just below your ear. “Use your words for me. Tell me what you do.”

Your heart felt like it was colliding against your ribcage incessantly while simultaneously pooling your rampant pulse in your clit. “I-I,” You took a breath in a feeble attempt to steady your breathing. “I touch myself.” You blurted out, knowing it was both the truth and what he wanted to hear.

You didn’t need to look at him to know how wide and proud his smirk was.

“Good girl.” He hummed. “Why don’t you show me where you do that?”

Your eyes widened once again, this time swallowing all the saliva available in your mouth. Hesitantly, you reached out beneath the water and took hold of his wrist, bringing it between your legs. “Here.”

He used his hand to slowly cover and cup your core before carefully running his fingers through you. You wanted to whine at the small sensation but knew how pathetic you’d sound. “Thank you for showing me baby.” He acknowledged your obedience. “But I want you to show me exactly what you do.”

You’d show him anything at that point to keep his fingers on you, so you nodded and covered his hand with your own. You guided him to your clit that was buzzing and begging for his attention. Your middle and ring fingers pressed into his and prompted them to start moving in circular motions.

“Mmm.” He pressed a kiss to your neck before nipping at the skin like a predator taste-tasting his meal. “That feels good doesn’t it?”

Your head lulled itself on his shoulder, already getting lost in the pleasure blooming at his fingertips. “Mhm.” You mumbled with drooping eyelids.

He took control of the movements almost instantly, starting a display of one of his many talents. He let you savor his actions for a bit, knowing that the further gone you were, the more pliable you’d be in his hands. “Is this all you do baby? Or is there somewhere else you touch?” He asked already knowing the answer, just wanting you to say it.

His plan worked, as it always did, and you were nothing but an obedient ragdoll for him now. Every cell in your body wanted to bend to him – he had magic in his touch, you were completely certain of it.

Without any verbal response you just guided his working hand down to your entrance. That’s all the convincing he needed and carefully slipped two fingers into you. He let out a small, low groan the feeling of how tight you were around his fingers. You could feel his already hardening cock throb against your lower back. The sensation of his member against your skin while he was using his fingers to fuck you was bittersweet because now all you wanted was his cock filling you up instead.

“God you’re so fucking tight.” He nearly growled against your throat. “I’m gonna miss burying myself in your pretty cunt.”

You felt like you could disintegrate into thin air from how good you felt – yeah, his fingers working magic was one thing, but his words melted you completely. Being complimented and wanted, no – needed – by him was a high that no orgasm could ever touch.

“I need your cock, Nicky please.” You whined without caring how desperate you sounded. “Please, I need you.”

“Oh bunny, you know better than to rush me.” He tsked before moving to do something you didn’t expect. He kept his one hand fucking his fingers in and out of you rhythmically while curling in ever so slightly but brought the other back down on your throbbing clit.

A gasp left your mouth as he effortlessly used both hands to fuck you in the most delicious way. You had already been close just from his fingers curling right into your sensitive spot but now with his fingers rolling against your nub you were seconds from oblivion.

“Fuck.” You spat out urgently. “Fuck, fuck, I’m close – s-so fucking close.” You whimpered out, squeezing your eyes closed trying to keep from coming undone before you were allowed. “Fuck baby, please let me cum. Please can I cum?”

All he did was hum an “mhm” against your neck before you were seeing stars. Tingles seared across your body and your walls pulsed around his fingers.

“That’s it, cum all over my fingers like the good girl you are.”

The praise only intensified the orgasm, causing your back to arch from him. Your face lulled into the crevice of his neck letting him vividly hear all the noises you were making for him. Nick loved your noises as much as you loved his words – he made a mental note to record you next time so he could have something on the road. He could get off on the sound of you alone.

He gently pulled his fingers from you and slowly tapered his action on your clit, but not completely. He retained an agonizingly slow pace on your now overly sensitive nub. He kept the pace slow enough so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for long until you started to feel good again.

You felt him reaching beside you for something but were too fucked out to pay attention. “Tell me baby, have you ever used this to help relax?” His voice was buttery smooth like blue suede.

Your brows furrowed above your closed eyelids, wondering what he was referencing. When you blinked your eyes open, they rounded to see him holding the detachable showerhead and was suddenly grateful for the extra-long cord you’d opted for. You shook your head and answered honestly. “No.” You’d always been curious but never actually tried.

Nicholas was an expert at knowing when you were lying so he believed you. “Here.” He tenderly scooped up your hand, cupping it in his own like a spoon. With a flick of his other thumb on the showerhead, a crazed stream of patterned water jutted from it. He brought it to the hand he was holding and let the stream hit your palm. “Is that too strong?” He questioned genuinely wanting to know your comfort level.

As much as the strength of the water inspired some more flurries in your core, you nodded shyly. “Too strong.” It was typical for your responses to become minimal once you entered any level of subspace. Having that amount of trust to even fall into that headspace was a luxury you only ever found with Nick. Trusting him was easier than you’d like to admit, it came as naturally as breathing air into your lungs.

“Okay.” His thumb spun the filter onto another setting. “How about this one?” He questioned even though he figured it would be a no since it was thin streams of water lining an empty tunnel.

That one made you giggle and shake your head since it obviously wouldn’t provide much pressure. Nick smiled at your adorable giggle, filling his chest with so much warmth and love, he had no idea what to do with it all. He pressed a kiss to your head before flipping to another setting.

A perfectly tempered stream danced in your palm – not too strong, not too weak, and the jet pattern was an enticing rhythm. You bit down on your bottom lip and nodded. “Good.”

Nick’s free hand found your tummy, pressing it flat against your stomach and slid down painfully slow between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat at the anticipation of his touch. He tenderly spread your legs further apart before using his fingers to spread your lips apart, baring you open so that the jet stream of water could land precisely where it was needed.

“Now sweetheart,” He began. “You were so good for me. You did as I asked, you used your words, you asked for permission.” He lowered the shower head into the water, and you felt the jet stream hit your thigh. It was stronger than you expected and suddenly both fear and excitement pooled in your core. “I want you to know that this is a reward. This is what good girls get. Do you understand?”

