#bo burnham imagine

[storiesforallfandoms]

look at me ~ bo burnham

word count: 2323

request?: yes!

“so you already know that inside: the outtakes has gotten so many people back into their bo thing. me included. sooooo i was thinking, he’s a big guy, ya know👀 so my lil brain was doin some thinkin (not at all while horny) and it came up with this: bo fucking you in front of a mirror!! he’s holding you up, fucking you from behind, saying things like ‘look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock’. just, please please please do your thing and make this something great🥹”

description: after a long day of filming his special, he finds himself pent up and wanting to release his aggressive sexual energy, so he decides to take his girlfriend in the first place he finds her: in the bathroom in front of the mirror

pairing: bo burnham x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two, three)

Bo had a lot of feelings surrounding the filming of his quarantine special. At first he was upset over having to cancel his plans of returning to live performances, but then the idea of filming, editing, directing, lighting, etc., his own special seemed exciting. And getting back into writing comedy felt almost therapeutic. The longer quarantine went on, though, the more his mental health struggled. He was enjoying creating, but he hated that this was how he had to create. And he hated how much he struggled to make everything perfect.

But more than anything, he was unbearably horny. To a point where he was writing extremely horny bits into the special.

It was his own doing really. Bo would spend every day - from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep - working on the special. Most nights, that was late enough that his girlfriend, (Y/N), would be fast asleep. Other nights, he felt too mentally exhausted to try and initiate sex.

He felt guilty for the quality time he was losing with her by working all day, but (Y/N) was incredibly supportive. She would check on him every day to make sure he was doing okay, occasionally bringing him food so he would eat. She’d get him to take little break every now and then before going back to long hours of working on the special. Bo felt extremely grateful to have her in his life. But man, did he ever miss being intimate with her.

He was sat in this guest house one evening, editing his most recent bit, which was a song about sexting. His mind was on (Y/N) as his own voice played through the speakers. He thought about how badly he wanted to hold her, feel her body against his, her warm walls around him. His horniness was definitely trickling into his work and it was something he needed to fix soon or else he felt like he might explode.

Bo stood and looked out the window that faced towards his house. He could see a light on in the room that belonged to him and (Y/N), signaling that she was still awake. He quickly rushed out of his guest house, leaving the unedited song running.

(Y/N) was in the ensuite bathroom getting ready for bed. She had peaked out to the guest house to check on Bo. The lights were off besides a dull blue light that she assumed was Bo editing another bit. She had sighed to herself before going to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. As proud as she was of Bo for working on this special all on his own, she really did miss getting to spend time with him. Their bed felt too empty without him.

She was leaned over the sink, washing her face, when she suddenly felt two arms wrap around her. She let out a yelp and stood up quickly to see Bo’s towering figure behind her in the mirror. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, lightly kissing the area, causing her heart to flutter for a different reason.

“Hey,” she said. “You finished up early tonight.”

“I can’t standing being away from you anymore,” he responded. “It’s getting too hard to not have you in my arms.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s hard,” she teased.

Bo chuckled and grinded his hard, clothed dick against her. “You got me there.”

He continued to kiss her neck as he pressed himself against her. She lulled her head to the side, giving him more access to her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed. His hands moved from around her waist, one going upwards to cup one of her breasts and the other moving down between her legs. Her breath hitched as he teased the waistband of her pajama pants.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his hot breath fanning over her ear in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. She nodded in response. “I need to hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, please Bo.”

Bo grinned and nibbled on her ear as his hand dipped under her waistband. He ran a finger through her folds, teasing her clit with a feather-light touch.

“You’re already so wet,” he whispered. “Desperate for me to you, baby?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) whimpered. “I’ve missed your touch so much.”

“I’ve missed touching you. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed having you. I think about being inside of you practically every waking moment, and when I’m sleeping too.”

She moaned as he finally applied pressure to her clit. He rubbed slow circles into the bundle of nerves as he continued to kiss over her neck. He nipped at the sensitive skin, leaving red marks in his wake that he really hoped would turn into hickies. There was something so hot to him about marking (Y/N) in a way that other people would see and know she was his. He slipped his hand under her shirt to cup and knead at her breasts, one at a time, making her nipples pop out underneath his fingers.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess; putty in Bo’s hands. He was essentially holding her up at that point as she was leaning back against him, her legs wobbling to a point where she wasn’t sure she could stay up much longer.

“Are you close already?” Bo asked. “I can feel you trembling.”

“I-I’m s-so close,” she said.

“Open your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me while you cum.”

She pried her eyes open to look into the mirror. Bo’s eyes were staring back at her, dark with lust. It was hard to keep them open as her orgasm washed over her. Her legs just about gave out from under her as she cried out. Bo held her, smirking to himself as she trembled in his arms. He whispered praises into her ear as she came down from her high.

“I need you,” he whispered. “Right here, baby, please.”

“The bed is just a few steps away,” she teased.

“I can’t wait. I’m a slight breeze away from cumming in my pants.”

She giggled and turned her head to kiss him. She reached back to run her hands through his long hair. At first, she wasn’t a fan of the idea of Bo growing out his hair and facial hair, but now, with his beard leaving a tickling sensation in its wake and his long hair giving her something to hold on to, she suddenly loved it.

Bo broke away from the kiss to shove (Y/N) down over the bathroom counter. He pulled her pants and underwear down around her ankles, helping her to step out of them and kicking them off to the side. He let his own pants fall to the floor as well, his hard dick springing free from his pants. He took it in one hand and ran it through (Y/N)’s drenched folds, collecting her slick to use as his own lube. (Y/N) bit down on her lip as she whimpered, but couldn’t contain her moans once Bo pushed the head of his dick against her entrance. He easily slid his cock into her, slowly moving inwards until he was buried at the hilt inside of her. He dropped his head against her back, groaning at the sensation. It was a feeling he had been longing for, and now that he had it he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to last.

He slowly pulled himself out halfway before slowly thrusting back into her again. The head of his dick so easily nudged her g-spot that it made her already shaky legs even more wobbly every time he thrust inwards. She held on to the counter, digging her nails into it with such a grip that she thought she was going to break the counter.

Bo kissed over (Y/N)’s neck and what he could reach of her face again. “Can I start fucking you, princess?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Bo took that as enough of an answer for him this time and started thrusting into her at a quicker speed. He held on to her hips as he slammed into her, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the room. (Y/N)’s mind went blank, the only thing she could think of being Bo, Bo, Bo! She cried out his name, a sound more beautiful than any song Bo had ever heard.

“I might not last long,” he told her. “Do you think you can give me one more before I shoot this hot load inside you, baby?”

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It became a chant, like that was the only word she knew.

Bo smiled and put his hand around her throat, pulling her up so that she was flush against his chest. He continued thrusting at his brutal pace while reaching his other hand between her legs to rub her clit again.

“Look at how much of a pretty little whore you are for my cock,” he said. “God, you look so fucking hot, falling apart for me like this.”

Her eyes were rolling in the back of her head, which clearly was not what Bo wanted. He squeezed her throat slightly, just enough to block her airways and make her lightheaded.

“I said look at me,” he growled into her ear. She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. He smiled at her. “Good girl. Look how fucking good you look, all cock drunk for me like this.”

Her eyes were hooded, threatening to close again, and her mouth was in a permanent “O” shape as her body bounced with every thrust. Bo looked like a man on a mission, watching her face intently as he rubbed ruthlessly at her clit and thrusted hard into her. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, a sight which just drove her further over the edge.

She didn’t have to tell him this time that she was close. Actually, she didn’t even have time to tell him. Her second orgasm hit her quickly and intensely. Her vision clouded for a moment and her entire body felt heavy. Bo wrapped an arm around her lower stomach, keeping her up for his last few thrusts before he also hit his own climax. He buried his head in her neck again, muffled groans tumbling from his lips as he gave a few more shallow thrusts.

They were both panting and sticky with sweat once they finally started coming down from their highs. Bo was reluctant to pull out, but he could feel himself becoming soft and slipping from between her legs. (Y/N) gasped as she felt the hot trail of cum running down her legs.

“Let me clean you up so you can finally lay down,” Bo said.

He reached past her to grab the face cloth she had been using early and ran warm water over it again. Turned her so she was facing him and knelt down in front of her to wipe her legs and between them. He planted a kiss on both of her inner thighs, causing her to twitch a little from overstimulation. When he stood again, he discarded the cloth onto the floor and took (Y/N) into his arms. She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to bed.

He laid her down first before crawling into bed next to her. He took her into his arms, reveling in the feeling of her warm body against his. It had been so long since they had been able to fall asleep together. He rarely tried to cuddle her when he came into bed after she had fallen asleep in fear that he would wake her.

“Are you done working for the night then?” (Y/N) asked, her voice soft and sheepish.

“Definitely,” he decided. “This takes so much more precipitant than working on that stupid special.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid. I think it’s going to be really good.”

Bo chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “You haven’t even seen any of it.”

“I saw that one that was a parody of Drake’s music.”

“Eh, I’m thinking of cutting that one. I don’t even like it all that much.”

“Don’t do that! It’s my favorite one!”

He squeezed her slightly and kissed her again. “Okay, no promises, but I’ll try my best to put it in.”

“Thank you.”

They laid in silence for a while. It was quite comforting. Bo never wanted to leave the bed. He just wanted to hold (Y/N) and lay here in the dark and silence.

“I miss this,” (Y/N) whispered into the silence.

Bo sighed. “Me too. I promise I’ll try not to work too late so that we can have these moments more often. And I promise I’ll try to finish the special soon so that I’m not working on it at all anymore.”

“You don’t have to finish it soon if you don’t feel it’s ready, but I would prefer it if you were here in bed with me when I fell asleep at night. It’s not the same to fall asleep in a lonely bed all by myself.”

“I promise. Now get some sleep. I can tell you’re fighting off the unconsciousness.”

(Y/N) shook her head and smiled to herself. Of course he was right, she felt exhausted now after their bathroom activities. Being curled in his warm embrace didn’t help that matter either. She settled herself next to him and closed her eyes, letting the sleep take hold of her. Bo wasn’t too far behind, placing one last kiss on the top of her head before closing his eyes and letting himself drift off to sleep.

#bo burnham #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham smut #imagine #one shot #request #smut #rpf #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[pseudonympls]

Taking Centre Stage

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only.

Era: Eighth Grade Era AU where Bo becomes a theatre director.