Your cheeks grew warm, and your breath hitched in your throat at his words. Before you had time to properly prepare, the strong pressure of the stream pummeled into your sensitive nub. You let out a loud squeak as intense pleasure coarsed your body and down your limbs.

“Baby. I asked you a question. Do you understand that I’m allowing you to feel this good? That this is a privilege?”

Your hands gripped his thighs at each side of you and nodded your head enthusiastically, “Yes sir, I do.” You barely got your words out past your heavy breathing.

He smiled against your neck, “That’s my girl. My best girl. Now what do you say?”

Your heart flooded with lovey pride and your brain filled with nothing but him. He encompassed your very being, every cell of your composition belonged to him. “Thank you.” Your head fell back on his shoulder as he brought the shower head closer to your cunt, only intensifying the pressure. “Thank you, thank you.” You repeated like a prayer.

“God, I can’t wait to fill that pretty pussy up with my cock.” The end of his words resembled something like a growl.

His evident need for you went straight to your stomach, helping to weave a knot that was ready to snap. You were surprised you’d lasted this long since this was easily one of the best feeling you’d ever felt. Knowing that something as convenient as a shower head held so much power was dangerous, especially now that you associated it directly with him.

The jet propulsion on your clit was deliciously brutal, each wave hitting you harder than the last as your sensitivity increased. Your legs began to tremble from the sheer amount of pleasure building up in your body begging for release. “Nicky.” You heaved out while your fingers dug into his thighs. “I can’t hold it, please.” Your request drenched in utter desperation. “Please let me cum, I need to cum baby please.”

Nicholas hummed at the request, mulling it over in his head. If this were any other day, under any other circumstances, he’d string out your orgasm as far as he wanted, but it was a day of relaxation after all.

“Go ahead,” He whispered, bringing the shower head just a tiny bit closer to nudge you over the edge. “Cum for me, will you? And don’t fight it okay? I wanna hear you.”

And with that, another orgasm blinded you, this one ripping through you more violently than the last. Your entire body was in sparking, euphoric bliss. Curses, screams and moans poured from your throat, all laced with his name.

“Oh, that’s it princess, let it all out for me.”

And you did just that. He kept the stream on your bud through your high and somewhere between his grainy voice talking you through and your overstimulation, another wave of pleasure washed over you. Your throat grew sore from your incessant noises that now probably sounded like gibberish sprinkled with his name.

He slowly drew the metal shower head away from your core to carefully lull you from your high. You were nothing but a heaving, shakey, fucked out mess in his grasp.

“Good job baby.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You did so good for me.”

A lazy smile spread across your lips and nodded slightly. His warmth was the only thing tethering you to reality.

He let you recover from your orgasms before moving on. His hands found your hips once more and pressed you against him. You felt his own arousal thick and hard against your lower back and it reminded you of the ache between your legs that only he could fill.

“You wanna turn around for me baby?”

While you felt like utter mush in his hands, his offer sparked the potential of having him inside you, and that was something you didn’t plan to pass up on. You nodded and shifted around in the water, letting the liquid slosh around tub even spilling out a bit unintentionally. “Oops.” You giggled.

“Hi angel.” He says softly with a crooked smile painted across his lips the second his eyes meet yours. Sure, he held the reigns in the bedroom and most other areas of your relationship, but it was no secret that you were the one with complete control over him. You made him weak in ways he never imagined being, he would give you anything you wanted if you just batted your lashes at him. He was putty in your hands, and he loved it.

He looked so beautiful, and you suddenly felt scammed knowing that you had your back to him looking like that the whole time. His raven hair had fallen from the makeshift bun from the couch and was now splayed over his shoulders, the ends now damp and pointy. You couldn’t wait one more second without his lips on yours, so you scooped up his face in both hands and met his lips with yours. You broke the kiss to press your forehead against his, wanting to engulf yourself fully in his stormy eyes. “I love you.” You whispered.

“I love you too.” He replied matching your whisper. His hands found your hips again, pulling you towards him – not out of desire to intensify the moment, but simply to have you closer. “God, I love you more than anything.”

Peachy pink dusted your cheeks and the smile that his words brought to your lips was embarrassingly wide. You shied away from him and shook your head, “You’re being silly.” Out of all the grand things in his life, you were sure that you were the least exciting or interesting part.

His hand trailed warm water up your arm to pick up your chin, “I’d never joke about that.” His thumb grazed over your cheekbone, cupping your cheek. “I’m so grateful for the patience you’ve given me, given us. You might be the best thing to ever stumble into my life.”

Every atom in your body begged to mesh with him. It only took one exchanged look between you two for your bodies to rearrange so you could sit on his lap. Your lips collided, followed by a messy display of clashing teeth and hungry tongues. Your passion was fueled only by the blind love you had for him and your desire to prove that his love for you was warranted. Your fingers tangled into the base of his dark hair, tugging at it slightly needing every bit of him entwined with your very molecules. He kept one hand on your hip while the other held tangled in your own wet hair.

As much as you wanted to keep telling him how much you loved him, you couldn’t bear to break away from him even for a second. If you couldn’t tell him, you’d show him.

You rutted your hips up his thighs until you felt the base of his member rest against your bare cunt. He let a groan out into the kiss at the feeling of you against him. One of your hands fell from his hair to his length, your fingers instinctually molded around the silky soft flesh. It never ceased to impress you at just how big he was and no matter how many times you’d had him it never eased the ache of taking him.

His sizeable cock was decorated with bulging veins from the blood that coursed through him. Even though your fingers had grown to be expertly familiar with his anatomy, you still loved exploring him, tracing each vein with your fingertips. This earned you another grunt from somewhere deep in his chest and you pridefully smiled against the kiss.

You finally gave him what you knew he wanted, wrapping a hand around this girth and began palming him slowly. His member had a delicious upward curve to it that helped to reach the deepest and most sensitive part of you. Your mouth was watering at just the feeling of him in your hand – in that moment you could’ve sworn that you would do absolutely anything to have it inside you. It was not a want, but a carnal need.

He finally had enough and pulled from the kiss, “Baby, please.” He breathed out against your lips, his love drunk eyes heavy with lust as he looked up at you. “I need your pussy.” His chest rose and fell in time with yours, needing you just as badly as you needed him.

You nodded quickly against him before lifting yourself up enough to hover over him. Regardless of how much you wanted it, you still had to mentally prepare yourself for the initial pain. Nick helped align himself with your entrance while keeping a supportive hand on your hip bone. You exhaled a deep breath.

Sensing your hesitation, he gave your hip a small squeeze, “You can take it baby, just go nice and slow. We have all the time in the world.” He reassured you, letting you set the pace.

You nodded and carefully began to sink down on him. A hiss escaped your mouth at the way his width stretched you open. Your hand fell to his shoulder for support as you struggled to pull yourself further down.

Nicholas’ eyes couldn’t soak you up enough, he was mesmerized at the sight of you. He wished he could burn it into his brain. “God, you look so fucking pretty taking my cock.”

His compliment only made you more determined to push past the pain and discomfort. When you felt your cervix land on his tip you knew that was as far as you could take him. While you couldn’t reach his base fully, you were still surprised and proud of yourself for being able to take so much of him in that position.

He let out a low groan at the feeling of your cunt tightly enveloping his cock. “You feel so fucking good.”

You expelled a breath then swirled your hips with him still deep inside you. The goal was to adjust to his size before riding him. The stretch burned but you knew it’d sweeten once you started moving.

The way he gazed up at you made you weak and your body gave into him, falling into the crook of his neck. You began placing open mouth kisses on his tattooed throat while your hips started swiveling on him. Light, airy moans tumbled from you lips and onto his neck. His hands gripped your hips tighter, letting out a grunt from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Fuck,” He groaned, letting his head fall back into the ledge of the tub. “I need you to move baby, I need more.”

You nodded quickly, needing it just as badly. Your hands slipped off him to stabilize yourself on the porcelain ledge. It gave you enough balance to raise your hips up almost fully, before dropping them where he filled you the fullest.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good.” He groaned out, his eyes droopy and drunken by only his love for you.

The praise helped motivate you to keep going even though the stretch burned. But you got to control the pace and the depth you could handle – although part of you wished he did have control so that he would forego any hindrances and use you up fully.

You gained momentum on him, bouncing up and down on his cock. Water splashed everywhere, over the ledge and all over the floor but that was the furthest thing on your mind. The room was filled with moans, grunts and cursed from both of you. You felt the knot beginning to form in your tummy as did he. But his surprises weren’t done yet.

He reached over to where he’d placed the shower head, easily flipping it on to the previous setting. Your eyes rounded as he began to lower it towards the water and you shook your head vigorously. “No, no, no.” You cried. “I won’t last, please, no.”

His other hand drifted down your spine with a feather light touch. “Well, that’s the point sweetheart.” He hummed. “Don’t you wanna cum again for me baby?” He questioned patronizingly. You knew that tone and you knew it meant it wouldn’t be as easy as he was eluding.

He continued his actions and aimed the powerful stream of water directly at your clit. A jolt of pure electricity zipped up your spine and down your thighs. Your entire body shuddered at the sudden and intense sensation. Your fingertips curled into his skin, surely branding claw marks into his flesh. “God, fuck.” You exclaimed loudly, barely able to move.

“Now, baby, remember that cumming is a privilege remember? I could very well leave you all worked up with your pretty pussy clenching around nothing if you misbehave.” He warned. “Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly, slipping your tongue between your lips. But that of course wasn’t enough for him.

His hand tightened on your hip and brought the shower head a bit closer to heighten the sensation. “I believe I asked you a question darling.” His voice deep and raspier than normal. “Do you understand? You know I need to hear it.”

“Yes,” You shuddered out. “Yes, sir. I understand.” You couldn’t seem to catch your breath, the air in your lungs completely vacant. Your heart thumped so hard against your ribcage you thought it might shatter and burst in front of him and splinter his own chest.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Now, I don’t remember telling you that you could stop moving.”

You whined in near agony, squeezing your eyes shut and slowly beginning your movements again. “Fuck.” You lulled your head back, buzzing pleasure spreading through every bit of you.

“Faster.” He commanded. “Or I’m gonna make this very unpleasant for you.”

His sweetness was long gone and replaced by the Nick you had grown very familiar with. You’d never guess by his normal relaxed and reserved demeanor that he’d have this overwhelming dominance in bed, but you loved it. It was as though something in him would take over, like he’d try to fight it to stay sweet and romantic, but it rarely lost the fight. It was thrilling to watch his internal battle; you’d seen it so often that you had memorized the shift in his eyes and subtle change in his cadence.

You rarely chose to challenge his threats and today was no different, So, you began lifting and dropping your hips against his lap, taking in fully – or as much as you could anyway. His free hand slithered up your side to cup your breast, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp. His stare couldn’t seem to stay on any solid one part of you, darting from your tits bouncing as you moved, to your face contorting with the overwhelming pleasures you were experiencing, to down where you were connecting with him. He looked at you the way people look at monuments or ancient architecture. He didn’t care about a single other wonder in the world because he was convinced you were the only one in existence. You were an art museum to him, every single installation he could study for hours and never grow bored of your beauty and the delicate nature of your soul. He was utterly infatuated with and devoted to you.

It became difficult to continue riding him without getting sloppy from another orgasm building quickly in your stomach. Your clit was buzzing and threatening to tip you over the edge at any moment. The way he filled you up only made it worse – being full of him made the time without him even more empty. You’d never had someone fill you up so much, he made it hard to even clench around him. It was an incredible experience and one that would make having anyone else subpar. He had set the bar so high that it made it impossible for anyone else to measure up to him. If he ever decided he’d had enough of you, you’d spend the rest of your days seeking bits of him in anyone you ever let touch you. He’d certainly haunt you worse than phantom ever could.

Thankfully, from the way his cock throbbed and bounced inside you, told you that he was getting close too. Your heart thumped so hard in your throat that you questioned if you’d even be able to speak.