CW: explicit sex. sex on a piano. fingering. unprotected sex but he pulls out. sex on a stage but the theatre is empty. theatre-director!bo. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. very-soft-dom!bo

Bo Burnham x AFAB Reader. She/her pronouns.

Word count: 5k

A/N: I procrastinated writing Love Blooms by writing this...idk what to tell you other than I clearly have A Problem™️

Thanks to @oh-bo for this find and the gorgeous edit 🥰🖤

* * *

Sighing, you walked through the wings, noting the sheer height of the ceiling, the pulleys connecting the curtains to the master carrier. You peeked around the luxurious velvet, seeing the theatre completely empty. The rumbling in your belly told you that it was time for dinner, but it was a signal you blithely ignored, opting for a slow, steady tour throughout the theatre you would be calling home for the next few months. How you thrived on being on stage; the attention; the nerves; the adrenaline. Fuel to your frankly dwindling fire, as of late.

With jobs few and far between recently, you told yourself you should be grateful to receive any kind of work at all - even if it went largely unpaid. It lined your pockets with experience and kudos from the local art critics, instead, a currency you were sorely lacking in. Now centre stage, you felt huge - massive even. On a stage with no audience, anyone could be a star. Taking a deep breath, the scale of things came back into focus, the far reaching, impossibly high circle up ahead, intricate gold and red appliqué that lined the walls, the ceiling - a throwback to the extravagance and overindulgence of the 1920’s. How the past one hundred years had weathered this building: wars had been fought, styles had slid in and out of fashion - but the appeal, the draw of decadence of years gone by still held fast, still pulled at a thread in your chest, drawing you inexplicably nearer to chaos.

Lazily walking over to the black baby grand centre left stage, your fingers grazed the propped up lid. Lifting the fallboard your fingers felt magnetised toward the keys. Your hand assumed the position, finding middle C, the piano lessons you’d had as a child flooded back to your brain. The thrumming in your head was so loud, that you didn’t hear the tentative footsteps behind you, not until the owner of them cleared their throat loudly.

Adrenaline shot up your spine as you whirled around, one of the impossibly tall, blond theatre directors was leaning against the wing - a smug smile plastered across his face. 

“I thought this place was shut for the night” he mused, not moving from his position, his prepotant stance keeping you frozen in place, too.

It was the theatre director from the audition, the one with the kind eyes. On closer inspection, he was a feast for the eyes, as well. At least six foot six, lanky but with a gentle grace about him - short but lightly ruffled blond locks, and a quarter inch of delicious stubble wrapped around his jaw. His lower half was draped in simple black jeans that he made look anything but simple. A thin, white button up shirt covered his top half, dangerously see through - and if you’d have known better, you’d have tried harder to avoid the plum shadows on his chest where his nipples lay beneath the fabric. 

“M-me too, s-sorry” you stuttered through the words “I told security that I was starting a production next week and I-um, just wanted to see the place empty, I guess” 

“That’s right, our leading lady, is that correct?” He cocked his head to the side, his disposition clear, cool and calm. Stark contrast to your jangling nerves, the way they shook and trembled every pore in your skin. 

A flicker of recognition fluttered through your chest, “Y-yeah, you-you remembered?” 

He scoffed, shaking his head lightly “how could I forget the audition with the monologue from that British show, Fleabag, wasn’t it?”  

You swallowed deeply, casting your mind back to the audition - the terribly hot, sticky afternoon spent sweating it out in your trash heap of a car, hands slick on the steering wheel - willing yourself to go into the theatre. Small steps, you had told yourself. First: unbuckle your seatbelt, then, open the car door. Before you knew it you’d be on stage, at your first audition in months, perhaps even coming up to a year now? The thought trickled like battery acid through your mind, numbing every one of your atoms into a stillness - maybe then, you’d at least stop sweating. 

You breezed through their script like a dream. You had spent the last week poring over it like it contained the cure for cancer, after all, so it wasn’t any surprise when the directors nodded slightly, and made notes on their pads of paper in front of them - the blond on the left pausing only to whisper something in the casting directors ear.

“And now it’s time to show us what you’re made of”, the art director said, gesticulating wildly with her hands “Get creative, show us why you’re right for this role, for this company, convince us that you’re the one for us. Your quirks, your personality - hell - even your flaws, we want to see them” her frigid smile inspired little confidence - her cold demeanour sent chills up your spine, and not the positive kind, but the blond to her left had kind eyes, and it was all you could do to avoid his gaze as you spiralled into your tirade.

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning.” you shook your head, a slanted smile pulled at your lips, as you waited the appropriate beat for the other character's line that would never come. “No, I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like. What to hate. What to rage about. What to listen to. What band to like. What to buy tickets for.” you shook your head with every other word, getting faster and faster as you spoke, your legs trembled on the stage, betraying your nervousness - hoping it would come off as in-character, intrinsic to her floundering. “What to joke about. What not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to...tell them” your bottom lip quivered - right on cue - you thought, pulling the words from the deep recesses you had hidden them, just as you had hid the blindsiding sorrow of finding your pet bunny - Forest - dead at the tender age of seven. Just as you had quashed those dreaded memories of mother calling you up in the dead of night, to tell you that grammy had passed after her long battle with cancer. The silence rang loud in your ears as you left a pause, and you didn’t dare look back at the table below the stage. “I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far, I think I’ve been getting it wrong.” you bit back tears, just enough to make it believable. “And I know that’s why people want someone like you in their lives, because you just tell them how to do it.” you curled your lip, letting some of your own iron tasting bitterness flow out, a peek of yourself shine through the lies “You just tell them what to do, and what they’ll get out of the end of it, even though I don’t believe your bullshit” you pointed your finger like a dagger toward your invisible stage partner and hissed the final few words “and I know that scientifically nothing that I do makes any difference in the end, anyway, I’m still scared. Why am I still scared?” you gave up hiding the tears now, the restraint gone, the scene almost done, you let them spill down your cheeks, almost in relief “So just, tell me what to do. Just fucking tell me what to do, Father.”

Their response hadn’t filled you with confidence, a wry smile had spread across the blond’s face, but the other two’s expressions remained stony, totally unreadable.

“Th-thats right” you blushed under his scrutiny, one-on-one seeming so much more anxiety inducing than three-on-one. He took a pause, and you couldn’t help but think that he was running your audition back through his mind - how your face had dropped as you exited the stage - how you had thought you were making an utter fool of yourself. You were more than surprised when you got the call back - astounded even, that they’d taken a punt on such a wild card.

He didn’t linger on the matter, as he folded his arms and nodded his head at the baby grand next to you “Do you play?”

Taken aback, for a moment you wondered what he meant, until reality dissolved back in around you “Piano? Oh, I used to, y-years ago, not for a long time now, though” your voice quietened as you spoke, your confidence dwindled with the volume.

“Just as well your character doesn’t play then, I suppose” he joked, a pithy attempt to lighten the air - lift the atmosphere.

“Oh, absolutely, to say that I’m rusty would be an overstatement” you threw back, and the resulting silence bit the air like the cool breeze of the air-con that filled the stage. A beat passed, and he unfolded his arms - just as you noticed how obscenely long they were, how long all of him was, he walked toward you, making light work of the several feet between you both.

“How about we do a little rehearsal, while we’re here? Hmm?” he clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms slightly.

“I…um” you paused, feeling a little surprised. You did not imagine rehearsing today, but, always eager to please, you travelled to the closet in your mind where the script for the show was kept, and agreed on it, “Y-yes sir”. 

He chuckled darkly “Please, just call me Bo,” and you hid the somersaulting of your belly, as you slid into character: the ailing belle, long suffering wife of the brute, who would come to an untimely end. “Please, you’re hurting me, your negligence hurts me, whether or not you mean it doesn’t fucking matter, I’m withering over here” you pressed your fingers into your chest for emphasis, inwardly cringing at the scene Bo had chosen - knowing how it ended.

“Doll, I’m gonna need you to shut the fuck up, I’ve had it up to here” Bo lifted a large hand to his brow “With your shit.” he followed the blocking and went to turn around, before doubling back and squaring up to you “You know, there’s only so much a man can take before-” 

“Ryan, please, we need to talk about this, talk it out, I’m sure we can make it work someho-” Bo made eye contact seconds before he interjected, preparing you. 

“Fuck no, I’ve fucking had it, shut the fuck up!” he screamed in your face “or else I’ll make you” - he startled you, his sheer size, raw energy and charisma sent warmth between your legs in a way you could have never anticipated. His blue eyes, once calm and kind - radiated a passion, a hate, so strong it elicited almost a real fear response from you. 

“Ryan, please,” you whimpered after him, crossing the breadth of the stage in your begging, and suddenly, the heat of the day crashed down on you, the lack of food in your belly made you lightheaded. It was all you could do not to collapse on stage right there and then.

Breaking character, Bo turned around, his gait returning to his soft, natural state - not the hypermasculine, defensive stance that Ryan took on. “That was great, but um, could you give me a bit more?” 

You faltered for a split second, before nodding slowly, and took a few deep breaths in order to immerse yourself in the role completely. “Ryan please, please just listen to me” you continued, trying desperately to inject more emotion into the words, into your performance.

Bo resumed Ryan’s toxic stance, and continued walking away from you, but briefly turned around as Bo whispered “More!” out of the corner of his mouth.

“We’re fucking done, do you hear me? All this bullshit” Bo paused, “You, pretending that you love me - and me, pretending that you’re all I’ll ever need, all I’ll ever want, practically forcing me into another girl’s arms. Well I’ve had enough of it, I’ve had enough of you, Jess. We’re done”

“Ryan please, I’m-” you paused, willing the tears to begin flowing, your knees dropped to the floor so hard they’d likely be bruised, but your weary mind wouldn’t allow the pain to bleed through your mind - not during the performance, “I’m pregnant”.  

“Give it some more, I know you can do it” Bo’s voice was encouraging, but there was an edge to it now, sharp as a blade.

“Ryan please!” you screamed, “I’m pregnant” you forced the tears from their hiding place, but they felt wrong, premature. A hot blush crept across your cheeks as you felt his gaze settle on your head.

“More!” Bo chanted, his voice heavy with demand.

That’s when you crumbled, “I’m sorry-I-I can’t!!” You screamed, tears now smattering your cheeks and chin with their downpour. 

“Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry” Bo saw through the madness and knelt beside you, “I should’a known better not to push you, especially during an unofficial rehearsal like this, fuck” he swore undreneath his breath again as his palms came to your shoulders.

“Are-are you okay?” he sighed, “To be honest, you’re such a good actor I can barely tell what is acting and what is real, if-if that makes you feel any better” he laughed breathily, and you finally plucked up the courage to look at him instead of the ground.

“I’m-” you breathed “I’ll be okay” you half smiled at him, letting your heartbeat return to normal, and the adrenaline to still its course in your veins.

You both stood up, knees aching from the ground, and you finally made eye contact. His blue eyes searched yours for the truth, before settling on an idea “Will ice cream make it better? Ice cream always makes things better” he sighed with a smile, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, teetering from one foot to the other. 

“Y-yeah, I guess, sorry, I don’t usually get this emotional” you stilled your palm against your roaring chest, feeling your heartbeat finally resembling a normal rhythm.

“N-no it’s good, it’s an incredibly emotional role, and that was exactly the kind of emotion I was looking for but…I feel like I’ve just fucking pulled a Stanley Kubrick on the set of The Shining…or something” he wrenched a hand out of his pocket and pressed it to his face, his expression strained with frustration.  

“N-no, Bo - I’m fine - really I am” you reached out to lower his hand from his face - and it made pinpricks of electricity erupt all over the contact points. You froze again like a deer in the headlights when you realised what you’d done. “I’m sorry” 

His own breath hitched in his throat “No, it’s okay” 

The tension had built between you both like fog on a winter morning, kept you surrounded until neither of you could see anything but one another. He eclipsed everything else, and despite being the only other person in the room, you felt like that may become a permanent feeling - even with the theatre full to the rafters. His other hand reached for yours, circling his fingers around your wrist he lowered both his and your hand down “Is this okay…” his eyes punctuated the question.

“Y-yes” your voice caught on the word, hoarse with the rising atmosphere you had cultivated between you both. His grip loosened a little on your wrist as he filled the gap between you both in one long stride. 

“Is this okay?” He sighed, and you could almost taste the sweet tang of his last coffee on his breath. Words weren’t an option, and you answered his question with your kiss. Your neck unnaturally tilted upward to meet his lumbering height, his lips responded in kind, searching, pulling and pushing, as his hands found the safety of your waist. At this proximity you could smell his scent; deep, woody and faintly floral, noticing that only this close could you breathe it in - it felt intimate, close, like he was wearing it for you and you alone. Startled by his hands, you took a step back, and he followed you gladly, step after step until you’d likely fall off the edge of the world together, and in all honesty - you wouldn’t mind.

Instead, your lower back found the baby grand, an innocent bystander to your tryst - Bo pressed you harder into the piano, and it didn’t budge, didn’t even make a sound against your bodies, quickly becoming entangled against the instrument. Bo’s hand found your hair, gripping into it harshly, before releasing you. He pulled apart from you only briefly as his eyes looked up toward the piano with devilish intent. Separating from you for a moment he made short work of the lid, lowering it quickly and quietly. He turned back to you and bruised your lips with a kiss, before his arms gripped your waist, and with a squeal, he lifted you on to the baby grand.

Childish grins spread between you both as he walked in between your legs, before a dark cloud rolled in over his features. “I-I don’t do this very often, I don’t, uhm” he bowed his head, partly in shame “I don’t have a condom” a blush stained his cheeks as his mouth tilted into a grimace. Normally, you wouldn’t be so reckless, but the thought that if you didn’t have him now - that you never would - just about consumed you entirely. 

“It’s-its okay, you can just pull out” you relented, giving into your urges, so entirely caught up in the moment - in him.

“Is it fucked up, that I wanted you to say that?” he smirked, shades of shame still colouring his expression.

“N-no” you stuttered, as he flashed a dazzling smile up to you, before his hands found new pathways to traverse beneath your waist.

You fought back a heady sigh as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, “Ohshit” He breathed as his fingers parted your folds. “You’re soaked, sweetie” he marvelled - and it pained you to admit how much that little smidge of praise heated you further.

“I-I don’t do this very often, either” you admitted behind your own blush, your voice straining on the final word as Bo sank two fingers deep into you.

“Fuck, that feel good?” you quivered on his fingers - so sublimely thick and long, that your mind wandered to what else may hold such qualities.

“Mmhmm” you nodded, your eyelids threatening to shut out the scene unfolding in front of you. Bo, towering over you even with your hips propped up on the piano - his tongue pressed into his bottom lip in concentration as he finger fucked you on the baby grand. The whole theatre, spread out before you both, completely empty, not a soul to be seen, as you were spread before Bo just as eagerly, he - the only audience to your performance. 

“N-no, tell me how good it feels,” Your eyelids snapped open, to see Bo’s gaze squarely on you, an impish quality to his eyes, the mischievousness he had hidden so well - until now.  Suddenly any vocabulary fell out of your head as he increased his pace. “How about this, then?” His elbow moved back slightly as he changed angle, his wrist crooked, his fingers rocking against the tender spot inside of you, pushing a gasp from your lungs for good measure. “How’s that?” he teased. 

“I-uhhmmmn” you managed, as he slowed it down to a pace that was wholly unsatisfying, your hips straining against the pressure.

“Come on, don’t be shy, I’ve seen how you are with words, why don’t you run that pretty little mouth, huh?” he coaxed, and you turned your head to look away from him - from the entire situation, as you finally found your voice.

“God that feels so fucking good” You blurted out, any thought was knocked out of your mind as you spat out a pure description of how he was making you feel.

“Alright then” he whispered, and cruelly removed his fingers from you. You’re sure you must’ve looked comical, spread on that piano, mouth aghast with his cruel removal of his hand - it was with the last remaining tinge of shame that you didn’t chase his fingers with your lips.

“P-please” you whined, fingertips sliding on the varnished wood behind you, unsure of just how much more teasing you could take. 

He closed in on you, pulling your form against him with one hand - lifting your behind off the piano for but a moment, just long enough to relieve you of your underwear.

“Don’t worry sweetie,” He swiftly undid his jeans button, the tautness of the zipper sliding down by itself did nothing to allay your burgeoning anticipation. Your mouth hung open, and you had to suck in the small pool of saliva that collected there, before it slid down your chin. The grating sound of the zipper sliding open seemed to echo around the theatre, and it was all you could hear as your cunt clenched in anticipation of what was to come. His thumbs found the waistband and pushed gently down, exposing his light grey boxer briefs, and your eye was drawn to the dark patch that bloomed near the apex of his thighs, you felt yourself shiver from within to even look at it. 

You should have known better - the guy was over six and a half feet tall, one of his fingers equalled two of yours - it was a matter of proportion that he’d also have a freakishly large cock. The impending reveal set off a chain reaction of panic that exploded across every inch of your body. You were about to see it unclothed, and in the flesh. Once the jeans and his underwear were around his ankles, you would have done well to have extra support on that piano - because you almost fell off of it. It had been so long since you’d even had sex, nevermind with someone as well endowed as Bo - you swallowed hard, and he must’ve seen the trepidation written all over your face.

“H-hey,” his fingertips came to your chin, pulling up your gaze to his eyes. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just-just” you glanced down to the bulk of him, standing proud in the gap between you.

“We can stop if you want to,” he breathed, and his cock gave a gentle bob - if almost in agreement. 

Suddenly, with those words on his lips, stopping was the last thing on your mind. You shook your head “no” and pulled him in for a harsh kiss, managing to whisper up against his lips “Just be gentle with me, okay?” 

With a groan, Bo whispered into your mouth “Fuck, okay” 

Your thighs hugged him close, almost through necessity as he lined himself up. You thanked god for artists’ ability to multitask as he slowly bit up your neck - nothing that a good splash of makeup couldn’t cover - plenty of it - actually, as he delivered one particularly bruising nick to the tender flesh of your throat. Teasingly, temptingly, he drew what felt like a figure eight on your throbbing pussy, grazing your clit with one swoop and dipping into your entrance with the next. His other hand found your behind and pinched it for good measure as he braced himself - and you - as he eased inside. Ever thankful for the acoustics, your helpless scream echoed around the theatre, bouncing off the seats, the concession stands and the walls, before making its way back to you - the absence of bodies in the room that would usually soak up the sound, created a gigantic echo chamber. “You sound so fucking pretty, echoing around the room like that” Bo grunted, still not even half way in “But I need you to be louder,” he breathed deep, barely moving “They can’t hear you in the back row” he muttered into your ear as his hips snapped his full length into you - your scream satisfying his request as he stretched your insides out so thoroughly, so harshly.

“That’s better” he praised, sending sharp shoots of pleasure up and down your spine. Sweat coated both of your bodies, even as the air conditioner blew fresh licks on to your exposed skin, you willed it to cool, to feel some semblance of relief. Bo’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ as he gazed down to where your bodies joined, how obscenely full you must’ve looked, stretched to the max, but he only breathed out a puff of air, seemingly in satisfaction, as he brought one hand up to push at your chest. “Lean back, sweetie, you’ll only fall down later, anyways” he smirked, and you heeded his request, letting your elbows sink further into the polished wood - the wet marks where your palms had been aiding in your descent. The new angle tested your every boundary, it felt like he was pushing your internal organs around, so stuffed full of him that with one wrong move - you’d surely burst open. “I-I know I can be a lot…for-for some people” he started, his voice more nasally now than before, more strained. “But I knew when you walked across that stage at your audition, I had a feeling you were something special” one of his hands remained on your hip, his grip not faltering as the other came up to your face. His long, pale fingers gripped your chin, “Look at me while I fuck you, sweetie” 

You did just that as his hand left your face, trailing down your body, lifting up your t-shirt just enough to graze along your nipples - and you thanked past-you for neglecting to put on a bra that morning. Heavy hands made light work, as his fingertips slipped past your belly button and down to your core. His thumb brushed up against your clit, and you tensed at the feeling, tendrils of pleasure wound through your body, emanating from that spot between you both. “P-please” you begged, your body tensed, ready for everything and anything he would give it - fully on the edge.

Starting with slow circles that practically had you bucking up against him, his hips began the dance slowly emptying you, and then - with precise control, filling you once more, his thumb exacting devastatingly precise pressure on that sweet spot. His thumb began to quicken, every pass pushing another sweet moan from your mouth, and sent it echoing around the room. His composure began to falter, the way his hair stuck to his forehead, the feathering of his jaw, all an indication of his restraint.