“I-I’m close.” You whimpered out. “Can I cum?”

He tsked at the request. “Now baby, I taught you better that. You’re forgetting my favorite word. Try again.”

Your palms dug into his chest at his rebuttal. “Fuck.” You closed your eyes attempting to stave off your orgasm. “Fuck, please.” You begged. “God, fuck, please, I need to cum. Please can I cum?”

“Hm.” He feigned a thought. “No, not yet. Hold it.”

You shook your head vigorously, “No, no, no, please I can’t. I won’t make it, I’m so close. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it.”

“You can and you will.” He said simply. “And if you don’t, you don’t wanna know how much you’ll regret it.”

His face was serious, but you could tell that the excitement was growing in his belly too. You swore that he thrived over your desperation, he loved seeing you squirm and bringing to the edge of your limits. It was sadistic the way he was fueled by your anguish. You don’t know if you’d ever admit it, but you enjoyed being commanded and used like a plaything. Being at his mercy was a thrill you loved chasing, especially knowing he’d always catch you.

You scrunched your eyes closed and bore down on your teeth holding on to the tattered thread left holding you on to your sanity. “Fuck.” You breathed out. It was almost painful how your sensitive nub throbbed beneath the powerful stream of water and how tight the knot in your tummy had grown. His tip assaulting your cervix intensified everything and overbearing pleasure was looming merely seconds way from shattering your resolve. “Fuck, fuck.” You whined. “Fuck, please, please let me cum, I need it so bad. Please I don’t want to disobey you but I’m so close, I need to cum, please – fuck, I can’t hold it, fuck fuck, please can I cum?” Your pathetic groveling was a pitiful display, but it was one that Nicholas could barely handle himself. He could get off from the hymns of your desperation alone.

“Fuck I love when you sound like that.” He groaned. “Fine baby, cum all over my fucking cock.” If he hadn’t been so close himself, he surely would’ve stretched out the torture.

As if you needed anymore help, he brought the shower head even closer. The heightened sensation instantly blinded you, causing your entire body shudder as sparking euphoria bloomed from your core. This orgasm was more powerful than the others due to the delayed pleasure and his length hitting your sensitive spot directly. The moans and curses that left your mouth were vulgar and smeared with the unholy devotion you had for him. Every cell in your body belonged to him just as he demanded it.

Your walls tightly clenching around him was his tipping point. “God, you look so fucking good with my cock so deep inside you.” He growled, gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises behind. “Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum.”

You were too lost in your own bliss to really hear what he said until you felt his length twitch inside you followed by his warm seed filling your core. If you weren’t so overspent, the feeling alone could’ve sent you into another orgasm – but seeing as you were still working through your own, you weren’t that concerned about it.

As you both came floating down from your highs, he flipped off the shower head and set it to the side ledge. You had fallen on his chest while your heaving chests rose and fell in time with each other’s. His fingertips raked through the slightly damp hair of your scalp. You purred and smiled at the affection gesture.

He grinned at the reaction, “I love you.” His buttery words fell from his lips in a tone just above a whisper.

Nick would never admit it, but he was extremely talented at almost anything he ever picked up. If he gave it a good honest try, it wouldn’t take long for it to become second nature. He never imagined that there would be anything in the world that would come easier than a graphite pencil or tattoo gun or almost any instrument he picked up. He knew his tattoo gun and his favorite guitar like the back of his hand and while he’d never fully believe it, he already knew you that way too. As with everything else, just because he was a master-of-all didn’t mean there were never any bumps or challenges or hardships – pencils snap, tattoo guns malfunction, and sometimes strings don’t want to tune just how you want them - above all else, Nicholas knew that the most. He knew the best things in life were never easy, but that never stopped him before and it certainly wasn’t going to stop him now.

“I love you too.” You muttered sleepily into the crook of his neck.

The satisfaction of inking a particularly difficult design or mastering a challenging new riff could never compare to the feeling he got from hearing you say those words.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry and warm.” He gently patted your hip and you nodded, using every bit of strength in your body to sit yourself upright.

Nicholas was incredible in his element. It’s one thing to be able to take control sexually, but it’s a whole other thing to be able take gentle control outside of that – and he did, effortlessly. He carefully pulled you off him and got you standing on your feet. He only allowed the air conditioning to dance on your skin for a millisecond before he wrapped a big fluffy towel around you. You tugged the terrycloth fabric so tight against your skin that you were sure you’d have imprints of the threads embedding into your skin. When you lifted your leg over the porcelain, you felt the familiar ache between your thighs that always came from loving him. It wasn’t the worst you’d felt, since you had set the pace, but the water supplied no lubrication, and you were definitely feeling the repercussions.

Nick wrapped a towel around his waist and unplugged the bath drain. When he finally made his way back over to you. When you were both barefoot it really emphasized just how much he actually towered over you. The water droplets glistening across his tan, inked skin made him look like a work of art. Your eyes traced his collarbones and landed on the thorny pendent you were fidgeting with before.

“Oh yeah, before I forget.” You didn’t realize what he was doing until he pulled the necklace from neck and gently draped it over your head. It landed way longer on your chest but it didn’t matter. Your fingers found the pendent and immediately rubbed it for comfort.

“I can’t take this.” You claimed, but the smile that had already made home on your face said otherwise.

He smiled and took your jaw into one hand and placed his other hand over yours covering the necklace. “I’ll always be with you now. If you miss me or get anxious just squeeze it, and I’ll be right there with you. Okay?”

Tears burned your eyes, but you were determined to keep it together, the last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of him naked and shivering. You nodded quickly, “Thank you.” You whispered, hiding a sniffle.

“You’re welcome baby.” He said and placed a quick kiss to your forehead.

He gently grasped your shoulders giving them a little rub to warm you up before guiding you back into the bedroom. The edges of his lips dipped into a frown the second he noticed your limping.

“Oh baby, did I hurt you? I knew we should’ve gotten out of the bath-” He always began to panic ramble if he thought he might’ve hurt you or not taken care of you properly.