“P-please, Bo, I’m gonna c-” but you had spoken too late, his thrusts got shorter, more erratic and his thumb must’ve been numb from the movement but you couldn’t think about that, couldn’t think about anything as your orgasm took hold - wrapping you in its warm embrace - the pumping of blood through your ears was the only thing you could hear, the faint cries leaving your lips sounded as if they were in another room - wholly separated, and yet nearby. Your vision returned to seeing Bo panting above you, his hand resting on your pussy, thumb off the throttle for one moment - he scrunched his eyes shut as he saw you come-to, and returned to massaging your clit as he relentlessly pounded into you. “N-no Bo, I can’t-can’t do it”

“Yes you can, sweetie, come on, for me” his words were feather light, but his tone was demanding, and you struggled under the weight of him. Your body bristled with the tension of yet another peak, building rapidly - your hand came to grip Bo’s wrist, still working against you, but instead of removing his hand, you kept it there - every atom in your body was begging for it to stop, the overstimulation too much, but you had never been a quitter. This time you kept your eyes open, willed your vision to remain, to stay present so that you could look at him, feel all of him, every facet. It seemed impossible, almost painful, but he sent you over the precipice once again, and then all of a sudden you were falling, drifting through a second peak much stronger than the last. Clenching so hard on him that he released a strangled moan, and he tried his hardest to fuck you through your second orgasm, the pleasure roiling through your body like a hurricaine - and then he gave in.

Your hand acted before you even had time to realise, as you pushed the fabric of your skirt up and out the way, and he took his cue. He pumped inside you once, twice more, his hips struggled, when finally he pulled out of you - even his massive hand looked small in comparison to what he was working with, as he spilled hot ropes of come on to your stomach. You instinctively sat up, hoping to help with the effort, but he kept his eyes firmly on you, on your heaving chest, your body - spread for him on the piano, as he emptied onto your belly. His face was flushed, contorted with his pleasure, and you before him, doubly thankful for his abundance.

When the white-hot peak subsided, Bo rustled around in his jeans pocket, bunched up around his ankles “Apparently, I don’t carry condoms, but I do carry tissues?” he chuckled under his breath as he ripped one out of the packet and began cleaning you up. “Here, let me-” he scooped you up off the piano, and - more shakily than before, lowered you to the ground. He knelt down as if to retrieve something, and words were stolen from your mouth as he remained on the floor. He found your panties, discarded beneath the piano and looked up at you “One foot” he whispered, sliding the wet lace up one leg, “Other foot” he answered himself as you raised the other foot off the floor to allow him to re-dress you. Astounded by his sweetness, the generosity after the carnality, you laughed out of sheer surprise, and his expression took a downturn. “S-sorry, just thought it’d be nice to-uh-give you a hand” he rose from his knees, slowly surpassing your own height and once again, your neck began to ache from the difference.

“N-no, I wasn’t laughing at you,” you began, shifting from one foot to the next, nervously. “It was lovely, I mean-I know I said I don’t do this” you gestured wildly to yourself, to him, to the room at large  “a lot, but when I have, guys have been, uhm, less than gracious about getting the fuck outta the situation” 

The light flicked back on in Bo’s eyes again, the sweetness returned.  “Do you still wanna go for that ice cream?” he said, the pink blush finally receding from his cheeks.

“I would kill for ice cream, right now, actually” you swept your sweaty bangs from your brow, collecting yourself amidst the fervour that was the last hour - your body sweet but your mind fizzled with electricity, abuzz with possibility, with what your first rehearsal would bring. 

#bo burnham #bo burnham fanfic #bo burnham fanfiction #bo burnham smut #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham/reader #bo burnham imagine #microfic

[bella-pascal]

i just want y’all to know, if you talk shit on anything i post, i will respond. i don’t give two fucks if i embarrass you. if you took time out of your day to comment rude shit on my posts, you can take time out of your day to go fuck yourself.

#eddie munson x reader #harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #bo burnam inside #bo burnham #bo burnham fluff #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things imagine

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

They’re all at Tesco’s at the same time

#imagine bo burnham’s prolonged eye contact joke #please someone see my vision #good omens #good omens 2 #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #a z fell #merlin #sir leon #leon the long suffering #i’ve changed my mind #merlin’s should say coffee

[bosbeenalildepressed]

➳ Bo Burnham x Carrie Mulligan || Promising Young Women

#bo burnham simp #imagine him being that nervous if he ever met me tho... what a dream #bo #bo burnham #pyw #promising young woman #ryan cooper #carrie mulligan #bo burnham inside #robert burnham #bo burnham gifs #ryan cooper gifs #pyw gifs #gif set

[lesbian-deadpool]

Natasha: I am the left brain, I am the left brain. "I work really hard until my inevitable death" brain. You've got a job to do, you better do it right and the right way is with the left brain's might.

Y/N: I LIKE OREOS AND PUSSY-

#source: bo burnham #incorrect marvel quotes #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel #MCU

[unrealmuppet]

based on that one photo of Bo Burnham

I like to think that they share a voice

#this is so stupid #I like to imagine that Flapjack sounds like him #bo burnham #flapjack #flapjack the dog #flapjack russell #my art #art #the muppets #muppets #muppet #muppet oc

[runawayolives]

White man in 1985

Pairing: Peter Ballard x reader

Warnings: 80s period typical misogyny. Based on Bo Burnham's song, 1985.

Summary: Peter and Y/N both had terrible days, being new in Hawkins is not as easy as they planned it would.

Word count: About 3.2k

Stranger things Masterlist | Masterlist

Since the three of you started living in Hawkins as a family, you had already managed to form a routine. You would wake up at around six, shower, get dressed, and go downstairs for breakfast. By the tie you sat at the kitchen table, El was rubbing the sleep off her eyes, and Peter was making breakfast with messy hair and an apron on top of his pajamas. After breakfast, you would get all the documents you needed, kiss the two of them goodbye, and walk out the door. You would drive to the firm and be there from nine to five.

Peter and El, had a different routine. Your husband would wake up with the shower's sound turning off and go into your daughter’s room to wake her up. El was a morning person, contrary to her two adoptive parents, which made the routine easier for Peter. Once the girl woke up, or more or less, she would drowsily go down the stairs and wait patiently at the table in the kitchen, excited for her serving of Eggo waffles. Peter and EL would both get a kiss goodbye and be left in the house alone. 

Because El was being homeschooled until both adults saw it was safe for her to go to the town’s middle school, she and Peter would spend the day together. On Wednesdays, they would go shopping and practice math and percentages and once they got the receipt, they would do some easy algebra at home. El enjoyed going to the supermarket. On Wednesday mornings, the store would be practically empty, and she would get to spend some time with her dad. The young girl did notice that as time progressed, more people would come in on their day, especially Karen Wheeler, their neighbor next door. El liked Karen, she was nice and would let Mike and her play as long as they wanted. 

Peter had other opinions about her, but wouldn’t voice them out loud in front of his adoptive daughter, considering she was still getting on on social cues and she got along a lot with the Wheeler’s only son. 

The Ballard father-daughter duo were wandering around the fruit aisle, deciding what would be cool for the fruit salad they wanted to make after hearing a story about you making them with your siblings growing up. 

“What about grapefruit.” Peter looked at where Eleven was squinting to see the small name of the product. 

“We got that once for your mom, remember? She said it tasted like orange juice and toothpaste?” Your husband doubted the young girl forgot. After a failed recommendation from one of Karen Wheeler’s friends, something about a grapefruit diet, El had been excited to get her mom one of those, just because Mrs. Carlson had made them sound so fantastic. Once you tried them, you described the taste with a smile, not wanting to bum the girl. The morning after the grapefruit incident, Eleven was excited to try the magical taste of orange juice and toothpaste. You and Peter would never forget the face of the little girl after she took a big sip from the glass of freshly made orange juice Peter had made that morning. 

After swallowing, El hugged you and apologized for making you eat the fruit. You laughed it off and assured her you didn’t feel forced to do anything, and that you enjoyed the new experience. 

“True.” Peter grabbed a few apples and showed them to the young girl, who gave him a nod of approval. 

“Oh, you’re getting fruits! So fun, I recommend the grapefruits.” They both turned around to look at the newcomer, a one and only Mrs. Wheeler.

“Mommy thinks they taste like toothpaste and orange juice.” The older woman looked quickly at the Eleven and then turned to look back at her attractive neighbor.

“Oh, well, I completely recommend them.” El walked away to grab some oranges she had seen, leaving Peter and Karen alone, or at least out of earshot. “So, Peter, how’s the babysitting going?” Your husband looked at your neighbor quizzically, not understanding her question.

“What babysitting?” 

“You know, taking care of Elaine?” 

“It’s not babysitting when you’re the parent, right?” Karen giggled softly, not knowing how to go from there. 

“Well, you know, mothers know best, fathers just follow.” Karen gripped the cart harder, nervous under Peter’s strong gaze. 

“Mrs. Wheeler, I don’t know how you do it in your home, but I would appreciate it  if you didn’t question our methods.”

“I’m just wondering, how would you know what’s best for your child when that is your wife’s job? You should be the lawyer, she should be with Elaine.” Eleven came back with even more fruits than just the oranges, which marked the end of the uncomfortable conversation. 

“We’ll see you around Mrs, Wheeler.” 

Peter had heard comments like this before, and he knew he would hear them many times again. It was not easy for him to do this transition, not at all. He had been in the lab for a bit more than 20 years, since the thing with his family. He didn’t have the 80s social mentality, yet he was more progressive than the majority of Hawkins. 

When he and Y/n were planning their escape from the lab, she explained the plans after they got out. The job she had already gotten at the firm, and how he would stay with El at home until she was okay to go to school with all of the kids with normal upbringings. Peter was not comfortable at the beginning with the idea of him not working, maybe even you having a job. But after he thought about it more that night, he realized that he met you while you were working, so it made no sense for him not to be okay with you not working. And him staying at home taking care of El and the house, teaching her the basics to integrate into the middle school was as noble as any other job. 

Thanks to him being a stay-at-home dad, he would help El adapt during this scary transition, and at the same time give himself some time for adaptation also. Getting in the lab in ‘59 and not leaving until 83 was going to need a lot of getting used to. And he wouldn’t have the space for that personal and mental growth if he was working at some job he wouldn’t even like that much. Peter would like to work on something psychology-related, but from what he had been able to read at the public library was that he would need a college certificate for any of the jobs. Apparently being locked in a lab for two decades wasn’t enough training. 

He had told you about this, and you had been supportive. You had started setting some money aside to be able to pay for Peter’s college education, which he would get once El started school. He had also gone to the High School psychologist, to get some directions on where to start in his free time and what he would need to get a similar job to hers. The studies were a few, and they took a few years, but after El got into school, he would have enough free time to attend classes and still be able to take care of the majority of the house chores. 

None of this was easy for Peter, but he liked to put things into perspective every time he felt underwhelmed. And the perspective was simple: He had married an amazing woman and had adopted an amazing girl that every day were teaching him how to be a better person, how to love and be loved. 

…

For you, the moment you stepped foot on the firm, the onslaught of old-fashioned mentality was already brewing. Hawkins being a small town implied that everyone knew who you and Peter were, especially with your interesting home dynamic. 

The moment your boss interviewed you, Mr. Harrington was impressed with your resumé, or better said, with your Harvard Law diploma. The moment he shook your hand when you were leaving, your future boss said: “We’re looking forward to working with you, Miss Y/LN. Is your fiancé also going to apply to work here?” You kindly smiled and said that he didn’t go to law school. 

The connection made sense. Or better said you could follow Mr. Harriongton’s train of thought. You could only be engaged to a man that was the same or better than you academically. Why would a man want to marry a woman with better education and/or job? That could only be emasculation, for your wife to be the breadwinner in the relationship. Surely your fiance would have gotten an education at two Ivys or had been valedictorian when he graduated from Harvard. 

Once you started working, the scandal of your marriage became the biggest gossip topic since who knows when. Because of this, the partners and other lawyers didn’t shy away from comments that weren’t acceptable in the workplace, and outside of it. Comments and the regular invitation to cheat on your husband, to spend some time with a “real man”. When things like this happened, sometimes even from your boss, you would wonder how is it that they could later show up and look at their wives in the eyes. Something along the lines of, “hey honey, (you were sure they didn’t thank their wives for anything) shitty casserole, oh, guess what? I asked my younger coworker to sleep with me. Goodnight.” 

But today, oh, today was incredible. 

It started with the morning meetings, where they announced the new partner of the firm. As usual, they hadn’t waited for you to come to start. Although, maybe that was better, considering the first 20 minutes of every meeting were discussions of “men things”, things you weren’t supposed to form part of. This time, you only had to sit through five minutes of it, sadly, you didn’t save yourself from inhaling more cigarette smoke than your aunt Fillis had smoked in her life. Once Mr. Harrington stood up, the nightmare began.

“First things first. I’m proud to announce that Ed is the new partner of our firm. Ed, you did a bitching job with the Emmerson’s case, that intimidation technique you used on their pussy ass lawyers was on spot.” Mr. Harrington, after this amazing news, poured himself a glass of scotch and drank it in a go. At 9.30 p.m. on a Wednesday. After some other announcements for the morning, you were all dismissed. 

“Mrs. Ballard, please come to my office, there are some things we have to go over.” It took you a lot of willpower not to throw your files at your boss's face, considering all of the brilliant things he had said first thing in the morning. 

Emmerson’s case, that was all of your doing, as always. Dear Ed had awful evidence, that was more incriminating for your client than favorable. If it weren’t for you, you would have ended up in court, and only losers go to court. It was sad to admit that you weren’t surprised that your hard work was recognized as some white man’s. This morning you felt bold, so you acted boldly.

“Don’t you think it’s interesting that every case that hasn’t gone to court and that we’ve won was done by me and someone else?” You sat down after your statement, and your boss raised his gaze from his cigar to look at you. 

“Of course not. I’m smart enough to see patterns.” You rose an eyebrow, knowing something was going to follow that. “But, I’m smart enough not to give you the promotion, but to your partner in the case.” You leaned back into your seat, knowing that you had to get ready to listen to bull crap. 

“How does that logic work?” 

“Y/N, I know you are our best lawyer. Everyone in the firm knows. But it’s not a good image, not good at all.” Mr. Harrington then poured himself another glass of scotch. “We would lose a lot of rep if our best lawyer was female, you have to understand.” 

“So instead of giving me some kind of recognition, you award my partner. Why?” Mr. Harrington stood up and gripped the armrests of your chair.

“I cannot give you the recognition, so I give it to your partner. But I know it’s for you, and you know it’s for you.” 

“I didn’t know that was recognition, and how is that fair?” Your boss backed down under your fiery gaze. “You’re rewarding mediocrity and ignoring my hard work. You need me, you know your other lawyers don’t even reach above average. I’m the one fixing your so-called rep.” You knew Mr. Harrington was aware of all of this, but you also knew that he hired you expecting your husband to join the firm. 

“What do you want?” 

“What do I want?” You raised your head to look at your boss with more defiance. “I want recognition and an ounce of respect. I want a decent desk, and to stop being treated like a secretary.” This is when you got arrogant, you could say. “ I want these requests to be met, or I will happily work for someone else.” 

“Okay.” Mr. Harrington looked fairly calm, considering the outburst you had just shown. “Five more cases won and you’ll have your own office. Ten, you’ll get a promotion. Twenty, you’ll get to be a partner. in a year.” 

“Done.” 

…

Once you left his office, you met Ed at the door. The little mf had an arrogant smirk plastered on his stupid face. 

“So, how does it feel to have worked on a case with a partner?” 

“Underwhelming.” You walked away, fast enough to not soak in that much of his glare. 

After some tie looking over your files on the new case. You had piled up a few of the books in the meeting room that had some information you would need. Ed, magnanimous as always, walked straight to your cluttered desk, took three of them, and walked away. 

“Mr. Roberts, I was using those. I would appreciate it if you would put them back on my desk.” You pulled your reading glasses off to look at the new partner intensely, not ready for immature behavior. 

“Mrs. Ballrd, are you at that time of the month? Stop being a bitch.” You could tell Edward Roberts was getting nervous under your gaze. Peter had affectionately called it your serious mom gaze. According to him, you already had one, your intimidating lawyer glare. The difference was easy, one was designated for children, and the other one for people you found challenging in your professional field. Roberts, for obvious reasons, got the mom one.

“I’m not your mother, I’m not your wife nor your daughter. You can treat them however you feel like, but I demand respect. I am your equal, and if I ask you to return the book I was using, I expect you to follow my request.” You were speaking slowly, loudly, and clearly. Your whole demeanor resembled intimidation and control. 

“I don’t know how you do it at home with that pussy of a husband, but I am your superior, and you should keep that in mind.” 

“I don’t think your wife would appreciate hearing about your frequent meetings at the gentlemen’s club and those phone calls you like to make after lunch.” You tilted your head to the side, mockingly making a concerned face. “I would gladly represent her for the divorce case. Considering you’re such an amazing lawyer, you’ll do fine.” 

“I can get you fired for this.” 

Ed set the books down and walked away, muttering something bout getting respect fucked into you right. You turned around to look at Mr. Harrington’s office, who proudly smiled at you. Your turned around and proceeded as if you hadn’t been interrupted.

…

Once home, you took your high heels off and threw them as far as you could, making a mental note to pick them up later. El ran to the garage entrance to say hi, and you kissed her forehead. Peter then joined the two of you. You kissed him too, smiling when you heard El’s small noise of disgust. The first weeks you were a family, Eleven live to see her new parents love each other, but after too many afternoons spent with the neighbor and his friends, she had decided to fake disgust. 

Peter then hugged El closer to him and kissed her forehead. “Is it still ew, young lady?” El looked up at her dad, a bashful smile on her face. 

“No.” Her response was a small whisper, but you both heard it nonetheless. El adored the floor Peter walked on, and you lived to see moments like this happening to your little family. Especially after all the events, you went through regularly. 

“Honey, I need wine during dinner.” Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

“Believe me, after today, me too.” 

…

After dinner, you and Peter lay in bed together, in silence, basking in each other's presence. 

“I love you. I want you to know I wouldn’t change anything in our family.” You knew Peter said this, more to himself than to you. You could get a fair idea of what had happened today, and decided to wait until he was comfortable enough to tell you about it. Or less mentally drained, better said.

“I love you too. You’re such a great partner, so supportive. Brave, confident, patient. The list can go on. I see you, Peter, and I know this isn’t the easiest for you. I’m so grateful for your efforts and resilience.” You shifted closer to him. “I know we hear loads of shit every day about our family. But if I had the chance to change how my life went, if I had the chance to decide again to work or not at the lab, I would choose the lab, a million times. Just because I know you and El were there.” Your arm went around his waist, noses touching. 

“You’re always complimenting me. But I see you too, Y/N. I see how you work day and night to guarantee we’re stable. How you make an effort to make time for your job and us. How you always make sure El and I are okay before you can relax. I see all of this, and I couldn’t be more grateful to you.” Peter pulled a strang of your hair behind your ear. “If it wasn’t for you, El and I would still be stuck in that lab, and we wouldn’t have this amazing family.” He kissed you softly, stroking your cheek. I can’t say I don’t feel like I’m dragging you down, I can’t say I don’t know you can do better. But knowing this makes me realize that if you stay with me, the useless husband that can’t maintain his wife and daughter, then you must love me deeply and truly.” You twirled one of his wavy strands. 

“Love, you’re the only one for me.” You turned the bedroom light off and hugged your husband until you couldn’t stand the body heat anymore.

AN: Thank you for reading this installment of the First-day series, I hope you enjoyed it. If you have a request or ask, feel free to send them to my inbox, I love to see what people think and want to see in other parts.

#peter ballard #peter ballard x reader #001 #vecna #henry creel #first day series #first day universe #x reader #runaway olives #imagines #imagine #oneshot #drabble #bo burnham #stranger things #netflix #season 4 #millie bobby brown #jamie campbell bower #eleven #011 #eleven hopper #jane hopper

[immaterial-girl]

something about bo burnham songs…they groove directly into my psyche and make a little home there.

maybe its the combination of melody and flawless rhyme on a sentence i could spend years unpacking and not be able to fully articulate or understand the emotion it makes me feel? but once i think of one of his songs i have to listen to it immediately and usually play it over and over again and maybe scribble some of the lyrics down in a notebook like a madwoman.

it’s like cocomelon to me

#when i say that i mean the. againagainagainagain feeling #however cocomelon is mind numbing and his songs are like…mind overdrive. time to thinkthinkthink #bo burnham #art is dead especially. but this was inspired by look whos inside again #i cannot IMAGINE. hearing ‘well well look who’s inside again; went out to look for a reason to hide again. well well buddy you found it’ #and not just. feeling soooo un-normal about it #look whos inside again. went out to look for a reason to hide again. OKAY #are you feeling nervous? are you having fun? its almost over; it’s just begun #inside #mine

[theangrypomeranian]

thinking about them again ❤️

#gac pack #gene x courtney x alex #gene belcher x courtney wheeler x alex papasian #gene belcher #courtney wheeler #alex papasian #bob's burgers #poly ship #pom ponders #they're all such adorkable nerds and i love them #every time they all show up on screen together i shriek #i like to imagine that as courtney gets older the boys think that she's the most gorgeous creature to bless the earth #and absolutely spoiler her rotten and practically worship the ground she walks on #for her part courtney loves and values her boys and is never ungrateful for their returned affections #help i have so many feelings about this poly ship of aged up 11 year olds #i wanna write a fic for them so badly hhhh #particularly #pop star au #because courtney is so tayloe coded and gene is bo burnham coded #and alex can be their manager because i feel like he'd have mad business skills #all the feels tonight

[storiesforallfandoms]

a different side ~ bo burnham

word count: 2611

request?: yes!