You giggled at his worrisome nature and placed a finger over his lips. “It’s okay, really.” You reassured and watched his anxiety disappear. “But it does hurt.” Your lips pulled together in a pout. “Fix it?”

A small smile pulled across his lips and he nodded knowing exactly what that meant.

The time after with Nicholas somehow always felt more intimate. He was driven to love you the best way he knew how, and you relished in the safety he wrapped you in. No matter how rough he got in bed, afterwards he always handled you like a freshly plucked gardenia. He was convinced that if he even grabbed you the wrong way you’d crumble. But he loved it, he was sure that if he was put on this earth to do one thing, it was to take care of you.

After applying some numbing cream where you ached the most and getting you into some fresh pajamas, you were finally exactly where you wanted to be. You were tucked right into Nick’s side, cozy under the covers, sharing a pint of pistachio ice cream while watching reruns of your favorite mutual comfort show.

You looked up at him when he laughed at something silly in the show and the glow from the tv illuminated his features beautifully through the darkness. In that moment, he gave you every bit of reassurance you needed to handle him being gone. You were his and he was yours, and as long as you loved him, he’s always come home to you if you let him.

He glanced down at you, catching you in your admiring stare. The edges of his lips pulled taut into a wide, toothy smile.

“Bob’s Burgers is over there you know.” He teased, tilting his head across the room.

You giggled and burrowed your face into his chest. “You’re much more entertaining.”

He chuckled in disbelief, “Am I?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, getting sleepy the second your head touched his chest.

He laughed softly and precariously plucking the empty pint of pistachio from your dozing grasp to put on the bedside table. He pulled you closer to him and tugged the fluffy duvet higher to cover you both.

Before you let sleep envelope you, you felt his fingers tenderly massaging your scalp. “I love you.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Nicholas.” You hummed back lovingly, nuzzling into his chest.

Taglist; @neverknoah @lma1986 @baddestomens @deathblacksmoke @philomenie @blacksoul-27 @thcfountain

A/N; Thank you so much for reading, i hope you liked it, lmk if you did<3

#nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo fluff #concreteburialplot works #kind of repetitive my bad #just ignore it

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plussizeficchick · 1 year

Text

Hey guys.. so interesting factoid about me; I like to watch wrestling. I mean, tune in every week, watch the PPV’s, buy the merch type of fan.

Soo, let’s talk about Pro Wrestler!Bakugo

At first, he had no interest in it, he wanted a more rugged sport like football, but after his mother saw one too many players get CTE, she immediately pulled him from the sport.

He was angry at first because dammit, he’s not like those other extras on the field! But alas, to save himself an earful, he quit the sport as a two-time Super Bowl champion.

But he needed something else to let his aggression out. Something heavy-hitting.

That’s when he found pro wrestling.

At first, he was shit, he can admit that. He didn’t know how to run the ropes, he wasn’t with the high-flying shit and making people tap out didn’t satisfy his needs. That’s when he found his real fighting style.

Brawler.

He likes to beat people up. He likes pummeling his opponents into bloody heaps until they’re too far gone to even stand. And he especially likes the shiny belt that gets thrown over his shoulder after every title defense.

But nothing, nothing, compares to the cute, chunky commentator that sits at ringside.

He thinks you’re absolutely adorable, the way you try to shit on his matches and promos, and he knows it’s hard! He’s incredibly charismatic and he has the chops to back it up.

He corners you one day before a show, “Hey, Chubs. You got a problem with me or something?” He presses you. You’re a bit caught off guard and he uses that to back you up against a wall. “Cat got your tongue? Funny how you always seem to have something to say out there but when it’s just us…” You cut him off, pressing a firm, manicured finger into his chest. “Listen, asshole. I actually do have a problem with you. I think you’re full of shit. You walk around like you own the place, when the only reason you got your spot in the company is by kissing the boss’s ass. So yeah, I’ve got a fucking problem with you.” You storm off, muttering incoherently under your breath and fuck, Bakugo doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than he was right then.

The following week you’re the one cornering him in the hallway. “What the fuck is this?” You angrily shove the papers in his face. Bakugo smirks at the papers, “I see you got the news.” “No shit I got the news, what the fuck are you trying to do?” You press. Bakugo stands, towering over you. “Easy, Princess. All I told them was that I’d want to work with you more. I didn’t think they’d put us together. But then again, why wouldn’t they want to keep their top guy happy?” He’s smug, the bastard. And you want more than anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Fine then.” You grab his hand and lead him to his personal locker room. “If we’re gonna do this, I want it to look real.” The smirk drops from his face as you toss the door open. He follows behind you and locks the door when you instruct him to. Since when did you start telling him what to do?

By the time he turns back around, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on the large sofa. You removed your jeans and panties, tossing the lacy garment his way. “I want you to eat me out, Champ.” Fuck, you’ve got him hooked already.

He makes his way over to you, getting on his knees to breathe in your delicious scent. His mouth is practically watering as he sucks hickies onto your thighs, eager to finally dig in to what he’s been denied so long. You thread your fingers through his ash blonde hair, slightly tugging. “Hurry, ‘Suki.” You whine. He wants to hear you beg more, but he knows he’ll get the opportunity to later on.

He dives right in, lapping up your juices before sucking your clit into his mouth. You gasp at the feeling, bucking your hips up against his face. He’s messy, he spits on your cunt before lapping it right back up along with your juices. “Fuck, ‘Suki. S’good. Please.” You cry out. “Please what, Princess? Gotta tell me what you want.” He mumbles into your cunt. “Fingers. Please. Want your fingers, baby.” As much as he wants to deny, the pet name does something to him, he can’t help but comply.

He coats two fingers in your essence before slowly pressing the middle one inside, curling the finger in search of that special spot. You whine at the feeling, cunt clenching around him. “Gotta open up, baby. Gotta let me stretch you out for my cock.” He coos at you, his voice a striking contrast to how he sounds when he addresses the masses. It’s then that you come to the revelation that he only addresses you like that. He’s never loud, never aggressive when he’s with you. You don’t know why, but it has your cunt dripping that he’s only like that with you.