“A bo burnham fic‼️‼️ maybe they get drunk and cuddle on the couch and then things heat up and bo turns out to be very verbal and dominating?? Thanks 🙏”

description: in which a drunk night leads her to see an entirely different side of her sweet, goofy boyfriend

pairing: bo burnham x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral; m receiving, deepthroating, gagging, face fucking, drunk sex, rough fucking, face down ass up type thing, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, rough and dominant bo, reader is shocked but it is fully consentual)

masterlist (one, two)

Ever since you first met him, Bo was a sweet, goofy guy. He always knew how to put a smile on your face, and he was always incredibly kind and sweet towards basically everyone he met. He said his stage persona was fake on numerous occasions, but he did match that persona in more ways than he realized.

He was a sweet, Golden Retriever type of guy. Until the first night that you both got really drunk.

Bo had showed up to your apartment with a bottle of wine and some take out.

“I know you said you wanted to stay home because you had a load of work to do,” he said when you answered the door. “But I wanted to see you. So, I figured maybe we could have a date night in whenever you’re done with your work.”

He really knew how to make you smile and how to make your heart flutter.

“I may finish up now that you’re here. I really need some relaxation.”

“Well, I can help you with that.” He raised an eyebrow at you, suggestively. You giggled and stepped aside to let him in.

You finished up your work for the night and changed into some comfy clothes to join Bo in the living room. He had set out a blanket and the food as a little indoor picnic, and was pouring up two glasses of wine. He smiled at you and held out a glass to you.

You sat with him and the two of you started to talk about your days. You had been feeling swamped with your workload the past few days and you hadn’t been able to do much else besides trying to catch up on the workload. You were glad Bo had come over despite you having cancelled your usual date night.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to finish the bottle of wine Bo had brought. Your whole body felt light and tingly from the alcohol. You decided to get up and get the wine you already had in your fridge to keep the feeing alive. Another bottle later, and you and Bo were cuddling on the couch. You pressed a few kisses against his neck, earing you a few groans in response. In your inebriated daze, you felt pleasure in his responses. They fueled your desire to get more from him, so you continued to kiss over his neck.

“You better be careful, princess,” he said, his voice husky with the alcohol and lust.

You had never heard the pet name from Bo before. It caused a tingly feeling between your legs and you dared to ask, “Or else what?”

In an instant, Bo’s hands were grabbing you and pinning you down to the couch. You were taken by surprise and wasn’t sure how to react. Luckily, you didn’t have to because his lips were on yours, hungrily kissing you. You tried to wrap your legs around his waist to get some friction between the two of you, but he broke away from the kiss to push them away.

“If you want to kiss something, I’ll give you something to kiss,” he said.

Before you could ask what he meant, he had you off the couch and on your knees between his legs. He undid his pants and pulled his erect member free. It flopped against his stomach, standing at full attention for you. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, despite having seen his member many times before.

Bo touched your face. It was gentle at first; the touch you were used to feeling. But it became a bit more rough when he grabbed the back of your head and pulled it roughly towards his lap.

“Come on, princess,” he encouraged. “Get to kissing.”

You wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his tip. You were met with the salty taste of his pre-cum on your tongue. Bo’s head lulled back against the couch as he let out a moan. His hand was still on your head, now pushing it down so you were taking his entire length in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Take it all, princess.”

You did just that. You had him so far in your mouth you could feel him poking at the back of your throat. You were trying desperately not to gag, but the full feeling you had with him all the way in your mouth felt like too much. You tried to pull away as your stomach heaved from the gag, but Bo reached down and took hold of your head before you could fully take his length from your mouth.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “I’m not done with that mouth yet.”

You looked up at him and saw his lust filled look. You could feel your panties becoming drenched with your own arousal. You wanted nothing more than to feel him take them off of you and to take you right there on the couch, but it was very evident that he had other plans in mind. He was preparing to use you to his own pleasure, whether you gained pleasure from it or not.

He held your head in place as his hips slowly began to thrust into your mouth. He was careful not to push it too far into your throat to cause you to gag again. That seemed more like him, a gentle lover who was careful to make sure that you were okay during the experience. But he was holding your gaze so you could still see the sexual aggression in his eyes. They were not the eyes of your gentle lover looking back at you, but rather a whole different side of Bo you had never seen before.

You were surprised with how Bo was acting, but you were even more surprised with how turned on you were with the whole scenario. You had never been treated like this sexually before. For the most part, you had been with some very respectful sexual partners who preferred to take things slow or to “make love” so to speak. Up until now, Bo had been like that as well. You had never even thought about being handled in a rough way like this, let alone whether or not you would like it.

But you did. You really, really liked it.

Bo continued to thrust into your mouth, pushing himself as far in as he could without gagging you before pulling out again. It was slow at first, just enough so he could really feel your warm mouth wrapped around him and your wet tongue pressed against the underside of his dick. But once you had made his dick wet enough for his liking, his thrusts started to pick up. His grip on your head tightened so you couldn’t pull away as he fucked your mouth. Drool began to seep from your mouth and drip down your chin. You let out an involuntary whimper, becoming more and more turned on by the way he was treating you.

“Oh, you like that, princess?” he asked. “You like it when I fuck your face like this? When I just use you as my little cum dumpster. Fuck, look at your fucked out face. I haven’t even put my dick inside of you yet and you already look like you’re worn out.”

You certainly did not feel worn out. You wanted him inside of you more than anything. Your panties were so wet you were almost certain there’d be a wet spot left on your pants. You tried to reach between your legs to relieve some of the pressure you were feeling, but Bo quickly took one hand from your face to stop you.

“No touching,” he said. “Not until I say so. Do you think you can handle that?”

Your eyes were wide and pleading. You shook your head, which only caused Bo to laugh.

“You’re such a little whore, aren’t you?” he taunted. “Can’t even control yourself long enough to let daddy fuck you.”

Daddy!

You let out another whimper at the newest pet name to be introduced. You wanted to try it out for yourself, but your mouth was still full with Bo’s dick.

“What was that, princess?” he asked.

He pulled his dick free from your mouth to finally allow you to speak. “Please daddy.”

“Oh, the little whore begs now,” he commented. “What is it you’re begging for, my little whore?”

“I-I n-need you to fuck me,” you said. “Please daddy, I need it so bad.”

“You need it? Or you want it?”

“Both!” you cried. “Please, I’m so wet.”

He pulled you to a stand in front of him. He reached his hand into the waistband of your pants, causing you to gasp as he ran a finger through your drenched folds.

“Oh my, you truly are wet.” You nearly whimpered again as he pulled his hand away from you. “I can’t let my princess be unsatisfied, can I?”

You shook your head vigorously, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Bo stood, towering over you. You were always in awe at his height and you loved to be able to look up at him. But now, there was something more to that height. It was almost intimidating. You weren’t sure what he was going to do next.

You yelped as he roughly pushed you down onto the couch, positioning your body so that your head was down in the cushions and your ass was in the air. He made quick work of removing your pants and underwear, leaving your lower half completely bare to him. You felt the couch dip as Bo knelt behind you, and you gasped as you felt the warmth of his tip gliding through your folds.

“You’re so wet, I don’t even have to lube myself up,” he commented. “It’s almost like your body is preparing for me to fuck you into oblivion.”

You moaned in response at his comment. Your head was so blank you didn’t even think you could form a coherent sentence.

Bo continued to tease your clit for a little while until you were practically backing yourself into him, your body begging him to be inside of you. The feeling of his tip pushing through your opening and his dick slowly filling you sent a wave of pleasure through your body and you already felt like you could cum. You weren’t sure how you were going to last through what he was planning to do to you.

Unlike when he was fucking your face, Bo didn’t start slow. He placed a hand between your shoulder blades to hold you in place as he began to roughly thrust into you. The sound of skin slapping against one another and your combined moans and groans was the only thing filling the room. He was so rough that you were sure you could feel the couch moving beneath you. If you were in your right mind you’d probably be worried about the couch breaking, but you were so far from being in your right mind.

As expected, it didn’t take long for you to cum around him. You screamed out in pleasure, your hands gripping the couch beneath you as you came so hard you saw stars and started to pant. Bo murmured words of praise into your ear as he kept mercilessly thrusting into you, your juices dripping down his length onto his balls and then onto the couch. Your legs were already feeling wobbly and you were ready to flop down, but Bo wasn’t done with you yet.

He put an arm under your belly, holding you up in the position he wanted as he used his other hand to guide your hips back into him. “You can’t tap out yet, princess. I’m not ready to be done with you. You just have to hold on a little bit longer.”

You weren’t sure if you’d be able to, but you knew you would have to until Bo was done with you.

He held you in place like a fuck toy, and you were truly starting to feel that way. Despite the protests of your body, you still felt incredibly pleasured as he continued to fuck your cunt sore and puffy. Before you knew it, you could feel a pressure growing in your lower stomach again and you knew you were about to hit your second orgasm.

“I-I’m g-gonna cum,” you told him. “I-I don’t th-think I can l-last much longer, daddy.”

“It’s okay, princess. I’m getting close, too. Can you wait for me so we can cum together?”

You weren’t sure you could, but you tried your hardest for him. He held on to your hips with both hands and managed to fuck you harder than he had before somehow. You were screaming out in pleasure with every rough thrust and it wasn’t long before you couldn’t control yourself any longer and your orgasm took over. Feeling your walls tighten around him, Bo let out a long groan and you felt his warm seed coating the inside of your walls.

You were panting and coated in sweat when Bo slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered as the cool air touched your sore pussy. You could feel him dripping out of you and onto the couch. You made a mental note to absolutely bleach the couch clean whenever you got the chance. Or to burn it completely.

You finally collapsed onto your stomach, but you didn’t stay there for long. You felt Bo’s arms pick you up and hold you bridal style as he carried you to your bedroom. He laid you down in your bed and you both took off your shirts, deciding to be completely naked to cuddle and come down from your mutual highs.

Bo got you a cloth to clean you and himself off before he slid into bed next to you. He took you into his arms. You winced a little as your aching body rolled into him and your legs pushed together on your sore cunt. It was throbbing, but it wasn’t painful.

“I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” he asked. Every ounce of the dominant, rough man that had fucked the life out of you moments before was gone. You were almost shocked by the sudden change.

“No,” you said. “Okay, actually my body is a little worn and my pussy is throbbing, but I wouldn’t consider it pain. It felt good.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “Okay, at least it felt good.”

“I’m very surprised though. Where did that come from?”

His cheeks turned bright red, almost like he was embarrassed. “Well...I mean...I’ve kind of always had that side of me. I didn’t want to show it because we’re still so new in this relationship and I didn’t want you to get afraid of me or anything. But...I think the alcohol just brought it out tonight. And then you were kissing my neck and it felt so good, and I just...didn’t want to stop myself. I was afraid you wouldn’t like it, and I would’ve stopped then, but it seemed like you thoroughly enjoyed that side of me.”

“Oh, I more than enjoyed it. In fact, I’d love to see more of that side of you if you’d be willing to show me more.”

"I’ll show you all you want to see, princess.”

And that one word caused the throb between your legs to become a dull ache, begging to feel Bo inside of you and to ruin you once again.

#bo burnham #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham smut #bo burnham x reader #imagine #one shot #request #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[pseudonympls]

Consequences

Bo Burnham x AFAB reader.

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: orgasm denial. public sex. elevator sex. wrong on so many levels. established relationship. Dom!bo. creampie. bratting. Pet play if you squint. No gendered terms just cute pet names. Punishment.

“What is it, baby? You scared?”

Your body presses up against the cold hard metal of the elevator, your nipples singing - half in pleasure half in pain as his lithe form holds you precariously in place.

Your cheek, smushed up against the freezing cold of the elevator mirror moves in a way that might create words, if they weren’t all caught in your throat, your breathing ragged, passing by your tongue with every breath.

“Just couldn’t wait to get you alone, wasn’t even enough to get you all to myself” he scoffed “no, we’re gonna give the guys watching the cctv a real good show, aren’t we?” he huffed in your ear, making you squirm even more. Your limbs tensed in defiance, a remnant of the last few hours, the ire flowing through your veins couldn’t be stilled, even when he had you just where he wanted you. Stuck, impossibly sandwiched between him and the elevator, and regrettably starting to dampen between your thighs.

“I just need you to know” he breathes in, and readjusts his body against you - and the faint sound of a zipper coming down breaks through the pounding of your own heart that’s fills your ears, “That actions have consequences, kitten”

His warm palm and five exploring fingers come to the back of your thigh, leafing through the scant material that hangs there he quickly happens upon something incriminating, damning even. Like poring over the pages of a book his fingers slip between your folds, and the beating in your skull gets more insistent, picking up speed as he slowly tuts to himself.

“No no no no, you’re not enjoying this, are you?” His fingers trace a devilish line between your opening and your throbbing clit. Propelling your hips to rock back into his, even with your restricted movement your determination knows no bounds.

“You’re not supposed to, after all, this is supposed to be your punishment, for showing me up earlier” his mouth makes contact with the back of your head, and you hear him unmistakably breathe you in as he musses up your hair from above. “For being such a wanton slut” 

His fingers circle back, two thick, long fingers press against your needy hole, slipping effortlessly inside, almost hungry for him.

“Hmm,” Bo muses “although I guess this could be more fun” there’s an edge to his voice, something sinister as you clench around him for purchase, for any kind of grip on this situation that’s fast spinning out of control. He slides his fingers all the way in, and you feel impossibly full, and yet your body squirms for more. He fills you to the second knuckle, and your hips greedily roll back against him, for something - anything - more. But you know it’ll just anger him further, you almost revel in how he snarls as he rips his fingers from you.

“Now that’s not the way, is it?” You clench around nothing as his fingers leave you empty, dripping, starved for touch.

“B-Bo,” your composure falters “p-please,”

He doesn’t like that. He presses you further into the elevator, and your eyes squeeze closed as you feel it bob ever so slightly up and down, his weight shifting the elevator, and you - along with it.

“P-Please” he parrots and readjusts, his voice taking on an arrogant darkness “What?” His words might contain venom, they sting just as much.

“I’m sorry” you splutter out against the glass, not sure that this paltry apology would be enough.

“Sorry for what?” Stunned into silence yet again he waits for a beat, and you feel him press up against you, thick, slick and demanding, your palms sweating and sliding against the elevator as he teases your cunt.

“Wrong answer” he sneers and then he’s inside of you - thick, pulsating and merciless. He bottoms out inside of you and you feel as if you might come apart at the seams, feeling him press up against your insides like he means them harm. You let out a cry as he fills you, and your vision blots into dark spots in front of your eyes. The sharp pain from him being so forceful only makes you more aroused. He pumps effortlessly in and out of you, and you open your eyes against the mirror. He’s rutting into you from behind like something completely wild, his blond waves moving rhythmically with each thrust, the vein in his neck throbbing with intensity behind the cream of his floral shirt.

How he looked so devil-may-care only a few hours ago, so at ease, so enamoured. And then you had to come along and spoil everything. Only fitting, that you embarrassed him in front of his equals, his friends, and now he was about to embarrass you in front of god knows how many people that had access to the cctv. Dutifully taking your punishment for inciting his wrath. 

Your cheek raw with being pressed up against the glass, you made the mistake of sniffling too loudly, and with a grunt his eyes were on you. Right then you noticed the moisture clinging to your face, not only had you been squashed against the glass, but you had been drooling up against it in your unbridled lust. Bo was right, you really were just a wanton slut.

His blue eyes were fixated on you, his expression slack as he continued to pummel your insides further. “Making a mess, baby?” he chided, and you wince as you felt yourself tense around him, his relentless teasing only pushing you further toward completion.

“Bo” you manage between gasps “P-please” 

“I won’t ask again, please what?” his teeth came to his bottom lip, his hips never faltering.

“P-please, I need to come, please let me c-come” half of your mouth talks against the fogged out mirror, the twinges in your lower belly signalling your descent into madness. He might have driven a hard bargain, Bo was tough but fair, and you saw a slight crumple in his composure as you begged, slack jawed and drooling up against the glass. How he’d so rarely denied you, how he’d so often made your pleasure his goal, spent hours upon hours worshipping between your legs with fingers, tongues and toys in tow. But you had gone too far this time, and his devilish expression said as much.

He continued his assault on your cunt as you twinged around him, “No babe, we don’t have time” he grunted into your shoulder, spreading you further against the wall, “They’ll be here any minute to fix the elevator,” a sneer tugged at the corners of his mouth, audible even from behind you. His speed picked up, and for a moment you thought that he’d given in, had mercy on you. In the corner of your eye he moved, faster, with more intensity, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were so close, so very close. Just a few more hits would do it, send you spiralling out of control into a pleasured heap. But something was wrong, something discordant, distinctly out of sync.

“That’s it, f-fuck” he moaned, the words catching in his throat, and you began to climb, higher and higher, the point of no return rapidly approaching. Your own melodic moans eked out of the side of your mouth not silenced by the glass, and then you felt him. Stuttering against your backside once - twice, three times, the hot spill of his orgasm flooded your insides, the overabundance of it began to leak out of you.

After what seemed like an eternity he released you from the elevator wall, your limbs quivering and your lower belly burning with need for release, for your peak. You’d never been so thoroughly wrung out, so used. A scowl pulled at the corners of your mouth, your cunt so thoroughly denied that it still throbbed, ached for relief. Relief that he was hell bent on denying you.

“Don’t look at me like that, pet” he said knowingly as he tucked himself back into his trousers, looking so unflappable, so sanguine. There was a rattle and a few voices from outside the elevator, a clang. “You need to learn, baby, that actions have consequences” He readjusted himself, his perfect jaw feathering underneath his neatly trimmed beard. He smirked, glancing down at you - a mere puddle, a mess, to his unwavering composure. Your knees trembled before him, half in anger, half in devastation.

*Ding*

The elevator doors peeled open, and the technicians stood on the other side of them, pressing buttons on the console to the left. 

Turning on the charm, his eyes lit up. “Ah, thanks buddy, thought we’d be here all day!” Bo grabbed your still sweaty hand, toting you along behind him, away from the scene of the crime. “Don’t mind this one, a touch of claustrophobia” he nodded condescendingly down at you, his lips a straight line, sending your already reeling mind into a tailspin. “We’ll get out of your hair, thanks again” Quickly, but not so quick as to be suspicious, he walked you down the corridor, your thighs sticking together as you walked, all the shame and disgust quickly burrowing deep beneath your skull.

“Now, baby,” He stood you in front of the hotel room, swiping his card and pushing the door open with all the effort of a single hand. “I’ve got a few interviews to go to, and I was sorta in my own head about the whole thing, but thanks to you” he pecks a kiss to the tip of your nose “my little stress reliever,” he smirks “I’m not feeling too bad”. Suddenly his expression turns from coltish and carefree to serious, dark. “You know what to do, sweetie” he nods to inside the room “Clean yourself up now, and don’t try any funny business while I’m away” he clutches both your hands in a single one of his, almost hard enough to hurt. “Because I’ll know” he nods slowly, and the sincerity in his eyes makes you never want to disobey him again.

Until the next time, that is. 

#bo burnham #bo burnham fanfic #bo burnham fanfiction #bo burnham smut #bo burnham x reader #bo burnham/reader #bo burnham imagine #microfic

[bella-pascal]

209 OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!!!!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #harry styles #bo burnam inside #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #bo burnham #bo burnham fluff #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x reader #eddie munson fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles pleasing #johnny depp

[disturbed-and-depressed]

5 Years

CC!Ranboo x GN!Reader

Song: 5 Years by Bo Burnham

Warnings: None

Y/n fiddled with the phone in their hands, still contemplating as to whether or not to actually make the call to their longtime boyfriend, known as Ranboo. Today was their anniversary. Five years to be exact. The two of them were only 18, but they’ve known each other their whole lives, and they’ve been in love with each other for 6 years, that one year was spent silently pining over each other until the h/c teen mustered up the courage to actually confess.