He slides in another finger, working you closer to your orgasm, and when he finally puts that heavenly mouth back to work, you feel your cunt spasming, core clenching as your orgasm washes over you. He milks it for all your worth and keeps going, and before long you feel another orgasm rush through you, though this one feels more different than the first.

“‘Suki, wait! I’m gonna-” “Cum, cum for me again, baby. Want you to soak my face.” You cry out as you cum for the second time that night, squirting all over Katsuki’s face. You grind your cunt against him, his nose bumping your sensitive nub. He lets you ride it out, before finally pulling away, your juices dripping from his chin. He licks his lips before pressing a fiery kiss to your lips, allowing you to taste yourself.

You hum at the taste, but you’re eager for the real star of the show. You pull at his belt, signaling that you want his clothes off, and who is he to deny you? He takes off his pants, but unlike you, he keeps his shirt on seeing as the show was going to start soon. His cock bobs up against his abdomen and the tip is a pretty shade of pink, with a few veins along the sides. Of course he has a pretty dick.

He runs his cock along your cunt, bumping the tip against your clit a few times before slowly pressing inside. He sets a steady pace, checking to make sure you're okay before increasing his speed. Before long, the room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping, and fuck, you’re a sight. Your face is flushed, with pretty tears streaming down your face, he can’t help but want a taste, tongue licking your tears before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. He’s close, so fucking close, but he needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum f’me, baby. Cum for your champion.” And you do, your cunt clenched around his cock as you cum for a third time. You’re spent, but you want to feel him cum, want to feel him inside you during the show. You squeeze your cunt around him, eager to coax his orgasm from him. “Cum f’me, ‘Suki. Cum f’me, baby.” You know what the name does to him. Something so simple, yet so domestic just gets him ready to spill inside you. And he does, after a few more thrusts he’s cumming, the feeling of his seed filling you feeling so good, so warm.

You both stay connected for a moment, before you start to giggle. Bakugo’s head perks up at that, before joining you with a slight chuckle. “How long do you think before they realize we’ve been dating?” You ask, a dopey smile on your face. Katsuki kisses your cheek before answering, “I’d say a few weeks. You know I can’t keep my hands off you for too long. And now that I get to love on you in front of everybody, fuck yeah I’m gonna rub their noses in it.” You chuckle before pushing him off of you. “Alright, get me a towel. Show’s about to start.” “Yeah, you’ve got like 10 minutes.” “‘Suki!”

— —

Taglist: @xogabbiexo @kinq-sleazee @dabilovesme @sintiva @blkchxrryblyss @tenyaiidasslut @luna-indigoduh @bookwormsenpai @bl--ankhaeji @thicksimpx @namjoonswifeyy @nasty-quillz @haikyutiehoe @musicisme333 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @celi-xxmoon

#x chubby reader #anime x chubby reader #anime x black!reader #bnha x chubby reader #bnha x black!reader #bnha x reader #x black reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x black reader #x black fem reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader #pro wrestler!bakugo #bakugo x chubby reader #mha x chubby reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x plus size reader

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ddarker-dreams · 2 years

Note

The way id eat my own thumbs to know what the bucci gang would do if sr reader mentioned off hand that she wanted a boyfriend. Just hanging out with them on a balcony and she just offhandedly sighs “I wish that could be me!” when she sees a girlfriend giggling with her boyfriend outside I just think itd be silly

Note: better get the salt and pepper out because i loved this idea so much i had to write it . it'd be criminal not to. godspeed to your thumbs.

[Scarlet Ribbons Index]

Giorno

“I hadn’t realized you were interested in romantic relations, [First].”

Smooth and practical — Giorno Giovanna never wastes an opportunity. That's what he considers this to be, a rare opening into your psyche. He'll even take notice of what the boyfriend was doing the instant you decided to voice your thoughts. Gotta tuck that knowledge away for later. Most importantly, however, is your response to this inquiry. He won't follow up much at the time should you respond in the affirmative, but it'll make a solid foundation for his future plans. He's always a fan of asking open-ended questions to learn more about you. Observation can only prepare him for so much. Sometimes he has to roll up his sleeves and put himself out there more, if it means he could possibly win over your most sought-after heart.

Bruno

“... I’m sure there are many who’d be grateful to experience that with you.”

Bruno tries to remain blasé so as not to betray his inner feelings. Emphasis on the word tries. Really, if you were any less oblivious, you could've picked up on the borderline yearning timbre in his voice. He finds it equally reassuring and troubling that you're actively hoping to be in a relationship, to the point of voicing the desire out loud. It feels like a chance that, if he doesn't act swiftly enough, will pass him by. Bruno loves the others on his team dearly, but he knows how feral they'd start getting should they have been the ones you told this. You stress him out so much without even realizing it. At the end of the day, how can he be upset by this, when the mere thought of having you be his and him yours gets him through the most strenuous circumstances? You are his guiding light.

Fugo

“You want that? Don’t you see how he’s slobbering over her? Gross. A little self-respect goes a long way.”

No, he isn’t bitter, what are you talking about, psssh. Fugo always expresses his disgust over public displays of affection, finding it to be in poor taste. Some serious self-reflection would reveal he's beyond envious. It just... looks nice... so fun and carefree... then there's him. A guy who has been chasing after you for years by this point without ever having the courage to make a serious move, lest he risks ruining everything. He keeps trying to confess through telepathy, meanwhile, you think he must be annoyed since, from your perspective, it looks like he's glaring at you. Poor guy. The extremely subtle hints he drops and telepathy haven't gotten him far. Still, staring at your wistful expression when you confess this fills him with hope. This could be the push he needs to say what he's been wanting to say for so long.

Mista

“Well, have I got some good news for you.”

Mista is his own worst enemy. He wants to come across as casual enough to not pressure you into anything and make the atmosphere awkward, but by doing so, you have a difficult time taking him seriously. This genuine statement from Mista ends up coming across as another one of his jokes. You just kinda give him a light punch on the shoulder and laugh. Meanwhile, he's crying on the inside from yet another instance of you not picking up on his flirtations. What does a man have to do? Get down on one knee and propose while reciting a monologue? Now that he thinks about it, you'd still likely view it as a jest if he were the one to do it... alas. Being the funny person in the friend group has its pros and cons. Regardless of his mixed success in the moment, he'd still find comfort knowing you're interested in a relationship too.

Narancia

“What? You want to be a pigeon? Wait, that’s not what you're pointing at. Ohhhhh.”

A heart-pounding moment! Okay, okay, he needs to get himself to calm down. These hand-delivered moments by the universe are best approached with a steady mind, using logic and reason to deduce the next optimal step— who is he kidding! You want a boyfriend! He can be a boyfriend! So, by following this train of thought, you could potentially want him as a boyfriend. He'd later go on to reveal this revelation to Fugo who appears nowhere near as enthusiastic about the prospect as Narancia is. It doesn't matter. A fire has been lit beneath Narancia's feet and he's ready to get moving. He intends to boost his appeal and lure you in using the art of subtly. When he's talking to another and you enter the room, he'll switch the subject and then loudly discuss how single he is. Super single. Not in a romantic relationship whatsoever. Nope, nada. His eyes keep flicking to you to see if you've gotten the message. He tells himself in his heart that you did.

Abbacchio

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Abbacchio is ready to shame you for envying such an obnoxious, unnecessary display being flaunted in public. Unlike Fugo, Abbacchio holds a genuine resentment toward this sort of stuff and wishes people would get a room. He'd ask why you'd be interested in anything like that. From what he's seen over the years, it's relationships that people loudly flaunt that fizzle out the fastest. You're more amazed that Abbacchio of all people is entertaining an in-depth conversation about relationships to feel like he rained on your parade. He isn't nearly as selfish as he thinks himself to be. He tells you all this not just for his own benefit, but so that in the event you end up with someone else, you'll give these matters some serious thought. He won't ever admit that to himself, however. Deep down in his soul, he wishes for your happiness above all else. He writes this off by telling himself he just wanted to complain about something he's always had a pet peeve about.

#giorno x reader #bruno x reader #fugo x reader #mista x reader #narancia x reader #abbacchio x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #guido mista x reader #narancia ghirgha x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #vento aureo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #scarlet ribbons #answered #Anonymous

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fractualized · 7 months

Text

Alright. Let's break down this "oh" of an ending. NEGATIVE NANCY, COMING THROUGH

Spoilers, ho!

Ending a story is hard, if they're long or short. Whether you wrap up key threads or leave them open, you want some kind of takeaway that puts a period on things. Even in comics, where we know these characters will go on and on, ideally a story will end in a way that just... fits. Even amateur fic writers have loads of WIPs just sitting there because exactly how to end this damn thing eludes them.

I don't know if Rosenberg had an ending in mind when he started The Man Who Stopped Laughing. I don't know if he decided he'd figure it out by the end of it's year-long run. I don't know if DC Editorial lets people do that; it sounds insane, but if you've been paying attention to their current level of editorial "oversight," which I imagine is supposed to make concurrent titles mesh together reasonably well, I wouldn't be shocked if they let people wing it. Or, more likely, perhaps DC Editorial swooped in and made Rosenberg change the ending he had planned and that's why the result falls flat.

In any case, after 11 issues of enjoying myself, I'm left feeling deflated.

But let's start where #12 does, with the Joker who's been told he's John Keyser, a toxin'd henchmen that the real Joker made into a doppelganger for funsies. He approaches a hotdog vendor.

I'm stuck on "Hello. I've been looking for you"?? I didn't catch that on my first read. Joker has a favorite hotdog vendor? lol

Shut up, Waffles!! All we have is your word for it!!

In any case, hey, Keyser Joker has already been Jokering this long, so yeah, why not keep going? And why not with help from poor woobie Jason, fresh from nearly getting himself killed in Gotham War?

Bruce did not fix Jason at the end of Gotham War, so his adrenaline is still triggering fear in his brain. But Keyser Joker has a solution for that!

It's a tiny dose of Joker toxin to take the edge off of Bruce's programming. Joker makes a point of saying that the effects are only temporary, though. (And like, I assume this is just the quick-fix solution Rosenberg came up with to pull off his own ending when told Bruce's plans for Jason over in the other titles.) Jason is skeptical of this "help," naturally, but Keyser Joker brings up their matching interest: getting rid of the other Joker.

Jason, why you gotta ruin Albert's good time? 🙄

Cut to Red Hood dragging a clown henchman through the streets of Gotham.

But "his" face being blacked out and some of the dialogue clue the reader in: things aren't what they seem.

DERAIL TIME: what is up with this batmobile?

Like from some other angles, it looks sportier, but in most of the panels it looks like an old Buick? lol ANYWAY.

With the flaily way this person jumps off the bike and runs, I was sure that this was Keyser Joker and we might see Batman interact with him. Alas.

It's Ravager, who survived last issue's explosion. She's helping Jason 1) distract Batman and 2) get Albert out of harm's way, far from Keyser Joker's plan.

Naturally Keyser Joker is planning something more destructive than he's led Jason to believe. Also like…

The idea that Keyser Joker really is this John guy, not the real deal, is still not sitting fucking right with me. Seeing him here in another costume, with a goofy death train with mismatched eyes just like his, it feels like a signal that he actually is Joker and Waffles is either lying or mistaken somehow. Like compared to the other Joker, who we haven't seen in a costume? Who left Gotham for weird reasons? I really thought there was going to be a reverse reveal.

And since it doesn't come, I guess it's a good time to mention that! There is no reverse reveal of who the real Joker is. Things get a little muddy later, but…. hrm. HRM.

That said, the other Joker does something pretty dang Jokery: he shows up in a dirigible with his face on it.

Killer Moth and a bunch of clown goons (that aren't supposed to be available because of Gotham War but WHATEVER) attach the dirigible to the train and it's pretty chaotic!

I love when villains are like, "Look I may kill people, but an endangered gorilla?! Get outta here!" 😂

Jason also arrives in style.

I guess he was observing Ravager's distraction?? Which feels like it defeats part of the purpose of having her do the distraction. But then he couldn't have this cool entrance in which he bludgeons people with a motorcycle. Trade offs!