“Oh my gosh, just call him and tell him you wrote him a song!” Tommy exclaimed, laying on his stomach across from his nervous friend. “It’s that simple.”

Y/n shook their head. “Shut up Tom, it’s not that simple. What do you know? You’ve never been in a steady relationship because you can’t get a girl to fall in love with you.”

“Woah! What the hell?” Tommy frowned and sat up. “What did I do?”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their hands over their face. “I’m sorry Tommy. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just…What if he doesn’t like it? What do I do then?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away, trying to find the right words to say so he wouldn’t say the wrong thing and risk getting another blow to his ego. Thinking back on it, he really didn’t know how much the two meant to each other. Him and Tubbo had asked how the two of them had gotten together one night when they were all at Tubbo’s house in England, back when they were still 17 and stupid, but the couple was pretty much vague when it came to their answers.

But the one thing he did know was that Ranboo loved Y/n, and Y/n loved Ranboo. That was enough for anybody wasn’t it?

“Well I know that Ranboo loves you.” Tommy talked slowly, trying to make his words sound a little more meaningful. He wasn’t good at things like this. Y/n would have gotten better advice if they went to Aimsey or Niki instead. Hell, even Billzo or Freddy would be better than him. “If it comes from you, Ranboo will love it. I know that much.”

Y/n peeked through their fingers. “You really think so? Seriously?”

Tommy nodded and held out the phone. Biting their lip, Y/n grasped the object between their fingers.

“Okay. I can do this.” The nervous teen went into their contacts and tapped on their significant other’s profile, pressing the call button and brought the device up to their ear. “It’s ringing.”

They waited and slightly winced at the beeping. “Oh…It went to voicemail.” Y/n informed the blond.

“Just say what you were going to say.”

The e/c person nodded. “Hey Boo, uh, it's me, Um, our anniversary is coming up, it's a pretty big one, and, um, I wrote a song for you. So I'm just leaving you this voicemail because, um, I want the song to begin with this voicemail…”

“...Um, so just, figure it out and text me the voicemail, um, immediately, if you wouldn't mind…Like, right when you get this. Thank you, um, I love you, bye.”

Ranboo smiled as he listened to his lover’s voice fill his ears. He was upset because he hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with Y/n. Ranboo had become increasingly busy with his streams while Y/n had spent more time on their album, just recently releasing outtakes and such.

Ranboo had not forgotten their anniversary but was slightly worried about it slipping Y/n’s mind, not that he would have minded too much, but he would be lying he said the thought wasn’t upsetting. So he knew he was lucky that she remembered.

That was the way their relationship worked. Ranboo was the hopeless romantic while Y/n was the realistic person. Ranboo was a live in the moment and Y/n was a plan ahead type. They balanced each other out and that’s why the couple was able to stay together so long. So with the way Y/n wasn’t big on affection all that much, it wasn’t a surprise she made a song, nevertheless, the thought could not be appreciated enough.

Y/n and Ranboo had been best friends since 5th grade, and the only reason it began was because Y/n had accidentally tripped Ranboo and he had been so forgiving, which was something that still confused the h/c teen to this current day and age.

Secrets have been shared between the two on late nights when it was school the next day. Secrets that they had originally vowed to take to the grave but allowed themselves to slip when speaking to the person who meant everything to the other.

They both had their problems, and they helped each other with their problems, whether it be mentally or physically. Ranboo had always had trouble with the way he looked, never liking his appearance. It had been something that he had confessed to Y/n around 2 years into their friendship. Y/n didn’t like the way other people perceived them, more often than not believing that they were a very tiresome person, and that people are usually annoyed with them.

The two of them were messes. Huge unlabeled weird messes. And even though together they were a bigger mess, it was a mess that just seemed to go unnoticed by most because it was so natural.

It’s been 5 years and things have not changed by much. The pair were still with each other, and things would not be changing anytime soon. Not a big change anyways.

It was around 10 pm at night, and Ranboo and Y/n had just finished a 5 hour long stream and they were starving from having not eaten anything all day, so they agreed on ordering some Chinese food. While Ranboo ordered for them, Y/n searched on tv for a show or movie that would occupy a good amount of time before their dinner arrived and chose to settle on some sitcom that was on its reruns.

The young couple sat on the couch, with Ranboo sitting near the armrest and Y/n right by him, letting their shoulders touch, eating their meal. Y/n was watching the people on the screen move and listening to them talk and the laugh track that would occasionally ring out.

Suddenly, Y/n’s attention was pulled away as Ranboo wordlessly reached over to her plate and grabbed a dumpling before popping it into his mouth. The e/c teen stopped her movements and stared at their boyfriend. Y/n scoffed and shook their head. Like, Ranboo didn’t even ask if he could. Yeah, they’re dating each other, but it should be a known fact that you do NOT take your significant other’s food unless you know they’ll be okay with it.

Ranboo stopped chewing as he caught Y/n’s gaze and stared at her questioningly. “Why are you looking at me like that? What the fuck did I do?”

The teen rolled their eyes. “You know, if you really wanted some dim sum then you should have gotten some when we place in the order dude.”

“You’re a psycho.” Ranboo jokingly told Y/n. “I don’t wanna fight, okay? So let’s just drop this, it’s not a big deal.” He turned back to the screen.

Y/n sighed, “Fine, but for the record you owe me a dumpling, I mean it, I won't forget. You owe me a dumpling or a dumpling equivalent.”

Ranboo bit his lip to stop himself from bursting out into laughter at his partner's words. It was really moments like this that made him love his best friend even more.

Ranboo walked across the slightly cluttered floor that had a few papers, pencils, and a couple sweaters scattered around. It is a calm day.

Or it was.

Y/n’s head snapped up when they heard Ranboo let out a loud screech, watching him clumsily jump on the couch, looking batshit terrified. “Hey what’s wrong!?”

Instead of answering, Ranboo shakily pointed at the ground. Confused, Y/n’s eyes followed his finger and saw the culprit. It was a fucking spider, and it was the size of a nickel.

Y/n let out a panicked gasp and clambered off the chair they were sitting on to stand on the coffee table. They swallowed the lump in their throat and looked at their boyfriend. “You should kill that.”

Ranboo looked Y/n in the eyes as he shook his head. “Um, no, fuck that.”

“Come on, be a man.”

“What?” Ranboo squinted his eyes. “You're a total anti-sexist, a patriarchy fighter. But your whole worldview collapses.The moment there's a spider.” He glanced back down at the eight legged creature. “I get it, this is the real you. It's a pleasure, nice to meet you.” Ranboo held his hand out for a handshake despite the fact that him and Y/n were like 4 feet apart. “Shit like this brings the movement down.”

Y/n scoffed. “Well, haven’t you heard the saying?”

Ranboo picked his head up again, “What saying?”

“Everyone's a feminist until there is a spider around.”

Y/n stood up from their spot on the couch and started walking towards the hall.

“Where are you going?” Ranboo asked from behind them.

“Just to the bathroom.” Faintly, Y/n could hear shuffling from the couch, but brushed it off, assuming Ranboo had gotten up for more popcorn or another drink or something. They were not expecting to be picked up by the waist and moved to the opposite side of where they were originally heading. “What the hell?”

Y/n turned back around in time to see Ranboo dart to the bathroom as well. “Hey! No! Don’t you dare!”

Getting a loud laugh in return, Y/n was unfortunately slower than the giant ass teen and ran into the door as Ranboo abruptly shut it. “Too slow!”

Y/n groaned and hit their head on the wooden door. “Bruh, why didn’t you just use the guest bathroom? This is why we have two bathrooms in the first place!” Y/n whirled around and stalked off, only pausing once to shout one more time. “And I know that you know!”

“It’s fun messing with you!”

“Fuck off!”

Y/n groaned and rubbed their eyes, trying to get all the eye crust off, still groggy from the long nap. They sat up, looking around the room, remembering that they had spent the night at Tommy’s since it was too late for Y/n to leave for the house that they and Ranboo shared.

Y/n sat up and picked up the note that was on the dresser. They recognized the sloppy handwriting as Tommy’s explaining that he had gone to the store and would be back soon, also explaining that there was food in the fridge if they were hungry.

They pushed the covers away and stood up, leaving the guest room and walking down the hall, coming out into the front room, seeing it empty. They moved over to the couch and sat down, leaning back against the cushions and pulling out their phone.

The silence that had taken over was interrupted by a knock on the door. Y/n groaned, standing up and walked over to the door, unlocking it and opening it, realizing at the last second that they should have at least looked out the peephole first. They got lucky though, seeing as it just turned out to be Ranboo.

Ranboo stood in front of his partner and smiled nervously. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Y/n breathed out, surprised he had shown up. “Sorry, come in.” They moved out of the way.

Ranboo strolled inside, glancing around the apartment. “Is Tommy here?”

“Umm, no, he’s out shopping. Who knows what he’ll come back with.” They chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“It feels like we had a fight, even though we didn’t.” Ranboo mumbled. He held out his arms and pulled Y/n into his chest, breathing in their signature scent. “I know we haven’t had a lot of time for each other because we’ve both been busy with our own things, which also means we didn’t get to have our anniversary yesterday.” The words were muffled, but it was still easy enough for Y/n to understand.

“It’s no one’s fault.” Y/n whispered. “We can just hang out today, and go do something if you want.”

Ranboo shook his head. “No. No, I just want to be around you. I don’t want to do anything today, please.”

Y/n tightened their grip on their boyfriend. “Then we don’t have to. I promise.”

“I really loved the song.” Ranboo muttered gently.

Everything was silent between the two lovers. It was perfect even.

“Happy five years.”

#ranboo x y/n #ranboo fluff #ranboo x reader #ranboo imagine #ranboo #ranboo x you #c: ranboo #cc!ranboo #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #bo burham inside #bo burnham

[groovyace]

Why does redhood lost days jason look like Bo Burnham. DC explain.

#uhhhhhhh #i knew something wasnt right #couldnt put my finger on it #but i found it #and its more disturbing than i couldve ever imagined #jason todd #putting this in the character tag cus its important #soup says im right whihc means im right #good lord #bo burnham criminal arc #dc

[heyitsphoenixx]

snl WISHES they could make a rap parody as good as microwave popcorn I KNOW they have been begging him to help them

#bo burnham #and I love him for refusing every gd time lmaoooo #it IS however also giving me dick in a box vibes #and I also love him for that #can u fucking imagine him and Andy samberg working together omg #the world would not recover from whatever was made from that