Meanwhile, Real Joker makes it to the front of the train to confront Keyser Joker. One of Real's goons offers to shoot Keyser, but Real Joker wants to make this personal and kills the poor hench so he can do it himself.

Jason coming in like YEEEEEAAAAHHHHH 😎

Then he gets the bad news.

Keyser is as casually suicidal as your average Joker! Also "Real" Joker never acknowledges Red Hood's identity, afaik. It's always Keyser Joker. Details like this got me thinking that reverse reveal was coming, AND YET.

That aside, next comes a fun comedy beat.

Real Joker going right for the hair!

Jason isn't going to let this be the end of it, of course, and once again Killer Moth must suffer at his hands.

Jason shoots so many clowns. Just never the one he wants. 😞

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaait wait wait. You're telling me that Bruce knew about the imminent TWO JOKERS situation. But he decided to prioritize a report of Red Hood dragging a clown through the streets. When in the same breath he's saying there are other people coming to the scene with him, so he obviously could've sent someone else? On the same day Batman #139 is like "oooh Bruce is totally onto Joker now"? This is what you're telling me?? Augh.

Well, we can't rely on Batman right now, clearly, so it's up to Jason.

Meanwhile, Keyser Joker has told the other one that he actually does have a secret way off the runaway train safely. After they fight some more, the tune starts to change.

Alright so, this "deal," which would sort of start them back at square one, doesn't bother me because obviously it's on shaky-ass ground and one of them is definitely killing the other before this issue is over. What does bug me is the "franchising" line, for two reasons:

1) Is this supposed to imply that Real Joker is the one who was behind Joker Incorporated in the Batman Incorporated issues, not a third one?

2) I was just SO SURE it was another indication we were getting a reverse reveal. Joker absolutely does not love the franchising idea. That's kind of been the point of this whole series. The genuine Joker in Keyser Joker's hallucination/memory said that having two Jokers around is stupid. HRRRRMMM.

Anyhow, they leave the train together, though the escape plan is literally just jumping off, which has more issues than they bargained for.

So do you think, assuming the Gotham War writers actually communicated at least a little, that Zdarsky asked Rosenberg what he needed Jason for at the end of TMWSL, and Rosenberg was like, "oh I need him to heroically crash a toxic blimp and almost die?" And then Zdarsky was like, "er, I need him to heroically fly a plane into a magic meteor and almost die?" And then they just shrugged and closed the Zoom?

But yeah, the blimp crashes, and I'm sort of confused because I thought that earlier Bruce was saying that even if the toxin gets into the water, it'll still make it's way to the city. So for one thing, it's still exploding in the air and it's still gonna drift. And the parts that dissolve in water are still gonna drift. There's a part to the equation missing here.

But these two are just thrilled at the excitement.

Until the sudden yet inevitable betrayal.

BUT WHO WAS JOKE

Shortly after this, Ravager shows up with Manhunter, who also survived last issue's explosion. (It just doesn't come up at all. Like it doesn't have to, I guess, but it's just weird that there's not a word or wound about it.) Ravager dives into the water looking for Jason, because she instinctually knows he did something grand and dumb. She finds him among the clown bodies and brings him to shore.

Nothing can kill this man! He came back from the dead with nine lives! And also maybe that Lazarus resin from TFZ is still helping, I dunno.

Elsewhere along the shore, what's left of both Jokers' crews find themselves waiting in the same spot for the Joker they expect to be triumphant.

You know what. I'm soured on Waffles now. Leave him.

And then, from the water…

And that's it. That's how it ends. With a sort of snide cop-out?

Like, it's Joker's POV, so yeah, you could say the dickish tone is just him. But following this story for a year, and then seeing it end with simply the old "you'll never know which Joker prevailed," it doesn't feel clever or whatever this is going for. It just feels obnoxious.

Honestly, it feels like the same takeaway as freaking Three Jokers. 😐 That it doesn't matter who Joker is. All the lead-up to this, where maybe we get a tiny bit of depth and development, even if just in this story, eh. Doesn't matter! We're ending this with blah payoff.

On the other hand, the part of about about there being more questions, about this ending not being tidy, makes me think that this is leaving open the possibility that Keyser Joker actually was the real one. After all, we don't get a flashback to the actual events. The events we see are part of a hallucination, and Keyser never said he had clear memories of being the real or the fake one. He just went from assuming he was the real one to taking Waffles' word for it that he was the henchman.

Also, Keyser Joker was always the Joker giving narration. And the narration boxes for the Final Joker at the end remain in his style. So it seems like we actually have a huge indication of which Joker prevailed-- unless we're meant to assume that if the other Joker prevailed, he merely took over the narration.

I mean, this is what we have. So if I can just choose what I want to believe, I'm going to believe both that Keyser was actually the real guy and that he won. But it puts a real sour taste in my mouth to be super engaged with a story and wanting an ending that says something about Joker's character… and the ending is just that one murders the other and you don't know who, neener neener. It's anticlimactic. It's a predictable direction that I thought SURELY Rosenberg wouldn't go in. It feels like a dick move.

And... what else is there to say? So ends my year of consistently buying a comic, I guess. Nothing else has really grabbed me like TMWSL did, though City of Madness looks promising. After the multiverse and Gotham War stuff, I'm not about to start picking up Zdarsky's Batman. #139 had plenty I should enjoy, but it's soured by Zdarsky deciding to bring a canonical take to the three Jokers concept for some ungodly reason.

A new three Jokers take feels extra stupid after a year of a story about two Jokers. And the second Joker in TMWSL isn't even taken into account in Zdarsky's story. Based off that #135 scene, it really looks like he's going to say that Darwin Halliday accidentally copied TKJ Joker somehow. lmao Why. Why do we have to do this. Why can't this just be one of the things that gets retconned away. I just want my murderclown to be fun.

I need to get back to my list of unread older comics. Or read One Operation Joker! I didn't think I was interested, but I think a random goofy premise is actually just what I need.

#the man who stopped laughing #joker #spoilers #my jibber-jabber #sorry for being a downer

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